Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  MR. MONDISH. Who is he, pray?

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Oh, a fellow who is never out of lace and embroidery — a tall, strapping, well-looking, ill-looking, rascal! whom I would as soon admit into my family as a wolf into a sheep-fold.

  MR. MONDISH. What is his name?

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Gaylove, I think they call him — my blood runs cold when I think of him.

  MR. MONDISH. Sir Simon, you need be under no apprehension: for my Lady Raffler is a woman of that prudence and discretion —

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Yes, sir; but very prudent and discreet women have made very odd monsters of their husbands. I had rather trust to my own prudence than hers, I thank you.

  MR. MONDISH. Was I married to that woman, I should be the most contented man alive; for, on my honour! I think she surpasses the rest of womankind as much in virtue as beauty.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Ha! what!

  MR. MONDISH. Nay more, in my opinion — for, to tell you a truth (which I know you will excuse me for), I do not think her so handsome as the rest of the world think her.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Nor I, neither — I am glad to hear you don’t — I began to be in a heat — But, dear Mondish, though my wife be, as you say, a virtuous woman, and I know she is, I’m sure of it; and was never jealous of her in my life: yet I take virtue to be that sort of gold in a wife, which the less it is tried, the brighter it shines; besides, you know there is a trouble in resisting temptation, and I am willing to spare my wife all the trouble I can.

  Enter a Servant.

  SERVANT. Sir Captain Spark to wait on you.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Who is he, pray?

  MR. MONDISH. A relation of mine, a courtier, and so fine a gentleman, that (if you will believe him) he has had all the fine women in town.

  Enter Captain Spark.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Dear Cousin Mondish, your very humble servant, I only call to ask yon how yon do — for I can’t stay ten minutes with yon — I have just left some ladies, whom I have promised to meet in the park — Harkye [Whispers Mondish.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. I hope my wife is not one of ‘em — A very impudent-looking fellow, this courtier, and has, I warrant, as many cuckolds in the city, as that has debtors at court.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. The devil take me if it is not the very woman! but pray take her, I dangled after her long enough too. You must know the last time I saw her was at an assembly.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. That is another name for a bawdyhouse. [Aside.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. And there I piqued her most confoundedly, so that she vowed she’d never speak to me again; and indeed she kept her word, till yesterday I met her at an auction — there was another lady with her — at first she put on an air of indifference. O ho! thinks I, are you at that sport? I’ll fit you, I warrant. So, sir, I goes up to the other lady, who happened to be her sister, and an intimate acquaintance of mine — But I ask pardon, this is a dull entertainment to you, sir. [To Sir Simon.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Far from it, sir; but I beg I may not be thought impertinent, if I ask whether this lady was short or tall?

  CAPTAIN SPARK. A short woman, sir.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Then I am safe. [Aside.] — But perhaps some people think her tall.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Yes, sir; I know several who think her so.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. I am on the rack. [Aside.] — Sir, I ask ten thousand pardons; but was she a brown or a fair woman?

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Oh, sir, no harm — She was a brown woman, Sir.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. Rather inclining to fair.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Yes, a good deal inclining to fair.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. I am undone! if I was to ask her name, I should hear my own — I will go tear her eyes out — Mr. Mondish, your servant! your servant!

  MR. MONDISH. Be not in such a hurry, Sir Simon.

  SIR SIMON RAFFLER. I am in a great hurry, sir, your humble servant — [Exit.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Pr’ythee, dear coz, what queer fellow is that? Gad, I began to think he suspected me with some relation of his.

  MR. MONDISH. Faith, probable enough — for he would suspect a more unlikely man than you.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Ha, ha! George, I believe I am suspected in town — I believe there are women — I say no more, but I believe there are women, I say no more.

  MR. MONDISH. And upon my soul, I believe thou canst say no more on thy own knowledge. [Aside.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Here, here, you must not ask to see the name. [Pulls out several letters.] May I be curst if this be not from a woman of the first distinction — Nay, if he is here, I must put it up again.

  Enter MR. GAYLOVE.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Good-morrow, George! Ha! Monsieur L’Spark!

  CAPTAIN SPARK. My dear Gaylove, how long hast thou been in town?

  MR. GAYLOVE. About a fortnight, sir.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Mondish, this is the best friend I have in the world; if it had not been for him, I had died of the spleen in country quarters — I made his house my own.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Upon my honour he did, and so entirely, that if he had not been ordered away, I believe I should shortly have given it him.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Thou art a pleasant fellow! but pr’ythee how do all the girls? How do Miss Flirt, and Miss Flareit, Miss Caper, Miss Lisp, and my dear Jenny Thump-floor?

  MR. GAYLOVE. All at your service, sir; but methinks you should have asked after your dear Clarinda.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. O! ay, Clarinda! how does she do? Upon my soul I was fond of that wench; but she grew so fond again, that the world began to take notice of us, and yet if ever anything passed between us, at least any thing that ought not, may I be — But what signifies swearing — Come, I know you are a suspicious rogue.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Far from it — I have always defended you both. For as I am confident she would not grant any thing dishonourable, so I am confident thou wouldst not take it.

