ACT V.
SCENE I.—The Garden behind LOVELESS’s Lodgings.
Enter LOVELESS.
LOVELESS.
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, the
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—
BERINTHIA.
You would have gone, I suppose?
LOVELESS.
Egad, she’s right enough. [Aside.]
BERINTHIA.
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.
LOVELESS.
You cannot mean it, sure?
BERINTHIA.
What more would you have me give to a married man?
LOVELESS.
How doubly cruel to remind me of my misfortunes!
BERINTHIA.
A misfortune to be married to so charming a woman as Amanda?
LOVELESS.
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.
BERINTHIA.
O Gad, we had better get out of the way; for I should feel as awkward to meet
her as you.
LOVELESS.
Ay, if I mistake not, I see Townly coming this way also. I must see a little
into this matter. [Steps aside.]
BERINTHIA.
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.
AMANDA.
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.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Madam, you seem disturbed.
AMANDA.
Sir, I have reason.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Whatever be the cause, I would to Heaven it were in my power to bear the pain,
or to remove the malady.
AMANDA.
Your interference can only add to my distress.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
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.
See at your feet a real lover; his zeal may give him title to your pity,
although his merit cannot claim your love.
LOVELESS.
So, so, very fine, i’faith! [Aside.]
AMANDA.
Why do you presume to talk to me thus? Is this your friendship to Mr. Loveless?
I perceive you will compel me at last to acquaint him with your treachery.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
He could not upbraid me if you were.—He deserves it from me; for he has
not been more false to you than faithless to me.
AMANDA.
To you?
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Yes, madam; the lady for whom he now deserts those charms which he was never
worthy of, was mine by right; and, I imagine too, by inclination. Yes, madam,
Berinthia, who now—
AMANDA.
Berinthia! Impossible!
COLONEL TOWNLY.
’Tis true, or may I never merit your attention. She is the deceitful
sorceress who now holds your husband’s heart in bondage.
AMANDA.
I will not believe it.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
By the faith of a true lover, I speak from conviction. This very day I saw them
together, and overheard—
AMANDA.
Peace, sir! I will not even listen to such slander—this is a poor device
to work on my resentment, to listen to your insidious addresses. No, sir;
though Mr. Loveless may be capable of error, I am convinced I cannot be
deceived so grossly in him as to believe what you now report; and for
Berinthia, you should have fixed on some more probable person for my rival than
her who is my relation and my friend: for while I am myself free from guilt, I
will never believe that love can beget injury, or confidence create
ingratitude.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
If I do not prove to you—
AMANDA.
You never shall have an opportunity. From the artful manner in which you first
showed yourself to me, I might have been led, as far as virtue permitted, to
have thought you less criminal than unhappy; but this last unmanly artifice
merits at once my resentment and contempt. [Exit.]
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Sure there’s divinity about her; and she has dispensed some portion of
honour’s light to me: yet can I bear to lose Berinthia without revenge or
compensation? Perhaps she is not so culpable as I thought her. I was mistaken
when I began to think lightly of Amanda’s virtue, and may be in my
censure of my Berinthia. Surely I love her still, for I feel I should be happy
to find myself in the wrong. [Exit.]
Re-enter LOVELESS and BERINTHIA.
BERINTHIA.
Your servant, Mr. Loveless.
LOVELESS.
Your servant, madam.
BERINTHIA.
Pray what do you think of this?
LOVELESS.
Truly, I don’t know what to say.
BERINTHIA.
Don’t you think we steal forth two contemptible creatures?
LOVELESS.
Why, tolerably so, I must confess.
BERINTHIA.
And do you conceive it possible for you ever to give Amanda the least
uneasiness again?
LOVELESS.
No, I think we never should indeed.
BERINTHIA.
We! why, monster, you don’t pretend that I ever entertained a thought?
LOVELESS.
Why then, sincerely and honestly, Berinthia, there is something in my
wife’s conduct which strikes me so forcibly, that if it were not for
shame, and the fear of hurting you in her opinion, I swear I would follow her,
confess my error, and trust to her generosity for forgiveness.
