The School for Scandal 
 
 and 
 
 The Rivals
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED 
 
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 Capt. Absolute. In beauty, that copy is not equal to you. P. 317.
 
 THE 
 
 SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 
 
 AND 
 
 THE RIVALS 
 
 BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTINE BIRRELL, O.C., M.P. 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMUND J. SULLIVAN 
 
 LONDON : MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED 
 
 NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 1908
 
 First printed in Macmillans Illustrated Pocket Classics 
 1908
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 MR. FRASER RAE'S interesting and well-informed 
 Life of Sheridan, lately published by Mr. Bentley, 
 recalls attention to a brilliant figure in our dramatic 
 and parliamentary history that is never likely to 
 be forgotten. Such gifts as Sheridan's are not 
 easily overlooked. Indeed, it would be hard to 
 name any one whose reputation is more firmly 
 embedded in that great national tradition which 
 lives and thrives in happy independence of critics 
 and bookmakers and other rummagers amongst 
 the dust-heaps of history. Some vast amount of 
 years ago, I remember, being then one of the 
 smallest and most inquisitive of boys, anxiously 
 inquiring of a carpenter who was doing odd jobs 
 about the house who he would have wished to 
 be were he not the lucky owner of a straw-bag 
 full of dangerous tools. Quick, quite alarm- 
 ingly quick came his answer (and then for the 
 first time I heard the fascinating names), Richard 
 Brinsley Sheridan. The carpenter, I have no
 
 viii SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 doubt, proceeded to justify his decided preference 
 by telling his small friend about speeches in 
 Parliament and plays on the stage, but all I can 
 recall is his saying more than once " and he was a 
 great wit." And so he was, though you would 
 hardly guess so much from Mr. Rae's two 
 volumes. 
 
 The fact is that Sheridan's latest biographer 
 is an iconoclast, always a dangerous thing to 
 be, and what he seeks to smash is a tradition, 
 always a difficult thing to do. He has honestly 
 persuaded himself that the Sheridan who lives in 
 men's memories is a false Sheridan, and he has 
 set himself to work to restore the true one. 
 Animated by this belief, he has written a book 
 which all will do well to read, a book which very 
 likely will mark a point of departure for subse- 
 quent biographers and critics. 
 
 For my part, were I ever to be the biographer 
 of a famous man long dead, I would never quarrel 
 outright with a tradition. Temper it with charity, 
 modify it with time, make ample allowances for 
 jealousies and contending vanities, still ampler 
 for sheer inventiveness ; but this done, the stream 
 of tradition, thus purified, which has trickled down 
 to you, however far removed it may be from the 
 truth, is far more likely to be nearer that shy 
 commodity than anything you are in the least 
 likely to concoct or suppose for yourself.
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 Moore's Life of Sheridan is a bad book. Its 
 author was not the man to be able to take Byron's 
 excellent and manly advice : " In writing the life 
 of Sheridan, never mind the angry lies of the hum- 
 bug Whigs." l Both the biography of Sheridan 
 and Moore's own memoirs are stuffed far too 
 full of that unfriendliness of disposition, that ill- 
 natured gossip of Holland House which have 
 earned for the Whigs their unlovely reputation. 
 Still the means exist, scattered up and down 
 well-known and most readable books, by which 
 to test the tradition, the by no means unkindly 
 tradition, which has floated down to us, of the man 
 whom the carpenter, in 1857, longed to have 
 been, and whom Charles Lamb once affectionately 
 called '" our incomparable Brinsley." 2 
 
 As might be expected, it is the man Sheridan 
 who escapes our grasp the dramatist and the 
 orator, articles of known manufacture, are easier 
 to analyse. The materials for any determined, 
 dogged life of Sheridan are scanty. He led a 
 
 1 Moore's Life of Byron, iv. 135. 
 
 2 There is a story about Lamb and Sheridan in Crabb 
 Robinson's Diary, i. 268 : "A few months afterwards (1808), 
 F met Sir Charles Bunbury when I was walking with Lamb. 
 Sir Charles shook hands with me. Lamb was all astonish- 
 ment. ' I had no idea that you knew Sheridan.' ' Nor do 
 I. That's Sir Charles Bunbury.' ' That's impossible, I 
 have known him to be Sheridan all my life. That shall be 
 Sheridan. You thief, you have stolen my Sheridan ! '"
 
 x SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 solitary boyhood ; his mother being much abroad, 
 and his father always indifferent to him, his affec- 
 tions had no early bloom a terrible deprivation. 
 He was no letter-writer ; such letters as we have 
 of his are dull as ditch-water. His first wife, the 
 lovely Miss Linley, was an angel and a devoted 
 one, but her letters, even if they are hers, do not, 
 so far as they have been published, tell us any- 
 thing intimate of the husband she adored. But 
 that she did adore him is a fact to be noted. ' 
 
 What manner of man was Sheridan ? His 
 father, a most disagreeable creature, once said to 
 Rogers, " Talk of the merit of Dick's comedy ! 
 There is nothing in it. He had but to dip the 
 pencil in his own heart and he'd find there the 
 character of both Joseph and Charles." ] 
 
 Such a saying, spiteful though it be, when 
 uttered by a father, makes us think. That there 
 should have been something of Charles Surface 
 about our incomparable Brinsley need surprise no 
 one, but Joseph is another matter. I hasten to 
 add that the evidence we happily possess puts 
 hypocrisy out of the question. Everybody, even 
 the snarling Whigs, even the tattling Tutor Smyth 
 (afterwards, I regret to say, Regius Professor of 
 History in the University of Cambridge), admit 
 that Sheridan was an honest man. Those who 
 knew him best, his wives, one of artistic tempera- 
 
 1 Moore's Diary, iv. 226.
 
 INTRODUCTION x i 
 
 ment, the other (the more extravagant of the two) 
 the daughter of a dean, his wives' sisters (those 
 impartial witnesses), his colleagues, ay, even his 
 creditors, all unite in a chorus, and pronounce 
 Sheridan incorruptible and upright. But for all 
 this, he was, like the infamous Joseph, a man of 
 sentiment. Sheridan always assumed a lofty tone 
 and announced himself to be governed by rules 
 of independence and integrity which went as far 
 beyond the actual necessities of the case as did his 
 conduct fall short of those humbler rules of prudence 
 and punctuality which were all that was required 
 of him. Byron, whose admiration for Sheridan 
 was as unbounded as was his expression of it 
 generous, writes, " Once I saw him cry at Robin's 
 the auctioneer's after a splendid dinner, full of 
 great names and high spirits. I had the honour of 
 sitting next to Sheridan. The occasion of his tears 
 was some observation or other upon the subject 
 of the sturdiness of the Whigs in resisting office 
 and keeping to their principles. Sheridan turned 
 round, ' Sir, it is easy for my Lord G. or Earl G., 
 or Marquis B. or Lord H., with thousands upon 
 thousands a year, some of it either presently derived 
 or inherited in sinecure or acquisitions from the 
 public money, to boast of their patriotism and 
 keep aloof from temptation, but they do not know 
 from what temptation those have kept aloof, who 
 had equal pride, at least equal talents and not
 
 xii SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not in their 
 course of their lives what it was to have a shilling 
 of their own.' And in saying this he wept." 
 
 I suppose we may believe this, though I know 
 how dangerous it is to have to deal with men of 
 genius, and if we do, it is an example (and others 
 abound) to show what Sheridan's father meant 
 when he told Rogers that his son had a Joseph 
 Surface in his breast. But it was an honest 
 Joseph. 
 
 Another thing that is plain about Sheridan is 
 that he was an affectionate man. He was even 
 touchingly so. His perpetual anxiety that his 
 horrid father should love him proves what a fund 
 of affection he had within him. There is no need 
 to labour this point. 
 
 Although, of course, the most brilliant company 
 he was not a man gay of heart. Byron speaks 
 of him as saturnine and never laughing. Perhaps 
 his passion for practical jokes throws some light 
 upon the nature of his mirth. His intoxication, 
 however it may have interfered with his success 
 in life, is of small import. A glass or two of wine 
 upset him. When drunk he was better company 
 than the bulk of mankind when sober. By com- 
 mon consent he was a procrastinator. 
 
 Curiously enough, he was not a ready man. 
 He did not bubble over with good things. He 
 1 Byron's Life of Moore, ii. 201.
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 prepared himself carefully. The notes of his 
 speeches which Moore inspected reveal the fact 
 that he was far more afraid of forgetting the point 
 of his jokes than the thread of his discourse. Yet 
 he was a master of parliamentary badinage. I 
 suspect the fact was, that knowing himself not to 
 be a full man, he was timid of his own resources. 
 A full man of course he was not. How could he 
 be ? Knowledge is acquired. You may learn in 
 suffering what you teach in song, you may, if you 
 have added observation to wit, gain insight into 
 character and become wise in council, but neither 
 mother wit nor extensive observation will make 
 a full man. 
 
 Sheridan had a great capacity for taking pains. 
 In order to acquit himself well pro re natd, he 
 could toil with any lawyer getting up a case. He 
 would shut himself up in his room for hours 
 and work unremittingly, arranging his facts and 
 elaborating that vein of ridicule at which he 
 excelled. Nor did he quarrel with a dull subject, 
 but took what came. For thirty-one years he was 
 an active and useful member of Parliament. He 
 was no brilliant meteor, no flash in the pan, but 
 what Mr. Disraeli called " a personage." He 
 was a far cooler parliamentary hand than his 
 eminent countryman Burke, whom he once pulled 
 down in his seat, thereby preventing a painful 
 exhibition.
 
 xiv SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 As a politician Sheridan was acute and a better 
 judge of what is now called public opinion than 
 any of his Whig colleagues. 
 
 What were the great mistakes of that great 
 man Charles James Fox ? The Coalition, the 
 secession from Parliament, his far too strong lan- 
 guage in favour of the French Revolution, and his 
 India Bill. To all these things, such at least is 
 the tradition, Sheridan objected. 1 To call Sheridan 
 a wise man would be excessive praise, but he was 
 a shrewd politician. 
 
 . The prodigious reputation of his Begum speech 
 in the House of Commons on the yth of February 
 1787 proves how successful it was, and also what 
 a famous place is the lobby of the House of Com- 
 mons for the manufacture of a tradition. The 
 speech lasted for five hours and a half ; of necessity 
 it was heard by very few, and no report worthy of 
 the name was made either at the time or since, yet 
 Horace Walpole, who did not hear it, writing two 
 days afterwards to Lady Ossory, says, " If you could 
 bring over Mr. Sheridan he would do something ; 
 he talked for five hours and a half on Wednesday 
 and turned everybody's head. One heard every- 
 body in the streets raving on the wonders of the 
 speech." Walpole then adds, in his inimitable way, 
 " for my part I cannot believe it was so super- 
 natural as they say do you believe it was, 
 1 See Charles Butler's Reminiscences, 204.
 
 INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 madame ? " How are we to answer WaJpole ? 
 Mr. Pitt, who did hear the speech, in consenting 
 to the adjournment of the House, said that it sur- 
 passed all the eloquence of ancient and modern 
 times, and possessed everything that genius or art 
 could furnish to agitate and control the human 
 mind, whilst Fox declared that all he had ever 
 heard, all that he had ever read when compared 
 with it dwindled into nothing and vanished like 
 vapour before the sun. Here is human testimony. 
 It must indeed have been an enchanting, though 
 lengthy discourse. 
 
 Fox did not always admire Sheridan's oratory, 
 and coarsely pronounced his hardly less famous 
 speech on the same Begums, delivered in West- 
 minster Hall the following year, to be trumpery, 
 and he used to add that it spoilt the style of 
 Burke, who greatly admired it. 2 Fox ceased to 
 admire Burke's style at the same moment of time 
 as he ceased to agree with Burke's opinions. 
 
 From the specimens we have of Sheridan's 
 oratory, it is not difficult to come to the con- 
 clusion that its fascination consisted in charm of 
 delivery and manner, and in powers of ridicule 
 and light satire ; of real grandeur either of style 
 or sentiment there was no more than there was of 
 profundity of thought or depth of insight. Nor 
 
 1 Wai pole's Letters, vol. i. 93. 
 2 Moore's Diary, ii. 187.
 
 xvi SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 did his contemporaries (despite their rhapsodies 
 in the lobby) fail to perceive this. 
 
 It is of course Sheridan's comedies that keep 
 alive the true Sheridan tradition amongst the 
 people at large. 
 
 The Rivals, Sheridan's first play, was first pro- 
 duced at Covent Garden on the i yth of January 
 1775, * ts au thor being then twenty-four years old. 
 The play as he wrote it was far too long, and the 
 famous part of Sir Lucius O'Trigger falling into 
 bad hands, the first representation was a failure. 
 Sheridan, however, was an adept at revision, and after 
 he had cut down his manuscript, and the manage- 
 ment had substituted Mr. Clinch for Mr Lee, the 
 path of The Rivals became what it has ever since 
 remained, a path of pleasantness and theatrical 
 peace. St. Patrick's Day quickly followed The 
 Rivals, and The Duenna, St. Patrick's Day. The 
 Duenna first appeared at Covent Garden on the 
 2ist of November 1775. In 1777 Sheridan 
 assumed the management of Drury Lane and 
 opened with The Trip to Scarborough in February 
 of that year, and on the 8th of May, also in the 
 same year, appeared that joint miracle of manage- 
 ment and wit, The School for Scandal, with Mrs. 
 Abington, whose face, hung upon a wall, is still 
 enough to make the surliest smile, as the first 
 Lady Teazle. In 1788 appeared The Critic, 
 Sheridan's last play, as Pizarro (most prosperous
 
 INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 of all) has no pretensions to be treated as an 
 original work. So before he was forty Sheridan 
 ceased to be 'a dramatist. 
 
 No criticism of these plays seems to be less to 
 the purpose than that which concerns itself with the 
 undeniable use their author made of the methods 
 and manners of his predecessors. Sheridan is only 
 to be judged by the effect he produces, and that 
 effect is his, and nobody else's. Could anybody 
 ever have said that the credit of The School for 
 Scandal belonged to him and not to Sheridan? 
 Without the Rehearsal, there would have been no 
 Critic ; without Dogberry and Sir Andrew Ague- 
 cheek, there would have been no Mrs. Malaprop 
 and no Bob Acres. Possibly, in the same way, 
 without the Fall of Man there would have been 
 neither comedy nor tragedy. Sheridan by the order 
 of his mind belonged to the race who borrow. 
 Lord Thanet quoted aptly when, in reply to 
 Moore, who was talking foolishly about the use 
 Sheridan made of other men's wit, he called to 
 mind Moliere's famous phrase, " C'est mon bien et 
 je le prends ouje le trouve." Stolen goods betray 
 the receiver, who does not know how to get rid 
 of them ; but Sheridan had no difficulty in dispos- 
 ing of his appropriations. Were it pretended on 
 Sheridan's behalf that he was an original dramatist, 
 it might be necessary to consider the extent of his 
 1 Moore's Diary, iii. 233. 
 
 b ^
 
 xviii SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 pilferings, but as no such claim can be made, the 
 charge of literary theft may be contemptuously 
 dismissed. Landor, in one of his Imaginary Con- 
 versations? remarks, " Some traveller a little while 
 ago was so witty as to call Venice Rome not 
 indeed the Rome of the Tiber, but the Rome of 
 the sea. A poet ran instantly to the printers out 
 of breath at so glorious an opportunity of perpetu- 
 ating his fame and declaring to all Europe that he 
 had called Venice Rome the year before." 
 
 Though Sheridan as a dramatist can lay no claim 
 to especial originality, he nevertheless wrought a 
 great change, appearing as he did just when such a 
 change was demanded. He belonged to the school 
 of artificial comedy to the school of Wycherley, 
 Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar where wit 
 predominates and where human nature, happily 
 not altogether absent, is yet condemned to breathe 
 the air of a forcing-house for jests, and risible, 
 because risky, situations. 
 
 The elder men were, if one may say so, broader 
 in the beam than Sheridan. There are passages 
 in Congreve far stronger than anything Sheridan 
 ever wrote. For example, the well-known passage 
 in Love for Love, when Valentine reminds his 
 obdurate father though the latter could deprive 
 him of the family estate, he could not disinherit 
 him of the hereditary passions and tendencies with 
 1 The Abbe Delille and Walter Landor.
 
 INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 which he had endowed him at birth. Nor is there 
 anything in Sheridan's comedies so comical and 
 original as the fancy of Heartfree in Vanbrugh's 
 Provoked Wife, which first foreshadows, nay 
 indeed proclaims, the now famous philosophy of 
 Clothes. 
 
 But these elder dramatists had already become 
 impossible, not so much by reason of the coarse- 
 ness of their language, though that was repre- 
 hensible enough and made Miss Burney blush, as 
 by the exceeding hardness of their hearts, their 
 downright, vile inhumanity. Well does Lord 
 Macaulay put it, " We are surrounded by foreheads 
 of bronze, hearts like the nether-millstone, and 
 tongues set on fire of hell." What can be more 
 abominable than the words of Valentine (almost 
 his first words) in the fourth scene of the first act 
 of Congreve's Love for Love ? Who is to be 
 blamed if on encountering them he reads no more 
 Congreve that day or any other day ? This is 
 the real offence of these admirable writers and 
 undeniably witty fellows. 
 
 These dramatists were followed by a turgid 
 and insipid race of playwrights, who thought to 
 make up for their plentiful lack of wit and finish 
 by copious draughts of bombast, floods of tears, 
 and sentiment false as Belial. They won applause, 
 but of necessity their day was short. It was 
 Sheridan's allotted task to be witty after the 
 
 b 2
 
 xx SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 fashion of Congreve without inhumanity, and to 
 give mere sentiment the slip. 
 
 In The Rivals we note the transition, for Julia 
 and her Faulkland are still hopelessly entangled in 
 the thicket of sentiment, and there were those, we 
 know, in the early audiences who preferred the 
 sentiment to the wit, and the speeches of these 
 boring lovers to the humour of Bob Acres and Sir 
 Anthony Absolute. But in The School for Scandal 
 the triumph of wit is complete. 
 
 The complaint so frequently urged against 
 Sheridan, that his servants are as witty as their 
 masters, appears to me an unreasonable one in 
 artificial comedy. Why should they not be ? 
 The wit in question is not that of a Benedict or 
 a Falstaff, but a production quite as likely to 
 flourish in the servants' hall as in the card-room. 
 All that is required is a little additional pertness, 
 and this Sheridan usually supplies. After all, it is 
 not one bit more unlikely that Fag and Trip 
 should talk as they do, than that the empty-headed 
 libertines they serve should always prove them- 
 selves so prodigal of epigram and such masters of 
 style. 
 
 No ! the real risk to which The School for 
 Scandal is more and more exposed as the years 
 roll by, is lest it may be found trespassing on the 
 borderlands of truth and reality, and evoking 
 genuine feeling ; for as soon as it does this, the
 
 INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 surroundings must become incongruous and there- 
 fore painful. 
 
 Too long ago, when Miss Ellen Terry used to 
 act Lady Teazle at the Vaudeville with a moving 
 charm still happily hers, I remember hearing 
 behind me a youthful voice full of tears and terror 
 (it was of course when Joseph Surface was making 
 his insidious proposals to Lady Teazle) exclaim, 
 " Oh, mother, I hope she won't yield ! " and I then 
 became aware of the proximity of some youthful 
 creature to whom all this comic business (for one 
 knew the screen was soon to fall) was sheer 
 tragedy. It made me a little uncomfortable. To 
 Sheridan, nearer to Congreve than we now are to 
 Sheridan, it was all pure comedy. We see this 
 from the boisterous laughter with which Charles 
 Surface greets the denouement. Charles was no 
 doubt a rake, but he was not meant to be a heart- 
 less rake after .the fashion of the Wildairs of an 
 earlier day. Had he not refused five hundred 
 pounds for a trumpery picture of his uncle, for 
 whose fortune he was waiting? It was al! comedy 
 to Sheridan, and if it ever ceases to be all comedy 
 to us, it will be the first blow this triumphant 
 piece has ever received. 
 
 We do not go to the play to argue with the 
 players as to the view of life they present to us on 
 their mimic stage. We go to agree, not to quarrel ; 
 to laugh or to cry (what passes for crying), not to
 
 xxii SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 wrangle or discuss. Sooner than to do these latter 
 things, we will stop away altogether. It is indeed 
 a fierce light that beats upon the stage. Were it as 
 easy for a book to be damned as for a play, there 
 would be many more ugly gaps in our shelves than 
 there are. We can read in our arm-chairs and 
 enjoy with a languid pleasure many a book, 
 which, were its characters and incidents to be 
 presented to us on the boards, would outrage 
 our feelings and evoke our displeasure. 
 
 The comedies of Sheridan have already had a 
 long life, and though they are now entering upon 
 a century sure to prove one of critical stir and 
 stress, when old canons of taste, and rules of dia- 
 logue and of scenic propriety will be rudely upset, 
 I see no reason why The Rivals, The School 
 for Scandal, The Duenna, and The Critic should 
 not triumphantly emerge through the ordeal and 
 be received as warmly throughout the twentieth 
 century as they ever have been during the nine- 
 teenth. And if so, the Sheridan tradition will be 
 kept alive a good while longer.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL . 
 
 THE RIVALS .185
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 In beauty, that copy is not equal to you . . Frontispiece 
 
 Half-Title to " The School for Scandal "... i 
 Lady Sneerwell and Snake discovered drinking 
 
 chocolate . . . . . . . 15 
 
 My dear Lady Sneerwell, how do you do to-day ? . 19 
 
 Enter Maria . . . . . . . . 23 
 
 Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll 
 
 be too late. So, good-bye to ye . . . 4.5 
 
 Cards at Lady Sneerwell's ..... 49 
 
 Queen-of-Swords Minuet at Lady Sneerwell's . . 57 
 
 By all that's honest, I swear . . . . . 61 
 Hah! Sir Oliver my old friend! Welcome to 
 
 England a thousand times ! .... 66 
 Your friend is an unconscionable dog : but you can't 
 
 help that ....... 75 
 
 Well, you arc going to be in a passion, I sec, and I shall 
 
 only interrupt you so, bye bye ! . . 84 
 
 Bumpers, you rogues ! bumpers ! Maria ! Maria ! . 90
 
 xxvi SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen 93 
 
 You may knock down my ancestors with their own 
 
 pedigree . . . . . . . .105 
 
 Knock down my Aunt Deborah ! . . . .109 
 
 She always leaves her chair at the milliner's in the 
 
 next street . . . . . . .117 
 
 Ay, ever improving himself Mr. Surface, Mr. 
 
 Surface . . . . . . .124 
 
 Hush ! a little French milliner . . . she's in the 
 
 room now . . . . . . .136 
 
 Lady Teazle, by all that's damnable ! . . 139 
 
 Fiends! vipers! furies! . . . . . .157 
 
 Out with him, to be sure . . . . .167 
 
 Enter Snake 171 
 
 Leaves off practice, and kills characters no longer . 175 
 May you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and 
 
 I intend to do ! . . . . . .179 
 
 Tailpiece to "The School for Scandal" . . .182 
 
 Half-Title to " The Rivals " 185 
 
 This is "The Gordian Knot,"- and this "Peregrine 
 
 Pickle." Here are "The Tears of Sensibility," 
 
 and " Humphrey Clinker " 209 
 
 My dearest Julia, how delighted am I ! . . . 213 
 There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton 219 
 Let me see to what account have I turned my simplicity 
 
 lately ........ 226 
 
 Oh, I lied, sir I forget the precise lie . . .230 
 Now d n me ! if ever I call you Jack again ! . . 247
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 So, hussy, take a kiss beforehand, to put you in mind 255 
 I see an impudent scoundrel before me . . .261 
 Not to please your father, sir? . . . . 265 
 
 Captain Absolute and Lydia ..... 279 
 Ay, poor young man ! down on his knees entreating 
 
 for pity ! ....... 283 
 
 Dress does make a difference, David .... 287 
 
 Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme . . 293 
 Good-bye, master . . . . . . .301 
 
 Remember, Jack a determined dog ! 305 
 
 " Youth's the season made for joy " . . . .314 
 
 Oh'! Sir Anthony ! Oh fie, captain ! . . 320 
 
 She's gone ! for ever ! . . . . -333 
 
 So ! so ! here's fine work ! here's fine suicide, para- 
 
 cide, and simulation ! . . . . 338 
 
 Hey, Sir Lucius ! we we we we won't run . 349 
 Come on then, sir (draws] ; . . . here's my reply . 355 
 Pardon my blushes, I am Delia . . . -359 
 
 At night we single lads will drink a health to the 
 
 young couples, and a husband to Mrs Malaprop . 363
 
 A PORTRAIT 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, WITH THE COMEDY 
 OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 
 
 BY R. B. SHERIDAN, ESQ. 
 
 TELL me, ye prim adepts in Scandal's school, 
 Who rail by precept, and detract by rule, 
 Lives there no character, so tried, so known, 
 So deck'd with grace, and so unlike your own, 
 That even you assist her fame to raise, 
 Approve by envy, and by silence praise ! 
 Attend ! a model shall attract your view- 
 Daughters of calumny, I summon you ! 
 You shall decide if this a portrait prove, 
 Or fond creation of the Muse and Love. 
 Attend, ye virgin critics, shrewd and sage, 
 Ye matron censors of this childish age, 
 Whose peering eye and wrinkled front declare 
 A fixt antipathy to young and fair ; 
 By cunning, cautious ; or by nature, cold, 
 In maiden madness, virulently bold ! 
 Attend ! ye skilled to coin the precious tale,
 
 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 Creating proof, where inuendos fail ! 
 Whose practised memories, cruelly exact, 
 Omit no circumstance, except the fact ! 
 Attend, all ye who boast, or old or young, 
 The living libel of a slanderous tongue ! 
 So shall my theme as far contrasted be, 
 As saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny. 
 Come, gentle Amoret (for 'neath that name, 
 In worthier verse is sung thy beauty's fame) ; 
 Come for but thee who seeks the Muse? and 
 
 while 
 
 Celestial blushes check thy conscious smile, 
 With timid grace, and hesitating eye, 
 The perfect model, which I boast, supply : 
 Vain Muse ! couldst thou the humblest sketch 
 
 create 
 
 Of her, or slightest charm couldst imitate 
 Could thy blest strain in kindred colours trace 
 The faintest wonder of her form and face 
 Poets would study the immortal line, 
 And Reynolds own his art subdued by thine ; 
 That art, which well might added lustre give 
 To Nature's best, and Heaven's superlative : 
 On Granby 's cheek might bid new glories rise, 
 Or point a purer beam from Devon's eyes ! 
 Hard is the task to shape that beauty's praise, 
 Whose judgment scorns the homage flattery pays ! 
 But praising Amoret we cannot err, 
 No tongue o'ervalues Heaven, or flatters her ! 
 Yet she by Fate's perverseness she alone 
 Would doubt our truth, nor deem such praise 
 
 her own ! 
 Adorning Fashion, unadorn'd by dress,
 
 A PORTRAIT 5 
 
 Simple from taste, and not from carelessness ; 
 
 Discreet in gesture, in deportment mild, 
 
 Not stiff with prudence, nor uncouthly wild : 
 
 No state has Amoret ! no studied mien ; 
 
 She frowns no goddess, and she moves no queen. 
 
 The softer charm that in her manner lies 
 
 Is framed to captivate, yet not surprise ; 
 
 It justly suits th' expression of her face, 
 
 'Tis less than dignity, and more than grace ! 
 
 On her pure cheek the native hue is such, 
 
 That form'd by heav'n to be admired so much, 
 
 The hand divine, with a less partial care, 
 
 Might well have fix'd a fainter crimson there, 
 
 And bade the gentle inmate of her breast, 
 
 Inshrined Modesty ! supply the rest. 
 
 But who the peril of her lips shall paint ? 
 
 Strip them of smiles still, still all words are 
 
 faint ! 
 
 But moving Love himself appears to teach 
 Their action, though denied to rule her speech ; 
 And thou who seest her speak and dost not hear, 
 Mourn not her distant accents 'scape thine ear ; 
 Viewing those lips, thou still may'st make pretence 
 To judge of what she says, and swear 'tis sense : 
 Cloth'd with such grace, with such expression 
 
 fraught, 
 
 They move in meaning, and they pause in thought ! 
 But dost thou farther watch, with charm'd surprise, 
 The mild irresolution of her eyes, 
 Curious to mark how frequent they repose, 
 In brief eclipse and momentary close 
 Ah ! seest thou not an ambush'd Cupid there, 
 Too tim'rous of his charge, with jealous care
 
 6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 Veils and unveils those beams of heav'nly light, 
 
 Too full, too fatal else, for mortal sight ? 
 
 Nor yet, such pleasing vengeance fond to meet, 
 
 In pard'ning dimples hope a safe retreat. 
 
 What though her peaceful breast should ne'er 
 
 allow 
 
 Subduing frowns to arm her alter 'd brow, 
 By Love, I swear, and by his gentle wiles, 
 More fatal still the mercy of her smiles ! 
 Thus lovely, thus adorn'd, possessing all 
 Of bright or fair that can to woman fall, 
 The height of vanity might well be thought 
 Prerogative in her, and Nature's fault. 
 Yet gentle Amoret^ in mind supreme 
 As well as charms, rejects the vainer theme ; 
 And half mistrustful of her beauty's store, 
 She barbs with wit those darts too keen before : 
 Read in all knowledge that her sex should reach, 
 Though Greville, or the Muse, should deign to 
 
 teach, 
 
 Fond to improve, nor tim'rous to discern 
 How far it is a woman's grace to learn ; 
 In Millar s dialect she would not prove 
 Apollo's priestess, but Apollo's love, 
 Graced by those signs, which truth delights to 
 
 own, 
 
 The timid blush, and mild submitted tone : 
 Whate'er she says, though sense appear throughout, 
 Displays the tender hue of female doubt ; 
 Deck'd with that charm, how lovely wit appears, 
 How graceful science^ when that robe she wears ! 
 Such too her talents, and her bent of mind, 
 As speak a sprightly heart by thought refined,
 
 A PORTRAIT 7 
 
 A taste for mirth, by contemplation school'd, 
 A turn for ridicule, by candour ruled, 
 A scorn of folly, which she tries to hide; 
 An awe of talent, which she owns with pride ! 
 
 Peace ! idle Muse, no more thy strain prolong, 
 But yield a theme, thy warmest praises wrong ; 
 Just to her merit, though thou canst not raise 
 Thy feeble verse, behold th' acknowledged praise 
 Has spread conviction through the envious train, 
 And cast a fatal gloom o'er Scandal's reign ! 
 And lo ! each pallid hag, with blister'd tongue, 
 Mutters assent to all thy zeal has sung 
 Owns all the colours just the outline true ; 
 Thee my inspirer, and my model CREWE !
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK 
 
 A SCHOOL for Scandal ! tell me, I beseech you, 
 
 Needs there a school this modish art to teach you ? 
 
 No need of lessons now, the knowing think ; 
 
 We might as well be taught to eat and drink. 
 
 Caused by a dearth of scandal, should the vapours 
 
 Distress our fair ones let them read the papers ; 
 
 Their powerful mixtures such disorders hit ; 
 
 Crave what you will there's quantum sufficit. 
 
 " Lord ! " cries my Ladv Wormwood (who loves 
 tattle, 
 
 And puts much salt and pepper in her prattle), 
 
 Just ris'n at noon, all night at cards when 
 threshing 
 
 Strong tea and scandal "Bless me, how re- 
 freshing ! 
 
 Give me the papers, Lisp how bold and free ! 
 (sips) 
 
 Last night Lord L. (sips) was caught with 
 Lady D. 
 
 For aching heads what charming sal volatile ! 
 (sips}
 
 jo SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 If Mrs. B. will still continue flirting, 
 
 We hope she'll DRAW, or we'll UNDRAW the 
 
 curtain. 
 
 Fine satire, poz in public all abuse it, 
 But, by ourselves, (sips} our praise we can't 
 
 refuse it. 
 
 Now, Lisp, read you there, at that dash and 
 
 
 star : 
 
 " Yes, ma'am A certain lord had best beware, 
 Who lives not twenty miles from Grosvenor 
 
 Square ; 
 
 For should he Lady W. find willing, 
 Wormwood is bitter" "Oh! that's me, the 
 
 villain ! 
 
 Throw it behind the fire, and never more 
 Let that vile paper come within my door." 
 Thus at our friends we laugh, who feel the dart ; 
 To reach our feelings, we ourselves must smart. 
 Is our young bard so young, to think that he 
 Can stop the full springtide of calumny ? 
 Knows he the world so little, and its trade ? 
 Alas ! the devil's sooner raised than laid 
 So strong, so swift, the monster there's no gagging : 
 Cut Scandal's head off, still the tongue is wagging. 
 Proud of your smiles once lavishly bestow'd, 
 Again our young Don Quixote takes the road ; 
 To show his gratitude he draws his pen, 
 And seeks this hydra, Scandal, in his den. 
 For your applause all perils he would through- 
 He'll fight that's write a cavalliero true, 
 Till every drop of blood that's ink is spilt for 
 
 you.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE, MAY 8, 1777 
 
 SIR PETER TEAZLE . . . Mr. King. 
 
 SIR OLIVER SURFACE . . . Mr. Tates. 
 
 JOSEPH SURFACE . . . . Mr. Palmer. 
 
 CHARLES . . . Mr. Smith. 
 
 CRABTREE . . Mr. Parsons. 
 
 SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE . . Mr. Dodd, 
 
 ROWLEY ..... Mr. Aickin. 
 
 MOSES ..... Mr. Baddeley. 
 
 TRIP . . . Mr. Lamash. 
 
 SNAKE . ... Mr. Packer. 
 
 CARELESS ... . Mr. Farren. 
 
 SIR HARRY BUMPER . . Mr. Gawdry. 
 
 LADY TEAZLE .... Mrs. Abington. 
 
 MARIA ..... Miss P. Hopkins. 
 
 LADY SNEERWELL . . . Miss Sherry. 
 
 MRS. CANDOUR . . Miss Pope.
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. Lady SNEERWELL'S House 
 
 Discovered Lady SNEER WELL at the dressing- 
 table ; SNAKE drinking chocolate 
 
 Lady Sneer. The paragraphs, you say, Mr. 
 Snake, were all inserted ? 
 
 Snake. They were, madam ; and as I copied 
 them myself in a feigned hand, there can be no 
 suspicion whence 'they came. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Did you circulate the report of 
 Lady Brittle's intrigue with Captain Boastall ? 
 
 Snake. That's in as fine a train as your lady- 
 ship could wish. In the common course of 
 things, I think it must reach Mrs. Clackitt's 
 ears within four and twenty hours ; and then, 
 you know, the business is as good as done. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Why, truly, Mrs. Clackitt has a 
 very pretty talent, and a great deal of industry. 
 
 Snake. True, madam, and has been tolerably 
 successful in her day. To my knowledge she
 
 i 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 has been the cause of six matches being broken 
 off, and three sons disinherited ; of four forced 
 elopements, and as many close confinements ; 
 nine separate maintenances, and two divorces. 
 Nay, I have more than once traced her causing 
 a tete-a-tete in the Town and Country Magazine, 
 when the parties, perhaps, had never seen each 
 other's face before in the course of their lives. 
 
 Lady Sneer. She certainly has talents, but her 
 manner is gross. 
 
 Snake. 'Tis very true. She generally designs 
 well, has a free tongue and a bold invention ; 
 but her colouring is too dark, and her outlines 
 often extravagant. She wants that delicacy of 
 tint, and mellowness of sneer, which distinguishes 
 your ladyship's scandal. 
 
 Lady Sneer. You are partial, Snake. 
 
 Snake. Not in the least everybody allows 
 that Lady Sneerwell can do more with a word 
 or a look than many can with the most laboured 
 detail, even when they happen to have a little 
 truth on their side to support it. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Yes, my dear Snake ; and I am 
 no hypocrite to deny the satisfaction I reap from 
 the success of my efforts. Wounded myself in 
 the early part of my life by the envenomed 
 tongue of slander, I confess I have since known 
 no pleasure equal to the reducing others to the 
 level of my own injured reputation. 
 
 Snake. Nothing can be more natural. But, 
 Lady Sneerwell, there is one affair in which you 
 have lately employed me, wherein, I confess, I 
 am at a loss to guess your motives.
 
 Lady Sneerwell and Snake discovered drinking chocolate.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 17 
 
 Lady Sneer. I conceive you mean with respect 
 to my neighbour, Sir Peter Teazle, and his family ? 
 
 Snake. I do. Here are two young men, to 
 whom Sir Peter has acted as a kind of guardian 
 since their father's 4 death ; the eldest possessing 
 the most amiable character, and universally well 
 spoken of the youngest, the most dissipated 
 and extravagant young fellow in the kingdom, 
 without friends or character : the former an 
 avowed admirer of your ladyship's, and ap- 
 parently your favourite : the latter attached to 
 Maria, Sir Peter's ward, and confessedly beloved 
 by her. Now, on the face of these circumstances, 
 it is utterly unaccountable to me, why you, the 
 widow of a city knight, with a good jointure, 
 should not close with the passion of a man of 
 such character and expectations as Mr. Surface ; 
 and more so why you should be so uncommonly 
 earnest to destroy the mutual attachment sub- 
 sisting between his brother Charles and Maria. 
 
 t 
 
 Lady Sneer. Then at once to unravel this 
 mystery, I must inform you, that love has no 
 share whatever in the intercourse between Mr. 
 Surface and me. 
 
 Snake. No! 
 
 Lady Sneer. His real attachment is to Maria, 
 or her fortune ; but finding in his brother a 
 favoured rival, he has been obliged to mask his 
 pretensions, and profit by my assistance. 
 
 Snake. Yet still I am more puzzled why you 
 should interest yourself in his success. 
 
 Lady Sneer. How dull you are ! Cannot you 
 surmise the weakness which I hitherto, through 
 
 c
 
 ,8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 shame, have concealed even from you ? Must I 
 confess, that Charles, that libertine, that ex- 
 travagant, that bankrupt in fortune and reputa- 
 tion, that he it is for whom I'm thus anxious 
 and malicious, and to gain whom I would sacrifice 
 everything ? 
 
 Snake. Now, indeed, your conduct appears 
 consistent : but how came you and Mr. Surface 
 so confidential ? 
 
 Lady Sneer. For our mutual interest. I have 
 found him out a long time since. I know him to 
 be artful, selfish, and malicious in short, a senti- 
 mental knave ; while with Sir Peter, and indeed 
 with all his acquaintance, he passes for a youthful 
 miracle of prudence, good sense, and benevolence. 
 
 Snake. Yes ; yet Sir Peter vows he has not 
 his equal in England and above all, he praises 
 him as a man of sentiment. 
 
 Lady Sneer. True and with the assistance of 
 his sentiment and hypocrisy, he has brought Sir 
 Peter entirely into his interest with regard to Maria; 
 while poor Charles has no friend in the house, 
 though, I fear, he has a powerful one in Maria's 
 heart, against whom we must direct our schemes. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Mr. Surface. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Show him up. [Exit SERVANT. 
 
 Enter JOSEPH SURFACE 
 
 Joseph S. My dear Lady Sneerwell, how do 
 you do to-day ? Mr. Snake, your most obedient.
 
 Joseph. My dear Lady Sneerivell, Imo do you do to-day ?
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 21 
 
 Lady Sneer, Snake has just been rallying me 
 on our mutual attachment ; but I have informed 
 him of our real views. You know how useful he 
 has been to us, and, believe me, the confidence 
 is not ill placed. 
 
 Joseph S. Madam, it is impossible for me to 
 suspect a man of Mr. Snake's sensibility and 
 discernment. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Well, well, no compliments now ; 
 but tell me when you saw your mistress, Maria 
 or, what is more material to me, your brother. 
 
 Joseph S. I have not seen either since I left 
 you ; but I can inform you that they never 
 meet. Some of your stories have taken a good 
 effect on Maria. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Ah ! my dear Snake ! the merit 
 of this belongs to you : but do your brother's 
 distresses increase? 
 
 Joseph S. Every hour. I am told he has had 
 another execution in the house yesterday. In 
 short, his dissipation and extravagance exceed any- 
 thing I have ever heard of. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Poor Charles ! 
 
 Joseph S. True, madam ; notwithstanding 
 his vices, one can't help feeling for him. Poor 
 Charles ! I'm sure I wish it were in my power 
 to be of any essential service to him ; for the 
 man who does not share in the distresses of a 
 brother, even though merited by his own mis- 
 conduct, deserves 
 
 Lady Sneer. O Lud ! you are going to be 
 moral, and forget that you are among friends. 
 
 Joseph S. Egad, that's true! I'll keep that
 
 22 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT 5 
 
 sentiment till I see Sir Peter ; however, it cer- 
 tainly is a charity to rescue Maria from such a 
 libertine, who, if he is to be reclaimed, can be 
 so only by a person of your ladyship's superior 
 accomplishments and understanding. 
 
 Snake. I believe, Lady Sneerwell, here's com- 
 pany coming : I'll go and copy the letter I 
 mentioned to you. Mr. Surface, your most 
 obedient. \JLxit SNAKE. 
 
 "Joseph S. Sir, your very devoted. Lady 
 Sneerwell, I am very sorry you have put any 
 further confidence in that fellow. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Why so ? 
 
 Joseph S. I have lately detected him in fre- 
 quent conference with old Rowley, who was 
 formerly my father's steward, and has never, 
 you know, been a friend of mine. 
 
 Lady Sneer. And do you think he would be- 
 tray us? 
 
 Joseph S. Nothing more likely : take my 
 word for't, Lady Sneerwell, that fellow hasn't 
 virtue enough to be faithful even to his own 
 villany. Ah! Maria! 
 
 Enter MARIA 
 
 Lady Sneer. Maria, my dear, how do you do ? 
 -What's the matter ? 
 
 Maria. Oh ! there is that disagreeable lover 
 of mine, Sir Benjamin Backbite, has just called 
 at my guardian's, with his odious uncle, Crab- 
 tree ; so I slipt out, and ran hither to avoid 
 them.
 
 Enter Maria.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 25 
 
 Lady Sneer. Is that all ? 
 
 Joseph S. If my brother Charles had been of 
 the party, madam, perhaps you would not have 
 been so much alarmed. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Nay, now you are severe ; for I 
 dare swear the truth of the matter is, Maria 
 heard you were here. But, my dear, what has 
 Sir Benjamin done, that you would avoid him 
 so? 
 
 Maria. Oh, he has done nothing but 'tis 
 for what he has said : his conversation is a per- 
 petual libel on all his acquaintance. 
 
 Joseph S. Ay, and the worst of it is, there 
 is no advantage in not knowing him for he'll 
 abuse a stranger just as soon as his best friend ; 
 and his uncle's as bad. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Nay, but we should make allow- 
 ance, Sir Benjamin is a wit and a poet. 
 
 Maria. For my part, I confess, madam, wit 
 loses its respect with me, when I see it in com- 
 pany with malice. What do you think, Mr. 
 Surface ? 
 
 Joseph S. Certainly, madam ; to smile at the 
 jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is 
 to become a principal in the mischief. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Pshaw ! there's no possibility of 
 being witty without a little ill-nature : the malice 
 of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. 
 What's your opinion, Mr. Surface ? 
 
 Joseph S. To be sure, madam ; that conversa- 
 tion, where the spirit of raillery is suppressed, will 
 ever appear tedious and insipid. 
 
 Maria. Well, I'll not debate how far scandal
 
 26 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 may be allowable ; but in a man, I am sure, it 
 is always contemptible. We have pride, envy, 
 rivalship, and a thousand motives to depreciate 
 each other ; but the male slanderer must have 
 the cowardice of a woman before he can traduce 
 one. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Madam, Mrs. Candour is below, and 
 if your ladyship's at leisure, will leave her 
 carriage. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Beg her to walk in. [Exit SER- 
 VANT.] Now, Maria, here is a character to your 
 taste ; for though Mrs. Candour is a little talka- 
 tive, everybody allows her to be the best-natured 
 and best sort of woman. 
 
 Maria. Yes, with a very gross affectation of 
 good nature and benevolence, she does more 
 mischief than the direct malice of old Crabtree. 
 
 Joseph S. Ffaith that's true, Lady Sneerwell : 
 whenever I hear the current running against 
 the characters of my friends, I never think them 
 in such danger as when Candour undertakes their 
 defence. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Hush ! here she is ! 
 
 Enter MRS. CANDOUR 
 
 Mrs. Can. My dear Lady Sneerwell, how have 
 
 you been this century? Mr. Surface, what 
 
 news do you hear? though indeed it is no 
 matter, for I think one hears nothing else but 
 scandal.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 27 
 
 Joseph S. Just so, indeed, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Oh, Maria ! child, what, is the 
 whole affair off between you and Charles? 
 His extravagance, I presume the town talks 
 of nothing else. 
 
 Maria. I am very sorry, ma'am, the town has 
 so little to do. 
 
 Mrs. Can. True, true, child : but there's no 
 stopping people's tongues. I own I was hurt to 
 hear it, as I indeed was to learn, from the same 
 quarter, that your guardian, Sir Peter, and Lady 
 Teazle have not agreed lately as well as could be 
 wished. 
 
 Maria. 'Tis strangely impertinent for people 
 to busy themselves so. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Very true, child : but what's to 
 be done ? People will talk there's no preventing 
 it. Why, it was but yesterday 1 was told that 
 Miss Gadabout had eloped with Sir Filigree Flirt. 
 But, Lord ! there's no minding what one hears ; 
 though, to be sure, I had this from very good 
 authority. 
 
 Maria. Such reports are highly scandalous. 
 
 Mrs. Can. So they are, child shameful, 
 shameful ! But the world is so censorious, no 
 
 character escapes. Lord, now who would have 
 
 suspected your friend, Miss Prim, of an indis- 
 cretion ? Yet such is the ill-nature of people, 
 that they say her uncle stopt her last week, just as 
 she was stepping into the York diligence with her 
 dancing-master. 
 
 Maria. I'll answer for't there are no grounds 
 for that report.
 
 2 g SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ah, no foundation in the world, I 
 dare swear ; no more, probably, than for the story 
 circulated last month, of Mrs. Festino's affair with 
 Colonel Cassino ; though, to be sure, that matter 
 was never rightly cleared up. 
 
