ACT II.

SCENE.—CROAKER'S _house_.

MISS RICHLAND, GARNET.

MISS RICH. Olivia not his sister? Olivia not Leontine's sister? You amaze me!

GARNET. No more his sister than I am; I had it all from his own servant; I can get anything from that quarter.

MISS RICH. But how? Tell me again, Garnet.

GARNET. Why madam, as I told you before, instead of going to Lyons to bring home his sister, who has been there with her aunt these ten years he never went further than Paris; there he saw and fell in love with this young lady: by the bye, of a prodigious family.

MISS RICH. And brought her home to my guardian, as his daughter.

GARNET. Yes, and daughter she will be. If he don't consent to their marriage, they talk of trying what a Scotch parson can do.

MISS RICH. Well, I own they have deceived me—And so demurely as Olivia carried it too!—Would you believe it, Garnet, I told her all my secrets; and yet the sly cheat concealed all this from me?

GARNET. And, upon my word, madam, I don't much blame her; she was loth to trust one with her secrets, that was so very bad at keeping her own.

MISS RICH. But, to add to their deceit, the young gentleman, it seems, pretends to make me serious proposals. My guardian and he are to be here presently, to open the affair in form. You know I am to lose half my fortune if I refuse him.

GARNET. Yet what can you do? for being, as you are, in love with Mr. Honeywood, madam—

MISS RICH. How, idiot! what do you mean? In love with Mr. Honeywood! Is this to provoke me?

GARNET. That is, madam, in friendship with him; I meant nothing more than friendship, as I hope to be married; nothing more.

MISS RICH. Well, no more of this. As to my guardian and his son, they shall find me prepared to receive them; I'm resolved to accept their proposal with seeming pleasure, to mortify them by compliance, and so throw the refusal at last upon them.

GARNET. Delicious! and that will secure your whole fortune to yourself. Well, who could have thought so innocent a face could cover so much cuteness?

MISS RICH. Why, girl, I only oppose my prudence to their cunning, and practise a lesson they have taught me against themselves.

GARNET. Then you're likely not long to want employment; for here they come, and in close conference.

_Enter_ CROAKER, LEONTINE.

LEONT. Excuse me, sir, if I seem to hesitate upon the point of putting to the lady so important a question.

CROAKER. Lord, good sir! moderate your fears; you're so plaguy shy, that one would think you had changed sexes. I tell you, we must have the half or the whole. Come, let me see with what spirit you begin. Well, why don't you? Eh? What? Well then—I must, it seems. Miss Richland, my dear, I believe you guess at our business; an affair which my son here comes to open, that nearly concerns your happiness.

MISS RICH. Sir, I should be ungrateful not to be pleased with anything that comes recommended by you.

CROAKER. How, boy, could you desire a finer opportunity? Why don't you begin, I say?

[_To_ LEONT.

LEONT. 'Tis true, madam, my father, madam, has some intentions—hem—of explaining an affair—which—himself—can best explain, madam.

CROAKER. Yes, my dear; it comes entirely from my son; it's all a request of his own, madam. And I will permit him to make the best of it.

LEONT. The whole affair is only this, madam; my father has a proposal to make, which he insists none but himself shall deliver.

CROAKER. My mind misgives me, the fellow will never be brought on. (_Aside._) In short, madam, you see before you one that loves you; one whose whole happiness is all in you.

MISS RICH. I never had any doubts of your regard, sir; and I hope you can have none of my duty.

CROAKER. That's not the thing, my little sweeting, my love. No, no, another-guess lover than I, there he stands, madam; his very looks declare the force of his passion—Call up a look, you dog—But then, had you seen him, as I have, weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent—

MISS RICH. I fear, sir, he's absent now; or such a declaration would have come most properly from himself.

CROAKER. Himself, madam! He would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through me, it would ere now have drowned his understanding.

MISS RICH. I must grant, sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence, above the force of words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence of sincerity.

CROAKER. Madam, he has forgot to speak any other language; silence is become his mother-tongue.

MISS RICH. And it must be confessed, sir, it speaks very powerful in his favour. And yet, I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine?

LEONT. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (_Aside._) Don't imagine from my silence, madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness intended me. My father, madam, tells me, your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you. He admires you; I adore you; and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St. James's.

