PR 3364 11 J 8 54 Gass- Book. ^r^e^f^vS^pe^ APPLETON'S EDITION OF THE BRITISH POETS* PROSPECTUS New and Splendid Library Edition OP THE POPULAR POETS AND POETRY OF BRITAIN EDITED, WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES, AUTHOR OF BV THE REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN, 'GALLERY OF LITEEAEY PORTRAITS," "BARDS OF THE BIBLE," ETC. In demy-octavo size, printed from a new pica type, on superfine paper, and neatly bound. Price? only $1 a volume in cloth, or $2 50 in calf extra. " Strangely enough, we bave never had as yet anything at all approaching a satis- factory edition of the English poets. We have had Johnson's, and Bell's, and Cooked and Sharped small sized editions— we have had the one hundred volume edition from the Chiswick press — we have had the double-columned editions of Chalmers and An- derson—and we have the, as yet, imperfect Aldine edition ; but no series has hitherto given evidence that a man of cultivated taste and research directed the whole." — Athen. The splendid series of books now offered to the public at such an unusually low rate of charge, will be got up with all the care and elegance which the present advanced state of the publishing art can command. The well-known literary character and ability of the editor is sufficient guaranty for the accuracy and general elucidation of the text, while the paper, printing, and binding of the volumes will be of the highest class, forming, in these respects, a striking contrast to all existing cheap editions, in which so few efforts have been made to combine superiority in production with low prices. Under the impression that a chronological issue of the Poets would not be so ac- ceptable as one more diversified, it has been deemed advisable to intermix the earlier and the later Poets. Care, however, will be taken that either the author or the volumes are in themselves complete, as published ; so that no purchaser discontinuing the series at any time, will be possessed of imperfect books. The absence in the book market of any handsome uniform series of the Popular Brit- ish Poets, at a moderate price, has induced the publishers to project the present edition, under the impression that, produced in superior style, deserving a place on the shelves of the best libraries, and offered at less than one half the usual selling price, it will meet that amount of patronage which an enterprise, based on such liberal terms, requires. The series will conclude with a few volumes of fugitive pieces, and a History oj British Poetry, in which selections will be given from the writings of those authors whose works do not possess sufficient interest to warrant their publication as a whole. It is believed that this will render the present edition of the British Poets the mos) complete which has ever been issued, and secure for it extensive support The series is intended to inclnde the following authors :— ADDISON. COWPER. , GRAHAME. OPEE. 8PENSER. AKENSIDE. CRABBE. GRAY. PARNELL. SUCKLING. ARMSTRONG. CRA8HAW. GREEN. PENROSE. SURREY. BARBAULD. CUNNINGHAM. HAMILTON, W. PERCY. SWIFT. BEATTIE. DAVTE8. . HARRINGTON. POPE. TANNAHILL. BLAIR. DENHAM. HERBERT. PRIOR. THOMSON. BLOOMFIELD. DONNE. HEREICK. QUARLES. TICKELL. BRUCE. DRAYTON. HOGG. RAMSAY. VAUGHAN, H. BURNS. DRUMMOND. JAMES L ROGERS. WALLER. BUTLER. DRYDEN. JONES. ROSCOMMON. WARTON, J. BYRON. DUNBAR. JOHNSON. ROSS. WARTON, T. CAMPBELL. DYER. JONSON. 8ACEVTLLE. WATT8. CAREW. FALCONER. LEYDEN. SCOTT, J. WHITE, H. A. CHATTERTON. FERGUSSON. LLOYD. SCOTT, 6IR W. WITHER. CHAUCER. FLETCHER, G. LOGAN. 6HAKSPEARE. WTLKTE. CHURCHILL. GAY. MACPHERSON. SHELLEY. WOLOOTT. CLARE. GIFFORD. MALLETT. 8HEN8TONE. WOLFE, COLERIDGE. GLOVER. MARVEL. SMART. WYATT. COLLINS. GOLDSMITH. MILTON. SMOLLETT. YOUNG. COWLEY. GOWER. MOORE. SOMEEVILLE, The following Authors are now ready : JOHN MILTON, 2 vols. : JAMES THOMSON, ? vol. ; GEORGE HERBERT, 1 v<* JAMES YaUl^G, 1 vol Cmqjreltt'js Come&ji OF LOVE FOR LOVE, CAREFULLY REVISED, CURTAILED, AND ALTERED BY JAMES W. WALLACE, AND PRODUCED FOR THE FIRST TIME ON ANY STAGE IN ITS PRESENT FORM, MARCH 1st, 1854, AT WALLACK'S THEATRE, NEW-YORK CORRECTLY MARKED AS ACTED, By HENRY B. PHILLIPS, Prompter. NEW-YORK : D. APPLE TON AND COMPANY, 346 & 348 BROADWAY. LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN. M.DCCG.LTV. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by D. APPLETON & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New-York. /w? 83 AS PERFORMED AT WALLAOK'S THEATRE, N. Y., 1854. Sir Sampson Legend, Father to Valentine and Ben My. Blake. Valentine, in love with Angelica - * Mr. Lester. Scandal, His Friend, a free Speaker * - Mr. Dyott. Tattle, a half-witted beau - - - Mr. Walcot. Ben, Sir Sampson's youngest Son - - Mr. Brougham. Foresight, an illiterate old fellow - - Mr. L. Thompson. Jeremy, Servant to Valentine - - - Mr. F. A. Vincent. Trapland, a Scrivener - - • Mr. Bernard. Buckram, a Lawyer Mr. Lyster. Steward Mr. Brown. Servant - - - - - Mr. Burke, Angelica, Niece to Foresight - - - Mrs. Hoey. Mrs. Foresight, Second Wife to Foresight - Mrs. Cramer. Mrs. Frail, Sister to Mrs. Foresight - - Mrs. Brougham. Miss Prue, Daughter to Foresight by first Wife Mrs. Stephens. Nurse to Miss ------ Mrs. Isherwood Jenny Mrs, Phillips, SCENE IN LONDON. \ LOYE FOR LOYE. ACT I. Scene 1. — Valentine's Chamber. Valentine seated at Ta- ble, r. h., reading ; Jeremy waiting. Several Books upon the table, l. h. Val. Jeremy ! Jer. Sir ! Val. Here, take away, I'll walk a turn, and digest what I have read. [Rises. Jer. You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet ! [Aside, and taking away the books. Val. And, d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an Em- peror. Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he* only write receipts? [Coming down, r. h. Val. Kead, read, sirrah ! and refine your appetite ; learn to live upon instruction ; feast your mind, and mortify your flesh. Read, and take your nourishment in at your eyes. Shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of under- standing. So Epictetus advises. 2 10 LOVE FOR LOV]^k Jer. O Lord ! I havugh lo answer him that v „ml, Mafiam. Jtting unffor good nature ? station y it, as the women do mr friend Jnat it is all affectation. ^— ^ [They go up. tat : lie' . Frail, Miss Prue, Tattle, and ?^jant 1 r. h. Sir Samp. Is^BenlcoMe? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't ! Where! is he ? I long to see him ! Now, Mrs. Frail, you sHall sel my son Ben. — Body o'me, he's the hopes of my f^Fmily-fi han't seen him these three years — I warrant he's groww Qall him in, bid him make haste. [Exit servant^ L.]v#Fm ready to cry for joy ! Mrs. Frail. Now^JjSss, you shall, see your husband. 42 LOVE FOR LOVE. Miss P. He shall be none of my husband ! [Aside to Mrs. Frail. Mrs Frail'. Hush ! Well, he shan't leave that to me ! Mr. Tattle ! *f Valentine, is going, l. Angel. Won't you stay anc^see your brother ? Vol. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere : when he rises, I must set. Besides if I should stay, I don't know but my father *in good nature may press me to the immediate signing the,.- deed of conveyance of my estate, and I'll defer it as long as I can. Well, you'll come to a resolution % \+ # Angel. I cannot. Eesolution must come to me, or I shall never have one. Scand. Come, Valence, I'll g"o with you, -I have some- thing in my head to communicate to your \Exeunt Scandal and Valentine, l. Sir Samp. [ Crosses to l.] What ! Is my son Valentine gone ? What ! Is he sneakecf^>ff, arM would not see his brother ? There's an unnatural whelp ! there's an ill-natured dog ! What ! Were you nere, too.- madam, and could not keep him ? Could neither love, nor duty, norjyitural affec- tion, oblige him ? Odsbudfmadam, have^Raore to say to him ; he is not worth Jfcur consideration ! The rogue has not a drachm of generous love abort him ! All interest, all interest ! He's an undone scou^Bl, and courts your estate ! Body o 'me, he does not care suloit for your person. Angel. I am pretty even with him, Sir Sampson, for, if ever I could have liked any thing in him, it should have been his estate too. But since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears. Sir Samp. Odsbud, well spoken, and you are a wiser woman than I thought you were ! \ LOVE FOR LOVE* 43 Angel. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I am for a good estate with my man, and for any man with a good estate ; there- fore, if I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than your son. Sir Samp. Faith and troth, you are a wise woman> and I'm glad to hear you say so ! I was afraid you were in love with the reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart. Cast him off ! You shall see the rogue show himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of four- score for sustenance ! Odd, I love to see a young spend- thrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy round a dead oak— faith I do ! I love to see them hug, and cotton together, like down upon a thistle ! . Enter Ben and Servant, l. h. Ben. Where's father ? Serv. There, sir, his back's towards you. [Exit, l. h. Sir $amp. My son Ben ! bless thee, my dear boy I Body o' me, thou art heartily welcome ! Ben. Thank you, father, and I'm glad to see you ! Sir Samp. Odsbud, and I-'m glad to see thee ! dear Ben ! [Embraces him. Ben. So, so, enough, father. — Mess, I'd rather kiss these gentlewomen. • . Sir Samp, And so thou shalt ! Mrs. Angelica, my . son Ben ! Ben. Forsooth, • if you please! [Salutes her.] Kay, mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here : about ship, i'faith ! [Kisses Mrs. Frail.'] Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat ! so ! [Kisses Miss Price. Tattle. Sir, you're welcome ashore ! Ben. Thank you, thank you, friend ! Sir Samp. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw thee. 44 LOVE FOR LOVE. Ben. [Croses to l. c] Ey, ey, been ! Been far enough, and that be all. Well father, and how do all at home ? How does brother Dick, and brother Val ? Sir Samp. Dick ! Body o' me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word when you were at Leg- horn. Ben. Mess, that's true : marry, I had forgot, Dick is dead, as you say. Well, and how ? I have a many questions to ask you : Well, you ben't married again ; father, be you ? Sir Samp. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben, — I would not marry for thy sake. Ben. Nay, what does that signify ? — An you marry again- — why then I'll go to sea again ; so there's one for t'other, an that be all ? — Pray don't let me be your hin- drance, e'en marry, an the wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry. Mrs. Frail. That would be pity, such a handsome young gentleman ! Ben. Handsome ! He ! he ! he ! Nay, forsooth, an you • be for joking, I'll joke with you, for I love my jest, an the ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand toward matrimony. I love to roam about from port to port, and , from land to land : I could never abide to be port bound, as we call it. Now, a man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the bilboes, and mayhap mayn't get them out again when he would. Sir Samp. Ben is a wag. -• Ben. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sail- ors : he is chained to an oar all his life, and mayhap forced to tug a leaky vessel into the bargain ! Sir Samp. A very wag ! Ben is a very wag, only a little rough, he wants a little polishing. Mrs. Frail. Not at all, I like this humor mightily : LOVE FOR LOVE. 45 it is plain and honest. I should like such a humor in a husband extremely. Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth ? Marry, and I should like such a handsome gentleman ! How say you, mistress ? Would you like going to sea ? Mess, you're a tight vessel, and well rigged ! But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high wind, or that lady, you mayn't carry so much sail o' your head — top and top-gallant, by the mess ! Mrs. Frail. No ? Why so ? Ben. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset — he ! he ! he ! Angel. I swear, Mr. Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature, an absolute sea wit ! Sir Samp. Nay, Ben has parts, but as I told you be- fore, they want a little polishing. You must not take any thing ill, madam. Ben. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry, I mean all in good part : if I give a jest, I'll take a jest, and so, forsooth, you may be as free with me. Angel. I thank you, sir, — I am not at all offended. But, methinks, Sir Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr. Tattle, we must not hinder lovers. [Crosses to r. Tattle. I have your promise. [Aside to Miss P. Sir Samp. Body o' me, madam, you say true ! [Crosses.] Look you, Ben, this is your mistress. Come, miss, you must not be shame-faced, we'll leave you together. [Passes her over to Ben, l. h. Miss P. I can't abide to be left alone. Mayn't my cousin stay with me ? Sir Samp. No, no ! Come, let's away ! Ben. [Crosses to Sir Samp.] Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking to me ! 46 LOVE FOR LOVE. Sir Samp. I warrant thee, boy ! Come, come, we*ll be gone, I'll venture that ! [Pushes Ben to Miss P. l. h. [Exeunt Sir Sampson, Angelica, Tattle, and Mrs. Frail, r. Ben. Come, mistress, will you please to sit down ? For, an you stand astern a that'n, we shall never grapple together. Come, I'll haul a chair, there, an you please to sit, I'll sit by you. [Brings chairs l., they sit. Miss P. You need not sit so near one, if you have any thing to say, I can hear you further off,- — I an't deaf. [Moves her chair, Ben. Why, that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb, — I can be heard as far as another — I'll heave off, to please you. [Sits further of, r.] An we were a league asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse with you, an 'twere not a main high wind indeed, and full in my teeth. Look you, for- sooth, I am, as it were, bound for the land of matrimony : 'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking, I was commanded by father. How say you, mistress ? the short of the thing is, that, if you like me, and I like you, we may chance to swing in a hammock together. Miss P. I don't know what to say to you, nor I don't care to speak with you at all. Ben. JSTo ? I'm sorry for that ! But, pray, why are you so scornful ? Miss P. As long as one may not speak one's mind, one had better not speak at all, I think ; and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter. , Ben. Nay, you say true in that it's but a folly to lie, for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, I am for carrying things above-board, I'm not for keeping any thing under hatches, — so that if you ben't as willing as I, say so, — there's no harm done. May- LOVE FOR LOVE, 47 hap you may be shame-faced. [Goes to her.] Some maid- ens, tho'f they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why silence gives consent ! Miss P. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner than you should believe that, and I'll speak truth, though one should always tell a lie to a man ; and I don't care, let my father do what he will, I'm too big to be whipt ; so I'll tell you plainly I don't like you, nor love you at all, nor never will, that's more ! So, there's your answer for you, and don't trouble me no more, you ugly thing. [Pises and gets round to r. h. Ben. Look you, young woman, you may learn to give good words, however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and civil. As for your love, or your liking, I don't value it of a rope's end, and mayhap I like you as little as you do me. What I said was in obedience to father. Gad, I fear a whipping no more than you do ! But I tell you one thing, if you should give such language at sea, you'd have a cat-o'-nine-tails laid across your shoulders ! Flesh ! Who are you ? You heard 'tother handsome young woman speak civilly to me, of her own accord. What- ever you think of yourself, gad, I don't think you are any more to compare to her, than a can of small beer to a bowl of punch ! Miss P. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a fine gentleman, and a sweet gentleman, that was here, that loves me, and I love him ; and if he sees you speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket for you, he will, you great sea-calf ! Ben. What ! Do you mean that fair-weather spark that was here just now ? Will he thrash my jacket ? Let'n, let'en ! But an he comes near to me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that ! What does 48 LOVE FOR LOVE. father mean, to leave me alone, as soon as I come home, with such a dowdy? Sea-calf? I an't calf enough to lick your chalked-face ! Marry thee ? Oons, I'll marry a Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds and wrecked vessels ! Miss P. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus, no I won't ! If I were a man [cries] you durst not talk at this rate — no, you durst not, — you nasty tar-barrel ! [ Goes up stage. Enter Mrs. Foresight and Mrs. Frail, r. h. Mrs. Fore. They have quarrelled, just as we could wish ! Ben. Tar-barrel! let your sweetheart there call me so, if he'll take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say something to him. Gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for him ! He shall smell more like a weasel than a civet cat, afore I ha' done with 'en ! Mrs. Fore. [ Crossing to Miss. P.] Bless me ! What's the matter, miss ? "What, does she cry ? Mr. Benjamin, what have you done to her ? Ben. Let her cry. She has been gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her eyes ! Mrs. Fore. Come, miss, come along with me, and tell me, poor child ! Mrs. Frail. Lord, what shall we do ? There's my brother Foresight, and Sir Sampson coming ! Sister, do you take miss down into the parlor, and I'll carry Mr. Benjamin into my chamber, for they must not know that they are fallen out. [Exit Mrs. Fore, and Miss P. l. h.] Come, sir, will you venture yourself with me ? [Looking kindly on him. Ben. Venture ? Mess, and that I will, though it were to sea in a storm ! [Exeunt Ben and Mrs. Frail, c. LOVE FOR LOVE. 49 Enter StR Sampson and Foresight, r. h. Sir Samp. I left them together here. What, are they gone % Ben is a brisk boy, he has got her into a corner. Father's own son, faith ! he'll tousle her ! Odd, if he should, I could not be angry with him, 'twould be but like me, a chip of the old block ! Ha ! thou'rt melan- cholic, old prognostication, as melancholic as if thou hadst spilt the salt, or paired thy nails on a Sunday ! Come, cheer up, look about thee, — look up, old star-gazer! Now he is poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an old horse-nail, with the head towards him ! Fore. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding to-morrow morning. Sir Samp. With all my heart ! Fore. At ten o'clock, punctually at ten ! Sir Samp. To a minute, to a second, thou shalt set thy watch, and the bridegroom shall observe its motions, they shall be married to a minute ! Enter Servant, l. h. Serv. Sir, Mr. Scandal desires to speak with you upon earnest business. Fore. I go to him, Sir Sampson ! Sir Samp. What's the matter, friend ? Serv. Sir, 'tis about your son, Valentine ; something has appeared to him in a dream that makes him pro- phesy ! Enter Scandal, l. h. Scand. Sir Sampson, sad news ! Fore. Bless us ! Sir Samp. Why, what's the matter ? Scand. Something that ought to afflict you and him, and all of us. 50 LOVE FOR LOVE. Sir Samp. Body o' me, I don't know any universal grievance, but a new tax. Scand. Mr. Foresight knew all this, and might have prevented it. Fore. 'Tis no earthquake ? Scand. No, not yet ; nor whirlwind ! But w T e don't know what it may come to, — but it has had a consequence already, that touches us all. Sir Samp. Why, body o' me, out with it ! Scand. Something has appeared to .your son, Valen- tine ; he's very ill. He speaks little, yet he says he has a world to say, — asks for his father and the wise Foresight. I can get nothing out of him but sighs ! Sir Samp. Hoity-toity ! What have I to do with his dreams, or his divination ? This is a trick, to defer signing the conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him, in a dream, that he must not part with liis estate, — but I'll tell him that the devil's a liar, — or, if that won't do, I'll bring a lawyer, that shall outlie the devil I . • [Exeunt, l. h. \ End of Act III. Scene — Valentine's Lo< Je Scand. Well madly, and talk m Jer. Yes, that ! He, tfet! ing, can't be muc Scand. /n V\^>uL reason of his dei Jer. No, sir! his playing the fall in love with him all this while, Scand^ I sav and think I J^rd her Jer. ing my master mistress. I hea believe he woul Scand. Well, I'/l Sc A.NDAL, L. 2 E. Does he look great doubt of esterday morn- adman to-day. uainted with the to try whether play the fool, and she has loved just now with her maid, bid the coachman drive hither, sir, for I told her maid this morn- stark mad, only for love of her stop : if it should be she, sir, I ir till he hears how she takes it. r — 'tis she, here she comes ! ee try Enter Angelica, l. 2. e. Angel. Mr. Scandal, 1/ suppose you don't think it a ■ novelty to see a woman vjsit a man at his own lodgings in a morning ? 52 LOVE FOR LOVE. Scand. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But, when a lady comes tyrannically to insult a ruined lover, and make manifest the cruel triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of it something surprises me. Angel. I don't like raillery from a serious face. Pray tell me what is the matter ? Jer. No strange matter, madam, — my master's mad, that's all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him so a great while. f . Angel. How d'ye mean, mad ? [ Grosses to Jeremy. Jer. Why, faith, madam, *he's mad for want of his wits, just as he was poor for want of his money. His head is e'en as light as his pockets, and any body that has a mind to a bad bargain, can't do better than to beg him for his estate. Angel. If you speak truth, your endeavoring at wit is very unreasonable ! Scand. \_Aside^\ She's concerned, aad loves him. Angel. Mr. Scandal, you can't think ,me guilty of so much inhumanity, as not to ba concerned for a man I must own myself obliged to. Pray tell me the truth ! Scand. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend the matter. But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful passion. / Angel. [Aside?^ I know not what to think ! Yet I should be vexed to have a trick put upon me ! May I not see him? Scand. I'm afraid the physician is «not willing you should see him yet. Jeremy, go in, and inquire. [Exit Jeremy, c. Angel. Ha ! I saw him wink, and smile ! I fancy a trick — I'll try ! [^4side.] I would disguise to all the world, sir, a failing which I must own to you. I fear my happi- ness depends upon the recovery of Valentine. Therefore, LOVE FOR LOVE. 53 I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have com- passion upon one fearful of affliction, to tell me what I am to hope for — I cannot speak — but you may tell me, for you know what I would ask ! Scand. So, this is pretty plain ! — Be not too much concerned, madam : I hope his condition is not desperate . An acknowledgment of love from you, perhaps, may work a cure, as the fear of your aversion occasioned his distemper. Angel. Say you so ? Nay, then, I'm convinced : and if I don't play trick for trick, may I never taste the pleasure of revenge ! [Aside.] Acknowledgment of love ! I find you have mistaken my compassion, and think me guilty of a weakness I am a stranger to. But I have too much sincerity to deceive you, and too much charity to suffer him to be deluded with vain hopes. Good nature and humanity oblige me to be concerned for him ; but to love, is neither in my power nor inclination. Scand. Hey, brave woman, i' faith ! Won't you see him then, if he desire it ? Angel. What signify a madman's desires ? Besides, 'twould make me uneasy. If I don't see him perhaps my concern for him may lessen. If I forget him, 'tis no more than he has done by himself, and now the surprise is over, methinks I am not half so sorry as I was. [Crosses, l. Scand. You were confessing just now. an obligation to his love. Angel. But I have considered that passions are un- reasonable, and involuntary. If he loves, he can't help it : and if I don't love, I cannot help it, no more than he can help his being a man, or I my being a woman, or no more than I can help my want of inclination to stay longer here. [Exit, l. 2. e. Scand. Humph ! An admirable composition, faith, this same womankind ! 54 LOVE FOR LOVE. Enter Jeremy, c. Jer. What, is she gone, sir ? Scand. Gone ? Why she was never here, nor any where else, nor I don't know her if I see her, nor you neither ! Jer. Good lack ! What's the matter now ? Are any more of us to be mad ? Why, sir, my master longs to see her, and is almost mad in good earnest with the joyful news of her being here ! Scand. We are all under a mistake — ask no ques- tions, for I can't resolve you, but I'll inform your master. In the mean time, if our project succeed no better with his father than it does with his mistress, he may descend from his exaltation of madness, into the road of common sense, and be content only to be made a fool with other reason- able people. I hear Sir Sampson ! You know your cue ? I'll to your master. [Exit, c. d. Enter Sir Sampson, and Buckram, l. 2. e. Sir Samp. D'ye see, Mr. Buckram, here's the paper signed with his own hand. Buck, [l.] Good, sir ! And the conveyance is ready drawn, if he be ready to sign and seal. Sir Samp. Eeady ! body o' me, he must be ready, his sham sickness shan't excuse him ! — 0, here's his scoun- drel ! — Sirrah, where's your master ? Jer. [r. h.] Ah, sir, he's quite gone ! Sir Samp. Gone ! What, he is not dead ? Jer. No, sir, not dead. Sir Samp. What ! is he gone out of town ? Run away ? Ha ! has he tricked me ? Speak, varlet ! Jer. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but as found, poor gentleman ! He is indeed here, sir, and not here, sir ! LOVE FOR LOVE. 55 Sir Samp. Heyday ! rascal, do you banter me ? Sirrah, d'ye banter me ? — : Speak, sirrah ! Where is he ? for I will find him ! Jer. Would you could, sir, for he has lost himself. Indeed, sir, I have almost broke my heart about him — I can't refrain tears when I think of him, sir- — I'm as melan- choly for him as a passing bell, sir, or a horse in a pound ! Sir Samp. Confound your similitudes, sir ! Speak to be understood, and tell me in plain terms what the mat- ter is with him, or I'll crack your fool's skull ! [Raises his cane. Jer. Ah, you've hit it, sir, that's the matter with him, sir, his skull's cracked, poor gentleman ! He's stark mad, sir ! Sir Samp. Mad ! Buck. What ! is he non compos ? Jer. Quite non compos, sir ! Buck. Why, then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson ! If he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no effect ; it is not good in law. Sir Samp. Oons, I won't believe it! let me see him, sir. Mad ! I'll make him find his senses ! Jer. Mr. Scandal is with him, sir ; I'll knock at the door. [Goes to c. d., which opens, and discovers Valentine and Scandal. Valentine upon a couch, disorderly dressed. Scandal and Jeremy push the couch forward. Sir Samp. How now ? What's here to do ? [Crosses to r. Vol. Ha ! Who's that ? [Starting. Scand. For heaven's sake ! softly, sir, and gently, don't provoke him ! Vol. Answer me, who is that? and that? Sir Samp. Gads bobs ! does he not know ? Is he mischievous? I'll speak gently. [Crosses, o.] Val, Val, 56 LOVE FOR LOVE. dost thou not know me, boy ? Not know thy own father, Val ? I am thy own father, and this, honest Brief Buck- ram, the lawyer ! Val. It may be so— I did not know you — the world is full. There are people that we do know, and people that we do not know, and yet the sun shines upon all alike. There are fathers that have many children, and there are children that have many fathers — 'tis strange ! — But I am honesty, and come to give the world the lie ! Sir Samp. Body o' me, I know not what to say to him ! Val. Why does that lawyer wear black ? does he carry his conscience without-side ? Lawyer, what art thou ? [Crosses.] Dost thou know me ? [Exit to Buckram. Buck. O Lord, what must I say ? Yes, sir ! Val. Thou liest, for I am honesty ! 