 Joseph S. The licence of invention some people 
 take is monstrous indeed. 
 
 Maria. 'Tis so, but, in my opinion, those 
 who report such things are equally culpable. 
 
 Mrs. Can. To be sure they are ; tale-bearers 
 are as bad as the tale-makers 'tis an old observa- 
 tion, and a very true one : but what's to be done, 
 as I said before? how will you prevent people 
 from talking ? To-day, Mrs. Clackitt assured me, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become 
 mere man and wife, like the rest of their acquaint- 
 ance. She likewise hinted that a certain widow, 
 in the next street, had got rid of her dropsy and 
 recovered her shape in a most surprising manner. 
 And at the same time, Miss Tattle, who was by, 
 affirmed, that Lord Buffalo had discovered his lady 
 at a house of no extraordinary fame ; and that Sir 
 H. Boquet and Tom Saunter were to measure 
 swords on a similar provocation. But, Lord, do 
 you think I would report these things ? No, no ! 
 tale-bearers, as I said before, are just as bad as the 
 tale-makers. 
 
 Joseph S. Ah ! Mrs. Candour, if everybody 
 had your forbearance and good-nature ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. I confess, Mr. Surface, I cannot bear 
 to hear people attacked behind their backs ; and 
 when ugly circumstances come out against our 
 acquaintance, I own I always love to think the
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 29 
 
 best. By the by, I hope 'tis not true that your 
 brother is absolutely ruined ? 
 
 Joseph S. I am afraid his circumstances are 
 very bad indeed, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ah ! I heard so but you must tell 
 him to keep up his spirits ; everybody almost is in 
 the same way Lord Spindle, Sir Thomas Splint, 
 Captain Quinze, and Mr. Nickit all up, I hear, 
 within this week ; so if Charles is undone, he'll 
 find half his acquaintance ruined too, and that, you 
 know, is a consolation. 
 
 Joseph S. Doubtless, ma'am a very great one. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite. 
 
 \Exit SERVANT. 
 
 Lady Sneer. So, Maria, you see your lover 
 pursues you ; positively you shan't escape. 
 
 Enter CRABTREE and Sir BENJAMIN BACKBITE 
 
 Crabt. Lady Sneerwell, I kiss your hand 
 Mrs. Candour, I don't believe you are acquainted 
 with my nephew, Sir Benjamin Backbite? Egad ! 
 ma'am, he has a pretty wit, and is a pretty poet 
 too ; isn't he, Lady Sneerwell ? 
 
 Sir Benj. B. O fie, uncle ! 
 
 Crabt. Nay, egad it's true ; I back him at a 
 rebus or a charade against the best rhymer in the 
 kingdom. Has your ladyship heard the epigram 
 he wrote last week on Lady Frizzle's feather 
 catching fire? Do, Benjamin, repeat it, or the
 
 30 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 charade you made last night extempore at Mrs. 
 Drowzie's conversazione. Come now ; your first 
 is the name of a fish, your second a great naval 
 commander, and 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Uncle, now pr'ythee 
 
 Crabt. I'faith, ma'am, 'twould surprise you to 
 hear how ready he is at all these fine sort of 
 things. 
 
 Lady Sneer. I wonder, Sir Benjamin, you never 
 publish anything. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. To say truth, ma'am, 'tis very 
 vulgar to print ; and as my little productions are 
 mostly satires and lampoons on particular people, 
 I find they circulate more by giving copies in 
 confidence to the friends of the parties. How- 
 ever, I have some love elegies, which, when 
 favoured with this lady's smiles, I mean to give 
 the public. 
 
 Crabt. 'Fore heaven, ma'am, they'll immor- 
 talise you ! you will be handed down to posterity, 
 like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Yes, madam, I think you will 
 like them, when you shall see them on a beautiful 
 quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall 
 meander through a meadow of margin. 'Fore 
 Gad they will be the most elegant things of their 
 kind ! 
 
 Crabt. But, ladies, that's true have you heard 
 the news ? 
 
 Mrs. Can. What, sir, do you mean the report 
 of 
 
 Crabt. No, ma'am, that's not it Miss Nicely 
 is going to be married to her own footman.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 31 
 
 Mrs. Can. Impossible ! 
 
 Crabt. Ask Sir Benjamin. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. 'Tis very true, ma'am ; everything 
 is fixed, and the wedding liveries bespoke. 
 
 Crabt. Yes and they do say there were 
 pressing reasons for it. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Why, I have heard something of 
 this before. 
 
 Mrs. Can. It can't be and I wonder any one 
 should believe such a story, of so prudent a lady 
 as Miss Nicely. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. O Lud ! ma'am, that's the very 
 reason 'twas believed at once. She has always 
 been so cautious and so reserved, that every- 
 body was sure there was some reason for it at 
 bottom. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Why, to be sure, a tale of scandal 
 is as fatal to the credit of a prudent lady of her 
 stamp, as a fever is generally to those of the 
 strongest constitutions. But there is a sort of 
 puny sickly reputation, that is always ailing, yet 
 will outlive the robuster characters of a hundred 
 prudes. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. True, madam, there are valetudi- 
 narians in reputation as well as constitution ; who, 
 being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least 
 breath of air, and supply their want of stamina by 
 care and circumspection. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Well, but this may be all a mistake. 
 You know, Sir Benjamin, very trifling circum- 
 stances often give rise to the most injurious 
 tales. 
 
 Crabt. That they do, I'll be sworn, ma'am.
 
 32 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Did you ever hear how Miss Piper came to lose 
 her love and her character last summer at Tun- 
 bridge ? Sir Benjamin, you remember it ? 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Oh, to be sure ! the most whim- 
 sical circumstance. 
 
 Lady Sneer. How was it, pray ? 
 
 Crabt. Why, one evening, at Mrs. Ponto's 
 assembly, the conversation happened to turn on 
 the breeding Nova Scotia sheep in this country. 
 Says a young lady in company, " I have known 
 instances of it for Miss Letitia Piper, a first 
 cousin of mine, had a Nova Scotia sheep that 
 produced her twins." " What ! " cries the Lady 
 Dowager Dundizzy (who you know is as deaf as a 
 post), " has Miss Piper had twins ? "- This mistake, 
 as you may imagine, threw the whole company 
 into a fit of laughter. However, 'twas the next 
 morning everywhere reported, and in a few days 
 believed by the whole town, that Miss Letitia 
 Piper had actually been brought to bed of a fine 
 boy and a girl ; and in less than a week there 
 were some people who could name the father, 
 and the farm-house where the babies were put to 
 nurse. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Strange, indeed ! 
 
 Crabt. Matter of fact, I assure you. O Lud ! 
 Mr. Surface, pray is it true that your uncle, Sir 
 Oliver, is coming home? 
 
 Joseph S. Not that I know of, indeed, sir. 
 
 Crabt. He has been in the East Indies a long 
 time. You can scarcely remember him, I be- 
 lieve? Sad comfort whenever he returns, to 
 hear how your brother has gone on !
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 33 
 
 Joseph S. Charles has been imprudent, sir, 
 to be sure ; but I hope no busy people have 
 already prejudiced Sir Oliver against him. He 
 may reform. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. To be sure he may : for my part, 
 I never believed him to be so utterly void of 
 principle as people say ; and though he has lost 
 all his friends, I am told nobody is better spoken 
 of by the Jews. 
 
 Crabt. That's true, egad, nephew. If the 
 Old Jewry was a ward, I believe Charles would 
 be an alderman : no man more popular there, 
 'fore Gad ! I hear he pays as many annuities as 
 the Irish tontine ; and that whenever he is sick, 
 they have prayers for the recovery of his health 
 in all the synagogues. 
 
 Sir Eenj. B. Yet no man lives in greater 
 splendour. They tell me, when he entertains his 
 friends he will sit down to dinner with a dozen 
 of his own securities ; have a score of tradesmen 
 waiting in the antechamber, and an officer behind 
 
 D 
 
 every guest's chair. 
 
 Joseph S. This may be entertainment to you, 
 gentlemen, but you pay very little regard to the 
 feelings of a brother. 
 
 Maria. Their malice is intolerable. Lady 
 Sneerwell, I must wish you a good morning : 
 I'm not very well. [Exit MARIA. 
 
 Mrs. Can. O dear ! she changes colour very 
 much. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Do, Mrs. Candour, follow her : 
 she may want assistance. 
 
 Mrs. Can. That I will, with all my soul, 
 
 D-
 
 34 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 ma'am. Poor dear girl, who knows what her 
 situation may be! [Exit Mrs. CANDOUR. 
 
 Lady Sneer. 'Twas nothing but that she could 
 not bear to hear Charles reflected on, notwith- 
 standing their difference. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. The young lady's penchant is 
 obvious. 
 
 Crabt. But, Benjamin, you must not give up 
 the pursuit for that : follow her, and put her 
 into good humour. Repeat her some of your 
 own verses. Come, I'll assist you. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Mr. Surface, I did not mean to 
 hurt you ; but depend on't your brother is utterly 
 undone. 
 
 Crabt. O Lud, lay ! undone as ever man was. 
 Can't raise a guinea ! 
 
 Sir Benj. B. And everything sold, I'm told, 
 that was movable. 
 
 Crabt. I have seen one that was at his house.' 
 Not a thing left but some empty bottles that 
 were overlooked, and the family pictures, which 
 I believe are framed in the wainscots 
 
 Sir Benj. B. And I'm very sorry, also, to hear 
 some bad stories against him. [Going. 
 
 Crabt. Oh ! he has done many mean things, 
 that's certain. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. But, however, as he's your 
 brother [Going. 
 
 Crabt. We'll tell you all another opportunity. 
 [Exit CRABTREE and Sir BENJAMIN. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Ha ! ha ! 'tis very hard for them 
 to leave a subject they have not quite run 
 down.
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 35 
 
 Joseph S. And I believe the abuse was no more 
 acceptable to your ladyship than Maria. 
 
 Lady Sneer. I doubt her affections are further 
 engaged than we imagine. But the family are 
 to be here this evening, so you may as well dine 
 where you are, and we shall have an opportunity 
 of observing further ; in the meantime, I'll go 
 and plot mischief, and you shall study sentiment. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Sir PETER'S House 
 Enter Sir PETER 
 
 Sir Peter T. When an old bachelor marries 
 a young wife, what is he to expect ? 'Tis now 
 six months since Lady Teazle made me the 
 happiest of men and I have been the most 
 miserable dog ever since ! We tifted a little 
 going to church, and fairly quarrelled before 
 the bells had done ringing. I was more than 
 once nearly choked with gall during the honey- 
 moon, and had lost all comfort in life before my 
 friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose 
 with caution a girl bred wholly in the country, 
 who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, 
 nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race 
 ball. Yet now she plays her part in all the ex- 
 travagant fopperies of the fashion and the town, 
 with as ready a grace as if she had never seen 
 a bush or a grass-plot out of Grosvenor Square ! 
 I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and
 
 3 6 SHERIDAN'S PLAY ACT i 
 
 paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates 
 my fortune, and contradicts all my humours ; 
 yet, the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I 
 should never bear all this. However, I'll never 
 be weak enough to own it. 
 
 Enter ROWLEY 
 
 Rowley. Oh ! Sir Peter, your servant : how is 
 it with you, sir? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Very bad, Master Rowley, very 
 bad. I meet with nothing but crosses and vexa- 
 tions. 
 
 Rowley. What can have happened to trouble 
 you since yesterday ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. A good question to a married 
 man ! 
 
 Rowley. Nay, I'm sure your lady, Sir Peter, 
 can't be the cause of your uneasiness. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Why, has anybody told you she 
 was dead ? 
 
 Rowley. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, 
 notwithstanding your tempers don't exactly agree. 
 
 Sir Peter T. But the fault is entirely hers, 
 Master Rowley. I am, myself, the sweetest- 
 tempered man alive, and hate a teasing temper ; 
 and so I tell her a hundred times a day. 
 
 Rowley. Indeed ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay ; and what is very extra- 
 ordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the 
 wrong ! But Lady Sneerwell, and the set she 
 meets at her house, encourage the perverseness of 
 her disposition. Then, to complete my vexation,
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 37 
 
 Maria, my ward, whom I ought to have the power 
 over, is determined to turn rebel too, and absolutely 
 refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for 
 her husband ; meaning, I suppose, to bestow her- 
 self on his profligate brother. 
 
 Rowley. You know, Sir Peter, I have always 
 taken the liberty to differ with you on the subject 
 of these two young gentlemen. I only wish you 
 may not be deceived in your opinion of the elder. 
 For Charles, my life on't ! he will retrieve his errors 
 yet. Their worthy father, once my honoured 
 master, was, at his years, nearly as wild a spark ; 
 yet, when he died, he did not leave a more bene- 
 volent heart to lament his loss. 
 
 Sir Peter T. You are wrong, Master Rowley. 
 On their father's death, you know, I acted as a 
 kind of guardian to them both, till their uncle Sir 
 Oliver's liberality gave them an early independence : 
 of course, no person could have more opportunities 
 of judging of their hearts, and I was never mis- 
 taken in my life. Joseph is indeed a model for 
 the young men of the age. He is a man of 
 sentiment, and acts up to the sentiments he 
 professes ; but for the other, take my word for't, 
 if he had any grain of virtue by descent, he has 
 dissipated it with the rest of his inheritance. Ah ! 
 my old friend, Sir Oliver, will be deeply mortified 
 when he finds how part of his bounty has been 
 misapplied. 
 
 Rowley. I am sorry to find you so violent 
 against the young man, because this may be the 
 most critical period of his fortune. I came hither 
 with news that will surprise vou.
 
 3 8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Sir Peter T. What ! let me hear. 
 
 Rowley. Sir Oliver is arrived, and at this 
 moment in town. 
 
 Sir Peter T. How ! you astonish me ! I 
 thought you did not expect him this month. 
 
 Rowley. I did not ; but his passage has been 
 remarkably quick. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Egad, I shall rejoice to see my 
 old friend. 'Tis fifteen years since we met. We 
 have had many a day together: but does he 
 still enjoin us not to inform his nephews of his 
 arrival ? 
 
 Rowley. Most strictly. He means, before it is 
 known, to make some trial of their dispositions. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! there needs no art to dis- 
 cover their merits he shall have his way : but, 
 pray, does he know I am married? 
 
 Rowley. Yes, and will soon wish you joy. 
 
 Sir Peter T. What, as we drink health to a 
 friend in a consumption. Ah ! Oliver will laugh 
 at me. We used to rail at matrimony together, 
 and he has been steady to his text. Well, he must 
 be soon at my house, though ! I'll instantly give 
 orders for his reception. But, Master Rowley, 
 don't drop a word that Lady Teazle and I ever 
 disagree. 
 
 Rowley. By no means. 
 
 Sir Peter T. For I should never be able to 
 stand Noll's jokes ; so I'd have him think, Lord 
 forgive me ! that we are a very happy couple. 
 
 Rowley. I understand you : but then you 
 must be very careful not to differ while he is in the 
 house with you.
 
 sc. n THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 39 
 
 Sir Peter T. Egad, and so we must and that's 
 impossible. Ah ! Master Rowley, when an old 
 bachelor marries a young wife, he deserves no 
 the crime carries its punishment along with it. 
 
 \_Exeunt.
 
 ACT II 
 
 SCENE I 
 Enter Sir PETER and Lady TEAZLE 
 
 Sir Peter T. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll 
 not bear it ! 
 
 Lady T. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear 
 it or not, as you please ; but I ought to have 
 my own way in everything, and what's more, 
 I will, too. What ! though I was educated in 
 the country, I know very well that women of 
 fashion in London are accountable to nobody 
 after they are married. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Very well, ma'am, very well ; so 
 a husband is to have no influence, no authority? 
 
 Lady T. Authority ! No, to be sure : if you 
 wanted authority over me, you should have 
 adopted me, and not married me : I am sure 
 you were old enough. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Old enough ! ay there it is. 
 Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be 
 made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined 
 by your extravagance.
 
 sc. I THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 41 
 
 Lady T. My extravagance ! I'm sure I'm 
 not more extravagant than a woman of fashion 
 ought to be. 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, no, madam, you shall throw 
 away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. 
 'Slife! to spend as much to furnish your dress- 
 ing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice 
 to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give 
 a fete champetre at Christmas. 
 
 Lady T. And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because 
 flowers are dear in cold weather ? You should 
 find fault with the climate, and not with me. 
 For my part, I'm sure, I wish it was spring all the 
 year round, and that roses grew under our feet ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oons ! madam if you had been 
 born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking 
 thus ; but you forget what your situation was 
 when I married you. 
 
 Lady T. No, no, I don't ; 'twas a very dis- 
 agreeable one, or I should never have married you. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, madam, you were then 
 in somewhat a humbler style : the daughter of 
 a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, 
 when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in 
 a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of 
 keys at your side ; your hair combed smooth 
 over a roll, and your apartment hung round 
 with fruits in worsted, of your own working. 
 
 Lady T. O, yes! I remember it very well, 
 and a curious life I led. My daily occupation 
 to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, 
 make extracts from the family receipt-book, 
 and comb my aunt Deborah's lapdog.
 
 4 2 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed. 
 
 Lady T. And then, you know, my evening 
 amusements ! To draw patterns for ruffles, which 
 I had not materials to make up ; to play Pope 
 Joan with the curate ; to read a sermon to my 
 aunt ; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to 
 strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I am glad you have so good 
 a memory. Yes, madam, these were the re- 
 creations I took you from ; but now you must 
 have your coach vis-a-vis and three powdered 
 footmen before your chair ; and, in the summer, 
 a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington 
 Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you 
 were content to ride double, behind the butler, 
 on a dock'd coach-horse. 
 
 Lady T. No I swear I never did that : I 
 deny the butler and the coach-horse. 
 
 Sir Peter T. This, madam, was your situa- 
 tion ; and what have I done for you ? I have 
 made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of 
 rank ; in short, I have made you my wife. 
 
 Lady T. Well, then, and there is but one 
 thing more you can make me to add to the 
 obligation, and that is 
 
 Sir Peter T. My widow, I suppose ? 
 
 Lady T. Hem ! hem ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. I thank you, madam but don't 
 flatter yourself; for though your ill conduct may 
 disturb my peace, it shall never break my heart, 
 I promise you : however, I am equally obliged 
 to you for the hint. 
 
 Lady T. Then why will you endeavour to
 
 SC. I THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 43 
 
 make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart 
 me in every little elegant expense ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. 'Slife, madam, I say, had you 
 any of these little elegant expenses when you 
 married me ? 
 
 Lady T. Lud, Sir Peter ! would you have me 
 be out of the fashion? 
 
 Sir Peter T. The fashion, indeed ! what had 
 you to do with the fashion before you married 
 me ? 
 
 Lady T. For my part, I should think you 
 would like to have your wife thought a woman 
 of taste. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay there again taste Zounds! 
 madam, you had no taste when you married 
 me! 
 
 Lady T. That's very true indeed, Sir Peter ; 
 and after having married you, I should never 
 pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, 
 Sir Peter, if we have finished our daily jangle, 
 I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady 
 Sneerwell's. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, there's another precious 
 circumstance a charming set of acquaintance 
 you have made there. 
 
 Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people 
 of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious 
 of reputation. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, egad, they are tenacious of 
 reputation with a vengeance ; for they don't 
 choose anybody should have a character but 
 themselves ! Such a crew ! Ah ! many a wretch 
 has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief
 
 44 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT M 
 
 than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of 
 scandal, and clippers of reputation. 
 
 Lady T. What ! would you restrain the free- 
 dom of speech? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! they have made you just 
 as bad as any one of the society. 
 
 Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part 
 with a tolerable grace. But I vow I bear no 
 malice against the people I abuse. When I say 
 an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good 
 humour ; and I take it for granted, they deal 
 exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir 
 Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady 
 Sneerwell's too. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, well, I'll call in just to 
 look after my own character. 
 
 Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste 
 after me, or you'll be too late. So, good-bye to 
 ye. [Exit Lady TEAZLE. 
 
 Sir Peter T. So I have gained much by my 
 intended expostulation : yet, with what a charm- 
 ing air she contradicts everything I say, and 
 how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my 
 authority ! Well, though I can't make her love 
 me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with 
 her ; and I think she never appears to such 
 advantage as when she is doing everything in 
 her power to plague me. [Exit.
 
 Lady T. Then indeed you must mate haste after me, or you'll he too late. 
 So, good-bye to ye.
 
 sc. a THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 47 
 
 SCENE II. At Lady SNEERWELL'S 
 
 Enter Lady SNEERWELL, Mrs. CANDOUR, CRAB- 
 TREE, Sir BENJAMIN BACKBITE, and JOSEPH 
 SURFACE. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Nay, positively, we will hear it. 
 
 'Joseph S. Yes, yes, the epigram, by all means. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. O plague on't, uncle ! 'tis mere 
 nonsense. 
 
 Crabt. No, no ; 'fore Gad, very clever for an 
 extempore ! 
 
 Sir Benj. B. But, ladies, you should be ac- 
 quainted with the circumstance. You must 
 know, that one day last week, as Lady Betty 
 Curricle was taking the dust in Hyde Park, in 
 a sort of duodecimo phaeton, she desired me to 
 write some verses on her ponies ; upon which I 
 took out my pocket-book, and in one moment 
 produced the following : 
 
 Sure never were seen two such beautiful ponies ; 
 Other horses are clowns, but these macaronics : 
 To give them this title I'm sure can't be wrong, 
 Their legs are so slim, and their tails are so long. 
 
 Crabt. There, ladies, done in the smack of a 
 whip, and on horseback too. 
 
 Joseph S. A very Phoebus, mounted indeed, 
 Sir Benjamin. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. O dear, sir! trifles trifles.
 
 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Enter Lady TEAZLE and MARIA 
 
 Mrs. Can. I must have a copy. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Lady Teazle, I hope we shall 
 see Sir Peter ? 
 
 Lady T. I believe he'll wait on your ladyship 
 presently. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Maria, my love, you look grave. 
 Come, you shall sit down to piquet with Mr. 
 Surface. 
 
 Maria. I take very little pleasure in cards 
 however, I'll do as you please. 
 
 Lady T. I am surprised Mr. Surface should 
 sit down with her ; I thought he would have 
 embraced this opportunity of speaking to me, 
 before Sir Peter came. [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Now, I'll die, but you are so 
 scandalous, I'll forswear your society. 
 
 Lady T. What's the matter, Mrs. Candour? 
 
 Mrs. Can. They'll not allow our friend Miss 
 Vermillion to be handsome. 
 
 Lady Sneer. O surely she is a pretty woman. 
 
 Crabt. I am very glad you think so, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Can. She has a charming fresh colour. 
 
 Lady T. Yes, when it is fresh put on. 
 
 Mrs. Can. O fie ! I'll swear her colour is 
 natural : I have seen it come and go. 
 
 Lady T. I dare swear you have, ma'am : it 
 goes off at night, and comes again in the morning. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. True, ma'am, it not only comes 
 and goes, but, what's more egad, her maid can 
 fetch and carry it !
 
 Cards at Lady
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 51 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ha ! ha ! ha ! how I hate to hear 
 you talk so ! But surely now, her sister is, or 
 was, very handsome. 
 
 Crabt. Who ? Mrs. Evergreen ? O Lord ! she's 
 six and fifty if she's an hour ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. Now positively you wrong her ; 
 fifty-two or fifty-three is the utmost and I don't 
 think she looks more. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Ah ! there's no judging by her 
 looks, unless one could see her face. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Well, well, if Mrs. Evergreen does 
 take some pains to repair the ravages of time, you 
 must allow she effects it with great ingenuity ; 
 and surely that's better than the careless manner in 
 which the widow Ochre chalks her wrinkles. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Nay now, Lady Sneer well, you 
 are severe upon the widow. Come, come, 'tis not 
 that she paints so ill but when she has finished 
 her face, she joins it so badly to her neck, that she 
 looks like a mended statue, in which the con- 
 noisseur sees at once that the head's modern, 
 though the trunk's antique. 
 
 Crabt. Ha ! ha ! ha ! well said, nephew ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ha ! ha ! ha ! well, you make me 
 laugh ; but I vow I hate you for it. What do 
 you think of Miss Simper? 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Why, she has very pretty teeth. 
 
 Lady T. Yes, and on that account, when she is 
 neither speaking nor laughing (which very seldom 
 happens), she never absolutely shuts her mouth, 
 but leaves it always on a jar, as it were, thus. 
 
 [Shows her teeth. 
 
 Mrs. Can. How can you be so ill-natured ?
 
 5 z SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Lady T. Nay, I allow even that's better than 
 the pains Mrs. Prim takes to conceal her losses in 
 front. She draws her mouth till it positively re- 
 sembles the aperture of a poor's box, and all her 
 words appear to slide out edgewise as it were, 
 thus How do you do, madam? Yes, madam. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Very well, Lady Teazle ; I see 
 you can be a little severe. 
 
 Lady T. In defence of a friend it is but justice. 
 But here comes Sir Peter to spoil our pleasantry. 
 
 Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ladies, your most obedient. 
 Mercy on me ! here is the whole set ! a character 
 dead at every word, I suppose. \_Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Can. I am rejoiced you are come, Sir 
 Peter. They have been so censorious and Lady 
 Teazle as bad as any one. 
 
 Sir Peter T. It must be very distressing to you, 
 Mrs. Candour, I dare swear. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Oh, they will allow good qualities to 
 nobody ; not even good-nature to our friend Mrs. 
 Pursy. 
 
 Lady T. What, the fat dowager who was at 
 Mrs. Quadrille's last night ? 
 
 Mrs. Can. Nay, her bulk is her misfortune ; 
 and when she takes such pains to get rid of it, you 
 ought not to reflect on her. 
 
 Lady Sneer. That's very true, indeed. 
 Lady T. Yes, I know she almost Jives on acids 
 and small whey ; laces herself by pulleys ; and 
 often in the hottest noon in summer, you may see
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 53 
 
 her on a little squat pony, with her hair plaited up 
 behind like a drummer's, and puffing round the 
 Ring on a full trot. 
 
 Mrs. Can. I thank you, Lady Teazle, for de- 
 fending her. 
 
 D 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, a good defence, truly ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. Truly, Lady Teazle is as censorious 
 as Miss Sallow. 
 
 Crabt. Yes, and she is a curious being to pre- 
 tend to be censorious an awkward gawky, without 
 any one good point under heaven. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Positively you shall not be so very 
 severe. Miss Sallow is a near relation of mine by 
 marriage, and as for her person, great allowance is 
 to be made ; for, let me tell you, a woman labours 
 under many disadvantages who tries to pass for a 
 girl at six and thirty. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Though, surely, she is handsome 
 still and for the weakness in her eyes, considering 
 how much she reads by candlelight, it is not to be 
 wondered at. 
 
 Mrs. Can. True, and then as to her manner ; 
 upon my word I think it is particularly graceful, 
 considering she never had the least education : for 
 you know her mother was a Welsh milliner, and 
 her father a sugar-baker at Bristol. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Ah ! you are both of you too 
 good-natured ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, damned good - natured ! 
 This their own relation ! mercy on me ! \_Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Can. For my part, I own I cannot bear to 
 hear a friend ill-spoken of. 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, to be sure !
 
 54 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Oh ! you are of a moral turn. 
 Mrs. Candour and I can sit for an hour and hear 
 Lady Stucco talk sentiment. 
 
 Lady T. Nay, I vow Lady Stucco is very well 
 with the dessert after dinner ; for she's just like the 
 French fruit one cracks for mottoes made up of 
 paint and proverb. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Well, I never will join in ridiculing 
 a friend ; and so I constantly tell my cousin Ogle, 
 and you all know what pretensions she has to be 
 critical on beauty. 
 
 Crabt. Oh, to be sure ! she has herself the oddest 
 countenance that ever was seen ; 'tis a collection 
 of features from all the different countries of the 
 globe. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. So she has, indeed an Irish 
 front 
 
 Crabt. Caledonian locks 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Dutch nose 
 
 Crabt. Austrian lips 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Complexion of a Spaniard 
 
 Crabt. And teeth a la Chinois 
 
 Sir Benj. B. In short, her face resembles a table 
 d'hote at Spa where no two guests are of a nation 
 
 Crabt. Or a congress at the close of a general 
 war wherein all the members, even to her eyes, 
 appear to have a different interest, and her nose 
 and chin are the only parties likely to join issue. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Mercy on my life ! a person 
 they dine with twice a week. \Aside. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Go, go ; you are a couple of 
 provoking toads.
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 55 
 
 Mrs. Can. Nay, but I vow you shall not 
 carry the laugh off so for give me leave to say, 
 that Mrs. Ogle 
 
 Sir Peter T. Madam, madam, I beg your 
 pardon there's no stopping these good gentle- 
 men's tongues. But when I tell you, Mrs. 
 Candour, that the lady they are abusing is a 
 particular friend of mine, I hope you'll not take 
 her part. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well said, Sir 
 Peter ! but you are a cruel creature, too phleg- 
 matic yourself for a jest, and too peevish to allow 
 wit in others. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! madam, true wit is more 
 nearly allied to good-nature than your ladyship is 
 aware of. 
 
 Lady T. True, Sir Peter : I believe they are 
 so near akin that they can never be united. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Or rather, madam, suppose them 
 to be man and wife, because one seldom sees them 
 together. 
 
 Lady T. But Sir Peter is such an enemy to 
 scandal, I believe he would have it put down by 
 parliament. 
 
 Sir Peter T. 'Fore heaven, madam, if they 
 were to consider the sporting with reputation of 
 as much importance as poaching on manors, and 
 pass an act for the preservation of fame, I believe 
 there are many would thank them for the bill. 
 
 Lady Sneer. O Lud ! Sir Peter ; would you 
 deprive us of our privileges ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, madam ; and then no person 
 should be permitted to kill characters and run
 
 S 6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 down reputations, but qualified old maids and dis- 
 appointed widows. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Go, you monster ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. But, surely, you would not be quite 
 so severe on those who only report what they 
 hear ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, madam, I would have law 
 merchant for them too ; and in all cases of slander 
 currency, whenever the drawer of the lie was not 
 to be found, the injured parties should have a 
 right to come on any of the indorsers. 
 
 Crabt. Well, for my part, I believe there 
 never was a scandalous tale without some founda- 
 tion. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh, nine out of ten of the 
 malicious inventions are founded on some ridi- 
 culous misrepresentation ! 
 
 Lady Sneer. Come, ladies, shall we sit down to 
 cards in the next room ? 
 
 Enter a SERVANT, who whispers Sir PETER 
 
 Sir Peter T. I'll be with them directly. I'll 
 get away unperceived. [Apart . 
 
 Lady Sneer. Sir Peter, you are not going to 
 leave us? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Your ladyship must excuse me ; 
 I'm called away by particular business. But I 
 leave my character behind me. \_Exit Sir PETER. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Well certainly, Lady Teazle, 
 that lord of yours is a strange being : I could tell 
 you some stories of him would make you laugh 
 heartily if he were not your husband.
 
 
 $een-of-Swcrds Minuet at Lady
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 59 
 
 Lady T. Oh, pray don't mind that ; come, do 
 let's hear them. 
 
 [Joins the rest of the company going 
 into the next room. 
 
 Joseph S. Maria, I see you have no satisfaction 
 in this society. 
 
 Maria. How is it possible I should ? If to 
 raise malicious smiles at the infirmities or mis- 
 fortunes of those who have never injured us be 
 the province of wit or humour, Heaven grant 
 me a double portion of dulness ! 
 
 Joseph S. Yet they appear more ill-natured 
 than they are, they have no malice at heart. 
 
 Maria. Then is their conduct still more con- 
 temptible ; for, in my opinion, nothing could 
 excuse the interference of their tongues, but a 
 natural and uncontrollable bitterness of mind. 
 
 Joseph S. Undoubtedly, madam ; and it has 
 always been a sentiment of mine, that to pro- 
 pagate a malicious truth wantonly is more des- 
 picable than to falsify from revenge. But can 
 you, Maria, feel thus for others, and be unkind to 
 me alone ? Is hope to be denied the tenderest 
 passion ? 
 
 Maria. Why will you distress me by renewing 
 the subject ? 
 
 Joseph S. Ah, Maria ! you would not treat me 
 thus, and oppose your guardian Sir Peter's will, 
 but that I see that profligate Charles is still a 
 favoured rival. 
 
 Maria. Ungenerously urged ! But whatever 
 my sentiments are for that unfortunate young man, 
 be assured I shall not feel more bound to give him
 
 60 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT 11 
 
 up because his distresses have lost him the regard 
 even of a brother. 
 
 Joseph S. Nay, but, Maria, do not leave me 
 
 with a frown : by all that's honest, I swear 
 
 Gad's life, here's Lady Teazle ! [Aside. ~\ - 
 You must not no, you shall not for, though I 
 have the greatest regard for Lady Teazle 
 
 Maria. Lady Teazle ! 
 
 Joseph S. Yet were Sir Peter to suspect 
 
 Enter Lady TEAZLE, and comes forward 
 
 Lady T. What is this, pray ? Do you take 
 her for me ? Child, you are wanted in the next 
 room. [Exit MARIA.] What is all this, pray? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, the most unlucky circumstance in 
 nature ! Maria has somehow suspected the tender 
 concern I have for your happiness, and threatened 
 to acquaint Sir Peter with her suspicions, and I 
 was just endeavouring to reason with her when 
 you came in. 
 
 Lady T. Indeed ! but you seemed to adopt a 
 very tender mode of reasoning do you usually 
 argue on your knees ? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, she's a child, and I thought a 
 
 little bombast But, Lady Teazle, when are 
 
 you to give me your judgment on my library, as 
 you promised ? 
 
 Lady T. No, no ; I begin to think it would be 
 imprudent, and you know I admit you as a lover 
 no farther than fashion sanctions. 
 
 Joseph S. True a mere platonic cicisbeo 
 what every wife is entitled to.
 
 Joseph. By all that's honest, I swear.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 63 
 
 Lady T. Certainly, one must not be out of the 
 fashion. However, I have so much of my country 
 prejudices left, that, though Sir Peter's ill-humour 
 may vex me ever so, it never shall provoke me 
 
 Joseph S. The only revenge in your power. 
 Well I applaud your moderation. 
 
 Lady T. Go you are an insinuating wretch. 
 - But we shall be missed let us join the 
 company. 
 
 Joseph S. But we had best not return together. 
 
 Lady T. Well don't stay ; for Maria shan't 
 come to hear any more of your reasoning, I 
 promise you. [Exit Lady TEAZLE. 
 
 Joseph S. A curious dilemma my politics have 
 run me into ! I wanted, at first, only to ingratiate 
 myself with Lady Teazle, that she might not be 
 my enemy with Maria ; and I have, I don't know 
 how, become her serious lover. Sincerely I begin 
 to wish I had never made such a point of gaining 
 so very good a character, for it has led me into so 
 many cursed rogueries that I doubt I shall be ex- 
 posed at last. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. Sir PETER TEAZLE'S 
 
 Enter ROWLEY and Sir OLIVER SURFACE 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! So my old friend 
 
 is married, hey ? a young wife out of the country. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! that he should have stood bluff to 
 
 old bachelor so long, and sink into a husband at 
 
 last.
 
 64 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Rowley. But you must not rally him on the 
 subject, Sir Oliver : 'tis a tender point, I assure 
 you, though he has been married only seven 
 months. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Then he has been just half a 
 year on the stool of repentance ! Poor Peter ! 
 
 But you say he has entirely given up Charles, 
 
 never sees him, hey ? 
 
 Rowley. His prejudice against him is astonish- 
 ing, and I am sure, greatly increased by a jealousy 
 of him with Lady Teazle, which he has indus- 
 triously been led into by a scandalous society in 
 the neighbourhood, who have contributed not a 
 little to Charles's ill name. Whereas, the truth 
 is, I believe, if the lady is partial to either of them, 
 his brother is the favourite. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ay, I know there are a set of 
 malicious, prating, prudent gossips, both male and 
 female, who murder characters to kill time ; and 
 will rob a young fellow of his good name, before 
 he has years to know the value of it. But I am 
 not to be prejudiced against my nephew by such, I 
 promise you. No, no, if Charles has done 
 nothing false or mean, I shall compound for his 
 extravagance. 
 
 Rowley. Then, my life on't, you will reclaim 
 
 him. Ah, sir ! it gives me new life to find that 
 
 your heart is not turned against him ; and that the 
 son of my good old master has one friend, how- 
 ever, left. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What, shall I forget, Master 
 Rowley, when I was at his years myself? Egad, 
 my brother and I were neither of us very prudent
 
 Sir Peter. Hah ! Sir O/i-ver my old friend ! Welcome to England a thousand 
 times !
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 67 
 
 youths ; and yet, I believe, you have not seen 
 many better men than your old master was. 
 
 Rowley. Sir, 'tis this reflection gives me as- 
 surance that Charles may yet be a credit to his 
 family. But here comes Sir Peter. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Egad, so he does. Mercy on 
 me ! he's greatly altered and seems to have 
 a settled married look ! One may read husband 
 in his face at this distance ! 
 
 Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hah ! Sir Oliver my old friend ! 
 Welcome to England a thousand times ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Thank you thank you, Sir 
 Peter ! and i'faith I am glad to find you well, 
 believe me. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh ! 'tis a long time since we 
 met fifteen years, I doubt, Sir Oliver, and many 
 a cross accident in the time. 
 
 Sir Oliver S, Ay, I have had my share. But, 
 what ! I find you are married, hey ? Well, well- 
 it can't be helped and so I wish you joy with 
 all my heart. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Thank you, thank you, Sir Oliver. 
 Yes, I have entered into the happy state ; but 
 we'll not talk of that now. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. True, true, Sir Peter : old friends 
 should not begin on grievances at first meeting 
 no, no, no. 
 
 Rowley. Take care, pray, sir. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well so one of my nephews is 
 a wild fellow, hey ?
 
 68 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT u 
 
 Sir Peter T. Wild ! Ah ! my old friend, I 
 grieve for your disappointment there ; he's a lost 
 young man, indeed. However, his brother will 
 make you amends ; Joseph is, indeed, what a youth 
 should be. Everybody in the world speaks well 
 of him. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I am sorry to hear it ; he has too 
 good a character to be an honest fellow. Every- 
 body speaks well of him ! Pshaw ! then he has 
 bowed as low to knaves and fools as to the honest 
 dignity of genius and virtue. 
 
 Sir Peter T. What, Sir Oliver ! do you blame 
 him for not making enemies ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, if he has merit enough to 
 deserve them. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, well you'll be convinced 
 when you know him. 'Tis edification to hear him 
 converse ; he professes the noblest sentiments. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh ! plague of his sentiments ! 
 If he salutes me with a scrap of morality in his 
 mouth, I shall be sick directly. But, however, 
 don't mistake me, Sir Peter ; I don't mean to 
 defend Charles's errors : but before I form my 
 judgment of either of them, I intend to make a 
 trial of their hearts ; and my friend Rowley and I 
 have planned something for the purpose. 
 
 Rowley. And Sir Peter shall own for once he 
 has been mistaken. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh ! my life on Joseph's honour. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well come, give us a bottle of 
 good wine, and we'll drink the lads' health, and 
 tell you our scheme. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Allons then !
 
 sc. HI THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 69 
 
 Sir Oliver S. And don't, Sir Peter, be so severe 
 against your old friend's son. Odds my life ! I 
 am not sorry that he has run out of the course a 
 little : for my part, I hate to see prudence clinging 
 to the green succours of youth ; 'tis like ivy round 
 a sapling, and spoils the growth of the tree. 
 
 \Exeunt.
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. Sir PETER TEAZLE'S 
 
 Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE, Sir OLIVER SURFACE, 
 and ROWLEY 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, then, we will see this fellow 
 first, and have our wine afterwards : but how is 
 this, Master Rowley? I don't see the jet of your 
 scheme. 
 
 Rowley. Why, sir, this Mr. Stanley, whom I was 
 speaking of, is nearly related to them by their 
 mother. He was a merchant in Dublin, but has 
 been ruined by a series of undeserved misfortunes. 
 He has applied, by letter, to Mr. Surface and 
 Charles : from the former he has received nothing 
 but evasive promises of future service, while 
 Charles has done all that his extravagance has 
 left him power .to do ; and he is, at this time, 
 endeavouring to raise a sum of money, part of 
 which, in the midst of his own distresses, I know 
 he intends for the service of poor Stanley. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ah ! he is my brother's son.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 71 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, but how is Sir Oliver 
 personally to 
 
 Rowley. Why, sir, I will inform Charles and 
 his brother, that Stanley has obtained permission 
 to apply personally to his friends, and as they 
 have neither of them ever seen him, let Sir 
 Oliver assume his character, and he will have 
 a fair opportunity of judging, at least, of the 
 benevolence of their dispositions ; and believe 
 me, sir, you will find in the youngest brother, 
 one, who, in the midst of folly and dissipation, 
 has still, as our immortal bard expresses it, 
 " a heart to pity, and a hand, open as day, for 
 melting charity." 
 
 Sir Peter T. Pshaw ! What signifies his 
 having an open hand or purse either, when he 
 has nothing left to give? Well, well make 
 the trial, if you please. But where is the fellow 
 whom you brought for Sir Oliver to examine, 
 relative to Charles's affairs? 
 
 Rowley. Below, waiting his commands, and 
 no one can give him better intelligence. This, 
 Sir Oliver, is a friendly Jew, who, to do him 
 justice, has done everything in his power to 
 bring your nephew to a proper sense of his 
 extravagance. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Pray let us have him in. 
 
 Rowley. Desire Mr. Moses to walk upstairs. 
 
 [Apart to SERVANT. 
 
 Sir Peter T. But, pray, why should you 
 suppose he will speak the truth ? 
 
 Rowley. Oh ! I have convinced him that he 
 has no chance of recovering certain sums ad-
 
 7* SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 vanced to Charles, but through the bounty of 
 Sir Oliver, who he knows is arrived ; so that you 
 may depend on his fidelity to his own interests : 
 I have also another evidence in my power, one 
 Snake, whom I have detected in a matter little 
 short of forgery, and shall speedily produce him 
 to remove some of your prejudices. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I have heard too much on that 
 subject. 
 
 Rowley. Here comes the honest Israelite. 
 
 Enter MOSES 
 
 This is Sir Oliver. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sir, I understand you have 
 lately had great dealings with my nephew, Charles. 
 
 Moses. Yes, Sir Oliver, I have done all I 
 could for him ; but he was ruined before he 
 came to me for assistance. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. That was unlucky, truly ; for you 
 have had no opportunity of showing your talents. 
 
 Moses. None at all ; I hadn't the pleasure of 
 knowing his distresses till he was some thousands 
 worse than nothing. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Unfortunate, indeed ! But I 
 suppose you have done all in your power for him, 
 honest Moses? 
 
 Moses. Yes, he knows that ; this very evening 
 I was to have brought him a gentleman from the 
 city, who does not know him, and will, I believe, 
 advance him some money. 
 
 Sir Peter T. What, one Charles has never 
 had money from before ?
 
 sc. I THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 73 
 
 Moses. Yes, Mr. Premium, of Crutched 
 Friars, formerly a broker. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Egad, Sir Oliver, a thought 
 
 strikes me ! Charles, you say, does not know 
 
 Mr. Premium? 
 
 Moses. Not at all. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Now then, Sir Oliver, you may 
 have a better opportunity of satisfying yourself 
 than by an old romancing tale of a poor relation : 
 go with my friend Moses, and represent Premium, 
 and then, I'll answer for it, you'll see your nephew 
 in all his glory. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Egad, I like this idea better 
 than the other, and I may visit Joseph afterwards 
 as old Stanley. 
 
 Sir Peter T. True so you may. 
 
 Rowley. Well, this is taking Charles rather at 
 a disadvantage, to be sure ; however, Moses, 
 you understand Sir Peter, and will be faithful ? 
 
 Moses. You may depend upon me ; this is 
 near the time I was to have gone. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I'll accompany you as soon as 
 you please, Moses But hold ! I have forgot 
 
 one thing how the plague shall I be able to pass 
 for a Jew ? 
 
 Moses. There's no need the principal is 
 Christian. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Is he ? I'm very sorry to hear 
 it. But then again, ain't I rather too smartly 
 dressed to look like a money-lender ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Not at all ; 'twould not be out 
 of character, if you went . in your own carriage 
 would it, Moses ?
 
 74 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Moses. Not in the least. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well but how must I talk ? 
 there's certainly some cant of usury and mode 
 of treating that I ought to know. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh ! there's not much to learn. 
 The great point, as I take it, is to be exorbitant 
 enough in your demands hey, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. Yes, that's a very great point. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I'll answer for't I'll not be 
 wanting in that. I'll ask him 8 or 10 per cent 
 on the loan, at least. 
 
 Moses. If you ask him no more than that, 
 you'll be discovered immediately. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Hey ! what the plague ! how 
 much then ? 
 
 Moses. That depends upon the circumstances. 
 If he appears not very anxious for the supply, 
 you should require only 40 or 50 per cent ; 
 but if you find him in great distress, and want 
 the moneys very bad, you may ask double. 
 
 Sir Peter T. A good honest trade you're 
 learning, Sir Oliver ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Truly, I think so and not un- 
 profitable. 
 
 Moses. Then, you know, you haven't the 
 moneys yourself, but are forced to borrow them 
 for him of an old friend. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh ! I borrow it of a friend, 
 do I? 
 
 Moses. And your friend is an unconscionable 
 dog : but you can't help that. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. My. friend an unconscionable 
 dog?
 
 Moses. Tour friend is an unconscionable dog : but you can't help that.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 77 
 
 Moses. Yes, and he himself has not the moneys 
 by him, but is forced to sell stock at a great loss. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. He is forced to sell stock at a 
 great Joss, is he? Well, that's very kind of him. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I'faith, Sir Oliver Mr. Premium, 
 I mean, you'll soon be master of the trade. But, 
 Moses ! would not you have him run out a little 
 against the Annuity Bill ? That would be in 
 character, I should think. 
 
 Moses. Very much. 
 
 Rowley. And lament that a young man now 
 must be at years of discretion before he is suffered 
 to ruin himself ? 
 
