than you must part with him, or part with me, that's the ex-ex-position of the matter, sir. Honeyw. Full and explicit enough. But what's his fault, good Philip? Butler. Sir, he's given to drinking, sir, and I shall have my morals corrupted, by keeping such company. Honeyw. Ha! ha! he has such a diverting way Jarvis. O quite amusing. Butler. I find my wines a-going, sir; and liquors don't go without mouths, sir; I hate a drunkard, sir. Honeyw. Well, well, Philip, I'll hear you upon that another time, so go to bed now. Jarvis. To bed! Let him go to the devil. Butler. Begging your honour's pardon, and begging your pardon, master Jarvis, I'll not go to bed, nor to the devil neither. I have enough to do to mind my cellar. I forgot, your honour, Mr. Croaker is below. I came on purpose to tell you. Honeyw. Why didn't you show him up, blockhead? Butler. Show him up, sir? With all my heart, sir. Up or down, all's one to me. [Exit. Jarvis. Ay, we have one or other of that family in this house from morning till night. He comes on the old affair, I suppose; the match between his son, that's just returned from Paris, and Miss Richland, the young lady he's guardian to. Honeyw. Perhaps so. Mr. Croaker, knowing my friendship for the young lady, has got it into his head that I can persuade her to what I please. Jarvis. Ah! if you loved yourself but half as well as she loves you, we should soon see a marriage that would set all things to rights again. Honeyw. Love me! Sure, Jarvis, you dream. No, no; her intimacy with me never amounted to more than friendship-mere friendship. That she is the most lovely woman that ever warmed the human heart with desire, I own. But never let me harbour a thought of making her unhappy, by a connexion with one so unworthy her merits, as I am. No, Jarvis, it shall be my study to serve her, even in spite of my wishes; and to secure her happiness, though it destroys my own. Jarvis. Was ever the like? I want patience. Honeyw. Besides, Jarvis, though I could obtain Miss Richland's consent, do you think I could succeed with her guardian, or Mrs. Croaker his wife; who, though both very fine in their way, are yet a little opposite in their dispositions, you know? Jarvis. Opposite enough, Heaven knows; the very reverse of each other; she all laugh and no joke, he always complaining and never sorrowful; a fretful poor soul, that has a new distress for every hour in the four-and-twenty Honeyw. Hush, hush, he's coming up! he'll hear you. Jarvis. One whose voice is a passing-bell— Jarvis. A raven that bodes nothing but mischief; a coffin and cross bones; a bundle of rue; a sprig of deadly nightshade; a-(HONEYWOOD, stopping his mouth, at last pushes him off.) [Exit JARVIS. Honeyw. I must own, my old monitor is not entirely wrong. There is something in my friend Croaker's conversation that quite depresses me. His very mirth is an antidote to all gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect on my spirits than an undertaker's shop.-Mr. Croaker, this is such a satisfaction Enter CROAKER. Croaker. A pleasant morning to Mr. Honeywood, and many of them. How is this? You look most shockingly to-day, my dear friend. I hope this weather does not affect your spirits. To be sure, if this weather continues-I say nothing -but God send we be all better this day three months. Honeyw. I heartily concur in the wish, though, I own, not in your apprehensions. Croaker. May be not. Indeed what signifies what weather we have, in a country going to ruin like ours? Taxes rising and trade falling. Money flying out of the kingdom, and Jesuits swarming into it. I know at this time no less than a hundred and twenty-seven Jesuits between Charingcross and Temple-bar. Honeyw. The Jesuits will scarce pervert you or me, I should hope? Croaker. May be not. Indeed what signifies whom they pervert in a country that has scarce any religion to lose? I'm only afraid for our wives and daughters. Honeyw. I have no apprehensions for the ladies, I assure you. Croaker. May be not. Indeed what signifies whether they be perverted or not? The women in my time were good for something. I have seen a lady dressed from top to toe in her own manufactures formerly. But now-a-days the devil a thing of their own manufacture about them, except their faces. Honeyw. But, however these faults may be practised abroad, you don't find them at home, either with Mrs. Croaker, Olivia, or Miss Richland. Croaker. The best of them will never be canonised for a saint when she's dead. By the by, my dear friend, I don't find this match between Miss Richland and my son much relished, either by one side or t'other. Honeyw. I thought otherwise. Croaker. Ah, Mr. Honeywood, a little of your fine