[SCENE, a Chamber. Enter Jeffreys; Caesar from the opposite Side.]
Jeffreys
Come hither, Cesar; I've something for
you at last.—I have agreed with Norton about you, and an unconscionable
dog he is; but damme, I cou'd not bear to stand hagling about a fellow creature.
Caesar [leaps
for joy.]
Oh, Massa—bless you, Massa—am
I den your slave now, Massa, I sarve you faithly.
[Puts Jeffrey's hand on his head, and bows his body in token of submission.]
Jef.
No, Caesar; you are no slave of mine—you are no slave of mine—you
are—
Caesar [looks surprised.]
Did you no say, Massa, you agree for me?
Jef.
Yes, my good lad; but for fear I shou'd die too, like your old master, I will
give you your liberty now, while I have the power.—You are free, Caesar;
I make you so; but I wou'd not mention my intention to you before, lest it
might be disappointed.
Caesar
Massa [astonished] give me liberty! oh, Massa! Massa! Massa! Mass—
[First he speaks loud, then fainter and fainter, till he faints away in Jeffrey's arms, who catches him.]
"Jef
Hey, hey, Caesar—why Caesar! what the devil shall I do now? I've certainly
kill'd him; and, damme, I shall get hang'd for my generosity without benefit
of clergy! lord! lord! for they'll never believe I have kill'd him with kindness.—Why,
Caesar! a pretty piece of work this!—Ah, Jeffreys, you have cross'd
the line to a pretty purpose, truly—just to be tuck'd up o' the other
side on't.—The fellow's certainly dead, and I've freed his soul instead
of his body.—Stay—he moves;—why, Caesar, you dog, damme, you've
frighted me out of my wits."
Caesar
Oh, Massa! you kill me vid good—you give poor black liberty.—He
die vid joy!—Ah, Massa, I kiss your feet.
[Falls flat on the ground, embracing his feet.]
Jef.
No, Caesar; get up; be a good fellow and a faithful friend, that's the best
way of expressing your thanks.
Caesar [rising]
Dear Massa, you so good! you break my heart.—[weeping.]—My
joy—feel sad—oh, never—never make you mends, dear, dear Massa.
Jef.
I'm not your Master, Caesar, but your friend.—Give me your hand, my lad;
and let me see by your spirit and bravery you deserve freedom.
Caesar
Friend oh vil you vite man be so kind to call poor black friend?
de black mans he fight for his friend—bleed for his friend—die for
him—"starve for him"—every ting for his friend.—But
oh, Massa, I must call you Massa; for me feel, me love you like my old Massa.
Jef.
Well, we won't fall out about that now; but, you dog, I must make you a lad
of spirit, like an Englishman, or else, what's your liberty good for?
Caesar
Ah, Massa, I free! I like you!—Am I Englishman?—oh teach me be Englishman.
Jef.
That I will, you rogue.—An Englishman—ay, he lives as he likes—lives
where he likes—goes where he likes—stays
where he likes—works if he likes—lets it alone,
if he likes—"starves, if he likes—abuses who he likes—boxes
who he likes"—thinks what he likes—speaks what he thinks—
for, damme, he fears nothing, and will face the devil.
[Clinching his fist.]
Caesar
Oh rare, Massa, Massa.
[Leaps for joy, rubbing his hands.]
Jef.
And now you're free, d'ye mind, if I chuse to swear at you, and break your
head, I've a right to it; because d'ye see now, you're my friend and my equal,
and may at me again, if you have spunk enough for it. But before,
when you were a poor handcuff'd slave, I'd have knock'd my own brains out
before I'd have touch'd you; for a true-born Englishman, if he provokes him,
damme, he'd knock his best friend's teeth down his throat,—[to
be spoken quick]—but never lifts his hand against the oppress'd.
[Slower.]
Caesar
But, Massa, do Englishmans always quarrel with his friend and fight him?
Jef.
For my part, I never love my friend better than when I'm fighting with him.
Damme, if you han't spunk enough to quarrel with an Englishman, he despises
you.—"None of your damn'd congees for him"—give him an
honest knock o' the head, and he opens his heart to you directly.——Give
me your hand, my boy—never felt so happy in all my life; and if people
did but know the pleasure of doing a generous action, the devil take me if
I think there cou'd be an ill natur'd scoundrel in the universe.——Come
along, Caesar, "and let us drink to our lasting friendship; and remember
you must never suffer any body to abuse your friend—but—yourself."
[SCENE, A Card Room discovered.]
