Chapter 2

_Bet_. Why, I'll tell you, sir:--to be sure I am but a servant, as a body may say--and every tub should stand upon its own bottom;--but--[_she takes hold of him familiarly, looks first about cautiously, and speaks in a low familiar tone of great secrecy._] my young master is now in the china room in close conference with Miss Constantia;--I know what they are about--but that is no business of mine--and therefore I made bold to listen a little--because you know, sir, one would be sure--before one took away any body's reputation.

_Sid_. Very true, Mrs. Betty,--very true indeed.

_Bet_. O! heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name--unless I had a good reason for it; but, sir, [_with great solemnity._] if I am in this place alive, as I listened, with my ear close to the door,--I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question--upon which I started--and trembled--nay my very conscience stirred within me so,--that I could not help peeping through the key-hole.

_Sid_. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the key-hole, Mrs. Betty?

_Bet_. It did indeed, sir:--and there I saw my young master upon his knees--lord bless us--and what do you think he was doing?--kissing her hand as if he would eat it--and protesting--and assuring her--he knew that you, sir, would consent to the match--and then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast--

_Sid._ Ay!

_Bet._ They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world.

_Sid_. I believe it, Mrs. Betty--and what did Constantia say to all this?

_Bet_. O!--O! she is sly enough; she looks as if butter would not melt in her mouth; but all is not gold that glitters; smooth water, you know, sir, runs deepest:--I am sorry my young master makes such a fool of himself-- but--um!--take my word for it, he is not the man,--for though she looks as modest as a maid at a christening--[_hesitating._] yet--ah!--when sweethearts meet--in the dusk of the evening--and stay together a whole hour--in the dark grove--and embrace--and kiss--and weep at parting,--why then you know, sir, it is easy to guess all the rest.

_Sid._ Why did Constantia meet any body in this manner?

_Bet._ [_Starting with surprise_.] O! heavens!--I beg, sir, you will not misapprehend me; for I assure you I do not believe they did any harm--that is, not in the grove--at least, not when I was there;--and she may be honestly married for aught I know.--O! lud! sir,--I would not say an ill thing of Miss Constantia for the world,--for to be sure she is a good creature:--'tis true, my lady took her in for charity, and indeed has bred her up to the music and figures;--ay, and reading all the books about Homer--and Paradise--and Gods and Devils,--and every thing in the world,-- as if she had been a dutchess: but some people are born with luck in their mouths, and then--as the saying is--you may throw them into the sea-- [_deports herself most affedtedly._] but--if I had had dancing masters-- and music masters--and French Mounseers to teach me--I believe I might have read the globes, and the maps,--and have danced,--and have been as clever as other folks.

_Sid._ Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on it, Mrs. Betty;--but you mentioned something of a dark walk,--kissing,--a sweetheart and Constantia.

_Bet._ [_Starts into a cautious hypocrisy_.] O! lud! sir--I don't know any thing of the matter: she may be very honest for aught I know: I only say, that they did meet in the dark walk,--and all the servants observe that Miss Constantia wears her stays very loose--looks very pale--is sick in a morning, and after dinner: and, as sure as my name is Betty Hint, something has happened that I won't name,--but--nine months hence--a certain person in this family may ask me to stand godmother, for I think I know what's what, when I see it as well as another.

_Sid_. No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.

_Bet_. [_Cries, turns up her eyes, and acts a most friendly hypocrisy_.] I do, indeed, sir. I am very sorry for Miss Constantia. I never thought she would have taken such courses--for in truth I love her as if she was my own sister; and though all the servants say that she is breeding--yet, for my part, I don't believe it; but--one must speak according to one's conscience, you know, sir.

_Sid_. O! I see you do.

_Bet_. [_Going and returning_.] I do indeed, sir: and so your servant, sir--but--I hope your worship won't mention my name in this business;--or that you had any _item_ from me.

_Sid_. I shall not, Mrs. Betty.

_Bet_. For, indeed, sir, I am no busybody, nor do I love fending nor proving; and, I assure you, sir, I hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping and backbiting, and taking away a person's good name.

_Sid_. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.

_Set_. I do indeed, sir. I am the farthest from it in the world.

_Sid_. I dare say you are.

_Bet_. I am indeed, sir, and so your humble servant.

_Sid_. Your servant, Mrs. Betty.

