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_ ACT III - SCENE IV
SCENE IV. Another part of MR. FRIENDLY'S House.
[WORTHNOUGHT, discovered solus.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
Who comes here! He sha'n't see her, if I don't,
'foregad--Curse me, but he shall go away with a flea in his ear.
[Enter YOUNG LOVEYET, followed by HUMPHRY.]
HUMPHRY.
Mr. Lovit--Mr. Lovit.
--[Takes him aside.]
As I was a going along, d'ye see, I see you pop in here, and so I follow'd you, to tell you, how old Mr. Lovit said he was intend for to go for to see the old fellow's daughter, to tell her something about the letter. Don't Mrs. Harriet live here?
LOVEYET.
I'll make haste, and supersede the design of his errand, if possible;
--it would be a pity he should come before I had appriz'd Harriet
I was not in the West-Indies.
[Aside.]
--I am obliged to you for your information.
[To HUMPHRY.]
HUMPHRY.
Thank 'e, as the saying is.
[Going,--WORTHNOUGHT whispers with him.]
--What's that to you?--How clumsy mounsieur has dress'd his calabash!--Powder'd over the face and eyes.
[Exit.
WORTHNOUGHT.
I wish I knew what he wanted with him;--perhaps it is something about me.
[Aside.]
LOVEYET.
What Butterfly is this we have here!--I suppose it is the fop, Frankton mentioned.
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
Sir, I have the honour to be, with the profoundest respect and esteem, your most obedient, most devoted, and most obliged humble slave, foy d'Homme d'Honneur--Tol lol, &c.
[Sings.]
LOVEYET.
A very pompous salutation, truly.
[Aside.]
--Your polite address does me too much honour, sir;
--I cannot conceive how you can be my obliged slave,
as I do not recollect I ever saw you before.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Why, sir, I'll tell you:
--Your appearance, sir, bespeaks the gentleman of distinction, sir,--
LOVEYET.
My appearance;--superficial coxcomb!
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
'Tis true, my words were words of course;
but I meant every word, sir, 'pon hanor.
--"Cupid, Gad of saft persuasion, &c."
[Sings affectedly, and takes snuff.]
LOVEYET.
Humph,--To whom, sir, am I indebted, for so much civility?
WORTHNOUGHT.
Dick Worthnought, esquire, at your service, sir.
LOVEYET.
The very fool.
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
And give me leave to add, sir, that I feel the highest felicity, that you have given me so good an opportunity of asking you, in my turn, for the favour of your name, sir.
LOVEYET.
My name is Loveyet, sir.--With what solemnity the coxcomb talks!
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
A native of this city, I presume, Mr. Loveyet.
LOVEYET.
I am, sir; but I have been absent for some years,
and, as I was a youth when I left the city,
I cannot be supposed to have retained much of the Yorker.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Pardon me, sir;--to a person of penetration, the Yorker is still conspicuous under the disguise of the foreigner; and I am proud to have the hanor of being your countryman, sir.
LOVEYET.
I fancy the honour is by no means reciprocal.
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
You are acquainted with Miss Harriet Trueman, I presume, Mr. Loveyet.
LOVEYET.
I was formerly acquainted with the lady.
WORTHNOUGHT.
You must know, sir, that your humble servant has the
hanor and felicity of being that lady's very humble admirer.
LOVEYET.
I dare say she is admired by all who have the pleasure of knowing her.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Give me leave, sir,--I mean her lover.
LOVEYET.
Conceited ape!
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
You have no pretensions, sir, I presume.
LOVEYET.
Pretensions?
WORTHNOUGHT.
Aye, sir; I thought you might have a small penchant, as the French call it;--you apprehend me; but she don't intend to see company to-day. I am monstrously chagrin'd, sir, 'foregad, that I have it not in my power to introduce you to the divine mistress of my heart; but, as matters are circumstanc'd, I think it is not worth our while to stay.
LOVEYET.
