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Part IV.


The player's profession,

Lies not in trick, or attitude, or start,
Nature's true knowledge is the only art,
The strong felt passion bolts into his face,
The mind untouch'd, what is it but grimace!
To this one standard, make your just appeal,
Here lies the golden secret, learn to Feel;
Or fool, or monarch, happy or distress'd,
No actor pleases that is not possess'd.

A single look more marks the internal woe,
Than all the windings of the lengthening oh!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.

Chapter I.

Section I.


Hardcastle. Blessings on my pretty innocence ! Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain.

Miss Hardcastle. You know our agreement, Sir. You allow me the mornings to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner, and in the evening, I put on my house-wife's dress to please you.

Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms of our agreement; and, by the bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening. Miss H. I protest, Sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.

Hard. Then to be plain with you Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son has set out, and that he intends to follow him shortly.

Miss H. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before. Dear me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never controul your choice; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understanding.

Miss H. Is he?

Hard. Very generous.

Miss H. I believe I shall like him.

Hard. Young and brave.

Miss H. I'm sure I shall like him.

Hard. And very handsome.

Miss H. My dear papa, say no more, [kissing his hand.] he's mine, I'll have him.

Hard. And to crown all Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.

Miss H. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplishments. A reserved lover it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.

Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the feature in his character that first struck me.

Miss H. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so every thing, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him. Hard. Ay, Kate, but there's still an obstacle. more than an even wager he may not have you.


Miss H. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so? Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; and set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer.

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Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time, I'l go prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits, on the first muster. [Exit Hard.

Miss H. This news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he puts last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, good-natured; I like all that. But then reserved and sheepish, that's much against him. Yet can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I-But I vow I am disposing of the husband before I have secured the lover.

Section II.


Patent and Dowlas.


Patent. Walk in, Sir; your servant, Sir, your servant-have you any particular business with me?

Dowlas. Yes, Sir, my friends have lately discovered that I have a genius for the stage.

Pat. Oh, you'd be a player Sir, did you ever play?

Dow. No, Sir, but I flatter myself

Pat. I hope not, Sir; flattering one's-self is the very worst kind of hypocrisy.

Dow. You'll excuse me, Sir.

Pat. Ay, Sir, if you'll excuse me for not flattering you. I always speak my mind.

Dow. I dare say you will like my manner, Sir.
Pat. No manner of doubt, Sir-I dare say I shall
-pray, Sir, with which of the ladies are you in love?
Dow. In love, Sir!-ladies! [looking round]
Pat. Ay-Miss Comedy, or Dame Tragedy!
Dow. I'm vastly fond of Tragedy, Sir.
Pat. Very well, Sir; and where is your forte ?
Dow, Sir?

Pat. I say Sir, what is your department?
Dow. Department ?-Do you mean my lodgings,

Pat. Your lodgings, Sir?-no, not I; ha, ha ha, I should be glad to know what department you would wish to possess in the tragic walk-the sighing lover, the furious hero, or the sly assassin ?

Dow. Sir, I should like to play King Richard the Third.

Pat. An excellent character indeed a very good character; and I dare say you will play it well, Sir. Dow. I hope you'll have no reason to complain, Sir. Pat. I hope not. Well, Sir, have you got any favourite passage ready?

Dow. I have it all by heart, Sir.

Pat. You have, Sir, have you?—I shall be glad to hear you.

Dow. Hem-hem-hem-[clearing his throat.] What will the asspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground--I thought it would have mounted. See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death; Oh! may such purple tears, be always shed On those who wish the downfall of our house; If there be any spark of life yet remaining Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither, I that have neither pity, love, nor fear.

Pat. Hold, Sir, hold-in pity hold, za, za, za, Sir, Sir-why, Sir, 'tis not like humanity. You won't find me so great a barbarian as Richard ;--you say he had neither pity, love, nor fear,-now, Sir, you will find that I am possessed of all these feelings for you at present-I pity your conceit, 1 love to speak my mind; and I fear you'll never make a player.

Dow. Do you think so, Sir ?

Pat. Do I think so, Sir!-Yes, I know so, Sir! now, Sir, only look at yourself your two legs kissing as if they had fallen in love with one another;-and your arms dingle dangle, like the fins of a dying turtle [mimics him] 'pon my soul, Sir, 'twill never do,pray, Sir, are you of any profession?

Dow. Yes, Sir, a linen draper!

Pat. A linen draper! an excellent business; a very good business-you'll get more by that than by playing, you had better mind your thrumbs and your shop-and don't pester me any more with your Richard and your-za, za, za,-this is a genius!-plague upon such geniuses I say.

Section III.


Dr. Swift. Surely, Addison, fortune was exceedingly bent upon playing the fool (a humour her lady. ship, as well as most other ladies of very great quality, is frequently in) when she made you a minister of state, and me a divine.

Addison. I must confess we were both of us out of our elements. But you do not mean to insinuate, that, if our destinies had been reversed, all would have been right?

Swift. Yes, I do. You would have made an excellent bishop, and I should have governed Great

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