Kill 
 
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/THE 
 
 GOOD-NATURED MAN 
 
 A COMEDY 
 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 / 
 
 it 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR 
 FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY 
 FREDERICK SIMPSON COBURN 
 
 GP PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 &he "Knickerbocker Press 
 
\ 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Croaker. "Death and destruction/ Are all 
 the horrors of the air, fire and water to be 
 levelled only at me /" . . Frontispiece 
 
 Garnet. " For being, as you are, in love with 
 Mr. Honeywood, Madam. " . . . 38 
 
 Miss Richland (alone). " Honeywood has de- 
 sired an interview with me in private. What 
 can he mean f or rather, what means this 
 palpitation at his approach?" 92 
 
 Postboy. " Here is the incendiary dog. " . 108 
 
 282472 
 
THE GOOD-NATURED MAN 
 
 A COMEDY 
 
 AS PERFORMED AT 
 
 THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN 
 
 London: Printed forW. Griffin, in Catharine Street, Strand, 1768. 
 8vo. Price is. 6</. 
 
The Good-Natured Man was first performed at Covent Garden 
 Theatre (then under the management of the elder Colman), 
 on the 29th of January, 1768; ran ten nights, and went 
 through at least five editions the same year. 
 
 Goldsmith seems to have taken the hint of Mr. Honeywood's 
 character (the Good-Natured Man of the piece) from " the 
 
 celebrated Mr. S , who, at that time, went by the name 
 
 of "the Good-Natured Man," the lover of the unfortunate 
 Miss Braddock, commemorated in his own Life of Nash. He 
 owned to Johnson, as Johnson informed Boswell, that he had 
 borrowed the character of Croaker from Suspirius in The 
 Rambler (No. 59). Mr. Forster has pointed out resemblances 
 in the 92nd Letter of The Citizen of the World. See Forster 's 
 Goldsmith, vol. ii, p. 58; ed. 1854. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 WHEN I undertook to write a comedy, I con- 
 fess I was strongly prepossessed in favour 
 of the poets of the last age, and strove to 
 imitate them. The term genteel comedy was then 
 unknown amongst us, and little more was desired 
 by an audience than nature ^nmmour, in what- 
 ever walks of life they wei^^Mdponspicuous. 
 The author of the following scenes never imagined 
 that more would be expected of him, and therefore 
 to delineate character has been his principal aim. 
 Those who know anything of composition are sen- 
 sible that, in pursuing humour, it will sometimes 
 lead us into the recesses of the mean. I was even 
 tempted to look for it in the master of a sponging- 
 house; but in deference to the public taste, grown 
 of late, perhaps, too delicate, the scene of the bail- 
 iffs was retrenched in the representation. 1 In de- 
 
 1 "The scene of the bailiffs" in the opening of the third act 
 appeared so broad in its humour as on the first night to keep the 
 fate of the piece some time in suspense; nor was its safety fully 
 secured till the fourth act, where Shuter, in the character of Croaker, 
 read the supposed incendiary letter. 
 
 5 
 
6 preface 
 
 ference also to the judgment of a few friends, who 
 think in a particular way, the scene is here restored. 
 The author submits it to the reader in his closet; 
 and hopes that too much refinement will not banish 
 humour and character from ours, as it has already 
 done from the French theatre. Indeed, the French 
 comedy is now become so very elevated and senti- 
 mental that it has not only banished humour and 
 Moliere from the stage, but it has banished all 
 spectators too. 1 
 
 Upon the whole, the author returns his thanks 
 to the public for the favourable reception which 
 The Good-Natured Man has met with; and to 
 Mr. Colman 2 in particular, for his kindness 
 
 * " Returning home one day from dining at the chaplain's table, 
 Mr. Johnson told me that Dr. Goldsmith had given a very comical 
 and unnecessarily exact recital there of his own feelings when his play 
 was hissed; telling the company how he went to the Literary Club 
 at night, and chatted gaily among his friends as if nothing had 
 happened amiss; that, to impress them still more forcibly with an idea 
 of his magnanimity, he even sung his favourite song about 'an old 
 woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon'; but 
 'all this while I was suffering horrid tortures,' said he, ' and verily 
 believe that if I had put a bit into my mouth, it would have strangled 
 me on the spot, I was so excessively ill; but I made more noise than 
 usual to cover all that; and so they never perceived my not eating, 
 nor I believe at all imagined to themselves the anguish of my heart ; 
 but when all were gone except Johnson here I burst out a-crying, 
 and even swore that I would never write again.' 'All which, Doctor, 
 said Johnson, amazed at his odd frankness, ' I thought had been a 
 secret between you and me; and I am sure I would not have said 
 anything about it for the world.' " MRS. PIOZZI'S Anecdotes, p. 245. 
 2 George Colman, senior, then the lessee of Co vent Garden 
 Theatre. 
 
preface 7 
 
 to it. It may not also be improper to assure any 
 who shall hereafter write for the theatre, that 
 merit, or supposed merit, will ever be a sufficient 
 passport to his protection. 
 

PROLOGUE 
 
 Written by Dr. Johnson, spoken by Mr. Bensley i 
 
 PRESS'D by the load of life, the weary mind 
 Surveys the general toil of human kind ; 2 
 With cool submission joins the laboring train, 
 And social sorrow loses half its pain : 3 
 
 1 Robert Bensley retired from the stage 6th of May, 1796, on 
 which occasion he acted Evander, in The Grecian Daughter, to 
 Mrs. Siddons's Euphrasia. He is now best remembered by the la- 
 boured eulogium of Lamb, in his delightful essay, On Some of the 
 Old Actors. 
 
 2 "The first lines of this prologue are strongly characteristic 
 of the dismal gloom of Johnson's mind; which in his case, as in the 
 case of all who are distressed with the same malady of imagination, 
 transfers to others its own feelings. Who could suppose it was to 
 introduce a comedy when Mr. Bensley solemnly began 
 
 Tress'd by the load of life, the weary mind 
 Surveys the general toil of human kind ' ? 
 
 But this dark ground might make Goldsmith's humour shine the 
 more." BOSWELL, by CROKER, p. 189. 
 
 a "After this line the following couplet was inserted: 
 'Amidst the toils of this returning year, 
 When senators and nobles learn to fear t 
 Our little bard,' etc. 
 
 So the prologue appeared in The Public Advertiser. Goldsmith 
 probably thought that the lines printed in italic characters might 
 give offence, and therefore prevailed on Johnson to omit them. 
 The epithet little, which perhaps the author thought might diminish 
 his dignity, was also changed to anxious" etc. MALONE. 
 
 9 
 
io prologue 
 
 Our anxious bard, without complaint, may share 
 
 This bustling season's epidemic care, 
 
 Like Caesar's pilot, dignified by fate, 
 
 Tost in one common storm with all the great; 
 
 Distrest alike, the statesman and the wit, 
 
 When one a borough courts, and one the pit, 
 
 The busy candidates for power and fame, 
 
 Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, just the same; 
 
 Disabled both, to combat or to fly, 
 
 Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply. 
 
 Uncheck'd, on both loud rabbles vent their rage, 
 
 As mongrels bay the lion in a cage. 1 
 
 Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale, 
 
 For that blest year when all that vote may rail; 
 
 Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss, 
 
 Till that glad night when all that hate may hiss. 
 
 "This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," 
 
 Says swelling Crispin, "begg'd a cobbler's vote." 
 
 "This night, our wit," the pert apprentice cries, 
 
 "Lies at my feet I hiss him, and he dies." 
 
 The great, 't is true, can charm the electing tribe ; 
 
 The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe. 
 
 Yet, judged by those whose voices ne'er were sold, 
 
 He feels no want of ill-persuading gold ; 
 
 But confident of praise, if praise be due, 
 
 Trusts without fear, to merit, and to you. 
 
 Originally : 
 
 " Uncheck'd on both caprice may vent its rage, 
 As children fret the lion in a cage." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 MEN. 
 
 MR. HONEYWOOD . 
 CROAKER 
 
 LOFTY .... 
 SIR WILLIAM HONEYWOOD 
 LEONTINE 
 JARVIS 
 BUTLER 
 BAILIFF 
 DUBARDIEU . 
 POSTBOY 
 
 WOMEN 
 
 Miss RICHLAND 
 OLIVIA . 
 MRS. CROAKER 
 GARNET. 
 LANDLADY 
 
 Mr. Powell 
 Mr. Shuter 
 Mr. Woodward 
 Mr. Clarke 
 Mr. Bensley 
 Mr. Dunstall 
 Mr. Gushing 
 Mr. R. Smith 
 Mr. Holtom 
 Mr. Quick 
 
 Mrs. Bulkley 
 Mrs. Mattocks 
 Mrs. Pitt 
 Mrs. Green 
 Mrs. White 
 
 Scene LONDON 
 
 ii 
 
THE GOOD-NATURED MAN 
 
 ACT THE FIRST 
 
 SCENE An Apartment in Young HONEY WOOD'S House. 
 Enter SIR WILLIAM HONEYWOOD, JARVIS. 
 
 Sir Wm. Good Jarvis, make no apologies for 
 this honest bluntness. Fidelity like yours is the 
 best excuse for every freedom. 
 
 Jarv. I can't help being blunt, and being very 
 angry too, when I hear you talk of disinheriting 
 so good, so worthy a young gentleman as your 
 nephew, my master. All the world loves him. 
 
 Sir Wm. Say rather that he loves all the world; 
 that is his fault. 
 
 Jarv. I am sure there is no part of it more dear 
 to him than you are, though he has not seen you 
 since he was a child. 
 
 Sir Wm. What signifies his affection to me? 
 or how can I be proud of a place in a heart where 
 every sharper and coxcomb find an easy entrance? 
 
 Jarv. I grant you that he is rather too good- 
 is 
 
 
natured ; that he 's too much every man's man; 
 that he laughs this minute with one, and cries the 
 next with another: but whose instructions may he 
 thank for all this? 
 
 Sir Wm. Not mine, sure? My letters to him 
 during my employment in Italy taught him only 
 that philosophy which might prevent, not defend 
 his errors. 
 
 Jarv. Faith, begging your honour's pardon, 
 I'm sorry they taught him any philosophy at all; 
 it has only served to spoil him. This same philo- 
 sophy is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant 
 jade on a journey. For my own part, whenever 
 I hear him mention the name on 't, I 'm always 
 sure he 's going to play the fool. 
 
 Sir Wm. Don't let us ascribe his faults to his 
 philosophy, I entreat you. No, Jarvis, his good- 
 nature arises rather from his fears of offending 
 the importunate than his desire of making the 
 deserving happy. 
 
 Jarv. What it rises from, I don't know. But, 
 to be sure, everybody has it that asks it. 
 
 Sir Wm. Ay, or that does not ask it. I have 
 been now for some time a concealed spectator 
 of his follies, and find them as boundless as his 
 dissipation. 
 
 Jarv. And yet, faith, he has some fine name , 
 
15 
 
 or other for them all. He calls his extravagance, 
 generosity; and his trusting everybody, univer- 
 sal benevolence. It was but last week he went 
 security for a fellow whose face he scarce knew, 
 and that he called an act of exalted mu mu 
 munificence; ay, that was the name he gave it. 
 
 Sir Wm. And upon that I proceed, as my last 
 effort, though with very little hopes to reclaim 
 him. That very fellow has just absconded, and 
 I have taken up the security. Now, my intention 
 is to involve him in fictitious distress, before he 
 has plunged himself into real calamity: to arrest 
 him for that very debt; to clap an officer upon 
 him, and then let him see which of his friends 
 will come to his relief. 
 
 Jarv. Well, if I could but any way see him 
 thoroughly vexed, every groan of his would be 
 music to me; yet faith, I believe it impossible. 
 I have tried to fret him myself every morning 
 these three years; but instead of being angry, he 
 sits as calmly to hear me scold as he does to his 
 hair-dresser. 
 
 Sir Wm. We must try him once more, how- 
 ever, and 1 11 go this instant to put my scheme 
 into execution: and I don't despair of succeeding, 
 as, by your means, I can have frequent oppor- 
 tunities of being about him without being known. 
 
1 6 abe <5ooMRature& fl&an 
 
 What a pity it is, Jar vis, that any man's good- will 
 to others should produce so much neglect of him- 
 self as to require correction! Yet we must touch 
 his weaknesses with a delicate hand. There are 
 some faults so nearly allied to excellence that we 
 can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating 
 the virtue. [Exit. 
 
 Jarv. Well, go thy ways, Sir William Honey- 
 wood. It is not without reason that the world 
 allows thee to be the best of men. But here comes 
 his hopeful nephew; the strange, good-natured, 
 foolish, open-hearted and yet, all his faults are 
 such that one loves him still the better for 
 them. 
 
 Enter HONEYWOOD. 
 
 Honey. Well, Jarvis, what messages from my 
 friends this morning ? 
 
 Jarv. You have no friends. 
 
 Honey. Well; from my acquaintance then? 
 
 Jarv. (Pulling out bills.) A few of our usual 
 cards of compliment, that 's all. This bill from 
 your tailor; this from your mercer; and this from 
 the little broker in Crooked-lane. He says he has 
 been at a great deal of trouble to get back the 
 money you borrowed. 
 
 Honey. That I don't know; but I am sure we 
 
ZTbe <5oo&*Wature& fIDan 17 
 
 were at a great deal of trouble in getting him to 
 lend it. 
 
 Jaru. He has lost all patience. 
 
 Honey. Then he has lost a very good thing. 
 
 Jarv. There 's that ten guineas you were send- 
 ing to the poor gentleman and his children in the 
 Fleet. I believe that would stop his mouth for 
 a while at least. 
 
 Honey. Ay, Jarvis, but what will fill their 
 mouths in the meantime? Must I be cruel, be- 
 cause he happens to be importunate; and, to 
 relieve his avarice, leave them to insupportable 
 distress ? 
 
 Jarv. 'Sdeath! Sir, the question now is how 
 to relieve yourself yourself. Haven't I reason 
 to be out of my senses, when I see things going 
 at sixes and sevens? 
 
 Honey. Whatever reason you may have for 
 being out of your senses, I hope you '11 allow that 
 I am not quite unreasonable for continuing in 
 mine. 
 
 Jarv. You are the only man alive in your 
 present situation that could do so. Everything 
 upon the waste. There 's Miss Richland and her 
 fine fortune gone already, and upon the point of 
 being given to your rival 
 
 Honey. I 'm no man's rival. 
 
1 8 Gbe <5oo&**Mature& flDan 
 
 Jarv. Your uncle in Italy preparing to disin- 
 herit you; your own fortune almost spent; and 
 nothing but pressing creditors, false friends, and 
 a pack of drunken servants that your kindness 
 has made unfit for any other family. 
 
 Honey. Then they have the more occasion for 
 being in mine. 
 
 Jarv. Soh! What will you have done with 
 him that I caught stealing your plate in the pan- 
 try? In the fact; I caught him in the fact. 
 
 Honey. In the fact? If so, I really think 
 that we should pay him his wages, and turn him 
 off. 
 
 Jarv. He shall be turned off at Tyburn, the 
 dog; we 11 hang him, if it be only to frighten the 
 rest of the family. 
 
 Honey. No, Jarvis; it 's enough that we have 
 lost what he has stolen; let us not add to it the 
 loss of a fellow-creature! 
 
 Jarv. Very fine! well, here was the footman 
 just now; to complain of the butler: he says he 
 does most work, and ought to have most wages. 
 
 Honey. That's but just; though perhaps here 
 comes the butler to complain of the footman. 
 
 Jarv. Ay, it 's the way with them all, from 
 the scullion to the privy-counsellor. If they 
 have a bad master, they keep quarrelling with 
 
ZEbe <5oo&*1Ratureb fIDan 19 
 
 him; if they have a good master, they keep 
 quarrelling with one another. 
 
 Enter BUTLER, drunk. 
 
 But. Sir, I '11 not stay in the family with Jon- 
 athan; you must part with him, or part with me, 
 that 's the ex ex exposition of the matter, Sir. 
 
 Honey. Full and explicit enough. But what 's 
 his fault, good Philip? 
 
 But. Sir, he 's given to drinking, Sir, and I 
 shall have my morals corrupted by keeping such 
 company. 
 
 Honey. Ha! ha! he has such a diverting way 
 
 Jarv. O, quite amusing. 
 
 But. I find my wine 's a-going, Sir; and liquors 
 don't go without mouths, Sir; I hate a drunkard, 
 Sir. 
 
 Honey. Well, well, Philip, I '11 hear you upon 
 that another time; so go to bed now. 
 
 Jarv. To bed! let him go to the devil. 
 
 But. Begging your honour's pardon, and beg- 
 ging your pardon, Master Jarvis, I'll not go to bed, 
 nor to the devil neither. I have enough to do 
 to mind my cellar. I forgot, your honour, Mr. 
 Croaker is below. I came on purpose to tell you. 
 
 Honey. Why did n't you show him up, block- 
 head? 
 
20 Ebe (Boob^matureb 
 
 But. Show him up, Sir! With all my heart, 
 Sir. Up or down, all 's one to me. [Exit. 
 
 Jarv. Ay, we have one or other of that family 
 in the house from morning till night. He comes 
 on the old affair, I suppose the match between 
 his son that 's just returned from Paris, and Miss 
 Richland, the young lady he 's guardian to. 
 
 Honey. Perhaps so. Mr. Croaker, knowing 
 my friendship for the young lady, ha~ got it into 
 his head that I can persuade her to what I please. 
 
 Jarv. Ah! if you loved yourself but half as 
 well as she loves you, we should soon see a mar- 
 riage that would set all things to rights again. 
 