I mean to see Miss Trueman before I shall think so.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Oh, fie, sir;--you wou'd not force a lady to give you her company against her inclination:--perhaps, indeed, she may appear to receive you with some warmth, and you may flatter yourself you have fairly made a canquest of her, and think Dick Worthnought esquire, is out-rival'd; but if so, you are most demnably bit, 'foregad, for she's as slippery as ice, tho' not quite so cold;--she is the very standard of true modern coquetry, the quintessence of the beau-monde, and the completest example of New-York levity, that New-York has the hanor to call its beautiful inhabitant: ha, ha,--she'll jilt you;--however, the dear creature, with all her amiable foibles, has been so profuse of her attention to me, that I should be ungrateful not to acknowledge the various favours she has hanor'd me with.
LOVEYET.
Consummate impudence!
[Aside.]
--Miss Trueman's character is well known, sir.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Miss Trueman's character! Demme, sir, do you mean
to say anything against her character?
LOVEYET.
No;--and I will take care you shall not, with impunity.
WORTHNOUGHT.
You are the most unmannerly fellow I ever convers'd with, 'pan hanor.
LOVEYET.
And you the most contemptible puppy;
or that fellow would be unmannerly
enough to chastise you for your insolence.
WORTHNOUGHT.
That's a demnable rub, demme;--curse him, I'm afraid he isn't afraid of me, after all. [Aside.]--You wou'd find me as brave as yourself then; demme, but you wou'd.
LOVEYET.
I'll try you.
[Offers to cane him, which makes him cry out.
--Then enter HARRIET, hastily.]
HARRIET.
Oh, dear!--what's the matter?
[Seeing CHARLES, she shrieks.]
LOVEYET.
My dearest,--my adorable Harriet!
HARRIET.
Is it possible? I did not dream that Mr. Loveyet was
the person who wanted to see me.
LOVEYET.
And am I again blest with a sight of the dear object of all my wishes and affections!--I thank you, heaven; you have been bountiful, indeed! The rolling billows, under your propitious guidance, have at length wafted me to my native land, to love and my dear Harriet.
WORTHNOUGHT.
What the devil does he mean!
[Aside.]
HARRIET.
Your unexpected appearance, and the unaccountable circumstance which attends it, have discomposed me in such a manner, that I cannot express, as I wish, how happy I am in your safe arrival.
WORTHNOUGHT
. Hah,--happy in his arrival! If so, she will not be very happy in his rival, I'm afraid.
[Aside.]
LOVEYET.
I will explain the occasion of my charmer's fright
immediately;--at present I can only tell you that
your wou'd-be lover, here--
HARRIET.
My lover!
LOVEYET.
So he confidently call'd himself, and took such other insufferably vain and impudent freedoms with your name, that I attempted to give him a little wholesome admonition with this, if his effeminate cries had not brought my lovely Harriet in to prevent me; but the very attempt has proved him to be the basest of dastards.
[While he is saying this, WORTHNOUGHT
makes several attempts to interrupt him.]
HARRIET.
[To WORTHNOUGHT.]
I am equally surpriz'd and incens'd, sir, that you would dare to take such freedoms with my name.
LOVEYET.
Be assured, Miss Harriet, if you condescend to grant your valuable company to such superficial gentry, they will ever prove themselves as unworthy of it as he has; but your goodness does not let you suspect the use which such characters make of the intimacy they are honour'd with, or you would spurn their unmeaning flattery, and ridiculous fopperies, with indignation.
HARRIET.
I ever till now consider'd him as a respectful, well-meaning person, as far as regarded myself; and as such, gave him a prudent share of my civilities; but I never thought either his intellects or his person sufficient to entitle him to a partial intimacy.
WORTHNOUGHT.
You cannot deny, madam, that I have repeatedly experienced the most flattering proofs of your partiality, that a lady (who values her reputation) can ever bestow on her admirer.
HARRIET.
