The works of Henry Mackenzie, esq Volume 8

Henry Mackenzie · Chapter 1 of 1 · part 8/8

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The works of Henry Mackenzie, esq Volume 8

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This chapter is long, so it is split into 8 parts.

tttRi tbe lole hom we the wont (^kH— addon at boiliettUt*o or ditee in-Ae HMwaiagr—aad sonifi-timet' myaiutef is jnst^gfoiD^-to bed.

at th« boor we DKd'to me at Sed1r)^•Hall, wboi I first serred Iiis-fetlier;> and'Whttt Iipaw oar aei^bonr ladj Sqneeati^s^ deor at noeai^ Iiaift laughed at hy halfr »-doz» Issf f6otBi«L7«ffTDt6g tbeBHwlves aw«ke on the stepi in their t^ppna add papiUota.

Mim Biati Btit jou don't keep these late hours; yon don't sit up for yosr mttster, sure i hu new travelled -niet de chamUre^ i sbo^

auppos^ ih»dd' have tiiat effioa; he ia- youiger, uid more UMdto tfaebinineaK

Will. Why, so he is; bet I don't koow how, I cannot go* to ekepy till I aea ray maater sifely come home. And thongh be chidea me for wait ingj y^bmethinbihe bbea me about him as w^ aa Jenkins.. JenkisBy to dohii^jusliGe, is a clever handy lad, and fits oar youfig »aater> for gmag abKwd, to a nicety. He kndws the town ao well, and looks, so spruce and; a». neat, and talka Frendv. so-gHUy. Bnt when matter getsbome, ha takes BcaaahoW' move kmdly to old WiUiam, {4ain and clnm^- as be be. Jenkini it like hia fine nUc «mt>

,.:i:,Cc)Ot^le

THE 'WBtT^ HTrOCKITE. Sir

fiat looln SO ^y and utB m tight. I'ftm ISke ha flaiuiel nigtit^WD, which is an ilUlookii^ ^uqg to be sore, bat th«i hecim siretiifa hinneTT in't

Mia Dan. Then, I'siipposej1ike<his'night-^own> j^ouarehiafamitiar(hesB. YonwiUhaTethelieep* mg of his teorete, William.

tVUL Why, betvieenyon8Bd'mej'I believe ao; not bat that Jraikitu is tnu^ enODgb> but master osn't be so free with him aboat tome things.— Twas but't'otberdaybe went to visit a.poor family, whoqk we had aeoidentally fodnd oat to be in a sad deal of disb^es. The Either

^as an oflieer tinhalf'-pay, and bad been arrested fw debt He had awifle, a pretty BWeet-todciagciVbtufft, mid four as fine children as ever I clapped eyes im. My tsaiter> as il was a saying,'well t to Visit the hidy, to spetdc sbont relieving her hnsband. 'HetoMWe £he whok stoiy; but, God forgive hUa^ he let Jenkins believe, diU he went to see her In a mMghty way, and made hint ^t with a ha6kney-coach ftt

.the end of the street, that it might hot be kn'oWn Wfa^e he came fVou.

Mm Dan. So Jdskins Will believe him a sort of amtef i«ai*Go<>J^le

Sn FALSE SHAME, OR .

^tS. YeSf he SBys, fae is too pretty a gentleman, to be TutnoUB. , And heJanghed so at me, when I hmted the truth, of the story. He had gone to the banlcei'a for the oioaey we paid for the. poor gentleman in prison; and Jenkins would have it, that it was to pay what.hft called a debt of honour om master owed to A'.gentleman, whom Sir Charles Dormer had. mftde him acquainted .with.—Bn^

Lord be^ me! bowI.Htand talking, when I should be minding my business. I have got a letter here from mymaster, for <Hie Captain Wilkins; I was told^ I should probably find him here.

^in Z^lcm- I was told Jenkins was asking aAer turn ^itb anoUier letter. Was yours written after it? ..

Will. Nay,,for that matter,'tis-the same letterj a^ J^kins should hove been the bearer of it But I changed nessagea with him; because I

wish^ to see this Captain Wilkins, to ask about my poor-dear Mr Mountfort, one of the best friends I. ever had in .the world.

Misi Dan. The gentleman who. died in India i WiU, AhJ why did he die? He was a dpzen years younger than me.

But I thought it itpnld be some comfort to me to talk with this Captaia

i«ai*Goog[c

THE WHITE HYPOCRITB. S8B

Wilkios about him. I remembered liim ia my prayers,—in troth I did.

I was praying for him. When he was dead and gone,—for his safe return to England; but he was never to return. Well, he is ia heaven, if ever a good soul went thither i

Enter Tom, who whkpen Mia Danbt.

Mm Dan. ITo Tom, who goa out.'] Shew him

inp, by all means.—-Mr William, the gentleman you seek is below; I have desired Tom to shew him into this room. You need not mention my

being here.—^Tbe family are not at home to-day,

[Exit Mim Dahby.

ffiS. Yes, yes, old as I am, I have learned to tell that lie in London with a ttJerable t'ace.

Enter WltKins. WUk. IStarting at aght of miUam.'] Ha < this is unlucky, but perhaps—

WUL I was told, sir, you were Captain Wil-

Wilk. Yes, my name is Wilkins.

fVm. Good gracious!—rtbat voice—speak again, sir.—I am old, but not quite doting yet—that look, too!—If it were possible—^yes, sure it is he—

i«ai*Go<>J^le

m&. ^eak aoAly, my pxiA WiSma, and I will' tell yoa.

W^. Yes, I am William, and you are, ore jaa qot, my own dear good Mr Mountfort i

[TaMag, hkhand, and j^mom^ it.}

Wilk, Hush ! we shall be overheard.

}fttfiT)i«nImaktaot«&UyoaHoimtfi»t?bat— yoa are, yon arc—

Wtik. I am MoDntfortj and the same fnend M yott I ever was.

