BUCK. Why, then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson, if he be non
compos mentis; his act and deed will be of no effect, it is not good
in law.
SIR SAMP. Oons, I won't believe it; let me see him, sir. Mad--I'll
make him find his senses.
JERE. Mr Scandal is with him, sir; I'll knock at the door.
[Goes to the scene, which opens.]
SCENE VI.
SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY, and LAWYER. VALENTINE upon
a couch disorderly dressed.
SIR SAMP. How now, what's here to do?
VAL. Ha! Who's that? [Starting.]
SCAN. For heav'n's sake
softly, sir, and
gently; don't
provoke him.
VAL. Answer me: who is that, and that?
SIR SAMP. Gads bobs, does he not know me? Is he
mischievous? I'll
speak
gently. Val, Val, dost thou not know me, boy? Not know thy
own father, Val? I am thy own father, and this is honest Brief
Buckram, the
lawyer.
VAL. It may be so--I did not know you--the world is full. There
are people that we do know, and people that we do not know, and yet
the sun shines upon all alike. There are fathers that have many
children, and there are children that have many fathers. 'Tis
strange! But I am Truth, and come to give the world the lie.
SIR SAMP. Body o' me, I know not what to say to him.
VAL. Why does that
lawyer wear black? Does he carry his
consciencewithoutside? Lawyer what art thou? Dost thou know me?
BUCK. O Lord, what must I say? Yes, sir,
VAL. Thou liest, for I am Truth. 'Tis hard I cannot get a
livelihood
amongst you. I have been sworn out of Westminster Hall
the first day of every term--let me see--no matter how long. But
I'll tell you one thing: it's a question that would
puzzle an
arithmetician, if you should ask him, whether the Bible saves more
souls in Westminster Abbey, or damns more in Westminster Hall. For
my part, I am Truth, and can't tell; I have very few acquaintance.
SIR SAMP. Body o' me, he talks sensibly in his
madness. Has he no
intervals?
JERE. Very short, sir.
BUCK. Sir, I can do you no service while he's in this condition.
Here's your paper, sir--he may do me a
mischief if I stay. The
conveyance is ready, sir, if he recover his senses.
SCENE VII.
SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY.
SIR SAMP. Hold, hold, don't you go yet.
SCAN. You'd better let him go, sir, and send for him if there be
occasion; for I fancy his presence
provokes him more.
VAL. Is the
lawyer gone? 'Tis well, then we may drink about
without going together by the ears--heigh ho! What a'clock is't?
My father here! Your
blessing, sir.
SIR SAMP. He recovers--bless thee, Val; how dost thou do, boy?
VAL. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a little out of
order, Won't you please to sit, sir?
SIR SAMP. Ay, boy. Come, thou shalt sit down by me.
VAL. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait.
SIR SAMP. No, no; come, come, sit thee down, honest Val. How dost
thou do? Let me feel thy pulse. Oh, pretty well now, Val. Body o'
me, I was sorry to see thee indisposed; but I'm glad thou art
better, honest Val.
VAL. I thank you, sir.
SCAN. Miracle! The
monster grows
loving. [Aside.]
SIR SAMP. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does not shake; I
believe thou canst write, Val. Ha, boy? thou canst write thy name,
Val. Jeremy, step and
overtake Mr Buckram, bid him make haste back
with the
conveyance; quick, quick. [In
whisper to JEREMY.]
SCENE VIII.
SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL.
SCAN. That ever I should
suspect such a
heathen of any remorse!
[Aside.]
SIR SAMP. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thou'rt honest,
and wilt perform articles. [Shows him the paper, but holds it out
of his reach.]
VAL. Pray let me see it, sir. You hold it so far off that I can't
tell whether I know it or no.
SIR SAMP. See it, boy? Ay, ay; why, thou dost see it--'tis thy own
hand, Vally. Why, let me see, I can read it as plain as can be.
Look you here. [Reads.] THE CONDITION OF THIS OBLIGATION--Look
you, as plain as can be, so it begins--and then at the bottom--AS
WITNESS MY HAND, VALENTINE LEGEND, in great letters. Why, 'tis as
plain as the nose in one's face. What, are my eyes better than
thine? I believe I can read it farther off yet; let me see.
[Stretches his arm as far as he can.]
VAL. Will you please to let me hold it, sir?
SIR SAMP. Let thee hold it, sayest thou? Ay, with all my heart.
What matter is it who holds it? What need anybody hold it? I'll
put it up in my pocket, Val, and then nobody need hold it. [Puts
the paper in his pocket.] There, Val; it's safe enough, boy. But
thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy hand to another
paper, little Val.
SCENE IX.
[To them] JEREMY with BUCKRAM.
VAL. What, is my bad
genius here again! Oh no, 'tis the
lawyerwith an itching palm; and he's come to be scratched. My nails are
not long enough. Let me have a pair of red-hot tongs quickly,
quickly, and you shall see me act St. Dunstan, and lead the devil by
the nose.
BUCK. O Lord, let me begone: I'll not
venture myself with a
madman.
SCENE X.
SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY.
