Speed the Plough | Page 7

conclude
you took London in your way? Hush! [To DAME.
Miss B. Oh no, sir, I could not so soon venture into the beau monde; a
stranger just arrived from Germany--
Handy, jun. The very reason--the most fashionable introduction
possible! but I perceive, sir, you have here imitated other German
importations, and only restored to us our native excellence.
Miss B. I assure you, sir, I am eager to seize my birthright, the pure and
envied immunities of an English woman!
Handy, jun. Then I trust, madam, you will be patriot enough to agree
with me, that as a nation is poor, whose only wealth is importation--that
therefore the humble native artist may ever hope to obtain from his
countrymen those fostering smiles, without which genius must sicken
and industry decay. But it requires no valet de place to conduct you
through the purlieus of fashion, for now the way of the world is, for
every one to pursue their own way; and following the fashion is
differing as much as possible from the rest of your acquaintance.
Miss B. But, surely sir, there is some distinguishing feature, by which
the votaries of fashion are known?
Handy, jun. Yes; but that varies extremely--sometimes fashionable
celebrity depends on a high waist--sometimes on a low
carriage--sometimes on high play, and sometimes on low breeding--last
winter it rested solely on green peas!
Miss B. Green peas!

Handy, jun. Green peas--That lady was the most enchanting, who could
bring the greatest quantity of green peas to her table at Christmas! the
struggle was tremendous! Mrs. Rowley Powley had the best of it by
five pecks and a half, but it having been unfortunately proved, that at
her ball there was room to dance and eat conveniently--that no lady
received a black eye, and no coachman was killed, the thing was voted
decent and comfortable, and scouted accordingly.
Miss B. Is comfort then incompatible with fashion?
Handy, jun. Certainly!--Comfort in high life would be as preposterous
as a lawyer's bag crammed with truth, or his wig decorated with
coquelicot ribbons! No--it is not comfort and selection that is sought,
but numbers and confusion! So that a fashionable party resembles
Smithfield market,--only a good one when plentifully stocked--and
ladies are reckoned by the score, like sheep, and their husbands by
droves, like horned cattle!
Miss B. Ha, ha! and the conversation--
Handy, jun. Oh! like the assembly--confused, vapid, and abundant; as
"How do, ma'am!--no accident at the door?--he, he!"--"Only my
carriage broke to pieces!"--"I hope you had not your pocket
picked!"--"Won't you sit down to faro?"--"Have you many
to-night?"--"A few, about six hundred!"--"Were you at Lady
Overall's?"--"Oh yes; a delicious crowd, and plenty of peas, he,
he!"--and thus runs the fashionable race.
Sir Abel. Yes; and a precious run it is--full gallop all the way: first they
run on--then their fortune is run through--then bills are run up--then
they are run hard--then they've a run of luck--then they run out, and
then they run away!--But I'll forgive fashion all its follies in
consideration of one of its blessed laws.
Handy, jun. What may that be!
Sir Abel. That husband and wife must never be seen together.

Enter SERVANT.
Serv. Miss Blandford, your father expects you.
Miss B. I hope I shall find him more composed.
Handy, jun. Is Sir Philip ill?
Miss B. His spirits are extremely depressed, and since we arrived here
this morning his dejection has dreadfully increased.
Handy, jun. But I hope we shall be able to laugh away despondency.
Miss B. Sir, if you are pleased to consider my esteem as an object worth
your possession, I know no way of obtaining it so certain as by your
shewing every attention to my dear father. [As they are going,
Enter ASHFIELD.
Ash. Dame! Dame! she be come!
Dame. Who? Susan! our dear Susan?
Ash. Ees--zo--come along--Oh, Sir Abel! Lady Nelly, your spouse, do
order you to go to her directly!
Handy, jun. Order! you mistake--
Sir Abel. No, he don't--she generally prefers that word.
Miss B. Adieu! Sir Abel. [Exeunt MISS BLANDFORD and HANDY,
jun.
Sir Abel. Oh! if my wife had such a pretty way with her mouth.
Dame. And how does Susan look?
Ash. That's what I do want to know, zoa come along--Woo ye
though--Missus, let's behave pratty--Zur if you pleaze, Dame and I will

let you walk along wi' us.
Sir Abel. How condescending! Oh, you are a pretty behaved fellow!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Farmer ASHFIELD'S Kitchen.
Enter LADY HANDY and SUSAN.
Susan. My dear home, thrice welcome!--What gratitude I feel to your
ladyship for this indulgence!
Lady H. That's right, child!
Susan. And I am sure you partake my pleasure in again visiting a place,
where you received every protection and kindness my parents could
shew you, for, I remember,