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　　ACT II

　　SCENE.—At Flint's.

　　FLINT. WILLIAM.

　　FLINT I have overwalked myself, and am quite exhausted. Tell Marian to come and play to me.

　　WILLIAM

　　I shall, Sir. [Exit.]

　　FLINT I have been troubled with an evil spirit of late; I think an evil spirit. It goes and comes, as my daughter is with or from me. It cannot stand before her gentle look, when, to please her father, she takes down her music-book. Enter William.

　　WILLIAM

　　Miss Marian went out soon after you, and is not returned.

　　FLINT

　　That is a pity—That is a pity. Where can the foolish girl be gadding?

　　WILLIAM

　　The shopmen say she went out with Mr. Davenport.

　　FLINT

　　Davenport? Impossible.

　　WILLIAM They say they are sure it was he, by the same token that they saw her slip into his hand, when she was past the door, the casket which you gave her.

　　FLINT Gave her, William! I only intrusted it to her. She has robbed me. Marian is a thief. You must go to the Justice, William, and get out a warrant against her immediately. Do you help them in the description. Put in "Marian Flint," in plain words—no remonstrances, William—"daughter of Reuben Flint,"—no remonstrances, but do it—

　　WILLIAM

　　Nay, sir—

　　FLINT I am rock, absolute rock, to all that you can say—A piece of solid rock.—What is it that makes my legs to fail, and my whole frame to totter thus? It has been my over walking. I am very faint. Support me in, William. [Exeunt]

　　SCENE.—The Apartment of Miss Flyn.

　　MISS FLYN. BETTY.

　　MISS FLYN 'Tis past eleven. Every minute I expect Mr. Pendulous here. What a meeting do I anticipate!

　　BETTY Anticipate, truly! what other than a joyful meeting can it be between two agreed lovers who have been parted these four months?

　　MISS FLYN But in that cruel space what accidents have happened!—(aside)—As yet I perceive she is ignorant of this unfortunate affair.

　　BETTY

　　Lord, madam, what accidents? He has not had a fall or a tumble, has he?

　　He is not coming upon crutches?

　　MISS FLYN Not exactly a fall—(aside)—I wish I had courage to admit her to my confidence.

　　BETTY

　　If his neck is whole, his heart is so too, I warrant it.

　　MISS FLYN His neck!—(aside)—She certainly mistrusts something. He writes me word that this must be his last interview.

　　BETTY Then I guess the whole business. The wretch is unfaithful. Some creature or other has got him into a noose.

　　MISS FLYN

　　A noose!

　　BETTY

　　And I shall never more see him hang——

　　MISS FLYN

　　Hang, did you say, Betty?

　　BETTY About that dear, fond neck, I was going to add, madam, but you interrupted me.

　　MISS FLYN I can no longer labour with a secret which oppresses me thus. Can you be trusty?

　　BETTY

　　Who, I, madam?—(aside)—Lord, I am so glad. Now I shall know all.

　　MISS FLYN This letter discloses the reason of his unaccountable long absence from me. Peruse it, and say if we have not reason to be unhappy.

　　(Betty retires to the window to read the letter, Mr. Pendulous enters.)

　　MISS FLYN

　　My dear Pendulous!

　　PENDULOUS Maria!—nay, shun the embraces of a disgraced man, who comes but to tell you that you must renounce his society for ever.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Nay, Pendulous, avoid me not.

　　PENDULOUS (Aside.) That was tender. I may be mistaken. Whilst I stood on honourable terms, Maria might have met my caresses without a blush.

　　(Betty, who has not attended to the entrance of Pendulous, through her eagerness to read the letter, comes forward.)

　　BETTY Ha! ha! ha! What a funny story, madam; and is this all you make such a fuss about? I should not care if twenty of my lovers had been—— (seeing Pendulous)—Lord, Sir, I ask pardon.

　　PENDULOUS

　　Are we not alone, then?

　　MISS FLYN

　　'Tis only Betty—my old servant. You remember Betty?

　　PENDULOUS

　　What letter is that?

　　MISS FLYN

　　O! something from her sweetheart, I suppose.

