Read the book: «The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children», page 15

SCENE II

In the back scene a flock of sheep are seen penned. In front, a party of country lads and lasses, gaily dressed, as in sheep-shearing time, with ribands and garlands of flowers, etc., are dancing and singing

Enter Patty, dressed as the Queen of the Festival, with a lamb in her arms. The dancers break off when she comes in, and direct their attention towards her

1st Peasant. Oh, here comes Patty! Here comes the Queen o' the day. What has kept you from us so long, Patty?

2nd Peasant. 'Please your Majesty,' you should say.

Patty. This poor little lamb of mine was what kept me so long. It strayed away from the rest; and I should have lost him, so I should, for ever, if it had not been for a good young gentleman. Yonder he is, talking to Farmer Hearty. That's the young gentleman who pulled my lamb out of the ditch for me, into which he had fallen – pretty creature!

1st Peasant. Pretty creature – or, your Majesty, whichever you choose to be called – come and dance with them, and I'll carry your lamb.

(Exeunt, singing and dancing.)

Enter Farmer Hearty and Talbot

Farmer. Why, young gentleman, I'm glad I happened to light upon you here, and so to hinder you from going farther astray, and set your heart at ease like.

Talb. Thanks, good farmer, you have set my heart at ease, indeed. But the truth is, they did frighten me confoundedly – more fool I.

Farm. No fool at all, to my notion. I should, at your age, ay, or at my age, just the self-same way have been frightened myself, if so be that mention had been made to me, that way, of my own mother's having broke her leg or so. And greater, by a great deal, the shame for them that frighted you, than for you to be frighted. How young gentlemen, now, can bring themselves for to tell such lies, is to me, now, a matter of amazement, like, that I can't noways get over.

Talb. Oh, farmer, such lies are very witty, though you and I don't just now like the wit of them. This is fun, this is quizzing; but you don't know what we young gentlemen mean by quizzing.

Farm. Ay, but I do though, to my cost, ever since last year. Look you, now, at yon fine field of wheat. Well, it was just as fine, and finer, last year, till a young Eton jackanapes —

Talb. Take care what you say, farmer; for I am a young Eton jackanapes.

Farm. No; but you be not the young Eton jackanapes that I'm a-thinking on. I tell you it was this time last year, man; he was a-horseback, I tell ye, mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out o' hunting, like.

Talb. I tell you it was this time last year, man, that I was mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting.

Farm. Zooks! would you argufy a man out of his wits? You won't go for to tell me that you are that impertinent little jackanapes!

Talb. No! no! I'll not tell you that I am an impertinent little jackanapes!

Farm. (wiping his forehead). Well, don't then, for I can't believe it; and you put me out. Where was I?

Talb. Mounted upon a fine bay hunter.

Farm. Ay, so he was. 'Here, you,' says he, meaning me – 'open this gate for me.' Now, if he had but a-spoke me fair, I would not have gainsaid him; but he falls to swearing, so I bid him open the gate for himself. 'There's a bull behind you, farmer,' says he. I turns. 'Quizzed him!' cries my jackanapes, and off he gallops him, through the very thick of my corn; but he got a fall, leaping the ditch out yonder, which pacified me, like, at the minute. So I goes up to see whether he was killed; but he was not a whit the worse for his tumble. So I should ha' fell into a passion with him then, to be sure, about my corn; but his horse had got such a terrible sprain, I couldn't say anything to him; for I was a-pitying the poor animal. As fine a hunter as ever you saw! I am sartain sure he could never come to good after.

Talb. (aside). I do think, from the description, that this was Wheeler; and I have paid for the horse which he spoiled! (Aloud.) Should you know either the man or the horse again, if you were to see them?

Farm. Ay, that I should, to my dying day.

Talb. Will you come with me, then, and you'll do me some guineas' worth of service?

Farm. Ay, that I will, with a deal of pleasure; for you be a civil-spoken young gentleman; and, besides, I don't think the worse on you for being frighted a little about your mother; being what I might ha' been, at your age, myself; for I had a mother myself once. So lead on, master.

(Exeunt.)

ACT THE THIRD

SCENE I

The Garden of the 'Windmill Inn' at Salt Hill

Miss Bursal, Mrs. Newington, Sally the Chambermaid

(Miss Bursal, in a fainting state, is sitting on a garden stool, and leaning her head against the Landlady. Sally is holding a glass of water and a smelling bottle.)

Miss Bursal. Where am I? Where am I?

