 | A Hint to Husbands |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE I.
—A Library. Lord Transit is discovered. He rises and advances.LORD TRANSIT.
Sated with guilty pleasures, which had sapp'd
My health, my fortune, and my peace of mind,
I took an humble unspoilt girl to wife;
And here I hop'd with her, and with my books,
Which taste and education had endear'd,
To lead a calm, sequester'd, virtuous life;
Her mind was ductile, and her genius seiz'd
With apt advantage what my lessons taught.
The task was charming: but I soon perceiv'd
It was the charm of novelty; each day
Took something from it, every month impair'd,
A year extinguish'd it; and now the world
Spreads all its gaudy colours in my view,
Whilst virtue, like a shadow, fades away.
2
LADY TRANSIT.
May I come in? No answer—That means yes,
Does it not? Still no answer—That's consent
Seal'd with a double silence—Ah, my lord,
My dear Lord Transit, now your humble scholar
Is become gay and happy, you are silent,
Grave, and reserv'd. That is not as it shou'd be.
LORD TRANSIT.
Come, come, no trifling. You and I have pass'd
Some hours of late, which make it much too clear
That these fond levities are out of place.
LADY TRANSIT.
Oh, if you think you've set me up too high,
Pray take me down again—down to the ground—
I hope that reverence is profound enough.
[Curtsies very low.
LORD TRANSIT.
You're spoilt, you're spoilt.—These mockeries disgust;
They don't become you.
LADY TRANSIT.
Nor do those cross looks,
And proud rebuffs, my lord, sit well on you,
Or any one that has a manly feeling
For a defenceless, unoffending woman.
LORD TRANSIT.
Go, go, I've done with you. I dreamt of happiness:
I have it not—I am a wretched man.
3
You make yourself a wretched man, my lord.
LORD TRANSIT.
Yes, I am married—So far, it is true,
I am a wretched man of my own making.
And yet, take notice, I will own to faults;
Aye, faults by thousands, undomestic humours,
Wandering desires—
LADY TRANSIT.
Do I reproach you with them?
LORD TRANSIT.
No, no, not much; but tacitly enough
To make me urge this question on myself—
Why did I marry you? Can you resolve it?
LADY TRANSIT.
Nay, I can't tell,—unless it was in kindness,
To love me, to inform me of your pleasure,
And teach me how to please you.
LORD TRANSIT.
Either I
Have fail'd to teach, or you to learn, that art.
No more of this! You answer like a child.
LADY TRANSIT.
When you, my lord, forget to be a man,
'Tis well that I, with all a woman's feelings,
Can answer like a child. I have told you
What shou'd have been the motives for your marriage:
Now, if you're not asham'd of the confession,
You may inform me what those motives were.
4
You're lively, madam, and retort upon me;
And when the creature, I have rais'd, does that,
This is my only answer—We must part—
You must go to your father.
LADY TRANSIT.
Must, my lord!
Who but the husband must maintain the wife
While she is honest? Must go to my father!
LORD TRANSIT.
Aye, madam, 'tis my pleasure.
LADY TRANSIT.
Hold, my lord:
Your pleasure, that is absolute with me,
May not be such with him. I would not wish you
So to mistake my father, as to think him
Less than your equal in the quickest sense
Of any insult, that shall touch his honour.
LORD TRANSIT.
Oh, if he feels so finely, I must think
To send him a right honourable daughter
Is the best compliment that I can pay him.
I took you as the veriest child of poverty;
I send you back appointed as my wife,
Ennobled, and enrich'd. Of what can he,
Or you, or any of your kin complain?
Farewell! You'll be provided for your journey.
LADY TRANSIT.
Farewell, my lord! I'm ready for my journey.
[Exit.
5
I do her wrong—by Heaven I do her wrong!
Well, well, well, well! I must not think about it.
The man, who hurries on as passion drives,
Must never put this question to his conscience,
Where am I going, or why go at all?—
Pass on, pass on; take your own way with me,
Dame Nature; on my conscience I believe
Where you lead one man right you puzzle thousands.
Where are my people? Here! who waits?
Dogherty enters.
DOGHERTY.
Myself.
What is your lordship's pleasure to be wanting?
LORD TRANSIT.
My pleasure does not centre in my wants;
Take that for granted. Let my chaise be ready.
DOGHERTY.
Oh, never fear the chaise; I'll answer for it;
I am not quite so sure about the horses.
LORD TRANSIT.