VAL. Ha, ha, ha; you need not run so fast,
honesty will not
overtake you. Ha, ha, ha, the rogue found me out to be in forma
pauperis presently.
SIR SAMP. Oons! What a
vexation is here! I know not what to do,
or say, nor which way to go.
VAL. Who's that that's out of his way? I am Truth, and can set him
right. Harkee, friend, the straight road is the worst way you can
go. He that follows his nose always, will very often be led into a
stink. Probatum est. But what are you for? religion or politics?
There's a couple of topics for you, no more like one another than
oil and
vinegar; and yet those two,
beaten together by a state-cook,
make sauce for the whole nation.
SIR SAMP. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget sons? Why did
I ever marry?
VAL. Because thou wert a
monster, old boy! The two greatest
monsters in the world are a man and a woman! What's thy opinion?
SIR SAMP. Why, my opinion is, that those two
monsters joined
together, make yet a greater, that's a man and his wife.
VAL. Aha! Old True-penny, say'st thou so? Thou hast nicked it.
But it's wonderful strange, Jeremy.
JERE. What is, sir?
VAL. That gray hairs should cover a green head--and I make a fool
of my father. What's here! Erra Pater: or a bearded sibyl? If
Prophecy comes, Truth must give place.
SCENE XI.
SIR SAMPSON, SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, MISS FORESIGHT, MRS FRAIL.
FORE. What says he? What, did he
prophesy? Ha, Sir Sampson, bless
us! How are we?
SIR SAMP. Are we? A pox o' your prognostication. Why, we are
fools as we use to be. Oons, that you could not
foresee that the
moon would predominate, and my son be mad. Where's your
oppositions, your trines, and your quadrates? What did your Cardan
and your Ptolemy tell you? Your Messahalah and your Longomontanus,
your
harmony of chiromancy with astrology. Ah! pox on't, that I
that know the world and men and manners, that don't believe a
syllable in the sky and stars, and sun and almanacs and trash,
should be directed by a
dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business
in
expectation of a lucky hour, when, body o' me, there never was a
lucky hour after the first opportunity.
SCENE XII.
SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, MRS FRAIL.
FORE. Ah, Sir Sampson, heav'n help your head. This is none of your
lucky hour; Nemo omnibus horis sapit. What, is he gone, and in
contempt of science? Ill stars and unconvertible
ignorance attend
him.
SCAN. You must excuse his
passion, Mr Foresight, for he has been
heartily vexed. His son is non compos mentis, and
thereby incapable
of making any
conveyance in law; so that all his measures are
disappointed.
FORE. Ha! say you so?
MRS FRAIL. What, has my sea-lover lost his
anchor of hope, then?
[Aside to MRS FORESIGHT.]
MRS FORE. O sister, what will you do with him?
MRS FRAIL. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul
weather. He's used to an inconstant element, and won't be surprised
to see the tide turned.
FORE. Wherein was I
mistaken, not to
foresee this? [Considers.]
SCAN. Madam, you and I can tell him something else that he did not
foresee, and more particularly relating to his own fortune. [Aside
to MRS FORESIGHT.]
MRS FORE. What do you mean? I don't understand you.
SCAN. Hush,
softly,--the pleasures of last night, my dear, too
considerable to be forgot so soon.
MRS FORE. Last night! And what would your impudence infer from
last night? Last night was like the night before, I think.
SCAN. 'Sdeath, do you make no difference between me and your
husband?
MRS FORE. Not much,--he's
superstitious, and you are mad, in my
opinion.
SCAN. You make me mad. You are not serious. Pray recollect
yourself.
MRS FORE. Oh yes, now I remember, you were very impertinent and
impudent,--and would have come to bed to me.
SCAN. And did not?
MRS FORE. Did not! With that face can you ask the question?
SCAN. This I have heard of before, but never believed. I have been
told, she had that
admirable quality of forgetting to a man's face
in the morning that she had lain with him all night, and denying
that she had done favours with more impudence than she could grant
'em. Madam, I'm your
humble servant, and honour you.--You look
pretty well, Mr Foresight: how did you rest last night?
FORE. Truly, Mr Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams and
distracted visions that I remember little.
SCAN. 'Twas a very forgetting night. But would you not talk with
Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I'm apt to believe there
is something
mysterious in his discourses, and sometimes rather
think him inspired than mad.
FORE. You speak with
singular good judgment, Mr Scandal, truly. I
am inclining to your Turkish opinion in this matter, and do
reverence a man whom the
vulgar think mad. Let us go to him.
MRS FRAIL. Sister, do you stay with them; I'll find out my lover,
and give him his
discharge, and come to you. O' my
conscience, here
he comes.
SCENE XIII.
MRS FRAIL, BEN.
BEN. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the calentures of the
sea are come
ashore, for my part.
MRS FRAIL. Mr Benjamin in choler!
BEN. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found you. Mess, I
have had such a
hurricane upon your
account yonder.
MRS FRAIL. My
account; pray what's the matter?
BEN. Why, father came and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced
thing as he would have me marry, so he asked what was the matter.