Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding, page 348
MRS. MIDNIGHT. What will become of me? I’ll get out of the way, and swear to Mr. Zorobabel, I know nothing of my lord’s seeing her. [Exit.
LORD BAWBLE. It is generous in you, madam, to leave the country, to make us happy here, with the sunshine of your beauty.
WIFE. Sir, I am sure I shall be very glad if any thing in my power can make the beaus and fine gentlemen of this fine town happy. He talks just like Mr. Thomas before I was married to him, when he first come out of his townservice. [Aside.
LORD BAWBLE. She seems delightfully ignorant. A quality which is to me a great recommendation of a mistress or a friend. Oh, madam, can you doubt of your power, which is as extensive as your beauty; which lights such a fire in the heart of every beholder, as nothing but your frowns can put out.
WIFE. I’ll never frown again; for if all the gentlemen in town were in love with me — icod, — with all my heart, the more the merrier.
LORD BAWBLE. When they know you have my admiration, you will soon have a thousand other adorers. If a lady hath a mind to bring custom to her house, she hath nothing more to do but to hang one of us lords out for a sign.
WIFE. A lord! — Gemini, and are you a lord?
LORD Bawble. My Lord Bawble, madam, at your service.
WIFE. Well, my Lord Bawble is the prettiest name I ever heard: the very name is enough to charm one. My Lord Bawble!
LORD Bawble. Why, truly, I think it hath something of a quality-sound in it.
WIFE. Heigh ho!
LORD BAWBLE. Why do you sigh, my charmer?
WIFE. At what, perhaps, will make you sigh too, when you know it.
LORD BAWBLE. Ay, what?
WIFE. I am married to an odious footman, and can never be my Lady Bawble. I am afraid you won’t like me, now I have told you. — But I assure you, if I had not been married already, I should have married you of all the beaus and fine gentlemen in the world: but though I am married to him, I like you the best; and I hope that will do.
LORD BAWBLE. Yes, yes, yes, my dear; do! — very well! (Is this wench an idiot, or a bite? marry me, with a pox!) [Aside.] And so you are married to a footman, my dear?
WIFE. Yes, I am; I see you don’t like me, now you know I am another man’s wife.
LORD BAWBLE. Indeed you are mistaken; I dislike no man’s wife but my own.
WIFE. O la! What, are you married then?
LORD BAWBLE. Yes, I think I am: but I have almost forgot it; for I have not seen my wife, till this morning, for a twelvemonth.
WIFE. No! by goles, you may marry somebody else for me. And now I think on’t; if I should be seen speaking to him, I shall lose all the fine things I was promised.
[Aside.
LORD BAWBLE. What are you considering, my dear?
WIFE. I must not stay with you any longer, for I expect an old gentleman every minute, who promised me a thousand fine things, if I would not speak to anybody but him: he promised to keep two tall lusty fellows, for no other business but to carry me up and down in a chair.
LORD BAWBLE. I will not only do that, but I will keep you two other tall fellows for no other use but to walk before your chair.
WIFE. Will you? Nay, I assure you, I like you better than him, if I shall not lose any fine things by the bargain. — But hold, now I think on’t: suppose I stay here till he come back again with his presents, I can take the things, promise him, and go with you afterwards, you know, my lord. Oh, how pretty lord sounds!
LORD BAWBLE. No, you will have no need on’t! I will give you variety of fine things. (Till I am tired of you, and then I’ll take them away again.) But, my dear, these lodgings are not fine enough: I will take some finer for you.
WIFE. O la! what, are there finer houses than this in town? Why, my father hath five hundred a year in the country, and his house is not half so fine.
LORD BAWBLE. Oh, my dear, gentlemen of no hundred pound a year scorn such a house as this: nobody lives now in any thing but a palace.
WIPE. Nay, the finer the better, by goles, if you will pay for it.
LORD BAWBLE. Pugh, pshaw! Pay! never mind that: that word hath almost put me in the vapours. Come, my dear girl — [Kisses her.
WIFE. O fie, my lord, you make me blush. He kisses sweeter than my husband, a thousand times; I did not think there had been such a man as my husband in the world, but I find I was mistaken.
LORD BAWBLE. Consider, my dear, what a pride you will have in hearing the man you love called Lordship.
WIFE. Lordship! it is pretty. Lordship! But then you won’t see me above once in a twelvemonth.
LORD BAWBLE. I will see you every day, every minute: I like you so well, that nothing but being married to you could make me hate you.
WIFE. O Gemini! I forgot it was the fashion.
LORD BAWBLE. Let us lose no time, but hasten to find some place where I may equip you like a woman of quality.
WIFE. I am out of my wits. My lord, I am ready to wait on your lordship wherever your lordship pleases — Lordship! Quality! I shall be a fine lady immediately now.
Enter Mrs. Midnight.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. What shall I do? I am ruined for ever! My lord hath carried away the girl. Mr. Zorobabel will never forgive me; I shall lose him and all his friends, and they are the only support of my house. Foolish slut, to prefer a rakish lord to a sober Jew; but women never know how to make their market till they are so old no one will give any thing to them.