MISS RICH. If I could flatter myself, you thought as you speak, sir—

LEONT. Doubt my sincerity, madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory, ask cowards if they covet safety—

CROAKER. Well, well, no more questions about it.

LEONT. Ask the sick if they long for health, ask misers if they love money, ask—

CROAKER. Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense! What's come over the boy? What signifies asking, when there's not a soul to give you an answer? If you would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent to make you happy.

MISS RICH. Why indeed, sir, his uncommon ardour almost compels me, forces me, to comply, And yet I am afraid he'll despise a conquest gained with too much ease; won't you Mr. Leontine?

LEONT. Confusion! (_Aside._) O, by no means, madam, by no means. And yet, madam, you talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. No, madam; I will still be generous, and leave you at liberty to refuse.

CROAKER. But I tell you, sir, the lady is not at liberty. It's a match. You see she says nothing. Silence gives consent.

LEONT. But, sir, she talked of force. Consider, sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations.

CROAKER. But I say there's no cruelty. Don't you know, blockhead, that girls have always a round-about way of saying Yes before company? So get you both gone together into the next room, and hang him that interrupts the tender explanation. Get you gone, I say; I'll not hear a word.

LEONT. But, sir, I must beg leave to insist—

CROAKER. Get off, you puppy, or I'll beg leave to insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! But I don't wonder; the boy takes entirely after his mother.

[_Exeunt_ MISS RICH. _and_ LEONT.

_Enter_ MRS. CROAKER.

MRS. CROAKER. Mr. Croaker, I bring you something, my dear, that I believe will make you smile.

CROAKER. I'll hold you a guinea of that, my dear.

MRS. CROAKER. A letter; and, as I knew the hand, I ventured to open it.

CROAKER. And how can you expect your breaking open my letters should give me pleasure?

MRS. CROAKER. Pooh, it's from your sister at Lyons, and contains good news: read it.

CROAKER. What a Frenchified cover is here! That sister of mine has some good qualities, but I could never teach her to fold a letter.

MRS. CROAKER. Fold a fiddlestick! Read what it contains.

CROAKER. (_reading._) "Dear Nick,—An English gentleman, of large fortune, has for some time made private, though honourable, proposals to your daughter Olivia. They love each other tenderly, and I find she has consented, without letting any of the family know, to crown his addresses. As such good offers don't come every day, your own good sense, his large fortune, and family considerations, will induce you to forgive her.—Yours ever, Rachel Croaker." My daughter Olivia privately contracted to a man of large fortune! This is good news indeed. My heart never foretold me of this. And yet, how slily the little baggage has carried it since she came home! Not a word on't to the old ones, for the world! Yet I thought I saw something she wanted to conceal.

MRS. CROAKER. Well, if they have concealed their amour, they shan't conceal their wedding; that shall be public, I'm resolved.

CROAKER. I tell thee, woman, the wedding is the most foolish part of the ceremony. I can never get this woman to think of the more serious part of the nuptial engagement.

MRS. CROAKER. What, would you have me think of their funeral? But come, tell me, my dear, don't you owe more to me than you care to confess? Would you have ever been known to Mr. Lofty, who has undertaken Miss Richland's claim at the Treasury, but for me? Who was it first made him an acquaintance at Lady Shabbaroon's rout? Who got him to promise us his interest? Is not he a back-stairs favourite, one that can do what he pleases with those that do what they please? Isn't he an acquaintance that all your groaning and lamentations could never have got us?

CROAKER. He is a man of importance, I grant you; and yet, what amazes me is, that while he is giving away places to all the world, he can't get one for himself.

MRS. CROAKER. That perhaps may be owing to his nicety. Great men are not easily satisfied.

_Enter_ FRENCH SERVANT.

SERVANT. An expresse from Monsieur Lofty. He vil be vait upon your honours instamment. He be only giving four five instruction, read two tree memorial, call upon von ambassadeur. He vil be vid you in one tree minutes.

MRS. CROAKER. You see now, my dear, what an extensive department. Well, friend, let your master know, that we are extremely honoured by this honour. Was there any thing ever in a higher style of breeding? All messages among the great are now done by express.

CROAKER. To be sure, no man does little things with more solemnity, or claims more respect, than he. But he's in the right on't. In our bad world, respect is given where respect is claimed.

