Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  OMNES. Ha, ha, ha!

  WISEMORE. When once a lady’s raillery is set a running, it very seldom stops till it has exhausted all her wit.

  RATTLE. Agad, I would advise you to wade off before the stream’s too high; for your philosophy will be sure to sink you.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. Ay, ay, sink sure enough: for, by the right hand of the Traps, a lady’s wit is seldom any thing but froth.

  RATTLE. I have seen it make many a wise ‘squire froth at the mouth before now.

  VERMILIA. That must be a very likely sign of a lover indeed.

  WISEMORE. O very, very likely; for it is a certain sign of a madman.

  LORD FORMAL. If those are synonymous terms, I have long since entered into a state of distraction.

  WISEMORE. If I stay, I shall be mad, indeed. Madam, farewell; may Heaven open your eyes before you are shut into perdition!

  SCENE IX.

  LADY MATCHLESS, VERMILIA, HELENA, LORD FORMAL, SIR POSITIVE TRAP, SIR APISH SIMPLE, AND RATTLE.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Ha, ha, ha! rustic! Did you ever, ever see such a creature?

  LORD FORMAL. No, upon my title; nor am I perfectly determinate what species of animal to assign him to, unless he be one of those barbarous insects the polite call country squires.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. Barbarous! Sir, I’d have you know there are not better-natured people alive.

  HELENA. [ASIDE.] I am uneasy at this disappointment of Merital. — Sir, my aunt will be at home before us.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. So she will, chucky. Lookee, cousin, you see the Traps don’t love gadding.

  LORD FORMAL. May I presume to lead you to your coach?

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. Sir, I always lead my niece myself: it’s the custom of the Traps.

  LORD FORMAL. Sir, your most obedient and obsequious humble servant.

  SCENE X.

  LADY MATCHLESS, VERMILIA, LORD FORMAL, SIR APISH SIMPLE, AND RATTLE.

  LORD FORMAL. If they are all like you, the Traps are the worst-bred family in Europe, [Aside.] I presume that gentleman has some heiress with him.

  SIR APISH SIMPLE. Why, she is to be my wife to-morrow morning.

  LADY MATCHLESS. How, Sir Apish! this is surprising.

  SIR APISH SIMPLE. Why, indeed, I do not like country education; but then I consider that the town air will produce town breeding; for there was Lady Rig, who, when she first came to town, nothing was ever so awkward. But now she swims a minuet, and sits you eight-and-forty hours at quadrille.

  LORD FORMAL. Her ladyship is indebted to my instructions; for ‘tis well known, before I had the honour of her acquaintance, she has publicly spoke against that divine collection of polite learning written by Mr. Gulliver: but now, the very moment it is named, she breaks out into the prettiest exclamation, and cries, O the dear, sweet, pretty, little creatures! Oh, gemini! would I had been born a Lilliputian!

  LADY MATCHLESS. But methinks, Sir Apish, a lady who has seen the world should be more agreeable to one of your refined taste: besides, I have heard you say you like a widow.

  SIR APISH SIMPLE. Ah! l’amour! a perfect declaration! she is in love with me, mardie! [Aside.] Ah! madam, if I durst declare it, there is a certain person in the world, who, in a certain person’s eye, is a more agreeable person than any person, amongst all the persons, whom persons think agreeable persons.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Whoever that person is, she, certainly, is a very happy person.

  SIR APISH SIMPLE. Ah! madam, my eyes sufficiently and evidently declare, that that person is no other person than your ladyship’s own person.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Nay, all this I have drawn on myself.

  LORD FORMAL. Your ladyship’s eyes are two loadstones that attract the admiration of our whole sex: their virtues are more refined than the loadstone’s; for you, madam, attract the golden part.

  RATTLE. Come, gentlemen, are you for the opera?

  LORD FORMAL. Oh! by all means. Ladies, your most humble servant.

  SIR APISH SIMPLE. Your ladyship’s everlasting creature.

  SCENE XI.

