Burney, Frances. Love and Fashion. Ed. with an Introduction by Jessica Richard. British Women Playwrights around 1800. 15 April 2000.
Act V
Scene 1
[The beautiful country landscape, with hills & groups of trees. Mordaunt saunters in.]
Mordaunt.
I see nothing of this conjuror. It's being devilishly hard driven to look out for such a resource; &, after all, as the good old Gentleman says, what the deuce it is makes us run this cursed race, & never stop till we are blown up, (71) is more than I quite understand, though I have played so deeply in the Game. I thought to have found it devilishly pleasanter. But every body does it. So there's no help. Ha! probably that's my necromancer![Enter the Strange Man.]
Strange Man.
Why I can light of all on um but Mr. Walentine. [aside.]Mordaunt.
Harkee, friend—Are you the fellow that tells fortunes in this neighbourhood?Strange Man.
Ay, your honour, one does what one can to turn a penny.Mordaunt.
Well, I sha'n't fatigue your ingenuity to tell me mine; but, harkee,—go towards the village, &, by means of your art, persuade the first two or three young damsels you meet, that, if they come to this spot, they will see the exact resemblance of their destined sweethearts. Here! [gives him money.]Strange Man.
Very well, your honour.—Icod, this is rare fun enough! I'll tip the Master the same compliment I tipt the Wallets. I likes to serve all with the same sarse. [aside. Exit.]Mordaunt.
Now let's see what this will do for us—scanning the ideas of little field savages upon Love & Marriage. Devilishly hard driven! devilishly! I wish to my Soul I had never touched a dice.—Ah ha! one of the Natives coming down already! How eagerly she sucks in his fine promises! Poor little toad! 'tis almost ill-natured to set her upon looking out for a man of my figure among her louts of lovers. It may make her turn off Pretender after Pretender, till she ends in leading apes. (72)[Enter the Hay Maker.]
Ha! here already!—What shall I do to prevent her being afraid of me? She can hardly ever have been spoken to by a man of Fashion before. Come hither, little maid. You're a pretty Girl, 'pon honour.
Hay Maker.
So they do tell me, Master. [courtsying.]Mordaunt.
They do, do they? But you don't believe them?Hay Maker.
Foie, then! I do believe all the World. But so Tom do fancy me, it be all one to I what I be.Mordaunt.
Tom? O, there's a Tom, is there?Hay Maker.
Yes; And I be a looking for him up & down. May hap you do know to shew me which way he be?Mordaunt.
O, very likely!Hay Maker.
You may be years & years before you do guess the good luck I have to tell him. Why one of the fine folk come to yon house thinder, have sent me a new Gown, & Tom a new Coat, for no one yearthly thing but for we two to be married in!Mordaunt.
And is that what brought you this way?Hay Maker.
Why no,—partly—for I do think Tom be gone yinder, up the hill. But I did meet with a man who do say he be a Conjuror; & he told me if I would be of good heart, to look at something froightful, an I would come this way, & star it full in the face, it would bring me main good luck.Mordaunt.
And is that all he said to you about coming to this spot?Hay Maker.
Yes; And I be a peering & a looking, & a looking & a peering, & no one yearthly thing can I see but only you—so I do hope no offence, but I do e'en almost think it must be You, Master.Mordaunt.
What!Hay Maker.
Why you would no' be sorry to bring a poor lassy good luck—would ee, now?Mordaunt.
Why what the deuce! do you think I look like something froightful, then?Hay Maker.
You mayn't be affronted, Master, for you may be main good, an you be never so plain.Mordaunt.
I may, may I? Commend me to your consolation! I appear to you very plain, then, do I ?Hay Maker.
Nay, Master, I've seen worser looking men;—no offence, I hope.Mordaunt.
O, you have? That's comforting, however.Hay Maker.
There be our parish clerk—he have a hair lip; & a large big wart do hang to his Chin, that do make him look like unto a scare crow.Mordaunt.
O, so you think I am rather better than a scare crow?Hay Maker.
Yes, I do, Master.Mordaunt.
You do? I wish I may die if this i'n't agreeable enough! & pray, what's Tom? I must not presume, I suppose, to be as handsome as Tom?Hay Maker.
