[Literature] Charles Dickens: The Village Coquettes - There Are Dark Shadows on the #6/21

Here I shall stop; let him touch me, and he shall feel the weight of my indignation.

Enter FLAM.

FLAM. Ah, my charmer! Punctual to my time, you see, my sweet little Damask Rose!

JOHN (coming down). A great deal more like a monthly one,—constantly changing, and gone the moment you wear it.

ROSE. Impertinent creature!

FLAM. Who is this poetical cauliflower?

JOHN. Don’t pretend not to know me. You know who I am, well enough.

FLAM. As I live, it’s the Ox!—retire, Ox, to your pasture, and don’t rudely disturb the cooing of the doves. Go and graze, Ox!

JOHN. Suppose I choose to remain here, what then?

FLAM. Why then you must be driven off, mad Ox. (To ROSE.) Who is that other grasshopper?

ROSE. Hush, hush! for Heaven’s sake don’t let him hear you! It’s young Edmunds.

FLAM. Young Edmunds? And who the devil is young Edmunds? For beyond the natural inference that young Edmunds is the son of old Edmunds, curse me if the fame of young Edmunds has ever reached my ears.

ROSE (in a low tone). It’s Lucy’s former lover, whom she has given up for the squire.

FLAM. The rejected cultivator?

ROSE. The same.

FLAM. Ah! I guessed as much from his earthy appearance. But, my darling Rose, I must speak with you,—I must—(putting his arm round her waist, sees JOHN). Good-bye, Ox!

JOHN. Good-bye!

FLAM. Pleasant walk to you, Ox!

JOHN. (not moving). Thank ’ee;—same to you!

FLAM. That other clodpole must not stay here either.

ROSE. Yes, yes! he neither sees nor hears us. Pray let him remain.

FLAM (to JOHN). You understand, Ox, that it is my wish that you forthwith retire and graze,—or in other words, that you at once, and without delay, betake yourself to the farm, or the devil, or any other place where you are in your element, and won’t be in the way.

JOHN. Oh yes, I understand that.

FLAM. Very well; then the sooner you create a scarcity of such animals in this market, the better. Now, my dear Rose (puts his arm round her waist again). Are you gone, Ox?

JOHN. No.

FLAM. Are you going?

JOHN. By no means.

FLAM. This insolence is not to be borne.

ROSE. Oh, pray don’t hurt him,—pray don’t. Go away, you stupid creature, if you don’t want to be ruined.

JOHN. That’s just the very advice I would give you, Rose; do you go away, if you don’t want to be ruined. As for me, this is a public place, and here I’ll remain just as long as I think proper.

FLAM (quitting ROSE, and advancing towards him). You will?

JOHN. I will.

ROSE. Oh, dear, dear! I knew he’d be murdered all along. I was quite certain of it.

JOHN. Don’t frown and scowl at me,—it won’t do,—it only makes me smile; and when you talk of insolence and put my blood up, I tell you at once, that I am not to be bullied.

FLAM. Bullied?

JOHN. Ay, bullied was the word,—bullied by a coward, if you like that better.

FLAM. Coward! (Seizes his gun by the barrel, and aims a blow at him, with the butt-end; EDMUNDS rushes forward, and strikes it up with his stick.)

EDMUNDS. Hold your hand, sir,—hold your hand, or I’ll fell you to the ground. Maddox, leave this place directly: take the opposite path, and I’ll follow you. (Exit MADDOX.) As for you, sir, who by the way of vindicating yourself from the charge of cowardice, raise your gun against an unarmed man, tell your protector, the Squire, from me, that he and his companions might content themselves with turning the heads of our farmers’ daughters, and endeavouring to corrupt their hearts, without wantonly insulting the men they have most injured. Let this be a lesson to you, sir,—although you were armed, you would have had the worst of a scuffle, and you may not have the benefit of a third person’s interference at so critical a moment, another time;—remember this warning, sir, and benefit by it.

[Exit.

FLAM (aside). If Norton does not take a dear revenge for this insult, I have lost my influence with him. Bully! coward! They shall rue it.

ROSE (with her apron to her eyes). Oh, Mr. Flam! I can’t bear to think that you should have suffered all this, on my account.

FLAM (aside). On her account!—a little vanity! (To her.) Suffered! Why, my dear, it was the drollest and most humorous affair that ever happened.