Wiii, Kesaed' heoren ! you we Mr Moimtfort; alivot and well! Bat tuy; my ^ar good air, bew yoo'are.so. We were told you were killed in In-dj^-^ed to be called WJlhuift'-^PardoD me> I have so mboy things to aik.

fVilk. Yon shall know all another time. But— (there is aobody'M

orferhear im^) I have reasooB for wishing t» be unkaowd a very little longer.

Will. Beaaons for being unlfflown! rakknowA tb my mfaater, t» your own boy, Mr Sedley! I remember the time when he used to call yov fii-■ther.

^^.'I'lhoidd'be aahamed tohave hini cdl me

i«ai*Goog[c

THB ^IvaiSB SVPOCKITU. SBl

WiB. Why, to benre, he is grovn quite a vma, aod AS proper a one m you would iriih.to look OD. Von wonldK»ree Icnow him now.

Wilk. His look ii not mncb altered, Williua; iHit his mind is woefully cbuiged indeed.

Wm. How!

Wilk. Yea; he has exchanged those prinoiplet <tf virtne, of £gni^j of bappiness, I had taught him, for the libertiQisin of principle to whieh ev«yfocd eanaspire, for the profligacy of oon-duct in which the meanest of mankind can rind him.

Will, Goodness bless me'! youdon't lay ab!-» Have you seen him since you came'bome i

WSk. Several times.

W^. And be did not knowj'oa ^-^Bless my old eyes! I knew you at once.—But be was no more liiaM aboy whenyottleft'tbis country; andyoung folks are so giddy, and so fbi^etful!—And you ue dtered too'; tbioiie hot countfies so spoil a man.— Alas! we were told you were dead.

WiSt. So all my ifrieuds 'thought me; i am not sure, Wi>&ali,ifjthaid not (been better BO. In ray own coontiy, I bave foimd litUe ft mtm

^ould

i«ai*Gqoj^lc

ma FALSE SHAIIE, 0B

regret to lose; yet, I forgot one blessing; my Jolia u yet mine, and wortby of me.

JViB. La! she ia indeed, and the sweetest pcetr tiest creature—my yonng jnaeter doatf OQ UeF. And I had once hopes, that it would have been a match—they would have made the loveliest couple!—

JVilk. Then you don't think be loves her sp much now i

Will. Why, I don't know; be lore^ her, certaifi sure; but these yonng fashionable fellows, ffant come sometimes about him^ say, a man should not marry the girl be loves.

/Tift. Indeed!

Will. Why, yes; they say iu quite an oat-of-the-way thing for a man oow-a-days to love his own wife.—He must many a woman, that brings him a power of money, which hell never lose the fimcy of, though it be bis own.

W^k. They talk so; Sedley's companions bdk so?

Will. Yea; Sir Charles Donuer, and'the rest. Sir Charles is such a fine jQaD, and has such an aji with vhat he says!

i«ai*Go<)glc

THE WHITB HTPOCRITB. SIS

' Wilk. Ji.j, 'tis tbat air^ that glosa of fashion, which dazzles the ahalloff, and misleads the weakv I had hoped, Sedley was above it.

Bat I will think no more of him.-

IViU. Tbiok no more of him! of my dear young master! What has he done to offend yoa i

fVilk. Under thia fortunate disgniae of b borrowed name, I have had opportonilies of seeing him to the bottom. Your innocence and integrity, my good old friend, wonjd not allow you to snppoae what I have found him; the irrerereut way h^ talks of me, and thinks of my daughter.

tVilL Is it possible! And can it be true, as Jei)f kins baa often told me, thitt he but diverta himself with me, and pots on a face to deceive mel But I won't believe it of him. I have proof to tbe contrary ; nay, for that matter, you shall have proof too. I have a letter here for you, that will set ^11 to rights, I -onike . no doubt oa't. Before Sir Charles, and such people as Sir Charles, he will talk a little idly sometimes;

but when be is left to himself, it is quite a different thing. Here is the letter; I dare auswet for it of tbe right sort.

[Ones WiLKiNs tile Letter.

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

MO FAUB tHAMB, OR

IfiOc. [Readiiig the Letter.^ H<Hr*stliu! "'Rie libertiet yon have sBoweil yumwlf to lue with te-gsrd to me, a nuB of boaoor - - - - coofage

to'justify"— Ib this of the right sort, William i A cbaHeage from your master!

WiU. AchaHenge! ftH-whatf

WSk. For a wrong of that monatrom kind, which be had no other way to viodicate. Those injuries, which neither petwm nor humanity can ex-onse, a man of honour, hke MrSedley, has " coik-iBge to JHilify;"

like a detected thief, who bold^ offers to box the passenger, who has found bit buid IB bis pocket

^I'tf. AwTODg teyon! and achidl^ge for that! Coold Mr Sedley do dm t

WtBc, Taking me for the joint-guardian of my daaghter, he had the proffigate impudence to offer me a bribe to coumre at his deergnB

open her; and, when I returned such an -answer as the proposal deserved, I must «DSwer to his JunoKr far the freedoms I have taken with him,—It waa ■offlething odd to choose you for Ac bearer of ttiis.

ITjiS, I was not the bearer of his chooamg. His valet de dumbie, Jenkins, was charged with that

l-i:iG0Og[C

TBB WBITB BTP0C»I1TB. SM

hOer, and we ezchai^ed eirsotls mi the w^.-~ Bdt there ii ■ome nuatake ia thiB; I am slue there is.

WSk. There can be no inistake^-'tiB hu hand^ Xkoow JL

ffm. He co<aId not mean it,—on my life he could Bot Wiik. Why, William, you do not know these meo-of fashioB.—This is what they call «e&»» la regla, according to mle. Slight offences may be atoned many ways,—for very deep injiuies there is bat one repmatioaj—catting the diroat of him diey hove injured.

