4549 
 
 Ml 
 
 1804 
 
 A== 
 
 
 1 oH^ 
 
 
 1 1 j: 
 
 [ 4 ^ === _ > 
 
 
 Dibdin 
 Guilty or not guilty
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 A COMEDY, 
 IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 FIRST ACTED AT THE 
 
 l^eatc^Eopal, ^apmarfcet , 
 
 May 26th 1804. 
 
 WRITtE^ BY 
 
 THOMAS DIBDIN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 The Jew and the Doctor; Birth-Day; Will for the Deed; Cabinet; 
 English Fleet; Tamily Quarrels; II Bondocani; School for 
 Prejudice; Five Thousand a Year; St. David's Day; Naval 
 Pillar ; Mouth of the Nile ; Horse and the Widow ; Valentine 
 and Orson, SfC <$ c. Sec 
 
 THE FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Luke Hanfard, 
 
 FOR LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO. 
 
 FINSBCn Y-S QUARE, 
 
 1804.
 
 
 Luke Hinfird, Printer, 
 Grett Turnftile, LiacolnVInn FieUi.
 
 PR 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 However ample the Author's prior obliga- 
 tions to a moft liberally indulgent Public, the 
 reception given to this present attempt has infi- 
 nitely added to the grateful sense he entertains 
 of them. In adventuring on a new scene of 
 action, he is proud to have experienced fresh 
 proofs of that generous consideration which, on 
 the part of the Audience, has ever been extended 
 to his former efforts; and when the Acting 
 Manager and all the Performers have also done 
 their utmost in support of the Author, it would 
 be as ungrateful to omit as it would be improper 
 to particularize the force and effect of the;. 
 several exertions. 
 
 It is by no means the least gratification, 
 
 resulting from this occasion, that it has been 
 
 the means of introducing him to Mr. Colman ; 
 
 a Gentleman whose open, friendly, and equal 
 
 3 conduct
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 conduct towards an humble follower of the 
 Art in which John Bull's favourite Author so 
 eminently excels, merits the most pointed and 
 unequivocal acknowledgment. 
 
 *#* By referring to the Novel of " The 
 Reprobate," the Reader will perceive how far 
 this Comedy is indebted for its outline.
 
 PROLOGUE, 
 
 Written by the Author of the Comedt. 
 Spoken by Mr. J. Palmer. 
 When Spring to Summer ripening cheers the day, 
 And bids the vegetable world be gay ; 
 When London windows every where disclose 
 The fragrant briar, and the blushing rose; 
 While the warm gale their balmy breath receives, 
 We venture to put forth our annual leaves. 
 A Nurs'ry this, where flowers of various hue 
 Depend for nurture, growth, and life, on you ; 
 You, who the opening buds of efforts spare, 
 And ripen merit by your fost'ring care ; 
 What'er may flourifh here, 'tis your's alone 
 To claim the gen'rous harvest, all your own. 
 In hopes removal may not caufe a blight, 
 A trembling scion we transplant to night 
 From Covent Garden, on that spot firft plac'd, 
 And by the sunshine of your favour grac'd ; 
 If from its stem no evergreens appear, 
 Yet has it blossom'd more than once a year; 
 Nor will it suffer for the change of air, 
 Your liberality is every where. 
 
 Rear'd by the genial warmth your plaudits give, 
 Still by their aid the Poet hopes to live. 
 Then if luxuriant shoots he chance to bear, 
 Or barren spots offend you here and there, 
 Let not, untimely nipt by critic frost, 
 For some poor branches, all the tree be lost : 
 As skilful gard'ners, while there's hope of life, 
 Before the axe, apply the pruning knife. 
 
 This were superfluous, did not custom ask 
 The Prologue ere we venture on our task. 
 Proceed we then to trial that permitted, 
 With justice nere we fall, or stand acquitted.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Lord Rigid Mr. ARCHER. 
 
 Major Corslet Mr. R..PALMER. 
 
 Mb. Balance Mr. CHAPMAN. 
 
 Edmond Rigid Mr. ELLISTON. 
 
 Charles Balance Mr. J. PALMER. 
 
 Sir Harry Pointer Mr. DE CAMP. 
 
 Triangle Mr. MATHEWS. 
 
 William Mr. TAYLOR. 
 
 Gregory Mr. GROVE. 
 
 Dicky Matter TOKELY. 
 
 Lord Rigid's Servant... Mr. ABBOTT. 
 
 Lady Rigid ; . Mrs. T. WOODFALL. 
 
 Mrs. Balance Mrs. WARD. 
 
 St : zi-.tte Miss GRIMANI. 
 
 Sophia Pointer Miss WOODFALL. 
 
 Nancy Mrs. GIBBS. 
 
 Deborah Mrs. KENDALL. 
 
 Scene A VILLAGE. 
 
 i n
 
 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A hall in the House of Mr. Balance. 
 
 Enter William and Nancy. 
 
 .Nancy. Nay, but William, do let me go in, 
 I'm in such a hurry. 
 
 Willm. I am glad of it. You always look 
 pretty when you're in a hurry. 
 
 Nancy. Then vou think I'd better not s;o in ? 
 
 Willm. No, not yet : he's busy at his books, 
 Mrs. Nancy. I beg pardon, because I mean 
 no offence; but I'm never certain whether I be 
 right in calling you Mrs. or Miss Nancy. 
 
 Nancy. And where's the difference? 
 
 Wi llai. Why, Miss Nancy seems to signify 
 as if it was 
 
 Nancy. Too good for a servant? 
 
 B W r ILLM
 
 2 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Wilt Lie* No, no; I am but a sort of a ser- 
 vant myself, and I never thought any thing too* 
 good for rrity if 1 could get it honeftly and fairly,, 
 and so following. But, as I was saying, if I 
 call you Mrs. it looks as if it wanted some 
 other name besides Nancy to make it right and; 
 proper. 
 
 Nancy. La! Mr. William, I don't want 
 another name. 
 
 Willm. If you did I've one heartily at your 
 service; and if so be. you should at any time 
 take a fancy to be Mrs. Will Wallflower, and so 
 following, why, you'll find it not a bad name, 
 and very much at your service. 
 
 Nancy. I'm sure Mr. William I woutln't rob- 
 you of your good name for all the world though 
 it's not the firft kind offer you have made me, 
 and I'm very much obliged to you. 
 
 Willm. Why, as to that, you see, when I 
 offer auiiht to any bodv, it's either because I 
 like 'em, or because I can spare it. And if their 
 accepting what little I'm able to give is a plea- 
 sure to me, why, I consider that / be the per- 
 son to say thankye for the obligation. 
 
 Nancy. You are very kind; but if you 
 knew how I got my place in the family, perhaps 
 you 
 
 Willm. As for how you got your place it's 
 nought to me. You've behaved well in it, an*! 
 a good servant will never make a bad mistress. 
 
 I srot 
 
 ft
 
 A COMEDY. S 
 
 I got m U place by jumping, and I don't care 
 who knows it. 
 
 Nan c y. By j umping ! ! 
 
 Willm. Yes; and without jumping over the 
 head of any one that had a better right to it. 
 Did you never hear the ftory ? 
 
 Nancy. No, indeed, Mr. William. 
 Wi l lm. Then you'd better get somebody else 
 to tell it you ; for when a man's ovation is all 
 about himself, he looks like a great I at the be- 
 ginning of a chapter, that's spoil'd by ugly 
 flourishes. 
 
 Nancy. Oh, if you get toyoirrugly flourishes 
 I'm sure I shall never hear the story. I thought 
 you was never to refuse me any thing. 
 
 Willm. Well, then since you desire it, you 
 must know that when young Mr. Charles, the 
 son of our master, Mr. Balance, and I were 
 boys, about eleven years ago, we were, at that 
 time, exactly the same age, and, what is very 
 remarkable, we continued so to this day. 
 
 Nancy. That is very odd indeed! 
 
 Willm. Why, yes ; for though young master 
 cou'd beat me at learning, and read more of the 
 JLatin Accidents, and so following, yet, some- 
 how, he could never beat me at any thing else, 
 concerning which, one day, we had a quarrel. 
 
 Nancy. And did you quarrel with such a 
 good-natured gentleman ? 
 
 Willm. That's as he tells the ftory; but I 
 B 2 say
 
 4 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 say he quarrelled with me, and talk'd about 
 knocking my teeth down my throat. Now, 
 seeing I was a hard-working lad, and he only a 
 gentleman, 1 didn't think he ftood any chance 
 wi' me, and I made bold to tell him so. 
 
 Nancy. I hope you didn't fight? 
 
 Wilim. Why, without you had had a genteel 
 education, and learnt boxing, as he did, you'd 
 never guess what poftures and capers he made at 
 me, to shew the different wavs he meant to 
 thrash me ; and having but one way of my own, 
 I began to think if I didn't use that I should 
 get the worst on't, so, as he was .considering 
 how to hit me, I hit him, without considering 
 at all. t 
 
 Na\c y. How could you be so cruel, William ? 
 
 Wilt m. I don't know. I assure you I hate 
 the thoughts on't to this da}', for he was the last 
 lad in the world I'd see knocked down, except 
 myself, and that shall never happen as long as 
 I can stand upon two legs. 
 
 N a \ c y. But you made friends, I hope ? 
 
 V.'iju..u. Not then : he went away sulky, and 
 I began to think he wasn't pleas'd,' and the next 
 time we met he said, though I might beat him at 
 lighting, 1 cnudn't beat him at jumping, and 
 that put me up ; for he jump'd off a high bridge 
 right into t'river, and ecod he jump'd so far 
 I could see nought on him. 
 
 Nancy. You frighten me! 
 
 "WlLLM.
 
 A COMEDY. 5 
 
 Willm. So he did me; but as I was chal- 
 lenged, I thought I'd try to make a better jump 
 on't than he did ; so I not only went after him, 
 but brought him back for company and they 
 sent for the Humane Society, Heaven bless 'em, 
 I never shall forget when Charles open'd his 
 eyes, and his father and mother hugg'd me, 
 and said I should live with 'em as long as they 
 lived, as if 1 had done aught that was wonder- 
 ful, when, I'm sure, if every body had the 
 rights on't, poor Charles had jump'd as far again 
 as I did. 
 
 Nancy. Dear, good William, how I love 
 your spirit! 
 
 Willm. Why, do you? then let's make an 
 end of the matter at once. [Bell rings.] There, 
 this comes of telling; Ions; stories. Now mailer's 
 bell rings, and if it hadn't been for that plaguy 
 jumping hiftory about boys tricks, I cou'd ha' 
 said somewhat to recommend myself by this 
 time. 
 
 Nancy. You have lost no time, believe me, 
 William; but tell your mailer that Major Cors- 
 let has been walking up and down, and looking 
 at his windows this half hour. 
 
 Willm. I'm glad on't they've had a long 
 bit of a tiff, I reckon. How the devil can peo- 
 ple quarrel that like one another? 
 
 Nancy. Why, Lord, William, you and I 
 quarrel very often ; but the Major's a good man. 
 
 WlLLMi
 
 6 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Willm. And so is old master, Mr. Balance; 
 for though he were bred a merchant, and have 
 only made a gentleman of his son, yet he keeps 
 his accounts, and scolds his servants, and takes 
 care of his tenants, and [Bell rings] rings his 
 bell as if he were a Lord. But what did you 
 want to go in about ? 
 
 Nancy. Only to tell him about the Major ; 
 but you can do that, while I see if the old gen- 
 tleman's gone yet. 
 
 Willm. So I can I'll tell him the Major is 
 [Bell rings.] . Coming directly, Sir. [Exit. 
 
 Nancy. That William is a kind, good na- 
 tured, sensible young man. I've a great mind 
 to have him he's head man oyer every body 
 here, and yet hasn't a bit of pride belonging to 
 him; perhaps if he married me, that would alter 
 the case. Ludl here comes Mr. Triangle, our 
 village schoolmaster and library keeper his 
 talk may be more improving, but isn't half so 
 pleasant as William's. 
 
 Enter Triangle. 
 
 Tu tan. Ah! what, Nancy, how arc the 
 worthy family to-day r Any news ? Has your 
 Lady done with the last novel? I saw the 
 Major just now at the door; but as soon as he 
 taw me, he described the segment of a circle 
 
 round
 
 A COMEDY. 7 
 
 round an angle of the building, and in one mo- 
 ment was as far out of sight as the longitude. 
 
 Nancy. I know nothing of foreign parts. 
 But is the Major gone ? I remember when he 
 hardly ever left this house. 
 
 Trian. Your memory was always excellent; 
 when the Squire's Lady put you to me for 
 instruction, you got on rapidly, and were the 
 most forward girl in the whole school. 
 
 Nancy. 1 forward? For shame of yourself \ 
 
 Trtan. To your credit be it spoken; and 
 therefore out of pure friendship I come, firft. 
 to see if the family want any thing from my 
 library; and then, to warn you and all the 
 females not to walk near the hermitage. The 
 reprobate is returned, the monster is come back, 
 and his very touch is contamination. 
 
 Nancy. Have you been near him, Sir? 
 
 Tii i an. Me! no! He excites more terror 
 than any modern novel in my catalogue. His 
 hypocrisy beats. Blijil his villany is beyond 
 Fathom, and he is the sum total of all manner 
 of wickedness. 
 
 Nancy. Well, he never did me any harm, 
 but 111 not go near him ; I'll take your advice, 
 because I'm sure you're a much better judge 
 of wickedness than I am. [Exit. 
 
 Trian. A nice girl that ! The Squire paid 
 me well for her schooling, and 1 made her un- 
 derstand the multiplication table better than 
 any lass in the parish.
 
 8 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Re-erite?* William. 
 
 Willm. Ah, Mr. Triangle ! 1 humbly wish 
 you'd step in to master a bit; he seems low- 
 spirited, and not so merry like as he used to be. 
 He's got that plaguy journal, as he calls it, on 
 the table again ; and setting down dismal things 
 that happen'd long ago, makes but a gloomy 
 sort of a. past time I reckon. 
 
 Tin an. You reckon ! has he dined ? 
 
 Willm. Yes, Sir; and there be a tiff of 
 punch on table ; but he takes no notice at it, 
 though I made it myself for him. 
 
 Trtan. That's wrong ; for when the cloth is 
 subtracted, a bowl of punch is too good an 
 addition to be neglected ; and perhaps I may not 
 be too late to come in for a magnum bonum. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Willm. Nay, t'bones be all gone as well as 
 t'meat. That's a merry odd kind of a body ; 
 but this is his ciphering da}', and his tongue 
 runs like a slate pencil. To-morrow the boys 
 learn to read Classics, as he calls 'em ; and then 
 he'll talk o' nothing but Cjesar's Commondaries, 
 and Sampson's Agonies, and so following. I 
 was his scholar myself once; but I had too 
 good a head-piece to let in much learning for 
 to me his .4/gebra was all Greek; and his Latin 
 was quite prcglymatkal, as he calls it. 
 
 [Exit.
 
 A COMEDY. 9 
 
 SCENE II. A Dining parlour, 
 
 Mr. Balance discovered, looking over a large 
 book Pe?is, ink, punch, and glasses before 
 him ; Triangle standing at the other end 
 of the table, 
 
 Trian. He's quite abftra&ed, and minds me 
 no more than a dunce does his lesson. I'll try 
 another way [Jills a glass] Mr. Balance I have 
 the pleasure of drinking your health. 
 
 Balance, [shutting his book] Sir, I have 
 the honour of thanking you There ; the ac- 
 count is balanced, and, errors excepted, 1 have 
 to this day faithfully completed my journal. 
 
 Trian. You'll pardon presumption; but to 
 a merchant who has quitted bufiness his journal 
 becomes little better than a wade book. 
 
 Balance. But in this book are entered all 
 the memorable events of my life, it is both 
 journal and ledger, and though it contains some 
 intricate pages, I have closed no account with- 
 out finding myself debtor to Providence, 
 
 Tuian. It's astonishing how that book wou'd 
 be called for if it were in my library. I hate 
 flattery as I do techinals; but worth like yours, 
 according to my mensuration of solids, would 
 rouse the curiofity of the whole hamlet. 
 
 Balance. Swallow your punch, my good 
 
 friend, and let's hear the news. I'm told Major 
 
 C Corslet
 
 10 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Coislet is returned from London, where he has 
 been in search- of* his daughter. 
 
 Trfan. Then he is come back alone, and 
 looks as melancholy as Theodore Cyphon. 
 Well, I little thought any lady of major Cors- 
 let's family was born to be marked with a 
 spider's web. 
 
 Balance. Explain, Sir? 
 
 Trian. Certainly. You muft know that our 
 pari ill clerk, though he writes a bad hand, and 
 underftands no more of figures than a dancing 
 matter, has no small portion of ingenuity, about 
 him, and can spin out a story 
 
 Balance. Like a Schoolmafter. 
 
 Trian. Excellent ! He is, moreover, so 
 jealous for the honour of his parish, and so 
 rigid a censor of feminine delinquency, that he 
 has carefully noted all such little offences in 
 the church regifter, and so become Numerator 
 and Denominator of every Japse of female virtue 
 in this part of the country. 
 
 Balance. As if the memory of malignant 
 censure were not, already, so tenacious as fre- 
 quently to be the means of barring the return 
 of penitence to virtue ! 
 
 Trjan. I, some years back, made a similar 
 remark to him, in consequence of which he de- 
 clined inserting verbal descriptions* and fince 
 contented himself by drawing with his pen, 
 againft.evCry suspicious name, a small cobweb, 
 8 which,
 
 A COM ED V. H 
 
 which, in case the defection amounted to proof 
 pofitive, was generally embellifhed with a large 
 spider in the middle of it. 
 
 Balance. And does he dare continue ? 
 
