The Man of the World (1792)

by Charles Macklin

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Sir PERTINAX, and Counsellor PLAUSIBLE.

Sir Per. No, no.—Come away, Counsellor Plausible;—come away, I say;—let them chew upon it.—Why, counsellor, did you ever see so impertinent, so meddling, and so obstinate a blockhead, as that Serjeant Eitherside? Confound the fellow—he has put me out of aw temper.

Plaus. He is very positive, indeed, Sir Pertinax,—and no doubt was intemperate and rude. But, Sir Pertinax, I wou'd not break off the match notwithstanding; for certainly, even without the boroughs, it is an advantageous bargain both to you and your son.

Sir Per. But, zounds! Plausible, do you think I will give up the nomination till three boroughs?—Why I wou'd rather give him twenty, nay thirty thousand pounds in any other part of the bargain:—especially at this juncture, when votes are likely to become so valuable.—Why, man, if a certain affair comes on, they will rise above five hundred per cent.

Plaus. You judge very rightly, Sir Pertinax;—but what shall we do in this case? for Mr. Serjeant insists that you positively agreed to my lord's having the nomination to the three boroughs during his own life.

Sir Per. Why yes,—in the first sketch of the agreement, I believe I did consent:—but at that time, man, my lord's affairs did not appear to be half so desperate, as I now find they turn out.—Sir, he must acquiesce in whatever I demand, for I have got him intill sic an a hobble that he cannot——

Plaus. No doubt, Sir Pertinax, you have him absolutely in your power.

Sir Per. Vary weel:—And ought rial a man to make his vantage of it?

Plaus. No doubt you ought;—no manner of doubt.—But, Sir Pertinax, there is a secret spring in this business, that you do not seem to perceive;—and which, I am afraid, governs the matter respecting these boroughs.

Sir Per. What spring do you mean, counsellor?

Plaus. Why this Serjeant Eitherside,—I have some reason to think that my lord is tied down by some means or other to bring the serjeant in, the very first vacancy, for one of these boroughs;—now that, I believe, is the sole motive why the serjeant is so strenuous that my lord should keep the boroughs in his own power;—fearing that you might reject him for some man of your own.

Sir Per. Odswunds and death! Plausible, you are clever,—devilish clever.—By the blood, you have hit upon the vary string that has made aw thjs discord.—Oh! I see it,—I see it now.—But hauld—hauld—bide a wee bit—a wee bit, man;—I have a thought come intill my head—yes—I think, Plausible, that with a little twist in our negotiation that this vary string, properly tuned, may be still made to produce the vary harmony we wish for.—Yes, yes! I have it: this serjeant, I see, understands business—and, if I am not. mistaken, knows how to take a hint.

Plaus. O! nobody better, Sir Pertinax.

Sir Per. Why then, Plausible, the short road is always the best with sic a man.—You. must even come up till his mark at once, and assure him from me—that I will secure him a seat for one of these vary boroughs.

Plaus. O! that will do, Sir Pertinax—that will do, I'll answer for't.

Sir Per. And further—I beg you will let him know that I think myself obliged to consider him in this affair, as acting for me as weel as for my lord,—as a common friend till baith:—and for the services he has already done us, make my special compliments till him—and pray let this amicable bit of paper be my faithful advocate to convince him of what my gratitude further intends for his great [Gives him a bank-bill.] equity in adjusting this agreement betwixt my lord and me.

Plaus. Ha, ha, ha!—upon my word, Sir Pertinax, this is noble.—Ay, ay! this is an eloquent bit of paper indeed.

Sir Per. Maister Plausible, in aw human dealings the most effectual method is that of ganging at once till the vary bottom of a man's heart:—for if we expect that men shou'd serve us,—we must first win their affections by serving them.—O! here they baith come.

Enter Lord LUMBERCOURT, and Serjeant EITHERSIDE.

Lord Lum. My dear Sir Pertinax, what could provoke you to break off this business so abruptly? you are really wrong in the point,—and if you will give yourself time to recollect, you will find that my having the nomination to the boroughs for my life was a preliminary article;—I appeal to Mr. Serjeant Eitherside here, whether I did not always understand it so.