 Moses. Ay, great pity ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. And abuse the public for allow- 
 ing merit to an act, whose only object is to 
 snatch misfortune and imprudence from the 
 rapacious gripe of usury, and give the minor a 
 chance of inheriting his estate without being 
 undone by coming into possession. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. So so Moses shall give me 
 further instructions as we go together. 
 
 Sir Peter T. You will not have much time, 
 for your nephew lives hard by. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh ! never fear : my tutor appears 
 so able, that though Charles lived in the next 
 street, it must be my own fault if I am not a 
 complete rogue before I turn the corner. 
 
 [Exeunt Sir OLIVER SURFACE and MOSES. 
 
 Sir Peter T. So, now, I think Sir Oliver will 
 be convinced : you are partial, Rowley, and 
 would have prepared Charles for the other plot. 
 
 Rowley. No, upon my word, Sir Peter.
 
 78 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, go bring me this Snake, 
 and I'll hear what he has to say presently. I 
 see Maria, and want to speak with her. [Exit 
 ROWLEY.] I should be glad to be convinced 
 my suspicions of Lady Teazle and Charles were 
 unjust. I have never yet opened my mind on 
 this subject to my friend Joseph I am deter- 
 mined I will do it he will give me his opinion 
 sincerely. 
 
 Enter MARIA 
 
 So, child has Mr. Surface returned with you ? 
 
 Maria. No, sir ; he was engaged. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, Maria, do you not reflect, 
 the more you converse with that amiable young 
 man, what return his partiality for you deserves ? 
 
 Maria. Indeed, Sir Peter, your frequent im- 
 portunity on this subject distresses me extremely 
 you compel me to declare, that I know no 
 man who has ever paid me a particular attention, 
 whom I would not prefer to Mr. Surface. 
 
 Sir Peter T. So here's perverseness ! No, 
 no, Maria, 'tis Charles only whom you would 
 prefer. 'Tis evident his vices and follies have 
 won your heart. 
 
 Maria. This is unkind, sir. You know I have 
 obeyed you in neither seeing nor corresponding 
 with him : I have heard enough to convince me 
 that he is unworthy my regard. Yet I cannot 
 think it culpable, if, while my understanding 
 severely condemns his vices, my heart suggests 
 some pity for his distresses.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 79 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, well, pity him as much as 
 you please ; but give your heart and hand to a 
 worthier object. 
 
 Maria. Never to his brother ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Go perverse and obstinate ! but 
 take care, madam ; you have never yet known 
 what the authority of a guardian is : don't compel 
 me to inform you of it. 
 
 Maria. I can only say, you shall not have 
 just reason. 'Tis true, by my father's will, I 
 am for a short period bound to regard you as 
 his substitute ; but must cease to think you so, 
 when you would compel me to be miserable. 
 
 [Exit MARIA. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Was ever man so crossed as I 
 am ? everything conspiring to fret me ! I had 
 not been involved in matrimony a fortnight, 
 before her father, a hale and hearty man, died, 
 on purpose, I believe, for the pleasure of plaguing 
 me with the care of his daughter. But here 
 comes my helpmate ! She appears in great good 
 humour. How happy I should be if I could 
 tease her into loving me, though but a little ! 
 
 Enter Lady TEAZLE 
 
 Lady T. Lud ! Sir Peter, I hope you haven't 
 been quarrelling with Maria ? It is not using 
 me well to be ill-humoured when I am not by. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! Lady Teazle, you might 
 have the power to make me good-humoured at 
 all times. 
 
 Lady T. I am sure I wish I had ; for I want
 
 8o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 you to be in a charming sweet temper at this 
 moment. Do be good-humoured now, and let 
 me have two hundred pounds, will you ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Two hundred pounds ! what, 
 ain't I to be in a good humour without paying 
 for it ? But speak to me thus, and i'faith there's 
 nothing I could refuse you. You shall have it ; 
 but seal me a bond for the repayment. 
 
 Lady T. Oh no there my note of hand will 
 do as well. [Offering her hand. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And you shall no longer reproach 
 me with not giving you an independent settlement. 
 I mean shortly to surprise you : but shall we 
 always live thus, hey ? 
 
 Lady T. If you please. I'm sure I don't care 
 how soon we leave off quarrelling, provided you'll 
 own you were tired first. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well then let our future contest 
 be, who shall be most obliging. 
 
 Lady T. I assure you, Sir Peter, good-nature 
 becomes you you look now as you did before 
 we were married, when you used to walk with 
 me under the elms, and tell me stories of what 
 a gallant you were in your youth, and chuck 
 me under the chin, you would ; and ask me if 
 I thought I could love an old fellow, who would 
 deny me nothing didn't you ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, and you were as kind 
 and attentive 
 
 Lady T. Ay so I was, and would always 
 take your part, when my acquaintance used to 
 abuse you, and turn you into ridicule. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Indeed !
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 81 
 
 Lady T. Ay, and when my cousin Sophy has 
 called you a stiff, peevish old bachelor, and 
 laughed at me for thinking of marrying one 
 who might be my father, I have always defended 
 you, and said, I didn't think you so ugly by any 
 means, and I dared say you'd make a very good 
 sort of a husband. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And you prophesied right ; and 
 we shall now be the happiest couple 
 
 Lady T. And never differ again ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, never ! though at the same 
 time, indeed, my dear Lady Teazle, you must 
 watch your temper very seriously ; for in all 
 our little quarrels, my dear, if you recollect, my 
 love, you always began first. 
 
 Lady T. I beg your pardon, my dear Sir 
 Peter : indeed, you always gave the provocation. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Now see, my angel ! take care 
 contradicting isn't the way to keep friends. 
 
 Lady T. Then don't you begin it, my love! 
 
 Sir Peter T. There, now ! you you are going 
 on. You don't' perceive, my life, that you are 
 just doing the very thing which you know always 
 makes me angry. 
 
 Lady T. Nay, you know if you will be angry 
 without any reason, my dear 
 
 Sir Peter T. There ! now you want to quarrel 
 again. 
 
 Lady T. No, I am sure I don't : but if you 
 will be so peevish 
 
 Sir Peter T. There now ! who begins first? 
 
 Lady T. Why you, to be sure. I said nothing 
 but there's no bearing your temper.
 
 g 2 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, no, madam : the fault's in 
 your own temper. 
 
 Lady T. Ay, you are just what my cousin 
 Sophy said you would be. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Your cousin Sophy is a forward, 
 impertinent gipsy. 
 
 Lady T. You are a great bear, I'm sure, to 
 abuse my relations. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Now may all the plagues of 
 marriage be doubled on me, if ever I try to be 
 friends with you any more ! 
 
 Lady T. So much the better. 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, no, madam : 'tis evident 
 you never cared a pin for me, and I was a 
 madman to marry you a pert, rural coquette, 
 that had refused half the honest 'squires in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 Lady T. And I am sure I was a fool to marry 
 you an old dangling bachelor, who was single 
 at fifty, only because he never could meet with 
 any one who would have him. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, ay, madam ; but you were 
 pleased enough to listen to me : you never had 
 such an offer before. 
 
 Lady T. No ! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, 
 who everybody said would have been a better 
 match ? for his estate is just as good as yours, 
 and he has broke his neck since we have been 
 married. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I have done with you, madam ! 
 You are an unfeeling, ungrateful but there's 
 an end of everything. I believe you capable 
 of everything that is bad. Yes, madam, I now
 
 Lady T. Well, you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only interrupt 
 you so, lye bye !
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 85 
 
 believe the reports relative to you and Charles, 
 madam. Yes, madam, you and Charles are 
 not without grounds 
 
 Lady T. Take care, Sir Peter ! you had better 
 not insinuate any such thing ! I'll not be sus- 
 pected without cause, I promise you. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Very well, madam ! very well ! 
 A separate maintenance as soon as you please. 
 Yes, madam, or a divorce! I'll make an example 
 of myself for the benefit of all old bachelors. 
 Let us separate, madam. 
 
 Lady T. Agreed! agreed! And now, my 
 dear Sir Peter, we are of a mind once more, we 
 may be the happiest couple and never differ 
 again, you know ha! ha! ha! Well, you are 
 going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only 
 interrupt you so, bye bye. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Plagues and tortures ! Can't I 
 make her angry either ! Oh, I am the most 
 miserable fellow ! but I'll not bear her presuming 
 to keep her temper : no ! she may break my 
 heart, but she shan't keep her temper. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. CHARLES SURFACE'S House 
 Enter TRIP, MOSES, and Sir OLIVER SURFACE 
 
 Trip. Here, Master Moses ! if you'll stay a 
 moment, I'll try whether what's the gentleman's 
 name ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Mr. Moses, what is my name ? 
 
 Moses. Mr. Premium.
 
 86 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT m 
 
 Trip. Premium very well. 
 
 [Exit TRIP, taking snuff. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. To judge by the servants, one 
 wouldn't believe the master was ruined. But 
 what ! sure, this was my brother's house ? 
 
 Moses. Yes, sir; Mr. Charles bought it of 
 Mr. Joseph, with the furniture, pictures, etc., 
 just as the old gentleman left it. Sir Peter 
 thought it a piece of extravagance in him. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. In my mind, the other's economy 
 in selling it to him was more reprehensible by half. 
 
 Enter TRIP 
 
 Trip. My master says you must wait, gentle- 
 men : he has company, and can't speak with 
 you yet. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. If he knew who it was wanted 
 to see him, perhaps he would not send such a 
 message ? 
 
 Trip. Yes, yes, sir ; he knows you are here 
 I did not forget little Premium : no, no, no. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Very well ; and I pray, sir, what 
 may be your name ? 
 
 Trip. Trip, sir; my name is Trip, at your 
 service. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well then, Mr. Trip, you have 
 a pleasant sort of place here, I guess ? 
 
 Trip. Why, yes here are three or four of us 
 pass our time agreeably enough ; but then our 
 wages are sometimes a little in arrear and not 
 very great either but fifty pounds a year, and 
 find our own bags and bouquets.
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 87 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Bags and bouquets ! halters and 
 bastinadoes ! \_Aside. 
 
 Trip. And, a-propos, Moses have you been 
 able to get me that little bill discounted? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Wants to raise money too ! 
 mercy on me ! Has his distresses too, I warrant, 
 like a lord, and affects creditors and duns. \_Aside. 
 
 Moses. 'Twas not to be done, indeed, Mr. 
 Trip. 
 
 Trip. Good lack, you surprise me ! My friend 
 Brush has indorsed it, and I thought when he 
 put his name at the back of a bill 'twas the same 
 as cash. 
 
 Moses. No ! 'twouldn't do. 
 
 Trip. A small sum but twenty pounds. 
 Hark'ee, Moses, do you think you couldn't get 
 it me by way of annuity ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. An annuity ! ha ! ha ! a footman 
 raise money by way of annuity ! Well done, 
 luxury, egad ! \_Aside. 
 
 Moses. Well,- but you must insure your place. 
 
 Trip. Oh, with all my heart ! I'll insure my 
 place, and my life too, if you please. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. It's more than I would your 
 neck. [Aside. 
 
 Moses. But is there nothing you could deposit? 
 
 Trip. Why, nothing capital of my master's 
 wardrobe has dropped lately; but I could give 
 you a mortgage on some of his winter clothes, 
 with equity of redemption before November 
 or you shall have the reversion of the French 
 velvet, or a post-obit on the blue and silver : 
 these, I should think, Moses, with a few pair of
 
 88 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 point ruffles, as a collateral security hey, my 
 little fellow? 
 
 Moses. Well, well. [Bell rings. 
 
 Trip. Egad, I heard the bell ! I believe, 
 gentlemen, I can now introduce you. Don't 
 forget the annuity, little Moses ! This way, 
 gentlemen. I'll insure my place, you know. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. If the man be a shadow of the 
 master, this is the temple of dissipation indeed ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. CHARLES SURFACE, CARELESS, etc. 
 etc., at a table with wine, etc. 
 
 Charles S. 'Fore heaven, 'tis true ! there's 
 the great degeneracy of the age. Many of our 
 acquaintance have taste, spirit, and politeness ; 
 but, plague on't, they won't drink. 
 
 Careless. It is so indeed, Charles! they give 
 into all the substantial luxuries of the table, and 
 abstain from nothing but wine and wit. Oh, 
 certainly society suffers by it intolerably ; for 
 now, instead of the social spirit of raillery that 
 used to mantle over a glass of bright Burgundy, 
 their conversation is become just like the Spa 
 water they drink, which has all the pertness and 
 flatulence of Champagne, without the spirit or 
 flavour. 
 
 1st Gent. But what are they to do who love 
 play better than wine ? 
 
 Careless. True : there's Sir Harry diets him- 
 self for gaming, and is now under a hazard 
 regimen.
 
 Charles. Bumpers, you rogues ! bumpers! Maria! Maria!
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 91 
 
 Charles S. Then he'll have the worst of it. 
 What ! you wouldn't train a horse for the course 
 by keeping him from corn ? For my part, egad, 
 I am never so successful as when I am a little 
 merry : let me throw on a bottle of Champagne, 
 and I never lose at least, I never feel my losses, 
 which is exactly the same thing. 
 
 2nd Gent. Ay, that I believe. 
 
 Charles S. And then, what man can pretend 
 to be a believer in love, who is an abjurer of 
 wine ? 'Tis the test by which the lover knows 
 his own heart. Fill a dozen bumpers to a dozen 
 beauties, and she that floats atop is the maid 
 that has bewitched you. 
 
 Careless. Now then, Charles, be honest, and 
 give us your real favourite. 
 
 Charles S. Why, I have withheld her only in 
 compassion to you. If I toast her, you must give 
 a round of her peers, which is impossible on earth. 
 
 Careless. Oh ! then we'll find some canonised 
 vestals or heathen goddesses that will do, I 
 warrant ! 
 
 Charles S. Here then, bumpers, you rogues! 
 bumpers ! Maria ! Maria ! 
 
 Sir Harry B. Maria who ? 
 
 Charles S. Oh, damn the surname 'tis too 
 formal to be registered in Love's calendar ; but 
 now, Sir Harry, beware, we must have beauty 
 superlative. 
 
 Careless. Nay, never study, Sir Harry : we'll 
 stand to the toast, though your mistress should 
 want an eye, and you know you have a song 
 will excuse you.
 
 92 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Sir Harry B. Egad, so I have ! and I'll give 
 him the song instead of the lady. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen ; 
 
 Here's to the widow of fifty ; 
 Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, 
 
 And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 
 
 Chorus. Let the toast pass, 
 
 Drink to the lass, 
 I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 Here's to the charmer whose dimples we pri/e 
 Now to the maid who has none, sir : 
 
 Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, 
 And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. 
 
 Chorus. Let the toast pass, etc. 
 
 Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow ; 
 
 Now to her that's as brown as a berry : 
 Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, 
 
 And now to the girl that is merry. 
 
 Chorus. Let the toast pass, etc. 
 
 For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim, 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather ; 
 
 So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim, 
 And let us e'en toast them together. 
 
 Chorus. Let the toast pass, etc. 
 
 All. Bravo ! bravo !
 
 Sir Harry Bumper. Here's to the maiden of bashful fftecn.
 
 THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 95 
 
 Enter TRIP, and whispers CHARLES SURFACE 
 
 Charles S. Gentlemen, you must excuse me a 
 little. Careless, take the chair, will you? 
 
 Careless. Nay, prithee, Charles, what now ? 
 This is one of your peerless beauties, I suppose, 
 has dropt in by chance ? 
 
 Charles S. No, faith! To tell you the truth, 
 'tis a Jew and a broker, who are come by appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Careless. Oh, damn it ! let's have the Jew in. 
 
 ist Gent. Ay, and the broker too, by all 
 means. 
 
 ind Gent. Yes, yes, the Jew and the broker. 
 
 Charles S. Egad, with all my heart ! Trip, 
 bid the gentlemen walk in though there's one 
 of them a stranger, I can tell you. 
 
 Careless. Charles, let us give them some 
 generous Burgundy, and perhaps they'll grow 
 conscientious. 
 
 Charles S. Oh, hang 'em, no ! wine does but 
 draw forth a man's natural qualities ; and to 
 make them drink would only be to whet their 
 knavery. 
 
 Enter TRIP, Sir OLIVER SURFACE, and MOSES 
 
 Charles S. So, honest Moses, walk in : walk 
 in, pray, Mr. Premium that's the gentleman's 
 name, isn't it, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. Yes, sir.
 
 9 6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Charles S. Set chairs, Trip sit down, Mr. 
 Premium -- glasses, Trip -- sit down, Moses. 
 Come, Mr. Premium, I'll give you a sentiment ; 
 here's Success to usury ! Moses, fill the gentleman 
 a bumper. 
 
 Moses. Success to usury ! 
 
 Careless. Right, Moses usury is prudence 
 and industry, and deserves to succeed. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Then here's all the success it 
 deserves ! 
 
 Careless. No, no, that won't do ! Mr. Premium, 
 you have demurred at the toast, and must drink 
 it in a pint bumper. 
 
 i st Gent. A pint bumper, at least. 
 
 Moses. Oh, pray, sir, consider Mr. Premium's 
 a gentleman. 
 
 Careless. And therefore loves good wine. 
 
 2nd Gent. Give Moses a quart glass this is 
 mutiny, and a high contempt for the chair. 
 
 Careless. Here, now for't ! I'll see justice 
 done, to the last drop of my bottle. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Nay, pray, gentlemen I did not 
 expect this usage. 
 
 Charles S. No, hang it, you shan't ! Mr. 
 Premium's a stranger. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Odd ! I wish I was well out of 
 their company. \_Aside. 
 
 Careless. Plague on 'em then ! if they don't 
 drink, we'll not sit down with them. Come, 
 Harry, the dice are in the next room Charles, 
 you'll join us when you have finished your business 
 with the gentlemen ? 
 
 Charles S. I will ! I will ! [Exeunt.'] Careless !
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 97 
 
 Careless. [Returning.] Well ! 
 
 Charles S. Perhaps I may want you. 
 
 Careless. Oh, you know I am always ready : 
 word, note, or bond, 'tis all the same to me. [Exit. 
 
 Moses. Sir, this is Mr. Premium, a gentleman 
 of the strictest honour and secrecy ; and always 
 performs what he undertakes. Mr. Premium, 
 this is 
 
 Charles S. Pshaw ! have done. Sir, my friend 
 Moses is a very honest fellow, but a little slow at 
 expression : he'll be an hour giving us our titles. 
 Mr. Premium, the plain state of the matter is this : 
 I am an extravagant young fellow who wants to 
 borrow money you I take to be a prudent old 
 fellow, who have got money to lend. I am block- 
 head enough to give 50 per cent sooner than not 
 have it ; and you, I presume, are rogue enough to 
 take a hundred if you can get it. Now, sir, you 
 see we are acquainted at once, and may proceed to 
 business without further ceremony. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Exceeding frank, upon my word. 
 I see, sir, you are not a man of many compli- 
 ments. 
 
 Charles S. Oh no, sir ! plain dealing in business 
 I always think best. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sir, I like you the better for it 
 however, you are mistaken in one thing ; I have 
 no money to lend, but I believe I could procure 
 some of a friend ; but then he's an unconscionable 
 dog, isn't he, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. But you can't help that. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. And must sell stock to accom- 
 modate you mustn't he, Moses? 
 
 H
 
 9 8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Moses. Yes, indeed ! You know I always speak 
 the truth, and scorn to tell a lie ! 
 
 Charles S. Right. People that speak truth 
 generally do: but these are trifles, Mr. Premium. 
 What ! I know money isn't to be bought without 
 paying for't ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well but what security could 
 you give ? You have no land, I suppose ? 
 
 Charles S. Not a mole-hill, nor a twig, but 
 what's in the bough-pots out of the window ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Nor any stock, I presume ? 
 
 Charles S. Nothing but live stock and that's 
 only a few pointers and ponies. But pray, Mr. 
 Premium, are you acquainted at all with any of 
 my connections? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Why, to say truth, I am. 
 
 Charles S. Then you must know that I have 
 a dev'lish rich uncle in the East Indies, Sir 
 Oliver Surface, from whom I have the greatest 
 expectations ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. That you have a wealthy uncle I 
 have heard ; but how your expectations will turn 
 out is more, I believe, than you can tell. 
 
 Charles S. Oh no ! there can be no doubt. 
 They tell me I'm a prodigious favourite, and that 
 he talks of leaving me everything. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Indeed ! this is the first I've 
 heard of it. 
 
 Charles S. Yes, yes, 'tis just so Moses knows 
 'tis true, don't you, Moses? 
 
 Moses. Oh yes ! I'll swear to't. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Egad, they'll persuade me pre- 
 sently I'm at Bengal. {Aside.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 99 
 
 Charles S. Now I propose, Mr. Premium, if 
 it's agreeable to you, a post-obit on Sir Oliver's 
 life ; though at the same time the old fellow has 
 been so liberal to me, that I give you my word, I 
 should be very sorry to hear that anything had 
 happened to him. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Not more than I should, I assure 
 you. But the bond you mention happens to be 
 just the worst security you could offer me for I 
 might live to a hundred, and never see the principal. 
 
 Charles S. Oh yes, you would the moment Sir 
 Oliver dies, you know, you would come on me 
 for the money. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Then I believe I should be the 
 most unwelcome dun you ever had in your life. 
 
 Charles S. What ! I suppose you're afraid that 
 Sir Oliver is too good a life ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. No, indeed, I am not ; though I 
 have heard he is as hale and healthy as any man of 
 his years in Christendom. 
 
 Charles S. There again now you are misin- 
 formed. No, no, the climate has hurt him con- 
 siderably, poor Uncle Oliver ! Yes, yes, he breaks 
 apace, I'm told and is so much altered lately, 
 that his nearest relations don't know him. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. No ! ha ! ha ! ha ! so much 
 altered lately, that his nearest relations don't know 
 him ! ha ! ha ! ha ! egad ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Charles S. Ha ! ha ! you're glad to hear that, 
 little Premium ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. No, no, I'm not. 
 
 Charles S. Yes, yes, you are ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 You know that mends your chance.
 
 ioo SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT HI 
 
 Sir Oliver S. But I'm told Sir Oliver is coming 
 over ? nay, some say he is actually arrived ? 
 
 Charles S. Pshaw ! sure I must know better than 
 you whether he's come or not. No, no, rely on't 
 he's at this moment at Calcutta isn't he, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. Oh yes, certainly. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Very true, as you say, you must 
 know better than I, though I have it from pretty 
 good authority haven't I, Moses ? 
 
 Moses. Yes, most undoubted ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. But, sir, as I understand you 
 want a few hundreds immediately is there nothing 
 you could dispose of? 
 
 Charles S. How do you mean ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. For instance, now, I have heard 
 that your father left behind him a great quantity 
 of massy old plate ? 
 
 Charles S. O Lud ! that's gone long ago. 
 Moses can tell you how better than I can. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Good lack ! all the family race 
 cups and corporation bowls ! \_Aside.~] Then it 
 was also supposed that his library was one of the 
 most valuable and compact 
 
 Charles S. Yes, yes, so it was vastly too much 
 so for a private gentleman. For my part, I was 
 always of a communicative disposition, so I thought 
 it a shame to keep so much knowledge to myself. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Mercy upon me ! Learning that 
 had run in the family like an heirloom ! \_Aside.~\ 
 Pray, what are become of the books ? 
 
 Charles S. You must inquire of the auctioneer, 
 Master Premium, for I don't believe even Moses 
 can direct you.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 101 
 
 Moses. I know nothing of books. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. So, so, nothing of the family 
 property left, I suppose ? 
 
 Charles S. Not much, indeed ; unless you have 
 a mind to the family pictures. I have got a room 
 full of ancestors above, and if you have a taste for 
 paintings, egad, you shall have 'em a bargain. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Hey ! what the devil ! sure, you 
 wouldn't sell your forefathers, would you ? 
 
 Charles S. Every man of them to the best 
 bidder. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What ! your great -uncles and 
 aunts ? 
 
 Charles S. Ay, and my great-grandfathers and 
 grandmothers too. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Now I give him up. \Aside ^\ 
 What the plague, have you no bowels for your own 
 kindred ? Odd's life, do you take me for Shylock 
 in the play, that you would raise money of me on 
 your own flesh and blood? 
 
 Charles S. Nay, my little broker, don't be 
 angry : what need you care if you have your 
 money's worth? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, I'll be the purchaser : I 
 think I can dispose of the family canvass. Oh, 
 I'll never forgive him this ! never ! \_Aside. 
 
 Enter CARELESS 
 
 Careless. Come, Charles, what keeps you ? 
 
 Charles S. I can't come yet : i' faith we are 
 going to have a sale above stairs ; here's little 
 Premium will buy all my ancestors.
 
 102 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT m 
 
 Careless. Oh, burn your ancestors ! 
 
 Charles S. No, he may do that afterwards, if he 
 pleases. Stay, Careless, we want you : egad, you 
 shall be auctioneer ; so come along with us. 
 
 Careless. Oh, have with you, if that's the case. 
 Handle a hammer as well as a dice-box ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh, the profligates ! [Aside. 
 
 Charles S. Come, Moses, you shall be appraiser, 
 if we want one. Gad's life, little Premium, you 
 don't seem to like the business? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh yes, I do, vastly. Ha ! ha! ha ! 
 yes, yes, I think it a rare joke to sell one's family 
 by auction ha ! ha ! Oh, the prodigal ! [Aside. 
 
 Charles S. To be sure ! when a man wants 
 money, where the plague should he get ^ assistance 
 if he can't make free with his own relations ? 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. Picture Room at CHARLES'S 
 
 Enter CHARLES SURFACE, Sir OLIVER SURFACE, 
 MOSES, and CARELESS 
 
 Charles S. Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in ; 
 here they are, the family of the Surfaces, up to 
 the Conquest. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. And, in my opinion, a goodly 
 collection. 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, these are done in the true 
 spirit of portrait painting ; no volontier grace and 
 expression. Not like the works of your modern 
 Raphaels, who give you the strongest resemblance, 
 yet contrive to make your portrait independent of 
 you ; so that you may sink the original and not 
 hurt the picture. No, no ; the merit of these is 
 the inveterate likeness all stiff and awkward as 
 the originals, and like nothing in human nature 
 besides. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ah ! we shall never see such 
 figures of men again. 
 
 Charles S. I hope not. Well, you see,
 
 104 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Master Premium, what a domestic character I 
 am ; here I sit of an evening surrounded by my 
 family. - - But, come, get to your pulpit, 
 Mr. Auctioneer ; here's an old gouty chair of my 
 father's will answer the purpose. 
 
 Careless. Ay, ay, this will do. But, Charles, 
 I haven't a hammer ; and what's an auctioneer 
 without his hammer? 
 
 Charles S. Egad, that's true ; what parchment 
 have we here ? Oh, our genealogy in full. Here, 
 Careless, you shall have no common bit of 
 mahogany, here's the family tree for you, you rogue, 
 this shall be your hammer, and now you may 
 knock down my ancestors with their own pedigree. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What an unnatural rogue ! an 
 ex post facto parricide ! \_Aside. 
 
 Careless. Yes, yes, here's a bit of your generation 
 indeed ; faith, Charles, this is the most con- 
 venient thing you could have found for the busi- 
 ness, for 'twill serve not only as a hammer, but a 
 
 catalogue into the bargain. Come, begin 
 
 A-going, a-going, a-going ! 
 
 Charles S. Bravo, Careless! Well, here's my 
 great -uncle, Sir Richard Raveline, a marvellous 
 good general in his day, I assure you. He served 
 in all the Duke of Marl borough's wars, and got 
 that cut over his eye at the battle of Malplaquet. 
 -What say you, Mr. Premium? look at him 
 there's a hero, not cut out of his feathers, as your 
 modern dipt captains are, but enveloped in wig 
 and regimentals, as a general should be. What do 
 you bid ? 
 
 Moses. Mr. Premium would havejy<?# speak.
 
 Charles. You may knock down my ancestors with their own pedigree.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 107 
 
 Charles S. Why, then, he shall have him for ten 
 pounds, and I'm sure that's not dear for a staff-officer. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Heaven deliver me ! his famous 
 Uncle Richard for ten pounds ! \_Aside^\ Well, 
 sir, I take him at that. 
 
 Charles S. Careless, knock down my Uncle 
 Richard. Here, now, is a maiden sister of his, my 
 great-aunt Deborah, done by Kneller, thought to 
 be in his best manner, and a very formidable like- 
 ness. There she is, you see, a shepherdess feeding 
 her flock. You shall have her for five pounds ten 
 the sheep are worth the money. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ah ! poor Deborah ! a woman 
 who set such a value on herself! [Aside. ~\ Five 
 pounds ten she's mine. 
 
 Charles S. Knock down my Aunt Deborah ! 
 Here, now, are two that were a sort of cousins of 
 theirs. You see, Moses, these pictures were done 
 some time ago, when beaux wore wigs, and the 
 ladies their own hair. 
 
 Sir Oliver S.. Yes, truly, head-dresses appear to 
 have been a little lower in those days. 
 
 Charles S. Well, take that couple for the same. 
 
 Moses. 'Tis good bargain. 
 
 Charles S. Careless! This, now, is a grand- 
 father of my mother's, a learned judge, well known 
 on the western circuit. What do you rate him at, 
 Moses ? 
 
 Moses. Four guineas. 
 
 Charles S. Four guineas ! Gad's life, you don't 
 bid me the price of his wig. Mr. Premium, you 
 have more respect for the woolsack ; do let us 
 knock his lordship down at fifteen.
 
 iog SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Sir Oliver S. By all means. 
 
 Careless. Gone ! 
 
 Charles S. And there are two brothers of his, 
 William and Walter Blunt, Esquires, both members 
 of parliament, and noted speakers, and what's very 
 extraordinary, I believe, this is the first time they 
 were ever bought or sold. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. That is very extraordinary, 
 indeed ! I'll take them at your own price, for the 
 honour of parliament. 
 
 Careless. Well said, little Premium ! I'll 
 knock them down at forty. 
 
 Charles S. Here's a jolly fellow I don't know 
 what relation, but he was mayor of Manchester : 
 take him at eight pounds. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. No, no ; six will do for the 
 mayor. 
 
 Charles S. Come, make it guineas, and I'll 
 throw you the two aldermen there into the bargain. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. They're mine. 
 
 Charles S. Careless, knock down the mayor 
 
 and aldermen. But plague on't, we shall be 
 
 all day retailing in this manner ; do let us deal 
 wholesale : what say you, little Premium ? Give 
 us three hundred pounds for the rest of the family 
 in the lump. 
 
 Careless. Ay, ay, that will be the best way. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, well, anything to accom- 
 modate you ; they are mine. But there is one 
 portrait which you have always passed over. 
 
 Careless. What, that ill -looking little fellow 
 over the settee ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, sir, I mean that, though I
 
 Charles. Knock down my Aunt Deborah !
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL in 
 
 don't think him so ill-looking a little fellow, by 
 any means. 
 
 Charles S. What, that ? Oh ! that's my Uncle 
 Oliver ; 'twas done before he went to India. 
 
 Careless. Your Uncle Oliver ! Gad, then you'll 
 never be friends, Charles. That, now, to me, is as 
 stern a looking rogue as ever I saw ; an unforgiv- 
 ing eye, and a damned disinheriting countenance ! 
 an inveterate knave, depend on't. Don't you 
 think so, little Premium ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Upon my soul, sir, I do not ; I 
 think it is as honest a looking face as any in the 
 room, dead or alive ; but I suppose Uncle Oliver 
 goes with the rest of the lumber ? 
 
 Charles S. No, hang it ; I'll not part with poor 
 Noll. The old fellow has been very good to me, 
 and, egad, I'll keep his picture while I've a room 
 to put it in. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. The rogue's my nephew after all ! 
 \_Aside '.] But, sir, I have somehow taken a fancy 
 to that picture. 
 
 Charles S. I'm sorry for't, for you certainly 
 will not have it. Oons, haven't you got enough 
 of them ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I forgive him everything ! \_Aside ^\ 
 But, sir, when I take a whim in my head I 
 don't value money. I'll give you as much for that 
 as for all the rest. 
 
 Charles S. Don't tease me, master broker ; I 
 tell you I'll not part with it, and there's an end 
 of it. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. How like his father the dog is ! 
 \_AsideI\ Well, well, I have done. 1 did not
 
 ii2 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 perceive it before, but I think I never saw such 
 
 a striking resemblance \A side.~\ Here is a 
 
 draft for your sum. 
 
 Charles S. Why, 'tis for eight hundred pounds. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. You will not let Sir Oliver go ? 
 
 Charles S. Zounds ! no ! I tell you once 
 more. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Then never mind the difference, 
 we'll balance that another time but give me 
 your hand on the bargain ; you are an honest 
 fellow, Charles I beg pardon, sir, for being so 
 free. Come, Moses. 
 
 Charles S. Egad, this is a whimsical old fellow ! 
 But hark'ee, Premium, you'll prepare lodgings for 
 these gentlemen. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, yes, I'll send for them in a 
 day or two. 
 
 Charles S. But, hold ; do now send a genteel 
 conveyance for them, for, I assure you, they were 
 most of them used to ride in their own carriages. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I will, I will for all but Oliver. 
 
 Charles S. Ay, all but the little nabob. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. You're fixed on that ? 
 
 Charles S. Peremptorily. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. A dear extravagant rogue ! 
 \_Aside.~] Good-day ! Come, Moses. Let me 
 hear now who calls him profligate ! 
 
 [Exeunt Sir OLIVER SURFACE and MOSES. 
 
 Careless. Why, this is the oddest genius of the 
 sort I ever saw ! 
 
 Charles S. Egad, he's the prince of brokers, 
 I think. I wonder how Moses got acquainted 
 with so honest a fellow. Hah! here's Rowley;
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 113 
 
 do, Careless, say I'll join the company in a few 
 moments. 
 
 Careless. I will but don't let that old block- 
 head persuade you to squander any of that money 
 on old musty debts, or any such nonsense ; for 
 tradesmen, Charles, are the most exorbitant fellows. 
 
 Charles S. Very true, and paying them is only 
 encouraging them. 
 
 Careless. Nothing else. 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, never fear. [Exit CARE- 
 LESS.] Soh ! this was an odd old fellow, indeed. 
 
 Let me see two-thirds of this is mine by 
 right, five hundred and thirty odd pounds. 'Fore 
 Heaven ! I find one's ancestors are more valuable 
 relations than I took them for! Ladies and 
 gentlemen, your most obedient and very grateful 
 servant. 
 
 Enter ROWLEY 
 
 Hah ! old Rowley ! egad, you are just come in 
 time to take leave of your old acquaintance. 
 
 Rowley. Yes, I heard they were a-going. But 
 I wonder you can have such spirits under so many 
 distresses. 
 
 Charles S. Why, there's the point ! my dis- 
 tresses are so many, that I can't afford to part with 
 my spirits ; but I shall be rich and splenetic, all in 
 good time. However, I suppose you are surprised 
 that I am not more sorrowful at parting with so 
 many near relations ; to be sure 'tis very affecting : 
 but you see they never move a muscle, so why 
 should I ?
 
 n 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Rowley. There's no making you serious a 
 moment. 
 
 Charles S. Yes, faith, I am so now. Here, 
 my honest Rowley, here, get me this changed 
 directly, and take a hundred pounds of it im- 
 mediately to old Stanley. 
 
 Rowley. A hundred pounds ! Consider only 
 
 Charles S. Gad's life, don't talk about it : 
 poor Stanley's wants are pressing, and if you 
 don't make haste, we shall have some one call 
 that has a better right to the money. 
 
 Rowley. Ah ! there's the point ! I never will 
 cease dunning you with the old proverb 
 
 Charles S. " Be just before you're generous. "- 
 Why, so I would if I could ; but Justice is an 
 old lame hobbling beldame, and I can't get her 
 to keep pace with Generosity for the soul of me. 
 
 Rowley. Yet, Charles, believe me, one hour's 
 reflection 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, it's all very true ; but, 
 hark'ee, Rowley, while I have, by Heaven I'll 
 give ; so damn your economy, and now for 
 hazard. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. The Parlour 
 Enter Sir OLIVER SURFACE and MOSES 
 
 Moses. Well, sir, I think, as Sir Peter said, 
 you have seen Mr. Charles in high glory ; 'tis 
 great pity he's so extravagant. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. True, but he would not sell my 
 picture.
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 115 
 
 Moses. And loves wine and women so much. 
 Sir Oliver S. But he would not sell my picture. 
 Moses. And games so deep. 
 Sir Oliver S. But he would not sell my picture. 
 Oh, here's Rowley. 
 
 Enter ROWLEY 
 
 Rowley. So, Sir Oliver, I find you have made 
 a purchase 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, yes, our young rake has 
 parted with his ancestors like old tapestry. 
 
 Rowley. And here has he commissioned me 
 to re-deliver you part of the purchase-money 
 I mean, though, in your necessitous character of 
 old Stanley. 
 
 Moses. Ah ! there is the pity of all ; he is so 
 damned charitable. 
 
 Rowley. And I left a hosier and two tailors 
 in the hall, who, I'm sure, won't be paid, and 
 this hundred would satisfy them. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, well, I'll pay his debts, 
 and his benevolence too. But now I am no 
 more a broker, and you shall introduce me to 
 the elder brother as old Stanley. 
 
 Rowley. Not yet a while ; Sir Peter, I know, 
 means to call there about this time. 
 
 Enter TRIP 
 
 Trip. Oh, gentlemen, I beg pardon for not 
 
 showing you out ; this way Moses, a word. 
 
 and MOSES.
 
 n6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Sir Oliver S. There's a fellow for you would 
 you believe it, that puppy intercepted the Jew 
 on our coming, and wanted to raise money before 
 he got to his master. 
 
 Rowley. Indeed ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, they are now planning an 
 annuity business. Ah ! Master Rowley, in my 
 days servants were content with the follies of their 
 masters, when they were worn a little threadbare ; 
 but now, they have their vices, like their birthday 
 clothes, with the gloss on. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. A Library 
 
 JOSEPH SURFACE and a SERVANT 
 
 Joseph S. No letter from Lady Teazle ? 
 
 Serv. No, sir. 
 
 Joseph S. I am surprised she has not sent, if 
 she is prevented from coming. Sir Peter cer- 
 tainly does not suspect me. Yet, I wish I may 
 not lose the heiress, through the scrape I have 
 drawn myself into with the wife ; however," 
 Charles's imprudence and bad character are great 
 points in my favour. [Knocking heard without. 
 
 Serv. Sir, I believe that must be Lady Teazle. 
 
 Joseph S. Hold ! See whether it is or not 
 before you go to the door : I have a particular 
 message for you, if it should be my brother. 
 
 Serv. 'Tis her ladyship, sir ; she always leaves 
 her chair at the milliner's in the next street.
 
 She always leaves her chair at the milliner's in the next itrcet.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 119 
 
 Joseph. S. Stay, stay ; draw that screen before 
 the window that will do ; my opposite neigh- 
 bour is a maiden lady of so anxious a temper. 
 [SERVANT draws the screen, and exit.~\ I have a 
 difficult hand to play in this affair. Lady Teazle 
 has lately suspected my views on Maria ; but 
 she must by no means be let into that secret, 
 at least, till I have her more in my power. 
 
 Enter Lady TEAZLE 
 
 Lady T. What, sentiment in soliloquy now? 
 Have you been very impatient ? O Lud ! don't 
 pretend to look grave. I vow I couldn't come 
 before. 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, madam, punctuality is a species 
 of constancy, a very unfashionable quality in a 
 lady. 
 
 Lady T. Upon my word, you ought to pity 
 me. Do you know Sir Peter is grown so ill- 
 natured to me of late, and so jealous of Charles 
 too that's the best of the story, isn't it? 
 
 Joseph S. I am glad my scandalous friends 
 keep that up. [Aside. 
 
 Lady T. I am sure I wish he would let Maria 
 marry him, and then perhaps he would be con- 
 vinced ; don't you, Mr. Surface ? 
 
 Joseph S. Indeed I do not. \dsidel\ Oh, 
 certainly I do ! for then my dear Lady Teazle 
 would also be convinced, how wrong her sus- 
 picions were of my having any design on the 
 silly girl. 
 
 Lady T. Well, well, I'm inclined to believe
 
 iio SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 you. But isn't it provoking, to have the most 
 ill-natured things said of one? And there's my 
 friend Lady Sneerwell has circulated 1 don't 
 know how many scandalous tales of me, and all 
 without any foundation too that's what vexes 
 me. 
 
 Joseph S. Ay, madam, to be sure, that is the 
 provoking circumstance without foundation ; 
 yes, yes, there's the mortification, indeed ; for 
 when a scandalous story is believed against one, 
 there certainly is no comfort like the conscious- 
 ness of having deserved it. 
 
 Lady T. No, to be sure, then I'd forgive 
 their malice ; but to attack me, who am really 
 so innocent, and who never say an ill-natured 
 thing of anybody that is, of any friend ; and 
 then Sir Peter too, to have him so peevish, and 
 so suspicious, when I know the integrity of my 
 own heart indeed 'tis monstrous ! 
 
 Joseph S. But, my dear Lady Teazle, 'tis 
 your own fault if you suffer it. When a husband 
 entertains a groundless suspicion of his wife, and 
 withdraws his confidence from her, the original 
 compact is broken, and she owes it to the honour 
 of her sex to outwit him. 
 
 Lady T. Indeed ! so that if he suspects me 
 without cause, it follows, that the best way of 
 curing his jealousy is to give him reason for't. 
 
 Joseph S. Undoubtedly for your husband 
 should never be deceived in you, and in that 
 case it becomes you to be frail in compliment to 
 his discernment. 
 
 Lady T. To be sure, what you say is very
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL izi 
 
 reasonable, and when the consciousness of my 
 innocence 
 
 Joseph S. Ah ! my dear madam, there is the 
 great mistake : 'tis this very conscious innocence 
 that is of the greatest prejudice to you. What 
 is it makes you negligent of forms, and careless 
 of the world's opinion? why, the consciousness 
 of your own innocence. What makes you 
 thoughtless in your conduct, and apt to run into 
 a thousand little imprudences? why, the con- 
 sciousness of your own innocence. What makes 
 you impatient of Sir Peter's temper, and out- 
 rageous at his suspicions ? why, the consciousness 
 of your innocence. 
 
 Lady T. 'Tis very true ! 
 
 Joseph S. Now, my dear Lady Teazle, if you 
 would but once make a trifling faux pas, you 
 can't conceive how cautious you would grow, 
 and how ready to humour and agree with your 
 husband. 
 
 Lady T. Do you think so ? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh ! I am sure on't ; and then you 
 would find all scandal would cease at once, for, 
 in short, your character at present is like a 
 person in a plethora, absolutely dying from too 
 much health. 
 
 Lady T. So, so ; then I perceive your pre- 
 scription is, that I must sin in my own defence, 
 and part with my virtue to secure my reputation ? 
 
 Joseph S. Exactly so, upon my credit, ma'am. 
 
 Lady T. Well, certainly this is the oddest 
 doctrine, and the newest receipt for avoiding 
 calumny !
 
 122 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Joseph S. An infallible one, believe me. 
 Prudence, like experience, must be paid for. 
 
 Lady T. Why, if my understanding were once 
 convinced 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, certainly, madam, your under- 
 standing should be convinced. Yes, yes Heaven 
 forbid I should persuade you to do anything you 
 thought wrong. No, no, I have too much honour 
 to desire it. 
 
 Lady T. Don't you think we may as well leave 
 honour out of the question ? 
 
 Joseph S. Ah ! the ill effects of your country 
 education, I see, still remain with you. 
 
 Lady T. I doubt they do indeed ; and I will 
 fairly own to you, that if I could be persuaded 
 to do wrong, it would be by Sir Peter's ill- 
 usage sooner than your honourable logic, after 
 all. 
 
 Joseph S. Then, by this hand, which he is 
 unworthy of [Taking her hand. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 'Sdeath, you blockhead what do you want ? 
 
 Serv. I beg your pardon, sir, but I thought 
 you would not choose Sir Peter to come up with- 
 out announcing him. 
 
 Joseph S. Sir Peter ! Oons the devil ! 
 
 Lady T. Sir Peter ! O Lud I'm ruined 
 I'm ruined ! 
 
 Serv. Sir, 'twasn't I let him in. 
 
 Lady T. Oh ! I'm quite undone ! What will 
 become of me ? Now, Mr. Logic Oh ! he's on
 
 Sir P. Ay, ever improving himself Mr. Surface, Mr. Surface
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 125 
 
 the stairs I'll get behind here and if ever I'm 
 so imprudent again [Goes behind the screen. 
 
 Joseph S. Give me that book. 
 [Sits down. SERVANT pretends to adjust his hair. 
 
 Enter Sir PETER 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, ever improving himself Mr. 
 Surface, Mr. Surface 
 
 Joseph S. Oh ! my dear Sir Peter, I beg your 
 pardon [Gaping throws away the book.'] I 
 have been dozing over a stupid book. Well, I 
 am much obliged to you for this call. You 
 haven't been here, I believe, since I fitted up 
 this room. Books, you know, are the only things 
 in which I am a coxcomb. 
 
 Sir Peter T. 'Tis very neat indeed. Well, 
 well, that's proper ; and you can make even 
 your screen a source of knowledge hung, I 
 perceive, with maps? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, yes, I find great use in that 
 screen. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I daresay you must, certainly, 
 when you want to find anything in a hurry. 
 
 Joseph S. Ay, or to hide anything in a hurry 
 either. [Aside. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, I have a little private 
 business 
 
 Joseph S. You need not stay (to the SERVANT). 
 
 Serv. No, sir. [Exit. 
 
 Joseph S. Here's a chair, Sir Peter I beg 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, now we are alone, there 
 is a subject, my dear friend, on which I wish
 
 iz6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 to unburthen my mind to you a point of the 
 greatest moment to my peace ; in short, my 
 dear friend, Lady Teazle's conduct of late has 
 made me extremely unhappy. 
 
 Joseph S. Indeed ! I am very sorry to hear it. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, 'tis too plain she has not the 
 least regard for me ; but, what's worse, I have 
 pretty good authority to suppose she has formed 
 an attachment to another. 
 
