Mrs. Mel. How glad then am I to have found you!

Mel. I should have mentioned my objections indeed last night, if we had not returned home from that vile ball so abominably late. Why, why in heaven's name, will you attach yourself to the set you know I detest. Can't you be satisfied with them in town; must you follow them in the country?

You know they

Mrs. Mel. Follow them? were at Bath, and accepted lady Ruinall's invitation-how could I avoid meeting them?

Mel. And you must have that puppy Fightwell for your beau too, the very man you know I dislike above all others.

Mrs. Mel. I never heard you express your dislike.

Mel. And can my meaning be discovered by words alone there was a time when you anticipated my wishes, and even my thoughts.

Mrs. Mel. Alas! how can I anticipate your wishes when I scarcely ever see you, and on whose arm shall I lean for support in crouds, if you refuse me yours-you know in your absence all my pleasure is but affected.

Mel. Really?

Mrs. Mel. Can you doubt it?

Mel. Ah! you women are so skilful in ensnaring our affections, and when you once have us in your toils, you tear and mangle us so unmercifully; to believe you, to trust you, to con

fide in is to take the transient blaze of the you, meteor for the steady warmth and radiance of the sun-we follow you as if your steps led to eternal life, and light, and joy-then on a sudden we find ourselves tossed about by inexplicable caprices, and—

Mrs. Mel. Stop, Melville, stop, let me save you from remorse, let me do you a real service, at least in one instance, by depriving you of the Exit. opportunity of insulting me.

Mel. There's a flight of pride! there's your pomp of passion! there's your magnificence of anger! there's your parade and formality of married authority! What an ideot a man is that marries! All other tyranny is freedom to the marriage state-in other despotisms the blow is directed clumsily from a distance, and as often miscarries as succeeds-but the refined, pointed, inspecting oppression of a wife, no defence can protect you from.

Enter MELLEFONT and DAZZLE.

Mellef. Where in such a hurry, Melville? here's your old friend Dazzle.

Mel. Ah! I am heartily glad to see him, most heartily. (Shaking him by the hand.)

Mellef. So, Melville, you had a quarrel with Fightwell last night.

Daz. I assure you I was very near being the

f

bearer of a challenge, this morning, and indeed I am afraid it will follow close upon my heels. Mel. It is well-it is perfectly well-then all will be accomplished.

Mellef. What are you thinking of.

Mel. Oh, yes, you were speaking of Fightwell, yes I met him in the croud at the ball, where, after we had been pushing against each other for some time, he gave me a kick on the leg, so without ceremony I pulled him by the

nose.

Enter SERVANT with a note to DAZZLE.

Daz. As I expected, here's a note for you, Melville, enclosed.

Mellef. But you won't meet him?

Mel. Why not?

Mellef. Do you know what sort of a fellow he is?

Mel. Who does not know him? one with high spirits, supported by the idea of his skill in the art of duelling, which in his imagination makes all the world afraid of him-rude and impertinent by disposition, and encouraged by long impunity.

Daz. Yet, upon my soul, he is not ill-natured.

Mellef. Oh, no, he would not shed the blood of any man, except from mere vanity—but are not you afraid of him Charles?

Mel. Afraid? not I, I am too young to despise the opinion of the world, and as for

my life, it is so clouded, where I expected nothing but sunshine

Mellef. Pshaw!-pshaw !-man.

Mel. Poisoned so near its source, that no accidental stream can purify it-and how muddy and thick it will be when it has run on for some years more, I tremble to think.

Daz. What answer shall I give to Fightwell? he is now at the village, at your park-gate.

Mel. Why tell him I'll meet him an hour hence, under the old ruin.

Mellef. Melville, let me conclude your message, I know your antagonist perfectly.

Mel. As you please, I have no great skill in these affairs.

Mellef. Then, Dazzle, tell your friend we must have none of his long shots. Melville shall have an equal chance, by the conditions of the combat-they must fight across a handkerchief.

Daz. Are you serious?

Mellef. Perfectly, I am not surprized at this challenge, and I have long considered the measures which ought be taken with such a

man.

Daz. But what say you Melville ?

Mel. I leave the whole business to Mellefont I would not disappoint him in his wishes to describe me on my tomb-stone.

Daz. Well-then I'll go and inform Fightwell of your determination.

Mellef. Don't forget the handkerchief. (Nodding significantly.)

Daz. Oh no, depend upon me.

Mellef. I'll be your second, Charles.

Exit.

Mel. No, no, your life is too valuable to be sported with. Think of poor Emily. I'll go in search of Settle; his cursed coolness fits him for the office exactly. Exeunt.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.