_Serj._I assure you, Sir Pertinax, that in all his lordship's conversation with me upon this business, and in his positive instructions,—both he and I always understood the nomination to be in my lord, durantê vitâ.

SirPer. Why, then my lord, to shorten the dispute, aw that I can say in answer till your lordship is—that there has been a total mistake betwixt us in that point,—and therefore the treaty must end here. I give it up.— O! I wash my hands of it for ever.

Plaus. Well, but gentlemen, gentlemen, a little patience.—Sure this mistake, some how or other, may be rectified.—Pr'ythee, Mr. Serjeant, let you and I step into the next room by ourselves, and reconsider the clause relative to the boroughs, and try if we cannot hit upon a medium that will be agreeable to both parties.

Serj. [With great warmth.] Mr. Plausible, I have considered the clause fully;—am entirely master of the question;—my lord cannot give up the point.—It is unkind and unreasonable to expect it.

Plaus. Nay, Mr. Serjeant, I beg you will not misunderstand me. Do not think I want his lordship to give up any point without an equivalent.—Sir Pertinax, will you permit Mr. Serjeant and me to retire a few moments to reconsider this point?

Sir Per. With aw my heart, Maister Plausible; any thing to oblige his lordship—any thing to accomodate his lordship—any thing.

Plaus. What say you, my lord?

Lord Lum Nay, I submit it entirely to you and Mr. Serjeant.

Plaus. Come, Mr. Serjeant, let us retire.

Lord Lum. Ay, ay,—go, Mr. Serjeant, and hear what Mr. Plausible has to say.

Serj. Nay, I'll wait on Mr. Plausible, my lord, with all my heart; but I am sure I cannot suggest the shadow of a reason for altering my present opinion: impossible—impossible.

Plaus. Well, well, Mr. Serjeant, do not be positive. I am sure, reason, and your client's conveniency, will always make you alter your opinion.

Serj. Ay, ay—reason, and my client's conveniency, Mr. Plausible, will always controul my opinion, depend upon it: ay, ay! there you are right. Sir, I attend you. [Exeunt Lawyers.

Sir Per. I am sorry, my lord, extremely sorry indeed, that this mistake has happened.

Lord Lum. Upon my honour, and so am I, Sir Pertinax.

Sir Per. But come now, after aw, your lordship must allow you have been in the wrong: come, my dear lord, you must allow me that now.

Lord Lum. How so, my dear Sir Pertinax?

Sir Per. Not about the boroughs, my lord, for those I do no mind of a bawbee;—but about your distrust of my friendship.—Why, do you think now—I appeal till your ain breast, my lord—do you think, I say, that I should ever have slighted your lordship's nomination till these boroughs.

Lord Lum. Why, really, I do not think you would, Sir Pertinax, but one must be directed by one's lawyer, you know.

Sir Per. Hah! my lord, lawyers are a dangerous species of animals to have any dependance upon: they are always starting punctilios and difficulties among friends. Why, my dear lord, it is their interest that aw mankind should be at variance: for disagreement is the vary manure with which they enrich and fatten the land of litigation; and as they find that that constantly promotes the best crop, depend upon it, they will always be sure to lay it on as thick as they can.

Lord Lum. Come, come, my dear Sir Pertinax, you must not be angry with the serjeant for his insisting so warmly on this point—for those boroughs, you know, are my sheet anchor.

Sir Per. I know it, my lord,—and, as an instance of my promptness to study, and of my acquiescence till your lordship's inclination, as I see that this Serjeant Eitherside wishes you weel and you him, I think now he would be as guid a man to be returned for one of those boroughs as could be pitched upon—and as such, I humbly recommend him till your lordship's consideration.

Lord Lum. Why, my dear Sir Pertinax, to tell you the truth, I have already promised him. He must be in for one of them, and that is one reason why I insisted so strenuously: he must be in.

Sir Per. And why not? odswunds! why not? is nai your word a fiat? and will it nai be always so till me? are ye nai my friend—my patron—and are we nai, by this match of our children, to be united intill one interest?

Lord Lum. So I understand it, I own, Sir Pertinax.

Sir Per. My lord, it can nai be otherwise: then, for Heaven's sake, as your lordship and I can have but one interest for the future, let us have nai mair words about these paltry boroughs, but conclude the agreement just as it stands; otherwise there must be new writings drawn, new consultations of lawyers, new objections and delays will arise,—creditors will be impatient and impertinent, so that we shall nai finish the Lord knows when.

