University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Veasey, Bellair.
BELLAIR.
Well, I don't know a pleasanter man in his way;
'Tis no wonder his friends are so fond of their chief.

VEASEY.
That you are not among them is matter for grief.
Ah, a man of such stake in the land as yourself,
Could command any post in the Court of the Guelph.

BELLAIR.
No, no; I'm appalled.

VEASEY.
By the king? Can you doubt him?

BELLAIR.
I'm appalled by those Gorgons, the ladies about him.

VEASEY.
Good! ha, ha! yes, in beauty his taste may be wrong,
But he has what we want, sir, a government strong.

BELLAIR.
Meaning petticoat government? Mine too is such,
But my rulers don't frighten their subjects so much.

VEASEY.
Nay, your rulers? Why plural? Legitimate sway
Can admit but one ruler to love—

BELLAIR.
And obey.
What a wife! Constitutional monarchy? Well,
If I chose my own sovereign I might not rebel.

VEASEY.
You may choose at your will! With your parts, wealth, condition,
You, in marriage, could link all the ends of ambition.
There is a young beauty—the highest in birth,
And her father, the Duke—

BELLAIR.
Oh, a duke!

VEASEY.
Knows your worth.
Listen: Walpole, desiring to strengthen the Lords
With the very best men whom the country affords,
Has implied to his Grace, that his choice should be clear,
(Carelessly.)
If you wed the Duke's daughter, of course you're a peer.

BELLAIR.
With the Lords and the lady would Walpole ally me?

VEASEY.
Yes; and, if I were you—

BELLAIR.
He would certainly buy me;
But I,—being a man—

(Draws himself up haughtily.)
VEASEY.
No offence. Why that frown?

BELLAIR
(relapsing into his habitual ease).
Nay, forgive me. Tho' man, I'm a man about town;
And so graceful a compliment could not offend
Any man about town, from a Minister's friend.
Still, if not from the frailty of mortals exempt,
Can a mortal be tempted where sins do not tempt?
Of my rank and my fortune I am so conceited,
That I don't, with a wife, want those blessings repeated.
And tho' flattered to learn I should strengthen the Peers—
Give me still our rough House with its laughter and cheers.
Let the Lords have their chamber—I grudge not its powers;
But for badgering a Minister nothing like ours!
Whisper that to the Minister;—sir, your obedient.

(Turns away.)
VEASEY
(aside).
Humph! I see we must hazard the ruder expedient.
If some Jacobite pit for his feet we can dig,
He shall hang as a Tory, or vote as a Whig.

(Veasey retires into the background.)
BELLAIR
(seating himself).
Oh, how little these formalist middle-aged schemers
Know of us the bold youngsters, half sages, half dreamers!
Sages half? Yes, because of the time rushing on,
Part and parcel are we: they belong to time gone.
Dreamers half? Yes, because in a woman's fair face
We imagine the heavën they find in a place.
At this moment I, courted by Whig and by Tory,
For the spangles and tinsel which clothe me with glory,
Am a monster so callous, I should not feel sorrow
If an earthquake engulfed Whig and Tory tomorrow;
“What a heartless assertion!” the aged would say:
True, the young have no heart, for they give it away.
Ah, I love! and here—joy!—comes the man who may aid me.

(Enter Blount.)