SCENE IV.-A Room in Grantley Hall. On the wall the portrait of a young female. Enter GRANTLEY, shown in by BULLFROG, who is slightly Bullfrog. Master Crumbs will be with you, sir, in the knockingdown of a hammer. From London, sir? A fine old mansion this. Grantley. I am. Bullf. Beautiful. nice bold carving, sir. That's a figure of Mercy. house and furniture. Capital piece of oak-tree panuelling that— Grant. The owner is indebted to your good wishes. Bullf. The owner! Oh, he's a wild fellow! He's never among us. No, sir; he's a London spark. His father left him abroad; and, though the old man's been dead, and the young gentleman's been in England these two years, he has never paid us a visit. Grant. Fond of a town life, I suppose? Bullf. Very fond. And then he's so lucky in his steward. Bullf. Oh! he's a jewel of a man-so punctual with his tenants. There's no keeping a guinea from him, sir. He's a delightful man for our business. Grant. And your profession is Bullf. Appraiser and auctioneer. Happy to serve you. I made one seizure this morning, shall make another to-night. If you've thoughts of staying amongst us, and want to furnish, I can assist you to two or three good penn'orths. What, sir? you are looking at that picture? I don't know the painter. It's not a Grant. No-(Musing.) Bullf. No. And it's not by-by-(Aside:-I must get an Italian smatter, or I shall never be able to knock down the painters.) Grant. Is it a family portrait ? Bullf. Why, sir, between ourselves, if I were to put it up for auction, I should call it a riddle in an oak frame. Grant. Why so? Bullf. Why, more than twice I've caught Mr. Crumbs standing before it looking at it; and once-you'll hardly believe it, for nobody who knows him would-I caught him with the tears rolling down his cheeks. Nobody would believe it. Grant. He is not generally for that. given to strong emotion? He's too much a man of business Not a word. Enter CRUMBS from door in scene. Crumbs. Your servant, sir. Business must excuse me that I made you wait. (To BULLFROG: Go you and see that Burly is at hand. I seize within this hour. Go.) Bullf. I will. (Aside:—but first for the other bottle with Captain Jack. I must better my taste in wines, if only in the way of business.) [Exit at door. Grant. I shall tax your hospitality for some days. This letter is from my friend, Grantley. Crumbs. He's well, I trust? (Aside: Curses on it!) (Reads.) "The bearer is my most special friend: treat him with all respect as he were myself. He will stay to sport some week or two." I would, sir, we had had earlier notice. I fear me, you will find us illprovided. Grant. Never fear it. Crumbs. In truth, sir, 'tis a dull spot. Here we see no onehear no one. Grant. Indeed, it seems still enough. Crumbs. You never hear a sound-not a sound; unless it be the birds in the rookery, or at night a mouse scratching in the wall. (Loud laughing and knocking within. SILVER JACK sings, in a loud voice: "May corn never fail, for that makes good ale; But a blight to all hempseed, brave boys, brave boys! Grant. Do the mice scratch thus early? Crumbs. I-I-(Laughing and noise continued). Grant. The rooks are somewhat jovial. Crumbs. It hath never happened until now. They are the richest of the 'squire's tenants-devout, religious men; but to-day being rent-day Jack and Hyss. (At the door.) Hallo, Master Crumbs ! Crumbs. I come-I-(To GRANT. :) Men of worth and reputation. Jack. (At door.) Master Crumbs! John Harris! Fifty pounds reward! Crumbs. Damnation ! (Rushes up and opens folding-doors. SILVER JACK and HYSSOP are seen, with BULLFROG trying to keep them back. They come down, all flushed with wine; JACK holding a bottle. Aside to them: I am busy. I will return. Go!) Jack. Busy! Damn business ! : Bullf. No don't damn business. I'm very drunk, but I can't damn business: it's profane. Jack. To leave your company, and-Oh! a gentleman! Introduce us. You won't? no ?-I'll introduce myself-(Puts bottle upon the stage, which BULLFROG takes up, and retires to back; seats himself in chair, and drinks.) Servant, sir. Nice house, this. Capital wine; yes, and a civil steward. Sir, I beg your friendship. If you're for anything in this way, I—(Taking from his pocket a pack of cards.) Hyss. Ay, sir; or if there be music in this—(Rattling dice in box.) Grant. (Aside: Devout, religious men !) Jack. We're not avaricious. We play for anything, from a marvedi to a thousand guineas. Crumbs. No, no; the gentleman does not play. Go in, my good friends. Grant. (To CRUMBS.) With your leave, I'll look about the grounds? Jack. Fine spot, nice house, good wine—ay, and—(Looking at portrait)-pretty pictures. Well, I say-(To HYSSOP)-isn't that an angel? Hyss. I can't tell I've not been used to such company. Grant. It is, indeed, beautiful. (To CRUMBS.) Tell me whose portrait is it? Did you know the lady? Crumbs. She was a—a favourite of the late 'squire's. She's long since dead. Jack. A favourite and dead! Ha! I suppose the 'squire was fond of her, and so broke her heart. Crumbs. How dare you? Jack. (Aside to him: Phoo! phoo! pounds reward!") "John Harris! fifty Crumbs. (To GRANTLEY.) Come, sir, I will show you Grant. Do not quit your friends. With your leave, I'll go alone. Gentlemen, I am the humblest of your servants. (Aside: Devout, religious men !) Hyss. A pretty spoken fellow. [Exit. Jack. And a rich one. Did you see the diamonds on his fingers? I warrant me his pockets are―umph! a prize? (To CRUMBS.) What say you? Crumbs. I-I !