MRS. PLOTWELL. We are apt to hope what we desire. But could any woman have reason to expect the return of a lover, after a month had passed beyond his promise? Had he intended to have married you, he would have done it before his departure. Marriage, like self-murder, requires an immediate resolution; he that takes time for deliberation will never accomplish either.
LUCINA. Oh! Plotwell, thou art well skilled in the wiles of the sex: I wonder thou couldst be deceived.
MRS. PLOTWELL. Yes, madam, I have paid for my knowledge. Man is that forbidden fruit which we must buy the knowledge of with guilt. He must be tasted to be known; and certain poison is in the taste. Were man to appear what he really is, we should fly from him as from a tempestuous sea; or were he to be what he appears, we should be happy in him as in a serene one. They lead us into ruin with the face of angels, and when the door is shut on us exert the devil.
LUCINA. He must have been a man of uncommon sense who worked your ruin.
MRS. PLOTWELL. Bather the circumstances of my ruin were uncommon.
LUCINA. I am surprised that in all our acquaintance, though you have often mentioned your misfortunes, you have carefully avoided entering into the cause of them.
MRS. PLOTWELL. Though the relation be uneasy to me, still, to satisfy your curiosity, and to prevent any solicitations for the future, I will tell you in as few words as I can. In my way to Paris, twenty years ago, I fell acquainted with a young gentleman, who appeared to be an officer in the army. He continued our fellow-traveller on the road, and, after our arrival at Paris, took lodgings in the same house with us. I was then young and unskilled, and too ready to listen to the flattery of a lover. In short, he employed all his art to convince me of his passion, to make an impression on that heart which was too weakly armed to resist him. He succeeded, — and I was undone.
LUCINA. I can’t find any thing uncommon in these circumstances; for I was undone just the same way myself.
MRS. PLOTWELL. After a month spent in our too fatal and too guilty joys he suddenly eloped from Paris, and from that time I never saw him more.
LUCINA. But could any thing be so strange as your staying twenty years in Paris without seeking after him?
MRS. PLOTWELL. I heard the same year he was slain at the battle of Belgrade. But I think it much more strange in you, after staying a year at Paris, to come a hunting after your lover. For a woman to pursue is for the hare to follow the hounds; a chase opposite to the order of nature, and can never be successful. A woman is as sure of not overtaking the lover who flies from her as of being overtaken by a lover who flies after her.
LUCINA. Well, I’m resolved to see him. If I reap no other advantage from it I shall have at least the pleasure of thundering my injuries in his ear.
MRS. PLOTWELL. The usual revenge of an injured mistress. If nature had not granted us the benefit of venting our passions at our tongues and our eyes, the injury and falsehood of mankind would destroy above half our sex.
SCENE II
The Street
MILLAMOUR, HEARTFORT, BRAZEN.
MILLAMOUR. Your calling on me was lucky enough; you could have been directed to none properer for your purpose than this woman: for though her body will scarce go through the door, yet she has dexterity enough to go through the key-hole. But let me tell you that dexterity must be put in motion by gold, or it will remain in rest.
HEARTFORT. She shall not want that. When my Charlotte’s at stake, fortune or life are trifles to the adventurer.
MILLAMOUR. Well, for a sober grave man of sense, thou art something violent in thy passion. I always thought love as foreign to a speculative man as religion to an atheist.
HEARTFORT. Perhaps it may: for I believe the atheist is as often insincere in his contempt of religion as the other in his contempt of woman. There are instances of men who have professed themselves despisers of both, that have at length been found kneeling at their shrines.
MILLAMOUR. Those two things I never intend to trouble my head about the theory of — I shall content myself with the practice —
HEARTFORT. With the practice of one, I dare swear.
MILLAMOUR. In my youth I believe I shall; and for being old, I desire it not. I would have the fires of life and love go out together. What is life worth without pleasure? And what pleasure is there out of the arms of a mistress? All other joys are dreams to that. Give me the fine, young, blooming girl, — cheeks blushing, — eyes sparkling. Give me her, Heartfort —
HEARTFORT. Take her with all my heart. Come, Mr. Brazen, you are to conduct me another way.
