UC-NRLF B 3 32R MSB fa GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. TIRST ACTED AT THK Mai/ 26th 1 804. WRITTEN BY THOMAS D I B D I N, AUTHOR O? The Jew and the Doctor; Birth-Dan; Will for the Deed; Cabinet; English Fleet; Famili/ Quarrels; II Bondocani ; School for Prejudice; Five Thousand a Year; St, Daiid's Day; Naval Pillar; Mouth of the Nile; Horse and the JVidu-x ; Valentine and Orson, SfC, 6,c. &:c. THE THIRD EDITION. LONDON: Printed by Luke Hcnfardf rOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. F I X S B tr R Y-S Q tr A R E, 1804, Luke Hanfard, Printer, Great Tiirnfttle, Liucoln*8-Inn t'lcUt, ADVERTISEMENT. However ample the Author's prior obliga- tions to a moil liberally indulgent Public, the reception given to this present attempt has infi- nitely added to the grateful sense he entertains of them. In adventurino; on a new scene of action, he is proud to have experienced fresh proofs of that generous consideration which, on the part of the x'Vudience, has ever been extended to his former efforts; and when the Acting JManager and all the Performers have also done their utmost in support of the Author, it v\-ould be as ungrateful to omit as it would be improper to particularize the force and effect of their several exertions. It is by no means the least gratification, resulting from this occasion, that it has been the means of introducing him to Mr. Colman ; a Gentleman ^\]jose open, friendly, and equal 3 conduct 573 ADVERTISEMENT. conduct towards an humble follo>ver of the Art in which John Bull's favourite Author so eminently excels, merits the most pointed and unequivocal acknowledgment. *^* By referring to the Novel of " The Reprobate," the Reader will perceive how far this Comedy is indebted for its outline. PROLOGUE, Written by the Author, of the Comedy. Spoken by jNIr. J. Palmer. ^'Vhen Spring to Summer ripening cheers the clay. And bids the ve ^^etable world be gay ; When London windows every where disclose The fragrant briar, and the blushing rose; AVhile the warm gale their balmy breath receives. We venture to put forth our annual leaves. A Nurs'ry this, where flowers of various hue Depend for nurture, growth, and life, on you ; You, who the opening buds of efforts spare, And ripen merit by your fost'ring care ; What'er may flourifli here, 'tis your's alone To claim the geii'rous harvest, all your own. In hopes removal may not caufe a bhght, A trembiing^ scion we transplant to night From Covcnt Garden, on that spot firft plac'd. And by the sunshine of your favour grac'd ; If from its stem no evergreens appear. Yet has it blossom'd more than once a year; Nor will it suffer for the change of air. Your liberality is — every where. Rear'd by the genial warmth your plaudits give, Still by their aid the Poet hopes to live. Then if luxuriant shoots he chance to bear. Or barren spots offend you here and there. Let not, untimely nipt by critic frost. For some poor branches, all the tree be lost : As skilful gard'ners, while there's hope of life, Befi re the axe, apply the pruning knife. This wTre superfluous, did not custom ask The ProloGiue ere we venture on our task. Proceed we then to trial — that permitted. With justice nere we fall, or stand acquitted. DRAMATIS PERSON.^. Loi?D Rigid Mr. ARCHER. Majou Cokslet Mr. R. PALMER. Mr. Balance INlr. CHAPMAN. Edmond Rigid Mr. ELLISTON. Charles Balance Mr. J. PALMER. Sir Harry Pointer Mr. DE CAMP. Triangle Mr. MATHEWS. William Mr. TAYLOR. Gregory Mr. GROVE. Dicky Mafter TOKELY. Lord Rigid's Servant... Mr. ABBOTT. Lady Rigid ". . Mrs. T. WOODFALL. Mrs. Balance Mrs. WARD. SuzETTE Miss GRIMANL Sophia Pointer Miss WOODFALU Nancy Mrs. GIBBS. Deborah. Mrs. KENDALL. Scene A VILLAGE, GUILTY on NOT GUILTY, ACT I. SCENE I. A hall in the House of Air. Balance. Enter William and Nancy. JNancy. Nay, but ^Villiam, do let ine go in, I'm in such a huny. ¥/iLLM, I am glad of it. You always look pretty wlien you're in a hurry. Nancy. Then vou think I'd better not 2:0 m ? Wi LLM. No, not yet : — he's busy at his books, ^Irs. Nancy. I beg pardon, because I mean no offence; but I'm never certain whether I be right in calling you ]\Irs. or JMi&s Nancy. Nancy. And where's the difference? WiLLM. Why, ]Miss Nancy seems to signify as if it was — Nancy. Too good for a servant? B WlLL_M 2 GUILTY OR XOT GUILTY: "WiLLM. No, no; I am but a sort of a ser- vant myself, and I never tliought any thing too good for me, if 1 could get ithoneftly and fairly, and so following. But, as I w as saying, if I call you J/;'.«f. it looks as if it Avauted some other name besides Nancy to make it riiiht and proper. Naxcy. La! iMr. "William, I don't want another name. V/iLLM. Vi you did Lve one heartily at your service ;^ — and if sr) be you should at any time take a fancy to be Mrs. ^\'ill Wallflower, and so following, why, you'll find it not a bad name, and very mucbi at your service. Nancy. I'm sure ]Mr. William I woudn't rob YOU of vour o'ood name for all tlie world— t]jou2:h it's not. the frft kind offer you have made me, and I'm very much obliged to you. Wi:.l:m. Why, as to that, \ou see, when I offer au^lit to anv booN' it's either because I like 'em, or because I can spare it. And if their accepting" \\]i;it little I'm al)le to give is a plea- .sure to mc, \\\v--. I consider that / be the per- son Lo say tiiank}X* for tlie obligation. N A -^ c v . You a le \' e i-y kind;- but if y o 1 1 knew bov/ I gut m) place in the family, perhaps you • ■ Wiri,i\r. As for how you got your place it's nought to me. — You'xe behaved well In it, and a good seivant \\\\\ ncAcr "make a bad mistress. J got A COMEDY. 3 I got my place by jumpiDg, and I don't care wlio knows it. X A X c Y . By i ampin g ! ! WiLLM. Yes; and witliout jumping over the head of any one that had a better light to it. Did yon never hear the itory ? Nancy. No, indeed, ?dr. \ViHiam. AA'i LLi\i. Then you'd better get somebody else to teU it vou ; for wlien a nmn's oration is all about himself, he looks like a grea.t / at the be- ginning of a chapter, that's spoifd by ugly flourishes. Nancy. Oh, ifyou get to your ugly flourishes I'm sure 1 shall never hear the story. 1 thought vou was never to refuse me any thino;. AVill:m. Well, tlien since you desire it, you must know that when young Mr. Charles, the son of our m^aster, Mr. Balance, and I werd boys, about eleven years ago, Ave v/ere, at that time, exactly the same age, and, vhat is veiy remarkable, we continued so to this dav. Nancy. That is very odd indeed! WiLLM. Whv, ves; for thou o-h vouns; master cou'd beat me at learning, and read more of the Latin Accidents, and so following, }ct, some- hov\^, he could never beat me at any thing else, concerning which, one day, we had a quarrel. Nancy. And did you quarrel with such a ^ood-natured s^entleman? WiLLM. That's as he tells the ftory : but I B 2 say 4 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: sxy ke qiianelled with me, and talk'd about knocking my teeth down my throat. No\vv seehig I was a havd-workins: lad, and he onlv a gentleman, I didn't think he ftood any chance wi' me, and I made bold to tell him so. Naxc V. I hope you didn't light ? WiLLM. V/hy, without you had had a genteel education, and learnt boxino-, as he did, vou'd never guess what poftures and capers he made at me, to shew tlie different ways lie meant to thrash me ; and havino; but one way of mv own, I began to think if I didn't use that I should get the worst on't, so, as he was considering how to hit me, I hit Jtim, without considering at alL Nax c r. How could you be so cruel, William ? WiLLM. r don't knosr. I assure you I hate the thoughts on't to this day, for he was the last lad in the world I'd see knocked dow^n, except ruyself, — and that shall never happen as long as I can stand upon t\vo legs. Naxc Y. But vou made friends, I hone ? WiLLM. Not then : he \ventaway sulky, and J began to think he wasn't pleas'd, and the next time we met he said, tliough I might beat him at fighting, I coudn't beat him at jumping, and that put me up ; for he jump'd off a high bridge light into t*riv<-r, — and ecod he jump'd so far I could see nought on him. ; Nax€y. You frighten me! Wl LLM. A COMEDY. d WiLLM. So lie did 7ne ; but as I was chal- lenged, I thought rd try to make a better jump on't than he did ; so I not only went after him, but brought him back for company — and they sent for the Humane Society, Heaven bless 'em, I never shall forget when Charles open VI Ids eyes, and his father and mother hu2:a''d me, and said I should live with 'cm as long as they lived, as if I had done auglit that vras wonder- ful, v/hen, Fm sure, if every body had the lights on% poor Charles had jump'd as far again as I did. Naxcy. Dear, good ^VilUam, how I love your spirit! TriLLM. Vrhv, do ^ ou ? dien let's make an end of the matter at once. \Bdl rings.'] Tliere, this comes of telling long stories. Xovv- mafter's- bell rinses, and if it hadn't been for that plao-uv iumpino- hiftorv about boy's tricks, I cou'd ha' said somewhat to recommend myself by this- time. Xaxcy. You have lost no time, believe me,. Vv'illiam; but tell vour mafter that Major Cors-' let has been walking up and down, and looking at his windows this half hour. WiLLM. Dm o-lad on*t — they've had a lono- bit of a tiffi I reckon. How the devil can peo-^ pie quarrel that like one another ? Nancy. Vvl:y, Lord, William, you and I quarrel very often ; but the Major's a good man. WiLLM. 6 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: WiLLM. And so is old master, Mr. Balance; for though he were bred a merchant, and liave only made a gentleman of his son, yet he keeps his accounts, and scolds his servants, and takes care of his tenants, and [Btll rings] rings his bell as if he were a Lord. — But what did you want to go in about ? Nancy. Only to tell him about the Major ; but voQ can do that, while I see if the old jren- tleman's o-one yet. WiLLM. So I can — I'll tell him the ^Lijor I3 - — {^B ell rings.'] Coming directly, Sir. ^ Edit. Naxcy. That William is a kind, good na- tured, sensible young man. — I've a great mind to have him — he's head man over every body here, and yet hasn't a bit of pride belonging to him; perhaps if he married me, that would alter the case. Lud ! here comes Mr. Triangle, our A'illage schoolmaster and library keeper — his talk maybe more improving, but isn't half so pleasant as William's. Enter Triangle. Till AN. Ah 1 what, Nancy, how are the worthy family to-day ? Any news ? Has your Ladv done with the last novel? I saw the Major just now at the door; but as soon as he saw me, he described the scL^-ment of a circle round A COMEDY. 7 round an angle of the building, and in one mo- ment was as tar out of sig-bt as tbe longitude. Nancy. I know nothing of foreign parts. — But is tbe ]\Iajorgone? I remember when be bardly ever left this bouse. Triax. Your memory v.as always excellent; when tbe "q ire's Lady put you to me for instruct on, you get on rapidly, and were tbe most forward oiij in the whole school. Na X c y. IJorzvard ? For shame of yourself ! Triax. To your credit be it spoken; and tberefore out of pure friendship I come, firft to see if the family wa t any thins; from mv libiary; and then, to warn you and all tbe females not to walk near the hermitage. — Tbe reprobate is returned, tbe monster is come back, and bis very touch is contaminatiou. Nancy. Have you been near him, Sir ? TiiiAX. ^le ! no ! lie excites more terror than any modern novel in my catalogue. — His liypocrisy beats Blijil — bis yillany is beyond Fathow, and be is tbe sum total of all manner of wickedness. Naxcy. V/ell, be never did me any barm, but ril not go near him ; Til take yonr advice, because Fm sure you're a much better judge of wickedness than I am. [E.rit. TuiAX. A nice girl that! Tbe Squire paid me V, ell for her schooling, and 1 made her un- derstand tbe multiplication table better than any lass in tbe parish. e GU.ILTY or NOT GUILTY: Re-enter V/iiliam. Will:>i. Ah, Mr. Triangle ! — I humbJy wish vpu*d step in to master a bit; he seems low- spirited, and not so merry Jike as he used to be. He's got that plaguy journal, as he calls it, on the table again ; and setting down dismal things that happened long ago, makes but a gloomy sort 0^ -d past time I reckon. T R I A X. Vou reckon !. — lias lie dined ? V/iLLM. Yes, Sir; and there be a tiff of punch on table; but he takes no notice at it, thoLiirh I made it mvself for him. Trian. That's wrong : for when the cloth is subtracted, a bowl of punch is too good an additioji to be neglected; and perhaps 1 may not be too lale to come in for a miagnum bonum. [E.vit. YriLLZii. Nay, t'boncs be all gone as well as t*mc:iL. That's a merry odd kind of a body ; but this is his ciphering day, ,and his tongue runs like a slate' pencil. To-m.orrow the boys learn to read Classics, as he calls 'em ; and then lic'll talk o' nothino- but Ci^sar's Ccnnncndaries, and Sampson's /Igonies, and so following. I was his scholar mvself once; hut I had too good a head-piece to 1ft in nmcli learning — for to me his ^i/gebra was all Greek ; and his Latin X'ls quite proglumatical, as he calls it. [EA'it. A COMEDY. 9 SCENE II. — A D'niing parlour. Mr. Palance discovered, look'uiALANCL. As if the memory of malignant censure were not, already, so tenacious as fre- quently to be the means of barring the return of })enitcncc lo virtue ! Triax. 