Lord Lum. You are right, you are right: say no more, Mac, say no more. Split the lawyers—you judge the point better than all Westminster-hall could. It shall stand as it is: yes, you shall settle it your own way: for your interest and mine are the same, I see plainly.

Sir Per. No doubt of it, my lord.

Lord Lum. O! here the lawyers come.

Enter Counsellor PLAUSIBLE and Serjeant EITHERSIDE.

Lord Lum. So, gentlemen—well, what have you done? how are your opinions now?

Serj. My lord, Mr. Plausible has convinced me—fully convinced me.

Plaus. Yes, my lord, I have convinced him; I have laid such arguments before Mr. Serjeant as were irresistible.

Serj. He has indeed, my lord: besides, as Sir Pertinax gives his honour that your lordship's nomination shall be sacredly observed, why, upon a nearer review of the whole matter, I think it will be the wiser measure to conclude the agreement just as it is drawn.

Lord Lum. I am very glad you think so, Mr. Serjeant, because that is my opinion too: so, my dear Eitherside, do you and Plausible dispatch the business now as soon as possible.

Serj. My lord, every thing will be ready in less than an hour. Come, Mr. Plausible, let us go and fill up the blanks, and put the last hand to the writings on our part.

Plaus. I attend you, Mr. Serjeant. [Exeunt Lawyers.

Lord Lum. And while the lawyers are preparing the writings, Sir Pertinax, I will go and saunter with the women.

Sir Per. Do, do, my lord: and I will come till you presently.

Lord Lum. Very well, my dear Mac, I shall expect you. [Exit singing, 'Sons of care,' &c.

Sir Per. So! a little flattery mixt with the finesse of a gilded promise on one side, and a quantum sufficit of the aurum palpabile on the other, have at last made me the happiest father in Great-Britain. Hah! my heart expands itself, as it were thro' every part of my whole body, at the completion of this business, and feels nothing but dignity and elevation.—Hauld! hauld! bide a wee! bide a wee! I have but one little matter mair in this affair to adjust, and then, Sir Pertinax, you may dictate till Fortune herself, and send her to govern fools, while you shew and convince the world that wise men always govern her. Wha's there? [Enter Footman.]—Tell my son Egerton, I would speak with him here in the library. [Exit Footman]—Now I have settled the grand point with my lord, this, I think, is the proper juncture to feel the political pulse of my spark, and, once for aw, to set it to the exact measure that I would have it constantly beat. [Enter Egerton.]—Come hither, Charles.

Eger. Your pleasure, sir.

Sir Per. About twa hours since I told you, Charles, that I received this letter express, complaining of your brother's activity at an election in Scotland against a particular friend of mine, which has given great offence; and, sir, you are mentioned in the letter as weel as he: to be plain, I must roundly tell you, that on this interview depends my happiness as a father and as a man; and my affection to you, sir, as a son for the remainder of our days.

Eger. I hope, sir, I shall never do any thing either to forfeit your affection, or disturb your happiness.

Sir Per. I hope so too—but to the point.—The fact is this: there has been a motion made this vary day to bring on the grand affair—which is settled for Friday seven-night:—now, sir, as you are popular—have talents, and are weel heard, it is expected, and I insist upon it, that you endeavour to atone, sir, for your late misconduct, by preparing, and taking a large share in that question, and supporting it with aw your power.

Eger, Sir, I have always divided as you directed, except on one occasion; never voted against your friends, only in that affair.—But, sir, I hope you will not so exert your influence as to insist upon my supporting a measure by an obvious, prostituted sophistry, in direct opposition to my character and my conscience.

Sir Per. Conscience! why, you are mad! did you ever hear any man talk of conscience in political matters? Conscience, quotha? I have been in Parliament these three and thraty years, and never heard the term made use of before:—sir, it is an unparliamentary word, and you will be laughed at for it;—therefore I desire you will not offer to impose upon me with sic phantoms, but let me know your reason for thus slighting my friends and disobeying my commands.—Sir, give me an immediate and an explicit answer.

