Miss Hoyd. That’s my best nurse; do as you’d be done by.
Trust us together this once, and if I don’t show my breeding, I wish I may never be married, but die an old maid.
Nurse. Well, this once I’ll venture you. But if you disparage me —
Miss Hoyd. Never fear. [Exit NURSE.]
Enter TOM FASHION.
Fash. Your servant, madam; I’m glad to find you alone, for I have something of importance to speak to you about.
Miss Hoyd. Sir (my lord, I meant), you may speak to me about what you please, I shall give you a civil answer.
Fash. You give so obliging an one, it encourages me to tell you in a few words what I think, both for your interest and mine. Your father, I suppose you know, has resolved to make me happy in being your husband; and I hope I may obtain your consent to perform what he desires.
Miss Hoyd. Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but eating green gooseberries.
Fash. So good a daughter must needs be an admirable wife. I am therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the violence of my love, that you won’t have the cruelty to defer my happiness so long as your father designs it.
Miss Hoyd. Pray, my lord, how long is that?
Fash. Madam, a thousand years — a whole week.
Miss Hoyd. Why, I thought it was to be to-morrow morning, as soon as I was up. I’m sure nurse told me so.
Fash. And it shall be to-morrow morning, if you’ll consent.
Miss Hoyd. If I’ll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my husband.
Fash. That’s when we are married. Till then, I’m to obey you.
Miss Hoyd. Why then, if we are to take it by turns, it’s the same thing. I’ll obey you now, and when we are married you shall obey me.
Fash. With all my heart. But I doubt we must get nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the chaplain.
Miss Hoyd. No more we shan’t, indeed; for he loves her better than he loves his pulpit, and would always be a-preaching to her by his good will.
Fash. Why then, my dear, if you’ll call her hither we’ll persuade her presently.
Miss Hoyd. O Lud! I’ll tell you a way how to persuade her to anything.
Fash. How’s that?
Miss Hoyd. Why tell her she’s a handsome comely woman, and give her half a crown.
Fash. Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of
’em.
Miss Hoyd. O gemini! for half that she’d marry you herself. — I’ll run and call her. [Exit.]
Fash. So! matters go on swimmingly. This is a rare girl, i’faith. I shall have a fine time on’t with her at London.
Enter LORY.
So, Lory, what’s the matter?
Lory. Here, sir — an intercepted packet from the enemy; your brother’s postilion brought it. I knew the livery, pretended to be a servant of Sir Tunbelly’s, and so got possession of the letter.
Fash. [Looks at the letter.] Ouns! he tells Sir Tunbelly here that he will be with him this evening, with a large party to supper. — Egad, I must marry the girl directly.
Lory. Oh, zounds, sir, directly to be sure. Here she comes. [Exit.]
Fash. And the old Jezebel with her.
Re-enter MISS HOYDEN and NURSE.
How do you do, good Mrs. Nurse? I desired your young lady would give me leave to see you, that I might thank you for your extraordinary care and kind conduct in her education: pray accept this small acknowledgment for it at present, and depend upon my further kindness when I shall be that happy thing, her husband.
[Gives her money.]
Nurse. [Aside.] Gold, by the maakins! —
[Aloud.] Your honour’s goodness is too great. Alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her pure and good milk, and so your honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing thrived, and how it would look up in my face, and crow and laugh, it would.
Miss Hoyd. [To NURSE, taking her angrily aside.] Pray, one word with you. Pr’ythee, nurse, don’t stand ripping up old stories, to make one ashamed before one’s love. Do you think such a fine proper gentleman as he is cares for a fiddlecome tale of a child? If you have a mind to make him have a good opinion of a woman, don’t tell him what one did then, tell him what one can do now. — [To Tom FASHION.] I hope your honour will excuse my mis-manners to whisper before you. It was only to give some orders about the family.
Fash. Oh, everything, madam, is to give way to business; besides, good housewifery is a very commendable quality in a young lady.
Miss Hoyd. Pray, sir, are young ladies good housewives at
London-town? Do they darn their own linen?