1, some years back, made a similar remark to him, in consequence of Mhich he de- clined inserting verbal descriptions, and fince contented himself by drawing with, his pen, againft cvejy suspicious name, a small cobweb, 8 Mhich, A COMEDY. ]) wliich, in case the defection amounted to proof pofitive, was generally embelliihed with a large ^jpider in the middle of it. Balance. And does he dare continue — ? Tkian. O dear, no — he lias left it off ever fmce his own daughter eloped with the Excise* man. However, as the girl is now marrierl, and the man lias property, he laughs it off, and says the spider is turned into a mere money-spinner. Ente?^ ]Mrs. Balance. Madam, your very obedient — [zvlth a pro- found bow.^^ Mrs. Balance. Well, husband, we're never to be at ease ; the neighbourhood is to be dis- graced again with tlie presence of that scanda- lous young man who bought the Hermitage. Triax. O dear, true — I had quite forgot — • young squire Rigid, has come home as well as the major; but shuts himself up closer than, ever. Balance. His comino' is unlucky. I have always suspected m,y son, Charles, had a han- kering after an acquaintance with that unfortu- nate young man ; and though 1 deteft prejudice, yet, what I have heard of him makes me trem- ble for the event of such a connection, Mrs. Balance. Then exert vour authority, and prevent it, Charles has more than once hinted a word or two in defence of the hardened c 2 v/retch; 12 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: wrctcli; and even says he has been known to perform charitable actions. Trian. Why, / really have heard, that in div'ifion of money, he is sometimes very liberal, not that I credit it; for I can't say that /canvt say that / ever had any demonstrative proof of it. BAr.AyCr. He maj' endeavour to palliat° past guilt by ads of charity, nor can betake a better method. Practical repentance makes best amends to injured society. ]\Irs. Balance. But tlie man who has as- sailed the virtue of his ?vIother-in-law, and attempted his father's life — Tria V. ]\Iuft be too baa even for a place in a spider's web. But your son is coming, and my pupils by this time demand my presence: meanwhile I assure you there isn't a wnrd in the dictionary, a book in mv librarv, or anv power in numbers, to express a tenth part of the grateful respect you derive from Titus Triangle. {Exit. ■ Balance. A pert, coxcomical blockhead; but I believe there's no harm in him Mrs. Balance. In Iiifnl he's a very seui^ible man — he keeps a school, a news-room, and a circulating library, — teaches the whole parish, and tells all the children that we are the most respectable people in it. I shouldn't get a bob curtsev from one end of the villas^e to the other, if A COMEDY. is if it v/asn'tfor him. The world's grown so bad, Mr. Balance, that if we hadn't a civil school- master to polish the 7^ising generation, I don't know what wou'd become of us. Balance. And if the schoolmaster's talents center in nothino; but teachin^>: tlie risiucr o-e- neration to ^uik at your approach, I don't know what will become of us as it is. JMrs. Balance. Here comes our son. E}iter Charles. Charles. Sir, I have pleasant intelligence for you. I hate seen and even conversed with the ]\Iajor. B A L A N c E . An d h e li as f o uu d h i s d au gh t e r ? Charles. No, Sir; but he nou'seemrj anxi- ous to recover his lost friend — he wishes to see YOU, and as he is a man of no ceremony, he don't know, he says, vvhich way to set about it. Balance. Then set the street door wide open, and if he can't find the way then, it will be more his own fault than ever it was. Mrs. Balance. So it will, dear, so it will. — ITaith, if he offers to come and make friends here, we'll l)e as leadv as he is I warrant. B A L A N c E . S o \\ e \r i II , W i f e — O rd e r the M a j o r s arm chair to be put close to mine — his favourite cup, and a long pipe to be put on the table; and, as he adores flowers, let some be put in the window; and then, if you don't do him a pleasure, 14 GUILTY on NOT GUILTY: pleasure, voull at least do your dutv in at- tempting it. Mrs. Da LANCE, (coax'uigly) And sha'n 't I do you a ])leasiire at the same time? Balance. Your only asking the question is a pleasure. Mrs. Balance. All! you're a kind old soul, that's ^vhat you are. [Exit. Balance. That's a <}:ood wench, hid 'cm hasten hefore he comes. AVell, Charles, your friend is at the hermitage, I hear. C n A R L Es. My J r'lend, Sir! Balance. Weil, your acfjuai?ifa)?ce then. Charles. Do you not consider him a scan- dalous character? Balance. What all tl>e world says must he true. Chakles. But if there should he an ex- ception to siirli a rule ! Balance. Then I wish it may he hiui, with all my heart; hut a man who, besides charges of a frill n.ore serious nature, has been expelled the uuiver.sity, turned out of the arm.y with dis- grace, and associated with gamesters, must find some diiiiculty in exonerating himself. Charles. Pern"! it me to say, Sir B.A lance. Not a word. Your age and edu- cation entitle vou to iudi?-e a little for yourself — Give me your honour never to abuse your father's coniidencc, and on your omu head be the punishment of parting with your integrity. Chakles* A COMEDY. 15 Charlks. On that condition I assure yon, Sir, that \^'hatever errors may spring from njv own inexperience, you shall never liiive to blush for those of my companions — tlie moment I discover they are unu^orthy the son of so kind and generous a father. [^Eiit, During the above Scene the arm chair, floicerSy pipes, c^T. are placed asjor the Major. Balaxcp:. Tm willing to believe the bov, and to think myself happy in a goad son; but mortals are apt to be mistaken. I thought I had a good vrife for him in the Major's daughter — I thought the Major was my good friend ; and in a very few days all those thouirhts ended in disappointment. Yet, perhaps, I wrong the Major — I may have been rash, and forgot that the attlictions of a father had no room for the inferior considerations of friendship. The things, I see, are all as I ordered — Uits doaui] — Heigho ! I remember when everv day he used to pop his head in at that door, and say — ^Iajou. {peeping in at the door] How are you old Balance? Iley, my boy, how are you? I hav'n't seen ycu but once since the last time I knew how to be happy. Balance. Sit down! sit down! You seel expected yon. An old soldier sliou'dn't be cast dov. n for triiles — so you shou'd take it easy, and think no more of it, as I Ao, ■ \halj' crijing — sitis dozen to ziiitc.] Ma J Oil. W GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Major, [also affected] So I do, you old fool. I Vv as only thinking that when I quitted this aj^artnient, I — what are you at there, eh ? Balanck. Writing the first pleasant line^ in my journal since we quarrelfcl — That differ- ence made a grand deficiency in the credit ac- count of liappineSs, and this ejitry is tlie end on't. Major. Let's see — Let's see — [zcipes his ei/es] hang the spectacles — my old nose is so slippery they won't keep their place — [reac/s] *' June the eighteenth, reconciled to my friend, !\Iajor Corslet, towards ^\hom I had acted rather too harshly.'" — No you haven't — No you haven't — What's the month ? June — by this wet weather, [zciping his eyes'] and t\\t fools you and I make of ourselves, one would think it was April. Balance. No matter — we'll never blush at cherishing the flower of friendship, because it happened to be watered by the dew of sens^i- bility. Here, take tliis pipe — there has been no smoking since you were here. AIajor. I take it as the calumet of peace. I've been M'hcre Indians used this ceremony, and their sincerity has shamed us Chriftians. Come, give me thy hand — it was I who acted wrong, and therefore I think v.e had better say 110 more about it. [Lights his pipe.] Balanck. As you Mill. In tins journal I have entered .so many errors cf my own, and found A COMEDY. 17 found so few excuses to placs per contra, that I shou'd be a bankrupt in common honesty, \^-ere I not to make liberal allowance for the failure of a friend. Major. I should like to see now what you said of me, ^vhen I rashly tax'd you with beino- accessary to the misfortune of my poor daugliter. Balance. What cow'i/I say ? Your daughter herself rendered any insertion of mine, with respect to you, unnecessary. — You know her writing^, [presents the book.] Major. AVhv \ takes the hooF ves, I — I — \o:ives it bacF I v/ish you'd read it for me. Balance. Prior to this, I had unkindly written — but I did not mean her to see it, that my mistaken opinion of her had almost deter- mined me here to close my journal. Major. And well it might — ungrateful, un- kind Suzette ! — What could she say ? Balance. Why hear, only hear what she says \reads.] ^^\lasl why shou'd the errors '' of one poor wretch close the journal of athou- .*• sand acts of beneyolence? Eeiieye me, v.or- ** thy friend ! I am less criminal than unfortu- *' nate — resume your pen — wTite under my name '• that formveness I dare not ask.— ^lay my *' father find his former amusement among his '' fayourite flowers, and henceforth only give '' the unfortunate name of Suzette to th^se he 18 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: " may find blasted by lightning, or broken by '* a tempest V Major. Ay, ay, I was fond of flowers once, to be sure, but — Balance. But what, my dear friend? Major. You know what Shakspeare says— '^ They all withered when my Suzy died." Balance. Died! Major. Yes. — Dead to honour, she is dead to me. 'Tis a painful retrospect; but as it must be once gone over between us, better now, and done with. You wish to be informed of her destiny. — What I know. Til tell you. Balance. Come, first we'll drink one glass to old regards, when you and I were in India, vou a soldier, and I a merchant. ^Iajor. The child was then unborn could interrupt our friendship. Well, we came to England. Your journal was your hobby ; mme my flowers. My wife died, yours became, as it were, the mother of ray girl — she was to have been the wife of your son — and one day, wheu I had bought her a most beautiful Yirginian honeysuckle, it perished in bringing home — an emblem of what I was to meet with in my daughter. Balance. I know all that: her indiscretion soon betrayed itself. — I interceded — you were violent — We parted — the girl disappeared — and a year has passed since the village has even forgone A COMEDY. 19 forgone the pleasure of malignant pity to regret her absence. Major. I asked her to name the villain who had seduced her, and, in the same moment, swore most bitterly to sacrifice him to my in- jured honour — and, do you know, the girl re- fused to tell me who he was. Balance. I should have o;uessed so. Major. I gave her a sum of n:oney; made her vow, and that most sacredly, not to write to any one ; made her change her name ; took her parcel on my shoulder; accompanied her by night to where a stage coach cross'd the path ; saw her safe into it, and then stood supported by the stick, on which her bundle lately hung, hke the statue of Anger leaning on Despair. Balance, I don't wonder at it. What coach ? Major. I cannot tell — the nig-ht was dark — I stood till morning beam'd upon my head, and followed with my eye the coach-wheel track till it was lost in others — then returned homeward — you remember how— yet, had I ten daughters, thus they all sho'u'd go, even if I sunk beneath the contlict; and that, I fear, will quickly be the case. Balance. And yet you M'ent, but now, m search of her ! Major. Twas a false report. Balance, Then is her crime atoned— and here I write—'* May the blessing of Heaven at- D 2 tend 20 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: tend and console a dear unhappy girl, abandoned by her father !" IMajor. Abandoned, Sir! ^^'hat right have vou — Balaxce. She was the daughter of my friend that Tvas — you were too hasty — I told vou so before. Major. Hark ye, Sir! — when I came here, I look"d for consolation, not reproach — But when again I enter these abominable doors you shall not, with impunity, insult a man of honour — Yes, Sir, of honour — nor shall you arrogantly judge of what amends that honour may require, v/hen sullied by the shameless and unfeeling conduct of a once-beloved daughter. [inishes out. Balance. He's gone again! — let him go — so much the better — I'll seek the wanderer my- self; and if the consolation of a friend — she's not my daughter, to be sure, as he says — her father is the best judge — but fathers shou'd be forgiving — for my part, I was always too in- dulgent to my children, and I love the hussy so, that if my son, Charles, had disappointed her, as .she has him, I'd have knockVl the ras- cal's braiujj out long ago. [Edit. E?id of Act the First. A COMEDY. 