Moral plays: viz. Keep your temper! or, Know whom you marry; a comedy: The fate of Ivan; an historical tragedy: and Miss Betsy Bull; or, The Johnnies in Spain; a melo-drama

Front matter

MORAL PLAYSj

KEEP YOUR TEMPER! or KNOW WHOM YOU MARRY;

A N HISTORICAL TRA GED Y •

SCENE I. — A Room in Sir Rupert Gainsford's house. Enter Sir Rupert, Gilbert following

Sir Rupert. PsHAW, pshaw ! I tell thee, Gilbert, every thing there displeased me — I never met with any thing worthy of notice, nothing to attract the attention of a rational and well-informed mind.

Gil. Pardon me, Sir, if I presume to think that is utterly impossible ; grant, indeed, that you had frequently visited these scenes, and that mere familiarity might have rendered uninteresting to you, all those exhibitions, which must have a thousand charms for a young, and ardent mind.

Sir Rupert. Ardent ! aye, aye, there's the danger ; now come my punishments. [Apart] I tell you, it is a filthy place, this same London that you are so mad after, why, there is no seeing through their dirty windows.

Gil. I shall be always outside.

Sir Rupert. There thou wilt find tubs of rosetrees, pots of myrtle, boxes of mignionette, plates of daisies, dishes of mary golds, oh! mockery of the beauties of nature, besmeared with the dust which the wind hourly and liberally pours upon them ; this constitutes the flower-garden, and then, if there fortunately be a yard of ground at the back part of the dwelling, it is as regularly set with cabbage plants and potatoes, mint, parsley, sage, and thyme ! and this forms the kitchen-garden.

Gil. But I am not in the search of gardens of any description. It is the advancement of the arts, the progress of science, the perfection of Genius, the

Sir- Rupert. Perversion of man's taste, that leads him to prefer the pollution of cities, to the unsophisticated charms of rural life.

Gil. But by practically proving the vanity and insufficiency of the one, are we not more likely to become immutably enamoured of the other ?

Sir Rupert. Aye, Gilbert, I see thou canst be eloquent enough in a bad cause, but, in forcing upon ourselves experimental conviction, how often do we plant in the bosom a thorn, which we cannot afterwards eradicate ?

Gil. Tell me, Sir, frankly, are not the public buildings worthy my attention ?

Sir Rupert. Fudge ! fudge ! there's scarcely a mansion in the whole metropolis, to be compared with this ; why my very pigs are better lodged than many fine people in that great city. And as for that huge pile called St. Paul's, can any body say for what purpose it was made so big ; why, it is a fact, Sir, that the part in this immense Church allotted for the service is not much larger than the vestry room of this parish.

Gil. The religious part of the community was not so numerous, probably, in former days, as it now is ; it appears we improve.

Sir Rupert. In short, this same London is a rigmarole overgrown place, without either form or fashion ; I doubt if any one can tell on what plan it was originally built, or if it was built on any plan at all.

Gil. But what is that to the purpose ? Why give me books, pictures of mankind, and not allow me to see the real representation ?

Sir Rupert. Books, son, have not given thee this taste, it is the idle conversation of the wandering multitude that has seduced thee ; fools, and worse than fools, who, on returning from the great city, puff every block which they have met, to escape the censure of having travelled far and seen nothing ; thus, are the minds of youth inflamed with a passion for novelty which, in the end, fails not to disgust them with home scenes, and domestic enjoyment.

Gil. Would you have me then, Sir, stuck up in this corner of the world all my life, like one of your cabbage plants ? are not my principles fixed, Sir ?

Sir Rupert. I hope so, Gilbert, I hope so.

Gil. Could any thing on earth induce me even to enter a gaming-house 1

Sir Rupert. I believe not, Gilbert, I believe not.

Gil. I have made a solemn promise to myself, that no mortal ever shall persuade me to approach such a door — I will make you the same promise.

Sir Rupert. Well, well.

Gil. You know my opinion of duelling.

Sir Rupert. True, true, but the wisest will sometimes err ; happy is he who is not exposed to temptation.

Gil. I do not say so, Sir ! radicate principle, expose it to trial, and you then perfect the man.

Sir Rupert. Or ruin him, perhaps beyond redemption ! prevention is my maxim.

Gil. Perseverance my motto.

Sir Rupert. Alas, alas !

Gil. I know that I am sanguine, perhaps what some persons may call hot-headed, but, have I ever once in my life, given you any serious cause of uneasiness ?

