Lady Rod. Guid traith, my lord, the sum total is—that there we aw danced, and wrangled, and flattered, and slandered, and gambled, and cheated, and mingled, and jumbled, and wolloped together—clean and unclean—even like the animal assembly in Noah's ark.
Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha!—Well, you are a droll girl, Rodolpha,—and, upon my honour, ha, ha, ha!—you have given us as whimsical a sketch as ever was hit off.
Sir Per. Ah! yas, my lord, especially the animal assembly in Noah's ark.—It is an excellent picture of the oddities that one meets with at the Bath.
Lord Lum. Why yes, there is some fancy in it, I think, Egerton?
Eger. Very characteristic indeed, my lord.
Lord Lum. What say you, Mr. Sidney?
Sid. Upon my word, my lord, the lady has made me see the whole assembly in distinct colours.
Lady Rod. O! Maister Sidney, your approbation makes me as vain as a reigning toast before her looking-glass.—"But, Lady Macsycophant, I cannot help observing, that you have one uncka, unsalutary fashion here in the South, at your routs, your assemblies, and aw your dancing bouts;—the which I am astonished you do not relegate fra amongst ye.
"Lady Mac. Pray, madam, what may that be?
"Lady Rod. Why, your orgeats, capillaires, lemonades, and aw your slips and slops, with which you drench your weimbs, when you are dancing.—Upon honour, they always make a swish-swash in my bowels, and give me the wooly-wambles.
"Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
"Lord Lum. Ho, ho, ho!—you indelicate creature,—why, my dear Rodolpha—ha, ha, ha! what are you talking about?
"Lady Rod. Weel, weel, my lord,—guin ye laugh till ye brust;—the fact is still true.—Now in Edinburgh—in Edinburgh, my lady—we have nai sic pinch-gut doings—for there, guid traith, we always have a guid comfortable dish of cutlets or collops, or a nice, warm, savory haggiss, with a guid swig of whiskey punch to recruit our spirits—after our dancing and sweating.
"Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!
"Sir Per. Ay, and that is much wholesomer, Lady Rodolpha, than aw their slips and their slops here in the south.
"Lord Lum. Ha, ha, ha! Well, my dear Rodolpha, you are a droll girl, upon honour,—and very entertaining, I vow; [He whispers.]—but, my dear child,—a little too much upon the dancing, and sweating, and the wolly-wambles.
"Omnes. Ha, ha, ha!"
Enter TOMLINS.
Tom. Colonel Toper and Captain Hardbottle are come, sir.
Sir Per. O! vary weel.—Dinner directly.
Tom. It is ready, sir. [Exit.
Sir Per. My lord, we attend your lordship.
Lord Lum. Lady Mac, your ladyship's hand, if you please. [Exit with Lady Macsycophant.
Sir Per. And here, Lady Rodolpha, is an Arcadian swain that has a hand at your ladyship's devotion.
Lady Rod. [Giving her hand to Egerton.] And I, sir, have one at his.— There, sir:—as to hearts, ye ken, cousin, they are not brought into the account of human dealings now-a-days.
Eger. O! madam, they are mere temporary baubles, especially in courtship; and no more to be depended upon than the weather, or a lottery ticket.
Lady Rod, Ha, ha, ha! twa excellent similes, I vow, Mr. Egerton.— Excellent! for they illustrate the vagaries and inconstancy of my dissipated heart as exactly as if you had meant to describe it. [Exit with Eger.
Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha! what a vast fund of spirits and guid humour she has, Maister Sidney.
Sid. A great fund indeed, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. Come, let us till dinner.—Hah! by this time to-morrow, Maister Sidney, I hope we shall have every thing ready for you to put the last hand till the happiness of your friend and pupil;—and then, sir—my cares will be over for this life:—for as to my other son, I expect nai guid of him, nor shou'd I grieve, were I to see him in his coffin.—But this match,—O! it will make me the happiest of aw human beings. [Exeunt.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Enter Sir PERTINAX and EGERTON.
Sir Per. [In warm resentment.] Zoons! sir, I wull not hear a word about it:—I insist upon it you are wrong:—you shou'd have paid your court till my lord, and not have scrupled swallowing a bumper or twa, or twenty, till oblige him.
Eger. Sir, I did drink his toast in a bumper.
Sir Per. Yes—you did;—but how? how?—just as a bairn takes physic— with aversions and wry faces, which my lord observed: then, to mend the matter, the moment that he and the colonel got intill a drunken dispute about religion, you slily slunged away.
Eger. I thought, sir, it was time to go, when my lord insisted upon half pint bumpers.
Sir Per. Sir, that was not levelled at you, but at the colonel, in order to try his bottom; but they aw agreed that you and I should drink out of smaw glasses.
Eger. But, sir, I beg pardon:—I did not choose to drink any more.
Sir Per. But zoons! sir, I tell you there was a necessity for your drinking more.
Eger. A necessity! in what respect, pray, sir?
Sir Per. Why, sir, I have a certain point to carry, independent of the lawyers, with my lord, in this agreement of your marriage—about which I am afraid we shall have a warm squabble—and therefore I wanted your assistance in it.
Eger. But how, sir, could my drinking contribute to assist you in your squabble?
Sir Per. Yes, sir, it would have contributed—and greatly have contributed to assist me.
Eger. How so, sir?
Sir Per. Nay, sir, it might have prevented the squabble entirely; for as my lord is proud of you for a son-in-law, and is fond of your little French songs, your stories, and your bon-mots, when you are in the humour,—and guin you had but staid—and been a little jolly—and drank half a score bumpers with him, till he got a little tipsy—I am sure, when we had him in that mood, we might have settled the point as I could wish it, among ourselves, before the lawyers came: but now, sir, I do not ken what will be the consequence.
Eger. But when a man is intoxicated, would that have been a seasonable time to settle business, sir?
Sir Per. The most seasonable, sir:—for, sir, when my lord is in his cups—his suspicion is asleep—and his heart is aw jollity, fun, and guid fellowship; and sir, can there be a happier moment than that for a bargain, or to settle a dispute with a friend? What is it you shrug up your shoulders at, sir?
