Delphi Complete Works of Richard Brinsley Sheridan

by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

  SIR BENJAMIN. O fie, Uncle!

  CRABTREE. Nay egad it’s true — I back him at a Rebus or a Charade against the best Rhymer in the Kingdom — has your Ladyship heard the Epigram he wrote last week on Lady Frizzle’s Feather catching Fire — Do Benjamin repeat it — or the Charade you made last Night extempore at Mrs. Drowzie’s conversazione — Come now your first is the Name of a Fish, your second a great naval commander — and

  SIR BENJAMIN. Dear Uncle — now — prithee ——

  CRABTREE. Efaith, Ma’am— ’twould surprise you to hear how ready he is at all these Things.

  LADY SNEERWELL. I wonder Sir Benjamin you never publish anything.

  SIR BENJAMIN. To say truth, Ma’am, ’tis very vulgar to Print and as my little Productions are mostly Satires and Lampoons I find they circulate more by giving copies in confidence to the Friends of the Parties — however I have some love-Elegies, which, when favoured with this lady’s smile I mean to give to the Public.

  [Pointing to MARIA.]

  CRABTREE. ‘Fore Heaven, ma’am, they’ll immortalize you — you’ll be handed down to Posterity, like Petrarch’s Laura, or Waller’s Sacharissa.

  SIR BENJAMIN. Yes Madam I think you will like them — when you shall see in a beautiful Quarto Page how a neat rivulet of Text shall meander thro’ a meadow of margin— ‘fore Gad, they will be the most elegant Things of their kind —

  CRABTREE. But Ladies, have you heard the news?

  MRS. CANDOUR. What, Sir, do you mean the Report of ——

  CRABTREE. No ma’am that’s not it. — Miss Nicely is going to be married to her own Footman.

  MRS. CANDOUR. Impossible!

  CRABTREE. Ask Sir Benjamin.

  SIR BENJAMIN. ’Tis very true, Ma’am — everything is fixed and the wedding Livery bespoke.

  CRABTREE. Yes and they say there were pressing reasons for’t.

  MRS. CANDOUR. It cannot be — and I wonder any one should believe such a story of so prudent a Lady as Miss Nicely.

  SIR BENJAMIN. O Lud! ma’am, that’s the very reason ’twas believed at once. She has always been so cautious and so reserved, that everybody was sure there was some reason for it at bottom.

  LADY SNEERWELL. Yes a Tale of Scandal is as fatal to the Reputation of a prudent Lady of her stamp as a Fever is generally to those of the strongest Constitutions, but there is a sort of puny sickly Reputation, that is always ailing yet will outlive the robuster characters of a hundred Prudes.

  SIR BENJAMIN. True Madam there are Valetudinarians in Reputation as well as constitution — who being conscious of their weak Part, avoid the least breath of air, and supply their want of Stamina by care and circumspection —

  MRS. CANDOUR. Well but this may be all mistake — You know, Sir Benjamin very trifling circumstances often give rise to the most injurious Tales.

  CRABTREE. That they do I’ll be sworn Ma’am — did you ever hear how Miss Shepherd came to lose her Lover and her Character last summer at Tunbridge — Sir Benjamin you remember it —

  SIR BENJAMIN. O to be sure the most whimsical circumstance —

  LADY SNEERWELL. How was it Pray —

  CRABTREE. Why one evening at Mrs. Ponto’s Assembly — the conversation happened to turn on the difficulty of breeding Nova-Scotia Sheep in this country — says a young Lady in company[, “]I have known instances of it[ — ]for Miss Letitia Shepherd, a first cousin of mine, had a Nova-Scotia Sheep that produced her Twins.[“— “]What![“] cries the old Dowager Lady Dundizzy (who you know is as deaf as a Post), [“]has Miss Letitia Shepherd had twins[“] — This Mistake — as you may imagine, threw the whole company into a fit of Laughing — However ’twas the next morning everywhere reported and in a few Days believed by the whole Town, that Miss Letitia Shepherd had actually been brought to Bed of a fine Boy and Girl — and in less than a week there were People who could name the Father, and the Farm House where the Babies were put out to Nurse.

  LADY SNEERWELL. Strange indeed!

  CRABTREE. Matter of Fact, I assure you — O Lud! Mr. Surface pray is it true that your uncle Sir Oliver is coming home —

  SURFACE. Not that I know of indeed Sir.

