Act 2 — SCENE.—Police-Office.

JUSTICE, FLINT, OFFICERS, &c.

JUSTICE Before we proceed to extremities, Mr. Flint, let me entreat you to consider the consequences. What will the world say to your exposing your own child?

FLINT The world is not my friend. I belong to a profession which has long brought me acquainted with its injustice. I return scorn for scorn, and desire its censure above its plaudits.

JUSTICE But in this case delicacy must make you pause.

FLINT Delicacy—ha! ha!—pawnbroker—how fitly these words suit. Delicate pawnbroker—delicate devil—let the law take its course.

JUSTICE Consider, the jewels are found.

FLINT 'Tis not the silly baubles I regard. Are you a man? are you a father? and think you I could stoop so low, vile as I stand here, as to make money—filthy money—of the stuff which a daughter's touch has desecrated? Deep in some pit first I would bury them.

JUSTICE Yet pause a little. Consider. An only child.

FLINT Only, only,—there, it is that stings me, makes me mad. She was the only thing I had to love me—to bear me up against the nipping injuries of the world. I prate when I should act. Bring in your prisoner.

(The Justice makes signs to an Officer, who goes out, and returns with Miss Flyn.)

FLINT What mockery of my sight is here? This is no daughter.

OFFICER Daughter, or no daughter, she has confessed to this casket.

FLINT (Handling it.) The very same. Was it in the power of these pale splendours to dazzle the sight of honesty—to put out the regardful eye of piety and daughter-love? Why, a poor glow-worm shews more brightly. Bear witness how I valued them—(tramples on them).—Fair lady, know you aught of my child?

MISS FLYN I shall here answer no questions.

JUSTICE You must explain how you came by the jewels, madam.

MISS FLYN (Aside.) Now confidence assist me!——A gentleman in the neighbourhood will answer for me——

JUSTICE His name——

MISS FLYN Pendulous——

JUSTICE That lives in the next street?

MISS FLYN The same——now I have him sure.

JUSTICE Let him be sent for. I believe the gentleman to be respectable, and will accept his security.

FLINT Why do I waste my time, where I have no business? None—I have none any more in the world—none.

Enter Pendulous.

PENDULOUS What is the meaning of this extraordinary summons?—Maria here?

FLINT Know you any thing of my daughter, Sir?

PENDULOUS Sir, I neither know her nor yourself, nor why I am brought hither; but for this lady, if you have any thing against her, I will answer it with my life and fortunes.

JUSTICE Make out the bail-bond.

OFFICER (Surveying Pendulous.) Please, your worship, before you take that gentleman's bond, may I have leave to put in a word?

PENDULOUS (Agitated.) I guess what is coming.

OFFICER I have seen that gentleman hold up his hand at a criminal bar.

JUSTICE Ha!

MISS FLYN (Aside.) Better and better.

OFFICER My eyes cannot deceive me. His lips quivered about, while he was being tried, just as they do now. His name is not Pendulous.

MISS FLYN Excellent!

OFFICER He pleaded to the name of Thomson at York assizes.

JUSTICE Can this be true?

MISS FLYN I could kiss the fellow!

OFFICER He was had up for a footpad.

MISS FLYN A dainty fellow!

PENDULOUS My iniquitous fate pursues me everywhere.

JUSTICE You confess, then.

PENDULOUS I am steeped in infamy.

MISS FLYN I am as deep in the mire as yourself.

PENDULOUS My reproach can never be washed out.

MISS FLYN Nor mine.

PENDULOUS I am doomed to everlasting shame.

MISS FLYN We are both in a predicament.

JUSTICE I am in a maze where all this will end.

MISS FLYN But here comes one who, if I mistake not, will guide us out of all our difficulties.

Enter Marian and Davenport.

MARIAN (Kneeling.) My dear father!

FLINT Do I dream?

MARIAN I am your Marian.

JUSTICE Wonders thicken!

FLINT The casket—

MISS FLYN Let me clear up the rest.

