ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
_The Bar of the_ “_Windmill Inn_” _at Salt Hill_.
MR. _and_ MRS. NEWINGTON, _the Landlord and Landlady_.
_Landlady_. ’Tis an unpossibility, Mr. Newington; and that’s enough.Say no more about it; ’tis an unpossibility in the natur of things.(_She ranges jellies_, _etc._, _in the Bar_.) And pray, do you take yourgreat old fashioned tankard, Mr. Newington, from among my jellies andconfectioneries.
_Landlord_ (_takes his tankard and drinks_). Anything for a quiet life.If it is an impossibility, I’ve no more to say; only, for the soul of me,I can’t see the great unpossibility, wife.
_Landlady_. Wife, indeed!—wife!—wife! wife every minute.
_Landlord_. Heyday! Why, what a plague would you have me call you? Theother day you quarrelled with me for calling you Mrs. Landlady.
_Landlady_. To be sure I did, and very proper in me I should. I’veturned off three waiters and five chambermaids already, for screamingafter me _Mrs. Landlady_! _Mrs. Landlady_! But ’tis all your illmanners.
_Landlord_. Ill manners! Why, if I may be so bold, if you are not Mrs.Landlady, in the name of wonder what are you?
_Landlady_. Mrs. Newington, Mr. Newington.
_Landlord_ (_drinks_). Mrs. Newington, Mr. Newington drinks your health;for I suppose I must not be landlord any more in my own house (_shrugs_).
_Landlady_. Oh, as to that, I have no objections nor impediments to yourbeing called _Landlord_. You look it, and become it very proper.
_Landlord_. Why, yes, indeed, thank my tankard, I do look it, and becomeit, and am nowise ashamed of it; but everyone to their mind, as you,wife, don’t fancy the being called Mrs. Landlady.
_Landlady_. To be sure I don’t. Why, when folks hear the old fashionedcry of Mrs. Landlady! Mrs. Landlady! who do they expect, think you, tosee, but an overgrown, fat, featherbed of a woman, coming waddling alongwith her thumbs sticking on each side of her apron, o’ this fashion?Now, to see me coming, nobody would take me to be a landlady.
_Landlord_. Very true, indeed, wife—Mrs. Newington, I mean—I ask pardon;but now to go on with what we were saying about the unpossibility ofletting that old lady, and the civil-spoken young lady there above, havethem there rooms for another day.
_Landlady_. Now, Mr. Newington, let me hear no more about that oldgentlewoman, and that civil-spoken young lady. Fair words cost nothing;and I’ve a notion that’s the cause they are so plenty with the younglady. Neither o’ them, I take it, by what they’ve ordered since theircoming into the house, are such grand folk, that one need be so_petticular_ about them.
_Landlord_. Why, they came only in a chaise and pair, to be sure; Ican’t deny that.
_Landlady_. But, bless my stars! what signifies talking? Don’t youknow, as well as I do, Mr. Newington, that to-morrow is Eton Montem, andthat if we had twenty times as many rooms and as many more to the back ofthem, it would not be one too many for all the company we’ve a right toexpect, and those the highest quality of the land? Nay, what do I talkof to-morrow? isn’t my Lady Piercefield and suite expected? and,moreover, Mr. and Miss Bursal’s to be here, and will call for as much inan hour as your civil-spoken young lady in a twelvemonth, I reckon. So,Mr. Newington, if you don’t think proper to go up and inform the ladiesabove, that the Dolphin rooms are not for them, I must _speak_ myself,though ’tis a thing I never do when I can help it.
_Landlord_ (_aside_). She not like to speak! (_Aloud_.) My dear, youcan speak a power better than I can; so take it all upon yourself, if youplease; for, old-fashioned as I and my tankard here be, I can’t make aspeech that borders on the uncivil order, to a lady like, for the lifeand lungs of me. So, in the name of goodness, do you go up, Mrs.Newington.
_Landlady_. And so I will, Mr. Newington. Help ye! Civilities andrarities are out o’ season for them that can’t pay for them in thisworld; and very proper.
[_Exit Landlady_.]
_Landlord_. And very proper! Ha! who comes yonder? The Eton chap whowheedled me into lending him my best hunter last year, and was theruination of him; but that must be paid for, wheedle or no wheedle; and,for the matter of wheedling, I’d stake this here Mr. Wheeler, that ismaking up to me, do you see, against e’er a boy, or hobbledehoy, in allEton, London, or Christendom, let the other be who he will.
