Sir J. No; I am ruined if you go that way.Hell and distraction! My Lady Restless coming down! Here, madam, here; into that chair. You will be concealed there; nobody will suspect you. Belin. Anywhere, sir; put me anywhere, to avoid this impending storm. (Goes into the chair.) Sir J. (Shutting the chair.) This is lucky. I am Let my lady come as soon as she will. Re-enter LADY RESTLESS. Lady R. I only wanted to say one word, sir. Enter BLANDford. safe now. Bland. Sir John, I am obliged to intrude; I am told my daughter is here. Lady R. There; he has heard it all. Bland. I have heard that Belinda came to your house, on what business I do not know. I hope, Sir John, that you do not harbour the girl, to disturb the peace and happiness of a father. Sir J. That imputation, sirLady R. He does harbour her. Sir J. Mr. Blandford, I give you my honourLady R. I know he does. He has ruined your daughter; he has injured you, sir, as well as me, in the most essential point. Sir J. She raves; she is mad. If you listen to her Enter SIR WILLIAM BLANDFORD and BEVERLEY, Sir J. And more than I expected. There, madam, there is your favourite again. Bev. My visit is public, sir. I come to demand, in the presence of this company, an explanation of the mischief you have done me. Sir J. You need not be so public, sir. The closet is ready for you; Tattle will turn the key, and you will there be very safe. Lady R. How can you persist in such a fallacy? He knows, he perfectly well knows, it was an accident; a mere blunder of the servant, entirely unknown to me. do justice to Belinda's character. She may treat me with the caprice and pride of insolent beauty; but her virtue claims respect. Sir J. There now; there, that is the whole of the story. Lady R. The whole of the story! No, Sir John; you shall suppress nothing; you could receive a picture from her, Sir J. You, madam, could receive a picture; and you, Mr. Beverley, could present it. Lady R. Mr. Beverley, you hear this. Bev. I can justify you, madam. I gave your lady no picture, Sir John. Sir J. She had it in her hand. I saw her print her kisses on it, and in that moment I seized it from her. Bev. Belinda dropped it in the Park, when she was taken ill; I had just given it to her. Your lady found it there. Lady R. I found it on that very spot. Bev. There, sir; she found it." Sir J. I found you locked up in her cabinet; concealed in private. Lady R. But with no bad intent. Bev. Your jealousy, Sir John, has fixed an imputation upon me, who have not deserved it; and ing mildew, upon a lady, whose name was never your suspicions, madam, have fallen, like a blastbefore sullied by the breath of calumny. Sir W. The affair is clear, as to your daughter, Mr. Blandford. I am satisfied, and now we need not intrude any longer upon this family. Walk in, George; every thing is right; your fears Enter BELLMONT and CLARISSA. may now go to rest. Lady R. I shall not stay another night in this house. Time will explain everything. Call my chairmen, there. Sir John has it his own way at present. You have settled this among yourselves. I shall now go to my brother. Sir John, I have no more to say at present. Sir J. You shall not go; you shall not quit this Sir J. She was privy to the whole. Bland. This is beside my purpose. I came hi-house till I consent. ther in quest of my daughter; a father demands her. Is she here? Is she in the house? Sir J. In this house, sir? Our families never visited. I am not acquainted with her. Lady R. He is acquainted with her; I saw him clasp her in his arms. [all. Bland. In his arms! When? Where? Tell me Lady R. Yes, and now let him give an account of himself. Sir J. When you have accounted for your actions, madam[sir. Lady R. Render an account to the lady's father, Bland. Yes, to her father. Account with me, sir. When and where was all this? Lady R. This very day, at noon, in the Park. Bev. But in the eyes of the whole world; I know Belinda; I can acquit her. Sir J. And I proclaim her innocence. We can both acquit her. (Goes up to Bev.) Lady R. You are both in a plot; both combined. Sir J. It was all harmless; all inoffensive. Was not it, Mr. Beverley? Bev. Yes, all, all. Lady R. All guilt, manifest, downright guilt. Sir W. If you all talk together, we shall never understand. Ber. I understand it all. Mr. Blandford, you met Belinda in the Park this morning? Bland. I did, sir. Bev. You accosted her violently; the harshness of your language overpowered her spirits; she was ready to faint; Sir John was passing by; she was going to drop down; Sir John assisted her; that is the whole of the story. Injured as I am, I must Lady R. Very well, sir; I