END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Sir PERTINAX and EGERTON.
Sir Per. [In warm resentment.] Zoons! sir, I wull not hear a word about it:—I insist upon it you are wrong:—you shou'd have paid your court till my lord, and not have scrupled swallowing a bumper or twa, or twenty, till oblige him.
Eger. Sir, I did drink his toast in a bumper.
Sir Per. Yes—you did;—but how? how?—just as a bairn takes physic— with aversions and wry faces, which my lord observed: then, to mend the matter, the moment that he and the colonel got intill a drunken dispute about religion, you slily slunged away.
Eger. I thought, sir, it was time to go, when my lord insisted upon half pint bumpers.
Sir Per. Sir, that was not levelled at you, but at the colonel, in order to try his bottom; but they aw agreed that you and I should drink out of smaw glasses.
Eger. But, sir, I beg pardon:—I did not choose to drink any more.
Sir Per. But zoons! sir, I tell you there was a necessity for your drinking more.
Eger. A necessity! in what respect, pray, sir?
Sir Per. Why, sir, I have a certain point to carry, independent of the lawyers, with my lord, in this agreement of your marriage—about which I am afraid we shall have a warm squabble—and therefore I wanted your assistance in it.
Eger. But how, sir, could my drinking contribute to assist you in your squabble?
Sir Per. Yes, sir, it would have contributed—and greatly have contributed to assist me.
Eger. How so, sir?
Sir Per. Nay, sir, it might have prevented the squabble entirely; for as my lord is proud of you for a son-in-law, and is fond of your little French songs, your stories, and your bon-mots, when you are in the humour,—and guin you had but staid—and been a little jolly—and drank half a score bumpers with him, till he got a little tipsy—I am sure, when we had him in that mood, we might have settled the point as I could wish it, among ourselves, before the lawyers came: but now, sir, I do not ken what will be the consequence.
Eger. But when a man is intoxicated, would that have been a seasonable time to settle business, sir?
Sir Per. The most seasonable, sir:—for, sir, when my lord is in his cups—his suspicion is asleep—and his heart is aw jollity, fun, and guid fellowship; and sir, can there be a happier moment than that for a bargain, or to settle a dispute with a friend? What is it you shrug up your shoulders at, sir?
Eger. At my own ignorance, sir;—for I understand neither the philosophy nor the morality of your doctrine.
Sir Per. I know you do not, sir,—and, what is worse—you never wull, understand it, as you proceed: in one word, Charles, I have often told you, and now again I tell you, once for aw, that the manoeuvres of pliability are as necessary to rise in the world, as wrangling and logical subtlety are to rise at the bar: why you see, sir, I have acquired a noble fortune, a princely fortune—and how do you think I raised it?
Eger. Doubtless, sir, by your abilities.
Sir Per. Doubtless, sir, you are a blockhead:—nai, sir, I'll tell you how I raised it. Sir, I raised it—by bowing; [Bows ridiculously low.] by bowing: sir, I never could stand straight in the presence of a great man, but always bowed, and bowed, and bowed—as it were by instinct.
Eger. How do you mean by instinct, sir?
Sir Per. How do I mean by instinct? why, sir, I mean by—by—by the instinct of interest, sir, which is the universal instinct of mankind. Sir, it is wonderful to think, what a cordial, what an amicable, nay, what an infallible influence, bowing has upon the pride and vanity of human nature. Charles, answer me sincerely, have you a mind to be convinced of the force of my doctrine, by example and demonstration?
Eger. Certainly, sir.
Sir Per. Then, sir, as the greatest favour I can confer upon you, I'll give you a short sketch of the stages of my bowing,—as an excitement, and a landmark for you to bow be—and as an infallible nostrum to rise in the world.
Eger. Sir, I shall be proud to profit by your experience.
