Scene II Tipkin’s House
Enter Pounce with papers; a table, chairs, pen, ink, and paper.
Pounce. ’Tis a delight to gall these old rascals, and set ’em at variance about stakes, which I know neither of ’em will ever have possession of.
Enter Tipkin and Sir Harry.
Tip. Do you design, Sir Harry, that they shall have an estate in their own hands, and keep house themselves, poor things?
Sir Har. No, no, sir, I know better; they shall go down into the country, and live with me, not touch a farthing of money; but, having all things necessary provided, they shall go tame about the house, and breed.
Tip. Well, Sir Harry, then considering that all human things are subject to change, it behoves every man that has a just sense of mortality to take care of his money.
Sir Har. I don’t know what you mean, brother. What do you drive at, brother?
Tip. This instrument is executed by you, your son, and my niece, which discharges me of all retrospects.
Sir Har. It is confessed, brother; but what then?
Tip. All that remains is, that you pay me for the young lady’s twelve years’ board, as also all other charges, as wearing-apparel, &c.
Sir Har. What is this you say? Did I give you my discharge from all retrospects, as you call it? and after all do you come with this and t’other, and all that? I find you are—I tell you, sir, to your face—I find you are——
Tip. I find too what you are, Sir Harry.
Sir Har. What am I, sir? What am I?
Tip. Why, sir, you are angry.
Sir Har. Sir, I scorn your words; I am not angry. Mr. Pounce is my witness; I am as gentle as a lamb. Would it not make any flesh alive angry, to see a close hunks come after all with a demand of——
Tip. Mr. Pounce, pray inform Sir Harry in this point.
Pounce. Indeed, Sir Harry, I must tell you plainly, that Mr. Tipkin, in this, demands nothing but what he may recover. For though this case may be considered multifariam—that is to say, as ’tis usually, commonly, vicatim, or vulgarly expressed—yet, I say, when we only observe that the power is settled as the law requires, assensu patris, by the consent of the father, that circumstance imports you are well acquainted with the advantages which accrue to your family by this alliance, which corroborates Mr. Tipkin’s demand, and avoids all objections that can be made.
Sir Har. Why then, I find you are his adviser in all this.
Pounce. Look ye, Sir Harry, to show you I love to promote among my clients a good understanding; though Mr. Tipkin may claim four thousand pounds, I’ll engage for him, and I know him so well, that he shall take three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eightpence farthing.
Tip. Indeed, Mr. Pounce, you are too hard upon me.
Pounce. You must consider a little, Sir Harry is your brother.
Sir Har. Three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eightpence farthing! For what, I say? For what, sir?
Pounce. For what, sir! for what she wanted, sir; a fine lady is always in want, sir—her very clothes would come to that money in half the time.
Sir Har. Three thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight pounds, four shillings and eighteenpence farthing for clothes! Pray how many suits does she wear out in a year?
Pounce. Oh! dear sir, a fine lady’s clothes are not old by being worn, but by being seen.
Sir Har. Well, I’ll save her clothes for the future, after I have got her into the country. I’ll warrant her she shall not appear more in this wicked town, where clothes are worn out by sight—And as to what you demand, I tell you, sir, ’tis extortion.
Tip. Sir Harry, do you accuse me of extortion?
Sir Har. Yes, I say extortion.
Tip. Mr. Pounce, write down that; there are very good laws provided against scandal and calumny—Loss of reputation may tend to loss of money.
Pounce. Item, “for having accused Mr. Tipkin of extortion.”
Sir Har. Nay, if you come to your items—look ye, Mr. Tipkin, this is an inventory of such goods as were left to my niece, Bridget, by her deceased father, and which I expect shall be forthcoming at her marriage to my son: Imprimis, “a golden locket of her mother’s, with something very ingenious in Latin on the inside of it”; item, “a couple of muskets, with two shoulder-belts and bandoleers”; item, “a large silver caudle-cup, with a true story engraven on it.”
Pounce. But, Sir Harry——
Sir Har. Item, “a bass viol, with almost all the strings to it, and only a small hole on the back.”
Pounce. But nevertheless, sir——
Sir Har. This is the furniture of my brother’s bedchamber that follows:—“A suite of tapestry hangings, with the story of Judith and Holofernes, torn only where the head should have been off; an old bedstead, curiously wrought about the posts, consisting of two load of timber; a hone, a basin, three razors, and a comb-case”—Look ye, sir, you see I can item it.
Pounce. Alas, Sir Harry, if you had ten quire of items, ’tis all answered in the word retrospect.
Sir Har. Why then, Mr. Pounce and Mr. Tipkin, you are both rascals.
Tip. Do you call me rascal, Sir Harry?
Sir Har. Yes, sir.
Tip. Write it down, Mr. Pounce, at the end of the leaf.
Sir Har. If you have room, Mr. Pounce, put down “villain, son of a whore, curmudgeon, hunks, and scoundrel.”
Tip. Not so fast, Sir Harry, he cannot write so fast; you are at the word “villain”; “son of a whore,” I take it, was next—You may make the account as large as you please, Sir Harry.
Sir Har. Come, come, I won’t be used thus. Hark ye, sirrah, draw—what do you do at this end of the town without a sword? Draw, I say—
Tip. Sir Harry, you are a military man, a colonel of the Militia.
Sir Har. I am so, sirrah, and will run such an extorting dog as you through the guts, to show the Militia is useful.
Pounce. O dear, O dear! How am I concerned to see persons of your figure thus moved—The wedding is coming in, we’ll settle these things afterwards.
Tip. I am calm.
Sir Har. Tipkin, live these two hours, but expect—
Enter Humphry, leading Niece; Mrs. Clerimont, led by Fainlove; Captain Clerimont and Clerimont, Sen.