Eger. At my own ignorance, sir;—for I understand neither the philosophy nor the morality of your doctrine.
Sir Per. I know you do not, sir,—and, what is worse—you never wull, understand it, as you proceed: in one word, Charles, I have often told you, and now again I tell you, once for aw, that the manoeuvres of pliability are as necessary to rise in the world, as wrangling and logical subtlety are to rise at the bar: why you see, sir, I have acquired a noble fortune, a princely fortune—and how do you think I raised it?
Eger. Doubtless, sir, by your abilities.
Sir Per. Doubtless, sir, you are a blockhead:—nai, sir, I'll tell you how I raised it. Sir, I raised it—by bowing; [Bows ridiculously low.] by bowing: sir, I never could stand straight in the presence of a great man, but always bowed, and bowed, and bowed—as it were by instinct.
Eger. How do you mean by instinct, sir?
Sir Per. How do I mean by instinct? why, sir, I mean by—by—by the instinct of interest, sir, which is the universal instinct of mankind. Sir, it is wonderful to think, what a cordial, what an amicable, nay, what an infallible influence, bowing has upon the pride and vanity of human nature. Charles, answer me sincerely, have you a mind to be convinced of the force of my doctrine, by example and demonstration?
Eger. Certainly, sir.
Sir Per. Then, sir, as the greatest favour I can confer upon you, I'll give you a short sketch of the stages of my bowing,—as an excitement, and a landmark for you to bow be—and as an infallible nostrum to rise in the world.
Eger. Sir, I shall be proud to profit by your experience.
Sir Per. Vary weel, sir: sit ye down then, sit you down here: [They sit down.]—and now, sir, you must recall to your thoughts, that your grandfather was a man, whose penurious income of half pay was the sum total of his fortune;—and, sir, aw my provision fra him was a modicum of Latin, an expertness in arithmetic, and a short system of worldly counsel; the principal ingredients of which were, a persevering industry, a rigid economy, a smooth tongue, a pliability of temper, and a constant attention to make every man well pleased with himself.
Eger. Very prudent advice, sir.
Sir Per. Therefore, sir, I lay it before you.—Now, sir, with these materials I set out a raw-boned stripling fra the north, to try my fortune with them here in the south; and my first step intill the world was, a beggarly clerkship in Sawney Gordon's counting house, here in the city of London, which you'll say afforded but a barren sort of a prospect.
Eger. It was not a very fertile one indeed, sir.
Sir Per. The reverse, the reverse: weel, sir, seeing myself in this unprofitable situation, I reflected deeply; I cast about my thoughts morning, noon, and night, and markt every man and every mode of prosperity,—at last I concluded that a matrimonial adventure, prudently conducted, would be the readiest gait I could gang for the bettering of my condition, and accordingly I set about it: now, sir, in this pursuit, beauty! beauty!—ah! beauty often struck mine een, and played about my heart! and fluttered, and beat, and knocked, and knocked, but the devil an entrance I ever let it get;—for I observed, sir, that beauty—is generally—a proud, vain, saucy, expensive, impertinent sort of a commodity.
Eger. Very justly observed, sir.
Sir Per. And therefore, sir, I left it to prodigals and coxcombs, that could afford to pay for it; and in its stead, sir, mark! I looked out for an ancient, weel-jointured, superannuated dowager:—a consumptive, toothless, ptisicky, wealthy widow,—or a shrivelled, cadaverous piece of deformity in the shape of an izzard, or a appersi-and,—or, in short, ainy thing, ainy thing that had the siller, the siller,—for that, sir, was the north star of my affections. Do you take me, sir; was nai that right?
Eger. O! doubtless—doubtless, sir.
Sir Per. Now, sir, where do you think I ganged to look for this woman with the siller?—nai till court, nai till playhouses or assemblies—nai, sir. I ganged till the kirk, till the anabaptist, independent, bradlonian, and muggletonian meetings; till the morning and evening service of churches and chapels of ease, and till the midnight, melting, conciliating love-feasts of the methodists; and there, sir, at last, I fell upon an old, slighted, antiquated, musty maiden, that looked—ha, ha, ha! she looked just like a skeleton in a surgeon's glass case. Now, sir, this miserable object was religiously angry with herself and aw the world; had nai comfort but in metaphysical visions, and supernatural deliriums; ha, ha, ha! Sir, she was as mad—as mad as a Bedlamite.
Eger. Not improbable, sir, there are numbers of poor creatures in the same condition.
Sir Per. O! numbers—numbers. Now, sir, this cracked creature used to pray, and sing, and sigh, and groan, and weep, and wail, and gnash her teeth constantly, morning and evening, at the Tabernacle in Moorfields: and as soon as I found she had the siller, aha! guid traith, I plumpt me down upon my knees, close by her—cheek by jowl—and prayed, and sighed, and sung, and groaned, and gnashed my teeth as vehemently as she could do for the life of her; ay, and turned up the whites of mine een, till the strings awmost crackt again:—I watcht her motions, handed her till her chair, waited on her home, got most religiously intimate with her in a week,—married her in a fortnight, buried her in a month;—touched the siller, and with a deep suit of mourning, a melancholy port, a sorrowful visage, and a joyful heart, I began the world again;—and this, sir, was the first bow, that is, the first effectual bow, I ever made till the vanity of human nature:—now, sir, do you understand this doctrine?
Eger. Perfectly well, sir.
Sir Per. Ay, but was it not right? was it not ingenious, and weel hit off?
Eger. Certainly, sir: extremely well.
Sir Per. My next bow, sir, was till your ain mother, whom I ran away with fra the boarding school; by the interest of whose family I got a guid smart place in the Treasury:—and, sir, my vary next step was intill Parliament; the which I entered with as ardent and as determined an ambition as ever agitated the heart of Cæsar himself. Sir, I bowed, and watched, and hearkened, and ran about, backwards and forwards; and attended, and dangled upon the then great man, till I got intill the vary bowels of his confidence,—and then, sir, I wriggled, and wrought, and wriggled, till I wriggled myself among the very thick of them: hah! I got my snack of the clothing, the foraging, the contracts, the lottery tickets—and aw the political bonusses;—till at length, sir, I became a much wealthier man than one half of the golden calves I had been so long a bowing to: [He rises, and Eger. rises too.]—and was nai that bowing to some purpose?