21 ACT IL SCENE I. — Inside of Triangle's house, xiery neatly fitted up in the modern cottage style^^ a door in the centre of the Scene, mid one on each side; over the centre, the words ^^Circulat- ing Library,'' in large letters ; on 07ie side, the ^' Reading Room;''' on the opposite, ''Academy;''' the middle door is sufficiently open to shew a small hook shop communicating with the vil- lage street. Enter TRiAiHGLEfrom the Library, Tkiangle. feo, so — in times like these it requires every man of business to be as watchful as Cerberus, in order to obtain a decent livelihood — and, egad, if I hadn't, like Cerberus, a triple head, I shou'd never have managed to become, at once, the superintendant of three literary departments, [looking round] "Academy," "Library," and " Reading Room," — by which means I draivthe whole village to my interest; the women read my novels; the men, my newspapers; and the children come to school. To be sure, the news- room £^ GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: room is a little too close to the Academy, for my customers can't read for the chattering of the boys, and the scholars can't study for the quar- rels of the newspaper politicians, who, while they damn the Times^ and upset the Globe^ are all ready to fight for the honour of the British Press, Enter Dicky. Well Dicky, have you carried out the books ? Dicky. Yes, Sir; here is the list of what's delivered, and what is wanting. Trian. Oh, let's see [reads'] ''Counsellor Crab wants Liberal Opinions'' — I'm sorry for that, for it's not at home. '' The Tailor's wife has had Alysterious Warnings, and the Apothecary's journeyman. Pills to purge Melancholy.'' Now you must take Tales of Terror to the widow Tremor — More Ghosts to the Sexton's daughter, the Curse of Sentiment to the Butcher, Melting Moments to the tallow chandler, and Old Nick to tlie attorney. Dicky. Yes, Sir; he, he, he! Til take the Attorney to Old Nick. Tkian. No, no, there'll be no necessity for tliat. Get along, and do as I bid you. [E.vit Dicky. No business stirring to-day — library rather flat — no [)0st fiom London to bring the papers, and the A COMEDY. £3 the boys have half a holiday. Bless me ! here's a trump card — a fine high phieton, and four by honours — the gentleman alights, too — this way, Sir — Library or reading room — newspapers, or novels, or would you please to rest here in the hall, Sir ? Bows in Sir Harry Pointer, who flings himself in an arm chair. Sir Harry. Any where to recover breath. I drove the last sixteen miles to a nicety, rather within time by your clocks — saw this was a sort of a house where one might learn the nevrs, so stept in for a moment. You're rather snug here, my man. Trian. Very, Sir — Seminary, Library, and Oratory, conducted upon the best principles of desk, rostrum and catalogue, and excellently govern'd by Ferula, Hammer, and Terms of Sub- scription. Sir Harry. You're an odd fellow, for you seem to do every thing by the Rule of Three. Triax. My practice exactly, Sir. — Built the whole of this mansion upon the plan of direct proportion ; for, says I — if the reading room give me half as much as the book shop, what will the school room do ? Sir Harry. Kow the devil shou'd I know? Triax. Pardon me~I mean, what will the academv produce? Sir 24 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Sir Harry. Plenty of blockheads, no doubt while you are schoolmaster. Trian. Ha, ha! facetious in the extreme. I wish we had the honour of your company, some evening, in the debating club. Su' Harry. Perhaps you may. I've some thoughts of getting settled in this part of the world. Trian. That's lucky — If you visit our club, a man of your wit would be knocked down for a speech every five minutes. Sir Harry. That's one wav of o:ettin2: settled, however. — What sort of folks are your neigh- bours? Trian. The most pleasant people in the world, and all characters in their way. Sir Harry. There's a pretty hunting box just by, they call the Hermitage, I suppose you know who lives there? Triax. Is the oentleman a friend of vours. Sir ? Sir Harry. That's no answer to my ques- tion. I can't say whether he is a friend or no ; but I believe his father, lord Rigid, has some wish of marrying him to.a sister of mine. What sort of a character does he bear in these parts ? Trian. \aside\ Oho ! mus'n't spoil a match — the lady may subscribe. — AVhy, sir, he is rather an odd — good sort of a — peaceable, quiet kind of a young gentleman enougli. 9 Sif A COMEDY. ^5 iSir Harry. Peaceable? Trta:n. Very, Sir: he left the army from an objection to fighting. Sir Harry. The devil he did I is he a coward then? Triax. O no, I can't think that; for every body else is afraid of his father, lord Rigid— now, I'm told, the young gehlleman don't care two-pence for him, and never did any thing hs Avas bid in his life. Sir Harry. A mio-hty dutiftd kind of a son. He is a scholar I am told; Triax. He must be a very great one; for they cou'dn't understand him at all at the uni- versity, so they desired him to go home again — then he's the most astonishing card player in the Avhole county. Sir Harry. Indeed ! have you any proof of that? Triax. By report only, Sir: for nobody here ^vill venture to play with him. Sir Harry. [apa?^t] It's rather lucky Sophy doesn't hear all this. Whose are the two neat houses on the right and left ? Triax. Thev belono* tb a merchant, and a major. Sir. The merchant is a rich man, tho' he lives plainly: the major is a bluff old soldier, ra- ther poor, and extremely proud — he has a daugli- ter, who — bless my soul ! why there's a ladv in E - 'thtr C6 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: the phaeton all this wliile ! won't she do me the honour to alight ? Sir Harry. Oh, it's only ray sister — the horses liave got their wind hy this time, and now I am (yi^\ When I come this \\ay again. I shall, per- haps, buy one of your catalogues, and — [a loud ,^cream heard] death and fury ! the horses are off full gallop ! my sister, yes, my sister, and my hest set of g'reys, v/iil undoubtedly be ruined. Stop the carriage ! [Rinis out TiiiAX. [Looking out'] Dear me, dear me! v.hatan accident', and nobody offers to lend the least assistance — there they go — and there goes Wdliam — ^and there goes squire Charles, gallop- inay so. SoFHiA. Shall I attend your ladyship? But we forget my preserver. Sir Harry. Odsheart ! dont let's do that — Your lordship must ask him to dinner. Lord Rigid. I beg pardon ; but I have made a rule to ask no visitors who hav n't first left their cards at Rigid House, or to whom I have not been honour'd with a formal introduction. Charles. And I have made it a rule never to intrude, nor even to suffer the most attractive motive [looking at Sophia] to carry me into *anv si)hei-e, where my independence, as the son of A COMEDY. 35 of a British Merchant woud be degraded by the want of a cordial reception. Lord Rigid. You mistake me, Sir ! it is not mv plan to offend any one. You have acted noblv bv rav Ward; — in return, if there is any thing you would ask, which my influence can effect, either in favour of yourself or friends, vou or they shall readilv command it. Till AX. [apart to Chai^les] Ask him to sub- scribe to my library. Charles. Shou'd circumstances render a re- quest from me either proper or necessary, I shall certainly avail myself of your Lordship's po- liteness. Lord Rigid. And I shall be punctual in the observance of my word. Come, Ladies — good morning, Sir. Charlhs. [^0 Sophia, as thty go out] Miss Sophia ! Sophia, [earnestly] I hope we shall meet again. [Ejc. Lord and Lady Rigid, a7id Sophia.] Sir Harry, [to Charles.] Give us your hand, heartily — you and I must be better acquainted, and if old Res-ulus won't ask you to dine with him, come, and dine with me at the King's Arms. — The place must be agreeable, for my horses are there — and I shall neither drive them F 2 home, 35 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: home, nor give away my sister till I like, to please the first lord in the land. Charles. For an hour or two I am engaged, Sir; but name your time, and 1 accept your in- vitation. Sir Harry. Do you ? — that's hearty ! We must dine early, because I've some way to go — Say four for half past, and I'll be with you at five to a certainty. \F.xit. Trian. That's some new fashionable wav of counting, I suppose — don't you think so, Sir? Charles. Think ! I think I never saw- such a delightful girl in my life ? Triax. Nor I — I wish she had put dow^n her name — its such a pretty one. Sophia! She's a namesake of Sophia Western — What a happy man he must be ! Charles. Happy, indeed! but I fear in- sensible. Trian. No doubt of that — he's been on the shelf in my shop these two months. Charles. He ! Who ? Trian. Tom Jones. Charles Damn Tom Jones ! — it shall be so ' — ril seek my friend Edmond instantly — and if it interferes not with the happiness of a friend, and ^Jic consents, not all the rules nor all the lligids in creation shall keep me from Sophia. [Exri. Tin AN. A C O -M E D Y. 37 Trian. I believe this is the first day of my introduction to very fashionable acquaintance. — And this is the first time I've had my house quite full of company, who took no more notice of the master of it, than if he was a post, and left him not one haltpenny the better for their gracious condescension. [E.vit. SCENE II.— J p^Woz^r «/r Major Corslet's, at the back a bow ztindow open to the ground^ look- in g into a fio a er garden^wliere several stands of ruin'' d flower pots are seen, and others in the recess of the window. Suzette enters from the garden, cautiously look- ing round, SuzETTE. Not here ! O heavens! with what terror do I steal throuo-h apartments where oft I have bounded with delight to meet a much-lov- ed father — Spirit of parental justice, if the un- fortunate Suzette be permitted a hearing, haply she may appease thy angry dictates. A vvhole year has passed since. Hark ! 'tis his well-known footstep ! I cannot summion courage yet to meet him — [retiring] I will pursue my first intention, and, by a well-meant stratagem, discover how far an offending child may dare his presence. [E.rit through the garden. Enter 38 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Enter the 3Iajor, ruminating. Major. Yes, yes — >,h€ feels as ^vcll as I do — and slie wrote in the Journal — " Let him only *' call those flow ers by the name of Suzctte, that " are blasted by lightning, and broken by a ** tempest," [looks towards the flower stands] All the favourites Mere called Suzette once — They bloom'd fresh, young, and beautiful — they droop'd, they were destroyed — therefore the}^ may be callVl Suzette now— I hate the sight of them — there are other windows in the room, to give light, as well as this [draws a curtain be- fore the garden window] I'm glad, however, the neighbours dont know I really went to seek the Girl. Enter Gregory (an old Sei^vant), Gregory. Sir, Mrs. Nancy has got a letter from her master, Squire Balance, and wishes to know if she may deliver it. Nancy enters. Now, who bid you come up without leave ? Nancy. Sir ! Major Corslet, mayn't I come in? Major. Yes — no matter who comes now. There was a time, wiien the sound of a female voice A COMEDY. 55 voice at that door always announced pleasure to me. Grkgory. Ay, that was in ]\Iiss's time: but I'll never mention her to your honour, I'm de- termined. \^Exit. Nancy. I'm sure, Sir, I came with all the pleasure in the world with this note from my master. — William was to have brought it ; but he's not in the way : and I wou'dn't have him get anger on any account. jMajor. I had determined to receive no more messages form your master — to open no more notes. Nancy. Then shall I open him for you, Sir? Major. Uak'uig it.^\ I\o — your master's a man of no resolution — that's what I dislike him for-^hc quarrels, relents, and never sticks to his purpose as I do. You see, it was by mere acci- dent I broke tlie seal. Nancy. I'm sure, Sir, if you knew how he talks of you, — and as for Mr. Amen, the parish clerk, he has sent for him, and given him such a mortal set-down on your account — You never knew the like. Major. What 's Mr. Amen to me ? Nancy. I was in hopessucha thing wou'd'nt come to your knowledge, Sir ; I'm sure, if it was any book but a church book, I'd tear the leaf eMt with my own hands. Major. #0 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Major. What leaf? Nancy. Every bodv do know what that web do mean, and are only puzzled to make out who the wicked spider stands for in the middle ofit. ]Majcr. Spider ! — Web I — What the devil do you mean ? Nancy. Nay, Sir, you musn't mind it — it's quite a common ihing in our parish, when any unfortunate girl — Ma J0R> I comprehend — It's all as it shou'd be — ^Ir. Amen is in the right — It is his duty to set up beacons and warnings, and webs, to cau- tion female flies not to play around the flame* He's a much younger man than I — but if this c ine don't fly across his back, may it fail to pro- tect its master against scoundrels ! Enter William. WiLLM. Sir ! master has sent me to know if you have got a note that Nancy. Yes, William ; I brought it. Won't vou read it. Sir? Major. There are i^ospido^s in it, are there? Let's see — Come, I'll make a fool of myself once more, and sliake hands with vour master for the last time ; return to my cottage; lock myself from the world, nor shall the voice of the Syren herself tempt me from my solitude a single step — [reails.] " Intelligence to astonish, *' and, perhaps, delight you, — News of your *' daughter" A CO MED Y. 4i daughter" — stand from the door, you blockhead — don't you know you master's waiting for me ? you master — mind, I dOnt go on the girVs ac- count — r.o — \^ slie A\'as even — zounds! what an old fool I am to stand prating liere all tliis time. [E.v'it, WiLLM. Poor srentlcman i wliat a sad thinc' it be, vou see, Xancv, ^hen voun^* women are too easily given to listen to young men ! Tlieres no knowing, as one may, ^vhat may be the end on*t. Naxc Y. Xo. William tliere is no knowino-. AViLL:\r. You and I, you see, may consider the old gentleman as a sort of a moral to all vouno- lovers. 2n AXCY. Yhii and /, ^Villiam ? "WiLLM. Yes ; — for when folk get all alone bv themselves, and nobody M'itli them, and talk about these sort o'matters as we do.— Naxcy. IVc talk, Vv'illiam ! — I'm sure 1 haven't said a syllable. Wir.LM. Nor I don't v/isli you — so sit down. — I ha' been thinkins: how soon mischances do take place — we both know the untimely ru- ination of the major's daughter, and, to day, I ha' seen as fme a young woman as ever open'd ii pair of fine eyes, that, hadn't it been for master Charles, v.'ou'd ha' shut 'em for ever. Naxcy. Do you like fine eyes, William ? W'lLLM, Yes, in a ladv: but talk of eves, G ber.