[Three Tables on a Side, ranged with Gentlemen and Ladies at Cards. At the upper End of the Stage a Door opens into a Ball-Room, where you see Couples standing cross the Door as dancing; Music playing as at a Distance, not too loud. At the first Table, next the Audience, on one Side, Mrs. Garnish, with her natural brown Complexion, her dark Hair dressed out with a Number of Jewels, and her whole Dress as fine, and overloaded with Finery as possible in the Indian Stile, lolling in her Chair, holding her Cards, and a black Slave standing by her, playing them for her as she speaks them, or points to them; taking up her Tricks, shuffling and taking up the Cards, and dealing for her Another Slave by the side of the other Lady does the same for her. This other Lady to be a Contrast to Mrs. Garnish in every Degree, looking pale and sick, peevish, ill-natured, and unhappy; dressed fine and aukward. Mrs. Garnish all Spirits, Pride, Vulgarity, and Self-consequence. The other Table in front of the opposite Side. A great fat Woman, very brown, sitting full front to the Audience, as fine as can be, but dressed as ridiculously as possible: this is Mrs. Gobble. The other Lady the Colour of Yarico. Miss Bronze dressed with Elegance, in a silver or gold Gauze, Flowers, Jewels, &c. a good Figure, and smart, with black Slaves playing their Cards, as before. Some of the Men elegant and genteel; others brown, sickly Skeletons; and the elderly Men very Fat; as these two Extremes prevail most in India; and in general an awkward, square Manner of holding their Shoulders very high, and stooping their Heads. Some tables with no Blacks attending, to show it is the Distinction of Consequence and Grandeur; and the Blacks who thus attend must be dressed finer and with more Attention than the others, who are seen coming about with Refreshments. The two Tables next to the Ball-room Door purposely neglected, to show they are People to be known Nobodies; where such Folks are generally placed to keep the Wind off from their Betters. The whole Group as much in the Bunbury Stile as possible.]
Mrs.
Gar.
I play alone, in diamonds.—Spadille——[Black
takes it out of her hand of cards, makes up the trick, and places it before
his mistress.]—Manille.—[Black
ditto, as before.]——Basto.——Umph!
can't have the volle, I presumes; but
there's the game dead.
[Throws down the cards; black opposite makes the cards, and her black deals for her.]
I Gent.
Well, Madam, have you seen our two lovely strangers, the Miss Moretons?
Mrs. Gar.
Seen 'em? yes.—[Turning up her nose.]—I play'd
alone, with mats; two gold mores, Sir, if you please.
Mrs. Gobble [at second table.]
What's trumps, Pompey? [In a coarse haggish voice.]
Pom.
De hearts, your Lady's honor.
Mrs. Gob.
Ah, hearts! I like that—I have always so many of 'em.—My lead—play
a club, Pompey.
2 Gent. [at first table.]
And don't you think the Miss Moretons, Mrs. Garnish, very fine women?
particularly the divine Eliza?
Mrs. Gar.
Umph, I don't know, Sir, what you call fine; for I pertest
I never seed a more meaner figure in all my born days, not I—why she
hasn't a jewel or a pearl about her whole dress.
Mrs. Gob. [bawling.]
Lord, Mrs. Garnish, why I hear they have receiv'd no company! There is
not a man in the rooms can tell me one word what they're like.
Miss Bronze
O Ma'am! Te, he, he, he! Mrs. Tartar was just now telling me the ladies were
so squeamish, truly! they wou'd not admit the gentlemen to pay their compliments,
for fear it should be thought they came to get husbands. Te, he, he!
[The ladies at all the tables laugh with affected airs.]
Mrs. Gob.
Ho! ho! ho! [vociferously]
Mrs. Gar.
Ha! ha! ha! [loud and vulgarly] Husbands, truly!
if the men are all of my mind, Miss Bronze, they'd sarve 'em right to take
no notice of 'um. What say you, Mrs. Gobble?
[Musick plays at the top of the stage.]
"Second Man at second
table
That don't seem to be the case then, Madam, for here they come, surrounded
by a croud of them."
[Enter Eliza and Louisa from the Ball Room, dress'd with the utmost Simplicity and Elegance of Taste and Fashion; but their Hair without Powder, in Curls and Ringlets, flowing in Abundance down their Backs to the Bottom of their Waists. Several Gentlemen with them; among the rest, Mr. Supple and the Resident, over dressed, and very hot. As Eliza and Louisa advance, the Ladies all eye them, wink and make all Sorts of rude Signs to one another about them. As Eliza advances towards Mrs. Garnish, she stares up rudely and vulgarly in her Face, and apparently examining her whole Dress and Figure. Eliza, with the utmost Ease and Elegance, sees it, but looks at her with much Nonchalance, and seems in high Spirits. Louisa, all elegant Softness on the other Side, seems disconcerted at their Behavior. During this time Music.]
Eliza
I am glad we have left the ball room; I declare, Resident, there's no dancing
a minuet here with any satisfaction; one's as much crouded as at the ball
at St. James's on a birth night.
Miss Bronze [in a loud whisper
to Mrs. Gobble]
Do you think she was ever there?
Res.
That was owing to your fine dancing, Eliza, and not to the smallness of the
room.
Sup.
Oh! such a minuet! [turns to Mrs. Garnish in a lower
voice] You never, Mrs. Garnish, saw such dancing in your life.
Mrs. Garn. [loud]
What, so monstrous bad, hey?
Eliza
[looking down at Mrs. Garnish with a smile of triumph]
La! Mrs. Garnish, have you forgot me—I'm sure I shall never forget
you—with your nice plumb cakes, so frosted and decorated; and your
pies and your puffs and ices, and creams, all so nice:—I us'd
to buy of you in Oxford road.
[Gents. all burst into a loud laughter.]
Louisa
I wonder we don't see Dormer here, cousin. [Aside to Eliza.]
Eliza
I guess'd you had been looking for him—nay, never blush—[turns
round carefully to Supple] Pray, Mr. Supple, what's become of your friend
Dormer, that he is not amongst us here tonight?
Sup.
Oh! he's a fellow of no taste, I can assure you , Madam—he hardly ever
appears at a ball—indeed some people doubt whether he knows how to dance;
but at present he is gone to a friend of his that is dying.
[Turns upon his heel with much indifference.]
Louisa
Benevolent creature! poor man! some sacrifice, perhaps, to this malignant
climate.
Gent.
Gentleman dying, say you? who's that? what young Edwards?
Sup.
Yes, I saw him this morning, and in my opinion, he could not possibly survive
four-and-twenty hours; but this is not a subject to entertain ladies—you
must not mind it, Madam. [to Louisa] These things happen every day
with us.
Eliza
Edwards! Edwards did you say, Sir? it's a common name—but—do you
know any—any thing of his family? [In agitation.]
Sup.
Not I, Madam; indeed I've heard he's a baronet's son—but I don't believe
it; nay, I'm very certain it's no such thing.
Eliza
Wou'd I were so too! not live! four-and-twen—[faints.]
Louisa
Oh, Mr. Supple, you have kill'd my cousin—my dear Eliza! [a great
fuss around her—she recovers.]
Eliza
Oh, Louisa!
Sup.
I am very sorry, Madam, but how could I imagine——
Louisa
If you would always imagine it necessary to have humanity, Sir, you would
not run the risque of shocking other people's feelings. Let me beg our carriage
may be call'd.
[They lead Eliza out, and the scene drops. Music again.]
[SCENE, Mr. Northcote's House. Northcote, Dormer, and Edwards discovered.]
North.
Come, come, Edwards, keep up your spirits, and don't give way to these delicate
fears of your mistress's constancy; faint heart never won fair lady—come,
here's a bumper to the divine Eliza.
Dor.
Nay, don't let's part two such charming women—therefore, here's a bumper
to both—Eliza and Louisa, if you please, Mr. Northcote.
North.
With all my heart—both, then,—you might have given 'em a glass a
piece tho'—to the charming cousins! Come Edwards, rouze man!
Edw.
Ah! my worthy David Northcote—your generous heart ever judges by itself—Eliza
was all that's amiable, but—
Dor.
Never fear, Edwards; remember true love never doubts.
Edw.
Rather say, it doubts and fears every thing—and her not answering my
last distracted note, sent her just before I sailed from England, gives me
cause to dread a change.
North.
Psha! instead of fighting and despairing, wait upon her—or at least write
to her; and Dormer here will delivery your letter, I am certain; especially
as that will give him an opportunity, and excuse, for paying his respects
to Louisa.
Dor.
On all accounts, most readily; write, write, and she shall have it before
she sleeps.
Edw.
You must excuse me, my dear friends; that love, which has hitherto sacrificed
every thing, I will not disgrace by an action that must be misconstrued—no—tho'
banish'd, distress'd, destroy'd for my constancy to her—yet I would sink
unknown, rather than force myself thus upon her notice.
North.
You are low spirited, that's all—bring us a hooker—come,
smoak a hooker, and drink a glass, and you'll soon perceive Eliza sparkling,
all love and beauty.
[Enter Jeffreys, (abruptly, in great agitation)]
Jef.
I beg pardon, gentlemen, for introducing—but I have been sent to know—to—enquire—shou'd
be much oblig'd to you, if you'd tell me which of you three it is—that
is—dying?
North.
Ha! ha! ha! this is droll enough—can't you find that out, friend, by
our countenances?
Jef.
O Lord! no Sir—but I beseech you, gentlemen, answer my question as quick
as possible.
Edw.
Don't you know the name of the person, my friend, you were sent to enquire
about?
Jef.
O lud, Sir, in my hurry I've forgot.
North.
You are mistaken in the house, perhaps?
Jef.