_Bet_. [_Aside, in great exultation_.] So! I see he believes every word I say,--that's charming. I'll do her business for her I am resolved. [_Exit._

_Sid_. What can this ridiculous creature mean by her dark walk,--her private spark, her kissing, and all her slanderous insinuations against Constantia, whose conduct is as unblamable as innocence itself? I see envy is as malignant in a paltry waiting wench, as in the vainest or most ambitious lady of the court.--It is always an infallible mark of the basest nature; and merit in the lowest, as well as in the highest station, must feel the shaft of envy's constant agents--falsehood and slander.

_Enter_ SAM.

_Sam_. Sir, Mr. Egerton and Miss Constantia desire to speak with you in the china room.

_Sid_. Very well, Sam. [_Exit_ Sam.] I will not see them.--What is to be done? inform his father of his intended marriage,--no--that must not be;-- for the overbearing nature and ambitious policy of Sir Pertinax would exceed all bounds of moderation; for he is of a sharp, shrewd, unforgiving nature.--He has banished one son already, only for daring to differ from his judgment concerning the merits of a Scotch and an English historian.-- But this young man must not marry Constantia.--Would his mother were here! She, I suppose, knows nothing of his indiscretion:--but she shall, the moment she comes hither. I know it will offend him; no matter: it is our duty to offend,--when that offence saves the man we love from a precipitate action, which the world must condemn, and his own heart, perhaps, upon reflection, for ever repent: yes,--I must discharge the duty of my function, and of a friend,--though I am sure to lose the man, whom I intend to serve. [_Exit._

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

_ACT II. SCENE I_.

_Enter_ CONSTANTIA _and_ EGERTON.

_Con_. Mr. Sidney is not here, sir.

_Eger_. I assure you I left him, and begged he would stay till I returned.

_Con_. His prudence, you see, sir, has made him retire; therefore we had better defer the subject till he is present; in the mean time, sir, I hope you will permit me to mention an affair that has greatly alarmed and perplexed me: I suppose you guess what it is.

_Eger_. I do not, upon my word.

_Con_. That is a little strange.--You know, sir, that you and Mr. Sidney did me the honour of breakfasting with me this morning in my little study.

_Eger_. We had that happiness, madam.

_Con_. Just after you left me, upon opening my book of accompts, which lay in the drawer of the reading desk, to my great surprise, I there found this case of jewels, containing a most elegant pair of ear-rings, a necklace of great value, and two bank bills in this pocket book, the mystery of which, sir, I presume you can explain.

_Eger_. I can.

_Con_. They were of your conveying then?

_Eger_. They were, madam.

_Con_. I assure you they startled and alarmed me.

_Eger_. I hope it was a kind alarm;--such as blushing virtue feels, when, with her hand, she gives her heart and last consent.

_Con_. It was not indeed, sir.

_Eger_. Do not say so, Constantia: come--be kind at once;--my peace and worldly bliss depend upon this moment.

_Con_. What would you have me do?

_Eger_. What love and virtue dictate.

_Con_. O! sir, experience but too severely proves, that such unequal matches as ours, never produce aught but contempt and anger in parents, censure from the world, and a long train of sorrow and repentance in the wretched parties,--which is but too often entailed upon their hapless issue.

_Eger_. But that, Constantia, can not be our case: my fortune is independent and ample,--equal to luxury and splendid folly. I have a right to choose the partner of my heart,

_Con_. But I have not, sir.--I am a dependant on my lady,--a poor, forsaken, helpless orphan--your benevolent mother found me--took me to her bosom--and there supplied my parental loss--with every tender care-- indulgent dalliance, and with all the sweet persuasion that maternal fondness, religious precept, polished manners, and hourly example could administer--she fostered me: [_weeps._] and shall I now turn viper,--and with black ingratitude sting the tender heart that thus hath cherished me? shall I seduce her house's heir, and kill her peace?--No--though I loved to the mad extreme of female fondness; though every worldly bliss that woman's vanity or man's ambition could desire, followed the indulgence of my love--and all the contempt and misery of this life, the denial of that indulgence--I would discharge my duty to my benefactress--my earthly guardian, my more than parent.

_Eger_. My dear Constantia, your prudence, your gratitude, and the cruel virtue of your self-denial, do but increase my love, my admiration, and my misery.

_Con_. Sir, I must beg you will give me leave to return these bills and jewels.

_Eger_. Pray do not mention them:--sure my kindness and esteem may be indulged so far without suspicion or reproach.--I beg you will accept of them,--nay--I insist.

