Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

Home > Nonfiction > Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding > Page 278
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 278

by Henry Fielding


  JACK STOCKS. Oh! it is the town way of wooing; people of fashion never see one another above twice before marriage

  MR. STOCKS. Which may be the reason why some of ‘em scarce see one another above twice after they are married.

  JACK STOCKS. I would not presume to ask such a thing, if I were not pressed by necessity. For if I am not married in a day or two, I shall be obliged to marry another whom I have promised already.

  CHLOE. Nay, if you have been once false, you will always be so.

  AIR X.

  I’ve often heard

  Two things averred

  By my dear grandmamma,

  To be as sure,

  As light is pure,

  As knavery in law.

  The man who’ll prove

  Once false to love,

  Will still make truth his scoff;

  And woman that

  Has — you know what,

  Will never leave it off.

  MR. STOCKS. I see, madam, this is a very improper time for business, so I’ll wait on your ladyship in the afternoon.

  JACK STOCKS. Let me beg leave, madam, to give you a little advice. I know something of this town. — Have nothing to do with that’ fellow, he is one of the greatest rogues that ever was hanged.

  CHLOE. I thought, my lord, you had spoke just now as if you had employed him too.

  JACK STOCKS. Yes, madam, yes, — the fellow has some 40,000?. or 50,000l of mine in his hands, which if ever I get out, I give you my honour, if I can help it, I’ll never see his face again. But as for your money, don’t trouble yourself about it, leave the disposal of that to me. — I’ll warrant I find ways to lay it out.

  Enter LOVEMORE.

  LOVEMORE. My Chloe! Ha! can you turn thus disdainful from me?

  CHLOE. Sir, I know you not.

  LOVEMORE. Not know me! And is this the fellow for whom I am unknown? This powderpuff! — Have you surrendered to him, in one week, what I have been ages in soliciting.

  JACK STOCKS. Harkye, sir, — whoever you are, I would not have you think, because I am a beau, and a lord, that I won’t fight.

  LOVEMORE. A lord! Oh! there it is! the charms are in the title. — What else can you see in this walking perfume shop that can charm you? Is this the virtue, and the virtue, that you have been thundering in my ears? ‘Sdeath! I am distracted! that ever a woman should be proof against the arts of mankind, and fall a sacrifice to a monkey.

  AIR XI. Son Confuso.

  Some confounded planet reigning

  Must have moved you to these airs;

  Or could your inclination

  Stoop so low,

  From my passion,

  To a beau?

  Blood and thunder!

  Wounds and wonder;

  Can you under-rate me so?

  But since I, to each pretender

  My pretensions must surrender,

  Farewell all your frowns and scorns;

  Rot me, madam, I

  Wish my rival joy!

  Much joy! much joy of his horns.

  Zounds! and furies! can I bear it?

  Can I tamely stand the shock?

  Sure — ten thousand devils

  Cannot prove

  Half such evils,

  As to love.

  Blood and thunder!

  Wounds and wonder!

  Who’d be under

  Woman’s love?

  AIR XII.

  CHLOE. Dear sir, be not in such a passion,

  There’s never a maid in the nation

  Who would not forego

  A dull squire for a beau;

  Love is not your proper vocation.

  LOVEM. Dear madam, be not in such a fury,

  For from St. James’s to Drury,

  No widow you’ll find,

  No wife of your mind.

  CHLOE. ‘Ah, hideous! I cannot endure you.

  Ah! see him — how neat!

  Ah! smell him — how sweet!

  Ah! hear but his honey words flow!

  What maid in her senses,

  But must fall into trances,

  At the sight of so lovely a beau!

  JACK STOCKS. Ha, ha, ha! we are very much obliged to you madam — Ha, ha! — squire Noodle, faith, you make a very odd sort of a ridiculous figure — Ha, ha!

  CHLOE. Not worth your lordship’s notice.

  LOVEMORE. I would advise you, my lord, as you love the safety of that pretty person of yours, not to let me find it at my return; for, if I come within the smell of your pulvilio, I will so metamorphose your beauship —

  JACK STOCKS. Impudent scoundrel!

  CHLOE. I am frightened out of my wits, for I know he is very desperate.

  JACK STOCKS. Oh, madam! leave me to deal with him; I’ll let a little light through his body.

  CHLOE. Ah! but, my lord! what will be the consequence of that?

  JACK STOCKS. Nothing at all, madam — I have killed half a dozen such dirty fellows, and no notice taken of it.

  CHLOE. For my sake, my lord, have a care of yourself.

  AIR XIII.

  Ah think, my lord! how I should grieve

  To see your lordship banged;

  But greater still my fears, believe,

  Lest I should see you hanged.

  Ah! who could see,

  On Tyburn-tree,

  You swinging in the air!

  A halter round

  Your white neck bound,

  Instead of solitaire.

  JACK STOCKS. To prevent all danger, then, let us be married this instant.

  CHLOE. Oh fie! my lord; the world will say I am a strange forward creature.

  JACK STOCKS. The world, madam, might be saucy enough to talk of you, if you were married to a private gentleman — but as you will be a woman of quality, they won’t be surprised at any thing you do.

