ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.—Lord Hardy's Lodgings.
Enter Lord Hardy, Campley, and Trim.
Ld. H. That jade Tattleaid saw me upon the stairs, for I had not patience to keep my concealment, but must peep out to see what was become of you.
Cam. But we have advice, however, it seems, from the garrison already—this mistress of Trim's is a mighty lucky accident.
Trim. Ay, gentlemen, she has free egress and regress, and you know the French are the best-bred people in the world—she'll be assistant. But, 'faith, I have one scruple that hangs about me; and that is, look you, my lord, we servants have no masters in their absence. In a word, when I am with mademoiselle I talk of your lordship as only a particular acquaintance; that I do business indeed for you sometimes. I must needs say, cries I, that indeed my Lord Hardy is really a person I have a great honour for.
Ld. H. Pish! is that all? I understand you; your mistress does not know that you do me the honour to clean my shoes or so, upon occasion. Pr'ythee, Will, make yourself as considerable as you please.
Trim. Well, then, your lesson is this. She, out of respect to me, and understanding Mr. Campley was an intimate of my friend, my Lord Hardy, and condescending (though she is of a great house in France) to make manteaus for the improvement of the English—which gives her easy admittance—she, I say, moved by these promises,[26] has vouchsafed to bring a letter from my Lady Harriot to Mr. Campley, and came to me to bring her to him. You are to understand also that she is dressed in the latest French cut; her dress is the model of their habit, and herself of their manners. For she is—but you shall see her. [Exit.
Ld. H. This gives me some life! Cheer up, Tom—but behold the solemnity. Do you see Trim's gallantry? I shall laugh out.
Enter Trim leading in Mademoiselle.
Trim. My dear Lord Hardy, this is Mademoiselle d'Epingle, whose name you've often heard me sigh. [Lord Hardy salutes her.] Mr. Campley—Mademoiselle d'Epingle. [Campley salutes her.]
Mad. Votre servante, gentlemen, votre servante.
Cam. I protest to you I never saw anything so becoming as your dress. Shall I beg the favour you'd condescend to let Mr. Trim lead you once round the room, that I may admire the elegance of your habit? [Trim leads her round.
Ld. H. How could you ask such a thing?
Cam. Pshaw, my lord, you are a bashful English fellow. You see she is not surprised at it, but thinks me gallant in desiring it. Oh, madam! your air! the negligence, the disengagement of your manner! Oh how delicate is your noble nation! I swear there's none but the clumsy Dutch and English would oppose such polite conquerors. When shall you see an Englishwoman so dressed?
Mad. De Englise! poor barbarians; poor savages; dey know no more of de dress but to cover dere nakedness [Glides along the room]. Dey be cloded, but no dressed—But, Monsieur Terim, which Monsieur Campley?
Trim. That's honest Tom Campley.
Cam. At your service, mademoiselle.
Mad. I fear I incur de censure [Pulling out the letter, and recollecting as loth to deliver it], but Mr. Terim being your intimate friend, and I designing to honour him in de way of an husband—so—so—how do I run away in discourse—I never make promise to Mr. Terim before, and now to do it par accident——
Cam. Dear Will Trim is extremely obliging in having prevailed upon you to do a thing that the severity of your virtue, and the greatness of your quality (though a stranger in the country you now honour by your dwelling in it) would not let you otherwise condescend to——
Mad. Oh, monsieur! oh, monsieur! you speak my very thoughts. Oh! I don't know how, pardon me, to give a billet—it so look! O fie! I can no stay after it. [Drops it, runs affectedly to the other end of the room, then quite out; re-enters.] I beg ten tousand pardons for go away to mal-propos. [Curtsies as going.
Ld. H. Your servant, good madam. Mr. Trim, you know you command here. Pray, if Madam d'Epingle will honour our cottage with longer stay, wait on her in and entertain her. Pray, sir, be free.
Trim. My lord, you know your power over me; I'm all complaisance. [Leads her out.
Cam. Now to my dear epistle—
"Sir,
"There is one thing which you were too generous to touch upon in our last conversation. We have reason to fear the Widow's practices in relation to our fortunes, if you are not too quick for her. I ask Lady Sharlot whether this is not her sense to Lord Hardy. She says nothing, but lets me write on. These people always have, and will have, admittance everywhere, therefore we may hear from you.
"I am, sir,
"Your most obedient servant,
"Harriot Lovely."
My obedient servant! Thy obedience shall ever be as voluntary as now—ten thousand thousand kisses on thee, thou dear paper. Look you, my lord, what a pretty hand it is?
Ld. H. Why, Tom, thou dost not give me leave to see it. You snatch it to your mouth so, you'll stifle the poor lady.
