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THE 
 
 HYPOCRITE iJNMASK'D 
 
 COMEDY, 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY W. WINSTANLEY, 
 
 OF NEW-YORK. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 BRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY GEO. F. HOPKINS. 
 1801* 
 
 i A 
 

THE 
 
 MANAGER AND THE AUTHOR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 A SPECIMEN 
 
 OF NOVEL CONCEPTION : 
 
 A TIT BIT, BY WAY OF 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 Manager returning the manuscript. 
 
 Man, I've read your play, and find it will not do ; 
 
 The rage and fashion now is something new ; 
 
 Instance — the works of Burke, or* Kotzebue. 
 
 Auth. True, Sir; I therefore thrust a bloody key 
 In Act the First, 
 
 Man. — — — — . That's right ; you know the way 
 To strike an audience ; yes, yes, you do. 
 But with one key — the piece with verj^ few 
 Will take. And if you can't contrive to give 
 The thing a sable coffin ; or relieve 
 The plot with some such striking incident, 
 Your piece will surely fail of its intent. 
 
 Auth. Why la ! Good Sir, you hav'nt read it o'er, 
 My second brings a coffin on the floor ! ! 
 
 Man. True, true. I recollect a coffin there, 
 But daggers are the things to make folks stare. 
 
 Auth. Why ! zounds and damn it ! there's a dagger next. 
 
 Man. Aye— very true indeed ! Well, don't be vext. 
 A stupid, senseless Comedy I've seen. 
 By apish mummery and spasmodic grin, 
 Sav'd from the damning hiss of Box and Pit, 
 And eke, the clutches of reviewer's wit. 
 Go home, good man, and add (the thing will please) 
 Two coffins more, tiro daggers more, and two more keys. 
 
 } 
 
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 MEN. 
 
 Mr. Allworthy. 
 
 Captain Allworthy, hii Son. 
 
 Ferdinand T^mvl^e^ friend of Capt. Allworthy. 
 
 Col. Hartly, a pretended admirer of Eliza Allxuo.rthy. 
 
 Commodore Toplift, uncle to Ferdinand Temple, 
 
 Justice Mittimus. 
 
 Fungus, « Money Broker. 
 
 Spigget, a Tavern Keeper, 
 
 Joey, his Son. 
 
 Fribble, Servant to Col, Hartly. 
 
 Ben Bobstay, Servant to the Commodore, 
 
 Thomas, Servant to Ferdinand Temple, 
 
 Watchmen and Constables. 
 
 women, 
 Mrs. Allworthy. 
 Eliza Allworthy, her daughter, 
 Sophia Temple, Sister to Ferdinand Temple, 
 Mrs. Spigget. ^ 
 
 Mrs. Davies. 
 Mrs. Mittimus. 
 Flora, Elizd!s Maid. 
 
THE 
 
 HYPOCRITE UNMASK'D, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene — A parlor in Spigget's house ; Spigget 
 conducting Ferdinand Temple in. 
 
 Spig. This way, your honor, this way — here is a 
 parlor, though I say it, that commands one of the 
 sweetest, the pleasantest prospects of any within 
 fifty miles of it — -from this here window you may 
 feast your honor's eyes until' • 
 
 Ferd. Until I'm wearied with the sight, I sup- 
 pose : but, good Mr. Spigget, I would much ra- 
 ther regale my stomach with a slice or two of your 
 roast beef, and a bottle of claret. It is now al- 
 most eleven hours since I broke m,y fast, and 
 therefore have no very pressing inclination to gra- 
 tify any other appetite but that which so long a 
 fast, and so long a journey, has created. 
 
 Spig. Lud, Sir! Your honor shall be served 
 with all the dainties the Blue Bell affords, in a 
 crack, as the saying is — for I know how to feel 
 for a worthy gentleman in such a plight, having 
 sometimes been in the same way myself. Expe- 
 rience makes fools wise, as the saying is — for you 
 must know. Sir, about last Michaelmas, my wife 
 Deborah 
 
 Ferd. For heaven's sake, Mr. Spigget ! have 
 the goodness to set before me some of those dain- 
 ties 
 
6 THE HVPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 ties you were just speaking of; and then for the 
 Michaelmas story, if you please. 
 
 Spig. Directly, your honor' — instantly. Sir. I 
 know the consequences of long fasting. It must, 
 
 to a gentleman of your delicate here Betty, 
 
 • John Deborah, I say. 
 
 Enter Mis. Spigget. 
 
 Mis. Spig. What now, besides the devil, ails 
 you, numbskull ? (I crave your honor's pardon — to 
 Ferdinand.) A body can never take a little re- 
 freshing repose towards evening, but they must be 
 disturbed by the braying of thy beastly lungs. 
 
 Spig. The gentleman, my lamb, complains that 
 he is a little hungry, or so — and wants a bit of 
 dinner as soon as possible ; and I was but a going 
 to order it, my dear. 
 
 Mrs. Spig. Your honor's most obsequious, very 
 humble servant. I hope you will feel, your ho- 
 nor, as comfortable at the Blue Bell as tho' your 
 honor w^as at a palace. What shall I order your 
 honor ? We have a larder, though I say it, that 
 might set a London aldermsna craving. 
 
 Ferd. Any thing, any thing, good Mrs. Spig- 
 get — only favor me with some refreshment as 
 soon as possible ; and in the mean time, desire 
 my man to come in. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Spig. Instantly, your honor, in- 
 stantly. [Exit both. 
 
 Enter Thomas. 
 
 Ferd. Well, Thomas, how do you feel, after 
 the fatigues of our journey ? Have you taken care 
 of our baggage ? 
 
 Thos. AH is safe, Sir. I've made a fire in the 
 chamber, which the landlord has told mc you are 
 
 to 
 
THfi HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd, 7 
 
 to occupy ; and have delivered tbe letter to Cap- 
 tain Allworthy, who received the news of your ar- 
 rival with great pleasure. 
 
 Ferd. I am glad of it — for I believe he is the 
 only friend I can boast of in this place. You'll 
 take particular care, Thomas, of the small black 
 trunk, for in it lies all the treasure I am possessed 
 of in this world ; and, unless that little is managed 
 with great prudence, our sufferings, I fear, will 
 soon be written in the catalogue of our bones, 
 
 Thos. I hope better things, Sir. Your good old 
 uncle, I trust, notwithstanding it is so long since 
 you have heard from him, is still alive and prosper- 
 ous ; and who knows but that the next letter may 
 more than compensate all the inconvenience you. 
 have sustained in so long and so painful a silenced 
 
 Ferd. Thou art a good natured fellow, Tho^ 
 mas ; but thy goodness, I fear, is apt to make 
 thee judge too favorably of things ; Heaven for- 
 give me, if I impute this neglect wrongfully ; bufe 
 I have seen so much of late, to make me judge 
 unfavorably of every thing, that my mind seems 
 predisposed to doubtfulness and gloom. We do 
 the world no injury, Thomas, by questioning its 
 probity j but we wrong ourselves very much, if 
 we never question it. 
 
 Thos. Dear master, think of happier days. 
 
 Ferd. I'm not 'unhappy, Thomas. 
 
 Thos. In your good old father's service, I saved 
 eighty pounds ; since his death, though I have not 
 been able to add one shilling to it, I have yet beeu 
 able to keep it entire : this store, my good mas- 
 ter, is at your service ; and, in using it, you will 
 do me a greater kindness, than you could by in- 
 creasing it ten fold : It would ill become me to 
 hoard up that little. Whilst the chDd of him from 
 
 whom 
 
8 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 whom I received it, wants so much, I have no oc- 
 casion for it now ; and my weakened frame por- 
 tends me I shall soon be released from every want. 
 
 Ferd. Do not add to my affliction, Thomas ! 
 I thank you^ — from my soul> I thank you ; but 
 things are not yet so bad — I will take thy advice, 
 Thomas, and hope for better days. There is, I 
 believe, no condition of humanity, however de- 
 plorable, which a gracious providence may not 
 alleviate. I see it is our duty to bear with forti- 
 tude the greatest evils that can befal us ; the 
 worst of calamities could not happen without di- 
 vine permission. 
 
 TJios. Your adversity is of no uncommon com- 
 plexion j besides, you have talents that will ensure 
 you more than subsistence in any quarter of the 
 world. 
 
 Ferd. Would to heaven I had never possessed 
 them I For then, had nature given me a mind 
 more fitted to encounter the severities of fate. A 
 poor man, Thomas, has more than poverty to con- 
 tend with : the world ever thinks ill of him who 
 fares ill ; and the lower he sinks, the greater weight 
 he has to sustain. Good God ! What storms — 
 what sad vicissitudes of fate have I not endured !• — • 
 Yes ! I remember when with plenteous cup my 
 board was crown'd^ — 'when luxury and festive 
 mirth cheered every happy guest — ^how the pliant 
 sycophant, profusely kind, would tender his ser- 
 vices, sure to be rejected : But when reverse of 
 fortune came, how soon, alas ! each brow was 
 purred in supercilious neglect ' 
 
 Enter ^oiL\. 
 
 Joey. Your honor's dinner is ready, smoking 
 hot upon the board, waiting your excellency's 
 pleasure and appetite. 
 
 Ferd. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 9 
 
 Fej\ Shew me in. 
 
 Joey. Here Betty, John, who waits there ? (A 
 servant enters and conducts Ferdinand out.) 
 
 Joey. (Eying Thoinas significantly.) Pray, Sir, 
 ar'nt you a sort of a parson ? 
 
 Thos. Pray, Sir, ar'nt you a sort of a coxcomb ? 
 
 Joey. He ! he ! he ! I see you bear no relation 
 to the Cassoc — there's but little wit in religion. 
 
 Thos. And very little religion in wit, if we may 
 judge of the inside by the out. 
 
 Joey. Which, by the bye, is a thing impossible ; 
 yet would I willingly give up all pretensions to 
 the former, for the reputation of the latter. < 
 
 Thos. And yet they say, wit is but a feather. 
 
 Joey. AVith which thy cap, I fear, will ne'er be 
 plum'd. 
 
 Thos. Pray, Sir, how long have you been an 
 idiot ? 
 
 Joey. Ever since I took you for a man of sense. 
 My service to you, Sir. [Exit Joey. 
 
 Thos. Unmeaning piece of foolery ! AVhat, here 
 conies another wit, I suppose. — (Hearing Frib- 
 ble sing as he enters.) 
 
 Frib. Servant, Sir. 
 
 Thos. Yours, Sir. 
 
 Frib. Pray, Sir (looking for a letter) pray. Sir, 
 can you inform me whether I am right? 
 
 Thos. Have you reference to your head, or to 
 your heels. Sir ? 
 
 Frib. Ha! ha! ha! why, faith, to both, I be- 
 lieve, ha I ha ! ha ! — that's a good'n — What, you 
 are a wit, eh ! wish we had you at our club — But 
 tell me. Sir, does Mr. Ferdinand Temple lodge 
 here ? 
 
 Thos. He does, Sir. 
 
 Frib. 
 
 B 
 
10 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 Fr'ib. Then be good enough to deliver him this 
 letter— it comes fromCapt.AUworthy, whose house 
 I have just left, and was requested to convey this 
 letter safely into Mr. Temple's hands- — It may re- 
 quire an answer ; I shall, therefore, wait. 
 
 [Thomas receives the letter ^ and goes out. 
 
 Enter Joey, singing. 
 
 Joey. Tall de rail lall la — Ah, my dear Fribble, 
 how do'st, how do'st — 'Where have vou kept your- 
 self these fifteen centuries ? By the immortal 
 Shakespeare 1 
 
 Frib. Stay, stay — Do you know any thing of 
 the gentleman who arrived here this morning ? 
 
 Joey. No ; how the devil should I ? besides, I've 
 no time to inquire' — I have the part of Othello to 
 get off by next Wednesday, and to-morrow 
 
 Frib. I think 
 
 Joey. How of thy thought, lago ? 
 
 Frib. Damn your lago's ! tell me who do you 
 think he is ^ 
 
 Joey. Most reverend, grave, and potent ! 
 
 Frib. Pshaw, man, what the devil's got into 
 thy brains ? 
 
 Joey. Why, why that monk-looking grummy is 
 his waiting-man, I believe; he pretends to wit 
 too, but I think I've purg'd him of that conceit. 
 
 Frib. I don't know who they can be, but the 
 letter w^hich grummy, as you call him, put into 
 Capt, Temple's hands this morning, has almost 
 deprived him of his wits. I just arrived there with 
 a billet-doux from my gentleman, a few moments 
 before the old pest gave him the letter, and as 
 John wasn't at home, I was dispatched with that 
 I have just delivered. 
 
 Joey. Pshaw, pshaw, a fig for the billet-doux : 
 
 tell 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 1 1 
 
 tell me how my goddess, my charming Flora, 
 does — I know you often see her, bewitchhig, no 
 doubt, as ever eh ! 
 
 Lillles white, and damask rose?, 
 Her untucker'd neck discloses ; 
 Cherries red, her lips so pretty, 
 And her speech so wonderous Avltty ; 
 Tell me, Fribb — hear my sighs — 
 How to gain the lovely prize I 
 
 Frih. Bravo, bravo — -Why, by making her sen- 
 sible of thy merits and thy love, and by establish-, 
 ing thy reputation for bravery. 
 
 Joey. True — none but the brave deserve the 
 fair. 
 
 Frib. Well, but she calls thee an infamous, 
 cowardly poltroon. 
 
 Joey. She's a lying fish fag, a calumniating bag- 
 gage — I know what she means — I didn't refuse 
 to fight him — we only differed about the time and 
 
 place. A poltroon ! ! and a coward ! ! ! . 
 
 Stuff me with blunderbusses — fry me in saltpetre 
 — pepper me with gunpowder — ■ — A poltroon ! !^ 
 (Stnitting about the stage.) 
 
 Frib. She pretends, too, to dislike thee for that 
 very part of thy nature which indicates the future 
 greatness of thy life, and swears she won't have 
 thee, unless thou wilt quit thy stage mania, and 
 cursed propensity to rhyming. 
 
 Joey. The great globe itself, and all which it 
 inherits, shall dissolve, before I quit the stage, be- 
 cause, because, because the stage I love. 
 
 Frib. Bravo again. Egad, Joey, that thou hast 
 wit, nobody will deny : But where 's the verses 
 you promised to shew me ? Suppose I take *em to 
 her. 
 
 Jocv. 
 
12 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 Joey. A good hint — so you shall' — ^here they are 
 —(pulling them out of his pocket) — I've set 'em to 
 music too. , 
 
 Frib. Better and better — you've a sweet voice, 
 Joey, and I've long'd to witness thy musical pow- 
 ers — Come, let's have a song. 
 
 Joeij. With all my heart, with all my heart- 
 hem — hem- — I've a cold tho' — ^hem. 
 
 Say* dearest Flora, shall a swain 
 
 Of Joey's worth and merit, 
 End all his griefs, and all his pain, 
 
 And die a broken spirit ? 
 To die, to sleep, to end his days, 
 
 He is resolv'd, unless you 
 Relieve his woes, confess his praise> 
 
 And suffer him to bless you. 
 
 Frlb. Excellent, most excellent. Egad, a 
 lucky thought — suppose, Joey, you serenade her 
 to-night — her chamber-window, you know, is ex- 
 actly over the garden gate ; she can't fail of hear- 
 ing you, and if her heart is not as insensible as a 
 pumpkin, you may yet a\yake it to a sense of your 
 merit and your love. 
 
 Joey. Thank you, my dearest Fribble, I'll take 
 your advice : this evening our club meets ; we 
 shall sup late, and drink deep ; this will put me 
 in high glco: and proper trim for the song, or for 
 any thing else. (Bell rings.) Coming, coming. 
 
 Frib. Perhaps I may be of your party, tor my 
 gentleman is invited to sup out with a party of jolly 
 blades, and won't stir a foot while they are able 
 to stand, I dare say. 
 
 Joey. We shall always be happy to see Mr. Frib- 
 ble at our club — Adieu for the present, my boy. 
 (Bell rings.) 
 
 Frib. Adieu, adieu. If I should not come, re- 
 member the garden gate ! [Exit Joey. 
 
 Enter 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 13 
 
 Eyz/^r Thomas. 
 
 Thos. My master desires his compliments to 
 Capt. Allworthy : he will be happy to see him at 
 the hour appointed. 
 
 {Exit at separate doors, Frib. &' Thos. 
 
 Scene 2d, changes to a Parlor in Mr. Allwor- 
 THY'y House. Allworthy reading a Paper — 
 His Lady and Daughter at Needle Wo7^k. 
 
 All. And so this is the same young gentleman 
 who was a fellows-student at college with our Eddy, 
 eh ! Poor Eddy has almost lost his wits since he 
 has heard of his friend's arrival. I wonder what 
 the deuce the letter contains which he received from 
 him this morning, that the boy should take on so. 
 
 Mrs. All. I have often heard our Eddy exclaim, 
 poor Ferdinand ! and when I have questioned him 
 concerning his friend, he has sighed so heavily, 
 that I was afraid to make farther inquiry about 
 him. I shouldn't be surprised, tho', were we to 
 find out that this same friend of his proved at last 
 to be some worthless, some good-for-nothing spends 
 thrift, as poor as a beggar's brat. 
 
 All. Pshaw, hold your tongue. I know enough 
 of him to know better — he was as virtuous and as 
 honorable a lad as ever took a degree. Suppose he 
 is poor, is he any worse on that account ? Wasn't 
 I poor ? wasn't you poor ? and wasn't thousands 
 still poorer than either of us, who set themselves 
 up now-a-days for tip-top quality folk, and look 
 as superciliously out of their carriage windows, as 
 if every body who could not afford to ride like them- 
 selves, were of a diiferent species, and only fit to 
 be bespattered with their horses — — — talk about 
 poor— — r 
 
 Mrs. 
 
14 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Mrs. All. Well, but, Mr. Allworthy, you know 
 the silly propensities of our Eddy's head — Should 
 this same friend of his be in distress, and I have 
 my doubts, it is ten to one but he distresses him- 
 self to relieve him. If his poverty should be the 
 child of extravagance, I see no reason w\\y another 
 should be saddled with it. 
 
 All Fudge. 
 
 Mrs. All. Aye, you may fudge if you please, but 
 there is a mean in all things, Mr. Allworthy, and 
 virtue itself may be carried to excess. 
 
 All. Fudge. 
 
 Mr^s. All. And, by overstraining, become even 
 a crime. 
 
 All. Well, well, my dear, never mind, never 
 mind — You have, however, the consolation of a 
 very quiet conscience on that score : your virtue 
 has not suffered much by overstraining. 
 
 Mrs. All. Nor shall it, I warrant you, unless in 
 counteracting your foolish whims and fancies, 
 which I consider, by the bye, one of the greatest 
 virtues I am called upon to exercise, and is the 
 only way of preventing your own ruin, and that 
 of your family. 
 
 All. Well, my love, make yourself easy then, 
 you shall never have cause to chide me for neglect- 
 ing the means to keep alive the exercise of your 
 virtues — What, here comes Eddy. 
 
 Enter Capt. Allworthy.^ 
 
 Well, my boy, have you seen your old friend 
 yet? 
 