As Tom? Why he be the likeliest lad of all our Parish! He be as ruddy as a rose, & as strait as a Poplar; & his two Eyes do shoine as broight as two glow worms in a dark lane after sun set. You as handsome as Tom? Why all our folk would e'en almost laugh to hear you.Mordaunt.
They would, would they? I am only like the Parish clerk, then, maybe?Hay Maker.
Ah, yinder he be! I must run to tell him of our fine new geer. [Exit.]Mordaunt.
A facetious encounter enough! My Fortune-teller is a good pleasant sort of a wag. I should not be sorry to lop both his Ears off. A Parish clerk, with a hare lip, & a large big wort pendant from the Chin!—A little ignorant, impertinent Pauper!—Well, it i'n't worth resenting; but I'll make off before I have any more of this rural sport. I've had enough. [Exit.][Enter Lord Ardville & Sir Archy.]
Lord Ardville.
I am ill disposed to go on, Sir Archy.Sir Archy.
O, relent, my lord, relent! The freaks of female youth are not worth a man's attention. Leave them alone, & they wear away of themselves—though 'tis odds, I own, but they wear you away first! [aside.]Lord Ardville.
It may be so, Sir Archy; but I beg it mav be understood I submit to no liberties, let them be obtruded from what quarter they may.Sir Archy.
Nay, nay, my lord, 'tis vain to oppose Destiny. What Hero has borne, you must bear. A young Beauty, in the first flight of her charms, makes at every point of attraction in half an Hour; now radiant in smiles, now glowing with blushes, now melting into Tears. No Fawn is more timid,—yet no Colt is so skittish; no Dove is more tender—yet no monkey so delights in mischief. If she looks at you with softness turn & see what Rival she would hang, or drown; if she exclaim You are a good Creature! make speedy enquiry if she has not told her confident you are a fool:—but, if she says You wicked Wretch, I can't bear You!—open your arms,—for she means to run into them. Yet call her capricious, & she breaks with you! Call her false—& she only pats you with her Fan. Reproach her with a foible, & she is like a heroine in despair: forsake her alltogether, &, in three weeks the little Gipsey stares at You as a new acquaintance. You storm—she laughs; you reason—she pouts: you humble yourself—she softens; you catch her—but, if you look another way, though it be but to thank your stars—before you can look again, she is dancing off!—Ah, my lord, what sleepy business were life, if Woman,—as well as Man, were, really, a rational being!Lord Ardville.
I never yet formed a plan that was so ill combined as to fail, Sir Archy; &, I wish to have it understood, I never intend it.Sir Archy.
This will not produce an exception, be assured, my lord.Lord Ardville.
Well, sir, if you are so confident —Sir Archy.
I am. Come on, my lord, come on!
Scene 2
[The inner Chamber. Enter Hilaria, with the case of Jewels.]
Hilaria.
In this room, I shall be free from interruption, for no one dare enter it. O Valentine!—but I will never think of him again!—No!—I will provide for the virtuous Wood-Cutter & Hay-maker —but never ruminate upon their happy lot—No!—I will examine these beautiful gems, & dwell upon the plan of good which shall succeed when their novelty is over,—but admit no retrospection!—none! none!—O Valentine! I must turn wholly from the past, & strain every nerve, to acquire courage, at length, to look this frightful old Peer in the face. [opens the case.] They are really most sumptuous. I'll shut the door & try them on. [Shuts the door, & goes to a looking glass.] How becoming this is!—And how elegant this!—O, I never saw such a love as this beautiful—ah!—Good God! —who's there?—[Valentine, softly opening the private door, advances gently, & appears to her in the Glass.]
Valentine.
Once again, madam,—Hilaria.
Heavens!Valentine.
And yet more unopportunely than before, I have the misfortune to give you unwelcome surprise; but the employment which I interrupt, shews me that the purpose for which I ventured to approach you is already out of date. [He retires.]Hilaria. [in great confusion, pulling of the Jewels, & putting them into the case].
I was only—I did not mean—I was merely—[turning round]. He is gone!—what a barbarous incident! He will think me revelling in the spoils of which I seem to bereave his family!—And if he appear now, he will be seized by that horrible bailiff!—Ah! [runs to the door he has just closed.] Mr. Exbury!—Mr. Valentine!—Valentine [returning].
Do you permit me to come back?Hilaria.
