________________________________________________
_ ACT V SCENE II
The Library.
SIR SIMON ROCHDALE and his STEWARD, who appears to be
quitting the Room. JOB THORNBERRY standing at a little Distance from them.
SIR SIMON.
Remember the money must be ready to-morrow, Mr. Pennyman.
STEWARD.
It shall, Sir Simon.
[Going.]
SIR SIMON.
[To JOB.]
So, friend, your business, you say, is--and, Mr. Pennyman,
[STEWARD turns back.]
give Robin Ruddy notice to quit his cottage, directly.
STEWARD.
I am afraid, Sir Simon, if he's turned out, it will be his ruin.
SIR SIMON.
He should have recollected that, before he ruin'd his neighbour's daughter.
JOB.
[Starting.]
Eh!
SIR SIMON.
What's the matter with the man?
His offence is attended with great aggravation.
--Why doesn't he marry her?
JOB. Aye!
[Emphatically.]
SIR SIMON.
Pray, friend, be quiet.
STEWARD.
He says it would make her more unfortunate still;
he's too necessitous to provide even for the living
consequence of his indiscretion.
SIR SIMON.
That doubles his crime to the girl.--He must quit.
I'm a magistrate, you know, Mr. Pennyman, and 'tis my
duty to discourage all such immorality.
STEWARD.
Your orders must be obeyed, Sir Simon.
[Exit STEWARD.]
SIR SIMON.
Now, yours is justice-business, you say. You come at an
irregular time, and I have somebody else waiting for me;
so be quick. What brings you here?
JOB.
My daughter's seduction, Sir Simon;--and it has done my heart
good to hear your worship say, 'tis your duty to discourage
all such immorality.
SIR SIMON.
To be sure it is;--but men, like you, shou'dn't be too apt to
lay hold of every sentiment justice drops, lest you misapply it.
'Tis like an officious footman snatching up his mistress's periwig,
and clapping it on again, hind part before. What are you?
JOB.
A tradesman, Sir Simon.
I have been a freeholder, in this district, for many a year.
SIR SIMON.
A freeholder!--Zounds! one of Frank's voters, perhaps, and of
consequence at his election.
[Aside.]
Won't you, my good friend, take a chair?
JOB.
Thank you, Sir Simon, I know my proper place. I didn't come here
to sit down with Sir Simon Rochdale, because I am a freeholder;
I come to demand my right, because you are a justice.
SIR SIMON.
A man of respectability, a tradesman, and a freeholder, in such
a serious case as yours, had better have recourse to a court of law.
JOB.
I am not rich, now, Sir Simon, whatever I may have been.
SIR SIMON.
A magistrate, honest, friend, can't give you damages:
--you must fee counsel.
JOB.
I can't afford an expensive lawsuit, Sir Simon:--and, begging
your pardon, I think the law never intended that an injured man,
in middling circumstances, should either go without redress,
or starve himself to obtain it.
SIR SIMON.
Whatever advice I can give you, you shall have it for nothing; but I
can't jump over justice's hedges and ditches. Courts of law are broad
high roads, made for national convenience; if your way lie through them,
'tis but fair you should pay the turnpikes. Who is the offender?
JOB.
He lives on your estate, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Oho! a tenant!--Then I may carry you through your journey by a short cut.
Let him marry your daughter, my honest friend.
JOB.
He won't.
SIR SIMON.
Why not?
JOB.
He's going to marry another.
SIR SIMON.
Then he turns out. The rascal sha'n't disgrace my estate four and
twenty hours longer.--Injure a reputable tradesman, my neighbour!
----a freeholder!--and refuse to----did you say he was poor?
JOB.
No, Sir Simon; and, by and by,
if you don't stand in his way, he may be very rich.
SIR SIMON.
Rich! eh!--Why, zounds! is he a gentleman?
JOB.
I have answer'd that question already, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Not that I remember.
JOB.
I thought I had been telling you his behaviour.
SIR SIMON.
Umph!
JOB.