Sir Per. Vary weel, sir: sit ye down then, sit you down here: [They sit down.]—and now, sir, you must recall to your thoughts, that your grandfather was a man, whose penurious income of half pay was the sum total of his fortune;—and, sir, aw my provision fra him was a modicum of Latin, an expertness in arithmetic, and a short system of worldly counsel; the principal ingredients of which were, a persevering industry, a rigid economy, a smooth tongue, a pliability of temper, and a constant attention to make every man well pleased with himself.
Eger. Very prudent advice, sir.
Sir Per. Therefore, sir, I lay it before you.—Now, sir, with these materials I set out a raw-boned stripling fra the north, to try my fortune with them here in the south; and my first step intill the world was, a beggarly clerkship in Sawney Gordon's counting house, here in the city of London, which you'll say afforded but a barren sort of a prospect.
Eger. It was not a very fertile one indeed, sir.
Sir Per. The reverse, the reverse: weel, sir, seeing myself in this unprofitable situation, I reflected deeply; I cast about my thoughts morning, noon, and night, and markt every man and every mode of prosperity,—at last I concluded that a matrimonial adventure, prudently conducted, would be the readiest gait I could gang for the bettering of my condition, and accordingly I set about it: now, sir, in this pursuit, beauty! beauty!—ah! beauty often struck mine een, and played about my heart! and fluttered, and beat, and knocked, and knocked, but the devil an entrance I ever let it get;—for I observed, sir, that beauty—is generally—a proud, vain, saucy, expensive, impertinent sort of a commodity.
Eger. Very justly observed, sir.
Sir Per. And therefore, sir, I left it to prodigals and coxcombs, that could afford to pay for it; and in its stead, sir, mark! I looked out for an ancient, weel-jointured, superannuated dowager:—a consumptive, toothless, ptisicky, wealthy widow,—or a shrivelled, cadaverous piece of deformity in the shape of an izzard, or a appersi-and,—or, in short, ainy thing, ainy thing that had the siller, the siller,—for that, sir, was the north star of my affections. Do you take me, sir; was nai that right?
Eger. O! doubtless—doubtless, sir.
Sir Per. Now, sir, where do you think I ganged to look for this woman with the siller?—nai till court, nai till playhouses or assemblies—nai, sir. I ganged till the kirk, till the anabaptist, independent, bradlonian, and muggletonian meetings; till the morning and evening service of churches and chapels of ease, and till the midnight, melting, conciliating love-feasts of the methodists; and there, sir, at last, I fell upon an old, slighted, antiquated, musty maiden, that looked—ha, ha, ha! she looked just like a skeleton in a surgeon's glass case. Now, sir, this miserable object was religiously angry with herself and aw the world; had nai comfort but in metaphysical visions, and supernatural deliriums; ha, ha, ha! Sir, she was as mad—as mad as a Bedlamite.
Eger. Not improbable, sir, there are numbers of poor creatures in the same condition.
Sir Per. O! numbers—numbers. Now, sir, this cracked creature used to pray, and sing, and sigh, and groan, and weep, and wail, and gnash her teeth constantly, morning and evening, at the Tabernacle in Moorfields: and as soon as I found she had the siller, aha! guid traith, I plumpt me down upon my knees, close by her—cheek by jowl—and prayed, and sighed, and sung, and groaned, and gnashed my teeth as vehemently as she could do for the life of her; ay, and turned up the whites of mine een, till the strings awmost crackt again:—I watcht her motions, handed her till her chair, waited on her home, got most religiously intimate with her in a week,—married her in a fortnight, buried her in a month;—touched the siller, and with a deep suit of mourning, a melancholy port, a sorrowful visage, and a joyful heart, I began the world again;—and this, sir, was the first bow, that is, the first effectual bow, I ever made till the vanity of human nature:—now, sir, do you understand this doctrine?
Eger. Perfectly well, sir.
Sir Per. Ay, but was it not right? was it not ingenious, and weel hit off?
Eger. Certainly, sir: extremely well.
