A Trip to Scarborough; and, The Critic Part 3

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside to_ AMANDA _squeezing her hand_.] I am in love with you to desperation, strike me speechless!

_Aman._ [_Strikes him on the ear_.] Then thus I return your pa.s.sion.--An impudent fool!

_Lord Fop_. G.o.d's curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm!

_Love_. [_Hastily returning_.] Hey! what the devil, do you affront my wife, sir? Nay, then-- [_Draws. They fight._]

_Aman_. What has my folly done?--Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven's sake.

_Lord Fop_. [_Falls back and leans on his sword._] Ah!

quite through the body, stap my vitals!

_Enter_ SERVANTS.

_Love_. [_Runs to_ LORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha'nt killed the fool, however. Bear him up.--Call a surgeon there.

_Lord Fop_. Ay, pray make haste. [_Exit_ SERVANT.

_Love_. This mischief you may thank yourself for.

_Lord Fop_. I may say so; love's the devil indeed, Ned.

_Re-enter_ SERVANT, _with_ PROBE.

_Ser_. Here's Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door.

_Lord Fop_. He's the welcomest man alive.

_Probe_. Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon us, did you never see a man run through the body before?--Pray stand by.

_Lord Fop_. Ah, Mr. Probe, I'm a dead man.

_Probe_. A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, egad.

_Love_. Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon his wound.

_Probe_. Why, what if I don't look upon his wound this hour, sir?

_Love_. Why, then he'll bleed to death, sir.

_Probe_. Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, sir.

_Love_. 'Slife! he's run through the body, I tell thee.

_Probe_. I wish he was run through the heart, and I should get the more credit by his cure. Now I hope you are satisfied?

Come, now let me come at him--now let me come at him.-- [_Viewing his wound._] Oops I what a gash is here! why, sir, a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body.

_Lord Fop_. Oh!

_Probe_. Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman through with--a scythe?--[_Aside_.] A little scratch between the skin and the ribs, that's all.

_Love_. Let me see his wound.

_Probe_. Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks upon it I won't.

_Love_. Why, thou art the veriest c.o.xcomb I ever saw!

_Probe_. Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing.

_Lord Fop_. Surgeon!

_Probe_. Sir.

_Lord Fop_. Are there any hopes?

_Probe_. Hopes! I can't tell. What are you willing to give for a cure? _Lord Fop_. Five hundred paunds with pleasure.

_Probe_. Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must avoid further delay.--Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and carry him to my house presently--that's the properest place-- [_Aside_.] to bubble him out of his money.--[_Aloud_.]

Come, a chair--a chair quickly--there, in with him. [SERVANTS _put_ LORD FOPPINGTON _into a chair_.]

_Lord Fop_. Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; and if I live, I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am sorry you and I should quarrel, but I hope here's an end on't; for if you are satisfied, I am.

_Love_. I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any further, so you may be at rest, sir.

_Lord Fop_. Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb!

--[_Aside_.] But thou hast an impertinent wife, stap my vitals!

_Probe_. So--carry him off!--carry him off!--We shall have him into a fever by-and-by.--Carry him off! [_Exit with_ LORD FOPPINGTON.]

Enter COLONEL TOWNLY.

_Col. Town_. So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.--I met a wounded peer carrying off. For heaven's sake what was the matter?

_Love_. Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife before my face, so she obliged him with a box o' the ear, and I ran him through the body, that was all.

_Col. Town_. Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how long has this n.o.ble lord been an humble servant of yours?

_Aman_. This is the first I have heard on't--so I suppose, 'tis his quality more than his love has brought him into this adventure. He thinks his t.i.tle an authentic pa.s.sport to every woman's heart below the degree of a peeress.

_Col. Town_. He's c.o.xcomb enough to think anything: but I would not have you brought into trouble for him. I hope there's no danger of his life?

_Love_. None at all. He's fallen into the hands of a roguish surgeon, who, I perceive, designs to frighten a little money out of him: but I saw his wound--'tis nothing: he may go to the ball to-night if he pleases.