 Ed. No, Sir, but I expect to have that pleasure 
 very soon; as he expects me at the Blue Bell, 
 where he puts up. 
 
 All. GOf my boy, and esteem him not a whit 
 
 the 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 15 
 
 the less should you find him as poor as a church 
 mouse. 
 
 Mrs. All. Aye, now there it is, there it is, this 
 is the constant theme of your advice to your son. 
 
 Miss All. Why, mamma, you surely wouldn't 
 have my brother, who is in want of nothing, re- 
 gard his friend the less because he is poor, and in 
 want of every thing ? 
 
 AIL That's my little darling — I must have a buss 
 for that — here you little baggage f giving her some 
 vioney) go buy yourself the prettiest pin-cushing 
 you can find at Tom Trinket's, for pleading in 
 
 'behalf of suffering merit talk about poor • 
 
 (To his wife.) 
 
 Mrs. All. Mercy on us, mercy on us ! ! 
 
 All. What does he say to you in his letters, 
 Eddy? 
 
 Ed. His letters leave room enough for commise- 
 ration, I confess, but they by no means represent 
 his situation in a light to excite that pity which 
 we are apt to feel for those whose misfortunes are 
 heightened through their incapacity to relieve 
 themselves. Thank God, this is not Ferdinand's 
 case, who assures me, that ever since the failure 
 of his uncle's remittances, on which he entirely 
 depended, he has supported himself by his own 
 industry and talents. 
 
 All. There's for you, there's for you ; how do 
 you like that, Mrs. overstrained virtue ? ♦ 
 
 Ed. You recollect. Sir, how much he used to 
 delight us with his song and performance on the 
 harpsichord ; but it is chiefly on the Spanish guit- 
 tar he excels, and intends making a protession of 
 it while he stays amongst us, provided he should 
 meet with sufficient encouragement. 
 
 Eli%a. 
 
16 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 li,lka. O papa, shan't I learn to play ? almost 
 all the ladies of my acquaintance understand mu- 
 sic, but I. ' / 
 
 All. Well, my dear, if your brother can prevail 
 upon his friend to give you some instruction, I 
 shall be happy in this opportunity to commence 
 the exercise of your mamma's overstrained virtues, 
 and of rewardins: a worthy gentleman for his more 
 moderate ones. 
 
 Eliza. Thank you, dear papa, thank you ; O 
 Eddy, do you think he'll come in the morning ? I 
 shall soon learn of him, I dare say. 
 
 Ed. I think it very likely .you may indeed fsar- 
 casiicaUyj — but, Eliza, I hardly knov^^ how to ask 
 him' — Ferdinand was born to happier prospects' — 
 to be sure there is nothing in such employment un- 
 becoming a gentleman, that I can conceive, or 
 which might be incompatible with his notions of 
 that character ; but adversity, which reduces a 
 grovelling spirit to the lowest ebb of meanness, is 
 apt to raise a proud one to an insupportable height. 
 
 Eliza. Why, laud, brother, do you think he'd 
 refuse to teach me ? 
 
 Ed. No, my dear sister, I am persuaded he 
 Would not, and that's oiTe reason why I feel greater 
 reluctance to ask him ; but we'll talk about this 
 another time — Ferdinand will expect me — (look- 
 ing at his icatch.) 
 
 Enter a Servant- 
 
 Serv. Col. Hartly. 
 
 Eliza. Plague on him (aside.) 
 
 Mrs. All. The Colonel ? bid him walk up — 
 Why in the name of wonder does he always ob- 
 serve such ceremony ? But he's so circumspect in 
 every thing. 
 
 [As 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'p, It 
 
 [As Capt. Allworthy goes out, his father calls 
 after him, " Give my best regards to hivi, 
 Eddyr 
 Ed. With pleasure, Sir. 
 
 Eliza. And mine too O ! — no' — no — 1 didn't 
 
 mean that O ! papa, I dare say I shall soon 
 
 learn to play (hiding her confusion.) 
 
 Enter Colonel Hartly. 
 
 Mrs. All, Colonel, your most obedient. 
 
 Col. Hart. Your's, most devotedly, ladies. — 
 Pray how do you find yourselves after the fatigues 
 of that stupid stuff we ) awncd over last evening, 
 and that«still more wretched after-piece ? 
 
 Mrs. All. The writer of them would, in my 
 opinion, have made an excellent Ass in the Enter- 
 tainment,* 
 
 Eliza, (looking in the Colonel's face.) He was 
 not the only one in the house fit tor that character. 
 
 Col. The spectators, too, I thought were un- 
 commonly dull. 
 
 Eliza. Some of them at least (sarcastically.) 
 
 Col. What say you, ladies, to an airing for an 
 hour or two — My chariot is at the door — It may 
 be of service to us, and the day is delighttul. 
 
 Mrs. All. With all my heart. Colonel. Mr. 
 Allworthy, won't you accompany us ? 
 
 All. Thank you kindly — I purpose to visit my 
 neighbor Mittimus this morning — Excuse me — A 
 pleasant ride to you. [Exit Alkvorthy. 
 
 Mrs. All. Come, Eliza, get yourself ready. 
 
 Eliza. O mamma, you must excuse me ; I have 
 some little matters to do at home this morning, 
 
 c and 
 
 * The author wonders what the devil pieces Mrs. Allworthy 
 alludes to. He means to inquire, for she must be a person oi" 
 some taste, he thinks. 
 
18 THE HYrOCRlTE UNMASK D. 
 
 and expect Miss Mittimus here presently j besides, 
 I have no inclination to go abroad, were I not en- 
 gaged at home. 
 
 Mrs. All. Well, well, child, please yourself. — 
 Come, Colonel, I'm not afraid of being seen alone 
 with you J your name is the \ ery antidote of de- 
 famation. (Col. bows.) 
 
 Col. I hope. Miss Eliza, you will find as much 
 pleasure in the company of your female friend, as 
 I had expected from your's. 
 
 Eliza. I think it very likely I shall. 
 
 Col. Madam, your most obedient (leading one 
 Mrs. Allworthy.) 
 
 Eliza. Sir, your very humble servant (sarxasti- 
 cally.) Conceited top ! I wonder how my mam- 
 ma can expect me to esteem a man, the chief 
 business of whose life seems to me to be, to ex- 
 cite adulation from the gaping multitude, and 
 whose greatest felicity is, the admiration of him- 
 self. But he's a rigid moralist, torsooth, and im- 
 mensely rich. (Kings the hell.) I'm sure I don't 
 know what he's good for, except in wearing a part 
 of his income in the embroidery of his waistcoats, 
 he affords some provision to the industrious poor, 
 which might otherwise be squandered away at the 
 gaming table. 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 O Flora, I'm going to learn music. 
 
 Flora. Indeed ! of whom ? 
 
 Eliza. Why of my brother's very intimate friend, 
 Mr. Temple, who has just arrived, and intends to 
 stay, I don't know how long, here ; and my bro- 
 ther says he is one of the best performers he ever 
 heard, and ^^ 
 
 Flora. — Intends you for his pupil, does he ? But 
 
 take 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 19- 
 
 take care, ma'am, of the overtures he may teach 
 you. If I recollect rightly, he is the very same 
 young gentleman who entered college with your 
 brother, and who spent the last vacation with him. 
 
 Eliza. I remember it, and tho' it is now five 
 years since, I recollect his person and accomplish- 
 ments well. I was then. Flora, but twelve years 
 old, yet I was not, even at that early period of my 
 life, insensible to those advantages with which, 
 by nature, he seemed so eminently gifted. 
 
 Flora. O ! oh ! is it so ? At this rate I make 
 no doubt but you will be a very teachable pupil. 
 
 Eliza. You mean then, that I love him, I sup- 
 pose. 
 
 Flora. O no, no, not for the world — O ! love, 
 that's out of the question — I only mean, that you 
 can recollect his manners and accomplishments 
 well, and the sensations which these advantages, 
 even at that early period of your life, had inspired. 
 ■ — Love !■ — O ! No — And yet methinks the Col- 
 onel will gain but little by the recollection. 
 
 Eliza. For heaven's sake, Flora, do not men- 
 tion his odious name to me. 
 
 Flora. Why your mamma has given it out, that 
 you are actually engaged to him. 
 
 Eliza. My mamma, I believe, washes it ; but 
 that I'm engaged to him by my own consent, is 
 untrue ; on the contrary, the very idea of such an 
 union sickens me to loathing. 
 
 Flora. Pray, ma'am, do you know whether 
 Mr. Temple has brought his sister wdth him } 
 
 Eliza. I never knew he had a sister. 
 
 Flora. O yes, he has, and I make no doubt but 
 that your brother could be as eloquent in the praise 
 ot her beauty and accomplishments, as other peo- 
 ple were in 
 
 Eliza. 
 
20 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Eliza. Nonsense, nonsense' — Tell me, Flora, 
 how came my brother acquamted with her ? 
 
 Flora. Don't you remember their taking horses 
 once, and staying from home several days, under 
 pretence of visiting some college acquaintance ? 
 
 Eliza. No. 
 
 Flora. No matter — ^The college acquaintance 
 wa» no other, I assure you, than Sophia Temple, 
 who was placed about that time at some board- 
 ing-school, I don't know where, and if I mistake 
 not, your brother has made frequent visits to this 
 college acquaintance very lately, 
 
 Eliza. You surprize me. 
 
 Flora. Have you never noticed the locket he 
 wears, and the letters upon it ? 
 
 Eliza. Yes, and now I remember the letters are 
 an S. and T. I declare — Good Heavens ! I have 
 seen my brother in raptures press that bauble to 
 his bosom, and vow eternal faithfulness to her for 
 whose sake he wears it. But where is she now. 
 Flora ? 
 
 Flora. I can't tell, but I fear all is not as it 
 should be. 
 
 Eliza, (pausing.) My brother has of late been 
 much from home, and whenever he has returned 
 from these excursions, has worn an aspect of dis- 
 quietude and pain ; and oft, when I would fain 
 have beguiled him of the melancholy grasp, has 
 so knit his brow, that I feared to question him far- 
 ther — ^Time, however, may unfold the mystery. 
 
 I expect Miss Mittimus presently, and must go 
 to my dressing room — You'll follow me. Flora. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST ACT. 
 
 ACT 
 
THfi HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 21 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A Parlor at Spigget'j-. Ferdinand walking. 
 
 Fer. Something surely must have happened that 
 prevents his coming. 
 
 Enter Thomas. 
 
 Captain Allworthy, Sir. 
 
 Fer. Shew him in, Thomas, shew him in. 
 
 Enter Capt. Allworthy. 
 (They run to, and embrace, each other.) 
 
 Fer. My good, my invaluable friend. 
 
 Ed. Well, Ferdinand, I hope I find you in 
 possession of health and happiness. 
 
 Fer. I am in good health, my friend, and can- 
 not be otherwise than happy while in possession of 
 the choicest gift which Heaven can bestow on man 
 — Let me but enjoy your friendship, and this dreary 
 inhospitable world will no longer seem to wear the 
 gloomy aspect of a wilderness. 
 
 Ed. You have my best wishes without alloy — 
 But a truce to these unnecessary professions : I am 
 iiiipatient to know every thing which concerns 
 you. You inform me that you mean to instruct 
 all the pretty ladies of our city to play on the harp- 
 sichord, provided the style of your performance 
 should attract the notice, and gain the patronage, 
 of our gentry here. 
 
 Fer. Such, my friend, is my intention, tho', 
 from the experience I have had since I commenced 
 
 teacher. 
 
22 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 teacher, success depends as much upon fortune 
 and caprice, as either the taste of the public, or 
 the ability of the professor, 
 
 Ed. I wish with all my heart you may succeed, 
 and that your most sanguine wishes may be 
 realized; but I almost fear to hope. 
 
 Fer. I have brought several concertos of my 
 own composing, and 
 
 Ed. Hadst thou brought half the quantity of 
 bandanoes, as a pedlar, thou wouldst have been 
 certain of some consideration ; but if your merits 
 and talents are the only goods you have brought 
 on which to support yourself, I would advise 
 thee to learn immediately the art of feeding up- 
 on hope, and growing rich upon promises 
 
 But, come, come, I think, notwithstanding all I 
 have said to check the ardor of your expectations, 
 it is more than probable you will find some en- 
 couragement here, and whilst I have a guinea in 
 my pocket, thou shalt never be in v/ant of ten 
 and six-pence. 
 
 Fer. Were I not well acquainted with the no- 
 ble generosity of your disposition, I could in the 
 present instance excuse a sentiment, which, while 
 it magnifies your own worthiness, makes my ne- 
 cessities but too apparent. 
 
 Ed. No more of your condition, I pray you — 
 You havn't half the philosophy of Jack Oakum, 
 who, under every calamity, could find abundance 
 of reason to be thankful that it was not so bad as 
 it might have been, and, when one of his legs was 
 shot off, rejoiced that it was not both. Homer, 
 the greatest poet that ever lived, was once a 
 wretched blind beggar, and sang his ballads about 
 the streets ; and, if there be any truth in history, 
 his mouth was oftener filled with verse than ven- 
 ison. Fer. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd, 23 
 
 Fer. I have not known such want yet — have I 
 long been wretched. 
 
 Ed. Do not, I beseech thee, repine unneces- 
 sarily. In this fantastic theatre of vice and folly, 
 the best and wisest of us all are compelled to take 
 a part, and he who has least cause to be satisfied 
 with the play, has the greatest reason to expect 
 better fare in the farce. Cheer up, man, cheer 
 up, and be as merry as you were wont to bC' — My 
 father, who has one of the best hearts in the world, 
 longs to see you at our house — We are to have a 
 party in a few days, when I purpose to introduce 
 you to some of our acquaintance of fashion and 
 fortune : it may be a mean of facilitating your 
 plans amongst us. 
 
 Fer. My dispirited heart will, I fear, be no great 
 acquisition to the party. 
 
 Ed. Never mind, never mind, so the party may 
 be some to you. Col, Hartly is to be with us — a 
 conceited, moralising, purse-proud admirer of my 
 sister, who hates him from her soul. Sam Frothy, 
 too, a loquacious coxcomb^ — talks decently on 
 most subjects, with very little knowledge of any^ — • 
 cracks his jokes, makes puns, creates much laugh- 
 ter, and is, in short, the very life and soul of the 
 company ; tho', when he's gone, it is difficult to 
 recollect one decent thing he has said the whole 
 time. There will also be an elderly gentleman, 
 of the name of Western, of whom my father is ex- 
 cessively fond. He is poor, sensible, and pious, 
 rather sarcastic at times, and seems more out of 
 humor than well pleased with the world. I love 
 to hear the good old man talk, for all his observa- 
 tions are pertinent, and his conversation eloquent 
 and improving ; yet Sam Frothy has always twice 
 the attention paid to his manufactured wit, when- 
 ever they chance to meet in company. 
 
 Fer. 
 
^4. THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 Fer. No wonder. In the fashionable circles of 
 stupidity, the folly and buffoonery of the rich is 
 esteemed, but the wit and eloquence of a poor 
 man excite contempt, 
 
 Ed. These gloomy reflections, Ferdinand, al- 
 most tempt me to question the identity of your 
 person — For heaven's sake, and for my sake too, 
 be, or at least affect to be, more cheerful. Adieu 
 for the present ; mind that you return me this 
 visit soon ; we shall always be happy to see you 
 as one of the family. [Exit. 
 
 Fer. (pausing.) Friendship, thou inestimable 
 cordial of human life ! Source of the most grateful 
 satisfaction that bounteous Heaven has conferred 
 on man ! without thee, the goodliest prosperity is 
 but the vision of a night, and all the vivid charms 
 of life a dream. [E.xit Fer. 
 
 Scene opens to another Apartment in SpiggetV 
 House. 
 
 Joey and Fribble drinking. 
 
 .Joey. ■ — Come to know it? (here's to you) — -I'll 
 tell thee — 'Why, I lately took a walk about ten 
 miles from town, to have a little flirtation, do you 
 see, with an old sweetheart of mine, that lives with 
 the lady that keeps a boarding-school there' — So I 
 was axing Lydia after Sophia, whereupon Lydia 
 shook her head, and — (come^ my service to you — • 
 and told me, that a week or two before they 
 miss'd her, a great gentlema«i had visited her fre- 
 quently, under pretence of something or other, I 
 don't know what, about her uncle, and 
 
 Frib, Umph ! I suppose then, the damsel had 
 acquired a sufficient knowledge of the beautiful, 
 and felt an inclination for a finish in the sublime — 
 "Wasn't it so } 
 
 Joey. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 25 
 
 Joeij. No, no, no such thing ; Miss Sophy, God 
 love her heart, was as innocent and as artless as a 
 nun, and never encouraged Col. Hartly's visits. 
 
 Frib. Col. Hartly? (surprised.) 
 
 Joey. Yes, Col. Hartly, what of that } 
 
 Frib. Is it possible that you can be ignorant 
 that Col. Hartly is my master, and that I'm his 
 gentleman ? 
 
 Joey. Very possible — 'I always took you for a 
 gentleman ; but what gentleman's gentleman, I 
 never thought of axing ; besides, we havn't been 
 long acquainted, you know — (Come^ here*s to 
 you.) 
 
 Frib. Well, go on with your story. 
 
 Joey. So, as soon as I got home, I met with an 
 old friend of mine ; so we agreed to take a glass 
 together at Mother Davis's ; and who do you think 
 I should find there ? guess. 
 
 Frib. Not Sophia, I hope. 
 
 Joey. Why — No — I can't say identically Sophia, 
 but Nancy there, told me that Col. Hartly had 
 lately brought a little girl there, of the name of 
 Juliet, who says her name is Sophia something, I 
 forget what — 'But this, by the bye, was told me 
 in confidence^ — You take me — 
 
 Fj-ib. Sublime enough, truly. Well, but is she 
 yet at Mother Davis's } 
 
 Joey. Why yes, if the old tygress has'nt turned 
 her out-of-doors, which she frequently threatened 
 to do, for the poor girl has, ever since she has 
 been there, refused to see the Colonel, or any body 
 else ; and this has made the old bell dame some- 
 what dissatisfied with her guest, and once threat- 
 ened to send the poor soul to prison for her board 
 and lodging, unless she consented to receive the 
 Colonel's visits. 
 
 i> Frib, 
 
\ 
 
 V 
 
 v'26 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Frib. This certainly cannot be Colonel Hartly; 
 a man perpetually declaiming against perfidy and 
 libertinism, would surely be the last man on 
 earth to give so wicked an example of both. 
 
 Joey. Ah,. Master Frib. Master Frib. you are 
 up to but very few things, if you take a man to be 
 always what he seems to be. (Bell rings.) ,Cona- 
 ing presently, 
 
 Frib. You are miich mistaken in me, Joey^ I 
 have seen a great deal of the world, and know 
 mankind too w^ell to be imposed upon by any ap- 
 pearances whatever ; but I confess the Colonel has 
 been too deep for me here — •! don't much like this 
 affair — I never thought there was much harm in a 
 little innocent wenching; but I think there is a 
 great deal in robbing a friendless and unsuspect- 
 ing girl of the only treasure on earth she can boast 
 of, and afterwards devote her to infamy and des- 
 truction. 
 