Landlady. At the 'Windmill,' at Salt Hill, young lady; and ill or well, you can't be better.

Sally. Do you find yourself better since coming into the air, miss?

Miss B. Better! Oh, I shall never be better!

(Leans her head on hand, and rocks herself backwards and forwards.)

Landlady. My dear young lady, don't take on so. (Aside.) Now would I give something to know what it was my Lady Piercefield said to the father, and what the father said to this one, and what's the matter at the bottom of affairs. Sally, did you hear anything at the doors?

Sally (aside). No, indeed, ma'am; I never be's at the doors.

Landlady (aside). Simpleton! (Aloud.) But, my dear Miss Bursal, if I may be so bold – if you'd only disembosom your mind of what's on it —

Miss B. Disembosom my mind! Nonsense! I've nothing on my mind. Pray leave me, madam.

Landlady (aside). Madam, indeed! madam, forsooth! Oh, I'll make her pay for that! That madam shall go down in the bill as sure as my name's Newington. (In a higher tone.) Well, I wish you better, ma'am. I suppose I'd best send your own servant?

Miss B. (sullenly). Yes, I suppose so. (To Sally.) You need not wait, child, nor look so curious.

Sally. Cur'ous! Indeed, miss, if I look a little cur'ous, or so (looking at her dress), 'tis only because I was frighted to see you take on, which made me forget my clean apron when I came out; and this apron —

Miss B. Hush! hush! child. Don't tell me about clean aprons, nor run on with your vulgar talk. Is there ever a seat one can set on in that harbour yonder?

Sally. O dear 'art, yes, miss; 'tis the pleasantest harbour on hearth. Be pleased to lean on my harm, and you'll soon be there.

Miss B. (going). Then tell my woman she need not come to me, and let nobody interude on me – do you 'ear? (Aside.) Oh, what will become of me? and the Talbots will soon know it! And the ponies, and the curricle, and the vis-à-vis– what will become of them? and how shall I make my appearance at the Montem, or any ware else?

SCENE II

Lord John – Wheeler – Bursal

Wheeler. Well, but, my lord – Well, but, Bursal – though my Lady Piercefield – though Miss Bursal is come to Salt Hill, you won't leave us all at sixes and sevens. What can we do without you?

Lord J. You can do very well without me.

Bursal. You can do very well without me.

Wheel. (to Burs.). Impossible! – impossible! You know Mr. Finsbury will be here just now, with the dresses; and we have to try them on.

Burs. And to pay for them.

Wheel. And to settle about the procession. And then, my lord, the election is to come on this evening. You won't go till that's over, as your lordship has promised me your lordship's vote and interest.

Lord J. My vote I promised you, Mr. Wheeler; but I said not a syllable about my interest. My friends, perhaps, have not been offended, though I have, by Mr. Talbot. I shall leave them to their own inclinations.

Burs. (whistling). Wheugh! wheugh! wheugh! Wheeler, the principal's nothing without the interest.

Wheel. Oh, the interest will go along with the principal, of course; for I'm persuaded, if my lord leaves his friends to their inclinations, it will be the inclination of my lord's friends to vote as he does, if he says nothing to them to the contrary.

Lord J. I told you, Mr. Wheeler, that I should leave them to themselves.

Burs. (still whistling). Well, I'll do my best to make that father of mine send me off to Oxford. I'm sure I'm fit to go – along with Wheeler. Why, you'd best be my tutor, Wheeler! – a devilish good thought.

Wheel. An excellent thought.

Burs. And a cursed fine dust we should kick up at Oxford, with your Montem money and all! – Money's the go after all. I wish it was come to my making you my last bow, 'ye distant spires, ye antic towers!'

Wheel. (aside to Lord J.). Ye antic towers! – fit for Oxford, my lord!

Lord J. Antique towers, I suppose Mr. Bursal means.

Burs. Antique, to be sure! – I said antique, did not I, Wheeler?

Wheel. Oh yes.

Lord J. (aside). What a mean animal is this!

Enter Rory O'Ryan

Rory. Why, now, what's become of Talbot, I want to know? There he is not to be found anywhere in the wide world; and there's a hullabaloo amongst his friends for him.

(Wheeler and Bursal wink at one another.)

Wheel. We know nothing of him.

Lord J. I have not the honour, sir, to be one of Mr. Talbot's friends. It is his own fault, and I am sorry for it.

Rory. 'Faith, so am I, especially as it is mine – fault I mean; and especially as the election is just going to come on.