Pounce. Who are these? Hey-day, who are these, Sir Harry? Ha!
Sir Har. Some frolic, ’tis wedding-day; no matter.
Hump. Haw! haw! father, master uncle, come, you must stir your stumps, you must dance—Come, old lads, kiss the ladies.
Mrs. Cler. Mr. Tipkin, Sir Harry, I beg pardon for an introduction so malapropos; I know sudden familiarity is not the English way. Alas, Mr. Gubbin, this father and uncle of yours must be new modelled; how they stare, both of them!
Sir Har. Hark ye, Numps, who is this you have brought hither? is it not the famous fine lady, Mrs. Clerimont? What a pox did you let her come near your wife?
Hump. Look ye, don’t expose yourself, and play some mad country prank to disgrace me before her; I shall be laughed at, because she knows I understand better.
Mrs. Cler. I congratulate, madam, your coming out of the bondage of a virgin state. A woman can’t do what she will properly till she’s married.
Sir Har. Did you hear what she said to your wife?
Enter Aunt, before a service of Dishes.
Aunt. So, Mr. Bridegroom, pray take that napkin, and serve your spouse to-day, according to custom.
Hump. Mrs. Clerimont, pray know my aunt.
Mrs. Cler. Madam, I must beg your pardon; I can’t possibly like all that vast load of meat that you are sending in to table, besides, ’tis so offensively sweet, it wants that haut-goût we are so delighted with in France.100
Aunt. You’ll pardon it, since we did not expect you—Who is this? [Aside.
Mrs. Cler. Oh, madam, I only speak for the future; little saucers are so much more polite. Look ye, I’m perfectly for the French way; where’er I’m admitted, I take the whole upon me.
Sir Har. The French, madam, I’d have you to know——
Mrs. Cler. You’ll not like it at first, out of a natural English sullenness, but that will come upon you by degrees. When I first went into France I was mortally afraid of a frog, but in a little time I could eat nothing else, except salads.
Aunt. Eat frogs! have I kissed one that has ate frogs? Paw! paw!
Mrs. Cler. Oh, madam, a frog and a salad are delicious fare; ’tis not long come up in France itself, but their glorious monarch has introduced the diet which makes ’em so spiritual. He eradicated all gross food by taxes, and, for the glory of the monarch, sent the subject a-grazing—but I fear I defer the entertainment and diversion of the day.
Hump. Now father, uncle, before we go any further, I think ’tis necessary we know who and who’s together; then I give either of you two hours to guess which is my wife—and ’tis not my cousin; so far I’ll tell you.
Sir Har. How! What do you say? But oh! you mean she is not your cousin now, she’s nearer akin; that’s well enough. Well said, Numps; ha! ha! ha!
Hump. No, I don’t mean so; I tell you I don’t mean so—My wife hides her face under her hat. [All looking at Fainlove.
Tip. What does the puppy mean? His wife under a hat!
Hump. Ay, ay, that’s she, that’s she—A good jest, ‘faith!
Sir Har. Hark ye, Numps, what dost mean, child? Is that a woman, and are you really married to her?
Hump. I am sure of both.
Sir Har. Are you so, sirrah? then, sirrah, this is your wedding dinner, sirrah—Do you see, sirrah, here’s roast meat.
Hump. Oh, oh! what, beat a married man! Hold him, Mr. Clerimont, Brother Pounce, Mr. Wife; nobody stand by a young married man! [Runs behind Fainlove.
Sir Har. Did not the dog say Brother Pounce? what, is this Mrs. Ragout? this Madam Clerimont? Who the devil are you all? but especially who the devil are you two? [Beats Humphry and Fainlove off the Stage, following.
Tip. [To Pounce.] Master Pounce, all my niece’s fortune will be demanded now—for I suppose that red coat has her. Don’t you think you and I had better break?
Pounce. [To Tipkin.] You may as soon as you please, but ’tis my interest to be honest a little longer.
Tip. Well, Biddy, since you would not accept of your cousin, I hope you han’t disposed of yourself elsewhere.
Niece. If you’ll for a little while suspend your curiosity, you shall have the whole history of my amour to this my nuptial day, under the title of the loves of Clerimont and Parthenissa.
Tip. Then, madam, your portion is in safe hands.
Cler. Come, come, old gentleman, ’tis in vain to contend; here’s honest Mr. Pounce shall be my engineer, and I warrant you we beat you out of all your holds.
Aunt. What then, is Mr. Pounce a rogue?—He must have some trick, brother, it cannot be; he must have cheated t’other side, for I’m sure he’s honest. [Apart to Tipkin.
Cler. Sen. Mr. Pounce, all your sister has won of this lady she has honestly put into my hands; and I’ll return it her, at this lady’s particular request.
Pounce. And the thousand pounds you promised in your brother’s behalf, I’m willing should be hers also.
Cler. Sen. Then go in, and bring ’em all back to make the best of an ill game; we’ll eat the dinner and have a dance together, or we shall transgress all form.
Re-enter Fainlove, Humphry, and Sir Harry.
Sir Har. Well, since you say you are worth something, and the boy has set his heart upon you, I’ll have patience till I see further.
Pounce. Come, come, Sir Harry, you shall find my alliance more considerable than you imagine; the Pounces are a family that will always have money, if there’s any in the world—Come, fiddles.
[A Dance here.]
Cler. Sen.
You’ve seen th’ extremes of the domestic life,
A son too much confined—too free a wife;
By generous bonds you either should restrain,
And only on their inclinations gain;
Wives to obey must love, children revere,
While only slaves are governed by their fear.