  MR. MONDISH. And if you will be evidence for the lady, I will for the gentleman.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Your servant, your servant, my dear friends; you have made me a compliment at a cheap rate; I shall not risk your consciences; yet in my sense of the word dishonourable, you might swear it; for I positively think nothing dishonourable can pass between man and woman.

  MR. MONDISH. Excellent doctrine indeed!

  MR. GAYLOVE. I am not of your opinion: for I think it very dishonourable in a fine gentleman to solicit favours from a lady, and refuse accepting ‘em when she would grant ‘em.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. O! a sad dog! ha, ha, ha!

  MR. MONDISH. Unless it be not in his power to accept ‘em, Gaylove. The bravest fellow may be beaten, you know, without loss of honour.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Well, well; you may suspect what you please — You poor devils that never had anything above a sempstress, make such a rout about the reputation of a woman a little above the ordinary rank; you make as much noise in town about a man’s having a woman of quality, as they would in the country if one had run away with a justice of peace’s eldest daughter — Now, to me women of quality are like other women.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Thou knowest no difference, I dare swear.

  Enter a SERVANT.

  SERVANT. Sir, my Lady Fop-hunter’s coach is at the door.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. She has sent it for me; I am to call on her at Lady Sightly’s — damn her! I wish she had forgot the appointment — Gaylove, will you go with me?

  MR. GAYLOVE. No, excuse me.

  CAPTAIN SPARK. Well, gentlemen, I hope you will excuse me too — so, I’m your very humble servant. [Exit.

  MR. MONDISH. I wish thou hadst been here sooner, I have had some rare diversion this morning: here have been Sir Simon and the colonel, and have quarrelled about their wives. But what is better still, the noble captain just now departed hath sent Sir Simon away fully persuaded that he has an affair with his wife.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Then we shall have it in the afternoon at

  MRS. RAFFLER’S tea-table.

  MR. MONDISH. I think you live there
, Gaylove.

  MR. GAYLOVE. I have pretty much lately; for to let you into a secret, George, I have a mistress there.

  MR. MONDISH. What! has the captain infected you, that you are so open-hearted? or is this a particular mark of your confidence in me?

  MR. GAYLOVE. Neither. It is impossible it should be a secret long, and I am not ashamed of having an honourable passion for a woman, from which I hope to reap better fruits than the captain usually proposes from his amours.

  MR. MONDISH. I rather fear thou wilt find worse. These sort of gentlemen are the only persons who engage with women without danger. The reputation of an amour is what they propose, and what they generally effect: for, as they indulge their vanity at the price of all that is dear to a woman, the world is good-natured enough to make one person ridiculously happy, at the expense of making another seriously miserable.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Hang ‘em! I believe they screen more reputations than they hurt — I fancy women, by an affected intimacy with these fellows, have diverted the world from discovering a good substantial amour in another place.

  MR. MONDISH. Do you think so? then I would advise you to introduce my kinsman here to Mrs. Raffler.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Are there reputations there, then, that want cloaks?

  MR. MONDISH. Ha, ha, ha!

  MR. GAYLOVE. Nay, pr’ythee tell me seriously, for the deuce take me, if these two years’ retirement hath not made me such a stranger to the town —

  MR. MONDISH. Then, seriously, I think there is no cloak wanted; for a fond, credulous husband is the best cloak in the world. And if a man will put his horns in his pocket, none will ever pick his pocket of ‘em — If he will be so good as to be very easy under being cuckold, the good-natured world will suffer his wife to be easy under making him one.

  MR. GAYLOVE. A word to the wise, George — But, faith! thou hast informed me of what I did not suspect before.

  MR. MONDISH. The wise do not want a word to inform them of what they knew before.

  MR. GAYLOVE. What dost thou mean?

  MR. MONDISH. Then in a word, my close friend, this mighty secret, which you have discovered to me, I knew some time before. Nay, and I can tell you another thing — the world knows it.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Let ‘em know it. I am so far from being ashamed of my passion, that I’m vain of my choice.

  MR. MONDISH. Ha, ha, ha! this is excellent in a fellow of thy sense! I shall begin shortly to look on the captain as no extraordinary character — Vain of your choice! Ha, ha, ha! now am I vain of my good nature — for I could so reduce that vanity of yours!

  MR. GAYLOVE. I suppose thou art prepared with some cool lecture of modem economy. I know thee to be one of those who are afraid to be happy out of the road of right wisdom: I tell thee, George, let the world say what they will, there is more true happiness in the folly of love than in all the wisdom of philosophy.

  MR. MONDISH. Ha, ha, ha!

  MR. GAYLOVE. It is the fashion of the world to laugh at a man who owns his passion, and thou art a true follower of the world.

