SCENE I.

_ALSCRIP's Room._

_CHIGNON alone._

_Chignon._ Que diable veut dire tout ca----vat devil, all dis mean?--Monsieur Alscrip enrage----Mademoiselle Alscrip fly about like de dancing fury at de Opera----My littel musicienne, shut up, and in de absence of madame, I keep de key of de littel bastille----By gad, I vou'd rader have de custody of my pretty prisoniere than the whole college of cardinals----but vat have we here?

_Enter SIR CLEMENT and CLIFFORD._

_Sir C._ [_Speaking to a SERVANT._] Mr. Alscrip not at home, no matter we'll wait his return----The French valet de chambre [_To CLIFFORD._]--It may be of use to make acquaintance with him--Monsieur, how do you like this country?

_Chignon._ Ver good contree, sire, by and bye--when you grow a little more poor.

_Sir C._ Is that a Parisian rule for improvement?

_Chignon._ Yes, sir, and we help you to follow our example--In good times you hang, and you drown--In bad time you will be like us.--Alway poor--alway gay--forget your politics--laugh at your grievances--take your snuff, vive la dissipation,--ver good country.

_Sir C._ Thanks for your kind advice, monsieur, you Frenchmen are so obliging, and so communicative to strangers----I hear there is a young lady come into this family--we don't exactly know in what capacity--could not you contrive that she should pass through this room--or--

_Chignon._ [_Aside._] By gar here be one more old rake after de littel musicienne.

_Sir C._ Only for curiosity,--we never saw her, and have particular reasons--

[_Gives Money._

_Chignon._ Ma foi, your reasons be ver expressive--[_Aside._]--but vat devil shall I do--open the cage of my little Rosignol--my pretty nightingale--no. Chignon--no--[_Looking out._] ah, hah; La Tiffany----Now for de politique----be-gar I undertake your business--and make you de dupe of de performance.

[_Exit with a sign to SIR CLEMENT._

_Sir C._ So--Clifford--There goes as disinterested a fellow now as any in Europe. But hark you--Can you yet guess the purpose for which I brought you here?

_Cliff._ I profess, sir, I am in the dark. If it concerns Lord Gayville's secret.

_Sir C._ Namely, that this dulcinea has started up in the shape of Miss Alscrip's musical companion--Her name is Alton. [_Leering._] I tell it you, because I am sure you are not acquainted with it.

_Cliff._ Sir, you will not know me.--

_Sir C._ Tut, tut, don't do me such injustice----Come, all delicacy being over, by my having made the discovery, will you talk to this girl?

_Cliff._ For what end, sir?

_Sir C._ If you state yourself as Lord Gayville's friend, she will converse with you more readily, than she would with me--Try her--find out what she is really at. If she has no hold upon him but her person, I shall be easy.

_Cliff._ Sir, let my compliance convince you how much I wish to oblige you. If I can get a sight of this wonder, I promise to give you my faithful opinion of my friend's danger.

_Enter CHIGNON, and makes a sign to SIR CLEMENT, that the Person he inquired after is coming._

_Sir C._ Leave her with this gentleman----Come, monsieur, you shall show me the new room.

[_Exit._

_Chignon._ [_Aside._] Vid dis gentleman--Vid all my heart--La Tiffany vill answer his purpose, and mine too.

[_Exit._

[_CLIFFORD is looking at the Furniture of the Room._

_Enter TIFFANY._

_Tiff._ What does the Frenchman mean by gentlemen wanting me, and his gibberish of making soft eyes----I hope I know the exercise of my eyes without his instruction--hah! I vow, a clever looking man.

_Cliff._ 'Faith, a pretty attracting countenance--but for that apprehensive and timid look--that awe impressing modesty, my friend so forcibly described. [_TIFFANY adjusts herself, and pulls up._]--[_Aside._] Her silence marks diffidence; deuce take me if I know how to begin, for fear of offending her reserve.

_Tiff._ [_Aside._] I have been told pertness became me--I'll try, I'm resolved. [_To him._] I hear, sir, you had something to say to a young person in this house--that--that--[_Looking down at the same time archly._] I could not but take the description to myself--I am ready to hear any thing a gentleman has to say.

_Cliff._ [_Aside._] Thank my stars, my scruples are relieved!

_Tiff._ Am I mistaken, sir? Pray, whom was you inquiring after?

_Cliff._ Oh! certainly you, my pretty stranger. A friend of mine has been robbed of his heart, and I see the felony in your looks. Will you confess, or must I arrest you?

_Tiff._ Innocent, sir, in fact, but not quite so in inclination--I hope your own is safe?

_Cliff._ And were it not, my smart unconscionable, would you run away with that also?

_Tiff._ Oh, yes, and a hundred more; and melt them all down together, as the Jews do stolen goods, to prevent their being reclaimed.

_Cliff._ [_Aside._] Astonishing! Have I hit upon the moment when her fancy outruns her art! But are you really the young lady, that's admitted into this family, as companion to Miss Alscrip?

_Tiff._ Sir, if you mean the young lady, who, however undeservingly, is flatteringly called the flower of this family--who sometimes extracts notice from these windows; and to be sure has been followed home by gentlemen against her inclinations--sir, you are not mistaken.

_Cliff._ [_Aside._] Sure it has been Gayville's madness or amusement then to describe her by contraries.

_Tiff._ I hope, sir, you are not offended? I would not be impertinent, though I am not so tasteless as to be shy.

