SCENE I.--O'Dedimus's _office--Enter_ Charles _pulling in_ Ponder _by
the collar._
_Char._ This way, sirrah, this way, and now out with your confession, if
you expect mercy at my hands.
_Pon._ I will, sir, I will: but I expect no mercy at your hands, for
you've already handled me most unmercifully--(_Charles shakes him_) what
would you please to have me confess, sir?
_Char._ I have seen old Abel Grouse--he has told me the story of his
daughter's marriage with this amiable cousin of mine: now, sirrah,
confess the truth--were you present, or were you not? out with it
(_shakes him_).
_Pon._ Now pray recollect yourself--do, sir--think a little.
_Char._ Recollect myself?
_Pon._ Ay, sir, if you will but take time to reflect, you'll give _me_
time to collect my scattered thoughts, which you have completely shaken
out of my pericranium.
_Char._ No equivocation, answer directly, or though you're no longer my
servant, by heavens I'll--
_Pon._ Sir--for heaven's sake!--you'll shake nothing more out of me,
depend on't--if you'll be pleased to pause a moment, I'll think of an
answer.
_Charles._ It requires no recollection to say whether you were a
witness--
_Pon._ No indeed, sir, ask my master if I was; besides if I had been, my
conscience wouldn't let me disclose it.
_Charles._ Your conscience! good, and you're articled to an attorney!
_Pon._ True, sir, but there's a deal of conscience in our office; if my
master knew I betrayed his secrets even to you, I believe (in
conscience,) he'd hang me if he could.
_Charles._ If my old friend O'Dedimus proves a rogue at last, I shan't
wonder that you have followed his example.
_Pon._ No, sir, for I always follow my master's example, even though it
should be in the path of roguery; compliment apart sir, I always
followed yours.
_Charles._ Puppy, you trifle with my patience.
_Pon._ No indeed, sir, I never play with edg'd tools.
_Charles._ You wont acknowledge it then.
_Pon._ Yes, sir, I'll acknowledge the truth, but I scorn a lie.
_Charles._ 'Tis true I always thought you honest. I have ever trusted
you, Ponder, even as a friend: I do not believe you capable of deceiving
me.
_Pon._ Sir, (_gulping_) I can't swallow that! it choaks me (_falling on
his knees_); forgive me, dear master that _was_; your threats I could
withstand, your violence I could bear, but your kindness and good
opinion there is no resisting; promise you wont betray me.
_Charles._ So; now it comes. I do.
_Pon._ Then, sir, the whole truth shall out, they _are_ married, sir,
and they are _not_ married, sir.
_Charles._ Enigma too!
_Pon._ Yes, sir, they are married, but the priest was ordained by my
master, and the license was of his own granting, and so they are not
married, and now the enigma's explained.
_Charles._ Your master then is a villain!
_Pon._ I don't know, sir, that puzzles me: but he's such an honest
follow I can hardly think him a rogue--though I fancy, sir, between
ourselves, he's like the rest of the world, half and half, or like
punch, sir, a mixture of opposites.
_Charles._ So! villany has been thriving in my absence. If you feel the
attachment you profess why did you not confide this to me before?
_Pon._ Sir, truth to speak, I did not tell you, because, knowing the
natural gentleness of your disposition, which I have so often admired, I
was alarmed, lest the sudden shock should cause one of those irascible
fits, which I have so often witnessed, and produce some of those shakes
and buffets, which to my unspeakable astonishment, I have so often
experienced.
_Charles._ And which, I can tell you, you have now so narrowly escaped.
_Pon._ True sir, I have escaped as narrowly as a felon who gets his
reprieve five minutes _after_ execution.
_Charles._ Something must be done. I am involved in a quarrel with Helen
too! curse on my irritable temper.
_Pon._ So I say, sir--try and mend it; pray do.
_Charles._ I am resolved to have another interview with her;--to throw
myself at her feet, and sue for pardon! Though fate should oppose our
union, I may still preserve her from the arms of a villain, who is
capable of deceiving the innocent he could not seduce: and of planting a
dagger in the female heart, where nature has bestowed her softest
attributes, and has only left it _weak_, that man might cherish,
shelter, and protect it. [_Exit._
_Pon._ So! now I'm a rogue both ways--If I escape punishment one way, I
shall certainly meet it the other. But if my good luck saves me both
ways I shall never more credit a fortune-teller: for one once predicted,
that I was born to be hanged. [_Exit._
SCENE II.--_Sir Rowland's._
_Enter_ Sir Rowland _and_ O'Dedimus.
_Sir R._ You have betrayed me then!--Did not I caution you to keep
secret from my nephew this accursed loss.
_O'Ded._ And so you did sure enough, but somehow it slipt out before I
said a word about it; but I told him it was a secret, and I dare say he
wont mention it.
_Sir R._ But you say, that he demands the immediate liquidation.
_O'Ded._ Ay, sir, and has given me orders to proceed against you.
_Sir R._ Is it possible! in a moment could I arrest his impious
progress; but I will probe him to the quick, did he threaten me, say
you?--There is however one way to save _him_ from this public avowal of
his baseness, and _me_ from his intended persecution--a marriage between
Charles and Mrs. Richland.
_O'Ded._ The widow's as rich as the Wicklow mines!
_Sir R._ The boy refuses to comply with my wishes; we may find means,
however, to compel him.
_O'Ded._ He's a sailor; and gentlemen of his kidney are generally pretty
tough when they take a notion in their heads.
_Sir R._ I am resolved to carry my point. I have reason to believe you
advanced him a sum of money.
_O'Ded._ I did that thing--he's a brave fellow; I'd do that thing again.
_Sir R._ You did wrong, sir, to encourage a young spendthrift in
disobedience to his father.
_O'Ded._ I did right, sir, to assist the son of a client and the nephew
of a benefactor, especially when his father hadn't the civility to do
it.
_Sir R._ Mr. O'Dedimus, you grow impertinent.
_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I grow old; and 'tis one privilege of age to grow
blunt. I advanced your son a sum of money, because I esteemed him. I
tack'd no usurious obligation to the bond he gave me, and I never came
to ask you for security.