  CRABTREE. He has been in the East Indies a long time — you can scarcely remember him — I believe — sad comfort on his arrival to hear how your Brother has gone on!

  SURFACE. Charles has been imprudent Sir to be sure[;] but I hope no Busy people have already prejudiced Sir Oliver against him — He may reform —

  SIR BENJAMIN. To be sure He may — for my Part I never believed him to be so utterly void of Principle as People say — and tho’ he has lost all his Friends I am told nobody is better spoken of — by the Jews.

  CRABTREE. That’s true egad nephew — if the Old Jewry was a Ward I believe Charles would be an alderman — no man more popular there, ‘fore Gad I hear He pays as many annuities as the Irish Tontine and that whenever He’s sick they have Prayers for the recovery of his Health in the synagogue —

  SIR BENJAMIN. Yet no man lives in greater Splendour: — they tell me when He entertains his Friends — He can sit down to dinner with a dozen of his own Securities, have a score Tradesmen waiting in the Anti-Chamber, and an officer behind every guest’s Chair.

  SURFACE. This may be entertainment to you Gentlemen but you pay very little regard to the Feelings of a Brother.

  MARIA. Their malice is intolerable — Lady Sneerwell I must wish you a good morning — I’m not very well.

  [Exit MARIA.]

  MRS. CANDOUR. O dear she chang’d colour very much!

  LADY SNEERWELL. Do Mrs. Candour follow her — she may want assistance.

  MRS. CANDOUR. That I will with all my soul ma’am. — Poor dear Girl — who knows — what her situation may be!

  [Exit MRS. CANDOUR.]

  LADY SNEERWELL. ’Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear Charles reflected on notwithstanding their difference.

  SIR BENJAMIN. The young Lady’s Penchant is obvious.

  CRABTREE. But Benjamin — you mustn’t give up the Pursuit for that — follow her and put her into good humour — repeat her some of your verses — come, I’ll assist you —

  SIR BENJAMIN. Mr. Surface I did not mean to hurt you — but depend on’t your Brother is utterly undone —

  [Going.]

  CRABTREE. O Lud! aye — undone — as ever man was — can’t raise a guinea.

  SIR BENJAMIN. And everything sold — I’m told — that was movable —

  [Going.]

  CRABTREE. I was at his house — not a thing left but some empty Bottles that were overlooked and the Family Pictures, which I believe are framed in the Wainscot.

  [Going.]

  SIR BENJAMIN. And I’m very sorry to hear also some bad stories against him.

  [Going.]

  CRABTREE. O He has done many mean things — that’s certain!

  SIR BENJAMIN. But however as He is your Brother ——

  [Going.]

  CRABTREE. We’ll tell you all another opportunity.

  [Exeunt.]

  LADY SNEERWELL. Ha! ha! ha! ’tis very hard for them to leave a subject they have not quite run down.

  SURFACE. And I believe the Abuse was no more acceptable to your Ladyship than Maria.

  LADY SNEERWELL. I doubt her Affections are farther engaged than we imagin’d but the Family are to be here this Evening so you may as well dine where you are and we shall have an opportunity of observing farther — in the meantime, I’ll go and plot Mischief and you shall study Sentiments.

  [Exeunt.]

  SCENE II.

  SIR PETER’S House

  Enter SIR PETER

  SIR PETER. When an old Bachelor takes a young Wife — what is He to expect— ’Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men — and I have been the most miserable Dog ever since that ever committed wedlock. We tift a little going to church — and came to a Quarrel before the Bells had done ringing — I was more than once nearly chok’d with gall during th
e Honeymoon — and had lost all comfort in Life before my Friends had done wishing me Joy — yet I chose with caution — a girl bred wholly in the country — who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown — nor dissipation above the annual Gala of a Race-Ball — Yet she now plays her Part in all the extravagant Fopperies of the Fashion and the Town, with as ready a Grace as if she had never seen a Bush nor a grass Plot out of Grosvenor-Square! I am sneered at by my old acquaintance — paragraphed — in the news Papers — She dissipates my Fortune, and contradicts all my Humours — yet the worst of it is I doubt I love her or I should never bear all this. However I’ll never be weak enough to own it.

