The Belle's Stratagem

THE BELLE'S   STRATAGEM, The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Belle's Stratagem This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org . If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title : The Belle's Stratagem Author : Hannah Cowley Release date : December 8, 2014 [eBook #47604] Most recently updated: October 24, 2024 Language : English Other information and formats : www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47604 Credits : E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau and the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM *** The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Belle's Stratagem, by Hannah Cowley THE BELLE'S   STRATAGEM, A COMEDY, AS ACTED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL I N COVENT-GARDEN. By Mrs. COWLEY . LONDON : Printed for T. Cadell , in the Strand . 1782. TO THE QUEEN . MADAM , In the following Comedy, my purpose was, to draw a Female Character , which with the most lively Sensibility, fine Understanding, and elegant Accomplishments, should unite that beautiful Reserve and Delicacy which, whilst they veil those charms, render them still more interesting. In delineating such a Character, my heart naturally dedicated it to Your Majesty ; and nothing remained, but permission to lay it at Your feet. Your Majesty's graciously allowing me this high Honour, is the point to which my hopes aspired, and a reward, of which without censure I may be proud. MADAM , With the warmest wishes for the continuance of your Majesty's felicity, I am YOUR MAJESTY 's Most devoted and most dutiful Servant, H. Cowley . DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. MEN. Doricourt , Mr. Lewis . Hardy , Mr. Quick . Sir George Touchwood , Mr. Wroughton . Flutter , Mr. Lee Lewes . Saville , Mr. Aickin . Villers , Mr. Whitfield . Courtall , Mr. Robson . Silvertongue , Mr. W. Bates . Crowquill , Mr. Jones . First Gentleman , Mr. Thompson . Second Gentleman , Mr. L'Estrange . Mountebank , Mr. Booth . French Servant , Mr. Wewitzer . Porter , Mr. Fearon . Dick , Mr. Stevens . WOMEN. Letitia Hardy , Miss Younge . Mrs. Racket , Mrs. Mattocks . Lady Frances Touchwood , Mrs. Hartley . Miss Ogle , Mrs. Morton . Kitty Willis , Miss Stewart . Lady , Mrs. Poussin . Masqueraders, Tradesmen, Servants, &c. THE BELLE'S STRATAGEM. A C T  I. SCENE I .— Lincoln's-Inn. Enter Saville, followed by a Servant, at the top of the stage, looking round, as if at a loss . Saville. Lincoln's-Inn!—Well, but where to find him, now I am in Lincoln's-Inn?—Where did he say his Master was? Serv. He only said in Lincoln's-Inn, Sir. Sav. That's pretty! And your wisdom never enquired at whose chambers? Serv. Sir, you spoke to the servant yourself. Sav. If I was too impatient to ask questions, you ought to have taken directions, blockhead! Enter Courtall singing . Ha, Courtall!—Bid him keep the horses in motion, and then enquire at all the chambers round. [ Exit servant. What the devil brings you to this part of the town?—Have any of the Long Robes, handsome wives, sisters or chambermaids? Court. Perhaps they have;—but I came on a different errand; and, had thy good fortune brought thee here half an hour sooner, I'd have given thee such a treat, ha! ha! ha! Sav. I'm sorry I miss'd it: what was it? Court. I was informed a few days since, that my cousins Fallow were come to town, and desired earnestly to see me at their lodgings in Warwick-Court, Holborn. Away drove I, painting them all the way as so many Hebes. They came from the farthest part of Northumberland, had never been in town, and in course were made up of rusticity, innocence, and beauty. Sav. Well! Court. After waiting thirty minutes, during which there was a violent bustle, in bounced five fallow damsels, four of them maypoles;—the fifth, Nature, by way of variety, had bent in the Æsop style.—But they all opened at once, like hounds on a fresh scent:—"Oh, cousin Courtall!—How do you do, cousin Courtall! Lord, cousin, I am glad you are come! We want you to go with us to the Park, and the Plays, and the Opera, and Almack's, and all the fine places!" —— The devil, thought I, my dears, may attend you, for I am sure I won't.