_Con_. I have done, sir: my station here is to obey.--I know, sir, they are gifts of a virtuous mind--and mine shall convert them to the tenderest, and most grateful use.

_Eger_. Hark! I hear a coach:--it is my father.--Dear girl, retire and compose yourself.--I will send Sidney and my lady to you, and by their judgment we will be directed: will that satisfy you?

_Con_. I can have no will but my lady's.--With your leave I will retire; I would not see her in this confusion.

_Eger_. Dear girl, adieu! and think of love, of happiness, and the man who never can be blest without you. [_Exit_ Constantia.

_Enter_ SAM.

_Sam_. Sir Pertinax and my lady are come, sir,--and my lady desires to speak with you in her own room:--oh! here she is, sir. [_Exit._

_Enter Lady_ MACSYCOPHANT.

_Lady Mac_. [_In great confusion and distress._] Dear child, I am glad to see you: why did you not come to town yesterday to attend the levee? your father is incensed to the uttermost at your not being there.

_Eger_. [_With great warmth._] Madam, it is with extreme regret I tell you, that I can no longer be a slave to his temper, his politics, and his scheme of marrying me to this woman,--therefore you had better consent at once to my going out of the kingdom, and my taking Constantia with me, for without her I never can be happy.

_Lady Mac_. As you regard my peace, or your own character, I beg you will not be guilty of so rash a step.--You promised me you never would marry her without my consent.--I will open it to your father.--Pray, dear Charles, be ruled:--let me prevail.

_Sir_ PERTINAX. [_Without, in great anger._]

_Sir Per_. Sir, wull ye do as ye are bid--and haud your gab, you rascal.-- You are so full of gab, you scoundrel.--Take the chesnut gelding, I say, and return to town directly, and see what is become of my Lord Lumbercourt.

_Lady Mac_. Here he comes.--I will get out of his way.--But I beg, Charles, while he is in this ill humour that you will not oppose him, let him say what he will--when his passion is a little cool, I will return, and try to bring him to reason: but do not thwart him.

_Eger_. Madam, I will not. [_Exit_ Lady Mac.

_Sir Per_. [_Witbout._] Here, you Tomlins, where is my son Egerton?

_Tom_. [_Without._] In the library, sir.

_Sir Per_. [_Without._] As soon as the lawyers come, be sure bring me word, [_Enters with great haughtiness, and in anger_. EGERTON _bows two or three times most submissively low._] Weel, sir!--vary weel!--vary weel!-- are nat ye a fine spark? are nat ye a fine spark, I say?--ah! you are a-- so you wou'd not come up till the levee?

_Eger_. Sir, I beg your pardon--but--I was not very well; besides I did not think my presence there was necessary.

_Sir Per_. [_Snapping him up._] Sir, it was necessary--I tauld you it was necessary--and, sir, I must now tell you, that the whole tenor of your conduct is most offensive.

_Eger_. I am sorry you think so, sir; I am sure I do not intend to offend you.

_Sir Per_. I care not what you intend.--Sir, I tell you, you do offend. What is the meaning of this conduct, sir? neglect the levee!--'sdeath, sir, you--what is your reason, I say, for thus neglecting the levee, and disobeying my commands?

_Eger_. [_With a stifled, filial resentment._] Sir, I am not used to levees: nor do I know how to dispose of myself,--nor what to say, or do, in such a situation.

_Sir Per_. [_With a proud, angry resentment._] Zounds! sir, do you nat see what others do? gentle and simple,--temporal and spiritual,--lords, members, judges, generals, and bishops,--aw crowding, bustling, and pushing foremost intill the middle of the circle, and there waiting, watching, and striving to catch a look or a smile fra the great mon,-- which they meet--wi' an amicable reesibility of aspect--a modest cadence of body, and a conciliating co-operation of the whole mon,--which expresses an officious promptitude for his service--and indicates, that they luock upon themselves as the suppliant appendages of his power, and the enlisted Swiss of his poleetical fortune;--this, sir, is what you ought to do,--and this, sir, is what I never once omitted for these five and thraty years,--let who would be minister.

_Eger_. [_Aside._] Contemptible!

_Sir Per_. What is that you mutter, sir?

_Eger_. Only a slight reflection, sir, not relative to you.

_Sir Per_. Sir, your absenting yourself fra the levee at this juncture is suspeecious; it is looked upon as a kind of disaffection,--and aw your countrymen are highly offended at your conduct,----for, sir, they do not look upon you as a friend or a well-wisher either to Scotland or Scotchmen.