Fash. Oh no, they study how to spend money, not to save.
Miss Hoyd. Ecod, I don’t know but that may be better sport, eh, nurse?
Fash. Well, you have your choice, when you come there.
Miss Hoyd. Shall I? then, by my troth, I’ll get there as fast as I can. — [To NURSE.] His honour desires you’ll be so kind as to let us be married to-morrow.
Nurse. To-morrow, my dear madam?
Fash. Ay, faith, nurse, you may well be surprised at miss’s wanting to put it off so long. To-morrow! no, no; ’tis now, this very hour, I would have the ceremony performed.
Miss Hoyd. Ecod, with all my heart.
Nurse. O mercy! worse and worse!
Fash. Yes, sweet nurse, now and privately; for all things being signed and sealed, why should Sir Tunbelly make us stay a week for a wedding-dinner?
Nurse. But if you should be married now, what will you do when Sir Tunbelly calls for you to be married?
Miss Hoyd. Why then we will be married again.
Nurse. What twice, my child?
Miss Hoyd. Ecod, I don’t care how often I’m married, not I.
Nurse. Well, I’m such a tender-hearted fool, I find I can refuse you nothing. So you shall e’en follow your own inventions.
Miss Hoyd. Shall I? O Lord, I could leap over the moon!
Fash. Dear nurse, this goodness of yours shall be still more rewarded. But now you must employ your power with the chaplain, that he may do this friendly office too, and then we shall be all happy. Do you think you can prevail with him?
Nurse. Prevail with him! or he shall never prevail with me, I can tell him that.
Fash. I’m glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your interest with him, you may let him know I have several fat livings in my gift, and that the first that falls shall be in your disposal.
Nurse. Nay, then, I’ll make him marry more folks than one,
I’ll promise him!
Miss Hoyd. Faith, do, nurse, make him marry you too; I’m sure he’ll do’t for a fat living.
Fash. Well, nurse, while you go and settle matters with him, your lady and I will go and take a walk in the garden. —
[Exit NURSE.] Come, madam, dare you venture yourself alone with me? [Takes MISS HOYDEN by the hand.]
Miss Hoyd. Oh dear, yes, sir; I don’t think you’ll do anythink to me, I need be afraid on. [Exeunt.]
SCENE II.
AMANDA’s Dressing-room.
Enter AMANDA followed by her MAID.
Maid. If you please, madam, only to say whether you’ll have me buy them or not?
Aman. Yes — no — Go, teaser; I care not what you do.
Pr’ythee, leave me. [Exit MAID.]
Enter BERINTHIA.
Ber. What, in the name of Jove, is the matter with you?
Aman. The matter, Berinthia! I’m almost mad; I’m plagued to death.
Ber. Who is it that plagues you?
Aman. Who do you think should plague a wife but her husband?
Ber. O, ho! is it come to that? — We shall have you wish yourself a widow, by-and-by.
Aman. Would I were anything but what I am! A base, ungrateful man, to use me thus!
Ber. What, has he given you fresh reason to suspect his wandering?
Aman. Every hour gives me reason.
Ber. And yet, Amanda,
you perhaps at this moment cause in another’s breast the same tormenting doubts and jealousies which you feel so sensibly yourself.
Aman. Heaven knows I would not.
Ber. Why, you can’t tell but there may be some one as tenderly attached to Townly, whom you boast of as your conquest, as you can be to your husband?
Aman. I’m sure, I never encouraged his pretensions.
Ber. Psha! psha! no sensible man ever perseveres to love without encouragement. Why have you not treated him as you have
Lord Foppington?
Aman. Because he presumed not so far. But let us drop the subject. Men, not women, are riddles. Mr. Loveless now follows some flirt for variety, whom I’m sure he does not like so well as he does me.
Ber. That’s more than you know, madam.
Aman. Why, do you know the ugly thing?
Ber. I think I can guess at the person; but she’s no such ugly thing neither.
Aman. Is she very handsome?
Ber. Truly I think so.