Eger. Then, sir, I must frankly tell you, that you work against my nature; you would connect me with men I despise, and press me into measures I abhor; would make me a devoted slave to selfish leaders, who have no friendship but in faction—no merit but in corruption—nor interest in any measure, but their own;—and to such men I cannot submit; for know, sir, that the malignant ferment which the venal ambition of the times provokes in the heads and hearts of other men, I detest.

Sir Per. What are you about, sir? malignant ferment! and venal ambition! Sir, every man should be ambitious to serve his country—and every man should be rewarded for it: and pray, sir, would nai you wish to serve your country? Answer me that.—I say, would nai you wish to serve your country?

Eger. Only shew me how I can serve my country, and my life is hers. Were I qualified to lead her armies, to steer her fleets, and deal her honest vengeance on her insulting foes;—or could my eloquence pull down a state leviathan, mighty by the plunder of his country—black with the treasons of her disgrace, and send his infamy down to a free posterity, as a monumental terror to corrupt ambition, I would be foremost in such service, and act it with the unremitting ardour of a Roman spirit.

Sir Per. Vary weel, sir! vary weel! the fellow is beside himself!

Eger. But to be a common barker at envied power—to beat the drum of faction, and sound the trumpet of insidious patriotism, only to displace a rival,—or to be a servile voter in proud corruption's filthy train,—to market out my voice, my reason, and my trust, to the party-broker, who best can promise, or pay for prostitution; these, sir, are services my nature abhors,—for they are such a malady to every kind of virtue, as must in time destroy the fairest constitution that ever wisdom framed, or virtuous liberty fought for.

Sir Per. Why, are you mad, sir? you have certainly been bit by some mad whig or other: but now, sir, after aw this foul-mouthed frenzy, and patriotic vulgar intemperance, suppose we were to ask you a plain question or twa: Pray, what single instance can you, or any man, give of the political vice or corruption of these days, that has nai been practised in the greatest states, and in the most virtuous times? I challenge you to give me a single instance.

Eger. Your pardon, sir—it is a subject I wish to decline: you know, sir, we never can agree about it.

Sir Per. Sir, I insist upon an answer.

Eger. I beg you will excuse me, sir.

Sir Per. I will not excuse you, sir. I insist.

Eger. Then, sir, in obedience, and with your patience, I will answer your question.

Sir Per. Ay! ay! I will be patient, never fear: come, let us have it, let us have it.

Eger. You shall; and now, sir, let prejudice, the rage of party, and the habitual insolence of successful vice—pause but for one moment,—and let religion, laws, power herself, the policy of a nation's virtue, and Britain's guardian genius, take a short, impartial retrospect but of one transaction, notorious in this land,—then must they behold yeomen, freemen, citizens, artizans, divines, courtiers, patriots, merchants, soldiers, sailors, and the whole plebeian tribe, in septennial procession, urged and seduced by the contending great ones of the land to the altar of perjury,—with the bribe in one hand, and the evangelist in the other,—impiously, and audaciously affront the Majesty of Heaven, by calling him to witness that they have not received, nor ever will receive, reward or consideration for his suffrage.—Is not this a fact, sir? Can it be denied? Can it be believed by those who know not Britain? Or can it be matched in the records of human policy?—Who then, sir, that reflects one moment, as a Briton or a Christian, on this picture, would be conducive to a people's infamy and a nation's ruin?

Sir Per. Sir, I have heard your rhapsody with a great deal of patience! and great astonishment,—and you are certainly beside yourself. What the devil business have you to trouble your head about the sins or the Souls of other men? You should leave these matters till the clergy, wha are paid for looking after them; and let every man gang till the devil his ain way: besides, it is nai decent to find fault with what is winked at by the whole nation—nay, and practised by aw parties.

Eger. That, sir, is the very shame, the ruin I complain of.