BERINTHIA.
Nay, pr’ythee, don’t let your respect for me prevent you; for as my
object in trifling with you was nothing more than to pique Townly, and as I
perceive he has been actuated by a similar motive, you may depend on’t I
shall make no mystery of the matter to him.
LOVELESS.
By no means inform him: for though I may choose to pass by his conduct without
resentment, how will he presume to look me in the face again?
BERINTHIA.
How will you presume to look him in the face again?
LOVELESS.
He, who has dared to attempt the honour of my wife!
BERINTHIA.
You who have dared to attempt the honour of his mistress! Come, come, be ruled
by me, who affect more levity than I have, and don’t think of anger in
this cause. A readiness to resent injuries is a virtue only in those who are
slow to injure.
LOVELESS.
Then I will be ruled by you; and when you think proper to undeceive Townly, may
your good qualities make as sincere a convert of him as Amanda’s have of
me.-When truth’s extorted from us, then we own the robe of virtue is a
sacred habit.
Could women but our secret counsel scan—
Could they but reach the deep reserve of man—
To keep our love they’d rate their virtue high,
They live together, and together die.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II.—A Room in SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY’S House. Enter MISS HOYDEN, NURSE, and TOM FASHION.
TOM FASHION.
This quick despatch of the chaplain’s I take so kindly it shall give him
claim to my favour as long as I live, I assure you.
MISS HOYDEN.
And to mine too, I promise you.
NURSE.
I most humbly thank your honours; and may your children swarm about you like
bees about a honeycomb!
MISS HOYDEN.
Ecod, with all my heart—the more the merrier, I say—ha, nurse?
Enter LORY.
LORY.
One word with you, for Heaven’s sake. [Taking TOM FASHION
hastily aside.]
TOM FASHION.
What the devil’s the matter?
LORY.
Sir, your fortune’s ruined if you are not married. Yonder’s your
brother arrived, with two coaches and six horses, twenty footmen, and a coat
worth fourscore pounds—so judge what will become of your lady’s
heart.
TOM FASHION.
Is he in the house yet?
LORY.
No, they are capitulating with him at the gate. Sir Tunbelly luckily takes him
for an impostor; and I have told him that we have heard of this plot before.
TOM FASHION.
That’s right.—[Turning to MISS HOYDEN.] My dear,
here’s a troublesome business my man tells me of, but don’t be
frightened; we shall be too hard for the rogue. Here’s an impudent fellow
at the gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my name upon
him, in hopes to run away with you.
MISS HOYDEN.
Oh, the brazen-faced varlet! it’s well we are married, or maybe we might
never have been so.
TOM FASHION.
[Aside.] Egad, like enough.—[Aloud.] Pr’ythee, nurse,
run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the gate before I speak to him.
NURSE.
An’t please your honour, my lady and I had better, lock ourselves up till
the danger be over.
TOM FASHION.
Do so, if you please.
MISS HOYDEN.
Not so fast; I won’t be locked up any more, now I’m married.
TOM FASHION.
Yes, pray, my dear, do, till we have seized this rascal.
MISS HOYDEN.
Nay, if you’ll pray me, I’ll do anything. [Exit with NURSE.]
TOM FASHION.
Hark you, sirrah, things are better than you imagine. The wedding’s over.
LORY.
The devil it is, sir! [Capers about.]
TOM FASHION.
Not a word—all’s safe—but Sir Tunbelly don’t know it,
nor must not yet. So I am resolved to brazen the brunt of the business out, and
have the pleasure of turning the impostor upon his lordship, which I believe
may easily be done.
Enter SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY. Did you ever hear, sir, of so impudent an undertaking?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Never, by the mass; but we’ll tickle him, I’ll warrant you.
TOM FASHION.
They tell me, sir, he has a great many people with him, disguised like
servants.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ay, ay, rogues enow, but we have mastered them. We only fired a few shot over
their heads, and the regiment scoured in an instant.—Here, Tummus, bring
in your prisoner.