_Sir R._ You _have_ his bond then--
_O'Ded._ I have, sir; his bond and judgment for two hundred pounds.
_Sir R._ It is enough: then you can indeed assist my views,--the dread
of confinement will, no doubt, alter his resolution: you must enter up
judgment, and proceed on your bond.
_O'Ded._ If I proceed upon my bond, it will be very much against my
judgment.
_Sir R._ In order to alarm him, you must arrest him immediately.
_O'Ded._ Sir Rowland, I wish to treat you with respect--but when without
a blush on your cheek you ask me to make myself a rascal, I must either
be a scoundrel ready-made to your hands, for respecting you, or a damn'd
hypocrite for pretending to do it--I see you are angry, sir, and I can't
help that; and so, having delivered my message, for fear I should say
any thing uncivil or ungenteel, I wish you a most beautiful good
morning. [_Exit._
_Sir R._ Then I have but one way left--my fatal secret must be publicly
revealed--oh horror! ruin irretrievable is preferable--never--never--that
secret shall die with _me_--(_Enter Falkner_) as 'tis probably
already buried in the grave with Falkner.
_Falk._ 'Tis false--'tis buried only in his heart!
_Sir R._ Falkner!
_Falk._ 'Tis eighteen years since last we met. You have not, I find,
forgotten the theme on which we parted.
_Sir R._ Oh, no! my heart's reproaches never would allow me! Oh
Falkner--I and the world for many years have thought you numbered with
the dead.
_Falk._ To the world I was so--I have returned to it to do an act of
justice.
_Sir R._ Will you then betray me?
_Falk._ During eighteen years, sir, I have been the depositary of a
secret, which, if it does not actually affect your life, affects what
should be dearer than life, your honor. If, in the moment that your
ill-judged confidence avowed you as the man you are, and robbed me of
that friendship which I held sacred as my being--If in that bitter
moment I concealed my knowledge of your guilt from an imperious
principle of honor, it is not likely, that the years which time has
added to my life, should have taught me perfidy--your secret still is
safe.
_Sir R._ Oh, Falkner--you have snatched a load of misery from my heart;
I breathe, I live again.
_Falk._ Your exultation flows from a polluted source--I return to the
world to seek you, to warm and to expostulate; I come to urge you to
brave the infamy you have deserved; to court disgrace as the punishment
you merit: briefly to avow your guilty secret.
_Sir R._ Name it not for mercy's sake! It is impossible! How shall I
sustain the world's contempt, its scorn, revilings and reproaches?
_Falk._ Can he, who has sustained so long the reproaches of his
conscience, fear the world's revilings?--Oh, Austencourt! Once you had a
heart.
_Sir R._ Sir, it is callous now to every thing but shame; when it lost
_you_, its dearest only friend, its noblest feelings were extinguished:
my crime has been my punishment, for it has brought on me nothing but
remorse and misery: still is my fame untainted by the world, and I will
never court its contumely.
_Falk._ You are determined--
_Sir R._ I am!
_Falk._ Have you no fear from me?
_Sir R._ None! You have renewed your promise, and I am safe.
_Falk._ Nothing then remains for me but to return to that obscurity from
whence I have emerged--had I found you barely leaning to the side of
virtue, I had arguments to urge that might have fixed a wavering
purpose; but I find you resolute, hardened and determined in guilt, and
I leave you to your fate.
_Sir R._ Stay, Falkner, there is a meaning in your words.
_Falk._ A dreadful precipice lies before you: be wary how you tread!
there is a being injured by your----by lord Austencourt, see that he
makes her reparation by an immediate marriage--look first to that.
_Sir R._ To such a degradation could _I_ forget my noble ancestry, _he_
never will consent.
_Falk._ Look next to yourself: he is not a half villain, and it is not
the ties of consanguinity will save you from a jail. Beware how you
proceed with Charles--you see I am acquainted with more than you
suspected; look to it, sir; for the day is not yet passed that by
restoring you to virtue, may restore to you a friend; or should you
persevere in guilty silence, that may draw down unexpected vengeance on
your head-- [_Exit._
_Sir R._ Mysterious man! a moment stay! I cannot live in this dreadful
uncertainty! whatever is my fate, it shall be decided quickly. [_Exit._
SCENE III.--_An apartment at sir Willoughby's; a door in the flat.
Enter_ Helen _and_ Charles.
_Helen._ I tell you, it is unless to follow me, sir. The proud spirit
you evinced this morning, might have saved you methinks from this
meanness of solicitation.
_Charles._ Surely now a frank acknowledgment of error deserves a milder
epithet than meanness.
_Helen._ As you seem equally disposed, sir, to quarrel with my words, as
you are to question my conduct, I fear you will have little cause to
congratulate yourself on this _forced_ and _tiresome_ interview.
_Charles._ _Forced_ interview! Did ever woman so consider the anxiety of
a lover to seek explanation and forgiveness! Helen, Helen, you torture
me; is this generous?--is it like yourself? surely if you lov'd me--
_Helen._ Charles--I do love you--that, is, I _did_ love you, but--I
don't love you, but (_aside_) ah! now I'm going to make bad worse.
_Charles._ But _what_, Helen?
_Helen._ The violence of temper you have discovered this morning, has
shown me the dark side of your character; it has given a pause to
affection, and afforded me time to reflect--now though I do really and
truly believe that--you--love me Charles.
_Sir W._ (_behind_) I must see my daughter directly--where is she!
_Enter_ Tiffany _running._
_Tiffany._ Ma'am, ma'am, your father's coming up stairs, with a letter
in his hand, muttering something about Mr. Charles; as sure as life
you'll be discovered.
_Helen._ For heav'n's sake hide yourself; I would not have him find you
here for worlds--here, step into the music-room.
_Charles._ Promise me first your forgiveness.
_Helen._ Charles, retire, I entreat you--make haste, he is here.
_Charles._ On my knees--
_Helen._ Then kneel in the next room.
_Charles._ Give me but your hand.
_Helen._ That is now at my own disposal--I beseech you go--(_Charles
just gains the door when enter sir Willoughby with a letter in his hand,
and Lady Worret._)
_Sir W._ Gadzooks! Here's a discovery!
