No More Learning

where frowns are transportation.
A hiss the gallows, and a groan damnation!
But such the public candour, without fear
My client waives all right of challenge here.
No newsman from our session is dismiss'd,
Nor wit nor critic we scratch off the list;
His faults can never hurt another's ease,
His crime, at worst, a bad attempt to please:
Thus, all respecting, he appeals to all,
And by the general voice will stand or fall.

* * * * * * *

Prologue
By the AUTHOR

SPOKEN ON THE TENTH NIGHT, BY MRS. BULKLEY.

Granted our cause, our suit and trial o'er,
The worthy serjeant need appear no more:
In pleasing I a different client choose,
He served the Poet--I would serve the Muse.
Like him, I'll try to merit your applause,
A female counsel in a female's cause.
Look on this form--where humour, quaint and sly,
Dimples the cheek, and points the beaming eye;
Where gay invention seems to boast its wiles
In amorous hint, and half-triumphant smiles;
While her light mask or covers satire's strokes,
Or hides the conscious blush her wit provokes.
Look on her well--does she seem form'd to teach?
Should you expect to hear this lady preach?
Is grey experience suited to her youth?
Do solemn sentiments become that mouth?
Bid her be grave, those lips should rebel prove
To every theme that slanders mirth or love.
Yet, thus adorn'd with every graceful art
To charm the fancy and yet reach the heart--
Must we displace her? And instead advance
The goddess of the woful countenance--
The sentimental Muse! --Her emblems view,
The Pilgrim's Progress, and a sprig of rue!
View her--too chaste to look like flesh and blood--
Primly portray'd on emblematic wood!
There, fix'd in usurpation, should she stand,
She'll snatch the dagger from her sister's hand:
And having made her votaries weep a flood,
Good heaven! she'll end her comedies in blood--
Bid Harry Woodward break poor Dunstal's crown!
Imprison Quick, and knock Ned Shuter down;
While sad Barsanti, weeping o'er the scene,
Shall stab herself--or poison Mrs. Green.
Such dire encroachments to prevent in time,
Demands the critic's voice--the poet's rhyme.
Can our light scenes add strength to holy laws!
Such puny patronage but hurts the cause:
Fair virtue scorns our feeble aid to ask;
And moral truth disdains the trickster's mask
For here their favourite stands, whose brow severe
And sad, claims youth's respect, and pity's tear;
Who, when oppress'd by foes her worth creates,
Can point a poniard at the guilt she hates.


* * * * * * * * * * *

THE RIVALS

* * * * * * * * * * *


ACT I

* * * * * * *


Scene I. --A street.
[Enter THOMAS; he crosses the stage; FAG follows, looking after him. ]

FAG
What! Thomas! sure 'tis he? --What! Thomas! Thomas!

THOMAS
Hey! --Odd's life! Mr. Fag! --give us your hand, my old fellow-servant.

FAG
Excuse my glove, Thomas:--I'm devilish glad to see you, my lad. Why, my
prince of charioteers, you look as hearty! --but who the deuce thought
of seeing you in Bath?

THOMAS
Sure, master, Madam Julia, Harry, Mrs. Kate, and the postillion, be all
come.

FAG
Indeed!

THOMAS
Ay, master thought another fit of the gout was coming to make him a
visit;--so he'd a mind to gi't the slip, and whip! we were all off at
an hour's warning.

FAG
Ay, ay, hasty in every thing, or it would not be Sir Anthony Absolute!

THOMAS
But tell us, Mr. Fag, how does young master? Odd! Sir Anthony will
stare to see the Captain here!

FAG
I do not serve Captain Absolute now.

THOMAS
Why sure!

FAG
At present I am employed by Ensign Beverley.

THOMAS
I doubt, Mr. Fag, you ha'n't changed for the better.

FAG
I have not changed, Thomas.

THOMAS
No! Why didn't you say you had left young master?

FAG
No. --Well, honest Thomas, I must puzzle you no farther:--briefly
then--Captain Absolute and Ensign Beverley are one and the same person.

THOMAS
The devil they are!

FAG
So it is indeed, Thomas; and the ensign half of my master being on
guard at present--the captain has nothing to do with me.

THOMAS
So, so! --What, this is some freak, I warrant! --Do tell us, Mr. Fag, the
meaning o't--you know I ha' trusted you.

FAG
You'll be secret, Thomas?

THOMAS
As a coach-horse.