 Joey. True, Sir, true (hiccup) — Poor and con- 
 tent — (Bell rings)' — Egad, I must go now, my 
 (liiccup) my father' — when shall I see you ? 
 
 I'^rib. To-morrow sometime. But don't you 
 know the hour ? It's past eleven ; you mustn't go 
 to the club to-night, it's too latC' — so away to your 
 goddess. [Exit Frib. 
 
 Joey. Flora ! Aye, aye — I take you, the garden 
 (hiccup) gate — Say, dearest Flora, can a swain 
 
 Filter Spigget. 
 
 of Joey's — Fether, gi's thy hand (hiccup) gi's thy 
 hand, old boy. 
 
 Spig. A halter rather, unobedient scoundrel. 
 
 Joey. End all his (hiccup) griefs and (stagger- 
 ing about the stage)' — That's for you, old boy (snap- 
 ping his Jingers) that's for you, old coqk. 
 
 Spig. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 27 
 
 S'pig. What have you been at, eh, sirrah r > 
 
 Speak. 
 
 Joey. Why, laud, fether 
 
 S'pi'g. What, dare you answer me? dare you 
 open your lips to me, you drunken brat ? why 
 didn't you attend when the bell rung ? 
 
 (Walks about the room in a great passion.) 
 
 Joey. Can't a body take a drop (hiccup) or so 
 with a friend, but they must be scolded at eter- 
 nally ? I'm sure I never scolds fether • 
 
 Spig. Silence, impertinent jackanapes, your 
 head is so fermented with liquor, that you don't 
 apprehend your duty to your reverential parent, 
 whose greatest misfortune is, to be the father of 
 such a son of a b — h. 
 
 Joey. Thank you kindly. Sir, and (hiccup) thank 
 you on my mamma's account. 
 
 Spig. Leave my presence, you cub you — (Spig- 
 get turns him out.) 
 
 Joey. Well done, old cock. [Exit. 
 
 Scene changes to a garden zcall and gate. 
 Enter tico Watchmen. 
 
 1.9/ Watch. Past twelve o'clock — all's well. 
 
 Id Watch. All's well that ends well. 
 
 \st. Then all's well thus far, for the night has 
 just ended. 
 
 Q,d. But our labors have not ended for the night, 
 and it's devilish cold. 
 
 1.9^. But we labor for the public good. 
 
 2d. True, but not for the good public. 
 
 \st. Thou speakest treason. 
 
 2d. I speak what I think. 
 
 \st. Thinkest thou so ill of the public ? 
 
 2d. If the public were good, wherefore, I pray 
 rhee, our office ? 
 
 \st. 
 
28 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 IsL AVhy, to prevent its becoming bad. 
 
 2d. Aye, now, that applies to its bad propen- 
 sities. 
 
 l^-^ And to the good ones, too, of those who 
 oppose them. Come hither, Master CIubstatF, 
 come hither, and I'll instruct thee. Thou hast 
 heard, I suppose, that the world is better than 
 four thousand years old. 
 
 2d. Nay, how can that be, when this is only 
 the beginning of the eighteenth century ? 
 
 1st. Thoa art a fool. I tell thee that the world 
 is four thousand years old, thou long ear'd cub 
 thou. 
 
 2d. More's the pity then. 
 
 1^/. And why a pity, prithee ? 
 
 2d. Because its evils must have taken deep root, 
 if that be th' age on't. 
 
 1st. That might have been the case, had the 
 world ever been without watchmen. But as 
 watchmen and magistrates have ever been the 
 surest defence to tlie good against the bad propen- 
 sities of the v/icked, this enlightened age, with 
 all its new fanglcd doctrines and mighty discove- 
 ries, will, I fear, be unable to govern mankind 
 in any other way-— What, I suppose thou art one 
 of the new lights, Master Clubstaff. Prithee, 
 prithee, call the hour, and leave the government 
 to better hands than thine. Who comes here ? — 
 let's step aside. 
 
 2d. Some of the good public, I suppose, from 
 the noise they make. 
 
 Ejiter Joey, singing, and drunk. 
 
 Joey. To be, or (hiccup) not to be, that's the 
 question ; whether 'tis nobler in the (hiccup) arms 
 to take up a sea of troubles, or (hiccup) or bod- 
 kin-— 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 29 
 
 kin — bod — damme, I forgot all about it O ! 
 
 here's my (hicaip) garden gate, and my ducky's 
 window — -Egad, I should like to sing a bit at the 
 other side of the window, for it's devilish cold at 
 this — Hem' — -hem. 
 
 Say, dearest Flora, shall a (hiccup) 
 Of Joey's worth and spirit, 
 
 End all his (hiccup) Halloo, Flora, I say. 
 
 Flora — damme, if she don't come to the window, 
 I'll send a stone at her. 
 
 [As he goes to look for a stones he stumbles 
 against Col. Harily, retitnmig home from 
 his party y and driin/c. Joey seizes him.] 
 Thieves ! murder ! villains ! thieves ! 
 Col. Miscreant, do you (hiccup) mean to rob 
 me ? 
 
 Joei/. (holding him by the collar.) Here, watch ! 
 I say watch ! watch ! watch ! here ! 
 
 Enter Watchmen. 
 
 Gentlemen magistrates of the night, here's 
 a sheep-stealer in disguise, who has assassinated 
 me in salt and batter ; take him (hiccup) away, 
 gentlemen, I'll enter a mandamus against him in 
 the morning, and swear the peace against Justice 
 Mittimus ; take him away, he's a highwayman ; 
 take him away. 
 
 Col. I'm no highwayman, you villain ; I'm 
 (hiccup) Col. Hartly. 
 
 Joey. There, gentlemen, that there now proves 
 him to be a mad man, and, therefore, a danger- 
 ous person to go at large. Take him away to 
 prison. 
 
 Watch. Your honor will have the pleasure to 
 keep him company too. 
 
 Joey. O dear ! O dear ! I'm Joey, indeed I am, 
 gentlemen ! I'm Joey Spigget, indeed I am ! 
 
 Watch. 
 
30 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Watch. Come along, you rascal, come along. 
 
 [ 77?^?/ force them both away, and one of the 
 watchmen takes up a letter that has fallen 
 from the pocket of Colonel Hartly in the 
 sciifle.] 
 
 Scene — A Watch-House. 
 
 Enter Watch?nen with the Prisoiiers. 
 
 [The Captain of the Watch sitting in form.'] 
 
 Capt. Who have you got here ? 
 
 Watch. Pick-pockets and shecp-stealers. 
 
 Capt. Bring 'em in for examination. 
 
 Watchman to Joey — Here, you varlet you, stand 
 upon this stool, and give an account of yourself 
 to his honor the captain general of the peace for 
 the night. 
 
 Joey. O dear ! O dear ! 
 
 Capt. What's your name, you villain ? 
 
 Joey. Joey, an't please your worship's honor. 
 
 Capt. What business do you follow } 
 
 Joey. None, your honor. I'm a very innocent 
 kind of a civil gentleman, that was going (hiccup) 
 home as quiet as a lamb, when I was all at once 
 knocked on the head by that there sheep-stealer 
 (pointing to the Colonel.) 
 
 Watch. Can you find bail } 
 
 Joey. O yes, your worship, I'll step a home a 
 bit to my daddy's — I'll be back in five minutes. 
 [^As he att'cmpts to run off] they seize him, and 
 bri7ig him back.] 
 
 Capt. Take him to the dungeon. No. 7. 
 
 Joey. O dear ! O dear ! I'm Joey, indeed I am ! 
 
 Capt. And what's your name? ( to Col. Hartly.) 
 
 Col. Name ! name ! I forget (hiccup) my name. 
 
 Capt. You are accused ot sheep-stealing. 
 
 Col. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 31 
 
 Col. Curse on your damn'd (hiccup) imperti- 
 nence and your 
 
 Capt. Silence ! you drunken vagrant, silence ! or 
 I'll load you instantly with irons — Your appear- 
 ance is against you, sirrah — No honest man goes 
 prowling about the street at dead of night in such 
 finery as that (pointing to his dress) and the dress 
 of a gentleman was put on to disguise your evil 
 intentions, I suppose. I fine you twenty shillings 
 for a contempt of the court, sirrah. Search him 
 if he won't pay willingly. (They search him.) 
 
 Watch. We find no money upon him, but here's 
 his watch, of some value I suppose. 
 
 Capt. Bring it here, and take the prisoner to 
 the cell No. 6. 
 
 [Exit a Watchman and the Colonel. 
 
 Capt. of the Watch to the rest. Well, my lads, 
 you now deserve well of your Country and your 
 Captain. I smok'd the Colonel as soon as I clapt 
 my eyes upon him. 
 
 Watch. Here's a letter we found, that had fallen 
 from his pocket. 
 
 Capt. Give us ! Give us !• — Now if he should 
 get sober in the m-orning, and accuse us of taking 
 his watch, you must all bear witness, that you 
 found him dead drunk, and asleep, in the street, 
 and that some street prowler must have rifled his 
 pockets in that helpless situation, and thrown 
 away the letter which you found — I'll give the 
 justice the letter ; it will look like honesty — you 
 take me — 
 
 All — Aye, aye. 
 Come then, let's go and take a wet upon strength 
 on't. [Exit all. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND ACT. 
 
 ACT 
 
S2 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene — A Street. Alderman Mittimus'^- House. 
 Enter Watchmen with the Prisoners. 
 
 {The Captain of the Watch enters the door of the 
 Alderman. ^^ 
 
 Col. For Heaven's sake, gentlemen, don't ex- 
 pose me — (takes o?ie of them apart) — My friend, 
 I'm a gentleman well known to Justice iSIittimus, 
 and would not for the world he should find me in 
 this situation — I have no money about me at pre- 
 sent, but if you'll step home with me, I'll give 
 you a couple of guineas for sparing me this inter- 
 view with the alderman. 
 
 Watch. Why, as to that, Sir, when a gentle- 
 man is a gentleman, I don't care to see him with- 
 out a friend upon such an occasion ; and to save a 
 worthy gentleman's reputation, why I would do, 
 perhaps, as much as another ; but as our Captain 
 has made his report to the Alderman, I should 
 lose my place, if I let you off now. 
 
 Col. Well then, I promise you a guinea if you 
 will only lend me your hat and great coat ; they 
 will disguise me sufficiently, and by these means I 
 may save my reputation. 
 
 Watch. Why, as to the matter of that, I'm but 
 a poor man, your honor, and as to the promise of 
 a guinea, why to be sure, one don't like to doubt 
 the word of a real gentleman ; but a bird in the 
 
 hand, your honor, as the saying is 
 
 Col. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. S3 
 
 I 
 
 Col. Heavens ! how unfortunate — Here then, 
 take this ring (putting it in his hand.) 
 
 Watch. Why, to obHge a gentleman ( pulling off 
 his hat and cloak) I always thought was a duty, 
 and I never refuse to do a kindness to a gentleman 
 in distress. 
 
 \Col. Hartly puts on the cloak, and ties the hat 
 under his chin with a liandkerchief. The 
 Captain returns to the door, and calls them 
 all in.^^ 
 
 Scene shifts to a Parlor in the Justice's House. 
 
 [Justice and his Clerk sitting in form.l^ 
 Enter Watchmen zvith the two Prisoners. 
 
 Capt. of the Watch presenting Joey — Here, your 
 worship, is a vagrant we found dead drunk in the 
 street, and in the very act of picking the pocket 
 of a sheep-stealer, I believe — Answer to his honor, 
 you knave. 
 
 Justice. AVho are you, scoundrel } 
 
 Joey. An innocent sort of a young gentleman, 
 of honest parentage and education, your worship's 
 excellency. 
 
 Justice. What is your name, sirrah ? 
 
 Joey. Havn't much of a name yet, your honor, 
 having no great ambition that way^ — 'rm caU'd 
 Joey, your worship. ♦^ 
 
 Justice. What are your means } 
 
 Joey. I mean to go home, if your worship pleases. 
 
 Justice. Sirrah ! answer me to the purpose 
 
 What is your business, trade or occupation, and 
 where do you live or reside? 
 
 Joey. We keep the sign of the Blue Bell, your 
 honor; sells all kinds of ale, your worship, and 
 other spiritual commodities, such as bed, board, 
 and horse hire. 
 
 E Justice. 
 
34 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'p. 
 
 Justice. Silence ! — ^You are charged with having 
 picked pockets on the public highway — of being 
 found dead drunk, and making a disturbance in 
 the neighborhood — invading the tranquillity of the 
 commonwealth, and other illegitimate mal-prac- 
 tices. Answer to it. 
 
 Entej' Miss Mittimus. 
 
 Joey. Why, laud bless your honor's worship, 
 don't you know Joey Spigget at the Blue Bell ? 
 
 Miss Mitt. Why, papa, it is Joey sure enough. 
 
 Justice. No matter, I must do my duty — never- 
 theless — notwithstanding — 
 
 Joey. O dear ! O dear ! 
 
 Justice. Are you guilty, or not guilty ? speak. 
 
 Joey. No, your honor, no indeed, your wor- 
 ship, no more guilty than yourself. I was, to be 
 sure, a little in-for't last night, and as I was 
 a-going home very quietly past Squire Allworthy's 
 garden gate, was a-going to serenade a bit, as 
 they call it, under Miss Flora's window there, 
 having a kind of a sneaking regard for her, your 
 honor, when a great mutton-fisted, disorderly high- 
 way-looking raggamufiin came up to me, and, 
 without saying how do you do, gave me a punch 
 in the guts with the butt end of a blunderbuss as 
 thick as your worship's head, and brought me down, 
 whereupon I stood my ground, and, seizing the 
 villain, found him to be a sheep-stealer. 
 
 Justice. Did you find a sheep upon him ? 
 
 Joey. N — o, not exactly a sheep. 
 
 Justice. How do you know he's a sheep-stealer ? 
 
 Joey. AVhy, I brought the villain to a lamp, and 
 had a full viev/ of his rascally face, and would swear 
 he's a vsheep-stealer, your worship. 
 
 Justice. Did you find a blunderbuss upon him ? 
 
 Joey. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. p5 
 
 Joey. N — o, not exactly a blunderbuss ; but 
 I know he must have had fire-arms about him, 
 and • 
 
 Justice, Silence ! Unless you can find bail in the 
 sum of twenty pounds, you must remain a prisoner 
 until the next term, when you will either be ac- 
 quitted or condemned, according to the laws of 
 your country Take him away. 
 
 Joey. O dear ! I'm Joey, your worship, indeed I 
 (A Watchman takes him away.) 
 
 Justice to the Col. And who are you, pray ? 
 
 Col. An obscure and innocent man. 
 
 Justice. Your obscurity is, I think, in a fair way 
 of perishing on the pillory ; and as for your inno- 
 cence, you may reserve that, if you please, for 
 your last dying speech and confession. What's 
 your name ? 
 
 Col. Thomas AVelt (somewhat confused.) 
 
 Justice. Put down Thomas Welt (to his Clerk.) 
 -And pray, what business do you follow .^ 
 
 Col. I'm in no business at present — I was once 
 by trade a shoe-maker. 
 
 Justice. Where do you live, reside, or dwell, at 
 present ? 
 
 Col. I live — I live — Sir, a little way out of town. 
 
 Justice. A pretty story indeed. Give me that 
 letter there f ^o his Clerk) — Do you know any 
 thing of that letter, sirrah ? It is addressed to Col. 
 Hartly. How came you by it ? It fell from your 
 pocket — Speak ! 
 
 Col. I — -I" — -upon my soul, I know nothing about 
 it. 
 
 Justice. Read its contents (to his Clcr^k.) 
 (Clerk reads.) 
 Dear Colonel, 
 
 Your letter arrived so late Jast evening, that it 
 
 was 
 
36 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 was not in my power to return an answer to it 
 then. I have repeatedly called at Mother Davis's, 
 to endeavor to get a sight of your little rose-bud 
 there, but without success, for she persists in re- 
 fusing to see every body but Nancy, who informs 
 me, that Juliet (for so Nancy calls her) has learned 
 somehow or other, that you are engaged to be 
 married to Miss Allworthy, and she has endea- 
 vored, by great promises, to induce this girl to 
 carry a letter to Eliza's father, but Nancy, true to 
 her trust, finds in your purse too good an argu- 
 ment to relinquish a certainty for the silly promises 
 of a foolish girl who has not a six-pence to save 
 her soul, and — — 
 
 Col. No more. Sir. That letter is, I find, of a 
 private nature, and, whether a real or a forged 
 one, has no relation to the circumstances which 
 have brought me hither. 
 
 Justice, (eying him attentively ) Sheep-stealer ! 
 some sharper, I believe, eh ! What, what sort of 
 a dress is here ? Silk stockings and silver buckles, 
 and under a nasty cloak too, that one of our watch- 
 men would be ashamed to own^ — ^Strip the curr 
 instantly, and let's look at the inside of the puppy ! 
 (Here Col. Ilartly throivs off his hat and cloak.) 
 
 Col. There, Sir ! are you now satisfied ? 
 
 (The Justice, his Davghter, and Clerk, iire 
 thrown into consternation.) 
 
 Col. Justice Mittimus ! since an unfoitunate 
 frolic ha$ betrayed me into a situation so embar- 
 rassing, and has exposed me to the rapacity of a 
 set of unprincipled scoundrels, whose custom, in- 
 stead of keeping the peace, is not only to be the 
 first to violate it, but also to commit the shame- 
 fullest exactions on all, especially on such as have 
 the misfortune to appear like gentlemen, by taking' 
 
 undue 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 37 
 
 undue advantage of their situation, to extort mo- 
 ney, or compel them to acts of violence and out- 
 rage, for the villainous pretence to justify commit- 
 ment — And as you must be very sensible, that no 
 misdemeanor on my part could have provoked 
 such infamous conduct towards me, I hope you 
 will have generosity enough to keep this affair 
 from the world, and justice enough to impute this 
 instance of apparent impropriety in my conduct 
 to the effects of an indiscretion of which I am al- 
 ready made so painfully sensible ; and on which 
 account I promise you to make all the reparation 
 in my power, and to your entire satisfaction. 
 
 Justice. Why, Mr. A¥elt-— Col. Hartly (I beg 
 your pardon) — I confess I am'not a little surprised 
 to see a gentleman of your excessive rectitude of 
 life and rigid morality, brought into a situation in 
 which there is so little appearance of either ; but 
 since it has been the effects merely of inebriation 
 and frolic, I see no great harm in it ; but the let- 
 ter, Col. Hartly, the letter 
 
 Col. I pledge my honor. Sir. 
 
 Miss Mitt. Your word, you ought to say — So- 
 phia's wrongs speak loudly against your honor. 
 
 Col. Miss Mittimus, let mc entreat you to sifs- 
 pend your conjectures on this affair — I — I — the 
 letter is no proof — 
 
 Miss Mitt. — Of a very honorable conduct, I 
 tear. Col. 
 
