A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 2

_Mrs. Coup_. Why, you must know I have done you the kindness to make up a match for your brother.

_Fash_. I am very much beholden to you, truly!

_Mrs. Coup_. You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the lady is a great heiress, the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lords.h.i.+p is come hither to put the finis.h.i.+ng hand to the business.

_Fash_. I understand as much.

_Mrs. Coup_. Now, you must know, stripling, your brother's a knave.

_Fash_. Good.

_Mrs. Coup_. He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this fortune, and has promised me as much more, in ready money, upon the day of the marriage; which, I understand by a friend, he never designs to pay me; and his just now refusing to pay me a part is a proof of it. If, therefore, you will be a generous young rogue, and secure me five thousand pounds, I'll help you to the lady.

_Fash_. And how the devil wilt thou do that?

_Mrs. Coup_. Without the devil's aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother's face not one of the family ever saw; the whole business has been managed by me, and all his letters go through my hands.

Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation--for that's the old gentleman's name--is apprised of his lords.h.i.+p's being down here, and expects him to-morrow to receive his daughter's hand; but the peer, I find, means to bait here a few days longer, to recover the fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to Muddymoat Hall in his place.--I'll give you a letter of introduction: and if you don't marry the girl before sunset, you deserve to be hanged before morning.

_Fash_. Agreed! agreed! and for thy reward-- _Mrs. Coup_. Well, well;--though I warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy pocket now--no--one may see it in thy face.

_Fash_. Not a sous, by Jupiter!

_Mrs. Coup_. Must I advance, then? Well, be at my lodgings, next door, this evening, and I'll see what may be done--we'll sign and seal, and when I have given thee some further instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be one.

[_Exit_.]

_Fash_. So, Lory, Fortune, thou seest, at last takes care of merit! we are in a fair way to be great people.

_Lory_. Ay, sir, if the devil don't step between the cup and the lip, as he used to do.

_Fash_. Why, faith, he has played me many a d.a.m.ned trick to spoil my fortune; and, egad, I am almost afraid he's at work about it again now; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me.

_Lory_. Indeed, sir, I should not.

_Fash_. How dost know?

_Lory_. Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can wonder at you no more.

_Fash_. No! what wouldst thou say, if a qualm of conscience should spoil my design?

_Lory_. I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever.

_Fash_. Why faith, Lory, though I have played many a roguish trick, this is so full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to come up to't--I have scruples.

_Lory_. They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they increase, sir, pray make your will.

_Fash_. No, my conscience shan't starve me neither: but thus far I'll listen to it. Before I execute this project, I'll try my brother to the bottom. If he has yet so much humanity about him as to a.s.sist me--though with a moderate aid--I'll drop my project at his feet, and show him how I can do for him much more than what I'd ask he'd do for me. This one conclusive trial of him I resolve to make.

Succeed or fail, still victory is my lot; If I subdue his heart,'tis well--if not, I will subdue my conscience to my plot.

[_Exeunt_.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.--LOVELESS'S _Lodgings_.

_Enter_ LOVELESS _and_ AMANDA.

_Love_. How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are satisfied.

_Aman_. I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, else I had not come to Scarborough at all.

_Love_. Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement doubled when we return to it.

_Aman_. That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much against my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which 'tis so much the fas.h.i.+on to be fond of.

_Love_. I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there are delights of which a private life is dest.i.tute, which may divert an honest man, and be a harmless entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly (with some small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another.

_Aman_. Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What do you think of that you saw last night?

_Love_. To say truth, I did not mind it much--my attention was for some time taken off to admire the workmans.h.i.+p of Nature in the face of a young lady who sat at some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome.

_Aman_. So exquisitely handsome!

_Love_. Why do you repeat my words, my dear?

_Aman_. Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their echo.

_Love_. Then you are alarmed, Amanda?

_Aman_. It is my duty to be so when you are in danger.

_Love_. You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love.

_Aman_. Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should have asked her where she lived--yet still without design--who was she, pray?

_Love_. Indeed I cannot tell.

_Aman_. You will not tell.

_Love_. Upon my honour, then, I did not ask.

_Aman_. Nor do you know what company was with her?

_Love_. I do not. But why are you so earnest?

_Aman_. I thought I had cause.