Sirrah, your quibbling sometimes may amuse,
Here it is out of place. Away, begone!
Servant enters.
SERVANT.
Your lordship's equipage is at the door.
[Exit Servant.
6
There now, he speaks as a good servant shou'd;
I'm but a quibbling blockhead, an old fool,
A worn-out piece of lumber—Throw me by:
I'm good for nothing.
LORD TRANSIT.
Listen, and don't talk.
I'm setting off for town:—when I am gone,
I shall keep no establishment at the castle.
DOGHERTY.
What will my lady do?
LORD TRANSIT.
Go to her father.
I've order'd her away.
DOGHERTY.
What! then 'tis clear
You will keep no establishment at the castle;
For, by my faith, all that she don't take with her,
Will take themselves away.
LORD TRANSIT.
And you amongst them,
If your long service hangs so light upon you.
Go where you will, or go with her—I care not.
DOGHERTY.
With her, so please your lordship; for I'm sure
That Heav'n's good providence will still be with her;
And I shall be right glad to take my chance
For making one in such good company.
7
I do believe you've made the wiser choice.
The dye is cast—Commend me to your lady.
[Exit.
DOGHERTY.
Commend you! Troth, there's little to commend
In or about you. You have had a taste
Of peace and purity; if that don't serve,
'Faith, you must e'en take up with dirty company,
And dirty dishes of the devil's providing.
Mrs. Ruth enters.
RUTH.
Oh Tim!
DOGHERTY.
Stop there,—Timotheus is my name,
Timotheus Dogherty—I would avoid
Too much familiarty with the wicked.
RUTH.
Do you call me the wicked? Give that name
To your own lord; he merits it most richly
For his base treatment of the best of ladies.
Ah! Mr. Dogherty, would you believe it?
He 'as turn'd her off, and sent her to her father.
DOGHERTY.
Yes, and there's one will send him to his father:
Make yourself sure of that.
RUTH.
Well, for my part,
The sooner we are out of this bad house
The better.
8
Right! it is an ugly house,
And, when your lady goes, the devil may enter:
I'll not be one to stop him.
RUTH.
So say I.
Would you were going with us—Wou'd you were!
DOGHERTY.
You're a good creature, are you not, to wish it?
Now I should guess, by the short time you spare
For conversation, you're extremely hurried.
RUTH.
Oh yes, I'm packing up my lady's things
As fast as possible.
DOGHERTY.
I see you are;
But at the pace you go 'twill soon be done:
And when you've pack'd your lady, Mrs. Ruth,
Look out a tight portmanteau for my rags,
And thrust 'em in, d'ye mind me—neatly now
By neck and shoulders, as you do your own.
RUTH.
You're going with us?
DOGHERTY.
You may say all that.
RUTH.
Oh, I'm so happy—and so very busy—
And here's the coachman—He'll be bawling out
9
I'm slaving, as you see, to get things ready.
[Exit.
Coachman enters.
DOGHERTY.
So, honest Joe! you are like Mrs. Ruth,
Slaving and toiling to get all things ready
For your good lady's going.
COACHMAN.
Master Dogherty,
'Tis a foul job;—I say it, and don't care
Who hears me—and, what's more, I am the man
That will not eat the bread of any master
Who wrongs so good a lady.
DOGHERTY.
Why, that's honest.
But servants must not talk.
COACHMAN.
Well! they can feel.
DOGHERTY.
Why, so they can, and so can horses too:
Now recollect that, Joe, when next you drive.
Here comes my lady—Go, go, get you gone!
[Exit Joe.
Lady Transit enters.
LADY TRANSIT.
So, friend! it seems that you and I must part.
DOGHERTY.
Not so—I'm going by my lord's commands
10
And, as I know no one step of the road,
I'm thinking, after all, that to go with you
Will be the readiest way to meet you there.
LADY TRANSIT.
Did my Lord Transit recommend this to you?
DOGHERTY.
Yes; and what's more, I recommended it
To my own self. That makes the business easy.
LADY TRANSIT.
My lord is kind in sparing me a servant
Of such tried honesty.
DOGHERTY.
I have all that.
A willing mind—I boast of nothing else.
LADY TRANSIT.
You will repent of it. My father's house
Is not like this great castle.
DOGHERTY.
I believe it:
Less in its bulk, but bigger in content.
LADY TRANSIT.
Make yourself ready for the journey then—
With my lord's leave I do accept your service.
DOGHERTY.