Will. Bat I say still, it is imposnble that he «odd mean it.—I have another paper herCj Mr Monntfort. You shall judge, when you have look-ed o& itr—Twas but just now he gave it me, with a hxric of earnestness, and bade me take care of it, . for tfaoBe whom it concerned. I ought not to mention it; but that letter so vexes me—

{Take$oia -a Papa:'\ " Bond of annuity to Captain Wilkiiu, and for ten thousand pounds priacipal money to Miss Juhs Monntfort"

WUk. ITaldsag the Pafer^ and loolaag on ff.] " An-maty to me I And ten thoosutd pounds to Julia I"

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le"

Nt FALBE 8HAH&, OB

Why, tbis i» odd.—An fcimui^tothe niaa he was to kill, and ten thoniand pounds to the girl he would have ruined!

^iW. Lord, my dear sir! kill you! be could iiot mean to kill you, and provide for you afterwards. 1—^And as for Miss JnUaj I knotr smnething as to her, though I was stricUy charged not to tell tt td any one.

Wilk. Something about her! about Juli%!— Give me to know it instantly.

JViU, Nay, it is nothing you ne^ be angiy st AAer the report of your being killed in India, and the death of Miss Julia's aunt, I sent, by Mr

Sed-ley's order, a large sum to the young lady, with a few lines, telling her it was a debt,.whicb the per^ son sending it owed to her father.

Wilk. Pardon my warmth, honest William; but on the subject ofJnlia.

I am so tender.—It was Sedley, then, who. sent that sum to her! She told me she had received it in the manner you say, asd keeps it still us a deposit for the owner.

Will, It was my master's sending^ but he woold kill me, if he thought I bad swd a word of it. ^e often' sends money ^.

Wiik, Kay, he caonot have conquered lii^ tOr

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THE WHITE RTPOCRITB. »7

tare, so.l^rj as not to have filing left. But it.is not parting, witb m<mej, which the habits of ex-travagance have tanght them to nndevvaJne, that «iUtles. such men to be.cidled humane or gene-'

roas. Let them forego one iavourite indulgence for the salce.qf homaoity; let them sacrifice one selfish. passion to the good of others, and then tell. ns of their benerolence and generosity.

ffill. But he is not such a maft as jou thinks— lam sure he is. not.—

Naj, do not look on that fi>olish letter,—You don't, my dear ur> intend to meet him i

WUk. I do most tiertiualy.

WUl. Sure, sir,—sor^ Mr Mountfort/you don't ' mean—

WUk. Not to fight, I -promise you, eren were Sedley indifiereat to me.. He, ^hose blood is his counby's, is not obliged to.shed it at the call of every fool at home, who wishes to tty his valour on him.

But.this Sedley I—why.cau I not forget my fooUeb fondness for .him

—unworthy, unthiok-ing boy !—I will yet save him, if I can { throw off this assumed personage, burst op him in my own. name and

form, and try if Mountfort can ,yet: rouse those virtues, which he once taught him to

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

valae waA rerere!— Say not a word, I charge yDa> of who I ua, DOT

of joBT hanog deliTered me im UlJet, but denre his valet to acqaaist htm, thai I will aot fail the appoiabnent. [£nt Wilkins. ffiU. But comider, my dear nr,—he is gone. I don't ItiK this apjioiDtmeDt;—-

my master is warm, and brave; and though I know be is kind and gentle, yet, since he has been in town, I don't know bow it is, he is a^amed to be thoagbt loo moch so. Sappoae I spoke to Snr Charles former f he is what Aey call a man of bononr^ and hisadncs would go far.—But then I dare not tell any body of this challenge, nor of Captain Wiikiiia- bang. Mr Moontfort—Ha! here oeraes Sir Cfawles.

Emitr Sir Chablbs.

.Sir Ouw. Honest William, I am heartily glad to see you; we meet mnch seldsnicr bow than wc ■sed to do ta the country.

WiU. Why, hoe, an' please yoor haionr, I am' bat, aa one may say, an awkward piece of ftuni* tura lii the uoootcy I was aomethiag; I coald t^yanrboamn' about the plantrag of trees, orlhc laying Amrm of a field, whew yon had the good" oeu to 4enK it.

i«ai*Goog[c

THB WHRB HTFOCRITIf. tm

SUr Char, 1 firand your converaatioa very useful to me, WiUiam; I hare a great regard for yon, and would be happy to hare an opportuiity to oblige yon.

JVm. Would you, indeed t

Sir Ckar, Yon may depend Upon me. Is there any thing yon would ask of me i for yon teem to bare a lequeiL in your face.

mil. PerilapB I hare, Sir Charles.

Sir Char. What is it you would hare me to do tat yoaf Will, Not for me; I ain old, and shan't lire long, and need nothing, thank God I nothing at all— But if you would oblige me. Sir Charles, (doa't lliink it forward in me to ask it,) be a friend to my Sir Char, Your master, William>t Why, am I Bot bis friend t his neat relation, and his nearest friend; the most sincere one he has in the woridf - WiU. I know it, my good Sir Charles, I know it; but tben^

friends ham in<towni I am told— ymir bononr will forgive me—are not like friends in the country. ' ~

Sir Char. IStaHit^.'] And of what sort do yoU take a maa's town: firistMla to he, WiUiau i

i.,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

MS PALSB SnAHB, OR

ffiB. Whjr, I have hesHj sir,—I only speak-as I hare heard,—that a man's friends here, will eM, and drink, and be merryirithhim, call him by. his cbtifitian name, and profess all the regard for-btm in the world; yet will borrow his woney, and never pay It, or win it at play^

wbicb is a shorter way still; will many his mistress, or sedttcc his wife; and if be offers to find firah with any of these tbings, will iiin bim through the) body, or shoot him tbrongh the head. Your'bonour won't lake it ill—I only speak as I have heard.—No of-feniie, I hope.

iStr Char. None in the world, honest William; I like your descripUon much, and wiH own, that there are many town lirieads, whomit suits.

Nay, perhaps Mr Sedley is not without such, some of whom 1 have cauUoned him against.

Wiil. Have you, indeed! It was kindly done of yon.