Enter a party of boys, who cry, Finsbury's come! – Finsbury's come with the dresses!

Wheel. Finsbury's come? Oh, let us see the dresses, and let us try 'em on to-night.

Burs. (pushing the crowd). On with ye – on with ye, there! – Let's try 'em on! – Try 'em on – I'm to be colonel.

1st Boy. And I lieutenant.

2nd Boy. And I ensign.

3rd Boy. And I college salt-bearer.

4th Boy. And I oppidan.

5th Boy. Oh, what a pity I'm in mourning.

(Several speak at once.) And we are servitors. We are to be the eight servitors.

Wheel. And I am to be your Captain, I hope. Come on, my Colonel (to Bursal). My lord, you are coming?

Rory. By-and-by – I've a word in his ear, by your lave and his.

Burs. Why, what the devil stops the way, there? – Push on – on with them.

6th Boy. I'm marshal.

Burs. On with you – on with you – who cares what you are?

Wheel. (to Bursal, aside). You'll pay Finsbury for me, you rich Jew? (To Lord John.) Your lordship will remember your lordship's promise?

Lord J. I do not usually forget my promises, sir; and therefore need not to be reminded of them.

Wheel. I beg pardon – I beg ten thousand pardons, my lord.

Burs. (taking him by the arm). Come on, man, and don't stand begging pardon there, or I'll leave you.

Wheel. (to Burs.). I beg pardon, Bursal – I beg pardon, ten thousand times.

(Exeunt.)

Manent Lord John and Rory O'Ryan

Rory. Wheugh! – Now put the case. If I was going to be hanged, for the life of me I couldn't be after begging so many pardons for nothing at all. But many men, many minds – (Hums.) True game to the last! No Wheeler for me. Oh, murder! I forgot, I was nigh letting the cat out o' the bag again.

Lord J. You had something to say to me, sir? I wait till your recollection returns.

Rory. 'Faith, and that's very kind of you; and if you had always done so, you would never have been offended with me, my lord.

Lord J. You are mistaken, Mr. O'Ryan, if you think that you did or could offend me.

Rory. Mistaken was I, then, sure enough; but we are all liable to mistakes, and should forget and forgive one another; that's the way to go through.

Lord J. You will go through the world your own way, Mr. O'Ryan, and allow me to go through it my way.

Rory. Very fair – fair enough – then we shan't cross. But now, to come to the point. I don't like to be making disagreeable retrospects, if I could any way avoid it; nor to be going about the bush, especially at this time o' day; when, as Mr. Finsbury's come, we've not so much time to lose as we had. Is there any truth, then, my lord, in the report that is going about this hour past, that you have gone in a huff and given your promise there to that sneaking Wheeler to vote for him now?

Lord J. In answer to your question, sir, I am to inform you that I have promised Mr. Wheeler to vote for him.

Rory. In a huff? – Ay, now, there it is! – Well, when a man's mad, to be sure, he's mad – and that's all that can be said about it. And I know, if I had been mad myself, I might have done a foolish thing as well as another. But now, my lord, that you are not mad —

Lord J. I protest, sir, I cannot understand you. In one word, sir, I'm neither mad nor a fool! – Your most obedient (going, angrily).

Rory (holding him). Take care, now; you are going mad with me again. But phoo! I like you the better for being mad. I'm very often mad myself, and I would not give a potato for one that had never been mad in his life.

Lord J. (aside). He'll not be quiet till he makes me knock him down.

Rory. Agh! agh! agh! – I begin to guess whereabouts I am at last. Mad, in your country, I take it, means fit for Bedlam; but with us in Ireland, now, 'tis no such thing; it means nothing in life but the being in a passion. Well, one comfort is, my lord, as you're a bit of a scholar, we have the Latin proverb in our favour – 'Ira furor brevis est' (Anger is short madness). The shorter the better, I think. So, my lord, to put an end to whatever of the kind you may have felt against poor Talbot, I'll assure you he's as innocent o' that unfortunate song as the babe unborn.

Lord J. It is rather late for Mr. Talbot to make apologies to me.

Rory. He make apologies! Not he, 'faith; he'd send me to Coventry, or maybe to a worse place, did he but know I was condescending to make this bit of explanation, unknown to him. But, upon my conscience, I've a regard for you both, and don't like to see you go together by the ears. Now, look you, my lord. By this book, and all the books that were ever shut and opened, he never saw or heard of that unlucky song of mine till I came out with it this morning.

