Single Life

Pin. Rather a long speech. Can’t I shorten it a little?

Nig. No, no – every word is of value. She will reply “Indeed it does” – then in the most pathetic tones you can command, you must add: “For my own part, I feel its influence so strongly here” – placing the hand you have at liberty on your heart – “that I could live for ever thus.”

Pin. Meaning in that attitude?

Nig. No, no, with your heart full of the passionate feelings you are to experience at that moment.

Pin. Ah, that’s speaking allegorically! Well?

Nig. Of course she will make no reply. Then you must be affected – seem to dry away a tear – and add with fervour, “till this moment I have been a miserable man.” Let your voice falter on the word miserable.

Pin. (In a tremulous tone.) Miserable!

Nig. That’s it; then continue: “’Tis in your power to make me the happiest being on earth! Will you be mine? dearest angel, will you be mine? Say yes, and I am blessed indeed; but reject me, and instant death shall be my portion!” Then fall at her feet, sob audibly, and hide your face in her lap!

Pin. Lord! I could never do all that – I might get as far as “Will you be mine?” but even then I think I should rush out of the house without waiting for the answer. And am I to sob and fall on my knees? I could never do it, bless you – without I first took a few bumpers of spirits and water. Pray oblige me by writing the speech down for me. I’ll learn it by heart, and I wont wait for an autumn evening, but take the first favorable opportunity, eh? even if it’s to-night, eh?

Nig. Your favorable opportunity is half the battle; and as for the form of the declaration and proposal, I warrant it – I’ve tried it five times myself, and it never failed yet!

Pin. Hush! I hear her voice. Now step into the next room and write it all down for me, then I’ll take her unawares, and pop like fury!

Nig. Take her by storm – take her by storm!

Pin. I will, I will.

Nig. Faint heart, you know —

Pin. Never won fair lady!

Nig. Hush! they’re coming – follow me.

[Exit F.E.L.

Pin. Now or never, I’m resolved!

[Exit, following. Enter MISS SKYLARK, carrying a small basket full of letters, followed by MISS SNARE, F.E.R

Miss Sna. And is that basket full of Mr. Pinkey’s letters?

Miss Sky. Full.

Miss Sna. How very strange that he can never get courage to express the feelings, that you say he so beautifully describes in his epistles. What can be done to make him speak out?

Miss Sky. I suppose I must take his silence as the greatest proof of his sincerity; for all philosophers have declared that strong feelings, like great griefs, are generally dumb.

Miss Sna. Then where is the language of love?

Miss Sky. In that case the language of love is no language at all.

Miss Sna. And yet you tell me he writes so beautifully.

Miss Sky. You shall hear. (They sit; MISS SKYLARK produces a letter from her basket.) Will you have a despairing or an enthusiastic letter?

Miss Sna. Try me first with a little despair, then the enthusiasm will relish all the better afterwards.

Miss Sky. Here is one that will suit you then. (Reading a letter.) “Dearest object of my soul – pardon the intrusion of your despairing admirer – but my passion for you is so intense, that neither night nor day can I close my eyes!”

Miss Sna. Poor fellow, how badly he must want a night’s rest.

Miss Sky. (Reading.) “For ever haunted by your charms, I have no other relief than in continually describing the feelings of my seared and desolate heart!” Isn’t that beautiful? He must have an affectionate disposition, or he couldn’t express himself so sweetly! “Seared and desolate!” What beautiful language! It seems only fit to be sung – never to be merely spoken. (Singing.) “Seared and – ”

Miss Sna. Pray don’t begin singing your love letters – we shall never get to the end of one of them.

Miss Sky. I beg your pardon, I was carried away by my feelings. I’ll go on: (Reading.) “If it should be my wretched fate to meet with your scorn, pray destroy this letter, as you have already destroyed the happiness of your devoted slave – ”

Miss Sna. Eh! Bless me, those words are very familiar to me!

Miss Sky. Familiar to you! Surely he has not been writing to you?

Miss Sna. I have that letter in my pocket at this very moment!

Miss Sky. You have. Oh, the little monster! – I’ll box his ears!

Miss Sna. Nay, nay, the case is not so bad as you suppose it to be, though I have a similar letter in my possession, it is not from Mr. Pinkey.

