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_ ACT III - SCENE I
[DIMPLE'S Room.]
DIMPLE
[discovered at a Toilet, Reading.]
"WOMEN have in general but one object, which is their beauty." Very
true, my lord; positively very true. "Nature has hardly formed a woman
ugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon her person." Extremely
just, my lord; every day's delightful experience confirms this. "If
her face is so shocking that she must, in some degree, be conscious of
it, her figure and air, she thinks, make ample amends for it." The
sallow Miss Wan is a proof of this. Upon my telling the distasteful
wretch, the other day, that her countenance spoke the pensive language
of sentiment, and that Lady Wortley Montague declared that if the
ladies were arrayed in the garb of innocence, the face would be the
last part which would be admired, as Monsieur Milton expresses it; she
grinn'd horribly, a ghastly smile. "If her figure is deformed, she
thinks her face counterbalances it."
[Enter JESSAMY. with letters.]
DIMPLE.
Where got you these, Jessamy?
JESSAMY.
Sir, the English packet is arrived.
DIMPLE
[opens and reads a letter enclosing notes.]
"Sir,
"I have drawn bills on you in favour of Messrs. Van Cash and Co. as
per margin. I have taken up your note to Col. Piquet, and discharged
your debts to my Lord Lurcher and Sir Harry Rook. I herewith enclose
you copies of the bills, which I have no doubt will be immediately
honoured. On failure, I shall empower some lawyer in your country to
recover the amounts.
"I am, Sir,
"Your most humble servant,
"JOHN HAZARD."
Now, did not my lord expressly say that it was unbecoming a well-bred
man to be in a passion, I confess I should be ruffled. [Reads.]
"There is no accident so unfortunate, which a wise man may not turn to
his advantage; nor any accident so fortunate, which a fool will not
turn to his disadvantage." True, my lord; but how advantage can be
derived from this I can't see. Chesterfield himself, who made,
however, the worst practice of the most excellent precepts, was never
in so embarrassing a situation. I love the person of Charlotte, and it
is necessary I should command the fortune of Letitia. As to Maria!--I
doubt not by my sang-froid behaviour I shall compel her to decline the
match; but the blame must not fall upon me. A prudent man, as my lord
says, should take all the credit of a good action to himself, and throw
the discredit of a bad one upon others. I must break with Maria, marry
Letitia, and as for Charlotte--why, Charlotte must be a companion to my
wife.--Here, Jessamy!
[Enter JESSAMY.]
[DIMPLE folds and seals two letters.]
DIMPLE.
Here, Jessamy, take this letter to my love.
[Gives one.]
JESSAMY.
To which of your honour's loves?--Oh! [reading] to Miss Letitia, your
honour's rich love.
DIMPLE.
And this [delivers another] to Miss Charlotte Manly. See that you
deliver them privately.
JESSAMY.
Yes, your honour.
[Going.]
DIMPLE.
Jessamy, who are these strange lodgers that came to the house last night?
JESSAMY.
Why, the master is a Yankee colonel; I have not seen much of him; but
the man is the most unpolished animal your honour ever disgraced your
eyes by looking upon. I have had one of the most outre conversations
with him!--He really has a most prodigious effect upon my risibility.
DIMPLE.
I ought, according to every rule of Chesterfield, to wait on him and
insinuate myself into his good graces.--Jessamy, wait on the colonel
with my compliments, and if he is disengaged I will do myself the
honour of paying him my respects.--Some ignorant, unpolished boor--
[JESSAMY goes off and returns.]
JESSAMY.
Sir, the colonel is gone out, and Jonathan his servant says that he is
gone to stretch his legs upon the Mall.--Stretch his legs! what an
indelicacy of diction!
DIMPLE.
Very well. Reach me my hat and sword. I'll accost him there, in my
way to Letitia's, as by accident; pretend to be struck by his person
and address, and endeavour to steal into his confidence. Jessamy, I
have no business for you at present.
[Exit.]
JESSAMY.
[taking up the book].
