No More Learning

A prisoner in his own house! How! At this very time? I'm
quite unhappy for him.

LOFTY. Why, so am I. The man, to be sure, was immensely good-natured;
but then, I could never find that he had anything in him.

MRS. CROAKER. His manner, to be sure, was excessive harmless; some,
indeed, thought it a little dull. For my part I always concealed my
opinion.

LOFTY. It can't be concealed, madam: the man was dull, dull as the last
new comedy! A poor impracticable creature! I tried once or twice to
know if he was fit for business, but he had scarce talents to be
groom-porter to an orange barrow.

MRS. CROAKER. How differently does Miss Richland think of him! for, I
believe, with all his faults, she loves him.

LOFTY. Loves him! Does she? You should cure her of that, by all means.
Let me see: what if she were sent to him this instant, in his present
doleful situation? My life for it, that works her cure. Distress is a
perfect antidote to love. Suppose we join her in the next room? Miss
Richland is a fine girl, has a fine fortune, and must not be thrown
away. Upon my honour, madam, I have a regard for Miss Richland; and,
rather than she should be thrown away, I should think it no indignity
to marry her myself.

[_Exeunt. _

_Enter_ OLIVIA _and_ LEONTINE.

LEONT. And yet, trust me, Olivia, I had every reason to expect Miss
Richland's refusal, as I did everything in my power to deserve it. Her
indelicacy surprises me.

OLIVIA. Sure, Leontine, there's nothing so indelicate in being sensible
of your merit. If so, I fear I shall be the most guilty thing alive.

LEONT. But you mistake, my dear. The same attention I used to advance
my merit with you, I practised to lessen it with her. What more could I
do?

OLIVIA. Let us now rather consider what's to be done. We have both
dissembled too long. I have always been ashamed, I am now quite weary,
of it. Sure, I could never have undergone so much for any other but
you.

LEONT. And you shall find my gratitude equal to your kindest
compliance. Though our friends should totally forsake us, Olivia, we
can draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune.

OLIVIA. Then why should we defer our scheme of humble happiness, when
it is now in our power? I may be the favourite of your father, it is
true; but can it ever be thought, that his present kindness to a
supposed child, will continue to a known deceiver?

LEONT. I have many reasons to believe it will. As his attachments are
but few, they are lasting. His own marriage was a private one, as ours
may be. Besides, I have sounded him already at a distance, and find all
his answers exactly to our wish. Nay by an expression or two that
dropp'd from him, I am induced to think he knows of this affair.

OLIVIA. Indeed! But that would be a happiness too great to be expected.

LEONT. However it be, I'm certain you have power over him; and am
persuaded, if you informed him of our situation, that he would be
disposed to pardon it.

OLIVIA. You had equal expectations, Leontine, from your last scheme
with Miss Richland, which you find has succeeded most wretchedly.

LEONT. And that's the best reason for trying another.

OLIVIA. If it must be so, I submit.

LEONT. As we could wish, he comes this way. Now, my dearest Olivia, be
resolute. I'll just retire within hearing, to come in at a proper time,
either to share your danger, or confirm your victory.

[_Exit. _

_Enter_ CROAKER.

CROAKER. Yes, I must forgive her; and yet not too easily, neither. It
will be proper to keep up the decorums of resentment a little, if it be
only to impress her with an idea of my authority.

OLIVIA. How I tremble to approach him! —Might I presume, sir—If I
interrupt you—

CROAKER. No, child; where I have an affection, it is not a little thing
can interrupt me. Affection gets over little things.

OLIVIA. Sir, you're too kind. I'm sensible how ill I deserve this
partiality. Yet Heaven knows there is nothing I would not do to gain
it.

CROAKER. And you have but too well succeeded, you little hussy, you.
With those endearing ways of yours, on my conscience, I could be
brought to forgive any thing, unless it were a very great offence
indeed.

OLIVIA. But mine is such an offence—When you know my guilt—Yes, you
shall know it, though I feel the greatest pain in the confession.

CROAKER. Why then, if it be so very great a pain, you may spare
yourself the trouble, for I know every syllable of the matter before
you begin.

