Note 51 — TABLE TALK; OR, ORIGINAL ESSAYS ON MEN AND MANNERS (continued 5)

‘Girtred. For the passion of patience, look if Sir Petronel approach. That sweet, that fine, that delicate, that — for love’s sake, tell me if he come. Oh, sister Mill, though my father be a low-capt tradesman, yet I must be a lady, and I praise God my mother must call me madam. Does he come? Off with this gown for shame’s sake, off with this gown! Let not my knight take me in the city cut, in any hand! Tear’t! Pox on’t (does he come?) tear’t off! Thus while she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake. (Sings.)

Mildred. Lord, sister, with what an immodest impatiency and disgraceful scorn do you put off your city-tire! I am sorry to think you imagine to right yourself in wronging that which hath made both you and us.

Gir. I tell you, I cannot endure it: I must be a lady: do you wear your quoiff with a London licket! your stamel petticoat with two guards! the buffin gown with the tuftafitty cap and the velvet lace! I must be a lady, and I will be a lady. I like some humours of the city dames well: to eat cherries only at an angel a pound; good: to dye rich scarlet black; pretty: to line a grogram gown clean through with velvet; tolerable: their pure linen, their smocks of three pound a smock, are to be borne withal; but your mincing niceries, taffity pipkins, durance petticoats, and silver bodkins—God’s my life! as I shall be a lady, I cannot endure it.

Mil. Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with a sick wing.

Gir. Bow-bell! Alas, poor Mill, when I am a lady, I’ll pray for thee yet i’faith; nay, and I’ll vouchsafe to call thee sister Mill still; for though thou art not likely to be a lady as I am, yet surely thou art a creature of God’s making, and may’st peradventure be saved as soon as I (does he come?) And ever and anon she doubled in her song.

Mil. Now (lady’s my comfort) what a profane ape’s here!

Enter Sir Petronel Flash, Mr. Touchstone, and Mrs. Touchstone.

Gir. Is my knight come? O the lord, my band! Sister do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o’ the ear that I may seem to blush. Now, now! so, there, there! here he is! O my dearest delight! Lord, Lord! and how does my knight?

Touchstone. Fie, with more modesty.

Gir. Modesty! why, I am no citizen now. Modesty! am I not to be married? You’re best to keep me modest, now I am to be a lady.

Sir Petronel. Boldness is a good fashion, and court-like.

Gir. Aye, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be. And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?

Sir Pet. Faith, I was so entertained in the progress with one Count Epernoun, a Welsh knight: we had a match at baloon too with my Lord Whackum for four crowns.

Gir. And when shall’s be married, my knight?

Sir Pet. I am come now to consummate: and your father may call a poor knight son-in-law.

Mrs. Touchstone. Yes, that he is a knight: I know where he had money to pay the gentlemen usher and heralds their fees. Aye, that he is a knight: and so might you have been too, if you had been aught else but an ass, as well as some of your neighbours. An I thought you would not ha’ been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would ha’ dubbed you myself. I praise God, I have wherewithal. But as for you, daughter—

Gir. Aye, mother, I must be a lady to-morrow; and by your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but only in the right of my husband) I must take place of you, mother.

Mrs. Touch. That you shall, lady-daughter; and have a coach as well as I.

Gir. Yes, mother; but my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses.

Touch. Come, come, the day grows low; ’tis supper-time: and, sir, respect my daughter; she has refused for you wealthy and honest matches, known good men.

Gir. Body o’ truth, citizens, citizens! Sweet knight, as soon as ever we are married, take me to thy mercy, out of this miserable city. Presently: carry me out of the scent of Newcastle coal and the hearing of Bow-bell, I beseech thee; down with me for God’s sake.’ Act i. Scene i.

This dotage on sound and show seemed characteristic of that age (see New Way to Pay Old Debts, &c.)—as if in the grossness of sense, and the absence of all intellectual and abstract topics of thought and discourse (the thin, circulating medium of the present day) the mind was attracted without the power of resistance to the tinkling sound of its own name with a title added to it, and the image of its own person tricked out in old-fashioned finery. The effect, no doubt, was also more marked and striking from the contrast between the ordinary penury and poverty of the age and the first and more extravagant demonstrations of luxury and artificial refinement.