Eger. It was indeed, sir.
Sir Per. But are you convinced of the guid effects, and of the utility of bowing?
Eger. Thoroughly, sir.
Sir Per. Sir, it is infallible:—but, Charles, ah! while I was thus bowing, and wriggling, and raising this princely fortune,—ah! I met with many heart-sores and disappointments fra the want of literature, eloquence, and other popular abeleties. Sir, guin I could but have spoken in the house, I should have done the deed in half the time; but the instant I opened my mouth there, they aw fell a laughing at me;—aw which deficiencies, sir, I determined, at any expence, to have supplied by the polished education of a son, who, I hoped, would one day raise the house of Macsycophant till the highest pitch of ministerial ambition. This, sir, is my plan: I have done my part of it; Nature has done hers: you are popular, you are eloquent; aw parties like and respect you; and now, sir, it only remains for you to be directed—completion follows.
Eger. Your liberality, sir, in my education, and the judicious choice you made of the worthy gentleman, to whose virtue and abilities you entrusted me, are obligations I shall ever remember with the deepest filial gratitude.
Sir Per. Vary weel, sir: but, Charles, have you had any conversation yet with Lady Rodolpha, about the day of your marriage—your liveries—your equipage—or your domestic establishment?
Eger. Not yet, sir.
Sir Per. Poh! why there again now you are wrong—vary wrong.
Eger. Sir, we have not had an opportunity.
Sir Per. Why, Charles, you are vary tardy in this business.
Lord Lum. [Sings without, flusht with wine.] 'What have we with day to do?'
Sir Per. O! here comes my lord.
Lord Lum. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you,' [Enters, drinking a dish of coffee: TOMLINS waiting with a salver in his hand.] —'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Very, good coffee indeed, Mr. Tomlins. 'Sons of care, 'twas made for you.' Here, Mr. Tomlins.
Tom. Will your lordship please to have another dish?
Lord Lum. No more, Mr. Tomlins. [Exit Tomlins.] Ha, ha, ha! my host of the Scotch pints, we have had warm work.
Sir Per. Yes; you pushed the bottle about, my lord, with the joy and vigour of a Bacchanal.
Lord Lum. That I did, my dear Mac; no loss of time with me: I have but three motions, old boy,—charge—toast—fire—and off we go: ha, ha, ha! that's my exercise.
Sir Per. And fine warm exercise it is, my lord,—especially with the half-pint glasses.
Lord Lum. Zounds! it does execution point blanc:—ay, ay, none of your pimping acorn glasses for me, but your manly, old English half-pint bumpers, my dear: they try a fellow's stamina at once:—but, where's Egerton?
Sir Per. Just at hand, my lord; there he stands—looking at your lordship's picture.
Lord Lum. My dear Egerton.
Eger. Your lordship's most obedient.
Lord Lum. I beg pardon: I did not see you: I am sorry you left us so soon after dinner: had you staid, you would have been highly entertained. I have made such examples of the commissioner, the captain, and the colonel.
Eger. So I understand, my lord.
Lord Lum. But, Egerton, I have slipt from the company for a few moments, on purpose to have a little chat with you. Rodolpha tells me she fancies there is a kind of demur on your side, about your marriage with her.
Sir Per. A demur! how so, my lord?
Lord Lum. Why, as I was drinking my coffee with the women just now, I desired they would fix the wedding night, and the etiquette of the ceremony; upon which the girl burst into a loud laugh, telling me she supposed I was joking, for that Mr. Egerton had never yet given her a single glance or hint upon the subject.
Sir Per. My lord, I have been just now talking to him about his shyness to the lady.
Enter TOMLINS..
Tom. Counsellor Plausible is come, sir, and serjeant Eitherside.
Sir Per. Why then we can settle the business this very evening, my lord.
Lord Lum. As well as in seven years: and, to make the way as short as possible, pray, Mr. Tomlins, present your master's compliments and mine to Lady Rodolpha, and let her ladyship know we wish to speak with her directly: [Exit Tomlins.]—He shall attack her this instant, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. Ay! this is doing business effectually, my lord.
Lord Lum. O! I will pit them in a moment, Sir Pertinax,—that will bring them into the heat of the action at once, and save a great deal of awkwardness on both sides. O! here your dulcinea comes, sir.
Enter Lady RODOLPHA, singing, a music paper in her hand.
Lady Rod. I have been learning this air of Constantia: I protest, her touch on the harpsichord is quite brilliant, and really her voice not amiss. Weel, Sir Pertinax, I attend your commands, and yours, my paternal lord. [Lady Rod. curtsies very low; my lord bows very low, and answers in the same tone and manner.]
Lord Lum. Why, then, my filial lady, we are to inform you that the commission for your ladyship and this enamoured cavalier, commanding you to serve your country, jointly and inseparably, in the honourable and forlorn hope of matrimony, is to be signed this very evening.
Lady Rod. This evening, my lord!
Lord Lum. This evening, my lady. Come, Sir Pertinax, let us leave them to settle their liveries, wedding-suits, carriages, and all their amorous equipage, for the nuptial campaign.
Sir Per. Ha, ha, ha! excellent! excellent! weel, I vow, my lord, you are a great officer:—this is as guid a manoeuvre to bring on a rapid engagement as the ablest general of them aw could have started.
Lord Lum. Ay, ay! leave them together; they'll soon come to a right understanding, I warrant you, or the needle and loadstone have lost their sympathy. [Exit Lord Lum. and Sir Per.
[Lady Rodolpha stands at that side of the Stage, where they went off, in amazement: Egerton is at the opposite side, who, after some anxious emotion, settles into a deep reflection:—this part of the scene must be managed by a nice whispering tone of self-conversation mutually observed by the Lovers.]
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Why, this is downright tyranny! it has quite dampt my spirits; and my betrothed, yonder, seems planet-struck too, I think.
