.LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. OIFTT OK IOTSOBADASESEEI; OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 21 (Eomebg in JTiue &cte, BY SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART. AS FIRST PERFORMED AT DEVONSHIRE HOUSE, IN THE PRESENCE OF HER MAJESTY AND HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THEEfifflfiEALBERT. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF STREET. 1851. HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE. K.G. (TJNIVEESITY) MY LORD DUKE, THIS Play is respectfully dedicated to your Grace in token of the earnest gratitude, both of Author and Performers, for the genial and noble sympathy which has befriended their exertions in the cause of their brotherhood. The debt that we can but feebly acknowledge, may those who come after us seek to repay ; and may each loftier Cultivator of Art and Letters, whom the Institution established under your auspices may shelter from care and penu- ry, see on its corner-stone your princely name, VI DEDICATION. and perpetuate to distant times the affection- ate homage it commands from ourselves. It is this hope that can alone render worthy the tribute which, in my own name as Author, and in the names of my companions the Per- formers, of the Play first represented at Devon- shire House, I now offer to your Grace, with every sentiment that can deepen and endear the respect and admiration With which I have the honor to be, My Lord Duke, Your Grace's most obedient and faithful servant, E. BULWEE LYTTOIST. May, 1851. DEAMATIS PEESON^E. THE DUKE OF MIDDLESEX, ) Peers attach- ) MR. FRANK STONE. THE EARL OF LOFTUS, $ ed to the Son ' MR. DUDLEY COSTELLO. of James //., commonly called the First Pretender. LORD WILMOT, a Young Man at the Head ) of the Mode more than a Century ago-, >MR. CHARLES DICKENS. Son to LORD LOFTUS . . . . ) MR. SHADOWLY SOFTHEAD, a Young Gen- ) tie man from the City, Friend and > MR. DOUGLAS JERROLD. Double to LORD WILMOT . . . > MR. HARDMAN, a Rising Member of Par- i liament, and Adherent to Sir Robert > MR. JOHN FORSTER. Walpole ...... > SIR GEOFFREY THORNSIDE, a Gentleman)*, \jf ir , v r. ru of Good Family and Estate . . \ MR ' MARK LEMON - MR. GOODKNOUGH EASY, in Business, ) Highly Respectable, and a Friend of\ MR. F. W. TOPHAM. SIR GEOFFREY ..... > LORD LE TRIMMER, ^ Frequenters of C MR - PETKR CUNNINGHAM. SIR THOMAS TIMID, ( WilCs Coffee < MR. WESTLAND MARSTON. COLONEL FLINT, ' House. ( MR R H HORNE. MR. JACOB TONSON, a Bookseller . . MR. CHARLES KNIGHT. SMART, Valet to LORD WILMOT . . MR. WILKIE COLLINS. HODGE, Servant to SIR GEOFFREY > M - TENNIFI THORNSIDE ...... j MR. Jo IENNIEL. PADDY O'SULLIVAN, Mr. Fallen's Landlord MR. ROBERT BELL. Orub street AMK r A T E LORD STRONGBOW, SIR JOHN BRUIN, COFFEE-HOUSE LOUNGERS, DRAWERS, NEWSMAN, WATCHMEN, &c., &a LDC TlioS^T to . S ' R . GK .JM.S.COMPTON. BARBARA, Daughter to MR. EASY . . Miss ELLEN CHAPLIN. THE SILENT LADY OF DEADMAN'S LANE. Date of Play. THE REIGN OF GEORGE I. Scene. LONDON. Time supposed to be occupied^ From the noon of the first day to the after' noon of the second. NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM; OE, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. ACT I. SCENE I. LORD WILMOT'S Apartment in St. James's. A Breakfast-table laid out. SMART (as he arranges the breakfast-table). JUST on the stroke of twelve, and my Lord not risen. He never wants sleep more than once a week, but when he does sleep, he sleeps as he does every thing else better than any man in the three king- doms. Well, he is a merry fine gentleman, to be sure ; so kind-hearted and generous ; but, lauk, if one judged by his words, and not by his actions, one would say he was the wickedest dog that Mum ! Enter LORD WILMOT, in his dressing-gown, from side-door. WILMOT (stretching himself). "And sleepless lovers just at twelve awake!" That little fellow Pope hits us off to a hair. Smart, my chocolate. Any duels to-day ? I forget 10 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. SMART (looking at his tablets). No, my Lord, no duels. Only three drums, four routs, five dinners, and six suppers. WILMOT. Is that all ? Dull day before me. Not worth get- ting up for. Smart, you have now lived with me six months ; pray, what do you think of me 2 Oh, my Lord, I think there's not another gentle- man in the world like your Lordship WILMOT (interrupting). Take care ! I discharged your predecessor for flat- tery ! Go on, and let me see how you get out of that dangerous exordium. SMART. Yes, my Lord ! not a gentleman like you for speak- ing ill of yourself and doing good to another. WILMOT. This knave has been bribed by my enemies to ruin my character. Doing good to another, you scandal- ous libeler ! Am I not renowned from Soho to the Mall as a headlong immovable reckless phlegm ati- cal true King of the Mode frigid as Diogenes the Cynic and fiery as Timour the Tartar ? Learn how the wits of our day represent, on the stage, a fine gentleman ; and beware how you disparage your master. [Seats himself. SMART (aside). What hard words he does give himself ! If hard words could break bones, I would not be in his skin for something. 80. I.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 11 WILMOT. What is this note ? The hand is unknown. Pshaw ! the hand of a woman ! It must wait with the rest. Ladies' letters don't cool man's chocolate does. (Eating.) The Frenchman implies that a good diges- tion is the sign of a bad heart. What a heart I must have ! Could digest an anvil ! SMART. I beg pardon, my Lord ; but that note was left by the lady herself. WILMOT (indifferently). Oh ! young and pretty, of course ! Heart not moved in the least ! Petrified ! SMART. She wore the mask ladies sometimes wear, when they go out alone ; but I don't think she was very young. She seemed in very great distress of mind, for when she gave me the letter, her hand trembled so, that WILMOT. Distress, you blockhead ; why the duse did not you say that before ? (Reads.) " I pray you, my Lord, to forgive this intrusion noticed your calling at the house of Sir Geoffrey Thornside [Ha!] seen you walking in the garden with Mistress Lucy, his daughter [Hum !] heard you had rescued that young lady from danger [What gossip !] many stories have reached me at- testing the honor of your character and the kindness of your heart [Stuff; where's my purse ?] venture with reluctance to entreat you would honor me with a visit ; you could render an inestimable service per- form a most benevolent action [Wonder if there's 12 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. eno' in the purse !] -for reasons I can not explain, would not wish your Lordship to be seen entering my house ; therefore, if you grant my request, any hour in the evening, after dusk beg your Lordship not to mention the contents of this letter to Sir Geoffrey his daughter to any one ; strictly confidential -for same reasons, can not give you my name must be con- tent with subjoining my address, Crown and Port- cullis* Deadmarts Lane " Deadman's Lane ! It must be a church-yard, and the writer a ghost! Smart, are you too lively to know a place on this earth or below it called Dead- man's Lane ? SMART. Yes, my Lord ; it is at the back of Sir Geoffrey Thornside's. (Knock.) Is your Lordship at home ? WILMOT. Yes ; see who it is. (Exit SMART.) Very strange letter ! in meaning mysterious in direction funereal. I will call ; were it only for the sweet name of Lucy that I kiss here in effigy ! Oh, that divine, innocent, charming Lucy ! Enter SMART. SMART. Mr. Shadowly Softhead. WILMOT. ' Softhead, my imitator, my double who cuts his cloth (his father's a clothier) according to the coat of a Lord ; and sets his puny constitution against my frame of a Hercules. The best little man in the * Numbers were not then assigned to houses, and some, not known by the names of their proprietors, retained their ancient signs. sc. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 13 world ! ambitious to be thought good for nothing ; upset by a wine-glass, and frightened out of his wits by a petticoat! (Enter SOFTHEAD.) Ha, Softhead ! my Py lades my second self! Animce SOFTHEAD. Enemy ! WILMOT. Dimidium mece. SOFTHEAD. Dimi! that's the oath last in fashion, I warrant. ( With a swagger and a slap on the back.) Dimidum mece, how d'ye do 1 WILMOT. But what a fellow you are ! Slunk off last night at the third bottle. I thought you were a stanch Bacchanalian. SOFTHEAD. So I am ! stanch to the bone. But I say, don't you sometimes feel rather qualmy the next morning ? queerish and headachy a sort of uppish, downish, all-overish Bacchanalian sensation ! WILMOT. I ? never ! 0, if you are capable of such vulgar in- firmities after a miserable third bottle or so, never think of living with us : we Lords of Misrule are all made of iron, like the man in Spenser's Fairy Queen. SOFTHEAD. And so am I iron ! Nothing ever ails me ! I only ask from curiosity I could have sate you all out ! but WILMOT. Ah, I take it, an assignation ! Softhead, you know you're a monster. 14 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. SOFTHEAD. A monster ! Are you a monster ? WILMOT. Ay, horrible. SOFTHEAD. Dimidum mece, and so am I ! WILMOT. As we grow seasoned, 'tis astonishing how much we require. Wine has now no effect upon me ! I think of taking to aqua-fortis. We'll have a bout of it some day. Aqua-fortis ! Vigorous fellows, like Sir John Bruin, Colonel Flint, Lord Strongbow, me, and your- self, could carry off a gallon apiece ! SOFTHEAD. Charming ! Excellent ! Aqua-fortis, I'm a dead man! WILMOT. As for women, they are duller than wine. A mere harmless gallantry has no longer a charm for me. SOFTHEAD. Nor for me either ! (Aside.) Never had. WILMOT. Nothing should excite us true men of pleasure but some colossal atrocity, to bring our necks within an inch of the gallows ! SOFTHEAD. He's a perfect demon ! Alas, I shall never come up to his mark ! Enter SMART. SMART. Mr. Hardman, my Lord. so. L] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 15 WILMOT. Hush ! Must not shock Mr. Hardman, the most friendly obliging man, and so clever will be a minister some day. But not one of our set. SOFTHEAD. Oh, I've often heard of Mr. Hardman. We visit at the same house ; the rising member of parliament ? WILMOT. Rising, yes ! Pray, what did he rise from ? Do you know his origin ? SOFTHEAD. No. WILMOT. He's like the Sibyl of Cuma. Knows all about every one ; and nobody knows aught about him. SOFTHEAD. Is that like a Sibyl of Cuma ? La ! there are plenty such Sibyls in London ! Enter HARDMAN. HARDMAN. And how fares my dear Lord ? WILMOT. Bravely and you ? Ah ! you men who live for others have a hard life of it. Let me present to you my friend, Mr. Shadowly Softhead. HARDMAN. The son of the great clothier who has such weight in the Guild ? I have heard of you from Mr. Easy 16 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. and others, though never so fortunate as to meet you before, Mr. Softhead. SOFTHEAD. Shadowly Softhead : my grandmother was one of the Shadowlys a genteel family that move about Court. She married a Softhead, WILMOT. A race much esteemed in the city. HARDMAN. Esteemed in the city ! The Softheads ? No race has more votes for it ! Your father's the head of that House ; a most valuable man ! Ah, my Lord ! these are critical times : we can't disguise from ourselves that the Jacobites are daring and numerous. Our great Prime Minister needs all the support he can get. You've no notion, Lord Wilmot, how Sir Robert Wai- pole esteems you. WILMOT. Indeed I have : just like myself! One always esteems a thing before one has bought it. HARDMAN. A sorry joke, Mr. Softhead IVe known him more witty. A new picture, my Lord ? I'm no very great judge but it seems to me quite a master-piece. WILMOT. IVe a passion for art. Sold off my stud to buy that picture. (Aside. And please my poor father.) 'Tis a Murillo. HARDMAN. A Murillo! you know that Walpole, too, has a passion for pictures. In despair at this moment that sc. ij OK, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 17 he can't find a Murillo to hang up in his gallery. If ever you want to corrupt the Prime Minister's virtue, you have only to say, " I have got a Murillo." WILMOT. Well, if, instead of the pictures, he'll just hang up the men he has bought, you may tell him he shall have my Murillo for nothing ! HARDMAN. Bought ! now really, my Lord, this is so vulgar a scandal against Sir Robert. Let me assure your Lord- ship WILMOT (earnestly). Nay, it needs not, dear Hard man ; the best proof of a Minister's merits is in the zeal and attachment of men like yourself. HARDMAN (affected). I thank you, my Lord. WILMOT. But prithee, dear Hardman, where left you your cloak? HA RDM AN. Cloak ? Outside the door. WILMOT. Then, outside with the cloak, leave my Lord and your Lordship. Plague on these titles among friends. My Lord with the world ; Wilmot with my comrades ; Frederick at my father's home ; and plain Fred in my bachelor's lodgings. SOFTHEAD. And 1 live to call a man Fred, who's called my 18 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. Lord by the world ! Oh, sir, you don't know my friend Fred as we do. Does he, Fred? [Hanging on WILMOT. WILMOT (looking down on him). Hum. I'm not sure that two diminutives go well together. But as for titles and all such tedious cere- monials, they die in the air that hallows these rooms to the freedom of youth, and the equality of friend- ship. And if the Duke of Middlesex himself com- monly styled "the Proud Duke" -who said to "his Duchess, when she astonished his dignity one day with a kiss, " Madam, my first wife was a Percy, and she never took such a liberty ; "* HARDMAN. Ha ! ha I well, if " the Proud Duke" WILMOT. Could deign to come here, we would say, " How d'ye do, my dear Middlesex !" SOFTHEAD. So we would, Fred ! Middlesex. Shouldn't you like to know a Duke, Mr. Hardman ? * This well-known anecdote of the Proud Duke of Som- erset, and some other recorded traits of the same eminent personage, have been freely applied to the character, in- tended to illustrate the humor of pride, in the comedy. None of our English memoirs afford, however, instances of that infirmity so extravagant as are to be found in the French. Tallamant has an anecdote of the celebrated Duchesse de Longueville, which enlivens the burlesque by a bull that no Irish imagination ever surpassed. A surgeon having prob- ably saved her life by bleeding her too suddenly and without sufficient ceremonial, the Duchesse said, on recovering her- self, that " he was an insolent fellow to have bled her in her presence" so. L] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 19 HARDMAN. I have known one or two in opposition ; and had rather too much of 'em. SOFTHEAD. Too much of a Duke ! La ! I could never have eno' of a Duke ! HARDMAN. You may live to think otherwise. But, my dear Wilmot, you will soon have occasion for that well-bred familiarity with which you threaten his Grace ; for, as I left Lockett's, I saw the Duke stepping into his car- riage and heard his lackeys order the coachman to drive to your lodgings, stopping first at Bygrave's the gunsmith (aside) who is suspected of selling arms to the malcontents. WILMOT. Ha ! The proud Duke ! HARDMAN (aside). And that's one reason why I came hither. I would know what mischief that Jacobite Duke is devising [Knock at the door. WILMOT. No, it will never do ! Smart, I say not at home ! (Running to the door) Confound it ! too late the