Act V

Scene I. Sealand’s House.

Enter Phillis, with lights, before Myrtle, disguised like old Sir Geoffry; supported by Mrs. Sealand, Lucinda, and Cimberton.
Mrs. Sealand Now I have seen you thus far, Sir Geoffry, will you excuse me a moment while I give my necessary orders for your accommodation?
Exit Mrs. Sealand.
Myrtle I have not seen you, cousin Cimberton, since you were ten years old; and as it is incumbent on you to keep up our name and family, I shall, upon very reasonable terms, join with you in a settlement to that purpose. Though I must tell you, cousin, this is the first merchant that has married into our house.
Lucinda Deuce on ’em! am I a merchant because my father is? Aside.
Myrtle But is he directly a trader at this time?
Cimberton There’s no hiding the disgrace, sir; he trades to all parts of the world.
Myrtle We never had one of our family before who descended from persons that did anything.
Cimberton Sir, since it is a girl that they have, I am, for the honour of my family, willing to take it in again, and to sink her into our name, and no harm done.
Myrtle ’Tis prudently and generously resolved⁠—Is this the young thing?
Cimberton Yes, sir.
Phillis Good madam, don’t be out of humour, but let them run to the utmost of their extravagance.⁠—Hear them out. To Lucinda.
Myrtle Can’t I see her nearer? My eyes are but weak.
Phillis Beside, I am sure the uncle has something worth your notice. I’ll take care to get off the young one, and leave you to observe what may be wrought out of the old one for your good. To Lucinda.
Exit.
Cimberton Madam, this old gentleman, your great uncle, desires to be introduced to you, and to see you nearer!⁠—Approach, sir.
Myrtle By your leave, young lady. Puts on spectacles.⁠—Cousin Cimberton! She has exactly that sort of neck and bosom for which my sister Gertrude was so much admired in the year sixty-one, before the French dresses first discovered anything in women below the chin.
Lucinda Aside. What a very odd situation am I in! though I cannot but be diverted at the extravagance of their humours, equally unsuitable to their age⁠—Chin, quotha⁠—I don’t believe my passionate lover there knows whether I have one or not. Ha! ha!
Myrtle Madam, I would not willingly offend, but I have a better glass. Pulls out a large one.
Enter Phillis.
Phillis To Cimberton. Sir, my lady desires to show the apartment to you that she intends for Sir Geoffry.
Cimberton Well, sir! by that time you will have sufficiently gazed and sunned yourself in the beauties of my spouse there.⁠—I will wait on you again.
Exit Cimberton and Phillis.
Myrtle Were it not, madam, that I might be troublesome, there is something of importance, though we are alone, which I would say more safe from being heard.
Lucinda There is something in this old fellow, methinks, that raises my curiosity. Aside.
Myrtle To be free, madam, I as heartily contemn this kinsman of mine as you do, and am sorry to see so much beauty and merit devoted by your parents to so insensible a possessor.
Lucinda Surprising!⁠—I hope, then, sir, you will not contribute to the wrong you are so generous as to pity, whatever may be the interest of your family.
Myrtle This hand of mine shall never be employed to sign anything against your good and happiness.
Lucinda I am sorry, sir, it is not in my power to make you proper acknowledgments; but there is a gentleman in the world whose gratitude will, I am sure, be worthy of the favour.
Myrtle All the thanks I desire, madam, are in your power to give.
Lucinda Name them and command them.
Myrtle Only, madam, that the first time you are alone with your lover, you will, with open arms, receive him.
Lucinda As willingly as his heart could wish it.
Myrtle Thus, then, he claims your promise. O Lucinda!
Lucinda Oh! a cheat! a cheat! a cheat!
Myrtle Hush! ’tis I, ’tis I, your lover, Myrtle himself, madam.
Lucinda O bless me! what a rashness and folly to surprise me so⁠—But hush⁠—my mother.
Enter Mrs. Sealand, Cimberton, and Phillis.
