No More Learning

CROAKER. (_reading. _) "Dear Nick,—An English gentleman, of large
fortune, has for some time made private, though honourable, proposals
to your daughter Olivia. They love each other tenderly, and I find she
has consented, without letting any of the family know, to crown his
addresses. As such good offers don't come every day, your own good
sense, his large fortune, and family considerations, will induce you to
forgive her. —Yours ever, Rachel Croaker. " My daughter Olivia privately
contracted to a man of large fortune! This is good news indeed. My
heart never foretold me of this. And yet, how slily the little baggage
has carried it since she came home! Not a word on't to the old ones,
for the world! Yet I thought I saw something she wanted to conceal.

MRS. CROAKER. Well, if they have concealed their amour, they shan't
conceal their wedding; that shall be public, I'm resolved.

CROAKER. I tell thee, woman, the wedding is the most foolish part of
the ceremony. I can never get this woman to think of the more serious
part of the nuptial engagement.

MRS. CROAKER. What, would you have me think of their funeral? But come,
tell me, my dear, don't you owe more to me than you care to confess?
Would you have ever been known to Mr. Lofty, who has undertaken Miss
Richland's claim at the Treasury, but for me? Who was it first made him
an acquaintance at Lady Shabbaroon's rout? Who got him to promise us
his interest? Is not he a back-stairs favourite, one that can do what
he pleases with those that do what they please? Isn't he an
acquaintance that all your groaning and lamentations could never have
got us?

CROAKER. He is a man of importance, I grant you; and yet, what amazes
me is, that while he is giving away places to all the world, he can't
get one for himself.

MRS. CROAKER. That perhaps may be owing to his nicety. Great men are
not easily satisfied.

_Enter_ FRENCH SERVANT.

SERVANT. An expresse from Monsieur Lofty. He vil be vait upon your
honours instamment. He be only giving four five instruction, read two
tree memorial, call upon von ambassadeur. He vil be vid you in one tree
minutes.

MRS. CROAKER. You see now, my dear, what an extensive department. Well,
friend, let your master know, that we are extremely honoured by this
honour. Was there any thing ever in a higher style of breeding? All
messages among the great are now done by express.

CROAKER. To be sure, no man does little things with more solemnity, or
claims more respect, than he. But he's in the right on't. In our bad
world, respect is given where respect is claimed.

MRS. CROAKER. Never mind the world, my dear; you were never in a
pleasanter place in your life. Let us now think of receiving him with
proper respect: (_a loud rapping at the door_) and there he is, by the
thundering rap.

CROAKER. Ay, verily, there he is; as close upon the heels of his own
express, as an endorsement upon the back of a bill. Well, I'll leave
you to receive him, whilst I go to chide my little Olivia for intending
to steal a marriage without mine or her aunt's consent. I must seem to
be angry, or she too may begin to despise my authority.

[_Exit. _

_Enter_ LOFTY, _speaking to his_ SERVANT.

LOFTY. And if the Venetian ambassador, or that teazing creature the
marquis, should call, I'm not at home. Dam'me, I'll be packhorse to
none of them. My dear madam, I have just snatched a moment—and if the
expresses to his grace be ready, let them be sent off; they're of
importance. Madam, I ask a thousand pardons.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour—

LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the person calls about the commission, let
him know that it is made out. As for Lord Cumbercourt's stale request;
it can keep cold: you understand me. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, this honour—

LOFTY. And, Dubardieu, if the man comes from the Cornish borough, you
must do him; you must do him, I say. Madam, I ask ten thousand pardons.
And if the Russian ambassador calls; but he will scarce call to-day, I
believe. And now, madam, I have just got time to express my happiness
in having the honour of being permitted to profess myself your most
obedient humble servant.

MRS. CROAKER. Sir, the happiness and honour are all mine: and yet I'm
only robbing the public while I detain you.

LOFTY. Sink the public, madam, when the fair are to be attended. Ah,
could all my hours be so charmingly devoted! Sincerely, don't you pity
us poor creatures in affairs? Thus it is eternally; solicited for
places here, teazed for pensions there, and courted everywhere. I know
you pity me. Yes, I see you do.

MRS. CROAKER. Excuse me, sir; "Toils of empires pleasures are," as
Waller says.

LOFTY. Waller, Waller; is he of the house?

MRS. CROAKER. The modern poet of that name, sir.

LOFTY. Oh, a modern! We men of business despise the moderns; and as for
the ancients, we have no time to read them. Poetry is a pretty thing
enough for our wives and daughters; but not for us. Why now, here I
stand that know nothing of books; I say, madam, I know nothing of
books; and yet, I believe, upon a land carriage fishery, a stamp act,
or a jaghire, I can talk my two hours without feeling the want of them.

MRS. CROAKER. The world is no stranger to Mr. Lofty's eminence in every
capacity.

LOFTY. I vow to gad, madam, you make me blush. I'm nothing, nothing,
nothing, in the world; a mere obscure gentleman. To be sure, indeed,
one or two of the present ministers are pleased to represent me as a
formidable man. I know they are pleased to bespatter me at all their
little dirty levees. Yet, upon my soul, I wonder what they see in me to
treat me so. Measures, not men, have always been my mark; and I vow, by
all that's honourable, my resentment has never done the men, as mere
men, any manner of harm—that is, as mere men.

MRS. CROAKER. What importance, and yet what modesty!

LOFTY. Oh, if you talk of modesty, madam; there, I own, I'm accessible
to praise: modesty is my foible: it was so, the Duke of Brentford used
to say of me. I love Jack Lofty, he used to say: no man has a finer
knowledge of things; quite a man of information; and when he speaks
upon his legs, by the Lord he's prodigious; he scouts them: and yet all
men have their faults; too much modesty is his, says his grace.

MRS. CROAKER. And yet, I dare say, you don't want assurance when you
come to solicit for your friends.

LOFTY. O, there indeed I'm in bronze. Apropos, I have just been
mentioning Miss Richland's case to a certain personage; we must name no
names. When I ask, I am not to be put off, madam. No, no, I take my
friend by the button. "A fine girl, sir; great justice in her case. A
friend of mine. Borough interest. Business must be done, Mr. Secretary.
I say, Mr. Secretary, her business must be done, sir. " That's my way,
madam.

MRS. CROAKER. Bless me! you said all this to the secretary of state,
did you?

LOFTY. I did not say the secretary, did I? Well, curse it, since you
have found me out I will not deny it. It was to the secretary.

MRS. CROAKER. This was going to the fountain head at once; not applying
to the understrappers, as Mr. Honeywood would have had us.

LOFTY. Honeywood! he-he! He was, indeed, a fine solicitor. I suppose
you have heard what has just happened to him?

MRS. CROAKER. Poor dear man! No accident, I hope.

LOFTY. Undone, madam, that's all. His creditors have taken him into
custody. A prisoner in his own house.

MRS. CROAKER. 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.