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diff --git a/old/lv4lv10.txt b/old/lv4lv10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9b0a34 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lv4lv10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5202 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Love for Love by William Congreve +#3 in our series by William Congreve + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +LOVE FOR LOVE--A COMEDY + + + + +Nudus agris, nudus nummis paternis, +Insanire parat certa ratione modoque. + +- HOR. + + + +TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE +CHARLES, EARL OF DORSET AND MIDDLESEX, +LORD CHAMBERLAIN OF HIS MAJESTY'S HOUSEHOLD, +AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, ETC. + + + +My Lord,--A young poet is liable to the same vanity and indiscretion +with a young lover; and the great man who smiles upon one, and the +fine woman who looks kindly upon t'other, are both of 'em in danger +of having the favour published with the first opportunity. + +But there may be a different motive, which will a little distinguish +the offenders. For though one should have a vanity in ruining +another's reputation, yet the other may only have an ambition to +advance his own. And I beg leave, my lord, that I may plead the +latter, both as the cause and excuse of this dedication. + +Whoever is king is also the father of his country; and as nobody can +dispute your lordship's monarchy in poetry, so all that are +concerned ought to acknowledge your universal patronage. And it is +only presuming on the privilege of a loyal subject that I have +ventured to make this, my address of thanks, to your lordship, which +at the same time includes a prayer for your protection. + +I am not ignorant of the common form of poetical dedications, which +are generally made up of panegyrics, where the authors endeavour to +distinguish their patrons, by the shining characters they give them, +above other men. But that, my lord, is not my business at this +time, nor is your lordship NOW to be distinguished. I am contented +with the honour I do myself in this epistle without the vanity of +attempting to add to or explain your Lordships character. + +I confess it is not without some struggling that I behave myself in +this case as I ought: for it is very hard to be pleased with a +subject, and yet forbear it. But I choose rather to follow Pliny's +precept, than his example, when, in his panegyric to the Emperor +Trajan, he says:- + + +Nec minus considerabo quid aures ejus pati possint, quam quid +virtutibus debeatur. + + +I hope I may be excused the pedantry of a quotation when it is so +justly applied. Here are some lines in the print (and which your +lordship read before this play was acted) that were omitted on the +stage; and particularly one whole scene in the third act, which not +only helps the design forward with less precipitation, but also +heightens the ridiculous character of Foresight, which indeed seems +to be maimed without it. But I found myself in great danger of a +long play, and was glad to help it where I could. Though +notwithstanding my care and the kind reception it had from the town, +I could heartily wish it yet shorter: but the number of different +characters represented in it would have been too much crowded in +less room. + +This reflection on prolixity (a fault for which scarce any one +beauty will atone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain your +lordship any longer with the trifles of, my lord, your lordship's +most obedient and most humble servant, + +WILLIAM CONGREVE. + + + +PROLOGUE. Spoken, at the opening of the new house, by Mr Betterton. + + + +The husbandman in vain renews his toil +To cultivate each year a hungry soil; +And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit, +When what should feed the tree devours the root; +Th' unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth, +Unless transplanted to more kindly earth. +So the poor husbands of the stage, who found +Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground, +This last and only remedy have proved, +And hope new fruit from ancient stocks removed. +Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid, +Well plant a soil which you so rich have made. +As Nature gave the world to man's first age, +So from your bounty, we receive this stage; +The freedom man was born to, you've restored, +And to our world such plenty you afford, +It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord. +But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way, +And when but two were made, both went astray; +Forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive, +If