^ il^ GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: hers are no more to compare to yours than- Nancy. Hush i— tell me of the lady — and so she was run away with by some sad man, I suppose? WiLLM. No: bv four lono--tailed Q-vev Gal- loways — and so I was thinking as accidents come before we look for 'em, if any thing- was to haj)- pen to me,, wliy. perhaps, you wouldn't feel al- together so comfortable as you do at this moment. Nancy. Dear me. William, how you do talk ! WiLLM. So, having saved up a small matter in sarvice, I thought fit to let you know, that if I shou'd die before we get wed, which shan't happen, if I can help i'c, youll find in the right hand corner of the left little drav.er, in my chest, a small bag, containing all my worldly property, in monev, ^v]lich together with my wearing ap- peal, you are welcome to make use of, whenevei you please. Nancy. Mc\ wear your apparel, William I why, what a foolish man ! — you've made me cry, as if it was all in earnest. WiLLM. And it/A' in earnest. — And it's agrcat pleasure to me to make you cry, for it shews tluiL vou be jzood, and tender hearted. And therefore it is to be hopcxi, that whenever your loving kind- ness and good niiture brings you into danger from the fil^seheartcdness of nuiukiud \tahing her hand^ A C O M E D Y. 4S /iand] you'll never w:int tlie guardian angel of prudence to take care of you; and if/shou*d ever be so wicked as to mcAi you any harm, and so following, that my conscience may sav to me — Su z ETTE. [suddcnhj draxclng the xvindozv cur- tahi] William ! Nancy. Bless me, William ! what was that ? Suzette conies forzicird. ^ViLLM. Goodness look do^n upon us, and keep us from all manner of misfortunes, if that isn't the ghost of madam Suzette, never trust me ! Suzette. Don't he alarnvd — I didn't wil- lino'lv listen to you ; hut as my m.oments here are very precious, and you seemed to foro-et you M-erc in a strano-e house, I was obli£>'ed to inter- rupt you. VriLLM. I am very glad you did, and so is Xancy, I dare say. Naxcy. Me ! I am sure I have no reason to be 2:lad. Suzette. I hope you were making no bad use of her good opinion. Nancy. No, Miss, he was makincr his will. Suzette. I know the absence of my father, and come here to make an experiment which admits no loss of time; but, as you hope to be happy in each other, do not, pray do not betray me. G a Wl LLM. 44 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: \Vi Lim. Xcver, ]\Iiss — AVilllam is not the niau, nor she neither, to betray a secret, especially Mhen it hasn't beef, told us. SuzETTT. I only wish you to conceal your having seen me; butyoii, no doubt, think it cri- minal to favour a wretcli who has embittered th.e latter days of an inrlulg-ent father. Nancy. I'm sure we ah\ays were sorry, very sorry for you ; and >o v,as }our poor father, miss — he never would bear the sight of a single flower of your planting, and has oflen said, that goodness and garden-pots, V\hen once nipt in the bud, never flourish any more. Sl'zi.ttk. Perhaj)S lie may be a])le, without disgrace, to pardon an offending child, or should he not, his fiowers may i)lcom again. Xancv. But not like r/hat thev used to be ^slien ?/o:/ planted them. Wi Lr.3i. Ave, then thev were so beautiful — on the right, and on the left, and in the middle — I tliink I see 'em now, ju.^t like — Sf z t'jT v.. Like this ? {drcnvs the curtain, and discovers all the stands hcautijuUij replenished) Nancy. Why, sure as sure, wc be all be- witch'd ! Wr LI yi. We liad better go indeed, for, some- how, I begin to feel a little (pieerish. SuzETTF. There is nothing to ije alarm'd at • — you have only to be faithful to your promise, and perhaps the innocence of SuzCtte may thus 1 aj^pcc^r A COMEDY. 45 appear with renovated life, while a parent's for- giveness, like the all-cheering sun, shall cherish its return, and ensure its continuance. lE.vif. AViLLM. I don't exactly understand all that — but we'll go home, and keep her secret safe, and, as Mr. Triangle says, if I had as many lives as Plutarch, I never shou'd forget how suddenly zurely she did pop in a top of us. [E.veioit. End of Act IL 46 GUILTY oil NOT GUILTY: ACT IIL S C E N E I. J?i apartment at Mr. Balance's. Enter Balance and the IMajor. Balance. But doesn't this cany somethin*:: like confolation with it ? The servant said she was married, and looked well and contented. Major. How dare she look well and content- ed, M'hen her poor old father, for aught she knows, may be breakhig his heart. Balance. Come, come — I foresee that her return is the prelude to a reconciliation. ]\Ia J OR. Which must be acted \vithout mr — and I begin to suspect that you iiave some share in the plot of it. Balance. I Mish I had, ]\Injor — any plot that has domestic peace for its object deserves to be applauded. Nay, don't go — stay liere, and let us have one of our old-fashioned social evenfngs together. ^Iajor. No; I'll go ])omc — I'm fit for no place else — besides, she may call. Balance. If'/iomny Culir ]\Iajor. Who! V/hv, mv d^uHi — now, what an A COMEDY. 47 ail old, insinuating,-, pmiiping, sly piece of artifice thou art. You've found nie out, you tliinic. Balance, Lono- ago, ^lajor — you have all the proper teeling.s of a man, except that of not being ashamed of 'em. ?Jajoii. Perhaps, Sir, you think I wisli for the day to reeoneile me to Suzette, as much as she does. Balance. I'm sure of it. ]\lAjoii. And Tm asham'd of it. It Is not for ourselves we shou'd pardon or punish our chikh'en — 'tis for society — and if my dauohter is to be restored to the privileges she has forfeit- ed, because I am an easy blockhead, c\ery father has a right to accuse me of taking from innocence the just belief, that her patli once quitted, is seldom thorougldy regained. — So, let's talk of something else. You didn't happen to hear who this husband of her*t> is, did vou? Balance. I thought you wish'd to change the conversation, Major. So I did — I had no intention to speak of her when I asked about her husband, I only wanted to know if the poor little inno- cent child — Why, what do vou lauo-h at, you heard -hearted Hottentot ? The 'uifant never offended me. Balance. True: — and if the father is an honest man — Major, 48 GUILTY OH NOT GUILTY: Major. And, provided the girl is really married. Balance. Come, I knov/ you'll make us all happy — I know^ you'll a(5l as you ought, and that when you do forgive, you'll do it heartily. Major. You do as you like both with her and me. I hope she'll bring the child — not that I shall see it at first. Balance. Do you mean to send for her ? Major.. No ; — but yoii do, don't you ? Balance. Upon my honour, I know not where to find her : but the moment she rc-appears, I shall have ample intelligence. Major. Well, then, you shall go home with me; and if the old cottage is to look gay once more, tlie smile of friendship will best prepare it for the return of paternal pleasure. Balance. With all my heart. Entei' Mrs. Balance and Triangle. Balance. IMy dear, 1 am glad to leave you in such entertaining company. I am going tu pass an houi"- with the Major — to whom I have been relating something I heard about a certain lady in a carriage, who — Major. [apart'\ My daughter, of course. Trian. Oh, that's all over tb.e town by thie time. Balance. Indeed! Trian. A COMEDY. 49 Triax. The horses set off with her — never saw any thing so trert>endou5 in all my life. Pa ' .^ xc h. What ! set oif with her ? Trian. Full 2"al]oD. Bat. A N c E. Was she h u rt ? Triax. I beHeve not — your son, Charles, is the man after all — -nd if the othrr ofentleman don't take care, -spiders v,Tbs may not be con- fined to — • \Bala)2ce stops his mouth.'] ]\Iajor. Cease yrnr in; pertinence, and tell me whether Suzette has suffered from beino- run away with ? Trtan. Why, really, that question is such a dehcatc one — Mrs. Balance. He only means, that you men are so unmindful of females, that a dashing baronet left his sister to the mercy of a phaeton and four, while he v/as talking nonsense in a news-room. Triax. In the hall, Madam. Nonsense and my news-room are incompatible. Major. Why, this has nothing to do with my daughter ? Triax. Not that I know of, upon my honour. Balance. Well, but what has it to do with my son ? Mrs. Balance. Your son behaved like a man, and saved a fine young woman, who was H on *o GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: on her way to be married to young Rigid, the Reprobate. 13a LANCE. Saved her! what, from the marriao'e f Triax. No, fir; from the stocks, in the market-place : — for if he hadn't stopt the horses where he did, she'd have been overturn'd there to a certainty. M A J o R. And sooner than a daughter of mine shou'd m.arry such a monster as young Rigid, she shou'd sit m the stocks all her life-time. [Gots up stage.'] Balance. Well; but Avho is this young lady? Mrs. Balance. We don't know; but Mr. Triano'le says her brother is quite a character, wliose conversation is — Trian. Always in the stable, Madam — a per- fe6l Gulliver from the Houyhnhnms — he asked IMr. Charles to visit him ; if he does, I dare sav, he'll find his valet de chambre, a farrier; hii^ cook, a bit-maker ; his house built in the form of a horse-shoe, and nothing for dinner but a saddle of mutton. Balance. But, is the girl pretty? ^^^'^^RTAN. Geometrically perfect: — her iigure is the line of beauty, each of her eyes a circle of enchantment, her Wee oval, 'her nose a right- kngled triangle ; her waist an elegant inverted ^diie ; and her pretty little feet taper as a pair of compasses. A COMEDY. -^ 5\ Mrs. Balance. Then, Charles, I suppose, is over head and ears ? Triax. He has entered a servitor in Cupid's college, and if he finds aj'tllozcship in the lady's afiection, wou'd willingly quit his batchtlor'ti decree to become head of a family. Balance. Then you may tell him, Sir, that I am one head of this family, and there is the other (pointing to Airs. B.) And that not all the geometrical figures, triangular eyes, and circular noses in the world, shall excuse his giving himself away without our permission. ^Majoii. (conies forward) Come, come along; friend Balance. I can think of nothing now, but this girl of mine. Balance. Well, but, my dear, I beg Mr. Triano-le will tell you how far Charles is con- cerned in this affair. i\Irs. Balance. Ay, ay, I'll get alh out of him, you may depend. Major. Was ever any thing so stupid as a doating old father! Here are you talking about Charles, who is quite old enough to take care of himself, while my daughter may — yes, she mai^ be waiting for us at home. Balance. ^V'as ever any thing so stupid as a doatino' old father ! \^E.vit ivith the Major. ^Irs. Balance. And, now, Sir, with regara H 2 to 5t GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: to Charles, you say, that, when the lady was gone — Triax. Yes, Ma'am, when she was gone, I expressed my wonder to Mr. Charles at her not offering to peruse my triple list of scholars, sub- scribers, and ncM's readers — Fm sure the library ladies are of the first fashion by their being so plaguy hard to please — There's lady Gothic, you see, at the head of them. Mrs. Balance. Fiddle of lady Gothic ! so, Charles — Trian. Don't say a word against lady Gothic - — She's the best customer I have to my back — Reads marvellous romances all'--day; sups full with horrors every night.— and hangs her great hall full of black plumes, brazen bucklers, steel gloves, and iron skull-caps. Mrs. Balance. Yes, truly, her worulerful books are so overcharged with spirits^ that she cou'dn't read bv candle li^ht, without settinir her house on fire. Tria-v. A\ hich enabled her to build a new one in the o/<^ style, in uhich all the furniture is most venerably inconvenient, and there isn't a dresser in the kitchen, that doesn't put one in mind or Artliur's round table. Mrs. Balance. '\Vell, Sir, if you will ])ut oblige me vitii Mhatpafi'ed between Charles and the lady, I'll double my subscription directly. Tn I A N'. Will you ? Then I'll just read a small prospectus A COMEDY. 53 prospectus T have drawn up, setting forth he several advantages of each establishment, and concluding with a poetical invitation to those who are fatioued with learning and politics, to take recreation in the regions of Romance, which, in eighteen lines I have thus described. Mrs. Ba la X c k. Nay, but if you won c favour me — Til I AX. O yes, I will ; sit down, and Til favour you directly, [^/ze sits reluctantlij — he reads\ *'My cottage, tho' small, noble company owns; You'll meet such at very few tables : I breakfast with Pamela, dine with TcmJones^ And sup with the beasts in Gays Fables.''' Mrs. Balance, [with impatience.\ Y^rj clever ! and so the lady and Charles — Trian. \ixads.'] *' With Peregrine Pickle I season my fare, And when weary I lay down my head, Tve Sir Launcelot Greaves To keep out the thieves, While I take Betsy Thoughtless to bed." Mrs. Balaxce. [rises'] Well, if ever I heard Enter William. WiLL^r. A Tad am, my master left \vord — Triax. Hush, William 1 \y^\\X\Vi\i\ whispers Mrs, Balance, a^/?o o-oe.9 out. — William 67V.> doan in her chair, ^;/^ Triangle not observing hinZj continues reading.] ^4 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: '' Tho' my j^uests are of note^ no distinctiou is seen, From tlie rank of a king to a tinker, And oft Clari/ Harlou^e, as fine as a queen, Reposes on HiunpJirey Clinker, Don Quixote with Roderick Random ao-rees. As bound in good manners to do so ; And smart Peter Pindar Cock'd up in the window, Looks down upon Robinson Crusoe. [ToiCards the last tzvo or three lines Triangle rises with the energy of repetition, and at the conclusion looks down to the chair, where he supposes Mrs. Balance to be sittings and to his suy^prise sees WiUiam.] WiLLM. I've read llobinson Crusoe, he Uvcd on an uninhabited island, where the folks were all black, and wanted to feast upon Friday. 