No More Learning

Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of
what I read. For example, madam, my life is a perpetual stream of
pleasure, that glides through with such a variety of
entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had
the least conception of any of 'em. I rise, madam, when in town,
about twelve o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because it is the
worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend
to be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he
makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be
compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o'clock,
I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to take
the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my
boots by two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge
perhaps to the opera.
_Ber_. Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music?
_Lord Fop_. Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for
then there is always the best company, and one is not expected to
undergo the fatigue of listening.
_Aman_. Does your lordship think that the case at the opera?
_Lord Fop_. Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle,
my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and
my Lady Grin--these have boxes in the front, and while any
favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the
waurld, stap my vitals! --Mayn't we hope for the honour to see you
added to our society, madam?
_Aman_. Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world
at a concert, I'm so apt to attend to the music.
_Lord Fop_. Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the
country or at church, but a monstrous inattention in a polite
assembly. But I am afraid I tire the company?
_Love_. Not at all. Pray go on.
_Lord Fop_. Why then, ladies, there only remains to add,
that I generally conclude the evening at one or other of the
clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have been for some
time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting.
_Love_. But isn't your lordship sometimes obliged to attend
the weighty affairs of the nation?
_Lord Fop_. Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to
weighty heads; I never intend mine shall be a burden to my body.
_Ber. _ Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state.
_Lord Fop_. An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than
undergo any part of the fatigue, rat me, but the whole building
should fall plump to the ground!
_Aman_. But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal
of his time in his intrigues; you have given us no account of
them yet.
_Lord Fop. _ [_Aside_. ] So! she would inquire into my
amours--that's jealousy, poor soul! --I see she's in love with
me. --[_Aloud_. ] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a
secret I must need tell your ladyship. --Ned, you must not be so
jealous now as to listen.
_Love. _ [_Leading_ BERINTHIA _up the stage_. ] Not
I, my lord; I am too fashionable a husband to pry into the
secrets of my wife.
_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 passion. --An impudent fool!
_Lord Fop_. God'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 coxcomb 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 noble 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 title an authentic passport to every
woman's heart below the degree of a peeress.
_Col. Town_. He's coxcomb 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 lordship, which I have been
contriving with an old acquaintance of yours.
_Love_. Explain.
_Col. Town_. His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here,
and we have it in contemplation to save him the trouble of his
intended wedding: but we want your assistance.
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 gods! 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 assure 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 ass.
_Aman_. If this be their character, I fancy we had here,
e'en now, a pattern of 'em both.
_Ber_. His lordship and Colonel Townly?
_Aman_. The same.
_Ber_. As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the
other, I can assure 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.
_Ber_. Indeed I don't: but I consider I'm a woman, and form
my resolutions accordingly.
_Aman_. Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will,
matrimony will be the end on't.
_Ber_. I doubt it--but a--Heavens! I have business at home,
and am half an hour too late.
_Aman_. As you are to return with me, I'll just give some
orders, and walk with you.
_Ber_. Well, make haste, and we'll finish this subject as we
go--[_Exit_ AMANDA. ]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a
country life. Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once
false to me and treacherous to his friend! --And my innocent and
demure cousin too! I have it in my power to be revenged on her,
however. Her husband, if I have any skill in countenance, would
be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. I'll
make the experiment, come what will on't. The woman who can
forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an
idiot or a wanton. [_Exit_. ]




ACT III.

SCENE I. --LORD FOPPINGTON's _Lodgings.
Enter_ LORD FOPPINGTON, _and_ LA VAROLE.
_Lord Fop_. Hey, fellow, let thy vis-a-vis come to the door.
_La Var_. Will your lordship venture so soon to expose
yourself to the weather?
_Lord Fop_. Sir, I will venture as soon as I can expose
myself to the ladies.
_La Var_. I wish your lordship would please to keep house a
little longer; I'm afraid your honour does not well consider your
wound.
_Lord Fop_. My wound! --I would not be in eclipse another
day, though I had as many wounds in my body as I have had in my
heart. So mind, Varole, let these cards be left as directed; for
this evening I shall wait on my future father-in-law, Sir
Tunbelly, and I mean to commence my devoirs to the lady, by
giving an entertainment at her father's expense; and hark thee,
tell Mr. Loveless I request he and his company will honour me
with their presence, or I shall think we are not friends.
_La Var_. I will be sure, milor. [_Exit_. ]
_Enter_ TOM FASHION.
_Fash_. Brother, your servant; how do you find yourself to-day?
_Lord Fop_. So well that I have ardered my coach to the
door--so there's no danger of death this baut, Tam.
_Fash_. I'm very glad of it.
_Lord Fop_. [_Aside_. ] That I believe a lie. --
[_Aloud_. ] Pr'ythee, Tam, tell me one thing--did not your
heart cut a caper up to your mauth, when you heard I was run
through the bady?
_Fash_. Why do you think it should?
_Lord Fop_. Because I remember mine did so when I heard my
uncle was shot through the head.
_Fash_. It, then, did very ill.
_Lord Fop_. Pr'ythee, why so?
_Fash_. Because he used you very well.
_Lord Fop_. Well! --Naw, strike me dumb! he starved me; he
has let me want a thausand women for want of a thausand paund.
_Fash_. Then he hindered you from making a great many ill
bargains; for I think no woman worth money that will take money.
_Lord Fop_.