■4089 
 B63 S7
 
 SPEN'CER'S BOSTON THEAIILli No. LX. 
 
 THE STEWAllD; 
 
 OK, 
 
 FASHION AND FEELING. 
 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 ALTERED AND ADAPTED FR03I TflOS. ROICROFT'S « DESERTED DArCflTER," 
 
 SAMUEL BEAZLEY, ESQ., 
 
 A.CTHOR or HOTS FOR HUSBAXDS, IS HE JEALOL'S ? LOTTEET 
 
 TICKET, KXIGHTS OF THE CROSS, BOARDIXG HOUSE, 
 
 SCAPEGRACE, ETC. 
 
 ORIGINAL CASTS, COSTUMES, A\D THE WUOLK OF THE 
 
 STAGE BUSINESS. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 
 
 128 Wasoixctox Street, (cokxer of Water.)
 
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 (2)
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 THE STEWARD; 
 
 OK, 
 
 FASHION AXD FEELING 
 
 ACT I. 
 ScEXE I. — A Room in the House of Mr. !Mordext. Two chairs. 
 
 Enter Mordent and Joxathax "NVixter, in anger, k. h. 
 
 Win. (r.) "Well, ziir, it doan't signify nothing argufying the topic. 
 Ize tell ye my mind. Discharge me, an you wull; I an't been more 
 thiui thirty years in the family, 'tis true, but that's long enow to gain 
 a settlement i' thirty parir^hcs, though not, mayhap, in one heart ; and 
 if ye wull be guilty of foul deeds 
 
 Mor. (c. Looking anxiously round.) AVill you speak in a lower 
 key r Recollect, Jonathan — recollect the consequence> of discovery. 
 
 Win. I tell ye what wull be the consequences, if I doan't discover 
 her Izc advertise for her i' the public papers — ay, I wull So, now, 
 mak' up your mind to ha' your name imprinted at full length, 
 
 Mor. (Terrified.) Print my name? 
 
 IVin. My name's not Winter, if I doan't. 
 
 Mor. Nay, nay, pray speak lower. Recollect, my wife is within 
 hearing. The girl is safe, no doubt. You know 1 did not — I could 
 not abandon her. 
 
 Win. I doan't know what great j^eople may mean by abandon ; 
 but ye Mad nae acknowledge her — wad nae see her ; and wad ye ha' 
 the heart now to expose her to (Ha/ding up his hands in terror.) 
 
 Mor. What r 
 
 Wi7i. Tramp the streets, or, what is as bad, to the arts and -wiles 
 of Old Item. 
 
 Mor. The arts of Item I What do ye mean r 
 
 ]Vin. What do I mane ? Why, I mane, that my mind misgi's mc, 
 and, if I sec clear, some o' his devildom schemes do hang on the lass, 
 that's all. 
 
 Mor. O, impossible ! impossible ! 
 
 Win. I tell ye, 'tis possible. And why should you desart her, 
 forsooth? Because she is what 'em calls a natural child: Now, in 
 my mind, to beget children, and then turn them adritt to beg, steal, 
 
 (3)
 
 4 THE BTliAVAUI) ; Olt, [aCT I. 
 
 or stan'e, makes a father a dral more unnatural than the child. I 
 ^oan't know what you may think, but that's my humble opinion. 
 
 Mif. Would you tell all the family ? expose me to my wife r 
 
 Win. Ize expose ye tull the \\hole world if I doan't find her; 
 though, the Lord knows, it woan't be much the better for her if I do ; 
 for it strikes me vary strongly ye are diced, and drabbcd, and squan- 
 dered, and mortgaged, till yc woan't scarce ha' change for a thin six- 
 pence ibr yoursel. 
 
 Mor. lliis is too much. You forget yoiu* station. 
 
 Win. Forget my station ! No, no, Maister Mordent ; 'tisn't Win- 
 ter that forgets his station, when he warns you against the devildoms, 
 as I call them, of that Belzebub steward. But tak' warning ; 1 ha' 
 toud ye long ago, and I tell ye again, he ain't a bit better nor a ravcal. 
 
 M)r. 'Tis false ! you mistake him, I tell j'ou. If the earth hold 
 an honest man, Mr. Item is lie. In all my difficulties, where have I 
 found assistance but from Item ? 
 
 Will. Yes, he pretends to borrow the cash for ye, which he lends 
 himsel' ; and your wealthy possessions will soon be all his own. 
 
 Mor. Nay, nay ; has he not ever dissuaded me, even in your pres- 
 ence, from the ruinous expedients which my necessities have obliged 
 me to adopt f 
 
 Win. Yes ; he ha' led ye to a precipice, which he bags ye woan't 
 leap, while, at the same time, he pushes you down headlong. 
 
 Mtr. I say 'tis false ! His truth, integrity, and zeal are unex- 
 ampled. (^Crosses to R. H.) 
 
 Win. Mercy on us ! ye're bewitched ! 
 
 Mor. Winter, you drive me mad I ^\^lat a den of misery is this 
 world ! swaiTning with on.e set of fiends, that raise the whirlwind of 
 the passions, and with another, that beset and tantalize the bewildered 
 wretch for having been overtaken by the storm ! 
 
 Win. Poor Joanna ! what can ha' become on her ? But, now, re- 
 member, if I doan't find her, Ize keep my word. 
 
 Mor. As to Joanna, wait patiently ; she's safe. I have done a 
 ^•iolence to my own feelings as a father, in depriving her of the right 
 of a child ; but have I not fifty times descended to explanation, and 
 shown you that I must not — cannot own her : 
 
 Win. Dare not, you mane. Ah, maister, maister ! yc bogle at 
 shadows. 
 
 Mir. Shadows I Winter, you know not what you say. The pub- 
 lic clamor and disgrace attached to the discoverA', the well-merited 
 reproaches of Lady Anne, for the long concealment of such a circum- 
 stance, the resentment of her imperious family, — are these shadows ? 
 
 Enter Mrs. Saiisnet, l. 
 
 Mrs. .v. What is it you are pleased to be talking, pray, about my 
 lady, Mr. Yorkshireman ! 
 
 Win. Troth, I ha'n't a wnvd to say against her, Mrs. Cockney. 
 
 Mrs. S. Against her! No, sir, my lady may defy hei worst ene- 
 mies, though there are folks ^ho ought to adore the very grovmd she 
 treads upon, that use her like a Turk.
 
 SOKN'E I.) FASHIUX AND KEELIXG. 6 
 
 Mil: How now, Sarsnc-t ? Did your mistress bid you behave with 
 impertinence ? 
 
 .1//-S. S. She, indeed ! Xo, no ; your example and commands have 
 made" her almost a« great a rake as yourself; yet she'd never respect 
 a.iy thin;; ol that kind, if I didn't put it into her head. She bid me 
 always behave with affability and decorum ; and so I would If I could. 
 But it would provoke an angel ! 
 
 Mir. And what is it your wisdom thinks so provoking r 
 
 Mrs. S. To sec a sweet lady, that was made to live always in a 
 family way, driven out lor to seek tor pleasures in routs and nonsense ; 
 and, when at home, to see her laugh, when she means to en,- ; then, 
 when some folks are in sight, pretend to smile, and be all assignation 
 and contentment, when, all the wlule, I luiow her poor heart is ready 
 to break. 
 
 Mir. (^Siftinff, k. c.) Then she complains to you? 
 
 Mrs. S. (l ) I said no such thing, sir. Xo, she complains to no 
 Christian soul, more's the shame ! I wish some folks had a little of 
 my spirit ; othei" folks, mayhap, mut find the difference. 
 
 IVin. (c.) Spirit! Ecod, you needn't tell us o' that, ^Irs. 
 Sarsnet. 
 
 Mrs. S. A poor, weak woman, who can only take her own part 
 by crj-ing and fainting. 
 
 H7/(. Crj-ing and fainting ! Come, come, Mrs. Sarsnet, there are 
 some poor, weak women that ha' got tongues and nails, you know. 
 
 Mm. S. Have they, Mr. Suapshort r Why, then, if I had you for 
 a husband, mayhap I would go for to let you see that I could use 
 them. 
 
 Whi. I dare for to say as how you would — the devil doubt you ! 
 
 Mrs. S. It's a shame. Mr. "Winter, for you to be getting into cor- 
 ners, and to be a whispering, and a peering, and a plotting, to my 
 lady's dishonor. 
 
 Win. {Aiiffril;/.) I plotting ! Come, now, you'd better hold your 
 tongue, Mrs. Sai'snet. 
 
 Mnr. Silence with you both. 
 
 Mrs. S. You ought to be quite ashamed of making yourself a skip- 
 jack go-between. 
 
 Will. A skipjack ! O, 'tis very well, Mrs. Sarsnet. You hear, 
 sir, the thanks I get. Ye hear I am a go-between ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, yes; we know that very well, Mr. Winter. 
 
 Win. But I'm not sic a go-between as ye, Mrs. Malapert, may 
 think me. Xo, no ; I ha' been a trustworthy caterer to the family ; 
 (^fo Mordent.) a slave to your and your lady's routs, and your sup- 
 perings, and your dinnerings ! Ye may ha' made me your purveyor, 
 but dora me if any mon ever yet made Jonathan Winter his j^ander ! 
 
 M'lr. Begone ! See if Mr. Item is returned. 
 
 Mrs. S, Ah, there's another ! 
 
 Win. Skipjack ! go-between, foi-sooth ! Ecod ! if yon war Mrs. 
 Winter, I'd teach yc to keep a civil tongue in vour teeth, ecod, I 
 would! {Exit,!..)' 
 
 M>r. {liiiintj.) Did your lady, I say, instruct you to behave with 
 this insolence ? 
 
 1 »
 
 6 THE STEVVARU; OR, [ACT I. 
 
 Mrs. S. You know very well, sir, that my lady is the most impru- 
 dent of wives, and would have been better than the best, if you had 
 but let her have had her own way. She sent me on a civil message, 
 and bid me speak with properiety ; and so, if speaking one's mind, and 
 telling the truth, be a fault, it's all my own. 
 
 Mor. I'll put an end to this. 
 
 Mrs. .S. O, to be sure ! You may tell my lady, and get me turned 
 away, if you please ; because I know very well, if you bid her, she 
 A\ill do it. 
 
 Mor. True ; she has ever met my most capricious wishes w^ith com- 
 pliance; nay, in the instance of fashionable extravagance, to which I 
 urged her from my foolish vanity, has outstripped them ; and I — 
 (Aside.) O, Prometheus and his vulture is no fable ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, yes ; I know she will turn me away ; but as it is all 
 for pvirc love of my lady, I'm sure the Earl of Oldcrest, her father, 
 will give me a situation. He knows, mayhap, more than you may go 
 for to think ; so does the viscount, her brother, too ; her cousin. Lady 
 Hilary, and her uncle, the bishop ; and every body is not obliged to be 
 so blind, and so good tempered, and so replying as my lady, never to 
 answer a word, indeed, as she never docs. 
 
 Mor. Ah! what is it they know? — (Aside.) Can Winter have 
 betrayed me ? 
 
 Mrs. S. That's more than I can say ; but they have all been here, 
 and my lady desires to speak with you. 
 
 Mor. Indeed ! Tell her I have no leisure — that I am particularly 
 engaged. — (Aside.) I dare not see her ! 
 
 Mrs. S. Ha ! I told my lady so before I came. 
 
 Mor. Begone ! Inform your lady that I will seek some other 
 opportvmity. — (Aside.) To what a state of wretchedness must that 
 heart bo reduced, which trembles at meeting the eye of her it loves ! 
 Cursed infatuation ! to what hast thou driven me ! (Exit, R.) 
 
 Mrs. S. I prognostified the answer ; a good-for-nothing chap ! I 
 know as well as any body what is becoming of a husband. He should 
 love his wife dearly, by day and by night ; he should wait upon her, 
 and give her her own way, and keep her from the cold and the wet, 
 and ])rovide her with every thing comfortable ; and if she happen to 
 be in an ill humor, should coax her, and bear a little snubbing 
 patiently. Humph ! the fellows ! what are they good for else, I 
 wonder ? (Exit, L.) 
 
 Scene II. — The Steieard's Room. Table and two chairs. 
 
 Item discovered sitting at tlie table examining accounts, and putting 
 away boolis. 
 
 Item. (Lnug]dng.) Ila ! ha ! ha ! 'tis well — very well ! Nothing 
 rejoices my heart so much as casting an accomit, when the balance is 
 in my own favor. One more deed signed, and the proud Mr. Mordent 
 is in my power ! Till then, I must still smooth my brow ; but once 
 sure, once certain, Item's turn will come, and all his years of anx-
 
 SCENE II.] J:\i3UI0N AND rEELI^^a. 7 
 
 ious lalx>r shall be repaid. And who can say it is not right that wis- 
 dom should thus thrive upon i'olly ? {Patting boiks on the fuble.) 
 You may lie thde ; you all bear fair I'aies, that maybe peru'^ed by 
 any one, and do i ot pr>'se;it one blot to make the most riy;id inspector 
 favU at poor Item. Hut you, {^pahiu;/ o..e ho >k in /li.i ho.'< ■iti,) who 
 contaii. tlie true account of all my honest and laborious gahis, lay next 
 my hiart, tliat beats with pleasure while it hugs you. (^Hidint/ the 
 book quick! I/.) Ah ! I hear somebody on the staia'S. 
 
 Enter Gkime, l. ii. 
 
 {Enierly.) My dear Grime! I am glad you are come. "Well, is the 
 deed prepared ? 
 
 Griiitu. Ready for sealing. Mr. ^lordent never examines what he 
 signs ; he trusts all to you. 
 
 Item. "We cannot be too safe. But this other afTair — this Joanna ? 
 What have yru done ? Have you taken her to Mrs Penfold s? 
 
 Grime. Really, Mr. Item, she is so fine a creature, that, when I 
 deceived her, I am not a true Christian if I did not feel such a twinge 
 here. {Touching his breast.) 
 
 Item, There ! Why, what have you got there more than any 
 ■where else? A tM-inge, indeed ! Curse your twinges! Is she safe? 
 Are you sure Winter suspects nothing ? 
 
 Grime. No, no ; I took care of that, and have made certain that 
 she left no clew to her retreat. 
 
 Item. {Joyfully.) That is well — that is well ! 'Twill do — 'twill 
 do ! And so she s a fine creature ? Item, you're a lucky dog ! My 
 scheme succeeds m every point. And I say. Grime, the girl's hand- 
 some — is she ? 
 
 Grime. Handsome ! I can't say I'm a judge of beauty. 
 
 Itt-m. Do her eyes sparkle, you old rogue ? 
 
 Grime. Why, they do twinlde, to be sure. 
 
 Item. Has she ro^cs, lilies, a fine neck, round arms, ? 
 
 Grime Yes, yes, roses in plenty. But I don't understand why 
 Mr. Mordent wishes to put her out of the way. 
 
 Item. 1 dare say you don't, but I do. He has various tormentors ; 
 his wife, or, rather, her proud relations, are among the chief ; and he 
 dreads they shoidd come to the knowledge of this secret. But his 
 strongest terror is, of being detected in having for years disowned a 
 child, who, if now produced, ■\^ould be his everliistuig disgrace. 
 
 Grime. Does he know that his daughter is now in the house of 
 Mrs. Penfold ? 
 
 Item. Not a word. His plan for the present is to settle lier in some 
 profession ; for this he will bestow a thousand pounds, which I am to 
 expend. 
 
 Grime. {Signijlcantly.') Or keep. 
 
 lirtn. {Aside.) Plague ! I have said too much ! 
 
 Grime. {Aside.) O ho ! a thousand pounds ! 
 
 Item. That — that, my dear Grime, would be a paltry motive. I 
 have others — others of more consequence, Grime. 
 
 Grime. {Aside, R.) I'll have my share !
 
 8 THE STEWARD ; OK, [ACT I. 
 
 Item, (c.) Mr. Mordent has bom all his life squandering, like a 
 blockhead, what I have been prudently pickinij up. 
 
 Grime. And pretty pickins^s you have had, Mr. Item. 
 
 Item. {Exult inghj.) I have him in the toils ! Interest accumu- 
 lating upon interest, and all in arrear ! I can foreclose u] on him when 
 I please for all, except the Berkshire estate ; and by this second mort- 
 gage, agreeably to the deed you have brought, equity of redemption 
 wiD be forfeited, and that, as well as the rest, ■\vill then be mine. 
 
 Grime. If he had but signed and scaled ! 
 
 Item. "Which he shall do this very day. 
 
 Grime. ITien, what have you to fear from Joanna ? 
 
 Item. Much — very much ; an action of recovery. 
 
 Grime. How so ? She has no title — she Ls illegitimate. 
 
 Item. No, no ; a la^^•ful daughter, bom in wedlock ; her mother 
 poor, but ^'irtuous, and died in childbed. Fearful it should injure his 
 second marriage with Lady Anne, he never produced the infant, but 
 told his man, AVinttr, it was a natural daughter, and by his intermission 
 secretly maintained, and had her educated ; and because this Winter 
 has got the fool's disease, pity — pity! {Laughing.^ Ha, ha, ha! 
 He loves the girl so much, that he has threatened to make Mordent 
 owTi his daughter. 
 
 Grime. To prevent which, he has agreed 
 
 Item. That I should place her out of Winter's reach. But he little 
 thinks I intend to make him own her myself. 
 
 Grime. You ! 
 
 It-m. Yes, I. To prevent her claims from aifecting my earnings, 
 I intend to vest the power of recovery in myself. 
 
 Grime. As how ? 
 
 Item. As how ■ By manying her, to be sure. 
 
 Grime. By marrying her ! You ! {Laughinq.') Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Item. Yg&, by mam-ing her ! — { Aside.) What the dl?^^l does the 
 fellow laugh at ? — ( To Gkime.) Yes, by marrying her, Grime — by 
 making her Mrs. Item. Ay, and I'll compel the proud Mr. Mordent, 
 and Lady Anne, and her proud family, to own, ay, and court Mr. Item, 
 as their relation, or Mr. Item will know the reason A\-hy. 
 
 Grime. Many her ! Well, well, 'tis a strange world ! But now, 
 Mr. Item, give me leave to say a word or two on my own affairs. 
 
 Item. "To be sure, my dear friend ; speak, and spare not. 
 
 Grime. There is a thousand pounds you mentioned. 
 
 Item. {Asifle.) Hem ! 
 
 Grime. Then the premium on this mortgage. In short, ^Ir. Item, 
 I do all your business — stand in your shoes. 
 
 Item. You are my right hand — the apple of my eye! — {Aside.) 
 A hv'pocritical rascal I 
 
 Grime. Ay, but 
 
 Item. The dearest friend I have on earth ! — {Aside.) I wish the 
 earth covered him ! 
 
 Grime. The division of profits 
 
 Item. Don't mention it. ^Vm I not your friend r I shall not live 
 forever. 
 
 Grime. No, nor I neither. Friendship
 
 SCENE m.] FASHION AXD FEELING. 9 
 
 Item. Don't think of it. You can't distrust me, the first and best 
 friend you ever had. 
 Grime. Fine words ! 
 Itt7n. (^Evasively.) Yonder is my nephew. — {CaUing.) Clement! 
 
 Enter Clement, r. 
 
 Cle. Sir ! 
 
 Item. Fetch the title deeds of the Berkshire estate from my good 
 friend, Mr. Grime. 
 
 Grime. Well, but 
 
 Item. Any time to-day. 
 
 Cle. Very well, sir. {Exity E.) 
 
 Grime. Once again, Mr. Item 
 
 Item. {Cal ing off, R.) And, Clement ! 
 
 Grime. I say, the division 
 
 It-'m. (Listening.) Hark! I hear Mr. Mordent. 
 
 Grime. (Aside.) It shall not pass off thus — I begin to know you. 
 
 It.tm. I would not have you seen just now, my dear Grime ! my 
 kind friend ! Some other opportunity. Pray oblige me. 
 
 Grime. Well, well ! — (^Aside.) The next time we meet, you shall 
 know more of my mind. (Exit, L.) 
 
 Lem. (Angrily.) The rascal begins to grow troublesome! — 
 (Speaking i.ff, loudly, L.) Take care of the step*, good Mr. Grime ! — 
 (III a sitbdued voice.) I wish he'd break his neck ! (Exit, L.) 
 
 Scene III. — The Dressing Room. 
 
 Enter Lady Anne and Mrs. Sarsnet, e. 
 
 Lady A. (l. c.) Well, well, Sarsnet, you have said enough 
 about refusing to come, though, for the life of me, I can't see why he 
 shoidd thus avoid me. 
 
 Mrs, i>. Ah, but I can guess, though. lie's ashamed — he's 
 ashamed of liis neglects, and of his uupatrimouial and disconjugal 
 behavior. 
 
 Lady A. Well, if any two people's foUies ever kept each other in 
 couiitenance, certainly these of my caro-^poso and myself ought to do 
 it ; and happy should that couple consider themselves, where the little 
 extravagances of the wife make her look with good temper on the 
 dissipation of her husband ; and, vice versa, when the consciousness 
 of the husband makes him find an apologj- for the innocent gayeties of 
 his wife i It is but a roundabout ^\■ay, after all, of coming at the 
 main point of matrimony — a quiet life. O Lord I 
 
 Mrs. S. A quiet life, indeed ! And do you thmk one would marry- 
 only for to have a quiet Ufe r Xo, indeed I I've no notion of a quiet 
 life, not I, my lady ; no more had your ladyship, till Mr Mordent 
 
 Lady A. Stop, stop, my good Sarsnet ! Kcmerober, it is a wife's 
 privilege to hear nobody abuse her husband but herself. 
 
 Mrs. S, Well, I won't abuse liim, though my tongue itches to call
 
 10 THE STEWARD ; OR, [ACT I. 
 
 him evcrj- bad name in the Roman calendar. But answer me one 
 question, piy lady : did you, on a cold, nipping night in Novemljer, 
 order me to attend in my camlet cloak and slippers, to meet Mr. Mor- 
 dent, only to lead a quiet life after all ? 
 
 Lady A. {Ilfsitaiinghj.) Why, I did expect something more, to 
 be sure ; but then, my good Sarsnet, those -were our young days of ro- 
 mance and anticipation ; then my mind was Avarni with the over- 
 charged description of love and marriage, which I had found in the 
 circulating library ; and I pictured to mjself a man at my feet for 
 whole ages, without considering we might grow weary in the joints, 
 from continuing in the same awkward posture, and that fashicn had 
 rendered conjugal attentions ridiculous. Heigh-ho ! 
 
 Mrs. S. There, now, I declare you scythe at the very recollection 
 of his drumstick duties, as you call them ! 
 
 Lacli/ A. Sigh ! — No, I didn't sigh, did I ? I'm sure I didn't 
 intend it. (Aside, ivith deep feeling, for a moment.^ At least, I should 
 have thought that my sighs have been stifled so long, that they had 
 forgotten the passage from my heart to my lips. ( Resuming her gay ti/.) 
 And why shoidd I sigh ? The leader of fashion — the envy of my 
 friends — riches in my hand, and pleasures at my command — uncon- 
 trolled mistress of my own actions, — what wish is there ungratilied ? 
 Am I like Lady Spendthriit — obliged to render up a quarterly ac- 
 count of every little expenditure on my person and pleasures, and 
 doomed to a monthly quarrel upon paltry pounds, shillings, and pence ■• 
 Or does my fate resemble that of \Lts. Homely, who rever dare stir a 
 foot from her own threshold without telling the how, the why, and the 
 ■wherefore, to her jealous-pated husband ? If my inclination led me 
 to the farthest quarter of the globe, would Mr. Mordent's veto prevent 
 my excursion r 
 
 Mrs. S. O, no, indeed ; the farther the better, I dare say. He's 
 always with his companions. 
 
 Lady A. And am I not always with mine ? If Mordent passes his 
 time out, do I not see company at home r If he takes his box of dice 
 at Brookes's, have I not my box at the Opera ? If the knock which 
 gains him admittance to his home does not thunder at the door till 
 three, do not I jjrevent the noise fiom disturbing my rest by not re- 
 turning till four r 
 
 Mrs. S. "Well, there is some pleasure in being even with a husband, 
 to be sure. But I don't know; I hate this yea and nay indiflierence ; 
 — I'd rather see you in a passion, and a quandary, and all that ; and 
 it would be better for you to meet every day, and quarrel evcrj- day, 
 and make it up again every day, like other I'cspectable married folks, 
 than never meet at all. 
 
 Lady A. By the by, did he give no reason for refusing to come 
 to me? 
 
 Mrs. S. Reason, forsooth ! Husbands never have no reason. But 
 they do say that he has lost a sum of money at play — at Pharo, or 
 Bumniat. I'm sure I wish Pharo had been drowned in the Red Sea, 
 along with his namesake. 
 
 . Lady A. His losses are nothing new : in gambling, as with matri- 
 mony, one must put up with Fortune in all the variety of her moods.
 
 SCKXE lU.] 1-ASIIIOX AND FEELIXG. 11 
 
 Mrs. S. Ay, but they do say that he is obhged to borrow at a mil- 
 lion per cent. 
 
 Lcu/i/ A. AVell, then he'll pay it, and it will be over. — But what 
 detained you so long on my message ? 
 
 J/;-j-. ^'. Ay, ma'am, that's what I'm going to unclose to you, for 
 I'm sure there be other bad doings ; and, seeing my mjister go into 
 ^Ir. Item's room, I clapped my ear to the keyhole, and there I heard a 
 whuz-buz. 
 
 Ladi/ A. What ! turn eavesdi'opper, Sarsnet : This was wrong. 
 
 Mrs. .S. O, I dare lor to say you think so ; I'll be bound lor it you 
 never put your eai- to your keyhole. But when some people Avon't let 
 other people know the rights of a thing, why, I don't sec, lor my part, 
 why a keyhole mayn't serve one's purpose to come at the truth. How- 
 ever, I could only catch up a word here and there ; and the first was 
 summat about a child. 
 
 Lid(/ A. (^Anxiowilij.) A child ! 
 
 Mrs. S. And a mother, my lady ; though, for the matter of that, 
 where there is a child, one's o'vm. natural penetrality might tell one 
 there was a mother. 
 
 Lady A. Well ? (^Anxiotisli/, yet repressing her curiosity.) But no 
 
 — don't tell me — I'll not hear a single word more, and command you 
 to be silent. 
 
 Mrs. S. O, very well, ma'am; I'll be silent — I won't tell you a 
 word about Mr. Item's lathering the child. {Crossing to R.) 
 
 L 'dy A. ( With hope and pleasure.) O, then it was Mr. Item, 
 after all : 
 
 Mrs. S. O, yes, ma'am, but that was all a flam ; for my master 
 immediately after exclaimed — {Lady Anne listening anxiously.) But 
 I beg your pardon — I won't utter a single word more, as your lady- 
 ship desired. 
 
 Lady A. {Pettishly.) What did your master exclaim ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Why, my lady, he called somebody a poor injurious girl, 
 and a prodigality of ■\\-it and beauty ; and then I heard somebody's 
 feet on the stairs, and was fain tor to scamper. 
 
 Lady A. {Aside.) A child ! an injured gii-1 ! and I not know of 
 it! How my heart beats ! — {Ripressing her feelings.) Why, one 
 would suppose that I w;is an ali'ectionate wife, instead of the fashiona- 
 ble and noncha/aiite Lady Anne Mordent ! {To Mrs. Saiisxet.) Non- 
 sense, child ! you have been deceived ! 
 
 Mrs. S. No, indeed ; I had all my seven senses and my eye teeth 
 about me ; for you know, my lady, I love you in my heart and soul ; 
 and it is all for your own good that I Avish to prove my master the 
 worst husband m the world, just to spm- you up to treating him as he 
 desei-ves. 
 
 Lady A. {After a pause.) No, no — I don't believe it ; upon that 
 point he wouldn't — he coukhi't deceive me. If it were so, he knows 
 my h.eart is not so ungenerous but that he might have trusted me. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, welJ, I'll rummage about, and find the particulars 
 
 — shan't I, my lady r 
 
 Lady A. Why, if you can by chance — but, mind, without paying 
 
 — no keyhole business ; and then, if you can just learn — merely —
 
 ' 12 THE STEWARD ; Oil, [aCT II. 
 
 merely — whether you haven't mistaken tlie whole matter. In short, 
 I am so convinced that you are wrong, that you had butter convince 
 yourself so ; for my own part, I am utterly careless about the matter. 
 {^Saddenly assumiiuj deej) feeling.) For 'tis so long since I have reposed 
 my happiness upon affection, that — (^Resuming her gaijety.) But, 
 Lord bicss me ! I'm becoming sentimental, and shall be too late for a 
 thousand calls I must make this morning. So, order the caiTiage to 
 the door, that — that — that — {aside, lier feelings ooerpowering her 
 as she is going out,) — that I may lose my recollection in a round of 
 unmeaning visits ! ( lUxit, n. ) 
 
 Mrs. S. She may say what she will, but I know very well she is 
 the most miscrablcst lady alive ; and I could tear his eyes out ! IIus- 
 Dand, indeed ! And so, because I listened to the fellow's love and 
 nonsense stuff, and took pity on him when he was going to hang or 
 drown himself, he miist think, as soon as he has got me safe, to be 
 made my lord and master ! I'd tell him another story ! Aly lord 
 and master, truly ! {Exit, ii.J 
 
 END OF ACT I. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — An Apartment at ^Irs. Peneold's. Two chairs. 
 
 Enter Lennox and Mrs. Penfold, b. h. 
 
 Len. But, my good Mrs. Penfold, do tell me who this divine crea- 
 ture is. 
 
 Mrs. P. That's more, Mr. Lennox, than I can tell. 
 
 Len. But how came she under your care ■ 
 
 Mrs. P. That's more than I dare tell ; and, I can assure you, I 
 shall get into a pretty scrape if it was known that you had even 
 seen her. 
 
 Len. But that, you know, you could not help, since I caught a 
 glimpse of her at the window ; what is more, I have often seen and 
 often followed her, but could never before make out where she lived. 
 Little did I think she was a protfgde of my good old nurse's. 
 
 Mrs. P. Yes, yes ; your good old nurse might have waited long 
 enough for a visit, if j'ou had not seen a young girl at her window. 
 
 Len. Well, well, I am soriy you won't let me see her; you are 
 right, I dare say ; but I am -wrong to neglect one to whom I owe so 
 much as to my good nurse Penfold ; and I shall therefore redeem my 
 character by visiting you much oftener than I have done. — {Aside.) 
 Now to write to Mordent that I have discovered my incognita, and 
 make him assist me in getting her into my power. He is under too 
 many obligations to me to refuse. So, farewell, Mrs. Penfold. 
 
 {Eu:it, L.) 
 
 Mrs. P. Ah, ah, Master Lennox, you're a sly one, though I nursed
 
 SCENE I.] FASHION- AND FEELING. 13 
 
 you myself ; and I fear my cousin Item -would stand little chance by 
 your side. But what can have come to my old avaricious relation, 
 who, till now, has ever made money his god r Here he commissions 
 me to praise him to her, and inspii-e her with favorable sentiments of 
 him. There's some mystery in all this, which I cannot fathom. {^Look- 
 ing off, E.) Ah, she comes ! 
 
 E)der Joanna, r. 
 
 Well, my sweet Joanna ! but why so melancholy ? I left you just 
 now all life and spirits. 
 
 Joa. (R. c.) True, madam ; nature has blessed me with spirits to 
 smile in the face of misfortune ; yet, sometimes, the bitter remembrance 
 that I am disowned by my father — that there is no hope that these 
 lips will ever meet a parent's kiss, or this head receive a parent's bless- 
 ing — will call a tear into my eye, and make my smilea appear traitors 
 to the feelings of my heart. 
 
 Mrs. P. (c.) Oomc, come; forget such unpleasant thoughts: 
 what should you care for one who never cai-ed for you ? 
 
 Joa. Ah ! you have never knowm the want of a parent's smile ; 
 you were never abandoned ; you knew your father. I never saw mine 
 — do not even know his name. I had a strange desire to see him once, 
 and I was denied. I am a high-spirited girl, but I would have luiell to 
 him — would have kissed his feet — and was refused. No matter. 
 (^Dashiiifj (he tears fh>rn her etjes.) I know it is ungrateful to meet 
 your kindness with tears ; so thus I will dash them otf, and try to re- 
 sume my smiles. 
 
 Mrs. P. That's right — that's right I Be cheerful, since you are 
 placed here by a person who is very capable of making you independ- 
 ent of this father, who deserts you. 
 
 Joa. There is only one way, madam, in which I wish to be inde- 
 pendent, and that is, by the exertion of the talents nature h;\s blessed 
 me with. It was the hope of this which induced me to fly from the 
 pittance my unkind father allowed me. The bread that was not sanc- 
 tioned by his affection I disdained to eat. But come, set me to work, 
 and you shall see that the lark shall not carol his morning song more 
 blithely than Joanna. {A knocking at the (hor, L.) Hark ! somebody 
 is coming ; I had better retu'c. 
 
 Mrs. P. Do so : should it be the kind gentleman who interests 
 himself in your fate, I will call you. There, go, and wipe away the 
 traces of your tears. 
 
 Joa. I will, ma'am ; you are very good, and I will do my best to 
 repay your goodness with smiles. (^Exit, k.) 
 
 Mrs! P. I'm glad she's gone, for it may be that rake. Mr. Lennox, 
 again ; and if cousin Item were to lind any body had seen her, he'd 
 stop the paltry stipend he allows me, and so often taimts me with. 
 (Jjooking off', L.) Ah, no — 'tis Mr. Item himself. 
 
 Enter Item, l. 
 
 "Well, cousin Item 
 
 Item. Well, Mrs. Penfold. But, since you receive the substantial 
 2
 
 14 THE STEWARD ; OR, [ACT H. 
 
 benefit of our relationship in the annuity which my kindness allows 
 vou, I mu!-t Leg you will dispense with the-nominal one of calling me 
 cousin — Mr. Itein, it you please. — {Asiciu.) I hope the vulgar wietch 
 hasn't told Joania she's niv cousin 1 
 
 Mrs. 1\ ^Vell, well, cousin — Mr. Item, I mean — I will mind for 
 the future. — {Aside.) A purse-proud lellow ! 
 
 Iiein. "Well, is Joanna secure r is she safe ? 
 
 Mrs. P. Quite ; and I have followed your directions in everj' par- 
 ticular. 
 
 Item. That's right. Then she has seen nobody, and is prepared to 
 receive me as her sole protector ? 
 
 Mrs. P. Protector ! — Lord bless me ! I hope you don't mean any 
 wickedness by tlie young creature. 
 
 Item. Wickedness ! eh ? [Lutiffhiiiff, and aside.) lie, he, he ! — 
 What docs the old f wl mean ■ — ( To Mrs. Pexfold.) No, no — her 
 legal protector. Have ye done as I bid you : 
 
 Mrs. P. O, yes ; beheve me, my tongue has not been silent in your 
 praises. 
 
 Item. Mrs. Penfold, you are a very sensible woman ; and if you 
 pursue my instructions implicitly in this business, the day that makes 
 Joaiiua Mrs. Item, I will pay you a quarter's annuity in advance. 
 
 Mrs. P. Mrs. Item ! — So, so ; I thought something was in the 
 wind, by your eyes sparkling so. 
 
 Item. Do they sparkle : — That's foitunate ! there may be use for 
 them. I say, we shan't make an unseemly couple, shall we r But 
 I'm impatient ; fetch the giii — I must lose no time. 
 
 Mrs. P. (Aside.) No, you can't afford it, indeed. 
 
 //trwj. What's that you say, Mrs Penfold ? 
 
 Mrs. P. That time is too precious to be thrown away, cousin Item. 
 
 {i-:xit, R.) 
 
 Item. "Mr. Item, if you please, Mrs. Penfold. Well, now Joanna 
 is in my power, and I am going to commit that which I have ever 
 denominated a sovereign folly — matrimony. But with me 'tis wis- 
 dom — 'tis a union of interests — the climax to my success. ( Laur/h- 
 ing.) Ha, ha ! 'Tisn't love and nonsense ; and yet the idea that 
 she's a fine girl has given me a sensation here, that — that — my other 
 sensations didn't kr.ow what to make of. But suppose she should refuse 
 me r Pshaw ! I shall make it her interest to accept me, and that's 
 enough ; besides, she does not know that she is an heiress. (Looking 
 off, K.) Ah, ah ! she's coming — a fine girl, indeed ! 
 
 Reenter Joanna, r. 
 
 Joa. {^Courtesy ing.) I attend your pleasure, sir. 
 
 Item. {Aside.) I'faith ! if I look long, I shall forget the Berk- 
 shire estate, and the action of recovery into the bargain. — (To Joanna.) 
 Madam — miss — I mean — I — I — that is — (Aside.) Lord bless 
 me ! what's the matter r Pooh ! pooh ! — Item, you are a fool ! — (To 
 Joanna.) You are welcome, my pretty lass. Mrs. Penfold has in- 
 formed you of the interest I take in your welfare — eh r and how good 
 I've been, and how good I intend to be to you — eh ?
 
 SCENE I.] FASHION AND FEELING. 15 
 
 Joa. Mrs. Penfold has informed me of your goodness, and I beg 
 you to accept the wannest thanks of a p^ratcful lieart. 
 
 Item. {Aside.) I'laith, she's charming ! 
 
 J:)a. But, sir, there Ls yet one favor that would outdo all the rest. 
 
 Item. A favor ! — "What is it, my sweet girl ? 
 
 Joa. Tell me who is my father — lead me to his feet — let me once 
 receive a parent's blessing ! 
 
 Item. To your father ! No, that is impossible : he has a wife who 
 would spurn you. 'Twas his unkindncss that first interested me in 
 your favor ; I tried to make him own and receive you ; and his harsh 
 expressions of the trouble and expense you were to him made me deter- 
 mine to render you independent of him. 
 
 Joa. Trouble ! expense ! — 8ir, you have indeed conferred an ob- 
 ligation on me. Mistaken parent ! it was not thy fortune, but thy 
 affections, Joaima coveted ! But your goodness mentioned independ- 
 ence : there is but one way to ^^in it, — let me work — I will labor 
 cheerfully. , 
 
 Item. Work ! labor ! No, no — such hands as those were never 
 intended to work ; such eyes as those are tit lor other purposes than iol- 
 lowing a needle through cambric muslin. Work, indeed ! {Latijh- 
 iiig.) Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Joa. {Asiile.) What can he mean r Surely, the old gentleman is 
 not in love with me ! 
 
 Item. Come, my pretty Joanna, let us sit down a little, and talk 
 over your affairs. {They sit.) I have a great deal to say to you, 
 though, i' faith ! when I look in thy pretty eyes, it seems all to run 
 out of my head. 
 
 Joa. {With simplicity.) You had better look the other way, 
 then, sir. 
 
 Item. But I can't — I can't ; they are the loadstone, and my heart 
 is the needle. I dare swear, now, you have had plenty of lovers. 
 
 Joa. Lovers, sir ! 
 
 Item. Ay, young whipper-snappers, that did not know then- own 
 minds. But be careful of them ; they don't know what they're at — 
 there's no dependence upon them ; no, no ; you must look to those 
 who are a little older, who are grown steady, and know what they are 
 about ; a man about my age, for instance. 
 
 Joa. About your age, sir ! 
 
 Item. Ay, my pretty Joanna. Do you think you could love me ? 
 
 Joa. I could love every one who was kind to me. 
 
 Item. Every one ! — Lord bless me ! that would not do at all. 
 Ay, but do you thmk you could love me r answer me that. 
 
 Joa. If you were kind to me, yes. 
 
 Item. There's a good girl. 
 
 Joa. I could love you as a father. 
 
 Item. {Starting.) A father! — Pshaw I I don't mean that. A 
 father, mdeed ! But tell me now, Joanna, did you ever love any body 
 in any other way r 
 
 Joa. O, ye-5, one person I love very much. 
 
 Item. One ! — {Aside.) I begin to be alarmed. — {To Joaxxa.) 
 ! a lady, I suppose.
 
 16 THE STEWARD ; OR, [ACT H. 
 
 Joa. No — a man. 
 
 hem. A man ! 
 
 Joa. As kind-hearted a one as nature ever formed. 
 
 Item. And wlio was he, pray : How did you become acquainted 
 with him ? I understood you had never seen any body. "What was 
 his name ? 
 
 Joa. Old Mr. Winter. 
 
 Item. Winter! — {Aside, laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! — There's not 
 much fear of him. I began to be afraid, though. — {To Joaxxa.) And 
 I dare say the old lady you lived with used to wain you against the 
 arts of us men — used to say we were gay deceivers, and meant noth- 
 ing but wickedness, eh r and all that, eh ? 
 
 Joa. No, sir, I do not recollect ever being warned, except against 
 the arts of one man, who, I was told, would ruin me if he could. 
 
 Item. And A\ho was he, my pretty Joanna r I have no doubt your 
 warning was a right one. AVho was this one man who would have 
 ruined you • A wicked dog, I'll 'oe bound. 
 
 Joa. It was one Mr. Item. 
 
 Item. ( Starling from her.) I — I — I — Item ! 
 
 Joa. I understand he has been the bane of my poor father, who 
 has, for years, been deceived by him, till he has nearly robbed him of 
 all his wealth. I heard, too, he had designs upon me ; but you will 
 protect me fiom him. 
 
 Item. And who told you this ? 
 
 Joa. Winter — the faithful Winter. 
 
 Item. (Aside.) Curse him ! 
 
 Joa. You seem agitated. Surely, under your protection, I shall be 
 safe from this bad man ! 
 
 Item. Safe ! pooh, pooh ! — (Aside.) He shall trot back to the 
 West Riding as barefoot as he came for this ! (To Joaxxa.) You 
 mustn't believe this Winter — he's a fool ; he has deceived you ; 'tis 
 he himself that would hurt you — (Aside.) I'll make the Yorkshire 
 rascal pay for this ! — (To Joaxxa.) Don't believe him, Joanna — you 
 mustn't believe him. — (Aside.) I am too much in a passion to do any 
 good with her now. — (To Joaxxa.) There, my Joanna, go to your 
 room ; I will do every thing that is best for 3'ou. 
 
 Joa. Thank ye, sir. — (Aside.) This is very sti-ange — I do not 
 understand it ; but the more I look at and hear of this old gentleman, 
 the less I like him. (Exit, n.) 
 
 Item. Warned against me, and by Winter, too ! But I won't 
 be circumvented ; Mi-s. Penfold shall remove this bad impression. Her 
 beauty has given a double incentive to interest ; and force or cunning 
 shall accomplish all my schemes. (Going — returns.) No, no : pru- 
 dence, prudence ! (Exit, i..) 
 
 ScEXE II. — An Anti-Chamber in the House ofMoRDEXT. Two chairs. 
 
 Enter Moedext and Chetekil, r. h. 
 Che, (c.) Grumble no more, guardy ; have done with prognosti-
 
 SCENE 11.] FASHION AXD FEELING. 17 
 
 eating e^'il : 'tis all in vain. Your gloomy reign is ended : fun, frolic, 
 dash, and adventure begin. I am at liberty I 
 
 Mjr. (l. c. ) Yes, to play the tool I 
 
 Che. I'm free — I'm alive — I'm beginning to exist ! 
 
 Mor. Like a wTetch at the stake, when the Hames lirst reach him ! 
 
 Che. The whole world is before me ; its pleasures are spread out, 
 and I long to fall on ; the golden apples of delight hang inviting me 
 to pluck, eat, and 
 
 Mar. Be poisoned ! 
 
 Che. {Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Mor. As your guardian, I 
 
 Che. Curse guardianship ! I have been guarded too long ! 
 
 Mor. You are a lunatic ! 
 
 Che. No, I am just come to my senses ; for I am just come to my 
 estate, high health, high spirits, eight thousand a year, and one and 
 twenty ! 
 
 M>r. Youth ! riches ! Poor idiot ! Health, too ? T^Tiat is man 
 but a walking hospital ? You, boy, you — little as you suspect it — 
 include within yourself a whole pharmacopa?ia of malady and 
 mischief. 
 
 Che. Zounds ! He'll persuade me presently I am Pandora's box ! 
 
 Mor. So you are. 
 
 Che. Why, guardy, you are mad ! 
 
 Mor. True, or I should take the shortest way to get rid of misery, 
 and instantly go hang myself, and quit a world where wTctchedness 
 walks at noonday, where pleasure leads but to pain, and man lives 
 but to prey upon his fellow ! 
 
 Che. ^Vhat a picture I 
 
 Mor. Equal it in accuracy, if you can. 
 
 Che. Why, I am but a young artist ; however, I can dash my brush 
 at the canvas as daringly as you have dene. So what think you 
 {rapt uro list ij) of mirth, soags, and smiles ? youth, beauty, and kisses ? 
 friendship, liberty, and love, with a large, capacious soul of benev- 
 olence that can soothe the afflicted, succor the {xwr, he;d the sick, in- 
 struct the ignorant, honor the wise, reform the bad, adore the good, 
 and hug genius and virtue to the heart ? {Crossing to i..) 
 
 Mor. Every feature false ! 
 
 Che. Cm-se me ! but I say the likeness is, at least, as good as 
 yours ; and I am sure the coloring is intinitely more delightful. 
 
 Enter Jonathan Winter, ii. 
 
 Tr(/i. Ize ganging aboot the business of the poor lass; so if )e 
 happen to want me, Ize be back in a blink. 
 
 Mor. Go ^^here you will, so that you do not tonnent me. 
 
 Che. Ha ! old Winter, my boy ! Don't you know that I'm of 
 age ■ We'll make your old heart warm in spite of the frost on your 
 brow. We'll have all spring, summer, and sunshine. Won't \\g, old 
 Winter : Why do you Iook so glum, old Honesty ? 
 
 Win. Old Honesty ! Ecod ! Ye mistake the matter, young gen- 
 tleman : I am an old go-between.
 
 18 XHii srLw.viiK ; ou, [act u. 
 
 Che. {Laitghiixj.) Ila, ha, ha I 
 
 Win. O, you may laugh ! but it's van-a true, and I begin to feel 
 it. A helpless child has been cast iipo' the wide, wide warld by a 
 hairtless laythcr, and I am a part o' tlie cause. 
 
 Mor. IIo\v dare ye, sir 
 
 Clie. A child deserted by the father ! 
 
 Win. Ay, ye may ■w^ell show the white of your eyes ; but it's 
 true, for all that. 
 
 Che. Is he poor ? Is he jienniless ? 
 
 Win. Ecod ! you've pratty nearly hit the mark, if Jonathan 
 Winter baint cursedly mistaken. 
 
 Che. Bring the child to me — bring it to me, old rueful : I'll 
 be its father. I never fathered a child in my life — I long to begin. 
 
 Win. AVhy, ye seem to ha' ahttle more human affection than some 
 faythers. 
 
 Mor. Begone ! Leave us. Winter, as you value my favor ! 
 
 Win. Yes ; I'll go where I towed ye ; and if I doan't hear of her, 
 ye'ze hear o' me: that's all. [Exit, L.j 
 
 Che. Bring me the baby. Winter. Zounds ! how it would delight 
 me to father all the fatherless cliildren in the world ! Poor little 
 dears ! I should have a plentiful brood. And so, guardian, I want 
 money. 
 
 Mor. What ! To purchase destrviction wholesale ? 
 
 CAe. I have five hundred good, wicked, spirited, famous projects on 
 hand. You have seventeen thousand pounds of mine, hard cash — 
 I want it. 
 
 Mor. Seventeen thousand plagues ! 
 
 Che. Eveiy farthing. 
 
 Mor. Your money, sir, is locked up in mortgages. 
 
 Che. Locked up ! O, damn me ! I'll unlock it ! I'll send honest 
 Grime to ye : he carries a master key. 
 
 Mor. Have you no regard to my convenience ? 
 