serious advice to the young lady might go far: I know she has a very exalted opinion of your understanding. Honeyw. But would not that be usurping an authority that more properly belongs to yourself? Croaker. My dear friend, you know but little of my authority at home. People think, indeed, because they see me come out in a morning thus, with a pleasant face, and to make my friends merry, that all's well within. But I have cares that would break a heart of stone. My wife has so encroached upon every one of my privileges, that I'm now no more than a mere lodger in my own house. Honeyw. But a little spirit exerted on your side might perhaps restore your authority. Croaker. No, though I had the spirit of a lion. I do rouse sometimes. But what then? always haggling and haggling. A man is tired of getting the better, before his wife is tired of losing the victory. Honeyw. It's a melancholy consideration indeed, that our chief comforts often produce our greatest anxieties, and that an increase of our possessions is but an inlet to new disquietudes. Croaker. Ah, my dear friend, these were the very words of poor Dick Doleful to me not a week before he made away with himself. Indeed, Mr. Honeywood, I never see you but you put me in mind of poor Dick. Ah, there was merit neglected for you! and so true a friend; we loved each other for thirty years, and yet he never asked me to lend him a single farthing. Honeyw. Pray what could induce him to commit so rash an action at last? Croaker. I don't know, some people were malicious enough to say it was keeping company with me; because we used to meet now and then, and open our hearts to each other. To be sure I loved to hear him talk, and he loved to hear me talk; poor dear Dick! He used to say, that Croaker rhymed to joker; and so we used to laugh-Poor Dick! [Going to cry. Honeyw. His fate affects me. Croaker. Ay, he grew sick of this miserable life, where we do nothing but eat and grow hungry, dress and undress, get up and lie down; while reason, that should watch like a nurse by our side, falls as fast asleep as we do. Honeyw. To say truth, if we compare that part of life which is to come, by that which we have passed, the prospect is hideous. Croaker. Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humoured and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over. Honeyw. Very true, sir; nothing can exceed the vanity of our existence, but the folly of our pursuits. We wept when we came into the world, and every day tells us why. from friendship makes me unfit to share in this good humour: I know you'll pardon me. Mrs. Croaker. I vow, he seems as melancholy as if he had taken a dose of my husband this morning. Well, if Richland here can pardon you, I must. Miss Rich. You would seem to insinuate, madam, that I have particular reasons for being disposed to refuse it. Mrs. Croaker. Whatever I insinuate, my dear, don't be so ready to wish an explanation. Miss Rich. I own I should be sorry Mr. Honeywood's long friendship and mine should be misunderstood. Honeyw. There's no answering for others, madam; but I hope you'll never find me presuming to offer more than the most delicate friendship may readily allow. Miss Rich. And, I shall be prouder of such a tribute from you, than the most passionate professions from others. Honeyw. My own sentiments, madam: friendship is a disinterested commerce between equals ; love, an abject intercourse between tyrants and slaves. Miss Rich. And, without a compliment, I know none more disinterested or more capable of friendship than Mr. Honeywood. Mrs. Croaker. And indeed I know nobody that has more friends, at least among the ladies. Miss Fruzz, Miss Odbody, and Miss Winterbottom, praise him in all companies. As for Miss Biddy Bundle, she's his professed admirer. seriously so handsome? Is she the mighty thing talked of? Honeyw. The town, madam, seldom begins to praise a lady's beauty, till she's beginning to lose it. [Smiling. Miss Rich. Indeed! an admirer! I did not know, Croaker. Ah, my dear friend, it is a perfect satis-sir, you were such a favourite there. But is she faction to be miserable with you. My son Leontine shan't lose the benefit of such fine conversation. I'll just step home for him. I am willing to show him so much seriousness in one scarce older than himself And what if I bring my last letter to the Gazetteer on the increase and progress of earthquakes? It will amuse us, I promise you. I there prove how the late earthquake is coming round to pay us another visit from London to Lisbon, from Lisbon to the Canary Islands, from the Canary islands to Palmyra, from Palmyra to Constantinople, and so from Constantinople back to London again. [Exit. Honeyw. Poor