OLIVIA. Indeed! Then I'm undone.

CROAKER. Ay, miss, you wanted to steal a match, without letting me know
it, did you? But I'm not worth being consulted, I suppose, when there's
to be a marriage in my own family. No, I'm to have no hand in the
disposal of my own children. No, I'm nobody. I'm to be a mere article
of family lumber; a piece of crack'd china to be stuck up in a corner.

OLIVIA. Dear sir, nothing but the dread of your authority could induce
us to conceal it from you.

CROAKER. No, no, my consequence is no more; I'm as little minded as a
dead Russian in winter, just stuck up with a pipe in his mouth till
there comes a thaw—It goes to my heart to vex her.

OLIVIA. I was prepared, sir, for your anger, and despaired of pardon,
even while I presumed to ask it. But your severity shall never abate my
affection, as my punishment is but justice.

CROAKER. And yet you should not despair neither, Livy. We ought to hope
all for the best.

OLIVIA. And do you permit me to hope, sir? Can I ever expect to be
forgiven? But hope has too long deceived me.

CROAKER. Why then, child, it shan't deceive you now, for I forgive you
this very moment; I forgive you all; and now you are indeed my
daughter.

OLIVIA. O transport! This kindness overpowers me.

CROAKER. I was always against severity to our children. We have been
young and giddy ourselves, and we can't expect boys and girls to be old
before their time.

OLIVIA. What generosity! But can you forget the many falsehoods, the
dissimulation——

CROAKER. You did indeed dissemble, you urchin you; but where's the girl
that won't dissemble for a husband? My wife and I had never been
married, if we had not dissembled a little beforehand.

OLIVIA. It shall be my future care never to put such generosity to a
second trial. And as for the partner of my offence and folly, from his
native honour, and the just sense he has of his duty, I can answer for
him that——

_Enter_ LEONTINE.

LEONT. Permit him thus to answer for himself. (_Kneeling. _) Thus, sir,
let me speak my gratitude for this unmerited forgiveness. Yes, sir,
this even exceeds all your former tenderness: I now can boast the most
indulgent of fathers. The life he gave, compared to this, was but a
trifling blessing.

CROAKER. And, good sir, who sent for you, with that fine tragedy face,
and flourishing manner? I don't know what we have to do with your
gratitude upon this occasion.

LEONT. How, sir, is it possible to be silent when so much obliged?
Would you refuse me the pleasure of being grateful? Of adding my thanks
to my Olivia's? Of sharing in the transports that you have thus
occasioned?

CROAKER. Lord, sir, we can be happy enough, without your coming in to
make up the party. I don't know what's the matter with the boy all this
day; he has got into such a rhodomontade manner all the morning!

LEONT. But, sir, I that have so large a part in the benefit, is it not
my duty to show my joy? Is the being admitted to your favour so slight
an obligation? Is the happiness of marrying my Olivia so small a
blessing?

CROAKER. Marrying Olivia! marrying Olivia! marrying his own sister!
Sure the boy is out of his senses! His own sister!

LEONT. My sister!

OLIVIA. Sister! How have I been mistaken!

_Aside. _

LEONT. Some cursed mistake in all this, I find.

_Aside. _

CROAKER. What does the booby mean, or has he any meaning? Eh, what do
you mean, you blockhead you?

LEONT. Mean, sir—why, sir—only when my sister is to be married, that I
have the pleasure of marrying her, sir; that is, of giving her away,
sir—I have made a point of it.

CROAKER. O, is that all? Give her away. You have made a point of it.
Then you had as good make a point of first giving away yourself, as I'm
going to prepare the writings between you and Miss Richland this very
minute. What a fuss is here about nothing! Why, what's the matter now?
I thought I had made you at least as happy as you could wish.

[Illustration:

BAILIFF. —"_Look-ye, sir, I have arrested
as good men as you in my time. _"—_p. _ 290.
]


OLIVIA. Oh! yes, sir, very happy.

CROAKER. Do you foresee anything, child? You look as if you did. I
think if anything was to be foreseen, I have as sharp a look-out as
another: and yet I foresee nothing.

