Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

  FAULKLAND O Julia! I am bankrupt in gratitude! but the time is so pressing, it calls on you for so hasty a resolution. — Would you not wish some hours to weigh the advantages you forego, and what little compensation poor Faulkland can make you beside his solitary love?

  JULIA I ask not a moment. No, Faulkland, I have loved you for yourself: and if I now, more than ever, prize the solemn engagement which so long has pledged us to each other, it is because it leaves no room for hard aspersions on my fame, and puts the seal of duty to an act of love. But let us not linger. Perhaps this delay ——

  FAULKLAND ‘Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition!

  JULIA Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act. — I know not whether ’tis so; but sure that alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will be sufficient to support us; and exile never should be splendid.

  FAULKLAND Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride perhaps may increase the natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure. Perhaps the recollection of a deed my conscience cannot justify may haunt me in such gloomy and unsocial fits, that I shall hate the tenderness that would relieve me, break from your arms, and quarrel with your fondness!

  JULIA If your thoughts should assume so unhappy a bent, you will the more want some mild and affectionate spirit to watch over and console you: one who, by bearing your infirmities with gentleness and resignation, may teach you so to bear the evils of your fortune.

  FAULKLAND Julia, I have proved you to the quick! and with this useless device I throw away all my doubts. How shall I plead to be forgiven this last unworthy effect of my restless, unsatisfied disposition?

  JULIA

  Has no such disaster happened as you related?

  FAULKLAND I am ashamed to own that it was pretended; yet in pity, Julia, do not kill me with resenting a fault which never can be repeated: but sealing, this once, my pardon, let me to-morrow, in the face of Heaven, receive my future guide and monitress, and expiate my past folly by years of tender adoration.

  JULIA Hold, Faulkland! — that you are free from a crime, which I before feared to name, Heaven knows how sincerely I rejoice! These are tears of thankfulness for that! But that your cruel doubts should have urged you to an imposition that has wrung my heart, gives me now a pang more keen than I can express!

  FAULKLAND

  By Heavens! Julia ——

  JULIA Yet hear me, — My father loved you, Faulkland! and you preserved the life that tender parent gave me; in his presence I pledged my hand — joyfully pledged it — where before I had given my heart. When, soon after, I lost that parent, it seemed to me that Providence had, in Faulkland, shown me whither to transfer without a pause, my grateful duty, as well as my affection; hence I have been content to bear from you what pride and delicacy would have forbid me from another. I will not upbraid you, by repeating how you have trifled with my sincerity ——

  FAULKLAND

  I confess it all! yet hear ——

  JULIA After such a year of trial, I might have flattered myself that I should not have been insulted with a new probation of my sincerity, as cruel as unnecessary! I now see it is not in your nature to be content or confident in love. With this conviction — I never will be yours. While I had hopes that my persevering attention, and unreproaching kindness, might in time reform your temper, I should have been happy to have gained a dearer influence over you; but I will not furnish you with a licensed power to keep alive an incorrigible fault, at the expense of one who never would contend with you.

  FAULKLAND

  Nay, but, Julia, by my soul and honour, if after this ——

  JULIA But one word more. — As my faith has once been given to you, I never will barter it with another. — I shall pray for your happiness with the truest sincerity; and the dearest blessing I can ask of Heaven to send you will be to charm you from that unhappy temper, which alone has prevented the performance of our solemn engagement. All I request of you is, that you will yourself reflect upon this infirmity, and when you number up the many true delights it has deprived you of, let it not be your least regret, that it lost you the love of one who would have followed you in beggary through the world! [Exit.]

  FAULKLAND She’s gone — for ever! — There was an awful resolution in her manner, that riveted me to my place. — O fool! — dolt! — barbarian! Cursed as I am, with more imperfections than my fellow wretches, kind Fortune sent a heaven-gifted cherub to my aid, and, like a ruffian, I have driven her from my side! — I must now haste to my appointment. Well, my mind is tuned for such a scene. I shall wish only to become a principal in it, and reverse the tale my cursed folly put me upon forging here. — O Love! — tormentor! — fiend! — whose influence, like the moon’s, acting on men of dull souls, makes idiots of them, but meeting subtler spirits, betrays their course, and urges sensibility to madness! [Exit.]

