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 THE 
 
 MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 A COMEDY 
 
 IN 
 
 FIVE ACTS. 
 
 /S PERFORMED 
 AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, DRURY LANE 
 
 THE FOURTH EDITION 
 
 BY 
 
 Y 
 
 JOHN TILLlALLINGHAM. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JAMES RIDGWAY, YORK-STREET,, ST, JAMES'S 
 
 SQUARE. 
 
 1803. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 ***8fcRR^* 
 
 TO 
 
 A 437 
 1203 
 
 JOHN BANNISTER, ESQ. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, 
 
 JT OR your attention and 
 assiduity, accept my thanks ; for your skill 
 and ability, as Manager, my applause ; — 
 and for your friendly exertions, honour me. 
 by accepting the "Marriage Promise/' 
 
 dP 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 Yours, most sincerely. 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 5vj 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 To the Ladies and Gentlemen, whose 
 exertions have contributed so much to the 
 success of this Comedy, the Author begs 
 to return his most sincere acknowledg- 
 ments. He has not only to thank them 
 for the display of those talents which have 
 so often delighted the Public, but feels 
 particular pleasure in saying, they have 
 conferred a greater obligation, by the 
 friendly anxiety which they have all 
 evinced for him, not only on the first 
 night of representation, but during the 
 many rehearsals, which they have so punc- 
 tually attended. It would be an invidious 
 task to particularize any individual, when 
 the Author is so truly obliged to all ; — but 
 he bees to observe, that he owes much 
 to the kindness of those who have given 
 an importance to his Comedy, by per- 
 forming parts far beneath what their 
 talents have a right to command. 
 
 a 2 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 •►•v^— <; 
 
 ».-vj><- 
 
 Charles Merton, 
 Sidney, - 
 Consols, - 
 Policy, 
 Tandem, - 
 Woodland, 
 George Howard, 
 Jefferies, - 
 Thomas, - 
 Bailiff, - 
 
 Constahles, 
 
 Servant, - 
 
 Mrs. Howard - 
 Mary Woodland, 
 Mrs. Ilarvev. - 
 Emma, 
 Margery, 
 
 - { 
 
 Mr. C. Kemble. 
 Mr. Dwyee. 
 Mr. Dow ton. 
 
 Mr. HoLLINGSWORTH, 
 
 Mr. Bannister, Jun. 
 
 Mr. Palmer. 
 
 Mr. Pope. 
 
 Mr. Powell. 
 
 Mr. Fisher, 
 
 Mr. Maddoces. 
 
 Mr. Purser. 
 Mr. Sparks. 
 
 Mr. Evans. 
 
 Mrs. Powell. 
 Miss Mellon. 
 Mrs. Sparks. 
 Mrs. Jordan. 
 Mrs. Maddock^. 
 
THE 
 
 MARRIAGE PROMISE 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Drawing Room, 
 
 Enter Jefferies and Thomas. 
 
 Jeff. A. tele you he is expected every moment, 
 and when you see him you will be able to judge 
 for yourself — you are very inquisitive, Thomas. 
 
 Taos. I think it's natural for us servants to 
 wish to know what sort of a master we are 
 going to have — I hope there's no offence, Mr. 
 Jefferies. 
 
 Jeff. Five years have passed since I saw him, 
 Thomas — he was then just sixteen — a nobler 
 lad the sun never shone on — I loved him from 
 
 his 
 
t> THE MARRIAGE PROMISE ! 
 
 his cradle, Thomas ; and old Jeff was the first 
 name he ever learn'd to lisp — I have carried him 
 on my back till I grew double under him. 
 
 Thos. Then you think he'll make a kind 
 master ? 
 
 Jeff. A kind master! — he'll spoil ye all — I 
 tell vou he's too good. 
 
 Thos. You don't know how his long stay 
 abroad may have altered him. 
 
 Jeff. I should judge by his letters that he is 
 much the same in disposition as he was. 
 
 Thos. By his letters ! Is he then so fami- 
 liar as to write to you ? 
 
 Jeff. Why, Thomas, though he has ten thou- 
 sand a year, and I am onlv his servant and a 
 poor man, yet you shall see him lend me his 
 arm, and help me about as if I were his father — 
 for he looks at a man's heart, Thomas, not at 
 his purse — -I am the steward of his charities ; 
 and these letters of his which I speak of, pro- 
 vide me with the means of relieving many an 
 aching heart. (Shouts without.) But hark! 
 Thomas, what sounds were those? As I live, 
 
 the villagers welcoming him on his arrival 
 
 look out. good Thomas, look out. \Exit Thos, 
 
 Jeff. Ah 1 this is a happy moment ; the 
 warmth of my heart lends a neu r vigour to my 
 old frame, and makes me young again. 
 
 f Retires up the Stage.) 
 
 E titer 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 Enter Mertox and Sidney, amidst the Shouts 
 and Acclamations of the Villagers. 
 
 Sid. Well ! here we are at last — the good 
 people seem overjoy'd to see you, Charles. 
 
 Mer. They have, indeed, given me a kind 
 reception (sees Jeff.) Ah ! what my old friend, 
 my companion, my second father {they embrace.) 
 
 Jeff. My dear, dear boy. 
 
 Mer. How fares it, Jeff? 
 
 Jeff. Why I thought I was a hale, strong old 
 man, but I find I am as weak as a child ; for 
 childish tears and sobs prevent my speech, or I 
 would tell vou how overjov'd I am to see vou — 
 I shall recover myself presently, and then I 
 have a thousand things to say you {embraces 
 him). The blessings of an old man, and all 
 Heav'ns comforts, light upon you. [Exit. 
 
 Sid. An old relation, Charles, I suppose ? 
 
 Mer. An old servant, Sidney. 
 
 Sid A servant ! you shou'd keep up your 
 dignity, Merton. 
 
 Mer. I know no dignity but what must yield 
 to the dignity of virtue — I esteem and venerate 
 that old man ; and for my whole estate I wou'd 
 not insult his honest heart with the freezing 
 hauteur which your dignity requires. 
 
 Sid. You have some strange notions ; but a 
 little knowledge of the world will soon dissipate 
 
 them 
 
S THE MARRIAGE PROM! 
 
 them — you have yet to learn what it is to live 
 in style — you must get rid of these rigid ideas 
 of honour and equity, and strict justice — thev 
 are quite incompatible with the character of a 
 man of the world — you don't know the value of 
 ten thousand a year. 
 
 Mer. I value it as it will give me ten thou- 
 sand opportunities of rendering happiness to my 
 fellow- creatures. 
 
 Sid. Ay, that is all very well to be sure — I 
 like to be charitable myself sometimes — but I 
 seldom have it in my power. 
 
 Mer. How so ? 
 
 Sid. Mv creditors are such uncharitable 
 roimes. 
 
 Mer. Your estate is considerable too. 
 
 Sid. Yes, Charles, pretty well ; and by means 
 of hazard and crim. con. — settlements and 
 ruiiTd spinsters, and dashing curricles, race 
 horses and opera girls, punting and pick-nickery, 
 I have been enabled to improve it wonderfully. 
 
 Mer. Indeed ! 
 
 Sid. Yes, I have clipp'd off all the straggling 
 meadows, the ins and outs, and raised ends, 
 and it is now all within a rino'-fence, my bov. 
 
 Tand. {without) John ! llobert ! Thomas ! 
 I hope every thing is properly prepared. 
 
 Sid. Ha ! what strange animal have we here. 
 ( arlesr (looking out.) 
 
 Mtr. 
 
 
 
A COMEDY. 9 
 
 Mer. You know, Sidney, my long residence 
 on the Continent has made me as much a 
 stranger here as yourself. 
 
 Enter Tandem. 
 Tand. (addressing himself to Sidney) Sir, 
 your most obedient and very humble servant— 
 I have, Sir, the honour to be intrusted with 
 the management of your affairs— I am steward 
 —my name is Timotheus Tandem— I am a man 
 of business— 1 was for a short time steward to 
 your late father— a man of honour- was conti- 
 nued in that office by Mr. Mindful, your guar- 
 dian— a man of probity and wisdom— hope stdl 
 to remain so by your own appointment— I see 
 he is a man of fashion-permit me to tell you 
 that you are the very image of your late much 
 lamented father-vou are, as I may say, his 
 couterpart-whilst I look at you, I almost think 
 I have him before my eyes— look a little this 
 way, if you please, Sir-Oh, the very turn of 
 his eye, and his walk too, exactly. 
 
 Mer. (advancing.) You address yourself to 
 me, 1 presume, Sir— my name is Merton. 
 
 Sid. Ha ! ha ! ha !— pray, Charles, was my 
 father acquainted with your mother? 
 
 Tand. Bless my soul what an unlucky mis- 
 take. (Aside.) Exactly so, Sir— exactly— 
 -lis as you say-Sir, I have the extreme plea- 
 
 B sure 
 
10 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 sure to wish you joy on your coming to the 
 possession of your estate, which consists of 
 fifteen hundred acres of arable land, four hun- 
 dred ditto of meadow ditto, one hundred and 
 sixty ditto of ditto covered with water, two 
 hundred ditto of wood ditto, besides various 
 farm houses and other dwelling houses, barns, 
 stables, cow houses, and various other tene- 
 ments, water-streams, water-mills, and wind- 
 mills, rights of commons, et cetera, et cetera, 
 et cetera — all this estate being freehold except 
 about 
 
 Mer. We'll talk of "this some other time if 
 you please. 
 
 Tand. Certainly, Sir — certainly — hates bu- 
 siness I see — a man of pleasure — so much the 
 better. 
 
 Sid. I hope to gain information from you on 
 more interesting topics — and first, I'll ask 
 vou concerning the females — how are they 
 here ? — 
 
 Tand. lie's a man of inquiry. — They are all 
 pretty well, I thank you. 
 
 Sid. I mean as to their persons. 
 
 Tand. Short and fat — what we call a little 
 chubby or so — snub noses — red cheeks — thick 
 lips — sun-burnt complexions — and gummy about 
 the ankles. 
 
 Sid. Not very tempting. 
 
 Tand. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 11 
 
 
 TancL We have two or three of a finer sort — 
 hair, jet — skin, ivory — lips, red and pouting — 
 
 eyes, blue or black — teeth, pearl — bosoms 
 
 Oh, but if you'll condescend I'll introduce 
 you, and you shall judge for yourself. — Girls 
 of o-io* — fond of romping — tea and coffee — talk 
 scandal and make love — a glass of wine — a 
 rubber at whist, or a pool at pope joan or 
 commerce — cross questions and answers — cry 
 the forfeits — buz and black faces — a game at 
 blindman's buff, and go home — 
 
 Sid. Very pleasant indeed, Mr. 
 
 Tand. Tandem is my name, Sir — Timotheus 
 Tandem — I am a man of business. 
 
 Sid. (aside to Jlerton) This fellow will af- 
 ford us some amusement; he is really a cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Mer. (aside to Sidney) A very whimsical 
 one, indeed. 
 
 Sid. Mr. Tandem, I shall be happy to be- 
 come better acquainted with you. 
 
 Tand. Sir, you do me great honour — a man 
 of discernment, I see — any thing in my way to 
 make myself agreeable ; a morning's chat, or an 
 afternoon's soak ; a pipe and a game at crib- 
 bage, back -gammon, bowls, or billiards — po- 
 litics or mensuration — take a part in a catch or 
 a glee — play the fiddle for a country dance, a 
 
 hornpipe? 
 
12 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 hornpipe, or a Scotch reel— draw a lease, or 
 make your will — crack a joke — puns and conun- 
 drums — nothing comes amiss — I am a church 
 and king man, and a good shot. Pray, Sir, 
 what can you do ? 
 
 Sid. Really I am very deficient in most of 
 these accomplishments. 
 
 Tand. A man of modesty, I see. — At our 
 club, Sir, there I talk to them ; — there's Parson 
 Puzzle, a man of manv words, we aroue to&'e- 
 ther, but I always beat the parson — so I do at 
 all- fours and brag. 
 
 Mer. I don't doubt the latter. 
 
 Tand. Then, Sir, there is Daniel Dawdle, our 
 apothecary, a man of pills, potions, prescrip- 
 tions and gallipots — I have convinced him a 
 thousand times that I know more of physic than 
 he does — I have confuted him till he is become 
 as sour as cream of tartar— he ! he ! he ! — I beg 
 pardon for laughing, Sir — in fact, Sir, I may 
 truly be called the light of the village — I 
 teach the fchoolmaster latin — the attorney law 
 — and the farmers agriculture and the art of 
 breeding. 
 
 Sid. I should rather have thought that you 
 preferr'd teaching the farmers wives the latter 
 art. 
 
 Tand. He! he! he! — I beg pardon for laugh- 
 ing 
 
A COMEDY. I** 
 
 ing, Sir.— Very true, Sir. —A man of wit, I 
 see— I like him the better— I'm fond of men of 
 talent. 
 
 Mer. I may consider myself happy as hav- 
 ing in my employ a person of so much know- 
 ledge as Mr. Tandem. 
 
 Tand. Oh, Sir, you confuse me, you do, in- 
 deed — come he is no fool — he's a man of taste. 
 