I reckon many of my neighbours honest men, though I can't call
them gentlemen;--but I reckon no man a gentleman, that I can't call honest.
SIR SIMON.
Harkye, neighbour;--if he's a gentleman
(and I have several giddy young tenants, with more money than thought),
let him give you a good round sum, and there's an end.
JOB.
A good round sum!--Damn me, I shall choke!
[Aside.]
A ruffian, with a crape, puts a pistol to my breast, and robs me of forty shillings;--a scoundrel, with a smiling face, creeps to my fireside, and robs my daughter of her innocence. The judge can't allow restitution to spare the highwayman;--then, pray, Sir Simon,--I wish to speak humbly--pray don't insult the father, by calling money a reparation from the seducer.
SIR SIMON.
This fellow must be dealt with quietly I see--Justice, my honest
friend, is----justice.--As a magistrate, I make no distinction
of persons.--Seduction is a heinous offence: and, whatever is
in my power, I----
JOB.
The offender is in your power, Sir Simon.
SIR SIMON.
Well, well; don't be hasty, and I'll take cognizance of him.
--We must do things in form:--but you mustn't be passionate.
[Goes to the Table, and takes up a Pen.]
Come, give me his christian and surname, and I'll see
what's to be done for you.--Now, what name must I write?
JOB.
Francis Rochdale.
SIR SIMON.
[Drops the Pen, looks at JOB, and starts up.]
Damn me! if it isn't the brazier!
JOB.
Justice is justice, Sir Simon. I am a respectable tradesman, your
neighbour, and a freeholder.--Seduction is a heinous offence;
a magistrate knows no distinction of persons; and a rascal musn't
disgrace your estate four and twenty hours longer.
SIR SIMON.
[Sheepishly.]
I believe your name is Thornberry?
JOB.
It is, Sir Simon.
I never blush'd at my name, till your son made me blush for yours.
SIR SIMON.
Mr. Thornberry--I--I heard something of my son's--a--little indiscretion,
some mornings ago.
JOB.
Did you, Sir Simon? you never sent to me about it; so, I suppose,
the news reach'd you at one of the hours you don't set apart for justice.
SIR SIMON.
This is a----a very awkward business, Mr. Thornberry.
Something like a hump back;--we can never set it quite
straight, so we must bolster it.
JOB.
How do you mean, Sir Simon?
SIR SIMON.
Why--'tis a--a disagreeable affair, and--we--must hush it up.
JOB.
Hush it up! a justice compound with a father, to wink at his
child's injuries! if you and I hush it up so, Sir Simon,
how shall we hush it up here?
[Striking his Breast.]
In one word, will your son marry my daughter?
SIR SIMON.
What! my son marry the daughter of a brazier!
JOB.
He has ruined the daughter of a brazier.--If the best lord in
the land degrades himself by a crime, you can't call his
atonement for it a condescension.
SIR SIMON.
Honest friend--I don't know in what quantities you may sell brass
at your shop; but when you come abroad, and ask a baronet to marry
his son to your daughter, damn me, if you ar'n't a wholesale dealer!
JOB.
And I can't tell, Sir Simon, how you may please to retail justice;
but when a customer comes to deal largely with you, damn me if you
don't shut up the shop windows!
SIR SIMON.
You are growing saucy. Leave the room, or I shall commit you.
JOB.
Commit me! you will please to observe, Sir Simon, I remember'd my duty, till you forgot yours. You asked me, at first, to sit down in your presence. I knew better than to do so, before a baronet and a justice of peace. But I lose my respect for my superior in rank, when he's so much below my equals in fair dealing:--and, since the magistrate has left the chair
[Slams the Chair into the middle of the Room.]
I'll sit down on it.
[Sits down.]
There!--'Tis fit it should be fill'd by somebody--and, dam'me if I
leave the house till you redress my daughter, or I shame you all
over the county!
SIR SIMON.
Why, you impudent mechanic! I shou'dn't wonder if the
scoundrel call'd for my clerk, and sign'd my mittimus.
[Rings the Bell.]
