SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Let the hour be eight, and the place my son’s chambers. I’ll prepare matters that nobody shall prevent you. And hark’ee, suppose you give her a dose of opium in a dish of chocolate; if she were married half asleep, you and I could swear she was awake, you know.
YOUNG PEDANT. I cannot assent to that. Suppose the Positum be — The woman is but half asleep: will it follow,
Ergo, she is awake?
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. The Positum is twenty thousand pounds — ergo — I will swear any thing.
YOUNG PEDANT. Oh dear! oh dear! was ever such logic heard of? did Burgersdicius ever hint at such a method of reasoning?
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Burgersdicius was an ass, and so are you.
VALENTINE. Be not in a passion, Sir Avarice; our time is short. I will go perform my part; pray, observe yours.
SCENE XV.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT, YOUNG PEDANT.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Logic, indeed! can your logic teach you more than this? two and two make four: take six out of seven, and there remains one. The sum given is twenty thousand pounds; take naught out of twenty, and there remains a score. If your great logician, your Aristotle, was alive, take naught out of his pocket, and there would remain naught. A complete notion of figures is beyond all the Greek and Latin in the world. Learning is a fine thing, indeed, in an age when of the few that have it the greater part starve. I remember when a set of strange fellows used to meet at Wills’ coffee-house; but now it’s another Change
ALLEY. Every man now who would live, must be a stockjobber. — Here is twenty thousand pounds capital stock fallen into your hands, and would you let it slip?
YOUNG PEDANT. But, sir, is not injustice a ——
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Injustice! Hark you, sirrah! I have been guilty of five hundred pieces of injustice for a less sum. I don’t see why you should reap the benefit of my labours, without joining your own.
SCENE XVI
YOUNG PEDANT’S Chambers.
LADY GRAVELY, SERVANT.
LADY GRAVELY. Your master has not been at home yet?
SERVANT. No, madam; but if you please to divert yourself with these books, I presume he will not be long. (I dare not ask her what master she means, for fear of a mistake: though, as I am in no great doubt what her ladyship is, I suppose it to be my beau master.) — [Aside.
LADY GRAVELY. It is now past the time of our appointment; and a lover who retards the first will be very backward indeed on the second. His bringing me off yesterday to my sister gave me no ill assurance of both his honour and his wit. I wish this delay would not justify my suspecting his love. — Hark, I hear him coming.
SCENE XVII.
LADY LUCY PEDANT, LADY GRAVELY.
LADY GRAVELY. Ah!
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Sister, your servant; your servant, sister.
LADY GRAVELY. I am surprised at meeting you here.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Ha, ha, ha! I am a little surprised too. Ha, ha!
LADY GRAVELY. I have scarce strength enough to tell you how I came here. I was walking up from the Temple stairs to take a chair, (I’ll never venture myself alone by water as long as I live,) what should I meet but a rude young Templar who would have forced me to a tavern; but, by great fortune, another Templar, meeting us, endeavoured to wrest me from him: at which my ravisher let go my hand to engage his adversary. I no sooner found myself at liberty, but, seeing a door open, in I run, so frighted, I shall never recover it.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. You were a little unfortunate though, not to find the doctor at home.
LADY GRAVELY. What doctor?
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Ha, ha, ha! Doctor Wilding, my dear, a physician of great practice among the ladies — I presume your ladyship uses him.
LADY GRAVELY. I know no such physician.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. But you know a gentleman of that name, I suppose.
LADY GRAVELY. Sure I am not in that wretch’s chambers?
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Indeed you are.
LADY GRAVELY. It must be the devil, or my evil genius, that has laid this trap for me, — What can have brought you hither too?
LADY LUCY PEDANT. A chair, my dear.
LADY GRAVELY. By what accident?
LADY LUCY PEDANT. By my own orders.
LADY GRAVELY. How, sister!
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Indeed, sister, ‘tis true.
LADY GRAVELY. And have you the confidence to own it to me? I desire, madam, you would not make me privy to your intrigues: I shall not keep them secret, I assure you. She who conceals a crime is in a manner accessory to it.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. I see your policy. Yon would preserve yourself by sacrificing me: but though a thief saves his life by sacrificing his companion, he saves not his reputation. Your nice story of a couple of Templars will not be admitted by the court of scandal at Lady Prude’s tea-table.
LADY GRAVELY. Madam, madam, my brother shall know what a wife he has.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Madam, madam, the world shall know what a sister I have.
LADY GRAVELY. I disclaim your kindred. You are no relation of mine.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. You make me merry.
LADY GRAVELY. I may spoil your mirth: at least I’ll prevent it this time, I’m resolved.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. That’s more ill-natured than I’ll show myself to you — so, your servant. [Exit.
LADY GRAVELY. I’ll take a hackney coach and be at home before her — I see he’s a villain; but I’ll find a way to be revenged on them both.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. [Re-entering.] Oh! for heaven’s sake, let us lay aside all quarrels, and take care of both our reputations. Here’s a whole coach load coming up stairs. I heard them inquire for these chambers — Here’s a closet; in, in — I never was so frightened in my whole life.