For heaven's sake, be careful how you leave the house!—There is a man—there is a person—who is watching —who, I hear from Sir Archy—Valentine.
Is it possible! has Sir Archy betrayed —Hilaria.
No, no—he only said—I only gathered —in short, never mind how I heard it, but don't terrify me by running into the very midst of danger!Valentine.
Amiable, generous Hilaria! Would You save Me, & shall I not try to save You? Since my ruined situation is now known to You, I may speak with more propriety, more courage, for in learning that I am.... undone, you cannot deem me villain enough to mean to plead for myself.Hilaria.
And what do I care for any thing else? [aside.]Valentine.
I must be plain, for my time is short. May I—will you give me leave to be explicit?Hilaria.
What is it you wish to say?Valentine.
I would frankly urge you to examine your own motives for accepting Lord Ardville.Hilaria.
Pshaw!Valentine.
And I would honestly point out to you the consequences for yourself to which your acceptance may lead.Hilaria.
I can see no use in all this—but if it will give you any pleasure—Valentine.
With a thousand native good qualities —sweetness, sense, kindness, spirit—You have suffered yourself—pardon me, Miss Dalton, to become merely a Vassal, a cypher in the dominion of Fashion.Hilaria.
And who, that lives in the World, is otherwise?Valentine.
All—who dare think for themselves, or who feel for others!Hilaria.
Your most obedient!Valentine.
Let me not anger you—yet I come forward now solely as a friend, & if I can hope to convince, must refrain from sparing you. But, not of you, individually, do I at this moment speak: your excellencies would counterbalance a thousand foibles; I mean but to paint that vortex of Fashion into which you are drawn, & to whose capricious, but despotic laws, if you are not upon your guard, Time & habit may reconcile you.Hilaria.
Only one previous question: do not you allow yourself to be—rather—a little—severe?Valentine.
You must judge that; but, if I am just, disdain not to listen. The votaries, the general votaries of Fashion, weak rather than wicked, are less the slaves of their own follies, than of those of others. They do not, therefore, in their matrimonial choice, enquire whom they prefer, or whom they dislike: their sole solicitude is to gather whom their associates will approve, or will scorn. For themselves, if self-consulted, they might, perhaps, acknowledge, that an amiable companion would make them happier than the trappings of a Coach horse; but when they ask what is said around them, they find the equipage alone considered the Companion not thought of: his disposition never investigated, his principles never examined, his humours, his age, nay, his character left to chance—as if all, save his establishment, were immaterial to happiness.Hilaria.
Now don't say more shocking things than you can help!Valentine.
For purposes such as these—for the gratification of bye standers, the applause of lookers on—are we to chuse the friends of our bosom?—the Partners of our days?Hilaria.
Why it is but—foolish, to be sure!Valentine.
For This was that sacred union ordained? For This were we gifted with descriminative faculties? Invested with taste? Endued with powers of reflexion? a sense of virtue? a love of excellence? a soul of sympathy?—Hilaria [turning away from him].
Now don't speak—& look too!Valentine.
You wish, I know, to unite Love with Fashion?Hilaria [turning quick back to him].
You are right! That alone would answer my ideas of complete felicity.Valentine.
And will the heart, think you, be content to be the servant of Appearance? No! You will find such a union impracticable. The happiness of true Love is domestic life: the very existence of Fashion is public admiration.Hilaria [disturbed].
We don't, you know, all think exactly alike about these things—however, make haste,—for really—Valentine [with encreased energy].
Do those who trample upon Nature, imagine they destroy her? The attempt is shallow & vain. While we breath the vital air, while existence is accorded us, be she abused, disguised, offended as she may, Nature will still rise triumphant, & assert her claims!Hilaria [with emotion].
Well, now—is not this enough?Valentine [with a softened tone].
Ah then!—when you are satiated with art, & artifice, & Nature—all powerful Nature, resume her dominion—when the vanities of life, losing their charm with their novelty, give silent, instinctive way to the impressions of the heart, how dreadful the self-view of the wilful martyr at the shrine of Interest!—Hilaria.
No more!—no more!—Valentine.
Honour bartered for wealth—yet irretrievably shackled!—Tenderness cast away for shew,—yet divested of all right of complaint!—Domestic bliss sacrificed for luxury—yet never more to be attained!—nor even sought, nor even hoped for,—except by the fatal road of frailty—dishonour—& guilty, premeditated divorce!Hilaria [bursting into tears].