Sir Rupert. Not as yet — not as yet.

Gil. Of what, then, are you afraid ?

Sir Rupert. Ah ! my son, there are so many evil accidents befalling us, on the high road of life, that no mortal wisdom can foresee, no human prudence avert, that with the best dispositions we may be overthrown ; let us not, therefore, court danger, let us not presume too much on our own strength.

Gil. Oh ! all this is making of a simple journey, a matter of too serious import. . Sir Rupert, [apart.'] Ah ! I must be punished.

Enter Lucy, a basket of fruit in her hand.

Lucy. Oh papa! see what the last night's

A COM ED V. 9

storm has done for us, all these, and they are but half ripe.

Sir Rupert. Take 'em away ! take 'em away !

[Sir Rupert walks about in evident emotion. Gil. This is unfortunate.

[Gilbert signs to "Lucy— -she retreats hiding the basket as she moves, and puts it into a closet.

Enter Roll and, a whip in his hand.

Roll. Tantivy ! tantivy ! [perceiving Lucy, then turning to Sir Rupert — ] Ha, my Gracia, Fallacia ! is it you ? What is your daughter's name, Sir Rupert? — so much enamoured of her various perfections, I always forget the little nominative indicative of the charming superlative !

Sir Rupert. Fudge !

Lucy. Some call me Rose, the poets Delia fair ;

Some swains less courteous, boldly oft declare, Nor wit nor grace doth simple Lucy boast,

And wonder how she grew the village toast.

Roll. Well, then, my Delia bright, my Rose, I say;

Does my friend Gilbert dine at home to-day ?

[turning to Gilbert.

Your rhyme is quite infectious, Miss Gainsford.

[Lucy and Gilbert converse.

Sir Rupert. , Pray, Sir, is your father at home ?

Roll. Certainty, Sir, I believe I can answer for that ; he is at home at all times, frequently before he puts his stockings on in a morning, he is very glad

JO KEEP YOUR TEMPER!

of the assistance of any of his neighbours in cutting his corns ; so that if you are at all accomplished in the art

Sir Rupert. Tell him, I shall dine with him to-day, [impatiently.

Roll. Most obliging ! by all means ! tantivy, tantivy ; a fine stag is to be turned out to-day ; you'll go, won't you, Gilbert ?

Gil. No, it is quite impossible ; in three minutes I shall be on the high road to London.

Roll, [to Sir Rupert.] Is it possible, Father Cautious, you can have been persuaded to give consent to that ?

Sir Rupert. To what, pray Sir?

[Lucy signs to Rolland to be silent.

Roll. Why, Sir, to pay the powder-tax these hard times.

[Rolland lightly touches Sir Rupert's wig, from which the powder abundantly flies.

Sir Rupert. Pray, Sir, tell your father I wish to investigate with him the title-deeds to the estate of Beekelfield, and that I shall come early.

[Edit Gilbert.

Roll. Most obliging ! the sooner the more agreeable, doubt not. [apart.] The old rogue wants me gone already — this estate of Beekelfield, I presume, may be thought of as a marriage settlement ; you contemplate the purchase in case I should determine, you understand ? I say, Lucy, my love

Sir Rupert. How, Sir ?

Roll. You will dine with us also ?

Sir Rupert. No, Sir, slie will not. Lucy. No ; certainly not ; I have not studied at the feet of Gamaliel, I have no acquaintance with Blackstone ; I have no opinion on the dull subject of title-deeds.

Roll. But we can parley apart, my beloved,

[Sir Rupert walks impatiently about. Lucy. What of hunting the stag ; I have no taste that way either.

Roll. Can one talk of the stag or the law when you are present ?

Sir Rupert. If you cannot immediately take my message, pray say so, and I will send a servant.

Roll. Very proper, indeed ! but, however, I am going home — with a heigh — [goings returns.'] ho ! chevy ! hark forward ! hark forward tantivy ! Shall I tell dad you'll come at four ?

Sir Rupert. No, in an hour I shall be with him. Roll. Very good ! [going, returns.'] What shall we have for dinner ?

Sir Rupert. Fudge !

Roll. Adieu, my Arethusa bright,

Your bloom, without your wealth, a weaker

wight Than Hercules, might tempt to knock the

dragon down, A better prize than his, the toil would crown !

[to Lucy.

See how you have inspired me.

