ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.
Lady Amaranth's House.
Enter Lady Amaranth and Ephraim.
Lady Am. Though thou hast settled that distressed gentleman's debt, let his sister come unto me; and remit a quarter's rent unto all my tenants.
Eph. As thou bid'st I have discharged from the pound the widow's cattle; but shall I let the lawsuit drop against the farmer's son who did shoot the pheasant?
Lady Am. Yea; but instantly turn from my service the gamekeeper's man that did kill the fawn, while it was eating from his hand. We should hate guile, though we may love venison.
Eph. I love a young doe.—[Aside.] Since the death of friend Dovehouse, who, (though one of the faithful) was an active magistrate, this part of the country is infested with covetous men, called robbers, and I have, in thy name, said unto the people, whoever apprehendeth one of these, I will reward him, yea with thirty pieces of gold. [A loud knocking without.] That beating of one brass against another at thy door, proclaimeth the approach of vanity, whose pride of heart swelleth at an empty sound. [Exit.
Lady Am. But my heart is possessed with the idea of that wandering youth, whose benevolence induced him to part with, perhaps, his all, to free the unhappy debtor. His person is amiable, his address (according to worldly modes) formed to please, to delight. But he's poor; is that a crime? Perhaps meanly born: but one good action is an illustrious pedigree. I feel I love him, and in that word are birth, fame, and riches.
Enter Jane.
Jane. Madam, my lady, an't please you—
Lady Am. Didst thou find the young man, that I may return him the money he paid for my tenant?
Jane. I found him, ma'am, and—I found him, and he talked of—what he said.
Lady Am. What did he say?
Jane. He saw me, ma'am—and call'd me Blowsabella, and said he would—I'll be hang'd, ma'am, if he didn't say he would—Now, think of that;—but if he hadn't gone to London in the stage coach—
Lady Am. Is he gone? [With emotion.]
Enter John Dory.
John. Oh, my lady, mayhap John Dory is not the man to be sent after young gentlemen that scamper from school, and run about the country play acting! Pray walk up stairs, Master Thunder: [Calls off.]
Lady Am. Hast thou brought my kinsman hither?
John. Well, I havn't then.
Jane. If you havn't, what do you make a talk about it?
John. Well, don't give me your palaver, young Miss Slip Slop.—Will you only walk up, if you please, Master Harry?
Jane. Will you walk up, if you please, Master Harry?
Lady Am. Friendship requireth, yet I am not disposed to commune with company.—[Aside.
Jane. Oh, bless me, ma'am! if it isn't—
Enter Rover, dressed.
Rover. "'Tis I, Hamlet the Dane!"—"Thus far into the bowels of the land, have we marched on."—"John, that bloody and devouring boar!"
John. He called me bull in the coach.
Jane. I don't know what brought such a bull in the coach.
Rover. This the Lady Amaranth! By Heavens, the very angel quaker!
Lady Am. [Turns.] The dear, generous youth, my cousin Harry!
John. There he's for you, my lady, and make the most of him.
Jane. Oh, how happy my lady is! he looks so charming now he's fine.
John. Harkye! she's as rich as a Spanish Indiaman; and I tell you, your father wishes you'd grapple her by the heart—court her, you mad devil. [Apart to Rover.] There's an engagement to be between these two vessels: but little Cupid's the only man that's to take minutes, so come. [To Jane.]
Jane. Ma'am, an't I to wait on you?
John. No, my lass, you're to wait on me.
Jane. Wait on this great sea-bull! lack-a-daisy! am I—am—
John. By this, Sir George is come to the inn. Without letting the younker know, I'll go bring him here, and smuggle both father and son into a joyful meeting. [Aside.]—[To Jane.] Come now, usher me down like a lady.
Jane. This way, Mr. Sailor Gentleman.
[Exeunt John and Jane.
Rover. By Heavens, a most delectable woman! [Aside.
Lady Am. Cousin, when I saw thee in the village free the sheep from the wolf, why didst not tell me then thou wert son to my uncle, Sir George?
Rover. Because, my lady, then I—did'nt know it myself—[Aside.
Lady Am. Why wouldst vex thy father, and quit thy school.
Rover. "A truant disposition, good my lady, brought me from Wirtemberg."
Lady Am. Thy father designs thee for his dangerous profession; but is thy inclination turned to the voice of trumpets, and smites of mighty slaughter?