'Tis hard I can- not get a livelihood amongst you ! I have been sworn out of Westminster Hall the first day of every term — let me see — no matter how long. For my part, I am honesty, and can't tell, I have very few acquaintance ! [Goes up c. and throws himself on couch. Sir Samp. [Gets to r. h. in fear.'] Body o' me, he talks sensibly in his madness ! Has he no intervals ? [To Jeremy. Jer. Very short, sir. . Buck. Sir, I can do you no service while he's in this condition. Here's your paper, sir ! He may do me a mis- chief if I stay. [Exit l. 2 e. Sir Sa?np. Hold, hold, don't you go yet ! Scand. You'd better let him go, sir, and send for him if there be occasion, for I fancy his presence provokes him more. Val. Is the lawyer gone ? 'Tis well, then we may drink about without going together by the ears. Heigh- LOVE FOR LOVE. 5*7 ho ! What o'clock is it ? My father here ? Your bless- ing, sir. [Falls on his knees. Sir Samp. He recovers ! — Bless thee, Val ! How dost thou do, boy ? [Goes timidly towards him. Val. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a little out of order. Won't you please to sit, sir ? Sir Samp. Ay, boy ! Come, thou shalt sit down by me. [Puts cane on table, r., and goes timidly to sofa, c. and sits. Val. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait. Sir Samp. No, no ! come, come, sit thee down, honest Yal. [ Val. appears to be scratching the ground — Sir Sampson watches him with great fear, and gradually gets over the sofa and runs for his cane.] Come, come, Val, — no more of this — sit down. [ Val. sits on sofa.] How dost thou do? let me feel thy pulse. Oh, pretty well now, Val. Body o' me, I was sorry to see thee indisposed; but I am glad thou art better, honest Val ! Val. I thank you, sir. Scand, Miracle ! The monster grows loving ! [Aside. Sir Samp. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does not shake, — I believe thou canst write, Val. Ha, boy ? thou canst write thy name, Val ? Jeremy, step and overtake Mr. Buckram, bid him make haste back with the conveyance — quick ! [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e. Scand. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any remorse ! [Aside. Sir Samp. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thou'rt honest, and wilt perform articles. [Showing Val. paper, but holding it out of his reach. Val. Pray let me see it, sir. You hold it so far off, that I can't tell whether I know it, or no ! Sir Samp. See it, boy ! Ay, ay, why thou dost see 4 58 LOVE FOR LOTE. it — 'tis thy own hand, Vally ! Why, let me see, I can read it, as plain as can be ; look you here — [Beads] u The condition of this obligation." Look you, as plain as can be, so it begins. And then at the bottom — " As witness my hand, Valentine Legend" — in great letters ! Why, 'tis as plain as the nose in one's face ! What, are my eyes better than thine ? I believe I can read it further off yet — let me see. [Stretches his arm as far as he can. Val. Will you please to let me hold it, sir ? Sir Samp. Let thee hold it, say'st thou ? Ay, with all my heart ! What matter is it who holds it ? What need any body hold it ? I'll put it in my pocket, Yal, and then nobody need hold it ! [Puts the paper in his pockety There Val: it's safe, boy. But thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy h^nd to another paper, little Val ! Enter Jeremy and Buckram, l. 2 e. Val. [Starts, Sir Samp, jumps up and runs, r. h.] What, is my bad genius here again ? Oh, no, 'tis the lawyer with an itching palm, and he's come to be scratch- ed ! My nails are not long enough. Let me have a pair of red-hot tongs quickly, quickly, and you shall see me act St. Dunstan, and lead the devil by the nose. [Leads Buckram by nose. Buckram runs out, l. 2 e.] Ha ! ha ! ha ! You need not run so fast. Honesty will not overtake you ! Sir Samp. Oons, what a vexation is here ! I know not what to do or say, or which way to go. Val. Who's that that's out of his way ? I am Honesty, and can set him right. Harkee, friend [Crosses to Jeremy], the straight road is the worst way you can go. But it is wonderful strange, Jeremy. Jer. What is, sir ? Val. That grey hairs should cover a green head, and I make a fool of my father. [Enter Foresight, Mrs. F. and Mrs. Frail, l. 2 e.] What's here ? Err a Pater, or a LOVE FOR LOVE. 59 bearded sibyl ? If prophecy comes, Honesty must give place. [Exeunt Valentine, Jeremy, c. r. Fore. What says he ? What did he prophesy ? Ha, Sir Sampson ! Bless us ! how are we ? Sir Samp. Are we ? A plague o' your prognostica- tion ! Why, we are fools as we- used to be. Oons, that you could not foresee that the moon would predominate, and my son be mad ! Ah ! that I who know the world, and men and manners, who don't believe a syllable in the sky and stars, and sun and almanacks, and trash, should be directed by a dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business in expectation of a lucky hour ! when, body o' me ! there never was a lucky hour after the first opportunity ! [Exit, l. 2 e. Fore. Ah, Sir Sampson, Heaven help your head ! This is none of your lucky hour — Nemo omnibus horis. sapitf What, is he gone, and in contempt of science? Ill stars, and uncontrovertible ignorance attend him ! Scand. You must excuse his passion, Mr. Foresight, for he has been heartily vexed. His son is non compos men- tis, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in law, so that all his measures are disappointed. Fore. Ha ! say you so ? Mrs. Frail. What, has my sea lover lost his anchor of hope, then ? [Aside to Mrs. Foresight. Mrs. Fore. sister, what will you do with him ? Mrs. Frail. Do with him ? Send him to sea again in the next foul weather. He's used to an inconstant element, and won't be surprised to see the tide turned. Fore. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this ? [ Considers. Scand. You look pretty well, Mrs. Foresight. How did you rest last night ? Fore. Truly, Mr. Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams, and distracted visions, that I remember little. 60 LOVE FOR LOVE. Scand. But would you not talk with Valentine ? Per- haps you may understand him; lam apt to believe, there is something mysterious in his discourse, and sometimes rather think him inspired than mad. Fore. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr. Scandal, truly. I am inclining to your Turkish opinion in this matter, and do reverence a man whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to him. [Exeunt, c. Mrs. Frail. Sister, do you go with them, I'll find out my lover, and give him his discharge, and come to you. [Exit Mrs. Foresight, c. d. On my conscience here he comes ! [Sits on sofa. Enter Ben, l. 2 e. Ben. All mad, I think ! Flesh, I believe all the Ca- lentures of the sea are come ashore, for my part. Mrs. Frail. Mr. Benjamin in choler ! Ben. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane upon your account yonder. [Sits by her. Mrs. Frail. My account ? — Pray, what's the matter ? Ben. Why, father came and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced thing, as he would have me marry, so he asked what was the matter. He asked in a surly sort of a way. It seems brother Val is gone mad, and so that put'n into a passion, but what did I know that ? What's that to me ? — So he asked in a surly sort of manner, and, gad, • I answered 'em as surlily ! What tho'f he be my father, I an't bound prentice to 'em : so, faith, I told'n in plain terms, if I were minded to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him ; and for the young woman that he provided for me, I thought it more fitting for her, to learn her sampler, and make dirt pies, than to look after a husband ; for my part, I was none of her man — I had another voyage to make, let him take it as he will ! LOVE FOR LOVE. 61 Mrs. Frail. So then, you intend to go to sea again ? Ben. Nay, nay, my mind run upon you — but I would not tell him so much. So he said, he'd make my heart ache, and if so be that he could get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, an you play the fool, and marry at these years, there's more danger of your head's aching than my heart ! He was woundy angry when I giv'n that wipe — he hadn't a word to say, and so I left'n and the green girl together ; mayhap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her himself, — with all my heart ! Mrs. Frail. And were you this undutiful and grace- less wretch to your father ? Ben. Then why was he graceless first? * Mrs. Frail. [Bises.] impiety ! how have I been mis* taken ! What an inhuman merciless creature have I set my heart upon ! O, I am happy to have discovered the shelves and quicksands that lurk beneath that faithless smiling face ! [Crosses to l. Ben. Hey, toss ? What's the matter now ? Why you ben't angry, be you ? Mrs. Frail. O see me no more, [Crosses, r.] for thou wert born amongst rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in a tempest, and whistled to by winds, and thou art come forth with fins and scales, and three rows of teeth, a most out- rageous fish of prey ! Ben. O Lord, O Lord, she's mad, poor young woman! love has turned her senses, her brain is quite overset ! — Well-a-day, how shall I do to set her to rights ? Mrs. Frail. No, no, I am not mad, monster ; I am wise enough to find you out ! — Hadst thou the impudence to aspire at being a husband, with that stubborn and dis- obedient temper ? You, that know not how to submit to a father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo a wife ? I should have been finely fobbed, indeed, very finely fobbed ! 62 LOVE FOR LOVE. Ben. Harkee, forsooth ! If so be that you are in your right senses, d'ye see, for aught as I perceive I'm likely to be finely fobbed — if I have got anger here upon your ac- count, and you are tacked about already ! What d'ye mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, — what would you sheer off so ? — Would you, and leave me aground ? Mrs. Frail. No, Til leave you adrift, and go which way you will ! Ben. What, are you false-hearted then ? Mrs. Frail. Only the wind's changed. Ben. More shame for you ! — The wind's changed ! It is an ill wind blows nobody good ! Mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these be your tricks. What, did yau mean all this while to make a fool of me?. Mrs. Frail. Any fool but a husband. Ben. Husband ! Gad, I would not be your husband, if you would have me, now I know your mind, tho'f you had your weight in gold and jewels, and tho'f I loved you never so well ! Mrs. Frail. Why, canst thou love, Porpus ? Ben. No matter what I can do, don't call names — I don't love you so well as to bear that, whatever I did. I'm glad you show yourself, mistress : — let them marry you as don't know you. Gad, I know you too well, by sad ex- perience, — I believe he that marries you will go to sea in a henpecked frigate ! I believe that, young woman ! So there's a dash for you, take it as you will, mayhap you may hollow after me when I won't come to ! [Exit, l. 2 e. Mrs. Frail. Ha, ha, ha! No doubt on't ! [Sings.'] " My true love is gone to sea !" [Enter Mrs. Foresight, c] O, sister, had you come a minute sooner you would have seen the resolution of a lover. Honest Tar and I are parted, — and with the same indifference that we met. LOVE FOR LOVE. 63 Mrs. Fore. What then, he bore it most heroically ? Mrs. Frail. Most tyrannically! But I'll tell you a hint that he has given me. Sir Sampson is enraged, and talks desperately of committing matrimony himself. Now, if we could bring it about ! Mrs. Fore. O hang him, old fox ! he's too cunning ; besides, he hates both you and me. But I have a project in my head for you, and I have gone a good way towards it. I have almost made a bargain with Jeremy, Valentine's man, to sell his master to us. Mrs. Frail. Sell him ? How ? Mrs. Fore. Valentine raves upon Angelica, and took me for her, and Jeremy says, will take any body for her that he imposes on him. Now, I have promised him mountains, if in one of his mad fits he will bring you to him in her stead, and get you married together, — and if he should recover his senses, he'll be glad, at least, to make you a good settle- ment. Here they come, stand aside a little, and tell me how you like the design. Enter Scandal and Jeremy, c. Scand. And have you given your master a hint of their plot upon him ? [To Jeremy.' Jer. Yes, sir, he says he'll favor it, and mistake her for Angelica. Enter Valentine and Foresight, c. Valentine has hold of Foresight's cravat, and leads him forward. .; Scand. It may make us sport. Fore. Mercy on us ! Vol. Hush't ! Interrupt me not — I'll whisper predic- tion to thee, and thou shalt prophesy ? I have told thee what's past — now I'll tell what's to come. Dost thou know what will happen to-morrow ? Answer me not — for I will 64 LOVE FOR LOVE. tell thee. To-morrow knaves will thrive through craft, and fools through fortune, and Honesty will go as it did, — frost- nipt in a summer-suit. Ask me questions concerning to- morrow. Sxand. Ask him, Mr. Foresight. Fore. Pray what will be done at Court ? Val. Scandal will tell you. I am Honesty, — I never come there. [Crosses, l. Fore. In the city ? Val. Oh, prayers will be said in empty churches, at the usual hours. Yet you will see such zealous faces behind counters, as if religion were to be sold in every shop. Oh ! things will go methodically in the city. The clocks will strike twelve at noon, and the horned herd buzz in the ex- change at two. Husband and wives will drive distinct trades, and care and pleasure separately occupy the family. But hold, I must examine you before I go further, you look suspiciously. Are you a husband ? Fore. I am married. Val. Poor creature ! Is your wife of Covent Garden parish ? Fore. No. St. Martin in the Fields. Val. Alas, poor man ! his eyes are sunk, and his hands shrivelled, his legs dwindled, and his back bowed. Pray, pray for a metamorphosis. Change thy shape and shake off age, get the Medea's kettle and be boiled anew, come forth with laboring, callous hands, a chine of steel, and Atlas' shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pedestals to stand erect upon, and look matrimony in the face. [Goes up and sits on sofa. Fore. His frenzy is very high now, Mr. Scandal. Scand. I believe it is a spring-tide. Fore. Very likely, truly. You understand these mat- ters. Mr. Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with, you ■lb? ' t. LOVE \OR LOVE. 65 about these things w\uciAfife 3as uttered. His sayings are very mysterious, and m^ogfljphical. Val. Oh, why wouloNqJgelica be absent from my eyes so long ? Jer. She's here, Mrs. Fore. Now, Mrs. Frail. O LordJ Scand. Humor him, Val. Where is she ?< riches, health, and liberty and abandoned wret [Advance! Mrs. Frail. Val. and the moon married in the dead men shall put his t» secret, and J he may fold h\ Ogling ha? nobody shanfcnow ftuCTeremy Mrs. Frail. 5^, no, we'll keep it secret ! FoflL The sooler&eJbetter. Xdremy, come hither — closer — tn^Lnone may ovenfe 1 UT B U!§; Jeremy, I can tell you news. Angela isfeurned nun, and I am turned friar ; and yet we'll marr\ onafenother in spite of the pope ! Get me a cowl and raids, jnat I may play my part — for she'll meet me two hours henie in\)lack and white, and a long veil to cover the project ;/and \% won't see one another's faces ! m$dam, /y all m\ans. I s/e her ! — i he comes like nce/to a despa: 'ing, starving, welcome, welco ne ! •s. Frail and Jcu ses her hand. Can I serv< you ? et to tell yo i — Endymion i Iwfount Latmls, and we'll be t say not la word. Hy- lanternjthat it may be acock p/ppy-water, that hundied eyes be shut, Enter Tattle cmd Angelica, l. 2 e. Jer. I'll take care, a#d — Val. Whisper-^Jffiff etm t Val. Jer. & Mrs. Frail, c # Angelica: ¥afig$.' Tattle, if you make love to me, 4* 66 LOVE FOR LOVE. you spoil my design, for I intend to* make you my con- fidant, v^ S cartel. How's this ! Tattle making love to Angelica ! Tattle. But, madam, to*thfow away your person, such a person ! and such a fortunefon a» madman ! Angel. I never loved mjn Jill he was mad, but don't tell any body so. > C. ¥ Tattle. Tell, madam ! $Jas you don't know me ! — I have much ado to tell your ladyship how long I have been in love with you — but encouraged by the impossibility of Valentine's making any more addresses to you, I have ventured to declare the verylnmost'passion of my heart ! Oh, madam, compare us ! In Valentine, you see the ruins of a poor decayed creature ! Here, a complete^ lively figure, with youth and health, an*d ail his fivs senses in perfection, madam, and to all this the most passionate lover. — Angel. O, fie for shgfme, hold your tongue ! A pas- sionate lover, and five senses h> perfection*! When you are as mad as Ifalentine, Til Relieve you loy'e me, and the maddest shall take me. t \ t Re-enter Valentine, Mrs, Frail, and Jeremy, c. Val. It is enough-;— Ha ! who's here ? f Mrs. Frail. O Lord, her coming will spoil all ! • t t [To Jeremy. Jer. No, no, madam, he won't know heWif he should, I can persuade him. y Val. Scandal, who are thesfc ? [Comes forward, c. tvith Scandal] Foreigners ? Iff they are, I'll tell you what I think. Get away all ise company but Angelica, that I may discover my design to her. [ Whispers. Scand. I will — I have discovered something of Tattle * that is of a piece with Mrs. Frail.VHe courts Angelica; if we could contrive to couple them t€^e%er. Hark'ee — [Whispers. Scandal fhul Val. retire, c. d fttul Val. ret LOVE FOR LOVE. 6? Mrs. Fore. He won't know yon, cousin, he knows nobody. Fore. But he knows more than any body ! Oh, niece, he knows things past and to come, and all the profound secrets of time. Tattle. Look you, Mr. Foresight [Crosses], it is not iny way to make many words of matters, and so I shan't say much. But in short, d'ye see, I will hold you a hundred pounds now that I know more secrets than he ! Fore. How ? I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr. Tattle. — Pray, what do you know ? Tattle. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir $ Read it in my face ? No, sir, it is written in my heart, and safer there, sir, than letters written in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out ! I am no blab, sir ! He-enter Valentine and Scandal, c. Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it about, They are welcome, and I'll fell them so myself. [To Scandal,] What, do you look strange upon me ? Then I must be plain. [Coming up to them.] I am Honesty, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face. [Scandal goes aside with Jeremy. Tattle. Do you know me, Valentine? [Crosses to Val. Val. You ! Who are you ? No, I hope not. Tattle* I am Jack Tattle, your friend. Val. My friend ! What to do ? I am no married man ! I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend. Tattle. Ha ! A good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret. [Crosses to l. corner. Angel. Do you know me, Valentine ? [Goes to him. Val. Oh, very well ! Angel. Who am I ? 68 LOVE FOR LOVE. Val. You're a woman — one to whom Heaven gave beauty, when it grafted roses on a briar. You are the re- flection of Heaven in a pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet of lovely, spotless paper, when you are first born, but you are to be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you, for I loved a woman, and loved her so long that I found out a strange thing. I found out what a woman was good for. Tattle. Ay; pr'ythee, what's that ? Val. Why, to keep a secret. Tattle. OLord! Val. 0, exceeding good to keep a secret : for though she should tell, yet she is not believed. [Retires to couch. Tattle. Ha ! good again, faith ! [Jeremy and Scandal whisper, Jer. I'll do't, sir. Scand. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief. Fore. I will be directed by you. Mercy on us ! [Exit Foresight, l. 2 e. Jer. [To Mrs. Frail.] You'll meet, madam. I'll take care every thing shall be ready. Mrs. Frail. Thou shalt do what thou wilt ; in short, I will deny thee nothing. [Exit Mrs. Frail, l. 2 e. Tattle. Madam, shall I wait upon you ? [To Angelica. Angel. No, I'll stay with him. Mr. Scandal will pro- tect me. Aunt, Mr. Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait on you. Tattle. There's no coming off now she has said that. Madam, will you do me the honor ? Mrs. Fore. Mr. attle might have used less ceremony ! [Crosses to Tattle, Tattle turns to look at Val. who draws his sword and Tattle and Mrs. F. run out, l. 2 e. Scand. Jeremy, follow Tattle. [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e. LOVE FOR LOVE. (59 Angel. [Sits in chair, r. h.] Mr. Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I had a mind to be rid of Tattle. - Scand. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which you gave to Mr. Tattle, for his imper- tinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery, and your ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations. Angel. Oh, heavens ! You w$n't leave me alone with a madman ? Scand. No, madam, I only leave a madman to his remedy. * [£kit, l. 2 e. Val. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself. Angel. [JRises.] Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged ! [Aside. Val. [Rises^\ You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason, and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness, and this motley livery, only as the slave of love, and menial creature of your beauty ! Angel. Mercy on me, how he talks ! — poor Valentine ! Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart, and let us think of leaving acting, and be ourselves, and since you have loved me, you must own, I have at length deserved you should confess it. Angel. \_Sighs.~] I would I had loved you ! — for, Heaven knows, I pity you, and, could I have foreseen the sad effects, I would have striven, — but that's too late. Val. What sad effects? What's too late? My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate, which otherwise, 70 LOVE FOR LOVE. by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here. Angel. How ! I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul, which, it seems, you only coun- terfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest ! Vol. Nay, now you do me wrong, for, if any interest was considered, it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love, to make me worthy of you. Angel. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded, by this interval of sense, to reason with a madman ? VaL, Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer! Miter Jeremy, l. 2 e. Angel. Oh, here's a reasonable creature, sure he will not have the impudence to persevere ! Come, Jeremy, ac- knowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit. Jer. Counterfeit, madam ! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any freeholder in Bed- lam ! Nay he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chemist, lover, or poet, in Europe ! Vol. Sirrah, you lie, I am not mad! Angel. Ha, ha, ha ! You see he denies it. [Sits on sofa, c. Jer. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own it ? Vol. Sot ! Can't you apprehend ? Angel. Why, he talked very sensibly just now ! Jer. Yes, madam, he has intervals, "but you see he be- gins to look wild again now. Vol. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer ! [Beats him. LOVE FOR LOVE. 71 Angel. Ha, ha, ha ! Is he mad, or no, Jeremy ? Jer. Partly, I think, for he does not know his own mind two hours! I'm sure I left him .just now in the humor to be mad, and I think I have not found him very quiet at the present. [A knock, l. 2 e.] Who's there ? Val. Go see, you sot ! [Exit Jeremy, l. 2 e.] I'm very glad that Tcan move your mirth, though not your compassion ! [ Crosses, l. Angel, [r. m. b.] I did not think you had apprehension enough^jto be exceptious. But now you have restored me to my former opinion and compassion. Re-enter Jeremy, l. 2 e. Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how ? Val. Stupidity! You know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for the confession of my senses. I'm mad, and will be mad, to every body but this lady ! Jer. Madam, your ladyship's woman. Enter Jenny, l. 2 e. Angel. [ Crosses to Jenny.] Well, have you been there ? Come hither. Jenny. Yes, madam, Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. [Aside to Angelica and goes up to door. Val. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty ? Angel. Would any thing but a madman complain of uncertainty? uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life ! Security is an insipid thing, and the overtaking and possess- ing of a wish, discovers the folly of the chase. Never let us know one another better, for the pleasure of a masquerade is done, when we come to show our faces. But I'll tell you two things before I'll leave you, — I am not the fool you take me for, and you are mad, and don't know it. [Exeunt Ang. and Jenny, l. 2 s. 72 LOVE FOR LOVE. Vol. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a rid- dle. Yet I will pursue her, and know her if it be pos- sible, in spite of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says That women are like tricks by slight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand. [Knocks Jeremy over sofa and exits, l. 2 e. End of Act IV. -*** ACT V. A Room in Foresight's House. ENNY, M Angel. W he would be her Jenny. He's & madam, setting his Angel. How ! should like him, i than half my design? Jenny. I hear h? Angel. Leave me, come, or se: m lev Angelica, idid vou not and ;ell me the dininl'-room, at\md wi *Lad has meAand tW 'mind T ;'s more tiiadas notf;^ .hear, if Valafftine should [Exit Jenny, l. Doken ^AMPSON, R. Sir Samp. I have JbtXbeen honored with the com- mands of a fair lady a JreatVvhile. Odd, madam, you have revived me — not sirjce I wis five-and- thirty ! Angel. Why, you ihave nolgreat reason to complain, Sir Sampson ; that is not long agl Sir Samp. Zooks, but it js, madam, a very great while, to a man that admires a/ fine woman as much as I do. Angel. You're an absolu^ courtier, Sir Sampson. 