TOM FASHION.
If you please, Sir Tunbelly, it will be best for me not to confront this fellow
yet, till you have heard how far his impudence will carry him.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Egad, your lordship is an ingenious person. Your lordship, then, will please to
step aside.
LORY.
[Aside.] ’Fore heavens, I applaud my master’s modesty!
[Exit with TOM FASHION.]
Enter SERVANTS, with LORD FOPPINGTON
disarmed.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Come, bring him along, bring him along.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
What the plague do you mean, gentlemen? is it fair time, that you are all drunk
before supper?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Drunk, sirrah! here’s an impudent rogue for you now. Drunk or sober,
bully, I’m a justice o’ the peace, and know how to deal with
strollers.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Strollers!
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ay, strollers. Come, give an account of yourself. What’s your name? where
do you live? do you pay scot and lot? Come, are you a freeholder or a
copyholder?
LORD FOPPINGTON.
And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent questions?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Because I’ll make you answer ’em, before I have done with you, you
rascal, you!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Before Gad, all the answer I can make to them is, that you are a very
extraordinary old fellow, stap my vitals.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Nay, if thou art joking deputy-lieutenants, we know how to deal with
you.—Here, draw a warrant for him immediately.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
A warrant! What the devil is’t thou wouldst be at, old gentleman?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
I would be at you, sirrah, (if my hands were not tied as a magistrate,) and
with these two double fists beat your teeth down your throat, you dog, you!
[Driving him.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.
And why wouldst thou spoil my face at that rate?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
For your design to rob me of my daughter, villain.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Rob thee of thy daughter! Now do I begin to believe I am in bed and asleep, and
that all this is but a dream. Pr’ythee, old father, wilt thou give me
leave to ask thee one question?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
I can’t tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington, to come
down and marry thy daughter?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Yes, marry, did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my
daughter before she’s a day older.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Now give me thy hand, old dad; I thought we should understand one another at
last.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
The fellow’s mad!—Here, bind him hand and foot. [They bind
him.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Nay, pr’ythee, knight, leave fooling; thy jest begins to grow dull.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Bind him, I say—he’s mad: bread and water, a dark room, and a whip,
may bring him to his senses again.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Pr’ythee, Sir Tunbelly, why should you take such an aversion to the
freedom of my address as to suffer the rascals thus to skewer down my arms
like a rabbit?—[Aside.] Egad, if I don’t awake, by all that
I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent dreams that ever
I dreamt in my life.
Re-enter MISS HOYDEN and NURSE.
MISS HOYDEN.
[Going up to LORD FOPPINGTON.] Is this he that would have
run—Fough, how he stinks of sweets!—Pray, father, let him be
dragged through the horse-pond.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband.
[Aside.]
MISS HOYDEN.
Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him—hang him?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
That, at least, child.
NURSE.
Ay, and it’s e’en too good for him too.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be one of the
most extraordinary families that ever man of quality matched into.
[Aside.]
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
What’s become of my lord, daughter?
MISS HOYDEN.
He’s just coming, sir.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
My lord! what does he mean by that, now? [Aside.]
Re-enter TOM FASHION and LORY. Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream’s out! [Runs.]
TOM FASHION.
Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to get a
fortune?
TOM FASHION.
I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a beau.
MISS HOYDEN.
Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [Surveys him.] Ha! I
find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither.
TOM FASHION.
[Aside.] Egad, she’ll be in love with him
presently—I’ll e’en have him sent away to
jail.—[To LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you
a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha’n’t
confidence enough to expect much favour from me?
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow.
NURSE.
Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lordship plain Thomas!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lordship?
NURSE.
Ho, ho! it’s my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble folks.
MISS HOYDEN.
Pray, my lord—[To FASHION]—don’t let him whisper too
close, lest he bite your ear off.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
I am not altogether so hungry as your ladyship is pleased to
imagine.—[Aside to TOM FASHION.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I
have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you’ll forgive
what’s past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer—thou
mayst live in extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals!