Duke's in the hall ! HARDMAN. But you'll not be so absurd as to do what you boasted ! WILMOT. Not ! If a man with notions of honor not larger than would cover the point of a pin were to boast that he would put the Monument into his pocket why he 20 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. must pocket the Monument, or throw himself from the top of it. SMART. His Grace the Duke of Middlesex. Enter DUKE. DUKE. My Lord Wilmot, your most obedient servant. WILMOT. Now then, courage ! How d'ye do, my dear Mid- dlesex ? DUKE. " How d'ye do ?" " Middlesex !" Gracious heaven ! what will this age come to ? HARDMAN to SOFTHEAD. Well, it may be the fashion, yet I could hardly advise you to adopt it. SOFTHEAD. But if Fred HARDMAN. Oh ! certainly Fred is an excellent model SOFTHEAD. Yet, there's something very awful in a live Duke ! HARDMAN. Tut ! a mere mortal like ourselves, after all. SOFTHEAD. D'ye really think so ? upon your honor ? so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 21 HARDMAN. Sir, I am sure of it, upon my honor, a mortal ! DUKE (turning stiffly round, and half rising from his chair in majestic condescension. Your Lordship's friends ? A good-day to you, gen- tlemen ! SOFTHEAD. And a good-day to yourself. My Lord Du I mean, my dear boy ! Middlesex, how d'ye do 1 DUKE. Mid ! Boy ! sex ! dear ! my head is confused. I must be in a dream, certainly a hideous dream. And that small man is the nightmare ! He is coming this way ! Powers above ! SOFTHEAD. He looks rather puzzled. Taking snuff? Fred making signs ah, to put him up to it. I'll do so in Fred's own easy, elegant way ! You see, as Fred says, ceremonials and titles die in the youth of equality and the friendship of freedom ! No, that comes after- wards ! Prithee, dear Middlesex, where did you leave your cloak ? DUKE. Middlesex again! coupled, too, with such incon- gruous expressions ; equality ! freedom ! My Lord Wilmot, permit me to request of your Lordship to order your people to convey to a distance, remote from my person, that small man. SOFTHEAD. Small man ! HARDMAN (aside). . I enjoy this. 22 XOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; IACT j. WILMOT tO HARDMAN. Make him apologize to the Duke, then hurry him off into the next room. Allow me to explain to your Grace. SOFTHEAD to HARDMAN. But Fred himself HARDMAN. Fred himself is apologizing. Mark how he bows and cringes,- bow and cringe, too. SOFTHEAD. But what shall I say ? HARDMAN. Any thing most civil and servile. SOFTHEAD. I I my Lord Duke, I really most humbly en- treat your Grace's pardon, I DUKE. Small man, your pardon is granted, for your exist- ence is effaced. So far as my recognition is necessary to your sense of being, consider yourself henceforth annihilated ! SOFTHEAD. I humbly thank your Grace ! Annihilated ? what's that? HARDMAN. Duke's English for excused. (SOFTHEAD wants to get lack to the DUKE.) What ! have not you had enough of the Duke ? SOFTHEAD. No, now we've made it up. I never bear malice. sc. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 23 I should like to know more of him ; one can't get at a Duke every day. If he did call me " small man," he is a Duke, and such a remarkably fine one ! HARDMAN (drawing him away). You deserve to be haunted by him ! No no ! Come into the next room and talk of your father. He carries a great many votes, and Sir Robert shall deal with him for cloth and for any other commodity he may desire to vend to the Premier. [Exeunt through side-door. SOFTHEAD very reluctant to leave the DUKE. DUKE. There's something portentous in that small man's audacity. Quite an aberration of Nature ! Such things do happen in critical eras of the world, like the present.^Fie, my Lord, how can you associate with such a very small man ! But we are alone now, we two gentlemen. Your father is my friend, and his son must have courage and honor. WILMOT. Faith, I had the courage to say I would call your Grace " Middlesex," and the honor to keep my word. So I've given good proof that I've courage and honor enough for any thing ! DUKE (a fee tiona tely) . You're a wild boy. You have levities and follies. But alas ! even rank does not exempt its possessor from the faults of humanity. Very strange ! My own dead brother (with a look of disgust). WILMOT. Your brother, Lord Henry de Mowbray ? My dear Duke, pray forgive me ; but I hope there's no truth in what Tonson, the bookseller, told me at Will's 24 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. that your brother had left behind, certain Confessions or Memoirs, which are all that might be apprehended from a man of a temper so cynical, and whose success in the gay world was so terrible. (Aside. Deter- mined seducer and implacable cut-throat !) DUKE. Ha ! then those Memoirs exist ! My brother kept his profligate threat. I shall be ridiculed, lampooned. I, the head of the Mowbrays ! Powers above, is no- thing on earth, then, left sacred ! My Lord, I thank you sincerely. Can } 7 ou learn in whose hands is this scandalous record ? WILMOT. I will try. And I hope some honest man has got hold of it, for Tonson told me he could not yet in- duce him to sell it. You would wish it suppressed ? DUKE. Suppressed ! In the bottomless pit ! WILMOT. And would buy it yourself ? DUKE. Myself! No. I would mortgage the Castle of Mowbray to save my name from the jests of a ribald, that ribald, my kinsman ! But to buy, myself, what was meant to expose me , men would say the Duke of Middlesex feared WILMOT. Leave it to me. I know Lord Henry bore you a grudge for renouncing his connection, on account of his faults of humanity ! His wit might not spare you ; so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 25 nor even what is more sacred, the sex on which his life was one war. I remember an anecdote how he fought with a husband, some poor devil named Mor- land, for a boast in a tavern, which Oh, but we'll not speak of that. We must get the Memoir. We gentlemen have all common cause here. Woman's name and man's hearth. DUKE (taking his hand). Worthy son of your father. You deserve, indeed, the trust that I come to confide to you. Drop this shameful digression. I have need of all my composure you, of all your attention. WILMOT. What's coming, I wonder. DUKE (taking snuff). There is a Hanoverian gentleman of very good family, in his own country, but a perfect stranger to me George Guelph. Certain persons who call them- selves the People but who, strange to say, did not do me the honor to ask my opinion have placed this gentleman on the throne of our lawful sovereign, James the Third. TVILMOT. Hush, Duke, hush ! This confidence is really so dangerous ! DUKE. Dangerous, what one man of honor confides to an- other ! Your interruption is unseemly. To proceed : his Majesty, King James, having been deceived by vague promises in the Expedition of 'Fifteen, has very properly refused to imperil his rights again, unless upon the positive pledge of a sufficient number of per- sons of influence, to risk life and all in his service. 26 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. Myself and some others, not wholly unknown to you, propose to join in a pledge which our King with such reason exacts. Your assistance, my Lord, would be valuable, for you are the idol of the young. Doubts were entertained of your loyalty. I have come to dispel them a word will suffice. If we succeed, you restore the son of a Stuart; if we fail, you will go to the scaffold by the side of John Duke of Middlesex ! Can you hesitate ; or, is silence assent ? WILMOT. Assent to surrender my country to the sword and the flames of civil war for a cause that is hopeless ! Hopeless ! But I can not stoop to argue 'tis eno' for a man like me to invite. Does your Lordship re- fuse my invitation ? WILMOT. My dear Duke, forgive me that I dismiss with a jest a subject so fatal, if gravely entertained. I have so many other engagements at present that, just to rec- ollect them, I must keep my head on my shoulders. Accept my humblest excuses. DUKE. Accept mine for mistaking the son of Lord Loftus. I have the honor to wish your Lordship good-day. WILMOT. Lord Loftus again ! Stay. Your Grace spoke of persons not wholly unknown to me. I entreat you to explain. DUKE. My Lord, I have trusted you with my own life ; but to compromise by a word the life of another, permit BC. I.