74 LOVE FOR LOVE. Sir Samp. Not a? all, madam. Odsbud, you wrong me ! Let me tell y€u, you women think a man old too soon, faith and troth you do ! Come, don't despise fifty ; odd, fifty, in a hale^c^ffstitution, is no such contemptible age! \3 / Angel. Fifty a! contemptible age ! Not at all : a very fashionable age; I think. I assure you, I know very considerable beaux, tjfrat set a good face upon fifty ! Fifty ! I have seen fifty in S side-box by candlelight, out blossom five-and-twenty ! > # * Sir Samp. Outsides, outsits, mere outsides ! Hang your side-box beaux ! rfo, I'm none of tho§e, — none of your forced = trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when they should bring forth-'fruit. I am of a long-lived race, arid inherit* viger. None of my ancestors married till fifty. I am of ^y our patriarchs, /, a branch of one of your ^antediluvian families, fellows *bhat the flood could not wash away! TV^ll,*madarn,- what are your com- mands ? Vilas any young rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat ? or — $ Angel. *!No, Sir Sampson, I £ave no quar rel upon my hands. I have'-more occasion for your c^lrauct than your courage at this tirneT To tell you the^ruth, I'm weary of living single. Jf ' Sir Samp. Odsbud, arril iKs pity you should ! Odd, would she would like 16 e I then I should hamper my young rogue : odd, would she wiould, faith and troth, she's devilish handsome! [^.4|^e.] TMadam, you deserve a good husband ! and 'twere pity\ you should be thrown away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging — that is a very young fellow-^they never think beforehand of any thing, — and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murder, out of a njolic, and are ready to hang LOVE FOR LOVE. *J5 themselves, or to be hanged by the law the next morning. Odso, have a care, madam ! Angel. Therefore, I ask your advice, Sir Sampson, — I have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can like, — if there were such a thing as a young, agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of good nature and sense — for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool. Sir Samp. Odd, you are hard to please, madam : to find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task. But, faith and troth, you speak very discreetly ! I hate a wit, — I had a son that was spoilt among them, — a good hopeful lad, till he learnt to be a wit — and might have risen in the state. But his wit ran him out of his money, and now his poverty has run him out of his wits ! Angel. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you, you are veiy much abused in that matter — he's no more mad than you are. Sir Samp. How, madam! Would I could prove it! Angel. I can tell you how that may be done— but it is a thing that would make me appear to be too much con- cerned in your affairs. Sir Samp. Odsbud, I believe she likes me ! [-4stc?c] Ah, madam, all my affajrs are scarce worthy to be laid at your feet ! If I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the Eastern empire under my feet, it would make me only a more glorious victim, to be offer'd at the shrine of your beauty ! Angel. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the matter ? Sir Samp. Odd, madam, I love you — and if you would take my advice in a husband — Angel. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson, I asked your advice for a husband, and you are giving me your consent ! I 76 LOVE FOR LOVE. was indeed thinking to propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine ; for if a match were seem- ingly carried on between you and me, it would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness, in apprehension of losing me, for, you know he has long pretended a passion for me. Sir Samp.. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance — if we were to go through with it ! But why must the match only be seemingly carried on ? Odd, let it be a real con- tract ! Angel. fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world say ? Sir Samp. Say ? They would say you were a wise woman, and I a happy man ! Odd, madam, I'll love you as long as I live, and leave you a good jointure when I die! Angel. Ay, but that is not in your power, Sir Samp- son, for when Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he must make over his inheritance to his younger brother. Sir Samp. Odd, you're cunning, a wary baggage ! Faith and troth, I like you the better ! But, I warrant you, I have a proviso in the obligation in favor of myself. Body o' me, I have a trick to turn the settlement upon the male issue ! Odsbud, I'll find an estate ! Angel. "Will you? Sir Samp. O rogue ! and will you consent ? It ii a match then \ Angel. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this ob- ligation, and if I find what you propose practicable, I'll give you my answer. Sir Samp. With all my heart ! Come in with me, and I'll lend you the bond. [Crosses, l.] You shall con- sult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. Odzooks, I'm a young man, I'm a young man ! Odd, you're devilish LOVE FOR LOVE. 77 handsome ! Faith and troth, you're very handsome, and I'm very young ! Odsbud, hussy, you know how to choose, and so do I ! Odd, I think we are very well met. Give me your hand, odd, let me kiss it, 'tis as warm and as soft as what ? Odd, as t'other hand ! Angel. Hold, Sir Sampson ! You're profuse. Sir Samp. Ah ! baggage. Odd, Sampson is a very good name ! Your Sampsons were strong dogs from the beginning ! Angel. But, if you remember, Sampson, the strongest of the name pulled an old house over his head at last. Sir Samp. Say you so, hussy ? I'll risk the tumbling of the temple. [Exeunt, l. h. kissing her hand. Enter Tattle and Jeremy, c. Tattle, [l.] Is not that she gone out just now? Jer. [r.] Ay, sir, she's just going to the place of ap- pointment. Ah, sir, if you are not very faithful and close in this business, you'll certainly be the death of a person that has a most extraordinary passion for your honor's service. Tattle. Ay, who's that ? Jer. Even my unworthy self, sir. Sir, I have had an appetite to be fed with your commands a great while — and now, sir, my former master having much troubled the fountain of his understanding, it is a very plausible occasion for me to quench my thirst at the spring of your bounty ! I thought I could not recommend my- self better to you, sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty and fortune into your arms, whom I have heard you sigh for! Tattle. I'll make thy fortune, say no more ! Thou H-ifrt a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to a lady in a pretty soft kind of phrase, and with a good persuad- ing accent. 18 LOVE FOR LOVE. Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oratory in my head — I have been at Cambridge. Tattle. Ay, 'tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University, but the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman. I hope you are secretin your nature, private, close, ha ? Jer. sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent ; I'm as secret as the head of Nilus ! Tattle. Ay ? Who's he, though ? A privy-counsel- lor ? Jer. O ignorance ! (aside.) A cunning Egyptian, sir, that with his arms could overrun the country, yet nobody could ever find out his head-quarters. Tattle. Close dog ! — The time draws nigh, Jeremy ! Angelica will be veiled like a nun, and I must be hooded like a friar, ha, Jeremy ? Jer. Ay, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the quarry ? It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed, and she is so in love with him, she'll com- ply with any thing to please him. Poor lady ! I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a happy change she has made, between a madman and so accomplished a gentleman. Tattle. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy; you're a good friend to her, poor creature ! — I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of myself as compassion to her ! Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine woman, with thirty thousand pounds from throwing herself away. Tattle. So 'tis, faith ! — I might have saved several others in my time, but, egad, I could never find in my heart to marry any body before. [Crosses, r. h. Jer. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming, and meet you in half-a-quarter of an hour, with your dis- guise, at your lodgings. You must talk a little madly— she won't distinguish the tone of your voice ? LOVE FOR LOVE. 79 Tattle. No, no, let rae alone of a counterfeit — I'll be ready for you ! [Exit Jeremy, l. h. Enter Miss Prue, r. h. Miss P. O, Mr. Tattle, are you here ? I'm glad I have found you. I have been looking up and down for you like any thing, till I'm as tired as any thing in the world. Tattle. How shall I get rid of this foolish girl ? [Aside. Miss P. 0, I have pure news, I can tell you pure news — I must not marry the seaman now — my father says so ! Why won't you be my husband ? You say you love me ! and you won't be my husband. And I know you may be my husband now if you please. Tattle. O fie, miss ! Who told you so, child ? Miss P. Why, my father — I told him that you loved me. Tattle. iie, miss ! Why did you do so ? And who told you so, child ? Miss P. Who ? Why you did, did not you ? Tattle. That was yesterday, miss, that was a great while ago, child ! I have been asleep since, slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream of the matter. Miss P. O but I dreamt that it was so though ! Tattle. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come to contraries, child ! We must not love one another now. — Pshaw ! that would be a foolish thing indeed ! Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well as you did then ? Tattle. No, no, child, you would not have me. Miss P. No? Yes but I would though! Tattle. But I tell you, you would not ! You forget you are a woman and don't know your own mind ! 80 LOVE FOR LOVE. Miss P. But here's my father, and he knows my mind ! Enter Foresight, r. h. Fore. Oh, Mr. Tattle, — [ Crosses'] — your servant : — you are a close man, but methinks your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted with ! — Or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art ? — Hum, ha ! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a resemblance of her, and the girl is like me. Tattle. And so you would infer, that you and I are alike. What does the old prig mean ? — I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave him ! [J^'cfo.] — I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces. I have no more love for your daughter, than I have likeness of you : and I have a secret m my heart, which you would be glad to know, and shan't know, and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry for it after- wards. I'd have you to know, sir, that I am as knowing as the stars, and as secret as the night ! And I'm going to be married just now, yet did not know of it half an hour ago, and the lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. — There's a mystery for you ! I kqpw you love to untie difficulties. — Or if you can't solve this, stay here a quarter of an hour, and I'll" come and explain it to you ! [Exit, L. H. Miss P. O father, why will you let him go ? Won't you make him to be my husband ? Fore. Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend ? Alas ! he's mad, child, stark wild ! Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a husband then ? What, must I go to my nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old woman ? Indeed but I won't ! Fore. O fearful, I think the girl's influenced too ! Hus- sy, you shall have a rod ! Miss P. A fiddle of a rod ! I'll have a husband, and LOVE FOR LOVE. 81 if you won't get me one, I'll get one for myself! I'll marry our Robin, the butler ! I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me too, for he told me so ! Enter Scandal, Mrs. Foresight, and Nurse, r. 2 e. Fore, Did he so ? I'll dispatch him for it presently ! Rogue ! Oh, nurse, come hither ! Nurse. What is your worship's pleasure ? Fore. Here, take your young mistress, and lock her up presently, till further orders from me. Not a word, hussy — do what I bid you ! No reply ; away ! And bid Robin make ready to give an account of his plate and linen, d'ye hear ? Begone when I bid you ! Miss P. I don't care! Oh! Oh! [Cries.] [Exeunt Nurse and Miss Prue, r. h. Mrs. Fore. [r. c] What's the matter, husband? Fore, [l.] 'Tis not convenient to tell you now — Mr. Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses ! I fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad ! How does Valentine ? Scandal, [r.] O, I hope he will do well again. I have a message from him to your niece Angelica. Fore. I think she has not returned since she went abroad with Sir Sampson. [Enter Ben, l. h.] Here's Mr. Benjamin, he can tall us if his father be come home. Ben. [l.] Who ? father ? Ay, he's come home with a vengeance ! Mrs. Fore. Why, what's the matter ? Ben. Matter ! Why he's mad ! Fore, [a] Mercy on us ! I was afraid of this. Ben. And there's a handsome young woman, she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she's mad, too, I think ! Fore. O, my poor niece ! My poor niece ! Is she gone too ? Well, I shall run mad next ! Mrs. Fore. Well, but how mad ? how d'ye mean ? 5 82 LOVE FOR LOVE. Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess — I'll undertake to make a voyage to Antigua — no, I mayn't say so neither — but I'll sail as far as Leghorn, and back again, before you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit right. Mrs. Fore. Your experiment will take up a little too much time. Ben. Why, then I'll tell you : there's a new wedding upon the stocks, and they two are going to be married to rights. Scand. Who ? Ben. Why, father, and — the young woman ! I can't hit of her name. Scand. Angelica ! Ben. Ay, the same ! Mrs. Fore. Sir Sampson and Angelica ? Impossible ! Ben. That may be — but I'm sure it is as I tell you. Scand. 'Sdeath, it's a jest ! I can't believe it ! [Gets round to l. Ben. Look you, friend, it is nothing to me, whether you believe it or no ! What I say is true, d'ye see, they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which ! Fore. Well, but they are not mad, that is not lunatic ? Ben. I don't know what you may call madness, — but she's mad for a husband, and he's horn-mad, I think, or they'd never make a match together ! Here they come ! Enter Sir Sampson, Angelica, and Buckram, l. Buck- ram goes to table, r. Sir Samp. Where is this old soothsayer '? this uncle of mine elect ? Aha ! Old Foresight ! Uncle Foresight ! Wish me joy, Uncle Foresight, double joy, both as uncle and astrologer ; here's a conjunction that was not fore- told in all your ephemeres ! — the brightest star in the blue LOVE FOR LOVE. 83 firmament is shot from above, and so forth, and I'm lord of the ascendant! Odd, you're an old fellow, Foresight, Uncle I mean, a very old fellow, Uncle Foresight, and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding, faith and troth you shall ! Odd, we'll have the music of the spheres for thee, old Lilly, that we will, and thou shalt lead up a dance in via lactea ! Fore. I'm thunderstruck ! You are not married to my niece ? Sir Samp. Not absolutely married, Uncle, but very near it, within a kiss of the matter, as you see ! [Kisses Angelica. Angel. 'Tis very true, indeed, Uncle ; I hope you'll be my father and give me. Sir Samp. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes ! Body o' me, he shall be thy father, I'll make him thy father ! Scand. Death ! Where's Valentine ? \ExiU l. h. Mrs. Fore. This is so surprising — Sir Samp. How ! What does my Aunt say ? Sur- prising, Aunt ? Not at all, for a young couple to make match ! Ben. The young woman's a handsome young woman, I can't deny it : but father, if I might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her ! Sir Samp. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To your element, fish, be mute, fish, and to sea ! Rule your helm, sirrah, don't direct me ! Ben. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you mayn't keep your new vessel steady ! Sir Samp. Why, you impudent tarpaulin ! Sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father ? but I shall be even with you, I won't give you a groat ! Mr. Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel ? I would not so much 84 LOVE FOR LOVE. as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it, but by the North-east passage ! Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions ; there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt. Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak unstopt in your conscience ! They say a witch will sail in a sieve — but I believe the devil would not venture aboard your conscience ! and that's for you! [Sits on sofa, l. h. Sir Samp. Hold your tongue, sirrah ! — How now ? Who's here ? Miter Tattle [as monk'], and Mrs. Frail [as nun~\, l. h. they walk up and down the stage in front, k. illustrated, cloth, $1,25. Contents :— Ovid Bolus, Esq.— My First Appearance at the Bar— The Bench and l Bar— How the Times served the Virginians— Assault and Battery— Simon Suggs, . Esq— Squire A. and the Fritters— Jonathan and the Constable— Sharp Fii anciering— Ca Burton, Esq., of Kentucky— Justification after Verdict- An Affair of Honor— Hon. 8. Prentiss— The Bar of the Southwest— Hon. Francis Strother— Mr. T< and Mr. Gee— Sea Mag.— An Equitable Set-off— A Cool Rejoinder— A Hung Courl m el H ill, Esq.- Jo Stout, Esq., and Mark Sullivan— Mr. Onslow— Jo Heyfrom— Old Unci., ^ohn Olive— Exu Ining a Candidate for License. "A decidedly happy production for all who love fun and novelty. The author ol work like this need not stop to make apologies. There is a spice of re il w it throughout t book that renders it greatly attractive, while the subjects are of inter- i to every bo.ly. n even excepting the worthy members of the legal profession. To all we say. get and re ibis book/' — Daily Pennsyltanian % Phua.