O Valentine!—you wish to kill me!Valentine.
Mercenary ties are ultimately miserable, because radically dishonest. Virtuous love is as truly the principle of conjugal happiness, as untainted integrity is of bosom repose. To forego the first, you consign your youth to regret; to tarnish the last, you deliver up your latter days to remorse.Hilaria [casting herself upon the sofa].
I die!Valentine [kneeling, & kissing her hand].
Forgive—& forget me!—but remember my exhortation,—& bestow not your unhallowed hand, where you withhold your generous heart! [Exit, with precipitation.][Hilaria covers her face, & remains motionless. Enter Davis.]
Davis [standing at the door].
Lord Ardville, ma'am, & Sir Archy FineerHilaria [starting up].
Where is Lord Exbury? [runs out.]Davis.
She goes so fast, I take it, for fear of the closet! I'm sure I won't be behind hand! [running after.]
Scene 3
[Lord Exbury's Study. Lord Exbury sits writing.]
Hilaria [without].
Where is Lord Exbury?[Enter Hilaria. She runs to Lord Exbury & flings herself upon one knee before him.]
Hilaria.
I cast myself upon your goodness, my dear lord, I fly to you for aid—counsel—support! Save me, I beseech you, the horror of an explanation with Lord Ardville,—save me the danger of derision & persecution from Sir Archy! Act for me, dearest Lord Exbury! I am upon the brink of perjury & wretchedness, & have not fortitude to act for myself!Lord Exbury [raising her].
Rise, my dear Hilaria; this posture oppres ses me. What can I ever have power to do for you, that the most simple request will not obtain?Hilaria.
O my lord! I recoil with penitence from the ungenerous part I have been performing! My Eyes are now opened, & I look back upon myself with disdain.Lord Exbury.
What step do you wish me to take?Hilaria.
Send for Lord Ardville, return him these Jewels, & tell him I can't help it,—but—I find I hate him more & more!—Lord Exbury.
And is that all? [half smiling.]Hilaria.
I know I have no right to impose upon you so disagreeable a task, yet, consider—Lord Exbury.
I do consider that the impulse of Conscience ought never to be checked. You shall command me. Is my Brother here?Hilaria.
Yes, with Sir Archy Fineer, in the chamber they called the Ghost room.Lord Exbury.
That may prove a fortunate circumstance; to speak of so ludicrous a report, will somewhat lessen the awkward solemnity of our meeting. Mordaunt & my daughter shall accompany me to receive him; &, while they engage the attention of Sir Archy, I will execute as I can! —my commission. [Exit.]Hilaria.
Heavens! if Valentine should have neglected to fasten the private door!— I'll fly to the adjoining room, & watch, &, if there should be any danger—run every risk to turn it from—or share it with him! [Exit.]
Scene 4
[The inner Chamber. Lord Ardville, & Sir Archy Fineer. Enter, to them, Lord Exbury, Mordaunt, & Miss Exbury.]
Lord Exbury.
Sir Archy, your most obedient Brother, let me welcome you to my Cottage, where, if I cannot regale you according to my wishes, I may at least amuse you beyond your expectations, for know! you are now in a Chamber that, by village report, is haunted.Miss Exbury.
O, it's vastly foolish to believe in such things, but yet, I can assure you—[Enter Davis.]
Davis [only putting his head in the door].
My lord, Mr. Litchburn humbly begs to know whether he may go home? not that he presumes, he says, to be in any hurry, for he is very sensible, he says, of the honour of waiting two hours in the cold; only—Lord Exbury.
Poor Mr. Litchburn! I really beg his pardon. He is a principal character in this Ghost drama. Ask him up.Davis.
Up here, my lord?Sir Archy [laughing].
Ah, Davis, you have not forgotten our Ghost adventure? Why do you only put in your head?Davis.
Please your honour—that my heels may be on the road to carry it off! [Exit.]Miss Exbury.
Sir Archy is amazingly at his ease, I think! however, I am very glad of it, for he's so vastly shy about the settlement & the Pin money, that it has quite conquered my partiality for him. [aside.]Lord Exbury [apart to Mordaunt].
