The London stage : a collection of the most reputed tragedies, comedies, operas, melo-dramas, farces and interludes ; accurately printed from acting copies, as performed at the Theatres Royal, and carefully collated and revised
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• 3' -0 ik^^ Ts^ (<"■?. wi# m-'A^i^'Tt^^ 'iii^ZY ^'ii^ r ^v •,V*,>s >» t^'Jiiu Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Pittsburgh Library System http://www.archive.org/details/londonstageGolle_02lond Second' ffrou^ >.rtSSFOoj k TM^jnsaciUL iP^iETiEMirs. fhtltAdiPuTiKi^-flis£h^7cf AilmianS^j/ fyShervMi a>U C /janus.'o-^.iw ^0 ^O'^^r Cje and Dalne, Typ. ALL IN THE WRONG; A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.— BY ARTHUR MURPHY. Act H— Scene 1. SIR JOHN RESTLESS SIR WILLIAM BELLMONT BEVERLEY BELLMONT CHARACTERS. BLANDIORD ROBERT BRUSH LADY RESTLESS BELINDA CLARISSA SERVANTS ACT I, Scene I.— The Parle. Enter SiR JoHN Restless and Robert. Sir J. Sir John Restless ! Sir John Restless ! thou hast played the fool with a vengeance. What devil whispered thee to marry such a woman? Robert, you have been a faithful servant, and I va- lue you. Did your lady go out at this door here into the Park, or did she go out at the street door? Rob. This door, sir. Sir J. Robert, I will never live in a house again that has two doors to it. Rob. Sir! Sir J. I will give warning to my landlord in- stantly. The eyes of Argus are not sufficient to watch the motions of a wife, where there is a street door, and a back-door, to favour her escapes. Roh. Upon'my word, sir, I wish — you will par- don my boldness, sir — I wish you would shake off this uneasiness that preys uppn your spirits. It grieves me to the heart, it does, indeed, sir, to see you in this way : banish your suspicious : you have conceived some strange aversion, I am afraid, to my lady, sir. Sir J. No, Robert, no aversion ; in spite of me, I dote iipon her still. Rub. Then why will you not think generously', sir, of the person you love? My lady, I dare be sworn — Sir J. Is false to me. That embitters my whole life. I love her, and she repays me with ingrati- tude, with perfidy, with falsehood, with — Roh. I dare be sworn, sir, she is aVoman of ho- nour. Sir J. Robert, I have considered yon as a friend in my house ; don't you betray me too ; don't at- tempt to justify her. Rob. Dearsir,if you will but give me leave: yoa have been an indulgent master to me, and I am only concerned for your welfare. You married my ladj for love. Sir J. Yes; I married her for love. When first I saw her, I was not so much struck with her beauty, as with that air of an ingenuous mind that appeared in her countenance; her features did not so much charm me with tlieir symmetry, as that expression of sweetness, that smile, that indicated aflability, modesty, and compliance. But, honest Robert," I was deceived ; I was not a month mar- ried, when I saw her practising those very smiles at her glass : I was alarmed ; I resolved to watch her from that moment, and I have seen such things! Roh. Upon my word, sir, I believe you wrong her, and wrong yourself: you build on groundless surmises ; you make yourself unhappy, and my lady too ; and, by being constantly uneasy, and never shewing her the least love,— you'll forgive me, sir, — you fill her mind with strange suspicions, and so the mischief is done. Sir J. Suspicions, Robert! Rob. Yes, sir, strange suspicions. My lady finds herself treated with no degree of tenderness ; she infers that your inclinations are fixed elsewhere, and so she is become — you will pardon my blunt honesty — she is become downright jealous ; as jea- lous as yourself, sir. Sir J. Oh! Robert, you cannot see, that all her pretences to suspect me of infidelity are merely a counterplot to cover her own loose designs : it is but a gauze covering, though ; it is seen through, and only serves to shew her guilt the more. 50 ALL IN THE WRONG, [Act I. Roh. Upon my word, Sir John, I cannot see — Sir J. No, Robert, I know you can't ; but I can. Her suspicions of me all make against her ; and yet it is hut too true, that she still is near my heart. Oh ! Robert; Robert, when I have watched her at a play, or elsewhere ; when I have counted her oglings, and her whisperin;;s, her stolen glances, and her artful leer, with the cunning; of her sex, .she has pretended to be as watchful of me: dis- iserabling, false, deceitful woman ! Itob. And yet, I dare assure you — Sir J. No more ; I am not to be deceived ! I know her thoroughly, and row — now — has she not escaped out of my house, even now? Bob. Bnt with no bad design. Sir J. I am the best judge of that ; which way did she go? [Horse-guards., Rob. Across the Park, sir : that way, towards the Sir J. Towards the Horse -guards! there — there ■ — there! the thing is evident: you may go in, Robert. Rob. Indeed, sir, I — Sir J. Go in, I say ; go in. Rob. There is no persuading him to his own good. [Exit. Sir J. Gone towards the Horse-guards! my head aches ; my forehead burns ; I am cutting my horns. Gone towards the Horse-guards! I'll pursue her thither: if I find her, the time, the place, all will inform against her. Sir John! Sir John! you were a madman to marry such a woman. [Exit. Enter Beverley and Bellmont, meeting. Bev, Ha! my dear Bellmont! A fellow sufferer in love