  CHLOE. People of quality have indeed privileges, they say, beyond other people; and I long to be one of them.

  AIR XIV. White Joke.

  O how charming my life will be

  “When marriage has made me a fine lady!

  In chariot, six horses, and diamonds bright,

  In Flanders lace, and ‘broidery clothes,

  O how I’ll flame it among the beaus!

  In bed all the day, at cards all the night,

  O ! how I’ll revel the hours away!

  Sing it, and dance it, coquette it, and play;

  With feasting, toasting,

  Jesting, roasting,

  Rantum scantum, flanting, janting,

  Laughing at all the world can say. [Exeunt.

  JENNY. This is something like — there is some mettle in these London lords. Our poor country squires will always put us to the blush of consenting — the sparks know a woman’s mind before she speaks it. Well, it is certainly a great comfort to a woman, who has done what she should not do, that she did it without her own consent.

  Enter LOVEMORE.

  LOVEMORE. Ha! flown? Mrs. Jenny, where’s your mistress? —

  JENNY. My mistress, sir, is with my master.

  LOVEMORE. Damnation! Where? Show me this instant, and —

  JENNY. And what? It is surprising to me how a man of Mr. Lovemore’s sense should pursue a woman who uses him so ill; when, to my certain knowledge, there is a woman in the world has a much juster notion of his merit.

  LOVEMORE. Harkye, Mrs. Minx, tell me where your mistress is, or I’ll squeeze your little soul out.

  JENNY. Oh, murder! murder! help! murder!

  Enter MRS. STOCKS.

  MRS. STOCKS. Heyday! what’s the matter? Who is this committing murder in my house? Who are you, sir? What rascal, what thief are you, sir? Hey!

  LOVEMORE. This must be the bawd, by the politeness of her language. [Aside.] — Dear madam, be not in such a passion; I am no bilking younger brother; and though I’m no lord, you may find me a good customer, and as good a paymaster as any laced fop in Christendom.

  MRS. STOCKS. Sir, I keep no shop, nor want
any of your custom. What has he done to you, child? [To Jenny.

  JENNY. He has done nothing to me, indeed madam, only squeezed me by the arm, to tell him where my mistress was.

  MRS. STOCKS. And what have you to do with her mistress?

  LOVEMORE. Why faith, I am like to have nothing to do with her mistress, without your good offices. — Lookye, mother, let me have the first of her, and here are 500l at your service.

  MRS. STOCKS. What does the saucebox mean?

  LOVEMORE. Ha, ha, ha!

  AIR XV.

  When the candidate offers his purse,

  What voter requires what he meant?

  When a great man attempts to disburse,

  What little man asks his intent?

  Are you not then ashamed,

  When my mistress I’ve named,

  And my purse I’ve pulled out,

  Any longer to doubt

  My meaning, good mother?

  MRS. STOCKS. Mother! — O that ever I should live to see this day! — I that have escaped the name of a whore in my youth, to be called a bawd in my old age. — Sirrah, sirrah, the mother that bore you was not an honester woman.

  Enter JACK STOCKS, and CHLOE.

  JACK STOCKS. “What’s the matter, Mrs. Stocks?

  MRS. STOCKS. Oh, madam! had you heard how I’ve been abused upon your account — Here’s a filthy fellow has offered me money to —

  CHLOE. What, dear madam?

  MRS. STOCKS. To procure your ladyship — dear madam —

  JACK STOCKS. Sir, I desire you would omit any farther solicitations to this lady, and on that condition I forgive the past. This lady is now my wife.

  LOVEMORE. HOW! IS this true, Chloe?

  CHLOE. Even as you’ve heard, sir.

  JACK STOCKS. Here’s a fellow won’t take a lord’s word for a wife.

  LOVEMORE. Henceforth, I will never take a woman’s word for any thing.

  JACK STOCKS. Then I wish you’d take yourself away, sir.

  LOVEMORE. Sir, I shall take the liberty of staying here, because I believe my company is disagreeable to you.

  JACK STOCKS. Very civil, faith! — Come, my dear, let us leave this sullen gentleman to enjoy his spleen by himself.

  CHLOE. Oh, my dear lord! let’s go to the Hall to see the lottery drawn.

  JACK STOCKS. If your ladyship pleases. So, dear squire, adieu. [Exeunt Jack Stocks and Chloe.

  LOVEMORE. I’ll follow her still; for such a coxcomb of a husband will but give her a better relish for a gallant.

  [Exit.

  JENNY. And I’ll follow you still; for such usage from one mistress, will give you the better relish for another.

  SCENE III

  Guildhall

  COMMISSIONERS, CLERKS, SPECTATORS, MOB, &C.

  1 MOB. What, are they not drawing yet?

  MR. STOCKS. No, but they’ll begin presently.

  AIR XVI. South Sea ballad.

  MR. STOCKS.

  The lottery just is beginning,

  ‘Twill soon be too late to get an estate,

  For Fortune, like dames fond of sinning,

  Does the tardy adventurer hate.

  Then if you’ve a mind to have her,

  To-day with vigour pursue her,

  Or else to-morrow,

  You’ll find to your sorrow,

  She’s granted another the favour,

  Which to-day she intended for you.

