La N. I pity you! I see you have no notion how a genius travels. Rent. He cannot fly, I suppose? La N. The current utensils of a fine gentleman; as necessary to his existence as current cash. It is a toilette à la chasse-in English, a Bond-street knapsack; it contains cold cream, rouge, courtplaster, lip-salve, eau de luce, Macassar oil, and otto of roses; and, among other knick-knacks, a quizzing-glass for the convenience of being short-broken-backed pigs, dismembered geese, and sighted. Rent. For what purpose? La N. The better to stare a modest woman out of countenance; avoid the sight of a poor friend one's ashamed to own; and an honest creditor one's afraid to see. Rent. Ha, ha, ha! To be sure that cargo does not exactly suit the family of the Homestalls. La N. Non! non! but you know I have travelled, and like many other travelled gentlemen, exported a cargo of home-brewed, for an importation of honey-water. But I expect my master here every riinute. Rent. What time did he leave London? La N. The chaise was ordered at one this morning. I must allow him an hour for yawning, picking his teeth, and d―g his journey; that will bring it to Rash. Upon my word, a pretty full allowance for such employments. La N. Nothing: I have known Lord Dang'e and his friend Billy Vapid in suspense, in St. James'sstreet, between a fruit-shop and a gambling-house, thrice the time, and the chaise-door open all the while. Rash. Well said, Mr. La Nippe! I see you are a satirist. La N. Shoot flying a little, now and then; and if our masters make us subservient to their follies, if we do no worse than laugh at them, they may think themselves very well off. Rent. But what time in the morning had you brought him to ? La N. Two o'clock. O, he dares not stay much longer, for he's made up for the journey. I doubt whether he could take himself to pieces; but if he could, I'm sure he could never put himself together again without my assistance: his whiskers fitted, his stays laced, his ancles rolled Rent. His ancles rolled! for what reason? La N. The preservation of a military leg. Rent. A military leg? we don't understand you. La N. I don't wonder at it. A thing of our town. A fashion we mean to start. The military leg will be all the go, and with reason, for it's a leg that's pretty sure to maintain its footing. Rent. I agree with you, and so must our foes; but how do you form it? La N. Why, sir, with six yards of flannel roller, to sweat the small, and prop the calf; and only an hour's attention every day (nothing for a gentleman to spare) to sit with his heels in the air, and keep the blood back, I will undertake to-Oh! I'll leave nature in the lurch at her best works, and produce a leg, with the muscles of an Hercules, and the ancle of an Apollo Belvidere. Rash. And is this the common practice? La N. Common! what do you think, but to hide the roller, makes the young fellows so fond of boots at all hours, except when on horseback, and then, nothing but a white trouser, neat silk stocking, and a pair of dancing pumps-But let me be gone. Rent. Nay, nay, you have time to spare; he must be many miles off; for it is a hundred and twenty from London. La N. Yes, and in a whirlwind, over orangebarrows, and oyster-stalls at every corner: you may trace his whole journey by yelping dogs, squalling old women; and, as sure as death, he will get home before me. (Going towards the park gate.) Rent. Never fear; you've time enough, I tell you: he stops short at the edge of the forest; his gamekeepers and pointers meet him there; he shoots home. La N. What signifies that; sportsmen of fashion shoot as fast as they travel. See him at a pigeonmatch, he wings his pigeon with the same dexterity as his companions pigeon him at the rookery in town. (Whistle without.) There's his whistle! (Looking out.) Voila le garçon! If he finds me loitering here, he'll vent more oaths in a minute, than have been heard in the forest since its foundation. Rent. Sir, you may slip into Mr. Rashly's house till he's gone by. La N. C'est bon; just the thing. [Exit. into the house. Rash. My brother here? Farewell, Rental. (Goes towards the house.) Rent. Stay, sir, it is impossible he can have a suspicion of you. Let us see if he tallies with this impudent fellow's account. Sift him boldly; I have a thousand thoughts for you. Rash. If he does answer the description, I shall never keep my temper. Rent. Perhaps so much the better; but he is alighting from his horse. Con. (Withou.) Search'em, take up the dogs; one