to drag him in the horse-pond; they bind him hand and foot, and thrust him into the dog-kennel; Sir Tunbelly puts his fist under his nose, and threatens to knock his teeth down his throat. Afterwards, having discovered the impostor, he says, "My lord, will you cut his throat? or shall I? . . . Here, give me my dog-whip. . . . Here, here, here, let me beat out his brains, and that will decide all." He raves, and wants to fall upon Tom Fashion with his fists. Such is the country gentleman, of high birth and a farmer, boxer and drinker, brawler and beast. There steams up from all these scenes a smell of cooking, the noise of riot, the odour of a dunghill. Like father like child. What a candid creature is Miss Hoyden! She grumbles to herself, "It's well I have a husband a-coming, or, ecod, I'd marry the baker; I would so! Nobody can knock at the gate, but presently I must be locked up; and here's the young greyhound bitch can run loose about the house all the day long, she can; 'tis very well." 2 When the nurse tells her her future husband has arrived, she leaps for joy, and kisses the old woman. "O Lord! I'll go put on my laced smock, though I'm whipped till the blood run down my heels for't." Tom comes himself, and asks her if she will be his wife. "Sir, I never disobey my father in anything but eating of green gooseberries." But your father wants to wait . . . "a whole week." "A week!-Why I shall be an old woman by that time." "4 I cannot give all her answers. There is the spirit of a goat behind her kitchen-talk. She marries Tom secretly on the spot, and the chaplain 1 Vanbrugh's Relapse, v. 5. VOL II. "3 2 Ibid. iii. 4. 4 Ibid. iv. 1. 2 E wishes them many children. "Ecod," she says, "with all my heart! the more the merrier, I say; ha! nurse!"1 But Lord Foppington, her real intended, turns up, and Tom makes off. Instantly her plan is formed. She bids the nurse and chaplain hold their tongues. "If you two will be sure to hold your tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this lord too." "What," says nurse, "two husbands, my dear?" "Why, you had three, good nurse, you may hold your tongue." She nevertheless takes a dislike to the lord, and very soon; he is not well made, he hardly gives her any pocket-money; she hesitates between the two. "If I leave my lord, I must leave my lady too; and when I rattle about the streets in my coach, they'll only say, There goes mistress-mistress-mistress what? What's this man's name I have married, nurse?" Squire Fashion." "Squire Fashion is it ?-Well, 'Squire, that's better than nothing.3. . . Love him! why do you think I love him, nurse? ecod, I would not care if he were hanged, so I were but once married to him!--Nothat which pleases me, is to think what work I'll make when I get to London; for when I am a wife and a lady both, nurse, ecod, I'll flaunt it with the best of 'em.' But she is cautious all the same. She knows that her father has his dog's whip handy, and that he " 4 1 Vanbrugh's Relapse, iv. 4. The character of the nurse is excellent. Tom Fashion thanks her for the training she has given Hoyden: "Alas, all I can boast of is, I gave her pure good milk, and so your honour would have said, an you had seen how the poor thing sucked it.—Eh! God's blessing on the sweet face on't! how it used to hang at this poor teat, and suck and squeeze, and kick and sprawl it would, till the belly on't was so full, it would drop off like a leech." This is good, even after Juliet's nurse in Shakspeare. 2 Ibid. iv. 6. will give her a good shake. "But, d'ye hear?" she says to the nurse. "Pray take care of one thing: when the business comes to break out, be sure you get between me and my father, for you know his tricks: he'll knock me down."1 Here is your true moral ascendency. For such a character, there is no other, and Sir Tunbelly does well to keep her tied up, and to let her taste a discipline of daily stripes.2 3 IX. All Let us accompany this modest character to town, and place her with her equals in fine society. these artless ladies do wonders there, both in the way of actions and maxims. Wycherley's Country Wife gives us the tone. When one of them happens to be partly honest, she has the manners and the boldness of a hussar in petticoats. Others seem born with the souls of courtesans and procuresses. "If I marry my lord Aimwell," says Dorinda, "there will be title, place, and precedence, the Park, the play, and the drawingroom, splendour, equipage, noise, and flambeaux.-Hey, my lady Aimwell's servants there! Lights, lights to the stairs! My lady Aimwell's coach put forward! Stand by, make room for her ladyship!—Are not these things moving?" 4 She is candid, and so are others-Corinna, Miss Betty, Belinda, for example. Belinda say's to her aunt, whose virtue is tottering: "The sooner you 1 Vanbrugh's Relapse, v. 5. 2 See also the character of a young stupid blockhead, Squire Humphrey. (Vanbrugh's Journey to London). He has only a single idea, to be always eating. 3 Wycherley's Hippolita; Farquhar's Silvia. 4 Farquhar's Beaux Stratagem, iv. 1. capitulate the better."1 Further on, when she has decided to marry Heartfree, to save her aunt who is compromised, she makes a confession of faith which promises well for the future of her new spouse; "Were't not for your affair in the balance, I should go near to pick up some odious man of quality yet, and only take poor Heartfree for a gallant."2 These young ladies are clever, and in all cases apt to follow good instruction. Listen to Miss Prue: "Look you here, madam, then, what Mr. Tattle has given me.-Look you here, cousin, here's a snuff-box: nay, there's snuff in't;-here, will you have any?-Oh, good! how sweet it is!-Mr. Tattle is all over sweet; his peruke is sweet, and his gloves are sweet, and his handkerchief is sweet, pure sweet, sweeter than roses. Smell him, mother, madam, I mean. He gave me this ring for a kiss. . . . Smell, cousin; he says, he'll give me something that will make my smocks smell this way. Is not it pure?— It's better than lavender, mun.-I'm resolved I won't let nurse put any more lavender among my smocks— ha, cousin?" It is the silly chatter of a young magpie, who flies for the first time. Tattle, alone with her, tells her he is going to make love: "Miss Prue. Well; and how will you make love to me? come, I long to have you begin. Must I make love too? you must tell me how. Tattle. You must let me speak, miss, you must not speak first; I must ask you questions, and you must answer. Miss P. What, is it like the catechism-come then, ask me. T. D'ye think you can love me? Miss P. Yes. 1 Vanbrugh's Provoked Wife, iii. 3. 3 Congreve's Love for Love, ii. 10. 2 Ibid. v. 2. T. Pooh! pox! you must not say yes already; I shan't care a farthing for you then in a twinkling. Miss P. What must I say then? T. Why, you must say no, or you believe not, or you can't tell. Miss P. Why, must I tell a lie then? T. Yes, if you'd be well-bred;-all well-bred persons lie. Besides, you are a woman, you must never speak what you think your words must contradict your thoughts; but your actions may contradict your words. So, when I ask you, if you can love me, you must say no, but you must love me too. If I tell you you are handsome, you must deny it, and flatter you. But you must think yourself more charming than I speak you and like me, for the beauty which I say you have, as much as if I had it myself. If I ask you to kiss me, you must be angry, but you must not refuse me. say I Miss P. O Lord, I swear this is pure !-I like it better than our old-fashioned country way of speaking one's mind; and must not you lie too? T. Hum!—Yes; but you must believe I speak truth. Miss P. O Gemini! well, I always had a great mind to tell lies; but they frighted me, and said it was a sin. T. Well, my pretty creature; will you make me happy by giving me a kiss? Miss P. No, indeed; I'm angry at you. (Runs and kisses him.) T. Hold, hold, that's pretty well;-but you should not have given it me, but have suffered me to have taken it. Miss P. Well, we'll do it again. T. With all my heart. Now, then, my little angel. (Kisses her.) Miss P. Pish! T. That's right-again, my charmer! (Kisses again.) |