Eger. [Aside.] A whimsical situation, mine!
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Ha, ha, ha! methinks we look like a couple of cautious generals, that are obliged to take the field, but neither of us seems willing to come till action.
Eger. [Aside.] I protest, I know not how to address her.
Lady Rod. [Aside.] He will nai advance, I see: what am I to do in this affair? guid traith, I will even do, as I suppose many brave heroes have done before me,—clap a guid face upon the matter, and so conceal an aching heart under a swaggering countenance. [As she advances, she points at him, and smothers a laugh; but when she speaks to him, the tone must be loud, and rude on the word Sir.] Sir, as we have,—by the commands of our guid fathers, a business of some little consequence to transact,—I hope you will excuse my taking the liberty of recommending a chair till you, for the repose of your body—in the embarrassed deliberation of your perturbed spirits.
Eger. [Greatly embarrassed.] Madam, I beg your pardon. [Hands her a chair, then one for himself.] Please to sit, madam. [They sit down with great ceremony: she sits down first. He sits at a distance from her. They are silent for some time. He coughs, hems, and adjusts himself. She mimicks him.]
Lady Rod. [Aside.] Aha! he's resolved not to come too near till me, I think.
Eger. [Aside.] A pleasant interview, this—hem, hem!
Lady Rod. [Aside, mimicks him to herself.] Hem! he will not open the congress, I see.—Then I will.—[very loud.] Come, sir, when will you begin?
Eger. [Greatly surprised.] Begin! what, madam?
Lady Rod. To make love till me.
Eger. Love, madam!
Lady Rod. Ay, love, sir.—Why, you have never said a word till me on the subject,—nor cast a single glance at me,—nor heaved one tender sigh,—nor even secretly squeezed my loof:—now, sir, thof our fathers are so tyrannical as to dispose of us without the consent of our hearts;—yet you, sir, I hope, have more humanity than to think of marrying me without administering some of the preliminaries, usual on those occasions:—if not till my understanding and sentiments, yet till the vanity of my sex, at least, I hope you will pay some little tribute of ceremony and adulation: that, I think, I have a right to expect.
Eger. Madam, I own your reproach is just:—I shall therefore no longer disguise my sentiments, but fairly let you know my heart.
Lady Rod. [Starts up, and runs to him.] That's right,—that is right, cousin;—honourably and affectionately right;—that is what I like of aw things in my swain.—Ay, ay, cousin—open your mind frankly till me, as a true lover shou'd.—But sit you down—sit you down again: I shall return your frankness and your passion, cousin, with a melting tenderness, equal till the amorous enthusiasm of an ancient heroine.
Eger. Madam, if you will hear me——
Lady Rod. But, remember, you must begin with fervency,—and a most rapturous vehemency:—for you are to consider, cousin, that our match is nai to arise fra the union of hearts, and a long decorum of ceremonious courtship;—but is instantly to start at once—out of necessity, or mere accident;—ha, ha, ha! like a match in an ancient romance,—where you ken, cousin,—the knight and the damsel are mutually smitten and dying for each other at first sight,—or by an amorous sympathy before they exchange a single glance.
Eger. Dear madam, you entirely mistake——
Lady Rod. And our fathers,—ha, ha, ha! our fathers are to be the dark magicians that are to fascinate our hearts and conjure us together, whether we will or not.
Eger. Ridiculous!
Lady Rod. So now, cousin, with the true romantic enthusiasm,—you are to suppose me the lady of the enchanted castle, and you—ha, ha, ha! you are to be the knight of the sorrowful countenance—ha, ha, ha! and, upon honour—you look the character admirably;—ha, ha, ha!
Eger. Rude trifling creature!
Lady Rod. Come, sir,—why do you nai begin to ravish me with your valour, your vows, your knight errantry, and your amorous phrenzy.—Nay, nay, nay! guin you do nai begin at once, the lady of the enchanted castle will vanish in a twinkling.
Eger. Lady Rodolpha, I know your talent for raillery well;—but at present, in my case, there is a kind of cruelty in it.
Lady Rod. Raillery! upon honour, cousin, you mistake me quite and clean.—I am serious—very serious;—ay, and I have cause to be serious;— nay, I will submit my case even till yourself. [Whines.] Can any poor lassy be in a more lamentable condition, than to be sent four hundred miles, by the command of a positive grandmother, to marry a man, who I find has no more affection for me,—than if I had been his wife these seven years.
Eger. Madam, I am extremely sorry——
Lady Rod. [Cries and sobs.] But it is vary weel, cousin.—I see your unkindness and aversion plain enough,—and, sir, I must tell you fairly, you are the ainly man that ever slighted my person,—or that drew tears fra these een.—But—it is vary weel—it's vary weel—I will return till Scotland to-morrow morning, and let my grandmother know how I have been affronted by your slights, your contempts, and your aversions.
Eger. If you are serious, madam, your distress gives me a deep concern;—but affection is not in our power; and when you know that my heart is irrecoverably given to another woman, I think, your understanding and good nature will not only pardon my past coldness and neglect of you,—but forgive me when I tell you, I never can have that honour which is intended me,—by a connection with your ladyship.
Lady Rod. [Starting up.] How, sir!—are you serious?
Eger. [Rises.] Madam, I am too deeply interested, both as a man of honour and a lover, to act otherwise with you on so tender a subject.
Lady Rod. And so you persist in slighting me?
Eger. I beg your pardon, madam; but I must be explicit, and at once declare—that I never can give my hand where I cannot give my heart.
Lady Rod. [In great anger.] Why then, sir, I must tell you, that your declaration is sic an affront as nai woman of spirit can, or ought to bear:—and here I make a solemn vow, never to pardon it, but on one condition.
Eger. If that condition be in my power, madam——
Lady Rod. [Snaps him up.] Sir, it is in your power.
Eger. Then, madam, you may command me.
Lady Rod. [With a firm peremptory command]. Why then, sir, the condition is this;—you must here give me your honour,—that nai importunity,—command,—or menace of your father,—in fine, that nai consideration whatever,—shall induce you to take me, Rodolpha Lumbercourt, to be your wedded wife.