_Eger_. [_With a quick warmth._] Then, sir, they wrong me, I assure you,-- but pray, sir, in what particular can I be charged--either with coldness or offence to my country?

_Sir Per_. Why, sir, ever since your mother's uncle, Sir Stanly Egerton, left you this three thousand pounds a year, and that you have, in compliance with his will, taken up the name of Egerton, they think you are grown proud;--that you have estranged yourself fra the Macsycophants--have associated with your mother's family--with the opposeetion, and with those who do not wish well till Scotland;----besides, sir, the other day, in a conversation at dinner at your cousin Campbel M'Kenzie's, before a whole table-full of your ain relations, did not you publicly wish a total extinguishment of aw party, and of aw national distinctions whatever, relative to the three kingdoms?--[_With great anger._] And you blockhead-- was that a prudent wish before so many of your ain countrymen?--or was it a filial language to hold before me?

_Eger_. Sir, with your pardon, I cannot think it unfilial or imprudent. [_With a most patriotic warmth._] I own I do wish--most ardently wish for a total extinction of all party: particularly--that those of English, Irish, and Scotch might never more be brought into contest or competition, unless, like loving brothers, in generous emulation, for one common cause.

_Sir Per_. How, sir! do you persist? what!--would you banish aw party, and aw distinction between English, Irish, and your ain countrymen?

_Eger_. [_With great dignity of spirit._] I would, sir.

_Sir Per_. Then damn you, sir,--you are nai true Scot.--Ay, sir, you may look as angry as you will,--but again I say--you are nai true Scot.

_Eger_. Your pardon, sir, I think he is the true Scot, and the true citizen, who wishes equal justice to the merit and demerit of every subject of Great Britain; amongst whom I know but of two distinctions.

_Sir Per_. Weel sir, and what are those? what are those?

_Eger_. The knave and the honest man.

_Sir Per_. Pshaw! rideeculous.

_Eger_. And he, who makes any other--let him be of the North, or of the South--of the East, or of the West--in place, or out of place--is an enemy to the whole, and to the virtues of humanity.

_Sir Per_. Ay, sir, this is your brother's impudent doctrine--for the which, I have banished him for ever fra my presence, my heart, and my fortune.--Sir, I will have no son of mine, because truly he has been educated in an English seminary, presume, under the mask of candour, to speak against his native land, or against my principles.

_Eger_. I never did--nor do I intend it.

_Sir Per_. Sir, I do not believe you--I do not believe you.--But, sir, I know your connections and associates, and I know too, you have a saucy, lurking prejudice against your ain country:--you hate it;--yes, your mother, her family, and your brother, sir, have aw the same, dark, disaffected rankling; and, by that and their politics together, they will be the ruin of you--themselves--and of aw who connect with them.--However, nai mair of that now;--I will talk at large to you about that anon.--In the mean while, sir--notwithstanding your contempt of my advice, and your disobedience till my commands, I will convince you of my paternal attention till _your_ welfare, by my management of this voluptuary--this Lord Lumbercourt,--whose daughter you are to marry. You ken, sir, that the fellow has been my patron above these five and thraty years.,

_Eger_. True, sir.

_Sir Per_. Vary weel.--And now, sir, you see, by his prodigality, he is become my dependent; and accordingly I have made my bargain with him:--the devil a baubee he has in the world but what comes thro' these clutches-- for his whole estate, which has three implicit boroughs upon it,--mark--is now in my custody at nurse;--the which estate, on my paying off his debts, and allowing him a life rent of five thousand pounds per annum, is to be made over till me for my life, and at my death is to descend till ye and your issue.--The peerage of Lumbercourt, you ken, will follow of course.-- So, sir, you see there are three impleecit boroughs, the whole patrimony of Lumbercourt, and a peerage at one slap.--Why it is a stroke--a hit--a hit.----Zounds! sir, a mon may live a century and not make sic an a hit again.

_Eger_. It is a very advantageous bargain indeed, sir:--but what will my lord's family say to it?

_Sir Per_. Why, mon, he cares not if his family were aw at the devil so his luxury is but gratified:--only let him have his race-horse to feed his vanity--his harridan to drink drams with him, scrat his face, and burn his periwig, when she is in her maudlin hysterics,--and three or four discontented patriotic dependents to abuse the ministry, and settle the affairs of the nation, when they are aw intoxicated; and then, sir,:--the fellow has aw his wishes, and aw his wants--in this world--and the next.