 Sid. Pray, Mr. Tandem, is it not near the 
 dinner hour ? — the country air gives me an ap- 
 petite. 
 
 Tand. (looking at his watch.) The dinner will 
 be on table in five minutes. 
 
 Sid. (aside to Mcrton.) Ask him to dine 
 
 with us. 
 
 Mer. If I thought our dignity would not 
 suffer.— Mr. Tandem, we hope to be honoured 
 with vour company. 
 
 Tand. O, Sir — I— I — he has found out that 
 I am a man of pleasing manners. 
 
 Sid. There is some famous old wine in the 
 cellar, I dare say. 
 
 Tand. So old, Sir, that I expect to see a 
 few dead men this afternoon — ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
 I beg pardon — and if you are fond of ale we 
 have some humming stuff— a glass or two of it 
 will make your head spin like a tetotum. 
 
 Mer. You know, Sidney, I have but a poor 
 head for the bottle, you must excuse me. 
 
 Sid. 
 
14 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Sid. You only want practice. 
 {A Bell rings.) 
 
 Tand. Gentlemen, that is your call. 
 
 JSIer. Come, I'll shew you the way. [Exit. 
 
 Sid. I say, Mr. Tandem, are you fond of 
 fun? 
 
 Tand. I love it dearly. 
 
 Sid. My friend is a philosopher ; he won't 
 drink. 
 
 Tand. A philosopher and not drink ! — impos- 
 sible ! — wine always makes me a philosopher. 
 
 Sid. I want to see the sober, Jesuitical rogue 
 under the table. 
 
 Tand. Well, that is friendly, however. 
 
 Sid. Will you assist me ? shall we soak the phi- 
 losopher ? 
 
 Tand. With all my heart : if you'll not be- 
 tray me, I am your man — I dare say he'll be 
 cursed comical in his cups — I'll tell you what 
 I'll do — I'll serve him as I did Block the But- 
 cher—a man of— of— twenty stone weight— I put 
 some brandy into his beer — made him so drunk 
 that he did not know a pair from a prial, and 
 then won all his money from him at cribbage — 
 that's the way to get on— Oh let me alone — 
 
 I am a man of business. 
 
 \ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 
 
A COMEDY, 15 
 
 SCENE II. — A Room in an Inn. 
 Enter Consols and Policy. 
 
 Con. Odd's heart! I feci myself so happy 
 ^iiice I set out on this expedition, that I am 
 quite an alter *d man, and here I swear that I 
 never will interest myself about money-matters 
 again — no — never — never — I never will ! mind 
 you send me a regular account how stocks are. 
 
 Pol. Ha ! ha ! you make a good beginning. 
 Sir. 
 
 Con. Well, well, you need not mind, then— 
 I can see by the newspapers how things are 
 going on. 
 
 Pol. Ah, Sir, you are set so fast in the stocks 
 that I believe you will never get out. 
 
 Con. Yes, I will — for I mean to sell out when 
 the 3 per cents, are at ninety. 
 
 Pol. There, Sir, you see you are at it again — - 
 it's utterly impossible for you to help thinking 
 of these things* — Why money is as natural to you 
 as — as — mud is to a pig. 
 
 Con. Right, that is very well said, Policy- 
 very well, indeed — money is mud — and, like 
 mud, whilst it lies in a heap 'tis useless and good 
 for nothing — but scatter it on a poor and barren 
 soil, md it will repay you with smiling plenty; 
 — my money has lain too long in such a useless 
 heap, and I am resolved to scatter it on a soil 
 
 which 
 
16 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 which shall yield me an interest of five-and- 
 twenty per cent, at least. 
 
 Pol. I always knew you cou'd make the most 
 of it ; but what is your plan now, Sir? 
 
 Con. My soil shall be the hearts of the poor— 
 my crop shall be their smiles, their blessing, and 
 their thanks. 
 
 Pol. A very profitable scheme, truly — why 
 surely, Sir, you have lost your senses. 
 
 Con. No, I am only just come to my senses — I 
 have found out that I have so much money that it 
 makes me miserable — and I have found out that 
 by parting with a little of it, I may make my- 
 self and hundreds more happy ; I have a 
 plethora, and nothing will relieve me but 
 bleeding, therefore, I am resolved to bleed 
 freely. 
 
 Pol. And have you been living on a crust, and 
 hoarding up money all your life, to go and make 
 ducks and drakes of it at last ? 
 
 Con. Ah, now you talk of ducks, I am afraid 
 there'll be a damn'd deal of waddling next set- 
 tling day — I shall never get my money from 
 some of them, I fear. 
 
 PoL What ! money again, Sir ? 
 
 Con. Pshaw ! it's all your fault — Why do you 
 talk to me of ducks and drakes ? — I begin to 
 think I shall never get out of the Stock Ex- 
 change ; and now I'm in the country, curse me 
 
 if 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 17 
 
 if I can ever look a bull in the face without 
 remembering what a monstrous bear I have been 
 ■ — How the devil can I look at you without 
 thinking of money ? — Your face is a perpetual 
 memorandum of pounds, shillings, and pence — 
 you book of accounts — you walking ledger — 
 you omnium of disagreeables — leave me, and 
 don't let me see or hear from you for this month- 
 
 Pol. What shall I do if stocks should rise, 
 Sir ? 
 
 Con. Very true — why let me see — you had 
 better — you must — you must go about your 
 business — 111 knock you down if you talk to 
 me about the stocks — go, leave me, Sir, and 
 don't write to me even if the bank should be 
 swallowed up by an earthquake. 
 
 Pol. Very well, Sir, I shall obey your orders 
 — and I wish you success in your new scheme 
 with all my heart (going). 
 
 Con. Here, Polic}-, come back — look at me — 
 do you think any body will suspect that I am 
 rich r — do I look like a rich man ? 
 
 Pol, Exactly ; Abraham Newland has set 
 his mark upon you — and the mint has stamp'd 
 you for its own — one may see in a moment that 
 you are a rich man, you look so miserably 
 poor. [Exit. 
 
 Con. Oh dear — Oh dear — I hope nobody will 
 find me out ; for if it's once discovered that I 
 
 c am 
 
IS THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 am rich, I am ruined — all my plan frustrated. — 
 What have I been hoarding up money all my 
 life for ? —My poor lost child, I can never hope 
 to see again. She is gone for ever— she might 
 have been the comfort of my age — well, well — I 
 must not think of it. — I have no child to inherit, 
 no brother to share my wealth — not one relation 
 in the world to leave it to — I don't even know- 
 that I have a friend — every body courts the rich 
 old miser, but all their friendship is in the funds. 
 When a man bows to me, it's not out of respect 
 for me, but for the 3 per cents — and all the 
 civility I meet with, is meant to my East India 
 bonds and lona; annuities — Oh, what a miserable, 
 poor, rich old old fellow I am. — Well, I will go 
 and seek for sincerity in some cottage where I 
 may forget my counting-house and all my cares 
 ' — and instead of studying how to get money, 
 I will for the future study how to get rid of it. 
 — I shall not want customers in my new trade, 
 I dare say and, as it is a ready money busi- 
 ness, I need not fear making bad debts. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. Mrs, Harvey's House. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Harvey reading a Letter. 
 
 " Madam. — It is with the greatest regret that 
 " I inform you of a circumstance which will, I 
 u fear, affect your happiness considerably. — ■ 
 
 I went 
 
■ 
 
 A COMEDY. 
 
 19 
 
 " I went (as you requested) to wait on Mr. Scrip, 
 " for the purpose of settling your account "with 
 " him, when I found that he had failed only a 
 " few days before. His affairs are in so bad a 
 " state, that his creditors expect little or nothing 
 
 " from them/'—- Then all is lost '.—this was 
 
 my last, my only hope. " I tell you the worst 
 
 " at once, because I know you have fortitude 
 " to bear misfortune. If it can be any allevia- 
 " tion to your distress to know that a friend 
 " shares it with you, believe me, no one can 
 " sympathize with you more sincerely than, 
 
 ,; your's truly, 
 
 " Abel Blameless. 
 
 Emma sings without and enters. 
 
 Emma. Well, my dear mother, I have seen 
 him— he is indeed a most delightful young man 
 —a countenance so full of benevolence, he has 
 already won the hearts of the villagers, who 
 welcome his approach with shouts of joy. 
 
 Mrs. Ear. Wlio : — of whom do you speak ? 
 
 Emma. Do you not know that Mr. Merton 
 is just arrived ? If you did, I am sure you 
 would partake in the general joy. 
 
 Mrs. Har. (aside) Alas ! it is a day of sor- 
 row to me. 
 
 Emma, (apart) I wonder now whether or no 
 
 he'll go to church next Sunday. 
 
 Mrs. Har. 
 
20 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Mrs. Har. {aside) I am unwilling to damp 
 her spirits — yet she must know it. 
 
 Emma. He will frequent our assembly I dare 
 say ; for I am sure he is not proud. 
 
 dearest mother, surelv something unusual de- 
 presses you — what is it ? Have you a sorrow 
 which I do not share r - 
 
 Mrs. Har. Too soon you will learn it. Pre- 
 pare then, my child, to bear with patience and 
 fortitude the affliction which cannot be averted. 
 
 Emma. Not from you, dearest mother ! — can 
 it not be averted from vou ? — cannot I bear it 
 for you ? 
 
 Mrs. Har. We must suffer together — were it 
 myself alone, I should be more resigned. 
 
 Emma. Nay, do not weep — I shall not grieve 
 if you do not. Let me know the worst at once 
 — indeed I will bear it patiently. 
 
 Mrs. Har. Hitherto, my Emma, you have 
 lived in this world of trouble without tasting of 
 the bitter cup of sorrow — hitherto you have 
 known no care — felt no misfortune. It has been 
 the pleasure of my life to see you happy, and 
 my employment to make you so — this day de- 
 prives us both of every comfort, and sends us 
 forth into the world destitute and forlorn. 
 
 Emma. And must we leave our cottage ? — 
 Who will force us from it ? — who can have the 
 heart to do it ? 
 
 Mrs. Har. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 <2l 
 
 Mrs, Har. It is no longer ours— the late Mr. 
 Merton, this young gentleman's father, was your 
 father's intimate friend—to him we owe every 
 thing ; for when Captain Harvey return d from 
 the Indies, disqualified to continue in the ser- 
 vice by a wound he had received, he had nothing 
 but his half pay to subsist on. Mr. Merton, not 
 being able to prevail with him to accept any 
 pecuniary assistance, granted him a lease of this 
 house and land, at so low a rate, that, since your 
 poor father's death, I have let the land so as to 
 clear nearly one hundred pounds a year — but 
 this day our lease expires, and we are left with- 
 out a house. Think not, my child, that I have 
 been so improvident as to forget to lay some- 
 thing by for this winter's day. 
 
 Emma. Then we still are happy ! However 
 small the pittance, let us be content. 
 
 Mrs. Har. Alas ! we are totally destitute — 
 the agent, to whose care I entrusted the ma- 
 nagement of the small sum I had saved, has 
 
 failed. 
 
 Emma. And have you no hope then? 
 
 Mrs. Har. None, whatever. 
 
 Emma. What ! have you no hope in me ? I 
 can work — Heaven will give me strength to 
 support my aged mother. Then do not despair. 
 I will be your comfort — in such a cause the hard- 
 est labour would become a pleasing task to me. 
 
 Mrs. Har. 
 
<2'2 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE ! 
 
 Mrs. Har. (embracing her affectionately) 
 Kind, affectionate girl ! — Heaven will not doom 
 thy innocence to suffer. I will hope, my Emma 
 — rwe must not forget that Power which can at 
 once disperse the cloud that lours over us, and 
 bless us with eternal sunshine. *** [Ed'it. 
 
 Emma, {after recovering from a thoughtful 
 attitude) I am sure I shall be successful — I will 
 go to Mr. Merton instantly, and make him ac- 
 quainted with our situation — he will not deny 
 his protection to the unfortunate. Dull sorrow 
 fly— I will not yield to you while such a hope 
 remains for me. Old age views only the gloomy 
 side of the landscape where nodding rocks and 
 dreadful precipices threaten the timid traveller 
 with destruction — but my youthful fancy sees 
 a path bedecked with beauteous flowers and 
 fragrant shrubs, through which the cherub 
 Hope beckons the delighted wanderer to hap- 
 piness and joy. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Drawing Room.— Enter Tan- 
 dem and Sidney. 
 
 Tend, (drunk) Ha! ha! ha! — egad, wo have 
 soaked the philosopher, though — he is gone 
 dancing through the village like a deer — but I 
 ■sav, where are you ? — come here — let me look 
 at you — you are a little damaged yourself I see. 
 
 Sid. Do you think so, my upright steward ? 
 
 Tand. 
 
A COMEDY. -» 
 
 TancL O yes ; I can see it in your eyes— they 
 seem just as if they were looking- for one ano- 
 ther—It's a strange thing to me that a man 
 cannot keep himself sober— if you could but see 
 yourself just as you are— do you think you 
 wou'd evefget drunk again?— tell me that— tell 
 
 me that. 
 