Aman. Whate’er she be, I’m sure he does not like her well enough to bestow anything more than a little outward gallantry upon her.
Ber. [Aside.] Outward gallantry! I can’t bear this. —
[Aloud.] Come, come, don’t you be too secure, Amanda: while you suffer Townly to imagine that you do not detest him for his designs on you, you have no right to complain that your husband is engaged elsewhere. But here comes the person we were speaking of.
Enter COLONEL TOWNLY.
Col. Town. Ladies, as I come uninvited, I beg, if I intrude, you will use the same freedom in turning me out again.
Aman. I believe it is near the time Loveless said he would be at home. He talked of accepting Lord Foppington’s invitation to sup at Sir Tunbelly Clumsy’s.
Col. Town. His lordship has done me the honour to invite me also. If you’ll let me escort you, I’ll let you into a mystery as we go, in which you must play a part when we arrive.
Aman. But we have two hours yet to spare; the carriages are not ordered till eight, and it is not a five minutes’ drive.
So, cousin, let us keep the colonel to play at piquet with us, till Mr. Loveless comes home.
Ber. As you please, madam; but you know I have a letter to write.
Col. Town. Madam, you know you may command me, though I am a very wretched gamester.
Aman. Oh, you play well enough to lose your money, and that’s all the ladies require; and so, without any more ceremony, let us go into the next room, and call for cards and candles.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III.
BERINTHIA’S Dressing-room.
Enter LOVELESS.
Love. So, thus far all’s well: I have got into her dressing-room, and it being dusk, I think nobody has perceived me steal into the house. I heard Berinthia tell my wife she had some particular letters to write this evening, before she went to Sir
Tunbelly’s, and here are the implements of correspondence. — How shall I muster up assurance to show myself, when she comes? I think she has given me encouragement; and, to do my impudence justice, I have made the most of it. — I hear a door open, and some one coming. If it should be my wife, what the devil should I say? I believe she mistrusts me, and, by my life, I don’t deserve her tenderness. However, I am determined to reform, though not yet. Ha! Berinthia! — So, I’ll step in here, till I see what sort of humour she is in. [Goes into the closet.]
Enter BERINTHIA.
Ber. Was ever so provoking a situation! To think I should sit and hear him compliment Amanda to my face! I have lost all patience with them both! I would not for something have Loveless know what temper of mind they have piqued me into; yet I can’t bear to leave them together. No, I’ll put my papers away, and return, to disappoint them. — [Goes to the closet.] — O
Lord! a ghost! a ghost! a ghost!
Re-enter LOVELESS.
Love. Peace, my angel; it’s no ghost, but one worth a hundred spirits.
Ber. How, sir, have you had the insolence to presume to — run in again; here’s somebody coming. [LOVELESS goes into the closet.]
Enter MAID.
Maid. O Lord, ma’am, what’s the matter?
Ber. O Heavens! I’m almost frightened out of my wits! I thought verily I had seen a ghost, and ’twas nothing but a black hood pinned against the wall. You may go again; I am the fearfullest fool! [Exit MAID.]
Re-enter LOVELESS.
Love. Is the coast clear?
Ber. The coast clear! Upon my word, I wonder at your assurance.
Love. Why, then, you wonder before I have given you a proof of it. But where’s my wife?
Ber. At cards.
Love. With whom?
Ber. With Townly.
Love. Then we are safe enough.
Ber. You are so! Some husbands would be of another mind, were he at cards with their wives.
Love. And they’d be in the right on’t, too; but I dare trust mine.
Ber. Indeed! and she, I doubt not, has the same confidence in you. Yet, do you think she’d be content to come and find you here?
Love. Egad, as you say, that’s true! — Then for fear she should come, hadn’t we better go into the next room, out of her way?
Ber. What, in the dark?
Love. Ay, or with a light, which you please.
Ber. You are certainly very impudent.
Love. Nay, then — let me conduct you, my angel!
Ber. Hold, hold! you are mistaken in your angel, I assure you.
