Chapter 2

SCENE.--_A Public Room in an Inn--Landlord, Waiters, Gentlemen, &c.

Enter Mr. H._

MR. H. Landlord, has the man brought home my boots?

LANDLORD Yes, Sir.

MR. H. You have paid him?

LANDLORD There is the receipt, Sir, only not quite filled up, no name, only blank--"Blank, Dr. to Zekiel Spanish for one pair of best hessians." Now, Sir, he wishes to know what name he shall put in, who he shall say "Dr."

MR. H. Why, Mr. H. to be sure.

LANDLORD So I told him, Sir; but Zekiel has some qualms about it. He says, he thinks that Mr. H. only would not stand good in law.

MR. H. Rot his impertinence, bid him put in Nebuchadnezzar, and not trouble me with his scruples.

LANDLORD I shall, Sir. [_Exit_.]

_Enter a Waiter_.

WAITER Sir, Squire Level's man is below, with a hare and a brace of pheasants for Mr. H.

MR. H. Give the man half-a-crown, and bid him return my best respects to his master. Presents it seems will find me out, with any name, or no name.

_Enter Second Waiter_.

SECOND WAITER Sir, the man that makes up the Directory is at the door.

MR. H. Give him a shilling, that is what these fellows come for.

SECOND WAITER He has sent up to know by what name your Honour will please to be inserted.

MR. H. Zounds, fellow, I give him a shilling for leaving out my name, not for putting it in. This is one of the plaguy comforts of going anonymous.

[_Exit Second Waiter_.]

_Enter Third Waiter_.

THIRD WAITER Two letters for Mr. H. [_Exit_.]

MR. H. From ladies (_opens them_). This from Melesinda, to remind me of the morning call I promised; the pretty creature positively languishes to be made Mrs. H. I believe I must indulge her (_affectedly_). This from her cousin, to bespeak me to some party, I suppose (_opening it_)--Oh, "this evening"--"Tea and cards"--(_surveying himself with complacency_). Dear H., thou art certainly a pretty fellow. I wonder what makes thee such a favourite among the ladies: I wish it may not be owing to the concealment of thy unfortunate--pshaw!

_Enter Fourth Waiter_.

FOURTH WAITER Sir, one Mr. Printagain is enquiring for you.

MR. H. Oh, I remember, the poet; he is publishing by subscription. Give him a guinea, and tell him he may put me down.

FOURTH WAITER What name shall I tell him, Sir?

MR. H. Zounds, he is a poet; let him fancy a name.

[_Exit Fourth Waiter_.]

_Enter Fifth Waiter_.

FIFTH WAITER Sir, Bartlemy the lame beggar, that you sent a private donation to last Monday, has by some accident discovered his benefactor, and is at the door waiting to return thanks.

MR. H. Oh, poor fellow, who could put it into his head? Now I shall be teazed by all his tribe, when once this is known. Well, tell him I am glad I could be of any service to him, and send him away.

FIFTH WAITER I would have done so, Sir; but the object of his call now, he says, is only to know who he is obliged to.

MR. H. Why, me.

FIFTH WAITER Yes, Sir.

MR. H. Me, me, me, who else, to be sure?

FIFTH WAITER Yes, Sir; but he is anxious to know the name of his benefactor.

MR. H. Here is a pampered rogue of a beggar, that cannot be obliged to a gentleman in the way of his profession, but he must know the name, birth, parentage, and education of his benefactor. I warrant you, next he will require a certificate of one's good behaviour, and a magistrate's licence in one's pocket, lawfully empowering so and so to--give an alms. Any thing more? FIFTH WAITER

Yes, Sir: here has been Mr. Patriot, with the county petition to sign; and Mr. Failtime, that owes so much money, has sent to remind you of your promise to bail him.

MR. H. Neither of which I can do, while I have no name. Here is more of the plaguy comforts of going anonymous, that one can neither serve one's friend nor one's country. Damn it, a man had better be without a nose, than without a name. I will not live long in this mutilated, dismembered state; I will to Melesinda this instant, and try to forget these vexations. Melesinda! there is music in the name; but then, hang it, there is none in mine to answer to it. [_Exit_.]