FLINT The casket—

MISS FLYN Was inadvertently in your daughter's hand, when, by an artifice of her maid Lucy,—set on, as she confesses, by this gentleman here,—

DAVENPORT I plead guilty.

MISS FLYN She was persuaded, that you were in a hurry going to marry her to an object of her dislike; nay, that he was actually in the house for the purpose. The speed of her flight admitted not of her depositing the jewels; but to me, who have been her inseparable companion since she quitted your roof, she intrusted the return of them; which the precipitate measures of this gentleman (pointing to the Officer) alone prevented. Mr. Cutlet, whom I see coming, can witness this to be true.

Enter Cutlet, in haste.

CUTLET Aye, poor lamb! poor lamb! I can witness. I have run in such a haste, hearing how affairs stood, that I have left my shambles without a protector. If your worship had seen how she cried (pointing to Marian), and trembled, and insisted upon being brought to her father. Mr. Davenport here could not stay her.

FLINT I can forbear no longer. Marian, will you play once again, to please your old father?

MARIAN I have a good mind to make you buy me a new grand piano for your naughty suspicions of me.

DAVENPORT What is to become of me?

FLINT I will do more than that. The poor lady shall have her jewels again.

MARIAN Shall she?

FLINT Upon reasonable terms (smiling). And now, I suppose, the court may adjourn.

DAVENPORT Marian!

FLINT I guess what is passing in your mind, Mr. Davenport; but you have behaved upon the whole so like a man of honour, that it will give me pleasure, if you will visit at my house for the future; but (smiling) not clandestinely, Marian.

MARIAN Hush, father.

FLINT I own I had prejudices against gentry. But I have met with so much candour and kindness among my betters this day—from this gentleman in particular—(turning to the Justice)—that I begin to think of leaving off business, and setting up for a gentleman myself.

JUSTICE You have the feelings of one.

FLINT Marian will not object to it.

JUSTICE But (turning to Miss Flyn) what motive could induce this lady to take so much disgrace upon herself, when a word's explanation might have relieved her?

MISS FLYN This gentleman (turning to Pendulous) can explain.

PENDULOUS The devil!

MISS FLYN This gentleman, I repeat it, whose backwardness in concluding a long and honourable suit from a mistaken delicacy—

PENDULOUS How!

MISS FLYN Drove me upon the expedient of involving myself in the same disagreeable embarrassments with himself, in the hope that a more perfect sympathy might subsist between us for the future.

PENDULOUS I see it—I see it all.

JUSTICE (To Pendulous.) You were then tried at York?

PENDULOUS I was—CAST—

JUSTICE Condemned—

PENDULOUS EXECUTED.

JUSTICE How?

PENDULOUS CUT DOWN and CAME TO LIFE AGAIN. False delicacy, adieu! The true sort, which this lady has manifested—by an expedient which at first sight might seem a little unpromising, has cured me of the other. We are now on even terms.

MISS FLYN And may—

PENDULOUS Marry,—I know it was your word.

MISS FLYN And make a very quiet—

PENDULOUS Exemplary—

MISS FLYN Agreeing pair of—

PENDULOUS ACQUITTED FELONS.

FLINT And let the prejudiced against our profession acknowledge, that a money-lender may have the heart of a father; and that in the casket, whose loss grieved him so sorely, he valued nothing so dear as (turning to Marian) one poor domestic jewel.

* * * * *

THE WIFE'S TRIAL; OR, THE INTRUDING WIDOW

A DRAMATIC POEM

Founded on Mr. Crabbe's Tale of "The Confidant."

(1827)

* * * * *

CHARACTERS

MR. SELBY,—a Wiltshire Gentleman_. KATHERINE, Wife to Selby. LUCY, Sister to Selby. MRS. FRAMPTON, a Widow. SERVANTS.

SCENE.—At Mr. Selby's house, or in the grounds adjacent.

* * * * *

SCENE—A Library.

MR. SELBY, KATHERINE.

