148
CHARLES THE SECOND
Roch. Good heaven, what a sigh to heave up nothing with! Tell me the truth this instant. Hast thou dared to fall in love?
Edw. I hope, my lord, there is no harm in indulging an honest attachment.
Roch. An honest attachment! A young half-fledged page about court, who has hardly tried his wings in the sunshine of beauty, to talk of an honest attachment. Why, thou silly boy, is this the fruit of all the lessons I have given thee?
Edw. Did not your lordship tell me, that one of the first duties of a page was to be zealous in his devotion to the fair?
Roch. Yes; but I told thee to skim over the surface of beauty, just dipping your wings, like a swallow, not plumping in like a goose—I told you to hover from flower to flower like a butterfly, not to bury yourself in one like a bee. An honest attachment!—What a plebeian phrase!—There's a wife and seven children in the very sound of it.
Edw. My lord, I know your talent for putting things in a whimsical light, but, could you see the object of my passion—
Roch. Nay, a truce with all description.—But who, pray, is the object of this honest attachment?
Edw. (Embarrassed.) My lord!
Roch. One of the maids of honour, I'll be bound, who has privately been petting you with sweetmeats, and lending you love-tales.
Edw. No, my lord.
Roch. Some veteran belle about court, too well known to the veteran beaux, and anxious to take in a new comer.
Edw. No such thing, my lord.
Roch. Pray, then, give me some clue. What is the name of your beauty?
Edw. Her name, my lord, is Mary.
Roch. Mary! a very pretty, posy-like name—And what sequestered spot may the gentle Mary embellish with her presence?
Edw. She lives at the Tav— Nay, my lord, promise not to laugh.
Roch. Far be it from me to laugh in so serious a matter. Come, the residence of this fair one?
Edw. Why, then, my lord, she inhabits the tavern of the Grand Admiral, in Wapping.
Roch. Usquebaugh and tobacco! the tavern of the Grand Admiral!—Ha! ha! ha!—An honest attachment for some pretty bar-maid!
Edw. No, my lord, no bar-maid, I assure you. Her uncle keeps the tavern.
Roch. (With mock gravity.) Oh, I ask pardon, then she is heiress apparent to the tap-room, and you no doubt look forward to rise in the state through the dignities of drawer, tapster, and headwaiter, until you succeed to the fair hand of the niece, and the copper nose of the uncle, and rule with spigot in hand over the fair realms of Wapping. You, who I flattered myself would have made the torment and delight of all the pretty women at court!—you to be so completely gulled at the very outset,—the dupe of a green girl, and some old rogue of a publican!
Edw. Indeed, indeed, my lord, you do the uncle injustice. He is a perfectly honest, upright man—an old captain of a cruiser.
Roch. Worse and worse! Some old buccaneer, tired of playing the part of a monster at sea, has turned shark on shore. And do you dare to appear in such a house with the dress of a royal page?
Edw. Oh! I have taken care to avoid that. I have introduced myself into the house as a music-master.
Roch. And your musical name, gentle sir?
Edw. Georgini, at your service.
Roch. Ha! ha! ha! very soft and Italian-ish—I'll warrant this heroine bar-maid will turn out some unknown princess, carried off by the old buccaneer landlord, in one of his cruisings.
Edw. Your lordship is joking; but, really, at times, I think she is not what she seems.
Roch. Ha! ha! ha! I could have sworn it. But silence—I hear his majesty dismount. Run to where your duty calls—we'll take another opportunity to discuss the merits of this Wapping Princess.
Edw. (Goes out, muttering.) There's many a true thing said in jest. I am certain her birth is above her condition.
(Exit.)
Roch. I must see this paragon of bar-maids—She must be devilish pretty! The case admits of no delay—I'll see her this very evening. Hold! Why not fulfil my promise to Lady Clara at the same time? It is decided:—I'll give his majesty my first lesson in morals this very night. But, he comes.
(Enter Charles.)
