not to venture? is a great sum. I own it. But do you think I ought | me, I would—But it's no matter. He sha'n't see a tear that I shed, nor hear the least sigh that I heave. Enter the WIDOW WARREN, Sulky. Venture what? Dornton. To-to take it from our bank? [ton. Jenny. (Looking, admiring, and walking round Dornton. For-for the-the relief of Harry Dorn-her.), Well, ma'am--I declare you're a pictar Sulky. What you please. Take all. What is it to me? Dornton. Nay, but, Mr. Sulky, you surely don't see the thing in the right light. Sulky. I can starve, like the rest. Dornton. (With snappish haste.) Very well, Mr. Sulky. Very well! I perceive you can be interested, and-and Sulky. And what? Dornton. Very well, Mr. Sulky. Very well. Sulky. can stare bankruptcy in the face as steadfastly as you can. Dornton. Ay, ay! No doubt! The world is all alike! I am an old fool, and so shall live and die. Sulky. Why do you ask my advice? Take the money! Empty the coffers! Pour it all into his hat! Give him guineas to play at chuck-farthing, and bank-bills to curl his hair. Dornton. Very well, Mr. Sulky.-Friendship, generosity, a sense of justice? Oh! it's all a farce! Sulky. Humph! Dornton. (Rings.) Very well, sir! Very well! Sophia. It's very well. Jenny. With her ribands and ringlets stuck about and dangle-ating down her back; and all herSophia. It's very well. It's all very well; but it will be no wedding. Jenny. (Aside.) I hope not. Sophia. He told her to her face that he loved me, and offered to give her the money back. He'll never have her. And if he does I don't care.-I know I shall die broken-hearted, but I don't care. I'll tell all to my dear grandma', for I'll not stay in this wicked city.-No! He sha'n't see me pine away. I know my ghost will haunt him; but I can't help it. I never wished him any harm, and had he but been true-hearted and have waited for Widow. Do you think I look tolerably, Jenny? (Walking and surveying herself.)-Shall I do execution? What is the matter, child? Sophia. Mark my words, he'll never have you. Sophia. He never will. (Knocking heard at the street door,) Widow. Run, Jenny, see who it is. [Exit Sophia. (Much agitated.) No. I will stay here. Jenny. Here's an elderly gentleman, ma'am asks to speak to you. Widow. Will you begone, miss? Sophia. Since it is not he, I don't want to stay. I only want to look him in the face once more. [Exit. Widow. How is he dressed? Jenny. In grey, ma'am. Widow. In grey? (Considering.) Widow. In dark grey? (Hoping.) Jenny. Yes, ma'am. Widow. (Eagerly.) Does he look like a parson, Jenny? Jenny. Why, ma'am, he is a soberly, smug, jobation-looking man enough. Widow. Let him be shewn in. [Exit Jenny.] I Enter JENNY, introducing Mr. DORNTON. [me? Dornton. I presume you are unacquainted with [sir Widow. (With her fan before her face.) YouYou come on the part of young Mr. Dornton. Dornton. (Surprised.) I do! Widow. (Aside.) It is the parson!-Would you be so indulgent as to be seated, sir? Dornton. Excuse me, madam. Widow. Would you be pleased to take any refreshment, sir? Dornton. Madam! Widow. A morsel of seed-cake, a French biscuit, a bit of orange-loaf, a glass of constantia, or a jelly? -I know these little cordial comforts are agreeable consolations to gentlemen of your cloth. Dornton. (Surveying himself.) Cloth! Widow. No offence, I hope? I participate in them myself. Dornton. Hem! No doubt! Widow. You are acquainted with Mr. Dornton? Dornton. Why-Yes-I am I believe one of his oldest acquaintance. Widow. Then I dare say you have a great regard for him? Dornton. Hem!-Yes-I-had a-sort of a friendship for him even before he was born. Widow. Sir!-Oh-you are intimate with the family? Dornton. Yes-yes, madam! [yet! Dornton. Hem-(Shrugs.) Why-Though I have kept him company from the day of his birth to this very hour, they tell me I don't know him Widow Ay indeed! Is he so odd? Dornton. Sometimes-To my great regret, I have sometimes found him a very absurd old gentleman! Widow. I am sorry for it!-Because as I am soon to become-hymeneally-his intimate-rela- Widow. It's natural, sir. (Simpering.). Dornton. Ha! I dare not say too much in his favour. Widow. Nay, though I have a vast-hum-haregard for young Mr. Dornton-I own I have no great predilection of opinion for the father! (Nodding very significantly.) Dornton. (Suddenly.) Nor he for you, madam! Dornton. I am sure so! Widow. Nay but-Mr. Dornton!