—However, I heroically stayed an hour with them, and discovered, the virgins were all come to town with the hopes of leaving it—Wives:—their heads full of Knight-Baronights, Fops, and adventures. Sav. Well, how did you get off? Court. Oh, pleaded a million engagements. —— However, conscience twitched me; so I breakfasted with them this morning, and afterwards 'squired them to the gardens here, as the most private place in town; and then took a sorrowful leave, complaining of my hard, hard fortune, that obliged me to set off immediately for Dorsetshire, ha! ha! ha! Sav. I congratulate your escape!—Courtall at Almack's, with five aukward country cousins! ha! ha! ha!—Why, your existence, as a Man of Gallantry, could never have survived it. Court. Death, and fire! had they come to town, like the rustics of the last age, to see Paul's, the Lions, and the Wax-work—at their service;—but the cousins of our days come up Ladies—and, with the knowledge they glean from magazines and pocket-books, Fine Ladies; laugh at the bashfulness of their grandmothers, and boldly demand their entrées in the first circles. Sav. Where can this fellow be!—Come, give me some news—I have been at war with woodcocks and partridges these two months, and am a stranger to all that has passed out of their region. Court. Oh! enough for three Gazettes. The Ladies are going to petition for a bill, that, during the war, every man may be allowed Two Wives. Sav. 'Tis impossible they should succeed, for the majority of both Houses know what it is to have one. Court. Gallantry was black-ball'd at the Coterie last Thursday, and Prudence and Chastity voted in. Sav. Ay, that may hold 'till the Camps break up.—But have ye no elopements? no divorces? Court. Divorces are absolutely out, and the Commons-Doctors starving; so they are publishing trials of Crim. Con. with all the separate evidences at large; which they find has always a wonderful effect on their trade, actions tumbling in upon them afterwards, like mackarel at Gravesend. Sav. What more? Court. Nothing—for weddings, deaths, and politics, I never talk of, but whilst my hair is dressing. But prithee, Saville, how came you in town, whilst all the qualified gentry are playing at pop-gun on Coxheath, and the country over-run with hares and foxes? Sav. I came to meet my friend Doricourt, who, you know, is lately arrived from Rome. Court. Arrived! Yes, faith, and has cut us all out!—His carriage, his liveries, his dress, himself, are the rage of the day! His first appearance set the whole Ton in a ferment, and his valet is besieged by levées of taylors, habit-makers, and other Ministers of Fashion, to gratify the impatience of their customers for becoming à la mode de Doricourt . Nay, the beautiful Lady Frolic, t'other night, with two sister Countesses, insisted upon his waistcoat for muffs; and their snowy arms now bear it in triumph about town, to the heart-rending affliction of all our Beaux Garçons . Sav. Indeed! Well, those little gallantries will soon be over; he's on the point of marriage. Court. Marriage! Doricourt on the point of marriage! 'Tis the happiest tidings you could have given, next to his being hanged—Who is the Bride elect? Sav. I never saw her; but 'tis Miss Hardy, the rich heiress—the match was made by the parents, and the courtship begun on their nurses knees; Master used to crow at Miss, and Miss used to chuckle at Master. Court. Oh! then by this time they care no more for each other, than I do for my country cousins. Sav. I don't know that; they have never met since thus high, and so, probably, have some regard for each other. Court. Never met! Odd! Sav. A whim of Mr. Hardy's; he thought his daughter's charms would make a more forcible impression, if her lover remained in ignorance of them 'till his return from the Continent. Enter Saville's Servant . Serv. Mr. Doricourt, Sir, has been at Counsellor Pleadwell's, and gone about five minutes. [ Exit Servant. Serv. Five minutes! Zounds! I have been five minutes too late all my life-time!—Good morrow, Courtall; I must pursue him. ( Going. ) Court. Promise to dine with me to-day; I have some honest fellows. ( Going off on the opposite side. ) Sav. Can't promise; perhaps I may.—See there, there's a bevy of female Patagonians, coming down upon us. Court. By the Lord, then, it must be my strapping cousins.—I dare not look behind me—Run, man, run. [ Exit, on the same side. SCENE II .— A Hall at Doricourt' s . ( A gentle knock at the door. ) Enter the Porter. Port. Tap! What sneaking devil art thou? ( Opens the door. ) Enter Crowquill. So! I suppose you are one of Monsieur's customers too? He's above stairs, now, overhauling all his Honour's things to a parcel of 'em. Crowq. No, Sir; it is with you, if you please, that I want to speak. Port. Me! Well, what do you want with me? Crowq. Sir, you must know that I am—I am the Gentleman who writes the Tête-à-têtes in the Magazines. Port. Oh, oh!