The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children by Maria Edgeworth
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.
_A field near Eton College_;—_several boys crossing backwards andforwards in the back-ground_. _In front_, TALBOT, WHEELER, LORD JOHN_and_ BURSAL.
_Talbot_. Fair play, Wheeler! Have at ’em, my boy! There they stand,fair game! There’s Bursal there, with his dead forty-five votes atcommand; and Lord John with his—how many live friends?
_Lord John_ (_coolly_). Sir, I have fifty-six friends, I believe.
_Talb._ Fifty-six friends, his lordship believes—Wheeler inclusive, nodoubt.
_Lord J._ That’s as hereafter may be.
_Wheeler_. Hereafter! Oh, fie, my _lud_! You know your own Wheeler has,from the first minute he ever saw you, been your fast friend.
_Talb._ Your fast friend from the first minute he ever saw you, my lord!That’s well hit, Wheeler; stick to that; stick fast. Fifty-six friends,Wheeler _in_clusive, hey, my lord! hey, my _lud_!
_Lord J._ Talbot _ex_clusive, I find, contrary to my expectations.
_Talb._ Ay, contrary to your expectations, you find that Talbot is not adog that will lick the dust: but then there’s enough of the true spanielbreed to be had for whistling for; hey, Wheeler?
_Bursal_ (_aside to Wheeler_). A pretty electioneerer. So much thebetter for you, Wheeler. Why, unless he bought a vote, he’d never winone, if he talked from this to the day of judgment.
_Wheeler_ (_aside to Bursal_). And as he has no money to buy votes—he!he! he!—we are safe enough.
_Talb._ That’s well done, Wheeler; fight the by-battle there withBursal. Now you are sure of the main with Lord John.
_Lord J._ Sure! I never made Mr. Wheeler any promise yet.
_Wheel._ O; I ask no promise from his lordship; we are upon honour: Itrust entirely to his lordship’s good nature and generosity, and to hisregard for his own family; I having the honour, though distantly, to berelated.
_Lord J._ Related! How, Wheeler?
_Wheel._ Connected, I mean, which is next door, as I may say, to beingrelated. Related slipped out by mistake; I beg pardon, my Lord John.
_Lord J._ Related!—a strange mistake, Wheeler.
_Talb._ Overshot yourself, Wheeler; overshot yourself, by all that’sawkward. And yet, till now, I always took you for “a dead-shot at ayellow-hammer.” {151}
_Wheel._ (_taking Bursal by the arm_). Bursal, a word with you. (_Asideto Bursal_.) What a lump of family pride that Lord John is.
_Talb._ Keep out of my hearing, Wheeler, lest I should spoil sport. Butnever fear: you’ll please Bursal sooner than I shall. I can’t, for thesoul of me, bring myself to say that Bursal’s not purse-proud, and youcan. Give you joy.
_Burs._ A choice electioneerer!—ha! ha! ha!
_Wheel._ (_faintly_). He! he! he!—a choice electioneerer, as you say.
(_Exeunt Wheeler and Bursal_; _manent Lord J. and Talbot_.)
_Lord J._ There was a time, Talbot—
_Talb._ There was a time, my lord—to save trouble and a longexplanation—there was a time when you liked Talbots better than spaniels;you understand me?
_Lord J._ I have found it very difficult to understand you of late, Mr.Talbot.
_Talb._ Yes, because you have used other people’s understandings insteadof your own. Be yourself, my lord. See with your own eyes, and hearwith your own ears, and then you’ll find me still, what I’ve been theseseven years; not your understrapper, your hanger-on, your flatterer, butyour friend! If you choose to have me for a friend, here’s my hand. Iam your friend, and you’ll not find a better.
_Lord J._ (_giving his hand_). You are a strange fellow, Talbot; Ithought I never could have forgiven you for what you said last night.
_Talb._ What? for I don’t keep a register of my sayings. Oh, it wassomething about gaming—Wheeler was flattering your taste for it, and heput me into a passion—I forget what I said. But, whatever it was, I’msure it was well meant, and I believe it was well said.
_Lord J._ But you laugh at me sometimes to my face.
_Talb._ Would you rather I should laugh at you behind your back?
_Lord J._ But of all things in the world I hate to be laughed at.Listen to me, and don’t fumble in your pockets while I’m talking to you.
_Talb._ I’m fumbling for—oh, here it is. Now, Lord John, I once didlaugh at you behind your back, and what’s droll enough, it was at yourback I laughed. Here’s a caricature I drew of you—I really am sorry Idid it; but ’tis best to show it to you myself.