[_Exit. _

LEONTINE, OLIVIA.

OLIVIA. What can it mean?

LEONT. He knows something, and yet for my life I can't tell what.

OLIVIA.
It can't be the connexion between us, I'm pretty certain.

LEONT. Whatever it be, my dearest, I'm resolved to put it out of
Fortune's power to repeat our mortification. I'll haste, and prepare
for our journey to Scotland this very evening. My friend Honeywood has
promised me his advice and assistance. I'll go to him, and repose our
distresses on his friendly bosom: and I know so much of his honest
heart, that if he can't relieve our uneasinesses, he will at least
share them.

[_Exeunt. _

ACT III.


SCENE. —YOUNG HONEYWOOD'S _House_.

BAILIFF, HONEYWOOD, FOLLOWER.

BAILIFF. Look-ye, sir, I have arrested as good men as you in my time;
no disparagement of you neither. Men that would go forty guineas on a
game of cribbage. I challenge the town to show a man in more genteeler
practice than myself.

HONEYW. Without all question, Mr. ——. I forget your name, sir?

BAILIFF. How can you forget what you never knew? he, he, he!

HONEYW. May I beg leave to ask your name?

BAILIFF. Yes, you may.

HONEYW. Then, pray, sir, what is your name, sir?

BAILIFF. That I didn't promise to tell you; he, he, he! A joke breaks
no bones, as we say among us that practise the law.

HONEYW. You may have reason for keeping it a secret perhaps.

BAILIFF. The law does nothing without reason. I'm ashamed to tell my
name to no man, sir. If you can show cause, as why, upon a special
capus, that I should prove my name—But, come, Timothy Twitch is my
name. And, now you know my name, what have you to say to that?

HONEYW. Nothing in the world, good Mr. Twitch, but that I have a favour
to ask, that's all.

BAILIFF. Ay, favours are more easily asked than granted, as we say
among us that practise the law. I have taken an oath against granting
favours. Would you have me perjure myself?

HONEYW. But my request will come recommended in so strong a manner, as,
I believe, you'll have no scruple. (_Pulling out his purse. _) The thing
is only this: I believe I shall be able to discharge this trifle in two
or three days at farthest; but as I would not have the affair known for
the world, I have thought of keeping you, and your good friend here,
about me till the debt is discharged; for which I shall be properly
grateful.

BAILIFF. Oh! that's another maxum, and altogether within my oath. For
certain, if an honest man is to get anything by a thing, there's no
reason why all things should not be done in civility.

HONEYW. Doubtless, all trades must live, Mr. Twitch, and yours is a
necessary one. (_Gives him money. _)

BAILIFF. Oh! your honour; I hope your honour takes nothing amiss as I
does, as I does nothing but my duty in so doing. I'm sure no man can
say I ever give a gentleman, that was a gentleman, ill-usage. If I saw
that a gentleman was a gentleman, I have taken money not to see him for
ten weeks together.

HONEYW. Tenderness is a virtue, Mr. Twitch.

BAILIFF. Ay, sir, it's a perfect treasure. I love to see a gentleman
with a tender heart. I don't know, but I think I have a tender heart
myself. If all that I have lost by my heart was put together, it would
make a—but no matter for that.

HONEYW. Don't account it lost, Mr. Twitch. The ingratitude of the world
can never deprive us of the conscious happiness of having acted with
humanity ourselves.

BAILIFF. Humanity, sir, is a jewel. It's better than gold. I love
humanity. People may say that we, in our way, have no humanity; but
I'll show you my humanity this moment. There's my follower here, little
Flanigan, with a wife and four children, a guinea or two would be more
to him, than twice as much to another. Now, as I can't show him any
humanity myself, I must beg you'll do it for me.

HONEYW. I assure you, Mr. Twitch, yours is a most powerful
recommendation. (_Giving money to the_ FOLLOWER. )

BAILIFF. Sir, you're a gentleman. I see you know what to do with your
money. But, to business: we are to be with you here as your friends, I
suppose. But set in case company comes. —Little Flanigan here, to be
sure, has a good face; a very good face; but then, he is a little
seedy, as we say among us that practise the law. Not well in clothes.
Smoke the pocket-holes.