Love. I hope not; for by this hand I swear —
Ber. Come, come, let go my hand, or I shall hate you! —
I’ll cry out, as I live!
Love. Impossible! you cannot be so cruel.
Ber. Ha! here’s some one coming. Begone instantly.
Love. Will you promise to return, if I remain here?
Ber. Never trust myself in a room again with you while I live.
Love. But I have something particular to communicate to you.
Ber. Well, well, before we go to Sir Tunbelly’s, I’ll walk upon the lawn. If you are fond of a moonlight evening, you’ll find me there.
Love. I’faith, they’re coming here now! I take you at your word. [Exit into the closet.]
Ber. ’Tis Amanda, as I live! I hope she has not heard his voice; though I mean she should have her share of jealousy in her turn.
Enter AMANDA.
Aman. Berinthia, why did you leave me?
Ber. I thought I only spoiled your party.
Aman. Since you have been gone, Townly has attempted to renew his importunities. I must break with him, for I cannot venture to acquaint Mr. Loveless with his conduct.
Ber. Oh, no! Mr. Loveless mustn’t know of it by any means.
Aman. Oh, not for the world — I wish, Berinthia, you would undertake to speak to Townly on the subject.
Ber. Upon my word, it would be a very pleasant subject for me to talk upon! But, come, let us go back; and you may depend on’t I’ll not leave you together again, if I can help it.
[Exeunt.]
Re-enter LOVELESS.
Love. So — so! a pretty piece of business I have overheard!
Townly makes love to my wife, and I am not to know it for all the world. I must inquire into this — and, by Heaven, if I find that
Amanda has, in the smallest degree — yet what have I been at here! — Oh, ‘sdeath! that’s no rule.
That wife alone unsullied credit wins,
Whose virtues can atone her husband’s sins,
Thus, while the man has other nymphs in view,
It suits the woman to be doubly true.
[Exit.]
ACT V.
SCENE I.
The Garden behind LOVELESS’s Lodgings.
Enter LOVELESS.
Love. Now, does she mean to make a fool of me, or not! I shan’t wait much longer, for my wife will soon be inquiring for me to set out on our supping party. Suspense is at all times the devil, but of all modes of suspense, t
he watching for a loitering mistress is the worst. — But let me accuse her no longer; she approaches with one smile to o’erpay the anxieties of a year.
Enter BERINTHIA.
O Berinthia, what a world of kindness are you in my debt! had you stayed five minutes longer —
Ber. You would have gone, I suppose?
Love. Egad, she’s right enough. [Aside.]
Ber. And I assure you ’twas ten to one that I came at all. In short, I begin to think you are too dangerous a being to trifle with; and as I shall probably only make a fool of you at last, I believe we had better let matters rest as they are.
Love. You cannot mean it, sure?
Ber. What more would you have me give to a married man?
Love. How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes!
Ber. A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as
Amanda?
Love. I grant her all her merit, but— ‘sdeath! now see what you have done by talking of her — she’s here, by all that’s unlucky, and Townly with her. — I’ll observe them.
Ber. O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should feel as awkward to meet her as you.
Love. Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way also. I must see a little into this matter. [Steps aside.]
Ber. Oh, if that’s your intention, I am no woman if I suffer myself to be outdone in curiosity. [Goes on the other side.]
Enter AMANDA.
Aman. Mr. Loveless come home, and walking on the lawn! I will not suffer him to walk so late, though perhaps it is to show his neglect of me. — Mr. Loveless, I must speak with you. — Ha!
Townly again! — How I am persecuted!
Enter COLONEL TOWNLY.
Col. Town. Madam, you seem disturbed.
Aman. Sir, I have reason.
Col. Town. Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it were in my power to bear the pain, or to remove the malady.
Aman. Your interference can only add to my distress.
Col. Town. Ah, madam, if it be the sting of unrequited love you suffer from, seek for your remedy in revenge: weigh well the strength and beauty of your charms, and rouse up that spirit a woman ought to bear. Disdain the false embraces of a husband.
Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan Page 23