 Honey. Love me ! Sure, Jarvis, you dream. 
 No, no; her intimacy with me never amounted 
 to more than mere friendship mere friendship. 
 That she is the most lovely woman that ever 
 warmed the human heart with desire, I own. But 
 never let me harbour a thought of making her 
 unhappy, by a connection with one so unworthy 
 her merits as I am. No, Jarvis, it shall be my 
 study to serve her, even in spite of my wishes; 
 and to secure her happiness, though it destroys 
 my own. 
 
 Jarv. Was ever the like ? I want patience. 
 
 Honey. Besides, Jarvis, though I could obtain 
 Miss Richland's consent, do you think I could 
 
(Boofc-maturefc flDan 21 
 
 succeed with her guardian, or Mrs. Croaker, his wife, 
 who, though both very fine in their way, are yet a 
 little opposite in their dispositions, you know ? 
 
 Jarv. Opposite enough, Heaven knows! the 
 very reverse of each other: she, all laugh and no 
 joke; he, always complaining and never sorrow- 
 ful; a fretful poor soul, that has a new distress 
 for every hour in the four-and-twenty 
 
 Honey. Hush, hush, he 's coming up, he 11 hear 
 you. 
 
 Jarv. One whose voice is a passing bell 
 
 Honey. Well, well; go, do. 
 
 Jarv. A raven that bodes nothing but mis- 
 chief; a coffin and cross-bones; a bundle of rue; 
 a sprig of deadly nightshade; a (HONEYWOOD, 
 stopping his mouth, at last pushes him off). 
 
 [Exit JARVIS. 
 
 Honey. I must own my old monitor is not 
 entirely wrong. There is something in my friend 
 Croaker's conversation that entirely depresses 
 me. His very mirth is quite an antidote to all 
 gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect 
 on my spirits than an undertaker's shop. Mr. 
 Croaker, this is such a satisfaction 
 
 Enter CROAKER. 
 Cro. A pleasant morning to Mr. Honeywood, 
 
22 Ebe <5oo&*1Rature& fIDan 
 
 and many of them. How is this! you look most 
 shockingly to-day, my dear friend. I hope this 
 weather does not affect your spirits. To be sure, 
 if this weather continues I say nothing but God 
 send we be all better this day three months ! 
 
 Honey. I heartily concur in the wish, though, 
 I own, not in your apprehensions. 
 
 Cro. May be not. Indeed, what signifies what 
 weather we have in a country going to ruin like 
 ours? Taxes rising and trade falling. Money 
 flying out of the kingdom, and Jesuits swarming 
 into it. I know at this time no less than a hund- 
 red and twenty-seven Jesuits between Charing 
 Cross and Temple Bar. 
 
 Honey. The Jesuits will scarce pervert you or 
 
 me, I should hope. 
 
 . 
 
 Cro. May be not. Indeed, what signifies 
 whom they pervert in a country that has scarce 
 any religion to lose? I 'm only afraid for our 
 wives and daughters. 
 
 Honey. I have no apprehension for the ladies, 
 I assure you. 
 
 Cro. May be not. Indeed, what signifies 
 whether they be perverted or no? The women 
 in my time were good for something. I have 
 seen a lady drest from top to toe in her own man- 
 ufactures formerly. But now-a-days, the devil 
 
flfcan 23 
 
 a thing of their own manufacture 's about them, 
 except their faces. 
 
 Honey. But, however these faults may be 
 practised abroad, you don't find them at home, 
 either with Mrs. Croaker, Olivia, or Miss Richland? 
 
 Cro. The best of them will never be canonised 
 for a saint when she 's dead. By the bye, my dear 
 friend, I don't find this match between Miss Rich- 
 land and my son much relished, either by one 
 side or t'other. 
 
 Honey. I thought otherwise. 
 
 Cro. Ah, Mr. Honeywood, a little of your fine 
 serious advice to the young lady might go far: I 
 know she has a very exalted opinion of your 
 understanding. 
 
 Honey. But would not that be usurping an 
 authority that more properly belongs to your- 
 self? 
 
 Cro. My dear friend, you know but little of 
 my authority at home. People think, indeed, 
 because they see me come out in a morning thus, 
 a pleasant face, and to make my friends merry, 
 that all's well within. But I have cares that 
 would break a heart of stone. My wife has so 
 encroached upon every one of my privileges that 
 I 'm now no more than a mere lodger in my own 
 house. 
 
24 $be (BooMWaturefc flDan 
 
 Honey. But a little spirit exerted on your side 
 might perhaps restore your authority. 
 
 Cro. No, though I had the spirit of a lion! I 
 do rouse sometimes. But what then? always 
 haggling and haggling. A man is tired of getting 
 the better before his wife is tired of losing the 
 victory. 
 
 Honey. It 's a melancholy consideration in- 
 deed, that our chief comforts often produce our 
 greatest anxieties, and that an increase of our 
 possessions is but an inlet to new disquietudes. 
 
 Cro. Ah, my dear friend, these were the very 
 words of poor Dick Doleful to me not a week be- 
 fore he made way with himself. Indeed, Mr. 
 Honeywood, I never see you but you put me in 
 mind of poor Dick. Ah, there was merit neg- 
 lected for you! and so true a friend! we loved 
 each other for thirty years, and yet he never asked 
 me to lend him a single farthing. 
 
 Honey. Pray what could induce him to commit 
 so rash an action at last? 
 
 Cro. I don't know: some people were mali- 
 cious enough to say it was keeping company with 
 me; because we used to meet now and then and 
 open our hearts to each other. To be sure I loved to 
 hear him talk, and he loved to hear me talk; poor 
 dear Dick! He used to say that Croaker rhymed 
 
<5oo&*1Rature& flDan 25 
 
 to joker; and so we used to laugh. Poor Dick! 
 
 [Going to cry. 
 
 Honey. His fate affects me. 
 
 Cro. Ah, he grew sick of this miserable life, 
 where we do nothing but eat and grow hungry, 
 dress and undress, get up and lie down; while 
 reason, that should watch like a nurse by our side, 
 falls as fast asleep as we do. 
 
 Honey. To say a truth, if we compare that 
 part of our life which is to come by that which 
 we have past, the prospect is hideous. 1 
 
 Cro. Life at the greatest and best is but a fro- 
 ward child, that must be humoured and coaxed 
 a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is 
 over. 2 
 
 Honey. Very true, Sir; nothing can exceed 
 the vanity of our existence, but the folly of our 
 pursuits. We wept when we came into the world, 
 and every day tells us why. 
 
 Cro. Ah, my dear friend, it is a perfect satisfac- 
 tion to be miserable with you. My son Leontine 
 shan't lose the benefit of such a fine conversa- 
 
 1 "If I should judge of that part of life which lies before me 
 by that which I have already seen, the prospect is hideous." 
 The Citizen of the World, Letter Ixxiii. 
 
 2 Mr. Croaker here repeats, almost verbatim, the last sentence 
 in Sir William Temple's "Discourse of Poetry." (See Temple's 
 Works, ed. 1720, i., 249.) Compare The Citizen of the World, Letter 
 cxvii., and The Bee, No. iv. 
 
26 be <5oo&-mature& 
 
 tion. 1 11 just step home for him. I am willing 
 to show him so much seriousness in one scarce 
 older than himself. And what if I bring my 
 last letter to the Gazetteer on the increase and 
 progress of earthquakes? It will amuse us, I 
 promise you. I there prove how the late earth- 
 quake is coming round to pay us another visit, 
 from London to Lisbon from Lisbon to the 
 Canary Islands, from the Canary Islands to Pal- 
 myra, from Palmyra to Constantinople, and so 
 from Constantinople back to London again. [Exit. 
 Honey. Poor Croaker! his situation deserves 
 the utmost pity. I shall scarce recover my spirits 
 these three days. Sure to live upon such terms 
 is worse than death itself! And yet, when I con- 
 sider my own situation, a broken fortune, a 
 hopeless passion, friends in distress, the wish but 
 not the power to serve them (pausing and 
 sighing). 
 
 Enter BUTLER. 
 
 But. More company below, Sir; Mrs. Croaker 
 and Miss Richland: shall I show them up? but 
 they 're showing up themselves. [Exit. 
 
 Enter MRS. CROAKER and Miss RICHLAND. 
 
 Miss Rich. You 're always in such spirits. 
 Mrs. Cro. We have just come, my dear Honey- 
 
(BooMRatureb fIDan 27 
 
 wood, from the auction. There was the old deaf 
 dowager, as usual, bidding like a fury against her- 
 self. And then so curious in antiques! herself 
 the most genuine piece of antiquity in the whole 
 collection. 
 
 Honey. Excuse me, ladies, if some uneasiness 
 from friendship makes me unfit to share in this 
 good-humour: I know you'll pardon me. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. I vow he seems as melancholy as 
 if he had taken a dose of my husband this morning. 
 Well, if Richland here can pardon you, I must. 
 
 Miss Rich. You would seem to insinuate, 
 Madam, that I have particular reasons for being 
 disposed to refuse it. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Whatever I insinuate, my dear, 
 don't be so ready to wish an explanation. 
 
 Miss Rich. I own I should be sorry Mr. Honey- 
 wood's long friendship and mine should be 
 misunderstood. 
 
 Honey. There 's no answering for others, 
 Madam. But I hope you '11 never find me pre- 
 suming to offer more than the most delicate friend- 
 ship may readily allow. 
 
 Miss Rich. And I shall be prouder of such a 
 tribute from you than the most passionate pro- 
 fessions from others. 
 
 Honey. My own sentiments, Madam: friendship 
 
28 Gbe <5oolvWature& flDan 
 
 is a disinterested commerce between equals; love, 
 an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves. 
 
 Miss Rich. And, without compliment, I know 
 none more disinterested, or more capable of friend- 
 ship, than Mr. Honeywood. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. And, indeed, I know nobody that 
 has more friends, at least among the ladies. Miss 
 Fruzz, Miss Oddbody, and Miss Winterbottom, 
 praise him in all companies. As for Miss Biddy 
 Bundle, she 's his professed admirer. 
 
 Miss Rich. Indeed! an admirer! I did not 
 know, Sir, you were such a favourite there. But 
 is she seriously so handsome? Is she the mighty 
 thing talked of? 
 
 Honey. The town, Madam, seldom begins to 
 praise a lady's beauty till she 's beginning to lose 
 it (smiling). 
 
 Mrs. Cro. But she 's resolved never to lose it, 
 it seems; for, as her natural face decays, her skill 
 improves in making the artificial one. Well, no- 
 thing diverts me more than one of these fine, old, 
 dressy things, who thinks to conceal her age by 
 everywhere exposing her person; sticking herself 
 up in the front of a side-box; trailing through a 
 minuet at Almack's; and then, in the public gar- 
 dens, looking for all the world like one of the 
 painted ruins of the place. 
 
(BooMRaturefc flfcan 29 
 
 Honey. Every age has its admirers, ladies. 
 While you, perhaps, are trading among the warmer 
 climates of youth, there ought to be some to carry 
 on a useful commerce in the frozen latitudes be- 
 yond fifty. 
 
 Miss Rich. But, then, the mortifications they 
 must suffer, before they can be fitted out for traffic. 
 I have seen one of them fret a whole morning at 
 her hair-dresser, when all the fault was her 
 face. 
 
 Honey. And yet, I '11 engage, has carried that 
 at last to a very good market. This good-natured 
 town, Madam, has husbands, like spectacles, to fit 
 every age, from fifteen to fourscore. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Well, you 're a dear, good-natured 
 creature. But you know you 're engaged with us 
 this morning upon a strolling party. I want to 
 show Olivia the town, and the things; I believe I 
 shall have business for you for the whole day. 
 
 Honey. I am sorry, Madam, I have an appoint- 
 ment with Mr. Croaker, which it is impossible to 
 put off. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. What! with my husband? Then 
 I 'm resolved to take no refusal. Nay, I protest 
 you must. You know I never laugh so much as 
 with you. 
 
 Honey. Why, if I must, I must. I '11 swear 
 
30 Ebe 0oo&*mature& flDan 
 
 you have put me into such spirits. Well, do you 
 find jest, and I '11 find laugh, I promise you. 
 We 11 wait for the chariot in the next room. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter LEONTINE and OLIVIA. 
 
 Leon. There they go, thoughtless and happy. 
 My dearest Olivia, what would I give to see you 
 capable of sharing in their amusements, and as 
 cheerful as they are. 
 
 Olivia. How, my Leontine, how can I be 
 cheerful, when I have so many terrors to oppress 
 me? The fear of being detected by this family, 
 and the apprehensions of a censuring world, when 
 I must be detected 
 
 Leon. The world, my love! what can it say? 
 At worst it can only say that, being compelled by 
 a mercenary guardian to embrace a life you dis- 
 liked, you formed a resolution of flying with the 
 man of your choice; that you confided in his hon- 
 our, and took refuge in my father's house the 
 only one where you could remain without censure. 
 
 Olivia. But consider, Leontine, your disobe- 
 dience and my indiscretion; your being sent to 
 France, to bring home a sister, and, instead of a 
 sister, bringing home 
 
 Leon. One dearer than a thousand sisters. One 
 
<5oob*1Raturel> flDan 
 
 that I am convinced will be equally dear to the 
 rest of the family, when she comes to be known. 
 
 Olivia. And that, I fear, will shortly be. 
 
 Leon. Impossible, till we ourselves think proper 
 to make this discovery. My sister, you know, has 
 been with her aunt, at Lyons, since she was a child, 
 and you find every creature in the family takes 
 you for her. 
 
 Olivia. But may n't she write, may n't her 
 aunt write? 
 
 Leon. Her aunt scarce ever writes, and all my 
 sister's letters are directed to me. 
 
 Olivia. But won't your refusing Miss Richland, 
 for whom you know the old gentleman intends you, 
 create a suspicion ? 
 
 Leon. There, there 's my master-stroke. I have 
 resolved not to refuse her ; nay, an hour hence 
 I have consented to go with my father to make 
 her an offer of my heart and fortune. 
 
 Olivia. Your heart and fortune! 
 
 Leon. Don't be alarmed, my dearest. Can 
 Olivia think so meanly of my honour or my love, 
 as to suppose I could ever hope for happiness from 
 any but her? No, my Olivia, neither the force, 
 nor, permit me to add, the delicacy of my passion, 
 leaves any room to suspect me. I only offer Miss 
 Richland a heart I am convinced she will refuse; 
 
32 Ztbe <5ooMRature& fl&an 
 
 as I am confident that, without knowing it, her 
 affections are fixed upon Mr. Honeywood. 
 
 Olivia. Mr. Honeywood! You '11 excuse my 
 apprehensions; but when your merits come to be 
 put in the balance 
 
 Leon. You view them with too much par- 
 tiality. However, by making this offer, I show a 
 seeming compliance with my father's command ; 
 and, perhaps, upon her refusal, I may have his 
 consent to choose for myself. 
 
 Olivia. Well, I submit. And yet, my Leontine, 
 I own I shall envy her even your pretended ad- 
 dresses. I consider every look, every expression of 
 your esteem, as due only to me. This is folly, per- 
 haps : I allow it, but it is natural to suppose that 
 merit which has made an impression on one's own 
 heart may be powerful over that of another. 
 
 Leon. Don't, my life's treasure, don't let us 
 make imaginary evils, when you know we have so 
 many real ones to encounter. At worst, you know, 
 if Miss Richland should consent, or my father 
 refuse his pardon, it can but end in a trip to Scot- 
 land; and 
 
 Enter CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Where have you been, boy? I have been 
 seeking you. My friend Honeywood here has been 
 
(BooMRaturefc fIDan 33 
 
 saying such comfortable things. Ah! he 's an ex- 
 ample indeed. Where is he? I left him here. 
 
 Leon. Sir, I believe you may see him, and hear 
 him too, in the next room; he 's preparing to go 
 out with the ladies. 
 
 Cro. Good gracious! can I believe my eyes and 
 my ears! I 'm struck dumb with his vivacity, and 
 stunned with the loudness of his laugh. Was there 
 ever such a transformation! (A laugh behind the 
 scenes, CROAKER mimics it.) Ha! ha! ha! there 
 it goes: a plague take their balderdash! Yet I 
 could expect nothing less, when my precious wife 
 was of the party. On my conscience, I believe 
 she could spread a horse-laugh through the pews 
 of a tabernacle. 
 
 Leon. Since you find so many objections to a 
 wife, Sir, how can you be so earnest in recom- 
 mending one to me? 
 
 Cro. I have told you, and tell you again, boy, 
 that Miss Richland's fortune must not go out of 
 the family; one may find comfort in the money, 
 whatever one does in the wife. 
 
 Leon. But, Sir, though, in obedience to your 
 desire, I am ready to marry her, it may be possible 
 she has no inclination to me. 
 
 Cro. I '11 tell you once for all how it stands. A 
 good part of Miss Richland's large fortune consists 
 
 VOL. II. .3 
 
34 be (Soo&^IRatureb ftoan 
 
 in a claim upon Government, which my good 
 friend Mr. Lofty assures me the Treasury will 
 allow. One half of this she is to forfeit, by her 
 father's will, in case she refuses to marry you. 
 So, if she rejects you, we seize half her fortune; 
 if she accepts you, we seize the whole, and a fine 
 girl into the bargain. 
 
 Leon. But, Sir, if you will but listen to reason 
 
 Cro. Come then, produce your reasons. I 
 tell you, I 'm fixed, determined; so now produce 
 your reasons. When I 'm determined, I always 
 listen to reason, because it can then do no harm. 
 
 Leon. You have alleged that a mutual choice 
 was the first requisite in matrimonial happiness. 
 
 Cro. Well, and you have both of you a mutual 
 choice. She has her choice to marry you, or 
 lose half her fortune; and you have your choice 
 to marry her, or pack out of doors without any 
 fortune at all. 
 
 Leon. An only son, Sir, might expect more 
 indulgence. 
 