must be your prisoner, must I? Sir J. It is mine to command here. No loose escapes this night, no assignations, no intrigues to disgrace me. Lady R. Such inhuman treatment; I am glad there are witnesses of your behaviour. (Walks away.) Bland. I am sorry to see all this confusion; but since my daughter is not here [find. Lady R. He knows where she is, and so you will Sir J. (Coming forward.) Your daughter is innocent, sir, I give you my honour. Where should she be in this house? Lady Restless has occasioned all this mischief. She formed a story to palliate her own misconduct. To her various artifices you are a stranger; but in a few days you may depeud that I have full proof, and in a little time everything will BELINDA comes out of the chair. Lady R. Who has proof now? There, there! in his house all the time. Bland. What do I see? Bev. Belinda here! Sir W. So, so; there is something in it, I see. Sir J. Distraction! this is unlucky. (Aside.) Lady R. What say you now, Mr. Beverley? Now, Mr. Blandford, there; ocular demonstration for you. Sir W. George, take Clarissa as soon as you will. Mr. Blandford, you will excuse me, if I now decline any further treaty with you. Bland. This abrupt behaviour, Sir William- Clarissa, you have my approbation; my son is at your service. Here, George, take her and be happy. Bell. (Taking her hand.) To you, from this moment, I dedicate all my future days. Bland. Very well; take your own way. I cán still protect my daughter. Bev. And she deserves your protection. My dear Belinda, explain all this; I know it is in your power. Bev. My life! my angel! (Kissing her hand.) Do you forgive me? Belin. No; I hate you. (Looks pleased at him.) Bev. Now, I don't believe that. (Kisses her cheek.) Do you hate me, Belinda? Belin. How could you let an extravagance of temper get the better of you? You know the sincerity of my affection. Oh, Mr. Beverley, was it not ungenerous? Belin. This generous behaviour, sir, recalls me Bev. It was; I own it; on my knees I own it. to new life. You, I am now convinced, have Belin. (Laughing.) Oh! proud man, have I been accused by my Lady Restless without found- humbled you? Since you submit to my will and ation. Whatever turn her ladyship's unhappy self-pleasure, I think I can forgive you. Beg my pictormenting fancy may give to my conduct, it may ture back this moment. (Shews it to him.) provoke a smile, but will excite no other passion. Lady R. Mighty fine! what brought you to this house! Belin. To be a witness of your folly, madam, and Sir John's into the bargain. Bell. That I can vouch; Sir John can fill his mind with vain chimeras, with as apt a disposition as his lady. Beverley has been represented in the falsest colours. Lady R. That I admit; Sir John invented the story. Bev. And Belinda, madam, has been cruelly slandered by you. Sir J. She has so; that I admit. Belin. And my desire to see all this cleared up, brought me to this house, madam. Now you see what has made this confusion. Lady R. O, I expected these airs. You may discuss the point where you please; I will hear no more upon the subject. [Exit. Bland. Madam, the subject must be settled. [Follows her. Sir J. You have a right to insist upon it, the whole shall be explained this moment. Sir William, you are a dispassionate man, give us your assistance. [Exit. Sir W. With all my heart. George, you are no longer concerned in this business, and I am glad [Exit with Bellmont. Cla. (To Beverley.) Now, brother, now is your time; your difficulties are all removed. Sir John suspected you without reason; my Lady Restless did the same to Belinda; you are both in love, and now may do each other justice. I can satisfy my Lady Restless and your father. of it. [Exit. Bev. I see, I see my rashness. (Aside.) Bev. (Taking the picture.) I shall adore it for ever, and heal this breach with uninterrupted love. Re-enter SIR JOHN RESTLESS, LADY RESTLESS, SIR WILLIAM BLANDFORD, BLANDFORD, BELLMONT, and CLARISSA. I Sir J. (Laughing.) Why, yes; it is very clear. can now laugh at my own folly, and my wife's too. Lady R. There has been something of a mistake, I believe. Bev. You see, Sir John, what your suspicions are come to. I never was within your doors before this day; nor should I, perhaps, have had the for the misunderstanding your mutual jealousies ochonour of speaking to your lady, had it not been casioned between Belinda and me. Bland. And your ladyship has been ingenions enough to work out of those whimsical circumstances a charge against my daughter. Ha, ha! Sir J. It is ever her way, sir. I told you, my dear, that you would make yourself very ridiculous. Lady R. I fancy, sir, you