No More Learning

HONEYW. Nay, do not attempt to conceal an action that adds to your
honour. Your looks, your air, your manner, all confess it.

LOFTY. Confess it sir! Torture itself, sir, shall never bring me to
confess it. Mr. Honeywood, I have admitted you upon terms of
friendship. Don't let us fall out; make me happy, and let this be
buried in oblivion. You know I hate ostentation; you know I do. Come
come, Honeywood, you know I always loved to be a friend, and not a
patron. I beg this may make no kind of distance between us. Come, come,
you and I must be more familiar—indeed we must.

HONEYW. Heavens! Can I ever repay such friendship? Is there any way?
Thou best of men, can I ever return the obligation?

LOFTY. A bagatelle, a mere bagatelle. But I see your heart is labouring
to be grateful. You shall be grateful. It would be cruel to disappoint
you.

HONEYW. How! teach me the manner. Is there any way?

LOFTY. From this moment you're mine. Yes, my friend you shall know
it—I'm in love.

HONEYW. And can I assist you?

LOFTY. Nobody so well.

HONEYW. In what manner? I'm all impatience.

LOFTY. You shall make love for me.

HONEYW. And to whom shall I speak in your favour?

LOFTY. To a lady with whom you have great interest, I assure you—Miss
Richland.

HONEYW. Miss Richland!

LOFTY. Yes, Miss Richland. She has struck the blow up to the hilt in my
bosom, by Jupiter.

HONEYW. Heavens was ever anything more unfortunate? It is too much to
be endured.

LOFTY. Unfortunate indeed! and yet I can endure it, till you have
opened the affair to her for me. Between ourselves, I think she likes
me; I'm not apt to boast, but I think she does.

HONEYW. Indeed! but you know the person you apply to?

LOFTY. Yes, I know you are her friend, and mine: that's enough. To you,
therefore, I commit the success of my passion. I'll say no more, let
friendship do the rest. I have only to add, that if at any time my
little interest can be of service—but, hang it, I'll make no
promises—you know my interest is yours at any time. No apologies, my
friend; I'll not be answered; it shall be so.

[_Exit. _

HONEYW. Open, generous, unsuspecting man! He little thinks that I love
her too; and with such an ardent passion! —But then it was ever but a
vain and hopeless one; my torment, my persecution! What shall I do?
Love, friendship, a hopeless passion, a deserving friend! Love that has
been my tormentor; a friend, that has, perhaps, distressed himself to
serve me. It shall be so. Yes, I will discard the fondling hope from my
bosom, and exert all my influence in his favour. And yet to see her in
the possession of another! —Insupportable. But then to betray a
generous, trusting friend! —Worse, worse. Yes, I'm resolved. Let me but
be the instrument of their happiness, and then quit a country, where I
must for ever despair of finding my own.

[_Exit. _

[Illustration:

OLIVIA. —"_O, Jarvis, are you come at last? _"—_p. _ 302.
]


_Enter_ OLIVIA _and_ GARNET, _who carries a milliner's box_.

OLIVIA. Dear me, I wish this journey were over. No news of Jarvis yet?
I believe the old peevish creature delays purely to vex me.

GARNET. Why, to be sure, madam, I did hear him say, a little snubbing
before marriage would teach you to bear it the better afterwards.

OLIVIA. To be gone a full hour, though he had only to get a bill
changed in the city! How provoking!

GARNET. I'll lay my life Mr. Leontine, that had twice as much to do, is
setting off by this time from his inn, and here you are left behind.

OLIVIA. Well, let us be prepared for his coming, however. Are you sure
you have omitted nothing, Garnet?

GARNET. Not a stick, madam—all's here. Yet I wish you could take the
white and silver to be married in. It's the worst luck in the world, in
any thing but white. I knew one Bet Stubbs, of our town, that was
married in red, and, as sure as eggs is eggs, the bridegroom and she
had a miff before morning.

OLIVIA. No matter—I'm all impatience till we are out of the house.

GARNET. Bless me, madam, I had almost forgot the wedding ring! —The
sweet little thing—I don't think it would go on my little finger. And
what if I put in a gentleman's night-cap, in case of necessity, madam?
But here's Jarvis.