Lord J. But you told me this morning that it was he who wrote it.

Rory. For that I take shame to myself, as it turned out; but it was only a white lie to sarve a friend, and make him cut a dash with a new song at election time. But I've done for ever with white lies.

Lord J. (walking about as if agitated). I wish you had never begun with them, Mr. O'Ryan. This may be a good joke to you, but it is none to me or Talbot. So Talbot never wrote a word of the song?

Rory. Not a word or syllable, good or bad.

Lord J. And I have given my promise to vote against him. He'll lose his election.

Rory. Not if you'll give me leave to speak to your friends in your name.

Lord J. I have promised to leave them to themselves; and Wheeler, I am sure, has engaged them by this time.

Rory. Bless my body! I'll not stay prating here then.

(Exit Rory.)

Lord J. (follows). But what can have become of Talbot? I have been too hasty for once in my life. Well, I shall suffer for it more than anybody else; for I love Talbot, since he did not make the song, of which I hate to think.

(Exit.)

SCENE III

A large hall in Eton College – A staircase at the end – Eton lads, dressed in their Montem Dresses, in the Scene – In front, Wheeler (dressed as Captain), Bursal, and Finsbury

Fins. I give you infinite credit, Mr. Wheeler, for this dress.

Burs. Infinite credit! Why, he'll have no objection to that – hey, Wheeler? But I thought Finsbury knew you too well to give you credit for anything.

Fins. You are pleased to be pleasant, sir. Mr. Wheeler knows, in that sense of the word, it is out of my power to give him credit, and I'm sure he would not ask it.

Wheel. (aside). O, Bursal, pay him, and I'll pay you to-morrow.

Burs. Now, if you weren't to be captain after all, Wheeler, what a pretty figure you'd cut. Ha! ha! ha! – Hey?

Wheel. Oh, I am as sure of being captain as of being alive. (Aside.) Do pay for me, now, there's a good, dear fellow, before they (looking back) come up.

Burs. (aside). I love to make him lick the dust. (Aloud.) Hollo! here's Finsbury waiting to be paid, lads. (To the lads who are in the back scene.) Who has paid, and who has not paid? I say.

(The lads come forward, and several exclaim at once,) I've paid! I've paid!

Enter Lord John and Rory O'Ryan

Rory. Oh, King of Fashion, how fine we are! Why, now, to look at ye all one might fancy one's self at the playhouse at once, or at a fancy ball in dear little Dublin. Come, strike up a dance.

Burs. Pshaw! Wherever you come, Rory O'Ryan, no one else can be heard. Who has paid, and who has not paid? I say.

Several boys exclaim, We've all paid.

1st Boy. I've not paid, but here's my money.

Several Boys. We have not paid, but here's our money.

6th Boy. Order there, I am marshal. All that have paid march off to the staircase, and take your seats there, one by one. March!

(As they march by, one by one, so as to display their dresses, Mr. Finsbury bows, and says,)

A thousand thanks, gentlemen. Thank you, gentlemen. Thanks, gentlemen. The finest sight ever I saw out of Lon'on.

Rory, as each lad passes, catches his arm, Are you a Talbotite, or a Wheelerite? To each who answers 'A Wheelerite,' Rory replies, 'Phoo! dance off, then. Go to the devil and shake yourself.'¹¹ Each who answers 'A Talbotite,' Rory shakes by the hand violently, singing,

Talbot, oh, Talbot's the dog for Rory

When they have almost all passed, Lord John says, But where can Mr. Talbot be all this time?

Burs. Who knows? Who cares?

Wheel. A pretty electioneerer! (Aside to Bursal.) Finsbury's waiting to be paid.

Lord J. You don't wait for me, Mr. Finsbury. You know, I have settled with you.

Fins. Yes, my lord – yes. Many thanks; and I have left your lordship's dress here, and everybody's dress, I believe, as bespoke.

Burs. Here, Finsbury, is the money for Wheeler, who, between you and me, is as poor as a rat.

Wheeler (affecting to laugh). Well, I hope I shall be as rich as a Jew to-morrow.

(Bursal counts money, in an ostentatious manner, into Finsbury's hand.)

Fins. A thousand thanks for all favours.

Rory. You will be kind enough to lave Mr. Talbot's dress with me, Mr. Finsbury, for I'm a friend.

Fins. Indubitably, sir; but the misfortune is – he! he! he! – Mr. Talbot, sir, has bespoke no dress. Your servant, gentlemen.

(Exit Finsbury.)