Miss Sky. I don’t understand you – pray explain.

Miss Sna. (Taking a small book from her pocket.) You see this book – look at its title.

Miss Sky. (Reading.) “The Complete Letter Writer.”

Miss Sna. Mr. Pinkey’s despairing epistle is copied word for word, from that book.

Miss Sky. Copied from this book. Oh! the little amatory plagiarist!

Miss Sna. Look and be convinced – turn to page 20.

Miss Sky. (Reading.) “Dear object!” – here it is – even “seared and desolate” isn’t his own. Was there ever such impertinence – Oh! I’m in such a rage, if he were here I’d fling all his paltry letters in his face. (Turning over the leaves of the book.) Here they all are – “Loveliest of women” – “fly on the wings of love” – “meet my charmer” – “happy in her embraces for ever.” Here they all are word for word. How much did the book cost?

Miss Sna. Eighteen-pence.

Miss Sky. His despairing letters! his ardent letters! his reasonable letters! his polite letters! all, all copied from this book. And is it possible that so much despair, so much ardour, so much reason, so much politeness could have cost him but eighteen-pence; when I had fondly imagined they had cost him tears, and lonely hours of agony, and sighs and groans. – Oh! the little monster, if I could meet him now, I’d make him stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by his letters; I’d then set fire to them, and see him perish a martyr to his cool duplicity.

[A knock.

Miss Sna. Hush! he’s here.

Miss Sky. Is he? I’ll let him know that my affections are not to be obtained under false pretences.

[A knock at the door, F.E.L.

Miss Sna. Come in.

Re-enter PINKEY with a paper in his hand, F.E.L

Pin. It’s only me. I’ve got the speech. (Aside.) There’s the old lady come, Miss Snare, and her neice that lives with her; you asked them here you know to find out who they are. And the strange young man, that nobody can learn what he can be, is here, too. The ladies were asking for you, and I said I’d find you for them.

Miss Sna. You’re very kind, I’ll go to them directly. What do you think? – the young man that I have watched walking in the fields, every now and then, with the neice of the old maid at the cottage, and that we suspect is related to Miss Coy, is actually come here to tea this evening.

Miss Sky. Have you invited him?

Miss Sna. I caught him making a sketch of my little house here, and I told him as he seemed so taken with the beauty of its exterior that he was welcome to step in and survey the interior. Then I told him that two friends of his were coming here this evening, and that I should be happy to see him meet them. And he is actually come? (To PINKEY.)

Pin. Yes, down stairs walking about by himself.

Miss Sna. Excellent! I long to understand the mystery that not only seems to surround him, but Miss Coy, and the other two ladies. So what with them, and Niggle and Damper, who are both coming —

Miss Sky. And of course Mr. Boss?

Miss Sna. Oh, yes; Mr. Boss of course.

Miss Sky. Hem?

Miss Sna. Now don’t look so sly at me – I confess the soft impeachment; but it is purely platonic, it is indeed. Well, when we are altogether, I expect my tea party will go off with eclat. Come to us as soon as you can.

Pin. (Offering his arm to MISS SNARE.) Allow me to escort you? (Crosses to L.)

Miss Sna. Oh, no sir; offer your arm to the lady that has the greatest right to it.

[Exit MISS SNARE, F.E.L.

Pin. Here’s the favourable opportunity come sooner than I expected. I’ve got the speech, but have not had time enough to learn it; perhaps I can recollect a few words and get a sly peep at the others.

Miss Sky. A little piratical object, how I should like to box his ears; but I’ll controul my temper for a moment. (Crosses to L.)

Pin. Hem! We are quite alone.

Miss Sky. Yes, I perceive we are.

Pin. Shall we sit down a bit, or how?

Miss Sky. As you please.

[They sit.

Pin. Hem! Oh, dear! what a twitter I am in. I shall never begin.

Miss Sky. (Singing without regarding him.)

“Why so pale and wan, fond lover,Pr’ythee why so pale?

Pin. I dare say I am pale; but I have made up my mind, and I will begin. Does not a moment like this inspire you with feelings – with feelings – (Looking at his paper aside.)

Miss Sky. What feelings?

Pin. Indescribable. I’ve got that out – what a long word, for a man in a fright. (Aside.)