  [Enter LYDIA and MAID.]

  MAID My mistress, ma’am, I know, was here just now — perhaps she is only in the next room. [Exit.]

  LYDIA Heigh-ho! Though he has used me so, this fellow runs strangely in my head. I believe one lecture from my grave cousin will make me recall him.

  [Re-enter JULIA.]

  O Julia, I am come to you with such an appetite for consolation. — Lud! child, what’s the matter with you? You have been crying! — I’ll be hanged if that Faulkland has not been tormenting you.

  JULIA

  You mistake the cause of my uneasiness! — Something has flurried me a

  little. Nothing that you can guess at. — [Aside.] I would not accuse

  Faulkland to a sister!

  LYDIA Ah! whatever vexations you may have, I can assure you mine surpass them. You know who Beverley proves to be?

  JULIA I will now own to you, Lydia, that Mr. Faulkland had before informed me of the whole affair. Had young Absolute been the person you took him for, I should not have accepted your confidence on the subject, without a serious endeavour to counteract your caprice.

  LYDIA So, then, I see I have been deceived by every one! But I don’t care — I’ll never have him.

  JULIA

  Nay, Lydia ——

  LYDIA Why, is it not provoking? when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last! There, had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements! — so becoming a disguise! — so amiable a ladder of ropes! — Conscious moon — four horses — Scotch parson — with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop — and such paragraphs in the newspapers! — Oh, I shall die with disappointment!

  JULIA

  I don’t wonder at it!

  LYDIA Now — sad reverse! — what have I to expect, but, after a deal of flimsy preparation with a bishop’s license, and my aunt’s blessing, to go simpering up to the altar; or perhaps be cried three times in a country church, and have an unmannerly fat clerk ask the consent of every butcher in the parish to join John Absolute and Lydia Languish, spinster! Oh that I should live to hear myself called spinster!

  JULIA

  Melancholy indeed!

  LYDIA How mortifying, to remember the dear delicious shifts I used to be put to, to gain half a minute’s conversation with this fellow! How often have I stole forth, in the coldest night in January, and found him in the garden, stuck like a dripping statue! There would he kneel to me in the snow, and sneeze and cough so pathetically! he shivering with cold and I with apprehension! and while the freezing blast numbed our joints, how warmly would he press me to pity his flame, and glow with mutual ardour! — Ah, Julia, that was something like being in love.

  JULIA If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you only by laughing heartily at you; but it suits more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your cap
rice, which I know too well caprice can inflict.

  LYDIA

  O Lud! what has brought my aunt here?

  [Enter Mrs. MALAPROP, FAG, and DAVID.]

  Mrs. MALAPROP So! so! here’s fine work! — here’s fine suicide, parricide, and simulation, going on in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe!

  JULIA

  For Heaven’s sake, madam, what’s the meaning of this?

  Mrs. MALAPROP

  That gentleman can tell you— ’twas he enveloped the affair to me.

  LYDIA

  [To FAG.] Do, sir, will you, inform us?

  FAG Ma’am, I should hold myself very deficient in every requisite that forms the man of breeding, if I delayed a moment to give all the information in my power to a lady so deeply interested in the affair as you are.

  LYDIA

  But quick! quick sir!

  FAG True, ma’am, as you say, one should be quick in divulging matters of this nature; for should we be tedious, perhaps while we are flourishing on the subject, two or three lives may be lost!

  LYDIA

  O patience! — Do, ma’am, for Heaven’s sake! tell us what is the matter?

  Mrs. MALAPROP Why, murder’s the matter! slaughter’s the matter! killing’s the matter! — but he can tell you the perpendiculars.

  LYDIA

  Then, prithee, sir, be brief.

  FAG Why, then, ma’am, as to murder — I cannot take upon me to say — and as to slaughter, or manslaughter, that will be as the jury finds it.

  LYDIA

  But who, sir — who are engaged in this?