_Col. Town_. I am glad you have corrected him without further mischief, or you might have deprived me of the pleasure of executing a plot against his lords.h.i.+p, which I have been contriving with an old acquaintance of yours.

_Love_. Explain.

_Col. Town_. His brother, Tom Fas.h.i.+on, is come down here, and we have it in contemplation to save him the trouble of his intended wedding: but we want your a.s.sistance. Tom would have called but he is preparing for his enterprise, so I promised to bring you to him--so, sir, if these ladies can spare you-- _Love_. I'll go with you with all my heart.--[_Aside_.]

Though I could wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that creature. Good G.o.ds! how engaging she is!--but what have I to do with beauty? I have already had my portion, and must not covet more.

_Aman_. Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go.

[_Exit_ COLONEL TOWNLY.

_Love_. What would my dear?

_Aman_. Only a woman's foolish question: how do you like my cousin here?

_Love_. Jealous already, Amanda?

_Aman_. Not at all: I ask you for another reason.

_Love_. [_Aside_.] Whate'er her reason be, I must not tell her true.--[_Aloud_.] Why, I confess, she's handsome: but you must not think I slight your kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the women who may claim that character, she is the last that would triumph in my heart.

_Aman_. I'm satisfied.

_Love_. Now tell me why you asked?

_Aman_. At night I will--adieu!

_Love_. I'm yours. [_Kisses her and exit_.]

_Aman_. I'm glad to find he does not like her, for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me.

[_Aside_.]

_Ber_. So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there must be something more at the bottom of this than the provocation he pretends from me. [_Aside_.]

_Aman_. For Heaven's sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me.

_Ber_. Why, one way in the world there is, and but one.

_Aman_. And pray what is that?

_Ber_. It is to a.s.sure me--I shall be very welcome.

_Aman_. If that be all, you shall e'en sleep here to-night.

_Ber_. To-night.

_Aman_. Yes, to-night.

_Ber_. Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad.

_Aman_. Let 'em think what they please.

_Ber_. Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what they please: for I'm a young widow, and I care not what anybody thinks.--Ah, Amanda, it's a delicious thing to be a young widow!

_Aman_. You'll hardly make me think so.

_Ber_. Poh! because you are in love with your husband.

_Aman_. Pray, 'tis with a world of innocence I would inquire whether you think those we call women of reputation do really escape all other men as they do those shadows of beaux.

_Ber_. Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful work amongst 'em, men that may be called the beau's antipathy, for they agree in nothing but walking upon two legs. These have brains, the beau has none. These are in love with their mistress, the beau with himself. They take care of their reputation, the beau is industrious to destroy it. They are decent, he's a fop; in short, they are men, he's an a.s.s.

_Aman_. If this be their character, I fancy we had here, e'en now, a pattern of 'em both.

_Ber_. His lords.h.i.+p and Colonel Townly?

_Aman_. The same.

_Ber_. As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the other, I can a.s.sure you there's not a man in town who has a better interest with the women that are worth having an interest with.

_Aman_. He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [_Takes her hand_.] I must acquaint you with a secret--'tis not that fool alone has talked to me of love; Townly has been tampering too.

_Ber_. [_Aside_.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!-- [_Aloud_.] Colonel Townly! impossible, my dear!

_Aman_. 'Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor do I think that all the merit of mankind combined could shake the tender love I bear my husband; yet I will own to you, Berinthia, I did not start at his addresses, as when they came from one whom I contemned.

_Ber. [Aside_.] Oh, this is better and better!-- [_Aloud_.] Well said, Innocence! and you really think, my dear, that nothing could abate your constancy and attachment to your husband?

_Aman_. Nothing, I am convinced.

_Ber_. What, if you found he loved another woman better?

_Aman_. Well!

_Ber_. Well!--why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should run the risk of being that thing they call--a husband. Don't I talk madly?

_Aman_. Madly indeed!

_Ber_. Yet I'm very innocent.

_Aman_. That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your humour: but you resolve then never to marry again?

_Ber_. Oh no! I resolve I will.

_Aman_. How so?

_Ber_. That I never may.

_Aman_. You banter me.