Enter LORD BAWBLE.
LORD BAWBLE. So, Old Midnight, what schemes art thou plodding on?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. O fie! my lord; I protest if Sir Thomas and you don’t leave off your riots, you will ruin the reputation of my house for ever. I wonder, too, you have no more regard to your own characters.
LORD BAWBLE. Why, thou old canting offspring of hypocrisy, dost thou think that men of quality are to be confined to rules of decency, like sober citizens, as if they were ashamed of their sins, and afraid they should lose their turn of being Lord Mayor?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. We ought all to be ashamed of our sins. O my lord, my lord, had you but heard that excellent sermon on Kennington Common, it would have made you ashamed: I am sure it had so good an effect upon me, that I shall be ashamed of my sins as long as I live.
LORD BAWBLE. Why don’t you leave them off then, and lay down your house?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Alas, I can’t, I can’t; I was bred up in the way: but I repent heartily; I repent every hour of my life; and that I hope will make amends.
LORD BAWBLE. Well, where is my Jenny Ranter?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Ah, poor Jenny! Poor Jenny is gone. I shall never see her more; she was the best of girls: it almost breaks my tender heart to think on’t; nay, I shall never out-live her loss (crying). My lord, Sir Thomas and you forgot to pay for that bowl of punch last night.
LORD BAWBLE. Damn your punch! is my dear Jenny dead?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Worse, if possible. She is — she is turned Methodist, and married to one of the brethren.
LORD BAWBLE. O, if that be all, we shall have her again.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Alas! I fear not; for they are powerful men — But pray, my lord, how go the finances, for I have such a piece of goods, such a girl just arrived out of the country! — upon my soul as pure a virgin — for I have known her whole bringing up: she is a relation of mine; her father left me her guardian. I have just brought her from a boarding-school to have her under my own eye, and complete her education.
LORD BAWBLE. Where is she? let me see her!
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Not a step without the Ready. I told you I was her guardian, and I shall not betray my trust.
LORD BAWBLE. If I like her — upon my honour —
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I have too much value for your lordship’s honour, to have it left in pawn. Besides, I have more right honourable honour in my hands unredeemed already, than I know what to do with. However, I think you may depend on my honour; deposit a cool hundred, and you shall see her; and then take either the lady or the money.
LORD BAWBLE. I know thee to be inexorable. I’ll step home and fetch the money. I gave that sum to my wife this morning to buy her clothes. I’ll take it from her again, and let her tick with the tradesmen. Lookye, if this be stale goods, I’ll break every window in the house.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I’ll give you leave. — He’ll be tired of her in a week, and then I may dispose of her again. I am afraid I did wrong in putting her off for a virgin, for she’ll certainly discover she is married. However, I can forswear the knowing it. [Zorobabel brought in, in a chair with the curtains drawn. O here’s one of my sober customers — Mr. Zorobabel, is it you? I am your worship’s most obedient servant.
MR. ZOROBABEL. How do you do, Mrs. Midnight? I hope nobody sees or overhears. This is an early hour for me to visit at. I have but just been at home to dress me since I came from the Alley.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I suppose your worship’s hands are pretty full there now with your lottery-tickets?
MR. ZOROBABEL. Fuller than I desire, Mrs. Midnight, I assure you. We hoped to have brought them to seven pounds before this; that would have been a pretty comfortable interest for our money. But, have you any worth seeing in your house?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. O Mr. Zorobabel! such a piece! such an angel!
MR. ZOROBABEL. Ay, ay, where? where?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Here in the house.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Let me see her this instant!
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Sure nothing was ever so unfortunate.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Hey! what?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. O sir! not thinking to see your worship this busy time, I have promised her to Lord Bawble.
MR. ZOROBABEL. How, Mrs. Midnight, promise her to a lord without offering her to me first? Let me tell you, ‘Tis an affront not only to me, but to all my friends: and you deserve never to have any but Christians in your house again.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Marry forbid! Don’t utter such curses against me.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Who is it supports you? Who is it can support you? Who have any money besides us?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Pray your worship forgive me.
MR. ZOROBABEL. No, I will deal higher for the future with those who are better acquainted with lords; they will know whom to prefer. I must tell you, you are a very ungrateful woman. I know a woman of fashion at St. James’s end of the town, where I might deal cheaper than with yourself; though I own, indeed, yours is rather the more reputable house of the two.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. But my lord hath never seen her yet.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Hath he not? Why then he never shall, till I have done with her: she’ll be good enough for a lord half a year hence. Come, fetch her down, fetch her down. How long hath she been in town?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Not two hours. Pure country innocent flesh and blood. — But what shall I say to my lord?
MR. ZOROBABEL. Say any thing: put off somebody else upon him; a stale woman of quality, or somebody who hath been in Westminster Hall and the newspapers.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Well, I’ll do the best I can; though, upon my honour, I was to have had two hundred guineas from my lord.