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 27 me once more to repeat to your Lordship that I am John Duke of Middlesex. [Exit. WILMOT. Go thy ways for the most prejudiced piece of ab- surdity and bombast, valor and honor, that ever shook a plot from the curls of a periwig, or drew a court sword against the march of a nation. But can he allude to my father ? Nay, scarcely ; my father would surely have hinted to me if still, Fm uneasy. How shall I find out ? Ha ! Hardman. Hardman, I say ! Here's a man who finds every thing out. Enter HARDMAN and SOFTHEAD. Softhead, continue annihilated for the next five minutes or so. These books will help to the cessation of your existence mental and bodily. Mr. Locke, on the Understanding, will show that you have not an innate idea; and the Essay of Bishop Berkely will prove you have not an atom of matter. SOFTHEAD. But WILMOT. No buts ! they're the fashion. SOFTHEAD. Oh, if they're the fashion [Seats himself at the further end of the room ; com- mences vigorously with Berkely and Locke, first one and then the other, and after convincing him- self that they are above his comprehension, grad- ually subsides from despair into dozing. WILMOT to HARDMAN. My dear Hardman, you are the only one of my 28 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. friends, whom, in spite of your politics, my high Tory father condescends to approve of. HARDMAN (smiling). Why, there are many sides to a character ; WILMOT. A favorite saying of mine, too : HARDMAN. And if I have a talent it is that of finding the right one. WILMOT. Ah ! talk to my poor father of me ; and you are on his blind side in a moment. HARDMAN. In truth, he has shown that I have his esteem. First, by asking me to lecture his son ; Secondly, by forgiving the ill-success of the lectures. Why, look you, this life ! it is such a sunny, glorious thing ! It does so leap and sparkle in my veins that I can not walk the thoroughfares of quiet men with their sober footstep. Yet, dear as existence, thus joy- ous, is, I would fling it from me as lightly as 1 toss this glove, to save that sober, preaching father of mine from a single peril ! HARDMAN (aside). I could almost love this man, if he would let me. Why do you so often belie yourself, by seeming worse than you are ? WILMOT. Why, don't you think that rogues who pretend to sc. ij OB, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 29 be honest, have had their day long eno' ? and if we honest folks set up a counter-hypocrisy, and pretend to be rogues, 'gad, we may drive the other fellows out of the fashion ! But to come back to my father, every one knows that his family were stout cavaliers, attached to the Stuarts. HARDMAN. (Aside. Ah ! I guess why the Jacobite Duke has been here. I must look up David Fallen ; he is in all the schemes for the Stuarts.) Well and And, as you said very justly, the Jacobites are daring and numerous ; and, in short, I should just like to know that my father views things with the eyes of our more wise generation. HARDMAN. Why not ask him yourself? WILMOT. Alas ! I'm in disgrace ; he even begs me not to come to his house. You see he wants me to marry. Just like fathers ! Ever since Agamemnon set them the bad example of sacrificing Iphigenia for a favor- able breeze, they never think they've a chance of smooth sailing till they've bound us tight to the horns of the altar ! HARDMAN. But your father bade me tell you, he would leave your choice to yourself ; would marriage then seem so dreadful a sacrifice ? WILMOT. Sacrifice! Leave my choice to myself? My dear 30 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. Father! (Rings the hand-bell.) Smart! (Enter SMART.) Order my coach. HARDMAN. This impatience looks very like love. WILMOT. Pooh ! what do you know about love ? you, who love only ambition ! Solemn old jilt, with whom one's never safe from a rival. HARDMAN. Yes ; always safe from a rival both in love and ambition, if one will watch to detect, and then scheme to destroy him. WILMOT. Destroy ruthless exterminator ! May we never be rivals ! Pray keep to ambition. [Retires to complete his dress. HARDMAN (aside). But ambition lures me to love. This fair Lucy Thornside, as rich as she's fair ! Woe indeed to the man who shall be my rival with her. I will call there to-day. WILMOT. Then, you'll see rny father, and sound him ? HARDMAN. I will do so. WILMOT. You are the best friend I have. If ever I can serve you in return HARDMAN. Tut ; in serving my friends, 'tis myself that I serve. [Exit. so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 31 WILMOT (after a moment' 1 s thought). Pooh ! there can be no danger. IVe been hearing of plots ever since I was born, but nothing ever comes of them ; and if I learn from Hardman that my father meditates the innocent amusement of blowing up the country I'll turn steady myself and shame him out of such pranks ! Now to Lucy. Ha ! Soft- head. SOFTHEAD (waking Up). Heh! WILMOT (aside). I must put this suspicious Sir Geoffrey on a wrong scent. If Softhead were to make love to the girl violently desperately. SOFTHEAD (yawning). I would give the world to be tucked up in bed now ! WILMOT. By Pluto and Hecate the man's actually yawning ! SOFTHEAD. Is there any harm in that ? WILMOT. IVe a project an intrigue be all life and all fire ! Why, you tremble SOFTHEAD. With excitement. Proceed ! WILMOT. There's a certain snarling suspicious Sir Geoffrey Thornside, with a beautiful daughter, to whom he is a sort of a one-sided bear of a father all growl and no hug. 32 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT i. SOFTHEAD. I know him ! WILMOT. You. How? SOFTHEAD. Why, his most intimate friend is Mr. Goodenougli Easy. WILMOT. Lucy presented me to a Mistress Barbara Easy. Pretty girl ! SOFTHEAD. You are not courting her ? WILMOT. Not at present. Are you 1 SOFTHEAD. Why, my father wants me to marry her. WILMOT. They are all alike these fathers ! That vile Aga- memnon ! You refused ? SOFTHEAD No. I did not. WILMOT. Had she that impertinence ? SOFTHEAD. No ; but her father had. He wished for it once ; but since I've become a man d-la-mode, and made a sensation at St. James's, he says that his daughter shall be courted no more by such a fine gentleman. Oh! he's low, Mr. Easy; very good-humored and hearty, but respectable, sober, and square-toed ; de- cidedly low ! City bred 1 So I can't go much to his house ; but I see Barbara sometimes at Sir Geoffrey's, so. i.] OB, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 38 WILMOT. Excellent ! Listen : I am bent upon adding Lucy Thornside to the list of my conquests. SOFTHEAD. But WILMOT. But how did I know her ? I'll tell you. Between Hyde Park and Mayfair, there lie certain savage re- cesses, which in some distant age may be brought into fashion, but which now are frequented occasionally by snipes and habitually by footpads. About a week since, I chanced to be passing those desolate wilds when I heard female cries, ran to the spot, found two ruffians had stopped a sedan and dragged forth a young lady. Your stout heart conjectures the rest : a blow to the one and a kick to the other, and I bear off the prettiest trembler that ever