 Trian. O dear, no he has left it off ever 
 fince his own daughter eloped with the Excise- 
 man. However, as the girl is now married, and 
 the man has property, he laughs it off, and says 
 the spider is turned into a mere money-spinner. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Balance. 
 
 Madam, your very obedient [with a pro- 
 found bow.] 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Well, husband, we're never 
 to be at ease ; the neighbourhood is to be dis- 
 graced again with the presence of that scanda- 
 lous young man who bought the Hermitage. 
 
 Trian. O dear, true I had quite forgot 
 young squire Rigid, has come home as well as 
 the major; but shuts himself up closer than 
 ever. 
 
 Balance. His coming is unlucky. I have 
 always suspected my son, Charles, had a han- 
 kering after an acquaintance with that unfortu- 
 nate young man ; and though I detelt prejudice, 
 yet, what I have heard of him makes me trem* 
 ble for the event of such a connection. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Then exert your authority, 
 and prevent it. Charles has more than once 
 hinted a word or two in defence of the hardened 
 
 c 2 wretch;
 
 V2 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 wretch; and even says he has been known to 
 perform charitable actions. 
 
 Tkian. Why, / really have heard, that in 
 divifion of money, he is sometimes very liberal, 
 not that I credit it; for I can't say that /can't 
 say that / ever had any demonstrative proof of 
 it. 
 
 Balance. He may endeavour to palliate 
 past guilt by acls of charity, nor can he take a 
 better method. Practical repentance makes 
 best amends to injured society. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. But the man who has as- 
 sailed the virtue of his Mother-in-law, and 
 attempted his father's life 
 
 Triax. Muft be too bad even for a place in 
 a spider's web. But your son is coming, and 
 my pupils by this time demand my presence : 
 meanwhile I assure you there isn't a word in 
 the dictionary, a book in my library, or any 
 power in numbers, to express a tenth part of the 
 grateful respect you derive from Titus Triangle. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Balance. A pert, coxcomical blockhead; 
 but I believe there's no harm in him 
 
 Mrs. Balance. In him! he's a very sensible 
 man he keeps a school, a news-room, and a 
 circulating library, teaches the whole parish, 
 and tells all the children that we are the most 
 respectable people in it. I shou'dn't get a bob 
 curtsey from one end of the village to the other, 
 
 if
 
 A COMEDY. t3 
 
 if it wasn't for him. The world's grown so bad, 
 Mr. Balance, that if we hadn't a civil school- 
 master to polish the rising generation, I don't 
 know what wou'd become of us. 
 
 Balance. And if the schoolmaster's talents 
 center in nothing but teaching the rising ge- 
 neration to sink at your approach, I don't 
 know what will become of us as it is. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Here comes our son. 
 
 Enter Charles. 
 
 Charles. Sir, I have pleasant intelligence 
 for you. I have seen and even conversed with 
 the Major. 
 
 Balance. And he has found his daughter? 
 
 Charles. No, Sir; but he now seems anxi- 
 ous to recover his lost friend- he wishes to see 
 you, and as he is a man of no ceremony, he 
 don't know, he says, which way to set about it. 
 
 Balance. Then set the street door wide 
 open, and if he can't find the way then, it will 
 be more his own fault than ever it was. 
 
 Mrs. Bala.vce. So it will, dear, so it will. 
 I'faith, if he offers to come and make friends 
 here, we'll be as ready as he is I warrant. 
 
 Balance. So we will, Wife Orderthe Major's 
 arm chair to be put close to mine his favourite 
 cup, and a long pipe to be put on the table; 
 and, as he adores flowers, let some be put in 
 the window ; and then, if you don't do him a 
 
 pleasure,
 
 14 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 pleasure, you'll at least do your duty in at- 
 tempting it. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. (Goaxingly) And shaVt I 
 do you a pleasure at the same timer 
 
 Balance. Your only asking the question is 
 a pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Ah ! you're a kind old souf, 
 that's what you are. [Exit. 
 
 Balance. That's a good wench, bid 'em 
 hasten before he comes. Well, Charles, your 
 friend is at the hermitage, 1 hear. 
 
 Charles. My friend, Sir! 
 
 Balance. Well, your acquaintance then. 
 
 Charles. Do you not consider him a scan- 
 dalous character? 
 
 Balance. What all the world says must be 
 true. 
 
 Charles. But if there should be an ex- 
 ception to such a rule ! 
 
 Balance. Then I wish it may be him, with 
 all my heart; but a man who, besides charges 
 of a ftill more serious nature, has been expelled 
 the university, turned out of the army with dis- 
 grace, and associated with gamesters, must find 
 some difficulty in exonerating himself. 
 
 Charles. Permit me to say, Sir 
 
 % Balance. Not a word. Your age and edu- 
 cation entitle you to judge a little for yourself 
 Give me your honour never to abuse your 
 father's confidence, and on your own head be 
 the punishment of parting with your integrity. 
 
 Charles-
 
 A COMEDY. 15 
 
 Charles. On that condition I assure you, 
 Sir, that whatever errors may spring from my 
 .own inexperience, you shall never have to blush 
 for those of my companions : the moment I 
 discover they are unworthy the son of so kind 
 and generous a father. [Exit. 
 
 During the above Scene the arm chair, flowers, 
 pipes, c. are placed as for the Major. 
 
 Balance. I'm willing to believe the boy, 
 and to think myself happy in a good son; but 
 mortals are apt to be mistaken. I thought I 
 had a good wife for him in the Major's daughter 
 I thought the Major was nw good friend ; 
 and in a very few days all those thoughts ended 
 in disappointment. Yet, perhaps, I wrong the 
 Major I may have been rash, and forgot that 
 the afflictions of a father had no room for the 
 inferior considerations of friendship. The 
 things, I see, are all as I ordered r [sits down] 
 Heigho ! I remember when every day he 
 used to pop his. head in at that door, and say: 
 
 Major, [peeping in at the door] How are 
 you old Balance ? Hey, my boy, how are you ? 
 I hav'n't seen you but once since the lasfciime I 
 knew how to be happy. 
 
 Balance. Sit down! sit down! You seel 
 expected you. An old soldier shou'dn't be cast 
 down for trifles so you shou'd take it easy, 
 and think no more of it, as I do, 
 
 [half crying sits dozen to write.] 
 
 Major.
 
 16 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Major, [also affected] So I do, you old 
 fool. I was only thinking that when I quitted 
 this apartment, I what are you at there, eh ? 
 
 Balance. Writing the first pleasant lines 
 in my journal since we quarrell'd That differ- 
 ence made a grand deficiency in the credit ac- 
 count of happiness, and this entry is the end 
 on't. 
 
 Major. Let's see Let's see [wipes his eyes] 
 hang the spectacles my old nose is so slippery 
 they won't keep their place [reads] "June the 
 eighteenth, reconciled to my friend, Major 
 Corslet towards whom I had acted rather too 
 harshly." No you haven't No you haven't 
 What's the month 5 June by this wet weather, 
 [wiping his eyes] and the fools you and I make 
 of ourselves, one would think it was April. 
 
 Balance. No matter we'll never blush at 
 cherishing the flower of friendship, because it 
 happened to be watered by the dew of sensi- 
 bility. Here, take this pipe there has been no 
 smoking since you were here. . 
 
 Major. I take it as the calumet of peace. 
 I've been where Indians used this ceremony, 
 and their sincerity has shamed us Chriftians. 
 Come, give me thy hand it was I who acted 
 wrong, and therefore I think we had better say 
 no more about it. [Lights his pipe.] 
 
 Balance. As you will. In this journal I 
 have entered so many errors cf my own, and 
 
 found
 
 A COMEDY. 17 
 
 found so few excuses to placG per contra, 
 that I shou'd be a bankrupt in common honesty, 
 were I not to make liberal allowance for the 
 failure of a friend. 
 
 Major. I should like to see now what you 
 said of me, when I rashly tax'd you with 
 being- accessary to the misfortune of my poor 
 daughter. 
 
 Balance. What cou'dl say ? Your daughter 
 herself rendered any insertion of mine, witli 
 respect to you, unnecessary. You know her 
 writing, {presents the book.] 
 
 Major. Why [takes the book] yes, I I 
 [gives it back] I wish you'd read it for me. 
 
 Balance. Prior to this, I had unkindly 
 written but I did not mean her to see it, that 
 my mistaken opinion of her had almost deter- 
 mined me here to close my journal. 
 
 .Major. And well it might ungrateful, un- 
 kind Suzette ! What could she say ? 
 
 Balance. Why hear, only hear what she 
 says [reads.] ;"Alas! why shou'd the errors 
 " of one poor wretch close the journal of athou- 
 " sand acts of benevolence? Believe me, wor- 
 u thy friend ! I am less criminal than unfortu* 
 " nate resume your pen write under my name 
 c< that forgiveness I dare not ask. May my 
 " father find his former amusement among his 
 11 favourite flowers, and henceforth only give 
 " the unfortunate name of Suzette to those he 
 
 D " may
 
 18 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 " may find blasted by lightning, or broken by 
 " a tempest !" 
 
 Major. Ay, ay, I xoas fond of flowers once, 
 to be sure, but 
 
 Balance. But what, my dear friend? 
 
 Major. You know what Shakspeare says 
 rt They all withered when my Suzy died." 
 , Balance. Died! 
 
 Major. Yes. Dead to honour, she is dead 
 to me. Tis a painful retrospect; but as it must 
 be once gone over between us, better now, and 
 done with. You wish to be informed of her 
 destiny. What I know, I'll tell you. 
 
 Balance. Come, first we'll drink one glass 
 to old regards, when you and I were in India, 
 you a soldier, and I a merchant. 
 
 Major. The child was then unborn could 
 interrupt our friendship. Well, we came to 
 England. Your journal was your hobby ; mine 
 my flowers. My wife died, yours became, as it 
 were, the mother of my girl she was to have 
 been the wife of your son and one day, when 
 I had bought her a most beautiful Virginian 
 honeysuckle, it perished in bringing home 
 an emblem of what I was to meet with in my 
 daughter. 
 
 Balance. I know all that: her indiscretion 
 soon betrayed itself. I interceded you were 
 violent We parted the girl disappeared and 
 a year has passed since the village has even 
 
 forgone
 
 A COMEDY. 19 
 
 forgone the pleasure of malignant pity to regret 
 her absence. 
 
 Major. I asked her to name the villain who 
 had seduced her, and, in the same moment, 
 swore most bitterly to sacrifice him to my in- 
 jured honour and, do you know, the girl re- 
 fused to tell me who he was. 
 
 Balance. I should have guessed so. 
 Major. I gave her a sum of money; made 
 her vow, and that most sacredly, not to write 
 to any one ; made her change her name; took 
 her parcel on my shoulder ; accompanied her by 
 night to where a stage cdach cross'd the path ; 
 saw her safe into it, and then stood supported 
 by the stick, on which her bundle lately hung, 
 like the statue of Anger leaning on Despair. 
 
 Balance. 1 don't wonder at it. What 
 coach? 
 
 Major. I cannot tell the night was dark 
 I stood till morning beam 'd upon my head, and 
 followed with my eye the coach-wheel track till 
 it was lost in others then returned homeward 
 you remember how yet, had I ten daughters, 
 thus they all shou'd go, even if I sunk beneath 
 the conflict; and that, I fear, will quickly be 
 the case. 
 
 Balance. And yet you went, but now, in 
 search of her ! 
 
 Major. 'T Was a false report. 
 Balance. Then is her crime atoned and 
 here I write-*" May the blessing of Heaven at- 
 d 2 tend
 
 20 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 tend and console a dear unhappy girl, abandoned 
 by her father!" 
 
 Major, Abandoned, Sir! what right have 
 you 
 
 Balance. She was the daughter of my 
 friend that was you were too hasty I told 
 you so before. 
 
 Major. Hark ye, Sir! when I came here, 
 I look'd for consolation, not reproach But 
 when again I enter these abominable doors 
 you shall not, with impunity, insult a man of 
 honour Yes, Sir, of honour nor shall you 
 arrogantly judge of what amends that honour 
 may require, when sullied by the shameless and 
 unfeeling conduct of a once-beloved daughter. 
 
 [rushes out. 
 * Balance. He's gone again! let him go 
 so much the better I'll seek the w r anderer my- 
 self; and if the consolation of a friend she's 
 not my daughter, to be sure, as he says her 
 father is the best judge but fathers shon'd be 
 forgiving for my part, I was always too in- 
 dulgent to my children, and I love the hussy 
 so, that if my son, Charles, had disappointed 
 her, as she has him, I'd have .knock'd the ras- 
 cal's brains out long: ago, [Exit, 
 
 jLfid of' Act the First,
 
 A COMEDY. 21 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. Inside of Triangle's house, very 
 neatly jit ted up in the modern cottage style 
 a door in the centre of the Scene, and one on 
 each side, over the centre, the words ''Circulat- 
 ing Library," in large letters ; on one side, the 
 " Reading Room;" on theopposite, "Academy" 
 the middle door is sufficiently open to shew 
 a small book shop communicating with the vil- 
 lage street. 
 
 Enter Triangle from the Library. 
 
 Triangle. 
 
 ^o, so in times like these it requires every man 
 of business to be as watchful as Cerberus, in order 
 to obtain a decent livelihood and, egad, if I 
 hadn't, like Cerberus, a triple head, I shou'd 
 never have managed to become, at once, the 
 superintendant of three literary departments, 
 [looking round] "Academy," "Library," and 
 " Reading Room," by which means I draw the 
 whole village to my interest; the women read my 
 novels; the men, my newspapers; and the 
 children come to school. To be sure, the news- 
 room
 
 2 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 room is a little too close to the Academy, for my 
 customers can't read for the chattering of the 
 boys, and the scholars can't study for the quar- 
 rels of the newspaper politicians, who, while 
 they damn the Times, and upset the Globe, are all 
 ready to fight for the honour of the British 
 Press. 
 
 Enter Dicky. 
 
 Well Dicky, have you carried out the books ? 
 
 Dicky. Yes, Sir; here is the list of what's 
 delivered, and what is wanting. 
 
 Trian. Oh, let's see [reads] "Counted lor Crab 
 wants Liberal Opinions'" I'm sorry for that, 
 for it's not at home. " The Tailor's wife has had 
 Mysterious Warnings, and the Apothecary's 
 journeyman, Pills to purge Melancholy." Now 
 you must take Tales of Terror to the widow 
 Tremor More Ghosts to the Sexton's daughter, 
 the Curse of Sentiment to the Butcher, Melting 
 Meyrients to the tallow chandler, and Old Nick 
 to the attorney. 
 
 Dicky. Yes, Sir; he, he, he! I'll take the 
 Attorney to Old Nick. 
 
 Trian. &o, no, there'll 1 be no necessity for 
 that. Get along, and do as I bid you. 
 
 [Exit Dicky. 
 
 No business stirring to-day library rather flat 
 riio post from London to bring the papers, and 
 
 the
 
 A COMED Y. 3 
 
 the boys have half a holiday. Bless me ! here's a 
 trump card a fine high phaeton, and four by 
 honours the gentleman alights, too this way, 
 Sir Library or reading room newspapers, or 
 novels, or would you please to rest here in the 
 hall, Sir ? 
 
 Bows in Sir Harry Pointer, xvho flings himself 
 in an arm chair. 
 
 Sir Harry. Any where to recover breath. I 
 drove the last sixteen miles to a nicety, rather 
 within time by your clocks saw this was a sort 
 of a house where one might learn the news, so 
 stept in for a moment. You're rather snug 
 here, my man. 
 
 Trian. Very, Sir Seminary, Library, and 
 Oratory, conducted upon the best principles of 
 desk, rostrum and catalogue, and excellently 
 govern'd by Ferula, Hammer, and Terms of Sub- 
 scription. 
 
 Sir Harry. You're an odd fellow, for you 
 seem to do every thing by the Rule of Three. 
 
 Trian. My practice exactly, Sir. Built the 
 whole of this mansion upon the plan of direct 
 proportion ; for, says I if the reading room 
 give me half as much as the book shop, what 
 will the school room do ? 
 
 Sir Harry. How the devil shou'd I know? 
 
 Trian. Pardon me I mean, what will the 
 academy produce f 
 
 Sir
 
 24 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Sir Harry. Plenty of blockheads, no doubt, 
 while you are schoolmaster. 
 
 Trian. Ha, ha! facetious in the extreme, 
 I wish we had the honour of your company, some 
 evening, in the debating club. 
 
 Sir Harry. Perhaps you may. I've some 
 thoughts of getting settled in this part of the 
 world. 
 
 Trian. That's lucky If you visit our club, 
 a. man of your wit would be knocked down for 
 a speech every five minutes. 
 
 Sir Harry. That's one way of getting settled, 
 however. What sort of folks are your neigh- 
 bours? 
 
 Trian. The most pleasant people in the 
 world, and all characters in their way. 
 
 Sir Harry. There's a pretty hunting box- 
 just by, they call the Hermitage, I suppose you 
 know who lives there? 
 
 Trian. Is the gentleman a friend of yours, 
 Sir? 
 
 Sir Harry. That's no answer to my ques- 
 tion. I can't say whether he is a friend or no ; 
 but I believe his father, lord Rigid, has some 
 wish of marrying him to a sister of mine. What 
 sort of a character does he bear in these parts? 
 
 Trian. [aside] Oho ! mus'n't spoil a match 
 the lady may subscribe. Why, sir, he is rather 
 an odd good sort of a peaceable, quiet kind 
 of a young gentleman enough. 
 
 9 Sir
 
 A COMEDY. 25 
 
 Sir Harry. Peaceable? 
 
 Trtan. Very, Sir: he left the army from an 
 objection to fighting. 
 
 Sir Harry. Ihe devil he did! is he a coward 
 then? 
 