—What, you are the fellow that ties folks together, in your sixpenny cuts, that never meet any where else? Crowq. Oh, dear Sir, excuse me!—we always go on foundation ; and if you can help me to a few anecdotes of your master, such as what Marchioness he lost money to, in Paris—who is his favourite Lady in town—or the name of the Girl he first made love to at College—or any incidents that happened to his Grandmother, or Great aunts—a couple will do, by way of supporters—I'll weave a web of intrigues, losses, and gallantries, between them, that shall fill four pages, procure me a dozen dinners, and you, Sir, a bottle of wine for your trouble. Port. Oh, oh! I heard the butler talk of you, when I lived at Lord Tinket's. But what the devil do you mean by a bottle of wine!—You gave him a crown for a retaining fee. Crowq. Oh, Sir, that was for a Lord's amours; a Commoner's are never but half. Why, I have had a Baronet's for five shillings, though he was a married man, and changed his mistress every six weeks. Port. Don't tell me! What signifies a Baronet, or a bit of a Lord, who, may be, was never further than sun and fun round London? We have travelled, man! My master has been in Italy, and over the whole island of Spain; talked to the Queen of France, and danced with her at a masquerade. Ay, and such folks don't go to masquerades for nothing; but mum—not a word more—Unless you'll rank my master with a Lord, I'll not be guilty of blabbing his secrets, I assure you. Crowq. Well, Sir, perhaps you'll throw in a hint or two of other families, where you've lived, that may be worked up into something; and so, Sir, here is one, two, three, four, five shillings. Port. Well, that's honest, ( pocketing the money. ) To tell you the truth, I don't know much of my master's concerns yet;—but here comes Monsieur and his gang: I'll pump them: they have trotted after him all round Europe, from the Canaries to the Isle of Wight. Enter several foreign Servants and two Tradesmen. ( The Porter takes one of them aside. ) Tradesm. Well then, you have shew'd us all? Frenchm. All, en vérité, Messieurs! you avez seen every ting. Serviteur, serviteur. [ Exeunt Tradesmen. Ah, here comes one autre curious Englishman, and dat's one autre guinea pour moi . Enter Saville. Allons, Monsieur , dis way; I will shew you tings, such tings you never see, begar, in England!—velvets by Le Mosse, suits cut by Verdue, trimmings by Grossette, embroidery by Detanville —— Sav. Puppy!—where is your Master? Port. Zounds! you chattering frog-eating dunderhead, can't you see a Gentleman?—'Tis Mr. Saville. Frenchm. Monsieur Saville! Je suis mort de peur. —Ten tousand pardons! Excusez mon erreur , and permit me you conduct to Monsieur Doricourt; he be too happy à vous voir . [ Exeunt Frenchman and Saville. Port. Step below a bit;—we'll make it out some-how!—I suppose a slice of sirloin won't make the story go down the worse. [ Exeunt Porter and Crowquill. SCENE III .— An Apartment at Doricourt' s. Enter Doricourt. Doric. ( speaking to a servant behind ) I shall be too late for St. James's; bid him come immediately. Enter Frenchman and Saville. Frenchm. Monsieur Saville. [ Exit Frenchman. Doric. Most fortunate! My dear Saville, let the warmth of this embrace speak the pleasure of my heart. Sav. Well, this is some comfort, after the scurvy reception I met with in your hall.—I prepared my mind, as I came up stairs, for a bon jour , a grimace, and an adieu . Doric. Why so? Sav. Judging of the master from the rest of the family. What the devil is the meaning of that flock of foreigners below, with their parchment faces and snuffy whiskers? What! can't an Englishman stand behind your carriage, buckle your shoe, or brush your coat? Doric. Stale, my dear Saville, stale! Englishmen make the best Soldiers, Citizens, Artizans, and Philosophers in the world; but the very worst Footmen. I keep French fellows and Germans, as the Romans kept slaves; because their own countrymen had minds too enlarged and haughty to descend with a grace to the duties of such a station. Sav. A good excuse for a bad practice. Doric. On my honour, experience will convince you of its truth. A Frenchman neither hears, sees, nor breathes, but as his master directs; and his whole system of conduct is compris'd in one short word, Obedience ! An Englishman reasons, forms opinions, cogitates, and disputes; he is the mere creature of