Sir Per. My next bow, sir, was till your ain mother, whom I ran away with fra the boarding school; by the interest of whose family I got a guid smart place in the Treasury:—and, sir, my vary next step was intill Parliament; the which I entered with as ardent and as determined an ambition as ever agitated the heart of Cæsar himself. Sir, I bowed, and watched, and hearkened, and ran about, backwards and forwards; and attended, and dangled upon the then great man, till I got intill the vary bowels of his confidence,—and then, sir, I wriggled, and wrought, and wriggled, till I wriggled myself among the very thick of them: hah! I got my snack of the clothing, the foraging, the contracts, the lottery tickets—and aw the political bonusses;—till at length, sir, I became a much wealthier man than one half of the golden calves I had been so long a bowing to: [He rises, and Eger. rises too.]—and was nai that bowing to some purpose?
Eger. It was indeed, sir.
Sir Per. But are you convinced of the guid effects, and of the utility of bowing?
Eger. Thoroughly, sir.
Sir Per. Sir, it is infallible:—but, Charles, ah! while I was thus bowing, and wriggling, and raising this princely fortune,—ah! I met with many heart-sores and disappointments fra the want of literature, eloquence, and other popular abeleties. Sir, guin I could but have spoken in the house, I should have done the deed in half the time; but the instant I opened my mouth there, they aw fell a laughing at me;—aw which deficiencies, sir, I determined, at any expence, to have supplied by the polished education of a son, who, I hoped, would one day raise the house of Macsycophant till the highest pitch of ministerial ambition. This, sir, is my plan: I have done my part of it; Nature has done hers: you are popular, you are eloquent; aw parties like and respect you; and now, sir, it only remains for you to be directed—completion follows.
Eger. Your liberality, sir, in my education, and the judicious choice you made of the worthy gentleman, to whose virtue and abilities you entrusted me, are obligations I shall ever remember with the deepest filial gratitude.
Sir Per. Vary weel, sir: but, Charles, have you had any conversation yet with Lady Rodolpha, about the day of your marriage—your liveries—your equipage—or your domestic establishment?
Eger. Not yet, sir.
Sir Per. Poh! why there again now you are wrong—vary wrong.
Eger. Sir, we have not had an opportunity.
Sir Per. Why, Charles, you are vary tardy in this business.
Lord Lum. [Sings without, flusht with wine.] 'What have we with day to do?'
Sir Per. O! here comes my lord.
Lord Lum. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you,' [Enters, drinking a dish of coffee: TOMLINS waiting with a salver in his hand.] —'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Very, good coffee indeed, Mr. Tomlins. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Here, Mr. Tomlins.
Tom. Will your lordship please to have another dish?
Lord Lum. No more, Mr. Tomlins. [Exit Tomlins.] Ha, ha, ha! my host of the Scotch pints, we have had warm work.
Sir Per. Yes; you pushed the bottle about, my lord, with the joy and vigour of a Bacchanal.
Lord Lum. That I did, my dear Mac; no loss of time with me: I have but three motions, old boy,—charge—toast—fire—and off we go: ha, ha, ha! that's my exercise.
Sir Per. And fine warm exercise it is, my lord,—especially with the half-pint glasses.
Lord Lum. Zounds! it does execution point blanc:—ay, ay, none of your pimping acorn glasses for me, but your manly, old English half-pint bumpers, my dear: they try a fellow's stamina at once:—but, where's Egerton?
Sir Per. Just at hand, my lord; there he stands—looking at your lordship's picture.
Lord Lum. My dear Egerton.
Eger. Your lordship's most obedient.
Lord Lum. I beg pardon: I did not see you: I am sorry you left us so soon after dinner: had you staid, you would have been highly entertained. I have made such examples of the commissioner, the captain, and the colonel.
Eger. So I understand, my lord.
Lord Lum. But, Egerton, I have slipt from the company for a few moments, on purpose to have a little chat with you. Rodolpha tells me she fancies there is a kind of demur on your side, about your marriage with her.
Sir Per. A demur! how so, my lord?