 Cro. An only father, Sir, might expect more 
 obedience: besides, has not your sister here, that 
 never disobliged me in her life, as good a right as 
 you? He 's a sad dog, Livy, my dear, and would 
 take all from you. But he shan't, I tell you he 
 shan't, for you shall have your share. 
 
flDan 35 
 
 Olivia. Dear Sir, I wish you 'd be convinced 
 that I can never be happy in any addition to my 
 fortune which is taken from his. 
 
 Cro. Well, well, it 's a good child, so say no 
 more; but come with me, and we shall see some- 
 thing that will give us a great deal of pleasure, I 
 promise you: old Rugging, the curry-comb maker, 
 lying in state; I am told he makes a very hand- 
 some corpse, and becomes his coffin prodigiously. 1 
 He was an intimate friend of mine, and these are 
 friendly things we ought to do for each other. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 1 Compare Letter xii. of The Citizen of the World. 
 
ACT THE SECOND 
 SCENE CROAKER'S House. Miss RICHLAND, GARNET. 
 
 Miss Rich. Olivia not his sister? Olivia not 
 Leontine's sister? You amaze me ! 
 
 Garn. No more his sister than I am; I had it 
 all from his own servant: I can get anything from 
 that quarter. 
 
 Miss Rick. But how? Tell me again, Garnet. 
 
 Garn. Why, Madam, as I told you before, 
 instead of going to Lyons to bring home his sister, 
 who has been there with her aunt these ten years, 
 he never went further than Paris: there he saw 
 and fell in love with this young lady by the bye, 
 of a prodigious family. 
 
 Miss Rick. And brought her home to my guar- 
 dian as his daughter? 
 
 Garn. Yes, and daughter she will be. If he 
 don't consent to their marriage, they talk of trying 
 what a Scotch parson can do. 
 
 Miss Rick. Well, I own they have deceived me. 
 
 And so demurely as Olivia carried it too! Would 
 
 36 
 
Gbe oofc*Kature& flDan 37 
 
 you believe it, Garnet, I told her all my secrets; 
 and yet the sly cheat concealed all this from me ? 
 
 Garn. And, upon my word, Madam, I don't 
 much blame her: she was loth to trust one with 
 her secrets, that was so very bad at keeping her own. 
 
 Miss Rich. But, to add to their deceit, the 
 young gentleman, it seems, pretends to make me 
 serious proposals. My guardian and he are to be 
 here presently, to open the affair in form. You 
 know I am to lose half my fortune if I refuse 
 him. 
 
 Garn. Yet, what can you do? For being, as 
 you are, in love with Mr. Honeywood, Madam 
 
 Miss Rich. How! idiot, what do you mean? 
 In love with Mr. Honeywood! Is this to provoke 
 me? 
 
 Garn. That is, Madam, in friendship with him; 
 I meant nothing more than friendship, as I hope 
 to be married; nothing more. 
 
 Miss Rich. Well, no more of this. As to my 
 guardian and his son, they shall find me prepared 
 to receive them: I 'm resolved to accept their pro- 
 posal with seeming pleasure, to mortify them by 
 compliance, and so throw the refusal at last upon 
 them. 
 
 Garn. Delicious! and that will secure your 
 whole fortune to yourself. Well, who could have 
 
38 
 
 thought so innocent a face could cover so much 
 'cuteness! 
 
 Miss Rich. Why, girl, I only oppose my pru- 
 dence to their cunning, and practise a lesson they 
 have taught me against themselves. 
 
 Garn. Then you 're likely not long to want 
 employment, for here they come, and in close 
 conference. 
 
 Enter CROAKER, LEONTINE. 
 
 Leon. Excuse me, Sir, if I seem to hesitate 
 upon the point of putting to the lady so important 
 a question. 
 
 Cro. Lord! good Sir, moderate your fears; 
 you 're so plaguy shy that one would think you 
 had changed sexes. I tell you we must have the 
 half or the whole. Come, let me see with what 
 spirit you begin: Well, why don't you? Eh! 
 what ? Well then I must, it seems Miss Rich- 
 land, my dear, I believe you guess at our business; 
 an affair which my son here comes to open, that 
 nearly concerns your happiness. 
 
 Miss Rick. Sir, I should be ungrateful not to 
 be pleased with any thing that comes recommended 
 by you. 
 
 Cro. How, boy, could you desire a finer open- 
 ing? Why don't you begin, I say? [To LEONTINE. 
 
 Leon. 'T is true, Madam, my father, Madam, 
 
(BooMRatureb flDan 39 
 
 lias some intentions hem of explaining an affair 
 which himself can best explain, Madam. 
 
 Cro. Yes, my dear; it comes entirely from my 
 son; it 's all a request of his own, Madam. And 
 I will permit him to make the best of it. 
 
 Leon. The whole affair is only this, Madam: 
 my father has a proposal to make, which he in- 
 sists none but himself shall deliver. 
 
 Cro. My mind misgives me, the fellow will 
 never be brought on (aside). In short, Madam, 
 you see before you one that loves you, one whose 
 whole happiness is all in you. 
 
 Miss Rich. I never had any doubts of your 
 regard, Sir; and I hope you can have none of my 
 -duty. 
 
 Cro. That 's not the thing, my little sweeting; 
 my love! No, no, another-guess lover than I: 
 there he stands, Madam^ his very looks declare 
 the force of his passion Call up a look, you dog! 
 (aside). But then, had you seen him, as I have, 
 weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, 
 sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent 
 
 Miss Rick. I fear, Sir, he 's absent now; or 
 such a declaration would have come most properly 
 from himself. 
 
 Cro. Himself, Madam! he would die before 
 he could make such a confession; and if he had 
 
40 Gbe <5oob*1Rature& flDan 
 
 not a channel for his passion through me, it would 
 ere now have drowned his understanding. 
 
 Miss Rich. I must grant, Sir, there are at- 
 tractions in modest diffidence above the force of 
 words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence 
 of sincerity. 
 
 Cro. Madam, he has forgot to speak any other 
 language; silence is become his mother-tongue. 
 
 Miss Rich. And it must be confessed, Sir, it 
 speaks very powerfully in his favour. And yet 
 I shall be thought too forward in making such a 
 confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine? 
 
 Leon. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. 
 But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may 
 disgust her. I 11 try (aside). Don't imagine 
 from my silence, Madam, that I want a due sense 
 of the honour and happiness intended me. My 
 father, Madam, tells me your humble servant is 
 not wholly indifferent to you he admires you: 
 I adore you ; and when we come together, upon 
 my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple 
 in all St. James's. 
 
 Miss Rich. If I could flatter myself you thought 
 as you speak, Sir 
 
 Leon. Doubt my sincerity, Madam? By your 
 dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire 
 glory? ask cowards if they covet safety 
 
Gbe <5ooMRature& flDan 41 
 
 Cro. Well, well, no more questions about it. 
 
 Leon. Ask the sick if they long for health? 
 ask misers if they love money? ask 
 
 Cro. Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense! What's 
 come over the boy? What signifies asking, when 
 there 's not a soul to give you an answer ? If you 
 would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent 
 to make you happy. 
 
 Miss Rick. Why, indeed, Sir, his uncommon 
 ardour almost compels me forces me to comply. 
 And yet I 'm afraid he 11 despise a conquest 
 gained with too much ease ; won't you, Mr, 
 Leontine? 
 
 Leon. Confusion! (aside). Oh, by no means, 
 Madam, by no means. And yet, Madam, you 
 talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid 
 so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. 
 No, Madam, I will still be generous, and leave you 
 at liberty to refuse. 
 
 Cro. But I tell you, Sir, the lady is not at 
 liberty. It 's a match. You see she says nothing. 
 Silence gives consent. 
 
 Leon. But, Sir, she talked of force. Consider, 
 Sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations. 
 
 Cro. But I say there 's no cruelty. Don't 
 you know, blockhead, that girls have always a 
 roundabout way of saying "yes" before company? 
 
42 Cbe <5oob*1Raturel> ftoan 
 
 So get you both gone together into the next room, 
 and hang him that interrupts the tender explana- 
 tion. Get you gone, I say; I '11 not hear a word. 
 Leon. But, Sir, I must beg leave to insist 
 Cro. Get off, you puppy, or 1 11 beg leave to 
 insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! 
 But I don't wonder: the boy takes entirely after his 
 mother. [Exeunt Miss HIGHLAND and LEONTINE. 
 
 Enter MRS. CROAKER. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Mr. Croaker, I bring you something, 
 my dear, that I believe will make you smile. 
 
 Cro. I '11 hold you a guinea of that, my dear. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. A letter; and, as I knew the hand, 
 I ventured to open it. 
 
 Cro. And how can you expect your breaking 
 open my letters should give me pleasure ? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Poo! it 's from your sister at Lyons, 
 and contains good news; read it. 
 
 Cro. What a Frenchified cover is here! That 
 sister of mine has some good qualities, but I could 
 never teach her to fold a letter. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Fold a fiddlestick. Read what it 
 contains. 
 
 CROAKER (reading). 
 "DEAR NICK: 
 
 "An English gentleman, of large fortune, has 
 
(SooNHaturefc flDan 43 
 
 for some time made private, though honourable, 
 proposals to your daughter Olivia. They love 
 each other tenderly, and I find she has consented, 
 without letting any of the family know, to crown 
 his addresses. As such good offers don't come 
 every day, your own good sense, his large fortune, 
 and family considerations, will induce you to for- 
 give her. 
 
 "Yours ever, 
 
 11 RACHEL CROAKER/' 
 
 My daughter Olivia privately contracted to a 
 man of large fortune! This is good news, indeed. 
 My heart never foretold me of this. And yet how 
 slily the little baggage has carried it since she 
 came home; not a word on 't to the old ones for 
 the world. Yet I thought I saw something she 
 wanted to conceal. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Well, if they have concealed their 
 amour, they shan't conceal their wedding; that 
 shall be public, I 'm resolved. 
 
 Cro. I tell thee, woman, the wedding is the 
 most foolish part of the ceremony. I can never 
 get this woman to think of the most serious part 
 of the nuptial engagement. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. What would you have me think of, 
 their funeral? But come, tell me, my dear, don't 
 
44 Sbe <5oo&**Wature& flDan 
 
 you owe more to me than you care to confess? 
 Would you have ever been known to Mr. Lofty, 
 who has undertaken Miss Richland's claim at the 
 Treasury, but for me? Who was it first made 
 him an acquaintance at Lady Shabbaroon's rout ? 
 Who got him to promise us his interest? Is not 
 he a backstairs favourite, one that can do what 
 he pleases with those that do what they please? 
 Is not he an acquaintance that all your groaning 
 and lamentation could never have got us? 
 
 Cro. He is a man of importance, I grant you. 
 And yet what amazes me is that, while he is giving 
 away places to all the world, he can't get one for 
 himself. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. That perhaps may be owing to his 
 nicety. Great men are not easily satisfied. 
 
 Enter French Servant. 
 
 Serv. An expresse from Monsieur Lofty. He 
 vil be vait upon your honours instammant. He 
 be only giving four five instruction, read two tree 
 memorial, call upon von ambassadeur. He vil 
 be vid you in two tree minutes. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. You see now, my dear. What an 
 extensive department! Well, friend, let your 
 master know that we are extremely honoured by 
 this honour. Was there anything ever in a higher 
 
<5oob>*1Rature& flDan 45 
 
 style of breeding? All messages among the great 
 are now done by express. 
 
 Cro. To be sure, no man does little things with 
 more solemnity, or claims more respect than he. 
 But he 's in the right on 't. In our bad world, 
 respect is given where respect is claimed. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Never mind the world, my dear; 
 you were never in a pleasanter place in your life. 
 Let us now think of receiving him with proper 
 respect (a loud rapping at ike door), and there 
 he is, by the thundering rap. 
 
 Cro. Ay, verily, there he is! as close upon the 
 heels of his own express as an indorsement upon 
 the back of a bill. Well, 1 11 leave you to receive 
 him, whilst I go to chide my little Olivia for intend- 
 ing to steal a marriage without mine or her aunt's 
 consent. I must seem to be angry, or she too may 
 begin to despise my authority. [Exit. 
 
 Enter LOFTY, speaking to his Servant. 
 
 Lofty. "And if the Venetian ambassador, or 
 that teasing creature the Marquis, should call, I 'm 
 not at home. Dam'me, I '11 be pack-horse to none 
 of them." My dear Madam, I have just snatched 
 a moment "And if the expresses to his Grace be 
 ready, let them be sent off; they 're of impor- 
 tance." Madam, I ask a thousand pardons. 
 
46 be <5oot>-1Ratureb 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Sir, this honour 
 
 Lofty. "And, Dubardieu! if the person calls 
 about the commission, let him know that it is 
 made out. As for Lord Cumbercourt's stale 
 request, it can keep cold: you understand me." 
 Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Sir, this honour 
 
 Lofty. ' l And, Dubardieu ! if the man comes from 
 the Cornish borough, you must do him; you must 
 do him, I say/' Madam, I ask ten thousand par- 
 dons. "And if the Russian ambassador calls, but 
 he will scarce call to-day, I believe." And now, 
 Madam, I have just got time to express my happi- 
 ness in having the honour of being permitted to 
 profess myself your most obedient humble servant. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Sir, the happiness and honour are all 
 mine: and yet, I 'm only robbing the public while 
 I detain you. 
 
 Lofty. Sink the public, Madam, when the fair 
 are to be attended. Ah, could all my hours be 
 so charmingly devoted! Sincerely, don't you pity 
 us poor creatures in affairs? Thus it is eternally; 
 solicited for places here, teased for pensions there, 
 and courted everywhere. I know you pity me. 
 Yes, I see you do. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Excuse me, Sir. "Toils of empires 
 pleasures are," as Waller says. 
 
(BooMRaturefc flDan 47 
 
 Lofty. Waller, Waller, is he of the House ? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. The modern poet of that name, Sir. 
 
 Lofty. Oh, a modern! we men of business de- 
 spise the moderns; and as for the ancients, we 
 have no time to read them. Poetry is a pretty 
 thing enough for our wives and daughters; but 
 not for us. Why now, here I stand that know 
 nothing of books; and yet, I believe, upon a land- 
 carriage fishery, a stamp act, or a jaghire, I can 
 talk my two hours without feeling the want of 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. The world is no stranger to Mr. 
 Lofty 's eminence in every capacity. 
 
 Lofty. I vow to gad, Madam, you make me 
 blush. I'm nothing, nothing, nothing in the 
 world; a mere obscure gentleman. To be sure, 
 indeed, one or two of the present ministers are 
 pleased to represent me as a formidable man. I 
 know they are pleased to bespatter me at all 
 their little dirty levees. Yet, upon my soul, I 
 wonder what they see in me to treat me so! 
 Measures, not men, have always been my mark; 
 and I vow, by all that's honourable, my resent- 
 ment has never done the men, as mere men, any 
 manner of harm that is, as mere men. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. What importance, and yet what 
 modesty! 
 
48 be (Boo&^matureb fIDan 
 
 Lofty. Oh, if you talk of modesty, Madam, 
 there, I own, I 'm accessible to praise; modesty is 
 my foible: it was so the Duke of Brentford use to 
 to say of me. "I love Jack Lofty," he used to 
 say, "no man has a finer knowledge of things; 
 quite a man of information; and, when he speaks 
 upon his legs, by the Lord he 's prodigious, he 
 scouts them; and yet all men have their faults 
 too much modesty is his," says his Grace. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. And yet, I dare say, you don't want 
 assurance when you come to solicit for your friends. 
 
 Lofty. Oh, there indeed I 'm in bronze. Apro- 
 pos! I have just been mentioning Miss Rich- 
 land's case to a certain personage; we must name 
 no names. When I ask, I am not to be put off 
 Madam. No, no, I take my friend by the button. 
 "A fine girl, Sir; great justice in her case. A 
 friend of mine borough interest business must 
 be done, Mr. Secretary. I say, Mr. Secretary, 
 her business must be done, Sir." That 's my 
 way, Madam. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Bless me! you said all this to the 
 Secretary of State, did you? 
 
 Lofty. I did not say the Secretary, did I ? Well, 
 curse it, since you have found me out, I will not 
 deny it. It was to the Secretary. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. This was going to the fountain-head 
 
(Soob^lftaturefc fIDan 49 
 
 at once, not applying to the understrappers, as 
 Mr. Honeywood would have had us. 
 
 Lofty. Honeywood! he! he! He was, indeed, 
 a fine solicitor. I suppose you have heard what 
 has just happened to him? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Poor dear man! no accident, I hope? 
 
 Lofty. Undone, Madam, that 's all. His cred- 
 itors have taken him into custody. A prisoner 
 in his own house. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. A prisoner in his own house! How? 
 At this very time? I 'm quite unhappy for him. 
 
 Lofty. Why, so am I. The man, to be sure, 
 was immensely good-natured. But then I could 
 never find that he had anything in him. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. His manner, to be sure, was exces- 
 sively harmless; some, indeed, thought it a little 
 dull. For my part, I always concealed my opinion. 
 
 Lofty. It can't be concealed, Madam; the man 
 was dull, dull as the last new comedy! a poor im- 
 practicable creature! I tried once or twice to 
 know if he was fit for business; but he had scarce 
 talents to be groom-porter to an orange-barrow. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. How differently does Miss Richland 
 think of him! for I believe, with all his faults, she 
 loves him. 
 
 Lofty. Loves him! does she? You should cure 
 her of that by all means. Let me see; what if she 
 
so Ebe <5oob-1Ratureb flDan 
 
 were sent to him this instant, in his present dole- 
 ful situation? My life for it, that works her cure. 
 Distress is a perfect antidote to love. Suppose 
 we join her in the next room? Miss Richland is 
 a fine girl, has a fine fortune, and must not be 
 thrown away. Upon my honour, Madam, I have 
 a regard for Miss Richland; and rather than she 
 should be thrown away, I should think it no in- 
 dignity to marry her myself. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter OLIVIA and LEONTINE. 
 
