Part 13

Unc. _Rich._ Nay, I don't doubt but this wise expedition will be attended with more adventures than one.----This noble head, and supporter of his family, will, as an honest country gentleman, get credit enough amongst the tradesmen, to run so far in debt in one session, as will make him just fit for a gaol, when he's drop'd at the next election. He will make his speeches in the house to shew the government of what importance he can be to them, by which they will see, he can be of no importance at all; and he will find in time, that he stands valued at (if he votes right) being sometimes----invited to dinner. Then his wife (who has ten times more of a jade about her than he yet knows of) will so improve in this rich soil, she will, in one month, learn every vice the finest lady in the town can teach her. She will be extremely courteous to the fops who make love to her in jest, and she will be extremely grateful to those who do it in earnest. She will visit all ladies that will let her into their houses, and she will run in debt to all the shopkeepers that will let her into their books. In short, before her husband has got five pound by a speech at _Westminster_, she will have lost five hundred at cards and dice in the parish of _St. James_'s. Wife and family to _London_ with a pox!

[_Going off._

_Enter ~James~ and ~John Moody~._

_James._ Dear _John Moody_, I'm so glad to see you in London once more.

_John Moody._ And I you, my dear _James_: Give me a kiss----Why that's friendly.

_James._ I wish they had been so, _John_, that you met with when you were here before.

_John Moody._ Ah----Murrain upon all rogues and whores, I say: But I am grown so cunning now, the de'el himself can't handle me. I have made a notable bargain for these lodgings here, we are to pay but five pounds a week, and have all the house to ourselves.

_James._ Where are the people that belong to it to be then?

_John Moody._ O! there's only the gentlewoman, her two maids, and a cousin, a very pretty civil young woman truly, and the maids are the merriest griggs----

_James._ Have a care, _John_.

_John Moody._ O, fear nothing, we did so play together last night.

_James._ Hush, here comes my master.

_Enter Uncle ~Richard~._

Unc. _Rich._ What! _John_ has taken these lodgings, has he?

_James._ Yes, Sir, he has taken 'em.

Unc. _Rich._ Oh John! how dost do, honest John? I am glad to see thee with all my heart.

_John Moody._ I humbly thank your worship. I'm staut still, and a faithful awd servant to th' family. Heaven prosper aw that belong to't.

Unc. _Rich._ What, they are all upon the road?

_John Moody._ As mony as the awd coach wou'd hauld, Sir: the Lord send 'em well to tawn.

Unc. _Rich._ And well out on't again, John, ha!

_John Moody._ Ah, Sir! you are a wise man, so am I: home's home, I say. I wish we get any good here. I's sure we got little upo' the road. Some mischief or other aw the day long. Slap goes one thing, crack goes another; my Lady cries out for driving fast: The awd cattle are for going slow; _Roger_ whips, they stand still and kick; nothing but a sort of a contradiction aw the journey long. My Lady wou'd gladly have been here last night, Sir, tho' there was no lodging got; but her Ladyship said, she did naw care for that, she'd lie in the inn where the horses stood, as long as it was in London.

Unc. _Rich._ These ladies, these ladies, _John_----

_John Moody._ Ah, Sir, I have seen a little of 'em, tho' not so much as my betters. Your worship is naw married yet?

Unc. _Rich._ No, _John_ no; I am an old batchelor still.

_John Moody._ Heav'ns bless you and preserve you, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ I think you have lost your good woman, John!

_John Moody._ No, sir, that I have not; _Bridget_ sticks to me still, Sir, she was for coming to _London_ too, but, no, says I, there may be mischief enough done without you.

Unc. _Rich._ Why that was bravely spoken, _John_, and like a man.

_John Moody._ Sir, were my measter but haf the mon that I am, Gadswookers----tho' he'll speak stautly too sometimes, but then he canno hawd it; no, he canno hawd it.

_Enter Maid._

_Maid._ Mr. _Moody_, Mr. _Moody_, here's the coach come.