 Joseph S. Indeed ! you astonish me ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes ; and, between ourselves, I 
 think I've discovered the person. 
 
 Joseph S. How ! you alarm me exceedingly. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, my dear friend, I knew you 
 would sympathise with me ! 
 
 Joseph S. Yes believe me, Sir Peter, such a 
 discovery would hurt me just as much as it would 
 you. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I am convinced of it. Ah! it 
 is a happiness to have a friend whom we can 
 trust even with one's family secrets. But have 
 you no guess who I mean ? 
 
 Joseph S. I haven't the most distant idea. 
 It can't be Sir Benjamin' Backbite ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh no ! What say you to 
 Charles ? 
 
 Joseph S. My brother ! impossible ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh ! my dear friend, the goodness 
 of your own heart misleads you. You judge of 
 others by yourself. 
 
 Joseph S. Certainly, Sir Peter, the heart that 
 is conscious of its own integrity is ever slow to 
 credit another's treachery.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL iz 7 
 
 Sir Peter T. True but your brother has no 
 sentiment you never hear him talk so. 
 
 Joseph S. Yet, I can't but think Lady Teazle 
 herself has too much principle. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, but what is principle 
 against the flattery of a handsome, lively young 
 fellow ? 
 
 Joseph S. That's very true. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And there's, you know, the 
 difference of our ages makes it very improbable 
 that she should have any very great affection 
 for me ; and if she were to be frail, and I were 
 to make it public, why the town would only 
 laugh at me, the foolish old bachelor, who had 
 married a girl. 
 
 Joseph S. That's true, to be sure they would 
 laugh. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Laugh ay, and make ballads, 
 and paragraphs, and the devil knows what of me. 
 
 Joseph S. No you must never make it public. 
 
 Sir Peter T. -But then again that the nephew 
 of my old friend, Sir Oliver, should be the person 
 to attempt such a wrong, hurts me more nearly. 
 
 Joseph S. Ay, there's the point. When in- 
 gratitude barbs the dart of injury, the wound has 
 double danger in it. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay I, that was, in a manner, 
 left his guardian : in whose house he had been 
 
 O 
 
 so often entertained ; who never in my life denied 
 him my advice. 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, 'tis not to be credited. There 
 may be a man capable of such baseness, to be 
 sure ; but, for my part, till you can give me
 
 i28 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 positive proofs, I cannot but doubt it. However, 
 if it should be proved on him, he is no longer 
 a brother of mine I disclaim kindred with him : 
 for the man who can break the laws of hospitality, 
 and tempt the wife of his friend, deserves to be 
 branded as the pest of society. 
 
 Sir Peter T. What a difference there is between 
 you ! What noble sentiments ! 
 
 Joseph S. Yet, I cannot suspect Lady Teazle's 
 honour. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I am sure I wish to think well 
 of her, and to remove all ground of quarrel 
 between us. She has lately reproached me more 
 than once with having made no settlement on 
 her ; and, in our last quarrel, she almost hinted 
 that she should not break her heart if I was dead. 
 Now, as we seem to differ in our ideas of expense, 
 I have resolved she shall have her own way, and 
 be her own mistress in that respect for the future ; 
 and if I were to die, she will find I have not 
 been inattentive to her interest while living. 
 Here, my friend, are the drafts of two deeds, 
 which I wish to have your opinion on. By one, 
 she will enjoy eight hundred a year independent 
 while I live ; and, by the other, the bulk of my 
 fortune at my death. 
 
 Joseph S. This conduct, Sir Peter, is indeed 
 
 truly generous. 1 wish it may not corrupt my 
 
 pupil. [Aside. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, I am determined she shall 
 have no cause to complain, though I would not 
 have her acquainted with the latter instance of 
 my affection yet awhile.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 129 
 
 Joseph S. Nor I, if I could help it. [Aside. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And now, my dear friend, if you 
 please, we will talk over the situation of your 
 affairs with Maria. 
 
 Josephs. \_Softly.~] Oh, no, Sir Peter ; another 
 time, if you please. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I am sensibly chagrined at the 
 little progress you seem to make in her affections. 
 
 Joseph S. I beg you will not mention it. 
 What are my disappointments when your happi- 
 ness is in debate ! [Softly J\ 'Sdeath, I shall be 
 ruined every way. [Aside. 
 
 .Sir Peter T. And though you are so averse to 
 my acquainting Lady Teazle with your passion for 
 Maria, I'm sure she's not your enemy in the affair. 
 
 Joseph S. Pray, Sir Peter, now, oblige me. 
 I am really too much affected by the subject we 
 have been speaking of, to bestow a thought on 
 my own concerns. The man who is entrusted 
 with his friend's distresses can never 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Well, sir? 
 
 Ser-v. Your brother, sir, is speaking to a gentle- 
 man in the street, and says he knows you are within. 
 
 Joseph S. 'Sdeath, blockhead, I'm not within 
 I'm out for the day. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Stay hold a thought has struck 
 me : you shall be at home. 
 
 Joseph S. Well, well, let him up. [Exit 
 SERVANT.] He'll interrupt Sir Peter, however. 
 
 [Aside.
 
 1 30 SHERIDAN'SPLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Sir Peter T. Now, my good friend, oblige me, 
 I entreat you. Before Charles comes, Jet me 
 conceal myself somewhere then do you tax 
 him on the point we have been talking, and his 
 answer may satisfy me at once. 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, fie, Sir Peter ! would you have 
 me join in so mean a trick ? to trepan my 
 brother too ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Nay, you tell me you are sure 
 he is innocent ; if so, you do him the greatest 
 service by giving him an opportunity to clear 
 himself, and you will set my heart at rest. Come, 
 you shall not refuse me : here, behind this screen 
 will be Hey ! what the devil ! there seems to be 
 one listener there already I'll swear I saw a 
 petticoat ! 
 
 Joseph S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, this is ridiculous 
 enough. I'll tell you, Sir Peter, though I hold a 
 man of intrigue to be a most despicable character, 
 yet, you know, it does not follow that one is to 
 be an absolute Joseph either ! Hark'ee, 'tis a 
 little French milliner a silly rogue that plagues 
 me, and having some character to lose, on 
 your coming, sir, she ran behind the screen. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! you rogue ! But, egad, she 
 has overheard all I have been saying of my wife. 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, 'twill never go any farther, you 
 may depend upon it. 
 
 Sir Peter T. No ! then, faith, let her hear it 
 out. Here's a closet will do as well. 
 
 Joseph S. Well, go in there. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Sly rogue ! sly rogue ! 
 
 [Going into the closet.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 131 
 
 Joseph S, A narrow escape, indeed ! and a 
 curious situation I'm in, to part man and wife in 
 this manner. 
 
 Lady T. \_Peeping.~] Couldn't I steal off? 
 
 Joseph S. Keep close, my angel ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. [Peeping.~\ Joseph, tax him 
 home. 
 
 Joseph S. Back, my dear friend ! 
 
 Lady T. Couldn't you lock Sir Peter in ? 
 
 Joseph S. Be still, my life ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. \_Peeping.~\ You're sure the little 
 milliner won't blab ? 
 
 Joseph S. In, in, my good Sir Peter. 'Fore 
 gad, I wish I had a key to the door. 
 
 Enter CHARLES SURFACE 
 
 Charles S. Holla ! brother, what has been the 
 matter ? Your fellow would not let me up at 
 first. What ! have you had a Jew or a wench 
 with you? 
 
 Joseph S. Neither, brother, I assure you. 
 
 Charles S. But what has made Sir Peter steal 
 off? I thought he had been with you. 
 
 Joseph S. He was, brother ; but hearing you 
 were coming, he did not choose to stay. 
 
 Charles S. What ! was the old gentleman 
 afraid I wanted to borrow money of him ? 
 
 Joseph S. No, sir : but I am sorry to find, 
 Charles, you have lately given that worthy man 
 grounds for great uneasiness. 
 
 Charles S. Yes, they tell me I do that to a 
 great many worthy men. But how so, pray ?
 
 1 3 2 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Joseph S. To be plain with you, brother- 
 he thinks you are endeavouring to gain Lady 
 Teazle's affections from him. 
 
 Charles S. Who, I ? O Lud ! not I, upon my 
 
 word. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! so the old fellow has 
 
 found out that he has got a young wife, has he ? 
 
 or, what is worse, Lady Teazle has found out 
 
 she has an old husband ? 
 
 Joseph S. This is no subject to jest on, brother. 
 He who can laugh 
 
 Charles S. True, true, as you were going to 
 say then, seriously, I never had the least idea 
 of what you charge me with, upon my honour. 
 
 Joseph S. Well, it will give Sir Peter great 
 satisfaction to hear this. \_Aloud. 
 
 Charles S. To be sure, I once thought the 
 lady seemed to have taken a fancy to me ; but, 
 upon my soul, I never gave her the least en- 
 couragement : besides, you know my attachment 
 to Maria. 
 
 Joseph S. But sure, brother, even if Lady 
 Teazle had betrayed the fondest partiality for 
 you 
 
 Charles S. Why, look'ee, Joseph, I hope I 
 shall never deliberately do a dishonourable action ; 
 but if a pretty woman was purposely to throw 
 herself in my way and that pretty woman 
 married to a man old enough to be her father 
 
 Joseph S. Well ! 
 
 Charles S. Why, I believe I should be obliged 
 to borrow a little of your morality, that's all. 
 But, brother, do you know now that you sur- 
 prise me exceedingly, by naming me with Lady
 
 sc. m THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 133 
 
 Teazle ; for, 'faith, I always understood you were 
 her favourite. 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, for shame, Charles ! This retort 
 is foolish. 
 
 Charles S. Nay, I swear I have seen you ex- 
 change such significant glances 
 
 Joseph S. Nay, nay, sir, this is no jest. 
 
 Charles S. Egad, I'm serious. Don't you re- 
 member one day when I called here 
 
 Joseph S. Nay, prithee, Charles 
 
 Charles S. And found you together 
 
 Joseph S. Zounds, sir ! I insist 
 . Charles S. And another time when your 
 servant 
 
 Joseph S. Brother, brother, a word with you ! 
 Gad, I must stop him. [Aside. 
 
 Charles S. Informed, I say, that 
 
 Joseph S. Hush ! I beg your pardon, but Sir 
 Peter has overheard all we have been saying. I 
 knew you would clear yourself, or I should not 
 have consented. 
 
 Charles S. How, Sir Peter ! Where is he ? 
 
 Joseph S. Softly ; there ! [Points to the closet. 
 
 Charles S. Oh, 'fore Heaven, I'll have him out. 
 Sir Peter, come forth ! 
 
 Joseph S. No, no 
 
 Charles S. I say, Sir Peter, come into court. 
 [Pulls in Sir PETER.] What! my old guardian! 
 What ! turn inquisitor, and take evidence 
 incog. ? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Give me your hand, Charles 
 I believe I have suspected you wrongfully ; but 
 you mustn't be angry with Joseph 'twas my plan!
 
 i 3 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT IV 
 
 Charles S. Indeed ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. But I acquit you. I promise you 
 I don't think near so ill of you as I did : what 
 I have heard has given me great satisfaction. 
 
 Charles S. Egad, then, 'twas lucky you didn't 
 hear any more wasn't it, Joseph ? 
 
 \_Apart to JOSEPH. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah ! you would have retorted 
 on him. 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, that was a joke. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, I know his honour too 
 well. 
 
 Charles S. But you might as well have sus- 
 pected him as me in this matter, for all that 
 mightn't he, Joseph ? [Apart to JOSEPH. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, well, I believe you. 
 
 Joseph S. Would they were both well out of 
 the room ! [Aside. 
 
 Enter SERVANT, and whispers JOSEPH SURFACE 
 
 Sir Peter T. And in future perhaps we may 
 not be such strangers. 
 
 Joseph S. Gentlemen, I beg pardon I must 
 wait on you downstairs : here is a person come 
 on particular business. 
 
 Charles S. Well, you can see him in another 
 room. Sir Peter and I have not met a long time, 
 and I have something to say to him. 
 
 Joseph S. They must not be left together. 
 [Aside. ~\ I'll send this . man away, and return 
 directly. Sir Peter, not a word of the French 
 milliner. \_Apart to Sir PETER, and goes out.
 
 Sir P. HuA !- a Unit French milliner . . Ms ; the ro
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 137 
 
 Sir Peter T. I ! not for the world ! \_Slpart to 
 JOSEPH.] Ah ! Charles, if you associated more 
 with your brother, one might indeed hope for 
 your reformation. He is a man of sentiment. 
 Well, there is nothing in the world so noble as a 
 man of sentiment ! 
 
 Charles S. Pshaw ! he is too moral by half 
 and so apprehensive of his good name, as he calls 
 it, that I suppose he would as soon let a priest into 
 his house as a girl. 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, no, come, come, you wrong 
 him. No, no ! Joseph is no rake, but he is no 
 such saint either in that respect. I have a 
 great mind to tell him we should have a laugh 
 at Joseph. \Aside. 
 
 Charles S. Oh, hang him ! He's a very an- 
 chorite, a young hermit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hark'ee you must not abuse 
 him : he may chance to hear of it again, I promise 
 you. 
 
 Charles S. Why, you won't tell him? 
 
 Sir Peter T. No but this way. Egad, I'll 
 tell him. \_Aside.~] Hark'ee have you a mind 
 to have a good laugh at Joseph ? 
 
 Charles S. I should like it of all things. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Then, i'faith, we will I'll be quit 
 with him for discovering me. He had a girl with 
 him when I called. 
 
 Charles S. What ! Joseph ? you jest. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hush ! a little French milliner 
 and the best of the jest is she's in the room now. 
 
 Charles S. The devil she is ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hush ! I tell you ! [Points.
 
 138 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Charles S. Behind the screen ! 'Slife, Jet's unveil 
 her! 
 
 Sir Peter T. No, no he's coming you shan't, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Charles S. Oh, egad, we'll have a peep at the 
 little milliner ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Not for the world Joseph will 
 never forgive me. 
 
 Charles S. I'll stand by you 
 
 Sir Peter T. Odds, here he is ! 
 
 [JOSEPH SURFACE enters just as CHARLES 
 SURFACE throws down the screen. 
 
 Charles S. Lady Teazle, by all that's won- 
 derful ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Lady Teazle, by all that's damnable ! 
 
 Charles S. Sir Peter, this is one of the smartest 
 French milliners I ever saw. Egad, you seem all 
 to have been diverting yourselves here at hide and 
 seek, and I don't see who is out of the secret. 
 Shall I beg your ladyship to inform me ? Not a 
 word ! Brother, will you be pleased to explain 
 this matter ? What ! is Morality dumb too ? Sir 
 Peter, though I found you in the dark, perhaps 
 you are not so now ! All mute ! Well though 
 I can make nothing of the affair, I suppose you 
 perfectly understand one another so I'll leave you 
 to yourselves [GoingJ] Brother, I'm sorry to 
 find you have given that worthy man cause for so 
 much uneasiness. Sir Peter ! there's nothing in 
 the world so noble as a man of sentiment ! 
 
 [Exit CHARLES. 
 
 [1'hey stand for some lime looking at each 
 other.
 
 '> /Y/ ' 'A\T s . ': 
 
 H i ( ; 'JS^ t..< 
 
 Sir P. Lady Teazle, by all that's damnable.'
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 141 
 
 Joseph S. Sir Peter notwithstanding I con- 
 fess that appearances are against me if you will 
 afford me your patience I make no doubt but I 
 shall explain everything to your satisfaction. 
 
 Sir Peter T. If you please, sir. 
 
 Joseph S. The fact is, sir, that Lady Teazle, 
 knowing my pretensions to your ward Maria 
 I say, sir, Lady Teazle, being apprehensive of 
 the jealousy of your temper and knowing my 
 friendship to the family she, sir, I say called 
 here in order that I might explain these pre- 
 tensions but on your coming being apprehensive 
 as I said of your jealousy she withdrew and 
 this, you may depend on it, is the whole truth of 
 the matter. 
 
 Sir Peter T. A very clear account, upon my 
 word ; and I dare swear the lady will vouch for 
 every article of it. 
 
 Lady T. For not one word of it, Sir Peter ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. How ! don't you think it worth 
 while to agree in" the lie ? 
 
 Lady T. There is not one syllable of truth in 
 what that gentleman has told you. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I believe you, upon my soul, ma'am ! 
 
 Joseph S. [Aside.~] 'Sdeath, madam, will you 
 betray me ? 
 
 Lady T. Good Mr. Hypocrite, by your leave, 
 I'll speak for myself. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, let her alone, sir ; you'll find 
 she'll make out a better story than you, without 
 prompting. 
 
 Lady T. Hear me, Sir Peter ! I came hither on 
 no matter relating to your ward, and even ignorant
 
 142 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 of this gentleman's pretensions to her. But I came 
 seduced by his insidious arguments, at Jeast to 
 listen to his pretended passion, if not to sacrifice 
 your honour to his baseness. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Now, I believe, the truth is 
 coming indeed ! 
 
 Joseph S. The woman's mad ! 
 
 Lady T. No, sir, she has recovered her senses, 
 and your own arts have furnished her with the 
 means. Sir Peter, I do not expect you to credit 
 me but the tenderness you expressed for me, 
 when I am sure you could not think I was a 
 witness to it, has penetrated so to my heart, that 
 had I left the place without the shame of this 
 discovery, my future life should have spoken the 
 sincerity of my gratitude. As for that smooth- 
 tongued hypocrite, who would have seduced the 
 wife of his too credulous friend, while he affected 
 honourable addresses to his ward I behold him 
 now in a light so truly despicable, that I shall 
 never again respect myself for having listened to 
 him. [Exit Lady TEAZLE. 
 
 Joseph S. Notwithstanding all this, Sir Peter, 
 Heaven knows 
 
 Sir Peter T. That you are a villain ! and so I 
 leave you to your conscience. 
 
 Joseph S. You are too rash, Sir Peter ; you 
 shall hear me. The man who shuts out con- 
 viction by refusing to 
 
 [Exeunt Sir PETER and SURFACE talking.
 
 ACT V 
 
 SCENE I. The Library 
 Enter JOSEPH SURFACE and SERVANT 
 
 Joseph S. Mr. Stanley ! and why should you 
 think I would see him ? you must know he comes 
 to ask something. 
 
 Serv. Sir, I should not have let him in, but 
 that Mr. Rowley came to the door with him. 
 
 Joseph S. Pshaw ! blockhead ! to suppose that 
 I should now be in a temper to receive visits from 
 poor relations ! Well, why don't you show the 
 fellow up ? 
 
 Serv. I will, sir. Why, sir, it was not my 
 
 fault that Sir Peter discovered my lady 
 
 Joseph S. Go, fool ! [Exit SERVANT.] Sure 
 Fortune never played a man of my policy such 
 a trick before. My character with Sir Peter, my 
 hopes with Maria, destroyed in a moment ! I'm 
 in a rare humour to listen to other people's dis- 
 tresses ! I shan't be able to bestow even a bene- 
 volent sentiment on Stanley. So ! here he comes, 
 and Rowley with him. I must try to recover
 
 144 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 myself, and put a little charity into my face, 
 however. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Sir OLIVER SURFACE and ROWLEY 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What ! does he avoid us ? That 
 was he, was it not? 
 
 Rowley. It was, sir. But I doubt you are come 
 a little too abruptly. His nerves are so weak, that 
 the sight of a poor relation may be too much for 
 him. I should have gone first to break it to him. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh, plague of his nerves ! Yet 
 this is he whom Sir Peter extols as a man of the 
 most benevolent way of thinking! 
 
 Rowley. As to his way of thinking, I cannot 
 pretend to decide ; for, to do him justice, he 
 appears to have as much speculative benevolence 
 as any private gentleman in the kingdom, though 
 he is seldom so sensual as to indulge himself in 
 the exercise of it. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yet has a string of charitable 
 sentiments at his fingers' ends. 
 
 Rowley. Or rather, at his tongue's end, Sir 
 Oliver ; for I believe there is no sentiment he has 
 such faith in as that " Charity begins at home." 
 
 Sir Oliver S. And his, I presume, is of that 
 domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all. 
 
 Rowley. I doubt you'll find it so ; but he's 
 coming. I mustn't seem to interrupt you ; and 
 you know immediately as you leave him, I come 
 in to announce your arrival in your real character. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. True ; and afterwards you'll 
 meet me at Sir Peter's.
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 14.5 
 
 Rowley. Without losing a moment. [Exif. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I don't like the complaisance of 
 his features. 
 
 Enter JOSEPH SURFACE 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons 
 for keeping you a moment waiting - Mr. 
 Stanley, I presume. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. At your service. 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, I beg you will do me the honour 
 to sit down I entreat you, sir ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Dear sir there's no occasion 
 
 too civil by half! \_Aside. 
 
 Joseph S. I have not the pleasure of knowing 
 you, Mr. Stanley ; but I am extremely happy to 
 see you look so well. You were nearly related to 
 my mother, I think, Mr. Stanley ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I was, sir ; so nearly that my 
 present poverty, I fear, may do discredit to her 
 wealthy children, else I should not have presumed 
 to trouble you. 
 
 Joseph S. Dear sir, there needs no apology : 
 
 he that is in distress, though a stranger, has 
 
 a right to claim kindred with the wealthy. I 
 
 am sure I wish I was of that class, and had it in 
 
 my power to offer you even a small relief. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. If your uncle, Sir Oliver, were 
 here, I should have a friend. 
 
 Joseph S. I wish he was, sir, with all my heart : 
 you should not want an advocate with him, 
 believe me, sir. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I should not need one my 
 
 L
 
 146 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 distresses would recommend me. But I imagined 
 his bounty would enable you to become the agent 
 of his charity. 
 
 Joseph S. My dear sir, you were strangely 
 misinformed. Sir Oliver is a worthy man, a very 
 worthy man ; but avarice, Mr. Stanley, is the 
 vice of age. I will tell you, my good sir, in 
 confidence, what he has done for me has been 
 a mere nothing ; though people, I know, have 
 thought otherwise, and, for my part, I never 
 chose to contradict the report. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What ! has he never transmitted 
 you bullion rupees pagodas ? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, dear sir, nothing of the kind : 
 No, no a few presents now and then 
 china, shawls, congou tea, avadavats, and Indian 
 crackers little more, believe me. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Here's gratitude for twelve 
 thousand pounds ! Avadavats and Indian 
 crackers ! \_Aside. 
 
 Joseph S. Then, my dear sir, you have heard, 
 I doubt not, of the extravagance of my brother : 
 there are very few would credit what I have done 
 for that unfortunate young man. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Not I, for one ! [Aside. 
 
 Joseph S. The sums I have lent him ! Indeed 
 I have been exceedingly to blame ; it was an 
 amiable weakness : however, I don't pretend to 
 defend it, -and now I feel it doubly culpable, 
 since it has deprived me of the pleasure of 
 serving you, Mr. Stanley, as my heart dictates. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Dissembler ! \_Aside.~] Then, 
 sir, you can't assist me?
 
 sc. i THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL i 47 
 
 Joseph S. At present, it grieves me to say, I 
 cannot ; but, whenever I have the ability, you 
 may depend upon hearing from me. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I am extremely sorry 
 
 Joseph S. Not more than I, believe me ; to 
 pity without the power to relieve, is still more 
 painful than to ask and be denied. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Kind sir, your most obedient 
 humble servant. 
 
 Joseph S. You leave me deeply affected, Mr. 
 Stanley. William, be ready to open the door. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh, dear sir, no ceremony. 
 
 Joseph S. Your very obedient. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sir, your most obsequious. 
 
 Joseph S. You may depend upon hearing 
 from me, whenever I can be of service. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sweet sir, you are too good ! 
 
 Joseph S. In the meantime I wish you health 
 and spirits. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Your ever grateful and perpetual 
 humble servant. 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, yours as sincerely. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Charles, you are my heir ! 
 
 \_Aside. Exit. 
 
 Joseph S. This is one bad effect of a good 
 character ; it invites application from the un- 
 fortunate, and there needs no small degree of 
 address to gain the reputation of benevolence 
 without incurring the expense. The silver ore of 
 pure charity is an expensive article in the catalogue 
 of a man's good qualities ; whereas the sentimental 
 French plate I use instead of it makes just as 
 good a show, and pays no tax.
 
 148 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Enter ROWLEY 
 
 Rowley. Mr. Surface, your servant : I was 
 apprehensive of interrupting you, though my 
 business demands immediate attention, as this 
 note will inform you. 
 
 Joseph S. Always happy to see Mr. Rowley. 
 [Reads the letter.'] Sir Oliver Surface! -My 
 uncle arrived ! 
 
 Rowley. He is, indeed : we have just parted 
 quite well, after a speedy voyage, and im- 
 patient to embrace his worthy nephew. 
 
 Joseph S. I am astonished ! William ! stop 
 Mr. Stanley, if he's not gone. 
 
 Rowley. Oh ! he's out of reach, I believe. 
 
 Joseph S. Why did you not let me know this 
 when you came in together ? 
 
 Rowley. I thought you had particular business ; 
 but I must be gone to inform your brother, 
 and appoint him here to meet your uncle. He 
 will be with you in a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Joseph S. So he says. Well, I am strangely 
 overjoyed at his coming. Never, to be sure, 
 was anything so damned unlucky. [Aside. 
 
 Rowley. You will be delighted to see how well 
 he looks. 
 
 Joseph S. Ah ! I'm rejoiced to hear it- 
 Just at this time ! [Aside. 
 
 Rowley. I'll tell him how impatiently you 
 expect him. 
 
 "Joseph S. Do, do ; pray give my best duty 
 and affection. Indeed, I cannot express the sensa-
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL i 49 
 
 tions I feel at the thought of seeing him. 
 [Exit ROWLEY.] Certainly his coming just at 
 this time is the cruellest piece of ill-fortune ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Sir PETER TEAZLE'S 
 
 Enter Mrs. CANDOUR and MAID 
 
 Maid. Indeed, ma'am, my Jady will see nobody 
 at present. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Did you tell her it was her friend 
 Mrs. Candour? 
 
 Maid. Yes, ma'am ; but she begs you will 
 excuse her. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Do go again, I shall be glad to 
 see her, if it be only for a moment, for I am 
 sure she must be in great distress. [Exit MAID.] 
 Dear heart, how provoking ! I'm not mistress 
 of half the circumstances ! We shall have the 
 whole affair in the newspapers, with the names of 
 the parties at length, before I have dropped the 
 story at a dozen houses. 
 
 Enter Sir BENJAMIN BACKBITE 
 
 Oh, Sir Benjamin ! you have heard, I suppose 
 Sir Eenj. B. Of Lady Teazle and Mr. Surface 
 Mrs. Can. And Sir Peter's discovery 
 Sir Betij. B. Oh ! the strangest piece of business, 
 
 to be sure ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. Well, I never was so surprised in 
 
 my life. I am so sorry for all parties, indeed.
 
 1 5 o SHERIDANTS PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Now, I don't pity Sir Peter 
 at all : he was so extravagantly partial to Mr. 
 Surface. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Mr. Surface ! Why, 'twas with 
 Charles Lady Teazle was detected. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. No, no, I tell you Mr. Surface 
 is the gallant. 
 
 Mrs. Can. No such thing ! Charles is the 
 man. 'Twas Mr. Surface brought Sir Peter on 
 purpose to discover them. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. I tell you I had it from one 
 
 Mrs. Can. And I have it from one 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Who had it from one, who had 
 
 Mrs. Can. From one immediately but here 
 comes Lady Sneerwell ; perhaps she knows the 
 whole affair. 
 
 Enter Lady SNEERWELL 
 
 Lady Sneer. So, my dear Mrs. Candour, here's 
 a sad affair of our friend Lady Teazle. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ay, my dear friend, who would 
 have thought - 
 
 Lady Sneer. Well, there is no trusting appear- 
 ances ; though, indeed, she was always too lively 
 for me. 
 
 Mrs. Can. To be sure, her manners were a 
 little too free : but then she was so young ! 
 
 Lady Sneer. And had, indeed, some good 
 qualities. 
 
 Mrs. Can. So she had, indeed. But have you 
 heard the particulars?
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 151 
 
 Lady Sneer. No ; but everybody says that 
 Mr. Surface 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Ay, there ; I told you Mr. 
 Surface was the man. 
 
 Mrs. Can. No, no : indeed the assignation was 
 with Charles. 
 
 Lady Sneer. With Charles ! You alarm me, 
 Mrs. Candour ! 
 
 Mrs. Can. Yes, yes, he was the lover. Mr. 
 Surface, to do him justice, was only the informer. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Well, I'll not dispute with you, 
 Mrs. Candour ; but, be it which it may, I hope 
 that vSir Peter's wound will not 
 
 Mrs. Can. Sir Peter's wound ! Oh, mercy ! I 
 didn't hear a word of their righting. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Nor I, a syllable. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. No ! what, no mention of the 
 duel? 
 
 Mrs. Can. Not a word. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Oh, yes : they fought before they 
 left the room. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Pray, let us hear. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ay, do oblige us with the duel. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. "Sir," says Sir Peter, immediately 
 after the discovery, "you are a most ungrateful 
 fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ay, to Charles 
 
 Sir Benj. B. No, no to Mr. Surface "a 
 most ungrateful fellow ; and old as I am, sir," 
 says he, " I insist on immediate satisfaction." 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ay, that must have been to Charles; 
 for 'tis very unlikely Mr. Surface should fight in 
 his own house.
 
 1 52 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Gad's life, ma'am, not at all 
 " Giving me immediate satisfaction." On this, 
 ma'am, Lady Teazle, seeing Sir Peter in such 
 danger, ran out of the room in strong hysterics, 
 and Charles after her, calling out for hartshorn 
 and water ; then, madam, they began to fight 
 with swords 
 
 Enter CRABTREE 
 
 Crabt. With pistols, nephew pistols: I have 
 it from undoubted authority. 
 
 Mrs. Can. O, Mr. Crabtree, then it is all true ! 
 
 Crabt. Too true, indeed, madam, and Sir 
 Peter is dangerously wounded 
 
 Sir Benj. B. By a thrust in second quite 
 through his left side 
 
 Crabt. By a bullet lodged in the thorax. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Mercy on me ! Poor Sir Peter ! 
 
 Crabt. Yes, madam ; though Charles would 
 have avoided the matter, if he could. 
 
 Mrs. Can. I knew Charles was the person. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. My uncle, I see, knows nothing 
 of the matter. 
 
 Crabt. But Sir Peter taxed him with the 
 basest ingratitude. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. That I told you, you know 
 
 Crabt. Do, nephew, let me speak ! and in- 
 sisted on immediate 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Just as I said 
 
 Crabt. Odds life, nephew, allow others to 
 know something too. A pair of pistols Jay on 
 the bureau (for Mr. Surface, it seems, had come
 
 sc. n THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 153 
 
 home the night before late from Salthill, where 
 he had been to see the Montem with a friend, 
 who has a son at Eton), so, unluckily, the pistols 
 were left charged. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. I heard nothing of this. 
 
 Crabt. Sir Peter forced Charles to take one, 
 and they fired, it seems, pretty nearly together. 
 Charles's shot took effect, as I tell you, and Sir 
 Peter's missed ; but what is very extraordinary, 
 the ball struck against a little bronze Shakspeare 
 that stood over the fireplace, grazed out of the 
 window at a right angle, and wounded the post- 
 man, who was just coming to the door with a 
 double letter from Northamptonshire. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. My uncle's account is more cir- 
 cumstantial, I confess ; but I believe mine is the 
 true one, for all that. 
 
 Lady Sneer. I am more interested in this affair 
 than they imagine, and must have better informa- 
 tion. [Aside. Exit Lady SNEER WELL. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Ah ! Lady Sneerwell's alarm is 
 very easily accounted for. 
 
 Crabt. Yes, yes, they certainly do say but 
 that's neither here nor there. 
 
 Mrs. Can. But, pray, where is Sir Peter at 
 present ? 
 
 Crabt. Oh ! they brought him home, and he 
 is now in the house, though the servants are 
 ordered to deny him. 
 
 Mrs. Can. I believe so, and Lady Teazle, I 
 suppose, attending him. 
 
 Crabt. Yes, yes ; and I saw one of the faculty 
 enter j ust before me.
 
 i S 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Hey ! who comes here ? 
 
 Crabt. Oh, this is he : the physician, depend 
 on't. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Oh, certainly : it must be the phy- 
 sician ; and now we shall know. 
 
 Enter Sir OLIVER SURFACE 
 
 Crabt. Well, doctor, what hopes? 
 
 Mrs. Can. Ay, doctor, how's your patient ? 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Now, doctor, isn't it a wound 
 with a small sword? 
 
 Crabt. A bullet lodged in the thorax, for a 
 hundred. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Doctor ! a wound with a small 
 sword ! and a bullet in the thorax ! Oons ! are 
 you mad, good people ? 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Perhaps, sir, you are not a 
 doctor ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Truly, I am to thank you for 
 my degree if I am. 
 
 Crabt. Only a friend of Sir Peter's, then, I 
 presume. But, sir, you must have heard of his 
 accident ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Not a word ! 
 
 Crabt. Not of his being dangerously wounded ? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. The devil he is ! 
 
 Sir Benj. B. Run through the body 
 
 Crabt. Shot in the breast 
 
 Sir Benj. B. By one Mr. Surface 
 
 Crabt. Ay, the younger. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Hey ! what the plague ! you 
 seem to differ strangely in your accounts : how-
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 155 
 
 ever, you agree that Sir Peter is dangerously 
 wounded. 
 
 Sir Eenj. B. Oh, yes, we agree there. 
 
 Crabt. Yes, yes, I believe there can be no 
 doubt of that. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Then, upon my word, for a 
 person in that situation, he is the most imprudent 
 man alive ; for here he comes, walking as if 
 nothing at all was the matter. 
 
 Enter Sir PETER TEAZLE 
 
 Odds heart, Sir Peter, you are come in good time, 
 I promise you ; for we had just given you over. 
 
 Sir Eenj. B. Egad, uncle, this is the most 
 sudden recovery ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Why, man, what do you out of 
 bed with a small sword through your body, and 
 a bullet lodged in your thorax? 
 
 Sir Peter T. A small sword, and a bullet ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ay, these gentlemen would 
 have killed you without law, or physic, and 
 wanted to dub me a doctor, to make me an 
 accomplice. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Why, what is all this ? 
 
 Sir Eenj. B. We rejoice, Sir Peter, that the 
 story of the duel is not true, and are sincerely 
 sorry for your other misfortune. 
 
 Sir Peter T. So, so ; all over the town al- 
 ready. \_Aside. 
 
 Crabt. Though, Sir Peter, you were certainly 
 vastly to blame to marry at your years. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Sir, what business is that of yours ?
 
 156 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Mrs. Can. Though, indeed, as Sir Peter 
 made so good a husband, he's very much to be 
 pitied. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Plague on your pity, ma'am ! I 
 desire none of it. 
 
 Sir Benj. B. However, Sir Peter, you must 
 not mind the laughing and jests you will meet 
 with on the occasion. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Sir, sir, I desire to be master in 
 my own house. 
 
 Crabt. 'Tis no uncommon case, that's one 
 comfort. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I insist on being left to myself: 
 without ceremony I insist on your leaving my 
 house directly. 
 
 Mrs. Can. Well, well, we are going, and 
 depend on't we'll make the best report of it we 
 can. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Leave my house ! 
 
 Crabt. And tell how hardly you've been 
 treated. [Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Leave my house ! 
 
 Sir Benj. B. And how patiently you bear it. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Fiends ! vipers ! furies ! Oh ! 
 that their own venom would choke them ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. They are very provoking, in- 
 deed, Sir Peter. 
 
 Enter ROWLEY 
 
 Rowley. I heard high words : what has ruffled 
 you, sir?
 
 Sir P. Fiends .' -vipers ! furies /
 
 sc. H THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 159 
 
 Sir Peter T. Pshaw ! what signifies asking ? Do 
 I ever pass a day without my vexations ? 
 
 Rowley. Well, I'm not inquisitive. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, Sir Peter, I have seen both 
 my nephews in the manner we proposed. 
 
 Sir Peter T. A precious couple they are ! 
 
 Rowley. Yes, and Sir Oliver is convinced that 
 your judgment was right, Sir Peter. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, I find Joseph is indeed the 
 man, after all. 
 
 Rowley. Ay, as Sir Peter says, he is a man of 
 sentiment. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. And acts up to the sentiments 
 he professes. 
 
 Row/ev. It certainly is edification to hear him 
 talk. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh, he's a model for the young 
 men of the age ! But how's this, Sir Peter ? 
 you don't join us in your friend Joseph's praise, 
 as I expected. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Sir Oliver, we live in a damned 
 wicked world, and the fewer we praise the better. 
 
 Rowley. What ! do you say so, Sir Peter, who 
 were never mistaken in your life? 
 
 Sir Peter T. Pshaw ! Plague on you both ! 
 I see by your sneering you have heard the whole 
 affair. I shall go mad among you ! 
 
 Rowley. Then, to fret you no longer, Sir Peter, 
 we are indeed acquainted with it all. I met Lady 
 Teazle coming from Mr. Surface's, so humbled, 
 that she deigned to request me to be her advocate 
 with you. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And does Sir Oliver know all this?
 
 160 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Every circumstance. 
 
 Sir Peter T. What, of the closet and the screen, 
 hey? 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Yes, yes, and the little French 
 milliner. Oh, I have been vastly diverted with 
 the story ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. 'Twas very pleasant. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. I never laughed more in my life, 
 I assure you : ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh, vastly diverting ! Ha ! ha ! 
 ha! 
 
 Rowley. To be sure, Joseph with his senti- 
 ments : ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, his sentiments ! Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! Hypocritical villain ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ay, and that rogue Charles to 
 pull Sir Peter out of the closet : ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ha ! ha ! 'twas devilish enter- 
 taining, to be sure ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Egad, Sir Peter, 
 I should like to have seen your face when the 
 screen was thrown down : ha ! ha ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Yes, yes, my face when the screen 
 was thrown down : ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, I must 
 never show my head again ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. But come, come, it isn't fair to 
 laugh at you neither, my old friend ; though, 
 upon my soul, I can't help it. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oh, pray don't restrain your mirth 
 on my account : it does not hurt me at all ! I 
 laugh at the whole affair myself. Yes, yes, I think 
 being a standing jest for all one's acquaintance a 
 very happy situation. Oh, yes, and then of a
 
 sc. ii THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 161 
 
 morning to read the paragraphs about Mr. S , 
 
 Lady T , and Sir P ., will be so enter- 
 taining ! 
 
 Rowley. Without affectation, Sir Peter, you 
 may despise the ridicule of fools : but I see Lady 
 Teazle going towards the next room ; I am sure 
 you must desire a reconciliation as earnestly as she 
 does. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Perhaps my being here prevents 
 her coming to you. Well, I'll leave honest 
 Rowley to mediate between you ; but he must 
 bring you all presently to Mr. Surface's, where 
 I am now returning, if not to reclaim a libertine, 
 at least to expose hypocrisy. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ah, I'll be present at your dis- 
 covering yourself there with all my heart ; though 
 'tis a vile unlucky place for discoveries. 
 
 Rowley. We'll follow. [Exit Sir OLIVER. 
 
 Sir Peter T. She is not coming here, you see, 
 Rowley. 
 
 Rowley. No; but she has left the door of that 
 room open, you perceive. See, she is in tears. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Certainly a little mortification 
 appears very becoming in a wife. Don't you 
 think it will do her good to let her pine a little ? 
 
 Rowley. Oh, this is ungenerous in you ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, I know not what to think. 
 You remember the letter I found of hers evidently 
 intended for Charles ? 
 
 Rowley. A mere forgery, Sir Peter, laid in 
 your way on purpose. This is one of the points 
 which I intend Snake shall give you conviction of. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I wish I were once satisfied of 
 
 M
 
 1 62 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 that. She looks this way. What a remarkably 
 elegant turn of the head she has ! Rowley, I'll go 
 to her. 
 
 Rowley. Certainly. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Though when it is known that 
 we are reconciled, people will laugh at me ten 
 times more. 
 
 Rowley. Let them laugh, and retort their 
 malice only by showing them you are happy in 
 spite of it. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I'faith, so I will ! and, if I'm not 
 mistaken, we may yet be the happiest couple in 
 the country. 
 
 Rowley. Nay, Sir Peter, he who once lays aside 
 suspicion 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hold, Master Rowley ! if you 
 have any regard for me, never let me hear you 
 utter anything like a sentiment : I have had 
 enough of them to serve me the rest of my life. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. The Library 
 Enter JOSEPH SURFACE and Lady SNEERWELL 
 
 Lady Sneer. Impossible ! Will not Sir Peter 
 immediately be reconciled to Charles, and of course 
 no longer oppose his union with Maria? The 
 thought is distraction to me. 
 
 Joseph S. Can passion furnish a remedy ? 
 
 Lady Sneer. No, nor cunning neither. Oh ! 
 I was a fool, an idiot, to league with such a 
 blunderer !
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 163 
 
 Joseph S. Sure, Lady Sneer well, I am the 
 greatest sufferer ; yet you see I bear the accident 
 with calmness. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Because the disappointment doesn't 
 reach your heart ; your interest only attached you 
 to Maria. Had you felt for her what I have for 
 that ungrateful libertine, neither your temper nor 
 hypocrisy could prevent your showing the sharpness 
 of your vexation. 
 
 Joseph S. But why should your reproaches fall 
 on me for this disappointment ? 
 
 Lady Sneer. Are you not the cause of it ? 
 Had you not a sufficient field for your roguery 
 in imposing upon Sir Peter, and supplanting your 
 brother, but you must endeavour to seduce his 
 wife ? I hate such an avarice of crimes ; 'tis an 
 unfair monopoly, and never prospers. 
 
 Joseph S. Well, I admit I have been to blame. 
 I confess I deviated from the direct road of wrong, 
 but I don't think we're so totally defeated neither. 
 
 Lady Sneer'. No ! 
 
 Joseph S. You tell me you have made a trial 
 of Snake since we met, and that you still believe 
 him faithful to us. 
 
 Lady Sneer. I do believe so. 
 
 Joseph S. And that he has undertaken, should 
 it be necessary, to swear and prove, that Charles 
 is at this time contracted by vows and honour to 
 your ladyship, which some of his former letters to 
 you will serve to support. 
 
 Lady Sneer. This, indeed, might have assisted. 
 
 Joseph S. Come, come ; it is not too late yet. 
 [Knocking at the door.'} But hark ! this is probably
 
 164 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 my uncle, Sir Oliver : retire to that room ; we'll 
 consult further when he is gone. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Well, but if he should find you 
 out too ? 
 
 Joseph S. Oh, I have no fear of that. Sir 
 Peter will hold his tongue for his own credit's 
 sake and you may depend on it I shall soon 
 discover Sir Oliver's weak side ! 
 
 Lady S. I have no diffidence of your abilities ! 
 only be constant to one roguery at a time. 
 
 [Exit Lady SNEER WELL. 
 
 Joseph S. I will, I will. So ! 'tis confounded 
 hard, after such bad fortune, to be baited by 
 one's confederate in evil. Well, at all events my 
 character is so much better than Charles's, that I 
 
 certainly -hey ! what ! this is not Sir Oliver, 
 
 but old Stanley again. Plague on't that he should 
 return to tease me just now I shall have Sir 
 Oliver come and find him here and 
 
 Enter Sir OLIVER SURFACE 
 
 Gad's life, Mr. Stanley, why have you come back 
 to plague me at this time? You must not stay 
 now, upon my word. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sir, I hear your Uncle Oliver 
 is expected here, and though he has been so 
 penurious to you, I'll try what he'll do for me. 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, 'tis impossible for you to stay 
 now, so I must beg Come any other time, 
 
 and I promise you, you shall be assisted. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. No : Sir Oliver and I must be 
 acquainted.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 165 
 
 Joseph S. Zounds, sir ! then I insist on your 
 quitting the room directly. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Nay, sir 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, I insist on't : here, William ! 
 show this gentleman out. Since you compel me, 
 sir, not one moment this is such insolence ! 
 
 [Going to push him out. 
 
 Enter CHARLES SURFACE 
 
 Charles S. Hey day ! what's the matter now ? 
 What the devil, have you got hold of my little 
 broker here? Zounds, brother! don't hurt little 
 Premium. What's the matter, my little fellow ? 
 
 Joseph S. So ! he has been with you too, has he ? 
 
 Charles S. To be sure he has. Why he's as 
 
 honest a little But sure, Joseph, you have 
 
 not been borrowing money too, have you ? 
 
 Joseph S. Borrowing ! no ! But, brother, you 
 know we expect Sir Oliver here every 
 
 Charles S. O Gad, that's true ! Noll mustn't 
 find the little broker here, to be sure. 
 
 Joseph S. Yet Mr. Stanley insists 
 
 Charles S. Stanley ! why his name's Premium. 
 
 Joseph S. No, sir, Stanley. 
 
 Charles S. No, no, Premium. 
 
 Joseph S. Well, no matter which but 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, Stanley or Premium, 'tis 
 the same thing, as you say ; for I suppose he 
 goes by half a hundred names, besides A. B. at 
 the coffee-house. [Knocking. 
 
 Joseph S. 'Sdeath ! here's Sir Oliver at the 
 door. Now I beg, Mr. Stanley
 
 166 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Charles S. Ay, ay, and I beg, Mr. Premium 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Gentlemen 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, by heaven you shall go ! 
 
 Charles S. Ay, out with him, certainly ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. This violence 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, 'tis your own fault. 
 
 Charles S. Out with him, to be sure. 
 
 [Both forcing Sir OLIVER out. 
 
 Enter Sir PETER and Lady TEAZLE, MARIA, 
 and ROWLEY 
 
 Sir Peter T. My old friend, Sir Oliver hey ! 
 What in the name of wonder here are dutiful 
 nephews assault their uncle at a first visit ! 
 
 Lady T. Indeed, Sir Oliver, 'twas well we 
 came in to rescue you. 
 
 Rowley. Truly, it was ; for I perceive, Sir 
 Oliver, the character of old Stanley was no pro- 
 tection to you. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Nor of Premium either : the 
 necessities of the former could not extort a 
 shilling from that benevolent gentleman ; and now, 
 egad, I stood a chance of faring worse than my 
 ancestors, and being knocked down without being 
 bid for. 
 
