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diff --git a/1929-h/1929-h.htm b/1929-h/1929-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6b3a46 --- /dev/null +++ b/1929-h/1929-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6960 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The School for Scandal, by R. B. Sheridan, Esq. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The School For Scandal, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The School For Scandal + +Author: Richard Brinsley Sheridan + + +Release Date: October, 1999 [Etext #1929] +Last Updated: July 10, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL *** + + + + +Text file produced by Gary R. Young + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL + </h1> + <h3> + A COMEDY + </h3> + <h3> + A PORTRAIT<a href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BY R. B. SHERIDAN, ESQ. + </h2> + <div class="middle"> + <p> + TRANSCRIBER'S COMMENTS ON THE PREPARATION OF THIS E-TEXT: + </p> + <p> + SQUARE BRACKETS: + </p> + <p> + The square brackets, i.e. [ ] are copied from the printed book, without + change, except that a closing bracket "]" has been added to the stage + directions. + </p> + <p> + FOOTNOTES: + </p> + <p> + For this E-Text version of the book, the footnotes have been + consolidated at the end of the play. + </p> + <p> + Numbering of the footnotes has been changed, and each footnote is given + a unique identity in the form [X]. + </p> + <p> + CHANGES TO THE TEXT: + </p> + <p> + Character names have been expanded. For Example, SIR BENJAMIN was SIR + BEN. + </p> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE TEXT OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> <b>ACT I</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> SCENE I.—LADY SNEERWELL'S House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SCENE II.—SIR PETER'S House </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> <b>ACT II</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> SCENE I.—SIR PETER and LADY TEAZLE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SCENE II.—At LADY SNEERWELL'S </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SCENE III.—At SIR PETER'S </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>ACT III</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> SCENE I.—At SIR PETER'S </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> SCENE II.—At CHARLES's House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> SCENE III.—CHARLES, CARELESS, etc., etc. + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> <b>ACT IV</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> SCENE I.—A Picture Room in CHARLES + SURFACE'S House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> SCENE II.—The Parlour </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> SCENE III.—A Library </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> <b>ACT V</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> SCENE I.—The Library </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> SCENE II.—At SIR PETER'S House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> SCENE THE LAST.—The Library </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> FOOTNOTES: </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TEXT OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL + </h2> + <p> + The text of THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL in this edition is taken, by Mr. Fraser + Rae's generous permission, from his SHERIDAN'S PLAYS NOW PRINTED AS HE + WROTE THEM. In his Prefatory Notes (xxxvii), Mr. Rae writes: "The + manuscript of it [THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL] in Sheridan's own handwriting is + preserved at Frampton Court and is now printed in this volume. This + version differs in many respects from that which is generally known, and I + think it is even better than that which has hitherto been read and acted. + As I have endeavoured to reproduce the works of Sheridan as he wrote them, + I may be told that he was a bad hand at punctuating and very bad at + spelling. . . . But Sheridan's shortcomings as a speller have been + exaggerated." Lest "Sheridan's shortcomings" either in spelling or in + punctuation should obscure the text, I have, in this edition, inserted in + brackets some explanatory suggestions. It has seemed best, also, to adopt + a uniform method for indicating stage-directions and abbreviations of the + names of characters. There can be no gain to the reader in reproducing, + for example, Sheridan's different indications for the part of Lady + Sneerwell—LADY SNEERWELL, LADY SNEER., LADY SN., and LADY S.—or + his varying use of EXIT and EX., or his inconsistencies in the use of + italics in the stage-directions. Since, however, Sheridan's biographers, + from Moore to Fraser Rae, have shown that no authorised or correct edition + of THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL was published in Sheridan's lifetime, there + seems unusual justification for reproducing the text of the play itself + with absolute fidelity to the original manuscript. Mr. Ridgway, who + repeatedly sought to obtain a copy corrected by the author, according to + Moore's account (LIFE OF SHERIDAN, I. p. 260), "was told by Mr. Sheridan, + as an excuse for keeping it back, that he had been nineteen years + endeavouring to satisfy himself with the style of The School for Scandal, + but had not yet succeeded." Mr. Rae (SHERIDAN, I. p. 332) recorded his + discovery of the manuscript of "two acts of The School for Scandal + prepared by Sheridan for publication," and hoped, before his death, to + publish this partial revision. Numberless unauthorized changes in the play + have been made for histrionic purposes, from the first undated Dublin + edition to that of Mr. Augustin Daly. Current texts may usually be traced, + directly or indirectly, to the two-volume Murray edition of Sheridan's + plays, in 1821. Some of the changes from the original manuscript, such as + the blending of the parts of Miss Verjuice and Snake, are doubtless + effective for reasons of dramatic economy, but many of the "cuts" are to + be regretted from the reader's standpoint. The student of English drama + will prefer Sheridan's own text to editorial emendations, however clever + or effective for dramatic ends. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL + </h1> + <h3> + ADDRESSED TO MRS. CREWE, + </h3> + <h3> + WITH THE COMEDY OF THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tell me, ye prim adepts in Scandal's school, + Who rail by precept, and detract by rule, + Lives there no character, so tried, so known, + So deck'd with grace, and so unlike your own, + That even you assist her fame to raise, + Approve by envy, and by silence praise!— + Attend!—a model shall attract your view— + Daughters of calumny, I summon you! + You shall decide if this a portrait prove, + Or fond creation of the Muse and Love.— + Attend, ye virgin critics, shrewd and sage, + Ye matron censors of this childish age, + Whose peering eye and wrinkled front declare + A fixt antipathy to young and fair; + By cunning, cautious; or by nature, cold, + In maiden madness, virulently bold!— + Attend! ye skilled to coin the precious tale, + Creating proof, where innuendos fail! + Whose practised memories, cruelly exact, + Omit no circumstance, except the fact!— + Attend, all ye who boast,—or old or young,— + The living libel of a slanderous tongue! + So shall my theme as far contrasted be, + As saints by fiends, or hymns by calumny. + Come, gentle Amoret (for 'neath that name, + In worthier verse is sung thy beauty's fame); + Come—for but thee who seeks the Muse? and while + Celestial blushes check thy conscious smile, + With timid grace, and hesitating eye, + The perfect model, which I boast, supply:— + Vain Muse! couldst thou the humblest sketch create + Of her, or slightest charm couldst imitate— + Could thy blest strain in kindred colours trace + The faintest wonder of her form and face— + Poets would study the immortal line, + And REYNOLDS own HIS art subdued by thine; + That art, which well might added lustre give + To Nature's best and Heaven's superlative: + On GRANBY'S cheek might bid new glories rise, + Or point a purer beam from DEVON'S eyes! + Hard is the task to shape that beauty's praise, + Whose judgment scorns the homage flattery pays! + But praising Amoret we cannot err, + No tongue o'ervalues Heaven, or flatters her! + Yet she, by Fate's perverseness—she alone + Would doubt our truth, nor deem such praise her own! + Adorning Fashion, unadorn'd by dress, + Simple from taste, and not from carelessness; + Discreet in gesture, in deportment mild, + Not stiff with prudence, nor uncouthly wild: + No state has AMORET! no studied mien; + She frowns no GODDESS, and she moves no QUEEN. + The softer charm that in her manner lies + Is framed to captivate, yet not surprise; + It justly suits th' expression of her face,— + 'Tis less than dignity, and more than grace! + On her pure cheek the native hue is such, + That, form'd by Heav'n to be admired so much, + The hand divine, with a less partial care, + Might well have fix'd a fainter crimson there, + And bade the gentle inmate of her breast,— + Inshrined Modesty!—supply the rest. + But who the peril of her lips shall paint? + Strip them of smiles—still, still all words are faint! + But moving Love himself appears to teach + Their action, though denied to rule her speech; + And thou who seest her speak and dost not hear, + Mourn not her distant accents 'scape thine ear; + Viewing those lips, thou still may'st make pretence + To judge of what she says, and swear 'tis sense: + Cloth'd with such grace, with such expression fraught, + They move in meaning, and they pause in thought! + But dost thou farther watch, with charm'd surprise, + The mild irresolution of her eyes, + Curious to mark how frequent they repose, + In brief eclipse and momentary close— + Ah! seest thou not an ambush'd Cupid there, + Too tim'rous of his charge, with jealous care + Veils and unveils those beams of heav'nly light, + Too full, too fatal else, for mortal sight? + Nor yet, such pleasing vengeance fond to meet, + In pard'ning dimples hope a safe retreat. + What though her peaceful breast should ne'er allow + Subduing frowns to arm her altered brow, + By Love, I swear, and by his gentle wiles, + More fatal still the mercy of her smiles! + Thus lovely, thus adorn'd, possessing all + Of bright or fair that can to woman fall, + The height of vanity might well be thought + Prerogative in her, and Nature's fault. + Yet gentle AMORET, in mind supreme + As well as charms, rejects the vainer theme; + And, half mistrustful of her beauty's store, + She barbs with wit those darts too keen before:— + Read in all knowledge that her sex should reach, + Though GREVILLE, or the MUSE, should deign to teach, + Fond to improve, nor tim'rous to discern + How far it is a woman's grace to learn; + In MILLAR'S dialect she would not prove + Apollo's priestess, but Apollo's love, + Graced by those signs which truth delights to own, + The timid blush, and mild submitted tone: + Whate'er she says, though sense appear throughout, + Displays the tender hue of female doubt; + Deck'd with that charm, how lovely wit appears, + How graceful SCIENCE, when that robe she wears! + Such too her talents, and her bent of mind, + As speak a sprightly heart by thought refined: + A taste for mirth, by contemplation school'd, + A turn for ridicule, by candour ruled, + A scorn of folly, which she tries to hide; + An awe of talent, which she owns with pride! + Peace, idle Muse! no more thy strain prolong, + But yield a theme thy warmest praises wrong; + Just to her merit, though thou canst not raise + Thy feeble verse, behold th' acknowledged praise + Has spread conviction through the envious train, + And cast a fatal gloom o'er Scandal's reign! + And lo! each pallid hag, with blister'd tongue, + Mutters assent to all thy zeal has sung— + Owns all the colours just—the outline true; + Thee my inspirer, and my MODEL—CREWE! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE<a href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" + id="linknoteref-2">2</a> + + SIR PETER TEAZLE Mr. King + SIR OLIVER SURFACE Mr. Yates + YOUNG SURFACE Mr. Palmer + CHARLES (his Brother) Mr. Smith + CRABTREE Mr. Parsons + SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE Mr. Dodd + ROWLEY Mr. Aikin + SPUNGE + MOSES + SNAKE + CARELESS—and other companions to CHARLES + + LADY TEAZLE + MARIA + LADY SNEERWELL + MRS. CANDOUR + MISS VERJUICE +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE WRITTEN BY MR. GARRICK + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A school for Scandal! tell me, I beseech you, + Needs there a school this modish art to teach you? + No need of lessons now, the knowing think; + We might as well be taught to eat and drink. + Caused by a dearth of scandal, should the vapours + Distress our fair ones—let them read the papers; + Their powerful mixtures such disorders hit; + Crave what you will—there's quantum sufficit. + "Lord!" cries my Lady Wormwood (who loves tattle, + And puts much salt and pepper in her prattle), + Just risen at noon, all night at cards when threshing + Strong tea and scandal—"Bless me, how refreshing! + Give me the papers, Lisp—how bold and free! [Sips.] + LAST NIGHT LORD L. [Sips] WAS CAUGHT WITH LADY D. + For aching heads what charming sal volatile! [Sips.] + IF MRS. B. WILL STILL CONTINUE FLIRTING, + WE HOPE SHE'LL draw, OR WE'LL undraw THE CURTAIN. + Fine satire, poz—in public all abuse it, + But, by ourselves [Sips], our praise we can't refuse it. + Now, Lisp, read you—there, at that dash and star:" + "Yes, ma'am—A CERTAIN LORD HAD BEST BEWARE, + WHO LIVES NOT TWENTY MILES FROM GROSVENOR SQUARE; + FOR, SHOULD HE LADY W. FIND WILLING, + WORMWOOD IS BITTER"——"Oh! that's me! the villain! + Throw it behind the fire, and never more + Let that vile paper come within my door." + Thus at our friends we laugh, who feel the dart; + To reach our feelings, we ourselves must smart. + Is our young bard so young, to think that he + Can stop the full spring-tide of calumny? + Knows he the world so little, and its trade? + Alas! the devil's sooner raised than laid. + So strong, so swift, the monster there's no gagging: + Cut Scandal's head off, still the tongue is wagging. + Proud of your smiles once lavishly bestow'd, + Again our young Don Quixote takes the road; + To show his gratitude he draws his pen, + And seeks his hydra, Scandal, in his den. + For your applause all perils he would through— + He'll fight—that's write—a cavalliero true, + Till every drop of blood—that's ink—is spilt for you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I.—LADY SNEERWELL'S House + </h2> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL at her dressing table with LAPPET; MISS VERJUICE drinking + chocolate + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. The Paragraphs you say were all inserted: + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. They were Madam—and as I copied them myself in a feigned + Hand there can be no suspicion whence they came. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Did you circulate the Report of Lady Brittle's Intrigue + with Captain Boastall? + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Madam by this Time Lady Brittle is the Talk of half the Town—and + I doubt not in a week the Men will toast her as a Demirep. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. What have you done as to the insinuation as to a certain + Baronet's Lady and a certain Cook. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. That is in as fine a Train as your Ladyship could wish. I told + the story yesterday to my own maid with directions to communicate it + directly to my Hairdresser. He I am informed has a Brother who courts a + Milliners' Prentice in Pallmall whose mistress has a first cousin whose + sister is Feme [Femme] de Chambre to Mrs. Clackit—so that in the + common course of Things it must reach Mrs. Clackit's Ears within + four-and-twenty hours and then you know the Business is as good as done. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Why truly Mrs. Clackit has a very pretty Talent—a + great deal of industry—yet—yes—been tolerably successful + in her way—To my knowledge she has been the cause of breaking off + six matches[,] of three sons being disinherited and four Daughters being + turned out of Doors. Of three several Elopements, as many close + confinements—nine separate maintenances and two Divorces.—nay + I have more than once traced her causing a Tete-a-Tete in the Town and + Country Magazine—when the Parties perhaps had never seen each + other's Faces before in the course of their Lives. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. She certainly has Talents. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. But her manner is gross. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. 'Tis very true. She generally designs well[,] has a free tongue + and a bold invention—but her colouring is too dark and her outline + often extravagant—She wants that delicacy of Tint—and + mellowness of sneer—which distinguish your Ladyship's Scandal. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Ah you are Partial Verjuice. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Not in the least—everybody allows that Lady Sneerwell can + do more with a word or a Look than many can with the most laboured Detail + even when they happen to have a little truth on their side to support it. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Yes my dear Verjuice. I am no Hypocrite to deny the + satisfaction I reap from the Success of my Efforts. Wounded myself, in the + early part of my Life by the envenomed Tongue of Slander I confess I have + since known no Pleasure equal to the reducing others to the Level of my + own injured Reputation. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Nothing can be more natural—But my dear Lady Sneerwell + There is one affair in which you have lately employed me, wherein, I + confess I am at a Loss to guess your motives. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I conceive you mean with respect to my neighbour, Sir + Peter Teazle, and his Family—Lappet.—And has my conduct in + this matter really appeared to you so mysterious? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit MAID.] +</pre> + <p> + VERJUICE. Entirely so. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. [VERJUICE.?] An old Batchelor as Sir Peter was[,] having + taken a young wife from out of the Country—as Lady Teazle is—are + certainly fair subjects for a little mischievous raillery—but here + are two young men—to whom Sir Peter has acted as a kind of Guardian + since their Father's death, the eldest possessing the most amiable + Character and universally well spoken of[,] the youngest the most + dissipated and extravagant young Fellow in the Kingdom, without Friends or + caracter—the former one an avowed admirer of yours and apparently + your Favourite[,] the latter attached to Maria Sir Peter's ward—and + confessedly beloved by her. Now on the face of these circumstances it is + utterly unaccountable to me why you a young Widow with no great jointure—should + not close with the passion of a man of such character and expectations as + Mr. Surface—and more so why you should be so uncommonly earnest to + destroy the mutual Attachment subsisting between his Brother Charles and + Maria. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Then at once to unravel this mistery—I must inform + you that Love has no share whatever in the intercourse between Mr. Surface + and me. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. No! + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. His real attachment is to Maria or her Fortune—but + finding in his Brother a favoured Rival, He has been obliged to mask his + Pretensions—and profit by my Assistance. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Yet still I am more puzzled why you should interest yourself in + his success. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Heavens! how dull you are! cannot you surmise the weakness + which I hitherto, thro' shame have concealed even from you—must I + confess that Charles—that Libertine, that extravagant, that Bankrupt + in Fortune and Reputation—that He it is for whom I am thus anxious + and malicious and to gain whom I would sacrifice—everything—— + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Now indeed—your conduct appears consistent and I no longer + wonder at your enmity to Maria, but how came you and Surface so + confidential? + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. For our mutual interest—but I have found out him a + long time since[,] altho' He has contrived to deceive everybody beside—I + know him to be artful selfish and malicious—while with Sir Peter, + and indeed with all his acquaintance, He passes for a youthful Miracle of + Prudence—good sense and Benevolence. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Yes yes—I know Sir Peter vows He has not his equal in + England; and, above all, He praises him as a MAN OF SENTIMENT. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. True and with the assistance of his sentiments and + hypocrisy he has brought Sir Peter entirely in his interests with respect + to Maria and is now I believe attempting to flatter Lady Teazle into the + same good opinion towards him—while poor Charles has no Friend in + the House—though I fear he has a powerful one in Maria's Heart, + against whom we must direct our schemes. + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Mr. Surface. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Shew him up. He generally calls about this Time. I don't + wonder at People's giving him to me for a Lover. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SURFACE +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. My dear Lady Sneerwell, how do you do to-day—your most + obedient. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Miss Verjuice has just been arraigning me on our mutual + attachment now; but I have informed her of our real views and the Purposes + for which our Geniuses at present co-operate. You know how useful she has + been to us—and believe me the confidence is not ill-placed. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Madam, it is impossible for me to suspect that a Lady of Miss + Verjuice's sensibility and discernment—— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Well—well—no compliments now—but tell me + when you saw your mistress or what is more material to me your Brother. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I have not seen either since I saw you—but I can inform you + that they are at present at Variance—some of your stories have taken + good effect on Maria. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Ah! my dear Verjuice the merit of this belongs to you. But + do your Brother's Distresses encrease? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Every hour. I am told He had another execution in his house + yesterday—in short his Dissipation and extravagance exceed anything + I have ever heard of. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Poor Charles! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. True Madam—notwithstanding his Vices one can't help feeling + for him—ah poor Charles! I'm sure I wish it was in my Power to be of + any essential Service to him—for the man who does not share in the + Distresses of a Brother—even though merited by his own misconduct—deserves—— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. O Lud you are going to be moral, and forget that you are + among Friends. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Egad, that's true—I'll keep that sentiment till I see Sir + Peter. However it is certainly a charity to rescue Maria from such a + Libertine who—if He is to be reclaim'd, can be so only by a Person + of your Ladyship's superior accomplishments and understanding. + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. 'Twould be a Hazardous experiment. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. But—Madam—let me caution you to place no more + confidence in our Friend Snake the Libeller—I have lately detected + him in frequent conference with old Rowland [Rowley] who was formerly my + Father's Steward and has never been a friend of mine. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I'm not disappointed in Snake, I never suspected the + fellow to have virtue enough to be faithful even to his own Villany. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter MARIA +</pre> + <p> + Maria my dear—how do you do—what's the matter? + </p> + <p> + MARIA. O here is that disagreeable lover of mine, Sir Benjamin Backbite, + has just call'd at my guardian's with his odious Uncle Crabtree—so I + slipt out and ran hither to avoid them. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Is that all? + </p> + <p> + VERJUICE. Lady Sneerwell—I'll go and write the Letter I mention'd to + you. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. If my Brother Charles had been of the Party, madam, perhaps you + would not have been so much alarmed. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nay now—you are severe for I dare swear the Truth of + the matter is Maria heard YOU were here—but my dear—what has + Sir Benjamin done that you should avoid him so—— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Oh He has done nothing—but his conversation is a perpetual + Libel on all his Acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Aye and the worst of it is there is no advantage in not knowing + Them, for He'll abuse a stranger just as soon as his best Friend—and + Crabtree is as bad. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nay but we should make allowance[—]Sir Benjamin is a + wit and a poet. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. For my Part—I own madam—wit loses its respect with me, + when I see it in company with malice.—What do you think, Mr. + Surface? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Certainly, Madam, to smile at the jest which plants a Thorn on + another's Breast is to become a principal in the mischief. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Pshaw—there's no possibility of being witty without + a little [ill] nature—the malice of a good thing is the Barb that + makes it stick.—What's your opinion, Mr. Surface? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Certainly madam—that conversation where the Spirit of + Raillery is suppressed will ever appear tedious and insipid— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Well I'll not debate how far Scandal may be allowable—but in + a man I am sure it is always contemtable.