ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.
_The garden of the_ “_Windmill Inn_,” _at Salt Hill_.
MISS BURSAL, MRS. NEWINGTON, SALLY, _the Chambermaid_.
(_Miss Bursal_, _in a fainting state_, _is sitting on a garden stool_,_and leaning her head against the Landlady_. _Sally is holding a glassof water and a smelling bottle_.)
_Miss Bursal_. Where am I? Where am I?
_Landlady_. At the “Windmill,” at Salt Hill, young lady; and ill orwell, you can’t be better.
_Sally_. Do you find yourself better since coming into the air, miss?
_Miss B._ Better! Oh, I shall never be better!
(_Leans her head on hand_, _and rocks herself backwards and forwards_.)
_Landlady_. My dear young lady, don’t take on so. (_Aside_.) Now wouldI give something to know what it was my Lady Piercefield said to thefather, and what the father said to this one, and what’s the matter atthe bottom of affairs. Sally, did you hear anything at the doors?
_Sally_ (_aside_). No, indeed, ma’am; I never _be’s_ at the doors.
_Landlady_ (_aside_). Simpleton! (_Aloud_.) But, my dear Miss Bursal,if I may be so bold—if you’d only disembosom your mind of what’s on it—
_Miss B._ Disembosom my mind! Nonsense! I’ve nothing on my mind. Prayleave me, madam.
_Landlady_ (_aside_). Madam, indeed! madam, forsooth! Oh, I’ll make herpay for that! That _madam_ shall go down in the bill, as sure as myname’s Newington. (_Landlady_, _in a higher tone_.) Well, I wish youbetter, ma’am. I suppose I’d best send your own servant?
_Miss B._ (_sullenly_). Yes, I suppose so. (_To Sally_.) You need notwait, child, nor look so curious.
_Sally_. _Cur’ous_! Indeed, miss, if I look a little _cur’ous_, or so(looking at her dress), ’tis only because I was _frighted_ to see youtake on, which made me forget my clean apron, when I came out; and thisapron—
_Miss B._ Hush! Hush! child. Don’t tell me about clean aprons, nor runon with your vulgar talk. Is there ever a seat one can set on in that_H_arbour yonder?
Sally. O dear ’_art_, yes, miss; ’tis the pleasantest _H_arbour on_H_earth. Be pleased to lean on my _H_arm, and you’ll soon be there.
_Miss B._ (_going_). Then tell my woman she need not come to me, and letnobody _interude_ on me—do you ’_ear_? (_Aside_.) Oh, what will becomeof me? and the Talbots will soon know it! And the ponies, and thecurricle, and the _vis-à-vis_—what will become of them? and how shall Imake my appearance at the Montem, or any _ware_ else?
SCENE II.
LORD JOHN—WHEELER—BURSAL.
_Wheeler_. Well, but my lord—Well, but Bursal—though my LadyPiercefield—though Miss Bursal is come to Salt Hill, you won’t leave usall at sixes and sevens. What can we do without you?
_Lord J._ You can do very well without me.
_Bursal_. You can do very well without me.
_Wheel._ (_to Burs._). Impossible!—impossible! You know Mr. Finsburywill be here just now, with the dresses; and we have to try them on.
_Burs._ And to pay for them.
_Wheel._ And to settle about the procession. And then, my lord, theelection is to come on this evening. You won’t go till that’s over, asyour lordship has promised me your lordship’s vote and interest.
_Lord J._ My vote I promised you, Mr. Wheeler; but I said not a syllableabout my _interest_. My friends, perhaps, have not been offended, thoughI have, by Mr. Talbot. I shall leave them to their own inclinations.
_Burs._ (_whistling_). Wheugh! wheugh! wheugh! Wheeler, the principal’snothing without the interest.
_Wheel._ Oh, the interest will go along with the principal, of course;for I’m persuaded, if my lord leaves his friends to their inclinations,it will be the inclination of my lord’s friends to vote as he does, if hesays nothing to them to the contrary.
_Lord J._ I told you, Mr. Wheeler, that I should leave them tothemselves.
_Burs._ (_still whistling_). Well, I’ll do my best to make that fatherof mine send me off to Oxford. I’m sure I’m fit to go—along withWheeler. Why, you’d best be my tutor, Wheeler!—a devilish good thought.
