A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic

SCENE II.--LORD FOPPINGTON'S Dressing-room. Enter LORD FOPPINGTON in his dressing-gown, and LA VAROLE. Lord Fop. [_Aside._] Well,'tis an unspeakable pleasure to be a man of quality--strike me dumb! Even the boors of this northern spa have learned the respect due to a title.-- [_Aloud._] La Varole! La Var. Milor-- Lord Fop. You ha'n't yet been at Muddymoat Hall, to announce my arrival, have you? La Var. Not yet, milor. Lord Fop. Then you need not go till Saturday-[_Exit_ LA VAROLE] as I am in no particular haste to view my intended sposa. I shall sacrifice a day or two more to the pursuit of my friend Loveless's wife. Amanda is a charming creature--strike me ugly! and, if I have any discernment in the world, she thinks no less of my Lord Foppington. Re-enter LA VAROLE. La Var. Milor, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de sempstress, de peru, be all ready, if your lordship please to dress. Lord Fop. 'Tis well, admit them. La Var. Hey, messieurs, entrez! Enter TAILOR, SHOEMAKER, SEMPSTRESS, JEWELLER, and MENDLEGS. Lord Fop. So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to show yourselves masters in your professions? Tai. I think I may presume, sir-- La Var. Milor, you clown, you! Tai. My lord--I ask your lordship's--pardon, my lord. I hope, my lord, your lordship will be pleased to own I have brought your lordship as accomplished a suit of clothes as ever peer of England wore, my lord--will your lordship please to view 'em now? Lord Fop. Ay; but let my people dispose the glasses so that I may see myself before and behind; for I love to see myself all round. [_Puts on his clothes_.] Enter TOM FASHION and LORY. They remain behind, conversing apart. Fash. Heyday! what the devil have we here? Sure my gentleman's grown a favourite at court, he has got so many people at his levee. Lory. Sir, these people come in order to make him a favourite at court--they are to establish him with the ladies. Fash. Good Heaven! to what an ebb of taste are women fallen, that it should be in the power of a laced coat to recommend a gallant to them? Lory. Sir, tailors and hair-dressers debauch all the women. Fash. Thou sayest true. But now for my reception. Lord Fop. [_To_ TAILOR.] Death and eternal tortures! Sir--I say the coat is too wide here by a foot. Tai. My lord, if it had been tighter, 'twould neither have hooked nor buttoned. Lord Fop. Rat the hooks and buttons, sir! Can any thing be worse than this? As Gad shall jedge me, it hangs on my shoulders like a chairman's surtout. Tai. 'Tis not for me to dispute your lordship's fancy. Lory. There, sir, observe what respect does. Fash. Respect! damn him for a coxcomb!--But let's accost him.--[_Coming forward_.] Brother, I'm your humble servant. Lord Fop. O Lard, Tam! I did not expect you in England. --Brother, I'm glad to see you.--But what has brought you to Scarborough, Tam!--[_To the_ TAILOR.] Look you, sir, I shall never be reconciled to this nauseous wrapping-gown, therefore pray get me another suit with all possible expedition; for this is my eternal aversion.--[_Exit_ TAILOR.] Well but, Tam, you don't tell me what has driven you to Scarborough.-- Mrs. Calico, are not you of my mind? Semp. Directly, my lord.--I hope your lordship is pleased with your ruffles? Lord Fop. In love with them, stap my vitals!--Bring my bill, you shall be paid to-morrow. Semp. I humbly thank your worship. [Exit.] Lord Fop. Hark thee, shoemaker, these shoes aren't ugly, but they don't fit me. Shoe. My lord, I think they fit you very well. Lord Fop. They hurt me just below the instep. Shoe. [_Feels his foot_.] No, my lord, they don't hurt you there. Lord Fop. I tell thee they pinch me execrably. Shoe. Why then, my lord, if those shoes pinch you, I'll be damned. Lord Fop. Why, will thou undertake to persuade me I cannot feel? Shoe. Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit, but that shoe does not hurt you--I think I understand my trade. Lord Fop. Now, by all that's good and powerful, thou art an incomprehensive coxcomb!--but thou makest good shoes, and so I'll bear with thee. Shoe. My lord, I have worked for half the people of quality in this town these twenty years, and 'tis very hard I shouldn't know when a shoe hurts, and when it don't. Lord Fop. Well, pr'ythee be gone about thy business.-- [_Exit_ SHOEMAKER.] Mr. Mendlegs, a word with you.--The calves of these stockings are thickened a little too much; they make my legs look like a porter's. Mend. My lord, methinks they look mighty well. Lord Fop. Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those things as I am--I have studied them all my life--therefore pray let the next be the thickness of a crown-piece less. Mend. Indeed, my lord, they are the same kind I had the honour to furnish your lordship with in town. Lord Fop. Very possibly, Mr. Mendlegs; but that was in the beginning of the winter, and you should always remember, Mr. Hosier, that if you make a nobleman's spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a monstrous impropriety, and make no allowance Tor the fatigues of the winter. [_Exit--_ MENDLEGS.] Jewel. I hope, my lord, these buckles have had the unspeakable satisfaction of being honoured with your lordship's approbation? Lord Fop. Why, they are of a pretty fancy; but don't you think them rather of the smallest? Jewel. My lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your lordship's shoe. Lord Fop. My good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they used to be; formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine, intended to keep on the shoe; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is of no earthly use, but to keep on the buckle.--Now give me my watches [SERVANT fetches the watches,] my chapeau, [SERVANT brings a dress hat,] my handkerchief, [SERVANT pours some scented liquor on a handkerchief and brings it,] my snuff-box [SERVANT brings snuff-box.] There, now the business of the morning is pretty well over. [_Exit_ JEWELLER.] Fash. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Well, Lory, what dost think on't?--a very friendly reception from a brother, after three years' absence! Lory. [_Aside to_ TOM FASHION.] Why, sir, 'tis your own fault--here you have stood ever since you came in, and have not commended any one thing that belongs to him. [SERVANTS _all go off._] Fash. [_Aside to_ LORY.] Nor ever shall, while they belong to a coxcomb.--[_To_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] Now your people of business are gone, brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an hour's audience of you? Lord Fop. Faith, Tam, I must beg you'll excuse me at this time, for I have an engagement which I would not break for the salvation of mankind.--Hey!--there!--is my carriage at the door? --You'll excuse me, brother. [_Going_.] Fash. Shall you be back to dinner? Lord Fop. As Gad shall jedge me, I can't tell; for it is passible I may dine with some friends at Donner's. Fash. Shall I meet you there? For I must needs talk with you. Lord Fop. That I'm afraid mayn't be quite so praper; for those I commonly eat with are people of nice conversation; and you know, Tam, your education has been a little at large.--But there are other ordinaries in town--very good beef ordinaries--I suppose, Tam, you can eat beef?--However, dear Tam, I'm glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals! [_Exit_, LA VAROLE following.] Fash. Hell and furies! is this to be borne? Lory. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o' the pate myself. Fash. 'Tis enough; I will now show you the excess of my passion, by being very calm.--Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and, in cold blood, let us contrive his destruction. Lory. Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than both our loggerheads, if she would but join in the confederacy. Fash. By this light, Madam Coupler! she seems dissatisfied at something: let us observe her. Enter MRS. COUPLER. Mrs. Coup. So! I am likely to be well rewarded for my services, truly; my suspicions, I find, were but too just.-- What! refuse to advance me a petty sum, when I am upon the point of making him master of a galleon! but let him look to the consequences; an ungrateful, narrow-minded coxcomb. Fash. So he is, upon my soul, old lady; it must be my brother you speak of. Mrs. Coup. Ha! stripling, how came you here? What, hast spent all, eh? And art thou come to dun his lordship for assistance? Fash. No, I want somebody's assistance to cut his lordship's throat, without the risk of being hanged for him. Mrs. Coup. Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burned in the hand for't. Fash. How--how, old Mischief? Mrs. Coup. Why, you must know I have done you the kindness to make up a match for your brother. Fash. I am very much beholden to you, truly! Mrs. Coup. You may be before the wedding-day, yet: the lady is a great heiress, the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and his lordship is come hither to put the finishing hand to the business. Fash. I understand as much. Mrs. Coup. Now, you must know, stripling, your brother's a knave. Fash. Good. Mrs. Coup. He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this fortune, and has promised me as much more, in ready money, upon the day of the marriage; which, I understand by a friend, he never designs to pay me; and his just now refusing to pay me a part is a proof of it. If, therefore, you will be a generous young rogue, and secure me five thousand pounds, I'll help you to the lady. Fash. And how the devil wilt thou do that? Mrs. Coup. Without the devil's aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother's face not one of the family ever saw; the whole business has been managed by me, and all his letters go through my hands. Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, my relation--for that's the old gentleman's name--is apprised of his lordship's being down here, and expects him to-morrow to receive his daughter's hand; but the peer, I find, means to bait here a few days longer, to recover the fatigue of his journey, I suppose. Now you shall go to Muddymoat Hall in his place.--I'll give you a letter of introduction: and if you don't marry the girl before sunset, you deserve to be hanged before morning. Fash. Agreed! agreed! and for thy reward-- Mrs. Coup. Well, well;--though I warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy pocket now--no--one may see it in thy face. Fash. Not a sous, by Jupiter! Mrs. Coup. Must I advance, then? Well, be at my lodgings, next door, this evening, and I'll see what may be done--we'll sign and seal, and when I have given thee some further instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be one. [_Exit_.] Fash. So, Lory, Fortune, thou seest, at last takes care of merit! we are in a fair way to be great people. Lory. Ay, sir, if the devil don't step between the cup and the lip, as he used to do. Fash. Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to spoil my fortune; and, egad, I am almost afraid he's at work about it again now; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me. Lory. Indeed, sir, I should not. Fash. How dost know? Lory. Because, sir, I have wondered at you so often, I can wonder at you no more. Fash. No! what wouldst thou say, if a qualm of conscience should spoil my design? Lory. I would eat my words, and wonder more than ever. Fash. Why faith, Lory, though I have played many a roguish trick, this is so full-grown a cheat, I find I must take pains to come up to't--I have scruples. Lory. They are strong symptoms of death. If you find they increase, sir, pray make your will. Fash. No, my conscience shan't starve me neither: but thus far I'll listen to it. Before I execute this project, I'll try my brother to the bottom. If he has yet so much humanity about him as to assist me--though with a moderate aid--I'll drop my project at his feet, and show him how I can do for him much more than what I'd ask he'd do for me. This one conclusive trial of him I resolve to make.