JESSAMY. Vulgar, horrid brute! Married, and above a hundred miles from his wife, and think that an objection to his making love to every woman he meets! He never can have read, no, he never can have been in a room with a volume of the divine Chesterfield.--So you are married?
JONATHAN. No, I don"t say so; I said I was as good as married, a kind of promise.
JESSAMY. As good as married!--
JONATHAN. Why, yes; there"s Tabitha Wymen, the deacon"s daughter, at home; she and I have been courting a great while, and folks say as how we are to be married; and so I broke a piece of money with her when we parted, and she promised not to spark it with Solomon Dyer while I am gone. You wou"dn"t have me false to my true-love, would you?
JESSAMY. Maybe you have another reason for constancy; possibly the young lady has a fortune? Ha! Mr. Jonathan, the solid charms: the chains of love are never so binding as when the links are made of gold.
JONATHAN. Why, as to fortune, I must needs say her father is pretty dumb rich; he went representative for our town last year. He will give her--let me see--four times seven is--seven times four--nought and carry one,--he will give her twenty acres of land--somewhat rocky though--a Bible, and a cow.
JESSAMY. Twenty acres of rock, a Bible, and a cow! Why, my dear Mr.
Jonathan, we have servant-maids, or, as you would more elegantly express it, waitresses, in this city, who collect more in one year from their mistresses" cast clothes.
JONATHAN. You don"t say so!--
JESSAMY. Yes, and I"ll introduce you to one of them. There is a little lump of flesh and delicacy that lives at next door, waitress to Miss Maria; we often see her on the stoop.
JONATHAN. But are you sure she would be courted by me?
JESSAMY. Never doubt it; remember a faint heart never--blisters on my tongue--I was going to be guilty of a vile proverb; flat against the authority of Chesterfield. I say there can be no doubt that the brilliancy of your merit will secure you a favourable reception.
JONATHAN. Well, but what must I say to her?
JESSAMY. Say to her! why, my dear friend, though I admire your profound knowledge on every other subject, yet, you will pardon my saying that your want of opportunity has made the female heart escape the poignancy of your penetration. Say to her! Why, when a man goes a-courting, and hopes for success, he must begin with doing, and not saying.
JONATHAN. Well, what must I do?
JESSAMY. Why, when you are introduced you must make five or six elegant bows.
JONATHAN. Six elegant bows! I understand that; six, you say? Well--
JESSAMY. Then you must press and kiss her hand; then press and kiss, and so on to her lips and cheeks: then talk as much as you can about hearts, darts, flames, nectar, and ambrosia--the more incoherent the better.
JONATHAN. Well, but suppose she should be angry with I?
JESSAMY. Why, if she should pretend--please to observe, Mr. Jonathan--if she should pretend to be offended, you must--But I"ll tell you how my master acted in such a case: He was seated by a young lady of eighteen upon a sofa, plucking with a wanton hand the blooming sweets of youth and beauty. When the lady thought it necessary to check his ardour, she called up a frown upon her lovely face, so irresistibly alluring, that it would have warmed the frozen bosom of age; remember, said she, putting her delicate arm upon his, remember your character and my honour. My master instantly dropped upon his knees, with eyes swimming with love, cheeks glowing with desire, and in the gentlest modulation of voice he said: My dear Caroline, in a few months our hands will be indissolubly united at the altar; our hearts I feel are already so; the favours you now grant as evidence of your affection are favours indeed; yet, when the ceremony is once past, what will now be received with rapture will then be attributed to duty.
JONATHAN. Well, and what was the consequence?
JESSAMY. The consequence!--Ah! forgive me, my dear friend, but you New-England gentlemen have such a laudable curiosity of seeing the bottom of everything;--why, to be honest, I confess I saw the blooming cherub of a consequence smiling in its angelic mother"s arms, about ten months afterwards.
JONATHAN. Well, if I follow all your plans, make them six bows, and all that, shall I have such little cherubim consequences?
JESSAMY. Undoubtedly.--What are you musing upon?
JONATHAN. You say you"ll certainly make me acquainted?--Why, I was thinking then how I should contrive to pa.s.s this broken piece of silver--won"t it buy a sugar-dram?
JESSAMY. What is that, the love-token from the deacon"s daughter?--You come on bravely. But I must hasten to my master. Adieu, my dear friend.
JONATHAN. Stay, Mr. Jessamy--must I buss her when I am introduced to her?
JESSAMY. I told you, you must kiss her.
JONATHAN. Well, but must I buss her?
JESSAMY. Why kiss and buss, and buss and kiss, is all one.
JONATHAN. Oh! my dear friend, though you have a profound knowledge of all, a pugnency of tribulation, you don"t know everything.
[_Exit._
JESSAMY [_alone_].
Well, certainly I improve; my master could not have insinuated himself with more address into the heart of a man he despised. Now will this blundering dog sicken Jenny with his nauseous pawings, until she flies into my arms for very ease. How sweet will the contrast be between the blundering Jonathan and the courtly and accomplished Jessamy!
_End of the Second Act._
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 grin"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 pa.s.sion, 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 embarra.s.sing a situation. I love the person of Charlotte, and it is necessary I should command the fortune of Let.i.tia. 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 Let.i.tia, and as for Charlotte--why, Charlotte must be a companion to my wife.--Here, Jessamy!