 Joseph S. Charles ! 
 
 Charles S. Joseph ! 
 
 Joseph S. 'Tis now complete ! 
 
 Charles S. Very ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Sir Peter, my friend, and Rowley 
 too look on that elder nephew of mine. You 
 know what he has already received from my
 
 Charles. Out with Aim, to be sure.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 169 
 
 bounty ; and you also know how gladly I would 
 have regarded half my fortune as held in trust 
 for him : judge then my disappointment in dis- 
 covering him to be destitute of faith, charity, and 
 gratitude. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Sir Oliver, I should be more 
 surprised at this declaration, if I had not myself 
 found him to be mean, treacherous, and hypo- 
 critical. 
 
 Lady T. And if the gentleman pleads not 
 guilty to these, pray let him call me to his 
 character. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Then, I believe, we need add no 
 more : if he knows himself, he will consider it as 
 the most perfect punishment, that he is known to 
 the world. 
 
 Charles S. If they talk this way to honesty, 
 what will they say to me, by and by ? \_Aside. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. As for that prodigal, his brother, 
 there 
 
 Charles S. Ay, now comes my turn : the 
 damned family pictures will ruin me. \_Aside. 
 
 Joseph S. Sir Oliver uncle, will you honour 
 me with a hearing? 
 
 Charles S. Now if Joseph would make one 
 of his long speeches, I might recollect myself a 
 little. \Aside. 
 
 Sir Peter T. I suppose you would undertake to 
 justify yourself entirely ? [To JOSEPH. 
 
 Joseph S. I trust I could. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, sir! : and you could 
 justify yourself too, I suppose? 
 
 Charles S. Not that I know of, Sir Oliver.
 
 1 70 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Oliver S. What ! Little Premium has 
 been let too much into the secret, I suppose? 
 
 Charles S. True, sir ; but they were family 
 secrets, and should not be mentioned again, you 
 know. 
 
 Rowley. Come, Sir Oliver, I know you cannot 
 speak of Charles's follies with anger. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Odds heart, no more I can ; 
 nor with gravity either. Sir Peter, do you 
 know, the rogue bargained with me for all his 
 ancestors ; sold me judges and generals by the 
 foot, and maiden aunts as cheap as broken china. 
 
 Charles S. To be sure, Sir Oliver, I did make 
 a little free with the family canvas, that's the 
 truth on't. My ancestors may rise in judgment 
 against me, there's no denying it ; but believe 
 me sincere when I tell you and upon my soul 
 I would not say so if I was not that if I do not 
 appear mortified at the exposure of my follies, 
 it is because I feel at this moment the warmest 
 satisfaction in seeing you, my liberal benefactor. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Charles, I believe you ; give me 
 your hand again : the ill-looking little fellow over 
 the settee has made your peace. 
 
 Charles S. Then, sir, my gratitude to the 
 original is still increased. 
 
 Lady T. Yet, I believe, Sir Oliver, here is 
 one whom Charles is still more anxious to be 
 reconciled to. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Oh, I have heard of his attach- 
 ment there ; and, with the young lady's pardon, 
 if I construe right that blush 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, child, speak your sentiments !
 
 Enter Snake.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 173 
 
 Maria. Sir, I have little to say, but that I 
 shall rejoice to hear that he is happy ; for me 
 whatever claim I had to his affection, I willingly 
 resign to one who has a better title 
 
 Charles S. How, Maria ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hey day ! what's the mystery 
 now ? While he appeared an incorrigible rake, 
 you would give your hand to no one else ; and 
 now that he is likely to reform, I'll warrant you 
 won't have him. 
 
 Maria. His own heart and Lady Sneerwell 
 know the cause. 
 
 Charles S. Lady Sneerwell ! 
 
 Joseph S. Brother, it is with great concern I 
 am obliged to speak on this point, but my regard 
 to justice compels me, and Lady Sneerwell's 
 injuries can no longer be concealed. 
 
 [Opens the door. 
 
 Enter Lady SNEERWELL 
 
 Sir Peter .T. So! another French milliner! 
 Egad, he has one in every room in the house, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Lady Sneer. Ungrateful Charles ! Well may 
 you be surprised, and feel for the indelicate 
 situation your perfidy has forced me into. 
 
 Charles S. Pray, uncle, is this another plot of 
 yours? For, as I have life, I don't understand it. 
 
 Joseph S. I believe, sir, there is 'but the evi- 
 dence of one person more necessary to make it 
 extremely clear. 
 
 Sir Peter T. And that person, I imagine, is
 
 1 74 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Mr. Snake. Rowley, you were perfectly right to 
 bring him with us, and pray let him appear. 
 Rowley. Walk in, Mr. Snake. 
 
 Enter SNAKE 
 
 I thought his testimony might be wanted : how- 
 ever, it happens unluckily, that he comes to 
 confront Lady Sneerwell, not to support her. 
 
 Lady Sneer. A villain ! Treacherous to me 
 at last ! Speak, fellow ; have you too conspired 
 against me ? 
 
 Snake. I beg your ladyship ten thousand 
 pardons: you paid me extremely liberally for the 
 lie in question ; but I unfortunately have been 
 offered double to speak the truth. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Plot and counter-plot, egad ! 
 
 Lady Sneer. The torments of shame and dis- 
 appointment on you all. 
 
 Lady T. Hold, Lady Sneerwell, before you 
 go, let me thank you for the trouble you and that 
 gentleman have taken, in writing letters from me 
 to Charles, and answering them yourself ; and let 
 me also request you to make my respects to the 
 scandalous college, of which you are president, and 
 inform them, that Lady Teazle, licentiate, begs 
 leave to return the diploma they gave her, as she 
 leaves off practice, and kills characters no longer. 
 
 Lady Sneer. You too, madam provoking- 
 insolent May your husband live these fifty 
 years ! \ Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Oons ! what a fury ! 
 
 Lady T. A malicious creature, indeed !
 
 Lady Teazle. . . . Leaves off practice, and kills character: r.o longer.
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 177 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hey ! Not for her last wish ? 
 
 Lady T. Oh no ! 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, sir, and what have you to 
 say now ? 
 
 Joseph S. Sir, I am so confounded, to find 
 that Lady Sneerwell could be guilty of suborn- 
 ing Mr. Snake in this manner, to impose on us 
 all, that I know not what to say : however, lest 
 her revengeful spirit should prompt her to in- 
 jure my brother, I had certainly better follow her 
 directly. \Exit. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Moral to the last drop ! 
 
 'Sir Oliver S. Ay, and marry her, Joseph, if 
 you can. Oil and Vinegar, egad ! you'll do very 
 well together. 
 
 Rowley. I believe we have no more occasion 
 for Mr. Snake at present ? 
 
 Snake. Before I go, I beg pardon once for all, 
 for whatever uneasiness I have been the humble 
 instrument of causing to the parties present. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Well, well, you have made atone- 
 ment by a good deed at last. 
 
 Snake. But I must request of the company, 
 that it shall never be known. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Hey ! What the plague ! Are 
 you ashamed of having done a right thing once in 
 your life ? 
 
 Snake. Ah, sir ! consider, I live by the bad- 
 ness of my character ; I have nothing but my 
 infamy to depend on ! and if it were once known 
 that I had been betrayed into an honest action, I 
 should lose every friend I have in the world. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, well, we'll not traduce
 
 i 7 8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 you by saying anything in your praise, never 
 fear. [Exit SNAKE. 
 
 Sir Peter T. There's a precious rogue ! 
 
 Lady T. See, Sir Oliver, there needs no per- 
 suasion now to reconcile your nephew and Maria. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Ay, ay, that's as it should be, 
 and egad we'll have the wedding to-morrow 
 morning. 
 
 Charles S. Thank you, dear uncle ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. What, you rogue ! don't you ask 
 the girl's consent first? 
 
 Charles S. Oh, I have done that a long time 
 a minute ago and she has looked yes. 
 
 Maria. For shame, Charles ! I protest, Sir 
 Peter, there has not been a word. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. Well, then, the fewer the better ; 
 may your love for each other never know 
 abatement ! 
 
 Sir Peter T. And may you live as happily 
 together as Lady Teazle and I intend to do ! 
 
 Charles S. Rowley, my old friend, I am sure 
 you congratulate me ; and I suspect that I owe 
 you much. 
 
 Sir Oliver S. You do indeed, Charles. 
 
 Rowley. If my efforts to serve you had not 
 succeeded, you would have been in my debt for 
 the attempt ; but deserve to be happy, and you 
 overpay me. 
 
 Sir Peter T. Ay, honest Rowley always said 
 you would reform. 
 
 Charles S. Why, as to reforming, Sir Peter, I'll 
 make no promises, and that I take to be a proof 
 that I intend to set about it ; but here shall be my
 
 Sir P. May you live as haffily together a; Lady Teazle and I Intend to do !
 
 sc. in THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL 181 
 
 monitor my gentle guide ah ! can I leave the 
 virtuous path those eyes illumine ? 
 
 Though thou, dear maid, shouldst wave thy beauty's sway, 
 Thou still must rule, because I will obey : 
 An humble fugitive from Folly view, 
 No sanctuary near but Love and you ; 
 
 [ To the audience. 
 
 You can, indeed, each anxious fear remove, 
 For even Scandal dies if you approve.
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 BY MR. COLMAN 
 
 SPOKEN BY LADY TEAZLE 
 
 I, who was late so volatile and gay, 
 Like a trade wind must now blow all one way, 
 Bend all my cares, my studies, and my vows, 
 To one dull rusty weathercock my spouse ! 
 So wills our virtuous bard the motley Bayes 
 Of crying epilogues and laughing plays ! 
 Old bachelors, who marry smart young wives, 
 Learn from our play to regulate your lives : 
 Each bring his dear to town, all faults upon her 
 London will prove the very source of honour. 
 Plunged fairly in, like a cold bath k serves, 
 When principles relax, to brace the nerves : 
 Such is my case ; and yet I must deplore 
 That the gay dream of dissipation's o'er. 
 And say, ye fair, was ever lively wife, 
 Born with a genius for the highest life, 
 Like me untimely blasted in her bloom, 
 Like me condemn'd to such a dismal doom ? . 
 Save money when I just knew how to waste it ! 
 Leave London just as I began to taste it !
 
 1 84 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 Must I then watch the early crowing cock, 
 The melancholy ticking of a clock ; 
 In a lone rustic hall for ever pounded, 
 With dogs, cats, rats, and squalling brats sur- 
 rounded ? 
 
 With humble curate can I now retire, 
 (While good Sir Peter boozes with the squire), 
 And at backgammon mortify my soul, 
 That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole ? 
 Seven's the main ! Dear sound that must expire, 
 Lost at hot cockles round a Christmas fire ! 
 The transient hour of fashion too soon spent, 
 Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content ! 
 Farewell the plumed head, the cushion'd tete, 
 That takes the cushion from its proper seat ! 
 The spirit-stirring drum ! card drums I mean, 
 Spadille odd trick pam basto king and 
 
 queen ! 
 
 And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen throat, 
 The welcome visitors' approach denote ; 
 Farewell all quality of high renown, 
 Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town ! 
 Farewell ! your revels I partake no more, 
 And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er ! 
 All this I told our bard ; he smiled, and said 'twas 
 
 clear, 
 
 I ought to play deep tragedy next year. 
 Meanwhile he drew wise morals from his play, 
 And in these solemn periods stalk'd away : 
 Blest were the fair like you ; her faults who stopt, 
 And closed her follies when the curtain dropt ! 
 No more in vice or error to engage, 
 Or play the fool at large on life's great stage.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 A PREFACE to a play seems generally to be con- 
 sidered as a kind of closet-prologue, in which if 
 his piece has been successful the author solicits 
 that indulgence from the reader which he had 
 before experienced from the audience: but as 
 the scope and immediate object of a play is to 
 please a mixed assembly in representation (whose 
 judgment in the theatre at least is decisive), its 
 degree of reputation is usually as determined as 
 public, before it can be prepared for the cooler 
 tribunal of the study. Thus any farther solicitude 
 on the part of the writer becomes unnecessary at 
 least, if not an intrusion : and if the piece has 
 been condemned in the performance, I fear an 
 address to the closet, like an appeal to posterity, 
 is constantly regarded as the procrastination of a 
 suit, from a consciousness of the weakness of the 
 cause. From these considerations, the following 
 comedy would certainly have been submitted to 
 the reader, without any farther introduction than 
 what it had in the representation, but that its 
 success has probably been founded on a circum- 
 stance which the author is informed has not before
 
 1 88 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 attended a theatrical trial, and which consequently 
 ought not to pass unnoticed. 
 
 I need scarcely add, that the circumstance 
 alluded to was the withdrawing of the piece, 
 to remove those imperfections in the first re- 
 presentation which were too obvious to escape 
 reprehension, and too numerous to admit of a 
 hasty correction. There are few writers, I believe, 
 who, even in the fullest consciousness of error, do 
 not wish to palliate the faults which they acknow- 
 ledge ; and, however trifling the performance, to 
 second their confession of its deficiencies, by what- 
 ever plea seems least disgraceful to their ability. 
 In the present instance, it cannot be said to 
 amount either to candour or modesty in me, to 
 acknowledge an extreme inexperience and want of 
 judgment on matters, in which, without guidance 
 from practice, or spur from success, a young man 
 should scarcely boast of being an adept. If it be 
 said, that under such disadvantages no one should 
 attempt to write a play, I must beg leave to 
 dissent from the position, while the first point of 
 experience that I have gained on the subject is, 
 a knowledge of the candour and judgment with 
 which an impartial public distinguishes between 
 the errors of inexperience and incapacity, and the 
 indulgence which it shows even to a disposition to 
 remedy the defects of either. 
 
 It were unnecessary to enter into any farther 
 extenuation of what was thought exceptionable 
 in this play, but that it has been said, that the 
 managers should have prevented some of the 
 defects before its appearance to the public and
 
 PREFACE 189 
 
 in particular the uncommon length of the piece as 
 represented the first night. It were an ill return 
 for the most liberal and gentlemanly conduct on 
 their side, to suffer any censure to rest where none 
 was deserved. Hurry in writing has long been 
 exploded as an excuse for an author ; however, 
 in the dramatic line, it may happen, that both an 
 author and a manager may wish to fill a chasm in 
 the entertainment of the public with a hastiness 
 not altogether culpable. The season was advanced 
 when I first put the play into Mr. Harris's hands : 
 it was at that time at least double the length of 
 any acting comedy. I profited by his judgment 
 and experience in the curtailing of it till, I 
 believe, his feeling for the vanity of a young 
 author got the better of his desire for correctness, 
 and he left many excrescences remaining, because 
 he had assisted in pruning so many more. Hence, 
 though I was not uninformed that the acts were 
 still too long, I flattered myself that, after the 
 first trial, I might with safer judgment proceed to 
 remove what should appear to have been most 
 dissatisfactory. Many other errors there were, 
 which might in part have arisen from my being by 
 no means conversant with plays in general, either 
 in reading or at the theatre. Yet I own that, in 
 one respect, I did not regret my ignorance : for as 
 my first wish in attempting a play was to avoid 
 every appearance of plagiary, I thought I should 
 stand a better chance of effecting this from being 
 in a walk which I had not frequented, and where, 
 consequently, the progress of invention was less 
 likely to be interrupted by starts of recollection :
 
 1 9 o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 for on subjects on which the mind has been much 
 informed, invention is slow of exerting itself. 
 Faded ideas float in the fancy like half-forgotten 
 dreams ; and the imagination in its fullest enjoy- 
 ments becomes suspicious of its offspring, and 
 doubts whether it has created or adopted. 
 
 With regard to some particular passages which 
 on the first night's representation seemed generally 
 disliked, I confess, that if I felt any emotion of 
 surprise at the disapprobation, it was not that they 
 were disapproved of, but that I had not before 
 perceived that they deserved it. As some part of 
 the attack on the piece was begun too early to 
 pass for the sentence of judgment, which is ever 
 tardy in condemning, it has been suggested to me, 
 that much of the disapprobation must have arisen 
 from virulence of malice, rather than severity of 
 criticism : but as I was more apprehensive of there 
 being just grounds to excite the latter than con- 
 scious of having deserved the former, I continue 
 not to believe that probable, which I am sure must 
 have been unprovoked. However, if it was so, 
 and I could even mark the quarter from whence it 
 came, it would be ungenerous to retort ; for no 
 passion suffers more than malice from disappoint- 
 ment. For my own part, I see no reason why the 
 author of a play should not regard a first night's 
 audience as a candid and judicious friend attend- 
 ing, in behalf of the public, at his last rehearsal. 
 If he can dispense with flattery, he is sure at least 
 of sincerity, and even though the annotation be 
 rude, he may rely upon the justness of the comment. 
 Considered in this light, that audience, whose fiat
 
 PREFACE 191 
 
 is essential to the poet's claim, whether his object 
 be fame or profit, has surely a right to expect 
 some deference to its opinion, from principles of 
 politeness at least, if not from gratitude. 
 
 As for the little puny critics, who scatter their 
 peevish strictures in private circles, and scribble at 
 every author who has the eminence of being un- 
 connected with them, as they are usually spleen- 
 swoln from a vain idea of increasing their con- 
 sequence, there will always be found a petulance 
 and illiberality in their remarks, which should 
 place them as far beneath the notice of a gentle- 
 man, as their original dulness had sunk them from 
 the level of the most unsuccessful author. 
 
 It is not without pleasure that I catch at an 
 opportunity of justifying myself from the charge 
 of intending any national reflection in the character 
 of Sir Lucius O'Trigger. If any gentlemen opposed 
 the piece from that idea, I thank them sincerely 
 for their opposition ; and if the condemnation of 
 this comedy (however misconceived the provoca- 
 tion) could have added one spark to the decaying 
 flame of national attachment to the country sup- 
 posed to be reflected on, I should have been happy 
 in its fate ; and might with truth have boasted, 
 that ;: had done more real service in its failure, 
 than the successful morality of a thousand stage- 
 novels will ever effect. 
 
 It is usual, I believe, to thank the performers 
 in a new play, for the exertion of their several 
 abilities. But where (as in this instance) their 
 merit has been so striking and uncontroverted, 
 as to call for the warmest and truest applause from
 
 1 92 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 a number of judicious audiences, the poet's after- 
 praise comes like the feeble acclamation of a child to 
 close the shouts of a multitude. The conduct, 
 however, of the principals in a theatre cannot be 
 so apparent to the public. I think it therefore 
 but justice to declare, that from this theatre (the 
 only one I can speak of from experience) those 
 writers who wish to try the dramatic line will 
 meet with that candour and liberal attention, 
 which are generally allowed to be better calculated 
 to lead genius into excellence, than either the pre- 
 cepts of judgment, or the guidance of experience. 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 SPOKEN BY MR. WOODWARD AND MR. QUICK 
 
 Enter SERJEANT AT LAW, and ATTORNEY 
 following, and giving a paper 
 
 Serj. What's here ! a vile cramp hand ! I 
 
 cannot see 
 
 Without my spectacles. Att. He means his fee. 
 Nay, Mr. Serjeant, good sir, try again. 
 
 [Gives money. 
 Serj. The scrawl improves ! \_More.~] Oh come, 
 
 'tis pretty plain. 
 
 Hey ! how's this ? Dibble ! sure it cannot be ! 
 A poet's brief ! a poet and a fee ! 
 
 Att. Yes, sir ! though you without reward, I 
 
 know, 
 Would gladly plead the Muse's cause. Serj. So ! 
 
 So! 
 Att. And if the fee offends, your wrath should 
 
 fall 
 
 On me. Serj. Dear Dibble, no offence at all. 
 
 o
 
 i 9 4 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 Att. Some sons of Phoebus in the courts we 
 
 meet, 
 
 Serj. And fifty sons of Phoebus in the Fleet ! 
 Att. Nor pleads he worse, who with a decent 
 
 sprig 
 Of bays adorns his legal waste of wig. 
 
 Serj. Full-bottomed heroes thus, on signs, 
 
 unfurl 
 
 A leaf of laurel in a grove of curl ! 
 Yet tell your client, that, in adverse days, 
 This wig is warmer than a bush of bays. 
 
 Att. Do you, then, sir, my client's place supply, 
 Profuse of robe, and prodigal of tie 
 Do you, with all those blushing powers of face, 
 And wonted bashful hesitating grace, 
 Rise in the court, and flourish on the case. [Exit. 
 Serj. For practice then suppose this brief 
 
 will show it, 
 
 Me, Serjeant Woodward, counsel for the poet. 
 Used to the ground, I know 'tis hard to deal 
 With this dread court, from whence there's no 
 
 appeal ; 
 
 No tricking here, to blunt the edge of law, 
 Or, damn'd in equity^ escape by flaw: 
 But judgment given, your sentence must remain ; 
 No writ of error lies to Drury-lane ! 
 
 Yet when so kind you seem, 'tis past dispute 
 We gain some favour, if not costs of suit. 
 No spleen is here ! I see no hoarded fury ; 
 I think I never faced a milder jury ! 
 Sad else our plight ! where frowns are transporta- 
 tion, 
 A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation !
 
 PROLOGUE 195 
 
 But such the public candour, without fear 
 My client waves all right of challenge here. 
 No newsman from our session is dismiss'd, 
 Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list ; 
 His faults can never hurt another's ease, 
 His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please : 
 Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all, 
 And by the general voice will stand or fall. 
 
 The play being withdrawn after the first night's repre- 
 sentation, upon its second appearance the lines from " Hey ! 
 how's this ? " to " no offence at all," were omitted, and the 
 following inserted : 
 
 "How's this ! the poet's brief again! Oh ho ! 
 Cast, I suppose ? Att. Oh pardon me No No 
 We found the court, o'erlooking stricter laws, 
 Indulgent to the merits of the cause ; 
 By judges mild, unused to harsh denial, 
 A rule was granted for another trial. 
 
 Serj. Then hark'ee, Dibble, did you mend your pleadings; 
 Errors, no few, we've found in our proceedings. 
 
 Att. Come, courage, sir, we did amend our plea, 
 Hence your new brief, and this refreshing fee"
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 SPOKEN ON THE TENTH NIGHT BY MRS. BULKLEY 
 
 GRANTED our cause, our suit and trial o'er, 
 The worthy Serjeant need appear no more : 
 In pleasing I a different client choose, 
 He served the Poet, I would serve the Muse : 
 Like him, I'll try to merit your applause, 
 A female counsel in a female's cause. 
 
 Look on this form, 1 where Humour, quaint 
 
 and sly, 
 
 Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye ; 
 Where gay Invention seems to boast its wiles 
 In amorous hint, and half-triumphant smiles ; 
 While her light mask or covers Satire's strokes, 
 Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes. 
 Look on her well does she seem form'd to 
 
 teach ? 
 
 Should you expect to hear this lady preach ? 
 Is gray experience suited to her youth ? 
 Do solemn sentiments become that mouth ? 
 
 J Pointing to the figure of Comedy.
 
 PROLOGUE 197 
 
 Bid her be grave, those iips should rebel prove 
 To every theme that slanders mirth or Jove. 
 
 Yet thus adorn'd with every graceful art 
 
 To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart 
 
 Must we displace her ? And instead advance 
 The Goddess of the woful countenance 
 The sentimental Muse ! Her emblems view, 
 The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue ! 
 View her too chaste to look like flesh and blood 
 Primly portrayed on emblematic wood ! 
 There fix'd in usurpation should she stand, 
 She'll snatch the dagger from her sister's hand : 
 And having made her vot'ries weep a flood, 
 Good heaven ! she'll end her comedies in blood 
 Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown ! 
 Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down ; 
 While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene, 
 Shall stab herself or poison Mrs. Green. 
 
 Such dire encroachments to prevent in time, 
 Demands the critic's voice the poet's rhyme. 
 Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws ! 
 Such puny patronage but hurts the cause : 
 Fair Virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask ; 
 And moral Truth disdains the trickster's mask. 
 For here their fav'rite stands, 1 whose brow, severe 
 And sad, claims Youth's respect, and Pity's tear ; 
 Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates, 
 Can point a poniard at the Guilt she hates. 
 
 1 Pointing to Tragedy.
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR 
 SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY 
 
 LADIES, for you I heard our poet say 
 He'd try to coax some moral from his play : 
 " One moral's plain," cried I, " without more fuss ; 
 Man's social happiness all rests on us : 
 Through all the drama whether d n'd or not 
 Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot. 
 From every rank obedience is our due 
 
 D'ye doubt ? The world's great stage shall prove 
 
 ^ " 
 it true. 
 
 The Cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife, 
 Will sup abroad ; but first, he'll ask his wife : 
 John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same, 
 But then he'll just step home to tell his dame. 
 
 The surly Squire at noon resolves to rule, 
 And half the day Zounds ! Madam is a fool ! 
 Convinced at night, the vanquish'd victor says, 
 Ah, Kate ! you women have such coaxing ways ! 
 
 The jolly Toper chides each tardy blade, 
 Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid :
 
 EPILOGUE i 99 
 
 Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim, 
 And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim ! 
 
 Nay, I have heard that Statesmen great and 
 
 wise 
 
 Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes ; 
 The servile suitors watch her various face, 
 She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace, 
 Curtsies a pension here there nods a place. 
 
 Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life, 
 Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife. 
 The poorest Peasant of the poorest soil, 
 The child of poverty, and heir to toil, 
 Early from radiant Love's impartial light 
 Steals one small spark to cheer his world of night : 
 Dear spark ! that oft through winter's chilling woes 
 Is all the warmth his little cottage knows ! 
 
 The wand'ring Tar, who not for years has 
 
 press'd 
 
 The widow'd partner of his day of rest, 
 On the cold deck, far from her arms removed, 
 Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved ; 
 And while around the cadence rude is blown, 
 The boatswain whistles in a softer tone. 
 
 The Soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil, 
 Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile ; 
 But ere the battle should he list' her cries, 
 The lover trembles and the hero dies ! 
 That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear, 
 Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear ! 
 
 But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few, 
 Who give to Beauty only Beauty's due, 
 Though friends to Love ye view with deep regret 
 
 O ~ i o 
 
 Our conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete,
 
 200 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS 
 
 Till polish'd Wit more lasting charms disclose, 
 And Judgment fix the darts which Beauty throws 
 In female breasts did sense and merit rule, 
 The lover's mind would ask no other school ; 
 Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes, 
 Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise ; 
 Would gladly light, their homage to improve, 
 The lamp of Knowledge at the torch of Love !
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE IN 1775 
 
 SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE . . Mr. Shifter. 
 
 CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE . . . Mr. Woodward. 
 
 FAULKLAND Mr. Lewis. 
 
 ACRES . . . . . . Mr. Quick. 
 
 SIR Lucius O'TRIGGER . . Mr. Lee. 1 
 
 FAG ...... Mr. Lee Lewes. 
 
 DAVID . ... Mr. Dunstal. 
 
 COACHMAN Mr. Fearon. 
 
 MRS. MALAPROP .... Mrs. Green. 
 
 LYDIA LANGUISH .... Miss Barsanti. 
 
 JULIA . ... . . . Mrs. Bulkley. 
 
 LUCY . ... Mrs. Lessingham 
 
 Maid, Boy, Servants, etc. 
 
 Scene Batk. 
 Time of Aclion Five Hours. 
 
 1 Afterwards by Mr. Clinch.
 
 ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. A Street in Bath 
 
 COACHMAN crosses the stage. Enter FAG, looking 
 after him 
 
 Fag. What ! Thomas ! Sure 'tis he ? What ! 
 Thomas ! Thomas ! 
 
 Coach. Hey ! Odds life ! Mr. Fag ! give us 
 your hand, my old fellow-servant. 
 
 Fag. Excuse my glove, Thomas : I'm devil- 
 ish glad to see you, my lad : why, my prince of 
 charioteers, you look as hearty ! but who the 
 deuce thought of seeing you in Bath ? 
 
 Coach. Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. 
 Kate, and the postillion, be all come. 
 
 Fag. Indeed ! 
 
 Coach. Ay ! master thought another fit of the 
 gout was coming to make him a visit ; so he'd a 
 mind to gi't the slip, and whip ! we were all off at 
 an hour's warning. 
 
 Fag. Ay, ay ! hasty in everything, or it would 
 not be Sir Anthony Absolute !
 
 204 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Coach. But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young 
 master ? Odd ! Sir Anthony will stare to see the 
 captain here ! 
 
 Fag. I do not serve Captain Absolute now. 
 
 Coach. Why sure ! 
 
 Fag. At present I am employed by Ensign 
 Beverley. 
 
 Coach. I doubt, Mr. Fag, you ha'n't changed 
 for the better. 
 
 Fag. I have not changed, Thomas. 
 
 Coach. No ! why, didn't you say you had left 
 young master? 
 
 Fag. No. Well, honest Thomas, I must 
 
 puzzle you no further: briefly then Captain 
 Absolute and Ensign Beverley are one and the 
 same person. 
 
 Coach. The devil they are ! 
 
 Fag. So it is indeed, Thomas ; and the ensign 
 half of my master being on guard at present the 
 captain has nothing to do with me. 
 
 Coach. So, so ! what, this is some freak, I 
 warrant ! Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the meaning o't 
 you know I ha' trusted you. 
 
 Fag. You'll be secret, Thomas? 
 
 Coach. As a coach-horse. 
 
 Fag. Why then the cause of all this is LOVE, 
 Love, Thomas, who (as you may get read to 
 you) has been a masquerader ever since the days 
 of Jupiter. 
 
 Coach. Ay, ay ; I guess'd there was a lady in 
 the case : but pray, why does your master pass 
 only for ensign ? now if he had shamm'd general 
 indeed
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 205 
 
 Fag. Ah ! Thomas, there lies the mystery 
 o' the matter. Hark'ee, Thomas, my master is in 
 love with a lady of a very singular taste : a lady 
 who likes him better as a half-pay ensign than 
 if she knew he was son and heir to Sir Anthony 
 Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year. 
 
 Coach. That is an odd taste indeed ! but has 
 she got the stuff, Mr. Fag ? is she rich, hey ? 
 
 Fag. Rich ! why, I believe she owns half the 
 stocks ! Z ds ! Thomas, she could pay the 
 national debt as easily as I could my washer- 
 woman ! She has a lap-dog that eats out of gold, 
 she feeds her parrot with small pearls, and all 
 her thread-papers are made of banknotes ! 
 
 Coach. Bravo, faith ! Odd ! I warrant she has 
 a set cf thousands at least : but does she draw 
 kindly with the captain ? 
 
 Fag. As fond as pigeons. 
 
 Coach. May one hear her name ? 
 
 Fag. Miss Lydia Languish. But there is an 
 old tough aunt in the way; though, by the 
 bye, she has never seen my master for we got 
 acquainted with miss while on a visit in Glou- 
 cestershire. 
 
 Coach. Well I wish they were once harnessed 
 together in matrimony. But pray, Mr. Fag, what 
 kind of a place is this Bath ? I ha' heard a deal 
 of it here's a mort o' merry-making, hey ? 
 
 Fag. Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well 'tis a 
 good lounge ; in the morning we go to the pump- 
 room (though neither my master nor I drink the 
 waters) ; after breakfast we saunter on the parades, 
 or play a game at billiards ; at night we dance ;
 
 206 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 but d n the place, I'm tired of it : their regular 
 hours stupefy me not a fiddle nor a card after 
 eleven ! however, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and 
 I keep it up a little in private parties; I'll 
 introduce you there, Thomas you'll like him 
 much. 
 
 Coach. Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne you 
 know his master is to marry Madam Julia. 
 
 Fag. I had forgot. But, Thomas, you must 
 
 polish a little indeed you must Here now 
 
 this wig ! what the devil do you do with a wig, 
 Thomas? none of the London whips of any 
 degree of ton wear wigs now. 
 
 Coach. More's the pity ! more's the pity, I 
 say Odds life ! when I heard how the lawyers 
 and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought 
 how 'twould go next: Odd rabbit it! when 
 the fashion had got foot on the Bar, I guess'd 
 'twould mount to the Box ! but 'tis all out of 
 character, believe me, Mr. Fag : and look'ee, I'll 
 never gi' up mine the lawyers and doctors may 
 do as they will. 
 
 Fag. Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about that. 
 
 Coach. Why, bless you, the gentlemen of they 
 professions ben't all of a mind for in our village 
 now, thoff Jack Gauge the exciseman has ta'en to 
 his carrots, there's little Dick the farrier swears 
 he'll never forsake his bob, tho' all the college 
 should appear with their own heads ! 
 
 Fag. Indeed ! well said, Dick ! but hold 
 mark ! mark ! Thomas. 
 
 Coach. Zooks ! 'tis the captain Is that the 
 lady with him ?
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 207 
 
 Fag. No ! no ! that is Madam Lucy my 
 master's mistress's maid. They lodge at that 
 house but I must after him to tell him the 
 news. 
 
 Coach. Odd ! he's giving her money ! well, 
 Mr. Fag 
 
 Fag. Good-bye, Thomas. I have an appoint- 
 ment in Gyde's Porch this evening at eight ; meet 
 me there, and we'll make a little party. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE II. A Dressing-room in Mrs. MALA- 
 PROP'S Lodgings 
 
 LYDIA sitting on a sofa, with a book in her hand 
 LUCY, as just returned from a message 
 
 Lucy. Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the 
 town in search of it : I don't believe there's a 
 circulating library in Bath I ha'n't been at. 
 
 Lydia. And could not you get " The Reward 
 of Constancy " ? 
 
 Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. 
 
 Lydia. Nor u The Fatal Connexion " ? 
 
 Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am. 
 
 Lydia. Nor " The Mistakes of the Heart " 
 
 Lucy. Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. 
 Bull said Miss Sukey Saunter had just fetched it 
 away. 
 
 Lydia. Heigh-ho ! Did you inquire for " The 
 Delicate Distress " ? 
 
 Or " The Memoirs of Lady Wood-
 
 208 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT I 
 
 ford " ? Yes, indeed, ma'am. I asked everywhere 
 for it ; and I might have brought it from Mr. 
 Frederick's, but Lady Slattern Lounger, who had 
 just sent it home, had so soiled and dog's-ear'd it, 
 it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read. 
 
 Lydia. Heigh-ho ! Yes, I always know when 
 Lady Slattern has been before me. She has a 
 most observing thumb ; and, I believe, cherishes 
 her nails for the convenience of making marginal 
 notes. Well, child, what have you brought me ? 
 
 Lucy. Oh ! here, ma'am. 
 
 [Taking books from under her cloak, 
 
 and from her -pockets. 
 
 This is "The Gordian Knot," and this " Peregrine 
 Pickle." Here are " The Tears of Sensibility," and 
 " Humphrey Clinker." This is " The Memoirs of 
 a Lady of Quality, written by herself," and here 
 the second volume of " The Sentimental Journey." 
 
 Lydia. Heigh-ho ! What are those books by 
 the glass ? 
 
 L2icy. The great one is only " The Whole Duty 
 of Man," where I press a few blonds, ma'am. 
 
 Lydia. Very well give me the sal 'volatile. 
 
 Lucy. Is it in a blue cover, ma'am ? 
 
 Lydia. My smelling-bottle, you simpleton ! 
 
 Lucy. Oh, the drops ! here, ma'am. 
 
 Lydia. Hold ! here's some one coming 
 
 quick, see who it is \Exit LUCY. 
 
 Surely I heard my cousin Julia's voice ! 
 
 \Re-enter LUCY. 
 
 Lucy. Lud ! ma'am, here is Miss Melville. 
 
 Lydia. Is it possible !
 
 Lucy. This is ' The Goniian Knot," and this " Peregrine Pickle." Here are 
 " The Tears of Sensibility," ami " Humphrey Clinker."
 
 THE RIVALS 
 
 Enter JULIA 
 
 Lydia. My dearest Julia, how delighted am I ! 
 (Embrace.'] How unexpected was this happiness ! 
 
 Julia. True, Lydia and our pleasure is the 
 greater ; but what has been the matter ? you 
 were denied to me at first ! 
 
 Lydia. Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to 
 tell you ! but first inform me what has conjured 
 you to Bath ? Is Sir Anthony here ? 
 
 Julia. He is we are arrived within this hour 
 and I suppose he will be here to wait on Mrs. 
 Malaprop as soon as he is dress'd. 
 
 Lydia. Then before we are interrupted, let me 
 impart to you some of my distress ! I know your 
 gentle nature will sympathise with me, though 
 your prudence may condemn me! My letters 
 have informed you of my whole connection with 
 Beverley ; but I have lost him, Julia ! my aunt 
 has discovered our intercourse by a note she inter- 
 cepted, and has confined me ever since! Yet, 
 would you believe it? she has fallen absolutely in 
 Jove with a tall Irish baronet she met one night 
 since we have been here at Lady MacshufnVs rout. 
 
 Julia. You jest, Lydia ! 
 
 Lydia. No, upon my word. She really carries 
 on a kind of correspondence with him, under 
 a feigned name though, till she chooses to be 
 
 O O ' 
 
 known to him ; but it is a Delia or a Celia, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Julia. Then, surely, she is now more indulgent 
 to her niece.
 
 212 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Lydia. Quite the contrary. Since she has 
 discovered her own frailty, she is become more 
 suspicious of mine. Then I must inform you of 
 another plague ! -That odious Acres is to be in 
 Bath to-day ; so that I protest I shall be teased 
 out of all spirits ! 
 
 Julia. Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best 
 Sir Anthony shall use his interest with Mrs. 
 Malaprop. 
 
 Lydia. But you have not heard the worst. 
 Unfortunately I had quarrelled with my poor 
 Beverley, just before my aunt made the discovery, 
 and I have not seen him since, to make it up. 
 
 Julia. What was his offence ? 
 
 Lydia. Nothing at all! But, I don't know 
 how it was, as often as we had been together, 
 we had never had a quarrel ! And, somehow, 
 I was afraid he would never give me an oppor- 
 tunity. So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter to 
 myself, to inform myself that Beverley was at that 
 time paying his addresses to another woman. I 
 signed it " your friend unknown," showed it to 
 Beverley, charged him with his falsehood, put 
 myself in a violent passion, and vowed I'd never 
 see him more. 
 
 Julia. And you let him depart so, and have 
 not seen him since ? 
 
 Lydia. 'Twas the next day my aunt found the 
 matter out. I intended only to have teased him 
 three days and a half, and now I've lost him for 
 ever. 
 
 Julia. If he is as deserving and sincere as you 
 have represented him to me, he will never give
 
 Lydia. My dear at Julia, hvw delighted am I!
 
 sc. it THE RIVALS 215 
 
 you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he is 
 but an ensign, and you have thirty thousand pounds ! 
 
 Lydia. But you know I lose most of my for- 
 tune if I marry without my aunt's consent, till of 
 age ; and that is what I have determined to do, 
 ever since I knew the penalty. Nor could I Jove 
 the man, who would wish to wait a day for the 
 alternative. 
 
 Julia. Nay, this is caprice ! 
 
 Lydia. What, does Julia tax me with caprice ? 
 I thought her lover Faulkland had inured her 
 to it. 
 
 Julia. I do not love even his faults. 
 
 Lydia. But apropos you have sent to him, I 
 suppose ? 
 
 Julia. Not yet, upon my word nor has he the 
 least idea of my being in Bath. Sir Anthony's 
 resolution was so sudden, I could not inform him 
 of it. 
 
 Lydia. Well, Julia, you are your own mistress 
 (though under the protection of Sir Anthony), yet 
 have you, for this long year, been a slave to the 
 caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful 
 Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the right 
 of a husband, while you suffer him to be equally 
 imperious as a lover. 
 
 Julia. Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were 
 contracted before my father's death. That, and 
 some consequent embarrassments, have delayed 
 what I know to be my Faulkland's most ardent 
 wish. He is too generous to trifle on such a 
 point. And for his character, you wrong him 
 there too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble
 
 *i6 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 to be jealous ; if he is captious, 'tis without dis- 
 sembling ; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused 
 to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the 
 little duties expected from a lover- -but being 
 unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent 
 and sincere ; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he 
 expects every thought and emotion of his mistress 
 to move in unison with his. Yet, though his 
 pride calls for this full return, his humility makes 
 him undervalue those qualities in him which would 
 entitle him to it ; and not feeling why he should 
 be loved to the degree he wishes, he still suspects 
 that he is not loved enough : This temper, I 
 must own, has cost me many unhappy hours ; but 
 I have learned to think myself his debtor, for those 
 imperfections which arise from the ardour of his 
 attachment. 
 
 Lydia. Well, I cannot blame you for defending 
 him. But tell me candidly, Julia, had he never 
 saved your life, do you think you should have 
 been attached to him as you are ? Believe me, 
 the rude blast that overset your boat was a 
 prosperous gale of love to him. 
 
 Julia. Gratitude may have strengthened my 
 attachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I loved him 
 before he had preserved me ; yet surely that alone 
 were an obligation sufficient 
 
 Lydia. Obligation ! Why a water-spaniel 
 
 would have done as much ! Well, I should never 
 think of giving my heart to a man because he 
 could swim ! 
 
 Julia. Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate. 
 
 Lydia. Nay, I do but jest. What's here ?
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 
 
 Enter LUCY in a hurry 
 
 Lucy. Oh ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute 
 just come home with your aunt. 
 
 Lydia. They'll not come here. Lucy, do you 
 watch. [;'/ LUCY. 
 
 Julia. Yet I must go. Sir Anthony does not 
 know I am here, and if we meet, he'll detain me, to 
 show me the town. I'll take another opportunity 
 of paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she 
 shall treat me, as long as she chooses, with her 
 select words so ingeniously misapplied, without 
 being mispronounced. 
 
 Re-enter LUCY 
 
 Lucy. O Lud ! ma'am, they are both coming 
 upstairs. 
 
 Lydia. Well, I'll not detain you, coz. Adieu, 
 my dear Julia, I'm sure you are in haste to send to 
 
 Faulkland. There through my room you'll 
 
 find another staircase. 
 
 Julia. Adieu! (Embrace.} [Exit JULIA. 
 
 Lydia. Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. 
 Quick, quick. Fling " Peregrine Pickle " under 
 the toilet throw " Roderick Random " into the 
 closet put " The Innocent Adultery " into " The 
 Whole Duty of Man" thrust "Lord Aimworth" 
 under the sofa cram " Ovid " behind the bolster 
 
 there put "The Man of Feeling" into your 
 
 pocket so, so now lay "Mrs. Chapone" in sight, 
 and leave " Fordyce's Sermons " open on the table.
 
 zi8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 Lucy. Oh burn it, ma'am, the hair-dresser has 
 torn away as far as Proper Pride. 
 
 Lydia. Never mind open at Sobriety. 
 Fling me "Lord Chesterfield's Letters."- Now 
 for 'em. 
 
 Enter Mrs. MALAPROP and Sir ANTHONY 
 ABSOLUTE 
 
 Mrs. Mai. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the 
 deliberate simpleton, who wants to disgrace her 
 family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a 
 shilling. 
 
 Lydia. Madam, I thought you once 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You thought, miss ! I don't know 
 any business you have to think at all thought 
 does not become a young woman. But the point 
 we would request of you is, that you will promise 
 to forget this fellow to illiterate him, I say, quite 
 from your memory. 
 
 Lydia. Ah, madam ! our memories are in- 
 dependent of our wills. It is not so easy to 
 forget. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. But I say it is, miss ; there is 
 nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person 
 chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much 
 forgot your poor dear uncle, as if he had never 
 existed and I thought it my duty so to do ; and 
 let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories 
 don't become a young woman. 
 
 Sir Anth. Why sure she won't pretend to re- 
 member what she's order'd not ! ay, this comes 
 of her reading !
 
 Mrs. Mai. There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton.
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 221 
 
 Lydia. What crime, madam, have I committed, 
 to be treated thus ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Now don't attempt to extirpate 
 yourself from the matter ; you know I have proof 
 controvertible of it. But tell me, will you promise 
 to do as you're bid ? Will you take a husband of 
 your friends' choosing? 
 
 Lydia. Madam, I must tell you plainly, that 
 had I no preference for any one else, the choice 
 you have made would be my aversion. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. What business have you, miss, 
 with preference and aversion? They don't be- 
 come a young woman ; and you ought to know, 
 that as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matri- 
 mony to begin with a little aversion. I am sure 
 I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as 
 if he'd been a black-a-moor and yet, miss, you 
 are sensible what a wife I made ! and when it 
 pleased Heaven to release me from him, 'tis un- 
 known what tears I shed ! But suppose we were 
 going to give you another choice, will you promise 
 us to give up this Beverley ? 
 
 Lydia. Could I belie my thoughts so far as to 
 give that promise, my actions would certainly as 
 far belie my words. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Take yourself to your room. 
 You are fit company for nothing but your own 
 ill-humours. 
 
 Lydia. Willingly, ma'am I cannot change for 
 the worse. [Exit LYDIA. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. There's a little intricate hussv for 
 
 you ' 
 
 Sir Anth. It is not to be wondered at, ma'am,
 
 222 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 all this is the natural consequence of teaching 
 girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by 
 heaven ! I'd as soon have them taught the black 
 art as their alphabet ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an 
 absolute misanthropy. 
 
 Sir. Anth. In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, 
 I observed your niece's maid coming forth from 
 a circulating library! She had a book in each 
 hand they were half-bound volumes, with marble 
 covers ! From that moment I guessed how full of 
 duty I should see her mistress ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Those are vile places, indeed ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Madam, a circulating library in a 
 town is as an evergreen tree of diabolical know- 
 ledge ! It blossoms through the year! And 
 depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are 
 so fond of handling the leaves, will long for the 
 fruit at last. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Fie, fie, Sir Anthony, you surely 
 speak laconically. 
 