_Helen._ A discovery, sir? (_Helen looks at the door_)
_Sir W._ Ay, a discovery indeed!--Ods life! I'm in a furious passion!
_Helen._ Dear sir, not with me I hope--
_Lady W._ Let me entreat you sir Willoughby to compose yourself;
recollect that anger is very apt to bring on the gout.
_Sir W._ Damn the gout, I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye,
daughter--
_Helen._ They know he's here! so I may as well own it at once.
_Lady W._ Pray compose yourself, remember we have no _proof_.
_Sir W._ Why that's true--that is remarkably true--I must compose
myself--I _will_--I _do_--I _am_ composed--and now let me open the
affair with coolness and deliberation! Daughter, come hither.
_Helen._ Yes, sir--now for it!--
_Sir W._ Daughter, you are in general, a very good, dutiful, and
obedient child--
_Helen._ I know it, papa--and was from a child, and I always will be.
_Lady W._ Allow me, sir Willoughby--you are in general, child, a very
headstrong, disobedient, and undutiful daughter.
_Helen._ I know it, mamma--and was from a child, and always will be.
_Lady W._ How, madam!--Remember, sir Willoughby--there is a proper
medium between too violent a severity, and too gentle a lenity.
_Sir W._ Zounds, madam, in your own curs'd economy there is no
medium--but don't bawl so, or we shall be overheard.
_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, you are very ill I'm sure; but I must now
attend to this business, daughter, we have heard that Charles--
_Sir W._ Lady Worret, my love, let _me_ speak--you know, child, it is
the duty of an _obedient_ daughter, to _obey_ her parents.
_Helen._ I know it, papa, and when I _obey you_, I am _generally
obedient_.
_Lady W._ In short, child, I say again, we learn that Charles----
_Sir W._ Lady Worret, lady Worret, you are too abrupt, od-rabbit it,
madam, I will be heard: this affair concerns the _honor_ of my family,
and on this one occasion, I will be my own spokesman.
_Lady W._ Oh heavens! Your violence affects my brain.
_Sir W._ Does it? I wish it would affect your tongue, with all my heart:
bless my soul, what have I said! Lady Worret! lady Worret! you drive me
out of my senses, and then wonder that I act like a madman.
_Lady W._ Barbarous man, your cruelty will break my heart, and I shall
leave you, sir Willoughby, to deplore my loss, in unavailing despair,
and everlasting anguish. [_Exit._
_Sir W._ (_aside_) I am afraid not: such despair and anguish will never
be my--happy--lot!--bless me, how quiet the room is--what can be--oh, my
wife's gone! now then we may proceed to business--and so daughter, this
young fellow, Charles, has dared to return, in direct disobedience to
his father's commands.
_Helen._ I had better confess it all at once--he has, he has, my dear
papa. I do confess it was very, very wrong; but pray now do forgive--
_Sir W._ _I_--forgive him! never; nor his father will never forgive him;
sir Rowland writes me here, to take care of you; I have before given him
my solemn promise to prevent your meeting, and I am sorry to say, I
haven't the least doubt that you know he is here, and will--
_Helen._ I do confess, _he_ is here, papa.
_Sir W._ Yes, you'll confess it fast enough, now I've found it out.
_Helen._ Indeed I was so afraid you would find it out, that I----
_Sir W._ Find it out! his father writes me word, he has been here in the
village these three hours!
_Helen._ In the _village_! Oh, what, you heard he was in the _village_!
_Sir W._ Yes, and being afraid he should find his way to my house--egad
I never was brisker after the fox-hounds than I was after you, in fear
of finding you at a fault, you puss.
_Helen._ Oh! you were afraid he should come _here_, were you?
_Sir W._ Yes; but I'll take care he shan't; however, as my maxim is (now
my wife doesn't hear me) to trust your sex no farther than I can
possibly help, I shall just put you, my dear child, under lock and key,
'till this young son of the ocean, is bundled off to sea again.
_Helen._ What! lock me up!
_Sir W._ Damme if I don't. Come, walk into that room, and I'll take the
key with me. (_pointing to the room where Charles entered._)
_Helen._ Into _that_ room?
_Sir W._ Yes.
_Helen._ And do you think I shall stay there by myself?
_Sir W._ No, no. Here Tiffany! (_enter_ Tiffany) Miss Pert here shall
keep you company. I'll have no whisperings through key-holes, nor
letters thrust under doors.
_Helen._ And you'll really lock me up in that room!
_Sir W._ Upon my soul I will.
_Helen._ Now, dear papa, be persuaded; take my advice, and don't.
_Sir W._ If I _don't_, I wish you may be in Charles Austencourt's arms
in three minutes from this present speaking.
_Helen._ And if you _do_, take my word for it I might be in his arms if
I chose, in less than two minutes from this present warning.
_Sir W._ Might you so? Ha, ha! I'll give you leave if you can: for
unless you jump into them out of the window, I'll defy the devil and all
his imps to bring you together.
_Helen._ We shall come together without their assistance, depend on it,
papa.
_Sir W._ Very well; and now, my dear, walk in.
_Helen._ With all my heart; only remember you had better not. (_He puts
her in._)
_Sir W._ That's a good girl; and you, you baggage, in with you (_to
Tiffany, who goes in._)
_Sir W._ (_shuts the door and locks it_) "Safe bind, safe find," is one
of my lady Worret's favourite proverbs; and that's the only reason why I
in general dislike it (_going._)
_Enter_ Falkner.
_Sir W._ Once more welcome, my dear Falkner. What brings you back so
soon?
_Falk._ You have a daughter--
_Sir W._ Well, I know I have.
_Falk._ And a wife.
_Sir W._ I'm much obliged to you for the information. You have been a
widower some years I believe.
_Falk._ What of that? do you envy me?
_Sir W._ Envy you! what! because you are a widower? Eh? Zounds, I
believe he is laughing at me (_aside._)
_Falk._ I am just informed that every thing is finally arranged between
your lady and his lordship respecting Helen's marriage.
_Sir W._ Yes, every thing is happily settled.
_Falk._ I am sincerely sorry to hear it.
_Sir W._ You are! I should have thought Mr. Falkner, that my daughter's
happiness was dear to you.