leant on the arm of knight-errant, escorted her home, called thrice since that fortunate hour, and my angel's name, among mortals, is Lucy Thornside. SOFTHEAD. But I don't as yet see how I WILMOT. You are so hot and impatient ! Let me speak : her churl of a father has already given me to understand that he hates a lord SOFTHEAD. Hates a lord ! Can such men be ? WILMOT. And despises a man d-la-mode. 34 KOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT I. SOFTHEAD. I knew he was eccentric, but this is downright in- sanity. WILMOT. Brief. I see very well that he'll soon shut his doors in my face, unless I make him believe that it is not his daughter who attracts me to his house ; so I tell you what we will do ; You shall make love to Lucy violent love, you rogue. SOFTHEAD. But Sir Geoffrey knows I'm in love with the other. WILMOT. That's over. Father refused you transfer of affec- tion ; natural pique and human inconstancy. And, in return, to oblige you, I'll make love just as violent to Mistress Barbara Easy. SOFTHEAD. Stop, stop ; I don't see the necessity of that. WILMOT. Pooh ! nothing more clear. Having thus duped the two lookers-on, we shall have ample opportunity to change partners, and hands across, then down the middle and up again. {Enter SMART. SMART. Your coach waits, my Lord. WILMOT. Come along. Fie ! that's not the way to conduct a cane. Has not Mr. Pope, our great poet of fashion, given you the nicest instructions in that art ? sc. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 35 " Sir Plume, of amber snuft'-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane." The cane does not conduct you ; you conduct the cane. Thus, with a debonnair swing. Now, t'other hand on your haunch; easy, degage impudently graceful ; with the air of a gentleman, and the heart of a monster ! Allans ! Vive la joie. SOFTHEAD. Vive la jaw, indeed. I feel as if I were going to be hanged. Allons ! Vive la jaw ! [Exeunt. END OF ACT I. 36 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM; [ACT 11. ACT II. SCENE I. Library in the House of SIR GEOFFREY THORNSIDE. At the back a large Window opening nearly to the ground. Side- door to an adjoining room. Style of decoration, that intro- duced from the Dutch in the reign of William III. (old- fashioned, therefore, at the date assigned to the Play) rich and heavy ; oak panels, partly gilt; high-backed chairs, <&c. Enter SIR GEOFFREY and HODGE. SIR GEOFFREY. BUT, I say, the dog did howl last night, and it is a most suspicious circumstance. HODGE. Fegs, my dear Measter, if you'se think that these Lunnon thieves have found out that your honor's rents were paid last woik, mayhap I'd best sleep here in the loibery. SIR GEOFFREY (aside). How does he know I keep my moneys here 1 HODGE. Zooks ! I'se the old blunderbuss, and that will boite better than any dog, I'se warrant ! SIR GEOFFREY. (Aside. I begin to suspect him. For ten years so, i.] OR, MAKY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 37 have I nursed that viper at my hearth, and now he wants to sleep in my library, with a loaded blunder- buss, in case I should come in and detect him. I see murder in his very face. How blind I've been !) Hodge, you are very good very ; come closer. (Aside. 'What a felon step he has!) But I don't keep my rents here, they're all gone to the banker's. HODGE. Mayhap I'd best go and lock up the pleate ; or will you send that to the banker's ? SIR GEOFFREY. (Aside. I wonder if he has got an accomplice at the banker's ! it looks uncommonly like it.) No, I'll not send the plate to the banker's, I'll consider. You've not detected the miscreant who has been flinging flowers into the library the last four days ? HODGE. Noa, Sir Geoffrey ; I'se got 'em all safe in the coal- hole ! but there beant any gunpowder in 'em. What your honor took for the head of an adder was a sweet-pea ! SIR GEOFFREY. (Aside. Ugh ! just like servants ! If they saw their master in the folds of a boa constrictor, they'd tell him it was a climbing honeysuckle.) Well, and of course you've not observed any one watching your master, when he walks in his garden, from the window of that ugly old house in Deadman's Lane ? HODGE. With the sign of the Crown and Poor-Culley ! Why, it maun be very leately. 'Tint a week ago sin' it war empty. 88 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. SIR GEOFFREY. (Aside. How he evades the question ! -just as they do at the Old Bailey.) Get along with you, and feed the house-dog he's honest ! HODGE. Yes, your honor. [Exit. SIR GEOFFREY. How eagerly he said " Yes" very suspicious. Perhaps he wants to poison the dog not a doubt of it. Hodge ! Hodge ! (Enter HODGE.) Don't feed the dog ; I'll feed him myself. HODGE. Yes, your honor. [Exit. SIR GEOFFREY. I'm a very unhappy man, very ! Never did harm to any one done good to many. And ever since I was a babe in the cradle, all the world have been con- spiring and plotting against me. It certainly is an exceedingly wicked world ; and what its attraction can be to the other worlds, that they should have kept it spinning through space for six thousand years, I can't possibly conceive unless they are as bad as itself; I should not wonder. That new theory of attraction is a very suspicious circumstance against the planets there's a gang of 'em ! ( A bunch of flowers is thrown in at the window.) Heaven defend me ! There it is again ! This is the fifth bunch of flowers that's been thrown at me through the window what can it pos- sibly mean ? the most alarming circumstance ! (Cau- tiously poking at the flowers ivith his sword.) MR. GOODENOUGH EASY (without). Yes, Barbara, go and find Mistress Lucy. Never BO. L] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 39 mind announcing me, Hodge, I'm at Lome here. (Entering) How d'ye do, my hearty ? SIR GEOFFRET. Ugh ! hearty, indeed ! EASY. Why, what's the matter ? what are you poking at those flowers for ; is there a snake in them ? SIR GEOFFREY. Worse than that, I suspect ! Hem ! Goodenough Easy, I believe I may trust you EASY. You trusted me once with five thousand pounds. SIR GEOFFREY. Dear, dear, I forgot that. But you paid me back, Easy? EASY. Of course ; but the loan saved my credit, and made my fortune ; so the favor's the same. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! Don't say that ; favors and perfidy go to- gether I a truth I learned early in life. What favors I heaped on my foster-brother ! And did he not con- spire with my cousin to set my own father against me ; and trick me out of my heritage ? EASY. But you've heaped favors as great on the son of that scamp of a foster-brother ; and he 40 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT TI. SIR GEOFFREY. Ay ! but he don't know of them. And then there was my that girl's mother EASY. Ah ! that was an affliction which might well turn a man pre-inclined to suspicion, into a thorough self- tormentor for the rest of his life. But she loved you dearly once, old friend ; and were she yet alive, and could be proved guiltless after all SIR GEOFFREY. Guiltless! Sir? EASY. Well well ! we agreed never to talk upon that subject. Come, come, what of the nosegay ? SIR GEOFFREY. Yes, yes, the nosegay ! Hark ! I suspect some design on my life. The dog howled last night. When I walk in the garden, somebody or something (can't see what it is) seems at the watch in a window in Deadman's Lane pleasant name for a street at the back of one's premises ! And what looks blacker than all, for five days running, has been thrown in at me, yonder, surreptitiously and anonymously, what you call a nosegay ! EASY. Ha ! ha ! you lucky dog ! you are still not bad- looking ! Depend on it, the flowers come from a woman. SIR GEOFFRET. A woman ! my worst fears are confirmed ! In the small city of Placentia, in one year, there were no less than seven hundred cases of slow poisoning, and all by sc. T.J OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 41 women. Flowers were among the instruments they employed, steeped in laurel-water, and other mephitic preparations. Those flowers are poisoned. Not a doubt of it ! how very awful ! EASY. But why should any one take the trouble to poison you, Geoffrey ? SIR GEOFFREY. I don't know. But I don't know why seven hund- red people in one year were poisoned in Placentia. Hodge ! Hodge ! Enter HODGE. Bring a shovel and brush ! sweep away those flowers ! lock 'em up with the rest in the coal-hole. I'll examine them all chemically, by-and-by, with pre- caution. [Exit HODGE. EASY. But, Geoffrey, when a man has a daughter of an age in which flowers are not locked up in a coal-hole, mayn't he suspect that such mephitic preparations are intended for her ? Enter HODGE to remove the flowers. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! as if I had not thought that at first ; but why should they always be thrown into my special sitting-room, at the very hour I enter it, only when I'm alone? (To HODGE.) Don't smell at 'em; and, above all, don't let the house-dog smell at 'em. EASY. Ha ! ha ! SIR GEOFFREY. (Aside. Ugh ! that brute's laughing ! no more 42 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. feeling than a brickbat !) Goodenough Easy, you are a very happy man. EASY. Happy, yes. I could be happy on bread and water { SIR GEOFFREY. And would toast your bread at a conflagration, and fill your jug from a deluge ! Ugh ! I've a trouble you are more likely to feel for, as you've a girl of your own to keep out of mischief. A man named Wilmot, and styled " my Lord," has called here three times ; he pretends he saved my ahem ! that is, Lucy, from footpads, when she was coming home from your house in a sedan chair. And T suspect that the man means to make love to her ! EASY. Egad ! that's the only likely suspicion you've hit on this many a day. I've heard of Lord Wilmot. Soft- head professes to copy him. Rather a madcap. But his companions adore him. Wish you joy 1 SIR GEOFFREY. Joy ! you have the strangest expressions ! there's no wringing sympathy out of you. Joy, indeed ! a gay man a-la-mode! I've seen eno' of such villains. No girl whom I can control shall ever marry one of these heroes of Congreve and Wycherley. Ugh ! you did right, for once in your life, when you broke off the match between Mr. Softhead and Barbara, on the ground that the fool had become a fine gentleman ! EASY. O Lord, just the reverse ! that the fool could never become a fine gentleman ! I'm not severe ; but I am independent If there's a thing I despise in the world, so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 43 'tis a simpleton led away by example. Every class has its faults and its merits. Let each stick to its own. Softhead, the son of a trader ! he be a lounger at White's and Will's, and dine with wits and fine gentle- men ! He live with lords ! he mimic fashion ! No ! I've respect for even the faults of a man ; but I've none for the tricks of a monkey. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! you're so savage on Softhead, I suspect 'tis from envy. Man and monkey, indeed ! If a ribbon is tied to the tail of a monkey, it is not the man it enrages ; it is some other monkey whose tail has no ribbon ! EASY (angrily). I disdain your insinuations. Do you mean to imply that I am a monkey? I won't praise myself; but at least a more steady, respectable, sober SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! sober ! I suspect you'd get as drunk as a lord, if a lord passed the bottle ! EASY. Now, now now. Take care ; you'll put me in a passion. SIR GEOFFREY. There there beg pardon. But I fear you've a sneaking respect for a lord EASY. Sir, I respect the British Constitution and the House of Peers as a part of it ; ' but as for a lord in himself, with a mere handle to his name, a paltry title ! That can have no effect on a Briton, of independence and sense. And that's just the difference between Softhead 44 NOT SO BAB AS WE SEEM ; [ACT IT. and me. But as you don't like for a son-in-law, the real fine gentleman ; perhaps you've a mind to the copy. I am sure you are welcome to Softhead. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! I've other designs for the girl. EASY. Have you ? What ? Perhaps your favorite, young Hardman ? by the way, I've not met him here lately. Enter LUCY and BARBARA. LUCY. O, my dear father, forgive me if I disturb you ; but I did so long to see you I SIR GEOFFREY Why? LUCY. Because Hodge told me you'd been alarmed last night the dog howled ! But it was full moon last night, and he will howl at the moon ! SIR GEOFFREY. How did she know it was full moon ? I suspect she was looking out of the window Enter HODGE announcing LORD WILMOT and MR. SHADOWLY SOFTHEAD. SIR GEOFFREY. Wilmot ! my suspicions are confirmed ; she was looking out of the window ! This comes of Shak- speare having written that infernal incendiary trash about Romeo and Juliet ! sc, L] OK, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 45 Enter WILMOT and SOFTHEAD. WILMOT. Your servant, ladies ; Sir Geoffrey, your servant. I could not refuse Mr. Softhead's request to inquire after your health. SIR GEOFFREY. I thank your lordship ; but when my health wants inquiring after, I send for the doctor. WILMOT. Is it possible you can do any thing so dangerous and rash? SIR GEOFFREY. How ? how ? WILMOT. Send for the very man who has an interest in your being ill ! SIR GEOFFREY. That's very true. I did not think he had so much sense in him ! WILMOT. I need not inquire how you are, ladies ? When Hebe retired from the world, she divided her bloom between you. Mistress Barbara, vouchsafe me the honor a queen accords to the meanest of her gentle- men. [Kisses BARBARA'S hand, and leads her aside, conversing in dumb show. SOFTHEAD. Ah, Mistress Lucy, vouchsafe me the honor which But she don't hold her hand in the same position. LUCY (turning round). What did you say, Mr. Softhead 1 46 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. SOFTHEAD. Hem ! How was it ? oh, the meanest of your majesty's gentlemen. [Imitates WILMOT. EASY. Bravo ! bravo ! Master Softhead ! Encore ! SOFTHEAD. Bravo ! Encore ! I don't understand you, Mr. Easy. EASY. That bow of yours ! Perfect ! Plain to see you have not forgotten the old Dancing Master in Crooked Lane. LUCY. Fie, Mr. Easy ! your bow's charming, Mr. Sha- dowly. SOFTHEAD. It is not a common bow, I confess ; I and Lord Wilmot that is my friend, Fred, yonder, have a bow of our own. We are so alike in all things. We are often mistaken for each other (Aside I'm not an inconstant man ; but I'll show that City fellow, there are other ladies in town besides his daughter) Dimidum mece, how pretty you are, Mistress Lucy ! [ Walks aside with her. EASY. Ha I ha ! Geoffrey, I said you were welcome to Softhead. Quick work. One would think he'd over- heard, and was taking me at my word. SIR GEOFFREY. And I see that popinjay of a lord is more attentive to Barbara than ever he was to the other. so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 47 EASY. Hey ! hey ! D'ye think so ? SIR GEOFFREY. I suspect he has heard how rich you are. He seems a brisk, lively rogue. Best look sharp, just one of those Hymen-men, who knock down a father before he knows where he is, with ' Stand and de- liver ! your child and your money !' EASY. Certainly I should scorn to ask a lord to marry my daughter ; but if he were to ask me* 'Pon my life, I think there's something in it. WILMOT and BARBARA approaching BARBARA. Papa, Lord Wilmot begs to be presented to you. [Bows interchanged. WILMOT offers snuff-box. EASY at first declines, then accepts sneezes violently ; unused to snuff. SIR GEOFFREY. He ! he ! quite clear ! titled fortune-hunter. Over head and ears in debt, I dare say. Found out from poor Softhead that Easy's as rich as a Jew ; and now the mercenary wretch is trying to supplant his own friend. If so, Lucy's safe ! Nobody knows how rich I am take very good care of that. But I'll make all sure. (Takes WILMOT aside.) Pretty girl, Mis- tress Barbara ! Eh ? WILMOT. Pretty! Say beautiful! 