  LADY MATCHLESS, VERMILIA.

  VERMILIA. And pray, my dear, what do you mean by an additional lover?

  LADY MATCHLESS. To deliver my cousin Helena from so detestable a match. She entreated it of me; and I believe I have now done her business, and am a successful rival.

  SCENE XII.

  To them, CATCHIT.

  CATCHIT. O, madam, I have been waiting this half hour for an opportunity! There’s a terrible scene of mischief going forwards. Mr. Malvil has been taxing me about Mr. Merital; and so I lot drop a few words, and so he has taken a fit of jealousy, and so see the consequences. [Gives an open letter.

  VERMILLA. Ha! ‘tis a challenge! How came you by it?

  CATCHIT. Why, madam, he had heard that Mr. Merital had an appointment here, and so he desired me to give him this letter, and so, and so —

  VERMILIA. And so you had the curiosity to open it.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Since it has given us an opportunity to prevent mischief, you must pardon her.

  VERMILIA. Prevent! No, I’ll further it rather.

  LADY MATCHLESS. But, my dear, consider here is the life of the innocent as well as the guilty at stake.

  CATCIIIT. O, dear madam, don’t let poor Mr. Merital suffer for my fault!

  VERMILIA. Your fault?

  CATCHIT. If you will pardon me, madam. I’ll discover the whole mistake.

  LADY MATCHLESS. On that condition, I’ll assure your pardon.

  CATCHIT. Why, madam, I had heard that Mrs. Helena was to be here at five, and so I sent word to Mr. Merital; and Mr. Malvil coming in at that time (which was when your ladyship went to the Park this morning), I dropt a word or two about meeting a mistress here; and so, I suppose, he thought it was your ladyship; and so, this afternoon he gave me a letter, which, I must own, my curiosity —

  VERMILIA. Very fine, indeed!

  LADY MATCHLESS. I have a thought just risen, which may turn this accident into a very lucky scene of diversion. Mistress Catchit, can you not change the name of Merital on the superscription into that of Wisemore?

  CATCHIT. O, madam, I am dexterous at those things!

  LADY MATCHLESS. Come in, then, and I’ll tell you farther. Give me your hand, Vermilia: take my word for it, child, the men are very silly creatures; therefore let us laugh at mankind,

  And teach them, that, in spite of all their scorn,

  Our slaves they are, and for our service born.

  SCENE XIII

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP’S House.

  Lady Trap discovered, and then Merital.

  LADY TRAP. Every thing is prepared; now is the happy hour. I hear some steps; ‘tis surely he. Who’s there? my love?

  MERITAL. My life!” my soul! my joy!

  LADY TRAP. Soft, my aunt will hear us.

  MERITAL. O, name her not. She is a perfect antidote to love. Let these blessed moments be spent in nothing but soft caresses. O! let me breathe out my fond soul on thy lips, and let thine own inform thee what I’d say. It will, I know, be tender as my thoughts.

  LADY TRAP. [Aside.] What fools men are to make bustles about particular women, when they know not one from another in the dark?

  MERITAL. But say, my life, what method shall I contrive for your escape? Consider you are in the jaws of wretches, who would for a little profit, see you miserable for ever.

  LADY TRAP. I must blame my ill-advised boldness, in trusting myself alone, even with you. I fear the frailty of my own sex, and the strength of yours.

  MERITAL. Not infant babes can love their tender mothers with more innocence. Sure my Helena has observed nothing in my conduct to ground such a suspicion on. But let us not trifle: go with me now; do not trust your aunt; she has cunning enough to deceive a thousand Arguses.

  LADY TRAP. Nay, you have no reason to asperse my aunt; she always speaks well of you, and I hate ingratitude.

  [Here HELENA entering with a candle, overhearing LADY TRAP, blows it out, retire
s to the corner of the scene, and listens.