your will: the other, a being, conscious of equal importance in the universal scale with yourself, and is therefore your judge, whilst he wears your livery, and decides on your actions with the freedom of a censor. Sav. And this in defence of a custom I have heard you execrate, together with all the adventitious manners imported by our Travell'd Gentry. Doric. Ay, but that was at eighteen; we are always very wise at eighteen. But consider this point: we go into Italy, where the sole business of the people is to study and improve the powers of Music: we yield to the fascination, and grow enthusiasts in the charming science: we travel over France, and see the whole kingdom composing ornaments, and inventing Fashions: we condescend to avail ourselves of their industry, and adopt their modes: we return to England, and find the nation intent on the most important objects; Polity, Commerce, War, with all the Liberal Arts, employ her sons; the latent sparks glow afresh within our bosoms; the sweet follies of the Continent imperceptibly slide away, whilst Senators, Statesmen, Patriots and Heroes, emerge from the virtû of Italy, and the frippery of France. Sav. I may as well give it up! You had always the art of placing your faults in the best light; and I can't help loving you, faults and all: so, to start a subject which must please you, When do you expect Miss Hardy? Doric. Oh, the hour of expectation is past. She is arrived, and I this morning had the honour of an interview at Pleadwell's. The writings were ready; and, in obedience to the will of Mr. Hardy, we met to sign and seal. Sav. Has the event answered? Did your heart leap, or sink, when you beheld your Mistress? Doric. Faith, neither one nor t'other; she's a fine girl, as far as mere flesh and blood goes. —— But —— Sav. But what? Doric. Why, she's only a fine girl; complexion, shape, and features; nothing more. Sav. Is not that enough? Doric. No! she should have spirit! fire! l'air enjoué! that something, that nothing, which every body feels, and which no body can describe, in the resistless charmers of Italy and France. Sav. Thanks to the parsimony of my father, that kept me from travel! I would not have lost my relish for true unaffected English beauty, to have been quarrell'd for by all the Belles of Versailles and Florence. Doric. Pho! thou hast no taste. English beauty! 'Tis insipidity; it wants the zest, it wants poignancy, Frank! Why, I have known a Frenchwoman, indebted to nature for no one thing but a pair of decent eyes, reckon in her suite as many Counts, Marquisses, and Petits Maîtres , as would satisfy three dozen of our first-rate toasts. I have known an Italian Marquizina make ten conquests in stepping from her carriage, and carry her slaves from one city to another, whose real intrinsic beauty would have yielded to half the little Grisettes that pace your Mall on a Sunday. Sav. And has Miss Hardy nothing of this? Doric. If she has, she was pleased to keep it to herself. I was in the room half an hour before I could catch the colour of her eyes; and every attempt to draw her into conversation occasioned so cruel an embarrassment, that I was reduced to the necessity of news, French fleets, and Spanish captures, with her father. Sav. So Miss Hardy, with only beauty, modesty, and merit, is doom'd to the arms of a husband who will despise her. Doric. You are unjust. Though she has not inspir'd me with violent passion, my honour secures her felicity. Sav. Come, come, Doricourt, you know very well that when the honour of a husband is locum-tenens for his heart, his wife must be as indifferent as himself, if she is not unhappy. Doric. Pho! never moralise without spectacles. But, as we are upon the tender subject, how did you bear Touchwood's carrying Lady Frances? Sav. You know I never look'd up to her with hope, and Sir George is every way worthy of her. Doric. A la mode Angloise , a philosopher even in love. Sav. Come, I detain you—you seem dress'd at all points, and of course have an engagement. Doric. To St. James's. I dine at Hardy's, and accompany them to the masquerade in the evening: but breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk of our old companions; for I swear to you, Saville, the air of the Continent has not effaced one youthful prejudice or attachment. Sav. —With an exception to the case of Ladies and Servants. Doric. True; there I plead guilty:—but I have never yet found any man whom I could cordially take to my heart, and call Friend, who was not born beneath a British sky, and whose heart and manners were not truly English. [ Exit Doricourt and Saville. SCENE IV .