CLERMONT. When a lover offers, madam, to take a daughter without a portion, one should inquire no farther; every thing is contained in that one article; and “without a portion,” supplies the want of beauty, youth, family wisdom, honour, and honesty.
LOVEGOLD. Gloriously said! spoke like an oracle! [Exit.
CLERMONT. So, once more we are alone together. Believe me, this is a most painful hypocrisy; it tortures me to oppose your opinion, though I am not in earnest, nor suspected by you of being so. Oh, Harriet! how is the noble passion of love abused by vulgar souls, who are incapable of tasting its delicacies! When love is great as mine,
None can its pleasures or its pains declare,
We can but feel how exquisite they are. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE continues.
FREDERICK, RAMILIE.
FREDERICK. What is the reason, sirrah, you have been out of the way, when I gave you orders to stay here?
RAMILIE. Yes, sir, and here did I stay, according to your orders, till your good father turned me out; and it is, sir, at the extreme hazard of a cudgel that I return back again.
FREDERICK. Well, sir, and what answer have you brought touching the money?
RAMILIE. Ah, sir! it is a terrible thing to borrow money: a man must have dealt with the devil to deal with a scrivener.
FREDERICK. Then it won’t do, I suppose.
RAMILIE. Pardon me, sir, Mr. Decoy, the broker, is a most industrious person; he says he has done every thing in his power to serve you; for he has taken a particular fancy to your honour.
FREDERICK. So, then, I shall have the five hundred, shall I?
RAMILIE. Yes, sir; but there are some trifling conditions which your honour must submit to before the affair can be finished.
FREDERICK. Did he bring you to the speech of the person that is to lend the money?
RAMILIE. Ah, sir; things are not managed in that manner; he takes more care to conceal himself than you do; there are greater mysteries in these matters than you imagine; why, he would not so much as tell me the lender’s name; and he is to bring him to-day to talk with you in some third person’s house, to learn from your own mouth the particulars of your estate and family; I dare swear the very name of your father will make all things easy.
FREDERICK. Chiefly the death of my mother, whose jointure no one can hinder me of.
RAMILIE. Here, sir, I have brought the articles; Mr. Decoy told me he took them from the mouth of the person himself. Your honour will find them extremely reasonable; the broker was forced to stickle hard to get such good ones: In the first place, the lender is to see all his securities; and the borrower must be of age, and heir apparent to a large estate, without flaw in the title, and entirely free from all incumbrance; and that the lender may run as little risk as possible, the borrower must insure his life for the sum lent; if he be an officer in the army, he is to make over his whole pay for the payment of both principal and interest, which, that the lender may not burden his conscience with any scruples, is to be no more than 30 per cent.
FREDERICK. Oh, the conscientious rascal!
RAMILIE. But as the said lender has not by him, at present, the sum demanded; and that to oblige the borrower he is himself forced to borrow of another at the rate of 4 per cent., he thinks it but reasonable that the first borrower, over and above the 30 per cent, aforesaid, shall also pay this 4 per cent., since it is for his service only that the sum is borrowed.
FREDERICK. Oh, the devil! what a Jew is here!
RAMILIE. You know, sir, what you have to do — he can’t oblige you to these terms.
FREDERICK. Nor can I oblige him to lend me the money without them; and you know that I must have it, let the conditions be what they will.
RAMILIE. Ay, sir, why that was what I told him.
FREDERICK. Did you so, rascal? No wonder he insists on such conditions, if you laid open my necessities to him.
RAMILIE. Alas! sir, I only told it to the broker, who is your friend, and has your interest very much at heart.
FREDERICK. Well; is this all, or are there any more reasonable articles?
RAMILIE. Of the five hundred pounds required, the lender can pay down, in cash, no more than four hundred; and for the rest, the borrower must take in goods, of which here follows the catalogne.
FREDERICK. What in the devil’s name is the meaning of all this?
RAMILIE. Imprimis, One large yellow camlet bed, lined with satin, very little eaten by the moths, and wanting only one curtain. Six stuffed chairs of the same, a little torn, and the frames worm-eaten, otherwise not in the least the worse for wearing. One large pier-glass, with only one crack in the middle. One suit of tapestry hangings, in which are curiously wrought the loves of Mars and Venus, Venus and Adonis, Cupid and Psyche, with many other amorous stories, which make the hangings very proper for a bedchamber.
FREDERICK. What the devil is here?
RAMILIE. Item, One suit of drugget, with silver buttons, the buttons only the worse for wearing. Item, Two muskets, one of which only wants the lock. One large silver watch, with Tompion’s name to it. One snuff-box, with a picture in it bought at Mr. Beard’s; a proper present for a mistress. Five pictures without frames; if not originals, all copies by good hands; and one fine frame without a picture.
FREDERICK. Oons! what use have I for all this?
RAMILIE. Several valuable books; amongst which are all the journals printed for these five years last past, handsomely bound and lettered. — The whole works in divinity of —
FREDERICK. Read no more: confound the curst extortioner; I shall pay 100 per cent.