_Wheel._ An excellent thought.
_Burs._ And a cursed fine dust we should kick up at Oxford, with yourMontem money and all!—Money’s _the go_ after all. I wish it was come tomy making you my last bow, “ye distant spires, ye _antic_ towers!”
_Wheel._ (_aside to Lord J._). Ye _antic_ towers!—fit for Oxford, mylord!
_Lord J._ Antique towers, I suppose Mr. Bursal means.
_Burs._ Antique, to be sure!—I said antique, did not I, Wheeler?
_Wheel._ O, yes.
_Lord J._ (_aside_). What a mean animal is this!
_Enter_ RORY O’RYAN.
_Rory_. Why, now, what’s become of Talbot, I want to know? There he isnot to be found anywhere in the wide world; and there’s a hullabalooamongst his friends for him.
(_Wheeler and Bursal wink at one another_.)
_Wheel._ We know nothing of him.
_Lord J._ I have not the honour, sir, to be one of Mr. Talbot’s friends.It is his own fault, and I am sorry for it.
_Rory_. ’Faith, so am I, especially as it is mine—fault I mean; andespecially as the election is just going to come on.
_Enter a party of boys_, _who cry_, Finsbury’s come!—Finsbury’s come withthe dresses!
_Wheel._ Finsbury’s come? Oh, let us see the dresses, and let us try’em on to-night.
_Burs._ (_pushing the crowd_). On with ye—on with ye, there!—Let’s try’em on!—Try ’em on—I’m to be colonel.
1_st_ _Boy_. And I lieutenant.
2_nd_ _Boy_. And I ensign.
3_rd_ _Boy_. And I college salt-bearer.
4_th_ _Boy_. And I oppidan.
5_th_ _Boy_. Oh, what a pity I’m in mourning.
_Several speak at once_. And we are servitors. We are to be the eightservitors.
_Wheel._ And I am to be your Captain, I hope. Come on, my Colonel.(_To Bursal_). My lord, you are coming?
_Rory_. By-and-by—I’ve a word in his ear, by your _lave_ and his.
_Burs._ Why, what the devil stops the way, there?—Push on—on with them.
6_th_ _Boy_. I’m marshal.
_Burs._ On with you—on with you—who cares what you are?
_Wheel._ (_to Bursal_, _aside_). You’ll pay Finsbury for me, you richJew? (_To Lord John_.) Your lordship will remember your lordship’spromise.
_Lord J._ I do not usually forget my promises, sir; and therefore neednot to be reminded of them.
_Wheel._ I beg pardon—I beg ten thousand pardons, my lord.
_Burs._ (_taking him by the arm_). Come on, man, and don’t stand beggingpardon there, or I’ll leave you.
_Wheel._ (_to Burs._) I beg pardon, Bursal—I beg pardon, ten thousandtimes.
(_Exeunt_.)
_Manent_ LORD JOHN _and_ RORY O’RYAN.
_Rory_. Wheugh!—Now put the case. If I was going to be hanged, for thelife of me I couldn’t be after begging so many pardons for nothing atall. But many men, many minds—(_Hums_.) True game to the last! NoWheeler for me. Oh, murder! I forgot, I was nigh letting the cat out o’the bag again.
_Lord J._ You had something to say to me, sir? I wait till yourrecollection returns.
_Rory_. ’Faith, and that’s very kind of you; and if you had always doneso, you would never have been offended with me, my lord.
_Lord J._ You are mistaken, Mr. O’Ryan, if you think that you did orcould offend me.
_Rory_. Mistaken was I, then, sure enough; but we are all liable tomistakes, and should forget and forgive one another; that’s the way to gothrough.
_Lord J._ You will go through the world your own way, Mr. O’Ryan, andallow me to go through it
my way.
_Rory_. Very fair—fair enough—then we shan’t cross. But now, to come tothe point. I don’t like to be making disagreeable retrospects, if Icould any way avoid it; nor to be going about the bush, especially atthis time o’ day; when, as Mr. Finsbury’s come, we’ve not so much time tolose as we had. Is there any truth, then, my lord, in the report that isgoing about this hour past, that you have gone in a huff, and given yourpromise there to that sneaking Wheeler to vote for him now?
_Lord J._ In answer to your question, sir, I am to inform you that I_have_ promised Mr. Wheeler to vote for him.