_John Moody._ Already? no, sure.

_Maid._ Yes, yes, it's at the door, they are getting out; my mistress is run to receive them.

_John Moody._ And so will I as in duty bound.

[_Exeunt ~John~ and maid._

Unc. _Rich._ And I will stay here, not being in duty bound to do the honours of this house.

_Enter Sir ~Francis~, Lady, 'Squire ~Humphry~, Mrs. ~Betty~, Mrs. ~Handy~, ~Doll Tripe~, ~John Moody~, and Mrs. ~Motherly~._

Lady _Head._ Do you hear, _Moody_, let all the things be first laid down here, and then carried where they'll be used.

_John Moody._ They shall, an't please your ladyship.

Lady _Head._ What, my uncle _Richard_ here to receive us! this is kind indeed: Sir, I am extremely glad to see you.

Unc. _Rich._ Niece, your servant. [_Salutes her._] I am extremely sorry to see you, in the worst place I know in the world for a good woman to grow better in. Nephew, I am your servant too; but I don't know how to bid you welcome.

Sir _Fran._ I am sorry for that, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ Nay, 'tis for your own sake: I'm not concern'd.

Sir _Fran._ I hope, uncle, I shall give you such weighty reasons for what I've done, as shall convince you I'm a prudent man.

Unc. _Rich._ That wilt thou never convince me of, whilst thou shalt live.

[_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Here, _Humphry_, come up to your uncle----Sir, this is your godson.

Squire _Humph._ Honour'd uncle and godfather; I creave leave to ask your blessing.

[_Kneels._

Unc. _Rich._ Thou art a numbscull I see already.

[Aside.

There thou hast it. [_Puts his hand on his head._] And if it will do thee any good, may it be, to make thee, at least, as wise a man as thy father.

Lady _Head._ Miss Betty, don't you see your uncle?

Unc. _Rich._ And for thee, my dear, may'st thou be, at least, as good a woman as thy mother.

Miss _Betty._ I wish I may ever be so handsome, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ Ha! Miss Pert! now that's a thought that seems to have been hatch'd in the girl on this side _Highgate_.

[_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Her tongue is a little nimble, Sir.

Lady _Head._ That's only from her country education, Sir Francis, she has been kept there too long; I therefore brought her to _London_, Sir, to learn more reserve and modesty.

Unc. _Rich._ O! the best place in the world for it. Every woman she meets, will teach her something of it. There's the good gentlewoman of the house, looks like a knowing person, ev'n she perhaps will be so good to read her a lesson, now and then, upon that subject. An arrant bawd, or I have no skill in physiognomy.

[_Aside._

Mrs. _Moth._ Alas, Sir, Miss won't stand long in need of my poor instructions; if she does, they'll be always at her service.

Lady _Head._ Very obliging, indeed, Mrs. _Motherly_.

Sir _Fran._ Very kind and civil truly; I believe we are got into a mighty good house here.

Unc. _Rich._ For good business, very probable.

[_Aside._

Well, niece, your servant for to-night; you have a great deal of affairs upon your hands here, so I won't hinder you.

Lady _Head._ I believe, Sir, I shan't have much less every day, while I stay in this town, of one sort or other.

Unc. _Rich._ Why, 'tis a town of much action indeed.

Miss _Betty._ And my mother did not come to it to be idle, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ Nor you neither, I dare say, young mistress.

Miss _Betty._ I hope not, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ Um! Miss Mettle.

[_Going, Sir Francis following him._

Where are you going, nephew?

Sir _Fran._ Only to attend you to the door, Sir.

Unc. _Rich._ Phu! no ceremony with me; you'll find I shall use none with you, or your family.

[_Exit._

Sir _Fran._ I must do as you command me, Sir.

Miss _Petty._ This uncle _Richard_, papa, seems but a crusty sort of an old fellow.

Sir _Fran._ He is a little odd, child, but you must be very civil to him, for he has a great deal of money, and nobody knows who he may give it to.