 Trian. O no, I can't think that; for every 
 body else is afraid of his father, lord Rigid 
 now, I'm told, the young gentleman don't care 
 two-pence for him, and never did any thing he 
 was bid in his life. 
 
 Sir Harry. A mighty dutiful kiiid of a soil. 
 He is a scholar I am told; 
 
 Trian. He must be a very great one; for 
 they cou'dn't understand him at all at the uni- 
 versity, so they desired him to go home again 
 then he's the most astonishing card player in the 
 whole county; 
 
 Sir Harry. Indeed ! have you any proof of 
 that? 
 
 Trian. By report only, Sir: for nobody here 
 will venture to play with him. 
 
 Sir Harry, [apart'] It's rather lucky Sophy 
 doesn't hear all this. Whose are the two neat 
 houses on the right and left ? 
 
 Trian. They belong to a merchant, and a 
 major, Sir. The merchant is a rich man, tho' he 
 lives plainly: the major is a bluff old soldier, ra- 
 ther poor, and extremely proud he has a daugh- 
 ter, who bless my soul ! why there's a lady in 
 
 K 'the
 
 2<J GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 the pha?ton all this while ! won't she do me the 
 honour to alight ? 
 
 Sir Harry. Oh, it's only my sister the horses 
 have got their w hid by this time, and now I am 
 off When I come this way again, I shall, per- 
 haps, buy one of your catalogues, and [a loud 
 .scream heard] death and fury ! the horses are off 
 full gallop ! my sister, yes, my sister, and my 
 best set of greys, will undoubtedly be ruined. 
 Stop the carriage ! [Runs out 
 
 Trian. [Looking out] Dear me, dear me 1 
 what an accident! and nobody offers to lend the 
 least assistance there they go and there goes 
 William and there goes squire Charles, gallop- 
 ing he has turned the horses they're coming- 
 back, and now, he has saved the lady. I'm glad 
 lie has saved the lady ! Oh, how happy her 
 brother will be! I hope Mr. Charles will yes 
 here they come, Dick! run to the apothecary's 
 for some .sal volatile. Deborah, bring a glass 
 of water directly this way, Sir I'll assist you. 
 [place$ a chair] Bless me! why don't some- 
 body do something ! I never saw such people in 
 all my life ! 
 
 [Capers about, doing nothing. Chailes and 
 "William bring in Sophia Pointer, insensible, 
 and place her in the chair. Deborah enters uitlt 
 a glass oj voter, and assists to recover her.] 
 
 Chari.es. Thank Heaven ! she has received no 
 hurt the fright, alone, has overcome her. Wil- 
 liam.
 
 A COMEDY. 27 
 
 liaui, your brave assistance has added to what 
 1 am already in your debt, another obligation. 
 
 Willm. To be sure there's an obligation for 
 every body to assist when any body else is in 
 danger of their lives. Oh ! t'lady comes to, you 
 see when she's quite well, I'll just step and see 
 what's become o' t'poor horses. 
 
 Trian. I believe that lias been the young 
 gentleman's care how d'ye do ma'am ? 
 
 Sophia, [recovering] Was my brother hurt? 
 
 Charles. No, madam, he was not in the 
 plucton. 
 
 Sophia. True I remember now Oh, Sir! 
 whoever you are, what can make amends for the 
 service you have done me ? 
 
 Charles. Your quick; recovery will over- 
 pay me. 
 
 Sophia. That glass of water has revived me. 
 
 Willm. [apart to Charles] Aye, but if young 
 madam had but a drop o'siimmat in it, just to 
 qualify it, 
 
 Charles. Hush for Heaven's sake, 
 
 Sophia. I am almost well, and will give you 
 no further trouble, [rising] 
 
 Charles. William, run for our carriage. 
 
 [Exit William. 
 
 Your brother, madam, may wish to see you 
 home, or, if I might venture to request 
 
 Sophia. You shou'd command, Sir! We are 
 
 pn a visit to lord and lady Rigid, some miles off 
 
 e 2 believe
 
 28 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 believe me, Iamembarrass'd in the extreme, for 
 words to acknowledge so signal a rescue from 
 destruction. I hope ypu have not suffered in 
 effecting it? 
 
 Charlks. Not in the least madam, [she 
 turns to give money to Deborah] unless, indeed, 
 the impression what a blockhead am I ! every 
 fine woman sets me in heroics; but one like 
 this, I never yet beheld ! 
 
 Triax. [to Sophia] Wou'd you do me the 
 favour to walk into a room less public. Mr. 
 Charles will have the honour to escort you. 
 The carriage will soon be here, Ma'am. 
 
 Sophia. And my brother 
 
 Charles. I'll seek him this instant. 
 
 Trian. Better let me do that he's hard by, 
 ma'am Deborah, shew the reading room that 
 way Madam. [Exit Sophia, led by Charles.] 
 A most delectable young lady, sure enough ! 
 now if we divide this accident into its ali- 
 quot parts we may find that Jhree-fourths of 
 two-sixths of the people who drive high phae- 
 tons, ought to 
 
 He-enter ir Harry. 
 
 Sir Harry. Well come so far all's well. 
 Iv'e order'd 'cm all to be bled; and if they catch 
 no cold from the excessive heat, and exertion 
 why Eh where's my sister? 
 
 Triax.
 
 A COMEDY. 29 
 
 Trian. In the next roc m Sir, with a young- 
 gentleman, who lias probably preserved her 
 beautiful white neck from a vulgar fraction. 
 
 Sir Harry. Bless me! I had forgot him I'm 
 sure he was very kind, for his own horse has slipt 
 his shoulder; but I saw him taken care of, as 
 well as my own. Who is the young man ? 
 
 Trian. Son to the rich merchant I spoke of. 
 
 Sir Harry. Oh ! Which way, did you say? 
 
 Trian. This way, Sir. Your horses are not 
 hurt then? 
 
 Sir Harry. No ; nor.I wou'dn'tbave had 'em 
 hurt for a half my estate. I have four sets 
 complete and, as I never cross a horse that 
 can't drink out of a cup of his own winnings 
 'twould puzzle even your schoolmaster's art of 
 calculation to put a proper value on 'em. 
 
 Trian. You'll pardon me there, Sir; for, ac- 
 cording to the well-known progression of Arith- 
 metic, if you were only to ask a farthing for the 
 iirst horse, a halfpenny for the second, and so 
 double it till you came to the twentieth, you 
 might even take in the knowing ones. 
 
 Sir Harry. Psha ! you're as ignorant as if 
 you had never seen a stable in all your life. 
 
 [Exit into the school-room, and instantly returns 
 
 Why, zounds, I've made a mistake, and got 
 into the school-room. 
 
 [Goes into the reading room. 
 
 Trian.
 
 so GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Trian. Now, in my opinion, yon made a 
 greater mistake in coming out of it, before vou 
 had finished your education. 
 
 Enter a Servant in a rich livery. 
 
 Servant. Pray, are Sir Harry, and Miss 
 Pointer, here? 
 
 Trian. Who, young man ? 
 
 Sera~ant. Sir Harry Pointer, and his Sister, 
 The young lady who had like to have been 
 thrown out. 
 
 Trian*. Oh, ves is the brother a Baronet? 
 I took him for a horse dealer ! Yes, they are in 
 the next room. 
 
 Servant. Then, be so good as say lord and 
 lady Rigid are in the village, and having heard 
 of the accident, will call in a few minutes to wait 
 on the lady home. [Exit. 
 
 Trian. Lord and Lady Rigid ! dear me, I 
 shall have my house full of elegant company ! 
 Ilere'll be another bustle! Here, Deborah! tell 
 lord Rigid no, I menu, tell Dicky No. I'll 
 tell him myself His lordship's name would cut 
 a pretty figure at the top of the subscription book 
 and if' 1 can but muster up courage to ask - 
 or, perhaps, Mr. Charles wOu'd ask him or I 
 could make one of the boys write a letter, or 
 
 E.iter Sir Harry, Charles, and Sophia, from the 
 reading room. 
 
 Sir. Harry, 1 beg pardon for not knowing*' 
 
 your
 
 A COMEDY. si 
 
 your title sooner; but the right honourable 
 lord Rigid's servant has been here, to say that 
 his lordship, and her ladyship, will wait on 
 your sister immediately. 
 
 Sir Harry. That's lueky! his lordship said 
 ho shou'd drive this way. 
 
 Enter William. 
 
 Willm. Carriage is ready, Sir. 
 
 Sophia, [to Charles.] We shall have no oc- 
 casion, now, to intrude; but is not this the 
 young man, who so readily took me out of the 
 pha?ton, while you were stopping the horses? 
 
 WiLLM. I am sure madam, I meant no of- 
 fence. I handled your ladyship rather rudely, 
 I believe; because I thought when a lady of 
 fashion gets a tumble, her garments be too fine 
 to save her from the hard ground, and so follow- 
 ing so, there wasn't overmuch time for com- 
 pliments, or happen I should have been a bit 
 more mannerly. 
 
 Sophia [offers a purse] Pray, oblige me by 
 accepting this. 
 
 Wl llji. Has master been paid for doing his 
 duty? 
 
 Si a II a it it y. Oh, your master's a gentleman, 
 you know. 
 
 V/illm. Yes, Sir ; I do know, and I always 
 likes to follow a gentleman's example, I did so 
 m helping that beautiful lady, as master called 
 
 her
 
 sa GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 her Why, yes you did, Sir you know you did 
 And if he thought the action too good to be 
 paid for, I don't see any harm in a poor man's 
 taking pattern by his betters. [Exit. 
 
 Trias. That lad went to my school ! and 
 wants nothing but good reading and writing to 
 make him a credit to me. 
 
 Sophia, [to Charles] You must assist me in 
 some mode of acknowledging his disinterested 
 worth. 
 
 Charles. You see the force of female ac- 
 complishments, madam if honest William had 
 been of any use to your brother, instead of you, 
 he'd have accepted whatever gratuity he chose 
 to offer. 
 
 Sir Harry. And welcome, to; I'd rather 
 give five guineas than have my neck broke, at 
 any time. 
 
 Enter Lord and Lady Rigid. 
 
 Sophia. My dear lady Rigid, this is atten- 
 tion indeed ; but for the gallantly of this gen- 
 tleman, and the intrepidity of his servant, we 
 had never met again in this world. 
 
 Lady Rigid. I congratulate you sincerely 
 on your fortunate escape. May we learn to 
 jphom we are indebted ? 
 
 Lord Rigid. Is it possible you do not know 
 Mr. Balance, the gentleman who did me the 
 honour to oppose me in the last Lection ? 
 
 Charlt s
 
 A COMEDY. S3 
 
 Charles. That opposition arose from no 
 want of respect to you, my Lord, but from in- 
 dispensable obedience to the commands of a 
 father. 
 
 Lord Rigid. There my Lady another proof 
 how fortunate other people are in their chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Lady Rigid. Pray, my lord, consider we are 
 observed. 
 
 Sir Haury. Oh ! true They tell me, nvy 
 Lord, your Son is rather a sort of a 
 
 Lord Rigid. Sir! have you any thing to 
 say against my son ? 
 
 Sir Harry. O dear, no, not I it was 
 
 Trian. [much alarmed] No, my Lord ; no- 
 body here ever said a word against him. I'm 
 sure I took no small pains to convince this 
 gentleman, that all the ill-natured reports, which, 
 by the bye, are in every body's mouth 
 
 Lord Rigid. And, did you dare ? 
 
 [Triangle gets out of the way.] 
 
 Sir Harry. Zounds ! No ! Your Lordship 
 mistakes the man he said your son was 
 
 Lady Rigid. It is not necessary to say more 
 here It will be for this young lady t o ass her 
 opinion on his merits as it is our intention to 
 call for him at the Hermitage. 
 
 F Lord
 
 34 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Lord Rigid [apart to Sophia] Miss Pointer, 
 I shall once more repeat to you, that it was your 
 father's last wish our families should be united, 
 and most of your fortune comes into my pos- 
 session, unless you marry Edmond Rigid. 
 
 Sir Harry, [who had listened] Yes; but it 
 was hardly fair of father not to leave the 
 money to me, in case Sophy refuses. 
 
 Sophia. I have only to regret that the money 
 was left at all had my father lived, I should 
 have been less delicately situated. 
 
 Lord Rigid. You will always find me scru- 
 pulously just. I never broke a promise, or in- 
 fringed on a rule once laid down in my life. 
 
 Lady Rigid. It wou'd have been better if 
 you had. 
 
 Lord Rigid. It does not become you to 
 say so. 
 
 Sophia. Shall I attend your ladyship ? But 
 we forget my preserver. 
 
 Sir Harry. Odsheart ! dont let's do that 
 Your lordship must ask him to dinner. 
 
 Lord Rigid. I beg pardon ; but I have made 
 a rule to ask no visitors who havVt first left 
 their -cards at Rigid House, or to whom I have 
 not been honour'd with a formal introduction. 
 
 Charles. And I have made it a rule never 
 
 to intrude, nor even to suffer the most attractive 
 
 motive [looking at Sophia] to carry me into 
 
 any sphere, where my independence, as the son 
 
 5 of
 
 A COMEDY. S5 
 
 of a British Merchant wou'd be degraded by the 
 want of a cordial reception. 
 
 Lord Rigid. You mistake me, Sir! it is not 
 my plan to offend any one. You have acted 
 nobly by my Ward ; in return, if there is any 
 thing you would ask, which my influence can 
 effect, either in favour of yourself or friends, 
 you or they shall readily command it. 
 
 Tin an - , [apart to Charles] Ask him to sub- 
 scribe to my library. 
 
 Charles. Shou'd circumstances render a re- 
 quest from me either proper or necessary, I shall 
 certainly avail myself of your Lordship's po- 
 liteness. 
 
 Lord Rigid. And I shall be punctual in the 
 observance of my word. Come, Ladies- good 
 morning, Sir. 
 
 Charles, [to Sophia, as they go out] Miss 
 Sophia! 
 
 Sophia, [earnestly] I hope we shall meet 
 again. 
 
 [Ex. Lord and Lady Rigid, and Sophia.] 
 
 Sir Harry, [to Charles.] Give us your hand, 
 heartily you and I must be better acquainted, 
 and if old Regulus won't ask you to dine 
 with him, come, and dine with me at the King's 
 Arms. The place must be agreeable, for my 
 horses are there and I shall neither drive them 
 f 2 home,
 
 36 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 home, nor giveaway my sister till- 1 like, to 
 please the fifst lord in the land. 
 
 Charles. 'For an hour or two I am engaged, 
 Sir; but name your time, and I accept your in- 
 vitation. 
 
 Sir Harry. Do you ? that's hearty ! Wemust 
 dine early, because I've some way to go Say 
 four for half past, and I'll be with you at five to 
 a certainty. [Exit. 
 
 Trian. That's some new fashionable way 
 of counting, I suppose^ don't you think so, 
 Sir? 
 
 Charles. Think ! I think I never savr 
 such a delightful girl in my life ? 
 
 Trian. Nor I I wish she had put down her 
 name its such a pretty one. Sophia! She's a 
 namesake of Sophia Western What a happy 
 man he must be ! 
 
 Charles. Happy, indeed! but I fear in- 
 sensible. 
 
 Trian. No doubt of that he's been on the 
 shelf in my shop these two months. 
 
 Charles. He! Who? 
 
 Trian. Tom Jones. 
 
 Charles Damn Tom Jones ! it shall be so 
 I'll seek my friend Edmond instantly and if 
 it interferes not with the happiness of a friend, 
 and she consents, not all the rules nor all the 
 Kigids in creation shall keep me from Sophia. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Trian.
 
 A COMEDY. 37 
 
 Trian. I believe this is the first day of my 
 introduction to very fashionable acquaintance* 
 And this is the first time I've had my house 
 quite full of company, who took no more notice 
 of the master of it, than if he was a post, and 
 left him not one halfpenny the better for their 
 gracious condescension. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A parlour at Major Corslet's, at 
 the back a bow window open to the ground, look- 
 ing into a flower garden, where several stands 
 of ruin 'd flower pots are seen, and others in 
 the recess of the window. 
 
 Suzette enters from the garden, cautiously look- 
 ing round. 
 
 Suzette. Not here ! O heavens ! with what 
 terror do I steal through apartments where oft I 
 have bounded with delight to meet a much-lov- 
 ed father Spirit of parental justice, if the un- 
 fortunate Suzette be permitted a hearing, haply 
 she may appease thy angry dictates. A whole 
 year has passed since. Hark ! 'tis his well-known 
 footstep ! I cannot summon courage yet to meet 
 him [retiring'] I will pursue my first intention, 
 and, by a well-meant stratagem, discover how 
 far an offending child may dare his presence. 
 [Exit through the garden. 
 
 Enter
 
 S8 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Enter the Major, ruminating. 
 
 Major. Yes, yes she feels as well as I do 
 and she wrote in the Journal " Let him only 
 " call those flowers by the name of Suzette, that 
 " are blasted by lightning, and broken by a 
 " tempest,'* [looks towards the flower sta?ids] 
 All the favourites were called Suzette once 
 They bloom'd fresh, young, and beautiful they 
 droop'd, they were destroy 'd therefore they 
 may be call'd Suzette now I hate the sight of 
 them there are other windows in the room, to 
 give light, as well as this [draws a curtain be- 
 fore, the garden whidow] I'm glad, however, the 
 neighbours dont know I really went to seek the 
 Girl. 
 
 Enter Gregory (an old Servant). 
 
 Gregory. Sir, Mrs. Nancy has got a letter 
 from her master, Squire Balance, and wishes to 
 know if she may deliver it. 
 
 Nancy enters. 
 
 Now, who bid you come up without leave ? 
 
 Nancy. Sir ! Major Corslet, mayn't I come 
 in? 
 