— An Apartment at Mr. Hardy' s . Villers seated on a sopha, reading . Enter Flutter. Flut. Hah, Villers, have you seen Mrs. Racket? —— Miss Hardy, I find, is out. Vill. I have not seen her yet. I have made a voyage to Lapland since I came in. ( flinging away the book. ) A Lady at her toilette is as difficult to be moved, as a Quaker, ( yawning ). What events have happened in the world since yesterday? have you heard? Flut. Oh, yes; I stopt at Tattersall's as I came by, and there I found Lord James Jessamy, Sir William Wilding, and Mr. —— . But, now I think of it, you sha'n't know a syllable of the matter; for I have been informed you never believe above one half of what I say. Vill. My dear fellow, somebody has imposed upon you most egregiously!—Half! Why, I never believe one tenth part of what you say; that is, according to the plain and literal expression: but, as I understand you, your intelligence is amusing. Flut. That's very hard now, very hard. I never related a falsity in my life, unless I stumbled on it by mistake; and if it were otherwise, your dull matter-of-fact people are infinitely oblig'd to those warm imaginations which soar into fiction to amuse you; for, positively, the common events of this little dirty world are not worth talking about, unless you embellish 'em! —— Hah! here comes Mrs. Racket: Adieu to weeds, I see! All life! Enter Mrs. Racket. Enter, Madam, in all your charms! Villers has been abusing your toilette for keeping you so long; but I think we are much oblig'd to it, and so are you. Mrs. Rack. How so, pray? Good-morning t'ye both. Here, here's a hand a-piece for you. ( They kiss her hands. ) Flut. How so! Because it has given you so many beauties. Mrs. Rack. Delightful compliment! What do you think of that, Villers? Vill. That he and his compliments are alike—shewy, but won't bear examining. —— So you brought Miss Hardy to town last night? Mrs. Rack. Yes, I should have brought her before, but I had a fall from my horse, that confined me a week.—I suppose in her heart she wished me hanged a dozen times an hour. Flut. Why? Mrs. Rack. Had she not an expecting Lover in town all the time? She meets him this morning at the Lawyer's.—I hope she'll charm him; she's the sweetest girl in the world. Vill. Vanity, like murder, will out.—You have convinced me you think yourself more charming. Mrs. Rack. How can that be? Vill. No woman ever praises another, unless she thinks herself superior in the very perfections she allows. Flut. Nor no man ever rails at the sex, unless he is conscious he deserves their hatred. Mrs. Rack. Thank ye, Flutter—I'll owe ye a bouquet for that. I am going to visit the new-married Lady Frances Touchwood.—Who knows her husband? Flut. Every body. Mrs. Rack. Is there not something odd in his character? Vill. Nothing, but that he is passionately fond of his wife;—and so petulant is his love, that he open'd the cage of a favourite Bullfinch, and sent it to catch Butterflies, because she rewarded its song with her kisses. Mrs. Rack. Intolerable monster! Such a brute deserves —— Vill. Nay, nay, nay, nay, this is your sex now —— Give a woman but one stroke of character, off she goes, like a ball from a racket; sees the whole man, marks him down for an angel or a devil, and so exhibits him to her acquaintance.—This monster! this brute! is one of the worthiest fellows upon earth; sound sense, and a liberal mind; but doats on his wife to such excess, that he quarrels with every thing she admires, and is jealous of her tippet and nosegay. Mrs. Rack. Oh, less love for me, kind Cupid! I can see no difference between the torment of such an affection, and hatred. Flut. Oh, pardon me, inconceivable difference, inconceivable; I see it as clearly as your bracelet. In the one case the husband would say, as Mr. Snapper said t'other day, Zounds! Madam, do you suppose that my table, and my house, and my pictures!— A-propos, des Bottes. There was the divinest Plague of Athens sold yesterday at Langford's! the dead figures so natural, you would have sworn they had been alive! Lord Primrose bid Five hundred—Six, said Lady Carmine.—A thousand, said Ingot the Nabob.—Down went the hammer.