 Che. I'll pay the premium ; and if you want security, you may 
 have mine. I must have money : 'tis the source of frolic, pleasure, 
 and notoriety. The world must see me, hear of me, talk of me ! 
 I'll be a patron, and a subscriber, and a collector, and an amateur, and 
 a connoisseur, and a dilettante ! I'll hunt, I'll race, I'll dice, I'll grub, 
 plant, plan, and improve ! I'll buy a stud, sell a forest, build a palace, 
 and pull down a church ! That's the way to make use of eight 
 thousand a year, my moody guardian! (^Exit, l.) 
 
 M:)r, (Cai/in;/.) Mr. Cheveril ! He is flown! Why, ay, with 
 spirits equally wild, wanton, and ignorant of evil, I began my career. 
 I have now lived long enough to discover that universal nature is uni- 
 versal agony. O, tliis rejected Joanna ! — miserable girl ! Well, am 
 not I miserable too ? Who is not ? The dangers to which she may 
 be exposed ! the cruelty of utterly abandoning her ! Never shall I 
 again be at peace with myself! 
 
 Lnrly A. ( Without, ii.) Where is your master? 
 
 Mir. Ilark ! my wife ! I must away. I can't endure to see her, 
 while I feel that the next moment may plunge her in the pit I have 
 dug for her ! ' {Exit, L.)
 
 SCSNE n.j FASHION AXD FEELING. 19 
 
 Enter Lady Anne, r. 
 
 Lad'j A. ilr. Mordent ! So, so, he a^airi avoids me ! Upon my 
 word, this moody lord ol' mine is abominably provoking ! {Angrily.) 
 But no matter. lie has taught me his own indifference, (feelingly,) 
 at least he shall teach it me ; and I care not if we never have another 
 conjugal tete-a-tete as long as we live. Yet why will he not let me 
 inquire into the truths of reports, which one would supjXJse mutt con- 
 cern his peace as well as my own : And why, I may ask myself, why 
 and wherefore till doomsday without getting any answer, or being 
 able to conjecture the truth ■ So I may as well pursue my own career 
 of pleasure, and still drown all the recollection of my better feehng 
 and my early anticipating in the bustle and gayety of society. O 
 Mordent ! Mordent ! ■why have you driven me to such resources : 
 
 Mrs. a. ( Without, l.) I tell you I can't stay. 
 
 Lady A. The stories, too, ^ith ^\■llich this kind but officious ."rea- 
 ture torments me, and which her length of service gives her the priv- 
 ilege of telling me ! 
 
 Etiter Mrs. Sarsnet, hastily, l. 
 
 Mrs. S. I've got it, my lady, — I've got it ! 
 
 Lndy A. And what, pray, have you got now ? Some new report, 
 or merely a repetition oC the old one ? i, 
 
 Mrs. ^'. AN'hy, I'll tell your ladyship. A queer quandary kind of 
 person brought my master a letter, ^\■hich I knew was auspicious. So, 
 ma'am, I watched him when he went for to read it, and then he put 
 it in his coat pocket, ma'am. So my master's coat was all powder — 
 over here, {signifcantly.) How he came by it, I don't know. 
 
 Lady A. Well, well ; don't tease me about it ! What have I to 
 do ^^•ith your master's letters ? 
 
 Mrs, N. So, my lady, he took it off, and ordered one of the fellows 
 to give it a brush ; so, making a pretence, I was close at his heels 
 
 Lady A. At whose heels ? 
 
 Mrs. S. The footman's, my lady. So, while he was brushing, he 
 had a wranglatiou \\ith the cook, and turned about to gabble foot- 
 man's gibberish with she. So I, having a hawk's eye, twirled my 
 hand behind me — so, and felt in the pocket ; and there I found this 
 written letter, M-hich I slyly slipped under my apron. So 
 
 Lady A. Take a letter out of your master's pocket ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, my lady. And so, being broke open, I read the con- 
 tents, and found that it was from Mr. Lennox, ma'am, and all about 
 master and a young giii. O ! that I^Ir. Lennox leads my master into 
 all kinds of mischief! 
 
 Lady A. A letter ! A confirmation, perhaps — I shall betray my- 
 self. Give it me. Sarsnet, you have done wrong. To have robbed 
 your master of his money would have been less culpable than to s-tcal 
 from him the knowledge of transactions which he does not wish to 
 avow. 
 
 Mn. .S. {^Wltiiitpering, and with tokens of great ajfeclion.) It's 
 "very hard, because I can't bear your lady — ladyship's ill usage, and
 
 20 THE STEWAllD ; Oil, [ACT II. 
 
 — and — and always feel as if my very stays -were a-biirsting, to see 
 your — your treatment, time after tune — that 1 should get myself 
 ill — ill — ill will, because I love you Irom the very bottom oi my 
 heart ! 
 
 Lady A. You have indulged yourself in these liljertics too often ; 
 you presume on the length of your seri'ice, and upon the familiarities 
 I liave so long found an apology for in your attachment; but I'll suf- 
 fer it no longer. 
 
 Mrs. a \er\ — very -well, my lady. I'll be deaf, and dumb, and 
 blind ; and when I see you treated worser than a Belsavagc, I'll burst 
 twenty laces a day before I'll speak a word ! 
 
 Lailij A. {IVu/i (/refit kmilness ) What you have done has been 
 affectionately meant ; and I am sorry to have given you pain. 
 
 jtlrs. S. [^('iilrhing aiul kisoiiig her luind.) You are the tenderest 
 and best of ladies ; and I know who is an unfeeling brute ! 
 
 Laihj A. 1 must rid myself of the letter as fast as I can, lest the 
 temptation should be too great, and 1 verity the character of my sex, 
 excite the anger of my Blue Beard, and become, like Fatima, the 
 victim of my curiosity. '^ExU, k.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Blue Beard, indeed ! 
 
 Enter Lenxox and Cheveiiil, l. 
 
 Len. Pray, Mrs. Sarsnct, is Mr. Mordent within ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Indeed, sir, I don't know. {Eu-it, miiilerincf, r.) 
 
 Len. (c.) I'll bet you a thousand, Cheveril, your charmer does 
 not equal the girl I have this moment Iclt. 
 
 Che. (T,. c.) Done, for ten thousand ! 
 
 L(ot. You would lose. 
 
 Che. You never beheld so peerless a beauty. 
 
 Le)i. How did you become acquainted with her ? 
 
 Che. A^''e are not yet acquainted, {^ighiny ,) and I begin to fear 
 ■we never shall be ! 
 
 Len. O ! O ! 
 
 Che. I met her three times in the Green Park. The first moment 
 I gazed at her with adnriration ; as soon as she was gone by 
 
 Len. Gone by ? 
 
 Che. No, she's not gone by ; but good manners, you know, would 
 not let me stare her in the face. Such a shape ! such elegance ! The 
 next time I determined to speak to her, and approached as resolutely 
 as Hcrculus to the hydra. 
 
 Len. A good simile for a beauty ! 
 
 Che. I had studied a speech ; but, somehow-, there was such a 
 sweet severity in her looks, I — I had not the power to utter a ^Vord. 
 
 Len. Courageous lover ! 
 
 She. The third time, however, it being a little darker, — for it was 
 alwaj'S in the eveiiing, — I was more undaunted ; so, fully determined to 
 tluow myself at her feet and declare my passion, up I marched ; but, 
 as the devil would have it, slie turned and looked me full in the iace; 
 and — and virt^ie — and — and modesty, ever so awful — that my 
 heart sunk w.thin me. 
 
 Len. {^Laughing.) Ha, ha, ha !
 
 SCENE n.] FASHION AND FEELING. 21 
 
 Che. It is now a fortnight since ; and though I have walked the 
 Green Park morning, noon, and night, every day, I could never once 
 again set eyes on her. Intolerable booby that I was, to lose three such 
 precious opportunities 
 
 Lt-n. Of making love to a lady's maid ! 
 
 Che. A lady's maid ! Damn it, sir ! she's no maid ! she's the lady 
 herself, I'll be sworn ! O lor one momentary glance that might give 
 vent to the passion that devours me ! 
 
 Li'ii. {Lni/hiiig.^ Ha. ha, ha ! 
 
 Che. What ! You think I dare not ? 
 
 Leu. {Lui(jhin().) Ha, ha, ha ! Look you, Cheveril, I know 
 you. A lighted match and the mouth of cannon could not cow you 
 like the appioach of a petticoat. 
 
 Che. I — afraid of women ! Damme ! I don't understand hav- 
 ing my character attacked and traduced ! Make a blaster Jackey of 
 me ? I am a wicked one ! 
 
 Leu. {Lnuihiii'i.) lia, ha ! Wicked! You are as conscientious 
 as a dnmken Methodist, or as a dying miser ! Y^ou are not only 
 afraid of the women, but of the sin ! 
 
 Che. Why, if No, damme ! 'tis r.ot true ! I have no more 
 
 conscience than youl•^elf. 
 
 Lea. Me ! I have a deal of conscience. Pleasure, I own, can 
 tempt me ; but I make no pretensions, like you, to sin for the sake of 
 reputation. 
 
 Che. Sir, I make no such pi-ctension. I am, indeed, resolved to 
 be a lellow of enterprise, pith, and soul ; but not by vile, rascally 
 methods. I'll love all the women — that's but natural; and, per- 
 haps, trick some of the men — that's all fair ; but not seduce wives, 
 ruin daughters, and murder husbands and fathers. No, no ; I don't 
 go so lar as that — no : if I cannot be wicked without being criminal, 
 why, I'll live and die an houost, dull dog, and have all mylbrtune to 
 found a lying-in hospital, for the benefit of the rising generation ! 
 
 (^Exeunt, L.) 
 Enter Mordent, l. s. e. 
 
 Mor. {Searchincj his pockets.) Curse the letter ! 'tis gone ! Care- 
 less booby ! A thousand to one but it ialls into the hands of I^ady 
 Anne ; and the officious impertinence of her Avaiting woman will at- 
 tribute the gallantry Lennox writes about to me. 
 
 Enter L.ADY Anne, r. 
 
 Ah ! she's hci-e ! {Retiring.) I dare not be with her alone — I dare 
 not confess my ruin to her, or stop the extravagant habits I have my- 
 self urged her to adopt. 
 
 La(>ij A. Mr. Mordent ! !Mr. Mordent ! {Catching hold of his 
 arm.) Nny, nay, you shall give me a few moments, now I have so 
 fairly caught you. Why, one would swear that our matrimonial life 
 at home was a game of hide and seek, (fce.'ing'i/,) only that all the 
 seeking is on my side. And one would really suppose, in our wandcr- 
 ing.s abroad, that we studied the map of Londoa only to go different 
 ways.
 
 22 THE STEWARD ; OR, [aCT II. 
 
 Mor. Mirth, madam, is not in unison with my present feelings. 
 Ladi/ A. Nay, nay, was there ever a time that Mordent could not 
 make me what he pleased r He found me a simple-hearted maiden 
 at eighteen, and made me a fond, affectionate wife at twenty. He 
 thought my manners too rustic, my taste too domestic, my pursuits 
 too confined ; he enlarged my sphere of action, remodelled my dispo- 
 sition, taught me to seek society, and made the moral Lady Anne 
 Oldcrest the dashing and fashionable Lady Anne Mordent. Is there 
 any thing else I can do to oblige him ? You were displeased that I 
 never went to parties. Now, there is not one to which Lady Anne 
 ilordent's name does not give distinction in the fashionable comer of 
 the Morning Post. You laughed at my disinclination for play. I 
 have coiTected my error, and can display as proper a spirit at the whist 
 table as the highest titled of my competitors. 
 
 Mor. (Aside.) Distraction ! she hastens my ruin by complj'ing 
 with my foolish wishes ! — ( To Lady Axxe.) Jladam, if you sought 
 an interview only for the purpose 
 
 Lndy A. Why, if I did not seek it for the purpose, I am afraid 
 you would prevent its happening by accident. So now, my good 
 moody lord, be civil, and not captious, or I'll bring you on your 
 knees in a moment. (Showing a letter, playfully.) Look at this, 
 traitor ! 
 
 Mor. Ah ! Lennox's letter, which you have doubtless read, and 
 attributed the contents to me, and come to upbraid me with your 
 suspicions ! 
 
 Lady A. {Seriously and proudly.) You do me wrong. It fell 
 into my hands by the reprehensible but unauthorized curiosity of my 
 woman. I have flown to you -v^-ith it unopened, as she gave it me. 
 That I intended to have teased you a little maliciously about it, I con- 
 fess. Your reproaching me seriously with the baseness of having read 
 it, and with an intention to upbraid and suspect you, has diiven this 
 childish idea from my wishes. There, sir, is your letter, unread by 
 me. However I may have lost your affections, I will stUl preserve 
 your respect. 
 
 Mor. Affections I — They are dead — swallowed up in the same 
 vortex which has hurried me to perdition ! Why do ye not reproach 
 me with neglect ? 
 
 Lady A. ( With feeling.) Because I am proud enough to bear it 
 with indifference. But, come, confide once more in me. 
 
 Mi>r. (Aside.) Confide in her ! tell her how poor I have made 
 her, and repose upon that heart which I shall render ■^^Tetched ! — (To 
 Lady Anxe.) N"o, no, it is impossible: I know and feel that your 
 heart is reproaching me. though your lip may be silent. That silence 
 mj' imagination, perhaps jamidiced, construes into insult : but beware, 
 Lady Anne, how you expose me to your imperious family ! 
 
 Lady A. I do not — indeed I do not. 
 
 Mor. AMiy, then, are these family consultations r 
 
 Lady A. They are contrary to my wish. 
 
 Mor. A separation, I liear, is the subject of them ; and, perhaps, 
 it is the best thing for both of us. 
 
 Lady A. (Piqued.) O, I have no doubt you think so; though.
 
 SCENE n.] FASHION AND lEELIXG. 23 
 
 upon my word, no formal process of law can occasion a much greater 
 separation than we enjoy — at present. 
 
 Mor. What would you say if I declared my fortune to be lost, 
 squandered, wrecked ? 
 
 Lady A. Why, perhaps, in such a case, I might exclaim, that as I 
 had helped to squander it, I might help to redeem it ; and that ^lor- 
 dent has it still in his power to make me an alfectionate wife in pov- 
 erty, as he has made me a fashionable one in his affluence. {Play- 
 fully-) But I see you are only tr\-ing me, though I vow, lor the 
 moment, you made me feel seriously, and that I know to be quite out of 
 your code for the conduct of the wife of the fashionable Mr. Mord.^nt. 
 So, to redeem my character, and not lose my place in the Morning 
 Post, I am off for my evening round of visits. I dine at Lady Lin- 
 ger's, drop in for Trumazzani's Aria at the Opera, play for half an 
 hour at Lady Scarecrow's, squeeze through the Marchioness of Stifle- 
 friend's rout, dance a quadrille at Mrs Somerset's, and sup at Lady 
 AUnight's. So, my good moody lord, you now know {siiihinc/) ex- 
 actly where you may go without the unfashionable risk of encoun- 
 tering your A\-ife. {Exit, r.) 
 
 Mor'. Hated — hated vice ! what an angel hast thou lost me ! 
 
 Enter Lenxox, l. 
 
 Len. Have you got my letter ? 
 
 Mor. O, yes, yes — I've got it ; and my wife has had it. 
 
 Len. Your wife ■ 
 
 Mor. Yes, yes ; but talk not of her — to think of her is distrac- 
 tion. What is it you want r 
 
 Len. I have discovered mv charmer, and I want vovir assistance 
 to 
 
 Mor. Destroy her ! is it not so r Wlien destruction is your ob- 
 ject, you think, perhaps, you cannot apply to a better source. 
 
 Len. Destroy her I No ; to make her happy : if I can at all 
 judge fi-om appearances, she is not so at present. I cannot get an in- 
 terview with her ; she is at my old nurse Penfold's, whom I shrewdly 
 suspect to be keeping her tor some sly purpose of her own. But come. 
 Mordent, where' s the alacrity you promised, should I ever need your 
 assistance ■ Do ye so soon forget 
 
 Mor. That I am in your debt r O, no, no ! You say she is lovely 
 — perhaps innocent. 
 
 Len. For the first I answer ; upon the latter score, one can never 
 be certain. But come, man, shake off your scruples ; you know me 
 too well to suppose I should use any girl ill ; — so your advice and 
 assistance I must have. 
 
 Enter Joxathax Wintek, in great agitation, L. 
 
 Win. She is gone ! she's gone ! she is lost forever ! 
 Mor. {Aside to Winter.) How now, herald of maUce and mischief ? 
 Win. O, ye may talk and scold, but I can't forget her. Mayhap 
 I shall never set eyes on her pratty face again. 
 Mor. Peace, I say !
 
 34 THE STEWARD ; OH, [ACT III. 
 
 IVin, Peace ! How can you expect it r how can ye dare to hope 
 for it ? O, ye may call mc names, an' you wull ; Ize spake mj' mind. 
 A fayther tuin his back on his child ! But she left a message for ye. 
 
 JiJjr. (Anxiously.) What message ? 
 
 Win. Tell him, if he woan't gie his child ane kiss, ane little bless- 
 ing, that child will wark, starve, and die, ere she wull live Uke a 
 parish pauper on scraps and alms ; tell him she has a prideful spirit, 
 that doan't care to beg what she can't win ; and if he scorn to ac- 
 knowledge his daughter, why, she scorns to accept his charity. That's 
 her message to ye. {G >bii, but returns.) But I'll set the ■whole town 
 ater her but what I'll find her ; and I'd make you look ater her your- 
 sen, but that ye doau't knoM' the face of your own child. 
 
 Len. How ? 
 
 Win. It be true as you stands there, Maister Lennox : he never 
 saw the face o' her sin' she were a foot long. But 'tis all very well ; 
 nothing comes more surely to light than that which is long hidden ; 
 an ill life, an ill end. {Exit, R.) 
 
 Mar. "Wolves, tigers, seijients, were first created, and then man ! 
 
 Len. You are truly a high fellow. Mordent ; you spend your for- 
 tune, deceive your wile, and disown your child ! That is, you inflict 
 misery, and then tell us all you are miserable. 
 
 Mor. I act and am acted upon : the precept and the proof go 
 together. 
 
 Xe«. You are incorrigible. But come, we must about this business ; 
 my heart is deeply interested. 
 
 Mor. ISIy affairs are at a crisis ; and, if I augur rightly, it wiH 
 soon be all over Avith me. 
 
 Len. Hope better ; come AAith me. 
 
 Mor. With you — yvixh any one. My own thoughts are hateful 
 to me. Lead me w-here you ■will ; teach me to forget myself ! 
 
 (^Exeunt, l.) 
 
 END OF ACT H. 
 
 ACT m. 
 
 ScENF. I. — A Chamber in the House of Mordent. Two chairs. 
 
 Enter Mordext, r. 
 
 Mor. The crisis of my fate is come ; I seem fairly hurled into the 
 toils, and my pursuer is waiting to seize upon his prey. This cursed 
 deed, which gives the power to ruin me beyond redemption, is ready 
 for my signature ; but the plunge must be made ; it places at least 
 some little time between me and destruction, and is my last resource. 
 This poor deserted Joanna, too, preys upon my mind, and adds venom 
 to the stings of my remorse. Forsaken as she is, she, too, maj' be- 
 come the prey of some designing Lennox. And I have promi -ed liim 
 assistance in his pxirsuit. Y'et, if it be innocence he means to destroy,
 
 SCENE I.] FAblllOX AND FEELING. 25 
 
 I will recall my promise ; I ■v\'ill warn her of her clanger ; ibr, in my 
 own wreck, I will not pull down the hapiDiness and innocence of 
 another. 
 
 Enter Clemext, l. 
 
 Cle. My uncle desires me to inform you, sir, that he has examined 
 the deed, and it is ready for signing. 
 
 Mor. I am coming. 
 
 Cie. Had I but any influence with you, sii-, I would entreat — I 
 would conjure you not to execute it, sir. 
 
 Mor. (^SiUiiit/, n. c.) Why? 
 
 Cle. A sudden demand may be made by the first mortgagee ; you 
 may be unprovided lor payment ; equity of redemption will be for- 
 feited ; he will l(>reclose. and the estate will be his at a valuation 
 made fifty years ago — less than half its present worth. 
 
 Mof. (^Laujhiiij.) Ha, ha, ha ! — 'Twill become his encum- 
 brance, as it has been mine. 
 
 Cle. Money lenders neglect no advantage. 
 
 Mor. And as lor conscience or honor 
 
 Cle. Some of them, I am afraid, sir, have very little of either. 
 
 Mor. 'Tis in the order of things. Your uncle, indeed, is a man 
 of integrity ; he knows them to be rogues, and warns me of them. 
 
 Cle. Sii-, he — I — he may be a mistaken man, Uke others. I 
 once again conjure you, sir, to reconsider the consequence ; it is a 
 very serious affair. 
 
 Mor. Mr. Clement, you are young ; jou cherish the fond hope 
 of alleviating miserj'. Ah ! 
 
 Cle. Sir, I — my situation is a painful one ; but every feeling of 
 honesty and duty compels me to inform you, that, when once you 
 have signed tliis, you will be wholly in the grasp of merceiiary men, 
 who will pay no respect to former profits, the benefits they have 
 received, or the feelings and di-tresses of him by whom they have 
 acquired wealtM, jrower, and pride. [Exit, l.) 
 
 Mor. The nephew and the uncle, poor fools ! have the misfortune 
 to be honest ; Lfrime, sly villain ! is more cunning, and will not 
 forfeit his hope of cutting evil short at the gallows. The deed must 
 be signed, for the moncj' must be had. Yet these cautionings do but 
 strengthen an avosion which, in spite of necessity, 1 have alwavs 
 felt against this last act of despair. 
 
 Enter IxEjr, l. 
 
 Item. (^Aside.) Vt'hat can detain him : 
 
 Mor. (^Risini/.) Mr. Item, you are right — this mortgage is a 
 bad affair. Delay is dangerous ; thought is vain ; yet I am inclined 
 to think again before I sign. 
 
 Itent. Think! — O, by all means, sir; I like that — I approve 
 that. I am sorry to tell you, here is the upholsterer below, who is 
 very insolent, and declares, if he Iio not paid immediately, he will 
 have an execution iii the hoiise before niglit. 
 
 Mor. Scoundrel ! — Could not you r)\it him off for a week ? 
 3
 
 26 THE STE-WAED ; OR, [ACT III. 
 
 J'em. He has been put off too often. 
 
 M !f. Are there no moans by which you could advance me that sum 
 youi sell r 
 
 Item. O that I could ! it would make me the happiest man on 
 earth ! 
 
 Mor. AfFei'tionate soul ! 
 
 Item. Riches would, indeed, be welcome. 
 
 Moy. ( With sensibiliii/.) Mr. Item, you make me as great a fool 
 as yourself. 
 
 Item. As to the deed, I warn you again and again not to sign it. 
 
 Mor. Then I will not. Ruin and wretchedness are certain ; but 
 the mode of being wretched is in my own choice, and I will not. 
 
 Item. Yet what the devil I shall say to all your tradesmen, I don't 
 know : they arc, every one of them, as clamorous as the upholsterer. 
 I don't believe one of them will wait two days. 
 
 Mor. "Was ever man so pestered ? 
 
 Item. Here, too, is a long accoimt that I have just received from 
 your groom at Newmarket, who says he shall soon want even a wisp 
 of hay. For my part, I have not a guinea in hand — I \\ish I had. 
 ITicn the impatience of C'heveril ; and what the malignant world will 
 say of the defalcation of a guardian, there is no foreseeing. Sign you 
 must not. 
 
 Mor. At least, I will take an hour or two to think of it. Misfor- 
 tune, disgrace, and approaching inlamy, sit mocking at me ; and I 
 shall soon attain the acme of misery ! (Exit, l ) 
 
 Iti<7n. {Laughing stiei-riiiglg.) Ha, ha, ha ! You won't sign ! 
 Indeed, moody master of mine ! Ha ! but I will send those about 
 your ears that will presently make you 1 Now to see if Joanna is still 
 safe. ' {Exit, l.) 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the House of Grime. 
 
 Enter Chevef.il and Grdie, r. 
 
 Che. You must let me have the cash directly. 
 
 Grime. That is impossible. 
 
