THE RIVALS.

ACT III, SCENE I.

The North Parade.

Enter CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE, L.

Capt. A.-'Tis just as Fag told me, indeed!-Whimsf cal enough, 'faith! My father wants to force me to marry the very girl I am plotting to run away with! He must not know of my connection with her yet awhile. He has too summary a method of proceeding in these matters; however, I'll read my recantation instantly. My conversion is something sudden, indeed; but I can assure him, it is very sincere.-So, so, here he comes— he looks plaguy gruff! [Steps aside, L.]

Enter SIR ANTHONY, R.

Sir A.-No-I'll die sooner than forgive him! Die, did I say? I'll live these fifty years to plague him. At our last meeting his impudence had almost put me out of temper-an obstinate, passionate, self-willed boy! Who can he take after? This is my return for getting him before all his brothers and sisters! for putting him, at twelve years old, into a marching regiment, and allowing him fifty pounds a year, besides his pay, ever since! But I have done with him-he's anybody's son for me I never will see him more-never-never

never-never.

Capt. A.-Now for a penitential face!

[Comes forward on the L.] Sir A.-Fellow, get out of my way! [Crosses, R.] Capt. A.-Sir, you see a penitent before you?

Sir A. [turning his back]-I see an impudent scoundrel behind me.

Capt. A.-A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to ac knowledge my error, and to submit entirely to your will. Sir A.-What's that?

Capt. A.-I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to me.

Sir A.-Well, sir?

Capt. A.-I have been likewise weighing and balanc ing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority.

Sir A. [turning round]-Why, now you talk sense, absolute sense; I never heard anything more sensible in my life. Confound you, you shall be Jack again!

Capt. A.-I am happy in the appellation.

Sir A.-Why then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented me telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture— prepare! What think you of Miss Lydia Languish?

Capt. A.-Languish! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire?

Sir A.-Worcestershire! No! Did you never meet Mrs. Malaprop, and her niece, Miss Languish, who came into our country just before you were last ordered to your regiment.

Capt. A.-Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the name before. Yet, stay: I think I do recollect something. Languish-Languish! She squints, don't she? A little red-haired girl?

Sir A.-Squints! A red-haired girl! Zounds, no! Capt. A.-Then I must have forgot: it can't be the same person.

Sir A.-Jack, Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen ?

Capt. A.-As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent: if I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire.

Sir A.-Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! Oh, Jack, lips, smiling at their own discretion and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting-more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! Oh! Jack! Jack!

Capt. A.-And which is to be mine, sir: the niece, or the aunt?

Sir A.-Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I despise you! When I was of your age, such a description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt, indeed! Odds life! when I ran away with your mother I would not have touched any thing old or ugly to gain an empire!

Capt. A.-Not to please your father, sir?

Sir A.-To please my father-zounds! not to please— Oh! my father? Oddso! yes, yes! if my father, indeed had desired-that's quite another matter. Though he wasn't the indulgent father that I am, Jack.

Capt. A.-I dare say not, sir.

Sir A.-But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful?

Capt. A.—Sir, I repeat it, if I please you in this af fair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being handsome; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before hinted something about a hump or two, one eye and a few more graces of that kind. Now,

without being very nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back; and though one eye may be very agreeable, yet, as the prejudice has always run in favor of two, I would not wish to affect a singularity in that article.

Sir A.-What a phlegmatic sot it is? Why, sirrah, you are an anchorite! a vile, insensible stock! You a soldier! you're a walking block, fit only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds life, I've a great mind to marry the girl myself!

Capt. A.-I am entirely at your disposal, sir; if you should think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you would have me marry the aunt; or if you should change your mind, and take the old lady, 'tis the same to me -I'll marry the niece.

Sir A.-Upon my word, Jack, thou art either a very great hypocrite, or-but, come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie—I'm sure it must. Come, now, confound your demure face; come, confess, Jack you have been lying, ha'nt you? You have been playing the hypocrite, hey? I'll never for give you, if you ha'nt been lying and playing the hypocrite.

Capt. A.-I am sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken.

Sir A.-Hang your respect and duty! But come along with me. [Crosses to L.] I'll write a note to Mrs. Malaprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the Promethean torch to you-come along, I'll never forgive you, if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and impatience-if you don't, 'egad, I'll marry the girl myself! [Exeunt, L.]

LOCHIEL'S WARNING.

IZARD.-Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day

in

For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight:
They rally!-they bleed!-for their kingdom and crown:
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down!
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain,
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?
'Tis thine, O Glanullin! whose bride shall await,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate.
A steed comes at morning: no rider is there;
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.
Weep Albin! to death and captivity led!
Oh, weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead:
For a merciless sword o'er Culloden shall wave,
Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave.
Lochiel.-Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling

seer,

Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear,

Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight,
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.

Wizard.-Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to
scorn?

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,

From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the North?
Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad;

But down let him stoop from his havoc on high!
Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh.