Chapters 3
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1 00 - Prolog 14:28
Prologue. Dramatis personae for the prologue. Rattle.
Smart.
Dolman. The stage directions, read by Mary Ann. The curtain rises and discovers the stage disposed in the form of a pit and crowded with actors who make a great noise by whistling and knocking for the farce to begin. Consume them. Why don't they begin? I suppose some of them that were in the play are dressing for the farce. Pshaw, damn the farce. They've had time enough to dress since the play's been over. Dick Rattle, you were at the boxing match yesterday. No, my dear. I was at the breakfasting at Ranley. Curse catch me, Jack, if that's not a fine woman in the upper box there. Ha! So she is, by all that's charming. But the poor creature's married. It's all over with her. Smart. Do you go to Newmarket this meeting?
Upon my soul, that's a lovely woman on the right hand. But what the devil can this prologue be about, I can't imagine? It has puzzled the whole town. Depend upon it, Dick. It is as I said. What's that? Why, one of the Franziks, the French Harlequin's jokes, You will find that one of the players comes upon the stage presently, and make an apology that they are disappointed of the prologue, upon which Macklin or some other actor is to start up in the pit as one of the audience, and bawl out that rather than so much good company should be disappointed, he will speak a prologue himself. No, no, no, smart, that's not it. I thought of that, and have been looking carefully all over the pit, and there's not an actor in it.
Now I fancy it is to be done like the Wall or the Man in the Moon, in Pyramus and Thisbe. Macklin will come in dressed like the pit, and say, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am the Pit, and a prologue I'll speak if you think fit. Ha ha ha! By gadrattle, I fancy you have hit it. What do you think, Mr. Dolman? Mr. Brown. Aye, let us have Mr. Dolman's opinion of it. Mr. Brown. Why, really, gentlemen, I have been thinking of it ever since I first read it in the papers. And I fancy, though to be sure it was very difficult to find out, but at last I think I have hit upon it. Mr. Brown. Well, well, my dear Dolman, communicate. Mr. Brown. I suppose there is some person here among us whose name is Pitt, and that he will get up presently and speak a prologue.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, shocking, shocking! Well conjectured, doll man. Harky Jack, let's bam the Irishman, ask him if he knows anything of it. Don't you laugh, then. He'll smoke us if you do. Keep your countenance, and I'll engage, I'll pitch-kettle him. Pray, sir, do you know anything of this prologue? Who? Me? Not upon my honor. I know no more of it than he that made it. A gentleman was saying, just before the play was over, that you were to be the pit, and to speak the prologue. Is there any truth in it, sir? No, indeed, sir. It is as false as the gospel. I do assure you, sir, I never spoke a pit or prologue in my life. But once, when I was at school, you must know, sir, we acted one of Terence's tragedies there.
So when the play was over, I spoke the prologue of it. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! I remember your face very well. Pray, sir, don't you belong to the law? Yes, at your service, sir. And so did my father and grandfather before me, and all my posterity. I myself solicit calls at the Old Bailey and Hicks Hall. So I am come to see this bone for the lawyers, because they say it is a pun upon us gentlemen of the long robe. Ha ha ha! He is a poor ridiculous fellow, Jack. Aside. He is as great a teag as Barrington himself. Hush, hush. Pray, sir, may I crave your name? Yes, you may indeed, and welcome, sir. My name is Lachlan Bull Roderi, Maxholin Bull Downie, at your service. And if you have any friend who is indicted for robbery or murder at any time, or has any other lawsuits upon his hands at the Old Bailey or Hicks Hall, I should be proud to serve you, and to be concerned in the cause likewise.
Whenever I have a friend in such circumstances, you may depend upon being retained. Sir, I'll assure you no megrim. England understands the practice of those courts better than myself. I know my croaker upon all the in res, and, for an evidence, the devil of a man in Westminster Hall can tell an evidence what to say better than I that shits here. Or, hark you, if you should happen to want a witness upon occasion, I believe, sir, I could serve you. I am infinitely obliged to you. Bowing. Sir, I am your most obsequious. Bowing. But pray, sir, what kind of prologue do you think we shall have tonight? Why, I believe it will be a kind of prologue that will be spoken by the Pit. Aye, that we suppose.
But in what manner? Why, I am come here on purpose to know that. But I suppose it will be in the manner of a... by my shoal. I don't know how it will be. Mr. Brown. Upon my word, sir, I think you give a very clear account of it. Jack, yonder's Snarlwit, the poet and intimate friend of Macklin's, you are acquainted with him. Writhee call him ten to one, but he can give us the history both of the prologue and the farce. Hiss, Mr. Snarlwit. We have room for you here, if you will come and set by us. Do you know Snarlwit, Dick? He is a devilish odd fellow. He is one that never speaks well of any man behind his back, nor ill of him to his face, and is a most terrible critic. Snarlwit steps over the benches and sits down between Rattle and Smart.
Mr. Smart, your servant. How do you do, Mr. Rattle? What, you are come to hear the pit speak the prologue, I suppose? Ha! Macklin's fine conceit. Aye, we are so. Do you know anything of it? Pshaw, pshaw! A parcel of stuff! A ridiculous conceit of the blockheads in imitation of a French writer who stole it from one of the Greek comic poets. But in what manner is it to be done? Is it in prose, or in verse, or upon the stage, or really in the pit? Lord, sir, the blockhead brings the pit upon the stage, and the supposed conversation there between the play and the farce is to be the prologue. A French conceit calculated merely to raise curiosity and fill the house, that's all. Aye, and enough, too, if it answers his purpose.
But pray, sir, with humble submission, if he brings the pit up on the stage, how shall we be able to see the farce unless we go up into the gallery? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Very well observed, sir. Why, this fellow's an idiot. No, no, he is only a tig. But Mr. Snarlwit, Do you think this prologue will be liked? Pshaw! Pshaw! Liked! Impossible! So it is for his wife's benefit, and meant as a puff, to fill her house. Why, perhaps the town may be so indulgent as to let it pass, but it is damned trash. I advised the fool against it, but he persisted. He said he was sure it would be better liked than the modern dull way of prologue writing, which for many years has been only to give the audience an historical account of the comic stoic or the tragic buskin, or a dull detail of the piece they were to see with the age and circumstances of the author, and how long he was writing his play.
Now, says Macklin, my prologue, sir, if it has nothing else, it has novelty on its side. And as Bayes says, it will elevate and surprise and all that. And if they don't laugh at it as a good prologue, I am sure, says he, they will laugh at me for its being a bad one, so that either way they will have their joke. Ha! Ha! Ha! Aye, aye, there, I think he was right, for the audience will laugh, I make no doubt of it, but it will be at him. Right, right! So I told him, but he would persist. But Mr. Snarlwit, how will he answer to the critics his making the stage represent the pit? Pshaw, pshaw! He is below criticism. They will never trouble themselves about that. Besides, I think he may be defended very justly in that, for if the stage has a right to present palaces and countries, nay, and heaven and hell, surely it may be allowed to exhibit the pit.
Do you know anything of the farce? Yes, I have read it. It is a very odd title, a bone for the lawyers. Who is the author, pray, is it known? Why, Macklin gives out that some gentleman, a friend of his, has made him a present of it, but I shrewdly suspect it to be his own. Who's Macklin's? Aye. Why, can he write? Write? Aye, and damnably, too, I assure you. Ha! Ha! He rid a tragedy this winter, but so merry a tragedy was never seen since the first night of Tom Thumb the Great. I was at it, and a merry tragedy it was, and a merry audience. I never laughed so heartily at a play in my life. If his farce has half so much fun in it as his tragedy had, I'll engage it succeeds. Come, come, there was some tolerable things in his tragedy.
Pshaw, pshaw! Stuff, stuff! Damned stuff! Pray, sir, what do you think of Lady Catherine Gordon's letter to her father, Lord Huntley, that begun, Honoured Papa, hoping you are in good health, as I am at this present writing? There was style for tragedy. Ha! Ha! Ha! Well— I wish his farce may succeed, however. Oh, so do I, upon my word, sir. I have a great regard for Macklin. But to be sure, he is a very egregious blockhead ever to think of writing. That I believe everybody will allow. Aye, aye, then nobody will dispute that with you, Mr. Smallwood. Notwithstanding he is such a blockhead, I assure you, Mr. Smart, I have an esteem for him. Do you know what characters or business he has in his farce?
I think his chief character is an old fellow, one Sir Isaac Skinflint, who is eaten up with diseases, and who promises everybody legacies, but dreads making a will. For the instant he does that, he thinks he shall die. That's a very common character. My uncle was just such a superstitious wretch. And the business of the farce is to induce this old fellow to disinherit all his relations, except a nephew who wants to be his sole heir, which, according to the rules of farce, you may suppose it to be brought about by a footman, who upon these occasions always has more wit than his master. But when is the prologue to begin? Why, as soon as the curtain is drawn up, you will see the stage disposed in the form of a pit, and that you are to imagine the prologue, And when they let the curtain down, why then you must suppose it to be ended.
I wonder what the audience will say when it is over. What? Why, some will stare and wonder what the actors have been about, and will still be expecting the prologue. Others will chuckle at their disappointment and cry they knew how it would be. And some will judiciously observe. What better could be expected from a prologue to be written and spoken by the pit? But upon the whole, I dare say, ninety-nine in a hundred will conclude it to be a parcel of low stuff, and that its only merit was the quaintness of the conceit which raised the people's curiosity and helped to fill the house. And so ends the prologue. And now let us make a noise for the farce. The curtain is let down. End of prologue.
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2 01 - Act 1 31:04
Dramatis Personae for A Will and No Will, or A Bone for the Lawyers. Sir Isaac Skidflint, read by Larry Wilson.
Read by Todd. Dr. Leatherhead. Read by Beth Thomas. Counselor Cormorant. Read by Alan Mapstone. Mr. Littlewit. Read by Zames Curran. Monsieur Dumègre. Read by Carol Eads King. Mr. Death. Read by Alan Mapstone. Shock.
Servant.
Lady Lovewell.
Harriet. Elizabeth Klatt. Lucy. Tricia Gee. The Stage Directions. Marianne. Act One. Enter Shark and Lucy. Meeting. Good morning, Lucy. Good morrow, Shark. Give me a kiss, Hussie. Pshaw, prithee, don't tuzzle and muzzle a body so. Can't you salute without rumbling one's tucker and spoiling one's things? I hate to be tumbled. Adjusting herself. Aye, as much as you do flattery or a looking-glass. Well, what's your business this morning? Have you any message? Yes, the old one, my master's duty to his gracious uncle, Sir Isaac Skinflint, and he hopes he rested well last night. That is, to translate it out of the language of compliment into that of sincerity, and he hopes the old hunks has made his will, my master his sole heir, that he has had a very bad night, and is within a few hours of giving up the ghost, and paying a visit to his old friend Beelzebub.
We were afraid he would have gone off last night. He has had two of his epileptic feasts. Why, sure, the old cannibal would not offer to make his exit without making his will. That would ruin us all. Nay, it would be a considerable loss to me, should he die without a will, for you know he has promised me a handsome legacy. And so he has to a thousand, my dear. "'Why, child, I don't believe he has spent thirty shillings upon himself in food for these thirty years. All gratis, all upon the sponge. Ay, ay, let Sir Isaac Skinflint alone for mumbling a dinner. There has not been a churchwarden's or an overseas feast these twenty years, but what he has been at. And when he is not at these Irish meals, he is preying upon his friends and acquaintances, and promises them all legacies.' "'Well,' he says, after he has filled his ponch.
"'I shall not forget you. I shall remember all my friends. I have you down in my will.' Then he claps his hand upon the servant's head, as he is going out. "'I shall think of you too, John. You are my old friend.' "'But the devil a-loose he gives him.' "'An old gouty rogue.' "'I'll warrant the old hypocrite has promised more legacies than the Bank of England is able to pay.' Has he made any mention lately of his nephew and niece in the country, Sir Roger Bumper and his sister? He expects them in town to-day, or to-morrow at farthest, and I believe he intends to make them joint heirs with your master. He may intend it, but shall not accomplish it, take my word. If he does, I'll never plot again.
You say he has never seen neither the nephew nor the niece since they were children? Never! Then he shall see them in proper person before he sleeps, and if I don't make him disinherit them, say I am a fool and know nothing of mankind. Mr. Brown, here your master comes. Mr. Brown. He's welcome. Enter Belair. Oh, Lucy! We are all undone! Mr. Brown, bless us! What's the matter, sir? Mr. Brown, I am just come from my lady Lovewell's. Who, to my great surprise! has assured me that my addresses to her daughter for the future will be highly improper, for that my uncle has not only refused to make such a settlement on me as she liked, but had resolved to marry Harriet himself. Pray, sir, what says the young lady to all this?
She seems to comply with her mother's avaricious temper, but has vowed to me privately that should matters be brought to an extremity, She would never consent. "'You, sir, must act the same part. Seem to approve of the marriage by all means, for the more you oppose, the more violent they will be. Trust the affair to Shark and me, and I'll engage we bring you together, in spite of age and avarice. I'll give the young lady a hint or two, which I believe will cure the old fellow of his love-fit. Shark, you go and prepare your disguises. Do you act the nephew and the niece well, and I'll warrant everything else shall thrive. Exit Shark. Dear girl! The moment my affairs are brought to bear, you may depend upon the five hundred pounds I promised you.
Is my uncle up yet? He has been up this hour. Here he comes. Be sure you comply with him. Let him say what he will. Enter Skinflint. Dressed in a nightgown, a fur nightcap, His hands muffled in a flannel, his feet in gouty shoes. A good morning to you, sir. A good morning to you, nephew.
I am sorry to hear, sir. You have had so bad a night. I had indeed, nephew. I was afraid it was all over. Such another fit would carry me off.
But you are pretty well this morning, I hope, sir. Something better, but very weak. Very faint indeed, nephew. Oh, oh, very faint. You should take something comfortable, sir. Cordials, to repair the breaches your illness hath made. Lord nephew, it would require such a monstrous deal of money. And really, these syringe-carriers, and glycer bags, and doctors give themselves such airs that a man can't have their assistance, nor any of their drugs and slops under their weight in gold. Therefore, I think, nephew, since we are to die, we had better save our money. I grant you, sir, the fees of surgeons and physicians are exorbitant. Yet, as health and life are our most valuable blessings, we may lay a little out in support of them—I mean in cases of very great danger.
No, no, the, ah—ah—tenement is not worth the repairs. Ah—I—I am like an old house that is ready to drop. The first high wind down I shall go. The next fit will carry me off. Heaven forbid, sir! Therefore I am resolved, ah, to settle my affairs this very day. You know, nephew, you are talking of Harriet, my lady Lovewell's daughter. But my lady truly will not consent to the match, unless I make you my sole heir, which you know, child, cannot be, as I have another nephew and a niece. Sir Roger Bumper and his sister, whom I intend to provide for. Very true, sir. And so, Harry, as my lady and I should not hit it off in regard to you, she hath persuaded me to marry the girl myself. What is your judgment of it, nephew, huh?
If you like it, sir, there can be no objection to it. Enter a servant. Sir, there is Mr. Littlewit, the proctor. Come to know your commands. Desire him to walk in. Exit servant. Enter Mr. Littlewit. So, Mr. Littlewit, I have sent for you upon a business which will perhaps surprise you. It is to draw up my marriage articles. What, between you and death, I suppose? Your will, I reckon you mean? Dear Mr. Littlewit, your jest is very ill-timed. I mean, sir, my marriage articles with Harriet Love-Wealth, and at the same time I intend to make my will too. Here are the directions in this paper for both, and let them be drawn up as soon as possible, and looked over by my old friend, Dr. Leatherhead, And pray bring him with you this afternoon.
Sir, your direction shall be observed with punctuality and expedition. Exit. So, you approve of my marriage, you say, nephew? I think it the best thing you can do, sir. Why, nephew, notwithstanding, I am so shattered with age and infirmities, I assure you I have more vigor than people imagine. What think you, Lucy? Your eyes, sir, look very sparkling and lively, but I think, uh, um, your other parts are not quite so brisk. Why, ah, it is true. My other parts are a little, um, a little more bithic or so, as the doctors say. But Harriet is very young, and she will be a charming bedfellow besides. Nephew, I have a great satisfaction in disappointing my crew of relations who have been like as many undertakers for these twenty years past, inquiring not after my health, but my death.
But I'll be revenged on them. I will have the pleasure of sending for them all, one by one, and assuring them I will not leave a single shilling among them. Enter a servant. Sir, my lady Love-wealth and her daughter are come to wait on you. Ode so. I did not expect them so soon. Stay, stay, boy. Don't show them up yet. My mistress must not find me in this pickle. You go down, Lucy, and show them into the parlor, but return directly and help to dress me. Exuent Lucy and Servant. Come, nephew, help me off with this gown and cap. Let me make myself as agreeable as I can for my mistress. Gently, gently, child. Have a care, have a care of my hand. Pulling off the gown. Oh, oh, oh, you have touched my gouty finger.
Enter Lucy. Come hither, Lucy. Do you dress me? You are most used to it. Are my flannels warm? Hear, hear, all roasted. They have been at the fire these three hours. Lucy and Belair dressed him up like a ridiculous old man. They put a heap of flannels on him, then his clothes, and a ridiculous tie-wig. Well, how do I look now? Pretty well, huh? Very well, sir, and very genteel. Now, show the ladies up, Lucy. I protest this dressing hath fatigued me.
To Belair, as she goes out. I have hinted something to Harriet, which I believe will break off the match infallibly.
Nephew, notwithstanding, this marriage, I shall make a handsome provision for you. Sir, your health and happiness are my chiefest blessings. Enter Lady Lovewealth, Harriet and Lucy. Sir Isaac Skinflint, I am glad to see you up and dressed this morning. We had a report in our neighborhood that you died last night. Aye, madam, envious wretches who expect legacies, and who wish me in my grave spread it abroad. "'Tis true I was a little out of order last night, but I'm mighty well to-day. Ah, ha, extremely well. Ah, ha. Lucy, give me a little of that heart's horn." Upon my word, sir, I never saw you look better. Pray, young lady, what do you think? Indeed, sir. I think the gentleman looks extremely gay and healthy.
I should be very well indeed, madam, if such powerful eyes as yours could not show me new life. Bowing very low. Oh, sir, your servant. Courtsying very low. Very gallant indeed, sir. Yes, madam, you will be a Medea's cattle to me, from whence I shall receive new vigour. Your charms will be a vivifying nostrum to the morbific parts which infirmity and age have laid hold of. You will be an in-lap to my heart, and my marriage will be an infallible specific which I shall take as my last remedy. Give me a little of that cordial. Sir, whatever commands my lady thinks proper to lay on me, I shall think it my duty to give them an implicit obedience. You see, Sir Isaac, my daughter is entirely directed by my will.
So, if you are ready to fulfill the agreement, that is, to settle a thousand pounds a year on her during your own life, and your whole fortune in reversion upon your disease, She is ready to marry you. Madam, I am as ready as she, and have given orders to my lawyer to draw up the articles for that purpose with the utmost expedition, and I expect them to be brought every moment ready to sign. Then, Harriet, I will leave you here, child, while I call upon my lawyer in Lincolns Inn, who is to peruse the writings. Mrs. Lucy, pray will you let one of your men order my coach up to the door? Exit, Lucy. Sir Isaac Skinflint, your servant. Mr. Belair, yours. Exit. To Harriet. Come, madam, let not these knotty flannels disgust you.
I can pull em off upon, er, er, certain occasions. I shall look better in a few days. Better? That's impossible, sir. You can't look better. Oh, Lord, madam. Bowing. Harriet takes him by the hand. There. There's a figure. Do but view him. Sir, I never saw a finer figure for a shroud and coffin in my life. Starting. Madam. I say, sir. You are a most enchanting figure for a shroud and coffin. Shroud the coffin. He walks off, she after him. Well, I can't help admiring your intrepidity, Sir Isaac. My conscience, you have more courage than half the young fellows in town. Why, what a Don Quixote are you to venture that shattered, shabby, crazy carcass of yours into a marriage bed with a hail constitution of nineteen.
Why, really, madam? Why, really, sir? You'll repent it. I believe it. I believe it, madam. What? You, who are a gouty, colicky, feverish, paralytic, hydropic, asthmatic, and a thousand diseases besides, venture to light Hyman's torch? Why, sir, it is perfect madness. It is making but one step from your wedding to your grave. Pray, sir. How long do you expect to live? Not long, I am sure, if I marry you. You are in the right answer. It will not be consistent with my pleasure or my interest that you should live above a fortnight. Um, aye, in about a fortnight I can do it. Let me see. Aye, it is but pulling away a pillow in one of your coughing fits, or, speaking properly to your apothecary, a very little rat's bane or laudanum will do the business.
Mr. Brown. Oh, monstrous! Mrs. Brown. Madam, this is a behavior unbecoming the daughter of Lady Lovewealth, and what I am confident her ladyship will highly resent. Mrs. Brown. You are mistaken, sir. My lady has consented to his death in a fortnight after our marriage. Mr. Brown. Oh, lud! Mrs. Brown. Oh, lud! Mrs. Brown. She begged hard for a month, but I could not agree to it. So now the only dispute between us is whether he shall be poisoned or strangled. Oh horrid! Oh terrible! So then it was agreed between you that I should be sent out of the world one way or the other? Yes, sir. What other treatment could you expect? You, who are a mere walking hospital? An infirmary? Oh, shocking! There's a figure to go to bed with!
Pointing at him and bursting into a laugh.
I shall joke with rage. Ah! Ah! Madame, I cannot stand by and see this treatment. If you use him thus before marriage, what ought he to expect after it? What? Why, I have told him. Death! Death! Death! Ah! you have indeed, Madame, and I thank you for it. But it shall never be in your power Either to strangle or poison me. Ah! Ah! I would as soon marry a she-dragon. Nephew, I beg you will turn her out. See her out of the house, pray. Madam, let me beg you will shorten your visit. Oh, sir, with all my heart. I see you are a Confederate with your uncle in this affair, but I shall insist upon his promise of marriage. I can prove it, and assure yourself, sir, if there be law in Westminster Hall or Doctor's Commons, you shall hear from me, and so your servant, sir.
Goes off in a passion. Dear nephew, see her out of the house. She has almost worried me to death. Sits down. Exit Bel Air. Enter Lucy. Oh, Lucy, give me a little in-lap, or heart-sworn, or— Something to raise my spirits. Had ever man so happy an escape? "'Ay, sir, you'd say it was a happy escape indeed, if you knew all. Why, sir, it is whispered everywhere that she had an intrigue last summer at Scarborough with a captain of whores.' "'I don't in the least doubt it. She who could give rat's bane or laudanum to her husband, I believe would not hesitate a little fornication.' Shark Without Dressed like a fox-hunter, drunk, knocking very loud and hollowing. Horks, hawks, hawks, my honeys, eh? House where the devil I at.
Knocking within. Oh, blesses! Who is it, knock so? The Lord knows, sir. Some madman, I believe. Aside. It is Shark, I suppose. Enter Shark. Hey, house! Family. Where are you all? What do you want, sir? What's that to you, I say? Where's Skinflint? Skinflint? Ay, Skinflint. There is my master, Mr. Isaac Skinflint, in that great chair. Going up to him, looking in his face, and laughing. A damned old sort of figure. A cursed queer old fellow to look at. Is your name Skinflint? It is, sir. Then give me your hand, old boy, shakes him by the flannels. Hold, hold, sir. You'll kill me if you ain't a care. So much the better. The sooner you die the better for me. For you? Pray, sir, who are you? Your nephew, who has read a hundred miles on purpose to take possession of your estate.
Are you my nephew? Yes, sir. I am sorry for it. My name is Bumper. My father, Sir Barnaby Bumper, took to wife a lady who, as I have been told, was your sister, which, said sister, sir, brought me into the world in less than four months after her marriage. In four months? Yes, sir. My father was a little displeased at first, but upon his being informed that such forward births were frequent in your family, he was soon reconciled to it. They belied our families, sir. For our family is— Hush, hush, don't expose them. They are always a damned whoring family, I must confess. I have frequently blushed at the quickness of my mother's conception, for it has often been thrown in my teeth. But since it has made me your heir, that will set me above the disgrace.
My heir? Aye, your heir, sir. I am come to town on purpose, to take possession. We had an account in the country that you were dead. And I suppose you are not a little mortified to find the report is false, eh? Why, I am sorry to find you alive. I must confess, I was in hopes to have found you stretched out and ready for the black gentleman to say grace over you. Sir, your servant. May the strawberry mare knock up the next hard chase, if I have not ridden as hard to be at your earthing as ever I did to being at the death of a fox. Mr. Brown. It was most affectionately done of you, nephew, and I shall remember you for it. Aside. Mr. Brown. A villain. I'll not leave him. A groat. However, since you are alive, uncle, I am glad to see you look so ill.
Mr. Brown. I am very much obliged to you, nephew. Aside to Lucy. Mr. Brown. Was there ever such a reprobate, Lucy? They tell me you have a damn deal of money that you have got by extortion and yersery and cheating of widows and orphans, to whom you have been guardian and executor. Ha! But I suppose you intend every gig of it for me. Ha! Old boy, I let it fly. I'll release the yellow sinners from their prisons. They shall never be confined by me. I believe you, nephew. But hark you, uncle. My sister has come to town, too, and she thinks to come in for snacks. But not a grig, dear her, not a grig. I must have every suit. Cousin Belair, too, that prig. Her hair is looking out sharp. But if you leave a denier to any of them without my consent, you shall be buried alive in one of your own iron chests, and sent as a present to your old friend Beelzebub.
To be sure, nephew, you are so very dutiful and affectionate that I shall be entirely directed by you. Lucy. I am afraid this villain has come to murder me. Step in and call Bel Air this instant. Exit Lucy. Pray, nephew, how long have you been in town? I came to town late last night, and hearing you were alive, I was resolved I would not sleep till I had seen you. So I went amongst the coffee-houses at Covent Garden, where I made a charming riot. I fought a duel, beat the watch, kicked the boards, Broke their punchbowls, clapped an old marketwoman upon her head in the middle of a kennel, bullied a justice, and made all the whores as drunk— As yourself, I suppose? Upon my word, nephew, you have made good use of your time since you have been in town.
Ay, and I old-skinned Flint. Sounds I love a riot. Don't you love a riot, uncle? Oh, most passionately. Give me a hand. Slaps him upon the shoulder. Oh boy, I love you for that. Oh, oh, oh, he has killed me. I am murdered. Rot your old crazy carcass. What do you cry out for, eh? Oh, oh, I can't bear to be touched. Oh, oh, oh damn you, why don't you die then? Harky uncle, how long do you intend to live? "'Ha! I'll allow you but three days, and if you don't die in that time, dead or alive, I'll have you buried. For I am resolved not to stir out of town till I see that bag of bones of yours, that old rotten carcass, paled up between four substantial elms and laid twenty foot deep in the earth, and then light-lie the turf, and flourish long-bow.
Toll-ol-ol-ol! Ha! Ha! Uncle, I'll take care of your safe passage to Pluto. Never fear!' Had every man such a reprobate relation, oh, the villain! Enter Mr. Death. Oh, Mr. Death, your servant! I am come, sir, according to your commands. Pray, which is the gentleman I am to take measure of? That old pring in the chair there? Sir, your humble servant. Sir, your servant. What are your commands with me? Sir, my name is Death. Death? Yes, sir. At your service. Dismal Death of... pretty well known in this city. And pray, Mr. Dismal Death, what do you want with me? I am come to take measure of you for a coffin. What? How? Yes, you old prig. I ordered him to take measure of you, and measure he shall take this instant.
Do you hear, Mr. Death? Measure him. Measure the old prig. I'll hold him fast. Shark lays hold of him while Mr. Death measures him. Are you going to murder me? You villain! Here, Lucy! Nephew! Murder her! Enter Lucy and Bel-Air. How now? What's the matter? Are you going to rob my uncle? No, no, sir. We are only taking measure of him for a coffin. Oh, nephew, they have almost killed me. Here is your cousin Bumper come to take possession of my fortune, whether I will or no, and he has brought a frightful fellow to take measure of me for a coffin. and a shroud, and swears he will bury me within these three days, dead or alive. Are you not ashamed, cousin Bumper, to use our uncle so inhumanly? Damn you, Prig, have you a mind to resent it?
If you have, log out, and I'll soon dispatch you. Was there ever such a bloody-minded villain? Dear nephew, come in with me. I'll do his business for him in a more effectual way than fighting. I'll swear the peace against him, and make my will without leaving him a shilling." Exit with Belair.
So far, the close beats. I think we have done Mr. Bumper's business for him. That obstacle is very well removed. We have nothing to do now but to provide for his sister the widow, and then to contrive some means to frighten the old fellow into a will in favour of my master. LARSON. Aye, Shark, that is the chiefest difficulty, the masterpiece, and unless you accomplish that you do nothing. LARSON. I know, my dear. Hear, hear. Here, hear. The embryo is here, and will come forth perfect in less than ten minutes. Why, Lucy, I have a genius to deceit, and wanted nothing but an opportunity to shew it." LUCY. I think you have a very fair one now. LUCY. I have so, and never fair, girl. I'll engage I make a proper use of it.
Lord, how many great men have been lost for want of being thrown into a proper light! On my conscience, had I been bred in a court, I believe I should have made as great a figure as ever Cromwell did, for— The statesman's skill like mine is all deceit. What's policy in him, in me's a cheat. Titles and wealth reward his noble art. Cudges and bruces mine, sometimes a cart. Twas is, and will he, to the end of time, that poverty, not fraud, creates the crime. Excellent. End of Act One.
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3 02 - Act 2 42:43
Enter Bel Air and Lucy. What coach was that that stopped at the door? My Lady Lovewealth, sir. I told her Miss Harriet was gone home, and that my master was gone out in a chair to some of his lawyers, for I could not let her see Mr. Isaac. You were right, Lucy. Where is Shark? In my room, sir, dressing for the widow. Skinflint Within. Lucy, why, Lucy, where are you, wench? I'll leave you with my uncle, Lucy. While I step up and hasten Shark. Exit Bel Air. Enter Skinflint. Here, Lucy. Tie up me affairs. They are loose and falling about my heels. They are always loose, I think. Lucy, did I not send for Monsieur de Maguerre, the apothecary? Yes, sir, and he will be here presently. Knocking. Hark!
This is he, I suppose. Go see, if it is. Send him up. Exit Lucy. What an insupportable vexation riches are. All my relations are watching and hovering about me like so many crows about a dead carrion. Even Belair, who behaves the best of them all, has a hawk's eye. I see. After my will, and advises me in a sly, indirect manner to the making of it. A parent is used by an heir, just as a virgin is by a rake. Before we have parted with our treasure, we are adored. We are gods and goddesses. But as soon as that is over, we become as troublesome to them as an evil conscience. I'll keep my money to save my poor soul. For, to be sure, I have got a great deal of it in an unfair manner. Therefore, in order to make my peace hereafter, I'll leave it to build an almshouse.
Enter, Lucy. Sir, there's a lady in deep mourning below who says she is your niece. If she is such a canary bird as her brother that was here to-day, she may go to the devil. However, show her up. Exit Lucy. She may be the reverse of him. We ought not to condemn a whole family for one bad person. Enter Lucy, showing in Shark, who is dressed in weeds. Madam, this is your uncle. Sir, I have not the honour to be known to you, but the report of your death was brought me to town, to justify the duty and affection of an unworthy niece for the best of uncles. A good, well-bred kind of woman. Aside to Lucy. Ay, this is something like a relation. Aside. I shall hear you sing another tune presently. Pray, niece, give me leave to salute you.
You are welcome to London. Kisses him. My eyes are but bad. "'Yet I think I can discover a strong resemblance of my sister in you.'" Peering in his face. "'Yes, sir. I was reckoned very like my mamma before I was married, but frequent childbearing, you know, sir, will alter a woman strangely for the worse.'" "'It will so, niece. You are a widow, I perceive.'" "'Yes, sir. An unfortunate widow.'" Weeps. "'I never had a dry eye since my husband died.'" Pray, niece, what did your husband die of? He broke his neck, a fox-hunting. Good luck, good luck! That was dreadful. Aye, sir, and though I was but one and twenty when he died, he left me both a widow and a mother. So early a grief, you may be sure, must have robbed me of my bloom, and has broke me mightily.
As you were a widow, niece, at one and twenty, I don't suppose your husband left you many children? Fifteen, sir. Starting. Fifteen, niece. Aye, fifteen, sir. I was married at fourteen. That was very young, niece. It was so, sir, but young girls can't keep nowadays, so I ran away with him from the boarding school. I had two children by him every ten months, for six years, and I had three by him the seventh. Upon my word, you are a very good breeder. Yes, sir. I was always accounted so. Besides, sir, I have had two by him since his death. How, madam, since his death? Yes, sir, and I am afraid I shall have some more. For a word in your ear, sir, I find I am coming again, sir. Oh, fie, niece, oh, fie, fie.
Why, Lucy, this woman is as bad as her brother.
Indeed, sir, I am afraid so. But I will try her a little further. Pray, niece. who has been your companion and bedfellow for these two years past, for I presume you have not lain alone. "'Oh, Lord, sir, not for the world. You must know, uncle, I am greatly addicted to be afraid of spirits, ghosts, witches, and fairies, and so to prevent terrifying dreams and apparitions, I took a religious gentleman, a very good man, to bed with me, an 18-a-rate Methodist, one Dr. Preachfield. Dr. Preachfield, I have heard of him. Oh, he's a very good man, Uncle, I assure you, and very full of the spirit.
Lucy, have not I got a hopeful parcel in relations? Indeed, sir, I think this lady is not extremely modest. Why, she ought to be whipped at the cart's tail. Pray, niece, have not you a brother in town? Yes, sir. He and I beat the watch last night at Tom King's. Oh, monstrous! Beat the watch, madam. Yes, sir, and broke all the lamps in the parish. Very pretty employment for a lady, truly. And so, madam, you came to town merely to show your duty and affection to me. Yes, sir, and in hopes to be our heir, we had the report in the country that you was defunct, and I was in hopes to have found it true. I am obliged to you, madam. There is another thing we have very current in the country. I do not know how true it is.
What is it, I pray? I have been told, uncle, and from very good hands, that you are a little better than a thief. Madam. And that you got all your fortune by biting and sharping, extortion and cheating. Hark ye, madam, get out of my house this minute. Or I will order somebody to throw you out of the window. I have heard, too, that for several years past you have been an old fornicator, and that you have led a most wicked life with this girl. With me, madam? Yes, you naughty creature, and that your fornication would have had carnal symptoms, but that he took most unnatural methods to prevent your pregnancy. Get out of my doors this minute. "'Sir, you are an uncivil gentleman to bid me get out, but I find you are as great a rogue as the most malicious report can make you.' "'Get out of my house, I say.' "'Well, I'll go, sir, but depend upon it.
You shall not live many days after this. I'll be the death of you, if there are no more uncles in the world.' A sighed to him as she thrusts him off. "'Slip up the back stairs to my room, and I'll come and undress you.' Get you out, you wicked woman! Get you out! Exit Shark.
Oh! was ever a man so hope up with such a parcel of relations. Make them my heirs. I would as soon leave my money to a privateer's crew, and I verily believe they would be as thankful and make as good use of it. I have been so worried and teased by them all that I am not able to support any longer. I must go in and lie down. Support me, Lucy, or I shall fall. I am quite faint. Oh, oh. Excellent. Enter Bel Air. So, thus far, all goes well. Shark has been as successful in his widow as his fox. We have routed the family of Bumpers. There is nothing now to apprehend from that quarter. But the main difficulty is yet behind, which is to induce him to make his will, for without that my Lady Lovewell's avarice never will consent to make my dearest Harriet mine.
Enter Lucy. Oh, sir, we are all undone. Why? What's the matter? Your uncle, sir, is dead. Dead? Aye, dead, sir. Shark, with his tricks and rogueries, has so teased him, that having with much ado got into his chamber, down he fell upon the bed, and there he lies, without either motion, voice, sense, pulse, or understanding. The very means I took to succeed have infallibly ruined me. Enter Shark. Is he gone? Mr. Coastclare? So, villain! Your schemes and plots have a fine conclusion, rascal. A fine conclusion, rascal? I don't know what conclusions they have, but I am sure it can't be worse than this reward. Pray, sir, what has happened? Why, you have killed my uncle, villain, and ruined me forever.
What? Is the old fellow dead? Yes, rascal, and without a will. This is now an instance to the judgment and gratitude of mankind. If I had succeeded, I should have been a second Machiavelle, and, my dear Shark, I shall be ever obliged to you. But now I am a rascal and a son of a whore, a blockhead, and a serve my bones broke. Well, sir, no upbraiding now. But tell, what is to be done? What's to be done? What should be done, sir? Break open his coffers, his cabinet, his strong-box, seize upon his mortage-deeds and writings, but, above all, take a particular care of the bank-bills and the ready cash. I have a great veneration for them, and they will tell no tales to your fellow-heirs, and as the old man has bit you, why do you plunder them?
Do you take possession, and I'll engage I procure a lawyer, who shall prove it to be something more than eleven points of the law." But then my Harriet-Shark— Without her, the wealth of Mexico is useless and insipid. Upon my soul, sir, begging your pardon, you make as ridiculous a figure in this business as a disappointed lover in a play. Why, sir, our farce is now in the very height of the plot, and it is impossible you can have your mistress till it be ended. Nor then either, I am afraid. Lord, sir, you are too hasty. "'You are like the ignorant part of an audience the first night of a new play. You will have things brought about before their time. Go and take possession of the assets, I tell you, and leave the rest to the devil and the law.
Get them on your side, and I'll engage you prosper in any roguery.' "'Well, I'll go. But I see no glimmering of hope from it.' Exit Bel Air. "'Lucy, do shut up all the windows and lock up the door.' That's impossible, for Mr. Littlewit and Dr. Leatherhead are below with the marriage articles. Mr. O, de devil! Then we are all ruined again. Hold! Ah, aye. I have a thought, Lucy. Do the lawyers know of the old man's death? Not a word. They are but this minute come in. Mr. Then keep it an entire secret. I'll clinch the whole affair this instant. Get me the old man's gown. And cap. His slippers, his pillow, his flannels, and all his trumpery." Here they all are, upon the table where he shifted. Give me quick, quick!
Ask no questions. So now my cap, my gouty slippers, my flannels for my hands. Here, here, pin them on, pin them on, quick, quick, so. And now my great chair, and now I am damnable ill. Oh, sick, sick! Oh, oh, oh! Go and tell my master how I am transmogrified, do you hear? And bid him not be surprised, let what will happen. But first, send up the lawyers. Exit Lucy. "'Lawyers have often made false wills for their own interests, and I see no reason now why they mayn't make one for mine. I am sure I have as good a title to be a rogue as any of them all, for my father was an Irish solicitor, my mother was a Yorkshire gypsy. I was begotten in Wales, born in Scotland, and brought up at that famous university of St.
Giles Pound. And now he who has a better right to be a rogue than me, let him put in his claim.' Though I believe nobody will dispute it with me, it is on my own to-day. When I come to Westminster Hall, I'll resign. Enter Belair, Lucy, Dr. Leatherhead, and Mr. Littlewit, with pens, ink, papers, candles, etc., etc. So, gentlemen, when I sent for you in the morning, I was foolish enough to think of marriage. But heaven pardon me, I must now think of death, of my poor precious soul. I must desire you to get my will ready as soon as possible, for I fear my poor fleeting life is not worth half an hour's purchase. The sooner it is done, the better. It may procure you ease and consolation of mind. Dear Dr.
Leatherhead, hold your tongue. The less you talk, the more it will be to the purpose, I am sure. Nephew, draw near. Lucy, take those candles out of my eyes, and shut that door. Sir. My Lady Lovewealth has sent her daughter to wait on you, and my lady will be here herself immediately. Very well. Let my wife that was to be come up. Let her know how affairs are, Lucy. Little at the table writing.
Sir Isaac Skinner Flint of the parish of sound sense, weakened body, uncertain to have human life. Last will and testament. Now, sir, we are ready. I have finished the preamble. But, Sir Isaac, should not this will be made in private? We always choose to have as few witnesses by as possible. I believe you, Dr. Leatherhead, that they may produce the more lawsuits. Aye, aye, doctor, I know the tricks of the law. The more grist, the more tall for the miller. But you shall not fill your bags out of my sack, you harpeth, your cormorants, your devours. Oh, you— "'Blood-suckers! Oh! Oh!' "'I find Sir Isaac still the same man.' "'No matter, doctor. As it is the last business we shall do for him, he shall pay swingingly.' "'I will make my will simple and plain, and before many witnesses.' Enter Harriet.
"'So, Harriet, you are come to see the last of the old man. Will I forgive you your rivalry to-day?' Come kiss me, hussy, or I'll disinherent you." Kisses her. You had better kiss me as a dying uncle, hussy, than a living husband, for I shall give you to my nephew. And now, gentlemen of the black robe, who protect our properties for us, the first thing you are to do is to fill up the blank in the marriage articles with my nephew's name instead of mine, for he, I fancy, he will be much properer to manage the young lady's concern than me. It is over with me." "'What think you, Harriet? Don't you think you'll do it better than me, huh?' Ah, the young Jade, how she smiles. She knows what I mean. But, gentlemen, before I make my will, I have one thing to observe, which is that I am a very whimsical old rogue.
You all know that, I believe." "'Why, you are a little whimsical, Sir Isaac, sometimes, I know.' And therefore I desire a bond may immediately be prepared for me to give my nephew, which will put it out of my power to revoke the will I shall now make in these presents, for I am so odd a fellow that it is a hundred to one I shall want to go from it to-morrow. I am afraid, Sir Isaac, such a bond will not be good in law. Aside to the doctor. Oh, yes, doctor, very good doctor. You will hurt the practice with your scruples? What is it to us whether it be a good bond or not? It is a new case, and will be a bone of contention to us. The gown will get by it. Let who will lose? I believe, Sir Isaac, upon second thoughts, it will be a good bond.
Then draw it up, and now, gentlemen, as to my will. In primis let all my debts be discharged. That, I believe, Sir Isaac, will soon be done. For I don't suppose you owe any? Yes, I owe for the nursing of a bastard child at winter. Is it possible you ever had a bastard? Several, Doctor, but they were all dropped upon different parishes, except that one. Then there are some few dribbling debts at ale-houses and taverns where I used to meet my wenches. In all about twenty pounds. I find, Mr. Littlewit, that the old gentleman has been a cock of the game in his time, good blood. Really, Dr. Leatherhead, I think so. Item. I do constitute my nephew Belair, whole and sole executor of my last will and testament.
Oh, my dear uncle, shall I lose you, cries. Good-natured boy, how he weeps, disinheriting and cutting off all other persons whatsoever, saving those hereafter mentioned. Oh, my dear generous master, cries. Poor girl. She weeps, too. I suppose for the same reason. To put me in mind of her. Never fare, Lucy. I'll not forget you. You have been a good girl, and managed my concerns with great skill and decency. Proceed, sir. Unto Harriet Lovewealth, my niece, that shall be, I do give— Lucy, you know where they are. A set of diamond bracelets which were mortaged to me and forfeited by the Welch lady that used to game so much. I have them in this casket, sir. Give them to me. There. I give them Harriet.
But first, kiss me, hussy. I will have a kiss for them. Kisses her, and gives her the bracelets. Impudent rascal. Item. To Lucy, who for many years has served me faithfully, and who used to flatter me in all my little foeblis. Sure never was so generous and grateful a master, cries. To her I bequeath, when she marries, one thousand pounds, provided it be with that honest lad Shark, not a farthing else. How, sir? A thousand pounds? It is too much. Not at all, nephew. Aside. Here's a dog. Consider, sir, she's a low-bred poor person. Poor is she? Why, then, Mr. Littlewit, if the girl is poor, put her down another hundred, but with a proviscio still, that she marries Shark. I presume, sir, you have done now?
