No More Learning

O Lud you are going to be moral, and forget that you are
among Friends.

SURFACE. Egad, that's true--I'll keep that sentiment till I see Sir
Peter. However it is certainly a charity to rescue Maria from such a
Libertine who--if He is to be reclaim'd, can be so only by a Person of
your Ladyship's superior accomplishments and understanding.

VERJUICE. 'Twould be a Hazardous experiment.

SURFACE. But--Madam--let me caution you to place no more confidence in
our Friend Snake the Libeller--I have lately detected him in frequent
conference with old Rowland [Rowley] who was formerly my Father's
Steward and has never been a friend of mine.

LADY SNEERWELL. I'm not disappointed in Snake, I never suspected the
fellow to have virtue enough to be faithful even to his own Villany.

Enter MARIA

Maria my dear--how do you do--what's the matter?

MARIA. O here is that disagreeable lover of mine, Sir Benjamin Backbite,
has just call'd at my guardian's with his odious Uncle Crabtree--so I
slipt out and ran hither to avoid them.

LADY SNEERWELL. Is that all?

VERJUICE. Lady Sneerwell--I'll go and write the Letter I mention'd to
you.

SURFACE. If my Brother Charles had been of the Party, madam, perhaps you
would not have been so much alarmed.

LADY SNEERWELL. Nay now--you are severe for I dare swear the Truth
of the matter is Maria heard YOU were here--but my dear--what has Sir
Benjamin done that you should avoid him so----

MARIA. Oh He has done nothing--but his conversation is a perpetual Libel
on all his Acquaintance.

SURFACE. Aye and the worst of it is there is no advantage in not knowing
Them, for He'll abuse a stranger just as soon as his best Friend--and
Crabtree is as bad.

LADY SNEERWELL. Nay but we should make allowance[--]Sir Benjamin is a
wit and a poet.

MARIA. For my Part--I own madam--wit loses its respect with me, when I
see it in company with malice. --What do you think, Mr. Surface?

SURFACE. Certainly, Madam, to smile at the jest which plants a Thorn on
another's Breast is to become a principal in the mischief.

LADY SNEERWELL. Pshaw--there's no possibility of being witty without a
little [ill] nature--the malice of a good thing is the Barb that makes
it stick. --What's your opinion, Mr. Surface?

SURFACE. Certainly madam--that conversation where the Spirit of Raillery
is suppressed will ever appear tedious and insipid--

MARIA. Well I'll not debate how far Scandal may be allowable--but in a
man I am sure it is always contemtable. --We have Pride, envy, Rivalship,
and a Thousand motives to depreciate each other--but the male-slanderer
must have the cowardice of a woman before He can traduce one.

LADY SNEERWELL. I wish my Cousin Verjuice hadn't left us--she should
embrace you.

SURFACE. Ah! she's an old maid and is privileged of course.

Enter SERVANT

Madam Mrs. Candour is below and if your Ladyship's at leisure will leave
her carriage.

LADY SNEERWELL. Beg her to walk in. Now, Maria[,] however here is a
Character to your Taste, for tho' Mrs. Candour is a little talkative
everybody allows her to be the best-natured and best sort of woman.

MARIA. Yes with a very gross affectation of good Nature and
Benevolence--she does more mischief than the Direct malice of old
Crabtree.

SURFACE. Efaith 'tis very true Lady Sneerwell--Whenever I hear the
current running again the characters of my Friends, I never think them
in such Danger as when Candour undertakes their Defence.

LADY SNEERWELL. Hush here she is----

Enter MRS. CANDOUR

MRS. CANDOUR. My dear Lady Sneerwell how have you been this Century.
I have never seen you tho' I have heard of you very often. --Mr.
Surface--the World says scandalous things of you--but indeed it is
no matter what the world says, for I think one hears nothing else but
scandal.

SURFACE. Just so, indeed, Ma'am.

MRS. CANDOUR. Ah Maria Child--what[! ] is the whole affair off between
you and Charles? His extravagance; I presume--The Town talks of nothing
else----

MARIA. I am very sorry, Ma'am, the Town has so little to do.