_Enter_ WHEELER.
_Wheeler_. A fine day, Mr. Newington.
_Landlord_. A fine day, Mr. Wheeler.
_Wheel._ And I hope, for _your_ sake, we may have as fine a day for theMontem to-morrow. It will be a pretty penny in your pocket! Why, allthe world will be here; and (looking round at the jellies, etc.) so muchthe better for them; for here are good things enough, and enough forthem. And here’s the best thing of all, the good old tankard still; notempty, I hope.
_Landlord_. Not empty, I hope. Here’s to you, Mr. Wheeler.
_Wheel._ Mr. Wheeler!—_Captain_ Wheeler, if you please.
_Landlord_. _You_, Captain Wheeler! Why, I thought in former times itwas always the oldest scholar at Eton that was Captain at the Montems;and didn’t Mr. Talbot come afore you?
_Wheel._ Not at all; we came on the same day. Some say I came first;some say Talbot. So the choice of which of us is to be captain is to beput to the vote amongst the lads—most votes carry it; and I have mostvotes, I fancy; so I shall be captain, to-morrow, and a pretty deal of_salt_ {139} I reckon I shall pocket. Why, the collection at the lastMontem, they say, came to a plump thousand! No bad thing for a youngfellow to set out with for Oxford or Cambridge—hey?
_Landlord_. And no bad thing, before he sets out for Cambridge orOxford, ’twould be for a young gentleman to pay his debts.
_Wheel._ Debts! Oh, time enough for that. I’ve a little account withyou in horses, I know; but that’s between you and me, you know—mum.
_Landlord_. Mum me no mums, Mr. Wheeler. Between you and me, my besthunter has been ruinationed; and I can’t afford to be mum. So you’lltake no offence if I speak; and as you’ll set off to-morrow, as soon asthe Montem’s over, you’ll be pleased to settle with me some way or otherto-day, as we’ve no other time.
_Wheel._ No time so proper, certainly. Where’s the little account?—Ihave money sent me for my Montem dress, and I can squeeze that much outof it. I came home from Eton on purpose to settle with you. But as tothe hunter, you must call upon Talbot—do you understand? to pay for him;for though Talbot and I had him the same day, ’twas Talbot did for him,and Talbot must pay. I spoke to him about it, and charged him toremember you; for I never forget to speak a good word for my friends.
_Landlord_. So I perceive.
_Wheel._ I’ll make bold just to give you my opinion of these jellieswhilst you are getting my account, Mr. Newington.
(_He swallows down a jelly or two_—_Landlord is going_.)
_Enter_ TALBOT.
_Talbot_. Hallo, Landlord! where are making off so fast? Here, yourjellies are all going as fast as yourself.
_Wheel._ (_aside_). Talbot!—I wish I was a hundred miles off.
_Landlord_. You are heartily welcome, Mr. Talbot. A good morning toyou, sir; I’m glad to see you—very glad to see you, Mr. Talbot.
_Talb._ Then shake hands, my honest landlord.
(_Talbot_, _in shaking hands with him_, _puts a purse into the landlord’s hands_.)
_Landlord_. What’s here? Guineas?
_Talb._ The hunter, you know; since Wheeler won’t pay, I must—that’sall. Good morning.
_Wheel._ (_aside_). What a fool!
(_Landlord_, _as Talbot is going_, _catches hold of his coat_.)
_Landlord_. Hold, Mr. Talbot, this won’t do!
_Talb._ Won’t it? Well, then, my watch must go.
_Landlord_. Nay, nay! but you are in such
a hurry to pay—you won’t heara man. Half this is enough for your share o’ the mischief, in allconscience. Mr. Wheeler, there, had the horse on the same day.
_Wheel._ But Bursal’s my witness—
_Talb._ Oh, say no more about witnesses; a man’s conscience is alwayshis best witness, or his worst. Landlord, take your money, and no morewords.
_Wheel._ This is very genteel of you, Talbot. I always thought youwould do the genteel thing as I knew you to be so generous andconsiderate.
_Talb._ Don’t waste your fine speeches, Wheeler, I advise you, thiselection time. Keep them for Bursal or Lord John, or some of those wholike them. They won’t go down with me. Good morning to you. I give younotice, I’m going back to Eton as fast as I can gallop; and who knowswhat plain speaking may do with the Eton lads? I may be captain yet,Wheeler. Have a care! Is my horse ready there?
_Landlord_. Mr. Talbot’s horse, there! Mr. Talbot’s horse, I say.
