CCCLXXX.
HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.
Mr. H.—Steward.
Mr. H. Ha! Steward, How are you, my old boy? How
do things go on at home?
Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.
Mr. H. Poor mag! so he's gone. How came he to die?
Stew. Over-ate himself sir.
Mr. H. Did he, faith? a greedy dog; why, what did he get
he liked so well?
Stew. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh.
Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh?
Stew. All your father's horses, sir.
Mr. H. What! Are they dead, too?
Stew. Ay, sir; they died of over-work.
Mr. H. And why were they over-worked, pray?
Stew. To carry water, sir.
Mr. H. To carry water! and what were they carrying water
for?
Stew. Sure, sir, to put out the fire.
Mr. H. Fire! what fire?
Stew. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the
ground.
Mr. H. My father's house burned down! and how came it
set on fire?
Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
Mr. H. Torches! what torches?
Stew. At your mother's funeral.
Mr. H. My mother dead!
Stem. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it.
Mr. H. After what?
Stew. The loss of your father.
Mr. H. My father gone too?
Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he
heard of it.
Mr. H. Heard of what?
Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your Honor.
Mr. H. What! more miseries! more bad news?
Stew. Yes, sir, your bank has failed, and your credit is lost,
and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir,
to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to
hear the news.
Anonymous.
CCCLXXXI.
THE CHOLERIC father.
CAPT. ABSOLUTE—SIR ANTHONY
Capt. A. Sir, I am delighted to see you here and looking so well! Your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health. Sir A. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, are you recruiting here, eh? Capt. A. Yes, sir; I am on duty. Sir A. Well, Jack! I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it; for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty; and I pray fervently that you may continue so. Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my heart. Well, then, Jack, I have been considering that as I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. Capt. A Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Such generosity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensation even of filial affection. Sir A. I am glad you are so sensible of my attention; and you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks. Capt. A. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude. I cannot express the sense I have of your munificence. Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army? Sir A. O, that shall be as your wife chooses. Capt. A. My wife, sir? Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you—settle that between you. Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say? Sir A. Ay, a wife—why did I not mention her before? Capt A. Not a word of her, sir. Sir A. Upon my word, I must n't forget her, though! Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage—the fortune is saddled with a wife; but I suppose that makes no difference? Capt. A. Sir! sir, you amaze me! Sir A. What 's the matter? Just now you were all gratitude and duty. Capt. A. I was, sir; you talked to me of independence and a fortune, but not one word of a wife. Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Sir, if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. Capt. A. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady? Sir A. What 's that to you, sir? Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly. Capt. A. Sure, sir, that 's not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of! Sir A. I am sure, sir, 't is more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for all, that on this point I cannot obey you. Sir A. Hark you, Jack! I have heard you for some time with patience; I have been cool,—quite cool; but take care; you know I am compliance itself, when I am not thwarted; no one more easily led—when I have my own way; but don't put me in a frenzy. Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it; in this I cannot obey you. Sir A. Now, shoot me, if ever I call you Jack again while I live! Capt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. Sir A. Sir, U won't hear a word—not a word!—not one word!—So, give me your promise by a nod; and I 'll tell you what, Jack,—I mean, you dog,—if you don't— Capt. A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness; to— Sir A. Sir, the lady shall be as ugly as I choose; she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the crescent; her one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's Museum; she shall leave a skin like a mumps and the beard of a Jew; he shall be all this, sir! Yet, I'll make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty! Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed! Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, jackanapes! Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for mirth in my life. Sir A. 'T is false, sir! I know you are laughing in your sleeve. I know you'll grin when I am gone, sir! Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir A. None of your passion, sir! none of your violence, if, you please! It won't do with me, I promise you. Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. Sir A. I know you are in a passion in your heart; I know you are, you hypocritical young dog! But it won't do! Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word Sir A. So you will fly out! Can't you be cool like me? What good can passion do? Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate! There, you sneer again! Don't provoke me! But you rely upon the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog! You play upon the meekness of my disposition! Yet, take care; the patience of a saint may be overcome at last! But, mark: I give you six hours and a half to consider of this: if you then agree without any condition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why, I may, in time, forgive you. lf not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me; don't care to breathe the same air, or use the same light, with me; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own! I'll strip you of your commission; I'll lodge a five-and-three-pence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest! I'll disown you. I'll disinherit you! I'll never call you Jack again. [Exit.] Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father! I kiss your hand. R. B. Sheridan.