Wild Oats Part 15

_Rover._ But by Heavens I'll--"Quoit him down, Bardolph."

_Harry._ Yes; but, Jack, if you can marry her, her fortune is a snug thing: besides, if you love each other--I tell you--

_Rover._ Hang, her fortune! "My love, more n.o.ble than the world, prizes not quant.i.ty of dirty lands." Oh, d.i.c.k, she's the most lovely--she is female beauty in its genuine decoration! [_Exit._

_Harry._ Ha! ha! ha! this is the drollest--Rover little suspects that I am the identical Squire Thunder that he personates--I'll lend him my character a little longer. Yes, this offers a most excellent opportunity of making my poor friend's fortune, without injuring any body; if possible, he shall have her. I can't regret the loss of charms I never knew; and, as for an estate, my father's is competent to all my wishes. Lady Amaranth, by marrying Jack Rover, will gain a man of honour, which she might miss in an earl--it may tease my father a little at first, but he's a good old fellow in the main; and, I think, when he comes to know my motive--Eh! this must be she--an elegant woman, faith! Now for a spanking lie, to continue her in the belief that Jack is the man she thinks him.

_Enter_ LADY AMARANTH.

_Lady Am._ Who art thou, friend?

_Harry._ Madam, I've scarce time to warn you against the danger you are in, of being imposed upon by your uncle, Sir George.

_Lady Am._ How?

_Harry._ He has heard of your ladys.h.i.+p's partiality for his son; but is so incensed at the irregularity of his conduct, he intends, if possible, to disinherit him; and, to prevent your honouring him with your hand, had engaged, and brought me hither, to pa.s.s me on you for him, designing to treat the poor young gentleman himself as an impostor, in hopes you'll banish him your heart and house.

_Lady Am._ Is Sir George such a parent? I thank thee for thy caution.--What is thy name?

_Harry._ Richard Buskin, ma'am; the stage is my profession. In the young 'squire's late excursion, we contracted an intimacy, and I saw so many good qualities in him, that I could not think of being the instrument of his ruin, nor deprive your ladys.h.i.+p of so good a husband, as I am certain he'll make you.

_Lady Am._ Then Sir George intends to disown him?

_Harry._ Yes, ma'am; I've this moment told the young gentleman of it; and he's determined, for a jest, to return the compliment, by seeming to treat Sir George himself as an impostor.

_Lady Am._ Ha, ha, ha! 'twill be a just retaliation, and, indeed, what my uncle deserveth for his cruel intentions both to his son and me.

_Sir Geo._ [_Without._] What, has he run away again?

_Lady Am._ That's mine uncle.

_Harry._ Yes; here is my father; and my standing out that I am not his son, will rouse him into the heat of battle, ha, ha, ha! [_Aside._]

Here he is, madam, now mind how he will dub me 'squire.

_Lady Am._ It's well I'm prepared, or I might have believed him.

_Enter_ SIR GEORGE.

_Sir Geo._ Well, my lady, wasn't it my wild rogue set you to all the Calcavella capers you've been cutting in the garden? You see here I have brought him into the line of battle again--you villain, why do you drop astern there? Throw a salute shot, buss her bob-stays, bring to, and come down straight as a mast, you dog.

_Lady Am._ Uncle, who is this?

_Sir Geo._ Who is he! Ha, ha, ha! Gad, that's an odd question to the fellow that has been cracking your walnuts.

_Lady Am._ He is bad at his lesson.

_Sir Geo._ Certainly, when he ran from school--why don't you speak, you lubber? you're curst modest now, but before I came, 'twas all done amongst the posies--Here, my lady, take from a father's hand, Harry Thunder.

_Lady Am._ That is what I may not.

_Sir Geo._ There, I thought you'd disgust her, you flat fis.h.!.+

_Enter_ ROVER.

_Lady Am._ [_Taking_ ROVER'S _hand_.] Here, take from my hand, Harry Thunder.

_Sir Geo._ Eh! [_Staring at_ ROVER.]

_Rover._ Eh! Oh! this is your sham Sir George? [_Apart._

_Harry._ Yes; I've been telling the lady, and she'll seem to humour him.

_Rover._ I shan't though. [_To Harry._] How do you do, Abraw.a.n.g?

_Sir Geo._ Abraw.a.n.g!

_Rover._ You look like a good actor.--Ay, that's very well, indeed--never lose sight of your character--you know, Sir George is a noisy, turbulent, wicked old seaman.--Angry! bravo!--pout your under lip, purse your brows--very well! But, dem it, Abraw.a.n.g, you should have put a little red upon your nose--mind a rule, ever play an angry old man, with a red nose.

_Sir Geo._ Nose! [_Walks about in a pa.s.sion._

_Rover._ Very well! that's right! strut about on your little pegs.

_Sir Geo._ I'm in such a fury.

_Rover._ We know that. Your figure is the most happy comedy squab I ever saw; why only show yourself, and you set the audience in a roar.

_Sir Geo._ 'Sblood and fire!

_Rover._ "Keep it up, I like fun."

_Lady Am._ Who is this? [_To_ SIR GEORGE, _pointing at_ ROVER.

_Sir Geo._ Some puppy unknown.

_Lady Am._ And you don't know this gentleman? [_To_ ROVER, _points to_ SIR GEORGE.

_Rover._ Excellently well; "He's a fishmonger."

_Sir Geo._ A what?

_Lady Am._ Yes, father and son are determined not to know each other.

You know this youth? [_To_ ROVER.

_Rover._ [_To_ HARRY.] "My friend, Horatio"--"I wear him in my heart's core, yea, in my heart of heart, as I do thee." [_Embracing._

_Sir Geo._ Such freedom with my niece before my face! Do you know that lady, do you know my son, sir?

_Rover._ Be quiet. "Jaffier has discovered the plot, and you can't deceive the senate."