MR. ZOROBABEL. TWO hundred promises you mean; but had it been ready cash, I’ll make you amends if I like her; we’ll never differ about the price; so fetch her, fetch her.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I will, an’t please your worship. [Exit.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Soh! the money of Christian men pays for the beauty of Christian women. A good exchange!
Enter MRS. MIDNIGHT.
[A noise without.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Oh, sir, here are some noisy people coming this way; slip into the next room: I am as tender of your reputation as of my own.
MR. ZOROBABEL. You are a sensible woman, and I commend your care; for reputation is the very soul of a Jew.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Go in here, I will quickly clear the coast for you again. [Exit Zorobabel.] Now for my gentlemen; and if I mistake not their voices, one is an opera-singer, and the other a singer in one of our play-houses.
Enter SIGNIOR CANTILENO and MR. BALLAD.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. What is the matter, gentlemen? what is the matter?
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Begar I vil ave de woman; begar I vil ave her.
MR. BALLAD. You must win her first, Signior; and if you can gain her affections, I am too much an Englishman to think of restraining her from pursuing her own will.
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Never fear, me vin her. No English woman can withstand de charms of my voice.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. If he begins to sing, there will be no end on ‘t. I must go look after my young lady. [Exit.
SONG.
CANT. Music sure hath charms to move,
With my song, with my song I’ll charm my love.
This good land where money grows,
Well the price of singing knows:
Hither all the warblers throng;
Taking money,
Milk and honey,
Taking money for a song.
MR. BALLAD. Ha ha, ha! What the devil should an
Italian singer do with a mistress?
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Ask your women, who are in love wit de Italian singers.
SONG.
See, while I strike the vocal lyre,
Beauty languish, languish and expire:
Like turtle-doves, in a wooing fit,
See the blooming charmers sit;
Softly sighing,
Gently dying,
While sweet sounds to raptures move:
Trembling, thrilling,
Sweetly killing,
Airs that fan the wings of love.
SONG.
MR. BALLAD. Be gone, you shame of human race,
The noble Roman soil’s disgrace;
Nor vainly with a Briton dare
Attempt to win a British fair.
For manly charms the British dame
Shall feel a fiercer, nobler flame:
To manly numbers lend her ear,
And scorn thy soft enervate air.
Enter a PORTER.
PORTER [To Cantileno]. Sir, the lady’s in the next room.
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Ver vel. Begar I vil ave her.
MR. BALLAD. I’ll follow you, and see how far the charms of your voice will prevail.
Enter MR. ZOROBABEL, MRS. MIDNIGHT, and WIFE.
MRS. MIDNIGHT [To her, entering]. I am going to introduce your ladyship to one of our fine gentlemen whom I told you of.
WIFE [surveying him awkwardly]. Is this a beau, and a fine gentleman? — By goles, Mr. Thomas is a finer gentleman, in my opinion, a thousand times.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Madam, your humble servant; I shall always think myself obliged to Mrs. Midnight, for introducing me to a young lady of your perfect beauty. Pray, madam, how long have you been in town?
WIFE. Why, I have been in town about three hours: I am but a stranger here, sir; but I was very lucky to meet with this civil gentlewoman and this fine lady, to teach me how to dress and behave myself. Sir, I would not but be a fine lady for all the world.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Madam, you are in the right on’t: and this soft hand, this white neck, and these sweet lips were formed for no other purpose.
WIFE. Let me alone, Mun, will you; I won’t be pulled and hauled about by you, I won’t. For I am very sure you don’t kiss half so sweet as Mr. Thomas.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Nay, be not coy, my dear; if you will suffer me to kiss you, I will make you the finest of ladies; you shall have jewels equal to a woman of quality: — nay, I will furnish a house for you in any part of the town, and you shall ride in a fine gilt chair, carried by two stout fellows, that I will keep for no other purpose.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Madam, if you will but like this gentleman, he’ll make you a fine lady: ‘Tis he, and some more of his acquaintance, that make half the fine ladies in the town.
WIFE. Ay! Why, then I will like him, — I will say I do, which I suppose is the same thing. [Aside.] But when shall I have all these fine things? for I long to begin.
MR. ZOROBABEL. And so do I, my angel.
[Offering to kiss her.
WIFE. — Nay, I won’t kiss any more till I have something in hand, that I am resolved of.
MRS. MIDNIGHT [To Zorobabel]. Fetch her some baubles; any toys will do.
WIFE. But if you will fetch me all the things you promised me, you shall kiss me as long as you please.
MR. ZOROBABEL. But when I have done all these things you must never see any other man but me.
WIFE. Must not I? — But I don’t like that. And will you stay with me always then?