_Talbot sings_.
“He carries weight—he rides a race— ’Tis for a thousand pound!”
(_Exit Talbot_.)
_Wheel._ And, dear me! I shall be left behind. A horse for me, pray; ahorse for Mr. Wheeler!
(_Exit Wheeler_.)
_Landlord_ (_calls very loud_). Mr. Talbot’s horse! Hang the hostler!I’ll saddle him myself.
(_Exit Landlord_.)
SCENE II.
_A Dining room in the Inn at Salt Hill_.
MRS. TALBOT _and_ LOUISA.
_Louisa_ (_laughing_). With what an air Mrs. Landlady made her exit!
_Mrs. Talbot_. When I was young, they say, I was proud; but I am humbleenough now: these petty mortifications do not vex me.
_Louisa_. It is well my brother was gone before Mrs. Landlady made herentree; for if he had heard her rude speech, he would at least have givenher the retort courteous.
_Mrs. Talb._ Now tell me honestly, my Louisa—You were, a few days ago,at Bursal House. Since you have left it and have felt something of thedifference that is made in this world between splendour and no splendour,you have never regretted that you did not stay there, and that you didnot bear more patiently with Miss Bursal’s little airs?
_Louisa_. Never for a moment. At first Miss Bursal paid me a vast dealof attention; but, for what reason I know not, she suddenly changed hermanner, grew first strangely cold, then condescendingly familiar, and atlast downright rude. I could not guess the cause of these variations.
_Mrs. Talb._ (_aside_) I guess the cause too well.
_Louisa_. But as I perceived the lady was out of tune, I was in haste toleave her. I should make a very bad, and, I am sure, a miserable toadeater. I had much rather, if I were obliged to choose, earn my ownbread, than live as toad eater with anybody.
_Mrs. Talb._ Fine talking, dear Louisa!
_Louisa_. Don’t you believe me to be in earnest, mother! To be sure,you cannot know what I would do, unless I were put to the trial.
_Mrs. Talb._ Nor you either, my dear.
(_She sighs_, _and is silent_.)
_Louisa_ (_takes her mother’s hand_). What is the matter, dear mother?You used to say, that seeing my brother always made you feel ten yearsyounger; yet even while he was here, you had, in spite of all yourefforts to conceal them, those sudden fits of sadness.
_Mrs. Talb._ The Montem—is not it to-morrow? Ay, but my boy is not sureof being captain.
_Louisa_. No; there is one Wheeler, who, as he says, is most likely tobe chosen captain. He has taken prodigious pains to flatter and win overmany to his interest. My brother does not so much care about it; he isnot avaricious.
_Mrs. Talb._ I love your generous spirit and his! but, alas! my dear,people may live to want, and wish for money, without being avaricious. Iwould not say a word to Talbot; full of spirits as he was this morning, Iwould not say a word to him, till after the Montem, of what has happened.
_Louisa_. And what has happened, dear mother? Sit down,—you tremble.
_Mrs. Talb._ (_sits down and puts a letter into Louisa’s hand_.) Readthat, love. A messenger brought me that from town a few hours ago.
_Louisa_ (_reads_). “By an express from Portsmouth, we hear the _BombayCastle_ East Indiaman is lost, with all your fortune on board.” _All_!I hope there is something left for you to live upon.
_Mrs. Talb._ About 150 pounds a year for us all.
_Louisa_. That is enough, is it not, for _you_?
_Mrs. Talb._ For me, love? I am an old woman, and want but little inthis world, and shall be soon out of it.
_Louisa_ (_kneels down beside her_). Do not speak so, dearest mother.
_Mrs. Talb._ Enough for me, love! Yes, enough, and too much for me. Iam not thinking of myself.
_Louisa_. Then, as to my brother, he has such abilities, and suchindustry, he will make a fortune at the bar for himself, most certainly.
_Mrs. Talb._ But his education is not completed. How shall we providehim with money at Cambridge?
_Louisa_. This Montem. The last time the captain had eight hundred, thetime before a thousand, pounds. Oh, I hope—I fear! Now, indeed, I knowthat, without being avaricious, we may want, and wish for money.
(_Landlady’s voice heard behind the scenes_.)
_Landlady_. Waiter!—Miss Bursal’s curricle, and Mr. Bursal’s_vis-à-vis_. Run! see that the Dolphin’s empty. I say run!—run!
_Mrs. Talb._ I will rest for a few moments upon the sofa, in thisbedchamber, before we set off.