night as well beat for game in Hyde-park. Enter CONTRAST, attended by Gamekeepers, &c., with a handsome gun in one hand, and a parasol in the other. The manors are parched to desolation, the saddles and gridirons, and the air is impregnated with scurf and freckle; in another half hour, I shall be a mulatto in spite of my parasol, by all that's sultry. But come, to business. (Gives the gun to an attendant.) Search 'em; make preparations immediately for seizing all guns, nets, and snares; let every dog in the village be collected for hanging to-morrow morning; draw a warrant for every one who draws a trigger; and let every violator of manors be sent to the house of correction. [Exeunt Servants into the park. Rash. I hope, young gentleman, you will be better advised than to proceed thus rashly. Con. And pray, friend, who may you be, that are so forward with your hopes? Rash. A tenant upon this estate these sixteen years; where I have been used to see harmony between high and low, established on the best basis-protection without pride, and respect without servility. Con. Odd language for a farmer! but in plain English it implies indulgence for arrears, and impunity for poaching. And you, sir, what may be your occupation? Rent. I have been long, sir, steward of Castle Manor, and your father's goodness continues me 50. I'm sorry, sir, you've had no sport, but your gamekeepers are strangers; if this gentleman had been with you, he knows every haunt in the country. Con. Oh! I don't doubt it. Is this gentleman qualified to carry a gun? Rash. I always thought so, sir. Con. Where is your qualification? Rash. In my birthright, as a freeborn man. Providence gave the birds of the air in common for us all; and I think it no crime to pursue them, when my heart tells me I am ready, if called upon, to exercise the same gun against the enemies of my king and country. Con. A period again! if it were not for his dress, I should take him for the president of a debating society. (Aside.) But to cut the dispute short, you Mr. Steward, and you, Mr. Monitor of the forest, take notice that I require unconditional submission in my supremacy of the game. Rent. In what manner, sir? Con. The county gaol shall teach transgressors. Thanks to my fellow sportsmen in the senate, we have as good a system of game-laws as can be found in the most gentlemanlike country on the continent. You look at me with surprise, old reformer of the groves. Rash. I confess I do, sir. In the days when I frequented the world, a high-bred spark and a sportsman were the greatest opposites in nature; the beau and the squire were always Con. O, I begin to take. Your days! the rusticated remains of a ruined reformer; a critic of the old school; a compound of musty classics and moral congruity; a smatterer of high life from the scenes of Cibber, which remain upon his imagination, as they do upon the stage, forty years after the real characters are dead. Thy ideas of a gentleman are as obsolete, old speculator, as the flaxen wig and "Stap my vitals!" Rash. May I presume, sir, to ask what is the character that has succeeded? Con. Look at me. Re-enter LA NIPPE from the house, running. Such an adventure! I have discovered such a girl! La N. Sir, sir, apart an instant, monsieur.such a shape! such Con. Bête! did you ever know me trouble myself about a girl in the country? La N. No, sir;-and in town I am obliged to take the trouble off your hands. (Aside. Takes Contrast aside, and seems eagerly to press him. Humour it, I beseech you, and ask Contrast in. Rash. Sir, will you accept any refreshment my Con. No, sir; I bear no malice, and I'll drink trouble of looking at his daughter, if it wasn't for your health in a bowl of cream. I'd not take the the hope of being revenged of this old crusty memento mori. (Aside.) [Exeunt Rashiy, Contrast, and Rental. La N. I must get him into this intrigue for my own sake with the maid, if not for his with the mistress. the force of example; so let our masters look to it. Like master, like man-all owing to [Exit into the house. Enter TRUMORE. Tru. How surely and involuntarily my feet bring me to this spot! Conscious scenes! Sophy! dost thou remember them with my constancy? Dost thou visit them with my sensibility? Is it impossible to get a glance of her at a distance? If I could but do it unperceived Re-enter PEGGY from the house. Peggy. So, sir, do you think I didn't spy you from the window, prowling like a fox about a hen-roost? But set your heart at rest; the pullet