_Falk._ It is, and therefore I do not wish to see her married to lord
Austencourt.
_Sir W._ Why then what the devil is it you mean?
_Falk._ To see her married to the man of her heart, with whom I trust to
see her as happy--as you are with lady Worret.
_Sir W._ Yes, ha! ha! ha! yes! but you are in jest respecting my
daughter.
_Falk._ No matter! where is Helen?
_Sir W._ Safe under lock and key.
_Falk._ Under lock and key!
_Sir W._ Ay, in that very room. I've locked her up to keep her from that
hot-headed young rogue, Charles Austencourt. Should you like to see her?
She's grown a fine young woman.
_Falk._ With all my heart.
_Sir W._ You'll be surprised, I can tell you.
_Falk._ I dare say.
_Sir W._ We'll pop in upon her when she least expects it. I'll bet my
life you'll be astonished at her appearance.
_Falk._ Well, I shall be glad to see your daughter; but she must not
marry this lord.
_Sir W._ No! Who then?
_Falk._ The man she loves.
_Sir W._ Hey! oh yes! but who do you mean! Charles Austencourt?
(_opening the door._)
_Enter_ Lady Worret, _suddenly._
_Lady W._ Charles Austencourt!
_Falk._ (_aloud, and striking the floor with his stick._) Ay, Charles
Austencourt!
_Charles_ (_entering._) Here am I. Who calls?
Helen _and_ Tiffany _come forward, and_ Tiffany _goes off._
_Sir W._ Fire and fagots! what do I see?
_Lady W._ Ah Heavens defend me! what do I behold?
_Falk._ Why, is this the surprise you promised me? The astonishment
seems general. Pray, sir Willoughby, explain this puppet show!
_Lady W._ Ay! pray sir Willoughby explain--
_Sir W._ Curse me if I can.
_Helen._ I told you how it would be, papa, and you would not believe me!
_Sir W._ So! pray, sir, condescend to inform lady Worret and me, how you
introduced yourself into that most extraordinary situation.
_Charles._ Sir, I shall make no mystery of it, nor attempt to screen you
from her ladyship's just reproaches, by concealing one atom of the
truth. The fact is, madam, that sir Willoughby not only in my hearing,
gave Miss Helen his unrestricted permission to throw herself into my
arms, but actually forced her into the room where I was quietly seated,
and positively and deliberately lock'd us in together!
_Lady W._ Oh! I shall expire!
_Sir W._ I've heard of matchless impudence, but curse me if this isn't
the paragon of the species! Zounds! I'm in a wonderful passion!
Daughter, I am resolved to have this affair explained to my
satisfaction.
_Helen._ You _may_ have it explained, papa, but I fear it won't be to
your _satisfaction_.
_Charles._ No, sir, nor to her ladyship's either, and now, as my
situation here is not remarkably agreeable I take my leave: madam, your
most obedient, and sir Willoughby, the next time you propose an
agreeable surprise for your friends--
_Sir W._ Harkye sir, how you came into my house I can't tell, but if you
don't presently walk out of it.
_Charles._ I say, I heartily hope that you may accomplish your purpose.
_Sir W._ Zounds, sir, leave my house.
_Charles._ Without finding yourself the most astonished of the party!
[_Exit._
_Sir W._ Thank heaven my house is rid of him.
_Lady W._ As usual, sir Willoughby, a precious business you've made of
this!
_Sir W._ Death and furies, my Lady Worret--
_Falk._ Gently, my old friend, gently: I'm one too many here during
these little domestic discussions; but before I go, on two points let me
caution you; let your daughter choose her own husband if you wish her to
have one without leaping out of the window to get at him; and be master
of your own house and your own wife if you do not wish to continue, what
you now are, the laughing-stock of all your acquaintance.-- [_Exit._
_Lady W._ Ah! the barbarian!
_Sir W._ (_appears astonished_) I'm thunderstruck (_makes signs to Helen
to go before._)
_Helen._ Won't you go first, papa?
_Sir W._ Hey? If I lose sight of you till you've explained this
business, may I be laid up with the gout while you are galloping the
Gretna Green! "Be master of your house and wife if you don't wish to
continue, _what you now are_!--Hey? the laughing-stock of all your
acquaintance!" Sir Willoughby Worret the laughing stock of all his
acquaintance! I think I see my self the laughing-stock of all my
acquaintance (_pointing to the door_) I'll follow you ladies! I'll
reform! 'tis never too late to mend! [_Exeunt._
_End of Act. IV._
ACT V.
SCENE I.--_An apartment at_ sir Willoughby Worret's. _Enter_ sir
Willoughby _and_ lady Worret.
_Sir W._ Lady Worret! lady Worret! I will have a reform. I am at last
resolved to be master of my own house, and so let us come to a right
understanding, and I dare say we shall be the better friends for it in
future.
_Lady W._ You shall see, sir Willoughby, that I can change as suddenly
as yourself. Though you have seen my delicate system deranged on
_slight_ occasions, you will find that in essential ones I have still
spirit for resentment.
_Sir W._ I'll have my house in future conducted as a gentleman's should
be, and I will no longer suffer my wife to make herself the object of
ridicule to all her servants. So I'll give up the folly of wishing to be
thought a _tender_ husband, for the real honour of being found a
_respectable_ one. I'll make a glorious bonfire of all your musty
collection of family receipt-books! and when I deliver up your keys to
an honest housekeeper, I'll keep one back of a snug apartment in which
to deposit a rebellious wife.
_Lady W._ That will be indeed the way to make yourself respectable. I
have found means to manage you for some years, and it will be my own
fault if I don't do so still.
_Sir W._ Surely I dream! what? have you _managed_ me? Hey? Zounds! I
never suspected that. Has sir Willoughby Worret been lead in
leading-strings all this time? Death and forty devils, madam, have you
presumed to manage _me_?
_Lady W._ Yes, sir; but you had better be silent on the subject, unless
you mean to expose yourself to your daughter and all the world.
_Sir W._ Ay, Madam, with all my heart; my daughter and all the world
shall know it.
_Enter_ Helen.