  MR. MONDISH. Thou art a follower of the world, I am sure. You must be modest, indeed, to be ashamed of your passion, since you have such multitudes to keep you in countenance.

  MR. GAYLOVE. So much the better. Rivals keep a man’s passion up; it gives continual new pleasure in the arms of a mistress to think half the coxcombs in the town are sighing for what you are in possession of.

  MR. MONDISH. Ay, faith, and the gallant has a pleasure sometimes to think a husband is in possession of what he is weary of.

  MR. GAYLOVE. How the happy man triumphs in his heart, when he sees his woman walking through a crowd of fellows in the mall, or a drawing-room, some sighing, some ogling; all envying him: and retiring immediately to toast her at the next tavern.

  MR. MONDISH. When he wishes himself, as heartily as they do themselves, with her, which perhaps some of them are in their turn. And I would not have you too sure that may not be your case.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Pugh! you have heard Spark talk of her, I suppose; or heard her talked of for Spark — I should be no more jealous of her with him, than with one of her own sex. Now, in my opinion, a squirrel is a more dangerous rival than a beau; for he is more liable to share her heart, and —

  MR. MONDISH. Why, this is a good credulous marriageable opinion, and would sit well on a husband.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Well! and I see no terrors in that name.

  MR. MONDISH. Nor I neither. I think it a good harmless name. Besides, the colonel is a rare instance of the contrary. If a man can be happy in marriage, I dare swear he is: his wife is young, handsome, witty, and constant — in his opinion.

  MR. GAYLOVE. And that is the same as if she were so in reality; for, if a man be happy in his own opinion, I see little reason why he should trouble himself about the world’s.

  MR. MONDISH. Or suppose she were inconstant, if she is fond of you while you are with her, why should you like her the less? I don’t see why he is not as selfish who would love by himself, as he who would drink by himself. Sure he is a nice and a dull sot, who quarrels with his wine, because another drinks out of the same cask. Nay, perhaps, it were better to have two or three companions in both, and would prevent the glass coming round too fast.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Thou art in a strange whimsical humour to-day. I fancy something has disturbed you.

  MR. MONDISH. No, faith! though something has happened which might have disturbed another — I have been discarded this morning. Here’s my discharge, do you know the hand?

  [Giving the letter.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Hum— “I suppose you will be surprised — woman — imprudent — a passion — convinced — falsest of mankind— “

  MR. MONDISH. His countenance does not alter — He does not know her hand, sure. [Aside.

  MR. GAYLOVE. [Reading.] “Friend you are to — Mrs. Raffler — the devil.”

  MR. MONDISH. What think you now?

  MR. GAYLOVE. Think! that thou art a happy man.

  MR. MONDISH. I hope, then, you will not interfere with my happiness.

  MR. GAYLOVE. Not I, upon my honour.

  MR. MONDISH. Thou art an obliging, good-natured fellow; and now I will wait on you where you please to dinner.

  MR. GAYLOVE. I have a short visit to make, but will meet you any where at three.

  MR. MONDISH. At the Key and Garter, if you please.

  MR. GAYLOVE. I will be there, adieu. [Exit.

  MR. MONDISH. This cool reception of my letter ill agrees with the warm professions he made before. Nor did he show a sufficient surprise — she certainly had acquainted him with it: it is natural to suppose, her fear, that I might discover it to him, might set her on trying to be beforehand. And yet this behaviour in Gaylove is not agreeable to his nature, which I know to be rather too open. I will find the bottom of this out — I will see her in the afternoon myself — damn her! I was weary of the affair, and she has found out the only way to renew my eagerness — the whole pleasure of life is pursuit:

  Our game though we are eager to embrace,

  The pleasure’s always over with the chase.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  Sir Simons House.

  Enter LADY RAFFLER, and MRS. RAFFLER.

  LADY RAFFLER. Never tell me, sister, it is notorious that a woman of my virtue, and discretion, and prudence, should be eternally tormented with the suspicions of a jealous-pated husband.

  MRS. RAFFLER. I own it, but I only propose to you the best method to quiet them. You cannot alter his nature, and if you would condescend to flatter it a little, you would make your life much easier.

  LADY RAFFLER. I flatter it! I assure you, I sha’n’t. If my virtue be not clear enough of itself, I shall use no art to make it so. — Must I give a husband an account of all my words and actions? must I satisfy his groundless fears? I am no such poor-spirited wretch; and I solemnly declare, if I knew any one thing that would make him more jealous than another I would do it.

  MRS. RA
FFLER. Then you would do wrong, my dear, and only revenge your husband’s jealousy on yourself.

  LADY RAFFLER. Sister, sister, don’t preach up any of your maxims to me. If the colonel was of Sir Simon’s temper, you would lead a worse life than I do.

  MRS. RAFFLER. Indeed, you are mistaken; if my husband was as jealous and as cunning as the devil, I would engage to make an arrant ass of him.