Act I
Scene, an inn. Enter BONNIFACE running.
BONNIFACE. Chamberlain, maid, Cherry, daughter Cherry, all asleep, all dead?
Enter CHERRY running.
CHERRY. Here, here, why dâye bawl so, Father? dâye think we have no ears?
BONNIFACE. You deserve to have none, you young minx; â the company of the Warrington coach has stood in the hall this hour, and no body to show them to their chambers.
CHERRY. And let âem wait farther; thereâs neither red coat in the coach, nor footman behind it.
BONNIFACE. But they threaten to go to another inn tonight.
CHERRY. That they dare not, for fear the coachman should overturn them tomorrow. â Coming, coming: hereâs the London coach arrivâd.
Enter several people with trunks, band-boxes, and other luggage, and cross the stage.
BONNIFACE. Welcome, ladies.
CHERRY. Very welcome, gentlemen â chamberlain, show the Lion and the Rose.
Exit with the company.
Enter AIMWELL in riding habit, ARCHER as footman carrying a portmantle.
BONNIFACE. This way, this way, gentlemen.
AIMWELL. Set down the things, go to the stable, and see my horses well rubbâd.
ARCHER. I shall, sir.
Exit.
AIMWELL. Youâre my landlord, I suppose?
BONNIFACE. Yes, sir, Iâm old Will. Bonniface, pretty well known upon this road, as the saying is.
AIMWELL. O Mr. Bonniface, your servant.
BONNIFACE. O sir â what will your honour please to drink, as the saying is?
AIMWELL. I have heard your town of Lichfield much famâd for ale, I think Iâll taste that.
BONNIFACE. Sir, I have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in Staffordshire; âtis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourteen year old the fifth day of next March old style.
AIMWELL. Youâre very exact, I find, in the age of your ale.
BONNIFACE. As punctual, sir, as I am in the age of my children: Iâll show you such ale â here, tapster, broach Number 1706 as the saying is; â Sir, you shall taste my Anno Domini; â I have livâd in Lichfield man and boy above eight and fifty years, and I believe have not consumâd eight and fifty ounces of meat.
AIMWELL. At a meal, you mean, if one may guess your sense by your bulk.
BONNIFACE. Not in my life, sir, I have fed purely upon ale; I have eat my ale, drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale.
Enter TAPSTER with a bottle and glass.
Now, sir, you shall see. (Filling it out.) Your worshipâs health; ha! delicious, delicious, â fancy it burgundy, only fancy it, and âtis worth ten shilling a quart.
AIMWELL (drinks). âTis confounded strong.
BONNIFACE. Strong! It must be so, or how should we be strong that drink it?
AIMWELL. And have you livâd so long upon this ale, landlord?
BONNIFACE. Eight and fifty years upon my credit, sir; but it killâd my wife, poor woman, as the saying is.
AIMWELL. How came that to pass?
BONNIFACE. I donât know how, sir; she would not let the ale take its natural course, sir, she was for qualifying it every now and then with a dram, as the saying is; and an honest gentleman that came this way from Ireland, made her a present of a dozen bottles of usquebaugh â But the poor woman was never well after: but howeâer, I was obliged to the gentleman, you know.
AIMWELL. Why, was it the usquebaugh that killâd her?
BONNIFACE. My Lady Bountiful said so, â She, good lady, did what could be done, she cured her of three tympanies, but the fourth carried her off; but sheâs happy, and Iâm contented, as the saying is.
CHERRY. Whoâs that Lady Bountiful, you mentionâd?
BONNIFACE. Odâs my life, sir, weâll drink her health. (Drinks.) My Lady Bountiful is one of the best of women: her last husband Sir Charles Bountiful left her worth a thousand pound a year; and I believe she lays out one half onât in charitable uses for the good of her neighbours; she cures rheumatisms, ruptures, and broken shins in men, green sickness, obstructions, and fits of the mother in women; â the kings-evil, chin-cough, and chilblains in children; in short, she has cured more people in and about Lichfield within ten years than the doctors have killâd in twenty; and thatâs a bold word.
AIMWELL. Has the lady been any other way useful in her generation?
BONNIFACE. Yes, sir, she has a daughter by Sir Charles, the finest woman in all our country, and the greatest fortune. She has a son too by her first husband Squire Sullen, who married a fine lady from London tâother day; if you please, sir, weâll drink his health?
AIMWELL. What sort of a man is he?
BONNIFACE. Why, sir, the manâs well enough; says little, thinks less, and does â nothing at all, faith: But heâs a man of a great estate, and values nobody.
AIMWELL. A sportsman, I suppose.
BONNIFACE. Yes, sir, heâs a man of pleasure, he plays at whisk, and smokes his pipe eight and forty hours together sometimes.
AIMWELL. And married, you say?
BONNIFACE. Ay, and to a curious woman, sir, â But heâs a â He wants it, here, sir. (Pointing to his forehead.)
AIMWELL. He has it there, you mean.
BONNIFACE. Thatâs none of my business, heâs my landlord, and so a man you know, would not, â But â Ecod, heâs no better than â Sir, my humble service to you. (Drinks.) Thoâ I value not a farthing what he can do to me; I pay him his rent at Quarter Day, I have a good running trade, I have but one daughter, and I can give her â but no matter for that.
AIMWELL. Youâre very happy, Mr. Bonniface, pray what other company have you in town?
BONNIFACE. A power of fine ladies, and then we have the French officers.
AIMWELL. O thatâs right, you have a good many of those gentlemen: Pray how do you like their company?
BONNIFACE. So well, as the saying is, that I could wish we had as many more of âem, theyâre full of money, and pay double for everything they have; they know, sir, that we paid good round taxes for the taking of âem, and so they are willing to reimburse us a little; one of âem lodges in my house.
Enter ARCHER.
ARCHER. Landlord, there are some French gentlemen below that ask for you.
BONNIFACE. Iâll wait on âem; â Does your master stay long in town, as the saying is? (To ARCHER.)
ARCHER. I canât tell, as the saying is.
BONNIFACE. Come from London?
ARCHER. No.
BONNIFACE. Going to London, mayhap?
ARCHER. No.
BONNIFACE. An odd fellow this. I beg your worshipâs pardon, Iâll wait on you in half a minute.
Exit.
AIMWELL. The coastâs clear, I see, â Now my dear Archer, welcome to Lichfield.
ARCHER. I thank thee, my dear brother in iniquity.
AIMWELL. Iniquity! prithee leave canting, you need not change your style with your dress.
ARCHER. Donât mistake me, Aimwell, for âtis still my maxim, that there is no scandal like rags, nor any crime so shameful as poverty.
AIMWELL. The world confesses it every day in its practice, thoâ men wonât own it for their opinion: who did that worthy Lord, my brother, single out of the side-box to sup with him tâother night?
ARCHER. Jack Han...