you are in search of will soon be upon a perch too high for (Turns round.) your reach. Rash. We were comparing, sirCon. Coxcombs. Never balk the word. The first thing in which we differ from your days is, that we glory in our title; and I am the acknowledged chief. In all walks of life, it is true ambition to be at the head of a class. Rash. And may I ask, sir, if the class over which you so eminently preside, is very numerous? Con. No, faith; and we diminish every day. The cockade predominates. The times have sent nine-tenths of our men of fashion to be their own soldiers. Rash. No, sir; to be the soldiers of their country. However political opposition may exist among us, only let a foe threaten our freedom, and the only opposition among Britons is, who shall get the first blow at him. Con. A red coat is very well for a promenade, and I do sometimes figure myself that way; though rot me, if I know any more of drill or discipline than I do of logic or metaphysics. Rash. Singular character! Con. Right, for once, Old Tramontane. Singularity is the secret of high life. In the present day it connects the pedestrian with the petit maître, the jockey with the gentleman, the stage coachman with the senator, and the pugilist with the peer. Tru. What do you mean? air. Tru. Well, what of that? Peggy. Well, then, if you had my second sight, you would see Sophy in a coach and six white horses driving in at the great gate. Tru. What would you lead my thoughts to? Peggy. Patience! reason! resignation! Sir John's son is paying his addresses within. Consult Sophy's interest, and your own, too, in the end, and resign her. Tru. Distraction! you cannot be in earnest. Would Sophia suffer a look from a stranger, without resenting it? Peggy. Time enough to repulse when strangers grow impertinent; meanwhile, why not be courted a little? There's curiosity in it, only to show how many ways the creatures can find to please us. Tru. These are your thoughts; but SophiaPeggy. Thinks like me, or she's not a woman. Lookye, I hate to be ill-natured; but don't fancy I'm your enemy because I'm her friend. Temptation is sometimes too agreeable to be withstood; nay, some of us love it. I don't say Miss Sophy's of the number. [Exit. Tru. Tormenting woman! I cannot, however, but be alarmed, and shall watch your steps closely, my young gentleman. Yes, my Sophia, I will hover round thee, like a watchful spirit, invisible, but anxious to prove thy truth, and if necessary, to defend it. Ah! when will come that happy day, when love, as in his Paphian bower, will crown us with his never-fading wreath of roses. AIR.(Written by the late Mr. Doyle.)—TRUMORE. Young love flew to the Paphian bower, The graces there were culling posies, O happy day! O joyous hour! SCENE II.-The Inside of the house. [Exit Enter CONTRAST, LA NIPPE, RASHLY, SOPHIA, ANNETTE, and RENTAL. Con. Bravo! miss; very well indeed. La Nippe, go on to the castle; announce me to my father. I'm immensely fatigued, and don't know how I shall be able to walk there; and one might as well ride on a currycomb as that saddle. (Horns without.) What horns are those? La N. (Looks out.) Your honour's master of the hounds, and your whole hunting equipage, are arrived. Con. Have they new liveries? La N. They have, and for elegance, they would shame every hunt in the universe: none of your rough buckskin and homespun, fit only to leap hedges and ditches in; but such as might grace a modern melo-drame, calculated for un grand coup de theâtre. Con. Let them draw up before the door; I'll see them as they pass. [Exit La Nippe.] One word at La N. What do you think of her eyes? Apart to parting, friend Rashly. Your daughters are not Contrast.) Con. Passable for a village. (Apart.) La N. Her complexion - her skin her delicacy? Con. O, perfectly delicate; she looks like the diet of her nursery, extract of leveret, and pheasant with egg. Rash. Girls, you may retire whenever you please. (As they are going off, enter Peggy, with a lute.) Sophia. Peggy, what are you doing? Peggy. It's only the lute, ma'am; it hung so loose upon the peg, I was afraid the kitten would pull it off. (Touches the string.) I declare it speaks itself, just as if it wanted Con. Music too! A syren complete. I am to be tempted with all the enchantments of Calypso's grot. (Aside.) A la bonne heure, try your skill, my dear. Sophia. Officious girl! carry it back. Con. O, by no means, miss; pray favour us with a song. Rash. Come, girls, don't be ashamed of an innocent and