Miss Sky. (Singing.)

“Will, when looking well can’t win her,Looking ill prevail?

Pin. Now she ought to say, “indeed it does.” Never mind, as I have ventured so far, on I’ll go. For my own part I feel it’s influence so strongly here, that I could live for ever thus. There – that was well said.

Miss Sky. (Singing.)

“Why so dull and mute, young sinner,Pr’ythee, why so mute?”

Pin. But I’m not mute, Miss Skylark; till this moment I have been a miserable man – till this moment I have been – Zounds, what comes next? A miserable man – oh, my stars, I’m fixed for want of a word – a miserable man —

Miss Sky. Have you indeed. Ah! (Sighing.)

Pin. She sighs. If half the speech has such an effect, what will all of it do? (Looking at his paper.) Oh, here’s the next word. (Continuing.) ’Tis in your power —

Miss Sky. Ah! (Sighing again.)

Pin. Another sigh. I’m getting on.

Miss Sky. Dear object of my soul.

Pin. Oh, good heavens! I didn’t expect such language. Oh! I’m all of a tremble.

Miss Sky. My passion for you is so intense.

Pin. Oh, she’s popping to me and saving me all the bother.

Miss Sky. That neither night nor day can I close my eyes.

Pin. Eh? Oh, my! that’s the beginning of one of my letters.

Miss Sky. How beautifully you do express yourself.

Pin. Do I?

Miss Sky. You see this bundle. (Producing her bundle of letters.) Here are all your cherished letters; I need not tell you how I prize them.

Pin. I ought to sob and fall in her lap now. (Takes out his pocket-handkerchief and tries to sob.) I cant. I dont feel at all inclined to cry. Perhaps I shall, presently.

Miss Sky. If the contents of these billets —

Pin. Billys! Oh, ah – I understand.

Miss Sky. Were not copied from the complete letter-writer —

Pin. Oh, I’m found out. Well did I ever. Oh, there’s no falling at her feet, now.

Miss Sky. I need not confess they would be doubly dear to me —

Pin. Oh, there’s no harm done. (He draws his chair closer to her.)

Miss Sky. But, as they are mere second-hand declarations, permit me to return them. There – there – there and there.

[She throws all the letters and basket at him and runs off; he remains covered with them. PINKEY regards them bewildered; gathers them together and puts them into his handkerchief.

Pin. This comes of trying a warranted speech. And are these all my letters? What trouble I have taken, and in vain too. I’ll seal them up again – they’ll come in for somebody else! There’s some one at the door.

[He has placed all the letters in the basket, and conceals it behind him. Enter BOSS, F.E.L

Boss. Pinkey, my man, they are waiting tea for you up stairs. Miss Snare wants you to assist me in handing the toast. What’s the matter with you man? you look bewildered – a tiff with your lady I suppose.

[PINKEY utters a deep groan and goes off F.E.L.

Poor fellow, I’m afraid he’s unfortunate in his choice; though I suppose one must marry, it seems a necessary duty to society. I can’t confess that I’m in love, yet there seems to be a something about Miss Snare that is very agreeable. She admires me that’s clear; and, as I admire myself, there is certainly some sympathy between us. The Spartan laws considered bachelors as infamous: I think I have a little of the Spartan in me, and am half inclined to be of their opinion. I’ll turn the matter over in my mind.

[Exit F.E.L.

SCENE III. —A large room at MISS SNARE’S– In the S.E.R. is a fire-place, mantle-piece, looking-glass, &c., complete; a fender before it bearing toast, crumpets, &c.; a table on the L., on which is a complete tea-service, urn, &c. —MISS SNARE is presiding at the tea-table —PINKEY and BOSS are handing the tea and toast —PINKEY is very nervous and confused —BOSS takes every opportunity of surveying himself in the glass —PINKEY’Schair is on the L. of the fire-place, that of BOSS on the R. – NIGGLE is next to PINKEY – DAMPER to NIGGLE – CHESTER to DAMPER – MISS SKYLARK near CHESTER – MISS MEADOWS behind the tea-table, facing the audience —MISS MACAW in front of it on the L. – All laughing as the scene is discovered.

Dam. (Drinking tea.) Ah, you may laugh, it was a miraculous escape, he was within a hairs breadth of the noose; but I saved his neck for him.