_Lord J._ (_aside_). It is all I can do to forgive this. (_After apause, he tears the paper_.) I have heard of this caricature before; butI did not expect, Talbot, that you would come and show it to me,yourself, Talbot, so handsomely, especially at such a time as this.Wheeler might well say you are a bad electioneerer.
_Talb._ Oh, hang it! I forgot my election, and your fifty-six friends.
_Enter_ RORY O’RYAN.
_Rory_ (_claps Talbot on the back_). Fifty-six friends, have you,Talbot? Say seven—fifty-seven, I mean; for I’ll lay you a wager, you’veforget me; and that’s a shame for you, too; for out of the wholeposse-comitatus entirely now, you have not a stauncher friend than Poorlittle Rory O’Ryan. And a good right he has to befriend you; for youstood by him when many who ought to have known better were hunting himdown for a wild Irishman. Now that same wild Irishman has as muchgratitude in him as any tame Englishman of them all. But don’t let’s betalking sintimint; for, for my share I’d not give a bogberry a bushel forsintimint, when I could get anything better.
_Lord J._ And pray, sir, what may a bogberry be?
_Rory_. Phoo! don’t be playing the innocent, now. Where have you livedall your life (I ask pardon, my l_a_rd) not to know a bogberry when yousee or hear of it? (_Turns to Talbot_.) But what are ye standing idlinghere for? Sure, there’s Wheeler, and Bursal along with him, canvassingout yonder at a terrible fine rate. And haven’t I been huzzaing for youthere till I’m hoarse? So I am, and just stepped away to suck an orangefor my voice—(_sucks an orange_.) I am a _thorough going_ friend, atanyrate.
_Talb._ Now, Rory, you are the best fellow in the world, and a _thoroughgoing_ friend; but have a care, or you’ll get yourself and me into somescrape, before you have done with this violent _thorough going_ work.
_Rory_. Never fear! never fear, man!—a warm frind and a bitter enemy,that’s my maxim.
_Talb._ Yes, but too warm a _friend_ is as bad as a bitter enemy.
_Rory_. Oh, never fear me! I’m as cool as a cucumber all the time; andwhilst they _tink_ I’m _tinking_ of nothing in life but making a noise, Imake my own snug little remarks in prose and verse, as—now my voice isafter coming back to me, you shall hear, if you _plase_.
_Talb._ I do please.
_Rory_. I call it Rory’s song. Now, mind, I have a verse foreverybody—o’ the leading lads, I mean; and I shall put ’em in or _lave_’em out, according to their inclinations and deserts, _wise-a-wee_ toyou, my little _frind_. So you comprehend it will be Rory’s song, withvariations.
_Talbot and Lord John_. Let’s have it; let’s have it without furtherpreface.
_Rory sings_.
“I’m true game to the last, and no WHEELER for me.”
_Rory_. There’s a stroke, in the first place, for Wheeler,—you take it?
_Talb._ O yes, yes, we take it; go on.
_Rory sings_.
“I’m true game to the last, and no Wheeler for me. Of all birds, beasts, or fishes, that swim in the sea, Webb’d or finn’d, black or white, man or child, Whig or Tory, None but Talbot, O, Talbot’s the dog for Rory.”
_Talb._ “Talbot the dog” is much obliged to you.
_Lord J._ But if I have any ear, one of your lines is a foot too long,Mr. O’Ryan.
_Rory_. Phoo, put the best foot foremost for a _frind_. Slur it in thesi
_Rory sings_.
“Then there’s he with the purse that’s as long as my arm.”
_Rory_. That’s Bursal, mind now, whom I mean to allude to in this verse.
_Lord J._ If the allusion’s good, we shall probably find out yourmeaning.
_Talb._ On with you, Rory, and don’t read us notes on a song.
_Lord J._ Go on, and let us hear what you say of Bursal.
_Rory sings_.
“Then there’s he with the purse that’s as long as my arm; His father’s a tanner,—but then where’s the harm? Heir to houses, and hunters, and horseponds in fee, Won’t his skins sure soon buy him a pedigree?”
_Lord J._ Encore! encore! Why, Rory, I did not think you could make sogood a song.
_Rory_. Sure ’twas none of I made it—’twas Talbot here.
_Talb._ I!
_Rory_ (_aside_). Not a word: I’ll make you a present of it: sure, then,it’s your own.
_Talb._ I never wrote a word of it.
_Rory_ (_to Lord J._). Phoo, Phoo! he’s only denying it out of falsemodesty.
_Lord. J._ Well, no matter who wrote it,—sing it again.
_Rory_. Be easy; so I will, and as many more verses as you will to theback of it. (_Winking at Talbot aside_.) You shall have the credit ofall. (_Aloud_.) Put me in when I’m out, Talbot, and you (_to LordJohn_) join—join.
_Rory sings, and Lord John sings with him_.
“Then there’s he with the purse that’s as long as my arm; His father’s a tanner,—but then where’s the harm? Heir to houses, and hunters, and horseponds in fee, Won’t his skins sure soon buy him a pedigree? There’s my lord with the back that never was bent—”
(_Lord John stops singing_; _Talbot makes signs to Rory to stop_; _butRory does not see him_, _and sings on_.)
“There’s my lord with the back that never was bent; Let him live with his ancestors, I am content.”
(_Rory pushes Lord J. and Talbot with his elbows_.)
_Rory_. Join, join, both of ye—why don’t you join? (_Sings_.)
“Who’ll buy my Lord John? the arch fishwoman cried, A nice oyster shut up in a choice shell of pride.”
_Rory_. But join or ye spoil all.
_Talb._ You have spoiled all, indeed.
_Lord J._ (_making a formal low bow_). Mr. Talbot, Lord John thanks you.
_Rory_. Lord John! blood and thunder! I forgot you were by—quite andclean.
_Lord J._ (_puts him aside and continues speaking to Talbot_). Lord Johnthanks you, Mr. Talbot: this is the second part of the caricature. LordJohn thanks you for these proofs of friendship—Lord John has reason tothank you, Mr. Talbot.
_Rory_. No reason in life now. Don’t be thanking so much for nothing inlife; or if you must be thanking of somebody, it’s me you ought to thank.
_Lord J._ I ought and do, sir, for unmasking one who—
_Talb._ (_warmly_). Unmasking, my lord—
_Rory_ (_holding them asunder_). Phoo! phoo! phoo! be easy, can’tye?—there’s no unmasking at all in the case. My Lord John, Talbot’swriting the song was all a mistake.
_Lord J._ As much a mistake as your singing it, sir, I presume—
_Rory_. Just as much. ’Twas all a mistake. So now don’t you go andmake a mistake into a misunderstanding. It was I made every word of thesong _out o’ the face_ {155}—that about the back that never was bent, andthe ancestors of the oyster, and all. He did not waste a word of it;upon my conscience, I wrote it all—though I’ll engage you didn’t think Icould write a good thing. (_Lord John turns away_.) I’m telling you thetruth, and not a word of a lie, and yet you won’t believe me.
_Lord J._ You will excuse me, sir, if I cannot believe two contradictoryassertions within two minutes. Mr. Talbot, I thank you (_going_).
(_Rory tries to stop Lord John from going_, _but cannot_.—_Exit Lord John_.)
_Rory_. Well, if he _will_ go, let him go then, and much good may it dohim. Nay, but don’t you go too.
_Talb._ O Rory, what have you done?—(_Talbot runs after Lord J._) Hearme, my lord.
(_Exit Talbot_.)
_Rory_. Hear him! hear him! hear him!—Well, I’m point blank mad withmyself for making this blunder; but how could I help it? As sure as everI am meaning to do the best thing on earth, it turns out the worst.
_Enter a party of lads_, _huzzaing_.
_Rory_ (_joins_.) Huzza! huzza!—Who, pray, are ye huzzaing for?
1_st_ _Boy_. Wheeler! Wheeler for ever! huzza!
_Rory_. Talbot! Talbot for ever! huzza! Captain Talbot for ever! huzza!
2_nd_ _Boy_. _Captain_ he’ll never be,—at least not to-morrow; for LordJohn has just declared for Wheeler.
1_st_ _Boy_. And that turns the scale.
_Rory_. Oh, the scale may turn back again.
3_rd_ _Boy_. Impossible! Lord John has just given his promise toWheeler. I heard him with my own ears.
(_Several speak at once_.) And I heard him; and I! and I! and I!—Huzza!Wheeler for ever!
_Rory_. Oh, murder! murder! murder! (_Aside_.) This goes to my heart!it’s all my doing. O, my poor Talbot!—murder! murder! murder! But Iwon’t let them see me cast down, and it is good to be huzzaing at allevents. Huzza for Talbot! Talbot for ever! huzza!
(_Exit_.)
_Enter_ WHEELER _and_ BURSAL.
_Wheel._ Who was that huzzaing for Talbot?
(_Rory behind the scenes_, “Huzza for Talbot! Talbot for ever! huzza!”)
_Burs._ Pooh, it is only Rory O’Ryan, or the roaring lion as I call him.Ha! ha! ha! Rory O’Ryan, alias O’Ryan, the roaring lion; that’s a goodone; put it about—Rory O’Ryan, the roaring lion, ha! ha! ha! but youdon’t take it—you don’t laugh, Wheeler.
_Wheeler_. Ha! ha! ha! O, upon my honour I do laugh; ha! ha! ha!(_Aside_). It is the hardest work to laugh at his wit. (_Aloud_.) RoryO’Ryan, the roaring lion—ha! ha! ha! You know I always laugh, Bursal, atyour jokes—he! he! he!—ready to kill myself.
_Burs._ (_sullenly_). You are easily killed, then, if that much laughingwill do the business.
_Wheel._ (_coughing_). Just then—something stuck in my throat; I begyour pardon.
_Burs._ (_still sullen_). Oh, you need not beg my pardon about thematter. I don’t care whether you laugh or no—not I. Now you have gotLord John to declare for you, you are above laughing at my jokes, Isuppose.
_Wheel._ No, upon my word and honour, I _did_ laugh.
_Burs._ (_aside_). A fig for your word and honour. (_Aloud_.) I knowI’m of no consequence now; but you’ll remember, that if his lordship hasthe honour of making you captain, he must have the honour to pay for yourcaptain’s accoutrements; for I sha’n’t pay the piper, I promise you,since I’m of no consequence.
_Wheel._ Of no consequence! But, my dear Bursal, what could put thatinto your head? that’s the strangest, oddest fancy. Of no consequence!Bursal, of no consequence! Why, everybody that knows anything—everybodythat has seen Bursal House—knows that you are of the greatestconsequence, my dear Bursal.
_Burs._ (_taking out his watch_, _and opening it_, _looks at it_). No,I’m of no consequence. I wonder that rascal Finsbury is not come yetwith the dresses (_still looking at his watch_).
_Wheel._ (_aside_). If Bursal takes it into his head not to lend me themoney to pay for my captain’s dress, what will become of me? for I havenot a shilling—and Lord John won’t pay for me—and Finsbury has orders notto leave the house till he is paid by everybody. What
_Burs._ (_aside_). How I love to make him bite his nails! (_Aloud_.) Iknow I’m of no consequence. (_Strikes his repeater_.)
_Wheel._ What a fine repeater that is of yours, Bursal! It is the bestI ever heard.
_Burs._ So it well may be; for it cost a mint of money.
_Wheel._ No matter to you what anything costs. Happy dog as you are!You roll in money; and yet you talk of being of no consequence.
_Burs._ But I am not of half so much consequence as Lord John—am I?
_Wheel._ Are you? Why, aren’t you twice as rich as he!
_Burs._ Very true, but I’m not purse-proud.
_Wheel._ You purse-proud! I should never have thought of such a thing.
_Burs._ Nor I, if Talbot had not used the word.
_Wheel._ But Talbot thinks everybody purse-proud that has a purse.
_Burs._ (_aside_). Well, this Wheeler does put one into a good humourwith one’s self in spite of one’s teeth. (_Aloud_.) Talbot says bluntthings; but I don’t think he’s what you can call clever—hey, Wheeler?
_Wheel._ Clever? Oh, not he.
_Burs._ I think I could walk round him.
_Wheel._ To be sure you could. Why, do you know, I’ve quizzed himfamously myself within this quarter of an hour!
_Burs._ Indeed! I wish I had been by.
_Wheel._ So do I, ’faith! It was the best thing. I wanted, you see, toget him out of my way, that I might have the field clear forelectioneering to-day. So I bowls up to him with a long face—such a faceas this. Mr. Talbot, do you know—I’m sorry to tell you, here’s JackSmith has just brought the news from Salt Hill. Your mother, in gettinginto the carriage, slipped, and has _broke_ her leg, and there she’slying at a farmhouse, two miles off. Is not it true, Jack? said I. Isaw the farmer helping her in with my own eyes, cries Jack. Off goesTalbot like an arrow. Quizzed him, quizzed him! said I.
_Burs._ Ha! ha! ha! quizzed him indeed, with all his cleverness; thatwas famously done.
_Wheel._ Ha! ha! ha! With all his cleverness he will be all the eveninghunting for the farmhouse and the mother that has broke her leg; so he isout of our way.
_Burs._ But what need have you to want him out of your way, now LordJohn has come over to your side? You have the thing at a dead beat.
_Wheel._ Not so dead either; for there’s a great independent party, youknow; and if _you_ don’t help me, Bursal, to canvass them, I shall be nocaptain. It is you I depend upon after all. Will you come and canvassthem with me? Dear Bursal, pray—all depends upon you.
(_Pulls him by the arm—Bursal follows_.)