Mrs. Sealand How now! what’s the matter?
Lucinda O madam! as soon as you left the room my uncle fell into a sudden fit, and⁠—and⁠—so I cried out for help to support him and conduct him to his chamber.
Mrs. Sealand That was kindly done! Alas! sir, how do you find yourself?
Myrtle Never was taken in so odd a way in my life⁠—pray lead me! Oh! I was talking here⁠—(pray carry me)⁠—to my cousin Cimberton’s young lady.
Mrs. Sealand Aside. My cousin Cimberton’s young lady! How zealous he is, even in his extremity, for the match! A right Cimberton. Cimberton and Lucinda lead him, as one in pain.
Cimberton Pox! Uncle, you will pull my ear off.
Lucinda Pray, uncle! you will squeeze me to death.
Mrs. Sealand No matter, no matter⁠—he knows not what he does.⁠—Come, sir, shall I help you out?
Myrtle By no means! I’ll trouble nobody but my young cousins here. They lead him off.
Phillis But pray, madam, does your ladyship intend that Mr. Cimberton shall really marry my young mistress at last? I don’t think he likes her.
Mrs. Sealand That’s not material! Men of his speculation are above desires⁠—but be as it may. Now I have given old Sir Geoffry the trouble of coming up to sign and seal, with what countenance can I be off?
Phillis As well as with twenty others, madam. It is the glory and honour of a great fortune to live in continual treaties, and still to break off: it looks great, madam.
Mrs. Sealand True, Phillis⁠—yet to return our blood again into the Cimbertons is an honour not to be rejected⁠—But were not you saying that Sir John Bevil’s creature, Humphry, has been with Mr. Sealand?
Phillis Yes, madam; I overheard them agree that Mr. Sealand should go himself and visit this unknown lady that Mr. Bevil is so great with; and if he found nothing there to fright him, that Mr. Bevil should still marry my young mistress.
Mrs. Sealand How! nay, then, he shall find she is my daughter as well as his. I’ll follow him this instant, and take the whole family along with me. The disputed power of disposing of my own daughter shall be at an end this very night. I’ll live no longer in anxiety for a little hussy that hurts my appearance wherever I carry her: and for whose sake I seem to be at all regarded, and that in the best of my days.
Phillis Indeed, madam, if she were married, your ladyship might very well be taken for Mr. Sealand’s daughter.
Mrs. Sealand Nay, when the chit has not been with me, I have heard the men say as much. I’ll no longer cut off the greatest pleasure of a woman’s life (the shining in assemblies) by her forward anticipation of the respect that’s due to her superior. She shall down to Cimberton-Hall⁠—she shall⁠—she shall.
Phillis I hope, madam, I shall stay with your ladyship.
Mrs. Sealand Thou shalt, Phillis, and I’ll place thee then more about me⁠—But order chairs immediately; I’ll be gone this minute.
Exeunt.

Scene II. Charing Cross.

Enter Mr. Sealand and Humphry.
Mr. Sealand I am very glad, Mr. Humphry, that you agree with me that it is for our common good I should look thoroughly into this matter.
Humphry I am, indeed, of that opinion; for there is no artifice, nothing concealed, in our family, which ought in justice to be known. I need not desire you, sir, to treat the lady with care and respect.
Mr. Sealand Master Humphry, I shall not be rude, though I design to be a little abrupt, and come into the matter at once, to see how she will bear upon a surprise.
Humphry That’s the door, sir; I wish you success.⁠—While Humphry speaks, Sealand consults his table book.⁠—I am less concerned what happens there, because I hear Mr. Myrtle is well lodged as old Sir Geoffry; so I am willing to let this gentleman employ himself here, to give them time at home; for I am sure ’tis necessary for the quiet of our family Lucinda were disposed of out of it, since Mr. Bevil’s inclination is so much otherwise engaged.
Exit.