_Enter_ JARVIS.

OLIVIA. O, Jarvis, are you come at last? We have been ready this half
hour. Now let's be going—Let us fly!

JARVIS. Ay, to Jericho; for we shall have no going to Scotland this
bout, I fancy.

OLIVIA. How! What's the matter?

JARVIS. Money, money, is the matter, madam. We have got no money. What
the plague do you send me of your fool's errand for? My master's bill
upon the city is not worth a rush. Here it is; Mrs. Garnet may pin up
her hair with it.

OLIVIA. Undone! How could Honeywood serve us so! What shall we do?
Can't we go without it?

JARVIS. Go to Scotland without money! To Scotland without money! Lord,
how some people understand geography! We might as well set sail for
Patagonia upon a cork jacket.

OLIVIA. Such a disappointment! What a base insincere man was your
master, to serve us in this manner! Is this his good-nature?

JARVIS. Nay, don't talk ill of my master, madam: I won't bear to hear
any body talk ill of him but myself.

GARNET. Bless us! now I think on't, madam, you need not be under any
uneasiness: I saw Mr. Leontine receive forty guineas from his father
just before he set out, and he can't yet have left the inn. A short
letter will reach him there.

OLIVIA. Well remembered, Garnet; I'll write immediately. How's this?
Bless me, my hand trembles so I can't write a word. Do you write,
Garnet; and, upon second thought, it will be better from you.

GARNET. Truly, madam, I write and indite but poorly: I never was cute
at my larning. But I'll do what I can to please you. Let me see. All
out of my own head, I suppose?

OLIVIA. Whatever you please.

GARNET (_writing_). Muster Croaker—Twenty guineas, madam?

OLIVIA. Ay, twenty will do.

GARNET. At the bar of the Talbot till called for. Expedition—will be
blown up—All of a flame—Quick, dispatch—Cupid, the little God of Love—I
conclude it, madam, with Cupid; I love to see a love-letter end like
poetry.

OLIVIA. Well, well, what you please, anything. But how shall we send
it? I can trust none of the servants of this family.

GARNET. Odso, Madam, Mr. Honeywood's butler is in the next room; he's a
dear, sweet man; he'll do anything for me.

JARVIS. He! the dog, he'll certainly commit some blunder. He's drunk
and sober ten times a day.

OLIVIA. No matter. Fly, Garnet; any body we can trust will do. _Exit_
GARNET. Well, Jarvis, now we can have nothing more to interrupt us. You
may take up the things, and carry them on to the inn. Have you no
hands, Jarvis?

JARVIS. Soft and fair, young lady. You, that are going to be married,
think things can never be done too fast: but we that are old, and know
what we are about must elope methodically, madam.

OLIVIA. Well, sure, if my indiscretions were to be done over again—

JARVIS. My life for it you would do them ten times over.

OLIVIA. Why will you talk so? If you knew how unhappy they make me—

JARVIS. Very unhappy, no doubt: I was once just as unhappy when I was
going to be married myself. I'll tell you a story about that—

OLIVIA. A story!
when I'm all impatient to be away. Was there ever such
a dilatory creature? —

JARVIS. Well, madam, if we must march, why we will march; that's all.
Though, odds-bobs we have still forgot one thing we should never travel
without—a case of good razors, and a box of shaving-powder. But no
matter, I believe we shall be pretty well shaved by the way.

[_Going_

_Enter_ GARNET.

GARNET. Undone, undone, madam. Ah, Mr. Jarvis, you said right enough.
As sure as death, Mr. Honeywood's rogue of a drunken butler dropped the
letter before he went ten yards from the door. There's old Croaker has
just picked it up, and is this moment reading it to himself in the
hall.

OLIVIA. Unfortunate! we shall be discovered.

GARNET. No, madam, don't be uneasy, he can make neither head nor tail
of it. To be sure, he looks as if he was broke loose from Bedlam about
it, but he can't find what it means for all that. O Lud, he is coming
this way all in the horrors!

OLIVIA. Then let us leave the house this instant, for fear he should
ask farther questions. In the mean time, Garnet, do you write and send
off just such another.