My master and I obtain our knowledge from the same source;--though,
gad! I think myself much the prettier fellow of the two. [Surveying
himself in the glass.] That was a brilliant thought, to insinuate that
I folded my master's letters for him; the folding is so neat, that it
does honour to the operator. I once intended to have insinuated that I
wrote his letters too; but that was before I saw them; it won't do now;
no honour there, positively.--"Nothing looks more vulgar, [reading
affectedly] ordinary, and illiberal than ugly, uneven, and ragged
nails; the ends of which should be kept even and clean, not tipped with
black, and cut in small segments of circles."--Segments of circles!
surely my lord did not consider that he wrote for the beaux. Segments
of circles; what a crabbed term! Now I dare answer that my master,
with all his learning, does not know that this means, according to the
present mode, let the nails grow long, and then cut them off even at
top. [Laughing without.] Ha! that's Jenny's titter. I protest I
despair of ever teaching that girl to laugh; she has something so
execrably natural in her laugh, that I declare it absolutely
discomposes my nerves. How came she into our house!
[Calls.]
Jenny!
[Enter JENNY.]
JESSAMY.
Prythee, Jenny, don't spoil your fine face with laughing.
JENNY.
Why, mustn't I laugh, Mr. Jessamy?
JESSAMY.
You may smile, but, as my lord says, nothing can authorise a laugh.
JENNY.
Well, but I can't help laughing.--Have you seen him, Mr. Jessamy? ha,
ha, ha!
JESSAMY.
Seen whom?
JENNY.
Why, Jonathan, the New England colonel's servant. Do you know he was
at the play last night, and the stupid creature don't know where he has
been. He would not go to a play for the world; he thinks it was a
show, as he calls it.
JESSAMY.
As ignorant and unpolished as he is, do you know, Miss Jenny, that I
propose to introduce him to the honour of your acquaintance?
JENNY.
Introduce him to me! for what?
JESSAMY.
Why, my lovely girl, that you may take him under your protection, as
Madame Ramboulliet did young Stanhope; that you may, by your plastic
hand, mould this uncouth cub into a gentleman. He is to make love to
you.
JENNY.
Make love to me!--
JESSAMY.
Yes, Mistress Jenny, make love to you; and, I doubt not, when he shall
become domesticated in your kitchen, that this boor, under your
auspices, will soon become un amiable petit Jonathan.
JENNY.
I must say, Mr. Jessamy, if he copies after me, he will be vastly,
monstrously polite.
JESSAMY.
Stay here one moment, and I will call him.--Jonathan!--Mr. Jonathan!--[Calls.]
JONATHAN.
[within]
Holla! there.--[Enters.] You promise to stand by me--six bows you say.
[Bows.]
JESSAMY.
Mrs. Jenny, I have the honour of presenting Mr. Jonathan, Colonel
Manly's waiter, to you. I am extremely happy that I have it in my
power to make two worthy people acquainted with each other's merits.
JENNY.
So, Mr. Jonathan, I hear you were at the play last night.
JONATHAN.
At the play! why, did you think I went to the devil's drawing-room?
JENNY.
The devil's drawing-room!
JONATHAN.
Yes; why an't cards and dice the devil's device, and the play-house the
shop where the devil hangs out the vanities of the world upon the
tenter-hooks of temptation? I believe you have not heard how they were
acting the old boy one night, and the wicked one came among them sure
enough, and went right off in a storm, and carried one quarter of the
play-house with him. Oh! no, no, no! you won't catch me at a
play-house, I warrant you.
JENNY.
Well, Mr. Jonathan, though I don't scruple your veracity, I have some
reasons for believing you were there: pray, where were you about six
o'clock?
JONATHAN.
Why, I went to see one Mr. Morrison, the hocus pocus man; they said as
how he could eat a case knife.
JENNY.
Well, and how did you find the place?
JONATHAN.
As I was going about here and there, to and again, to find it, I saw a
great crowd of folks going into a long entry that had lantherns over
the door; so I asked a man whether that was not the place where they
played hocus pocus? He was a very civil, kind man, though he did speak
like the Hessians; he lifted up his eyes and said, "They play hocus
pocus tricks enough there, Got knows, mine friend."
JENNY.
Well--
JONATHAN.
So I went right in, and they shewed me away, clean up to the garret,
just like meeting-house gallery. And so I saw a bower of topping
folks, all sitting round in little cabbins, "just like father's
corn-cribs"; and then there was such a squeaking with the fiddles, and
such a tarnal blaze with the lights, my head was near turned. At last
the people that sat near me set up such a hissing--hiss--like so many
mad cats; and then they went thump, thump, thump, just like our Peleg
threshing wheat, and stampt away, just like the nation; and called out
for one Mr. Langolee,--I suppose he helps act the tricks.