RAMILIE. Ah, sir! I wish your honour would consider of it in time.
FREDERICK. I must have money. To what straits are we reduced by the curst avarice of fathers! Well may we wish them dead, when their death is the only introduction to our living.
RAMILIE. Such a father as yours, sir, is enough to make one do something more than wish him dead. For my part, I have never had any inclination towards hanging; and, I thank Heaven, I have lived to see whole sets of my companions swing out of the world, while I have had address enough to quit all manner of gallantries the moment I smelt the halter: I have always had an utter aversion to the smell of hemp; but this rogue of a father of yours, sir — sir, I ask your pardon — has so provoked me, that I have often wished to rob him, and rob him I shall in the end, that’s certain.
FREDERICK. Give me that paper, that I may consider a little these moderate articles.
SCENE II.
LOVEGOLD, MR. DECOY, RAMILIE, FREDERICK.
MR. DECOY. In short, sir, he is a very extravagant young fellow, and so pressed by his necessities, that you may bring him to what terms you please.
LOVEGOLD. But do yon think, Mr. Decoy, there is no danger? Do you know the name, the family, and the estate of the borrower?
MR. DECOY. No, I cannot give you any perfect information yet, for it was by the greatest accident in the world that he was recommended to me; but you will learn all these from his own lips; and his man assured me you would make no difficulty the moment you knew the name of his father; all that I can tell you is, that his servant says the old gentleman is extremely rich; he called him a covetous old rascal.
LOVEGOLD. Ay, that is the name which these spendthrifts and the rogues their servants give to all honest prudent men who know the world, and the value of their money.
MR. DECOY. This young gentleman is an only son, and is so little afraid of any future competitors, that he offers to be bound, if you insist on it, that his father shall die within these eight months.
LOVEGOLD. Ay, there’s something in that; I believe then I shall let him have the money. Charity, Mr. Decoy, charity obliges us to serve our neighbour, I say, when we are no losers by so doing.
MR. DECOY. Very true indeed.
RAMILIE. Heyday! what can be the meaning of this? our broker talking with the old gentleman!
MR. DECOY. So gentlemen! I s
ee you are in great haste. But who told you, pray, that this was the lender? I assure you, sir, I neither discovered your name, nor your house; but, however, there is no great harm done, they are people of discretion, so you may freely transact the affair now.
LOVEGOLD. How!
MR. DECOY. This, sir, is the gentleman that wants to borrow the five hundred pounds I mentioned to you.
LOVEGOLD. How! rascal, is it you that abandon yourself to these intolerable extravagances?
FREDERICK. I must even stand buff, and outface him. [Aside.] — And is it you, father, that disgrace yourself by these scandalous extortions? [Ramilie and Mr. Decoy sneak off.
LOVEGOLD. Is it you that would ruin yourself, by taking up money at such interest?
FREDERICK. Is it you that would enrich yourself, by lending at such interest?
LOVEGOLD. How dare you after this appear before my face?
FREDERICK. How dare you after this appear before the face of the world?
LOVEGOLD. Get you out of my sight, villain; get out of my sight!
FREDERICK. Sir, I go; but give me leave to say —
LOVEGOLD. I’ll not hear a word. I’ll prevent your attempting any thing of this nature for the future. — Get out of my sight, villain. I am not sorry for this accident; it will make me henceforth keep a strict eye over his actions. [Exeunt.
SCENE III
An Apartment in LOVEGOLD’S House.
HARRIET, MARIANA.
MARIANA. Nay, Harriet, you must excuse me; for of all people upon earth, you are my greatest favourite: but I have had such an intolerable cold, child, that it is a miracle I have recovered; for, my dear, would you think I have had no less than three doctors?
HARRIET. Nay, then it is a miracle you recovered, indeed!
MARIANA. Oh! child, doctors will never do me any harm; I never take any thing they prescribe: I don’t know how it is, when one’s ill one can’t help sending for them; and you know, my dear, my mamma loves physic better than she does any thing but cards.
HARRIET. Were I to take as much of cards as you do, I don’t know which I should nauseate most.
MARIANA. Oh! child, you are quite a tramontane; I must bring you to like dear Spadille. I protest, Harriet, if you would take my advice in some things, you would be the most agreeable creature in the world.
HARRIET. Nay, my dear, I am in a fair way of being obliged to obey your commands.
MARIANA. That would be the happiest thing in the world for you; and I dare swear you would like them extremely, for they would be exactly opposite to every command of your father’s.
HARRIET. By that, now one would think you were married already.
MARIANA. Married, my dear!
HARRIET. Oh, I can tell you of such a conquest: you will have such a lover within these four and twenty hours.
MARIANA. I am glad you have given me timely notice of it, that I may turn off somebody to make room for him; but I believe I have listed him already. Oh, Harriet; I have been so plagued, so pestered, so fatigued, since I saw you, with that dear creature, your brother — In short, child, he has made arrant downright love to me; if my heart had not been harder than adamant itself, I had been your sister by this time.