Eger. Madam, I most solemnly promise, I never will.
Lady Rod. And I, sir, most solemnly, and sincerely [Curtsies.] thank you—for [Curtsies.] your resolution, and your agreeable aversion—ha, ha, ha! for you have made me as happy as a poor wretch, reprieved in the vary instant of intended execution.
Eger. Pray, madam, how am I to understand all this?
Lady Rod.[With frankness, and, a reverse of manners.] Why, sir, your frankness and sincerity demand the same behaviour on my side;—therefore, without farther disguise or ambiguity, know, sir, that I myself [With a deep sigh.] am as deeply smitten with a certain swain, as I understand you are with your Constantia.
Eger. Indeed, madam!
Lady Rod. [With an amiable, soft, tender sincerity.] O! sir, notwithstanding aw my shew of courage and mirth,—here I stand—as errant a trembling Thisbe, as ever sighed or mourned for her Pyramus,—and, sir, aw my extravagant levity and ridiculous behaviour in your presence now, and ever since your father prevailed upon mine to consent till this match, has been a premeditated scheme to provoke your gravity and guid sense intill a cordial disgust, and a positive refusal.
Eger. Madam, you have contrived and executed your scheme most happily.
Lady Rod. Then, since Cupid has thus luckily disposed of you till your Constantia, and me till my swain, we have nothing to think of now, sir, but to contrive how to reduce the inordinate passions of our parents intill a temper of prudence and humanity.
Eger. Most willingly I consent to your proposal.——But, with your leave, madam, if I may presume so far;—'pray, who is your lover?
Lady Rod. Why, in that too I shall surprise you perhaps more than ever.—In the first place—he is a beggar—and in disgrace with an unforgiving father;—and in the next place,—he is [Curtsies.] your ain brother.
Eger. Is it possible?
Lady Rod. A most amorous truth, sir;—that is, as far as a woman can answer for her ain heart. [in a laughing gaiety.] So you see, cousin Charles, thof I you'd nai mingle affections with you—I have nai ganged out of the family.
Eger. [A polite rapture, frank.] Madam, give me leave to congratulate myself upon your affection,—you cou'd not have placed it on a worthier object; and, whatever is to be our chance in this lottery of our parents, be assured that my fortune shall be devoted to your happiness and his.
Lady Rod. Generous, indeed, cousin—but not a whit nobler, I assure you, than your brother Sandy believes of you.—And, be assured, sir, that we shall both remember it, while the heart feels, or the memory retains a sense of gratitude.—But now, sir, let me ask one question:—Pray, how is your mother affected in this business?
Eger. She knows of my passion, and will, I am sure, be a friend to the common cause.
Lady Rod. Ah! that's lucky. Our first step then must be to take her advice upon our conduct, so as to keep our fathers in the dark till we can hit off some measure that will wind them about till our ain purpose, and the common interest of our ain passion.
Eger. You are very right, madam, for, should my father suspect my brother's affection for your ladyship, or mine for Constantia, there is no guessing what wou'd be the consequence.—His whole happiness depends upon this bargain with my lord; for it gives him the possession of three boroughs, and those, madam, are much dearer to him than the happiness of his children. I am sorry to say it, but, to gratify his political rage, he wou'd sacrifice every social tie, that is dear to friend or family. [Exeunt.
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Sir PERTINAX, and Counsellor PLAUSIBLE.
Sir Per. No, no.—Come away, Counsellor Plausible;—come away, I say;—let them chew upon it.—Why, counsellor, did you ever see so impertinent, so meddling, and so obstinate a blockhead, as that Serjeant Eitherside? Confound the fellow—he has put me out of aw temper.
Plaus. He is very positive, indeed, Sir Pertinax,—and no doubt was intemperate and rude. But, Sir Pertinax, I wou'd not break off the match notwithstanding; for certainly, even without the boroughs, it is an advantageous bargain both to you and your son.
Sir Per. But, zounds! Plausible, do you think I will give up the nomination till three boroughs?—Why I wou'd rather give him twenty, nay thirty thousand pounds in any other part of the bargain:—especially at this juncture, when votes are likely to become so valuable.—Why, man, if a certain affair comes on, they will rise above five hundred per cent.
Plaus. You judge very rightly, Sir Pertinax;—but what shall we do in this case? for Mr. Serjeant insists that you positively agreed to my lord's having the nomination to the three boroughs during his own life.
Sir Per. Why yes,—in the first sketch of the agreement, I believe I did consent:—but at that time, man, my lord's affairs did not appear to be half so desperate, as I now find they turn out.—Sir, he must acquiesce in whatever I demand, for I have got him intill sic an a hobble that he cannot——
Plaus. No doubt, Sir Pertinax, you have him absolutely in your power.
Sir Per. Vary weel:—And ought rial a man to make his vantage of it?
Plaus. No doubt you ought;—no manner of doubt.—But, Sir Pertinax, there is a secret spring in this business, that you do not seem to perceive;—and which, I am afraid, governs the matter respecting these boroughs.
Sir Per. What spring do you mean, counsellor?
Plaus. Why this Serjeant Eitherside,—I have some reason to think that my lord is tied down by some means or other to bring the serjeant in, the very first vacancy, for one of these boroughs;—now that, I believe, is the sole motive why the serjeant is so strenuous that my lord should keep the boroughs in his own power;—fearing that you might reject him for some man of your own.
Sir Per. Odswunds and death! Plausible, you are clever,—devilish clever.—By the blood, you have hit upon the vary string that has made aw thjs discord.—Oh! I see it,—I see it now.—But hauld—hauld—bide a wee bit—a wee bit, man;—I have a thought come intill my head—yes—I think, Plausible, that with a little twist in our negotiation that this vary string, properly tuned, may be still made to produce the vary harmony we wish for.—Yes, yes! I have it: this serjeant, I see, understands business—and, if I am not. mistaken, knows how to take a hint.