Oh then, I'll go and saddle old blind Bob;
He never starts, he only tumbles down.
11
And study nothing but my ease and safety.
[Exit.
Servant enters.
SERVANT.
Sir Charles Le Brun, to wait upon your ladyship.
LADY TRANSIT.
Sir Charles must pardon me—I see no visitors.
SERVANT.
He bade me say he had a message for you
Of much importance.
LADY TRANSIT.
From my lord, perhaps.
Admit Sir Charles.
[Exit Servant.
A high-flown gentleman,
Blest with the most high-flying wife in England.
Sir Charles Le Brun enters.
SIR CHARLES.
Ah, I was sure my goddess would not turn
The humblest of her votaries from her door.
LADY TRANSIT.
Well, you are not turn'd from my door, you see.
Now, then, lay by your stilts, and tell me plainly,
As suits an humble mortal, and no goddess,
What is your business. Have you any message
From my lord to me?
SIR CHARLES.
Oh! don't name him to me.
Transit has lost me quite. I can't speak of him
12
The brightest effort of creative nature!
Why, Paradise could not content that fellow.
LADY TRANSIT.
Come, come, your business.
SIR CHARLES.
What I hear is shocking.
You're going to your father.
LADY TRANSIT.
Does that shock you?
SIR CHARLES.
Unspeakably—the very surest course
To slur the credit of the purest fame.
A father's house is, in the world's construction,
The last sad refuge for a ruin'd daughter.
If you fly thither, either you must prove
In public court your husband's brutal treatment,
Or else submit, and leave the world to put
Their own interpretation on the measure—
Which Heaven forbid!
LADY TRANSIT.
It may be as you state;
But I have not another friend on earth,
To whom I can resort.
SIR CHARLES.
Ah! say not so!
You have a friend, a tender, feeling friend,
Pure, spotless as yourself. She sends me to you;
13
Her house, her heart, her honour, your asylum.
LADY TRANSIT.
And she is—who?
SIR CHARLES.
My wife.
LADY TRANSIT.
Lady Le Brun!
Nay now, my good Sir Charles, you must excuse me,
You certainly say this by way of jest;
I'm sure you do. I hardly know your lady
To curtsey to her. Recollect withal,
How should your lady, who is now in Town,
Know an event, which only came to pass
Within this hour?
SIR CHARLES.
Why, that's a natural question:
It struck me you would ask it.
LADY TRANSIT.
I dare say—
It don't strike me that you will answer it.
SIR CHARLES.
Have patience, goddess! I foresaw your danger,
And I appris'd my wife.
LADY TRANSIT.
Did you? It shows
How cautiously you guard my reputation:
And how munificent! to make your house
A hospital for unprotected wives,
14
Heavens! what a blest assembly will that be!
Of rival goddesses, and you the Paris
To keep us all in humour!
SIR CHARLES.
Nay, but hear me!
If you turn friendship into jest, I've done.
That any man can be insensible
To Lady Transit's charms, is out of nature:
If I should boast myself to be that man,
It were a lying boast.—My greatest pride
Will be, to guard those charms that I admire,
And, by convincing a censorious world
That you are not less virtuous than fair,
Bar those suspicions that may else attach
To your unsullied fame.
LADY TRANSIT.
I rather doubt,
My good Sir Charles, if you are quite the man
For such an office.
SIR CHARLES.
Can you doubt my honour?
LADY TRANSIT.
Oh, not your honour—nobody doubts that—
But very many people would doubt mine,
If I should make that transfer of myself
Which you advise. But let me see your orders—
Show me your lady's letter.
15
Be content:
I have it not about me.
LADY TRANSIT.
Search your pockets.
SIR CHARLES.
I never carry letters in my pockets.
LADY TRANSIT.
Oh yes, on such occasions, when you come
Express on a commission, you would bring it.
SIR CHARLES.
Now why should you desire to see a letter
Which 'tis so natural for a man to burn
As soon as he has read it?—A mere start
Of fond effusion from a doting wife
To a devoted husband.
LADY TRANSIT.
Ah, that's true,
That's very true:—You are so fond a husband,
And your dear lady such a darling wife;—
Upon my word, Sir Charles, I will not be
Your goddess any longer—not, at least,
Your household goddess. There you must excuse me;
And so, good morning! When I see your lady
I'll pay my thanks to her.
[Exit.
SIR CHARLES.
The vengeance! will you?
That will be perfectly mal-à-propos.
16
She's not that soft submissive thing I thought her.
