Lord A. What, on the wing so soon! With teeth, Mr. Mortimer. What is the surlypoots so much company, can my philosopher want prabbling about? Cot give her!) coot luck ; food to feast his spleen upon? will the man never leave off his flings, and Mort. Food! I revolt against the name; no his fleers, and his fegaries; packpiting his petBramin could abominate your fleshly meal ters?-Coot, my lord, let me call him back, more than I do; why, Hirtius and Apicius and have a little tisputes and tisputations with would have blush'd for it: Mark Antony, who him, dy'e see. roasted eight whole boars for supper, never Lord A. Hang him, tedious rogue, let him go. massacred more at a meal than you have done. Lord A. A truce, good cynic: pr'ythee now get thee up stairs, and take my place; the ladies will be glad of you at cards. Mort. Me at cards! Me at a quadrille-table! Pent in with fuzzing dowagers, gossiping old maids, and yellow admirals; 'sdeath, my lord Abberville, you must excuse me, Lord A. Out on thee, unconformable being; thou art a traitor to society. Mort. Do you call that society? Lord A. Yes; but not my society; none such as you describe will be found here; my circle, Mr. Mortimer, is form'd by people of the first fashion and spirit in this country. Mort. Fashion and spirit! Yes, their country's like to suffer by their fashion more than 'twill ever profit by their spirit. Lord A. Come, come, your temper is too sour. Mort. And your's too sweet: a mawkish| lump of manna; sugar in the mouth, but physic to the bowels. Lord A. Mr. Mortimer, you was my father's executor; I did not know your office extended any further. Dr. D. Tedious! ay, in coot truth is he, as tedious as a Lapland winter, and as melancholy too; his crotchets and his humours damp all mirth and merriment, as a wet blanket does a fire: he is the very night-mare of society. Lord A. Nay, he talks well sometimes. Dr. D. Ay, 'tis pig sound and little wit; like a loud to a pad dinner. Bell Lord A. Patience, good doctor, patience! Another time you shall have your revenge; at present you must lay down your wrath, and take up your attention. Dr. D. I've done, my lord, I've done: laugh at my putterflies indeed! If he was a pig and as pold as king Gryffyn, doctor Druid would make free to whisper an oord 2) or two in his_ear. Lord A. Peace, choleric king of the mountains, peace. Dr. D. I've done, my lord; I say, I've done. Lord A. If you have done, let me begin. You must know then, I expect my city madam from Fishstreet-hill. Dr. D. Ay, ay, the rich pig-pellied fellow's daughter, young madam Pridgemore, my lady Apperville, that is to be, pless her, and save her, and make her a coot wife, say I. Mort. No; when I gave a clear estate into your hands, I clear'd myself of an unwelcome office: I was, indeed, your father's executor; Lord A. Pr'ythee, good doctor, don't put a the gentlemen of fashion and spirit will be man in mind of his misfortunes: I tell you, your lordship's. she is coming here by appointment, with old Lord A. Pooh! You've been black-ball'd 1) | Bridgemore and her mother; 'tis an execrable at some paltry port-drinking club; and set up for a man of wit and ridicule. harm in him? group; and, as I mean to make all things as easy to me as I can, I'm going out to avoid being troubled with their impertinence. Dr. D. Going out, my lord, with your house full of company ? Mort. Not I, believe me : your companions are too dull to laugh at, and too vicious to expose.There stands a sample of your choice. Lord A. Who, doctor Druid? Where's the Lord A. Oh, that's no objection; none in the least; fashion reconciles all those scruples: Mort. Where is the merit? What one to consult your own ease in all things is the quality does that old piece of pedantry pos- very first article in the recipe for good breedsess to fit him for the liberal office of travel-ing: when every man looks after himself, no ling-preceptor to a man of rank? You know, one can complain of neglect; but, as these my lord, I recommended you a friend as fit maxims may not be orthodox on the eastern to form your manners as your morals; but he side of Temple-bar, you must stand gentlewas a restraint; and, in his stead, you took man-usher in this spot; put your best face that Welshman, that buffoon, that antiquarian, upon the matter, and marshal my citizens into forsooth, who looks as if you had rak'd him the assembly-room, with as much ceremony out of the cinders of Mount Vesuvius. as if they came up with an addresss from the Lord A. And so I did: but pr'ythee, Mor-whole company of cordwainers. 