Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

Home > Nonfiction > Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding > Page 272
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 272

by Henry Fielding


  When mutual passion hath possessed,

  With equal flame, each amorous breast,

  How sweet’s the rapt’rous kiss?

  While each with soft contention strive,

  Which highest ecstasies shall give,

  Or be more mad with bliss!

  ROBIN. Oh my Sweetissa! how impatient am I till the parson hath stitched us together; then, my dear, nothing but the scissors of the fates should ever cut us asunder.

  SWEETISSA. How charming is thy voice! sweeter than bagpipes to my ear: I could listen ever.

  ROBIN. And I could view thee ever: thy face is brighter than the brightest silver. O could I rub my silver to be as bright as thy dear face, I were a butler indeed!

  SWEETISSA. Oh Robin! there is no rubbing on my face; the colour which I have, nature, not art, hath given; for on my honour, during the whole time I have lived with my mistress, out of all the pots of paint which I have plastered on her face, I never stole a bit to plaster on my own.

  ROBIN. Adieu, my dear, I must go whet my knives; by that time the parson will be returned from coursing, and we will be married this morning. — Oh Sweetissa! it is easier to fathom the depth of the bottomless sea than my love.

  SWEETISSA. Or to fathom the depth of a woman’s bottomless conscience than to tell thee mine.

  ROBIN. Mine is as deep as the knowledge of physicians.

  SWEETISSA. Mine as the projects of statesmen.

  ROBIN. Mine as the virtue of whores.

  SWEETISSA. Mine as the honesty of lawyers.

  ROBIN. Mine as the piety of priests.

  SWEETISSA. Mine as — I know not what.

  ROBIN. Mine as — as — as — I’gad I don’t know what.

  AIR XII. All in the Downs.

  Would you my love in words displayed,

  A language must be coined to tell;

  No word for such a passion’s made,

  For no one ever loved so well.

  Nothing, oh! nothing’s like my love for you,

  And so my dearest, and so my dearest, and my dear, adieu.

  SCENE VII.

  SWEETISSA and MARGERY.

  SWEETISSA. Oh my Margery! if this fit of love continues, how happy shall I be!

  MARGERY. Ay, it will continue the usual time, I warrant you, during the honeymoon.

  SWEETISSA. Call it the honey-year, the honey-age. Oh, Margery! sure never woman loved as I do! — though I am to be married this morning, still it seems long to me. To a mind in love, sure an hour before marriage seems a month.

  MARGERY. Ay, my dear, and many an hour after marriage seems a twelvemonth; it is the only thing wherein the two states agree; for we generally wish ourselves into it, and wish ourselves out of it.

  SWEETISSA. And then into it again; which makes one poet say, love is like the wind.

  MARGERY. Another, that it is like the sea.

  SWEETISSA. A third, a weathercock.

  MARGERY. A fourth, a Jack with a lanthorn.

  SWEETISSA. In short, it is like everything.

  MARGERY. And like nothing at all.

  AIR XIII. Ye nymphs and sylvan gods.

  How odd a thing is love,

  Which the poets fain would prove

  To be this and that,

  And the Lord knows what,

  Like all things below and above

  But believe a maid,

  Skilled enough in the trade

  Its mysteries to explain;

  ‘Tis a gentle dart,

  That tickles the heart,

  And though it gives us smart,

  Does joys impart,

  Which largely requite all the pain.

  MARGERY. Oh my dear! whilst you have been singing, see what I have discovered!

  SWEETISSA. It is a woman’s hand, and not my own.

  [Reads.] Oh, my Margery! now I am undone indeed. — Robin is false, he has lain with, and left our Susan.

  MARGERY. How!

  SWEETISSA. This letter comes from her, to upbraid him with it.

  MARGERY. Then you have reason to thank fate for this timely discovery. What would it avail you to have found it out when you were married to him? — When you had been his wife, what would it have profited you to have known he had another?

  SWEETISSA. True, true, Margery; when once a woman is married, His too late to discover faults.

  AIR XIV. Red house.

  Ye virgins who would marry,

  Ere you choose, be wary,

  If you’d not miscarry,

  Be inclined to doubting:

  Examine well your lover,

  His vices to discover,

  With caution con him over,

  And turn quite inside out him;

  But wedding past,

  The stocking cast,

  The guests all gone,

  The curtain drawn,

  Be henceforth blind,

  Be very kind,

  And find no faults about him.

  SWEETISSA. Oh Margery! I am resolved never to see Robin more.

  MARGERY. Keep that resolution, and you will be happy.

  SCENE VIII.

  ROBIN. How truly does the book say — hours to men in love are like years. Oh for a shower of rain to send the parson home from coursing, before the canonical hours are over! — Ha! what paper is this? — The hand of our William is on the superscription.

  To MRS. SWEETISSA.