(_While Mr. H. has been speaking, two Gentlemen have been observing him curiously._)

FIRST GENTLEMAN Who the devil is this extraordinary personage?

SECOND GENTLEMAN Who? why 'tis Mr. H.

FIRST GENTLEMAN Has he no more name?

SECOND GENTLEMAN None that has yet transpired. No more! why that single letter has been enough to inflame the imaginations of all the ladies in Bath. He has been here but a fortnight, and is already received into all the first families.

FIRST GENTLEMAN Wonderful! yet nobody knows who he is, or where he comes from!

SECOND GENTLEMAN He is vastly rich, gives away money as if he had infinity; dresses well, as you see; and for address, the mothers are all dying for fear the daughters should get him; and for the daughters, he may command them as absolutely as--. Melesinda, the rich heiress, 'tis thought, will carry him.

FIRST GENTLEMAN And is it possible that a mere anonymous--

SECOND GENTLEMAN Phoo! that is the charm, Who is he? and What is he? and What is his name?--The man with the great nose on his face never excited more of the gaping passion of wonderment in the dames of Strasburg, than this new-comer with the single letter to his name, has lighted up among the wives and maids of Bath; his simply having lodgings here, draws more visitors to the house than an election. Come with me to the parade, and I will shew you more of him. [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE.--_In the Street_.

(MR. H. _walking_, BELVIL _meeting him_.)

BELVIL My old Jamaica school-fellow, that I have not seen for so many years? it must, it can be no other than Jack (_going up to him_). My dear Ho----

MR. H. (_Stopping his mouth._) Ho----! the devil, hush.

BELVIL Why sure it is--

MR. H. It is, it is your old friend Jack, that shall be nameless.

BELVIL My dear Ho----

MR. H. (_Stopping him_.) Don't name it.

BELVIL Name what?

MR. H. My curst, unfortunate name. I have reasons to conceal it for a time.

BELVIL I understand you--Creditors, Jack?

MR. H. No, I assure you.

BELVIL Snapp'd up a ward, peradventure, and the whole Chancery at your heels?

MR. H. I don't use to travel with such cumbersome luggage.

BELVIL You ha'n't taken a purse?

MR. H. To relieve you at once from all disgraceful conjectures, you must know, 'tis nothing but the sound of my name.

BELVIL Ridiculous! 'tis true your's is none of the most romantic, but what can that signify in a man?

MR. H. You must understand that I am in some credit with the ladies.

BELVIL With the ladies!

MR. H. And truly I think not without some pretensions. My fortune--

BELVIL Sufficiently splendid, if I may judge from your appearance.

MR. H. My figure--

BELVIL Airy, gay, and imposing.

MR. H. My parts--

BELVIL Bright.

MR. H. My conversation--

BELVIL Equally remote from flippancy and taciturnity.

MR. H. But then my name--damn my name.

BELVIL Childish!

MR. H. Not so. Oh, Belvil, you are blest with one which sighing virgins may repeat without a blush, and for it change the paternal. But what virgin of any delicacy (and I require some in a wife) would endure to be called Mrs.----?

BELVIL Ha! ha! ha! most absurd. Did not Clementina Falconbridge, the romantic Clementina Falconbridge, fancy Tommy Potts? and Rosabella Sweetlips sacrifice her mellifluous appellative to Jack Deady? Matilda her cousin married a Gubbins, and her sister Amelia a Clutterbuck.

MR. H. Potts is tolerable, Deady is sufferable, Gubbins is bearable, and Clutterbuck is endurable, but Ho--

BELVIL Hush, Jack, don't betray yourself. But you are really ashamed of the family name?

MR. H. Aye, and of my father that begot me, and my father's father, and all their forefathers that have borne it since the conquest.

BELVIL But how do you know the women are so squeamish?

MR. H. I have tried them. I tell you there is neither maiden of sixteen nor widow of sixty but would turn up their noses at it. I have been refused by nineteen virgins, twenty-nine relicts, and two old maids.