 Leon. And yet, trust me, Olivia, I had every 
 reason to expect Miss Richland's refusal, as I did 
 everything in my power to deserve it. Her indel- 
 icacy surprises me. 
 
 Olivia. Sure, Leontine, there's nothing so indel- 
 icate in being sensible of your merit. If so, I fear 
 I shall be the most guilty thing alive. 
 
 Leon. But you mistake, my dear. The same at- 
 tention I used to advance my merit with you, I prac- 
 tised to lessen it with her. What more could I do ? 
 
 Olivia. Let us now rather consider what is to 
 be done. We have both dissembled too long. 
 I have always been ashamed I am now quite 
 weary of it. Sure I could never have undergone 
 so much for any other but you. 
 
 Leon. And you shall find my gratitude equal 
 
Ztbe <5oob*1Wature& flDan 51 
 
 to your kindest compliance. Though our friends 
 should totally forsake us, Olivia, we can draw upon 
 content for the deficiencies of fortune. 
 
 Olivia. Then why should we defer our scheme 
 of humble happiness, when it is now in our power? 
 I may be the favourite of your father, it is true; 
 but can it ever be thought that his present kind- 
 ness to a supposed child will continue to a known 
 deceiver? 
 
 Leon. I have many reasons to believe it will. As 
 his attachments are but few, they are lasting. His 
 own marriage was a private one, as ours may be. 
 Besides, I have sounded him already at a distance, 
 and find all his answers exactly to our wish. Nay, 
 by an expression or two that dropped from him, 
 I am induced to think that he knows of this affair. 
 
 Olivia. Indeed. But that would be a happiness 
 too great to be expected. 
 
 Leon. However it be, I 'm certain you have 
 power over him; and I am persuaded, if you in- 
 formed him of our situation, that he would be 
 disposed to pardon it. 
 
 Olivia. You had equal expectations, Leontine, 
 from your last scheme with Miss Richland, which 
 you find has succeeded most wretchedly. 
 
 Leon. And that's the best reason for trying 
 another. 
 
52 be <5oot>*1Rature& flDan 
 
 Olivia. If it must be so, I submit. 
 
 Leon. As we could wish, he comes this way. 
 
 Now, my dearest Olivia, be resolute. I '11 just 
 
 retire within hearing, to come in at a proper time, 
 
 either to share your danger, or confirm your victory. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Yes, I must forgive her; and yet not too 
 easily, neither. It will be proper to keep up 
 to the decorums of resentment a little, if it be only 
 to impress her with an idea of my authority. 
 
 Olivia. How I tremble to approach him! 
 Might I presume, Sir, if I interrupt you 
 
 Cro. No, child, where I have an affection, it is 
 not a little thing that can interrupt me. Affection 
 gets over little things. 
 
 Olivia. Sir, you 're too kind. I 'm sensible how 
 ill I deserve this partiality; yet, Heaven knows, 
 there is nothing I would not do to gain it. 
 
 Cro. And you have but too well succeeded, 
 you little hussy, you. With those endearing ways 
 of yours, on my conscience, I could be brought 
 to forgive anything unless it were a very great 
 offence indeed. 
 
 Olivia. But mine is such an offence when 
 you know my guilt yes, you shall know it, 
 though I feel the greatest pain in the confession. 
 
SooMRatureb fIDan 53 
 
 Cro. Why, then, if it be so very great a pain, 
 you may spare yourself the trouble; for I know 
 every syllable of the matter before you begin. 
 
 Olivia. Indeed! Then I 'm undone. 
 
 Cro. Ay, Miss, you wanted to steal a match, 
 without letting me know it, did you? But I 'm 
 not worth being consulted, I suppose, when there 's 
 to be a marriage in my own family. No, I 'm 
 nobody. I 'm to be a mere article of family lum- 
 ber; a piece of cracked china to be stuck up in a 
 corner. 
 
 Olivia. Dear Sir, nothing but the dread of your 
 authority could induce us to conceal it from you. 
 
 Cro. No, no, my consequence is no more ; I 'm 
 as little minded as a dead Russian in winter, 
 just stuck up with a pipe in its mouth till there 
 comes a thaw It goes to my heart to vex her. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Olivia. I was prepared, Sir, for your anger, 
 and despaired of pardon, even while I presumed 
 to ask it. But your severity shall never abate 
 my affection, as my punishment is but justice. 
 
 Cro. And yet you should not despair, neither, 
 Livy. We ought to hope all for the best. 
 
 Olivia. And do you permit me to hope, Sir? 
 Can I ever expect to be forgiven? But hope has 
 too long deceived me. 
 
54 
 
 Cro. Why then, child, it shan't deceive you 
 now, for I forgive you this very moment; I forgive 
 you all; and now you are indeed my daughter. 
 
 Olivia. O transport! this kindness overpowers me. 
 
 Cro. I was always against severity to our 
 children. We have been young and giddy our- 
 selves, and we can't expect boys and girls to be 
 old before their time. 
 
 Olivia. What generosity! But can you forget 
 the many falsehoods, the dissimulation 
 
 Cro. You did indeed dissemble, you urchin, 
 but where 's the girl that won't dissemble for a 
 husband ? My wife and I had never been married 
 if we had not dissembled a little beforehand. 
 
 Olivia. It shall be my future care never to put 
 such generosity to a second trial. And as for the 
 partner of my offence and folly, from his native 
 honour, and the just sense he has of his duty, I 
 can answer for him that 
 
 Enter LEONTINE. 
 
 Leon. Permit him thus to answer for himself 
 (kneeling) . Thus, Sir, let me speak my gratitude 
 for this unmerited forgiveness. Yes, Sir, this even 
 exceeds all your former tenderness. I now can 
 boast the most indulgent of fathers. The life he 
 gave, compared to this, was but a trifling blessing. 
 
<5oob*1Raturet> flDan 55 
 
 Cro. And, good Sir, who sent for you, with 
 that fine tragedy face, and flourishing manner? 
 I don't know what we have to do with your grati- 
 tude upon this occasion. 
 
 Leon. How, Sir! Is it possible to be silent, 
 when so much obliged? Would you refuse me the 
 pleasure of being grateful? of adding my thanks 
 to my Olivia's? of sharing in the transports that 
 you have thus occasioned? 
 
 Cro. Lord, Sir, we can be happy enough without 
 your coming in to make up the party. I don't 
 know what 's the matter with the boy all this day; 
 he has got into such a rhodomontade manner all 
 this morning! 
 
 Leon. But, Sir, I that have so large a part in the 
 benefit, is it not my duty to show my joy? is the 
 being admitted to your favour so slight an obliga- 
 tion? is the happiness of marrying my Olivia so 
 small a blessing? 
 
 Cro. Marrying Olivia? marrying Olivia! mar- 
 rying his own sister! Sure the boy is out of his 
 senses. His own sister! 
 
 Leon. My sister! 
 
 Olivia. Sister! How have I been mistaken! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Leon. Some cursed mistake in all this, I find. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
56 Gbe <5oob*Watureb flfcan 
 
 Cro. What does the booby mean ? or has he any 
 meaning? Eh, what do you mean, you block- 
 head you ? 
 
 Leon. Mean, Sir, why, Sir only when my sis- 
 ter is to be married, that I have the pleasure of 
 marrying her, Sir, that is, of giving her away, 
 Sir I have made a point of it. 
 
 Cro. O, is that all? Give her away. You have 
 made a point of it. Then you had as good make 
 a point of first giving away yourself, as I 'm going 
 to prepare the writings between you and Miss 
 Richland this very minute. What a fuss is here 
 about nothing! Why, what's the matter now? 
 I thought I had made you at least as happy as 
 you could wish. 
 
 Olivia. O! yes, Sir; very happy. 
 
 Cro. Do you foresee anything, child? You 
 look as if you did. I think if anything was to be 
 foreseen, I have as sharp a look-out as another; 
 and yet I foresee nothing. [Exit. 
 
 LEONTINE, OLIVIA. 
 
 Olivia. What can it mean? 
 
 Leon. He knows something, and yet for my 
 life I can't tell what. 
 
 Olivia. It can't be the connection between us, 
 I 'm pretty certain. 
 
fIDan 57 
 
 Leon. Whatever it be, my dearest, I am re- 
 solved to put it out of fortune's power to repeat 
 our mortification. 1 11 haste and prepare for our 
 journey to Scotland this very evening. My friend 
 Honeywood has promised me his advice and 
 assistance. I '11 go to him and repose our distresses 
 on his friendly bosom; and I know so much of 
 his honest heart, that if he can't relieve our 
 uneasiness, he will at least share them. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE THIRD 
 
 SCENE Young HONEYWOOD'S House. 
 Bailiff, HONEY WOOD, Follower. 
 
 Bail. Lookye, Sir, I have arrested as good men 
 as you in my time: no disparagement of you 
 neither: men that would go forty guineas on a 
 game of cribbage. I challenge the town to show 
 a man in more genteeler practice than myself. 
 
 Honey. Without all question, Mr. . I forget 
 
 your name, Sir? 
 
 Bail. How can you forget what you never 
 knew? he! he! he! 
 
 Honey. May I beg leave to ask your name? 
 
 Bail. Yes, you may. 
 
 Honey. Then, pray, Sir, what is your name? 
 
 Bail. That I did n't promise to tell you. He! he! 
 he! A joke breaks no bones, as we say among 
 us that practise the law. 
 
 Honey. You may have reason for keeping it a 
 secret, perhaps? 
 
 Bail. The law does nothing without reason. 
 
 58 
 
(BooNIRatureb flDan 59 
 
 I 'm ashamed to tell my name to no man, Sir. If 
 you can show cause, as why, upon a special capus, 
 that I should prove my name But, come, Timothy 
 Twitch is my name. And, now you know my 
 name, what have you to say to that ? 
 
 Honey. Nothing in the world, good Mr. Twitch, 
 but that I have a favour to ask, that 's all. 
 
 Bail. Ay, favours are more easily asked than 
 granted, as we say among us that practise the 
 law. I have taken an oath against granting 
 favours. Would you have me perjure myself? 
 
 Honey. But my request will come recommended 
 in so strong a manner as, I believe, you 11 have no 
 scruple (pulling out his purse). The thing is only 
 this. I believe I shall be able to discharge this 
 trifle in two or three days at farthest; but as I 
 would not have the affair known for the world, I 
 have thoughts of keeping you, and your good 
 friend here, about me, till the debt is discharged; 
 for which I shall be properly grateful. 
 
 Bail. Oh ! that 's another maxum, and altogether 
 within my oath. For certain, if an honest man is 
 to get anything by a thing, there 's no reason why 
 all things should not be done in civility. 
 
 Honey. Doubtless, all trades must live, Mr. 
 Twitch; and yours is a necessary one. 
 
 [Gives him money. 
 
60 Gbe <5oo&*1Rature& flDan 
 
 Bail. Oh! your honour, I hope your honour 
 takes nothing amiss as I does, as I does nothing 
 but my duty in so doing. I 'm sure no man can 
 say I ever give a gentleman, that was a gentleman, 
 ill usage. If I saw that a gentleman was a gentle- 
 man, I have taken money not to see him for ten 
 weeks together. 
 
 Honey. Tenderness is a virtue, Mr. Twitch. 
 
 Bail. Ay, Sir, it 's a perfect treasure. I love 
 to see a gentleman with a tender heart. I don't 
 know, but I think I have a tender heart myself. 
 If all that I have lost by my heart was put to- 
 gether, it would make a but no matter for 
 that. 
 
 Honey. Don't account it lost, Mr. Twitch. 
 The ingratitude of the world can never deprive us 
 of the conscious happiness of having acted with 
 humanity ourselves. 
 
 Bail. Humanity, Sir, is a jewel. It's better 
 than gold. I love humanity. People may say 
 that we in our way have no humanity; but I '11 
 show you my humanity this moment. There 's 
 my follower here, little Flanigan, with a wife and 
 four children, a guinea or two would be more to 
 him, than twice as much to another. Now, as I 
 can't show him any humanity myself, I must beg 
 leave you '11 do it for me. 
 
(Boo^lRaturefc flDan 61 
 
 Honey. I assure you, Mr. Twitch, yours is a 
 most powerful recommendation. 
 
 [Giving money to the Follower. 
 
 Bail. Sir, you're a gentleman. I see you know 
 what to do with your money. But to business: 
 we are to be with you here as your friends, I sup- 
 pose. But set in case company comes. Little 
 Flanigan here, to be sure, has a good face, a very 
 good face; but then, he is a little seedy, as we 
 say among us that practise the law. Not well in 
 clothes. Smoke the pocket-holes. 
 
 Honey. Well, that shall be remedied without 
 delay. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Sir, Miss Richland is below. 
 
 Honey. How unlucky! Detain her a moment. 
 We must improve my good friend little Mr. Flani- 
 gan's appearance first. Here, let Mr. Flanigan 
 have a suit of my clothes quick the brown and 
 silver. Do you hear ? 
 
 Serv. That your honour gave away to the beg- 
 ging gentleman that makes verses, because it was 
 as good as new. 
 
 Honey. The white and gold then. 
 
 Serv. That, your honour, I made bold to sell, 
 because it was good for nothing. 
 
 Honey. Well, the first that comes to hand then. 
 
62 Gbe <5oob*1Flatureb flDan 
 
 The blue and gold then. I believe Mr. Flanigan 
 will look best in blue. [Exit FLANIGAN. 
 
 Bail. Rabbit me, but little Flanigan will look 
 well in anything. Ah, if your honour knew that 
 bit of flesh as well as I do you 'd be perfectly in love 
 with him. There 's not a prettier scout in the four 
 counties after a shy-cock than he: scents like a 
 hound; sticks like a weasel. He was master of the 
 ceremonies to the black queen of Morocco, when I 
 took him to follow me. (Re-enter FLANIGAN.) 
 Heh, ecod, I think he looks so well that I don't care 
 if I have a suit from the same place for myself. 
 
 Honey. Well, well, I hear the lady coming. 
 Dear Mr. Twitch, I beg you '11 give your friend 
 directions not to speak. As for yourself, I know 
 you will say nothing without being directed. 
 
 Bail. Never you fear me ; I '11 show the lady 
 that I have something to say for myself as well as 
 another. One man has one way of talking, and 
 another man has another, that 's all the difference 
 between them. 
 
 Enter Miss RICHLAND and her Maid. 
 
 Miss Rick. You '11 be surprised, Sir, with this 
 visit. But you know I 'm yet to thank you for 
 choosing my little library. 
 
 Honey. Thanks, Madam, are unnecessary as 
 
Gbe <5oob*1Rature& flDan 65 
 
 it was I that was obliged by your commands. 
 Chairs here. Two of my very good friends, Mr. 
 Twitch and Mr. Flanigan. Pray, gentlemen, sit 
 without ceremony. 
 
 Miss Rich. Who can these odd-looking men 
 be! I fear it is as I was informed. It must be 
 so. [Aside. 
 
 Bail. (After a pause) Pretty weather; very- 
 pretty weather for the time of year, Madam. 
 
 Fol. Very good circuit weather in the country. 
 
 Honey. You officers are generally favourites 
 among the ladies. My friends, Madam, have 
 been upon very disagreeable duty, I assure you. 
 The fair should in some measure recompense the 
 toils of the brave. 
 
 Miss Rich. Our officers do indeed deserve 
 every favour. The gentlemen are in the marine 
 service, I presume, Sir? 
 
 Honey. Why, Madam, they do occasionally 
 serve in the fleet, Madam. A dangerous ser- 
 vice! 
 
 Miss Rich. I 'm told so. And I own it has 
 often surprised me, that while we have had so 
 many instances of bravery there, we have had so 
 few of wit at home to praise it. 
 
 Honey. I grant, Madam, that our poets have 
 not written as our soldiers have fought; but they 
 
64 
 
 have done all they could, and Hawke or Amherst 
 could do no more. 
 
 Miss Rich. I 'm quite displeased when I see a 
 fine subject spoiled by a dull writer. 
 
 Honey. We should not be so severe against 
 dull writers, Madam. It is ten to one but the 
 dullest writer exceeds the most rigid French critic 
 who presumes to despise him. 
 
 Fol. Damn the French, the parle vous, and 
 all that belongs to them. 
 
 Miss Rich. Sir! 
 
 Honey. Ha, ha, ha! honest Mr. Flanigan. A 
 true English officer, Madam; he 's not contented 
 with beating the French, but he will scold them 
 too. 
 
 Miss Rich. Yet, Mr. Honeywood, this does 
 not convince me but that severity in criticism is 
 necessary. It was our first adopting the severity 
 of French taste that has brought them in turn to 
 taste us. 
 
 Bail. Taste us! By the Lord, Madam, they 
 devour us. Give monseers but a taste, and I '11 be 
 damn'd but they come in for a bellyfull. 
 
 Miss Rich. Very extraordinary this! 
 
 Fol. But very true. What makes the bread 
 rising? the parle vous that devour us. What 
 makes the mutton fivepence a pound? the parle 
 
(BooMRatureb flDan 65 
 
 vous that eat it up. What makes the beer three- 
 pence-halfpenny a pot ? 1 
 
 Honey. Ah! the vulgar rogues; all will be out 
 (aside). Right, gentlemen, very right, upon my 
 word, and quite to the purpose. They draw a 
 parallel, Madam, between the mental taste and 
 that of our senses. We are injured as much by the 
 French severity in the one, as by French rapacity 
 in the other. That's their meaning. 
 
 Miss Rich. Though I don't see the force of the 
 parallel, yet I '11 own that we should some- 
 times pardon books, as we do our friends, that 
 have now and then agreeable absurdities to re- 
 commend them. 
 