FAG
Why then the cause of all this is--Love,--Love, Thomas, who (as you may
get read to you) has been a masquerader ever since the days of Jupiter.

THOMAS
Ay, ay;--I guessed there was a lady in the case:--but pray, why does
your master pass only for ensign? --Now if he had shammed general
indeed----

FAG
Ah! Thomas, there lies the mystery o' the matter. Hark'ee, Thomas, my
master is in love with a lady of a very singular taste: a lady who
likes him better as a half pay ensign than if she knew he was son and
heir to Sir Anthony Absolute, a baronet of three thousand a year.

THOMAS
That is an odd taste indeed! --But has she got the stuff, Mr. Fag? Is
she rich, hey?

FAG
Rich! --Why, I believe she owns half the stocks! Zounds! Thomas, she
could pay the national debt as easily as I could my washerwoman! She
has a lapdog that eats out of gold,--she feeds her parrot with small
pearls,--and all her thread-papers are made of bank-notes!

THOMAS
Bravo, faith! --Odd! I warrant she has a set of thousands at least:--but
does she draw kindly with the captain?

FAG
As fond as pigeons.

THOMAS
May one hear her name?

FAG
Miss Lydia Languish. --But there is an old tough aunt in the way;
though, by-the-by, she has never seen my master--for we got acquainted
with miss while on a visit in Gloucestershire.

THOMAS
Well--I wish they were once harnessed together in matrimony. --But pray,
Mr. Fag, what kind of a place is this Bath? --I ha' heard a deal of
it--here's a mort o' merrymaking, hey?

FAG
Pretty well, Thomas, pretty well--'tis a good lounge; in the morning we
go to the pump-room (though neither my master nor I drink the waters);
after breakfast we saunter on the parades, or play a game at billiards;
at night we dance; but damn the place, I'm tired of it: their regular
hours stupify me--not a fiddle nor a card after eleven! --However, Mr.
Faulkland's gentleman and I keep it up a little in private
parties;--I'll introduce you there, Thomas--you'll like him much.

THOMAS
Sure I know Mr. Du-Peigne--you know his master is to marry Madam Julia.

FAG
I had forgot. --But, Thomas, you must polish a little--indeed you
must. --Here now--this wig! --What the devil do you do with a wig,
Thomas? --None of the London whips of any degree of _ton_ wear wigs now.

THOMAS
More's the pity! more's the pity! I say. --Odd's life! when I heard how
the lawyers and doctors had took to their own hair, I thought how
'twould go next:--odd rabbit it! when the fashion had got foot on the
bar, I guessed 'twould mount to the box! --but 'tis all out of
character, believe me, Mr. Fag: and look'ee, I'll never gi' up
mine--the lawyers and doctors may do as they will.

FAG
Well, Thomas, we'll not quarrel about that.

THOMAS
Why, bless you, the gentlemen of the professions ben't all of a
mind--for in our village now, thoff Jack Gauge, the exciseman, has
ta'en to his carrots, there's little Dick the farrier swears he'll
never forsake his bob, though all the college should appear with their
own heads!

FAG
Indeed! well said, Dick! --But hold--mark! mark! Thomas.

THOMAS
Zooks! 'tis the captain. --Is that the Lady with him?

FAG
No, no, that is Madam Lucy, my master's mistress's maid. They lodge at
that house--but I must after him to tell him the news.

THOMAS
Odd! he's giving her money! --Well, Mr. Fag----

FAG
Good-bye, Thomas. I have an appointment in Gyde's porch this evening at
eight; meet me there, and we'll make a little party.

[Exeunt severally. ]

* * * * * * *


Scene II. --A Dressing-room in Mrs. MALAPROP's Lodgings.
[LYDIA sitting on a sofa, with a book in her hand. Lucy, as just
returned from a message. ]

LUCY
Indeed, ma'am, I traversed half the town in search of it: I don't
believe there's a circulating library in Bath I ha'n't been at.

LYDIA
And could not you get _The Reward of Constancy_?

LUCY
No, indeed, ma'am.

LYDIA
Nor _The Fatal Connexion_?

LUCY
No, indeed, ma'am.

LYDIA
Nor _The Mistakes of the Heart_?

LUCY
Ma'am, as ill luck would have it, Mr. Bull said Miss Sukey Saunter had
just fetched it away.

LYDIA
Heigh-ho! --Did you inquire for _The Delicate Distress_?

LUCY
Or, _The Memoirs of Lady Woodford_? Yes, indeed, ma'am. I asked every
where for it; and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick's, but
Lady Slattern Lounger, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and
dog's-eared it, it wa'n't fit for a Christian to read.