  FAG Faith, ma’am, one is a young gentleman whom I should be very sorry any thing was to happen to — a very pretty behaved gentleman! We have lived much together, and always on terms.

  LYDIA

  But who is this? who! who! who?

  FAG

  My master, ma’am — my master — I speak of my master.

  LYDIA

  Heavens! What, Captain Absolute!

  Mrs. MALAPROP

  Oh, to be sure, you are frightened now!

  JULIA

  But who are with him, sir?

  FAG

  As to the rest, ma’am, this gentleman can inform you better than I.

  JULIA

  [To DAVID.] Do speak, friend.

  DAVID Look’ee, my lady — by the mass! there’s mischief going on. Folks don’t use to meet for amusement with firearms, firelocks, fire-engines, fire-screens, fire-office, and the devil knows what other crackers beside! — This, my lady, I say, has an angry savour.

  JULIA

  But who is there beside Captain Absolute, friend?

  DAVID

  My poor master — under favour for mentioning him first. You know me, my

  lady — I am David — and my master of course is, or was, Squire Acres.

  Then comes Squire Faulkland.

  JULIA

  Do, ma’am, let us instantly endeavour to prevent mischief.

  Mrs. MALAPROP O fy! it would be very inelegant in us: — we should only participate things.

  DAVID

  Ah! do, Mrs. Aunt, save a few lives — they are desperately given,

  believe me. — Above all, there is that bloodthirsty Philistine, Sir

  Lucius O’Trigger.

  Mrs. MALAPROP

  Sir Lucius O’Trigger? O mercy! have they drawn poor little dear Sir

  Lucius into the scrape? — Why how you stand, girl! you have no more

  feeling than one of the Derbyshire petrifactions!

  LYDIA

  What are we to do, madam?

  Mrs. MALAPROP Why, fly with the utmost felicity, to be sure, to prevent mischief! — Here, friend, you can show us the place?

  FAG

  If you please, ma’am, I will conduct you. — David, do you look for Sir

  Anthony.

  [Exit DAVID.]

  Mrs. MALAPROP Come, girls! this gentleman will exhort us. — Come, sir, you’re our envoy — lead the way, and we’ll precede.

  FAG

  Not a step before the ladies for the world!

  Mrs. MALAPROP

  You’re sure you know the spot?

  FAG I think I can find it, ma’am; and one good thing is, we shall hear the report of the pistols as we draw near, so we can’t well miss them; — never fear, ma’am, never fear.

  [Exeunt, he talking.]

  Scene II

  The South Parade. [Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE, putting his sword under his great coat.]

  ABSOLUTE A sword seen in the streets of Bath would raise as great an alarm as a mad dog. — How provoking this is in Faulkland! — never punctual! I shall be obliged to go without him at last. — Oh, the devil! here’s Sir Anthony! how shall I escape him? [Muffles up his face, and takes a circle to go off.]

  [Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE.]

  Sir ANTHONY How one may be deceived at a little distance! Only that I see he don’t know me, I could have sworn that was Jack! — Hey! Gad’s life! it is. — Why, Jack, what are you afraid of? hey! — sure I’m right. Why Jack, Jack Absolute! [Goes up to him.]

  ABSOLUTE Really, sir, you have the advantage of me: — I don’t remember ever to have had the honour — my name is Saunderson, at your service.

  Sir ANTHONY

  Sir, I beg your pardon — I took you — hey? — why, zounds! it

  is — Stay — [Looks up to his face.] So, so — your humble servant, Mr.

  Saunderson! Why, you scoundrel, what tricks are you after now?

  ABSOLUTE

  Oh, a joke, sir, a joke! I came here on purpose to look for you, sir.

  Sir ANTHONY You did! well, I am glad you were so lucky: — but what are you muffled up so for? — what’s this for? — hey!

  ABSOLUTE ’Tis cool, sir, isn’t it? — rather chilly somehow: — but I shall be late — I have a particular engagement.

  Sir ANTHONY Stay! — Why, I thought you were looking for me? — Pray, Jack, where is’t you are going?