TOM FASHION.
It’s a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A quarter
of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her.
[Aside to LORD FOPPINGTON.]
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Well, what says he?
TOM FASHION.
Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!—lead on, constable.
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT.
Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some ladies to
wait on you. [To TOM FASHION.]
LORY.
[Aside to TOM FASHION.] So, sir, what will you do now?
TOM FASHION.
[Aside to LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the plot.—[Aloud.]
Only a few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I wish to introduce to you.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that ever nature yet brought into the
world.—Sir Tunbelly, strike me speechless, but these are my friends and
acquaintance, and my guests, and they will soon inform thee whether I am the
true Lord Foppington or not.
Enter LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, and
BERINTHIA.—LORD FOPPINGTON accosts them as they pass, but none answer
him. Fash.
So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses of your lordship’s
happiness.
LOVELESS.
But your lordship will do us the honour to introduce us to Sir Tunbelly Clumsy?
AMANDA.
And us to your lady.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Gad take me, but they are all in a story! [Aside.]
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord Foppington’s friends will ever
be welcome to me and mine.
TOM FASHION.
My love, let me introduce you to these ladies.
MISS HOYDEN.
By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am almost ashamed to come nigh
’em.
AMANDA.
A most engaging lady indeed!
MISS HOYDEN.
Thank ye, ma’am.
BERINTHIA.
And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the beau monde.
MISS HOYDEN.
Where is that?
TOM FASHION.
You’ll soon learn, my dear.
LOVELESS.
But Lord Foppington—
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Sir!
LOVELESS.
Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!—Pray who is this gentleman?
He seems rather in a singular predicament—
COLONEL TOWNLY.
For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly circumstanced, indeed.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ha! ha! ha!—So, these are your friends and your guests, ha, my
adventurer?
LORD FOPPINGTON.
I am struck dumb with their impudence, and cannot positively say whether I
shall ever speak again or not.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pass himself upon me as Lord
Foppington, and carry off my daughter.
LOVELESS.
A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect this from thee. Come,
pr’ythee confess the joke; tell Sir Tunbelly that I am the real Lord
Foppington, who yesterday made love to thy wife; was honoured by her with a
slap on the face, and afterwards pinked through the body by thee.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave thus.
LOVELESS.
A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the character he wants to
assume; but what will you do with him, Sir Tunbelly?
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and bridegroom choose to pardon him.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Bride and bridegroom! For Gad’s sake, Sir Tunbelly, ’tis tarture
to me to hear you call ’em so.
MISS HOYDEN.
Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him call us—dog and cat?
LORD FOPPINGTON.
By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times more like man and wife than
t’other.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
A precious rogue this to come a-wooing!
Re-enter SERVANT.
SERVANT.
There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord Foppington. [Exit.]
COLONEL TOWNLY.
’Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [Aside to TOM FASHION.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I believe are not corrupted.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Peace, fellow!—Would your lordship choose to have your guests shown here,
or shall they wait till we come to ’em?
TOM FASHION.
I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these visitors here
yet.—[Aside.] Egad, all must out.
LOVELESS.
Confess, confess; we’ll stand by you. [Aside to TOM FASHION.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling evidence on both sides—and
if I do not prove that fellow an impostor—
TOM FASHION.
Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now confessing that I am not what I
have passed myself for.—Sir Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I flatter
myself a man of character; but’tis with great pride I assure you I am not
Lord Foppington.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ouns!—what’s this?—an impostor?—a cheat?—fire and
faggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you?
TOM FASHION.
Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is,
I am brother to that noble peer.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Impudent to the last, Gad dem me!
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
My son-in-law! not yet, I hope.
TOM FASHION.
Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind offices
of this gentlewoman.
LORY.
’Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here,
was clerk.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Knock that rascal down!—But speak, Jezebel, how’s this?
NURSE.
Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well
as you. Your worship knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would
have given her away with your own hands.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
But how durst you do this without acquainting me?
NURSE.
