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In Lord Morelove we have the first lover in English comedy, since licentiousness possessed it, who is at once a gentleman and an honest man. In Lady Easy we have what was hitherto unknown or laughed at a virtuous married woman."
Il y a cent ans que je ne t'ai veu. My lord, I am your lordship's most obedient humble servant." So Foppington takes his place in the comedy, and begins to play his brainless but important part. He, the disconsolate Morelove, and the brilliant Lady Betty all meet at dinner with Sir Charles and Lady Easy.
How delightfully, for instance, would some of the badinage between Morelove and the spirited Lady Betty have been treated in the earlier days of the Daly Company, with John Drew and Miss Rehan as the lovers. We can picture the two, as they would have given the following lines, the one gentlemanly and effective, the other imperious, liquid-voiced, and radiant of humour: *
In the hands of Powell, Cibber, and Oldfield this scene must have had all the sparkle of champagne; but let us hope, speaking of wine, that the prince of paragons, Morelove, was perfectly sober. "I own," writes Sir John, "the first night this thing was acted, some indecencies had like to have happened; but it was not my fault.
The yellow leaves are white and fresh, the words stand out clear and distinct, and it takes but a slight flight of fancy to hear the dingy auditorium of Drury Lane echoing and re-echoing with laughter. For 'twas at Drury Lane that the comedy first saw the light, in December 1704, and this was the cast: LORD MORELOVE .... Mr. Powell. LORD FOPPINGTON .... Mr. Cibber. SIR CHARLES EASY .... Mr. Wilks.
We take up the book after years of neglect, and the odour, which is not that of sanctity, is still perceptible a potent reminder of the past. And Lady Betty Modish? What becomes of Betty in the comedy, the reader may ask. She goes on her triumphant way, the same cruel enchantress, until the last act, when she is quite ready to fall into the arms of Lord Morelove.
Morelove, who must have been admirably played by the fiery, impetuous Powell, is neither a libertine, nor, on the other hand, a prig; he is simply a gentlemanly and essentially human fellow who is consumed with an honest passion for Lady Betty Modish. Nay, he would be glad to marry the fine creature, but she has quarrelled with him and he is now telling Sir Charles all about it: *
"MORELOVE. Do you know, madame, I have just found out, that upon your account I have made myself one of the most ridiculous puppies upon the face of the earth I have upon my faith! Nay, and so extravagantly such ha! ha! ha! that it's at last become a jest even to myself; and I can't help laughing at it for the soul of me; ha! ha! ha!
A very prince of coxcombs, with his soft smile and conscious air of superiority a mere bag of vanity, whose emptiness is partly hidden by gorgeous raiment, gold embroidery, rings, snuff-box, muff and what-not. With what genteel condescension does he greet Sir Charles; how gracefully nonchalant is he to my Lord Morelove. "My dear agreeable! Que je t'embrasse! Pardi!
Lady Betty telling Morelove to go about his business, and that quickly, but doing so with a stately elegance worthy of the great Mrs. Barry; the suitor bowing low, with his white hand pressed against that "odious proud heart" which is gently breaking at the thought of departing. What a nice painting it would make for a Watteau fan.
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