Lucy. Go, Sir ! get you gone, Or you will find more dragons here than one. Roll. True love is all obedience. [going.

Sir Rupert. . Prfthee dream no more of tliat.-- Roll. I lov'd a maid, she me betray 'd, Good care I'll take so don't another.

The chace shall be my mistress, she Will prove more kind than any other ! With a heigh ho ! chevy, hark forward ! hark forward, tantivy ! [Exit Roll a nix.

[Sir Rupert holds up his cane in a menacing manner after Roll and as he is going out. Sir Rupert. Come, Rose, we will take a turn round the shrubbery, and see what the last night's storm has done there.

Lucy. Lean on my arm, papa, you are still a little lame from your last attack of the gout.

[As they are going out on one side, Roll a nit enters at the other.

Roll. I say Lucy, my love, shall I call upon you this evening ?

[Sir Rupert hurries away ; Roll and affects to pursue them.

SCENE \\.—An Apartment in Mrs. Woodly's House.

Mrs. Woodly reading a Letter.

[Mrs. Woodly reads] — " In short, I can no longer resist his pressing importunities, ardent, and halfignorant of the world as he is, I tremble for the event ; I must, therefore, entreat you to watch over him with parental anxiety, for were I to accompany him, I should only be considered as a spy upon his actions, and that might, eventually, lessen the confidence which has hitherto subsisted between us, I depend, however, much on your care and affection. Be not surprised if he should arrive a few minutes after the receipt of this letter.

I remain, in the utmost affliction,

GAINSFORD."

Oh ! what an unexpected stroke is this ! which way shall I turn ? what is to be done ? what plan shall I adopt ? shall I declare to him the whole truth ? the painful truth ! No ! I cannot— yet, when I consider the power of virtue, intelligence, and beauty, on an unsophisticated mind, I

feel it would be best alas! alas! could I dream

that this anxiety was to be the fruit of my cares ?

Pat. Lady Aubrette, your honor. [Exit Patrick. Mrs. Wood. It is well, a thought, a happy thought occurs.

Enter Lady Aubrette.

Lady Anb. Ah, my dear Mrs. Woodly, how d'ye" do ? I am come to claim your promise

Mrs. Woodly. And I must again have recourse to your indulgence to plead my excuse, I am not sufficiently recovered to leave home at present.

Lady Aub. Is this really the case ?— and Gertrude ?

. Mrs. Woodly. She is quite at your, service for the whole of the summer.

Lady Aub. I am delighted with that arrangement, for securing the one is half gaining possession of the other.

Mrs. Wood. And where is Sir John ?

Lady Aub. He stopt at the door to speak to young Melville, but already I hear him.

Enter Sir John, bowing.

Sir John. I have the pleasure to see Mrs. Woodly better ?

Mrs. Wood. Though by no means recovered — I thank you, Sir John.

Lady Aub. [Throws herself into a chair, .] Ah ! misericorde ! how fatigued I am ! that rugged ride you made me take yesterday, Sir John.

Sir John. I thought twould have prevented your having the vapours to-day, my Lady.

Mrs. Wood. Allow me to offer you some refreshment.

Lady Aub. Excuse me, madam, I cannot take any thing. I see, Sir John, one may die very quietly in your presence.

Sir John. Surely I could not think of disturbing the last moments of one so dear to me.

Lady Aub. Oh, Sir John, you are the most provoking of men.

Sir John. I think we might both improve ourselves. Excuse the liberty we take in your presence, madam.

Mrs. Wood. No ceremony, I entreat.

Lady Aub. I shall return home immediately. [Lady Aubrette rings.

Sir John. But compose your spirits, my love — be a little calm.

Lady Aub. I hate calmness, and all calm people.

Enter Patrick.

Call my carriage immediately. [Patrick going.

Sir John. Order mine to wait till I come.

. [Patrick going, returns.

Lady Aub. Obey my orders !

Sir John. You have heard me ?

Pat. Sure, your honor, I can obey both, first I will call the coach for my lady, and then tell him to wait for his lordship. [Exit Patrick.

Lady Aub. [to Mrs. Woodly.] Is this to be endured ?

Mrs. Wood. My dear Lady Aubrette, let me entreat you

Lady Aub. No, no ! we shall see who will be obeyed. [Exit hastily Lady Aubrette.

Mrs. Wood. Lady Aubrette is very young.

Sir John. True, true, I have not to complain exactly of her being a termagant, but she is a composition of extravagancies infinitely more difficult of cure, and if the evil be not rooted out in the beginning, it is evident no social happiness can be expected in the end.