Croaker! His situation deserves the utmost pity. I shall scarce recover my spirits these three days. Sure, to live upon such terms is worse than death itself. And yet, when I consider my own situation, a broken fortune, a hopeless passion, friends in distress; the wish but not the power to serve them-(pausing and sighing.) Enter BUTLER. Mrs. Croaker. But she's resolved never to lose it, it seems; for as her natural face decays, her skill improves in making the artificial one. Well, nothing diverts me more than one of those fine old dressy things, who thinks to conceal her age by everywhere exposing her person; sticking herself up in the front of a side-box; trailing through a minuet. at Almack's; and then, in the public gardens looking for all the world like one of the painted ruins of the place. Honeyw. Every age has its admirers, ladies. While you, perhaps, are trading among the warmer climates of youth, there ought to be some to carry on a useful commerce in the frozen latitudes beyond fifty. Miss Rich. But then the mortifications they must suffer before they can be fitted out for traffic! I have seen one of them fret a whole mornButing at her hair-dresser, when all the fault was [Exit. her face. Butler. More company below, sir; Mrs. Croaker and Miss Richland; shall I show them up? they're showing up themselves. Enter MRS. CROAKER and MISS RICHLAND. Miss Rich. You're always in such spirits. Mrs. Croaker. We have just come, my dear Honeywood, from the auction. There was the old deaf dowager, as usual, bidding like a fury against herself. And then so curious in antiques! herself the most genuine piece of antiquity in the whole collection. Honeyw. Excuse me, ladies, if some uneasiness Honeyw. And yet I'll engage, has carried that face at last to a very good market. This goodnatured town, madam, has husbands, like spectacles, to fit every age, from fifteen to fourscore. Mrs. Croaker. Well, you're a dear good-natured creature. But you know you're engaged with us this morning upon a strolling party. I want to show Olivia the town, and the things; I believe I shall have business for you for the whole day. Honeyw. I am sorry, madam, I have an appoint Leont. There they go, thoughtless and happy. My dearest Olivia, what would I give to see you capable of sharing in their amusements, and as cheerful as they are! Olivia. How, my Leontine, how can I be cheerful, when I have so many terrors to oppress me? The fear of being detected by this family, and the apprehensions of a censuring world, when I must be detected Leont. The world! my love, what can it say? At worst, it can only say that, being compelled by a mercenary guardian to embrace a life you disliked, you formed a resolution of flying with the man of your choice; that you confided in his honour, and took refuge in my father's house; the only one where yours could remain without censure. Olivia. But consider, Leontine, your disobedience and my indiscretion: your being sent to France to bring home a sister; and, instead of a sister, bringing home Leont. One dearer than a thousand sisters; one that I am convinced will be equally dear to the rest of the family, when she comes to be known. Olivia. And that, I fear, will shortly be. Leont. Impossible till we ourselves think proper to make the discovery. My sister, you know, has been with her aunt, at Lyons, since she was a child; and you find every creature in the family takes you for her. Olivia. But mayn't she write? mayn't her aunt write? Leont. Her aunt scarce ever writes, and all my sister's letters are directed to me. Olivia. But won't your refusing Miss Richland, for whom you know the old gentleman intends you, create a suspicion? Leont. There, there's my master-stroke. I have resolved not to refuse her; nay, an hour hence I have consented to go with my father, to make her an offer of my heart and fortune. Olivia. Your heart and fortune! Leont. Don't be alarmed, my dearest. Can Olivia think so meanly of my honour, or my love, as to suppose I could ever hope for happiness from any but her? No, my Olivia, neither the force, nor, permit me to add, the delicacy of my passion, leave any room to suspect me. I only offer Miss Richland a heart, am convinced she will refuse; as I am confident, that, without knowing it, her affections are fixed upon Mr. Honeywood. Olivia. Mr. Honeywood! You'll excuse my apprehensions; but when your merits come to be put in the balance Leont. You view them with too much partiality. However, by making this offer, I show a seeming compliance with my father's commands; and per haps, upon her refusal, I may have his consent to choose for myself. Olivia. Well, I submit. And, yet my Leontine, I own, I shall envy