1'riax. I thought your lady was sitting liere. AViL LM. Yes, Sir, but when you talked of lakino- ]\Iiss Betsy to bed, she thouii'ht it time to rise. Triax. And how dare you take the liberty of fitting in presence of a preceptor, who ])lushes for your i<^*norance? WiLLM. It's kind of you, Sir, to do more for me than you would for yourself. Triax. But what can one exj^ect from a blockhead, w hose scholarship never went further than Dilworth ; and who, unable to imbibe a taste for letters beyond words of five syllables, rai^ A COMEDY. ^.5 ran away from school because his last lesson was in-com-pre-hen-si-ble. [E.vif. WiLL!^r. Arid so it was — and if I cou'dn't understand it, I"m not the only young man that left off after learning just enough to confuse him. [E.rif. SCENE 11. — -A romantic sccirden at Edmond Rigid's [o;? one side a Pavilion']. Enter Lord and Lady Rigid, and Sophia. [The latter walks up the stage.'] Lady Rigid. Nay, my lord, why so impa- tlent ? our having called on Edmond was un- expected on his part. Em sure he meant no disrespect to you ; but so conscious was 1 how he would feel on the occasion, that I have ordered the coach to remain. Lord Rigid. Your ladyship was right — and we'll instantly profit by your foresight. Lady Rigid. And yet, perhaps, if you were to return to him — or shall 1 endeavour to con- vince him ? Lord Rigid. No; I have forbidden him to speak to you, me, or any of the family, until he accepts this lady as his wife. [Sophia comes foi^xcard.] Lady Rigid. Shall Sophia speak to him? she seems to wish it. Lord Rigid. To what purjjose ? Soph. To entreat him, for my sake at least, if 56 GUILTY OR'NOT GUILTY: if not for bis own, never to offer his hand, where affection, on either side has so little chance to follow its acceptance. Lord Rigid. Indeed ! I confess young lady, I did not expect quite so much as this from you. Soph. Nor did my father expect from his friend, that a trust so sacred as his daughter's welfare should be made the sport of family convenience. Lord Rigid. I make it a rule never to dispute with ladies, and shall only observe that the carriage is at the gate. Enter Charles. I did not look for this pleasure quite so early, Sir. Charles. It was equally unhoped by me, mv lord — I called on some business with ]\lr. Rigid — by your preparing to depart, I fear he is from home. Lord Rigid. You'll find him here, at the Her- mitage, Sir ; but he is far enough from home with respect to his duty — ladies. Charles. With your permission, III conduct Miss Sophia. Lady Rigid. You have hers, I dare swear. Sir. Cha r les. [while leading off Sophia] . Delight- ful accident ! Lady Rigid. My lord, what do you mean to do ? Lord A COMEDY. c', Lord Rigid. To follow that gentleman very closely : for he seems to have done more towards forming: that girl's opinion in one hour, than your ladyship and I have been able to accom- plish in the course of a v. hole guardianshij). [Exeunt-. Enter Edmonds Rigid on the opposite aide. Edmoxp. I wished to iKnc exchanged some -words with ladv Ri^'id, free from the presence of a witness — but, "tis no matter. Hope and dis- appointment have formed so close an alliance in whatever relates to me, that my mind begins- to feel but little from their usual succession to each other. Re-eufei^ Charles. Charles, my friend ! your visits here have been so rare, a.nd I am lionoured with so few* from others, unless on subjects of an unpleasant' nature, that I can ill dispense \\'\\\\ t'lem. Charles. I came now, on two accounts, each of which materiallv concerns us both. Ed^io>,'d. Relate tlicm. Charlfs. I am in <\. douljlc state of danger, from which yuu only can relieve liK^ for I, at this moment, run the liazard of falling* most flesperately in love, and of losing the friend 1 have Ijitherto been most attached to. Edmond. Your language is more earnest tlian v/hat vou often use. How can xliv aseisl- ance serve the love afrair ? CfiAiiLi^s. Ev vour candid !v tellini^' me. whe- I Lhcr o8 GUILTY oil NOT GUILTY: thcr the attentions it would be my pride to pay the young lady, who has just left the Hermitage, would injure apy prospeet you have tbrnicd. Edmond. Y'ou, perhaps, mean Sophia, though I never heard you mention her before. CiiAKLKs. I never saw her till to-day ; nor, till to-dav — Edmond. Knt'v/ ^\hat it was to love ! ^Vc\\, Sir, \\]n her, and v.ear her. — My father's pro- posing her at this moment, as my v.ife, is as unfortunate a circumstance to me^ as i/cit wou"d call the loss of her to you. CiiAKLES. I have been so happy as to render lier a service. I am going to dine with her brother, and have no fear of obtaining his con- sent; but now to the lemainder of my business with you. Edmoxet. 'vVlfich relates to the apprehended loss of your friend. Charles. Edniond, you are under an en- oaeement to relate your story to n^e. Tlie time miis-t be ?wu' ; for my fatlier has made me pro- mise to iustifv or renounce vou. Edmoxd. Come, then, summon your strength of mind to hear; but fn'st :ell me, and as you would esteem me, tell me truly, what do the AVorld report of me ? Chari is. To be unconscious of its charges, is to be innocent. Edmox d. Docs it folio w_, then, to know them argues guilt : Charles. A COMEDY. 59 Charles. I said not so. Oh, Eclmorid, Tm ashamed to call to ni}' remembrance half what's said. I'rj.MOND. T]ien, Sir, I shall assist you. Arouiul a circle, of which tliis very dwelling forms the centre, 'tis told by greybeards, youth, and even children, that I attempted once my father's life ; tluit his ne\v-/narried bride had not the power to sliield her from my offered violence, though guarded by the sacred name of mother ! Charles. Such charges are too horrible to rest on any o-round vou could have form'd tor tliem. Edmoxd. Yes, there zcere grounds — Nay, start not — more than this— it is reported I was Icao-ued with gamesters; — licentiousness expelled me from the college ; and that my companions of the army dismissed me from their ranks for cowardice. Charles. Tliat is impossible. Edmond. By your reluctance to think me guilty of it, you suppose that cowardice is vror^e than all the crimes I have enumerated. Charles. At least, I'm sure that Edmond is no coward : come, my anxious car longs for your vindication. Edmond. Have I recounted ^/Z that you have ];ieard ? Charles. Yes; and have shadowed vrith the darkest tint the outline that detraction draws for you, 12 Edmond. 60 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Edmond. Nay, Sir, 'tis said too, I seduced the daughter of a worthy man, from his widowed home, I snatched the dearest comfort it con- tained, threw her, unpitied on a reckless world, and,— oh, most horrible ! beheld her sire, torn with afriiction, humbled to the (Uist, and did not dare assuage the grief 1 caused him. Charles. And is this true? Edmoxd. I dare not contradict it. Charles. Yet, tell me, Edmond, what could steel your mind against all sense of principle and nature ? Edmonp. a fiend, that long has fixed his venomVl f:mgs deep in my dearest feelings, Sir, the zcorld J— In wise menVthoughts 1 was, from infancy, condemned, and early scorned to stooj) for vindication.— From childhood driven thus to depend on iny ^veak self, where is the wonder- that I may have fallen ? Chakle^. Yet, to society you owe— Ed.aiond. To .society at large I shall not bend-— To you, while I recount deeds more atrocious slid, yo!i mu^t resolve to hear with patience, nay more — \a .small chime of bells is heard from the r'^iriiio?i\ — H'dYk} Charles, you inust leave me— e'rc evening, Lli meet you here a^ain. Charles. Shall I, then, hear — ? Edmond. 1 wou\l fain keep your friendship, and am sorrv I rasldv promised a disclosure of what nuay hazard it — at present leave me. [turns up the stage.'] A COMEDY. 61 Charles. This hesitation defeats my hopes to find him what I wished — Yet I will come — if he eludes me then, we meet no more. [Exit. Edmoxd. Yes, he, too, is deceiv'd — he was to have been the husband of Suzette ! — and had he seen her, his quick sense of what the world calls honour, might have foiled my best intentions. Suzette enters from ihc Pavllio??, Suzette. Am I not soon returned ? the sub- terraneous grotto, with the assistance of the servants, enabled nie to do all I had hoped. I have intelligence thut my father has kindly heard of my arrival — what I've prepared may soften him still more. Edmoxd. I wish vou m.av succeed — I am olad vou o-ave the sio-nal from the turret — There was one with me, who — Suzette. So earnest! was it my father? Edmoxd. No — why shou'd you imagine so ? Suzette. Because I think of no one else. 1 am so agitated ! In two hours I am to meet him — no wonder he was angry if he heard it. What do you think has been reported ? Edmond. Tell me, Suzette. Suzette. It has been told, but I hope not to him, that I left home with the young man who formerly lived here, and wliom, thank Heaven, I never saw. Edmoni^, 05 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Edmond. And wliy tbaiil: Heaven ? SuZETTE. AVhat an unkind question ! ilav'n't I told you what a xvicked man be was — and was it not you who protected me from his aeenls ? Edmond. Do you not fear him now ? SuzETTE. No — with you I am in safety. It was at mv earnest wisii vou boimht this house and grounds, that, if not forgiven, I might, ai least, be near my father. Edmoxd. Would he never ha\"e relented, had you married this reprobate — 6.0 ifou not pity the poor outcast. S u z ET T E. Heartily — I have done wrong, and felt too much, not to be very sorry for all else who have erred. Edmoxd. Sweet 2:irl ! united to such a mind as thine, perhaps b.e might — SuzETTE. He! united to him ! worlds would not have tempted me. EdMOXI). JlHiCcd ! Su z WYT i:. Do you doubt me? ITiOugh I have reason to (Hstrust myseli' — in this respect 1 can)iot l^e deceived. Ed.mond. V.']iat being lives that n:ay not be deceived ? '\\'ho tbinks lie cannot, most deceives himself. # [E.vcimt, End of Act IIL A C O MED Y. OS ACT SCENE I.— A hall at Lord Rioid's. Kfiter Sir Harry [tipsi/l led bij Charles. Sin Har:'V. Thank ye, riy good frienci — do let us rest a little, [sits on a set lee] We have got safe to Eord Ria:icrs after makins^ cacli oilier i;s happv as any tvro lords in Chriftendoni. CiiAiii-Es. r should be much happier if yoti were in your chamber. Sir Hartiy. I sha"n*t fiir a foot — Richard ! get me a pipe. Chaklks. Vv'hat, witliout lady Rig-'d's per- mission? Sir Ha R a Y. It's no u-e asking her-*-for she never smokes to my certain knovrledge. Charles. I shall avail myself of your pro- mise of a horse, to convey m.e home, and must return immediately. Sir Harry. You're in a monstrous hurry; hut if vou ride no better than vou drink, you'll be off before vou wish it. Charles. Perhaps \hile tlie King's Arms can boast a batch of good home-brewed constitution, he mav kick all the' foreign ftuff out of the countrv. Enter Sophia. Sophia. I tliought my brother was here, Sir, [sees hini]. Why, Harry! Good Heavens! no accident, 1 liope. CuARLES. None- but what rest will cure. Madam. Sir Harry's I'cccnt alarm for your safety, and his subsequent fatigue, have a little incommoded hiim SOPJIIA. A COMEDY. G5 ■ Sophia. I fear I comprehend you, Sir -I'll order his servant to be calTd. Charles. He has begg'd not to ])e disturbed, IMadam, and, like myself , prefers his present situation to any other. Sophia. You are very kind, and I shall ever be your debtor — but the presence of a brother, would not, in my guardian's eyes, sufficiently excuse this accidental intercourse. Charles. Yet if the son of Lord Rigid is insensible to the happiness intended him — Sophia. Even then your perseverance will injure my fortune, perhaps offend your family, and certainly be the ruin of that brother whose kindness for me is extreme, and who, by his good nature, is already too much in the power of mv o'uardian. Sir Har UY. [rising suddenly] Well, and what then ? I tell you, if I were ruined twice over, and a civil word to my lord would save me from it a third time, he shou"dn't have it, it" he used vou ill. Sophia. Nay, but my dearest brother — Sir Harry. What does she talk about me for, when she knows that as long as she's to be made happy, I don't care two-pence how it's brought about, [Sophia goes up in tears.] Charles. But now you are making her ■i/whappy. Sir Harry. What, because she's roaring? — K ^hc 6(5 GUILTY OR NOT fiUILTY: Sh.',' does that on j)ur|)osc. K'cnt I so plagii}' fond of her tliat, tliis very day, Avhen you saved lier from bcini;- overturned, I lan first to take carcof tlie blaek poney, because I knew he Mas lier favourite ? There, came, now don't cry — (Ji's tliy liand, and liold thy tonp;ue, and let 7?ic U'[\ the story my ov. n ^ay ; — never he afraid of nw, I'm l]^e best temper'd fellow in the v»orl(i V. lien notliinij; vexes me. Sophia. But vou are so soon made ans^rv. SirllviiuY. Am 1? A\iiy then tell the story yourself, if you like it. SoiMiiA. I had better iclne — And, indeed, if you M'ou'd but — Sir ILvum'. I siia'n't stir, nor shall you neitlier \ takes her hand], I'll tell it myself. You nuist know, Sir, that wh.en my father died, ]jo(>r n]an ! — \Miy, v. hat the deuce makes thee cry }toic ? 1 fay, he dird wlieu we were younir and innocent — that's a long A\inle ago. Slie x\as a complete beaut}', and I were rcckon'd so like her, tliat f)iks u>eii to say, there v/as a pair o)^ us. Chaulks. Well, Sir r Sir.--JlAUUY. M'ell, Sir, my lord was our guardian, and she was to marry one of his three i-ons, two of whom died, and Sophy is just ]}rought here, to see the third-, lur the second time in her life. IJer fortune all goes without .she has him; and I have just heard that so far from being an honest man, he — CllAKLLS. A C O M E D Y. 67 Charles. Wliatever you have lieard to the prejiuHce of E(hiioii(l Rigid, I cannot licar re- peated, while 1 liave tlie houoar to call myself his friend. Sir Harry. I like you the hetter for saying so ; but we'll talk more of that bye and bye. I had made a little too fi^e with my cash upon the race-course, was bubbled by a set of blacklegs, and dipp'd my estate. ^iy lord bought the mortgage, and will foreclose directlv. if we don't do as he bids us ; — but if she don't hke it, she sha'n't, and there's au end. Sophia. I had once determined not to yield too implicitly, where my happmess is so seriousls' at ftake — but the full knowledge of his situation, which I bcford only suspected, now tells me 'tis a sacred dutv not to mam- A\ithout mv lord's V V *' approval. Charles. And may 1 hope tliat I am ac- quainted with the only bar to your permitting my future attentions? [to Sophia.] Soph ia. Abar not easily removed ; for though the violation of domestic restiaint may succeed in the false colouring of imagination, yet plea- sure so obtained will have fiction for its basis, as long as 'Sol'ul happiness is to be the result of ^reason, and the reward of virtue. [E.vit. Charles. Permit me to say, Sir Harry, if mv lather's interference with regard to your property can avail, you may command tlte K 2 service 68 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: service of a man of business, Avbo is also a man of honoiii-. Sir ILauhy. You're kind, I own ; Init things are not (]uite so had as 1 made 'em out; and enougli yet remains as a hedge against the odds of liis lordsliip's favour. A young man, I took for one of tlie gamblers who fleeced me, saved me a considerable sum, of which Sister knows nothing. And he wlio ])efriended me, only desired in return, that I should never tell Lord Kigid. Charlf.s. May I ask wlio this friend was? Sir Harry. He called himself Wilson, but nobodv knew him: and tlie name he went bv "N\'a.s not his own ; but I have talked myself quite Aw, and am ready now for another ii'lass. CiiAi{j.Es. No, no; to bed, my friend. Sir Harry. You don't mean to say, that what I have drank has done me any harm P GiiAKLP.s. But viorc would do you harm. So, farewel, and remember, the hospitality of a convivial board would never lead us to excess, did not the ignis fatuus of pleasure in perspec- tive point to the seductive charms of t'other bottle. iExit. Sii- Harry. And what's one's whole life but pleasure in j)erspective : A pretty girl sees it in licr looking-glass; her expecting lover in au ]unn-glass ; 1 sec it through a <'//7*///i7';^«'-g!ci.ss ; and if I ha])p('n to view it at the wrong end, the A C O M E D Y. 69 the bottle can't err, and must set me right again. So, 1 ziill have another, and if my Lord comes across mc in my cups, while I ask him for a friend or a sentiment, I'll desire him to leave liimscif and his opinions out of the question. Enter Lady Rigid a?id Sophia. Lady Rigid. Why so unhappy, Sophia? You have seen too little of Edmond to disHke liim. He has failings, but I believe his heart is excellent. Sophia. Such an apology, Madam, is weak as it is common. If excellent hearts arc only given to excuse bad actions, from what sources shall we look for good ones ? Lady Rigid. Really, Sophia, this style — '' Sophia. My situation must plead my pardon. Van married to please T/our friends ; tell me, on vour honour, do vou know no real cause whv I ought not to follow your Ladyship's example r Ladv Rigid. Alas I 'tis too true, I married to pleahc my friends. Imperious circumstances forced me to wed the father, when — Hush! here comes my Lord. Efiter Lord Rigid. Lord Rigid. I have just received another })roof of Edmond's disobedience. He has dared to 70 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: to marrv without m\ knowlcdirc ; a oirl too, who will disgrace us. But l)e sliall quit the lltrmitagc, shall quit the kingdom, and give up all claim to the notice of a justly irritated father. J^dy Rigid. Married ! Is he really married? Lord Rigid. You may he well surprised; but wliy should we wonder at a wretch, who — Lady Rigid. Do not decide till you have given iiic a moment *s audience. — I cannot look upon his total ruin, [aside] Lord Rigid. No; every tie that jo inedme totliat worthless wretch is at an end. Lady Rigid. As to what has passed, per- haps even I may have been deceived, perhaps have misinterpreted — Lord Rigid. No — the anguish, the despair, your countenance, that fatal dav, betrayed, too jjowerfully impress my memory. Sophia. And yet this man, my father s friend had ciiosen for my husband. Lord Rigid. Silence ! 'i'o yonr Chamber! Lady Wici-D.^to Sophia.] Do not increase his passion by reply. Ill follow you. [E.vit Soj)hia. Pray, my tlcar lord, licar what I have to urge. Lord R I (i ID. Cjo — wait my coming, then. [nirji.s up the stage,] Ladv Rigid. Alas ! this au>teritv has heen my A COMEDY. 71 my banc; fear of his anger firft taught me dupli- city, and one step from trutli has involved mc in consequences fatal to my peace ; but whicli must be averted from one, M'ho, unfortunately, suifers with me. [E.vit. Lord Rigid. Tm justly punished for having; so long cherished a thankless vi|>cr. I had hoped his marriage with Sophia — even there I acted wrong, for my avaricious haste may liave hurried him into this union with a c'irl he had seduced too — Scandalous ! Re-enter Sir Harry (more intoxicated). Sir Harry. So it is, my Lord, vc/y scanda- lous, — I've been ill used by the butler, affronted in the stable, and called names by the chamber- maid. Lord Rigid. And you find their master in as ill a humour for trifling with blockheads. Sir Harry. And so am L I wou\hi"t h'itlc with your lordship for the world. Lord Rigid. Sir, if yon mean to take liberties! Sir Harry. I never take liberties with a man I don't like. Lord Rigid. Then, Sir, what do you intend by this rudeness ? Sir Harry. Onlv to sav three thino.s — mv greys shall keep the four-ftall stable — Lll choose my own wine, and Sophy shan't marry any body unlefs she likes. Lord Rigid. Is this a time to be troubled with a brute, v/hen m.y son — Sir Harry, 72 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Sir Harry. The less you say about him the better. — He's a very sad fellow, and I'm afraid takes after his father. Lord Rigid. Sir, you have disgraced his fa- ther's manfion long enough, and nothing but my respect for the memory of your parent could induce me to submit to the degradations 1 have already. Sir Harry. Yes, your respect for my father made you wink at my extravagance, till you bought my estate, and took all possible cai-e of my sister's, by marrying her to your son, to add it to your own. Lord Rigid. An alliance with mij family, young man, was an honour to which your sister might aspire. Sir Harry. Don't abuse my sister — If she don't marry Edmond, she may get an honest man. Lord RuriD. Edmond shall hear of and punish this insolence. Sir Harry. Psha ! He won't fight — you told me so yourself Lord Rigid. Then, Sir, his father will — away —sleep off your unmanly intemperance, prepare to ask my pardon, or expect to make severe atonement for your headstrong insolence. [E.vit. Sir Haki{y. Not I indectl, old dignity. Its not the fashion to ask pardon now-a-days — when a man's in the right, he'd be zvro?tg io do it; '>< and A C O M E D Y. 73 and when he"s in tlu,\ wrong a real gentleman ought to be asham'd to own it. [E.rit. SCENE IL — The ^lajors, as before. Enter Balance (nid the ]\Iajor5 through the garden. Major; [looking ?vtind] Did you ever know such a seducins: bao-o-ao-e? not a flower here but exactly replaces some one I was attached to : the cunning hussey \ I'll knock her down the moment I see her. Balance. You see how she is beloved. Your servants muft have been privy to a cir- cumstance like this. Major. And how cou'd thei/ assist her? 1 keep none now but Gregory the gardener, and old Dorothy. Balance. ITmph ! this is no gardenei^'s work, to be sure. Major. We'll soon see that. Why, Gre* gory ! Enter Gregory. Well, Sir ! I suppose you know^ who placed all these flow^ers here ? Gregqry, Why, I do know, and I do not, fox a stranger assisted in it. L BalaxC£. 74 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Balanck. I suppose, tooy you put sonic of 'em there. Gkecorv. Yes, I lent a liand — lord bless her, how could she have lifted Major. She! who's she? Grkgory. The stranger — a lady — she spoke very khidly of 3^ou ; and, when, in moving that rosebush a thorn tore her delicate white hand. she said, * never mind, — to please my father, I'd lose every drop in my veins/ ]Major. Did she indeed 1 Balaxce. ril be bound she did — old Grc- o:orv will swear it. Guegor v. That I wou'd — Heaven bless her ! she was the delight of my old eyes. Major. I say, Gregory, come here — who the devil are you talking of all this while ? Gregory. Who? why, bless my heart, I didn't mention her name, did I ? — I promised I wou'd not do that — and I hope I'm not such a roq-ue as to be worse than my woi'd. Balance. No — you only said she was her father's daughter. ]\Iajor. And how dare you suflcr licr to enter my doors when I commanded you not? Gregory. Because your ordera were given in ^passion ; and she asked me as if lier little heart was breakins:. - Major. A C O M E D Y. 70 Major. What right had she to break her heait — She might have been happy. Balance. And v:ill he, when she sees you. Gregory. She would have gone down on her knees ; but I told her, if you cauglit her kneeling on my hot beds you'd be very angry. ]\1ajor. Hark ye, Sir?— that's my livery, and you have worn it five-and-twenty years. Gregory. AV'ell, I'm not ashamed, even of that. The livery of a good man disgraces no- body, and shews that the wearer has a charac- ter of his own, though he happens to wear the coat of another. Major. Umph ! I begin to think you have worn mine rather too long. Gregory. Well, then, I must pull it oflt, that's all. Balaxce. Nay, Major, confider— Gregory. Let him alone— I can work — I am only sixty-seven, and 1 have seen service enough in the Major's company to entitle me to wear the King's coat, who, Heaven bless him ! is a master who would never deiyre me to j)ull it oft' again. IMajor. You shall pull oft* that, however, and then [gives money] go buy another, and smoke your pipe in my chimney-corner as long as you live; for it's a shame such a fellow as you shou'd be obliged to wear any coat but his ow^n. L2 Balanc£. 76 GUILTY oa NOT GUILTY: Balance. Bravo, Major! Why don't you obey your officer, Greo'orv ? Gregory. ]\Ie ! v/hat have I clone to de- serve being made a gentleman of in my old age :^ Major. Acted the part of a brave fellow; ran the risk of losino* your ovn home, by letting: my daughter come to hers, and shewn yourself" a better man than your mafter, by feeling for the unfortunate. Balaxce. And }Tt, I dare say, this was all a secret to old Gregory ! Gregory. So it was, Sir ! and I can tell master one worth two of it. IVIiss Sr-y is in the next room, pale as ashes, frightened to death, and quivering like quicksilver at every door that opens. Major. And Fve a great mind to reduce you to the ranks again, for not telling me sooner. Where is ^hc ! the uuGfracious child, who could add to her former faults, that of being nine mi- nutes in this house without letting her fLithcr know it. [Exit. Balaxce. Well, Gregory ! Mhat do you say to this ? Gregory. That it's all as it shou'd be. Sir! and that when a'ood luck tumbles into the i^ouse, its better to catch fast hold of it, than to stand looking to see what crevice it came in at. [Exit. Balance. A C O ^I E D Y. 7T Balanc E. ril go and seek food for my jour- rial in this scene of felicity, — ^[y presence may be necessary to keep things even, too ; for I know my friend the major so well, tliat if the smallest obstacle should lie in the road he has just found to happiness, lie'U be pretty sure to stumble over it. [E.vit. SCEXE III. — The i^'ai^den at the Hermitacre. Ente^r Charles and Edmond. Edmoxd. Remember, that what I am re- lating, I prove but by my words — if I deceive you, be tlie blame your own. Charles. Go on — I've heard from others you were the victim of your parents partiality for their other offspring. ^Edmoxd. Yes; I was the rejected, the de- spised — till an event, sudden as horrible, decided competition. My brothers were sufPer&d to take their pleasure in a sailing yatch, which I had used to steer, and that day asked in vain to bear them company. — A servile tutor undertook tli€ vessefs charge, the two youths paid him no obedience, and in some resulting contest o'erset the boat, and all v/ere lost. Charles. From what you feel at present, I can picture your parents anguish. Edmond. In my mother's phrenzy, I heard 78 "' GUILTY ou NOT GUILTY: her make tlie dreadful declaration, that liad / perished, and her darlings lived, slie had not grieved. A relative, Avho saw my treatment, left me this estate, on condition I did not marry till a certain aire. I laid the writinors at my i'ather's feet — this was called affectation — where's the wonder, then, I sank into a gloomy apathy, m liich formed fre^h suhject for reproof. Chari.ks. Your mother — Ed^ioxp. Died shortly after — I left home for college — tlie social kindness of my fellow students was so new to me, that dissipation followed, and in a nightly brawl — Oh ! Charles, never shall I forget that dreadful scene — worlds should not tempt me to renew — ]\Iajok. [^speaks ivithout] Don't tell me of liis being busy. Edmoxd. The Major ! jMajor, entering. Major. When an old soldier seeks Iiis mortal enemy, who shall bar his passage? Edmond. Sir, if you come — Major. I come to relate two short stories, and, then, leave j/o?