Plaus. O! nobody better, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. Why then, Plausible, the short road is always the best with sic a man.—You. must even come up till his mark at once, and assure him from me—that I will secure him a seat for one of these vary boroughs.
Plaus. O! that will do, Sir Pertinax—that will do, I'll answer for't.
Sir Per. And further—I beg you will let him know that I think myself obliged to consider him in this affair, as acting for me as weel as for my lord,—as a common friend till baith:—and for the services he has already done us, make my special compliments till him—and pray let this amicable bit of paper be my faithful advocate to convince him of what my gratitude further intends for his great [Gives him a bank-bill.] equity in adjusting this agreement betwixt my lord and me.
Plaus. Ha, ha, ha!—upon my word, Sir Pertinax, this is noble.—Ay, ay! this is an eloquent bit of paper indeed.
Sir Per. Maister Plausible, in aw human dealings the most effectual method is that of ganging at once till the vary bottom of a man's heart:—for if we expect that men shou'd serve us,—we must first win their affections by serving them.—O! here they baith come.
Enter Lord LUMBERCOURT, and Serjeant EITHERSIDE.
Lord Lum. My dear Sir Pertinax, what could provoke you to break off this business so abruptly? you are really wrong in the point,—and if you will give yourself time to recollect, you will find that my having the nomination to the boroughs for my life was a preliminary article;—I appeal to Mr. Serjeant Eitherside here, whether I did not always understand it so.
_Serj._I assure you, Sir Pertinax, that in all his lordship's conversation with me upon this business, and in his positive instructions,—both he and I always understood the nomination to be in my lord, durantê vitâ.
SirPer. Why, then my lord, to shorten the dispute, aw that I can say in answer till your lordship is—that there has been a total mistake betwixt us in that point,—and therefore the treaty must end here. I give it up.— O! I wash my hands of it for ever.
Plaus. Well, but gentlemen, gentlemen, a little patience.—Sure this mistake, some how or other, may be rectified.—Pr'ythee, Mr. Serjeant, let you and I step into the next room by ourselves, and reconsider the clause relative to the boroughs, and try if we cannot hit upon a medium that will be agreeable to both parties.
Serj. [With great warmth.] Mr. Plausible, I have considered the clause fully;—am entirely master of the question;—my lord cannot give up the point.—It is unkind and unreasonable to expect it.
Plaus. Nay, Mr. Serjeant, I beg you will not misunderstand me. Do not think I want his lordship to give up any point without an equivalent.—Sir Pertinax, will you permit Mr. Serjeant and me to retire a few moments to reconsider this point?
Sir Per. With aw my heart, Maister Plausible; any thing to oblige his lordship—any thing to accomodate his lordship—any thing.
Plaus. What say you, my lord?
Lord Lum Nay, I submit it entirely to you and Mr. Serjeant.
Plaus. Come, Mr. Serjeant, let us retire.
Lord Lum. Ay, ay,—go, Mr. Serjeant, and hear what Mr. Plausible has to say.
Serj. Nay, I'll wait on Mr. Plausible, my lord, with all my heart; but I am sure I cannot suggest the shadow of a reason for altering my present opinion: impossible—impossible.
Plaus. Well, well, Mr. Serjeant, do not be positive. I am sure, reason, and your client's conveniency, will always make you alter your opinion.
Serj. Ay, ay—reason, and my client's conveniency, Mr. Plausible, will always controul my opinion, depend upon it: ay, ay! there you are right. Sir, I attend you. [Exeunt Lawyers.
Sir Per. I am sorry, my lord, extremely sorry indeed, that this mistake has happened.
Lord Lum. Upon my honour, and so am I, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. But come now, after aw, your lordship must allow you have been in the wrong: come, my dear lord, you must allow me that now.
Lord Lum. How so, my dear Sir Pertinax?
Sir Per. Not about the boroughs, my lord, for those I do no mind of a bawbee;—but about your distrust of my friendship.—Why, do you think now—I appeal till your ain breast, my lord—do you think, I say, that I should ever have slighted your lordship's nomination till these boroughs.
Lord Lum. Why, really, I do not think you would, Sir Pertinax, but one must be directed by one's lawyer, you know.
Sir Per. Hah! my lord, lawyers are a dangerous species of animals to have any dependance upon: they are always starting punctilios and difficulties among friends. Why, my dear lord, it is their interest that aw mankind should be at variance: for disagreement is the vary manure with which they enrich and fatten the land of litigation; and as they find that that constantly promotes the best crop, depend upon it, they will always be sure to lay it on as thick as they can.
Lord Lum. Come, come, my dear Sir Pertinax, you must not be angry with the serjeant for his insisting so warmly on this point—for those boroughs, you know, are my sheet anchor.
Sir Per. I know it, my lord,—and, as an instance of my promptness to study, and of my acquiescence till your lordship's inclination, as I see that this Serjeant Eitherside wishes you weel and you him, I think now he would be as guid a man to be returned for one of those boroughs as could be pitched upon—and as such, I humbly recommend him till your lordship's consideration.
Lord Lum. Why, my dear Sir Pertinax, to tell you the truth, I have already promised him. He must be in for one of them, and that is one reason why I insisted so strenuously: he must be in.
Sir Per. And why not? odswunds! why not? is nai your word a fiat? and will it nai be always so till me? are ye nai my friend—my patron—and are we nai, by this match of our children, to be united intill one interest?
Lord Lum. So I understand it, I own, Sir Pertinax.
Sir Per. My lord, it can nai be otherwise: then, for Heaven's sake, as your lordship and I can have but one interest for the future, let us have nai mair words about these paltry boroughs, but conclude the agreement just as it stands; otherwise there must be new writings drawn, new consultations of lawyers, new objections and delays will arise,—creditors will be impatient and impertinent, so that we shall nai finish the Lord knows when.
Lord Lum. You are right, you are right: say no more, Mac, say no more. Split the lawyers—you judge the point better than all Westminster-hall could. It shall stand as it is: yes, you shall settle it your own way: for your interest and mine are the same, I see plainly.
Sir Per. No doubt of it, my lord.
Lord Lum. O! here the lawyers come.