  ABSOLUTE

  Going, sir?

  Sir ANTHONY

  Ay, where are you going?

  ABSOLUTE

  Where am I going?

  Sir ANTHONY

  You unmannerly puppy!

  ABSOLUTE I was going, sir, to — to — to — to Lydia — sir, to Lydia — to make matters up if I could; — and I was looking for you, sir, to — to ——

  Sir ANTHONY

  To go with you, I suppose. — Well, come along.

  ABSOLUTE Oh! zounds! no, sir, not for the world! — I wished to meet with you, sir, — to — to — to — You find it cool, I’m sure, sir — you’d better not stay out.

  Sir ANTHONY

  Cool! — not at all. — Well, Jack — and what will you say to Lydia?

  ABSOLUTE Oh, sir, beg her pardon, humour her — promise and vow: but I detain you, sir — consider the cold air on your gout.

  Sir ANTHONY

  Oh, not at all! — Not at all! I’m in no hurry. — Ah! Jack, you

  youngsters, when once you are wounded here [Putting his hand to

  CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE’s breast.] Hey! what the deuce have you got here?

  ABSOLUTE

  Nothing, sir — nothing.

  Sir ANTHONY

  What’s this? — here’s something damned hard.

  ABSOLUTE

  Oh, trinkets, sir! trinkets! — a bauble for Lydia!

  Sir ANTHONY

  Nay, let me see your taste. — [Pulls his coat open, the sword falls.]

  Trinkets! — a bauble for Lydia! — Zounds! sirrah, you are not going to

  cut her throat, are you?

  ABSOLUTE Ha! ha! ha! — I thought it would divert you, sir, though I didn’t mean to tell you till afterwards.

  Sir ANTHONY

  You didn’t? — Yes, this is a very diverting trinket, truly!

  ABSOLUTE Sir, I’ll explain to you. — You know, sir, Lydia is romantic, devilish romantic, and very absurd of course: now, sir, I in
tend, if she refuses to forgive me, to unsheath this sword, and swear — I’ll fall upon its point, and expire at her feet!

  Sir ANTHONY Fall upon a fiddlestick’s end! — why, I suppose it is the very thing that would please her. — Get along, you fool!

  ABSOLUTE

  Well, sir, you shall hear of my success — you shall hear. — O

  Lydia! — forgive me, or this pointed steel — says I.

  Sir ANTHONY O, booby! stay away and welcome — says she. — Get along! and damn your trinkets!

  [Exit CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

  [Enter DAVID, running.]

  DAVID

  Stop him! stop him! Murder! Thief! Fire! — Stop fire! Stop fire! — O Sir

  Anthony — call! call! bid ‘m stop! Murder! Fire!

  Sir ANTHONY

  Fire! Murder! — Where?

  DAVID

  Oons! he’s out of sight! and I’m out of breath! for my part! O Sir

  Anthony, why didn’t you stop him? why didn’t you stop him?

  Sir ANTHONY

  Zounds! the fellow’s mad! — Stop whom? stop Jack?

  DAVID

  Ay, the captain, sir! — there’s murder and slaughter ——

  Sir ANTHONY

  Murder!

  DAVID Ay, please you, Sir Anthony, there’s all kinds of murder, all sorts of slaughter to be seen in the fields: there’s fighting going on, sir — bloody sword-and-gun fighting!

  Sir ANTHONY

  Who are going to fight, dunce?

  DAVID Every body that I know of, Sir Anthony: — everybody is going to fight, my poor master, Sir Lucius O’Trigger, your son, the captain ——

  Sir ANTHONY

  Oh, the dog! I see his tricks. — Do you know the place?

  DAVID

  King’s-Mead-Fields.

  Sir ANTHONY

  You know the way?

  DAVID Not an inch; but I’ll call the mayor — aldermen — constables — churchwardens — and beadles — we can’t be too many to part them.

  Sir ANTHONY Come along — give me your shoulder! we’ll get assistance as we go — the lying villain! — Well, I shall be in such a frenzy! — So — this was the history of his trinkets! I’ll bauble him!

  [Exeunt.]