MRS. CANDOUR. True, true, Child; but there's no stopping people's
Tongues. I own I was hurt to hear it--as I indeed was to learn from the
same quarter that your guardian, Sir Peter[,] and Lady Teazle have not
agreed lately so well as could be wish'd.

MARIA. 'Tis strangely impertinent for people to busy themselves so.

MRS. CANDOUR. Very true, Child; but what's to be done? People will
talk--there's no preventing it. --why it was but yesterday I was told
that Miss Gadabout had eloped with Sir Filagree Flirt. But, Lord! there
is no minding what one hears; tho' to be sure I had this from very good
authority.

MARIA. Such reports are highly scandalous.

MRS. CANDOUR. So they are Child--shameful! shameful! but the world is
so censorious no character escapes. Lord, now! who would have suspected
your friend, Miss Prim, of an indiscretion Yet such is the ill-nature
of people, that they say her unkle stopped her last week just as she was
stepping into a Postchaise with her Dancing-master.

MARIA. I'll answer for't there are no grounds for the Report.

MRS. CANDOUR. Oh, no foundation in the world I dare swear[;] no more
probably than for the story circulated last month, of Mrs. Festino's
affair with Colonel Cassino--tho' to be sure that matter was never
rightly clear'd up.

SURFACE. The license of invention some people take is monstrous indeed.

MARIA. 'Tis so but in my opinion, those who report such things are
equally culpable.

MRS. CANDOUR. To be sure they are[;] Tale Bearers are as bad as the Tale
makers--'tis an old observation and a very true one--but what's to be
done as I said before--how will you prevent People from talking--to-day,
Mrs. Clackitt assured me, Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon were at last become
mere man and wife--like [the rest of their] acquaintance--she likewise
hinted that a certain widow in the next street had got rid of her Dropsy
and recovered her shape in a most surprising manner--at the same [time]
Miss Tattle, who was by affirm'd, that Lord Boffalo had discover'd his
Lady at a house of no extraordinary Fame--and that Sir Harry Bouquet and
Tom Saunter were to measure swords on a similar Provocation. But--Lord!
do you think I would report these Things--No, no[! ] Tale Bearers as I
said before are just as bad as the talemakers.

SURFACE. Ah! Mrs. Candour, if everybody had your Forbearance and good
nature--

MRS. CANDOUR. I confess Mr. Surface I cannot bear to hear People
traduced behind their Backs[;] and when ugly circumstances come out
against our acquaintances I own I always love to think the best--by the
bye I hope 'tis not true that your Brother is absolutely ruin'd--

SURFACE. I am afraid his circumstances are very bad indeed, Ma'am--

MRS. CANDOUR. Ah! I heard so--but you must tell him to keep up his
Spirits--everybody almost is in the same way--Lord Spindle, Sir Thomas
Splint, Captain Quinze, and Mr. Nickit--all up, I hear, within this
week; so, if Charles is undone, He'll find half his Acquaintance ruin'd
too, and that, you know, is a consolation--

SURFACE. Doubtless, Ma'am--a very great one.

Enter SERVANT

SERVANT. Mr. Crabtree and Sir Benjamin Backbite.

LADY SNEERWELL. Soh! Maria, you see your lover pursues you--Positively
you shan't escape.

Enter CRABTREE and SIR BENJAMIN BACKBITE

CRABTREE. Lady Sneerwell, I kiss your hand. Mrs. Candour I don't believe
you are acquainted with my Nephew Sir Benjamin Backbite--Egad, Ma'am, He
has a pretty wit--and is a pretty Poet too isn't He Lady Sneerwell?

SIR BENJAMIN. O fie, Uncle!

CRABTREE. Nay egad it's true--I back him at a Rebus or a Charade against
the best Rhymer in the Kingdom--has your Ladyship heard the Epigram he
wrote last week on Lady Frizzle's Feather catching Fire--Do Benjamin
repeat it--or the Charade you made last Night extempore at Mrs.
Drowzie's conversazione--Come now your first is the Name of a Fish, your
second a great naval commander--and

SIR BENJAMIN. Dear Uncle--now--prithee----

CRABTREE. Efaith, Ma'am--'twould surprise you to hear how ready he is at
all these Things.

