[Literature] Charles Dickens: The Village Coquettes - There Are Dark Shadows on the #7/21

Here stand I,—the Honourable Sparkins Flam,—on this second day of September, one thousand seven hundred and twenty-nine; and positively and solemnly declare that all the coffee-houses, play-houses, faro-tables, brag-tables, assemblies, drums and routs of a whole season put together, could not furnish such a splendid piece of exquisite drollery. The idea is admirable. My affecting to quarrel with a ploughman, and submitting to be lectured by another caterpillar, whom I suffer to burst into a butterfly importance!

ROSE. Then you were not really quarrelling?

FLAM. Bless you, no! I was only acting.

ROSE. Lor’! how well you do act, to be sure.

FLAM. Come, let us retire into the house, or after this joke we shall be the gaze of all the animated potatoes that are planted in this hole of a village. Why do you hesitate, Damask?

ROSE. Why, I have just been thinking that if you go to all these coffee-houses, and play-houses, and fairs, and brags, and keep playing drums, and routing people about, you’ll forget me, when you go back to London.

FLAM (aside). More than probable. (To her.) Never fear; you will be generally known as Rose the lovely, and I shall be universally denominated Flam the constant.

Duet.—ROSE and SPARKINS FLAM.

FLAM.
’Tis true I’m caress’d by the witty,
The envy of all the fine beaux,
The pet of the court and the city,
But still I’m the lover of Rose.

ROSE.
Country sweethearts, oh, how I despise!
And oh! how delighted I am
To think that I shine in the eyes
Of the elegant—sweet—Mr. Flam.

FLAM. Allow me (offers to kiss her).

ROSE. Pray don’t be so bold, sir. (Kisses her.)

FLAM. What sweets on that honey’d lip hang!

ROSE. Your presumption, I know, I should scold, sir,
But I really can’t scold Mr. Flam.

BOTH.
Then let us be happy together,
Content with the world as it goes,
An unchangeable couple for ever,
Mr. Flam and his beautiful Rose.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—The Farmer’s Kitchen. A table and chairs.

Enter OLD BENSON and MARTIN.

BENSON. Well, Stokes. Now you have the opportunity you have desired, and we are alone, I am ready to listen to the information which you wished to communicate to my private ear.

MARTIN. Exactly;—you said information, I think?

BENSON. You said information, or I have forgotten.

MARTIN. Just so, exactly; I said information. I did say information, why should I deny it?

BENSON. I see no necessity for your doing so, certainly. Pray go on.

MARTIN. Why, you see, my dear Mr. Benson, the fact is—won’t you be seated? Pray sit down (brings forward two chairs;—they sit). There, now,—let me see,—where was I?

BENSON. You were going to begin, I think.

MARTIN. Oh,—ah!—so I was;—I hadn’t begun, had I?

BENSON. No, no! Pray begin again, if you had.

MARTIN. Well, then, what I have got to say is not so much information, as a kind of advice, or suggestion, or hint, or something of that kind; and it relates to—eh?—(looking very mysterious.)

BENSON. What?

MARTIN. Yes (nodding). Don’t you think there’s something wrong there?

BENSON. Where?

MARTIN. In that quarter.

BENSON. In what quarter? Speak more plainly, sir.

MARTIN. You know what a friendly feeling I entertain to your family. You know what a very particular friend of mine you are. You know how anxious I always am to prevent anything going wrong.

BENSON. Well! (abruptly).

MARTIN. Yes, I see you’re very sensible of it, but I’ll take it for granted: you needn’t bounce and fizz about, in that way, because it makes one nervous. Don’t you think, now, don’t you think, that ill-natured people may say;—don’t be angry, you know, because if I wasn’t a very particular friend of the family, I wouldn’t mention the subject on any account;—don’t you think that ill-natured people may say there’s something wrong in the frequency of the Squire’s visits here?

BENSON (starting up furiously). What!

MARTIN (aside). Here he goes again!

BENSON. Who dares suspect my child?

MARTIN. Ah, to be sure, that’s exactly what I say. Who dares? Damme, I should like to see ’em!

BENSON. Is it you?

MARTIN. I! Bless you, no, not for the world! I!—Come, that’s a good one. I only say what other people say, you know; that’s all.

BENSON.