3) timer, don't run away; I long to have meet. Mort. You must excuse me. you Lord A. Nay, I must have you better friends. -Come hither, doctor; hark'e Dr. D. Out on it, you've some tevilish oomans in the wind; for when the tice are | rattling above, there's nothing but teath, or the tevil, could keep you below. Lord A. You've guest it; such a divine, deMort. Another time: at present, I am in no licious, little devil, Turks in my heart; Glenhumour to stay the discussion of a cockle-dower himself could not exorcise her: I am shell, or the dissection of a butterfly's wing. possess'd; and from the hour I saw her by [Exit. surprise, I have been plotting methods how to meet her; a lucky opening offers; the mine Enter DOCTOR DRUID. Dr. D. Putterflies! 2) Putterflies in your 1) Alluding to the electing or refusing a member in any society by means of white and black balls. 2) The welsh manner of speaking English will be easily understood, if we bear in mind that they always change the hard and soft letters in their pronunciation of words: thus they say Putterflies, for Butterflies, etc. 1) The word her is used by the Welsh for all the prenouns, in all the persons, and all the cases. a) Word 3) The company of Shoemakers (Cordubanarius), one of the most important in the city. is laid, and Bridgemore's visit is the signal above stairs-Our card was from lady Carofor springing it. line; I suppose she is not from home, as well as her brother. Dr. D. Pridgemore's! How so? Lord A. Why, 'tis with him she lives; what. Dr. D. Who waits there? show the ladies up. else could make it difficult, and what but dif- Bridge. Ay, ay, go up, and show your ficulty could make me pursue it? They pru-cloaths, I'll chat with doctor Druid here below. dently enough would have concealed her from [Exeunt Ladies.] I love to talk with men me; for who can think of any other, when that know the world: they tell me, sir, you've miss Aubrey is in sight?-But bark! they're travelled it all over. come; I must escape-Now, love and fortune Dr. D. Into a pretty many parts of it. stand my friends! [Exit. Bridge. Well, and what say you, sir? you're Dr. D. Pless us, what hastes and hurries glad to be at home; nothing I warrant like he is in! and all for some young hussy-Ah! old England. Ah! what's France, and Spain, he'll never have a proper relish for the vener-and Burgundy, and Flanders! no, old Engable antique: I never shall bring down his land for my money; 'tis worth all the world mercury to touch the proper freezing point, besides. which that of a true virtuoso ought to stand Dr. D. Your pelly says as much; 'twill fill at: sometimes, indeed, he will contemplate a the pot, but starve the prain; 'tis full of corn, beautiful statue, as if it was a ooman; I never and sheep, and villages, and people: England, could persuade him to look upon a beautiful to the rest of the oorld, is like a flower-garden ooman, as if she was a statue. Enter BRIDGEMORE, MRS. BRIDGEMORE, and Bridge. Doctor, I kiss your hands; I kiss your hands, good doctor.-How these nobles live! Zooks, what a swinging chamber! Mrs. B. Why, Mr. Bridgemore, sure you think yourself in Leathersellers'-hall. Luc. Pray recollect yourself, papa; indeed this is not Fishstreet-hill. to a forest. Bridge. Well, but the people, sir; what say you to the people? Dr. D. Nothing: I never meddle with the human species; man, living man, is no object of my curiosity; nor ooman neither; at least, Mr. Pridgemore, till she shall be made a mummies of. Bridge. I understand you; you speak in the way of trade; money's your object. Dr. D. Money and trade! I scorn 'em Bridge. I wish it was: I'd soon unhouse both; the beaten track of commerce I disdain: this trumpery: I'd soon furnish it with better I've traced the Oxus, and the Po; traversed goods: why this profusion, child, will turn the Riphæan Mountains, and pierced into the your brain. inmost Tesarts of Kalmuc Tartary-follow Mrs. B. Law, how you stand and stare at trade indeed! no; I've followed the ravages things; stopping in the hall to count the ser- of Kouli Chan with rapturous delight: there vants, gaping at the lustre there, as if you'd is the land of wonders; finely depopulated; swallow it.-I suppose our daughter, when gloriously laid waste; fields without a hoof to she's a woman of quality, will behave as other tread 'em; fruits without a hand to gather 'em; women of quality do.