MILLAMOUR. You are too soon for Mrs. Useful’s appointment.
HEARTFORT. No matter — here is one coming I would avoid.
MILLAMOUR. Ha! your rival. Nay, you have no reason to be angry with him: you tell me he is as averse to the match as yourself: you cannot expect he should be disinterested out of complaisance.
HEARTFORT. It is for that reason I would avoid him. I am not master enough of my passions; besides, I hate lying and impertinenee; I can’t bear to hear a fellow run on with his intimacy with this duke and that lord, whom he has never spoke to, and, perhaps, never seen.
MILLAMOUR. A more innocent vanity at least than the boasting of favours from women, though with truth, as I have known some men of sense do; which is a vanity indulged at the expense of another’s reputation.
HEARTFORT. Faith, and I take the other to be equally as destructive of reputation; for I can’t see why it should more reflect on a woman to be great with a man of sense, than on a man of sense to be great with a fool.
MILLAMOUR. Pshaw! — thou art as serious in thy criticisms on life as a dull critic on the Drama. I prefer laughing sometimes at a farce and a fool to being entertained with the most regular performances, or the conversation of men of the best sense.
HEARTFORT. In my opinion, laughing at fools is engaging them at their own weapons; for a fool always laughs at those who laugh at him, nay, and oftener gets the laugh of his side, because there are in the world abundance of fools to one who is otherwise. In short, it is as dangerous to ridicule folly any where openly, as to speak against Mahometism in Turkey, or Popery in Home. But he is here — Goodmorrow.
SCENE III.
MILLAMOUR, HEARTFORT, MR. MUTABLE, BRAZEN.
MR. MUTABLE. Nay, ‘foregad, Heartfort, you shall not run away from me — Pox take your mistress, I would not lose a friend for all the sluts in town — Pshaw! they are plenty enough — If thou canst persuade my father off the match I did not care if the devil had her.
HEARTFORT. Harkye, sir, on your life, do not utter a profane word of her.
MR. MUTABLE. Well then, I wish you had her, or the devil had her — it’s equal to me. ‘Tis so difficult to please you — I must like her, and I must not like her.
MILLAMOUR. Ay, Mutable, to content a passionate lover is as difficult as to sail between Scylla and Charybdis: you must fall into one extreme or other.
HEARTFORT. Though I would have Charlotte only mine, yet I could not bear to hear her slighted by another.
MILLAMOUR. Well, Mutable, doth this early sally of yours proceed from having been in bed early, or from not being in bed at all?
MR. MUTABLE. Not at all, agad. — That Lord Bouncer is an everlasting sitter.
MILLAMOUR. Who had you with you?
MR. MUTABLE. There was myself, three lords, two baronets, four whores, and a justice of peace. His worship, indeed, did not sit late; he was obliged to go home at three to take a nap, to be sober at the sessions —
MILLAMOUR. And punish wickedness and debauchery.
MR. MUTABLE. Millamour, was you ever in company with my Lord Grig? — He is the merriest dog — We had such diversion between him and the Duke of Fleet Street — Ha, ha, ha! says the Duke to me — Jack Mutable, says he — ha, ha, ha; what do you think of my Lord Grig? Why, my Lord Duke, says I, what of my Lord Grig? Why, says my Lord Duke again, he is damnably in love with my Lady Piddle. — You know my Lady Piddle, Millamour — she is a
prude, you know; and that puts me in mind of what Sir John Gubble told me t’other day at White’s —
HEARTFORT. Death and damnation! This is insupportable. Come, Mr. Brazen —
SCENE IV.
MILLAMOUR, MR. MUTABLE.
MR. MUTABLE. White’s — Now I mention White’s, I must send an excuse to my Lord Goodland. He invited me two days ago, to dine with him to-day.
MILLAMOUR. Two days ago! — why he went into the country a week since.
MR. MUTABLE. Nay, then Sir Charles Wiseall was mistaken, for he delivered me the message yesterday; which is a little strange, methinks.
