Richard Brinsley Sheridan

“ O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius.
FAULKLAND
Nay, if Mr. Acres is so bent on the matter——
ACRES
No, no, Mr. Faulkland;—I'll bear my disappointment like a
Christian.—Look'ee, Sir Lucius, there's no occasion at all for me to
fight; and if it is the same to you, I'd as lieve let it alone.
Sir LUCIUS Observe me, Mr. Acres—I must not be trifled with. You have certainly challenged somebody—and you came here to fight him. Now, if that gentleman is willing to represent him—I can't see, for my soul, why it isn't just the same thing. ”

“ ACRES Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart! I believe courage must be catching! I certainly do feel a kind of valour rising as it were—a kind of courage, as I may say.—Odds flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly.
Sir LUCIUS Ah, my little friend, if I had Blunderbuss Hall here, I could show you a range of ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would furnish the new room; every one of whom had killed his man!—For though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers, I thank heaven our honour and the family-pictures are as fresh as ever. ”

“ LYDIA Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.
Mrs. MALAPROP But I say it is, miss; there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed—and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.
Sir ANTHONY Why sure she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not!—ay, this comes of her reading! ”

“ ACRES
——Stay—stay, Jack.—If Beverley should ask you what kind of a man
your friend Acres is, do tell him I am a devil of a fellow—will you,
Jack?
ABSOLUTE
To be sure I shall. I'll say you are a determined dog—hey, Bob!
ACRES Ah, do, do—and if that frightens him, egad, perhaps he mayn't come. So tell him I generally kill a man a week; will you, Jack?
ABSOLUTE
I will, I will; I'll say you are called in the country Fighting Bob.
ACRES Right—right—'tis all to prevent mischief; for I don't want to take his life if I clear my honour. ”

“ ACRES
Out, you poltroon! you ha'n't the valour of a grasshopper.
DAVID Well, I say no more—'twill be sad news, to be sure, at Clod-Hall! but I ha' done.—How Phillis will howl when she hears of it!—Ay, poor bitch, she little thinks what shooting her master's going after! And I warrant old Crop, who has carried your honour, field and road, these ten years, will curse the hour he was born. [Whimpering.]
ACRES It won't do, David—I am determined to fight—so get along you coward, while I'm in the mind.
[Enter SERVANT.]
SERVANT
Captain Absolute, sir.
ACRES
Oh! show him up. ”

“ FAULKLAND Well, then—shall I own to you that my joy at hearing of your health and arrival here, by your neighbour Acres, was somewhat damped by his dwelling much on the high spirits you had enjoyed in Devonshire—on your mirth—your singing—dancing, and I know not what! For such is my temper, Julia, that I should regard every mirthful moment in your absence as a treason to constancy. The mutual tear that steals down the cheek of parting lovers is a compact, that no smile shall live there till they meet again. ”

“ FAG Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well—'tis a good lounge; in the morning we go to the pump-room (though neither my master nor I drink the waters) ; after breakfast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards; at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: their regular hours stupify me—not a fiddle nor a card after eleven!—However, Mr. Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private parties;—I'll introduce you there, Thomas—you'll like him much.
THOMAS
Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne—you know his master is to marry Madam Julia. ”

“ FAULKLAND 'Twill be better I should not venture out again till dark. Yet am I grieved to think what numberless distresses will press heavy on your gentle disposition!
JULIA Perhaps your fortune may be forfeited by this unhappy act.—I know not whether 'tis so; but sure that alone can never make us unhappy. The little I have will be sufficient to support us; and exile never should be splendid.
FAULKLAND Ay, but in such an abject state of life, my wounded pride perhaps may increase the natural fretfulness of my temper, till I become a rude, morose companion, beyond your patience to endure. ”

“ JULIA If I were in spirits, Lydia, I should chide you only by laughing heartily at you; but it suits more the situation of my mind, at present, earnestly to entreat you not to let a man, who loves you with sincerity, suffer that unhappiness from your caprice, which I know too well caprice can inflict.
LYDIA
O Lud! what has brought my aunt here?
[Enter Mrs. MALAPROP, FAG, and DAVID.]
Mrs. MALAPROP So! so! here's fine work!—here's fine suicide, parricide, and simulation, going on in the fields! and Sir Anthony not to be found to prevent the antistrophe! ”

“ 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. ”

“ Sir LUCIUS That's no argument at all—he has the less right then to take such a liberty.
ACRES Gad, that's true—I grow full of anger, Sir Lucius!—I fire apace! Odds hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right of my side?
Sir LUCIUS What the devil signifies right, when your honour is concerned? Do you think Achilles, or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay? ”