_Helen._ Here's a pretty piece of work!--what's the matter now, I
wonder?
_Lady W._ How dare you overhear our domestic dissentions. What business
have you to know we were quarrelling, madam?
_Helen._ Lord love you! if I had heard it, I should not have listened,
for its nothing new, you know, when you're _alone_; though you both look
so _loving_ in _public_.
_Sir W._ That's true--that is _lamentably_ true--but all the world
_shall_ know it--I'll proclaim it; I'll print it--I'll advertise
it!--She has usurped my rights and my power; and her fate, as every
usurper's should be, shall be _public_ downfall and disgrace.
_Helen._ What, papa! and won't you let mamma-in-law rule the roast any
longer?
_Sir W._ No,--I am resolved from this moment no longer to give way to
her absurd whims and wishes.
_Helen._ You are!
_Sir W._ Absolutely and immovably.
_Helen._ And you will venture to contradict her?
_Sir W._ On every occasion--right or wrong.
_Helen._ That's right--Pray, madam, don't you wish me to marry lord
Austencourt?
_Lady W._ You know my _will_ on that head, Miss Helen!
_Helen._ Then, papa, of course you wish me to marry _Charles_
Austencourt.
_Sir W._ What! no such thing--no such thing--what! marry a beggar?
_Helen._ But you won't let mamma rule the roast, will you, sir?
_Sir W._ 'Tis a great match! I believe in that _one_ point we shall
still agree--
_Lady W._ You may spare your persuasions, Madam, and leave the room.
_Sir W._ What--my daughter leave the room? Stay here, Helen.
_Helen._ To be sure I shall--I came on purpose to tell you the news! oh,
tis a pretty piece of work!
_Sir W._ What does the girl mean?
_Helen._ Why, I mean that in order to ruin a poor innocent girl, in our
neighbourhood, this amiable lord has prevailed on her to consent to a
private marriage--and it now comes out that it was all a mock marriage,
performed by a sham priest, and a false license!
_Lady W._ I don't believe one word of it.
_Sir W._ But I do--and shall inquire into it immediately.
_Lady W._ Such a match for your daughter is not to be relinquished on
slight grounds; and though his lordship should have been guilty of some
indiscretion, it will not alter my resolution respecting his union with
Helen.
_Sir W._ No--but it will mine--and to prove to you, madam, that however
you may rule your household, you shall no longer rule _me_--if the story
has any foundation--I say--she _shall not_ marry lord Austencourt.
_Lady W._ Shall not?
_Sir W._ No, Madam, shall not--and so ends your management, and thus
begins my career of new-born authority. I'm out of leading-strings now,
and madam, I'll manage you, damn me if--I--do--not! [_Exit Sir
Willoughby._
_Helen_ (_to Lady W._) You hear papa's _will_ on that head, ma'am.
_Lady W._ I hear nothing!--I see nothing!--I shall go mad with vexation
and disappointment, and if I do not break his resolution, I am
determined to break his heart; and my _own_ heart, and _your_ heart, and
the hearts of all the rest of the family. [_Exit._
_Helen._ There she goes, with a laudable matrimonial resolution. Heigho!
with such an example before my eyes, I believe I shall never have
resolution to die an old maid. Oh, Charles, Charles--why did you take me
at my word!--Bless me! sure I saw him then--'tis he indeed! So, my
gentleman, are you there? I'll just retire and watch his motions a
little (_retires._)
_Enter Charles Austencourt, cautiously._
_Charles._ What a pretty state am I reduced to? though I am resolved to
speak with this ungrateful girl but once more before I leave her for
ever; here am I, skulking under the enemy's batteries as though I was
afraid of an encounter!--Yes, I'll see her, upbraid her, and then leave
her for ever! heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl,
and--however, I am resolved that nothing on earth--not even her tears,
shall now induce me to forgive her. (_Tiffany crosses the stage._)
_Charles._ Ha!--harkye, young woman! pray are the family at home?
_Tiffany._ My lady is at home, sir--would you please to see her?
_Charles._ Your lady--do you mean your _young_ lady?
_Tiffany._ No, sir, I mean my _lady_.
_Charles._ What, your _old_ lady?--No--I don't wish to see her. Are all
the rest of the family from home--
_Tiffany._ No, sir--sir Willoughby is within--I'll tell him you are
here. (_going._)
_Charles._ By no means--stay--stay! what then, they are all at home
except Miss Helen.
_Tiffany._ She's at home too, sir--but I suppose she don't wish to see
you.
_Charles._ _You suppose!_
_Tiffany._ I'm sure she's been in a monstrous ill-humour ever since you
came back, sir.
_Charles._ The devil she has!--and pray now are you of opinion that my
return is the cause of her ill-humour?
_Tiffany._ Lord, sir--what interest have I in knowing such things?--
_Charles._ Interest!--oh, ho! the old story! why harkye, my dear--your
mistress has a lord for her lover, so I suppose he has secured a warmer
interest than I can afford to purchase--however, I know the custom, and
thus I comply with it, in hopes you will tell me whether you really
think my return has caused your young mistress' ill-humour----(_gives
money_).
_Tiffany._ A guinea! well! I declare! why really, sir--when I say Miss
Helen has been out of humour on your account, I don't mean to say it is
on account of your _return_, but on account of your going away again--
_Charles._ No! my dear Tiffany!
_Tiffany._ And I am sure I don't wonder at her being cross about it, for
if I was my mistress I never would listen with patience (any more than
she does) to such a disagreeable creature as my lord, while such a
generous nice gentleman as you was ready to make love to me.
_Charles._ You couldn't?
_Tiffany._ No, sir--and I'm sure she's quite altered and melancholy gone
since you quarrelled with her, and she vows now more than ever that she
never will consent to marry my lord, or any body but you--(_Helen comes
forward gently._)
_Charles._ My dear Tiffany!--let me catch the sounds from your rosy
lips. (_Kisses her_)--
_Helen._ (_separating them_) Bless me! I am afraid I interrupt business
here!
_Charles._ I--I--I--Upon my soul, Madam--what you saw was--
_Tiffany._ Ye--ye--yes--upon my word, ma'am--what you saw was--
_Helen._ What I saw was very clear indeed!--
_Charles._ Hear me but explain--you do not understand.--
_Helen._ I rather think I _do_ understand.
