SCENE III.--LORD BRUMPTON'S _House.

LADY SHARLOT _discovered reading at a table;_ LADY HARRIOT _playing at a glass to and fro, and viewing herself._

_L. Ha._ Nay, good sage sister, you may as well talk to me [_Looking at herself as she speaks_], as sit staring at a book, which I know you can't attend. Good Dr. Lucas[22] may have writ there what he pleases, but there's no putting Francis Lord Hardy, now Earl of Brumpton, out of your head, or making him absent from your eyes; do but look at me now, and deny it if you can.

_L. Sh._ You are the maddest girl----[_Smiling._

_L. Ha._ Look ye, I knew you could not say it and forbear laughing [_Looking over_ SHARLOT]. Oh, I see his name as plain as you do--F--r--a--n Fran, c--i--s cis, Francis, 'tis in every line of the book.

_L. Sh._ [_Rising_] 'Tis in vain, I see, to mind anything in such impertinent company, but granting 'twere as you say as to my Lord Hardy, 'tis more excusable to admire another than one's self.

_L. Ha._ No, I think not; yes, I grant you than really to be vain at one's person, but I don't admire myself. Pish! I don't believe my eyes have that softness [_Looking in the glass_], they ain't so piercing. No, 'tis only stuff the men will be talking. Some people are such admirers of teeth. Lord, what signifies teeth? [_Showing her teeth._] A very black-a-moor has as white teeth as I. No, sister, I don't admire myself, but I've a spirit of contradiction in me; I don't know I'm in love myself, only to rival the men.

_L. Sh._ Ay, but Mr. Campley will gain ground even of that rival of his, your dear self.

_L. Ha._ Oh! what have I done to you, that you should name that insolent intruder, a confident opinionative fop. No indeed, if I am, as a poetical lover of mine sighed and sung of both sexes--

The public envy, and the public care,

I shan't be so easily catched--I thank him--I want but to be sure I should heartily torment him, by banishing him, and then consider whether he should depart this life, or not.

_L. Sh._ Indeed, sister, to be serious with you, this vanity in your humour does not at all become you!

_La. H._ Vanity! All the matter is we gay people are more sincere than you wise folks: All your life's an art. Speak your soul--look you there--[_Haling her to the glass_] are not you struck with a secret pleasure, when you view that bloom in your looks, that harmony in your shape, that promptitude of your mien?

_L. Sh._ Well, simpleton, if I am at first so silly, as to be a little taken with myself, I know it a fault, and take pains to correct it.

_L. Ha._ Pshaw! pshaw! talk this musty tale to old Mrs. Fardingale, 'tis too soon for me to think at that rate.

_L. Sh._ They that think it too soon to understand themselves, will very soon find it too late. But tell me honestly, don't you like Campley?

_L. Ha._ The fellow is not to be abhorred, if the forward thing did not think of getting me so easily. Oh! I hate a heart I can't break when I please. What makes the value of dear china, but that 'tis so brittle? Were it not for that, you might as well have stone mugs in your closet.

_L. Sh._ Hist, hist, here's Fardingale.

_Enter_ FARDINGALE.

_Far._ Lady Harriot, Lady Sharlot! I'll entertain you now, I've a new song just come hot out of the poet's brain. Lady Sharlot, my cousin Campley writ it, and 'tis set to a pretty air, I warrant you.

_L. Ha._ 'Tis like to be pretty indeed, of his writing. [_Flings away._

_Far._ Come, come, this is not one of your tringham trangham witty things, that your poor poets write; no, 'tis well known my cousin Campley has two thousand pounds a year. But this is all dissimulation in you.

_L. Sh._ 'Tis so, indeed, for your cousin's song is very pretty, Mrs. Fardingale.

[_Reads._]

Let not love on me bestow Soft distress and tender woe; I know none but substantial blisses, Eager glances, solid kisses; I know not what the lovers feign, Of finer pleasure mixed with pain. Then prithee give me, gentle boy, None of thy grief, but all thy joy.[23]

But Harriot thinks that a little unreasonable, to expect one without enduring t'other.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser._ There's your cousin Campley to wait on you without.

_Far._ Let him come in, we shall have the song now.

_Enter_ CAMPLEY.