 Sir Anth. Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation, 
 now, what would you have a woman know? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Observe me, Sir Anthony. I 
 would by no means wish a daughter of mine to 
 be a progeny of learning ; I don't think so much 
 learning becomes a young woman ; for instance, 
 I would never let her meddle with Greek, or 
 Hebrew, or Algebra, or Simony, or Fluxions, 
 or Paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of 
 learning neither would it be necessary for her 
 to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, 
 diabolical instruments : But, Sir Anthony, I would
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 223 
 
 send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, 
 in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. 
 Then, sir, she should have a supercilious know- 
 ledge in accounts ; and as she grew up, I would 
 have her instructed in geometry, that she might 
 know something of the contagious countries ; 
 but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress 
 of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and 
 mis-pronounce words so shamefully as girls usually 
 do ; and likewise that she might reprehend the 
 true meaning of what she is saying. This, Sir 
 Anthony, is what I would have' a woman know ; 
 and I don't think there is a superstitious article 
 in it. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will 
 dispute the point no further with you ; though 
 I must confess, that you are a truly moderate and 
 polite arguer, for almost every third word you 
 say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs. 
 Malaprop, to the more important point in debate, 
 you say, you have no objection to my proposal. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. None, I assure you. I am under 
 no positive engagement with Mr. Acres, and as 
 Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your 
 son may have better success. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, madam, I will write for the 
 boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this 
 yet, though I have for some time had the pro- 
 posal in my head. He is at present with his 
 regiment. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. We have never seen your son, Sir 
 Anthony ; but I hope no objection on his side. 
 
 Sir Anth. Objection ! let him object if he
 
 224 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 dare ! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that 
 the least demur puts me in a frenzy directly. 
 My process was always very simple in their 
 younger days, 'twas "Jack do this"; if he 
 demurred, I knocked him down and if he 
 grumbled at that I always sent him out of the 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Ay, and the properest way, o' my 
 conscience ! nothing is so conciliating to young 
 people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall 
 give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia 
 to receive your son's invocations; and I hope 
 you will represent her to the captain as an object 
 not altogether illegible. 
 
 Sir Anth. Madam, I will handle the subject 
 prudently. Well, I must leave you ; and let me 
 beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter 
 roundly to the girl ; take my advice keep a 
 tight hand : if she rejects this proposal, clap her 
 under lock and key ; and if you were just to let 
 the servants forget to bring her dinner for three 
 or four days, you can't conceive how she'd come 
 about. [Exit Sir ANTH. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Well, at anyrate I shall be glad 
 to get her from under my intuition. She has 
 somehow discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius 
 O'Trigger sure, Lucy can't have betrayed me ! 
 No, the girl is such a simpleton, I should have 
 made her confess it.- Lucy! Lucy! (CVz//j). 
 Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should 
 never have trusted her.
 
 Lucy. Let m! see to ivtiat account have I turned my simplicity lately.
 
 sc. a THE RIVALS 227 
 
 Enter LUCY 
 
 Lucy. Did you call, ma'am ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Yes, girl. Did jou see Sir Lucius 
 while you was out ? 
 
 Lucy. No, indeed, ma'am, not a glimpse of 
 him. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You are sure, Lucy, that you never 
 mentioned 
 
 Lucy. O Gemini ! I'd sooner cut my tongue 
 out. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Well, don't let your simplicity be 
 imposed on. 
 
 Lucy. No, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. So, come to me presently, and I'll 
 give you another letter to Sir Lucius ; but mind, 
 Lucy if ever you betray what you are entrusted 
 with (unless it be other people's secrets to me), 
 you forfeit my malevolence for ever ; and your 
 being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your 
 locality. {Exit Mrs. MAL. 
 
 Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! So, my dear simplicity, 
 let me give you a little respite (altering her 
 manner"] let girls in my station be as fond as 
 they please of appearing expert, and knowing in 
 their trusts ; commend me to a mask of silliness, 
 and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest 
 under it ! Let me see to what account have I 
 turned my simplicity lately (looks at a paper). 
 For abetting Miss Lydia Languish in a design of 
 running away with an ensign ! in money, sundry 
 times, twelve found twelve ; gowns, Jive ; hats,
 
 228 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT i 
 
 ruffles, caps, etc., etc., numberless ! From the said 
 ensign, within this last month, six guineas and a 
 half. About a quarter's pay ! Item, from Mrs. 
 Malaprop,for betraying the young people to her 
 when I found matters were likely to be dis- 
 covered two guineas, and a black padusoy. 
 Item, from Mr. Acres, for carrying divers letters 
 which I never delivered two guineas, and a 
 pair of buckles. Item, from Sir Lucius O'Trig- 
 ger, three crowns, two gold pocket-pieces, and a 
 silver snuff-box ! Well done, simplicity / yet I 
 was forced to make my Hibernian believe, that 
 he was corresponding, not with the aunt, but 
 with the niece : for though not over rich, I 
 found he had too much pride and delicacy to 
 sacrifice the feelings of a gentleman to the neces- 
 sities of his fortunes. [Exit.
 
 Fag. Oh, I lied, sir I forget the precise He.
 
 ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. Captain ABSOLUTE'S Lodgings 
 Captain ABSOLUTE and FAG 
 
 Fag. Sir, while I was there Sir Anthony came 
 in : I told him, you had sent me to inquire after his 
 health, and to know if he was at leisure to see you. 
 
 Abs. And what did he say, on hearing I was at 
 Bath ? 
 
 Fag. Sir, in my life I never saw an elderly 
 gentleman more astonished ! He started back 
 two or three paces, rapt out a dozen interjec- 
 tural oaths, and asked, what the devil had brought 
 you here? 
 
 Abs. Well, sir, and what did you say ? 
 
 Fag. Oh, I lied, sir I forget the precise lie ; 
 but you may depend on't, he got no truth from 
 me. Yet, with submission, for fear of blunders 
 in future, I should be glad to fix what has brought 
 us to Bath ; in order that we may lie a little 
 consistently. Sir Anthony's servants were curious, 
 sir, very curious indeed. 
 
 Abs. You have said nothing to them ?
 
 2 3 i SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Fag. Oh, not a word, sir, not a word. Mr. 
 Thomas, indeed, the coachman (whom I take to 
 be the discreetest of whips) 
 
 Abs. 'Sdeath ! you rascal ! you have not 
 trusted him ! 
 
 Fag. Oh, no, sir no no not a syllable, upon 
 my veracity ! He was, indeed, a little inquisitive ; 
 but I was sly, sir devilish sly! My master 
 (said I), honest Thomas (you know, sir, one says 
 honest to one's inferiors), is come to Bath to 
 recruit Yes, sir, I said to recruit and whether 
 for men, money, or constitution, you know, sir, 
 is nothing to him, nor any one else. 
 
 Abs. Well, recruit will do let it be so. 
 
 Fag. Oh, sir, recruit will do surprisingly in- 
 deed, to give the thing an air, I told Thomas, 
 that your honour had already enlisted five dis- 
 banded chairmen, seven minority waiters, and 
 thirteen billiard-markers. 
 
 Abs. You blockhead, never say more than is 
 necessary. 
 
 Fag. I beg pardon, sir I beg pardon But, 
 with submission, a lie is nothing unless one sup- 
 ports it. Sir, whenever I draw on my invention 
 for a good current lie, I always forge indorse- 
 ments as well as the bill. 
 
 Abs. Well, take care you don't hurt your 
 credit, by offering too much security. Is Mr. 
 Faulkland returned ? 
 
 Fag. He is above, sir, changing his dress. 
 
 Abs. Can you tell whether he has been in- 
 formed of Sir Anthony's and Miss Melville's 
 arrival ?
 
 sc. if THE RIVALS 
 
 233 
 
 Fag. I fancy not, sir ; he has seen no one 
 since he "came in but his gentleman, who was with 
 him at Bristol. I think, sir, I hear Mr. Faulkland 
 coming down 
 
 Abs. Go, tell him, I am here. 
 
 Fag. Yes, sir (going) I beg pardon, sir, 
 but should Sir Anthony call, you will do me the 
 favour to remember, that we are recruiting, if 
 you please. 
 
 Abs. Well, well. 
 
 Fag. And in tenderness to my character, if 
 your honour could bring in the chairmen and 
 waiters, I should esteem it as an obligation ; for 
 though I never scruple a lie to serve my master, 
 yet it hurts one's conscience to be found out. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Abs. Now for my whimsical friend if he does 
 not know that his mistress is here, I'll tease him 
 a little before I tell him 
 
 Enter FAULKLAND 
 
 Faulkland, you're welcome to Bath again ; you 
 are punctual in your return. 
 
 Faulk. Yes ; I had nothing to detain me, when 
 I had finished the business I went on. Well, 
 what news since I left you ? How stand matters 
 between you and Lydia ? 
 
 Abs. Faith, much as they were ; I have not 
 seen her since our quarrel ; however, I expect to 
 be recalled every hour. 
 
 Faulk. Why don't you persuade her to go off 
 with you at once ?
 
 234 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Abs. What, and lose two-thirds of her fortune ? 
 You forget that, my friend. No, no, I could 
 have brought her to that long ago. 
 
 Faulk. Nay then, you trifle too long if you 
 are sure of her, propose to the aunt in your own 
 character, and write to Sir Anthony for his consent. 
 
 Abs. Softly, softly ; for though I am convinced 
 my little Lydia would elope with me as Ensign 
 Beverley, yet am I by no means certain that 
 she would take me with the impediment of our 
 friends' consent, a regular humdrum wedding, 
 and the reversion of a good fortune on my side : 
 no, no ; I must prepare her gradually for the 
 discovery, and make myself necessary to her, 
 before I risk it. Well, but Faulkland, you'll dine 
 with us to-day at the Hotel ? 
 
 Faulk. Indeed I cannot ; I am not in spirits 
 to be of such a party. 
 
 Abs. By heavens ! I shall forswear your com- 
 pany. You are the most teasing, captious, in- 
 corrigible lover ! Do love like a man. 
 
 Faulk. I own I am unfit for company. 
 
 Abs. Am not / a lover ; ay, and a romantic 
 one too ? Yet do I carry everywhere with me 
 such a confounded farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, 
 wishes, and all the flimsy furniture of a country 
 miss's brain ? 
 
 Faulk. Ah ! Jack, your heart and soul are not, 
 like mine, fixed immutably on one only object. 
 You throw for a large stake, but losing, you 
 could stake, and throw again : but I have set 
 my sum of happiness on this cast, and not to 
 succeed, were to be stript of all.
 
 sc. I THE RIVALS 235 
 
 Abs. But, for Heaven's sake ! what grounds 
 for apprehension can your whimsical brain conjure 
 up at present? 
 
 Faulk. What grounds for apprehension, did 
 you say ? Heavens ! are there not a thousand ! 
 I fear for her spirits her health her life. -My 
 absence may fret her ; her anxiety for my return, 
 her fears for me, may oppress her gentle temper. 
 And for her health, does not every hour bring 
 me cause to be alarmed ? If it rains, some shower 
 may even then have chilled her delicate frame ! 
 If the wind be keen, some rude blast may have 
 affected her ! The heat of noon, the dews of the 
 evening, may endanger the life of her, for whom 
 only I value mine. Oh Jack ! when delicate and 
 feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature 
 in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not 
 an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause 
 for a lover's apprehension ! 
 
 Abs. Ay, but we may choose whether we will 
 take the hint or not. So, then, Faulkland, if you 
 were convinced that Julia were well and in spirits, 
 you would be entirely content. 
 
 Faulk. I should be happy beyond measure 
 I am anxious only for that. 
 
 Abs. Then to cure your anxiety at once 
 Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this 
 moment in Bath. 
 
 Faulk. Nay, Jack don't trifle with me. 
 
 Abs. She is arrived here with my father within 
 this hour. 
 
 Faulk. Can you be serious? 
 
 Abs. I thought you knew Sir Anthony better
 
 236 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 than to be surprised at a sudden whim of this 
 kind. Seriously then, it is as I tell you upon 
 my honour. 
 
 Faulk. My dear friend ! Hollo, Du Peigne ! 
 my hat my dear Jack now nothing on earth can 
 give me a moment's uneasiness. 
 
 Enter FAG 
 
 Fag. Sir, Mr. Acres, just arrived, is below. 
 
 Abs. Stay, Faulkland, this Acres lives within 
 a mile of Sir Anthony, and he shall tell you how 
 your mistress has been ever since you left her. 
 Fag, show the gentleman up. \_Exit FAG. 
 
 Faulk. What, is he much acquainted in the 
 family ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, very intimate : I insist on your not 
 going : besides, his character will divert you. 
 
 Faulk. Well, I should like to ask him a few 
 questions. 
 
 Abs. He is likewise a rival of mine that is, of 
 my other selfs, for he does not think his friend 
 Captain Absolute ever saw the lady in question ; 
 and it is ridiculous enough to hear him complain 
 to me of one Be-verley, a concealed skulking rival, 
 who 
 
 Faulk. Hush ! He's here. 
 
 Enter ACRES 
 
 Acres. Hah! my dear friend, noble captain, 
 and honest Jack, how do'st thou ? just arrived, 
 faith, as you see. Sir, your humble servant.
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 237 
 
 Warm work on the roads, Jack Odds whips 
 and wheels ! I've travelled like a comet, with a 
 tail of dust all the way as long as the Mall. 
 
 Abs. Ah ! Bob, you are indeed an eccentric 
 planet, but we know your attraction hither 
 Give me leave to introduce Mr. Faulkland to 
 you ; Mr. Faulkland, Mr. Acres. 
 
 Acres. Sir, I am most heartily glad to see you : 
 Sir, I solicit your connexions. Hey, Jack what, 
 this is Mr. Faulkland, who 
 
 Abs. Ay, Bob, Miss Melville's Mr. Faulkland. 
 
 Acres. Odd so ! she and your father can be but 
 just arrived before me I suppose you have seen 
 them. Ah ! Mr. Faulkland, you are indeed a 
 happy man. 
 
 Faulk. I have not seen Miss Melville yet, sir ; 
 I hope she enjoyed full health and spirits in 
 Devonshire ? 
 
 Acres. Never knew her better in my life, sir, 
 never better. Odds blushes and blooms ! she 
 has been as healthy as the German Spa. 
 
 Faulk. Indeed ! I did hear that she had been 
 a little indisposed. 
 
 Acres. False, false, sir only said to vex you : 
 quite the reverse, I assure you. 
 
 Faulk. There, Jack, you see she has the 
 advantage of me ; I had almost fretted myself 
 ill. 
 
 Abs. Now are you angry with your mistress for 
 not having been sick. 
 
 Faulk. No, no, you misunderstand me : yet 
 surely a little trifling indisposition is not an un- 
 natural consequence of absence from those we love.
 
 238 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Now confess isn't there something unkind in 
 this violent, robust, unfeeling health ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, it was very unkind of her to be well 
 in your absence, to be sure ! 
 
 Acres. Good apartments, Jack. 
 
 Faulk. Well, sir, but you was saying that Miss 
 Melville has been so exceedingly well what then 
 .she has been merry and gay, I suppose ? Always 
 in spirits hey? 
 
 Acres. Merry, odds crickets ! she has been the 
 belle and spirit of the company wherever she has 
 been so lively and entertaining ! so full of wit 
 and humour ! 
 
 Faulk. There, Jack, there. Oh, by my soul ! 
 there is an innate levity in women, that nothing 
 can overcome. What ! happy, and I away ! 
 
 Abs. Have done : How foolish this is ! just 
 now you were only apprehensive for your mistress's 
 spirits. 
 
 Faulk. Why, Jack, have I been the joy and 
 spirit of the company ? 
 
 Abs. No indeed, you have not. 
 
 Faulk. Have I been lively and entertaining ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, upon my word, I acquit you. 
 
 Faulk. Have I been full of wit and humour ? 
 
 Abs. No, faith, to do you justice, you have 
 been confoundedly stupid indeed. 
 
 Acres. What's the matter with the gentleman ? 
 
 Abs. He is only expressing his great satisfaction 
 at hearing that Julia has been so well and happy 
 that's all hey, Faulkland ? 
 
 Faulk. Oh ! I am rejoiced to hear it yes, yes, 
 she has a happy disposition !
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 239 
 
 Acres.- That she has indeed then she is so 
 accomplished so sweet a voice so expert at her 
 harpsichord such a mistress of flat and sharp, 
 squall ante, rumblante, and quiverante ! there was 
 this time month Odds minnums and crotchets ! 
 how she did chirrup at Mrs. Piano's concert ! 
 
 Faulk. There again, what say you to this? you 
 see she has been all mirth and song not a thought 
 of me ! 
 
 Abs. Pho ! man, is not music the food of love ? 
 
 Faulk. Well, well, it may be so. Pray, Mr. 
 
 , what's his d d name ! Do you remember 
 what songs Miss Melville sung? 
 
 Acres. Not I indeed. 
 
 Abs. Stay now, they were some pretty melan- 
 choly purling-stream airs, I warrant ; perhaps you 
 may recollect ; did she sing, " When absent from 
 my soul's delight " ? 
 
 Acres. No, that wa'n't it. 
 
 Abs. Or, "Go, gentle gales!" "Go, gentle 
 gales ! " (Sings.} 
 
 Acres. Oh no ! nothing like it. Odds ! now I 
 recollect one of them " My heart's my own, my 
 will is free." (Sings.} 
 
 Faulk. Fool, fool that I am ! to fix all my 
 happiness on such a trifler ! 'Sdeath ! to make 
 herself the pipe and ballad-monger of a circle ! to 
 soothe her light heart with catches and glees! 
 What can you say to this, sir ? 
 
 Abs. Why, that I should be glad to hear my 
 mistress had been so merry, sir. 
 
 Faulk. Nay, nay, nay, I'm not sorry that she 
 has been happy no, no, I am glad of that I
 
 2 4 o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 would not have had her sad or sick yet surely a 
 sympathetic heart would have shown itself even in 
 the choice of a song she might have been temper- 
 ately healthy, and somehow, plaintively gay ; but 
 she has been dancing too, I doubt not ! 
 
 Acres. What does the gentleman say about 
 dancing ? 
 
 Abs. He says the lady we speak of dances as 
 well as she sings. 
 
 Acres. Ay truly, does she there was at our 
 last race ball 
 
 Faulk. Hell and the devil ! There ! there I 
 told you so ! I told you so ! Oh ! she thrives in 
 my absence! Dancing! but her whole feelings 
 have been in opposition with mine ; I have been 
 anxious, silent, pensive, sedentary my days have 
 been hours of care, my nights of watchfulness. 
 She has been all health ! spirit ! laugh ! song ! 
 dance ! Oh ! d n'd, d n'd levity ! 
 
 Abs. For Heaven's sake, Faulkland, don't ex- 
 pose yourself so. Suppose she has danced, what 
 then? does not the ceremony of society often 
 oblige 
 
 Faulk. Well, well, I'll contain myself perhaps 
 as you say for form sake. What, Mr. Acres, you 
 were praising Miss Melville's manner of dancing a 
 minuet hey ? 
 
 Acres. Oh, I dare insure her for that but what 
 I was going to speak of was her country-dancing : 
 Odds swimmings ! she has such an air with 
 her! 
 
 Faulk. Now disappointment on her ! defend 
 this, Absolute ; why don't you defend this ?
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 241 
 
 Country-dances ! jigs and reels ! am I to blame 
 now? A minuet I could have forgiven I should 
 not have minded that I say I should not have re- 
 garded a minuet but country-dances! Z ds ! 
 had she made one in a cotillion I believe I could 
 have forgiven even that but to be monkey-led 
 for a night ! to run the gauntlet through a string 
 of amorous palming puppies ! to show paces like 
 a managed filly ! Oh Jack, there never can be but 
 one man in the world, whom a truly modest and 
 delicate woman ought to pair with in a country- 
 dance ; and even then, the rest of the couples 
 should be her great-uncles and aunts ! 
 
 Abs. Ay, to be sure ! grandfathers and grand- 
 mothers ! 
 
 Faulk. If there be but one vicious mind in the 
 set, 'twill spread like a contagion the action of 
 their pulse beats to the lascivious movement of 
 the jig their quivering, warm-breathed sighs im- 
 pregnate the very air the atmosphere becomes 
 electrical to love, and each amorous spark darts 
 through every link of the chain ! I must leave 
 you I own I am somewhat flurried and that 
 confounded looby has perceived it. (Going.] 
 
 Abs. Nay, but stay, Faulkland, and thank Mr. 
 Acres for his good news. 
 
 Faulk. D n his news! [Exit FAULKLAND. 
 
 Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! poor Faulkland five 
 minutes since " nothing on earth could give 
 him a moment's uneasiness ! " 
 
 Acres. The gentleman wa'n't angry at my 
 praising his mistress, was he ? 
 
 Abs. A little jealous, I believe, Bob.
 
 24.2 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Acres. You don't say so ? Ha ! ha ! jealous of 
 me that's a good joke. 
 
 Abs. There's nothing strange in that, Bob ; Jet 
 me tell you, that sprightly grace and insinuating 
 manner of yours will do some mischief among the 
 girls here. 
 
 Acres. Ah ! you joke ha ! ha ! mischief ha ! 
 ha ! but you know I am not my own property, 
 my dear Lydia has forestalled me. She could 
 never abide me in the country, because I used to 
 dress so badly but odds frogs and tambours ! I 
 shan't take matters so here now ancient madam 
 has no voice in it I'll make my old clothes know 
 who's master -I shall straightway cashier the 
 hunting-frock and render my leather breeches 
 incapable My hair has been in training some 
 time. 
 
 Abs. Indeed! 
 
 Acres. Ay and thoff the side curls are a little 
 restive, my hind-part takes it very kindly. 
 
 Abs. Oh, you'll polish, I doubt not. 
 
 Acres. Absolutely I propose so then if I can 
 find out this Ensign Beverley, odds triggers and 
 flints ! I'll make him know the difference o't. 
 
 Abs. Spoke like a man but pray, Bob, I ob- 
 serve you have got an odd kind of a new method 
 of swearing 
 
 Acres. Ha! ha! youve taken notice of it 
 'tis genteel, isn't it? I didn't invent it myself 
 though ; but a commander in our militia a great 
 scholar, I assure you says that there is no mean- 
 ing in the common oaths, and that nothing but 
 their antiquity makes them respectable ; because,
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 243 
 
 he says, the ancients would never stick to an oath 
 or two, but would say, by Jove ! or by Bacchus ! 
 or by Mars ! or by Venus ! or by Pallas ! according 
 to the sentiment so that to swear with propriety, 
 says my little major, the " oath should be an echo 
 to the sense " ; and this we call the oath referential^ 
 or sentimental swearing ha ! ha ! ha ! 'tis genteel, 
 isn't it ? 
 
 Abs. Very genteel, and very new indeed and 
 I daresay will supplant all other figures of im- 
 precation. 
 
 Acres. Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obso- 
 lete Damns have had their day. 
 
 Enter FAG 
 
 Fag. Sir, there is a gentleman below desires to 
 see you Shall I show him into the parlour? 
 
 Abs. Ay you may. 
 
 Acres. Well,. I must be gone 
 
 Abs. Stay ; who is it, Fag ? 
 
 Fag. Your father, sir. 
 
 Abs. You puppy, why didn't you show him up 
 directly ? [Exit FAG. 
 
 Acres. You have business with Sir Anthony. 
 I expect a message from Mrs. Malaprop at my 
 lodgings I have sent also to my dear friend Sir 
 Lucius O'Trigger. Adieu, Jack, we must meet 
 at night, when you shall give me a dozen bumpers 
 to little Lydia. 
 
 Abs. That I will with all my heart. 
 
 [Exit ACRES. 
 Now for a parental lecture I hope he has heard
 
 244 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 nothing of the business that has brought me here 
 I wish the gout had held him fast in Devonshire, 
 with all my soul ! 
 
 Enter Sir ANTHONY 
 
 Sir, I am delighted to see you here ; and looking 
 so well ! your sudden arrival at Bath made me 
 apprehensive for your health. 
 
 Sir Anth. Very apprehensive, I daresay, Jack. 
 What, you are recruiting here, hey ? 
 
 Abs. Yes, sir, I am on duty. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, 
 though I did not expect it, for I was going to 
 write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, 
 I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, 
 and shall probably not trouble you long. 
 
 Abs. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look 
 more strong and hearty ; and I pray frequently 
 that you may continue so. 
 
 Sir Anth. I hope your prayers may be heard, 
 with all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been 
 considering that I am so strong and hearty, I may 
 continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, 
 I am sensible that the income of your commission, 
 and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a 
 small pittance for a lad of your spirit. 
 
 Abs. Sir, you are very good. 
 
 Sir Anth. And it is my wish, while yet I live, 
 to have my boy make some figure in the world. 
 I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a 
 noble independence. 
 
 Abs. Sir, your kindness overpowers me such
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 245 
 
 generosity makes the gratitude of reason more 
 lively than the sensations even of filial affection. 
 
 Sir Anth. I am glad you are so sensible of my 
 attention and you shall be master of a large 
 estate in a few weeks. 
 
 'Abs. Let my "future life, sir, speak my grati- 
 tude ; I cannot express the sense I have of your 
 munificence. Yet, sir, I presume you would not 
 wish me to quit the army ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Oh, that shall be as your wife chooses. 
 
 Abs. My wife, sir ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Ay, ay, settle that between you 
 settle that between you. 
 
 Abs. A wife, sir, did you say ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Ay, a wife why, did not I mention 
 her before ? 
 
 Abs. Not a word of her, sir. 
 
 Sir Anth. Odd so! I mustn't forget her 
 though. : Yes, Jack, the independence I was talk- 
 ing of is by a -marriage the fortune is saddled 
 with a wife but I suppose that makes no difference. 
 
 Abs. Sir ! sir ! you amaze me ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Why, what the devil's the matter 
 with the fool ? Just now you were all gratitude 
 and duty. 
 
 Abs. I was, sir, you talked to me of inde- 
 pendence and a fortune, but not a word of a wife. 
 
 Sir Anth. Why what difference does that 
 make ? Odds life, sir ! if you have the estate, you 
 must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. 
 
 Abs. If my happiness is to be the price, I must 
 
 beg leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, 
 
 who is the lady ?
 
 246 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Sir Anth. What's that to you, sir? Come, 
 give me your promise to love, and to marry her 
 directly. 
 
 Abs. Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to 
 summon my affections for a lady I know nothing 
 of! 
 
 Sir Anth. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable 
 in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. 
 
 Abs. Then, sir, I must tell you plainly, that 
 my inclinations are fixed on another my heart is 
 engaged to an angel. 
 
 Sir Anth. Then pray let it send an excuse. 
 It is very sorry but business prevents its waiting 
 on her. 
 
 Abs. But my vows are pledged to her. 
 
 Sir Anth. Let her foreclose, Jack ; let her fore- 
 close ; they are not worth redeeming ; besides, you 
 have the angel's vows in exchange, I suppose ; so 
 there can be no loss there. 
 
 Abs. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, 
 once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. 
 
 Sir Anth. Hark'ee, Jack ; I have heard you 
 for some time with patience I have been cool- 
 quite cool ; but take care you know I am com- 
 pliance itself when I am not thwarted ; no one 
 more easily led when I have my own way ; 
 but don't put me in a frenzy. 
 
 Abs. Sir, I must repeat it in this I' cannot 
 obey you. 
 
 Sir Anth. Now d n me ! if ever I call you 
 Jack again while I live ! 
 
 Abs. Nay, sir, but hear me. 
 
 Sir Anth. Sir, I won't hear a word not a
 
 Sir Anthony. Noiu dn me ! if ever I call you Jack again!
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 249 
 
 word ! not one word ! so give me your promise 
 by a nod and I'll tell you what, Jack I mean, 
 you dog if you don't by 
 
 Abs. What, sir, promise to link myself to some 
 mass of ugliness ! to 
 
 Sir Anth. Z ds ! sirrah ! the lady shall be as 
 ugly as I choose : she shall have a hump on each 
 shoulder ; she shall be as crooked as the Crescent ; 
 her one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's 
 Museum ; she shall have a skin like a mummy, 
 and the beard of a Jew she shall be all this, 
 sirrah ! yet I will make you ogle her all day, and 
 sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty. 
 
 Abs. This is reason and moderation indeed ! 
 
 Sir Anth. None of your sneering, puppy ! no 
 grinning, jackanapes ! 
 
 Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse 
 humour for mirth in my life. 
 
 Sir Anth. 'Tis false, sir, I know you are laugh- 
 ing in your sleeve ; I know you'll grin when I am 
 gone, sirrah ! 
 
 Abs. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 
 
 Sir Anth. None of your passion, sir ! none of 
 your violence ; if you please It won't do with me, 
 I promise you. 
 
 Abs. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. 
 
 Sir Anth. 'Tis a confounded lie ! I know you 
 are in a passion in your heart ; I know you are, 
 you hypocritical young dog ! but it won't do. 
 
 Abs. Nay, sir, upon my word. 
 
 Sir Anth. So you will fly out ! can't you be 
 cool like me ? What the devil good can passion 
 do ? Passion is of no service, you impudent,
 
 5 o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There you sneer 
 again ! don't provoke me ! but you rely upon 
 the mildness of my temper you do, you dog ! 
 you play upon the meekness of my disposition ! 
 Yet take care the patience of a saint may be 
 overcome at last! but mark! I give you six 
 hours and a half to consider of this : if you then 
 agree, without any condition, to do everything on 
 earth that I choose, why confound you ! I may 
 in time forgive you If not, z ds ! don't enter 
 the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to 
 breathe the same air, or use the same light with 
 me ; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your 
 own ! I'll strip you of your commission ; I'll 
 lodge a five -and -threepence in the hands of 
 trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I'll 
 disown you, I'll disinherit you, I'll unget you ! 
 and d n me ! if ever I call you Jack again ! 
 
 [Exit Sir ANTHONY. 
 
 ABSOLUTE solus 
 
 Abs. Mild, gentle, considerate father I kiss 
 your hands. What a tender method of giving his 
 opinion in these matters Sir Anthony has ! I dare 
 not trust him with the truth. I wonder what 
 old wealthy hag it is that he wants to bestow on 
 me ! yet he married himself for love ! and was in 
 his youth a bold intriguer, and a gay companion ! 
 
 Enter FAG 
 Fag. Assuredly, sir, your father is wrath to a
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 251 
 
 degree ; he comes downstairs eight or ten steps at 
 a time muttering, growling, and thumping the 
 banisters all the way : I and the cook's dog stand 
 bowing at the door rap ! he gives me a stroke on 
 the head with his cane ; bids me carry that to my 
 master; then kicking the poor turnspit into the 
 area, d ns us all, for a puppy triumvirate ! 
 Upon my credit, sir, were I in your place, and 
 found my father such very bad company, I should 
 certainly drop his acquaintance. 
 
 Abs. Cease your impertinence, sir, at present. 
 Did you come in for nothing more ? Stand out 
 of the way ! [Pushes him aside, and exit. 
 
 FAG solus 
 
 Fag. Soh ! Sir Anthony trims my master : he 
 is afraid to reply to his father then vents his 
 spleen on poor Fag ! When one is vexed by one 
 person, to revenge one's self on another, who hap- 
 pens to come in the way, is the vilest injustice ! 
 Ah ! it shows the worst temper the basest 
 
 Enter ERRAND BOY 
 
 Boy. Mr. Fag ! Mr. Fag ! your master calls you. 
 
 Fag. Well ! you little dirty puppy, you need 
 not bawl so ! The meanest disposition ! the 
 
 Boy. Quick, quick, Mr. Fag. 
 
 Fag. Quick ! quick ! you impudent jacka- 
 napes ! am I to be commanded by you too ? you 
 little, impertinent, insolent, kitchen-bred 
 
 [Exit kicking and beating him*
 
 252 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 SCENE II. The North Parade 
 
 Enter LUCY 
 
 Lucy. So I shall have another rival to add to 
 my mistress's list Captain Absolute. However, 
 I shall not enter his name till my purse has re- 
 ceived notice in form. Poor Acres is dismissed ! 
 Well, I have done him a last friendly office, in 
 letting him know that Beverley was here before 
 him. Sir Lucius is generally more punctual, when 
 he expects to hear from his dear Dalia, as he calls 
 her: I wonder he's not here! I have a little 
 scruple of conscience from this deceit ; though I 
 should not be paid so well, if my hero knew that 
 Delia was near fifty, and her own mistress. 
 
 Enter Sir Lucius O'TRIGGER 
 
 Sir Luc. Hah ! my little ambassadress upon 
 my conscience, I have been looking for you ; I 
 have been on the South Parade this half hour. 
 
 Lucy. (Speaking simply.'] O Gemini ! and I 
 have been waiting for your worship here on the 
 North. 
 
 Sir Luc. Faith ! may be, that was the reason 
 we did not meet ; and it is very comical too, how 
 you could go out and I not see you for I was 
 only taking a nap at the Parade Coffee-house, and 
 I chose the window on purpose that I might not 
 miss you.
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 253 
 
 Lucy. My stars ! Now I'd wager a sixpence I 
 went by while you were asleep. 
 
 Sir Luc. Sure enough it must have been so 
 and I never dreamt it was so late, till I waked. 
 Well, but my little girl, have you got nothing for 
 me? 
 
 Lucy. Yes, but I have I've got a letter for 
 you in my pocket. 
 
 Sir Luc. Oh faith ! I guessed you weren't come 
 empty-handed well Jet me see what the dear 
 creature says. 
 
 Lucy. There, Sir Lucius. (Gives him a letter.'] 
 
 Sir Luc. (Reads) "&> there is often a sudden 
 incentive impulse in love^ that has a greater induc- 
 tion than years of domestic combination : such was 
 the commotion I felt at the first superfluous view of 
 Sir Lucius O'Trigger." Very pretty, upon my 
 word. " Female punctuation forbids me to say more ; 
 yet let me add^ that it will give me joy infallible to 
 find Sir Lucius, worthy the last criterion of my 
 affections. DELIA." 
 
 Upon my conscience ! Lucy, your lady is a great 
 mistress of language. Faith, she's quite the queen 
 of the dictionary ! for the devil a word dare 
 refuse coming at her call though one would think 
 it was quite out of hearing. 
 
 Lucy. Ay, sir, a lady of her experience. 
 
 Sir Luc. Experience ? what, at seventeen ? 
 
 Lucy. Oh true, sir but then she reads so my 
 stars ! how she will read off hand ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Faith, she must be very deep read to 
 write this way though she is rather an arbitrary 
 writer too for here are a great many poor
 
 254 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT 11 
 
 words pressed into the service of this note, that 
 would get their habeas corpus from any court in 
 Christendom. 
 
 Lucy. Ah ! Sir Lucius, if you were to hear how 
 she talks of you ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Oh tell "her I'll make her the best 
 husband in the world, and Lady O'Trigger into 
 the bargain ! But we must get the old gentle- 
 woman's consent and do everything fairly. 
 
 Lucy. Nay, Sir Lucius, I thought you wa'n't 
 rich enough to be so nice ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Upon my word, young woman, you 
 have hit it : I am so poor, that I can't afford to 
 do a dirty action. If I did not want money, I'd 
 steal your mistress and her fortune with a great 
 deal of pleasure. However, my pretty girl (gives 
 her money'] , here's a little something to buy you a 
 riband ; and meet me in the evening, and I'll give 
 you an answer to this. So, hussy, take a kiss 
 beforehand, to put you in mind. (Kisses her.) 
 
 Lucy. O lud ! Sir Lucius I never seed such 
 a gemman ! My lady won't like you if you're so 
 impudent. 
 
 Sir Luc. Faith she will, Lucy that same 
 pho ! what's the name of it? Modesty! is a 
 quality in a lover more praised by the women 
 than liked ; so, if your mistress asks you whether 
 Sir Lucius ever gave you a kiss, tell her fifty my 
 dear. 
 
 Lucy. What, would you have me tell her a lie? 
 
 Sir Luc. Ah then, you baggage ! I'll make it a 
 truth presently. 
 
 Lucy. For shame now ; here is some one coming.
 
 Sir Lucius. So, Auisy, take a tin befirthmd, to fat you in mind.
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 257 
 
 Sir Luc. Oh faith, I'll quiet your conscience ! 
 [Sees FAG. Exit, humming a tune. 
 
 Enter FAG 
 
 Fag. So, so, ma'am. I humbly beg pardon. 
 
 Lucy. O lud ! now, Mr. Fag you flurry 
 one so. 
 
 Fag. Come, come, Lucy, here's no one by 
 so a little less simplicity, with a grain or two more 
 sincerity, if you please. -You play false with 
 
 us, madam. 1 saw you give the baronet a 
 
 letter. My master shall know this and if he 
 don't call him out, I will. 
 
 Lucy. Ha ! ha ! ha ! you gentlemen's gentle- 
 men are so hasty. That letter was from Mrs. 
 Malaprop, simpleton. She is taken with Sir 
 Lucius's address. 
 
 Fag. How ! what tastes some people have ! 
 Why, I suppose I have walked by her window an 
 hundred times. But what says our young lady? 
 Any message to my master ? 
 
 Lucy. Sad news! Mr. Fag. A worse rival 
 than Acres ! Sir Anthony Absolute has proposed 
 his son. 
 
 Fag. What, Captain Absolute? 
 
 Lucy. Even so I overheard it all. 
 
 Fag. Ha ! ha ! ha ! very good, faith. Good- 
 bye, Lucy, I must away with this news. 
 
 Lucy. Well, you may laugh but it is true, I 
 assure you. (Going.') But Mr. Fag tell your 
 master not to be cast down by this. 
 
 Fag. Oh, he'll be so disconsolate ! 
 s
 
 258 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT n 
 
 Lucy. And charge him not to think of quarrel- 
 ling with young Absolute. 
 
 Fag. Never fear ! never fear ! 
 
 Lucy. Be sure bid him keep up his spirits. 
 
 Fag. We will we will. [Exeunt severally.
 
 ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. The North Parade 
 Enter ABSOLUTE 
 
 Abs. 'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed. 
 Whimsical enough, faith ! My father wants to 
 force me to marry the very girl I am plotting 
 to run away with ! He must not know of my 
 connexion with her yet awhile. He has too 
 summary a method of proceeding in these matters. 
 However, I'll read my recantation instantly. 
 My conversion is something sudden, indeed but 
 I can assure him it is very sincere. -So, so, 
 here he comes. He looks plaguy gruff. 
 
 \_Steps aside. 
 
 Enter Sir ANTHONY 
 
 Sir Anth. No I'll die sooner than forgive him. 
 Die, did I say ? I'll live these fifty years to 
 plague him. At our last meeting, his impudence 
 had almost put me out of temper. An obstinate, 
 passionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take
 
 2 6o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 after ? This is my return for getting him before 
 all his brothers and sisters ! for putting him, at 
 twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and 
 allowing him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, 
 ever since ! But I have done with him ; he's 
 anybody's son for me. I never will see him more, 
 never never never never. 
 
 Abs. Now for a penitential face. 
 
 Sir Anth. Fellow, get out of my way. 
 
 Abs. Sir, you see a penitent before you. 
 
 Sir Anth. I see an impudent scoundrel before me. 
 
 Abs. A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to 
 acknowledge my error, and to submit entirely to 
 your will. 
 
 Sir Anth. What's that ? 
 
 Abs. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and 
 considering on your past goodness, and kindness, 
 and condescension to me. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, sir ? 
 
 Abs. I have been likewise weighing and balanc- 
 ing what you were pleased to mention concerning 
 duty, and obedience, and authority. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, puppy? 
 
 Abs. Why then, sir, the result of my reflections 
 is a resolution to sacrifice every inclination of my 
 own to your satisfaction. 
 
 Sir Anth. Why now you talk sense absolute 
 sense I never heard anything more sensible in my 
 life. Confound you ! you shall be Jack again. 
 
 Abs. I am happy in the appellation. 
 
 Sir Anth. Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I 
 will now inform you who the lady really is. 
 Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly
 
 Sir Anthony. / see an impudent scoundrel before me.
 
 SC. I THE RIVALS 263 
 
 fellow, prevented my telling you at first. Prepare, 
 Jack, for wonder and rapture prepare. What 
 think you of Miss Lydia Languish ? 
 
 Abs. Languish ? What, the Languishes of 
 Worcestershire ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Worcestershire ! No. Did you never 
 meet Mrs. Malaprop and her niece, Miss Languish, 
 who came into our country just before you were 
 last ordered to your regiment ? 
 
 Abs. Malaprop ! Languish ! I don't remember 
 ever to have heard the names before. Yet, stay 
 I think I do recollect something. Languish I 
 
 Languish ! She squints, don't she ? A little 
 
 red-haired girl ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Squints ! A red-haired girl ! 
 
 Z ds ! no. 
 
 Abs. Then I must have forgot ; it can't be the 
 same person. 
 
 Sir Anth. Jack ! Jack ! what think you of 
 blooming, love-breathing seventeen ? 
 
 Abs. As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. 
 If I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I 
 desire. 
 
 Sir Anth. Nay, but, Jack, such eyes ! such eyes ! 
 so innocently wild ! so bashfully irresolute ! Not 
 a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of 
 Jove ! Then, Jack, her cheeks ! her cheeks, Jack ! 
 so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell- 
 tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips ! Oh Jack, lips 
 smiling at their own discretion ; and if not smiling, 
 more sweetly pouting ; more lovely in sullenness ! 
 
 Abs. That's she indeed. Well done, old 
 gentleman ! \_Aside.
 
 264 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Sir Anth. Then, Jack, her neck ! Oh Jack ! 
 Jack! 
 
 Abs. And which is to be mine, sir, the niece or 
 the aunt ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, 
 I despise you. When I was of your age, such a 
 description would have made me fly like a rocket ! 
 The aunt, indeed ! Odds life ! when I ran away 
 with your mother, I would not have touched any- 
 thing old or ugly to gain an empire. 
 
 Abs. Not to please your father, sir ? 
 
 Sir Anth. To please my father ! -Z ds ! 
 
 not to please Oh, my father Odd sol- 
 yes yes ; if my father indeed had desired 
 that's quite another matter. -Though he wa'n't 
 the indulgent father that I am, Jack. 
 
 Abs. I daresay not, sir. 
 
 Sir Anth. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find 
 your mistress is so beautiful ? 
 
 Abs. Sir, I repeat it if I please you in this 
 affair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman 
 the worse for being handsome ; but, sir, if you 
 please to recollect, you before hinted something 
 about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more 
 graces of that kind now, without being very 
 nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine 
 to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited 
 quantity of back : and though one eye may be 
 very agreeable, yet as the prejudice has always run 
 in favour of two, I would not wish to affect a 
 singularity in that article. 
 
 Sir Anth. What a phlegmatic sot it is ! Why, 
 sirrah, you're an anchorite! a vile, insensible
 
 
 
 Capt Ahsolute. Not to flcau your father, fir ?
 
 sc. n THE RIVALS 267 
 
 stock. You a soldier ! you're a walking block, 
 fit only to dust the company's regimentals on ! 
 Odds life ! I've a great mind to marry the girl 
 myself ! 
 
 Abs. I am entirely at your disposal, sir : if you 
 should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, 
 I suppose you would have me marry the aunt ; or 
 if you should change your mind, and take the old 
 lady 'tis the same to me I'll marry the niece. 
 
 Sir Anth. Upon my word, Jack, thou'rt either 
 
 a very great hypocrite, or but, come, I know 
 
 your indifference on such a subject must be all 
 a lie I'm sure it must come, now damn your 
 demure face ! come, confess, Jack you have been 
 lying ha'n't you ? You have been playing the 
 hypocrite, hey? I'll never forgive you, if you 
 ha'n't been lying and playing the hypocrite. 
 
 Abs. I'm sorry, sir, that the respect and duty 
 which I bear to you should be so mistaken. 
 
 Sir Anth. Hang your respect and duty ! But 
 come along with me, I'll write a note to Mrs. 
 Malaprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. 
 Her eyes shall be the Promethean torch to you, 
 come along, I'll never forgive you, if you don't 
 come back stark mad with rapture and impatience 
 if you don't, egad, I'll marry the girl myself! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. JULIA'S Dressing-room 
 
 FAULKLAND solus 
 Faulk. They told me Julia would return
 
 268 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT HI 
 
 directly ; I wonder she is not yet come ! How 
 mean does this captious, unsatisfied temper of 
 mine appear to my cooler judgment ! Yet I 
 know not that I indulge it in any other point : 
 but on this one subject, and to this one subject, 
 whom I think I love beyond my life, I am ever 
 ungenerously fretful and madly capricious ! I 
 am conscious of it yet I cannot correct myself! 
 What tender honest joy sparkled in her eyes when 
 we met ! How delicate was the warmth of her 
 expressions ! I was ashamed to appear less happy 
 though I had come resolved to wear a face of 
 coolness and upbraiding. Sir Anthony's presence 
 prevented my proposed expostulations : yet I 
 must be satisfied that she has not been so very 
 happy in my absence. She is coming ! Yes ! I 
 know the nimbleness of her tread, when she thinks 
 her impatient Faulkland counts the moments of 
 her stay. 
 
 Enter JULIA 
 
 Julia. I had not hoped to see you again so soon. 
 
 Faulk. Could I, Julia, be contented with my 
 first welcome restrained as we were by the 
 presence of a third person ? 
 
 Julia. Oh Faulkland, when your kindness can 
 make me thus happy, Jet me not think that I 
 discovered something of coldness in your first 
 salutation. 
 
 Faulk. 'Twas but your fancy, Julia. I was 
 rejoiced to see you to see you in such health 
 Sure I had no cause for coldness?
 
 sc. n THE RIVALS 269 
 
 Julia. Nay then, I see you have taken some- 
 thing ill. You must not conceal from me what 
 it is. 
 
 Faulk. Well, then shall I own to you that 
 my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, 
 by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped 
 by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had 
 enjoyed in Devonshire on your mirth your 
 singing dancing, and I know not what ! For 
 such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard 
 every mirthful moment in your absence as a 
 treason to constancy : The mutual tear that 
 steals down the cheek of parting lovers is a 
 compact, that no smile shall live there till they 
 meet again. 
 
 Julia. Must I never cease to tax my Faulkland 
 with this teasing minute caprice? Can the idle 
 reports of a silly boor weigh in your breast against 
 my tried affection ? 
 
 Faulk. They have no weight with me, Julia : 
 No, no I am happy if you have been so yet 
 only say, that you did not sing with mirth say 
 that you thought of Faulkland in the dance. 
 