Sir Char. Yes, there are peopte about town,>and some who call themselves gentlemen, and men of honour, who ibake.apreyof young men, like Sedley, who are open, generous, and easily4iris[ed: others-there are, idle, disupated, .and profligate, with an air of (^hion, whose socie^ is more alln- -

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

ring* xad eqaall; dangerous. But I think, if he relies on me, (and I flatter myself, 1 have some influence with him,) I shall he ahle to guard bim against the practices of the one, and the example of the other.

Will. Heaven grant you may! There is a gentleman,—a very worthy—

that is, I am told, a very worthy genlleman, who is joined with Mr Sedley in the guardianship of Miss Mountfort—should some of those idle young people you talk of sow dissension between him and Mr Sedley!—■

Sir Char, Have yon heard of any difference between themf WilL Yes,—no,, not a .difference, that is, no ' particular difference j bat I was told, that Mr—I would say Captain Wilkins, bad said somewhat about my master, that is, about—about their ward, Miss Julia—that some of those hot-headed young men about town might think was not altogether BO proper, and so—

Sir Char. And so you were afraid they might quarrel on that ground.

They were not to fight, I hope, about Uie management of the young ladyf

vei.. vtll. 2 c

cCooj^lc

fVUI. No, no, not fight; bat if you knew bow good a man this Captain Wilkins is, that is, as I am told—and, for that part, so is my niaSter,~-

£ am sure he is,—I have known him since he viaa at nurse; and many a time I have carried him ia ihese arms—tbe sweetest chitd, the prettiest boy, ■»I love him as my own soul.

Sir Char. We all love bim, William; fear nothing on his aficonnt; rely on my fiiendship for him.

Will. I do, I do; Heaven btess you foi^t. [TVifto Au hand, and kisses it."} I am a poor old man, and can make no return for your kindness; but I woald lay down my life, that I would, for my dear young master and bis friends. Heaven bless and ivoleet you bo^! lEsit William.

Sir Char. How this old man loves his master! The tears were on bis cheek, and he spoke so from the warmth of his heart, that mine, calloos as it is to such foolery, was smitten, and could scarcely play the hypocrite to him. After alt, there is something in this same virtue, that one can't help feeling now and then in spile of-one. Not all the gold I can bribe my r^cals with, ever- pvr-i«ai*Goog[c

TRB WBITB HYPOCRITE. «»

chased from them one such tear aa William's. But the time is too busy for moralising,—Sedley!

Eater Seolby. ' Sed. Sir Charles, I was very anxious to meet with you.

I wish for your counsel ia aa affair of some delicacy.

Sir Char. What! lo your affair with Wilkins i Sed. No, no, I will manage that myself.

Sir Char. With the assistance of old WilliaA.

Sed. Of William! What do you meso t

Sir Char, He left nie just now, and I could Bee had been informed of your quarrel, which the old fellow begged of me to prevent any consequences from. Tis not our way here to communicate saeh adairs to the old men and women of our families.

Sed. How! I communicate it to old men and . women f Sit Char. Nay, perhaps, it might be pmdeDt; but it is not the way witli our young fellows here, and might be laughed at, if they kneW'—

Sed. Laughed at! I will fight him before I sleep.

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

«H FALSE GHAHE, OR

Sir Char. Nay, it will be time enuagli to-moF--TOW,—if it is not known and prevented by a peace-warrant before.

Sed. Leave it to me^ I say; and if yoa find I want spirit^ brand me for a coward and a rascal— though perhaps I am a rascal, as it is, and only justify it by being a bully. Bat no matter, let^s talk no more oa't-

—I have uiother challenge, that puzdes me more.

Sir Char, Another challenge I from whom ?

$ed. From a lady.

Sir Char, From a lady ■ and does that puzzle you i What a fortunate fellow yoa are, Ned!

Sed. I own I want courage for't.—^But look not so contemptuously till you bear the circumstances

Sir Char. She is old and ugly i

Sed, Neither, neither; but she is married.

Sir Char. So much ihe better; half the puzzle is removed already.

Sed. It would be unfair to give a hint to find her by. But she is the wife of a gentleman—in the country—from whom I have received numberless &Yours.

i«ai*Goog[c

Sir Char. And the lady, like a dutiful wife^ ;vou1d bestow a few more on yuu.

Sed, I have been infinitely obliged to her hns-band.

Sir Char. Then yon must certainly oblige his wife.

Sed. I know, Dormer, my scruples will appear ridiculous to a gay man like you. I was weak enough, or gallant enough, to be ashamed of ihem, in aa interview with the lady; and though I felt them so strongly at the time, that I often wished myself (don't laugh at me,) a thousand miles off; yet, like a poppy as I was, I spoke some of that nonsense, which a man thinks himself obliged to say to a woman who seems to expect it. On the strength of this encouragement—

Sir Char. Encouragement! Ha! ha! Nay, yon must forgive me, my dear Sedley, for laughing; the phrase is so Dovelfrom a gentleman to a lady! —But I am serious again, and will hear your case stated with the gravity of a bencher. On the faith of this encouragement, as you call it, the lady has sent yon, I suppose, a civil message by

,:i:,Cc)Ot^[e

ber walUng-mud; or challei^ed yon to a party at piquet, at the honae of some conveiiieat friend. '

Sed, She has begged me to meet hei this eren-ing at snch a friend's, to renew oar conversation, which (voy fortunately^ as I theugbt,) the intn^■ won of a third person ^ternipted.

Sir Ciar. What a^iacky dog, I say agtun,' yoa are,NedI Sfd. Bi^t I shan't go, S\t Chariles.

Sir Char. Not go! send me, then, in ymir stead.

Sed. That might not do so well. But are you senous f Should I feel nothing for the injsry to a . man, who has been my benefactor and my ftiend ? %onld I make him this return for all his kindness i This my gratitude for bis honpitatity wid bis cmw fidence P

Sir Char. Enjiiit (Tmnottr, Ncd> gratitiide is ont of the question.

Sed. Is your fashionable gallantly so seiffi^, w remoiseless i

Sir Char. Never talk of remorse before hand; you will have time eoough to repent ^^rwsrds.

