SCENE II.--TIPKIN'S _House.

_Enter_ POUNCE _with papers; a table, chairs, pen, ink, and paper._

_Pounce._ 'Tis a delight to gall these old rascals, and set 'em at variance about stakes, which I know neither of 'em will ever have possession of.

_Enter_ TIPKIN _and_ SIR HARRY.

_Tip._ Do you design, Sir Harry, that they shall have an estate in their own hands, and keep house themselves, poor things?

_Sir Har._ No, no, sir, I know better; they shall go down into the country, and live with me, not touch a farthing of money; but, having all things necessary provided, they shall go tame about the house, and breed.

_Tip._ Well, Sir Harry, then considering that all human things are subject to change, it behoves every man that has a just sense of mortality to take care of his money.

_Sir Har._ I don't know what you mean, brother. What do you drive at, brother?

_Tip._ This instrument is executed by you, your son, and my niece, which discharges me of all retrospects.

_Sir Har._ It is confessed, brother; but what then?

_Tip._ All that remains is, that you pay me for the young lady's twelve years' board, as also all other charges, as wearing-apparel, &c.

_Sir Har._ What is this you say? Did I give you my discharge from all retrospects, as you call it? and after all do you come with this and t'other, and all that? I find you are--I tell you, sir, to your face--I find you are----

_Tip._ I find too what you are, Sir Harry.

_Sir Har._ What am I, sir? What am I?

_Tip._ Why, sir, you are angry.

_Sir Har._ Sir, I scorn your words; I am not angry. Mr. Pounce is my witness; I am as gentle as a lamb. Would it not make any flesh alive angry, to see a close hunks come after all with a demand of----

_Tip._ Mr. Pounce, pray inform Sir Harry in this point.

_Pounce._ Indeed, Sir Harry, I must tell you plainly, that Mr. Tipkin, in this, demands nothing but what he may recover. For though this case may be considered _multifariam_--that is to say, as 'tis usually, commonly, _vicatim_, or vulgarly expressed--yet, I say, when we only observe that the power is settled as the law requires, _assensu patris_, by the consent of the father, that circumstance imports you are well acquainted with the advantages which accrue to your family by this alliance, which corroborates Mr. Tipkin's demand, and avoids all objections that can be made.

_Sir Har._ Why then, I find you are his adviser in all this.

_Pounce._ Look ye, Sir Harry, to show you I love to promote among my clients a good understanding; though Mr. Tipkin may claim four thousand pounds, I'll engage for him, and I know him so well, that he shall take three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eightpence farthing.

_Tip._ Indeed, Mr. Pounce, you are too hard upon me.

_Pounce._ You must consider a little, Sir Harry is your brother.

_Sir Har._ Three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eightpence farthing! For what, I say? For what, sir?

_Pounce._ For what, sir! for what she wanted, sir; a fine lady is always in want, sir--her very clothes would come to that money in half the time.

_Sir Har._ Three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eighteenpence farthing for clothes! Pray how many suits does she wear out in a year?

_Pounce._ Oh! dear sir, a fine lady's clothes are not old by being worn, but by being seen.

_Sir Har._ Well, I'll save her clothes for the future, after I have got her into the country. I'll warrant her she shall not appear more in this wicked town, where clothes are worn out by sight--And as to what you demand, I tell you, sir, 'tis extortion.

_Tip._ Sir Harry, do you accuse me of extortion?

_Sir Har._ Yes, I say extortion.

_Tip._ Mr. Pounce, write down that; there are very good laws provided against scandal and calumny--Loss of reputation may tend to loss of money.

_Pounce._ Item, "for having accused Mr. Tipkin of extortion."

_Sir Har._ Nay, if you come to your items--look ye, Mr. Tipkin, this is an inventory of such goods as were left to my niece, Bridget, by her deceased father, and which I expect shall be forthcoming at her marriage to my son: Imprimis, "a golden locket of her mother's, with something very ingenious in Latin on the inside of it"; item, "a couple of muskets, with two shoulder-belts and bandoleers"; item, "a large silver caudle-cup, with a true story engraven on it."

_Pounce._ But, Sir Harry----

_Sir Har._ Item, "a bass viol, with almost all the strings to it, and only a small hole on the back."