48 NOT SO BAB AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. SIR GEOFFREY. He ! he ! Her father will give her fifty thousand pounds down on her wedding-day. Better off than my girl, who (if she marry with my consent) would only have a poor little property of the worst land in Nor- folk, and not a rood of that till I'm dead. And, zounds, my Lord ! I'm vigorous, and intend to live these thirty years. WILMOT. (Aside. The paternal enemy falls into the ambush.) Fifty thousand pounds on the wedding-day ! She's the loveliest creature I ever saw ! SIR GEOFFREY. Tho' her father's in commerce, you fine gentlemen don't live as if you had much respect for your ances- tors : you are too liberal to think that a man's want of birth should prevent him from satisfying your want of money. WILMOT. Indeed I am, and I venerate the British merchant who can give his daughter fifty thousand pounds! What a smile she has ! (Hooking his arm into SIR GEOFFREY'S.) I say, Sir Geoffrey, you see I'm very shy bashful indeed and Mr. Easy is watching every word I say to his daughter : so embarrassing ! Couldn't you get him out of the room ? SIR GEOFFREY. Mighty bashful indeed ! Turn the oldest friend I have out of my room, in order that you may make love to his daughter. (Turns away.) WILMOT tO EASY. I say, Mr. Easy. My double there, Softhead, is so shy bashful indeed and that suspicious Sir Geoffrey so. i.] OK, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 49 is watching every word he says to Mistress Lucy : so embarrassing ! Do get your friend out of the room, will you ? EASY. Ha! ha! Certainly, my Lord. (Aside. I see he wants to be alone with my Barbara. What will they say in Lombard-street when she's my Lady? Shouldn't wonder if they returned me M.P. for the City.) Come into the next room, Geoffrey ; and tell me your designs for Lucy. SIR GEOFFREY. Oh, very well ! You wish to encourage that pam- pered young Satrap ! How he does love a lord, and how a lord does love 50,000/. ! He ! he ! I know a little of the world. He ! he ! [Exit within. EASY. Monstrous fine young man that, Mistress Lucy, not a bit proud no airs and graces. SOFTHEAD. Oh, the best little fellow in the world, my friend Fred EASY. Your friend Fred ! Mr. Softhead, I despise the man who has his head so turned by a lord. [Exit after SIR GEOFFREY. WILMOT (running to LUCY, and pushing aside SOFTHEAD). Return to your native allegiance. Truce with the enemy, and exchange of prisoners. [Leads LUCY aside She rather grave and reluctant. D 50 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. BARBARA. So, you'll not speak to me, Mr. Softhead ; words are too rare with you fine gentlemen, to throw away upon old friends. SOFTHEAD. Ahem ! BARBARA. You don't remember the winter evenings you used to pass at our fireside ? nor the mistletoe bough at Christmas? nor the pleasant games at Blind-man's Buff and Hunt the Slipper ? nor the strong tea I made you when you had the migraine 1 nor how I prevented your eating Banbury cake at supper, when you know it always disagrees with you? But, I sup- pose you are so hardened that you can eat Banbury cake every night, now ! I'm sure it is nothing to me ! SOFTHEAD. Those recollections of one's early innocence are very melting ! One renounces a great deal of happiness for renown and ambition. Barbara ! BARBARA. Shadow ly ! SOFTHEAD. However one may rise in life, however the fashion may compel one to be a monster BARBARA. A monster ! SOFTHEAD. Yes, Fred and I are both monsters ! Still still still 'Ecod, I do love you with all my heart, and that's the truth of it. so. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER, 51 BARBARA. Oh, Shadowly ! that dear Lord Wilmot ! SOFTHEAD (alarmed and clapping his hand to his siuord). Ha ! the villain ! BARBARA. fe says he's sure you've never been false. SOFTHEAD. Fred's a jewel ! what a pity your Cit of a father can't abide the upper walks of society. WILMOT and LUCY advancing. LUCY. Nay, my Lord, this looks so like deceit ! WILMOT. But you must pardon a deceit that's so harmless. Sir Geoffrey's prejudice against me must be humored till I've time to remove it. I can not live without seeing you you have bewitched me ! LUCY. Ah my Lord ! I'm afraid you've been very often bewitched ! WILMOT. Fie ! you are as suspicious as your father. LUCY (courtesying). Your Lordship's reputation is far beyond suspi- cions ! WILMOT. She's been inquiring into my reputation. An ex- cellent symptom ! But, my charming Lucy when 52 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT 11. one takes up the character of a servant, 'tis a sort of etiquette to engage him. LUCY. Surely that depends on the character ! WILMOT. And what can be said against mine ? LUCY. Only that your Lordship is not a very faithful servant ! WILMOT. Her archness delights me. I have found what I have sought all my life, the union of spirit and sweet- ness, innocence and gayety. Oh, Lucy, if the renunci- ation of all youthful levities and follies, if the most steadfast adherence to your side despite all the chances of life, all temptations, all dangers [HARDMAN'S voice without. BARBARA. Hist ! some one coming. WILMOT. Change partners ; hands across. My angel Barbara ! Enter HARDMAN. HARDMAN. Lord Wilrnot here ! WILMOT. What ! does lie know Sir Geoffrey ? BARBARA. Oh yes. Sir Geoffrey thinks there's nobody like him. sc. i.l OB, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 53 HARDMAN (who has been saluting LUCY). Footpads ! Hum ! And pray how long since ? WILMOT. Well met, my dear Hardman. So you are intimate here? HARDMAN, Ay ; and you ? WILMOT. An acquaintance in its cradle ; just a week old. Droll man, Sir Geoffrey ; I delight in odd characters. Besides, here are other attractions. [Returning to BARBARA. HARDMAN (aside). If he be my rival ! Hum ! I hear from David Fallen that his father's on the brink of high treason ! That secret gives a hold on the son. [Joins LUCY. WILMOT tO BARBARA. You understand; 'tis a compact. You will favor my stratagem ? BARBARA. Yes ; and you'll engage to cure Softhead of his taste for the fashion, and send him back to the City. WILMOT. Since you live in the City, and condescend to regard such a monster ! BARBARA. Why, we were brought up together. His health is so delicate ; I should like to take care of him. WILMOT. If that is not woman all over, I don't know what is ! 64 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. BARBARA. And he's not so bad as he seems. Heigho ! I am afraid 'tis too late, and papa will never forgive his past follies. WILMOT. Yet papa seems very good-natured. Perhaps there's another side to his character ? BARBARA. Oh yes ! He is such a very independent man, my papa ! and has such a contempt for people who go out of their own rank, and make fools of themselves for the sake of example. WILMOT. Never fear; I'll ask him to dine, and open his heart with a cheerful glass. BARBARA. Cheerful glass ! You don't know papa the soberest man ! If there's any thing on which he's severe, 'tis a cheerful glass. WILMOT. So, so ! Does not he ever get a little excited ? BARBARA. Excited ! Don't think of it ! Besides, he is so in awe of Sir Geoffrey, who would tease him out of his life, if he could but hear that papa was so inconsistent as to as to WILMOT. As to get a little excited ? (Aside. These hints should suffice me ! 