SCENE II.

_Another Apartment._

_Enter_ BALANCE _and_ SYLVIA.

_Syl._ Whilst there is life there is hope, sir; perhaps my brother may recover.

_Bal._ We have but little reason to expect it; the doctor acquaints me here, that before this comes to my hands he fears I shall have no son.--Poor Owen! but the decree is just; I was pleased with the death of my father, because he left me an estate; and now I am punished with the loss of an heir to inherit mine. I must now look upon you as the only hopes of my family; and I expect that the augmentation of your fortune will give you fresh thoughts and new prospects.

_Syl._ My desire in being punctual in my obedience, requires that you would be plain in your commands, sir.

_Bal._ The death of your brother makes you sole heiress to my estate, which you know is about three thousand pounds a year: this fortune gives you a fair claim to quality and a title: you must set a just value upon yourself, and, in plain terms, think no more of Captain Plume.

_Syl._ You have often commended the gentleman, sir.

_Bal._ And I do so still; he's a very pretty fellow; but though I liked him well enough for a bare son-in-law, I don't approve of him for an heir to my estate and family; five thousand pounds indeed I might trust in his hands, and it might do the young fellow a kindness; but--od's my life! three thousand pounds a year would ruin him, quite turn his brain--A captain of foot worth three thousand pounds a year! 'tis a prodigy in nature!

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

_Serv._ Sir, here's one with a letter below for your worship, but he will deliver it into no hands but your own.

_Bal._ Come, show me the messenger. [_Exit with_ SERVANT.

_Syl._ Make the dispute between love and duty, and I am prince Prettyman exactly.--If my brother dies, ah, poor brother! if he lives, ah, poor sister! It is bad both ways, I'll try it again--Follow my own inclinations, and break my father's heart; or obey his commands, and break my own? Worse and worse.--Suppose I take it thus: A moderate fortune, a pretty fellow, and a pad; or a fine estate, a coach and six, and an ass.--That will never do neither.

_Enter_ BALANCE _and a_ SERVANT.

_Bal._ Put four horses to the coach. [_To a_ SERVANT, _who goes out_.] Ho, Sylvia!

_Syl._ Sir.

_Bal._ How old were you when your mother died?

_Syl._ So young that I don't remember I ever had one; and you have been so careful, so indulgent to me since, that indeed I never wanted one.

_Bal._ Have I ever denied you any thing you asked of me?

_Syl._ Never, that I remember.

_Bal._ Then, Sylvia, I must beg that once in your life you would grant me a favour.

_Syl._ Why should you question it, sir?

_Bal._ I don't; but I would rather counsel than command. I don't propose this with the authority of a parent, but as the advice of your friend, that you would take the coach this moment, and go into the country.

_Syl._ Does this advice, sir, proceed from the contents of the letter you received just now?

_Bal._ No matter; I will be with you in three or four days, and then give my reasons: but before you go, I expect you will make me one solemn promise.

_Syl._ Propose the thing, sir.

_Bal._ That you will never dispose of yourself to any man without my consent.

_Syl._ I promise.

_Bal._ Very well; and to be even with you, I promise I never will dispose of you without your own consent: and so, Sylvia, the coach is ready. Farewell. [_Leads her to the Door, and returns._] Now, she's gone, I'll examine the contents of this letter a little nearer. [_Reads._

SIR,

_My intimacy with Mr. Worthy has drawn a secret from him, that he had from his friend Captain Plume; and my friendship and relation to your family oblige me to give you timely notice of it. The captain has dishonourable designs upon my cousin Sylvia. Evils of this nature are more easily prevented than amended; and that you would immediately send my cousin into the country, is the advice of_, _Sir, your humble servant_,

MELINDA.

Why, the devil's in the young fellows of this age; they are ten times worse than they were in my time: had he made my daughter a whore, and forswore it, like a gentleman, I could almost have pardoned it; but to tell tales beforehand is monstrous.--Hang it! I can fetch down a woodcock or a snipe, and why not a hat and cockade? I have a case of good pistols, and have a good mind to try.

_Enter_ WORTHY.

Worthy, your servant.

_Wor._ I'm sorry, sir, to be the messenger of ill news.

_Bal._ I apprehend it, sir; you have heard that my son Owen is past recovery.

_Wor._ My letters say he's dead, sir.

_Bal._ He's happy, and I am satisfied: the stroke of Heaven I can bear; but injuries from men, Mr. Worthy, are not so easily supported.

_Wor._ I hope, sir, you are under no apprehensions of wrong from any body.

_Bal._ You know I ought to be.

_Wor._ You wrong my honour, in believing I could know any thing to your prejudice, without resenting it as much as you should.

_Bal._ This letter, sir, which I tear in pieces, to conceal the person that sent it, informs me that Plume has a design upon Sylvia, and that you are privy to it.

_Wor._ Nay, then, sir, I must do myself justice, and endeavour to find out the author. [_Takes up a Bit._]--Sir, I know the hand, and if you refuse to discover the contents, Melinda shall tell me. [_Going._

_Bal._ Hold, sir; the contents I have told you already; only with this circumstance--that her intimacy with Mr. Worthy had drawn the secret from him.

_Wor._ Her intimacy with me! Dear sir! let me pick up the pieces of this letter, 'twill give me such a power over her pride to have her own an intimacy under her hand.--This was the luckiest accident! [_Gathering up the Letter._] The aspersion, sir, was nothing but malice; the effect of a little quarrel between her and Mrs. Sylvia.

_Bal._ Are you sure of that, sir?

_Wor._ Her maid gave me the history of part of the battle just now, as she overheard it: but I hope, sir, your daughter has suffered nothing upon the account.

_Bal._ No, no, poor girl! she's so afflicted with the news of her brother's death, that, to avoid company, she begged leave to go into the country.

_Wor._ And is she gone?

_Bal._ I could not refuse her, she was so pressing; the coach went from the door the minute before you came.

_Wor._ So pressing to be gone, sir?--I find her fortune will give her the same airs with Melinda, and then Plume and I may laugh at one another.

_Bal._ Like enough; women are as subject to pride as men are; and why mayn't great women as well as great men forget their old acquaintance? But come, where's this young fellow? I love him so well, it would break the heart of me to think him a rascal.--I am glad my daughter's gone fairly off though.--[_Aside._] Where does the captain quarter?

_Wor._ At Horton's; I am to meet him there two hours hence, and we should be glad of your company.

_Bal._ Your pardon, dear Worthy! I must allow a day or two to the death of my son. The decorum of mourning is what we owe the world, because they pay it to us; afterwards I'm yours over a bottle, or how you will.

_Wor._ Sir, I'm your humble servant. [_Exeunt apart._