 Justice. Well, well, we will suspend our con- 
 jectures for the present ; but remember, that a full 
 and satisfactory defence of your conduct in this 
 particular,, is the only condition on which I can 
 ever think of keeping it a secret from Squire All- 
 worthy. My sense of justice (duty and respect 
 out of the question) forbids—- 
 
 (Tlw 
 
"1^8 ITHE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 CThe Col. here takes him 63/ the hand, and whis- 
 pers to him J 
 
 Justice. Leave the room (to his Daughter, Clerk, 
 
 and Watchmen) — True, Sir, true 1 — I — very 
 
 true indeed. Sir. Well, Sir, you need not give 
 yourself the trouble to bring it — -I'm just going to 
 call at the Blue Bell, to engage a person there to 
 corne to my house to teach my daughter to play on 
 the harpsichord ; after which I'll call at your 
 house ; for I've a little matter to make up to-day, 
 and it will be a very seasonable relief, I assure 
 you. 
 
 Col. I'll have the money ready for you. Sir — • 
 twenty dollars. 
 
 Mitt. Exactly, Sir, twenty dollars. 
 
 Col. Sir, your most obedient. [Exit Col. 
 
 Justice. No bad morning's work' — Egad, as I 
 live, he's forgot the letter (taking it up from, the 
 table) — Now I'll secure the good opinion of Squire 
 Allworthy, by sending him this letter immediately. 
 Thus I shall preserve the character of an upright 
 and impartial judge, and satisfy at once both pocket 
 and conscience CAs he goes off') — ^The testi- 
 mony of a good conscience is worth all the trea- 
 sures of the world. [Exit Mitt. 
 
 Scene shifts to an Apartment in ^pigget^ s House. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand aiid Capt. Allworthy. 
 
 Ed. I was going to bring Col. Hartly with me, 
 but before you meet, I intend to tell him (for I 
 like to behold the inconsistency of hypocrisy, and 
 to detect it — and, by the way, I have no very high 
 opinion of the Colonel's sanctity, notwithstanding 
 all my mother says about it) — I intend to repre- 
 sent you as a person of great wealth and family 
 
 connections. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. ^9 
 
 connections, that I may mark the incongruity of 
 his countenance and speech, when, instead of a 
 person of rank and fortune, he finds thee out to be 
 a needy disciple of Apollo — Egad, I should not be 
 surprised, were his absurd notions of respectability 
 to lead him to question even thy honor and hon- 
 esty ; for a man of Col. Hartly's notions of honor, 
 differs very widely from what you and I think of 
 that matter. 
 
 Fer. I suppose so. The trite and fashionable 
 opinion of the term implies by no means that qual- 
 ity which differs nothing from honesty, except in 
 its being displayed in a genteeler style, but that 
 modern conceit, which generally supplies the want 
 of it. 
 
 Enter a SERVANXi 
 -Justice Mittimus, Sir. 
 
 Kd. Mittimus ? Detain him a few moments. — * 
 
 \Exit Servant. 
 "What the devil can have brought him here, I 
 wonder ? This fellow was once literally a pedlar: 
 he is now upwards of sixty, and is very wealthy, 
 for he has been starving himself all his life time, 
 to acquire a sufficiency to live upon when he sets 
 about dying. 
 
 Enter Mittimus. 
 
 Mitt. Servant, Sir, how do you do. Captain I 
 Capt. Most obedient. Justice Mittimus. 
 Mitt, (to Fer.) You are the person, I presume, 
 Sir, who intends teaching the Piano Forte (as they 
 call it.) My daughters have been teasing me ever 
 since they heard of your arrival, to get them taught. 
 If your terms are moderate, I should have no ob- 
 jection to engage with you, for I don't mind a few 
 
 dollars. 
 
40 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 dollars, by way of encouraging the arts among us. 
 Suppose you take a dish of tea at our house this 
 afternoon, and who knows but we may strike up- 
 on a bargain ? 
 
 JF^er. (bowing.) I'm engag'd this evening, but 
 sbqie, other time I may do myself the honor to 
 wait upon you, Sir. 
 
 Mitt. Well, well, then the next day. Here, 
 
 Sir, is my card — -We shall be glad to see you — 
 
 and I dare say shan't boggle at a trifle. Good 
 
 morning to you, gentlemen. [_Exit Mitt. 
 
 (Captain and Ferdinand both laugh.) 
 
 Capt. Here is a glorious specimen of one of our 
 apes of quality, who would fain pass for a man of 
 taste, and a promoter of the sciences, with as lit- 
 tle judgment as his cook maid, and less learning 
 than Artley's pig. 
 
 Fer. If such are the only patronisers of the arts 
 and sciences among you, in vain will genius, as- 
 sisted by fortitude and patience, strive to raise a 
 monument to fame, where the only material ne- 
 cessary for such an edifice, is within the grasp of 
 every dirty pedlar ; and where the chief criterion 
 of merit, talents, and understanding, is marked 
 upon the scale of pounds, shillings, and pence. 
 
 Enter Thomas xvith a letter. 
 
 (Ferdinand reads it ivith great attention.) 
 Capt. (observing him — looks at his ivatch) I have 
 staid with you beyond my time — I shall call again 
 in the course of the day ; at present I must take 
 my leave. [Exit. 
 
 Fer. (pausing.) Was ever being so cursedly 
 perplexed ? Such importunities, and the illiberal 
 manner with which it is tendered, will, I fear, 
 drive me to the lamentable alternative of applying 
 
 to 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 41 
 
 to my friend for assistance, by which I may not 
 only meet with a repulse, but be in danger ot 
 losing the only good I have left to pride myself 
 
 upon — the consolation of a friend' (pauses) — 
 
 (reads) — Unless, therefore, you can raise this sum 
 iy ten in the morning, an immediate prosecution 
 will be the consequence — (Rings the bell.) 
 
 Enter Thomas. 
 
 Thom.as, desire Mr. Spigget to step in. 
 
 [Exit Thomas, 
 
 Enter J/y*. Spigget. 
 
 What may you please to want, Sir ? 
 
 Fer. I have a little business to transact this 
 morning in the money way, Mr. Spigget — Can you 
 inform me of any person whose profession it is to 
 do this kind of business ? 
 
 Spig, Anan ! 
 
 Fer. Do you know of any person whose busi- 
 ness it is to buy and sell stock, public securities — 
 or — or — Do you know of any money-broker ? 
 
 Spig. Aye, aye, I take you now. Yes, I do 
 know of a very mighty kind of a civil gentleman 
 in that way ; his name is Fungus, Sir ; but he's 
 spongy — you take me. 
 
 Fer. Spongy — spongy — Do you mean that he 
 is porus — light — 'Or 
 
 Spig. No, no, you en't up to it. I mean that 
 he's leechy, devilish leechy. Sir. 
 
 Fer. O yes, I comprehend you now. You mean 
 that he is a blood-sucker, I suppose ; but it's of 
 little consequence to me should he be a cannibal, so 
 I can get my business done by him as well as by 
 another ; they are all alike, I believe, Mr. Spigget. 
 Shew me a money-broker who is not leechy, and 
 
 F I'll 
 
42 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 ■J'll shew you a leech that can't sack blood j but 
 pray, where does this blood-hound reside ? 
 Spig. Not twenty paces from my door. Sir..' 
 Fe?-. Shew me the way, and I'll go to him in- 
 stantly. [Exit both. 
 
 Scene changes to a Broker^s Office. 
 
 [Fungus at his Desk.^ 
 
 Enter Ferdinand Temple. 
 
 E"e7\ Your name is Fungus, I presume. 
 
 Fnn. The same, Sir, very much at your service. 
 Won't you be seated. Sir ? What may your busi- 
 ness be ? • 
 
 Fer. My business. Sir, is that which a modest 
 man would wish to conceal ; a prudent man sel- 
 dom engages in; and which avarice and knavery 
 encourages to grow fat upon. 
 
 Fun. Sir (staring) r 
 
 Fer. It is a painful disorder, generally contract- 
 ed by the imprudences of youth ; and the only 
 medicine on earth, from which a temporary cure 
 niay be derived, but lulls for a moment the acute- 
 ness of the pain, and leaves the constitution wretch- 
 ed as before. 
 
 Fun. Ha — ha — ^ha — why, why — ha — ha — ha — 
 he takes me for a surgeon. Sir, you're under a 
 mistake ; I'm no surgeon — ha ! ha I ha ! 
 
 Fer. I came not hither on my own account ; 1 
 was driven by the implacable fury of a merciless 
 dame, who, because I slighted her beauty, and 
 paid courtly dalliance to another, has, in a fit of 
 jealousy, discarded me, forever. 
 
 Fun. AVhy the devil didn't she send you to Doc- 
 tor Church, then ? 
 
 Fer, I a]ii come, therefore, for consolation, like 
 
 the 
 
• THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 43 
 
 the debauchee who applies again to that bowl the 
 day after the preceding one in which he lost his 
 senses. 
 
 Fun. Faith, I believe you have, indeed, lost 
 your wits. 
 
 Fer. No, Sir, I Imve only lost my money. 
 
 Fim. Humph !• — ^I take you now — Why, 
 
 that's worse still. 
 
 Fer. By no means, for every fool can make mo- 
 ney, but wit is the gift of Heaven. 
 
 Fim. Heaven help you then, good Sir. 
 
 Fer.. I stand more in need of fools' help. 
 
 Fun. Then you niay help yourself, perhaps. 
 
 Fer. Not without money. 
 
 Fun. Then the money will help you 
 
 Fer. And I the money. . 
 
 Fun. How so ? 
 
 Fer. 'Tis witli money as with charity ; the bene- 
 faction feeds itself. Pray, Sir, do you not lend 
 money ^ 
 
 F?(n. Upon good security I sometimes do ; but 
 I don't think I could raise twenty pounds at pre- 
 sent upon any terms, Sir. 
 
 Fer. I want five hundred pounds upon my own 
 note, and I want it by to-morrow morning early. 
 If you can advanccme this sum at a moderate pre- 
 mium, I shall thank vou. 
 
 Fun. I should be extremely happy to accom- 
 modate you. Sir ; but money is at present so 
 scarce, and all that I have got to lend out in this 
 way, is already appropriated ; and it is a rule with 
 us. Sir, never to discount any note unless endorsed 
 by some respectable inhabitant, whose circum- 
 stances are well known. Perhaps you have some 
 friend who would endorse for you — I don't know 
 but I might be able to procure this sum. 
 
 Fer. 
 
44 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Fer. Indeed, Sir, I don't know -whether I have 
 or not ; however, I'll try, and return to you again. 
 Fun. Will you please. Sir, to give me yournanie 
 and address ? (Ferdinand leaves his eard.) 
 
 [Exit Fer, 
 Fun. The greediest gudgeon this I ever found 
 nibbling at my hook — I must away to the Colonel 
 with this news — 'It will delight his soul. 
 
 [Exit Fun. 
 
 Scene changes to a Parlor iriMr. Alkcorthi/s House. 
 
 [Eliza at Work — Mr. Allworthy ^finishing a 
 Letter.] 
 
 All. You shall hear what I have written, Eliza. 
 f Reads.; 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As you have not yet thought proper to call at 
 my house since the discovery of those circum- 
 stances, so apparently injurious to your character, 
 and as I cannot but feel myself insulted in your 
 late attempts to impose on the credulity of my 
 family ; and a just resentment at the still baser 
 designs you had planned for the destruction of an 
 innocent female, whose story I have yet but im- 
 perfectly learned, I must here call upon you for 
 that defence which, to remove my suspicions, I 
 have a right to expect, or your silence will be con- 
 strued into an evidence of your guilt. 
 
 (Here, John^ take this letter immediately to 
 Col. Hartlys.) [Exit John. 
 
 You say your brother has not heard of this adven- 
 ture yet ? 
 
 Eliza. No, papa, I believe not ; and I'm afraid 
 to make him acquainted with the circumstances 
 
 with' 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 4B 
 
 with which I fear it is connected ; for if the So- 
 phia in question should prove to be the sister of 
 Mr. Temple, I know of no violence which his re- 
 sentment might not urge him to commit on the 
 person of that accomplished villain, Hartly. I 
 shall, therefore, keep him ignorant of every thing 
 relative to it, until proof as strong as holy writ 
 shall warrant the disclosure. 
 
 AIL Is it not time that Eddy should be here 
 with his friend ? 
 
 Eliza. I wish they would come 1 long to 
 
 take my first lesson. I hope he'll be very patient 
 with me, for he told me yesterday, that the Spanish 
 guittar was very difficult to learn — O, here they 
 come. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand and Edmund. 
 
 All. Well, gentlemen, we were just expecting 
 you. Eliza is impatient for her first lesson. If 
 (to Mr. Temple) you were at leisure. Sir, I don't 
 know a better opportunity for a beginning, as I 
 am going to take my son out on a little business, 
 and Mrs. Allworthy is otherwise engaged. 
 
 Fer. I am always at leisure for any employ- 
 ment in which Miss Allworthy may please to en- 
 gage me. [Exit Mr. All. ^ Son. 
 
 Eliza. I wish your patience may equal your 
 goodness and condescension, Sir, as I fear my 
 want of genius may render the task of teaching 
 somewhat painful to you. 
 
 Fer. That task can never be attended with 
 pain, which has for its recompense the acknow-^ 
 ledgments of those we most esteem. 
 
 Eliza. But your task will be rendered doubly 
 hard, Sir; for, besides conferring the greatest ob- 
 iigation, I fear you wall havQ to teach me how to 
 
 estimate 
 
4(31 IHE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 estimate rightly. — f Ferdinand, bows.) — I remem- 
 ber. Sir, how much I used to be delighted with 
 your song, and performance . on the harpsichord, 
 but I think you say the Spanish guittar is still bet- 
 ter adapted to the voice. Could I prevail on you. 
 Sir, to favor me with an instance of . its superiori- 
 tyi I should feel myself greatly indebted to your 
 goodness. 
 (Ferdinand bows, takes up the guittar, and sings. J 
 
 To softest melody my song 
 I tun'd ; and thus delighted 
 She pensive gat the whole day long, 
 And thus my heart was plighted. 
 
 More vivid than the enamell'd grove, 
 That hails the infant year, 
 I saw the crimson blush of love, 
 And drop the pearly tear. 
 
 The magic power that seiz'd my heart, 
 Gave language to my tongue, 
 And never shepherd did impart 
 More sympathetic song. 
 
 Blest with the hope, which heaven-born fate 
 To matchless love had giv'n. 
 My bosom glow'd with fervent heat — 
 To think on thee, was heav'n. 
 
 Eliza. Heigh ho I 
 
 Fer. I fear my song has tired your patience. 
 
 Eliza. No, indeed Sir ; I could listen to it again 
 a thousand times, and if you will be kind enough 
 to put it down in writing, I will learn it all by 
 heart ; I will wear it in my bosom, and, when I 
 feel myself dispirited, I'll read it o'er, and that 
 will cure me (hiding her eonfusion.) 
 
 Fer. Good heavens ! and would that beo^uile 
 you- or a moment s pam r 
 
 Eliza, 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 47 
 
 Eliza. Yes! were I certain that you sometimes 
 thought of me. • •, 
 
 Fer. Eliza, I am both poor and proud. . . .. 
 
 [Exit ahruptlij. 
 
 (Elista, astonished at his departure, .throzi^ 
 
 m herself cm a sofa. J ''^f *' ^'.^^f^,' 
 
 Enter Flora; ■ "- 
 
 Flora. Did you ring, ma'am .^ 
 
 Eliza. No, not that I K.now of — 'Where is my 
 brother ? ' . -'"'•' ■-— - - 
 
 Flora. He has but just left the house, and, fror^ 
 the manner in which his friend has followed hir^; 
 I presume he has received a box on the car for his 
 instruction fee. ^'\!j^ 
 
 Eliza. Have you heard any thing more about 
 the letter and Sophia ? ,., 
 
 Flora. YeS, ma'am, and more to Col. Har.tly'^ 
 disgrace than ever. Mr. Joey Spigget tells me, 
 that the Sophia mentioned in that letter, is cer- 
 tainly Sophia Temple, and that the Col, ha's thrbwi,! 
 her into the house of a very vile woman, for the 
 worst of purposes, 
 
 Eliza. Perfidious wretch ! Could neither com- 
 passion, humanity, nor the entreaties of sufFcring 
 innocence, restrain thy base inordinate intent ?-tt. 
 Does my brother know of it yet, Flora ? 
 
 Flora. I believe not, ma'am. 
 
 Eliza. Nor Mr. Temple ? 
 
 Flora. Not that I know of. 
 
 Eliza. I'm glad of it. 'Tis time enough ito 
 strip the hypocrite of his mask. There is no dis- 
 grace so piercing, as that which hurls the guilty 
 from their fancied security. Detected knavery 
 then confounds them, most, because 'tis least ex- 
 pected. Lend me your arm, Flora. [Exit both. 
 
 Scene — 
 
4lB THE HYPOCRITE UKMASIC'd. 
 
 Scene — A Library. 
 
 Col. Hartly (throwing dozvn a letter.) 
 
 This damn'd adventure, will to light, I fear. 
 Bring all the circumstances of my guilt. 
 And thereby force against a tottering fame, ^. 
 So lately rais'd by circumspective wiles. 
 Such formidable charge, that knavery, 
 With iall its juggling art and cunning deep, 
 In vain must strive to save. 
 
 . O guilt ! foul guilt ! 
 
 Cursed, cursed infatuation! which betrayed 
 My goaded heart to crimes against the voice 
 Of conscience, that unerring rule of life, 
 Whose admonitions are the laws of God. 
 Whence ! whence these foul propensities in man ? 
 We comprehend the evil and the good. 
 To which our nature's prone by reason's lamp. 
 And know we cannot lose the just reward 
 Of righteous deeds — -yet spurn the good we know. 
 
 Mere sophistry and phantom this. 
 
 That would persuade us to relinquish good 
 
 And rare enjoyment, under vague pretence 
 
 Of future happiness, we know not of. 
 
 If such be that compunctive voice that lurks 
 
 About our intellectual sense, to rob. 
 
 To plunder us of all our better joys. 
 
 And with fell poison drench those streams of bliss. 
 
 In which our greatest pleasures flow ! Avaunt, 
 
 Thou haggard monster of disordered thought. 
 
 Thou scourge of scorpions ^ that my soul would vex 
 
 With deep disquietude as black as bell. 
 
 And urge my senses to despair — Come then. 
 
 Hypocrisy, with all thy mystic art. 
 
 And teach me how suspicions glare to cheat ; 
 
 Teach me how seeming candor, and the look 
 
 Of unsuspecting virtue, may deceive the world. 
 
 And hide my dark designs from man. 
 
 Enter* 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 4^ 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Capt. AUworthy and another gentleman. 
 
 Sir. 
 
 Col. Shew them in. I suppose he has brought 
 with him the stranger he promised to introduce to 
 me. The Captain speaks of him in the highest 
 terms. He has a great fortune too. I must en- 
 deavor to impress him with a favorable opinion of 
 my virtues ; it may serve to lessen the Squire's sus- 
 picion of my integrity, for I presume the Captain 
 will take a pleasure in making this worthy stranger 
 intimate at his father's. 
 
 Enter Capt. Allwortry ^'Ferdinand Temple. 
 
 Capt. Co\. Hartly, I have the honor to make you 
 acquainted with my friend Mr, Temple. 
 
 fCol. Hartly startles at the name.) 
 
 Col. I consider everv occasion which skives me 
 an opportunity of cultivating an acquaintance with 
 Capt. AUworthy, or any of his friends, an effec- 
 tual way of promoting my own happiness. I hope, 
 Mr. Temple, the reception you will meet with in 
 our city, may induce you to think well of us. 
 