—A rouleau for your bargain, said Sir Jeremy Jingle. And what answer do you think Ingot made him? Mrs. Racket. Why, took the offer. Flut. Sir, I would oblige you, but I buy this picture to place in the nursery: the children have already got Whittington and his Cat; 'tis just this size, and they'll make good companions. Mrs. Rack. Ha! ha! ha! Well, I protest that's just the way now—the Nabobs and their wives outbid one at every sale, and the creatures have no more taste —— Vill. There again! You forget this story is told by Flutter, who always remembers every thing but the circumstances and the person he talks about:—'twas Ingot who offer'd a rouleau for the bargain, and Sir Jeremy Jingle who made the reply. Flut. Egad, I believe you are right.—Well, the story is as good one way as t'other, you know. Good morning. I am going to Mrs. Crotchet's concert, and in my way back shall make my bow at Sir George's. ( Going. ) Vill. I'll venture every figure in your taylor's bill, you make some blunder there. Flut. ( turning back ) Done! My taylor's bill has not been paid these two years; and I'll open my mouth with as much care as Mrs. Bridget Button, who wears cork plumpers in each cheek, and never hazards more than six words for fear of shewing them. [ Exit Flutter. Mrs. Rack. 'Tis a good-natur'd insignificant creature! let in every where, and cared for no where.—There's Miss Hardy return'd from Lincoln's-Inn:—she seems rather chagrin'd. Vill. Then I leave you to your communications. Enter Letitia, followed by her Maid . Adieu! I am rejoiced to see you so well, Madam! but I must tear myself away. Letit. Don't vanish in a moment. Vill. Oh, inhuman! you are two of the most dangerous women in town.—Staying here to be cannonaded by four such eyes, is equal to a rencontre with Paul Jones, or a midnight march to Omoa!—They'll swallow the nonsense for the sake of the compliment. ( Aside. ) [ Exit Villers. Letit. ( gives her cloak to her maid. ) Order Du Quesne never to come again; he shall positively dress my hair no more. [ Exit Maid. ] And this odious silk, how unbecoming it is!—I was bewitched to chuse it. ( Throwing herself on a sopha, and looking in a pocket-glass, Mrs. Racket staring at her .) Did you ever see such a fright as I am to-day? Mrs. Rack. Yes, I have seen you look much worse. Letit. How can you be so provoking? If I do not look this morning worse than ever I look'd in my life, I am naturally a fright. You shall have it which way you will. Mrs. Rack. Just as you please; but pray what is the meaning of all this? Letit. ( rising. ) Men are all dissemblers! flatterers! deceivers! Have I not heard a thousand times of my air, my eyes, my shape—all made for victory! and to-day, when I bent my whole heart on one poor conquest, I have proved that all those imputed charms amount to nothing;—for Doricourt saw them unmov'd.—A husband of fifteen months could not have examined me with more cutting indifference. Mrs. Rack. Then you return it like a wife of fifteen months, and be as indifferent as he. Letit. Aye, there's the sting! The blooming boy, who left his image in my young heart, is at four and twenty improv'd in every grace that fix'd him there. It is the same face that my memory, and my dreams, constantly painted to me; but its graces are finished, and every beauty heightened. How mortifying, to feel myself at the same moment his slave, and an object of perfect indifference to him! Mrs. Rack. How are you certain that was the case? Did you expect him to kneel down before the lawyer, his clerks, and, your father, to make oath of your beauty? Letit. No; but he should have look'd as if a sudden ray had pierced him! he should have been breathless! speechless! for, oh! Caroline, all this was I. Mrs. Rack. I am sorry you was such a fool. Can you expect a man, who has courted and been courted by half the fine women in Europe, to feel like a girl from a boarding-school? He is the prettiest fellow you have seen, and in course bewilders your imagination; but he has seen a million of pretty women, child, before he saw you; and his first feelings have been over long ago. Letit. Your raillery distresses me; but I will touch his heart, or never be his wife. Mrs. Rack. Absurd, and romantic! If you have no reason to believe his heart pre-engaged, be satisfied; if he is a man of honour, you'll have nothing to complain of. Letit. Nothing to complain of! Heav'ns! shall I marry the man I adore, with such an expectation as that? Mrs. Rack. And when you have fretted yourself pale, my dear, you'll have mended your expectation greatly. Letit. ( pausing. ) Yet I have one hope. If there is any power whose peculiar care is faithful love, that power I invoke to aid me.

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