Burgoyne John
The Heiress; a comedy, in five acts
SCENE II
An Antichamber.
Alscrip. [Without.] Dinner not ordered till seven o'clock – Bid the kitchen-maid get me some eggs and bacon. Plague, what with the time of dining and the French cookery, I am in the land of starvation, with half St. James's-Market upon my weekly bills.
Enter [while speaking the last Sentence.]
What a change have I made to please my unpleaseable daughter? Instead of my regular meal at Furnival's Inn, here am I transported to Berkeley-Square, to fast at Alscrip House, till my fine company come from their morning ride two hours after dark – Nay, it's worse, if I am carried among my great neighbours in Miss Alscrip's suite, as she calls it. My lady looks over me; my lord walks over me; and sets me in a little tottering cane chair, at the cold corner of the table – Though I have a mortgage upon the house and furniture, and arrears due of the whole interest. It's a pleasure though to be well dressed. My daughter maintains all fashions are founded in sense – Icod the tightness of my wig, and the stiffness of my cape, give me the sense of the pillory – Plaguy scanty about the hips too – And the breast something of a merrythought reversed – But there is some sense in that, for if one sex pares away in proportion where the other swells, we shall take up no more room in the world than we did before.
Enter a Servant
Serv. Sir, Miss Alscrip wishes to see you.
Alscrip. Who is with her?
Serv. Only Mrs. Blandish, sir.
Alscrip. She must content herself with that company, till I have had my whet – Order up the eggs and bacon.
[Exit.
SCENE III
Miss Alscrip discovered at her Toilet. Chignon, [her Valet de Chambre,] dressing her Head. Mrs. Blandish sitting by, and holding a Box of Diamond Pins.
Miss Als. And so, Blandish, you really think that the introduction of Otahaite feathers in my trimming succeeded?
Mrs. Blandish. Oh, with the mixture of those charming Italian flowers, and the knots of pearl that gathered up the festoons, never any thing had so happy an effect – It put the whole ball-room out of humour. Monsieur Chignon, that pin a little more to the front.
Miss Als. And what did they say?
Mrs. Blandish. You know it is the first solicitude of my life to see the friend of my heart treated with justice. So when you stood up to dance, I got into the thick of the circle – Monsieur, don't you think this large diamond would be well placed just in the middle?
Chignon. Eh! non, madame; ce ne releve pas – Dat give no relief to de weight of de curl – Full in de front un gros bouton, von great nob of diamond! pardie ce seroit un accommodage à la Polyphême; de big eye of de geant in de centre of de forehead.
Miss Als. Chignon is right in point of taste, though not quite so happy in his allusions as he is sometimes.
Chignon. Ah! Madame, you have done von grande injure to my contrée: You go for von monthe, and bring avay all de good taste – At Paris – all von side – de diamond – de cap – de glance – de bon mot même – All von side, nothing direct à Paris.
Miss Als. [Smiling at Chignon, and then turning to Mrs. Blandish.] Well! – And so —
Mrs. Blandish. So it was all admiration! Elegant, says Lady Spite – it may do very well for Miss Alscrip, who never looks at expense. The dress of a bridal princess! cries Mrs. Scanty, and for one night's wear too!
Miss Als. Delightful! the very language I wished for – Oh, how charmingly apropos was my accident! did you see when my trimming in the passe-pied of a cotilion came luckily in contact with Billy Skim's great shoe-buckle – How it ripped away?
Mrs. Blandish. Did I see it?
Miss Als. One of the great feathers stuck fast on the shoe, and looked for all the world like the heel wing of a Mercury in a pantomime.
Mrs. Blandish. Oh! you witty creature, how you describe!
Miss Als. It was a most becoming rent!
Mrs. Blandish. And what a display of indifference; what an example for a woman of fortune, did you exhibit in the bustle of picking up the scattered fragments!
Miss Als. When the pearls were trundling about, and I insisted upon the company being no longer disturbed, but would leave what remained for fairy favours to the maid who swept the room. He! he! he! Do you think Lady Emily would have done that better?
Mrs. Blandish. Lady Emily? poor girl! – How soon must she submit to be the humble second of the family.
Miss Als. He! he! he! Do you sincerely think so, Blandish? And yet it would be strange if it were otherwise, for I could buy her ten times over.
Chignon. Madame, vat humeure vould you wear to-day?
Miss Als. Humour, Chignon? What am I dressed for now?
Chignon. The parfaite aimable, madam: but my bringing de point of de hair more down to de eye-brow, or adding a little blowse to de sides, I can give you de look severe, capricieuse – vat you please.