Mr. Sealand I think this is the door. Knocks. I’ll carry this matter with an air of authority, to inquire, though I make an errand, to begin discourse. Knocks again, and enter a foot-boy. So young man! is your lady within?
Boy Alack, sir! I am but a country boy⁠—I dant know whether she is or noa; but an you’ll stay a bit, I’ll goa and ask the gentlewoman that’s with her.
Mr. Sealand Why, sirrah, though you are a country boy, you can see, can’t you? You know whether she is at home, when you see her, don’t you?
Boy Nay, nay, I’m not such a country lad neither, master, to think she’s at home because I see her. I have been in town but a month, and I lost one place already for believing my own eyes.
Mr. Sealand Why, sirrah! have you learnt to lie already?
Boy Ah, master! things that are lies in the country are not lies at London. I begin to know my business a little better than so⁠—But an you please to walk in, I’ll call a gentlewoman to you that can tell you for certain⁠—she can make bold to ask my lady herself.
Mr. Sealand Oh! then, she is within, I find, though you dare not say so.
Boy Nay, nay! that’s neither here nor there: what’s matter whether she is within or no, if she has not a mind to see anybody?
Mr. Sealand I can’t tell, sirrah, whether you are arch or simple; but, however, get me a direct answer, and here’s a shilling for you.
Boy Will you please to walk in; I’ll see what I can do for you.
Mr. Sealand I see you will be fit for your business in time, child; but I expect to meet with nothing but extraordinaries in such a house.
Boy Such a house! Sir, you han’t seen it yet. Pray walk in.
Mr. Sealand Sir, I’ll wait upon you.
Exeunt.

Scene III. Indiana’s House.

Enter Isabella.
Isabella What anxiety do I feel for this poor creature! What will be the end of her? Such a languishing unreserved passion for a man that at last must certainly leave or ruin her! and perhaps both! Then the aggravation of the distress is, that she does not believe he will⁠—not but, I must own, if they are both what they would seem, they are made for one another, as much as Adam and Eve were, for there is no other of their kind but themselves.
Enter Boy.
So, Daniel! what news with you?
Boy Madam, there’s a gentleman below would speak with my lady.
Isabella Sirrah! don’t you know Mr. Bevil yet?
Boy Madam, ’tis not the gentleman who comes every day, and asks for you, and won’t go in till he knows whether you are with her or no.
Isabella Ha! that’s a particular I did not know before. Well! be it who it will, let him come up to me.
Exit Boy; and reenters with Mr. Sealand; Isabella looks amazed.
Mr. Sealand Madam, I can’t blame your being a little surprised to see a perfect stranger make a visit, and⁠—
Isabella I am indeed surprised!⁠—I see he does not know me. Aside.
Mr. Sealand You are very prettily lodged here, madam; in troth you seem to have everything in plenty⁠—A thousand a year, I warrant you, upon this pretty nest of rooms, and the dainty one within them. Aside, and looking about.
Isabella Apart. Twenty years, it seems, have less effect in the alteration of a man of thirty than of a girl of fourteen⁠—he’s almost still the same; but alas! I find, by other men, as well as himself, I am not what I was. As soon as he spoke, I was convinced ’twas he; how shall I contain my surprise and satisfaction! He must not know me yet.
Mr. Sealand Madam, I hope I don’t give you any disturbance; but there is a young lady here with whom I have a particular business to discourse, and I hope she will admit me to that favour.
Isabella Why, sir, have you had any notice concerning her? I wonder who could give it you.
Mr. Sealand That, madam, is fit only to be communicated to herself.
Isabella Well, sir! you shall see her.⁠—Aside. I find he knows nothing yet, nor shall from me. I am resolved I will observe this interlude, this sport of nature and of fortune.⁠—You shall see her presently, sir; for now I am as a mother, and will trust her with you.
Exit.
Mr. Sealand As a mother! right; that’s the old phrase for one of those commode ladies, who lend out beauty for hire to young gentlemen that have pressing occasions. But here comes the precious lady herself. In troth a very sightly woman⁠—
Enter Indiana.