MR. ZOROBABEL. NO; I shall only come to see you in the evening.
WIFE. (O then it will be well enough, for I will see whom I please all the day, and you shall know nothing of the matter.) [Aside.] Indeed I won’t see anybody else but you; indeed I won’t. But do go fetch me these fine things.
MR. ZOROBABEL. I go, my dear. Mrs. Midnight, pray take care of her. I never saw any one so pretty nor so silly.
WIFE. I heard you, sir; but you shall find I have sense enough to out-wit you. Well, Miss Jenny may stay in the country if she will; and see nothing but the great jolly parson, who never gives any thing but a nosegay or a handful of nuts for a kiss. But where’s the young lady that was here just now? for to my mind I am in a new world, and my head is quite turned giddy.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. It is a common effect, madam, which the town air hath on young ladies, when first they come into it.
Enter SIGNIOR CANTILENO.
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Begar, dat dam English balladsinging dog has got away de woman — ah, pardie — voila un autre — [Going towards her.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Hold, hold;, Signior; this lady is not for you. She is a woman of quality, and her price is a little beyond your pocket.
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Begar, I like none but de woman of quality. And you no know de price of my pocket — See here — begar here are fifty guinea — dey are not above de value of two song.
SONG.
To beauty compared, pale gold I despise,
No jewels can sparkle like Cælia’s bright eyes:
Let misers with pleasure survey their bright mass:
With far greater raptures I view my fin? lass:
Gold locked in my coffers for me has no charms,
Then its value I own,
Then I prize it alone,
When it tempts blooming beauty to fly to my arms.
WIFE. This is certainly one of those operish singers Miss Jenny used to talk of, and to mimic: she taught me to mimic them too.
RECITATIVE.
CANT. Brightest nymph, turn here thy eyes,
Behold thy swain despairs and dies.
WIFE. A voice so sweet can not despair,
Unless from deafness of the fair;
Such sounds must move the dullest ear:
Less sweet the warbling nightingale;
Less sweet the breeze sweeps through the vale.
SONG.
CANT. Sweetest cause of all my pain,
Pride and glory of the plain,
See my anguish,
See me languish:
Pity thy expiring swain.
WIFE. Gentle youth, of my disdain,
Ah, too cruel you complain;
My tender heart
Feels greater smart;
Pity me, expiring swain.
CANT. Will you then all my pangs despise?
Will nothing your disdain remove?
WIFE. Can you not read my wishing eyes?
Ah, must I tell you that I love?
CANT. I faint, I die.
WIFE. And so do I.
MR. Ballad enters, and sings.
SONG.
Turn hither your eyes, bright maid,
Turn hither with all your charms;
Behold a jolly young blade,
Who longs to be clasped in your arms:
To sighing and whining,
To sobbing and pining,
Then merrily bid adieu.
CANT. See how I expire,
BAL. See how I’m on fire,
And burn, my dear nymph, for you.
WIFE. Thus strongly pursued,
By two lovers woo’d,
What shall a poor woman do?
But a lover in flames,
Sure most pity claims,
So, jolly lad, I’m for you.
Enter MRS. MIDNIGHT.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Gentlemen, I must beg you would go into another room; for my Lord Bawble is just coming, and he hath bespoke this. Signior Cantileno. Le diable! one of our directors! I would not ave him see me here for de varld.
WIFE. Is my lord come? How eagerly I long to see him?
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Allons, madam.
WIFE. No, I will stay with my lord.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. He is just coming in. Upon my soul I will bring her to you presently.
SIGNIOR CANTILENO. Well, you are de woman of honour.
MR. BALLAD. This new face will not come to my turn yet; so I will to my dear Tawdry.
Enter LORD BAWBLE.
LORD BAWBLE. Well, I have kept my word; I have brought the ready. [Seeing Wife.] Upon my soul, a fine girl! I suppose this is she you told me of?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. What shall I do? [Aside.] Yes, yes, my lord, this is the same: But pray come away; for I can’t bring her to any thing yet: she is so young, if you speak to her, you will frighten her out of her wits; have but a little patience, and I shall bring her to my mind.
LORD BAWBLE. Don’t
tell me of patience; I’ll speak to her now; and I warrant I bring her to my mind.
[They talk apart.
WIFE [at the other end of the stage, looking at my lord]. O, la! that is a fine gentleman, indeed; and yet, who knows but Mr. Thomas might be just such another, if he had but as fine clothes on? — I wonder he don’t speak to me; to be sure he don’t like me; if he did, he would speak to me; and if he does not presently, the old fellow will be back again, and then I must not talk with him.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Consider, she is just fresh and raw out of the country.
LORD BAWBLE. I like her the better. It is in vain to contend; for by Jupiter, I’ll at her. I know how to deal with country ladies. I learnt the art of making love to them at my election.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 347