 Fer. From what 1 have already seen of it, and 
 from the civilities of my new friends, I am per- 
 suaded that my residence here will be as pleasant 
 as I trust it will be profitable, for 
 
 Capt. All. ( plucking Ferdinand by the coat) Mr. 
 Temple, Sir, is a nice observer of men and man- 
 ners, and hopes to add something to the know- 
 ledge he has already acquired of the v/orld ; a 
 knowledge so essential to all, but especially to 
 such as hold any considerable rank in life ; and 
 that the acquisition may be profitable. 
 
 Col. True, Sir, a knowledge of the world is cer- 
 tainly more necessary to people of rank and for- 
 
 G tune. 
 
50 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 tune, than it can be to those Vv^hose fortunes are 
 generally made by them. The coin that is most 
 current among mankind, is flattery ; and the cars 
 of the wealthy are those to which it is chiefly di- 
 rected. 
 
 Fer. And through that medium to their purses, 
 I think ; for people seldom flatter without motive, 
 and rarely bestow adulation where they do not 
 expect to be paid for it. 
 
 Capt. True ; and the only innocent flattery I 
 know of, is that which our modern coxcombs are 
 so prodigal of — they lavish it indiscriminately on 
 either sex, with as little harm as meaning : but an 
 artful flatterer, by a nice discrimination, and ju- 
 dicious management of it, never fails to make 
 dupes of the men, and downright fools of the 
 women. 
 
 Col. There is this advantage, however, to be 
 derived from it, that by hearing what we are not, 
 we may be instructed what we ought to be. But 
 come, gentlemen, we shall be led by these reflec- 
 tions into a train of moralising at the expense of 
 greater pleasure. It is a delightful day^ — ^Suppose 
 we take a walk in the garden — I have been mak- 
 ing some improvements there — I know of no re- 
 creation more delightful to a pure and contempla- 
 tive mind, than a flower garden ; it affords at once 
 both instruction and amusement. \_E.XLt all. 
 
 Enter Fribble. 
 
 This is about the hour the little French mil- 
 liner was to come with the Colonel's ruflles- 
 
 Egad, I wish the little gypsey would arrive while 
 my master is plucking daisies in the flower gar- 
 den — I think I should stand a good chance (ad- 
 miring himself J to have a pluck at his rose-bud in 
 
 the 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd- 51 
 
 r 
 
 the library Egad, here she comes, I be- 
 lieve. 
 
 Enie?' Milliner. 
 
 Mill. Servant, Sir. 
 
 Fj-ib. Most obedient, pretty Miss. 
 
 Mill. Pray, Sar, is Monsieur de Colonel at home? 
 
 F?'ib, Yes, my little queen of love, but he's in 
 the garden. O ! propitious hour, which, while it 
 engages him in the contemplation of the tawdry 
 pink, brings to my arms the richest flower that 
 ever shed its sweets. 
 
 Mill. Vere, Sar, vere is de flower ? 
 
 Prib. I mean that lilly neck, that rosy lip, that 
 bosom of delio-ht ! 
 
 Mill. O, Sar, you be very much de mimitation 
 of de Colonel your master. 
 
 Frib. I acknowledge no other servitude but that 
 which the radiance ot those eyes have imposed ; to 
 your superior charms I confess myself an humble 
 slave f miffing his arm round her waist.) 
 
 Mill. O, la, Sar, suppose de Colonel should come 
 ■in, vat vould he sav } 
 
 Frib. Mistress of my soul ! step in with me, 
 then, to the next apartment j we shall there be 
 secure from every eye. (She struggles.) 
 
 Frib. On my knees — 
 
 Re-enter Col. Hartly. 
 
 (Fribble., observing him., continues) — On my knees, 
 I implore you not to leave the house until my mas- 
 ter returns — 'He'll be back again presently — I be- 
 seech you stay, he is one of the worthiest of men, 
 and — O here he is. It was with difficulty. Sir, I 
 could prevail on the lady to wait your return, 
 
 and ' 
 
 Col. 
 
52 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd." 
 
 Col. Leave the room, sirrah. [Exit Frib. 
 
 Well, my dear, have you brought the ruffles, and 
 a heart as yielding as the ardor of my love is ? 
 
 (A rapping at the door.) 
 
 Mill. Ola, Sar, vat shall I do ? I vould not 
 be seen alone vid you for de vole vorld — I should 
 be de ruined. 
 
 Col. Confusion ! ! Step into this apartment for a 
 fev^ moments (locks her up. J 
 
 Col. Come in. 
 
 Enter Fungus. 
 
 Mr. Fungus, what is your business, pray ? for 
 I am much engaged at present, and cannot be de- 
 tained long. 
 
 Fun. There are some notes presented to me yes- 
 terday for discount — I think we may be able to 
 squeeze eight or ten per cent, a month out of some 
 of them. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 -Capt. Allworthy, Sir. 
 
 / 
 
 Col. Mr. Fungus, this is somewhat unexpect- 
 ed — I but this moment parted with Captain All- 
 worthy — Heavens ! I would not have you seen 
 here for the world ; it might create suspicion. 
 
 Fun. O Sir, make yourself easy. Colonel, make 
 yourself easy' — I'll step into this apartment for a 
 few moments (going to that in which the Milliner 
 is concealed.) 
 
 Col. Stay, stay — ^I — I — damn it, the key of that 
 room is unfortunately lost- — I am sorry to be com- 
 pelled to it, but would you have the goodness to 
 stand behind the chimney-board ? (taking the board 
 aivay from the ^fire-place)- — You shan't stay long, 
 I promise you — I'm very sorry — 
 
 Fuji. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 68 
 
 Fun. Any thing, any thing to oblige the Col. 
 CCol. Hartly puts him behind it.) 
 
 Enter Capt. Allworthy . 
 
 Capt. All. I have made you this unexpected 
 visit, Colonel, to propose to you to join in a little 
 visit of ceremony to-morrow ; but first tell me, 
 what do you think of Mr. Temple ? The study of 
 physiognomy I conceive to be as necessary to a 
 man of the world, as anatomy is to the surgeon — - 
 neither can operate safely without it. 
 
 Col. True ; but the study of the former is the 
 most certain of the two — ^The human countenance 
 frequently exhibiting contradictions so strikingly 
 opposite to the general rules by which this science 
 is supported, that its disciples are often confound- 
 ed by the paradox. 
 
 Capt. All. It is certainly a difficult thing to as- 
 certain the moral qualities of the mind from the 
 structure of the features ; but I think it by no 
 means difficult to discover whether a man has a 
 just pretension to the rank and consideration of a 
 gentleman, from his appearance and demeanor. 
 In this particular I wish to know your opinion of 
 Mr, Temple. 
 
 Col. Sir, I know of nothing which admits of 
 proof less questionable, than that of deportment 
 to the title and consideration you speak of. Mr. 
 Temple is, in my opinion, all, and more than you 
 have represented him to be. The moment you 
 presented him, I saw in his countenance some- 
 thing which bespoke him a person of no inferior 
 rank. The ease and gentlemanly confidence he 
 possesses, is the strongest indication, in my opin- 
 ion, of his respectability, I have*" ever thought. 
 Sir, that a becoming confidence is a natural re- 
 sult. 
 
34 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASKED. 
 
 suit, arising from a consciousness of our own 
 worth ; and that timidity and bashfulness are the 
 surest symptoms of vulgarity and meanness. 
 
 Capt. You have judged rightly. Mr. Temple 
 is, I assure you, the very essence of respectability. 
 What say you, Colonel, of making one of our 
 party to-morrow, and return him the visit he made 
 you to-day ? This is the visit of ceremony I had to 
 propose. 
 
 Col. With all my heart, Captain ; I will do my- 
 self the honor to wait upon you for that purpose. 
 
 Capt. Adieu, then, for the present. 
 
 [^Exit Capt. 
 
 Col. Sir, your most obedient. 
 
 Col. Now which of the two prisoners shall I 
 release first? If I should liberate this money vul- 
 ture, his business with me may be too long for my 
 female captive, v;dio, impelled by that devilish 
 spirit of curiosity so inseparable from the sex, may 
 disregard the consequences of a discovery, and 
 thus betray me to a rascal, whose good opinion I 
 may find it necessary to cultivate, lest at any fu- 
 ture period, he may have reason to rejoice in the 
 opportunity which such a circumstance might af- 
 ford him, to confound my reputation. I must, 
 therefore, relinquish the pleasure I had hoped from 
 one, to secure myself against the treachery of the 
 other. (He goes and releases the AlilUner.J Hist ! 
 hist ! not a word for the universe, or we are dis- 
 covered. I'll receive you at 12 to-night, at the 
 garden-gate. [^Exit Mill. 
 
 (Opens the chimney-board — Fungus comes out^ 
 covered over with soot, ivipmg himself with 
 his handkerchief.) 
 
 Col. Dear Mr. Fungus, what apology can I 
 make ? I had no other alternative, to prevent sus- 
 picion. Fun^ 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 55 
 
 Fun. My good Sir, if the expedient has answer- 
 ed the end you proposed by it, I am perfectly satis- 
 fied, Colonel, No apology, my good Sir ; no 
 apology, I pray you. 
 
 Col. You are too good, Mr. Fungus, indeed 
 you are ; but I hope the business which brought 
 you here, may be attended with a profit equal to 
 the concern I have felt for your sufferings. 
 
 Fun. I think it very probable. Sir. Here (giv- 
 ing him notes) are the notes I acquainted you with 
 before. But, Sir, I have had a greedy gudgeon 
 at my hook, who wants five hundred pounds to- 
 morrow morning early : he seems in great distress 
 for the money, and has so liberal a spirit withal, 
 that I know of no premium we may not expect 
 for the accommodation. His name. Sir, is Fer- 
 dinand Temple. 
 
 Col. Ferdinand Temple, say you ? are you sure? 
 is it Ferdinand Temple ? 
 
 Fun. Yes, Sir, and he puts up at the Blue Bell. 
 
 Col. (in an extasy) Fortune, I thank thee ! as- 
 sist my farther contrivance, and all may yet go 
 
 well. (Aside.) Mr. Fungus, you must see 
 
 him as soon as you can, and require a good en- 
 dorser: I suspect to whom he will apply, and should 
 it be Capt. Alhvorthy, you may lend him double 
 the sum, if he wants it ; but be sure you get a 
 round premium for it. 
 
 Fun. Let me alone for that. Sir, your most 
 
 obedient. \F.xit Fun. 
 
 Col. Ha — ha — ha — ha^ — This is the man of rank 
 and fortune, and the very essence of respectability. 
 I thought what he was from his damn'd confi- 
 dence. It would appear, however, that neither 
 he nor Capt. Alhvorthy are yet acquainted with 
 the letter which that damn'd treacherous Mittimus 
 
 must 
 
56 THE HYPOCRiTE UNMASK'd. 
 
 must have shewn to the old gentleman. Yes, it 
 
 must be Sophia's own brother, sure enough 
 
 (pauses) 1 have it now. This scheme will at 
 
 any rate bring to view the real condition of a man 
 whose merits might otherwise make him a dan- 
 gerous rival. I will send him a letter as from his 
 sister, to prevent a discovery, and hold him up as 
 the author of the other ; for if once he gains an in- 
 timacy in the Squire's family, the unsuspecting 
 heart of Eliza may soon be conquered, and by that 
 means he may wrest from me a fortune which I 
 have long considered as my own. Thus will I 
 nip the golden prospect in the bud. [Exit Col. 
 
 Scene shifts to a Broker s Office. 
 
 [Fungus writing.^ 
 
 Enter Ferdinand Temple. 
 
 Fer. Here, Sir, I have now brought you my 
 note, endorsed by Captain Allworthy (gives tJie 
 note.) 
 
 Fun. A very good name. Sir, none better, I as- 
 sure you 5 but, as I said before, money is so scarce, 
 and 
 
 Fer. Why, what the devil ? I hope you don't 
 mean to disappoint me, after what has passed. 
 
 Fun. Why, Sir, to be plain with you, I have 
 no money at present at my command, that I can 
 loan under eight per cent, a month — If that will 
 suit you 
 
 Fer. Well, well, if it must be so, let me know 
 then what will be coming to me. 
 
 Fun. Let me see — let me see — the note is for 
 five hundred pounds, at 30 days — there will then 
 be due to you four hundred and sixty pounds ; 
 and, as vou seem much pushed for this money, I 
 
 shall 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 57 
 
 shall only charge you two per cent, for my own 
 trouble. 
 
 Fer. Come, let s have it, let's have it. 
 (Fungus gives him £A50.J 
 
 Fun. I shall be happy to accommodate you in 
 future. Sir. Your friend's name will always ensure 
 a discount here. 
 
 Fei\ I shall be much happier, you blood-suck- 
 ing vagabond, never to stand in need of your fa- 
 vors. \^Exit Fer. 
 
 Fun. Ha — ha — ha — vagabond to be sure — I 
 must now fulfil my promise, and take the note to 
 the Colonel directly — -Blood-sucking vagabond, to 
 be sure. [Exit. 
 
 Scene shifts to a Parlor in Justice Mittimus'.s" 
 House. 
 
 \ Justice loo/ling at a letter.] 
 
 Mitt. Buskin — Mac — Mummery a curious 
 
 name, truly. 
 
 E?iter a Servant. 
 
 S'er. A gentleman wishes to speak with you. 
 Sir. 
 
 Mitt. Desire him to walk in. 
 
 Enter a Stranger. 
 
 Mitt. I presume, Sir, you are the person who 
 sent me this letter. 
 
 Stran. My name, Sir, is Buskin MacMummery, 
 Mitt. The same — ^Why, Mr. MacMummery, I 
 should be very sorry were you to sustain any in- 
 jury on account of his confinement ; but the law 
 must take its course. Sir. A magistrate, as the 
 sublime Milton very judiciously observes, is but a 
 
 H silent 
 
58 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 silent law ; and the law a speaking magistrate — 
 Therefore you must speak to the law, Sir. 
 
 Stran. I'm not much acquainted wiih the logic 
 of the bar, your worship — my profession being di- 
 rectly its opposite — inasmuch as the business of 
 the law seems to consist chiefly in that of ejecting 
 people from their houses, whilst mine is simpljr 
 that of collecting them within. 
 
 Mitt. He — he — he^ — -you are quite factious^ — 
 he — he — he — But I query, notwi.hstanding your 
 benevolence in the aforesaid particular, whether 
 you do not generally, nevertheless, turn them out 
 again, little benefited by your farces and foolery, 
 and more out of humor at the loss of their admis- 
 sion fee, than well pleased with their entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 Stran. This, Sir, is all owing to the lamentable 
 — the deplorable — the unaccountable degeneracy 
 of the public mind, from the immutable — invio- 
 lable — invincible standard of taste, known only to 
 the ancients (putting himself in a theatrical atti- 
 tude.) 
 
 When first the drama rear'd its head. 
 
 And dithyrambic verse was spread, 
 
 Or when ^schylus's rary show 
 
 Bade passion rise, and language flow; 
 
 When heroes slain, and battle's rage, 
 
 Was represented by that Sage, 
 
 Not buskin then, but stilts, were us'd, 
 
 And bearded mask surprise difFus'd : 
 
 'Twns then that stage efFect was known, 
 
 And stupid nature was out-done : 
 
 'Twas then hobgoblins danc'd around, 
 
 And ghosts and wizzards trod the ground ; 
 
 While sprights and spectres, wrapt in smoke, 
 
 Burst the dark cloud, and thimdering spoke : 
 
 Th' affrighted audience stood aghast, 
 
 And novelty was then surpass'd : 
 
 But now, alas I dramatic rules 
 
 Are so becrippled by the schoolsj 
 
 Anil 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. ^9- 
 
 And criticism, that cursed thing, 
 
 Has snipt so often fancy's wing, 
 
 That, were it not for novel aid, 
 
 The audience would oft be laid 
 
 In slumbers deep, and sound as those 
 
 Which vibrate through your worship's nose j 
 
 Whilst on the couch your Excellence 
 
 Enjoyeth sweet convalescence, 
 
 Thespis, that 
 
 Mitt. C staring wildbj at him) What the devil's 
 the matter with the man ? Arn't you well, Sir ? 
 
 Stran. Sir, I have but repeated a mere scrap of 
 three cantos which I composed since I heard of 
 Mr. Spig^et's unfortunate commitment ; and if 
 you'll have a little more patience, I'll proceed — 
 
 Thespis, that hero of renown, 
 In lofty numbers 
 
 Mitt. ("i7ifejTupting him) Sir, Sir, I'll excuse 
 your poetry, if you please, and take the remnant 
 of your story in honest prose. My ears are not ac- 
 customed to your spondees and your lyric fandan- 
 goes. I prefer plain prose, Sir. 
 
 Stran. (making a bow) You must know. Sir, 
 that I have lately erected a small theatre in town, 
 which I purpose to open this evening ; that hav- 
 ing heard of Mr.Spigget's theatrical merits, I went 
 t'other night to a spouting-club of which he is a 
 member, and w^as so taken with the decided and 
 novel superiority of his performance, that I en- 
 gaged him to make his first appearance on my 
 stage in a piece of my own composing, called the 
 Charms of Novelty. I beg, therefore, your wor- 
 ship will have the goodness to take my security for 
 his appearance, and suffer him to go at large un- 
 til his engagements with me are fulfilled. I have 
 been at his father's. Sir, who swears he would not 
 bail him in the sum of twenty pounds to save him 
 from the gallows. Miit 
 
60 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 Mitt. Well, Sir, as your interest seems to de- 
 pend much on his liberation, I will order his re- 
 lease ; but pray. Sir, what can have induced you 
 to place so much dependence on this piece of au- 
 tomaton buffoonery, or to expect any benefit from 
 his acting ? Fie appears to me to possess no one 
 single qualification for the stage, 
 
 S'tran. Sir, he possesses one which I consider of 
 greater importance in these days, than any which 
 an arrogant critic might pronounce to be indispen- 
 sable. Novelty at present is all the rage, Sir ; and 
 I trust, that good sense, and a revival of that taste 
 which once distinguished between genius and the 
 listless product of a simple and insipid imagina- 
 tion, will ere long recal the public mind from every 
 species of dramatic witchery (calculated only to 
 lure the fancy and deceive the sense) and fix it to 
 the main design and settled purpose of the stage. 
 People never go to theatres to be deceived, Sir, but 
 to be amused ; nor do they go with a view to be- 
 hold the failings of their neighbors, or to see their 
 own — ^Therefore no satire, under pretence of cor- 
 recting the vices and follies of the times, shall ever 
 be admitted in mine. 
 
 Mitt. Thank God for that' — (aside) Sir, I 
 
 highly applaud your determination' — But pray, 
 what novelty have you allotted this coxcomb to 
 perform ? — You'll excuse me. Sir. 
 
