MR. H. Melesinda, you behold before you a wretch who would have betrayed your confidence, but it was love that prompted him; who would have tricked you by an unworthy concealment into a participation of that disgrace which a superficial world has agreed to attach to a name—but with it you would have shared a fortune not contemptible, and a heart—but ’tis over now. That name he is content to bear alone—to go where the persecuted syllables shall be no more heard, or excite no meaning —some spot where his native tongue has never penetrated, nor any of his countrymen have landed, to plant their unfeeling satire, their brutal wit, and national ill manners—where no Englishman—(Here Melesinda, who has been pouting during this speech, fetches a deep sigh.) Some yet undiscovered Otaheite, where witless, unapprehensive savages shall innocently pronounce the ill-fated sounds, and think them not inharmonious.
Who knows but among the female natives might be found—
Sir! (raising her head).
One who would be more kind than—some Oberea—Queen Oberea.
Or what if I were to seek for proofs of reciprocal esteem among
unprejudiced African maids, in Monomotopa.
Mr. Belvil. [Exit.]
In Monornotopa (musing.)
BELVIL Heyday, Jack! what means this mortified face? nothing has happened, I hope, between this lady and you? I beg pardon, Madam, but understanding my friend was with you, I took the liberty of seeking him here. Some little difference possibly which a third person can adjust—not a word—will you, Madam, as this gentleman’s friend, suffer me to be the arbitrator—strange—hark’e, Jack, nothing has come out, has there? you understand me. Oh I guess how it is—somebody has got at your secret, you hav’n’t blabbed it yourself, have you? ha! ha! ha! I could find in my heart—Jack, what would you give me if I should relieve you—
No power of man can relieve me (sighs) but it must lie at the root,
gnawing at the root—here it will lie.
No power of man? not a common man, I grant you; for instance, a
subject—it’s out of the power of any subject.
Gnawing at the root—there it will lie.
Such a thing has been known as a name to be changed; but not by a
subject—(shews a Gazette).
MR. H. Gnawing at the root (suddenly snatches the paper out of Belvil’s hand); ha! pish! nonsense! give it me—what! (reads) promotions, bankrupts—a great many bankrupts this week—there it will lie (lays it down, takes it up again, and reads) “The King has been graciously pleased”—gnawing at the root—“graciously pleased to grant unto John Hogsflesh”—the devil—“Hogsflesh,