 Bail. That 's all my eye. The king only can 
 pardon, as the law says : for, set in case 
 
 Honey. I 'm quite of your opinion, Sir. I see 
 the whole drift of your argument. Yes, certainly 
 our presuming to pardon any work is arrogating 
 a power that belongs to another. If all have 
 power to condemn, what writer can be free? 
 
 Bail. By his habus corpus. His habus cor- 
 pus can set him free at any time: for, set in 
 case 
 
 " Who makes the quartern loaf and Luddites rise ? 
 Who fills the butchers' shops with large blue flies?" 
 
 Rejected Addresses (Imitation of Fitzgerald.) 
 VOL. n. 5 
 
66 Ebe <5oob*1Raturet> fl&an 
 
 Honey. I 'm obliged to you, Sir, for the hint, 
 If, Madam, as my friend observes, our laws are 
 so careful of a gentleman's person, sure we ought 
 to be equally careful of his dearer part, his 
 fame. 
 
 Fol. Ay, but if so be a man's nabb'd, you 
 know 
 
 Honey. Mr. Flanigan, if you spoke for ever, 
 you could not improve the last observation. For 
 my own part, I think it conclusive. 
 
 Bail. As for the matter of that, mayhap 
 
 Honey. Nay, Sir, give me leave in this instance 
 to be positive. For where is the necessity of cen- 
 suring works without genius, which must shortly 
 sink of themselves? what is it, but aiming an un- 
 necessary blow against a victim already under 
 the hands of justice? 
 
 Bail. Justice! O, by the elevens, if you talk 
 about justice, I think I am at home there: for, in 
 course of law 
 
 Honey. My dear Mr. Twitch, I discern what 
 you 'd be at, perfectly; and I believe the lady must 
 be sensible of the art with which it is introduced. 
 I suppose you perceive the meaning, Madam, of 
 his course of law. 
 
 Miss Rich. I protest, Sir, I do not. I per- 
 ceive only that you answer one gentleman before 
 
(Boob-matuteb flDan 67 
 
 he has finished, and the other before he has well 
 begun. 
 
 Bail. Madam, you are a gentlewoman, and I 
 will make the matter out. This here question is 
 about severity and justice, and pardon, and the 
 like of they. Now, to explain the thing 
 
 Honey. O! curse your explanations. [Aside. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. Mr. Leontine, Sir, below, desires to speak 
 with you upon earnest business. 
 
 Honey. That 's lucky (aside). Dear Madam, 
 you 11 excuse me and my good friends here, for a 
 few minutes. There are books, Madam, to amuse 
 you. Come, gentlemen, you know I make no 
 ceremony with such friends. After you, Sir. 
 Excuse me. Well, if I must. But I know your 
 natural politeness. 
 
 Bail. Before and behind, you know. 
 
 Fol. Ay, ay, before and behind, before and be- 
 hind. [Exeunt HONEYWOOD, Bailiff and Follower. 
 
 Miss Rich. What can all this mean, Garnet? 
 
 Garn. Mean, Madam! why, what should it mean 
 but what Mr. Lofty sent you here to see? These 
 people he calls officers are officers sure enough 
 sheriff's officers; bailiffs, Madam. 
 
 Miss Rich. Ay, it is certainly so. Well, though 
 
68 $be (Boob^matureb flDan 
 
 his perplexities are far from giving me pleasure, yet, 
 I own there is something very ridiculous in them, 
 and a just punishment for his dissimulation. 
 
 Garn. And so they are. But I wonder, Madam, 
 that the lawyer you just employed to pay his 
 debts and set him free has not done it by this 
 time. He ought at least to have been here before 
 now. But lawyers are always more ready to get a 
 man into troubles than out of them. 
 
 Enter SIR WILLIAM HONEYWOOD. 
 
 Sir Wm. For Miss Richland to undertake 
 setting him free, I own, was quite unexpected. It 
 has totally unhinged my schemes to reclaim him. 
 Yet it gives me pleasure to find that, among a 
 number of worthless friendships, he has made one 
 acquisition of real value; for there must be some 
 softer passion on her side that prompts this gener- 
 osity. Ha! here before me: I '11 endeavour to 
 sound her affections. Madam, as I am the person 
 that have had some demands upon the gentle- 
 man of this house, I hope you 11 excuse me, if, 
 before I enlarged him, I wanted to see yourself. 
 
 Miss Rich. The precaution was very unneces- 
 sary, Sir. I suppose your wants were only such 
 as my agent had power to satisfy. 
 
 Sir Wm. Partly, Madam. But I was also 
 
flDan 69 
 
 willing you should be fully apprised of the charac- 
 ter of the gentleman you intended to serve. 
 
 Miss Rich. It must come, Sir, with a very ill 
 grace from you. To censure it after what you 
 have done would look like malice; and to speak 
 favourably of a character you have oppressed 
 would be impeaching your own. And sure, his 
 tenderness, his humanity, his universal friendship, 
 may atone for many faults. 
 
 Sir Wm. That friendship, Madam, which is 
 exerted in too wide a sphere becomes totally use- 
 less. Our bounty, like a drop of water, disappears 
 when diffused too widely. They who pretend 
 most to this universal benevolence are either 
 deceivers or dupes: men who desire to cover their 
 private ill-nature by a pretended regard for all; 
 or men who, reasoning themselves into false feel- 
 ings, are more earnest in pursuit of splendid than 
 of useful virtues. 
 
 Miss Rich. I am surprised, Sir, to hear one 
 who has probably been a gainer by the folly of 
 others so severe in his censure of it. 
 
 Sir Wm. Whatever I may have gained by 
 folly, Madam, you see I am willing to prevent your 
 losing by it. 
 
 Miss Rich. Your cares for me, Sir, are unneces- 
 sary. I always suspect those services which are de- 
 
70 tTbe (Boo^lftatureb flDan 
 
 nied where they are wanted, and offered perhaps 
 in hopes of a refusal. No, Sir, my directions have 
 been given, and I insist upon their being complied 
 with. 
 
 Sir Wm. Thou amiable woman! I can no 
 longer contain the expressions of my gratitude, my 
 pleasure. You see before you one who has been 
 equally careful of his interest; one who has for 
 some time been a concealed spectator of his follies, 
 and only punished in hopes to reclaim him his 
 uncle! 
 
 Miss Rich. Sir William Honeywood! You 
 amaze me. How shall I conceal my confusion? 
 I fear, Sir, you 11 think I have been too forward 
 in my services. I confess I 
 
 Sir Wm. Don't make any apologies, Madam. 
 I only find myself unable to repay the obligation. 
 And yet, I have been trying my interest of late 
 to serve you. Having learnt, Madam, that you 
 had some demands upon Government, I have, 
 though unasked, been your solicitor there. 
 
 Miss Rich. Sir, I 'm infinitely obliged to your 
 attentions. But my guardian has employed an- 
 other gentleman, who assures him of success. 
 
 Sir Wm. Who, the important little man that 
 visits here? Trust me, Madam, he's quite con- 
 temptible among men in power, and utterly unable 
 
(BooMRaturefc fDan 7* 
 
 to serve you. Mr. Lofty's promises are much 
 better known to people of fashion than his per- 
 son, I assure you. 
 
 Miss Rich. How have we been deceived! As 
 sure as can be, here he comes. 
 
 Sir Wm. Does he ? Remember I 'm to continue 
 unknown. My return to England has not yet been 
 made public. With what impudence he enters! 
 
 Enter LOFTY. 
 
 Lofty. Let the chariot let my chariot drive 
 off; I '11 visit to his Grace's in a chair. Miss Rich- 
 land here before me! Punctual, as usual, to the 
 calls of humanity. I 'm very sorry, Madam, things 
 of this kind should happen, especially to a man I 
 have shown everywhere, and carried amongst us 
 as a particular aquaintance. 
 
 Miss Rich. I find, Sir, you have the art of 
 making the misfortunes of others your own. 
 
 Lofty. My dear Madam, what can a private 
 man like me do? One man can't do everything; 
 and then, I do so much in this way every day. 
 Let me see: something considerable might be 
 done for him by subscription; it could not fail 
 if I carried the list. I '11 undertake to set down 
 a brace of dukes, two dozen lords, and half the 
 lower house, at my own peril. 
 
72 Ebe <5ooNflature& flDan 
 
 Sir Wm. And, after all, it 's more than proba- 
 ble, Sir, he might reject the offer of such powerful 
 patronage. 
 
 Lofty. Then, Madam, what can we do? You 
 know I never make promises. In truth, I once 
 or twice tried to do something with him in the 
 way of business; but, as I often told his uncle, 
 Sir William Honeywood, the man was utterly 
 impracticable. 
 
 Sir Wm. His uncle! then that gentleman, I 
 suppose, is a particular friend of yours. 
 
 Lofty. Meaning me, Sir? Yes, Madam, as I 
 often said, " My dear Sir William, you are sensible 
 I would do anything, as far as my poor interest 
 goes, to serve your family: but what can be done? 
 there 's no procuring first-rate places for ninth- 
 rate abilities/* 
 
 Miss Rich. I have heard of Sir William Hon- 
 eywood; he 's abroad in employment: he confided 
 in your judgment, I suppose ? 
 
 Lofty. Why, yes, Madam, I believe Sir William 
 had some reason to confide in my judgment; one 
 little reason, perhaps. 
 
 Miss Rich. Pray, Sir, what was it? 
 
 Lofty. Why, Madam but let it go no further 
 it was I procured him his place. 
 
 Sir Wm. Did you, Sir? 
 
73 
 
 Lofty. Either you or I, Sir. 
 
 Miss Rich. This, Mr. Lofty, was very kind 
 indeed. 
 
 Lofty. I did love him, to be sure; he had some 
 amusing qualities; no man was fitter to be a 
 toast-master to a club, or had a better head. 
 
 Miss Rich. A better head ? 
 
 Lofty. Ay, at a bottle. To be sure, he was 
 as dull as a choice spirit; but, hang it, he was 
 grateful, very grateful; and gratitude hides a 
 multitude of faults. 
 
 Sir Wm. He might have reason, perhaps. 
 His place is pretty considerable, I 'm told. 
 
 Lofty. A trifle, a mere trifle among us men of 
 business. The truth is, he wanted dignity to fill 
 up a greater. 
 
 Sir Wm. Dignity of person, do you mean, 
 Sir ? I 'm told he 's much about my size and figure, 
 Sir. 
 
 Lofty. Ay, tall enough for a marching regi- 
 ment; but then he wanted a something a conse- 
 quence of form a kind of a I believe the lady 
 perceives my meaning. 
 
 Miss Rich. Oh, perfectly; you courtiers can do 
 anything, I see. 
 
 Lofty. My dear Madam, all this is but a mere 
 exchange; we do greater things for one another 
 
74 be <5oob*1Rature& flDan 
 
 every day. Why, as thus, now: let me suppose 
 you the First Lord of the Treasury; you have an 
 employment in you that I want; I have a place 
 in me that you want: do me here, do you there: 
 interest of both sides, few words, flat, done and 
 done, and it 's over. 
 
 Sir Wm. A thought strikes me (aside). Now 
 you mention Sir William Honeywood, Madam, 
 and as he seems, Sir, an acquaintance of yours, 
 you 11 be glad to hear he is arrived from Italy; 
 I had it from a friend who knows him as 
 well as he does me, and you may depend on my 
 information. 
 
 Lofty. The devil he is! If I had known that, 
 we should not have been quite so well acquainted .. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Sir Wm. He is certainly returned; and as this 
 gentleman is a friend of yours, he can be of signal 
 service to us, by introducing me to him: there are 
 some papers relative to your affairs that require 
 despatch, and his inspection. 
 
 Miss Rich. This gentleman, Mr. Lofty, is a 
 person employed in my affairs: I know you 11 
 serve us. 
 
 Lofty. My dear Madam, I live but to serve you. 
 Sir William shall even wait upon him, if you think 
 proper to command it. 
 
fIDan 75 
 
 Sir Wm. That would be quite unnecessary. 
 
 Lofty. Well, we must introduce you, then. 
 Call upon me let me see ay, in two days. 
 
 Sir Wm. Now, or the opportunity will be lost 
 for ever. 
 
 Lofty. Well, if it must be now, now let it be. 
 But damn it, that 's unfortunate; my Lord Grig's 
 cursed Pensacola business comes on this very hour, 
 and I 'm engaged to attend another time 
 
 Sir Wm. A short letter to Sir William will do. 
 
 Lofty. You shall have it; yet, in my opinion, 
 a letter is a very bad way of going to work; face 
 to face, that 's the way 
 
 Sir Wm. The letter, Sir, will do quite as 
 well. 
 
 Lofty. Zounds! Sir, do you pretend to direct 
 me? direct me in the business of office? Do you 
 know me, Sir? Who am I? 
 
 Miss Rich. Dear Mr. Lofty, this request is not 
 so much his as mine; if my commands but you 
 despise my power. 
 
 Lofty. Delicate creature! your commands could 
 even control a debate at midnight: to a power so 
 constitutional, I am all obedience and tran- 
 quillity. He shall have a letter: where is my 
 secretary? Dubardieu! And yet, I protest I 
 don't like this way of doing business. I think 
 
76 Ebe <3ooMRature& fl&an 
 
 if I spoke first to Sir William But you will have 
 it so. 
 
 [Exit with Miss RICHLAND. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM (alone.) 
 
 Ha, ha, ha! This, too, is one of my nephew's 
 hopeful associates. O vanity, thou constant de- 
 ceiver, how do all thy efforts to exalt serve but to 
 sink us! Thy false colourings, like those employed 
 to heighten beauty, only seem to mend that bloom 
 which they contribute to destroy. I 'm not dis- 
 pleased at this interview: exposing this fellow's 
 impudence to the contempt it deserves, may be of 
 use to my design; at least, if he can reflect, it will 
 be of use to himself. 
 
 Enter JARVIS. 
 
 Sir Wm. How now, Jarvis, where 's your mas- 
 ter, my nephew? 
 
 Jarvis. At his wit's ends, I believe: he 's scarce 
 gotten out of one scrape, but he 's running his 
 head into another. 
 
 Sir Wm. How so? 
 
 Jarvis. The house has but just been cleared of 
 the bailiffs, and now he 's again engaging, tooth and 
 nail, in assisting old Croaker's son to patch up a 
 clandestine match with the young lady that passes 
 in the house for his sister. 
 
fIDan 77 
 
 Sir Wm. Ever busy to serve others. 
 
 Jarvis. Ay, anybody but himself. The young 
 couple, it seems, are just setting out for Scotland; 
 and he supplies them with money for the journey. 
 
 Sir Wm. Money! how is he able to supply 
 others, who has scarce any for himself? 
 
 Jarvis. Why, there it is: he has no money 
 that 's true; but then, as he never said " no " to any 
 request in his life, he has given them a bill, drawn 
 by a friend of his upon a merchant in the city, 
 which I am to get changed; for you must know 
 that I am to go with them to Scotland myself. 
 
 Sir Wm. How! 
 
 Jarvis. It seems the young gentleman is 
 obliged to take a different road from his mistress, 
 as he is to call upon an uncle of his that lives out 
 of the way, in order to prepare a place for their 
 reception when they return; so they have bor- 
 rowed me from my master, as the properest per- 
 son to attend the young lady down. 
 
 Sir Wm. To the land of matrimony! A pleas- 
 ant journey, Jarvis. 
 
 Jarvis. Ay, but I 'm only to have all the fa- 
 tigues on 't. 
 
 Sir Wm. Well, it may be shorter, and less 
 fatiguing, than you imagine. I know but too 
 much of the young lady's family and connections, 
 
78 Ebe <5oot>*1Raturet> fIDan 
 
 whom I have seen abroad. I have also discovered 
 that Miss Richland is not indifferent to my thought- 
 less nephew, and will endeavour, though I fear in 
 vain, to establish that connection. But, come, the 
 letter I wait for must be almost finished; 1 11 let 
 you further into my intentions, in the next room. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT THE FOURTH 
 
 SCENE CROAKER'S House. 
 
 Lofty. Well, sure the devil's in me of late, for 
 running my head into such defiles as nothing but 
 a genius like my own could draw me from. I was 
 formerly contented to husband out my places and 
 pensions with some degree of frugality; but, curse 
 it, of late I have given away the whole Court Reg- 
 ister in less time than they could print the 
 title-page: yet, hang it, why scruple a lie or two to 
 come at a fine girl, when I every day tell a thou- 
 sand for nothing. Ha! Honeywood here before 
 me! Could Miss Richland have set him at liberty? 
 
 Enter HONEYWOOD. 
 
 Mr. Honeywood, I 'm glad to see you abroad 
 again. I find my concurrence was not necessary 
 in your unfortunate affairs. I had put things in 
 a train to do your business, but it is not for me to 
 say what I intended doing. 
 
 Honey. It was unfortunate indeed, Sir. But 
 what adds to my uneasiness is that, while 
 
 79 
 
<5oob*Katureb flDan 
 
 you seem to be acquainted with my misfor- 
 tune, I myself continue still a stranger to my 
 benefactor. 
 
 Lofty. How! not know the friend that served 
 you? 
 
 Honey. Can't guess at the person. 
 
 Lofty. Inquire. 
 
 Honey. I have; but all I can learn is that he 
 chooses to remain concealed, and that all inquiry 
 must be fruitless. 
 
 Lofty. Must be fruitless! 
 
 Honey. Absolutely fruitless. 
 
 Lofty. Sure of that? 
 
 Honey. Very sure. 
 
 Lofty. Then I '11 be damn'd if you shall ever 
 know it from me. 
 
 Honey. How, Sir? 
 
 Lofty. I suppose now, Mr. Honeywood, you 
 think my rent-roll very considerable, and that I 
 have vast sums of money to throw away; I know 
 you do. The world, to be sure, says such things 
 of me. 
 
