Chapter 7

[Enter LORD TINSEL and the EARL OF ROCHDALE.]

_Tin_. Refuse a lord! A saucy lady this. I scarce can credit it.

_Roch_. She'll change her mind. My agent, Master Walter, is her guardian.

_Tin_. How can you keep that Hunchback in his office? He mocks you.

_Roch_. He is useful. Never heed him. My offer now do I present through him. He has the title-deeds of my estates, She'll listen to their wooing. I must have her. Not that I love her, but that all allow She's fairest of the fair.

_Tin_. Distinguished well! 'Twere most unseemly for a lord to love!-- Leave that to commoners! 'Tis vulgar--she's Betrothed, you tell me, to Sir Thomas Clifford?

_Roch_. Yes.

_Tin_. That a commoner should thwart a lord! Yet not a commoner. A baronet Is fish and flesh. Nine parts plebeian, and Patrician in the tenth. Sir Thomas Clifford! A man, they say, of brains! I abhor brains As I do tools: they're things mechanical. So far are we above our forefathers They to their brains did owe their titles, as Do lawyers, doctors. We to nothing owe them, Which makes us far the nobler.

_Roch_. Is it so?

_Tin_. Believe me. You shall profit by my training; You grow a lord apace. I saw you meet A bevy of your former friends, who fain Had shaken hands with you. You gave them fingers! You're now another man. Your house is changed-- Your table changed--your retinue--your horse-- Where once you rode a hack, you now back blood;-- Befits it, then, you also change your friends!

[Enter WILLIAMS.]

_Will_. A gentleman would see your lordship.

_Tin_. Sir! What's that?

_Will_. A gentleman would see his lordship.

_Tin_. How know you, sir, his lordship is at home? Is he at home because he goes not out? He's not at home, though there you see him, sir; Unless he certify that he's at home! Bring up the name of the gentleman, and then Your lord will know if he's at home or not.

[WILLIAMS goes out.]

Your man was porter to some merchant's door, Who never taught him better breeding Than to speak the vulgar truth! Well, sir?

[WILLIAMS having re-entered.]

_Will_. His name, So please your lordship, Markham.

_Tin_. Do you know The thing?

_Roch_. Right well! I'faith a hearty fellow, Son to a worthy tradesman, who would do Great things with little means; so entered him In the Temple. A good fellow, on my life. Nought smacking of his stock!

_Tin_. You've said enough! His lordship's not at home.

[WILLIAMS goes out.]

We do not go By hearts, but orders! Had he family-- Blood--though it only were a drop--his heart Would pass for something; lacking such desert, Were it ten times the heart it is, 'tis nought!

[Enter WILLIAMS.]

_Will_. One Master Jones hath asked to see you lordship.

_Tin_. And what was your reply to Master Jones?

_Will_. I knew not if his lordship was at home.

_Tin_. You'll do. Who's Master Jones?

_Roch_. A curate's son.

_Tin_. A curate's! Better be a yeoman's son! Was it the rector's son, he might be known, Because the rector is a rising man, And may become a bishop. He goes light, The curate ever hath a loaded back! He may be called the yeoman of the church, That sweating does his work, and drudges on, While lives the hopeful rector at his ease. How made you his acquaintance, pray?

_Roch_. We read Latin and Greek together.

_Tin_. Dropping them-- As, now that you're a lord, of course you've done-- Drop him--You'll say his lordship's not at home.

_Will_. So please your lordship, I forgot to say, One Richard Cricket likewise is below.

_Tin_. Who?--Richard Cricket! You must see him, Rochdale! A noble little fellow! A great man, sir! Not knowing whom, you would be nobody! I won five thousand pounds by him!

_Roch_. Who is he? I never heard of him.

_Tin_. What! never heard Of Richard Cricket!--never heard of him! Why, he's the jockey of Newmarket; you May win a cup by him, or else a sweepstakes. I bade him call upon you. You must see him. His lordship is at home to Richard Cricket.

_Roch_. Bid him wait in the ante-room.

[WILLIAMS goes out.]

_Tin_. The ante-room! The best room in your house! You do not know The use of Richard Cricket! Show him, sir, Into the drawing-room. Your lordship needs Must keep a racing stud, and you'll do well To make a friend of Richard Cricket. Well, sir: What's that?

[Enter WILLIAMS.]

_Will_. So please your lordship, a petition.

_Tin_. Hadst not a service 'mongst the Hottentots Ere thou camest hither, friend? Present thy lord With a petition! At mechanics' doors, At tradesmen's, shopkeepers', and merchants' only, Have such things leave to knock! Make thy lord's gate A wicket to a workhouse! Let us see it-- Subscriptions to a book of poetry! Cornelius Tense, M.A. Which means he construes Greek and Latin, works Problems in mathematics, can chop logic, And is a conjurer in philosophy, Both natural and moral.--Pshaw! a man Whom nobody, that is anybody, knows! Who, think you, follows him? Why, an M.D., An F.R.S., an F.AS., and then A D.D., Doctor of Divinity, Ushering in an LL.D., which means Doctor of Laws--their harmony, no doubt, The difference of their trades! There's nothing here But languages, and sciences, and arts. Not an iota of nobility! We cannot give our names. Take back the paper, And tell the bearer there's no answer for him:-- That is the lordly way of saying "No." But, talking of subscriptions, here is one To which your lordship may affix your name.

_Roch_. Pray, who's the object?

_Tin_. A most worthy man! A man of singular deserts; a man In serving whom your lordship will serve me,-- Signor Cantata.

_Roch_. He's a friend of yours?

_Tin_. Oh, no, I know him not! I've not that pleasure. But Lady Dangle knows him; she's his friend, He will oblige us with a set of concerts, Six concerts to the set.--The set, three guineas. Your lordship will subscribe?

_Roch_. Oh, by all means.

_Tin_. How many sets of tickets? Two at least. You'll like to take a friend? I'll set you down Six guineas to Signor Cantata's concerts, And now, my Lord, we'll to him; then we'll walk.

_Roch_. Nay, I would wait the lady's answer.

_Tin_. Wait! take an excursion to the country; let Her answer wait for you!

_Roch_. Indeed!

_Tin_. Indeed! Befits a lord nought like indifference. Say an estate should fall to you, you'd take it As it concerned more a stander by Than you. As you're a lord, be sure you ever Of that make little other men make much of; Nor do the thing they do, but the right contrary. Where the distinction else 'twixt them and you?

[They go out.]