 Sid Come— no moralizing— I want to be in- 
 troduced to the blindman's buff. 
 
 Tend. What, in that state : O fie; do yon 
 think you are fit for b-b-buff, in such a pickle 
 as that— stay at home— be correct— don't ex- 
 pose yourself— stay at home— I must go and 
 take care of the philosopher. 
 . Sid "He's able to take care of himself— never 
 
 mind him. 
 
 Tand. Not mind him !— that's flat rebellion- 
 it's sedition— not mind my master ?— Am I not 
 his steward— the grand depository' of all his trust 
 and confidence— his man of business ? — and shall 
 I -suffer him to expose himself ?— no, no — stay 
 at home— go to bed and sleep yourself sober. 
 
 Sid. How did you contrive to keep yourself so 
 
 sober ? 
 
 Tand If I had drank another bottle I should 
 have been just as bad as you — but I always 
 know when to leave off— Steady— hold up— very 
 W ell— Come, you are not so bad as I thought- 
 steady. " (Exeunt 
 End or Act I. 
 
2* THE MARRIAGE PROMISE ! 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — Mrs. Howard's House. 
 
 Enter George Howard, who throws himself 
 into a chair — to him, enter Mrs. Howard. 
 
 Mrs. How. My son, you seem fatigued. 
 
 How. 'Tis, a warm day, and I have worked 
 hard, good mother. 
 
 Mrs. How. Ah, my poor George, how little 
 did I expect once that you should have heen re- 
 duced to this necessity— little did I imagine that 
 your hands wou'd ever have been disgraced by 
 labour. 
 
 How. [warmly) Disgrac'd by labour! dis- 
 grac'd! mother; are such your sentiments? — 
 These hands are made hard, 'tis true, by my 
 honest endeavours to keep want from our doors ; 
 but they have never yet been employed in any 
 action to harden this heart— then what disgrace 
 do I suffer ? 
 
 Mrs. How. Well— perhaps I have been wrong— 
 I spoke unguardedly ; but why are you so im- 
 patient? — why do you look so sternly at me? 
 
 How. Pardon, good mother; you know I love 
 and honour you — but nature has warrr/d m\ 
 bosom with a lire that will sometimes burst into 
 a flame, spite of my efforts to smother it — let us 
 
 leave 
 
A COMEDY. 25 
 
 leave this—What mean these rejoicings in the 
 village ? 
 
 Mrs. How. Surely you are not ignorant that 
 the young 'Squire, Merton, is this day of age, 
 and is come here to take possession of his estate — 
 The whole village congratulates him. 
 
 Hozv. Fools ! Do they know why they rejoice ? 
 
 Mrs. How. He is reported to be humane, be- 
 nevolent, and just. 
 
 Hozv. And possessing ten thousand a year ! — 
 these are not always the virtues of the rich. 
 
 Mrs. How. Though rich, he surely may be 
 virtuous. 
 
 Hozv. Certainly he may — but, tell me, mo- 
 ther, is not charity the fountain from which 
 every virtue flows ? 
 
 Mrs. Hozv. It is— and if this young man 
 should resemble his father, the day that brings 
 him to this village will be a happy one — he was 
 rich and charitable. 
 
 Hozv. You knew his father then ? — 
 
 Mrs. Hozv. Yes—George— I—did— know his 
 father— 
 
 Hozv. What affects you ? you seem strangely 
 agitated. 
 
 Mrs. Hozv. Nothing — surely I may respect 
 the memory of a good man. 
 
 Hozv. You, perhaps, received some great be- 
 nefit from him. 
 
 i> Mrs. 
 
26 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Mrs. How. He had many virtues — but alas ! 
 I only knew him by his faults. 
 
 Enter Consols. 
 
 Con. I ask your pardon, good folks, for thus 
 intruding — but a faint and weary traveller in- 
 treats your assistance. 
 
 Hoxc. Come in, old man — sit down, sit down 
 — come, mother, stir, stir, assist the stranger, 
 make him welcome. 
 
 Mrs. Hoxc. I will hasten and prepare refresh- 
 ment for him, George. [Exit. 
 
 Con. Thank you, good madam — I like that 
 woman's face — my heart glows at the sight of 
 her— I will leave her a legacy (aside) — You far- 
 mers have had fine times lately. 
 
 Hoxc. Yes; but when we reflect that every 
 grain of wheat we have sold at an immoderate 
 price has been moistened by the tears of the 
 poor, we have, I think, no great reason to re- 
 joice in our gains. 
 
 Con. Another legacy ! I swear by Abraham 
 Newland! (aside.) 
 
 Hoxv. (looking attentively at him) My friend, 
 1 tear you are very poor. 
 
 Con. So poor, that I can say I never yet 
 knew the pleasure of possessing money. 
 
 Hoxv. I see it in your countenance — there I 
 
 can 
 
A COMEDY. 27 
 
 can perceive cares and troubles innumerable — 
 wou'd I cou"d relieve you of them ! 
 
 Con. You shall relieve me of some of them 
 
 (aside. ) 
 
 Hoxc. A premature old age brought on by 
 misery and want— here, haughty affluence, here 
 is a lesson for you. 
 
 Con. (aside) A lesson, indeed ! 
 
 Hozv. How many thousands are there, who, 
 by parting with what they wou'd never miss, 
 could render this old man's journey down the 
 hill of life easy and pleasant to him— then might 
 they feel, as they watched the tears of gratitude 
 flowing thro' the care-worn furrows in his cheek, 
 a joy divine — Oh ! if I were one of those ■ 
 
 Con. And one of those you surely shall be- 
 Ill pay him h,is legacy in advance, without a 
 premium (aside.) 
 
 Hoxc. Oh ! when I think what the rich might 
 do, and what they do, how despicably mean, 
 how little does all their greatness appear to my 
 view. 
 
 Con. If he knew how rich I am, I suppose 
 he wou'd kick me out of his house (aside.) 
 
 Hoxc. I am rejoiced that I have it in my 
 power to oifer you some relief (takes a canvas 
 purse out of his pocket), pray accept this, and 
 believe, that if I had the means, the will would 
 
 not 
 
28 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 not be wanting to render my service more 
 complete. 
 
 Con. It is deposited in a bank which will 
 yield an interest ten-thousand-fold (aside) — 
 Youns: man, young man. you know not the 
 extent of the good you have done — your- 
 self (aside!) 
 
 Hozv. If you travel far, I hope I have ena- 
 bled you to pursue your journey with more 
 ease — shou'd it suit your convenience to stay 
 here and rest yourself, you are welcome to share 
 what our cottage affords — come, my mother, I 
 see, has prepared you some refreshment ; and 
 if a sincere welcome can add a zest to your 
 entertainment, be assured you have the best 
 that heart can give — this way — this way. 
 
 {Exit Hoxcard. 
 
 Con. (looking at the money) Stocks are up ! 
 My fortune's made — I am happier to-day, by 
 fifty per cent, than ever I was in my life before — 
 1*11 stay and end my days here, for I have found 
 what I sought — sincerity. My young farmer 
 has hit upon a good speculation — he has bought 
 in at a good time — and when settling dav ar- 
 rives, he shall find he has made the best bargain 
 he ever closed since he went to market [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 
 
A COMEDY. 29 
 
 SCENE II— Woodlands House.— Enter 
 
 Woodland «/?</Taxde.m, meeting. 
 
 Tand. How are you to-day, farmer? 
 
 Wood. Whoy I be toitish — how be you? 
 
 Tand. Well, farmer, well, I thank you — and 
 pray how is your daughter, Miss Mary, the 
 beauteous Mary — Oh, how I long for the happy 
 day that is to put me in possession of that 
 charmino; tenement by lease for life. 
 
 Wood. I doant knaw what'ee do mean, not I 
 — but thic I do knaw, her won't ha' thee. 
 
 Tand. What ! not have me, Timotheus Tan- 
 dem, Gent. ! — and why, pray ? 
 
 Wood. I doant knaw but her zays thee beest 
 so ugly, mon, and zo thee beest — I do think thee 
 beest as queer a looking zort of a chap as one 
 loight on in a long zummer's day. 
 
 Tand, I a queer looking sort of a chap — what 
 do you mean ? — A fellow of coarse manners, and 
 no taste — do vou mean to affront me? 
 
 Wood. Whoy ees, mon, if it be all the zaime 
 to'ee, I doant kear if I do. 
 
 Tand. But it's not all the same to me ; and 
 if you don't mind what you are about, I shall 
 make you repent your impertinence, man of 
 straw. 
 
 Wood. What ails 'ee, mon ? — doant 'ee be so 
 crass-temper'd — can I help it if the wench woant 
 
 ha' 
 
SO THE MARRIAGE PROMISE.* 
 
 ha' thee — you cloant want to marry me, do 'ee ? 
 Tand, Now I dare say you think that's very 
 comical. 
 
 Wood. I doant knaw — what do you think 
 about it ? 
 
 Tand. I think I shall ruin you for a joker r if 
 you don't take care — go and talk to } T our daugh- 
 ter — for if she refuses the honour I intend her, 
 you will both be sorry for it — I am Timotheus 
 Tandem, a man of power — you are farmer Wood- 
 land, a man without power— so do as I bid you, 
 or you'll find that your pigs will be driven to a 
 bad market. 
 
 Wood. Whoy I do think there be no driving 
 a pig, nor leading on him noither— doant'ee be 
 in such a plaguy passion — it ean't my fault — 
 what can I do ? 
 
 Tand. Why, are you not her father, and can't 
 you make her do as you please : 
 
 Wood. Perhaps I mought— but I do count it 
 wou'd not do to force her, and I shou'd not 
 loike it. 
 
 Tand. You wou'd not like to be forced into 
 a prison, wou'd you ? 
 
 Wood. Noa, noa, I shou'd not, I do count- 
 but look'ee here now, and 1*11 show'ee — her's a 
 good wench, and always does as I bids her, zoa 
 I doant loike to bid she do any thing as wou'd 
 make she unhappy. 
 
 Tand. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 31 
 
 Tand. And can you possibly think, that her 
 marrying me wou'd make her unhappy ? 
 
 Wood. Whoy ees, truth's truth, and I do, 
 
 mon. 
 
 Tand. Am I not a man of money, and a man 
 
 of importance? 
 
 Wood. Ees— but then as to your money, no- 
 body knows how you came boy it. 
 
 Tand. (aside) Yes, every body knows that, 
 
 I believe. 
 
 Wood. And as to your importance, perhaps 
 nobody do count so much o'that as you doa, 
 
 mon. 
 
 Tand. That's very well, farmer— very clever, 
 indeed — I see you are a man of wit — I'll pro- 
 pose a conundrum to you— now mind, what is 
 a man like, who owes money which he can't 
 
 pay? 
 
 Wood. Loike! whoy he be very loike me, 
 
 mon. 
 
 Tand, So he is, fanner; and you are very 
 
 like to go to prison. 
 
 Wood. I do zee what'ee be about, Measter 
 Tandem, but it woan't doa— I do owe thee mo- 
 ney zure, but I doan't owe thee a dowter I do 
 count— if I mun go to jail, why I mun goa, 
 but I woan"t break moy wenches heart— and if 
 thou canst put a mon there for zaying zoa, 
 
 vou'll 
 
32 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE I 
 
 you'll be worse off out o* jail than I shall be 
 within, I do count. 
 
 Tand. We'll try that, man of independence — ■ 
 I'll soon let you know that Timotheus Tandem, 
 Gent (Esquire, I believe I may say) is not to 
 be affronted with impunity — John Doe and 
 Richard Roe, two intimate friends of mine, 
 men of business, will soon call on you in my 
 behalf — I dare say, as they are men of justice 
 honour, and integrity, their mediation will be 
 of service in accommodating this little differ- 
 ence between you and me — so good morning to 
 you, old verjuice. [Exit. 
 
 JFood. Dom me if I han't a good moind to 
 zet our Jowler at un, he'd zettle matters wi' 
 un zoon — what, does he think as I'd goa to zell 
 moy wench to keep moy old bones out of a 
 jail — dom me if I woudn't stairve vurst — the 
 young sqoire won't hold wi' un in such ways, I 
 do count, if he does, what with he and his 
 measter, we shall ha' but a baddish zort of a 
 treade on it, I do vear. — However, dom me if 
 I doan't stairve, rot and perish, afore I'll make 
 a zale of my poor child. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE 
 
i 
 
 A COMEDY. 
 
 S3 
 
 SCENE III.— Mrs. Howard's House. 
 
 Mrs. Howard, George Howard, and Mary 
 Woodland discovered— Mary Woodland 
 in a chair. 
 
 Hoic. Look up, my dearest Mary— you are 
 
 with friends here— What a villain must he be 
 
 who cou'd offer an insult to so much innocence! 
 
 M. Wood. Indeed, George, I fear you will 
 
 eet into sad trouble on mv account. 
 
 How. I think not of the consequences— I'll 
 bring the unfeeling tyrant on his knees. 
 
 Mi Wood. Nay ; be not so violent— all is well 
 now— think no more of it. 
 