Sed. As to the lady perhap»-~biit have yon no compassion for the innocent husband f

D.5i«ai*Go<>J^le

1

THE WHITE BTPOCRITE. «n

Sir C^har. All the compassion in the iroild^—I am a husband myself.

Bat it b ten to one he it an iadiiferQDt fellow, and don't care a faithiDg for bis wife.

Sed. That is very poBsible.

Sir Char. Or perhaps takes his own amusement some other way.

Sed. Not unlikely.

Sir Char. Then he has do title to complain; besides, if the lady and you are discreet enough to keep your own secret, he will not be a halfpeonj the worse.

Sed. You really think so ?

Sir Char. Most sincerely. I know no familiet 3«i ea<y> so comfortable, so happy, as those in which such arrangements take place.

Sed, bideed! You advise me to obey the assignation then i Sir Char. If you would not have me think yon a ninny. Bat I have an appointment too, [Look' ing at his JVatch."} which I most prepare for. Bon , voyage, Ned. And if you have any scruples re-maioiag to-morrow, come to me, and receive absolution. [Exit Sir Chables.

,:i:,Cc)Ot^le

Std. Wen I to take him &t bis word now! but I am not yet lo macb a villain as he thinks me. I will meet Lady Donner, bat not in the way Sir Charles would advise. As to Wilkins^ I begin to wish I could be as easily off in that quarter. Bat I am resolved to risk no life in the encoanter but my own. What is thb fashion, that I should obey . it at such expence i and whence is that superiori-ty, that entitles it to laugh at me i Methinka, If the privilege of ridicule were in proportion to this scale of morals, the lan^ should be loudest from the bar of tbe Old Bailey. But we are dazzled by rank, and deceived by words; and many are proud of gallantry and honour, who woi^ startle at the

■ounds of robbei7 and murder. [-£nft

i«ai*Go<>ylf

THB WHITE HYPOCaiTE.

ACT V.

SCENE—Tiie House of Diana Danbt.

Ladi/ DosMSB, (in a different Drets/rom ahat the teas/ormerly,) and Lucbbtia^ a MaidofDw-sy'h.

La^ Dor. So Miss Danby did not receive my card?

Luc, Ko, my lady, I did not know where to fiend it, and kept it in expectation of her return home.

La^ Dor. That was a little unlucky; but since I have had the good fortune to find you, Mrs Lucy, it does not much signify. It was only to tell her, I should call here according to her re* quest; and that the gentleman, her friend, would probably meet me to concert the business we

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talked of jeaterday. On which stxount, it waa as well she should not be at home to any body else.

Luc. Your ladyship might certainly command here, whether my mistresa was acquainted with your intentions or not; but she told me of your being to be here this evening.

La^ Dor. Of my being to be here!

Jmc, Yes; ^e said, that a lady, meaning your ladyship no doubt, was to sup here this evening, and a gentleman, a near reUtimt of hers. I have prepared matters accordingly.

Lady Dor. That is somewhat odd; for the note I told you of was the first intimation of my visit— if indeed she has not happened to meet Mr-^-[A singh knock U heard at the Door.^ Hark! some one knocks below.

Luc. I will see who it is; bat ibey will let nobody in except your ladyship's relation.

lExit LuoT.

I^(^ Dor, Do I look as I ought? This is the simple modest dress he admired so much in Julia Mountfort—with that blushing sentiment in my face, which he said a woman^

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THE WHITE HYPOCRITE.

Re-mter Lvct, hastily.

Luc. Madam, madam! did your ladyship know who it was you were to meet here i

La^ Dor. A relatitm^ I told yOu, child.

Luc, But was it so very very near a relation i—~ Your husband. Sir Charles, is below.

Lady Dor. Sir Charles! good heavens!—But he won't come up hither 7

Luc. He is jost coming up, ray lady.—I told him Miss Danby wasn't at home; but he said, he knew she would be at home by and by.—He ia only giving his raan some orders in the lobby.

Ijidy Dor, But you must get him away, my dear Lucy.—I will step into this inner room.— He does not know any thing of tite business your mistress and I were to meet upon—and so you know—you wiU get him away as fast as you can. —Let me in here.

[Going to the Door of the i/mer Room.

Luc. la. ! my lady! that room—Sir Charles has a btu'eau with some papers in that room.

Lady Dor. Sir Charles a bureau in that room I Imc. Yes, my lady, and so he has a key of it himself, and he will certainly go ia there.

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at FALSE SHAHH, OR

Xtufy Dor. What shall I do!—I might perbapl meet him boldly; hut then my appointment—and Sedley too—[^wfe.] Is there no other place i

Jjuc. Bat if you go out upon the stairs, your ladyship will meet him Aill in the Face.—Slay—> There is a mask within.—We sometimes see masks. \_Bnnff out a Maik.} Here—if your ladyship will put on thisj and say nothing—

LaAf Dor. Give it me. Lucy, remember I am a guinea in your debt for the use of this mask. I have a little female curiosity to know what brings Sir Charles here. So, Lucy, if he should ask, tell him, the !ady is some friend of Miss Danby's, you don't know who—but—

Enter Sir Charles Dosuer. Lucbetia tehu-pen to him as he entert.

Lady Dobubs's Fact u turned away.

Sir Char. [To Lccbetia.] A lady! Yes, yes, I knew there was a lady. You need not have been so unwilliug to admit mo —a small par^ to au[^^I was one of them. I'll entertain her till your mistress's arrival.

[EtiVLucretia. Hebows at a distance, then advances a step or two into th^

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Room.'] —How! masked.' the devil! If Danby has succeeded so far in her prtparation, as she called it—it almost takes away my appetite for the adrentore. [Lady Dormeb walks to the other end of the Room.'] It is certainly she/ notwithstand' ing—Her dress, her air, only a little agitated from the aituatbn. [Jside.] —Madam ! Miss Mount-fort !