  MERITAL. ‘Tis the aunt herself. What a nose have I, to mistake a bunch of hemlock for a nosegay of violets! I don’t know the meaning of this; but I’ll try how far she will carry it: perhaps I may blind her suspicions for the future. Come, come, madam, contrive some way for an escape, or I shall make use of the present opportunity. My passion must be cooled.

  LADY TRAP. [In a low voice.] I’ll call my aunt, if you dare attempt.

  MERITAL. She is here already, madam. Ha, ha, ha! did you think I did not know a fine woman from a green girl? Could not my warm, vigorous kisses inform you that I knew on whom they were bestowed? You must long since have discovered my passion for your niece to have been a counterfeit, a covering on my flame for you. Be assured, madam, she has nothing agreeable to me but her fortune. Would you. manage wisely, you might secure yourself a gallant, and your gallant an estate.

  LADY TRAP. Could I believe you, sir, it were an affront to my virtue.

  MERITAL. Ah! madam, whom did you expect just now, when, with a languishing sigh, you cried, Who’s there? my love? That’s not a name for a husband.

  LADY TRAP. Since I am discovered, I will own —

  MERITAL. Let me kiss away the dear word. — Brandy and assafcetida, by Jupiter. [Aside.

  LADY TRAP. But will you be a man of honour?

  MERITAL. [Aloud.] For ever, madam, for ever, whilst those bright eyes conquer all they behold. The devil’s in it if this does not alarm somebody. [Aside.

  LADY TRAP. Softly, sir, you will raise the house.

  MERITAL. [Aside.] I am sure I never wanted relief more —

  LADY TRAP. Ha! I am alone, in the dark, a bedchamber by, if you should attempt my honour, who knows what the frailty of my sex may consent to? Or, if you should force me, am I, poor weak woman, able to resist? Ay, but then there is law and justice; yet you may depend too fatally on my good nature.

  MERITAL. Consider, madam, you are in my power; remember your declaration. I had your love from your own dear lips. Consider well the temptation of so much beauty, the height of my offered joys, the time, the place, and the violence of my passion. Think of this, madam, and you can expect no other than that I should this moment seize on all my transports.

  LADY TRAP. If you should — Heaven forgive yon.

  MERITAL. [Louder still.] Yet, to convince you of my generosity, you are at your liberty. I will do nothing without your consent.

  LADY TRAP. Then to show you what a confidence I repose in your virtue, I vow to grant whate’er you ask.

  MERITAL. [ Very loud.] And to show you how well I deserve that confidence, I vow never to tempt your virtuous ears with love again; but try, by your example, to reduce licentious passion to pure Platonic love.

  SCENE XIV.

  Helena behind, with Sir Positive Trap with a broadsword.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. I hear ‘em, I hear ‘em.

  LADY TRAP. Ha! Sir Positive’s voice! Avaunt, nor think all thy entreaties shall avail against my virtue, or that it is in the power of all mankind to make me wrong the best, the kindest of husbands. I swear I never will even in thought, more than at this moment.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. O! incomparable virtue! what an excellent lady have I! Lights there, lights! [Servants bring lights.

  LADY TRAP. O! my dear, you are most seasonably come; for I was hardly able to resist him.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. What’s your business here, sir?

  MERITAL. My usual business, sir, cuckoldom. My design is against your worship’s head and your lady’s heart.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. A very pretty gentleman! And so, sir, you are beginning with my wife first?

  MERITAL. Yes, sir, the easiest way to the husband is through the wife.

  SIR POSITIVE TRAP. Come away, lady wife; come away, niece. Sir, there’s the door: the next time I catch you here,

  I may, perhaps, teach you what it is to make a cuckold of Sir Positive Trap.

  HELENA. Assure yourself I’ll speak to you no more.

  LADY TRAP. Au! the monster!

  MERITAL. Your monster is gone before, madam. — So, whilst I am trying to blind the aunt with a pretended passion for her, the niece overhears, and she’ll speak to me no more! — There never comes any good making love to an old woman.

  SCENE XV

  WISEMORE’S lodgings.