Lady _Head._ Phu, a fig for his money; you have so many projects of late about money, since you are a parliament man, we must make ourselves slaves to his testy humours, seven years, perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs; and then, he'll be just old enough to marry his maid. But pray let us take care of our things here: Are they all brought in yet?

Mrs. _Han._ Almost, my lady, there are only some of the band-boxes behind, and a few odd things.

Lady _Head._ Let 'em be fetcht in presently.

Mrs. _Han._ They are here; come bring the things in: Is there all yet?

_Serv._ All but the great basket of apples and the goose-pye.

_Enter ~Cookmaid~._

_Cook._ Ah my Lady! we're aw undone, the goose-pye's gwon.

_All._ Gone?

Sir _Fran._ The goose-pye gone? how?

_Cook._ Why, Sir, I had got it fast under my arm to bring it in, but being almost dark, up comes two of these thin starv'd _London_ rogues, one gives me a great kick o' the----here; [_Laying her hand upon her backside._] while t'other hungry varlet twitch'd the dear pye out of my hands, and away they run dawn street like two grayhounds. I cry'd out fire! but heavy _George_ and fat _Tom_ are after 'em with a vengeance; they'll sauce their jackets for 'em, I'll warrant 'em.

_Enter ~George~ with a bloody face, and ~Tom~._

So, have you catch'd 'em?

_Geo._ Catch'd 'em! the gallows catch 'em for me. I had naw run half the length of our beam, before somewhat fetch me such a wherry across the shins, that dawn came I flop o' my face all along in the channel, and thought I shou'd ne'er ha gotten up again; but _Tom_ has skawar'd after them, and cried murder as he'd been stuck.

_Tom._ Yes, and straight upo' that, swap comes somewhat across my forehead, with such a force, that dawn came I like an ox.

Squire _Humph._ So, the poor pye's quite gone then.

_Tom._ Gone, young measter, yeaten, I believe by this time. These, I suppose, are what they call sharpers in this country.

Squire _Humph._ It was a rare good pye.

_Cook._ As e'er these hands put pepper to.

Lady _Head._ Pray, Mrs. _Motherly_, do they make a practice of these things often here?

Mrs. _Moth._ Madam, they'll twitch a rump of beef out of a boiling copper: and for a silver tankard, they make no more conscience of than if it were a _Tunbridge_ sugar box.

Sir _Fran._ I wish the coach and horses, _George_, were safe got to the inn. Do you and _Roger_ take special care that nobody runs away with them, as you go thither.

_Geo._ I believe, Sir, our cattle won't yeasily be run away with to-night; but wee'st take best care we con of them, poor sauls!

[_Exit._

Sir _Fran._ Do so, pray now.

Squire _Humph._ Feather, I had rather they had run away with heavy _George_ than the goose-pye; a slice of it before supper to-night would have been pure.

Lady _Head._ This boy is always thinking of his belly.

Sir _Fran._ But, my dear, you may allow him to be a little hungry after a journey.

Lady _Head._ Pray, good Sir _Francis_, he has been constantly eating in the coach, and out of the coach, above seven hours this day. I wish my poor girl could eat a quarter as much.

Miss _Betty._ Mama, I could eat a good deal more than I do, but then I should grow fat mayhap, like him, and spoil my shape.

Lady _Head._ Mrs. _Motherly_ will you be so kind to tell them where they shall carry the things.

Mrs. _Moth._ Madam I'll do the best I can: I doubt our closets will scarce hold 'em all, but we have garrets and cellars, which, with the help of hiring a store-room, I hope may do. Sir, will you be so good to help my maids a little in carrying away the things.

[_To ~Tom~._

_Tom._ With all my heart, forsooth, if I con but see my way; but these whoresons have awmost knockt my eyen awt.

[_They carry off the things._

Mrs. _Moth._ Will your ladyship please to refresh yourself with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have pretty good.

