Enter Bruſh, my Lord's valet-de-chambre,...
Overview
- Female: 1
- Male: 1
Context
Brush, Lord Ogleby's valet, is showing off to the Sterling family's chambermaid. He boasts how he is in charge of his elderly employer and can help himself to anything he want. Brush is a player and smooth-talker, and enjoys toying with the chambermaid's affections. She enjoys his flirtations but is responsible about her work.
[For full play text, see: The Clandestine Marriage]
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Enter Bruſh, my Lord's valet-de-chambre, and Sterling's chamber-maid.
Bruſh.YOU ſhall ſtay, my dear, I inſiſt upon it.
Ch. Maid. Nay, pray, Sir, don't be ſo poſitive; I can't ſtay indeed.
Bruſh. You ſhall take one cup to our better acquaintance.
Ch. Maid. I ſeldom drinks chocolate; and if I did, one has no ſatisfaction, with ſuch apprehenſions about one—if my Lord ſhould wake, or the Swiſh gentleman ſhould ſee one, or Madam Heidelberg ſhould know of it, I ſhould be frighted to death—beſides I have had my tea already this morning—I'm ſure I hear my Lord. [in a fright.
Bruſh. No, no, Madam, don't flutter yourſelf—the moment my Lord wakes, he rings his bell, which I anſwer ſooner or later, as it ſuits my convenience.
Ch. Maid. But ſhould he come upon us without ringing—
Bruſh. I'll forgive him if he does—This key [takes a phial out of the caſe] locks him up till I pleaſe to let him out.
Ch. Maid. Law, Sir! that's potecary's-ſtuff.
Bruſh. It is ſo—but without this he can no more get out of bed—than he can read without ſpectacles—[ſips.] What with qualms, age, rheumatiſm, and a few ſurfeits in his youth, he muſt have a great deal of bruſhing, oyling, ſcrewing, and winding up to let him a going for the day.
Ch. Maid. [ſips.] That's prodigious indeed—[ſips.] My Lord ſeems quite in a decay.
Bruſh. Yes, he's quite a ſpectacle, [ſips.] a mere corpſe, till he is reviv'd and refreſh'd from our little magazine here—When the reſtorative pills, and cordial waters warm his ſtomach, and get into his head, vanity friſks in his heart, and then he ſets up for the lover, the rake, and the fine gentleman.
Ch. Maid. [ſips.] Poor gentleman!—but ſhould the Swiſh gentleman come upon us. [frighten'd.
Bruſh. Why then the Engliſh gentleman would be very angry—No foreigner muſt break in upon my privacy. [ſips.] But I can aſſure you Monſieur Canton is otherwiſe employ'd—He is oblig'd to ſkim the cream of half a ſcore news-papers for my Lord's breakfaſt—ha, ha, ha. Pray, Madam, drink your cup peaceably—My Lord's chocolate is remarkably good, he won't touch a drop but what comes from Italy.
Ch. Maid. [ſipping.] 'Tis very fine indeed!—[ſips.] and charmingly perfum'd—it ſmells for all the world like our young ladies dreſſing-boxes.
Bruſh. You have an excellent taſte, Madam, and I muſt beg of you to accept of a few cakes for your own drinking, [takes 'em out of a drawer in the table.] and in return, I deſire nothing but to taſte the perfume of your lips—[kiſſes her.]—A ſmall return of favours, Madam, will make, I hope, this country and retirement agreeable to both. [he bows, ſhe curtſies.] Your young ladies are fine girls, faith: [ſips.] tho' upon my ſoul, I am quite of my old lord's mind about them; and were I inclin'd to matrimony, I ſhould take the youngeſt. [ſips.]
Ch. Maid. Miſs Fanny's the moſt affableſt and the moſt beſt nater'd creter!
Bruſh. And the eldeſt a little haughty or ſo——
Ch. Maid. More haughtier and prouder than Saturn himſelf—but this I ſay quite confidential to you, for one would not hurt a young lady's marriage, you know. [ſips.]
Bruſh. By no means, but you can't hurt it with us—we don't conſider tempers—we want money, Mrs. Nancy—give us enough of that, we'll abate you a great deal in other particulars—ha, ha, ha.
Ch. Maid. Bleſs me, here's ſomebody—[bell rings.]—O! 'tis my Lord—Well, your ſervant, Mr. Bruſh—I'll clean the cups in the next room.
Bruſh. Do ſo—but never mind the bell—I ſhan't go this half hour.—Will you drink tea with me in the afternoon?
Ch. Maid. Not for the world, Mr. Bruſh—I'll be here to ſet all things to rights—but I muſt not drink tea indeed—and ſo your ſervant. [Exit Maid with tea-board.
[Bell rings again.]
Bruſh. It is impoſſible to ſtupify one's ſelf in the country for a week without ſome little flirting with the Abigails:—this is much the handſomeſt wench in the houſe, except the old citizen's youngeſt daughter, and I have not time enough to lay a plan for Her—[Bell rings.] And now I'll go to my Lord, for I have nothing elſe to do. [going.
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