Miss Als. We'll put it off for half an hour, I am not quite decided. I was in the capricieuse yesterday – I believe I shall keep on the perfect amiable. [Exit Chignon.] Tiffany, take off my powdering gown – Ah! ho! – How the wench tugs – do you think you are pulling off the coachman's greatcoat?
Mrs. Blandish. My dear amiable! – do not let that sweet temper be ruffled – Why will you not employ me in these little offices. Delicacy like yours should be waited upon by the softness of a sylph.
[During this Speech exit Tiffany peevishly.
Miss Als. I am promised a creature to be about me out of the common way.
Mrs. Blandish. A new woman?
Miss Als. No; something to be raised much higher, and at the same time fitted better to receive one's ill-humour. An humble companion, well born, well educated, and perfectly dependent, is a most useful appurtenance in the best families.
Mrs. Blandish. Well, do not raise her to the rank of a friend, lest I should be jealous.
Miss Als. You may be perfectly secure – I shall take particular care that friendship shall be out of the question on both sides. I had once thought of a restoration of pages to sit in scarlet and silver (as one reads in former times) upon the forepart of the coach, and to hold up one's train – but I have a new male attendant in a valet de chambre, who has possession of my bust – My two women will have the charge from the point of the shoulder to the toe – So my person being provided for – the Countess of Gayville shall have an attendant to wait upon her mind.
Mrs. Blandish. I vow a most elegant and uncommon thought.
Miss Als. One that can pen a note in the familiar, the punctilious, or the witty – It's quite troublesome to be always writing wit for one's self – But above all, she is to have a talent for music.
Mrs. Blandish. Ay, your very soul is framed for harmony.
Miss Als. I have not quite determined what to call her – Governante of the private chamber, keeper of the boudoir, with a silver key at her breast —
Enter Chignon
Chignon. Madame, a young lady beg to know if you be visible.
Miss Als. A young lady – It is not Lady Emily Gayville?
Chignon. Non, madam, but if you were absente, and I had the adjustment of her head, she would be the most charmante personne I did ever see.
Miss Als. Introduce her. [Exit Chignon.] Who can this be?
Mrs. Blandish. Some woman of taste, to inquire your correspondent at Paris – or —
Enter Miss Alton
Miss Alscrip courtesying respectfully; Miss Alton retiring disconcerted
Miss Als. Of taste indeed, by her appearance! – Who's in the antichamber? Why did they not open the folding doors? – Chignon, approach a fauteuil for the lady.
Miss Alton. Madam, I come! —
Miss Als. Madam, pray be seated —
Miss Alton. Excuse me, madam, —
Miss Als. Madam, I must beg —
Miss Alton. Madam, this letter will inform you how little pretension I have to the honours you are offering.
Miss Als. [Reads.] Miss Alton, the bearer of this, is the person I recommended as worthy the honour of attending you as a companion. [Eyes her scornfully.] She is born a gentlewoman; I dare say her talents and good qualities will speak more in her favour, than any words I could use – I am, Madam, your most obedient– um – um – . Blandish, was there ever such a mistake?
Mrs. Blandish. Oh! you dear, giddy, absent creature, what could you be thinking of?
Miss Als. Absent indeed. Chignon, give me the fauteuil; [Throws herself into it.] Young woman, where were you educated?
Miss Alton. Chiefly, madam, with my parents.
Miss Als. But finished, I take it for granted, at a country boarding school; for we have, young ladies, you know Blandish, boarded and educated, upon blue boards, in gold letters, in every village; with a strolling player for a dancing master, and a deserter from Dunkirk, to teach the French grammar.
Mrs. Blandish. How that genius of yours does paint! nothing escapes you – I dare say you have anticipated this young lady's story.
Miss Alton. It is very true, madam, my life can afford nothing to interest the curiosity of you two ladies; it has been too insignificant to merit your concern, and attended with no circumstances to excite your pleasantry.
Miss Als. [Yawning.] I hope, child, it will be attended with such for the future as will add to your own – I cannot bear a mope about me. – I am told you have a talent for music – can you touch that harp – It stands here as a piece of furniture, but I have a notion it is kept in tune, by the man who comes to wind up my clocks.
Miss Alton. Madam, I dare not disobey you. But I have been used to perform before a most partial audience; I am afraid strangers will think my talent too humble to be worthy attention.
SONG
For tenderness framed in life's earliest day,
A parent's soft sorrows to mine led the way;
The lesson of pity was caught from her eye,
And ere words were my own, I spoke in a sigh.