Burs. So your friend Mr. Talbot could not afford to bespeak a dress – (Bursal and Wheeler laugh insolently). How comes that, I wonder?

Lord J. If I'm not mistaken, here comes Talbot to answer for himself.

Rory. But who, in the name of St. Patrick, has he along with him?

Enter Talbot and Landlord

Talb. Come in along with us, Farmer Hearty – come in.

(Whilst the Farmer comes in, the boys who were sitting on the stairs rise and exclaim,)

Whom have we here? What now? Come down, lads; here's more fun.

Rory. What's here, Talbot?

Talb. An honest farmer and a good-natured landlord, who would come here along with me to speak —

Farm. (interrupting). To speak the truth – (strikes his stick on the ground).

Landlord (unbuttoning his waistcoat). But I am so hot – so short-winded, that (panting and puffing) – that for the soul and body of me, I cannot say what I have got for to say.

Rory. 'Faith, now, the more short-winded a story, the better, to my fancy.

Burs. Wheeler, what's the matter, man? you look as if your under jaw was broke.

Farm. The matter is, young gentlemen, that there was once upon a time a fine bay hunter.

Wheel. (squeezing up to Talbot, aside). Don't expose me, don't let him tell. (To the Farmer.) I'll pay for the corn I spoiled. (To the Landlord.) I'll pay for the horse.

Farm. I does not want to be paid for my corn. The short of it is, young gentlemen, this 'un here, in the fine thing-em-bobs (pointing to Wheeler), is a shabby fellow; he went and spoiled Master Newington's best hunter.

Land. (panting). Ruinationed him! ruinationed him!

Rory. But was that all the shabbiness? Now I might, or any of us might, have had such an accident as that. I suppose he paid the gentleman for the horse, or will do so, in good time.

Land. (holding his sides). Oh, that I had but a little breath in this body o' mine to speak all – speak on, Farmer.

Farm. (striking his stick on the floor). Oons, sir, when a man's put out, he can't go on with his story.

Omnes. Be quiet, Rory – hush!

(Rory puts his finger on his lips.)

Farm. Why, sir, I was a-going to tell you the shabbiness – why, sir, he did not pay the landlord, here, for the horse; but he goes and says to the landlord, here – 'Mr. Talbot had your horse on the self-same day; 'twas he did the damage; 'tis from he you must get your money.' So Mr. Talbot, here, who is another sort of a gentleman (though he has not so fine a coat), would not see a man at a loss, that could not afford it; and not knowing which of 'em it was that spoiled the horse, goes, when he finds the other would not pay a farthing, and pays all.

Rory (rubbing his hands). There's Talbot for ye. And now, gentlemen (to Wheeler and Bursal), you guess the rason, as I do, I suppose, why he bespoke no dress; he had not money enough to be fine – and honest, too. You are very fine, Mr. Wheeler, to do you justice.

Lord J. Pray, Mr. O'Ryan, let the farmer go on; he has more to say. How did you find out, pray, my good friend, that it was not Talbot who spoiled the horse? Speak loud enough to be heard by everybody.

Farm. Ay, that I will – I say (very loudly) I say I saw him there (pointing to Wheeler) take the jump which strained the horse; and I'm ready to swear to it. Yet he let another pay; there's the shabbiness.

(A general groan from all the lads. 'Oh, shabby Wheeler, shabby! I'll not vote for shabby Wheeler!')

Lord J. (aside). Alas! I must vote for him.

Rory sings

 
True game to the last; no Wheeler for me;
Talbot, oh, Talbot's the dog for me.
 

(Several voices join the chorus.)

Burs. Wheeler, if you are not chosen Captain, you must see and pay me for the dress.

Wheel. I am as poor as a rat.

Rory. Oh yes! oh yes! hear ye! hear ye, all manner of men – the election is now going to begin forthwith in the big field, and Rory O'Ryan holds the poll for Talbot. Talbot for ever! – huzza!

(Exit Rory followed by the Boys, who exclaim, Talbot for ever! – huzza! The Landlord and Farmer join them.)

Lord J. Talbot, I am glad you are what I always thought you – I'm glad you did not write that odious song. I would not lose such a friend for all the songs in the world. Forgive me for my hastiness this morning. I've punished myself – I've promised to vote for Wheeler.

Talb. Oh, no matter whom you vote for, my lord, if you are still my friend, and if you know me to be yours.

(They shake hands.)

Lord J. I must not say, 'Huzza for Talbot!'

(Exeunt.)