SCENE XVIII.
VALENTINE, VEROMIL, BELLARIA, CLARISSA.
VEROMIL. The clergyman outstays his time, or the impatience of my love outflies it. I’m racked till the dear bond be tied beyond the power of art to undo. Think then, my sweet, if the least apprehension of losing thee can shock my soul; what agonies must I have lived in, when hope was as distant as fear is now.
BELLARIA. Too easily, my Veromil, I guess; I know them by my own; for sure I am not in debt one sigh to love.
VEROMIL. In debt! not all the service of my life can pay thee for a tender thought of me. Oh! how I long for one soft hour to tell thee all I’ve undergone. For to look back upon a dreadful sea, which we’ve escaped, adds to the prospect of the beauteous country which we are to enjoy.
SERVANT. [Entering.] Gentlemen, a clergyman in the other room —
VEROMIL. Come, my Bellaria, a few short moments lead me into Paradise.
VALENTINE. Would thou hadst found another; but love forbids you this — You know I strove with all my power against it; but it has conquered — and through my heart you only reach Bellaria.
VEROMIL. Ha! Nay then, wert thou as much my friend, as thou art unworthy of the name — through twenty hearts like thine, I’d rush into her arms. [Fight. The women shriek. Lady Lucy, Lady Gravely, run out of the closet; they all hold Valentine; and as Veromil is leading off Bellaria, Sir Harry, Wilding, and Pincet meet them at the door. Then take thy life — and now, my sweetest —
SCENE XIX.
SIR HARRY WILDING, WILDING, PINCET, LADY LUCY PEDANT, LADY GRAVELY, VALENTINE, VEROMIL,
BELLARIA, and CLARISSA.
VALENTINE. Away. Stand off. Eternal furies seize you!
LADY LUCY PEDANT. You may rave, good sir; but three women will be too hard for you, though you were as stout and as mad as Hercules.
SIR HARRY WILDING. Hey-day! we had but one whore before, here’s a seraglio.
YEROMIL. Let me pass, sir.
SIR HARRY WILDING. No, indeed, sir. I must first know how you came here, and then, perhaps, you shall pass — to the Round-house.
VEROMIL. Then I’ll force my way thus.
WILDING. Nay, I must secure my father. [Veromil makes at Sir Harry, Wilding in
terposes — he pushes at Wilding, and is disarmed — the ladies loose Valentine.
BELLARIA. O heavens! my Veromil, you are not wounded?
YEROMIL. Through the heart, Bellaria, by this prevention.
BELLARIA. Be easy then; for all the powers of hell shall never part us.
SCENE XX.
To them, SIR AVARICE PEDANT, YOUNG PEDANT.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Hey! what have we here? my wife, and sister, and Sir Harry, and all the world!
SIR HARRY WILDING. Death and the devil! what does this mean?
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Nay, good people! how came you all here?
SIR HARRY WILDING. Ay, how came you all here? for I will know before any one go out —
PINCET. Sir, I beg to be excused — [Offering to go.
SIR HARRY WILDING. Not a step: I shall have business for you. I’ll see by what law these people make a public rendezvous of my son’s chambers.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Your son’s chambers, Sir Harry!
YOUNG PEDANT. That they were his, datur — that they are his, negatur — for the time that they were lent for is expired — ergo, they were his, but are not.
LADY LUCY PEDANT and LADY GRAVELY. What’s this?
SIR HARRY WILDING. Were his, but are not — What, have you sold these too, Harry!
WILDING. ‘Twill out.
SIR Harry Wilding. Speak, sir; why don’t you speak? are not these your chambers?
WILDING. No, sir.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. His!
LADY LUCY PEDANT. His, indeed!
LADY GRAVELY. What do you think, Sir Harry, I should do in your son’s chambers?
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Or what do you see here like the apartment of a beau — but I ask pardon. Your son is a lawyer.
OMNES. A lawyer! Ha, ha, ha!
LADY GRAVELY. In short, Sir Harry, your son is as great a rake as any in town.
YOUNG PEDANT. And as ignorant as any at the university.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Ay, or as one half of his brother Templars.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. And as great a rogue, I am afraid, as the other half.
SIR HARRY WILDING. He shall be as great a beggar then as those that are honest.
WILDING. That, sir, an honest captain of my acquaintance will prevent; for as they were my locks that were broke open, he has given up those articles, you were pleased to enter into, to me and my use. For which I am to thank the honest counsellor Ratsbane; into whose possession you have given a bond of annuity of five hundred pounds a year.
SIR HARRY WILDING. Cheated! abused! dog! villain! — ha! I’ll see whether I am able to recover it — [Searches Pincet’s pockets, throws out several papers, and pulls his wig off.
WILDING. It’s beyond your search, I assure you.