Mrs. Wood. I hope much from time and your good management ; and then Lady Aubrette possesses a superior understanding.

Sir John. I am satisfied as to that, and am, therefore, encouraged to proceed — 'but. I 'hear 'her returning — I will, if you please, retire by this door, and in the moment take possession of the disputed vehicle.

Mrs. Wood. By all means, Sir John, and my carriage is at her ladyship's service.

Sir John. In the interim, I leave her to your very good counsel. [Exit Sir John.

Mrs. Wood. Depend upon me. I hope this delay may not prove unfortunate to my plans.

Re-enter hastily Lady Aubrette looking about.

Lady Aub. Where is the monster, madam ? . Mrs. Wood. Oh, he very calmly left me by that door.

, Lady Aub. Tell me, madam, is this treatment to be endured ?

. Mrs* Wood. Certainly, it ought not to be continued.

Lady Aub. There have I been sitting all this time in the carriage, and the creature would not move a jot ; in vain I threatened and abused him, he remained like a cucumber in its bed ; obeyed implicitly the orders of his tyrannical master, and fearful of a mob gathering round me, I was at last obliged to return — tell me, madam, was this right ?

Airs. Wood. Very far from it, indeed ! and, tho' we do promise a sort of obedience at the altar

Lady Aub. We do not vow to obey, if the men should be unreasonable in commanding us.

A COMEDY. ]?

]\Irs. Wood. Good ! yet we cannot marry on conditional terms, and

Lady Aub. Truly, the marriage act has great need of amendment !

Mrs. Wood, Let us sit — you are fatigued [Mrs. Woodly draws chairs and they sit.] Sir John appears to be incessantly reproving you.

Lady Aub. Continually, my dear Mrs. Woodly, everlastingly !

Mrs. Wood. And, perhaps, frequently condemns you without any just reason.

Lady Aub. Every hour of his life, madam !

Mrs. Wood. To what may we attribute all this ?

Lady Aub. Oh ! to the caprice, the madness, the overbearing spirit of the sex.

Mrs. Wood. I think not, exactly : it arises partly, I believe, from his excessive vanity.

Lady Aub. My dear Mrs. Woodly, I am charmed with your penetration — excessive vanity, indeed.

Mrs. Wood. And still more from his extreme love for

Lady Aub. For whom, in the name of pity ?

Mrs. Wood. His very great love for you.

Lady Aub. How can that be ? explain.

Mrs. Wood. Such is his extraordinary attachment, that he never appears to abstract his mind a moment from you — not a syllable you utter escapes him — and of the most trifling inadvertencies, that a being to whom you were perfectly indifferent would scarcely discover if pointed out, Sir John seizes the moment, and investigates each error with all the scrutiny of an alchymist ; this certainly proves the strength of his attachment, and the height of his vanity is equally manifested, or he would not be so very anxious to render superior to the slightest mortal imperfection the person thus nearly related to himself, and thus tenderly beloved.

Lady Auk Ah, could I think so— but yet what a strange method he takes to make me superior: but—

Airs. Wood. The best artists often err in the execution, when they have not been faulty in tli£ design.

Lady Aub. But seriously now, Mrs. Woodly, what do you consider my most remarkable failings ?

Mrs. Wood. Oh, excuse me, I must leave them for Sir John to discover.

Lady Aub. With a microscopic eye !

Mrs. Wood. True ! but if one could prevent him discovering any

Lady Aub. Ah, that, indeed, were an utter impossibility, and certainly the gross exists in the man's imagination.

Mrs. Wood. He determines, however, to root out the evil which he fancies he sees, and how calmly persevering he is.

Lady Aub. A perfect mule !

Mrs. Wood. Whom it is in vain to attempt to lead or drive ; nothing moves him.

Lady Aub. It is precisely that which provokes me ! if I could but once put him out of humour

Mrs. Wood. I think it is hardly possible.

Lady Aub. Well, if ever it should be my fate to be left a widow, never, no, never will I marry again !

JMrs. Wood. But, when once one has entered the state, it is as well to seek contentment in it, and

Lady Aub. How, in the name of reason ?

Mrs. Wood. By mutual endeavours to oblige ; one must be •

Lady Aub. So ridiculously obedient !

Mrs. Wood. No, no ! only amiably attentive ; patient, when reproved ; not bearing in mind little trifling offences, and, by way of prefatory practice, promise to say nothing of this affair of the coach on your return home ; endeavour

Lady Aub. I will; but, upon my honor, it is so very impudent an affair ! [looking at her ivatch.~] It is late ; I will just leave an order at the mercer's, and return for Gertrude.

Mrs. Wood. Do, my dear friend ; you shall not have to wait one moment for her ; pray use all dispatch to precede Sir John.

Lady Aub. I saw your carriage at the door.

Mrs. Wood. It is quite at your service ; I rely on your promptitude, and will instantly hasten Gertrude.

Lady Aub. In the mean time, should Sir John return hither, do not fail to lecture him on his vanity.

Mrs. Wood. I will not forget.

[Exeunt together.

c 2

SCENE HI.— 4 Library.

Enter Mrs. Woodly.

Mrs. Wood. How thankful I am that Lady Aubrette is gone, and that Gertrude will soon be out of this house ! Yet how oppressed I feel — what a prophetic sadness sits at my heart ! — alas, if this simple concealment, originating from the best motives, can thus affect me, what must be their feelings who are burdened with the consciousness of guilt ? [Rings.

Enter Patrick.

Pray where is Mrs. Roper?

Pat. Your pardon, madam, but that is quite impossible to tell ; gossiping, I dare say, in some corner of the town, talking scandal of every body in the house, not accepting even your honor.

Mrs. Wood. Desire her to come to me as soon as she returns. [Sits to a table and begins to write.

Pat. I will, your honor — but there never was such a wasp as Madam Roper.

[Exit Patrick ; as he is going out, Mrs. Roper enters from the opposite side, and overhears - the last words.

Mrs. Roper. Now to think of the impudence of that plebeian, he has been abusing me slily.

Mrs. Wood, [looking up.] Oh ! you are here, then, Roper?

Mrs. Roper. Your pardon, madam ; I have not been out ten minutes, but there is such a set of mischievous people in this place.

Mrs. Wood. Roper, I do not complain, it is of no consequence so lam satisfied.

Mrs. Roper. It is impossible for a gentlewoman to brook it, and

Mrs. Wood. Hear me now, Roper, I wish to have the two spare rooms in the left wing immediately prepared, they will, probably, be wanted this very evening.

Mrs. Roper. Very well, madam, it shall be done immediately ; only I was going to observe, that I could not live with that piece of vulgarity.

Mrs. Wood. Another time I will attend to your grievances — but now there must not be any delay — order dinner an hour earlier than usual — and, if any stranger should arrive before I return, shew him into this room, and say I shall be at home very soon. [Apart.'] I pray that he may not arrive this day. [Exit Mrs, Woodly.

Mrs. Roper. Very well, madam, [looking out after her.] Let herself out ! What can be in the wind ? Humph ! humph ! humph ! really my lady begins to command me like a common servant in the house — but I see how it is, that low-bred creature has been forging a packet of lies of me to my mistress, and she, poor easy woman, believes all she hears — well, ladies are strange sort of ladies now-a-days, to be listening to the tales of such varlets — but I wonder what can be in the wind, now ? both bedrooms to be got ready ! — first, however, let me be even with my gentleman, I'll give him a drubbing, or my name's not Roper. [She rings very loudly.

Enter Patrick.

So, Sir, for once you have condescended to answer my bell ? [Patrick looking about him with surprise.

Pat. What, then, is not her honor here ?

Mrs. Roper. Yes, Sir, her honor is here ! [drawing herself up.] And so, Mr. Impudence, you call me a wasp, do you ?

Pat. And did her honor really tell you that ?

Mrs. Roper. And so you thought I was not in the confidence of my Mistress, eh ? but I'll teach you to tell lies of me, you ungrateful — have I not, time after time, given you of the sweets of the store-room ?

Pat. Ah, yes, indeed, Madam Roper, but that was to qualify the pickles you obliged me to swallow.

Mrs. Roper. How many a cordial glass have you had from me ?

Pat. Whenever I caught you taking a sly drop, as your ill luck would have it.

Mrs. Roper. Will you promise never to talk scandal of me again ? Will you, I say 1

[Shaking his shoulders.

Pat. Ods my life, without— [a loud knocking and ringing.! all this ceremony.

Mrs. Roper. Alack a day ! I shall be caught.

[Running about

Pat. And that in a vile bad action, Madam Roper — [Knocking and ringing again.