_Rory_. In a huff?—Ay, now, there it is!—Well, when a man’s _mad_, to besure, he’s mad—and that’s all that can be said about it. And I know, ifI had been _mad_ myself, I might have done a foolish thing as well asanother. But now, my lord, that you are not mad—
_Lord J._ I protest, sir, I cannot understand you. In one word, sir,I’m neither mad nor a fool!—Your most obedient (_going_, _angrily_).
_Rory_ (_holding him_). Take care now; you are going mad with me again.But phoo! I like you the better for being mad. I’m very often madmyself, and I would not give a potato for one that had never been mad inhis life.
_Lord J._ (_aside_). He’ll not be quiet, till he makes me knock himdown.
_Rory_. Agh! agh! agh!—I begin to guess whereabouts I am at last._Mad_, in your country, I take it, means fit for Bedlam; but with us inIreland, now, ’tis no such thing; it mean’s nothing in life but the beingin a passion. Well, one comfort is, my lord, as you’re a bit of ascholar, we have the Latin proverb in our favour—“_Ira furor brevis est_”(Anger is short madness). The shorter the better, I think. So, my lord,to put an end to whatever of the kind you may have felt against poorTalbot, I’ll assure you he’s as innocent o’ that unfortunate song as thebabe unborn.
_Lord J._ It is rather late for Mr. Talbot to make apologies to me.
_Rory_. He make apologies! Not he, ’faith; he’d send me to Coventry,or, maybe, to a worse place, did he but know I was condescending to makethis bit of explanation, unknown to him. But, upon my conscience, I’ve aregard for you both, and don’t like to see you go together by the ears.Now, look you, my lord. By this book, and all the books that were evershut and opened, he never saw or heard of that unlucky song of mine tillI came out with it this morning.
_Lord J._ But you told me this morning that it was he who wrote it.
_Rory_. For that I take shame to myself, as it turned out; but it wasonly a _white_ lie to _sa_rve a friend, and make him cut a dash with anew song at election time. But I’ve done for ever with white lies.
_Lord J._ (_walking about as if agitated_). I wish you had never begunwith them, Mr. O’Ryan. This may be a good joke to you; but it is none tome or Talbot. So Talbot never wrote a word of the song?
_Rory_. Not a word or syllable, good or bad.
_Lord J._ And I have given my promise to vote against him. He’ll losehis election.
_Rory_. Not if you’ll give me leave to speak to your friends in yourname.
_Lord J._ I have promised to leave them to themselves; and Wheeler, I amsure, has engaged them by this time.
_Rory_. Bless my body! I’ll not stay prating here then.
(_Exit Rory_.)
_Lord J._ (_follows_). But what can have become of Talbot? I have beentoo hasty for once in my life. Well, I shall suffer for it more thananybody else; for I love Talbot, since he did not make the song, of whichI hate to think.
(_Exit_.)
SCENE III.
_A large hall in Eton College_—_A staircase at the end_—_Eton lads_,_dressed in their Montem Dresses in the Scene_—_In front_, WHEELER(_dressed as Captain_), BURSAL _and_ FINSBURY.
_Fins._ I give you infinite credit, Mr. Wheeler, for this dress.
_Burs._ _Infinite credit_! Why, he’ll have no objection to that—hey,Wheeler? But I thought Finsbury knew you too well to give you credit foranything.
_Fins._ You are pleased to be pleasant, sir. Mr. Wheeler knows, in thatsense of the word, it is out of my power to give him credit, and I’m surehe would not ask it.
_Wheel._ (_aside_). O, Bursal, pay him, and I’ll pay you to-morrow.
_Burs._ Now, if you weren’t to be captain after all, Wheeler, what apretty figure you’d cut. Ha! ha! ha!—Hey?
_Wheel._ Oh, I am as sure of being captain as of being alive.(_Aside_.) Do pay for me, now, there’s a good, dear fellow, before_they_ (_looking back_) come up.
_Burs._ (_aside_). I love to make him lick the dust. (_Aloud_.) Hollo!here’s Finsbury waiting to be paid, lads. (_To the lads who are in theback scene_.) Who has paid, and who has not paid, I say?
(_The lads come forward, and several exclaim at once_,) I’ve paid! I’vepaid!