pleasing talent. Perhaps the warble of nature may please Mr. Contrast, from its novelty. Sophia. Indeed, sir, I wish to be excused. Ann. Dear sister, sing; my father wishes it. Sophia. I obey sir; and, in obeying, can discover to this intruder the state of my mind. (Apart to Rashly.) without attractions, nor you void of a certain sort of oddity that may be diverting; but your gun must be surrendered, and, from a pheasant to a rabbit, chasse defendue-no pardon for poaching; and so good day, old Æsop in the shades. [Exit, Rent. I must follow; but I request you'll take no steps till I see you again; give me but time to work in your favour. Rash. You are too sanguine; but I consent, upon condition that I do not see my father. Rent. As yet, it is no part of my plan that you should. [Exit. Rash. Your attempts will be in vain; deprived of my Anna, nothing remains for me but lasting misery. AIR.-(From Camoëns.)-RASHLY. Which I have shed for thee; And all the pangs, and doubts and fears, I never close my languid eye, SCENE III.-Outside of the house. [Exit. Enter CONTRAST, LA NIPPE, 'I untsmen, &c. from the house, in gay liveries, drawn up. La N. The huntsmen, sir, have been practising & new chorus song; will you hear it? Sophia. I confess, Annette, you are a very foryou ward scholar in affairs of the heart; but would really persuade me that the women of France scorn to be in love? Ann. Just the contrary. Love there is the passion of ages: one learns to lisp it in the cradle, and they will trifle with it at the brink of the grave; but it is always there the chirrup of life, not the moping malady it is here. Sophid. And, according to the notions of that fantastical people, how is the passion to be shewn? Ann. O, in a woman, by anything but confessing it. Sophia. Surely, Annette, you must now be wrong; insincerity and artifice may, for aught I know, be the vices of fine folks in courts and cities; but in the scenes where you, as well as myself, have been bred, I am persuaded the tongue and the heart go together in all countries alike. Ann. So they may, too: it would be wrong if the tongue told fibs of the heart; but what occasion for telling all the truth. I wish you saw a young girl in Provence, as she trips down the mountains with a basket of grapes upon her head, aud all her swains about her, with a glance at one, a nod at another, and a tap at the third, till up rises the moon, and up strikes the tabor and pipe-" Adieu, Her heart dances panniers, vendange est faite." faster than her feet, and she makes ten lads happy, instead of one, by each thinking himself the favourite. Sophia. But the real favourite is not to be kept in suspense for ever. Ann. No, no, she solves the mystery at last; but in a lively key just indicates the preference by a look that can't be misunderstood: and to make! more sure of her lover, mixes tendernes with tantalization. Sophia. Mere coquetry! I admire your vivacity, Annette, but I dislike your maxims. For my part, I scorn the shadow of deceit towards the man I love, and would sooner die than give him pain. Ann. So would I, too, dear sister; but why not bestow pleasures with a smile? Sophia. Giddy girl! you know not love. Ann. O, you are mistaken; I understand sentiment, and could act it to admiration; I could gaze at the moon, prattle to the evening breeze, and make a companion of roses for an hour together. Enter PEGGY. Peggy. And to what purpose, I should like to know? Roses are very well in a bough-pot, the evening breeze to raise one's spirits for a dance, and the moon to light one home, laughing, from the fair; but to scratch your hands with the thorns of the one, get the toothache by standing too long exposed to the other, and the blue devils by making you moan to the third, are all things quite out of my calculations of either comfort or common sense. Sophia. Ah! Peggy, you're a rattlepate, like my sister; but do not condemn that sentiment, your unconsciousness of which deprives you of the claim of judging. [Exeunt Sophia and Annette. Peggy. Sentiment, I dare say is very well in its way, like everything else. Perhaps, if I took it into my head, I could talk of rosy banks and myrtle Trubowers as well as anybody else. But poor more! he does love Sophia. Ah! if I had him here, I'd give him a little advice. And, as the other sex talk so much of the caprice of ours, as an apology for Sophia, I'd tell him In April the weather Oft changes, Sun and rain to each other give way: It strange is, Go, go, silly lover, complain; With