"_Lady S._ Undoubtedly; I would not for the world--Simple fool!

(_aside._) But my wishes, my happiness depend on you--for, I doat so on the insensible, that it kills me to see him so attached to you.

Give me but Clerimont, and--

"_Mar._ Clerimont!

"_Lady S._ Sir Benjamin, you know, I meant. Is he not attached to you? am I not slighted for you? Yet, do I bear any enmity to you, as my rival? I only request your friendly intercession, and you are so ungrateful, you would deny me that.

"_Mar._ Nay, madam, have I not done everything you wished? For you, I have departed from truth, and contaminated my mind with falsehood-- what could I do more to serve you?

"_Lady S._ Well, forgive me, I was too warm. I know you would not betray me. I expect Sir Benjamin and his uncle this morning--why, Maria, do you always leave our little parties?

"_Mar._ I own, madam, I have no pleasure in their conversation. I have myself no gratification in uttering detraction, and therefore none in hearing it.

"_Lady S._ Oh fie, you are serious--'tis only a little harmless raillery.

"_Mar._ I never can think that harmless which hurts the peace of youth, draws tears from beauty, and gives many a pang to the innocent.

"_Lady S._ Nay, you must allow that many people of sense and wit have this foible--Sir Benjamin Backbite, for instance.

"_Mar._ He may, but I confess I never can perceive wit where I see malice.

"_Lady S._ Fie, Maria, you have the most unpolished way of thinking! It is absolutely impossible to be witty without being a little ill-natured. The malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick.

I protest now when I say an ill-natured thing, I have not the least malice against the person; and, indeed, it may be of one whom I never saw in my life; for I hate to abuse a friend--but I take it for granted, they all speak as ill-naturedly of me.

"_Mar._ Then you are, very probably, conscious you deserve it--for my part, I shall only suppose myself ill-spoken of, when I am conscious I deserve it."

"_Enter Servant._

"_Ser._ Mrs. Candor.

"_Mar._ Well, I'll leave you.

"_Lady S._ No, no, you have no reason to avoid her, she is good nature itself.

"_Mar._ Yes, with an artful affectation of candor, she does more injury than the worst backbiter of them all."

"_Enter_ MRS. CANDOR.

"_Mrs. Cand._ So, Lady Sneerwell, how d'ye do? Maria, child, how dost? Well, who is't you are to marry at last? Sir Benjamin or Clerimont? The town talks of nothing else."

Through the remainder of this scene the only difference in the speeches of Mrs. Candor is, that they abound more than at present in ludicrous names and anecdotes, and occasionally straggle into that loose wordiness, which, knowing how much it weakens the sap of wit, the good taste of Sheridan was always sure to lop away. The same may be said of the greater part of that scene of scandal which at present occurs in the second Act, and in which all that is now spoken by Lady Teazle, was originally put into the mouths of Sir Christopher Crab and others--the caustic remarks of Sir Peter Teazle being, as well as himself, an after creation.

It is chiefly, however, in Clerimont, the embryo of Charles Surface, that we perceive how imperfect may be the first lineaments, that Time and Taste contrive to mould gradually into beauty. The following is the scene that introduces him to the audience, and no one ought to be disheartened by the failure of a first attempt after reading it. The spiritless language--the awkward introduction of the sister into the plot--the antiquated expedient [Footnote: This objection seems to have occurred to himself; for one of his memorandums is--"Not to drop the letter, but take it from the maid.] of dropping the letter--all, in short, is of the most undramatic and most unpromising description, and as little like what it afterwards turned to as the block is to the statue, or the grub to the b.u.t.terfly.

"_Sir C._ This Clerimont is, to be sure, the drollest mortal! he is one of your moral fellows, who does unto others as he would they should do unto him.

"_Lady Sneer._ Yet he is sometimes entertaining.

"_Sir C._ Oh hang him, no--he has too much good nature to say a witty thing himself, and is too ill-natured to praise wit in others.

"_Enter_ CLERIMONT.

"_Sir B._ So, Clerimont--we were just wishing for you to enliven us with your wit and agreeable vein.

"_Cler._ No, Sir Benjamin, I cannot join you.

"_Sir B._ Why, man, you look as grave as a young lover the first time he is jilted.

"_Cler._ I have some cause to be grave, Sir Benjamin. A word with you all. I have just received a letter from the country, in which I understand that my sister has suddenly left my uncle's house, and has not since been heard of.

"_Lady S._ Indeed! and on what provocation?

"_Cler._ It seems they were urging her a little too hastily to marry some country squire that was not to her taste.

"_Sir B._ Positively I love her for her spirit.

"_Lady S._ And so do I, and would protect her, if I knew where she was.

"_Cler._ Sir Benjamin, a word with you--(_takes him apart_.) I think, sir, we have lived for some years on what the world calls the footing of friends.

"_Sir B._ To my great honor, sir.--Well, my dear friend?

"_Cler._ You know that you once paid your addresses to my sister.

My uncle disliked you; but I have reason to think you were not indifferent to her.

"_Sir B._ I believe you are pretty right there; but what follows?

"_Cler._ Then I think I have a right to expect an implicit answer from you, whether you are in any respect privy to her elopement?

"_Sir B._ Why, you certainly have a right to ask the question, and I will answer you as sincerely--which is, that though I make no doubt but that she would have gone with me to the world's end, I am at present entirely ignorant of the whole affair. This I declare to you upon my honor--and, what is more, I a.s.sure you my devotions are at present paid to another lady--one of your acquaintance, too.

"_Cler._ (_Aside_.) Now, who can this other be whom he alludes to?--I have sometimes thought I perceived a kind of mystery between him and Maria--but I rely on her promise, though, of late, her conduct to me has been strangely reserved.

"_Lady S._ Why, Clerimont, you seem quite thoughtful. Come with us; we are going to kill an hour at ombre--your mistress will join us.

"_Cler._ Madam, I attend you.

"_Lady S. (Taking Sir B. aside.)_ Sir Benjamin, I see Maria is now coming to join us--do you detain her awhile, and I will contrive that Clerimont should see you, and then drop this letter.

"[Exeunt all but Sir. B.]

"_Enter_ MARIA.

"_Mar._ I thought the company were here, and Clerimont--

"_Sir B._ One, more your slave than Clerimont, is here.

"_Mar._ Dear Sir Benjamin, I thought you promised me to drop this subject. If I have really any power over you, you will oblige me--