Done. The gods of gratitude and generosity forbid. Now I must remember poor Shark. I must not forget him. Item. To that honest fellow, Shark. Oh, oh. Mr. Oh, the rascal. He'll give half the estate to himself and Lucy. Mr. To Shark, I say, for his faithful services. Mr. Why, sir, he's the most idle, drunken. Mr. Hold your tongue, nephew. You are deceived in the young man. You don't know him so well as I. I have known him many years. He is a sober, honest fellow, and has a great regard for you, and for that reason I live in two hundred pounds per annum. Two hundred pounds, sir? Pray be silent, nephew. I know his virtues and good qualities. Therefore, Mr. Littlewit, I think you may as well make it two hundred and fifty.
Sir, per annum? Sir! Ay, per annum. For ten annums, if I please, sir. Why, sure, I can do what I will with my own. I beg your pardon, sir. It is a great deal too much, I think. I think not, and I believe at this juncture my thoughts are more to the purpose than yours. But consider, sir, what can he do with so much money? Such a low, poor fellow that has no friends. No friends? No, sir, a low, friendless fellow. Nay, if he is poor, set him down another hundred, Mr. Littlewit. He shall not want a friend while I am alive, for he is an honest lad, and loves a bottle and a wench as well as myself. Aside. Mr. Was there ever such a tricking, exorbitant rascal? Sir, I beg you'll alter that article that relates to Shark.
Mr. Sir, I beg you'll hold your tongue. Say another word, and I'll give him a thousand pounds per annum. Mr. Sir. I humbly beg pardon. Bowing very low. Well, beg pardon, and be satisfied. I think you have reason. Here I shall have you, master, of six or seven thousand pounds per annum, as you call it, and almost a plum and a half in reddy coal, and you are not satisfied. Say one word more, and I'll tear my will, or leave every shilling to the inhabitants of Bedlam, or to the man that finds out the longitude. I have done, sir. Praden have done, sir, and don't fret me. Aside. Mr. Brown. An impudent rogue. But I must not contend with him now. Lord, it is as much trouble to give away an estate as to get it.
Mr. Belair, you should not interrupt the testator. At such a time his mind should not be disturbed. Praden. You are in the right, Dr. Leatherhead. Let me see. Have I no friend that I care to oblige with two or three thousand? I am such a generous temper that I don't care to leave off yet. I have a great mind to give Shark a handful over, but— Sir? No, I believe I have done. Will you please to sign, then? That I would with all my heart, but that the gout and palsy prevent me. Then we must observe, Mr. Littlewit, that the said testator does declare his inability to write. Is the bond to my nephew ready? Yes, sir. But is it strong, and so well drawn, that the old Nick himself, should he turn pettifog, could not reverse it?
It is, sir. Very well. There, if you please to make your mark by touching the pen. Shark touches the pen. So. And put the watch over his hand, and let him take off the seal. So, very well, sir, you publish and declare this to be your last will and testament, and desire Dr. Leatherhead and Mr. Littlewit to be witnesses thereunto. I do. All the ceremony of signing and sealing and delivering is performed.
Very well. Sir Isaac, I will take care, they shall be properly registered. I beg, good folks, that you will slip into the next room for a few moments, while I compose myself after this intolerable fatigue. Nephew, pray shew them in, and do the honors of my house in the gentlest manner. I shall, sir. Dr. Leatherhead, Mr. Littlewit, will you walk in, gentlemen? Sir, your servant, sir. Yours. We wish you better. Your servant, your servant, gentlemen. Oh, oh, quick, quick.
Excellent all but Lucy and Shark. Lucy, off with my roguery, and let me appear in my native honesty. I have gibbets and halters in my mind a hundred times, passing and repassing, since I began this business. I am horrid afraid that devil and Sir Isaac, for I suppose they are met by this time, will contrive some means to counterplot us. Though I think I shall be a match for them, if we can keep the law on our side. Let me but secure that, and I defy the devil and all his works. There, there they are, the precious robes of deceit." Throws down the old man's gown and cap. "'I think there has been transacted as ingenuous a scene of iniquity in that gown within the short space of half an hour, as in any gown that has been trapeeted in Westminster Hall since the ingenuous Mr.
Rethcock was transported. Now, my dear Lucy, after all this fatigue and bustle—' I think it would not be amiss for you and I to relieve and solace ourselves in the lawful state of procreation. Time enough, fool. Consider matrimony as a long journey. True, Lucy. Therefore the sooner we set out, the better. For love, my dear, like time must be taken by the forelock. Come, come, this is no time for pratting and fooling. Do you join the company to avoid suspicion, and tomorrow morning put me in mind of it. If I am in humour, I may perhaps walk towards Doctor's Commons, and venture at a great leap in the dark with you, for so I think marriage may be justly called. Why, aye, this is speaking like one that has mind to deal.
Here is my hand. It shall stand on my side. And here's my hand. If I can help it, it shall not fail on mine. Touch. Buzz. I like the sample and am resolved to purchase the whole commodity. Exit Shark. Monsieur du Maigre within. Mistress Lucy! Mistress Lucy! Why you no come when your Maître Jeanne be so very bad? Where be you? Who have we here? Our apothecary, Monsieur du Maigret. Pray heaven the old man has not come to life again. Enter Monsieur du Maigre. Oh, Mistress Lucy, for shame! Pardis! Why, you no come to your maître. He be dead this one half-catre the hour, and you no come. But, gah, he want his gown and his cap. What? Is he alive? Yes. He was dead, but I bring him to life. I bleed him, and so he comes from the dead man to the life.
But come, allons, vite, vite. He want the gown. Takes up the gown and cap. So we have been making a will to a fine purpose. Allons, vite, vite, mistress Lucy. He be very bad indeed, and he want you very much. Allons. Excellent. Enter Bel Air and Shark. Well, sir, now who is the fool? The blockhead. Did not I tell you we should succeed? Yes, but scoundrel! How did you dare to make such a will? In what respect, sir? In what, rascal? To Lucy and yourself! How dare you leave so much money between you? For the best reason in the world, sir, because I knew nobody dared to contradict me. And had I thought you would have been angry at it, I assure you, sir, I should have left as much more. Why, sir, if you will consider the affair impartially, you will find I had a right to be co-heir with you.
How so, sir? By the laws of a roguery, sir, in which it is a fundamental maxim that in cheats of this kind all people are upon a par, and have a right to an equal snack. Impudent rascal. But if you think, sir, that I have behaved in this affair selfishly, or am becoming a rogue of honour, I will send in for Dr. Leatherhead and Mr. Littlewit, for they are still in the next room, and cancel the will directly. No, rascal. You know my love to Harriet will not let me consent to that. This is just the way of the great world. The poor rogues are men of parts and do all the business, and the rich ones not only arrogate the merton to themselves, but are for running away with all the plunder. Enter Lucy.
Oh, sir! What's the matter? Oh, oh, oh, I can't speak. But your uncle's alive, that's all. Sets down a great chair. And that's enough to hang one, I'm sure. Alive? Aye, alive, sir. This comes of you begrudging me my snack of the spoil, sir. Why, I thought you saw him senseless and dead. I thought so, too. But it seems while we were about the will, Monsieur Dumigre, the apothecary, came in and bled him in an instant, which has unfortunately recovered him. He is within with him now, and one Counselor Cormorant, who is come upon some law business to him. Oh, here they all come. What a malicious turn of fortune this is. Why, sir? If you will not be ungrateful, now I believe I can secure a retreat, and such a one as the greatest general in Europe in our situation would not be ashamed of.
Dear Shark, I will do anything thou wilt. Ay, now it is dear Shark, but no, sir, you have to deal with an Englishman, and a man of honour who scorns to put an enemy to death when he begs for quarter, though you have been an ungenerous ally, as ever vowed fidelity to the Crown of England. But no matter. I'll serve you still and completely." But how, dear Shark? I won't tell you, and I defy you to guess now. And anybody else that's more. I must step into the next room for a moment and whisper to the lawyers, and in the meantime do you persist in your uncle's having made a will. That's all. Don't you be like an ignorant thief before a noisy magistrate. Confess and hang yourself." And you, madam, do you ambrosio countenance, and keep up your character to the last.
Exit. Enter Skinflint, supported by Councillor Comorant and Monsieur de Maigre, Lucy settling his great chair. Ah, ah, gently, gently, let me down gently, pray. Oh, oh. Sits down. Nephew, how could you let me lie for dead so long, and never come near me? Really, sir, I never heard a word that you were in any danger of dying. Anne-Lucie, how could you be so cruel to neglect me so long? Me? Lord, sir, I never knew anything of it, till Monsieur Dumigre informed me. Non, pardis, she not have any knowledge till that me make her the intelligence. I thought you were in a sound sleep, sir, and was extremely glad of it. And so was I. I do assure you, sir. I am obliged to you, nephew, but I had like to have slept my last.
It is very true, indeed, upon my word, but that Monsieur là, avocat, Here, Monsieur, what is your name, s'il vous plaît? I always forget. Cormorant, sir. Mais oui, Monsieur le Cormorant, but that he and I come in together, just after one another. I believe I come in one two minutes before you, Monsieur le Cormorant. I say but that me come in the nick upon my word. Sir Isaac, you be defunct. And then I lose my annuity upon your life, and by God that be very bad for Monsieur Dumayre. I am obliged to you, Monsieur. Are the lawyers come, Lucy? Mr. Littlewit and Dr. Leatherhead? Yes, sir. They have been here a considerable time. I desire them to walk in. So now the murder's coming out.
Nephew, I am at last resolved to make my will. I shall make a proper provision for you in it. But as our soul is the immortal part of us, I must take care of that the first thing I do. Therefore I am resolved to appropriate so much of my fortune as will be sufficient for that purpose to the building of an almshouse. Enter Dr. Leatherhead with Mr. Littlewit, Lady Lovewealth, Harriet, Shark, and Lucy. So, gentlemen, I have altered my mind, Mr. Littlewit, since I saw you last. Concerning what, sir? My will, sir. It is now too late, sir. You have put it out of your power. Out of my power? Aye, and out of the power of Westminster Hall. Sir Isaac, you know I gave you my opinion upon it before you made it.
What, is the man mad? No, sir, I am not mad. And I would advise you not to be foolish and whimsical, as you owned about half an hour since you were subject to. Why, the men are drunk or mad, I think. Pardee, somebody be drunk or mad among you, for by guard me no understand your words. Why, gentlemen, I sent for you to make my will. You did so, sir, and you have made it, and it is registered, and there is the copy. Ask your nephew and these ladies, and your maid Lucy and the footman here. No, pray sir, don't bring me into it. I was not here. You are right, friend. I believe you were not here. But ask all the rest. Nephew, do you know anything of all this? Upon my word, sir, what the doctor says is true.
How? True, Lucy? Indeed, sir. You did make a will before you had your fit, but you have forgot it, I suppose. Why, this is all contrivance, a conspiracy, a— O, pray, when did I make this will? Mr. Why, sir, it is not ten minutes since you signed it, and all these are witnesses. Pointing on their own side of the room. Mr. No, pray, sir, leave me out. I will be sworn in any court in Westminster, Sir Isaac, that I know nothing of the matter. Mr. Bagarre! This doctor let ahead be one very great fripon. Arky, sir. You say he make the signature to the will in these ten minutes? Yes, sir. Bagger, that cannot be, for Monsieur Comorant and myself be with him above thirteen, and he make no will in that time.
Charny bleu. It is very true, gentlemen, that we can attest.
Pray, Doctor, let me see this will. Read it, if you please. Sir Isaac Skinflint, being seated in his great chair, um, underwritten, sound senses though infirm in body. No matter for the preamble. Um, um, um, committed to writing his underwritten will, in manner and form following, Im Primus, I will that all my debts be paid. Debts? I do not owe one shilling to the world. You forget, Sir Isaac, you owe for the nursing of a bastard child at Wonsor, and several little dribbling bits where you used to meet your wenches. How a bastard! Why, I never had a bastard in my life, but once, and that was forty years ago, with a great red-haired wench, a maid that my father had, but it was when I was a lad, and I did not know what I was about.
Item. I do constitute my nephew Belair, whole and sole executor, disinheriting and cutting off all other persons. This is a scene of villainy. Saving those hereafter mentioned, unto Harriet Lovewealth, my niece that shall be, I do bequeath the set of diamond bracelets, mortgaged by the... This is all a robbery. Let em go on, Sir Isaac. You have your remedy. This is all a robbery. To my maid Lucy, one thousand pounds. How monstrous! I never intended to give her a farthing. Item. To that honest fellow, slip-string shark. That is me, Sir Isaac, and I humbly thank your honour. I bequeath him three hundred pounds per annum during his natural life, to be paid out of that part of my estate he shall think proper.
Oh, blessings on your generous heart. It was always fond of rewarding merit. Read no more. I'll have every one of you indicted for forgery, and conspiracy, and first take notice, Councillor Cormorant, and Monsieur du Maguet. that I deny that will to be any act of mine, and that I cancel it to all intents and purposes. Mr. Brown. That you can't do, sir, for by way of marriage articles between Belair and Harriet Lovewealth you have signed a deed conformable to this will. Why, this is such a piece of villainy as the records of Westminster Hall cannot match. Mr. Brown. Do not be uneasy, Sir Isaac. You have one and one certain way of o'ersetting all their villainy, and that is by confessing that you made this will, and proving that you were out of your senses when you did it, which may easily be done by proper witnesses.
I'll confess that or anything, to get my money again and hang them all. Dr. Leatherhead, I begin now to remember something of the making of this will. But I can prove I was lightheaded and out of my senses when I did it. Sir Isaac, it is no affair of mine. It is your nephew's concern. If he is willing to let such chicane pass upon him he may. But if he has a mind to insist upon the will, I'll undertake to prove you were in your senses as perfectly as ever you were in your life. And now will you insist, nephew? It is not in my power to be off it, sir. For in consequence that you were sincere when you made this will, my lady Lovewealth here has given me her daughter, and her own chaplain has just now put the finishing hand to the business in the next room, before all these witnesses.
So you won't resign? I can't, sir. Come along, Mr. Comorant. I'll hamper them all. I'll prove myself out of my senses before I sleep. Exit Skinflint and Comerant. Bagarre, this'll be very great. Much surprise upon me. Vant party, party. Make the man make the ville whether he will own no, and the man say he will prove that he be lunatic and lightheaded. Bagarre, me never hear the like in France. Pardis, etc., etc. Exit. "'Well, I believe this affair is over for to-night, and upon my word I am heartily glad for it, for I have been in very sweating circumstances ever since it began, but especially since Sir Isaac came to life. I was afraid that single incident would have damned our whole intrigue.
I now begin to have some hopes we shall succeed. I have done my master's business completely, and, as executors go, I do not think that I have been too partial to myself. I believe there are several honest gentlemen who walk the change and go to church constantly, who would have thought they acted very generously if they had given Belair even an equal dividend. But I beg pardon. You are to judge, not I, and unless you approve the deed, I shall denounce my share of the legacy. For should our will in Westminster be tried— The right, I fare, would fall on the other side. Here you are absolute to confirm my course. If you approve, a fig for courts and laws. FINICE End of Act II. And End of A Will and No Will, or A Bone for the Lawyers, by Charles Macklin.