John Bull | Page 9

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 an ould glove: but bite my nose off with mustard, and have at you with pepper,--that's my way.--There's a little crature at my house;--she's crying her eyes out;--and she won't get such another pair at the Red Cow; for I've left nobody with her but Mrs. Brulgruddery.
Frank. With her? with who? Who are you talking off?
Dennis. I'd like to know her name myself, sir;--but I have heard but half of it;--and that's Mary.
Frank. Mary!--Can it be she?--Wandering on a heath! seeking refuge in a wretched hovel!
Dennis. A hovel! O fie for shame of yourself, to misbecall a genteel tavern! I'd have you to know my parlour is clean sanded once a week.
Frank. Tell me, directly--what brought her to your house?
Dennis. By my soul, it was Adam's own carriage: a ten-toed machine the haymakers keep in Ireland.
Frank. Damn it, fellow, don't trifle, but tell your story; and, if you can, intelligibly.
Dennis. Don't be bothering my brains, then, or you'll get it as clear as mud. Sure the young crature can't fly away from the Red Cow, while I'm explaining to you the rights on't--Didn't she promise the gentleman to stay till he came back?
Frank. Promised a gentleman!--Who?--who is the gentleman?
Dennis. Arrah, now, where did you larn manners? Would you ax a customer his birth, parentage, and education? "Heaven bless you, sir, you'll come back again?" says she--"That's what I will, before you can say, parsnips, my darling," says he.
Frank. Damnation! what does this mean?--explain your errand, clearly, you scoundrel, or--
Dennis. Scoundrel!--Don't be after affronting a housekeeper. Havn't I a sign at my door, three pigs, a wife, and a man sarvant?
Frank. Well, go on.
Dennis. Damn the word more will I tell you.
Frank. Why, you infernal----
Dennis. Oh, be asy!--see what you get, now, by affronting Mr. Dennis Brulgruddery. [Searching his Pockets.] I'd have talk'd for an hour, if you had kept a civil tongue in your head!--but now, you may read the letter. [Giving it.
Frank. A letter!--stupid booby!--why didn't you give it to me at first?--Yes, it is her hand. [Opens the Letter.
Dennis. Stupid!--If you're so fond of letters, you might larn to behave yourself to the postman.
Frank. [Reading and agitated.]--Not going to upbraid you--Couldn't rest at my father's--Trifling assistance--Oh, Heaven! does she then want assistance?--The gentleman who has befriended me--damnation!--the gentleman!--Your unhappy Mary.--Scoundrel that I am!--what is she suffering!--but who, who is this gentleman?--no matter--she