University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Room in Hero's Town House.
Enter Sir William and Emily.
Sir Wil.
At sea again! Blown ever from the port
We'd have her harbour in, by her wild fancies,
And far from land as ever! 'Twas my hope
This suitor would have proved sure anchorage.

Emily.
And so 'twas mine. She'll ne'er be held by suitor,
Long as there bows another—save it be
By a miracle. I say it, though I love her!

Sir Wil.
And yet that lord hath held her.

Emily.
So he hath,
By dint of mere audacity—some art,
He owns, makes other suitors quail, and she,
For vanity, hath still affected him,
As proud to have a vassal in a man
To whom his fellows bow.

Sir Wil.
I am glad so slight
His power. I know him for a profligate,
With broken coffers, to replenish which
He merely follows her.

Emily.
His practice 'twas
Which to this issue led—On some account
I know not—nay, nor guess—he durst not treat
Sir Valentine with overbearing mien,
So took advantage of fair Hero's weakness,
To play upon't, expose, and with disgust
Surfeit the man he fear'd.

Sir Wil.
And he succeeded?

Emily.
Ay, to the full, sir, as I have possess'd you.

Sir Wil.
I am sorry for it. He had begun to love her,
And would have made to her a worthy husband;
Safe guardian to her wealth; and one to make
A proud wife of a higher dame than she!
It crossly hath fallen out. But she is piqued,
You say at his desertion?

Emily.
Much, sir!—Much!
She wept, as I acquainted you.

Sir Wil.
You did,
And matter see I there. Unfeignéd tears—
And such were hers—from deep-laid fountains flow,
Abiding in the heart! The argument
Which draws them thence, as deep must even go.
A curling lip I had not heeded—that
Were simple scorn—but they who weep, for scorn,
Must weep for something more. Sir Valentine
Hath not his peer in England! Trust me, girl,
She's not so blind with folly, as not to see
His paramount desert!—Where is she?

Emily.
Lock'd
In her chamber with her milliner,—so says
Her maid. These three hours have I craved admission,
But all in vain. She has not yet press'd pillow
Sufficient to repair her spirits from
The waste of yesternight.

Sir Wil.
A wayward girl!
New dresses, pleasures, lovers—all things new,
Except herself. Would that would change, as well!
Some mode she studies with her minister
Of novelty, to flog all former folly.
[Knocking.
What sober knock is that?—Such seldom calls
At her fantastic door. Who knocks?

Enter Servant.
Servant.
A man,
Of formal habit and consorting speech,
Usher to one most young and fair; a maid
Who seems to know no use for beauty, but
To mortify it with ungainly guise.
She asks to see the mistress of the house.

Sir Wil.
Admit her!—On what errand can she come?
[Servant goes out, and returns, showing in Clever, followed by Hero, both disguised as Quakers.
Who art thou?

Clever.
Man unto Ruth Mapleson,
Who with the woman of the house would speak.

Sir Wil.
The woman of the house!

Emily.
Ruth Mapleson!

Hero.
Friend, am I right? This house of vanity,
Is't the abode of that unfortunate
They call the City Maid? who, to the use
Of one, perverts what Heaven lavishly
Committed to her, for the good of many!
Is this her house?—and if it is, I pray you
Acquaint her that a sister, pitying
Her hapless state of blindness, ignorance,
Omission and offence, hath come to her
To clear her vision, to inform her mind,
To teach her occupation, and from evil
To turn her steps aside.—Umph!

Clever.
Umph!

Sir Wil.
My breath
Is almost stopp'd with wonder!

Emily.
So is mine.
What can it mean?

Sir Wil.
Some poor fanatic 'tis,
Whose zeal hath warp'd her reason.

Hero.
Sinful man,
Thus is it with the children of the flesh!
What argues wisdom they misconstrue madness!
Though through perverseness rather than conviction.
Tremble!—Look down!—Abase thee to the dust!
Shouldst thou not blush at thy grey hairs, the vouchers
For thriftless years, for profitless experience!
'Tis winter with thee—harvest-time is past—
What hast thou garner'd? Chaff instead of grain!
What doest thou with gauds like these, thy trappings?
Why standest thou beneath this roof of pride,
That shouldst be thinking of the charnel-house
And the attire of its inhabitant?
I know thee uncle to that maid of lightness,
That mistress of this house of emptiness,
And whom I come to chasten and reform!
Umph!

Clever.
Umph!

Emily.
Dear sir! who is't? I grow uneasy!
With sense of the unearthly, and I feel
As though an apparition stood before me,
And wish she were away!

Sir Wil.
And so do I!

Hero.
[To Emily.]
And thou, poor flesh and blood!—illusion!—heirdom
O' the worm! that think'st thyself all soundness, yet
Art all corruption! Why abidest thou in
The lazar-house? Depart from it! Pull off
Its dress, and don the clean and wholesome guise
Of plainness and humility—Umph!

Clever.
Umph!

Sir Wil.
This bold intrusion and address—

Hero.
Peace, Satan!
And yet, perhaps I wrong you! Privily
You may condemn proud Hero's fantasies?

Sir Wil.
I do!

Emily.
And so do I!

Hero.
O do you so?
Then are ye not, as I did reckon you,
O' the children of the Prince of Darkness?

Sir Wil. and Emily.
No!

Hero.
You see that she is miserably vain?

Emily.
We else were blind.

Sir Wil.
Stone blind!

Hero.
Capricious?

Emily.
Yes! As many moods as there's hours in the day.

Sir Wil.
Say minutes, rather!

Hero.
Fond of pleasure?

Emily.
'Tis her constant occupation.