MRS. CROAKER. Never mind the world, my dear; you were never in a pleasanter place in your life. Let us now think of receiving him with proper respect: (_a loud rapping at the door_) and there he is, by the thundering rap.

CROAKER. Ay, verily, there he is; as close upon the heels of his own express, as an endorsement upon the back of a bill. Well, I'll leave you to receive him, whilst I go to chide my little Olivia for intending to steal a marriage without mine or her aunt's consent. I must seem to be angry, or she too may begin to despise my authority.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ LOFTY, _speaking to his_ SERVANT.

LOFTY. And if the Venetian ambassador, or that teazing creature the marquis, should call, I'm not at home. Dam'me, I'll be packhorse to none of them. My dear madam, I have just snatched a moment—and if the expresses to his grace be ready, let them be sent off; they're of importance. Madam, I ask a thousand pardons.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour—

LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the person calls about the commission, let him know that it is made out. As for Lord Cumbercourt's stale request; it can keep cold: you understand me. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour—

LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the man comes from the Cornish borough, you must do him; you must do him, I say. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons. And if the Russian ambassador calls; but he will scarce call to-day, I believe. And now, madam, I have just got time to express my happiness in having the honour of being permitted to profess myself your most obedient humble servant.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, the happiness and honour are all mine: and yet I'm only robbing the public while I detain you.

LOFTY. Sink the public, madam, when the fair are to be attended. Ah, could all my hours be so charmingly devoted! Sincerely, don't you pity us poor creatures in affairs? Thus it is eternally; solicited for places here, teazed for pensions there, and courted everywhere. I know you pity me. Yes, I see you do.

MRS. CROAKER. Excuse me, sir; "Toils of empires pleasures are," as Waller says.

LOFTY. Waller, Waller; is he of the house?

MRS. CROAKER. The modern poet of that name, sir.

LOFTY. Oh, a modern! We men of business despise the moderns; and as for the ancients, we have no time to read them. Poetry is a pretty thing enough for our wives and daughters; but not for us. Why now, here I stand that know nothing of books; I say, madam, I know nothing of books; and yet, I believe, upon a land carriage fishery, a stamp act, or a jaghire, I can talk my two hours without feeling the want of them.

MRS. CROAKER. The world is no stranger to Mr. Lofty's eminence in every capacity.

LOFTY. I vow to gad, madam, you make me blush. I'm nothing, nothing, nothing, in the world; a mere obscure gentleman. To be sure, indeed, one or two of the present ministers are pleased to represent me as a formidable man. I know they are pleased to bespatter me at all their little dirty levees. Yet, upon my soul, I wonder what they see in me to treat me so. Measures, not men, have always been my mark; and I vow, by all that's honourable, my resentment has never done the men, as mere men, any manner of harm—that is, as mere men.

MRS. CROAKER. What importance, and yet what modesty!

LOFTY. Oh, if you talk of modesty, madam; there, I own, I'm accessible to praise: modesty is my foible: it was so, the Duke of Brentford used to say of me. I love Jack Lofty, he used to say: no man has a finer knowledge of things; quite a man of information; and when he speaks upon his legs, by the Lord he's prodigious; he scouts them: and yet all men have their faults; too much modesty is his, says his grace.

MRS. CROAKER. And yet, I dare say, you don't want assurance when you come to solicit for your friends.

LOFTY. O, there indeed I'm in bronze. Apropos, I have just been mentioning Miss Richland's case to a certain personage; we must name no names. When I ask, I am not to be put off, madam. No, no, I take my friend by the button. "A fine girl, sir; great justice in her case. A friend of mine. Borough interest. Business must be done, Mr. Secretary. I say, Mr. Secretary, her business must be done, sir." That's my way, madam.

MRS. CROAKER. Bless me! you said all this to the secretary of state, did you?

LOFTY. I did not say the secretary, did I? Well, curse it, since you have found me out I will not deny it. It was to the secretary.

MRS. CROAKER. This was going to the fountain head at once; not applying to the understrappers, as Mr. Honeywood would have had us.

LOFTY. Honeywood! he-he! He was, indeed, a fine solicitor. I suppose you have heard what has just happened to him?

