SCENE II.
Sir Clement Flint's House.
Enter Lord Gayville and Sir Clement.
Lord G. I am resolved to see Miss Alscrip no more.
Sir C. And I hope you are prepared with arguments to justify the cause of this breach, to me, and to the world.
Lord G. For my reconciliation with you, I hope your former partiality will return to my aid; and as for the world, I despise it. The multitude look at happiness through the false glare of wealth and pomp: I have discovered it, though yet at a distance, through the only true medium, that of mutual affection.
Sir C. No common place book, formed from a whole library of plays and novels, could furnish a better sentence. Your folly would shame a school-boy—even of the last age—In the present, he learns the world with his grammar, and gets a just notion of the worthlessness of the other sex, before he is of an age to be duped by their attractions.
Lord G. Sir, your prejudices——
Sir C. My prejudices?—will you appeal to Clifford—here he comes—your friend—your other self.
Enter Clifford.
Lord G. And will Clifford condemn the choice of the heart?
Cliff. Never, my lord, when justly placed—In the case I perceive you are arguing, I am ready to blush for you—nay, don't look grave—I am acquainted with your enchantress.
Lord G. You acquainted with her?
Cliff. Yes; and, if I don't deceive myself, shall make her break her own spell. I am in correspondence with her.
Lord G. You in correspondence with Miss Alton!—when? where? What am I to think of this?
Cliff. My dear lord, that she is the most arrant coquette, the most accomplished jilt, the most ready trafficker of her charms——
Lord G. Phrensy and profanation!
Sir C. Come, Gayville, I'll be plain with you; you have sillily let the girl raise her price upon you—but, if nothing else will satisfy you, e'en pay it, and have done with her.
Lord G. Sir, her price is an unadulterated heart: I am afraid we cannot pay it betwixt us.
Enter Chignon; he delivers a Letter to Clifford, apart.
Chignon. Alerte, monsieur, I repete your word—Mademoiselle Alton be all your own.
Sir C. Come, Clifford, the contents: his lordship braves the trial.
Lord G. What is this mighty scheme! and what is that paper to discover?
Cliff. [Breaking open the Letter.] Your lordship shall be informed word for word. [Upon first sight of the Contents he shows the utmost emotion.] Amazement! do I dream! can it be? who wrote this letter?
Sir C. Oh! speak out, monsieur, we are all friends.
Chignon. De true Mademoiselle Alton, whom you charge me to give your letter—she open it—she turn pale—den red—den confuse—den kiss your name—den write, and bid me fly.
Lord G. Confusion on confusion, what does all this mean? explain.
Cliff. You must pardon me, I am disconcerted—confounded—thunderstruck —This letter is indeed of a different nature, from that I expected—I am more interested in Miss Alton's fate than your lordship—my perplexity is not to be endured; friend, come with me instantly.
[Exeunt Clifford and Chignon.
Lord G. Mystery and torture! what am I to collect from this? He interested in the fate of Miss Alton? he her former acquaintance?
Sir C. Why not—and her dupe also?
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Is Mr. Clifford gone, sir?
Lord G. [Impatiently.] Who wants him?
Serv. A chairman with a letter, he will not deliver to a servant.
Sir C. Call the fellow in. [Exit Servant.] Who knows but he may help us in our difficulties?
Chairman brought in, with a Letter in his Hand.
Lord G. [Still impatiently.] Whom did you bring that letter from?
Chairman. Please your honour, I don't know; passing through the square, a sash flew up, and down came this letter and half a crown upon my head. It could not have fallen better, there's not a fellow in town more handy than I am, nor, though I say it more cute at private business—So I resolved to deliver it safely—Is your honour's name Clifford?
Lord G. No, indeed, friend, I am not so happy a man.
Sir C. [Aside.] That letter must not be lost though. Here, my friend—I'll take charge of your letter. [Takes the Letter.] Something for your pains.
Chairman. God bless your honour, and if you want to send an answer, my number is forty-seven in Bond Street—your honour, I am known by the name of secret Tom.
[Exit.
Lord G. What is the use of this deceit? strong as my suspicion is, a seal must be sacred.
Sir C. Our circumstances make an exception to your rule: when there is treason in the state, wax gives way. [Takes the Letter, opens and reads it.] 'Faith, this is beyond my expectation—though the mystery is unfathomable, the aptness of it to my purpose is admirable—Gayville—I wish you joy.
Lord G. Of what?
Sir C. Of conviction! if this is not plain! only hear. [Reads.] Since my confused lines of a few minutes past, my perplexities redouble upon my spirits—I am in momentary apprehension of farther insult from the Alscrip family; I am still more anxious to avoid Lord Gayville, [Pauses and looks at Lord Gayville.] do not suspect my sincerity—I have not a thought of him that ought to disturb you.—Here she is, Gayville, look at her, through the true medium of mutual affection—I have not a thought of him that might to disturb you—Fly to me, secure me, my dearest Henry.
Lord G. Dearest Henry!
Sir C. [Reads on.] Dearest Henry—In this call, the danger of your Harriet unites with the impatience of her affection.
Lord G. Hell, and fury! this must be some trick, some forgery. [Snatches the Letter.]—No, by all that's perfidious, it is that exquisite hand, that baffles imitation.
Sir C. All, regular, strict, undeviating modern morals—common property is the first principle of friendship; your horse, your house, your purse, your mistress—nay, your wife, would be a better example still of the doctrine of this generous age. Bless fortune, Gayville, that has brought the fidelity of your friend and your girl to the test at the same time.
Lord G. Sir, I am not in a humour for any spleen but my own. What can this mean? It must have been a secret attachment for years—but then the avowal of a correspondence, and the confusion at receiving it—his coldness in traducing her; the passionate interest he expressed in her fate; the conviction of his second letter—It is all delirium. I'll search the matter to the bottom, though I go to Clifford's heart for it.
[Exit in great anger.
Sir C. I'll after the precious fellow too—He is a rogue above my hopes, and the intricacy of his snares excite my curiosity.
[Exit.