MRS. MODERN. Oh, no doubt of that; I do not know any one who is not.
LATELY. What shall I do, ma’am, when she comes again?
MRS. MODERN. You must — you must send her away again, I think.
LATELY. Yes, ma’am, but —
MRS. MODERN. But — but what? Don’t trouble me with your impertinence: I have other things to think on — Bills! bills! bills! I wonder in a civilized nation there are no laws against duns. [Knocking at the door.] Come in.
SCENE II.
To them, FOOTMAN.
FOOTMAN. My Lady Ever-play, madam, gives her humble service to you, and desires your ladyship’s company to-morrow se’ennight, to make a party at Quadrille with my Lady Loseall and Mrs. Banespouse.
MRS. MODERN. Lately, bring the Quadrille-book hither; see whether I am engaged.
LATELY. Here it is, ma’am.
MRS. MODERN. Run over the engagements.
LATELY. Monday, February 5, at Mrs. Squabble’s; Tuesday, at Mrs. Witless’s; Wednesday, at Lady Matadore’s; Thursday, at Mrs. Fiddlefaddle’s; Friday, at Mrs. Ruin’s; Saturday, at Lady Trifle’s; Sunday, at Lady Barbara Pawnjewel’s.
MRS. MODERN. What is the wench doing? See for how long I am engaged. — At this rate you will not have done this hour.
LATELY. Ma’am, your ladyship is engaged every night till Thursday three weeks.
MRS. MODERN. My service to Lady Ever-play; I have parties every night till Thursday three weeks, and then I shall be very glad if she will get two more at my house — and — Tom — take the roll of visits, and go with my chair to pay them; but remember not to call at Mrs. Worthy’s.
SCENE III.
MRS. MODERN, LATELY.
MRS. MODERN. I intend to leave off her acquaintance, for I never see any people of fashion at her house, which, indeed, I do not wonder at; for the wretch is hardly ever to be met with without her husband. And truly, I think, she is not fit company for any other. Did you ever see any one dress like her, Lately?
LATELY. Oh, frightful! I have wondered how your ladyship could endure her so long.
MRS. MODERN. Why, she plays at Quadrille worse than she dresses, and one would endure a great deal in a person who loses her money.
LATELY. Nay, now I wonder that your la’ship has left her off at all.
MRS. MODERN. Truly, because she has left off play; and now she rails at cards, for the same reason as some women do at gallantry — from ill success. — Poor creatures! how ignorant they are, that all their railing is only a loud proclamation that they have lost their money, or a lover.
LATELY. They may rail as long as they please, ma’am; they will never be able to expel those two pleasures out of the world.
MRS. MODERN. Ah, Lately! I hope I shall be expelled out of the world first. Those Quadrille-rings of mine are worth more money than four of the best brilliants. — There is more conjuration in these dear circles — [Shows a ring.] These spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds. Hark, I hear my husband coming; go you down stairs. [Exit Lately.] Husband did I say? Sure, the wretch, who sells his wife, deserves another name. But I must be civil to him while I despise him.
SCENE IV.
MR. MODERN, MRS. MODERN.
MRS. MODERN. My dear, good morrow.
MR. MODERN. I hope you slept well last night, madam; that is, I hope you had good success at cards.
MRS. MODERN. Very indifferent. I had won a considerable sum, if it had not been for a cursed sans-prendre-vole, that swept the whole table. That Lady Weldon has such luck, if I were superstitious, I should forswear playing with her — for I never played with her, but I cheated, nor ever played with her, but I lost.
MR. MODERN. Then, without being very superstitious, I think you may suspect that she cheats too.
MRS. MODERN. Did I not know the other company — For the very worst of Quadrille is, one cannot cheat without a partner. The division of a booty gives one more pain, than the winning it can pleasure — I am to make up accounts tomorrow with Mrs. Sharpring — but where to get the money I know not, unless you have it, child.
MR. MODERN. I have it! I wanted to borrow some of you; unless you can raise me five hundred pounds by tomorrow night, I shall be in a fair way to go to jail the next morning.
MRS. MODERN. If the whole happiness of my life depended on it, I could not get the tenth part.
MR. MODERN. You do not manage Lord Richly right. Men will give anything to a woman they are fond of.
MRS. MODERN. But not to a woman whom they were fond of. The decay of Lord Richly’s passion is too apparent for you not to have observed it. He visits me seldom; and I am afraid, should I ask a favour of him, it might break off our acquaintance.
MR. MODERN. Then I see no reason for your acquaintance; he dances no longer at my house, if he will not pay the music — But hold, I have a thought come into my head may oblige him to it, and make better music for us than you imagine.
MRS. MODERN. What is it?
MR. MODERN. Suppose I procured witnesses of his familiarity with you — I should recover swinging damages.
MRS. MODERN. But then my reputation —
MR. MODERN. Pooh, you will have enough to gild it; never fear your reputation while you are rich — for gold in this world covers as many sins as charity in the next. So that get a great deal, and give away a little, and you secure your happiness in both. Besides, in this case all the scandal falls on the husband.