BELVIL That was hard indeed, Jack.

MR. H. Parsons have stuck at publishing the banns, because they averred it was a heathenish name; parents have lingered their consent, because they suspected it was a fictitious name; and rivals have declined my challenges, because they pretended it was an ungentlemanly name.

BELVIL Ha, ha, ha, but what course do you mean to pursue?

MR. H. To engage the affections of some generous girl, who will be content to take me as Mr. H.

BELVIL Mr. H.?

MR. H. Yes, that is the name I go by here; you know one likes to be as near the truth as possible.

BELVIL Certainly. But what then? to get her to consent--

MR. H. To accompany me to the altar without a name--in short to suspend her curiosity (that is all) till the moment the priest shall pronounce the irrevocable charm, which makes two names one.

BELVIL And that name--and then she must be pleased, ha, Jack?

MR. H. Exactly such a girl it has been my fortune to meet with, heark'e (_whispers_)--(_musing_) yet hang it, 'tis cruel to betray her confidence.

BELVIL But the family name, Jack?

MR. H. As you say, the family name must be perpetuated.

BELVIL Though it be but a homely one.

MR. H. True, but come, I will shew you the house where dwells this credulous melting fair.

BELVIL Ha, ha, my old friend dwindled down to one letter. [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE.--_An Apartment in_ MELESINDA'S _House_.

MELESINDA _sola, as if musing_.

MELESINDA H.H.H. Sure it must be something precious by its being concealed. It can't be Homer, that is a Heathen's name; nor Horatio, that is no surname; what if it be Hamlet? the Lord Hamlet--pretty, and I his poor distracted Ophelia! No, 'tis none of these; 'tis Harcourt or Hargrave, or some such sounding name, or Howard, high born Howard, that would do; may be it is Harley, methinks my H. resembles Harley, the feeling Harley. But I hear him, and from his own lips I will once for ever be resolved.

_Enter_ MR. H.

MR. H. My dear Melesinda.

MELESINDA My dear H. that is all you give me power to swear allegiance to,--to be enamoured of inarticulate sounds, and call with sighs upon an empty letter. But I will know.

MR. H. My dear Melesinda, press me no more for the disclosure of that, which in the face of day so soon must be revealed. Call it whim, humour, caprice, in me. Suppose I have sworn an oath, never, till the ceremony of our marriage is over, to disclose my true name.

MELESINDA Oh! H.H.H. I cherish here a fire of restless curiosity which consumes me. 'Tis appetite, passion, call it whim, caprice, in me. Suppose I have sworn I must and will know it this very night.

MR. H. Ungenerous Melesinda! I implore you to give me this one proof of your confidence. The holy vow once past, your H. shall not have a secret to withhold.

MELESINDA My H. has overcome: his Melesinda shall pine away and die, before she dare express a saucy inclination; but what shall I call you till we are married?

MR. H. Call me? call me any thing, call me Love, Love! aye, Love, Love will do very well.

MELESINDA How many syllables is it, Love?

MR. H. How many? ud, that is coming to the question with a vengeance. One, two, three, four,--what does it signify how many syllables?

MELESINDA How many syllables, Love?

MR. H.

My Melesinda's mind, I had hoped, was superior to this childish curiosity.

MELESINDA How many letters are there in it?

[_Exit_ MR. H. _followed by_ MELESINDA _repeating the question_.]

SCENE.--_A Room in the Inn. (Two Waiters disputing._)

FIRST WAITER Sir Harbottle Hammond, you may depend upon it.

SECOND WAITER Sir Hardy Hardcastle, I tell you.

FIRST WAITER The Hammonds of Huntingdonshire.

SECOND WAITER The Hardcastles of Hertfordshire.

FIRST WAITER The Hammonds.

SECOND WAITER Don't tell me: does not Hardcastle begin with an H?

FIRST WAITER So does Hammond for that matter.

SECOND WAITER Faith, so it does if you go to spell it. I did not think of that. I begin to be of your opinion; he is certainly a Hammond.

FIRST WAITER Here comes Susan Chambermaid, may be she can tell.