--sir!-(Ready to cry.) Dornton. I must beg you will take it. Widow. I do not want the money, sir! Filthy money-(Whimpering restrained.) And as to what I said, though you have arrested Mr. MilfordHarry. Ha! (Starts, considers, and looks at his watch.) Widow. I am sorry-I beg your pardon-And if Mr. Dornton Dornton. Why don't you speak, Harry? Where are you going? (Harry Dornton crosses hastily.) Widow. I warrant, sir, he is, as you say, a very Come back, Harry!-Stay, I say! precise acrimonious person! Dornton, I said no such thing, madam! Widow. Ah! A little caution, sir, to be sure, becomes gentlemen of your cloth. Dornton. Cloth again!-I don't know what you mean by my cloth! but Mr. Dornton, madam, is little older than yourself; nor does he think himself half so repugnant. Widow. Sir! Dornton. (Recollecting himself.) Madam!-I-I beg your pardon!—I—(Bowing.) Widow. (Knocking heard.) Oh! here I dare say comes the bridegroom! Dornton. (Aside.) My curst vivacity! I can never tell her after this who I am. (Walks up the stage.) Enter HARRY DORNTON in haste. Widow. (Eagerly.) Oh, you rover! Harry. Well, my kind widow! (Mr. Dornton turns round at hearing his son's voice, and gradually approaches.) My loving, compassionate widow! I am come post haste to cast myself once more on your bounty! Widow. Hush! [aid! Harry. To entreat instant commiseration, and Widow. Hem! Hem! (Aloud.). Harry. I have not a minute to spare! Widow. (Whispers.) He's here! He's come! waspish, tetchy-Hem!-(Aloud.) Your friend has been here some time, Mr. Dornton! Harry. My friend! What friend? Widow. Your friend the clergyman. (Pointing to Mr. Dornton.) Harry. Clergyman!-You-(Turning, sees his father at his elbow.)-My father! Widow. His father! (A pause.) Dornton. Well, Harry, why do you look so blank? I am glad you are here. Your coming and the mutual sincerity with which this lady and I have just spoken our sentiments, will save all circumlocution. At present we understand each other. Widow. Sir-I— Dornton. Oh, madam! never retract.-Let us continue the like plain honest dealing— Widow. But-sir-Mr Dornton's affection--- Dornton. Harry! I know your motives! Will never forget them! But the cause of them has ceased. Harry. Sir!-beware! No false compassion! Remember not the vile reprobate that was your son! I spurn at existence that is coupled with your misery. Dornton. Harry! Our danger is over. Dornton. Mr. Sulky is a worthy man! His rich uncle is dead, and has left him sole heir. Our books too have been examined, and exceed our best hopes. Harry. My Dornton. Here is your money, madam. (Offer ing it.) Harry. My father saved--? Tol de rol-! is at stake. Harry. I cannot stay!-I must fly!-My honour [Exit. Dornton. (Alarmed.) His honour!-His honour at stake!-Here, here, madam!—(Offering money.) Widow. Nay, sir Dornton. 'Sdeath, madam, take your money.[Exit. Widow. Cruel-usage!-Faithless men-Blind -Stupid! I'll forsake and forswear the whole sex. (Burst into tears.) Enter JENNY, with great glee, on tip-toe, as if she had been on the watch. Jenny. Ma'am! ma'am! Mr. Goldfinch, ma'am! Widow. Hey! Mr. Goldfinch?-Was that what you said, Jenny? (Brightens up.) Where? Jenny. Below, ma'am. I persuaded him to come up, but he is quite surly. Widow. Oh! he is coming? Well! I think I will see him-Yes-I think I will. Jenny. I always told you, ma'am, Mr. Goldfinch for me. Widow. Did you? Jenny. But he says he will have your written promise this very night, or never speak to you more. I hear him. (Adjusting the Widow's dress.) La, ma'am, you had better give a few toucheshereabout. Your eyes will have double the spirit and fire. Widow. Will they? Enter GOLDFINCH. Gold. Where's the dowager? [Exit. Jenny. Hush! Mind what I said to you-It is too late now for a licence, so be sure get the promise. Don't flinch. Gold. Me flinch? Game to the back bone! Re-enter the WIDOW WARREN. Gold. Are you cured of the tantarums? Gold. Am I a gentleman now? [Exit. Gold. Look you, widow, I know your tricks.Skittish! Won't answer the whip! Run out of the course! Take the rest! So give me your promise. Widow. My promise—! Gold. Signed and sealed. Widow. Naughty man.