_Louisa_ (_goes to open the door_). They have bolted or locked it. Howunlucky!
(_She turns the key_, _and tries to unlock the door_.)
_Enter_ WAITER.
_Waiter_. Ladies, I’m sorry—Miss Bursal and Mr. Bursal are come—justcoming upstairs.
_Mrs. Talb._ Then, will you be so good, sir, as to unlock this door?
(_Waiter tries to unlock the door_.)
_Waiter_. It must be bolted on the inside. Chambermaid! Sally! Areyou within there? Unbolt this door.
_Mr. Bursal’s voice behind the scenes_. Let me have a basin of good soupdirectly.
_Waiter_. I’ll go round and have the door unbolted immediately, ladies.
(_Exit Waiter_.)
_Enter_ MISS BURSAL, _in a riding dress_, _and with a long whip_.
_Miss Bursal_. Those creatures, the ponies, have a’most pulled my ’andoff. Who ’ave we ’ere? Ha! Mrs. Talbot! Louisa, ’ow are ye? I’m sovastly glad to see you; but I’m so shocked to ’ear of the loss of theBombay Castle. Mrs. Talbot, you look but poorly; but this Montem willput everybody in spirits. I ’ear everybody’s to be ’ere; and my brothertells me, ’twill be the finest ever seen at _H_Eton. Louisa, my dear,I’m sorry I’ve not a seat for you in my curricle for to-morrow; but I’vepromised Lady Betty; so, you know, ’tis impossible for me.
_Louisa_. Certainly; and it would be impossible for me to leave mymother at present.
_Chambermaid_ (_opens the bedchamber door_). The room’s ready now,ladies.
_Mrs. Talb._ Miss Bursal, we intrude upon you no longer.
_Miss Burs._ Nay, why do you decamp, Mrs. Talbot? I ’ad a thousandthings to say to you, Louisa; but am so tired and so annoyed—
(_Seats herself_. _Exeunt Mrs. Talbot, Louisa and Chambermaid_.)
_Enter_ MR. BURSAL, _with a basin of soup in his hand_.
_Mr. Burs._ Well, thank my stars the Airly Castle is safe in the Downs.
_Miss Burs._ Mr. Bursal, can you inform me why Joe, my groom, does notmake his appearance?
_Mr. Burs._ (_eating and speaking_). Y
es, that I can, child; because heis with his ’orses, where he ought to be. ’Tis fit they should be lookedafter well; for they cost me a pretty penny—more than their heads areworth, and yours into the bargain; but I was resolved, as we were to cometo this Montem, to come in style.
_Miss Burs._ In style, to be sure; for all the world’s to be here—theKing, the Prince of W_h_ales, and Duke o’ York, and all the first people;and we shall cut a dash! Dash! dash! will be the wordto-morrow!—(_playing with her whip_).
_Mr. Burs._ (_aside_). Dash! dash! ay, just like her brother. He’ll payaway finely, I warrant, by the time he’s her age. Well, well, he canafford it; and I do love to see my children make a figure for theirmoney. As Jack Bursal says, what’s money for, if it e’nt to make afigure. (_Aloud_). There’s your brother Jack, now. The extravagantdog! he’ll have such a dress as never was seen, I suppose, at this hereMontem. Why, now, Jack Bursal spends more money at Eton, and has more tospend, than my Lord John, though my Lord John’s the son of a marchioness.
_Miss Burs._ Oh, that makes no difference nowadays. I wonder whetherher ladyship is to be at this Montem. The only good I ever got out ofthese stupid Talbots was an introduction to their friend LadyPiercefield. What she could find to like in the Talbots, heaven knows.I’ve a notion she’ll drop them, when she hears of the loss of the BombayCastle.
_Enter a_ WAITER, _with a note_.
_Waiter_. A note from my Lady Piercefield, sir.
_Miss B._ Charming woman! Is she here, pray, sir?
_Waiter_. Just come. Yes, ma’am.
(_Exit Waiter_.)
_Miss B._ Well, Mr. Bursal, what is it?
_Mr. B._ (_reads_). “Business of importance to communicate—” Hum! whatcan it be?—(_going_).
_Miss B._ (_aside_). Perhaps some match to propose for me! (_Aloud_).Mr. Bursal, pray before you go to her ladyship, do send my _ooman_ to meto make me presentable.
(_Exit Miss Bursal at one door_.)
