The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor

Charles. You couldn’t?

Tiffany. No, sir – and I’m sure she’s quite altered and melancholy gone since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you – (Helen comes forward gently.)

Charles. My dear Tiffany! – let me catch the sounds from your rosy lips. (Kisses her) —

Helen. (separating them) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business here!

Charles. I – I – I – Upon my soul, Madam – what you saw was —

Tiffany. Ye – ye – yes – upon my word, ma’am – what you saw was —

Helen. What I saw was very clear indeed! —

Charles. Hear me but explain – you do not understand. —

Helen. I rather think I do understand.

Tiffany. Indeed, Ma’am, Mr. Charles was only whispering something I was to tell you —

Helen. And pray, ma’am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper in that fashion? – what do you stand stammering and blushing there for? – why don’t you go?

Tiffany. Yes, ma’am, – but I assure you —

Helen. What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose. [Exit Tiffany.

Charles. Let me explain this, – oh, Helen – can you be surprised?

Helen. No, sir, I can’t be surprised at any thing after what I have just witnessed —

Charles. On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov’d me, that led me into this confounded scrape.

Helen. Sir, you should not believe it – I don’t love you. I wont love you, – and after what I have just seen, you can’t expect I should love you —

Charles. Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear but very little more —

Helen. Poor man! you’re sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn animal, having more than you can bear, you’ll kick a little, and plunge a little, and then down on your knees again!

Charles. I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to believe you loved me.

Helen. ’Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor ought to forgive you – for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to you.

Charles. Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause? surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my fond affection?

Helen. No! to be sure I couldn’t, who could! – but what should I not have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented – to run away with you?

Charles. Run away with me! – no! – zounds I’ve a chaise in waiting —

Helen. Have you? – then pray let it wait, – no! no! Charles – though I haven’t scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect for the world’s opinion, – let us wait with patience, – time may rectify that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as by the more gradual poison of neglect.

Charles. Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart – ’tis a rough soil I own, but ’tis a warm one; and when the hand of delicacy shall have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be everlasting love!

Helen. Ah you men! – you men! but – I think I may be induced to try you. – Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart, and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (he kisses her hand.) There you needn’t eat it – there! – now make your escape, and farewell till we meet again. – (They are going out severally)

Enter sir Rowland and sir Willoughby, at opposite sides

Charles. Zounds! my father!

Helen. Gad-a-mercy! my papa!

Sir R. So, sir! you are here again I find!

Sir W. So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant.

Sir R. I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy’s conduct does not meet with my sanction.

Char. No! sir Willoughby – I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets with my father’s sanction.

Sir W. Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we do like, and certain things that we do not like – now sir, to cut the matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either your son or your nephew for her husband.

Sir R. This is a very sudden change, sir Willoughby —

Sir W. Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to day! – I’ve changed my resolution – I feel changed myself – for I’ve changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my son-in-law.

Sir R. Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the last of these changes.

Sir W. Sir, if you’ll meet me presently at your attorney’s, the thing will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please – Charles, I believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow for a son-in-law – but I think it is rather too much to give twelve thousand a year for him – this way Miss Helen. [Exit sir Willoughby and Helen.

Sir R. This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more exasperate him – I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is at hand; my own heart is witness against me – Heaven is my judge, and I have deserved my punishment! [Exit sir R.

Char. So! I’m much mistaken, or there’ll be a glorious bustle presently at the old lawyer’s – He has sent to beg I’ll attend, and as my heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I’ll e’en see what’s going forward in that– whether his intention be to expose or to abet a villain, still I’ll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares to lift his unblushing head on the other. [Exit.

SCENE II. – O’Dedimus’s Office

Enter O’Dedimus and Ponder

O’Ded. You’ve done the business, you say!

Pon. Ay, and the parties will all be here presently.

O’Ded. That’s it! you’re sure you haven’t blabbed now?

Pon. Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for?

O’Ded. What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that will never be choked by politeness.

Pon. Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for though they say “honesty’s the best policy” a lawyer generally finds his purpose better answered by a Policy of Assurance.

O’Ded. But hark! somebody’s coming already, step where I told you, and make haste.