“Your Lordship,” said Sir Clement, “is universally acknowledged to be a connoisseur in beauty.”
“And you, Sir Clement,” returned he, “an enthusiast.”
“I am proud to own it,” cried Sir Clement; “in such a cause, and before such objects, enthusiasm is simply the consequence of not being blind.”
“Pr’ythee, a truce with all this palavering,” cried the Captain: “the women are vain enough already; no need for to puff ’em up more.”
“We must all submit to the commanding officer,” said Sir Clement: “therefore, let us call another subject. Pray, ladies, how have you been entertained with the play?”
“Want of entertainment,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “is its least fault; but I own there are objections to it, which I should be glad to see removed.”
“I could have ventured to answer for the ladies,” said Lord Orville, “since I am sure this is not a play that can be honoured with their approbation.”
“What, I suppose it is not sentimental enough!” cried the Captain, “or else it is too good for them; for I’ll maintain it’s one of the best comedies in our language, and has more wit in one scene than there is in all the new plays put together.”
“For my part,” said Mr. Lovel, “I confess I seldom listen to the players: one has so much to do, in looking about and finding out one’s acquaintance, that, really, one has no time to mind the stage. Pray,” most affectedly fixing his eyes upon a diamond ring on his little finger, “pray—what was the play tonight?”
“Why, what the D⸺l,” cried the Captain, “do you come to the play without knowing what it is?”
“O yes, Sir, yes, very frequently: I have no time to read playbills; one merely comes to meet one’s friends, and show that one’s alive.”
“Ha, ha, ha!—and so,” cried the Captain, “it costs you five shillings a-night just to show you’re alive! Well, faith, my friends should all think me dead and underground before I’d be at that expense for ’em. Howsomever—this here you may take from me—they’ll find you out fast enough if you have anything to give ’em.—And so you’ve been here all this time, and don’t know what the play was?”
“Why, really Sir, a play requires so much attention—it is scarce possible to keep awake if one listens;—for, indeed, by the time it is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining—or wine—or the house—or studying—that it is—it is perfectly an impossibility. But, now I think of it, I believe I have a bill in my pocket; O, ay, here it is—Love for Love, ay—true, ha, ha!—how could I be so stupid!”
“O, easily enough, as to that, I warrant you,” said the Captain; “but, by my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever heard!—Come to a play, and not know what it is!—Why, I suppose you wouldn’t have found it out, if they had fob’d you off with a scraping of fiddlers, or an opera?—Ha, ha, ha!—Why, now, I should have thought you might have taken some notice of one Mr. Tattle, that is in this play!”
This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour: but, turning to the Captain with a look of conceit, which implied that he had a retort ready, he said, “Pray, Sir, give me leave to ask—What do you think of one Mr. Ben, who is also in this play?”
The Captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, answered in a loud voice, “Think of him!—why, I think he is a man!” And then, staring full in his face, he struck his cane on the ground with a violence that made him start. He did not however, choose to take any notice of this: but, having bit his nails some time in manifest confusion, he turned very quick to me, and in a sneering tone of voice, said, “For my part, I was most struck with the country young lady, Miss Prue; pray what do you think of her, Ma’am?”
“Indeed, Sir,” cried I, very much provoked, “I think—that is, I do not think anything about her.”
“Well, really, Ma’am, you prodigiously surprise me!—mais, apparemment ce n’est qu’une façon de parler?—though I should beg your pardon, for probably you do not understand French?”
I made no answer, for I thought his rudeness intolerable; but Sir Clement, with great warmth, said, “I am surprised that you can suppose such an object as Miss Prue would engage the attention of Miss Anville even for a moment.”
“O, Sir,” returned this fop, “ ’tis the first character in the piece!—so well drawn!—so much the thing!—such true country breeding—such rural ignorance! ha, ha, ha!—’tis most admirably hit off, ’pon honour!”
I could almost have cried, that such impertinence should be leveled at me; and yet, chagrined as I was, I could never behold Lord Orville and this man at the same time, and feel any regret for the cause I had given of displeasure.
“The only female in the play,” said Lord Orville, “worthy of being mentioned to these ladies is Angelica.”
“Angelica,” cried Sir Clement, “is a noble girl; she tries her lover severely, but she rewards him generously.”
“Yet, in a trial so long,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “there seems rather too much consciousness of her power.”
“Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mirvan,” added Lord Orville, “I will venture to say, that Angelica bestows her hand rather with the air of a benefactress, than with the tenderness of a mistress. Generosity without delicacy, like wit without judgment, generally gives as much pain as pleasure. The uncertainty in which she keeps Valentine, and her manner of trifling with his temper, give no very favourable idea of her own.”
“Well, my Lord,” said Mr. Lovel, “it must, however, be owned, that uncertainty is not the ton among our ladies at present; nay, indeed, I think they say—though faith,” taking a pinch of snuff, “I hope it is not true—but they say, that we now are most shy and backward.”
The