 C/ie. I say, you must. Impossible, indeed ! I'm of age, young, 
 rich, gay : I'll have nothing impossible ! 
 
 Grim-'. {Aside.) What if I were to tell him of Joanna ? 'Twould 
 be a good joke to rob old Item of her ; and lio would pay well. 
 
 Che. Twelve boi.irs I have been free, and I haven t had a taste of 
 pleasure yet. If I don't make haste, I shall grow old betore I begin. 
 
 Grime. { Aside.) 'Tis a rare thought. 
 
 Che. Why do you ruminate r Do you doubt me : — doubt a man 
 of eight thousand a year: 
 
 Grime. I say, Mr. C'hcveiil 
 
 Che. Well, what do you say ? 
 
 Grime. Do you love innocence, youth, and beauty? 
 
 Chf. Love 'em ! 'Sdeath ! An't I hunting them ? an't I dpng 
 for them ? 
 
 Grime, (l.) I know whej-e they are to be found.
 
 SCEXE m.] FASHIJX AMJ FEELING. 27 
 
 Che. (c.) You ! 
 
 Grime. The rarest creature ! 
 
 C/ie. "SVhere — where, you old fox : -whore ? 
 
 Grime. Such pure red and white ! 
 
 Che. Ay ! 
 
 Grime. Such moist, ripe, ruddy lips ! 
 
 Che. 'Sdeath ! don't drive me mad I Tell me Avhere ! Red and 
 •white ! ripe and ruddy lips ! But, stop ; I'll not be mifaithful to my 
 angelic incognita of the Green Park. 
 
 Giimc. She's a young, untutored thing. 
 
 Che. Untutored ! Then, depend on it, I'll not be her instructor. 
 She is not for me. I want to be a famous, wicked fellow, but not 
 by insnaring the helpless. Xo : that isn't the true way. 
 
 Grime. Ay, but insnared she will be ; and by one old enough to 
 be her grandfather. 
 
 Che. Xo ; curse me if she shall ! 
 
 Grime. Why, what will you do ? 
 
 Che. Snatch her from such aanger, provide for her, cherish her, 
 love her. Xo, I can't love her : my Green Park beauty has got all 
 my love. 
 
 Grime. Ay, now you say something. 
 
 Che. Zoiuids ! here have I been an age in the possession of eight 
 thousand a year, and have not done one famous, good, wicked thing 
 yet ! It's a damned shame I Isn't it, old Cent per Cent : 
 
 Grime. You'll fall in love with her the moment you see her. 
 
 Che. To be sure I shall. Xo, I shan't : I'm in love already ; and 
 one can't fall into two pits at the same time. 
 
 Grime. [Giving a card.) There — there's her address. 
 
 Che. Her address ! Mine will do the rest. 
 
 Grime. Mention my name, and they'll admit vou. 
 
 Che. {Beading.) "Mrs. Pe»fo/d,' Xo. "" 'Sblood ! Why 
 
 do I stand prating here ? Another day will be over, and I shan't get 
 a taste. (Crosses to L. u.) 
 
 Grime. 'Tis just by ; and I'm telling you of a banquet. 
 
 Che. To rescue youth and beauty from age and ugliness is, indeed, 
 a banquet. So good by, old Grime — here goes ! {Exit, l. h.) 
 
 Grime. (Laughing.) Ha, ha! I hope he'll outrival Item; and 
 if he should chance to marry her, 111 tell him she's legitimate, and 
 shall have to bring the action of recovery for my reward. {Exit, k.) 
 
 Scene III. — Outside of Mrs. Penfold's House. Window and door 
 in fiat, practical. 
 
 Enter Chevekil, 1 e. l. h. 
 
 Che. This is the street : it must be somewhere hereabouts. What 
 a fatiguing affair pleasure-hunting is ! O that I could once more 
 meet my lovely angel — my Green Park deity ! But she seems as 
 much lost as Rosianond's Pond. {Examining the card.) This is the 
 number.
 
 THE STEWARD ; OR, [aCT lU. 
 
 Enter TrKyi from Mrs. Penef old's door, R- D. F. 
 
 Ah, old Item ! What, my old boy ! you running after the girls 
 too? 
 
 Item, (jirls ! "What do you mean by girls, Mr. Cheveril ? What 
 brought you here ? 
 
 C/ie. The pursuit of pleasiure, my old boy — of beauty ! Do you 
 know where I can lind it ? 
 
 Item. I ! How should I know, Mr. Cheveril ? I have nothing 
 to do with beauty. You know business is my pursuit. 
 
 Che. O, j'ou sly old poacher ! Grime tells me there's a very 
 pretty girl horcaVouts. 
 
 Item Grime ! — (Aside ) A prating rascal ! — (To Cheveril.) 
 Did Grime tell you so ? (.Harmed.) Pooh ! pooh ! He was only 
 quizzing you. 
 
 Che. Quizzing ! No, no ! (Reconnoitring the house ) Door 
 shut — ^^■indows fast — all close as a country jail. How shall I 
 get in ? 
 
 Ifem. Eh ? get into jail ? Easy enough. But I say, Mr. 
 Cheveril 
 
 Che. O for a harlcqvun's wand, that, Avith a slap, I might turn the 
 house inside out, and see all its contents ! 
 
 Iti-m. Eh ! what ? He'll turn the house out of window. O 
 Lord ! 
 
 Che. Wmdow ! Gad, my old boy, a good thought ! 
 
 (Buttoning up his coat, and preparing for a hap.) 
 
 Item. Why, wh.&X. are you going to do ? 
 
 Che. Do ! Why, since the damned inhospitable door won't turn 
 upon its hinges, and admit me, I'll e'en make a morning call, by tak- 
 ing a flying leap through the window. So here goes ! 
 
 Item. (A-iide.) What shall I do ? — (Stopping him.) But I say, 
 Mr. Cheveril, recollect — remember 
 
 Che. Eh r Why, v\hat's the matter? — (Aside.) Egad! Item 
 was coming out of the house : he must be the old man ! Curse my 
 foolish tongue ! It had like to have spoilt 'd all ! 
 
 Itt;ii. (Anxiously.) And did Grime say this beauty was to be 
 found here ? 
 
 Che. Here ! no. O, he didn't tell me Avhere ! He only mentioned 
 general terms — beauty and so forth ; but 'twas only a j( ke. 
 
 Item. A joke! — O, only a joke! (L'uighing.) Ha, ha, ha! 
 (Earnestlg.) But you are sm-e he didn't tell you where? 
 
 Che. O, quite sure ! 
 
 Item, (Anxiously.) You're sure it was only a joke ? (Laughing.) 
 Ha, ha ! You're quite sure ? 
 
 Chs. O, only a joke ! ( Joaxn.v Ihron-s up the sash, r. f., and ap- 
 pears at the window for a moment.) What the devil was that ? 
 
 Item. (Alarmed, and turning CiiEVEUH, suddenly round.) O, 
 nothing ! 
 
 Che. Nothing! (Looking towards the loindow.) I am sure I saw 
 a petticoat and a sash.
 
 SCENE IV.] FASHION- AND FEELING. 29 
 
 Iti>m. (Turning him round) Yes, a sash — a sash window. — 
 (Asi'/e.) I wish I could c;et him away ! — {To Ciievebil.) But I 
 forf^ot : your guardian wants you. 
 
 Che, Then he must wait. 
 
 liein. But there's some money you must receive. — {Aside.) If 
 that doesn't entice him, nothing wdl. 
 
 Che. That must wait too. 
 
 Lein. But you'd better go to Mr. Mordent's. 
 
 Che. {A-iide.) The old tellow saspects ! — (Tb Item.) I can't. 
 
 Item. Why not ? 
 
 Che. This is my road, that's yours. I pursue pleasure, you busi- 
 ness. You know they always lie different ways ; so, tiy and prepare 
 the cash. 1 11 be with you presently ; and then hope never to see 
 your lace again till the money is spent, and I want more. 
 
 {El It, D. F. R. H.) 
 
 Itim. There he flies, the whirligig ! Ah, he's out of sight, and all 
 is sate ! That cursed babbliijg tongue of Grime's had almost ruined 
 me. Xow to make Mordent uign the deed, and I'm safe. 
 
 {Exit, L.) 
 
 Scene IV. — A Boom in t/te Hrjuse of Mrs. Penfold. Folding doors, 
 D. F. L. H., practical. 
 
 Enter M]is. Penfold, r. 1 e. 
 
 Mrs P, {Calling,) Betty ! 
 Betty. {Without,) Ma'am. 
 
 Mrs, P. "SVho is it that bounced through the back window m Eucli 
 haste? 
 
 Eiiter Betts', l. 
 
 Betty, I don't know, ma'am. A young — Hem ! {Exit, l.) 
 Enter Cheveril, l. 1 e. 
 
 Che, I am here safe — I have twicked him ! Ah ! my charm- 
 er Hum ! O, your humble servant, madam ! Your name 
 
 is 
 
 Mrs. P. Mrs. Penfold, at your service, sir. 
 
 Che. Your acquaintance, honest Mr. Grime, informs me you have 
 a beautiful girl und'T your care. 
 
 .Wr*. P. True, sir ; but I can permit her to see nobody without 
 Mr. Item's leave. 
 
 Che. Item! the cunning rogue! O ma'am, I'm just come from 
 old Item I 
 
 Mrs. P. O, if you have his pennission 
 
 Che. Permission ! — O, yes ! — no — that is — {A.^ide.) I won't 
 lie, even to a woman, though I know 'tis the fashion. — (7b Mrs. 
 Penfold.) I haven't got the old boy's permission. I only want
 
 •30 THE bTEWAKD; OK, [ACT lU. 
 
 yours ; and look here, {producing a bank note,) I'll give you this for 
 five minutes' convei-sation with her. 
 
 A//-.5. P. Why, bless me ! 'tis more than my whole year's annuity ! 
 But, observe, sii-, it is only a short conversation. 
 
 Che. Nothing more. 
 
 Mrs. /'. No injury to Mr. Item ? 
 
 Che, Never fear. 
 
 Mrs. P. Well, then, only for five minutes. (Exit, C. d. f.) 
 
 C/ie. Now, courage, Cheveril, and don't let her imagine I'm one 
 of your shcep-faco^ fellows. I don't fear any woman except her in 
 the Green Park. Now, if she be worth saving from this old fellow, 
 and I could outwit him, I — O ! — I should establish my character 
 for spirit, soul, and intrepidity forever ! I'll not be out of counte- 
 nance. No, damme ! I am determined. I'll six:ak — I'll speak, and 
 to the purpose, too ! I'll be a forward, prating, impudent, wicked 
 dog! 
 
 Enter Joanna, c. u. f. Cheveril turns his back, and tries to assume 
 courage. 
 
 Joa. A gentleman to speak to me ! Perhaps he who has written 
 to me, to warn me that I am not safe here, and who has sent me a 
 disguise. 
 
 Che. {Not daring to lank at Joanna.) Mrs. Penfold ! Mrs. Pen- 
 fold ! I wish Mrs. Penfold was hero. I should have felt bold 
 enough had she been present. 
 
 Joa. It is very strange ! 
 
 Che. (Listoii/ig.) What does she say r Ha — hem! Mrs. Pen- 
 fold ! Where the devil now is all my impudence flown ? 
 
 Joa. I hear from Mrs. Penfold that you wish to speak to me, sir. 
 
 Che. Yes — no — yes — that is . If I could but turn round ! 
 
 — one plunge, and it would be over. {Turning by degrees.) Ma — 
 Heavens ! {He stands astonished.) 
 
 Joa. {Aside.) Mercy ! It is he ! 
 
 Che. {Aside.) The very beauty of the Green Park ! 
 
 Joa. {Sighing.) I had almost hoped never to have seen him more ! 
 
 Che. {Aside.) This is the luckiest — lucky! To find her here, 
 exposed to I know not what danger ! 
 
 Joa. {Aside.) I have thought of him too much. 
 
 Che, Madam, I am sorry to find you 
 
 Joa. Sorry to find me ? 
 
 Che. No, no, no, madam : glad to find you — infinitely glad ; but 
 not exposed as you are in this house. 
 
 Joa, Exposed to what, sir ? Then was it you who wrote to me 
 under the name of Lennox, this morning, and sent me a disguise ? 
 
 Che. {Aside.) Lennox ! disguise ! Is this his charmer, then ? — 
 ( To Joanna. ) Zounds ! my sweet — I beg your pardon ; but don't 
 put it on : 'tis another plot. I never speak ill of any body ; but Len- 
 nox is a great villain : that is, where women are concerned. O, I am 
 so glad to see you ! Why the devil didn't you come into the Green 
 Park again r I got the rheumatism watching for you. I Avas frantic 
 to think I had lost vou.
 
 SCENE IT.] i-ASUIOX AXI) fEELIXG, 81 
 
 Joa. How SO, sir ? We are not acquainted. 
 
 Clw. I am sorry for it, ma.lau) ; b — b— but I hope we shall be. 
 I have be',>u a very Eedlaraite ; I could neitbcr cat, dnuk, nor t-lcep ; 
 I have dreamed of yoa every night ; you have beja in my head, in 
 my heart, in ray aiTns. 
 
 J 'a. Your arms, sir ? 
 
 ('fu'. 0, lord! no, madam, no, no! I — -I — am talking in my 
 sleep now. Fmgive me it' I appear intrudir^g ; indeed, my intention 
 is good. 
 
 Mor. ( Without, L.) I tell you, I will see her ! 
 
 Vhe. (Alarm-d.) 'Sdeath ! I hear my guardian ! {Lookin'i about.') 
 I must not be seen ; but, for H avcn's sake, let me speak to you once 
 more I 111 hide here. Get rid of guardy, a. id I'll pop out, and rinish 
 the convi'rsation. (^Ratires into a closdC, l. i>. F.,/ro/H ichich lie occa- 
 sionaily Itio'is.') 
 
 Joa. But, sir, what will Mrs. Penfold say ? what will she think ? 
 
 Enter Moedext, l. 1 e. 
 
 Mor. {Surveying Joaxxa.) Your humble sei-vant, madam. — 
 (Aside.) Shs is, indeed, beautif il! 
 
 Joa. Sir, is it Mrs. Penfold that you want ? 
 
 Mor. Xo, madam ; it is yourself. 
 
 C'/ie. {Asidf,fri)in the closet.) Curse me, if I don't think old Item 
 has placed her here tor him I 
 
 Joa, I have not the plea-ure of knowing you, sir. 
 
 Mor. That, madam, is true ; but you know a gentleman of the 
 name of Lennox, madam, do you not ? 
 
 Joa. Xot personally, sii" ; but I have received a letter signed by 
 that name. 
 
 Mor. He has made prrrosals to you, has he not r 
 
 Joa. Proposals ! I do not understand you, sir. He warned me 
 of some threatened danger, but. I coniess, his letter was a riddle to me. 
 
 M>r. {Asid.-.) By H.'avens, she is an innocent ! Nay, her coun- 
 tenance would half persuade me there are beings ca])able of happiness. 
 
 Che. {Aside, from the closet.) Zomids ! he looks as if he, too, 
 •would fall in love with her ! 
 
 Mor Pardon my intrusion, madam. I am a stranger to you, but 
 I am interested most warmly in your welfare; and since I have seen 
 you, that interest has incrjased. ^ladam, you are in danger. 
 
 J la. Yon, too, warn me of danger I ^^'hat is it, and who is it, I 
 am to fear ? 
 
 Mir. Young, beautiful, innocent, and unprotected, you should ask, 
 who is it you are not to fear : Ai'e you yet to learn that youth, inno- 
 cence, and beauty, are but so many incentives to the lawless libertine, 
 and that there are thousands ready to plot thi-ir destruction "r 
 
 Che. {Aside.) What the de\-il arc they about : 
 
 Joa. There is a tone, sir, in your voice, that — I know not why — 
 strikes directly to my heart. 
 
 Che. {Aside.) The devil there is ! She didn't say that of my 
 voice.
 
 32 THE STEWAKD ; OK, [ACT III. 
 
 Joa. Point out to me my dangei- — teach me to avoid it. I will 
 confide in ymi. 
 
 Mor. Conlide in none but yourself. I have been almost lured 
 into a plot for the destruction of your innocence, because I was led to 
 believe that innocence did not exist ; but I have seen you, am con- 
 vinced, and will at(5ne my error. Who and what arc you r 
 
 Joa, I am nobody — the child of nobody — a branch lopjxd off, and 
 cast away, that might have gro'\\'n, but that could find no root. Mis- 
 fortune and an active spitit, struggling to shake off oppression, have 
 quickened me a little. Other than this, I am but a simple girl ; and 
 my whole art is to note what I see, and to speak what I think. 
 
 Mor. AVhoever you are, come but with me; and, whUe I have a 
 morsel, a home, or a heart, you shall share them. 
 
 Che. {Riiniii)i<i forward from the closet.') Damme, if she shall. 
 
 Mm: ^^■hy, ilr. 
 
 Che. She shall have my morsel, my home, and my heart ! 
 
 Mor. You in this house, sir — Avith this lady, sir ! 
 
 Che. Nay, sir — you in this house, sir — v.\ih thLs lady, su- ! ^lad- 
 am, put no faith in him ; he does not care a farthing for you. I love 
 you, heart, body, and soul ! I'll offer you no wrong. Every proof 
 that the most ardent, purest passion can give, feel, or imaguie, shall 
 be yom-s, 
 
 Joa. For Heaven's sake, gentlemen ! O, where is !Mrs. Penfold ? 
 I must seek her, to prevent mischief. {Exit, precipitate/ if, c. d. f., 
 calling "Mrs. Penfold ! ") 
 
 Mor. {I'revetitiiig Cheveeil yVow passing.') How came I, sir, to 
 find you here r 
 
 Che. Zomids ! sir, how came I to find you here ? 
 
 Entc7- Mrs. Penfold, c. d. f. 
 
 Mrs. P. ^\Tiat have you done, sir r Ah, another gentleman I A 
 little more, and you had frightened her into a fit. , 
 
 Mor. Hark you, Mrs. Penfold ; at your peril, keep her safe and 
 free from insult till my return. {Exit, l.") 
 
 Che. Insult ! If 1 hear that old Item, or any body else, insults 
 her, I'll make a general massacre ! Let any one take her away, speak 
 to her, or even look at her, while I am gone, and I'll grind you all to 
 powder ! {Going, but returning hastily.) Here — here's another bank 
 bill. I'll be back in five minutes. Keep her safe, and I'll give you a 
 thousand pounds. My name is Chevcril — ten thousand! {Going 
 again, but returning.) Cheveril, I say ! My whole estate, my old 
 girl ! ( Exit, L.) 
 
 Mrs. P. But, sir — sir ! Mr. Item will never forgive me. 
 
 {Exit, L.) 
 Reenter Joanxa, hastily, C. d. f. 
 
 Joa. Did I hear right ? Am I, then, in the power of the man 
 against whom "Winter has so often A\arned me ? Every thmg confirms 
 it. I must escape ; but how ? Ah ! the disguise sent me for a vile 
 purpose shall effect a good one. I will use it ; return to the spot where
 
 SCE^E r.] r.vsuioN and feeling. 83 
 
 Jonathan used to meet me in the Green Park ; under his protection 
 seek some humble retirement ; and, while an honest though jx>(<r inde- 
 pendence becom.-s the truit of virtuous industry, I will pray lor that 
 father who exposed me, unprotected and helpless, to the vicLssitudcs 
 ot the woiid I {^Exii, n.) 
 
 EXD OF ACT III. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 Scene I. — The Steward's Room. A table and tico chairs. 
 
 Enter Item, enraged, and Grime, determined, with a bag, n. 
 
 Grime. Once for all, Mr. Item, it avIU not do ; so be of a sweet 
 temper. 
 
 Item. AVhy, you grumbling old blockhead ! what would you have ? 
 May you not thank me for every shilling you are worth in the world ? 
 
 Grime. Don t tell me, Mr. Item ; I am but yoiu: scavenger, and 
 you put me to a deal of dirty work. 
 
 Itnni Here's ingratitude ! Why, Mr. Grime 
 
 Grime. Well, Mr. Item. 
 
 Item. Did I not first iind you in Fullwood's Eents, where you 
 ■were stars'ing in rags and wretchedness r Answer that. 
 
 Grime. "Well ! 
 
 Item. Did I not take you to Monmouth Street ; make you cast 
 your beggar's skin ; transform you mto something ahnost human ; 
 hire you apartments in the Temple ; and pass you on my master for 
 a rich usurer — a damned rogue : 
 
 Grime. Very true ; but you would not let me act my part. You 
 took care to be the damned rogue yourself. 
 
 /•'(,'/». Have I not trusted you, tutored you, taught you your trade, 
 and furnished the tools : 
 
 Grime. What then r 
 
 Item. And do you pretend to bargain, wrangle, and prescribe 
 terms to me r 
 
 Grime. Yes, I do. 
 
 Item. You dor 
 
 Grime. I do. Help yourself how you can. 
 
 Hem. Here's a villain I 
 
 Grime. You trusted me, you know ; you taught me my trade, and 
 furnished the tools. 
 
 Item. You viper ! Sting the bosom that fostered you ? 
 
 Grime. I follow your own example. Mr. Mordent fostered you. 
 There's morality in it. 
 
 Item. O, damn your morality ! 
 
 Grime. Be of a sweet temper. Time was I was your slave ; yoi^ 
 are now mine.
 
 34 THE stewaud ; or, [act it. 
 
 Item. 0, the rascal — the infernal rascal ! 
 
 Grime. I'm too docp in your secrets for you to dare discard me ; so 
 I'll have my share. 
 
 Item. Your 
 
 Grime. Ay, my — my ftill share ; so, be sweet tempered. 
 
 Item, And who is to tind the money ? 
 
 Grime. You ! 
 
 Item. And who is to run the risk ? 
 
 Grime. You ! 
 
 Item. And who is to be prosecuted for usury and collusion ? 
 
 Grime. Cast, perhaps, for perjury — whipped, imprisoned, and put 
 in the pillory. ' You ! 
 
 Item. And yoii to run away with half the profits ? 
 
 Grime. Yes. 
 
 Item. Here's justice ! O, what a damned world do we live in I 
 
 Grime. Y'our fortime is made ; you must now help to make mine. 
 
 Enter Jonathan Winter, unperceived, l. h. d. f. 
 
 Item. Here's a ■^'illain ! 
 
 Grime. You must, or I tell. 
 
 Item. "What will you tell ? 
 
 Grime. All — all the usurious tricks you haVe practised on ^for- 
 dent ; the arts by which you have cheated him of his estates, pretend- 
 ing that I am the man ; your intention to foreclose ; your neglect in 
 not paj^ing yourself interest, purposely to rob according to law ; your 
 plots to ruin Cheveril ; all — all ! 
 
 Item. Y''ou vdll tell all this? 
 
 Grime. I will. 
 
 Item. {Seizing Grime, l.) AVhy, you fiend! you superlative vil- 
 lain ! you cutthroat ! 
 
 Grime. {Seeiiiff Winter.) Hem ! {A pause.') 
 
 Item. {Aside.) Ah, the cursed spy 1 — {To Winter.) Ah, good 
 Mr. Winter ! here is my old friend, Mr. Grime, has — has — {Anide 
 to Grime.) Y'ou see what your villany has done — {To Winteu.) 
 He is a good-natured soul, as vou know. {Aside to Grime.) Scoun- 
 drel I— {To Winter.) And he — I — I 
 
 Win. O, yes, yes — I understand ; ye needn't trouble yoursen to 
 explain. Ye'er a sweet nut, if ye war well crackt, I warrant ye. 
 
 Item. I — I — I was bantering him — trying to — {Aside to 
 Grime.) Villain ! — {To Winter.) But nothing can put him in a 
 passion. — {Aside to Grime.) O, curse you ! — (Tu Winter.) 
 Nothing ! Perhaps you want our good master, Mr. \\ inter ? 
 
 Win. Ecod ! for once in your life ye'er right, Mr. Item. I do 
 want him, and quickly, too. 
 
 Item. He is gone out. Nothing but a joke, Mv. Winter — nothing- 
 else. 
 