Mordaunt, did I not beg you to entertain Sir Archy while I spoke with your Uncle?Mordaunt.
My lord?—I entertain Sir Archy? —what the deuce can the good old Gentleman have gotten into his head to suppose I should take that trouble? [aside, & throwing himself on the sofa.][Enter Mr. Litchburn, shewn in by Davis, who is retiring.]
Miss Exbury.
Come in, Davis. I want you to shew me the very spot where the Ghost appeared to you. [Makes Davis enter, with whom she discourses apart.]Litchburn.
My good lord! I humbly hope your good lordship won't command me in here? Why that's the very closet!—I'm all in an ague!—Not but I'm proud of the honour![Enter Innis, out of breath.]
Innis.
O, my young lady is not here? I was just coming to tell about the Ghost.Miss Exbury.
The Ghost? O dear, Mrs. Innis,— don't say any thing frightful!Lord Exbury.
Give your account, Mrs. Innis.Davis.
The Ghost! I wish to the lord I were at the land's End!—at least, as far off as Kensington Gravel Pits!Litchburn [trembling].
I'm in such a prodigious shake, I am afraid my Wig will fall off my head! [holding on his wig.]Sir Archy.
A dispatch from the Ghost? Deliver it, I entreat, fair Innis. My nocturnal recreation gives me a peculiar interest in that business.Innis.
Why, sir,—why, my lord,—why, ma'am—I've seen it! I've seen it myself!—Davis.
O lord!—& have you heard it, too, Mrs. Innis? Had it the voice?Sir Archy.
And did you approach it, Mrs. Innis? Had it the Bludgeon?Litchburn.
A fly might knock me plump off my balance!Innis.
The house-keeper shewed it me herself; & there's the key of the Closet, for who will to look in it.Litchburn.
Not I, for one, I'll be bound!Davis.
Nor I, if I might look till my Eyes turned to diamonds!Sir Archy [snatching the key].
I'm the man for that! [opens the door.]Litchburn [pulling his Wig over his Eyes].
If I see it again, I shall swoon out-right!Sir Archy.
Here are old trunks & bandboxes to pack up all the Ghosts of Macbeth—but nothing else.Innis.
Why it's all a trick, Sir! all a trick, ma'am!—nothing else but a trick, to frighten away wickedness.Davis.
A trick? Why then it must have borrowed that voice of forty or fifty devils!—two or three, at any rate!Litchburn.
A trick? Dear Heart! I've pulled my new wig out of curl for nothing! [settling his wig.]Lord Exbury.
Explain, Mrs. Innis.Innis.
Why, my lord, the house keeper told me a young Girl belonging to her happenned to be very pretty; & so,—people will be wicked, you know, my lord—there's no help for that! & so, Mr. Litchburn—All.
Mr. Litchburn!Mordaunt.
What! did the Ghost come to take care of the virtue of old Litchburn?Miss Exbury.
Old Mr. Litchburn a man of gallantry!Sir Archy.
Another antediluvian Strephon! Why I may come & play the lover in these parts any time these thirty years!Litchburn.
I'm so astound, I don't know of a truth whether I a'n't in a dream!—but, if I may be believed, my good lords —& ladies—I hadn't so much as cast a glance at a pretty Girl these twenty years!—Innis.
La, Mr. Litchburn, I don't know what makes you so quick, but—Litchburn.
I quick? Why this is quite the extraordinary of all! In our whole nelghbourhood, it's the mode to nominate me the snail! & what I may have done to the Young Gentlewoman, that she should put all the badness upon me, is more than I can get at the bottom of:—though I hope I don't so far forget myself as not to know what an honour it is for such a nobody as I am, to be smiled upon by such a company as This!Innis.
Why I did not mean You, Mr. Litchburn —for all you have not cast a glance at a pretty Girl these twenty years!— [courtsying.] However, what I was going to say, ma'am, was, that Mr. Litchburn had a young lad that the house-keeper found out was to meet the young Girl, early one morning, in that closet. So she thought she'd give him a good cure at once. So she sent the young Girl out of the way, & then borrowed a layman—(73)All.
A layman?Innis.
Yes, a layman, of a nephew that was a Painter, & dressed it up in her late lady's cloaths. And That was the Ghost! which she took away with her privately this morning.Lord Exbury.