LADY SNEERWELL. I wonder Sir Benjamin you never publish anything.

SIR BENJAMIN. To say truth, Ma'am, 'tis very vulgar to Print and as my
little Productions are mostly Satires and Lampoons I find they
circulate more by giving copies in confidence to the Friends of the
Parties--however I have some love-Elegies, which, when favoured with
this lady's smile I mean to give to the Public.

[Pointing to MARIA. ]

CRABTREE. 'Fore Heaven, ma'am, they'll immortalize you--you'll be handed
down to Posterity, like Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa.

SIR BENJAMIN. Yes Madam I think you will like them--when you shall see
in a beautiful Quarto Page how a neat rivulet of Text shall meander
thro' a meadow of margin--'fore Gad, they will be the most elegant
Things of their kind--

CRABTREE. But Ladies, have you heard the news?

MRS. CANDOUR. What, Sir, do you mean the Report of----

CRABTREE. No ma'am that's not it. --Miss Nicely is going to be married to
her own Footman.

MRS. CANDOUR. Impossible!

CRABTREE. Ask Sir Benjamin.

SIR BENJAMIN. 'Tis very true, Ma'am--everything is fixed and the wedding
Livery bespoke.

CRABTREE. Yes and they say there were pressing reasons for't.

MRS. CANDOUR. It cannot be--and I wonder any one should believe such a
story of so prudent a Lady as Miss Nicely.

SIR BENJAMIN. O Lud! ma'am, that's the very reason 'twas believed at
once. She has always been so cautious and so reserved, that everybody
was sure there was some reason for it at bottom.

LADY SNEERWELL. Yes a Tale of Scandal is as fatal to the Reputation of
a prudent Lady of her stamp as a Fever is generally to those of the
strongest Constitutions, but there is a sort of puny sickly Reputation,
that is always ailing yet will outlive the robuster characters of a
hundred Prudes.

SIR BENJAMIN. True Madam there are Valetudinarians in Reputation as well
as constitution--who being conscious of their weak Part, avoid the
least breath of air, and supply their want of Stamina by care and
circumspection--

MRS. CANDOUR. Well but this may be all mistake--You know, Sir Benjamin
very trifling circumstances often give rise to the most injurious Tales.

CRABTREE. That they do I'll be sworn Ma'am--did you ever hear how
Miss Shepherd came to lose her Lover and her Character last summer at
Tunbridge--Sir Benjamin you remember it--

SIR BENJAMIN. O to be sure the most whimsical circumstance--

LADY SNEERWELL. How was it Pray--

CRABTREE. Why one evening at Mrs. Ponto's Assembly--the conversation
happened to turn on the difficulty of breeding Nova-Scotia Sheep in
this country--says a young Lady in company[, "]I have known instances
of it[--]for Miss Letitia Shepherd, a first cousin of mine, had a
Nova-Scotia Sheep that produced her Twins. ["--"]What! ["] cries the old
Dowager Lady Dundizzy (who you know is as deaf as a Post), ["]has Miss
Letitia Shepherd had twins["]--This Mistake--as you may imagine, threw
the whole company into a fit of Laughing--However 'twas the next morning
everywhere reported and in a few Days believed by the whole Town, that
Miss Letitia Shepherd had actually been brought to Bed of a fine Boy
and Girl--and in less than a week there were People who could name the
Father, and the Farm House where the Babies were put out to Nurse.

LADY SNEERWELL. Strange indeed!

CRABTREE. Matter of Fact, I assure you--O Lud! Mr. Surface pray is it
true that your uncle Sir Oliver is coming home--

SURFACE. Not that I know of indeed Sir.

CRABTREE. He has been in the East Indies a long time--you can scarcely
remember him--I believe--sad comfort on his arrival to hear how your
Brother has gone on!