is a companion well met. Bell. Beverley, I rejoice to see you. Bev. Well; I suppose the same cause has brought us both into the Park ; both come to sigh our amo- rous vows in the friendly gloom of yonder walk. Belinda keeps a perpetual war of love and grief, and hope and fear, in my heart : and let me see — (^Lai/s his hand onBellmo?it's breast. ) how fares all here? I fancy my sister is a little busy with you. Bell. Busy! she makes a perfect riot there. Not one wink the whole night. Oh, Clarissa! her form so animated! here^'esso — Bev. Pr'ythee, truce; I have not leisure to at- tend to her praise : a sister's praise too ! the great- est merit I ever could see in Clarissa is, that she loves you freely and sincerely. Beli. And to be even wiih you, sir, your Be- linda, upon my soul, notwithstanding all your la- vish praises, her highest perfction, in my mind, is her sensibility to the merit of my friend. Bev. Oh, i3ellmont! such a girl! But tell me honestly, now, do you think she has ever betrayed the least regard for me 1 Bell, How can yon, who have such convincing proofs — how can you ask such a question? That uneasiness of yours, that inquietude of mind — Bev. Pr'ythee, don't lix that character upon me. Bell. It is your character, my dear Beverley: instead of enjoying the object before you, you are ever looking back to something past, or conjectur- ing about something to come, and are your own self- tormentor. Bev. No, no, no ; don't be so severe : I hale the very notion of such a temper ; the tiling is, when a man loves tenderly, as I do, solicitude and anxiety are natural ; and when Belinda's father opposes my warmest wishes — Bell. Why, yes ; the good Mr. Blandford is wil- ling to give her in marriage to me. Bev. The senseless old dotard ! Bell. Thank you for the compliment : and my fa- ther, the wise Sir William Bellmont — Bev. Is a tyrannical, positive, headstrong — Bell. There again, I thank you. But, in short, the old couple, Belinda's father and mine, have both agreed upon the match. They Insist upon compli- ance from their children; so that, according to their wise heads, I an» to be married ofl'hand to Belinda, and you and your sister, poor Clarissa, are to be left to shift for yourselves. Bfv. Racks and torment ! Bell. Racks and torment! Seas of milk, and ships of amber, man! We are sailing to our wished-for harbour, in spite of their machinations. I have settled the whole aft'air with Clarissa. Bev. Have you? Bell. I have ; and to-morrow morning makes me possessor of her chiirras. Bev. My dear boy, give us your hand : and then, thon dear rogue, and then Belinda's mine'! Loll toll loll ! Bell. Well may you be in raptures, sir, for here, here, here they both come. Enter Belinda and Clarissa. Bev. " Grace was in all her steps ; heav'n in her eye ; In ev'ry gesture dignity and love." Belin. A poetical reception, truly ! But can't your passion inspire you to a composition of your own, Mr. Beverley? Bev. It inspires me with sentiments, madam, which I can't find words to express. Suckling, W^aller, Landsdown, and all our dealers in love verses, give but a faint image of a heart touched like mine. Belin. Poor gentleman ! what a terribig taking you are in ! But if the sonneteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have von had recourse to a painter, as you promised me ; Bev, I have, Belinda, and here, here is the hum- ble portrait of your adorer. Belin. {Talces the picture.) "Well; there is a like- ness : but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be. Bev. Abetter! now she is discontented. (Aside.) Where, madam, can a better be found ? If money can purchase him — Belin. Oh, sir ! when he draws for money, he never succeeds. But, when pure inclination prompts him, then his colouring is warm, indeed. He gives a portrait that endears the original — Bev. Such an artist is worth the Indies! Belin. You need not go so far to seek him : he has done your business already. The limner I mean is a certain little blind god, called Love, and he has stamped such an impression of you here — Bev. Madam, your most obedient ; and I can tell you, that the very same gentleman has been at work for you too. Bell. ( Who had been talking apart with Clarissa.) Oh ! he has had a world of business upon his hands, for we two have been agreeing what havoc he has made with us. Cla. Yes ; but we are but in a kind of fool's pa- radise here: all our schemes are bnt mere castle- building, which your father, Mr. Bellmont, and, my dear Belinda, yours, too, are most obstinately de- termined to destroy. Bell. Why, as you say, they are determined that I shall have the honour of Belinda's hand in the country dance of matrimony. Belin. Without considering that I may like an- other partner better. Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there, who is as well inclined to a matrimonial game of romps as any girl in Christendom, must both of us sit down, 'and bind our brows with willow, in spite of our strongest in- clinations to mingle in the group. Bell. But we have planned our own happiness, and with a little resolution we shall be successful in the end, I warrant you. Clarissa, let us take a turn this way, and leave that love-sick pair to SCUNE 1.] ALL IN THE WRONG. lliemselves : Ihey are only fit ooinpany for each Giber, and we may find wherewithal to entertain ourselves. Cla. Let us try : turn this way. Bell. Are you going to leave us, Clarissa? Cla. Only just sauntering into this side-walk : we sha'n't lose one another. \^Exeunt Bell. Sf Clar. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bell- inont: I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me. (Aside.) Bel'm. AVell,sir! ThoughtfuU ! I'll call 3Ir. Bell- mont back, if that's the case. Bev. She will call him back. (Aside,) Beliii. Am I to entertain you, or you me? Bev. Madam ! Belin. Madam! ha, ha! Why, you look as if you were frightened. Are you afraid of being left alone with me ! Bev. O, Belinda ! you know that is the happiness of my life ; but — Belin, But what, sir? Bev. Have I done any thing to offend yon? Belin. To offend me? Bev. I should have been of the party last night ; I own I should; it was a sufficient inducement to me that you were to be there; it was my fault, and you, I see, are piqued at it. Belin. I piqued ! Bev. I see you are ; and the company perceived it last night. I have heard it all : in mere resent- ment, you directed all your discourse to Mr. Bell- mont. Belin. If I did, it was merely accidental. Bev. No, it was deliberately done : forgive my rash folly in refusing the invitation ; I meant no manner of harm. Belin. Who imagines you did, sir? Bev. I beg your pardon, Belinda; you take of- fence too lightly. Belin. Ha, ha! what have you taken into your head now? You create for yourself imaginary mis- understandings, and then are ever entering into ex- planations. But this watching for intelligence from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, be- trays strong symptoms of jealousy. I would not be married to ajealous man for the world. Bev. Now she's seeking occasion to break off. (Aside.) Jealousy, madam, can never get admis- sion into my breast. I am of too generous a tem- per: a certain delicacy, I own I have ; I value the opinion of ray friends, and when there are circum- stances of a doubtful aspect, I am glad to set things in their true light. And if I do so with others, surely with you, on whom my happiness depends, to desire a favourable interpretation of my words and actions cannot be improper. Belin. But these little humours may grow up, and gather into the fixed disease of jealousy at last. Ladv Restless crosses the stage, and rings a bell at the door. And — there, now, there goes a lady, who is a vic- tim to her own fretful imagination. Bev. Who is the lady, pray? Belin. My Lady Restless. Walk this way, and I will give you her whole character. I am not ac- quainted with her ladyship, but I have heard much of her. This way. lExeunt Belinda and Beverley. LadyR. (Rings at the door.) What do these ser- vants mean? There is something going forward here. I will be let in, or I will know the reason why. (Rings again.) But, in the mean time. Sir John can let any body he pleases out at the street door: I'll run up the steps here, and observe. \^Exit. Tattle opens the door; Marmalet/oZ/ou;s her. Tat. Wlio rung this bell ? I don't see anybody ; and yet I am sure the bell rung. Well, Mrs.Mar- malet, you will be going, I see. Mar. Yes, Mrs. Tattle, I am obliged to leave you. I'll step across the Park, and I shall soon reach Grosvenor-square. When shall I see you at our house? Tat. Heaven knows when I shall be able to get out, my lady leads us all such lives. I wish I had such another place as you have of it. Mar. I have nothing to complain of. Tat. No, that you have not: when shall I get such a gown, as that you have on, by my lady? She will never fling off such a thing, and give it to a poor servant. Worry, worry, worry, herself, and every body else, loo. Re-enter Lady Restless. Lady R. No, there is nobody stirring that way. What do I see ? A hussy coming out of my house ! (Aside.) Mar. Well, I must be gone, Mrs, Tattle : fare you well. Lady R. She is dizened out too 1 (Aside.) Why did you not open the door, Tattle, when I rung? Tat. I came as soon as possible, madam. Lady R. Who have you with you here ? What is your business. Mistress? (To Marmakt,} Mar. My business, madam? Lady R. In confusion too I The case is plain. You come after Sir John, I suppose? Mar. 1 come after Sir John, madam! LadyR. Guilt in her face ! Yes; after Sir John ; and. Tattle, you are in the plot against me ; you were favouring her escape, were you? Tat. I favour her escape, madam ! What occa- sion for that? This is Mrs. Marmalet, madam, aa acquaintance of mine, madam; as good a kind of body as any at all. Lady R. O, very fine, mistress! you bring your creatures after the vile man, do yon? Mar. I assure you, madam, I am a very honest girl. [that gown? Lady R, 0\ I dare say so. Where did you get Mar, La, ma'am ! I came by it honestly ; my Lady Conquest gav e it to me. I liv e with my Lady Conquest, madam. Lady R. What a complexion she has ! How long have you lived in London? Mar. Three years, madam. Lady R. In London three years with that com- plexion! it can't be: perhaps she is painted: all these creatures paint. You are all so many paint- ed dolls. (Rubs her face with a white handkerchief.') No ; it does not come off. So, Mrs. Tattle, yoa bring your fresh country girls here to my house, do you? Tat. Upon my credit, ma'am — Lady R. Don't tell me ! I see through this af- fair. Go