 Stran. It was not my intention. Sir, to utter a 
 syllable about the matter, in order that the thing 
 might have its fullest effect on the audience ; but 
 as you seem to be a gentleman, and of course know 
 how to keep a secret, I have no objection to make 
 you acquainted with it. You must know, Sir, that 
 in my last act I have a soliloquy of considerable 
 length — Hitherto it has been customary for actors 
 
 to 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*I>. ^% 
 
 to deliver these speeches in the usual way, namely, 
 on their feet. A thought lately struck me, of 
 varying the mode ; and 1 have (without presump- 
 tion, I think) fortunately hit upon one, which 
 (unless dire melancholy interpose) I am confident 
 will go nigh to dislocate every jaw-bone in the 
 house — (I hope your worship will attend) — In 
 short. Sir, I have taught Mr. Spigget how to deliver 
 this soliloquy on his head. 
 
 Mitt. What — ho ! ho ! ho ! — What, standing — 
 he ! he ! he ! — standing on his head, Sir ? 
 
 Stran. Yes, Sir, upon his head. Sir — the thing 
 will be astonishing. I don't know what the devil 
 you can find to laugh at. 
 
 Mitt. Well, Sir, I'll order his release. 
 
 [Exit Mummery. 
 Oh ! I shall burst — ho ! ho ! — standing upon his 
 head — Oh, I shall die with laughing. 
 
 {Exit Mitt, 
 
 END OF THE THIRD ACT. 
 
 ACT 
 
02- THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene — A Pm^Ior in Mr. Allworthy'^ House. 
 \_A Servant conducting Col. Hartly into it.^ 
 
 Ser. My master desires you will be seated for a 
 few moments, and he'll wait upon you. 
 
 [Exit Ser. 
 
 Col. Now how to manage this suspicious inflex- 
 ible old man (pauses) Chill prudence is 
 
 generally the child of old age and experience, and 
 that independence, rais'd by the hand of industry 
 and care, is ever guarded by a circumspective ap- 
 prehension that startles at every shadow of ex- 
 travagance, which, under the specious cloak of 
 liberality, might invade its strength. He loves 
 his son almost to folly : may he not love his mo- 
 ney too ? Sach are the inconsistencies of human ac- 
 tions, that a man will sometimes squander thou- 
 sands upon one silly object, and grieve to death at 
 loss of pence on others Here he comes. 
 
 Enter Mr. Allworthy, sullenly. 
 
 Col. I have ever been accustomed, Sir, to be 
 received in this house with marks of complacency 
 and respect, and cannot, therefore, meet that sul- 
 len aspect and unwelcome frown, with that indif- 
 ference which my conscious innocence might war- 
 rant. 
 
 All. Talk not of your innocence, Sir ; my sus- 
 picions of your guilt are but too well founded; 
 were you not guilty, why not meet my sullen frown 
 without concern ? Col. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. M 
 
 Col. The testimony of the most spotless inno- 
 cence, is not always sufficient to enable the ac- 
 cused to indure the criminating eye of foul sus- 
 picion. 
 
 All. Had I no other cause for suspicion, the 
 letter, and the base designs which it unfolds, are 
 sufficient evidence of your guilt. 
 
 Col. The glaring light of truth and innocence 
 itself, is no protection against the envenom'd shafts 
 of calumny. 
 
 All. I don't comprehend you. Sir. 
 
 Col. The inadvertencies of youth may find ex- 
 cuse, and charity may paHiate the wild excesses of 
 unripen'd years ; but that guilty profusion, that 
 unbounded extravagance, which, regardless of con- 
 sequences, can maintain its unprincipled career on 
 the ruin of an unsuspecting friend, is a crime of 
 such merciless perfidy, such base degeneracy, that 
 it needs a fouler name than any on the black cata- 
 logue of guilt, to mark its hideous form. 
 
 All. What am I to understand from all this ? 
 
 Col. That the fairest semblance may conceal the 
 falsest hearts. 
 
 All. Explain yourself. Sir. 
 
 Col. There is no treachery so artful, as that which 
 cloaks itself with sentiment and candor. 
 
 All. Sir— . 
 
 Col. Is not Mr. Temple (the intimate friend of 
 your son) a very discreet, modest, virtuous young 
 man ? 
 
 All. He is. Sir, and more — 
 
 Col. I'm glad of it. The very sight of evil has 
 oft contaminated youth. This note then, can, 
 therefore, be no evidence of the contrary (gives 
 him the note.) 
 
 All. Good Heavens ! five hundred pounds, my 
 son's endorsing — I'm astonished. 
 
 Col 
 
64- THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 
 
 Col. I am not. The hope of impunity will lead 
 the dissolute spendthrift to the perpetration of the 
 worst of crimes ; and the man who in this hope 
 can adventure the bold commission of a forgery, 
 will laugh and sneer at whatever might reproach 
 his base unprincipled designs, and make the un- 
 suspecting heart of confidence itself subservient to 
 his will. 
 
 All. Forgery, say you } 
 
 Col. Arrant forgery ! damn'd knavish trick, as 
 e'er with specious art and plausible intent, assum'd 
 the garb of honesty and rectitude of action, the 
 better to conceal the poisonous fangs of defama- 
 tion, and hellish purpose of premeditated guilt. 
 
 All. It surely cannot be ! Some mysterious evil 
 must have imposed upon your senses ; his virtue 
 is as spotless as the sun — his honor — his candor^ — • 
 
 Col. Pshaw! pshaw! believe it not — all dissimu- 
 lation and trick — Human nature, my good Sir, is 
 a mere motley group of rank deceit, and patch'd 
 up deformity, engag'd in counterfeiting happiness 
 and virtue, which it does not possess, rejecting 
 the more substantial, for the vain and pretended 
 wants of life; assuming the appearance of probity, 
 competence, and ease, yet struggling how to hide 
 its actual misery and misdemeanor from the world. 
 
 All. Good Heavens ! can I be thus deceived ? 
 forgery, say you ? 
 
 Col. Aye, what else but an impudent forgery 
 could that letter have been, of which you sent me 
 a copy, and from which you have collected all the 
 materials to effect my ruin ? Is it wonderful, that 
 the profligate viper, who, with insidious art and 
 syren tongue, could impose upon the goodness of 
 a real triend, should lack in diabolical invention 
 to injure a supposed enemy ? 
 
 All. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 65 
 
 All, What enmity can he bear to yoUj Colonel? 
 Col. Do you not know, that he feigns love to 
 your daughter — that he has been artful enough to 
 graft his pretended passion, fraught with guile and 
 deception, on the credulity of her unsuspecting 
 heart — ^and that, with sighing, and cringing, and 
 cunning, has so beguiled the simplicity of her na- 
 ture, that very little remains to render the scheme 
 of fraud and avarice complete ? 
 
 All. Gracious Heaven ! ! ! 
 
 Col. Actuated by the most selfish and criminal 
 views, he has already ingratiated himself into the 
 good opinion of your son, merely to get possession 
 of his property^ that he may riot in the haunts of 
 debauchery, and squander away in the lap of vo- 
 luptuousness, that wealth which has been accu- 
 mulated by the industrious hand of frugality and 
 care. 
 
 All. It shall not be ! Sooner would I disinherit 
 my children, than suffer them to be made beggars 
 of, by the rapacity of such a villain. I'll go di- 
 rectly — (pardon me. Sir) — I meant to say, that at 
 some convenient season, I will interrogate and call 
 this specious deceiver to an account. 
 
 Col. Do so. And if he is not already beyond 
 the reach of virtue ; if his heart is not already as 
 callous as the infamy of his designs are obvious, I 
 would hold him up to the deformity of his own 
 accursed ingratitude, in such terrible shapes, that 
 the mirror should ravage his affrighted soul to des- 
 peration. 
 
 All. I will. Sir. 
 
 Col. For this purpose I leave you in possession 
 of the note. It was by mere accident I became 
 possessed of it. Having lately had some trifling 
 matters of negociation with a broker, I happened 
 
 I to 
 
66 , THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 to mention the name of Temple, and as I had some 
 prior suspicions of this gentleman's character^ I 
 learned from him sufficient matter to warrant 
 imputation of a deeper cast. On my return home, 
 I discovered the very letter lying on my table, 
 which you have since became possessed ot, though 
 by what strange conjuration, I'm unable to di- 
 vine ; and must, therefore, conclude, that similar 
 means were used to get it into vcur hands, which 
 conveyed it into mine. For the present, Sir, I 
 take my leave, and trust, that no unfavorable image 
 now against my honor, is left upon your thought. 
 
 [Exit CoL 
 
 All. None, Sir, none ! 
 
 Oh ! how insupportable these suspicions ! It 
 cannot be ! — And yet the story's evident, and strong, 
 and black, and legible as this which stamps itj 
 
 bitter proof (looking at the note.) What, here 
 
 comes my son, I see. 
 
 Enter Capt. All worthy. 
 
 Ed. Father, have you seen my friend Ferdinand I 
 He said he would be here about this time. 
 
 All. Your friend, say you ? No : nor do I wish 
 to see him, unless, -unlesS' — (embarrassed) — I for- 
 get my purpose. But pray, now that you are talk- 
 ing about your friend, have you sufficient grounds 
 to depend upon the integrity of his heart, to make 
 of him so confidential a companion ? 
 ., Ed. Whence these doubts. Sir ? I have known 
 him from a boy : his exemplary conduct, his no- 
 ble ingeniousness, from his earliest day to the pre- 
 sent hour, has so riveted my affections, that, next 
 to my honored parents, I hold him nearest to my 
 heart. 
 
 All. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 67 
 
 All. I am glad you know him so thoroughly : 
 the formation of connections is of the utmost im- 
 portance throughout life, but especially on enter- 
 ing into it : there needs not a stronger indication 
 of a corrupt mind, than the choice of bad com- 
 pany ; nor a surer evidence of a virtuous heart, 
 than that which is founded on personal merit, and 
 approved good conduct. My son, it is no un- 
 common thing for men, distinguished by their vola- 
 tility of genius and talents, to feel the utmost in- 
 ditTercnce, and sometimes even contempt itself, 
 for those prudential rules of life, without which 
 no genius, however exalted, no talents, however 
 exuberant, can shield the possessor from the dread- 
 ful consequences v/hich must inevitably follow an 
 intemperate disregard of them : therefore beware 
 how you suffer your judgment to be governed by 
 the external gloss of your companions. 
 
 Ed. What in the name of wonder can all this 
 
 mean ? The discovery of the note, no doubt. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 All. Eddy, I have some matters to communi- 
 cate to Mr. Temple, and wish to see him as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 -Mr. Temple, Sir. 
 
 Very opportune — -You will leave us together , 
 and when I have done with him, I shall have much 
 to say to you. 
 
 Enter Ferdinand Temple. 
 
 [Edmund meeting him as he e?iters.] 
 
 Ed. Ferdinand, you will please to excuse mc 
 for half an hour — I am indispensably engaged, and 
 must leave you awhile fFer. bows. J [Exit Ed. 
 
 All. 
 
68 THE HYPOCRITE UIsTMASk'd. 
 
 All. My son and I have just had some conver- 
 sation on the subject of false and real friendship, 
 and were engaged in it when you came in. 
 
 Fer. I regret, Sir, that I have been the occa- 
 sion of any interruption to a discourse so interest- 
 
 All. That's more than I do ; for, by your per- 
 mission, I shall take this opportunity to engage 
 your sentiments on the same topic. — (Ferdinand 
 bozos. J' — ^I am inclined to think, Mr. Temple, that 
 in true and genuine friendship, there can exist no 
 selfish motives, no deceitful views ; that all is pure 
 and from the heart ; that it is never cultivated for 
 mercenary purposes ; such motives being incon- 
 sistent with the nature of that pure, beneficent 
 principle, from which all the benevolent affections 
 flow. — fMr. Allworthy ,fixing his eye steadily upon 
 him all the while. J 
 
 Fer. Nothing can be more obvious. Sir. 
 
 All. Consummate eflTrontery !- — f Aside J You 
 
 have long been in habits of intimacy with my son, 
 I think. Pray, Sir, what is your opinion of him ? 
 he's warm — has a generous heart — hasn't he .? 
 
 Fer. A paragon of generosity. Sir f agitated. J 
 
 All. Let me see^ — 'let me see — (looking for the 
 letter AlittijJins sent him) — You have a sister of 
 the name of Sophia, I think. 
 
 Fer. I have. Sir. 
 
 All. Pray in what part of the country does she 
 reside? for I understand she was placed at some 
 boarding-school by your uncle. 
 
 Fer. I have just received this letter (taking out 
 the letter Col. Hartly sent him, as from his sister) 
 from her, in which she informs me, that she had 
 left school in April last, and has ever since re- 
 sided with the aunt of a young lady of her ac- 
 <|uaintance. All. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 69 
 
 i 
 
 All. A very extraordinary circumstance, truly. 
 
 JTer. AVherefore extraordinary, Sir ? 
 
 All. Only as it respects a circumstance some- 
 what extraordinary, that's all. 
 
 Fcr. I am at a loss to comprehend you. Sir. 
 
 All. Are you ? Then perhaps this letter of your's 
 may serve to dispel the mystery in which it seems 
 to be enveloped f gives him the letter — Fej^dinand 
 Teads itivith extreme emotion.) 
 
 Fer. Good God, Sir! what can all this mean ? 
 
 All. Mean, Sir ? Why it means dishonesty ! ar- 
 tifice ! infamy ! the trick of a knave to impose up- 
 on the credulity of fools. Pshaw, pshaw, man, 
 
 do not act the villain by halves ; blush not that 
 your schemes have been detected, but rather blush 
 that you have dared to turn knave before the de- 
 pravity of your heart had attained its maturity in 
 guilt, before the deep bronze of eye-offending im- 
 pudence had taken full possession of that front, 
 and bade defiance to detection, 
 
 Fer. The circumstances on which you ground 
 your reproaches, arc as mysterious to me, as your 
 unjust suspicions are unmerited : I know nothing 
 of this letter, Sir, and therefore dispose them both 
 ( throws it doxvn.J 
 
 All. Do you not ? Alayhap then, you may re- 
 cognize a little billet-doux of another kind — It 
 may also serve to unravel the mystery of the let- 
 ter ; for I'm much mistaken if it bears not some 
 analogy to it (giving him the note. J 
 
 Fer. This note. Sir, I acknowledge ; the en- 
 dorser is your son too ; but it has no relation to 
 any circumstance which ought or will excite a 
 blush. 
 
 All. And how. Sir, have you thus dared to abuse 
 the generosity of my son, and involve him in the 
 guilt of your criminal extravagance.'' 
 
 Fer. 
 
70 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Fcr. I have neither imposed upon your son, or 
 betrayed him into guilt ; and as to this act of his 
 generosity, when you are made fully acquainted 
 with the occasion of it, you will, I am persuaded, 
 not only acquit him of suspicions so unjust, but 
 will also exonerate me from the stain of having 
 abused his generosity. Of these particulars you 
 shall soon be fully satisfied, Sir. As to the letter 
 w^hich you have cHkrged me with having written, 
 I assure you I am an entire stranger to it ; and, as 
 it relates to a sister whose honor and happiness I 
 esteem more than life, you will not. Sir, I trust, 
 think me unreasonable in requesting a suspension 
 of your thoughts, and time to bring this painful 
 mystery to light. 
 
 All. I grant it. Sir y and though I cannot, un- 
 der these circumstances, prevail upon myself to 
 think otherwise than I do, yet shall I be happy to 
 find sufficient grounds for a contrary belief — C Fer- 
 dinand bows, and retires) — -Now let me see what 
 excuse my son can make for his friend, and what 
 his opinion is of the letter, O ! unaccountable 
 mystery ! How much my heart feels interested in 
 the issue. \^Exit Allworthy. 
 
 Scene opens to another Apartment, discovering, 
 Joey and Floj-a. 
 
 Joey. Have I not, i'th' dead of night, visited 
 your chamber window, and sung my plaintive 
 grievances in direst elegies of song ? Have I not 
 sacrificed at the altar of your beauty, tears without 
 number, and sighs without end ? And for all this, 
 have you not wantonly conjured up a story 'gainst 
 my manliness, my undaunted bravery, my steel- 
 proof courage, my excessive love, and my most 
 renowned propensity to things which stamp the 
 
 excellence 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 71 
 
 excellence of man ? — There, dam'me, if she can 
 stand that, she's proof against any thing. — f Aside.) 
 
 But enough ! my happiness has iied ! and my 
 
 life now seems an insupportable and heavy load, 
 like that o'th' back of some starved Jack, whose 
 tottering joints can scarce sustain his meagre look- 
 ing bones But enough ! No more I feel the 
 
 woman in me now ; no love-sick planet ridden, 
 
 moon cudgel'd, blubbering ninny now No ! 
 
 I'll away to the field — to the ranks — I know my 
 heart will break — let it — I may have a bushel of 
 bullets in my guts — -be it so — I shall have the con- 
 solations of a heart that bled and died to wipe 
 away a base reproach against, against f looking at 
 a scrap of paper zvhich he pulls out of his pocket) 
 my god-like bravery, and my matchless love (at- 
 tempting to go.) 
 
 Flora, (affecting sorrow) Stay, Joey, stay awhile 
 I_I— . 
 
 Joey. My life's my country's ! ! ! At my coun- 
 try's call I go — So welcome death in all (pulling 
 
 out the paper) in all its ghastly shapes of woe • 
 
 As to fear and danger — I'm above it — I care not 
 that about it (snapping his ^fingers)- — ^So since yoji 
 won't have me— why, dam'me, I'll — I'll — 
 
 Flora. Cfeigning sorrow) Stay, Joey, and hear 
 me first' — I — I — I don't wish you to expose your 
 precious life, I don't ; but if for my sake you are 
 determined (going to a corner of the room for a 
 blunderimss.) 
 
 Joey. Aye, aye, you may blubber if you please 
 — my resolution's fix'd — my purpose can't be 
 mov'd — to the field — ^to arms — to the ranks- — • 
 charge — push — 'Crack' — whiz — flit — bang- — whiz. 
 
 Flora, (returning zvith the blunderbuss) Here, 
 then, since you are determined, take this to de- 
 fend yourself with. Joey. 
 
72 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Joexj. Gad a mercy. Flora, where did you ^^tt 
 that frightful thing ? O for the love of God (fall- 
 ing on his knees) do put it away again — I don't 
 mind it, but it may go off, indeed it may — I'm 
 sure it's loaded, . that I am — put it away. 
 
 Flora. O thou pidgeon-livered poltroon, thou 
 cow-hearted, gasconading cub of cowardice — away 
 to the ranks (presenting the piece, and following 
 him.) [Exit both. 
 
 Scene ope?is to a Street. 
 
 [Capt. Allworthy meeting Ferdinand.] 
 
 Capt. All. I was going to your lodgings. My 
 father has shewn me the letter which Col. Hartly 
 has charged you with having forged, and has re- 
 proached me with having made myself a confeder- 
 ate in your guilt. 
 
 Fer. Did he inquire into the motives which in- 
 duced you to endorse the note ; or for what pur- 
 pose I wanted this money ? 
 
 Capt. All. No. 
 
 Fer. Then tell him that I was compelled to give 
 ray bond to an agent of the lady's at whose school 
 my sister was placed ; that in consequence of the 
 failure of my uncle's remittances, out of which I 
 regularly paid these accounts, I could not meet 
 this last demand ; for, though I have been able 
 to support myself, my best exertions have been 
 inadequate to more. 
 
 Capt. All. ril inform him. 
 
 Fer. What a system of treachery ! ! 
 