  Enter ROWLEY

  ROWLEY. Sir Peter, your servant: — how is ‘t with you Sir —

  SIR PETER. Very bad — Master Rowley — very bad[.] I meet with nothing but crosses and vexations —

  ROWLEY. What can have happened to trouble you since yesterday?

  SIR PETER. A good — question to a married man —

  ROWLEY. Nay I’m sure your Lady Sir Peter can’t be the cause of your uneasiness.

  SIR PETER. Why has anybody told you she was dead[?]

  ROWLEY. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your tempers do not exactly agree.

  SIR PETER. But the Fault is entirely hers, Master Rowley — I am myself, the sweetest temper’d man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so I tell her a hundred Times a day —

  ROWLEY. Indeed!

  SIR PETER. Aye and what is very extraordinary in all our disputes she is always in the wrong! But Lady Sneerwell, and the Set she meets at her House, encourage the perverseness of her Disposition — then to complete my vexations — Maria — my Ward — whom I ought to have the Power of a Father over, is determined to turn Rebel too and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for her husband — meaning I suppose, to bestow herself on his profligate Brother.

  ROWLEY. You know Sir Peter I have always taken the Liberty to differ with you on the subject of these two young Gentlemen — I only wish you may not be deceived in your opinion of the elder. For Charles, my life on’t! He will retrieve his errors yet — their worthy Father, once my honour’d master, was at his years nearly as wild a spark.

  SIR PETER. You are wrong, Master Rowley — on their Father’s Death you know I acted as a kind of Guardian to them both — till their uncle Sir Oliver’s Eastern Bounty gave them an early independence. Of course no person could have more opportunities of judging of their Hearts — and I was never mistaken in my life. Joseph is indeed a model for the young men of the Age — He is a man of Sentiment — and acts up to the Sentiments he professes — but for the other[,] take my word for’t [if] he had any grain of Virtue by descent — he has dissipated it with the rest of his inheritance. Ah! my old Friend, Sir Oliver will be deeply mortified when he finds how Part of his Bounty has been misapplied.

  ROWLEY. I am sorry to find you so violent against the young man because this may be the most critical Period of his Fortune. I came hither with news that will surprise you.

  SIR PETER. What! let me hear —

  ROWLEY. Sir Oliver is arrived and at this moment in Town.

  SIR PETER. How! — you astonish me — I thought you did not expect him this month! —

  ROWLEY. I did not — but his Passage has been remarkably quick.

  SIR PETER. Egad I shall rejoice to see my old Friend— ’Tis sixteen years since we met — We have had many a Day together — but does he still enjoin us not to inform his Nephews of his Arrival?

  ROWLEY. Most strictly — He means, before He makes it known to make some trial of their Dispositions and we have already planned something for the purpose.

  SIR PETER. Ah there needs no art to discover their merits — however he shall have his way — but pray does he know I am married!

  ROWLEY. Yes and will soon wish you joy.

  SIR PETER. You may tell him ’tis too late — ah Oliver will laugh at me — we used to rail at matrimony together — but He has been steady to his Text — well He must be at my house tho’ — I’ll instantly give orders for his Reception — but Master Rowley — don’t drop a word that Lady Teazle and I ever disagree.

  ROWLEY. By no means.

  SIR PETER. For I should never be able to stand Noll’s jokes; so I’d have him think that we are a very happy couple.

  ROWLEY. I understand you — but then you must be very careful not to differ while He’s in the House with you.

  SIR PETER. Egad — and so we must — that’s impossible. Ah! Master Rowley when an old Batchelor marries a young wife — He deserves — no the crime carries the Punishment along with it.

  [Exeunt.]

  END OF THE FIRST ACT

  ACT II

  SCENE I.

  SIR PETER and LADY TEAZLE

  SIR PETER. Lady Teazle — Lady Teazle I’ll not bear it.

  LADY TEAZLE. Sir Peter — Sir Peter you — may scold or smile, according to your Humour[,] but I ought to have my own way in everything, and what’s more I will too — what! tho’ I was educated in the country I know very well that women of Fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.

  SIR PETER. Very well! ma’am very well! so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

  LADY TEAZLE. Authority! no, to be sure — if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me and not married me[:] I am sure you were old enough.