 Major. Yesrno matter who comes now. 
 There was a time, when the sound of a female 
 
 voice
 
 A COMEDY. S9 
 
 voice at that door always announced pleasure 
 to me. 
 
 Gregory. Ay, that was in Miss's time: but 
 I'll never mention 'her to your honour, I'm de- 
 termined. [Exit, 
 
 Nancy. I'm sure, Sir, I came with all the 
 pleasure in the world with this note from my 
 master. William was to have brought it ; but 
 he's not in the way: and I wou'dn't have him 
 get anger on any account. 
 
 Major. I had determined to receive no more 
 messages form your master to open no more 
 notes. 
 
 Nancy. Then shall I open him for you, Sir? 
 
 Major, [taking it.] No your master's a 
 man of no resolution that's what I dislike him 
 for he quarrels, relents, and never sticks to his 
 purpose as I do. You see, it was by mere acci- 
 dent I broke the seal. 
 
 Nancy. I'm sure, Sir, if you knew how he 
 talks of you, and as for Mr. Amen, the parish 
 clerk, he has sent for him, and given him such 
 a mortal set-down on your account You never 
 knew the like. 
 
 Ma j o r. What 's Mr. Amen to me ? 
 
 Nancy. I was in hopes such a thing wou'd'nt 
 come to your knowledge, Sir ; I'm sure, if it was 
 any book but a church book, I'd tear the leaf 
 i*ut with my own hands. 
 
 Major.
 
 40 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Major. What leaf? 
 
 Nancy. Every body do know what that web 
 do mean, and are only puzzled to make out who 
 the wicked spider stands for in the middle of it. 
 
 Major. Spider ! Web ! What the devil do 
 you mean ? 
 
 Nancy. Nay, Sir, you musn't mind it it's 
 quite a common thing in our parish, when any 
 unfortunate girl 
 
 Major. I comprehend It's all as it shou'd be 
 Mr. Amen is in the right It is his duty to 
 set up beacons and warnings, and webs, to cau- 
 tion female flies not to play around the flame* 
 He's a much younger man than 1 but if this 
 cane don't fly across his back, may it fail to pro- 
 tect its master against scoundrels I 
 
 Enter William, 
 
 Willm. Sir ! master has sent me to know if 
 you have got a note that 
 
 Nancy. Yes, William ; I brought it. Won't 
 you read it, Sir? 
 
 Major. There are no spiders in it, are there? 
 Let's see Come, I'll make a fool of myself once 
 more, and shake hands with your master for the 
 last time ; return to my cottage ; lock myself 
 from the world, nor shall the voice of the 
 Syren herself tempt me from my solitude a 
 single step [reads.] " Intelligence to astonish, 
 *' and, perhaps, delight you, News of your 
 
 " daughter'^
 
 -A COINED Y. 41 
 
 daughter" stand from the door, you blockhead 
 -don't you know you master's waiting- for me ? 
 you master- mind, I don't go on the girts ac- 
 count no if she was even zounds ! what 
 an old fool I am to stand prating here all this 
 time. [Edit. 
 
 Willm. Poor gentleman ! what a sad thing 
 it be, you see, Nancy, when young women are 
 too easily given to listen to young men ! There's 
 no knowing, as one may, what may be the end 
 on't. 
 
 Nancy. No, William there is no knowing. 
 
 Willm. You and I, you see, may consider 
 the old gentleman as a sort of a moral to all 
 young lovers. 
 
 Nancy. You and /, William ? 
 
 Willm. Yes ; for when folk get all alone by 
 themselves, and nobody with them, and talk 
 about these sort o'matters as we do. 
 
 Nancy. We talk, William ! I'm sure I 
 haven't said a syllable. 
 
 Willm. Nor I don't wish you r-so sit down 
 I ha' been thinking how soon mischances 
 do take place we both know the untimely ru- 
 ination of the major's daughter, and, to day, I 
 ha' Seen as fine a young woman as ever open'd a 
 pair of fine eyes, that, hadn't it been for master 
 Charles, wou'd ha' shut 'em for ever. 
 
 Nancy. Do you like fine eyes, William ? 
 
 Willm. Yes, in a lady; but talk of eyes, 
 G hers
 
 42 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 hers are no more to compare to yours than 
 
 Nancy. Hush i tell me of the lady and so 
 she was run away with by some sad man, I 
 suppose? 
 
 Willm. No; by four long-tailed grey Gal- 
 loways and so I was thinking as accidents come 
 before we look for 'em, if any thing was to hap- 
 pen to me, why. perhaps, you wou'dn't feel al- 
 together so comfortable as vou do at this 
 moment. 
 
 Nancy. Dear me, William, how you do 
 talk! 
 
 Willm. So, having saved up a small matter 
 in sarvice, I thought fit to let you know, that 
 if I shou'd die before we get wed, which shan't 
 happen, if I can help it, you'll find in the right 
 hand corner of the left little drawer, in my chest, 
 a small bag, containing all my worldly property, 
 in money, which together with my wearing ap- 
 peal, you are welcome to make use of, whenever 
 you please. 
 
 Nancy. Me! wear your apparel, William ! 
 why, what a foolish man ! you've made me cry, 
 as if it was all in earnest. 
 
 Willm. And it is in earnest And it's agreat 
 pleasure to me to make you cry, for it shews that 
 you be good, and tender hearted. And therefore 
 it is to be hoped, that whenever your loving kind- 
 ness and good nature brings you into danger 
 from the fal.sehcartcdncss of mankind [taking ha- 
 ll and]
 
 A COMED Y. 4S 
 
 hand] you'll never want the guardian angel of 
 prudence to take care of you; and if/shou'd 
 ever be so wicked as to mean you any harm, 
 and so following, that my conscience may say- 
 to me 
 
 Su z ette. [suddenly drafting the window cur- 
 tain'] William ! 
 
 Nancy. Bless me, William ! what was that ? 
 
 Suzette comes forward. 
 
 Willm. Goodness look down upon us, and 
 keep us from all manner of misfortunes, if that 
 isn't the ghost of madam Suzette, never trust 
 me ! 
 
 Suzette. Don't he alarm'd I didn't wil- 
 lingly listen to you ; hut as my moments here are 
 very precious, and you seemed to forget you 
 were in a strange house, I was obliged to inter- 
 rupt you. 
 
 Willm. I am very glad you did, and so is 
 Nancy, I dare say. 
 
 Nancy. Me ! I am sure I have no reason to 
 be glad. 
 
 Suzette, I hope you were making no bad 
 use of her good opinion. 
 
 Nancy. No, Miss, he was making his will. 
 
 Suzette. I know the absence of my father, and 
 come here to make an experiment which admits 
 no loss of time ; but, as you hope to be happy 
 in each other, do not, pray do not betray me. 
 
 g 2 Willm,
 
 44 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Wj llm. Never, Miss- William isnot the man, 
 nor she neither, to betray a seoret, especially 
 when it hasn't been told us, 
 
 Suzette. I only wish you to conceal your 
 having seen me; but you, no doubt, think it cri- 
 minal to favour a wretch who has embittered the 
 latter days of an indulgent father. 
 
 Nancy. I'm sure we always were sorry, very 
 sorry for you ; and so was your poor father, miss 
 he never would bear the sight of a single 
 flower of your planting, and has often said, that 
 goodness and garden-pots, when once nipt in 
 the bud, never flourish any more. 
 
 Suzette. Perhaps he may be able, without 
 disgrace, to pardon an offending child, or should 
 he not, his flowers may bloom again. 
 
 Nancy. But not like what they used to be 
 when you planted them. 
 
 Wi llm. Aye, then they were so beautiful on 
 the right, and on the left, and in the middle I 
 think I see 'em now, just like 
 
 Sv z ett f. Like this ? (draws the curtain, and 
 discovers all the stands beautifully replenished) 
 
 Nancy. Why, sure as sure, we be all be- 
 witch'd ! 
 
 W r llm. We had better go indeed, for, some- 
 how, I begin to feel a little queerish. 
 
 Suzette. There is nothing to be alarm'd at 
 
 you have only to be faithful to your promise, 
 
 and perhaps the innocence of Suzette may thus 
 
 1 appear
 
 A COMEDY. 45 
 
 appear with renovated life, while a parent's for- 
 giveness, like the all-cheering sun, shall cherish 
 its return, and ensure its continuance. [Exit. 
 
 Willm. I don't exactly understand all that 
 but we'll go home, and keep her secret safe, 
 and, as Mr. Triangle says, if I had as many lives 
 as Plutarch, I never shou'd forget how suddenly 
 purely she did pop in a top of us. \ Exeunt. 
 
 End of Act II,
 
 40 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 act in. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 An apartment at Mr. Balance's. 
 
 Enter Balance and the Major. 
 
 Balance. But doesn't this carry something 
 like confolation with it? The servant said she 
 was married, and looked well and contented. 
 
 Ma jo it. How cJ3ie she look well and content- 
 ed, when her poor old father, for aught she 
 knows, may be breaking his heart. 
 
 Balance. Come, come I foresee that her 
 return is the prelude to a reconciliation. 
 
 Major. Which must be acted without me 
 and I begin to suspect that you have some 
 share in the plot of it. 
 
 Balance. I wish I had, Major any plot 
 that has domestic peace for its object deserves 
 to be applauded. Nay, don't go stay here, 
 and let us have one of our old-fashioned social 
 evenings together. 
 
 Major. No; I'll "go home I'm fit for no 
 place else besides, she may call. 
 
 Balance. Who may call ? 
 
 Major. Who ! Why, thy daugh now, what 
 
 an
 
 A COMEDY. 47 
 
 an old, insinuating, pumping, sly piece of 
 artifice thou art. You've found me out, you 
 think. 
 
 Balance. Long ago, Major you have all 
 the proper feelings of a man, except that of not 
 heing ashamed of 'em. 
 
 Major. Perhaps, Sir, you think I wish for 
 the day to reconcile me to Suzette, as much as 
 she does. 
 
 Balance. I'm sure of it. 
 
 Major. And I'm asham'd of it. It is not 
 for ourselves we shou'd pardon or punish our 
 children 'tis for society and if my daughter 
 is to be restored to the privileges she has forfeit- 
 ed, because I am an easy blockhead, every 
 father has a right to accuse me of taking from 
 innocence the just belief, that her path once 
 quitted, is seldom thoroughly regained. So, 
 let's talk of something else. You didn't happen 
 to hear who this husband of her's is, did you? 
 
 Balance. I thought you wish'd to change 
 the conversation. 
 
 Major. So I did I had no intention to 
 speak of her when I asked about her husband. 
 I only wanted to know if the poor little inno- 
 cent child Why, what do you laugh at, you 
 heard-hearted Hottentot ? The infant never 
 offended me. 
 
 Balance. True; and if the father is an 
 honest man 
 
 Major,
 
 48 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Major. And, provided the girl is really 
 married. 
 
 Balance. Come, I know you'll make us all 
 happy I know you'll act as you ought, and 
 that when you do forgive, you'll do it heartily. 
 
 Major. You do as you like hoth with her 
 and me. I hope she'll bring the child not 
 that I shall see it at first. 
 
 Balance. Do you mean to send for her ? 
 
 Major. No ; but you do, don't you ? 
 
 Balance. Upon my honour, I know not 
 where to find her : but the moment she re-appears, 
 I shall have ample intelligence. 
 
 Major. Well, then, you shall go home with 
 me; and if the old cottage is to look gay once 
 more, the smile of friendship will best prepare 
 it for the return of paternal pleasure. 
 
 Balance. With all my heart. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Balance and Triangle. 
 
 Balance. My dear, I am glad to leave you 
 in such entertaining company. I am going to 
 pass an hour with the Major to whom I have 
 been relating something I heard about a certain 
 lady in a carriage, who 
 
 Major, [apart] My daughter, of course. 
 
 Trian. Oh, that's all over the town by this 
 time. 4 
 
 Balance. Indeed! 
 
 Trian.
 
 A COMEDY. 49 
 
 Trian. The horses set off with her never 
 saw any thing so tremendous in all my life. 
 
 Ba l a n c e. What ! set off with her ? 
 
 Trian. Full gallop. 
 
 Balance. Was she hurt? 
 
 Trian. I believe not your son, Charles, is 
 the man after all and if the other gentleman 
 don't take care, spiders webs may not be con- 
 fined to- {Balance stops his mouth.'] 
 
 Major. Cease your impertinence, and tell 
 me whether Suzette has suffered from being run 
 away with ? 
 
 Trian. Why, really, that question is such 
 a delicate one 
 
 Mrs. Balance. He only means, that you 
 men are so unmindful of females, that a dashing 
 baronet left his sister to the mercy of a phaeton 
 and four, while he was talking nonsense in a 
 news-room. 
 
 Trian. In the hall, Madam. Nonsense and 
 my news-room are incompatible. 
 
 Major. Why, this has nothing to do with 
 my daughter ? 
 
 Trian. Not that I know of, upon my 
 honour. 
 
 Balance. Well, but what has it to do with 
 my son ? 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Your son behaved like a 
 
 man, and saved a fine young woman, who was 
 
 / H on
 
 So GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 on her way to be married to young Rigid, thr 
 Reprobate. N 
 
 Balance. Saved her! what, from the 
 marriage ? 
 
 Trian. No, fir; from the stocks, in the 
 market-place : for if he hadn't stopt the horses- 
 where he did, she'd have been overturn'd there 
 to a certainty. 
 
 Ma j o r. And sooner than a daughter of mine 
 shou'd marry such a monster as young Rigid, 
 she shou'd sit in the stocks all her life-time. 
 
 [Goes tip stage.'] 
 
 Balance. Well: but who is this voumr 
 lady ? 
 
 Mrs. Balance. We don't know; but Mr. 
 Triangle says her brother is quite a character, 
 whose conversation is 
 
 Trian. Always in the stable, Madam a per- 
 fect Gulliver from the Houyhnhnms he asked 
 Mr. Charles to visit him ; if he does, I dare say, 
 he'll find his valet de chambre, a farrier ; his 
 cook, a bit-maker ; his house built in the form 
 of a horse-shoe, and nothing for dinner but a 
 saddle of mutton. 
 
 Balance. But, is the girl pretty? 
 
 Trian. Geometrically perfect : her figure 
 is the line of beauty, each of her eyes a circle 
 of enchantment, her face oval,, her nose a right- 
 angled triangle ; her waist an elegant inverted 
 cone ; and her pretty little feet taper as a pair of 
 compasses. 
 
 Mrs.
 
 A' COMEDY. 5| 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Then, Charles, I suppose, is 
 over head and ears ? 
 
 Trian. He has entered a servitor in Cupid's 
 college, and if lie rinds a fellowship in the lady's 
 affection, wou'd willingly quit his batchelor's 
 degree to become head of a family. 
 
 Balance. Then you may tell him, Sir, that 
 I am one head of this family, and there is the 
 other (pointing to Mrs. B.) And that not all 
 the geometrical figures, triangular eyes, and 
 circular noses in the world, shall excuse his 
 giving himself away without our permission. 
 
 Major, (comes forward) Come, come along, 
 friend Balance. I can think of nothing now, 
 but this girl of mine. 
 
 Balance. Well, but, my dear, I beg Mr. 
 Triangle will tell you how far Charles is con- 
 cerned in this affair. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Ay, ay, I'll get all out of 
 him, you may depend. 
 
 Major. Was ever any thing so stupid as a 
 doating old father ! Here are you talking about 
 Charles, who is quite old enough to take care of 
 himself, while my daughter may yes, she may 
 be waiting for us at home. 
 
 Balance. Was ever anything so stupid as 
 a doating old father ! 
 
 [Exit with the Major. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. And, now, Sir, with regard 
 h 2 to
 
 52 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 to Charles, you say, that, when the lady was 
 gone 
 
 Trian. Yes, Ma'am, when she was gone, I 
 express'd my wonder to Mr. Charles at her not 
 offering to peruse my triple list of scholars, sub- 
 scribers, and news readers I'm sure the library 
 ladies are of the first fashion by their being so 
 plaguy hard to please There's lady Gothic, 
 you see, at the head of them. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Fiddle of lady Gothic! so, 
 Charles 
 
 Trian. Don't say a word against lady Gothic 
 She's the best customer I have to my back 
 Reads marvellous romances all day; sups full 
 with honors every night, and hangs her great 
 hall full of black plumes, brazen bucklers, steel 
 gloves, and iron skull-caps, 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Yes, truly, her wonderful 
 books are so overcharged with spirits, that she 
 cou'dn't read by candle light, without setting 
 her house on fire. 
 
 Trian. Which enabled her to build a new one 
 in the old style, in which all the furniture is most 
 venerably inconvenient, and there isn't a dresser 
 in the kitchen, that doesn't put one in mind of 
 Arthur's round table. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Well, Sir, if you will but 
 oblige me with what paded between Charles and 
 the lad}', I'll double my subscription directly. 
 
 Trtan. Will you ? Then Til just read a small 
 
 prospectus
 
 A COMEDY. 53 
 
 prospectus I have drawn up, setting forth 'he 
 several advantages of each establishment, and 
 concluding with a poetical invitation to those 
 who are fatigued with learning and politics, to 
 take recreation in the regions of Romance, 
 which, in eighteen lines I have thus described. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Nay, but if you won't favour 
 me 
 
 Trian. O yes, I will ; sit down, and I'll 
 favour you directly, [she sits reluctantly he 
 reads] 
 
 "My cottage, tho' small, noble company owns; 
 
 You'll meet such at very few tables : 
 I breakfast with Pamela, dine with Tom Jones, 
 And sup with the beasts in Gay's Fables" 
 Mrs. Balance, [with impatience.] Very 
 clever ! and so the lady and Charles 
 Trian. [reads.] 
 