 Capt. All. Nothing surprising — I know of no 
 villainy too refined, no treachery too base, for the 
 perfidious heart of that paragon of rascality : but 
 have patience, and our revenge shall be complete. 
 
 Believe 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 7S 
 
 Believe me, your feelings cannot be more severely 
 wounded than my own ; for though I do not feel 
 a brother's regard, I nevertheless have one still 
 nearer to my heart. 
 
 F€7\ I have but just received this letter, wherein 
 she tells me — here read it (gives him the letter.) 
 
 Capt. I have heard of this letter — It is a forge- 
 ry of the Colonel's. But come, the subtle work of 
 perfidy calls loudly for revenge, and justice brands 
 supineness with the name of coward — -'Tis time to 
 act, lest some untoward evil mar our plot. 
 
 Fei\ O God ! O God ! ! can it be possible ? and 
 is my little Sophy thus become a prey to treachery 
 and lust ? Eternal curses light upon the villain's 
 head. What! what shall I do ? my frantic brain 
 will urge me to acts ot desperation — So innocent ! 
 go lovely fair ! so artless ! — Take me to the mon- 
 ster instantly, lest he escape that vengeance which 
 my distracted soul burns within me to execute. 
 
 \Kxit both. 
 
 Scene changes to Col. Hartly'j- Library. 
 
 [The Colonel and Fribble in conversation.'] 
 
 Col. Yes, thou hast lived with me long enough ; 
 it were injustice to keep thee longer in my ser- 
 vice, and therefore we must part. 
 
 Frib. I hope no conduct of mine has merited 
 this treatment. I have been both faithful and 
 honest in your service, Sir (looking disco?isolatelj/.J 
 
 Col. Thou hast. Fribble ; and it is chiefly be- 
 . cause of thy honesty and faithfulness that we must 
 part j and yet wert thou not honest, we could not 
 live together — the paradox is easily solved. Thou 
 art honest as my servant, but thou art a contempt- 
 ible villain to thyself. Hast thou no ambition to 
 rise above the menial grovelling of a base spirited 
 
 K wretch. 
 
74 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'D. 
 
 wretch, who, forgetful of his nature, can tamely 
 cringe to that serviHty of life which (regardless of 
 every thing great and noble) bends an indolent 
 and spiritedless soul to the pitiful avocations and 
 drudgery of a hireling ? Can you prefer a situation 
 so vile, so abject, to the manly turmoil, the soar- 
 ing emulation, and noble anxiety inseparable from 
 a more exalted sphere of action ? No wish to as- 
 sert those sacred rights which the author of nature 
 has implanted in the bosom of every intellectual 
 being ? No desire to raise thyself to an equality of 
 rank among thy fellow-creatures ? 
 
 Frib. Sir, you have raised a tumult in my breast, 
 to which I have hitherto been a stranger ; and 
 nothing but the want of opportunity and means 
 to better my condition, checks the ardor of my 
 soul: but alas! I have not wherewithal to change it. 
 
 Col. Then remain a fellow who has no will of 
 his own ; a creature dependent upon the caprice 
 of others, and drag on through the degrading path 
 of slavery, a pitiful and insipid life, for the glorious 
 privilege of breathing. 
 
 Frib. Sooner would I breath my last, by mine 
 own hands. No, Sir, I now feel myself a man, 
 and am resolved to perish, rather than continue a 
 life so wretched ; but the means — 
 
 Col. And opportunity are both within your 
 reach, and even now solicit your acceptance. 
 
 Frib. Name them, I am ready. 
 
 Col. You say that Mr. Temple is resolved to 
 have satisfaction for the injuries I have done him, 
 and that Sophia's uncle has returned from the In-r 
 dies, and is on the road to town. 
 
 Frib. So have I learned. Sir. 
 
 Col. Here is a purse of gold for you ! — It is but 
 an earnest of what I intend farther to do for you, 
 provided you assist me to accomplish my plans. 
 
 Frib. 
 
The hypocrite unmask'd. 75 
 
 Frih. Name them, I am ready. Sir. 
 
 CoL To deceive the uncle, and swear a forgery 
 against his nephew. 
 
 Frib. Ah ! ! ! 
 
 CoL What, man ! arn't panic struck already ? 
 is this the mighty evidence of your determined 
 bravery ? 
 
 Frib. A forgery, say you, against his nephew ? 
 
 Col. All, and more, hadst thou a spirit better 
 fitted to the boldness of my purpose : but I see I 
 have mistaken my man, 
 
 Frib. You wrong me j I am ready to under- 
 take it. 
 
 Col. Ere long, then, you must lie in wait for 
 the uncle, who I fear may have learned the situa- 
 tion of Sophia, and endeavor to force her from 
 me. I will instruct you how, and where you are 
 likely to find him ; and when found, to give him 
 information that may change his rout. As to her 
 brother, this will do for him f pulling out a bank 
 note) — Convey this by some means into his hands ; 
 it is a counterfeit : and here is a letter to Justice 
 Mittimus, accusing him of being the maker of 
 them. Thus will he be apprehended immediate- 
 ly, and your evidence, of which I shall hereafter 
 instruct you, must do the rest. 
 
 Frib. It shall all be done. 
 
 Col. Haste you with the note first, and after- 
 wards the letter. \^Exit Frib. 
 
 So much for bribery. Now if I can but get this 
 half-cook'd villain to perjure himself, he is mine 
 on my own terms, and fitted then for enterprize of 
 bolder sort. Thus all may yet go well, and Eliza's 
 fortune be my own. 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH ACT. 
 
 ACT 
 
76 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene — A Parlor in Spigget'^ House. 
 
 [Fribble and Joey dri?ikmg.'\ 
 
 Frib. (lay big down his glass J Yes, a gentle- 
 man, and a man of fashion too ; and wert thou 
 not some goose-hearted, misbegotten jacksnipe, 
 thou wouldst also spurn a situation so contempti- 
 ble, and, by a bold and noble struggle for conse- 
 quence, assert the rights of man. 
 
 Joey, Consequence forever, I say ; come, here's 
 to thee (dritiks) and now — I — I begin to feel as 
 how I never was designed for a pitiful lick-dish at 
 the Blue Bell, Old dad may go to the devil, an' 
 he will — I'll be a scrub, a scout tumbler no longer 
 
 but — but, Master Fribble, you must find all 
 
 the cash then, for 
 
 Frib. Here, take this to begin with (giving him 
 a purse of money) — It contains sufficient for a jour- 
 ney of a hundred miles or more, and when that's 
 done 
 
 Joey, Stay, Master Fribble, any thing but that, 
 your honor, any thing but that — I — I don't know 
 the butt end of a pistol from the muzzle on't, and 
 I never had such a thing in my hands but once in 
 all my life ; and besides, I couldn't hit a hay stack, 
 indeed I couldn't (turning his back upon Fribble.) 
 
 Frib. Ha! ha! ha! what the devil? You don't 
 think I am proposing the highway to you, man ? 
 
 Joey. Indeed I couldn't (with his back toivards 
 
 him.) 
 
 Fritf. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASKED.* 77 
 
 Frib. What the devil, man, are you shaking 
 about ? I only mean to turn speculator, and rob 
 the public in a genteel way. 
 
 Joey. O, if that's all, here's my hand — But — • 
 You'll excuse me — I hope you havn't been scamp- 
 ing for that there money — 'You take me — ■ 
 
 Frib. No ! no ! — My master lately gave me a 
 small sum for secret services, that's all — Not to 
 put my finger upon a trigger, you gander, but my 
 thumb upon a bible, thou ninny-looking shock. 
 
 Joey. Pray Heaven you may never get me un- 
 der your thumb. — (aside) As to the matter 
 
 about speculating, why, I don't think there can 
 be much harm in figuring the people out of a lit- 
 tle cash in a genteel way, as you observe — A goose 
 quill is a very harmless weapon ; but I have a 
 mortal aversion to all kinds of fire-arms, and I 
 couldn't cock a pistol to save my life, indeed I 
 couldn't. 
 
 Frib. Cock thy stupid brains, and be d d 
 
 to thee. Art dreaming about pistols ? The busi- 
 ness in which I wish to engage you, is an honor- 
 able one, a fashionable one, and, if followed up 
 properly, and left off in right season, will make 
 our fortunes in a crack. 
 
 Joey. I tell you I couldn't crack a pistol to save 
 my soul (turning his back upon him.) 
 
 Frib. Thou blunderbuss of stupidity, I tell thee 
 I mean no such thing — Speculation is a kind of 
 privateering on the public. 
 
 Joey. O Sir, you must excuse me, indeed you 
 must' — •! never could endure salt w^ater nor ships, 
 indeed I couldn't. 
 
 Fj-ib. Numbscull, I tell thee again and again, 
 that speculation is a business in which there is 
 jaeither gun-powder, pistols, nor salt water — It re- 
 quires 
 
78 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 quires neither courage nor capital to carry it on — 
 Impudence and cunning are the only essential 
 qualifications ; and the want of reputation, never 
 injures its success. 
 
 Joey. O, if that be all 
 
 Frib. Let me see — As soon as I receive the 
 money I am promis'd, we'll go to some part of the 
 continent where neither of us are known — Each 
 hire a large house, and furnish it in the best style, 
 upon credit — Give large parties, and good din^ 
 ners — Get money of the brokers, upon our own 
 and our confederates' endorsements, at any pre- 
 mium, no matter how great, as Mr. Fungus tells 
 me — Circulate as much of this paper as possible — 
 Purchase lands, or any thing else, to the utmost 
 extent of our credit — Scrape together all the cash 
 we can lay our clutches on : and lastly, do as hun- 
 dreds of w^orthy gentlemen have done before — se- 
 crete the ready — stop payment' — break honorably, 
 and laugh immoderately at all knavish creditors, 
 (Both, ha! hat ha I ha i l—\^ c may go to pri- 
 son, I grant ; but there's nothing vulgar in that 
 now-a-days ; we are sure of finding good compa- 
 ny there ; and if we can't compromise with our 
 creditors for eighteen-pence in the pound, we can 
 take the benefit of the act, swear we are not worth 
 a cent, and come out again with as good a grace 
 as we went in — In short — 'but I must leave you 
 instantly (looking at his watch) I have some busi- 
 ness with Mr. Fungus, so adieu, my boy, for the 
 present : when next we meet, I will unfold to 
 you the whole of my plans, and ere long I trust 
 we shall hold up our heads with the best of them. 
 
 [Exit Fribble. 
 
 Joey. Huzza for consequence and the rights of 
 m^n — But mind now then (looking after Fribble 
 
 as 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 79 
 
 as he goes off) that there's no pistols nor — (Bell 
 rings) — 'fJoey p2ills up the waistband of his breeches, 
 and struts about the stage.} — (Bell rings J 
 
 Joey. Ring away, old codger, till your heart 
 rings again — I'm no bell .scamper now — I'm a 
 man of fashion and consequence, and 
 
 Enter Ferdinand Temple. 
 
 Fer. AVhere are your ears ? I have been ring- 
 ing for you this half hour, you cur — Why didn't 
 you attend ? 
 
 Joey. ( assuming great dignity ) — Imagine you are 
 under a small mistake, Sir — The firm of Spigget 
 and Fribble, attend to things of greater moment 
 now, 
 
 Fer. What's got into the fellow's head ? Are 
 you mad. Sir? (taking him by the collar.) 
 
 Joey. Mad, Sir ? If to know myself to be a man 
 of fashion, and upon an equality with the best 
 gentleman in the land, be madness — If to assert 
 
 the sacred rights of man, be 
 
 (Ferdinand canes him confoundedly.) 
 O for the love of God, have a little mercy — I'm 
 mad, I'm sure I am — ^Yes, your honor, I'm a bed- 
 lamite, 
 
 Fer. Silence ! you jackanapes, and answer me 
 directly, I understand you have learned some 
 particulars respecting a young lady of the name of 
 Sophia Temple ; tell me instantly, and truly, all 
 you know about her, or this sword — (drazving one 
 out of the cane) 
 
 Joey. O laud ! O laud ! don't murder a bed- 
 lamite ! ! 
 
 Fer. Begin, sirrah, and be as explicit, as I am 
 impatient to hear. 
 
 Joey^ 
 
80 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK'd. 
 
 Joey. I will, your honor ; O laud ! yes, your 
 honor ; but pray, do put up that ugly thing again ; 
 it frightens me out of my wits, it does, 
 
 Fer. There C sheathing it J begin, sirrah. 
 
 Joey. Your honor mast know (now do spare my 
 blushes, your honor) that I have long had a sneak- 
 ing regard for Flora, Miss Eliza's 
 
 Fer. Cdrawing his swordj Damnation to your 
 •Flora, and your sneaking regard too — ^ Where is 
 Sophia Temple, sirrah r where is my sister ? 
 
 Joel/. O laud ! indeed. Sir, if I had it at my 
 tongue's end, your passion, and that ugly piece of 
 steei, would frighten it down my throat again in 
 an instant. I'd as lief you would kill me outright, 
 as terrify me to death so. Only do put it up once 
 more, your honor, and I'll tell you all about it. 
 
 Fer. Provoking devil, there (sheathes it. J 
 
 Joey. Sophia Temple is 
 
 Fer. Where ? be quick. 
 
 Joey, (with great rapidity) Is at one Mother 
 Davis's, near the Spread Eagle, your honor, and 
 Colonel Hartly, about two or three weeks since, 
 made love to her, they say, and enveigled her to 
 that vile house, under a pretence that it was to a 
 relation's he was taking her, and Sophia, suspect- 
 ing his designs, has refused to see him ever since, 
 and the people that keeps the house, thinks she 
 is some other girl, and not your honor's sister, 
 and 
 
 Fer. Enough ! go instantly and procure me a 
 coach, and let me know when it is ready. 
 
 Joey. Yes, your honor (running off.) 
 
 Fer. Had I ten thousand lives, I could risk 
 'em all in the cause of suffering innocence ; but 
 
 for^a sister so beloved — (pausing)- Even now 
 
 the defenceless victim of his accursed treachery, 
 
 may 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 81 
 
 may be forced to listen to his blasted speech ; nay, 
 driven, perhaps — Oh ! insupportable thought — • 
 But I'll away, and if I find him out, I'll rid the 
 world at once of infamy and him. [^Exit. 
 
 Scene — A Library. 
 
 [Col. Hartly in an undress, in deep meditation.] 
 Col. To shrink now, would be to court suspi- 
 cion, and fear be construed into"evidence of guilt. 
 By this time, however, I have nothing to fear trom 
 her brother, whose commitment for forgery, will 
 afford me fresh grounds to complete his ruin. 
 
 Filter a Servant. 
 
 Capt. AUworthy desires to be admitted imme- 
 diately. 
 
 Col. Did you tell him I was at home ? 
 
 Ser. Yes, Sir, and I was afraid he would have 
 jumped over my head, whether I would or not — 
 I believe he's mad. 
 
 Col. Confusion ! what can this mean ? 
 
 Enter Capt. Allworthy. 
 
 Capt. All. Under other circumstances, I might 
 feel disposed to apologize for this intrusion, and 
 apparent contempt of ceremony ; but the nature 
 of my business-at present admits of none (much 
 agitated.) 
 
 Col. Whence this' extraordinary agitation. Sir? 
 I hope nothing dreadful has happened. 
 
 Capt. O no. Sir, no — wearied a little with my 
 own reflections, that's all. 
 
 Col. I'm sorry that any reflections of your's. 
 Sir, should be of a nature to excite so much un- 
 easiness. 
 
 L Capt. 
 
82 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'D- 
 
 Capt. And I too, when I consider that it can 
 only be removed by blood 
 
 Col. What mean you. Sir ? 
 
 CapL What means this solicitude. Colonel ? I 
 thought philosophy had fortified your heart against 
 even the possibility of being betrayed into a fool- 
 ish concern for others. 
 
 Col. Pardon me, Sir^ — you do me injustice to 
 suppose me a stranger to those feelings which I 
 consider the chief ornament of our nature. 
 
 Capt. Then I crave your pardon, and congratu- 
 late you with my whole heart. But there is so 
 much damn'd, cursed hypocrisy in the world, that 
 it is difficult to lay one's finger on an honest man 
 (eying him steadily.) ' 
 
 Col. Nothing more true, Sir ; very true indeed. 
 
 Capt. And nothing more common. Sir — Nay, I 
 have but just now detected as smiling and as ho- 
 ney-tongu'd a hypocrite as e'er canted morality, or 
 polluted sentiment — a specious, damn'd moralis- 
 ing, demure-looking saint, to be an arrant im- 
 postor, a deliberate rogue. 
 
 Col. I have ever mistrusted these speech-mon- 
 gers. Integrity of heart, and steadiness of prin- 
 ciple, spurns the luring embellishments of sophis- 
 try and gaudiness of speech. 
 
 Capt. Curse on your integrity, and your speech 
 too. Know you ought of Sophia Temple, Sir.? 
 
 Col. Sophia Temple, Sir — (affrighted) — Do you 
 mean the person alluded to in the forged letter 
 your father lately sent me a copy of ? 
 
 Capt. Perfidious scoundrel ! The infamy of thy 
 designs, and their peculiar baseness to that help- 
 less, that innocent orphan ■ 
 
 Col. 'Tis false — I never — r— 
 
 Capt. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 83 
 
 Capt. Thou accursed paragon of hell's blackest 
 emissaries, thou perjured villain, take the reward 
 of thy dark and diabolical offences (draws.) 
 
 Col. (starting back) I'm unarm'd. Sir. The 
 crimes of which you accuse me, and against which 
 your intemperate and unmanly rage is levelled, are 
 of a paler complection than that which you are 
 about to commit. Allow me but the means of 
 defence, and damn'd be him whose courage first 
 gives out. 
 
 Capt. (sheathing his sword) I am no assassin ; 
 and though the wounds thou hast inflicted here, 
 would justify the deed, I will spare thy life ; and 
 may the consciousness of your own broad and 
 ponderous misdeeds, be the lightest punishment 
 your crime-stained heart can suffer. 
 (As Capt. Allworthy goes off] Col. Hartly follows.) 
 
 Col. You wrong me, by heaven you do. 
 
 Capt. Undaunted dissembler ! thy artifice can 
 no lono^er cloak thee. Detection, ^larinor as the 
 evidence of light itself, has at length unmasked 
 that front, and sculptured villain on't — Away, thou 
 false-tongu'd demon, from my sight. 
 
 (Attempts to go ojf^ again.) 
 
 Col. (following) Nay, I will be heard, by heaven 
 I will. 
 
 Capt. (taking him by the collar) Thus to rob 
 me of all patience — ^Take that, and quit my sight 
 forever (pushes him off.) [Exit Capt. 
 
 Col. O ! disgraceful, ignominious chastisement ! 
 but if he escape my tury, may curses sharper than 
 the lightning's flash ! may heaven's deadliest thun- 
 der light upon this head, and frustrate every hope 
 of vengeance ! [E.vit. 
 
 Scene 
 
84 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 
 
 Scene — A Parlor in SpiggetV House. 
 
 [Ferdinand zvalking the room in haste — then rings 
 the bell — looks at his watch. ~\ 
 
 Fer. 'Tis time my uncle was here. 
 
 Enter Joey. 
 
