Chapter 4

SERJEANT.

Well, I do.

Sir LUKE.

[Rising.] Soft! let us see that all's safe;—well, Mr. Serjeant, do you know that you are—a fine, honest fellow?

SERJEANT.

Is that such a secret?

Sir LUKE.

Be quiet; a damn'd honest fellow—but as to your wife—

SERJEANT.

Well?

Sir LUKE.

She is an infamous strum—

SERJEANT.

How! it is a falshood Sir Luke, my wife is as virtuous a wom—

Sir LUKE.

Oh! if you are angry, your servant—I thought that the news would have pleas'd you—for after all, what is the business to me? What do I get by the bargain?

SERJEANT.

That's true; but then would it not vex any man to hear his wife abus'd in such a—

Sir LUKE.

Not if it's true, you old fool.

SERJEANT.

I say it is false: prove it; give me that satisfaction Sir Luke.

Sir LUKE.

Oh! you shall have that pleasure directly; and to come at once to the point—you remember last New-year's day how severely it froze.

SERJEANT.

I do recollect.

Sir LUKE.

Very well; we are all invited to dine at Alderman Inkle's.

SERJEANT.

Very right.

Sir LUKE.

Well, and I did not go: Mrs. Circuit made me dine here, in this house—was it my fault?

SERJEANT.

No, no, Sir Luke, no.

Sir LUKE.

At table says she—she said, I was the picture of you—was it my fault?

SERJEANT.

Well, and suppose you are; where's the mischief in that?

Sir LUKE.

Be quiet, I tell you;—then throwing her arms round my neck,—it is my husband himself I embrace, it is my little old man that I kiss!—for she has a prodigious affection for you at bottom—was it my fault?

SERJEANT.

But what is there serious in this, dost think I mind such trifles?

Sir LUKE.

Hold your tongue, you fool, for a moment—then throwing her Teresa aside—upon my soul she is prodigious fine every where here—was it my fault?

SERJEANT.

My fault! my fault! I see no fault in all this.

Sir LUKE.

[Hatching a cry.] No! why then my dear friend, do you know that I was so unworthy, so profligate, so abandon'd—as to—[rises] say no more, the business is done.

SERJEANT.

Ay, indeed!

Sir LUKE.

Oh! fact! there is not the least doubt of the matter; this is nohear say, dy'e see, I was by all the while.

SERJEANT.

Very pretty! very fine upon my word.

Sir LUKE.

Was it my fault? what could I do? put yourself in my place; I must have been more, or less, than man to resist.

SERJEANT.

Your fault, Sir Luke, no, no—you did but your duty—but as to my wife—

Sir LUKE.

She's a diabolical fiend, I shall hate her as long as I live.

SERJEANT.

And I too.

Sir LUKE.

Only think of her forcing me, as it were with a sword at my breast, to play such a trick; you, my dear Serjeant, the best, truest friend I have in the world. [Weeps.]

SERJEANT.

[Weeping.] Dry your tears, dear Sir Luke; I shall ever gratefully acknowledge your confidence in trustingmewith the secret—[taking him forward.] But I think it might be as well kept from the rest of the world.

Sir LUKE.

My dear soul, do you think I would tell it to any mortal butyou? No, no, not to my brother himself—You are the only man upon earth I wou'd trust.

SERJEANT.

Ten thousand thanks, my dear friend! sure there is no comfort, no balsam in life like a friend—but I shall make Madam Circuit remember—

Sir LUKE.

We neither of us ought to forgive her—were I you, I'd get a divorce.

SERJEANT.

So I will—provided you will promise not to marry her after.

Sir LUKE.

Me! I'll sooner be torn to pieces by wild horses—no, my dear friend, we will retire to my house in the country together, and there, in innocence and simplicity, feeding our pigs and pigeons, like Pyramus and Thisbe, we will live the paragons of the age.

SERJEANT.

Agreed; we will be the whole earth to each other; for, as Mr.Shakespursays,

"The friend thou hast and his adoption try'dClasp to thy soul, and quit the world beside."—

Sir LUKE.

Zouns, here comes Madam Serjeant herself.

Enter Mrs.Circuit.

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

So, Gentlemen! a sweet tête a tête you have been holding—but I know it all, not a syllable you have said has been lost.

Sir LUKE.

Then, I hope you have been well entertained Mrs. Circuit?

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

And you, you mean spirited, dastardly wretch, to lend a patient ear to his infamous, improbable tales, equally shameful both to you and me.

SERJEANT.

How Madam! have you the assurance—

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

Yes, Sir, the assurance that innocence gives; there is not a soul, I thank heaven, that can lay the least soil, the least spot, on my virtue; nor is there a man on earth but yourself would have sat and silently listen'd to the fictions and fables of this intemperate sot.

SERJEANT.

Why to be sure the knight is overtaken a little; very near drunk.

Sir LUKE.

I hope he believes it is a lie. [Aside.]

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

Do me instant justice on this defamer, this lyar, or never more expect to see me in your house.

SERJEANT.

I begin to find out the fraud, this is all a flam of the knight's.

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

I'll drive this instant to a friend of mine in the Commons, and see if no satisfaction can be had, for blasting the reputation of a woman like me—and hark you Sir, what inducement, what devil could prompt?—

SERJEANT.

Ay; what devil could prompt—

Sir LUKE.

Heyday!