-You shan't—I won't let Gold. I'm off. Widow. Mr. Goldfinch! (Calling.) Widow. You shall have the promise! Gold. Oh, ho! Why, then I pull up. (Returning.) Widow. Barbarous youth; could you leave me? | Dornton walks up the stage.) He has been at some but I must send to Mr. Silky. gaming-house, lost all, quarrelled, and come here to put a miserable end to a miserable existence. Oh! who would be a father! (With extreme anguish.) Enter Waiter. Gold. No, no; let me have the promise directly. I'll go myself to Silky. Widow. Will you, Mr. Goldfinch? Gold. Will I not? Take a hack, mount the box. Hayait! Scud away for the old scoundrel. I'm a deep one; know the course every inch. I'm the lad for the widow. That's your sort! Widow. Saucy man; I'll be very angry with you. Gold. Soon be back. Widow. Adieu! Fly swiftly, ye minutes. Gold. But I must have the promise first. Widow. I will go and write it. Come, dissembler, come. [Exit languishing. Gold. She's an old courser. But I knew I should take her at the double. Enter MILFORD. Milford. So, Charles; where's the widow? Gold. I'm the lad; all's concluded; going post for old Silky. (Offers to go at every speech, but is eagerly stopped by Milford.) Milford. Silky did you say? Gold. I'm to pay the miserly rascal fifty thousand pounds down. But mum; that's a secret. Milford. You are raving. Gold. Tellee, he has her on the hip; she can't marry without his consent. Milford. But why? Gold. Don't know. The close old rogue won't tell. Has got some deed, he says. Some writing. Milford. Indeed! Gold. Yes; but it's a a secret. I shall be a higher fellow than ever, Jack. Go to the second spring meeting-take you with me-come down a few to the sweaters and trainers-the knowing ones-the lads. Get into the secret-lay it on thick-seven hundred to five Favourite against the field. Done ! I'll do it again! Done! Five times over. Ditto repeated. Done, done. Off they go!-winner lays by-pretends to want footOdds rise high-take 'em-winner whispered lame-lags after-odds higher-and higher. Take 'em-creeps up-breathes 'em over the flat-works 'em up hill-passes the distance post-still only second—betting chair in an uproar-neck to neck -lets him out-shows him the whip-shoots by like an arrow-oh! d-e a hollow thing. That's [Exit. Milford. Fifty thousand to Silky for his consent because of some instrument, some writing? If it should be the-? It must; by heaven, it must. [Exit hastily. your sort! Waiter. Then I am right. Mr. Milford, sir, has sent me with this note. [Exit. Harry. (Advancing.) It is for me, sir. Dornton. How do you know, Harry? Harry. Sir, I am certain. I must begDornton. This is no time for ceremony. (Reads.) Dear Harry, forgive the provocation I have given you; forgive the wrong I have done your father.Me-I will submit to any disgrace rather than lift my hand against your life. I would have come and apologised even on my knees, but am prevented. J. MILFORD. Harry! What? What is this? Tell me, tell me. (Stands a moment, crumpling the latter.) Why, Is it in paying Milford's debts you have expended Harry. It is, sir. [the money ? Dornton. (After raising his clasped hands in rapture as if to return thanks, suddenly suppresses his feelings.) But how had he wronged me? Why did you come here to fight him? Harry, Sir--He—he spoke disrespecfully of you. (A pause.) able any longer to contain himself he covers them with Dornton. (With his eyes fixed on his son, till un one hand and stretches out the other.) Harry! Harry. (Taking his father's hand but turning his back likewise to conceal his agitation.) My father! Dornton. Harry! Harry! (With struggling affection.) (A pause.) [ford. Harry. Dear sir, let us fly to console poor MilDornton. What you will, Harry; do with me what you will. Oh! who would not be a father! [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The House of the Widow Warren. Enter MILFORD and MR. SULKY. Milford. The fool, Goldfinch himself, informed me, sir, that Silky is to receive fifty thousand pounds for his consent. Sulky. Fifty thousand! Zounds! Why then the old scoundrel must have got possession of the will. Milford. Which is indubitably meant to be destroyed. Goldfinch is just returned with Silky. They are now with the widow, all in high glee, and are coming up here immediately, no doubt to settle