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_ ACT III SCENE I
SIR SIMON ROCHDALE'S Library.
Enter SIR SIMON ROCHDALE and the EARL OF FITZ BALAAM.
SIR SIMON.
Believe me, my lord, the man I wish'd most to meet in
my library this morning, was the Earl of Fitz Balaam.
LORD FITZ.
Thank you, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Your arrival, a day before your promise, gives us such
convenient leisure to talk over the arrangements, relative
to the marriage of Lady Caroline Braymore, your lordship's
daughter, with my son.
LORD FITZ.
True, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Then, while Lady Caroline is at her toilet, we'll dash into
business at once; for I know your lordship is a man of few words.
They tell me, my lord, you have sat in the Upper House, and
said nothing but aye and no, there, for these thirty years.
LORD FITZ.
I spoke, for more than a minute, in the year of the influenza.
SIR SIMON.
Bless me! the epidemic, perhaps,
raging among the members, at the moment.
LORD FITZ.
Yes;--they cough'd so loud, I left off in the middle.
SIR SIMON.
And you never attempted again.
LORD FITZ.
I hate to talk much, Sir Simon;
--'tis my way; though several don't like it.
SIR SIMON.
I do. I consider it as a mark of your lordship's discretion. The
less you say, my lord, in my mind, the wiser you are; and I have
often thought it a pity, that some noble orators hav'n't follow'd
your lordship's example.--But, here are the writings.
[Sitting down with LORD FITZ BALAAM,
and taking them from the Table.]
We must wave ceremony now, my lord; for all this pile of parchment
is built on the independent four thousand a year of your daughter,
Lady Caroline, on one hand, and your lordship's incumbrances, on the other.
LORD FITZ.
I have saddles on my property, Sir Simon.
Sir. Simon.
Which saddles, your lordship's property being uncommonly small,
look something like sixteen stone upon a poney. The Fitz
Balaam estate, for an earl, is deplorably narrow.
LORD FITZ.
Yet, it has given security for a large debt.
SIR SIMON.
Large, indeed! I can't think how you have contriv'd it.
'Tis the Archbishop of Brobdignag, squeez'd into
Tom Thumb's pantaloons.
LORD FITZ.
Mine is the oldest estate in England, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
If we may judge of age by decay, my lord, it must be very ancient, indeed!--But this goes to something in the shape of supplies.
[Untying the Papers.]
"Covenant between Augustus Julius Braymore, Earl of Fitz Balaam, of Cullender Castle, in the county of Cumberland, and Simon Rochdale, Baronet, of Hollyhock House, in the county of Cornwall."----By the by, my lord, considering what an expense attends that castle, which is at your own disposal, and that, if the auctioneer don't soon knock it down, the weather will, I wonder what has prevented your lordship's bringing it to the hammer.
LORD FITZ.
The dignity of my ancestors.
I have blood in my family, Sir Simon----
[Proudly.]
SIR SIMON.
A deal of excellent blood, my lord; but from the butler
down to the house-dog, curse me if ever I saw so little
flesh in a family before--But by this covenant----
LORD FITZ.
You clear off the largest mortgage.
SIR SIMON.
Right;--for which purpose, on the day of the young folks' marriage----
LORD FITZ.
You must pay me forty thousand pounds.
SIR SIMON.
Right, again. Your lordship says little; but 'tis terribly
plump to the point, indeed, my lord. Here is the covenant;
--and, now, will your lordship look over the marriage articles?
LORD FITZ.
My attorney will be here to-morrow, Sir Simon.
I prefer reading by deputy.
[Both rise.]
SIR SIMON.
Many people of rank read in the same way, my lord. And your
lordship will receive the forty thousand pounds, I am to
pay you, by deputy also, I suppose.
LORD FITZ.
I seldom swear, Sir Simon; but, damn me if I will.
SIR SIMON.
I believe you are right. Yet there are but two reasons for not trusting an attorney with your money:--one is, when you don't know him very well; and the other is, when you do.--And now, since the marriage is concluded, as I may say, in the families, may I take the liberty to ask, my lord, what sort of a wife my son Frank may expect in Lady Caroline? Frank is rather of a grave, domestic turn: Lady Caroline, it seems, has passed the three last winters in London. Did her ladyship enter into all the spirit of the first circles?
LORD FITZ.
She was as gay as a lark, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Was she like the lark in her hours, my lord?
LORD FITZ.
A great deal more like the owl, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
I thought so. Frank's mornings in London will begin where her
ladyship's nights finish. But his case won't be very singular.
Many couples make the marriage bed a kind of cold matrimonial well;
and the two family buckets dip into it alternately.