Rover. "Why, ma'am, as for old Boreas, my dad, when the blast of war blows in his ears, he's a tyger in his fierce resentment."—But for me, "I think it a pity, so it is, that villainous saltpetre should be digg'd out of the bowels of the harmless earth, which many a good tall fellow has destroyed, with wounds and guns, and drums, Heav'n save the mark!"
Lady Am. Indeed thou art tall, my cousin, and grown of comely stature. Our families have long been separated.
Rover. They have—Since Adam, I believe—[Aside.] "Then, lady, let that sweet bud of love now ripen to a beauteous flower?"
Lady Am. Love!
Rover. "Excellent wench! perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee, and when I love thee not, chaos is come again."
Lady Am. Thou art of an happy disposition.
Rover. "If I were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy." "Let our senses dance in concert to the joyful minutes, and this, and this, the only discord make." [Embracing.
Enter Jane, with cake and wine.
Jane. Ma'am, an't please you, Mr. Zachariah bid me——
Rover. "Why, you fancy yourself Cardinal Wolsey in this family."
Jane. No, sir, I'm not Cardinal Wolsey, I'm only my lady's maid here—Jenny Gammon, at your service.
Rover. "A bowl of cream for your Catholic majesty."
Jane. Cream! No, sir, it's wine and water.
Rover. "You get no water, take the wine, great potentate."—[Gives Lady Amaranth a glass, then drinks.]
Jane. Madam, my father begs leave—
Rover. "Go, go, thou shallow Pomona."—[Puts her out.] Eh! Zounds, here's my manager.
Enter Farmer Gammon and Lamp.
F. Gam. I hope her ladyship hasn't found out 'twas I had Banks arrested. [Aside.]—Would your ladyship give leave for this here honest man and his comrades to act a few plays in the town, 'cause I've let'n my barn. 'Twill be some little help to me, my lady.
Rover. My lady, I understand these affairs. Leave me to settle 'em.
Lady Am. True; these are delusions, as a woman, I understand not. But by my cousin's advice I will abide; ask his permission.
Gam. So; I must pay my respects to the young squire. [Aside.] An't please your honour, if a poor man like me [Bows.] durst offer my humble duty.—
Rover. Canst thou bow to a vagrant. Eh, Little Hospitality?
[Farmer Gammon looks in his face, and sneaks off.
Lamp. Please your honour, if I may presume to hope you'll be graciously pleased to take our little squad under your honour's protection—
Rover. Ha!
Lady Am. What say'st thou, Henry?
Rover. Ay, where's Henry? Gadso! True, that's me. Strange I should already forget my name, and not half an hour since I was christened! [Aside.] Harkye! do you play yourself? Eh! Ha! Hem! [Vapouring.] fellow?
Lamp. Yes, sir; and sir, I have just now engaged a new actor, Mr. Rover. Such an actor!
Rover. Eh! What! you've engaged that—what's his name, Rover? If such is your best actor, you shan't have my permission. My dear madam, the worst fellow in the world. Get along out of town, or I'll have all of you, man, woman, child, stick, rag, and fiddlestick, clapt into the whirligig.
Lady Am. Good man, abide not here.
Rover. Eh! What, my friend? Now, indeed, if this new actor you brag of, this crack of your company, was any thing like a gentleman—
Lamp. [Stares.] It isn't!
Rover. It is. My good friend, if I was really the unfortunate poor strolling dog you thought me, I should tread your four boards, and crow the cock of your barn-door fowl; but as fate has ordained that I'm a gentleman, and son to Sir,—Sir,—what the devil's my father's name? [Aside.] you must be content to murder Shakspeare without making me an accomplice.
Lamp. But, my most gentle sir, I, and my treasurer, Trap, have trumpeted your fame ten miles round the country:—the bills are posted, the stage built, the candles booked, fiddles engaged; all on the tip-top of expectation. We should have to-morrow night an overflow, ay, thirty pounds. Dear, worthy sir, you wou'dn't go to ruin a whole community and their families that now depend only on the exertion of your brilliant talents.
Rover. Eh! I never was uniform but in one maxim, that is, though I do little good, to hurt nobody but myself.
Lady Am. Since thou hast promised, much as I prize my adherence to those customs in which I was brought up, thou shalt not sully thy honour by a breach of thy word. Play, if it can bring good to these people.
Rover. Shall I?
Lady Am. This falleth out well; for I have bidden all the gentry round unto my house warming, and these pleasantries may afford them a cheerful and innocent entertainment.