_Love_. But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, and let it be your story: should you come home and tell me you had seen a handsome man, should I grow jealous because you had eyes?

_Aman_. But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and that I had gazed on him with admiration, should you not think 'twere possible I might go one step further, and inquire his name?

_Love_. [_Aside_.] She has reason on her side; I have talked too much; but I must turn off another way.-- [_Aloud_.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between the language of our s.e.x and yours? There is a modesty restrains your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what we think.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires to know whether your ladys.h.i.+p sees company; her name is Berinthia.

_Aman_. Oh dear! 'tis a relation I have not seen these five years; pray her to walk in.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] Here's another beauty for you; she was, when I saw her last, reckoned extremely handsome.

_Love_. Don't be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too.

_Enter_ BERINTHIA.

Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [_Aside_.]

_Ber_. [_Salutes_ AMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet you in Scarborough.

_Aman_. Sweet cousin, I'm overjoyed to see you.--Mr.

Loveless, here's a relation and a friend of mine, I desire you'll be better acquainted with.

_Love_. [_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires a harder thing, madam, her request will be easily granted.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service to you, and desires to know how you do. He's at the next door; and, if it be not inconvenient to you, he'll come and wait upon you.

_Love_. Give my compliments to his lords.h.i.+p, and I shall be glad to see him.--[_Exit_ SERVANT.] If you are not acquainted with his lords.h.i.+p, madam, you will be entertained with his character.

_Aman_. Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man whom nature has made no fool be so very industrious to pa.s.s for an a.s.s.

_Love_. No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never bestow your pity upon those who take pains for your contempt: pity those whom nature abuses, never those who abuse nature.

_Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON.

_Lord Fop_. Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant.

_Love_. My lord, I'm yours.

_Lord Fop_. Madam, your ladys.h.i.+p's very obedient slave.

_Love_. My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife's.

_Lord Fop_. [_Salutes_ BERINTHIA.] The beautifullest race of people upon earth, rat me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed that you think of continuing here: I am, stap my vitals!-- [_To_ AMANDA.] For Gad's sake, madam, how has your ladys.h.i.+p been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country life?

_Aman_. My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has been a very quiet one.

_Lord Fop_. Why, that's the fatigue I speak of, madam; for 'tis impossible to be quiet without thinking: now thinking is to me the greatest fatigue in the world.

_Aman_. Does not your lords.h.i.+p love reading, then?

_Lord Fop_. Oh, pa.s.sionately, madam; but I never think of what I read. For example, madam, my life is a perpetual stream of pleasure, that glides through with such a variety of entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had the least conception of any of 'em. I rise, madam, when in town, about twelve o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because it is the worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend to be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to take the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my boots by two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge perhaps to the opera.

_Ber_. Your lords.h.i.+p, I suppose, is fond of music?

_Lord Fop_. Oh, pa.s.sionately, on Tuesdays and Sat.u.r.days; for then there is always the best company, and one is not expected to undergo the fatigue of listening.

_Aman_. Does your lords.h.i.+p think that the case at the opera?

_Lord Fop_. Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady t.i.tter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin--these have boxes in the front, and while any favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the waurld, stap my vitals!--Mayn't we hope for the honour to see you added to our society, madam?

_Aman_. Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world at a concert, I'm so apt to attend to the music.

_Lord Fop_. Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the country or at church, but a monstrous inattention in a polite a.s.sembly. But I am afraid I tire the company?

_Love_. Not at all. Pray go on.

_Lord Fop_. Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, that I generally conclude the evening at one or other of the clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have been for some time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting.

_Love_. But isn't your lords.h.i.+p sometimes obliged to attend the weighty affairs of the nation?

_Lord Fop_. Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to weighty heads; I never intend mine shall be a burden to my body.

_Ber._ Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state.

_Lord Fop_. An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than undergo any part of the fatigue, rat me, but the whole building should fall plump to the ground!

_Aman_. But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal of his time in his intrigues; you have given us no account of them yet.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside_.] So! she would inquire into my amours--that's jealousy, poor soul!--I see she's in love with me.--[_Aloud_.] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a secret I must need tell your ladys.h.i.+p.--Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.

_Love._ [_Leading_ BERINTHIA _up the stage_.] Not I, my lord; I am too fas.h.i.+onable a husband to pry into the secrets of my wife.