_Tiffany._ Indeed, Ma'am, Mr. Charles was only _whispering_ something I
was to tell you--
_Helen._ And pray, ma'am, do you suffer gentlemen in general to whisper
in that fashion?--what do you stand stammering and blushing there
for?--why don't you go?
_Tiffany._ Yes, ma'am,--but I assure you--
_Helen._ What! you stay to be whispered to again, I suppose. [_Exit
Tiffany._
_Charles._ Let me explain this,--oh, Helen--can you be surprised?
_Helen._ No, sir, I can't be surprised at any thing after what I have
just witnessed--
_Charles._ On my soul, it was excess of joy at hearing you still lov'd
me, that led me into this confounded scrape.
_Helen._ Sir, you should not believe it--I don't love you. I wont love
you,--and after what I have just seen, you can't expect I should love
you--
_Charles._ Helen! Helen! you make no allowance for the fears of a man
who loves you to distraction. I have borne a great deal, and can bear
but very little more--
_Helen._ Poor man! you're sadly loaded with grievances, to be sure; and
by and by, I suppose, like a horse or a mule, or some such stubborn
animal, having more than you can bear, you'll kick a little, and plunge
a little, and then down on your _knees_ again!
_Charles._ I gloried even in that humble posture, while you taught me to
believe you loved me.
_Helen._ 'Tis true, my heart was once your own, but I never can, nor
ought to forgive you--for thinking me capable of being unfaithful to
you.
_Charles._ Dearest dear Helen! and has your anger then no other cause?
surely you could not blame a resentment which was the offspring of my
fond affection?
_Helen._ No! to be sure I couldn't, who could!--but what should I not
have to dread from the violence of your temper, if I consented--to run
away with you?
_Charles._ Run away with me!--no!--zounds I've a chaise in waiting--
_Helen._ Have you?--then pray let it wait,--no! no! Charles--though I
haven't scrupled to own an affection for you, I have too much respect
for the world's opinion,--let us wait with patience,--time may rectify
that impetuosity of character, which is now, I own, my dread; think of
it, Charles, and beware; for affection is a frail flower, reared by the
hand of gentleness, and perishes as surely by the shocks of violence as
by the more gradual poison of neglect.
_Charles._ Dearest Helen! I will cherish it in my heart--'tis a _rough_
soil I own, but 'tis a _warm_ one; and when the hand of delicacy shall
have cultivated this flower that is rooted there, the blossom shall be
everlasting love!
_Helen._ Ah you men!--you men! but--I think I may be induced to try
you.--Meantime, accept my hand, dear Charles, as a pledge of my heart,
and as the assurance that it shall one day be your own indeed (_he
kisses her hand._) There you needn't eat it--there!--now make your
escape, and farewell till we meet again.--(_They are going out
severally_)
_Enter_ sir Rowland _and_ sir Willoughby, _at opposite sides._
_Charles._ Zounds! my father!
_Helen._ Gad-a-mercy! my papa!
_Sir R._ So, sir! you are here again I find!
_Sir W._ So! so! Madam! together again, hey? sir Rowland, your servant.
_Sir R._ I need not tell you, sir Willoughby, that this undutiful boy's
conduct does not meet with my sanction.
_Char._ No! sir Willoughby--I am sorry to say my conduct seldom meets
with my father's sanction.
_Sir W._ Why look ye, sir Rowland, there are certain things that we _do_
like, and certain things that we do _not_ like--now sir, to cut the
matter short, I do like my daughter to marry, but I do not like either
your son or your nephew for her husband.
_Sir R._ This is a very sudden _change_, sir Willoughby--
_Sir W._ Yes, sir Rowland, I have made two or three sudden changes to
day!--I've changed my resolution--I feel changed myself--for I've
changed characters with my wife, and with your leave I mean to change my
son-in-law.
_Sir R._ Of course, sir, you will give me a proper explanation of the
last of these changes.
_Sir W._ Sir, if you'll meet me presently at your attorney's, the thing
will explain itself: this way, young lady if you please--Charles, I
believe you are a devilish honest fellow, and I want an honest fellow
for a son-in-law--but I think it is rather too much to give twelve
thousand a year for him--this way Miss Helen. [_Exit sir Willoughby and
Helen._
_Sir R._ This sudden resolution of sir Willoughby will still more
exasperate him--I must seek him instantly, for the crisis of my fate is
at hand; my own heart is witness against me--Heaven is my judge, and I
have deserved my punishment! [_Exit sir R._
_Char._ So! I'm much mistaken, or there'll be a glorious bustle
presently at the old lawyer's--He has sent to beg I'll attend, and as my
heart is a little at rest in this quarter, I'll e'en see what's going
forward in _that_--whether his intention be to _expose_ or to _abet_ a
villain, still I'll be one amongst them; for while I have a heart to
feel and a hand to act, I can never be an idle spectator when insulted
virtue raises her supplicating voice on one side, and persecution dares
to lift his unblushing head on the other. [_Exit._
SCENE II.--_O'Dedimus's Office._
_Enter_ O'Dedimus _and_ Ponder.
_O'Ded._ You've done the business, you say!
_Pon._ Ay, and the parties will all be here presently.
_O'Ded._ That's it! you're sure you haven't blabbed now?
_Pon._ Blabbed! ha, ha, ha! what do you take me for?
_O'Ded._ What do I take you for, Mr. Brass? Why I take you for one that
will never be choked by politeness.
_Pon._ Why, Lord, sir, what could a lawyer do without impudence? for
though they say "honesty's the best policy" a lawyer generally finds his
purpose better answered by a _Policy of Assurance_.
_O'Ded._ But hark! somebody's coming already, step where I told you, and
make haste.
_Pon._ On this occasion I lay by the lawyer and take up the Christian.
Benevolence runs fast--but law is lazy and moves slowly. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Falkner _as_ Abel Grouse.
_Abel Grouse._ I have obeyed your summons. What have you to say in
palliation of the injury you have done me?
_O'Ded._ Faith and I shall say a small matter about it. What I have done
I have performed, and what I have performed I shall justify.