Lady _Head._ If you please, Mrs. _Motherly_.

Squire _Humph._ Would not a good tankard of strong beer, nutmeg and sugar, do better, feather, with a toast and some cheese?

Sir _Fran._ I think it would, son: Here, _John Moody_, get us a tankard of good heavy stuff presently.

_John Moody._ Sir, here's _Norfolk Nog_ to be had next door.

Squire _Humph._ That's best of all, feather; but make haste with it, _John_.

[_Exit ~Moody~._

Lady _Head._ Well, I wonder, Sir _Francis_, you will encourage that lad to swill his guts thus with such beastly lubberly liquor; if it were _Burgundy_ or _Champain_, something might be said for't; they'd perhaps give him some wit and spirit; but such heavy, muddy stuff as this, will make him quite stupid.

Sir _Fran._ Why you know, my dear, I have drank good ale, and strong beer these thirty years, and by your permission I don't know, that I want wit.

_Miss Betty._ But I think you might have more papa, if you'd have been govern'd by my mother.

_Enter ~John Moody~ with a tankard._

Sir _Fran._ Daughter, he that is govern'd by his wife, has no wit at all.

Miss _Betty._ Then I hope I shall marry a fool, father, for I shall love to govern dearly.

Sir _Fran._ Here, _Humphry_, here's to thee.

[_Drinks._

You are too pert, child it don't do well in a young woman.

Lady _Head._ Pray, Sir _Francis_, don't snub her; she has a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you'll make her as dull as her brother there.

Squire _Humph._ Indeed Mother, I think my sister is too forward.

[_After drinking a long draught._

Miss _Betty._ You? you think I'm too forward? what have you to do to think, brother Heavy? you are too fat to think of any thing but your belly.

Lady _Head._ Well said, Miss; he's none of your master, tho' he's your elder brother.

_Enter ~George~._

_Geo._ Sir, I have no good opinion of this tawn, it's made up of mischief, I think.

Sir _Fran._ Why, what's the matter now?

_Geo._ I'se tell your worship; before we were gotten to the street-end, a great lugger-headed cart, with wheels as thick as a good brick wall, layd hawld of the coach, and has pood it aw to bits: an this be _London_, wo'd we were all weel i' th' country again.

Miss _Betty._ What have you to do, Sir, to wish us all in the country again, lubber? I hope we shan't go into the country again these seven years, Mama, let twenty coaches be pull'd to pieces.

Sir _Fran._ Hold your tongue, _Betty_. Was _Roger_ in no fault of this?

_Geo._ No, Sir, nor I neither. Are you not asham'd, says _Roger_ to the carter, to do such an unkind thing to strangers? No, says he, you bumkin. Sir, he did the thing on very purpose, and so the folks said that stood by; but they said your worship need na be concerned, for you might have a law-suit with him when you pleas'd, that wou'd not cost you above a hundred pounds, and mayhap you might get the better of him.

Sir _Fran._ I'll try what I can do with him, I'gad, I'll make such----

Squire _Humph._ Feather, have him before the parliament.

Sir _Fran._ And so I will: I'll make him know who I am. Where does he live?

_Geo._ I believe in _London_, Sir.

Sir _Fran._ What's the villain's name?

_Geo._ I think I heard somebody call him _Dick_.

Sir _Fran._ Where did he go?

_Geo._ Sir, he went home.

Sir _Fran._ Where's that?

_Geo._ By my troth I do naw knaw. I heard him say he had nothing more to do with us to-night, and so he'd go home and smoke a pipe.

Lady _Head._ Come, Sir _Francis_, don't put yourself in a heat; accidents will happen to people in travelling abroad to see the world. Eat your supper heartily, go to bed, sleep quietly, and to-morrow see if you can buy a handsome second-hand coach for the present use, bespeak a new one, and then all's easy.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter Colonel ~Courtly~._

_Col._ Who's that, _Deborah_?

_Deb._ At your service, Sir.