HARRIET. And if your heart be not harder than adamant, you will be in a fair way of being my mother shortly; for my good father has this very day declared such a passion for you —
MARIANA. Your father!
HARRIET. Ay, my dear. What say you to a comely old gentleman, of not much above threescore, that loves you so violently? I dare swear he will be constant to you all his days.
MARIANA. Ha, ha, ha! I shall die. Ha, ha, ha! You extravagant creature, how could you throw away all this jest at once? it would have furnished a prudent person with an annuity of laughter for life. Oh! I am charmed with my conquest; I am quite in love with him already. I never had a lover yet above half his age.
HARRIET. Lappet and I have laid a delightful plot, if you will but come into it, and counterfeit an affection for him.
MARIANA. Why, child, I have a real affection for him. Oh! methinks I see you on your knees already — Pray, mamma, please to give me your blessing. Oh! I see my loving bridegroom in his threefold nightcap, his flannel shirt; methinks I see him approach me with all the lovely gravity of age; I hear him whisper charming sentences of morality in my ear, more instructive than all my grandmother ever taught me. Oh! I smell him sweeter: oh! sweeter than even hartshorn itself. Ha, ha, ha! See, child, how beautiful a fond imagination can paint a lover: would not any one think now we had been a happy couple together, Heaven knows how long?
HARRIET. Well, you dear mad creature, but do you think you can maintain any of this fondness to his face? for I know some women who speak very fondly of a husband to other people, but never say one civil thing to the man himself.
MARIANA. Oh! never fear it; one can’t indeed bring one’s self to be civil to a young lover; but as for these old fellows, I think one may play as harmlessly with them as with one another. Young fellows are perfect bears, and must be kept at a distance; the old ones are mere lap dogs, and when they have agreeable tricks with them, one is equally fond of both.
HARRIET. Well, but now I hope you will give me leave to speak a word or two seriously in favour of my poor brother.
MARIANA. Oh! I shall hate you if you are serious: Auh! see what your wicked words have occasioned; I protest you are a conjuror, and certainly deal with the devil.
SCENE IV.
FREDERICK, MARIANA, HARRIET.
HARRIET. Oh, brother! I am glad you are come to plead your own cause; I have been your solicitor in your absence.
FREDERICK. I am afraid, like other clients, I shall plead much worse for myself than my advocate has done.
MARIANA. Persons who have a bad cause should have very artful counsel.
FREDERICK. When the judge is determined against us, all art will prove of no effect.
MARIANA. Why then, truly, sir, in so terrible a situation, I think the sooner you give up the cause the better.
FREDERICK. No, madam, I am resolved to persevere; for when one’s whole happiness is already at stake; I see nothing more can be hazarded in the pursuit. It might be perhaps, a person’s interest to give up a cause, wherein part of his fortune was concerned; but, when the dispute is about the whole, he can never lose by persevering.
MARIANA. Do you hear him, Harriet? I fancy this brother of yours would have made a most excellent lawyer. I protest, when he is my son-in-law, I’ll even send him to the Temple; though he begins a little late, yet diligence may bring him to be a great man.
FREDERICK. I hope, madam, diligence may succeed in love, as well as law; sure Mariana is not a more crabbed study than Coke upon Lyttleton?
MARIANA. Oh! the wretch, he has quite suffocated me with his comparison: I must have a little air: dear Harriet, let us walk in the garden.
FREDERICK. I hope, madam, I have your leave to attend you?
MARIANA. My leave! no, indeed, you have no leave of mine; but if you will follow me, I know no way to hinder you.
HARRIET. Ah, brother, I wish you had no greater enemy in this affair than your mistress.
SCENE V.
RAMILIE, LAPPET.
LAPPET. This was, indeed, a most unlucky accident; however, I dare lay a wager I shall succeed better with him, and get some of those guineas you would have borrowed.
RAMILIE. I am not, madam, now to learn Mrs. Lappet’s dexterity; but if you get any thing out of him, I shall think you a match for the devil. Sooner than to extract gold from him, I would engage to extract religion from a hypocrite, honesty from a lawyer, health from a physician, sincerity from a courtier, or modesty from a poet. I think, my dear, you have lived long enough in this house to know that gold is a very dear commodity here.
LAPPET. Ah! but there are some certain services which will squeeze it out of the closest hands; there is one trade, which. I thank Heaven, I am no stranger to, wherein all men are dabblers; and he who will scarce
afford himself either meat or clothes, will still pay for the commodities I deal in.
RAMILIE. Your humble servant, madam; I find you don’t know our good master yet; there is not a woman in the world, who loves to hear her pretty self talk never so much, but you may easier shut her mouth, than open his hands: as for thanks, praises and promises, no courtier upon earth is more liberal of them: but for money, the devil a penny: there’s nothing so dry as his caresses: and there is no husband who hates the word Wife half so much as he does the word Give; instead of saying, I give you a good-morrow, he always says, I lend you a good morrow.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 301