_Mr. B._ (_at the opposite door_). “Business of importance!” Hum! I’mglad I’m prepared with a good basin of soup. There’s no doing businesswell upon an empty stomach. Perhaps the business is to lend cash; andI’ve no great stomach for that. But it will be an honour, to be sure.
(_Exit_.)
SCENE III.
_Landlady’s Parlour_.
LANDLADY—MR. FINSBURY, a man-milliner, with bandboxes—a fancy cap, orhelmet, with feathers, in the Landlady’s hand—a satin bag, covered withgold netting, in the man-milliner’s hand—a mantle hanging over his arm.A rough looking Farmer is sitting with his back towards them, eatingbread and cheese, and reading a newspaper.
Landlady. Well, this, to be sure, will be the best dressed Montem thatever was seen at Eton; and you Lon’on gentlemen have the mostfashionablest notions; and this is the most elegantest fancy cap—
_Finsbury_. Why, as you observe, ma’m, that is the most elegant fancycap of them all. That is Mr. Hector Hogmorton’s fancy cap, ma’m; andhere, ma’m, is Mr. Saul’s rich satin bag, covered with gold net. He iscollege salt bearer, I understand, and has a prodigious superb white andgold dress. But, in my humble opinion, ma’m, the marshal’s white andpurple and orange fancy dress, trimmed with silver, will bear the bell;though, indeed, I shouldn’t say that,—for the colonel’s and lieutenant’s,and ensign’s, are beautiful in the extreme. And, to be sure, nothingcould be better imagined than Mr. Marlborough’s lilac and silver, with aRoman cap. And it must be allowed that nothing in nature can have abetter effect than Mr. Drake’s flesh-colour and blue, with this Spanishhat, ma’m, you see.
(_The farmer looks over his shoulder from time to time during this speech_, _with contempt_.)
_Farmer_ (_reads the newspaper_). French fleet at sea—Hum!
_Landlady_. O gemini: Mr. Drake’s Spanish hat is the sweetest, tastiestthing! Mr. Finsbury, I protest—
_Finsb._ Why, ma’m, I knew a lady of your taste couldn’t but approve ofit. My own invention entirely, ma’m. But it’s nothing to the captain’scap, ma’m. Indeed, ma’m, Mr. Wheeler, the captain that is to be, has theprettiest taste in dress. To be sure, his sandals were my suggestion;but the mantle he has the entire credit of, to do him justice; and whenyou see it, ma’m, you will be really surprised; for (for contrast, andelegance, and richness, and lightness, and propriety, and effect, andcostume) you’ve never yet seen anything at all to be compared to CaptainWheeler’s mantle, ma’m.
_Farmer_ (_to the Landlady_). Why, now, pray, Mrs. Landlady, how longmay it have been the fashion for milliners to go about in men’s clothes?
_Landlady_ (_aside to Farmer_). Lord, Mr. Hearty, hush! This is Mr.Finsbury, the great man-milliner.
Farm. The great man-milliner! This is a sight I never thought to see inOld England.
_Finsb._ (_packing up band boxes_). Well, ma’m, I’m glad I have yourapprobation. It has ever been my study to please the ladies.
_Farm._ (_throws a fancy mantle over his frieze coat_). And is this theway to please the ladies, Mrs. Landlady, nowadays?
_Finsb._ (_taking off the mantle_). Sir, with your leave—I askpardon—but the least thing detriments these tender colours; and as youhave just been eating cheese with your hands—
_Farm._ ’Tis my way to eat cheese with my mouth, man.
_Finsb._ _Man_!
_Farm._ I ask pardon—man-milliner, I mean.
_Enter_ LANDLORD.
_Landlord_. Why, wife!
_Landlady_. Wife!
_Landlord_. I ask pardon—Mrs. Newington, I mean. Do you know who themladies are that you have been and turned out of the Dolphin?
_Landlady_ (_alarmed_). Not I, indeed. Who are they, pray? Why, ifthey are quality it’s no fault of mine. It is their own fault forcoming, like scrubs, without four horses. Why, if quality will travelthe road this way, incognito, how can they expect to be known and treatedas quality? ’Tis no fault of mine. Why didn’t you find out sooner whothey were, Mr. Newington? What else, in the ’versal world have you todo, but to go basking about in the yards and places with your tankard inyour hand, from morning till night? What have you else to ruminate, allday long, but to find out who’s who, I say?
_Farm._ Clapper! clapper! clapper! like my mill in a high wind,landlord. Clapper! clapper! clapper!—enough to stun a body.
_Landlord_. That is not used to it; but use is all, they say.
