A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic — John Shaqi
A Trip to Scarborough; and, The CriticSheridan, Richard Brinsley
General
A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley
Comedy plays; English drama -- 18th century
LOVELESS.
So, thus far all’s well: I have got into her dressing-room, and it
being dusk, I think nobody has perceived me steal into the house. I
heard Berinthia tell my wife she had some particular letters to write
this evening, before she went to Sir Tunbelly’s, and here are the
implements of correspondence.—How shall I muster up assurance to show
myself, when she comes? I think she has given me encouragement; and, to
do my impudence justice, I have made the most of it.—I hear a door
open, and some one coming. If it should be my wife, what the devil
should I say? I believe she mistrusts me, and, by my life, I don’t
deserve her tenderness. However, I am determined to reform, though not
yet. Ha! Berinthia!—So, I’ll step in here, till I see what sort of
humour she is in. [_Goes into the closet_.]
_Enter_ BERINTHIA.
BERINTHIA.
Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should sit and hear him
compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all patience with them both!
I would not for something have Loveless know what temper of mind they
have piqued me into; yet I can’t bear to leave them together. No, I’ll
put my papers away, and return, to disappoint them.—[_Goes to the
closet_.]—O Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost!
_Re-enter_ LOVELESS.
LOVELESS.
Peace, my angel; it’s no ghost, but one worth a hundred spirits.
BERINTHIA.
How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to—run in again; here’s
somebody coming. [LOVELESS _goes into the closet_.]
_Enter_ MAID.
MAID.
O Lord, ma’am, what’s the matter?
BERINTHIA.
O Heavens! I’m almost frightened out of my wits! I thought verily I had
seen a ghost, and ’twas nothing but a black hood pinned against the
wall. You may go again; I am the fearfullest fool! [Exit MAID.]
_Re-enter_ LOVELESS.
LOVELESS.
Is the coast clear?
BERINTHIA.
The coast clear! Upon my word, I wonder at your assurance.
LOVELESS.
Why, then, you wonder before I have given you a proof of it. But
where’s my wife?
BERINTHIA.
At cards.
LOVELESS.
With whom?
BERINTHIA.
With Townly.
LOVELESS.
Then we are safe enough.
BERINTHIA.
You are so! Some husbands would be of another mind, were he at cards
with their wives.
LOVELESS.
And they’d be in the right on’t, too; but I dare trust mine.
BERINTHIA.
Indeed! and she, I doubt not, has the same confidence in you. Yet, do
you think she’d be content to come and find you here?
LOVELESS.
Egad, as you say, that’s true!—Then for fear she should come, hadn’t we
better go into the next room, out of her way?
BERINTHIA.
What, in the dark?
LOVELESS.
Ay, or with a light, which you please.
BERINTHIA.
You are certainly very impudent.
LOVELESS.
Nay, then—let me conduct you, my angel!
BERINTHIA.
Hold, hold! you are mistaken in your angel, I assure you.
LOVELESS.
I hope not; for by this hand I swear—
BERINTHIA.
Come, come, let go my hand, or I shall hate you!—I’ll cry out, as I
live!
LOVELESS.
Impossible! you cannot be so cruel.
BERINTHIA.
Ha! here’s some one coming. Begone instantly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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