Lord Lum. Why, as I was drinking my coffee with the women just now, I desired they would fix the wedding night, and the etiquette of the ceremony; upon which the girl burst into a loud laugh, telling me she supposed I was joking, for that Mr. Egerton had never yet given her a single glance or hint upon the subject.
Sir Per. My lord, I have been just now talking to him about his shyness to the lady.
Enter TOMLINS..
Tom. Counsellor Plausible is come, sir, and serjeant Eitherside.
Sir Per. Why then we can settle the business this very evening, my lord.
Lord Lum. As well as in seven years: and, to make the way as short as possible, pray, Mr. Tomlins, present your master's compliments and mine to Lady Rodolpha, and let her ladyship know we wish to speak with her directly: [Exit Tomlins.]—He shall attack her this instant, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. Ay! this is doing business effectually, my lord.
Lord Lum. O! I will pit them in a moment, Sir Pertinax,—that will bring them into the heat of the action at once, and save a great deal of awkwardness on both sides. O! here your dulcinea comes, sir.
Enter Lady RODOLPHA, singing, a music paper in her hand.
Lady Rod. I have been learning this air of Constantia: I protest, her touch on the harpsichord is quite brilliant, and really her voice not amiss. Weel, Sir Pertinax, I attend your commands, and yours, my paternal lord. [Lady Rod. curtsies very low; my lord bows very low, and answers in the same tone and manner.]
Lord Lum. Why, then, my filial lady, we are to inform you that the commission for your ladyship and this enamoured cavalier, commanding you to serve your country, jointly and inseparably, in the honourable and forlorn hope of matrimony, is to be signed this very evening.
Lady Rod. This evening, my lord!
Lord Lum. This evening, my lady. Come, Sir Pertinax, let us leave them to settle their liveries, wedding-suits, carriages, and all their amorous equipage, for the nuptial campaign.
Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha! excellent! excellent! weel, I vow, my lord, you are a great officer:—this is as guid a manoeuvre to bring on a rapid engagement as the ablest general of them aw could have started.
Lord Lum. Ay, ay! leave them together; they'll soon come to a right understanding, I warrant you, or the needle and loadstone have lost their sympathy. [Exit Lord Lum. and Sir Per.
[Lady Rodolpha stands at that side of the Stage, where they went off, in amazement: Egerton is at the opposite side, who, after some anxious emotion, settles into a deep reflection:—this part of the scene must be managed by a nice whispering tone of self-conversation mutually observed by the Lovers.]
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Why, this is downright tyranny! it has quite dampt my spirits; and my betrothed, yonder, seems planet-struck too, I think.
Eger. [Aside.] A whimsical situation, mine!
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Ha, ha, ha! methinks we look like a couple of cautious generals, that are obliged to take the field, but neither of us seems willing to come till action.
Eger. [Aside.] I protest, I know not how to address her.
Lady Rod. [Aside.] He will nai advance, I see: what am I to do in this affair? guid traith, I will even do, as I suppose many brave heroes have done before me,—clap a guid face upon the matter, and so conceal an aching heart under a swaggering countenance. [As she advances, she points at him, and smothers a laugh; but when she speaks to him, the tone must be loud, and rude on the word Sir.] Sir, as we have,—by the commands of our guid fathers, a business of some little consequence to transact,—I hope you will excuse my taking the liberty of recommending a chair till you, for the repose of your body—in the embarrassed deliberation of your perturbed spirits.
Eger. [Greatly embarrassed.] Madam, I beg your pardon. [Hands her a chair, then one for himself.] Please to sit, madam. [They sit down with great ceremony: she sits down first. He sits at a distance from her. They are silent for some time. He coughs, hems, and adjusts himself. She mimicks him.]
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Aha! he's resolved not to come too near till me, I think.
Eger. [Aside.] A pleasant interview, this—hem, hem!
Lady Rod. [Aside, mimicks him to herself.] Hem! he will not open the congress, I see.—Then I will.—[very loud.] Come, sir, when will you begin?
Eger. [Greatly surprised.] Begin! what, madam?
Lady Rod. To make love till me.