 " With Peregrine Pickle I season my fare, 
 And when weary I lay down my head, 
 I've Sir Launcelot Greaves 
 To keep out the thieves, 
 While I take Betsy Thoughtless to bed." 
 Mrs. Balance, [rises] Well, if ever 1 
 heard 
 
 Enter William. 
 Willm. Madam, my master left word 
 TttiAN. Hush, William ! 
 [William whispers Mrs. Balance, who goes out. 
 William sits down in her chair, and Triangle 
 not observing him, continues reading.] 
 
 ** " Tho*
 
 54 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 f* Tho' my guests are of note, no distinction, 
 is seen, 
 From the rank of a king to a tinker, 
 And oft Clary Harlowe, as fine as a queen, 
 
 Reposes on Humphrey Clinker. 
 Don Quixote with Roderick Random agrees, 
 As bound in good manners to do so ; 
 And smart Peter Pindar 
 Cock'd up in the window, 
 Looks down upon Robinson Crusoe. 
 [Towards the last two or three lines Triangle 
 rises with the energy of repetition, and at the 
 conclusion looks down to the chair, where he 
 supposes Mrs. Balance to be sitting, and to 
 his surprise sees William.] 
 Willm. I've read Robinson Crusoe, he lived 
 on an uninhabited island, where the folks were 
 all black, and wanted to feast upon Friday. 
 Trian. I thought your lady was sitting here. 
 Willm. Yes, Sir, but when you talked of 
 taking Miss Betsy to bed, she thought it time 
 to rise. 
 
 Trian. And how dare you take the liberty of 
 sitting in presence of a preceptor, who blushes 
 for your ignorance ? 
 
 Willm. It's kind of you, Sir, to do more for 
 me than you would for yourself. 
 
 Trian. But what can one expect from a 
 blockhead, whose scholarship never went further 
 than Dilworth ; and who, unable to imbibe a 
 taste for letters beyond words of five syllables, 
 
 ran
 
 A COMEDY. 65 
 
 tan away frorn school because his last lesson 
 was in-com-pre-hen-si-ble. [Exit 
 
 Willm. And so it was and if I cou'dn't 
 understand it, I'm not the only young man that 
 left off after learning just enough to confuse 
 him. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A romantic garden at Edmond 
 Rigid's [on one side a Pavilion]. 
 Enter Lord and Lady Rigid, and Sophia. 
 [The latter walks up the stage.] 
 Lady Rigid. Nay, my lord, why so impa- 
 tient ? our having called on Edmond was un- 
 expected on his part. I'm sure he meant no 
 disrespect to you ; but so conscious was I how 
 he would feel on the occasion, that I have 
 ordered the coach to remain. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Your ladyship was right and 
 we'll instantly profit by your foresight. 
 
 Lady Rigid. And yet, perhaps, if you were 
 to return to him or shall 1 endeavour to con- 
 vince him ? 
 
 Lord Rigid. No ; I have forbidden him to 
 speak to you, me, or any of the family, until he 
 accepts this lady as his wife. 
 
 [Sophia comes forward.] 
 Lady Rigid. Shall Sophia speak to him? 
 she seems to wish it. 
 
 Lord Rigid.. To what purpose ? 
 Soph. To entreat him, for my sake at least, 
 
 if
 
 56 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 if not for his own, never to offer his hand, 
 where affection, on either side has so little chance 
 to follow its acceptance. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Indeed ! I confess young lady,, 
 I did not expect quite so much as this from you. 
 
 Soph. Nor did my father expect from his 
 friend, that a trust so sacred as his daughter's 
 welfare should be made the sport of family 
 convenience. 
 
 Lord Rigid. I make it a rule never to dispute 
 with ladies, and shall only observe that the 
 carriage is at the gate. 
 
 Enter Charles. 
 
 I did not look for this pleasure quite so early, 
 Sir. 
 
 Charles. It was equally unhoped by me, 
 my lord I called on some business with Mr. 
 Rigid by your preparing to depart, I fear he is 
 from home. 
 
 Lord Rigid. You'll find him here, at the Her- 
 mitage, Sir ; but he is far enough from home 
 with respect to his duty ladies. 
 
 Charles. With your permission, I'll conduct 
 Miss Sophia. 
 
 Lady Rigid. You have hers, I dare swear, 
 Sir. 
 
 Charles, [while leading off Sophia], Delight- 
 ful accident ! 
 
 Lady Rigid. My lord, what do you mean 
 to do ? 
 
 Lord
 
 A COMEDY. 57 
 
 Lord Rigid. To follow that gentleman very 
 closely : for he seems to have done more towards 
 forming that girl's opinion in one hour, than 
 your ladyship and I have been able to accom- 
 plish in the course of a whole guardianship. 
 
 {Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Edmond Rigid on the opposite aide. 
 
 Edmoxd; I wished to have exchanged some 
 words with lady Rigid, free from the presence of 
 a witness but, 'tis no matter. Hope and dis- 
 appointment have formed so close an alliance 
 in whatever relates to me, that my mind begins 
 to feel but little from their usual succession to 
 each other; 
 
 Re-enter Charles. 
 Charles, my friend ! your visits here have been 
 so rare, and I am honoured with so i'ew from 
 others, unless on subjects tit' an unpleasant 
 nature, that I can ill dispense with them. 
 
 Charles; I came now* on two accounts, 
 each of which materially concerns us both. 
 
 Edmond. Relate them. 
 
 Charles. I am id a double state of danger^ 
 from which you only can relieve mi*, for I, at 
 this moment, run the hazard of falling most 
 desperately in love, and of losing the friend I 
 have hitherto been most attached to. 
 
 Edmond. Your language is more earnest 
 than what you often use. How can my assist 3 
 ance serve the love affair ? 
 
 Charles. By your candidly telling me, whe-* 
 I iher
 
 58 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY; 
 
 ther the attentions it would be my pride to pay 
 the young lady, who has just left the Hermitage* 
 would injure any prospect you have formed. 
 
 Edmond. You, perhaps, mean Sophia, though 
 I never heard you mention her before. 
 
 Charles. I never saw her till to-day.; nor, 
 till to-day 
 
 Edmond. Knew what it was to love ! Well, 
 Sir, win her, and wear her. My father's pro- 
 posing her at this moment, as my wife, is as 
 unfortunate a circumstance to me, as you wou'd 
 call the loss of her to you. 
 
 Charles, I have been so happy as to render 
 her a service. I am going to dine with her 
 brother, and have no fear of obtaining his con- 
 sent; but now to the remainder of my business 
 with you. 
 
 Edmond. Which relates to the apprehended 
 loss of your friend. 
 
 Charles. Edmond, you are under an en- 
 gagement to relate your story to me. The time 
 must be new ; for my father has made me pro- 
 mise to justify or renounce you. 
 
 Edmond. Come, then, summon your strength 
 of mind to hear; but first tell me, and as you 
 would esteem me, tell me truly, what jlo the 
 world report of me ? 
 
 Charles. To be unconscious of its charges, 
 is to be innocent. 
 
 Edmon d. Does it follow, then, to know them 
 argues guilt? 
 
 Charles.
 
 A COMEDY. 52 
 
 Charles. I said not so. Oh, Edmond, I'm 
 ashamed to call to my remembrance half what's 
 said. 
 
 Edmond. Then, Sir, I shall assist you. 
 Around a circle, of which this very dwelling 
 forms the centre, 'tis told by greybeards, youth, 
 and even children, that I attempted once my 
 father's life ; that his new-married bride had not 
 the power to shield her from my offered violence, 
 though guarded by the sacred name of mother ! 
 
 Charles. Such charges are too horrible to 
 rest on any ground you could have form'd for 
 them. 
 
 Edmond. Yes, there were grounds Nay, 
 start not more than this it is reported I was 
 leagued with gamesters; licentiousness expelled 
 me from the college ; and that my companions 
 of the army dismissed me from their ranks for 
 cowardice. 
 
 Charles. That is impossible, 
 
 Edmond. By your reluctance to think me 
 guilty of it, you suppose that cowardice is worse 
 than all the crimes I have enumerated. 
 
 Charles. At least, I'm sure that Edmond 
 is no coward : come, my anxious ear longs for 
 your vindication. 
 
 Ed m o n d. Have I recounted all that you have 
 heard ? 
 
 Charles. Yes; and have shadowed with the 
 darkest tint the outline that detraction draws 
 for you. 
 
 13 Edmond.
 
 60 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Edmoxd. Nay, Sir, 'tis said too, I seduced 
 the daughter of a worthy man, from his widowed 
 home, I snatched the dearest comfort it con- 
 tained, threw her, unpitied on a reckless world, 
 and, oh, most horrible ! beheld her sire, torn 
 jrfth affliction, humbled to the dust, ap4 did 
 not. dare assuage the grief I caused him. 
 
 Charges. And is this true ? 
 
 Edmond. I dare not contradict it. 
 
 Charles. Yet, tell me, Edmond, what could 
 steel your mind against all sense of principle 
 and nature ? 
 
 Edmond. A fiend, that long has fixed his 
 yenom'd fapgs deep in my dearest feelings, Sir, 
 the world ! In wise men's'thoughts I was, from 
 infancy, condemned, and early scorned to stoop 
 for vindication. From childhood driven thus to 
 depend on my weak self, where is the wonder 
 that I may have fallen ? 
 
 Charles. Yet, to society you owe 
 
 Edmond. To .society at large I shall not 
 bend To you, while I recount deeds more 
 atrocious still, you must resolve to hear with 
 patience, nay more \a small chime of bells h 
 heard from the Pavilion] Hark? Charles, you 
 must leave me eVe evening, I'll meet you here 
 again. 
 
 Charles. Shall I, then, hear ? 
 
 Edmqnd. I wou'd fain keep your friendship, 
 and am sorry I rashly promised a disclosure of 
 what may hazard it at present leave me. 
 
 [turns up the stage.']
 
 A COMEDY. 61 
 
 Charles. This hesitation defeats my hopes 
 to find him what I wish'd Yet I will come if 
 he eludes me then, we meet no more. [Exit. 
 
 Edmond. Yes, he, too, is deceiv'd he was 
 to have been the husband of Suzette '.and 
 had he seen her, his quick sense of what the 
 world calls honour, might have foiled my best 
 intentions. 
 
 Suzette enters from the Pavilion. 
 
 Suzette. Am I not soon returned ? the sub- 
 terraneous grotto, with the assistance of the 
 servants, enabled me to do all I had hoped. I 
 have intelligence that my father has kindly 
 heard of my arrival what I've prepared may 
 soften him still more. 
 
 Edmond. I wish you may succeed I am 
 &iad vou gave the signal from the turret There 
 was one with me, who 
 
 Suzette. So earnest! was it my father? 
 
 Edmond. No why shou'd you imagine so ? 
 , Suzette. Because I think of no one else. 
 I am so agitated ! In two hours I am to meet 
 him no wonder he was angry if he heard it. 
 What do you think has been reported ? 
 
 Edmond. Tell me, Suzette. 
 
 Suzette. It has been told, but I hope not 
 to him, that 1 left home with the young man 
 who formerly lived here, and whom, thank 
 {leaven, I never saw. 
 
 Edmonb.
 
 62 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Edmond. And why thank Heaven ? 
 
 Suzette. What an unkind question! HavVt 
 I told you what a wicked man he was and was 
 it not you who protected me from his agents ? 
 
 Edmond. Do you not fear him now ? 
 
 Suzette. No with you I am in safety. It 
 was at my earnest wish von bought this house 
 and grounds, that, if not forgiven, I might, at 
 least, be near my father. 
 
 Edmond. Would he never have relented, 
 had you married this reprobate do you not pity 
 the poor outcast. 
 
 Su zette. Heartily I have done wrong, and 
 felt too much, not to be very sorry for all else 
 who have erred. 
 
 Edmond. Sweet girl ! united to such a mind 
 as thine, perhaps he might 
 
 Suzette. He! united to him! worlds would 
 not have tempted me. 
 
 Edmond. Indeed ! 
 
 Suzette. Do you doubt me? Though I have 
 reason to distrust myself in this respect 1 cannot 
 be deceived. 
 
 Edmond. What being lives that may not be 
 deceived ? Who thinks he cannot, most deceives 
 himself. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 End of Act UL
 
 A COMEDY. 6$ 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A hall at Lord Rigid's. 
 
 Enter Sir Harry [tipsy~\ led by Charles. 
 Sir Harry. Thank ye, my good friend do 
 let ns rest a little, [aits ana settee] We have got 
 safe to Lord Rigid's afterjiiakiog each other as- 
 happy as any two lords in Chriflendom. 
 
 Charles. I should be much happier if you 
 were in your chamber. 
 
 Sir Harry. I sha'ii't itir a foot Richard I 
 get me a pipe. 
 
 Charles. What, without lady Rigid's per- 
 mission? 
 
 Sir Harry. It's no use asking her for she 
 never smokes to my certain knowledge. 
 
 Charles. I shall avail myself of your pro- 
 mise of a horse, to convey me borne, and must 
 return immediately. 
 
 Sir Harry. You're in a monstrous hurry; 
 but if you ride no better than you drink f you'll 
 be off before you wish it. 
 
 Charles. Perhaps so; but I shoudn't have 
 thought the wine I saw you take wou'd so affect 
 you. 
 
 Sir
 
 64 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Sir Harry. I was determined you shou'd 
 have the very best the house afforded so I 
 made the landlord give me a taste from every 
 binn of wine in his cellar. There were but 
 fourteen; but I don't know how it is, the least 
 drop before dinner plays the devil with me. 
 
 Charles. I see your sister yonder. 'Sdeath, 
 I shall be quite ashamed to let her find you in 
 such a situation. 
 
 Sir Harry. Psha ! don't I know your care 
 of me was all a pretence to come and see her t 
 Stay, you fool If she comes say I'm asleep; 
 for so I shall be in a minute or two ; and if half 
 an hour's courtship will be any refreshment to 
 you, make the most of it. 
 
 Charles. But what can I say to excuse 
 
 Sir Harry. Why tell her if ever she dines 
 where we did, not to call for any of that 
 fellow's claret, for while the King's Arms can 
 boast a batch of good home-brewed constitution, 
 he may kick all the foreign fluff out of the 
 country. 
 
 Enter Sophia. 
 
 Sophia. I thought my brother was here, Sir, 
 [sees kirn]. Why, Harry! Good Heavens! no 
 accident, I hope. 
 
 Charles. None but what rest will cure, 
 Madam. Sir Harry's recent alarm for your 
 safety, and his subsequent fatigue, have a little 
 incommoded him. 
 
 Sophia.
 
 A COMEDY. 65 
 
 Sophia. I fear I comprehend you, Sir -I'll 
 order his servant to be call'd. 
 
 Charles. He has begg'd not to be disturbed, 
 Madam, and, like myself prefers his present 
 situation to any other. 
 
 Sophia. You are very kind, and I shall ever 
 be your debtor but the presence of a brolhcr, 
 would not, in my guardian's eyes, sufficiently 
 excuse this accidental intercourse. 
 
 Charles. Yet if the son of Lord Rigid is 
 insensible to the happiness intended him 
 
 Sophia. Even then your perseverance will 
 injure my fortune, perhaps offend your family, 
 and certainly be the ruin of that brother whose 
 kindness for me is extreme, and who, by his 
 good nature, is already too much in the power 
 of my guardian. 
 
 Sir Harry, [rising suddenly} Well> and 
 what then ? I tell you, if I were ruined twice 
 over, and a civil word to my lord would save 
 me from it a third time, he shouldn't have it, if 
 he used you ill. 
 
 Sophia. Nay, but my dearest brother 
 
 Sir Harry. What does she talk about me for, 
 when she knows that as long as she's to be made 
 happy, I don't care two-pence how it's brought 
 about. [Sophia goes up in tears.] 
 
 Charles. But now you are making her 
 w/diappy. 
 
 Sir Harry. What, because she's roaring?-^ 
 K She
 
 66 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 She does that on purpose. K'ent I so plaguy 
 fond of her that, this very day, when you saved 
 her from being overturned, I ran first to take 
 earc of the black poncy, because I knew he was 
 her favourite? There, come, now don't crv 
 Gi*s thy hand, and hold thy tongue, and let mc 
 tell the story my own way ; never be afraid of 
 mc, I'm the best temper'd fellow in the world 
 when nothing vexes mc. 
 
 Sophia. But you are so soon made angry. 
 
 Sir Harry. Am I ? Why then tell the story 
 yourself, if you like it. 
 
 Sophia. I had better retire And, indeed, if 
 you wou'd but 
 
 Sir Harry. I sha'iTt stir, nor shall you 
 neither {.takes her liand}. I'll tell it myself. 
 You' must know, Sir, that when my father died, 
 poor man ! Why, whatthedeu.ee makes thee 
 cry now ? 1 fay, he died when we were young 
 and- innocent that's a long while ago. She 
 was a complete beauty, and I were reckon'd so 
 like her, that folks used to say,, there was a 
 pair of us. 
 
 Charlks. Well, Sir? 
 
 Sir Harry. Well, Sir, my lord was out 
 guardian, and she was to marry one of his three 
 sons, two of whom died, and Sophy is just 
 brought here, to see the third, for the second 
 time in her life. Her fortune all goes without 
 she has him; and I have just heard that so far 
 from being an honest man, he 
 
 ClIAP,LES.
 
 A COMEDY. 67 
 
 Charles. Whatever you have heard to the 
 prejudice of Edmond Rigid, I cannot hear re- 
 peated, while I have the honour lo call myself 
 his friend. 
 
 Sir Harry. I like you the better for saying 
 -so; but we'll talk more of that bye and bye. I 
 had made a little too free with my cash upon the 
 race-course, was bubbled by a set of blacklegs, 
 and dipp'd my estate. My lord bought the 
 mortgage, and will foreclose directly, if we 
 don't do as he bids us ; but if she don't like it, 
 she shaVt, and there's an end. 
 