Transit, methinks, may have some other cause
Than mere caprice for acting as he does;
Therefore, I'll not despair, but still pursue:—
For where the husband's harsh neglect is felt
The lover's assiduity may triumph.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
—An Apartment in the Castle.Servant enters followed by Trevor.
SERVANT.
My lady, sir, can see no company.
TREVOR.
I am no company—I am her cousin;
Her father's nephew.
SERVANT.
May I beg your name?
TREVOR.
My name is Trevor.
SERVANT.
Here my lady comes.
[Exit Servant.
Lady Transit enters.
LADY TRANSIT.
Ah! is it you? Why do you stand aloof?
Give me your hand, George! We have been old friends
And play-fellows.—Don't think I can forget you!
17
Oh! had I found that lovely nature chang'd—
Had you received me haughtily, I think
It would have broke my heart.
LADY TRANSIT.
Why shou'd you doubt me?
But I am all impatience for your news.
Is my dear father well?
TREVOR.
In health most perfect,
In manner not less rugged than he was.
LADY TRANSIT.
Well, well, we know his humour, and his heart.
TREVOR.
I have a letter from him to your lord;
I think I cross'd upon him at the door.
LADY TRANSIT.
'Twas not my lord: it was Sir Charles Le Brun.
TREVOR.
I'm glad I pass'd him. Where shall I deliver
This packet I am charg'd with?
LADY TRANSIT.
Give it me.
My lord is not at home. Do you suppose
That I may read it?
TREVOR.
I am sure you may.
18
'Tis not my father's hand.
TREVOR.
His lawyer wrote it;
He set his name to it. So, that's enough.
Read, read it! The contents will not displease you.
LADY TRANSIT.
[reads]
“My Lord!—A considerable property
having fallen to me unexpectedly, I must desire
you will permit my daughter to come to me in
London without delay, having business to adjust,
in which she, as my only child, is materially interested.
—I am, my Lord, your very humble servant,
“Philip Fairford.
P. S. “I have sent my nephew with this letter,
who will conduct her to my house in the City.”
TREVOR.
Yes; that's all true: it is a princely fortune.
Old Gallishoff, the Russian merchant, will'd it
To your good father—and your father earn'd it;
Got him a world of money; made four voyages
To Russia—I was with him on the last.
You married in his absence—I must tell you
It did not please him; but you'll find a pardon.
LADY TRANSIT.
When such good fortune falls upon my family
I must not murmur.
TREVOR.
Rather say you will not;
19
The fountains of affliction in those eyes,
Whose mute expression words could never mend.
Ah, my Louisa!—let me still address you
By that dear name—I know you are unhappy.
LADY TRANSIT.
How can you know that? Since I was a wife
We've never met.
TREVOR.
Think not, because I'm banish'd
From these proud doors, which have denied access
E'en to your father, that no voice hath told
A tale of secret sorrows in my ear:
Yes; I have heard them—felt them.
LADY TRANSIT.
Stop, my friend:
If I have sorrows, they shall be my own;
If I am arm'd in innocence, and clear
And bold in conscience, I want no defender.
TREVOR.
Well, if that day shall come, and I am living,
You will remember that there is a creature
Who lov'd you as a brother;—how much better
Is not for me to say.
LADY TRANSIT.
Doubt me not, George!
'Tis not a title can estrange my mind
From its remembrance of those happy days,
When kindred nature twin'd our hearts together.
20
And dwell on scenes like these. I must depart.
My lord's command confirms my father's call;
I scarce can bid you welcome to the castle:
So instant we must be upon our journey.
TREVOR.
I may attend upon you—?
LADY TRANSIT.
Oh, no doubt;
My father sent you hither for that purpose:
You'll be my sole companion; I shall take
No equipage of Lord Transit's, and one servant
Of either sex; no more.
TREVOR.
Can you be serious?
This is not going as becomes your rank.
LADY TRANSIT.
If it becomes my duty so to go,
I'll ask no leave of rank, but go without it;
And when you find me slighted and forsaken
By him whose wife I am, make no appeal,
But let him go, till conscience in his heart
Shall fix that hook by which to draw him back
To his domestic peace; for sure the fruits
Of virtue are not of that tasteless sort,
That the pall'd appetite should feel disgust
At her pure regimen, and turn aside
To snatch at pleasures, by experience found
Productive only of remorse and shame.
[Exeunt.
End of the First Act.
| A Hint to Husbands | |