-Lucinda, this is doctor with such a catalogue of pats, peetles, serDruid, lord Abberville's travelling tutor, a pents, scorpions, caterpillars, toads-oh! 'tis gentleman of very ancient family in North a recreating contemplation, to a philosophic Wales. Luc. So it should seem, if he's the representative of it. mind! Bridge. Out on 'em, filthy vermin, I hope you left 'em where you found 'em. Dr. D. No, to my honour be it spoken, I Dr. D. Without flattery, Mrs. Bridgemore, miss has very much the behaviours of an oo-have imported above fifty different sorts of man of quality already. Mrs. B. Come, sir, we'll join the company, lord Abberville will think us late. Dr. D. Yes truly, he's impatient for our coming; but you shall find him not at home. Mrs. B. How! Not at home? Luc. A mighty proof of his impatience, truly. mortal poisons into my native country. Bridge. Lack-a-day, there's people enough at home can poison their native country. Enter MRS. BRIDGEMORE and LUCINDA. So, ladies, have you finished your visit already? Mrs. B. We've made our courtesies and Dr. D. Why, 'twas some plaguy business took him out; but we'll dispatch it out of come away. hand, and wait upon you quickly. Bridge. Well, business, business must be done. Mrs. B. I thought my lord had been a man of fashion, not of business. Dr. D. Marry, the fates and the fortunes forbid that you should go, till my lord comes back. Luc. Why not? if my lord treats me already with the freedom of a husband, shouldn't I begin to practice the indifference of a wife? [Exeunt. Luc. And so he is; a man of the first fashion; you cannot have a fresher sample: the worst gallant in nature is your macaroni; Dr. D. Well, but the supper, Mr. Pridgewith the airs of a coquette you meet the more; you a citizen, and leave the supper? manners of a clown: fear keeps him in some Bridge. Your fifty mortal poisons have giawe before the men, but not one spark of ven me my supper: scorpions, and bats, and passion has he at heart, to remind him of toads-come, let's be gone. [Exit. Dr. D. Would they were in your pelly! the ladies. Mrs. B. Well, we must make our courtesy [Exit. SCENE II.—An Apartment in BRIDGEMORE's never be taken as flattery by another: in short, House. Enter MISS AUBREY and TYRREL, and a Aug. How I am watch'd in this house you well know, Mr. Tyrrel; therefore you must not stay what you have done and suffer'd for my sake I never can forget; and 'tis with joy I see you now, at last, surmount your difficulties by the recovery of lord Courtland: may your life never be again exposed on my account. my lord, I must entreat you to let the servants show you to some fitter apartment. I am here in a very particular situation, and have the strongest reasons for what I request. Lord A. I guess your reasons, but cannot admit them. I love you, madam; let that declaration be my excuse. Aug. Nay, now your frolic has the air of insult, and I insist upon your leaving me. [A rapping is heard at the Door. Luc. [From without] Who's within there? Aug. Hark, bark, miss Bridgemore, as I live.-Come in. Luc. Come in! why you have lock'd the door. Tyr. I glory in proctecting you: when he, or any other rake, repeats the like offence, I shall repeat the like correction. I am now going to my uncle Mortimer, who does not Aug. Lock'd! is it lock'd?-for shame, for know that I am in town. Life is not life shame! thus am I sacrific'd to your ungenewithout thee; never will I quit his feet, till I rous designs-she must come in. have obtained his voice for our alliance. Aug. Alas! What hope of that from Mr. Mortimer, whose rugged nature knows no happiness itself, nor feels complacency in that of others? Lord A. Stay, stay; she must not find me here; there's one retreat; your chamber; lock me in there: I may still escape. Luc. [From without] What are you about, miss Aubrey? Let me in. Aug. Where shall I turn myself? You've ruined all: if you're discovered, I shall never gain belief. Lord A. Be advised then we have_only Tyr. When you know Mr. Mortimer, you'll find how totally the world mistakes him. Farewell, my dear Augusta; back'd with thy virtuous wishes, how can I fail to prosper? [He goes out, and she enters an inner this chance left. [Goes to the Bed-room Door. Apartment. The Maid-servant immediately introduces Lord Abberville. Serv. All's safe; follow me, my lord; she is in her bed-chamber. Lord A. Where; where? Serv. There; where you see the light through the glass-door. If I thought you had any wicked