Enter Counsellor PLAUSIBLE and Serjeant EITHERSIDE.
Lord Lum. So, gentlemen—well, what have you done? how are your opinions now?
Serj. My lord, Mr. Plausible has convinced me—fully convinced me.
Plaus. Yes, my lord, I have convinced him; I have laid such arguments before Mr. Serjeant as were irresistible.
Serj. He has indeed, my lord: besides, as Sir Pertinax gives his honour that your lordship's nomination shall be sacredly observed, why, upon a nearer review of the whole matter, I think it will be the wiser measure to conclude the agreement just as it is drawn.
Lord Lum. I am very glad you think so, Mr. Serjeant, because that is my opinion too: so, my dear Eitherside, do you and Plausible dispatch the business now as soon as possible.
Serj. My lord, every thing will be ready in less than an hour. Come, Mr. Plausible, let us go and fill up the blanks, and put the last hand to the writings on our part.
Plaus. I attend you, Mr. Serjeant. [Exeunt Lawyers.
Lord Lum. And while the lawyers are preparing the writings, Sir Pertinax, I will go and saunter with the women.
Sir Per. Do, do, my lord: and I will come till you presently.
Lord Lum. Very well, my dear Mac, I shall expect you. [Exit singing, 'Sons of care,' &c.
Sir Per. So! a little flattery mixt with the finesse of a gilded promise on one side, and a quantum sufficit of the aurum palpabile on the other, have at last made me the happiest father in Great-Britain. Hah! my heart expands itself, as it were thro' every part of my whole body, at the completion of this business, and feels nothing but dignity and elevation.—Hauld! hauld! bide a wee! bide a wee! I have but one little matter mair in this affair to adjust, and then, Sir Pertinax, you may dictate till Fortune herself, and send her to govern fools, while you shew and convince the world that wise men always govern her. Wha's there? [Enter Footman.]—Tell my son Egerton, I would speak with him here in the library. [Exit Footman]—Now I have settled the grand point with my lord, this, I think, is the proper juncture to feel the political pulse of my spark, and, once for aw, to set it to the exact measure that I would have it constantly beat. [Enter Egerton.]—Come hither, Charles.
Eger. Your pleasure, sir.
Sir Per. About twa hours since I told you, Charles, that I received this letter express, complaining of your brother's activity at an election in Scotland against a particular friend of mine, which has given great offence; and, sir, you are mentioned in the letter as weel as he: to be plain, I must roundly tell you, that on this interview depends my happiness as a father and as a man; and my affection to you, sir, as a son for the remainder of our days.
Eger. I hope, sir, I shall never do any thing either to forfeit your affection, or disturb your happiness.
Sir Per. I hope so too—but to the point.—The fact is this: there has been a motion made this vary day to bring on the grand affair—which is settled for Friday seven-night:—now, sir, as you are popular—have talents, and are weel heard, it is expected, and I insist upon it, that you endeavour to atone, sir, for your late misconduct, by preparing, and taking a large share in that question, and supporting it with aw your power.
Eger, Sir, I have always divided as you directed, except on one occasion; never voted against your friends, only in that affair.—But, sir, I hope you will not so exert your influence as to insist upon my supporting a measure by an obvious, prostituted sophistry, in direct opposition to my character and my conscience.
Sir Per. Conscience! why, you are mad! did you ever hear any man talk of conscience in political matters? Conscience, quotha? I have been in Parliament these three and thraty years, and never heard the term made use of before:—sir, it is an unparliamentary word, and you will be laughed at for it;—therefore I desire you will not offer to impose upon me with sic phantoms, but let me know your reason for thus slighting my friends and disobeying my commands.—Sir, give me an immediate and an explicit answer.
Eger. Then, sir, I must frankly tell you, that you work against my nature; you would connect me with men I despise, and press me into measures I abhor; would make me a devoted slave to selfish leaders, who have no friendship but in faction—no merit but in corruption—nor interest in any measure, but their own;—and to such men I cannot submit; for know, sir, that the malignant ferment which the venal ambition of the times provokes in the heads and hearts of other men, I detest.
Sir Per. What are you about, sir? malignant ferment! and venal ambition! Sir, every man should be ambitious to serve his country—and every man should be rewarded for it: and pray, sir, would nai you wish to serve your country? Answer me that.—I say, would nai you wish to serve your country?
Eger. Only shew me how I can serve my country, and my life is hers. Were I qualified to lead her armies, to steer her fleets, and deal her honest vengeance on her insulting foes;—or could my eloquence pull down a state leviathan, mighty by the plunder of his country—black with the treasons of her disgrace, and send his infamy down to a free posterity, as a monumental terror to corrupt ambition, I would be foremost in such service, and act it with the unremitting ardour of a Roman spirit.
Sir Per. Vary weel, sir! vary weel! the fellow is beside himself!
Eger. But to be a common barker at envied power—to beat the drum of faction, and sound the trumpet of insidious patriotism, only to displace a rival,—or to be a servile voter in proud corruption's filthy train,—to market out my voice, my reason, and my trust, to the party-broker, who best can promise, or pay for prostitution; these, sir, are services my nature abhors,—for they are such a malady to every kind of virtue, as must in time destroy the fairest constitution that ever wisdom framed, or virtuous liberty fought for.
Sir Per. Why, are you mad, sir? you have certainly been bit by some mad whig or other: but now, sir, after aw this foul-mouthed frenzy, and patriotic vulgar intemperance, suppose we were to ask you a plain question or twa: Pray, what single instance can you, or any man, give of the political vice or corruption of these days, that has nai been practised in the greatest states, and in the most virtuous times? I challenge you to give me a single instance.
Eger. Your pardon, sir—it is a subject I wish to decline: you know, sir, we never can agree about it.
Sir Per. Sir, I insist upon an answer.
Eger. I beg you will excuse me, sir.
Sir Per. I will not excuse you, sir. I insist.
Eger. Then, sir, in obedience, and with your patience, I will answer your question.
Sir Per. Ay! ay! I will be patient, never fear: come, let us have it, let us have it.