[_Exeunt. _

_Enter_ CROAKER.

CROAKER. Death and destruction! Are all the horrors of air, fire, and
water, to be levelled only at me? Am I only to be singled out for
gunpowder-plots, combustibles and conflagration? Here it is—An
incendiary letter dropped at my door. 'To Muster Croaker, these, with
speed. ' Ay, ay, plain enough the direction: all in the genuine
incendiary spelling, and as cramp as the devil, 'With speed! ' O,
confound your speed. But let me read it once more. (_Reads_). 'Muster
Croakar as sone as yoew see this leve twenty gunnes at the bar of the
Talboot tell caled for or yowe and yower experetion will be al blown
up. ' Ah, but too plain. Blood and gunpowder in every line of it. Blown
up! murderous dog! All blown up! Heavens! what have I and my poor
family done, to be all blown up! (_Reads_). 'Our pockets are low, and
money we must have. ' Ay, there's the reason; they'll blow us up,
because they have got low pockets. (_Reads_). 'It is but a short time
you have to consider; for if it takes wind, the house will quickly be
all of a flame. ' Inhuman monsters! blow us up, and then burn us. The
earthquake at Lisbon was but a bonfire to it. (_Reads_). 'Make quick
dispatch, and so no more at present. But may cupid, the little God of
Love, go with you wherever you go. ' The little God of Love! Cupid, the
little God of Love go with me! Go you to the devil, you and your little
Cupid together; I'm so frightened, I scarce know whether I sit, stand,
or go. Perhaps this moment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing
brimstone, and barrels of gunpowder. They are preparing to blow me up
into the clouds. Murder! We shall be all burnt in our beds; we shall be
all burnt in our beds.

_Enter_ MISS RICHLAND

MISS RICH. Lord, sir, what's the matter?

CROAKER. Murder's the matter. We shall be all blown up in our beds
before morning.

MISS RICH. I hope not, sir.

CROAKER. What signifies what you hope, madam, when I have a certificate
of it here in my hand? Will nothing alarm my family? Sleeping and
eating, sleeping and eating, is the only work from morning till night
in my house. My insensible crew could sleep, though rocked by an
earthquake; and fry beef-steaks at a volcano.

MISS RICH. But, sir, you have alarmed them so often already, we have
nothing but earthquakes, famines, plagues, and mad dogs, from year's
end to years' end. You remember, sir, it is not above a month ago you
assured us of a conspiracy among the bakers, to poison us in our bread;
and so kept the whole family a week upon potatoes.

CROAKER. And potatoes were too good for them. But why do I stand
talking here with a girl, when I should be facing the enemy without?
Here, John, Nicodemus, search the house. Look into the cellars, to see
if there be any combustibles below; and above, in the apartments, that
no matches be thrown in at the windows. Let all the fires be put out,
and let the engine be drawn out in the yard, to play upon the house in
case of necessity.

[_Exit. _

MISS RICHLAND _alone_.

MISS RICH. What can he mean by all this? Yet, why should I inquire,
when he alarms us in this manner almost every day? But Honeywood has
desired an interview with me in private. What can he mean? or, rather,
what means this palpitation at his approach? It is the first time he
ever showed anything in his conduct that seemed particular. Sure he
cannot mean to——but he's here.

_Enter_ HONEYWOOD.

HONEYW. I presumed to solicit this interview, madam, before I left
town, to be permitted—

MISS RICH. Indeed! Leaving town, sir? —

HONEYW. Yes, madam; perhaps the kingdom. I have presumed, I say, to
desire the favour of this interview—in order to disclose something
which our long friendship prompts. And yet my fears—

[Illustration:

CROAKER. —"_It's your supreme pleasure
to give me no better consolation? _"—_p. _ 307.
]


MISS RICH. His fears! what are his fears to mine? _Aside. _—We have
indeed been long acquainted, sir; very long. If I remember, our first
meeting was at the French ambassador's. —Do you recollect how you were
pleased to rally me upon my complexion there?

HONEYW. Perfectly, madam; I presumed to reprove you for painting: but
your warmer blushes soon convinced the company that the colouring was
all from nature.

