John Bull Part 14

_Lady Car._ To me! Now, I can't conceive any use I could make of you. No, positively, you are neither useful nor ornamental.

_Shuff._ Yet, you were never at an opera, without me at your elbow;--never in Kensington Gardens, that my horse--the crop, by the bye, given me by Lord Collarbone,--wasn't constantly in leading at the gate:--hav'n't you danc'd with me at every ball?--And hav'nt I, unkind, forgetful, Lady Caroline, even cut the Newmarket meetings, when you were in London?

_Lady Car._ Bless me!--these charges are brought in like a bill. "To attending your ladys.h.i.+p at such a time; to dancing down twenty couple with your ladys.h.i.+p, at another,"--and, pray, to what do they all amount?

_Shuff._ The fullest declaration.

_Lady Car._ Lard, Mr. Shuffleton! why, it has, to be sure, looked a--a--a little foolish--but you--you never spoke any thing to----that is--to justify such a----

_Shuff._ That's as much as to say, speak now. [_Aside._]--To be plain, Lady Caroline, my friend does not know your value. He has an excellent heart--but that heart is--[_Coughs._] d.a.m.n the word, it's so out of fas.h.i.+on, it chokes me! [_Aside._] is irrevocably given to another.--But mine--by this sweet hand, I swear---- [_Kneeling and kissing her Hand._

_Enter JOHN._

Well, sir?-- [_Rising hastily._

_John._ Slyboots, sir, has been down on his knees;--and the groom says he can't go out.

_Shuff._ Let him saddle another.

_John._ What horse, sir, will you----

_Shuff._ Psha!--any.--What do you call Mr. Rochdale's favourite, now.

_John._ Traitor, sir.

_Shuff._ When Traitor's in the avenue, I shall be there.

[_Exit JOHN._

_Lady Car._ Answer me one question, candidly, and, perhaps, I may entrust you with a secret.--Is Mr. Rochdale seriously attached?

_Shuff._ Very seriously.

_Lady Car._ Then I won't marry him.

_Shuff._ That's spirited.--Now, your secret.

_Lady Car._ Why--perhaps you may have heard, that my father, Lord Fitz Balaam, is, somehow, so--so much in debt, that--but, no matter.

_Shuff._ Oh, not at all;--the case is fas.h.i.+onable, with both lords and commoners.

_Lady Car._ But an old maiden aunt, whom, rest her soul! I never saw, for family pride's sake, bequeathed me an independence. To obviate his lords.h.i.+p's difficulties, I mean to--to marry into this humdrum Cornish family.

_Shuff._ I see--a sacrifice!--filial piety, and all that--to disembarra.s.s his lords.h.i.+p. But hadn't your ladys.h.i.+p better--

_Lady Car._ Marry to disembarra.s.s you?

_Shuff._ By my honour, I'm disinterested.

_Lady Car._ By my honour, I'm monstrously piqued--and so vex'd, that I can't read this morning,--nor talk,--nor----I'll walk.

_Shuff._ Shall I attend you?

_Lady Car._ No;--don't fidget at my elbow, as you do at the opera.

But you shall tell me more of this by and by.

_Shuff._ When?--Where? [_Taking her Hand._

_Lady Car._ Don't torment me.--This evening, or--to-morrow, perhaps;--in the park,--or----psha! we shall meet at dinner.--Do, let me go now, for I shall be very bad company.

_Shuff._ [_Kissing her Hand._] Adieu, Lady Caroline!--

_Lady Car._ Adieu! [_Exit._

_Shuff._ My friend Frank, here, I think, is very much obliged to me!--I am putting matters pretty well _en train_ to disenc.u.mber him of a wife;--and now I'll canter over the heath, and see what I can do for him with the brazier's daughter. [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_A mean Parlour at the Red Cow._

_A Table--Pen, Ink, and Paper on it.--Chairs._

_MARY and MRS. BRULGRUDDERY discovered._

_Mrs. Brul._ Aye, he might have been there, and back, over and over again;--but my husband's slow enough in his motions, as I tell him, till I'm tir'd on't.

_Mary._ I hope he'll be here soon.

_Mrs. Brul._ Ods, my little heart! Miss, why so impatient? Hav'n't you as genteel a parlour as any lady in the land could wish to sit down in?--The bed's turn'd up in a chest of drawers that's stain'd to look like mahogany:--there's two poets, and a poll parrot, the best images the jew had on his head, over the mantlepiece; and was I to leave you all alone by yourself, isn't there an eight day clock in the corner, that when one's waiting, lonesome like, for any body, keeps going tick-tack, and is quite company?

_Mary._ Indeed, I did not mean to complain.

_Mrs. Brul._ Complain?--No, I think not, indeed!--When, besides having a handsome house over your head, the strange gentleman has left two guineas--though one seems light, and t'other looks a little brummish--to be laid out for you, as I see occasion. I don't say it for the lucre of any thing I'm to make out of the money, but, I'm sure you can't want to eat yet.

_Mary._ Not if it gives any trouble;--but I was up before sunrise, and have tasted nothing to-day.

_Mrs. Brul._ Eh! why, bless me, young woman! ar'n't you well?

_Mary._ I feel very faint.

_Mrs. Brul._ Aye, this is a faintish time o'year; but I must give you a little something, I suppose:--I'll open the window, and give you a little air. [_DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY, singing, without._

_They handed the whiskey about,_ _'Till it smoked thro' the jaws of the piper;_ _The bride got a fine copper snout,_ _And the clergyman's pimples grew riper._ _Whack doodlety bob,_ _Sing pip._

_Mary._ There's your husband!