The Dramatist; or Stop Him Who Can! Part 6

[_VAPID comes from behind the sofa, and smacks him on the back._

_Vapid._ Prologue or epilogue!--I'm the man--I'll write you both.

_Lord._ There he is again!

_Lady._ Oh! I shall faint with vexation!--My lord, I desire you'll misinterpret nothing--every thing shall be explained to you.--Marianne!

_Lord._ Here's the curtain up with a vengeance!

_Enter MARIANNE._

_Lady._ Answer me directly, how came that gentleman in this apartment? I know it is some trick of yours.

_Vapid._ [_Coming down the stage._] To be sure, never any thing was so fortunate!--upon my soul, I beg your pardon; but, curse me, if I can help laughing, to think how lucky it was for you both I happened to be behind the sofa!--ha! ha! ha!

_Mari._ [_As if taking the hint._] 'Faith, no more can I--to be sure it was the luckiest thing in the world! ha! ha! ha!

[_Here they both laugh loud, and point to my LORD, and LADY WAITFOR'T, who stand, between them in amazement._

_Lady._ Sir, I insist you lay aside this levity, and instantly explain how you came in this room.

_Lord._ Ay, sir,--explain.

_Vapid._ Never fear, old lady--I'll bring you off, depend on't.

_Lady._ Bring me off, sir! speak out, sir, how came you in this apartment?

_Vapid._ With all my heart--by her ladyship's own appointment.

_Lady._ My own appointment!----I shall run wild.

_Vapid._ To be sure you have hardly forgot your own hand writing.

_Lord._ Her own hand writing!--get on, sir,--I beseech you, get on.

_Vapid._ Why, look ye, old Scratch,--you seem to be an admirer of this lady's.--Now I think it my duty as a moral dramatist--a moral dramatist, sir, mark that--to expose hypocrisy--therefore, sir, there is the letter, read it, and be convinced of your error.

_Lord._ Very well; have you done, sir--have you done?--consider I'm a peer of the realm, and I shall die if I don't talk.

_Vapid._ And now, sir, I must beg a favour of you--[_Gets close to him._]--keep the whole affair secret, for if it gets hacknied, it loses its force.--To bring it all on the stage: hush! say nothing--it will have a capital effect, and brother bards will wonder where I stole it--your situation will be wonderful--you hav'n't an idea how ridiculous you will look--you will laugh very much at yourself, I a.s.sure you.

_Lord._ What is all this! Well, now I will speak--I'll wait no longer.

_Vapid._ Yes, yes, I shall take care of you,--Falstaff in the buck basket will be nothing to it--he was only the dupe of another man's wife,--you'll be the dupe of your own, you know--"think of that, Master Brook, think of that." Well, your servant. [_Exit._

_Lord._ He's gone without hearing me!--then there's an end of every thing, for here I stand, once a barrister,--since a country gentleman, and now a peer; and, though I have made twenty attempts to speak, I can't be heard a syllable,--mercy! what will this world come to! A peer, and not be heard!

_Lady._ My lord,--a.s.sured of my innocence, I have no doubt of justifying my own conduct, and even by means of that letter increasing your affection.--It was written to another person--your ungrateful nephew.

_Lord._ My nephew?

_Lady._ Yes, sir, I could not perceive him losing the esteem of his friends, without having the desire to reclaim him--indeed, I knew no better mode of fulfilling my project, than by personally warning him of his situation.--For this purpose, I wrote that letter, and I never thought it would have been thus misused.--If there is any improper warmth in the expressions, it only proceeds from my anxiety of ensuring an interview.--I hope, sir, you are satisfied.

_Lord._ Why, I believe you, my lady; and I should be perfectly satisfied if I could forget your pa.s.sion for the stage, and that madman behind the sofa.

_Lady._ As to that, sir, this young lady can best inform you.--I desired him to leave the house an hour ago.

_Mari._ [_Aside._] I'm afraid my only way is to confess all.--My lord, if I confess the truth, I hope you'll prevail on my aunt to forgive me.

_Lord._ Tell what you know, and I'll answer for your forgiveness.

_Mari._ Why, sir, I found the gentleman alone, and not having had a _tete-a-tete_ a long time, I pressed him to stay, and, on hearing your voice, I put him behind the sofa,--that you might not think any thing had happened,--and, indeed, sir, nothing did happen--upon my word he's as quiet, inoffensive a gentleman as yourself.

_Lord._ My fears are over! Oh! you finished composition! come to my arms, and when I suspect you again--[_Coughs much._]--this curst cough, it takes one so suddenly!

_Enter ENNUI._

_Ennui._ I've an idea--Floriville is arrived--in fact--I just now spoke to him.

_Lord._ Floriville arrived!--Come, my lady--let's go see what his travels have done for him.--Hark ye, Ennui--prepare for your interview with Louisa, and remember you make a mandarin member.--Come, my lady--nay, never irritate your feelings. [_Exeunt LORD and LADY._

_Mari._ So--poor Mr Neville is to lose Miss Courtney.--Her present quarrel with him is so violent, that she may marry this idiot merely in revenge.--If I could dupe him now, and ensure her contempt.--I'll try.--Mr Ennui, have you seen your intended wife yet?

_Ennui._ No.

_Mari._ So I thought--why you'll never please her while you remain as you are.--You must alter your manners.--She is all life!--all spirits!--and loves a man the very opposite to you.

_Ennui._ I've an idea--I'm very sorry--in fact--how can I please her?

_Mari._ There's the difficulty--let me see--the sort of man she prefers is--you know Sir Harry Hustle?--a man all activity and confidence!--who does every thing from fashion, and glories in confessing it.

_Ennui._ Sir Harry Hustle?--in fact--he's a modern blood of fashion.

_Mari._ I know--that's the reason she likes him, and you must become the same, if you wish to win her affection--a new dress--bold looks--a few oaths, and much swaggering, effects the business. [_ENNUI puts himself in att.i.tudes._] Ay, that's right, you are the very man already.

_Ennui._ I'm a lad of fashion!--eh, dam'me!--I've an idea--I shall fall asleep in the midst of it.

_Mari._ No, no;--go about it directly--see Sir Harry Hustle, and study your conversation before hand--but remember Louisa is so fond of fashion, that you can't boast too much of its vices and absurdities.

_Ennui._ If virtue was the fashion, I should be virtuous!--I should, dam'me!

_Mari._ Ay, that's the very thing--well;--good bye, Mr Ennui--success attend you--mind you talk enough.

_Ennui._ Talk!--I'll talk till I fall asleep!--I will! dam'me!

[_Exit, swaggering.--MARIANNE laughing._