 Ho:c. Think no more of it ! {smothering his 
 anger. ) 
 
 Mrs. How. Do not be rash, George— consi- 
 der— what can you accomplish against so power- 
 ful an adversary ? 
 
 How. Is he more than a man, that you 
 wou'd have me be so much less than one ? 
 
 Mrs. How. Your anger sets reason at defi- 
 ance. 
 
 M. Wood. Must I sue to you in vain ? 
 How. Fear not my discretion. 
 M. Wood. Do not look so wildly then. Your 
 eyes too plainly tell me what I have to fear. 
 How. (aside.) By Heaven he shall not live i 
 M. Wood. Think of your mother, too— 
 
 e Mrs, 
 
34 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Mrs. How. No— I am not worth a thought 
 of his. 
 
 How. Mother !_ Mother!— hitherto my actions 
 have always been sway'd by the love and duty 
 I owe you— but in this instance you must allow 
 me to think for myself. 
 
 M. Wood. Mr. Merton knew not what he 
 did — I am sure he will be ready to apologize 
 when sober reason returns to him. 
 
 How. Rather say he will tell the story to his 
 dissolute companions, and set the table in a 
 roar at your expence — No — no — that shall not 
 be— If I suifer such disgrace and have not 
 dear revenge, may this arm become feeble and 
 withered, and may heav'n for ever 
 
 Mrs, How. Hold ! hold ! — You must not thus 
 give way to passion — when the storm winch agi- 
 tates vour bosom is abated, I hope to obtain a 
 promise from you, that you will pursue this no 
 further — I cou'd give you good reasons why 
 you should not refuse me this request — (with 
 great tar nest?? ess.) 
 
 M, IVood. Hear your mother — hear me join 
 my prayers to her's — If you love us, listen to our 
 intreaties. 
 
 How. If I love you — so dearly — that even 
 you shall not prevail with me to act in a man- 
 ner that would make me unworthy of you — I 
 must leave you — those eyes will soften and un- 
 man 
 
 r*J 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 3$ 
 
 man me else — You shall have no cause to com- 
 plain of me, since I go to teach proud oppres- 
 sion what is due to innocence and virtue like 
 your's, however humble the cottage in which 
 they dwell. [Exit. 
 
 M. Wood. Gone ! — and on such an errand ! 
 haste, let us pursue him. 
 
 Mrs. How. It would be in vain — see how he 
 bounds across the heath — rage and indignation 
 agitate every limb, and drive him on, perhaps, 
 to his destruction. 
 
 M. IVood. Oh, do not say so — and I the un 
 happy cause ! — Alas ! but for me it had not 
 happened. 
 
 Mrs. Hozc. May Heaven's protecting arm 
 shield him from danger. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Grove. 
 
 Enter Sidney. 
 
 * Sid. What, nothing stirring — no mischief to 
 be done — If I stay in this place three days 
 longer, I shall grow as dull and stupid as any 
 country 'squire in his majesty's dominions. — 
 What shall I do with myself — I must break my 
 neck over a. five barr'd gate, or blow my brains 
 out with a fowling piece, I suppose ; for some 
 amusement I certainly must have, or die of 
 the vapours.. — Soho ! — Soho !— I spy game— a 
 
 charming 
 
36 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE I 
 
 charming girl indeed — how lightly she trips 
 along — Pshaw ! there's a cursed old woman hob- 
 bling after her. [He retires. 
 Margery speaks without 
 
 Mar. Indeed, young lady, your legs are too 
 nimble for threescore and ten — I must sit down 
 and rest myself on this stile. 
 
 Emma without. 
 
 Emma. Do so if you plesse, Margery. 
 Enter Emma. 
 
 Emma. Yet do not stay — for I'd fly swifter 
 than the dove who seeks his absent mate — the 
 air born gossamer urg'd by the summer's breath 
 flies not so fast as my desires. As I live, yon- 
 der's the conceited spark who makes love to all 
 the girls in the village, and imagines they are 
 all in love with him. — I'll try to match him if I 
 can. [Sings. 
 
 Sid. {coming forward.) What the devil shall 
 I say to her ! — Oh — any nonsense will do — 
 Sweet is the pipe of the shepherd upon the 
 plain — pleasing the note of the lark as she 
 soars — lovely the song of the nightingale in the 
 shade — but pipe of tuneful shepherd, note of 
 sprightly lark, nor song of nightingale delight 
 my soul so much as thy angelic voice. 
 
 Emma, (affecting great simplicity) Oh lud ! 
 — Oh lud ! — how fine ! do pray say it over 
 again, Sir 
 
 Sid 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 37 
 
 Sid. By heaven you are an angel ! 
 
 Emma. Am I indeed !— well now, do you 
 know I never was told so before— country peo- 
 ple are so stupid— it's nothing but my duck, 
 and my darling, and sweeting, but you say 
 -bv heav'n vou are an angel-well, the truth 
 ont is. I never heard any body talk so to please ■ 
 
 me before (a pause) go on sir. 
 
 Sid. She's quite a ninny.-(<mV/e)-Were 
 I to talk for years, I could not say enough 
 in your praise-charming creature-I love you ■ 
 
 — I adore you — 
 
 Emma. What! so soon ?— if you love me so 
 much now, what will you do by-and-by, when ■ 
 
 you know me better ? 
 * Sid. Oh ho ! this is no twelvemonth's siege (.aside 
 
 Emma. I am sure I ought to be very much | 
 
 obliged to you for loving me so well— but are 
 Y ou°sure now that it is all real, true love, and 
 "not that fly-away sort of love that's here to-day 
 and gone to-morrow ? 
 
 Sid. True love I swear, sweet girl, and thus I 
 seal the oath. (Offering to kiss her.) 
 
 Emma, {repulsing him.) Nay,' you need not 
 seal it now, for there is no one by to witness it. 
 
 Sid. That's not so simple.— Well then I swear 
 by Cytherea's doves, and by young Cupid's bow I 
 
 and quiver, that I love you truly. 
 
 Emma. Oh, charming '.—delightful !— I could 
 
 listen 
 
38 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 listen to you for a whole month — {pause) pray 
 go on, Sir — come say something else, will you? 
 
 Sid. You shall go to the great city with me 
 and I'll make an empress of you. 
 
 Emma. An empress! well, I should like to be 
 made an empress — but will you really take me 
 to London P 
 
 Sid. I will bv the chariot of Phoebus. 
 
 Emma. I'd rather go by the stage coach. 
 
 Sid. By what conveyance you please, my 
 shepherdess of Arcadia. 
 
 Emma. And will you shew me all the sights ! 
 — the giants at Guildhall, and the lions in the 
 tower? 
 
 Sid. Oh yes — I'll shew you the lions. 
 
 Emma. Rut you won't serve me as the song 
 says, will you ? 
 
 Sid. How is that ? 
 
 Emma. If you'll promise not to look at me 
 HI sing it for you. 
 
 Sid. Oh, I'll not look upon my honour. 
 
 Emma. I must make sure of that, fori should 
 so blush if you were to see me— I must put this 
 handkerchief over your eyes. 
 
 Sid. No. no — there's no occasion for that. 
 Emma. Yes, but there is tho — for I cannot 
 sing if any body sees me. 
 (She ties the handkerchief mter Sidney's eyes.) 
 
 Sid. Well, if it must be so — it must — a very 
 pretty figure I cut here. 
 
 Emma, 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 39 
 
 Emma. Now, are you sure you cant't see : 
 Sid I am as blind as love — zounds — don't 
 pull so hard. 
 
 Emma. Now listen. 
 SONG.— EMMA. (The Music by Mr. Kelly.) 
 
 Young Colinette, a lovely maid, 
 
 Had she been wise as she was fair, 
 
 Bv Lubin had not been betrav'd, 
 
 Who prais'd her shape and prais'd her air. 
 And stole her heart awav — 
 Ah me — Ah me — well a-day. 
 
 Bv vows, as false as false cou'd be, 
 
 He ruin'd lovely Colinette, 
 
 And careless then away went he, 
 
 So left the maid to pine and fret, 
 And sigh her life awav — 
 Ah me — Ah me — well-a-day. 
 
 Sid A very tragical story indeed. 
 
 Emma. Oh, but you must not take the hand- 
 kerchief off yet, for I have something to say to 
 you, and I wou'd not have you see me for the 
 world. 
 
 Sid. What is it ? — I am all ears. 
 
 Emma. Give me a little time to think how I 
 shall tell you, for I am going to break my mind 
 
 to you — I 
 
 Enter Margery. — Emma beck ens to her and 
 
 places her between herself and Sidney. 
 
 Sid. {taking Margery by the hand) Speak, 
 my angel — come, I know what you wou'd say 
 to me — by this trembling hand I can tell. 
 
 Emma. 
 
40 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Emma. You are so impatient — well now I 
 vow I cannot tell you, it's so very silly. 
 
 {Exit Emma, slowly. 
 
 Sid. Come, rest yourself on my knee {pulling 
 Margery towards him) Oh moment of extacy. 
 I can withhold no longer — kissing Iter with fer- 
 vour.) 
 
 Enter Tandem. 
 
 Tand. (Ha ! ha ! ha !— 
 Sidney tears the handkerchief from his eyes— 
 
 Margery curtsies. — Tandem continues to 
 
 laugh. 
 
 Sid. What has that gipsey been quizzing me 
 all the while ? 
 
 Tand. Ha ! ha 1 ha ! — So— you are a man of 
 intrigue, I see — he ! he ! he 1 — beg pardon for 
 laughing. 
 
 Sid. What does all this mean J 
 
 Tand. So you were determined to have a little 
 blindman's bluff— ha, ha — he's a man of gal- 
 lantry. 
 
 Sid. Where can she be gone ? 
 
 Tand. She's not gone, Sir — here she is — here's 
 
 your love — 
 
 Sid. Psha! damnation! {Exit Sidney. 
 
 Tand. Won't you take the lady with you ? — 
 very rude indeed. — Come, lovely fair, give me 
 
 your hand. " Oh thou wert born to please 
 
 me , 'Vr {Exeunt singing. 
 
 END OF ACT II. 
 
 ACT 
 

 A COMEDY. 41 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— Library. 
 Enter Merton and Sidney. 
 
 Mer. Oh Sidney— I shall never forgive my- 
 se lf__eternal shame will pursue me. 
 
 Sid. What, man, are you mad ? — All this non- 
 sense about rumpling a farmer's daughter a little — 
 o-ive the °:irl anew ©-own, and all will be well again. 
 
 Mer. Never, Sidney, never ! — I am debased 
 lower in my own opinion than the vilest thing 
 on earth.— How far is that noble noble youth 
 above me, whose manly arm rescued her from 
 my ruffian grasp. 
 
 Si(t Yes, and if I were you— I would have 
 that noble youth in the stocks for it before 
 night. 
 
 Mer. I will have him here for ever, if his 
 o-enerous heart can link itself to one so mean as 
 
 mine. 
 
 Sid. Why Charles, the fellow is a mere clown. 
 
 Mer. Shall I despise him for that ? 
 
 Sid. Yon seem to forget that you -ere under 
 the influence of the bottle when you committed 
 this enormous crime ! 
 
 Mer. Shall I plead that as an excuse ? — Shall 
 a man who walks in a dangerous path and blind- 
 fold's himself, accuse Providence that he falls 
 
 and is hurt ? 
 
 F Sid. 
 
42 . THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Sid. Well, in the name of all that's logical 
 have it your own way, Charles — for your argu- 
 ments are truly so very ingenious that I despair 
 of confuting you. — You know nothing of the 
 world I see. — But pray tell me what do these 
 high-flown notions of honour suggest to you? — 
 what, do you intend to do ? 
 
 Mcr. I know not what to do. When per- 
 sonal insult is offered to a man, the offender 
 often atones for it with his life — what then does 
 he deserve who violates the virtuous feelings of 
 a woman ? — a being who naturally looks up to 
 him for succour and protection. 
 
 Sid. Oh, hanging is too good for such a villain. 
 — Pray Charles, is the girl handsome ? 
 
 Mer. Her countenance is the most lovely I 
 ever beheld — it was half hidden by a veil of 
 flowing ringlets, thro' which her eyes, beaming 
 with angelic softness, might have disarm'd a 
 savage tygcr's fury. 
 
 Sid. Oh say no more — you've set me on fire — 
 
 Mer. Yet I, thus heavenly as she appear'd, 
 assaulted her with brutal violence, and 
 brought the blush of shame upon her modest 
 cheek. 
 
 Sid. Shocking — shocking — how cou'd you 
 do so, Charles — you hurt my feelings very much 
 ■ — you do indeed — I shall take compassion on 
 this poor girl myself— I'll provide for her. 
 
 Mer. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 43 
 
 Mer. Sidney, beware. I know your meaning 1 
 — but if by word or deed you outrage the feel- 
 ings of Mary Woodland, I shall take it as an 
 offence to me not to be forgiven. 
 
 Sid. I have done, good knight-errand — I have 
 done. — What a pity it is that you did not live in 
 the time of Charlemagne — you wou'd have 
 shone in the page of chivalry. 
 
 Mer. Spite of your raillery, Sidney, I shall 
 act as my heart dictates to me — I have done a 
 flagrant wrong in the face of those who look up 
 to me for an example. — My expiation shall be 
 such as to shew them in what light I view my 
 own conduct — I have enquired respecting the 
 character of the girl I have used so ill, and find 
 that she is every way deserving — my heart is 
 free and I am resolved to make atonement by 
 offering her my hand in marriage. 
 
 Sid. In marriage ! 
 
 Mer. Even so — I cou'd give a thousand good 
 reasons why I shou'd do this — but they wou'd 
 only be laugh'd at by one of your way of think- 
 in o* 
 
 Sid. Marry cheese and butter ! — a dairy 
 maid. 
 
 Mer. I am resolved. She possesses a chaste 
 and delicate mind, which the insult I have offered 
 to her has severely wounded. 
 
 Sid. Your mode of reasoning is rather bevond 
 my comprehension: — I shall therefore leave you 
 
 to 
 
44 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 to converse with yourself ; and, when you have 
 fmish'd your flight through the airy regions of 
 romance, I shall be happy to join you again — 
 till then, adieu. — 111 go in search of my damsel, 
 and if I find her, I'll try if I can't make it up 
 with her without matrimony. [E.rit. 
 
 Mer. Yes ; justice demands this from me — 
 and I will hesitate no longer. 
 
 (Sits dozen at a table and writes.) 
 
 Enter Tandem, reading the Direction on a 
 small Bo.r, which he has in his Hand. 
 
 Tand. " To be opened by my son Charles 
 u Merton, on his coming of age ; or, in case 
 " of his death, to be committed to the flames." 
 What can it be about ? — I shall know now. — 
 Many a time when I have been at the great 
 chest, this little box has struck my eye, and 
 more than once I have been on the point of 
 opening it — now my curiosity will be satisfied. 
 — Sir, Sir, I hope I don't intrude — business must 
 be minded — that is ever my maxim — I hope it 
 is your's. — Here are various books of accounts, 
 leases, bonds, mortgages, grants, settlements, 
 title-deeds, bills, notes, letters of business, &c. 
 &c. &c. which require your immediate atten- 
 tion, inspection, perusal, and judgment there- 
 on. — Shall we proceed to look them over? 
 
 Mer. Not at present — some other time if 
 you please, Mr. Tandem, 
 
 Tand. 
 
A COMEDY. 45 
 
 Tand. Oh, Sir, 'tis as you pleafe, by all means. 
 — Here, Sir, is a fmall box left by your honoured 
 and worthy father, the late Mr. Merton — a man 
 of— a gentleman — with a direction, fignifying, fay- 
 ine, and requesting that faid box fhall not be 
 opened until his fon Charles, meaning yourfelf, 
 Sir, — a young man of much prudence and promife 
 —only a little addicted to drinking — hem ! — \afidi\ 
 fhall become of age, meaning years of difcretion, 
 which many people never arrive at. [Gives the box.] 
 
 Mer. Directed to me with his own hand. 
 
 Tand. You are right, Sir ; 'tis his hand, and an 
 excellent hand he wrote. — Your father, Sir, was a 
 man who fuited me to a T — for he always minded 
 his P's and Q^s — and was without blot — a man of 
 method. 
 
 Mer. He was indeed a good man — an excellent 
 man. 
 
 Tand. Yes, he was perfectly correct. — Had not 
 yuu better open the box, Sir ? — Oh how I long to 
 know what it contains ! [fjlde.~] 
 
 Mer. Here, perhaps, I fhall find his dying re- 
 queft. — If fo, to heaven I fwear, I will obey him 
 as implicitly as I did when I was under his imme- 
 diate direction. 
 
 Tand. What a time he takes to confider of it! 
 [a/ide] — It's a little good advice from the old gen- 
 tleman, perhaps— Nothing more proper for a young 
 man juft coming into life. — Open the box — pray, 
 
 g Sir. 
 
40 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Sir, do — Perhaps it may be a matter of bufincfs 
 coming immediately under my department — If fo, 
 1 can only fay that delay is dangerous, and we can- 
 not recall an hour. 
 
 Mer. You are perfectly right, Mr. Tandem — 
 But when I open this box I wifh to be alone. 
 
 Tand. Alone ! Heaven forbid ! — I would not have 
 it fo on any account in the world — Alone ! — Give 
 me leave, Sir, I am a man of experience — Open 
 that box before two — I mean one, or more cre- 
 dible witneffes — it may avoid litigation — And the 
 law, you know, Sir, the law is — every body knows 
 what that is — uncertainties — perplexities — difficul- 
 ties — embarraffments — long bills, fubpoenas, and 
 all other difagreeables — Therefore 1 defire, beg and 
 requefl, that you will open that box inftantly, 
 hereupon and forthwith. 
 
 Mer. I thank you for your advice, Mr. Tan- 
 dem — but I have other bufinefs for your attention. 
 
 '{and. tie's a man of — he's as obflinate as a 
 mule [afide] — Happy to obey your commands, 
 Sir, with the utmoit difpatch, whatever they may 
 be. 
 
 Mer. Convey this letter — deliver it yourfelf — 
 for it is of moment. 
 
 ? "and. [reading the dire3kn\ " To Mr. Wood- 
 land"— Woodland !— Woodland ! 
 
 Mer. Surely you know fuch a man. 
 
 Tand. Woodland ! Woodland ! Woodland ! 
 
 Mer. He 
 
■ 
 
 A COMEDY, 47 
 
 Mer. He is a tenant of mine— you muft know 
 him. 
 
 Tand. What! farmer Woodland? — Oh yes, I 
 know the man — he's a man of — a damn'd impudent 
 fellow [qfide] — I thought it iropoflible you could 
 correfpond with the farmer. 
 
 Mer. Whv fo? — I underftand he is an honed 
 man — he bears a moll excellent character. 
 
 Tand. Confider his walk in life, Sir — You — a 
 man of fortune — He — a dealer in pigs, peafe and 
 potatoes. 
 
 Mer. I have a great refpeft for the farmer, as 
 you will foon find. 
 
 Tand. Then I am in a pretty fcrape — I have fent 
 John Doe and Richard Roe after him — but I'll 
 fly and ar reft their proceedings [afide]* This letter 
 you fay, Sir, is in a hurry — So am I — Difpatch is 
 the foul of bufinefs— I am oft, Sir — I ret'urn in- 
 ftantly — Curfe it, he'll open the box whilft I am 
 aw ay — Woodland (hall have the Bailiff, Sir — the 
 box — the letter — he fhall have it in a box — Pfhavv! 
 • — in a moment I would have faid — Egad I fhall 
 get into the wrong box if I don't make hafte. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. A young lady defires to f[eik with you, 
 Sir. 
 
 o 2 Mer* Admit 
 
48 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 Mer. Admit her immediately — [Exit Servant. ~\ 
 Who can it be ? 
 
 Enter Emma, conducted by Servant. 
 
 A moil interefting — a lovely countenance. 
 
 [Servant bows and exit, 
 
 Emma. Sir — I — I — beg pardon — I know this is 
 an intrufion — but when I tell you the caufe I hope 
 you will not be offended— »My fpirits forfake me. 
 ]_afide.~\ 
 
 Mer. Be allured I fhall not — It is impofiible that 
 you mould offend. 
 
 Emma. I fear you will think I am too bold, thus 
 to obtrude myfelf. 
 
 Mer. There is no need of apology — I muft be 
 blind indeed not to perceive that I am in the com- 
 pany of a young lady of iuperior accomplifhments. 
 
 Emma. 1 mull not fuffer you to continue in that 
 error, Sir. — I have no accomplifiiments to boaft— - 
 Secluded from the world, 1 have paffed my whole 
 life in this village, and am now come to you to 
 fupplicate — 
 
 Mer. To fupplicate ! — To command — You can 
 alk nothing that 1 have power to grant, which I 
 have power to refute to you. 
 
 Emma. Your goodnefs emboldens me to fpeak 
 
 at once — My prayer is, that my aged mother may 
 
 net be driven from her home, but that you will 
 
 8 fuffer 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 ^9 
 
 fuffer her to end her days in peace in the dwelling 
 which (he already owes to the bounty of your 
 father. — Grant me this, and I will be your flave. 
 [preparing to kneel, ,] 
 
 Mer. [preventing her~\ Mo ft fervently I thank 
 heaven that I have the power to relieve the diftrefs 
 of a mind fo amiable — Sweet girl, your affection 
 for your parent fhows the goodnefs of your heart. 
 Whatever you defire is granted. 
 
 Emma, My heart is full of acknowledgments, 
 but my tongue denies to utter them [goi?ig.~\ 
 
 Mer. And are you fo foon going to leave me ? 
 —What am I faying ? \_afide~\ 
 
 Emma. I fly to my mother to make her ac- 
 quainted with }jour goodnefs — to tell her the extent 
 of the obligation fhe is under to you. 
 
 Mer. You are under no obligation to me — The 
 purfe of the rich man is the treafury of the poor 
 and unfortunate — and when the neceflitous draw 
 upon him, they give him an opportunity of dis- 
 charging a debt to Providence. 
 
 Emma, [afide'] I could liften to him for ever. 
 
 Mer. I will be a friend to your mother — She 
 ill a 11 find me lb. 
 
 Emma. Heaven will blefs you for it — and I — 
 
 Mer. Nay — no thanks. I cannot hear them — 
 If 1 liften to her, I am loft — Oh, could I recall a 
 few hours, what happinefs might be mine 1 [q/ide.~] 
 
 Emma 
 
50 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Emma is looking attentively at him — their eyes meet- 
 foe curt Ties and exit. 
 She is gone, and I mufl never fee her more. — 
 What means this anxiety ? — A thoufand hopes and 
 fears agitate me — In my confufion I have forgotten 
 to afk her name — Who is there ? 
 
 Enter Jefferies. 
 
 That young lady, JefFeries — do you know her ? 
 
 Jeff. Yes — 'tis Emma Harvey — She is the pride 
 of the village — beloved by every body, 
 
 Mer. Certainly I love her. 
 
 Jeff. £3o you ? — I will run and tell her (o. 
 
 Mer. Not for the world — 'twould be ruin to my 
 honour. 
 
 Jeff, No — no — not it indeed — She is well born 
 — Her father, Captain Harvey, was your father's 
 mod intimate friend — If he were alive, I am fure he 
 would approve your choice. 
 
 Mer. I did not mean that — I am completely 
 miferable — diftracled — Let me feek confolation 
 here — [looking at the box] — Here, perhaps, 1 triall 
 find a father's prudent admonitions — I Hand in 
 need of them. 
 
 Jeff. Ha 1 what have you there ? I conjure you 
 not to look upon it. 
 
 Mer. What do you mean ? 
 
 Jeff. Had your father known that my old life 
 
 wc 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 51 
 
 would have worn till now, he'd not have left you 
 fuch a legacy — But do not look at it, 'tis death to 
 your happinefs. 
 
 Mer. I feel an impulfe not to be refilled — [& 
 •pens the fox.~] 
 
 (J efferies fta?iding by him with a dejecled air.) 
 
 Jeff. 'Tis done — Alas ! 'twill grieve him fadly. 
 
 Mer. What do I fee ? — [reading] — " Do not 
 difclofe the fecret T reveal, do not become the im- 
 peacher of your father's honour." — I tremble ! — 
 What can this mean ? [reading] — " A wife and 
 fon living when I married your mother." — Gracious 
 powers ! was my father fuch a — Speak, ok" man — 
 find words for me — [reading] " JefFeries is the 
 only witnefs of my fhame, and he is deeply fvvorn 
 to fecrecy." Is the lady living?— (He does not 
 anfiver.) — Is fhe alive? — Dumb — Her fon — my bro- 
 ther — does he live ? — [with tendernejs] — Still dumb 
 — [reads] 6: Here is her folemn oath that fhe will 
 never divulge it." — But it (hall be known — I will 
 publiih ic to the world — If my brother be alive, it 
 mult be known — for the eilate is his — Not for the 
 honour of ten thoufand fathers would I rob him of 
 his right — Anfwer me, does he live ? — Speak, or 
 I will tear the fecret from your heart. 
 
 Jeff* Be cool — be cool — You muft not-— cannot 
 -know him. You find there that I am fworn not to 
 reveal what I know. 
 
 Mer. Call all the fervants— let me proclaim— 
 
 J?ff. What ! 
 
te THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 Jeff. What ! — your father's fhame ? — Is that the 
 part a fori mould act ? 
 
 Mer. Hah ! — I know not what to do — My father's 
 memory is dear to me — my own honour is dear to 
 me. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Why this abrupt entrance ? 
 Serv. Pardon me, Sir — Here is a young man 
 who will not be denied admittance to you. 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 
 Enter George Howard. 
 ]etferies Jiarts, hut inftantly recovers his Jurprife. 
 
 How. I prefume, Sir, you have not forgotten 
 that you have ken me before — nor the circum- 
 ftances under which we met. 
 
 Mer. I have not forgotten that they were mod 
 di {graceful to me, and honourable to you. 
 
 Hew. How ! 
 
 Mer. Is it fo furprifing to find a man ready to 
 acknowledge his error ? 
 
 How. I own even that is more than I ex- 
 pected — But to acknowledge your error is not dif- 
 fident — You mud make the mod fubmiilive apo- 
 logy — Mark me, Sir, mud do it. 
 
 Mer. Mud, young man?— *&nd how do you 
 ffiiean to enforce it ? 
 
 Bow. Ac 
 
■ 
 
 A COMEDY* 
 
 53 
 
 How. At the hazard of my life. 
 Mer. Indeed ! 
 Merton makes a fign to Jefferies, who retires 
 
 unwillingly. 
 How. Yes— however aftonifhing it may appear 
 to you to find one who you think fo far beneath 
 you, daring to demand an honourable fatisfa&ion 
 from you— know that I poiTefs a heart as proud as 
 yours— which will not fuffer an infult to pafs with 
 impunity from even a greater man than Mr. 
 Mer ton. 
 
 Mer. I do not know that I have infulted you. 
 How. He who infults an unprotected female, is 
 liable to anfwer it to every man of feeling— You 
 have done fo, and you (ball anfwer it to me. 
 
 Mer. Shall ! — Sir — I ana not ufed to be com- 
 pelled to do any thing— Your impetuofity defies 
 explanation — nor will I give it to a man who has 
 treated me with rudenefs. 
 
 How. Rudenefs ?— Pray what ceremony does the 
 gentleman require who has adled fo politely to a 
 female ?— Your pardon, Sir, yours are the man- 
 ners of the drawing-room, I fuppofe. 
 
 Mer. Have you any thing more to fay to me ? 
 How. Either make the apology I have demanded, 
 or take my defiance. 
 
 Mer. I have already told you that I will not be 
 compelled. 
 
 How. You refufe it, then ? 
 
 h Mtr 
 
 
54 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Mer. I dc — 
 
 How. Then you underftand how you mufl an- 
 Iwer me — Script of the fuppofed fuperiority which 
 fortune gives you, will you meet me as a man ? 
 
 Mer. Name the place. 
 
 How. The elm grove on thefouth fide the road. 
 
 Mer. Two hours hence I will meet you there. 
 
 How, 5 Tis well — I fliall be punctual. \Exit. 
 
 Mer. Why, this is well too — for if his weapon 
 prove but true, my miferics are at an end — 1 am 
 mad — diftracled — Turn which way I will, there is 
 a hideous gulf before me ready to devour me — 
 I had marked out a path for myfelf which wou'd 
 have led to happinefs — but I have wandered a few 
 paces out of my way, and I fear I fha!l never again 
 recover it — O St. Aubcrr, guide of my youth — my 
 friend — now I need your affi (lance — your advice — 
 Your gentle admonitions might confole — might 
 direct me in this moment of danger — Be it mv 
 endeavour fo to act as to merit your approbation! — 
 Honour ! Honour and Jultice be my guides ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 IND OF ACT III. 
 
A COMIDY. 
 
 5& 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Woodland's hoafe. 
 Enter Woodland and Bailiff. 
 
 Woodland. 
 
 What doft want wi* me, meafter ? 
 Bail. I have a writ for you, farmer. 
 Wood. A writ— I doan't knaw what 'ee do nvan, 
 
 not I. 
 
 Bail. Here it is. 
 
 Wood. Let's zee— let's zee— Zixty pounds !— 
 Teake hauld on't — it bean't moine. 
 
 Bail. I muft take you along with it, Matter 
 Woodland — You feem not to underftand thefe 
 things very well : this is a Writ — Timotheus T,n- 
 dem is plaintiff, and you are defendant— You muft 
 either find bail— pay the money, or go to jail. 
 
 Wood. Oh— I do underftand thee now— Thee 
 beeft John Doe, beeft thee ?— I did not think as 
 Tandem wou'd ha' done zoa— it be plaguy crofs, 
 to be fure— Well, I'll goa—Hl goa— -but I do 
 count as you can ftay while I bid 'em good boy. 
 
 Bail. Farmer, I believe you to be a very honeft 
 man, and I am heartily forry to fee you come to 
 
 H 2 f uC h 
 
 
Sf5 
 
 "THE MARRIAGE PROMISE 
 
 iuch a misfortune — I (hall make the matter as eafy 
 to you as I can — I will leave you to yourfelf for 
 an hour, if you'll give me your word that at the ex^ 
 piration of that time you'll meet me up at the 
 Greyhound. 
 
 Wood. Thee beeft koind, and I do thank thee — 
 I'll be zure to come to 'ee. 
 
 Bail. Be exact, farmer. 
 
 Wood. Doant 'ee be afraid. — -[Exit Bailiff. — 
 Zoa, I be to go to jail after all! — What will 
 poor Meary zay when her comes to knaw on't ? — 
 I do vear her'll vret martally — Howfoever, there 
 I'll goa, and there I'll flay for ever and a day afore 
 meafter Tandem fhall have his way wi' me. 
 
 Enter Tandem in hafte . 
 
 Tand. I have outrun the bailiff [afide]. Farmer, 
 your mod obedient very humble fervant ! — How 
 four he looks! [afide] Your hand, honeft man, your 
 hand. 
 
 Weed. Woant my foot do for thee ? 
 
 Ta?td. What, is the matter ? I hope I have done 
 nothing to offend you, my good friend. 
 
 Wood. What, you do zend all your good friends 
 to jail, do 'ee ? — You woant meake the place very 
 full, I do count. 
 
 Tand. Prifcn, farmer— plhaw!— nonfenfe ! — can't 
 you take a joke ? — You know my way — I am apt 
 to be a little facetious fometimes — He ! he ! he ! — 
 Mean no harm tho' — I wou'd not fend you to pri- 
 
 fon, 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 5? 
 
 fon for the world — What, an honeft, indufirious 
 man with a family ! — Oh ! I'm a man of feeling. 
 
 Wood. Feeling ! — 'Ees, I do think you be always 
 feeling forzummut — but I ttll chcc, thee had'ft befh 
 feel thy way out o'here,or thee fhall feel moy ztick. 
 
 Tand. Farmer, I tell you I am your friend — Here 
 is a letter which I have brought from Mr. Merton; 
 you'll find I have fpoken well of you to him. — I 
 wonder what that letter can be about — I have 
 turn'd it almoftinfide outwards, and have not been 
 able to read a fy 11 able of it \cfide\ — Shall I read it 
 for you ? [Snatches the letter, and is going to open it. ~] 
 
 Wood. Noa ! 
 
 "Tand, You had better let me read it — your eyes 
 are bad, you know. 
 
 Wood. Thay beant zo bad but what I can zee 
 throw thee without fpectacles — Goa thy ways mon, 
 or I'll — [Jhaking his flick.] 
 
 Tand. Oh, fie for fh a me, farmer! — is that ufrge 
 for a friend ? — He's a man of might. 
 
 Wood. Whoy doant 'ee goa ? — There's the door, 
 and there's the window — Thee had'ft belt goa out 
 at one, or thee muftat t'other. 
 
 Tand. It's vailly kind of you to give me my 
 choice. I'm not whimfical- — the door will do for me. 
 Shan't I take an anfwer to the letter? — I am yours 
 to command on all occafions— Your moil: obedient 
 and very humble fervant — My refpects to Mrs. 
 \Y. and the whole family. [Exit. 
 
 Weed. 
 
58 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 I7cd> Odd rot un, he's a falfe chap — "Let's zee 
 what's here [locking ever tl r] — Hey ! what !— 
 
 Whoy zartain zure moy ould eyes are meaking 
 geame o'rne ! — I doan't zee this rightly — Meary ! — ■ 
 Mearyi [catling] come thy ways here — whoy it is 
 me zure — Whoy, Meary, i zay, where beefr ? 
 
 Enter Mary Woodland. 
 
 M. Wood. Here, father.. 
 
 JVcod. Here — read this, wench, I doan't zee 
 rightly zomehov/. 
 
 M. JVcod [reads'] "Sir — though I cannot for- 
 <c crive myfelf for my unmanly behaviour to your 
 u daughter, yet I hope her gentle nature will yield 
 " to my entreaties, and that (he will not refufe me 
 " a pardon when fhe knows my contrition — I trull: 
 " (he will be convinced that I think her totally un- 
 " worthy fuch conduct as fne has experienced 
 " from me, when I tell her that I mean to endea- 
 " vour to atone for my fault by offering her my 
 « hand in marriage— I hope to fee you imme- 
 M diately, to convince you how earnestly I vvilh to 
 " expiate my offence, and to your feitfi- 
 
 " ments on this my propoial, 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Charles Mertok." 
 
 Wood. Whoy that's unpoffible. 
 M. Weed. It's exactly as I have read it. 
 • Wood. Gi' thee awld feither a kifs, wench — 
 
 [kiffivg 
 
A COMEDT. 5 9 
 
 \kiffing her] Luck's come to us at lad— O Meary! 
 my awld eyes be runnin go'erw i' joy — Thee'lt be a 
 leady, and zave thy whole family from ruin — It 
 were coming upon us vaft if thic had not happened 
 — Doll thee knaw az Tandem were vor zending 
 I to jail ? — But that be all over now — I'll goa and 
 tell thy mother all about it— Dom if owld wench 
 and I doant dance together at thoy wedding. 
 
 [Exit* 
 M. Wood. His heart is full of joy, but mine does 
 not mare it with him — Why dees it not ? Shou'd 
 I not rejoice to find that I have it in my power 
 to render my parents fb happy?— Ah, no: I feel there 
 is one who has an intereit here beyond theirs — 
 Either I mud lofe him who is dearer to me than 
 all the world — or I mull refufe to give happinefs 
 to thofe to whom I am dearer than life kielf — 
 How mail I decide ? 
 
 Enter George How ard, [unqbferuedJ^ 
 
 How. I now fee her, perhaps, for the lad time 
 — I fear almoft to fpeak to her, led me diould dif- 
 cover fomething unufual in my behaviour, which 
 might lead her to fuipect that all is not right — 
 Mary ! my deared Mary ! Quite loft in thought. 
 
 M. JVcod. I — indeed I was — thinking of you. 
 
 How. Of me ? 
 
 Ma Wood. Yes — but my thoughts were not (b 
 t pleafant 
 
($0 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE! 
 
 pleafant as they have been when I have thought of 
 you before. 
 
 Hozv. Perhaps you fear'd that I was in danger. 
 
 M. Wood. No, I knew you were not. 
 
 How. Indeed — how did you know that ? 
 
 M. Wocd. I have reafon to think much better 
 of Mr. Merton than I did think of him. 
 
 Hozv. 1 am glad of it. 
 
 M. Wood. Read this letter juft now brought by 
 Mr. Tandem the Steward. 
 
 [G. Howard takes the letter and reads — 
 jhe watches him the while. ] 
 
 How. I am aftonifhed — I can fcarcely believe 
 that what I fee is real — How much I have wrong- 
 ed him ! — He muft po fiefs a noble mind — Are you 
 not delighted with joi.rgood fortune? 
 
 M. Wood. Call it not good fortune — It is, in my 
 mind, the vvorft that could have befallen me. 
 
 How. You muft not think fo, fince it gives you 
 the power of extricating your family from the 
 diftrefs in which it is involved, and places it at 
 an unenviable height above the reach of poverty 
 — How difficult fhc.ll I find it to teach her this 
 leffon ! [afide] 
 
 M. Wood. I think I could lay down my life for 
 my father — but this — Oh, George! — -it is im- 
 poffible. 
 
 Hew. Will you befitate for a moment? Do nc 
 
 parent* 
 
I 
 
 COMEDY. 
 
 61 
 
 parental duty and affeftion teach you how to 
 aft? 
 
 Enter Wo odland (unobferved. ) 
 
 I have no claim upon you more than the love I 
 bear you gives me — and that love defires nothing 
 fo much as your happinefs — Happinefs in this 
 world is the refult of good actions — Then act as 
 your duty requires of you, and be happy. 
 
 Wood* \o.ftde\ What be all this about love, and 
 duty, and hoppinefs ! — 
 
 A£ Weed. Oh, George ! — you break my heart 
 •—And could you give me up t Couid you pare 
 with me fo eafily ? — What have I done that you 
 mould ceafe to love me ? 
 
 Wood. Love her ! I f tt heard oYni: afore, (qfide) 
 
 How. Ceafe to love you ! — Impoffible — My 
 heart bleeds, but flie muft not know what I feel 
 [afide] — You will foon forget me — This younggen- 
 tleman will drive me from your memory — You will 
 find his manners more engaging chan mine — He is 
 in every refpect more worthy of you — Remember 
 my laft words to you are, to beg that you will ac- 
 cept his propofal, and complete the happinefs of 
 your honeft, worthy father and your family, — Fare- 
 well, Mary — my love, farewell. . [Exit. 
 
 M. IFood. Yetftay one moment. — What! — gone! 
 — His laft words, did he lay ? — Oh — I cannot bear 
 
 — Oh ;' fie faints, and f els litolVoodlar.d's arms.) 
 
 i Wood. 
 
62 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE. 
 