SURFACE. Charles has been imprudent Sir to be sure[;] but I hope no Busy
people have already prejudiced Sir Oliver against him--He may reform--

SIR BENJAMIN. To be sure He may--for my Part I never believed him to be
so utterly void of Principle as People say--and tho' he has lost all his
Friends I am told nobody is better spoken of--by the Jews.

CRABTREE.
That's true egad nephew--if the Old Jewry was a Ward I believe
Charles would be an alderman--no man more popular there, 'fore Gad I
hear He pays as many annuities as the Irish Tontine and that whenever
He's sick they have Prayers for the recovery of his Health in the
synagogue--

SIR BENJAMIN. Yet no man lives in greater Splendour:--they tell me when
He entertains his Friends--He can sit down to dinner with a dozen of his
own Securities, have a score Tradesmen waiting in the Anti-Chamber, and
an officer behind every guest's Chair.

SURFACE. This may be entertainment to you Gentlemen but you pay very
little regard to the Feelings of a Brother.

MARIA. Their malice is intolerable--Lady Sneerwell I must wish you a
good morning--I'm not very well.

[Exit MARIA. ]

MRS. CANDOUR. O dear she chang'd colour very much!

LADY SNEERWELL. Do Mrs. Candour follow her--she may want assistance.

MRS. CANDOUR. That I will with all my soul ma'am. --Poor dear Girl--who
knows--what her situation may be!

[Exit MRS. CANDOUR. ]

LADY SNEERWELL. 'Twas nothing but that she could not bear to hear
Charles reflected on notwithstanding their difference.

SIR BENJAMIN. The young Lady's Penchant is obvious.

CRABTREE. But Benjamin--you mustn't give up the Pursuit for that--follow
her and put her into good humour--repeat her some of your verses--come,
I'll assist you--

SIR BENJAMIN. Mr. Surface I did not mean to hurt you--but depend on't
your Brother is utterly undone--

[Going. ]

CRABTREE. O Lud! aye--undone--as ever man was--can't raise a guinea.

SIR BENJAMIN. And everything sold--I'm told--that was movable--

[Going. ]

CRABTREE. I was at his house--not a thing left but some empty Bottles
that were overlooked and the Family Pictures, which I believe are framed
in the Wainscot.

[Going. ]

SIR BENJAMIN. And I'm very sorry to hear also some bad stories against
him.

[Going. ]

CRABTREE. O He has done many mean things--that's certain!

SIR BENJAMIN. But however as He is your Brother----

[Going. ]

CRABTREE. We'll tell you all another opportunity.

[Exeunt. ]

LADY SNEERWELL. Ha! ha! ha! 'tis very hard for them to leave a subject
they have not quite run down.

SURFACE. And I believe the Abuse was no more acceptable to your Ladyship
than Maria.

LADY SNEERWELL. I doubt her Affections are farther engaged than we
imagin'd but the Family are to be here this Evening so you may as
well dine where you are and we shall have an opportunity of observing
farther--in the meantime, I'll go and plot Mischief and you shall study
Sentiments.

[Exeunt. ]




SCENE II. --SIR PETER'S House

Enter SIR PETER

SIR PETER. When an old Bachelor takes a young Wife--what is He to
expect--'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest
of men--and I have been the most miserable Dog ever since that ever
committed wedlock. We tift a little going to church--and came to a
Quarrel before the Bells had done ringing--I was more than once nearly
chok'd with gall during the Honeymoon--and had lost all comfort in Life
before my Friends had done wishing me Joy--yet I chose with caution--a
girl bred wholly in the country--who never knew luxury beyond one silk
gown--nor dissipation above the annual Gala of a Race-Ball--Yet she now
plays her Part in all the extravagant Fopperies of the Fashion and the
Town, with as ready a Grace as if she had never seen a Bush nor a
grass Plot out of Grosvenor-Square! I am sneered at by my old
acquaintance--paragraphed--in the news Papers--She dissipates my
Fortune, and contradicts all my Humours--yet the worst of it is I doubt
I love her or I should never bear all this. However I'll never be weak
enough to own it.