— Jack. I'd forgot. You only rob now as a steward. You're one of the regulars. Crumbs. Rob! harkye ! Jack. Come, come, John Harris; no big words. I've something here wouldn't look so well framed as that red-lipped young lady. Crumbs. Well, well, we're friends; but be cautious, I implore you. Come, you shall have more wine, wine! Jack. Wine! Ay, we will have more. And then for our plans. old boy; then for our plans. Why, how lucky it was that we met one another! You see, there were a few pressing inquiries about us in London, so we thought we'd take the benefit of country air, until the anxiety of our friends cooled a little. But then to think of the luck of our meeting! Ar'n't you delighted? (Embracing him.) Crum's. Yes, yes. But go in. You shall have wine. I'll go see to it. Juck. Wine! wine! Ha! ha! We drink courage with wine. Success to the grapes,—(Sings.) "But a blight to all hempseed, brave boys, brave boys, [CRUMBS forces JACK and HYSSOP into room in scene. Crumbs. The devil has forsaken me! To be tracked out after so many years! This visitor, too! No, my course is clear. But how to dispose of that ruffian ? Ha! he has been rating of some woman ;-by the description 'tis Heywood's wife.-I'll put him in possession of the farm, and thus rid me of him, whilst― let me see Bullf. (Asleep.) What shall we say for this wine, fifty years in bottle? Thank'e, sir; it's going,-going,-(Lets bottle full.) Crumbs. Scoundrel! Listening? Bullf. Dreaming-only dreaming. I just knocked down the sweetest ten dozen Crumbs. Up, or I'll strangle you! Is't thus you mind your business? Bullf. Business!—that's enough. Cry business and, if I don't move, you may send for the undertaker. Crumbs. Hence ! Bullf. I'm going. Business is business. Capital wine. (Sings.) "And a blight to all hempseed " Crumbs. Hence! hence! (Forces him off.) SCENE V.-The Interior of HEYWOOD's Farm-House. MARTIN, RACHEL, and their CHILDREN, seated at table, with TOBY, BEANSTALK, and his DAME. Beanstalk. Come, Martin; here be better times! So; we shall be jovial yet, man. Rachel. Ay, that we shall; and so I tell him, farmer; but he will not heed me. Martin. We've had nought but ill-luck since the old man died. Beans. "Twas awfully sudden, to be sure. Martin. Here he was, one minute as strong and as lightsome as ever; when death fell upon him like a bolt, and he lay upon that bed, panting like a run-down hare. Toby. Odd's, Martin ! look into your ale-you'll see something better than dying men. Our grandfather's in heaven. Here's Let him rest. to the memory of him! Martin. I tell you I can't but think of him. Abroad or at home I see him. Sometimes, when I'm falling into sleep, his eyes seem to stare close at my face, and I start and gasp again; and then I see him looking and pointing at that chair. You know, farmer, he'd sit in it for hours, with one of the youngsters on his knee. Still I see him with his hand stretched forth, and his throat working, as though the words were there but couldn't out; —and so he died. Depend on't, there was something on the old man's mind. Toby. Brother, shall I go to the church-yard and bring you a skull and cross-bones ?-for, in your present humour, they're your fittest company. Martin. I'm a fool to think so. Come, farmer, your hand; Toby, yours; Rachel, lass, we'll be merry yet. Here's to better times! Toby. I warrant me, there's more comfort in that than in ghosts' eyes at midnight. Why, it's up in your cheek already, man. Take another. Martin. With all my heart. And again I'll drink, better times!" Enter POLLY BRIGGS. "here's Polly. Oh, farmer Heywood! Here comes the steward and that nasty appraiser, and the beadle; and all the folks say they're coming here to seize. Martin. Rachel, stand aside !—that gun! Rachel. Oh, Martin! husband! for the love of heaven !— Martin. Shoot the first man that crosses yonder threshold Let me go! Beans. Come, come, Martin, be not rash; thee'st no reason to be so. Martin. No reason! You have a wife and children, yet say I have no reason! Are not here five-five bitter reasons? The gun! Toby. Martin, Martin, are you mad? |