Enter Thomas.
THOMAS. Your humble servant, madam. Pray, madam, how do you like my clothes?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Your tailor hath been very expeditious, indeed, sir.
THOMAS. Yes, madam, I should not have had them so soon, but that I met with an old acquaintance, Tom Shabby, the tailor in Monmouth Street, who fitted me with a suit in a moment — But where’s my wife?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. (What shall I say to him?) I believe she is gone out to see the town.
THOMAS. Gone out! hey! what, without me! Who’s gone with her?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Really, sir, I can’t tell. Here was a gentleman all over lace: I suppose, some acquaintance of hers. I fancy she went with him.
THOMAS. A gentleman in lace! I am undone, ruined, dishonoured! Some rascal hath betrayed away my wife. Zounds, why did you let her go out of the house till my return?
MRS. MIDNIGHT. The lady was only a lodger with me, I had no power over her.
THOMAS. How., did any man come to see her? for I am sure she did not know one man in town. It must be somebody that used to come here.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. May the devil fetch me, if ever I saw him before; nor do I know how he got in. — But there are birds of prey lurking in every corner of this wicked town: it makes me shed tears to think what villains there are in the world to betray poor innocent young ladies. [Cries.
THOMAS. Oons and the devil! the first six weeks of our marriage!
MRS. MIDNIGHT. That is a pity indeed — if you have been married no longer: had you been together half a year, it had been some comfort. But be advised, have a little patience; in all probability, whoever the gentleman is, he’ll return her again soon.
THOMAS. Return her! Ha! stained, spotted, sullied! Who shall return me my honour?— ‘Sdeath! I’ll search her through the town, the world — Ha! my father here!
GOODWILL [entering]. Son, I met your man John at the inn, and he showed me the way hither. Where is my daughter, your wife?
THOMAS. Stolen! lost! every thing is lost, and I am undone.
GOODWILL. Heyday! What’s the matter?
THOMAS. The matter! O curse this vile town; I did but go to furnish myself with a suit of clothes, that I might appear like a gentleman, and in the mean time your daughter hath taken care that I shall appear like a gentleman all the days of my life; for I am sure I shall be ashamed to show my head among footmen.
GOODWILL. How! my daughter run away —
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I am afraid it is too true.
GOODWILL. And do you stand meditating?
THOMAS. What shall I do?
GOODWILL. Go advertise her this minute in the newspapers — get my lord chief-justice’s warrant.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. AS for the latter, it may be advisable; but the former will be only throwing away your money; for the papers have been of late so crammed with advertisements of wives running away from their husbands, that nobody now reads them.
THOMAS. That I should be such a blockhead to bring my wife to town!
GOODWILL. That I should be such a sot as to suffer you!
THOMAS. If I was unmarried again, I would not venture my honour in a woman’s keeping, for all the fortune she could bring me.
GOODWILL. And if I was a young fellow again, I would not get a daughter, for all the pleasure any woman could give me.
Enter MR. ZOROBABEL.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Here, where’s my mistress? I have equipped her. Here are trinkets enough to supply an alderman’s wife.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. (I must be discovered.) Hush, hush, consider your reputation; here are company. Your mistress is run away with my Lord Bawble.
MR. ZOROBABEL. My mistress run away? Damn my reputation: where’s the girl? I will have the girl.
GOODWILL. This gentleman may have lost a daughter too.
THOMAS. Or a wife, perhaps — You have lost your wife, sir, by the violence of your rage?
MR. ZOROBABEL. O worse, worse, sir; I have lost a mistress. While I went to buy her trinkets, this damned jade of a bawd (where is she?) lets in a young rake, and he is run away with her: the sweetest bit of country innocence, just come to town. ‘Sblood, I would have given a hundred lotterytickets for her.
GOODWILL and THOMAS. How, hell-hound!
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I am an innocent woman, and shall fall a sacrifice to an unjust suspicion.
GOODWILL. Oh! my poor daughter!
THOMAS. My wife, that I had so much delight in!
MR. ZOROBABEL. My mistress, that I proposed such pleasure in.
MRS. MIDNIGHT. Oh, the credit of my house, gone for ever!
MR. ZOROBABEL. Ha! here she is again.
Enter WIFE.
WIFE. Such joy! such rapture! Well, I’ll never go into the country again. Faugh! how I hate the name! — Oh! father, I’m sure you don’t know me; nor you, Mr. Thomas, neither — nor I won’t know you. Ah, you old fusty fellow, — I don’t want any thing you can give; nor you shan’t come near me, — so you sha’n’t — Madam. I am very much obliged to you for letting me see the world. I hate to talk to any one I can’t call Lordship.
GOODWILL. And is this be-powdered, be-curled, be-hooped mad woman my daughter? — [She coquets affectedly.]
Why, hussy, don’t you know your own father?
THOMAS. Nor your husband?
WIFE. No, I don’t know you at all — I never saw you before. I have got a lord, and I don’t know any one but my lord.
THOMAS. And pray what hath my lord done to you, that hath put you in such raptures?