MRS. MODERN. Oh no! I shall be no more visited — Farewell, dear Quadrille, dear, dear Sans-prendre-vole, and matadores.
MR. MODERN. You will be forced to quit these pleasures otherwise; for your companions in ‘em will quit you the very moment they apprehend our sinking fortune. You will find that wealth has a surer interest to introduce roguery into company, than virtue to introduce poverty.
MRS. MODERN. You will never persuade me: my reputation is dearer to me than my life.
MR. MODERN. Very strange! that a woman who made so little scruple of sacrificing the substance of her virtue, should make so much of parting with the shadow of it.
MRS. MODERN. ‘Tis the shadow only that is valuable — Reputation is the soul of virtue.
MR. MODERN. So far, indeed, that it survives long after the body is dead. Though to me virtue has appeared nothing more than a sound, and reputation is its echo. Is there not more charm in the chink of a thousand guineas, than in ten thousand praises? But what need more arguments: as I have been contented to wear horns for your pleasure, it is but reasonable you should let me show ‘em for my profit.
MRS. MODERN. If my pleasures, Mr. Modern, had been your only inducement, you would have acted another part. How have you maintained your figure in the world since your losses in the South Sea, and others? And do you upbraid me with the crimes which you yourself have licensed — have lived by?
MR. MODERN. Had I followed my own inclinations, I had retired; and instead of supporting these extravagances by such methods, had reduced my pleasures to my fortune. ‘Twas you, madam, who by your unbridled pride and vanity run me into debt; and then — I gave up your person to secure my own.
MRS. MODERN. Ha! have I secured thy worthless person at the expense of mine? No, wretch, ‘tis at the price of thy shame, I have purchased pleasures. Why, why do I say thy shame? The mean, the grovelling animal, whom any fear could force to render up the honour of his wife must be above the fear of shame. Did I not come unblemished to thee? Was not my life unspotted as my fame, till at thy base entreaties I gave up my innocence? — Oh! that I had sooner seen thee starve in prison, which yet I will, ere thou shalt reap the fruits of my misfortunes. No, I will publish thy dishonour to the world.
MR. MODERN. Nay, but, my dear.
MRS. MODERN. Despicable monster.
MR. MODERN. But, child, hearken to reason.
MRS. MODERN. Never, never.
MR. MODERN. I own myself in the wrong. I ask ten thousand pardons. I will submit to any punishment.
MRS. MODERN. To upbraid me with —
&n
bsp; MR. MODERN. My dear, I am in the wrong, I say. I never will be guilty of the like again.
MRS. MODERN. Leave me a while: perhaps I may come to myself.
MR. MODERN. My dear, I am obedient. — Sure, the grand seignior has no slave equal to a contented cuckold.
SCENE V.
MRS. MODERN. [Alone.] What shall I do? Money must be raised — but how? Is there on earth a person that would lend me twenty guineas? I have lost Gaywit’s heart too long to expect any thing there; nor would my love ever suffer me to ask him. Ha! Bellamant perhaps may do it: he is generous, and I believe he loves me. I will try him, however. — What wretched shifts are they obliged to make use of, who would support the appearance of a fortune which they have not.
SCENE VI
The Street before LORD RICHLY’S door.
CAPTAIN MERIT. This is the door I must attack; and I have attacked a city with less reluctance. There is more hardship in one hour’s base solicitation at a levee, than in a whole campaign.
SCENE VII.
CAPTAIN MERIT, PORTER.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Does my Lord Richly see company this morning?
PORTER. Sir, I cannot tell yet whether he does or no.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Nay, I have seen several gentlemen go in.
PORTER. I know not whom you may see go in. I suppose they have business with his lordship. I hope you will give my lord leave to be at home to whom he pleases.
CAPTAIN MERIT. If business be a passport to his lordship, I have business with him of consequence.
PORTER. Sir, I shall tell him of it.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Sir, I shall be obliged to you to tell him now.
PORTER. I cannot carry any message now, unless I know you.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Why, don’t you know me? that my name is Merit.
PORTER. Sir, here are so many gentlemen come every day, that unless I have often new tokens to remember ‘em by, it is impossible. — Stand by there; room for my Lord Lazy. [Lord Lazy crosses in a chair.
SCENE VIII.
CAPTAIN MERIT, CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE, from the House.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. Merit, good-morrow; what important affair can have sent you hither, whom I know to shun the houses of the great as much as virtue does?
CAPTAIN MERIT. Or as much as they do poverty; for I have not been able to advance farther than you see me. ‘Sdeath, I have mounted a breach against an armed file of the enemy, and yet a single porter has denied me entrance at that door. You, I see, have speeded better.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. Ha, ha, ha! thou errant man of war — Harkye, friend, there is but one key to all the great men’s houses in town.
CAPTAIN MERIT. IS it not enough to cringe to power, but we must do the same to the servants of power?