 Wood. Poor wench ! — poor wench ! — What, 
 didft thee think I'd ha' thee marry againft thy will 
 for moy zeake ? — Noa — noa ! — Whoy did'nt thee 
 tell me az thou loved him? — Meary! — whoy, Meary, 
 I do zay — Lord! Lord ! her'sall as coald as a ftoane. 
 [calling] Here, George Howard, come thy ways 
 back — What mun I doar— Whoy, Meary, lookup 
 — (he is carrying her off) Ht\p ! help !— Here, Brid- 
 get — where bee ft ? — Help— help—here, Bridget, 
 where beeft? — Help — help, I do zay — Lord! Lord! 
 what a' mortal zinner I be! — Zell my child ! — Dom 
 me if Merton's eftate fhould buy her if 'twas as big 
 as the whole world ! [Exit, bearing off Mary. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 A Grove. 
 
 Enter Tandem. 
 
 <TW. Curfe that queer old hunks Woodland — 
 1 mall never be able to manage him — I will not be- 
 lieve that the girl could refufe me — that I think is 
 impofiible — A man of my figure and accomplilh- 
 ments rejected ! — -difdain'd ! — me, — who all the 
 girls in the village are dying for — Poh!— the girl's 
 no fuch fool — But I'll transfer my love — I'll make 
 fome other fair one happy— Let me fee, who mail 
 \ t b e } Ha! — here's little Blindman's buff com- 
 ing again— I'll attack her— Curfe me, though, if I 
 
 think 
 
A COMEDr. 
 
 63 
 
 think I am a match for her. — I believe I had 
 better fend her my propofals in writing [withdraws] 
 
 Enter Emma. 
 Writing ver/es in a /mall pocket-book, an.i reading. 
 Emma {reading). 
 My love I love, and love in vain: 
 
 I'll keep the fecret here. 
 Love — gentle love, why caufe fuch pain ? 
 It is not love, but fear, 
 
 That my love loves not me. 
 
 Fond heart be flill, nor thus declare 
 
 The torments I mud know. 
 Fond eyes be clos'd, ye muft not dare 
 
 To tell my love my woe — 
 
 That my love loves not me. 
 
 Tand. Oh fhe's touched — (he has it — it can be 
 nobody but me — there's no other agreeable per- 
 fon in the village — {comes forward) A very pretty 
 fong, Mifs Harvey. 
 
 Emna. I am glad it pleafes you, Sir. 
 
 Tand. She's glad it pleafes me. (afide) Love is 
 —hem ! — love is — is love. 
 
 Emma. It is indeed, Sir. 
 
 Tand* Ay, you know what it is — I have fome 
 reafon to believe, Mifs, that you are a little dif- 
 pofed that way. He ! he! he ! — 1 beg paraon for 
 laughing — I am quite ferious, I allure you — Are 
 you not a little — juft a little touch'd about here I 
 
 Emma. Oh yes — I am very bad there. 
 
 Tand. Feel a little queer — Nothing more natural. 
 
 Emma. Were you ever in love, Mr. Tandem ? 
 
 1 2 Tand. 
 
6'i THE MARRIAGE PROMI&EJ 
 
 Tand. Hem ! — {looking fignificantly) Never (o 
 much as now. 
 
 Emma. Heigho ! 
 
 Tand. Why do you figh ? — Oh the fweet crea- 
 ture ! — What caufes fuch emotion in that tender 
 bread ? Oh, how me looks at me ! — Speak — de- 
 clare — who are you in love with ? 
 
 Ewma. If I am in love, 'tis with one on whom 
 nature has lavifh'd her choicefl gifts. 
 
 Tand. Oh, Mifs!— 
 
 Emma. A perfon, all elegance and grace. 
 
 Tand. She mud mean me. 
 
 Emma. A countenance divine. 
 
 Tand. You flatter — indeed you do. 
 
 Emma. A heart full of benevolence, and a mind 
 replete with every virtue. 
 
 Tand. A very highly finifhed picture, indeed, 
 Mifs ! 
 
 Emma. Not equal to the original, I allure yon, 
 Sir. 
 
 Tand. Indeed you flatter — you do, indeed. 
 
 Emma. I did not think the fellow was fo great 
 a coxcomb. \afide\ — You won't fay I flatter if I 
 draw you another picture of a man who thinks I 
 am in love with him. 
 
 Tand. Some conceited puppy, I dare fay. 
 
 Emma. An ignorant filly fellow. 
 
 Tand. Ah — no doubt. 
 
 Emma. As ugly as he is vain. 
 Tand. Oh the wretch ! 
 
 Emma. 
 

 A COMEDY. 
 
 65 
 
 Emma. As full of noife and impertinence as a 
 magpie. 
 
 Hand, A magpie !— a conceited fool ! 
 
 Emma. A heart full of felfifhoefs — and a head 
 fulioffollv. 
 
 Hand, God blefs me ! — and with all thefe faults 
 he dares pretend to you ! — Amazing effrontery 1 
 
 Emma. How do you like that picture ? 
 
 Hand. I really can't find out the likenefs. 
 
 Emma. No — you can't fee him — but I can — 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! — Good bye, Mr. Tandem — how do 
 you like your portrait? Ha! ha! ha! — I beg 
 pardon for laughing, (mimics) [Exit, 
 
 Hand. I don't much like the portrait — but 
 there is no one living whom I have a greater re- 
 gard for than the original. | [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Mrs. Howard's. 
 (Mrs. Howard and Consols difcovered.) 
 Mrs. How. Yet he returns not— Alas ! I fear 
 his impetuous temper will drive hirn to commit an 
 action that will be fatal to our peace. 
 
 Conf. Be comforted, good Madam— do not nc 
 yourfelf unhappy till you have caufe. 
 
 Mrs. How. And have 1 not caufe ? You perh i 
 do not know what it is to be a parent. 
 
 j Ccnf, 
 
 
66 5-HE MARRIAGE PROMISE i 
 
 Conf. {with feeling) I have known what it is to 
 be a parent. 
 
 Mrs. Hew. To have an only child torn from 
 you ! 
 
 Conf. Alas 1 I have known that too — You bring 
 to my mind a misfortune which I cannot think of 
 even at this diflant period without fhedding tears — 
 Pardon the weaknefs of an old man — I had a 
 daughter whom I tenderly loved —and fhe — 
 Mrs. How. Died ? I fuppofe. 
 Conf. Worfe — worfe than that — She left me — 
 deferted the father who loved her— A villain fe- 
 duced her. 
 
 Mrs. How. Your flory affects me — Excufe me, 
 Sir, I muft retire. 
 
 Conf. Nay — flay — I will fay no more of it — 'Tis 
 five-and-twenty years ago — 'tis time it ^ou'd be 
 forgotten — Yet fometimes I cannot help thinking 
 how happy fhe might have made me — how I mould 
 have doted on her children— and— Well— well— 
 
 'tis all over — She's gone, and I 
 
 Mrs. How. You diflrefs me exceedingly. 
 Conf. I beg pardon for obtruding my forrows 
 upon you, Madam— but fo much fympathy from a 
 ftranger I did not expect, 
 
 Mrs. How. And you have never heard of your 
 daughter fince fhe left you ? 
 
 Conf. Yes— once, and only once— She wrote mc 
 a letter full of contrition, in which fhe told me, 
 
 that 
 
▲ COMEDY. 
 
 07 
 
 
 that circumftances compell'd her to banifh herfelf 
 from my prefence for ever — Too well has fhe kept 
 her rafh refolution — Alas ! perhaps (he's dead ! 
 Mrs. How. Support me, Heaven ! 
 Con. Here is her letter — I always carry it about 
 me — Read it, Madam — You will find the poor girl 
 was fully imprefs'd with ajuft fenfe of her fault — 
 (gives her the letter) — She is very much afFe&ed — 
 I fear you are unwell, Madam. 
 
 Mrs. How. A little overcome — I fhall foon re- 
 cover — Your ftory has reminded me of troubles — 
 How (hall 1 tell him ?■ — My faltering tongue denies 
 it's affiftance — I had a father whom I loved and 
 honoured — I left him — I am that wretch, doom'd 
 now to fee him finking into the grave in mifery and 
 forrow — Look, Sir — look on this — [Shews Confols 
 <i pitture.) 
 
 Conf. Gracious Heavens ! what do I fee !— M 
 own portrait — It was a gift to my daughter— the 
 daughter I have loft. 
 
 Mrs. How. Have five-and-twenty years of ior- 
 row fo alter'd this face, that you can find no trace 
 by which you may remember her whom you loved 
 fo well, and who requited you fo ill ? 
 
 Conf. Yes, yes — here I remember you — my heart 
 leaps with joy, and claims you for its own {em- 
 braces her.) 
 
 Mrs. How. And can you forgive me ? 
 
 Ccnf. 
 
68 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Con/. Talk not of forgivenefs — thefe tears of joy 
 have wafh'd away the memory of your offence. 
 
 Mrs. How. Oh, my father — had I thought that 
 you were poor and friendlefs, nothing fhould have 
 kept me from you — How muft your old age have 
 required a daughter's filtering care ! and that 
 daughter has denied it you — But I thought you had 
 been rich, and cou'd command the comforts which 
 your age required — Alas ! I have been deceived, 
 my father — 
 
 Conf. We won't fay any thing about that juft 
 now — We muft forget what's paft my child — Your 
 fon — I am now all anxiety on his account — where 
 is he ? 
 
 Mrs, How. Oh, let us fly in fearch of him — 
 Some dreadful misfortune has, I fear, befallen 
 him. 
 
 Conf. Heaven forbid! — I feel an unutual intereft 
 for him — I had adopted him for my own before I 
 knew what claim he had upon me. 
 
 Mrs. Hew. You will, I truft, find him every way 
 worthy of your good opinion. 
 
 Conf. I began my journey as the fervant of Pro- 
 vidence — My fervices are accepted, and here I re- 
 ceive my reward before I have been able to de- 
 fer ve it. Come, let us leek your fon. 
 
 \jtxcunt. 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 69 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 A Drawinz Room. 
 
 En ier M e r t n and Wo d l a n d . 
 
 Woodland. 
 
 Your zarvant, zir — I be come to have a little 
 matter o 5 consultation wi' you — Moy neame be 
 Woodland — Zummut about matrimony — it be an 
 arkard zoart of a thins;. 
 
 Mer. Matrimony — Sometimes it is indeed. 
 
 Wood. Noa — noa — I did no' mean thic — Matri- 
 mony be well enough when folk do loike one ano- 
 ther — but when they doant — they do rr.eake but a 
 baddilh treade on't, I do count. 
 
 Mer. True — very true — He comes to drive me 
 ftrll further into the toil [vehemently A 
 
 Wood. Lord, what a mortal rage he be in ! [ : fide] 
 Then, as I were azaying, zir — if they doant loike 
 one another — whoy they doan'c— and all the talking 
 in the world won't meake 'em. 
 
 Mr. There can be no happinefs in the married 
 flate without a reciprocal attachment. 
 
 Wood. Zartin, zartin — zure there can't — thic be 
 
 K juft 
 
70 THE MAHRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 juft what ] do r W ik-^Woantee zit down, zir, and 
 let us talk thic matter over ? — [They fit. ~] 
 
 Mer. With aH m i heart- Cc me, fpeak out — I 
 am prepared for the word — [wildly\ 
 
 Wood. Now if I co tell him as our Meary 
 woan't ha' him he'll zartainly do himfelf zome 
 mortal harm — [afide] — Now rr.oy ■ would be 
 
 ablefUng to any mon az her ioiked. 
 
 Mer, No doubt of it. 
 
 Wood. But if her doan't loike him, whov what's 
 to be done thep ? — I cou'd loike thee ror a zon-in- 
 law well enough — but if moy wench doan't like 
 th r .e, I doan't knaw how to meake her. 
 
 Mer. ~ ftarting up] Not love me, did you fay ? 
 
 JVco I [alarmed] Noa — aoa — I did not mean 
 thic ! — Be cool — be cool — What mun I zay to un? 
 [afide] — DoanYee be angry wT I — for it be no 
 vault o' moine — But thic be it — Thou woudft not 
 chooze to have a wench vor thy woife az loved 
 another better ner thee ? 
 
 Mer. Oh, if ir were fo ! — [pa]ficn.ite!y~) 
 
 Wood. Thou'dO: go and hang thy 'elf, I do 
 count. — Now, ccnie what will on't, I'll not tell 
 him [afide). — I did no' zay az her did no' loike 
 thee — Doant'ee be zo mortal crafs. 
 
 Mer. Do you come here to torture me ! to drive 
 me mad ! — Away ! Bring your daughter to me in- 
 ftantly, left I revoke the word I have given, and 
 
 refufe 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 71 
 
 refufe to become the deftrcyer of my own happi- 
 nefs. [Exit 
 
 Wood* Lord, Lord ! what a defperate thing thic 
 love be! He be mid az zure az a gun. — Well, 
 I'll aoa and fetch Meaty to un, and zee whar fhe 
 can do wi' un — I'll leave 'em to zet le \ their own 
 
 way Lord, Lord! how he will teake on when 
 
 be comes to knaw as Meary woan't ha' him ! — 
 JHk'li hanghimzelf az zure az 1 be borned. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A Grove. 
 
