University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Another Apartment in Sir John's House.
Enter Maria, Eliza, Heartwell, and Edward Lacey.
E. Lacey.
What can we say to move you to compliance?
Will you, like coy princesses in romance,
Treat us like errant knights, and send us forth
To seek adventures, and to bring home trophies
In honour of your beauty?

Eliza.
We have told you
The spell which is impos'd upon ourselves.
If you can break the talisman that guards us,
You may succeed; if not, your hopes are lost.

Heartwell.
Why what a strange Urganda is this lady,
Who throws up her intrenchments thus around you,
To keep off honest-hearted gentlemen,
Who would redeem you from such slavish thraldom,
And shew you as you are, Nature's perfection!
But, if I'm fated to encounter dragons,
Let me confront them speedily.

Maria.
Beware—
Your enterprize, perhaps, may not prove easy.

Heartwell.
I'm not so readily to be alarm'd.
Place danger on one hand, and you on th' other,
And see if I shall flinch.

Maria.
Give over—hush—
My mother is return'd, I hear her coming.

Enter Lady Traffic.
Lady Traffic.
So, you have got your gentlemen, I see.

Maria.
This, Ma'am, is Master Heartwell, and this other
Sir Maurice Lacy's eldest son and heir.

Lady Traffic.
Well, Sirs, instruct me what are your commands.

Heartwell.
With the respect it suits you to receive,
And us to pay you, I will speak our purpose.
As good Sir John hath told you who we are,
What are our means, and how we are dispos'd
To make a fitting settlement on her
Whom love and fortune may bestow on us,
We crave your gracious leave to urge our suit.
It were presumption to decide between them;
Both are alike so fair and so endow'd
With every charm to captivate and keep
Affection, that, like Paris, when he held
'Midst rival goddesses the prize of beauty,
My wand'ring eye scarce knows on which to fix.
But he at length decided for his Venus,
And here, so please you, Madam, I choose mine.—

(Takes Maria's hand.)
E. Lacey.
(to Eliza.)
When on this hand I bow , and sue for favour,
'Tis not because another has preferr'd
Your lovely sister. Had I felt for her
What I now feel for you, no power on earth
Had forc'd me to surrender her; but when
I gaze upon your beauties, hear your voice,
See that enchanting smile—Forgive me, fair one,
If my fond hopes mislead me—I profess
Myself your willing slave, and on your sentence
Rest all my future views of happiness.
What says my lovely judge?

Lady Traffic.
I'll answer for them:
They speak and act but as I please they should.

E. Lacey.
How well then, Madam, must they act and speak?

Lady Traffic.
That's not ill said; but truce with compliments:
You'll find that more than words are wanting.

E. Lacey.
Madam,
Methinks we have already giv'n you more.
What is't you'd have? We have profess'd ourselves
Ready to make substantial settlements,
Proportion'd to their fortunes.

Lady Traffic.
'Psha! a trifle!

Heartwell.
Our heirs, I fear me, will not find it so,
When they're oblig'd to pay it.

E. Lacey.
Come, good Madam,
Do not thus keep us in suspense.

Lady Traffic
(to E. Lacey.)
I think
Your father is a merchant.

E. Lacey.
Aye, a brave one,
Equal to any known on the Exchange.

Lady Traffic.
—(To Heartwell.)
And you, Sir, what do you call yourself?

Heartwell.
A man!
An honest man, a country gentleman.

Lady Traffic.
Stand forth, thou citizen! and farmer, thou!
(To E. Lacey.)
Think'st thou, because thy father in a bargain
Can circumvent a broker,
Thou art worthy
To match thee with my daughter?— (To Heartwell.)
Or think you,
Because you feed fat cattle in your marshes,
And know the price of corn, how much per bushel,
That all this qualifies you to aspire
To be my son-in-law.

Heartwell.
Aye, to be more,
Were any thing superior! What's this scorn,
Ungracious lady! of your country's honour,
An English freeholder? I boast that title,
And would not for a foreign dukedom change it.

Lady Traffic.
Keep it, and welcome; but of this be sure,
'Till you can boast a rank more dignified
You are not for my daughter.

E. Lacey.
Nay, good Madam—

Lady Traffic.
You know my mind. What more have you to say?

Heartwell.
Faith! Madam, little, but that we came here
By the permission of Sir John himself,
Whose sanction is sufficient for our license.