_Cliff._ Offended, my dear? I am quite charmed, I assure you. And so without further shyness on either part, let us be free upon the subject I had to talk over with you. You surely are not looking to lasting connexions?

_Tiff._ [_With airs._] Sir, I don't understand you--I am not what you suppose, I assure you--Connexions indeed--I should never have thought of that--my character--my behaviour; connexions, I don't know what the word signifies.

_Sir C._ [_Without._] Clifford--are you ready?

_Cliff._ I am at your orders, sir.

_Tiff._ [_Aside._] Deuce take this interruption!

_Sir Clement._ [_Without._] I shall not wait for Mr. Alscrip any longer.

_Tiff._ [_Aside._] Lud, lud, he, gives me no time to come round again. [_Runs up to him confusedly._] It's very true, sir, I would not do such a thing for the world, but you are a man of honour, and I am sure would not give bad advice to a poor girl who is but a novice--and so, sir, [_Hears SIR CLEMENT entering._] put your proposal in writing, and you may depend on having an answer.

[_Runs out._

_Enter SIR CLEMENT._

_Sir C._ Well, Clifford, what do you think of her?

_Cliff._ Make yourself perfectly easy, sir: This girl, when known, can make no impression on Lord Gayville's mind; and I doubt not but a silk-gown and a lottery-ticket, had they been offered as an ultimatum, would have purchased her person.

_Sir C._ [_With a dry sneer._] Don't you sometimes Clifford, form erroneous opinions of people's pretensions? Interest and foolish passion inspire strange notions--as one or the other prevails, we are brought to look so low, or so high--

_Cliff._ [_With emotion._] That we are compelled to call reason and honour to our aid----

_Sir C._ And then----

_Cliff._ We lose the intemperance of our inclinations in the sense of what is right.

_Sir C._ [_Aside._] Sententious impostor!--[_To him._] But to the point.

_Cliff._ Sir, I would please you if I could--I am thinking of a scheme to restore Lord Gayville to his senses, without violence or injury to any one of the parties.

_Sir C._ Let me hear it.

_Cliff._ Why, the wench being cut short of marketing by word of mouth, desired me to write proposals. I am inclined to do so. We will show the answer to Lord Gayville, and, depend upon it, there will be character enough displayed to cure him of the sentimental part of his attachment.

_Sir. C._ I like your idea--Sit down, and put it into execution immediately----[_CLIFFORD writes._]----[_To himself._] He is quick at invention--has a pretty turn at profession--A proud and peremptory show of honour would overpower prejudices. Thank Heaven, my opinions of knavery are convictions!

_Cliff._ [_Writing._] I am sorry to detain you, sir.

_Sir C._ [_Looking at the Furniture._] Oh! I am amusing myself better than you think--Indulging an edifying contemplation among the tombs of departed estates--[_Looking round the Furniture, viz. Closets, that show old Writings, tied up; Shelves with Boxes, labelled Mortgages, Lease and Release, &c._] What mouldered skins, that will never see day-light again, and that, with a good herald, would vie with Westminster Abbey in holiday entertainment. For instance, now, what have we here?--Hah! The last remains of Fatland Priory--Once of great monastic importance: A proverb of pride, sloth, and hypocrisy. After the Reformation, the seat of old English hospitality and benevolence--In the present century, altered, adorned, pulled down, and the materials sold by auction.

_Cliff._ Edifying, indeed, sir; your comments are not lost.

_Sir C._ Here lie, undisturbed, in dust, the relics of Court Baron Castle, granted, at the Conquest, to the family of Loftimount. The last of this ancient race, having won twenty-seven king's plates, and represented the county in six parliaments, after many struggles, died of the pistol fever. A disconsolate annuitant inscribed this box to his memory.--Well, Clifford, have you done?

_Cliff._ Yes, sir.

[_Reads, as if to himself._

_You have captivated a young man of rank and fortune, but you are discovered, and his ruin and yours would be the consequence of pursuing any designs, that could impede his proposed marriage with Miss Alscrip.--Throw yourself upon the generosity of his family, and your fortune's made.--Send your answer (and let it be immediate) to me, at Sir Clement Flint's house._

_Yours, &c. &c._ HENRY CLIFFORD.

[_CLIFFORD folds the Letter._

_Sir C._ Our French friend is the man to deliver it, and to bring the answer. I am going home; you'll overtake me.

[_Exit._

_Enter CHIGNON._

_Cliff._ [_Sealing the Letter._] You come apropos, monsieur. [_Gives the Letter with an Air of Mystery._] Have the goodness to put this letter into Miss Alton's own hands.

_Chignon._ [_To himself._] Mademoiselle Alton! Peste! My trick has not passed.

_Cliff._ To Miss Alton by herself--I am in all the secret.

_Chignon._ [_To himself._] Devil take Tiffany, for making you so wise.

_Cliff._ And you serve your lady, when you serve me with Miss Alton--Monsieur, an answer as quick as possible--You will find me at Sir Clement Flint's--it is only in the next street--and--you understand me--[_Shaking his Purse._]--Alerte, monsieur.

[_Exit._

_Chignon._ Understand you!--Oui da! you talk de language universal. [_Imitating his shaking the Purse._] J'entre vois, I begin to see something--By gad, I vill give de letter, ami try de inclination of Mademoiselle la Musicienne--if dis be de duette she vill play, it take her out of the vay of Alscrip, of Gayville, and of myself also--Voila le malheur--there--de misfortune--eh bien--when love and interest come across--alway prefer de interest for to-day, and take de chance of de love to-morrow--dat is de humour of France.

[_Exit._