_A Room in the Crown._
[_Enter INKLE._]
_Inkle._ I know not what to think--I have given her distant hints of
parting; but still, so strong her confidence in my affection, she
prattles on without regarding me. Poor Yarico! I must not--cannot quit
her. When I would speak, her look, her mere simplicity disarms me; I dare
not wound such innocence. Simplicity is like a smiling babe, which, to
the ruffian that would murder it, stretching its little naked, helpless
arms, pleads, speechless, its own cause. And yet, Narcissa's family--
_Enter TRUDGE._
_Trudge._ There he is; like a beau bespeaking a coat--doubting which
colour to choose--Sir--
_Inkle._ What now?
_Trudge._ Nothing unexpected, sir:--I hope you won't be angry; but I am
come to give you joy, sir!
_Inkle._ Joy!----of what?
_Trudge._ A wife, sir! a white one.--I know it will vex you, but Miss
Narcissa means to make you happy, to-morrow morning.
_Inkle._ To-morrow!
_Trudge._ Yes, sir; and as I have been out of employ, in both my
capacities, lately, after I have dressed your hair, I may draw up the
marriage articles.
_Inkle._ Whence comes your intelligence, sir?
_Trudge._ Patty told me all that has passed in the Governor's family,
on the quay, sir. Women, you know, can never keep a secret. You'll be
introduced in form, with the whole island to witness it.
_Inkle._ So public, too!----Unlucky!
_Trudge._ There will be nothing but rejoicings, in compliment to the
wedding, she tells me; all noise and uproar! Married people like it,
they say.
_Inkle._ Strange! that I should be so blind to my interest, as to be
the only person this distresses.
_Trudge._ They are talking of nothing else but the match, it seems.
_Inkle._ Confusion! How can I, in honour, retract?
_Trudge._ And the bride's merits----
_Inkle._ True!--A fund of merits!--I would not--but from necessity--a
case so nice as this--I--would not wish to retract.
_Trudge._ Then they call her so handsome.
_Inkle._ Very true! so handsome! the whole world would laugh at me;
they'd call it folly to retract.
_Trudge._ And then they say so much of her fortune.
_Inkle._ O death! it would be _madness_ to retract. Surely, my
faculties have slept, and this long parting from my Narcissa has
blunted my sense of her accomplishments. 'Tis this alone makes me so
weak and wavering. I'll see her immediately. [_Going._]
_Trudge._ Stay, stay, sir; I am desired to tell you, the Governor won't
open his gates to us till to-morrow morning.
_Inkle._ Well, be it so; it will give me time, at all events, to put my
affairs in train.
_Trudge._ Yes; it's a short respite before execution; and if your
honour was to go and comfort poor Madam Yarico----
_Inkle._ Damnation! Scoundrel, how dare you offer your advice?--I dread
to think of her!
_Trudge._ I've done, sir, I've done--But I know I should blubber over
Wows all night, if I thought of parting with her in the morning.
_Inkle._ Insolence! begone, sir!
_Trudge._ Lord, sir, I only----
_Inkle._ Get down stairs, sir, directly.
_Trudge._ [_Going out._] Ah! you may well put your hand to your head;
and a bad head it must be, to forget that Madam Yarico prevented her
countrymen from peeling off the upper part of it. [_Aside._]
[_Exit._
_Inkle._ 'Sdeath, what am I about? How have I slumbered! Is it I?--I--who,
in London, laughed at the younkers of the town--and, when I saw their
chariots, with some fine, tempting girl, perked in the corner, come
shopping to the city, would cry--Ah!--there sits ruin--there flies the
Green-horn's money! then wondered with myself how men could trifle time
on women; or, indeed, think of any women without fortunes. And now,
forsooth, it rests with _me_ to turn romantic puppy, and give up all
for love.--Give up!--Oh, monstrous folly!--thirty thousand pounds!
TRUDGE. [_Peeping in at the door._]
_Trudge._ May I come in, sir?
_Inkle._ What does the booby want?
_Trudge._ Sir, your uncle wants to see _you_.
_Inkle._ Mr. Medium! show him up directly.
[_Exit TRUDGE._
He must not know of this. To-morrow! I wish this marriage were more
distant, that I might break it to her by degrees: she'd take my purpose
better, were it less suddenly delivered.
_Enter MEDIUM._
_Med._ Ah! here he is! Give me your hand, nephew! welcome, welcome to
Barbadoes, with all my heart.
_Inkle._ I am glad to meet you here, uncle!
_Med._ That you are, that you are, I'm sure. Lord! Lord! when we parted
last, how I wished we were in a room together, if it were but the black
hole! I have not been able to sleep o'nights for thinking of you. I've
laid awake, and fancied I saw you sleeping your last, with your head in
the lion's mouth, for a night-cap! and I've never seen a bear brought
over to dance about the street, but I thought you might be bobbing up
and down in its belly.
_Inkle._ I am very much obliged to you.
_Med._ Aye, aye, I am happy enough to find you safe and sound, I promise
you. But, you have a fine prospect before you now, young man. I am come
to take you with me to Sir Christopher, who is impatient to see you.
_Inkle._ To-morrow, I hear, he expects me.
_Med._ To-morrow! directly--this moment--in half a second.--I left him
standing on tip-toe, as he calls it, to embrace you; and he's standing
on tiptoe now in the great parlour, and there he'll stand till you come
to him.
_Inkle._ Is he so hasty?
_Med._ Hasty! he's all pepper--and wonders you are not with him, before
it's possible to get at him. Hasty, indeed! Why, he vows you shall have
his daughter this very night.
_Inkle._ What a situation!
_Med._ Why, it's hardly fair just after a voyage. But come, bustle,
bustle, he'll think you neglect him. He's rare and touchy, I can tell
you; and if he once takes it into his head that you show the least
slight to his daughter, it would knock up all your schemes in a minute.
_Inkle._ Confusion! If he should hear of Yarico! [_Aside._]
_Med._ But at present you are all and all with him; he has been telling
me his intentions these six weeks; you'll be a fine warm husband, I
promise you.
_Inkle._ This cursed connexion! [_Aside._]
_Med._ It is not for me, though, to tell you how to play your cards;
you are a prudent young man, and can make calculations in a wood.
_Inkle._ Fool! fool! fool! [_Aside._]
_Med._ Why, what the devil is the matter with you?
_Inkle._ It must be done effectually, or all is lost; mere parting
would not conceal it. [_Aside._]
_Med._ Ah! now he's got to his damn'd square root again, I suppose, and
Old Nick would not move him.--Why, nephew!
_Inkle._ The planter that I spoke with cannot be arrived--but time is
precious--the first I meet--common prudence now demands it. I'm fixed,
I'll part with her. [_Aside._]
[_Exit._
_Med._ Damn me, but he's mad! The woods have turned the poor boy's
brains; he's scalped, and gone crazy! Hoho! Inkle! Nephew! Gad, I'll
spoil your arithmetic, I warrant me.
[_Exit._