[Enter LADY CAROLINE BRAYMORE.]
LADY CAR.
Do I interrupt business?
SIR SIMON.
Not in the least. Pray, Lady Caroline, come in.
His lordship and I have just concluded.
LORD FITZ.
And I must go and walk my three miles, this morning.
SIR SIMON.
Must you, my lord?
LORD FITZ.
My physician prescribed it,
when I told him I was apt to be dull, after dinner.
SIR SIMON.
I would attend your lordship;--but since Lady Caroline favours me with--
LADY CAR.
No, no--don't mind me. I assure you,
I had much rather you would go.
SIR SIMON.
Had you?--hum!--but the petticoats have their new school of good
breeding, too, they tell me. [Aside.] Well, we are gone
--we have been glancing over the writings, Lady Caroline, that
form the basis of my son's happiness:--though his lordship
isn't much inclined to read.
LADY CAR.
But I am.--I came here to study very deeply, before dinner.
SIR SIMON.
What, would your ladyship, then, wish to--
[Showing the Writings.]
LADY CAR.
To read that? My dear Sir Simon! all that Hebrew, upon parchment
as thick as a board!--I came to see if you had any of the last
novels in your book room.
SIR SIMON.
The last novels!
--most of the female new school are ghost bitten, they tell me.
[Aside.]
There's Fielding's Works; and you'll find Tom Jones, you know.
LADY CAR.
Psha! that's such a hack!
SIR SIMON.
A hack, Lady Caroline, that the knowing ones have warranted sound.
LADY CAR.
But what do you think of those that have had such a run lately?
SIR SIMON.
Why, I think most of them have run too much, and want firing.
[Exeunt SIR SIMON, and LORD FITZ BALAAM.]
LADY CAR.
I shall die of ennui, in this moping manor house!
--Shall I read to-day?--no, I'll walk.--No, I'll
----Yes, I'll read first, and walk afterwards.
[Rings the Bell, and takes a Book.]
--Pope.--Come, as there are no novels, this may be tolerable.
This is the most triste house I ever saw!
[Sits down and reads.]
"In these deep solitudes, and awful cells,
Where heavenly-pensive--"
[Enter ROBERT.]
ROB.
Did you ring, my lady?
LADY CAR.
----"Contemplation dwells--" Sir? Oh, yes;
--I should like to walk. Is it damp under foot, sir?--"And ever musing--"
ROB.
There has been a good deal of rain to-day my lady.
LADY CAR.
"Melancholy reigns--"
ROB.
My lady--
LADY CAR.
Pray, sir, look out, and bring me word if it is clean or dirty.
ROB.
Yes, my lady.
[Exit.]
LADY CAR.
This settling a marriage is a strange business!
--"What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?--"
SHUFF.
[Without.]
Bid the groom lead the horse into the avenue, and I'll come to him.
LADY CAR.
Company in the house?--some Cornish squire, I suppose.
[Resumes her reading.]
[Enter TOM SHUFFLETON, speaking while entering, JOHN following.]
LADY CAR.
[Still reading, and seated with her Back to SHUFFLETON.]
----"Soon as thy letters, trembling, I unclose----"
JOHN.
What horse will you have saddled, sir?
SHUFF.
Slyboots.
[Exit JOHN.]
LADY CAR.
----"That well known name awakens all my woes--"
SHUFF.
Lady Caroline Braymore!
LADY CAR.
Mr. Shuffleton! Lard! what can bring you into Cornwall?
SHUFF.
Sympathy:--which has generally brought me near your ladyship,
in London at least, for these three winters.
LADY CAR.
Psha! but seriously?
SHUFF.
I was summoned by friendship. I am consulted on all
essential points, in this family;--and Frank Rochdale is going to be married.
LADY CAR.
Then, you know to whom?
SHUFF.
No;--not thinking that an essential point, I forgot to ask.
He kneels at the pedestal of a rich shrine, and I didn't inquire
about the statue. But, dear Lady Caroline, what has brought
you into Cornwall?
LADY CAR.
Me? I'm the statue.
SHUFF.
You!
LADY CAR.
Yes; I've walk'd off my pedestal, to be worshipp'd at the Land's End.
SHUFF.
You to be married to Frank Rochdale!
O, Lady Caroline! what then is to become of me?
LADY CAR.
Oh, Mr. Shuffleton! not thinking that an essential point, I forgot to ask.
SHUFF.
Psha! now you're laughing at me! but upon my soul,
I shall turn traitor; take advantage of the confidence
reposed in me, by my friend, and endeavour to supplant him.