[Lad}/ DoBUER st<^.] There is something whimsical, I should rather say amusing, or, perhaps still more properly, compassionate in that mask, when you know what mischief your face does in its natural state. [Lady Dormer aalkt about again in coi^vnim.] I see your agitatiou. Miss Mouotfort, at this interview. My fteliags Miss Danby may perhaps have in some degree communicated, though she could not do justice either to their warmth or their purity! Indeed my own language can but very imperfectly express them. [Lady Dobher stops again.} —Something very odd in thisj but I will speak on, while she allows me. [Amie.] —I have wished, though with that trembling distrust, which tbe highest, the most ardent esteem always creates, for an opportunity of explaining my sentiments with regard to your situation and my owu. Yours has been uo-i«ai*Goog[c

fbrtiinate perhaps, at least the world will call it ■o; the world, who does not know those qualities^ which, in every heart deserring of your frieDd-ship, (For Bome, I am afraid^ there are, who have much abused it,) will find a friend ; but my sitn^ tion, MisB Monntfort, is truly dUtreasing! Formed for the tenderest sympathies of friendship and of lore, it has been my misfortune to be joined to one who is perfectly nnsusceptible of either; who, in the giddiness of fashion, and the tumult of dis-gipatioa, has lost aU relish for that domestic eojoy^ ment, which, had I been blest with one like yon-Nay, do not start at the declaration,—you must have seen, though I wbs careful to

hide my attachment, you must have seen how much it possessed my heart. There are sonb, which, by an instinctive sort of impulse, invohiatarily attract one another. At this moment, (hough you cruelly hide your face from me, yet thus to be near you, to touch this hand—

nay, do not draw it away so hushly,—is such an indescribable pleasure; that if there exists Uiat magnetic tulluence, which some visionaries pretend— {A nolent knocking below,'] Ha!—^Don't be alarmed. Miss Monntfort; don't be uneasy.

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Wilk. [Below.'] Bdt I know she is here, sad nothing shall preveat my seeing her.

SirCkar. Ha! ItbinkI have heard that voice,— but let it oot diBcompose you, Miss Mountfort.— Yet, as the meeting might be too much for your spirits, be so kind to step in here— [Taka a Key from his Pocket, and opeiu the Door of the Inner iloom.]—till I get rid of this iotrusion. [Hands jMdg DoKHKB m.}—Depend on my protection and support,—my unalterable, my inviolable attachment.

[Locks the DooT."] —^This girl is a little nnintelligible; but, though she seemed displeased, she listened to the nonsense I talked, and that is something.—Now for this impertinent intruder. [Goo towards the Door, and meets WilkiNS tnttrmg. ,

Wilk. Sir! Sir Charles Dormer!

iSirCAor. Captain Wilkins!—Have you any commands for me, Isirf Wiik. For you. Sir f Not for you. Sir Charles.— Where is Sedley i Where U Miss Mountfort i

Sir Char. Sedley, and Miss Mountfort!—I knov HQthing of Sedley; and as for Miss Mountfort,— ' I should ask that question of you, who are one of her guardians, and interested in the care of her.

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WHk. I am indeed. Sit Charles; and in virtue of that interest, I come here in quest of her.

Sir Char. Here ia c|uest of her! I should not think this the most likely plave to find her. I aoppose she will be found ia my houae, if you will take the trouble to go thither.

Wilk, Come, come. Sir Charles, this is a bo^* ness in which I will not be trifled with. I know she is not at your house; I know she is liere, and Mr Sedley with her. Your behaviour may be fidelity to him; but, in such a cause as thb, it is dishonour to you.

Sir Char. Sir, I declare to you, upon my honour, I know nothing of Mr Sedley.

Wilk. You speak this with such an air of sincerity. Sir Charles, that I, who am not accustomed to deceit, am iaclined to believe you. But I know of Mr Sedley, whether you do or not. I know she was seen with him in a hackney-coach not a quarter of an hour ago, and that that coach was ordered to drive hither.

Sir Char. Indeed!—Is it possible that devil Danby could be playing false with me i [^it&.]— Are you sure of that, Captain Wilkins i

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iVilk, So sure of it, that I am determined not to leave this bouse till I find her.

Sir Char. Together, do you say ? Were they seea together i —I don't know what to make of this. iJjiiie.}

Wiik. I say again. Sir Charles, they were. Sed-ley may have deceived you, as, [ fear, he has deceived her.

Sir Char. If she expected Sedley, her mask may be easily accounted for. Slie certainly seemed not to expect me. [jin'de.]

Wilk. You seem surprised. Sir Charles; and, I own, I do not wonder at it.

Sir Char. Surprised, sir!—I have a great mind to discover her, and get to the bottom of th's.

IJside.-] WUk. But I trifle here. [Goei to the Door.}— This door is locked; but I come prepared. I shall find a way to open it presently.

Sir Char. Captain Wilkins, I sympathise with your concern for Miss Mountfort, and believe I can assist you in your search for her. There is a lady in that room; and, from what you tell me, I - do suspect her to be Miss Mountfort I should not have ventured to suppose it else.

VOL. VIII, 2 D

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Wilk. In that room!

Sir Char. Yes. With that sort of gallantly which every man like me must shew to a lad;, I vill own to you. Captain Wilkins, I meant to fa-Tour her concealment there without knowing who she was; hot feeling, as I do, for this young lady, whom Mr Sedley,—but I will accuse nobody^—I should abuse that coafideoce I hope I have hitherto deserved from her friends, not to assist in no-deceiving her.

—'"niere, [Opens the Door.'\ you will find your ward within.

JVilk. My veard, Sir Charles!—Yes:—Bot the

daughter of Mountfort, I am ashamed to think,—

ILaA/ DoBHEK coma out, 9tSi maiked.

How, masked! Julia Monntfort!—-Speak to her.

Sir Charles; I cannot.

Sir Char. I am little less astonished than yon. Captain Wilkins, that MrSediey should have contrived this strange suspicious sort of meeting; or that Miss Monntfort shonld have consented to it. [She attemptt to paa them, and go oat.

