The Rivals by Richard Brinsley Sheridan (the reader ebook TXT) 📖

and abettors! I'll be your second with all my heart—and if you should get a quietus, you may command me entirely. I'll get you snug lying in the Abbey here; or pickle you, and send you over to Blunderbuss-hall, or anything of the kind, with the greatest pleasure.

Sir LUCIUS
Pho! pho! you are little better than a coward.

ACRES Mind, gentlemen, he calls me a coward; coward was the word, by my valour!

Sir LUCIUS
Well, sir?

ACRES Look'ee, Sir Lucius, 'tisn't that I mind the word coward—coward may be said in joke—But if you had called me a poltroon, odds daggers and balls——

Sir LUCIUS
Well, sir?

ACRES
I should have thought you a very ill-bred man.

Sir LUCIUS
Pho! you are beneath my notice.

ABSOLUTE
Nay, Sir Lucius, you can't have a better second than my friend
Acres—He is a most determined dog—called in the country, Fighting
Bob.—He generally kills a man a week—don't you Bob?

ACRES
Ay—at home!

Sir LUCIUS Well, then, captain, 'tis we must begin—so come out, my little counsellor—[Draws his sword]—and ask the gentleman, whether he will resign the lady, without forcing you to proceed against him?

ABSOLUTE Come on then, sir—[Draws]; since you won't let it be an amicable suit, here's my reply.

[Enter Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE, DAVID, Mrs. MALAPROP, LYDIA, and JULIA.]

DAVID Knock 'em all down, sweet Sir Anthony; knock down my master in particular; and bind his hands over to their good behaviour!

Sir ANTHONY Put up, Jack, put up, or I shall be in a frenzy—how came you in a duel, sir?

ABSOLUTE Faith, sir, that gentleman can tell you better than I; 'twas he called on me, and you know, sir, I serve his majesty.

Sir ANTHONY Here's a pretty fellow; I catch him going to cut a man's throat, and he tells me, he serves his majesty!—Zounds! sirrah, then how durst you draw the king's sword against one of his subjects?

ABSOLUTE Sir! I tell you, that gentleman called me out, without explaining his reasons.

Sir ANTHONY Gad! sir, how came you to call my son out, without explaining your reasons!

Sir LUCIUS
Your son, sir, insulted me in a manner which my honour could not brook.

Sir ANTHONY Zounds! Jack, how durst you insult the gentleman in a manner which his honour could not brook?

Mrs. MALAPROP Come, come, let's have no honour before ladies—Captain Absolute, come here—How could you intimidate us so?—Here's Lydia has been terrified to death for you.

ABSOLUTE
For fear I should be killed, or escape, ma'am?

Mrs. MALAPROP
Nay, no delusions to the past—Lydia is convinced; speak, child.

Sir LUCIUS With your leave, ma'am, I must put in a word here: I believe I could interpret the young lady's silence. Now mark——

LYDIA
What is it you mean, sir?

Sir LUCIUS Come, come, Delia, we must be serious now—this is no time for trifling.

LYDIA 'Tis true, sir; and your reproof bids me offer this gentleman my hand, and solicit the return of his affections.

ABSOLUTE O! my little angel, say you so?—Sir Lucius—I perceive there must be some mistake here, with regard to the affront which you affirm I have given you. I can only say, that it could not have been intentional. And as you must be convinced, that I should not fear to support a real injury—you shall now see that I am not ashamed to atone for an inadvertency—I ask your pardon.—But for this lady, while honoured with her approbation, I will support my claim against any man whatever.

Sir ANTHONY
Well said, Jack, and I'll stand by you, my boy.

ACRES Mind, I give up all my claim—I make no pretensions to any thing in the world; and if I can't get a wife without fighting for her, by my valour! I'll live a bachelor.

Sir LUCIUS Captain, give me your hand: an affront handsomely acknowledged becomes an obligation; and as for the lady, if she chooses to deny her own hand-writing, here—— [Takes out letters.]

Mrs. MALAPROP O, he will dissolve my mystery!—Sir Lucius, perhaps there's some mistake—perhaps I can illuminate——

Sir LUCIUS Pray, old gentlewoman, don't interfere where you have no business.—Miss Languish, are you my Delia, or not?

LYDIA
Indeed, Sir Lucius, I am not. [Walks aside with CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE.]

Mrs. MALAPROP Sir Lucius O'Trigger—ungrateful as you are—I own the soft impeachment —pardon my blushes, I am Delia.

Sir LUCIUS
You Delia—pho! pho! be easy.

Mrs. MALAPROP Why, thou barbarous Vandyke—those letters are mine—When you are more sensible of my benignity—perhaps I may be brought to encourage your addresses.

Sir LUCIUS Mrs. Malaprop, I am extremely sensible of your condescension; and whether you or Lucy have put this trick on me, I am equally beholden to you.—And, to show you I am not ungrateful, Captain Absolute, since you have taken that lady from me, I'll give you my Delia into the bargain.

ABSOLUTE
I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius; but here's my friend, Fighting
Bob, unprovided for.

Sir LUCIUS
Hah! little Valour—here, will you make your fortune?

ACRES
Odds wrinkles! No.—But give me your hand, Sir Lucius, forget and
forgive; but if ever I give you a chance of pickling me again, say Bob
Acres is a dunce, that's all.

Sir ANTHONY
Come, Mrs. Malaprop, don't be cast down—you are in your bloom yet.

Mrs. MALAPROP
O Sir Anthony—men are all barbarians.

[All retire but JULIA and FAULKLAND.]

JULIA [Aside.] He seems dejected and unhappy—not sullen; there was some foundation, however, for the tale he told me—O woman! how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!

FAULKLAND Julia!—how can I sue for what I so little deserve? I dare not presume—yet Hope is the child of Penitence.

JULIA Oh! Faulkland, you have not been more faulty in your unkind treatment of me, than I am now in wanting inclination to resent it. As my heart honestly bids me place my weakness to the account of love, I should be ungenerous not to admit the same plea for yours.

FAULKLAND
Now I shall be blest indeed!

Sir ANTHONY [Coming forward.] What's going on here?—So you have been quarrelling too, I warrant! Come, Julia, I never interfered before; but let me have a hand in the matter at last.—All the faults I have ever seen in my friend Faulkland seemed to proceed from what he calls the delicacy and warmth of his affection for you—There, marry him directly, Julia; you'll find he'll mend surprisingly!

[The rest come forward.]

Sir LUCIUS Come, now, I hope there is no dissatisfied person, but what is content; for as I have been disappointed myself, it will be very hard if I have not the satisfaction of seeing other people succeed better.

ACRES You are right, Sir Lucius.—So Jack, I wish you joy—Mr. Faulkland the same.—Ladies,—come now, to show you I'm neither vexed nor angry, odds tabors and pipes! I'll order the fiddles in half an hour to the New Rooms—and I insist on your all meeting me there.

Sir ANTHONY 'Gad! sir, I like your spirit; and at night we single lads will drink a health to the young couples, and a husband to Mrs. Malaprop.

FAULKLAND Our partners are stolen from us, Jack—I hope to be congratulated by each other—yours for having checked in time the errors of an ill-directed imagination, which might have betrayed an innocent heart; and mine, for having, by her gentleness and candour, reformed the unhappy temper of one, who by it made wretched whom he loved most, and tortured the heart he ought to have adored.

ABSOLUTE Well, Jack, we have both tasted the bitters, as well as the sweets of love; with this difference only, that you always prepared the bitter cup for yourself, while I——

LYDIA Was always obliged to me for it, hey! Mr. Modesty?—But come, no more of that—our happiness is now as unalloyed as general.

JULIA Then let us study to preserve it so: and while Hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colours which are too bright to be lasting.—When hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, Virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers; but ill-judging Passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropped!

[Exeunt omnes.]

* * * * * * * * * *

EPILOGUE
By the Author

Spoken by MRS. BULKLEY

  Ladies, for you—I heard our poet say—
  He'd try to coax some moral from his play:
  "One moral's plain," cried I, "without more fuss;
  Man's social happiness all rests on us:
  Through all the drama—whether damn'd or not—
  Love gilds the scene, and women guide the plot.
  From every rank obedience is our due—
  D'ye doubt?—The world's great stage shall prove it true."
    The cit, well skill'd to shun domestic strife,
  Will sup abroad; but first he'll ask his wife:
  John Trot, his friend, for once will do the same,
  But then—he'll just step home to tell his dame.
    The surly squire at noon resolves to rule,
  And half the day—Zounds! madam is a fool!
  Convinced at night, the vanquish'd victor says,
  Ah, Kate! you women have such coaxing ways.
    The jolly toper chides each tardy blade,
  Till reeling Bacchus calls on Love for aid:
  Then with each toast he sees fair bumpers swim,
  And kisses Chloe on the sparkling brim!
    Nay, I have heard that statesmen—great and wise—
  Will sometimes counsel with a lady's eyes!
  The servile suitors watch her various face,
  She smiles preferment, or she frowns disgrace,
  Curtsies a pension here—there nods a place.
    Nor with less awe, in scenes of humbler life,
  Is view'd the mistress, or is heard the wife.
  The poorest peasant of the poorest soil,
  The child of poverty, and heir to toil,
  Early from radiant Love's impartial light
  Steals one small spark to cheer this world of night:
  Dear spark! that oft through winter's chilling woes
  Is all the warmth his little cottage knows!
    The wandering tar, who not for years has press'd,
  The widow'd partner of his day of rest,
  On the cold deck, far from her arms removed,
  Still hums the ditty which his Susan loved;
  And while around the cadence rude is blown,
  The boatswain whistles in a softer tone.
    The soldier, fairly proud of wounds and toil,
  Pants for the triumph of his Nancy's smile!
  But ere the battle should he list her cries,
  The lover trembles—and the hero dies!
  That heart, by war and honour steel'd to fear,
  Droops on a sigh, and sickens at a tear!
    But ye more cautious, ye nice-judging few,
  Who give to beauty only beauty's due,
  Though friends to love—ye view with deep regret
  Our conquests marr'd, our triumphs incomplete,
  Till polish'd wit more lasting charms disclose,
  And judgment fix the darts which beauty throws!
  In female breasts did sense and merit rule,
  The lover's mind would ask no other school;
  Shamed into sense, the scholars of our eyes,
  Our beaux from gallantry would soon be wise;
  Would gladly light, their homage to improve,
  The lamp of knowledge at the torch of love!

* * * * * * * * * *

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