 Honey. The world, by what I learn, is no 
 stranger to your generosity. But where does 
 this tend? 
 
 Lofty. To nothing; nothing in the world. The 
 town, to be sure, when it makes such a thing as 
 
(Boob^lWaturefc flfoan 81 
 
 me the subject of conversation, has asserted that 
 I never yet patronised a man of merit. 
 
 Honey. I have heard instances to the contrary, 
 even from yourself. 
 
 Lofty. Yes, Honeywood; and there are in- 
 stances to the contrary that you shall never hear 
 from myself. 
 
 Honey. Ha! dear Sir, permit me to ask you but 
 one question. 
 
 Lofty. Sir, ask me no questions; I say, Sir, ask 
 me no questions; I '11 be damn'd if I answer 
 them. 
 
 Honey. I will ask no further. My friend! my 
 benefactor! it is, it must be here, that I am in- 
 debted for freedom, for honour. Yes, thou wor- 
 thiest of men, from the beginning I suspected it, 
 but was afraid to return thanks; which, if unde- 
 served, might seem reproaches. 
 
 Lofty. I protest I do not understand all this, 
 Mr. Honeywood: you treat me very cavalierly. I 
 do assure you, Sir Blood! Sir, can't a man be 
 permitted to enjoy the luxury of his own feelings, 
 without all this parade? 
 
 Honey. Nay, do not attempt to conceal an 
 action that adds to your honour. Your looks, 
 your air, your manner, all confess it. 
 
 Lofty. Confess it, Sir! torture itself, Sir, shall 
 
 VOL. II. 6 
 
82 Ebe <5ooMRatureb flDan 
 
 never bring me to confess it. Mr. Honeywood, I 
 have admitted you upon terms of friendship. 
 Don't let us fall out; make me happy, and let this 
 be buried in oblivion. You know I hate ostenta- 
 tion; you know I do. Come, come, Honeywood, 
 you know I always loved to be a friend, and not a 
 patron. I beg this may make no kind of distance 
 between us. Come, come, you and I must be more 
 familiar indeed we must. 
 
 Honey. Heavens ! Can I ever repay such friend- 
 ship? Is there any way? Thou best of men, can 
 I ever return the obligation? 
 
 Lofty. A bagatelle, a mere bagatelle! But I see 
 your heart is labouring to be grateful. You shall 
 be grateful. It would be cruel to disappoint you. 
 
 Honey. How! teach me the manner. Is there 
 any way? 
 
 Lofty. From this moment you're mine. Yes, 
 my friend, you shall know it I 'm in love. 
 
 Honey. And can I assist you? 
 
 Lofty. Nobody so well. 
 
 Honey. In what manner? I 'm all impatience. 
 
 Lofty. You shall make love for me. 
 
 Honey. And to whom shall I speak in your 
 favour? 
 
 Lofty. To a lady with whom you have great 
 interest, I assure you: Miss Richland. 
 
<Boob*1Rature& flDan 83 
 
 Honey. Miss Richland! 
 
 Lofty. Yes, Miss Richland. She has struck 
 the blow up to the hilt in my bosom, by Jupiter! 
 
 Honey. Heavens! was ever anything more un- 
 fortunate? It is too much to be endured. 
 
 Lofty. Unfortunate, indeed! And yet I can 
 endure it, till you have opened the affair to her 
 for me. Between ourselves, I think she likes 
 me. I 'm not apt to boast, but I think she does. 
 
 Honey. Indeed! But, do you know the person 
 you apply to ? 
 
 Lofty. Yes, I know you are her friend and mine: 
 that 's enough. To you, therefore, I commit the 
 success of my passion. I '11 say no more, let friend- 
 ship do the rest. I have only to add that if at any 
 time my little interest can be of service but, hang 
 it, 1 11 make no promises you know my interest 
 is yours at any time. No apologies, my friend, I '11 
 not be answered; it shall be so. [Exit. 
 
 Honey. Open, generous, unsuspecting man! 
 He little thinks that I love her too; and with such 
 an ardent passion! But then it was ever but a 
 vain and hopeless one; my torment, my persecu- 
 tion! What shall I do? Love, friendship; a hope- 
 less passion, a deserving friend! Love, that has 
 been my tormentor; a friend, that has, perhaps, 
 distressed himself to serve me. It shall be so. 
 
84 ftbe <5oob*1Ratureb fIDan 
 
 Yes, I will discard the fondling from my bosom f 
 and exert all my influence in his favour. And yet 
 to see her in the possession of another! Insup- 
 portable! But then to betray a generous, trusting 
 friend! Worse, worse! Yes, I 'm resolved. Let 
 me but be the instrument of their happiness, and 
 then quit a country where I must for ever despair 
 of finding my own. [Exit. 
 
 Enter OLIVIA and GARNET, who carries a milliner's box. 
 
 Olivia. Dear me, I wish this journey was over. 
 No news of Jarvis yet? I believe the old peevish 
 creature delays purely to vex me. 
 
 Garnet. Why, to be sure, Madam, I did hear 
 him say a little snubbing before marriage would 
 teach you to bear it the better afterwards. 
 
 Olivia. To be gone a full hour, though he 
 had only to get a bill changed in the city! How 
 provoking! 
 
 Garnet. I '11 lay my life, Mr. Leontine, that had 
 twice as much to do, is setting off by this time 
 from his inn; and here you are left behind. 
 
 Olivia. Well, let us be prepared for his coming, 
 however. Are you sure you have omitted nothing, 
 Garnet? 
 
 Garnet. Not a stick, Madam all 's here. Yet 
 I wish you could take the white and silver to be 
 
Gbe <5oo&*1Rature& flDan 85 
 
 married in. It 's the worst luck in the world, in 
 anything but white. I knew one Bett Stubbs, 
 of our town, that was married in red; and, as sure 
 as eggs is eggs, the bridegroom and she had a miff 
 before morning. 
 
 Olivia. No matter. I 'm all impatience till we 
 are out of the house. 
 
 Garnet. Bless me, Madam, I had almost forgot- 
 ten the wedding ring! The sweet little thing I 
 don't think it would go on my little finger. And 
 what if I put in a gentleman's night-cap, in case 
 of necessity, Madam? But here 's Jarvis. 
 
 Enter JARVIS. 
 
 Olivia. O Jarvis, are you come at last? We 
 have been ready this half hour. Now let's be 
 going. Let us fly! 
 
 Jarvis. Ay, to Jericho; for we shall have no 
 going to Scotland this bout, I fancy. 
 
 Olivia. How! what's the matter? 
 
 Jarvis. Money, money, is the matter, Madam. 
 We have got no money. What the plague do you 
 send me of your fool's errand for? My master's 
 bill upon the city is not worth a rush. Here it is; 
 Mrs. Garnet may pin up her hair with it. 
 
 Olivia. Undone ! How could Honey wood serve 
 us so ! What shall we do ? Can't we go without it ? 
 
86 Gbe <5oob*1Ratureb flDan 
 
 Jarvis. Go to Scotland without money! To 
 Scotland without money! Lord, how some people 
 understand geography! We might as well set sail 
 for Patagonia upon a cork- jacket. 
 
 Olivia. Such a disappointment! What a base 
 insincere man was your master, to serve us in this 
 manner! Is this his good-nature? 
 
 Jarvis. Nay, don't talk ill of my master, 
 Madam. I won't bear to hear any body talk ill 
 of him but myself. 
 
 Garnet. Bless us! now I think on 't, Madam, 
 you need not be under any uneasiness: I saw Mr. 
 Leontine receive forty guineas from his father just 
 before he set out, and he can't have left the inn. 
 A short letter will reach him there. 
 
 Olivia. Well remembered, Garnet; I'll write 
 immediately. How's this! Bless me, my hand 
 trembles so, I can't write a word. Do you write, 
 Garnet; and, upon second thought, it will be better 
 from you. 
 
 Garnet. Truly, Madam, I write and indite but 
 poorly. I never was cute at my laming. But I'll 
 do what I can to please you. Let me see. All 
 out of my own head, I suppose! 
 
 Olivia. Whatever you please. 
 
 Garnet. (Writing). Muster Croaker Twenty 
 guineas, Madam? 
 
nDan 87 
 
 Olivia. Ay, twenty will do. 
 
 Garnet. At the bar of the Talbot till called for. 
 Expedition Will be blown up All of a flame 
 Quick dispatch Cupid the little god of love. I 
 conclude it, Madam, with Cupid! I love to see a 
 love-letter end like poetry. 
 
 Olivia. Well, well, what you please, anything. 
 But how shall we send it ? I can trust none of the 
 servants of this family. 
 
 Garnet. Odso, Madam, Mr. Honeywood's but- 
 ler is in the next room: he's a dear, sweet man; hell 
 do anything for me. 
 
 Jarvis. He ! the dog ! he '11 certainly commit some 
 blunder. He's drunk and sober ten times a-day. 
 
 Olivia. No matter. Fly, Garnet; anybody we 
 can trust will do. (Exit GARNET.) Well, Jarvis, 
 now we can have nothing more to interrupt us; you 
 may take up the things, and carry them on to the 
 inn. Have you no hands, Jarvis ? 
 
 Jarvis. Soft and fair, young lady. You, that 
 are going to be married, think things can never be 
 done too fast; but we, that are old, and know what 
 we are about, must elope methodically, Madam. 
 
 Olivia. Well, sure, if my indiscretions were to 
 be done over again 
 
 Jarvis. My life for it, you would do them ten 
 times over. 
 
88 Gbe <5ooMRatureb flDan 
 
 Olivia. Why will you talk so? If you knew 
 how unhappy they make me 
 
 Jarvis. Very unhappy, no doubt: I was once 
 just as unhappy when I was going to be married 
 myself. I'll tell you a story about that 
 
 Olivia. A story! when I'm all impatience to be 
 away. Was there ever such a dilatory creature! 
 
 Jarvis. Well, Madam, if we must march, why 
 we will march, that's all. Though, odds-bobs, we 
 have still forgot one thing; we should never travel 
 without a case of good razors, and a box of shav- 
 ing powder. But no matter, I believe we shall 
 be pretty well shaved by the way. [Going. 
 
 Enter GARNET. 
 
 Garnet. Undone, undone, Madam. Ah, Mr. 
 Jarvis, you said right enough. As sure as death, 
 Mr. Honeywood's rogue of a drunken butler drop- 
 ped the letter before he went ten yards from the 
 door. There 's old Croaker has just picked it up, and 
 is this moment reading it to himself in the hall. 
 
 Olivia. Unfortunate ! we shall be discovered. 
 
 Garnet. No Madam; don't be uneasy; he can 
 neither make head nor tail of it. To be sure he 
 looks as if he was broke loose from Bedlam about 
 it, but he can't find what it means for all that. O 
 lud, he is coming this way all in the horrors. 
 
89 
 
 Olivia. Then let us leave the house this instant, 
 for fear he should ask further questions. In the 
 mean time, Garnet, do you write and send off just 
 such another. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Death and destruction! Are all the hor- 
 rors of air, fire, and water, to be levelled only at 
 me? Am I only to be singled out for gunpowder 
 plots, combustibles, and conflagration? Here it 
 is an incendiary letter dropped at my door. ' ' To 
 Muster Croaker, these with speed." Ay, ay, plain 
 enough the direction: all in the genuine incendiary 
 spelling, and as cramp as the devil. ' ' With speed. " 
 O, confound your speed. But let me read it once 
 more. (Reads.) " Muster Croaker, as sone as yow 
 see this, leve twenty gunnes at the bar of the Tal- 
 boot tell caled for, or yowe and yower experetion 
 will be al blown up." Ah, but too plain. Blood 
 and gunpowder in every line of it. Blown up! 
 murderous dog! all blown up! Heavens! what have 
 I and my poor family done, to be all blown up? 
 (Reads.) ' ' Our pockets are low, and money we must 
 have." Ay, there 's the reason; they 11 blow us up, 
 because they have got low pockets. (Reads) ' ' It is 
 but a short time you have to consider; for if this 
 takes the wind, the house will quickly be all of a 
 
90 Ebe <5oob*mature& fIDan 
 
 flame." Inhuman monsters! blow us up, and then 
 burn us! The earthquake at Lisbon was but a bon- 
 fire to it. (Reads.) "Make quick dispatch, and so 
 no more at present. But may Cupid, the little god 
 of love, go with you wherever you go." The little 
 god of love! Cupid, the little god of love, go with 
 me! Go you to the devil, you and your little Cupid 
 together. I 'm so frightened, I scarce know whether 
 I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this moment I 'm 
 treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, 
 and barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to 
 blow me up into the clouds. Murder! we shall be all 
 burnt in our beds; we shall be all burnt in our beds. 
 
 Enter Miss HIGHLAND. 
 
 Miss Rich. Lord, Sir, what's the matter ? 
 
 Cro. Murder's the matter? We shall all be 
 blown up in our beds before morning. 
 
 Miss Rich. I hope not, Sir. 
 
 Cro. What signifies what you hope, Madam, 
 when I have a certificate of it here in my hand? 
 Will nothing alarm my family ? Sleeping and eat- 
 ing, sleeping and eating, is the only work from 
 morning till night in my house. My insensible 
 crew could sleep though rocked by an earthquake, 
 and fry beefsteaks at a volcano. 
 
 Miss Rich. But, Sir, you have alarmed them 
 
<5oo&-*Rature& flDan 91 
 
 so often already; we have nothing but earthquakes, 
 famines, plagues, and mad dogs, from year's end 
 to year's end. You remember, Sir, it is not above 
 a month ago, you assured us of a conspiracy among 
 the bakers, to poison us in our bread; and so kept 
 the whole family a week upon potatoes. 
 
 Cro. And potatoes were too good for them. 
 But why do I stand talking here with a girl, when 
 I should be facing the enemy without? Here, 
 John, Nicodemus, search the house. Look into 
 the cellars, to see if there be any combustibles be- 
 low; and above, in the apartments, that no matches 
 be thrown in at the windows. Let all the fires be 
 put out, and let the engine be drawn out in the 
 yard, to play upon the house in case of necessity. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Miss Rich. (Alone.) What can he mean by all 
 this? Yet why should I inquire, when he alarms 
 us in this manner almost every day. But Honey- 
 wood has desired an interview with me in private. 
 What can he mean? or rather, what means this pal- 
 pitation at his approach ? It is the first time he ever 
 showed anything in his conduct that seemed partic- 
 ular. Sure he cannot mean to but he 's here. 
 
 Enter HONEYWOOD. 
 Honey. I presumed to solicit this interview, 
 
92 Efoe <5oo&*l*atureb flDan 
 
 Madam, before I left town, to be permitted 
 
 Miss Rich. Indeed ! leaving town, Sir ? 
 
 Honey. Yes, Madam; perhaps the kingdom. 
 I have presumed, I say, to desire the favour of this 
 interview, in order to disclose something which 
 our long friendship prompts. And yet my fears 
 
 Miss Rich. His fears! What are his fears to 
 mine! (Aside.) We have indeed been long ac- 
 quainted, Sir; very long. If I remember, our 
 first meeting was at the French ambassador's. 
 Do you recollect how you were pleased to rally me 
 upon my complexion there ? 
 
 Honey. Perfectly, Madam: I presumed to re- 
 prove you for painting; but your warmer blushes 
 soon convinced the company that the colouring 
 was all from nature. 
 
 Miss Rich. And yet you only meant it in your 
 good-natured way, to make me pay a compliment 
 to myself. In the same manner you danced that 
 night with the most awkward woman in company, 
 because you saw nobody else would take her out. 
 
 Honey. Yes; and was rewarded the next night, 
 by dancing with the finest woman in company, 
 whom everybody wished to take out. 
 
 Miss Rich. Well, Sir, if you thought so then, 
 I fear your judgment has since corrected the errors 
 of a first impression. We generally show to most 
 
94 Gbe <3oot>*1Ratureb flDan 
 
 Miss Rich. I fear, Sir, I shall never find whom 
 you mean, by this description of him. 
 
 Honey. Ah, Madam, it but too plainly points 
 him out; though he should be too humble himself 
 to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to 
 understand them. 
 
 Miss Rick. Well; it would be affectation any 
 longer to pretend ignorance; and I will own, Sir, 
 I have long been prejudiced in his favour. It was 
 but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as he 
 seemed himself ignorant of its value. 
 
 Honey. I see she always loved him (Aside). 
 I find, Madam, you 're already sensible of his 
 worth, his passion. How happy is my friend, to 
 be the favourite of one with such sense to distin- 
 guish merit, and such beauty to reward it. 
 
 Miss Rick. Your friend, Sir ! What friend ? 
 
 Honey. My best friend my friend, Mr. Lofty, 
 Madam. 
 
 Miss Rick. He, Sir! 
 
 Honey. Yes, he, Madam. He is, indeed, what 
 your warmest wishes might have formed him; and 
 to his other qualities he adds that of the most 
 passionate regard for you. 
 
 Miss Rick. Amazement! No more of this, 
 I beg you, Sir. 
 
 Honey. I see your confusion, Madam, and know 
 
<5ooMRature& flDan 95 
 
 how to interpret it. And, since I so plainly read 
 the language of your heart, shall I make my friend 
 happy, by communicating your sentiments? 
 
 Miss Rich. By no means. 
 
 Honey. Excuse me, I must; I know you desire it. 
 
 Miss Rich. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell you 
 that you wrong my sentiments and yourself. When 
 I first applied to your friendship, I expected ad- 
 vice and assistance; but now, Sir, I see it is in vain 
 to expect happiness from him, who has been so bad 
 an economist of his own; and that I must disclaim 
 his friendship who ceases to be a friend to himself. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Honey. How is this! she has confessed she loved 
 him, and yet she seemed to part in displeasure. 
 Can I have done anything to reproach myself with ? 
 No, I believe not: yet after all, these things should 
 not be done by a third person: I should have spared 
 her confusion. My friendship carried me a little 
 too far. 
 