 Is the coach ready ? 
 
 Joey. Yes, Sir, but there's a strange gentleman 
 below, wishes to see you first. 
 
 Fer. My uncle, I dare say (as he goes towards 
 the door, he is met by a constable.) 
 
 Con. Is your name Ferdinand Temple, Sir ? 
 
 Fer. It is. Sir. 
 
 Co7i. Then you are my prisoner. Sir — Here (to 
 others without J seize that fellow there (two others 
 enter and seize him.) 
 
 Enter Commodore Toplift and Bobstay. 
 
 Com. (seeing his nephew in the hands of the con- 
 stables) Aback there, messmates — drop a stern, 
 or mayhap I may lower some of your top-masts, 
 do you see (flourishing a huge hanger) — Make 
 ready for action, Bobstay (Bobstay draws, and 
 Ferdinand is released.) 
 
 Com. What, my nephew (they embrace.) 
 
 Fer. My good, my generous, my long-lost uncle. 
 
 Com. Give us your fist, my boy, give us your 
 fist — Shan't founder while I have a dollar in my 
 chest — Cheer up, my boy, cheer up — What ! some 
 little bantling in the wind, I suppose ; but never 
 mind that, you swab you^ — -How's my little Sophy, 
 eh ? grown as tall as our mizen, I suppose, eh } 
 A good girl tho', I'll be bound — O, how I long 
 to hug the little baggage to my heart. 
 
 Fer. Alas ! my uncle, your poor Sophy ! — (he 
 then walks about the room in silent sorrow.) 
 
 Com. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK D. 85 
 
 Com. What ! (looking wildly after him) Aye, 
 aye, I understand, I understand ; you need not 
 say more : poor little thing ! she was but slender 
 built, and I suppose nobody cared much about 
 
 her when I was gone. (pauses.) Yes, I 
 
 remember (wiping his eyes) I remember how she 
 used to sit smiling on my knee — Yes ! she was the 
 
 delight of my heart, and Well, well, she is 
 
 now safe moored in that peaceful harbor, wliere 
 the storm that \yreck'd that little barque, will ne'er 
 disturb her more — Bat, she \vas the delight of my 
 drooping years, and I had promised myselt so much 
 happiness when I came home ; but (zviping his 
 eyes J but, she's gone, and I can't bring her back 
 again. (Ferdinand, hearing the latter part of these 
 reflections, steps up to him in haste.) 
 
 Fer. Sir, you mistake*me ; your Sophia is alive, 
 and well, I hope. 
 
 Com. Alive ! alive ! ! eh ? where, where's my 
 Jittle Sophy ? 
 
 Fer. Patience, my good uncle, and I'll inform 
 you. I was that instant going to see her, when 
 those fellows came in from w^hose clutches your 
 bravery has releas'd me. 
 
 Com. Why, you swab ! you lubberly-looking 
 porpus you — Come then, let's away — I'll convoy 
 thee to her quarters in a second. My little So- 
 phy (zciping his eyes) — You lubberly-looking shark 
 (to Ferdinand) bear a hand, you swab you ! — to 
 set me a piping so. [Exit all. 
 
 Scene — an Apartmeiit in Mother Davis'j" House. 
 
 [Sophia rising from a chair, to meet Nancy.] 
 
 Sophia. O pray ! I beseech you, Nancy, try and 
 prevail on her not to send me to a prison — I am a 
 
 very 
 
86 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 very decent kind of person, I assure you, and of 
 very good connections — She knows I have no mo- 
 ney, and the means of procuring it she denies me. 
 
 Nancy. Indeed I v^ish with all my heart she 
 would be less severe with you — But she says all 
 her dependance is upon the Colonel, and if you 
 determine not to see him on any terms, you must 
 expect the worst. [Exit Nancy. 
 
 Sophia. O ! cruel treatment — alas ! what have I 
 done to merit it? O ! my brother, did you but know 
 the shocking alternative to whidi your poor de- 
 jected Sophy is driven ! Couldst thou but hear her 
 sad complaint, how thy manly and generous spirit 
 would burn with indignation against her merciless 
 betrayer. But, alas ! I'm friendless ! forsaken ! 
 lost ! 
 
 Enter Mother "D axis. 
 
 So, Miss Prue, you are got into one of your 
 tantrams again, I see ; but I'll be imposed upon 
 no longer with your lamentations and fuss about 
 nothing at all ; and so I tell you once for all, that 
 if you still refuse to see company, I shall insist 
 upon a settlement for your board and lodging, I 
 shall. 
 
 Sophia. O, let me implore your mercy, and if 
 I am to suffer, let it not be in a loathsome prison 
 • — A few days more, and I shall be released from 
 all my woes. 
 
 Mother Davis. This is all very pretty and fine ; 
 but the Colonel told me long ago what I was to 
 expect from such an artful baggage ; but out you 
 shall tramp, or my name's not Davis — Cgoes oiity 
 and returns ivith two constables) — There, gentle- 
 men, there's your prisoner, take her away. 
 
 Con. ComCjCome^sMisSj none of your maidenish 
 
 airs 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 87 
 
 airs with us, if you please^ — (Sophia struggles — 
 they force her away.) 
 
 Re-enter Nancy. 
 
 Nancy. O, ma'am, there's two or three fine 
 gentlemen at the door. 
 
 Mother Davis. As I Hve it must be Major Epau- 
 let and the Captain. 
 
 Enter Commodore, Ferdinand, and Bobstay. 
 
 Com. Sarvant, ma'am, sarvant, ma'am — I sup- 
 pose you keep this here house, don't you ? 
 
 Mother Davis. Let me see, let me see Cgoi?ig 
 up to him) havn't I seen this face before ? Arn't 
 you Captain — Captain 
 
 Com. Arn't you a damn'd b' — h ? (laying hold 
 of her slioulder) AVhere's the young woman ? 
 
 Fer. Stay, uncle, I beseech you, let me speak 
 to her. 
 
 Com. Sheer off, you swab you — I'll manage the 
 old hell cat, I warrant you. Tell me honestly this 
 instant, or I'll shiver this old hulk to flitters, I will 
 (shaking her J where's my Sophy ? 
 
 Mother Davis. La, Sir, believe me there's no 
 lady of that name in my house, I assure your 
 honor. 
 
 Com. Woman ! beware how you attempt to im- 
 pose on me — I have learned all about it, and I 
 know she has been in this damn'd place these three 
 weeks past. 
 
 Mother Davis. Believe me, Sir, I have had no 
 lady of that name in my house these three years 
 past. Col. — a gentleman I mean — brought ■ 
 
 Com. SC Fer. Brought who ? 
 
 Mother Davis. Brought a young lady here lately 
 of the name of Juliet Harcourt. 
 
 Com. 
 
88 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 
 
 Com. Bring her here this instant. 
 
 Mother Davis. La, Sir, it cannot be the lady 
 you are inquiring after. The person I have just 
 turned out of doors, was 
 
 Fer. Out of doors ? 
 
 Mother Davis. A person of no good reputation 
 or character, I assure you ; for she had the best of 
 offers from the Colonel — -the gentleman I mean — • 
 but, like an obstinate baggage, she never would 
 consent to see him. So I have just now turned 
 her over to those who will provide for her more 
 suitably to her means, for I can't afford to board 
 and lodge, people in my house for nothing at all. 
 This locket here is all I have received these three 
 
 weeks, and I warrant it's not worth a dollar. 
 
 (shews it.) 
 
 Fer. It is indeed my dear sister's. 
 
 Com. Where is she, you old tygress, where is 
 she ? f menacing.) 
 
 Mother Davis. La, Sir, you may overtake her 
 in five minutes ; come to the street door, and I'll 
 shew you which way they went. . [Exit all. 
 
 ScEiJE shifts to a Street, discovering Constables dragg- 
 ing Sophia along, and a Mob hooting after her. 
 
 Enter Commodore, Ferdinand, and Bobstay, 
 close upon their heels. 
 
 Com. Sheer off, you pickaroon-looking pirates, 
 sheer off fzvielding his sword) and take your grap- 
 pling hooks from that there innocent girl, or by 
 G — d I'll send every devil of you to Old Davy in 
 a trice. 
 
 (Sophia here first discovers her Brother, and ex- 
 claims as she rushes into his arms) — All gracious 
 Heavens ! My brother ! ! 
 
 Com. 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASK*D. 89 
 
 Com. Fore and aft there, Bobstay, rake 'em, 
 my boy Cthey both lay too, and the mob disappear. J 
 
 Com. What, my little Sophy, have you forgot 
 uncle Top lift ? 
 
 Sophia. My brave, my good, my generous un- 
 cle — fMny embrxice, and zvhile she remains in his 
 arms, the Commodore endeavors to stifle his emo' 
 t ions. J 
 
 Com. Damnation! — I — I — -I love thee, Sophy^ 
 better than I do my own soul, I think. Keep up 
 thy httle heart, Sophy ! My darling, nothing shall 
 harm thee — I'd defend thee now against all the 
 world, I would — Cheerly, my little darling, cheer- 
 ly — AVhy droops my Sophy, my own darling?— 7 
 Cheerly then. [Exit alk 
 
 Scene — An Apartment in SpiggetV House. 
 
 [Joey cleaning some glasses.'] 
 
 Joex). Speculation to be sure ! No, no. Master 
 Fribble, it won't do. I see through you now, as 
 clearly as I can see through this glass (holding up 
 a tumbler X- — Ecod, I should soon at that rate, with 
 his noble struggle for consequence, be rais'd in- 
 deed — but I guess it would be on the pillory. No, 
 no, Master Fribble, it won't do. 
 
 Enter Fribble. 
 
 Frib. Well, Mr. Spigget, we will now enter 
 upon our new plans ; and first 
 
 Joey, (interrupting him) Sir, Sir, my name is 
 Joey, plain downright Joey, and no Mister ; and 
 as to your new plans, why, I thank you. Sir, but 
 they won't do. 
 
 Frib. No! 
 
 Joey. No. 
 
 ^f Frii, 
 
90 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Fnb. What's the matter? 
 
 Joey. Nothing ! 
 
 Frib. Are you in earnest ? 
 
 Joey. Exactly so. 
 
 Frib. What's become of all that spirit of emu- 
 lation and enterprise you so lately felt -* 
 
 Joey. I've had dilTerent feelings since, your honor 
 (rubhiucf his shoulders . ) 
 
 Frib. How didst thou come by them ? 
 
 Joey. Ask Mr, Temple. 
 
 Frib. What ! I suppose then he has been giving 
 thee a lecture on passive obedience and non-resis- 
 "ttance, eh ? 
 
 Joey. Exactly so. 
 
 Frib. And pray, what were the arguments he 
 used ? 
 
 Joey. He only used one. Sir. 
 
 Frib. And what was that one, pray ? 
 
 Joey. A bamboo, I think they call it (rubbing.) 
 
 Frib. And wert thou tame enough to suffer it ? 
 
 Joey. Why, I confess it hurt my feelings consi- 
 derably, but I was obliged to submit. 
 
 Frib. Pough, pough, man, never forget the sa- 
 cred rights ot humanity. (Bell rings.) 
 
 Joey. Coming, coming. 
 
 Frib. One bold push, and I'll stake my life. 
 
 Joey. Very likely indeed, but I don't w^ish to 
 stake mine, and I've no stomach for pushing, in- 
 deed I havn't. (Bell rings.) 
 Frib. Then remain afellow w^ho hasno will of his 
 own ; a mere creature dependent upon the caprice 
 of others, and drag on through the degrading path 
 of slavery, a pitiful and insipid life, for the glorious 
 privilege of breathing. \^Exit Frib. 
 Joey. Aye, and thank you too (looking after 
 Mm) and be damn'd to your long speeches — (Bell 
 rings) — Coming, coming. [ExitJoey. 
 
 Scene 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. |1 
 
 Scene changes to a Parlor in J/?-. Allworthy'^- 
 House. 
 
 [Mr. Allwosthy and Eliza.] 
 
 Mr. All. Well, well, I shrill leave your brother, 
 then, to the dh'ection of liis own understanding : 
 The circumstance, however, of her being supposed 
 to have been betrayed by that arch impostor • 
 
 Eliza. O papa, you may rely upon it, the 
 wretch's views have been completely foiled, and 
 her innocence will suiter no diminution from the 
 baseness of his attempts. 
 
 Enter Commodore, Ferdinand, Sophia, and 
 
 Capt. AlL\\ ORTHY. 
 
 Mr. All. (easterly stepping forwards to meet Fer- 
 dinand Temple) Merely to confess the injustice I 
 have done you, by those suspicions into which I 
 was betrayed, w^ould be but a slender reparation, 
 were it unaccompanied by an anxious desire that 
 my future friendship and good opinion may in some 
 measure compensate for what has past. 
 
 Fer. Believe me, Sir, I never thought you in- 
 jured me ; and had it even been possible for the 
 good Mr. Allvvortliy to have forgotten for a mo- 
 ment the wonted benevolence of his heart, this 
 grateful testimony of regard would more than make 
 amends, had my sufferings been ten times greater: 
 but I have now other motives tor rejoicing. This, 
 Sir (presenting Sophia) is my sister. 1 need not 
 add the painful circumstances of her story — to you 
 I am persuaded they are fully known. 
 
 Mr. All. Welcome, thrice welcome, young lady, 
 to my heart — (Mr. Alkeorthy here presents her to his 
 daughter.) 
 
 Fer. And this, Sir fpresenting Cormnoddre Top- 
 lift) 
 
92 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd, 
 
 lift) is my good uncle, of whom you have often 
 heard me speak. 
 
 Mr. All. (to the Commodore) The respectful man- 
 ner in which your nephew has always mentioned 
 your name, gives me a stronger desire to be rank'd 
 among your friends and personal acquaintance — 
 fg/ves him his hand.) 
 
 Com. Thank you, Sir, thank you, Sir ; I'm not 
 much used to flummery and fine speeches ; I don't 
 know how it is, but my heart always bounces 
 against my timbers, whenever I see friends for- 
 getting and forgiving, as the saying is. I believe 
 my nephew here is an honest hearted lad enough: 
 for my part, now I've found my darling, I bear 
 
 no malice to any man, not I Avast there — 
 
 yes, by G — d, I do tho', and the lubberly yahoo 
 who w^ouid have taken my little Sophy from me, 
 shall feel my resentment yet, or my name's not 
 Toplift. Do you see this here cat ? fpidling out 
 of his pocket a rope of about two feet long, xvith 
 knots upon if .J 
 
 C apt. All. Ha! ha! ha! — Why, Commodore, 
 you surely are not serious — You certainly can't 
 mean any such outrage — If you are determined on 
 a combat with him yourself, you must conform to 
 those rules which custom has prescribed. 
 
 Com. I'll twig the porpus. 
 
 Capt. You mast take the sword — - 
 
 Com. I'll 2:ranple the swab. 
 
 Lapt. Or pistols. 
 
 Com. I'll douse his binnacle. 
 
 Capt. Consider his rank. 
 
 Com. He's a labberiy yahoo. 
 
 Capt. He's a son of NIars too. 
 
 Com. He's a son of a b — h, 
 
 Capt. Ha ! ha ! ha !— Well, if this be your de- 
 termination, I know it will be in vain to attempt 
 
 to 
 
THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 9^ 
 
 to dissuade you from it — but I think you had bet- 
 ter reflect upon it. 
 
 Com. Thank you kindly for your advice, but I'll 
 keel-haul the porpus yet, or my name's not Top- 
 lift. 
 
 All. Do as you please with him, Commodore ; 
 but for the present be pacified — I have graver 
 matters in contemplation, in which you are equally 
 interested. I have lately found out some circum- 
 stances relative to my son and daughter, and your 
 nephew and niece, which (if you have no obiec- 
 tion) shall be adjusted upon the spot. — fM^j/ all 
 stand amazed.) — I find that my son Edmund is 
 over head and ears in love with your beautiful 
 niece ; and that your nephew, out of pure spite, 
 wishes to run away with my daughter. 
 
 Com. (to Ferdinand, zoho looks dozvn) — You 
 sheep-faced looking porpusyou, and you (goingupto 
 Sophia) come hither, my little darling (taking her 
 hy the hand) I didn't mean to make thee blush. 
 Give us your fist, you swab you (to Ferdinand — 
 and then leading them to Capt . Allzcort hij and Eliza J 
 Here, here, get splic'd, get splic'd, as soon as 
 you can, and Heaven grant you fair weather and 
 a prosperous voyage. 
 
 All. May Heaven reward your innocence and 
 loves. 
 
 Co?n. (singing) " A light heart and a thin" — 
 Here, old boy (to Alkvorthy) here's a trifle for my 
 little Sophy (pulling out some notes) mayhap the 
 bag-sacre wants new ri2:2:ina:, and when that's done, 
 she may always have more of old Toplift. As to 
 young swab there, I'll take care to line his pocket 
 well, I warrant you — And as to fortune, why, I 
 think I can match 'em with any that you can give, 
 do you see, old swag-purse — 'You'll excuse me. 
 
 Enter 
 
94 THE HYPOCRITE UNMASk'd. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Col. Hardy desires to see Capt. Allworthy imme- 
 diately, Sir Call amazed.) 
 
 Com. O ' ho I (taking out his rope's end,) 
 
 Enter Col. Hartly. 
 
 Col. (to Capt. Allworthy) Thou accursed, thou 
 welcome victim to my vengeful hate — -defend thy- 
 self — -(draws.) 
 
 Capt. (drawing) Come on, thou serpent of de- 
 ception, and take the just reward of all thy hellish 
 deeds — (they make several passes, and the Colonel 
 is slightly wounded — ■Sophia rushes in between them, 
 and is recognized by Col. Hartly^ who, zvifh avert- 
 ed look, exclaims — I'll fight no more^ — at the same 
 time his sword falls from his hand.) [E.rit Col. 
 
 Mr. All. (looking ajter him) Go, contemptible 
 wretch, go whither thou wilt, thy murdered con- 
 science will disturb thee still, and in that retire- 
 ment to which shame and the derision of the world 
 must drive thee, reproaches foul and thick as va- 
 por, from the rankest drug v\^il! gnaw thy vitals to 
 
 the quick. (To the Audience.) Thus it is 
 
 with vice, when once detected : loathed of itself, 
 detested of the world. But virtue ! O, how im- 
 mutable ! how lovely art thou ! — Without thee, 
 nothing is great, nothing estimable. Beauty will 
 fade — -wit and learninc: will uass awav — all the 
 arts and embellishments ot life will vanish like a 
 dream ; but thou art everlasting as the works of 
 God. Without thee, the highest pitch of human 
 grandeur is but misery in disguise. Tliou fearest 
 not the scrutinizing eye of suspicion, nor the slan- 
 dering tongues of men. Probity and truth are thy 
 companions, and the brighter the light in which thou, 
 art seen, the more transcendent arc thy beauties. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 8, line 32nd, for '■'■purred^'' read pursed. 
 
 44, line 2nd, ior " head^'"* read heart. 
 
 58, line 9ih, for '■''factious^'' read facetious. 
 
 N. B. The Prelude, and the scene between Justice 
 Mittimus and Buskin Mac Mummery, was added in con- 
 sequence of its being refused stage representation. 
 
 Copy-Right secured according to Laxi: 
 

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