Eger. Love, madam!
Lady Rod. Ay, love, sir.—Why, you have never said a word till me on the subject,—nor cast a single glance at me,—nor heaved one tender sigh,—nor even secretly squeezed my loof:—now, sir, thof our fathers are so tyrannical as to dispose of us without the consent of our hearts;—yet you, sir, I hope, have more humanity than to think of marrying me without administering some of the preliminaries, usual on those occasions:—if not till my understanding and sentiments, yet till the vanity of my sex, at least, I hope you will pay some little tribute of ceremony and adulation: that, I think, I have a right to expect.
Eger. Madam, I own your reproach is just:—I shall therefore no longer disguise my sentiments, but fairly let you know my heart.
Lady Rod. [Starts up, and runs to him.] That's right,—that is right, cousin;—honourably and affectionately right;—that is what I like of aw things in my swain.—Ay, ay, cousin—open your mind frankly till me, as a true lover shou'd.—But sit you down—sit you down again: I shall return your frankness and your passion, cousin, with a melting tenderness, equal till the amorous enthusiasm of an ancient heroine.
Eger. Madam, if you will hear me——
Lady Rod. But, remember, you must begin with fervency,—and a most rapturous vehemency:—for you are to consider, cousin, that our match is nai to arise fra the union of hearts, and a long decorum of ceremonious courtship;—but is instantly to start at once—out of necessity, or mere accident;—ha, ha, ha! like a match in an ancient romance,—where you ken, cousin,—the knight and the damsel are mutually smitten and dying for each other at first sight,—or by an amorous sympathy before they exchange a single glance.
Eger. Dear madam, you entirely mistake——
Lady Rod. And our fathers,—ha, ha, ha! our fathers are to be the dark magicians that are to fascinate our hearts and conjure us together, whether we will or not.
Eger. Ridiculous!
Lady Rod. So now, cousin, with the true romantic enthusiasm,—you are to suppose me the lady of the enchanted castle, and you—ha, ha, ha! you are to be the knight of the sorrowful countenance—ha, ha, ha! and, upon honour—you look the character admirably;—ha, ha, ha!
Eger. Rude trifling creature!
Lady Rod. Come, sir,—why do you nai begin to ravish me with your valour, your vows, your knight errantry, and your amorous phrenzy.—Nay, nay, nay! guin you do nai begin at once, the lady of the enchanted castle will vanish in a twinkling.
Eger. Lady Rodolpha, I know your talent for raillery well;—but at present, in my case, there is a kind of cruelty in it.
Lady Rod. Raillery! upon honour, cousin, you mistake me quite and clean.—I am serious—very serious;—ay, and I have cause to be serious;— nay, I will submit my case even till yourself. [Whines.] Can any poor lassy be in a more lamentable condition, than to be sent four hundred miles, by the command of a positive grandmother, to marry a man, who I find has no more affection for me,—than if I had been his wife these seven years.
Eger. Madam, I am extremely sorry——
Lady Rod. [Cries and sobs.] But it is vary weel, cousin.—I see your unkindness and aversion plain enough,—and, sir, I must tell you fairly, you are the ainly man that ever slighted my person,—or that drew tears fra these een.—But—it is vary weel—it's vary weel—I will return till Scotland to-morrow morning, and let my grandmother know how I have been affronted by your slights, your contempts, and your aversions.
Eger. If you are serious, madam, your distress gives me a deep concern;—but affection is not in our power; and when you know that my heart is irrecoverably given to another woman, I think, your understanding and good nature will not only pardon my past coldness and neglect of you,—but forgive me when I tell you, I never can have that honour which is intended me,—by a connection with your ladyship.
Lady Rod. [Starting up.] How, sir!—are you serious?
Eger. [Rises.] Madam, I am too deeply interested, both as a man of honour and a lover, to act otherwise with you on so tender a subject.
Lady Rod. And so you persist in slighting me?
Eger. I beg your pardon, madam; but I must be explicit, and at once declare—that I never can give my hand where I cannot give my heart.
