Give me your hand, I wish a private conference On somewhat of much moment ere we part.

CONSTANTIA. You make your daughter happy; for of late, I've thought, you did not see me with that pleasure To which I had been us'd; I, therefore fear'd, You some distress had met, or that Constantia, Had witlessly, (when some ill fate presided,) The best of parents and of friends offended.

ANDREWS. You never did; it is against your nature.

You've ever been affectionate as dutiful; But the postponing thus a second time (And on lord Weston's side) the purpos'd wedding, Which all must say, our station weigh'd with his, Besides his princely qualities of mind, Would highly honour us, disturbs me much: Yet, wou'd I hope, th' affections of your heart Are not so fix'd upon this n.o.ble youth, you cou'd not wean them thence, shou'd it be fit.

CONSTANTIA. What is't I hear! undone! be still, my heart! [Aside.]

Hath not a letter, sir, disclos'd the cause?

ANDREWS. Such letter I receiv'd, yet it is said, His uncle, the lord Belmour, hath of late, Spoken of this, to which he once consented, In terms of discontent; which, if as told, I would to the alliance of an emperour, Prefer the badge of want.

CONSTANTIA. [She kneels] O most indulgent!

Ever-honour'd sir! let not a thought for me Distress your tenderness. Heav'n be my judge!

That did my faithful heart approve him more (If possible) than I have truly told you, And that its choice was not with your a.s.sent, My task should be, to tear it thence for ever.

And, but I know lord Weston has a soul, Possess'd of every virtue heav'n bestows, I wou'd far rather wed in mine own rank, Where truth and happiness are oft'ner found, Than midst the glaring grandeur of the great.

ANDREWS. Come to thy father's arms, thou sweet resemblance Of the perfections of your much-lov'd mother; A loss each day felt more--yet, my Constantia, What tho' your charms and virtue shou'd surpa.s.s All that e'er center'd in a virgin frame, To be the choice of this exalted youth Causes a thousand fears in my fond heart.

CONSTANTIA. O sir! how you alarm me! heav'n! what fears?

ANDREWS. Constantia singled out, preferr'd to numbers Of the first rank, who would exult to win him, Will rouse up ev'ry baneful blast of envy, Perfections such as thine ne'er 'scape malignity.

CONSTANTIA. The example of that honour to her s.e.x, My dear lost mother, with the wholesome lessons Instill'd by you, will so direct my steps, I may those blasts escape your fondness fears.

ANDREWS. Yet, should this change in your condition happen, This also treasure in your mind; that man, As in his frame, so is his spirit rough; Whilst your more tender s.e.x was form'd by heav'n, To sooth those cares, which from his state still flow, With winning grace, and smooth life's rugged paths.

That she who best submits will surest reign; In youth be idolized, in age revered.

But when perverse contention marks her conduct, And pa.s.sion's transitory joys are pall'd, The past offence will to the mind recur, And all that once had charm'd be quite forgot.

CONSTANTIA. Good heav'n! of two such parents make me worthy.

Enter MARIA.

ANDREWS. Some message from my wife--withdraw awhile.

CONSTANTIA. [As she goes off] Alas! I fear some deep distress affects him.

ANDREWS. Where is your mistress?

MARIA. In her chamber, sir.

ANDREWS. Go tell her I am here, and wish to see her.

MARIA. Good sir! she has been greatly indispos'd: But somewhat eas'd, was in a friendly slumber, Till rous'd at hearing that some sudden ailment Had just now seiz'd you, she dispatch'd me hither, And most impatient waits for my return With tidings of your health, to her so precious.

ANDREWS. This woman is so hackney'd in all baseness, That even truth from her would be disgrac'd. [Aside.]

Had her condition far exceeded all Your seeming tender fears; or did I hear The peal of her death bell, I shou'd not wonder.

Was she not up all night? Was ever seen Such rapid havock as this life of riot Spreads o'er her bloom, which ev'ry art abash'd, Now vainly practis'd to repair its ruin!

Sad victim to the world's most baleful fashions!

MARIA. Some friends staid later here last night than usual.

But if you knew how much she's indispos'd, I'm sure 'twould pierce your heart; as I well know, You love her tenderly, as she does you.

ANDREWS. Wou'd I had lov'd her less, or ne'er had seen her!

Retire awhile, I pray--I wou'd be private.

MARIA. [As she goes off] We now shall execute the scheme I plann'd.

ANDREWS. I am the veriest wretch that breathes the air, And nought but desperation is before me.

[A Servant BOY enters hastily at a different door, as if pa.s.sing to another room, with a letter in his hand, starts, (as if at seeing his master) and affects to conceal the letter.]

ANDREWS. You seem confus'd--What paper's that?

BOY. 'Tis, sir--'tis a letter--

ANDREWS. From whom? and to whom?

BOY. From, sir,--Why, 'tis--

[He seizes the boy's hand, who drops the letter, and whilst his master is taking it up, runs off.]

ANDREWS. Ha! what, gone off! how guilt betrays itself!

Here is some secret scheme--'tis in my wife's hand.

The superscription to my old friend Wilson-- I never yet approv'd of opening letters By any, save by those to whom address'd; But to detect deceit, such means are just; And here it seems, as matters were on foot, With which, 'tis meant I should not be acquainted.

Besides, of late, I have at times surpriz'd them in close and intimate discourse together; When, it now strikes me, they seem'd much confounded.

Upon the whole, I think I ought to read it: Necessity demands the doubtful deed. [He opens and reads the letter.]

"Sir, I might have thought the repulse you so lately receiv'd, with the declaration I then made of acquainting my husband with your conduct, would have deterred you from ever making any further attempt.--How fatal might the consequences prove should I discover your behaviour to him? Is this your friendship? Know, base man! that whatever my follies and indiscretions may be in other respects, there is not any distress shall lead me to an act against the honour of Elizabeth Andrews."

Am I awake! or is this all a dream?

My friend--seduce my wife? it cannot be! [Looks again on the letter.]

It surely is her hand--it must be so.

She's now but in her prime, and few so beautiful-- Then his strict charge this morning, not to mention What he himself had told me was reported Of her and the lord Belmour, with this letter, Are proofs which make this matter nearly certain.

What ruin is at hand!------ [He pauses.]

Enter MARIA hastily.

Woman, your business?

MARIA. My lady, sir, is up, and begs to see you; Or she will wait on you.

ANDREWS. I choose the latter. [She goes off.]

How wond'rous condescending of a sudden!

Shou'd this be a true charge in this dread letter, All he has mentioned of her and lord Belmour, May be a base invention for his purpose-- Yet, may not both be true?--distracting state!

Enter Mrs. ANDREWS.

[He in profound thought, and not observing her.]