MRS. CROAKER. Poor dear man! No accident, I hope.

LOFTY. Undone, madam, that's all. His creditors have taken him into custody. A prisoner in his own house.

MRS. CROAKER. A prisoner in his own house! How! At this very time? I'm quite unhappy for him.

LOFTY. Why, so am I. The man, to be sure, was immensely good-natured; but then, I could never find that he had anything in him.

MRS. CROAKER. His manner, to be sure, was excessive harmless; some, indeed, thought it a little dull. For my part I always concealed my opinion.

LOFTY. It can't be concealed, madam: the man was dull, dull as the last new comedy! A poor impracticable creature! I tried once or twice to know if he was fit for business, but he had scarce talents to be groom-porter to an orange barrow.

MRS. CROAKER. How differently does Miss Richland think of him! for, I believe, with all his faults, she loves him.

LOFTY. Loves him! Does she? You should cure her of that, by all means. Let me see: what if she were sent to him this instant, in his present doleful situation? My life for it, that works her cure. Distress is a perfect antidote to love. Suppose we join her in the next room? Miss Richland is a fine girl, has a fine fortune, and must not be thrown away. Upon my honour, madam, I have a regard for Miss Richland; and, rather than she should be thrown away, I should think it no indignity to marry her myself.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ OLIVIA _and_ LEONTINE.

LEONT. And yet, trust me, Olivia, I had every reason to expect Miss Richland's refusal, as I did everything in my power to deserve it. Her indelicacy surprises me.

OLIVIA. Sure, Leontine, there's nothing so indelicate in being sensible of your merit. If so, I fear I shall be the most guilty thing alive.

LEONT. But you mistake, my dear. The same attention I used to advance my merit with you, I practised to lessen it with her. What more could I do?

OLIVIA. Let us now rather consider what's to be done. We have both dissembled too long. I have always been ashamed, I am now quite weary, of it. Sure, I could never have undergone so much for any other but you.

LEONT. And you shall find my gratitude equal to your kindest compliance. Though our friends should totally forsake us, Olivia, we can draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune.

OLIVIA. Then why should we defer our scheme of humble happiness, when it is now in our power? I may be the favourite of your father, it is true; but can it ever be thought, that his present kindness to a supposed child, will continue to a known deceiver?

LEONT. I have many reasons to believe it will. As his attachments are but few, they are lasting. His own marriage was a private one, as ours may be. Besides, I have sounded him already at a distance, and find all his answers exactly to our wish. Nay by an expression or two that dropp'd from him, I am induced to think he knows of this affair.

OLIVIA. Indeed! But that would be a happiness too great to be expected.

LEONT. However it be, I'm certain you have power over him; and am persuaded, if you informed him of our situation, that he would be disposed to pardon it.

OLIVIA. You had equal expectations, Leontine, from your last scheme with Miss Richland, which you find has succeeded most wretchedly.

LEONT. And that's the best reason for trying another.

OLIVIA. If it must be so, I submit.

LEONT. As we could wish, he comes this way. Now, my dearest Olivia, be resolute. I'll just retire within hearing, to come in at a proper time, either to share your danger, or confirm your victory.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ CROAKER.

CROAKER. Yes, I must forgive her; and yet not too easily, neither. It will be proper to keep up the decorums of resentment a little, if it be only to impress her with an idea of my authority.

OLIVIA. How I tremble to approach him!—Might I presume, sir—If I interrupt you—

CROAKER. No, child; where I have an affection, it is not a little thing can interrupt me. Affection gets over little things.

OLIVIA. Sir, you're too kind. I'm sensible how ill I deserve this partiality. Yet Heaven knows there is nothing I would not do to gain it.

CROAKER. And you have but too well succeeded, you little hussy, you. With those endearing ways of yours, on my conscience, I could be brought to forgive any thing, unless it were a very great offence indeed.

OLIVIA. But mine is such an offence—When you know my guilt—Yes, you shall know it, though I feel the greatest pain in the confession.

CROAKER. Why then, if it be so very great a pain, you may spare yourself the trouble, for I know every syllable of the matter before you begin.

OLIVIA. Indeed! Then I'm undone.

