SCENE I.
The Quay.
Enter Patty.
Patty. Mercy on us! what a walk I have had of it! Well, matters go on swimmingly at the Governor's—The old gentleman has ordered the carriage, and the young couple will be whisked here, to church, in a quarter of an hour. My business is to prevent young sobersides, young Inkle, from appearing, to interrupt the ceremony.—Ha! here's the Crown, where I hear he is housed: So now to find Trudge, and trump up a story, in the true style of a chambermaid. [Goes into the house.] [Patty within.] I tell you it don't signify, and I will come up. [Trudge within.] But it does signify, and you can't come up.
Re-enter Patty with Trudge.
Patty. You had better say at once, I shan't.
Trudge. Well then, you shan't.
Patty. Savage! Pretty behaviour you have picked up amongst the Hottypots! Your London civility, like London itself, will soon be lost in smoke, Mr. Trudge: and the politeness you have studied so long in Threadneedle-street, blotted out by the blacks you have been living with.
Trudge. No such thing; I practised my politeness all the while I was in the woods. Our very lodging taught me good manners; for I could never bring myself to go into it without bowing.
Patty. Don't tell me! A mighty civil reception you give a body, truly, after a six weeks parting.
Trudge. Gad, you're right; I am a little out here, to be sure. [Kisses her.] Well, how do you do?
Patty. Pshaw, fellow! I want none of your kisses.
Trudge. Oh! very well—I'll take it again. [Offers to kiss her.]
Patty. Be quiet. I want to see Mr. Inkle: I have a message to him from Miss Narcissa. I shall get a sight of him, now, I believe.
Trudge. May be not. He's a little busy at present.
Patty. Busy—ha! Plodding! What he's at his multiplication table again?
Trudge. Very likely; so it would be a pity to interrupt him, you know.
Patty. Certainly; and the whole of my business was to prevent his hurrying himself—Tell him, we shan't be ready to receive him, at the Governor's, till to-morrow, d'ye hear?
Trudge. No?
Patty. No. Things are not prepared. The place isn't in order; and the servants have not had proper notice of the arrival. Sir Christopher intends Mr. Inkle, you know, for his son-in-law, and must receive him in public form, (which can't be till to-morrow morning) for the honour of his governorship: why the whole island will ring of it.
Trudge. The devil it will!
Patty. Yes; they've talked of nothing but my mistress's beauty and fortune for these six weeks. Then he'll be introduced to the bride, you know.
Trudge. O, my poor master!
Patty. Then a breakfast; then a procession; then—if nothing happens to prevent it, he'll get into church, and be married in a crack.
Trudge. Then he'll get into a damn'd scrape, in a crack.
Patty. Hey-day! a scrape! How!
Trudge. Nothing, nothing——It must out——Patty!
Patty. Well!
Trudge. Can you keep a secret?
Patty. Try me.
Trudge. Then [Whispering.] My master keeps a girl.
Patty. Oh, monstrous! another woman?
Trudge. As sure as one and one make two.
Patty. [Aside.] Rare news for my mistress!—Why I can hardly believe it: the grave, sly, steady, sober Mr. Inkle, do such a thing!
Trudge. Pooh! it's always your sly, sober fellows, that go the most after the girls.
Patty. Well; I should sooner suspect you.
Trudge. Me? Oh Lord! he! he!—Do you think any smart, tight, little, black-eyed wench, would be struck with my figure? [Conceitedly.]
Patty. Pshaw! never mind your figure. Tell me how it happened?
Trudge. You shall hear: when the ship left us ashore, my master turned as pale as a sheet of paper. It isn't every body that's blest with courage, Patty.
Patty. True.
Trudge. However, I bid him cheer up; told him, to stick to my elbow: took the lead, and began our march.
Patty. Well?
Trudge. We hadn't gone far, when a damn'd one-eyed black boar, that grinned like a devil, came down the hill in jog trot! My Master melted as fast as a pot of pomatum!
Patty. Mercy on us!
Trudge. But what does I do, but whips out my desk knife, that I used to cut the quills with at home; met the monster, and slit up his throat like a pen—The boar bled like a pig.
Patty. Lord! Trudge, what a great traveller you are!
Trudge. Yes; I remember we fed on the flitch for a week.
Patty. Well, well; but the lady.
Trudge. The lady! Oh, true. By and by we came to a cave—a large hollow room, under ground, like a warehouse in the Adelphi.—Well; there we were half an hour, before I could get him to go in; there's no accounting for fear, you know. At last, in we went, to a place hung round with skins, as it might be a furrier's shop, and there was a fine lady, snoring on a bow and arrows.
Patty. What, all alone?
Trudge. Eh!—No—no.—Hum—She had a young lion, by way of a lap-dog.
Patty. Gemini; what did you do?
Trudge. Gave her a jog, and she opened her eyes—she struck my master immediately.
Patty. Mercy on us! with what?
Trudge. With her beauty, you ninny, to be sure: and they soon brought matters to bear. The wolves witnessed the contract—I gave her away—The crows croaked amen; and we had board and lodging for nothing.
Patty. And this is she he has brought to Barbadoes?
Trudge. The same.
Patty. Well; and tell me, Trudge;—she's pretty, you say—Is she fair or brown? or——
Trudge. Um! she's a good comely copper.
Patty. How! a tawny?
Trudge. Yes, quite dark; but very elegant; like a Wedgwood tea-pot.
Patty. Oh! the monster! the filthy fellow! Live with a black-a-moor!
Trudge. Why, there's no great harm in't, I hope?
Patty. Faugh! I wou'dn't let him kiss me for the world: he'd make my face all smutty.
Trudge. Zounds! you are mighty nice all of a sudden; but I'd have you to know, Madam Patty, that Black-a-moor ladies, as you call 'em, are some of the very few whose complexions never rub off! 'Sbud, if they did, Wows and I should have changed faces by this time—But mum; not a word for your life.
Patty. Not I! except to the Governor and family. [Aside.] But I must run—and, remember, Trudge, if your master has made a mistake here, he has himself to thank for his pains.
[Exit Patty.
Trudge. Pshaw! these girls are so plaguy proud of their white and red! but I won't be shamed out of Wows, that's flat.—
Enter Wowski.
Ah! Wows, I'm going to leave you.
Wows. For what you leave me?
Trudge. Master says I must.
Wows. Ah, but you say in your country, women know best; and I say you not leave me.
Trudge. Master, to be sure, while we were in the forest, taught Yarico to read, with his pencil and pocket-book. What then? Wows comes on fine and fast in her lessons. A little awkward at first, to be sure—Ha! ha!—She's so used to feed with her hands, that I can't get her to eat her victuals, in a genteel, christian way, for the soul of me; when she has stuck a morsel on her fork, she don't know how to guide it, but pops up her knuckles to her mouth, and the meat goes up to her ear. But, no matter—After all the fine, flashy London girls, Wowski's the wench for my money.