you about your business, mistress, and let me never see you about my doors again. Go, go your ways. Mar. Lord, ma'am, I shan't trouble your house ! Mrs. Tattle, a good day. Here's a deal to do, in- deed! I have as good a house as her's to go to, whatever she may think of herself! [E.vit. Lady R, There, there, there! see there! she goes off in a huff; the way with them all. Ay, I see how it is. Tattle ; you false, ungrateful — that gown was never given her by a woman; she had that from Sir John. Where is Sir John ? Tat. Sir John an't at home, ma'am. Lady R. Where is he ? Where is he gone ? When did he go out? Tat. I really don't know, ma'am. LadyR. Tattle, I know you fib, now; but I'll sift this to the bottom. I'll write to my Lady Con- quest, to know the truth about that girl that was here but now. Tat. You will find I told you truth, ma'am. LadyR. Very well, Mrs. Pert. I'll go and write this moment. Send Robert, to give me an account ofhiamaster. Sir John Sir John, you will distraet me. [^Exeunt. ALL IN THE WRONG. [Act I. Re-enter Belinda and Beverley. Balin. A j ; but that quickness, that extreme sen- sibility, is what I am afraid of. I positively would not have a jealous husband for the world. Bev. By heaven! no earthly circumstance shall ever make me think injuriously of you. Jealousy ! ha, ha! it is the most ridiculous passion, ha, ha? Bdiii. You may laugh, sir; but I know your over-refining temper too well ; and I absolutely will have it in our marriage articles, that I must not be plagued with your suspicions. Bev. I subscribe, ma'am. Belin. I will have no inquiries where I am going to visit; no following me from place to place ', and, if we should chance to meet, and you should per- ceive a man of wit or a pretty fellow speaking to me, I will not have you fidgetting about on your chair, knitting your brow, and looking at your watch — " My dear, is it not time to go home? My love, the coach is waiting:" and then, if you are prevailed upon to stay, I will not have you con- verse with a " Yes, sir," and a " No, sir," for the rest of the evening, and then wrangle with me in the carriage all tlie way home, and not be com- monly civil to me for the rest of the niglit. I po- sitively will have none of this. Bev, Agreed, ma'am, agreed; I subscribe to every thing you can ask. You shall have what fe- male friends you please ; lose your money to whom you please ; dance with what beau you please ; ride out with whom you please; and, in short, do what you please, without my attempting to bribe jour footman or your maid for secret intelligence. Belin. O lud ! Olud! that is in the very strain of jealousy. Deliver me ! there is my father yon- der, and Sir William Bellmont with him. Fly this instant; fly, Mr. Beverley, down that walk — any where. Bev. Yon promise, then — Belin. Don't talk to me now; what would yon be at? I am yours, and only yours — unalterably so. Fly ! be gone! leave me, this moment. Bev. I obey : I am gone. \^Exit. Belin. Now are they putting their wise heads to- gether to thwart all my schemes of happiness ; but love, imperious love, will have it otherwise. Enter BL\tii)FORV and SiR William Bellmont. Bland. Sir William, since we have agreed upon every thing — Sir W. Why, yes, Mr. Blandford, I think every thing is settled. -. Bland. Why, then, we have only to acquaint the young people with our intentions, and so conclude the art'air without delay. Sir W. That is all, sir. Bland. As to my girl, I don't mind her nonsense about Beverley : she must do as I will have her. Sir W. And mj son, too : he must follow my di- rections. As to his telling me of his love for Cla- rissa, it is all a joke with me. Children must do as their parents will have them. Bland. Ay, so they must; and so they shall. Hey! here is my daughter. So, Belinda! Well, jny girl, Sir William and I have agreed, and you are to prepare for marriage, that's all. Belin. With Mr. Beverley, sir? Bland. Mr. Beverley! [sir. Belin. You know, you encouraged him yourself. Bland. Well, well, I have changed my mind on that head. My friend, Sir William, here, offers you his son. Do as I advise you: have a care, Belinda, how you disobey my commands. Bi'Un. But, sir — Bland. But, madam, T must and will be obeyed. You don't like him, you say; but I like Lim, and that's sulhcient for you. Sir W' And so it is, Mr. Blandford. If my son pretended to have a will of his own, I should let him know to the contrary. Belin. And can you, Sir William, against our in- clination, force us both? Bland. Hold your tongue, Belinda; don't pro- voke me. What makes you from home? Go vour ways back directly, and settle your mind. I tell you once for all, I will have my own way. Come, Sir William, we will step to the lawyer's cham- bers. Go home, Belinda, and be observant of my commands, or I'll cut you ofl' with a shilling : I'll see you starve, beg an alms, live miserable, die wretched ; in short, suffer any calamity, without the least compassion from me. If I find you an un- dutiful girl, I cast vou off' for ever. So there's one word for all. [Exit. Sir William follows him. Belin. What will become of me ? his inhumanity overcomes me quite : I can never consent ; the very sight of this picture is enough to forbid it. O, Beverley! you are master of my heart! I'll go this instant; and — heavens ! I can scarce move. I am ready to faint. ^e-en/er Sir John Restless. Sir J. No tidings of her, far or near. Belin. How I tremble ! I shall fail. No help? Sir J. What do I see? ayounglady in distress ! Belin. Oh! {Faints in his arms, and drops the piclure.y Sir J. She is fallen into a fit. Would my ser- vants were in the way ! Lady Restless appears at the window. Lady R. Where can this barbarous man be gone to? How! under my very window ! {Softly.) Sir J. How cold she is ! quite cold! (^Lays his hand on her cheek. ) Lady R. How familiar he is with her! {Softly.) Sir J. And yet she looks beautiful still. Lady R. Does she so? {Softly.) Sir J. Her eyes open : how lovely they look ! Lady R. Trahor [ {Softly.) Sir J. Her cheek begins to colour. Well, young lady, how fare you now, my dear? {Softly.) Lady R. My dear, too ! Belin. Heavens ! where am I ? Sir J. Repose yourself awhile; or will you step into my house? Lady R. No, truly, sha'n't she. "Vile man! I will come down to you directly, and flash confusion in your face. {Softly, and exit from above.) Sir J. Where do you live, madam? [Park. Belin. In Queen's-square, sir, by the side of the Sir J. I will wait upon you ; trust yourself with me. You look much better now; lean on my arm. There, there; I will conduct you. lExeutit, Reenter LADY Restless. Lady R. Now I'll make one among ye. How ! fled! gone! which way? Is not that he, yonder? No ; he went into my house, I dare say, as I came downstairs. Tattle! Tattle! Robert! Will no- body answer? Re-enter Tattle. Where is Sir John? Tat. La, ma'am ! how should I know? Lady R. Did not he go in this moment? Tat. No, ma'am. Lady R. To be sure, you will say so. I'll follow him through the world, or I'll find him out. So, so ! what is here? Tliis is her picture, I suppose. I will make sure of this at least ; this will discover her to me, though she has escaped me now. Cruel, false, deceitful man ! [Exit. Tat. Poor lady ! I believe her head is turned, for my part. Well, I am determined I'll look out for another place, that's a sure thing, I will. [Exit. Act II. Scene 1.] ALL IN THE WRONG. ACT II. Scene I. — Sir John Restless's House. Enter SIR JoHN RESTLESS and ROBERT. Sirf. Robert, wliere is your lady 1 Rob. In her own room, sir. jS^iV .7^. Any body with her? Rob. I cau't say, sir ; my lady is not well, Sir J. Not well! fatigued with rioting about this town, I suppose. How long has she been at home ? Rob. About an hour, sir. Sir J. About an hour! Very well, Robert; you may retire. lExit Robert.'] Now will I question her closely. So, so, so ;-she comes, leaning on her maid. Finely dissembled! finely dissembled! But this pretended illness shall not shelter her from my strict inquiry. Soft a moment : If I could overhear what passes between them, it might lead to the truth. I'll work by stratagem. The hypocrite! how she acts her part ! \^Exit. Enter Lady RESTLESS a«rf Tattle. Tat. How are you now, madam ? Lady R. Somewhat better, Tattle. Reach that chair. Tattle, tell me honestly ; does that girl live with Lady Conquest? Tat. She does, madam, upon my veracity. Lady R. Very well , you will be obstinate, I see ; but I shall know the truth presently. I shall have an answer from her ladyship, and then all will come out. Tat. Your will hear nothing, ma'am, but what I Lave told you already. Lady R. Tattle, Tattle, I took yon up in the country, in hopes gratitude would make you my friend; but you are as bad as the rest of them. Conceal all you know ; it is of very little conse- quence. I now see through the whole affair. Though it is the picture of a man, yet I am not to be deceived: I understand it all. This is some former gallant: the creature gave this to Sir John, asa proof that she had no afl'ection for any one but himself. What art he must have had to induce her to this ! I have found him out at last. Sir J. (Peeps in.) What does she say! (Aside.) LadijR. I have seen enough to convince me what kind of man he is. The fate of us poor women is bard : we all wish for husbands, and they are the torment of our lives. Tat. There is too much truth in what you say, ma'am. Sir J. You join her, do you, Mrs. Iniquity? (Aside.)' LadyR. Cruel laws of wedlock! The tyrant hus- band may triumph, in his infidelity. He may se- curely trample upon all laws of decency and order : it redounds to his credit, gives him a fashionable air of vice ; while a poor woman is obliged to sub- mit to his cruelty, She remains tied to him for life, even though she has reason to entertain a mortal hatred for him. Sir J. Oh ! very well argued, madam. (Aside.) Lady R. What a pity it is. Tattle, that we can- not change our husbands as we do our ear-rings, or our gloves ! Sir J. There is a woman of spirit! (Aside.) Lady R. Tattle, will you own the truth to me about that girl ? Tat. I really have told you the truth, madam. Lady R. You won't discover, I see : very well ; you may go down stairs. Tat. I assure your ladyship — • Lady R. Go down stairs. Tat. Yes, ma'am. [Exit. Lady R, Would I had never seen my husband's face! Sir J. I am even with you: I have as good wishes for you, I assure you. (Aside.) Lady R. This picture here I Oh, the base man ! Sir J. The picture of her gallant, I suppose. (Aside.) Lady R. This is really a handsome picture : what a charming countenance ! it is perfumed, I