Lady Rod. [In great anger.] Why then, sir, I must tell you, that your declaration is sic an affront as nai woman of spirit can, or ought to bear:—and here I make a solemn vow, never to pardon it, but on one condition.
Eger. If that condition be in my power, madam——
Lady Rod. [Snaps him up.] Sir, it is in your power.
Eger. Then, madam, you may command me.
Lady Rod. [With a firm peremptory command]. Why then, sir, the condition is this;—you must here give me your honour,—that nai importunity,—command,—or menace of your father,—in fine, that nai consideration whatever,—shall induce you to take me, Rodolpha Lumbercourt, to be your wedded wife.
Eger. Madam, I most solemnly promise, I never will.
Lady Rod. And I, sir, most solemnly, and sincerely [Curtsies.] thank you—for [Curtsies.] your resolution, and your agreeable aversion—ha, ha, ha! for you have made me as happy as a poor wretch, reprieved in the vary instant of intended execution.
Eger. Pray, madam, how am I to understand all this?
Lady Rod.[With frankness, and, a reverse of manners.] Why, sir, your frankness and sincerity demand the same behaviour on my side;—therefore, without farther disguise or ambiguity, know, sir, that I myself [With a deep sigh.] am as deeply smitten with a certain swain, as I understand you are with your Constantia.
Eger. Indeed, madam!
Lady Rod. [With an amiable, soft, tender sincerity.] O! sir, notwithstanding aw my shew of courage and mirth,—here I stand—as errant a trembling Thisbe, as ever sighed or mourned for her Pyramus,—and, sir, aw my extravagant levity and ridiculous behaviour in your presence now, and ever since your father prevailed upon mine to consent till this match, has been a premeditated scheme to provoke your gravity and guid sense intill a cordial disgust, and a positive refusal.
Eger. Madam, you have contrived and executed your scheme most happily.
Lady Rod. Then, since Cupid has thus luckily disposed of you till your Constantia, and me till my swain, we have nothing to think of now, sir, but to contrive how to reduce the inordinate passions of our parents intill a temper of prudence and humanity.
Eger. Most willingly I consent to your proposal.——But, with your leave, madam, if I may presume so far;—'pray, who is your lover?
Lady Rod. Why, in that too I shall surprise you perhaps more than ever.—In the first place—he is a beggar—and in disgrace with an unforgiving father;—and in the next place,—he is [Curtsies.] your ain brother.
Eger. Is it possible?
Lady Rod. A most amorous truth, sir;—that is, as far as a woman can answer for her ain heart. [in a laughing gaiety.] So you see, cousin Charles, thof I you'd nai mingle affections with you—I have nai ganged out of the family.
Eger. [A polite rapture, frank.] Madam, give me leave to congratulate myself upon your affection,—you cou'd not have placed it on a worthier object; and, whatever is to be our chance in this lottery of our parents, be assured that my fortune shall be devoted to your happiness and his.
Lady Rod. Generous, indeed, cousin—but not a whit nobler, I assure you, than your brother Sandy believes of you.—And, be assured, sir, that we shall both remember it, while the heart feels, or the memory retains a sense of gratitude.—But now, sir, let me ask one question:—Pray, how is your mother affected in this business?
Eger. She knows of my passion, and will, I am sure, be a friend to the common cause.
Lady Rod. Ah! that's lucky. Our first step then must be to take her advice upon our conduct, so as to keep our fathers in the dark till we can hit off some measure that will wind them about till our ain purpose, and the common interest of our ain passion.
Eger. You are very right, madam, for, should my father suspect my brother's affection for your ladyship, or mine for Constantia, there is no guessing what wou'd be the consequence.—His whole happiness depends upon this bargain with my lord; for it gives him the possession of three boroughs, and those, madam, are much dearer to him than the happiness of his children. I am sorry to say it, but, to gratify his political rage, he wou'd sacrifice every social tie, that is dear to friend or family. [Exeunt.