]\lrs. Roper. Where are my keys ? Where are my keys ? [running about.] Is the porter at the door ? Blockhead, what are you doing here ?

Pat. Your honor forgets that she rang for me. Sure your honor sometimes forgets herself like many other great folks. [Exit Patrick.

Mrs. Roper. Stupid fool ! — this comes of stopping here to take revenge ! My keys, my keys, what shall I do ? Suppose the strangers should be come. {Exit hastily, Mrs. Roper.

! Pat, [speaking without.] This way, your honor, this way !

Enter Patrick, Gilbert following.

Gil. Be so -good as to tell my servant to give you the paper- case at the back of the carriage. [Exit Patrick.] So far, friend Rolland, I am safe, in spite of your prophecies, and my father's forebodings.

Re-enter Patrick with a small Portfolio, which lie places on a Table.

GiL At what time do you expect Mrs. Woodly home ?

Pat. Every moment, sure, your honor, for dinner is ordered an hour sooner than usual, only Madam Roper has lost her keys, and that may put us all back, perhaps, and

Gil. Who is Madam Roper?

Pat. The housekeeper here, Sir, who will soon scrape acquaintance with you— but I would have you beware of her, she is deep.

Gil. Thank you, friend ! thank you ! [apart.]' From the Green Isle, I presume.

Pat. Ah, believe me, she's a wasp, that has- not a civil word for any one, except my lady's Prodijay.

Gil. Now what can that be 1 some parrot, or monkey, I suppose.

Pat. Then, if it is not the prettiest and quietest of the kind, Patrick O'Laughligan never saw the land of Saints.

Gil. He seems inclined to communicate, if he did but know how. [apart.] In plain English, who, or what is it ?

Pat. To be sure, your honor, it is a young lady.

Gil. But what is her name ? [impatiently.'] Has she no name ?

Pat. No ! never a one, your honor.

Gil. A very extraordinary lady indeed! no name ! [apart.] This fellow's intelligence only serves to put one more in the dark. You mistake, friend ! she must have a name !

Pat. Oh, yes, yes ! Have a little patience ; I do recollect more about it, she has a name ; but nobody believes it to be her true name, they say it is a sham — they call her Stanley, sometimes.

Gil. Stanley, Stanley ! I do not recollect such a name in any of Mrs. Woodly's letters, but has she no relations, no friends — no father — no mother ?

Pat. [earnestly.'] No, your honor, I don't hear that ever she had.

A COMEDY. 'CO

Gil. Good ! — what can I make of all this? It appears, then, that there is some mystery about this young lady ?

Pat. Oh ! a very great deal ? for I don't find that Mrs. Roper with all her learning has been able to find it out, and every body seems mighty curious about her, and I think, Sir, as how you are pretty much infected in the same way.

Gil. Be that as it may, I shall hear the whole story from Mrs. Woodly.

Pat. No you wont, sure, your honor, and, as I see you are a stranger here, let me give you a bit of advice.

Gil. Thank you, friend ! thank you ! proceed.

Pat. Take care, then, what questions you ask about young Miss, if you would keep in with the old lady, my very good mistress, whom I love with all my shoul.

Gil. Proceed with

Pat. Her honor has offended many of her quality friends, because they asked questions that were not quite agreeble, you understand ?

Gil. Perfectly ! perfectly ! and thank you for the hint. [A knock at the door.

Pat. Your lordship will excuse me for a minute, you see the porter is out. [Exit Patrick.

Gil. This man is, certainly, one of his own country, and a very agreeable natural, in truth — but who comes this way ? [looking out.] I will retreat a little, for this, if I mistake not, must be the prodigy or protegee. [Gilbert retires to the further part of the Stage.

Enter Gertrude, who, not perceiving Gilbert, throws herself into a Chair.

Gert. Well, well, I am prepared according to order, but oh, my heart, I feel as if I were never to return here ! I feel as if I could not survive the grief that oppresses me — when I entreated to stay, Mrs. Woodly insisted in the most peremptory manner — I never knew her insist before — forbid to wait her return ! What can all this mean ?

Gil. [advances and bows.] Pardon me, madam, I ought sooner to have apologized for this intrusion,

but the surprise of the moment

. Gert. [looking astonished.] I, I do not recollect 1 mean

Gil. If you are an inmate of this house, madam, I presume you will readily guess who I am ?

Gert. I am, indeed, Sir, an inmate here, yet I am totally ignorant who it is I have the honor to address.