her, even your pretended addresses. I consider every look, every expression of your esteem, as due only to me. This is folly, perhaps: I allow it; but it is natural to suppose, that merit which has made an impression on one's own heart, may be powerful over that of another. Leont. Don't, my life's treasure, don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter. At worst, you know, if Miss Richland should consent, or my father refuse his pardon, it can but end in a trip to Scotland; and Enter CROAKER, Croaker. Where have you been, boy? I have been seeking you. My friend Honeywood here has been saying such comfortable things. Ah! he's an example indeed. Where is he? I left him here. Leont. Sir, I believe you may see him, and hear him too, in the next room: he's preparing to go out with the ladies. Croaker. Good gracious, can I believe my eyes or my ears? I'm struck dumb with his vivacity, and stunned with the loudness of his laugh. Was there ever such a transformation? (A laugh behind the scenes; CROAKER mimics it.) Ha! ha! ha! there it goes: a plague take their balderdash; yet I could expect nothing less, when my precious wife was of the party. On my conscience, I believe she could spread a horse-laugh through the pews of a tabernacle. Leont. Since you find so many objections to a wife, sir, how can you be so earnest in recommending one to me? Croaker. I have told you, and tell you again, boy, that Miss Richland's fortune must not go out of the family; one may find comfort in the money, whatever one does in the wife. Leont. But, sir, though in obedience to your desire, I am ready to marry her; it may be possible, she has no inclination to me. Croaker. I'll tell you once for all how it stands. A good part of Miss Richland's large fortune consists in a claim upon government, which my good friend, Mr. Lofty, assures me the treasury will allow. One half of this she is to forfeit, by her father's will, in case she refuses to marry you. So if she rejects you, we seize half her fortune; if she accepts you, we seize the whole, and a fine girl into the bargain. I Leont. But, sir, if you will but listen to reasonCroaker. Come, then produce your reasons. tell you I'm fixed, determined, so now produce your reasons. When I'm determined I always listen to reason, because it can then do no harm. Leont. You have alleged that a mutual choice was the first requisite in matrimonial happiness—— Croaker. Well, and you have both of you a mutual choice. She has her choice-to marry you, or lose half her fortune; and you have your choice to marry her, or pack out of doors without any fortune at all. Leont. An only son, sir, might expect more indulgence. Croaker. An only father, sir, might expect more obedience; besides, has not your sister here, that never disobliged me in her life, as good a right as you? He's a sad dog, Livy my dear, and would take all from you. But he shan't, I tell you he shan't, for you shall have your share. Olivia. Dear sir, I wish you'd be convinced that I can never be happy in any addition to my fortune, which is taken from his. Croaker. Well, well, it's a good child; so say no more, but come with me, and we shall see something that will give us a great deal of pleasure, I promise you; old Ruggins, the currycomb maker, lying in state: I'm told he makes a very handsome corpse, and becomes his coffin prodigiously. He was an intimate friend of mine, and these are friendly things we ought to do for each other. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE, CROAKER's house. MISS RICHLAND, GARNET. Miss Rich. Olivia not his sister? Olivia not Leontine's sister? You amaze me? Garnet. No more his sister than I am; I had it all from his own servant; I can get anything from that quarter. Miss Rich. But how? Tell me again, Garnet. Garnet. Why madam, as I told you before, instead of going to Lyons to bring home his sister, who has been there with her aunt these ten years, he never went further than Paris; there he saw and fell in love with this young lady: by the by, of a prodigious family. Miss Rich. And brought her home to my guardian, as his daughter. Garnet. Yes, and daughter she will be. If he don't consent to their marriage, they talk of trying what a Scotch parson can do. Miss Rich. Well, I own they have deceived me-And so demurely as Olivia carried it too!Would you believe it, Garnet, I told her all my secrets; and yet the sly cheat concealed all this from me? Garnet. And, upon my word, madam, I don't much blame her; she was loth to trust one with her secrets, that was so very bad at keeping her own. Miss Rich. But, to add to their deceit, the young gentleman, it seems, pretends to make me serious proposals. My guardian and he