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. Sir, the servants of a great man are all great men. Would you get within their doors, you must bow to the porter, and fee him too. Then, to go farther, you must pay your devoirs to his gentleman; and, after you have bowed for about half an hour to his whole family, at last you may get a bow from himself.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Damnation! I’d sooner be a galleyslave. Shall I, who have spent my youth and health in my country’s service, be forced by such mean vassalage to defend my old age from cold and hunger, while every painted butterfly wantons in the sunshine? [Colonel Courtly crosses.] ‘Sdeath, there’s a fellow now — That fellow’s father was a pimp; his mother, she turned bawd; and his sister turned whore: you see the consequence. How happy is that country, where pimping and whoring are esteemed public services, and where grandeur and the gallows lie on the same road!
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. But, leaving off railing, what is your business with his lordship?
CAPTAIN MERIT. There is a company vacant in Colonel Favourite’s regiment, which, by his lordship’s interest, I hope to gain.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. But pray, by what ‘do you hope to gain his lordship’s interest?
CAPTAIN MERIT. You know, Bravemore, I am little inclined to boasting; but I think my services may speak something for me.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. Faith, I’m afraid you will find ‘em dumb; or, if they do speak, it will be a language not understood by the great. Suppose you apply to his nephew, Mr. Gaywit; his interest with my lord may be of service to you.
CAPTAIN MERIT. I have often seen him at Mr. Bellamant’s, and believe he would do anything to serve me.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. But the levee is begun by this. If you please, I’ll introduce you to’t.
CAPTAIN MERIT. What an abundance of poor wretches go to the feeding the vanity of that leviathan — one great rogue.
SCENE IX.
LORD RICHLY at his House.
LORD RICHLY. Ha, ha, ha! — agreeable! Courtly, thou art the greatest droll upon earth — you’ll dine with me — Lord Lazy, will you make me happy too?
LORD LAZY. I’ll make myself so, my lord.
LORD RICHLY. Mr. Woodall, your servant; how long have you been in town?
MR. WOODALL. I cannot be particular; I carry no almanack about me, my lord; a week or a fortnight, perhaps: too much time to lose at this season, when a man should be driving the foxes out of his country.
COLONEL COURTLY. I hope you have brought your family ‘ to town: a parliament-man should always bring his wife with him, that, if he does not serve the public, she may.
LORD RICHLY. NOW I think familiarity with the wife of a senator should be made a breach of privilege.
COLONEL COURTLY. Your lordship is in the right — the person of his wife should be made as sacred as his own.
MR. WOODALL. Ay, the women would thank us damnably for such a vote — and the Colonel here is a very likely man to move it.
COLONEL COURTLY. Not I; for the women then would be as backward to be our wives as the tradesmen are now to be our creditors.
MR. WOODALL. To the fine gentlemen of us, who lay out their small fortunes in extravagance, and their slender stock of love on their wenches. I remember the time when I was a young fellow, that men used to dress like men: but now I meet with nothing but a parcel of toupet coxcombs, who plaster up their brains upon their periwigs.
LORD RICHLY. I protest thou art an errant wit, Woodall.
COLONEL COURTLY. Oh, he’s one of the greatest wits of his county.
MR. WOODALL. I have one of the greatest estates of my county, and by what I can see, that entitles a man to wit here as well as there.
CAPTAIN MERIT. Methinks, this rough spark is very free with his lordship. [To Bravemore.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. You must know this is a sort of polite bear-baiting. There is hardly a great man in town but what is fond of these sort of fellows, whom they take a delight in baiting with one or more buffoons. But now for your business.
LORD RICHLY. I shall see him this morning; you may depend on my speaking about it. — [To a gentleman.] Captain Bravemore. I am glad to see you.
CAPTAIN BRAVEMORE. My lord, here is a gentleman of distinguished services; if your lordship would recommend him to Colonel Favourite.
LORD RICHLY. Sir. I shall certainly do it.
CAPTAIN MERIT. There being a company vacant, my lord — My name is Merit.
LORD RICHLY. Mr. Merit, I shall be extremely glad to serve you — Sir John, your most obedient humble servant. — Lazy, what were you saying about Mr. Bellamant?
LORD LAZY. We were talking, my lord, of his affair, which was heard in our house yesterday.
LORD RICHLY. I am sorry I was not there. It went against him, I think.
LORD LAZY. Yes, my lord, and I am afraid it affects him deeply.
COLONEL COURTLY. Undone, sir; quite undone.
LORD RICHLY. Upon my soul, Mrs. Bellamant’s a fine woman.
MR. WOODALL. Then, I suppose, if her husband’s undone, you ‘ll have her among you.
LORD RICHLY. Woodall, thou’rt a liquorish dog. Thou wouldst have the first snap.
MR. WOODALL. Not I; none of your town ladies for me; I always take leave of women from the time I come out of the country till I go back again.
LORD LAZY. Women! Pox on him! he means foxes again.
COLONEL COURTLY. He knows no difference.
MR. WOODALL. Nor you either. But harkye, I fancy it is safer riding after the one than the other.
COLONEL COURTLY. Thy ideas are as gross as thy person.
LORD RICHLY. Hang him, sly rogue —— you never knew a foxhunter that did not love a wench.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 280