_Cam._ Ladies, your most obedient servant; your servant, Lady Sharlot--servant Lady Harriot--[HARRIOT _looks grave upon him_] What's the matter, dear Lady Harriot, not well? I protest to you I'm mightily concerned [_Pulls out a bottle_]. This is a most excellent spirit, snuff it up, madam.

_L. Ha._ Pish--the familiar coxcomb frets me heartily.

_Cam._ 'Twill over, I hope, immediately.

_L. Sh._ Your cousin Fardingale has shown us some of your poetry; there's the spinet, Mr. Campley, I know you're musical.

_Cam._ She should not have called it my poetry.

_Far._ No--who waits there--pray bring my lute out of the next room.

_Enter_ SERVANT _with a Lute._

You must know I conned this song before I came in, and find it will go to an excellent air of old Mr. Lawes's[24], who was my mother's intimate acquaintance; my mother's, what do I talk of? I mean my grandmother's. Oh, here's the lute; cousin Campley, hold the song upon your hat.--[_Aside to him_] 'Tis a pretty gallantry to a relation.

[_Sings and Squalls._]

Let not love, &c.

Oh! I have left off these things many a day.

_Cam._ No; I profess, madam, you do it admirably, but are not assured enough. Take it higher [_in her own squall_]. Thus--I know your voice will bear it.

_L. Ha._ O hideous! O the gross flatterer--I shall burst. Mrs. Fardingale, pray go on, the music fits the words most aptly. Take it higher, as your cousin advises.

_Far._ Oh! dear madam, do you really like it? I do it purely to please you, for I can't sing, alas!

_L. Sh._ We know it, good madam, we know it. But pray----

_Far._ "Let not love," and "substantial blisses," is lively enough, and ran accordingly in the tune. [_Curtsies to the company._] Now I took it higher.

_L. Ha._ Incomparably done! Nothing can equal it, except your cousin sang his own poetry.

_Cam._ Madam, from my Lord Hardy. [_Delivers a letter to_ LADY SHARLOT.]--How do you say, my Lady Harriot, except I sing it myself? Then I assure you I will----

_L. Sh._ I han't patience. I must go read my letter. [_Exit._

_Cam._ [_Sings_] Let not love, &c.

_Far._ Bless me, what's become of Lady Sharlot? [_Exit._

_L. Ha._ Mrs. Fardingale, Mrs. Fardingale, what, must we lose you? [_Going after her._

CAMPLEY _runs to the door, takes the key out, and locks her in._

What means this insolence? a plot upon me--Do you know who I am?

_Cam._ Yes, madam, you're my Lady Harriot Lovely, with ten thousand pounds in your pocket; and I am Mr. Campley, with two thousand a year, of quality enough to pretend to you. And I do design, before I leave this room, to hear you talk like a reasonable woman, as nature has made you. Nay, 'tis in vain to flounce, and discompose yourself and your dress.

_L. Ha._ If there are swords, if they are men of honour, and not all dastards, cowards that pretend to this injured person----[_Running round the room._

_Cam._ Ay, ay, madam, let 'em come. That's putting me in my way, fighting's my trade; but you've used all mankind too ill to expect so much service. In short, madam, were you a fool I should not desire to expostulate with you. [_Seizing her hand._] But----

_L. Ha._ Unhand me, ravisher. [_Pulls her hand from him, chases round the room,_ CAMPLEY _after her._

_Cam._ But madam, madam, madam, why madam!

Prithee Cynthia look behind you, [_Sings._ Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you.

_L. Ha._ Age, wrinkles, small-pox, nay, anything that's most abhorrent to youth and bloom, were welcome in the place of so detested a creature.

_Cam._ No such matter, Lady Harriot. I would not be a vain coxcomb, but I know I am not detestable, nay, know where you've said as much before you understood me for your servant. Was I immediately transformed because I became your lover?

_L. Ha._ My lover, sir! did I ever give you reason to think I admitted you as such?

_Cam._ Yes, you did in your using me ill; for if you did not assume upon the score of my pretending to you, how do you answer to yourself some parts of your behaviour to me as a gentleman? 'Tis trivial, all this, in you, and derogates from the good sense I know you mistress of. Do but consider, madam, I have long loved you, bore with your fantastic humour through all its mazes. Nay, do not frown, for 'tis no better. I say I have bore with this humour, but would you have me with an unmanly servitude feed it? No, I love you with too sincere, too honest a devotion, and would have your mind as faultless as your person, which 'twould be, if you'd lay aside this vanity of being pursued with sighs, with flatteries, with nonsense [_She walks about less violently, but more confused._]--Oh! my heart aches at the disturbance which I give her, but she must not see it. [_Aside._]--Had I not better tell you of it now, than when your are in my power? I should be then too generous to thwart your inclination.