LYDIA
Heigh-ho! --Yes, I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me.
She has a most observing thumb; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for
the convenience of making marginal notes. --Well, child, what have you
brought me?

LUCY
Oh! here, ma'am. --[Taking books from under her cloak, and from her
pockets. ] This is _The Gordian Knot_,--and this _Peregrine Pickle_.
Here are _The Tears of Sensibility_, and _Humphrey Clinker_. This is
_The Memoirs of a Lady of Quality, written by herself_, and here the
second volume of _The Sentimental Journey_.

LYDIA
Heigh-ho! --What are those books by the glass?

LUCY
The great one is only _The Whole Duty of Man_, where I press a few
blonds, ma'am.

LYDIA
Very well--give me the sal volatile.

LUCY
Is it in a blue cover, ma'am?

LYDIA
My smelling-bottle, you simpleton!

LUCY
Oh, the drops! --here, ma'am.

LYDIA
Hold! --here's some one coming--quick, see who it is. ----

[Exit LUCY. ]

Surely I heard my cousin Julia's voice.

[Re-enter LUCY. ]

LUCY
Lud! ma'am, here is Miss Melville.

LYDIA
Is it possible! ----

[Exit LUCY. ]

[Enter JULIA. ]

LYDIA
My dearest Julia, how delighted am I! --[Embrace. ] How unexpected was
this happiness!

JULIA
True, Lydia--and our pleasure is the greater. --But what has been the
matter? --you were denied to me at first!

LYDIA
Ah, Julia, I have a thousand things to tell you! --But first inform me
what has conjured you to Bath? --Is Sir Anthony here?

JULIA
He is--we are arrived within this hour--and I suppose he will be here
to wait on Mrs. Malaprop as soon as he is dressed.

LYDIA
Then before we are interrupted, let me impart to you some of my
distress! --I know your gentle nature will sympathize with me, though
your prudence may condemn me! My letters have informed you of my whole
connection with Beverley; but I have lost him, Julia! My aunt has
discovered our intercourse by a note she intercepted, and has confined
me ever since! Yet, would you believe it? she has absolutely fallen in
love with a tall Irish baronet she met one night since we have been
here, at Lady Macshuffle's rout.

JULIA
You jest, Lydia!

LYDIA
No, upon my word. --She really carries on a kind of correspondence with
him, under a feigned name though, till she chooses to be known to
him:--but it is a Delia or a Celia, I assure you.

JULIA
Then, surely, she is now more indulgent to her niece.

LYDIA
Quite the contrary.
Since she has discovered her own frailty, she is
become more suspicious of mine. Then I must inform you of another
plague! --That odious Acres is to be in Bath to-day; so that I protest I
shall be teased out of all spirits!

JULIA
Come, come, Lydia, hope for the best--Sir Anthony shall use his
interest with Mrs. Malaprop.

LYDIA
But you have not heard the worst. Unfortunately I had quarrelled with
my poor Beverley, just before my aunt made the discovery, and I have
not seen him since, to make it up.

JULIA
What was his offence?

LYDIA
Nothing at all! --But, I don't know how it was, as often as we had been
together, we had never had a quarrel, and, somehow, I was afraid he
would never give me an opportunity. So, last Thursday, I wrote a letter
to myself, to inform myself that Beverley was at that time paying his
addresses to another woman. I signed it _your friend unknown_, showed
it to Beverley, charged him with his falsehood, put myself in a violent
passion, and vowed I'd never see him more.

JULIA
And you let him depart so, and have not seen him since?

LYDIA
'Twas the next day my aunt found the matter out. I intended only to
have teased him three days and a half, and now I've lost him for ever.

JULIA
If he is as deserving and sincere as you have represented him to me, he
will never give you up so. Yet consider, Lydia, you tell me he is but
an ensign, and you have thirty thousand pounds.

LYDIA
But you know I lose most of my fortune if I marry without my aunt's
consent, till of age; and that is what I have determined to do, ever
since I knew the penalty. Nor could I love the man who would wish to
wait a day for the alternative.

JULIA
Nay, this is caprice!

LYDIA
What, does Julia tax me with caprice? --I thought her lover Faulkland
had inured her to it.

JULIA
I do not love even his faults.

LYDIA
But apropos--you have sent to him, I suppose?