 Enter Tandem, followed by two Conftabks. 
 
 Tand. Give challenges ! x\ pretty fellow, truly ! 
 A man of mettle too ! — What an opportunity for 
 me to fh >w my affection to Mr. Merton ! 1 am 
 glad old JefFeries told me of it. — [To the Cznfta- 
 bles] Mind you fpring on him fuddenly, and hold 
 him fa ft ; for he is a terrible dor, and if he mould 
 catch hold of me, he'll worry me in a moment. 
 
 ift Ccnft. Well, but, Meafter Tandem, you'll 
 help us if the fendant fhou'd be obftroboius ? 
 
 Ta d. Not I, indeed : I won't come within fifty 
 yards of him. 
 
 ift Conft. Whoy then I doubt Dick and I (hall 
 hardly be a match for'n ; fhall us, Dick ? 
 
 id Conft. Whoy I can charge him in the King's 
 flame to keep the peace, if you will hold him faft. 
 
 ift Conft* 
 
72 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE : 
 
 zft Co'lJI. Lord help you ! he'll no more mind 
 char^incr than you'd mind a pop gun. I doubt 
 we fhall get paid upon the pate for charging him. 
 
 Tand. You abominable cowards ! are you afraid 
 of one man ? — Is not that he coming this way ? 
 [fearfully.] Do your duty — I'll ftand here [retires 
 up.~] Spring on him. 
 
 ift Conft.] We'll do the bed we can, but I am 
 afraid he'll be a little rumgumtious, or fo. 
 
 [They withdraw. 
 
 Enter George Howard. 
 
 How. Yes, I will wait here-, fori flrongly fuf. 
 peel fome foul play. If he fhould come as he 
 has promiied, it will then be time enough to ex- 
 plain. I know Tandem, who brought the letter, 
 to be a fellow totally devoid of principle, and I am 
 difpofed to think there can be no honourable inten- 
 tion where he is concerned. 
 
 Tand. Very well, my man ! Mighty pretty, in- 
 deed ! Now, lads-, now is the time. [The Confta- 
 
 hks advance^ 
 
 How. It is impoflible; Merton cannot be fin- 
 cere It is fome device— fome \JheConf fables 
 
 feize him.'] 
 
 Beth Ccnft. We charge you, in the King's name, 
 
 to keep the peace. 
 
 How. What does this mean ? 
 
 i ft Co'Jl. 
 
 -JL« 
 

 A COMEDY. 73 
 
 17? Conft. Peace, in the King's name. 
 How. Good friends, how have I broken the 
 peace ? 
 
 j ft Conft. [to id Conft.'] How has he broke the 
 peace ? 
 
 id Conft, I know nought o' that ; but he mull 
 come with us — So bring him along. 
 
 How, By whole defire do you act thus ? 
 
 [Tandem makes figns to the Conflahles,] 
 ift Conft. What d'ee fton grinning there for } 
 Whoy doant'ee come and tell fendant what he's 
 charg'd ? 
 
 [Tandem comes forward reluctantly.] 
 Tand. Oh curfe the blockhead ! Hold him fall ! 
 hold him fad, I fay ! 
 
 How. So, then, my fufpicions were not un- 
 founded Repti;e ! [t9 Tandem furio'J-fty,] 
 
 Tand, [alarmed.! Hold him fad! hold him 
 faft ! 
 
 How, Vile tool of unjufi power ! 
 Tand. Bring- him along. 
 
 How, Good friends, db not refill me ; the con- 
 fequences may be fatal to volt. 
 [After a fight ftruggle he efcapes from the Confta- 
 b!es> and runs up /^Tandem in a threatening 
 pofture. The Con liable s run off,\ 
 'Tand, Pray now do, honeft man, confider I am 
 oblig'd to do as I am bidden. 
 
 How, What, then, you confefs your villany ! 
 
 Tand, 
 
?4 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE! 
 
 Taxd. Don't be Li fuch a paflion, and I will 
 confefs any thing. 
 
 How. The letter you brought to Farmer Wood- 
 land was ail a cheat — a trick — a contrivance, 
 
 Tand. Yes, it was a contrivance. 
 
 How. An.! you arc the vile emiflary of a greater 
 villain than yourfeif, fcnt here to prevent his re- 
 ceiving the punilhment I 
 
 Tand. Yes, that is exactly ir, I confefs — Be ap- 
 peafed, man of might, be appeafed ! 
 
 Haw. Wretch ! you are beneath my refent- 
 ment. 
 
 Tand. Upon my foul I am very glad of it. 
 
 How. Go. 
 
 Tand. Wth fpeed — I am off. 
 
 How. Tell your employer that his mean arts 
 will not avail, and he (hall find that he has no com- 
 mon enemy to deal with. 
 
 Tand. 1 (hall communicate Oh, he's a ter- 
 rible tieer — I'm elad I am out of his claws. 
 
 Exit. 
 
 How. Yes, I will attack the ferpent ir his 
 hiding-place — By Heaven he {hall not efcape me ! 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 SCENE 
 
A COMEDY, 7 5 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A Parlour in Merton's Hovfe. 
 
 Enter Jefferies, fclloived by Mrs. Harvey and 
 
 Emma. 
 
 Emma. Can we not fee Mr. Merton, Sir ? 
 
 Jeff. Not at prefent, young lady — He is gone 
 out — but I hope he will foon return. — May I aik 
 your b.ifinefs? 
 
 Emma, I have brought my mother to thank him 
 for his kindnefs to her. 
 
 Mrs, Har. We are much beholden to him, 
 Mr. Jeffcries — He has renewed the leafe for my 
 daughter's life and mine — and fent us an order on 
 his banker to pay mv daughter one thoufand 
 pounds on the day of her marriage. 
 
 Jff. Excellent young man ! — Pray heaven no 
 harm come to him ! 
 
 Emma. \jarncf.lj~\ Is he in any danger, Mr. 
 Jefferies ? 
 
 Jeff. No, no, I truft not — I have taken good 
 care to prevent any bad confequences — Well, a 
 thoufand pounds is no bad portion — The dear boy 
 has done that out of refpeel for your father's 
 memory. 
 
 Emma, But I (hall never claim it, Mr. Jeffcries 
 — -I do not intend to marrv. 
 
 Jeff, What : never, young lady : — I know one, 
 7 who. 
 
76 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE! 
 
 who, if things 2;o as tbev fhould, will foon offer 
 hirnfelf, and I think you will not refufe him — AYc 
 (hall fee — we (hall fee. 
 
 Emma, [aftde^ O delufive hope, whither do you 
 lead me ? — 
 
 Tandem w lib c ut . 
 
 Tand, Murder ! — murder ! — murder ! 
 
 Enter Tandem. 
 
 Tand. They are at it — they are at it — Piftols, 
 blunderbuffes, flugs and hair-triggers — Wogden 
 and Mortimer — he'll be killed ! — Howard's a Cure 
 (hot as ever went into a Rubble — I never knew him 
 mifs his bird. — Mr. Merton will lofe his life, and 
 I (hall lofe my place. 
 
 Emma, Mr. Merton ! Oh heavens ! 
 
 Jeff. Why do I ftand here ?— Oh, that I had 
 the activity of youth, that I might fly to favehim! 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Tand* I did as I was defired — but I cou'd not 
 prevent the meeting; for Howard got away from 
 me, and Mr. Merton came up jult in the fame 
 moment — He 's a dead man as fure as I am alive — 
 Come along, Mifs — There is nothing like having a 
 lady by on thele occahons — Lord ! how pale you 
 look— She'll certainly faint — Come, old lady, help 
 her along' — make hade, or it will be all over before 
 we get there. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 77 
 
 SCENE I V, 
 A Grove. 
 
 Enter Mertox and George Howard meeting* 
 
 How. [Jarcqftically] So, Sir ! you are caught in 
 your own fnare. — No doubt you expected to mee 
 me here. 
 
 Mer. I do not underftand you — nor am I much 
 difpofed to parley — Come, we are both unattended, 
 and 'tis bed it (hould be fc — Such fcenes as thefe 
 fhou'd have no witnerTes. 
 
 How. And are there none ? — Is there no one 
 concealed to fpring upon and difarm me ? — Has 
 your cunning devifed no trick to fhield your 
 cowardice ? 
 
 Mer. [drawing his piftol] Cowardice ! — \recol- 
 le cling him[elf\ But I came here to die — difpatch! — 
 I am the aggreflbr— aim at my heart, and— — 
 
 Enter Jefferies. 
 
 Jeff, [rujhing between them] Madmen, hold ! — - 
 Ye know not what you do. 
 
 How. Admirably plann'd, indeed ! — andjuftas 
 I expected. 
 
 Mer. [to Jefferies, who clings to him] Old man, 
 away ! — away, I fay ! 
 
 Hew. This is the contrivance of a coward ! — 
 
78 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE: 
 
 Mer. Again !• — It is not to be borne, [prefents 
 bhpiftol] 
 
 Jeff, [clinging to him] Hold ! 
 
 [Mer ton dif engages himfelf.] 
 
 Jeff, \rujhe& up to him — and /peaks in an under 
 voice to him] 'Tis a brother's blood you would fpill. 
 
 Mer. [finks int o Jeff trie ss arms'] A brother! — 
 Heaven have mercy ! — did you fay a brother ? — 
 Brother — [ajfeclionateiy to Howard, who is in amaze- 
 merrf] Do not fly my embrace— you are my bro- 
 ther — [embracing him] 
 
 [Enter all the characters hajlily.] 
 
 [ E m m a faints in M £ r t o n 's arms — S icney affij 
 to recover her.] 
 
 [Mrs. Howard runs up to George Howard 
 
 Mrs. How. My Ton ! my fon ! — what is it yc 
 dor 
 
 How. Do not be alarmed, dear mother — Here 
 is no harm done — But there might have been if 
 what I hear be true. — Have I — have I a brother? 
 [Mrs. Howard is fin prized \ and Left at es.] 
 
 Mer. Anfwer him boldly, Madam, by reading 
 this. [ ? ives a paper] 
 
 Mrs. How. [reads] i( And as it is for your in- 
 <£ tereft, I folemnly fwear never to reveal the 
 n fecret of our marriage." It fhculd indeed 
 
 :r have been reveal'd. 
 5 Mer. 
 
A COMEDY. 
 
 79 
 
 Mer. Excellent woman! — you have been deep- 
 ly wronged — But thank heaven, I live to do you 
 juflice. 
 
 How. And have I fought a brother's life ? 
 Mer. I am indeed your brother — proud of the 
 title which deprives me of ten thoufand a year. 
 
 Conf. He fhall not touch one milling of it — I 
 tell him fo — his grandfather, Old Confols. 
 
 Mrs. How. Here, George, you owe another 
 duty. 
 
 Conf. Stand not amazed, my boy — Confols is a 
 name you need not be afhamed of (embracing him) 
 Tand. What — the rich Chriftopher Confols of 
 Throgmorton Street ? 
 
 Cons. Yes — I am old Kit. 
 fund. Why, report fays you are worth half a 
 (pillion in 3 per cents — 4 per cents — 5 per cents — 
 India flock— Bank (lock — live and dead flock, 
 md all other flocks. 
 
 Conf. Report fpeaks truly for once. 
 Tand. I wifh I were a relation of yours, if it 
 vere only fixteenth coufin. 
 
 Conf. You are from town, I fuppofe, Sir ?— Pray 
 can you tell me the price of flocks ? 
 
 Wood. Well— ye be all fettling matters your 
 own ways — and I fhou'd be glad to know which 
 o' you two brothers be to ha' Meary — 1 can an- 
 fwer for it as fhe do love you befl, George. 
 M. Wood. He is my firfl, my only love. 
 
 l 2 Mer. 
 
80 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE. 
 
 Mer. What do I hear ? 
 
 Wood. There now — he' 11 go mad again. 
 
 Mer. (looking at Emma) Then I am free to 
 ehoofe. May I — may I hope ? 
 
 Jeff, I'll ipeak to that — I have made fome ob- 
 ervations — and I think — I may venture to do this 
 (joining their hands,) 
 
 Tand. What am I to get by all this ? 
 
 Wood. A good ztick, I do hope. 
 
 Tand. I think, Mr. Sidney, you and I had bet- 
 ter pair off together. 
 
 Sid. Merton, you have made a convert of me— 
 Adieu to difiipation, I am now for a country life, 
 a 
 
 Tand. Fat wife, fourteen children, — pigs, — 
 poultry, — peace and plenty — that is what you wifli 
 I know. 
 
 Mer. Your virtues, deareft Madam, claim my 
 refpecl:, and duty ; and if I know my heart aright, 
 it will pay you with true filial affection — Frater- 
 nal love affords me a new fource of delight — and 
 here I have atreafure, which I (hall poffefs without 
 alloy, if furrounding friends will fandtion my choice, 
 and pledge themfelves never to flight 
 
 THE MARRIAGE PROMISE. 
 FINIS. 
 
 Wilks and Taylor, Printers, Chancery-Lane. 
 
 mm 
 

-,