_Col._ What, do you keep open house here? I found the street door as wide as it could gape.

_Deb._ Sir, we are all in a bustle, we have lodgers come to-night, the house full.

_Col._ Where's your mistress?

_Deb._ Prodigious busy with her company, but I'll tell Mrs. _Martilla_ you are here, I believe she'll come to you.

[_Exit._

_Col._ That will do as well. Poor _Martilla_! she's a very good girl, and I have lov'd her a great while. I think six months it is, since like a merciless highwayman, I made her deliver all she had about her; she begg'd hard, poor thing, I'd leave her one small bauble. Had I let her keep it, I believe she had still kept me. Cou'd women but refuse their ravenous lovers that one dear destructive moment, how long might they reign over them! But for a bane to both their joys and ours, when they have indulg'd us with such favours as make us adore them, they are not able to refuse us that one, which puts an end to our devotion.

_Enter ~Martilla~._

_Col._ _Martilla_, how dost thou do, my child?

_Mart._ As well as a losing gamester can.

_Col._ Why, what have you lost?

_Mart._ I have lost you.

_Col._ How came you to lose me?

_Mart._ By losing myself.

_Col._ We can be friends still.

_Mart._ Dull ones.

_Col._ Useful ones, perhaps. Shall I help thee to a good husband?

_Mart._ Not if I were rich enough to live without one.

_Col._ I'm sorry I'm not rich enough to make thee so; but we won't talk of melancholy things. Who are these folks your aunt has got in her house?

_Mart._ One Sir _Francis Headpiece_ and his Lady, with a son and daughter.

_Col._ _Headpiece_! Cotso, I know 'em a little. I met with 'em at a race in the country two years since; a sort of blockhead, is not he?

_Mart._ So they say.

_Col._ His wife seem'd a mettlesome gentlewoman, if she had but a fair field to range in.

_Mart._ That she won't want now, for they stay in town the whole winter.

_Col._ Oh that will do to shew all her parts in.

_Enter Mrs. ~Motherly~._

How do you do, my old acquaintance?

Mrs. _Moth._ At your service, you know, always colonel.

_Col._ I hear you have got good company in the house.

Mrs. _Moth._ I hope it will prove so; he's a parliament man only, colonel, you know there's some danger in that.

_Col._ O, never fear, he'll pay his landlady, tho' he don't pay his butcher.

Mrs. _Moth._ His wife's a clever woman.

_Col._ So she is.

Mrs. _Moth._ How do you know?

_Col._ I have seen her in the country, and begin to think I'll visit her in town.

Mrs. _Moth._ You begin to look like a rogue.

_Col._ What, your wicked fancies are stirring already?

Mrs. _Moth._ Yours are, or I'm mistaken. But I'll have none of your pranks play'd upon her.

_Col._ Why, she's no girl, she can defend herself.

Mrs. _Moth._ But what if she won't?

_Col._ Why then she can blame neither you nor me.

Mrs. _Moth._ You'll never be quiet till you get my windows broke; but I must go and attend my lodgers, so good night.

_Col._ Do so, and give my service to my lady, and tell her, if she'll give me leave, I'll do myself the honour to-morrow to come and tender my services to her, as long as she stays in town. If it ben't too long.

[_Aside._

Mrs. _Moth._ I'll tell her what a devil you are, and advise her to take care of you.

[_Exit._

_Col._ Do, that will make her every time she sees me think what I'd be at. Dear _Martilla_, good night; I know you won't be my hindrance; I'll do you as good a turn some time or other. Well, I'm so glad, you don't love me too much.

_Mart._ When that's our fate, as too, too oft we prove, How bitterly we pay the past delights of love.

+ACT+ II. +SCENE+ I.

_Lord_ Loverule's _House_.

_Enter Lord ~Loverule~, and Lady ~Arabella~. He following her._

Lady _Ara._ Well, look you, my Lord, I can bear it no longer; nothing still but about my faults, my faults! an agreeable subject truly!