_Enter_ LORD JOHN _and_ RORY O’RYAN.
_Rory_. Oh, King of Fashion, how fine we are! Why, now, to look at yeall one might fancy one’s self at the playhouse at once, or at a fancyball in dear little Dublin. Come, strike up a dance.
_Burs._ Pshaw! Wherever you come, Rory O’Ryan, no one else can beheard. Who has paid, and who has not paid, I say?
_Several Boys exclaim_. We’ve all paid.
1_st_ _Boy_. I’ve not paid, but here’s my money.
_Several Boys_. We have not paid, but here’s our money.
6_th_ _Boy_. Order there, I am marshal. All that have paid march off tothe staircase, and take your seats there, one by one. March!
(_As they march by_, _one by one_, _so as to display their dresses_, _Mr. Finsbury bows_, _and says_,)
A thousand thanks, gentlemen. Thank you, gentlemen. Thanks, gentlemen.The finest sight ever I saw out of Lon’on.
_Rory_, _as each lad passes_, _catches his arm_, Are you a Talbot_ite_ ora Wheeler_ite_? _To each who answers_ “A Wheelerite,” _Rory replies_,“Phoo! dance off, then. Go to the devil and shake yourself.” {167} Eachwho answers “A Talbotite,” _Rory shakes by the hand violently_,_singing_,
“Talbot, oh, Talbot’s the dog for Rory.”
_When they have almost all passed_, _Lord John says_, _But where can Mr.Talbot be all this time_?
_Burs._ Who knows? Who cares?
_Wheel._ A pretty electioneerer! (Aside to Bursal.) Finsbury’s waitingto be paid.
_Lord J._ You don’t wait for me, Mr. Finsbury. You know, I have settledwith you.
_Fins._ Yes, my lord—yes. Many thanks: and I have left your lordship’sdress here, and everybody’s dress, I believe, as bespoke.
_Burs._ Here, Finsbury, is the money for Wheeler, who, between you andme, is as poor as a rat.
_Wheeler_ (_affecting to laugh_). Well, I hope I shall be as rich as aJew to-morrow. (_Bursal counts money_, _in an ostentatious manner_,_into Finsbury’s hand_.)
_Fins._ A thousand thanks for all favours.
_Rory_. You will be kind enough to _lave_ Mr. Talbot’s dress with me,Mr. Finsbury, for I’m a friend.
_Fins._ Indubitably, sir: but the misfortune is—he! he! he!—Mr. Talbot,sir, has bespoke no dress. Your servant, gentlemen.
(_Exit Finsbury_.)
_Burs._ So your friend Mr. Talbot could not afford to bespeak adress—(_Bursal and Wheeler laugh insolently_.) How comes that, I wonder?
_Lord J._ If I’m not mistaken, here comes Talbot to answer for himself.
_Rory_. But who, in the name of St. Patrick, has he along with him?
_Enter_ TALBOT _and_ LANDLORD.
_Talb._ Come in along with us, Farmer Hearty—come in.
(_Whilst the Farmer comes in_, _the boys who were sitting on the stairs_, _rise and exclaim_,)
Whom have we here? What now? Com
e down, lads; here’s more fun.
_Rory_. What’s here, Talbot?
_Talb._ An honest farmer, and a good natured landlord, who would comehere along with me to speak—
_Farm._ (_interrupting_). To speak the truth—(_strikes his stick on theground_).
_Landlord_ (_unbuttoning his waistcoat_). But I am so hot—soshort-winded, that (_panting and puffing_)—that for the soul and body ofme, I cannot say what I have got for to say.
_Rory_. ’Faith, now, the more short winded a story, the better, to myfancy.
_Burs._ Wheeler, what’s the matter, man? you look as if your under jawwas broke.
_Farm._ The matter is, young gentlemen, that there was once upon a timea fine, bay hunter.
_Wheel._ (_squeezing up to Talbot_, _aside_). Don’t expose me, don’t lethim tell. (_To the Farmer_.) I’ll pay for the corn I spoiled. (_To theLandlord_.) I’ll pay for the horse.
_Farm._ I does not want to be paid for my corn. The short of it is,young gentlemen, this ’un here, in the fine thing-em-bobs (pointing toWheeler), is a shabby fellow; he went and spoiled Master Newington’s besthunter.