SELBY Do not too far mistake me, gentlest wife; I meant to chide your virtues, not yourself, And those too with allowance. I have not Been blest by thy fair side with five white years Of smooth and even wedlock, now to touch With any strain of harshness on a string Hath yielded me such music. 'Twas the quality Of a too grateful nature in my Katherine, That to the lame performance of some vows, And common courtesies of man to wife, Attributing too much, hath sometimes seem'd To esteem in favours, what in that blest union Are but reciprocal and trivial dues, As fairly yours as mine: 'twas this I thought Gently to reprehend.

KATHERINE In friendship's barter The riches we exchange should hold some level, And corresponding worth. Jewels for toys Demand some thanks thrown in. You took me, sir, To that blest haven of my peace, your bosom, An orphan founder'd in the world's black storm. Poor, you have made me rich; from lonely maiden, Your cherish'd and your full-accompanied wife.

SELBY But to divert the subject: Kate too fond, I would not wrest your meanings; else that word Accompanied, and full-accompanied too, Might raise a doubt in some men, that their wives Haply did think their company too long; And over-company, we know by proof, Is worse than no attendance.

KATHERINE I must guess, You speak this of the Widow—

SELBY 'Twas a bolt At random shot; but if it hit, believe me, I am most sorry to have wounded you Through a friend's side. I know not how we have swerved From our first talk. I was to caution you Against this fault of a too grateful nature: Which, for some girlish obligations past, In that relenting season of the heart, When slightest favours pass for benefits Of endless binding, would entail upon you An iron slavery of obsequious duty To the proud will of an imperious woman.

KATHERINE The favours are not slight to her I owe.

SELBY Slight or not slight, the tribute she exacts Cancels all dues—[A voice within.] even now I hear her call you In such a tone, as lordliest mistresses Expect a slave's attendance. Prithee, Kate, Let her expect a brace of minutes or so. Say, you are busy. Use her by degrees To some less hard exactions.

KATHERINE I conjure you, Detain me not. I will return—

SELBY Sweet wife Use thy own pleasure—[Exit Katherine.] but it troubles me. A visit of three days, as was pretended, Spun to ten tedious weeks, and no hint given When she will go! I would this buxom Widow Were a thought handsomer! I'd fairly try My Katherine's constancy; make desperate love In seeming earnest; and raise up such broils, That she, not I, should be the first to warn The insidious guest depart.

Re-enter Katherine.

So soon return'd! What was our Widow's will?

KATHERINE A trifle, Sir.

SELBY Some toilet service-to adjust her head, Or help to stick a pin in the right place—

KATHERINE Indeed 'twas none of these.

SELBY or new vamp up The tarnish'd cloak she came in. I have seen her Demand such service from thee, as her maid, Twice told to do it, would blush angry-red, And pack her few clothes up. Poor fool! fond slave! And yet my dearest Kate!—This day at least (It is our wedding-day) we spend in freedom, And will forget our Widow.—Philip, our coach— Why weeps my wife? You know, I promised you An airing o'er the pleasant Hampshire downs To the blest cottage on the green hill side, Where first I told my love. I wonder much, If the crimson parlour hath exchanged its hue For colours not so welcome. Faded though it be, It will not shew less lovely than the tinge Of this faint red, contending with the pale, Where once the full-flush'd health gave to this cheek An apt resemblance to the fruit's warm side, That bears my Katherine's name.—

Our carriage, Philip.

Enter a Servant.

Now, Robin, what make you here?

SERVANT May it please you, The coachman has driven out with Mrs. Frampton.

SELBY He had no orders—

SERVANT None, Sir, that I know of, But from the lady, who expects some letter At the next Post Town.

SELBY Go, Robin.

[Exit Servant.]

How is this?

KATHERINE I came to tell you so, but fear'd your anger—

SELBY It was ill done though of this Mistress Frampton, This forward Widow. But a ride's poor loss Imports not much. In to your chamber, love, Where you with music may beguile the hour, While I am tossing over dusty tomes, Till our most reasonable friend returns.