 Sophia. I had once determined not to yield 
 too implicitly, where my happiness is so seriously 
 at ftake but the full knowledge of his situation, 
 which I before only suspected, now tells me 'tis 
 a sacred duty not to many without my lord's 
 approval. 
 
 Charles. And may I hope that I am ac- 
 quainted with the only bar to your permitting 
 my future attentions ? [to Sophia.] 
 
 Soph ia. A bar not easily removed ; for though 
 the violation of domestic restraint may succeed 
 in the false colouring of imagination, y/t plea- 
 sure so obtained will have fiction for its basis, 
 as long as solid happiness is to be the result of 
 reason, and the reward of virtue. [Exit. 
 
 Charles. Permit me to say, Sir Harry, if 
 
 my father's interference with regard to your 
 
 property can avail, you may command the 
 
 k 2 service
 
 (18 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 service of a man of business, who is also a 
 man of honour, 
 
 Sir Harry. You're kind, I own ; but tilings 
 are not quite so bad as I made 'em out ; and 
 enough yet remains as a hedge against the odds 
 of his lordship's favour. A young man, I took 
 for one of the gamblers who fleeced me, saved 
 me a considerable sum, of which Sister knows 
 nothing. And lie Mho befriended me, only 
 desired in return, that I should never tell Lord 
 Rigid. 
 
 Charles. May I ask who this friend was? 
 
 Sir Harry. He called himself Wilson, but 
 nobody knew him ; and the name he went by 
 was not his own ; but I have talked myself quite 
 dry, and am ready now for another glass. 
 
 Charles. No, no; to bed, my friend. 
 
 Sir Harry. You don't mean to say, that 
 what I have drank has done me any harm ? 
 
 Charles. But mare would do you harm. 
 So, farewel, and remember, the hospitality of 
 a convivial board would never lead us to excess, 
 did not the ignis fatuus of pleasure in perspec- 
 tive point to the seductive charms of t'other 
 bottle. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Harry. And what's one's whole life but 
 pleasure in perspective? A pretty girl sees it in 
 her looking-glass; her expecting lover in an 
 hour-glass ; I see it through a drinking-$*\dL?>$ ; 
 and if I happen to view it at the wrong end, 
 
 the
 
 A COMEDY. 69 
 
 the bottle can't err, and must set me right 
 again. So, I will have another, and if my Lord 
 comes across me in my cups, while I ask him for a 
 friend or a sentiment, I'll desire him to leave 
 himself and his opinions out of the question. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Lady Rigid and Sophia. 
 
 Lady Rigid. Why so unhappy, Sophia? 
 You have seen too little of Edmond to dislike 
 him. He has failings, but 1 believe his heart 
 is excellent. 
 
 Sophia. Such an apology, Madam, is weak 
 as it is common. If excellent hearts are only 
 given to excuse bad actions, from what sources 
 shall we look for good ones ? 
 
 Lady Rigid. Really, Sophia, this style 
 
 Sophia. My situation must plead my pardon. 
 You married to please your friends; tell me, on 
 your honour, do you know no real cause why 
 I ought not to follow your Ladyship's example r 
 
 Lady Rigid. Alas! 'tis too true, I married 
 to please my friends. Imperious circumstances 
 forced me to wed the father, when Hush! 
 here comes my Lord. 
 
 Enter Lord Rigid. 
 
 Lord Rigid. I have just received another 
 proof of Edmond's disobedience. He has dared 
 
 to
 
 ?0 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 to marry without my knowledge ; a girl too, 
 who will disgrace us. But lie shall quit the 
 Hermitage, shall quit the kingdom, and give up 
 all claim to the notice of a justly irritated 
 father. 
 
 Lady Rigid. Married! Is he really married? 
 
 Lord Rigid. You may be well surprised; 
 but why should we wonder at a wretch, who 
 
 Lady Rigid. Do not decide till you have 
 civen me a moment's audience. I cannot look 
 upon his total ruin, [aside] 
 
 Lord Rigid. No; every tie that jo inedme 
 to that worthless wretch is at an end. 
 
 Lady Rigid. As to what has passed, per- 
 haps even I may have been deceived, perhaps 
 have misinterpreted 
 
 Lord Rigid. No the anguish, the despair, 
 your countenance, that fatal day, betrayed, too 
 powerfully impress my memory. 
 
 Sophia. And yet this man, my father's friend 
 had chosen for my husband. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Silence ! To your Chamber! 
 
 Lady Rigid, [to Sophia.'] Do not increase his 
 passion by reply. I'll follow you. [Exit Sophia. 
 
 Pray, my dear lord, hear what I have to 
 urge. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Go wait my coming, then. 
 
 [turns up the stage.] 
 
 Lady Rigid. Alas ! this austerity has been 
 
 my
 
 A COMEDY. 71 
 
 my bane; fear of his anger firft taught me dupli- 
 city, and one step from truth has involved me in 
 consequences fatal to my peace ; but which 
 must be averted from one, who, unfortunately, 
 sutlers with me. [Exit. 
 
 Lord Rigid. I'm justly punished for having 
 so long cherished a thankless viper. I had 
 hoped his marriage with Sophia even there I 
 acted wrong, for my avaricious haste may have 
 hurried him into this union with a girl he had 
 seduced too Scandalous ! 
 
 Re-enter Sir Harry (more intoxicated). 
 
 Sir Harry. So it is, my Lord, very scanda- 
 lous, I've been ill used by the butler, affronted 
 in the stable, and called names by the chamber- 
 maid. 
 
 Lord Rigid. And you find their master in as 
 ill a humour for trifling with blockheads. 
 
 Sir Harry. And so am L I wou'dn't trifle 1 
 with your lordship for the world 
 
 Lord Rigid. Sir, if you mean to take liberties! 
 
 Sir Harry. I never take liberties with a man 
 I don't like. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Then, Sir, what do you intend. 
 by this rudeness ? 
 
 Sir Harry. Only to say three things my 
 greys shall keep the four-ftall stable I'll choose 
 my own wine, and Sophy shan't marry any body 
 uulefs she likes. 
 
 Lord PvIgid. Is this a time to be troubled 
 
 with a brute, when my son 
 
 Sir Harry.
 
 72 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Sir Harry. The less you say about him the 
 better. He's a very sad fellow, and I'm afraid 
 takes after his father. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Sir, you have disgraced his fa- 
 ther's manfion long* enough, and nothing but 
 my respect for the memory of your parent could 
 induce me to submit to the degradations 1 have 
 already. 
 
 Sir Harry. Yes, your respect for my father 
 made you wink at my extravagance, till you 
 bought my estate, and took all possible care of 
 my sister's, by marrying her to your son, to 
 add it to your own. 
 
 Lord Rigid. An alliance with my family* 
 young man, was an honour to which your sister 
 might aspire. 
 
 Sir Harry. Don't abuse my sister If she 
 don't marry Edmond, she may get an honest 
 man. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Edmondshallhearof andpunish 
 this insolence. 
 
 Sir Harry. Psha ! He won't fight you told 
 me so yourself. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Then, Sir, his father will away 
 sleep off your unmanly intemperance, prepare 
 to ask my pardon, or expect to make severe 
 atonement for your headstrong insolence. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir Harry. Not I indeed, old dignity. Its 
 not the fashion to ask pardon now-a-days when 
 a man's in the right, he'd be wrong to do it; 
 
 * and
 
 A COMEDY. 73 
 
 and when he's in the wrong a real gentleman 
 ought to be asham'd to own it. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. The Major's, as before. 
 
 Enter Balance and the Major, through the 
 garden. 
 
 Major, [looking round] Did you ever know 
 such a seducing haggage? not a flower here 
 but exactly replaces some one I was attached 
 to : the cunning hussey ! I'll knock her down 
 the moment I see her. 
 
 Balance. You see how she is beloved. 
 Your servants mult have been privy to a cir- 
 cumstance like this. 
 
 Major. And how cou'd they assist her? 
 I keep none now but Gregory the gardener, and 
 old Dorothy. 
 
 Balance. Umph! this is no gardener's 
 work, to be sure. 
 
 Major. We'll soon see that. Why, Gre* 
 gory ! 
 \ Enter Gregory. 
 
 Well, Sir ! I suppose you know who placed 
 all these flowers here ? 
 
 Gregory. Why, I do know, and I do not, 
 for a stranger assisted in it. 
 
 L Balance.
 
 74 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Balance. I suppose, too, you put some of 
 'em- there. 
 
 Gregory. Yes, I lent a hand lord bless 
 her, how could she have lifted 
 
 Major. She ! who's she ? 
 
 Gregory. The stranger a lady she spoke 
 very kindly of you ; and, when, in moving that 
 rosebush a thorn tore her delicate white hand, 
 she said, ' never mind, to please my father, I'd 
 lose every drop in my veins.' 
 
 Major. Did she indeed ! 
 
 Balance. I'll be bound she did old Gre- 
 gory will swear it. 
 
 Gregory. That I wou'd Heaven bless her ! 
 she was the delight of my old eyes. 
 
 Major. I say, Gregory, come here who 
 the devil are you talking of all this while ? 
 
 Gregory. Who? why, bless my heart, I 
 didn't mention her name, did I ? I promised 
 I wou'd not do that and I hope I'm not such 
 a rogue*as to be worse than my word. 
 
 Balance. No you only said she was her 
 falher's daughter. 
 
 Major. And how dare you suffer her to 
 enter my doors when I commanded you 
 not? 
 
 Gregory. Because your orders were given 
 in. a passion ; and she asked me as if her little 
 heart was breaking. 
 
 % Major.
 
 A COMEDY. 75 
 
 i Major. What right had she to break her 
 
 heart She might have been happy. 
 
 Balance. And will be, when she sees you. 
 
 Gregory. She would have gone down on 
 her knees ; but I told her, if you caught her 
 kneeling on my hot beds you'd be very angry. 
 
 Major. Hark ye, Sir? that's my livery, 
 and you have worn it five-and-twenty years. 
 
 Gregory. Well, I'm not ashamed, even of 
 that. The livery of a good man disgraces no- 
 body, and shews that the wearer has a charac- 
 ter of his own, though he happens to wear the 
 coat of another. 
 
 Major. Umph ! I begin to think you have 
 worn mine rather too long. 
 
 Gregory. Well, then, I must pull it off, 
 that's all. 
 
 Balance. Nay, Major, confider 
 Gregory. Let him alone I can work I 
 am only sixty-seven, and I have seen service 
 enough in the Major's company to entitle me to 
 wear the King's coat, who, Heaven bless him ! 
 is a master who would never desire me to pull 
 it off again. 
 
 Major. You shall pull ofT that, however, 
 and then [gives money] go buy another, and 
 smoke your pipe in my chimney-coiner as long 
 as you live ; for it's a shame such a fellow as 
 you shou'cl be obliged to wear any coat but his 
 
 own. 
 
 L2 Balance.
 
 76 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Balance. Bravo, Major! Why don't you 
 obey your officer, Gregory ? 
 
 Gregory. Me ! what have I done to de~ 
 serve being made a gentleman of in my old 
 age? 
 
 Major. Acted the part of a brave fellow; 
 ran the risk of losing your own home, by letting 
 my daughter come to hers, and shewn yourself 
 a better man than your matter, by feeling for 
 the unfortunate. 
 
 Balance. And yet, I dare say, this was all 
 a secret to old Gregory ! 
 
 Gregory. So it was, Sir ! and I can tell 
 master one worth two of it. Miss Suzy is in 
 the next room, pale as ashes, frightened to 
 death, and quiv'ring like quicksilver at every 
 door that opens. 
 
 Major. And I've a great mind to reduce you 
 to the ranks again, for not telling me sooner. 
 Where is she ! the ungracious child, who could 
 add to her former faults, that of being nine mi- 
 nutes in this house without letting her father 
 know it. [Exit. 
 
 Balance. Well, Gregory ! what do you say 
 to this ? 
 
 Gregory. That it's all as it shou'dbe, Sir ! 
 and that when good luck tumbles into the 
 house, its better to catch fast hold of it, than to 
 stand looking to see what crevice it came in at 
 
 [Exit. 
 Balance.
 
 A COMEDY. 77 
 
 Balance. I'll go and seek food for my jour- 
 pal in this scene of felicity. My presence may 
 be necessary to keep things even, too; for I know 
 my friend the major so well, that if the smallest 
 obstacle should lie in the road he has just found 
 to happiness, he'll be pretty sure to stumble 
 over it. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. The garden at the Hermitage. 
 Enter Charles and Edmond. 
 
 EpMpND. Remember, that what I am re- 
 lating, I prove but by my words if I deceive 
 you, be the blame your own. 
 
 Charles. Go on I've heard from others 
 you were the victim of your parents partiality 
 for their other offspring. 
 
 Edmond. Yes; I was the rejected, the de- 
 spised till an event, sudden as horrible, decided 
 competition. My brothers were suffered to take 
 their pleasure in a sailing yatch, which I had 
 used to steer, and that day asked in vain to 
 bear them company. A servile tutor undertook 
 the vessel's charge, the two youths paid him no 
 obedience, and in some resulting contest o'erset 
 the boat, and all were lost. 
 
 CiiAiiLEs. From what you feel at present, I 
 can picture your parents anguish. 
 
 Edmond. In my mother's phrenzy, I heard 
 
 her
 
 78 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 her make the dreadful declaration, that had I 
 perished, and her darlings lived, she had not 
 grieved. A relative, who saw my treatment, 
 left me this estate, on condition I did not 
 marry till a certain age. I laid the writings at 
 my father's feet this was called affectation 
 where's the wonder, then, I sank into a gloomy 
 apathy, which formed fresh subject for reproof. 
 
 Charles. Your mother 
 
 Edmond. Died shortly after I left home 
 for college the social kindness of my fellow 
 students was so new to me, that dissipation 
 followed, and in a nightly brawl Oh ! Charles, 
 never shall I forget that dreadful scene worlds 
 should not tempt me to renew 
 
 Major, [speaks without^ Don't tell me of his 
 being busy. 
 
 Edmond, The Major \ 
 
 Maj or, en tering. 
 
 Major. When an old soldier seeks his 
 mortal enemy, who shall bar his passage ? 
 
 Edmond. Sir, if you come 
 
 Major. I come to relate two short stories, 
 and, then, leave you to make the application. 
 
 Edmond. I am attentive, Sir. 
 
 Major. A veteran, who had spent his best 
 blood in the battles of old England, brought 
 home his honour, half-pay, nine scars, and an 
 
 only
 
 A COMEDY. |ft 
 
 only child she was snatched" from him by 
 seduction; the old soldier was just about to 
 forgive her every thing, when he learned she 
 had married, without knowing it, a most noto- 
 rious villain 1 
 
 Charles. Sir, if you wou'd have patience 
 you might have heard 
 
 Major. How the wretch seduced her I'U 
 tell you, Sir He found her in the cottage of 
 poverty, raising up the sick and feeble, like the 
 benevolence of Heaven, when it falls on the 
 drooping flower He, then, became charitable 
 himself, made presents to the poor, and love to 
 the innocent, and, creating sympathy in the 
 bosom of a girl, who had no mother to advise 
 her, he assumed another name, taught her to 
 weep at the romance of his feign'd misfortunes, 
 seiz'd a moment of weakness, which, of itself, 
 would have been a barrier of adamant to an 
 honest man, and sacrificed the virtue of my 
 child! 
 
 Charles. But having made amends by 
 marriage 
 
 Major. He becomes on a l&vel with the 
 man, who, Avhen detected in stealing my pro* 
 perty, offers to purchase it. Sir, [to Edmond] 
 I knew you could produce no argument of 
 defence, and therefore came provided with 
 one a-piece for us. [offers pistols'] Take your, 
 choice. 
 
 Edmond,
 
 SO GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Edmond. [takes a pistol] Take your own 
 amends, Sir : if a mad action mast be com* 
 mitted, one agent is quite sufficient. 
 
 William enters, and gives Charles a letter. 
 
 Major. What! won't he fight! lias my 
 daughter married a man that won't fight ? 
 
 Charles, [gives the letter to Edmond] Leave 
 us, William, and wait for me at Triangle's. 
 Major, you must defer your resentment ; a busi- 
 ness of such importance calls my friend away, 
 that nothing may delay him here a moment. 
 
 Major. Sir, if he stirs one step 
 
 Edmond. [to the Major] When we meet 
 again, I shall be ready to account, as far as I 
 am able, for my conduct. Were I not instantly 
 to execute the duty this prescribes, [the letter} 
 I should be a greater poltroon than even you 
 have set me down for. [Exit with Charles. 
 
 Major. If you dare to go till I [presents 
 the pistol.'] 
 
 Willm. Stop, Sir 1 [seizing his arm] If you 
 do that, you'll shoot somebody. 
 
 Major. I mean it. [Just as he is about to 
 Jire, Suzette enters, followed by Balance, throws 
 herself on her knee, and exclaims, " Oh, spare 
 him I spare him!]" 
 
 Major, [dropping his pistol] My child! 
 What might my rashness have condemn'd me 
 
 Balance.
 
 A COMEDY. 61 
 
 Balance. Against whom, for Heaven' s sake 
 was this directed ? 
 
 Major. No matter it has struck myself, 
 and killed, I hope, my foible. Oh, my child ! 
 never shall passion lead me again to acts so 
 desperate. Harkye, good fellow find out your 
 master, and his friend, and [William, in bowing 
 awkwardly, presents the pistol] Take care 
 I shall hate the sight of a pistol as long as I 
 live. [Exit with Suzette and Balance. 
 
 Willm. Well, in one pull of a trjgger what 
 mischief may be done ! It's no but hold it a 
 this'n, and it's off like a shot. Now, 1 shou'd be 
 ashamed to bring down a natural countryman 
 wi' aught but a fist or a cudgel, because, then, 
 he might get up again and, for my own part, I'4 
 rather be thrashed wi'the vulsrarest bit of English 
 oak, than shot dead wi'the genteelest pair of 
 Dpps in Christen (.icm. [Exit. 
 
