my house: don't you betray me too: „don't attempt to justify her.

Rob. Dear sir, if you will but give me leave: you have been an indulgent master to me, and I am only concerned for your welfare. You married my lady 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 their symmetry, as that expression of sweetness, that smile that indicated affability, modesty, and compliance. But, honest Robert, I was deceived; I was not a month married, 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!

Rob. 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 showing 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 jealous 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 show her guilt the more.

Rob. 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 but too true that she is still near my heart. Oh! Robert, Robert, when I have watched her at a play, ' or elsewhere; when I have counted her oglings, and her whisperings, her stolen glances, and her artful leer, with the cunning of her sex, she has pretended to be as watchful of me: dissembling, false, deceitful woman! Rob. And yet, I dare assure you

Sir J. No more; I am not to be deceived; I know her thoroughly, and now-now-has she not escaped out of my house, even now?

Rob. But with no bad design.

Sir J. I am the best judge of that: which way did she go?

Rob. Across the Park, sir; that way, towards the Horse-Guards.

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, R. Sir J. (R.) Gone towards the Horse-Guards; my head aches; my forehead burns; I am cutting my horns. Gone towards the Horse-Guards! (c.) 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, L.

Enter BEVERLEY and BELLMONT, at opposite sides. Bev. (c.) Ha! my dear Bellmont! A fellow sufferer in love is a companion well met.

Bell. (c.) 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 amorous 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- -[Lays his hand on BELLMONT'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! her eyes so

Bev. Pr'ythee, truce; I have not leisure to attend to her praise: a sister's praise too! the greatest merit I ever could see in Clarissa is, that she loves you freely and sincerely.

Bell. And to be even with you, sir, your Belinda, upon my soul, notwithstanding all your lavish praises, her highest perfection, in my mind, is her sensibility to the merit of my friend.

Bev. Oh, Belmont ! such a girl! But tell me honestly now, do you think she has ever betrayed the least regard for me?

Bell. How can you, 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 fix 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 conjecturing about something to come, and are your own self-tormentor.

Bev. No, no, no; don't be so severe: I hate the very notion of such a temper: the thing 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 willing to give her in marriage to me.

Bev. The senseless old dotard!

Bell. Thank you for the compliment! and my father, 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 compliance from their children; so that, according to their wise heads, I am to be married off-hand to Belinda, and you and your sister, poor Clarissa, are to be left to shift for yourselves.

Bev. 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 affair with Clarissa.

Bev. Have you?

Bell. I have; and to-morrow morning makes me possessor of her charms.

Bev. My dear boy, give us your hand: and then, thou 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, L.

Bev. (L. c) Grace was in all her steps; heav'n in her eye;

In ev'ry gesture dignity and love.

Belin. (L.) 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, Waller, Lands

down, and all our dealers in love verses, give but a faint Image of a heart touched like mine.

Belin. Poor gentleman! what a terrible taking you are in! But if the sonnetteers cannot give an image of you, sir, have you had recourse to a painter, as you promised me?

Bev. I have, Belinda, and here-here is the humble portrait of your adorer.

Belin. [Takes the Picture.] Well! there is a likeness; but, after all, there is a better painter than this gentleman, whoever he be.

Bev. A better !-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. (R.) [Who had been talking apart with CLARISSA, R.] 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. (R. C.) Yes; but we are but in a kind of fool's paradise here: all our schemes are but mere castlebuilding, which your father, Mr. Bellmont, and, my dear Belinda-yours too, are most obstinately determined 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 another partner better.

Bev. And without considering that I, forlorn as I am, and my sister, there-who is as well inclined to a matri monial 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 inclinations to mingle in the group.

C

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 themselves: they are only fit company for each other, 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 shan't lose one another.

[Exeunt BELLMONT and CLARISSA, R. Bev. My sister is generously in love with Bellmont: I wish Belinda would act as openly towards me. [Aside. Belin. Well, sir!-Thoughtful! I'll call Mr. Bellmont back, if that's the case.

Bev. She will call him back.

[Aside.

Belin. (R.) Am I to entertain you, or you me?
Bev. (c.) 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 you?

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 was 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 resentment you directed all your discourse to Mr. Bellmont.

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 offence too lightly.

Belin. Ha, ha! What have you taken into your head now? You create for yourself imaginary misunderstandings, and then are ever entering into explanations. But this watching for intelligence from the spies and misrepresenters of conversation, betrays strong symp