At Table with Wine
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----
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.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. But what are they to do who love Play better than
wine----
CARELESS. True--there's Harry diets himself--for gaming and is now under
a hazard Regimen.
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.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Aye that may be--but it is as impossible to follow
wine and play as to unite Love and Politics.
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.
CARELESS. Now then Charles--be honest and give us yours----
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!
CARELESS. O, then we'll find some canonized Vestals or heathen Goddesses
that will do I warrant----
CHARLES. Here then--Bumpers--you Rogues--Bumpers! Maria--Maria----
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Maria who?
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.
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----
CARELESS. Egad so I have--and I'll give him the song instead of the
Lady.----
SONG.--AND CHORUS--<4>
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]
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Bravo Careless--Ther's Toast and Sentiment too.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. E' faith there's infinite charity in that song.----
CHARLES. Gentlemen, you must excuse me a little.--Careless, take the
Chair, will you?
CARELESS. Nay prithee, Charles--what now--this is one of your Peerless
Beauties I suppose--has dropped in by chance?
CHARLES. No--Faith--to tell you the Truth 'tis a Jew and a Broker who
are come by appointment.
CARELESS. O dam it let's have the Jew in.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Aye and the Broker too by all means----
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Yes yes the Jew and the Broker.
CHARLES. Egad with all my Heart--Trip--bid the Gentlemen walk in--tho'
there's one of them a Stranger I can tell you----
TRIP. What Sir--would you chuse Mr. Premium to come up with----
FIRST GENTLEMAN. Yes--yes Mr. Premium certainly.
CARELESS. To be sure--Mr. Premium--by all means Charles, let us give
them some generous Burgundy, and perhaps they'll grow conscientious----
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.
Enter TRIP, SIR OLIVER, and MOSES
CHARLES. So--honest Moses--walk in--walk in pray Mr. Premium--that's the
Gentleman's name isn't it Moses.
MOSES. Yes Sir.
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.
MOSES. Success to Usury!
CARELESS. Right Moses--Usury is Prudence and industry and deserves to
succeed----
SIR OLIVER. Then Here is--all the success it deserves! [Drinks.]
CHARLES. Mr. Premium you and I are but strangers yet--but I hope we
shall be better acquainted by and bye----
SIR OLIVER. Yes Sir hope we shall--more intimately perhaps than you'll
wish. [Aside.<5>]
CARELESS. No, no, that won't do! Mr. Premium, you have demurred at the
toast, and must drink it in a pint bumper.
FIRST GENTLEMAN. A pint bumper, at least.
MOSES. Oh, pray, sir, consider--Mr. Premium's a gentleman.
CARELESS. And therefore loves good wine.
SECOND GENTLEMAN. Give Moses a quart glass--this is mutiny, and a high
contempt for the chair.
CARELESS. Here, now for't! I'll see justice done, to the last drop of my
bottle.
SIR OLIVER. Nay, pray, gentlemen--I did not expect this usage.
CHARLES. No, hang it, you shan't; Mr. Premium's a stranger.
SIR OLIVER. Odd! I wish I was well out of their company. [Aside.]
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?
CHARLES. I will! I will!--
[Exeunt SIR HARRY BUMPER and GENTLEMEN; CARELESS following.]
Careless.
CARELESS. [Returning.] Well!
CHARLES. Perhaps I may want you.
CARELESS. Oh, you know I am always ready: word, note, or bond, 'tis all
the same to me.
[Exit.]
MOSES. Sir, this is Mr. Premium, a gentleman of the strictest honour
and secrecy; and always performs what he undertakes. Mr. Premium, this
is----
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.
SIR OLIVER. Exceeding frank, upon my word. I see, sir, you are not a man
of many compliments.
CHARLES. Oh, no, sir! plain dealing in business I always think best.
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!
MOSES. Yes, indeed! You know I always speak the truth, and scorn to tell
a lie!
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!
SIR OLIVER. Well, but what security could you give? You have no land, I
suppose?
CHARLES. Not a mole-hill, nor a twig, but what's in the bough pots out
of the window!
SIR OLIVER. Nor any stock, I presume?
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?
SIR OLIVER. Why, to say the truth, I am.
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?
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.
CHARLES. Oh, no!--there can be no doubt. They tell me I'm a prodigious
favourite, and that he talks of leaving me everything.
SIR OLIVER. Indeed! this is the first I've heard of it.
CHARLES. Yes, yes, 'tis just so. Moses knows 'tis true; don't you,
Moses?
MOSES. Oh, yes! I'll swear to't.
SIR OLIVER. Egad, they'll persuade me presently I'm at Bengal. [Aside.]
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.
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.
CHARLES. Oh, yes, you would! the moment Sir Oliver dies, you know, you
would come on me for the money.
SIR OLIVER. Then I believe I should be the most unwelcome dun you ever
had in your life.
CHARLES. What! I suppose you're afraid that Sir Oliver is too good a
life?
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.
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.
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!
CHARLES. Ha! ha!--you're glad to hear that, little Premium?
SIR OLIVER. No, no, I'm not.
CHARLES. Yes, yes, you are--ha! ha! ha!--you know that mends your
chance.
SIR OLIVER. But I'm told Sir Oliver is coming over; nay, some say he is
actually arrived.
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?
MOSES. Oh, yes, certainly.
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?
MOSES. Yes, most undoubted!
SIR OLIVER. But, Sir, as I understand you want a few hundreds
immediately, is there nothing you could dispose of?
CHARLES. How do you mean?
SIR OLIVER. For instance, now, I have heard that your father left behind
him a great quantity of massy old plate.
CHARLES. O Lud! that's gone long ago. Moses can tell you how better than
I can.
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.
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.
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?
CHARLES. You must inquire of the auctioneer, Master Premium, for I don't
believe even Moses can direct you.
MOSES. I know nothing of books.
SIR OLIVER. So, so, nothing of the family property left, I suppose?
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!
SIR OLIVER. Hey! what the devil! sure, you wouldn't sell your
forefathers, would you?
CHARLES. Every man of them, to the best bidder.
SIR OLIVER. What! your great-uncles and aunts?
CHARLES. Ay, and my great-grandfathers and grandmothers too.
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?
CHARLES. Nay, my little broker, don't be angry: what need you care, if
you have your money's worth?
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!
Re-enter CARELESS
CARELESS. Come, Charles, what keeps you?
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!
CARELESS. Oh, burn your ancestors!
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.
CARELESS. Oh, have with you, if that's the case. I can handle a hammer
as well as a dice box! Going! going!
SIR OLIVER. Oh, the profligates! [Aside.]
CHARLES. Come, Moses, you shall be appraiser, if we want one. Gad's
life, little Premium, you don't seem to like the business?
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!
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?
[Exeunt.]
SIR OLIVER. I'll never forgive him; never! never!
END OF THE THIRD ACT