A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 9

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_Lord Fop._ This must be my wife, by her natural inclination to her husband. [_Aside._]

_Miss Hoyd._ Pray, father, what do you intend to do with him--hang him?

_Sir Tun._ That, at least, child.

_Nurse._ Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.

_Lord Fop._ Madame la gouvernante, I presume: hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary families that ever man of quality matched into. [_Aside._]



_Sir Tun._ What's become of my lord, daughter?

_Miss Hoyd._ He's just coming, sir.

_Lord Fop._ My lord! what does he mean by that, now?

[_Aside._]

_Re-enter_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON _and_ LORY.

Stap my vitals, Tam, now the dream's out! [_Runs._]

_Fash._ Is this the fellow, sir, that designed to trick me of your daughter?

_Sir Tun_. This is he, my lord. How do you like him? Is not he a pretty fellow to get a fortune?

_Fash_. I find by his dress he thought your daughter might be taken with a beau.

_Miss Hoyd_. Oh, gemini! is this a beau? let me see him again. [_Surveys him_.] Ha! I find a beau is no such ugly thing, neither.

_Fash. [Aside_.] Egad, she'll be in love with him presently --I'll e'en have him sent away to jail.--[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Sir, though your undertaking shows you a person of no extraordinary modesty, I suppose you ha'n't confidence enough to expect much favour from me?

_Lord Fop_. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent fellow.

_Nurse_. Look, if the varlet has not the effrontery to call his lords.h.i.+p plain Thomas!

_Lord Fop_. My Lord Foppington, shall I beg one word with your lords.h.i.+p?

_Nurse_. Ho, ho! it's my lord with him now! See how afflictions will humble folks.

_Miss Hoyd_. Pray, my lord--[_To_ FAs.h.i.+ON]--don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your ear off.

_Lord Fop_. I am not altogether so hungry as your ladys.h.i.+p is pleased to imagine.--[_Aside to_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forgive what's past, and accept of the five thousand pounds I offer--thou mayst live in extreme splendour with it, stap my vitals!

_Fash_. It's a much easier matter to prevent a disease than to cure it. A quarter of that sum would have secured your mistress, twice as much cannot redeem her. [_Aside to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.]

_Sir Tun_. Well, what says he?

_Fash_. Only the rascal offered me a bribe to let him go.

_Sir Tun_. Ay, he shall go, with a plague to him!--lead on, constable.

_Enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser_. Sir, here is Muster Loveless, and Muster Colonel Townly, and some ladies to wait on you. [_To_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON.]

_Lory. [Aside to_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON.] So, sir, what will you do now?

_Fash_. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Be quiet; they are in the plot.--[_Aloud_.] Only a few friends, Sir Tunbelly, whom I wish to introduce to you.

_Lord Fop_. Thou art the most impudent fellow, Tam, that ever nature yet brought into the world.--Sir Tunbelly, strike me speechless, but these are my friends and acquaintance, and my guests, and they will soon inform thee whether I am the true Lord Foppington or not.

_Enter_ LOVELESS, COLONEL TOWNLY, AMANDA, _and_ BERINTHIA.--LORD FOPPINGTON _accosts them as they pa.s.s, but none answer him.

Fash_. So, gentlemen, this is friendly; I rejoice to see you.

_Col. Town_. My lord, we are fortunate to be the witnesses of your lords.h.i.+p's happiness.

_Love_. But your lords.h.i.+p will do us the honour to introduce us to Sir Tunbelly Clumsy?

_Aman_. And us to your lady.

_Lord Fop_. Gad take me, but they are all in a story!

[_Aside_.]

_Sir Tun_. Gentlemen, you do me much honour; my Lord Foppington's friends will ever be welcome to me and mine.

_Fash_. My love, let me introduce you to these ladies.

_Miss Hoyd_. By goles, they look so fine and so stiff, I am almost ashamed to come nigh 'em.

_Aman_. A most engaging lady indeed!

_Miss Hoyd_. Thank ye, ma'am.

_Ber_. And I doubt not will soon distinguish herself in the beau monde.

_Miss Hoyd_. Where is that?

_Fash_. You'll soon learn, my dear.

_Love_. But Lord Foppington-- _Lord Fop_. Sir!

_Love_. Sir! I was not addressing myself to you, sir!--Pray who is this gentleman? He seems rather in a singular predicament-- _Col. Town_. For so well-dressed a person, a little oddly circ.u.mstanced, indeed.

_Sir Tun_. Ha! ha! ha!--So, these are your friends and your guests, ha, my adventurer?

_Lord Fop_. I am struck dumb with their impudence, and cannot positively say whether I shall ever speak again or not.

_Sir Tun._ Why, sir, this modest gentleman wanted to pa.s.s himself upon me as Lord Foppington, and carry off my daughter.

_Love._ A likely plot to succeed, truly, ha! ha!

_Lord Fop._ As Gad shall judge me, Loveless, I did not expect this from thee. Come, pr'ythee confess the joke; tell Sir Tunbelly that I am the real Lord Foppington, who yesterday made love to thy wife; was honoured by her with a slap on the face, and afterwards pinked through the body by thee.

_Sir Tun._ A likely story, truly, that a peer would behave thus.

_Love._ A pretty fellow, indeed, that would scandalize the character he wants to a.s.sume; but what will you do with him, Sir Tunbelly?

_Sir Tun._ Commit him, certainly, unless the bride and bridegroom choose to pardon him.