have not been behindhand with me. Ha, ha, ha! Sir W. And now, Mr. Blandford, I think we may as well let the match go on as we at first intended. Bland. No, no more of that; you have disposed of your son. Belinda, I no longer oppose your inclinations, take Mr. Beverley as soon as you will. Sir J. Now let us see; if she agrees to marry him, why then she knows he is innocent, and I shall be satisfied. (Aside.) Belin. If you insist upon it, sir. Lady R. If Beverley accepts of her, all my suspicions are at an end. (Aside.) Bev. Thus let me take the bright reward of all my wishes. (Takes her hand.) Belin. Since it is over, you have used your auIthority, sir, to make me happy indeed. We have both seen our error, and frankly confess we have Bev. What apology can I make her? (Aside.) Belinda! Belin. Charming! he begins. (Aside, and smiling.) Bevs (Approaching) Belinda! No answer. linda! Be Belin. Mr. Beverley. (Smiles aside.) Bev. Don't you think you have been very cruel to me, Belinda? (Advancing towards her.) Belin. Don't you think you have been barbarous to me? (Without looking at him.) Bev. I have; I grant it. Can you find in your heart to forgive me? Belin. (Without looking at him.) You have kept me on the rack this whole day, and can you wonder that I feel myself unhappy? Bev. I am to blame; I acknowledge it. If you knew how my own heart reproaches me, you would spare yourself the trouble. With tears in my I now speak to you; I acknowledge all my eyes errors. Belin. (Looking at him.) Those are not tears, Bev. They are; you see that they are. both been in the wrong too. Sir W. Why, we have been all in the wrong, I think. Sir J. It has been a day of mistakes, but of fortunate ones, conducing at last to the advantage of all parties. My Lady Restless will now be taughtLady R. Sir John, I hope you will be taught Bland. Never mention what is past. The wrang ling of married people, about unlucky questions that break out between them, is like the lashing of a top; it only serves to keep it up the longer. Sir J. Very true; and since we have been ALL endeavour to be ALL IN THE RIGHT. IN THE WRONG to-day, we will, for the future, Bev. A fair proposal, Sir John; we will make it our business, both you who are married, and we who are now entering into that state, by mutual confidence to ensure mutual happiness. The god of love thinks we profane his fire, AN OPERA, IN TWO ACTS.-BY MRS. BROOKE. ACT I.-SCENE I.-A Cottage. DORCAS, seated on a bench, is spinning; ROSINA and PHŒBE are measuring corn; WILLIAM enters, and they sing the following TRIO. When the rosy morn appearing, Paints with gold the verdant lawn, (William retires with Phoebe.) Ros. See, my dear Dorcas, what we gleaned yesterday in Mr. Belville's field. Dor. Lord love thee! but take care of thyself; thou art but tender. [out the lamp? Ros. Indeed, it does not hurt me. Shall I put Dor. Do, dear; the poor must be sparing. (Rosina going to put out the lamp, Dorcas looks after her and sighs; she returns hastily.) Ros. Why do you sigh, Dorcas? Dor. I canno' bear it: it's nothing to Phoebe and me, but thou wast not born to labour. Ros. Why should I repine? Heaven, which deprived me of my parents, and my fortune, left me health, content, and innocence. Nor is it certain that riches lead to happiness. Do you think the nightingale sings the sweeter for being in a gilded cage? Dor. Sweeter, I'll maintain it, than the poor little linnet that thou pick'dst up half starved under the hedge yesterday, after its mother had been shot, and brought'st to life in thy bosom. Let me speak to his honour; he's main kind to the poor. Ros. Not for the world, Dorcas; I want nothing; you have been a mother to me. Dor. Would I could! Would I could! I ha' worked hard and 'arn'd money in my time; but now I am old and feeble, and am pushed about by every body. More's the pity, I say; it was not so in my young time; but the world grows wickeder every day. Ros. Your age, my good Dorcas, requires rest; go into the cottage, whilst Phoebe and I join the gleaners, who are assembling from every part of the village. Dor. Many a time have I carried thy dear mother, an infant, in these arms; little did I think a child of her's would live to share my poor pittance. But I won't grieve thee. (Dorcas enters the cottage.) Pho. What makes you so melancholy, Rosina? Mayhap it's because you have not a sweetheart? But you are so proud, you won't let our young men come a-near you. You may live to repent being so scornful. (Rosina retires.) AIR.