Contemptible thing! An admirer, forsooth! Of what?--Your ideas are too mean and frothy to let you admire anything but my dress, or some other trifle as empty and superficial as the trifler I am speaking to. My demeanour towards you was nothing but the effect of cheerfulness and politeness; qualities which, I believe, are inherent in me, and of which, therefore, all with whom I am acquainted are the objects; but your present unmanly and insupportably impudent discourse, makes me despise myself almost as much as you, for allowing such a wretch even that small degree of attention which he so illy deserved.
WORTHNOUGHT.
You are very insulting, madam, 'pan hanor.--
LOVEYET.
How apt such fellows are to have honour in their mouths.
[Aside.]
WORTHNOUGHT.
This is only a trick to conceal your inconstancy
during his absence; but it is the nature of the
sex to deceive us.
HARRIET.
'Tis the nature of a fool to say so; and if that fool does not instantly quit the subject and the house together, I must request the favour of Mr. Loveyet to make him.
LOVEYET.
"As matters are circumstanced, Mr. Worthnought,
I think it is not worth your while to stay."
WORTHNOUGHT.
Her unparallel'd rudeness shall not compel me
to leave the house, till I please.
LOVEYET.
"Oh, fie, sir,--you would not force a lady
to give you her company against her inclination."
WORTHNOUGHT.
You are very fond of echoing my words, it seems.
LOVEYET.
Yes, when I can apply them to your disappointment and disgrace.--"I am monstrously chagrin'd, sir, 'foregad, that I have it not in my power to introduce you to the divine mistress of my heart." Ha, ha, ha.
WORTHNOUGHT.
'Tis very well,--I will have revenge;--if the laws of politeness (which I would rather die than infringe) did not forbid swearing before a lady [In a contemptuous tone.], curse me, but I would d----n you for a--
LOVEYET.
[Interrupting him.]
--"You must know, sir, I have the hanor and felicity
of being this lady's very humble admirer."
--You have failed in your predictions, I think, sir.
WORTHNOUGHT.
Yes, and she shall soon pay for her duplicity; tho' I would not have you think that her ill usage mortifies me in the least: I never was in love with her, nor did I ever intend marriage, which is more than she can say; and, I believe, it is fortunate for us both, that you arriv'd when you did, or something might have happened, which would have obliged me to marry her, merely to prevent her from being miserable.--Ha, ha, ha. Tol lol, &c.
[Exit.]
HARRIET.
What a superlative wretch!
LOVEYET.
He is too contemptible to cost you a thought, Harriet:--none but the puppy tribe, and a few splenetic old maids, will pay any attention to his slander; they, no doubt, will spread it with avidity;--but to be traduced by such, is to be praised.--Hah!--there comes my father;--I forgot to tell you I expected him here: I will try if he knows me.
[Enter OLD LOVEYET.]
OLD LOVEYET.
Madam, your most obedient;--Sir, your servant.
LOVEYET.
[Bows.]
I find he does not know me:
--Nature, be still; for now I feel he is indeed my father.
HARRIET.
Mr. Loveyet, I am happy to see you.
OLD LOVEYET.
She would not be quite so happy, if she knew my errand.
[Aside.]
--I have waited on you, madam, upon disagreeable business.
HARRIET.
How, sir?--I beg you will not leave me in suspense: What is it?
OLD LOVEYET.
It is a matter of a delicate nature, madam,
and therefore, must not be spoken at random.
LOVEYET.
Heaven avert any unfavourable event!
[Aside.]
HARRIET.
Mr. Loveyet, your cautious innuendoes give me sensible uneasiness.
LOVEYET.
I will withdraw, Miss Trueman;--My love--friendship, I would say, though it wishes to afford you happiness, and participate in your troubles, does not presume to intrude on the private conversation Mr. Loveyet wishes.
HARRIET.
I dare say your presence is no restraint, sir.
OLD LOVEYET.
I don't know that, madam: pray, who is the gentleman?
HARRIET.
The gentleman is my very particular friend, sir.
OLD LOVEYET.
By my body, here is rare work going on.
--[Aside.]
