_Enter FRANK ROCHDALE._
_Frank._ Shuffleton's intelligence astonishes me!--So soon to throw
herself into the arms of another!----and what could effect, even if
time for perseverance had favoured him, such a person's success with
her!
_Enter SIR SIMON ROCHDALE._
_Sir Simon._ Why, Frank! I thought you were walking with Lady
Caroline.
_Frank._ No, sir.
_Sir Simon._ Ha! I wish you would learn some of the gallantries of
the present day from your friend, Tom Shuffleton:--but from being
careless of coming up to the fashion, damn it, you go beyond it? for
you neglect a woman three days before marriage, as much as half the
Tom Shuffletons three months after it.
_Frank._ As by entering into this marriage, sir, I shall perform the
duties of a son, I hope you will do me the justice to suppose I
shall not be basely negligent as a husband,
_Sir Simon._ Frank, you're a fool; and----
_Enter a SERVANT._
Well, sir?
_Serv._ A person, Sir Simon, says he wishes to see you on very
urgent business.
_Sir Simon._ And I have very urgent business, just now, with my
steward. Who is the person? How did he come?
_Serv._ On foot, Sir Simon.
_Sir Simon._ Oh, let him wait. [_Exit SERVANT._
At all events, I can't see this person for these two hours.--I wish
you would see him for me.
_Frank._ Certainly, sir,--any thing is refuge to me, now, from the
subject of matrimony. [_Aside, and going._
_Sir Simon._ But a word before you go. Damn it, my dear lad, why
can't you perceive I am labouring this marriage for your good? We
shall ennoble the Rochdales:--for, though my father,--your
grandfather,--did some service in elections (_that_ made him a
baronet), amassed property, and bought lands, and so on, yet, your
great grandfather--Come here----your great grandfather was a miller.
[_Half whispering._
_Frank._ [_Smiling._] I shall not respect his memory less, sir, for
knowing his occupation.
_Sir Simon._ But the world will, you blockhead: and, for your sake,
for the sake of our posterity, I would cross the cart breed, as much
as possible, by blood.
_Frank._ Is that of consequence, sir?
_Sir Simon._ Isn't it the common policy? and the necessities of your
boasters of pedigree produce a thousand intermarriages with people
of no pedigree at all;--till, at last, we so jumble a genealogy,
that, if the devil himself would pluck knowledge from the family
tree, he could hardly find out the original fruit.
[_Exeunt severally._
_Enter TOM SHUFFLETON, from the Park, following LADY CAROLINE
BRAYMORE._
_Shuff._ "The time is come for Iphigene to find,
"The miracle she wrought upon my mind;"
_Lady Car._ Don't talk to me.
_Shuff._ "For, now, by love, by force she shall be mine,
"Or death, if force should fail, shall finish my design."
_Lady Car._ I wish you would finish your nonsense.
_Shuff._ Nonsense:--'tis poetry; somebody told me 'twas written by
Dryden.
_Lady Car._ Perhaps so;----but all poetry is nonsense.
_Shuff._ Hear me, then, in prose.
_Lady Car._ Psha!--that's worse.
_Shuff._ Then I must express my meaning in pantomime. Shall I ogle
you?
_Lady Car._ You are a teasing wretch;--I have subjected myself, I
find, to very ill treatment, in this petty family;--and begin to
perceive I am a very weak woman.
_Shuff._ [_Aside._] Pretty well for that matter.
_Lady Car._ To find myself absolutely avoided by the gentleman I
meant to honour with my hand,--so pointedly neglected!----
_Shuff._ I must confess it looks a little like a complete cut.
_Lady Car._ And what you told me of the low attachment that----
_Shuff._ Nay, my dear Lady Caroline, don't say that I told you more
than----
_Lady Car._ I won't have it denied:--and I'm sure 'tis all true. See
here--here's an odious parchment Lord Fitz Balaam put into my hand
in the park.--A marriage license, I think he calls it--but if I
don't scatter it in a thousand pieces----
_Shuff._ [_Preventing her._] Softly, my dear Lady Caroline; that's a
license of marriage, you know. The names are inserted of
course.--Some of them may be rubbed a little in the carriage; but
they may be filled up at pleasure, you know.----Frank's my
friend,----and if he has been negligent, I say nothing; but the
parson of the parish is as blind as a beetle.
_Lady Car._ Now, don't you think, Mr. Shuffleton, I am a very ill
used person?
_Shuff._ I feel inwardly for you, Lady Caroline; but my friend makes
the subject delicate. Let us change it. Did you observe the steeple
upon the hill, at the end of the park pales?
_Lady Car._ Psha?--No.
_Shuff._ It belongs to one of the prettiest little village churches
you ever saw in your life. Let me show you the inside of the church,
Lady Caroline.
_Lady Car._ I am almost afraid: for, if I should make a rash vow
there, what is to become of my Lord Fitz Balaam?
_Shuff._ Oh, that's true; I had forgot his lordship:--but as the
exigencies of the times demand it, let us hurry the question through
the Commons, and when it has passed, with such strong independent
interest on our sides, it will hardly be thrown out by the Peerage.
[_Exeunt._