Your walking lady, Davis, will now, I trust, cease to disturb You. Like all other reported apparitions, it waited but investigation, to be metamorphosed into fraud, or mistake.Davis.
Well, I can only say—if I did not hear a voice—I've been out of my head. [Exit.]Innis [aside].
And if I don't bring you round again, I shall be out of mme; for I see there's no good comes of waiting for Young Gentlemen. [Exit.]Miss Exbury [aside].
Sir Archy behaves so vastly meanly, that I won't stay in the room with him. Not but I'm extremely rejoiced at it, for, after all, very likely his uncle may recover;—& perhaps his Brother & Sister may both get better;—& nobody can tell but his mother may live these ten years. [Exit.]Lord Ardville.
And werefore am I condemned -Lord Exbury.
I have other matter, Brother for your Ear, &—[A noise is made within the wainscoat.]
Sir Archy.
Egad, I hear a noise myself, now?Lord Exbury.
Some rats or mice are playing gambols within the Walls.Litchburn.
Dear Heart, it's from the Garden Stair-case! [aside.]Sir Archy.
I am curious to see farther into this business. [They all listen.] The sound seems to proceed from within this pannel. Let's try if it has any opening.[Enter Hilaria, who places herself between Sir Archy, & the private door.]
Hilaria.
No, Sir Archy, it has none!Sir Archy.
Hey day, my fair Cousin?Lord Ardville.
Miss Dalton!Hilaria [agitated].
Do pray go, Sir Archy?Sir Archy.
Go? & for what reason, my sweet Coz?Hilaria.
O, don't wait asking reasons—I hate reason.Mordaunt.
I never knew a lady that did not.Lord Exbury.
Let me beg you, Miss Dalton, to make way, & suffer me to examine—you tremble?—what can disturb you? —you change colour?—what can thus affect you? Surely you are not seriously frightened ?A Coarse Voice from Within.
You're somewhere here-abouts, my young 'Squire, I'll be bound.Hilaria.
Ah Heaven![The private door is burst open, & Valentine enters in disorder.]
Valentine.
Miss Dalton—How? Company! Confusion! —My Father!—Good Heaven!—[turns round in distress, as if seeking where to hide himself. ]Lord Exbury.
Valentine!Lord Ardville.
So! so! so!—but I thought how it was! I anticipated it exactly.[Enter the Strange Man. He stops & looks warily around him.]
Hilaria.
Alas!
Strange Man [laying his hand on Valentine's Shoulder].
O ho, my young sir, I've catched you at last!Lord Exbury [darting forward, & laying his hand on his other Shoulder].
My life is his protection! What claim, sir, have you upon this Gentleman ?Bailiff [taking out a writ].
Claim, your worship? Ecod, a claim to the tune of five thousand pounds.Lord Exbury.
What barbarous mystery is unfolding? Here, too, must ruin meet me?—Valentine! utter but one word: Is this true? —Is it false?Valentine [striking his forehead].
Oh God!Lord Exbury.
He cannot answer!—Tis enough! [to the Bailiff] Sir, do your office!—[withdrawing his hand] I interfere no more.—He is guilty!Mordaunt [suddenly springing from the sofa].
He is innocent!Lord Exbury.
Blessed be those words!—Mordaunt, I forgive all that is passed! [falling on his neck.]Mordaunt.
Brother Valentine, I feel awakened as from a lethargy by your unexampled generosity. My lord, I'll tell you plainly how the matter stands. A short time ago, I lost, in one night, five thousand pounds, to an old friend who, that same night, after gaining it, lost thirty to another, & immediately shot himself. My bond for the five thousand was all he left his widow. His Executers came upon me, I could produce neither cash nor security; & Valentine—to save me—or rather, I believe, You,—the disgrace of an arrest, took the bond, though to the full amount of his fortune, upon himself.Lord Exbury.
Go on!—I cannot breathe!Mordaunt.
The affair, however, got buzzed about, & my Creditors becoming cursed troublesome, the application followed to yourself, which brought us all to this shabby habitation. But when I tried to have this five thousand consolidated with my general compromize the lady's agents refused, insisting, since the bond had been transferred to Valentine, he should be responsable for full payment: an event which, I protest, I had not foreseen.Valentine.