Wilk. Nay, yon must not pass. It is now the Teiy crisis of your fate, and you must hear to be toW—

Sir Char. Captain Wilkms, let me take the li-

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berty of InlercediDg foi Miss Monntfort. There must be Bomething here nbicb caD in a great mea-sare justify her. One, like this lady, guileless herself, and unsuspicious of deceit in others, Sedley'i appearance of virtue and honour might eanl; mislead. She nil!

henceforward know her friends better, and learn to value their real regard. She will be taught a salutary BuspicioQ of those, whose pretence of it might be fatal.

WUk, And all this of Julia Mountfort! of h«i to whom, hot a little unc«, T gave such a remembrancer of her father!—b all this really so?

or am I come in some carnival time, when minds are in mask as well as faces ?—Off with that cover from yonr'sjtfaat I may look on the daughter of— [PvUaa^Ijady Dobheb's Moik

WiBc. and Sir Char. I^dy Dormer I

Lady Dor. Sir Charles, I—I knew this would surprise you, as, I confess, yonr behaviour has a good deal surprised me,—Captain Wilkins, I qan easily account for this situation to yon, Wilk. Oh, madam, I can easily accoant for it to mysdf.

Sir Char. But yon will be pleased, madato, to accoant for it to me.

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no FALSE SHAHE, OR

- JjoJ^Dor. I don't see the leastoccasion for that. Sir Charles.

iStr Char. No, madam I — Your Iwing in this

Jjadjf Dor. To meet you. Sir Charles. The magnetic influence you talked of a little ago, £ suppose, drew us here together.

Sir Char. You had better put on your mask again. Lady Dormer; it will save at least the ef-fronteiy of your behaviour.

La^ Dor, And it will restore the tenderness of yonr's; " th&t imtincHve tenderness, which being near me" you know.—But come, Sir Charles, seriously,'don't be out of humour about the business.

Tilings are a little bromlH at present; but to-morrow, when there is temper and time for it, they will be easily cleared, I make no doubt on't. Till which time. Sir Charles, I must leave you to make the best of diem.—Captain Wilkins, your most obedient. iExit Latbf Dobmeb.

•Sir Char. They are sufficiently clear to me already.

Wilk. But to me. Sir Charles, they are not.— Where is Miss Mountfort f

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Sir Char. Not in this housej Sir, it would appear.

mik. AndSedlejf

Sir Char, Somewhere with her, you say. But I begin to suspect, he disappointed another lady.— But here he comes to answer for himself.

Enter Sedley.

Sed. Sir Charles! I did not expect to meet you here.

fVilk. Nor me neither, I suppose, Sir?

■Sir Char. Nor any man, I suppose. Sir?

Sed. You, Sir Charles, know me too well to douht my satisfying you on any point.

Ifilk. Satisfy me on the score of Miss Mount-fort.

Sed. MisB Mountfort, Captain Wilkins—Sir,— ^Looking at Sir Chables.] I have heard. Sir, you have talked rather warmly on that sul^ect alrea-

d,..

WUk. Sir, it is a subject I am entitled to talk warmly on.—^Where is the young lady now. Sir ?—

Sed. You will find, I believe. Captain Wilkins— Bat a gentleman, and a man of honour, is not at

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Kbertjr to ansffer to interrogatories pat with anch an emphasis.

fViik, My empbaus shall not be abated, yoimg man.

Sed. Young man I

{Putting kit Hand tvmardt hit Sword.

Enter WiULjAU. WiL My dear sir, my dear master, yon knov not who it is yoa speak to.—Yon—I can't bold longer; indeed, I can't; Mr Monntfbrt!—Yes, sir, he is Mr Mountfort, the friend of your lather, the proteotor of your childhood, the best and worthiest, Won't you forgive him, sir ?

Sir Char. How! Monntfortl

Momit. Yes> lost And unworthy boy! I am that Mountfort, who loved yon as a son ; vho hoped to find you worthy of being called bo. —Of that no more;—it is past.—But answer to me for Jo-liA} I have now a father's title to question you about her.

fViL She is safe and happy; and ow^ that safety And happinew to Mr Bedley.—'Alas, sir, he is

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Qol what: he has seenied ; and yoa may judge by bis silence what he thinks of having seemed so.

Sed. Monntfort, I am indeed ashamed to look upon you; ashamed to ask your forgiveness. I have yet that honest hluah remaining, for the part which my false shame for the sneer of the world imposed on me.

Yet I was bat a sorry player, and the hypocrisy of fashion sat ill upon me.

Mount. Where is my child ?

Wil. We met her io s hackney-coach, with Mri Danby, terrified at finding that she was not to meet with you, sir; in the belief of which she had been inveigled from Sir Charles'?. The proposal that vile woman made to you, she confessed was not from Scdiey, whose name she had the impu* dence to use; bat from another gentleman.

My miuter rescued Miss Julia from tlie base hands she had got into, and placed her in safety at Lord Lapwing's.—I go to tell them—Shall I not [Zh Mount.] tell them, that every thing is forgotten ( that yon ore friends and happy i [Exit Wj j.,

Mount, That will depend, Mr Sedley,

Sid. Give me your hand; if I oxa andeserving of yoor friendship, yet give it to my joy at seeing yoa; at finding you restored to Ufe, and to your

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m ' FALSE SHAHB, OR

country.—Of that feeling, at least, I can boast the siacerity.

So- Char, You will not doubt my satisfsctiou in Aat event, Mr Mountforlf

Mount. Since I came here. Sir Charles, I have had occasion for so many doubts,

Sir Char. Things have appeared, to be sure, a little odd.—If ike time were a less busy one, I should wish to know from Mr Sedley, if he did not, come here to meet Lady Dormer f

Sed. If I came here to meet a lady, it was by advice of Sir Charles Dormer: If I came here with different intentions from what he wonld have approved of, it was from feelings (old-fashioned feelings he would call them) of my own.—But, in, toy turn, I should wish, at some less busy time, to linow from you. Sir Charles, if you did not come

here to meet

Sir Char. Sir, I believe things may stand as they are, without any questions either on one side or t'other, except a few which I shall take the liberty of discussing with Lady Dormer.