_Lord Fop._ Bride and bridegroom! For Gad's sake, Sir Tunbelly, 'tis tarture to me to hear you call 'em so.

_Miss Hoyd._ Why, you ugly thing, what would you have him call us--dog and cat?

_Lord Fop._ By no means, miss; for that sounds ten times more like man and wife than t'other.

_Sir Tun._ A precious rogue this to come a-wooing!

_Re-enter_ SERVANT.

_Ser._ There are some gentlefolks below to wait upon Lord Foppington. [_Exit._]

_Col. Town._ 'Sdeath, Tom, what will you do now? [_Aside to_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON.]

_Lord Fop._ Now, Sir Tunbelly, here are witnesses who I believe are not corrupted.

_Sir Tun._ Peace, fellow!--Would your lords.h.i.+p choose to have your guests shown here, or shall they wait till we come to 'em?

_Fash._ I believe, Sir Tunbelly, we had better not have these visitors here yet.--[_Aside_.] Egad, all must out.

_Love._ Confess, confess; we'll stand by you. [_Aside to_ TOM FAs.h.i.+ON.]

_Lord Fop._ Nay, Sir Tunbelly, I insist on your calling evidence on both sides--and if I do not prove that fellow an impostor-- _Fash_. Brother, I will save you the trouble, by now confessing that I am not what I have pa.s.sed myself for.--Sir Tunbelly, I am a gentleman, and I flatter myself a man of character; but'tis with great pride I a.s.sure you I am not Lord Foppington.

_Sir Tun_. Ouns!--what's this?--an impostor?--a cheat?--fire and f.a.ggots, sir, if you are not Lord Foppington, who the devil are you?

_Fash_. Sir, the best of my condition is, I am your son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am brother to that n.o.ble peer.

_Lord Fop_. Impudent to the last, Gad dem me!

_Sir Tun_. My son-in-law! not yet, I hope.

_Fash_. Pardon me, sir; thanks to the goodness of your chaplain, and the kind offices of this gentlewoman.

_Lory_. 'Tis true indeed, sir; I gave your daughter away, and Mrs. Nurse, here, was clerk.

_Sir Tun_. Knock that rascal down!--But speak, Jezebel, how's this?

_Nurse_. Alas! your honour, forgive me; I have been overreached in this business as well as you. Your wors.h.i.+p knows, if the wedding-dinner had been ready, you would have given her away with your own hands.

_Sir Tun_. But how durst you do this without acquainting me?

_Nurse_. Alas! if your wors.h.i.+p had seen how the poor thing begged and prayed, and clung and twined about me like ivy round an old wall, you would say, I who had nursed it, and reared it, must have had a heart like stone to refuse it.

_Sir Tun_. Ouns! I shall go mad! Unloose my lord there, you scoundrels!

_Lord Fop_. Why, when these gentlemen are at leisure, I should be glad to congratulate you on your son-in-law, with a little more freedom of address.

_Miss Hoyd_. Egad, though, I don't see which is to be my husband after all.

_Love_. Come, come, Sir Tunbelly, a man of your understanding must perceive that an affair of this kind is not to be mended by anger and reproaches.

_Col. Town_. Take my word for it, Sir Tunbelly, you are only tricked into a son-in-law you may be proud of: my friend Tom Fas.h.i.+on is as honest a fellow as ever breathed.

_Love_. That he is, depend on't; and will hunt or drink with you most affectionately: be generous, old boy, and forgive them-- _Sir Tun_. Never! the hussy!--when I had set my heart on getting her a t.i.tle.

_Lord Fop_. Now, Sir Tunbelly, that I am untrussed--give me leave to thank thee for the very extraordinary reception I have met with in thy d.a.m.ned, execrable mansion; and at the same time to a.s.sure you, that of all the b.u.mpkins and blockheads I have had the misfortune to meek with, thou art the most obstinate and egregious, strike me ugly!

_Sir Tun_. What's this! I believe you are both rogues alike.

_Lord Fop_. No, Sir Tunbelly, thou wilt find to thy unspeakable mortification, that I am the real Lord Foppington, who was to have disgraced myself by an alliance with a clod; and that thou hast matched thy girl to a beggarly younger brother of mine, whose t.i.tle deeds might be contained in thy tobacco-box.

_Sir Tun_. Puppy! puppy!--I might prevent their being beggars, if I chose it; for I could give 'em as good a rent-roll as your lords.h.i.+p.

_Lord Fop_. Ay, old fellow, but you will not do that--for that would be acting like a Christian, and thou art a barbarian, stap my vitals.

_Sir Tun_. Udzookers! now six such words more, and I'll forgive them directly.

_Love_. 'Slife, Sir Tunbelly, you should do it, and bless yourself--Ladies, what say you?

_Aman_. Good Sir Tunbelly, you must consent.

_Ber_. Come, you have been young yourself, Sir Tunbelly.

_Sir Tun_. Well then, if I must, I must; but turn--turn that sneering lord out, however, and let me be revenged on somebody.

But first look whether I am a barbarian or not; there, children, I join your hands; and when I'm in a better humour, I'll give you my blessing.

_Love_. n.o.bly done, Sir Tunbelly! and we shall see you dance at a grandson's christening yet.

_Miss Hoyd_. By goles, though, I don't understand this!

What! an't I to be a lady after all? only plain Mrs.--What's my husband's name, nurse?

_Nurse_. Squire Fas.h.i.+on.

_Miss Hoyd_. Squire, is he?--Well, that's better than nothing.

A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 9

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A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 9 summary

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