Cam. Look you, my lord, all along the lines here went the pen; and through them white intervals her snowy fingers. Do you see, this is her name?
Ld. H. Nay, there's Lady Sharlot's name, too, in the midst of the letter. Why, you'll not be so unconscionable; you're so greedy, you'll give me one kiss sure?
Cam. Well, you shall; but you're so eager. Don't bite me, for you shan't have it in your own hands. There, there, there: Let go my hand.
Ld. H. What an exquisite pleasure there is in this foolery—but what shall we do?
Cam. I have a thought; pry'thee, my lord, call Trim.
Ld. H. Ha, Trim——
Cam. Hold, Mr. Trim. You forget his mistress is there.
Ld. H. Gra'mercy! Dear Will Trim, step in hither.
Cam. Ay, that's something——
Enter Trim.
Trim, have not I seen a young woman sometimes carry Madam d'Epingle's trinkets for her, coming from my Lady Brumpton's?
Trim. Yes, you might have seen such a one; she waits for her now.
Cam. Do you think you could not prevail for me to be dressed in that wench's clothes, and attend your mistress in her stead thither? They'll not dream we should so soon attempt again——
Trim. Yes, I'll engage it.
Cam. Then we'll trust the rest to our good genius. I'll about it instantly—Harriot Lovely——[Exit, kissing the letter.
SCENE II.—Lady Brumpton's Room.
Enter Widow and Tattleaid.
Wid. This was well done of you; be sure you take care of their young ladyships; you shall, I promise you, have a snip in the sale of 'em.
Tat. I thank your good ladyship.
Wid. Is that the porter's paper of how d'ye's?
Tat. Yes, madam, he just sent it up. His general answer is, that you're as well as can be expected in your condition, but that you see nobody.
Wid. That's right. [Reading names.] Lady Riggle, Lady Formal—Oh! that Riggle, a pert ogler, an indiscreet silly thing, who is really known by no man, yet for her carriage, justly thought common to all; and as Formal has only the appearance of virtue, so she has only the appearance of vice. What chance, I wonder, put these contradictions to each other into the same coach, as you say they called? Mrs. Frances and Mrs. Winifred Glebe—who are they?
Tat. They are the country great fortunes have been out of town this whole year; they are those whom your ladyship said upon being very well born took upon 'em to be very ill bred.
Wid. Did I say so? really I think 'twas apt enough, now I remember 'em. Lady Wrinkle—oh, that smug old woman! There's no enduring her affectation of youth, but I plague her; I always ask whether her daughter in Wiltshire has a grandchild yet or not. Lady Worthy—I can't bear her company, she has so much of that virtue in her heart which I have in my mouth only. [Aside.] Mrs. After-Day—oh that's she that was the great beauty, the mighty toast about town—that's just come out of the small-pox; she's horribly pitted they say; I long to see her and plague her with my condolence. 'Tis a pure ill-natured satisfaction to see one that was a beauty unfortunately move with the same languor and softness of behaviour that once was charming in her—to see, I say, her mortify that used to kill—ha! ha! ha! The rest are a catalogue of mere names or titles they were born to, an insipid crowd of neither good nor bad; but you are sure these other ladies suspect not in the least that I know of their coming?
Tat. No, dear madam, they are to ask for me.
Wid. I hear a coach. [Exit Tat.] I've now an exquisite pleasure in the thought of surpassing my Lady Sly, who pretends to have out-grieved the whole town for her husband. They are certainly coming.—Oh no! here, let me—thus let me sit and think.
[Widow on her couch; while she is raving as to herself, Tattleaid softly brings in the ladies.]
Wretched, disconsolate as I am! Oh welcome, welcome, dear killing anguish! Oh, that I could lie down and die in my present heaviness—but what—how? Nay, my dear, dear lord, why do you look so pale, so ghastly at me? Wottoo, wottoo, fright thy own trembling, shivering wife——
Tat. Nay, good madam, be comforted.
Wid. Thou shalt not have me. [Pushes Tat.
Tat. Nay, good madam, 'tis I, 'tis I, your ladyship's own woman—'tis I, madam, that dress you, and talk to you, and tell you all that's done in the house every day; 'tis I——
Wid. Is it, then, possible? Is it, then, possible that I am left? Speak to me not—hold me not. I'll break the listening walls with my complaints. [Looks surprised at seeing company, then severely at Tattleaid.] Ah! Tattleaid——
1st La. Nay, madam, be not angry at her, we would come in in spite of her. We are your friends and are as concerned as you——
Wid. Ah! madam, madam, madam, madam, I am an undone woman. Oh me! Alas! Alas! Oh! Oh! [All join in her notes.] I swoon—I expire. [Faints.