--Well, madam, as the gentleman is your very particular friend; and as his love--friendship, I mean, is so great, that you dare to entrust all your secrets with him; I shall acquaint you, that, as you and my son have long entertained a partiality for each other, and being desirous to fulfill all my engagements, as well as to make him happy, I have wrote for him to come and conclude the marriage; but, for very good reasons, I have this day determined to forbid the bans; and Mr. Trueman says, he is very willing too.
LOVEYET.
Hah!--what can all this mean?
[Aside.
OLD LOVEYET.
You must know, madam, your father has us'd me very ill; and--to be plain with you, madam, your familiarity with this person, convinces me you wou'd have play'd the fool with my son, without my breaking the match. Ugh, ugh.
LOVEYET.
The old gentleman imagines I am going to cut myself out, it seems.
[Aside to HARRIET.]
HARRIET.
You do not know who this is, sir, or you would not put any improper constructions on the friendly freedom you have observ'd between us.
LOVEYET.
True; and, therefore, you need not be concerned
at what he says.--Since he has made this unlucky
resolution, he must not know who I am.
[Aside to HARRIET.]
OLD LOVEYET.
How well she dissembles!
--Friendly freedom,--a pretty term that, for the wanton hussy.
[Aside.]
--I wish Charles was here now; he wou'd acknowledge his father's kindness in preventing a match, which, I am sure, would end in sorrow and disappointment.
LOVEYET.
I doubt that much.--This parent of mine is a singular character.
[Aside to HARRIET.]
HARRIET.
It is necessary you should be made acquainted with some of his oddities: his most striking peculiarity is a desire to be thought younger than he is; and, I dare say, some remark of my father, respecting his age, is the only cause of his present ill humour.
OLD LOVEYET.
Look how they whisper!--well, she is the most brazen coquette
I ever knew!--Yes, yes, now her scandalous conduct is glaring enough.
[Aside.]
--I wish you and your very particular friend, a good day, madam.
[Exit.]
HARRIET.
I think our troubles increase fast: how unlucky, that this dispute should happen at the very crisis of your arrival;--an event which we fondly expected would be attended with the most pleasing circumstances.
LOVEYET.
Those fond expectations, my lovely partner in trouble, shall soon be realized;--this is only the momentary caprice of old age.
HARRIET.
You must take care not to talk of age, before him.
LOVEYET.
Yes, my fair monitor; I shall think of that: and now permit me, in my turn, to give you a little advice.--In the first place, I would have you go to your father--fall at his feet--clasp your fair hands, thus--beseeching him in such terms as that gentle heart is so well form'd to dictate, and persuading him with the all-prevailing music of that tuneful voice, to recall his rigourous intention, nor doom such angelic goodness and beauty to despair, by persisting to oppose an alliance which alone can make you blest; and without which, the most faithful of lovers will be rendered the most wretched one on earth. I shall take a similar method with my old gentleman, and I think I can insure myself success.
HARRIET.
This is all very fine; but--to have the voluntary consent of the parent one loves,--how infinitely more agreeable! I would not offend mine, for the world: and yet--
LOVEYET.
And yet you will be obliged to offend him, by having me, eigh?
HARRIET.
Pshaw;--how strangely you misconstrue my meaning: I was going to observe, that I expect his obstinacy and pride will prove invincible, in spite of all the rhetoric you are pleased to ascribe to me.
LOVEYET.
Then we will employ a little rhetoric, against which another class of fathers are not quite so invincible.--Parsons are plenty, you know; and Gold and Silver are persuasive little words. Love inspires me with the spirit of prophecy, and tells me I shall soon with propriety call the loveliest of her sex, mine.
HARRIET.
You are very eloquent, Mr. Loveyet: I do not think
the subject merits so many florid speeches.
LOVEYET.
Not merit them!--
'Tis not in human language, to define
Merit so rare, and beauty--so divine!
Then what avails this little praise of mine?
HARRIET.
Harriet deserves not praise so great as thine.
[Exeunt.] _
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