  SIR PETER. Old enough — aye there it is — well — well — Lady Teazle, tho’ my life may be made unhappy by your Temper — I’ll not be ruined by your extravagance —

  LADY TEAZLE. My extravagance! I’m sure I’m not more extravagant than a woman of Fashion ought to be.

  SIR PETER. No no Madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning Luxury— ‘Slife to spend as much to furnish your Dressing Room with Flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a Greenhouse, and give a Fete Champetre at Christmas.

  LADY TEAZLE. Lord! Sir Peter am I to blame because Flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the Climate, and not with me. For my Part I’m sure I wish it was spring all the year round — and that Roses grew under one’s Feet!

  SIR PETER. Oons! Madam — if you had been born to those Fopperies I shouldn’t wonder at your talking thus; — but you forget what your situation was when I married you —

  LADY TEAZLE. No, no, I don’t— ’twas a very disagreeable one or I should never nave married you.

  SIR PETER. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler Style — the daughter of a plain country Squire. Recollect Lady Teazle when I saw you first — sitting at your tambour in a pretty figured linen gown — with a Bunch of Keys at your side, and your apartment hung round with Fruits in worsted, of your own working —

  LADY TEAZLE. O horrible! — horrible! — don’t put me in mind of it!

  SIR PETER. Yes, yes Madam and your daily occupation to inspect the Dairy, superintend the Poultry, make extracts from the Family Receipt-book, and comb your aunt Deborah’s Lap Dog.

  LADY TEAZLE. Abominable!

  SIR PETER. Yes Madam — and what were your evening amusements? to draw Patterns for Ruffles, which you hadn’t the materials to make — play Pope Joan with the Curate — to read a sermon to your Aunt — or be stuck down to an old Spinet to strum your father to sleep after a Fox Chase.

  LADY TEAZLE. Scandalous — Sir Peter not a word of it true —

  SIR PETER. Yes, Madam — These were the recreations I took you from — and now — no one more extravagantly in the Fashion — Every Fopery adopted — a head-dress to o’er top Lady Pagoda with feathers pendant horizontal and perpendicular — you forget[,] Lady Teazle — when a little wired gauze with a few Beads made you a fly Cap not much bigger than a blew-bottle, and your Hair was comb’d smooth over a Roll —

  LADY TEAZLE. Shocking! horrible Roll!!

  SIR PETER. But now — you must have your coach — Vis-a-vis, and three powder’d Footmen before your Chair — and in t
he summer a pair of white cobs to draw you to Kensington Gardens — no recollection when y ou were content to ride double, behind the Butler, on a docked Coach-Horse?

  LADY TEAZLE. Horrid! — I swear I never did.

  SIR PETER. This, madam, was your situation — and what have I not done for you? I have made you woman of Fashion of Fortune of Rank — in short I have made you my wife.

  LADY TEAZLE. Well then and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation.

  SIR PETER. What’s that pray?

  LADY TEAZLE. Your widow. —

  SIR PETER. Thank you Madam — but don’t flatter yourself for though your ill-conduct may disturb my Peace it shall never break my Heart I promise you — however I am equally obliged to you for the Hint.

  LADY TEAZLE. Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me — and thwart me in every little elegant expense.

  SIR PETER. ‘Slife — Madam I pray, had you any of these elegant expenses when you married me?

  LADY TEAZLE. Lud Sir Peter would you have me be out of the Fashion?

  SIR PETER. The Fashion indeed! — what had you to do with the Fashion before you married me?

  LADY TEAZLE. For my Part — I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of Taste —

  SIR PETER. Aye there again — Taste! Zounds Madam you had no Taste when you married me —

  LADY TEAZLE. That’s very true indeed Sir Peter! after having married you I should never pretend to Taste again I allow.

  SIR PETER. So — so then — Madam — if these are your Sentiments pray how came I to be honour’d with your Hand?

  LADY TEAZLE. Shall I tell you the Truth?

  SIR PETER. If it’s not too great a Favour.

  LADY TEAZLE. Why the Fact is I was tired of all those agreeable Recreations which you have so good naturally [naturedly] Described — and having a Spirit to spend and enjoy a Fortune — I determined to marry the first rich man that would have me.

  SIR PETER. A very honest confession — truly — but pray madam was there no one else you might have tried to ensnare but me.

  LADY TEAZLE. O lud — I drew my net at several but you were the only one I could catch.