Rover. True, my lady; your guests ar'n't quakers though you are, and when we ask people to our house, we study to please them, not ourselves. But if we do furbish a play or two, the muses sha'n't honour that churlish fellow's barn. No; the god, that illumines the soul of genius, should never visit the iron door of inhumanity. No Gammon's barn for me!—
Lady Am. Barn! no; that gallery shall be thy theatre; and, in spite of the grave doctrines of Ephraim Smooth, my friends and I will behold and rejoice in thy pranks, my pleasant cousin.
Rover. My kind, my charming lady! Hey, brighten up, bully Lamp, carpenters, tailor, manager, distribute your box tickets for my lady's gallery.—"Come, gentle coz,"
| "The actors are at hand, and by their show |
| You shall know all |
| That you are like to know." |
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Inn.
Enter Harry, and Midge.
Harry. Though I went back to Portsmouth academy with a contrite heart, to continue my studies, yet, from my father's angry letter, I dread a woeful storm at our first meeting. I fancy the people at this inn don't recollect me; it reminds me of my pleasant friend, poor Jack Rover, I wonder where he is now.
Midge. And brings to my memory a certain stray vaguing acquaintance of mine, poor Dick Buskin.
Harry. Ha, ha, ha! Then I desire, sir, you'll turn Dick Buskin again out of your memory.
Midge. Can't, sir. The dear, good-natur'd, wicked son of a——beg your honour's pardon.
Harry. Oh, but Midge, you must, as soon as I'm dressed, step out and enquire whose house is this my father's at; I did not think he had any acquaintance in this part of the country. Sound what humour he's in, and how the land lies, before I venture in his presence. [Exeunt.
Enter Sir George Thunder, agitated, and
Landlord.
Sir Geo. I can hear nothing of these deserters; yet, by my first intelligence, they'll not venture up to London. They must still be lurking about the country. Landlord, have any suspicious persons ever put in at your house?
Land. Yes, sir; now and then.
Sir Geo. Zounds! what do you do with them?
Land. Why, sir, when a man calls for liquor that I think has no money, I make him pay beforehand.
Sir Geo. Damn your liquor, you self-interested porpoise! Chatter your own private concerns, when the public good, or fear of general calamity, should be the only compass! These fellows, that I'm in pursuit of, have run from their ships; if our navy's unmann'd, what becomes of you and your house, you dunghill cormorant?
Land. This is a very abusive sort of a gentleman; but he has a full pocket, or he wouldn't be so saucy. [Aside.] [Exit.
Sir Geo. This rascal, I believe, doesn't know I'm Sir George Thunder. Winds, still variable, blow my affairs right athwart each other.—To know what's become of my runagate son Harry,—and there my rich lady niece, pressing and squeezing up the noble plumage of our illustrious family in her little mean quaker bonnet. But I must up to town after—'Sblood, when I catch my son Harry!—Oh, here's John Dory.
Enter John Dory.
Have you taken the places in the London coach for me?
John. Hahoy! your honour, is that yourself?
Sir Geo. No, I'm beside myself—heard any thing of my son?—
John. What's o'clock?
Sir Geo. What do you talk of clocks or timepieces—All glasses, reck'ning, and log-line, are run mad with me.
John. If it's two, your son is at this moment walking with Lady Amaranth in her garden.
Sir Geo. With Lady Amaranth!
John. If half after, they're cast anchor to rest themselves amongst the posies; if three, they're got up again; if four, they're picking a bit of cramm'd fowl; and, if half after, they're picking their teeth, and cracking walnuts over a bottle of Calcavella.
Sir Geo. My son! my dear friend, where did you find him?
John. Why, I found him where he was, and I left him where he is.
Sir Geo. What, and he came to Lady Amaranth's?
John. No; but I brought him there from this house, in her ladyship's chariot. I won't tell him Master Harry went amongst the players, or he'd never forgive him. [Aside.] Oh! such a merry, civil, crazy, crack-brain! the very picture of your honour.
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! What, he's in high spirits? ha, ha, ha! the dog! [Joyfully.] But I hope he's had discretion enough to throw a little gravity over his mad humour, before his prudent cousin.
John. He threw himself on his knees before her, and that did quite as well.
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha! made love to her already! Oh, the impudent, the cunning villain! What, and may be he—[With great glee.]
John. Indeed he did give her a smack.
Sir Geo. Me; ha, ha, ha!
