SCENE II.
An Apartment in the House of Sir Christopher Curry.
Enter Sir Christopher and Medium.
Sir Chr. I tell you, old Medium, you are all wrong. Plague on your doubts! Inkle shall have my Narcissa. Poor fellow! I dare say he's finely chagrined at this temporary parting—Eat up with the blue devils, I warrant.
Med. Eat up by the black devils, I warrant; for I left him in hellish hungry company.
Sir Chr. Pshaw! he'll arrive with the next vessel, depend on't—besides, have not I had this in view ever since they were children? I must and will have it so, I tell you. Is not it, as it were, a marriage made above? They shall meet, I'm positive.
Med. Shall they? Then they must meet where the marriage was made; for hang me, if I think it will ever happen below.
Sir Chr. Ha!—and if that is the case—hang me, if I think you'll ever be at the celebration of it.
Med. Yet, let me tell you, Sir Christopher Curry, my character is as unsullied as a sheet of white paper.
Sir Chr. Well said, old fool's-cap! and it's as mere a blank as a sheet of white paper. You are honest, old Medium, by comparison, just as a fellow sentenced to transportation is happier than his companion condemned to the gallows—Very worthy, because you are no rogue; tender hearted, because you never go to fires and executions; and an affectionate father and husband, because you never pinch your children, or kick your wife out of bed.
Med. And that, as the world goes, is more than every man can say for himself. Yet, since you force me to speak my positive qualities—but, no matter,—you remember me in London; didn't I, as member of the Humane Society, bring a man out of the New River, who, it was afterwards found, had done me an injury?
Sir Chr. And, dam'me, if I would not kick any man into the New River that had done me an injury. There's the difference of our honesty. Oons! if you want to be an honest fellow, act from the impulse of nature. Why, you have no more gall than a pigeon.
Med. And you have as much gall as a turkey cock, and are as hot into the bargain—You're always so hasty; among the hodge-podge of your foibles, passion is always predominant.
Sir Chr. So much the better.——Foibles, quotha? foibles are foils that give additional lustre to the gems of virtue. You have not so many foils as I, perhaps.
Med. And, what's more, I don't want 'em, Sir Christopher, I thank you.
Sir Chr. Very true; for the devil a gem have you to set off with 'em.
Med. Well, well; I never mention errors; that, I flatter myself, is no disagreeable quality.—It don't become me to say you are hot.
Sir Chr. 'Sblood! but it does become you: it becomes every man, especially an Englishman, to speak the dictates of his heart.
Enter Servant.
Serv. An English vessel, sir, just arrived in the harbour.
Sir Chr. A vessel! Od's my life!——Now for the news—If it is but as I hope—Any dispatches?
Serv. This letter, sir, brought by a sailor from the quay.
[Exit.
Sir Chr. [Opening the letter] Huzza! here it is. He's safe—safe and sound at Barbadoes. [Reading]——
Sir,
My master, Mr. Inkle, is just arrived in your harbour,
Here, read, read! old Medium—
Med. [Reading.] Um'—
Your harbour;—we were taken up by an English vessel, on the 14th ulto. He only waits till I have puffed his hair, to pay his respects to you, and Miss Narcissa: In the mean time, he has ordered me to brush up this letter for your honour, from
Your humble Servant, to command,
Timothy Trudge.
Sir Chr. Hey day! Here's a style! the voyage has jumbled the fellow's brains out of their places; the water has made his head turn round. But no matter; mine turns round, too. I'll go and prepare Narcissa directly; they shall be married slap-dash, as soon as he comes from the quay. From Neptune to Hymen: from the hammock to the bridal bed—Ha! old boy!
Med. Well, well; don't flurry yourself—you're so hot!
Sir Chr. Hot! blood, ar'n't I in the West Indies? Ar'n't I governor of Barbadoes? He shall have her as soon as he sets his foot on shore. "But, plague on't, he's so slow."—She shall rise to him like Venus out of the sea. His hair puffed? He ought to have been puffing, here, out of breath, by this time.
Med. Very true; but Venus's husband is always supposed to be lame, you know, Sir Christopher.
Sir Chr. Well, now do, my good fellow, run down to the shore, and see what detains him.
[Hurrying him off.
Med. Well, well; I will, I will.
[Exit.