are to be here presently, to open the affair in form. You know I am to lose half my fortune if I refuse him. Garnet. Yet what can you do? for being, as you are, in love with Mr. Honeywood, madam Miss Rich. How, idiot! what do you mean? In love with Mr. Honeywood! Is this to provoke me? Garnet. That is, madam, in friendship with him; I meant nothing more than friendship, as I hope to be married; nothing more. Miss Rich. Well, no more of this. As to my guardian and his son, they shall find me prepared to receive them; I'm resolved to accept their proposal with seeming pleasure, to mortify them by compliance, and so throw the refusal at last upon them. Garnet. Delicious! and that will secure your whole fortune to yourself. Well, who could have thought so innocent a face could cover so much cuteness? Leont. Excuse me, sir, if I seem to hesitate upon the point of putting to the lady so important a question. Croaker. Lord, good sir! moderate your fears; you're so plaguy shy, that one would think you had changed sexes. I tell you, we must have the half or the whole. Come, let me see with what spirit you begin. Well, why don't you? Eh? What? Well then-I must, it seems. Miss Richland, my dear, I believe you guess at our business; an affair which my son here comes to open, that nearly concerns your happiness. Miss Rich. Sir, I should be ungrateful not to be pleased with anything that comes recommended by you. Croaker. How, boy, could you desire a finer opportunity? Why don't you begin, I say? [TO LEONT. Leont. "Tis true, madam, my father, madam, has some intentions-hem-of explaining an affair -which-himself-can best explain, madam. Croaker. Yes, my dear; it comes entirely from my son; it's all a request of his own, madam. And I will permit him to make the best of it. Leont. The whole affair is only this, madam; my father has a proposal to make, which he insists none but himself shall deliver. Croaker. My mind misgives me, the fellow will never be brought on. (Aside.) In short, madam, you see before you one that loves you; one whose whole happiness is all in you. Miss Rich. I never had any doubts of your regard, sir; and I hope you can have none of my duty, Croaker. That's not the thing, my little sweeting. my love. No, no, another-guess lover than I; there he stands, madam; his very looks declare the force of his passion-Call up a look, you dogBut then, had you seen him, as I have, weeping, speaking soliloquies and blank verse, sometimes melancholy, and sometimes absent Miss Rich. I fear, sir, he's absent now; or such a declaration would have come most properly from himself. Croaker. Himself, madam! He would die before he could make such a confession; and if he had not a channel for his passion through me, it would ere now have drowned his understanding. Miss Rich. I must grant, sir, there are attractions in modest diffidence, above the force of words. A silent address is the genuine eloquence of sincerity. Croaker. Madam, he has forgot to speak any other language; silence is become his mother-tongue. Miss Rich. And it must be confessed, sir, it speaks very powerfully in his favour. And yet, I shall be thought too forward in making such a confession; shan't I, Mr. Leontine? Leont. Confusion! my reserve will undo me. But, if modesty attracts her, impudence may disgust her. I'll try. (Aside.) Don't imagine from my silence, madam, that I want a due sense of the honour and happiness intended me. My father, madam, tells me, your humble servant is not totally indifferent to you. He admires you; I adore you: and when we come together, upon my soul I believe we shall be the happiest couple in all St. James's. Miss Rich. If I could flatter myself, you thought as you speak, sir Leont. Doubt my sincerity, madam? By your dear self I swear. Ask the brave if they desire glory, ask cowards if they covet safety Croaker. Well, well, no more questions about it. Leont. Ask the sick if they long for health, ask misers if they love money, ask Croaker. Ask a fool if he can talk nonsense! What's come over the boy? What signifies asking, when there's not a soul to give you an answer? If you would ask to the purpose, ask this lady's consent to make you happy. Miss Rich. Why indeed, sir, his uncommon ardour almost compels me, forces me, to comply. And yet I'm afraid he'll despise a conquest gained with too much ease; won't you, Mr. Leontine ? Leont. Confusion! (Aside.) O, by no means, madam, by no means. And yet, madam, you talked of force. There is nothing I would avoid so much as compulsion in a thing of this kind. No, madam; I will still be generous, and leave you at liberty to refuse. Croaker. But I tell you, sir, the lady is not at liberty. It's a match. You see she