Indiana I am told, sir, you have some affair that requires your speaking with me.
Mr. Sealand Yes, madam, there came to my hands a bill drawn by Mr. Bevil, which is payable tomorrow; and he, in the intercourse of business, sent it to me, who have cash of his, and desired me to send a servant with it; but I have made bold to bring you the money myself.
Indiana Sir! was that necessary?
Mr. Sealand No, madam; but to be free with you, the fame of your beauty, and the regard which Mr. Bevil is a little too well known to have for you, excited my curiosity.
Indiana Too well known to have for me! Your sober appearance, sir, which my friend described, made me expect no rudeness, or absurdity, at least⁠—Who’s there?⁠—Sir, if you pay the money to a servant, ’twill be as well.
Mr. Sealand Pray, madam, be not offended; I came hither on an innocent, nay, a virtuous design; and, if you will have patience to hear me, it may be as useful to you, as you are in a friendship with Mr. Bevil, as to my only daughter, whom I was this day disposing of.
Indiana You make me hope, sir, I have mistaken you. I am composed again; be free, say on⁠—Aside.⁠—what I am afraid to hear.
Mr. Sealand I feared, indeed, an unwarranted passion here, but I did not think it was in abuse of so worthy an object, so accomplished a lady as your sense and mien bespeak; but the youth of our age care not what merit and virtue they bring to shame, so they gratify⁠—
Indiana Sir, you are going into very great errors; but as you are pleased to say you see something in me that has changed at least the colour of your suspicions, so has your appearance altered mine, and made me earnestly attentive to what has any way concerned you to inquire into my affairs and character.
Mr. Sealand How sensibly, with what an air she talks!
Indiana Good sir, be seated, and tell me tenderly; keep all your suspicions concerning me alive, that you may in a proper and prepared way acquaint me why the care of your daughter obliges a person of your seeming worth and fortune to be thus inquisitive about a wretched, helpless, friendless⁠—Weeping. But I beg your pardon; though I am an orphan, your child is not; and your concern for her, it seems, has brought you hither.⁠—I’ll be composed; pray go on, sir.
Mr. Sealand How could Mr. Bevil be such a monster, to injure such a woman?
Indiana No, sir, you wrong him; he has not injured me. My support is from his bounty.
Mr. Sealand Bounty! when gluttons give high prices for delicates, they are prodigious bountiful.
Indiana Still, still you will persist in that error. But my own fears tell me all. You are the gentleman, I suppose, for whose happy daughter he is designed a husband by his good father, and he has, perhaps, consented to the overture. He was here this morning, dressed beyond his usual plainness⁠—nay, most sumptuously⁠—and he is to be, perhaps, this night a bridegroom.
Mr. Sealand I own he was intended such; but, madam, on your account, I have determined to defer my daughter’s marriage till I am satisfied from your own mouth of what nature are the obligations you are under to him.
Indiana His actions, sir; his eyes have only made me think he designed to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his demeanour made me misinterpret all. ’Twas my own hope, my own passion, that deluded me; he never made one amorous advance to me. His large heart, and bestowing hand, have only helped the miserable; nor know I why, but from his mere delight in virtue, that I have been his care and the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favours.
Mr. Sealand Madam, I know not why it is, but I, as well as you, am methinks afraid of entering into the matter I came about; but ’tis the same thing as if we had talked never so distinctly⁠—he ne’er shall have a daughter of mine.
Indiana If you say this from what you think of me, you wrong yourself and him. Let not me, miserable though I may be, do injury to my benefactor. No, sir, my treatment ought rather to reconcile you to his virtues. If to bestow without a prospect of return; if to delight in supporting what might, perhaps, be thought an object of desire, with no other view than to be her guard against those who would not be so disinterested; if these actions, sir, can in a careful parent’s eye commend him to a daughter, give yours, sir, give her to my honest, generous Bevil. What have I to do but sigh, and weep, and rave, run wild, a lunatic in chains, or, hid in darkness, mutter in distracted starts and broken accents my strange, strange story!
