Cut. Well go. Where was I? Oh! "And licks the hand just raised to shed its blood." What an affecting picture! (turns over the leaves, and reads)." It is probable that the long lives which are recorded of the people before the flood, were owing to their being confined to a vegetable diet." Ben. The young gentleman in Pullen's Row, Islington, that has got the consumption, has sent to know if you can let him have a sweetbread. Cut. Take two,-take all that are in the shop. What a disagreeable interruption! (reads again.) "Those fierce and angry passions, which impel man to wage destructive war with man, may be traced to the ferment in the blood produced by an animal diet." Ben. The two pound of rump-steaks must go home to Mr Molyneux's. He is in training to fight Cribb. Cut. Well, take them; go along, and do not trouble me with your disgusting details, [Exit Ben. Cut. (Throwing down the book.) Why was I bred to this detestable business? Was it not plain, that this trembling sensibility, which has marked my character from earliest infancy, must for ever disqualify me for a profession which- -what do ye want? what do ye buy? O, it is only somebody going past. I thought it had been a customer.-Why was not I bred a glover, like my cousin Langston ? to see him poke his two little sticks into a delicate pair of real Woodstock- "A very little stretching, ma'am, and they will fit exactly". -Or a haberdasher, like my next-door neighbour" not a better bit of lace in all town, my lady-Mrs Breakstock took the last of it last Friday, all but this bit, which I can afford to let your ladyship have a bargain-reach down that drawer on your left hand, Miss Fisher." Enter in haste, DAVENPORT, MARIAN, and LUCY. Lucy. This is the house I saw a bill up at, ma'am; and a droll creature the landlord is. Dav. We have no time for nicety. Cut. What do ye want? what do ye buy? O, it is only you, Mrs Lucy. Lucy whispers CUTLET. Cut. I have a set of apartments at the end of my garden. They are quite detached from the shop. A single lady at present occupies the ground floor. Mar. Aye, aye, any where. Dav. In, in. Cut. Pretty lamb,-she seems agitated. DAVENPORT and MARIAN go in with CUTLET. Lucy. I am mistaken if my young lady does not find an agreeable companion in these apartments. Almost a namesake, Only the difference of Flyn, and Flint. I have some errands to do, or I would stop and have some fun with this droll butcher. CUTLET returns. Cut. Why, how odd this is! They are as thick as flies. Your young lady knows my young lady. Lucy. You may thank me for your new lodger, Mr Cutlet.-But bless me, you do not look well? Cut. To tell you the truth, I am rather heavy about the eyes. Want of sleep, I believe. Lucy. Late hours, perhaps. Raking last night. Cut. No, that is not it, Mrs Lucy. My repose was disturbed by a very different cause from what you may imagine. It proceeded from too much thinking. Lucy. The deuce it did! and what, if I may be so bold, might be the subject of your Night Thoughts? Cut. The distresses of my fellow creatures. I never lay my head down on my pillow, but I fall a thinking, how many at this very instant are perishing. Some with cold Lucy. What, in the midst of summer? Cut. Aye. Not here, but in countries abroad, where the climate is different from ours. Our summers are their winters, and vice versa, you know. Some with cold Lucy. What a canting rogue it is! I should like to trump up some fine story to plague him. [Aside. Cut. Others with hunger-some a prey to the rage of wild beasts-Lucy. He has got this by rote, out of some book. Cut. Some drowning, crossing crazy bridges in the dark-some by the violence of the devouring flame Lucy. I have it. For that matter, you need not send your humanity a travelling, Mr Cutlet. For instance, last night Cut. Some by fevers, some by gun-shot wounds- Cut. Some in drunken quarrels Lucy. (Aloud.) The butcher's shop at the corner. Cut. What were you saying about poor Cleaver ? Lucy. He has found his ears at last. (Aside.) That he has had his house burnt down. Cut. Bless me! Lucy. I saw four small children taken in at the green grocer's. Cut. Do you know if he is insured? Lucy. Some say he is, but not to the full amount. Cut. Not to the full amount-how shocking! He killed more meat than any of the trade between here and Carnaby market—and the poor babesfour of them you say what a melting sight!-he served some good customers about Marybone-I always think more of the children in these cases than of the fathers and mothers-Lady Lovebrown liked his veal better than any man's in the market-I wonder whether her ladyship is engaged-I must go and comfort poor Cleaver, however.-[Exit. Lucy. Now is this pretender to humanity gone to avail himself of a neighbour's supposed ruin to inveigle his customers from him. Fine feelings!pshaw ! Re-enter, CUTLET. [Exit. Cut. What a deceitful young hussey! there is not a word of truth in her. There has been no fire. How can people play with one's feelings so!(sings)" For tenderness formed"-No, I'll try the air I made upon myThe words may compose me.-(sings.) self. A weeping Londoner I am, A washer-woman was my dam; For when she wrung with elbows stout Scarce three clean muckingers a week My parish learning I did win Cockchafers-none like me was found I never tied tin-kettle, clog, And when the poor thing clattered off, Thought I, “ What that dumb creature feels, Arrived, you see, to man's estate, And leave the town on slaughtering days. At Kentish Town, or Highgate Hill, But when they're dead I sell their meat, Envy, with breath sharp as my steel, [Exit, half laughing, half crying. SCENE, a Street. DAVENPORT, Solus. Dav. Thus far have I secured my charming prize. I can appretiate, while I lament, the delicacy which makes her refuse the protection of my sister's roof. But who comes here? Enter PENDULOUS, agitated. It must be he. That fretful animal motion-that face working up and down with uneasy sensibility, like new yeast. Jack-Jack Pendulous! Pen. It is your old friend, and very miserable. Dav. Vapours, Jack. I have not known you fifteen years to have to guess at your complaint. Why, they troubled you at school. Do you remember when you had to speak the speech of Buckingham, where he is going to execution? Pen. Execution!—he has certainly heard it. (Aside.) Dav. What a pucker you were in overnight! Pen. May be so, may be so, Mr Davenport. That was an imaginary I have had real troubles since. scene. Dav. Pshaw! so you call every common accident. Pen. Do you call my case so common, then? Dav. What case? Pen. You have not heard, then? Dav. Positively not a word. Pen. You must know I have been-(whispers)—tried for a felony since then. Dav. Nonsense! Pen. No subject for mirth, Mr Davenport. A confounded short-sighted fellow swore that I stopt him, and robbed him, on the York race-ground at nine on a fine moonlight evening, when I was two hundred miles off in Dorsetshire. These hands have been held up at a common bar. Dav. Ridiculous! it could not have gone so far. Pen. A great deal farther, I assure you, Mr Davenport. I am ashamed to say how far it went. You must know, that in the first shock and surprise of the accusation, shame-you know I was always susceptible-shame put me upon disguising my name, that, at all events, it might bring no disgrace upon my family. I called myself James Thomson. Dav. For heaven's sake, compose yourself. Pen. I will. An old family ours, Mr Davenport-never had a blot upon it till now-a family famous for the jealousy of its honour for many generations-think of that, Mr Davenport-that felt a stain like a wound Dav. Be calm, my dear friend. Pen. This served the purpose of a temporary concealment well enough; but when it came to the-alibi-I think they call it-excuse these technical terms, they are hardly fit for the mouth of a gentleman, the witnessesthat is another term-that I had sent for up from Melcombe Regis, and relied upon for clearing up my character, by disclosing my real name, John Pendulous-so discredited the cause which they came to serve, that it had quite a contrary effect to what was intended. In short, the usual forms passed, and you behold me here the miserablest of mankind. Dav. (Aside) He must be light-headed. Pen. Not at all, Mr Davenport. I hear what you say, though you speak it all on one side, as they do at the playhouse. Dav. The sentence could never have been carried into-pshaw!—you are joking—the truth must have come out at last. Pen. So it did, Mr Davenport-just two minutes and a second too late by the Sheriff's stop-watch. Time enough to save my life-my wretched life -but an age too late for my honour. Pray, change the subject-the detail must be as offensive to you. Dav. With all my heart, to a more pleasing theme. The lovely Maria Flyn-are you friends in that quarter, still? Have the old folks relented? Pen. They are dead, and have left her mistress of her inclinations. But it requires great strength of mind to Dav. To what? Pen. To stand up against the sneers of the world. It is not every young lady that feels herself confident against the shafts of ridicule, though aimed by the hand of prejudice. Not but in her heart, I believe, she prefers me to all mankind. But think what the world would say, if, in defiance of the opinions of mankind, she should take to her arms a-reprieved man! Dav. Whims! You might turn the laugh of the world upon itself in a fortnight. These things are but nine days' wonders. Pen. Do you think so, Mr Davenport? Dav. Where does she live? Pen. She has lodgings in the next street, in a sort of garden-house, that belongs to one Cutlet. I have not seen her since the affair. I was going there at her request. Dav. Ha, ha, ha! Pen. Why do you laugh? Dav. The oddest fellow! I will tell you--But here he comes. Enter CUTLET. Cut. (to Davenport.) Sir, the young lady at my house is desirous you should return immediately. She has heard something from home. Pen. What do I hear? Dav. 'Tis her fears, I daresay. My dear Pendulous, you will excuse me? -I must not tell him our situation at present, though it cost him a fit of jealousy. We shall have fifty opportunities for explanation. [Exit. Pen. Does that gentleman visit the lady at your lodgings? Cut. He is quite familiar there, I assure you. He is all in all with her, as they say. Pen. It is but too plain. Fool that I have been, not to suspect that, while she pretended scruples, some rival was at the root of her infidelity! Cut. You seem distressed, sir? Bless me! Cut. I am so happy to have met with him! Cut. There he goes! How he walks about biting his nails! I would not exchange this luxury of unavailing pity for worlds. Pen. Stigmatized by the world Cut. My case exactly. Let us compare notes. Pen. For an accident which Cut. For a profession which Pen. In the eye of reason has nothing in it Cut. Absolutely nothing in it Pen. Brought up at a public bar Cut. Brought up to an odious trade- Cut. With nerves like mine- Pen. By a judge and jury Cut. By an invidious exclusion disqualified for sitting upon a jury at all--Pen. Tried, cast, and Cut. What? Pen. HANGED, sir, HANGED by the neck, till I was Cut. Bless me! Pen. Why should not I publish it to the whole world, since she, whose prejudice alone I wished to overcome, deserts me? Cut. Lord have mercy upon us! not so bad as that comes to, I hope? Pen. When she joins in the judgment of an illiberal world against meCut. You said HANGED, sir-that is, I mean, perhaps I mistook you. How ghastly he looks! Pen. Fear me not, my friend. I am no ghost-though I heartily wish I were one. Cut. Why, then, ten to one you were Pen. Cut down. The odious word shall out, though it choak me. Cut. Your case must have some things in it very curious. I daresay you kept a journal of your sensations. Pen. Sensations! Cut. Aye, while you were being-you know what I mean. They say persons in your situation have lights dancing before their eyes-blueish. But then the worst of all is coming to one's self again. Pen. Plagues, furies, tormentors! I shall go mad! [Exit. Cut. There, he says he shall go mad. Well, my head has not been very right of late. It goes with a whirl and a buz somehow. I believe I must not think so deeply. Common people that don't reason know nothing of these aberrations. Great wits go mad, and small ones only dull; Distracting cares vex not the empty skull: They seize on heads that think, and hearts that feel, [Exit. END OF ACT I. |