  “MADAM, — Hoping that you are not quite de-t-e-r-terin-i-n-e-ed, determined to marry our Robin, this comes for to let you know” — [I’ll read no more: can there be such falsehood in mankind? — I find footmen are as great rogues as their masters; and henceforth I’ll look for no more honesty under a livery, than an embroidered coat — but let me see again! — ] “to let you know I am ready to fulfil my promise to you.” Ha! she too is guilty. — Chambermaids are as bad as their ladies, and the whole world is one nest of rogues.

  AIR XV. Black Joke.

  The more we know of human kind,

  The more deceits and tricks we find

  In every land as well as Wales;

  For would you see no roguery thrive,

  Upon the mountains you must live,

  For rogues abound in all the vales.

  The master and the man will nick,

  The mistress and the maid will trick;

  For rich and poor

  Are rogue and whore,

  There’s not one honest man in a score,

  Nor woman true in twenty-four.

  SCENE IX.

  ROBIN and JOHN.

  ROBIN. Oh John! thou best of friends! come to my arms — For thy sake I will still believe there is one honest — one honest man in the world.

  JOHN. What means our Robin?

  ROBIN. O my friend! Sweetissa is false, and I’m undone — let this letter explain the rest.

  JOHN. Ha! and is William at the bottom of all? — Our William who used to rail against women and matrimony! Oh! ‘tis too true what our parson says, there’s no belief in man.

  ROBIN. Nor woman neither. John, art thou my friend?

  JOHN. When did Robin ask me what I have not done? — Have I not left my horses undrest, to whet thy knives? — Have I not left my stable uncleaned, to clean thy spoons? And even the bay stonc-horse unwatered, to wash thy glasses!

  ROBIN. Then thou shalt carry a challenge for me to William.

  JOHN. Oh Robin! consider what our parson says — We must not revenge, but forget and forgive.

  ROBIN. Let our parson say what he will. — When did he himself forgive? Did he forgive Gaffer Jobson having wronged him of two cocks of hay in five load? — Did he forgive Gammer Sowgrunt for having wronged him of a tythe-pig? — Did he forgive Susan Foulmouth, for telling him he loved the cellar better than his pulpit? — No, no, let him preach up forgiveness, he forgives nobody. — So I will follow his example, not his precepts. — Had he hit me a slap in the face, I could have put up with it. — Had he stole a silver spoon, and laid the blame on me, though I had been t
urned away, I could have forgiven him. But to try to rob me of my love — that, that, our John, I never can forgive him.

  AIR XVI. Tippling John.

  The dog his bit

  Will often quit,

  A battle to eschew;

  The cock his com,

  Will leave in barn,

  Another cock in view.

  One man will eat

  Another’s meat,

  And no contention seen;

  Since all agree

  ‘Tis best to be,

  Though hungry, in a whole skin.

  But should each spy,

  His mistress by,

  A rival move his suit,

  He quits his fears,

  And by the ears

  They fall together to’t.

  A rival shocks,

  Men, dogs, and cocks,

  And makes the gentlest froward;

  He who won’t fight

  For mistress bright,

  Is something worse than coward

  JOHN. Nay, to say the truth, thou hast reason on thy side. Fare thee well. — I’ll go deliver thy message, and thou shalt find I will behave myself like a Welshman, and thy friend.

  SCENE X.

  ROBIN. NOW were it not for the sin of self-murder, would I go hang myself at the next tree. — Yes, Sweetissa, I would hang myself, and haunt thee. — Oh woman, woman! is this the return you make true love? — No man is sure of his mistress, till he has gotten her with child. — A lover should act like a boy at school, who spits in his porridge that no one may take it from him. — Should William have been beforehand with me — Oh!

  SCENE XI.

  ROBIN and SWEETISSA.

  SWEETISSA. Oh! the perjury of men! I find dreams do not always go by contraries; for I dreamt last night, that I saw our Robin married to another.

  [A long silence, and walking by one another, she takes out her handkerchief, and bursts out a crying.

  ROBIN. Your crying won’t do, madam; I can tell you that. — I have been fool long enough — I have been cheated by your tears too often, to believe them any longer.

  SWEETISSA. Oh barbarous, perfidious, cruel wretch! — Oh! I shall break my heart — Oh!

  ROBIN. No, no, your heart is like a green stick, you may bend it, but cannot break it. — It will bend like a willow, and twist around any one.

  SWEETISSA. Monster! monster!

  ROBIN. Better language would show better breeding.

  AIR XVII. Hedge Lane.

  ROBIN. Indeed, my dear,

  With sigh and tear,

  Your point you will not carry;

  I’d rather eat

  The offal meat,

  Than others’ leavings marry.

  SWEETISS — Villain, well

  You would conceal

  Your falsehood by such catches;

  Alas! too true

  I’ve been to you,

  Thou very wretch of wretches.

  Well you know

  What I might do,

  Would I but with young master.

  ROBIN. Pray be still,

  Since by our Will,

  You’re now with child of bastard.

  SWEETISSA. I with child?

  ROBIN. Yes, you with child.

  SWEETISSA. I with child, you villain?

  ROBIN. Yes, you,

  Madam, you,

  Are now with child by William.