LADY CAR.
What do you think the world would call such duplicity of conduct?
[Enter ROBERT.]
ROB. Very dirty, indeed, my lady.
[Exit.]
SHUFF.
That infernal footman has been listening!
--I'll kick him round his master's park.
LADY CAR.
'Tis lucky, then, you are booted; for,
you hear, he says it is very dirty there.
SHUFF.
Was that the meaning of----Pooh!--but, you see,
the--the surprise--the--the agitation has made me ridiculous.
LADY CAR.
I see something has made you ridiculous;
but you never told me what it was before.
SHUFF.
Lady Caroline; this is a crisis, that--my attentions,
--that is, the----In short, the world, you know,
my dear Lady Caroline, has given me to you.
LADY CAR.
Why, what a shabby world it is!
SHUFF.
How so?
LADY CAR.
To make me a present of something, it sets no value on itself.
SHUFF.
I flattered myself I might not be altogether invaluable to your ladyship.
LADY CAR.
To me! Now, I can't conceive any use I could make of you.
No, positively, you are neither useful nor ornamental.
SHUFF.
Yet, you were never at an opera, without me at your elbow;--never in Kensington Gardens, that my horse--the crop, by the bye, given me by Lord Collarbone,--wasn't constantly in leading at the gate:--hav'n't you danc'd with me at every ball?--And hav'nt I, unkind, forgetful, Lady Caroline, even cut the Newmarket meetings, when you were in London?
LADY CAR.
Bless me!--these charges are brought in like a bill.
"To attending your ladyship at such a time; to dancing down
twenty couple with your ladyship, at another,"
--and, pray, to what do they all amount?
SHUFF.
The fullest declaration.
LADY CAR.
Lard, Mr. Shuffleton! why, it has, to be sure, looked a--a--a
little foolish--but you--you never spoke any thing
to----that is--to justify such a----
SHUFF.
That's as much as to say, speak now.
[Aside.]
--To be plain, Lady Caroline, my friend does not know your value.
He has an excellent heart--but that heart is--
[Coughs.]
damn the word, it's so out of fashion, it chokes me!
[Aside.]
is irrevocably given to another.--But mine--by this sweet hand, I swear----
[Kneeling and kissing her Hand.]
[Enter JOHN.]
Well, sir?--
[Rising hastily.]
JOHN.
Slyboots, sir, has been down on his knees;
--and the groom says he can't go out.
SHUFF.
Let him saddle another.
JOHN.
What horse, sir, will you----
SHUFF.
Psha!--any.--What do you call Mr. Rochdale's favourite, now.
JOHN. Traitor, sir.
SHUFF.
When Traitor's in the avenue, I shall be there.
[Exit JOHN.]
LADY CAR.
Answer me one question, candidly, and, perhaps,
I may entrust you with a secret.--Is Mr. Rochdale seriously attached?
SHUFF.
Very seriously.
LADY CAR.
Then I won't marry him.
SHUFF.
That's spirited.--Now, your secret.
LADY CAR.
Why--perhaps you may have heard, that my father, Lord Fitz Balaam,
is, somehow, so--so much in debt, that--but, no matter.
SHUFF.
Oh, not at all;--the case is fashionable, with both lords and commoners.
LADY CAR.
But an old maiden aunt, whom, rest her soul! I never saw, for family
pride's sake, bequeathed me an independence. To obviate his lordship's
difficulties, I mean to--to marry into this humdrum Cornish family.
SHUFF.
I see--a sacrifice!--filial piety, and all that--to disembarrass
his lordship. But hadn't your ladyship better--
LADY CAR.
Marry to disembarrass you?
SHUFF.
By my honour, I'm disinterested.
LADY CAR.
By my honour, I'm monstrously piqued--and so vex'd,
that I can't read this morning,--nor talk,--nor----I'll walk.
SHUFF. Shall I attend you?
LADY CAR.
No;--don't fidget at my elbow, as you do at the opera.
But you shall tell me more of this by and by.
SHUFF.
When?--Where?
[Taking her Hand.]
LADY CAR.
Don't torment me.--This evening, or--to-morrow, perhaps;--in the park,
--or----psha! we shall meet at dinner.--Do, let me go now,
for I shall be very bad company.
SHUFF.
[Kissing her Hand.]
Adieu, Lady Caroline!--
LADY CAR.
Adieu!
[Exit.]
SHUFF.
My friend Frank, here, I think, is very much obliged to me!
--I am putting matters pretty well en train to disencumber
him of a wife;--and now I'll canter over the heath, and see what
I can do for him with the brazier's daughter.
[Exit.] _
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