JULIA
Not yet, upon my word--nor has he the least idea of my being in Bath.
Sir Anthony's resolution was so sudden, I could not inform him of it.

LYDIA
Well, Julia, you are your own mistress, (though under the protection of
Sir Anthony), yet have you, for this long year, been a slave to the
caprice, the whim, the jealousy of this ungrateful Faulkland, who will
ever delay assuming the right of a husband, while you suffer him to be
equally imperious as a lover.

JULIA
Nay, you are wrong entirely. We were contracted before my father's
death. That, and some consequent embarrassments, have delayed what I
know to be my Faulkland's most ardent wish. He is too generous to
trifle on such a point:--and for his character, you wrong him there,
too. No, Lydia, he is too proud, too noble to be jealous; if he is
captious, 'tis without dissembling; if fretful, without rudeness.
Unused to the fopperies of love, he is negligent of the little duties
expected from a lover--but being unhackneyed in the passion, his
affection is ardent and sincere; and as it engrosses his whole soul, he
expects every thought and emotion of his mistress to move in unison
with his. Yet, though his pride calls for this full return, his
humility makes him undervalue those qualities in him which would
entitle him to it; and not feeling why he should be loved to the degree
he wishes, he still suspects that he is not loved enough. This temper,
I must own, has cost me many unhappy hours; but I have learned to think
myself his debtor, for those imperfections which arise from the ardour
of his attachment.

LYDIA
Well, I cannot blame you for defending him. But tell me candidly,
Julia, had he never saved your life, do you think you should have been
attached to him as you are? --Believe me, the rude blast that overset
your boat was a prosperous gale of love to him.

JULIA
Gratitude may have strengthened my attachment to Mr. Faulkland, but I
loved him before he had preserved me; yet surely that alone were an
obligation sufficient.

LYDIA
Obligation! why a water spaniel would have done as much! --Well, I
should never think of giving my heart to a man because he could swim.

JULIA
Come, Lydia, you are too inconsiderate.

LYDIA
Nay, I do but jest. --What's here?

[Re-enter LUCY in a hurry. ]

LUCY
O ma'am, here is Sir Anthony Absolute just come home with your aunt.

LYDIA
They'll not come here. --Lucy, do you watch.

[Exit LUCY. ]

JULIA
Yet I must go. Sir Anthony does not know I am here, and if we meet,
he'll detain me, to show me the town. I'll take another opportunity of
paying my respects to Mrs. Malaprop, when she shall treat me, as long
as she chooses, with her select words so ingeniously misapplied,
without being mispronounced.

[Re-enter LUCY. ]

LUCY
O Lud! ma'am, they are both coming up stairs.

LYDIA
Well, I'll not detain you, coz. --Adieu, my dear Julia. I'm sure you are
in haste to send to Faulkland. --There--through my room you'll find
another staircase.

JULIA
Adieu! [Embraces LYDIA, and exit. ]

LYDIA
Here, my dear Lucy, hide these books. Quick, quick! --Fling _Peregrine
Pickle_ under the toilet--throw _Roderick Random_ into the closet--put
_The Innocent Adultery_ into _The Whole Duty of Man_--thrust _Lord
Aimworth_ under the sofa--cram _Ovid_ behind the bolster--there--put
_The Man of Feeling_ into your pocket--so, so--now lay _Mrs. Chapone_
in sight, and leave _Fordyce's Sermons_ open on the table.

LUCY
O burn it, ma'am! the hair-dresser has torn away as far as _Proper
Pride_.

LYDIA
Never mind--open at _Sobriety_. --Fling me _Lord Chesterfields
Letters_. --Now for 'em.

[Exit LUCY. ]

[Enter Mrs. MALAPROP, and Sir ANTHONY ABSOLUTE. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton who wants to
disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a
shilling.

LYDIA
Madam, I thought you once----

Mrs. MALAPROP
You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at
all--thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would
request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow--to
illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.

LYDIA
Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy
to forget.

Mrs. MALAPROP
But I say it is, miss; there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget,
if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot
your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed--and I thought it my
duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't
become a young woman.

Sir ANTHONY
Why sure she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not! --ay,
this comes of her reading!

LYDIA
What crime, madam, have I committed, to be treated thus?

Mrs. MALAPROP
Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I
have proof controvertible of it. --But tell me, will you promise to do
as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing?

LYDIA
Madam, I must tell you plainly, that had I no preferment for any one
else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.