fancy : the scent is agreeable. Sir J. The jade ! how eagerly she kisses it ! (Aside.) Lady R. Why had I not such a dear, dear man, instead of the brute, the monster — Sir J. Monster! She does not mince the matter : plain, downright English ! I must contain my rage, and steal upon her meditations. So — so — so — (Aside.) Re-enter Sir John Restless, on tiptoe. Lady R. There is no falsehood in this look. Sir J. (Looks over her shoulder.) Oh! what a handsome dog she has chosen for herself! (Aside.) Lady R. With you I could be for ever happy. Sir J. You could, could you? (Snatches the jiirture. ) Lady R. (Screams.) Mercy on me! Oh! is it you, sir? Sir J. Now, madam ; now, f^lse one, have I caught you? Lady R. You are come home at last, I find, sir. Sir J. My Lady Restless, my Lady Restless, what can you say for yourself now ; Lady R. What can I say for myself, Sir John? Sir J. Ay, madam ; this picture — Lady R. Yes, sir, that picture ! Sir J. Will be evidence — Lady R. Of your shame. Sir John. Sir J. Of my shame! 'tis very true what she says. (Aside.) Yes, madam, it will be an evi- dence of my shame ; I feel that but too sensibly. But on your part — Lady R. You own it then, do you"! Sirf. Own it! I must own it, madam; though confusion cover me, I must own it : it is what yoti have deserved at my hands. Lady R. I deserved it. Sir John ! find excuses, if you will. Cruel, cruel man! to make me this return at last ! I cannot bear it. Oh! oh! (Cries.) Such black injustice! Sir J. You may weep ; but your tears are lost : they fall without effect. I now renounce yon for ever. This picture will justify me to the wide world; it will shew what a base woman you have been. Lady R. What does the man mean? Sir J. Thepictureof your gallant, madam. "It's a pity," you know, madam, "that a woman should be tied to a man for life, even though she has a mor- tal hatred to him." Lady R. Artful hypocrite ! Sir J. "That she can't change her husband as she does her ear-rings, or her gloves. Had such a dear, dear man fallen to my lot, instead of the brute, the monster" — Am I a monster"? I am, and you have made me so. The world shall know your infamy. Lady R. Oh ! brave it out, sir ; brave it out to the last. Harmless, innocent man! you have no- thing to blush for, nothing to be ashamed of: yoa have no intrigues, no private amours abroad. I have not seen any thing, not I. Sir J. Madam, 1 have seen, and I now see,yoBr paramour. Lady R. That air of confidence will be of great use to you, sir. You have no convenient to meet you under my very window, to loll softly in your arms 1 Sir J. Hey! how? Lady R. Her arm thrown carelessly round your neck : your hand tenderly applied to her cheek. Sir J. 'Sdeath ! that's unlucky : she will turq it against me. (Aside.) ALL IN THE WRONG. [Act II. LadyR. Yon are n confusion, are you, sir? But why should you"? You meant no harm — " You are safe with me, my dear. Will you step into my house, my love?" Yes, sir, you would fain bring her into my very house. Sir J. My Lady Restless, this evasion is mean and paltry. You beheld a lady in distress. LadyR. Oh! I know it, sir; and you, tender- hearted man, could caress her out of mere compas- sion ! yon could gaze wantonly out of charity ; from pure benevolence of disposition, you would convey her to some convenient dwelling. O, Sir John, Sir John! Sir J. Madam, this well-acted passion — Lady R. Don't imagine she has escaped me, sir. Sir J. Yon may talk and rave, ma'am, but I will find, by means of this instrument here in my hand, who your darling is. I will go about it straight. Ungrateful, treacherous woman ! \^Exit. Lady R- Yes ; go under that pretext, in pursuit of your licentious pleasures. This ever has been his scheme to cloke his wicked practices. Aban- doned man! to face me down, too, after what my eyes so plainly beheld! I wish I could wring that secret out of Tattle. I'll step to my own room di- rectly, and try by menaces, by wheedling, by fair means, by foul means, by every means, to wrest it from her. \^Exit. Scene Il.—The Park. Enter Sir 3oHJi Restless, /oZtocerf by Robert. Sir J. Come hither, Robert. Look at this pic- ture. Rob. Yes, sir. Sir J. Let me watch his countenance. {Aside.) Well, well! dost thou know it, Robert? Rob. 'Tis a mighty handsome picture, sir. Sir J. A handsome picture ! {Aside.) Rob. The finest lady in the land need not desire a handsomer man, sir. Sir J. How well he knows the purposes of it! (Aside.) Well, well! honest Robert, tell me : wellj who is it ? tell me. Rob. Sir! Sir J. You know whose picture it is ; I know you do. Well, well ; who — who — who is it? Rob, Upon my word, sir, it is more than I can tell. Sir J. Not know ! I am convinced you do ; so own the truth : don't be a villain, don't. Rob. As I am an honest man, sir — Sir J. Be an honest man then, and tell me. Did you never see such a smooth-faced, fiery-eyed, warm-complexioned, taper young fellow, here about my house 1 Rob, Never, sir. Sir J, Not with my wife? to drink chocolate of a morning, tea of an evening? Come, honest Ro- bert, I'll give you a lease of a good farm. What say you? A I ease for your life 'f Well, well ! you may take your wife's life into the bargain. Well ! Rob. Believe me. Sir John, I never saw — Sir J. I'll add your child's life. Come, speak out. Your own