WIFE. Oh, by gole! who’d be fool then? When I lived in the country, I used to tell you every thing I did; but I am grown wiser now, for I am told I must never let my husband know any thing I do, for he’d be angry; though I don’t much care for your anger, for I design always to live with my lord now; and he’s never to be angry, do what I will. Why, pr’ythee, fellow, dost thou think that I am not fine lady enough to know the difference between a lord and a footman?
MR. ZOROBABEL. A footman!
MRS. MIDNIGHT. I thought he was a servant, by his talking so much of his honour.
THOMAS. You call me footman! I own I was a footman; and had rather be a footman still, than a tame cuckold to a lord. I wish every man, who is not a footman, thought in the same manner.
GOODWILL. Thou art a pretty fellow, and worthy a better wife.
THOMAS.. Sir, I am sorry that from henceforth, I cannot, without being a rascal, look on your daughter as my wife; I am sorry I can’t forgive her.
WIFE. Forgive me! — ha, ha, ha! — ha, ha, ha! comical! why, I won’t forgive you, mun!
GOODWILL. What hath he done, which you will not forgive?
WIFE. Done! why, I have found out somebody I like better; and he’s my husband, and I hate him, because it is the fashion: That he hath done.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Sir Skip, a word with you: If you intend to part with your wife, I will give you as much for her as any man.
THOMAS. Sir!
MR. ZOROBABEL. Sir, I say, I will give you as much, or more for your wife, than any man.
THOMAS. Those words, which suppose me a villain, call me so, and thus should be returned.
[Gives him a box in the ear.
MR. ZOROBABEL. ‘Sdeath, sir! do you know who you use in this manner?
THOMAS. Know you? yes, you rascal, and you ought to know me. I have indeed the greatest reason to remember you, having purchased a ticket of you in the last lottery for as much again as it was worth. — However, you shall have reason to remember me for the future; a footman shall teach such a low, pitiful, stock-jobbing pick-pocket to dare to think to cuckold his betters. [Kicks him off the stage.
MR. ZOROBABEL. You shall hear of me in Westminster Hall.
GOODWILL. Your humble servant. [Kicking him off.
MR. ZOROBABEL. Very fine! very fine! — a ten-thousand pound-man is to be kicked!
GOODWILL. A rascal, a villain!
Enter LORD BAWBLE.
WIFE. O my dear lord, are you come?
LORD BAWBLE. Fie, my dear, you should not have run away from me while I was in an inner room, promising the tradesman to pay him for your fine things.
WIFE. O my lord, I only stept into a chair, as you call it, to make a visit to a fine lady here. It is pure sport to ride in a chair.
LORD BAWBLE. Bless me! what’s here? My old man Tom in masquerade?
THOMAS. I give your lordship joy of this fine girl.
LORD BAWBLE. Stay till I have had her, Tom. Egad she hath cost me a round sum, and I have had nothing but kisses for my money yet.
THOMAS. No, my lord! Then I am afraid your lordship never will have any thing more, for this lady is mine.
LORD BAWBLE. How! what property have you in her?
THOMAS. The property of an English husband, my lord.
LORD BAWBLE. How, madam! are you married to this man?
WIFE. I married to him! I never saw the fellow before.
LORD BAWBLE. Tom, thou art a very impudent fellow.
GOODWILL. Mercy on me! what a sink of iniquity is this town! She hath been here but five hours, and learnt assurance already to deny her husband.
LORD BAWBLE. Come, Tom, resign the girl by fair means, or worse will follow.
THOMAS. How, my lord, resign my wife! Fortune, which made me poor, made me a servant; but nature, which made me an Englishman, preserved me from being a slave. I have as good a right to the little I claim, as the proudest peer hath to his great possessions; and whilst I am able, I will defend it.
LORD BAWBLE. Ha! rascal! — [They draw.
GOODWILL. Hold, my lord! this girl, ungracious as she is, is my daughter, and this honest man’s wife.
WIFE. Whether I am his wife or no is nothing to the purpose; for I will go with my lord. I hate my husband, and I love my lord. He is a fine gentleman, and I am a fine lady, and we are fit for one another. Now, my lord, here are all the fine things you gave me: he will take them away, but you will keep them for me.
LORD BAWBLE. So, now I think every man hath his own again; and since she is your wife, Tom, much good may you do with her. I question not but these trinkets will purchase a finer lady. [Exit.
WIFE. What, is my lord gone?
THOMAS. Yes, madam, and you shall go, as soon as I can get horses put into a coach.
WIFE. Ay, but I won’t go with you.
THOMAS. No, but you shall go without me: your good father here will take care of you into the country: where, if I hear of your amendment, perhaps, half a year hence I may visit you; for since my honour is not wronged, I can forgive your folly.
WIFE. I shall show you, sir, that I am a woman of spirit, and not to be governed by my husband. — I shall have vapours and fits, (these they say are infallible), and if these won’t do, let me see who dares carry me into the country against my will: I will swear the peace against them.
GOODWILL. Oh! oh! that ever I should beget a daughter!