 Enter CROAKER, with the letter in his hand, and 
 MRS. CROAKER. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Ha! ha! ha! And so, my dear, it 's 
 your supreme wish that I should be quite wretched 
 upon this occasion? ha! ha! 
 
 Cro. (Mimicking.) Ha! ha! ha! And so, my 
 
96 be GooNflatureb nDan 
 
 dear, it 's your supreme pleasure to give me no 
 better consolation ? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Positively, my dear; what is this in- 
 cendiary stuff and trumpery to me? our house 
 may travel through the air like the house of 
 Loretto, for aught I care, if I am to be miserable 
 in it. 
 
 Cro. Would to Heaven it were converted into 
 a house of correction for your benefit. Have we 
 not everything to alarm us? Perhaps this very 
 moment the tragedy is beginning. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Then let us reserve our distress till 
 the rising of the curtain, or give them the money 
 they want, and have done with them. 
 
 Cro. Give them my money! And pray, what 
 right have they to my money ? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. And pray, what right then have you 
 to my good-humour ? 
 
 Cro. And so your good-humour advises me to 
 part with my money? Why then, to tell your 
 good-humour a piece of my mind, I'd sooner part 
 with my wife. Here 's Mr. Honeywood, see what 
 he '11 say to it. My dear Honeywood, look at this 
 incendiary letter dropped at my door. It will 
 freeze you with terror; and yet lovey here can read 
 it can read it and laugh! 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Yes, and so will Mr. Honeywood. 
 
<5oot>*1ftature& flDan 97 
 
 Cro. If he does, I'll suffer to be hang 'd the 
 next minute in the rogue's place, that 's all. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Speak, Mr. Honeywood; is there any- 
 thing more foolish than my husband's fright upon 
 this occasion? 
 
 Honey. It would not become me to decide, 
 Madam; but, doubtless, the greatness of his terrors 
 now will but invite them to renew their villany 
 another time. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. I told you he 'd be of my opinion. 
 
 Cro. How, Sir! do you maintain that I should 
 lie down under such an injury, and show, neither 
 by my tears nor complaints, that I have something 
 of the spirit of a man in me ? 
 
 Honey. Pardon me, Sir. You ought to make 
 the loudest complaints, if you desire redress. The 
 surest way to have redress, is to be earnest in the 
 pursuit of it. 
 
 Cro. Ay, whose opinion is he of now ? 
 
 Mrs. Cro. But don't you think that laughing 
 off our fears is the best way ? 
 
 Honey. What is the best, Madam, few can say; 
 but I '11 maintain it to be a very wise way. 
 
 Cro. But we 're talking of the best. Surely 
 the best way is to face the enemy in the field, and 
 not wait till he plunders us in our very bed- 
 chamber. 
 
 VOL. II. 7 
 
98 Gbe <5oob*1Rature& flDan 
 
 Honey. Why, Sir, as to the best, that that 's 
 a very wise way too. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. But can anything be more absurd 
 than to double our distresses by our apprehensions, 
 and put it in the power of every low fellow, that 
 can scrawl ten words of wretched spelling, to 
 torment us? 
 
 Honey. Without doubt, nothing more absurd. 
 
 Cro. How! would it not be more absurd to de- 
 spise the rattle till we are bit by the snake. 
 
 Honey. Without doubt, perfectly absurd. 
 
 Cro. Then you are of my opinion. 
 
 Honey. Entirely. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. And you reject mine ? 
 
 Honey. Heav 'ns forbid, Madam! No sure, 
 no reasoning can be more just than yours. We 
 ought certainly to despise malice if we cannot op- 
 pose it, and not make the incendiary's pen as fatal 
 to our repose as the highwayman's pistol. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. O ! then you think I 'm quite right ? 
 
 Honey. Perfectly right. 
 
 Cro. A plague of plagues, we can 't be both 
 right. I ought to be sorry or I ought to be glad. 
 My hat must be on my head, or my hat must be off. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Certainly, in two opposite opinions, 
 if one be perfectly reasonable, the other can't be 
 perfectly right. 
 
(Boob^atureb flDan 99 
 
 Honey. And why may not both be right, 
 Madam? Mr. Croaker in earnestly seeking re- 
 dress, and you in waiting the event with good- 
 humour? Pray, let me see the letter again. I 
 have it. This letter requires twenty guineas to be 
 left at the bar of the Talbot Inn. If it be indeed an 
 incendiary letter, what if you and I, Sir, go there; 
 and, when the writer comes to be paid for his 
 expected booty, seize him? 
 
 Cro. My dear friend, it 's the very thing; the 
 very thing. While I walk by the door, you shall 
 plant yourself in ambush near the bar; burst out 
 upon the miscreant like a masked battery; extort a 
 confession at once, and so hang him up by surprise. 
 
 Honey. Yes, but I would not choose to exercise 
 too much severity. It is my maxim, Sir, that 
 crimes generally punish themselves. 
 
 Cro. Well, but we may upbraid him a little, I 
 suppose? (Ironically.) 
 
 Honey. Ay, but not punish him too rigidly. 
 
 Cro. Well, well, leave that to my own 
 benevolence. 
 
 Honey. Well, I do; but remember, that univer- 
 sal benevolence is the first law of nature. 
 
 [Exeunt HONEYWOOD and MRS. CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Yes; and my universal benevolence will 
 hang the dog, if he had as many necks as a hydra. 
 
ACT THE FIFTH 
 
 Scene An Inn. 
 Enter OLIVIA, JAR vis. 
 
 Olivia. Well, we have got safe to the inn, how- 
 ever. Now, if the post-chaise were ready 
 
 Jarvis. The horses are just finishing their oats; 
 and, as they are not going to be married, they 
 choose to take their own time. 
 
 Olivia. You are forever giving wrong motives 
 to my impatience. 
 
 Jarvis. Be as impatient as you will, the horses 
 must take their own time; besides, you don't 
 consider we have got no answer from our fellow- 
 traveller yet. If we hear nothing from Mr. 
 Leontine, we have only one way left us. 
 
 Olivia. What way ? 
 
 Jarvis. The way home again. 
 
 Olivia. Not so. I have made a resolution to 
 go, and nothing shall induce me to break it. 
 
 Jarvis. Ay; resolutions are well kept, when 
 they jump with inclination. However, I '11 go 
 
 100 
 
101 
 
 hasten things without. And I '11 call, too, at the 
 bar, to see if anything should be left for us there. 
 Don't be in such a plaguy hurry, Madam, and we 
 shall go the faster, I promise you. [Exit JAR vis. 
 
 Enter Landlady. 
 
 Land. What! Solomon, why don 't you move? 
 Pipes and tobacco for the Lamb there. Will no- 
 body answer? To the Dolphin: quick. The Angel 
 has been outrageous this half hour. Did your lady- 
 ship call, Madam? 
 
 Olivia. No, Madam. 
 
 Land. I find as you 're for Scotland, Madam. 
 But that 's no business of mine; married, or not 
 married, I ask no questions. To be sure we had a 
 sweet little couple set off from this two days 
 ago for the same place. The gentleman, for a 
 tailor, was, to be sure, as fine a spoken tailor as ever 
 blew froth from a full pot. And the young lady 
 so bashful, it was near half an hour before we could 
 get her to finish a pint of raspberry between us. 
 
 Olivia. But this gentleman and I are not going 
 to be married, I assure you. 
 
 Land. May be not. That 's no business of 
 mine; for certain, Scotch marriages seldom turn 
 out. There was, of my own knowledge, Miss Mac- 
 fag, that married her father's footman Alack-a- 
 
102 be (Boo^lRatureb flDan 
 
 day, she and her husband soon parted, and now 
 keep separate cellars in Hedge-lane. 1 
 
 Olivia. A very pretty picture of what lies before 
 me. [Aside. 
 
 Enter LEONTINB. 
 
 Leon. My dear Olivia, my anxiety, till you 
 were out of danger, was too great to be resisted. I 
 could not help coming to see you set out, though 
 it exposes us to discovery. 
 
 Olivia. May everything you do prove as for- 
 tunate. Indeed, Leontine, we have been most 
 cruelly disappointed. Mr. Honeywood's bill upon 
 the city has, it seems, been protested, and we have 
 been utterly at a loss how to proceed. 
 
 Leon. How! an offer of his own too. Sure, he 
 could not mean to deceive us? 
 
 Olivia. Depend upon his sincerity; he only 
 mistook the desire for the power of serving us. 
 But let us think no more of it. I believe the post- 
 chaise is ready by this. 
 
 Land. Not quite yet; and, begging your lady- 
 ship's pardon, I don't think your ladyship quite 
 ready for the post-chaise. The north road is a 
 cold place, Madam. I have a drop in the house 
 
 1 Among the Essays in vol. ii. is a capital paper on this subject, 
 entitled A Register of Scotch Marriages. 
 
<5oob*1Ratureb flDan 103 
 
 of as pretty raspberry as ever was tipt over tongue. 
 Just a thimble-full to keep the wind off your 
 stomach. To be sure, the last couple we had here, 
 they said it was a perfect nosegay. Ecod, I sent 
 them both away as good-natured Up went the 
 blinds, round went the wheels, and " Drive away, 
 post-boy," was the word. 
 
 Enter CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Well, while my friend Honeywood is upon 
 the post of danger at the bar, it must be my busi- 
 ness to have an eye about me here. I think I 
 know an incendiary 's look; for wherever the devil 
 makes a purchase, he never fails to set his mark. 
 Ha! who have we here? My son and daughter! 
 What can they be doing here? 
 
 Land. I tell you, Madam, it will do you good; 
 I think I know by this time what's good for the 
 north road. It 's a raw night, Madam. Sir 
 
 Leon. Not a drop more, good Madam. I 
 should now take it as a greater favour, if you 
 hasten the horses, for I am afraid to be seen 
 myself. 
 
 Land. That shall be done. Wha, Solomon! 
 are you all dead there ? Wha, Solomon, I say! 
 
 [Exit, bawling. 
 
 Olivia. Well, I dread lest an expedition begun 
 
104 
 
 in fear, should end in repentance. Every moment 
 we stay increases our danger, and adds to my 
 apprehensions. 
 
 Leon. There 's no danger, trust me, my dear, 
 there can be none. If Honeywood has acted with 
 honour, and kept my father, as he promised, in 
 employment till we are out of danger, nothing can 
 interrupt our journey. 
 
 Olivia. I have no doubt of Mr. Honeywood's 
 sincerity, and even his desires to serve us. My 
 fears are from your father's suspicions. A mind 
 so disposed to be alarmed without a cause, will be 
 but too ready when there 's a reason. 
 
 Leon. Why, let him, when we are out of his 
 power. But believe me, Olivia, you have no great 
 reason to dread his resentment. His repining 
 temper, as it does no manner of injury to himself, 
 so will it never do harm to others. He only frets 
 to keep himself employed, and scolds for his private 
 amusement. 
 
 Olivia. I don't know that ; but I 'm sure, on 
 some occasions it makes him look most shock- 
 ingly. 
 
 CROAKER, discovering himself. 
 
 How does he look now? How does he look 
 now? 
 
105 
 
 Olivia. Ah! 
 
 Leon. Undone! 
 
 Cro. How do I look? Sir, I am your very 
 humble servant. Madam, I am yours. What, 
 you are going off, are you? Then, first, if you 
 please, take a word or two from me with you be- 
 fore you go. Tell me first where you are going; 
 and when you have told me that, perhaps I shall 
 know as little as I did before. 
 
 Leon. If that be so, our answer might but in- 
 crease your displeasure, without adding to your 
 information. 
 
 Cro. I want no information from you, puppy: 
 and you too, good Madam, what answer have you 
 got? Eh! (A cry without, "Stop him/' 1 ) I think I 
 I heard a noise. My friend Honeywood without 
 has he seized the incendiary? Ah, no; for now I 
 hear no more on 't. 
 
 Leon. Honeywood without! Then, Sir, it was 
 Mr. Honeywood that directed you hither? 
 
 Cro. No, Sir, it was Mr. Honeywood conducted 
 me hither. 
 
 Leon. Is it possible? 
 
 Cro. Possible! Why he 's in the house now, 
 Sir; more anxious about me than my own son, Sir. 
 
 Leon. Then, Sir, he 's a villain. 
 
 Cro. How, sirrah! a villain, because he takes 
 
io6 be <5oot>*1Flatureb fIDan 
 
 most care of your father? I '11 not bear it. I tell 
 you I 11 not bear it. Honeywood is a friend to 
 the family, and I '11 have him treated as 
 such. 
 
 Leon. I shall study to repay his friendship as 
 it deserves. 
 
 Cro. Ah, rogue, if you knew how earnestly he 
 entered into my griefs, and pointed out the means 
 to detect them, you would love him as I do. (A 
 cry without, l l Stop him! " ) Fire and fury ! they have 
 seized the incendiary: they have the villain, the 
 incendiary in view! Stop him! stop an incendiary! 
 a murderer! stop him! [Exit. 
 
 Olivia. O, my terrors! What can this tumult 
 mean? 
 
 Leon. Some new mark, I suppose, of Mr. Honey- 
 wood's sincerity. But we shall have satisfaction: 
 he shall give me instant satisfaction. 
 
 Olivia. It must not be, my Leontine, if you 
 value my esteem or my happiness. Whatever 
 be our fate, let us not add guilt to our misfortunes 
 Consider that our innocence will shortly be all 
 that we have left us. You must forgive him. 
 
 Leon. Forgive him! Has he not in every in- 
 stance betrayed us ? Forced me to borrow money 
 from him, which appears a mere trick to delay 
 us; promised to keep my father engaged till we 
 
ZTbe <5oot>*Kature& fRan 107 
 
 were out of danger, and here brought him to the 
 very scene of our escape ? 
 
 Olivia. Don't be precipitate. We may yet be 
 mistaken. 
 
 Enter Postboy, dragging in JARVIS; HONBYWOOD entering 
 
 soon after. 
 
 Post. Ay, master, we have him fast enough. 
 Here is the incendiary dog. I 'm entitled to the 
 reward: I '11 take my oath I saw him ask for the 
 money at the bar, and then run for it. 
 
 Honey. Come, bring him along. Let us see 
 him. Let him learn to blush for his crimes. (Dis- 
 covering his mistake.) Death! what 's here? Jar- 
 vis, Leontine, Olivia! What can all this mean ? 
 
 Jarvis. Why, 1 11 tell you what it means: that 
 I was an old fool, and that you are my master 
 that 's all. 
 
 Honey. Confusion! 
 
 Leon. Yes, Sir, I find you have kept your word 
 with me. After such baseness, I wonder how you 
 can venture to see the man you have injured ? 
 
 Honey. My dear Leontine, by my life, my 
 honour 
 
 Leon. Peace, peace, for shame; and do not con- 
 tinue to aggravate baseness by hypocrisy. I 
 know you, Sir, I know you. 
 
io8 
 
 Honey. Why won't you hear me ? By all that 's 
 just I knew not 
 
 Leon. Hear you, Sir! to what purpose? I now 
 see through all your low arts; your ever complying 
 with every opinion; your never refusing any re- 
 quest: your friendship as common as a prostitute's 
 favours, and as fallacious; all these, Sir, have long 
 been contemptible to the world, and are now 
 perfectly so to me. 
 
 Honey. Ha! contemptible to the world! that 
 reaches me. [Aside. 
 
 Leon. All the seeming sincerity of your pro- 
 fessions, I now find, were only allurements to 
 betray; and all your seeming regret for their con- 
 sequences, only calculated to cover the cowardice 
 of your heart. Draw, villain ! 
 
 Enter CROAKER, out of breath. 
 
 Cro. Where is the villain? Where is the incen- 
 diary? (Seizing the Postboy.) Hold him fast, the 
 dog: he has the gallows in his face. Come, you dog, 
 confess; confess all, and hang yourself. 
 
 Postboy. Zounds! master, what do you throttle 
 me for? 
 
 Cro. (Beating him.) Dog, do you resist? do you 
 resist? 
 
 Postboy. Zounds, master, I 'm not he; there 's 
 
(Boob^atureb flDan 109 
 
 the man that we thought was the rogue, and turns 
 out to be one of the company. 
 
 Cro. How! 
 
 Honey. Mr. Croaker, we have all been under a 
 strange mistake here; I find there is nobody guilty; 
 it was all an error; entirely an error of our own. 
 
 Cro. And I say, Sir, that you 're in ari error; 
 for there 's guilt and double guilt; a plot, a damned 
 Jesuitical, pestilential plot, and I must have proof 
 of it. 
 
 Honey. Do but hear me. 
 
 Cro. What, you intend to bring 'em off, I sup- 
 pose ? 1 11 hear nothing. 
 
 Honey. Madam, you seem at least calm enough 
 to hear reason. 
 
 Olivia. Excuse me. 
 
 Honey. Good Jarvis, let me then explain it to 
 you. 
 
 Jarvis. What signifies explanations when the 
 thing is done? 
 
 Honey. Will nobody hear me? Was there 
 ever such a set so blinded by passion and prejudice! 
 (To the Postboy.) My good friend, I believe you '11 
 be surprised when I assure you 
 
 Postboy. Sure me nothing I 'm sure of no- 
 thing but a good beating. 
 
 Cro. Come then, you, Madam, if you ever hope 
 
1 10 Gbe <5ooMFlature& flDan 
 
 for any favour or forgiveness, tell me sincerely all 
 you know of this affair. 
 
 Olivia. Unhappily, Sir, I 'm but too much the 
 cause of your suspicions; you see before you, Sir, 
 one that with false pretences has stept into your 
 family to betray it; not your daughter 
 
 Cro. Not my daughter ! 
 
 Olivia. Not your daughter but a mean de- 
 ceiver who support me, I cannot 
 
 Honey. Help, she 's going; give her air. 
 