^ to make the application. Edmoxu. I am attentive. Sir. Major. A veteran, who had s^:)ent his best blood in the battles of old England, brought home Ins honour, hall-pay, nine scars, and an A C () M E I) Y. 79 only child — she was snatched from him by seduction;— the oUl soldier was just about to forgive her eveiy thing, when he learned slie liad married, without knowing it. a most noto- rious villain 1 Charles. Sir, if you ^vou"d have patience you might have heard — Major. How the wretch seduced her — I'll tell \ou, Sir — He fou^d her in the cottage of poverty, raising up the sick and feeble, like the benevolence of Heaven, when it falls on the drooping fiower — He, then, became charitable himself, made presents to the poor, and love to tlie innocent, and, creating sympathy in the bosom of a o-irl, who had no mother to advise her, he assumed another name, taught her to weep at the romance of his feign'd misfortimes, seiz'd a moment of weakness, which, of itself, would have been a barrier of adamant to aa honest man, and sacrificed the virtue of my child ! Charles. But having made amends hy marria2:e — ]\Iajor. He becomes on a level with the man, who, when detected in stealing my pro- perty, oifers to purchase it. Sir, [to Edjnond] I knew you could produce no argument of defence, and therefore came provided Avith one a-piece for us, \offers pistols'] Take your choice. ED>r0ND. 80 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Edmoxd. [takes a pistol^ Take your owii amends, Sir : — if a mad action must be com- mitted, one agent is quite sufficient. William enters, and r 2 'VVlLLM, 84 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: WiLLM. There was no firing at all, I tell you. Trian, I heard something about a duel ; but what you tell me is downright assassination — A custom, as we read in the geographical gram- mar, prevalent only in Italy. WiLLM. I know no more of Italy than the pope of Home; but this I do know, that if it hadn't been forGregory's carelessness, theyoung woman might ha' been kilTd, and the crowner must have brought it in 7;zfi^/2slaughter. Trian. I shall never be able to construe his meaning till I have ask'd the question w^ho or what — Do you know any thing of a duel that may, might, wou'd, cou'd or shou'd take place between certain persons in this vicinity? WiLL:\f. Vicinity ! No, nor in the neighbour- hood neither. Triax. I heard that vou had taken a dial- lenge from Sir Harry Pointer to ^Ir. Charles Balance, and that Edmond Rigid is to be his second on the occasion. WiLLM. What, my young master going to be shot, and I stand talking to you ! — I'll find him if he's above ground ; and if any body offers to take aim at a single button of his waistcoat, I'll break every bone in his body, if it's only to prevent mischief ! [Exit. Thian. I wish I knew the truth of this aff'air — at present, it stands like a sum in Fositioriy 7 where A C O M E D Y. 85 where by false numbers we discover true onesJ *— for example — E?itcr Mrs. Balance. Let me ^^^—[jnwiinating.'] Mrs. B. Mr. Triangle, have you heard where my husband is } Triax. I was just going to put the question. Mrs. B. His good nature leads him into such a number of errors. Trian. [abstractedly.'] Place each error against its respective position, and multiply them cross-wise. Mrs. B. Nonsense ! Triax. Nonsense! it's the art of discovering truth by falsehood : — for instance — suppose one wants to know another's age — Says 7F, Fm forty — says /, I'm as old as IF, and half as old as U *— says U, I'm as old as both of you put together. Mrs. B. Sir, I say, it is no such thing. Do you mean to affront me ? Triax. Me! I'm as innocent as Joseph Andrews, ^Irs. B. Then, do you know where my hus- band is? Triax. I believe VT'illiam said he was at the Major's. ^Irs. Balaxce. Then, why didn't you say so before ? Thcv have been fri[iht'nin2: me about his havino- a duel with lord Risid, and VGli, 8(5 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: you, instead of giving a direct answer to my question, are asking mv age indeed ! Trian. Oh, that was only a question in arithmetic. There's twenty s-uch in our school books — As thus — A man met a girl carrying poultry, and, says he — Enter Nancv. ah, my pretty maid, where are yau going with your twenty chickens ? Na X c V. Twenty chickens ! %/ Triax. But, suppose you had as many more, half as many more, and fiye besides Mrs. B. Don't mind that man ; he's mad, child. Xaxcy. La, Tila'am ! I beg pardon ; but I came to look for oar Vv'illiam. I'm flurried out of my wits, for they will have it he's o'one to light vrith young master about the Major's daughter. Mrs. B. Then it's my Son Charles, after all, who, I dare say, is to fight with his lordship ! da, pray, dear ]\lr. Triangle, run and see into the truth of this, and bring us word at the Major's. Triax. I will, I'll run like a new novel full of horrid ideas. Naxcv. And, pray, now, see after our 'William. Mrs.B. And don't come away without Charles upon any account. Naxcy. A C O M E D Y. 87 Nancy. And, tell William if he must fight, I think he might find some folks as well worth quarrelling for as the Majors daughter, though she has — — Mrs. B. Silence, minx 1 And tell Charles to remember, he has xclunteer'd to fight to pre serve the laws of the country ; and he must be a deserter from the cause, if, by engaging in a duel, he dares to fight against them. [Exit, Nancy. And tell William, if any thing hap- pens to him, I shall be so angry, that I . . I , . I shall break mv heart, that's what I shall. [Enit, xvhimperijig. Trian. I wish some one wou'd tell me where these gentlemen are to be found — Report men- tioned the North ^Meadow — perhaps, by going the direct contrary road, I may chance to fall in with them. I never saw a duel in my life ; but 1 suppose they are all alike, if it's only from their natural absurdity. \Exit. SCENE II. — a LaudscapQ. Enter Charles and Edmond. Charles. I am soriy we were a second tim.e interrupted ; — It appears by this mad baronet's note, that, after my departure, he drank more, M'ine, quareird with your father once, and meet- ing him again, his lordship's passion so far over- cam 6 8S GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: came liiin, that he condescended to give a blow ; unless Sir Harry, who has asked me here, as his second, will accept an apology, the case is desperate. Edmond. And I knov/ my father too well to hope for concession on his side. — I have, how- evtr, sent him a m.essage to create some delay, — and this being the exact time of the meeting, I have, perhaps, succeeded. Charles. Here comes Sir Harry — you had better walk aside, while I first try whether there is no remedy. Edmond. Be quick then ; for it must be set- tled one way or other, before his lordship comes. I liave the Major's pistol here, which, in case of the worst, will be better cm ploy *d in defending my own father, than in being opposed to the parent of my wife, [goes up the stage] Charles, [lookhig out] Bless me, the baronet looks plaguy furious I Enter Sir Harry. Well, Sir, I have repaired to the spot you named, in hopes to see your quarrel end in honorable reconciliation. Sir Harry, {xvith much agitation] I am afraid not, my feelings are very much hurt -—every man lias feelings, Mr. Balance,. I am extremely obliged by your coming, tho' his lordship has since sent me word he brings no second ; but y(ni can act as a common friend, we shall have waim work, I dare say. Who's A C O M E b Y. 89 that gentleman ? a surgeon perhaps, — that's pro- per and considerate — every thing that's proper Ought to be done on such an occasion ; and tho' I am called an unpolished clown, I shall bridle my passion, walk Over the course with all ima- ginable politeness, and take as good aim as I possibly can. Charles. You speak. Sir, like a man of judgment and precision. SirHARur. Yes; I have calculated all the odds, provided against every thing, and sliou'd there be a necessity foteithcr of us to escape, mv black horse Charon will carry io tlic v.orlds end. Charles. Bu'\:, Sir Harry — Sir Harry. One word n.iore— In requital of your double service to Sophia and myself, in this packet I have bequeathed you m.y two best hunters, with directions that my sister and tl:e rest of my stud may be taken proper care of. Charles. And, now Sir, permit me to in- troduce the s:entleman you take for a surofeon— > Sir Harry Pointer, this is the honourable Sir Harrv. Mr. Wilson ! the very man who !5avcd me from gamesters, and preserved the only independence v.hich, in that paper, I have beeii able to leave my sister. Ed.moxd. If you conceive yourself indebted to mc, you have ample means to acquit your- self, and impress me with an obligation of the hist consequence. N Sir 90 GUILTY oil NOT GUILTY: ' Sir Harry. IF there is a thing on earth, I can do, comnuind n:e. Edmond. You expect lord Ilii>;id here on a serious appointment — I liave tlie lionour to be much interested for him ; obhL;e me, tlR^refore, as a man and a friend, by endeavouring' to settle this affair. Sir 11a RRV. It shall be settled the moment he comes, [produces pistols] Here are the ponies that are to start; they are small but compact, and when once they i^'o off, I'd match 'em for speed with the fij'st racers in l^ig-land. Edmond. ^^'c haye no time for levity, Sir. You profess'd I might command you— I do be- seech you, most earnestly, if his lordship shews the least inclination that you will be reconciled to him. Sir Harry. That is the only thinir in the world I wou'd refuse you. CiiARLKS. But Avhy so inyeterate? Sir Ha rry. Sir, I haye receiyed a blow , m hich fell with double weight, because the man who gave it, calls me his inferior. Edmond. ^^'ill not provocation on your part extenuate the offence - Sir Harry. I had taken my wine to ])e sure ; but, ignorant as I am, I know that such a situa- tion degraded me, more tlian any language of mine cou'd injure his lordship. Tor the words of a drunken man leave nobodv but himself the worse for tlicm. -*- ClIAULtb. A C O M E D Y. 01 Charles. Well, but as you own to intempe- rate language — Sir Harry. His lordship should have waited till I had sober sense enough to plead guilty — An Kn[:.lish eonstitution vrould no more punish a man before trial, than I shou'd demand the King's plate without a race, tho' I'm sure Fve a mare tha.t's able to win it. Edmoxi). And how candour lips venture to profane tlie name of an English constitution, when vou are in the verv act of violating its most sacred obligations ? Besides, when mc may have to oppose cm enemy — we should iind other marks for practice than the bosoms of our friend^. Sir Harry. Well, you may leave talking, for yonder comes his lordship— I have kept him Avaiting, and it will be respectful in me to meet him. Edmoxd. Eespect for the man you mean to murder ! Sir Harry. Psha ! stand out of the way. Edmoxd. Xot a step, Sir — and, sooner than vou shall proceed. Ell venture th\s,l she:ci?2g the ^Major's pistol] which was given me by a man of honour, even aQ-ainst vour favourites, Sir Harry. There — he stops a man on the Kino-"s hio-hwav, and then talks of the laws of his country. Edmoxd. I am, at present, arm'd in their cle- Jence, the genuhie cause of honour ! which no true Briton will desei^t with life. X 2 Sir §9, GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: SirHARRY. Nav, don't be ill natur'd : but if we must pop at one another, let us exchange weapons, and do it like gentlemen. Edmond. [gives lets pistol] you may take ixine, Sir; but I ^\ ish no exchange— come, come — you must, and shall listen to reason. Enter Lord Rigid. Lord Rigid. My Son ! Sir Harry. His Son ! Lord Rigid. Edmond, M'hat brought you here ? Edmond. ]My duty, Sir; of whicli you must permit me to convince this gentleman. Lord Rigid. Impossible 1 I am surprised and pleased \vith this proof of vour afifection, but must beg to stand my own ground. Charles. Sir Harry will, I am sure, render this friendly contest unnecessary. Sir Harry. When folks come to fight, friendly c'jn tests are out of the {juc'tion. Lord III G ID. Then, take your place, Sir — I give the blow, and have a right to abide by the conse(juence, come, Sir ! Edmond. Hold, Sir! I shall not quit my post, and if the injuiy you liave received w ill justify your aiming at the father through the heart of liis bon, take \oux revenu'C, and fiie ! Enter ^♦'iHiam hastily. V/iLi.Tvi. Dont offer to liri*, for the love of peace and quietness ! Charles, A C O M E D Y. 93 Charles. William, how dare vou ! — do voii not tremble for your irrproper conduct ? WiLLM. Yes, Sir, I do tremble at your impro- per conduct; and with all due respect I shall act the part of a quiet subject, and knock any gentle- man down that makes Game of his own kind, by going a man-shooting. Sir Harry, [present'nig his pisfoPj Sirrah, do you see this ? [William louks close at 'it\ WiLLM. Yes, Sir; and I believe here's the fel- low to it. Saheww^ the oihtf\ And if old Gre- gory has charged the one as well as the other, ril stand fire as long as you please — Ho^vdidyoa get him, Sir ? Edmoxd. From me — 1 received it as proper for the purpose of a similar meeting. Wi LLM. Yes, Sir — and it would be proper if such were alwavs used ^\hen friends fall out ; for neither of these have swallowed an ounce of lead these six weeks. Lord Rigid. Xot loaded ! Sir Harry. Indeed I 1 don't vronder atyour Sleeping your post. E D :\i o X D . Sir, y ou m u st be a v\'are — Sir Harry. Sir, y^u must be aware that re- port says you always ol)jected to face a bullet, and that it was fear to fight a duel v. hich made you quit the army. Edmoxd. Yes, Sir — it was. I hold no lives inore sacred than those engaged to serve their countrv's f)4 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: country's cause, and I did fear to lose mine in the base attempt to lessen the number of our brave defenders. WiLLM. ril take my oath before his Morship, that nobody but Gregory and I Icneu' a Mord about the pistol. Sir Hauiiy. Ay, ay, you came in at your proper cue, I warrant ; but TU have satisfaction of my lord yet — And you, Sir, {to Charlesj •may depend on't that my sister shall never marry a man who would stand by, as a second, and see his friend fight with an empty pistol. {Exit. Edmond. For Heaven's sake, Charles, follow, * and convince him. His lordsliip and I will wait you at the Hermitage. WiT.LM. Xay, Sir; but I were bid to tell von, that your wife and her father are waiting for you at t' ^Major's. CiiAiu.r.s. At tlie ?