your sex to be faithless the plan; We but follow your lesson, poor man ; Enter LA NIPPE, beckoning CONTRAST. La N. Yonder she is, sir; the other two have just left her, and she loiters by a rose-bush. Now's the time: at her, sir. Con. It's a d-d vulgar business you're drawing me into, La Nippe; I could never shew my face again, if it were known I was guilty of the drud | baseness of your nature, that insults a woman gery of getting a woman for myself. because she has no protection? La N. What do you mean, sir? Do you never make love? Con. No, certainly, you blockhead; modern epicures always buy it ready made. La N. Hold, she comes this way: I'd better vanish, and try my luck with the maid; but if I make no better market than I fancy he will, my French assurance will blush as much for vexation, as my English modesty does for shame. Re-enter SOPHIA. [Aside, and exit. Sophia. I did not recollect that these walks are no longer open to the neighbourhood. How simple were those girls not to remind me! If I should be seen, I may be thought impertinent: and alone, too Con. So, Miss Rashly, we meet as patly as if you had known my inclinations. Sophia. He too, of all others! (Aside, and confused.) I know it is an intrusion, sir, to be here; I was retiring. Con. It is the most lucky intrusion you ever made in your life. Sophia. Permit me, sir, to pass. (Confused.) Con. Not till you hear of your good fortune, my dear. You have attracted, in one moment, what hundreds of your sex have twinkled their eyes for whole years in vain, my notice. I will bring you into the world myself: your fortune's made. Sophia. Sir, this kind of conversation is new to me. I insist upon passing. (Confused and angrily.) Con. O fle, child! the first thing you must learn is, to look a man in the face, whatever he says to you; it is one of the first principles for high life; and high as the very pinnacle of fashion thine shall be. The newspaper shall record your routs; and you shall bear the belle in the ring at Hyde-park from every competitor. Four bloods, and a carriage as incomprehensible in its shape, or meaning, as vanity can wish for. Beauty! it is not worth that, (snaps his finger) in comparison with fashion. Sophia. Do you, sir, set so little value on cha racter? Con. Character! O, my dear, we never think of that in high life; that's a mere plebeian accomplishment. But come, child, it isn't my way to trifle, name your settlement, and Sophia. Sir, I have tried while I could to treat you with some degree of respect; you put it out of my power; resentment and contempt are the only Con. Clarissa Harlowe in her best attitudes! what circulating library has supplied you with language and action upon this occasion? Or has your antiquated father instructed you, as he has me, in the mode of his days? Things are reversed, my dear; when we fellows of superior class shew ourselves, the women throw themselves at us: pick and choose is the way; and happy is she we deign to catch in our arms. (Attempts to take hold of her.) Enter TRUMORE, unperceived. tleman. glish oak to put it into such hands. Tru. It would, indeed, be profanation of EnThou outside without a heart! When the mind is nerveless, the figure of a man may be cudgelled with a nettle. Sophia. For heaven's sake, Trumore, be not violent; you make me tremble; no further quarrel. Tru. Another word, sir, and no more. Could I suppose you a real sample of our fashionable youth, I should think my country indeed degraded; but it cannot be. Away! and tell your few fellows, if even few exist, that there's still spirit enough among common people to defend beauty and innocence; and when such as you dare affront them, it is not rank, nor even effeminacy that shall save them. (Retires with Sophia.) Con. Very sententious, truly! quite Rashly's flourish! In Italy now I could have this fellow put under ground for a sequin; in this d-d country one can do nothing but despise him. I could meet him to be sure; but as dueling is a principle of honour, reputation must be regarded. Boxing is the only way left; and fashion might sanction the thing; but, though it's very well to patronize, its a vile bore to practice; and I confess I have no ambition to make a hit that way. [Exit. moment, that brought me to your rescue! Tru. (Comes forward with Sophia.) Happy, happy Ah! my dear Sophia, should fate part us, can I ever forget thee? Ah! no, never! AIR. TRUMORE. Ah! can I e'er forget thee, love, When thy charms recollecting, Can time weaken love? |