says nothing. Silence gives consent. Leont. But, sir, she talked of force. Consider, sir, the cruelty of constraining her inclinations. Croaker. But I say there's no cruelty. Don't you know, blockhead, that girls have always a round-about way of saying Yes before company? So get you both gone together into the next room, and hang him that interrupts the tender explanation. Get you gone, I say; I'll not hear a word. Leont. But, sir, I must beg leave to insistCroaker. Get off, you puppy, or I'll beg leave to insist upon knocking you down. Stupid whelp! But I don't wonder; the boy takes entirely after his mother. [Exeunt Miss RICH. and LEONT, Enter MRS. CROAKER. Mrs. Croaker. Mr. Croaker, I bring you something, my dear, that I believe will make you smile. Croaker. I'll hold you a guinea of that, my dear. Mrs. Croaker. A letter; and, as I knew the hand, I ventured to open it. Croaker. And how can you expect your breaking open my letters should give me pleasure? Mrs. Croaker. Pooh, it's from your sister at Lyons, and contains good news: read it. Croaker. What a Frenchified cover is here! That sister of mine has some good qualities, but I could never teach her to fold a letter. Mrs. Croaker. Fold a fiddlestick! Read what it contains. Croaker (reading). Dear Nick, An English gentleman, of large fortune, has for some time made private, though honourable, proposals to your daughter Olivia. They love each other tenderly, and I find she has consented, without letting any of the family know, to crown his addresses. As such good offers don't come every day, your own good sense, his large fortune, and family considerations, will induce you to forgive her. Yours ever, RACHEL CROAKER, My daughter Olivia privately contracted to a man of large fortune! This is good news indeed. My heart never foretold me of this. And yet, how slily the little baggage has carried it since she came home! Not a word on't to the old ones, for the world! Yet I thought I saw something she wanted to conceal. Mrs. Croaker. Well, if they have concealed their amour, they shan't conceal their wedding; that shall be public, I'm resolved. Croaker. I tell thee, woman, the wedding is the most foolish part of the ceremony. I can never get this woman to think of the more serious part of the nuptial engagement. Mrs. Croaker. What, would you have me think of their funeral? But come, tell me, my dear, don't you owe more to me than you care to confess? Would you have ever been known to Mr. Lofty, who has undertaken Miss Richland's claim at the treasury, but for me? Who was it first made him an acquaintance at Lady Shabbaroon's rout? Who got him to promise us his interest? Is not he a back-stairs favourite, one that can do what he pleases with those that do what they please? Isn't he an acquaintance that all your groaning and lamentations could never have got us ? Croaker. He is a man of importance, I grant you; and yet, what amazes me is, that while he is giving away places to all the world, he can't get one for himself. Mrs. Croaker. That perhaps may be owing to his nicety. Great men are not easily satisfied. Enter French Servant. Servant. An expresse from Monsieur Lofty. He vil be vait upon your honours instamment. He be only giving four five instruction, read two tree memorial, call upon von ambassadeur. He vil be vid you in one tree minutes. Mrs. Croaker. You see now, my dear, what an extensive department. Well, friend, let your master know, that we are extremely honoured by this honour. Was there any thing ever in a higher style of breeding? All messages among the great are now done by express. Croaker. To be sure, no man does little things with more solemnity, or claims more respect, than he. But he's in the right on't. In our bad world, respect is given where respect is claimed. Mrs. Croaker. Never mind the world, my dear; you were never in a pleasanter place in your life. Let us now think of receiving him with proper respect: (a loud rapping at the door) and there he is, by the thundering rap. Croaker. Ay, verily, there he is; as close upon the heels of his own express, as an indorsement upon the back of a bill. Well, I'll leave you to receive him, whilst I go to chide my little Olivia for intending to steal a marriage without mine or her aunt's consent. I must seem to be angry, or she too may begin to despise my authority. [Exit. Enter Lorry, speaking to his Servant. Lofty. And if the Venetian ambassador, or that teazing creature the marquis, should call, I'm not at home. Dam'me, I'll be packhorse to none of them. My dear madam, I have just snatched a moment-And if the expresses to his grace be ready, let them be sent off; they're of importance. Madam, I ask a thousand pardons. D |