The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, Henry Fielding [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

hearty curses on them at the door, but retained his anger after he came into the room; swearing that all the Londoners were like the court, and thought of nothing but plundering country gentlemen. “D⁠⸺⁠n me,” says he, “if I won’t walk in the rain rather than get into one of their handbarrows again. They have jolted me more in a mile than Brown Bess would in a long fox-chase.”

When his wrath on this occasion was a little appeased, he resumed the same passionate tone on another. “There,” says he, “there is fine business forwards now. The hounds have changed at last; and when we imagined we had a fox to deal with, od-rat it, it turns out to be a badger at last!”

“Pray, my good neighbour,” said Allworthy, “drop your metaphors, and speak a little plainer.”⁠—“Why, then,” says the squire, “to tell you plainly, we have been all this time afraid of a son of a whore of a bastard of somebody’s, I don’t know whose, not I. And now here’s a confounded son of a whore of a lord, who may be a bastard too for what I know or care, for he shall never have a daughter of mine by my consent. They have beggared the nation, but they shall never beggar me. My land shall never be sent over to Hanover.”

“You surprise me much, my good friend,” said Allworthy.⁠—“Why, zounds! I am surprised myself,” answered the squire. “I went to zee sister Western last night, according to her own appointment, and there I was had into a whole room full of women. There was my lady cousin Bellaston, and my Lady Betty, and my Lady Catherine, and my lady I don’t know who; d⁠⸺⁠n me, if ever you catch me among such a kennel of hoop-petticoat b⁠⸺⁠s! D⁠⸺⁠n me, I’d rather be run by my own dogs, as one Acton was, that the storybook says was turned into a hare, and his own dogs killed un and eat un. Od-rabbit it, no mortal was ever run in such a manner: if I dodged one way, one had me; if I offered to clap back, another snapped me. ‘Oh! certainly one of the greatest matches in England,’ says one cousin” (here he attempted to mimic them); “ ‘A very advantageous offer indeed,’ cries another cousin (for you must know they be all my cousins, thof I never zeed half o’ um before). ‘Surely,’ says that fat a‑se b⁠⸺, my Lady Bellaston, ‘cousin, you must be out of your wits to think of refusing such an offer.’ ”

“Now I begin to understand,” says Allworthy; “some person hath made proposals to Miss Western, which the ladies of the family approve, but is not to your liking.”

“My liking!” said Western, “how the devil should it? I tell you it is a lord, and those are always volks whom you know I always resolved to have nothing to do with. Did unt I refuse a matter of vorty years’ purchase now for a bit of land, which one o’ um had a mind to put into a park, only because I would have no dealings with lords, and dost think I would marry my daughter zu? Besides, ben’t I engaged to you, and did I ever go off any bargain when I had promised?”

“As to that point, neighbour,” said Allworthy, “I entirely release you from any engagement. No contract can be binding between parties who have not a full power to make it at the time, nor ever afterwards acquire the power of fulfilling it.”

“Slud! then,” answered Western, “I tell you I have power, and I will fulfil it. Come along with me directly to Doctors’ Commons, I will get a licence; and I will go to sister and take away the wench by force, and she shall ha un, or I will lock her up, and keep her upon bread and water as long as she lives.”

“Mr. Western,” said Allworthy, “shall I beg you will hear my full sentiments on this matter?”⁠—“Hear thee; ay, to be sure I will,” answered he.⁠—“Why, then, sir,” cries Allworthy, “I can truly say, without a compliment either to you or the young lady, that when this match was proposed, I embraced it very readily and heartily, from my regard to you both. An alliance between two families so nearly neighbours, and between whom there had always existed so mutual an intercourse and good harmony, I thought a most desirable event; and with regard to the young lady, not only the concurrent opinion of all who knew her, but my own observation assured me that she would be an inestimable treasure to a good husband. I shall say nothing of her personal qualifications, which certainly are admirable; her good nature, her charitable disposition, her modesty, are too well known to need any panegyric: but she hath one quality which existed in a high degree in that best of women, who is now one of the first of angels, which, as it is not of a glaring kind, more commonly escapes observation; so little indeed is it remarked, that I want a word to express it. I must use negatives on this occasion. I never heard anything of pertness, or what is called repartee, out of her mouth; no pretence to wit, much less to that kind of wisdom which is the result only of great learning and experience, the affectation of which, in a young woman, is as absurd as any of the affectations of an ape. No dictatorial sentiments, no judicial opinions, no profound criticisms. Whenever I have seen her in the company of men, she hath been all attention, with the modesty of a learner, not the forwardness of a teacher. You’ll pardon me for it, but I once, to try her only, desired her opinion on a point which was controverted between Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square. To which she answered, with much sweetness, ‘You will pardon me, good Mr. Allworthy; I am sure you cannot in earnest