The Rivals - Richard Brinsley Sheridan (bearly read books .TXT) 📗

any court in Christendom.

LUCY
Ah! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how she talks of you!

Sir LUCIUS
Oh, tell her I'll make her the best husband in the world, and Lady
O'Trigger into the bargain!—But we must get the old gentlewoman's
consent—and do every thing fairly.

LUCY
Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't rich enough to be so nice!

Sir LUCIUS Upon my word, young woman, you have hit it:—I am so poor, that I can't afford to do a dirty action.—If I did not want money, I'd steal your mistress and her fortune with a great deal of pleasure.—However, my pretty girl, [Gives her money] here's a little something to buy you a ribbon; and meet me in the evening, and I'll give you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss beforehand to put you in mind. [Kisses her.]

LUCY O Lud! Sir Lucius—I never seed such a gemman! My lady won't like you if you're so impudent.

Sir LUCIUS Faith she will, Lucy!—That same—pho! what's the name of it?—modesty—is a quality in a lover more praised by the women than liked; so, if your mistress asks you whether Sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty—my dear.

LUCY
What, would you have me tell her a lie?

Sir LUCIUS
Ah, then, you baggage! I'll make it a truth presently.

LUCY
For shame now! here is some one coming.

Sir LUCIUS
Oh, faith, I'll quiet your conscience! [Exit, humming a tune.]

[Enter FAG.]

FAG
So, so, ma'am! I humbly beg pardon.

LUCY
O Lud! now, Mr. Fag—you flurry one so.

FAG Come, come, Lucy, here's no one by—so a little less simplicity, with a grain or two more sincerity, if you please.—You play false with us, madam.—I saw you give the baronet a letter.—My master shall know this—and if he don't call him out, I will.

LUCY Ha! ha! ha! you gentlemen's gentlemen are so hasty.—That letter was from Mrs. Malaprop, simpleton.—She is taken with Sir Lucius's address.

FAG How! what tastes some people have!—Why, I suppose I have walked by her window a hundred times.—But what says our young lady? any message to my master?

LUCY Sad news. Mr. Fag.—A worse rival than Acres! Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed his son.

FAG
What, Captain Absolute?

LUCY
Even so—I overheard it all.

FAG Ha! ha! ha! very good, faith. Good-bye, Lucy, I must away with this news.

LUCY
Well, you may laugh—but it is true, I assure you.—[Going.] But, Mr.
Fag, tell your master not to be cast down by this.

FAG
Oh, he'll be so disconsolate!

LUCY
And charge him not to think of quarrelling with young Absolute.

FAG
Never fear! never fear!

LUCY
Be sure—bid him keep up his spirits.

FAG
We will—we will.

[Exeunt severally.]

* * * * * * * * * * *

ACT III

* * * * * * *

Scene I—The North Parade. [Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

ABSOLUTE 'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. Whimsical enough, faith! My father wants to force me to marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with! He must not know of my connection with her yet awhile. He has too summary a method of proceeding in these matters. However, I'll read my recantation instantly. My conversion is something sudden, indeed—but I can assure him it is very sincere. So, so—here he comes. He looks plaguy gruff. [Steps aside.]

[Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.]

Sir ANTHONY No—I'll die sooner than forgive him. Die, did I say? I'll live these fifty years to plague him. At our last meeting, his impudence had almost put me out of temper. An obstinate, passionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take after? This is my return for getting him before all his brothers and sisters!—for putting him, at twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, ever since! But I have done with him; he's anybody's son for me. I never will see him more, never—never—never.

ABSOLUTE
[Aside, coming forward.] Now for a penitential face.

Sir ANTHONY
Fellow, get out of my way!

ABSOLUTE
Sir, you see a penitent before you.

Sir ANTHONY
I see an impudent scoundrel before me.

ABSOLUTE A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to acknowledge my error, and to submit entirely to your will.

Sir ANTHONY
What's that?

ABSOLUTE I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me.

Sir ANTHONY
Well, sir?

ABSOLUTE I have been likewise weighing and balancing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority.

Sir ANTHONY
Well, puppy?

ABSOLUTE Why then, sir, the result of my reflections is—a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my own to your satisfaction.

Sir ANTHONY Why now you talk sense—absolute sense—I never heard anything more sensible in my life. Confound you! you shall be Jack again.

ABSOLUTE
I am happy in the appellation.

Sir ANTHONY Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented my telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture—prepare. What think you of Miss Lydia Languish?

ABSOLUTE
Languish! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire?

Sir ANTHONY
Worcestershire! no. Did you never meet Mrs. Malaprop and her niece,
Miss Languish, who came into our country just before you were last
ordered to your regiment?

ABSOLUTE
Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the names
before. Yet, stay—I think I do recollect something. Languish!
Languish! She squints, don't she? A little red-haired girl?