“ Sir ANTHONY I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of.
ABSOLUTE Then, sir, I must tell you plainly that my inclinations are fixed on another—my heart is engaged to an angel.
Sir ANTHONY Then pray let it send an excuse. It is very sorry—but business prevents its waiting on her.
ABSOLUTE
But my vows are pledged to her.
Sir ANTHONY Let her foreclose, Jack; let her foreclose; they are not worth redeeming; besides, you have the angel's vows in exchange, I suppose; so there can be no loss there. ”

“ FAULKLAND Well, well, I'll contain myself—perhaps as you say—for form sake.—What, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville's manner of dancing a minuet—hey?
ACRES Oh, I dare insure her for that—but what I was going to speak of was her country-dancing. Odds swimmings! she has such an air with her!
FAULKLAND Now disappointment on her!—Defend this, Absolute; why don't you defend this?—Country-dances! jigs and reels! am I to blame now? A minuet I could have forgiven—I should not have minded that—I say I should not have regarded a minuet—but country-dances!—Zounds! ”

“ 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. ”

“ Oons! what will the old lady say, when she hears o't?
ACRES Ah! David, if you had heard Sir Lucius!—Odds sparks and flames! he would have roused your valour.
DAVID Not he, indeed. I hate such bloodthirsty cormorants. Look'ee, master, if you wanted a bout at boxing, quarter staff, or short-staff, I should never be the man to bid you cry off: but for your curst sharps and snaps, I never knew any good come of 'em.
ACRES
But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour. ”

“ O Jack! when delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension!
ABSOLUTE
Ay, but we may choose whether we will take the hint or not.—So, then,
Faulkland, if you were convinced that Julia were well and in spirits,
you would be entirely content?
FAULKLAND
I should be happy beyond measure—I am anxious only for that.
ABSOLUTE Then to cure your anxiety at once—Miss Melville is in perfect health, and is at this moment in Bath. ”

“ JULIA Where nature has bestowed a show of nice attention in the features of a man, he should laugh at it as misplaced. I have seen men, who in this vain article, perhaps, might rank above you; but my heart has never asked my eyes if it were so or not.
FAULKLAND Now this is not well from you, Julia—I despise person in a man—yet if you loved me as I wish, though I were an AEthiop, you'd think none so fair.
JULIA I see you are determined to be unkind! The contract which my poor father bound us in gives you more than a lover's privilege. ”

“ Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the names
before. Yet, stay—I think I do recollect something. Languish!
Languish! She squints, don't she? A little red-haired girl?
Sir ANTHONY
Squints! A red-haired girl! Zounds! no.
ABSOLUTE
Then I must have forgot; it can't be the same person.
Sir ANTHONY
Jack! Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen?
ABSOLUTE As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent. If I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire.
Sir ANTHONY Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! ”

“ LYDIA Well, Julia, you are your own mistress, (though under the protection of Sir Anthony) , yet have you, for this long year, been a slave to the caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will ever delay assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to be equally imperious as a lover. ”

“ MALAPROP Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman; for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning—neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments.—But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. ”

“ FAULKLAND You see before you a wretch, whose life is forfeited. Nay, start not!—the infirmity of my temper has drawn all this misery on me. I left you fretful and passionate—an untoward accident drew me into a quarrel—the event is, that I must fly this kingdom instantly. O Julia, had I been so fortunate as to have called you mine entirely, before this mischance had fallen on me, I should not so deeply dread my banishment! ”

“ ABSOLUTE Cease your impertinence, sir, at present.—Did you come in for nothing more?—Stand out of the way! [Pushes him aside, and exit.]
FAG So! Sir Anthony trims my master; he is afraid to reply to his father—then vents his spleen on poor Fag!—When one is vexed by one person, to revenge one's self on another, who happens to come in the way, is the vilest injustice! Ah! it shows the worst temper—the basest——
[Enter BOY.]
BOY
Mr. Fag! Mr. Fag! your master calls you.
FAG Well, you little dirty puppy, you need not bawl so!—The meanest disposition! ”

“ FAULKLAND Well, sir, but you was saying that Miss Melville has been so exceedingly well—what then she has been merry and gay, I suppose?—Always in spirits—hey?
ACRES Merry, odds crickets! she has been the belle and spirit of the company wherever she has been—so lively and entertaining! so full of wit and humour!
FAULKLAND There, Jack, there.—Oh, by my soul! there is an innate levity in woman, that nothing can overcome.—What! ”

“ JULIA Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were contracted before my father's death. That, and some consequent embarrassments, have delayed what I know to be my Faulkland's most ardent wish. He is too generous to trifle on such a point:—and for his character, you wrong him there, too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble to be jealous; if he is captious, 'tis without dissembling; if fretful, without rudeness. Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the little duties expected from a lover—but being unhackneyed in the passion, his affection is ardent and sincere ”