the business in private. Sulky. What can be done? Milford. We must hide ourselves somewhere, and spring upon them. Sulky. I hate hiding; it's deceit, and deceit is the resource of a rascal. Milford. But there is no avoiding it. We cannot get legal assistance in time. Here are two closets, do you go into one, and I'll shut myself up in the other. We shall hear what they are about, and can burst upon them at the proper moment. Sulky. Well, if it must be so; but it's a vile, paltry refuge. Milford. I hear them coming; make haste. [Exeunt Sulky and Milford into the closets. Enter SILKY, WIDOW, and GOLDFINCH. Sil. Ha, ha, ha! I told you, madam, I should hear from you when you wanted me; I knew it must come to that. But you are a lucky man, Mr. Goldfinch, and I'm a lucky man; ay, and you are a lucky woman too, madam. We are all in luck. Gold. Ay, d-e, old one, you have been concerned in many a good thing in your time. Sil. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! To be sure I have. I must provide for my family, Mr. Goldfinch. Widow. It is indeed a fortunate event. Do you not participate my raptures, Mr. Goldfinch? Gold. To be sure; it's a deep scheme; it's knowing a thing or two; eh? old one? Pigeoning the greenhorns. Sil. All so safe too, so snug. I am so pleased, and so happy; it's all our own; not a soul will know of it but our three selves. Gold. Oh, yes; one more, old one. Sil. Lord! Mr. Goldfinch, don't terrify me. Widow. To be sure, it must be owned you are a shocking old rogue, Mr. Silky. But there is no doing without you. So make haste with your deeds and your extortions; for really we should be very glad to be rid of your company. Dornton. Are you here, Mr. Silky! Sulky. Yes; there's the honest, grateful, friendly Mr. Silky! who would betray his friends, plunder the living, and defraud the dead, for the ease of his conscience, and to provide for his family. Gold. Old one! You're done up! Sulky, And here is the girlish old coquette, who would rob her daughter, and leave her husband's son to rot in a dungeon, that she might marry the first fool she could find. Gold. Widow you are dished. (Sulky examines the will.) Lost your last chance. Dornton. A broken gamester, nurtured in idleness, ignorance, and dissipation; whose ridings, racings, and drivings are over, and whose whole train of horses, dogs, curricles, phaetons, and fooleries must come to the hammer, immediately, is no Sophia. Oh, la! [great loss. Dornton. I knew your father, sir: 'tis happy for Sil. Well, well, I'm ready; I'll not long inter-him that he is dead; if you will forsake these courses rupt your amorous haste. I am a man of business; and apply to trade-(Gold. starts from the table.) I expected how it would be, and have a legal in- Gold. Damn trade! Who's for the spring meetstrument here, ready drawn up by my own hand; ing? Cross 'em and wind 'em! Seven to five you which, when it is signed and sealed, will make all don't name the winner! I'm for life and a curricle! Widow. But where is the will? [safe. A cut at the caster, and the long odds! Damn trade. Sil. Oh, I have it. First, however, let us be se- The four aces, a back hand, and a lucky nick! I'm cure. (Locks both the chamber doors; is going to a deep one! That's your sort. [Exit. read, but looks round, sees the closet doors, and with great anxiety and cunning, locks them too.) Gold. You're an old trader in sin. There's no being too deep for you. [finch? Sil. Ah, ha, ha, ha! Do you think so, Mr. GoldGold. But I should like to see you on your deathbed. (A blow from one of the closets.) Sil. Bless my soul! What's that? Gold. Zounds! odd enough. I believe he's coming for you before your time. Widow. It was very strange. Sil. I declare I am all of a tremble! Sulky. And now, madamWidow. Keep off, monster! You smell of malice, cruelty, and persecution. Sulky. No, madam: I smell of honesty. A drug you nauseate, but with which you must forcibly be dosed! I have glanced over the will, and find I have the power. Widow. Let me go, goblin! You are a hideous person, and I hate the sight of you! Your breast is flint. Flint! Unfeeling Gorgon, and I abominate [Exit. you. Sophia. Nay, you are a kind, good cross old soul; Widow. Come, come, let us get the shocking and I am sure you will forgive my poor