PINCET. Help! murder!
YEROMIL. NAy, Sir Harry!
SIR HARRY WILDING. Dog! rascal! I’ll be revenged on you all —
SCENE XXI.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT, YOUNG PEDANT, LADY LUCY PEDANT, LADY GRAVELY, WILDING, YEROMIL, VALENTINE,
BELLARIA, CLARISSA, and PINCET.
VEROMIL. [Taking up a letter.] Here’s one of your papers, sir — [starts]. Gilbert, my father’s servant! — looking on the letter] By heavens! my brother’s hand too — then my curiosity is pardonable. [Reads it.
PINCET. Heaven I see is just.
YEROMIL. Prodigious! — Gentlemen, I beg that man may be secured.
WILDING. He is my servant, sir.
VEROMIL. He formerly was my father’s — This letter here, which is from my brother to him, will inform you farther. “GILBERT, — I received yours, and should have paid you your half year’s annuity long since, but I have had urgent occasions for my money — You say, it is hard to be reduced to your primitive degree, when you have ventured your soul to raise yourself to a higher; and a little after have the impudence to threaten to discover — discover if you dare — you will then find you have ventured your body too; and that perjury will entitle you to the same reward as you audaciously say forgery will me — expect to hear no more from me. You may discover if you please, but you shall find I will not spare that money, which your roguery has assisted me in getting, to have the life of him who is the cause of my losing it. “J. VEROMIL.”
PINCET. If there yet want a stronger confirmation — I, sir, the wretch whom the hopes of riches have betrayed to be a villain, will openly attest the discovery, and, by a second appearance in a public court, restore the lawful heir what my first coming there has robbed him of.
BELLARIA. IS this possible?
VEROMIL. Yes, my sweet — I am now again that Veromil, to whom you first were promised, and from whose breast nothing can tear you more. Sir Avarice, you may be at your ease; for it is now in my power to offer up a better fortune to this lady’s merit than any of her pretenders.
BELLARIA. No fortune can ever add to my love for you, nor loss diminish it.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. What is the meaning of this?
VEROMIL. That fortune, sir, which recommended me to this lady’s father, and which by forgery and perjury I was deprived of, my happy stars now promise to restore me.
PINCET. You need not doubt your success. The other evidence to the deed has been touched with the same scruples of conscience, and will be very ready on an assured pardon to recant.
WILDING. Dear Veromil, let me embrace thee. I am heartily glad I have been instrumental in the procuring your happiness; and, though it is with my mistress, I wish you joy sincerely.
VEROMIL. Wilding, I thank you; and in return, I wish you may be restored into your father’s favour.
WILDING. I make peace with sword in hand, and question not but to bring the old gentleman to reason.
BELLARIA. There yet remains a quarrel in the company, which I would reconcile. Clarissa, I think I read forgiveness in your face; and I am sure penitence is very plain in Valentine’s.
VALENTINE. I am too much a criminal to hope for pardon. Yet, if my fault may be atoned for, I will employ my utmost care to do it. Could I think the acquisition of fortune any recommendation, Sir Avarice has obliged himself to pay me seven thousand pounds on this lady’s marriage.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. The conditions are not fulfilled, sir, and —— —
VALENTINE. Not till she is married, sir. As you have not been pleased to mention to whom, Veromil will fill the place as well as any other.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Sir!
VALENTINE. Sir, what you have agreed to give is but my own; your conditions of delivering it are as scandalous as your retaining it: so you may make a bustle, and lose as much reputation as you please; but the money you will be obliged to pay.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. And pray, sir, why did you invite all this company hither?
VALENTINE. How some of it came here, I know no more than you do.
LADY GRAVELY. I can only account for myself and sister.
LADY LUCY PEDANT. Ay, my sister and I came together.
WILDING. Mine is a long story: but I will divert you all with it some other time.
PIXCET. May I then hope your pardon?
VEROMIL. Deserve it, and I will try to get his majesty’s for you, which will do you most service.
SCENE THE LAST.
To them, a SERVANT.
SERVANT. An’t please your honour, your honour’s brother,
MR. Pedant, is just come to town, and is at home now with Sir Harry Wilding.
SIR AVARICE PEDANT. Then all my hopes are frustrated. Get chairs to the door.
VEROMIL. This is lucky news indeed! and may be so for you too, Wilding: Sir Harry is too good-humoured a man to be an exception to the universal satisfaction of a company. I hope this lady will prevent the uneasiness of another. [To Clarissa.
VALENTINE. This generosity stabs me to the soul. — Oh! my Veromil! my friend! let this embrace testify my repentance.
VEROMIL. And bury what is past.
VALENTINE. Generous, noble soul!
VEROMIL. Madam, give me leave to join your
hands.
BELLARIA. NAY. since I have been the unfortunate cause of separating them, I must assist.
CLARISSA. I know not whether the world will pardon my forgiving you — but —
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 247