life, your wife's life, and your child's! Now, now! a lease for three lives! Now, Robert. Rob. As I hope for mercy, I never saw any such a gentleman. Sir J, Robert, Robert, youarebribedbymy wife. Rob. No, as I am a sinner, sir. Sir J. And the worst of sinners you will be, if you are a confederate in this plot against my peace and honour. Reflect on that, Robert, Enter a Footman. Foot. Pray, does not Sir John Restless live somewhere hereabout? [with him? Sir J. He does, friend; what is your business Foot. My business is with his lady. Sir J. I guessed as much. (Aside.) Foot. I have a letter here for my Lady Restless, sir. Sir J. A letter for my lady ! ftom whom, pray? Foot. From my Lord Conquest. Sir J. My Lord Conquest! Very well, friend: you may give the letter to me. I am Sir John Restless; there is my house. Let me have the letter : I will take care of it. [own hand. Foot. I was ordered to deliver it into my lady's >S'(V /. The devil you was ! I must have the letter; I'll buy it of the rascal. (Aside.) Here, take this for your trouble, friend ; (giveshim money) and I'll take care of the letter. Foot. I humbly thank your honour. [Exit. Sir J. Now, now, now; let me see what this is. Now, my Lady Restless ; now, false one, now ! — (Reads.) "Madam, My Lady Conquest being gone into the country for a few days, J have judged it proper to send a speedy ansiver to your's, and to assure you, for your peace of mind, that you need not enter- tain the least sv^icion of Marmalet, my lady's ico- man. She has lived some years in my family, and J know her by experience to be an honest, trusty girl, incapable of making mischief betiveen your ladyship and Sir John. I have the honour to be, madam, your very humble servant. Conquest." So, so, so I Marmalet is a trusty girl ! one that wili-pot make mischief between man and wife! that is to say, she will discover nothing against my Lady Restless! for her peace of mind he lets madam know all this too ! She may go on boldly now ; my Lady Con- quest is gone into the country, Marmalet is trusty, and my lord has given her the most speedy notice. Very well, very well ! proofs thicken upon proofs. Shall I go directly and challenge his lordship? No, no, that won't do. Watch him closely, that will do better. If I could have a word in private with the maid : Robert, Robert, come hither. Step to my Lord Conquest's, but with caution proceed, inquire there for Marmalet, the maid. Rob. I know her, sir. Sir J. He knows her! (Aside.) Rob. She visits our Tattle, sir. Sir J. Visits our Tattle! it is a plain case. (Aside.) Inquire for that girl, but with caution : tell her to meet me privately, unknown to anybody, in the dusk of the evening in the Birdcage-walk Rob. I will, sir. [yonder. Sir J. And don't let Tattle see her. Tattle has engaged her in her mistress's interest. I see how it is. Don't let any of my servants see her: go, directly, Robert. Now shall I judge what regard you have for me. But, harkye ! come hither ! a word with you. Should it be known that this girl converses with me ; should my lady have the least item of it, they will be upon their guard. Let her come wrapped up in darkness; concealed from every observer, with a mask on. Ay ! let it be with a mask. Rob. A mask. Sir John? Won't that make her be remarked the more? Sir J . No, no, let her come masked ; I will make every thing sure. Robert, bring this about for me, and I am your friend for ever. Rob. t will do my endeavour, sir. [Exit. Sir J. I'll now take a turn round the Park, and try if I can find the minion this picture belongs to. [Exit. Enter Beverley and Bellmont. Bev. Yes, they had almost surprised us ; but at sight of her father, Belinda gave the word, and away I darted down towards the canal. Bell. Was Sir William with him? Bev. Yes ; they had been plotting our ruin. But we shall out-oflicer them, it is to be hoped. Bell. Yes ; and it is also to be feared that we shall not. Bev. Hey ! you alarm me; no new mine sprung! Bell. Nothing but the old story. Our wise fathers Scene 2.] ALL IN THE WRONG. are determined. At the tumiiig of yoinJer corner, (hey caiiie both full tilt upon Clarissa and me. Jiev. Well ! and how— what passed? Bell. Why, they were scarcely civil to your sister. Sir VVilliam fixed his Kurly eye upon me for some time ; at last he began, " You will run counter to my will, I see ; you will be ever dang- ling after that girl: but Mr. Blandford and t have agreed upon the match ;" and then he peremptorily commanded me to take my leave of Clarissa, and fix my heart upon your Belinda. Bev. And did you so ? Bell. And did I so! How can you ask such a question? "Sir," says I, "I must see the lady home ;" and off I marched, arm in arm with her, my father bawling after me, and I bowing to him, *' Sir, your humble Servant, I wish you a good morning, sir." He continued calling out; I kissed my hand to him ; and so we made our escape. Bev. And where have you left Clarissa ? Bell. At home ; at your houses. Bev, Well, and do you both continue in the same mind? is to-morrow to be your wedding-day? Bell. Now are you conjuring up a thousand liorrid fancies to torment yourself. But don't be alarmed, my dear Beverley, I shall leave you your Belinda, and content myself with the honour of being your brother-in-law. Bev. Sir, the honour will be to me — but, uneasy ! ha, ha ! no, no ; I am not uneasy ; nor shall I ever be so again. Bell. Keep that resolution, if you can. Do you dine with us at the club? Bev. With all my heart: I'll attend you. Bdl. That's right ; let ns turn towards the Mall, and saunter there till dinner. Bev. No, I can't go that way yet. I must inquire Low Belinda does, and what her father said to her. I have not seen her since we parted in the morning. Bell. And now, according to custom, you will make her an apology, for leaving her, when there was an absolute necessity for it; and you'll fall to an explanation of circumstances, that require no explanation at all, and refine upon things, and tor- ment yourself and her into the bargain. Bev. Nay, if j'ou begin with your raillery, I am oft': your servant; a Vhonneur, [Exit. Bell. Poor Beverley ! Though a handsome fellow, and of some agreeable talents, he has such a strange diffidence in himself, and such a solicitude to please, that he is every moment of his life most ingeniously elaborating his own uneasiness. Re-enter Sir John Restless. Sir J. Not yet, not yet; nobody like it as yet. Ha ! who is that hovering about my house '! If that should be he now ! I'll examine him nearer. {Aside.) Pray, sir — What the devil .shall I say? {Aside.) — Pray, sir— Bell. Sir? Sir J. I beg pardon for troubling you, sir 5 but, pray, what o'clock is it by your watch 1 Bell. By my watch, sir"! I'll let you know in a moment. Sir J. Let me examine him now. {Aside. Looks at him, and then at the picture.) Bell. Egad ! I am afraid my watch is not right : it must be later. {Looking at his ivatch.) Sir J. It is not like him. {Aside. Comparing the picture.) Bell. It does not go, lam afraid. {Puis it to his ear.) Sir J. The eye— No ! {Aside. ) Bell. Well, sir, by my watch it wants a quarter of three. Sir J. It is not he ; and, yet — no, no, no, T am still to seek. {Aside.) Re-enter Beverley. Bev, Bellraont! another word with you. Sir J. Here comes another; they are all swarm- ing about my house. {Aside.) Bev. I have seen her; I have seen Belinda, my boy : she will be with Clarissa, in the Park, imme- diately after dinner, you rogue. Sir J. I want to see his face; this may be the original. {Aside.) Bev. Her father has been rating her in his usual manner ; but your marriage with my sister will settle every thing. Sir J. I'll walk round him. {Aside.) Loll, toll, loll. {Sings.) Ha! it has his air. {Aside. Looks at him.) Loll, toll, loll : {sings) and it has his eye. {Aside.) Loll, toll, loll. {Sings. Walks to and fro.) Bev. Pr'ythee, Bellmont, don't be such a dang- ling lover, but marry at once, for the sake of your friend. Sir J, It has his nose for all the world. {Aside.) Bell. Do you spirit your sister up to keep her resolution, and to-morrow puts you out of all jjain. Sir J. Loll, toll, loll — it has his complexion; the same glowing, hot, amorous complexion. {Aside* Sinys, and looks uneasy.) Bev. Who is this gentleman! Bell. An odd fellow he seems to be. Sir J. Loll, toll, loll — it has his shoulders. LoH, toll, loll — ay ! and I fancy the mole upon the cheek, too. Loll, toll, loll. [keepers? Bev. He seems mad, I think. Where are his Sir J. Begging your pardon, sir; pray, {looking at him and the picture) pray, sir, can you tell whe- ther we shall have a Spanish war? Bev. Not I, truly, sir. Here is a politician out of his senses. {To Bellmont.) Bell. He has been talking to me too. Sir J. He has the mole, sure enough. (^Aside.) Bev. Let us step this way, to avoid this imper- tinent blockhead. Sir J. Ay ! he wants to sneak off. Guilt, guilt! conscious guilt! I'll make sure of him. {Aside.) Pray, sir — I beg your pardon, is not your name Wildair? Bev. No, sir; Beverley, at your service. Sir J. Have you no relation of that name? Bev. None. Sir J. You are very like a gentleman of that name, a friend of mine, whose picture I have here. Will you give me leave just to — {Compares him with the picture. ) Bev, An odd adventure this, Bellmont ! Bell. Very odd, indeed. Bev. Do you find any likeness, sir? Sir J. Your head a little more that way, if you please. Ay, ay, it is he ! Yes, a plain case : this is my man, or, rather, this is my wife's man. {Aside.) Bev. Did you ever know anything so whimsical? Bell. Never. Ha, ha, ha! ^(V J. They are both laughing at me. Ay, and I shall be laughed at by the whole town, pointed at, hooted at, and gazed at ! {Aside.) Bev, What do 1 see? 'Sdeath! the setting of that picture is like what I gave to Belinda. Dis- traction! if it is the same— {Drawing near Sir J.) Sir J. He makes his approach, and means, I suppose, to snatch it out of my hand. But I'll pre- vent him ; and so, into my pocket it goes. There, lie safe there. {Aside.) Bev. Confusion ! he puts it up in a hurry. Will you be so good, sir, as to favour me with a — Sir J. .'•"ir, I wish you a good day. Bev. With a sight of that picture for a moment? Sir J. The picture, sir ! Pho! a mere daub. Bev. A motive of curiosity, sir. Sir J. It is not worth your seeing. I wish you a good day. Bell. I shall take it as a favour. Sir J. A paltry thing ! I have not a moment to spare ; my family is waiting dinner. Sir, I wish you a groi morning. {Runs into the house.) ALL IN THE WRONG, [Act III. Jhv. Death and fire ! Bellmout, ray picture ! Jiell. O, no ; no such thing. 