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

But I guess at your motive; you flatter'd yourself, that by marrying Charlot, and discarding of me you should engross all his affections and—

SERJEANT.

True, true—stop, my life, let me come at him, a little: hark you, Mr. Knight, I begin to discover that you are a very sad dog.

Sir LUKE.

Et tu Brute!

SERJEANT.

Brute!—you'll find I am not the brute you would have made me believe—I have consider'd both sides of the question.

Sir LUKE.

Both sides of the question?

SERJEANT.

Both: if your story is true, you are a scoundrel to debauch the wife of your friend; and if it is false, you are an infamous lyar.

Sir LUKE.

Well argued.

SERJEANT.

So in both cases, get out of my house.

Sir LUKE.

Nay, but Serjeant—

SERJEANT.

Troop I tell you, and never again enter these walls—you have libelled my wife, and I will see you no more.

Sir LUKE.

Was there ever such a—

SERJEANT.

March! and as to my daughter, I would as soon marry her to a forma pauperis client.

[Exit Sir Luke.

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

Do you consider, Mr. Circuit, where you are pushing the fellow?—That chamber is Charlot's.

EnterSirLuke, Woodford, Charlot,andJack.

Sir LUKE.

Heyday! who the deuce have we here?—Pray walk in, my good folks—your servant Miss Charlot; your servant Mr. What-d'ye-call-um.—Mr. Serjeant, you need not trouble yourself to cater for Miss; your family you see can provide for themselves.

SERJEANT.

Heyday! What the deuce is all this! Who are you Sir, and how came you here? [ToWoodford.]

JACK.

It was I, father, that brought him.

SERJEANT.

How, sirrah!

Sir LUKE.

Well said my young limb of the law.

JACK.

Come, let us have none o'your—tho' I brought Mr. Woodford, you could not persuade me to do the same office for you—father, never stir if he did not make me the proffer, if I would let him into the house the night you was at Kingston, of a new pair of silk stockings, and to learn me a minuet.

Sir LUKE.

Me! I should never have got you to turn out your toes.

JACK.

Ay, and moreover you made me push out my chest, and do so with my fingers, as if I was taking two pinches of snuff.

Sir LUKE.

You see, Mr. Serjeant, what a fondness, I have for every twig of your family.

SERJEANT.

I shall thankyouhereafter—but from you, Charlot, I expected other guess—

CHARLOT.

When, Sir, you hear this whole matter explain'd, you will acquit I am sure.

WOODFORD.

Indeed, Sir,Iam wholly to blame; my being here was as much a surprize upon Miss Charlot as—

SERJEANT.

But now you are here, pray what's your business?

JACK.

O! father, I can acquaint you with that—he wanted me to bring a love letter to Charlot, so I told him he might bring it himself, for that I would not do any such thing for never so much, for fear of offending of you.

SERJEANT.

You mended the matter indeed—but after all, who, and what are you?

JACK.

It's the young gentleman that lives over our heads, to whom Mr. Fairplay is guardian.

SERJEANT.

Who, Woodford?

JACK.

The same.

SERJEANT.

And are you, young man in a situation to think of a wife?

WOODFORD.

I am flattered, Sir, that asjusticeis with me, I shall one day have no contemptible fortune to throw at her feet.

SERJEANT.

Justiceis! What signifies justice?—Is thelawwith you, you fool?

WOODFORD.

With your help, Sir, I should hope for theirunion, upon this occasion at least.

SERJEANT.

Well, Sir, I shall re-consider your papers, and, if there are probable grounds, I may be induc'd to hear your proposals.

WOODFORD.

Nay then, Sir, the recovering my paternal possessions makes me anxious indeed.—Could I hope that the young lady's good wish would attend me?

CHARLOT.

I have a father, and can have no will of my own.

Sir LUKE.

So then it seems poor Pil Garlick here is discarded at once.

SERJEANT.

Why, could you have the impudence, after what has happen'd, to hope that——

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

He has given wonderful proofs of his modesty.

Sir LUKE.

Be quiet, Mrs. Circuit.—Come, good folks, I will set all matters to rights in a minute; and first, Mr. Serjeant, it becomes me to tell you, that I never intended to marry your daughter.

SERJEANT.

How! never!

Sir LUKE.

Never. She is a fine girl I allow; but would it now, Mr. Serjeant, have been honest in me, to have robb'd the whole sex of my person, and confin'd my favors to her?

SERJEANT.

How!

Sir LUKE.

No! I was struck with the immorality of the thing; and therefore to make it impossible that you should ever give me your daughter, I invented the story I told you concerning Mrs. Circuit and me.

SERJEANT.

How!

Sir LUKE.

Truth, upon my honour.—Your wife there will tell you the whole was a lye.

SERJEANT.

Nay, then indeed.—But with what face can I look up to my dear? I have injur'd her beyond the hopes of forgiveness.—Wou'd you, lovee, but pass an act of oblivion—

Sir LUKE.

See me here prostrate to implore your clemency in behalf of my friend.

Mrs. CIRCUIT.

Of that I can't determine directly.—But as you seem to have some sense of your guilt, I shall grant you a reprieve for the present, which contrition and amendment may, perhaps, in time swell into a pardon.

But if again offending you are caught,SERJEANT.Then let me suffer, dearee, as I ought.FINIS.

FINIS.

Contemporary spelling has been retained, even where inconsistent, although a very few obvious typographical errors have been corrected (e.g. identity replaced idenity). Missing punctuation has been added.

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