  WISEMORE (alone.) How vain is human reason, when philosophy cannot overcome our passion! when we can see our errors, and yet pursue them. But if to love be an error, why should great minds be the most subject to it? No, the first pair enjoyed it in their state of innocence, whilst error was unborn.

  SCENE XVI.

  To him, SERVANT with a letter.

  SERVANT. A letter, sir.

  WISEMORE. [Reads.]

  “Sir, — You, who are conscious of being secretly my rival in the midst of an intimate friendship, will not be surprised when I desire that word may be cancelled between us, and that you would not fail me to-morrow at seven in Hyde Park.

  “Your injured,

  “MALVIL”

  What can this mean? Ha! here’s a postscript.

  “P.S. Your poor colourings of love for another woman, which you put on this morning, has confirmed, not baffled, my suspicion. I am certain you had no mistress to meet atLady Matchless’s but Vermilia.”

  Who brought this letter?

  SERVANT. A porter, sir, who said it required no answer.

  WISEMORE. What am I to think? am I in a dream? or was this writ in one? Sure madness has possessed the world, and men, like the limbs of a tainted body, universally share the infection. What shall I do! to go is to encounter a madman, and yet I will. Some strange circumstance may have wrought this delusion, which my presence may dissipate. And, since love and jealousy are his diseases, I ought to pity him, who know by dreadful experience,

  When love in an impetuous torrent flows,

  How vainly reason would its force oppose;

  Hurled down the stream, like flowers before the wind,

  She leaves to love the empire of the mind.

  ACT IV.

  SCENE I.

  Hyde Park.

  LADY MATCHLESS, VERMILIA, masqued.

  LADY MATCHLESS. I am sure I saw some one hereabouts, who, by his posture, actions and dress, must be my swain. Well, Vermilia, this sure is the maddest prank — what will the world say?

  VERMILIA. The world is a censorious, ill-natured critic, and I despise its cavillings. Besides, I am now grown careless of every thing. O! my dear! it is the most valuable privilege of friendship to disburthen our secrets into one another’s bosoms. If you knew those of mine, I am sure you would pity me.

  SCENE II.

  To them, Wisemore.

  LADY MATCHLESS. I do pity you, indeed, for sure, to be in love ——

  WISEMORE. Is to be foolish, mad, miserable — To be in love is to be in hell. [Advancing from behind.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Do you speak from experience, sir?

  WISEMORE. From sad experience — I have been in love — so monstrously in love that, like a bow over-bent, I am now relaxed into an opposite extreme — and heartily hate your whole sex.

  LADY MATCHLESS. Poor Cardenio! Ha! ha! ha! Be not so disconsolate; you may yet find your Lucinda.

  WISEMORE. No, she has lost herself — and in a wilderness.

  LADY MATCHLESS. How in a wilderness?

  WISEMORE. Ay, in that town, that worst of wildernesses! where follies spread like thorns; where men act the part of tigers, and women of crocodiles; where vice lords it like a lion, and virtue, that phœnix, is so rarely seen, that she is believed a fable — But these sentiments do not please you, so, pray leave me.

  VERMILIA. Our company, sir, was your own choice.

  LADY MATCHLESS. And now you have raised our curiosity you shall lay it.

  WISEMORE. I would have raised the devil sooner, and sooner would I have laid him. — Your curiosity, madam, is a sort of a hydra, which not even Hercules can tame; so dear ladies l
eave me, or I shall pull off your shamfaces —

  LADY MATCHLESS. You would repent it heartily if you did.

  WISEMORE. Perhaps so. — I believe, indeed, you show the best part of you.

  LADY MATCHLESS. You would give half your soul to see the best part of me.

  WISEMORE. Half-a-crown I will. The best sight to me is your back, turn it, and away; you lose your time, indeed you do. What can such as you with a plain honest man like me? Go, seek your game: the beaus will begin to yawn presently, and sots return home from their debauches; strike in there, and you make your fortune, at least, get a dinner, which you may want by staying here.