The nightingale plunder'd, the mate-widow'd dove,
The warbled complaint of the suffering grove,
To youth as it ripened gave sentiment new,
The object still changing, the sympathy true.
Soft embers of passion yet rest in the glow —
A warmth of more pain may this breast never know!
Or if too indulgent the blessing I claim,
Let reason awaken, and govern the flame.
Miss Als. I declare not amiss, Blandish: only a little too plaintive – but I dare say she can play a country dance, when the enlivening is required – So, Miss Alton, you are welcome to my protection; and indeed I wish you to stay from this hour. My toilet being nearly finished, I shall have a horrid vacation till dinner.
Miss Alton. Madam, you do me great honour, and I very readily obey you.
Mrs. Blandish. I wish you joy, Miss Alton, of the most enviable situation a young person of elegant talents could be raised to. You and I will vie with each other, to prevent our dear countess ever knowing a melancholy hour. She has but one fault to correct – the giving way to the soft effusions of a too tender heart.
Enter Servant
Serv. Madam, a letter —
Miss Als. It's big enough for a state packet – Oh! mercy, a petition – for Heaven's sake, Miss Alton, look it over. [Miss Alton reads.] I should as soon read one of Lady Newchapel's methodist sermons – What does it contain?
Miss Alton. Madam, an uncommon series of calamities, which prudence could neither see, nor prevent: the reverse of a whole family from affluence and content to misery and imprisonment; and it adds, that the parties have the honour, remotely, to be allied to you.
Miss Als. Remote relations! ay, they always think one's made of money.
Enter another Servant
2 Serv. A messenger, madam, from the animal repository, with the only puppy of the Peruvians, and the refusal at twenty guineas.
Miss Als. Twenty guineas! Were he to ask fifty, I must have him.
Mrs. Blandish. [Offering to run out.] I vow I'll give him the first kiss.
Miss Als. [Stopping her.] I'll swear you shan't.
Miss Alton. Madam, I was just finishing the petition.
Miss Als. It's throwing money away – But give him a crown.
[Exit with Mrs. Blandish striving which shall be first.
Miss Alton. "The soft effusions of a too tender heart." The proof is excellent. That the covetous should be deaf to the miserable, I can conceive; but I should not have believed, if I had not seen, that a taste for profusion did not find its first indulgence in benevolence.
[Exit.
ACT THE THIRD
SCENE I
Miss Alscrip's Dressing-room.
Miss Alton, discovered.
Miss Alton. Thanks to Mrs. Blandish's inexhaustible talent for encomium, I shall be relieved from one part of a companion that my nature revolts at. But who comes here? It's well if I shall not be exposed to impertinences I was not aware of.
Enter Chignon
Chignon. [Aside.] Ma foi, la voila – I will lose no time to pay my addresse – Now for de humble maniere, and de unperplex assurance of my contrée [Bowing with a French shrug. —Miss Alton turning over Music Books.] Mademoiselle, est-il permis? may I presume to offer you my profound homage [Miss Alton not taking Notice.] Mademoiselle – if you vill put your head into my hands, I vill give a distinction to your beauty, that shall make you and me de conversation of all de town.
Miss Alton. I request, Mr. Chignon, you will devote your ambition to your own part of the compliment.
Mr. Als. [Without.] Where is my daughter?
Miss Alton. Is that Mr. Alscrip's voice, Mr. Chignon? It's awkward for me to meet him before I'm introduced.
Chignon. Keep a little behind, mademoiselle; he vill only pashe de room – He vill not see through me.
Enter Alscrip
Alscrip. Hah, my daughter gone already, but [Sees Chignon.] there's a new specimen of foreign vermin – A lady's valet de chambre – Taste for ever! – Now if I was to give the charge of my person to a waiting maid, they'd say I was indelicate. [As he crosses the Stage, Chignon keeps sideling to intercept his Sight, and bowing as he looks towards him.] What the devil is mounseer at? I thought all his agility lay in his fingers: what antics is the monkey practising? He twists and doubles himself as if he had a raree-show at his back.
Chignon. [Aside.] Be gar no raree-show for you, monsieur Alscrip, if I can help.
Alscrip. [Spying Miss Alton.] Ah! ah! What have we got there? Monsieur, who is that?
Chignon. Sir, my lady wish to speak to you in her boudoir. She sent me to conduct you, sir.
Alscrip. [Imitating.] Yes, sir, but I will first conduct myself to this lady – Tell me this minute, who she is?