MILLAMOUR. Ay, faith, it is very strange; for he has been in Scotland this fortnight.
MR. MUTABLE. How!
MILLAMOUR. It is even so, I assure you.
MR. MUTABLE. Then, as sure as I am alive, I dreamt all this. Oh! but may I wish you joy yet? They tell me you are going to be married.
MILLAMOUR. Who told you so?
MR. MUTABLE. Hum! — that I can’t remember. It was either the Duchess of Holbourn, or Lady Chatter, or Lady Scramble, or —
MILLAMOUR. KO, you dreamt it; a sure sign it will not happen.
MR. MUTABLE. Heyday! Where’s Heartfort gone?
MILLAMOUR. He can’t bear a successful rival.
MR. MUTABLE. Poor devil! I pity him heartily. And I pity myself; for, I protest, I am as sorry at winning her as he can be at losing her.
MILLAMOUR. But, is there no way of persuading the old gentleman off?
MR. MUTABLE. Odd! here he comes. Pr’ythee, do try; let me call you my lord, and it will give you more weight with him; for he takes a lord to be as infallible as the pope.
MILLAMOUR. Ay, is he so fond of quality?
MR. MUTABLE. Oh! most passionately. You must know he hesitates even at this match on that account; nay, I believe, notwithstandiing her fortune, he would prefer a woman of quality for his daughter-in-law, though she was not worth a groat.
MILLAMOUR. Ha!’Sdeath! I have a thought — but mum — he’s here.
SCENE V.
MR. MUTABLE, YOUNG MUTABLE, MILLAMOUR.
MR. MUTABLE. Ha! Jacky, have I found you out at last?
It is so long since I was in town, I had almost lost myself.
But, harkye, — who’s that fine gentleman? hey!
YOUNG MUTABLE. Oh! one of the lords I told you I converse with — an intimate acquaintance of mine. I’ll introduce you to him, sir. My lord, this is my father, my lord —
MR. MUTABLE. At your lordship’s service, my lord.
MILLAMOUR. Sir, I am exceedingly glad to see you in town.
MR. MUTABLE. I am exceedingly obliged to your lordship — My lord, I am vastly unworthy so great an honour. Young Mutable. You will excuse my father, my lord: as he has lived in the country most of his time, he does not make quite so fine a bow as we do.
MR. MUTABLE. My son says true, my lord. I have lived most of my time in the country, the greater my misfortune, and my father’s crime, my lord. But, I thank my stars, my son cannot charge me with stinting his education. Alas! my lord, it must be done betimes. A man can never be sent into the world too soon. What can they learn at schools or universities? — No, no, I sent my boy to town at sixteen, and allowed him wherewithal to keep the best company. And, I thank my stars, I have lived to see him one of the finest gentlemen of his age.
YOUNG MUTABLE. Ah! dear sir, your most obedient humble servant.
MILLAMOUR. It is owing, sir, to such wise parents as you that the present age abounds with such fine gentlemen as it does. Our dull forefathers were either rough soldiers, pedantic scholars, or clownish farmers. And it was as difficult to find a fine gentleman among us then as it is a true Briton among us now.
MR. MUTABLE. I am very proud, my lord, to find my eon in such company as your lordship’s.
MILLAMOUR. Dear sir, the honour is on my side, I assure you.
MR. MUTABLE. ‘Sbud! Your men of quality are the civilest sort of people upon earth.
MILLAMOUR. And, I believe, my sister is of the same opinion.
YOUNG MUTABLE. His sister! — [Aside.
MR. MUTABLE. I am extremely bound to your good lordship.
MILLAMOUR. I see you are shy of speaking; but I do not at all think it beneath the honour of my house to marry into a worthy family with a competent estate, though there be no title.
MR. MUTABLE. My lord!
MILLAMOUR. And since my sister has condescended to receive the addresses of your son I shall not oppose the match.
MR. MUTABLE. I am surprised, my lord —
MILLAMOUR. Nay, sir, you cannot be surprised; for certainly Mr. Mutable has more honour than to have proceeded so far without acquainting you.