Mr. Sealand Take comfort, madam.
Indiana All my comfort must be to expostulate in madness, to relieve with frenzy my despair, and shrieking to demand of fate why⁠—why was I born to such variety of sorrows.
Mr. Sealand If I have been the least occasion⁠—
Indiana No, ’twas Heaven’s high will I should be such; to be plundered in my cradle! tossed on the seas! and even there an infant captive! to lose my mother, hear but of my father! to be adopted! lose my adopter! then plunged again into worse calamities!
Mr. Sealand An infant captive!
Indiana Yet then, to find the most charming of mankind, once more to set me free from what I thought the last distress, to load me with his services, his bounties, and his favours; to support my very life in a way that stole, at the same time, my very soul itself from me.
Mr. Sealand And has young Bevil been this worthy man?
Indiana Yet then, again, this very man to take another! without leaving me the right, the pretence of easing my fond heart with tears! For, oh! I can’t reproach him, though the same hand that raised me to this height now throws me down the precipice.
Mr. Sealand Dear lady! Oh, yet one moment’s patience: my heart grows full with your affliction.⁠—But yet there’s something in your story that⁠—
Indiana My portion here is bitterness and sorrow.
Mr. Sealand Do not think so. Pray answer me: does Bevil know your name and family?
Indiana Alas! too well! Oh, could I be any other thing than what I am⁠—I’ll tear away all traces of my former self, my little ornaments, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have been⁠—
In her disorder she throws away a bracelet, which Sealand takes up, and looks earnestly on it.
Mr. Sealand Ha! what’s this? My eyes are not deceived! It is, it is the same! the very bracelet which I bequeathed to my wife at our last mournful parting.
Indiana What said you, sir? Your wife? Whither does my fancy carry me? What means this unfelt motion at my heart? And yet, again my fortune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my lost father’s name was⁠—
Mr. Sealand Danvers; was it not?
Indiana What new amazement? That is, indeed, my family.
Mr. Sealand Know, then, when my misfortunes drove me to the Indies, for reasons too tedious now to mention, I changed my name of Danvers into Sealand.
Enter Isabella.
Isabella If yet there wants an explanation of your wonder, examine well this face (yours, sir, I well remember), gaze on and read in me your sister, Isabella.
Mr. Sealand My sister!
Isabella But here’s a claim more tender yet⁠—your Indiana, sir, your long-lost daughter.
Mr. Sealand Oh, my child! my child!
Indiana All gracious Heaven! is it possible! do I embrace my father?
Mr. Sealand And I do hold thee.⁠—These passions are too strong for utterance. Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way.⁠—Oh, my sister! Embracing her.
Isabella Now, dearest niece, my groundless fears, my painful cares no more shall vex thee. If I have wronged thy noble lover with too much suspicion, my just concern for thee, I hope, will plead my pardon.
Mr. Sealand Oh! make him, then, the full amends, and be yourself the messenger of joy. Fly this instant! tell him all these wondrous turns of Providence in his favour! Tell him I have now a daughter to bestow which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his acceptance.
Exit Isabella.
My dearest Indiana! Turns and embraces her.
Indiana Have I, then, at last, a father’s sanction on my love? His bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil’s generosity?
Mr. Sealand Oh, my child! how are our sorrows past o’erpaid by such a meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft paternal dalliance with thee, yet, in one day to find thee thus, and thus bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is ample, ample reparation!⁠—And yet, again, the merit of thy lover⁠—
Indiana Oh! had I spirits left to tell you of his actions! how strongly filial duty has suppressed his love; and how concealment still has doubled all his obligations; the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir, would warm your heart, as he has conquered mine.
Mr. Sealand How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace him⁠—
Indiana See, sir, my aunt already has succeeded, and brought him to your wishes.