Lord _Love._ But, Madam, if you won't hear of your faults, how is it likely you shou'd ever mend 'em?

Lady _Ara._ Why I don't intend to mend 'em. I can't mend 'em, I have told you so an hundred times; you know I have try'd to do it, over and over, and it hurts me so, I can't bear it. Why, don't you know, my Lord, that whenever (just to please you only) I have gone about to wean myself from a fault (one of my faults I mean that I love dearly) han't it put me so out of humour, you cou'd scarce endure the house with me?

Lord _Love._ Look you, my dear, it is very true, that in weaning one's self from----

Lady _Ara._ Weaning! why ay, don't you see, that even in weaning poor children from the nurse, it's almost the death of 'em? and don't you see your true religious people when they go about to wean themselves, and have solemn days of fasting and praying, on purpose to help them, does it not so disorder them, there's no coming near 'em? are they not as cross as the devil? and then they don't do the business neither; for next day their faults are just where they were the day before.

Lord _Love._ But, Madam, can you think it a reasonable thing to be abroad till two o'clock in the morning, when you know I go to bed at eleven?

Lady _Ara._ And can you think it a wise thing (to talk your own way now) to go to bed at eleven, when you know I am likely to disturb you by coming there at three?

Lord _Love._ Well, the manner of womens living of late is insupportable, and some way or other----

Lady _Ara._ It's to be mended, I suppose--Pray, my Lord, one word of fair argument: You complain of my late hours; I of your early ones; so far we are even, you'll allow; but which gives us the best figure in the eye of the polite world? my two o'clock speaks life, activity, spirit, and vigour; your eleven has a dull, drowsy, stupid, good-for-nothing sound with it. It favours much of a mechanic, who must get to bed betimes, that he may rise early to open his shop. Faugh!

Lord _Love._ I thought to go to bed early and rise so, was ever esteem'd a right practice for all people.

Lady _Ara._ Beasts do it.

Lord _Love._ Fy, fy, Madam, fy; but 'tis not your ill hours alone disturb me; but the ill company who occasion those ill hours.

Lady _Ara._ And pray what ill company may those be?

Lord _Love._ Why, women that lose their money, and men that win it: especially when 'tis to be paid out of their husband's estate; or if that fail, and the creditor be a little pressing, the lady will, perhaps, be oblig'd to try if the gentleman instead of gold will accept of a trinket.

Lady _Ara._ My Lord, you grow scurrilous, and you'll make me hate you. I'll have you to know, I keep company with the politest people in the town, and the assemblies I frequent are full of such.

Lord _Love._ So are the churches now and then.

Lady _Ara._ My friends frequent them often, as well as the assemblies.

Lord _Love._ They wou'd do it oftener if a groom of the chamber there were allow'd to furnish cards and dice to the company.

Lady _Ara._ You'd make a woman mad.

Lord _Love._ You'd make a man a fool.

Lady _Ara._ If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that won't be in my power.

Lord _Love._ I'll try if I can prevent your making me a beggar at least.

Lady _Ara._ A beggar! Crœsus! I'm out of patience--I won't come home 'till four to-morrow morning.

Lord _Love._ I'll order the doors to be lock'd at twelve.

Lady _Ara._ Then I won't come home till to-morrow night.

Lord _Love._ Then you shall never come home again, Madam.

[_Exit._

Lady _Ara._ There he has knock'd me down: my father upon our marriage said, wives were come to that pass, he did not think it fit they shou'd be trusted with pin money, and so would not let this man settle one penny upon his poor wife, to serve her at a dead lift for separate maintenance.

_Enter ~Clarinda~._

_Clar._ Good-morrow, Madam; how do you do to-day? you seem to be in a little fluster.

Lady _Ara._ My Lord has been in one, and as I am the most complaisant poor creature in the world, I put myself into one too, purely to be suitable company to him.

_Clar._ You are prodigious good; but surely it must be mighty agreeable when a man and his wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation.