Starke, Mariana. The Sword of Peace; or, a Voyage of Love. Eds. Thomas C. Crochunis and Michael Eberle-Sinatra, with an Introduction by Jeanne Moskal and a Headnote by Jeffrey N. Cox. British Women Playwrights around 1800. 15 August 1999.

Act V

Scene 1

[SCENE, discovers Mrs. Tartar lolling on a Sopha. Enter Jeffreys with a Note in his Hand.]

Jeffreys [bowing.]
MADAM, I have brought a note from my young ladies.

Mrs. Tartar
Lord! a note! Cou'd not they have sent a message? I can't take the trouble to read, not I—there, put it down. [Points to a table.]

Jef.
I was order'd to deliver it into your own hands directly, Madam.

Mrs. Tar.
I'm sure if it requires an answer, I shan't fatigue myself to send one.

Jef.
I don't know, Madam; but those were my orders.

Mrs. Tar.
Really you people from England imagine one has the strength of one's elephants—continually troubling one thus with such fatigues.—Well, if this note must be read—do you read it—that is, man—if you can read. [with a contemptuous look.]

Jef. [looking at her meaningly, and making a horrid wry face]
Damn me if the soap-boilers oil don't rise in my throat now. [Aside] Why, yes, Madam—I can read—spelling it with a few A-by-self-A's, and I-by-self-I's, mayhap.

Mrs. Tar.
Prithee do, then.

Jef.
Won't you please, Madam, to break the seal? [Offering the note on a waiter.]

Mrs. Tar.
Lord, how troublesome!—here—there.

[Takes the note, half breaks the seal, and lets it fall on the ground. Jeffreys picks up the note and reads.]

'The Miss Moreton's compliments to Mrs. Tartar, and as she has so often complain'd of the trouble they are continually giving her, have accepted of Mr. and Mrs. Northcote's kind and pressing invitations to make their house their home, during their stay in India, and shall therefore not trouble Mrs. Tartar any farther.'

Mrs. Tar. [rises in a passion, snatches the note out of his hands]
Begone.

Jef. [bowing]
In the whiff of a tallow candle, Madam. [grinning] "Ecod we've made a fine blaze here, and now, as the saying is, I'll e'en run away by the light on't."

[Aside, and exit in haste]

Mrs. Tar.
Was there ever any thing like this? Oh! I could—and to have expos'd myself thus before their servant! Intolerable!—and that brute, Supple—a fine note I've had from him, too. [taking his note from the table.] Yes, yes, you may come and explain, if you please, Sir, but by marrying Louisa you secure her fortune, and then are no longer my dependent—[puts the note in her pocket.] An ungrateful fellow—I plac'd him about the Resident, merely to manage and make our own "joint" advantage of him, by which I have been the making of the wretch—and now to be left, truly, for such a paltry chit as this is!

[Enter Supple.]

Sup.
Madam, I am quite astonish'd at your note; and so unusual to your good sense.

Mrs. Tar.
Supple, you know you're a hypocrite; but you shou'd also remember you cannot impose upon me! pretend constancy to me, truly, when you want to marry Louisa.

Sup.
Don't I tell you, I don't care three pins for the girl; 'tis her fortune, and that you know, and how can such a poor, unsuspecting, meek-spirited thing, as she is—

Mrs. Tar.
And Eliza, too, is a meek-spirited fool, is she? What does you worship's sagacious cunning intend to do with her?

Sup.
Oh she is so manageable, I think the best way is to let her run away with Edwards—besides that prevents her marrying the Resident.

Mrs. Tar.
A pretty way of preventing it, truly! no; she has insulted me too much for me not to prevent her happiness at any rate.

Sup.
Nay, that's too ungenerous! so that we get quit of her, that's enough.

Mrs. Tar.
The virtuous Mr. Supple! [in contempt] you know you hav'nt a good principle in your whole composition—and to pretend——

Sup.
Well, well, I acknowledge—but prudence, you know—prudence shou'd——

Mrs. Tar.
Cowardice! cowardice! that's your prudence, Supple. "Has'nt it prevented your doing a thousand glorious things I wou'd have had you attempted?"

Sup.
Come, come, don't let you and I quarrel—it is for your interest, as well as mine, I shou'd marry Louisa.

Mrs. Tar.
Lookye, Supple, I won't bear this—at your peril attempt marrying Louisa—you know my power to expose you, and by Heavens nothing shall hinder me. [Exit.]

Sup.
There she goes;—this it is to be in the hand of such a fury—I must devise some means to rid myself of this slavery; and then the news brought by the ships just arrived, may make it convenient to cut with the Resident—and so I may still make my fortune in another quarter, and get rid of them both at once. And so now for David Northcote. Oh! I shall make short work with him; he is, or pretends to be, so honest himself, that it is quite out of character for him to suspect other people. [Exit.]

[SCENE, Mr. Northcote's. Enter Resident and Northcote.]

Res.
Upon my soul, Mr. Northcote, this is too much; damn it, Sire, I suppose you depend on your fine character, and so think you may do any thing, Sire.—I must insist upon the Miss Moreton's returning to Mrs. Tartar directly.

North.
You must excuse me, Mr. Resident; I shall not part with my fair visitors again, I assure you.

Res.
Sir! wha—what do you mean? Sir—Sir—are they not under my protection?

North.
You have only to give them a proper account of their fortunes, "for they are their own mistresses in everything else entirely;" and as you had plac'd them where they were very disagreeably situated, I have accommodated them in my own house; that's all, Sir.

Res.
That's all, Sir! Damn your composure, Sir.—This is always your way; meddling with every thing that don't concern you—I wonder where Supple is—what do you think he will say to it, Sir?

North.
An insignificant puppy.—What's such a fellow to me, Sir?

Res.
Lookye, Mr. Northcote, if you continue to go on in this stile, Sir, I must write home; there is no going on thus; "for what with your pretended benevolence and generosity, and stuff," Sir, you set the whole settlement in an uproar! There's no governing them—blacks, whites, Gentoos, and Hindoos, all alike running made after you, and your vagaries, truly.

North.
Yes, Mr. Resident, I feel for human nature, of whatever colour or description; I feel for the name and character of an Englishman. "I feel neither the power of gold, prejudice, nor partiality; and where the lives and properties, or even happiness, of others, are concerned, I have ever regarded the impulse of humanity."

[Enter Supple.]

Sup.
Your servant, Gentlemen. [Bowing very gravely.]

Res.
So, Supple, here has this gentleman persuaded the Miss Moretons, truly, to leave Mrs. Tartar's house and reside at his.

Sup.
I am very glad of it, Sir. [Bows.]

Res.
Glad of it! Zounds! What do you mean, Supple? I tell you I am very angry at it.

Sup.
You had better not, Sir; you had better not.—[Speaking mysteriously; coming nearer to the Resident, and speaking lower.]—Sir, there is a ship just arrived from England.

Res.
Well, Sir! damn it! and what then? What's a ship just arrived from England to do with "pretty" Mr. Northcote's "here" having stole away the Miss Moretons from my protection? Damn it, Supple, I won't put up with it; I insist upon their returning to Mrs. Tartar's—I insist upon it.

Sup.
You had better not, Sir; indeed you had better not.

Res.
Lookye, Supple, I will be my own master.—An't I Resident? Why, heydey! an't I Resident, I say? [In a passion.]

Sup. [bowing very gravely and low.]
No, Sir, you are not Resident.

Res.
Heydey! why art mad, Supple! why what's this?

Sup.
I am sorry, Sir, for your sake, to inform you, that the ship just arriv'd has brought out orders for Mr. Northcote to supersede you, Sir, as Resident of this settlement.

Res.
Northcote! Northcote supersede me? he!

[Walks about disturb'd.]

North.
Lookye, Supple, I know of old, a ship seldom arrives but it gives occasion to your inventive faculties.—But in this you must be cautious; this is too serious a matter young man. [Sternly.]

Sup.
With humble submission, Sir, I hope you will not judge me from mine enemies' misrepresentations.—What I say is fact. You, sir, are Resident now; and I hope, Sir, as my chief dependance is upon my place, you will not discontinue me, Sir, as secretary to the presidency.

North. [looks at him with contempt, without speaking to him.]
I am sorry this news shou'd have been thus abruptly communicated to you, believe me.—[To the Resident.]—I suffer for your feelings as a man—look upon me as your friend. If this is true, every thing in my power you may command.

Res. [surlily.]
Let me alone; I want none of your officious kindness.—But as to you, Supple, I didn't expect this—I didn't expect this from you. [Exit.]

North.
Now I did.—Go, Sir, [to Supple] follow your old master; if I am Resident, my first action shall be, that of banishing you, Mr. Supple, from my councils.

Sup.
Sir—Sir—Sir—I beg—I entreat—

[Attempting to kneel.]

North.
Begone, Sir. If my masters have thought me worthy this honor they have conferr'd on me. I will never forfeit it by countenancing objects I think unworthy. [Exit.]

Sup.
Very well, Sir; but I may find a time to revenge insulting superiority! and depend on it I shall let slip no opportunity for the purpose.

[Exit.]

[SCENE, an open Walk. Enter Jeffreys and Caesar.]

Caesar
O, Massa! I been seek you—come vid me—me tell you such mischief! me hair stand an end.

Jef.
What about Caesar?

Caesar
Oh! bout you sweet ladies! but me faithful heart—you no give liberty to black dog, Massa! no! me heart good—me save you ladies vid me life.

Jef.
Life! I would sacrifice a thousand lives to save theirs.

Caesar
So me too; but that Mrs. Tartar—oh, Mr. Supple tell me such tings!—oh, Mrs. Tartar von devil! poison de dear young lady.

Jef.
Poison! harkye, Caesar! tell me what you mean; if you save my dear young ladies from any danger, I shall never think I can reward you enough.

Caesar
Reward! me no reward, O Massa.—You make poor black free, me never forget dat—me never leave you while me live—me sarve you faith-ly. [Wipes his eyes.]

Jef.
To have gain'd such an honest, faithful heart, I shall return home with more satisfaction, than if I had got money enough to have gone and despised all my poor relations.—But poison, say you, Caesar—stay, here comes Mr. Dormer, you shall tell him the whole business.

[Enter Dormer.]

Dormer [looking at his watch.]
I promis'd, if in time, to return to Mr. Northcote's to dinner.

Jef.
O, Sir!

Caesar
O, Massa!

Dor.
Heydey! What now?

Jef.
O, Sir, Caesar here says something about that hag, Mrs. Tartar, wanting to poison my dear young Ladies—speak, Caesar; what is it? how is it?

Caesar
O, Massa, Massa! she has poison dem—she has poison dem sweet ladies. [Wrings his hands.]

Dor.
Heavens forbid! who—who told you? [In agitation.]

Jef.
Why Mr. Supple told him, he says, Sir; so that I hope it's all a damn'd lie.

Caesar
Massa Supple tell me, Madam Liza dying—Miss Louisa dead.

Dor.
Dead! Louisa dead! Jeffreys, Caesar, follow me to Mr. Northcote's directly. [Exit.]

Jef.
True or false, this story puts me all in a flutter.—But come along, Caesar, and if you don't deserve the cap of liberty—

Caesar
Though black, Massa!

Jef.
Yes, your face is black, but your heart is as white as a snow-ball. [Exeunt.]

[SCENE, Northcote's House. Northcote, Eliza, Edwards.]

Eliza.
My dear Sir, it is impossible for me to express the joy and heart-felt satisfaction I feel at this unexpected promotion!

North.
I am infinitely oblig'd to you.—Indeed it is very unexpected.

Edw.
I am rejoic'd at it, "my dear Madam," not only as it rewards the nobly virtuous—"stand my friend has ever made against the destructive measures pursued here by our late Resident,"—but that it assures our prosperity, "glory and applause" as a nation, "in discountenancing vice, rapacity and oppression."—Now I feel proud, and glory I'm an Englishman—and here comes Dormer, I am sure with the same emotions.

[Enter Dormer, in Distraction.]

Dor.
O, Miss Moreton! are you still alive?—But my Louisa!—the agony of my heart's beyond the power of words.—Deny me not to see her—for oh! I lov'd her! though nothing but this shocking death should ever have torn the secret from my soul.

Edw.
Compose yourself, my friend; this is—

Dor.
Is she not dead? she whom my soul adores? Now—now, Edwards, without suspicion of a mean, an interested motive, I may distractedly avow the love I bore her.

[Enter Louisa.]

Dor.
Heavens! Louisa safe.—[Running up to her.]—O, Madam! forgive my temerity; nothing but the distraction—

Louisa
Mr. Dormer! Eliza! what means all this?

Eliza
Why it means that his heart adores you! which nothing wou'd have forc'd his respect for you to have declared, but his hearing (some how or other) we were both dead.

"[Louisa turns half aside confused.]"

So now, my dear, you may either play off a thousand coquettish resentments before you grant him a pardon, or generously at once confess he has been master of your heart, from the first hour you convers'd with him.—I only just advise you, cousin, as you ought certainly to act as you think proper.

Louisa
My dear, wild cousin, how is that possible now?

Eliza.
Why, in truth, when two such diffident, delicate lovers meet—if it was not for such wild friends as myself, you might love on till doomsday without knowing it! therefore, without more ado, "or any wry faces"—thus let me join your hands——and as the old folks always, so—Heaven bless you both together.—[Shaking her head and speaking very solemn.]—There, is not that right, Mr. Northcote?

North. [Laughing]
Perfectly so, thou dear, lively creature!

Edw.
And no fear now, but our new Resident will ratify it.

North.
What, our sweet, blushing Louisa here, and modest Dormer—Ratify! yes, with the utmost ardour, and happy such a worthy fellow's diffidence has not eclips'd his modest merit.

Edw.
Dormer, I heartily wish you joy!

Dor.
May I dare to hope you will not refuse?

Louisa [Modestly]
It wou'd be ungenerous to retract, Mr. Dormer, what my heart too sensibly approves.

Dor.
Lovely creature! [Kissing her hand]

Eliza.
There's a dear dutiful child.—[Chucks her under the chin.]—"And pray, Dormer, where did you learn this tragical history of poor Louisa and myself?"

"Dor.
From poor Jeffreys and Caesar, who had it from Supple, the same authority on which you were inform'd that my friend Edwards was dying."

North.
That fellow's alike in every thing; made up of falsehood. And now, Eliza, I must acquaint you that, by letters from England, our friend Edwards here, has learnt that his father is no more; but convinc'd of his hard treatment of a worthy son, has, by his last will, done every thing to repair his former unkindness.

Eliza.
Well, then, if I cannot reward the disinterested Edwards, I must e'en be content with the affluent Sir George.

Edw.
Every way, my Eliza contrives to be herself.

Eliza.
Do I? I really thought I had contriv'd to be yours.

[Enter Jeffreys.]

Jef. [With his handkerchief wiping his eyes, and bowing.]
I beg pardon for coming in—but—but Heavens bless your honor's worship's Resident—if—if—[To Northcote.]

Edw.
Heyday, Jeffreys! what, sad in the midst of joy! what's the matter man?

Jef.
Matter, Sir,—my dear sweet ladies alive, and Mr. Northcote made Resident!—the whole place is run wild for joy, Sir—blacks and whites, masters and slaves, half casts and blue casts, Gentoos and Mussulmen, Hindoos and Bramins, officers and soldiers, sailors and captains—and if his honor the Resident don't stop them, they won't have an ounce of gunpowder in the whole garrison.

Edw.
Such influence has goodness and benevolence over all ranks and descriptions.

Jef.
They do nothing but call him father—they keep blessing him and his children; and King George and his children; and their great prophet and his children.

North.
You have an honest heart, Jeffreys—but recover your spirits—and as both your ladies are now, I hope, completely happy, I trust you will be so too.

Jef.
"I beg pardon, but I always suspected Miss Louisa's blushes whenever I announc'd Mr. Dormer;" and I hope, my dear young ladies, as I have always serv'd you faithfully, you won't part with me now.

Eliza.
No, worthy Jeffreys, the only difference we wish to make is, that you consider yourself no longer as a dependant, but an humble friend whose faithful services demand every reward in our power to bestow.

Jef.
My dear, dear mistress, don't talk so; for I never shall recover my spirits—I have been us'd to laugh and make others laugh all my life long—so spare me, for I am too happy already.

North.
Come, my worthy friends, let us join the general joy—a feast of soul, of which, I humbly hope, I may without vanity partake.

Edw.
You may, indeed, Sir—thus, by the noble exertions of one generous, exalted character, are all our difficulties remov'd—a whole settlement is made happy, as well as ourselves, by the virtues of David Northcote!

THE END

Epilogue

Written by George Colman, Jun, Esq.

Spoken by Miss FARREN.

How prone is man to quarrel with plain sense!
Suspecting harmless words of foul offence.
Too soon, alas! our minds to frailty leaning,
Accuse the simple phrase of double meaning.
E'en the first man alive, with spleen devour'd,
His once sweet temper with an apple sour'd,
Grew sulky with his friends,—a cross old sinner!—
If they but mention'd pippins after dinner.
Nay, in these days, there's scarce a City Prig
Who dares confess his fondness for a wig;
Lest he shou'd find, in his same touchy town,
Some angry tory who wou'd knock him down.
Are there not some among you, then, who cease
To smile, when hearing of a Sword of Peace?
Spmak, ye Militia Captains! Train Bands, speak!
Think ye, 'gainst you our Author wrote in pique?—
Dumb! like your swords, unus'd to face the light!
Speak, then, Sir Matthew Plumb, the addressing City Knight!
You who have seen the sword—ah, great beholder!
Have seen it, flaming, peaceful o'er your shoulder.
Speak not, ye beaux! we cannot move your passion;
The sword with you has long been out of fashion.
For now each sparring beau in flannel stands;
To muffled gauntlets trusts his chicken hands;
Learns, generously, how to bruise—not slay men!
And justifies his honor—on the dray-men!
Soon shall we see, thank Heaven! the extirpation
Of barbarous duelling, throughout the nation;
Soon shall we read, instead of running through,
That, in Hyde Park, two nobles have set to;
That Lord met Lord—that each, no Caesar holder,
Brought a Right Honorable bottle holder!
No carte and tierce—but bruise on bruise shall rise,
Till blows, not death, have clos'd the heroes eyes!—
But that our Sword of Peace may frighten no man,
Know, brave gallants! 'tis weilded by a woman.
Let it not, then, with others, be abolish'd,
'Tis harmless, and, she hopes, not quite unpolish'd—
"Such as it is, we can't be apprehensive
That this, our Sword of Peace, will prove a sword offensive."