>Iair;r's then I'll meet vou. Out of my siu.ht, Sir! [/o A^'illiam] To vour ofiicious impertiiunee \\c owe the Mholc of this embarrassment. [/JjvV. M'tj.i.^i. VsW\, ni not go far; for if folks are so ])higuy aui^ry because the y cou'dn't do one another niivchief, there's no knowing what tliev mav be atr.ext. [Exit. Lord Jli(.ii). Ldmond, even this defence of r\^\ life requires some explanation. i'lD>io\D. If, Sir, y(Mi mouM condefcend to accompany me to the ^Major's, you shall be in- ibrmed A COM ED Y. 95 formed from witnesses, ^vhosc testimony, for or asfainst me, v/ill have more weio'ht than mine. Lord Rigid. Your own wou'd be sufficient, cou'd I but hope to find you innocent in what regards my lady Rigid, v.'iio has never yet cleared an that — Enter Triangle and Sopliia. Trian. There, Madam — I promised to ^mA. out the place for yon; but hadn't we met Sir Harry to direct us, I beiic\c we might as well liave looked ibr ghosts in (lil Bias, or politeness in parson Trulliber. Sophia. 3.1y Lord, I am desired by lady Rii^'id to Ijc"- yon will see her instantly — -Before the fatal efiect of what she tr.nnbles to hear you are engaged in may prevent lier: she wishes to impart something most material to herself, to you, and to that gentleman. Lord Rigid. The meeting Mdiich causes her alarm has terminated without misfortune, and I shall most willingly listen to any thing: in his favour. Ldmoxd. ^Lay I accompany you? Lord Rigid. You had better relieve the ap- prehensions of the Major and his family, for 3'our safety, since it appears this circumstance has found its way through the whole village already. You shall there soon hear from me. [Exit. Sophia, [going, returns] Wasn't Mr, Charles Balance engaged in this afiuir? Edmovd. 96 GUILTY OR XOT GUILTY: Edmon'd. He is perfectly safe, and will be as perfectly happy when he hears of the interest you so kindly take in his welfare. Sophia. But, pray don't tell him that I made any particular inquir}^ [E.rit. Edmond. I shall, you may depend on it. [Ea^it. Trian. Well, I came to see a duel; but there seems no sign of any engagement havinij taken place. jE///er William and Nancv. WiLLM. Oh, but there has — here's Xancy, like t'other fine lady, cou'dn't rest till she came to see after her sweetheart ; and so I've made an engagem.ent that when we arc married Til Iki* nought to do wi' fighting, Arithout she makes one of the party. Triax. There's nothing improper in thaL So you are about to become Mrs. Wallflower in good earnest. [To Nancy.] Nancy. There's nothing improper in ^/^^/, ]•« there Mr. Triangle? Triax. Oil, no; you'll have a nursery full of blooming young Wallflowers, and, when old enough to be transplanted, send them to flourish under my cultivation. WiLLM. You shall teach tlic boys to (]o every thing, but fight like genllemen ; though ril freely give 'em leave to poj) at a partridge by the side of a friend, or look into the mouth of a cannon in the teeth of an enemy. Nancy. A C O M E D Y. 97 Nancy. Tliey sha"n't ])e taiig;ht anv such tricks; and if ever I catch one of 'em lookinsr into tiiC mouth of a cannon, Til — wl)y, what do you laugh at? For shame, William ! Triax. I see you can reckon 3^our chickens, though a little while ago you wou'dn't let m^ do it. WiLLM. Never mind, lass — I only say, that if gunpowder must be in fashion, my boys shall learn to make a ])roper use of it. Triax. Ay, ay ; only send "em to my school, and I'll "teach tlieir youns,' ideas hov/ to shoot '' I w arrant you. \E.ieunt. SCENE III.~The Major's. Ente?' Balance, Mrs. Balance, the ^lajor, Suzettey Charles, and Sir Harry. Charles. I am sorry you have been kept in so painful a suspence. Your husband is safe, Suzette : and it materially concerns him and you, ^iajor, to vouch to Sir Harry, that the pistol you gave Edmond was unloaded. Major. Doyoumean to infinuate that a ve- teran wou'd go to the field without amunition? [7'i?igs a bell. . Sir Harry. I shou'd as soon think of riding without spurs. -E/7/er Gregory, out of livery, zcith a pipe in his Wtouth, Major. Who loaded my piftols yesterday? O Gregory, OS GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: Gregory. Your man. Major. Well Sir ! and are not 3/02/ — Gregory. I once was ; but now I smoke mr pipe in the chimney corner, as you bade me. And if I r//W forget to charge the pistols, it belongs not to the gentleman you have juft made me, to answer for the faults of your servant Gregory. Sir Harry, [to the Major.] Why then, Mr. Wilson, as he chose to call himself, did not know that the pistol you gave him was without a ball. Major. Who the devil's Mr. Wilson? Charles. He means Edmond Rigid, Sir. M.ajor. Aye the reprobate who married — SuzETTE. No, my dear father, indeed you are mistaken, we only bought the house of that unfortunate man. Sir Harry. Well, here he comes to tell ^vho he is himself. Enter Edmond. Edmoxd. Suzette, I ha\e juft heard how narrow an escape you have had. Sir Harry. And I have learn'd that I have been mistaken in suspecting you, fur which I ask your pardon. Edmond. Sir, it is thus mistake has ever been my enemy. Enter Lord Rigid. Lord. Rigid. Edmond, I have in vain sought lady Rigid where she appointed — and have in- truded here in hopes — 7 Major. A C O M E D Y. 99 Major. My lord, I'm glad to see you, and, when some things are explained, may perhaps shake your son hy the hand— don't be surpris'd, young man, I can't help it, because th^ gni you have seduced would otherwise be miserable. Edmomd. Sazette has been too long so, and 'tis time to prove a secret marriage was her oidy crime. AIajor. a secret marriage ! was she not carried off by hired scoundrels, and didn't she return and tell me she was rescued by a stranger ? Edmoxd. / was that stranger, who for the fnst time saw and saved her — the villain and his minions disappeared, and the blame of all rested of course on me. SuzETTE. And was you the man I have been taui^'ht to fear 1 Ah, Edmond, m hv liave you deceived me ? Edmoxd. Yes, I am he to whom you oft have said that death vrere better than any uniqn with him you little tliouglit you tb;en conversed with— Sir, had your daughter known me, that secret marriage never had taken place, for which you banished her. I brought her back, pretend- ing to liave bought the Hermitage — for this imposture, which a hard world's injustice put me on, I do beseech her pardon, though in assert- ing I was not a reprobate, I never used deceit. Eord Rigid. Your not marrying till a certain period, being the condition on which you held o '2 your 100 GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY: your estate, I can suppose your rcasou for a secret union ; but surely I— Edmoxd. Your lordship at that time liad forbad all intercourse. jMajor. Eut, zounds ! hadn't Za right to be informed, Suzette. SuzETTK. Gould I ruin him whose all de- pended on the secret? Major. You might have trusted me. Sl ZETTE. Indeed ! ^Iajor. Yes — IW have proclaimed it to the Avhole world Ilarkyc, run to the cluirch re- gister, scratch out that sj)i(kr'3 web, and tell Tvfr. Amen that for once he is outwitted. Gregory. V/ell, though I'm no servant I'll go on th:it euand, however. [Edit. Sir Harry, "l^'ell, but my good friend ! your estate did'nt depehd on your going by th.c name of Wilson ! Edmoxd. An assumed nam.e \sas necessary to foil, at tlitir own arts, the gamesters who iiad nearly ruined you, lience I was reckoned their associate. Ciiart.es. Vv'hcnce arose the false rcj)ort of Edmond's cowardice? Edmoxd. At college I beheld a scene of modern honour^ too dreadful to repeat, but whicU resolved me never to be a duellist; and hci\ . answtMcd for t!ie fault of one who else would have ])cen ruin'd — / was expelled, my com- panions a[)plaudcd me, and kept the secret. Afterwards. A COM E D-Y. 101 Afterwards, at camp, a headstroug youth ask'd satisfaction for an insult given by himself, I answered with mv cane, and left the army. rilAjoR. Enough! you attacked your /i2//ze?' with a siiord. Lord Rigid. Xo, Sir— and yet that day of niysteiy — Ebmoxd. Lives in mv m.emorv ever — Sir, that day has cost me nights of sleepless misery, or if the weight of sorrow closed my eyes, in fancy I beheld the hateful scene, then waked and walked abroad to meet the glance of pity or contempt, from those who wain'd their chil- dren, as I pass'd, to shun the Reprobate — all were HiV enemies, and but for these [tak'uio; a hand of Charles and Suzette] this world had still remained a blank to E if acknowledoment of error may entitle us to plead for pardon, on such a claim will we venture to indulge a hope of general forgiveness ; for my own part I shall rejoicesincerely if the mistaken light, in which I have been view'd, may induce my friends in future to censure with indulgence, and pause ere thev condemn. EXD OF THE COMEDY. E P I L O G U E, WllTTTEN RY THE AUTHOR OF THE COMEDY, AND SPuKEN 1>Y XiR. ELLISTON, 1\ Til E CII Alt ACTER OF A COUNSELLOR. MV Ladies, Luds, aiid Gem'men of the Jury, This cause is no: yet tiiiish'd, I absure ye: Counsellor Critical, who thinks with nic, Moves to shew cause against the Author's plea: For we can prove, and that with ease, before ve, These scenes are stolen from a well-known story; And all the sorrows you heard me relate, In ev'r}- sentence mark thr Reprobate, \Mio for low characters has searched each iiovel, And taken t/ii.s here Play from t/icif there Xoveh If every Scribbler thus his subject chuse*, They'll act next in the Tenipk of the Muses : P^astward may all Dramatic folks repair, And Coxcnt tiarden quit for Tinsburij Square. While the jMineria PresSj with equal gain, At Leadenhall, will rival Prunj Lane. Besides — this Muse, you must to prison send her ; I've exiJence that she's an old offender. And first I call, her wicked pranks to show, A very worthy Jew — Abednego! Come into Court. " V'el, vat you vant mit me? " I '11 shwear de truth, vatever it may be." *' You know this Poet r" " Know him ! I'll engage " He's a great ro^ue — he brouiiht me on dt Slasie " Against ma vill, along mit an old doctor, " x\nd a young shinnale; in a bed-room lockt her " Alone uiit me — I, that have got a vife, " And never did such things in all ma life. " I told 'cm plain enough, ven all vas done, " I'd take de law ii-top of every von; *' I'll EPILOGUE. 107 ** I'll have such damages ! — But shtop a Lit — " Vere vill it come from, all vat I shall get ? " Poor poets pockets are so long in filling, " Dey hardly knows a guinea from a shilling. ** And tho' they write so fine, and talk so big — • *' I venders how his worship sells his vig 1" " Where's Matthew iNIotto ?" — " Here, Sir, coram nob'is'' ^' You keep an inn ?" — " I do — sic non Tohis." •' Well, Sir, your evidence ; but take good heed, " We can't accept the JVill here /or the Deed. ** Your inn's at Oxford?" — " No, I beg your pardon, " Mv sign's cui bono, Sir, at Covent Garden. " Noli prosequi — I am come to sue " The prisoner." — " How did he injure you?" " How ? Snarifer in modo. Sir, he came " Last sine die, with sticks, staves, and flame : " My friends insulted; — and, Sir, I'm no joker, *' Burnt all their boxes with a red hot poker. " In short, in spite of all he may advance, " Behaved quite Honi soit qui mal y pense." " Call Peter Pullhaul !"— " 'Vast! my lads, belay? " I knows the lubber that has launch'd this Play ; ** And he'd palaver you, that he made me 1 *' Sail in a Cabinet to Italy, f " To serve a foreign Court, as if so be J " As how that you'd believe a British Tar " Would fly his colours, while his King's at war ! " No ! while old England calls us to our guns, " On sea or shore, ve, John Bulls, never runs. " And as for Frenchified great Lords, d'ye see, " Ve does'nt mind their Emperors, not ve." I cou'd, with many more my cause support, Of characters well known to all the Court : p2 , But, JOS EPILOGUE. But, Gem'rncn, I contend, unless some flaw Appear in the Indictment, law is — law, And evidence is strong, and fact is iact, And you, I need'nt tell you how to act. To prove liim guilty, I have done my part, If. trying to amuse you with his art; And beg most earnestly— I hope I'm right, He may appear agam another night. AVhen, since with your kind sanction we are greeted, ** GuiltY or Not," thie Play shall be repeated. 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