JENNY.
Well, and what did you do all this time?
JONATHAN.
Gor, I--I liked the fun, and so I thumpt away, and hiss'd as lustily as
the best of 'em. One sailor-looking man that sat by me, seeing me
stamp, and knowing I was a cute fellow, because I could make a roaring
noise, clapt me on the shoulder and said, "You are a d---d hearty cock,
smite my timbers!" I told him so I was, but I thought he need not
swear so, and make use of such naughty words.
JESSAMY.
The savage!--Well, and did you see the man with his tricks?
JONATHAN.
Why, I vow, as I was looking out for him, they lifted up a great green
cloth and let us look right into the next neighbor's house. Have you a
good many houses in New-York made so in that 'ere way?
JENNY.
Not many; but did you see the family?
JONATHAN.
Yes, swamp it; I see'd the family.
JENNY.
Well, and how did you like them?
JONATHAN.
Why, I vow they were pretty much like other families;--there was a
poor, good-natured, curse of a husband, and a sad rantipole of a wife.
JENNY.
But did you see no other folks?
JONATHAN.
Yes. There was one youngster; they called him Mr. Joseph; he talked as
sober and as pious as a minister; but, like some ministers that I know,
he was a sly tike in his heart for all that. He was going to ask a
young woman to spark it with him, and--the Lord have mercy on my
soul!--she was another man's wife.
JESSAMY.
The Wabash!
JENNY.
And did you see any more folks?
JONATHAN.
Why, they came on as thick as mustard. For my part, I thought the
house was haunted. There was a soldier fellow, who talked about his
row de dow, dow, and courted a young woman; but, of all the cute folk I
saw, I liked one little fellow--
JENNY.
Aye! who was he?
JONATHAN.
Why, he had red hair, and a little round plump face like mine, only not
altogether so handsome. His name was--Darby;--that was his baptizing
name; his other name I forgot. Oh! it was Wig--Wag--Wag-all,
Darby Wag-all,--pray, do you know him?--I should
like to take a sling with him, or a drap of cyder with a pepper-pod in
it, to make it warm and comfortable.
JENNY.
I can't say I have that pleasure.
JONATHAN.
I wish you did; he is a cute fellow. But there was one thing I didn't
like in that Mr. Darby; and that was, he was afraid of some of them
'ere shooting irons, such as your troopers wear on training days. Now,
I'm a true born Yankee American son of liberty, and I never was afraid
of a gun yet in all my life.
JENNY.
Well, Mr. Jonathan, you were certainly at the play-house.
JONATHAN.
I at the play-house!--Why didn't I see the play then?
JENNY.
Why, the people you saw were players.
JONATHAN.
Mercy on my soul! did I see the wicked players?-- Mayhap that 'ere
Darby that I liked so was the old serpent himself, and had his cloven
foot in his pocket. Why, I vow, now I come to think on't, the candles
seemed to burn blue, and I am sure where I sat it smelt tarnally of
brimstone.
JESSAMY.
Well, Mr. Jonathan, from your account, which I confess is very
accurate, you must have been at the play-house.
JONATHAN.
Why, I vow, I began to smell a rat. When I came away, I went to the
man for my money again; you want your money? says he; yes, says I; for
what? says he; why, says I, no man shall jocky me out of my money; I
paid my money to see sights, and the dogs a bit of a sight have I seen,
unless you call listening to people's private business a sight. Why,
says he, it is the School for Scandalization.--The School for
Scandalization!--Oh! ho! no wonder you New-York folks are so cute at
it, when you go to school to learn it; and so I jogged off.
JESSAMY.
My dear Jenny, my master's business drags me from you; would to
heaven I knew no other servitude than to your charms.
JONATHAN.
Well, but don't go; you won't leave me so--
JESSAMY.
Excuse me.--Remember the cash.
[Aside to him, and--Exit.]
JENNY.
Mr. Jonathan, won't you please to sit down? Mr. Jessamy
tells me you wanted to have some conversation with me.
[Having brought forward two chairs, they sit.]
JONATHAN.
Ma'am!--
JENNY.
Sir!--
JONATHAN.
Ma'am!--
JENNY.
Pray, how do you like the city, Sir?
JONATHAN.
Ma'am!--
JENNY.
I say, Sir, how do you like New-York?
JONATHAN.
Ma'am!--
JENNY.