-PHOEBE. Of the day I forget all the labour and toil, Whilst the moon plays yon branches among. By her beams,without blushing, I hear him complain, And believe every word of her song: You know not how sweet 'tis to love the dear swain, Whilst the moon plays yon branches among. (During the last stanza, William appears, and makes signs to Phabe; who steals softly to him, and they disappear.) Rust. See, ye swains, yon streaks of red Call you from your slothful bed: till'd the fruitful soil; Late you See! where harvest crowns your toil! Cho. Late you till'd the fruitful soil; See! where harvest crowns your toil! Rust. As we reap the golden corn, Laughing plenty fills her horn: What would gilded pomp avail, Should the peasant's labour fail? Cho. What would gilded pomp avail Should the peasant's labour fail? Rust. Ripen'd fields your cares repay; Sons of labour, haste away; Bending, see the waving grain Crown the year, and cheer the swain. Cho. Bending, see the waving grain Crown the year, and cheer the swain. Rush. Hist! there's his honour. Where are all the lazy Irishmen, hired yesterday at market? Enter BELVILLE, followed by two Irishmen. 1 Irish. Is it us he's talking of, Paddy? Then the devil may thank him for his good commendations. Bel. You are too severe, Rustic; the poor fellows came three miles this morning; therefore I made them stop at the manor-house to take a little refreshment. 1 Irish. Bless your sweet face, my jewel, and all those who take your part. Bad luck to myself, if I would not, with all the veins of my heart, split the dew before your feet in a morning. Rust. If I do speak a little cross, it's for your honour's good. (The Reapers cut the corn, and make it into sheaves. Rosina follows, and gleans.) Rust. What a dickens does this girl do here? Keep back; wait till the reapers are off the field; do like the other gleaners. Ros. If I have done wrong, sir, I will put what I have gleaned down again. (She lets fall the ears.) Bel. How can you be so unfeeling, Rustic? She is lovely, virtuous, and in want. Let fall some ears, that she may glean the more. Rust. Your honour is too good by half. Bel. No more: gather up the corn she has let fall. Do as I command you. Rust. There; take the whole field, since his honour chooses it. (Putting the corn into her apron.) Exit. Ros. I will not abuse his goodness. [Retires, gleaning. 2 Irish. Upon my soul, now, his honour's no churl of the wheat, whatever he may be of the barley. [Exeunt. Bel. (Looking after Rosina.) What bewitching softness! There is a blushing, bashful gentleness, an almost infantine innocence in that lovely countenance, which it is impossible to behold without emotion. She turns this way: what bloom on that cheek! 'Tis the blushing down of the peach. AIR.-BELVILLE. Her mouth, which a smile Devoid of all guile, Half opens to view, Is the bud of the rose, In the morning that blows, Impearl'd with the dew. More fragrant her breath Than the flow'r-scented heath, At the dawning of day; The hawthorn in bloom, The lily's perfume, Or the blossoms of May. Enter CAPTAIN BELVILLE, in a riding-dress. Capt. B. Good morrow, brother; you are early abroad. Bel. My dear Charles, I am happy to see you. True, I find, to the first of September. Capt. B. I meant to have been here last night, but one of my wheels broke, and I was obliged to sleep at a village six miles distant, where I left my chaise, and took a boat down the river at day-break. But your corn is not off the ground. Bel. You know our harvest is late in the north; but you will find all the lands cleared on the other side of the mountain. Capt. B. And pray, brother, how are the partridges this season? Bel. There are twenty coveys within sight of my house, and the dogs are in fine order. Capt. B. The gamekeeper is this moment leading them round. I am fired at the sight. But where is my little rustic charmer? O! there she is: I am transported. (Aside.) Pray, brother, is not that the little girl, whose dawning beauty we ad mired so much last year? Bel. It is, and more lovely than ever. I shall dine in the field with my reapers to-day, brother: will you share our rural repast, or have a dinner prepared at the manor-house? Capt. B. By no means: pray let me be of your party: your plan is an admirable one, especially if your girls are handsome. I'll walk round the field, and meet you at dinner-time. [Exit Belville. AIR. By the dawn to the downs we repair, Gain health by the sports of the day. Hark! the volley resounds to the skies; In thunder replies, And resounds to the skies, Fire away! Fire away! Fire away! up (Rosina re-appears, Captain Belville goes to her, gleans a few ears, and presents them to her; she refuses them, and runs out; he follows her.) Enter WILLIAM, speaking as he enters. Will. Lead the dogs