_Land._ (_panting_). Ruinationed him! ruinationed him!
_Rory_. But was that all the shabbiness? Now I might, or any of usmight, have had such an accident as that. I suppose he paid thegentleman for the horse, or will do so, in good time.
_Land._ (_holding his sides_). Oh, that I had but a little breath inthis body o’ mine to speak all—speak on, Farmer.
_Farm._ (_striking his stick on the floor_). Oons, sir, when a man’s putout, he can’t go on with his story.
_Omnes_. Be quiet, Rory—hush!
(_Rory puts his finger on his lips_.)
_Farm._ Why, sir, I was a-going to tell you the shabbiness—why, sir, hedid not pay the landlord, here, for the horse; but he goes and says tothe landlord, here—“Mr. Talbot had your horse on the self-same day; ’twashe did the damage; ’tis from he you must get your money.” So Mr. Talbot,here, who is another sort of a gentleman (though he has not so fine acoat) would not see a man at a loss, that could not afford it; and notknowing which of ’em it was that spoiled the horse, goes, when he findsthe other would not pay a farthing, and pays all.
_Rory_ (_rubbing his hands_). There’s Talbot for ye. And, now,gentlemen (_to Wheeler and Bursal_), you guess the _rason_, as I do, Isuppose, why he bespoke no dress; he had not money enough to be fine—andhonest, too. You are very fine, Mr. Wheeler, to do you justice.
_Lord J._ Pray, Mr. O’Ryan, let the farmer go on; he has more to say.How did you find out, pray, my good friend, that it was not Talbot whospoiled the horse! Speak loud enough to be heard by everybody.
_Farm._ Ay, that I will—I say (_very loudly_) I say I saw him there(_pointing to Wheeler_) take the jump which strained the horse; and I’mready to swear to it. Yet he let another pay; there’s the shabbiness.
(_A general groan from all the lads_. “Oh, shabby Wheeler, shabby! I’llnot vote for shabby Wheeler!”)
_Lord J._ (_aside_). Alas! I must vote for him.
_Rory sings_.
“True game to the last; no Wheeler for me; Talbot, oh, Talbot’s the dog for me.”
(_Several voices join the chorus_.)
_Burs._ Wheeler, if you are not chosen Captain, you must see and pay mefor the dress.
_Wheel._ I am as poor as a rat.
_Rory_. Oh, yes! oh yes! hear ye! hear ye, all manner of men—theelection is now going to begin forthwith in the big field, and RoryO’Ryan holds the poll for Talbot. Talbot for ever!—huzza!
(_Exit Rory_, _followed by the Boys_, _who exclaim_ “Talbot forever!—huzza!” _The Landlord and Farmer join them_.)
_Lord J._ Talbot, I am glad you are what I always thought you—I’m gladyou did not write that odious song. I would not lose such a friend forall the songs in the world. Forgive me for my hastiness this morning.I’ve punished myself—I’ve promised to vote for Wheeler.
_Talb._ Oh, no matter whom you vote for, my lord, if you are still myfriend, and if you know me to be yours.
(_They shake hands_.)
_Lord J._ I must not say, “Huzza for Talbot!”
(_Exeunt_.)
SCENE IV.
WINDSOR TERRACE.
LADY PIERCEFIELD, MRS. TALBOT, LOUISA, _and a little girl of six yearsold_, LADY VIOLETTA, _daughter to_ LADY PIERCEFIELD.
_Violetta_ (_looking at a paper which Louisa holds_). I like it _very_much.
_Lady P._ What is it that you like _very_ much, Violetta?
_Violet._ You are not to know yet, mamma; it is—I may tell her that—itis a little drawing that Louisa is doing for me. Louisa, I wish youwould let me show it to mamma.
_Louisa_. And welcome, my dear; it is only a sketch of “The LittleMerchants,” a story which Violetta was reading, and she asked me to tryto draw the pictures of the little merchants for her. (_Whilst Lady P.looks at the drawing_, _Violetta says to Louisa_.)
But are you in earnest, Louisa, about what you were saying to me justnow,—quite in earnest?
_Louisa_. Yes, in earnest,—quite in earnest, my dear.
_Violet._ And may I ask mamma, _now_?
_Louisa_. If you please, my dear.
