John Bull | Page 9

Sir Simon. A dealer in kitchen candlesticks, coal skuttles, coppers, and
cauldrons.
Shuff. And is the girl pretty?
Sir Simon. So they tell me;--a plump little devil, as round as a tea
kettle.

Shuff. I'll be after the brazier's daughter, to-morrow.
Sir Simon. But you have weight with him. Talk to him, my dear
Tom--reason with him; try your power, Tom, do!
Shuff. I don't much like plotting with the father against the son--that's
reversing the New School, Baronet.
Sir Simon. But it will serve Frank: it will serve me, who wish to serve
you. And to prove that I do wish it, I have been keeping something in
embryo for you, my dear Tom Shuffleton, against your arrival.
Shuff. For me?
Sir Simon. When you were last leaving us, if you recollect, you
mention'd, in a kind of a way, a--a sort of an intention of a loan, of an
odd five hundred pounds.
Shuff. Did I? I believe I might.--When I intend to raise money, I always
give my friends the preference.
Sir Simon. I told you I was out of cash then, I remember.
Shuff. Yes: that's just what I told you, I remember.
Sir Simon. I have the sum floating by me, now, and much at your
service. [Presenting it.
Shuff. Why, as it's lying idle, Baronet, I--I--don't much care if I employ
it. [Taking it.
Sir Simon. Use your interest with Frank, now.
Shuff. Rely on me.--Shall I give you my note?
Sir Simon. No, my dear Tom, that's an unnecessary trouble.
Shuff. Why that's true--with one who knows me so well as you.

Sir Simon. Your verbal promise to pay, is quite as good.
Shuff. I'll see if Frank's stirring. [Going.
Sir Simon. And I must talk to my steward. [Going.
Shuff. Baronet!
Sir Simon. [Returning.] Eh?
Shuff. Pray, do you employ the phrase, "verbal promise to pay,"
according to the reading of old dictionaries, or as it's the fashion to use
it at present.
Sir Simon. Oh, damn it, chuse your own reading, and I'm content.
[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.
A Dressing Room.
FRANK ROCHDALE writing; WILLIAMS attending.
Frank. [Throwing down the Pen.] It don't signify--I cannot write. I blot,
and tear; and tear, and blot; and----. Come here, Williams. Do let me
hear you, once more. Why the devil don't you come here?
Williams. I am here, sir.
Frank. Well, well; my good fellow, tell me. You found means to
deliver her the letter yesterday?
Williams. Yes, sir.
Frank. And, she read it----and----did you say, she--she was very much
affected, when she read it?
Williams. I told you last night, sir;--she look'd quite death struck, as I

may say.
Frank. [Much affected.] Did----did she weep, Williams?
Williams. No, sir; but I did afterwards--I don't know what ail'd me; but,
when I got out of the house, into the street, I'll be hang'd if I did'nt cry
like a child.
Frank. You are an honest fellow, Williams. [A Knock at the Door of the
Room.] See who is at the door. [WILLIAMS opens the Door.
Enter JOHN.
Williams. Well, what's the matter?
John. There's a man in the porter's lodge, says he won't go away
without speaking to Mr. Francis.
Frank. See who it is, Williams. Send him to me, if necessary; but don't
let me be teased, without occasion.
Williams. I'll take care, sir. [Exeunt WILLIAMS and JOHN.
Frank. Must I marry this woman, whom my father has chosen for me;
whom I expect here to-morrow? And must I, then, be told 'tis criminal
to love my poor, deserted Mary, because our hearts are illicitly attach'd?
Illicit for the heart? fine phraseology! Nature disowns the restriction; I
cannot smother her dictates with the polity of governments, and fall in,
or out of love, as the law directs.
Enter DENNIS BRULGRUDDERY.
Well, friend, who do you come from?
Dennis. I come from the Red Cow, sir.
Frank. The Red Cow?
Dennis. Yes, sir!--upon Muckslush Heath--hard by your honour's

father's house, here. I'd be proud of your custom, sir, and all the good
looking family's.
Frank. [Impatiently.] Well, well, your business?
Dennis. That's what the porter ax'd me, "Tell me your business, honest
man," says he--"I'll see you damn'd first, sir," says I:--"I'll tell it your
betters;--and that's Mr. Francis Rochdale, Esquire."
Frank. Zounds! then, why don't you tell it? I am Mr. Francis
Rochdale.--Who the devil sent you here?
Dennis. Troth, sir, it was good nature whisper'd me to come to your
honour: but I believe I've disremembered her directions, for damn the
bit do you seem acquainted with her.
Frank. Well, my good friend, I don't mean to be violent; only be so
good as to explain your business.
Dennis. Oh, with all the pleasure in life.--Give me good words, and I'm
as aisy as