Sir Chr. In the mean time I'll get ready Narcissa, and all shall be concluded in a second. My heart's set upon it.—Poor fellow! after all his rumbles, and tumbles, and jumbles, and fits of despair—I shall be rejoiced to see him. I have not seen him since he was that high.—But, zounds! he's so tardy!
Enter Servant.
Serv. A strange gentleman, sir, come from the quay, desires to see you.
Sir Chr. From the quay? Od's my life!——'Tis he—'Tis Inkle! Show him up directly.
[Exit Servant.
The rogue is expeditious after all.—I'm so happy.
Enter Campley.
My dear fellow! [Shakes hands.] I'm rejoiced to see you. Welcome; welcome here, with all my soul!
Camp. This reception, Sir Christopher, is beyond my warmest wishes—Unknown to you——
Sir Chr. Aye, aye; we shall be better acquainted by and by. Well, and how, eh! tell me!—But old Medium and I have talked over your affair a hundred times a day, ever since Narcissa arrived.
Camp. You surprise me! Are you then really acquainted with the whole affair?
Sir Chr. Every tittle.
Camp. And, can you, sir, pardon what is past?—
Sir Chr. Pooh! how could you help it?
Camp. Very true—sailing in the same ship—and—But when you consider the past state of my mind——the black prospect before me.—
Sir Chr. Ha! ha! Black enough, I dare say.
Camp. The difficulty I have felt in bringing myself face to face to you.
Sir Chr. That I am convinced of—but I knew you would come the first opportunity.
Camp. Very true: yet the distance between the Governor of Barbadoes and myself. [Bowing.]
Sir Chr. Yes—a devilish way asunder.
Camp. Granted, sir: which has distressed me with the cruellest doubts as to our meeting.
Sir Chr. It was a toss up.
Camp. The old gentleman seems devilish kind.—Now to soften him. [Aside.] Perhaps, sir, in your younger days, you may have been in the same situation yourself.
Sir Chr. Who? I! 'sblood! no, never in my life.
Camp. I wish you had, with all my soul, Sir Christopher.
Sir Chr. Upon my soul, Sir, I am very much obliged to you. [Bowing.]
Camp. As what I now mention might have greater weight with you.
Sir Chr. Pooh! pr'ythee! I tell you I pitied you from the bottom of my heart.
Camp. Indeed! if, with your leave, I may still venture to mention Miss Narcissa—
Sir Chr. An impatient, sensible young dog! like me to a hair! Set your heart at rest, my boy. She's yours; yours before to-morrow morning.
Camp. Amazement! I can scarce believe my senses.
Sir Chr. Zounds! you ought to be out of your senses: but dispatch—make short work of it, ever while you live, my boy. Here she is.
Enter Narcissa and Patty.
Here girl: here's your swain.
[To Nar.
Camp. I just parted with my Narcissa, on the quay, sir.
Sir Chr. Did you! Ah, sly dog——had a meeting before you came to the old gentleman.—But here—Take him, and make much of him—and, for fear of further separations, you shall e'en be tacked together directly. What say you, girl?
Camp. Will my Narcissa consent to my happiness?
Nar. I always obey my father's commands, with pleasure, sir.
Sir Chr. Od! I'm so happy, I hardly know which way to turn; but we'll have the carriage directly; drive down to the quay; trundle old Spintext into church, and hey for matrimony!
Camp. With all my heart, Sir Christopher; the sooner the better.
Sir Christopher, Campley, Narcissa, Patty.
Sir Chr. Your Colinettes, and Arriettes,
Your Damons of the grove,
Who like fallals, and pastorals,
Waste years in love;
But modern folks know better jokes,
And, courting once begun,
To church they hop at once—and pop—
Egad, all's done!
All. In life we prance a country dance,
Where every couple stands;
Their partners set—a while curvet—
But soon join hands.
Nar. When at our feet, so trim and neat,
The powder'd lover sues,
He vows he dies, the lady sighs,
But can't refuse.
Ah! how can she unmov'd e'er see
Her swain his death incur?
If once the squire is seen expire,
He lives with her.
All. In life, &c. &c.
Patty. When John and Bet are fairly met,
John boldly tries his luck;
He steals a buss, without more fuss,
The bargain's struck.
Whilst things below are going so,
Is Betty pray to blame?
Who knows up stairs, her mistress fares
Just, just the same.
All. In life we prance, &c. &c.
[Exeunt.