Miss Mac. I wish you had tied yourself up in it instead. How I should rejoice to see you caught in the toils.

Dam. If you could be tied up with me, I should not care for my own torments, while I could behold yours.

Pin. (Handing toast to NIGGLE, and speaking aside to him.) Oh! Such a climax to my attempt at a pop.

Nig. Did you try the speech?

Pin. Only half of it, I was cut short – tell you by and bye.

Miss Sna. Hand Miss Skylark some toast Mr. P. Put some coals on the fire, and bring me Mr. Damper’s cup.

Pin. Yes, ma’am.

Dam. (To CHESTER.) I did not expect the pleasure of meeting you here, sir.

Che. I am sure, to find you in the presence of ladies, is an event quite as unexpected by me.

Miss Mac. I dare say it is, sir.

Miss Sna. (To CHESTER.) Do you intend permanently residing in this town?

Che. I am undecided at present.

Dam. Intend to live with your relation, perhaps?

Che. Sir!

Dam. (To NIGGLE.) That was a home thrust. Observe how he avoids it.

Miss Sna. (Loudly.) Coals, Mr. Pinkey, and you don’t attend to Miss Skylark.

Pin. (Jumping up.) Oh, I’d forgot.

[PINKEY seizes the coal-scuttle, and, in his confusion, is about to empty its contents into MISS SKYLARK’S lap.

Miss Sky. (Rising.) What are you doing, sir?

All. Mr. Pinkey!

Pin. (Running to his chair.) I – I – don’t know what I’m doing. I – want to go home. I’m a little out of sorts – and —

[A loud knocking heard.

Nig. (Starts.) That’s very like her knock. Do you expect another visitor, Miss Snare?

Miss Sna. (Rising, and going to F.E.L.) No I do not. (Looking off.) It’s a friend of your’s, Mr. Niggle. Pray walk in, Miss Coy; pray walk in.

Nig. It is she.

Dam. Don’t be alarmed, I am with you – don’t be alarmed.

Enter MISS CAROLINE COY, dressed in bridal white, F.E.L.; she enters in a dignified manner

Miss Coy. (Courtesying round her.) Good afternoon. I am sorry to disturb you. So, all assembled, the entire force of my traducers in full array before me. I am delighted to meet you all.

Nig. I think she carries the calm dignity of innocence in her manner.

Dam. All artifice.

Miss Coy. (Seeing CHARLES.) You here too?

Che. (Advancing to her, R.) Let them say what they will of you, my secret must be kept. If your intended possesses a real regard for you, it is not a mere tale of scandal that can turn him from you.

Miss Coy. I am in such a fury – feel so insulted.

Che. Then shower your wrath on their heads.

Miss Coy. I shall not spare them, be assured. (Sits.)

Dam. (To NIGGLE.) Whispering, you see – agreeing both to tell the same story.

Miss Sna. Tea, Miss Coy?

Miss Coy. Presently, miss. Hem!

Dam. (To NIGGLE.) Clearing her throat to begin.

Nig. If she plays upon my feelings I’m done for.

Dam. She is sure to try to do that – they all try to do that.

Miss Coy. You must be all well aware by this time, that I was about to be married to that fluctuating bachelor, Mr. Niggle, and, that the match is broken off, as much through the interference of his friend, as his want of the moral courage, necessary for so important an act as matrimony.

All. (But DAMPERand NIGGLE.) Ha! ha! Moral courage for matrimony.

Dam. (To NIGGLE.) Don’t let them have the laugh against you. Speak out, speak out.

Nig. (Rising.) I confess it has been a want of moral courage: for, long as I have pined for the joys of conjugal life, such is my universal admiration of the fair sex, that if I have hesitated to pass my life in the society of one female, ’twas in fear that I should discover some radical defect of temper or manner, that might disturb my notions of woman generally; and I rather prefer to admire you through the gay medium of fancy, than venture to take a peep at you through the pale optics of truth.

All. Hear! hear! hear!

Miss Coy. And yet if you could find a woman that would be happy only in your presence, who would receive you with smiles and see you depart with tears, who would anticipate your every wish, be your companion, friend and comforter, you would cast aside your scruples and boldly dare the worst. I am but repeating your own words, once uttered to me.