Sir Wil.
'Tis her meat
And drink; rest, business, studies, prayers, and sleep!

Hero.
She hath no constancy in aught—
Lovers especially?

Emily.
She changes them
Continually.

Sir Wil.
As she does her dresses
Show her a new one, she casts off the last,
How new soe'er put on!

Hero.
I pity her.

Emily.
She scarce deserves it.

Sir Wil.
Pity is too good
For such a piece of waywardness, perverseness,
Pride, folly, fantasy and emptiness!

Hero.
So then we are all of the same mind?

Emily.
Exactly.

Sir Wil.
Not a pin's point difference!

Hero.
You would approve that I reform her then?

Emily.
Reform her! can you do so, do it!

Sir Wil.
Do!
Do! Make her anything but what she is.

Emily.
Change cannot fail to better her.

Sir Wil.
No change
Can make her worse!—Reform her, pray!

Hero.
I will.

Sir Wil. and Emily.
When?

Hero.
When you take her for another thing
And find her just the same!—O, uncle, fie!
Fie, Emily! Is this your loyalty?

Sir Wil.
What means this metamorphosis?

Hero.
Defence
Of my sex's rights—assertion of my own!
Instruction to that master-work, call'd man!
Protest and re-establishment of due
Prerogative! reduction of rebellion,
Transform'd from rearéd crest to bended knee!
Pains, penalties, bonds, confiscations, deaths,
To follow thereupon!

Sir Wil.
Why, niece, what wind
Has brought this change of weather?

Hero.
Are you a man?

Sir Wil.
I trust I am!

Hero.
Then if you are, you know
The privileges of a single woman.
We have few, we thank you, when we change the state
Of single blessedness, most rightly dubb'd—
Is't not a single woman's right to rule?

Sir Wil.
It is.

Hero.
To have her will her law?

Sir Wil.
It is.

Hero.
To have as many tastes, moods, fits, as she likes?

Sir Wil.
It is.

Hero.
To come, to go, to smile, to frown,
To please, to pain, to love, to hate, do aught
Without dispute?

Sir Wil.
It is.

Hero.
Is't not enough,
You have leave to look upon her—listen to her—
Stand in her presence—wait upon her? Must
Her 'haviour, speech, be what you like, or what
It likes her sovereign self that they should be?

Sir Wil.
What likes her sovereign self!

Hero.
You are a man!
Would all your sex were like you! Who are not,
Are not for me, believe me! Look you, uncle!
I'll make the saucy traitor feel my power,
Or I will break my heart! He thinks me fair—
I thank him! Well-proportion'd—very much
Beholden to him! Dignified and graceful—
A man of shrewd perception! very!—send him
On expedition of discovery!

Sir Wil.
Whom mean you, Hero?

Hero.
Whom?—Sir Valentine!
He has made his bow! Indeed, a gracious one—
A stately, courtly, condescending one!
Ne'er may I curtsy, if he bow not lower!
I'll bring him to his knees as a spoil'd child
With uplift hands that asketh pardon; then
Command him up, and never see me more!

Sir Wil.
Why, how hath this befallen?

Hero.
I did not dance
To please him! No, sir! He is a connoisseur
In dancing!—hath a notion of his own
Of a step! In carriage, attitude, has taste,
Dainty as palate of an epicure,
Which, if you hit not to a hair, disgust
Takes the place of keenest zest! He is sick of me!
My feet the frolic measure may indulge in,
But not my heart—mine eye, my cheek, my lip,
Must not be cognizant of what I do—
As wood and marble could be brought to dance,
And look like wood and marble! I shall teach him
Another style! Come! I have found you out;
Will you compound for your sedition,
And help me? Come! How say you, little traitress?

Emily.
Content.

Hero.
And you, most reverend rebellion?

Sir Wil.
Command me aught, that I can do in reason.

Hero.
Can do in reason! In what reason? There
Are fifty kinds of reason! There's a fool's reason,
And a wise man's reason, and a knave's reason, and
An honest man's reason, and an infant's reason,
And reason of a grandfather—but there's
A reason 'bove them all, and that alone
Can stand me now in stead—a woman's reason!
Wilt thou be subject unto me in that?

Sir Wil.
I will.
But say where practised you, to act so well
The solemn friend?

Hero.
At school.

Sir Wil.
At school!

Hero.
I learn'd it from one I knew and loved there—a sweet girl
Half, by the sect that uses it, brought up.
But she of thought and will, therewith consorting
The mistress likewise was, most veritable!
Her name was Helen Mowbray—By the arts
Of that same lord to whom I owe the coil
I would unwind me from, and whom, through whim,
Not liking, I have countenanced, 'tis said
She fell—but not in my belief. How is this?
I am growing serious! You will help me?

Sir Wil.
Yes.

Hero.
That's my good uncle! That's a darling uncle!
There ne'er was kinder, nor more sensible!
A good, dear, wise, obedient, docile uncle!
Give me a kiss! Hence, Master Clever! Do
What I directed you—Sir Valentine
Be he at home;—invite him where I advised you—
To the house at Greenwich.

[Clever goes out.
Sir Wil.
What dost thou intend?

Hero.
Order the carriage—no; it must be one
They lend for hire:—and come along with me—
I'll tell you on the way. Emily!—Uncle!
Look you! [Throws her glove down.]
I'll have him, as my glove, that there,
At my feet to lie, till I please to pick him up!
And I will pick him up—but in a way!
There!—give it me again—O, you dear uncle,
To help my plot!—do what I wish!—You ought
To be an uncle! There's another kiss!
And if I do not make him kiss the rod,
I'm ne'er a niece deserving such an uncle!
Come! come!—I did not dance to please him! Come.

[They go out.