How kind, how seasonable for me, my dear Mordaunt, is the openness of this explanation! I thankfully accept— but should never have demanded it. The lady's claim, however, my lord, seems to me so equitable, that accident alone prevented my immediately setting off for town, to settle the business I had only wished that my Father might not learn my misfortune, till I had entered the army, & was in the road of Honour for retrieving it.Lord Exbury.
Son of my cherished hopes! my prop! my pride! Thou art innocent!—Come to thy Father's bosom!—Fortune, I defy thee!Mordaunt.
I have been the ruin of you all, —& I feel cursed queer. I'll go & lie down again. [going.]Lord Exbury.
Mordaunt! You could brave the detection of your errors but you blush at being surprised into repentance! You have strewn, however, some marks of sensibility; return not, then, again, into the nothingness of affected apathy. Feel for your friends, & fear not but they will feel for you.[Mordaunt abashed, returns to the Sofa.]
Bailiff.
Well, have you done your palavering? (74)Valentine.
I am ready to attend you. [Valentine & the Bailiff are retiring.]Hilaria [flying to Lord Ardville].
O my lord! save your noble nephew —& I am yours for-ever!Lord Ardville.
How, madam! What!Valentine [returning].
No! save me not, my lord!—I will not be saved!Lord Exbury.
And can my Brother know my situation, yet suffer him to be torn from me?Bailiff.
Come, sir, come!Hilaria.
I cannot bear it!—Release him, Lord Ardville,—take his bond upon yourself—or let me present him with these jewels—& see behold!—I offer you my hand!Valentine.
Take it not, my lord!—Perdition be my portion if I profit I from such perjured vows! No, madam, I accept not your boon!Lord Ardville.
What does all this signify?Hilaria [advancing to Valentine].
You won't have the Jewels, then?Valentine.
No, madam!Hilaria.
And my lord must not have my hand?Valentine [turning away].
Inhuman!Hilaria.
Why, then,—suppose my lord takes the Jewels, &—&—&—[hesitating.]Lord Exbury.
Valentine the hand? [smiling.] Have I finished the phrase rightly?Valentine [returning].
Heavens!Hilaria.
My dear lord Exbury, under your wing I will not blush to be sincere. Yes, it was Valentine who opened my Eyes to the error of my conduct. Forgive me, Lord Ardville, that I had ever consented to be yours; & bless & thank your nephew that—I retract!Lord Ardville.
Madam!Sir Archy.
Off again, Egad!—A whirlpool is stagnant, compared with a woman! [aside.]Hilaria.
He has saved You, my lord, from disappointment, & me from repentance. He has rescued You from a Wife who might have revelled in all your wealth—without participating in one of your cares!—might have shared all your honours—yet have fled your society!— have enjoyed all your luxuries,—yet have shrunk from your affection!Lord Ardville.
Astonishing!—But 'tis what I have uniformly expected.Hilaria.
I attempt no apology, my lord— I am too much ashamed. I only entreat to restore these Jewels.Lord Ardville.
To whom, madam? [haughtily.]Hilaria.
To your lordship.Lord Ardville.
I comprehend you, madam! You would teach the World to infer you return a disappointed man his rejected offerings?Hilaria.
My lord?Lord Ardville.
But you are mistaken, madam. I had not any design—believe me,—of a personal application. They were a free gift.Sir Archy.
A free gift?—And the lawyer, my lord, to whom your lordship wrote last night concerning the settlement?Lord Ardville.
That, sir, was merely—that was entirely—Sir Archy.
Ah, my lord, human nature, even at its best, has a sad trick of being fallible; & your lordship yourself —for once!—seems to have been tinctured with misapprehension.Lord Ardville.
I, sir? With misapprehension? That will be new to me, I confess! No, sir! that settlement was meant—believe me, —solely, & unequivocally—for—for the bride of my nephew Valentine— with whom I have—uniformly—wished Miss Dalton—very happy.Sir Archy.
My dear lord!—Lord Ardville.
Sir Archy, you will give me leave, I presume, to know my own purposes? I here protest it has been my invariable design to form the establishment of my youngest nephew, upon—upon his alliance with—Miss Dalton.Sir Archy.
Invariable?—Lord Ardville.
