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Enter Sir Guy STANCII, R. Oh! Sir, I've been so surprised and delighted; and you'll be delighted. I've met dear Rosine !
Sir G. Who?
[Going. Ell. [Holding him.] Nay. Sir G. The learning of the pupil has quite satisfied me.
Ell. But, dear papa, she is in distress; she claims your hospitality,
Sir G. That claim was never refused by the Stanch's!She shall be received, though she were president of the Blue Stocking Club. Ell. That's a dear dad !
[Patting his cheek. Sir G. Call me dad, and you miay do any thing. What the deuce shall I say to this old starch female buzwig ?-1 wish I could hit on some hard words. [Ellen advinces with Rosine.)–Old buzwig! I never beheld a more lovely and in. teresting creature !--Hem!--Pardon, madam, my unphi. losophical incompatibility to make my congratulatory advances recommendatory and conciliatory to a lady, [Peeping at a letter.) who is aufaut of astronomy, botany, chemistry, history, geography, geology, philology, and chronology.
El. Ha! ha! ha!
Ros. Receive my heartfelt acknowledgments—but allow me, Sir, to enter my humble protest against that system of education, whose object is rather to obtain the meed of public applause than to insure the felicity of domestic retirement--and which teaches the arts of obtaining a husband, rather than the duties of making one happy.
Sir G. Your sentiments are admirable! I long to introduce you to the Hall.
Ros. First, know the person you thus honour-. Niy mother was an Englishwoman, who was discarded by her family for marrying a native of France.
Sir G. And serve her right.
Ros. Oh, Sir, had you known pay father, you might have been pleased to think otherwise.
Sir G. To what English family did your mother belong? Ros. I know not, Sir-my parents carefully concealed it.
Sir G. Why this is the history of old Cleveland's daughter! Your father's name?
Ros. Saint Clermont.
fought in the armies hostile to the existing government. At length, the usual remittances did not arrive ;-this, though it filled my heart with dread for the fate of my dear parents, was not otherwise important, as, by the indulgent judgment of the teachers, I was thought capable of communicating the instruction I had received :—there, I remained contented, till an unfortunato attachment, an--an-ill-placed confidence,-my words are incoherent.
Sir G. Never mind ; 'tis a proof they are sincere.
Sir G. Aúd when words come from one heart they generally find their way to another.-'Fore gad, I'm so charmed, that if you wished to be Lady Stanch, or, what is more, asked me for my favourite hound, hang me, if I could re
Eli. Dear papa! Oh, we'll be so happy !-And I wou't teaze you any more.
Sir G. Won't you ? that's right.-Curse the ologies,
Ell. Yes, cur—Oh dear! [Putting her hands before her mouth.] Aud I'll make iny harp twang with Sir Roger de Corerly, and the Devil among the Tailors.
Sir G. Will you ?
EH. Yes !-and, what's more, I'll go hunting with you, and, before the lark has chanted its matin sung, I'll be under your window singing,
Hark, hark, away,
Follow, follow, follow.
END OF ACT 11.
SCENE I.-Templeton's Library. Enter Mr. TEMPLETON, R. meeting Mrs. TEMPLETOX, L.
Tem. Look here, madam ! sec what the report of my supposed wealth has produced : these are the effects of your in bocent falsehood—your harmless exaggeration-subscription-hounds, races, balls, clubs, canals, railways, [Throuing papers on the table.] There's not a speculativu of interest or folly, that I ain not expected to patronize ; and I must either incur the censure of illiberality, by a refusal, or embarrass my fortune by compliance.
Enter Robert, R. who delivers papers, and exit, R. Bills of my son's :-s0, so, he has heard the report, and is gone mad again.
Mrs. T. Does not the chest contain the title-deeds, and I know not what, of old Cleveland, whose will is made in
Tem. But, Madam, Mr. Cleveland lives—
Mrs. 7. Pshaw !'twill ouly be wonder of an hour ; you will hear nothing of it to-morrow.
Tem. To-morrow! I nauseate the word ; my whole house is infected with it : indeed, Julia, if you saw with my eyesMrs. T. Your eyes, Mr. Templeton !
Tem. Though I admit they cannot rival yours in lustre, yet they can clearly discern that ruin
Mrs. T. Ruin!-the oddest and most disagreeable word I ever heard. I beg you'll vot repeat it, iny love.
Tem. Your amended conduct must prevent its iteration,
Mrs. T. Must, my dear!