back, James; the Captain won't shoot to-day. (Seeing Rustic and Phœbe behind.) Indeed, so close! I don't half like it. Enter RUSTIC and PHŒBE. Rust. That's a good girl! do as I bid you, and you sha'n't want encouragement. (He goes up to the Reapers, and William comes forward.) Will. O no, I dare say she won't. So, Mrs. Phœbe! Phoe. And so, Mr. William, if you go to that! Will. A new sweetheart, I'll be sworn; and a pretty comely lad he is: but he's rich, and that's enough to win a woman. Pho. I don't desarve this of you, William ; but I'm rightly sarved, for being such an easy fool. You think, mayhap, I'm at my last prayers; but you may find yourself mistaken. Will. You do right to cry out first; you think, belike, that I did not see you take that posey from Harry. Phoe. And you, belike, that I did not catch you tying up one, of cornflowers and wild roses, for the miller's maid; but I'll be fool'd no longer; I have done with you, Mr. William. Will. I sha'n't break my heart, Mrs. Phoebe. The miller's maid loves the ground I walk on. DUETT.-WILLIAM and PHEBE. Will. I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty fair maids, And chang'd them as oft, d'ye see! But of all the fair maidens that dance on the green, The maid of the mill for me. Phoe. There's fifty young men, who have told me fine tales, And call'd me the fairest she: But of all the gay wrestlers that sport on the green,, Young Harry's the lad for me. Will. Her eyes are as black as a sloe in the hedge, Her teeth are as white as the new-shorn flock, Phoe. He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree, [Exeunt Pho. and Will. ROSINA runs across the stage, CAPTAIN BELVILLE following her. Capt. B. Stay and hear me, Rosina. Why will you fatigue yourself thus? Only homely girls are born to work. Your obstinacy is vain; you shall hear me. met with a generous gentleman, whose charity in clines him to succour youth. Dor. "Tis very kind. And old ageRos. He'll tell you that himself. [Exit. Dor. I thought so. Sure, sure, 'tis no sin to be old. Capt. B. You must not judge of me by others, honest Dorcas. I am sorry for your misfortunes, and wish to serve you. Dor. And to what, your honour, may I owe this kindness? Capt. B. You have a charming daughterDor. I thought as much. A vile wicked man! (A side.) resources in London; the moment she appears Capt. B. Beauty like her's might find a thousand there, she will turn every head. Dor. And is your honour sure her own won't turn at the same time? Capt. B. She shall live in affluence, and take care of you too, Dorcas. Dor. I guess your honour's meaning; but you are mistaken, sir. If I must be a trouble to the dear child, I had rather owe my bread to her labour than her shame. [Goes into the Cottage, and shuts the door. Capt. B. These women astonish me; but I won't give it up so. Enter RUSTIC, crossing the stage. Capt. B. A word with you, Rustic. Rust. I am in a great hurry, your honour; I am going to hasten dinner. Capt. B. I sha'n't keep you a minute. Take these five guineas. Rust. For whom, sir? Capt. B. For yourself. And this purse. Capt. B. For Rosina; they say she is in distress, and wants assistance. Rust. What pleasure it gives me to see you so charitable! But why give me money, sir? Capt. B. Only to-tell Rosina there is a person who is very much interested in her happiness. Rust. How much you will please his honour by this! He takes mightily to Rosina, and prefers her to all the young women in the parish. Capt. B. Prefers her! Ah! you sly rogue! Rust. Your honour's a wag; but I'm sure I meant no harm. Capt. B. Give her the money, and tell her she shall never want a friend: but not a word to my brother. Bel. Well, Rustic, have you any intelligence to communicate? Rust. A vast deal, sir. Your brother begins to make good use of his money; he has given me these five guineas for myself, and this purse for Rosina. Bel. For Rosina! 'Tis plain he loves her. ders the mind haughty, and Rosina's situation re(Aside.) Obey him exactly; but as distress renquires the utmost delicacy, contrive to execute not even suspect from whence the money comes. your commission in such a manner, that she may Rust. I anderstand your honour. Bel. Have you gained any intelligence in respect Capt. B. Why-as to thatRos. I understand you, sir; your compassion to Rosina? does not extend to old women. Capt. B. Really-I believe not. Enter DORCAS, from the Cottage. Rust. I endeavoured to get all I could from the old woman's grand-daughter; but all she knew was, that she was no kin to Dorcas, and that she had Ros. You are just come in time, mother. I have had a good bringing-up; but here come the reapers |