_Pounce._ But nevertheless, sir----

_Sir Har._ This is the furniture of my brother's bedchamber that follows:--"A suite of tapestry hangings, with the story of Judith and Holofernes, torn only where the head should have been off; an old bedstead, curiously wrought about the posts, consisting of two load of timber; a hone, a basin, three razors, and a comb-case"--Look ye, sir, you see I can item it.

_Pounce._ Alas, Sir Harry, if you had ten quire of items, 'tis all answered in the word retrospect.

_Sir Har._ Why then, Mr. Pounce and Mr. Tipkin, you are both rascals.

_Tip._ Do you call me rascal, Sir Harry?

_Sir Har._ Yes, sir.

_Tip._ Write it down, Mr. Pounce, at the end of the leaf.

_Sir Har._ If you have room, Mr. Pounce, put down "villain, son of a whore, curmudgeon, hunks, and scoundrel."

_Tip._ Not so fast, Sir Harry, he cannot write so fast; you are at the word "villain"; "son of a whore," I take it, was next--You may make the account as large as you please, Sir Harry.

_Sir Har._ Come, come, I won't be used thus. Hark ye, sirrah, draw--what do you do at this end of the town without a sword? Draw, I say--

_Tip._ Sir Harry, you are a military man, a colonel of the Militia.

_Sir Har._ I am so, sirrah, and will run such an extorting dog as you through the guts, to show the Militia is useful.

_Pounce._ O dear, O dear! How am I concerned to see persons of your figure thus moved--The wedding is coming in, we'll settle these things afterwards.

_Tip._ I am calm.

_Sir Har._ Tipkin, live these two hours, but expect--

_Enter_ HUMPHRY, _leading_ NIECE; MRS. CLERIMONT, _led by_ FAINLOVE; CAPTAIN CLERIMONT _and_ CLERIMONT, SEN.

_Pounce._ Who are these? Hey-day, who are these, Sir Harry? Ha!

_Sir Har._ Some frolic, 'tis wedding-day; no matter.

_Hump._ Haw! haw! father, master uncle, come, you must stir your stumps, you must dance--Come, old lads, kiss the ladies.

_Mrs. Cler._ Mr. Tipkin, Sir Harry, I beg pardon for an introduction so malapropos; I know sudden familiarity is not the English way. Alas, Mr. Gubbin, this father and uncle of yours must be new modelled; how they stare, both of them!

_Sir Har._ Hark ye, Numps, who is this you have brought hither? is it not the famous fine lady, Mrs. Clerimont? What a pox did you let her come near your wife?

_Hump._ Look ye, don't expose yourself, and play some mad country prank to disgrace me before her; I shall be laughed at, because she knows I understand better.

_Mrs. Cler._ I congratulate, madam, your coming out of the bondage of a virgin state. A woman can't do what she will properly till she's married.

_Sir Har._ Did you hear what she said to your wife?

_Enter_ AUNT, _before a service of Dishes._

_Aunt._ So, Mr. Bridegroom, pray take that napkin, and serve your spouse to-day, according to custom.

_Hump._ Mrs. Clerimont, pray know my aunt.

_Mrs. Cler._ Madam, I must beg your pardon; I can't possibly like all that vast load of meat that you are sending in to table, besides, 'tis so offensively sweet, it wants that haut-goût we are so delighted with in France.[100]

_Aunt._ You'll pardon it, since we did not expect you--Who is this? [_Aside._

_Mrs. Cler._ Oh, madam, I only speak for the future; little saucers are so much more polite. Look ye, I'm perfectly for the French way; where'er I'm admitted, I take the whole upon me.

_Sir Har._ The French, madam, I'd have you to know----

_Mrs. Cler._ You'll not like it at first, out of a natural English sullenness, but that will come upon you by degrees. When I first went into France I was mortally afraid of a frog, but in a little time I could eat nothing else, except salads.

_Aunt._ Eat frogs! have I kissed one that has ate frogs? Paw! paw!

_Mrs. Cler._ Oh, madam, a frog and a salad are delicious fare; 'tis not long come up in France itself, but their glorious monarch has introduced the diet which makes 'em so spiritual. He eradicated all gross food by taxes, and, for the glory of the monarch, sent the subject a-grazing--but I fear I defer the entertainment and diversion of the day.

_Hump._ Now father, uncle, before we go any further, I think 'tis necessary we know who and who's together; then I give either of you two hours to guess which is my wife--and 'tis not my cousin; so far I'll tell you.