Dam. Were you ever such an idiot as to say so much?

Nig. Yes, yes, it was in a tender moment.

Pin. On some autumn evening, eh?

Miss Sky. I think, sir, we had better commence a general election for the honor of possessing your hand. Let each candidate publish her list of pledges, and she that may exhibit one that could approach the nearest to your wishes, should be chosen as the representative of your conjugal happiness.

Nig. I am afraid the election once settled, as in other cases, many of the pledges would be forgotten; and a wife is a member that there is no unseating, let her disqualifications be ever so unconstitutional.

Dam. Hear! hear! hear!

Pin. Cheers from the opposition.

Boss. Silence, Pinkey.

Miss Coy. (Rises.) I am here to vindicate my character, not to expostulate with you, sir. (To NIGGLE.) Miss Snare.

Miss Sna. Madam.

Miss Coy. You, in particular, have been making use of my name very freely.

Miss Sna. What have I said.

Miss Coy. Said! The other evening at Mr. Tattle’s, you said that my only motive for going to a watering place every summer, was for the purpose of riding a donkey, that the awkward paces of the animal might so set off my natural graces, that some wandering Lothario might be struck by them.

Miss Sna. I see nothing offensive in the remark.

Boss. (In his chair, F.E.R.) An elegant compliment I think.

Miss Coy. Don’t talk to me, puppy. (To BOSS.)

Boss. My dear Miss, I am sorry to see you so bitter, though I am not surprised at it. The superanuated beauty is ever the most acrimonious of old maids; as the finest Burgundy, when spoiled, produces the sharpest vinegar.

All. (But NIGGLE.) Ha! ha! ha!

[MISS SNARE kisses her hand to BOSS; he rises and looks at himself in the glass.

Nig. I cant allow this. Miss Coy’s feelings shall not be trifled with.

Miss Coy. Oh, sir, your championship is now too late, had it been exerted yesterday morning, this scene might have been spared. (Sobbing.)

Nig. She’s crying: I can’t see her cry. (Rising.)

Dam. (Pulling him to his seat.) Sit down. All women can command tears.

Miss Mac. (Rising and calling to DAMPER.) Oh! you brute. Oh! you brute.

Miss Mea. Aunt, pray keep your seat and your temper.

Miss Coy. (Recovering herself.) And you, Miss Skylark, you must make your little additions to the tittle-tattle.

Miss Sky. I.

Miss Coy. A female adventurer, am I? deep in debt, and only anxious for a husband to remove that burthen from my shoulders; that I loiter in shady lanes, and pretend to study botany as an excuse for solitary walks; that I practice attitudes, sighs, and simulate fainting to attract attention.

Miss Sky. Never said a thing of the sort, miss, and the consciousness that you have really been so ridiculous, has alone made you suppose such things to have been applied to you. (She returns to her seat.)

Pin. (Advancing with great courage.) Oh, come, come, Miss, if that lady has said that you were a botanist, and practice antics, I see no such harm in it.

Miss Coy. You see, sir: what can it matter what you may see, sir?

Pin. Perhaps it don’t; but it may matter what I can hear. Ah, you may look, I’ll make my little additions now, and then. I give you leave to turn all your vengeance on me, in lieu of attacking that lady. (Pointing to MISS SKYLARK.) Very fine indeed, to sit here pretending not to know your own son.

Dam. Well said, Pinkey – excellent.

Nig. If the little monster insults her, I’ll knock him down.

Miss Coy. What does the lunatic mean?

Pin. It’s not very often that I can say much, but when the fit is on me I can find words as fast as anybody, to express my meaning.

Dam. Express your strongest, Pinkey.

Nig. (Striving to leave his seat, is kept back by DAMPER.) He shall not.

Dam. Sit down and hear all.

Pin. Now, ma’am, while I’m in the vein I’ll have my say. You know that person there (Pointing to CHESTER.) is your clandestine son, and if Mr. Niggle had been unfortunate enough to have fallen a victim to your wiley arts, he would have found himself, not only the surreptitious father-in-law of a full grown young man, but responsible for a budget of bills, from milliners, linen-drapers, wig-makers, butchers, and wine depóts – and – that’s all.