The Contrast [7]
you are right. I am sure I found it so, to my cost.
MARIA
I mean, Sir, that as marriage is a portion for life, and so intimately involves our happiness, we cannot be too considerate in the choice of our companion.
VAN ROUGH
Right, child; very right. A young woman should be very sober when she is making her choice, but when she has once made it, as you have done, I don't see why she should not be as merry as a grig; I am sure she has reason enough to be so. Solomon says that "there is a time to laugh, and a time to weep." Now, a time for a young woman to laugh is when she has made sure of a good rich husband. Now, a time to cry, according to you, Mary, is when she is making choice of him; but I should think that a young woman's time to cry was when she despaired of getting one. Why, there was your mother, now: to be sure, when I popp'd the question to her she did look a little silly; but when she had once looked down on her apron-strings, as all modest young women us'd to do, and drawled out ye-s, she was as brisk and as merry as a bee.
MARIA
My honoured mother, Sir, had no motive to mel- ancholy; she married the man of her choice.
VAN ROUGH
The man of her choice! And pray, Mary, an't you going to marry the man of your choice--what trum- pery notion is this? It is these vile books [throwing them away]. I'd have you to know, Mary, if you won't make young Van Dumpling the man of your choice, you shall marry him as the man of my choice.
MARIA
You terrify me, Sir. Indeed, Sir, I am all submission. My will is yours.
VAN ROUGH
Why, that is the way your mother us'd to talk. "My will is yours, my dear Mr. Van Rough, my will is yours"; but she took special care to have her own way, though, for all that.
MARIA
Do not reflect upon my mother's memory, Sir--
VAN ROUGH
Why not, Mary, why not? She kept me from speak- ing my mind all her life, and do you think she shall henpeck me now she is dead too? Come, come; don't go to sniveling; be a good girl, and mind the main chance. I'll see you well settled in the world.
MARIA
I do not doubt your love, Sir, and it is my duty to obey you. I will endeavour to make my duty and inclination go hand in hand.
VAN ROUGH
Well, Well, Mary; do you be a good girl, mind the main chance, and never mind inclination. Why, do you know that I have been down in the cellar this very morning to examine a pipe of Madeira which I purchased the week you were born, and mean to tap on your wedding day?--That pipe cost me fifty pounds sterling. It was well worth sixty pounds; but I over- reach'd Ben Bulkhead, the supercargo. I'll tell you the whole story. You must know that--
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT.
Sir, Mr. Transfer, the broker is below. [Exit.
VAN ROUGH
Well, Mary, I must go. Remember, and be a good girl, and mind the main chance. [Exit.
MARIA, alone.
How deplorable is my situation! How distressing for a daughter to find her heart militating with her filial duty! I know my father loves me tenderly; why then do I reluctantly obey him? Heaven knows! with what reluctance I should oppose the will of a parent, or set an example of filial disobedience; at a parent's command, I could wed awkwardness and deformity. Were the heart of my husband good, I would so magnify his good qualities with the eye of conjugal affection, that the defects of his person and manners should be lost in the emanation of his virtues. At a father's command, I could embrace poverty. Were the poor man my husband, I would learn resignation to my lot; I would enliven our frugal meal with good humour, and chase away misfortune from our cottage with a smile. At a father's command, I could almost submit to what every female heart knows to be the most mortifying, to marry a weak man, and blush at my husband's folly in every com- pany I visited. But to marry a depraved wretch, whose only virtue is a polished exterior; who is actuated by the unmanly ambition of conquering the defenceless; whose heart, insensible
MARIA
I mean, Sir, that as marriage is a portion for life, and so intimately involves our happiness, we cannot be too considerate in the choice of our companion.
VAN ROUGH
Right, child; very right. A young woman should be very sober when she is making her choice, but when she has once made it, as you have done, I don't see why she should not be as merry as a grig; I am sure she has reason enough to be so. Solomon says that "there is a time to laugh, and a time to weep." Now, a time for a young woman to laugh is when she has made sure of a good rich husband. Now, a time to cry, according to you, Mary, is when she is making choice of him; but I should think that a young woman's time to cry was when she despaired of getting one. Why, there was your mother, now: to be sure, when I popp'd the question to her she did look a little silly; but when she had once looked down on her apron-strings, as all modest young women us'd to do, and drawled out ye-s, she was as brisk and as merry as a bee.
MARIA
My honoured mother, Sir, had no motive to mel- ancholy; she married the man of her choice.
VAN ROUGH
The man of her choice! And pray, Mary, an't you going to marry the man of your choice--what trum- pery notion is this? It is these vile books [throwing them away]. I'd have you to know, Mary, if you won't make young Van Dumpling the man of your choice, you shall marry him as the man of my choice.
MARIA
You terrify me, Sir. Indeed, Sir, I am all submission. My will is yours.
VAN ROUGH
Why, that is the way your mother us'd to talk. "My will is yours, my dear Mr. Van Rough, my will is yours"; but she took special care to have her own way, though, for all that.
MARIA
Do not reflect upon my mother's memory, Sir--
VAN ROUGH
Why not, Mary, why not? She kept me from speak- ing my mind all her life, and do you think she shall henpeck me now she is dead too? Come, come; don't go to sniveling; be a good girl, and mind the main chance. I'll see you well settled in the world.
MARIA
I do not doubt your love, Sir, and it is my duty to obey you. I will endeavour to make my duty and inclination go hand in hand.
VAN ROUGH
Well, Well, Mary; do you be a good girl, mind the main chance, and never mind inclination. Why, do you know that I have been down in the cellar this very morning to examine a pipe of Madeira which I purchased the week you were born, and mean to tap on your wedding day?--That pipe cost me fifty pounds sterling. It was well worth sixty pounds; but I over- reach'd Ben Bulkhead, the supercargo. I'll tell you the whole story. You must know that--
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT.
Sir, Mr. Transfer, the broker is below. [Exit.
VAN ROUGH
Well, Mary, I must go. Remember, and be a good girl, and mind the main chance. [Exit.
MARIA, alone.
How deplorable is my situation! How distressing for a daughter to find her heart militating with her filial duty! I know my father loves me tenderly; why then do I reluctantly obey him? Heaven knows! with what reluctance I should oppose the will of a parent, or set an example of filial disobedience; at a parent's command, I could wed awkwardness and deformity. Were the heart of my husband good, I would so magnify his good qualities with the eye of conjugal affection, that the defects of his person and manners should be lost in the emanation of his virtues. At a father's command, I could embrace poverty. Were the poor man my husband, I would learn resignation to my lot; I would enliven our frugal meal with good humour, and chase away misfortune from our cottage with a smile. At a father's command, I could almost submit to what every female heart knows to be the most mortifying, to marry a weak man, and blush at my husband's folly in every com- pany I visited. But to marry a depraved wretch, whose only virtue is a polished exterior; who is actuated by the unmanly ambition of conquering the defenceless; whose heart, insensible