Sed. To her, then, sir, I shall leave-the discussion. I am persuaded she will easily vindicate her

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condact; her atteatioa to the ease> the comfort, the happiaess of Sir Charles Dormei's family!

Sir Char. I am not at present, Mr Sedley, much disposed for merriment; and, therefore, 1 shall leave you to the exercise of your wit, and the enjoyment of your virtues! [Exit Sir Chas, Sed. I am ashamed to think that I should bare forfeited that enjoyment for an ambition so silly as the triumph of fashion, or a fear so mean as that of the ridicule of its votaries. Oh, Mount-fort!

suffer me to call you again my friend, my guide, my father!—You look still doubtfully upon me; but I will find such a surety—Ziook, where she comes I

Enter Jaiik, XordLAPWiNG,a»f William. Mount. My child! my Julia!

[Embracing her. Jul. My father! Have I then a father f—My head is dizzy to think it.—How could yon, Sir^ hide him so long from me i Mount. Accident first prompted the dbguise, and circumstances, which 1 wished to develope, afterwards induced me to continue it It served to diew me nothing of my Julia to blame^ except ^

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«• FAUE SHAHE, DIt

little teoderoefs (perbapB a sort of hereditary feel* iDg) for one who did Dot altogether deserve it.

Jtd. Did Sedley not deserve it i You told me so already.—I bad forgot; I am afraid I was willisg to forget it.

Sed: To your father, I awo, I acted most an-worthily. In that perverse bypocnsy hy which I wished to conceal my best feelings, I outraged those that were doe to him. To Julia I could not be that hypocrite; she knows I conid not.

Jul, She knows all the delicacy, the kindness of your conduct towards her.—When my father ia more convinced of it

Mount. Alas! you know not bow mach he wishes to be convinced of ib^—Sedleyl To find one of my children lost!

Sed. Receive him back, sever to stray again.'— This hand ^all guide, (shall it not, my Julia i) and reword my virtue.

3fotf«^ Take it, and be worthy of it.

WiL And play no more,—under favonr, sir,-:-ihe character yon chose of late. Trust me, yon were not made for it

Lord Xap. So it was only in masqaetade, then, that you ventored to contradict msi I thought

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yoa coold Dot be serious. But this new sort of hypocrisy will add a chapter to my system; " The White Hypocrite;"—Yes, that will do.

Apposite and pretty, and not too intelligible. The system of a man of genius should never be too intelligible.

Mount. Bot tell your white hypocrites, my lord, that the colour of this hypocrisy is apt to grow darker. He who is first such a hypocrite from vanity, or from fear, will be in il&ng« of beoH ming, in truth, the character he personates. A fool in the attempt, he will be a villain in its ao* complishment; and will suffer equally in both. Tell them, my lord, liiat to be really good is * much shorter way to be happy;—to procure the only reputation an honest man can value; the only happiness a reasonable one can enjoy.

lExttmt.

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EPILOGUE,

THE CHARACTER OF LADY PORMEK.

Well, aAcr all that poeti sajr or lin^ Jiypocrim/'s a very useful thtDg; And howsoever plain blunt folks may take it> The blackest is much whiter than they make it.

Since first the arts uf polished life began To humanize that strange wild beast, called Mau, Hypocrisy was ready in their train To muzzle passions which she could not chain. Hypocrisy, the handmaid of the Graces, If she can't mend onr hearts, caa make our iacesj And seemings witii realities at strife, Fonn the While Hj^wcrita of modem life.

True to their names, in savage limes of yore Frieod^ip and hate their genuine aspect wore; In each extreme, without the forms of art. They me^ and grappled to each othei*s heart

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J^erce boisterous friendship, in the field or ball.

Then fought, or feasted, at his brother's c^;,

lo joy or danger linked, they rose, or sunk.

Dead in the field, or in the hall—dead dniiilc.

White mortal hatred sharpened every snord,

Aod called his mail-clad followers rouad their lord; Their lord's resentment was so deadly set,

Twould ravish, rob, or murdei all it met.

Our modem foes are so extremely civil.

And with such angel-faces play the devil,

TTiat if one's ruined by a man's ill-will,

^is quite impossible to take it ill!—

Should he go desperate lengths, and cut your tbroEtf)

'Tis a gilt card—" the honour"—and what not.

But in the common gentlemanly way.

He'll only ruiu you by skill at play:

With bonds and judgments sound the law's alarms.

And call—a bailiff's followers to anns.

Pillage—by writ—your house, or seize your rent.

And ravish spouses—only by consent

Without hypocrisy to bring her through. What could our sex, poor helpless woman, do f Maid, wife, or widow, woman still appears The thing she is not to your eyes and ears;. Close by the weeping rill, or murmuring grove. The bashful virgin must conceal her Iopbi And did

not welt-bred hatrtd keep inc(^, Ilwvmany pain would live like cat and d<

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But with this White Hypocriiy, a wift Widi a bnile-lord may lead a toviag life. May plague hia heart out with a smile of ease. And make him hang himRelf with—" if you please;" Or should he chance, by wme sncb luckleas fate. To leave the world and hii sad widowed mate. How iweet beneath a solemn crape's disguise. To Bit and weep

—or laugh—out one's poor eyes! For, decency apart, it pleases more To shut oue's joy ap in a snug boudoir. There, like a favoured lover, hide it clos^ While Betty sobs without, and tells of all our woes '.

As for us children of the mimic scene. This is ouF calling, and has ever been. Whether we love, or hate, or salle, or grten^ Poison, or stab, 'tis all but maJx believe; One pleasdre only we have left sincere,

— It is to be approvedj applauded here.

XDIMBUaOB ;

Flintid by Jamei BiUui^g & Cc>.

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You finished The works of Henry Mackenzie, esq Volume 8

Henry Mackenzie

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