_Enter Susan_.

BOTH Well, Susan, have you heard any thing who the strange gentleman is?

SUSAN Haven't you heard? it's all come out; Mrs. Guesswell, the parson's widow, has been here about it. I overheard her talking in confidence to Mrs. Setter and Mrs. Pointer, and she says, they were holding a sort of _cummitty_ about it.

BOTH What? What?

SUSAN There can't be a doubt of it, she says, what from hisfigger and the appearance he cuts, and his _sumpshous_ way of living, and above all from the remarkable circumstance that his surname should begin with an H., that he must be--

BOTH Well, well--

SUSAN Neither more nor less than the Prince.

BOTH Prince!

SUSAN The Prince of Hessy-Cassel in disguise.

BOTH Very likely, very likely.

SUSAN Oh, there can't be a doubt on it. Mrs. Guesswell says she knows it.

FIRST WAITER Now if we could be sure that the Prince of Hessy what-do-you-call-him was in England on his travels.

SECOND WAITER Get a newspaper. Look in the newspapers.

SUSAN Fiddle of the newspapers, who else can it be?

BOTH That is very true (_gravely_).

_Enter Landlord_.

LANDLORD Here, Susan, James, Philip, where are you all? The London coach is come in, and there is Mr. Fillaside, the fat passenger, has been bawling for somebody to help him off with his boots. (_The Chambermaid and Waiters slip out_.)

(_Solus_.) The house is turned upside down since the strange gentleman came into it. Nothing but guessing and speculating, and speculating and guessing; waiters and chambermaids getting into corners and speculating, ostlers and stable-boys speculating in the yard, I believe the very horses in the stable are speculating too, for there they stand in a musing posture, nothing for them to eat, and not seeming to care whether thay have any thing or no; and after all what does it signify? I hate such curious--odso, I must take this box up into his bed-room--he charged me to see to it myself--I hate such inquisitive--I wonder what is in it, it feels heavy (_Reads_) "Leases, title deeds, wills." Here now a man might satisfy his curiosity at once. Deeds must have names to them, so must leases and wills. But I wouldn't--no I wouldn't--it is a pretty box too--prettily dovetailed--I admire the fashion of it much. But I'd cut my fingers off, before I'd do such a dirty--what have I to do--curse the keys, how they rattle--rattle in one's pockets--the keys and the halfpence (_takes out a bunch and plays with them_). I wounder if any of these would fit; one might just try them, but I wouldn't lift up the lid if they did. Oh no, what should I be the richer for knowing? (_All this time he tries the keys one by one_.) What's his name to me? a thousand names begin with an H. I hate people that are always prying, poking and prying into things,--thrusting their finger into one place--a mighty little hole this--and their keys into another. Oh Lord! little rusty fits it! but what is that to me? I wouldn't go to--no no--but it is odd little rusty should just happen. (_While he is turning up the lid of the box_, MR. H. _enters behing him unperceived_.)

MR. H. What are you about, you dog?

LANDLORD Oh Lord, Sir! pardon; no thief as I hope to be saved. Little Pry was always honest.

MR. H. What else could move you to open that box!

LANDLORD Sir, don't kill me, and I will confess the whole truth. This box happened to be lying--that is, I happened to be carrying this box, and I happened to have my keys out, and so--little rusty happened to fit--

MR. H. So little rusty happened to fit!--and would not a rope fit that rogue's neck? I see the papers have not been moved: all is safe, but it was as well to frighten him a little (_aside_).

Come, Landlord, as I think you honest, and suspect you only intended to gratify a little foolish curiosity--

LANDLORD That was all, Sir, upon my veracity.

MR. H. For this time I will pass it over. Your name is Pry, I think.

LANDLORD Yes, Sir, Jeremiah Pry, at your service.

MR. H. An apt name, you have a prying temper. I mean, some little curiosity, a sort of inquisitiveness about you.