Fellow, get out of that chair.
JOB.
I sha'n't stir. If you want to sit down, take another.
This is the chair of justice: it's the most uneasy
for you of any in the room.
[Enter SERVANT.]
SIR SIMON.
Tell Mr. Rochdale to come to me directly.
SERV.
Yes, Sir Simon.
[Sees JOB.]
Hee! hee!
SIR SIMON.
Don't stand grinning, you booby! but go.
SERV.
Yes, Sir Simon. Hee! he!
[Exit.]
JOB.
[Reaching a Book from the Table.]
"Burn's Justice!"
SIR SIMON.
And how dare you take it up?
JOB.
Because you have laid it down.
Read it a little better, and, then,
I may respect you more.--There it is.
[Throws it on the Floor.]
[Enter FRANK ROCHDALE.]
SIR SIMON.
So, sir! prettily I am insulted on your account!
FRANK.
Good Heaven, sir! what is the matter?
SIR SIMON.
The matter!
[Points to JOB.]
Lug that old bundle of brass out of my chair, directly.
[FRANK casts his Eyes on THORNBERRY,
then on the Ground, and stands abashed.]
JOB.
He dare as soon jump into one of your tin-mines.
Brass!--there is no baser metal than hypocrisy:
he came with that false coin to my shop, and it pass'd;
but see how conscience nails him to the spot, now!
FRANK.
[To SIR SIMON.]
Sir, I came to explain all.
SIR SIMON.
Sir, you must be aware that all is explained already.
You provoke a brazier almost to knock me down; and bring
me news of it, when he is fix'd as tight in my study,
as a copper in my kitchen.
FRANK.
[Advancing to JOB.]
Mr. Thornberry, I----
JOB.
Keep your distance! I'm an old fellow;
but if my daughter's seducer comes near me,
I'll beat him as flat as a stewpan.
FRANK.
[Still advancing.]
Suffer me to speak, and--
JOB.
[Rising from the Chair, and holding up his Cane.]
Come an inch nearer, and I'll be as good as my word.
[Enter PEREGRINE.]
PEREG.
Hold!
JOB.
Eh! you here?
then I have some chance, perhaps, of getting righted, at last.
PEREG.
Do not permit passion to weaken that chance.
JOB.
Oh, plague! you don't know;--I wasn't violent till----
PEREG.
Nay, nay; cease to grasp that cane.--While we are so conspicuously
bless'd with laws to chastise a culprit, the mace of justice is
the only proper weapon for the injured.--Let me talk with you.
[Takes THORNBERRY aside.]
SIR SIMON.
[To FRANK ROCHDALE.]
Well, sir; who may this last person be,
whom you have thought proper should visit me?
FRANK.
A stranger in this country, sir, and----
SIR SIMON.
And a friend, I perceive, of that old ruffian.
FRANK.
I have reason to think, sir, he is a friend to Mr. Thornberry.
SIR SIMON.
Sir, I am very much obliged to you.--You send a brazier to
challenge me, and now, I suppose, you have brought a travelling
tinker for his second. Where does he come from?
FRANK.
India, sir.
He leap'd from the vessel that was foundering on the rocks,
this morning, and swam to shore.
SIR SIMON.
Did he?
I wish he had taken the jump with the brazier tied to his neck.
[PEREGRINE and JOB come forward.]
PEREG.
[Apart to JOB.]
I can discuss it better in your absence. Be near with Mary:
should the issue be favourable, I will call you.
JOB.
[Apart to PEREG.]
Well, well! I will. You have a better head at it than I.
----Justice! Oh, if I was Lord Chancellor, I'd knock all
the family down with the mace, in a minute.
[Exit.]
PEREG.
Suffer me to say a few words, Sir Simon Rochdale,
in behalf of that unhappy man.
[Pointing to where JOB was gone out.]
SIR SIMON.
And pray, sir, what privilege have you to interfere in my domestic concerns?
PEREG.
