Читать книгу Next Door Neighbours: A Comedy; In Three Acts - Louis Sébastien Mercier - Страница 3

ELEANOR

It is very late and very cold too, brother; and yet we have neither of us heart to bid each other good night.

HENRY

No – beds were made for rest.

ELEANOR

And that noise of carriages and link-boys at Sir George Splendorville's, next door, would keep us awake, if our sorrows did not.

HENRY

The poor have still more to complain of, when chance throws them thus near the rich, – it forces upon their minds a comparison might drive them to despair, if —

ELEANOR

– If they should not have good sense enough to reflect, that all this bustle and show of pleasure, may fall very short of happiness; as all the distress we feel, has not yet, thank Heaven, reached to misery.

HENRY

What do you call it then?

ELEANOR

A trial; sent to make us patient.

HENRY

It may make you so, but cannot me. Good morning to you.

[Going.

ELEANOR

Nay, it is night yet. Where are you going?

HENRY

I don't know. – To take a walk. – The streets are not more uncomfortable than this place, and scarcely colder.

ELEANOR

Oh, my dear brother! I cannot express half the uneasiness I feel when you part from me, though but for the shortest space.

HENRY

Why?

ELEANOR

Because I know your temper; you are impatient under adversity; you rashly think providence is unkind; and you would snatch those favours, which are only valuable when bestowed.

HENRY

What do you mean?

ELEANOR

Nay, do not be angry; but every time you go out into this tempting town, where superfluous riches continually meet the eye of the poor, I tremble lest you should forfeit your honesty for that, which Heaven decreed should not belong to you.

HENRY

And if I did, you would despise and desert me?

ELEANOR

No: not desert you; for I am convinced you would only take, to bring to me; but this is to assure you, I do not want for any thing.

HENRY

Not want? – Nor does my father?

ELEANOR

Scarcely, while we visit him. Every time he sees us we make him happy; but he would never behold us again if we behaved unworthy of him.

HENRY

What! banish us from a prison?

ELEANOR

And although it is a prison, you could not be happy under such a restriction.

HENRY

Happy! – When was I happy last?

ELEANOR

Yesterday, when your father thanked you for your kindness to him. Did we not all three weep with affection for each other? and was not that happiness?

HENRY

It was – nor will I give up such satisfaction, for any enticement that can offer. – Be contented, Eleanor, – for your sake and my father's, I will be honest. – Nay, more, – I will be scrupulously proud – and that line of conduct which my own honour could not force me to follow, my love to you and him, shall compel me to. – When, through necessity, I am tempted to plunder, your blushes and my father's anguish shall hold my hand. – And when I am urged through impatience, to take away my own life, your lingering death and his, shall check the horrid suggestion, and I will live for you.

ELEANOR

Then do not ever trust yourself away, at least from one of us.

HENRY

Dear sister! do you imagine that your power is less when separated from me? Do you suppose I think less frequently on my father and his dismal prison, because we are not always together? Oh! no! he comes even more forcibly to my thoughts in his absence – and then, more bitterly do I feel his misery, than while the patient old man, before my eyes, talks to me of his consolations; his internal comforts from a conscience pure, a mind without malice, and a heart, where every virtue occupy a place. – Therefore, do not fear that I shall forget either him or you, though I might possibly forget myself.

[Exit.

ELEANOR

If before him I am cheerful, yet to myself I must complain. [Weeps] And that sound of festivity at the house adjoining is insupportable! especially when I reflect that a very small portion of what will be wasted there only this one night, would be sufficient to give my dear father liberty.

[A rapping at the door of her chamber, on theopposite entrance.]

ELEANOR

Who's there?

MR. BLACKMAN

Open the door. [Without.

ELEANOR

The voice of our landlord. [Goes to the door.

Is it you, Mr. Blackman?

BLACKMAN

Yes, open the door. [Rapping louder.

[She opens it: Blackman enters, followedby Bluntly.]

BLACKMAN

What a time have you made me wait! – And in the name of wonder, why do you lock your door? Have you any thing to lose? Have not you already sold all the furniture you brought hither? And are you afraid of being stolen yourself?

[Eleanor retires to the back of the Stage.

BLUNTLY

Is this the chamber?

BLACKMAN

Yes, Sir, yes, Mr. Bluntly, this is it.

[Blackman assumes a very different tone ofvoice in speaking to Bluntly and Eleanor; to the one he is all submissive humility,to the other all harshness.]

BLUNTLY

This! [Contemptuously.

BLACKMAN

Why yes, sir, – this is the only place I have left in my own house, since your master has been pleased to occupy that next door, while his own magnificent one has been repairing. – Lock yourself up, indeed! (Looking at Eleanor.) – You have been continually asking me for more rooms, Mr. Bluntly, and have not I made near half a dozen doors already from one house to the other, on purpose to accommodate your good family. – Upon my honour, I have not now a single chamber but what I have let to these lodgers, and what I have absolute occasion for myself.

BLUNTLY

And if you do put yourself to a little inconvenience, Mr. Blackman, surely my master —

BLACKMAN

Your master, Mr. Bluntly, is a very good man – a very generous man – and I hope at least he has found me a very lucky one; for good luck is all the recommendation which I, in my humble station, aspire to – and since I have been Sir George's attorney, I have gained him no less than two law-suits.

BLUNTLY

I know it. I know also that you have lost him four.

BLACKMAN

We'll drop the subject. – And in regard to this room, sir, it does not suit, you say?

BLUNTLY

No, for I feel the cold wind blow through every crevice.

BLACKMAN

But suppose I was to have it put a little into repair? That window, for instance, shall have a pane or two of glass put in; the cracks of the door shall be stopt up; and then every thing will have a very different appearance.

BLUNTLY

And why has not this been done before?

BLACKMAN

Would you have me be laying out my money, while I only let the place at a paltry price, to people who I am obliged to threaten to turn into the streets every quarter, before I can get my rent from them?

BLUNTLY

Is that the situation of your lodgers at present?

BLACKMAN

Yes. – But they made a better appearance when they first came, or I had not taken such persons to live thus near to your master.

BLUNTLY

That girl (looking at Eleanor) seems very pretty – and I dare say my master would not care if he was nearer to her.

BLACKMAN

Pshaw, pshaw – she is a poor creature – she is in great distress. She is misery itself.

BLUNTLY

I feel quite charmed with misery. – Who belongs to her?

BLACKMAN

A young man who says he is her brother – very likely he is not – but that I should not enquire about, if they could pay my rent. If people will pay me, I don't care what they are. (Addressing himself to