RAT. (_trying to check a laugh_) What's the matter, my dear fellow?
here sit down. (_making POS. sit down, who utters a cry of pain and
jumps up again, then seeing RAT. and PEG. looking at him, begins
shuffling his feet about again, and keeping his hand on his coat
tail_)
RAT. (_to PEG._) Tell Sergeant Jones from me to act upon the
information he has got without one moment's loss of time; run, fly!
(_PEGGY trots out at door, L. U. E._)
RAT. (_to POS. and slapping him on the shoulder_) This is famous news
indeed, eh?
POS. Yes, glorious news, though for my part I can't see that there's
anything at all in finding a wide-a-wake--any man might lose his
wide-a-wake--I might lose mine, and it might be a green wide-a-wake.
RAT. Heaven forbid, for I should immediately arrest you, my dear
friend, but what of that? your charming cousin is too well aware of
your intense affection.
POS. What d'ye mean by _intense affection?_ As I said before, I
respect her--I like her, but--
RAT. But what?
POS. (_grasping RATCLIFFE'S hand and assuming a desperate tone and
manner_) The dreadful truth must be spoken! I'm a rascal--I love
another--the interesting widow of a large straw bonnet maker. When I
say large, I don't allude to the bonnet maker, but the business--and
shall I basely forsake the confiding woman who has placed all her
straw bonnets--I mean all her happiness in my hands?--No! though my
cousin _will_ soon have her £15,000 again.
RAT. That's very doubtful.
POS. No such thing. I'm certain of it, and so are you; still, never,
never shall it be said of Postlethwaite, that he was actuated by the
love of filthy lucre--so you'll wish her good bye for me, won't you?
RAT. Stay. Suppose you write a few lines to her, stating your reasons
for renouncing her hand, and I'll deliver the letter to her.
POS. I'll do it at once, (_aside_) and considering that there's very
little chance of Cousin Somerton's seeing a shilling of her money
again, and a very considerable chance of my getting into trouble; the
sooner I make my way back to Arabella Row, Pimlico, the better. (_goes
into room, R. 2 E._)
RAT. (_anxiously_) _Will_ he write to her? will he, indeed, renounce
her hand?
_Enter MRS. SOMERTON, L._
MRS. S. (_aside_) Still here, 'tis well; and now, Captain Ratcliffe,
it is my turn to frighten you.
RAT. (_resuming his official manner_) Well, madam, have you found this
important paper?
MRS. S. Yes, sir, but conceive my annoyance, when instead of a
receipt, as I anticipated, I found the paper consisted of a few
wretched insipid verses; intended to be very complimentary, no doubt,
but commonplace in the extreme.
RAT. (_aside_) This is pleasant. I thought they were remarkably pretty
verses. (_aloud_) Might I be favoured with a perusal of them?
MRS. S. Unfortunately, a near neighbour of mine, a _magistrate_
happened to look in, and thinking it would forward the ends of
justice, I placed the paper in his hands.
RAT. A magistrate?
MRS. S. Yes, who on looking at it, suddenly exclaimed, "I cannot be
mistaken--no, I'll swear to the handwriting."