None, as it appears abstractedly. Old Thornberry has just deputed me
to accommodate his domestic concerns with you: I would, willingly,
not touch upon yours.
SIR SIMON.
Poh! poh! You can't touch upon one,
Without being impertinent about the other.
PEREG.
Have the candour to suppose, Sir Simon, that I mean no disrespect to your house. Although I may stickle, lustily, with you, in the cause of an aggrieved man, believe me, early habits have taught me to be anxious for the prosperity of the Rochdales.
SIR SIMON.
Early habits!
PEREG.
I happened to be born on your estate, Sir Simon;
and have obligations to some part of your family.
SIR SIMON.
Then, upon my soul, you have chosen a pretty way to repay them!
PEREG.
I know no better way of repaying them, than by consulting your
family honour. In my boyhood, it seem'd as if nature had dropp'd me
a kind of infant subject on your father's Cornish territory;
and the whole pedigree of your house is familiar to me.
SIR SIMON.
Is it? Confound him, he has heard of the miller!
[Aside.]
Sir, you may talk this tolerably well; but 'tis my hope
--my opinion, I mean, you can't tell who was my grandfather.
PEREG.
Whisper the secret to yourself, Sir Simon; and let reason also whisper to you, that, when honest industry raises a family to opulence and honours, its very original lowness sheds lustre on its elevation;--but all its glory fades, when it has given a wound, and denies a balsam, to a man, as humble, and as honest, as your own ancestor.
SIR SIMON.
But I haven't given the wound.
--And why, good sir, won't you be pleased to speak your sentiments!
[To FRANK, who has retired, during the
above Conversation, to the Back of the Room.]
FRANK.
The first are, obedience to my father, sir; and, if I must proceed,
I own that nothing, in my mind, but the amplest atonement,
can extinguish true remorse for a cruelty.
SIR SIMON.
Ha! in other words, you can't clap an extinguisher upon your feelings,
without a father-in-law who can sell you one. But Lady Caroline
Braymore is your wife, or I am no longer your father.
[Enter TOM SHUFFLETON and LADY CAROLINE BRAYMORE.]
SHUFF. How d'ye do, good folks? How d'ye do?
SIR SIMON.
Ha! Lady Caroline!--Tom, I have had a little business.
--The last dinner-bell has rung, Lady Caroline;
but I'll attend you directly.
SHUFF.
Baronet, I'm afraid we sha'n't be able to dine with you to-day.
SIR SIMON.
Not dine with me!
LADY CAR.
No;--we are just married!
SIR SIMON.
Hell and the devil! married!
SHUFF.
Yes; we are married, and can't come.
PEREG.
[Aside.]
Then 'tis time to speak to old Thornberry.
[Exit.]
SIR SIMON.
Lady Caroline!
LADY CAR.
I lost my appetite in your family this morning, Sir Simon;
and have no relish for any thing you can have the goodness to offer me.
SHUFF.
Don't press us, baronet;--that's quite out, in the New School.
SIR SIMON.
Oh, damn the New School!--who will explain all this mystery?
FRANK.
Mr. Shuffleton shall explain it, sir; and other mysteries too.
SHUFF.
My dear Frank, I have something to say to you. But here comes my papa;
I've been talking to him, Sir Simon, and he'll talk to you.
He does very well to explain, for the benefit of a country gentleman.
[Enter LORD FITZ BALAAM.]
SIR SIMON.
My Lord, it is painful to be referred to you,
when so much is to be said. What is it all?
LORD FITZ.
You are disappointed, Sir Simon, and I am ruin'd.
SIR SIMON.
But, my lord----
[They go up the Stage.]
[LADY CAROLINE throws herself carelessly into a Chair.
SHUFFLETON advances to FRANK.]
SHUFF.
My dear Frank, I----I have had a devilish deal of trouble in getting
this business off your hands. But you see, I have done my best for you.
FRANK.
For yourself, you mean.
SHUFF.
Come, damn it, my good fellow, don't be ungrateful to a friend.
FRANK.