KATHERINE I am all obedience. [Exit Katherine]

SELBY Too obedient, Kate, And to too many masters. I can hardly On such a day as this refrain to speak My sense of this injurious friend, this pest, This household evil, this close-clinging fiend, In rough terms to my wife. 'Death! my own servants Controll'd above me! orders countermanded!' What next? _[Servant enters and announces the Sister]

Enter Lucy.

Sister! I know you are come to welcome This day's return. 'Twas well done.

LUCY You seem ruffled. In years gone by this day was used to be The smoothest of the year. Your honey turn'd So soon to gall?

SELBY Gall'd am I, and with cause, And rid to death, yet cannot get a riddance, Nay, scarce a ride, by this proud Widow's leave.

LUCY Something you wrote me of a Mistress Frampton.

SELBY She came at first a meek admitted guest, Pretending a short stay; her whole deportment Seem'd as of one obliged. A slender trunk, The wardrobe of her scant and ancient clothing, Bespoke no more. But in a few days her dress, Her looks, were proudly changed. And now she flaunts it In jewels stolen or borrow'd from my wife; Who owes her some strange service, of what nature I must be kept in ignorance. Katherine's meek And gentle spirit cowers beneath her eye, As spell-bound by some witch.

LUCY Some mystery hangs on it. How bears she in her carriage towards yourself?

SELBY As one who fears, and yet not greatly cares For my displeasure. Sometimes I have thought, A secret glance would tell me she could love, If I but gave encouragement. Before me She keeps some moderation; but is never Closeted with my wife, but in the end I find my Katherine in briny tears. From the small chamber, where she first was lodged, The gradual fiend by specious wriggling arts Has now ensconced herself in the best part Of this large mansion; calls the left wing her own; Commands my servants, equipage.—I hear Her hated tread. What makes she back so soon?

Enter Mrs. Frampton.

MRS. FRAMPTON O, I am jolter'd, bruised, and shook to death, With your vile Wiltshire roads. The villain Philip Chose, on my conscience, the perversest tracks, And stoniest hard lanes in all the county, Till I was fain get out, and so walk back, My errand unperform'd at Andover.

LUCY And I shall love the knave for ever after. [Aside.]

MRS. FRAMPTON A friend with you!

SELBY My eldest sister, Lucy, Come to congratulate this returning morn.— Sister, my wife's friend, Mistress Frampton.

MRS. FRAMPTON Pray Be seated. For your brother's sake, you are welcome. I had thought this day to have spent in homely fashion With the good couple, to whose hospitality I stand so far indebted. But your coming Makes it a feast.

LUCY

She does the honours naturally—[Aside.]

SELBY

As if she were the mistress of the house—[Aside.]

MRS. FRAMPTON I love to be at home with loving friends. To stand on ceremony with obligations, Is to restrain the obliger. That old coach, though, Of yours jumbles one strangely.

SELBY I shall order An equipage soon, more easy to you, madam—

LUCY To drive her and her pride to Lucifer, I hope he means. [Aside.]

MRS. FRAMPTON I must go trim myself; this humbled garb Would shame a wedding feast. I have your leave For a short absence?—and your Katherine—

SELBY You'll find her in her closet—

MRS. FRAMPTON Fare you well, then. [Exit.]

SELBY How like you her assurance?

LUCY Even so well, That if this Widow were my guest, not yours, She should have coach enough, and scope to ride. My merry groom should in a trice convey her To Sarum Plain, and set her down at Stonehenge, To pick her path through those antiques at leisure; She should take sample of our Wiltshire flints. O, be not lightly jealous! nor surmise, That to a wanton bold-faced thing like this Your modest shrinking Katherine could impart Secrets of any worth, especially Secrets that touch'd your peace. If there be aught, My life upon't, 'tis but some girlish story Of a First Love; which even the boldest wife Might modestly deny to a husband's ear, Much more your timid and too sensitive Katherine.

SELBY I think it is no more; and will dismiss My further fears, if ever I have had such.

LUCY Shall we go walk? I'd see your gardens, brother; And how the new trees thrive, I recommended. Your Katherine is engaged now—

SELBY I'll attend you. [Exeunt.]