HONEYW. Well, that should be remedied without delay.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

SERVANT. Sir, Miss Richland is below.

HONEYW. How unlucky! Detain her a moment. We must improve, my good
friend, little Mr. Flanigan's appearance first. Here, let Mr. Flanigan
have a suit of my clothes—quick—the brown and silver—Do you hear?

SERVANT. That your honour gave away to the begging gentleman that makes
verses, because it was as good as new.

HONEYW. The white and gold then.

SERVANT. That, your honour, I made bold to sell because it was good for
nothing.

HONEYW. Well, the first that comes to hand then. The blue and gold. I
believe Mr. Flanigan will look best in blue.

[_Exit_ FLANIGAN.

BAILIFF. Rabbit me, but little Flanigan will look well in anything. Ah,
if your honour knew that bit of flesh as well as I do, you'd be
perfectly in love with him. There's not a prettier scout in the four
counties after a shy-cock than he. Scents like a hound; sticks like a
weasel. He was master of the ceremonies to the black queen of Morocco
when I took him to follow me. [_Re-enter_ FLANIGAN. ] Heh, ecod, I think
he looks so well, that I don't care if I have a suit from the same
place for myself.

HONEYW. Well, well, I hear the lady coming. Dear Mr. Twitch, I beg
you'll give your friend directions not to speak. As for yourself, I
know you will say nothing without being directed.

BAILIFF. Never you fear me, I'll show the lady that I have something to
say for myself as well as another. One man has one way of talking, and
another man has another, that's all the difference between them.

_Enter_ MISS RICHLAND _and her_ MAID.

MISS RICH. You'll be surprised, sir, with this visit. But you know I'm
yet to thank you for choosing my little library.

HONEYW. Thanks, madam, are unnecessary, as it was I that was obliged by
your commands. Chairs here. Two of my very good friends, Mr. Twitch,
and Mr. Flanigan. Pray, gentlemen, sit without ceremony.

MISS RICH. Who can these odd-looking men be? I fear it is as I was
informed. It must be so.

_Aside. _

BAILIFF (_after a pause_). Pretty weather, very pretty weather, for the
time of the year, madam.

FOLLOWER. Very good circuit weather in the country.

HONEYW. You officers are generally favourites among the ladies. My
friends, madam, have been upon very disagreeable duty, I assure you.
The fair should, in some measure, recompense the toils of the brave.

MISS RICH. Our officers do indeed deserve every favour. The gentlemen
are in the marine service, I presume, sir?

HONEYW. Why, madam, they do—occasionally serve in the Fleet, madam. A
dangerous service.

MISS RICH. I'm told so. And I own, it has often surprised me, that,
while we have had so many instances of bravery there, we have had so
few of wit at home to praise it.

HONEYW. I grant, madam, that our poets have not written as our soldiers
have fought; but, they have done all they could, and Hawke or Amherst
could do no more.

MISS RICH. I'm quite displeased when I see a fine subject spoiled by a
dull writer.

HONEYW. We should not be so severe against dull writers, madam. It is
ten to one, but the dullest writer exceeds the most rigid French critic
who presumes to despise him.

FOLLOWER. Damn the French, the parle vous, and all that belongs to
them.

MISS RICH. Sir!

HONEYW. Ha, ha, ha, honest Mr. Flanigan. A true English officer, madam;
he's not contented with beating the French, but he will scold them too.

MISS RICH. Yet, Mr. Honeywood, this does not convince me but that
severity in criticism is necessary. It was our first adopting the
severity of French taste, that has brought them in turn to taste us.

BAILIFF. Taste us! By the Lord, madam, they devour us. Give Monseers
but a taste, and I'll be damn'd, but they come in for a bellyful.

MISS RICH. Very extraordinary this.

FOLLOWER. But very true. What makes the bread rising? the parle vous
that devour us. What makes the mutton five pence a pound? the parle
vous that eat it up. What makes the beer threepence halfpenny a pot—

HONEYW. Ah! the vulgar rogues, all will be out. Right, gentlemen, very
right upon my word, and quite to the purpose.