 End of Act IF, 
 
 M
 
 82 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Triangle's House, as before. 
 
 Enter William. 
 Willm. Young master bid me. wait for him 
 here I fancy Mr. Triangle's not at home. What 
 a power of business he must have on his hands! - 
 What wV boys i't' school, ladies i't' library, and 
 gentlemen i't' news-room, he stands here like 
 a three-corner'd finger-post, to put folks i't' way 
 of all the learning, politics, and tittle tattle o' the 
 whole village. 
 
 Enter Gregory, from the reading-room. 
 
 Gregory. Ah! what, William ! I have been 
 looking for my master, the Major, he went out 
 in a monstrous passion, so I thought he might 
 have stept as far as the club of Cool Ileasoners. 
 
 Willm. Oh, no; / know where he went. 
 He went a-shooting. 
 
 Gregory. A shooting ! 
 
 Willm. Yes; your young mistress, and my 
 old master peep'd into the very mouth of his 
 pistol, just as he was aiming at Mr. Rigid. 
 
 Gregory. He coudn't have hurt him if he 
 had fired. 
 
 Willm,
 
 A COMEDY. 83 
 
 Willm. No! Why? 
 
 Gregory. Allowing to my forgetfulness 
 I -,vas ordered to load master's pistols, and, as 
 I'm an honest man, it never once entered my 
 head to put a bullet in either of them. 
 
 Willm. If you had, it might have enter d 
 more heads than yours. But your master's gone 
 home, swearing most bitterly that he'll never 
 put himself in a passion again. 
 
 Gregory. Is he? then, if I'm out of the 
 way, I shall get it finely ? But I suppose what 
 you have told me is a secret and s-o I shall 
 keep it. [Exit. 
 
 Willm. A secret! to be sure, or else I 
 wou'dn't have mention'd it. Does he think I 
 got nothing to do but to tell what every body 
 knows ? 
 
 Enter Triangle. 
 
 Trian. Every body knows Why, did you 
 hear the report ? 
 
 Willm. No the pistol didn't go off. 
 
 Trian. Pistol! what pistol? I mean about 
 Mr. Edmond Rigid. 
 
 Wtllm. He went off sure enough, or he 
 mightn't have scap'd shot free, as far as he knew. 
 
 Trian. This fellow's as hard to make out 
 as an explanatory note. Did any mischief take 
 place from the fire of t'other party ? 
 
 M 2 W ILLM '
 
 64 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Willm. There was no firing at all, I tell 
 you. 
 
 Trian, 1 heard something about a duel ; but 
 what you tell me is downright assassination A 
 custom, as we read in the geographical gram- 
 mar, prevalent only in Italy. 
 . Willm. I know no more of Italy than the 
 pope of Rome ; but this I do know, that if it 
 hadn't been forGregory's carelessness, theyoung 
 woman might ha' been kilTd, and the crowner 
 must have brought it in manslaughter. 
 
 Trian. I shall never be able to construe his 
 meaning till I have ask'd the question who or 
 what Do you know any thing of a duel that 
 may, might, wou'd, cou'd or shou'd take place 
 between certain persons in this vicinity? 
 
 Willm. Vicinity! No, nor in the neighbour- 
 hood neither. 
 
 Trian. I heard that you had taken a chal- 
 lenge from Sir Harry Pointer to Mr. Charles 
 Balance, and that Edmond Rigid is to be his 
 second on the occasion. 
 
 Willm. What, my young master going to 
 be shot, and I stand talking to you ! I'll find 
 him if he's above ground ; and if any body offers 
 to take aim at a single button of his waistcoat, 
 I'll break every bone in his body, if it's only to 
 prevent mischief ! \Exit. 
 
 Trian. I wish I knew the truth of this affair 
 
 at present, it stands like a sum in Position, 
 
 7 where
 
 A COMED Y. 35 
 
 where by false numbers we discover true ones; 
 *for example 
 
 Enter Mrs. Balance. 
 
 Let me see [ruminatingJ] 
 
 Mrs. B. Mr. Triangle, have you heard where 
 my husband is ? 
 
 Trian. I was just going to put the question. 
 
 Mrs. B. His good nature leads him into such 
 a number of errors. 
 
 Trian. [abstractedly.] Place each error 
 against its respective position, and multiply them 
 cross-wise. 
 
 Mrs. B. Nonsense! 
 
 Trian. Nonsense ! it's the art of discovering 
 truth by falsehood : for instance suppose one 
 wants to know another's age Says IV, I'm forty 
 says /, I'm as old as IV, and half as old as if 
 says U, I'm as old as both of you put together. 
 
 Mrs. B. Sir, I say, it is no such thing. Do 
 you mean to affront me ? 
 
 Trian. Ale! I'm as innocent as Joseph 
 Andrews. 
 
 Mrs. B. Then, do you know where my hus- 
 band is? 
 
 Trian. I believe William said he was at the 
 Major's. 
 
 Mrs. Balance. Then, w r hy didn't you say 
 so before ? They have been fright'ning me 
 about his having a duel with lord Rigid, and 
 
 you,-
 
 86 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 you, instead of giving a direct answer to my 
 question, are asking my age indeed ! 
 
 Trian. Oh, that was Only a question in 
 arithmetic^ There's twenty such in our school 
 books As thus A man met a girl carrying 
 poultry, and, says he 
 
 Enter Nancy. 
 
 ah, my pretty maid, where are you going 
 with your twenty chickens ? 
 
 Nancy. Twenty chickens t 
 
 Trian. But, suppose you had as many more, 
 half as many more, and five besides 
 
 Mrs. B. Don't mind that man; he's mad, 
 child. 
 
 Nancy. La, Ma'am ! I beg pardon ; but I 
 came to look for our William. I'm flurried out 
 of my wits, for they will have it he's gone to 
 tight with young master about the Major's 
 daughter. 
 
 Mrs. B. Then it's my Son Charles, after all, 
 who, I dare say, is to fight with his lordship ! do, 
 pray, dear Mr. Triangle, run and see into the 
 truth of this, and bring us word at the Major's. 
 
 Trian. I will, I'll run like a new novel 
 full of horrid ideas. 
 
 Nancy. And, pray, now, see after our 
 William. 
 
 Mrs. B. And don't come away without Charles 
 upon any account. 
 
 Nancy.
 
 A COMEDY. 87 
 
 Nancy. And, tell William if he must fight, 
 I think he might find some folks as well worth 
 quarrelling for as the Major's daughter, though 
 she has 
 
 Mrs. B. Silence, minx! And tell Charles to 
 
 remember, he has volunteered to fight to pre 
 
 serve the laws of the country ; and he must be 
 
 a deserter from the cause, if, by engaging in a 
 
 duel, he dares to fight against them. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Nancy. And tell William, if any thing hap- 
 pens to him, I shall be so angry, that I . . I . . I 
 shall break my heart, that's what I shall. 
 
 [Exit, whimpering. 
 
 Trian. I wish some one wou'd tell me where 
 these gentlemen are to be found Report men- 
 tioned the North Meadow perhaps, by going 
 the direct contrary road, I may chance to fall 
 in with them. I never saw a duel in my life; 
 but I suppose they are all alike, if it's only from 
 their natural absurdity. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. a Landscape, 
 
 Enter Charles and Edmond. 
 
 Charles. I am sony we were a second time 
 interrupted ; I appears by this mad baronet's 
 note, that, after my departure, he drank more, 
 wine, quarelPd with your father once, and meet- 
 ing him again, his lordship's passion so far over- 
 came
 
 SS GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 came him, that he condescended to give a blow; 
 unless Sir Harry, who has asked me here, as his 
 second, will accept an apology, the case is 
 desperate. 
 
 Edmond. And I know my father too well to 
 hope for concession on his side. I have, how- 
 ever, sent him a message to create some delay, 
 and this being the exact time of the meeting, I 
 have, perhaps, succeeded. 
 
 Charles. Here comes Sir Harry you had 
 better walk aside, while I first try whether there 
 is no remedy. 
 
 Edmond. Be quick then ; for it must be set- 
 tled one way or other, before his lordship comes. 
 I have the Major's pistol here, which, in case of 
 the worst, will be better employ 'd in defending 
 my own father, than in being opposed to the 
 parent of my wife, [goes up the stage'] 
 
 Charles, [looking out] Bless me, the baronet 
 looks plaguy furious ! 
 
 Enter Sir Harry. 
 
 Well, Sir, I have repaired to the spot you named, 
 in hopes to see your quarrel end in honorable 
 reconciliation. 
 
 Sir Harry, [with much agitation] I am 
 afraid not, my feelings are very much hurt 
 every man has feelings, Mr. Balance, I 
 am extremely obliged by your coming, tho' his 
 lordship has since sent me word he brings no 
 second ; but you can act as a common friend, 
 we shall have warm work, I dare say. Who's 
 
 that
 
 A COME D Y. 89 
 
 that gentleman ? a surgeon perhaps, that's pro- 
 per and considerate every thing that's proper 
 ought to be done on such an occasion ; and tho' 
 I am called an unpolished clown, I shall bridle 
 my passion, walk over the course with all ima- 
 ginable politeness, aud take as good aim as I 
 possibly can. 
 
 Charles. You speak, Sir, like a man of 
 judgment and precision. 
 
 SirHARiiY. Yes; I have calculated all the 
 odds, provided against every thing, and shoifd 
 there be a necessity foreither of us to escape, my 
 black horse Charon will carry to the world's 
 end. 
 
 Charles. But, Sir Harry 
 
 Sir Harry. One word more In requital of 
 your double service to Sophia and myself, in this 
 packet I have bequeathed you my two best 
 hunters, with directions that my sister and the 
 rest of my stud may be taken proper care of. 
 
 Charles. And, now Sir, permit me to in- 
 troduce the gentleman you take for a surgeon * 
 Sir Hairy Pointer, this is the honourable ' 
 
 Sir Harry. Mr. Wilson ! the very man who 
 saved me from gamesters, and preserved the only 
 independence which, in that paper, I have been 
 able to leave my sister. 
 
 Edmond. If you conceive yourself indebted 
 to me, you have ample means to acquit your- 
 self, and impress me with an obligation of the 
 last consequence. 
 
 N Sir
 
 90 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY : 
 
 Sir Harry. If there is a thing on earth, I 
 can do, command me. 
 
 Edmond. You expect lord Rigid here on a 
 serious appointment -I have the honour to be 
 much interested for him ; oblige me, therefore, 
 as a man and -a friend, by endeavouring to settle 
 this affair. 
 
 Sir Harry. It shall be settled the moment he 
 comes, [produces pistols] Here are the ponies 
 that are to start; they are small but compact, 
 and when once they go off, I'd match 'em for 
 speed with the first racers in England. 
 
 Edmond. We have no time for levity, Sir. 
 You profess'd I might command you I do be- 
 seech you, most earnestly, if his lordship shews 
 the least inclination that you will be reconciled 
 to him. 
 
 Sir Harry. That is the onlv thins: in the 
 world I wou'd refuse you. 
 
 Charles. But why so inveterate? 
 
 Sir Harry. Sir, I have received a blow, which 
 fell with double weight, because the man who 
 gave it, calls me his interior. 
 
 Edmond. .Will not provocation on your part 
 extenuate the offence ? 
 
 Sir Harry. I had taken my wine to be sure: 
 but, ignorant as I am, I know that such a situa- 
 tion degraded me, more than any language of 
 mine cou'd injure his lordship. For the words 
 of a drunken man leave nobody but himself 
 the worse for them. 
 
 -+ Charles.
 
 A COMEDY. 91 
 
 Charles. Well, but as you own to intempe- 
 rate language 
 
 Sir Harry. His lordship should Have waited 
 till I had sqber sense enough to plead guilty 
 An English constitution would no more punish a 
 man before trial, than I shou'd demand the King's 
 plate without a race, tho' I'm sure I've a mare 
 that's able to win it. 
 
 Ediioxd. And how can your lips venture to 
 profane the name of an English constitution, 
 when you are in the very act of violating its most 
 sacred obligations ? Besides, when we may have 
 to oppose an enemy r -we should find other marks 
 for practice than the boso?ns of our jriends. 
 
 Sir Harry. Well, you may leave talking, for 
 yonder comes his lordship 1 have kept him 
 waiting, and it will be respectful in me to meet 
 him. 
 
 Edmond. Respect for the man you mean to 
 murder ! 
 
 Sir Harry. Psha ! stand out of the way. 
 
 Edmond. Not a step, Sir and, sooner than 
 you shall proceed, I'll venture this, [shearing the 
 Major's pixtol] which was given me by a man of 
 honour, even against your favourites. 
 
 Sir Harry. There he stops a man on the 
 King's highway, and then talks of the laws of 
 his country. 
 
 Edmond. I am, at present, arm'd in their de- 
 fence, the genuine cause of honour ! which no 
 true Briton will desert with life. 
 
 n 2 Sir'
 
 93 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Sir Harry. Nay, don't be ill natur'd ; but 
 if we must pop at one another, let us exchange 
 weapons, and do it like gentlemen. 
 
 Edmond. [gives his pistol] yon may take 
 mine. Sir; but I wish no exchange come, 
 come you must, and shall listen to reason. 
 
 Enter Lord Rigid. 
 
 Lord Rigid. My Son ! 
 
 Sir Harry. His Son I 
 
 Lord Rigid. Edmond, what brought you 
 here ? 
 
 Edmond. My duty, Sir; of which you must 
 permit me to convince this gentleman. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Impossible ! I am surprised and 
 pleased with this proof of your affection, but 
 inust beg to stanc] my own groyne]. 
 
 Charles. Sir Harry will, I am sine, render 
 this friendly contest unnecessary. 
 
 Sir Harry. When folks come to fijrht, friendly 
 contests are out of the question. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Then, take your place, Sir I 
 gave the blow, and have a right to abide by the 
 consequence., come, Sir ! 
 
 Edmond. Hold, Sir! I shall not quit my 
 post, and if the injury you have received will 
 justify your aiming at the father through the 
 heart of his son, take your revenge, and lire ! 
 
 Enter William hastily. 
 Willm. Don't offer to fire, for the love of 
 peace and quietness ! 
 
 Charles.
 
 A COMEDY. 93 
 
 Charles. William, how dare you t do you 
 not tremble for your improper conduct? 
 
 Willm. Yes, Sir, I do tremble at your impro- 
 per conduct; and with all due respect I shall act 
 the part of a quiet subject, and knock any gentle- 
 man down that makes Game of his own kind, 
 by going a man-shooting. 
 
 Sir Harry, [presenting his pistol} Sirrah, do 
 ycu see this ? [William looks close at it] 
 
 Willm. Yes, Sir; and I believe here's the fel- 
 low to it. [shewing the other] And if old Gre- 
 gory has charged the one as well as the other, 
 1*11 stand fire as long as you please How did you 
 get him, Sir? 
 
 Edmond. From me I received it as proper 
 for the purpose of a similar meeting. 
 
 Willm. Yes, Sir and it would be proper if 
 such were always used when friends fall out; for 
 neither of these have swallowed an. ounce of 
 lead these six weeks. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Not loaded ! 
 
 Sir Harry. Indeed! I don't wonder at vour 
 keeping your post. 
 
 Edmond. Sir, you must be aware 
 
 Sir Harry. Sir, you must be aware that re- 
 port says you always objected to face a bullet, 
 and that it was fear to fight a duel which made 
 you quit the army. 
 
 Edmond. Yes, Sir it was. I hold no lives 
 more sacred than those engaged to serve their 
 
 country's
 
 94 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 country's cause, and I did fear to lose mine in 
 the base attempt to lessen the number of our 
 brave defenders. 
 
 Willm. I'll take my oath before his worship, 
 that nobody but Gregory and I knew a word 
 about the pistol. 
 
 Sir Harry. Ay, ay, you came in at your 
 proper cue, I warrant ; but I'll have satisfaction 
 of my lord yet And you, Sir, [to Charles] 
 may depend on't that my sister shall never marry 
 a man who would stand by, as a second, and 
 see his friend fight with an empty pistol. [Exit, 
 
 Edmosd. For Heaven's sake, Charles, follow, 
 and convince him. His lordship and I will wait 
 you at the Hermitage. 
 
 Willm. Nay, Sir; but I were bid to tell 
 you, that your wife and her father are waiting 
 for you at t' Major's. 
 
 Charles. At the Major's then I'll meet 
 you. Out of my sight, Sir! [to William] To 
 your officious impertinence we owe the whole 
 of this embarrassment. [Exit. 
 
 Will-m. Well, I'll not go far; for if folks 
 arc so plaguy angry because they cou'dn't do 
 pne another mischief, there's no knowing what 
 they may be at next. [Exit. 
 
 JLord Rigid. Edmond, even this defence of 
 my life requires some explanation. 
 
 Edmond. If, Sir, you wou'd condefcend to 
 accompany me to the Major's, yqu shall be in- 
 formed
 
 A C O ME D Y. 95- 
 
 formed from witnesses, whose testimony, for or 
 against me, will have more weight than mine. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Your own wou'd be sufficient, 
 cou'd I but hope to find you innocent in what 
 regards my lady Rigid, who has never yet 
 cleared up that 
 
 Enter Triangle and Sophia. 
 
 Trian*. There, Madam I promised to find 
 out the place for you; but hadn't we met Sir 
 Harry to direct us, I believe we might as well 
 have looked for ghosts in Gil Bias, or politeness 
 in parson Tfulliber. 
 
