John Bull | Page 4

We have any thing you desire.
Dennis. Yes, we have any thing. Any thing's nothing, they say. [Aside.
Mrs. Brul. Dan, bustle about; and see the room ready, and all tidy; do you hear?
Dan. I wull.
Mrs. Brul. What would you like to drink, sir?
Pereg. O, mine is an accommodating palate, hostess. I have swallowed burgundy with the French, hollands with the Dutch, sherbet with a Turk, sloe juice with an Englishman, and water with a simple Gentoo.
Dan. [Going.] Dang me, but he's a rum customer! It's my opinion, he'll take a fancy to our sour beer. [Exit into the House
Pereg. Is your house far from the sea-shore?
Mrs. Brul. About three miles, sir.
Pereg. So!--And I have wandered upon the heath four hours, before day-break.
Mrs. Brul. Lackaday! has any thing happened to you, sir?
Pereg. Shipwreck--that's all.
Mrs. Brul. Mercy on us! cast away?
Pereg. On your coast, here.
Dennis. Then, compliment apart, sir, you take a ducking as if you had been used to it.
Pereg. Life's a lottery, friend; and man should make up his mind to the blanks. On what part of Cornwall am I thrown?
Mrs. Brul. We are two miles from Penzance, sir.
Pereg. Ha!--from Penzance!--that's lucky!
Mrs. Brul [Aside to DENNIS.] Lucky!--Then he'll go on, without drinking at our house.
Dennis. A hem!--Sir, there has been a great big thunder storm at Penzance, and all the beer in the town's as thick as mustard.
Pereg. I feel chill'd--get me a glass of brandy.
Dennis. Och, the devil! [Aside.] Bring the brandy bottle for the jontleman, my jewel. [Aloud to his Wife.
Mrs. Brul. [Apart.] Dont you know you've emptied it, you sot, you!
Dennis. [Apart.] Draw a mug of beer--I'll palaver him.
Mrs. Brul. [Apart, and going.] Ah! if you would but follow my advice! [Exit into the House.
Dennis. You see that woman that's gone sir,--she's my wife, poor soul! She has but one misfortune, and that's a wapper.
Pereg. What's that?
Dennis. We had as a neat a big bottle of brandy, a week ago--and damn the drop's left. But I say nothing--she's my wife, poor creature! and she can tell who drank it. Would'nt you like a sup of sour--I mean, of our strong beer?
Pereg. Pshaw! no matter what. Tell me, is a person of the name of Thornberry still living in Penzance?
Dennis. Is it one Mr. Thornberry you are asking after?
Pereg. Yes. When I first saw him (indeed, it was the first time and the last), he had just begun to adventure humbly in trade. His stock was very slender, but his neighbours accounted him a kindly man--and I know they spoke the truth. Thirty years ago, after half an hour's intercourse, which proved to me his benevolent nature, I squeezed his hand, and parted.
Dennis. Thirty years! 'Faith, after half an hour's dish of talk, that's a reasonable long time to remember!
Pereg. Not at all; for he did me a genuine service; and gratitude writes the records in the heart, that, till it ceases to beat, they may live in the memory.
Enter MRS. BRULGRUDDERY, with a Mug of Beer.
Mrs. Brul. [Apart to DENNIS.] What have you said about the brandy bottle?
Dennis. [Apart.] I told him you broke it, one day.
Mrs. Brul. [Apart.] Ah! I am always the shelter for your sins.
Dennis. Hush!--[To PERG.] You know, sir, I--hem!--I mention'd to you poor Mrs. Brulgruddery's misfortune.
Pereg. Ha, ha! you did indeed, friend.
Mrs. Brul. I am very sorry, sir, but--
Dennis. Be asy, my lambkin! the jontleman excuses it. You are not the first that has crack'd a bottle, you know.--Here's your beer, sir. [Taking it from his Wife.] I'm not of a blushing nation, or I'd be shame-faced to give it him.--[Aside.] My jewel, the jontleman was asking after one Mr. Thornberry. [Delaying to give the Beer.
Mrs. Brul. What! old Job Thornberry of Penzance, sir?
Pereg. The very same. You know him, then?
Mrs. Brul. Very well, by hearsay, sir. He has lived there upwards of thirty years. A very thriving man now, and well to do in the world;--as others might be, too, if they would but follow my advice. [To DENNIS.
Pereg. I rejoice to hear it. Give me the beer, Landlord; I'll drink his health in humble malt, then hasten to visit him.
Dennis. [Aside.] By St. Patrick, then, you'll make wry faces on the road. [Gives him the mug.
[As PEREGRINE is about to drink, a Shriek is heard at a small Distance.
Pereg. Ha! the voice of a female in distress? Then 'tis a man's business to fly to her protection. [Dashes the Mug on the Ground. Exit.
Mrs. Brul. Wheugh! what a whirligigg! Why, Dennis, the man's mad!
Dennis. I think that thing.
Mrs. Brul. He has thrown down all the beer, before he tasted a drop.
Dennis. That's it: if he had chuck'd it away afterwards, I shou'dn't have wonder'd.
Mrs. Brul. Here he comes again;--and, I declare, with a young woman leaning on his shoulder.
Dennis. A young