Mrs. MALAPROP
What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don't
become a young woman; and you ought to know, that as both always wear
off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am
sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a
blackamoor--and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made! --and
when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears
I shed! --But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you
promise us to give up this Beverley?

LYDIA
Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions
would certainly as far belie my words.

Mrs. MALAPROP
Take yourself to your room. --You are fit company for nothing but your
own ill-humours.

LYDIA
Willingly, ma'am--I cannot change for the worse. [Exit. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
There's a little intricate hussy for you!

Sir ANTHONY
It is not to be wondered at, ma'am,--all this is the natural
consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by
Heaven! I'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet!

Mrs. MALAPROP
Nay, nay, Sir Anthony, you are an absolute misanthropy.

Sir ANTHONY
In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming
forth from a circulating library! --She had a book in each hand--they
were half-bound volumes, with marble covers! --From that moment I
guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress!

Mrs. MALAPROP
Those are vile places, indeed!

Sir ANTHONY
Madam, a circulating library in a town is as an evergreen tree of
diabolical knowledge! It blossoms through the year! --And depend on it,
Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves, will
long for the fruit at last.

Mrs. MALAPROP
Fy, fy, Sir Anthony! you surely speak laconically.

Sir ANTHONY
Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation now, what would you have a woman
know?

Mrs. MALAPROP
Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to
be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a
young woman; for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or
Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such
inflammatory branches of learning--neither would it be necessary for
her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical
instruments. --But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to
a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice.
Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts;--and
as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might
know something of the contagious countries;--but above all, Sir
Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy, that she might not
mis-spell, and mis-pronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do;
and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is
saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know;--and I
don't think there is a superstitious article in it.

Sir ANTHONY
Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with
you; though I must confess, that you are a truly moderate and polite
arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side of the
question. But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in
debate--you say you have no objection to my proposal?

Mrs. MALAPROP
None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr. Acres,
and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have
better success.

Sir ANTHONY
Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable
of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head.
He is at present with his regiment.

Mrs. MALAPROP
We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on
his side.

Sir ANTHONY
Objection! --let him object if he dare! --No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack
knows that the least demur puts me in a frenzy directly. My process was
always very simple--in their younger days, 'twas "Jack, do this";--if
he demurred, I knocked him down--and if he grumbled at that, I always
sent him out of the room.

Mrs. MALAPROP
Ay, and the properest way, o' my conscience! --nothing is so
conciliating to young people as severity. --Well, Sir Anthony, I shall
give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's
invocations;--and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an
object not altogether illegible.

Sir ANTHONY
Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. --Well, I must leave you;
and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to
the girl. --Take my advice--keep a tight hand: if she rejects this
proposal, clap her under lock and key; and if you were just to let the
servants forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't
conceive how she'd come about. [Exit. ]

Mrs. MALAPROP
Well, at any rate, I shall be glad to get her from under my intuition.
She has somehow discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius
O'Trigger--sure, Lucy can't have betrayed me! --No, the girl is such a
simpleton, I should have made her confess it. --Lucy! --Lucy! --[Calls. ]
Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should never have trusted
her.

[Re-enter LUCY. ]

LUCY
Did you call, ma'am?

Mrs. MALAPROP
Yes, girl. --Did you see Sir Lucius while you was out?

LUCY
No, indeed, ma'am, not a glimpse of him.

Mrs. MALAPROP
You are sure, Lucy, that you never mentioned----

LUCY
Oh gemini! I'd sooner cut my tongue out.

Mrs. MALAPROP
Well, don't let your simplicity be imposed on.

LUCY
No, ma'am.

Mrs. MALAPROP
So, come to me presently, and I'll give you another letter to Sir
Lucius; but mind, Lucy--if ever you betray what you are entrusted with
(unless it be other people's secrets to me), you forfeit my malevolence
for ever; and your being a simpleton shall be no excuse for your
locality. [Exit. ]

LUCY
Ha! ha! ha! --So, my dear Simplicity, let me give you a little
respite. --[Altering her manner. ] Let girls in my station be as fond as
they please of appearing expert, and knowing in their trusts; commend
me to a mask of silliness, and a pair of sharp eyes for my own interest
under it! --Let me see to what account have I turned my simplicity
lately. --[Looks at a paper. ] For _abetting Miss Lydia Languish in a
design of running away with an ensign! --in money, sundry times, twelve
pound twelve; gowns, five; hats, ruffles, caps, &c. , &c. ,
numberless! --From the said ensign, within this last month, six guineas
and a half_. --About a quarter's pay!