Alas! if your worship had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung
and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed
it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels!
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you
on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address.
MISS HOYDEN.
Egad, though, I don’t see which is to be my husband after all.
LOVELESS.
Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an
affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you
may be proud of: my friend Tom Fashion is as honest a fellow as ever breathed.
LOVELESS.
That he is, depend on’t; and will hunt or drink with you most
affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them—
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Never! the hussy!—when I had set my heart on getting her a title.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed—give me leave to thank thee for
the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy damned, execrable
mansion; and at the same time to assure you, that of all the bumpkins and
blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate
and egregious, strike me ugly!
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
What’s this! I believe you are both rogues alike.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am
the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with
a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of
mine, whose title deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Puppy! puppy!—I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I
could give ’em as good a rent-roll as your lordship.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that—for that would be acting like a
Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Udzookers! now six such words more, and I’ll forgive them directly.
LOVELESS.
’Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself—Ladies,
what say you?
AMANDA.
Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent.
BERINTHIA.
Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Well then, if I must, I must; but turn—turn that sneering lord out,
however, and let me be revenged on somebody. But first look whether I am a
barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I’m in a
better humour, I’ll give you my blessing.
LOVELESS.
Nobly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson’s
christening yet.
MISS HOYDEN.
By goles, though, I don’t understand this! What! an’t I to be a
lady after all? only plain Mrs.—What’s my husband’s name,
nurse?
NURSE.
Squire Fashion.
MISS HOYDEN.
Squire, is he?—Well, that’s better than nothing.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
[Aside.] Now I will put on a philosophic air, and show these people,
that it is not possible to put a man of my quality out of
countenance.—[Aloud.] Dear Tam, since things are fallen out,
pr’ythee give me leave to wish thee joy; I do it de bon coeur,
strike me dumb! You have married into a family of great politeness and uncommon
elegance of manners, and your bride appears to be a lady beautiful in person,
modest in her deportment, refined in her sentiments, and of nice morality,
split my windpipe!
MISS HOYDEN.
By goles, husband, break his bones if he calls me names!
TOM FASHION.
Your lordship may keep up your spirits with your grimace, if you please; I
shall support mine, by Sir Tunbelly’s favour, with this lady and three
thousand pounds a year.
LORD FOPPINGTON.
Well, adieu, Tam!—Ladies, I kiss your, hands!—Sir Tunbelly, I shall
now quit this thy den; but while I retain the use of my arms, I shall ever
remember thou art a demned horrid savage; Ged demn me! [Exit.]
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
By the mass, ’tis well he’s gone—for I should ha’ been
provoked, by-and-by, to ha’ dun un a mischief. Well, if this is a lord, I
think Hoyden has luck on her side, in troth.
COLONEL TOWNLY.
She has, indeed, Sir Tunbelly.—But I hear the fiddles; his lordship, I
know, has provided ’em.
LOVELESS.
Oh, a dance and a bottle, Sir Tunbelly, by all means!
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
I had forgot the company below; well—what—we must be merry, then,
ha? and dance and drink, ha? Well, ’fore George, you shan’t say I
do these things by halves. Son-in-law there looks like a hearty rogue, so
we’ll have a night on’t: and which of these ladies will be the old
man’s partner, ha?—Ecod, I don’t know how I came to be in so
good a humour.
BERINTHIA.
Well, Sir Tunbelly, my friend and I both will endeavour to keep you so: you
have done a generous action, and are entitled to our attention. If you should
be at a loss to divert your new guests, we will assist you to relate to them
the plot of your daughter’s marriage, and his lordship’s deserved
mortification; a subject which perhaps may afford no bad evening’s
entertainment.
SIR TUNBELLY CLUMSY.
Ecod, with all my heart; though I am a main bungler at a long story.
BERINTHIA.
Never fear; we will assist you, if the tale is judged worth being repeated; but
of this you may be assured, that while the intention is evidently to please,
British auditors will ever be indulgent to the errors of the performance.
[Exeunt omnes.]