Enter ROWLEY

ROWLEY. Sir Peter, your servant:--how is 't with you Sir--

SIR PETER. Very bad--Master Rowley--very bad[. ] I meet with nothing but
crosses and vexations--

ROWLEY. What can have happened to trouble you since yesterday?

SIR PETER. A good--question to a married man--

ROWLEY. Nay I'm sure your Lady Sir Peter can't be the cause of your
uneasiness.

SIR PETER. Why has anybody told you she was dead[? ]

ROWLEY. Come, come, Sir Peter, you love her, notwithstanding your
tempers do not exactly agree.

SIR PETER. But the Fault is entirely hers, Master Rowley--I am myself,
the sweetest temper'd man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so I
tell her a hundred Times a day--

ROWLEY. Indeed!

SIR PETER. Aye and what is very extraordinary in all our disputes she
is always in the wrong! But Lady Sneerwell, and the Set she meets at her
House, encourage the perverseness of her Disposition--then to complete
my vexations--Maria--my Ward--whom I ought to have the Power of a Father
over, is determined to turn Rebel too and absolutely refuses the man
whom I have long resolved on for her husband--meaning I suppose, to
bestow herself on his profligate Brother.

ROWLEY. You know Sir Peter I have always taken the Liberty to differ
with you on the subject of these two young Gentlemen--I only wish you
may not be deceived in your opinion of the elder. For Charles, my life
on't! He will retrieve his errors yet--their worthy Father, once my
honour'd master, was at his years nearly as wild a spark.

SIR PETER. You are wrong, Master Rowley--on their Father's Death you
know I acted as a kind of Guardian to them both--till their uncle Sir
Oliver's Eastern Bounty gave them an early independence. Of course no
person could have more opportunities of judging of their Hearts--and I
was never mistaken in my life. Joseph is indeed a model for the young
men of the Age--He is a man of Sentiment--and acts up to the Sentiments
he professes--but for the other[,] take my word for't [if] he had any
grain of Virtue by descent--he has dissipated it with the rest of his
inheritance. Ah! my old Friend, Sir Oliver will be deeply mortified when
he finds how Part of his Bounty has been misapplied.

ROWLEY. I am sorry to find you so violent against the young man because
this may be the most critical Period of his Fortune. I came hither with
news that will surprise you.

SIR PETER. What! let me hear--

ROWLEY. Sir Oliver is arrived and at this moment in Town.

SIR PETER. How! --you astonish me--I thought you did not expect him this
month! --

ROWLEY. I did not--but his Passage has been remarkably quick.

SIR PETER. Egad I shall rejoice to see my old Friend--'Tis sixteen years
since we met--We have had many a Day together--but does he still enjoin
us not to inform his Nephews of his Arrival?

ROWLEY. Most strictly--He means, before He makes it known to make some
trial of their Dispositions and we have already planned something for
the purpose.

SIR PETER. Ah there needs no art to discover their merits--however he
shall have his way--but pray does he know I am married!

ROWLEY. Yes and will soon wish you joy.

SIR PETER. You may tell him 'tis too late--ah Oliver will laugh at
me--we used to rail at matrimony together--but He has been steady to his
Text--well He must be at my house tho'--I'll instantly give orders for
his Reception--but Master Rowley--don't drop a word that Lady Teazle and
I ever disagree.

ROWLEY. By no means.

SIR PETER. For I should never be able to stand Noll's jokes; so I'd have
him think that we are a very happy couple.

ROWLEY. I understand you--but then you must be very careful not to
differ while He's in the House with you.

SIR PETER. Egad--and so we must--that's impossible. Ah! Master Rowley
when an old Batchelor marries a young wife--He deserves--no the crime
carries the Punishment along with it.

[Exeunt. ]

END OF THE FIRST ACT




ACT II




SCENE I. --SIR PETER and LADY TEAZLE

SIR PETER. Lady Teazle--Lady Teazle I'll not bear it.

LADY TEAZLE. Sir Peter--Sir Peter you--may scold or smile, according to
your Humour[,] but I ought to have my own way in everything, and what's
more I will too--what! tho' I was educated in the country I know very
well that women of Fashion in London are accountable to nobody after
they are married.