Lady Traffiic.
You'll find it otherwise. Sir John', indeed
This is a case, Sir, give me leave to tell you,
Where I by special privilege may challenge
A casting voice; and I will have it too.

Heartwell.
As by Heav'n's grace, and this fair creature's favour,
I trust to call you lady mother shortly,
I'll not dispute that with you.— (To Maria.)
Say, my fair one,
Will you disdain an honest man's affection?

Lady Traffic.
I do command her silence.— (To Maria.)
Come here, girl.
(To Heartwell.)
Let go her hand.— (To Lacey.)
And you too, saucy Sir—

E. Lacey.
Nay, Madam, this is wrong. Give us fair play—

Lady Traffic
(to Maria and Eliza.)
Come here, I tell you both—loosen their hands—

Enter Sir John and Sir Maurice.
Sir John.
Hey day! What's all this stir?

Lady Traffic.
Do you bring plebeians,
To mix their puddle with a stream like that
Which flows within these veins?

Sir John.
Patience, good Meg!
Why sure thou dost forget thyself, my love!
Thy father was a worthy fishmonger,
And liv'd in Lothbury—thy mother was—

Lady Traffic.
I'll not demean myself to answer you;
But, if you stir a step, Sir—

Sir John.
Come, my Molly,
And you too, Bess!—What say you?—Speak, my girls.

Maria.
I scarce can venture, Sir, to speak my mind,
Or I should say—

Lady Traffic.
I charge you to be silent.

Eliza.
Sir, with a maiden's diffidence, I may
Presume to tell you—

Lady Traffic.
You must talk too, must you?

Sir John.
Why, won't you let the girl's speak?

Lady Traffic.
No, I won't.

Sir John.
What's here to do? Is this becoming treatment
For gentlemen like these, my worthy friends,
Who honour us by seeking our alliance?

Lady Traffic.
They may be friends of your's, for ought I care,
But they are not fit suitors for your daughters.
And as for you, Sir John—

Sir John.
Nay, nay, no more—
Hear what I say—

Lady Traffic.
I will not hear a word.
I've heard too much already. You and they
May carry on your projects as you please,
But 'tis full time that I should have my way.
(To Maria and Eliza.)
Come here, both of you.—
(To Heartwell and Edward.)
You have had your answer.
And you, Sir, your's. We'll see who governs here!
(To Maria and Eliza.)
There, get you out. Sir John! if you presume
To take a single step without my license,
I'll make you know both who and what I am, Sir!

[Exeunt Lady Traffic, Maria, and Eliza.
Heartwell.
I'd rather stand upon the bleakest summit
Of our bare wolds in a December's night,
Wrapt in a wet sheet, than again encounter
Such a virago! Farewell, good Sir John!
Your daughter is an angel, but your wife—
I give you joy of her!
[Exit Heartwell.

E. Lacey.
I hop'd to find
In your alliance happiness and honor.
Your daughter, Sir, is all my fondest hope
Could picture of perfection; but her mother—
I spare you more reflections—on my soul
I pity you, Sir John! I do indeed;
Nay, all the world must pity you.—Farewell!
[Exit Edward Lacey.

(Sir John and Sir Maurice stand looking dolefully at each other. After a pause,)
Sir Maurice.
Sir John!

Sir John.
Sir Maurice!

Sir Maurice.
Our affairs, methinks,
Go bravely on. There's in your lady's manner
Something so soft, so mild, so captivating—
I'll warrant me, that your reflections too
Must be prodigiously amusing to you.

Sir John.
Spare me, my friend; the ulcer in my heart
Should not be prob'd so roughly. I'm asham'd
To think how far my weakness for that woman
Has led me to give up my rightful claim
To rule in mine own house: but, as the fever,
Which riots in our blood, and undermines
The source of life, oft brings on its own crisis,
So shall my very shame work its own cure.

Sir Maurice.
That's well resolv'd. But how?

Sir John.
Give me a moment—
You think my brother Luke a worthy man?

Sir Maurice.
I'm sure he's such.

Sir John.
Deserving confidence?

Sir Maurice.
Why ask you this?

Sir John.
I have my reasons for it.
Well, well; I'll think him so, and as such trust him.

Sir Maurice.
To what intent, I pray?

Sir John.
I'll tell you shortly.
Let's to the fields, and taste the air awhile.
I want a sedative, to calm the choler
Which clouds my better judgment. Good Sir Maurice,
The time is come, when my proud wife shall learn
A lesson, strong enough to teach her wisdom.

[Exeunt.