No More Learning

A short letter to Sir William will do.

LOFTY. You shall have it; yet, in my opinion, a letter is a very bad
way of going to work; face to face, that's my way.

SIR WILL. The letter sir, will do quite as well.

LOFTY. Zounds, sir, do you pretend to direct me? direct me in the
business of office? Do you know me, sir? who am I?

MISS RICH. Dear Mr. Lofty, this request is not so much his as mine; if
my commands—but you despise my power.

LOFTY. Delicate creature! your commands could even control a debate at
midnight; to a power so constitutional, I am all obedience and
tranquility. He shall have a letter; where is my secretary? Dubardieu!
And yet, I protest, I don't like this way of doing business. I think if
I spoke first to Sir William—But you will have it so.

[_Exit with_ MISS RICH.

SIR WILLIAM _alone_.

SIR WILL. Ha, ha, ha! This too is one of my nephew's hopeful
associates. O vanity, thou constant deceiver, how do all thy efforts to
exalt, serve but to sink us! thy false colourings, like those employed
to heighten beauty, only seem to mend that bloom which they contribute
to destroy. I'm not displeased at this interview; exposing this
fellow's impudence to the contempt it deserves, may be of use to my
design; at least, if he can reflect, it will be of use to himself.

_Enter_ JARVIS.

SIR WILL. How now, Jarvis, where's your master my nephew?

JARVIS. At his wit's end, I believe; he's scarce gotten out of one
scrape, but he's running his head into another.

SIR WILL. How so?

JARVIS. The house has but just been cleared of the bailiffs, and now
he's again engaging tooth and nail in assisting old Croaker's son to
patch up a clandestine match with the young lady that passes in the
house for his sister.

SIR WILL. Ever busy to serve others.

JARVIS. Ay, any body but himself. The young couple, it seems, are just
setting out for Scotland, and he supplies them with money for the
journey.

SIR WILL. Money! how is he able to supply others, who has scarce any
for himself?

JARVIS. Why, there it is; he has no money, that's true; but then, as he
never said No to any request in his life, he has given them a bill
drawn by a friend of his upon a merchant in the city, which I am to get
changed; for you must know that I am to go with them to Scotland
myself.

SIR WILL. How!

JARVIS. It seems the young gentleman is obliged to take a different
road from his mistress, as he is to call upon an uncle of his that
lives out of the way, in order to prepare a place for their reception,
when they return; so they have borrowed me from my master, as the
properest person to attend the young lady down.

SIR WILL. To the land of matrimony! A pleasant journey, Jarvis.

JARVIS. Ay, but I'm only to have all the fatigues on't.

SIR WILL. Well, it may be shorter, and less fatiguing, than you
imagine. I know but too much of the young lady's family and connexions,
whom I have seen abroad, I have also discovered that Miss Richland is
not indifferent to my thoughtless nephew; and will endeavour, though I
fear in vain, to establish that connexion. But, come, the letter I wait
for must be almost finished; I'll let you further into my intentions in
the next room.

[_Exeunt. _

ACT IV.


SCENE. —CROAKER'S _House_.

LOFTY. Well, sure the devil's in me of late, for running my head in
such defiles, as nothing but a genius like my own could draw me from. I
was formerly contented to husband out my places and pensions with some
degree of frugality; but, curse it, of late I have given away the whole
Court Register in less time than they could print the title-page; yet,
hang it, why scruple a lie or two to come at a fine girl, when I every
day tell a thousand for nothing? Ha! Honeywood here before me. Could
Miss Richland have set him at liberty?

_Enter_ HONEYWOOD.

Mr. Honeywood, I'm glad to see you abroad again. I find my concurrence
was not necessary in your unfortunate affairs. I had put things in a
train to do your business; but it is not for me to say what I intended
doing.

HONEYW. It was unfortunate indeed, sir. But what adds to my uneasiness
is, that while you seem to be acquainted with my misfortune, I, myself
continue still a stranger to my benefactor.

LOFTY. How! not know the friend that served you?

HONEYW. Can't guess at the person.

LOFTY. Inquire.

HONEYW. I have, but all I can learn is, that he chooses to remain
concealed, and that all inquiry must be fruitless.

LOFTY. Must be fruitless?

HONEYW. Absolutely fruitless.

LOFTY. Sure of that?

HONEYW. Very sure.

LOFTY. Then I'll be damn'd if you shall ever know it from me.

HONEYW. How, sir!

LOFTY. I suppose now, Mr. Honeywood, you think my rent-roll very
considerable, and that I have vast sums of money to throw away; I know
you do. The world, to be sure says such things of me.

HONEYW. The world, by what I learn, is no stranger to your generosity.
But where does this tend?

LOFTY. To nothing; nothing in the world. The town, to be sure, when it
makes such a thing as me the subject of conversation, has asserted,
that I never yet patronised a man of merit.

HONEYW. I have heard instances to the contrary, even from yourself.

LOFTY. Yes, Honeywood, and there are instances to the contrary that you
shall never hear from myself.

HONEYW. Ha, dear sir, permit me to ask you but one question.

LOFTY. Sir, ask me no questions; I say, sir, ask me no questions; I'll
be damn'd if I answer them.

HONEYW. I will ask no further. My friend, my benefactor, it is, it must
be here, that I am indebted for freedom for honour. Yes, thou worthiest
of men, from the beginning I suspected it, but was afraid to return
thanks; which, if undeserved, might seem reproaches.

LOFTY. I protest I don't understand all this, Mr. Honeywood. You treat
me very cavalierly, I do assure you, sir. —Blood, sir, can't a man be
permitted to enjoy the luxury of his own feelings without all this
parade?

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.