_Burs._ Well, if all depends upon me, I’ll see what I can do for you.(_Aside_.) Then I am of some consequence! Money makes a man of someconsequence, I see; at least with some folks.
SCENE II.
_In the back scene a flock of sheep are seen penned_. _In front_, _aparty of country lads and lasses_, _gaily dressed_, _as in sheep-shearingtime_, _with ribands and garlands of flowers_, _etc._, _are dancing andsinging_.
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_Enter_ PATTY, _dressed as the Queen of the Festival_, _with a lamb inher arms_. _The dancers break off when she comes in_, _and direct theirattention towards her_.
1_st_ _Peasant_. Oh, here comes Patty! Here comes the Queen o’ the day.What has kept you from us so long, Patty?
2_nd_ _Peasant_. “_Please your Majesty_,” you should say.
_Patty_. This poor little lamb of mine was what kept me so long. Itstrayed away from the rest; and I should have lost him, so I should, forever, if it had not been for a good young gentleman. Yonder he is,talking to Farmer Hearty. That’s the young gentleman who pulled my lambout of the ditch for me, into which he had fallen—pretty creature!
1_st_ _Peasant_. Pretty creature—or, your Majesty, whichever you chooseto be called—come and dance with them, and I’ll carry your lamb.
(_Exeunt_, _singing and dancing_.)
_Enter_ FARMER HEARTY _and_ TALBOT.
_Farmer_. Why, young gentleman, I’m glad I happened to light upon youhere, and so to hinder you from going farther astray, and set your heartat ease like.
_Talb._ Thanks, good farmer, you have set my heart at ease, indeed. Butthe truth is, they did frighten me confoundedly—more fool I.
_Farm._ No fool at all, to my notion. I should, at your age, ay, or atmy age, just the self-same way have been frightened myself, if so be thatmention had been made to me, that way, of my own mother’s having brokeher leg or so. And greater, by a great deal, the shame for them thatfrighted you, than for you to be frighted. How young gentlemen, now, canbring themselves for to tell such lies, is to me, now, a matter ofamazement, like, that I can’t noways get over.
_Talb._ Oh, farmer, such lies are very witty, though you and I don’tjust now like the wit of them. This is fun, this is quizzing; but youdon’t know what we young gentlemen mean by quizzing.
_Farm._ Ay, but I do though, to my cost, ever since last year. Lookyou, now, at yon fine field of wheat. Well, it was just as fine, andfiner, last year, till a young Eton jackanapes—
_Talb._ Take care what you say, farmer; for I am a young Etonjackanapes.
_Farm._ No; but you be not the young Eton jackanapes that I’m a-thinkingon. I tell you it was this time last year, man; he was a-horseback, Itell ye, mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting, like.
_Talb._ I tell you it was this time last year, man, that I was mountedupon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting.
_Farm._ Zooks! would you argufy a man out of his wits? You won’t go forto tell me that you are that impertinent little jackanapes!
_Talb._ No! no! I’ll not tell you that I am an impertinent littlejackanapes!
_Farm._ (_wiping his forehead_). Well, don’t then, for I can’t believeit; and you put me out. Where was I?
_Talb._ Mounted upon a fine bay hunter.
_Farm._ Ay, so he was. “Here, _you_,” says he, meaning me—“open thisgate for me.” Now, if he had but a-spoke me fair, I would not havegainsaid him: but he falls to swearing, so I bid him open the gate forhimself. “There’s a bull behind you, farmer,” says he. I turns.“Quizzed him!” cries my jackanapes, and off he gallops him, through thevery thick of my corn; but he got a fall, leaping the ditch out yonder,which pacified me, like, at the minute. So I goes up to see whether hewas killed; but he was not a whit the worse for his tumble. So I shouldha’ fell into a passion with him then, to be sure, about my corn; but hishorse had got such a terrible sprain, I couldn’t say anything to him; forI was a-pitying the poor animal. As fine a hunter as ever you saw! I amsartain sure he could never come to good after.
_Talb._ (_aside_). I do think, from the description, that this wasWheeler; and I have paid for the horse which he spoiled! (_Aloud_.)Should you know either the man or the horse again, if you were to seethem?
_Farm._ Ay, that I should, to my dying day.
_Talb._ Will you come with me, then, and you’ll do me some guineas’worth of service?
_Farm._ Ay, that I will, with a deal of pleasure; for you be a civilspoken young gentleman; and, besides, I don’t think the worse on you forbeing _frighted_ a little about your mother; being what I might ha’ been,at your age, myself; for I had a mother myself once. So lead on, master.
(_Exeunt_.)
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
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