  1 MOB. Never tell me, Thomas, it is all a cheat; what do those people do behind the curtain? There’s never any honesty behind a curtain.

  2 MOB. Harkye, neighbour, I fancy there is somebody in the wheels that gives out what tickets he pleases; for if you mind, sometimes there are twenty blanks drawn together, and then two or three prizes.

  1 MOB. Nay, if there be twenty blanks drawn together, it must be a cheat; for you know the man where I hired my horses told me there was not quite ten blanks to a prize.

  2 MOB. POX take their horses! I am sure they have run away with all the money I have brought to town with me.

  1 MOB. And yet it can’t be all a cheat, neither; for you know Mrs. Sugarsops of our town got twenty pound.

  1 MOB. Ay, you fool; but does not her brother live with a parliament-man?

  1 MOB. But he has nothing to do with the lottery, has he?

  2 MOB. Ah, Laud help thee! — Who can tell what he has to do with it?

  1 MOB. But here’s Mrs. Sugarsops herself.

  Enter MRS. SUGARSOPS.

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. How do you, neighbour Harrow?

  2 MOB. Ah! Mrs. Sugarsops! you are a lucky woman.

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. I wish you would make your words good.

  1 MOB. Why, have not you got twenty pound in the lottery?

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. Ah Lud! that’s all rid away, and twenty pounds more to it. Oh! ‘tis all a cheat; they let one get a little at first, only to draw one in, that’s all. I have hired a horse to-day; and, if I get nothing by that, I’ll go down into the country to-morrow.

  1 MOB. I intend to ride no longer, nor neighbour Graze here neither. — He and I go halves in a ticket to-day. — See, here is the number.

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. AS I live, the very ticket I have hired myself!

  2 MOB. Nay, that cannot be. It may be the same number, perhaps, but it cannot be the same ticket, for we have the whole ticket for ourselves.

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. I tell you, we are both cheated.

  IRISHMAN. Upon my shoul, it is very brave luck, indeed; the deel take me but this will be brave news to carry back to Ireland.

  1 MOB. Ay, there’s he that has got the five thousand pound which came up to-day.

  2 MOB. I give you joy of the five thousand pound, sir.

  IRISHMAN. Ah, honey! fait I have not got it as yet — but, upon my shoul, I was within a ticket of it, joy.

  3 MOB. I hope your worship will take care that my horse be drawn to-day, or to-morrow, because I shall go out of town next day.

  MR. STOCKS. Never fear, friend.

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. You are a fine gentleman, to let me the same ticket you had let before to these men here.

  MR. STOCKS. Pshaw! madam, it’s impossible; it’s a mistake!

  MRS. SUGARSOPS. Here is the number, sir; it is the same on both papers.

  MR. STOCKS. Ha! why Mr. Trick has made a little blunder here indeed! However, madam, if it comes up a prize, you shall both receive it. — (Ha, ha, ha! d’ye think my horses won’t carry double, madam? — This number is a sure card, for it was drawn a blank five days ago.) — [Aside.

  Enter COACHMAN.

  COACHMAN. Oh, sir! your worship has let me a very lucky horse: it is come up twenty pound already. So if your worship would let me have the money —

  MR. STOCKS. Let me see, tickets are this day nineteen pound; and your prize is worth eighteen pound eighteen shillings; so if you give me two shillings, which are the difference, we shall be quit.

  COACHMAN. How, sir! how!

  MR. STOCKS. Upon my word, friend, I state the account right, —

  COACHMAN. Oh, the devil! and have I given three pound for the chance of losing two shillings more?

  MR. STOCKS. Alas, sir! I cannot help ill fortune. — You have had ill luck; it might have come up a hundred, or a thousand, or ten thousand.

  COACHMAN. Ten thousand! — ten thousand devils take you all. Oons! if I can but once get a stock-jobber into my coach, if I don’t break his neck! —

  AIR XVII. Buff Coat.

  In all trades we’ve had

  Some good, and some bad,

  But a stock-jobber has no fellow;

  To hell who would sally,

  Let him go to Change alley,

  There are fiends who will make his soul bellow.

  The lawyer who’s been

  In the pillory seen,

  While eggs his complexion made yellow;

  Nay, the devil’s to blame,

  Or he’ll own to his shame,

  That a stock-jobber has no fellow.

  Enter JA
CK STOCKS and CHLOE. Commissioners advance to open the wheels.

  JACK STOCKS. Well, my dear, this is one of the most unaccountable rambles, just after matrimony! — but you shall always find me the most complaisant of husbands.

  CHLOE. Oh! my lord, I must see all the curiosities; the Tower, and the lions, and Bedlam, and the court, and the opera.

  JACK STOCKS. Yes, yes, my dear, you shall see every thing — but the devil take me if I accompany your ladyship. (I think I will not talk to her of her fortune before to-morrow morning.) — [Aside.

  CHLOE. I will not mention the ten thousand pounds before it comes up: it will be the prettiest surprise! [Aside.

  JACK STOCKS. So, the lottery is going to begin drawing.

 

‹ Prev