_Ab. Gr._ Indeed! Can you justify fraud and villany? To business, sir;
wherefore am I summoned here?
_O'Ded._ That's it! Upon my conscience I'm too modest to tell you.
_Ab. Gr._ Nature and education have made you modest: you were born an
Irishman and bred in attorney--
_O'Ded._ And take my word for it, when Nature forms an Irishman, if she
makes some little blunder in the contrivance of his head, it is because
she bestows so much pains on the construction of his heart.
_Ab. Gr._ That may be partially true; but to hear _you_ profess
sentiments of feeling and justice reminds me of our advertising
money-lenders who, while they practise usury and extortion on the world,
assure them that "the strictest honor and liberality may be relied on;"
and now, sir once more, your business with me.
_O'Ded._ Sure, sir, I sent for you to ask one small bit of a favour.
_Ab. Gr._ From me!
_O'Ded._ Ay, from you; and the favour is, that before you honor me with
the appellation of scoundrel, villain, pettyfogger, and some other such
little genteel epithets, you will be pleased to examine my title to such
distinctions.
_Ab. Gr._ From you, however, I have no hopes. You have denied your
presence at the infamous and sacrilegious mockery of my daughter's
marriage.
_O'Ded._ That's a mistake, sir; I never did deny it.
_Ab. Gr._ Ha! you acknowledge it then!
_O'Ded._ That's another mistake, sir; for I never did acknowledge it.
_Ab. Gr._ Fortunately my hopes rest on a surer basis than your honesty.
Circumstances have placed in one of my hands the scales of Justice, and
the other her sword for punishment.
_O'Ded._ Faith, sir, though you may be a fit representative of the old
blind gentlewoman called Justice, she showed little discernment when she
pitched upon you, and overlooked Mr. Cornelius O'Dedimus, attorney at
law. And now, sir, be pleased to step into that room, and wait a moment,
while I transact a little business with one who is coming yonder.
_Ab. Gr._ I came hither to obey you; for I have some suspicion of your
intentions; and let us hope that one virtuous action, if you have
courage to perform it, will serve as a sponge to all the roguery you
have committed, either as an attorney or as a man. [_Exit to an inner
room._
_O'Ded._ That blunt little fellow has got a sharp tongue in his head.
He's an odd compound, just like a great big roasted potato, all crusty
and crabbed without, but mealy and soft-hearted within. He takes me to
be half a rogue and all the rest of me a scoundrel--Och, by St. Patrick!
I'll bother his brains presently.
_Enter_ sir Rowland, lord Austencourt, _and_ Charles.
_Lord A._ Further discussion, sir, is useless. If I am to be
disappointed in this marriage, a still more strict attention to my own
affairs is necessary.
_Sir R._ I appeal fearlessly to this man, who has betrayed me, whether
your interest was not my sole motive in the appropriation of your
property.
_Lord A._ That assertion, sir, I was prepared to hear, but will not
listen to.
_Sir R._ _Beware_, lord Austencourt, _beware_ how you _proceed_!
_Lord A._ Do you again threaten me? (_to O'Dedimus_) are my orders
obeyed? is every thing in readiness?
_O'Ded._ The officers are in waiting!
_Charles._ Hold, monster! Proceed at your peril. To me you shall answer
this atrocious conduct.
_Lord A._ To you!
_Charles._ Ay, sir, _to me_, if you have the courage of a man.
_Lord A._ I will no longer support these insults. Call in the officers.
_Enter_ sir Willoughby, lady Worret, _and_ Helen.
_Sir W._ Hey! zounds! did you take me and my lady Worret for sheriff's
officers, my lord?
_Lord A._ I have one condition to propose--if that lady accepts my hand,
I consent to stop the proceedings. That alone can alter my purpose.
_Charles._ Inhuman torturer!
_Helen._ Were my heart as free as air I never would consent to a union
with such a monster!
_Sir W._ And if _you_ would, curse me if _I_ would--nor my lady Worret
either.
_Sir R._ Let him fulful his purpose if he dare! I now see the black
corruptness of his heart; and though my life were at stake I would pay
the forfeit, rather than immolate innocence in the arms of such
depravity.
_Lord A._ Call in the officers, I say!
_O'Ded_ (_without moving._) I shall do that thing.
_Lord A._ 'Tis justice I demand! Justice and Revenge alike direct me,
and their united voice shall be obeyed.
_Falkner_ (_enters suddenly._) They shall! behold me here, thou
miscreant, to urge it! justice and revenge you call for, and they shall
both fall heavily upon you.
_Sir. R._ Falkner!
_O'Ded._ What! Abel Grouse, Mr. Falkner! here's a transmogrification for
you!
_Sir R._ How! Falkner and the unknown cottager the same person!
_Falk._ Ay, sir; the man who cautioned you today in vain; who warned you
of the precipice beneath your feet, and was unheeded by you--
_Sir R._ Amazement! what would you have me do?
_Falk._ Before this company assist me with the power you possess (and
that power is ample) to compel your haughty nephew to repair the injury,
which, in a humbler character, he has done me--
_Lord A._ He compel me! ridiculous!
_Falk._ (_to sir Rowland._) Insensible to injury and insult, can nothing
move you? _Reveal your secret!_
_Lord A._ I'll hear no more. Summon the officers I say. I am resolved.
_Sir R._ I too am at last resolved! at length the arm is raised that, in
descending must crush you.
_Lord A._ I despise your united threats! am I to be the sport of
insolence and fraud? _What_ am I, sir, that thus you dare insult me! Who
am I?
_Sir R._ No longer the man you seem to be! hear me! before grief and
shame shall burst my heart, hear me proclaim my guilt! When the late
lord Austencourt dying bequeathed his infant son to my charge, my own
child was of the same age! prompted by the demons of ambition, and
blinded to guilt by affection for my own offspring--_I changed the
children._
_Charles._ Merciful Heaven!
_Sir R._ (_to lord A._) Hence it follows that you, unnatural monster,
are my son!
_Sir W._ Ods life! Hey! then there is something in the world to astonish
me, besides the reformation of my lady Worret.