2nd La. Pray, Mrs. Tattleaid, bring something that is cordial to her. [Exit Tattleaid.
3rd La. Indeed, madam, you should have patience. His lordship was old. To die is but going before in a journey we must all take.
Enter Tattleaid loaded with bottles. 3rd Lady takes a bottle from her and drinks.
4th La. Lord, how my Lady Fleer drinks; I've heard, indeed, but never could believe it of her. [Drinks also.
1st La. But, madam,[27] don't you hear what the town says of the jilt Flirt the men liked so much in the Park? Hark ye—was seen with him in an Hackney-coach—and silk stockings—key-hole—his wig—on the chair——[Whispers by interruptions.
2nd La. Impudent Flirt, to be found out!
3rd La. But I speak it only to you——
4th La. Nor I but to one more——[Whispers next woman.
5th La. I can't believe it; nay, I always thought it, madam——[Whispers the Widow.
Wid. Sure, 'tis impossible! the demure, prim thing! Sure all the world's hypocrisy. Well, I thank my stars, whatsoever sufferings I have, I've none in reputation. I wonder at the men; I could never think her handsome. She has really a good shape and complexion, but no mien; and no woman has the use of her beauty without mien! Her charms are dumb, they want utterance. But whither does distraction lead me—to talk of charms?
1st La. Charms? A chit's, a girl's charms. Come, let us widows be true to ourselves, keep our countenances and our characters, and a fig for the maids—I mean for the unmarried.
2nd La. Ay, since they will set up for our knowledge, why should not we for their ignorance?
3rd La. But, madam, on Sunday morning at church I curtsied to you, and looked at a great fuss in a glaring light dress next pew. That strong masculine thing is a knight's wife, pretends to all the tenderness in the world, and would fain put the unwieldy upon us for the soft, the languid! She has of a sudden left her dairy, and sets up for a fine town-lady, calls her maid Sisly her woman, speaks to her by her surname, Mrs. Cherryfist, and her great foot-boy of nineteen, big enough for a trooper, is striped into a lace coat, now Mr. Page forsooth.
4th La. Oh! I have seen her. Well, I heartily pity some people for their wealth, they might have been unknown else! You'd die, madam, to see her and her equipage. I thought the honest fat tits, her horses, were ashamed of their finery; they dragged on as if they were still at the plough, and a great bashful-looked booby behind grasped the coach as if he held one.
5th La. Alas! some people think there's nothing but being fine to be genteel; but the high prance of the horses, and the brisk insolence of the servants in an equipage of quality, are inimitable, but to our own beasts and servants.
1st La. Now you talk of equipage, I envy this lady the beauty she'll appear in in a mourning coach, 'twill so become her complexion; I confess I myself mourned two years for no other reason. Take up that hood there; Oh! that fair face with a veil. [They take up her hoods.
Wid. Fie, fie, ladies. But I've been told, indeed, black does become—
2nd La. Well, I'll take the liberty to speak it, there's young Nutbrain has long had (I'll be sworn) a passion for this lady; but I'll tell you one thing I fear she'll dislike, that is, he's younger than she is.
3rd La. No, that's no exception; but I'll tell you one, he's younger than his brother.
Wid. Ladies, talk not of such affairs. Who could love such an unhappy relict as I am? But, dear madam, what grounds have you for that idle story?
4th La. Why he toasts you, and trembles when you're spoke of; it must be a match.
Wid. Nay, nay; you rally, you rally; but I know you mean it kindly.
1st La. I swear we do. [Tattleaid whispers the Widow.
Wid. But I must beseech you, ladies, since you have been so compassionate as to visit and accompany my sorrow, to give me the only comfort I can now know, to see my friends cheerful, and to honour an entertainment Tattleaid has prepared within for you. If I can find strength enough I'll attend you; but I wish you'd excuse me, for I've no relish of food or joy, but will try to get a bit down in my own chamber.
All. No, no, you must go with us.
1st La. There's no pleasure without you.
Wid. But, madam, I must beg of your ladyship not to be so importune to my fresh calamity, as to mention Nutbrain any more; I'm sure there's nothing in it. In love with me, quoth a'. [Is helped off. Exeunt.
Enter Mademoiselle, and Campley in women's clothes carrying her things.
Mad. I very glad us be in de ladies' antichamber; I was shamed of you. You, you, such an impudent look; besides, me wonder you were not seized by the constable, when you pushed de man into de kennel.
Cam. Why, should I have let him kissed me?
Mad. No; but if you had hit him wit fan, and say, why sure saucy-box, it been enough; beside, what you hitted de gentleman for offer kiss me?
Cam. I beg pardon, I did not know you were pleased with it.