_L. Ha._ That is indeed very handsomely said. Why should I not obey reason as soon as I see it? [_Aside._]--Since so, Mr. Campley, I can as ingenuously as I should then, acknowledge that I have been in an error. [_Looking down on her fan._

_Cam._ Nay, that's too great a condescension. Oh! excellence! I repent! I see 'twas but justice in you to demand my knees [_kneeling_], my sighs, my constant, tenderest regard and service. And you shall have 'em, since you are above 'em.

_L. Ha._ Nay, Mr. Campley, you won't recall me to a fault you have so lately shown me. I will not suffer this--no more ecstasies! But pray, sir, what was't you did to get my sister out of the room?

_Cam._ You may know it, and I must desire you to assist my Lord Hardy there, who writ to her by me; for he is no ravisher, as you called me just now. He is now in the house, and I would fain gain an interview.

_L. Ha._ That they may have, but they'll make little use of it; for the tongue is the instrument of speech to us of a lower form: They are of that high order of lovers, who know none but eloquent silence, and can utter themselves only by a gesture that speaks their passion inexpressible, and what not fine things.

_Cam._ But pray let's go into your sister's closet while they are together.

_L. Ha._ I swear I don't know how to see my sister--she'll laugh me to death to see me out of my pantofles,[25] and you and I thus familiar. However, I know she'll approve it.

_Cam._ You may boast yourself an heroine to her, and the first woman that was ever vanquished by hearing truth, and had sincerity enough to receive so rough an obligation as being made acquainted with her faults. Come, madam, stand your ground bravely, we'll march in to her thus. [_She leaning on_ CAMPLEY.

_L. Ha._ Who'll believe a woman's anger more? I've betrayed the whole sex to you, Mr. Campley. [_Exeunt._

_Re-enter_ LORD HARDY _and_ CAMPLEY.

_Cam._ My lord, her sister, who now is mine, will immediately send her hither. But be yourself: Charge her bravely. I wish she were a cannon, an eighteen-pounder, for your sake. Then I know, were there occasion, you'd be in the mouth of her.

_Ld. H._ I long, yet fear to see her. I know I am unable to utter myself.

_Cam._ Come, retire here till she appears. [_They go back to the door._

_Enter_ LADY SHARLOT.

_L. Sh._ Now is the tender moment now approaching. [_Aside._] There he is. [_They approach and salute each other trembling._] Your lordship will please to sit. [_After a very long pause, stolen glances, and irresolute gesture._] Your lordship, I think, has travelled those parts of Italy where the armies are.

_Ld. H._ Yes, madam.

_L. Sh._ I think I have letters from you, dated Mantua.

_Ld. H._ I hope you have, madam, and that their purpose----

_L. Sh._ My lord? [_Looking serious and confused._

_Ld. H._ Was not your ladyship going to say something?

_L. Sh._ I only attended to what your lordship was going to say--That is, my lord--But you were, I believe, going to say something of that garden of the world, Italy. I am very sorry your misfortunes in England are such as make you justly regret your leaving that place.

_Ld. H._ There is a person in England may make those losses insensible to me.

_L. Sh._ Indeed, my lord, there have so very few of quality attended his Majesty in the war, that your birth and merit may well hope for his favour.

_Ld. H._ I have, indeed, all the zeal in the world for his Majesty's service, and most grateful affection for his person, but did not then mean him.

_L. Sh._ But can you indeed impartially say that our island is really preferable to the rest of the world, or is it an arrogance only in us to think so?

_Ld. H._ I profess, madam, that little I have seen has but more endeared England to me; for that medley of humours which perhaps distracts our public affairs, does, methinks, improve our private lives, and makes conversation more various, and consequently more pleasing. Everywhere else both men and things have the same countenance. In France you meet much civility and little friendship; in Holland, deep attention, but little reflection; in Italy, all pleasure, but no mirth. But here with us, where you have everywhere pretenders or masters in everything, you can't fall into company wherein you shall not be instructed or diverted.