_Sir Har._ How! What do you say? But oh! you mean she is not your cousin now, she's nearer akin; that's well enough. Well said, Numps; ha! ha! ha!

_Hump._ No, I don't mean so; I tell you I don't mean so--My wife hides her face under her hat. [_All looking at_ FAINLOVE.

_Tip._ What does the puppy mean? His wife under a hat!

_Hump._ Ay, ay, that's she, that's she--A good jest, 'faith!

_Sir Har._ Hark ye, Numps, what dost mean, child? Is that a woman, and are you really married to her?

_Hump._ I am sure of both.

_Sir Har._ Are you so, sirrah? then, sirrah, this is your wedding dinner, sirrah--Do you see, sirrah, here's roast meat.

_Hump._ Oh, oh! what, beat a married man! Hold him, Mr. Clerimont, Brother Pounce, Mr. Wife; nobody stand by a young married man! [_Runs behind_ FAINLOVE.

_Sir Har._ Did not the dog say Brother Pounce? what, is this Mrs. Ragout? this Madam Clerimont? Who the devil are you all? but especially who the devil are you two? [_Beats_ HUMPHRY _and_ FAINLOVE _off the Stage, following._

_Tip._ [_To_ POUNCE.] Master Pounce, all my niece's fortune will be demanded now--for I suppose that red coat has her. Don't you think you and I had better break?

_Pounce._ [_To_ TIPKIN.] You may as soon as you please, but 'tis my interest to be honest a little longer.

_Tip._ Well, Biddy, since you would not accept of your cousin, I hope you han't disposed of yourself elsewhere.

_Niece._ If you'll for a little while suspend your curiosity, you shall have the whole history of my amour to this my nuptial day, under the title of the loves of Clerimont and Parthenissa.

_Tip._ Then, madam, your portion is in safe hands.

_Cler._ Come, come, old gentleman, 'tis in vain to contend; here's honest Mr. Pounce shall be my engineer, and I warrant you we beat you out of all your holds.

_Aunt._ What then, is Mr. Pounce a rogue?--He must have some trick, brother, it cannot be; he must have cheated t'other side, for I'm sure he's honest. [_Apart to_ TIPKIN.

_Cler. Sen._ Mr. Pounce, all your sister has won of this lady she has honestly put into my hands; and I'll return it her, at this lady's particular request.

_Pounce._ And the thousand pounds you promised in your brother's behalf, I'm willing should be hers also.

_Cler. Sen._ Then go in, and bring 'em all back to make the best of an ill game; we'll eat the dinner and have a dance together, or we shall transgress all form.

_Re-enter_ FAINLOVE, HUMPHRY, _and_ SIR HARRY.

_Sir Har._ Well, since you say you are worth something, and the boy has set his heart upon you, I'll have patience till I see further.

_Pounce._ Come, come, Sir Harry, you shall find my alliance more considerable than you imagine; the Pounces are a family that will always have money, if there's any in the world--Come, fiddles.

[_A Dance here._]

_Cler. Sen._

You've seen th' extremes of the domestic life, A son too much confined--too free a wife; By generous bonds you either should restrain, And only on their inclinations gain; Wives to obey must love, children revere, While only slaves are governed by their fear.

EPILOGUE.

_Spoken by_ MR. ESTCOURT.[101]

Britons, who constant war, with factious rage, For liberty against each other wage, From foreign insult save this English stage. No more th' Italian squalling tribe admit, In tongues unknown; 'tis popery in wit.[102] The songs (theirselves confess) from Rome they bring, And 'tis high mass, for ought you know, they sing. Husbands take care, the danger may come nigher, The women say their eunuch is a friar.

But is it not a serious ill to see Europe's great arbiters so mean can be; Passive, with an affected joy to sit, Suspend their native taste of manly wit; Neglect their comic humour, tragic rage, For known defects of nature, and of age? Arise, for shame, ye conquering Britons rise, Such unadorned effeminacy despise; Admire (if you will dote on foreign wit) Not what Italians sing, but Romans writ. So shall less works, such as to-night's slight play, At your command with justice die away; Till then forgive your writers, that can't bear You should such very tramontanes appear, The nations which contemn you to revere.

Let Anna's soil be known for all its charms; As famed for liberal sciences, as arms: Let those derision meet, who would advance Manners or speech, from Italy or France. Let them learn you, who would your favour find, And English be the language of mankind.

_THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS._

"Illud genus narrationis, quod in personis positum est, debet habere sermones festivitatem, animorum dissimilitudinem, gravitatem, lenitatem, spem, metum, suspicionem, desiderium, dissimulationem, misericordiam, rerum varietates, fortunæ commutationem, insperatum incommodum, subitam letitiam, jucundum exitum rerum."[103]--CICERO, Rhetor. ad Herenn. Lib. i.

_The Conscious Lovers_, a Comedy which had been long in preparation, was acted at Drury Lane Theatre on November 7, 1722, "with new scenes and all the characters new drest," and with Booth (who had acted the part of Pamphilus--the prototype of young Bevil--at Westminster with great success), Wilks (Myrtle), Cibber (Tom), Mills (Sir John Bevil), Mrs. Oldfield (Indiana), and Mrs. Younger (Phillis) in the principal parts. The play ran for eighteen nights, and was a great success. It was often revived between 1722 and 1760, and was acted at Covent Garden in 1810, and at Bath in 1818. Phillis was Peg Woffington's second speaking character in Dublin, and she took that part on March 9, 1741, during her first season in London. The play was published by Tonson on December 1, 1722, with the date 1723 on the title-page. The general idea of the piece is taken from Terence's _Andria_, but the original is widely departed from after the opening scenes. Colley Cibber lent material aid in preparing the play for representation. It was attacked by John Dennis in two pamphlets, and defended by Benjamin Victor and others.

_To_

THE KING.

MAY IT PLEASE YOUR MAJESTY,

After having aspired to the highest and most laudable ambition, that of following the cause of liberty, I should not have humbly petitioned your Majesty for a direction of the theatre, had I not believed success in that province an happiness much to be wished by an honest man, and highly conducing to the prosperity of the commonwealth. It is in this view I lay before your Majesty a Comedy which the audience, in justice to themselves, has supported and encouraged, and is the prelude of what, by your Majesty's influence and favour, may be attempted in future representations.

The imperial mantle, the royal vestment, and the shining diadem are what strike ordinary minds; but your Majesty's native goodness, your passion for justice, and her constant assessor mercy, is what continually surrounds you in the view of intelligent spirits, and gives hope to the suppliant, who sees he has more than succeeded in giving your Majesty an opportunity of doing good. Our King is above the greatness of royalty, and every act of his will which makes another man happy has ten times more charms in it than one that makes himself appear raised above the condition of others. But even this carries unhappiness with it; for calm dominion, equal grandeur, and familiar greatness do not easily affect the imagination of the vulgar, who cannot see power but in terror; and as fear moves mean spirits, and love prompts great ones to obey, the insinuations of malcontents are directed accordingly; and the unhappy people are ensnared, from want of reflection, into disrespectful ideas of their gracious and amiable sovereign, and then only begin to apprehend the greatness of their master when they have incurred his displeasure.

As your Majesty was invited to the throne of a willing people, for their own sakes, and has ever enjoyed it with contempt of the ostentation of it, we beseech you to protect us who revere your title as we love your person. 'Tis to be a savage to be a rebel, and they who have fallen from you have not so much forfeited their allegiance as lost their humanity. And, therefore, if it were only to preserve myself from the imputation of being amongst the insensible and abandoned, I would beg permission in the most public manner possible to profess myself, with the utmost sincerity and zeal,

Sire,

Your Majesty's

Most devoted subject

And servant,

RICHARD STEELE.

THE PREFACE.[104]

This Comedy has been received with universal acceptance, for it was in every part excellently performed; and there needs no other applause of the actors but that they excelled according to the dignity and difficulty of the character they represented. But this great favour done to the work in acting renders the expectation still the greater from the author, to keep up the spirit in the representation of the closet, or any other circumstance of the reader, whether alone or in company; to which I can only say that it must be remembered, a play is to be seen, and is made to be represented with the advantage of action, nor can appear but with half the spirit without it. For the greatest effect of a play in reading is to excite the reader to go to see it; and when he does so, it is then a play has the effect of example and precept.

The chief design of this was to be an innocent performance, and the audience have abundantly shown how ready they are to support what is visibly intended that way. Nor do I make any difficulty to acknowledge that the whole was writ for the sake of the scene of the Fourth Act, wherein Mr. Bevil evades the quarrel with his friend, and[105] hope it may have some effect upon the Goths and Vandals that frequent the theatres, or a more polite audience may supply their absence.