[They walk about in anger. Enter DAMPER, L. Crosses, c. Dan. Here I am again. Hey-day! What are they about?-Oh, I see ; a pedestrian contest. The lady has the foot hollow-Tempieton, you're beat. [Laying hold of him.] So, stop, stop, I say, my peripatetic disputants, while I ivform you (can't you be quiet?) that I like you so well, that I've purchased an estate in your neighbourhood; and, to prevent disappointment, have proinised to pay five thousand of the purchase-money to-day, which l must have of you. [Templeton and wife stund motionless.] I've brought them to a stand still at last; so, open this iron portal, and let the Pactolean stream flow.-_'Vhat, silent !
M1rs. T. Oh, Templeton. [Crosses, c.] I see my error. Pardon me, shield me; this shall be onr last quarrel, indeed it shall.
[Runs out, R. Dam. So, the lady has started again. Come, come! why don't you let me have the money? Not a word ! immoveable! Is it so ? Mr. Templeton, I cannot misunderstand your meaning, and my thanks are due for having with such moderation checked my unwarrantable application, my impertinent intrusion.
[Bows, and is going, l. T'em. [Stopping him.] Not so, not so, my friend! Dam. How then, Sir ?
Tem. With shame and sorrow, let me own, that what my wife and I averred, respecting the contents of that chest, was-false.
Dam. [Starts.] Destruction to my hopes !
Dam. I think not of that ; concealment is now impossi. ble. Templeton, summon to your aid that fortitude which is the inmate of an honest breast, while you peruse that letter.
Tem. [Reading.) “ Your son's speculations—other fai. lures-have caused a run-Expect bankruptcy.”—"Tis sudden, 'tis terrible" Our only hope is delay—that ray of hope
Dam. I have unfortunately extinguished-for, not daring to doubt your verity, I wrote to hasten the payments.
Tem. Oh, divine truth, none with impunity ever violate thy hallowed shrine!
(Weeps. Dam. Come, man, do not sink.
Tem. These are not selfish drops-To ruin those who placed their confidence in me--my son — my wife
Dam. I'll break it to her.
Dam. Let her smile through her tears ; I don't know any thing more becoming: but, as you please-Here's your con.
Tem. His buoyant hopes for ever wreck'd.
Dam. He is young and able ; let him boldly buffet with the tempest, till its fury ceases, and the gale of prosperity again fills his sails.
Tem. Could I but secure his happiness !
Dam. Send him to Sir Guy Stanch's; there reposes the gem he covets.
Tem. Indeed! [ rejoice at it, [Aside.] A marriage with Sir Guy's daughter would meet my wishes ;-—It shall be so.
[Goes to a table and writes. Enter VINCENT, L. [Crosses, R.] Vin. No tidings of her. Heigh ho! how willingly would I give the wealth that chest contains, to procure the sweet repose of a tranquil mind, the proud consciousness of innate rectitude.
Dam. How now!-melancholy ?
Vin. Oh, no; overjoyed that your fears for my father were illusory.
Dum. His wealth is illusory,- founded in error, in mistake,—be sure you do not name it.-Behold him, Vincent ; he wants such consolation as a virtuous son can bestow. Vin. Virtuous son!
[Aside. Dam. And your reformed conduct in regard to Rosine gives me assurance
Vin. Does he mock nie ?
Dam. I say, that your obtaining for her the honourable protection of Sir Guy Stanch, at whose window I just now beheld her
Vin. Is she there? [With surprise and animation.
Dam. [Indignantly taking his hand. Did you not know it? Look at me, Sir.-Did she fly there for safety ? Away! away!
[Exit, l. Vin. Is she so near ? Blest tidings ! then may I sue for pardon, may again behold her ! [Templeton groans.) Ah, a groan !--Selfish wretch! what are thy maudling griefs to his unmerited misery ? [Templeton rises.] Oh, my father! if laying down my life
Tem. You offer the sacrifice of life as an aconement for what the sacrifice of follies might have averted. But I pardon you.
Vin. Oh, Sir, never again shall this heart he stabbed by your anger, or more deeply wounded by your forgiveness.
Tem. Vincent, you cannot know the affection a father bears his child. It impels every thought, governs every action, forms the object of his life, nor leaves him at the awful hour of death. As that hour may not be far distant from me Vin. Oh, in mercy!
[Weeps. Tem. I meant not to distress you. I've just learnt where your affections are engaged. Here's a letter to Sir Guy Stanch; it will aid the fulfilment of your heart's fondest wishes, and my blessing be upon your union. No thanks. -Lead me in, my son ; for I feel as if I had suddenly grown