'Gad, if I could make him tipsy for once in a way ! I'll try.) Adieu, my sweet Bar- so. L] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 55 bara, and rely on the zeal of your faithful ally. Stay ; tell Mr. Easy that he must lounge into Will's. I will look out for him there in about a couple of hours. He'll meet many friends from the City, and all the wits and fine gentlemen. Don't forget. (Aside. Yes, I shall find Tonson at Will's. Let me see. Set Hardman to keep my wise father from mischief; get at that diabolical Memoir ; intoxicate Easy ; cure Softhead of fashion ; call to-night on the Lady of Mystery, Deadman's Lane; meanwhile stole a march on General " Ugh ! I suspect ;" and half-way to a wife. 'Gad, 'tis not such a dull day after all !) Allons ! Vive Id joie ! Softhead, we'll have a night of it! SOFTHEAD. Ah ! those were pleasant nights when one went to bed at half after ten. Heigho ! Adieu, Barbara. BARBARA. Adieu, Shadowly. [Exit WILMOT and SOFTHEAD. LUCY. Where are you going, dear ? BARBARA. Just into the garden, to have a good cry. I'll be back presently. [Exit. LUCY takes her work, and sits. HARDMAN, Hum ! I'm perplexed. Can it be Barbara ? Yet Lucy looks changed since I saw her last since Wil- mot has known her more grave. I dread to LUCY (sighing heavily). Ah, Mr. Hardman ! 50 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT 11. Why that sigh ? You, sad, whose happy mirth LUCY (coming forward). Is not always sincere. Ah, Mr. Hardman, my father confides to you many of his secrets. Did he ever tell you what fault I can amend, so that he might love me better ? Not once from my cradle has he even called me by the sweet name of child. HARDMAN. Nay, 'tis but his humors that conceal from you his heart. A parent's love is too precious a thing to be doubted lightly. But perhaps it is a mother that you miss ? LUCY. I never remember to have seen one ; but I miss her daily. (Aside. And never more than now !) HARDMAN. Be comforted. My lot is harder than yours. Far as I can look back into childhood motherless, father- less, homeless, friendless, lonely LUCY. Poor Mr. Hardman. I did not dream that you had such cause for sorrow. Seeing you so occupied and ambitious, one would not guess you concealed feelings thus deep. HARDMAN. What ! are deep feelings the monopoly of triflers ? Does the heart only beat under the velvet and laces of those spoiled darlings of fortune ? LUCY. What spoiled darlings of fortune ? so. L] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 57 HARDMAN. Men like the sleek lord whom I found here ! Men who are born to the hill-top that we sons of labor reach but to die. Ah, were the world but a stage, they might have their first choice of the pageant and wardrobe ; I would grudge not the spangles and tinsel. LUCY. Dear Mr. Hardman : you (Aside. I never saw him so before 1) HARDMAN. But the world's something more than a stage. Man is not always an actor. And woe to those darlings of fortune, when in the great war of the passions they strive, breast to breast, with us, stern sons of labor ! They, unnerved by the sunshine, we, braced by the storm. Ha ! ha ! we are stronger than they ! LUCY. You are strangely moved, Mr. Hardman. Have you any quarrel with him with Lord Wilmot ? HARDMAN. (Aside. I betray myself like an infant.) Lord Wil- mot ! 'Twas an old, very old, but very sore recollection of very different persons mere triflers that made me unjust for a moment to a man of the rarest accom- plishments. Pray, what do you think of Lord Wil- mot? Enter BARBARA. LUCY (resuming her work with her face turned away). Tndeed I can't say ; I've seen him so seldom. BARBARA. I think him 58 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT n. HA RDM AN (turning round). You ! yes, you think him ? BARBARA. The most charming, irresistible heigho ! HARDMAN. Indeed ! he, seemed most attentive to yon. Now I look at the girl, she's not ugly. I trust that the feel- ing's reciprocal ? BARBARA. It ought to be if there's any believing the promises and vows of you dangerous, deceitful men. HARDMAN. Promises vows ! Now, I look again, the girl's pretty decidedly pretty ! exceedingly pretty ! Why not she, after all ? BARBARA (glancing slyly toward LUCY). Do you think a poor innocent girl may safely trust her heart to Lord Wilmot ? HARDMAN. Indeed I do ; the most honorable of men ! (Seating himself.) (Aside. Even were it so, dare I hope for myself ? So fair, and an heiress ! Tut ! Have I ever yet failed in my struggle through life, aided but by my will and my brain? And now this twofold prize. Love for my happiness wealth for my ambition. Scheme now, plotting brain, dare now, stubborn will! Enter SIR GEOFFREY and EASY. SIR GEOFFREY. There he is seated apart will not even speak to that girl in my absence. So punctiliously honorable ! sc. i.] OR, MANY SIDES TO A CHARACTER. 59 HARDMAN (aside). But the father's consent ! Bah ! I've already got at the right side of his character. SIR GEOFFREY. Hush! Muttering some speech in defence of his country. HARDMAN (aside). If, too, I could get that place in the treasury ! Make my suit less presumptuous. Shall I write to Sir Robert? SIR GEOFFREY (advancing). He ! he ! my dear Hardman. We guess your thoughts. HARDMAN. ^f^** ^^^S Heh! Sir Geoffrey, you stating j IJT^Jg j *L EASY. " Hope it will succeed. HARDMAN (falteringly). What succeed ? EASY. Pooh ! don't look so embarrassed and awkward. I'm a bit of an orator myself, and we all know that young members get their speeches by heart. HARDMAN. Oh ! you are so shrewd, Mr. Easy. EASY (taking him aside). Not I; but you do know every thing. Intimate with Lord Wilmot, eh ? Fine young man ! Smitten with my little .girl ! But that suspicious old snarler 60 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT a. says, 'tis all for her money. Should not lik* that. My Lord's not in debt, eh 1 HARDMAN. Debt! he abhors it. Generous; but prudent i know all his affairs. As HARDMAN leaves EASY, SIR GEOFFREY (seizing him). He ! he ! I did it. Said she'd fifty thousand pounds HARDMAN. You are the most sagacious, incomparable man ! (Aside. I am assured ! Wilmot is not my rival. I'll save his father. David Fallen meets Lord Loftus at Will's. I'll be there.) My dear Sir Geoffrey ! (Shakes hands.) SIR GEOFFREY. I'm not like Easy. I have a pedigree, as long as a Welchman's much good it ever did me ! I'd rather give my heiress to a man who made his own way through life than to a HARDMAN. You would ? (Aside. I will write to Wai pole at once for that place.) Bless me, how late it is ! I must be off. Good-by, Mr. Easy. My heartfelt con- gratulations. I shall be at Will's myself later. Good-by, Sir Geoffrey. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! always in a hurry. EASY. But always getting on. What's your secret ? sc. I.] OB, MANY SIDES TO A CHABAOTER. 61 HARDMAN (holding up Ms watch). This. The way to get on is to be never behind time. More than that, Mr. Easy what is mind with- out action ? a watch without hands ! the wheels may go round, the chainwork may lengthen what use in either unless the hands make us sure of the moment and hour ? Wheel and hands thought and action brain and will. Your hand, Mistress Lucy ! \Exit. EASY. Quite the man of business! So what I call practical ! Very clever fellow ! BARBARA (aside to LUCY, her finger on her Up). Yet, I think I have puzzled him. LUCY (aloud and thoughtfully). I am sure he himself is a puzzle. SIR GEOFFREY. Ugh ! as honest as Truth EASY. And as deep as her well ! END OF ACT II. 62 NOT SO BAD AS WE SEEM ; [ACT in. ACT III. SCENE I. Will's Coffee-house ; occupying the depth of the stage. Vari- ous groups : LORD LE TRIMMER, SIR THOMAS TIMID, COLONEL FLINT, JACOB TONSON,