designs in your head, I wouldn't have brought you here for the world; 1 should be murder'd if the family were to know it: for pity's sake, my lord, never betray me. Luc. Miss Aubrey, if you don't let me in immediately, I shall call up mamma; so pray unlock the door. Aug. I scarce know what I do. [After lockng Lord Abberville in, opens the outward Door] There, madam, you're obeyed. Luc. Why, surely, you affect extraordinary privacy. It seems you've had your Tyrrel in our absence. Aug. Yes, Mr. Tyrrel has been here. Aug. No, madam; my poor spirits suit my poor condition: you, I hope, are rich in every sense. Lord A. Go, get you gone; never talk of treason, my thoughts are full of love. [The Maid-servant goes out] First I'll secure the door: 'twill not be amiss to bar this retreat. Luc. She's happy I can see, though she [Locks the Door, and advances to the Glass- attempts to hide it: I can't bear her. [Aside] door] Ay, there she is! How pensive is -Pray, miss Aubrey, what are your designs that posture!-Musing on her condition; which, -to ruin this young man? in truth, is melancholy enough: an humble Aug. Madam! cousin to a vulgar tyrant.-'Sdeath, she can- Luc. Can you now in your heart suppose not choose but jump at my proposals.-See, that Mortimer will let his nephew marry you? she weeps.-I'm glad on't-Grief disposes to Depend upon't (I tell you as your friend) as compliance-Tis the very moment to assail soon as that old cynic hears of it (which I have taken care he shall), your hopes are her. [She comes to the Door, with the Candle crushed at once. in her Hand; seeing Lord Abberville, starts. Aug. When were they otherwise? Aug. Who's there; who's at the door? she seems confus'd-her eyes wander stranAh!gely: watching the bed-room door-what is Lord A. Hush, hush; your screams will it she looks at? rouse the house.-Tis I, miss Aubrey-'tis Aug. Where are you going? lord Abberville-Give me your hand-Nay, be composed.-Let me set down the candle: you are safe. Aug. Safe, my lord! Yes, I'm safe; but you are mistaken; miss Bridgemore's not at home; or, if she was, this is no place to meet her in. Lord A. I'm glad of that; bless'd in miss Aubrey's company, I wish no interruption from miss Bridgemore. Aug. I should be loath to think so; an avowal of baseness to one woman, should! Luc. Going! Nay, no where- she's alarmed-miss Aubrey, I have a foolish notion in my head, that Mr. Tyrrel's in this house. Aug. No, on my word-shall I light you to your room? Luc. So ready!-No; your own will serve: I can adjust my head-dress at your glassHey-day; all's fast-you've locked the doorAug. Have I, indeed? Luc. Yes, have you, madam; and if my suspicion's true, your lover's in it-open it. Aug. I beg to be excused. Luc. Oh! are you caught at last? Admit me. Aug. You cannot sure be serious-think I've the sanction of a guest. ACT II. SCENE L-A Library in MORTIMER'S House. Luc. Ridiculous! I'll raise the house-let me come to the bell. Mort. So! so! another day; another twelve Aug. Hold! hold! you don't know what hours round of folly and extravagance: 'pshaw! you do for your own sake desist: to save I am sick on't. What is it our men of geyour own confusion, more than mine, desist, nius are about? Jarring and jangling with and seek no further. each other, while a vast army of vices Luc. No, madam; if I spare you, may the runs the whole country at discretion. shame that waits for you fall on my head. Aug. At your own peril be it then! Look Enter JARVIS. over there. [Opens and discovers Lord Abberville. Now, Jarvis, what's your news? Luc. Astonishing! Lord Abberville! This is Jar. My morning budget, sir, a breakfast indeed extraordinary; this, of all frolics mo- of good deeds the offerings of a full heart, dern wit and gallantry have given birth to, and the return of an empty purse. There, is in the newest and the boldest style. sir, 've done your errand; and wish hereLord 4. Upon my life, miss Bridgemore, after you could find another agent for your my visit has been entirely innocent. charities. Luc. Oh, yes! I give you perfect credit for Mort. Why so, Charles? your innocence; the hour, the place, your Jar. Because the task grows heavy; besides, lordship's character, the lady's composure, all I'm old and foolish, and the sight is too af are innocence itself. Can't you affect a little fecting. surprise, ma'am, at finding a gentleman int Mort. Why doesn't do like me, then? your bed-room, though you placed him there Sheath a soft heart in a rough