_Violet._ (_runs to her mother_). Stoop down to me, mamma; I’vesomething to whisper to you.
(_Lady Piercefield stoops down_; _Violetta throws her arms round her mother’s neck_.)
_Violet._ (_aside to her mother_). Mamma, do you know—you know you wanta governess for me.
_Lady P._ Yes, if I could find a good one.
_Violet._ (_aloud_). Stoop again, mamma, I’ve more to whisper. (_Asideto her mother_). _She_ says she will be my governess, if you please.
_Lady P._ _She_!—who is _she_?
_Violet._ Louisa.
_Lady P._ (_patting Violetta’s cheek_). You are a little fool. MissTalbot is only playing with you.
_Violet._ No, indeed, mamma; she is in earnest; are not you, Louisa?—Oh,say yes!
_Louisa_. Yes.
_Violet._ (_claps her hands_). _Yes_, mamma; do you hear _yes_?
_Louisa_. If Lady Piercefield will trust you to my care, I am persuadedthat I should be much happier as your governess, my good little Violetta,than as an humble dependent of Miss Bursal’s. (_Aside to her mother_.)You see that, now I am put to the trial, I keep to my resolution, dearmother.
_Mrs. T._ Your ladyship would not be surprised at this offer of myLouisa, if you had heard, as we have done within these few hours, of theloss of the East India ship in which almost our whole property wasembarked.
_Louisa_. The _Bombay Castle_ is wrecked.
_Lady P._ The _Bombay Castle_! I have the pleasure to tell you that youare misinformed—it was the _Airly Castle_ that was wrecked.
_Louisa and Mrs. T._ Indeed!
_Lady P._ Yes; you may depend upon it—it was the _Airly Castle_ that waslost. You know I am just come from Portsmouth, where I went to meet mybrother, Governor Morton, who came home with the last India fleet, andfrom whom I had the intelligence.
(_Here Violetta interrupts_, _to ask her mother for her nosegay_—_Lady P.gives it to her_, _then goes on speaking_.)
_Lady P._ They were in such haste, foolish people! to carry their newsto London, that they mistook one castle for another. But do you knowthat Mr. Bursal loses fifty thousand pounds, it is said, by the _AirlyCastle_! When I told him she was lost, I thought he would have droppeddown. However, I found he comforted himself afterwards with a bottle ofBurgundy: but poor Miss Bursal has been in hysterics ever since.
_Mrs. T._ Poor girl! My Louisa, _you_ did not fall into hysterics, whenI told you of the loss of our who
le fortune.
(_Violetta_, _during this dialogue_, _has been seated on the ground making up a nosegay_.)
_Violet._ (_aside_). Fall into hysterics! What are hysterics, I wonder.
_Louisa_. Miss Bursal is much to be pitied; for the loss of wealth willbe the loss of happiness to her.
_Lady P._ It is to be hoped that the loss may at least check the foolishpride and extravagance of young Bursal, who, as my son tells me—
(_A cry of_ “Huzza! huzza!” _behind the scenes_.)
_Enter_ LORD JOHN.
_Lord J._ (_hastily_). How d’ye do, mother! Miss Talbot, I give youjoy.
_Lady P._ Take breath—take breath.
_Louisa_. It is my brother.
_Mrs. T._ Here he is!—Hark! hark!
(_A cry behind the scenes of_ “Talbot and truth for ever! Huzza!”)
_Louisa_. They are chairing him.
_Lord J._ Yes, they are chairing him; and he has been chosen for hishonourable conduct, not for his electioneering skill; for, to do himjustice, Coriolanus himself was not a worse electioneerer.
_Enter_ RORY O’RYAN _and another Eton lad_, _carrying_ TALBOT _in achair_, _followed by a crowd of Eton lads_.
_Rory_. By your _lave_, _my lord_—by your _lave_, ladies.
_Omnes_. Huzza! Talbot and truth for ever! Huzza!
_Talb._ Set me down! There’s my mother! There’s my sister!
_Rory_. Easy, easy. Set him down? No such _ting_! give him t’otherhuzza! There’s nothing like a good loud huzza in this world. Yes, thereis! for, as my Lord John said just now, out of some book, or out of hisown head,—
“One self-approving hour whole years outweighs, Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas.”
* * * * *
CURTAIN FALLS.
* * * * *