_L. Sh._ I never had an account of anything from you, my lord, but I mourned the loss of my brother; you would have been so happy a companion for him, with that right sense of yours. My lord, you need not bow so obsequiously, for I do you but justice. But you sent me word of your seeing a lady in Italy very like me. Did you visit her often?

_Ld. H._ Once or twice, but I observed her so loose a creature, that I could have killed her for having your person.

_L. Sh._ I thank you, sir; but Heaven that preserves me unlike her, will, I hope, make her more like me. But your fellow traveller--his relations themselves know not a just account of him.

_Ld. H._ The original cause of his fever was a violent passion for a fine young woman he had not power to speak to, but I told her his regard for her as passionately as possible.

_L. Sh._ You were to him what Mr. Campley has been to you--Whither am I running?--Poor, your friend--poor gentleman----

_Ld. H._ I hope then as Campley's eloquence is greater, so has been his success.

_L. Sh._ My lord?

_Ld. H._ Your ladyship's----

_Enter_ LADY HARRIOT.

_L. Ha._ Undone! Undone! Tattleaid has found, by some means or other, that Campley brought my Lord Hardy hither; we are utterly ruined, my lady's coming.

_Ld. H._ I'll stay and confront her.

_L. Sh._ It must not be; we are too much in her power.

_Enter_ CAMPLEY.

_Cam._ Come, come, my lord, we're routed horse and foot. Down the back stairs, and so out.

_Ladies._ Ay, ay. [_Exeunt._

_L. Ha._ I tremble every joint of me.

_L. Sh._ I'm at a stand a little, but rage will recover me; she's coming in.

_Enter_ WIDOW.

_Wid._ Ladies, your servant. I fear I interrupt you; have you company? Lady Harriot, your servant; Lady Sharlot, your servant. What, not a word? Oh, I beg your ladyship's pardon. Lady Sharlot, did I say? My young Lady Brumpton, I wish you joy.

_L. Sh._ Oh, your servant, Lady Dowager Brumpton. That's an appellation of much more joy to you.

_Wid._ So smart, madam! but you should, methinks, have made one acquainted--Yet, madam, your conduct is seen through.

_L. Sh._ My conduct, Lady Brumpton!

_Wid._ Your conduct, Lady Sharlot! [_Coming up to each other._

_L. Sh._ Madam, 'tis you are seen through all your thin disguises.

_Wid._ I seen? By whom?

_L. Sh._ By an all-piercing eye, nay, by what you much more fear, the eye of the world. The world sees you, or shall see you. It shall know your secret intemperance, your public fasting--Loose poems in your closet, an homily on your toilet--Your easy, skilful, practised hypocrisy, by which you wrought upon your husband, basely to transfer the trust and ward of us, two helpless virgins, into the hands and care of--I cannot name it. You're a wicked woman.

_L. Ha._ [_Aside._] O rare sister! 'Tis a fine thing to keep one's anger in stock by one. We that are angry and pleased every half-hour have nothing at all of all this high-flown fury! Why, she rages like a princess in a tragedy! Blessings on her tongue.

_Wid._ Is this the effect of your morning lectures, your self-examination, all this fury?

_L. Sh._ Yes it is, madam; if I take pains to govern my passions, it shall not give licence to others to govern them for me.

_Wid._ Well, Lady Sharlot, however you ill deserve it of me, I shall take care, while there are locks and bars, to keep you from Lord Hardy--from being a leager lady, from carrying a knapsack.

_L. Sh._ Knapsack! Do you upbraid the poverty your own wicked arts have brought him to? Knapsack! O grant me patience! Can I hear this of the man I love? Knapsack! I have not words. [_Stamps about the room._

_Wid._ I leave you to cool upon it; love and anger are very warm passions. [_Exit._

_L. Ha._ She has locked us in.

_L. Sh._ Knapsack? Well, I will break walls to go to him. I could sit down and cry my eyes out! Dear sister, what a rage have I been in? Knapsack! I'll give vent to my just resentment. Oh, how shall I avoid this base woman; how meet that excellent man! What an helpless condition are you and I in now! If we run into the world, that youth and innocence which should demand assistance does but attract invaders. Will Providence guard us? How do I see that our sex is naturally indigent of protection! I hope 'tis in fate to crown our loves; for 'tis only in the protection of men of honour that we are naturally truly safe--

And woman's happiness, for all her scorn, Is only by that side whence she was born.

ACT THE THIRD.