_Enter_ TOMLINS.

_Tom_. Lady Rodolpha is come, sir.

_Sir Per_. And my lord?

_Tom_. Not yet, sir,--he is about a mile behind, the servants say.

_Sir Per_. Let me know the instant he arrives.

_Tom_. I shall, sir. [_Exit._

_Sir Per_. Step you out, Charles, and receive Lady Rodolpha;--and, I desire you will treat her with as much respect and gallantry as possible; for my lord has hinted that you have been very remiss as a lover.--So go, go and receive her.

_Eger_. I shall, sir.

_Sir Per_. Vary weel,--vary weel;--a guid lad: go--go and receive her as a lover should. [_Exit_ Egerton.] Hah! I must keep a devilish tight hand upon this fallow, I see,--or he will be touched with the patriotic frenzy of the times, and run counter till aw my designs.--I find he has a strong inclination to have a judgment of his ain, independent of mine, in aw political matters;--but as soon as I have finally settled the marriage writings with my lord, I will have a thorough expostulation with my gentleman, I am resolved,--and fix him unalterably in his political conduct.--Ah!--I am frighted out of my wits, lest his mother's family should seduce him to desert to their party, which would totally ruin my whole scheme, and break my heart.--A fine time of day for a blockhead to turn patriot;--when the character is exploded--marked--proscribed;--why the common people--the vary vulgar--have found out the jest, and laugh at a patriot now-a-days,---just as they do at a conjurer,--a magician,--or any other impostor in society.--

_Enter_ TOMLINS, _and Lord_ LUMBERCOURT.

_Tom_. Lord Lumbercourt.

_Lord Lum_. Sir Pertinax, I kiss your hand.

_Sir Per_. Your lordship's most devoted.

_Lord Lum_. Why, you stole a march upon me this morning;--gave me the slip, Mac;--tho' I never wanted your assistance more in my life.--I thought you would have called on me.

_Sir Per_. My dear lord, I beg ten millions of pardons for leaving town before you; but you ken that your lordship at dinner yesterday settled it that we should meet this morning at the levee.

_Lord Lum_. That I acknowledge, Mac.--I did promise to be there, I own.

_Sir Per_. You did, indeed.--And accordingly I was at the levee and waited there till every soul was gone, and, seeing you did not come, I concluded that your lordship was gone before.

_Lord Lum_. Why, to confess the truth, my dear Mac, those old sinners, Lord Freakish, General Jolly, Sir Antony Soaker, and two or three more of that set, laid hold of me last night at the opera,--and, as the General says, 'from the intelligence of my head this morning,' I believe we drank pretty deep ere we departed; ha, ha, ha!

_Sir Per_. Ha, ha, ha! nay, if you were with that party, my lord, I do not wonder at not seeing your lordship at the levee,

_Lord Lum_. The truth is, Sir Pertinax, my fellow let me sleep too long for the levee.--But I wish I had seen you before you left town--I wanted you dreadfully.

_Sir Per_. I am heartily sorry that I was not in the way:--but on what account did you want me?

_Lord Lum_. Ha, ha, ha! a cursed awkward affair.--And, ha, ha, ha! yet I cann't help laughing at it neither--tho' it vext me confoundedly.

_Sir Per_. Vext you, my lord! Zounds, I wish I had been with you:--but, for heaven's sake, my lord,--what was it, that could possibly vex your lordship?

_Lord Lum_. Why, that impudent, teasing, dunning rascal, Mahogany, my upholsterer.--You know the fellow?

_Sir Per_. Perfectly, my lord.

_Lord Lum_. The impudent scoundrel has sued me up to some damned kind of a--something or other in the law, that I think they call an execution.

_Sir Per_. The rascal!

_Lord Lum_. Upon which, sir, the fellow, by way of asking pardon--ha, ha, ha! had the modesty to wait on me two or three days ago, to inform my honour--ha, ha, ha! as he was pleased to dignify me,--that the execution was now ready to be put in force against my honour;--but that out of respect to my honour--as he had taken a great deal of my honour's money-- he would not suffer his lawyer to serve it, till he had first informed my honour, because he was not willing to affront my honour; ha, ha, ha! a son of a whore!

_SirPer_. I never heard of so impudent a dog.

_Lord Lum_. Now, my dear Mac,--ha, ha, ha! as the scoundrel's apology was so very satisfactory, and his information so very agreeable--I told him that, in honour, I thought that my honour cou'd not do less than to order his honour to be paid immediately.