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_ ACT II - SCENE I
SCENE I. FRANKTON'S Lodgings.
FRANKTON and YOUNG LOVEYET sitting.
LOVEYET.
When did you say you saw her?
FRANKTON.
Last night, in company with several other belles of no small note, who did not look a tittle the handsomer for appearing at the same time with her, I assure you.
LOVEYET.
Then she's as charming as ever.
FRANKTON.
Charming as ever! By all that's beautiful, a Seraphim is
nothing to her! And as for Cherubims, when they compete with her,
Conscious of her superior charms they stand,
And rival'd quite by such a beauteous piece
Of mortal composition; they, reluctant,
Hide their diminish'd heads.
LOVEYET.
You extol her in very rapturous strains, George
--I hope you have not been smitten by her vast
perfections, like the Cherubims.
FRANKTON.
I am really enraptur'd with the bewitching little Goddess!
LOVEYET.
Do you positively think her so much superior to the generality of women?
FRANKTON.
Most indubitably I do--don't you, pray?
LOVEYET.
I thought her handsome once
--but--but--but you certainly are not in love with her.
FRANKTON.
Not I, faith. Ha, ha, ha. My enamorata and yours are two distinct persons, I assure you--and two such beauties!--By all that's desirable, if there was only one more in the city who could vie with the lovely girls, and boast of the same elegantly proportioned forms; the same beauty, delicacy and symmetry of features; the same celestial complexion, in which the lily and carnation are equally excell'd; the same----
LOVEYET.
Oh, monstrous!
Why, they exceed all the Goddesses I ever heard of, by your account.
FRANKTON.
Well, if you had let me proceed, I should have told you that if one more like them could be found in town, they would make a more beautiful triple than the three renowned goddesses who were candidates for beauty and a golden apple long ago; but no matter now.--The account you have given of the lovely Harriet, has rekindled the flame she so early inspir'd me with, and I already feel myself all the lover; how then shall I feel, when I once more behold the dear maid, like the mother of mankind--"with grace in all her steps, heaven in her eye; in every gesture, dignity and love!"
FRANKTON.
Aye--and what do you think of your father's sending for you
to marry you to this same beautiful piece of mortality?
LOVEYET.
Is it possible? Then I am happy indeed!
But this surpasses my most sanguine hopes!
FRANKTON.
Did you suppose he would object to the alliance then?
LOVEYET.
I did not know,--my hope was only founded
on the probability of his approving it.
FRANKTON.
Well, I can now inform you that your hope has a better basis to rest on, and that there is as fair a prospect of its being shortly swallowed up in fruition as ever Cupid and Hymen presented to a happy mortal's view.--For your farther comfort, I have the pleasure to acquaint you, that Mr. Trueman is equally fond of the match.
LOVEYET.
Better and better--my dear George! You are the best
of friends,--my happy genius! My very guardian angel!
FRANKTON.
Well said, Heroics--come, spout away.
LOVEYET.
Yes, I am happy, very happy, indeed: Moralists disparage this world too much,--there is such a thing as happiness under the sun,--I feel it now most irrefragably,--here it vibrates in a most extatic manner.
FRANKTON.
Why, you are positively the arrantest love-sick
swain that ever had recourse to a philter.
LOVEYET.
Profane heretic in love! Did not you extol the two Seraphims just now in the same generous language? But you have never experienced the blissful transition from doubt and solicitude to certainty and peace, as I do now.
FRANKTON.
How do you know that?
LOVEYET.
I only conjecture so--Did you ever feel the same transports I do?
FRANKTON.
How, in the name of sense, should I know how you feel?
LOVEYET.
Feel!--I feel that kind heaven, my friend, my father,
and my dearest girl, all conspire to bless me!
FRANKTON.
There he rides his hobby-horse again.
LOVEYET.
Aye, and a generous horse he is--he carries
me very pleasantly, I assure you.
FRANKTON.
Yes, and, I dare say, could convey you more
agreeably and speedily to Paradise than the Ass did Mahomet.
LOVEYET.
Ha, ha. I think you have improved my idea.
FRANKTON.
To improve your reason, and check your strange delirium, I have.
LOVEYET.
I will talk more dispassionately;--but my heart will palpitate at the thought of meeting the lovely source of its joy, and the ultimatum of all its wishes!
FRANKTON.
I suppose you know she lives with Mr. Friendly.
LOVEYET.
With Mr. Friendly!
FRANKTON.
Yes, she is nearly related to his family, and as the style in which they live, corresponds with her former prosperity better than the present ineligible situation of her father does, he has granted them her valuable company, after their repeated solicitations had prov'd the sincerity of their regard.
LOVEYET.
But how do you account for Mr. Trueman's poverty, since fortune has lately put it so much in Harriet's power to relieve him from it? I dare not think it arises from her want of filial regard; I do not know anything so likely to abate the ardour of my attachment as a knowledge of that; but it is an ungenerous suggestion, unworthy the benignity and tenderness of the gentle Harriet.
FRANKTON.
It is so.--Two things, on the part of the old gentleman, are the cause: his pride will not suffer him to be the subject of a daughter's bounty; and his regard for that daughter's welfare, makes him fearful of being instrumental in impairing her fortune.
LOVEYET.
I thought the angelic girl could not be ungrateful to the
parent of her being; but don't let us tarry--I am already on the wing.
FRANKTON.
You are too sanguine; you must not expect
to succeed without a little opposition.
LOVEYET.
How! what say you? pray be explicit.
FRANKTON.
I will remove your suspense.--There is a Mr. Worthnought, a thing by some people call'd a man, a beau, a fine gentleman, a smart fellow; and by others a coxcomb, a puppy, a baboon and an ass.
LOVEYET.
And what of him?
FRANKTON.
Nothing; only he visits Miss Harriet frequently.
LOVEYET.
Hah!--and does she countenance his addresses?
FRANKTON.
I'll explain.--He imagines she is fond of him, because she does not actually discard him; upon which presumption he titters, capers, vows, bows, talks scraps of French, and sings an amorous lay--with such an irresistibly languishing air, that she cannot do less than compliment him--on the fineness of his voice, for instance; the smartness of his repartees, the brilliancy of his wit, the gaiety and vivacity of his temper, his genteel carriage, his handsome person, his winning address, his----
LOVEYET.
Hah! you surely cannot be in earnest, Frankton.
FRANKTON.
To be serious then,--the sum total of the affair, I take to be this.--In order to kill a heavy hour, she sometimes suffers the fool to be in her company, because the extravagance of his behaviour, and the emptiness of his upper region furnish her with a good subject for ridicule; but your presence will soon make him dwindle into his primitive insignificance.
LOVEYET.
If your prediction proves false,
Harriet will be false indeed;--but I must see her straightway.
FRANKTON.
I think you go pretty well fraught with the fruits of our united deliberations.
LOVEYET.
Deliberations!--away with the musty term--
No caution need my willing footsteps guide;--
When Love impels--what evil can betide?
Patriots may fear, their rulers lack more zeal,
And nobly tremble for the public weal;
To front the battle, and to fear no harm,
The shield must glitter on the warrior's arm:
Let such dull prudence their designs attend,
But Love, unaided, shall obtain its end!
[Exeunt.] _
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