But this incident, and the case of the father and daughter, are esteemed by some people no subjects of comedy; but I cannot be of their mind, for anything that has its foundation in happiness and success must be allowed to be the object of comedy; and sure it must be an improvement of it to introduce a joy too exquisite for laughter, that can have no spring but in delight, which is the case of this young lady. I must, therefore, contend that the tears which were shed on that occasion flowed from reason and good sense, and that men ought not to be laughed at for weeping till we are come to a more clear notion of what is to be imputed to the hardness of the head and the softness of the heart; and I think it was very politely said of Mr. Wilks, to one who told him there was a General[106] weeping for Indiana, "I'll warrant he'll fight ne'er the worse for that." To be apt to give way to the impressions of humanity, is the excellence of a right disposition and the natural working of a well-turned spirit. But as I have suffered by critics who have got no farther than to inquire whether they ought to be pleased or not,[107] I would willingly find them properer matter for their employment, and revive here a song which was omitted for want of a performer, and designed for the entertainment of Indiana. Signor Carbonelli,[108] instead of it, played[109] on the fiddle, and it is for want of a singer that such advantageous things are said of an instrument which were designed for a voice. The song is the distress of a love-sick maid, and may be a fit entertainment for some small critics[110] to examine whether the passion is just or the distress male or female.

I. From place to place forlorn I go, With downcast eyes a silent shade, Forbidden to declare my woe; To speak till spoken to, afraid.

II. My inward pangs, my secret grief, My soft consenting looks betray. He loves, but gives me no relief; Why speaks not he who may?

It remains to say a word concerning Terence, and I am extremely surprised to find what Mr. Cibber told me prove a truth:[111] that what I valued myself so much upon--the translation of him[112]--should be imputed to me as a reproach. Mr. Cibber's zeal for the work, his care and application in instructing the actors and altering the disposition of the scenes, when I was, through sickness, unable to cultivate such things myself, has been a very obliging favour and friendship to me. For this reason I was very hardly persuaded[113] to throw away Terence's celebrated funeral, and take only the bare authority of the young man's character; and how I have worked it into an Englishman, and made use of the same circumstances of discovering a daughter when we least hoped for one, is humbly submitted to the learned reader.

PROLOGUE.

_By_ MR. WELSTED.[114]

_Spoken by_ MR. WILKS.

To win your hearts and to secure your praise, The comic writers strive by various ways; By subtle stratagems they act their game, And leave untried no avenue to fame. One writes the spouse a beating from his wife, And says each stroke was copied from the life. Some fix all wit and humour in grimace, And make a livelihood of Pinkey's[115] face. Here, one gay show and costly habits tries, Confiding to the judgment of your eyes; Another smuts his scene (a cunning shaver), Sure of the rakes' and of the wenches' favour. Oft have these arts prevailed, and one may guess, If practised o'er again, would find success. But the bold sage--the poet of to-night-- By new and desperate rules resolved to write; Fain would he give more just applauses rise, And please by wit that scorns the aids of vice; The praise he seeks from worthier motives springs, Such praise as praise to those that give it brings.

Your aid most humbly sought, then, Britons lend, And liberal mirth like liberal men defend. No more let ribaldry, with licence writ, Usurp the name of eloquence or wit; No more let lawless farce uncensured go, The lewd dull gleanings of a Smithfield show.[116] 'Tis yours with breeding to refine the age, To chasten wit, and moralise the stage.

Ye modest, wise and good, ye fair, ye brave, To-night the champion of your virtues save; Redeem from long contempt the comic name, And judge politely for your country's fame.

_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._

Sir JOHN BEVIL.

Mr. SEALAND.

BEVIL, JUN., in love with INDIANA.

MYRTLE, in love with LUCINDA.

CIMBERTON, a Coxcomb.

HUMPHRY, an old Servant to Sir JOHN.

TOM, Servant to BEVIL, JUN.

DANIEL, a Country Boy, Servant to INDIANA.

MRS. SEALAND, second Wife to SEALAND.

ISABELLA, Sister to SEALAND.

INDIANA, SEALAND'S Daughter, by his first Wife.

LUCINDA, SEALAND'S Daughter, by his second Wife.

PHILLIS, Maid to LUCINDA.

SCENE.--LONDON.

_THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS._

ACT THE FIRST.