_Landlady_. Will you answer me, Mr. Newington? Who are the grandeesthat were in the Dolphin?—and what’s become on them?
_Landlord_. Grandees was your own word, wife. They be not to callgrandees; but I reckon you’d be sorry not to treat ’em civil, when I tellyou their name is Talbot, mother and sister to our young Talbot, of Eton;he that paid me so handsome for the hunter this very morning.
_Landlady_. Mercy! is that all? What a combustion for nothing in life!
_Finsb._ For nothing in life, as you say, ma’m; that is, nothing in highlife, I’m sure, ma’m; nay, I dare a’most venture to swear. Would youbelieve it, Mr. Talbot is one of the few young gentlemen of Eton that hasnot bespoke from me a fancy dress for this grand Montem?
_Landlady_. There, Mr. Newington; there’s your Talbot for you! andthere’s your grandees! O trust me, I know your scrubs at first sight.
_Landlord_. Scrubs, I don’t, nor can’t, nor won’t call them that paytheir debts honestly. Scrubs, I don’t, nor won’t, nor can’t, call themthat behave as handsome as young Mr. Talbot did here to me this morningabout the hunter. A scrub he is not, wife. Fancy-dress or nofancy-dress, Mr. Finsbury, this young gentleman is no scrub.
_Finsb._ Dear me! ’Twas not I said _scrub_. Did I say scrub?
_Farm._ No matter if you did.
_Fi
nsb._ No matter, certainly; and yet it is a matter; for I’m confidentI wouldn’t for the world leave it in anyone’s power to say that Isaid—that I called—any young gentleman of Eton a _scrub_! Why, you know,sir, it might breed a riot!
_Farm._ And a pretty figure you’d make in a riot!
_Landlady_. Pray let me hear nothing about riots in my house.
_Farm._ Nor about scrubs.
_Finsb._ But I beg leave to explain, gentlemen. All I ventured toremark or suggest was, that as there was some talk of Mr. Talbot’s beingcaptain to-morrow, I didn’t conceive how he could well appear without anydress. That was all, upon my word and honour. A good morning to you,gentlemen; it is time for me to be off. Mrs. Newington, you were soobliging as to promise to accommodate me with a return chaise as far asEton.
(_Finsbury bows and exit_.)
_Farm._ A good day to you and your bandboxes. There’s a fellow for younow! Ha! ha! ha!—A man-milliner, forsooth!
_Landlord_. Mrs. Talbot’s coming—stand back.
_Landlady_. Lord! why does Bob show them through this way?
_Enter_ MRS. TALBOT, _leaning on_ LOUISA; _Waiter showing the way_.
_Landlady_. You are going on, I suppose, ma’am?
_Waiter_ (_aside to Landlord_). Not if she could help it; but there’s nobeds, since Mr. Bursal and Miss Bursal’s come.
_Landlord_. I say nothing, for it is vain to say more. But isn’t it apity she can’t stay for the Montem, poor old lady! Her son—as good andfine a lad as ever you saw—they say, has a chance, too, of being captain.She may never live to see another such a sight.
(_As Mrs. Talbot walks slowly on_, _the Farmer puts himself across her way_, _so as to stop her short_.)
_Farm._ No offence, madam, I hope; but I have a good snug farm house,not far off hand; and if so be you’d be so good to take a night’slodging, you and the young lady with you, you’d have a hearty welcome.That’s all I can say and you’d make my wife very happy; for she’s a goodwoman, to say nothing of myself.
_Landlord_. If I may be so bold to put in my word, madam, you’d have asgood beds, and be as well lodged, with Farmer Hearty, as in e’er a houseat Salt Hill.
_Mrs. Talb._ I am very much obliged—
_Farm._ O, say nothing o’ that, madam. I am sure I shall be as muchobliged if you do come. Do, miss, speak for me.
_Louisa_. Pray, dear mother—
_Farm._ She will. (_Calls behind the scenes_.) Here, waiter! hostler!driver! what’s your name? drive the chaise up here to the door, smart,close. Lean on my arm, madam, and we’ll have you in and home in a whiff.
(_Exeunt Mrs. Talbot_, _Louisa_, _Farmer_, _Landlord and Waiter_.)
_Landlady_ (_sola_). What a noise and a rout this farmer man makes! andmy husband, with his great broad face, bowing, as great a nincompoop ast’other. The folks are all bewitched with the old woman, I verilybelieve. (_Aloud_.) A good morning to you, ladies.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
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