　　BETTY

　　Yes, ma'am, that is all. I shall die of laughing.

　　PENDULOUS

　　You have not surely been shewing her——

　　MISS FLYN I must be ingenuous. You must know, then, that I was just giving Betty a hint—as you came in.

　　PENDULOUS

　　A hint!

　　MISS FLYN

　　Yes, of our unfortunate embarrassment.

　　PENDULOUS

　　My letter!

　　MISS FLYN

　　I thought it as well that she should know it at first.

　　PENDULOUS 'Tis mighty well, madam. 'Tis as it should be. I was ordained to be a wretched laughing-stock to all the world; and it is fit that our drabs and our servant wenches should have their share of the amusement.

　　BETTY Marry come up! Drabs and servant wenches! and this from a person in his circumstances!

　　(Betty flings herself out of the room, muttering.)

　　MISS FLYN I understand not this language. I was prepared to give my Pendulous a tender meeting. To assure him, that however, in the eyes of the superficial and the censorious, he may have incurred a partial degradation, in the esteem of one, at least, he stood as high as ever. That it was not in the power of a ridiculous accident, involving no guilt, no shadow of imputation, to separate two hearts, cemented by holiest vows, as ours have been. This untimely repulse to my affections may awaken scruples in me, which hitherto, in tenderness to you, I have suppressed.

　　PENDULOUS I very well understand what you call tenderness, madam; but in some situations, pity—pity—is the greatest insult.

　　MISS FLYN I can endure no longer. When you are in a calmer mood, you will be sorry that you have wrung my heart so. [Exit.]

　　PENDULOUS Maria! She is gone—in tears. Yet it seems she has had her scruples. She said she had tried to smother them. Mermaid Betty intimated as much.

　　Re-enter Betty.

　　BETTY

　　Never mind Retty, sir; depend upon it she will never 'peach.

　　PENDULOUS

　　'Peach!

　　BETTY Lord, sir, these scruples will blow over. Go to her again, when she is in a better humour. You know we must stand off a little at first, to save appearances.

　　PENDULOUS

　　Appearances! we!

　　BETTY

　　It will be decent to let some time elapse.

　　PENDULOUS

　　Time elapse!

　　Lost, wretched Pendulous! to scorn betrayed,

　　The scoff alike of mistress and of maid!

　　What now remains for thee, forsaken man,

　　But to complete thy fate's abortive plan,

　　And finish what the feeble law began?

　　[Exeunt.]

　　Re-enter Miss Flyn, with Marian.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Now both our lovers are gone, I hope my friend will have less reserve.

　　You must consider this apartment as yours while you stay here. 'Tis

　　larger and more commodious than your own.

　　MARIAN You are kind, Maria. My sad story I have troubled you with. I have some jewels here, which I unintentionally brought away. I have only to beg, that you will take the trouble to restore them to my father; and, without disclosing my present situation, to tell him, that my next step—with or without the concurrence of Mr. Davenport—shall be to throw myself at his feet, and beg to be forgiven. I dare not see him till you have explored the way for me. I am convinced I was tricked into this elopement.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Your commands shall be obeyed implicitly.

　　MARIAN

　　You are good (agitated).

　　MISS FLYN Moderate your apprehensions, my sweet friend. I too have known my sorrows—(smiling).—You have heard of the ridiculous affair.

　　MARIAN Between Mr. Pendulous and you? Davenport informed me of it, and we both took the liberty of blaming the over-niceness of your scruples.

　　MISS FLYN You mistake. The refinement is entirely on the part of my lover. He thinks me not nice enough. I am obliged to feign a little reluctance, that he may not take quite a distaste to me. Will you believe it, that he turns my very constancy into a reproach, and declares, that a woman must be devoid of all delicacy, that, after a thing of that sort, could endure the sight of her husband in——

　　MARIAN

　　In what?

　　MISS FLYN

　　The sight of a man at all in——

　　MARIAN

　　I comprehend you not.

　　MISS FLYN

　　In—in a—(whispers)—night cap, my dear; and now the mischief is out.

　　MARIAN

　　Is there no way to cure him?

　　MISS FLYN None, unless I were to try the experiment, by placing myself in the hands of justice for a little while, how far an equality in misfortune might breed a sympathy in sentiment. Our reputations would be both upon a level, then, you know. What think you of a little innocent shop-lifting, in sport?

　　MARIAN And by that contrivance to be taken before a magistrate? the project sounds oddly.

　　MISS FLYN

　　And yet I am more than half persuaded it is feasible.

　　Enter Betty.

　　BETTY

　　Mr. Davenport is below, ma'am, and desires to speak with you.

　　MARIAN You will excuse me—(going—turning back.)—You will remember the casket? [Exit.]

　　MISS FLYN

　　Depend on me.

　　BETTY And a strange man desires to see you, ma'am. I do not half like his looks.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Shew him in.

　　(Exit Betty, and returns—with a Police Officer. Betty goes out.)

　　OFFICER

　　Your servant, ma'am. Your name is——

　　MISS FLYN

　　Flyn, sir. Your business with me?

　　OFFICER (Alternately surveying the lady and his paper of instructions.) Marian Flint.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Maria Flyn.

　　OFFICER Aye, aye, Flyn or Flint. 'Tis all one. Some write plain Mary, and some put ann after it. I come about a casket.

　　MISS FLYN I guess the whole business. He takes me for my friend. Something may come out of this. I will humour him.

　　OFFICER (Aside)—Answers the description to a tittle. "Soft, grey eyes, pale complexion,"——

　　MISS FLYN Yet I have been told by flatterers that my eyes were blue—(takes out a pocket-glass)—I hope I look pretty tolerably to-day.

　　OFFICER Blue!—they are a sort of blueish-gray, now I look better; and as for colour, that comes and goes. Blushing is often a sign of a hardened offender. Do you know any thing of a casket?

　　MISS FLYN

　　Here is one which a friend has just delivered to my keeping.

　　OFFICER And which I must beg leave to secure, together with your ladyship's person. "Garnets, pearls, diamond-bracelet,"—here they are, sure enough.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Indeed, I am innocent.

　　OFFICER

　　Every man is presumed so till he is found otherwise.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Police wit! Have you a warrant?

　　OFFICER Tolerably cool that! Here it is, signed by Justice Golding, at the requisition of Reuben Flint, who deposes that you have robbed him.

　　MISS FLYN

　　How lucky this turns out! (aside.)—Can I be indulged with a coach?

　　OFFICER To Marlborough Street? certainly—an old offender—(aside.) The thing shall be conducted with as much delicacy as is consistent with security.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Police manners! I will trust myself to your protection then. [Exeunt.]

　　SCENE.—Police-Office.

　　JUSTICE, FLINT, OFFICERS, &c.

　　JUSTICE Before we proceed to extremities, Mr. Flint, let me entreat you to consider the consequences. What will the world say to your exposing your own child?

　　FLINT The world is not my friend. I belong to a profession which has long brought me acquainted with its injustice. I return scorn for scorn, and desire its censure above its plaudits.

　　JUSTICE

　　But in this case delicacy must make you pause.

　　FLINT Delicacy—ha! ha!—pawnbroker—how fitly these words suit. Delicate pawnbroker—delicate devil—let the law take its course.

　　JUSTICE

　　Consider, the jewels are found.

　　FLINT 'Tis not the silly baubles I regard. Are you a man? are you a father? and think you I could stoop so low, vile as I stand here, as to make money—filthy money—of the stuff which a daughter's touch has desecrated? Deep in some pit first I would bury them.

　　JUSTICE

　　Yet pause a little. Consider. An only child.

　　FLINT Only, only,—there, it is that stings me, makes me mad. She was the only thing I had to love me—to bear me up against the nipping injuries of the world. I prate when I should act. Bring in your prisoner.

　　(The Justice makes signs to an Officer, who goes out, and returns with Miss Flyn.)

　　FLINT

　　What mockery of my sight is here? This is no daughter.

　　OFFICER

　　Daughter, or no daughter, she has confessed to this casket.

　　FLINT (Handling it.) The very same. Was it in the power of these pale splendours to dazzle the sight of honesty—to put out the regardful eye of piety and daughter-love? Why, a poor glow-worm shews more brightly. Bear witness how I valued them—(tramples on them).—Fair lady, know you aught of my child?

　　MISS FLYN

　　I shall here answer no questions.

　　JUSTICE

　　You must explain how you came by the jewels, madam.

　　MISS FLYN (Aside.) Now confidence assist me!——A gentleman in the neighbourhood will answer for me——

　　JUSTICE

　　His name——

　　MISS FLYN

　　Pendulous——

　　JUSTICE

　　That lives in the next street?

　　MISS FLYN

　　The same——now I have him sure.

　　JUSTICE Let him be sent for. I believe the gentleman to be respectable, and will accept his security.

　　FLINT Why do I waste my time, where I have no business? None—I have none any more in the world—none.

　　Enter Pendulous.

　　PENDULOUS

　　What is the meaning of this extraordinary summons?—Maria here?

　　FLINT

　　Know you any thing of my daughter, Sir?

　　PENDULOUS Sir, I neither know her nor yourself, nor why I am brought hither; but for this lady, if you have any thing against her, I will answer it with my life and fortunes.

　　JUSTICE

　　Make out the bail-bond.

　　OFFICER (Surveying Pendulous.) Please, your worship, before you take that gentleman's bond, may I have leave to put in a word?

　　PENDULOUS (Agitated.) I guess what is coming.

　　OFFICER

　　I have seen that gentleman hold up his hand at a criminal bar.

　　JUSTICE

　　Ha!

　　MISS FLYN (Aside.) Better and better.

　　OFFICER My eyes cannot deceive me. His lips quivered about, while he was being tried, just as they do now. His name is not Pendulous.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Excellent!

　　OFFICER

　　He pleaded to the name of Thomson at York assizes.

　　JUSTICE

　　Can this be true?

　　MISS FLYN

　　I could kiss the fellow!

　　OFFICER

　　He was had up for a footpad.

　　MISS FLYN

　　A dainty fellow!

　　PENDULOUS

　　My iniquitous fate pursues me everywhere.

　　JUSTICE

　　You confess, then.

　　PENDULOUS

　　I am steeped in infamy.

　　MISS FLYN

　　I am as deep in the mire as yourself.

　　PENDULOUS

　　My reproach can never be washed out.

　　MISS FLYN

　　Nor mine.

　　PENDULOUS

　　I am doomed to everlasting shame.

　　MISS FLYN

　　We are both in a predicament.

　　JUSTICE

　　I am in a maze where all this will end.

　　MISS FLYN But here comes one who, if I mistake not, will guide us out of all our difficulties.

　　Enter Marian and Davenport.

　　MARIAN (Kneeling.) My dear father!

　　FLINT

　　Do I dream?

　　MARIAN

　　I am your Marian.

　　JUSTICE

　　Wonders thicken!

　　FLINT

　　The casket—

　　MISS FLYN

　　Let me clear up the rest.

　　FLINT

　　The casket—

　　MISS FLYN Was inadvertently in your daughter's hand, when, by an artifice of her maid Lucy,—set on, as she confesses, by this gentleman here,—

　　DAVENPORT

　　I plead guilty.

　　MISS FLYN She was persuaded, that you were in a hurry going to marry her to an object of her dislike; nay, that he was actually in the house for the purpose. The speed of her flight admitted not of her depositing the jewels; but to me, who have been her inseparable companion since she quitted your roof, she intrusted the return of them; which the precipitate measures of this gentleman (pointing to the Officer) alone prevented. Mr. Cutlet, whom I see coming, can witness this to be true.

　　Enter Cutlet, in haste.

　　CUTLET Aye, poor lamb! poor lamb! I can witness. I have run in such a haste, hearing how affairs stood, that I have left my shambles without a protector. If your worship had seen how she cried (pointing to Marian), and trembled, and insisted upon being brought to her father. Mr. Davenport here could not stay her.

　　FLINT I can forbear no longer. Marian, will you play once again, to please your old father?

　　MARIAN I have a good mind to make you buy me a new grand piano for your naughty suspicions of me.

　　DAVENPORT

　　What is to become of me?

　　FLINT

　　I will do more than that. The poor lady shall have her jewels again.

　　MARIAN

　　Shall she?

　　FLINT Upon reasonable terms (smiling). And now, I suppose, the court may adjourn.

　　DAVENPORT

　　Marian!

　　FLINT I guess what is passing in your mind, Mr. Davenport; but you have behaved upon the whole so like a man of honour, that it will give me pleasure, if you will visit at my house for the future; but (smiling) not clandestinely, Marian.

　　MARIAN

　　Hush, father.

　　FLINT I own I had prejudices against gentry. But I have met with so much candour and kindness among my betters this day—from this gentleman in particular—(turning to the Justice)—that I begin to think of leaving off business, and setting up for a gentleman myself.

　　JUSTICE

　　You have the feelings of one.

　　FLINT

　　Marian will not object to it.

　　JUSTICE But (turning to Miss Flyn) what motive could induce this lady to take so much disgrace upon herself, when a word's explanation might have relieved her?

　　MISS FLYN

　　This gentleman (turning to Pendulous) can explain.

　　PENDULOUS

　　The devil!

　　MISS FLYN This gentleman, I repeat it, whose backwardness in concluding a long and honourable suit from a mistaken delicacy—

　　PENDULOUS

　　How!

　　MISS FLYN Drove me upon the expedient of involving myself in the same disagreeable embarrassments with himself, in the hope that a more perfect sympathy might subsist between us for the future.

　　PENDULOUS

　　I see it—I see it all.

　　JUSTICE (To Pendulous.) You were then tried at York?

　　PENDULOUS

　　I was—CAST—

　　JUSTICE

　　Condemned—

　　PENDULOUS EXECUTED.

　　JUSTICE

　　How?

　　PENDULOUS CUT DOWN and CAME TO LIFE AGAIN. False delicacy, adieu! The true sort, which this lady has manifested—by an expedient which at first sight might seem a little unpromising, has cured me of the other. We are now on even terms.

　　MISS FLYN

　　And may—

　　PENDULOUS

　　Marry,—I know it was your word.

　　MISS FLYN

　　And make a very quiet—

　　PENDULOUS

　　Exemplary—

　　MISS FLYN

　　Agreeing pair of—

　　PENDULOUS ACQUITTED FELONS.

　　FLINT And let the prejudiced against our profession acknowledge, that a money-lender may have the heart of a father; and that in the casket, whose loss grieved him so sorely, he valued nothing so dear as (turning to Marian) one poor domestic jewel.

　　THE WIFE'S TRIAL; OR, THE INTRUDING WIDOW

　　A DRAMATIC POEM

　　Founded on Mr. Crabbe's Tale of "The Confidant."

　　(1827)

　　CHARACTERS

　　MR. SELBY,—a Wiltshire Gentleman_.

　　KATHERINE, Wife to Selby.

　　LUCY, Sister to Selby.

　　MRS. FRAMPTON, a Widow.

　　SERVANTS.

　　SCENE.—At Mr. Selby's house, or in the grounds adjacent.

　　SCENE—A Library.

　　MR. SELBY, KATHERINE.

　　SELBY

　　Do not too far mistake me, gentlest wife;

　　I meant to chide your virtues, not yourself,

　　And those too with allowance. I have not

　　Been blest by thy fair side with five white years

　　Of smooth and even wedlock, now to touch

　　With any strain of harshness on a string

　　Hath yielded me such music. 'Twas the quality

　　Of a too grateful nature in my Katherine,

　　That to the lame performance of some vows,

　　And common courtesies of man to wife,

　　Attributing too much, hath sometimes seem'd

　　To esteem in favours, what in that blest union

　　Are but reciprocal and trivial dues,

　　As fairly yours as mine: 'twas this I thought

　　Gently to reprehend.