John. Oh, he's yours! a chip of the old block.
Sir Geo. He is! he is! ha, ha, ha!
John. Oh, he threw his arms around her as eager as I would to catch a falling decanter of Madeira.
Sir Geo. Huzza! victoria! Here will be a junction of bouncing estates! but, confound the money. John, you shall have a bowl for a jolly boat to swim in; roll in here a puncheon of rum, a hogshead of sugar, shake an orchard of oranges, and let the Landlord drain his fish-pond yonder. [Sings.] "A bumper! a bumper of good liquor," &c.
John. Then, my good master, Sir George, I'll order a bowl in, since you are in the humour for it—"We'll dance a little, and sing a little." [Singing.] [Exit.
Sir Geo. And so the wild rogue is this instant rattling up her prim ladyship. Eh, isn't this he? Left her already!
Enter Harry.
Harry. I must have forgot my cane in this room—My father! Eh! zounds!
Sir Geo. [Looks at his watch.] Just half after four! Why, Harry, you've made great haste in cracking your walnuts.
Harry. Yes; he's heard of my frolics with the players. [Aside.] Dear father, if you'll but forgive—
Sir Geo. Why, indeed, Harry, you've acted very bad.
Harry. Sir, it should be considered I was but a novice.
Sir Geo. However, I shall think of nothing now but your benefit.
Harry. Very odd, his approving of—[Aside.] I thank you, sir, but, if agreeable to you, I've done with benefits.
Sir Geo. If I wasn't the best of fathers, you might indeed hope none from me; but no matter, if you can but get the fair quaker.
Harry. Or the humours of the navy, sir?
Sir Geo. What, how dare you reflect on the humours of the navy? The navy has very good humours, or I'd never see your dog's face again, you villain! But I'm cool. What, eh, boy, a snug, easy chariot?
Harry. I'll order it. Waiter, desire my father's carriage to draw up. [Calls.
Sir Geo. Mine, you rogue! I've none here. I mean Lady Amaranth's.
Harry. Yes, sir; Lady Amaranth's chariot! [Calling.]
Sir Geo. What are you at? I mean that which you left this house in.
Harry. Chariot! sir, I left this house on foot.
Sir Geo. What, with John Dory?
Harry. No, sir, with Jack Rover.
Sir Geo. Why, John has been a rover to be sure; but now he's settled, since I've made him my valet de chambre.
Harry. Make him your valet! Why, sir, where did you meet him?
Sir Geo. Zounds! I met him on board, and I met him on shore, and the cabin, steerage, gallery, and forecastle. He sailed round the world with me.
Harry. Strange this, sir! certainly I understood he had been in the East Indies; but he never told me he even knew you; but, indeed, he knew me only by the name of Dick Buskin.
Sir Geo. Then how came he to bring you to Lady Amaranth's?
Harry. Bring me where?
Sir Geo. Answer me. Ar'n't you now come from her ladyship's.
Harry. [Stares.] Me? Not I.
Sir Geo. Ha! this is a lie of John's, to enhance his own services. Then you have not been there?
Harry. There! I don't know where you mean, sir.
Sir Geo. Yes; 'tis all a brag of John's, but I'll—
Enter John Dory.
John. The rum and sugar is ready; but as for the fish-pond—
Sir Geo. I'll kick you into it, you thirsty old grampus.
John. Will you? Then I'll make a comical roasted orange.
Sir Geo. How dare you say you brought my son to Lady Amaranth's?
John. And who says I did not?
Sir Geo. He that best should know; only Dick Buskin here.
John. Then Dick Buskin might find some other amusement than shooting off his guns here.
Sir Geo. Did you bring my son to Lady Amaranth's in her chariot?
John. And to be sure I did.
Sir Geo. There, what do you say to that?
Harry. I say it's false.
John. False! Shiver my hulk, Mr. Buskin, if you wore a lion's skin, I'd curry you for this.
[Exit, in a rage.
Sir Geo. No, no, John's honest; I see through it now. The puppy has seen her, perhaps he has the impudence not to like her, and so blows up this confusion and perplexity only to break off a marriage that I've set my heart on.
Harry. What does he mean? Sir, I'll assure you—
Sir Geo. Damn your assurance, you disobedient, ungrateful—I'll not part with you till I confront you with Lady Amaranth herself, face to face, and if I prove you've been deceiving me, I'll launch you into the wide ocean of life without rudder, compass, grog, or tobacco. [Exeunt.