_Lord A._ Shallow artifice! Think you I am weak enough to credit this
preposterous fiction, or do you suppose the law will listen to it?
_Falk._ Ay, sir; the law _will_ listen to it, _shall_ listen to it. _I_,
sir, can prove the fact, beyond even the hesitation of incredulity!
_Lord A._ You!
_Falk._ I. You have seen me hitherto a poor man and oppressed me; you
see me now rich and powerful, and well prepared to punish your villany;
and thus, in every instance, may oppression recoil on the oppressor.
_Lord A._ Then I am indeed undone!
_O'Ded._ Shall I call the officers now, my lord? Mr. Austencourt, I
should say; I ask pardon for the blunder: and now, ladies and gentlemen,
be pleased to hear me speak. This extraordinary discovery is just
exactly what I _did not_ expect. It is true I had a bit of a discovery
of my own to make: for I find that the habits of my profession though
they haven't led me to commit acts of knavery, have too often induced me
to _wink_ at them. Therefore as his quandam lordship has now _certainly_
lost Miss Helen, I hope he'll have no objection to do justice in another
quarter. [_Exit._
_Sir R._ Oh, Charles! my much injured nephew! how shall I ever dare to
look upon you more?
_Charles._ Nay, nay, sir, I am too brimful of joy at my opening
prospects here (_taking Helen's hand_) to cherish any other feeling than
forgiveness and good humour. Here is my hand, sir, and with it I pledge
myself to oblivion of _all_ the past, except the acts of kindness I have
received from you.
_Sir W._ That's a noble generous young dog--My lady Worret, I wonder
whether he'll offer to marry Helen now?
_Lady W._ Of course, after what has passed, you'll think it decent to
refuse for a short time: but you are the best judge, sir Willoughby, and
your will shall in future be mine--
_Sir W._ Shall it--that's kind--then I _will_ refuse him to please you:
for when you're so reasonable, how can I do otherwise than oblige you.
_Lady W._ (_aside._) Leave me alone to manage him still.
_Enter_ O'Dedimus, _introducing_ Fanny.
_Lord A._ (_seeing Fanny._) Ah, traitor!
_O'Ded._ Traitor back again into your teeth, my master! and since you've
neither pity for the poor innocent, nor compassion for the little blunt
gentleman her father, 'tis time to spake out and to tell you that
instead of a sham priest and a sham license for your deceitful marriage
as you bid me, _I_ have sarved the cause of innocence and my own soul,
by procuring a _real_ priest and a _real_ license, and by St. Patrick
you are as much _one_ as any _two_ people in England, Ireland, or
Scotland!
_Fanny._ Merciful powers! there is still justice for the unfortunate!
_Lord A._ (_after a conflict of passion._) And is this really so?
_O'Ded._ You're _man_ and _wife_, sure enough. We've decent proof of
this, too, sir.
_Lord A._ You no doubt expect this intelligence will exasperate me. 'Tis
the reverse. By heaven it lifts a load of guilty wretchedness from my
heart.
_Fanny._ Oh, my lord! my husband!
_Falk._ Can this be genuine? Sudden reformation is ever doubtful.
_Lord A._ It is real! my errors have been the fruits of an unbridled
education. Ambition dazzled me, and wealth was my idol. I have acted
like a villain, and as my conduct has deserved no forgiveness, so will
my degradation be seen without compassion; but this weight of guilt
removed, I will seek happiness and virtue in the arms of my much-injured
Fanny.
_Fanny._ Silent joy is the most heartfelt. I cannot speak my happiness!
My father!
_Falk._ This is beyond my hopes; but adversity is a salutary monitor.
_Sir R._ Still, Charles, to you I am indebted beyond the power of
restitution.
_Char._ My dear father--no--no dear uncle, I mean, here is the reward I
look for.
_Helen._ Ah, Charles--my lord, I mean, I beg pardon--to be sure papa,
ay, and mamma-in-law too, will now no longer withhold their consent.
_Sir W._ Who, me? Not for the world--hey! mercy on us! I forgot your
ladyship (_aside_) do you wish me to decline the honor?
_Lady W._ (_aside._) Why no, as matters have turned out.
_Char._ Then Fortune has indeed smiled on me today!
_Falk._ The cloud of sorrow is passed, and may the sun of joy that now
illumines my face, diffuse its cheering rays on all around us.
_O'Ded._ And sir Willoughby and her ladyship will smile most of us all;
for every body knows they're the happiest man and wife among us.
_Helen._ And while amongst ourselves we anxious trace
The doubtful smile of joy in every face,
There _is_ a smile, which doubt and danger ends----
The smile of approbation from our friends.
THE END.
* * * * *
* * * *
Errors and Inconsistencies: Man and Wife
Spellings were changed only when there was an unambiguous error,
or the word occurred elsewhere with the expected spelling.
Where names in stage directions were inconsistently italicized, they
have been silently regularized. Some minor punctuation inconsistencies
have also been silently corrected.
_Unchanged:_
barbacued [barbecued]
befal [befall]
fulful [fulfil]
head ach [head ache]
vixin [vixen]
_Corrections:_
Lady Worret [twice spelt Worrett]
Abel Grouse's cottage [Grouses's]
The wrongs of Abel Grouse [Growse]
and no biscuit aboard [buiscuit]
as mine is the biggest, perhaps yours [bigest, perhaps your's]
However I do not despair [do no despair]
the attorney in our town [at-attorney: mis-hyphenated at end of line]
housekeeper [occurs with and without hyphenation]
Yes, sir, your presence does astonish me [you presence]
when it lost you, its dearest only friend [it's]
Hey! ods life, I must sooth her [odslife]
Ods life! I'm in a furious passion! [Odslife]
I must be in a passion--my--life--harkye, daughter [karkye]
harkye, young woman [karkye]
Heigho! with such an example before my eyes [Heighho]
heigho! she's a false, deceitful--dear, bewitching girl [heighho]
In Act III, Scene III is named Scene II in the original
_Apostrophes:_
In the original, apostrophes are used or omitted inconsistently in
several words: a'nt, cant, dont, had'nt, hav'nt, havn't, is'nt,
musn't, shant and would'nt. These have all been regularized.