 Cro. Ay, ay, take the young woman to the air; 
 I would not hurt a hair of her head, whose ever 
 daughter she may be not so bad as that neither. 
 
 [Exeunt all but CROAKER. 
 
 Cro. Yes, yes, all 's out; I now see the whole 
 affair: my son is either married, or going to be so, 
 to this lady, whom he imposed upon me as his sister. 
 Ay, certainly so, and yet I don't find it afflicts me 
 so much as one might think. There 's the advan- 
 tage of fretting away our misfortunes beforehand, 
 we never feel them when they come. 
 
 Enter Miss RICHLAND and SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 Sir Wm. But how do you know, Madam, that 
 my nephew intends setting off from this place ? 
 
 Miss Rich. My maid assured me he was come 
 to this inn; and my own knowledge of his intending 
 
(BooNWaturet) fIDan 
 
 to leave the kingdom suggested the rest. But, what 
 do I see! my guardian here before us! Who, my 
 dear Sir, could have expected meeting you here? 
 to what accident do we owe this pleasure? 
 
 Cro. To a fool, I believe. 
 
 Miss Rich. But to what purpose did you come ? 
 
 Cro. To play the fool. 
 
 Miss Rich. But with whom ? 
 
 Cro. With greater fools than myself. 
 
 Miss Rich. Explain. 
 
 Cro. Why, Mr. Honeywood brought me here, 
 to do nothing now I am here; and my son is going 
 to be married to I don't know who, that is here: 
 so now you are as wise as I am. 
 
 Miss Rich. Married! to whom, Sir? 
 
 Cro. To Olivia, my daughter, as I took her to 
 be; but who the devil she is, or whose daughter she 
 is, I know no more than the man in the moon. 
 
 Sir Wm. Then, Sir, I can inform you; and, 
 though a stranger, yet you shall find me a friend 
 to your family. It will be enough at present to 
 assure you, that both in point of birth and fortune 
 the young lady is at least your son's equal. Being 
 left by her father, Sir James Woodville 
 
 Cro. Sir James Woodville! What, of the west? 
 
 Sir Wm. Being left by him, I say, to the care of 
 a mercenary wretch, whose only aim was to secure 
 
flDan 
 
 her fortune to himself, she was sent to France, un- 
 der pretence of education; and there every art was 
 tried to fix her for life in a convent, contrary to 
 her inclinations. Of this I was informed upon my 
 arrival at Paris; and, as I had been once her father's 
 friend, I did all in my power to frustrate her 
 guardian's base intentions. I had even meditated 
 to rescue her from his authority, when your son 
 stepped in with more pleasing violence, gave her 
 liberty, and you a daughter. 
 
 Cro. But I intend to have a daughter of my own 
 choosing, Sir. A young lady, Sir, whose fortune, 
 by my interest with those who have interest, will be 
 double what my son has a right to expect. Do 
 you know Mr. Lofty, Sir? 
 
 Sir Wm. Yes, Sir; and know that you are de- 
 ceived in him. But step this way, and 1 11 con- 
 vince you. 
 
 [CROAKER and SIR WILLIAM seem to confer. 
 
 Enter HONEYWOOD. 
 
 Honey. Obstinate man, still to persist in his 
 outrage! Insulted by him, despised by all, I now 
 begin to grow contemptible even to myself. How 
 have I sunk by too great an assiduity to please! 
 How have I overtaxed all my abilities, lest the 
 approbation of a single fool should escape me! 
 
(Boo^Watureb flDan 113 
 
 But all is now over; I have survived my reputation, 
 my fortune, my friendships, and nothing remains 
 henceforward for me but solitude and repentance. 
 
 Miss Rich. Is it true Mr. Honeywood, that 
 you are setting off, without taking leave of your 
 friends? The report is that you are quitting Eng- 
 land. Can it be? 
 
 Honey. Yes, Madam; and though I am so un- 
 happy as to have fallen under your displeasure, 
 yet, thank Heaven! I leave you to happiness; to 
 one who loves you, and deserves your love: to one 
 who has power to procure you affluence, and gener- 
 osity to improve your enjoyment of it. 
 
 Miss Rich. And are you sure, Sir, that the gen- 
 tleman you mean is what you describe him ? 
 
 Honey. I have the best assurances of it his 
 serving me. He does indeed deserve the highest 
 happiness, and that is in your power to confer. 
 As for me, weak and wavering as I have been, 
 obliged by all, and incapable of serving any, what 
 happiness can I find but in solitude? what hope, 
 but in being forgotten ? 
 
 Miss Rich. A thousand! to live among friends 
 that esteem you, whose happiness it will be to be 
 permitted to oblige you. 
 
 Honey. No, Madam, my resolution is fixed. 
 Inferiority among strangers is easy; but among 
 
 VOL. II. 8 
 
H4 Gbe <5oo5*Watureb flDan 
 
 those that were once equals, insupportable. Nay, 
 to show how far my resolution can go, I can now 
 speak with calmness of my former follies, my 
 vanity, my dissipation, my weakness. I will even 
 confess, that, among the number of my other pre- 
 sumptions, I had the insolence to think of loving 
 you. Yes, Madam, while I was pleading the pas- 
 sion of another, my heart was tortured with its 
 own. But it is over; it was unworthy our friend- 
 ship, and let it be forgotten. 
 
 Miss Rich. You amaze me ! 
 
 Honey. But you '11 forgive it, I know you will; 
 since the confession should not have come from 
 me even now, but to convince you of the sincerity 
 of my intention of never mentioning it more. 
 
 [Going. 
 
 Miss Rich. Stay, Sir, one moment Ha! he 
 here 
 
 Enter LOFTY. 
 
 Lofty. Is the coast clear? None but friends? 
 I have followed you here with a trifling piece of 
 intelligence; but it goes no further; things are 
 not yet ripe for discovery. I have spirits working 
 at a certain board; your affair at the Treasury 
 will be done in less than a thousand years. 
 Mum! 
 
(Boo^Waturefc flfoan us 
 
 Miss Rich. Sooner, Sir, I should hope. 
 
 Lofty. Why, yes, I believe it may, if it falls into 
 proper hands, that know where to push and where 
 to parry; that know how the land lies- eh, Honey- 
 wood? 
 
 Miss Rich. It is fallen into yours. 
 
 Lofty. Well, to keep you no longer in suspense, 
 your thing is done. It is done, I say that 's all. 
 I have just had assurances from Lord Neverout, 
 that the claim has been examined, and found ad- 
 missible. Quietus is the word, Madam. 
 
 Honey. But how? his lordship has been at New- 
 market these ten days. 
 
 Lofty. Indeed! Then Sir Gilbert Goose must 
 have been most damnably mistaken. I had it of 
 him. 
 
 Miss Rich. He! why Sir Gilbert and his family 
 have been in the country this month. 
 
 Lofty. This month! It must certainly be so 
 Sir Gilbert's letter did come to me from Newmar- 
 ket, so that he must have met his Lordship there; 
 and so it came about. I have his letter about me; 
 I '11 read it to you (Taking out a large bundle). 
 That 's from Paoli of Corsica; that from the Mar- 
 quis of Squilachi. Have you a mind to see the let- 
 ter from Count Poniatowski, now King of Poland? 
 Honest Pon (Searching). O, Sir, what are 
 
(BooMRaturefc 
 
 you here, too? 1 11 tell you what, honest friend, 
 if you have not absolutely delivered my letter to 
 Sir William Honeywood, you may return it. The 
 thing will do without him. 
 
 Sir Wm. Sir, I have delivered it; and must in- 
 form you, it was received with the most mortifying 
 contempt. 
 
 Cro. Contempt ! Mr. Lofty, what can that mean ? 
 
 Lofty. Let him go on, let him go on, I say. You 11 
 find it come to something presently. 
 
 Sir Wm. Yes, Sir; I believe you 11 be amazed, 
 if after waiting some time in the ante-chamber; 
 after being surveyed with insolent curiosity by the 
 passing servants, I was at last assured, that Sir 
 William Honeywood knew no such a person, and 
 I must certainly have been imposed upon. 
 
 Lofty. Good! let me die; very good. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Cro. Now, for my life, I can't find out half the 
 goodness of it. 
 
 Lofty. You can't. Ha! ha! 
 
 Cro. No, for the soul of me! I think it was as 
 confounded a bad answer as ever was sent from 
 one private gentleman to another. 
 
 Lofty. And so you can't find out the force of 
 the message? Why, I was in the house at that 
 very time. Ha! ha! It was I that sent that very 
 answer to my own letter. Ha! ha! 
 
Cro. Indeed! How? why? 
 
 Lofty. In one word, things between Sir William 
 and me must be behind the curtain. A party has 
 many eyes. He sides with Lord Buzzard, I side 
 with Sir Gilbert Goose. So that unriddles the 
 mystery. 
 
 Cro. And so it does, indeed; and all my sus- 
 picions are over. 
 
 Lofty. Your suspicions! What, then, you 
 have been suspecting, have you? Mr. Croaker, 
 you and I were friends; we are friends no longer. 
 Never talk to me. It 's over; I say, it 's over. 
 
 Cro. As I hope for your favour I did not mean 
 to offend. It escaped me. Don't be discomposed. 
 
 Lofty. Zounds! Sir, but I am discomposed, 
 and will be discomposed. To be treated thus! 
 Who am I? Was it for this I have been dreaded 
 both by ins and outs? Here I have been libelled 
 in the Gazetteer, and praised in the St. James's? 
 have I been chaired at Wildman's and a speaker 
 at Merchant Tailors' Hall? have I had my hand to 
 addresses, and my head in the print-shops; and 
 talk to me of suspects ? 
 
 Cro. My dear Sir, be pacified. What can you 
 have but asking pardon? 
 
 Lofty. Sir, I will not be pacified Suspects! 
 Who am I? To be used thus! Have I paid court 
 
us be (Boo^lRatureb flfcan 
 
 to men in favour to serve my friends; the Lords of 
 the Treasury, Sir William Honeywood, and the 
 rest of the gang, and talk to me of suspects? Who 
 am I, I say; who am I ? 
 
 Sir Wm. Since, you 're so pressing for an an- 
 swer, I '11 tell you who you are: A gentleman, as 
 well acquainted with politics as with men in 
 power; as well acquainted with persons of fashion 
 as with modesty; with Lords of the Treasury 
 as with truth; and with all, as you are with 
 Sir William Honeywood. I am Sir William 
 Honeywood. (Discovering his ensigns of the 
 Bath.) 
 
 Cro. Sir William Honeywood ! 
 
 Honey. Astonishment ! my uncle ! [Aside. 
 
 Lofty. So then, my confounded genius has been 
 all this time only leading me up to the garret, in 
 order to fling me out of the window. 
 
 Cro. What, Mr. Importance, and are these your 
 works? Suspect you! You, who have been 
 dreaded by the ins and outs; you, who have had 
 your hand to addresses, and your head stuck up in 
 print-shops. If you were served right, you should 
 have your head stuck up in the pillory. 
 
 Lofty. Ay, stick it where you will; for, by the 
 Lord, it cuts but a poor figure where it sticks at 
 present. 
 
(BooMRaturet) flfean 119 
 
 Sir Wm. Well, Mr. Croaker, I hope you now 
 see how incapable this gentleman is of serving you, 
 and how little Miss Richland has to expect from 
 his influence. 
 
 Cro. Ay, Sir, too well I see it ; and I can't but 
 say I have had some boding of it these ten days. 
 So, I 'm resolved, since my son has placed his affec- 
 tions on a lady of moderate fortune, to be satisfied 
 with his choice, and not run the hazard of another 
 Mr. Lofty in helping him to a better. 
 
 Sir Wm. I approve your resolution; and here 
 they come to receive a confirmation of your pardon 
 and consent. 
 
 Enter MRS. CROAKER, JARVIS, LEONTINE, and OLIVIA. 
 
 Mrs. Cro. Where 's my husband ? Come, come, 
 lovey, you must forgive them. Jarvis here has 
 been to tell me the whole affair; and I say, you 
 must forgive them. Our own was a stolen match, 
 you know, my dear; and we never had any reason 
 to repent of it. 
 
 Cro. I wish we could both say so. However, 
 this gentleman, Sir William Honeywood, has been 
 beforehand with you in obtaining their pardon. 
 So, if the two poor fools have a mind to marry, I 
 think we can tack them together without crossing 
 the Tweed for it. 
 
120 be (BooMRatureb ffoan 
 
 [Joining their hands. 
 
 Leon. How blest and unexpected ! What, what 
 can we say to such goodness? But our future 
 obedience shall be the best reply. And as for this 
 gentleman, to whom we owe 
 
 Sir Wm. Excuse me, Sir, if I interrupt your 
 thanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. 
 (Turning to HONEYWOOD.) Yes, Sir, you are sur- 
 prised to see me: and I own that a desire of correct- 
 ing your follies led me hither. I saw with indig- 
 nation, the errors of a mind that only sought 
 applause from others; that easiness of disposition 
 which, though inclined to the right, had not the 
 courage to condemn the wrong. I saw with regret 
 those splendid errors, that still took name from 
 some neighbouring duty; your charity, that was 
 but injustice; your benevolence, that was but 
 weakness; and your friendship, but credulity. I 
 saw with regret great talents and extensive 
 learning only employed to add sprightliness to 
 error, and increase your perplexities. I saw your 
 mind with a thousand natural charms; but the 
 greatness of its beauty served only to heighten 
 my pity for its prostitution. 
 
 Honey. Cease to upbraid me, Sir: I have for 
 some time but too strongly felt the justice of 
 your reproaches. But there is one way still left 
 
<5ooN1RatureJ> fIDan 121 
 
 me. Yes, Sir, I have determined this very hour 
 to quit for ever a place where I have made myself 
 the voluntary slave of all, and to seek among stran- 
 gers that fortitude which may give strength to 
 the mind, and marshal all its dissipated virtues. 
 Yet ere I depart, permit me to solicit favour for 
 this gentleman; who, notwithsatnding what has 
 happened, has laid me under the most signal 
 obligations. Mr. Lofty 
 
 Lofty. Mr. Honeywood, I 'm resolved upon a 
 reformation as well as you. I now begin to find 
 that the man who first invented the art of speaking 
 truth, was a much cunninger fellow than I thought 
 him. And to prove that I design to speak truth 
 for the future, I must now assure you, that you 
 owe your late enlargement to another; as, upon 
 my soul, I had no hand in the matter. So now, 
 if any of the company has a mind for preferment, 
 he may take my place; I 'm determined to resign. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Honey. How have I been deceived! 
 
 Sir Wm. No, Sir, you have been obliged to a 
 kinder, fairer friend, for that favour To Miss Rich- 
 land. Would she complete our joy, and make the 
 man she has honoured by her friendship happy in 
 her love, I should then forget all, and be as blest 
 as the welfare of my dearest kinsman can make me. 
 
122 Gbe (Boot^lRatureb fIDan 
 
 Miss Rich. After what is passed it would be 
 but affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I 
 will own an attachment, which I find was more 
 than friendship. And if my entreaties cannot 
 alter his resolution to quit the country, I will even 
 try if my hand has not power to detain him. 
 
 [Giving her hand. 
 
 Honey. Heavens! how can I have deserved 
 all this? How express my happiness, my grati- 
 tude? A moment like this overpays an age of 
 apprehension. 
 
 Cro. Well, now I see content in every face; 
 but Heaven send we be all better this day three 
 months! 
 
 Sir Wm. Henceforth, nephew, learn to respect 
 yourself. He who seeks only for applause from 
 without, has all his happiness in another's keeping. 
 
 Honey. Yes. Sir, I now too plainly perceive 
 my errors; my vanity, in attempting to please all 
 by fearing to offend any; my meanness, in approv- 
 ing folly lest fools should disapprove. Henceforth, 
 therefore, it shall be my study to reserve my pity 
 for real distress; my friendship for true merit; and 
 my love for her, who first taught me what it is to 
 be happy, 
 
EPILOGUE^ 
 
 Spoken by Mrs. Bulkley 
 
 AS puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure 
 To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure; 
 Thus, on the stage, our playwrights still depend, 
 For Epilogues and Prologues on some friend, 
 Who knows each art of coaxing up the town, 
 And make full many a bitter pill go down. 
 Conscious of this, our bard has gone about, 
 And teaz'd each rhyming friend to help him out. 
 An Epilogue, things can't go on without it; 
 It could not fail, would you but set about it. 
 Young man, cries one (a bard laid up in clover), 
 Alas! young man, my writing days are over; 
 Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I; 
 Your brother Doctor there, perhaps, may try. 
 What I ! dear Sir, the Doctor interposes ; 
 What, plant my thistle, Sir, among the roses! 
 
 1 The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at 
 Oxford, deferred writing one himself till the very last hour. What 
 is here offered owes all its success to the graceful manner of the 
 Actress who spoke it GOLDSMITH. 
 
 123 
 
124 Epilogue 
 
 No, no, I've other contests to maintain; 
 To-night I head our troops at Warwick-lane. 1 
 Go ask your manager Who, me! Your pardon; 
 Those things are not our forte at Covent Garden. 
 Our author's friends, thus plac'd at happy distance, 
 Give him good words indeed, but no assistance. 
 As some unhappy wight at some new play, 
 At the pit door stands elbowing away; 
 While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug, 
 He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug; 
 His simpering friends, with pleasure in their eyes, 
 Sink as he sinks, and as he rises rise : 
 He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace; 
 But not a soul will budge to give him place. 
 Since then, unhelp'd, our bard must now conform 
 'To 'bide the pelting of this pitiless storm/ 
 Blame where you must, be candid where you can, 
 And be each critic the Good-natured Man. 
 
 Where the College of Physicians then stood. 
 

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 1930 
 
 LD 21A-50m-3,'62 
 (C7097slO)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY