T Dorn. Why-Yes-I am, I believe, one of his oldest acquaintance. Widow. Then I dare say you have a great regard for him? Dorn. Hem!-Yes-I-had a-sort of a friendship for him even before he was born. Widow. Sir!-Oh!-You are intimate with the family? Dorn. Yes yes, madam! Widow. And know his father?. Dorn. Um-[Shrugs.] Why--though I have kept him company from the day of his birth to this very hour, they tell me I don't know him yet! Widow. Ay, indeed! Is he so odd? Dorn. Sometimes to my great regret, I have sometimes found him a very absurd old gentleman! Widow. I am sorry for it!-Because as I am soon to become hymeneally-his intimate-relation-I —I— [Maidenly affectation. Dorn. You would wish for a sensible, indulgent [Smiles. [Simpering. Dorn. Ha! I dare not say too much in his favour. Widow. Nay, though I have a vast-hum-haregard for young Mr Dornton-I own I have no great predilection of opinion for the father! [Nodding very significantly. Dorn. [Suddenly.] Nor he for you, madam! Widow. Do you think so? Dorn. I am sure so! Widow. I warrant, sir, he is, as you say, a very precise, acrimonious person!-A tetchy repugnant kind of old gentleman! Dorn. I said no such thing, madam! Widow. Ah!--A little caution, sir, to be sure, becomes gentlemen of your cloth. Dorn. Cloth again!-I don't know what you mean by my cloth; but Mr Dornton, madam, is little older . than yourself: nor does he think himself half so re pugnant. Widow. Sir! Dorn. [Recollecting himself.] Madam !-I-I beg your pardon !—I— [Bowing. Widow. [Knocking heard.] Oh! Here, I dare say, comes the bridegroom! [Enraptured: crosses to the door. Dorn. [Aside.] My cursed vivacity! I can never tell her after this who I am. [Walks up the stage. Enter HARRY DORNTON, in Haste. Widow. O, you rover! Harry. Well, my kind Widow! [MR DORNTON turns quick round at hearing his son's voice, and gradually approaches.] My loving compassionate Widow! I am come post haste to cast myself once more on your bounty! Widow. Hush! Harry. To entreat instant commiseration and aid! Harry. I have not a minute to spare! [Aloud. Widow. [Whisper.] He's here! He's come! A waspish, tetchy-! Hem!-[Aloud.] Your friend has been here some time, Mr Dornton. Harry. My friend? What friend? [Pointing to MR Dornton. Harry. Clergyman!-You-[Turning, sees his father at his elbow.]-My father! Widow. His father! [Pause. Dorn. Well, Harry, why do you look so blank? I am glad you are here-Your coming, and the mutual sincerity with which this lady and I have just spoken our sentiments, will save all circumlocution-At present we understand each other. Widow. Sir-I Dorn. O, madam, never retract-Let us continue the like plain honest dealing Widow. But-Sir-Mr Dornton's affection Harry. Sir [Pitying her delusion. Dorn. Harry-I know your motives! Will never forget them! But the cause of them has ceased. Harry. Sir!-Beware! No false compassion! Remember not the vile reprobate that was your son! I spurn at existence that is coupled with your misery! Dorn. Harry! Our danger is over. Harry. Are you are you serious? Dorn. Mr Sulky is a worthy man! His rich uncle is dead, and has left him sole heir. Our books too have been examined, and exceed our best hopes. Harry. Tol de rol Dorn. Here is your money, madam. Harry. My father saved!-Tol de rol!-- [Ready to cry. Dorn. I must beg you will take it Harry. Rejoice, Widow! Rejoice! Sing, shout! Tol de rol! Widow. I do not want the money, sir! Filthy money-[Whimpering restrained.] And as to what I said, though you have arrested Mr Milford Harry. Ha! [Starts, considers, and looks at his watch. Widow. I am sorry-I beg your pardon-And if Mr Dornton Dorn. Why don't you speak, Harry? Where are you going? [HARRY DORNTON crosses hastily to the door. Come back, Harry!-Stay, I say! Harry. I cannot stay!I must fly!-My honour is at stake? [Exit. Dorn. [Alarmed.] His honour!-His honour at stake! Here, here, madam !-' H Offering her bank-bills. Widow. Nay, sir— Dorn. 'Sdeath, madam, take your money! [Exit. Widow. [Sobbing.] Cruel-usage !-Faithlessmen-Blind-Stupid!-I'll forsake and forswear the whole sex! Enter JENNY with Glee, on Tip-toe, as if she had been on the Watch. Jenny. Ma'am. Widow. [Sobbing.] Savage race! Jenny. Ma'am, ma'am! Mr Goldfinch, ma'am ! Widow. Eh! Mr Goldfinch?-Was that what you said, Jenny? [Brightens up.] Where? Jenny. Below, ma'am. I persuaded him to come up, but he is quite surly. Widow. Oh! He is coming? Well! I think I will see him-Yes-I think I will. Jenny. I always told you, ma'am, Mr Goldfinch for me. Widow. Did you? Jenny. But he says he will have your written promise this very night, or never speak to you moreI hear him. [Adjusting the WIDOW's dress.] Law, ma'am, you had better give a few touches-Hereabout! Your eyes will have double the spirit and fire. Widow. Will they? [Exit. Enter GOLDFINCH, Gold. Where's the Dowager? Jenny. Hush! Mind what I said to you-It is too late now for a licence, so be sure get the promiseDon't flinch! Gold. Me flinch? Game to the back-bone! Re-enter the WIDOW WARREN. Gold. Here I am once more, Widow. Widow. Ah, rambler! Gold. Are you cured of the tantarums ? Gold. Must I keep my distance? Gold. Am I a gentleman now? Gold. Look you, Widow, I know your tricksSkittish! Won't answer the whip! Run out of the course! Take the rest!-So give me your promise. Widow. My promise!-- Gold. Signed and sealed. Widow. Naughty man-You sha'n't-I won't let you tyrannize over a palpitating heart! Gold. Palpi-[To JENNY.] What does she say? Widow. You sha'n't steal on hymeneal transports. Gold. What's that? Widow. Connubial ecstacies! Gold. Nu-What? Widow. Go, intruder! Gold. Oh! what, you won't? Widow. I'll never forgive you. Gold. I'm off. Widow. Cruel man! Gold. I'm off. Widow. Mr Goldfinch! Gold. I'm off. Widow. You shall have the promise! Gold. Oh, ho! Why then, I pull up [Calling. Widow. Barbarous youth! Could you leave me?But I must send to Mr Silky. Gold. No, no! Let me have the promise directly! I'll go myself to Silky. Widow. Will you, Mr Goldfinch? Gold. Will I not?-Take a hack, mount the boxHayait! Scud away for the old scoundrel! I'm a deep one! Know the course every, inch! I'm the lad for a widow! That's your sort! |