re, sirrah, who the devil are you?

CAPT. A. 'Faith, sir, I am not quite clear myself; but I'll endeavor to
recollect.

SIR A. Are you my son, or not?--answer for your mother, you dog, if you
won't for me.

CAPT. A. Ye powers of impudence, befriend me!--[_Aside._]--Sir Anthony,
most assuredly I am your wife's son; Mrs. Malaprop, I am your most
respectful admirer, and shall be proud to add affectionate nephew. I
need not tell my Lydia that she sees her faithful Beverley, who, knowing
the singular generosity of her temper, assumed that name, and a station,
which has proved a test of the most disinterested love, which he now
hopes to enjoy, in a more elevated character.

LYD. So!--there will be no elopement after all!

SIR A. Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very impudent fellow! To do you
justice, I think I never saw a piece of more consummate assurance! Well,
I am glad you are not the dull insensible varlet you pretend to be,
however! I'm glad you have made a fool of your father, you dog--I am.
So, this was your penitence, your duty, and obedience! Ah! you
dissembling villain! Come, we must leave them together, Mrs. Malaprop;
they long to fly into each other's arms. I warrant! Come, Mrs. Malaprop,
we'll not disturb their tenderness; theirs is the time of life for
happiness! [_Sings_.] _Youth's the season made for joy_--hey! odds life!
I'm in such spirits! Permit me, ma'am.

[_Gives his hand to_ MRS. MALAPROP. _Exit singing, and handing her off.
Exit_ CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE _with_ LYDIA _in the opposite direction._

BEAU BRUMMELL

BLANCHARD JERROLD

ACT I, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Beau Brummell, a fastidious aristocrat with luxurious
tastes and a depleted fortune; Isidore, his valet; Mr. Fotherby,
his aspiring young protege.

SCENE: A handsome apartment in Brummell's house, Calais, France.
Isidore discovered, in chair, looking over his master's toilette
table.

ISIDORE. Twenty shirts a week, twenty-four pocket-handkerchiefs, to say
nothing of thirty cravats and twelve waistcoats--indeed, for people that
cannot pay their servants! Well, he owes me just six thousand three
hundred and thirty-seven francs, ten sous. [_Picks up paper._] Ah, I
see, I'm in the list. It costs something to have the honor of serving
Mr. Brummell--to be chamberlain to His Majesty, the King of Calais! But
he is a wonderful man! People almost thank him for condescending to be
in their debt; still, much as