 Sophia. My Lord, I am desired by lady 
 Rigid to beg you will see her instantly Before 
 the fatal effect of what she trembles to hear you 
 are engaged in may prevent her ; she wishes to 
 imparl something most material to herself, to 
 you, and to that gentleman. 
 
 Lord Rigid. The meeting which causes her 
 alarm has terminated without misfortune, and I 
 shall most willingly listen to any thing in his 
 favour. 
 
 Edmond. May I accompany you? 
 
 Lord Rigid. You had better relieve the ap- 
 prehensions of the Major and his family, for 
 your safety, since it appears this circumstance 
 lias found its way through the whole village 
 already. Y'ou shall there soon hear from me. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sophia, [going, returns] Wasn't Mr. Charles 
 
 Balance engaged in this affair? 
 
 Edmond.
 
 96 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Edmond. He is perfectly safe, and will be 
 as perfectly happy when he hears of the interest 
 you so kindly take in his welfare. 
 
 Sophia. But, pray don'ttell him that I made 
 any particular inquiry. [Exit* 
 
 Edmond. I shall, you may depend on it 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Trian. Well, I came to see a duel ; but 
 there seems no sign of any engagement having 
 taken place. 
 
 Enter William and Nancy. 
 
 Willm. Oh, but there has here's Nancy, 
 like t'other fine lady, cou'dn't rest till she came 
 to see after her sweetheart ; and so I've made an 
 engrao-ement that when we are married I'll ha' 
 nought to do wi' fighting, without she makes 
 one of the party. 
 
 Trian. There's nothing improper in that. 
 So you are about to become Mrs. Wallflower in 
 good earnest. [To Nancy.] 
 
 Nancy. There's nothing improper in that, is 
 there Mr. Triangle ? 
 
 Trian. Oh, no; you'll have a nursery full of 
 blooming young Wallflowers, and, when old 
 enough to be transplanted, send them to flourish 
 under mv cultivation. 
 
 Willm. You shall teach the boys to do 
 every tiling, but fight like gentlemen ; though 
 I'll freely give 'em leave to pop at a partridge by 
 the side of a friend, or look into the mouth of 
 a cannon in the teeth of an enemy. 
 
 Nancy,
 
 A COMED Y. 97 
 
 Nancy. They sha'n't he- taught any such 
 tricks; and if ever I catch one of 'em looking: 
 into the mouth of a cannon, I'll why, what 
 do you laugh at ? For shame, William ! 
 
 Trian. I see you can reckon your chickens, 
 though a little while ago you wou'dn't let me 
 do it. 
 
 Willm. Nevermind, lass I only say, that 
 if gunpowder must be in fashion, my boys shall 
 learn to make a proper use of it. 
 
 Trian. Ay, ay; only send 'em to my school, 
 and I'll "teach their young ideas how to shoot," 
 I warrant you. \ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The Major's. 
 
 Enter Balance, Mrs. Balance, the Major, Suzette, 
 
 Charles, and Sir Harry. 
 
 Charles. I am sorry you have been kept in 
 
 so painful a suspence. Your husband is safe, 
 
 Suzette : and it materially concerns him and you, 
 
 "" Major, to vouch to Sir Harry, that the pistol you 
 
 gave Edmond was unloaded. 
 
 Major. Do you mean to infinuate that a ve- 
 teran wou'd go to the field without amunition ? 
 
 [rings a bell. 
 Sir Harry. I shou'd as soon think of riding 
 without spurs. 
 
 Enter Gregory, out of livery, with a pipe in 
 his mouth. 
 Major. Who loaded my piftols yesterday? 
 Q Gregory.
 
 OS GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Gregory. Your man. 
 Major. Well Sir ! and are not j/ow - 
 Gregory. I once was ; but now I smoke my 
 pipe in the chimney corner, as you bade me. And 
 if I did forget to charge the pistols, it belongs 
 not to the gentleman you have juit made me, to 
 answer for the faults of your servant Gregory. 
 
 Sir Harry, [to the Major.] Why then, Mr. 
 Wilson, as he chose to call himself, did not 
 know that the pistol you gave him was without 
 a ball. 
 
 Major; Who the devil's Mr. Wilson? 
 Charles. He means Edmond Rigid, Sin 
 Major. Aye the reprobate who married 
 Suzette. No, my dear father, indeed you 
 are mistaken, we only bought the house of that 
 unfortunate man. 
 
 Sir Harry. Well, here he comes to tell 
 who he is himself. 
 
 E?iter Edmond. 
 
 Edmond. Suzette, I have juft heard how 
 narrow an escape you have had. 
 
 Sir Harry. And I have learn'd that I have 
 been mistaken in suspecting you, for which 
 I ask your pardon. 
 
 Edmond. Sir, it is thus mistake has ever 
 been my enemy. 
 
 Enter Lord Rigid. 
 Lord. Rigid. Edmond, I have in vain sought 
 lady Rigid where she appointed- and have in- 
 truded here in hopes 
 
 7 Major.
 
 A COMEDY. 99 
 
 Major. My lord, I'm glad to see you, and, 
 when some things are explained, may perhaps 
 shake your son by the hand don't be surpris'd, 
 young man, I can't help iVbecause the girl you 
 have seduced would otherwise be miserable. 
 
 Edmond. Suzette has been too long so, and 
 'tis time to prove a secret marriage was her only 
 crime. 
 
 Major. A secret marriage ! Mas she not 
 carried off by hired scoundrels, and didn't she 
 return and tell me she was rescued by a stranger ? 
 
 Edmond. / was that stranger, who for the 
 first time saw and saved her the villain and his 
 minions disappeared, and the blamp of all rested 
 of course on me. 
 
 Suzette. And was \ you the man I have been 
 taught to fear ! Ah, Edmond, why have you 
 deceived me ? 
 
 Edmond. Yes, I am he to whom you oft 
 have said that death were better than any union 
 with him vou little thought you then conversed 
 with Sir, had your daughter known mc, that 
 secret marriage never had taken place, for which 
 you banished her. I brought her back, pretend- 
 ing to have bought the Hermitage for this 
 imposture, which a hard world's injustice put 
 me on, I do beseech her pardon, though in assert- 
 ing I was not a reprobate, I never used deceit. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Your not marrying till a certain 
 
 period, being the condition on which you held 
 
 o 3 your
 
 loo GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 your estate, I can suppose your reason for a 
 secret union ; but surely I 
 
 Edmond. Your lordship at that time had 
 forbad all intercourse. 
 
 Major. But, zounds I hadn't I a right to be 
 inform'd, Suzette. 
 
 Suzette. Could I ruin him whose all de- 
 pended on the secret ? 
 
 Major. You might have trusted me. 
 
 Suzette. Indeed 1 
 
 Major. Yes I'd have proclaimed it to the 
 whole world Harkye, run to the church re- 
 gister, scratch out that spiders web, and tell 
 Mr. Amen that for once he is outwitted. 
 
 Gregory. Well, though I'm no servant I'll 
 go on that errand, however. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Harry. Well, but my good friend ! your 
 estate did'nt depend on your going by the name 
 of Wilson ! 
 
 Edmond. An assumed name was necessary 
 to foil, at their own arts, the gamesters who had 
 nearly ruined you, hence I was reckoned their 
 associate. 
 
 Charles. Whence arose the false report of 
 Edmond's cowardice? 
 
 Edmond. At college I beheld a scene of 
 modern honour, too dreadful to repeat, but which 
 resolved me never to be a duellist; and here \ 
 answered for the fault of one who else would 
 have been ruin'd / was expelled, my com- 
 panions applauded me, and kept the secret. 
 
 Afterwards.
 
 A COMEDY. 101 
 
 Afterwards, at camp, a headstrong youth ask'd 
 satisfaction for an insult given by himself, I 
 answered with my cane, and left the army. 
 
 Major. Enough ! you attacked your father 
 with a sword. 
 
 Lord Rigid. No, Sir and yet that day of 
 mystery - 
 
 Edmond. Lives in my memory ever Sir, 
 that day has cost me nights of sleepless miser} 7 , 
 or if the weight of sorrow closed my eyes, in 
 fancy I beheld the hateful scene, then waked 
 and M r alk'd abroad to meet the glance of pity 
 or contempt, from those who warn'd their chil- 
 dren, as I pass'd, to shun the Reprobate all were 
 my enemies, and but for these [taking a hand 
 of Charles and Suzette] this world had still 
 remained a blank to Edmond, to whom no living 
 creature bore affection, for whom no living 
 creature heav'd a sigh ! 
 
 Lord Rigid. This is no vindication 
 
 Edmond. Thus called on, I proceed; shunn'd 
 and disgrac'd for what I last related, I sought 
 for consolation in the dwelling of a fancied 
 friend, whose niece, the fascinating Julia, won 
 jny affections. 
 
 Suzette. Your affections, Edmond! 
 
 Edmond. Are and will be your's they once 
 were her's of whom I spoke, but she in my 
 absence, threatened and deceived by false ac- 
 counts of me, was wedded to a rich and powerful 
 fival. 
 
 Lord
 
 los GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 Lord Rigid. Edmond ! [much agitated.'] 
 
 Edmond. My father also married, and on 
 my return from travel, the first I met at home 
 was Julia f [points to lady Rigid who enters 
 with Sophia.] 
 
 Lord Rigid. Your Julia! 
 
 Lady Rigid. Spare not proceed you 
 found your father's wife. 
 
 Edmond. Not knowing this, I clasp'd her 
 to my hosom she in her grief exclaimed, ' I 
 know not what of treachery' my father entered, 
 and, ere he well cou'd see me for his rage, assail'd 
 me with his sword ; for his sake, not my own, I 
 forced it from him. the servants thence report- 
 ed that I had dared attempt a parent's life. 
 
 Lady Rigid. Alas, I knew not then you 
 were his father, and terrified, forbore an explana- 
 tion, which each day's criminal delay rendered 
 more painful he return *d my letters, and gene- 
 rously concealed his innocence to preserve my 
 peace. 
 
 Lord Rigid. My good, my noble son, how 
 have I been deceived ! how cou ? d you bear 
 
 Edmond. Indigivdnt pride sometime sustaiu'd 
 me, but when in solitude that spirit fell, it then 
 became my happy chance to rescue thee, Suzette, 
 who re-inspiied me with desire to live not 
 daring at first to own I was the man whom 
 even her kind nature had been taught to 
 hate, like you ; [to lady Rigid] I still put off 
 
 the
 
 A COMEDY. los 
 
 the dreaded explanation, pass'd for another* met 
 her often in her way to help the needy cottager ; 
 and in a happy moment won her hand. 
 
 Lady Rigid. Fit recompense for such a 
 heart as yours, 
 
 Edmond. Yet have I much of error to atone 
 for prejudged from infancy, a sullen feeling 
 has often checked my wish to undeceive, 
 though I severely felt, no pointed weapon can 
 inflict a wound so deep, so cureless, and so 
 agonizing, as poisonous calumny ! 
 
 Balance. Now, Major, what think you, 
 Guilty or not Guilty? 
 
 Trian. [as he enters.] Stop, summing up is 
 a part of my business. 
 
 Major. I had sworn to knock his brains out; 
 but, as he has married my daughter I'll not 
 interfere between man and wife. 
 
 Trian. Right, matrimonial arithmetic shou'd 
 have nothing to do with division. 
 
 Suzette. Dear father, it is thus your good- 
 ness will ever counteract your anger. 
 
 Major. Hold your tongue ! my anger was 
 just, and nobody but myself shall say to the 
 contrary. [Going] 
 
 Edmond. And will you leave us, Sir? 
 
 Major. Tis only for something I have left 
 up stairs. 
 
 Suzette. Cannot I 
 
 Major. Stay with your husband. Did'nt 
 
 you
 
 104 GUILTY or NOT GUILTY: 
 
 you tell me the child was there? [Apart to 
 Suzette.} 
 
 Suzette. \ flies into his arms.] Good father! 
 
 Major. The hussy means Gran ^-father. 
 
 Trian. Aye, there's another Scholar for me. 
 
 Major. But you are a coaxing baggage, 
 and always have your way in every thing. 
 
 Lord Rigid. Sir Harry, I must now apolo- 
 gise to you. 
 
 Sir Harry. That's kind, my Lord ; and here 
 are a pair, who, if well match'd in Hymen's cur- 
 ricle, will never think of pulling different ways. 
 
 Sophia. I wish you'd mind your own cur- 
 ricle, which has nearly been the death of me, Sir 
 Harry. 
 
 Balance. And my son, who saved you, has 
 already asked my consent to enter your name 
 in the family journal. 
 
 Trian. Give it him Sir my boys shall at- 
 tend the young couple to church, I'll put the 
 wedding in all the newspapers, and your jour- 
 nal shall'have a place in my library. 
 
 Mrs. Bal. You do every thing in such a 
 hurry It isn't that we want to know the Lady's 
 fortune; but 
 
 Lord Rigid. As a proof I never connived 
 at her brother's extravagance, for my own sake, 
 I have been lending him his sister's money, for 
 which she shall receive legal interest and dispose 
 of the mortgage as she pleases. 
 
 Sir
 
 A COMEDY. 105 
 
 Sir Harry. Then I'll curbmy loveof racing; 
 pull in my expenses; and if ever I fight with a 
 friend, old Gregory shall load my pistols. 
 
 Edmond. And now, Sir, if acknowledgment 
 of error may entitle us to plead for pardon, on 
 such a claim will we venture to indulge a hope 
 of general forgiveness ; for my own part I shall 
 rejoice sincerely if the mistaken light, in which I 
 have been vie w'd, may induce my friends in future 
 to censure with indulgence, and pause ere they 
 condemn. 
 
 F.NB OF THE COMEDY.
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR OF THE COMEDY, 
 
 AND SPOKEN BY MR. ELLISTON, IN THE CHARACTER 
 
 OF A COUNSELLOR. 
 
 MY Ladies, Luds, and Gem'men of the Jury, 
 
 This cause is not yet finish'd, I assure ye : 
 
 Counsellor Critical, who thinks with me, 
 
 Moves to shew cause against the Author's plea : 
 
 For we can prove, and that with ease, before ye, 
 
 These scenes are stolen from a well-known story ; 
 
 And all the sorrows you heard me relate, 
 
 In ev'ry sentence mark th#! Reprobate, 
 
 Who for low characters has searched each hovel, 
 
 And taken this here Play from that there Novel. 
 
 If every Scribbler thus his subject chuses, 
 
 They'll act next in the Temple of the Muses: 
 
 Eastward may all Dramatic folks repair, 
 
 And Coven t Garden quit for Finsbury Square. 
 
 While the Minerva Press, with equal gain, 
 
 At Leaden hall, will rival Drury Lane. 
 
 Besides this Muse, you must to prison send her ; 
 
 I've evidence that she's an old offender. 
 
 And first I call, her wicked pranks to show, 
 
 A very worthy Jew A'bednego ! 
 
 Come into Court. " Vel, vat you vant mit me f 
 
 " I '11 shwear de truth, vatever it may be." 
 
 " You know this Poet?" " Know hiin ! I'll engage 
 
 " lie's a great rogue he brought vie on de Stage 
 
 " Against ma vill, along mit an old doctor, 
 
 " And a young shemale ; in a bed-room lockt her 
 
 " Alone mit me I, that have got a vife, 
 
 " And never did such things in all ma life. 
 
 " I told 'em plain enough, ven all vas done, 
 
 " I'd take de law a-top of every von; 
 
 ru
 
 EPILOGUE. \Q7 
 
 u I'll have soch damages ! But shtop a bit 
 " Vere vill it come from, all vat I shall get ? 
 " Poor poets pockets are so long in filling, 
 " Dey hardly knows a guinea from a shilling. 
 " And tho' they write so fine, and talk so big 
 " I vonders how his worship sells his vig !" 
 
 u Where's Matthew Motto ?" " Here, Sir, coram nobis." 
 " You keep an inn ?'' " I do sic non vobis." 
 " Well, Sir, your evidence ; but take good heed, 
 " We can't accept the Will here for the Deed. 
 " Your inn's at Oxford ?" " No, I beg your pardon, 
 " My sign's cui bono, Sir, at Covent Garden. 
 " Noli prosequi I am come to sue 
 " The prisoner." " How did he injure you ?" 
 " How ? Saaviter in modo, Sir, he came 
 " Last sine die, with sticks, staves, and flame : 
 " My friends insulted; and, Sir, I'm no joker, 
 " Burnt all their boxes with a red hot poker. 
 " In short, in spite of all he may advance, 
 " Behaved quite Honi soit qui mal y petise." 
 
 j 
 
 1 
 
 " Call Peter Pullhaul ! " " 'Vast! my lads, belay? 
 " I knows the lubber that has launch'd this Play ; 
 " And he'd palaver you, that he made me 
 " Sail in a Cabinet to Italy, 
 " To serve a foreign Court, as if so be 
 " As how that you'd believe a British Tar 
 " Would fly his colours, while his King's at war ! 
 " No ! while old England calls us to our guns, 
 " On sea or shore, ve, John Bulls, never runs. 
 ' And us for Frenchified great Lords, d'ye see, 
 " Ve does'nt mind their Emperors, not ve." 
 
 I cou'd, with many more my cause support, 
 Of characters well known to all the Court ; 
 
 ? 2 Bui,
 
 108 EPILOGUE. 
 
 But, Gem'men, I contend, unless some flaw 
 
 Appear in the Indictment, law is law, 
 
 And evidence is strong, and fact is fact, 
 
 And you, I need'nt tell you how to act. 
 
 To prove him guilty, I have done my part, 
 
 If, trying to amuse you with his art; 
 
 And beg most earnestly I hope I'm right, 
 
 He may appear again another night. 
 
 When, since with your kind sanction we are greeted, 
 
 u Guilty or Not," this Play shall be repeated. 
 
 Luke Hanfaid, Printer, Cicat Tui .ilile, LincoluVInu Field*.
 
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