Scene II St. James’s Park
Enter Sir Harry Gubbin and Tipkin.
Sir Har. Look ye, brother Tipkin, as I told you before, my business in town is to dispose of an hundred head of cattle, and my son.
Tip. Brother Gubbin, as I signified to you in my last, bearing date September 13th, my niece has a thousand pounds per annum, and because I have found you a plain-dealing man (particularly in the easy pad you put into my hands last summer), I was willing you should have the refusal of my niece, provided that I have a discharge from all retrospects while her guardian, and one thousand pounds for my care.
Sir Har. Ay, but brother, you rate her too high, the war has fetched down the price of women; the whole nation is overrun with petticoats; our daughters lie upon our hands, Brother Tipkin; girls are drugs, sir, mere drugs.
Tip. Look ye, Sir Harry, let girls be what they will, a thousand pounds a year, is a thousand pounds a year; and a thousand pounds a year is neither girl nor boy.
Sir Har. Look ye, Mr. Tipkin, the main article with me is, that foundation of wive’s rebellion, and husband’s cuckoldom, that cursed pin-money. Five hundred pounds per annum pin-money!
Tip. The word pin-money, Sir Harry, is a term.
Sir Har. It is a term, brother, we never had in our family, nor ever will. Make her jointure in widowhood accordingly large, but four hundred pounds a year is enough to give no account of.
Tip. Well, Sir Harry, since you can’t swallow these pins, I will abate to four hundred pounds.
Sir Har. And to mollify the article, as well as specify the uses, we’ll put in the names of several female utensils, as needles, knitting-needles, tape, thread, scissors, bodkins, fans, play-books, with other toys of that nature. And now, since we have as good as concluded on the marriage, it will not be improper that the young people see each other.
Tip. I don’t think it prudent till the very instant of marriage, lest they should not like one another.
Sir Har. They shall meet—As for the young girl, she cannot dislike Numps; and for Numps, I never suffered him to have anything he liked in his life. He’ll be here immediately; he has been trained up from his childhood under such a plant as this, in my hand—I have taken pains in his education.
Tip. Sir Harry, I approve your method; for since you have left off hunting you might otherwise want exercise, and this is a subtle expedient to preserve your own health and your son’s good manners.
Sir Har. It has been the custom of the Gubbins to preserve severity and discipline in their families: I myself was caned the day before my wedding.
Tip. Ay, Sir Harry, had you not been well cudgelled in your youth, you had never been the man you are.
Sir Har. You say right, sir, now I feel the benefit of it. There’s a crab-tree near your house which flourishes for the good of my posterity, and has brushed our jackets from father to son, for several generations.
Tip. I am glad to hear you have all things necessary for the family within yourselves.
Sir Har. Oh, yonder, I see Numps is coming—I have dressed him in the very suit I had on at my own wedding; ’tis a most becoming apparel.
Enter Humphry Gubbin.
Tip. Truly, the youth makes a good marriageable figure.
Sir Har. Come forward, Numps; this is your uncle Tipkin, your mother’s brother, Numps, that is so kind as to bestow his niece upon you.—Don’t be so glum, sirrah, don’t bow to a man with a face as if you’d knock him down, don’t, sirrah. [Apart.
Tip. I am glad to see you, cousin Humphry.—He is not talkative, I observe already.
Sir Har. He is very shrewd, sir, when he pleases.—Do you see this crab-stick, you dog? [Apart.]—Well, Numps, don’t be out of humour.—Will you talk? [Apart.]—Come, we’re your friends, Numps; come, lad.
Hump. You are a pure fellow for a father. This is always your tricks, to make a great fool of one before company. [Apart to his father.
Sir Har. Don’t disgrace me, sirrah, you grim, graceless rogue—[Apart.]—Brother, he has been bred up to respect and silence before his parents. Yet did you but hear what a noise he makes sometimes in the kitchen, or the kennel—he’s the loudest of ’em all.
Tip. Well, Sir Harry, since you assure me he can speak, I’ll take your word for it.
Hump. I can speak when I see occasion, and I can hold my tongue when I see occasion.
Sir Har. Well said, Numps—Sirrah, I see you can do well, if you will. [Apart.
Tip. Pray walk up to me, cousin Humphry.
Sir Har. Ay, walk to and fro between us with your hat under your arm.—Clear up your countenance. [Apart.
Tip. I see, Sir Harry, you han’t set him a-capering under a French dancing-master. He does not mince it. He has not learned to walk by a courant or a boree.84 His paces are natural, Sir Harry.
Hump. I don’t know, but ’tis so we walk in the West of England.
Sir Har. Ay, right, Numps, and so we do. Ha! ha! ha! Pray, brother, observe his make, none of your lath-backed wishy-washy breed. Come hither, Numps—Can’t you stand still? [Apart.] [Measuring his shoulders.
Tip. I presume this is not the first time, Sir Harry, you have measured his shoulders with your cane.
Sir Mar. Look ye, brother, two foot and a-half in the shoulders.
Tip. Two foot and a-half? We must make some settlement on the younger children.
Sir Har. Not like him, quotha’!
Tip. He may see his cousin when he pleases.
Hump. But harkee, uncle, I have a scruple I had better mention before marriage than after.
Tip. What’s that? What’s that?
Hump. My cousin, you know, is akin to me, and I don’t think it lawful for a young man to marry his own relations.85
Sir Har. Harkee, harkee, Numps, we have got a way to solve all that.—Sirrah! Consider this cudgel! Your cousin! suppose I’d have you marry your grandmother; what then? [Apart.
Tip. Well, has your father satisfied you in the point, Mr. Humphry?
Hump. Ay, ay, sir, very well. I have not the least scruple remaining; no, no—not in the least, sir.
Tip. Then harkee, brother, we’ll go take a whet and settle the whole affair.
Sir Har. Come, we’ll leave Numps here: he knows the way—Not marry your own relations, sirrah! [Apart. [Exeunt.
Hump. Very fine, very fine! How prettily this park is stocked with soldiers, and deer, and ducks, and ladies!—Ha! where are the old fellows gone? where can they be tro’——I’ll ask these people.
Enter Pounce and Fainlove.
Hump. Ha, you pretty young gentleman, did you see my father?
Fain. Your father, sir?
Hump. A weazel-faced cross old gentleman with spindle-shanks?
Fain. No, sir.
Hump. A crab-tree stick in his hand?
Pounce. We han’t met anybody with these marks; but sure I have seen you before—Are not you Mr. Humphry Gubbin, son and heir to Sir Henry Gubbin?
Hump. I am his son and heir—but how long I shall be so I can’t tell, for he talks every day of disinheriting me.
Pounce. Dear sir, let me embrace you—Nay, don’t be offended if I take the liberty to kiss you. Mr. Fainlove, pray [Fainlove kisses] kiss the gentleman—Nay, dear sir, don’t stare and be surprised, for I have had a desire to be better known to you ever since I saw you one day clinch your fist at your father when his back was turned upon you; for I must own I very much admire a young gentleman of spirit.
Hump. Why, sir, would it not vex a man to the heart to have an old fool snubbing a body every minute afore company?
Pounce. Oh fie, he uses you like a boy.
Hump. Like a boy! He lays me on now and then as if I were one of his hounds. You can’t think what a rage he was in this morning because I boggled a little at marrying my own cousin.
Pounce. A man can’t be too scrupulous, Mr. Humphry—a man can’t be too scrupulous.
Hump. Sir, I could as soon love my own flesh and blood; we should squabble like brother and sister; do you think we should not? Mr.——Pray, gentlemen, may I crave the favour of your names?
Pounce. Sir, I am the very person that has been employed to draw up the articles of marriage between you and your cousin.
Hump. Ay, say you so? Then you can inform me in some things concerning myself—Pray, sir, what estate am I heir to?
Pounce. To fifteen hundred pounds a year, an entailed estate.
Hump. I am glad to hear it with all my heart; and can you satisfy me in another question—Pray how old am I at present?
Pounce. Three-and-twenty last March.
Hump. Why, as sure as you are there, they have kept me back. I have been told by some of the neighbourhood that I was born the very year the pigeon-house was built, and everybody knows the pigeon-house is three-and-twenty. Why! I find there have been tricks played me. I have obeyed him all along, as if I had been obliged to it.
Pounce. Not at all, sir; your father can’t cut you out of one acre of fifteen hundred pounds a year.
Hump. What a fool have I been to give him his head so long!
Pounce. A man of your beauty and fortune may find out ladies enough that are not akin to you.
Hump. Look ye, Mr. what d’ye call—as to my beauty, I don’t know but they may take a liking to that. But, sir, mayn’t I crave your name?
Pounce. My name, sir, is Pounce, at your service.
Hump. Pounce, with a P?
Pounce. Yes, sir, and Samuel, with an S.
Hump. Why, then, Mr. Samuel Pounce, do you know any gentlewoman that you think I could like? For, to tell you truly, I took an antipathy to my cousin ever since my father proposed her to me; and since everybody knows I came up to be married, I don’t care to go down and look balked.
Pounce. I have a thought just come into my head—Do you see this young gentleman? He has a sister, a prodigious fortune. ‘Faith, you two shall be acquainted.
Fain. I can’t pretend to expect so accomplished a gentleman as Mr. Humphry for my sister, but being your friend, I’ll be at his service in the affair.
Hump. If I had your sister, she and I should live like two turtles.
Pounce. Mr. Humphry, you shan’t be fooled any longer; I’ll carry you into company. Mr. Fainlove, you shall introduce him to Mrs. Clerimont’s toilet.
Fain. She’ll be highly taken with him; for she loves a gentleman whose manner is particular.
Pounce. What, sir, a person of your pretensions, a clear estate, no portions to pay! ’Tis barbarous, your treatment.—Mr. Humphry, I’m afraid you want money. There’s for you—What, a man of your accomplishments! [Giving a purse.
Hump. And yet you see, sir, how they use me. Dear sir, you are the best friend I ever met with in all my life. Now I am flush of money, bring me to your sister, and I warrant you for my behaviour—A man’s quite another thing with money in his pocket, you know.
Pounce. How little the oaf wonders why I should give him money! [Aside].—You shall never want, Mr. Humphry, while I have it, Mr. Humphry; but dear friend, I must take my leave of you; I have some extraordinary business on my hands. I can’t stay; but you must not say a word.
Fain. But you must be in the way half-an-hour hence, and I’ll introduce you at Mrs. Clerimont’s.
Pounce. Make ’em believe you are willing to have your cousin Bridget, till opportunity serves. Farewell, dear friend. [Exit Pounce and Fain.
Hump. Farewell, good Mr. Samuel Pounce.—But let’s see my cash— ’tis very true, the old saying, a man meets with more friendship from strangers than his own relations—Let’s see my cash: 1, 2, 3, 4, there on that side; 1, 2, 3, 4, on that side; ’tis a foolish thing to put all one’s money in one pocket; ’tis like a man’s whole estate in one county—These five in my fob—I’ll keep these in my hand, lest I should have a present occasion.—But this town’s full of pickpockets; I’ll go home again. [Exit whistling.