Mad. Please, no, but me rader be kiss den you, Mr. Terim's friend, be found out. Could not you say when he kiss me, sure saucy-box dat's meat for your master? Besides, you take such strides when you walk—walk—O fie; dese littil pette tiny bits a woman steps. [Showing her step.
Cam. But prithee, mademoiselle, why have you lost your English tongue all of a sudden? Methought when the fellow called us French whores, as we came along, and said we came to starve their own people, you gave him pretty plain English; he was a dog, a rascal, you'd send him to the stocks.
Mad. Ha! ha! ha! I was in a passion and betrayed myself, but you're my lover's friend, and a man of honour, therefore know you'll do nothing to injure us. Why, Mr. Campley, you must know I can speak as good English as you, but I don't for fear of losing my customers. The English will never give a price for anything they understand. Nay, I've known some of your fools pretend to buy with good breeding, and give any rate rather than not be thought to have French enough to know what they were doing; strange and far-fetched things they only like. Don't you see how they swallow gallons of the juice of tea, while their own dock-leaves are trod under foot? But mum; my Lady Harriot.
Enter Lady Harriot.
Madam, votre servante, servante——
L. Ha. Well, mademoiselle, did you deliver my letter?
Mad. Oui.
L. Ha. Well, and how—is that it in your hand?
Mad. Oui.
L. Ha. Well then, why don't you give it me?
Mad. O fie! lady, dat be so right Englise, de Englise mind only de words of de lovers, but de words of de lovers are often lie, but de action no lie.
L. Ha. What does the thing mean? Give me my letter.
Mad. Me did not deliver your letter.
L. Ha. No?
Mad. No, me tell you, me did drop it, to see Mr. Campley how cavalier to take it up. As dese me drop it so monsieur run take it up. [They both run to take it up, Mad. takes it.
L. Ha. Will you give me my letter or not?
Mad. Oui. But dus he do. Dere de letter—very well, very well. O l'amour! You act de manner Mr. Campley—take it up better den I, do' you no see it. [They both run, Harriot gets it.
L. Ha. [Reads.]
"Madam,
"I am glad you mentioned what indeed I did not at that time think of, nor if I had, should I have known how to have spoken of. But bless me more than fortune can, by turning those fair eyes upon, madam,
"Your most faithful,
"Most obedient humble servant,
"Tho. Campley."
What does he mean? "But bless me more—by turning"—Oh, 'tis he himself [Looking about observes Cam. smile]. Oh, the hoyden, the romp, I did not think anything could add to your native confidence, but you look so very bold in that dress, and your arms will fall off, and your petticoats how they hang!
Cam. Mademoiselle, voulez vous de Salville l'eau d'Hongrie, chez Monsieur Marchand de Montpelier—Dis for your teet [Showing his trinkets], de essence, a little book French for teach de elder broders make compliments. Will you, I say, have anything that I have, will you have all I have, madam?
L. Ha. Yes, and for humour's sake, will never part with this box, while I live, ha! ha! ha!
Cam. But, Lady Harriot, we must not stand laughing; as you observe in your letter, delays are dangerous in this wicked woman's custody of you; therefore I must, madam, beseech you, and pray stay not on niceties, but be advised.
L. Ha. Mr. Campley, I have no will but yours.
Cam. Thou dear creature, but [Kisses her hand] harkee then, you must change dresses with mademoiselle, and go with me instantly.
L. Ha. What you please.
Cam. Madam d'Epingle, I must desire you to comply with a humour of gallantry of ours—you may be sure I'll have an eye over the treatment you have upon my account—only to change habits with Lady Harriot, and let her go while you stay.
Mad. Wit all my heart.[28] [Offers to undress herself.
L. Ha. What, before Mr. Campley?
Mad. Oh, oh—very Anglaise! dat is so Englise, all women of quality in France are dress and undress by a valet de chambre; de man chamber-maid help complexion better den de woman. [Apart to L. Harriot.
L. Ha. Nay, that's a secret in dress, mademoiselle, I never knew before, and am so unpolished an English woman as to resolve never to learn even to dress before my husband. Oh! Indecency! Mr. Campley, do you hear what mademoiselle says?
Mad. Oh! Hist—bagatelle.
L. Ha. Well, we'll run in and be ready in an instant. [Exeunt L. Harriot and Mademoiselle.
Cam. Well, I like her every minute better and better. What a delicate chastity she has! There's something so gross in the carriage of some wives (though they're honest too) that they lose their husbands' hearts for faults which, if they had either good nature or good breeding, they know not how to tell 'em of. But how happy am I in such a friend as Hardy, such a mistress as Harriot!
Continue Heaven, a grateful heart to bless
With faith in friendship, and in love success.