case, 'twill yourself? So excellent an actress might pre-wear the longer; veneer thyself, good Jarvis, tend a fit on the occasion: Oh, you have not as thy master does, and keep a marble outhalf your part. side to the world. Who dreams that I am Lord 4. Indeed, miss Bridgemore, you look the lewd fool of pity, and thou my pander, upon this in too serious a light. Jarvis, my provider? You found out the poor Luc. No: be assured I'm charmed with your fellow then, the half-pay officer I met last address; you are a perfect fashionable lover: Sunday- so agreeable to invite us to your house, so Jar. With difficulty; for he obtruded not well-bred to be from home, and so consider- his sorrows on the world; but in despair had ale to visit poor miss Aubrey in our ab- crept into a corner, and, with his wretched sence: altogether, I am puzzled which to family about him, was patiently expiring. prefer, your wit, politeness, or your honour. Mort. Pr'ythee, no more on't you sav'd Aug. Miss Bridgemore, 'tis in vain to urge him; you reliev'd him; no matter how; you my innocence to you; heaven and my own made a fellow-creature happy, that's enough. heart acquit me; I must endure the censure Jar. I did, sir; but his story's so affectingMort. Keep it to thyself, old man, then; Luc. O madam, with lord Abberville's pro- why must my heart be wrung? I too am one tection you may set that at nought: to him of nature's spoilt children, and hav'n't yet left I recommend you: your company in this off the tricks of the nursery. of the world. house will not be very welcome. [Exit. Lord A. [To her, as she goes out] Then, madam, she shall come to mine; my house, Enter Servant. Serv. Sir, Mr. Tyrrel's come to town, and Mort. Let him come in. Enter TYRrel. my arms are open to receive her. Fear begs to see you. nothing, set her at defiance; resign yourself to my protection; you shall face your tyrant, outface her, shine above her, put her down in splendour as in beauty; be no more the servile So, nephew, what brings you to town? I thing her cruelty has made you; but be the thought you was a prisoner in the country. life, the leader of each public pleasure, the envy of Tyr. I was; but now my lord Courtland all womankind, the mistress of my happiness- has obtained his liberty, no reason holds why Aug. And murderer of my own. No, no, I should not recover mine. my lord, I'll perish first: the last surviving Mort. Well, sir, how have you fill'd up orphan of a noble house, I'll not digrace it: your time? In practising fresh thrusts, or refrom these mean, unfeeling people, who to penting of that which is past? You've drawn the bounty of my ancestors owe all they your sword to satisfy one man, now think of have, I shall expect no mercy; but you, whom satisfying the rest of mankind. even pride might teach some virtue, you to Tyr. You know my story, sir: I drew my tempt me, you with unmanly cunning to se-sword in the defence of innocence; to punish duce distress yourself created, sinks you deep- and repel the libertine attempts of an er in contempt than heaven sinks me in po- bled ruffian; every man of honour would have verty and shame. [Exit. done the same. enno are Lord A. A very unpromising campaign truly; Mort. Yes, honour: you young men one lady lost, and the other in no way of subtle arguers; the cloak of honour covers being gained. Well, I'll return to my com- all your faults, as that of passion all your pany; there is this merit however in gaming, follies. that it makes all losses appear trivial but its Tyr. Honour is what mankind have made [Exit. it; and as we hold our lives upon these terms own. 378 FASHIONABLE LOVER. Cotin. Ah, maister Mortimer, it makes my with our lives it behoves us to defend them. Mort. You have made it reason then it heart drop blude to think how much gude seems; make it religion too, and put it out counsel I ha' cast away upon my laird; iaith of fashion with the world at once: of this be I hanna' stinted him o'that; I gee'd him rules sure, I would sooner cast my guineas in the and maxims of gude husbandry in plenty, but than give 'em to a duellist. But come, aw in vain, the dice ha' deafen'd him. Mort. Yes, and destroyed; his head, heart, Frank, you are one from prejudice, not principle: therefore we'll talk no more on't. Where happiness are gone to ruin; the least a gamester loses is his money. are you lodged? sea, Tyr. At the hotel hard by. Colin. Ecod and that's no trifle in this case: Mort. Then move your baggage hither, and