Sir Per. Oh! you are vary young, vary young in these matters, but experience will convince you, sir, that every man in public business has twa consciences,—a religious, and a political conscience. Why, you see a merchant now, or a shop-keeper, that kens the science of the world, always looks upon an oath at a custom-house, or behind a counter, only as an oath in business, a thing of course, a mere thing of course, that has nothing to do with religion;—and just so it is at an election:—for instance now—I am a candidate, pray observe, and I gang till a periwig-maker, a hatter, or a hosier, and I give ten, twenty, or thraty guineas for a periwig, a hat, or a pair of hose; and so on, thro' a majority of voters;—vary weel;—what is the consequence? Why, this commercial intercourse, you see, begets a friendship betwixt us, a commercial friendship—and, in a day or twa these men gang and give me their suffrages; weel! what is the inference? Pray, sir, can you, or any lawyer, divine, or casuist, cawl this a bribe? Nai, sir, in fair political reasoning, it is ainly generosity on the one side, and gratitude on the other. So, sir, let me have nai mair of your religious or philosophical refinements, but prepare, attend, and speak till the question, or you are nai son of mine. Sir, I insist upon it.

Enter SAM.

Sam. Sir, my lord says the writings are now ready, and his lordship and the lawyers are waiting for you and Mr. Egerton.

Sir Per. Vary weel: we'll attend his lordship. [Exit Sam.] I tell you, Charles, aw this conscientious refinement in politics is downright ignorance, and impracticable romance; and, sir, I desire I may hear no more of it. Come, sir, let us gang down and finish this business.

Eger. [Stopping Sir Per. as he is going off,] Sir, with your permission, I beg you will first hear a word or two upon this subject.

Sir Per. Weel, sir, what would you say?

Eger. I have often resolved to let you know my aversion to this match.—

Sir Per. How, sir!

Eger. But my respect, and fear of disobliging you, have hitherto kept me silent—

Sir Per. Your aversion! your aversion, sir! how dare you use sic language till me? Your aversion! Look you, sir, I shall cut the matter vary short:—consider, my fortune is nai inheritance; aw mine ain acquisition: I can make ducks and drakes of it; so do not provoke me, but sign the articles directly.

Eger. I beg your pardon, sir, but I must be free on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I can no longer dissemble the honest passion that fills my heart for another woman.

Sir Per. How! another woman! and, you villain, how dare you love another woman without my leave? But what other woman—wha is she? Speak, sir, speak.

Eger. Constantia.

Sir Per. Constantia! oh, you profligate! what! a creature taken in for charity!

Eger. Her poverty is not her crime, sir, but her misfortune: her birth is equal to the noblest; and virtue, tho' covered with a village garb, is virtue still; and of more worth to me than all the splendor of ermined pride or redundant wealth. Therefore, sir—

Sir Per. Haud your jabbering, you villain, haud your jabbering; none of your romance or refinement till me. I have but one question to ask you—but one question—and then I have done with you for ever, for ever; therefore think before you answer:—Will you marry the lady, or will you break my heart?

Eger. Sir, my presence shall not offend you any longer: but when reason and reflection take their turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with yourself for this unpaternal passion. [Going.

Sir Per. Tarry, I command you; and, I command you likewise not to stir till you have given me an answer, a definitive answer: Will you marry the lady, or will you not?

Eger. Since you command me, sir, know then, that I can not, will not marry her. [Exit.

Sir Per. Oh! the villain has shot me thro' the head! he has cut my vitals! I shall run distracted;—the fellow destroys aw my measures—aw my schemes:—there never was sic a bargain as I have made with this foolish lord,—possession of his whole estate, with three boroughs upon it—six members—Why, what an acquisition! what consequence! what dignity! what weight till the house of Macsycophant! O! damn the fellow! three boroughs, only for sending down six broomsticks.—O! miserable! miserable! ruined! undone! For these five and twanty years, ever since this fellow came intill the world, have I been secretly preparing him for ministerial dignity,—and with the fellow's eloquence, abilities, popularity, these boroughs, and proper connections, he might certainly, in a little time, have done the deed; and sure never were times so favorable, every thing conspires, for aw the auld political post-horses are broken-winded and foundered, and cannot get on; and as till the rising generation, the vanity of surpassing one another in what they foolishly call taste and elegance, binds them hand and foot in the chains of luxury, which will always set them up till the best bidder; so that if they can but get wherewithal to supply their dissipation, a minister may convert the political morals of aw sic voluptuaries intill a vote that would sell the nation till Prester John, and their boasted liberties till the great Mogul;—and this opportunity I shall lose by my son's marrying a vartuous beggar for love:—O! confound her vartue! it will drive me distracted. [Exit.