Eger. You shall; and now, sir, let prejudice, the rage of party, and the habitual insolence of successful vice—pause but for one moment,—and let religion, laws, power herself, the policy of a nation's virtue, and Britain's guardian genius, take a short, impartial retrospect but of one transaction, notorious in this land,—then must they behold yeomen, freemen, citizens, artizans, divines, courtiers, patriots, merchants, soldiers, sailors, and the whole plebeian tribe, in septennial procession, urged and seduced by the contending great ones of the land to the altar of perjury,—with the bribe in one hand, and the evangelist in the other,—impiously, and audaciously affront the Majesty of Heaven, by calling him to witness that they have not received, nor ever will receive, reward or consideration for his suffrage.—Is not this a fact, sir? Can it be denied? Can it be believed by those who know not Britain? Or can it be matched in the records of human policy?—Who then, sir, that reflects one moment, as a Briton or a Christian, on this picture, would be conducive to a people's infamy and a nation's ruin?
Sir Per. Sir, I have heard your rhapsody with a great deal of patience! and great astonishment,—and you are certainly beside yourself. What the devil business have you to trouble your head about the sins or the Souls of other men? You should leave these matters till the clergy, wha are paid for looking after them; and let every man gang till the devil his ain way: besides, it is nai decent to find fault with what is winked at by the whole nation—nay, and practised by aw parties.
Eger. That, sir, is the very shame, the ruin I complain of.
Sir Per. Oh! you are vary young, vary young in these matters, but experience will convince you, sir, that every man in public business has twa consciences,—a religious, and a political conscience. Why, you see a merchant now, or a shop-keeper, that kens the science of the world, always looks upon an oath at a custom-house, or behind a counter, only as an oath in business, a thing of course, a mere thing of course, that has nothing to do with religion;—and just so it is at an election:—for instance now—I am a candidate, pray observe, and I gang till a periwig-maker, a hatter, or a hosier, and I give ten, twenty, or thraty guineas for a periwig, a hat, or a pair of hose; and so on, thro' a majority of voters;—vary weel;—what is the consequence? Why, this commercial intercourse, you see, begets a friendship betwixt us, a commercial friendship—and, in a day or twa these men gang and give me their suffrages; weel! what is the inference? Pray, sir, can you, or any lawyer, divine, or casuist, cawl this a bribe? Nai, sir, in fair political reasoning, it is ainly generosity on the one side, and gratitude on the other. So, sir, let me have nai mair of your religious or philosophical refinements, but prepare, attend, and speak till the question, or you are nai son of mine. Sir, I insist upon it.
Enter SAM.
Sam. Sir, my lord says the writings are now ready, and his lordship and the lawyers are waiting for you and Mr. Egerton.
Sir Per. Vary weel: we'll attend his lordship. [Exit Sam.] I tell you, Charles, aw this conscientious refinement in politics is downright ignorance, and impracticable romance; and, sir, I desire I may hear no more of it. Come, sir, let us gang down and finish this business.
Eger. [Stopping Sir Per. as he is going off,] Sir, with your permission, I beg you will first hear a word or two upon this subject.
Sir Per. Weel, sir, what would you say?
Eger. I have often resolved to let you know my aversion to this match.—
Sir Per. How, sir!
Eger. But my respect, and fear of disobliging you, have hitherto kept me silent—
Sir Per. Your aversion! your aversion, sir! how dare you use sic language till me? Your aversion! Look you, sir, I shall cut the matter vary short:—consider, my fortune is nai inheritance; aw mine ain acquisition: I can make ducks and drakes of it; so do not provoke me, but sign the articles directly.
Eger. I beg your pardon, sir, but I must be free on this occasion, and tell you at once, that I can no longer dissemble the honest passion that fills my heart for another woman.
Sir Per. How! another woman! and, you villain, how dare you love another woman without my leave? But what other woman—wha is she? Speak, sir, speak.
Eger. Constantia.
Sir Per. Constantia! oh, you profligate! what! a creature taken in for charity!
Eger. Her poverty is not her crime, sir, but her misfortune: her birth is equal to the noblest; and virtue, tho' covered with a village garb, is virtue still; and of more worth to me than all the splendor of ermined pride or redundant wealth. Therefore, sir—
Sir Per. Haud your jabbering, you villain, haud your jabbering; none of your romance or refinement till me. I have but one question to ask you—but one question—and then I have done with you for ever, for ever; therefore think before you answer:—Will you marry the lady, or will you break my heart?
Eger. Sir, my presence shall not offend you any longer: but when reason and reflection take their turn, I am sure you will not be pleased with yourself for this unpaternal passion. [Going.
Sir Per. Tarry, I command you; and, I command you likewise not to stir till you have given me an answer, a definitive answer: Will you marry the lady, or will you not?
Eger. Since you command me, sir, know then, that I can not, will not marry her. [Exit.
Sir Per. Oh! the villain has shot me thro' the head! he has cut my vitals! I shall run distracted;—the fellow destroys aw my measures—aw my schemes:—there never was sic a bargain as I have made with this foolish lord,—possession of his whole estate, with three boroughs upon it—six members—Why, what an acquisition! what consequence! what dignity! what weight till the house of Macsycophant! O! damn the fellow! three boroughs, only for sending down six broomsticks.—O! miserable! miserable! ruined! undone! For these five and twanty years, ever since this fellow came intill the world, have I been secretly preparing him for ministerial dignity,—and with the fellow's eloquence, abilities, popularity, these boroughs, and proper connections, he might certainly, in a little time, have done the deed; and sure never were times so favorable, every thing conspires, for aw the auld political post-horses are broken-winded and foundered, and cannot get on; and as till the rising generation, the vanity of surpassing one another in what they foolishly call taste and elegance, binds them hand and foot in the chains of luxury, which will always set them up till the best bidder; so that if they can but get wherewithal to supply their dissipation, a minister may convert the political morals of aw sic voluptuaries intill a vote that would sell the nation till Prester John, and their boasted liberties till the great Mogul;—and this opportunity I shall lose by my son's marrying a vartuous beggar for love:—O! confound her vartue! it will drive me distracted. [Exit.