 Win. {Asidi', cUiiching his Jist.) Damme ! how I should like to 
 have one thump at 'em ! 
 
 Item. Can I — can my dear friend, Mr. Grime, — {aside to him,) 
 O, you thirf ! — {to Winter,) — do you any service ?
 
 BCENE I.] FASHION- AND I'EELIXG. 36 
 
 Win. Come, come ; none o' your hypocrisy \vi' me ; 'tvvon't do, 
 I tell ye. 
 
 Item. Can we oblige you any way in the world ? 
 
 Win. Yes. 
 
 Item. {F.iumingly.') How? how? 
 
 Wi7i. Why, by taking compassion o' the bowels o' ye'er brother. 
 Jack Ketch, and be ye'er own hangman ! (^^xit, L.) 
 
 It'/n. There, villain ! you see what you have done ? 
 
 Grime. Is it my fault ? I tell you again, you had better be 
 sweet tempered. I shall say no more. You know my mind. (^Go- 
 iitff.) 
 
 Item. (Aside.) O, that I could poison him! — {Aloud.) ^Ir. 
 Grime ! Mr. Grime ! my dear Mr. Grime ! 
 
 Grime. Well, Mr. Item. 
 
 Item. This quarrelling is very fooUsh. 
 
 Grime. O ! 
 
 I/em. We are necessary to each other. 
 
 Grime. I know it. 
 
 Item. Your hand, my dear Grime. 
 
 Grime. There. 
 
 Item. We are friends ? 
 
 Grime. If you please. 
 
 Item. Well, well ! — (Aside.) Damn him ! how I hate the dog ! 
 — (^To Grime.) Concerning this Berkshire mortgage? 
 
 Grime. Ay. 
 
 Item. You shall have twenty per cent, on the premium. — (^Aside.) 
 I must quiet him. 
 
 Grime. That won't do. 
 
 Item. (^Aside.) Unconscionable rascal ! — (To Grime.) Thirty! 
 
 Grime. It won't do. Half — the full half. 
 
 Item. (Aiidc.) Hell take him ! — (To Grime.) Well, well, my 
 dear Grime, the half be it. 
 
 Grime. Together with my moiety of the thousand given with Jo- 
 anna, and the half of her fortune — if you know what. 
 
 Item. Your — hem! (Siyhimj.) You shall — you shaU. Are 
 you sati-ified ? 
 
 Grime. On these conditions. 
 
 Item. Where is the deed ? 
 
 Grime, In that bag. 
 
 Item. Mordent is coming ; I know he will, for I know he shall, 
 sign. But that is not all. 
 
 Grime. What more ? 
 
 Item. This damned Yorkshireman will assuredly betray us to him ; 
 and Lady Anne's jomture prevents his being so entirely destitute and 
 powerless as is necessary. 
 
 Grime. But how is that to be helped ? 
 
 Item. O, we must let her relations know his conduct; they will 
 make her quit hhn. (L-))kiiig njf, l.) Hush! here he comes! I 
 will give you my reasons and instructions when we are alone. Where 
 is the deed ? 
 
 Grime. Here, ready. (^Laying it on the table.) Hem !
 
 36 THE stewakd; or, [act rv. 
 
 Enier Mordent, l. 
 
 Mor. (^Anffrili/.) What is the meaning, Mr. Item, that I see the 
 upholsterer, and two other ill-looking followers with him, below ? 
 
 Item. Na}\ why ask me? why knit your brows at me? Can I 
 coin ? 
 
 Mor. Excuse me. I am a hunted bull, and butt at friends and 
 foes. 
 
 Itetn. The insolent fellow insisted on taking possession ; so, think- 
 ing you would not wish Lady Anne to know, I prevailed on hiin and 
 the oiPcers to remain in the hall till I could speak to you. K I have 
 done amiss, show nic in what. 
 
 Mor. No, no ; I know your zeal. — (To Gkimi;.) Why will you 
 not advance two tliousand pounds for that and other immediate pur- 
 poses, and delay signing, ^Ir. Grime? I ask only a day. 
 
 Item. Ay, Mr. Grime, why will you not ? Pray do, Mr. Grime ! 
 
 Grime. (With gravitij.) Impossible! 
 
 Item. Don't tell me — impossible, ituleed ! You ought to consent 
 — it is your duty; nay, you shall consent! Now do consent ; rec- 
 ollect how much 
 
 Grime. I cannot — must have security. 
 
 Mor. {Lnuf/hi/i;/ convulsireli/.) Ila, ha, ha ! — (ToGiaME.) Vil- 
 lain ! where is the deed ? 
 
 Item. So you will not, Mr. Grime ? you will not ? 
 
 Grime. I wish I could, but I tun myself a borrower; the money is 
 not ray owni. 
 
 Item. Hem ! 
 
 Mor. { Involuntarily.) Ha, ha, ha ! Damn your rascally hypoc- 
 risy ! Give me the pen. 
 
 Item. (Holdin(j his arm.) Why, you will not sign, sir, will you? 
 
 Mor, Peace, fool ! Cannot you see a wretch on the wheel but 
 that your bones, ton, must ache? (Item quitting him, he sigtis.) 
 
 Item. Ah! it is always thus! I may advise, but my advice is 
 never followed. 
 
 Mor. {Sealing.) " I deliver this as ^ny act and deed." Here, im- 
 plement of hell ! I know your thirst, bloodhound ! 'Tis reudy-mixed 
 destruction ; take, quaff, and burst ! Begone ! 
 
 Item. ( Seizing the deed.) Come, sir ; my good master has sufficient 
 reason to be angry with you ; it was very unfriendly, sir, to refuse. 
 You teach Mr. Mordent what he has to expect. — (Aside.) All is now 
 secure ! {Exeunt Item and Gkime, l.) 
 
 Reenter Jonathan Winter, l. h., looking earnestly after them. 
 
 Win. Ha' ye signed ? ha' ye signed r 
 
 Mor. Ask no questions. Yes ! 
 
 Win. Then it's all over. Well, well. Stark deed has no remeed, 
 as the proverb says. Two wolves may well worry one sheep. I cam 
 to tell ye, that ye'er smooth tongued steward and his companion, 
 Grime, are about two of the greatest scoundrels as ever walked on two 
 legs. But 'tis no matter.
 
 SCENE I.] KASHIOX AND FEELING. 37 
 
 Mor. Pshaw ! fool ! 
 
 Win. I tall ye, they are two damned villains ! 'Tis nae six min- 
 utes agone sin' I heard all their tcrrilyiiig gab. 
 
 Mo/: Hear ! 
 
 Win. Yas, hear ! 
 
 3Ioi: What did you hear ? 
 
 Win. Item him.-^elf confess that he had fleeced ye of ye'er estates; 
 that Grime be nae mair but his jackal ; that it is his intention to fore- 
 close ; that he has wilfully negleettd to pay himsel interest, for that 
 he may claw ye agreeably to law ; that there ha' been sham deeds and 
 shameful doings ; and that a plot is laid to tikh Maistcr Cheveril of 
 aw' his wealth. 
 
 Mo7: (Laiiffhinff coinndsiveli/.) Ha, ha, ha ! You heard all this ? 
 
 Win. Ay, I did, wi' my own cars. 
 
 Mor. Ha, ha, ha ! Item ? Are you sure you heard this precious 
 mischief ? 
 
 IFm. When did Jonathan Winter tell you a lie ? 
 
 Mor. Ha, ha, ha ! Item ? I am glad on't ! 'Tis right — 'tis con- 
 sistent — 'tis dehghtful ! {Frcintidi/.) Ha, ha, ha ! Abraham's re- 
 jected prayer — not one honest man ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Win. Come, come — fair and softly : not you, nor the black clawed 
 Lucifer himsen, can deny but that old Jonathan Winter is honest. 
 
 Mor. Item r Ha, ha, ha ! And I, too — I thought him just and 
 good. O, gull, gull, gull ! Ha, ha, ha! {^Recollecting himself.) Tell 
 Mr. Clement I wish to speak with him. 
 
 Win. But your child — ha' ye heard nothing o' her r 
 
 Mor. ^ly child ! — True : you recall another agonizing reflection : 
 'twas to this villain I trusted her. 
 
 Win. To Item r to old Item r Then Heaven have mercy on her, 
 that's all ! 
 
 Mor. Ah ! I see at once — his horrid plan bursts upon me ! He 
 knew of her legitimacy : his gains ■^^■ere not secure while she lived. 
 Away ! send Clement to me. 
 
 Win. Ay, noo the steed is stolen, j-e wad lock the door. 
 
 {Exit, E.) 
 Mor. {Conmdsively.) O, the sharp-fanged wolf ! — Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Enter Lennox, l. 
 
 Len. ^Mordent, how now ? — How you look ! 
 
 Mor. I am an ass — a most ineffable ass ! 
 
 Lcn. AVhat is the matter ? 
 
 Mor. Ha, ha, ha ! 'Tis proved upon me. 
 
 Len. \o\vc mirth is of a strange kind. 
 
 Mor. The man whom I have trusted through life — ha, ha, ha ! 
 — he whose rigid honesty — do you mark me .- — ha, ha, ha I — 
 Honesty ! 
 
 Lea. Well ! 
 
 Mor. Ha, ha, ha ! — Whose honesty made me sometimes doubt 
 the truth of the sclf-evidant system of evil — ha, ha, ha ! — he's a 
 rascal ! a double-leagued hell-dog ! 
 4
 
 38 nir stkavard ; or, [act tv, 
 
 Len. i^our steward ? 
 
 Mor. Item — a deep, damnable, thorough-paced villain ! that can 
 bully, cajole, and curse — tawn. Hatter, and tilch ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Lea. Be patient. 
 
 Mor. O, I am delighted — ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Len. Be calm : ycm knew yourself to be in the power of a villain, 
 and 'tis little matter whether his name be Grime or Item. 
 
 Mor. How ? Ha, ha, ha ! In a world of rascality, are not two 
 rascals better than one r 
 
 Len. Nay, but attend to me : I want your help instantly at Mrs. 
 Penlold's. 
 
 Myr. {After a pause.) Mrs. Penfold ? 
 
 Len. \ es. 
 
 Mt»r. {Recall cting.) It must not be. 
 
 Len. Ahey ! what's the Ireak now ? 
 
 Mor. { WiLllj.) You can have no help of mine ! 
 
 Leu. {Ani/rili/.) Indeed, but I must. 
 
 Mor. {ii'tth I'nniest rapiditi/.) I would not commit an injury on 
 that girl lor worlds ! 
 
 Len. { With iucrcasfd anger.) Why, what conscientious mum- 
 mery is this r You neglect your own child, and pretend to interest 
 yourself for a stranger ! 
 
 Mi)r. If the stranger be an angel of light — a beneficent being, 
 •why not ? 
 
 Ltn. Beneficent ! — AYhat, in this system of evil ? 
 
 Mor. An exception to the rule — a rare exception. 
 
 Len Like Item r 
 
 Mor. Pshaw ! — Hell ! 
 
 Len. And may not yoiu: deserted daughter be equally an an- 
 gel r 
 
 Mor. { Wildly.) May she ? If she should, I'll have no concern in 
 the rum of that girl. 
 
 Len. {With suspicion and anger.) Hark ye. Mordent: I suspect 
 you are plotting. 
 
 Mor. I ! — 'Tis likely, indeed, at the moment that I have plunged 
 into such a gulf as tliat which now surrounds me, that I should be 
 plotting al;out a girl. 
 
 Len. WcU, well, it may be so. The maid of the house, who is in 
 my interest, tells me she has adopted the disguise I sent her. As to 
 you, Mordent, if you refuse me the aid I have a right to expect at your 
 hands, you must no longer expect my forbearance. Ponder on it well, 
 and meet me instantly where your larcsence may be service .ble to me. 
 My heart Is in the aifair ; and woe be to liim \\ ho stands an obstacle in 
 my path to her possession ! - {Exit, l.) 
 
 Min\ {Laugh iug despundinglij.) Ha, ha, ha ! — His forbearance ! 
 — Forbearance ? — "Well, well, no matter : friends and foes, assist him ! 
 Debt has made me his slave, and why should I stand a bulwark in the, 
 way of destruction r why stretch forth my har.d r Is there one lor me 
 to gra'-p at ■ None ! I will assist him, and help to pull down the 
 virtue that puts my own vice out of countenance. {Exit, k. h.)
 
 8CENK I.] FASHIOX AND FEELIXG. 39 
 
 Reenter Joxatu.vn "NVixter, r. 3 E. u. 
 
 Win. Ecod ! this poor lass runs in my head strangely ; and my 
 heart goes thump, thump, wheuevir I think on her, ^o that I can't 
 rest ony where. 'Tis no use my asking old Item fairly and openly 
 where he ha' put her, because he wouldn't tell ; and it wouldn't Ix; 
 much more use my throttUng him to get it out on him, because then 
 he couldn't tell. Eut I'll watch him. 
 
 Enter Cheteril, 1 e. l. ii., in great haste, searching. 
 
 Well, mon, what are ye looking a'ter ? 
 
 Che. My dear "Winter, can you direct me where Mr. Item or Mr. 
 Grime may be found r 
 
 Win. I direct ye to see such a pair o' scoondrcls ■ I may as well 
 tell ye how to catch plague, pestilence, and famine, at once. I'm a 
 hunting one on 'em my>el. 
 
 Che. 'Sdeath ! they are both dead and buried, I believe; for they 
 are neither here nor there, nor any where else. — Can you tell me 
 where I can borrow a few thousands r 
 
 Win. Pray, may I be so bold as to ask whether ye tak me for a 
 thief or a steward r 
 
 Che. I shall go mad 1 O Winter ! I left the most angelic girl 
 your eyes ever beheld, at a house hard by. She must be friendless 
 and fatherless, exposed to the arts of villains. 
 
 Win. (^Kajerhj.) What's that ye say of faitherless angel ? 
 
 Che. I saw her first in the Green Park. 
 
 Will. Green Park I 
 
 Che. She Ls now at Mrs. Penfold's. A divine girl ! a miracle ! 
 
 Win. What ? how ? a lass in the bloom of youth — a yoimg 
 creature : 
 
 Che. Xot twenty ; yet with the penetration, wit, and understand- 
 ing of the seven sages. 
 
 Win. (A/itated.) The Green Park 1 Penfold's ! 
 
 Che. Hard by. 
 
 Win. I know the place — I'll be a'ter her ! If it should be 
 
 Quickly, old Jonathan, quickly ! {Exit, hastily, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Che. ^^'hat is the matter with the honest soul ? I don't know 
 what sum may be necessary, but I find I can do nothing without 
 money. I must have enough, too, for I must make sure. I'll place 
 her in safety and splendor ; she shall be my queen. 
 
 Enter Item, l. 
 
 Ah, my dear, dear Item ! I am the luckiest fellow on earth — am in 
 instant want of money ! 
 
 Item. So am I — I have been in want of it all my life. 
 
 Che. You must furnish me with ten thousand piouuds. 
 
 Item. Ten thousand ! Ah ! I wish I coukl 1 
 
 Che. 'Sblood ! don't stand wishing, but give me the money. 
 
 Item. If my Iriend Grime was but here
 
 40 THE STEWAKU ; OE, [ACT IV. 
 
 Che. 'Sdeath and the devil ! give me the monej' ! I shall lose her 
 — she'll be gone ! I'll make over the seventeen thousand that is in 
 Mordent's hands — I will, by Heaven ! — on the word and honor of a 
 gentleman ! 
 
 Item. The seventeen thousand ! 
 
 Che. I will. 
 
 Itrm. It is true, I have cash in hand, but not my oa\ti. 
 
 Che. Zounds ! never mind whose it is — let me have it ! 
 
 Item. "Why, if I could but manage the matter — I am a poor old 
 man, and it would be a little lift. 
 
 Che. O, damn your Uttle lift ! 
 
 Item. You are sure you understand ? The seventeen thousand — 
 the whole seventeen. 
 
 Che. I tell you, yes. 
 
 Item. The risk will be very great. 
 
 Che. Do you doubt my word ? 
 
 Item. No, no ; but 
 
 Che. But what r 
 
 Item. Your hand -vn-iting, on a stamp, would be a memoran- 
 dum. 
 
 Che. You shall have it. Write a receipt for seventeen thousand : 
 I'll sign it. 
 
 i^Item searches out an account hook, and lays it on the table, then takes 
 out another book, finds a stamp, and writes.) 
 
 Item. Ay, this k the thuig. You remember the risk r otherwise it 
 might be thought 
 
 Che. Give it me ; I have no time for thinking. 
 
 Item. I must borrow to replace it. 
 
 Che. Will you come away, and let me have the money ? Come, 
 come, man ! 'iSdeath ! will you despatch ? {^Going, e.) 
 
 Enter Clement, l. 1 e. 
 
 Cle. {To Item.) Do you know where Mr. Mordent is, sir ? 
 
 Item. No. sir. 
 
 {Exit Cheyekil, hurrying Item off, r., who puts up his receipt in one 
 book, and forgets the other that he laid upon the table.) 
 
 Cle. Mr. Mordent has asked for me, and, unfortunately, I cannot 
 find him ; I fear he has signed the mortgage. O, this uncle ! Never 
 was situation so excruciatmg as mine ! Must I cast off all ties of 
 blood, become his accuser, and, as the world would call it, betray my 
 benefactor ? Besides, what have I to reveal ? My fears and my sus- 
 picions, unconnected facts, that can alarm but not relieve : and who is 
 it that I should thus impotently accuse .- My own uncle ! (Seeing 
 the book on the table.) Ha I what have we here r As I live, his pri- 
 vate account book I The verv' thing he has so carefully concealed 
 from all inspection ! — What shall I do ? Deliver it to Mordent ? 
 What may be the consequences r Disgrace, infamy, and — Dread- 
 ful thought ! I must not be rash. (Looking off, k.) Hark ! he's 
 here ! I must consider well. (Exit with the book, L, 1 E.) 

 
 f 
 
 BCENE I.] JASHIOX AXD FEELING. 41 
 
 Reenter Item and CnEVEiirL, hastily, r. 1 e. — Item, trith his hair on 
 end, runs up to the table, friyhtened, looks over it, under it, and every 
 where. 
 
 Che. (Anxiotts to yet him away.) You see there is no book there. 
 
 Item. ( IVith terror.) I am certain I had it in my hand. 
 
 Che. "\Ve have not quitted the room a minute ; nobody can have 
 been here since. 
 
 Item. We left my nephew here. 
 
 Che. Well, if he have it, 'tLs safe enough. 
 
 Item. I don't know that — I don't know that ! If I have lost it, 
 I shall never sleep again ! 
 
 Che. Come away 1 — you have it somewhere, locked up safe. 
 
 Item. No : I laid it down here — I am positive of it ! 
 
 Che. Nay, but you see that it is unpossible. {Taking his arm.) 
 Come — come ! 
 
 Item. If it be gone, I shall go mad ! 
 
 Che. Is it so valuable r 
 
 Item. (^Still scarchiny his pockets, the table, and the chamber.) I 
 would not lose it for all I am worth in the world ! 
 
 Che. {Elbounny him, but not rudely at first, to the door.) Come, 
 come ! What did it contain : 
 
 Item. My soul ! my secrets ! 
 
 Che. Well, it certainly is not here. You must go — you shall go ! 
 I'll indemnify you. 
 
 Item. You can't. 
 
 Che. I tell you, I will. (^Pushing him ojf.) It is in your own 
 room. 
 
 Item. I hope so — I hope so ! ( Turning back.) But my heart 
 misgives me. O Lord ! I am undone 1 
 
 Che. {Pushing him again.) Will you go ? 
 
 Item. {Turning.) I am wretched ! 
 
 Che. {Pushing him.) You won't ? 
 
 Item. { Turning again.) I am ruined I 
 
 Che. {Pushing him.) Will you, or 
 
 Item. { Turning.) I'm lost ! I'm dead ! I'm 
 
 Che. {Violently forciny him off.) Furies and lire ! begone! 
 
 {Exeunt, L.) 
 Betnter Mordext, k. 1 e. 
 
 Mor. {Calling.) Mr. Cheveril ! {Running over to the door.) Mr. 
 Cheveril ! 'Tis impossible to stop him. But no matter ; he can be no 
 further interruption to Lennox, who says he is certain his schemes will 
 succeed. O fortune I fcrtune ! how dost thou aid the plots of man, 
 ■when destruction is his object ! And I, tuo, have calmly permitted 
 the ruin of an innocent, who, while I looked and listened to her, I 
 ■would have lost my life to defend ! 
 
 Enter Lady Anne, e. 1 e. 
 
 Lady A. I am driven upon an agonizing task, wliich a too painful 
 4 *
 
 42 THE 8TEAVAKD ; Oil, [aCT IY. 
 
 sense of duty, and your want of confidence, only could oblige me to 
 execute. 
 
 Mor. Proceed, madam ; apologies lor feeling or for inflicting pain 
 are quite unnecessary. 
 
 La(/i/ A. Would it -wore to Lc avoided ! — But you have left me 
 no alternative. You have a daughter : I, it seems, have innocently 
 been the cause that she is disowned and abandoned. Of this I cannot 
 knowingly consent to be a moment guilty. Our separation is decided 
 to be inevitable. 
 
 Mor. And you support your fate with patience : 
 
 Ladi/ A. Patience ! — Na)-, nay ; I do not deserve this reproach. 
 
 Mor. You deserve ! — Who shall dare insinuate it ? 
 
 Lady A. At this moment, when my heart a^cain bursts from the 
 bondage in which it has been inthralled, and plays the part it was 
 wont to do with my affections, happy days and past endearments rush 
 upon my mind with sensations unutterable. As I was, I first won 
 your heart ; had I remained what I was, time might have recalled it 
 to my power. But I find too late that I have wrecked my own peace, 
 at the moment that I might have restored yours. 
 
 Mor. (Much 7noi-rd.) Madam, I — I — I request I may be tor- 
 tured by any thing but your candor. 
 
 Lndi/ A. The total absence of affection on your part was sufficient 
 to torture me, and to drive me to every method to seek relief ; but to 
 be the cause of banishing a child from a father's arms and heart — to 
 cast her an oi-j:)han on a tempestuous world, — no ! Whatever my 
 other mistakes may have been, of that no tongue shall accuse me. 
 
 Mor. Ilight : let the guilt be all my o\\-n. 
 
 Ladi/ A. And now I have one last request to make, which I con- 
 jure you, by all our former affection, not to deny. The settlements 
 which you made on me in our early days of love were ample : in the 
 sincerity of affection I vowed, if ever they sliould be necessary to your 
 happiness, that moment they should again be yoxirs. 
 
 Mor. (Grcatli/ ai/itcUed.) Madam 
 
 Ladi/ A. Nay, nay, I will not be refused. All the first years of 
 our union my commands were obeyed ; once more, and once only, I 
 exert the prerogative your affection then gave mc. The deeds are now 
 in Mr. Clement's possession ; he will restore them to you. 
 
 Mor. ■{^Iiidignantly.') Never ! 
 
 Lady A. Stop ! beware of rashness ! Y'ou are a father, and have 
 a father's sacred duties to fulfil. Take home your daughter ; make 
 her V hat amends you can for the desertion of a parent's love ; derive 
 delight from her innocent lips ; let it sometimes remind you of those 
 which once smiled upon you with such fervent affection. 
 
 Mor. {Aside.) 'Tis too much ! Scorpions could not sting like 
 this ! 
 
 Lady A. !Money is a poor vehicle for the affections of the soul — a 
 contemptible token of the love I have borne you ; but, such as it is, 
 lor that love's sake, give it welcome. A cold adieu I cannot take — 
 it freezes my very heart. From my soul I ever loved, and ever shall 
 love I Had I a heaven of happiness to bestow, would you but deign 
 to accept it from me, it should be yours ! ( Exit, E.)
 
 SCENS I.] FASHION AND FEF.LINU. 48 
 
 Mor. Why, so, so, so ! It rages — it bursts — it is complete ! 
 Let fate or fiends increase the misery if they can ! 
 
 Reenter Joxathax Winter, 1 e. l. h. 
 
