_Louisa._ I know not--return to lady Waitfor"t"s again, I will not--I had rather be a wanderer all my life--to lady Walton"s there is no excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude upon.--I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would sooner confide in;--can you then think of any place where I may rest in safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle"s in the country.
_Flor._ Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;--I have no home but what this gentleman is to purchase me [_Taking out his purse._]--you cannot partake of that.
_Louisa._ Oh! what will become of me?
_Flor._ Let me see--I have it--I"ll take her to my brother"s;--she"ll be safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.--Well, Miss Courtney,--I have recollected a place where I know you"ll be safe--a friend"s house, that will be as secure--nay, don"t droop--in Italy we"re never melancholy.
_Louisa._ Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor"t exposed me!--to her perfidy I owe it all--but yonder"s that wretch again--pray let us begone.
_Flor._ Belzebub again,--no, no, we mustn"t stir;--what! an angel fly from a devil? damme, I"ll stay and crush him.
_Louisa._ Nay, sir, reflect,--"twere madness to remain.
_Flor._ "Faith that"s true; I believe it"s braver to retire,--therefore, Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I"ll fight your battles, and if I don"t sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I live! [_Exeunt._
_Enter WILLOUGHBY._
_Willoughby._ Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it--I would have seen them--lady Waitfor"t has just left me, and treated me like her slave,--insulted and derided me; but I"ll have done with her for ever,--I"ll be her dupe no more;--she is now gone to Neville"s lodgings, under pretence of pursuing Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;--this I will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her infamy;--thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue. [_Exit._
SCENE II.
_NEVILLE"S Lodgings--A Closet in back Scene.--Two Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.--A knocking at the Door._
_Enter PETER, reading a Card._
_Peter._ _Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend"s play since they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take his judgment on it in a few minutes._ If the gentleman should come soon, I fear my master won"t be at home to receive him.
[_Knocks.--PETER opens the Door, and lets in VAPID._
_Vapid._ Well, here it is;--where"s Neville?
_Peter._ Not within, sir.
_Vapid._ Yes, yes, here it is:--I must see him.
_Peter._ Sir, he"s gone out.
_Vapid._ Gone out? impossible!
_Peter._ Impossible! it"s very true, sir.
_Vapid._ Gone out! why, I"ve brought him the epilogue--the new epilogue to Mr What"s-his-name"s comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my life; I knew it would delight him.
_Peter._ Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours.
_Vapid._ Then he"ll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it"s all correct--all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make it complete.
_Peter._ Indeed, sir, it"s very unfortunate.
_Vapid._ Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed half line, I have so long been working at.
_Peter._ Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you"d permit me to read it--
_Vapid._ You read it!
_Peter._ Yes, sir, if you"d allow me that honour.
_Vapid._ "Faith, I should have no objection,--but wouldn"t it lower one"s dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, so I believe all"s regular.--Come, sir, begin.
[_PETER reading Epilogue._
In ancient times, when agonizing wars, And bleeding nations, fill"d the world with jars; When murder, battle, sudden death, prevail"d, When----
_Vapid._ Stop--stop--I have it: not a word for your life; I feel it--it"s coming on--the last line directly--quick! quick!
[_PETER reads._
The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, Die all, die n.o.bly!----
_Peter._ Here"s something wanting, sir.
_Vapid._ I know it, say nothing--I have it-- [_Walks backwards and forwards._
The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, Die all, die n.o.bly!----
Oh, d.a.m.n it! d.a.m.n it! d.a.m.n it!--that cursed half line!--I shall never accomplish it--all so chaste--all so correct,--and to have it marr"d for want of one half line,--one curst half line! I could almost weep for disappointment.
_Peter._ Never mind, sir, don"t perplex yourself,--put in any thing.
_Vapid._ Put in any thing! why, "tis the last line, and the epilogue must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause--no trap for applause, after all this fine writing!--Put in any thing!--what do you mean, sirrah?
_Peter._ Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy--[_Knock at the door._]--Perhaps this is my master--[_Looks out._]--no, as I live, "tis Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn"t on any account be seen by this gentleman.
_Vapid._ Well, who is it?--"The tyrant totters"--
_Peter._ Sir, it"s a friend of my master"s who has brought a lady with him--I"m sure you"ve too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, therefore, you"ll be kind enough to get out of the way directly.
_Vapid._ Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my composition?--"Die all, die n.o.bly"--
_Peter._ Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you shall be released,--now, pray, sir,--pray be prevailed on.
_Vapid._ Well, let me see--in this closet! why, here"s china, zounds!
would you put a live author in a china closet?
_Peter._ What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door--get in here for an instant, and I"ll show them into the library--now do, sir.
_Vapid._ Well, be brief then,--"Die all! die n.o.bly!"--oh! oh! oh!
[_Enters Closet, and FLORIVILLE and LOUISA enter._