LANDLORD A natural thirst after knowledge you may call it, Sir. When a boy I was never easy, but when I was thrusting up the lids of some of my school-fellows' boxes,--not to steal any thing, upon my honour, Sir,--only to see what was in them; have had pens stuck in my eyes for peeping through key-holes after knowledge; could never see a cold pie with the legs dangling out at top, but my fingers were for lifting up the crust,--just to try if it were pigeon or partridge,--for no other reason in the world. Surely I think my passion for nuts was owing to the pleasure of cracking the shell to get at something concealed, more than to any delight I took in eating the kernel. In short, Sir, this appetite has grown with my growth.

MR. H. You will certainly be hanged some day for peeping into some bureau or other, just to see what is in it.

LANDLORD That is my fear, Sir. The thumps and kicks I have had for peering into parcels, and turning of letters inside out,--just for curiosity. The blankets I have been made to dance in for searching parish-registers for old ladies' ages,--just for curiosity! Once I was dragged through a horse-pond, only for peeping into a closet that had glass doors to it, while my Lady Bluegarters was undressing,--just for curiosity!

MR. H. A very harmless piece of curiosity, truly; and now, Mr. Pry, first have the goodness to leave that box with me, and then do me the favour to carry your curiosity so far, as to enquire if my servants are within.

LANDLORD I shall, Sir. Here, David, Jonathan,--I think I hear them coming,--shall make bold to leave you, Sir.

[_Exit._]

MR. H. Another tolerable specimen of the comforts of going anonymous!

_Enter two Footmen._

FIRST FOOTMAN You speak first.

SECOND FOOTMAN No, you had better speak.

FIRST FOOTMAN You promised to begin.

MR. H. They have something to say to me. The rascals want their wages raised, I suppose; there is always a favour to be asked when they come smiling. Well, poor rogues, service is but a hard bargain at the best. I think I must not be close with them. Well, David--well, Jonathan.

FIRST FOOTMAN We have served your honour faithfully----

SECOND FOOTMAN Hope your honour won't take offence----

MR. H. The old story, I suppose--wages?

FIRST FOOTMAN That's not it, your honour.

SECOND FOOTMAN You speak.

FIRST FOOTMAN But if your honour would just be pleased to----

SECOND FOOTMAN Only be pleased to----

MR. H. Be quick with what you have to say, for I am in haste.

FIRST FOOTMAN Just to----

SECOND FOOTMAN Let us know who it is----

FIRST FOOTMAN Who it is we have the honour to serve.

MR. H. Why me, me, me; you serve me.

SECOND FOOTMAN Yes, Sir; but we do not know who you are.

MR. H. Childish curiosity! do not you serve a rich master, a gay master, an indulgent master?

FIRST FOOTMAN Ah, Sir! the figure you make is to us, your poor servants, the principal mortification.

SECOND FOOTMAN When we get over a pot at the public-house, or in a gentleman's kitchen, or elsewhere, as poor servants must have their pleasures--when the question goes round, who is your master? and who do you serve? and one says, I serve Lord So-and-so, and another, I am Squire Such-a-one's footman----

FIRST FOOTMAN We have nothing to say for it, but that we serve Mr. H.

SECOND FOOTMAN Or Squire H.

MR. H. Really you are a couple of pretty modest, reasonable personages; but I hope you will take it as no offence, gentlemen, if, upon a dispassionate review of all that you have said, I think fit not to tell you any more of my name, than I have chosen for especial purposes to communicate to the rest of the world.

FIRST FOOTMAN Why then, Sir, you may suit yourself.

SECOND FOOTMAN We tell you plainly, we cannot stay.

FIRST FOOTMAN We don't chuse to serve Mr. H.

SECOND FOOTMAN Nor any Mr. or Squire in the alphabet----

FIRST FOOTMAN That lives in Chris-cross Row.

MR. H. Go, for a couple of ungrateful, inquisitive, senseless rascals! Go hang, starve, or drown!--Rogues, to speak thus irreverently of the alphabet--I shall live to see you glad to serve old Q--to curl the wig of great S--adjust the dot of little i--stand behind the chair of X, Y, Z--wear the livery of Et-caetera--and ride behind the sulky of And-by-itself-and!

[_Exit in a rage_.]