Chignon. Sir, she come to live here, companion to my lady – Mademoiselle study some musique – she must not be disturbed.
Alscrip. Get about your business, monsieur, or I'll disturb every comb in your head – Go tell my daughter to stay till I come to her. I shall give her companion some cautions against saucy Frenchmen, sirrah!
Chignon. [Aside.] Cautions! peste! you are subject a' cautions yourself – I suspecte you to be von old rake, but no ver dangerous rival.
[Exit.
Alscrip. [To himself, and looking at her with his Glass.] The devil is never tired of throwing baits in my way. [She comes forward modestly.] By all that's delicious! I must be better acquainted with her. [He bows. She courtesies, the Music Book still in her Hand.] But how to begin – My usual way of attacking my daughter's maids will never do.
Miss Alton. [Aside.] My situation is very embarrassing.
Alscrip. Beauteous stranger, give me leave to add my welcome to my daughter's. Since Alscrip House was established, she never brought any thing into it to please me before.
Miss Alton. [A little confused.] Sir, it is a great additional honour to that Miss Alscrip has done me, to be thought worthy so respectable a protection as yours.
Alscrip. I could furnish you with a better word than respectable. It sounds so distant, and my feelings have so little to do with cold respect – I never had such a desire – to make myself agreeable.
Miss Alton. [Aside.] A very strange old man. [To him, more confused.] Sir, you'll pardon me, I believe Miss Alscrip is waiting.
Alscrip. Don't be afraid, my dear, enchanting diffident (zounds, what a flutter am I in!) don't be afraid – my disposition, to be sure, is too susceptible; but then it is likewise so dove-like, so tender, and so innocent. Come, play me that tune, and enchant my ear, as you have done my eye.
Miss Alton. Sir, I wish to be excused, indeed it does not deserve your attention.
Alscrip. Not deserve it! I had rather hear you, than all the signoritininies together. – These are the strings to which my senses shall dance.
[Sets the Harp.
Miss Alton. Sir, it is to avoid the affectation of refusing what is so little worth asking for.
[Takes the Harp and plays a Few Bars of a lively Air.Alscrip kisses her Fingers with rapture.
Alscrip. Oh! the sweet little twiddle-diddles!
Miss Alton. For shame, sir, what do you mean?
[Alscrip gets hold of both her Hands and continues kissing her Fingers.
Miss Alton. [Struggling.] Help!
Enter Miss Alscrip
Miss Als. I wonder what my papa is doing all this time?
[A short Pause —Miss Alscrip surprised. —Miss Alton confused. —Alscrip puts his Hand to his Eye.
Alscrip. Oh, child! I have got something in my eye, that makes me almost mad. – A little midge – believe. – 'Gad, I caught hold of this young lady's hand in one of my twitches, and her nerves were as much in a flutter as if I had bit her.
Miss Als. [Significantly.] Yes, my dear papa, I perceive you have something in your eye, and I'll do my best to take it out immediately – Miss Alton, will you do me the favour to walk into the drawing room?
Miss Alton. I hope, madam, you will permit me, at a proper opportunity, to give my explanation of what has passed?
[Retires.
Miss Als. There's no occasion – Let it rest among the catalogue of wonders, like the Glastonbury thorn, that blooms at Christmas. – To be serious, papa, though I carried off your behaviour as well as I could, I am really shocked at it – A man of your years, and of a profession where the opinion of the world is of such consequence —
Alscrip. My dear Molly, have not I quitted the practice of attorney, and turned fine gentleman, to laugh at the world's opinion; or, had I not, do you suppose the kiss of a pretty wench would hurt a lawyer? My dear Molly, if the fraternity had no other reflections to be afraid of!
Miss Als. Oh! hideous, Molly indeed! you ought to have forgot I had a christened name long ago; am not I going to be a countess? If you did not stint my fortune, by squand'ring yours away upon dirty trulls, I might be called your grace.
Alscrip. Spare your lectures, and you shall be called your highness, if you please.
Enter Servant
Serv. Madam, Lady Emily Gayville is in her carriage in the street, will your ladyship be at home?
Miss Als. Yes, show her into the drawing room. [Exit Servant.] I entreat, sir, you will keep a little more guard upon your passions; consider the dignity of your house, and if you must be cooing, buy a French figurante.
[Exit.
Alscrip. Well said, my lady countess! well said, quality morals! What am I the better for burying a jealous wife? To be chicken pecked is a new persecution, more provoking than the old one – Oh Molly! Molly! —
[Exit.