—We have Pride, envy, + Rivalship, and a Thousand motives to depreciate each other—but the + male-slanderer must have the cowardice of a woman before He can traduce + one. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I wish my Cousin Verjuice hadn't left us—she should + embrace you. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ah! she's an old maid and is privileged of course. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + Madam Mrs. Candour is below and if your Ladyship's at leisure will leave + her carriage. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Beg her to walk in. Now, Maria[,] however here is a + Character to your Taste, for tho' Mrs. Candour is a little talkative + everybody allows her to be the best-natured and best sort of woman. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Yes with a very gross affectation of good Nature and Benevolence—she + does more mischief than the Direct malice of old Crabtree. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Efaith 'tis very true Lady Sneerwell—Whenever I hear the + current running again the characters of my Friends, I never think them in + such Danger as when Candour undertakes their Defence. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Hush here she is—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter MRS. CANDOUR +</pre> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. My dear Lady Sneerwell how have you been this Century. I + have never seen you tho' I have heard of you very often.—Mr. Surface—the + World says scandalous things of you—but indeed it is no matter what + the world says, for I think one hears nothing else but scandal. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Just so, indeed, Ma'am. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Ah Maria Child—what[!] is the whole affair off between + you and Charles? His extravagance; I presume—The Town talks of + nothing else—— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. I am very sorry, Ma'am, the Town has so little to do. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. True, true, Child; but there's no stopping people's Tongues. + I own I was hurt to hear it—as I indeed was to learn from the same + quarter that your guardian, Sir Peter[,] and Lady Teazle have not agreed + lately so well as could be wish'd. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. 'Tis strangely impertinent for people to busy themselves so. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Very true, Child; but what's to be done? People will talk—there's + no preventing it.—why it was but yesterday I was told that Miss + Gadabout had eloped with Sir Filagree Flirt. But, Lord! there is no + minding what one hears; tho' to be sure I had this from very good + authority. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Such reports are highly scandalous. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. So they are Child—shameful! shameful! but the world is + so censorious no character escapes. Lord, now! who would have suspected + your friend, Miss Prim, of an indiscretion Yet such is the ill-nature of + people, that they say her unkle stopped her last week just as she was + stepping into a Postchaise with her Dancing-master. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. I'll answer for't there are no grounds for the Report. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Oh, no foundation in the world I dare swear[;] no more + probably than for the story circulated last month, of Mrs. Festino's + affair with Colonel Cassino—tho' to be sure that matter was never + rightly clear'd up. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. The license of invention some people take is monstrous indeed. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. 'Tis so but in my opinion, those who report such things are equally + culpable. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. To be sure they are[;] Tale Bearers are as bad as the Tale + makers—'tis an old observation and a very true one—but what's + to be done as I said before—how will you prevent People from talking—to-day, + Mrs. Clackitt assured me, Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become mere + man and wife—like [the rest of their] acquaintance—she + likewise hinted that a certain widow in the next street had got rid of her + Dropsy and recovered her shape in a most surprising manner—at the + same [time] Miss Tattle, who was by affirm'd, that Lord Boffalo had + discover'd his Lady at a house of no extraordinary Fame—and that Sir + Harry Bouquet and Tom Saunter were to measure swords on a similar + Provocation. But—Lord! do you think I would report these Things—No, + no[!] Tale Bearers as I said before are just as bad as the talemakers. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ah! Mrs. Candour, if everybody had your Forbearance and good + nature— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I confess Mr. Surface I cannot bear to hear People traduced + behind their Backs[;] and when ugly circumstances come out against our + acquaintances I own I always love to think the best—by the bye I + hope 'tis not true that your Brother is absolutely ruin'd— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I am afraid his circumstances are very bad indeed, Ma'am— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Ah! I heard so—but you must tell him to keep up his + Spirits—everybody almost is in the same way—Lord Spindle, Sir + Thomas Splint, Captain Quinze, and Mr. Nickit—all up, I hear, within + this week; so, if Charles is undone, He'll find half his Acquaintance + ruin'd too, and that, you know, is a consolation— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Doubtless, Ma'am—a very great one. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + SERVANT. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Soh! Maria, you see your lover pursues you—Positively + you shan't escape. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter CRABTREE and SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. Lady Sneerwell, I kiss your hand. Mrs. Candour I don't believe + you are acquainted with my Nephew Sir Benjamin Backbite—Egad, Ma'am, + He has a pretty wit—and is a pretty Poet too isn't He Lady + Sneerwell? + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O fie, Uncle! + </p> + <p> + 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 + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Dear Uncle—now—prithee—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Efaith, Ma'am—'twould surprise you to hear how ready he is + at all these Things. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I wonder Sir Benjamin you never publish anything. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + [Pointing to MARIA.] + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. 'Fore Heaven, ma'am, they'll immortalize you—you'll be + handed down to Posterity, like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. But Ladies, have you heard the news? + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. What, Sir, do you mean the Report of—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. No ma'am that's not it.—Miss Nicely is going to be married + to her own Footman. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Impossible! + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Ask Sir Benjamin. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. 'Tis very true, Ma'am—everything is fixed and the + wedding Livery bespoke. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes and they say there were pressing reasons for't. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. It cannot be—and I wonder any one should believe such + a story of so prudent a Lady as Miss Nicely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Well but this may be all mistake—You know, Sir + Benjamin very trifling circumstances often give rise to the most injurious + Tales. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O to be sure the most whimsical circumstance— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. How was it Pray— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Strange indeed! + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Matter of Fact, I assure you—O Lud! Mr. Surface pray is it + true that your uncle Sir Oliver is coming home— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Not that I know of indeed Sir. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. This may be entertainment to you Gentlemen but you pay very + little regard to the Feelings of a Brother. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Their malice is intolerable—Lady Sneerwell I must wish you a + good morning—I'm not very well. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit MARIA.] +</pre> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. O dear she chang'd colour very much! + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Do Mrs. Candour follow her—she may want assistance. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. That I will with all my soul ma'am.—Poor dear Girl—who + knows—what her situation may be! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit MRS. CANDOUR.] +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. 'Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear Charles + reflected on notwithstanding their difference. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. The young Lady's Penchant is obvious. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Mr. Surface I did not mean to hurt you—but depend on't + your Brother is utterly undone— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going.] +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. O Lud! aye—undone—as ever man was—can't raise + a guinea. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. And everything sold—I'm told—that was movable— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going.] +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. And I'm very sorry to hear also some bad stories against + him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going.] +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. O He has done many mean things—that's certain! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. But however as He is your Brother—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going.] +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. We'll tell you all another opportunity. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Ha! ha! ha! 'tis very hard for them to leave a subject + they have not quite run down. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. And I believe the Abuse was no more acceptable to your Ladyship + than Maria. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II.—SIR PETER'S House + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + 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 the 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + ROWLEY. Sir Peter, your servant:—how is 't with you Sir— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Very bad—Master Rowley—very bad[.] I meet with + nothing but crosses and vexations— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. What can have happened to trouble you since yesterday? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A good—question to a married man— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Nay I'm sure your Lady Sir Peter can't be the cause of your + uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Why has anybody told you she was dead[?] + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your tempers + do not exactly agree. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Indeed! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What! let me hear— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Sir Oliver is arrived and at this moment in Town. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. How!—you astonish me—I thought you did not expect + him this month!— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I did not—but his Passage has been remarkably quick. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Yes and will soon wish you joy. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. By no means. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I understand you—but then you must be very careful not to + differ while He's in the House with you. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] + + END OF THE FIRST ACT +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I.—SIR PETER and LADY TEAZLE + </h2> + <h3> + SIR PETER. Lady Teazle—Lady Teazle I'll not bear it. + </h3> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Very well! ma'am very well! so a husband is to have no + influence, no authority? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a + woman of Fashion ought to be. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No, no, I don't—'twas a very disagreeable one or I + should never nave married you. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O horrible!—horrible!—don't put me in mind of it! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Abominable! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Scandalous—Sir Peter not a word of it true— + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Shocking! horrible Roll!! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. But now—you must have your coach—Vis-a-vis, and + three powder'd Footmen before your Chair—and in the 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? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Horrid!—I swear I never did. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Well then and there is but one thing more you can make me to + add to the obligation. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What's that pray? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Your widow.— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable + to me—and thwart me in every little elegant expense. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. 'Slife—Madam I pray, had you any of these elegant + expenses when you married me? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Lud Sir Peter would you have me be out of the Fashion? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. The Fashion indeed!—what had you to do with the Fashion + before you married me? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. For my Part—I should think you would like to have your + wife thought a woman of Taste— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye there again—Taste! Zounds Madam you had no Taste when + you married me— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. That's very true indeed Sir Peter! after having married you I + should never pretend to Taste again I allow. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. So—so then—Madam—if these are your Sentiments + pray how came I to be honour'd with your Hand? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Shall I tell you the Truth? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. If it's not too great a Favour. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A very honest confession—truly—but pray madam was + there no one else you might have tried to ensnare but me. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O lud—I drew my net at several but you were the only + one I could catch. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. This is plain dealing indeed— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. But now Sir Peter if we have finish'd our daily Jangle I + presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye—there's another Precious circumstance—a + charming set of acquaintance—you have made there! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Nay Sir Peter they are People of Rank and Fortune—and + remarkably tenacious of reputation. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes egad they are tenacious of Reputation with a vengeance, for + they don't chuse anybody should have a Character but themselves! Such a + crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on hurdles who has done less mischief than + these utterers of forged Tales, coiners of Scandal, and clippers of + Reputation. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. What would you restrain the freedom of speech? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye they have made you just as bad [as] any one of the Society. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Why—I believe I do bear a Part with a tolerable Grace—But + I vow I bear no malice against the People I abuse, when I say an + ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure Good Humour—and I take it for + granted they deal exactly in the same manner with me, but Sir Peter you + know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well well I'll call in, just to look after my own character. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Then, indeed, you must make Haste after me, or you'll be too + late—so good bye to ye. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. So—I have gain'd much by my intended expostulation—yet + with what a charming air she contradicts every thing I say—and how + pleasingly she shows her contempt of my authority—Well tho' I can't + make her love me, there is certainly a great satisfaction in quarrelling + with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she is + doing everything in her Power to plague me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II.—At LADY SNEERWELL'S + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LADY SNEERWELL, MRS. CANDOUR, CRABTREE, SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE, + and SURFACE +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nay, positively, we will hear it. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yes—yes the Epigram by all means. + </p> + <p> + SiR BENJAMIN. O plague on't unkle—'tis mere nonsense— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. No no; 'fore gad very clever for an extempore! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. But ladies you should be acquainted with the circumstances. + You must know that one day last week as Lady Betty Curricle was taking the + Dust in High Park, in a sort of duodecimo Phaeton—she desired me to + write some verses on her Ponies—upon which I took out my Pocket-Book—and + in one moment produced—the following:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Sure never were seen two such beautiful Ponies; + Other Horses are Clowns—and these macaronies, + Nay to give 'em this Title, I'm sure isn't wrong, + Their Legs are so slim—and their Tails are so long. +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. There Ladies—done in the smack of a whip and on Horseback + too. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. A very Phoebus, mounted—indeed Sir Benjamin. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Oh dear Sir—Trifles—Trifles. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter LADY TEAZLE and MARIA +</pre> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I must have a Copy— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Lady Teazle—I hope we shall see Sir Peter? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I believe He'll wait on your Ladyship presently. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Maria my love you look grave. Come, you sit down to Piquet + with Mr. Surface. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. I take very little Pleasure in cards—however, I'll do as you + Please. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I am surprised Mr. Surface should sit down her—I + thought He would have embraced this opportunity of speaking to me before + Sir Peter came—[Aside.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Now, I'll die but you are so scandalous I'll forswear your + society. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. What's the matter, Mrs. Candour? + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. They'll not allow our friend Miss Vermillion to be handsome. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Oh, surely she is a pretty woman. . . . + </p> + <p> + [CRABTREE.] I am very glad you think so ma'am. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. She has a charming fresh Colour. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes when it is fresh put on— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O fie! I'll swear her colour is natural—I have seen it + come and go— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. I dare swear you have, ma'am: it goes of a Night, and comes + again in the morning. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. True, uncle, it not only comes and goes but what's more egad + her maid can fetch and carry it— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Ha! ha! ha! how I hate to hear you talk so! But surely, now, + her Sister, is or was very handsome. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Who? Mrs. Stucco? O lud! she's six-and-fifty if she's an hour! + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Now positively you wrong her[;] fifty-two, or fifty-three is + the utmost—and I don't think she looks more. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Ah! there's no judging by her looks, unless one was to see + her Face. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Well—well—if she does take some pains to + repair the ravages of Time—you must allow she effects it with great + ingenuity—and surely that's better than the careless manner in which + the widow Ocre chaulks her wrinkles. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Nay now—you are severe upon the widow—come—come, + it isn't that she paints so ill—but when she has finished her Face + she joins it on so badly to her Neck, that she looks like a mended Statue, + in which the Connoisseur sees at once that the Head's modern tho' the + Trunk's antique—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Ha! ha! ha! well said, Nephew! + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Ha! ha! ha! Well, you make me laugh but I vow I hate you for + it—what do you think of Miss Simper? + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Why, she has very pretty Teeth. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Yes and on that account, when she is neither speaking nor + laughing (which very seldom happens)—she never absolutely shuts her + mouth, but leaves it always on a-Jar, as it were—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. How can you be so ill-natured! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Nay, I allow even that's better than the Pains Mrs. Prim + takes to conceal her losses in Front—she draws her mouth till it + resembles the aperture of a Poor's-Box, and all her words appear to slide + out edgewise. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Very well Lady Teazle I see you can be a little severe. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. In defence of a Friend it is but justice, but here comes Sir + Peter to spoil our Pleasantry. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ladies, your obedient—Mercy on me—here is the whole + set! a character's dead at every word, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I am rejoiced you are come, Sir Peter—they have been + so censorious and Lady Teazle as bad as any one. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. That must be very distressing to you, Mrs. Candour I dare + swear. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. O they will allow good Qualities to nobody—not even + good nature to our Friend Mrs. Pursy. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. What, the fat dowager who was at Mrs. Codrille's + [Quadrille's] last Night? + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nay—her bulk is her misfortune and when she takes + such Pains to get rid of it you ought not to reflect on her. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. 'Tis very true, indeed. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Yes, I know she almost lives on acids and small whey—laces + herself by pulleys and often in the hottest noon of summer you may see her + on a little squat Pony, with her hair plaited up behind like a Drummer's + and puffing round the Ring on a full trot. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I thank you Lady Teazle for defending her. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes, a good Defence, truly! + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. But for Sir Benjamin, He is as censorious as Miss Sallow. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes and she is a curious Being to pretend to be censorious—an + awkward Gawky, without any one good Point under Heaven! + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Positively you shall not be so very severe. Miss Sallow is + a Relation of mine by marriage, and, as for her Person great allowance is + to be made—for, let me tell you a woman labours under many + disadvantages who tries to pass for a girl at six-and-thirty. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Tho', surely she is handsome still—and for the + weakness in her eyes considering how much she reads by candle-light it is + not to be wonder'd at. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. True and then as to her manner—upon my word I think + it is particularly graceful considering she never had the least + Education[:] for you know her Mother was a Welch milliner, and her Father + a sugar-Baker at Bristow.— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Ah! you are both of you too good-natured! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes, damned good-natured! Her own relation! mercy on me! + [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. For my Part I own I cannot bear to hear a friend ill-spoken + of? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No, to be sure! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Ah you are of a moral turn Mrs. Candour and can sit for an + hour to hear Lady Stucco talk sentiments. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nay I vow Lady Stucco is very well with the Dessert after + Dinner for she's just like the Spanish Fruit one cracks for mottoes—made + up of Paint and Proverb. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Well, I never will join in ridiculing a Friend—and so + I constantly tell my cousin Ogle—and you all know what pretensions + she has to be critical in Beauty. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O to be sure she has herself the oddest countenance that ever + was seen—'tis a collection of Features from all the different + Countries of the globe. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. So she has indeed—an Irish Front—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Caledonian Locks—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Dutch Nose—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Austrian Lips—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Complexion of a Spaniard—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. And Teeth a la Chinoise—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. In short, her Face resembles a table d'hote at Spa—where + no two guests are of a nation—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Or a Congress at the close of a general War—wherein all + the members even to her eyes appear to have a different interest and her + Nose and Chin are the only Parties likely to join issue. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Ha! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Mercy on my Life[!] a Person they dine with twice a week! + [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Go—go—you are a couple of provoking Toads. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Nay but I vow you shall not carry the Laugh off so—for + give me leave to say, that Mrs. Ogle—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Madam—madam—I beg your Pardon—there's no + stopping these good Gentlemen's Tongues—but when I tell you Mrs. + Candour that the Lady they are abusing is a particular Friend of mine, I + hope you'll not take her Part. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Ha! ha! ha! well said, Sir Peter—but you are a cruel + creature—too Phlegmatic yourself for a jest and too peevish to allow + wit in others. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah Madam true wit is more nearly allow'd [allied?] to good + Nature than your Ladyship is aware of. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. True Sir Peter—I believe they are so near akin that + they can never be united. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O rather Madam suppose them man and wife because one seldom + sees them together. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. But Sir Peter is such an Enemy to Scandal I believe He would + have it put down by Parliament. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. 'Fore heaven! Madam, if they were to consider the Sporting with + Reputation of as much importance as poaching on manors—and pass an + Act for the Preservation of Fame—there are many would thank them for + the Bill. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. O Lud! Sir Peter would you deprive us of our Privileges— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye Madam—and then no person should be permitted to kill + characters or run down reputations, but qualified old Maids and + disappointed Widows.— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Go, you monster— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. But sure you would not be quite so severe on those who only + report what they hear? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes Madam, I would have Law Merchant for that too—and in + all cases of slander currency, whenever the Drawer of the Lie was not to + be found, the injured Party should have a right to come on any of the + indorsers. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Well for my Part I believe there never was a Scandalous Tale + without some foundation.<a href="#linknote-3" name="linknoteref-3" + id="linknoteref-3"><small>3</small></a> + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Come Ladies shall we sit down to Cards in the next Room? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT, whispers SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. I'll be with them directly.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SERVANT.] +I'll get away unperceived. +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Sir Peter you are not leaving us? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Your Ladyship must excuse me—I'm called away by + particular Business—but I leave my Character behind me— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Well certainly Lady Teazle that lord of yours is a strange + being—I could tell you some stories of him would make you laugh + heartily if He wern't your Husband. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O pray don't mind that—come do let's hear 'em. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [join the rest of the Company going into the Next Room.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Maria I see you have no satisfaction in this society. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. How is it possible I should? If to raise malicious smiles at the + infirmities or misfortunes of those who have never injured us be the + province of wit or Humour, Heaven grant me a double Portion of Dullness— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yet they appear more ill-natured than they are—they have no + malice at heart— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Then is their conduct still more contemptible[;] for in my opinion—nothing + could excuse the intemperance of their tongues but a natural and + ungovernable bitterness of Mind. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Undoubtedly Madam—and it has always been a sentiment of + mine—that to propagate a malicious Truth wantonly—is more + despicable than to falsify from Revenge, but can you Maria feel thus [f]or + others and be unkind to me alone—nay is hope to be denied the + tenderest Passion.— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Why will you distress me by renewing this subject— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ah! Maria! you would not treat me thus and oppose your guardian's + Sir Peter's wishes—but that I see that my Profligate Brother is + still a favour'd Rival. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Ungenerously urged—but whatever my sentiments of that + unfortunate young man are, be assured I shall not feel more bound to give + him up because his Distresses have sunk him so low as to deprive him of + the regard even of a Brother. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Nay but Maria do not leave me with a Frown—by all that's + honest, I swear——Gad's Life here's Lady Teazle—you must + not—no you shall—for tho' I have the greatest Regard for Lady + Teazle—— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Lady Teazle! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yet were Sir Peter to suspect—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Enter LADY TEAZLE, and comes forward] +</pre> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. What's this, Pray—do you take her for me!—Child + you are wanted in the next Room.—What's all this, pray— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O the most unlucky circumstance in Nature. Maria has somehow + suspected the tender concern I have for your happiness, and threaten'd to + acquaint Sir Peter with her suspicions—and I was just endeavouring + to reason with her when you came. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Indeed but you seem'd to adopt—a very tender mode of + reasoning—do you usually argue on your knees? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O she's a Child—and I thought a little Bombast——but + Lady Teazle when are you to give me your judgment on my Library as you + promised—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No—no I begin to think it would be imprudent—and + you know I admit you as a Lover no farther than Fashion requires. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. True—a mere Platonic Cicisbeo, what every London wife is + entitled to. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Certainly one must not be out of the Fashion—however, I + have so much of my country Prejudices left—that—though Sir + Peter's ill humour may vex me ever so, it never shall provoke me to—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. The only revenge in your Power—well I applaud your + moderation. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Go—you are an insinuating Hypocrite—but we shall + be miss'd—let us join the company. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. True, but we had best not return together. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Well don't stay—for Maria shan't come to hear any more + of your Reasoning, I promise you— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. A curious Dilemma truly my Politics have run me into. I wanted at + first only to ingratiate myself with Lady Teazle that she might not be my + enemy with Maria—and I have I don't know how—become her + serious Lover, so that I stand a chance of Committing a Crime I never + meditated—and probably of losing Maria by the Pursuit!—Sincerely + I begin to wish I had never made such a Point of gaining so very good a + character, for it has led me into so many curst Rogueries that I doubt I + shall be exposed at last. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III.—At SIR PETER'S + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —ROWLEY and SIR OLIVER— +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ha! ha! ha! and so my old Friend is married, hey?—a + young wife out of the country!—ha! ha! that he should have stood + Bluff to old Bachelor so long and sink into a Husband at last! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. But you must not rally him on the subject Sir Oliver—'tis a + tender Point I assure you though He has been married only seven months. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ah then he has been just half a year on the stool of + Repentance—Poor Peter! But you say he has entirely given up Charles—never + sees him, hey? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. His Prejudice against him is astonishing—and I am sure + greatly increased by a jealousy of him with Lady Teazle—which he has + been industriously led into by a scandalous Society—in the + neighbourhood—who have contributed not a little to Charles's ill + name. Whereas the truth is[,] I believe[,] if the lady is partial to + either of them his Brother is the Favourite. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye—I know—there are a set of malicious prating + prudent Gossips both male and Female, who murder characters to kill time, + and will rob a young Fellow of his good name before He has years to know + the value of it. . . but I am not to be prejudiced against my nephew by + such I promise you! No! no—if Charles has done nothing false or + mean, I shall compound for his extravagance. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Then my life on't, you will reclaim him. Ah, Sir, it gives me new + vigour to find that your heart is not turned against him—and that + the son of my good old master has one friend however left— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What! shall I forget Master Rowley—when I was at his + house myself—egad my Brother and I were neither of us very prudent + youths—and yet I believe you have not seen many better men than your + old master was[.] + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. 'Tis this Reflection gives me assurance that Charles may yet be a + credit to his Family—but here comes Sir Peter—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Egad so He does—mercy on me—He's greatly altered—and + seems to have a settled married look—one may read Husband in his + Face at this Distance.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ha! Sir Oliver—my old Friend—welcome to England—a + thousand Times! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Thank you—thank you—Sir Peter—and Efaith I + am as glad to find you well[,] believe me— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah! 'tis a long time since we met—sixteen year I doubt + Sir Oliver—and many a cross accident in the Time— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye I have had my share—but, what[!] I find you are + married—hey my old Boy—well—well it can't be help'd—and + so I wish you joy with all my heart— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Thank you—thanks Sir Oliver.—Yes, I have entered + into the happy state but we'll not talk of that now. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. True true Sir Peter old Friends shouldn't begin on grievances + at first meeting. No, no— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Take care pray Sir—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well—so one of my nephews I find is a wild Rogue—hey? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Wild!—oh! my old Friend—I grieve for your + disappointment there—He's a lost young man indeed—however his + Brother will make you amends; Joseph is indeed what a youth should be—everybody + in the world speaks well of him— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I am sorry to hear it—he has too good a character to be + an honest Fellow. Everybody speaks well of him! Psha! then He has bow'd as + low to Knaves and Fools as to the honest dignity of Virtue. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What Sir Oliver do you blame him for not making Enemies? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes—if He has merit enough to deserve them. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—well—you'll be convinced when you know him—'tis + edification to hear him converse—he professes the noblest + Sentiments. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ah plague on his Sentiments—if he salutes me with a + scrap sentence of morality in his mouth I shall be sick directly—but + however don't mistake me Sir Peter I don't mean to defend Charles's Errors—but + before I form my judgment of either of them, I intend to make a trial of + their Hearts—and my Friend Rowley and I have planned something for + the Purpose. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. And Sir Peter shall own he has been for once mistaken. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. My life on Joseph's Honour—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well come give us a bottle of good wine—and we'll drink + the Lads' Healths and tell you our scheme. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Alons [Allons], then—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But don't Sir Peter be so severe against your old Friend's + son. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. 'Tis his Vices and Follies have made me his Enemy.— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Come—come—Sir Peter consider how early He was left to + his own guidance. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Odds my Life—I am not sorry that He has run out of the + course a little—for my Part, I hate to see dry Prudence clinging to + the green juices of youth—'tis like ivy round a sapling and spoils + the growth of the Tree. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + END OF THE SECOND ACT +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I.—At SIR PETER'S + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SIR PETER, SIR OLIVER, and ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well, then, we will see the Fellows first and have our wine + afterwards.—but how is this, Master Rowley—I don't see the Jet + of your scheme. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Why Sir—this Mr. Stanley whom I was speaking of, is nearly + related to them by their mother. He was once a merchant in Dublin—but + has been ruined by a series of undeserved misfortunes—and now lately + coming over to solicit the assistance of his friends here—has been + flyng [flung] into prison by some of his Creditors—where he is now + with two helpless Boys.— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye and a worthy Fellow too I remember him. But what is this + to lead to—? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. You shall hear—He has applied by letter both to Mr. Surface + and Charles—from the former he has received nothing but evasive + promises of future service, while Charles has done all that his + extravagance has left him power to do—and He is at this time + endeavouring to raise a sum of money—part of which, in the midst of + his own distresses, I know He intends for the service of poor Stanley. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ah! he is my Brother's Son. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well, but how is Sir Oliver personally to—— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Why Sir I will inform Charles and his Brother that Stanley has + obtain'd permission to apply in person to his Friends—and as they + have neither of them ever seen him[,] let Sir Oliver assume his character—and + he will have a fair opportunity of judging at least of the Benevolence of + their Dispositions. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Pshaw! this will prove nothing—I make no doubt Charles is + Coxcomb and thoughtless enough to give money to poor relations if he had + it— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Then He shall never want it—. I have brought a few + Rupees home with me Sir Peter—and I only want to be sure of + bestowing them rightly.— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Then Sir believe me you will find in the youngest Brother one who + in the midst of Folly and dissipation—has still, as our immortal + Bard expresses it,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "a Tear for Pity and a Hand open as the day for melting Charity." +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Pish! What signifies his having an open Hand or Purse either + when He has nothing left to give!—but if you talk of humane + Sentiments—Joseph is the man—Well, well, make the trial, if + you please. But where is the fellow whom you brought for Sir Oliver to + examine, relative to Charles's affairs? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Below waiting his commands, and no one can give him better + intelligence—This, Sir Oliver, is a friendly Jew, who to do him + justice, has done everything in his power to bring your nephew to a proper + sense of his extravagance. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Pray let us have him in. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Desire Mr. Moses to walk upstairs. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Calls to SERVANT.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. But Pray why should you suppose he will speak the truth? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Oh, I have convinced him that he has no chance of recovering + certain Sums advanced to Charles but through the bounty of Sir Oliver, who + He knows is arrived; so that you may depend on his Fidelity to his + interest. I have also another evidence in my Power, one Snake, whom I + shall shortly produce to remove some of YOUR Prejudices[,] Sir Peter[,] + relative to Charles and Lady Teazle. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I have heard too much on that subject. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Here comes the honest Israelite. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter MOSES +—This is Sir Oliver. +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Sir—I understand you have lately had great dealings with + my Nephew Charles. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes Sir Oliver—I have done all I could for him, but He was + ruined before He came to me for Assistance. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. That was unlucky truly—for you have had no opportunity + of showing your Talents. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. None at all—I hadn't the Pleasure of knowing his Distresses + till he was some thousands worse than nothing, till it was impossible to + add to them. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Unfortunate indeed! but I suppose you have done all in your + Power for him honest Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes he knows that—This very evening I was to have brought him + a gentleman from the city who does not know him and will I believe advance + some money. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What[!] one Charles has never had money from before? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes[—]Mr. Premium, of Crutched Friars. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Egad, Sir Oliver a Thought strikes me!—Charles you say + does'nt know Mr. Premium? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Not at all. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Now then Sir Oliver you may have a better opportunity of + satisfying yourself than by an old romancing tale of a poor Relation—go + with my friend Moses and represent Mr. Premium and then I'll answer for't + you'll see your Nephew in all his glory. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Egad I like this Idea better than the other, and I may visit + Joseph afterwards as old Stanley. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. True so you may. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Well this is taking Charles rather at a disadvantage, to be sure—however + Moses—you understand Sir Peter and will be faithful—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. You may depend upon me—and this is near the Time I was to + have gone. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I'll accompany you as soon as you please, Moses——but + hold—I have forgot one thing—how the plague shall I be able to + pass for a Jew? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. There's no need—the Principal is Christian. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Is He—I'm very sorry to hear it—but then again—an't + I rather too smartly dressed to look like a money-Lender? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Not at all; 'twould not be out of character, if you went in + your own carriage—would it, Moses! + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Not in the least. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well—but—how must I talk[?] there's certainly some + cant of usury and mode of treating that I ought to know. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Oh, there's not much to learn—the great point as I take + it is to be exorbitant enough in your Demands hey Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes that's very great Point. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I'll answer for't I'll not be wanting in that—I'll ask + him eight or ten per cent. on the loan—at least. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. You'll be found out directly—if you ask him no more than + that, you'll be discovered immediately. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Hey!—what the Plague!—how much then? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. That depends upon the Circumstances—if he appears not very + anxious for the supply, you should require only forty or fifty per cent.—but + if you find him in great Distress, and want the monies very bad—you + may ask double. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A good—[h]onest Trade you're learning, Sir Oliver— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Truly, I think so—and not unprofitable— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Then you know—you haven't the monies yourself, but are forced + to borrow them for him of a Friend. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. O I borrow it of a Friend do I? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. And your friend is an unconscion'd Dog—but you can't help it. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. My Friend's an unconscionable Dog, is he? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes—and He himself hasn't the monies by him—but is + forced to sell stock—at a great loss— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. He is forced to sell stock is he—at a great loss, is he—well + that's very kind of him— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Efaith, Sir Oliver—Mr. Premium I mean—you'll soon + be master of the Trade—but, Moses would have him inquire if the + borrower is a minor— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. O yes— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And in that case his Conscience will direct him— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. To have the Bond in another Name to be sure. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well—well I shall be perfect— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. But hearkee wouldn't you have him also run out a little against + the annuity Bill—that would be in character I should think— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Very much— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. And lament that a young man now must be at years of discretion + before He is suffered to ruin himself! + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Aye, great Pity! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And abuse the Public for allowing merit to an act whose only + object is to snatch misfortune and imprudence from the rapacious Relief of + usury! and give the minor a chance of inheriting his estate without being + undone by coming into Possession. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. So—so—Moses shall give me further instructions as + we go together. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. You will not have much time[,] for your Nephew lives hard bye— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Oh Never—fear[:] my Tutor appears so able that tho' + Charles lived in the next street it must be my own Fault if I am not a + compleat Rogue before I turn the Corner— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt SIR OLIVER and MOSES.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. So—now I think Sir Oliver will be convinced—you + shan't follow them Rowley. You are partial and would have prepared Charles + for 'tother plot. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. No upon my word Sir Peter— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +SIR PETER. Well, go bring me this Snake, and I'll hear what he has to +say presently. I see Maria, and want to speak with her.— + + [Exit ROWLEY.] +I should be glad to be convinced my suspicions of Lady Teazle and +Charles were unjust—I have never yet opened my mind on this subject to +my Friend Joseph. . . . I am determined. I will do it—He will give me +his opinion sincerely.— + + Enter MARIA +</pre> + <p> + So Child—has Mr. Surface returned with you— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. No Sir—He was engaged. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—Maria—do you not reflect[,] the more you + converse with that amiable young man[,] what return his Partiality for you + deserves? + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Indeed Sir Peter—your frequent importunity on this subject + distresses me extremely—you compell me to Declare that I know no man + who has ever paid me a particular Attention whom I would not prefer to Mr. + Surface— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Soh! Here's Perverseness—no—no—Maria, 'tis + Charles only whom you would prefer—'tis evident his Vices and + Follies have won your Heart. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. This is unkind Sir—You know I have obey'd you in neither + seeing nor corresponding with him—I have heard enough to convince me + that He is unworthy my regard—Yet I cannot think it culpable—if + while my understanding severely condemns his Vices, my Heart suggests some + Pity for his Distresses. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well well pity him as much as you please, but give your Heart + and Hand to a worthier object. + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Never to his Brother! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Go—perverse and obstinate! but take care, Madam—you + have never yet known what the authority of a Guardian is—don't + compel me to inform you of it.— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. I can only say, you shall not have just Reason—'tis true, by + my Father's will I am for a short period bound to regard you as his + substitute, but I must cease to think you so when you would compel me to + be miserable. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Was ever man so crossed as I am[?] everything conspiring to + fret me! I had not been involved in matrimony a fortnight[,] before her + Father—a hale and hearty man, died on purpose, I believe—for + the Pleasure of plaguing me with the care of his Daughter . . . but here + comes my Helpmate!—She appears in great good humour——how + happy I should be if I could teaze her into loving me tho' but a little—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter LADY TEAZLE +</pre> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Lud! Sir Peter I hope you haven't been quarrelling with + Maria? It isn't using me well to be ill humour'd when I am not bye—! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah! Lady Teazle you might have the Power to make me good + humour'd at all times— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I am sure—I wish I had—for I want you to be in a + charming sweet temper at this moment—do be good humour'd now—and + let me have two hundred Pounds will you? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Two hundred Pounds! what an't I to be in a good humour without + paying for it—but speak to me thus—and Efaith there's nothing + I could refuse you. You shall have it—but seal me a bond for the + repayment. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O no—there—my Note of Hand will do as well— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And you shall no longer reproach me with not giving you an + independent settlement—I shall shortly surprise you—and you'll + not call me ungenerous—but shall we always live thus—hey? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. If you—please—I'm sure I don't care how soon we + leave off quarrelling provided you'll own you were tired first— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—then let our future contest be who shall be most + obliging. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I assure you Sir Peter Good Nature becomes you—you look + now as you did before we were married—when you used to walk with me + under the Elms, and tell me stories of what a Gallant you were in your + youth—and chuck me under the chin you would—and ask me if I + thought I could love an old Fellow who would deny me nothing—didn't + you? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes—yes—and you were as kind and attentive—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Aye so I was—and would always take your Part, when my + acquaintance used to abuse you and turn you into ridicule— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Indeed! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Aye—and when my cousin Sophy has called you a stiff + peevish old batchelor and laugh'd at me for thinking of marrying one who + might be my Father—I have always defended you—and said I + didn't think you so ugly by any means, and that you'd make a very good + sort of a husband— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And you prophesied right—and we shall certainly now be + the happiest couple—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. And never differ again. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No never—tho' at the same time indeed—my dear Lady + Teazle—you must watch your Temper very narrowly—for in all our + little Quarrels—my dear—if you recollect my Love you always + began first— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I beg your Pardon—my dear Sir Peter—indeed—you + always gave the provocation. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Now—see, my Love take care—contradicting isn't the + way to keep Friends. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Then don't you begin it my Love! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. There now—you are going on—you don't perceive[,] my + Life, that you are just doing the very thing my Love which you know always + makes me angry. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Nay—you know if you will be angry without any reason—my + Dear—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. There now you want to quarrel again. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No—I am sure I don't—but if you will be so + peevish—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. There—now who begins first? + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Why you to be sure—I said nothing[—]but there's + no bearing your Temper. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No—no—my dear—the fault's in your own temper. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Aye you are just what my Cousin Sophy said you would be— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Your Cousin Sophy—is a forward impertinent Gipsey— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Go you great Bear—how dare you abuse my Relations— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Now may all the Plagues of marriage be doubled on me, if ever I + try to be Friends with you any more—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. So much the Better. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No—no Madam 'tis evident you never cared a pin for me—I + was a madman to marry you— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. And I am sure I was a Fooll to marry you—an old + dangling Batchelor, who was single of [at] fifty—only because He + never could meet with any one who would have him. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye—aye—Madam—but you were pleased enough to + listen to me—you never had such an offer before— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No—didn't I refuse Sir Jeremy Terrier—who + everybody said would have been a better Match—for his estate is just + as good as yours—and he has broke his Neck since we have been + married! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I have done with you Madam! You are an unfeeling—ungrateful—but + there's an end of everything—I believe you capable of anything + that's bad—Yes, Madam—I now believe the Reports relative to + you and Charles—Madam—yes—Madam—you and Charles + are—not without grounds—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Take—care Sir Peter—you had better not insinuate + any such thing! I'll not be suspected without cause I promise you—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Very—well—Madam—very well! a separate + maintenance—as soon as you Please. Yes Madam or a Divorce—I'll + make an example of myself for the Benefit of all old Batchelors—Let + us separate, Madam. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Agreed—agreed—and now—my dear Sir Peter we + are of a mind again, we may be the happiest couple—and never differ + again, you know—ha! ha!—Well you are going to be in a Passion + I see—and I shall only interrupt you—so, bye! bye! hey—young + Jockey try'd and countered. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Plagues and tortures! She pretends to keep her temper, can't I + make her angry neither! O! I am the miserable fellow! But I'll not bear + her presuming to keep her Temper—No she may break my Heart—but + she shan't keep her Temper. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II.—At CHARLES's House + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter TRIP, MOSES, and SIR OLIVER +</pre> + <p> + TRIP. Here Master Moses—if you'll stay a moment—I'll try + whether Mr.——what's the Gentleman's Name? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Mr.——Moses—what IS my name—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Mr. Premium—— + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Premium—very well. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit TRIP—taking snuff.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. To judge by the Servants—one wouldn't believe the master + was ruin'd—but what—sure this was my Brother's House—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes Sir Mr. Charles bought it of Mr. Joseph with the Furniture, + Pictures, &c.—just as the old Gentleman left it—Sir Peter + thought it a great piece of extravagance in him. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. In my mind the other's economy in selling it to him was more + reprehensible by half.—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter TRIP +</pre> + <p> + TRIP. My Master[,] Gentlemen[,] says you must wait, he has company, and + can't speak with you yet. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. If he knew who it was wanted to see him, perhaps he wouldn't + have sent such a Message. + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Yes—yes—Sir—He knows you are here—I didn't + forget little Premium—no—no—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Very well—and pray Sir what may be your Name? + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Trip Sir—my Name is Trip, at your Service. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well then Mr. Trip—I presume your master is seldom + without company—— + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Very seldom Sir—the world says ill-natured things of him but + 'tis all malice—no man was ever better beloved—Sir he seldom + sits down to dinner without a dozen particular Friends—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. He's very happy indeed—you have a pleasant sort of Place + here I guess? + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Why yes—here are three or four of us pass our time agreeably + enough—but then our wages are sometimes a little in arrear—and + not very great either—but fifty Pounds a year and find our own Bags + and Bouquets—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Bags and Bouquets!—Halters and Bastinadoes! [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + TRIP. But a propos Moses—have you been able to get me that little + Bill discounted? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Wants to raise money too!—mercy on me! has his + distresses, I warrant[,] like a Lord—and affects Creditors and Duns! + [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + MOSES. 'Twas not be done, indeed—— + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Good lack—you surprise me—My Friend Brush has indorsed + it and I thought when he put his name at the Back of a Bill 'twas as good + as cash. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. No 'twouldn't do. + </p> + <p> + TRIP. A small sum—but twenty Pound—harkee, Moses do you think + you could get it me by way of annuity? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. An annuity! ha! ha! a Footman raise money by annuity—Well + done Luxury egad! [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Who would you get to join with you? + </p> + <p> + TRIP. You know my Lord Applice—you have seen him however—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes—— + </p> + <p> + TRIP. You must have observed what an appearance he makes—nobody + dresses better, nobody throws off faster—very well this Gentleman + will stand my security. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Well—but you must insure your Place. + </p> + <p> + TRIP. O with all my Heart—I'll insure my Place, and my Life too, if + you please. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. It's more than I would your neck—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. But is there nothing you could deposit? + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Why nothing capital of my master's wardrobe has drop'd lately—but + I could give you a mortgage on some of his winter Cloaths with equity of + redemption before November or—you shall have the reversion—of + the French velvet, or a post obit on the Blue and Silver—these I + should think Moses—with a few Pair of Point Ruffles as a collateral + security—hey, my little Fellow? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Well well—we'll talk presently—we detain the Gentlemen—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. O pray don't let me interrupt Mr. Trip's Negotiation. + </p> + <p> + TRIP. Harkee—I heard the Bell—I believe, Gentlemen I can now + introduce you—don't forget the annuity little Moses. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. If the man be a shadow of his Master this is the Temple of + Dissipation indeed! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III.—CHARLES, CARELESS, etc., etc. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + At Table with Wine +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. 'Fore Heaven, 'tis true!—there is the great Degeneracy of + the age—many of our acquaintance have Taste—Spirit, and + Politeness—but plague on't they won't drink—— + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. It is so indeed—Charles—they give into all the + substantial Luxuries of the Table—and abstain from nothing but wine + and wit—Oh, certainly society suffers by it intolerably—for + now instead of the social spirit of Raillery that used to mantle over a + glass of bright Burgundy their conversation is become just like the Spa + water they drink which has all the Pertness and flatulence of champaine + without its spirit or Flavour. + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. But what are they to do who love Play better than wine—— + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. True—there's Harry diets himself—for gaming and is + now under a hazard Regimen. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Then He'll have the worst of it—what you wouldn't train a + horse for the course by keeping him from corn—For my Part egad I am + never so successful as when I'm a little—merry—let me throw on + a Bottle of Champaine and I never lose—at least I never feel my + losses which is exactly the same thing. + </p> + <p> + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Aye that may be—but it is as impossible to follow + wine and play as to unite Love and Politics. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Pshaw—you may do both—Caesar made Love and Laws in a + Breath—and was liked by the Senate as well as the Ladies—but + no man can pretend to be a Believer in Love, who is an abjurer of wine—'tis + the Test by which a Lover knows his own Heart—fill a dozen Bumpers + to a dozen Beauties, and she that floats atop is the maid that has + bewitched you. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Now then Charles—be honest and give us yours—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why I have withheld her only in compassion to you—if I + toast her you should give a round of her Peers, which is impossible! on + earth! + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. O, then we'll find some canonized Vestals or heathen Goddesses + that will do I warrant—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Here then—Bumpers—you Rogues—Bumpers! Maria—Maria—— + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Maria who? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, damn the Surname 'tis too formal to be register'd in Love's + calendar—but now Careless beware—beware—we must have + Beauty's superlative. + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Nay Never study[,] Careless—we'll stand to the + Toast—tho' your mistress should want an eye—and you know you + have a song will excuse you—— + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Egad so I have—and I'll give him the song instead of the + Lady.—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SONG.—AND CHORUS—<a href="#linknote-4" name="linknoteref-4" + id="linknoteref-4">4</a> + + Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; + Here's to the widow of fifty; + Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, + And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. + Chorus. Let the toast pass,— + Drink to the lass, + I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for a glass. + + Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize; + Now to the maid who has none, sir; + Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, + And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. + Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c. + + Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow: + Now to her that's as brown as a berry: + Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, + And now to the damsel that's merry. + Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c. + + For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim, + Young or ancient, I care not a feather; + So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim, + So fill up your glasses, nay, fill to the brim, + And let us e'en toast them together. + Chorus. Let the toast pass, &c. + + [Enter TRIP whispers CHARLES] +</pre> + <p> + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Bravo Careless—Ther's Toast and Sentiment too. + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. E' faith there's infinite charity in that song.—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Gentlemen, you must excuse me a little.—Careless, take the + Chair, will you? + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Nay prithee, Charles—what now—this is one of your + Peerless Beauties I suppose—has dropped in by chance? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. No—Faith—to tell you the Truth 'tis a Jew and a + Broker who are come by appointment. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. O dam it let's have the Jew in. + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Aye and the Broker too by all means—— + </p> + <p> + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Yes yes the Jew and the Broker. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad with all my Heart—Trip—bid the Gentlemen walk in—tho' + there's one of them a Stranger I can tell you—— + </p> + <p> + TRIP. What Sir—would you chuse Mr. Premium to come up with—— + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes—yes Mr. Premium certainly. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. To be sure—Mr. Premium—by all means Charles, let us + give them some generous Burgundy, and perhaps they'll grow conscientious—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. O, Hang 'em—no—wine does but draw forth a man's + natural qualities; and to make them drink would only be to whet their + Knavery. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter TRIP, SIR OLIVER, and MOSES +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. So—honest Moses—walk in—walk in pray Mr. + Premium—that's the Gentleman's name isn't it Moses. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes Sir. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Set chairs—Trim.—Sit down, Mr Premium.—Glasses + Trim.—sit down Moses.—Come, Mr. Premium I'll give you a + sentiment—Here's Success to Usury—Moses fill the Gentleman a + bumper. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Success to Usury! + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Right Moses—Usury is Prudence and industry and deserves to + succeed—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Then Here is—all the success it deserves! [Drinks.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Mr. Premium you and I are but strangers yet—but I hope we + shall be better acquainted by and bye—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes Sir hope we shall—more intimately perhaps than + you'll wish.<a href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5"><small>5</small></a> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Aside.] +</pre> + <p> + CARELESS. No, no, that won't do! Mr. Premium, you have demurred at the + toast, and must drink it in a pint bumper. + </p> + <p> + FIRST GENTLEMAN. A pint bumper, at least. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Oh, pray, sir, consider—Mr. Premium's a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. And therefore loves good wine. + </p> + <p> + SECOND GENTLEMAN. Give Moses a quart glass—this is mutiny, and a + high contempt for the chair. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Here, now for't! I'll see justice done, to the last drop of my + bottle. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Nay, pray, gentlemen—I did not expect this usage. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. No, hang it, you shan't; Mr. Premium's a stranger. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Odd! I wish I was well out of their company. [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Plague on 'em then! if they won't drink, we'll not sit down with + them. Come, Harry, the dice are in the next room.—Charles, you'll + join us when you have finished your business with the gentlemen? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I will! I will!— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt SIR HARRY BUMPER and GENTLEMEN; CARELESS following.] +Careless. +</pre> + <p> + CARELESS. [Returning.] Well! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Perhaps I may want you. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Oh, you know I am always ready: word, note, or bond, 'tis all + the same to me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + MOSES. Sir, this is Mr. Premium, a gentleman of the strictest honour and + secrecy; and always performs what he undertakes. Mr. Premium, this is—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Psha! have done. Sir, my friend Moses is a very honest fellow, + but a little slow at expression: he'll be an hour giving us our titles. + Mr. Premium, the plain state of the matter is this: I am an extravagant + young fellow who wants to borrow money; you I take to be a prudent old + fellow, who have got money to lend. I am blockhead enough to give fifty + per cent. sooner than not have it! and you, I presume, are rogue enough to + take a hundred if you can get it. Now, sir, you see we are acquainted at + once, and may proceed to business without further ceremony. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Exceeding frank, upon my word. I see, sir, you are not a man + of many compliments. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, no, sir! plain dealing in business I always think best. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Sir, I like you the better for it. However, You are mistaken + in one thing; I have no money to lend, but I believe I could procure some + of a friend; but then he's an unconscionable dog. Isn't he, Moses? And + must sell stock to accommodate you. Mustn't he, Moses! + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes, indeed! You know I always speak the truth, and scorn to tell a + lie! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Right. People that speak truth generally do. But these are + trifles, Mr. Premium. What! I know money isn't to be bought without paying + for't! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well, but what security could you give? You have no land, I + suppose? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Not a mole-hill, nor a twig, but what's in the bough pots out of + the window! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Nor any stock, I presume? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Nothing but live stock—and that's only a few pointers and + ponies. But pray, Mr. Premium, are you acquainted at all with any of my + connections? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Why, to say the truth, I am. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Then you must know that I have a devilish rich uncle in the East + Indies, Sir Oliver Surface, from whom I have the greatest expectations? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. That you have a wealthy uncle, I have heard; but how your + expectations will turn out is more, I believe, than you can tell. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, no!—there can be no doubt. They tell me I'm a + prodigious favourite, and that he talks of leaving me everything. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Indeed! this is the first I've heard of it. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yes, yes, 'tis just so. Moses knows 'tis true; don't you, Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Oh, yes! I'll swear to't. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Egad, they'll persuade me presently I'm at Bengal. [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Now I propose, Mr. Premium, if it's agreeable to you, a post-obit + on Sir Oliver's life: though at the same time the old fellow has been so + liberal to me, that I give you my word, I should be very sorry to hear + that anything had happened to him. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Not more than I should, I assure you. But the bond you mention + happens to be just the worst security you could offer me—for I might + live to a hundred and never see the principal. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, yes, you would! the moment Sir Oliver dies, you know, you + would come on me for the money. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Then I believe I should be the most unwelcome dun you ever had + in your life. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. What! I suppose you're afraid that Sir Oliver is too good a life? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. No, indeed I am not; though I have heard he is as hale and + healthy as any man of his years in Christendom. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. There again, now, you are misinformed. No, no, the climate has + hurt him considerably, poor uncle Oliver. Yes, yes, he breaks apace, I'm + told—and is so much altered lately that his nearest relations would + not know him. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. No! Ha! ha! ha! so much altered lately that his nearest + relations would not know him! Ha! ha! ha! egad—ha! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ha! ha!—you're glad to hear that, little Premium? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. No, no, I'm not. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yes, yes, you are—ha! ha! ha!—you know that mends + your chance. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But I'm told Sir Oliver is coming over; nay, some say he is + actually arrived. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Psha! sure I must know better than you whether he's come or not. + No, no, rely on't he's at this moment at Calcutta. Isn't he, Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Oh, yes, certainly. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Very true, as you say, you must know better than I, though I + have it from pretty good authority. Haven't I, Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Yes, most undoubted! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But, Sir, as I understand you want a few hundreds immediately, + is there nothing you could dispose of? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. How do you mean? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. For instance, now, I have heard that your father left behind + him a great quantity of massy old plate. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. O Lud! that's gone long ago. Moses can tell you how better than I + can. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Good lack! all the family race-cups and + corporation-bowls!—[Aloud.] Then it was also supposed that his + library was one of the most valuable and compact. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yes, yes, so it was—vastly too much so for a private + gentleman. For my part, I was always of a communicative disposition, so I + thought it a shame to keep so much knowledge to myself. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Mercy upon me! learning that had run in the family + like an heir-loom!—[Aloud.] Pray, what has become of the books? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. You must inquire of the auctioneer, Master Premium, for I don't + believe even Moses can direct you. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. I know nothing of books. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. So, so, nothing of the family property left, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Not much, indeed; unless you have a mind to the family pictures. + I have got a room full of ancestors above: and if you have a taste for old + paintings, egad, you shall have 'em a bargain! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Hey! what the devil! sure, you wouldn't sell your forefathers, + would you? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Every man of them, to the best bidder. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What! your great-uncles and aunts? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ay, and my great-grandfathers and grandmothers too. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Now I give him up!—[Aloud.] What the plague, + have you no bowels for your own kindred? Odd's life! do you take me for + Shylock in the play, that you would raise money of me on your own flesh + and blood? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Nay, my little broker, don't be angry: what need you care, if you + have your money's worth? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well, I'll be the purchaser: I think I can dispose of the + family canvas.—[Aside.] Oh, I'll never forgive him this! never! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Re-enter CARELESS +</pre> + <p> + CARELESS. Come, Charles, what keeps you? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I can't come yet. I'faith, we are going to have a sale above + stairs; here's little Premium will buy all my ancestors! + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Oh, burn your ancestors! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. No, he may do that afterwards, if he pleases. Stay, Careless, we + want you: egad, you shall be auctioneer—so come along with us. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Oh, have with you, if that's the case. I can handle a hammer as + well as a dice box! Going! going! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Oh, the profligates! [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Come, Moses, you shall be appraiser, if we want one. Gad's life, + little Premium, you don't seem to like the business? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Oh, yes, I do, vastly! Ha! ha! ha! yes, yes, I think it a rare + joke to sell one's family by auction—ha! ha!—[Aside.] Oh, the + prodigal! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. To be sure! when a man wants money, where the plague should he + get assistance, if he can't make free with his own relations? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I'll never forgive him; never! never! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + END OF THE THIRD ACT +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I.—A Picture Room in CHARLES SURFACE'S House + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter CHARLES, SIR OLIVER, MOSES, and CARELESS +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. Walk in, gentlemen, pray walk in;—here they are, the family + of the Surfaces, up to the Conquest. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. And, in my opinion, a goodly collection. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ay, ay, these are done in the true spirit of portrait-painting; + no volontiere grace or expression. Not like the works of your modern + Raphaels, who give you the strongest resemblance, yet contrive to make + your portrait independent of you; so that you may sink the original and + not hurt the picture. No, no; the merit of these is the inveterate + likeness—all stiff and awkward as the originals, and like nothing in + human nature besides. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ah! we shall never see such figures of men again. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I hope not. Well, you see, Master Premium, what a domestic + character I am; here I sit of an evening surrounded by my family. But + come, get to your pulpit, Mr. Auctioneer; here's an old gouty chair of my + grandfather's will answer the purpose. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Ay, ay, this will do. But, Charles, I haven't a hammer; and + what's an auctioneer without his hammer? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad, that's true. What parchment have we here? Oh, our genealogy + in full. [Taking pedigree down.] Here, Careless, you shall have no common + bit of mahogany, here's the family tree for you, you rogue! This shall be + your hammer, and now you may knock down my ancestors with their own + pedigree. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What an unnatural rogue!—an ex post facto parricide! + [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Yes, yes, here's a list of your generation indeed;—faith, + Charles, this is the most convenient thing you could have found for the + business, for 'twill not only serve as a hammer, but a catalogue into the + bargain. Come, begin—A-going, a-going, a-going! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Bravo, Careless! Well, here's my great uncle, Sir Richard + Ravelin, a marvellous good general in his day, I assure you. He served in + all the Duke of Marlborough's wars, and got that cut over his eye at the + battle of Malplaquet. What say you, Mr. Premium? look at him—there's + a hero! not cut out of his feathers, as your modern clipped captains are, + but enveloped in wig and regimentals, as a general should be. What do you + bid? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside to Moses.] Bid him speak. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Mr. Premium would have you speak. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why, then, he shall have him for ten pounds, and I'm sure that's + not dear for a staff-officer. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Heaven deliver me! his famous uncle Richard for ten + pounds!—[Aloud.] Very well, sir, I take him at that. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Careless, knock down my uncle Richard.—Here, now, is a + maiden sister of his, my great-aunt Deborah, done by Kneller, in his best + manner, and esteemed a very formidable likeness. There she is, you see, a + shepherdess feeding her flock. You shall have her for five pounds ten—the + sheep are worth the money. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] Ah! poor Deborah! a woman who set such a value on + herself!—[Aloud.] Five pounds ten—she's mine. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Knock down my aunt Deborah! Here, now, are two that were a sort + of cousins of theirs.—You see, Moses, these pictures were done some + time ago, when beaux wore wigs, and the ladies their own hair. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes, truly, head-dresses appear to have been a little lower in + those days. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Well, take that couple for the same. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. 'Tis a good bargain. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Careless!—This, now, is a grandfather of my mother's, a + learned judge, well known on the western circuit,—What do you rate + him at, Moses? + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Four guineas. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Four guineas! Gad's life, you don't bid me the price of his wig.—Mr. + Premium, you have more respect for the woolsack; do let us knock his + lordship down at fifteen. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. By all means. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Gone! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. And there are two brothers of his, William and Walter Blunt, + Esquires, both members of Parliament, and noted speakers; and, what's very + extraordinary, I believe, this is the first time they were ever bought or + sold. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. That is very extraordinary, indeed! I'll take them at your own + price, for the honour of Parliament. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Well said, little Premium! I'll knock them down at forty. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Here's a jolly fellow—I don't know what relation, but he + was mayor of Norwich: take him at eight pounds. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. No, no; six will do for the mayor. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Come, make it guineas, and I'll throw you the two aldermen here + into the bargain. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. They're mine. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Careless, knock down the mayor and aldermen. But, plague on't! we + shall be all day retailing in this manner; do let us deal wholesale: what + say you, little Premium? Give me three hundred pounds for the rest of the + family in the lump. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Ay, ay, that will be the best way. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well, well, anything to accommodate you; they are mine. But + there is one portrait which you have always passed over. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. What, that ill-looking little fellow over the settee? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes, sir, I mean that; though I don't think him so ill-looking + a little fellow, by any means. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. What, that? Oh; that's my uncle Oliver! 'Twas done before he went + to India. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Your uncle Oliver! Gad, then you'll never be friends, Charles. + That, now, to me, is as stern a looking rogue as ever I saw; an + unforgiving eye, and a damned disinheriting countenance! an inveterate + knave, depend on't. Don't you think so, little Premium? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Upon my soul, Sir, I do not; I think it is as honest a looking + face as any in the room, dead or alive. But I suppose uncle Oliver goes + with the rest of the lumber? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. No, hang it! I'll not part with poor Noll. The old fellow has + been very good to me, and, egad, I'll keep his picture while I've a room + to put it in. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] The rogue's my nephew after all!—[Aloud.] But, + sir, I have somehow taken a fancy to that picture. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I'm sorry for't, for you certainly will not have it. Oons, + haven't you got enough of them? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] I forgive him everything!—[Aloud.] But, Sir, + when I take a whim in my head, I don't value money. I'll give you as much + for that as for all the rest. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Don't tease me, master broker; I tell you I'll not part with it, + and there's an end of it. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] How like his father the dog is.—[Aloud.] Well, + well, I have done.—[Aside.] I did not perceive it before, but I + think I never saw such a striking resemblance.—[Aloud.] Here is a + draught for your sum. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why, 'tis for eight hundred pounds! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. You will not let Sir Oliver go? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Zounds! no! I tell you, once more. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Then never mind the difference, we'll balance that another + time. But give me your hand on the bargain; you are an honest fellow, + Charles—I beg pardon, sir, for being so free.—Come, Moses. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad, this is a whimsical old fellow!—But hark'ee, Premium, + you'll prepare lodgings for these gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes, yes, I'll send for them in a day or two. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. But, hold; do now send a genteel conveyance for them, for, I + assure you, they were most of them used to ride in their own carriages. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I will, I will—for all but Oliver. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ay, all but the little nabob. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. You're fixed on that? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. [Aside.] A dear extravagant rogue!—[Aloud.] Good day! + Come, Moses.—[Aside.] Let me hear now who dares call him profligate! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit with MOSES.] +</pre> + <p> + CARELESS. Why, this is the oddest genius of the sort I ever met with! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad, he's the prince of brokers, I think. I wonder how the devil + Moses got acquainted with so honest a fellow.—Ha! here's Rowley.—Do, + Careless, say I'll join the company in a few moments. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. I will—but don't let that old blockhead persuade you to + squander any of that money on old musty debts, or any such nonsense; for + tradesmen, Charles, are the most exorbitant fellows. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Very true, and paying them is only encouraging them. + </p> + <p> + CARELESS. Nothing else. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ay, ay, never fear.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit CARELESS.] +So! this was an odd old fellow, indeed. Let me see, two-thirds of these +five hundred and thirty odd pounds are mine by right. Fore Heaven! +I find one's ancestors are more valuable relations than I took them +for!—Ladies and gentlemen, your most obedient and very grateful +servant. [Bows ceremoniously to the pictures.] + + Enter ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + Ha! old Rowley! egad, you are just come in time to take leave of your old + acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Yes, I heard they were a-going. But I wonder you can have such + spirits under so many distresses. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why, there's the point! my distresses are so many, that I can't + affort to part with my spirits; but I shall be rich and splenetic, all in + good time. However, I suppose you are surprised that I am not more + sorrowful at parting with so many near relations; to be sure, 'tis very + affecting; but you see they never move a muscle, so why should I? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. There's no making you serious a moment. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yes, faith, I am so now. Here, my honest Rowley, here, get me + this changed directly, and take a hundred pounds of it immediately to old + Stanley. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. A hundred pounds! Consider only—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Gad's life, don't talk about it! poor Stanley's wants are + pressing, and, if you don't make haste, we shall have some one call that + has a better right to the money. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Ah! there's the point! I never will cease dunning you with the old + proverb—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. BE JUST BEFORE YOU'RE GENEROUS.—Why, so I would if I could; + but Justice is an old hobbling beldame, and I can't get her to keep pace + with Generosity, for the soul of me. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Yet, Charles, believe me, one hour's reflection—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Ay, ay, it's very true; but, hark'ee, Rowley, while I have, by + Heaven I'll give; so, damn your economy! and now for hazard. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II.—The Parlour + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR OLIVER and MOSES +</pre> + <p> + MOSES. Well sir, I think as Sir Peter said you have seen Mr. Charles in + high Glory—'tis great Pity He's so extravagant. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. True—but he would not sell my Picture— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. And loves wine and women so much— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But He wouldn't sell my Picture. + </p> + <p> + MOSES. And game so deep— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But He wouldn't sell my Picture. O—here's Rowley! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + ROWLEY. So—Sir Oliver—I find you have made a Purchase—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes—yes—our young Rake has parted with his + Ancestors like old Tapestry—sold Judges and Generals by the foot—and + maiden Aunts as cheap as broken China.— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. And here has he commissioned me to re-deliver you Part of the + purchase-money—I mean tho' in your necessitous character of old + Stanley—— + </p> + <p> + MOSES. Ah! there is the Pity of all! He is so damned charitable. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. And I left a Hosier and two Tailors in the Hall—who I'm sure + won't be paid, and this hundred would satisfy 'em. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well—well—I'll pay his debts and his Benevolences + too—I'll take care of old Stanley—myself—But now I am no + more a Broker, and you shall introduce me to the elder Brother as Stanley—— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Not yet a while—Sir Peter I know means to call there about + this time. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter TRIP +</pre> + <p> + TRIP. O Gentlemen—I beg Pardon for not showing you out—this + way—Moses, a word. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit TRIP with MOSES.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. There's a Fellow for you—Would you believe it that Puppy + intercepted the Jew, on our coming, and wanted to raise money before he + got to his master! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Indeed! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes—they are now planning an annuity Business—Ah + Master Rowley[,] in my Day Servants were content with the Follies of their + Masters when they were worn a little Thread Bare but now they have their + Vices like their Birth Day cloaths with the gloss on. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III.—A Library + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SURFACE and SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. No letter from Lady Teazle? + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. No Sir— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I am surprised she hasn't sent if she is prevented from coming—! + Sir Peter certainly does not suspect me—yet I wish I may not lose + the Heiress, thro' the scrape I have drawn myself in with the wife—However, + Charles's imprudence and bad character are great Points in my Favour. + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Sir—I believe that must be Lady Teazle— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Hold[!] see—whether it is or not before you go to the Door—I + have a particular Message for you if it should be my Brother. + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. 'Tis her ladyship Sir—She always leaves her Chair at the + milliner's in the next Street. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Stay—stay—draw that Screen before the Window—that + will do—my opposite Neighbour is a maiden Lady of so curious a + temper!— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [SERVANT draws the screen and exit.] +</pre> + <p> + I have a difficult Hand to play in this Affair—Lady Teazle as lately + suspected my Views on Maria—but She must by no means be let into + that secret, at least till I have her more in my Power. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter LADY TEAZLE +</pre> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. What[!] Sentiment in soliloquy—have you been very + impatient now?—O Lud! don't pretend to look grave—I vow I + couldn't come before—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O Madam[,] Punctuality is a species of Constancy, a very + unfashionable quality in a Lady. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Upon my word you ought to pity me, do you now Sir Peter is + grown so ill-tempered to me of Late! and so jealous! of Charles too that's + the best of the story isn't it? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I am glad my scandalous Friends keep that up. [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I am sure I wish He would let Maria marry him—and then + perhaps He would be convinced—don't you—Mr. Surface? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Indeed I do not.—[Aside.] O certainly I do—for then + my dear Lady Teazle would also be convinced how wrong her suspicions were + of my having any design on the silly Girl—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Well—well I'm inclined to believe you—besides I + really never could perceive why she should have so any admirers. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O for her Fortune—nothing else— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I believe so for tho' she is certainly very pretty—yet + she has no conversation in the world—and is so grave and reserved—that + I declare I think she'd have made an excellent wife for Sir Peter.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. So she would. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Then—one never hears her speak ill of anybody—which + you know is mighty dull— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yet she doesn't want understanding— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No more she does—yet one is always disapointed when one + hears [her] speak—For though her Eyes have no kind of meaning in + them—she very seldom talks Nonsense. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Nay—nay surely—she has very fine eyes— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Why so she has—tho' sometimes one fancies there's a + little sort of a squint— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. A squint—O fie—Lady Teazle. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Yes yes—I vow now—come there is a left-handed + Cupid in one eye—that's the Truth on't. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well—his aim is very direct however—but Lady + Sneerwell has quite corrupted you. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No indeed—I have not opinion enough of her to be taught + by her, and I know that she has lately rais'd many scandalous hints of me—which + you know one always hears from one common Friend, or other. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Why to say truth I believe you are not more obliged to her than + others of her acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. But isn't [it] provoking to hear the most ill-natured Things + said to one and there's my friend Lady Sneerwell has circulated I don't + know how many scandalous tales of me, and all without any foundation, too; + that's what vexes me. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Aye Madam to be sure that is the Provoking circumstance—without + Foundation—yes yes—there's the mortification indeed—for + when a slanderous story is believed against one—there certainly is + no comfort like the consciousness of having deserved it—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No to be sure—then I'd forgive their malice—but + to attack me, who am really so innocent—and who never say an + ill-natured thing of anybody—that is, of any Friend—! and then + Sir Peter too—to have him so peevish—and so suspicious—when + I know the integrity of my own Heart—indeed 'tis monstrous. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. But my dear Lady Teazle 'tis your own fault if you suffer it—when + a Husband entertains a groundless suspicion of his Wife and withdraws his + confidence from her—the original compact is broke and she owes it to + the Honour of her sex to endeavour to outwit him— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Indeed—So that if He suspects me without cause it + follows that the best way of curing his jealousy is to give him reason + for't— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Undoubtedly—for your Husband [should] never be deceived in + you—and in that case it becomes you to be frail in compliment to his + discernment— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. To be sure what you say is very reasonable—and when the + consciousness of my own Innocence—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ah: my dear—Madam there is the great mistake—'tis + this very conscious Innocence that is of the greatest Prejudice to you—what + is it makes you negligent of Forms and careless of the world's opinion—why + the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you thoughtless in + your Conduct and apt to run into a thousand little imprudences—why + the consciousness of your Innocence—what makes you impatient of Sir + Peter's temper, and outrageous at his suspicions—why the + consciousness of your own Innocence— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. 'Tis very true. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Now my dear Lady Teazle if you but once make a trifling Faux Pas + you can't conceive how cautious you would grow, and how ready to humour + and agree with your Husband. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Do you think so— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O I'm sure on't; and then you'd find all scandal would cease at + once—for in short your Character at Present is like a Person in a + Plethora, absolutely dying of too much Health— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. So—so—then I perceive your Prescription is that I + must sin in my own Defence—and part with my virtue to preserve my + Reputation.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Exactly so upon my credit Ma'am[.] + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Well certainly this is the oddest Doctrine—and the + newest Receipt for avoiding calumny. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. An infallible one believe me—Prudence like experience must + be paid for— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Why if my understanding were once convinced—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Oh, certainly Madam, your understanding SHOULD be convinced—yes—yes—Heaven + forbid I should persuade you to do anything you THOUGHT wrong—no—no—I + have too much honor to desire it— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Don't—you think we may as well leave Honor out of the + Argument? [Rises.] + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ah—the ill effects of your country education I see still + remain with you. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. I doubt they do indeed—and I will fairly own to you, + that If I could be persuaded to do wrong it would be by Sir Peter's + ill-usage—sooner than your honourable Logic, after all. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Then by this Hand, which He is unworthy of—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + Sdeath, you Blockhead—what do you want? + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. I beg your Pardon Sir, but I thought you wouldn't chuse Sir Peter + to come up without announcing him? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir Peter—Oons—the Devil! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Sir Peter! O Lud! I'm ruined! I'm ruin'd! + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Sir, 'twasn't I let him in. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O I'm undone—what will become of me now Mr. Logick.—Oh! + mercy, He's on the Stairs—I'll get behind here—and if ever I'm + so imprudent again—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Goes behind the screen—] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Give me that—Book!—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Sits down—SERVANT pretends to adjust his Hair—] + + Enter SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye—ever improving himself!—Mr. Surface— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Oh! my dear Sir Peter—I beg your Pardon—[Gaping and + throws away the Book.] I have been dosing [dozing] over a stupid Book! + well—I am much obliged to you for this Call—You haven't been + here I believe since I fitted up this Room—Books you know are the + only Things I am a Coxcomb in— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. 'Tis very neat indeed—well well that's proper—and + you make even your Screen a source of knowledge—hung I perceive with + Maps— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O yes—I find great use in that Screen. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I dare say you must—certainly—when you want to find + out anything in a Hurry. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Aye or to hide anything in a Hurry either— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well I have a little private Business—if we were alone— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. You needn't stay. + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. No—Sir—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SERVANT.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Here's a Chair—Sir Peter—I beg—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—now we are alone—there IS a subject—my + dear Friend—on which I wish to unburthen my Mind to you—a + Point of the greatest moment to my Peace—in short, my good Friend—Lady + Teazle's conduct of late has made me very unhappy. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Indeed I'm very sorry to hear it— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes 'tis but too plain she has not the least regard for me—but + what's worse, I have pretty good Authority to suspect that she must have + formed an attachment to another. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Indeed! you astonish me. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes—and between ourselves—I think I have discover'd + the Person. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. How—you alarm me exceedingly! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah: my dear Friend I knew you would sympathize with me.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yes—believe me Sir Peter—such a discovery would hurt + me just as much as it would you— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I am convinced of it—ah—it is a happiness to have a + Friend whom one can trust even with one's Family secrets—but have + you no guess who I mean? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I haven't the most distant Idea—it can't be Sir Benjamin + Backbite. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. O—No. What say you to Charles? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. My Brother—impossible!—O no Sir Peter you mustn't + credit the scandalous insinuations you hear—no no—Charles to + be sure has been charged with many things but go I can never think He + would meditate so gross an injury— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah! my dear Friend—the goodness of your own Heart + misleads you—you judge of others by yourself. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Certainly Sir Peter—the Heart that is conscious of its own + integrity is ever slowest to credit another's Treachery.— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. True—but your Brother has no sentiment[—]you never + hear him talk so.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well there certainly is no knowing what men are capable of—no—there + is no knowing—yet I can't but think Lady Teazle herself has too much + Principle—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye but what's Principle against the Flattery of a handsome—lively + young Fellow— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. That's very true— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And then you know the difference of our ages makes it very + improbable that she should have any great affection for me—and if + she were to be frail and I were to make it Public—why the Town would + only laugh at the foolish old Batchelor, who had married a girl—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. That's true—to be sure People would laugh. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Laugh—aye and make Ballads—and Paragraphs and the + Devil knows what of me— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. No—you must never make it public— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. But then again that the Nephew of my old Friend, Sir Oliver[,] + should be the Person to attempt such an injury—hurts me more nearly— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Undoubtedly—when Ingratitude barbs the Dart of Injury—the + wound has double danger in it— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye—I that was in a manner left his Guardian—in his + House he had been so often entertain'd—who never in my Life denied + him my advice— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O 'tis not to be credited—There may be a man capable of + such Baseness, to be sure—but for my Part till you can give me + positive Proofs you must excuse me withholding my Belief. However, if this + should be proved on him He is no longer a brother of mine I disclaim + kindred with him—for the man who can break thro' the Laws of + Hospitality—and attempt the wife of his Friend deserves to be + branded as the Pest of Society. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What a difference there is between you—what noble + sentiments!— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. But I cannot suspect Lady Teazle's honor. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I'm sure I wish to think well of her—and to remove all + ground of Quarrel between us—She has lately reproach'd me more than + once with having made no settlement on her—and, in our last Quarrel, + she almost hinted that she should not break her Heart if I was dead.—now + as we seem to differ in our Ideas of Expense I have resolved she shall be + her own Mistress in that Respect for the future—and if I were to die—she + shall find that I have not been inattentive to her Interests while living—Here + my Friend are the Draughts of two Deeds which I wish to have your opinion + on—by one she will enjoy eight hundred a year independent while I + live—and by the other the bulk of my Fortune after my Death. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. This conduct Sir Peter is indeed truly Generous! I wish it may + not corrupt my pupil.—[Aside.] + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes I am determined she shall have no cause to complain—tho' + I would not have her acquainted with the latter instance of my affection + yet awhile. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Nor I—if I could help it. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And now my dear Friend if you please we will talk over the + situation of your Hopes with Maria. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. No—no—Sir Peter—another Time if you Please—[softly]. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I am sensibly chagrined at the little Progress you seem to make + in her affection. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I beg you will not mention it—What are my Disappointments + when your Happiness is in Debate [softly]. 'Sdeath I shall be ruined every + way. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And tho' you are so averse to my acquainting Lady Teazle with + YOUR passion, I am sure she's not your Enemy in the Affair. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Pray Sir Peter, now oblige me.—I am really too much + affected by the subject we have been speaking of to bestow a thought on my + own concerns—The Man who is entrusted with his Friend's Distresses + can never—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + Well, Sir? + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Your Brother Sir, is—speaking to a Gentleman in the Street, + and says He knows you're within. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. 'Sdeath, Blockhead—I'm NOT within—I'm out for the + Day. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Stay—hold—a thought has struck me—you shall + be at home. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well—well—let him up.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SERVANT.] +</pre> + <p> + He'll interrupt Sir Peter, however. [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Now, my good Friend—oblige me I Intreat you—before + Charles comes—let me conceal myself somewhere—Then do you tax + him on the Point we have been talking on—and his answers may satisfy + me at once.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O Fie—Sir Peter—would you have ME join in so mean a + Trick? to trepan my Brother too? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Nay you tell me you are SURE He is innocent—if so you do + him the greatest service in giving him an opportunity to clear himself—and—you + will set my Heart at rest—come you shall not refuse me—here + behind this Screen will be—hey! what the Devil—there seems to + be one listener here already—I'll swear I saw a Petticoat.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Ha! ha! ha! Well this is ridiculous enough—I'll tell you, + Sir Peter—tho' I hold a man of Intrigue to be a most despicable + Character—yet you know it doesn't follow that a man is to be an + absolute Joseph either—hark'ee—'tis a little French Milliner—a + silly Rogue that plagues me—and having some character, on your + coming she ran behind the Screen.— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah a Rogue—but 'egad she has overheard all I have been + saying of my Wife. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O 'twill never go any farther, you may depend on't. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No!—then efaith let her hear it out.—Here's a + Closet will do as well.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well, go in there.— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Sly rogue—sly Rogue.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Gad's my Life what an Escape—! and a curious situation I'm + in!—to part man and wife in this manner.— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. [peeps out.] Couldn't I steal off— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Keep close, my Angel! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. [Peeping out.] Joseph—tax him home. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Back—my dear Friend + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. [Peeping out.] Couldn't you lock Sir Peter in?— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Be still—my Life! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. [Peeping.] You're sure the little Milliner won't blab? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. In! in! my good Sir Peter—'Fore Gad, I wish I had a key to + the Door. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter CHARLES +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. Hollo! Brother—what has been the matter? your Fellow + wouldn't let me up at first—What[?] have you had a Jew or a wench + with you.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Neither Brother I assure you. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. But—what has made Sir Peter steal off—I thought He + had been with you— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. He WAS Brother—but hearing you were coming He didn't chuse + to stay— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. What[!] was the old Gentleman afraid I wanted to borrow money of + him? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. No Sir—but I am sorry to find[,] Charles—you have + lately given that worthy man grounds for great Uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yes they tell me I do that to a great many worthy men—but + how so Pray? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. To be plain with you Brother He thinks you are endeavouring to + gain Lady Teazle's Affections from him. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Who I—O Lud! not I upon my word.—Ha! ha! ha! so the + old Fellow has found out that He has got a young wife has He? or what's + worse she has discover'd that she has an old Husband? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. This is no subject to jest on Brother—He who can laugh—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. True true as you were going to say—then seriously I never + had the least idea of what you charge me with, upon my honour. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well it will give Sir Peter great satisfaction to hear this. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. [Aloud.] To be sure, I once thought the lady seemed to have taken + a fancy—but upon my soul I never gave her the least encouragement.—Beside + you know my Attachment to Maria— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. But sure Brother even if Lady Teazle had betray'd the fondest + Partiality for you—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why—look'ee Joseph—I hope I shall never deliberately + do a dishonourable Action—but if a pretty woman was purposely to + throw herself in my way—and that pretty woman married to a man old + enough to be her Father—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why I believe I should be obliged to borrow a little of your + Morality, that's all.—but, Brother do you know now that you surprize + me exceedingly by naming me with Lady Teazle—for faith I always + understood YOU were her Favourite— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O for shame—Charles—This retort is Foolish. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Nay I swear I have seen you exchange such significant Glances—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Nay—nay—Sir—this is no jest— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad—I'm serious—Don't you remember—one Day, + when I called here—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Nay—prithee—Charles + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. And found you together—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Zounds, Sir—I insist—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. And another time when your Servant—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Brother—brother a word with you—Gad I must stop him—[Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Informed—me that—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Hush!—I beg your Pardon but Sir Peter has overheard all we + have been saying—I knew you would clear yourself, or I shouldn't + have consented— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. How Sir Peter—Where is He— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Softly, there! [Points to the closet.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. [In the Closet!] O 'fore Heaven I'll have him out—Sir Peter + come forth! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. No—no—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I say Sir Peter—come into court.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Pulls in SIR PETER.] +</pre> + <p> + What—my old Guardian—what[!] turn inquisitor and take evidence + incog.— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Give me your hand—Charles—I believe I have + suspected you wrongfully; but you mustn't be angry with Joseph—'twas + my Plan— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Indeed!— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. But I acquit you—I promise you I don't think near so ill + of you as I did—what I have heard has given me great satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Egad then 'twas lucky you didn't hear any more. Wasn't it Joseph? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah! you would have retorted on him. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Aye—aye—that was a Joke. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes, yes, I know his honor too well. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Yet you might as well have suspected him as me in this matter, + for all that—mightn't He, Joseph? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well well I believe you— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Would they were both out of the Room! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SERVANT, whispers SURFACE +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. And in future perhaps we may not be such Strangers. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Gentlemen—I beg Pardon—I must wait on you downstairs—Here + is a Person come on particular Business—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Well you can see him in another Room—Sir Peter and I + haven't met a long time and I have something to say [to] him. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. They must not be left together.—I'll send this man away and + return directly— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [SURFACE goes out.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah—Charles if you associated more with your Brother, one + might indeed hope for your reformation—He is a man of Sentiment—Well! + there is nothing in the world so noble as a man of Sentiment! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Pshaw! He is too moral by half—and so apprehensive of his + good Name, as he calls it, that I suppose He would as soon let a Priest in + his House as a Girl— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No—no—come come,—you wrong him. No, no, + Joseph is no Rake but he is no such Saint in that respect either. I have a + great mind to tell him—we should have such a Laugh! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, hang him? He's a very Anchorite—a young Hermit! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Harkee—you must not abuse him, he may chance to hear of + it again I promise you. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why you won't tell him? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No—but—this way. Egad, I'll tell him—Harkee, + have you a mind to have a good laugh against Joseph? + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I should like it of all things— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Then, E'faith, we will—I'll be quit with him for + discovering me.—He had a girl with him when I called. [Whispers.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. What[!] Joseph[!] you jest— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Hush!—a little French Milliner—and the best of the + jest is—she's in the room now. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. The devil she is— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Hush! I tell you. [Points.] + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Behind the screen! Odds Life, let's unveil her! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. No—no! He's coming—you shan't indeed! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, egad, we'll have a peep at the little milliner! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Not for the world—Joseph will never forgive me. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I'll stand by you—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Odds Life! Here He's coming— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [SURFACE enters just as CHARLES throws down the Screen.] + + Re-enter JOSEPH SURFACE +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. Lady Teazle! by all that's wonderful! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Lady Teazle! by all that's Horrible! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Sir Peter—This is one of the smartest French Milliners I + ever saw!—Egad, you seem all to have been diverting yourselves here + at Hide and Seek—and I don't see who is out of the Secret!—Shall + I beg your Ladyship to inform me!—Not a word!—Brother!—will + you please to explain this matter? What! is Honesty Dumb too?—Sir + Peter, though I found you in the Dark—perhaps you are not so now—all + mute! Well tho' I can make nothing of the Affair, I make no doubt but you + perfectly understand one another—so I'll leave you to yourselves.—[Going.] + Brother I'm sorry to find you have given that worthy man grounds for so + much uneasiness!—Sir Peter—there's nothing in the world so + noble as a man of Sentiment!— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Stand for some time looking at one another. Exit CHARLES.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir Peter—notwithstanding I confess that appearances are + against me. If you will afford me your Patience I make no doubt but I + shall explain everything to your satisfaction.— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. If you please—Sir— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. The Fact is Sir—that Lady Teazle knowing my Pretensions to + your ward Maria—I say Sir Lady Teazle—being apprehensive of + the Jealousy of your Temper—and knowing my Friendship to the Family. + S he Sir—I say call'd here—in order that I might explain those + Pretensions—but on your coming being apprehensive—as I said of + your Jealousy—she withdrew—and this, you may depend on't is + the whole truth of the Matter. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A very clear account upon the [my] word and I dare swear the + Lady will vouch for every article of it. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. For not one word of it Sir Peter— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. How[!] don't you think it worthwhile to agree in the lie. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. There is not one Syllable of Truth in what that Gentleman has + told you. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I believe you upon my soul Ma'am— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. 'Sdeath, madam, will you betray me! [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Good Mr. Hypocrite by your leave I will speak for myself— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye let her alone Sir—you'll find she'll make out a + better story than you without Prompting. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Hear me Sir Peter—I came hither on no matter relating + to your ward and even ignorant of this Gentleman's pretensions to her—but + I came—seduced by his insidious arguments—and pretended + Passion[—]at least to listen to his dishonourable Love if not to + sacrifice your Honour to his Baseness. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Now, I believe, the Truth is coming indeed[.] + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. The Woman's mad— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. No Sir—she has recovered her Senses. Your own Arts have + furnished her with the means. Sir Peter—I do not expect you to + credit me—but the Tenderness you express'd for me, when I am sure + you could not think I was a witness to it, has penetrated so to my Heart + that had I left the Place without the Shame of this discovery—my + future life should have spoken the sincerity of my Gratitude—as for + that smooth-tongued Hypocrite—who would have seduced the wife of his + too credulous Friend while he pretended honourable addresses to his ward—I + behold him now in a light so truly despicable that I shall never again + Respect myself for having Listened to him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Notwithstanding all this Sir Peter—Heaven knows—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. That you are a Villain!—and so I leave you to your + conscience— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. You are too Rash Sir Peter—you SHALL hear me—The man + who shuts out conviction by refusing to—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt, SURFACE following and speaking.] + + END OF THE FOURTH +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT V + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE I.—The Library + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SURFACE and SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Mr. Stanley! and why should you think I would see him?—you + must know he came to ask something! + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Sir—I shouldn't have let him in but that Mr. Rowley came to + the Door with him. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Pshaw!—Blockhead to suppose that I should now be in a + Temper to receive visits from poor Relations!—well why don't you + show the Fellow up? + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. I will—Sir—Why, Sir—it was not my Fault that + Sir Peter discover'd my Lady—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Go, fool!— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SERVANT.] +</pre> + <p> + Sure Fortune never play'd a man of my policy such a Trick before—my + character with Sir Peter!—my Hopes with Maria!—destroy'd in a + moment!—I'm in a rare Humour to listen to other People's Distresses!—I + shan't be able to bestow even a benevolent sentiment on Stanley—So! + here—He comes and Rowley with him—I MUST try to recover + myself, and put a little Charity into my Face however.—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] + + Enter SIR OLIVER and ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What! does He avoid us? that was He—was it not? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. It was Sir—but I doubt you are come a little too abruptly—his + Nerves are so weak that the sight of a poor Relation may be too much for + him—I should have gone first to break you to him. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. A Plague of his Nerves—yet this is He whom Sir Peter + extolls as a Man of the most Benevolent way of thinking!— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. As to his way of thinking—I can't pretend to decide[,] for, + to do him justice He appears to have as much speculative Benevolence as + any private Gentleman in the Kingdom—though he is seldom so sensual + as to indulge himself in the exercise of it—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yet [he] has a string of charitable Sentiments I suppose at + his Fingers' ends!— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Or, rather at his Tongue's end Sir Oliver; for I believe there is + no sentiment he has more faith in than that 'Charity begins at Home.' + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. And his I presume is of that domestic sort which never stirs + abroad at all. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I doubt you'll find it so—but He's coming—I mustn't + seem to interrupt you—and you know immediately—as you leave + him—I come in to announce—your arrival in your real Character. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. True—and afterwards you'll meet me at Sir Peter's—— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Without losing a moment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. So—I see he has premeditated a Denial by the + Complaisance of his Features. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SURFACE +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir—I beg you ten thousand Pardons for keeping—you a + moment waiting—Mr. Stanley—I presume—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. At your Service. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir—I beg you will do me the honour to sit down—I + entreat you Sir. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Dear Sir there's no occasion—too civil by half! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I have not the Pleasure of knowing you, Mr. Stanley—but I + am extremely happy to see you look so well—you were nearly related + to my mother—I think Mr. Stanley—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I was Sir—so nearly that my present Poverty I fear may + do discredit to her Wealthy Children—else I should not have presumed + to trouble you.— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Dear Sir—there needs no apology—He that is in + Distress tho' a stranger has a right to claim kindred with the wealthy—I + am sure I wish I was of that class, and had it in my power to offer you + even a small relief. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. If your Unkle, Sir Oliver were here—I should have a + Friend—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I wish He was Sir, with all my Heart—you should not want an + advocate with him—believe me Sir. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I should not need one—my Distresses would recommend me.—but + I imagined—his Bounty had enabled you to become the agent of his + Charity. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. My dear Sir—you are strangely misinformed—Sir Oliver + is a worthy Man, a worthy man—a very worthy sort of Man—but + avarice Mr. Stanley is the vice of age—I will tell you my good Sir + in confidence:—what he has done for me has been a mere—nothing[;] + tho' People I know have thought otherwise and for my Part I never chose to + contradict the Report. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What!—has he never transmitted—you—Bullion—Rupees—Pagodas! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O Dear Sir—Nothing of the kind—no—no—a + few Presents now and then—china, shawls, congo Tea, Avadavats—and + indian Crackers—little more, believe me. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Here's Gratitude for twelve thousand pounds!—Avadavats + and indian Crackers. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Then my dear—Sir—you have heard, I doubt not, of the + extravagance of my Brother—Sir—there are very few would credit + what I have done for that unfortunate young man. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Not I for one! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. The sums I have lent him! indeed—I have been exceedingly to + blame—it was an amiable weakness! however I don't pretend to defend + it—and now I feel it doubly culpable—since it has deprived me + of the power of serving YOU Mr. Stanley as my Heart directs—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Dissembler! Then Sir—you cannot assist me? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. At Present it grieves me to say I cannot—but whenever I + have the ability, you may depend upon hearing from me. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I am extremely sorry—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Not more than I am believe me—to pity without the Power to + relieve is still more painful than to ask and be denied—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Kind Sir—your most obedient humble servant. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. You leave me deeply affected Mr. Stanley—William—be + ready to open the door—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. O, Dear Sir, no ceremony—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Your very obedient—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Your most obsequious—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. You may depend on hearing from me whenever I can be of service—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Sweet Sir—you are too good—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. In the mean time I wish you Health and Spirits—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Your ever grateful and perpetual humble Servant—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir—yours as sincerely—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Charles!—you are my Heir. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE, solus Soh!—This is one bad effect of a good Character—it + invites applications from the unfortunate and there needs no small degree + of address to gain the reputation of Benevolence without incurring the + expence.—The silver ore of pure Charity is an expensive article in + the catalogue of a man's good Qualities—whereas the sentimental + French Plate I use instead of it makes just as good a shew—and pays + no tax. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + ROWLEY. Mr. Surface—your Servant: I was apprehensive of interrupting + you, tho' my Business demands immediate attention—as this Note will + inform you—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Always Happy to see Mr. Rowley—how—Oliver—Surface!—My + Unkle arrived! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. He is indeed—we have just parted—quite well—after + a speedy voyage—and impatient to embrace his worthy Nephew. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I am astonished!—William[!] stop Mr. Stanley, if He's not + gone—— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. O—He's out of reach—I believe. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Why didn't you let me know this when you came in together.— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I thought you had particular—Business—but must be gone + to inform your Brother, and appoint him here to meet his Uncle. He will be + with you in a quarter of an hour—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. So he says. Well—I am strangely overjoy'd at his coming—never + to be sure was anything so damn'd unlucky! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. You will be delighted to see how well He looks. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O—I'm rejoiced to hear it—just at this time—— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I'll tell him how impatiently you expect him—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Do—do—pray—give my best duty and affection—indeed, + I cannot express the sensations I feel at the thought of seeing him!—certainly + his coming just at this Time is the cruellest piece of ill Fortune—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II.—At SIR PETER'S House + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter MRS. CANDOUR and SERVANT +</pre> + <p> + SERVANT. Indeed Ma'am, my Lady will see nobody at Present. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Did you tell her it was her Friend Mrs. Candour—— + </p> + <p> + SERVANT. Yes Ma'am but she begs you will excuse her—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Do go again—I shall be glad to see her if it be only + for a moment—for I am sure she must be in great Distress + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [exit MAID] +</pre> + <p> + —Dear Heart—how provoking!—I'm not mistress of half the + circumstances!—We shall have the whole affair in the newspapers with + the Names of the Parties at length before I have dropt the story at a + dozen houses. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR BENJAMIN +</pre> + <p> + Sir Benjamin you have heard, I suppose—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Of Lady Teazle and Mr. Surface—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. And Sir Peter's Discovery—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O the strangest Piece of Business to be sure—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Well I never was so surprised in my life!—I am so + sorry for all Parties—indeed, + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Now I don't Pity Sir Peter at all—he was so + extravagant—partial to Mr. Surface—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Mr. Surface!—why 'twas with Charles Lady Teazle was + detected. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. No such thing Mr. Surface is the gallant. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. No—no—Charles is the man—'twas Mr. Surface + brought Sir Peter on purpose to discover them—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. I tell you I have it from one—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. And I have it from one—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Who had it from one who had it—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. From one immediately—but here comes Lady Sneerwell—perhaps + she knows the whole affair. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter LADY SNEERWELL +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. So—my dear Mrs. Candour Here's a sad affair of our + Friend Teazle—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Aye my dear Friend, who could have thought it. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Well there is no trusting to appearances[;] tho'—indeed + she was always too lively for me. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. To be sure, her manners were a little too—free—but + she was very young—— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. And had indeed some good Qualities. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. So she had indeed—but have you heard the Particulars? + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. No—but everybody says that Mr. Surface—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Aye there I told you—Mr. Surface was the Man. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. No—no—indeed the assignation was with Charles—— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. With Charles!—You alarm me Mrs. Candour! + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Yes—yes He was the Lover—Mr. Surface—do + him justice—was only the Informer. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Well I'll not dispute with you Mrs. Candour—but be it + which it may—I hope that Sir Peter's wound will not—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Sir Peter's wound! O mercy! I didn't hear a word of their + Fighting—— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Nor I a syllable! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. No—what no mention of the Duel—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Not a word— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O, Lord—yes—yes—they fought before they + left the Room. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Pray let us hear. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Aye—do oblige—us with the Duel—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. 'Sir'—says Sir Peter—immediately after the + Discovery, 'you are a most ungrateful Fellow.' + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Aye to Charles—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. No, no—to Mr. Surface—'a most ungrateful Fellow; + and old as I am, Sir,' says He, 'I insist on immediate satisfaction.' + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Aye that must have been to Charles for 'tis very unlikely + Mr. Surface should go to fight in his own House. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Gad's Life, Ma'am, not at all—giving me immediate + satisfaction—on this, Madam—Lady Teazle seeing Sir Peter in + such Danger—ran out of the Room in strong Hysterics—and + Charles after her calling out for Hartshorn and Water! Then Madam—they + began to fight with Swords—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter CRABTREE +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. With Pistols—Nephew—I have it from undoubted + authority. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Oh, Mr. Crabtree then it is all true—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Too true indeed Ma'am, and Sir Peter Dangerously wounded—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. By a thrust in second—quite thro' his left side + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. By a Bullet lodged in the Thorax—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Mercy—on me[!] Poor Sir Peter—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes, ma'am tho' Charles would have avoided the matter if he + could—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I knew Charles was the Person—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. O my Unkle I see knows nothing of the matter—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. But Sir Peter tax'd him with the basest ingratitude—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. That I told you, you know—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Do Nephew let me speak—and insisted on immediate—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Just as I said—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Odds life! Nephew allow others to know something too—A + Pair of Pistols lay on the Bureau—for Mr. Surface—it seems, + had come home the Night before late from Salt-Hill where He had been to + see the Montem with a Friend, who has a Son at Eton—so unluckily the + Pistols were left Charged—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. I heard nothing of this—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Sir Peter forced Charles to take one and they fired—it + seems pretty nearly together—Charles's shot took Place as I tell you—and + Sir Peter's miss'd—but what is very extraordinary the Ball struck + against a little Bronze Pliny that stood over the Fire Place—grazed + out of the window at a right angle—and wounded the Postman, who was + just coming to the Door with a double letter from Northamptonshire. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. My Unkle's account is more circumstantial I must confess—but + I believe mine is the true one for all that. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I am more interested in this Affair than they imagine—and + must have better information.— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Ah! Lady Sneerwell's alarm is very easily accounted for.— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes yes, they certainly DO say—but that's neither here nor + there. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. But pray where is Sir Peter at present—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Oh! they—brought him home and He is now in the House, tho' + the Servants are order'd to deny it—— + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. I believe so—and Lady Teazle—I suppose attending + him—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes yes—and I saw one of the Faculty enter just before me—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Hey—who comes here—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Oh, this is He—the Physician depend on't. + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. O certainly it must be the Physician and now we shall know—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR OLIVER +</pre> + <p> + CRABTREE. Well, Doctor—what Hopes? + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Aye Doctor how's your Patient? + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Now Doctor isn't it a wound with a small sword—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. A bullet lodged in the Thorax—for a hundred! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Doctor!—a wound with a small sword! and a Bullet in the + Thorax!—oon's are you mad, good People? + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Perhaps, Sir, you are not a Doctor. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Truly Sir I am to thank you for my degree If I am. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Only a Friend of Sir Peter's then I presume—but, sir, you + must have heard of this accident— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Not a word! + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Not of his being dangerously wounded? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. The Devil he is! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Run thro' the Body—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Shot in the breast—— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. By one Mr. Surface—— + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Aye the younger. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Hey! what the plague! you seem to differ strangely in your + accounts—however you agree that Sir Peter is dangerously wounded. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. Oh yes, we agree in that. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Yes, yes, I believe there can be no doubt in that. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Then, upon my word, for a person in that Situation, he is the + most imprudent man alive—For here he comes walking as if nothing at + all was the matter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR PETER +</pre> + <p> + Odd's heart, sir Peter! you are come in good time I promise you, for we + had just given you over! + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. 'Egad, Uncle this is the most sudden Recovery! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Why, man, what do you do out of Bed with a Small Sword through + your Body, and a Bullet lodg'd in your Thorax? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A Small Sword and a Bullet— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye these Gentlemen would have kill'd you without Law or + Physic, and wanted to dub me a Doctor to make me an accomplice. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Why! what is all this? + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. We rejoice, Sir Peter, that the Story of the Duel is not + true—and are sincerely sorry for your other Misfortune. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. So—so—all over the Town already! [Aside.] + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. Tho', Sir Peter, you were certainly vastly to blame to marry at + all at your years. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Sir, what Business is that of yours? + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Tho' Indeed, as Sir Peter made so good a Husband, he's very + much to be pitied. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Plague on your pity, Ma'am, I desire none of it. + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. However Sir Peter, you must not mind the Laughing and jests + you will meet with on the occasion. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Sir, I desire to be master in my own house. + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. 'Tis no Uncommon Case, that's one comfort. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I insist on being left to myself, without ceremony,—I + insist on your leaving my house directly! + </p> + <p> + MRS. CANDOUR. Well, well, we are going and depend on't, we'll make the + best report of you we can. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Leave my house! + </p> + <p> + CRABTREE. And tell how hardly you have been treated. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Leave my House— + </p> + <p> + SIR BENJAMIN. And how patiently you bear it. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Friends! Vipers! Furies! Oh that their own Venom would choke + them! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. They are very provoking indeed, Sir Peter. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + ROWLEY. I heard high words: what has ruffled you Sir Peter— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Pshaw what signifies asking—do I ever pass a Day without + my Vexations? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well I'm not Inquisitive—I come only to tell you, that I + have seen both my Nephews in the manner we proposed. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. A Precious Couple they are! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Yes and Sir Oliver—is convinced that your judgment was right + Sir Peter. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes I find Joseph is Indeed the Man after all. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Aye as Sir Peter says, He's a man of Sentiment. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. And acts up to the Sentiments he professes. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. It certainly is Edification to hear him talk. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Oh, He's a model for the young men of the age! But how's this, + Sir Peter? you don't Join us in your Friend Joseph's Praise as I expected. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Sir Oliver, we live in a damned wicked world, and the fewer we + praise the better. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. What do YOU say so, Sir Peter—who were never mistaken in + your Life? + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Pshaw—Plague on you both—I see by your sneering you + have heard—the whole affair—I shall go mad among you! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Then to fret you no longer Sir Peter—we are indeed + acquainted with it all—I met Lady Teazle coming from Mr. Surface's + so humbled, that she deigned to request ME to be her advocate with you— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And does Sir Oliver know all too? + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Every circumstance! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What of the closet and the screen—hey[?] + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Yes yes—and the little French Milliner. Oh, I have been + vastly diverted with the story! ha! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. 'Twas very pleasant! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. I never laugh'd more in my life, I assure you: ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. O vastly diverting! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. To be sure Joseph with his Sentiments! ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes his sentiments! ha! ha! a hypocritical Villain! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye and that Rogue Charles—to pull Sir Peter out of the + closet: ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ha! ha! 'twas devilish entertaining to be sure— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Ha! ha! Egad, Sir Peter I should like to have seen your Face + when the screen was thrown down—ha! ha! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Yes, my face when the Screen was thrown down: ha! ha! ha! O I + must never show my head again! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. But come—come it isn't fair to laugh at you neither my + old Friend—tho' upon my soul I can't help it— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. O pray don't restrain your mirth on my account: it does not + hurt me at all—I laugh at the whole affair myself—Yes—yes—I + think being a standing Jest for all one's acquaintance a very happy + situation—O yes—and then of a morning to read the Paragraphs + about Mr. S——, Lady T——, and Sir P——, + will be so entertaining!—I shall certainly leave town tomorrow and + never look mankind in the Face again! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Without affectation Sir Peter, you may despise the ridicule of + Fools—but I see Lady Teazle going towards the next Room—I am + sure you must desire a Reconciliation as earnestly as she does. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Perhaps MY being here prevents her coming to you—well + I'll leave honest Rowley to mediate between you; but he must bring you all + presently to Mr. Surface's—where I am now returning—if not to + reclaim a Libertine, at least to expose Hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Ah! I'll be present at your discovering yourself there with all + my heart; though 'tis a vile unlucky Place for discoveries. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. However it is very convenient to the carrying on of my Plot + that you all live so near one another! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SIR OLIVER.] +</pre> + <p> + ROWLEY. We'll follow— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. She is not coming here you see, Rowley— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. No but she has left the Door of that Room open you perceive.—see + she is in Tears—! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. She seems indeed to wish I should go to her.—how dejected + she appears— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. And will you refrain from comforting her— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Certainly a little mortification appears very becoming in a + wife—don't you think it will do her good to let her Pine a little. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. O this is ungenerous in you— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well I know not what to think—you remember Rowley the + Letter I found of her's—evidently intended for Charles? + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. A mere forgery, Sir Peter—laid in your way on Purpose—this + is one of the Points which I intend Snake shall give you conviction on— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. I wish I were once satisfied of that—She looks this way——what + a remarkably elegant Turn of the Head she has! Rowley I'll go to her— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Certainly— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Tho' when it is known that we are reconciled, People will laugh + at me ten times more! + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Let—them laugh—and retort their malice only by showing + them you are happy in spite of it. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Efaith so I will—and, if I'm not mistaken we may yet be + the happiest couple in the country— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Nay Sir Peter—He who once lays aside suspicion—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Hold Master Rowley—if you have any Regard for me—never + let me hear you utter anything like a Sentiment. I have had enough of THEM + to serve me the rest of my Life. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exeunt.] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE THE LAST.—The Library + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SURFACE and LADY SNEERWELL +</pre> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Impossible! will not Sir Peter immediately be reconciled + to CHARLES? and of consequence no longer oppose his union with MARIA? the + thought is Distraction to me! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Can Passion—furnish a Remedy? + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. No—nor cunning either. O I was a Fool, an Ideot—to + league with such a Blunderer! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Surely Lady Sneerwell I am the greatest Sufferer—yet you + see I bear the accident with Calmness. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Because the Disappointment hasn't reached your HEART—your + interest only attached you to Maria—had you felt for her—what + I have for that ungrateful Libertine—neither your Temper nor + Hypocrisy could prevent your showing the sharpness of your Vexation. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. But why should your Reproaches fall on me for this + Disappointment? + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Are not you the cause of it? what had you to bate in your + Pursuit of Maria to pervert Lady Teazle by the way.—had you not a + sufficient field for your Roguery in blinding Sir Peter and supplanting + your Brother—I hate such an avarice of crimes—'tis an unfair + monopoly and never prospers. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well I admit I have been to blame—I confess I deviated from + the direct Road of wrong but I don't think we're so totally defeated + neither. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. No! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. You tell me you have made a trial of Snake since we met—and + that you still believe him faithful to us— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I do believe so. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. And that he has undertaken should it be necessary—to swear + and prove that Charles is at this Time contracted by vows and Honour to + your Ladyship—which some of his former letters to you will serve to + support— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. This, indeed, might have assisted— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Come—come it is not too late yet—but hark! this is + probably my Unkle Sir Oliver—retire to that Room—we'll consult + further when He's gone.— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Well but if HE should find you out to— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. O I have no fear of that—Sir Peter will hold his tongue for + his own credit sake—and you may depend on't I shall soon Discover + Sir Oliver's weak side!— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. I have no diffidence of your abilities—only be + constant to one roguery at a time— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SURFACE. I will—I will—So 'tis confounded hard after such bad + Fortune, to be baited by one's confederate in evil—well at all + events my character is so much better than Charles's, that I certainly—hey—what!—this + is not Sir Oliver—but old Stanley again!—Plague on't that He + should return to teaze me just now—I shall have Sir Oliver come and + find him here—and—— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR OLIVER +</pre> + <p> + Gad's life, Mr. Stanley—why have you come back to plague me at this + time? you must not stay now upon my word! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Sir—I hear your Unkle Oliver is expected here—and + tho' He has been so penurious to you, I'll try what He'll do for me— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir! 'tis impossible for you to stay now—so I must beg——come + any other time and I promise you you shall be assisted. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. No—Sir Oliver and I must be acquainted— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Zounds Sir then [I] insist on your quitting the—Room + directly— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Nay Sir—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir—I insist on't—here William show this Gentleman + out. Since you compel me Sir—not one moment—this is such + insolence. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Going to push him out.] + + Enter CHARLES +</pre> + <p> + CHARLES. Heyday! what's the matter now?—what the Devil have you got + hold of my little Broker here! Zounds—Brother, don't hurt little + Premium. What's the matter—my little Fellow? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. So! He has been with you, too, has He— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. To be sure He has! Why, 'tis as honest a little——But + sure Joseph you have not been borrowing money too have you? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Borrowing—no!—But, Brother—you know sure we + expect Sir Oliver every—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. O Gad, that's true—Noll mustn't find the little Broker here + to be sure— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Yet Mr. Stanley insists—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Stanley—why his name's Premium— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. No no Stanley. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. No, no—Premium. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Well no matter which—but—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Aye aye Stanley or Premium, 'tis the same thing as you say—for + I suppose He goes by half a hundred Names, besides A. B's at the + Coffee-House. [Knock.] + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. 'Sdeath—here's Sir Oliver at the Door——Now I + beg—Mr. Stanley—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Aye aye and I beg Mr. Premium—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Gentlemen—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir, by Heaven you shall go— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Aye out with him certainly—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. This violence—— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. 'Tis your own Fault. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Out with him to be sure. [Both forcing SIR OLIVER out.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SIR PETER TEAZLE, LADY TEAZLE, MARIA, and ROWLEY +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. My old Friend, Sir Oliver!—hey! what in the name of + wonder!—Here are dutiful Nephews!—assault their Unkle at his + first Visit! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Indeed Sir Oliver 'twas well we came in to rescue you. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Truly it was—for I perceive Sir Oliver the character of old + Stanley was no Protection to you. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Nor of Premium either—the necessities of the former + could not extort a shilling from that benevolent Gentleman; and with the + other I stood a chance of faring worse than my Ancestors, and being + knocked down without being bid for. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Charles! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Joseph! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. 'Tis compleat! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Very! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Sir Peter—my Friend and Rowley too—look on that + elder Nephew of mine—You know what He has already received from my + Bounty and you know also how gladly I would have look'd on half my Fortune + as held in trust for him—judge then my Disappointment in discovering + him to be destitute of Truth—Charity—and Gratitude— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Sir Oliver—I should be more surprized at this + Declaration, if I had not myself found him to be selfish—treacherous + and Hypocritical. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. And if the Gentleman pleads not guilty to these pray let him + call ME to his Character. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Then I believe we need add no more—if He knows himself He + will consider it as the most perfect Punishment that He is known to the + world— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. If they talk this way to Honesty—what will they say to ME + by and bye! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. As for that Prodigal—his Brother there—— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Aye now comes my Turn—the damn'd Family Pictures will ruin + me— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir Oliver—Unkle—will you honour me with a hearing— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. I wish Joseph now would make one of his long speeches and I might + recollect myself a little— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. And I suppose you would undertake to vindicate yourself + entirely— + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I trust I could— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Nay—if you desert your Roguery in its Distress and try + to be justified—you have even less principle than I thought you had.—[To + CHARLES SURFACE] Well, Sir—and YOU could JUSTIFY yourself too I + suppose— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Not that I know of, Sir Oliver. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. What[!] little Premium has been let too much into the secret I + presume. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. True—Sir—but they were Family Secrets, and should not + be mentioned again you know. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Come Sir Oliver I know you cannot speak of Charles's Follies with + anger. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Odd's heart no more I can—nor with gravity either—Sir + Peter do you know the Rogue bargain'd with me for all his Ancestors—sold + me judges and Generals by the Foot, and Maiden Aunts as cheap as broken + China! + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. To be sure, Sir Oliver, I did make a little free with the Family + Canvas that's the truth on't:—my Ancestors may certainly rise in + judgment against me there's no denying it—but believe me sincere + when I tell you, and upon my soul I would not say so if I was not—that + if I do not appear mortified at the exposure of my Follies, it is because + I feel at this moment the warmest satisfaction in seeing you, my liberal + benefactor. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Charles—I believe you—give me your hand again: the + ill-looking little fellow over the Couch has made your Peace. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Then Sir—my Gratitude to the original is still encreased. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. [Advancing.] Yet I believe, Sir Oliver, here is one whom + Charles is still more anxious to be reconciled to. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. O I have heard of his Attachment there—and, with the + young Lady's Pardon if I construe right that Blush—— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—Child—speak your sentiments—you know—we + are going to be reconciled to Charles— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. Sir—I have little to say—but that I shall rejoice to + hear that He is happy—For me—whatever claim I had to his + Affection—I willing resign to one who has a better title. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. How Maria! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Heyday—what's the mystery now? while he appeared an + incorrigible Rake, you would give your hand to no one else and now that + He's likely to reform I'll warrant You won't have him! + </p> + <p> + MARIA. His own Heart—and Lady Sneerwell know the cause. + </p> + <p> + [CHARLES.] Lady Sneerwell! + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Brother it is with great concern—I am obliged to speak on + this Point, but my Regard to justice obliges me—and Lady Sneerwell's + injuries can no longer—be concealed—[Goes to the Door.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter LADY SNEERWELL +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Soh! another French milliner egad! He has one in every Room in + the House I suppose— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Ungrateful Charles! Well may you be surprised and feel for + the indelicate situation which your Perfidy has forced me into. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Pray Unkle, is this another Plot of yours? for as I have Life I + don't understand it. + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. I believe Sir there is but the evidence of one Person more + necessary to make it extremely clear. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And that Person—I imagine, is Mr. Snake—Rowley—you + were perfectly right to bring him with us—and pray let him appear. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. Walk in, Mr. Snake— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter SNAKE +</pre> + <p> + I thought his Testimony might be wanted—however it happens unluckily + that He comes to confront Lady Sneerwell and not to support her— + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. A Villain!—Treacherous to me at last! Speak, Fellow, + have you too conspired against me? + </p> + <p> + SNAKE. I beg your Ladyship—ten thousand Pardons—you paid me + extremely Liberally for the Lie in question—but I unfortunately have + been offer'd double to speak the Truth. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. The Torments of Shame and Disappointment on you all! + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. Hold—Lady Sneerwell—before you go let me thank + you for the trouble you and that Gentleman have taken in writing Letters + from me to Charles and answering them yourself—and let me also + request you to make my Respects to the Scandalous College—of which + you are President—and inform them that Lady Teazle, Licentiate, begs + leave to return the diploma they granted her—as she leaves of[f] + Practice and kills Characters no longer. + </p> + <p> + LADY SNEERWELL. Provoking—insolent!—may your Husband live + these fifty years! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Oons what a Fury—— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. A malicious Creature indeed! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Hey—not for her last wish?— + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. O No— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well Sir, and what have you to say now? + </p> + <p> + SURFACE. Sir, I am so confounded, to find that Lady Sneerwell could be + guilty of suborning Mr. Snake in this manner to impose on us all that I + know not what to say——however, lest her Revengeful Spirit + should prompt her to injure my Brother I had certainly better follow her + directly. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. Moral to the last drop! + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye and marry her Joseph if you can.—Oil and Vinegar + egad:—you'll do very well together. + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. I believe we have no more occasion for Mr. Snake at Present— + </p> + <p> + SNAKE. Before I go—I beg Pardon once for all for whatever uneasiness + I have been the humble instrument of causing to the Parties present. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Well—well you have made atonement by a good Deed at last— + </p> + <p> + SNAKE. But I must Request of the Company that it shall never be known— + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Hey!—what the Plague—are you ashamed of having done + a right thing once in your life? + </p> + <p> + SNAKE. Ah: Sir—consider I live by the Badness of my Character!—I + have nothing but my Infamy to depend on!—and, if it were once known + that I had been betray'd into an honest Action, I should lose every Friend + I have in the world. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well—well we'll not traduce you by saying anything to + your Praise never fear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [Exit SNAKE.] +</pre> + <p> + SIR PETER. There's a precious Rogue—Yet that fellow is a Writer and + a Critic. + </p> + <p> + LADY TEAZLE. See[,] Sir Oliver[,] there needs no persuasion now to + reconcile your Nephew and Maria— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Aye—aye—that's as it should be and egad we'll have + the wedding to-morrow morning— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Thank you, dear Unkle! + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. What! you rogue don't you ask the Girl's consent first— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Oh, I have done that a long time—above a minute ago—and + She has look'd yes— + </p> + <p> + MARIA. For Shame—Charles—I protest Sir Peter, there has not + been a word—— + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. Well then the fewer the Better—may your love for each + other never know—abatement. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. And may you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and I—intend + to do— + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Rowley my old Friend—I am sure you congratulate me and I + suspect too that I owe you much. + </p> + <p> + SIR OLIVER. You do, indeed, Charles— + </p> + <p> + ROWLEY. If my Efforts to serve you had not succeeded you would have been + in my debt for the attempt—but deserve to be happy—and you + over-repay me. + </p> + <p> + SIR PETER. Aye honest Rowley always said you would reform. + </p> + <p> + CHARLES. Why as to reforming Sir Peter I'll make no promises—and + that I take to be a proof that I intend to set about it—But here + shall be my Monitor—my gentle Guide.—ah! can I leave the + Virtuous path those Eyes illumine? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tho' thou, dear Maid, should'st wave [waive] thy Beauty's Sway, + —Thou still must Rule—because I will obey: + An humbled fugitive from Folly View, + No sanctuary near but Love and YOU: + You can indeed each anxious Fear remove, + For even Scandal dies if you approve. [To the audience.] + + EPILOGUE + + BY MR. COLMAN + + SPOKEN BY LADY TEAZLE + + I, who was late so volatile and gay, + Like a trade-wind must now blow all one way, + Bend all my cares, my studies, and my vows, + To one dull rusty weathercock—my spouse! + So wills our virtuous bard—the motley Bayes + Of crying epilogues and laughing plays! + Old bachelors, who marry smart young wives, + Learn from our play to regulate your lives: + Each bring his dear to town, all faults upon her— + London will prove the very source of honour. + Plunged fairly in, like a cold bath it serves, + When principles relax, to brace the nerves: + Such is my case; and yet I must deplore + That the gay dream of dissipation's o'er. + And say, ye fair! was ever lively wife, + Born with a genius for the highest life, + Like me untimely blasted in her bloom, + Like me condemn'd to such a dismal doom? + Save money—when I just knew how to waste it! + Leave London—just as I began to taste it! + Must I then watch the early crowing cock, + The melancholy ticking of a clock; + In a lone rustic hall for ever pounded, + With dogs, cats, rats, and squalling brats surrounded? + With humble curate can I now retire, + (While good Sir Peter boozes with the squire,) + And at backgammon mortify my soul, + That pants for loo, or flutters at a vole? + Seven's the main! Dear sound that must expire, + Lost at hot cockles round a Christmas fire; + The transient hour of fashion too soon spent, + Farewell the tranquil mind, farewell content! + Farewell the plumed head, the cushion'd tete, + That takes the cushion from its proper seat! + That spirit-stirring drum!—card drums I mean, + Spadille—odd trick—pam—basto—king and queen! + And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen throat, + The welcome visitors' approach denote; + Farewell all quality of high renown, + Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious town! + Farewell! your revels I partake no more, + And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er! + All this I told our bard; he smiled, and said 'twas clear, + I ought to play deep tragedy next year. + Meanwhile he drew wise morals from his play, + And in these solemn periods stalk'd away:— + "Bless'd were the fair like you; her faults who stopp'd, + And closed her follies when the curtain dropp'd! + No more in vice or error to engage, + Or play the fool at large on life's great stage." +</pre> + <h3> + END OF PLAY + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOOTNOTES: + </h2> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ This PORTRAIT and Garrick's + PROLOGUE are not included in Fraser Rae's text.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ From Sheridan's + manuscript.] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ The story in Act I. Scene + I., told by Crabtree about Miss Letitia Piper, is repeated here, the + speaker being Sir Peter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SIR PETER. O nine out of ten malicious inventions are founded + on some ridiculous misrepresentation—Mrs. Candour you remember + how poor Miss Shepherd lost her Lover and her Character one + Summer at Tunbridge. + + MRS. C. To be sure that was a very ridiculous affair. + + CRABTREE. Pray tell us Sir Peter how it was. + + SIR P. Why madam—[The story follows.] + + MRS. C. Ha ha strange indeed— + + SIR P. Matter of Fact I assure you.... + + LADY T. As sure as can be—Sir Peter will grow scandalous + himself—if you encourage him to tell stories. + (Fraser Rae's footnote—Ed.)] +</pre> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ The words which follow this + title are not inserted in the manuscript of the play. (Fraser Rae's + footnote.—Ed.)] + </p> + <p> + <br /><a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> </a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ From this place to Scene + ii. Act IV. several sheets are missing. (Fraser Rae's footnote.—Ed.)] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The School For Scandal, by +Richard Brinsley Sheridan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL *** + +***** This file should be named 1929-h.htm or 1929-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/1929/ + + +Text file produced by Gary R. 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