The stupid creature! but I must pass some little time with him, if it
is only to endeavour to learn whether it was his master that made such
an abrupt entrance into our house, and my young mistress's heart, this
morning. [Aside.] As you don't seem to like to talk, Mr. Jonathan--do
you sing?
JONATHAN.
Gor, I--I am glad she asked that, for I forgot what Mr.
Jessamy bid me say, and I dare as well be hanged as act what he bid me
do, I'm so ashamed. [Aside.] Yes, Ma'am, I can sing--I can sing Mear,
Old Hundred, and Bangor.
JENNY.
Oh! I don't mean psalm tunes. Have you no little song to please the
ladies, such as Roslin Castle, or the Maid of the Mill?
JONATHAN.
Why, all my tunes go to meeting tunes, save one, and I count you won't
altogether like that 'ere.
JENNY.
What is it called?
JONATHAN.
I am sure you have heard folks talk about it; it is called Yankee
Doodle.
JENNY.
Oh! it is the tune I am fond of; and if I know anything of my mistress,
she would be glad to dance to it. Pray, sing!
JONATHAN.
[Sings.]
Father and I went up to camp,
Along with Captain Goodwin;
And there we saw the men and boys,
As thick as hasty-pudding.
Yankee doodle do, etc.
And there we saw a swamping gun,
Big as log of maple,
On a little deuced cars,
A load for father's cattle.
Yankee doodle do, etc.
And every time they fired it off
It took a horn of powder,
It made a noise--like father's gun,
Only a nation louder.
Yankee doodle do, etc.
There was a man in our town,
His name was--
No, no, that won't do. Now, if I was with Tabitha Wymen and Jemima
Cawley down at father Chase's, I shouldn't mind singing this all out
before them--you would be affronted if I was to sing that, though
that's a lucky thought; if you should be affronted, I have something
dang'd cute, which Jessamy told me to say to you.
JENNY.
Is that all! I assure you I like it of all things.
JONATHAN.
No, no; I can sing more; some other time, when you and I are better
acquainted, I'll sing the whole of it--no, no--that's a fib--I can't
sing but a hundred and ninety verses; our Tabitha at home can sing it
all.--[Sings.]
Marblehead's a rocky place,
And Cape-Cod is sandy;
Charlestown is burnt down,
Boston is the dandy.
Yankee doodle, doodle do, etc.
I vow, my own town song has put me into such topping spirits that I
believe I'll begin to do a little, as Jessamy says we must when we go
a-courting.--[Runs and kisses her.] Burning rivers! cooling flames!
red-hot roses! pig-nuts! hasty-pudding and ambrosia!
JENNY.
What means this freedom? you insulting wretch. [Strikes him.]
JONATHAN.
Are you affronted?
JENNY.
Affronted! with what looks shall I express my anger?
JONATHAN.
Looks! why as to the matter of looks, you look as cross as a witch.
JENNY.
Have you no feeling for the delicacy of my sex?
JONATHAN.
Feeling! Gor, I--I feel the delicacy of your sex pretty smartly
[rubbing his cheek], though, I vow, I thought when you city ladies
courted and married, and all that, you put feeling out of the question.
But I want to know whether you are really affronted, or only pretend to
be so? 'Cause, if you are certainly right down affronted, I am at the
end of my tether; Jessamy didn't tell me what to say to you.
JENNY.
Pretend to be affronted!
JONATHAN.
Aye, aye, if you only pretend, you shall hear how I'll go to work to
make cherubim consequences.
[Runs up to her.]
JENNY.
Begone, you brute!
JONATHAN.
That looks like mad; but I won't lose my speech. My dearest
Jenny--your name is Jenny, I think?--My dearest Jenny, though I have
the highest esteem for the sweet favours you have just now granted
me--Gor, that's a fib, though; but Jessamy says it is not wicked to
tell lies to the women. [Aside.] I say, though I have the highest
esteem for the favours you have just now granted me, yet you will
consider that, as soon as the dissolvable knot is tied, they will no
longer be favours, but only matters of duty and matters of course.
JENNY.
Marry you! you audacious monster! get out of my sight, or, rather, let
me fly from you.
[Exit hastily.]
JONATHAN.
Gor! she's gone off in a swinging passion, before I had time to think
of consequences. If this is the way with your city ladies, give me the
twenty acres of rock, the Bible, the cow, and Tabitha, and a little
peaceable bundling. _
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