 Win. It's past — it's all over ! My fears and forebodings are ful- 
 filled ! I hae foond her — I hae foond her, I tell ye. 
 
 Mor. Have you ? where ? 
 
 Will. Now, indeed, Jonathan Winter is a rascally go-between ! 
 (^With horror.) But what arc you ? 
 
 Mor. You say you have found her ? 
 
 Win. She is gone — she is ruined ! Ye' re a A\Tatch ! the most 
 miserable o' wratches ! 
 
 Mor. Tormenting demon ! What — who — Where have you 
 been r 
 
 Win. To Mrs. Penfold's. 
 
 Mor. (Seized with terror) Penfold's! — What do you say ? 
 
 Win. I was too late. A maister scoondrel, e'en as wicked as her 
 own feyther, had decoyed her into his domned net ! 
 
 Mor. (Distractedly.) Decoyed ! 
 
 Win. Lemiox — ye'er friend, ye'er crony ! 
 
 Mor. (With horror.) From Mrs. Penfold's ? 
 
 Win- Haven't I toud ye ? 
 
 Mor. Lennox ! Joanna ! 
 
 Win. Y'es ; Lennox — Joanna ! Let it rmg in your ears : — Jo- 
 anna, ye'er child — ye'er guileless Joanna ! He sent her a disguise ; 
 she ha' put it on ; and the maid do say ha' gon' off with Lennox. 
 
 Mor. (Franticly.) Misery of hell ! And was that Joanna? that 
 my child ? Celestial creature ! Audi — {A pause of despair.) 
 
 Win. (Alarmed at the agony of yio'B.D'E'ST.) Sir — sh ! Maister! 
 
 Mor. (Starting.) I almost the pander ! Imagination paints her 
 shrieking on the bed of infamy, and chains her in the arms of lust ; 
 and I, her father, knew it, stood calmly by, and did not prevent it ! 
 (A pause of fixed horror.) 
 
 Win. (With great feeling.) Maister — dear maister! — Maister 
 Mordent ! dear Maister Mordent ! — Speak ! — Izc tbrgi' ye. Why, 
 maister ! Ize pray for ye — Ize die for ye — Ize forgij ye ! 
 
 Mor. (Starting from a profound trance of despondency .) Fly ! 
 summon the servants ! arm yourselves ! — Follow me ! 
 
 (Exit, hastily, L.) 
 
 Win. (Confusedly.) William ! Sandy ! Jock ! (Exit, calling, l.) 
 
 END OF ACT FV.
 
 44 THE STEWARn ; OK, [act v. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. — The Green Park. Twilight. 
 
 Enter ^Moudent and Lenxox, l. 
 
 Mor. Tell mc, aiid tell me instantly, -where you have lodged 
 Joanna ? 
 
 Len. Nay, sir, where have you lodged Joanna ? 
 
 Mor. Mr. Lennox, I will not be tritied with ; where is she ? 
 
 Len. Nor will I be tritied with. I have discovered you, Mr Mor- 
 dent ; I have heard of your visit to Mrs. Penlold ; of that old villain 
 Item's iDart in the a^air ; in short, of your whole contrivance. 
 
 Mor. This will not serve, sir ; it is all evasion. 
 
 Len. Ay, sir, it is evasion — cunning, base, damned evasion ; and 
 I aliirm she is in your possession. 
 
 Mor. ilr. Lennox, I am at this moment a determined and desper- 
 ate man, and must be answered. "Where is she r 
 
 Len. Sir, I am as determined and desperate as yourself; and 1 
 say. Where is she ? for you alone can tell. 
 
 Mor. 'Tis false ! 
 
 Lin. False ? 
 
 Mor. Ay, ialse ! 
 
 Len. {Going up to him.) He is the falsest oi the false that dares 
 ■whisper such a word ! 
 
 Mor. Hark you, sir : I understand your meaning, and came pur- 
 posely provided. {Produciwj a pair of 2nstols.) Take your choice ; 
 they are loaded. 
 
 Len. O, with all my heart. {Presenting at some distance.') Come, 
 sir ! 
 
 Mor. {Ai^proaching sternly.) Nighcr ! 
 
 Len. {Going towards him duspcrattdg.) As nigh as you please. 
 
 Mor. {After a short pause.) "Why don't you tire r 
 
 Len. Why do you turn your weapon out of the line ? {Dropping 
 his arm — a pause.) I see your intention, Mr. Mordent : you are 
 tired of life, an^J M-ant mc to murder you. Damn it, man ! that is 
 not treating your friend like a friend. Kill me, if you will, but 
 don't make mo your assassin ! {Another pause — both great! g njfecied.) 
 
 Mor. {Tenderly.) Nay, kill me, or tell me where you have lodged 
 the A\Tetched girl ! 
 
 Len. { With great energy.) Fiends seize me, if I have lodged her 
 any where, or know what is become of her ! 
 
 Mor. Your behavior tells me you are sincere ; and to convince 
 you at once that I am no less so, know she is my daughter. 
 
 Len. {Wifh astonishment.) Your daughter ! Murder my friend, 
 and seduce his daughter ! 
 
 Moi: {Deeply ajfected.) We are sad fellows. {They pause, and 
 gradually recover from the dcp pussi >n rci'h which tkey were mutually 
 seized.) Again and again, 'tis a vile world !
 
 BCENB I.] FASHION' AXD rEELIN'O, 46 
 
 Len. {^Eagerhj.') I'll seek it through with you to find her. For- 
 give me ! 
 
 Mor. (^Taking his hand.) Would I could forgive myself! 
 
 Li-n. ( Witli iinimaiioii.) But it seems, then, she has escaped, and 
 is perhaps in safety. 
 
 Mi/i: O that she were ! Winter used to meet her here, in the 
 Green Park, about this time of the evening. (^Listvning.) I hear 
 the sound of feet. [Lo iking off', l. s. e.) 'Tis not a woman. Let 
 us retire among the trees, and keep on the watch. 
 
 {Retiring, 3 e. r.) 
 
 Enter Ciieveril, l. s. e. 
 
 Che. {Locking round with great anxiety.) She is not here ! She 
 is gone — forever gone ! I shall never more set eyes on her ! I'll tire 
 that infernal house — I'll fire London — I'll pistol I^ennox ! I may 
 perambulate here till doomsday, and to no jjur^ ose. She would have 
 beeu here, had she been free. Ay, ay, she is in thraldom — perhaps 
 in the very gripe of vice. Furies ! — Lennox is a liar ! I'll cut his 
 throat — I'll hack him piecemeal! I'll have her, or I'll have his 
 heart! {Retires among the irees, L. C, searching.) 
 
 Enter Joanxa, in men's clothes, p.. 2 e. 
 
 Joa. Whither shall I fly r where shall I hide r how fly the pur- 
 suits of wicksd men r I liave neither house, home, nor friend on 
 earth ; and the fortitude that can patiently endure is my only resource. 
 What then ? Have I not escaped from those sn.ares which vice had 
 spread for me! O, happiness! I have — I have ! and rather than 
 venture in them again, welcome, hunger ! welcome, cold ! welcome, 
 the bare ground, the biting air, and the society of brute bea.«ts ! 
 
 Che. {Coming forirard.) What can that youth want r Whom is 
 he watching here ? ( WaHung round Joanxa.) 
 
 Jou. As I live, the young gentleman I saw this morning ! What 
 reason can he have for being in this place r 
 
 Che. {Aside.) lie eyes me with curiosity. 
 
 Joa. His intentions seemed good. 
 
 Ch^. (/IvtV/e.) Who can say — ho may know her. lie is a smart, 
 handsome, dapper fellow. I don't like him. 
 
 Joa. 1 am not now confined by walls and bolts ; there can be no 
 danger; I'll speak. Pray, sir 
 
 CAe. {Abruptly.) Well, sir? 
 
 Joa. Have you seen a young person ? 
 
 Che. {Eagerly.) A lady ? 
 
 Joa. Yes. 
 
 Che. {Rapidfy.) AVith blue eyes, auburn hair, aquiline nose, 
 ivory teeth, carnation lips, ravislung mouth, enchantuig neck, a form 
 divine, and an angel face ? 
 
 Joa. Have you seen her ? 
 
 Che. Are you acquainted with that lady ? 
 
 Joa. 1 am acquainted with a lady, but not an angel.
 
 46 Tin; STKWARD ; OK, [act v. 
 
 Che. Ah, then, 'tis not she ! {Jeahusli/.) Perhaps you are her 
 — her lover r 
 
 Joa. Humph ! I — I love her. 
 
 Che. Youdor — (^Aside.) I'Ube the death of him ! — (7o Joanna.) 
 And she loves you ■ 
 
 Joa. Why, yes. 
 
 C/ie. (Aside.) I'll put an end to him ! — (7b Joanna.) Are you 
 married r 
 
 Joa. No. 
 
 Che. You — you mean to many her ? 
 
 Joa. No. 
 
 Che. I« she, then, lost to virtue ? 
 
 Jaa. "Who dare suppose it ? 
 
 Che. Ay — who dare ? I'll cut the villain's throat that dares ! 
 
 Joa. She has endured insult, constraint, and violence, but not guilt. 
 
 Che. Guilt ! — Xo, not wilful guilt : impossible ! But, then, is 
 she safe ? is she safe ? 
 
 Joa. Disowned by her family, exposed to the snares of vice, hou;e- 
 less, hopeless, friendless, not daring to approach the wicked haunts of 
 men, she wanders forlorn and desolate, willing to suffer, disdaining to 
 complain. 
 
 C/ie. Tell me where : I will rescue, defend, protect, cherish, love, 
 adore, and die for her ! 
 
 Joa. Is your heart pure ? — Have you no selfish, dishonest purposes ? 
 
 Che. How came you to imagine, sir, that I, or any other man, 
 durst couple her and dishonesty, even in a thought ? 
 
 Joa. Sleet me here to-morrow, at ten. 
 
 Che. You r 
 
 Joa. You shall see her. 
 
 Che. See her ! — Shall I ? 
 
 Joa. You shall. 
 
 Che. My dear friend ! {Catching her in his arms.) I'll make 
 your fortune ! At nine ? 
 
 Joa. Ten. 
 
 Che. Could I not see her to-night ? 
 
 Joa. To-morrow Joanna will meet you. 
 
 Che. Joanna ! — Is that her dear name r 
 
 Joa. It is. 
 
 C/ie. Delightful sound ! the sweet Joanna ! the divine Joanna ! 
 My heart's best blood is not so precious as Joanna ! 
 
 Joa. But pray, where do you live ? 
 
 Che. Joanna ! — In Portland Place. 
 
 Joa. Your name r 
 
 Che. Joanna ! — Cheveril, Hans Cheveril. Joanna ! — Be sute 
 you don't forget. 
 
 Joa. I'll be punctual. (Mordent, 3 e. e. h., appears am-wg the 
 trees.) "Who's here ? (Glides off, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Chs. Joanna ! — At eight, did you say ? Where is he gone ? 
 Sir, sir ! (Exit, hastily, e. s. e.) 
 
 Mor. (Coming forward.) I heard the name repeated ! — (Aloud.) 
 Who is it here that knows Joanna ?
 
 SCENE I.] FASHIOX AXD FEELING. 47 
 
 Joa. (Appearing, 2 e. l. h.) I do. 
 
 Mor. Sir, do you ? Well, and what — -where ? Is she safe ? 
 
 Joa. I hope so. 
 
 Mor. But where, sir, where ? 
 
 Joa. (Aside.) 'Tis Mr. Cheveril's guardian I — (To Mordent.) 
 Why do you inquire ? 
 
 Mor. For Heaven's sake, sir, do not torment me by delay, but tell 
 me where she is ! 
 
 Joa. I must not. 
 
 Mor. {Seizing her arm.) But, sir, I say you must and shall ! 
 
 Joa. (^Firmly.) Sir, you mistake if you suppose menaces can 
 prevail. 
 
 Mor. Excuse me : I would give my right hand to know what it 
 appears you can tell. " 
 
 Joa. I can tell nothing, till I am first made acquainted with your 
 true motives. 
 
 Mor. And ynW you inform me then ? 
 
 Joa. Pro^'ided I am certain of their purity. 
 
 Mor. Know, then, that I pant for a sight of her once more, to do 
 her the little justice that is yet in my power. Know, the wrongs she 
 has received from me are irreparable, vile, such as could not have 
 happened but in this Avorst of worlds. Know, that I, her natural 
 guardian, have been her actual persecutor ; that I drove her into the 
 danger of inlamy ; that I almost became the agent of her ruin ; and 
 that when I knew the engines of darkness and hell were at work to 
 insure her everlasting A\Tetchedness, I then discovered {^shuddering 
 with horror) that she was my daughter ! 
 
 Joa. Sir ! your daughter ! You — you her fatlier ? — you my 
 father ? 
 
 Mor. Yes, I. 
 
 Joa. {Falling at his feet, and snatching his hand.) My father ! 
 
 Mor. Can it be r — My child — my Joanna ! {Eagerly raising and 
 regarding her again.) It is — it is ! {Falling on her neck.) 
 
 Joa. My father ! . 
 
 Mor. My child ! And innocent ? 
 
 Joa. As your own wishes, or the word father should never have 
 escaped my Ups. This dress was the disguise conveyed to me, by which 
 I effected my escape. I can suffer any thing but dishonor. 
 
 Mor. A father r O, I do not deserve thee — I do not deserve thee ! 
 {Gazing rapturously on her.) Once again let me fold thee to my 
 heart ! 
 
 ].en. { Without, at a distance, L.) Zounds, sir ! 
 
 CJie. { Without, l.) I insist, sir ! 
 
 Joa, 1 hear voices. {They retire, R.) 
 
 Enter Cheveril and Lennox, l. 2 e. 
 
 Che. O for swords, daggers, pistols, blundcrbuses, and four-and- 
 twenty pounders ! 
 
 Mor. (3'o Joanna.) This way ! 
 
 {Exeunt Mordent and Joanna, r. h. 3 e.)
 
 48 iHE STEWAiii) ; ou, [act v. 
 
 Lfi)i. Confound your impertinent freaks ! they have stopped my 
 moulh this half hour. I would have told you all I knew instantly, 
 but for your insulting passion. 
 
 C/w. Did not you hay, you would not tell me where she is ? 
 
 Len. I said, I could not. 
 
 Che. Why, thcie, now ! 
 
 Leii. But I suspect I can tell more at present, if you will but hear. 
 
 C/ie. 'Sdeath ! then why don't you? Speak! why don't you 
 speak? 
 
 Lull. Will you be silent ? I had a glimpse of Mordent this mo- 
 ment in conversation A\ith a vouth. 
 
 Che. AVell. 
 
 Len. It was the identical dress I sent as a disguise to Joanna. 
 
 Che. How ! I 
 
 Len. And I suspect that vrrj' youth to be Joanna herself. 
 
 C'Ac {Recolh'ctiii'j himself.') Eh! how? By Heaven, and so it 
 is ! ( With aiifjer and fear.) In the possession of Mordent : 
 
 Len. Be patient : there is a secret — his claims supersede all others. 
 
 Che. His claims ! By every power of heaven and hell 
 
 Len. {^Catching his arm.) Be patient, I tell you. She is his 
 daxighter. 
 
 Che. (^ After a pause.) Joanna — my sweet Joanna his daughter? 
 
 Len. Even so. 
 
 Che. His daughter ? Hurrah ! My dear Lennox ! — {Hugging 
 him in his arms.) Hurrah! O Lord ! O Lord ! (Li ecstasy.) Hur- 
 rah! His daughter? Ilmrah ! hunah ! hun-ah ! {Exeunt, Jj.) 
 
 Scene II. — A Boom in the House of Mordent. 
 
 Enter Mordent and Joanna, l. 1 i;. 
 
 Mor. My dear girl, your rare endowments surpass my hopes ; and, 
 convinced as I am that beauty is destructive, and 'i\"isdom impotent, I 
 joy to find you thus adorned. 
 
 Jna. Wait to know me better ; I fear you would prize me above 
 my worth. 
 
 Mor, How shall I reward it ! Fool that I am ! madman that I 
 have been I 
 
 Joa. (Rapturously kissing his hand.) Tliis is my lich reward ! 
 
 Mor. I have told you in part my desperate situation. If Grime 
 would but give honest evidence ! but of that there is little hope. 
 
 Joa. My greatest fear arises fi'om what yo\i have said of Lady 
 Anne. I must not, will not be the cause of separation. 
 
 Mor. Let mc do her justice. Her errors have been of my owni cre- 
 ation ; I have spumed at the kindness I did not desci-ve ; her for- 
 bearance at my conduct has been my astonishment and my torture. 
 
 Joa. O that I could see you recoucUtd ! O that I could gain the 
 love of such a lady ! 
 
 Mir. Of that, sweet girl, you are certain. Lennox is with her, 
 and by this she knows your storj', and, I am sui"e, adores your virtue.
 
 6CEXE n.] FASHION AXD I'KEIJNG. 49 
 
 Ladij A. {Without, v..) Where Ls she ? 
 Mor. I heai- her. 
 
 Enter L.vdt Axxe, k. 1 e. 
 
 Lady A. (n. c.) O, noble girl! {Uunning atid embracing Jo- 
 txxA.) Forgive tliis rude tumult of affection, which I cannot re- 
 strain, 
 
 Joa. (c.) Is it pcssible? 
 
 Lady A . Mr. Mordent, -with such a child as this restored to your 
 arms, and thus restored to youi'self, you are a million fold more dear 
 to me than ever. 
 
 Mor, (l. c.) I cannot bear it ! 
 
 Lady A. "Will you be my daughter, too ? Dare ye own me for a 
 mother, and find in my heart the affection of that one you have lost ? 
 "SVill you r 
 
 Joa. Adversity I could endvne, but . this unhoped-for tide of bless- 
 ings overpowers me. 
 
 Mor. O, how I hate myself ! 
 
 Lady A. No, no — 'tis not yourself yoii hate ; 'tis that life which 
 never emanated from yourself. Be but the Mordent who first Avon 
 my love, exert but the energies and feelings of yom- own heart, and 
 you will find the power to be great and good. 
 
 Enter Cheveril, l. 1 e. 
 
 Che. {Running to Joamna.) My life ! my soul ! my precious 
 Joanna ! 
 
 Mor. They will persuade nie presently that happiness is possible. 
 You have cause, child, to thank iSIr. Cheveril. 
 
 Joa. O, yes ; he has a heart of the noblest stamp. 
 
 Mor. Ay, every body's right ! All angels except myself! 
 
 Che. Come, come, guardian, dismiss these sombre reflections ; they 
 have plagued you long enough. Clement is in eager search of you, to 
 communicate secrets of the utmost importance conccming his uncle 
 Item. 
 
 Mor. The villain ! 
 
 Che, Yes, I hear him — he is below, half distracted, foaming with 
 rage, and accusing every sers'ant in the house with having stolen his 
 book. Pray keep back, my sweet Joanna, but for a moment ; and we 
 may, perhaps, have evidence fi-om his own lips. {Exeunt, r.) 
 
 Enter Item, c. d. f. 
 
 Item. (Looking about eageriy.) 'Tis gone — 'tis lost! I am un- 
 done — I am murdered — am betrayed ! I shall be prosecuted, pil- 
 loried, fined, cast in damages, obliged to pay all, to refund all, to 
 relinquish all ! — all — all — all ! — I'll hang myself ! I'll drown my- 
 self ! I'll cut my throat ! ^Mordent has got it I all my secrets, all ray 
 projects, all my rogueries, past, present, and to come ! O that I had 
 
 never been bom ! O that 
 
 5
 
 CO THE STliWARD ; OR, [ACT V. 
 
 Enter Clemknt, i,. 1 v.. 
 
 Item. {Running in him.) Have you seen my book? — Give it to 
 me ! — Where's my book r 
 
 Ck: What book r 
 
 Item. My aeeount book — my secrets — myself — my soul — my 
 heart's blood ! (iScfc*;/^ Clement's cow^ lap, and searching.) I have 
 it ! 'tis here ! I feel it ! 
 
 Cle. {^Disengaging himself.) Yes, sir, 'tis here; be pacified. 
 
 Item. {Assaulting him.) I won't — I won't! I'll have it! — 
 Give it me ! — I'll swear a robbery — I'll have you hanged ! 
 
 Cle. {Taking a book, sealed up, out of his coat pocket.) This book, 
 sir, I consider as a sacred trust ; and part with it to you I must not. 
 
 Item. You shall part with it, villain ! you shall ! {Seizing him 
 furiously.) I'll have your soul ! — 'tis mine ! — I'll have your heart ! 
 
 — 'tis mine ! I will have it ! I will have it ! I will have it ! 
 
 Cle. {Throioing him off.) You shall have my heart, life, and soul 
 first! 
 
 Item. {Falling on his knees.) My dear nephew — my good boy 
 
 — my kind Clement ! I'll supply all your wants ! I'll pay all your 
 debts ! Ill never deny any thing you ask ! I'll make yoi} my heir ! 
 You shall marry my patron's daughter — possess her fortune ! Now 
 give it me — I'm sure you will ! 
 
 Cle. You are the agent of Mr. IMordent, whom, I fear, you have 
 deeply wronged. I have a painful duty to perlbrm, but justice must 
 be obeyed. Nothing must or shall bribe me to betray an injured man. 
 
 Item. I'll give you ten thousand pounds — I'll give you twenty — 
 I'll give you Hfty ! Would you rob and ruin your uncle ? — Would 
 you put him in the pillory r — Would you see him hanged ? (Seizing 
 him again.) Villain ! I will have it ! — 'tis mine ! I will — I will ! 
 Thieves ! robbers ! murder ! fire ! 
 
 Enter Mordext, Lady Axne, Lenxox, Joaxna, Cheveril, Jonathai^ 
 WiXTER, and Grime, r. 1 e. 
 
 Mnr. {Having received the book, from Clement.) I am glad, Mr. 
 Item, that yoixr inattention, and your nephew's inflexible honesty, 
 have afforded me the means of doing myself justice. This is all I 
 require. 
 
 Leti. Here is a double testimony — your handwriting and your 
 agent. 
 
 Item. { To Grime.) Have you impeached, then ? 
 
 Grime. I am a villain, a rascal, a cutthroat ! 
 
 Mor. You, Mr. Clement, and you, Winter, I know not how to 
 repay. 
 
 Joa. (To Winter.) My watchful guide ! my never-failing friend ! 
 
 Che. {To'Wtnter, taking his hand.) Your hand, old boy ! you and 
 I must settle accoimts. I am I know not how many score pounds a 
 year in your debt. 
 
 Mor. What, then, am I ? 
 
 Joa. And I ?
 
 SCEXE II.] FASHION- .VXD FEELIXG. 51 
 
 Win. If you -wad pay old Jonathan "Winter, it mustn't be wi' ye'er 
 dirty money ; no, no. It niun be v,i' your ati'cctions. 
 
 Joa. True, my noble protector ! ( Takiny Ids hand, and kissing it 
 f.rcenthj.) 
 
 Win. Why, now, ay ! that's a receipt in full ; and it maks my 
 heart gi' sic a bang, as it han't had sin' you war lost ! 
 
 Mor. Honest, ■worthy soul ! And now to reconcile 
 
 Che. Come, come, make no speeches ; I"ll settle the business — I 
 am the proper person. I have eight thousand a year, and ten thou- 
 sand in my pocket. Ten ! ( To Item.) Is it ten or seventeen ? 
 
 Item. Seventeen ! 
 
 Joa. {To Item.) AVhat, not a word for your pretty Joanna? not 
 a word, Mr. Item, against the young whipper-snapper, and in favor of 
 persons of your own age ? 
 
 Item. (Aside.) Entrapped — betrayed in every quarter! The 
 man whom I raised from squalid ])ovcrty ; the nephew whom I have 
 
 supported ; the woman who Ha I may the curses of Item mingle 
 
 ■with their triumph ! (}sIordf.st (jazes at him — his features turn from 
 mnlecolence to obsequiousness.) Mr. Mordent, don't be too hasty — 
 don't condemn me unheard ! 
 
 Mor. Away, serpent ! betrayer of my dearest confidence ! I can- 
 not look on thee without horror, when I think on what might have 
 been the consequences of your villany. A^^^ay ! 
 