  It is equal to me with whom you play your pranks; and I’d as lieve be my master’s cuckold as my fellow-servant’s — Nay, I had rather, for I could make him pay for it.

  SWEETISSA. Oh, most inhuman! dost thou not expect the ceiling to fall down on thy head, for so notorious a lie? Dost thou believe in the Bible? Dost thou believe there is such a thing as the Devil? Dost thou believe there is such a place as Hell?

  ROBIN. Yes, I do, madam; and you will find there is such a place to your cost. — Oh, Sweetissa, Sweetissa! that a woman could hear herself asked in church to one man, when she knew she had to do with another?

  SWEETISSA. I had to do with another?

  ROBIN. You, madam, you.

  SWEETISSA. I had to do with Will?

  ROBIN. Yes, you had to do with Will.

  AIR XVIII. Lord Biron’s Maggot.

  SWEET. Sure nought so disastrous can woman befall,

  As to be a good virgin, and thought none at all.

  Had William but pleased me,

  It never had teased me

  To hear a forsaken man bawl.

  But from you this abuse,

  For whose sake and whose use

  I have safe corked my maidenhead up;

  How must it shock my ear!

  For what woman can bear

  To be called a vile drunkard,

  And told of the tankard,

  Before she has swallowed a cup?

  ROBIN. O Sweetissa, Sweetissa! well thou knowest that, wert thou true, I’d not have sold thee for five hundred pounds. But why do I argue longer with an ungrateful woman, who is not only false, but triumphs in her falsehood; her falsehood to one who hath been too true to her. Since you can be so base, I shall tell you what I never did intend to tell you — When I was in London, I might have had an affair with a lady, and slighted her for you.

  SWEETISSA. A lady! I might have had three lords in one afternoon; nay, more than that. I refused a man with a thing over his shoulder like a scarf at a burying for you; and these men, they say, are the greatest men in the kingdom.

  ROBIN. O Sweetissa! the very hand-irons thou didst rub, before thou wast preferred to wait on thy lady, have not more brass in them than thy forehead.

  SWEETISSA. O Robin, Robin! the great silver candlesticks in thy custody are not more hollow than thou art.

  ROBIN. O Sweetissa! the paint, nay, the eyebrows that thou puttest on thy mistress are not more false than thou.

  SWEETISSA. Thou hast as many mistresses as there are glasses on thy sideboard.

  ROBIN. And thou lovers as thy mistress has patches.

  SWEETISSA. If I have, you will have but a small share.

  ROBIN. The better my fortune. To lose a wife when you have had her is to get out of misfortune — to lose one before you get her is to escape it; especially if it be one that somebody has had before you. — He that marries pays the price of virtue. — Whores are to be had cheaper.

  AIR XIX. Do not ask me.

  A woman’s ware like china,

  Once flawed is good for nought;

  When whole, though worth a guinea,

  When broke’s not worth a groat.

  A woman at St. James’s

  With guineas you obtain,

  But stay till lost her fame is,

  She’ll be cheap in Drury Lane.

  SCENE XII.

  SWEETISSA and MARGERY.

  SWEETISSA. Ungrateful, barbarous wretch.

  MARGERY. What is the matter?

  SWEETISSA. Oh, Margery! Robin —

  MARGERY. What more of him?

  SWEETISSA. O! worse than you can imagine — worse than I could have dreaded: Oh, he has sullied my virtue!

  MARGERY. How! your virtue?

  SWEETISSA. Yes, Margery, that virtue which I kept locked up as in a cupboard; that very virtue he has abused — he has barbarously insinuated to be no virtue at all. Oh, I could have borne any fate but this; — I that would have carried a knapsack through the world, so that my virtue had been safe within it — I that would have rather been the poorest man’s wife than the richest man’s whore — To be called the miss of a footman that would not be the miss of a king!

  MARGERY. It is a melancholy thing indeed.

  SWEETISSA. O Margery! men do not sufficiently understand the value of virtue. Even footmen learn to go a whoring of their masters — and virtue will shortly be of no use but to stop bottles.

  AIR XX. Tweed-side.

  What woman her virtue would keep,

  When nought by her virtue she gains?

  While she lulls her soft passions asleep,

/>   She’s thought but a fool for her pains.

  Since valets, who learn their lords’ wit,

  Our virtue a bauble can call,

  Why should we our ladies’ steps quit,

  Or have any virtue at all?

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  The fields.

  MR. APSHONES and MOLLY.

  MR. APSHONES. I tell you, daughter, I am doubtful whether his designs be honourable: there is no trusting these fluttering fellows; they place as much glory in winning a poor girl, as a soldier does in conquering a town. Nay, their very parents often encourage them in it; and when they have brought up a boy to flatter and deceive the women, they think they have given him a good education, and call him a fine gentleman.

  MOLLY. Do not, dear sir, suspect my Owen: he is made of a gentler nature.

  MR. APSHONES. And yet I have heard that that gentle gentleman, when he was at London, rummaged all the playhouses for mistresses: nay you yourself have heard of his pranks in the parish; did he not seduce the fiddler’s daughter?

 

‹ Prev