MR. MUTABLE. Oh, yes, my lord, he has acquainted me — Yes, my lord, I have been acquainted indeed — But the honour was so great that I could scarce believe it.
YOUNG MUTABLE. [Aside.] This is not the first woman I have been in love with, without seeing.
MR. MUTABLE. Oh, fie upon you, Jacky, why did you not tell me of this? — I’ll go break off the other match this moment. My lord, I cannot express the very grateful sentiments I have of this great honour, my lord —
MILLAMOUR. I shall be glad to see you at my house; in the meantime, Mr. Mutable may have as free access to my sister as he pleases.
YOUNG MUTABLE. Dear my lord, I am your most obedient humble servant.
MR. MUTABLE. I and mine, my lord, are eternally obliged to your goodness; and I hope my son is as sufficiently sensible as myself. I will just go do a little business, and, then, Jacky, I’ll come to this place, and you shall carry me to wait on his lordship. Be sure to be here, or I shall not be able to find you. In the meantime I am your lordship’s very obedient, devoted, humble servant, to command.
SCENE VI.
MILLAMOUR, YOUNG MUTABLE.
MILLAMOUR. Well, have I not managed the old gentleman finely?
YOUNG MUTABLE. Yes; but as my Lord Twitter says, how shall we carry it on?
MILLAMOUR. That I am thinking. Suppose I get somebody to personate my sister — I see your father is of a good, easy, credulous disposition, and not altogether so inflexible as your father-in-law —
YOUNG MUTABLE. No, hang him; he never kept a resolution two minutes in his life. He is the very picture of my Lord Shatterbrain; and you know my Lord Shatterbrain is very famous for breaking his word. I have made forty engagements with him and he never kept one; — then, the next time we met, — Jack Mutable, says he, I know you’ll pardon me — I have such a memory — but there’s Sir George Goose has just such another too — but George is a comical dog, that’s the truth on’t — There was he, and I, and the duke —
MILLAMOUR. Harkye, I have thought how the thing shall be conducted. Heartfort’s house shall pass for mine; thither do you bring your father; you shall find a lady ready to receive you. But you must remember to behave to her as if you were old acquaintance. I will instruct her how to answer you. So, go now, and expect your father, and remember to give me the title of Lord Truelove.
YOUNG MUTABLE. Agad, I dined with Sir John Truelove about four days ago; and how many bottles do you think we sat?
MILLAMOUR. Twenty dozen, if you will.
YOUNG MUTABLE. No, faith, not that — not that quite. I bought off four to my own share though: and so drunk was my Lord Puzzle — ha, ha, ha! and so mad —
MILLAMOUR. But if thou art not quite drunk or mad thyself, pr’ythee do mind thy business; for if you stay one moment longer I’ll fling up the affair.
YOUNG MUTABLE. I go, I go. My Lord Truelove, your servant.’Foregad, Sir John is one of the merriest dogs in Christendom.
SCENE VII.
MILLAMOUR. [Solus.] Go thy Tray, Guillim displayed — Thou catalogue of the nobility— ‘Sdeath, I fancy ‘Tis the vanity of such fools as this that makes men proud of a title, without any other merit. Now, if I can but match this spark with my Northumberland cousin, I shall handsomely be quit of a troublesome relation —
And, faith, I think the arms of a rich fool are a sort of hospital, proper to every woman who has worn out her reputation in the service.
SCENE VIII
MR. STEDFAST’S House.
CHARLOTTE, speaking to MRS. USEFUL, who goes out and returns with HEARTFORT.
CHARLOTTE. Well, well, tell the wretch I will see him, to give him another final answer, since he will have it. Poor creature! how little he suspects who is his rival! — Oh! Millamour, thou hast given this heart of mine more sighs in one week than it ever felt before — nay, than it hath ever made any other feel. How shall I let him know my passion, or how avoid this match intended for me by my father! Well, sir, how often must I tell you, I won’t have you, I can’t have you?
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 356