 Item. (Aside, looking all round.') No hopes from subterfuge. 
 Then, law, I'll try thee ! (Exit, l.) 
 
 Che. Good by, old Cent per Cent ! waddle away like a lame duck 
 from the Exchange, leaA'ing behind you happiness above par, and 
 roguery at a discount ! Lennox, as a bachelor's penance, shall marry 
 his housemaid. — (To Grime.) You, old Moloch, go hang yourself ! 
 Joanna, my queen of the Green Park, you must be my wife ; Mordent, 
 you must be my father ; Lady Anne, you must be my half mamma. 
 Eight thousand a year shall settle scores with Clement and old Hon- 
 estv here ; so away ^^■ith frowns, and welcome smiles — smiles that 
 ■will never be wanting while we can reflect them from those where 
 their appearance is most welcome ! 
 
 Grime. Wix. Len. Joa. Che. Lady A. Moe. Cle. 
 
 E.] [L. 
 
 CURTAIN.
 
 THE MINOR DRAMA. 
 
 THE ACTIXG EDITION. 
 
 No. CXXXIX. 
 
 IS HE JEALOUS? 
 
 A FABCE, IN ONE ACT. 
 
 BY BK^^SKLEY. 
 
 TO WRICR ABC A.CDED 
 
 A DejcrlpUon of the Costume— Cist of the Characters— Entrances and Exit* > 
 
 Belattve Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and 
 
 the whole of the Stage Business. 
 
 A3 PERFORMED AT THE PRIXCIPAIi 
 
 ENGLISH AND AMERICAN THEATRES. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH, 
 
 122 Nassau Street, (Up SrAiRS.)
 
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 IS HE JEALOUS1 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Drawing -Room in Belmour''s House — a 
 door leading to Belmour^s study, r. f. — another, lead- 
 ing to Mrs. Belmour's boudoir, l. f. — a pianoforte — a 
 sofa, c. — a light nearly expiring on the table — a win- 
 dow, looking into the street, l. s. e. — day-light. 
 
 Rose discovered sleeping upon the sofa, with her work in 
 her hands. 
 
 Belmour. [Ringing the bell, and calling from his study, 
 R. F.] Williams ! Williams ! Williams I I say ! 
 
 Rose. [ Waking and gaping.'] Eh ! what ? my master 
 calling ? Why, it is day-light, as I'm alive, and my mis- 
 tress not yet returned 1 Ah ! if my master were awa- 
 kened thus early by love instead of study ! — But there he 
 sits in that room among his musty old books, while he suf- 
 fers my handsome mistress to spend all her time by her- 
 self in that pretty boudoir of hers, from which he can al- 
 most hear her sigh for him ; yet they say he loves her. — 
 Well, I can't think it, or he would never see with indif- 
 ference the young and handsome Mr. Percival perpetually 
 with her, at the theatre, balls, and every where. — 
 Wrapped up in study, he seems to forget that even my 
 mistress is flesh and blood. He defied her yesterday to 
 make him jealous, and swore it was impossible he could 
 ever be so. \_Gaping.'] Oh, lord 1 I am ver.y sleepy ! — 
 While ladies are dancing away, they seldom think of their 
 poor ser^'ants, who are sitting up for them at home. 
 
 [^Rising 
 SONG.— Rose. 
 
 Oh, would I were some lady bright. 
 To dance away the live long night, 
 
 Through pleasure's maze to roam I 
 In opera, ball, or masquerade. 
 Instead of lowly waiting-maid. 
 
 To gape away at home.
 
 10 IS HE JEALOUS ? [_ACT I. 
 
 Oh, then, how gay to dance away 
 To opera, ball, or crowded play, 
 
 Deck'd out in gaudy clothes ! 
 To dance and shine so gay and finev 
 And make a thousand lovers pine 
 
 To win the heart of Rose ! 
 While waltzing here, chasseingtherc^ 
 •Twould be, " Was ever girl so fair. 
 
 So fair and fine as Rose !" 
 Partners pleasing— fingers squeezing 
 Now poussetting, now coquetting ; 
 Through fan spying, lovers sighing,— 
 
 Was ever bliss so rare 
 As waltzing here, chasseing there ; 
 While each one says, " No girl so fair* 
 
 So fair and fine as Rose !" 
 
 Well, this is the first time my mistress has ever stayed out 
 in this way, however ; perhaps she may at last give him 
 cause to be jealous. Yes, yes, with the Argus eyes of a 
 wa->ting-maid, I see how it will end : intrigue, plot — I see 
 it all ! \_A noise heard in the study."] Ah, he is coming ! 
 I must not for the world let him know my mistress has 
 been out all night. 
 
 Enter Belmour, r. d. f., with a volume in his hand. 
 
 Bel. [^Reading.'] " Trifles, light as air, 
 
 Are to the jealous confirmations strong 
 As proofs 0/ holy writ." 
 This axiom is indeed a just censure upon the weakness of 
 a jealous mind : and does Elizabeth suppose mine could 
 ever admit of such a feeling ? Never I 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Don't be too sure. 
 
 Bel. (r. c.) That husband is indeed deserving of pity, 
 who, harbouring suspicion in his breast, turns an indefati- 
 gable Argus in his anxious watchings, and becomes the 
 very shadow of his wife. 
 
 Rose, (c.) True, sir; too much suspicion may offend 
 our sex, but too great security is quite as displeasing to 
 us, I assure you. The husband, whose jealousy would 
 see every thing, exposes himself to the danger he fears ; 
 but he who sees nothing, exposes himself still more. To 
 speak plainly, sir, I think you play a hazardous game. 
 
 Bel. To any one but me. Rose, I confess, your opinion 
 might be applicable ; but I know my Elizabeth : if she be 
 occupied by gaieties, they are innocent ; she pursues them 
 to amuse herself, not to deceive me. Ought I to trans* 
 form the marriage ring into a chain of bondage ? 
 
 Rose. Certainly not, sir.
 
 SCENE I.] IS HE JEALOUS? 11 
 
 Bel. She always returns early, and quits the giddy 
 throng with favourable dispositions towards the retirement 
 of her own home. My friend Percival, who knows so 
 well how to combine amusement with philosophy, always 
 attends her. 
 
 Hose. [Aside.'\ Lord, lord ! was ever such a man 1 
 Bel. May I wake your mistress, Rose ? 
 Rose. It is yet very early, sir ; my mistress was very 
 tired last night, sir. Pardon me, sir, but I think she had 
 better sleep a little longer, sir. 
 
 Bel. I will wait, then, till she rings. 
 JRose, [Aside.^ You will wait some time, tnen, fancy. 
 Bel. No, no : a few hours spent in amusement, at her 
 age, preserve and occupy the elasticity of youth ; and you, 
 for such a trifle, would have me jealous I I am as sure of 
 my wife as I am of myself; our love and confidence is 
 mutual. She sleeps beyond her usual hour this morning ; 
 I must steal silently to her pillow, and snatch one kiss 
 from her rosy lips as she sleeps. 
 
 Sose. [^Stopping him.'] Oh no, sir, you had better not : 
 my mistress was very tired when she went to bed — she 
 
 was, indeed, sir ; and, besides, she had a — a 
 
 Bel, Well, well ; I will not disturb her. 
 Rose. \_Aside.'\ Thank heaven 1 
 
 Bel. I will occupy myself till she awakes with this pro- 
 blem, which Percival has given me to solve ; he has found 
 it too difficult. \^Sits, and reads 
 
 Rose. lAside."] Lord, lord! I wish he'd go! [Aloud.] 
 You'll be less interrapted in your study, sir. 
 Bel. No, no, I am very well here ; be quiet. 
 Rose. [Aside.] That he may occupy himself with his 
 wife, Mr. Percival gives my master a more difficult pro- 
 blem to solve than woman ; while he — Oh, I see it all ! — 
 [^A noise of a carriage heard without — Rose looks out of 
 the window, l.] As I am alive, my mistress ! What shall 
 I do now ? [To Belmour, anxiotisly .] You would be much 
 better in your own room, sir — indeed you would ! 
 Bel. No, no ; let me alone. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] The devil take the problem ! My mis- 
 tress will come in; — all will be known 1 Oh, I see it all i 
 [Aloud.] The servants will be wanting to clean the room, 
 sir, and you'll be in the way. [A knocking at the door, i» 
 Bel. Ah 1 who can that be so early ? 
 Rose. [Aside.] I shall die of fright 1 
 Bel. See who it is, Rose.
 
 12 IS HE JEALOUS? [aCT I. 
 
 Rose. It's nobody, sir. 
 
 Bel. Oh, let him ia. 
 
 Rose. 'Tis some mistake — some runaway knock, sir, 
 most likely. 
 
 Bel. Look who it is, I say. 
 
 Rose. It is Mr. What's-his-name ? — Mr. — Oh, lord I 
 I've forgotten his name. 
 
 Bel. IRisinff and going towards the window, but is 
 stopped by Rose."] I must see myself, then. 
 
 \_Knocking heard again. 
 
 Rose. It is Mr. Percival, sir, 
 
 Bel. Ah, anxious about his problepi, I suppose : he 
 never suffers his pleasures to interrupt his studies. I am 
 nearly ready for him. [Knocking.'\ I'll to my study for a 
 pen. Quick ! run and admit Mr. Percival ; I will be with 
 him in a few minutes. [Exit into his study, r. d. f. 
 
 Rose. Thank heaven, he is gone I 
 
 Mrs. Belmour. [ Without, l.] I believe you are right, 
 Mr. Percival ; I will follow your advice. Send her, there- 
 fore, the moment she arrives ; make haste, or you'll be 
 too late. Farewell ! 
 
 Rose. Ah 1 she dismisses Mr. Percival in haste ; she 
 fears lest my master should see him. Oh, it is cleax — I 
 see it all I Poor Mr. Belmour 1 
 
 Enter Mrs. Belmour, i,. 
 
 Mrs. B. Why, all the men were asleep, I think. I 
 knocked three times. 
 
 Rose. [In a low tone."] Hush, ma'am I speak lower. 
 
 Mrs. B. [Loztdly.] Speak lower ! — For what reason ? 
 
 Rose. [Pointing to the door of the study.'] My master 
 is there, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs.'B. Ah ! in his study so early ? What can engage 
 such particular attention ? 
 
 Rose. A problem, madam. 
 
 Mrs. B. He is a problem himself, I think. Do you 
 know why he did not join me at Mrs. Wildishes' ball ? 
 
 Rose. He was hard at work with his books. , 
 
 Mrs. B. Books, books ! nothing but books 1 They are 
 his business, his pleasure, his every thing. Was he un- 
 easy at my absence ? 
 
 Rose. Not at all, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. Did he sit up for me long ? 
 
 Rose. Ob, no, ma'am; he went to bed at bis usual 
 hour. 
 
 i
 
 SCiJNE 1.1 IS HE JEALOUS? 13 
 
 Mrs. B. Heigho ! what a strange mortal 1 Has he en- 
 tered my apartment this morning ? 
 
 Ross. [^Cunningly.'] Oh, no, ma'am : he wished it, but 
 I knew how to hinder him. 
 
 Mrs. B. Hinder him ! — And why should you hinder 
 him ? 
 
 Rose. {Mysteriously. 1 I told him you were asleep, 
 ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. {Loudly, and surprised.] Asleep ! 
 
 Rose. Yes yes : for heaven's sake, speak lower ! 
 
 Mrs. B. What I I have passed the night out, and he 
 does not even know of it ? 
 
 Rose. No, madam ; he has not the least idea of such a 
 thing, I managed it so well. 
 
 Mrs. B. [Angrily and proudly.] And by what autho- 
 rity did you use this management ? Did I order you to 
 be silent ? Know, for the future, that such conduct is in 
 the highest degree displeasing to me ; and, if you value 
 my favour, you will never repeat it. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Was ever such ingratitude I [AloudJ] 
 Lord, ma'am 1 I thought to oblige you by it. 
 
 Mrs. B. You have seriously oflFended me. 
 
 Rose. Ah, madam, pray pardon me ; such an intention 
 was the farthest from my thoughts, believe me. 
 
 Mrs. B. Remember, for the future, that nothing mys- 
 terious must ever attach itself to my conduct. 
 
 Rose. No, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. Mystery implies guilt, and authorizes suspicion. 
 
 Rose. Yes, ma'am. 
 
 M7'S. B. To atone for your fault, go instantly and tell 
 Mr. Belcour that I am but this moment arrived. Do you 
 hear me ? 
 
 Rose. Ma'am 1 
 
 Mrs. B. Obey me, then, instantly. 
 
 Rose. Yes, ma'am. [Aside.] Oh, lord ! was ever such 
 a woman ? [Exit angrily into the study, R. d. f. 
 
 Mrs. B. It is but too plain : neither to come to me, nor 
 to wait for me 1 to sleep peaceably in my absence ! to leave 
 me a whole night besieged by a thousand coxcombs ! — 
 Free from all suspicion, and happy in his solitary pursuits, 
 in his learned retreat he forgets his Elizabeth. Heigho ! 
 I can suffer it no longer : in cultivating the head, he for- 
 gets the heart. I must try and rouse him from this le- 
 thargy of indifference ; yes, Percival, I will follow your 
 advice — I will try him : my sister, who arrives this day, 
 »
 
 14 ISHEJEAIiOUS? IaCT I. 
 
 will answer my purpose. Let me see what time she will 
 be here. [Talcing out a letter, and reading it."] " At 
 length, my dear Elizabeth, I have settled my late husband's 
 affairs. I am free, am arrived in England, a young and 
 not unhandsome widow. My old general, you know, teas 
 my father's choice; my next shall be my own. Obliged 
 to travel alone on the Continent, where such things are 
 not so uncommon as in our own prudent country, I have 
 made my journey in disguise ; and being yet unwilling to 
 put off what are frequently the only attributes upon which 
 the other sex claim their superiority, I will show you what 
 a spruce beau your sister Harriet makes, before J resume 
 my own clothes.'^ Ah, spruce enough, my wild sister ! — 
 The very thing to play the part of a dangerotis lover. 
 [Reading.'] " I shall be at home on the lOM, early in the 
 morning, where I shall expect you to welcome me — your 
 sister Harriet." This is the very morning: Percival is 
 gone to meet her, and explain our plan ; and heaven 
 grant that I may be made happy by making my husband 
 jealous I 
 
 Re-enter Hos-e, pushed out of the study door, b. r. 
 
 Rose. Was ever such madness ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Well, Rose, is Mr. Belmour coming ? 
 
 Rose, No, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. Have you not told him I am waiting ? 
 
 Rose. Oh, yes, ma'am ; I told him often enough, and 
 loud enough. 
 
 Mrs.B. Well! 
 
 Rose. His arms crossed, his head buried up to his ears 
 in his shoulders, his eye fixed upon the Turkey carpet, he 
 muttered some words in a low voice. For my part, I 
 think he is possessed, and that it was the devil that spoke 
 within him. "My mistress is arrived," says I — not a 
 word. " She is waiting for you," says I again — still si- 
 lent, " She is impatient to see you," cried I, as loud as 
 I could bawl in his ear. He started up, looked terribly 
 angry, seized me by the shoulders, shook the breath out 
 of my body, banged me out of the room, and sat down 
 quietly again to his mathematics, as though nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 Mrs. B. This is too much ! 
 
 Rose. I am sure, ma'am, my master is crazed. 
 
 Mrs. B. It is indeed time that I should attempt his 
 cure. [A knocking at the door.
 
 SCENE I.] IS HE JEALOUS? 15 
 
 Rose. Ah ! somebody knocks. [Exit, L* 
 
 Mrs. B. It is my sister. 
 
 Re-enter Rose, gaily, l. 
 
 Rose. La, ma'am ! here's such a handsome young stran- 
 ger asking for you, and impatient to see you. 
 
 Mrs. B. Show him in. 
 
 Rose. He is coming, ma'am. [^Looking off, i,.] Well, 
 how genteel he is ! 
 
 Harriet. [Sjjea/cing without, in a familiar but foppish 
 tone of voice.'] Up stairs ? — Very well ; I'll find her ; 
 don't trouble yourself, friend. 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, 'tis she I 
 
 Enter Harriet, in men^s clothes, l. — She approaches to 
 embrace Mrs. Belmour, who points to Rose — Harriet 
 stops suddenly, and affects confusion aud mystery. 
 
 Mrs. B. [After a pause.'] Leave us. Rose. 
 
 Rose. [Withotit moving.'] Yes, ma'am. [Aside.] Who 
 can it be ? Now I shall hear emd see every thing. 
 
 Mrs. B. Leave us, I say ; nor return to the drawing- 
 room till I call you. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Dear, dear ! I shall hear and see no- 
 thing ! [Alotid.] Yes, ma'am. [Aside.] Oh, I see it all— 
 my poor master ! [Exit, l. 
 
 Mrs. B. At length, then, you are here ; my heart is 
 happy once more to embrace my dear Harriet ; I was im- 
 patient to see you. 
 
 Har. Your impatience could not exceed mine: seas 
 have divided us for years. I am an old campaigner, but, 
 tired of the wars, I am returned with joy to my native 
 country, and will inhabit no place which is not occupied 
 by my charming sister. 
 
 Mrs. B. Well, then, let ns to our project ; time presses. 
 
 Har. Oh, I am quite au fait : Percival has told me 
 your case, and I have undertaken the cure. A husband 
 dare determine not to be jealous ! We'll see — we'll try 
 him, and be revenged ! To be so indifferent within a year 
 after marriage ! it makes me bum with indignation. But 
 first tell me — shall I do ? have I the airs and graces of a 
 pretty fellow — of such a fellow, now, as one of the thou- 
 sand butterflies who flutter round married women, with no 
 hope but that of making husbands uncomfortable, no tri- 
 iiraph but making them jealous, — without any other mo- 
 tive than making themselves notorious, and often without 
 b2
 
 lb IS HE JEALOUS? [ACT I. 
 
 any other result than making themselves ridiculous ?— 
 Well, d'ye think I shall do ? 
 
 Mrs. B. It is impossible to be better : the more I exa- 
 mine you, the more I doubt if I am really speaking to my 
 sister Harriet. 
 
 Har. Let the enemy appear, then, and we will soon 
 gain the victory. Where is he ? 
 
 Mrs. B. As usual, in his study. Ah ! he comes. 
 
 Enter 'BELyiovRfrom his study, n. d. f., with a paper in 
 his hand, which he is reading — he appears animated 
 with pleasure at having solved the problem, and passes 
 be/ore his wife and Harriet to the front, without see- 
 ing them. 
 
 Bel. At length it is solved : as A is to B, so is B to C. 
 
 Mrs. B. He is so wrapped up in his mathematics, that 
 he has not even seen us. 
 
 Bel. And as B is to C, so is the square of A K. Yes, 
 'tis correct — quite correct ! 
 
 Mrs. B. [Advancing with Harriet towards Belmour.'] 
 Mr Belmour! 
 
 Bel. [Still reading the paper.'\ Pardon me, my dear 
 Elizabeth ; I really did not perceive you. What is be- 
 come of Percival ? 
 
 Mrs. B. He accompanied me home,- but departed in- 
 stantly. 
 
 Bel. Gone ! without his problem ! I hope he will re- 
 turn presently. [ Contemplating his paper. '\ What a com- 
 plete solution ! — So concise, yet so clear 1 
 
 Mrs.B. [Apart to Harriet.^ His brain is certainly turned. 
 
 Har. What a happy species of insanity ! I should en- 
 joy it in a husband of mine amazingly. 
 
 Mrs. B. And I am enraged at it. 
 
 Har. He pays me no more attention than if I were a 
 piece of furniture. [Advancing and bowing to Belmour.^ 
 I have the honour, sir 
 
 Mrs. B. [Apart to Harriet.'] A little louder. 
 
 Har. 1 say, sir, I have the honour to see 
 
 Bel. [Still at his problem.'} What perception ! what 
 perspicuity 1 
 
 Har. [Lavghing."] Ha ! ha 1 — He sees, he hears no- 
 thing ! It was thus, I suppose, that Archimedes dreamed 
 in Syracuse, while Marcellus took the city. 
 
 Mrs. B. Think rather of revenging me, thaa laughing 
 at him.
 
 SCENE l.J IS HE JEALOUS? 17 
 
 Har. lApproaching Behnour.'] Sir, I have the ho- 
 nour 
 
 Bel. [Starting.'] Ah ! a stranger ! 
 
 Mrs. B. It is a young and learned relation and friend of 
 the family ; he is just returned from his travels, and I 
 thought you would be delighted to know him. He is 
 come to England expressly to — to renew his acquaintance 
 with me : knowing that, like yourself, he was fond of li- 
 terature and science, I have anticipated your wishes by 
 this introduction. 
 
 Bel. So young, and at an age when pleasure forms the 
 general object of pursuit, does your friend already culti- 
 vate and cherish the nobler arts ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, yes ; Hebrew, Greek, Algebra — everything. 
 
 Bel. 'Tis well : he is your friend — he must be mine. 
 
 [Offers his hand — Harriet takes Mrs. Belmour'' s. 
 
 Har. [Kissing Mi's. Belmour' s hand.] Ah, sir, you 
 must permit me, on the hand of your charming lady, to 
 thank her for her unmerited eulogy. 
 
 Bel. [Waiting till Harriet has done kissing Mrs. Bel- 
 mour's hand, which she does several times.^ Sir, I really 
 beg your pardon, but 
 
 Har. [With a careless, /oppish air.] You see I treat 
 Elizabeth without any ceremony. Educated together un- 
 der the same roof, we have contracted these little habits of 
 intimacy ; they go no farther, I assure you ; they need 
 not make you uneasy — oh dear, no, not at all ; need they, 
 Elizabeth ? [Looking and smiling at Mrs. Belmour, who 
 smiles iu return, while Belmour gradually assumes an ap- 
 pearance of surprise.] Don't you observe some resem- 
 blance between us — something analogous to fraternity .'^ 
 It is sympathy, all sympathy, I assure you — downright le- 
 gitimate sympathy. In .my travels, I could think of no- 
 thing, amidst the variety by which I was surrounded, but 
 Elizabeth ; my tender friendship decorated every land- 
 scape in imagination with her sylph-like form. [Mrs. Bel- 
 mour smiles.] Ah ! what a modest blush suffuses her lovely 
 cheek ! — What a charming smile plays around the dim- 
 ples of her lips ! The rose, caressed by the morning ze- 
 phyr, is not more sweet, more fresh 1 
 
 SONG.— Harriet. 
 
 Nature, with her fairy finger. 
 
 Never gave the blushing rose 
 Tints so warm as those which linger 
 
 Where thy lovely cheeks repo8e> 
 B 3
 
 1^5 19 HE JEALOUS? [aCT 1. 
 
 Toiling slaves, of freedom dreaming, 
 
 Never drew from eastern mine 
 Diamonds lialf so briglitly beaming, 
 
 As tiiose sparkling eyes of tliine. 
 
 Mr». li. [CoquettiMy.'] Ah ! now you flatter me t 
 
 Bel. \_Aside.'\ Am I awake ? 
 
 Har. To find modesty thus united with beauty, is in- 
 deed a rarity. Upon my faith, I see London is the place 
 at last to form the complete woman ; for, without compli- 
 ment, I find you amazingly improved since you have 
 quitted our shades of rustic retirement. It is a year, I 
 think, since we were used to wander through the groves, to 
 listen to the tender nightingale ; yes, a year since, when, 
 enraged at your departure, I quitted home within an hour 
 after you left the village. Your absence deprived it of 
 every attraction. Since that period, I have trod upon 
 classic ground ; contemplated the triumphal arches of 
 Roman conquerors, and wept upon the tomb of Virgil ; 
 marched with a bounding heart over the plains of Marathon, 
 and pondered with a bleeding one upon the rock so fatal to 
 the tender Sappho. The capitals of Europe have, by turns, 
 been my residence ; men of literature, and women of beauty 
 and wit, have been my companions ; but I have traversed 
 the world in vain to find so many charms and delights as 
 are concentrated here. 
 
 Bel. Since London, sir, possesses your -favourable opi- 
 nion, perhaps it is your intention to settle among us, sir. 
 