No smiling, sir!—to convince you of the sincerity with which I desire to promote the union, I here take upon myself the discharge of my nephew's fraternal debt.—Are you satisfied now, sir? or am I still guilty of misapprehension?Lord Exbury.
Brother! [approaching him].Valentine.
Uncle!Lord Ardville [repulsing them].
I hate acknowledgements. All I require is to be vindicated from an imputation so foreign to my character as that of ever framing a design that has proved abortive—a weakness that has never occurred to me yet;—though I can discern, Sir Archy, that you think me—I perceive, indeed, you all around think me—a dupe & a fool!Sir Archy.
Your lordship's judgement, is, I own, unerring!—I submit! [bowing.]Lord Ardville.
I demand, therefore, to be cleared to the whole World from this unfounded rumour—the origin of which I can only attribute to the officious loquacity of Mr. Litchburn.Litchburn.
Of me?—Dear Heart!—but I'd best not speak!—Lord Ardville.
My resentment, therefore, closes my patronage. I notice him no more.Litchburn.
My good lord—but I'd always better hold my tongue!—Lord Ardville.
I am much indebted to you, Lord Exbury, for pressing me into this diverting scene, with your Goblins, & merry sprites: & I beg you to accept my compliments in return—with my warmest wishes—that You & your Ghost—were laid in the red sea together! [Exit.][Lord Exbury whispers the Bailiff, who retires.]
Litchburn.
Dear Heart! if this is not the extraordinary of all! So here I've been trampled upon all these years for nothing—except just the Honour!—Mordaunt.
For me—I deserve, I know, to be hanged;—& I feel cursedly ashamed—[to Lord Exbury] but if You can forgive the past, I will live upon roots, I will lie upon straw, to acellerate your restoration to your rights.Lord Exbury.
You restore me those I most prize, my affection & hopes in my son! [embraces him.]Hilaria [approaching Lord Exbury].
To You, then, my dear lord, let me commit this case, which never can be mine—or never but through your family. —Lord Exbury.
Valentine! must all acknowledgement to this generous creature flow solely from me?Valentine.
Amazement—admiration—& the acutest sensations, silence—agitate—entrance me!—But I will not abuse her goodness, her nobleness, No!—let me fly!—Lord Exbury.
Valentine, mistake not pride for delicacy. My Brother, for every reason, will adhere to his declaration; & even were it otherwise, your misfortunes have been the result of kindness & generosity, not of extravagance or dishonour. Upon such falls no shame! Your character, & your situation in life, will soon raise you above them. Is This a Land where spirit & Virtue shall want Protection? What is there of Fortune or distinction unattainable in Britain by Talents, probity, & Courage?Valentine [taking his Father's hand].
And you would not deem me base—Hilaria [speaking over his shoulder].
And you do not think me mad—Lord Exbury.
Base?—Mad?—No! Has a man hands, & shall he fear to work for the Wife of his choice? Has a Woman a heart —& shall she barter her Person for Gold?Valentine [to Hilaria].
Dare I then, thus encouraged—Hilaria.
O Valentine, You have drawn me for-ever from the vortex of dissipation & FashionValentine.
To fold thee, my Hilaria, in the bosom of conjugal Love! [embracing her.]Lord Exbury.
Happy be ye both, my dearest Children! [throwing his arms round him.]Sir Archy.
I have the honour to wish you all much joy.—So here, with a breath, is her coronet blown to the Winds, & my Pharo Table to—old Nick!—for aught I know, Egad, the fittest person to receive it! [aside.]Litchburn [sighing deeply].
Poor me!—If I'd fifty Sons, I'd bring 'em all up to be Coblers—rather than Dependants—if it were not for the honour!Lord Exbury.
Mr. Litchburn, do not be dejected. I shall make it my peculiar business to take care of you.Litchburn.
Your good lordship?—Dear Heart! And shall I have a patron that will let me say my Soul's my own? Why then, the next time I see my good lord Ardville, I'll pluck up courage to tell him—at least to give a little—sort of a—kind of a—hint,—respectfully! [bowing] that I begin to think [smiling] I know—almost—black from white —humbly craving pardon for the liberty.Lord Exbury.
And now, my dear Children, let your desires be as moderate as your affections are disinterested—& while Virtue will be the Guardian of Your Union, Felicity will be its recompense.END OF ACT V.