MISS RICH. And yet you only meant it, in your good-natured way, to make
me pay a compliment to myself. In the same manner you danced the same
night with the most awkward woman in company, because you saw nobody
else would take her out.

HONEYW. Yes; and was rewarded the next night, by dancing with the
finest woman in company, whom every body wished to take out.

MISS RICH. Well, sir, if you thought so then, I fear your judgment has
since corrected the errors of a first impression. We generally show to
most advantage at first. Our sex are like poor tradesmen, that put all
their best goods to be seen at the windows.

HONEYW. The first impression, madam, did, indeed, deceive me. I
expected to find a woman with all the faults of conscious flattered
beauty. I expected to find her vain and insolent. But every day has
since taught me that it is possible to possess sense without pride, and
beauty without affectation.

MISS RICH. This, sir, is a style very unusual with Mr. Honeywood; and I
should be glad to know why he thus attempts to increase that vanity,
which his own lesson hath taught me to despise.

HONEYW. I ask pardon, madam, Yet, from our long friendship, I presumed
I might have some right to offer, without offence, what you may refuse
without offending.

MISS RICH. Sir! I beg you'd reflect; though, I fear, I shall scarce
have any power to refuse a request of yours; yet, you may be
precipitate: consider, sir.

HONEYW. I own my rashness; but, as I plead the cause of friendship, of
one who loves—Don't be alarmed, madam—Who loves you with the most
ardent passion; whose whole happiness is placed in you—

MISS RICH. I fear, sir, I shall never find whom you mean, by this
description of him.

HONEYW. Ah, madam, it but too plainly points him out; though he should
be too humble himself to urge his pretensions, or you too modest to
understand them.

MISS RICH. Well; it would be affectation any longer to pretend
ignorance; and, I will own, sir, I have long been prejudiced in his
favour. It was but natural to wish to make his heart mine, as he seemed
himself ignorant of its value.

HONEYW. I see she always loved him (_aside_). I find, madam, you're
already sensible of his worth, his passion. How happy is my friend, to
be the favourite of one with such sense to distinguish merit, and such
beauty to reward it!

MISS RICH. Your friend, sir! What friend?

HONEYW. My best friend—my friend Mr. Lofty, madam.

MISS RICH. He, sir!

HONEYW. Yes, he, madam. He is, indeed, what your warmest wishes might
have formed him. And to his other qualities, he adds that of the most
passionate regard for you.

MISS RICH. Amazement! —No more of this, I beg you, sir.

HONEYW. I see your confusion, madam, and know how to interpret it. And
since I so plainly read the language of your heart, shall I make my
friend happy, by communicating your sentiments?

MISS RICH. By no means.

HONEYW. Excuse me; I must—I know you desire it.

MISS RICH. Mr. Honeywood, let me tell you, that you wrong my sentiments
and yourself. When I first applied to your friendship, I expected
advice and assistance; but now, sir, I see that it is vain to expect
happiness from him who has been so bad an economist of his own; and
that I must disclaim his friendship who ceases to be a friend to
himself.

[_Exit. _

HONEYW. How is this? she has confessed she loved him, and yet she
seemed to part in displeasure. Can I have done anything to reproach
myself with? No, I believe not; yet, after all, these things should not
be done by a third person; I should have spared her confusion. My
friendship carried me a little too far.

_Enter_ CROAKER, _with the letter in his hand, and_ MRS. CROAKER.

MRS. CROAKER. Ha, ha, ha! And so my dear, it's your supreme wish that I
should be quite wretched upon this occasion? Ha, ha!

CROAKER (_mimicking_). Ha, ha, ha! and so, my dear, it's your supreme
pleasure to give me no better consolation?

MRS. CROAKER. Positively, my dear, what is this incendiary stuff and
trumpery to me? Our house may travel through the air like the house of
Loretto, for aught I care, if I'm to be miserable in it.

CROAKER. Would to heaven it were converted into a house of correction
for your benefit! Have we not everything to alarm us? Perhaps, this
very moment the tragedy is beginning.

MRS. CROAKER.