 Julia. I never can be happy in your absence. 
 If I wear a countenance of content, it is to show 
 that my mind holds no doubt of my Faulkland's 
 truth. If I seemed sad, it were to make malice 
 triumph ; and say, that I had fixed my heart on 
 one, who left me to lament his roving, and my 
 own credulity. Believe me, Faulkland, I mean not 
 to upbraid you, when I say, that I have often 
 dressed sorrow in smiles, lest my friends should 
 guess whose unkindness had caused my tears.
 
 2 yo SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Faulk. You were ever all goodness to me. 
 Oh, I am a brute, when I but admit a doubt of 
 your true constancy ! 
 
 'Julia. If ever without such cause from you, as 
 I will not suppose possible, you find my affections 
 veering but a point, may I become a proverbial 
 scoff for levity and base ingratitude. 
 
 Faulk. Ah ! Julia, that last word is grating to 
 me. I would I had no title to your gratitude ! 
 Search your heart, Julia ; perhaps what you have 
 mistaken for love, is but the warm effusion of a 
 too thankful heart ! 
 
 Julia. For what quality must I love you ? 
 
 Faulk. For no quality ! To regard me for 
 any quality of mind or understanding, were 
 only to esteem me. And for person I have 
 often wished myself deformed, to be convinced 
 that I owed no obligation there for any part of 
 your affection. . 
 
 Julia. Where nature has bestowed a show of 
 nice attention in the features of a man, he should 
 laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who in 
 this vain article, perhaps, might rank above you ; 
 but my heart has never asked my eyes if it were so 
 or not. 
 
 Faulk. Now this is not well fromjyo, Julia, 
 I despise person in a man yet, if you loved me 
 as I wish, though I were an ^thiop, you'd think 
 none so fair. 
 
 Julia. I see you are determined to be unkind 
 The contract which my poor father bound us in 
 gives you more than a lover's privilege. 
 
 Faulk. Again, Julia, you raise ideas that feed
 
 sc. n THE RIVALS 271 
 
 and justify my doubts. 1 would not have been 
 
 more free no I am proud of my restraint. 
 
 Yet yet perhaps your high respect alone for 
 this solemn compact has fettered your inclinations, 
 which else had made a worthier choice. How 
 shall I be sure, had you remained unbound in 
 thought and promise, that I should still have been 
 the object of your persevering love ? 
 
 Julia. Then try me now. Let us be free as 
 strangers as to what is past : my heart will not 
 feel more liberty ! 
 
 Faulk. There now ! so hasty, Julia ! so anxious 
 to be free ! If your love for me were fixed and 
 ardent, you would not loose your hold, even though 
 I wished it ! 
 
 Julia. Oh ! you torture me to the heart ! I 
 cannot bear it. 
 
 Faulk. I do not mean to distress you. If I 
 loved you less, I should never give you an uneasy 
 moment. But hear me. All my fretful doubts 
 arise from this. Women are not used to weigh, 
 and separate the motives of their affections : the 
 cold dictates of prudence, gratitude, or filial duty, 
 may sometimes be mistaken for the pleadings of 
 the heart. I would not boast yet let me 
 say, that I have neither age, person, nor character, 
 to found dislike on ; my fortune such as few 
 ladies could be charged with indiscretion in the 
 match.- Oh Julia! when Love receives such 
 countenance from Prudence, nice minds will be 
 suspicious of its birth. 
 
 Julia. I know not whither your insinuations 
 would tend : But as they seem pressing to insult
 
 272 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 me, I will spare you the regret of having done so. 
 
 I have given you no cause for this ! 
 
 [Exit in tears. 
 Faulk. In tears ! Stay, Julia : stay but for a 
 
 moment. The door is fastened ! Julia ! my 
 
 soul but for one moment : I hear her sobbing ! 
 'Sdeath ! what a brute am I to use her thus ! 
 Yet stay. Ay she is coming now : how little 
 resolution there is in woman ! how a few soft 
 words can turn them ! No, faith ! she is nor 
 
 coming either. Why, Julia my love say but 
 
 that you forgive me come but to tell me that 
 now this is being too resentful : stay ! she is coming 
 too I thought she would no steadiness in any- 
 thing ! her going away must have been a mere 
 trick then she shan't see that I was hurt by it. 
 I'll affect indifference (hums a tune ; then listens'] 
 
 No Z ds ! she's not coming ! nor don't 
 
 intend it, I suppose. This is not steadiness but 
 obstinacy ! Yet I deserve it. What, after so 
 long an absence to quarrel with her tenderness ! 
 
 -'twas barbarous and unmanly ! I should be 
 ashamed to see her now. I'll wait till her just 
 resentment is abated and when I distress her so 
 again, may I lose her for ever ! and be linked 
 instead to some antique virago, whose gnawing 
 passions, and long-hoarded spleen, shall make me 
 curse my folly half the day and all the night. 
 
 [Exit,
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 
 
 273 
 
 SCENE III. Mrs. MALAPROP'S Lodgings 
 
 Mrs. MALAPROP, with a letter in her hand, and 
 Captain ABSOLUTE 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Your being Sir Anthony's son, 
 captain, would itself be a sufficient accommoda- 
 tion ; but from the ingenuity of your appearance, 
 I am convinced you deserve the character here 
 given of you. 
 
 Abs. Permit me to say, madam, that as I never 
 yet have had the pleasure of seeing Miss Languish, 
 my principal inducement in this affair at present 
 is the honour of being allied to Mrs. Malaprop ; 
 of whose intellectual accomplishments, elegant 
 manners, and unaffected learning, no tongue is silent. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir, you do me infinite honour ! I 
 beg, captain, you'll be seated. (//.) Ah ! few 
 gentlemen, nowadays, know how to value the 
 ineffectual qualities in a woman ! few think how 
 a little knowledge becomes a gentlewoman ! Men 
 
 O O 
 
 have no sense now but for the worthless flower of 
 beauty ! 
 
 Abs. It is but too true indeed, ma'am ; yet I 
 fear our ladies should share the blame they think 
 our admiration of beauty so great, that knowledge 
 in them would be superfluous. Thus, like garden- 
 trees, they seldom show fruit, till time has robbed 
 them of the more specious blossom. -Few, like 
 Mrs. Malaprop and the orange -tree, are rich in 
 both at once ! 
 
 T
 
 274 . SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir, you overpower me with good- 
 breeding He is the very pine-apple of politeness! 
 You are not ignorant, captain, that this giddy girl 
 has somehow contrived to fix her affections on a 
 beggarly, strolling, eaves-dropping ensign, whom 
 none of us have seen, and nobody knows any- 
 thing of. 
 
 Abs. Oh, I have heard the silly affair before. 
 I'm not at all prejudiced against her on that 
 account. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You are very good and very con- 
 siderate, captain. I am sure I have done every- 
 thing in my power since I exploded the affair ; 
 long ago I laid my positive conjunctions on her, 
 never to think on the fellow again ; I have since 
 laid Sir Anthony's preposition before her ; but, I 
 am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline 
 every particle that I enjoin her. 
 
 Abs. It must be very distressing, indeed, 
 ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh ! it gives me the hydrostatics 
 to such a degree ; I thought she had persisted 
 from corresponding with him ; but, behold, this 
 very day, I have interceded another letter from 
 the fellow ; I believe I have it in my pocket. 
 
 Abs. Oh the devil ! my last note. \_Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Ay, here it is. 
 
 Abs. Ay, my note indeed ! Oh, the little 
 traitress Lucy ! \_Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. There, perhaps you may know the 
 writing. [Gives him the letter. 
 
 Abs. I think I have seen the hand before yes, 
 I certainly must have seen this hand before
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 
 
 275 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Nay, but read it, captain. 
 
 Abs. (Reads. ~] " My soul's idol, my adored 
 Lydia ! ' Very tender indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Tender ! ay, and profane too, o' 
 my conscience ! 
 
 Abs. " / am excessively alarmed at the intelli- 
 gence you send me, the more so as my new rival- 
 Mrs. Mai. That's you, sir. 
 
 Abs. " Has universally the character of being an 
 accomplished gentleman, and a man of honour."- 
 Well, that's handsome enough. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh, the fellow has some design in 
 writing so. 
 
 Abs. That he had, I'll answer for him, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. But go on, sir, you'll see presently. 
 
 Abs. "As for the old weather-beaten she-dragon 
 who guards you " Who can he mean by that ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Me, sir me he means me there 
 what do you think now? but go on a little 
 farther. 
 
 Abs. Impudent scoundrel ! " // shall go hard 
 but I will elude her vigilance, as I am told that the 
 same ridiculous vanity, which makes her dress up 
 her coarse features, and deck her dull chat with 
 hard words which she dont understand 
 
 Mrs. Mai. There, sir, an attack upon my 
 language ! what do you think of that ? an asper- 
 sion upon my parts of speech ! was ever such a 
 brute ! Sure if I reprehend anything in this 
 world, it is the use of my oracular tongue, and a 
 nice derangement of epitaphs ! 
 
 Abs. He deserves to be hanged and quartered ! 
 let me see " same ridiculous vanity
 
 276 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You need not read it again, sir. 
 
 Abs. I beg pardon, ma'am " does also lay her 
 open to the grossest deceptions from Jiattery and 
 pretended admiration" an impudent coxcomb! 
 " so that I have a scheme to see you shortly with 
 the old harridan s consent^ and even to make her 
 
 a go-between in our interview." Was ever such 
 
 assurance ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Did you ever hear anything like it ? 
 -he'll elude my vigilance, will he yes, yes ! ha ! 
 ha! he's very likely to enter these doors ! we'll 
 try who can plot best ! 
 
 Abs. So we will, ma'am so we will. Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! a conceited puppy, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Well, but Mrs. Malaprop, as the girl seems so in- 
 fatuated by this fellow, suppose you were to wink 
 at her corresponding with him for a little time 
 let her even plot an elopement with him then 
 do you connive at her escape while /, just in 
 the nick, will have the fellow laid by the heels, 
 and fairly contrive to carry her off in his stead. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. I am delighted with the scheme ; 
 never was anything better perpetrated ! 
 
 Abs. But, pray, could not I see the lady for a 
 few minutes now? I should like to try her 
 temper a little. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why, I don't know 1 doubt 
 
 she is not prepared for a visit of this kind. 
 There is a decorum in these matters. 
 
 Abs. Oh Lord ! she won't mind me only tell 
 her Beverley 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir ! 
 
 Abs. Gently, good tongue. [Aside,
 
 SC. in THE RIVALS 2?7 
 
 Mrs. Mai. What did you say of BeverJey ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, I was going to propose that you 
 should tell her, by way of jest, that it was Beverley 
 who was below she'd come down fast enough 
 then ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. 'Twould be a trick she well deserves 
 besides, you know the fellow tells her he'll get 
 my consent to see her ha ! ha ! Let him if he 
 can, I say again. Lydia, come down here ! 
 (Calling.} He'll make me a go-between in their 
 interviews ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Come down, I say, 
 Lydia ! I don't wonder at your laughing, ha ! 
 ha! ha! his impudence is truly ridiculous. 
 
 Abs. 'Tis very ridiculous, upon my soul, ma'am, 
 ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. The little hussy won't hear. Well, 
 I'll go and tell her at once who it is* she shall 
 know that Captain Absolute is come to wait on 
 her. And I'll make her behave as becomes a 
 young woman. . 
 
 Abs. As you please, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. For the present, captain, your 
 servant Ah ! you've not done laughing yet, I 
 see elude my 'vigilance ! yes, yes ; ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! one would think now that 
 I might throw off all disguise at once, and seize 
 my prize with security but such is Lydia's 
 caprice, that to undeceive were probably to lose 
 her. I'll see whether she knows me. 
 
 \Walksaside, and seems engaged in looking 
 at the pictures.
 
 278 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Enter LYDIA 
 
 Lydia. What a scene am I now to go through ! 
 surely nothing can be more dreadful than to be 
 obliged to listen to the loathsome addresses of a 
 stranger to one's heart. I have heard of girls 
 persecuted as I am, who have appealed in behalf 
 of their favoured lover to the generosity of his 
 rival : suppose I were to try it there stands the 
 hated rival an officer too ! but oh, how unlike 
 my Beverley ! I wonder he don't begin truly 
 he seems a very negligent wooer ! quite at his 
 ease, upon my word ! I'll speak first Mr. 
 Absolute. 
 
 Abs. Ma'am. [Turns round. 
 
 Lydia. Oh heavens ! Beverley ! 
 
 Abs. Hush ! hush, my life ! softly ! be not 
 surprised ! 
 
 Lydia. I am so astonished ! and so terrified ! 
 and so overjoyed ! for heaven's sake ! how came 
 you here ? 
 
 Abs. Briefly, I have deceived your aunt I 
 was informed that my new rival was to visit 
 here this evening, and contriving to have him 
 kept away, have passed myself on her for Captain 
 Absolute. 
 
 Lydia. Oh, charming ! And she really takes 
 you for young Absolute ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, she's convinced of it. 
 
 Lydia. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't forbear laughing 
 to think how her sagacity is overreached ! 
 
 Abs. But we trifle with our precious moments
 
 Caftain Absolute and Lydia.
 
 SC. m THE RIVALS 281 
 
 such another opportunity may not occur then 
 let me now conjure my kind, my condescending 
 angel, to fix the time when I may rescue her from 
 undeserving persecution, and with a licensed warmth 
 plead for my reward. 
 
 Lydia. Will you then, Beverley, consent to 
 forfeit that portion of my paltry wealth? that 
 burden on the wings of love ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, come to me rich only thus in 
 
 loveliness Bring no portion to me but thy love 
 
 'twill be generous in you, Lydia for well you 
 
 know, it is the only dower your poor Beverley can 
 
 repay. 
 
 Lydia. How persuasive are "his words ! how 
 charming will poverty be with him ! 
 
 Abs. Ah ! my soul, what a life will we then 
 live ! Love shall be our idol and support ! we 
 will worship him with a monastic strictness; ab- 
 juring all worldly toys, to centre every thought 
 and action there. Proud of calamity, we will 
 enjoy the wreck of wealth ; while the surround- 
 ing gloom of adversity shall make the flame of 
 our pure Jove show doubly bright By heavens ! 
 I would fling all goods of fortune from me with a 
 prodigal hand, to enjoy the scene where I might 
 clasp my Lydia to my bosom, and say, the world 
 affords no smile to me but here 
 
 \Embracing her. 
 If she holds out now, the devil is in it ! \Aside. 
 
 Lydia. Now could I fly with him to the an- 
 tipodes ! but my persecution is not yet come to a 
 crisis.
 
 282 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Enter Mrs. MALA PROP, listening 
 
 Mrs. Mai. I am impatient to know how the 
 little hussy deports herself. [Aside. 
 
 Abs. So pensive, Lydia ! is then your warmth 
 abated ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Warmth abated! so! she has 
 been in a passion, I suppose. 
 
 Lydia. No nor ever can while I have life. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. An ill-tempered little devil ! 
 She'll be in a passion all her life will she ? 
 
 Lydia. Think not the idle threats of my ridi- 
 culous aunt can ever have any weight with me. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Very dutiful, upon my word ! 
 
 Lydia. Let her choice be Captain Absolute, 
 but Beverley is mine. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. I am astonished at her assurance ! 
 to his face this is to his face ! 
 
 Abs. Thus then let me enforce my suit 
 
 [Kneeling. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Ay, poor young man ! down on 
 his knees entreating for pity ! I can contain no 
 longer. Why, thou vixen! I have overheard you. 
 
 Abs. Oh, confound her vigilance ! [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Captain Absolute, I know not how 
 to apologise for her shocking rudeness. 
 
 Abs. So all's safe, I find. [Aside. 
 
 I have hopes, madam, that time will bring the 
 young lady 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh, there's nothing to be hoped for 
 from her ! she's as headstrong as an allegory on 
 the banks of Nile.
 
 Mrs 
 
 . Mai. Jy, poor young man '.-dwn on hh knees tearing for pity !
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 285 
 
 Lydia. Nay, madam, what do you charge me 
 with now ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why, thou unblushing rebel 
 didn't you tell this gentleman to his face that 
 you loved another better ? didn't you say you 
 never would be his ? 
 
 Lydia. No, madam I did not. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Good heavens ! what assurance ! 
 Lydia, Lydia, you ought to know that lying don't 
 become a young woman ! Didn't you boast that 
 Beverley, that stroller Beverley, possessed your 
 heart ? Tell me that, I say. 
 
 Lydia. 'Tis true, ma'am, and none but Bev- 
 erley 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Hold! hold, Assurance! you 
 shall not be so rude. 
 
 Abs. Nay, pray, Mrs. Malaprop, don't stop the 
 young lady's speech : she's very welcome to talk 
 thus it does not hurt me in the least, I assure you. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. .You are too good, captain too 
 amiably patient but come with me, miss. 
 Let us see you again soon, captain remember 
 what we have fixed. 
 
 Abs. I shall, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Come, take a graceful leave of the 
 gentleman. 
 
 Lydia. May every blessing wait on my Bev- 
 erley, my loved Bev 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Hussy ! I'll choke the word in 
 your throat ! come along come along. 
 
 [Exeunt sever (illy. ABSOLUTE kissing his 
 hand to LYDIA Mrs. MALAPROP 
 stopping her from speaking.
 
 286 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 SCENE IV. ACRES'S Lodgings 
 ACRES and DAVID ACRES as just dressed 
 
 Acres. Indeed, David do you think I become 
 it so ? 
 
 David. You are quite another creature, believe 
 me, master, by the mass ! an' we've any luck we 
 shall see the Devon monkerony in all the print- 
 shops in Bath ! 
 
 Acres. Dress does make a difference, David. 
 
 David. 'Tis all in all, I think difference! 
 why, an' you were to go now to Clod Hall, I am 
 certain the old lady wouldn't know you : Master 
 Butler wouldn't believe his own eyes, and Mrs. 
 Pickle would cry, " Lard presarve me! " our dairy- 
 maid would come giggling to the door, and I 
 warrant Dolly Tester, your honour's favourite, 
 would blush like my waistcoat Oons! I'll hold 
 a gallon, there an't a dog in the house but would 
 bark, and I question whether Phillis would wag 
 a hair of her tail ! 
 
 Acres. Ay, David, there's nothing like polishing. 
 
 David. So I says of your honour's boots ; but 
 the boy never heeds me ! 
 
 Acres. But, David, has Mr. De-la-grace been 
 'here ? I must rub up my balancing, and chasing, 
 and boring. 
 
 David. I'll call again, sir. 
 
 Acres. Do and see if there are any letters for 
 me at the post-office.
 
 Acres. Dress <loes mate a difference, David,
 
 sc. iv THE RIVALS 289 
 
 David. I will. By the mass, I can't help 
 looking at your head ! if I hadn't been by at the 
 cooking, I wish I may die if I should have known 
 the dish again myself. [Exit. 
 
 [ACRES comes forward, practising a danc- 
 ing step. 
 
 Acres. Sink, slide coupee Confound the 
 first inventors of cotillion! say I they are as 
 bad as algebra to us country gentlemen I can 
 walk a minuet easy enough when I am forced ! 
 and I have been accounted a good stick in a 
 country-dance. Odds jigs and tabors! I never 
 valued your cross-over to couple figure in 
 right and left and I'd foot it with e'er a captain 
 in the county ! but these outlandish heathen 
 allemandes and cotillions are quite beyond me ! 
 I shall never prosper at 'em, that's sure mine 
 are true-born English legs they don't under- 
 stand their curst French lingo! their pas this, 
 and pas that, and pas t'other! damn me! my 
 feet don't like to be called paws ! no, 'tis certain 
 I have most Anti-Gallican toes ! 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Here is Sir Lucius O'Trigger to wait on 
 you, sir. 
 
 Acres. Show him in. 
 
 Enter Sir Lucius 
 
 Sir Luc. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace 
 you.
 
 2 9 o SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray, my friend, what has brought 
 you so suddenly to Bath ? 
 
 Acres. Faith ! I have followed Cupid's Jack-a- 
 lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last. 
 In short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. 
 I don't choose to mention names, but look on me 
 as on a very ill-used gentleman. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray, what is the case? I ask no 
 names. 
 
 Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius, I fall as deep as 
 need be in love with a young lady her friends 
 take my part I follow her to Bath send word 
 of my arrival ; and receive answer, that the lady is 
 to be otherwise disposed of This, Sir Lucius, I 
 call being ill-used. 
 
 Sir Luc. Very ill, upon my conscience Pray, 
 can you divine the cause of it ? 
 
 Acres. Why, there's the matter: she has an- 
 other lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now 
 in Bath. Odds slanders and lies ! he must be at 
 the bottom of it. 
 
 Sir Luc A rival in the case, is there ? and 
 you think he has supplanted you unfairly ? 
 
 Acres. Unfairly ! to be sure he has. He never 
 could have done it fairly. 
 
 Sir Luc. Then sure you know what is to be 
 done ! 
 
 Acres. Not I, upon my soul ! 
 
 Sir Luc. We wear no swords here, but you 
 understand me. 
 
 Acres. What ! fight him ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Ay, to be sure : what can I mean else ?
 
 sc. iv THE RIVALS 291 
 
 Acres. But he has given me no provocation. 
 
 Sir Luc. Now, I think he has given you the 
 greatest provocation in the world. Can a man 
 commit a more heinous offence against another 
 than to fall in love with the same woman ? Oh, 
 by my soul ! it is the most unpardonable breach 
 of friendship. 
 
 Acres. Breach of friendship ! Ay, ay ; but I 
 have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw 
 him in my life. 
 
 Sir Luc. That's no argument at all he has 
 the less right then to take such a liberty. 
 
 Acres. Gad, that's true I grow full of anger, 
 Sir Lucius ! I fire apace ! Odds hilts and blades ! 
 I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, 
 and not know it ! But couldn't I contrive to have 
 a little right of my side ? 
 
 Sir Luc. What the devil signifies right^ when 
 your honour is concerned ? Do you think Achilles, 
 or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired 
 where the right lay ? No, by my soul, they drew 
 their broad-swords, and left the lazy sons of peace 
 to settle the justice of it. 
 
 Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to 
 
 my heart ! I believe courage must be catching ! 
 
 I certainly do feel a kind of valour rising as it 
 
 were a kind of courage, as I may say 
 
 Odds flints, pans, and triggers ! I'll challenge him 
 directly. 
 
 Sir Luc. Ah, my little friend ! if I had Blun- 
 derbuss Hall here, I could show you a range of 
 ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would furnish 
 the new room : every one of whom had killed
 
 2 9 z SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 his man ! For though the mansion-house and 
 dirty acres have slipt through my fingers, I thank 
 heaven our honour and the family-pictures are as 
 fresh as ever. 
 
 Acres. Oh Sir Lucius ! I have had ancestors 
 too! every man of 'em colonel or captain in 
 the militia ! Odds balls and barrels ! say no 
 
 more I'm braced for it. The thunder of your 
 
 words has soured the milk of human kindness in 
 my breast ! Z ds ! as the man in the play 
 says, " I could do such deeds " 
 
 Sir Luc. Come, come, there must be no 
 passion at all in the case these things should 
 always be done civilly. 
 
 Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius 
 
 I must be in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be 
 
 in a rage, if you love me. Come, here's pen 
 
 and paper. (Sits down to write.} I would the 
 ink were red ! Indite, I say indite ! How shall 
 I begin ? Odds bullets and blades ! I'll write a 
 good bold hand, however. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray compose yourself. 
 
 Acres. Come- now, shall I begin with an 
 oath. Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a 
 damme. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! do the thing decently, 
 and like a Christian. Begin now " Sir" 
 
 Acres. That's too civil by half. 
 
 Sir Luc. " To prevent the confusion that might 
 
 Acres. Well 
 
 Sir Luc. " From our both addressing the same 
 lady "
 
 Acres. Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with a damme.
 
 sc. iv THE RIVALS 29S 
 
 Acres. Ay there's the reason same lady " 
 Well 
 
 Sir Luc. " / shall expect the honour of your 
 company " 
 
 Acres. Z ds ! I'm not asking him to dinner. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray be easy. 
 
 Acres. Well then, " honour of your company " 
 
 Sir Luc. "-To settle our pretensions " 
 
 Acres. Well. 
 
 Sir Luc. Let me see, ay, King's Mead-field 
 will do " in King's Mead-fields." 
 
 Acres. So that's done. Well, I'll fold it up 
 presently ; my own crest a hand and dagger shall 
 be the seal. 
 
 Sir Luc. You see now this little explanation 
 will put a stop at once to all confusion or mis- 
 understanding that might arise between you. 
 
 Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunder- 
 standing. 
 
 Sir Luc. Now, I'll leave you to fix your own 
 time. Take my advice, and you'll decide it this 
 evening if you can ; then let the worst come of it, 
 'twill be off your mind to-morrow. 
 
 Acres. Very true. 
 
 Sir Luc. So I shall see nothing more of you, 
 unless it be by letter, till the evening. I would 
 do myself the honour to carry your message ; but, 
 to tell you a secret, I believe I shall have just such 
 another affair on my own hands. There is a gay 
 captain here, who put a jest on me lately, at the 
 expense of my country, and I only want to fall in 
 with the gentleman, to call him out. 
 
 Acres. By my valour, I should like to see you
 
 296 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT in 
 
 fight first ! Odds life ! I should like to see you 
 kill him, if it was only to get a little lesson. 
 
 Sir Luc. I shall be very proud of instructing 
 
 you. Well, for the present but remember 
 
 now, when you meet your antagonist, do every- 
 thing in a mild and agreeable manner. Let 
 your courage be as keen, but at the same time as 
 polished as your sword. \Exeunt severally.
 
 ACT IV 
 
 SCENE I. ACRES'S Lodgings 
 ACRES and DAVID 
 
 David. Then, by the mass, sir ! I would do no 
 such thing ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the 
 kingdom should make me fight, when I wa'n't so 
 minded. Oons ! what will the old lady say, when 
 she hears o't P 
 
 Acres. Ah ! David, if you had heard Sir Lucius ! 
 Odds sparks and flames ! he would have roused 
 your valour. 
 
 David. Not he, indeed. I hates such blood- 
 thirsty cormorants. Look'ee, master, if you'd 
 wanted a bout at boxing, quarter-staff, or short- 
 staff, I should never be the man to bid you cry 
 off : but for your curst sharps and snaps, I never 
 knew any good come of 'em. 
 
 Acres. But my honour, David, my honour ! I 
 must be very careful of my honour. 
 
 David. Ay, by the mass ! and I would be very 
 careful of it ; and I think in return my honour 
 couldn't do less than to be very careful of me.
 
 298 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Acres. Odds blades ! David, no gentleman will 
 ever risk the loss of his honour ! 
 
 David. I say then, it would be but civil in 
 
 honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman. 
 
 Look'ee, master, this honour seems to me to be a 
 marvellous false friend : ay, truly, a very courtier- 
 like servant. Put the case, I was a gentleman 
 (which, thank God, no one can say of me) ; well 
 my honour makes me quarrel with another 
 gentleman of my acquaintance. So we fight. 
 (Pleasant enough that.) Boh! I kill him (the 
 more's my luck). Now, pray who gets the profit 
 of it ? Why, my honour. But put the case that 
 he kills me ! by the mass ! I go to the worms, 
 and my honour whips over to my enemy. 
 
 Acres. No, David in that case ! Odds 
 crowns and laurels ! your honour follows you to 
 the grave. 
 
 David. Now, that's just the place where I 
 could make a shift to do without it. 
 
 Acres. Z ds ! David, you are a coward ! It 
 doesn't become my valour to listen to you. 
 What, shall I disgrace my ancestors? Think of 
 that, David think what it would be to disgrace 
 my ancestors ! 
 
 David. Under favour, the surest way of not 
 disgracing them, is to keep as long as you can out 
 of their company. Look'ee now, master, to go to 
 them in such haste with an ounce of lead in your 
 brains I should think might as well be let alone. 
 Our ancestors are very good kind of folks ; but 
 they are the last people I should choose to have a 
 visiting acquaintance with.
 
 sc. I THE RIVALS 299 
 
 Acres. But, David, now, you don't think there 
 is such very, very, very great danger, hey ? Odds 
 life ! people often fight without any mischief 
 done! 
 
 David. By the mass, I think 'tis ten to one 
 against you ! Oons ! here to meet some lion- 
 headed fellow, I warrant, with his d n'd double- 
 barrelled swords, and cut - and - thrust pistols! 
 Lord bless us ! it makes me tremble to think o't ! 
 
 Those be such desperate bloody-minded 
 
 weapons ! Well, I never could abide 'em from 
 a child I never could fancy 'em ! I suppose there 
 an't been so merciless a beast in the world as your 
 loaded pistol ! 
 
 Acres. Z ds ! I wont be afraid Odds fire 
 
 and fury ! you shan't make me afraid. Here 
 
 is the challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend 
 Jack Absolute to carry it for me. 
 
 David. Ay, i' the name of mischief, let him be 
 the messenger. For my part, I wouldn't lend a 
 hand to it for the best horse in your stable. By 
 the mass ! it don't look like another letter ! It is, 
 as I may say, a designing and malicious-looking 
 letter ; and I warrant smells of gunpowder like 
 a soldier's pouch! Oons! I wouldn't swear it 
 mayn't go off ! 
 
 Acres. Out, you poltroon ! you han't the 
 valour of a grasshopper. 
 
 David. Well, I say no more 'twill be sad news, 
 to be sure, at Clod Hall ! but I ha' done. How 
 Phillis will howl when she hears about it ! Ay, 
 poor bitch, she little thinks what shooting her 
 master's going after ! And I warrant old Crop,
 
 300 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 who has carried your honour, field and road, these 
 ten years, will curse the hour he was born. 
 
 [Whimpering. 
 
 Acres. It won't do, David I am determined 
 to fight so get along, you coward, while I'm in 
 the mind. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Captain Absolute, sir. 
 
 Acres. Oh, show him up. [Exit SERVANT. 
 
 David. Well, heaven send we be all alive this 
 time to-morrow. 
 
 Acres. What's that! Don't provoke me, David! 
 
 David. Good-bye, master. [Whimpering. 
 
 Acres. Get along, you cowardly, dastardly, 
 croaking raven. [Exit DAVID. 
 
 Enter ABSOLUTE 
 
 Abs. What's the matter, Bob ? 
 
 Acres. A vile, sheep-hearted blockhead ! If I 
 hadn't the valour of St. George and the dragon to 
 boot 
 
 Abs. But what did you want with me, Bob ? 
 
 Acres. Oh ! There. [Gives him the challenge. 
 
 Abs. " To Ensign Beverley." So what's going 
 on now ! [Aside. 
 
 Well, what's this ? 
 
 Acres. A challenge ! 
 
 Abs. Indeed ! Why, you won't fight him, 
 will you, Bob? 
 
 Acres. Egad, but I will, Jack. Sir Lucius
 
 David. Good-bye, master. (Whimpering.
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 303 
 
 has wrought me to it. He has left me full of rage 
 and I'll fight this evening, that so much good 
 passion mayn't be wasted. 
 
 Abs. But what have I to do with this ? 
 
 Acres. Why, as I think you know something 
 of this fellow, I want you to find him out for me, 
 and give him this mortal defiance. 
 
 Abs. Well, give it to me, and trust me he gets it. 
 
 Acres. Thank you, my dear friend, my dear 
 Jack ; but it is giving you a great deal of trouble. 
 
 Abs. Not in the least I beg you won't men- 
 tion it. No trouble in the world, I assure you. 
 
 Acres. You are very kind. What it is to 
 
 have a friend ! You couldn't be my second- 
 could you, Jack ? 
 
 Abs. Why no, Bob not in this affair it would 
 not be quite so proper. 
 
 Acres. Well, then, I must get my friend Sir 
 Lucius. I shall have your good wishes, however, 
 Jack ? 
 
 Abs. Whenever he meets you, believe me. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Sir Anthony Absolute is below, inquiring 
 for the captain. 
 
 Abs. I'll come instantly. Well, my little 
 
 hero, success attend you. [Going. 
 
 Acres. Stay stay, Jack. If Beverley should 
 ask you what kind of a man your friend Acres is, 
 do tell him I am a devil of a fellow will you, Jack? 
 
 Abs. To be sure I shall. I'll say you are a 
 
 determined dog hey, Bob ?
 
 304 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Acres. Ay, do, do and if that frightens him, 
 egad, perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I 
 generally kill a man a- week ; will you, Jack ? 
 
 Abs. I will, I will ; I'll say you are called in 
 the country " Fighting Bob" 
 
 Acres. Right right 'tis all to prevent mis- 
 chief ; for I don't want to take his life if I clear 
 my honour. 
 
 Abs. No ! that's very kind of you. 
 
 Acres. Why, you don't wish me to kill him 
 do you, Jack ? 
 
 Abs. No, upon my soul, I do not. But a devil 
 of a fellow, hey ? [Going. 
 
 Acres. True, true but stay stay, Jack you 
 may add, that you never saw me in such a rage 
 before a most devouring rage ! 
 
 Abs. I will, I will. 
 
 Acres. Remember, Jack a determined dog ! 
 
 Abs. Ay, ay, " Fighting Bob ! " 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE II. Mrs. MALAPROP'S Lodgings 
 Mrs. MALAPROP and LYDIA 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why, thou perverse one ! tell me 
 what you can object to him ? Isn't he a hand- 
 some man? tell me that. A genteel man? a 
 pretty figure of a man ? 
 
 Lydia. She little thinks whom she is praising ! 
 (Aside.} So is Beverley, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. No caparisons, miss, if you please.
 
 Acres. Remember, Jack a determined dog ! 
 Capt. Absolute. Ay, ay, " Fighting Br-h '
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 307 
 
 Caparisons don't become a young woman. 
 No ! Captain Absolute is indeed a fine gentleman ! 
 
 Lydia. Ay, the Captain Absolute you have 
 seen. [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Then he's so well bred ; so full of 
 alacrity and adulation ! and has so much to say 
 for himself : in such good language too ! His 
 physiognomy so grammatical ! Then his presence 
 is so noble ! I protest when I saw him, I thought 
 of what Hamlet says in the play : " Hesperian 
 curls the front of Job himself! an eye, like 
 March, to threaten at command ! a station, like 
 Harry Mercury, new Something about 
 
 kissing on a hill however, the similitude struck 
 me directly. 
 
 Lydia. How enraged she'll be presently when 
 she discovers her mistake ! [Aside. 
 
 Enter SERVANT 
 
 Serv. Sir Anthony and Captain Absolute are 
 below, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Show them up here. 
 
 [Exit SERVANT. 
 
 Now, Lydia, I insist on your behaving as becomes 
 a young woman. Show your good breeding, at 
 least, though you have forgot your duty. 
 
 Lydia. Madam, I have told you my resolution ! 
 I shall not only give him no encouragement, but 
 I won't even speak to, or look at him. 
 
 [Fling's herself into a chair, with her face 
 from the door.
 
 308 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Enter Sir ANTHONY and ABSOLUTE 
 
 Sir Anth. Here we are, Mrs. Malaprop ; come 
 to mitigate the frowns of unrelenting beauty, 
 and difficulty enough I had to bring this fellow. 
 I don't know what's the matter; but if I had not 
 held him by force, he'd have given me the slip. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You have infinite trouble, Sir An- 
 thony, in the affair. I am ashamed for the cause ! 
 Lydia, Lydia, rise, I beseech you! pay your 
 respects ! [Aside to her. 
 
 Sir Anth. I hope, madam, that Miss Languish 
 has reflected on the worth of this gentleman, and 
 the regard due to her aunt's choice, and my alli- 
 ance. Now, Jack, speak to her. [Aside to him. 
 
 Abs. What the d 1 shall I do ! (Aside.} You 
 see, sir, she won't even look at me, whilst you are 
 here. I knew she wouldn't ! I told you so- Let 
 me entreat you, sir, to leave us together ! 
 
 [ABSOLUTE seems to expostulate with his father. 
 
 Lydia. (Aside.} I wonder I han't heard my 
 aunt exclaim yet ! sure she can't have looked at 
 
 him ! perhaps their regimentals are alike, and 
 
 she is something blind. 
 
 Sir Anth. I say, sir, I won't stir a foot yet. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. I am sorry to say, Sir Anthony, that 
 my affluence over my niece is very small. Turn 
 round, Lydia ; I blush for you ! \_Aside to her. 
 
 Sir Anth. May I not flatter myself, that Miss 
 Languish will assign what cause of dislike she can 
 have to my son ! Why don't you begin, Jack ? 
 Speak, you puppy speak ! [Aside to him.
 
 sc. II THE RIVALS 
 
 309 
 
 Mrs. Mai. It is impossible, Sir Anthony, she 
 
 can have any. She will not say she has. 
 
 Answer, hussy ! why don't you answer ? 
 
 [Aside to her. 
 
 Sir Anth. Then, madam, I trust that a childish 
 and hasty predilection will be no bar to Jack's 
 
 happiness. Z ds I sirrah! why don't you 
 
 speak ! \_Aside to him. 
 
 Lydia. (Aside.} I think my lover seems as 
 
 little inclined to conversation as myself. How 
 
 strangely blind my aunt must be ! 
 
 Abs. Hem ! hem ! madam hem ! (ABSOLUTE 
 attempts to speak, then returns to Sir ANTHONY) 
 Faith ! sir, I am so confounded ! and so so- 
 confused ! I told you I should be so, sir, I 
 knew it. The the tremor of my passion en- 
 tirely takes away my presence of mind. 
 
 Sir Anth. But it don't take away your voice, 
 fool, does it ? Go up, and speak to her directly ! 
 [ABSOLUTE makes signs to Mrs. MALA- 
 
 PROP to leave them together. 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir Anthony, shall we leave them 
 together ? Ah ! you stubborn little vixen ! 
 
 [Aside to her. 
 
 Sir Anth. Not yet, ma'am, not yet ! what the 
 d 1 are you at ? unlock your jaws, sirrah, or 
 
 [Aside to him. 
 
 [ABSOLUTE draws near LYDIA. 
 
 Abs. Now heaven send she may be too sullen to 
 
 look round ! I must disguise my voice. \_Aside. 
 
 [Speaks in a low hoarse tone. 
 
 Will not Miss Languish lend an ear to the mild 
 accents of true love ? Will not
 
 3 io SHERIDAN'SPLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Sir Anth. What the d 1 ails the fellow ? 
 Why don't you speak out ? -not stand croaking 
 like a frog in a quinsy ! 
 
 Abs. The the excess of my awe, and my 
 my my modesty, quite choke me ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Ah ! your modesty again ! I'll tell 
 you what, Jack ; if you don't speak out directly, 
 and glibly too, I shall be in such a rage ! Mrs. 
 Malaprop, I wish the lady would favour us with 
 something more than a side-front. 
 
 [Mrs. MALAPROP seems to chide LYDIA. 
 
 Abs. So all will out, I see ! 
 
 [Goes up to LYDIA, speaks softly. 
 Be not surprised, my Lydia, suppress all surprise 
 at present. 
 
 Lydia. (Aside.} Heavens! 'tis Beverley's voice ! 
 
 Sure he can't have imposed on Sir Anthony too ! 
 
 [Looks round by degrees, then starts up. 
 
 Is this possible ! my Beverley ! how can this be ? 
 
 my Beverley ? 
 
 Abs. Ah ! 'tis all over. [Aside. 
 
 Sir Anth. Beverley ! the devil Beverley ! 
 What can the girl mean ? 'This is my son Jack 
 Absolute. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. For shame, hussy ! for shame ! 
 your head runs so on that fellow, that you have 
 him always in your eyes ! beg Captain Absolute's 
 pardon directly. 
 
 Lydia. I see no Captain Absolute, but my 
 loved Beverley ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Z ds ! the girl's mad ! her brain's 
 turned by reading ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. O' my conscience, I believe so !
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 3 n 
 
 What do you mean by Beverley, hussy ? You saw 
 Captain Absolute before to-day ; there he is 
 your husband that shall be. 
 
 Lydia. With all my soul, ma'am when I re- 
 fuse my Beverley 
 
 Sir Anth. Oh ! she's as mad as Bedlam ! or has 
 this fellow been playing us a rogue's trick ? Come 
 here, sirrah, who the d 1 are you ? 
 
 Abs. Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself; 
 but I'll endeavour to recollect. 
 
 Sir Anth. Are you my son or not ? answer for 
 your mother, you dog, if you won't for me. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Ay, sir, who are you ? Oh mercy ! 
 I begin to suspect ! 
 
 Abs. Ye powers of Impudence, befriend me ! 
 (Aside.'} Sir Anthony, most assuredly I am your 
 wife's son ; and that I sincerely believe myself to 
 be yours also, I hope my duty has always shown. 
 Mrs. Malaprop, I am your most respectful ad- 
 mirer and shall be proud to add affectionate 
 nephew. I need not tell my Lydia, that she sees 
 her faithful Beverley, who, knowing the singular 
 generosity of her temper, assumed that name, and 
 a station, which has proved a test of the most dis- 
 interested love, which he now hopes to enjoy in a 
 more elevated character. 
 
 Lydia. So ! there will be no elopement after 
 all ! [Sullenly. 
 
 Sir Anth. Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very 
 impudent fellow ! to do you justice, I think I 
 never saw a piece of more consummate assur- 
 ance ! 
 
 Abs. Oh, you flatter me, sir, you compliment
 
 3 i2 SHERIDANTS PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 -'tis my modesty, you know, sir my modesty that 
 has stood in my way. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well, I am glad you are not the dull, 
 insensible varlet you pretended to be, however ! 
 I'm glad you have made a fool of your father, you 
 dog I am So this was your -penitence, your 
 duty, and obedience ! I thought it was d n'd 
 sudden ! You never heard their names before, not 
 you ! What, The LANGUISHES of Worcestershire, 
 hey ? if you could -please me in the affair, 'twas 
 all you desired I Ah ! you dissembling villain ! 
 What ! {-pointing to LYDIA) she squints, don't she ? 
 a little red-haired girl! hey? Why, you 
 hypocritical young rascal! I wonder you an't 
 ashamed to hold up your head ! 
 
 Abs. 'Tis with difficulty, sir I am confused 
 very much confused, as you must perceive. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh Lud ! Sir Anthony ! a new light 
 breaks in upon me ! hey ! how ! what ! captain, 
 did you write the letters then ? What am I to 
 thank you for the elegant compilation of " an old 
 weather-beaten she-dragon" hey ? Oh mercy ! 
 was it you that reflected on my parts of speech ? 
 
 Abs. Dear sir ! my modesty will be overpowered 
 at last, if you don't assist me. I shall certainly not 
 be able to stand it ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Come, come, Mrs. Malaprop, we 
 must forget and forgive ; odds life ! matters have 
 taken so clever a turn all of a sudden, that I could 
 find in my heart to be so good-humoured ! and so 
 gallant ! hey ! Mrs. Malaprop ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Well, Sir Anthony, since you desire 
 it, we will not anticipate the past ; so mind,
 
 Sir Anthony. " fcutA's the season made ftr joy.
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 315 
 
 young people our retrospection will be all to the 
 future. 
 
 Sir Anth. Come, we must leave them together ; 
 Mrs. Malaprop, they long to fly into each other's 
 arms, I warrant ! Jack isn't the cheek as I said, 
 hey? and the eye, you rogue! and the lip 
 hey? Come, Mrs. Malaprop, we'll not disturb 
 their tenderness theirs is the time of life for 
 happiness ! - " Youth's the season made for 
 joy" (sings} hey! Odds life! I'm in such 
 spirits, I don't know what I could not do! 
 Permit me, ma'am (gives his hand to Mrs. MAL- 
 APROP) (sings} Tol-de-rol 'gad, I should like to 
 have a little fooling myself Tol-de-rol ! de-rol ! 
 [Exit singing and handing Mrs. MALAPROP. 
 [LYDIA sits sullenly in her chair. 
 
 Abs. So much thought bodes me no good. 
 (Aside.} So grave, Lydia ! 
 
 Lydia. Sir ! 
 
 Abs. So! egad! I thought as much! that 
 d n'd monosyllable has froze me ! (Aside.} 
 What, Lydia, now that we are as happy in our 
 friends' consent, as in our mutual vows 
 
 Lydia. Friends' consent indeed ! [Peevishly. 
 
 Abs. Come, come, we must Jay aside some of 
 our romance a little wealth and comfort may 
 be endured after all. And for your fortune, the 
 lawyers shall make such settlements as 
 
 Lydia. Lawyers ! I hate lawyers ! 
 
 Abs. Nay, then, we will not wait for their 
 lingering forms, but instantly procure the licence, 
 and 
 
 Lydia. The licence ! I hate licence!
 
 316 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 Abs. Oh, my love ! be not so unkind ! thus 
 let me entreat [Kneeling. 
 
 Lydia. Pshaw ! what signifies kneeling when 
 you know I must have you? 
 
 Abs. (Rising.} Nay, madam, there shall be 
 no constraint upon your inclinations, I promise 
 you. If I have lost your heart I resign the rest. 
 Gad, I must try what a little spirit will do. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Lydia. (Rising.} Then, sir, let me tell you, 
 the interest you had there was acquired by a 
 mean, unmanly imposition, and deserves the pun- 
 ishment of fraud. What, you have been treating 
 me like a child! humouring my romance! and 
 laughing, I suppose, at your success ! 
 
 Abs. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me 
 only hear 
 
 Lydia. So, while / fondly imagined we were 
 deceiving my relations, and flattering myself that 
 I should outwit and incense them all behold 
 my hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt's 
 consent and approbation and / am myself the 
 only dupe at last ! (Walking about in a heat.} 
 But here, sir, here is the picture Beverley's 
 picture ! (taking a miniature from her bosom] 
 which I have worn, night and day, in spite of 
 threats and entreaties ! There, sir (flings it to 
 him} y and be assured I throw the original from my 
 heart as easily. 
 
 Abs. Nay, nay, ma'am, we will not differ as to 
 that Here (taking out a picture}, here is Miss 
 Lydia Languish. What a difference ! ay, there 
 is the heavenly assenting smile that first gave
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 317 
 
 soul and spirit to my hopes ! those are the lips 
 which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid's 
 calendar! and there the half- resentful blush, 
 that would have checked the ardour of my thanks 
 -Well, all that's past ! all over indeed ! There, 
 madam in beauty, that copy is not equal to you, 
 but in my mind its merit over the original, in 
 being still the same, is such that I cannot find 
 in my heart to part with it. [Puts it up again. 
 