Oh no—I'm right as to the House, because one of Mrs. Tartar's
blacks came with me.
Edw. [in agitation]
Hey—what—Mrs. Tartar—who do you belong to there? [rising.]
Jef.
Dear Sir, why to the Miss Moretons, and there's Miss Eliza, laying almost
lifeless all this time; for she was told at the ball, this gentleman
[which ever it is of you] was dying.
North.
Was the gentleman's name Edwards, friend?
Jef.
The very same, Sir—Are you the gentleman;
Edw.
My worthy, dear Eliza! I—I am Edwards; fly, fly, my friend, and bring
me to her.
[Exit with Jeffreys.]
Dor.
Edwards dying! what could such a strange report arise from?
North.
At present no matter. However, let us follow poor Edwards to Mrs. Tartar's;
I don't know her, but as the young lady is thus affected, Edwards in his present
weak state may stand in need of our assistance.
Dor.
Undoubtedly he will—besides, as I am already acquainted with her, I can
easily introduce you.—Come, let's make haste, for Edwards is there by
this time. [Exeunt.]
[SCENE, a Room at Resident's. Enter Resident and Supple.]
Res.
Is the door fast, Supple? Well, now, what the devil's to be done about this
girl? As to that damn'd Edwards, I'll see him at the devil before he shall
have her—but with a fellow of his spirit, and a girl of her fortune,
fond of him, as you see she is, to distraction, why, they may take ship and
elope for the purpose.
Sup.
Which must be your business to prevent, good Sir.
Res.
Aye, but how? damn it, how?
Sup.
Why, Resident, I have often help'd you out at a dead lift, and I think I have
hit it now—I think I have.
Res.
Ay, there's my good Supple—what is't, what is't,? If you can but assist
me to disappoint this fellow, and get the girl myself—Damme, ask
what you will, have what you will—I'll deny you nothing.
Sup.
Why I think if we can fairly lay Master Edwards by the heels in our prison,
at this time of the year, and in such a devil of a place as you and
I know that it is—and ill, too, as he has been lately, I think
we shall have provided for him in less than eight-and-forty hours.
Res.
But upon what pretence?
Sup.
You know it's impossible for a writer to live upon his pay, and without being
in dept to the black merchants. I know he is pretty deep with Mazinghi Dowza;
send for him, tell him you have particular reasons to insist upon his arresting
Edwards—you know Tyler, our Mayor, and Edwards quarrel'd the
other day, so he will directly grant the warrant, and it may be done before
to-morrow morning.
Res.
I like it much, I'll about it instantly—Mazinghi Dowza is without
on other business.
Sup.
Is he? egad, then, I'll go and fetch him in directly. [Exit in haste.]
Res.
So! if I can but confine the dog in prison, it may do—for Eliza can procure
no money to release him, but through me. I'll part 'em, I warrant me, and
bring her haughty spirit lower—I'll be reveng'd, however, being refus'd
for such a spendthrift puppy, and can pass it off for prudence.
[Re-enter Supple with Mazinghi Dowza.]
Sup.
Come, come in, Mazinghi Dowza! his honor wants you for a particular service,
that you must execute for him directly.
Maz.
Me am do all his orders vid submission.
[Puts his hand on his head, and bows his body.]
Res.
Aye, aye, to be sure, you're a discreet, obedient man, Mazinghi, and know
your duty.—What is George Edwards, writer here, indebted to you?
Maz.
Your honor—me hope—you no offende me lende de poor fellow little
money for his distress..
Res.
Not at all, not at all, Mazinghi, not at all. But I am inform'd he's very
deep with you, and it is to serve you that I tell you, if you do not instantly
arrest him, you will lose your whole money.
[Mazinghi looks surprized and spreads his fingers.]
Sup.
Aye, it's very true, Mazinghi—what his worship's goodness tells you—you'll
lose every farthing if you don't secure him in a prison directly; and as his
honor has a value for you, he acquaints you with this.
Maz.
Massa Edwards vas always good and civil—He alvay pay me honest ven he
can, I sorry hurt him, good your honor's excellence.
Res.
Do you doubt my intelligence? Sure I ought to know best what's going on here—an't
I Resident? "I know what the scoundrel is about, I promise you—hesitate,
therefore, not a moment, but arrest him—accept of nothing but the money,
which I know he can't raise."——Throw him into prison, and I
will support you if complaints are made.
Sup.
Be sure you accept of no bail, nothing of any security whatever, for if you
do, you'll lose it all. The Resident knows what he's about, and it's your
duty to depend upon him.
Res.
Pshaw man! if you delay you'll lose all your debt; so be gone, and about it
directly.
Maz.
Me swear by de great Prophet, it make me heart ach.
[Exit Mazinghi, putting his hand on his head in submission. Resident and Supple exeunt the other side.]
END OF ACT III
