SCENE II.
A Room in the Crown.
[Enter Inkle.]
Inkle. I know not what to think—I have given her distant hints of parting; but still, so strong her confidence in my affection, she prattles on without regarding me. Poor Yarico! I must not—cannot quit her. When I would speak, her look, her mere simplicity disarms me; I dare not wound such innocence. Simplicity is like a smiling babe, which, to the ruffian that would murder it, stretching its little naked, helpless arms, pleads, speechless, its own cause. And yet, Narcissa's family—
Enter Trudge.
Trudge. There he is; like a beau bespeaking a coat—doubting which colour to choose—Sir—
Inkle. What now?
Trudge. Nothing unexpected, sir:—I hope you won't be angry; but I am come to give you joy, sir!
Inkle. Joy!——of what?
Trudge. A wife, sir! a white one.—I know it will vex you, but Miss Narcissa means to make you happy, to-morrow morning.
Inkle. To-morrow!
Trudge. Yes, sir; and as I have been out of employ, in both my capacities, lately, after I have dressed your hair, I may draw up the marriage articles.
Inkle. Whence comes your intelligence, sir?
Trudge. Patty told me all that has passed in the Governor's family, on the quay, sir. Women, you know, can never keep a secret. You'll be introduced in form, with the whole island to witness it.
Inkle. So public, too!——Unlucky!
Trudge. There will be nothing but rejoicings, in compliment to the wedding, she tells me; all noise and uproar! Married people like it, they say.
Inkle. Strange! that I should be so blind to my interest, as to be the only person this distresses.
Trudge. They are talking of nothing else but the match, it seems.
Inkle. Confusion! How can I, in honour, retract?
Trudge. And the bride's merits——
Inkle. True!—A fund of merits!—I would not—but from necessity—a case so nice as this—I—would not wish to retract.
Trudge. Then they call her so handsome.
Inkle. Very true! so handsome! the whole world would laugh at me; they'd call it folly to retract.
Trudge. And then they say so much of her fortune.
Inkle. O death! it would be madness to retract. Surely, my faculties have slept, and this long parting from my Narcissa has blunted my sense of her accomplishments. 'Tis this alone makes me so weak and wavering. I'll see her immediately. [Going.]
Trudge. Stay, stay, sir; I am desired to tell you, the Governor won't open his gates to us till to-morrow morning.
Inkle. Well, be it so; it will give me time, at all events, to put my affairs in train.
Trudge. Yes; it's a short respite before execution; and if your honour was to go and comfort poor Madam Yarico——
Inkle. Damnation! Scoundrel, how dare you offer your advice?—I dread to think of her!
Trudge. I've done, sir, I've done—But I know I should blubber over Wows all night, if I thought of parting with her in the morning.
Inkle. Insolence! begone, sir!
Trudge. Lord, sir, I only——
Inkle. Get down stairs, sir, directly.
Trudge. [Going out.] Ah! you may well put your hand to your head; and a bad head it must be, to forget that Madam Yarico prevented her countrymen from peeling off the upper part of it. [Aside.]
[Exit.
Inkle. 'Sdeath, what am I about? How have I slumbered! Is it I?—I—who, in London, laughed at the younkers of the town—and, when I saw their chariots, with some fine, tempting girl, perked in the corner, come shopping to the city, would cry—Ah!—there sits ruin—there flies the Green-horn's money! then wondered with myself how men could trifle time on women; or, indeed, think of any women without fortunes. And now, forsooth, it rests with me to turn romantic puppy, and give up all for love.—Give up!—Oh, monstrous folly!—thirty thousand pounds!
Trudge. [Peeping in at the door.]
Trudge. May I come in, sir?
Inkle. What does the booby want?
Trudge. Sir, your uncle wants to see you.
Inkle. Mr. Medium! show him up directly.
[Exit Trudge.
He must not know of this. To-morrow! I wish this marriage were more distant, that I might break it to her by degrees: she'd take my purpose better, were it less suddenly delivered.
Enter Medium.
Med. Ah! here he is! Give me your hand, nephew! welcome, welcome to Barbadoes, with all my heart.
Inkle. I am glad to meet you here, uncle!
Med. That you are, that you are, I'm sure. Lord! Lord! when we parted last, how I wished we were in a room together, if it were but the black hole! I have not been able to sleep o'nights for thinking of you. I've laid awake, and fancied I saw you sleeping your last, with your head in the lion's mouth, for a night-cap! and I've never seen a bear brought over to dance about the street, but I thought you might be bobbing up and down in its belly.
Inkle. I am very much obliged to you.
Med. Aye, aye, I am happy enough to find you safe and sound, I promise you. But, you have a fine prospect before you now, young man. I am come to take you with me to Sir Christopher, who is impatient to see you.
Inkle. To-morrow, I hear, he expects me.
Med. To-morrow! directly—this moment—in half a second.—I left him standing on tip-toe, as he calls it, to embrace you; and he's standing on tiptoe now in the great parlour, and there he'll stand till you come to him.
Inkle. Is he so hasty?
Med. Hasty! he's all pepper—and wonders you are not with him, before it's possible to get at him. Hasty, indeed! Why, he vows you shall have his daughter this very night.
Inkle. What a situation!
Med. Why, it's hardly fair just after a voyage. But come, bustle, bustle, he'll think you neglect him. He's rare and touchy, I can tell you; and if he once takes it into his head that you show the least slight to his daughter, it would knock up all your schemes in a minute.
Inkle. Confusion! If he should hear of Yarico! [Aside.]
Med. But at present you are all and all with him; he has been telling me his intentions these six weeks; you'll be a fine warm husband, I promise you.
Inkle. This cursed connexion! [Aside.]
Med. It is not for me, though, to tell you how to play your cards; you are a prudent young man, and can make calculations in a wood.
Inkle. Fool! fool! fool! [Aside.]
Med. Why, what the devil is the matter with you?
Inkle. It must be done effectually, or all is lost; mere parting would not conceal it. [Aside.]
Med. Ah! now he's got to his damn'd square root again, I suppose, and Old Nick would not move him.—Why, nephew!
Inkle. The planter that I spoke with cannot be arrived—but time is precious—the first I meet—common prudence now demands it. I'm fixed, I'll part with her. [Aside.]
[Exit.
Med. Damn me, but he's mad! The woods have turned the poor boy's brains; he's scalped, and gone crazy! Hoho! Inkle! Nephew! Gad, I'll spoil your arithmetic, I warrant me.
[Exit.