CROAKER. Ay, miss, you wanted to steal a match, without letting me know it, did you? But I'm not worth being consulted, I suppose, when there's to be a marriage in my own family. No, I'm to have no hand in the disposal of my own children. No, I'm nobody. I'm to be a mere article of family lumber; a piece of crack'd china to be stuck up in a corner.

OLIVIA. Dear sir, nothing but the dread of your authority could induce us to conceal it from you.

CROAKER. No, no, my consequence is no more; I'm as little minded as a dead Russian in winter, just stuck up with a pipe in his mouth till there comes a thaw—It goes to my heart to vex her.

OLIVIA. I was prepared, sir, for your anger, and despaired of pardon, even while I presumed to ask it. But your severity shall never abate my affection, as my punishment is but justice.

CROAKER. And yet you should not despair neither, Livy. We ought to hope all for the best.

OLIVIA. And do you permit me to hope, sir? Can I ever expect to be forgiven? But hope has too long deceived me.

CROAKER. Why then, child, it shan't deceive you now, for I forgive you this very moment; I forgive you all; and now you are indeed my daughter.

OLIVIA. O transport! This kindness overpowers me.

CROAKER. I was always against severity to our children. We have been young and giddy ourselves, and we can't expect boys and girls to be old before their time.

OLIVIA. What generosity! But can you forget the many falsehoods, the dissimulation——

CROAKER. You did indeed dissemble, you urchin you; but where's the girl that won't dissemble for a husband? My wife and I had never been married, if we had not dissembled a little beforehand.

OLIVIA. It shall be my future care never to put such generosity to a second trial. And as for the partner of my offence and folly, from his native honour, and the just sense he has of his duty, I can answer for him that——

_Enter_ LEONTINE.

LEONT. Permit him thus to answer for himself. (_Kneeling._) Thus, sir, let me speak my gratitude for this unmerited forgiveness. Yes, sir, this even exceeds all your former tenderness: I now can boast the most indulgent of fathers. The life he gave, compared to this, was but a trifling blessing.

CROAKER. And, good sir, who sent for you, with that fine tragedy face, and flourishing manner? I don't know what we have to do with your gratitude upon this occasion.

LEONT. How, sir, is it possible to be silent when so much obliged? Would you refuse me the pleasure of being grateful? Of adding my thanks to my Olivia's? Of sharing in the transports that you have thus occasioned?

CROAKER. Lord, sir, we can be happy enough, without your coming in to make up the party. I don't know what's the matter with the boy all this day; he has got into such a rhodomontade manner all the morning!

LEONT. But, sir, I that have so large a part in the benefit, is it not my duty to show my joy? Is the being admitted to your favour so slight an obligation? Is the happiness of marrying my Olivia so small a blessing?

CROAKER. Marrying Olivia! marrying Olivia! marrying his own sister! Sure the boy is out of his senses! His own sister!

LEONT. My sister!

OLIVIA. Sister! How have I been mistaken!

_Aside._

LEONT. Some cursed mistake in all this, I find.

_Aside._

CROAKER. What does the booby mean, or has he any meaning? Eh, what do you mean, you blockhead you?

LEONT. Mean, sir—why, sir—only when my sister is to be married, that I have the pleasure of marrying her, sir; that is, of giving her away, sir—I have made a point of it.

CROAKER. O, is that all? Give her away. You have made a point of it. Then you had as good make a point of first giving away yourself, as I'm going to prepare the writings between you and Miss Richland this very minute. What a fuss is here about nothing! Why, what's the matter now? I thought I had made you at least as happy as you could wish.

OLIVIA. Oh! yes, sir, very happy.

CROAKER. Do you foresee anything, child? You look as if you did. I think if anything was to be foreseen, I have as sharp a look-out as another: and yet I foresee nothing.

[_Exit._

LEONTINE, OLIVIA.

OLIVIA. What can it mean?

LEONT. He knows something, and yet for my life I can't tell what.

OLIVIA. It can't be the connexion between us, I'm pretty certain.

LEONT. Whatever it be, my dearest, I'm resolved to put it out of Fortune's power to repeat our mortification. I'll haste, and prepare for our journey to Scotland this very evening. My friend Honeywood has promised me his advice and assistance. I'll go to him, and repose our distresses on his friendly bosom: and I know so much of his honest heart, that if he can't relieve our uneasinesses, he will at least share them.

[_Exeunt._