　　KATHERINE

　　In friendship's barter

　　The riches we exchange should hold some level,

　　And corresponding worth. Jewels for toys

　　Demand some thanks thrown in. You took me, sir,

　　To that blest haven of my peace, your bosom,

　　An orphan founder'd in the world's black storm.

　　Poor, you have made me rich; from lonely maiden,

　　Your cherish'd and your full-accompanied wife.

　　SELBY

　　But to divert the subject: Kate too fond,

　　I would not wrest your meanings; else that word

　　Accompanied, and full-accompanied too,

　　Might raise a doubt in some men, that their wives

　　Haply did think their company too long;

　　And over-company, we know by proof,

　　Is worse than no attendance.

　　KATHERINE

　　I must guess,

　　You speak this of the Widow—

　　SELBY

　　'Twas a bolt

　　At random shot; but if it hit, believe me,

　　I am most sorry to have wounded you

　　Through a friend's side. I know not how we have swerved

　　From our first talk. I was to caution you

　　Against this fault of a too grateful nature:

　　Which, for some girlish obligations past,

　　In that relenting season of the heart,

　　When slightest favours pass for benefits

　　Of endless binding, would entail upon you

　　An iron slavery of obsequious duty

　　To the proud will of an imperious woman.

　　KATHERINE

　　The favours are not slight to her I owe.

　　SELBY

　　Slight or not slight, the tribute she exacts

　　Cancels all dues—[A voice within.]

　　even now I hear her call you

　　In such a tone, as lordliest mistresses

　　Expect a slave's attendance. Prithee, Kate,

　　Let her expect a brace of minutes or so.

　　Say, you are busy. Use her by degrees

　　To some less hard exactions.

　　KATHERINE

　　I conjure you,

　　Detain me not. I will return—

　　SELBY

　　Sweet wife

　　Use thy own pleasure—[Exit Katherine.]

　　but it troubles me.

　　A visit of three days, as was pretended,

　　Spun to ten tedious weeks, and no hint given

　　When she will go! I would this buxom Widow

　　Were a thought handsomer! I'd fairly try

　　My Katherine's constancy; make desperate love

　　In seeming earnest; and raise up such broils,

　　That she, not I, should be the first to warn

　　The insidious guest depart.

　　Re-enter Katherine.

　　So soon return'd!

　　What was our Widow's will?

　　KATHERINE

　　A trifle, Sir.

　　SELBY

　　Some toilet service-to adjust her head,

　　Or help to stick a pin in the right place—

　　KATHERINE

　　Indeed 'twas none of these.

　　SELBY

　　or new vamp up

　　The tarnish'd cloak she came in. I have seen her

　　Demand such service from thee, as her maid,

　　Twice told to do it, would blush angry-red,

　　And pack her few clothes up. Poor fool! fond slave!

　　And yet my dearest Kate!—This day at least

　　(It is our wedding-day) we spend in freedom,

　　And will forget our Widow.—Philip, our coach—

　　Why weeps my wife? You know, I promised you

　　An airing o'er the pleasant Hampshire downs

　　To the blest cottage on the green hill side,

　　Where first I told my love. I wonder much,

　　If the crimson parlour hath exchanged its hue

　　For colours not so welcome. Faded though it be,

　　It will not shew less lovely than the tinge

　　Of this faint red, contending with the pale,

　　Where once the full-flush'd health gave to this cheek

　　An apt resemblance to the fruit's warm side,

　　That bears my Katherine's name.—

　　Our carriage, Philip.

　　Enter a Servant.

　　Now, Robin, what make you here?

　　SERVANT

　　May it please you,

　　The coachman has driven out with Mrs. Frampton.

　　SELBY

　　He had no orders—

　　SERVANT

　　None, Sir, that I know of,

　　But from the lady, who expects some letter

　　At the next Post Town.

　　SELBY

　　Go, Robin.

　　[Exit Servant.]

　　How is this?

　　KATHERINE

　　I came to tell you so, but fear'd your anger—

　　SELBY

　　It was ill done though of this Mistress Frampton,

　　This forward Widow. But a ride's poor loss

　　Imports not much. In to your chamber, love,

　　Where you with music may beguile the hour,

　　While I am tossing over dusty tomes,

　　Till our most reasonable friend returns.

　　KATHERINE

　　I am all obedience. [Exit Katherine]

　　SELBY

　　Too obedient, Kate,

　　And to too many masters. I can hardly

　　On such a day as this refrain to speak

　　My sense of this injurious friend, this pest,

　　This household evil, this close-clinging fiend,

　　In rough terms to my wife. 'Death! my own servants

　　Controll'd above me! orders countermanded!'

　　What next? _[Servant enters and announces the Sister]

　　Enter Lucy.

　　Sister! I know you are come to welcome

　　This day's return. 'Twas well done.

　　LUCY

　　You seem ruffled.

　　In years gone by this day was used to be

　　The smoothest of the year. Your honey turn'd

　　So soon to gall?

　　SELBY

　　Gall'd am I, and with cause,

　　And rid to death, yet cannot get a riddance,

　　Nay, scarce a ride, by this proud Widow's leave.

　　LUCY

　　Something you wrote me of a Mistress Frampton.

　　SELBY

　　She came at first a meek admitted guest,

　　Pretending a short stay; her whole deportment

　　Seem'd as of one obliged. A slender trunk,

　　The wardrobe of her scant and ancient clothing,

　　Bespoke no more. But in a few days her dress,

　　Her looks, were proudly changed. And now she flaunts it

　　In jewels stolen or borrow'd from my wife;

　　Who owes her some strange service, of what nature

　　I must be kept in ignorance. Katherine's meek

　　And gentle spirit cowers beneath her eye,

　　As spell-bound by some witch.

　　LUCY

　　Some mystery hangs on it.

　　How bears she in her carriage towards yourself?

　　SELBY

　　As one who fears, and yet not greatly cares

　　For my displeasure. Sometimes I have thought,

　　A secret glance would tell me she could love,

　　If I but gave encouragement. Before me

　　She keeps some moderation; but is never

　　Closeted with my wife, but in the end

　　I find my Katherine in briny tears.

　　From the small chamber, where she first was lodged,

　　The gradual fiend by specious wriggling arts

　　Has now ensconced herself in the best part

　　Of this large mansion; calls the left wing her own;

　　Commands my servants, equipage.—I hear

　　Her hated tread. What makes she back so soon?

　　Enter Mrs. Frampton.

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　O, I am jolter'd, bruised, and shook to death,

　　With your vile Wiltshire roads. The villain Philip

　　Chose, on my conscience, the perversest tracks,

　　And stoniest hard lanes in all the county,

　　Till I was fain get out, and so walk back,

　　My errand unperform'd at Andover.

　　LUCY

　　And I shall love the knave for ever after.

　　[Aside.]

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　A friend with you!

　　SELBY

　　My eldest sister, Lucy,

　　Come to congratulate this returning morn.—

　　Sister, my wife's friend, Mistress Frampton.

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　Pray

　　Be seated. For your brother's sake, you are welcome.

　　I had thought this day to have spent in homely fashion

　　With the good couple, to whose hospitality

　　I stand so far indebted. But your coming

　　Makes it a feast.

　　LUCY

　　She does the honours naturally—[Aside.]

　　SELBY

　　As if she were the mistress of the house—[Aside.]

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　I love to be at home with loving friends.

　　To stand on ceremony with obligations,

　　Is to restrain the obliger. That old coach, though,

　　Of yours jumbles one strangely.

　　SELBY

　　I shall order

　　An equipage soon, more easy to you, madam—

　　LUCY

　　To drive her and her pride to Lucifer,

　　I hope he means. [Aside.]

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　I must go trim myself; this humbled garb

　　Would shame a wedding feast. I have your leave

　　For a short absence?—and your Katherine—

　　SELBY

　　You'll find her in her closet—

　　MRS. FRAMPTON

　　Fare you well, then. [Exit.]

　　SELBY

　　How like you her assurance?

　　LUCY

　　Even so well,

　　That if this Widow were my guest, not yours,

　　She should have coach enough, and scope to ride.

　　My merry groom should in a trice convey her

　　To Sarum Plain, and set her down at Stonehenge,

　　To pick her path through those antiques at leisure;

　　She should take sample of our Wiltshire flints.

　　O, be not lightly jealous! nor surmise,

　　That to a wanton bold-faced thing like this

　　Your modest shrinking Katherine could impart

　　Secrets of any worth, especially

　　Secrets that touch'd your peace. If there be aught,

　　My life upon't, 'tis but some girlish story

　　Of a First Love; which even the boldest wife

　　Might modestly deny to a husband's ear,

　　Much more your timid and too sensitive Katherine.

　　SELBY

　　I think it is no more; and will dismiss

　　My further fears, if ever I have had such.

　　LUCY

　　Shall we go walk? I'd see your gardens, brother;

　　And how the new trees thrive, I recommended.

　　Your Katherine is engaged now—

　　SELBY

　　I'll attend you. [Exeunt.]

　　SCENE.—Servants' Hall.

　　HOUSEKEEPER, PHILIP, and OTHERS, laughing.

　　HOUSEKEEPER

　　Our Lady's guest, since her short ride, seems ruffled,

　　And somewhat in disorder. Philip, Philip,

　　I do suspect some roguery. Your mad tricks

　　Will some day cost you a good place, I warrant.

　　PHILIP

　　Good Mistress Jane, our serious housekeeper,

　　And sage Duenna to the maids and scullions,

　　We must have leave to laugh; our brains are younger,

　　And undisturb'd with care of keys and pantries.

　　We are wild things.

　　BUTLER

　　Good Philip, tell us all.

　　ALL

　　Ay, as you live, tell, tell—

　　PHILIP

　　Mad fellows, you shall have it.

　　The Widow's bell rang lustily and loud—

　　BUTLER

　　I think that no one can mistake her ringing.

　　WAITING-MAID

　　Our Lady's ring is soft sweet music to it,

　　More of entreaty hath it than command.

　　PHILIP

　　I lose my story, if you interrupt me thus.

　　The bell, I say, rang fiercely; and a voice,

　　More shrill than bell, call'd out for "Coachman Philip."

　　I straight obey'd, as 'tis my name and office.

　　"Drive me," "h she, "to the next market town,

　　Where I have hope of letters." I made haste.

　　Put to the horses, saw her safely coach'd,

　　And drove her—

　　WAITING-MAID

　　—By the straight high-road to Andover,

　　I guess—

　　PHILIP

　　Pray, warrant things within your knowledge,

　　Good Mistress Abigail; look to your dressings,

　　And leave the skill in horses to the coachman.

　　BUTLER

　　He'll have his humour; best not interrupt him.

　　PHILIP

　　'Tis market-day, thought I; and the poor beasts,

　　Meeting such droves of cattle and of people,

　　May take a fright; so down the lane I trundled,

　　Where Goodman Dobson's crazy mare was founder'd,

　　And where the flints were biggest, and ruts widest,

　　By ups and downs, and such bone-cracking motions,

　　We flounder'd on a furlong, till my madam,

　　In policy, to save the few joints left her,

　　Betook her to her feet, and there we parted.

　　ALL

　　Ha! ha! ha!

　　BUTLER

　　Hang her! 'tis pity such as she should ride.

　　WAITING-MAID

　　I think she is a witch; I have tired myself out

　　With sticking pins in her pillow; still she 'scapes them—

　　BUTLER

　　And I with helping her to mum for claret,

　　But never yet could cheat her dainty palate.

　　HOUSEKEEPER

　　Well, well, she is the guest of our good Mistress,

　　And so should be respected. Though I think

　　Our Master cares not for her company,

　　He would ill brook we should express so much,

　　By rude discourtesies, and short attendance,

　　Being but servants. (A bell rings furiously.) 'Tis her bell

　　speaks now;

　　Good, good, bestir yourselves: who knows who's wanted?

　　BUTLER

　　But 'twas a merry trick of Philip coachman. [Exeunt.] The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4