Take back this letter of recommendation, you wrote for Mary,
as a friend. When you assume that name with me, Mr. Shuffleton,
for myself I laugh; for you I blush; but for sacred friendship's
profanation I grieve.
[Turns from him.]
SHUFF.
That all happens from living so much out of town.
[Enter PEREGRINE, JOB THORNBERRY, and MARY.]
PEREG.
Now, Sir Simon, as accident seems to have thwarted a design,
which probity could never applaud, you may, perhaps,
be inclined to do justice here.
JOB.
Justice is all I come for--damn their favours! Cheer up, Mary!
SIR SIMON.
[To PEREG.]
I was in hopes I had got rid of you. You are an orator from the sea-shore;
but you must put more pebbles in your mouth before you harangue me
into a tea-kettle connexion.
SHUFF.
That's my friend at the Red Cow.
He is the new-old cher ami to honest tea-kettle's daughter.
FRANK.
Your insinuation is false, sir.
SHUFF.
False!
[Stepping forward.]
LADY CAR.
Hush! don't quarrel;--we are only married to-day.
SHUFF.
That's true;
I won't do any thing to make you unhappy for these three weeks.
PEREG.
Sir Simon Rochdale, if my oratory fail,
and which, indeed, is weak, may interest prevail with you?
SIR SIMON.
No; rather than consent, I'd give up every acre of my estate.
PEREG.
Your conduct proves you unworthy of your estate;
and, unluckily for you, you have roused the indignation
of an elder brother, who now stands before you, and claims it.
SIR SIMON.
Eh!--Zounds!--Peregrine!
PEREG.
I can make my title too good, in an instant, for you to dispute it.
My agent in London has long had documents on the secret he has kept;
and several old inhabitants here, I know, are prepared to identify me.
SIR SIMON.
I had a run-away brother--a boy that every body thought dead.
How came he not to claim till now?
PEREG.
Because, knowing he had given deep cause of offence,
he never would have asserted his abandon'd right,
had he not found a brother neglecting, what no
Englishman should neglect--justice and humanity to his inferiors.
[Enter DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY.]
DENNIS.
Stand asy, all of you; for I've big news for my half-drown'd customer.
Och! bless your mug! and is it there you are?
SIR SIMON.
What's the matter now?
DENNIS.
Hould your tongue, you little man!
--There's a great post just come to your Manor-house,
and the Indiaman's work'd into port.
JOB. What, the vessel with all your property?
[To PEREG.]
DENNIS.
By all that's amazing, they say you have a hundred thousand pounds
in that ship.
PEREG.
My losses might have been somewhat more without this recovery.
I have entered into a sort of partnership with you, my friend,
this morning. How can we dissolve it?
JOB.
You are an honest man; so am I; so settle that account as you like.
PEREG.
Come forth, then, injured simplicity;
--of your own cause you shall be now the arbitress.
MARY.
Do not make me speak, sir, I am so humbled--so abash'd----
JOB.
Nonsense! we are sticking up for right.
PEREG.
Will you then speak, Mr. Rochdale?
FRANK.
My father is bereft of a fortune, sir;
but I must hesitate till his fiat is obtained, as much as if he possess'd it.
SIR SIMON.
Nay, nay; follow your own inclinations now
FRANK.
May I, sir?
Oh, then, let the libertine now make reparation, and claim a wife.
[Running to MARY, and embracing her.]
DENNIS.
His wife! Och! what a big dinner we'll have at the Red Cow!
PEREG.
What am I to say, sir?
[To SIR SIMON.]
SIR SIMON.
Oh! you are to say what you please.
PEREG.
Then, bless you both! And, tho' I have passed so much of my life
abroad, brother, English equity is dear to my heart. Respect the
rights of honest John Bull, and our family concerns may be easily arranged.
JOB.
That's upright. I forgive you, young man, for what has passed;
but no one deserves forgiveness, who refuses to make amends,
when he has disturb'd the happiness of an Englishman's fireside.
[THE END]
George Colman's play: Englishman's Fireside: A Comedy, in Five Acts
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