Sir Anth. Come, we must leave them together; Mrs. Malaprop, they long to fly into each other’s arms, I warrant!—Jack, isn’t the cheek as I said, hey?—and the eye, you rogue?—and the lip— hey? Come, Mrs. Malaprop, we’ll not disturb their tenderness— theirs is the time of life for happiness!—Youth’s the season made for joy—[Sings]—hey!—Odds life! I’m in such spirits,—I don’t know what I could not do!—Permit me, ma’am—[Gives his hand to Mrs. Malaprop.] Tol-de-rol—’gad, I should like to have a little fooling myself—Tol-de-rol! de-rol.

[Exit, singing and handing Mrs. Malaprop.—Lydia sits sullenly in her chair.

Abs. [Aside.] So much thought bodes me no good.—[Aloud.] So grave, Lydia!

Lyd. Sir!

Abs. [Aside.] So!—egad! I thought as much!—that damned monosyllable has froze me!—[Aloud.] What, Lydia, now that we are as happy in our friends’ consent, as in our mutual vows—

Lyd. Friends’ consent indeed!

[Peevishly.

Abs. Come, come, we must lay aside some of our romance—a little and comfort may be endured after all. And for your fortune, the lawyers shall make such settlements as—

Lyd. Lawyers! I hate lawyers!

Abs. Nay, then, we will not wait for their lingering forms, but instantly procure the license, and—

Lyd. The license!—I hate license!

Abs. Oh my love! be not so unkind!—thus let me entreat—

[Kneeling.

Lyd. Psha!—what signifies kneeling, when you know I must have you?

Abs. [Rising.] Nay, madame, there shall be no constraint upon your inclinations, I promise you.—If I have lost your heart—I resign the rest—[Aside.] ’Gad, I must try what a little spirit will do.

Lyd. [Rising.] Then, sir, let me tell you, the interest you had there was acquired by a mean, unmanly imposition, and deserves the punishment of fraud.—What, you have been treating me like a child!—humouring my romance! and laughing, I suppose, at your success!

Abs. You wrong me, Lydia, you wrong me—only hear—

Lyd. So, while I fondly imagined we were deceiving my relations, and flattered myself that I should outwit and incense them all—behold my hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt’s consent and approbation—and I am myself the only dupe at last!— [Walking about in a heat.] But here, sir, here is the picture— Beverley’s picture! [taking a miniature from her bosom] which I have worn, night and day, in spite of threats and entreaties!— There, sir; [flings it to him] and be assured I throw the original from my heart as easily.

Abs. Nay, nay, ma’am, we will not differ as to that.—Here, [taking out a picture] here is Miss Lydia Languish.—What a difference!—ay, there is the heavenly assenting smile that first gave soul and spirit to my hopes!—those are the lips which sealed a vow, as yet scarce dry in Cupid’s calendar! and there the half-resentful blush, that would have checked the ardour of my thanks!—Well, all that’s past?—all over indeed!—There,