SIR PETER. Very well! ma'am very well! so a husband is to have no
influence, no authority?

LADY TEAZLE. Authority! no, to be sure--if you wanted authority over me,
you should have adopted me and not married me[:] I am sure you were old
enough.

SIR PETER. Old enough--aye there it is--well--well--Lady Teazle, tho'
my life may be made unhappy by your Temper--I'll not be ruined by your
extravagance--

LADY TEAZLE. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a
woman of Fashion ought to be.

SIR PETER. No no Madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such
unmeaning Luxury--'Slife to spend as much to furnish your Dressing Room
with Flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a
Greenhouse, and give a Fete Champetre at Christmas.

LADY TEAZLE. Lord! Sir Peter am I to blame because Flowers are dear in
cold weather? You should find fault with the Climate, and not with me.
For my Part I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round--and that
Roses grew under one's Feet!

SIR PETER. Oons! Madam--if you had been born to those Fopperies I
shouldn't wonder at your talking thus;--but you forget what your
situation was when I married you--

LADY TEAZLE. No, no, I don't--'twas a very disagreeable one or I should
never nave married you.

SIR PETER. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler
Style--the daughter of a plain country Squire. Recollect Lady Teazle
when I saw you first--sitting at your tambour in a pretty figured linen
gown--with a Bunch of Keys at your side, and your apartment hung round
with Fruits in worsted, of your own working--

LADY TEAZLE. O horrible! --horrible! --don't put me in mind of it!

SIR PETER. Yes, yes Madam and your daily occupation to inspect
the Dairy, superintend the Poultry, make extracts from the Family
Receipt-book, and comb your aunt Deborah's Lap Dog.

LADY TEAZLE. Abominable!

SIR PETER. Yes Madam--and what were your evening amusements? to draw
Patterns for Ruffles, which you hadn't the materials to make--play Pope
Joan with the Curate--to read a sermon to your Aunt--or be stuck down to
an old Spinet to strum your father to sleep after a Fox Chase.

LADY TEAZLE. Scandalous--Sir Peter not a word of it true--

SIR PETER. Yes, Madam--These were the recreations I took you from--and
now--no one more extravagantly in the Fashion--Every Fopery adopted--a
head-dress to o'er top Lady Pagoda with feathers pendant horizontal and
perpendicular--you forget[,] Lady Teazle--when a little wired gauze with
a few Beads made you a fly Cap not much bigger than a blew-bottle, and
your Hair was comb'd smooth over a Roll--

LADY TEAZLE. Shocking! horrible Roll! !

SIR PETER. But now--you must have your coach--Vis-a-vis, and three
powder'd Footmen before your Chair--and in the summer a pair of white
cobs to draw you to Kensington Gardens--no recollection when y ou were
content to ride double, behind the Butler, on a docked Coach-Horse?

LADY TEAZLE. Horrid! --I swear I never did.

SIR PETER. This, madam, was your situation--and what have I not done
for you? I have made you woman of Fashion of Fortune of Rank--in short I
have made you my wife.

LADY TEAZLE. Well then and there is but one thing more you can make me
to add to the obligation.

SIR PETER. What's that pray?

LADY TEAZLE. Your widow. --

SIR PETER. Thank you Madam--but don't flatter yourself for though your
ill-conduct may disturb my Peace it shall never break my Heart I promise
you--however I am equally obliged to you for the Hint.

LADY TEAZLE. Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so
disagreeable to me--and thwart me in every little elegant expense.

SIR PETER. 'Slife--Madam I pray, had you any of these elegant expenses
when you married me?

LADY TEAZLE. Lud Sir Peter would you have me be out of the Fashion?

SIR PETER. The Fashion indeed! --what had you to do with the Fashion
before you married me?

LADY TEAZLE. For my Part--I should think you would like to have your
wife thought a woman of Taste--

SIR PETER. Aye there again--Taste! Zounds Madam you had no Taste when
you married me--

LADY TEAZLE. That's very true indeed Sir Peter! after having married you
I should never pretend to Taste again I allow.

SIR PETER.