ma'. We business over. Where is the will? Gold. Don't shake so, man. Sil. Well, well. First sign the bond. (Widow and Goldfinch going to sign, another knock heard.) Lord have mercy upon me! Gold. I smell sulphur. Widow. Save me, Mr. Goldfinch. Gold. Here it is. (Laying it on the table.) Gold. My hair stands an end. Widow. Violent knocking at both closets, and at the doors.) Save me, Mr. Goldfinch! Protect me! Ah! (Shrieks. Sulky and Milford burst open the closets, and seize on the bond and promise, then open the chamber doors.) Enter JENNY, with lights, and SOPHIA, HARRY Sophia. Dear, ma', what's the matter? Milford. So, gentlemen. You are a pretty pair of Sulky. And you are a very worthy lady. [knaves. Widow. Don't talk to me, man! Don't talk to me! I shall never recover my senses again. Harry. What has happened, gentlemen? How came you thus all locked up together? ought all to forget and forgive. Õught not we, Mr. Dornton? Harry. (With rapture, and looking to his father.) Do you hear her, sír? Dornton. Harry has told me of your innocent, pure, and unsuspecting heart. I love you for having called me an ugly monster. Sophia. (To Harry.) La! Mr. Dornton, how could you Sulky. Harry, Give me your hand. You have a generous and a noble nature; but your generosity would have proved more pernicious than even your dissipation. No misfortunes, no not the beggary and ruin of a father, could justify so unprincipled a marriage. Dornton. And now (to Mr. Sulky) my friend! Harry. My Sulky. Who! If you wish to get another word from me to-night, have done. (Turning to Silky.) I hate fawning. Sil. Ah, Mr. Sulky! you will have your humour. Sulky. The undiscriminating generosity of this young man supported you in your day of distress; for which, serpent-like, you turned to sting your preserver. Sil. Ah! you will have your humour. Sulky. Yes; and it is my humour to see that your villainy shall be exposed in its true colours. Hypocrisy, falsehood, and fraud, are your familiars. To screen your avarice, you made it believed that this gentleman had been the cause of lodging the detainders, and had done the dirty work of which even you were ashamed. But the creditors shall receive their full demand. Dornton. The proposal is just. Listen to that worthy man; and if you can, be honest with a good grace. Every thing will then be readily adjusted, and I hope to the satisfaction of all parties. [Exeunt omnes. 3 AN OPERA, IN THREE ACTS.-BY JOHN GAY. 2 ACT I. SCENE I.-Peachum's House. that I'll save her from transportation, for I can get more by her staying in England. Filch. Betty hath brought more goods to our PEACHUM sitting at a table, with a large book of lock this year, than any five of the gang; and, in accounts before him. AIR. PEACHUM. Through all the employments of life, Thinks his trade is as honest as mine. A lawyer's is an honest employment; so is mine. Like me, too, he acts in a double capacity; both against rogues, and for them: for 'tis but fitting, that we should protect and encourage cheats, since we live by them. Enter FILCH. truth, 'tis pity to lose so good a customer. Peach. If none of the gang takes her off, she may, in the common course of business, live a twelvemonth longer. I love to let women 'scape. A good sportsman always lets the hen-partridges fly, because the breed of the game depends upon them. Besides, here the law allows us no reward: there is nothing to be got by the death of women-except our wives. Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine woman! Twas to her I was obliged for my education. To say a bold word, she has trained up more young fellows to the business than the gaming-table. Peach. Truly, Filch, thy observation is right. We and the surgeons are more beholden to women, than all the professions besides. AIR.-FILCH. 'Tis woman that seduces all mankind! By her we first were taught the wheedling arts; Her very eyes can cheat; when most she is kind, For her, like wolves by night, we roam for prey, She tricks us of our money, with our hearts. And practise every fraud to bribe her charms; For suits of love, like law, are won by pay, And beauty must be fee'd into our arms. Peach. But make haste to Newgate, boy, and let my friends know what I intend; for I love to make them easy, one way or another. |