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The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can! Part 11

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_Louisa._ I know not--return to lady Waitfor't's again, I will not--I had rather be a wanderer all my life--to lady Walton's there is no excuse for returning, and I know no friend in Bath I dare intrude upon.--I have so high an opinion, Mr Floriville, of your honour, that, notwithstanding your present situation, there is no man on earth I would sooner confide in;--can you then think of any place where I may rest in safety for a few hours, and then I will set out for my uncle's in the country.

_Flor._ Indeed I cannot, I am a wanderer myself;--I have no home but what this gentleman is to purchase me [_Taking out his purse._]--you cannot partake of that.

_Louisa._ Oh! what will become of me?

_Flor._ Let me see--I have it--I'll take her to my brother's;--she'll be safe there, and not a soul shall come near her.--Well, Miss Courtney,--I have recollected a place where I know you'll be safe--a friend's house, that will be as secure--nay, don't droop--in Italy we're never melancholy.

_Louisa._ Oh, Mr Floriville, to what a hazard has lady Waitfor't exposed me!--to her perfidy I owe it all--but yonder's that wretch again--pray let us begone.

_Flor._ Belzebub again,--no, no, we mustn't stir;--what! an angel fly from a devil? damme, I'll stay and crush him.

_Louisa._ Nay, sir, reflect,--'twere madness to remain.

_Flor._ 'Faith that's true; I believe it's braver to retire,--therefore, Tarquin, adieu; come, my best angel! I'll fight your battles, and if I don't sink all your enemies, may I never see Italy again as long as I live! [_Exeunt._

_Enter WILLOUGHBY._

_Willoughby._ Ha! gone,--I am sorry for it--I would have seen them--lady Waitfor't has just left me, and treated me like her slave,--insulted and derided me; but I'll have done with her for ever,--I'll be her dupe no more;--she is now gone to Neville's lodgings, under pretence of pursuing Louisa, but, in fact, to see him, and prevent his leaving Bath;--this I will write to my lord, and then let him follow, and be witness of her infamy;--thus, I hope, I shall make some reparation for the wrongs I have committed, and prove at last I have some sense of virtue. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_NEVILLE'S Lodgings--A Closet in back Scene.--Two Chairs, and a Table, with Wine on it.--A knocking at the Door._

_Enter PETER, reading a Card._

_Peter._ _Vapid presents his compliments to his friend Neville; has thought of nothing but writing the epilogue for his friend's play since they parted; he has made great progress, and will wait on him to take his judgment on it in a few minutes._ If the gentleman should come soon, I fear my master won't be at home to receive him.

[_Knocks.--PETER opens the Door, and lets in VAPID._

_Vapid._ Well, here it is;--where's Neville?

_Peter._ Not within, sir.

_Vapid._ Yes, yes, here it is:--I must see him.

_Peter._ Sir, he's gone out.

_Vapid._ Gone out? impossible!

_Peter._ Impossible! it's very true, sir.

_Vapid._ Gone out! why, I've brought him the epilogue--the new epilogue to Mr What's-his-name's comedy; the very best thing I ever wrote in my life; I knew it would delight him.

_Peter._ Sir, he has been gone out above these two hours.

_Vapid._ Then he'll never forgive himself as long as he lives; why, it's all correct--all chaste! only one half line wanting at the end to make it complete.

_Peter._ Indeed, sir, it's very unfortunate.

_Vapid._ Unfortunate! I wanted to have heard him read it too; when another person reads it, one often hits on a thought that might otherwise have escaped; then, perhaps, he would have hit on that cursed half line, I have so long been working at.

_Peter._ Sir, if it is not impertinent, and you'd permit me to read it--

_Vapid._ You read it!

_Peter._ Yes, sir, if you'd allow me that honour.

_Vapid._ 'Faith, I should have no objection,--but wouldn't it lower one's dignity? No, no, Moliere used to read his plays to his servants, so I believe all's regular.--Come, sir, begin.

[_PETER reading Epilogue._

In ancient times, when agonizing wars, And bleeding nations, fill'd the world with jars; When murder, battle, sudden death, prevail'd, When----

_Vapid._ Stop--stop--I have it: not a word for your life; I feel it--it's coming on--the last line directly--quick! quick!

[_PETER reads._

The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, Die all, die n.o.bly!----

_Peter._ Here's something wanting, sir.

_Vapid._ I know it, say nothing--I have it-- [_Walks backwards and forwards._

The tyrant totters, and the senate nods, Die all, die n.o.bly!----

Oh, d.a.m.n it! d.a.m.n it! d.a.m.n it!--that cursed half line!--I shall never accomplish it--all so chaste--all so correct,--and to have it marr'd for want of one half line,--one curst half line! I could almost weep for disappointment.

_Peter._ Never mind, sir, don't perplex yourself,--put in any thing.

_Vapid._ Put in any thing! why, 'tis the last line, and the epilogue must end with something striking, or it will be no trap for applause--no trap for applause, after all this fine writing!--Put in any thing!--what do you mean, sirrah?

_Peter._ Methinks this is a strange epilogue to a comedy--[_Knock at the door._]--Perhaps this is my master--[_Looks out._]--no, as I live, 'tis Mr Floriville and Miss Courtney! she mustn't on any account be seen by this gentleman.

_Vapid._ Well, who is it?--"The tyrant totters"--

_Peter._ Sir, it's a friend of my master's who has brought a lady with him--I'm sure you've too much gallantry to interrupt an amour; and, therefore, you'll be kind enough to get out of the way directly.

_Vapid._ Get out of the way! what the devil, in the middle of my composition?--"Die all, die n.o.bly"--

_Peter._ Nay, sir, only step for a moment into this closet, and you shall be released,--now, pray, sir,--pray be prevailed on.

_Vapid._ Well, let me see--in this closet! why, here's china, zounds!

would you put a live author in a china closet?

_Peter._ What can I do, sir? there is no way out but that door--get in here for an instant, and I'll show them into the library--now do, sir.

_Vapid._ Well, be brief then,--"Die all! die n.o.bly!"--oh! oh! oh!

[_Enters Closet, and FLORIVILLE and LOUISA enter._

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The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can! Part 11 summary

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