Sir ANTHONY
Squints! A red-haired girl! Zounds! no.

ABSOLUTE
Then I must have forgot; it can't be the same person.

Sir ANTHONY
Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen?

ABSOLUTE As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. If I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire.

Sir ANTHONY Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion; and if not smiling, more sweetly pouting; more lovely in sullenness!

ABSOLUTE
[Aside.] That's she, indeed. Well done, old gentleman.

Sir ANTHONY
Then, Jack, her neck! O Jack! Jack!

ABSOLUTE
And which is to be mine, sir, the niece, or the aunt?

Sir ANTHONY Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I despise you! When I was of your age, such a description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt indeed! Odds life! when I ran away with your mother, I would not have touched anything old or ugly to gain an empire.

ABSOLUTE
Not to please your father, sir?

Sir ANTHONY To please my father! zounds! not to please—Oh, my father—odd so!—yes—yes; if my father indeed had desired—that's quite another matter. Though he wa'n't the indulgent father that I am, Jack.

ABSOLUTE
I dare say not, sir.

Sir ANTHONY
But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful?

ABSOLUTE Sir, I repeat it—if I please you in this affair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being handsome; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before hinted something about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more graces of that kind—now, without being very nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back: and though one eye may be very agreeable, yet as the prejudice has always run in favour of two, I would not wish to affect a singularity in that article.

Sir ANTHONY What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why, sirrah, you're an anchorite!—a vile, insensible stock. You a soldier!—you're a walking block, fit only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds life! I have a great mind to marry the girl myself!

ABSOLUTE I am entirely at your disposal, sir: if you should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you would have me marry the aunt; or if you should change your mind, and take the old lady—'tis the same to me—I'll marry the niece.

Sir ANTHONY Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either a very great hypocrite, or—but, come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie—I'm sure it must—come, now—damn your demure face!—come, confess Jack—you have been lying, ha'n't you? You have been playing the hypocrite, hey!—I'll never forgive you, if you ha'n't been lying and playing the hypocrite.

ABSOLUTE I'm sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken.

Sir ANTHONY Hang your respect and duty! But come along with me, I'll write a note to Mrs. Malaprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the Promethean torch to you—come along, I'll never forgive you, if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and impatience—if you don't, egad, I will marry the girl myself!

[Exeunt.]

* * * * * * *

Scene II—JULIA's Dressing-room. [FAULKLAND discovered alone.]

FAULKLAND They told me Julia would return directly; I wonder she is not yet come! How mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of mine appear to my cooler judgment! Yet I know not that I indulge it in any other point: but on this one subject, and to this one subject, whom I think I love beyond my life, I am ever ungenerously fretful and madly capricious! I am conscious of it—yet I cannot correct myself! What tender honest joy sparkled in her eyes when we met! how delicate was the warmth of her expression! I was ashamed to appear less happy—though I had come resolved to wear a face of coolness and upbraiding. Sir Anthony's presence prevented my proposed expostulations: yet I must be satisfied that she has not been so very happy in my absence. She is coming! Yes!—I know the nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks her impatient Faulkland counts the moments of her stay.

[Enter JULIA.]

JULIA
I had not hoped to see you again so soon.

FAULKLAND Could I, Julia, be contented with my first welcome—restrained as we were by the presence of a third person?

JULIA O Faulkland, when your kindness can make me thus happy, let me not think that I discovered something of coldness in your first salutation.

FAULKLAND 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was rejoiced to see you—to see you in such health. Sure I had no cause for coldness?

JULIA Nay, then, I see you have taken something ill. You must not conceal from me what it is.

FAULKLAND Well, then—shall I own to you that my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire—on your mirth—your singing—dancing, and I know not what! For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirthful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy. The mutual tear that steals down the cheek of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again.

JULIA Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland with this teasing minute caprice? Can the idle reports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against my tried affections?

FAULKLAND They have no weight with me, Julia: No, no—I am happy if you have been so—yet only say, that you did not sing with mirth—say that you thought of Faulkland in the dance.

JULIA I never can be happy in your absence. If I wear a countenance of content, it is to show that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's truth. If I seemed sad, it were to make malice triumph; and say, that I had fixed my heart on one, who left me to lament his roving, and my own credulity. Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not to upbraid you, when I say, that I have often dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my friends should guess whose unkindness had caused my tears.

FAULKLAND You were ever all goodness to me. Oh, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of your true constancy!

JULIA If ever without such cause from you, as I will not suppose possible, you find my affections veering but a point, may I become a proverbial scoff for levity and base ingratitude.

FAULKLAND Ah! Julia, that last word is grating to me. I would I had no title to your gratitude! Search your heart, Julia; perhaps what you have mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a too thankful heart.

JULIA
For what quality must I love you?

FAULKLAND For no quality! To regard me for any quality of mind or understanding, were only to esteem me. And for person—I have often wished myself deformed, to be convinced