 Har. A good guess — my project exactly. I never more 
 shall quit the spot inhabited by Mrs. Belmour. 
 
 [Smiles with Mrs. Belmour. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.li What does he mean ? Is this inexpe- 
 rience or folly, or merely an assumption of the levity of 
 foreign manners ? I begin not to like him. [Calling ' 
 Rose ! 
 
 Enter Rose, running, l. 
 
 Order the breakfast. 
 
 Rose. It is coming, sir. 
 
 Bel. [To Harriet. '\ You will, I trust, favour our break- 
 fast-table with your company? 
 
 Har. [Giving his hat and gloves to Rose.'] To be sure I 
 shall. Did you think I would not breakfast with you ? 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Free and easy, however. 
 
 Enter Servants, l. — they lay the hredkfast. 
 Har. By the bye, I intend taking up my quarters in town,
 
 ■CENE I.] IS HE JEALOUS? 19 
 
 at your friend Percival's ; but really it is so crowded with 
 Venuses, Apollos, Egyptian mummies, cauldrons, crucibles, 
 and electrifying machines, that I fear there will be no room 
 for me. I shall dread receiving an electric shock at the 
 touch of every bell-pull, and shall expect to be embraced 
 at every turn, by some of his spring-moving anatomies. 
 So that, [^Witk nonchalance.'] if quite convenient, I shall 
 be vastly happy to — take up — my — residence with — you — 
 during my stay in town. \A pause.'] Eh ! Mis — ter Bel— ^ 
 mour ? 
 
 Bel. [Aside, but heard by Rose.'] What! make my house 
 his home ? 
 
 Rose. Lord, sir, there's no doubt of that. His carriage 
 is already in the coach-house, liis horses in the stable, and 
 his servants in the attics. 
 
 Mrs. B. [Apart to Harriet.] To the life, my dear sis- 
 ter, to the life ! 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] Ah, they whisper ! — What new feeding is 
 this ? [Aloud.] Come, my love, the breakfast waits ; your 
 friend must need refreshment. 
 
 [Mr. Belmour presents his hand to Mrs. Belmour— 
 Harriet does the same — Mrs. Belmour hesitates, 
 and then takes Harriet's — Belmour starts with suv 
 prise, and attempts to take a chair, which Har- 
 riet draws from him. 
 
 Har. [Seating Mrs. Belmour, and taking her own seat at 
 the head of the table.] Come, Belmour — excuse my calling 
 you Belmour ; come, sit down. [Belmour sits — Harriet 
 makes the tea — his surprise iiicreases.] Now, sir, black or 
 green ? Mrs. Belmour, chocolate or coffee ? Lord, you 
 have no appetite, sir. You appear thoughtful, my lovely 
 ^riend. 
 
 Mrs. B. I was thinking of the possibility of making your 
 intended apartment agreeable. 
 
 Bel. [Ironically.] Really ! Had your friend done me 
 the honour to advise me of his intended visit, I should have 
 done my best endeavours to have accommodated him ; but 
 as it is— 
 
 Har. Oh, never mind — never mind ; you will not find 
 me over scrupulous. The humblest apartment — [To Mrs. 
 Belmour.] — near to you, madam, will be delightful; now 
 that, for instance, or that, or the blue room. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] Upon my word, he disposes of my house 
 AS though it were his own. 
 
 Mrs. B. You are amazingly good.
 
 20 IS HE JEALOUS? [aCT 1. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.'] Amazingly '. 
 
 Mrs. B. Will you indulge us with your society long ? 
 
 Bel. [Aside.'] Oh, no doubt ! 
 
 Har. Upon my honour, madam, my hopes of pleasure, 
 ■while domesticated with you, are so great, that, with your 
 permission, we will not anticipate a separation. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Lord help us ! what impudence ! 
 
 Bel. [Aside, But you are not yet domesticated, thank 
 heaven ! 
 
 Har. Then I shall, for the future, make your house my 
 home ; give my cards of address here ; order my parcels to 
 be diiected here ; dine my friends here, and all that. — 
 Upon my word, Belmour, you have such a way of putting 
 one at one's ease, that I am as much at home already, as 
 though I had been living here these twenty years. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] Astonishing impertinence ! 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Oh, it is a settled thing ; my mistress is 
 in the plot — 1 see it all 1 
 
 Mrs. B. Come, sir, you are a great voyager, and have 
 doubtless seen many things worthy of observation. 
 
 Har. Yes, madam, I have indeed seen much. In every 
 country I have associated with the philosopher, as well as 
 the courtier ; made love to the women, and raked with the 
 men ; danced fandangos with the Spaniards, waltzed with 
 the Germans, and cotillionized with the French ; and, at 
 ,the end of a long and perilous pilgrimage in the pursuit of 
 philosophy, I find that its best source is pleasure — that the 
 best pleasure is woman ; and if you wUl listen to my dull 
 finger on the piano, and my croaking voice will not disturb 
 the meditations of Mr. Belmour, you shall hear my senti- 
 ments in a song. 
 
 Mrs.B. Oh, by all means. [Goes to the piano with Harriet. 
 
 Har. [After playing a prelude.] Were my tongue to 
 describe the sensations of my heart at the sound of this 
 piano, it would say they arose because the keys were some- 
 times touched by the fair hand of Elizabeth. 
 
 Mrs. B. I play but little. 
 
 [She seats herself by the side of Harriet — Belmour, 
 who has been lost in thought, looks up, and cp- 
 pears troubled. 
 
 SONG.— Harriet. * 
 
 With study to fill up our leisure. 
 
 Let ancient philosophers preach; 
 Tis better to hll it with pleasure, 
 
 Both nature and sympathy teach.
 
 8CBNB I.J 18 HE JEALOUS ? 21 
 
 Believe me, the man is mistaken, 
 
 Who in books only finds his delight 
 No study to pleasure can waken 
 
 Like studying eyes that are bright. 
 
 If by physiognomy learning. 
 
 The mind through the features to tracC^ 
 
 Grave brows of philosophers spurning, 
 I'd study in woman's sweet face. 
 
 If astronomy's wonders had charms, sir. 
 
 My stars shouldn't be in the sky; 
 My Zodiac would be in her arms, sir, 
 
 ily planets would beam in her eye. 
 
 Mrs.B. Delightful! 
 
 Rose. [Aside.'] Ah, my mistress is pleased, and my 
 master is enraged. 
 
 Mrs. B. The verses, too, are delightful! 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] My master thinks otherwise: he'll be 
 jealous at last, thank heaven ! 
 
 [Exit with breaJcfast things, l. 
 
 Har. I am proud indeed of your approbation ; and if you 
 will deign to assist me in my studies, I think I shall soon 
 defy even Mr. Belmour himself to suppass me. 
 
 Mrs. B. There are many learned men whom I consider 
 estimable ; but if they resemble you, they would indeed be 
 irresistible. 
 
 Bel. [Aside, starting.] Ah, that observation was directed 
 at me I By heavens, she laughs at me 1 
 
 Har. Mr. Belmour is ill, I fear ; he appears agitated. 
 
 Bel. [With emotion.] Agitated! Oh, no — no, sir: it 
 is impossible to be otherwise than agitated agreeably, sir, 
 in your society. 
 
 Mrs. B. Oh, no ; it is his manner only : Mr. Belmour 
 is generally so wrapped up in study, that outward objects 
 are indifferent to him. He pursues the speculations of 
 his own mind in society, and — [Anxiously to Belmour.] 
 But you appear really ill, Mr. Belmour: perhaps — [In- 
 quiritigly .] perhaps you are jealous .' 
 
 Bel. Jealous 1 I jealous, madam ? What, of a boy — of 
 a boy ? No, no, madam ! 
 
 Mrs. B. [Coldly and disappointed.] A boy ! Oh, in 
 modern days, manhood commences early. Look through 
 society, who are our greatest libertines ? Your boys ! Who 
 are the danglers after your demireps of fashion? Your boys ? 
 But, perhaps, [Anxiously.] you may have an objection to 
 extend your hospitality so far as to admit my friend as an 
 inmate.
 
 22 IS HE JEALOUS? [aCT I. 
 
 Bel. lAside.'} I must hide these feelings, and appear 
 tranquil. [Aloud.} Oh, no, madam, quite the contrary ; I 
 Bhall be happy — very — ha — happy in his society. 
 
 Mrs. B. [To Harriet, disappointedly ."l Ah, he consents 
 to it. 
 
 Har. So much the better. 
 
 Mrs. B. But he is not jealous. 
 
 Har. Hush ! he observes us. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.'] Yes, yes, 'tis plain : there is some mys- 
 tery, some plot, some — surely I'm not jealous I 
 
 Har. [2'o Mrs. Belmour.] He begins to be uneasy ; I 
 see the first symptoms. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] And I am to admit him as an inmate, too ! 
 
 Har. [To Mrs. Belmour.'] Courage! The symptoms 
 redouble ; he talks to himself. 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] I must be satisfied ; I will interrogate 
 Percival. [Aloud.] You have known my friend Percival 
 for some time ? 
 
 Har. Oh, yes, from infancy. 
 
 Bel. He conducted you here ? 
 
 Har. Oh, no ; he was to much immersed in some phi- 
 losophical experiment — the decomposition of s'bme mineral 
 fluid. By the by — I beg ten thousand pardons, but he de- 
 sired me to say, that he was anxiously waiting your assist- 
 ance in the solution of some problem : you had better go. 
 
 Bel. Yes, true. You say he expects me ? I will go. 
 [Aside.] Shall I leave them together ? 
 
 Mrs. B. You will not be very long, I suppose, Mr. 
 Belmour .' 
 
 Bel. [Aside.'] Ah I she wishes me gone : she wants to 
 ascertain the moment of my return ; but I am not jealous I 
 [Aloud.] Perhaps you will accompany me, sir ? 
 
 [Anxiously trying to take Harriet with him, 
 
 Har. No, no, I am obliged to you ; I am vastly well 
 here — use no ceremony with me, I beg. Your Elizabeth 
 will find me entertainment ; you'd better go ; don't let me 
 detain you from your friend. • 
 
 Bel. [Aside.] Impudence ! — Elizabeth 1 — But I am not 
 jealous ! Yes, I will go, but will return and surprise 
 them. [Aloud.] Your pardon for lea\'ing you, but — 
 [Aside.] Jealous ! — Ridiculous ! — Yet 'tis very odd, all 
 this ! 
 
 Har. Oh, never mind — good morning ! You had bet- 
 ter make haste, or the fluid will be decomposed, and the 
 experiment over before your arrival. Good morning.
 
 SCENE I.] IS HE JEALOUS? ' 23 
 
 Bel. [Aside.} The coxcomb turns me out of my own 
 
 house ! — I am thunderstruck ! — But iis to jeeilousy, that's 
 
 too absurd an idea. Psha ! nonsense ! — I am not jealous I 
 
 [Exit L., but returns in a minute, and looks at Har- 
 
 riet and Mrs. Belmour. 
 
 Har. Weill 
 
 Bel. WeUl 
 
 Mrs. B. Are you come back for any thing ? 
 
 Bel. Yes ; I am come back for — I am come back— 
 [Aside.'] I am not jealous ! [Exit, hastily, u. 
 
 Mrs. B. You see it is of no use : he departs — he leaves 
 us together ! Such coldness, such indifference irritates 
 me more than I can express. After having absolutely 
 roused his suspicions, to leave ns thus t6te-a-t<jte is un- 
 bearable ! 
 
 Har. Curious enough, to be sure ! There are many 
 women, I fear, who would be delighted with so easy a hus- 
 band. 
 
 Mrs. B. 'Tis plain he loves me not. 
 
 Har. I am not so certain of that yet. 
 
 Mrs. B. What more can I do to prove it ? 
 
 Har. Stop ! an idea strikes me : if I recollect right, 
 your boudoir is so sacred to yoxu-self, that even he is sel- 
 dom admitted. 
 
 Mrs.B. True. 
 
 Har. We will enter it, and remain there tiu nis return. 
 If that does not rouse his jealousy, he is incorrigible, and 
 I give him up. 
 
 Mrs. B. [Alarmed.] I fear we shall go too fai 
 
 Har. 'Tis desperate, but the only means left ; and, the 
 better to deceive him, we will bribe your servant. 
 
 Mrs. B. I tremble 1 
 
 Har. Nonsense I it must be done ; [Looking off, l.] 
 and I see Rose coming. 
 
 [Harriet kisses Mrs. Belmour's hand ardently. 
 
 Enter Rose, l., and goes up. 
 
 Har. Oh, how sweet are such moments as these '. They 
 ve worth the rest of our lives ! 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Can I believe my eyes ? 
 
 Har. [Feigning surprise.] Ah I we are observed I So 
 much the better. Now place her quickly as a sentineL 
 
 Mrs. B. [Hesitating.] Rose ! 
 
 Hose. [Coming forward.] Ma — a — ml 
 
 Urs.B. [Still hesitating.] Rose I
 
 24 IS HE JEALOUS? [aCT I. 
 
 Har. Come, come, courage ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Is Mr. Belmour gone out. Rose ? 
 
 Hose, Oh, yes, ma'am ; he is already in the next street. 
 He went out in such haste, he forgot to take off his dress- 
 ing gown. \Aside.'\ What can all this mean ? 
 
 Mrs. B. Do you think he will be long absent ? 
 
 Rose. No doubt, ma'am : he is gone about his philo- 
 sophy business. 
 
 Mrs. B. True, true. Rose ; I know yoxur prudence ; I 
 can depend on your fidelity. 
 
 Rose. Oh, yes, ma'am, that you may. [Aside,'] I do 
 see it all now. 
 
 Mrs. B. I know it, dear Rose. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.'] Dear Rose 1 Oh, I can be useful here I 
 
 Mrs. B. My friend wishes much to see the drawings, 
 which he well remembers to have made when we were chil- 
 dren : they are in the boudoir. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] The boudoir ! [Aloud.] Yes, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. I wish to show them to him without — without 
 the danger of interruption. 
 
 Rose. Yes, ma'am. [Aside.] Oh, lord I I see it all ! 
 
 Mrs. B. You, my good Rose, stay here, and prevent 
 any body from — from 
 
 Har. You understand, my good Rose. Now, mind, 
 guard your post well ; be vigilant, and, above all, be dis- 
 creet. [Gives her a purse. 
 
 Rose. Yes, yes, sir. [Aside.] "Well, was ever — [Aloud.] 
 But my master, madam, should he return 
 
 Mrs. B. Your master I 
 
 Har. Detain him here : we would not be interrupted 
 for the world by him ; that would be vastly unpleasant ! 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Well, I am absolutely astounded 1 
 
 Har. Now, my lovely Elizabeth, the pictures ! 
 
 [Exeunt Harriet and Mrs. Belmour into the boudoir, 
 
 L. D. F. 
 
 Rose. His lovely Elizabeth ! — Lord ! lord ! — ^Well, I 
 never was so surprised ! — Lord ! I do believe they've 
 locked the door ! Oh, 'tis plain — 'tis clear ! Poor Mr. 
 Belmour ! poor Mr. Philosopher ! — Well, I can scarcely 
 believe my eyes, nor my ears, nor my tongue. [Looking 
 off, L.] Eh I what's that ? who is coming ? — My master, 
 as I'm alive ! — I shall die of fright ! 
 
 Re-enter Belmour, extremely agitated, h. 
 Bel. Known and loved each other from infancy 1 — Ten-
 
 SCENE I.J IS HE JEALOUS? 25 
 
 demess unabated 1 — Constancy unequalled ! — ^Would not 
 introduce him himself, and coming to put me on my 
 guard ! 
 
 Eose. [Aside."] What do I hear ? 
 
 Bel. Yes, yes, 'tis evident he is still beloved — that I am 
 deceived ! Oh, agonies till now unknown ! — What shall I 
 do ? where fly ? how revenge ? — I'll smother him I [Call- 
 iriff.'} Rose 1 Rose I 
 
 Rose. Here, sir. [Aside.'] Lord! I'm in such a tremble I 
 
 Bel. Cbme near ; [Passionately/.] come near, I say 1 
 
 Rose. [Tremblingi.] Ye — e — es, sir. 
 
 Bel. Where is your mistress ? 
 
 Rose. [Hesitatingly.] Who — o— o — o, sir ? — My mis— 
 is — tress, sir? 
 
 Bel. Answes me instantly — where is she ? 
 
 Rose. She is, sir — she is, sir — in the bou — ^bou — bou- 
 doir, sir. 
 
 Bel. [Approaching the door, l. f.] Ah ! 
 
 Rose. [Stopping him.] Sir, my mistress, sir — my mis- 
 tress 
 
 Bel. WeUl 
 
 Rose. Desired not to be interrupted, sir. 
 
 Bel. Ah ! a mystery ! — And this friend — this new 
 comer, where is he ? [Passionately.] Where is this cox- 
 comb, I say ? 
 
 Rose. Coc — oc — oc — oc — xcomb, sir ! 
 
 Bel. Your mistress's new friend — my would-be visitor ; 
 where is he ? — Answer me, or 
 
 Rose. [Terrified.] I will — I will, sir ; but I'm afraid 
 you'll be angry, sir. 
 
 Bel. [Restraining himself with difficulty.] No, no, I 
 am quite — quite cool. Speak, speak 1 
 
 Rose. He is — with my lady, sir. 
 . Bel. [Almost breathless.] What 1 in the bou — bou— 
 boudoir ? 
 
 Rose. Ye — e — s, sir. 
 
 Bel. Incredible audacity! But I will confound them. 
 [Going to the boudoir door.] Ah ! the door locked ! — 
 This is too much : heaven grant me patience 1 Stand 
 aside — stand aside, I say I — I will enter. 
 
 [Pushes Rose aside, then rushes to the door, which 
 opens, and discovers Mrs. Belmour and Harriet, 
 who re-enter — Belmour starts, and regards them 
 with fury. 
 
 Mrs. £. Ah I my husband I Fly, my friend 1
 
 26 IS HE JEALOUS? [act I. 
 
 Har. [With nonchalance.'] Fly! — \\Tiat, run away?— 
 No, no : his presence is not quite so redoubtable. 
 
 Bel. He adds insult to outrage I 
 
 Rose. For heaven's sake, leave her, sir 1 — His anger 
 will drive him to some act of violence. 
 
 Har. Oh, never fear : this is not the first time I have 
 had to encounter a jealous husband. 
 
 Rose. [Aside.'] There'll be murder — I see it all ! 
 
 Bel. Quit the house, sir, instantly ! quit th«r roof whose 
 hospitality you have violated ! I shall seek you at Perci- 
 val's, and you know what must follow. 
 
 Har. What, quit Elizabeth ! — No, no ; you will ill- 
 treat her : besides, why should you be so unreasonable as 
 to separate us ? 
 
 Rose. [Aside.] Lord I I tremble with fright at his im- 
 pudence ! 
 
 Bel. Quit the house instantlyj that my own floors may 
 not be stained with the blood my vengeance calls for ! 
 
 Har. Well, since you are at present a little warm 
 
 Bel. A little warm ! [Aside.] A little devil ! [Aloud.] 
 Quit my sight — quit my sight, I say ! lest my house prove 
 no longer a protection to its inmate. 
 
 Har. Don't go too far, Mr. Belraour. 
 
 Rose. [Dragging off Harriet .] Oh, come, sir ; for hea- 
 ven's sake, leave him ! — He is jealous. 
 
 [She continues to draw Harriet off during the foU 
 lowing trio, 
 
 TRIO. — Harriet, Rose, and Belhouk. 
 
 Har. Poor man, he is jealous at last ! 
 
 Bel. With fury my bosom's enraged. 
 
 Jiar. I'll return when your anger is pass'd: 
 Mrs. B., you'll be then disengag'd. 
 
 Har. fy-i Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 JRose. J Poor man, he is jealous at last I 
 
 Bel. 1 shall murder the fellow at last ! 
 
 Bel. Quit my sight— let me see him no longer ! 
 
 Har, Dearest madam, pray pinion him faat. 
 
 Bel. Than reason my passion is stronger. 
 
 Har. Poor man, be is jealous at last ! 
 
 Har. fy ■» Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Hose. J Poor man, be is jealous at last ! 
 Bel. I shall murder the fellow at last I 
 
 Bar% Ah ! now should you tell us 
 
 You'll never be jealous. 
 
 Such principles we will refute; 
 For evil's the hour 
 When man dares the power 
 
 Of woman supreme to dispute *
 
 . SCENE I.J IS ME JEALOUS? 9J 
 
 Bel. Quit my sight— let me see him no longer! 
 
 Hur, Dearest madam, pray pinion him fast 
 
 Bel. Than reason my passion is stronger. 
 
 Hur. Poor man, he is jealous at last ! 
 
 Kar. It \ Ha I ha ! ha ! 
 
 Rose. 1 Poor man, he is jealous at last! 
 Bel. I shall murder the fellow at last ! 
 
 [Exeunt Rose and Harriet, k. — Belmour falh into 
 G chair, 
 
 Mrs. B. [Aside."] Ah, I triumph ! — My douhts of his 
 love are dissipated. He is enraged, and I begin to be 
 happy. [Turning to her htisband.j Belmour 
 
 Bel. [Risinff.] Speak not a word 1 — Adieu, adieu, for 
 ever! [Goinff. 
 
 Mrs. B. Will you not listen to me ? One word will 
 restore you to tranquillity : you are deceived 1 
 
 Bel. Deceived ! — True ; I am deceived — wretchedly, 
 miserably deceived ! — But I will be revenged ! — Leave me, 
 madam ! quit my sight for ever 1 Your minion paramour 
 shall pay with his life the forfeit of your mutual guilt ; 
 while you shall linger on your miserable existence despised 
 by all, an outcas't from society I 
 
 Mrs. B. Nay, nay, whence comes this blind ungovern- 
 able fury .'—Where i6 your philosophy .' 
 
 Bel. [After a pause, in an agony of- passion."] I am 
 jealous ! 
 
 Mrs. B. [Joyfully.'] Then I am loved and happy I 
 
 Bel. Happy ! 
 
 Mrs. B. Yes, Belmour : did your know the happiness 
 these transports occasion me, you would have been jealous 
 long — long before. 
 
 Bel. Yes, madam, but I was deceived by your appear- 
 ances of virtue — deluded by your expressions of affection. 
 But I have discovered all : this friend, this cousin — (the 
 devil cozen him !) — was always beloved by you — always 
 preferred : opportunity Wcis only wanting to complete my 
 dishonour 1 But vengeance shall fall upon the devoted 
 bead 
 
 Re-enter Harriet, in an elegant satin dress, and Rose, b. 
 
 Har. Of your humble servant, I suppose. 
 
 Bel. What do I see .' 
 
 Mrs. B. My sister Harriet, whom you have often wished 
 as a companion to your Elizabeth. Can you forgive me 
 the deceit ? [They all laugh at Belmour. 
 
 Bel, A woman — a real woman ?
 
 29 IS HE JEALOUS? [aCT I. 
 
 Har. Yes, sir, a true woman, upon my honour. 
 
 Rose. I answer for that, sir, 
 
 Har. I suppose you will now consent a little mor« 
 cheerfully to my abode here. 'Twas but a ruse de mar- 
 riage, to revenge my sister for your indifference : let it be 
 a lesson for you not to defy the power of our sex to make 
 even a philosopher jealous. 
 
 Bel. I see it is not enough to love — we must also show 
 our affection. Like other philosophers, I confess your 
 fascinating power ; but beware how you use it wantonly, 
 lest the heart which you would only bend should break. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 Mrs. Belmour, Harriet, and Rose. 
 
 Then learn ye from this, each indifferent spouse^ 
 
 'Tis in vain of your passion to tell us ; 
 We ne'er can believe in the truth of your vows. 
 
 If our charms cannot render you jealous. 
 
 Belmour. 
 
 Then learn ye from this, each indifferent spoui% 
 
 What the women determine to tell us ; 
 They rie'er can believe in the truth of our vows. 
 
 If their charms cannot render us jealous. 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE 
 FALL OF THE CURTAIN. 
 
 Harriet. Mrs. B. Bel. Rose. 
 
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