 Lydia. (Softening.) 'Tis your own doing, sir 
 I, I, I suppose you are perfectly satisfied. 
 
 Abs. Oh, most certainly sure, now, this is 
 much better than being in love ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 there's some spirit in this ! What signifies 
 breaking some scores of solemn promises: all 
 that's of no consequence, you know. To be sure 
 people will say, that miss didn't know her own 
 mind but never mind that ! or, perhaps, they 
 may be ill-natured enough to hint, that the gentle- 
 man grew tired of the lady and forsook her but 
 don't let that fret you. 
 
 Lydia. There's no bearing his insolence. 
 
 [Bursts into tears. 
 
 Enter Mrs. MALAPROP ana 1 Sir ANTHONY 
 
 Mrs. Mai. (Entering.'] Come, we must inter- 
 rupt your billing and cooing awhile. 
 
 Lydia. This is worse than your treachery and 
 deceit, you base ingrate. [Sobbing. 
 
 Sir Anth. What the devil's the matter now !- 
 Z ds ! Mrs. Malaprop, this is the oddest billing
 
 3 i8 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 and cooing I ever heard ! but what the deuce is 
 the meaning of it ? I am quite astonished ! 
 
 Abs. Ask the lady, sir. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh mercy! I'm quite analysed, 
 for my part ! why, Lydia, what is the reason of 
 this ? 
 
 Lydia. Ask the gentleman, ma'am. 
 
 Sir Anth. Z ds ! I shall be in a frenzy ! 
 why, Jack, you are not come out to be any one 
 else, are you ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Ay, sir, there's no more trick, is 
 there? you are not like Cerberus, three gentle- 
 men at once, are you ? 
 
 Abs. You'll not let me speak I say the lady 
 can account for this much better than I can. 
 
 Lydia. Ma'am, you once commanded me never 
 to think of Beverley again there is the man I 
 now obey you: for, from this moment, I re- 
 nounce him for ever. [Exit LYDIA. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh mercy ! and miracles ! what a 
 turn here is why sure, captain, you haven't 
 behaved disrespectfully to my niece. 
 
 Sir Anth. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! now 
 I see it Ha ! ha ! ha ! now I see it you have 
 been too lively, Jack. 
 
 A bs. Nay, sir, upon my word 
 
 Sir Anth. Come, no lying, Jack I'm sure 
 'twas so. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh Lud ! Sir Anthony ! Oh fie, 
 captain ! 
 
 Abs. Upon my soul, ma'am 
 
 Sir Anth. Come, no excuses, Jack ; why, your 
 father, you rogue, was so before you : the blood
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh ! Sir Anthony ! Oh fie, captain !
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 
 
 321 
 
 of the Absolutes was always impatient.. Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! poor little Lydia ! why, you've fright- 
 ened her, you dog, you have. 
 
 Abs. By all that's good, sir 
 
 Sir Anth. Z ds ! say no more, I tell you 
 Mrs. Malaprop shall make your peace. You must 
 make his peace, Mrs. Malaprop : you must tell 
 her 'tis Jack's way tell her 'tis all our ways it 
 runs in the blood of our family ! Come away, 
 Jack Ha ! ha ! ha ! Mrs. Malaprop a young 
 villain ! {Pushes him out. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh! Sir Anthony! Oh fie, 
 captain ! \Exeunt severally. 
 
 SCENE III. The North Parade 
 Enter Sir Lucius O'TRIGGER 
 
 Sir Luc. I wonder where this Captain Absolute 
 hides himself. Upon my conscience ! these officers 
 are always in one's way in love affairs : I re- 
 member I might have married Lady Dorothy 
 Carmine, if it had not been for a little rogue of a 
 major, who ran away with her before she could get 
 a sight of me ! And I wonder too what it is the 
 ladies can see in them to be so fond of them 
 unless it be a touch of the old serpent in 'em, 
 that makes the little creatures be caught, like 
 vipers, with a bit of red cloth. Hah ! isn't this 
 the captain coming ? faith it is ! There is a 
 probability of succeeding about that fellow, that is
 
 322 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 mighty _ provoking ! Who the devil is he talking 
 to? [Steps aside. 
 
 Enter Captain ABSOLUTE 
 
 Abs. To what fine purpose I have been plot- 
 ting ! a noble reward for all my schemes, upon my 
 soul ! - a little gipsy ! I did not think her 
 romance could have made her so d n'd absurd 
 either. 'Sdeath, I never was in a worse humour 
 in my life ! I could cut my own throat, or any 
 other person's, with the greatest pleasure in the 
 world ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Oh, faith ! I'm in the luck of it. I 
 never could have found him in a sweeter temper 
 for my purpose to be sure I'm just come in the 
 nick ! Now to enter into conversation with him, 
 and so quarrel genteelly. 
 
 [Sir Lucius goes up to ABSOLUTE. 
 
 With regard to that matter, captain, I 
 must beg leave to differ in opinion with you. 
 
 Abs. Upon my word, then, you must be a very 
 subtle disputant : because, sir, I happened just 
 then to be giving no opinion at all. 
 
 Sir Luc. That's no reason For give me leave 
 to tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as 
 speak one. 
 
 Abs. Very true, sir ; but if a man never utters 
 his thoughts, I should think they might stand a 
 chance of escaping controversy. 
 
 Sir Luc. Then, sir, you differ in opinion with 
 me, which amounts to the same thing. 
 
 Abs. Hark'ee, Sir Lucius, if I had not before
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 3 2 3 
 
 known you to be a gentleman, upon my soul, I 
 should not have discovered it at this interview : 
 for what you can drive at, unless you mean to 
 quarrel with me, I cannot conceive ! 
 
 Sir Luc. I humbly thank you, sir, for the 
 quickness of your apprehension (Bowing} you 
 have named the very thing I would be at. 
 
 Abs. Very well, sir I shall certainly not balk 
 your inclinations : but I should be glad you 
 would please to explain your motives. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray, sir, be easy the quarrel is a 
 very pretty quarrel as it stands we should only 
 spoil it, by trying to explain it. However, your 
 memory is very short or you could not have 
 forgot an affront you passed on me within this 
 week. So, no more, but name your time and 
 place. 
 
 Abs. Well, sir, since you are so bent on it, the 
 sooner the better ; let it be this evening here 
 by the Spring. Gardens. We shall scarcely be 
 interrupted. 
 
 Sir Luc. Faith ! that same interruption in 
 affairs of this nature shows very great ill-breeding. 
 
 I don't know what's the reason, but in Eng- 
 land, if a thing of this kind gets wind, people 
 make such a pother, that a gentleman can never 
 fight in peace and quietness. However, if it's the 
 same to you, captain, I should take it as a particular 
 kindness, if you'd let us meet in King's Mead- 
 fields, as a little business will call me there about 
 six o'clock, and I may despatch both matters at 
 once. 
 
 Abs. 'Tis the same to me exactly. A little
 
 324 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 after six, then, we will discuss this matter more 
 seriously. 
 
 Sir Luc. If you please, sir ; there will be very 
 pretty small-sword light, though it won't do for 
 a long shot. So that matter's settled ! and my 
 mind's at ease. [Exit Sir Lucius. 
 
 Enter FAULKLAND, meeting ABSOLUTE 
 
 Abs. Well met. I was going to look for you. 
 Oh, Faulkland ! all the demons of spite and dis- 
 appointment have conspired against me ! I'm so 
 vexed, that if I had not the prospect of a resource 
 in being knocked o' the head by and by, I should 
 scarce have spirits to tell you the cause. 
 
 Faulk. What can you mean ? Has Lydia 
 changed her mind ? I should have thought her 
 duty and inclination would now have pointed to 
 the same object. 
 
 Abs. Ay, just as the eyes do of a person who 
 squints : when her love-eye was fixed on me 
 t'other her eye of duty, was finely obliqued : 
 but when duty bid her point that the same way 
 off t'other turned on a swivel and secured its 
 retreat with a frown ! 
 
 Faulk. But what's the resource you 
 
 Abs. Oh, to wind up the whole, a good-natured 
 Irishman here has {mimicking Sir Lucius) begged 
 leave to have the pleasure of cutting my throat 
 and I mean to indulge him that's all. 
 
 Faulk. Prithee, be serious. 
 
 Abs. 'Tis fact, upon my soul. Sir Lucius 
 O'Trigger you know him by sight for some
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 325 
 
 affront, which I am sure I never intended, has 
 obliged me to meet him this evening at six 
 o'clock : 'tis on that account I wished to see you 
 you must go with me. 
 
 Faulk. Nay, there must be some mistake, sure. 
 Sir Lucius shall explain himself and I daresay 
 matters may be accommodated : but this evening, 
 did you say ? I wish it had been any other time. 
 
 Abs. Why? there will be light enough: 
 there will (as Sir Lucius says) " be very pretty 
 small-sword light, though it will not do for a long 
 shot." Confound his long shots ! 
 
 Faulk. But I am myself a good deal ruffled, 
 by a difference I have had with Julia my vile 
 tormenting temper has made me treat .her so 
 cruelly, that I shall not be myself till we are 
 reconciled. 
 
 Abs. By heavens ! Faulkland, you don't deserve 
 her. 
 
 Enter SERVANT, gives FAULKLAND a letter 
 
 Faulk. Oh Jack! this is from Julia I dread 
 to open it I fear it may be to take a last leave- 
 perhaps to bid me return her letters and restore 
 Oh ! how I suffer for my folly ! 
 
 Abs. Here Jet me see. 
 
 flakes the letter and opens it. 
 
 Ay, a final sentence, indeed ! 'tis all over with 
 you, faith ! 
 
 Faulk. Nay, Jack don't keep me in suspense. 
 
 Abs. Hear then.- "As I am convinced that 
 my dear Faulkland 's own reflections have already
 
 326 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT iv 
 
 upbraided him for his last unkindness to me, I will 
 not add a word on the subject. / wish to speak 
 with you as soon as possible. Tours ever and 
 truly , JULIA." There's stubbornness and re- 
 sentment for you ! [Gives him the letter. 
 Why, man, you don't seem one whit the happier 
 at this. 
 
 Faulk. Oh, yes, I am but but 
 
 Abs. Confound your buts ! You never hear 
 anything that would make another man bless 
 himself, but you immediately d n it with a but. 
 
 Faulk. Now, Jack, as you are my friend, own 
 honestly don't you think there is something 
 'forward something indelicate in this haste to 
 forgive $ Women should never sue for recon- 
 ciliation:- that should always come from us. 
 They should retain their coldness till wood to 
 kindness and their pardon, like their love, should 
 " not unsought be won." 
 
 Abs. I have not patience to listen to you : 
 thou'rt incorrigible ! so say no more on the 
 subject. I must go to settle a few matters let 
 me see you before six remember at my 
 lodgings. A poor industrious devil like me, who 
 have toiled, and drudged, and plotted to gain my 
 ends, and am at last disappointed by other people's 
 folly may in pity be allowed to swear and 
 grumble a little ; but a captious sceptic in love, 
 a slave to fretfulness and whim who has no 
 difficulties but of his own creating is a subject 
 more fit for ridicule than compassion. 
 
 [Exit ABSOLUTE. 
 
 Faulk. I feel his reproaches : yet I would not
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 327 
 
 change this too exquisite nicety, for the gross 
 content with which he tramples on the thorns of 
 love. His engaging me in this duel has started 
 an idea in my head, which I will instantly pursue. 
 I'll use it as the touchstone of Julia's sincerity 
 and disinterestedness if her Jove prove pure and 
 sterling ore, my name will rest on it with honour ! 
 and once I've stamped it there, I lay aside my 
 doubts for ever: but if the dross of selfishness, 
 the allay of pride predominate 'twill be best to 
 leave her as a toy for some less cautious fool to 
 sigh for. \_Exit FAULKLAND.
 
 ACT V 
 
 SCENE I. JULIA'S Dressing-room 
 JULIA sola. 
 
 How this message has alarmed me ! what 
 
 dreadful accident can he mean ? why such charge 
 to be alone ? - - Oh Faulkland ! how many 
 unhappy moments how many tears have you 
 cost me ! 
 
 Enter FAULKLAND 
 
 Julia. What means this ? why this caution, 
 Faulkland ? 
 
 Faulk. Alas ! Julia, I am come to take a long 
 farewell. 
 
 Julia. Heavens ! what do you mean ? 
 
 Faulk. You see before you a wretch, whose life 
 is forfeited. Nay, start not ! the infirmity of my 
 temper has drawn all this misery on me. I left 
 you fretful and passionate an untoward accident 
 drew me into a quarrel the event is, that I must 
 fly this kingdom instantly. Oh Julia, had I been
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 329 
 
 so fortunate as to have called you mine entirely, 
 before this mischance had fallen on me, I should 
 not so deeply dread my banishment ! 
 
 Julia. My soul is oppressed with sorrow at the 
 nature of your misfortune : had these adverse 
 circumstances arisen from a less fatal cause, I 
 should have felt strong comfort in the thought 
 that I could now chase from your bosom every 
 doubt of the warm sincerity of my love. My 
 heart has long known no other guardian I now 
 intrust my person to your honour we will fly 
 together. When safe from pursuit, my father's 
 will may be fulfilled and I receive a legal claim 
 to be the partner of your sorrows, and tenderest 
 comforter. Then on the bosom of your wedded 
 Julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumber- 
 ing ? while virtuous love, with a cherub's hand, 
 shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and 
 pluck the thorn from compunction. 
 
 Faulk. Oh Julia ! I am bankrupt in gratitude ! 
 but the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so 
 hasty a resolution. Would you not wish some 
 hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and 
 what little compensation poor Faulkland can make 
 you beside his solitary love ? 
 
 Julia. I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I 
 have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more 
 than ever, prize the solemn engagement which 
 so long has pledged us to each other, it is because 
 it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, 
 and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But 
 let us not linger. Perhaps this delay 
 
 Faulk. 'Twill be better I should not venture
 
 330 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 out again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think 
 what numberless distresses will press heavy on 
 your gentle disposition ! 
 
 Julia. Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited 
 by this unhappy act. I know not whether 'tis 
 so but sure that alone can never make us un- 
 happy. The little I have will be sufficient to 
 support us ; and exile never should be splendid. 
 
 Faulk. Ay, but in such an abject state of life, 
 my wounded pride perhaps may increase the 
 natural fretful ness of my temper, till I become a 
 rude, morose companion, beyond your patience 
 to endure. Perhaps the recollection of a deed 
 my conscience cannot justify may haunt me in 
 such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I shall hate the 
 tenderness that would relieve me, break from your 
 arms, and quarrel with your fondness ! 
 
 Julia. If your thoughts should assume so un- 
 happy a bent, you will the more want some mild 
 and affectionate spirit to watch over and console 
 you : one who, by bearing your infirmities with 
 gentleness and resignation, may teach you so to 
 bear the evils of your fortune. 
 
 Faulk. Julia, I have proved you to the quick ! 
 and with this useless device I throw away all my 
 doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this 
 last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied 
 disposition ? 
 
 Julia. Has no such disaster happened as you 
 related ? 
 
 Faulk. I am ashamed to own that it was pre- 
 tended ; yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with 
 resenting a fault which never can be repeated:
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 33 i 
 
 but sealing, this once, my pardon, let me to- 
 morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive my future 
 guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly, by 
 years of tender adoration. 
 
 Julia. Hold, Faulkland ! that you are free 
 from a crime, which I before feared to name, 
 Heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice! These 
 are tears of thankfulness for that ! But that your 
 cruel doubts should have urged you to an imposi- 
 tion that has wrung my heart, gives me now a 
 pang, more keen than I can express ! 
 
 F.aulk. By heavens ! Julia 
 
 Julia. Yet hear me. My father loved 
 
 you, Faulkland ! and you preserved the life that 
 tender parent gave me ; in his presence I pledged 
 my hand joyfully pledged it where before I 
 had given my heart. When, soon after, I lost 
 that parent, it seemed to me that Providence 
 had, in Faulkland, shown me whither to transfer, 
 without a pause, my grateful duty, as well as 
 my affection : hence I have been content to bear 
 from you what pride and delicacy would have 
 forbid me from another. I will not upbraid you, 
 by repeating how you have trifled with my sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 Faulk. I confess it all ! yet hear 
 
 Julia. After such a year of trial, I might have 
 flattered myself that I should not have been insulted 
 with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel as 
 unnecessary ! I now see it is not in your nature 
 to be content, or confident in Jove. With this 
 conviction I never will be yours. While I 
 had hopes that my persevering attention, and
 
 332 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 unreproaching kindness, might in time reform your 
 temper, I should have been happy to have gained 
 a dearer influence over you ; but I will not furnish 
 you with a licensed power to keep alive an in- 
 corrigible fault, at the expense of one who never 
 would contend with you. 
 
 Faulk. Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and honour, 
 if after this 
 
 Julia. But one word more. As my faith has 
 once been given to you, I never will barter it with 
 another. I shall pray for your happiness with the 
 truest sincerity ; and the dearest blessing I can ask 
 of Heaven to send you will be to charm you from 
 that unhappy temper, which alone has prevented 
 the performance of our solemn engagement. All 
 I request of you is, that you will yoursejf reflect 
 upon this infirmity, and when you number up the 
 many true delights it has deprived you of let it 
 not be your least regret, that it lost you the love 
 of one who would have followed you in beggary 
 through the world ! [Exit. 
 
 Faulk. She's gone ! for ever ! There was an 
 awful resolution in her manner, that riveted me 
 
 to my place. O fool ! dolt ! barbarian ! 
 
 Curst as I am, with more imperfections than my 
 fellow-wretches, kind Fortune sent a heaven-gifted 
 cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven 
 her from my side ! I must now haste to my ap- 
 pointment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a 
 scene. I shall wish only to become a principal in 
 it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me 
 upon forging here. O Love ! tormentor ! 
 fiend ! whose influence, like the moon's, acting on
 
 - =4 - . 
 
 Faulk. Me's gone lJlr e-ver !
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 335 
 
 men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but meet- 
 ing subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges 
 sensibility to madness ! [#//. 
 
 Enter MAID and LYDIA 
 
 Maid. My mistress, ma'am, I know, was here 
 just now perhaps she is only in the next room. 
 
 \Exit MAID. 
 
 Lydia. Heigh ho ! Though he has used me 
 so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. I be- 
 lieve one lecture from my grave cousin will make 
 me recall him. 
 
 Enter JULIA 
 
 Lydia. Oh, Julia, I am come to you with such 
 an appetite for consolation. Lud ! child, what's 
 the matter with you ? You have been crying ! 
 I'll be hanged, if that Faulkland has not been tor- 
 menting you ! 
 
 Julia. You mistake the cause of my uneasiness ! 
 Something has flurried me a little. Nothing 
 that you can guess at. - 1 would not accuse 
 Faulkland to a sister ! \_Aside. 
 
 Lydia. Ah ! whatever vexations you may have, 
 I can assure you mine surpass them. -You know 
 who Beverley proves to be ? 
 
 Julia. I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. 
 Faulkland had before informed me of the whole 
 affair. Had young Absolute been the person you 
 took him for, I should not have accepted your con- 
 fidence on the subject, without a serious endeavour 
 to counteract your caprice.
 
 336 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Lydia. So, then, I see I have been deceived 
 by every one ! but I don't care I'll never have 
 him. 
 
 Julia. Nay, Lydia 
 
 Lydia. Why, is it not provoking ? when I 
 thought we were coming to the prettiest distress 
 imaginable, to find myself made a mere Smithfield 
 
 bargain of at last. There, had I projected one 
 
 of the most sentimental elopements ! so becoming 
 a disguise ! so amiable a ladder of ropes ! 
 Conscious moon four horses Scotch parson 
 with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop and such 
 
 paragraphs in the newspapers ! Oh, I shall die 
 
 with disappointment ! 
 
 Julia. I don't wonder at it ! 
 
 Lydia. Now sad reverse! what have I to 
 expect, but, after a deal of flimsy preparation with 
 a bishop's licence, and my aunt's blessing, to go 
 simpering up to the altar ; or perhaps be cried 
 three times in a country church, and have an un- 
 mannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher 
 in the parish to join John Absolute and Lydia 
 Languish, spinster ! Oh, that I should live to hear 
 myself called Spinster ! 
 
 Julia. Melancholy, indeed! 
 
 Lydia. How mortifying, to remember the dear 
 delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half 
 a minute's conversation with this fellow ! How 
 often have I stole forth, in the coldest night in 
 January, and found him in the garden, stuck like 
 a dripping statue ! There would he kneel to me 
 in the snow, and sneeze and cough so pathetically ! 
 he shivering with cold and I with apprehension !
 
 Mrs. Mai, So! so! here' 1 sjinc ivork ! her? s fine suicide, faracide, and simulation !
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 339 
 
 and while the freezing blast numbed our joints, 
 how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, 
 and glow with mutual ardour ! Ah, Julia, that 
 was something like being in love. 
 
 Julia. If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide 
 you only by laughing heartily at you ; but it suits 
 more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly 
 to entreat you not to Jet a man, who loves you 
 with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your 
 caprice, which I know too well caprice can inflict. 
 
 Lydia. Oh Lud ! what has brought my aunt 
 here ? 
 
 Enter Mrs. MALAPROP, FAG, and DAVID 
 
 Mrs. Mai. So ! so ! here's fine work ! here's 
 fine suicide, paracide, and simulation going on in 
 the fields ! and Sir Anthony not to be found to 
 prevent the antistrophe ! 
 
 Julia. For Heaven's sake, madam, what's the 
 meaning of this? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. That gentleman can tell you 'twas 
 he enveloped the affair to me. 
 
 Lydia. Do, sir, will you, inform us ? [To FAG. 
 
 Fag. Ma'am, I should hold myself very de- 
 ficient in every requisite that forms the man of 
 breeding, if I delayed a moment to give all the 
 information in my power to a lady so deeply 
 interested in the affair as you are. 
 
 Lydia. But quick ! quick, sir ! 
 
 Fag. True, ma'am, as you say, one should 
 be quick in divulging matters of this nature ; 
 for should we be tedious, perhaps while we are
 
 340 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 flourishing on the subject, two or three lives may 
 be lost ! 
 
 Lydia. Oh patience ! Do, ma'am, for Heaven's 
 sake ! tell us what is the matter ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why ! murder's the matter ! slaugh- 
 ter's the matter ! killing's the matter ! but he 
 can tell you the perpendiculars. 
 
 Lydia. Then, prithee, sir, be brief. 
 
 Fag. Why then, ma'am, as to murder I can- 
 not take upon me to say and as to slaughter, or 
 manslaughter, that will be as the jury finds it. 
 
 Lydia. But who, sir, who are engaged in this? 
 
 Fag. Faith, ma'am, one is a young gentleman 
 whom I should be very sorry anything was to 
 happen to a very pretty-behaved gentleman ! 
 We have lived much together, and always on 
 terms. 
 
 Lydia. But who is this ? who ! who ! who ! 
 
 Fag. My master, ma'am my master I speak 
 of my master. 
 
 Lydia. Heavens ! What, Captain Absolute ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh, to be sure, you are frightened 
 now ! 
 
 Julia. But who are with him, sir ? 
 
 Fag. As to the rest, ma'am, this gentleman can 
 inform you better than I. 
 
 Julia. Do speak, friend. [To DAVID. 
 
 David. Look'ee, my lady by the mass! 
 
 there's mischief going on. Folks don't use to 
 meet for amusement with fire-arms, firelocks, fire- 
 engines, fire-screens, fire-office, and the devil 
 
 knows what other crackers beside ! This, my 
 
 lady, I say, has an angry favour.
 
 sc. i THE RIVALS 341 
 
 Julia. But who is there beside Captain Abso- 
 lute, friend? 
 
 David. My poor master under favour for 
 mentioning him first. You know me, my lady 
 I am David and my master of course is, or wa j, 
 'Squire Acres. Then comes 'Squire Faulldand. 
 
 Julia. Do, ma'am, let us instantly endeavour 
 to prevent mischief. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh fie it would be very inelegant 
 in us : we should only participate things. 
 
 David. Ah ! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives 
 they are desperately given, believe me. Above 
 all, there is that blood-thirsty Philistine, Sir 
 Lucius O'Trigger. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir Lucius O'Trigger ! Oh mercy ! 
 have they drawn poor little dear Sir Lucius into 
 the scrape? Why, how you stand, girl! you 
 have no more feeling than one of the Derbyshire 
 petrefactions ! 
 
 Lydia. What are we to do, madam ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why, fly with the utmost felicity, 
 to be sure, to prevent mischief! here, fnend 
 you can show us the place ? 
 
 Fag. If you please, ma'am, I will conduct you 
 David, do you look for Sir Anthony. 
 
 [Exit DAVID. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Come, girls ! this gentleman will 
 exhort us. Come, sir, you're our envoy lead the 
 way, and we'll precede. 
 
 Fag. Not a step before the ladies for the world ! 
 
 Mrs. Mai. You're sure you know the spot. 
 
 Fag. I think I can find it, ma'am ; and one 
 good thing is, we shall hear the report of the
 
 342 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 pistols as we draw near, so we can't well miss 
 them ; never fear, ma'am, never fear. 
 
 [Exeunt, he talking. 
 
 SCENE II. South Parade 
 
 Enter ABSOLUTE, putting his sword under his 
 great-coat 
 
 Abs. A sword seen in the streets of Bath would 
 raise as great an alarm as a mad dog. How pro- 
 voking this is in Faulkland ! never punctual ! I 
 shall be obliged to go without him at last. Oh, 
 the devil ! here's Sir Anthony ! how shall I 
 escape him? 
 
 [Muffles up his face, and takes a circle to 
 
 go off- 
 Enter Sir ANTHONY 
 
 Sir Anth. How one may be deceived at a little 
 distance ! only that I see he don't know me, I 
 could have sworn that was Jack ! Hey ! Gad's 
 life ! it is. Why, Jack, what are you afraid of? 
 hey ! sure I'm right. Why, Jack Jack Abso- 
 lute ! [Goes up to him. 
 Abs. Really, sir, you have the advantage of me : 
 I don't remember ever to have had the honour 
 my name is Saunderson, at your service. 
 Sir Anth. Sir, I beg your pardon I took you 
 
 hey ? why, z ds ! it is Stay 
 
 [Looks up to his face. 
 
 So, so your humble servant, Mr. Saunderson ! 
 Why, you scoundrel, what tricks are you after now ?
 
 sc. ii THE RIVALS 
 
 34-3 
 
 Abs. Oh ! a joke, sir, a joke ! - 1 came here on 
 purpose to look for you, sir. 
 
 Sir Anth. You did ! well, I am glad you were 
 so lucky : but what are you muffled up so for ? 
 what's this for ? hey ? 
 
 Abs. 'Tis cool, sir; isn't it? rather chilly 
 somehow : but I shall be late I have a parti- 
 cular engagement. 
 
 Sir Anth. Stay. Why, I thought you were 
 
 looking for me ? Pray, Jack, where is't you are 
 going? 
 
 Abs. Going, sir ! 
 
 'Sir Anth. Ay where are you going ? 
 
 Abs. Where am I going ? 
 
 Sir Anth. You unmannerly puppy ! 
 
 Abs. I was going, sir, to to to to Lydia 
 sir, to Lydia to make matters up if I could ; 
 and I was looking for you, sir, to to 
 
 Sir Anth. To go with you, I suppose. Well, 
 come along. 
 
 Abs. Oh ! z ds ! no, sir, not for the world ! I 
 wished to meet with you, sir to -to to You 
 find it cool, I'm sure, sir you'd better not stay out. 
 
 Sir Anth. Cool ! not at all Well, Jack and 
 what will you say to Lydia ? 
 
 Abs. Oh, sir, beg her pardon, humour her 
 promise and vow : but I detain you, sir con- 
 sider the cold air on your gout. 
 
 Sir Anth. Oh, not at all ! not at all ! I'm in 
 no hurry. Ah ! Jack, you youngsters, when once 
 you are wounded here 
 
 \Putting his hand to ABSOLUTE'S breast. 
 Hey ! what the deuce have you got here ?
 
 344. SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Abs. Nothing, sir nothing. 
 
 Sir Anth. What's this ? here's something 
 d n'd hard. 
 
 Abs. Oh, trinkets, sir ! trinkets a bauble for 
 Lydia ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Nay, let me see your taste. 
 
 \Pulls his coat open, the sword falls. 
 Trinkets ! a bauble for Lydia ! Z ds ! sirrah, 
 you are not going to cut her throat, are you ? 
 
 Abs. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I thought it would divert 
 you, sir, though I didn't mean to tell you till 
 afterwards. 
 
 Sir Anth. You didn't ! Yes, this is a very 
 diverting trinket, truly. 
 
 Abs. Sir, I'll explain to you. You know, sir, 
 Lydia is romantic dev'lish romantic, and very 
 absurd, of course : now, sir, I intend, if she re- 
 fuses to forgive me to unsheath this sword 
 and swear I'll fall upon its point, and expire 
 at her feet ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Fall upon a fiddle -stick's end ! - 
 why, I suppose it is the very thing that would 
 please her Get along, you fool ! 
 
 Abs. Well, sir, you shall hear of my success 
 you shall hear. " Oh, Lydia ! forgive me, or this 
 pointed steel " says I. 
 
 Sir Anth. " Oh, booby ! stab away, and wel- 
 come " says she. Get along ! and d n your 
 trinkets ! [Exit ABSOLUTE. 
 
 Enter DAVID, running 
 David. Stop him ! stop him ! Murder ! Thief !
 
 sc. it THE RIVALS 345 
 
 Fire ! Stop fire ! Stop fire ! Oh ! Sir Anthony 
 call ! call ! bid 'm stop ! Murder ! Fire ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Fire ! Murder ! where ? 
 
 David. Oons ! he's out of sight ! and I'm out 
 of breath ! for my part ! Oh, Sir Anthony, why 
 didn't you stop him ? why didn't you stop him ? 
 
 Sir Anth. Z ds ! the fellow's mad! Stop 
 whom ? stop Jack ? 
 
 David. Ay, the captain, sir ! there's murder 
 and slaughter 
 
 Sir Anth. Murder ! 
 
 David. Ay, please you, Sir Anthony, there's all 
 kinds of murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen 
 in the fields : there's fighting going on, sir bloody 
 sword-and-gun fighting ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Who are going to fight, dunce ? 
 
 David. Everybody that I know of, Sir 
 Anthony : everybody is going to fight, my 
 poor master, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, your son, the 
 captain 
 
 Sir Anth. Oh, the dog ! I see his tricks ; do 
 you know the place ? 
 
 David. King's Mead-fields. 
 
 Sir Anth. You know the way ? 
 
 David. Not an inch ; but I'll call the mayor 
 aldermen constables churchwardens and 
 beadles we can't be too many to part them. 
 
 Sir Anth. Come along give me your shoulder ! 
 we'll get assistance as we go the lying villain ! 
 Well, I shall be in such a frenzy So this 
 was the history of his trinkets ! I'll bauble him ! 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 346 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 SCENE III. King's Mead-fields 
 Sir Lucius and ACRES, with pistols 
 
 Acres. By my valour ! then, Sir Lucius, forty 
 yards is a good distance Odds levels and aims ! 
 I say it is a good distance. 
 
 Sir Luc. Is it for muskets or small field-pieces ? 
 upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave 
 those things to me. Stay now I'll show you. 
 [Measures paces along the stage. 
 There now, that is a very pretty distance a pretty 
 gentleman's distance. 
 
 Acres. Z ds ! we might as well fight in a 
 sentry-box ! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he 
 is off, the cooler I shall take my aim. 
 
 Sir Luc. Faith ! then I suppose you would aim 
 at him best of all if he was out of sight ! 
 
 Acres. No, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty 
 or eight-and-thirty yards 
 
 Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! nonsense ! three or four 
 feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good 
 as a mile. 
 
 Acres. Odds bullets, no ! by my valour ! 
 there is no merit in killing him so near : do, my 
 dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long 
 shot : a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Well the gentleman's friend and I 
 must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, 
 in case of an accident, is there any little will or 
 commission I could execute for you ?
 
 Sc. in THE RIVALS 
 
 347 
 
 Acres. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius 
 but I don't understand 
 
 Sir Luc. Why, you may think there's no being 
 shot at without a little risk and if an unlucky 
 bullet should carry a quietus with it I say it will 
 be no time then to be bothering you about family 
 matters. 
 
 Acres. A quietus ! 
 
 Sir Luc. For instance, now if that should be 
 the case would you choose to be pickled and 
 sent home ? or would it be the same to you to lie 
 here in the Abbey ? I'm told there is very snug 
 lying in the Abbey. 
 
 Acres. Pickled ! Snug lying in the Abbey ! 
 Odds tremors ! Sir Lucius, don't talk so ! 
 
 Sir Luc. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were 
 engaged in an affair of this kind before? 
 
 Acres. No, Sir Lucius, never before. 
 
 Sir Luc. Ah ! that's a pity ! there's nothing 
 like being used- to a thing. Pray now, how would 
 you receive the gentleman's shot ? 
 
 Acres. Odds files ! I've practised that there, 
 Sir Lucius there {Puts himself in an attitude} 
 a side front, hey? Odd! I'll make myself 
 small enough : I'll stand edgeways. 
 
 Sir Luc. Now you're quite out for if you 
 stand so when I take my aim 
 
 [Levelling at him. 
 
 Acres. Z ds ! Sir Lucius are you sure it is 
 not cock'd ? 
 
 Sir Luc. Never fear. 
 
 Acres. But but you don't know it may go 
 off of its own head !
 
 348 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Sir Luc. Pho ! be easy Well, now if I hit you 
 in the body, my bullet has a double chance for if 
 it misses a vital part of your right side 'twill be 
 very hard if it don't succeed on the left ! 
 
 Acres. A vital part ! 
 
 Sir Luc. But, there fix yourself so (Placing 
 him] let him see the broad -side of your full 
 front there now a ball or two may pass clean 
 through your body, and never do any harm at all. 
 
 Acres. Clean through me ! a ball or two clean 
 through me ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Ay may they and it is much the 
 genteelest attitude into the bargain. 
 
 Acres. Look'ee ! Sir Lucius I'd just as lief 
 be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one 
 so, by my valour ! I will stand edgeways. 
 
 Sir Luc. (Looking at his watch."} Sure they 
 don't mean to disappoint us Hah ! no faith 
 I think I see them coming. 
 
 Acres. Hey ! what ! coming ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Ay Who are those yonder getting 
 over the stile ? 
 
 Acres. There are two of them indeed ! well- 
 let them come hey, Sir Lucius ! we we we 
 we won't run. 
 
 Sir Luc. Run ! 
 
 Acres. No I say we won't run, by my 
 valour ! 
 
 Sir Luc. What the devil's the matter with you? 
 
 Acres. Nothing nothing my dear friend 
 my dear Sir Lucius but I I I don't feel quite 
 so bold, somehow, as I did. 
 
 Sir Luc. Oh fie ! consider your honour.
 
 Acres. Hy, Sir Lucius /- 
 
 bti't run.
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 35I 
 
 Acres. Ay true my honour Do, Sir Lucius, 
 edge in a word or two every now and then about 
 my honour. 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, here they're coming. [Looking. 
 
 Acres. Sir Lucius if I wa'n't with you, I should 
 almost think I was afraid if my valour should 
 leave me ! Valour will come and go. 
 
 Sir Luc. Then pray keep it fast, while you 
 have it. 
 
 Acres. Sir Lucius I doubt it is going yes 
 my valour is certainly going ! it is sneaking off ! 
 I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of 
 my hands ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Your honour your honour. Here 
 they are. 
 
 Acres. Oh mercy ! now that I was safe at 
 Clod Hall ! or could be shot before I was aware ! 
 
 Enter FAULKLAND and ABSOLUTE 
 
 Sir Luc. Gentlemen, your most obedient. 
 Hah ! what, Captain Absolute ! So, I suppose, 
 sir, you are come here, just like myself to do a 
 kind office, first for your friend then to proceed 
 to business on your own account. 
 
 Acres. What, Jack ! my dear Jack ! my dear 
 friend ! 
 
 Abs. Hark'ee, Bob, Beverley's at hand. 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, Mr. Acres I don't blame your 
 saluting the gentleman civilly. So, Mr. Beverley 
 (to F^AULKLAND), if you'll choose your weapons, 
 the captain and I will measure the ground. 
 
 Faulk. My weapons sir !
 
 352 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Acres. Odds life ! Sir Lucius, I'm not going 
 to fight Mr. Faulkland ; these are my particular 
 friends. 
 
 Sir Luc. What, sir, did not you come here to 
 fight Mr. Acres ? 
 
 Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir. 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, now, that's mighty provoking ! 
 But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of 
 us come on purpose for the game you won't be 
 so cantankerous as to spoil the party by sitting 
 out. 
 
 Abs. Oh, pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir 
 Lucius. 
 
 Faulk. Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the 
 matter 
 
 Acres. No, no, Mr. Faulkland I'll bear my 
 disappointment like a Christian Look'ee, Sir 
 Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to fight ; 
 and if it is the same to you, I'd as lief Jet it 
 alone. 
 
 Sir Luc. Observe me, Mr. Acres I must not 
 be trifled with. You have certainly challenged 
 somebody and you came here to fight him 
 Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent 
 him I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just 
 the same thing. 
 
 Acres. Why no Sir Lucius I tell you, 'tis 
 one Beverley I've challenged a fellow, you see, 
 that dare not show his face ! If he were here, I'd 
 make him give up his pretensions directly ! - 
 
 Abs. Hold, Bob let me set you right there 
 is no such man as Beverley in the case. The 
 person who assumed that name is before you ;
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 353 
 
 and as his pretensions are the same in both 
 characters, he is ready to support them in what- 
 ever way you please. 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, this is lucky Now you have an 
 opportunity 
 
 Acres. What, quarrel with my dear friend Jack 
 Absolute not if he were fifty Beverleys ! Z ds ! 
 Sir Lucius, you would not have me so unnatural. 
 
 Sir Luc. Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, your 
 valour has oozed away with a vengeance ! 
 
 Acres. Not in the least ! Odds backs and 
 abettors ! I'll be your second with all my heart 
 and if you should get a quietus, you may com- 
 mand me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the 
 Abbey here ; or pickle you, and send you over to 
 Blunderbuss Hall, or anything of the kind, with the 
 greatest pleasure. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pho ! pho ! you are little better than 
 a coward. 
 
 Acres. Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward ; 
 coward was the word, by my valour ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, sir ? 
 
 Acres. Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind 
 the word coward coward may be said in joke- 
 But if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers 
 and balls 
 
 Sir Luc. Well, sir? 
 
 Acres. 1 should have thought you a very 
 
 ill-bred man. 
 
 Sir Luc. Pho ! you are beneath my notice. 
 
 Abs. Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better 
 second than my friend Acres He is a most deter- 
 mined dog called in the country, Fighting Bob. 
 
 2 A
 
 354 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 He generally kills a man a week don't you, 
 Bob? 
 
 Acres. Ay at home ! 
 
 Sir Luc. Well then, captain, 'tis we must begin 
 
 so come out, my little counsellor (draws his 
 
 sword} and ask the gentleman, whether he will 
 
 resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed 
 
 against him ? 
 
 Abs. Come on then, sir (draws'] ; since you 
 won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my 
 reply. 
 
 Enter Sir ANTHONY, DAVID, and the WOMEN 
 
 David. Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir Anthony ; 
 knock down my master in particular and bind his 
 hands over to their good behaviour ! 
 
 Sir Anth. Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in 
 a frenzy how came you in a duel, sir ? 
 
 Abs. Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you 
 better than I ; 'twas he called on me, and you 
 know, sir, I serve his majesty. 
 
 Sir Anth. Here's a pretty fellow ! I catch him 
 going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he 
 serves his majesty! Zounds! sirrah, then how 
 durst you draw the king's sword against one of 
 his subjects ? 
 
 Abs. Sir, I tell you ! that gentleman called me 
 out, without explaining his reasons. 
 
 Sir Anth. Gad ! sir, how came you to call my 
 son out, without explaining your reasons? 
 
 Sir Luc. Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner 
 which my honour could not brook.
 
 Capt. Absolute. C-me on then, sir (draws) ; . . herft my reply.
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 357 
 
 Sir Anth. Zounds ! Jack, how durst you insult 
 the gentleman in a manner which his honour could 
 not brook? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Come, come, let's have no honour 
 before ladies Captain Absolute, come here How 
 could you intimidate us so ? Here's Lydia has 
 been terrified to death for you. 
 
 Abs. For fear I should be killed, or escape, 
 ma'am ? 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Nay, no delusions to the past 
 Lydia is convinced ; speak, child. 
 
 Sir Luc. With your leave, ma'am, I must put 
 in a word here I believe I could interpret the 
 young lady's silence Now mark 
 
 Lydia. What is it you mean, sir ? 
 
 Sir Luc. Come, come, Delia, we must be serious 
 now this is no time for trifling. 
 
 Lydia. 'Tis true, sir ; and your reproof bids me 
 offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return 
 of his affections. 
 
 Abs. Oh ! my little angel, say you so ? Sir 
 Lucius I perceive there must be some mistake 
 here, with regard to the affront which you affirm 
 I have given you. I can only say, that it could 
 not have been intentional. And as you must be 
 convinced, that I should not fear to support a real 
 injury you shall now see that I am not ashamed 
 to atone for an inadvertency I ask your pardon. 
 But for this lady, while honoured with her 
 approbation, I will support my claim against any 
 man whatever. 
 
 Sir Anth. Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by 
 you, my boy.
 
 358 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 Acres. Mind, I give up all my claim I make 
 no pretensions to anything in the world and if I 
 can't get a wife, without righting for her, by my 
 valour ! I'll live a bachelor. 
 
 Sir Luc. Captain, give me your hand an 
 affront handsomely acknowledged becomes an 
 obligation and as for the lady if she chooses 
 to deny her own handwriting, here 
 
 [Takes out letters. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh, he will dissolve my mystery ! 
 Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake perhaps 
 I can illuminate 
 
 Sir Luc. Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere 
 where you have no business. Miss Languish, are 
 you my Delia, or not ? 
 
 Lydia. Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not. 
 
 [LYDIA and ABSOLUTE walk aside. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Sir Lucius O'Trigger ungrateful 
 as you are I own the soft impeachment pardon 
 my blushes, I am Delia. 
 
 Sir Luc. You Delia pho ! pho ! be easy. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Why, thou barbarous Vandyke 
 those letters are mine When you are more 
 sensible of my benignity perhaps I may be 
 brought to encourage your addresses. 
 
 Sir Luc. Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely 
 sensible of your condescension ; and whether you 
 or Lucy have put this trick upon me, I am equally 
 beholden to you. And, to show you I am not 
 ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have taken 
 that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the 
 bargain. 
 
 Abs. I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius ;
 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Pardcn my */*, / & lia -
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 361 
 
 but here's my friend, Fighting Bob, unprovided 
 for. 
 
 Sir Luc. Hah ! little Valour here, will you 
 make your fortune ? 
 
 Acres. Odds wrinkles! No. But give me 
 your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and forgive ; but 
 if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, 
 say Bob Acres is a dunce, that's all. 
 
 Sir Anth. Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast 
 down you are in your bloom yet. 
 
 Mrs. Mai. Oh, Sir Anthony ! men are all bar- 
 barians. \_All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND. 
 
 Julia. He seems dejected and unhappy not 
 sullen there was some foundation, however, for 
 the tale he told me O woman ! how true should 
 be your judgment, when your resolution is so 
 weak ! 
 
 Faulk. Julia ! how can I sue for what I so 
 little deserve ? I dare not presume yet Hope is 
 the child of Penitence. 
 
 Julia. Oh ! Faulkland, you have not been more 
 faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am 
 now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my 
 heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the 
 account of love, I should be ungenerous not to 
 admit the same plea for yours. 
 
 Faulk. Now I shall be blest indeed ! 
 
 [Sir ANTHONY comes forward. 
 
 Sir Anth. What's going on here ? So you have 
 been quarrelling too, I warrant. Come, Julia, I 
 never interfered before ; but let me have a hand 
 in the matter at last. All the faults I have ever 
 seen in my friend Faulkland seemed to proceed
 
 362 SHERIDAN'S PLAYS ACT v 
 
 from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his 
 
 affection for you There, marry him directly, 
 
 Julia ; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly ! 
 
 [77;<? rest come forward. 
 
 Sir Luc. Come now, I hope there is no dis- 
 satisfied person, but what is content ; for as I 
 have been disappointed myself, it will be very 
 hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other 
 people succeed better 
 
 Acres. You are right, Sir Lucius. So, Jack, I 
 wish you joy Mr. Faulkland the same. Ladies, 
 come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor 
 angry, odds tabors and pipes ! I'll order the fiddles 
 in half an hour to the New Rooms and I insist 
 on your all meeting me there. 
 
 Sir Anth. Gad ! sir, I like your spirit ; and at 
 night we single lads will drink a health to the 
 young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop. 
 
 Faulk. Our partners are stolen from us, Jack 
 I hope to be congratulated by each other yours 
 for having checked in time the errors of an ill- 
 directed imagination, which might have betrayed an 
 innocent heart ; and mine, for having, by her gentle- 
 ness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of 
 one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, 
 and tortured the heart he ought to have adored. 
 
 Abs. Well, Jack, we have both tasted the 
 bitters, as well as the sweets, of love with this 
 difference only, that you always prepared the bitter 
 cup for yourself, while / 
 
 Lydia. Was always obliged to me for it, hey-! 
 
 Mr. Modesty ? But come, no more of that- 
 
 our happiness is now as unallayed as general.
 
 Sir Anth. 
 
 we V /a ' /J w;7/ ^'"^ " /5 ^ / ' // 
 husband to Mrs. Ma/afrof.
 
 sc. in THE RIVALS 365 
 
 Julia. Then let us study to preserve it so : and 
 while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of 
 future bliss, Jet us deny its pencil those colours 
 which are too bright to be lasting. When hearts 
 deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, 
 Virtue would crown them with an unfading gar- 
 land of modest hurtless flowers ; but ill-judging 
 Passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, 
 whose thorn offends them, when its leaves are 
 dropt ! 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh.

 
 -:='. =Ei MM .=='= MC 
 
 A 000 161 233 2