Enter Isabella, with Sir John Bevil, Bevil Jr., Mrs. Sealand, Cimberton, Myrtle, and Lucinda.
John Bevil Entering. Where, where’s this scene of wonder? Mr. Sealand, I congratulate, on this occasion, our mutual happiness⁠—Your good sister, sir, has, with the story of your daughter’s fortune, filled us with surprise and joy. Now all exceptions are removed; my son has now avowed his love, and turned all former jealousies and doubts to approbation; and, I am told, your goodness has consented to reward him.
Mr. Sealand If, sir, a fortune equal to his father’s hopes can make this object worthy his acceptance.
Bevil Jr. I hear your mention, sir, of fortune, with pleasure only as it may prove the means to reconcile the best of fathers to my love. Let him be provident, but let me be happy.⁠—My ever-destined, my acknowledged wife! Embracing Indiana.
Indiana Wife! Oh, my ever loved! My lord! my master!
John Bevil I congratulate myself, as well as you, that I had a son who could, under such disadvantages, discover your great merit.
Mr. Sealand Oh, Sir John! how vain, how weak is human prudence! What care, what foresight, what imagination could contrive such blest events, to make our children happy, as Providence in one short hour has laid before us?
Cimberton To Mrs. Sealand. I am afraid, madam, Mr. Sealand is a little too busy for our affair. If you please, we’ll take another opportunity.
Mrs. Sealand Let us have patience, sir.
Cimberton But we make Sir Geoffry wait, madam.
Myrtle O, sir, I am not in haste.
During this, Bevil Jr., presents Lucinda to Indiana.
Mr. Sealand But here! here’s our general benefactor! Excellent young man, that could be at once a lover to her beauty and a parent to her virtue.
Bevil Jr. If you think that an obligation, sir, give me leave to overpay myself, in the only instance that can now add to my felicity, by begging you to bestow this lady on Mr. Myrtle.
Mr. Sealand She is his without reserve; I beg he may be sent for. Mr. Cimberton, notwithstanding you never had my consent, yet there is, since I last saw you, another objection to your marriage with my daughter.
Cimberton I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nothing from me?
Mr. Sealand Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from myself⁠—another daughter, who has an undoubted title to half my estate.
Cimberton How, Mr. Sealand? Why, then, if half Mrs. Lucinda’s fortune is gone, you can’t say that any of my estate is settled upon her. I was in treaty for the whole; but if that is not to be come at, to be sure there can be no bargain. Sir, I have nothing to do but take my leave of your good lady, my cousin, and beg pardon for the trouble I have given this old gentleman.
Myrtle That you have, Mr. Cimberton, with all my heart. Discovers himself.
All Mr. Myrtle!
Myrtle And I beg pardon of the whole company that I assumed the person of Sir Geoffry, only to be present at the danger of this lady being disposed of, and in her utmost exigence to assert my right to her; which, if her parents will ratify, as they once favoured my pretensions, no abatement of fortune shall lessen her value to me.
Lucinda Generous man!
Mr. Sealand If, sir, you can overlook the injury of being in treaty with one who has meanly left her, as you have generously asserted your right in her, she is yours.
Lucinda Mr. Myrtle, though you have ever had my heart, yet now I find I love you more, because I bring you less.
Myrtle We have much more than we want; and I am glad any event has contributed to the discovery of our real inclinations to each other.
Mrs. Sealand Well! however, I’m glad the girl’s disposed of, anyway. Aside.
Bevil Jr. Myrtle, no longer rivals now, but brothers!
Myrtle Dear Bevil, you are born to triumph over me! but now our competition ceases; I rejoice in the preeminence of your virtue, and your alliance adds charms to Lucinda.
John Bevil Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair example: your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit; and the several difficulties you have struggled with evidently show⁠—

Whate’er the generous mind itself denies,
The secret care of Providence supplies.

Exeunt.