last night's performances made no small hole keep house with me: you and I, nephew, in that. have such opposite pursuits that we can never justle; besides, they tell me you're in love; Mort. Whence learn you that? Colin. From little Naphthali of St. Mary 'twill make a good companion of you; you Axe: when a man borrows money of a Jew, shall rail at one sex, while I'm employed 'tis a presumption no Christian can be found with t'other, and thus we may both gratify to lend him any. our spleen at once. doors. Mort. Is your lord driven to such wretched Colin. Hoot! know you not that every lo Tyr. O, sir, unless you can consent to hear shifts? the praises of my lovely girl, from hour to hour, in endless repetition, never suffer me sing gamester has his Jew? He is your only doctor in a desperate case; when the reguwithin Mort. Thy girl, Frank, is every thing but lars have brought you to death's door, the rich, and that's a main blank in the catalogue quack is invited to usher you in. of a lady's perfections. your Mort. Your Jew, Colin, in the present case, Tyr. Fill it up then, dear uncle; a word favours more of the lawyer than the doctor: for I take it he makes you sign and seal as of your's will do it. Mort. True, boy, a word will do it; but long as you have effects. 'tis a long word; 'tis a lasting one; it should Mort. Bridgemore, you mean. Colin. You've hit the nail o'the hede; my be, therefore, a deliberate one; but let me see laird will sign to any thing; there's bonds, your girl; I'm a sour fellow; so the world and blanks, and bargains, and promissory nothinks of me; but it is against the proud, the tes, and a damn'd sight of rogueries, depend rich I war: poverty may be a misfortune to on't. Ecod he had a bundle for his breakfast, miss Aubrey; it would be hard to make it an as big as little Naphtali could carry; I would it had braken his bock1); and yet he is na' objection. Tyr. How generous is that sentiment!-half the knave of yon fat fellow upon FishLet me have your consent for my endeavours street-hill. at obtaining her's, and I shall be most happy. Colin. Ay, ay, he's at the bottom of the Mort. About it then; my part is soon made ready; yours is the task: you are to find out plot; this little Hebrew's only his jackall. Mort. I comprehend you: Bridgemore, unhappiness in marriage; I'm only to provide you with a fortune. [Exit Tyrrel] Well, der cover of this Jew, has been playing the Frank, I suspected thou hadst more courage usurer with lord Abberville, and means to than wit, when I heard of thy engaging in a pay his daughter's portion in parchment; this duel; now thou art for encount'ring a wife, must be prevented. I am convinc'd of it. A wife! 'sdeath, sure some planetary madness reigns amongst our the match is off. wives; the dog-star never sets, and the moon's horns are fallen on our heads. Enter COLIN MACLEOD. Colin. The gude time o'day to you, gude maister Mortimer. Mort. Well, Colin, what's the news at your house? Colin. You may spare your pains for that; Mort. Hey-day, friend Colin, what has put off that? Colin. Troth, maister Mortimer, I canna' satisfy you on that hede; but yesternight the job was done; methought the business never had a kindly aspect from the first. Mort. Well, as my lord has got rid of miss, I think he may very well spare her fortune. Colin. Odzooks, but that's no reason he should lose his own. Colin. Nay, no great spell1) of news, gude faith; aw 2) things with us gang on after the auld sort. I'm weary of my life amongst 'em; Mort. That, Colin, may be past my power the murrain take 'em all, sike3) a family of freebooters, maister Mortimer; an I speak a to hinder; yet even that shall be attempted: word to 'em, or preach up a little needful find out the Jew that Bridgemore has emeconomy, hoot! the whole clan is up in arms. ployed, and bring him hither, if you can. Colin. Let me alone for that; there never I may speak it in your ear, an the 'de'il himsell was to turn housekeeper, he could na' was a Jew since Samson's time that Colin pitch upon a fitter set; fellows of all trades, could na' deal with; an he hangs bock, and countries, and occupations; a ragamuffin crew; will na' follow kindly, troth, I'll lug him to the very refuse of the mob, that canna' count you by the ears; ay, will I, and his maister past twa generations without a gibbet in their the fat fellow into the bargain. Mort. No, no, leave me to deal with Bridge scutcheon. 1) Quantity. 2) All. 3) Such. 1) Broke his back. |