Enter Boy. Boy. Mr. Fag! Mr. Fag! Your master calls you. Fag. Well, you little dirty puppy, you need not bawl so! -The meanest disposition! the Boy. Quick, quick, Mr. Fag! Fag. Quick! quick! you impudent jackanapes! Am I to be commanded by you, too? you little impertinent, insolent, kitchen-bred- [Exit, kicking and beating him. SHERIDAN. THE RIVALS. Second Selection. ACRES and SIR LUCIUS O'TRIGGER. Sir Luc. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you. Sir Luc. Pray, my friend, what has brought you so suddenly to Bath? Acres. Faith! I have followed Cupid's Jack-a-lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last.-In short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. I don't choose to mention names, but look on me as on a very ill-used gentleman. Sir Luc. Pray what is the case? I ask no names. Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius. I fall as deep as need be in love with a young lady-her friends take my part-I follow her to Bath-send word of my arrival ;-and receive answer, that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of. This, Sir Lucius, I call being ill-used. Sir Luc. Very ill, upon my conscience. Pray, can you divine the cause of it? Acres. Why, there's the matter; she has another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath. Odds slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it. Sir Luc. A rival in the case, is there?—and you think he has supplanted you unfairly? Acres. Unfairly?-to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly. Sir Luc. Then sure you know what is to be done' me. Sir Luc. We wear no swords here, but you understand Acres. What! fight him! Sir Luc, Ay, to be sure: what can I mean else? Sir Luc. Now, I think he has given you the greatest provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offence against another, than to fall in love with the same woman? Oh, by my sword! it is a most unpardonable breach of friendship. Acres. Breach of friendship! ay, ay; but I have no acquaintance with this man. I never saw him in my life. Sir Luc. That's no argument at all-he has the less right to take such a liberty. Acres. Gad, that's true-I grow full of anger, Sir Lucius! I fire apace! Odds hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valour in him, and not know it! But couldn't I contrive to have a little right on my side? Sir Luc. What signifies right, when your honour is concerned? Do you think Achilles, or my little Alexander the Great, ever inquired where the right lay? No, they drew their broad swords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it. Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart! I believe courage must be catching! I certainly do feel a kind of valor rising as it were—a kind of courage, as I may say. Odds, flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly. Sir Luc. Come, come, there must be no passion at all in the case these things should always be done civilly. Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius-I must be in a rage. Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me. Come, here's pen and paper. (Sits down to write). I would the ink were red!-Indite, I say indite!-How shall I begin? Odds bullets and blades! I'll write a good bold hand, however. Sir Luc. Pray compose yourself. Acres. Come, now, shall I begin with an oath? Do, Sir Lucius, let me begin with an oath ? Sir Luc. Pho! Pho! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now-Sir Acres. That's too civil by half. Sir Luc. To prevent the confusion that might arise— Sir Luc. From our both addressing the same lady- Acres. Well then, honour of your company— Acres. Well. Sir Luc. Let me see, ay, King's-Mead-Fields will do— in King's-Mead-Fields. Acres. So, that's done. Well, I'll fold it up presently; my own crest-a hand and dagger shall be the seal. Sir Luc. You see now this little explanation will put a stop at once to all confusion or misunderstanding that might arise between you. Acres. Ay, we fight to prevent any misunderstanding. Sir Luc. Now, I'll leave you to fix your own time. Take my advice, and you'll decide this evening if you can; then let the worst come of it, 'twill be off your mind to morrow. Acres. Very true. SHERIDAN. THE RIVALS. Third Selection. ACRES and DAVID. David. Then, by the mass, sir! I would do no such thing-ne'er a Sir Lucius O'Trigger in the kingdom should make me fight when I wa' n't so minded. Oons! what will the old lady say when she hears o't. Acres. Ah, David! if you had heard Sir Lucius! Odds sparks and flames! he would have roused your valour. David. Not he, indeed. I hate such bloodthirsty cormorants. Look 'ee master, if you'd wanted a bout at boxing, quarterstaff, or short staff, I should never be the man to bid you cry off: but for your abominable sharps and snaps, I never knew any good come of 'em. Acres. But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour. David. Ay, by the mass! and I would be very careful of it, and I think in return my honour could n't do less than to be very careful of me. Acres. Odds blades! David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour. David. I say, then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman. Look 'ee, master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend: ay, truly, a very courtier-like servant. Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank heaven, no one can say of me); well, my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance. So, we fight (pleasant enough that)! Boh! I kill him (the more's my luck). Now, pray who gets the profit of it? Why, my honour. But put the case that he kills me: by the mass! I go to the worms, and my honour whips over to my enemy. Acres. No, David-in that case, odds crowns and laurels ! your honour follows you to the grave. David. Now, that's just the place where I could make a shift to do without it. Acres. Zounds! David, you are a coward. It does n't become my valour to listen to you. What, shall I disgrace my ancestors? Think of that, David—think what it would be to disgrace my ancestors. David. Under favour, the surest way of not disgracing them is to keep as long as you can out of their company. Look'ee now, master, to go to them in such haste—with an ounce of lead in your brains—I should think might as well be let alone. Our ancestors are very good kind of folks, but they are the last people I should choose to have a visiting acquaintance with. Acres. But, David, now, you don't think there is such very, very, very great danger, hey? Odds life! people often fight without any mischief done. David. By the mass, I think 't is ten to one against you! Oons! here to meet some lion-headed fellow, I warrant, with his horrid double-barrelled swords, and cut-and-thrast pistols. Bless us! it makes me tremble to think o't. Those be such desperate bloody-minded weapons! Well, I never could abide 'em-from a child, I never could fancy 'em. I suppose there a'nt been so merciless a beast in the world as your loaded pistol. Acres. Zounds! I won't be afraid!-odds fire and fury! you shan't make me afraid. Here is the challenge, and I have sent for my dear friend Jack Absolute to carry it for me. David. Ay, i' the name of mischief, let him be the messenger. For my part, I would n't lend a hand to it for the best horse in your stable. By the mass, it don't look like another letter! It is, as I may say, a designing and malicious-looking letter; and I warrant, smells of gunpowder like a soldier's pouch! Oons! I would n't swear it may n't go off.. Acres. Out, you poltroon! you ha'nt the valour of a grasshopper. David. Well, I say no more-'twill be sad news, to be sure, at Clod Hall! but I ha' done. How Phillis will howl when she hears of it! Ay, poor bitch, she little thinks what shooting her master's going after. And I warrant old Crop, who has carried your honour field and road, these ten years, will curse the hour he was born. [Whimpering. Acres. It won't do, David. I am determined to fightso get along, you coward, while I'm in the mind. SHERIDAN. THE RIVALS. Fourth Selection. Enter SIR LUCIUS O'TRIGGER and ACRES, with pistols. Acres. By my valour! Then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims !-I say it is a good distance. Sir Luc. Is it for muskets or small field-pieces ? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.-Stay now-I'll show you,-(Measures paces along the floor.) there now, that is a very pretty distance-a pretty gentleman's distance. Acres. Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry box! I tell you Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim. Sir Luc. Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight! |