in our larger family we grieve +One falling Adam and one tempted Eve. +We who remain would gratefully repay +What our endeavours can, and bring this day +The first-fruit offering of a virgin play. +We hope there's something that may please each taste, +And though of homely fare we make the feast, +Yet you will find variety at least. +There's humour, which for cheerful friends we got, +And for the thinking party there's a plot. +We've something, too, to gratify ill-nature, +(If there be any here), and that is satire. +Though satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild +Or only shows its teeth, as if it smiled. +As asses thistles, poets mumble wit, +And dare not bite for fear of being bit: +They hold their pens, as swords are held by fools, +And are afraid to use their own edge-tools. +Since the Plain-Dealer's scenes of manly rage, +Not one has dared to lash this crying age. +This time, the poet owns the bold essay, +Yet hopes there's no ill-manners in his play; +And he declares, by me, he has designed +Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind. +And should th' ensuing scenes not chance to hit, +He offers but this one excuse, 'twas writ +Before your late encouragement of wit. + + + +EPILOGUE. Spoken, at the opening of the new house, by Mrs +Bracegirdle. + + + +Sure Providence at first designed this place +To be the player's refuge in distress; +For still in every storm they all run hither, +As to a shed that shields 'em from the weather. +But thinking of this change which last befel us, +It's like what I have heard our poets tell us: +For when behind our scenes their suits are pleading, +To help their love, sometimes they show their reading; +And, wanting ready cash to pay for hearts, +They top their learning on us, and their parts. +Once of philosophers they told us stories, +Whom, as I think, they called--Py--Pythagories, +I'm sure 'tis some such Latin name they give 'em, +And we, who know no better, must believe 'em. +Now to these men, say they, such souls were given, +That after death ne'er went to hell nor heaven, +But lived, I know not how, in beasts; and then +When many years were past, in men again. +Methinks, we players resemble such a soul, +That does from bodies, we from houses stroll. +Thus Aristotle's soul, of old that was, +May now be damned to animate an ass, +Or in this very house, for ought we know, +Is doing painful penance in some beau; +And thus our audience, which did once resort +To shining theatres to see our sport, +Now find us tossed into a tennis-court. +These walls but t'other day were filled with noise +Of roaring gamesters and your dam'me boys; +Then bounding balls and rackets they encompast, +And now they're filled with jests, and flights, and bombast! +I vow, I don't much like this transmigration, +Strolling from place to place by circulation; +Grant heaven, we don't return to our first station! +I know not what these think, but for my part +I can't reflect without an aching heart, +How we should end in our original, a cart. +But we can't fear, since you're so good to save us, +That you have only set us up, to leave us. +Thus from the past we hope for future grace, +I beg it - +And some here know I have a begging face. +Then pray continue this your kind behaviour, +For a clear stage won't do, without your favour. + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + + +MEN. + +SIR SAMPSON LEGEND, father to Valentine and Ben,--Mr Underhill. +VALENTINE, fallen under his father's displeasure by his expensive +way of living, in love with Angelica,--Mr Betterton. +SCANDAL, his friend, a free speaker,--Mr Smith. +TATTLE, a half-witted beau, vain of his amours, yet valuing himself +for secrecy,--Mr Bowman. +BEN, Sir Sampson's younger son, half home-bred and half sea-bred, +designed to marry Miss Prue,--Mr Dogget. +FORESIGHT, an illiterate old fellow, peevish and positive, +superstitious, and pretending to understand astrology, palmistry, +physiognomy, omens, dreams, etc; uncle to Angelica,--Mr Sanford. +JEREMY, servant to Valentine,--Mr Bowen. +TRAPLAND, a scrivener,--Mr Triffusis. +BUCKRAM, a lawyer,--Mr Freeman. + + +WOMEN. + + +ANGELICA, niece to Foresight, of a considerable fortune in her own +hands,--Mrs Bracegirdle. +MRS FORESIGHT, second wife to Foresight,--Mrs Bowman. +MRS FRAIL, sister to Mrs Foresight, a woman of the town,--Mrs Barry. +MISS PRUE, daughter to Foresight by a former wife, a silly, awkward +country girl,--Mrs Ayliff. +NURSE to MISS,--Mrs Leigh. +JENNY,--Mrs Lawson. + +A STEWARD, OFFICERS, SAILORS, AND SEVERAL SERVANTS. + +The Scene in London. + + + +LOVE FOR LOVE--ACT I.--SCENE I. + + + +VALENTINE in his chamber reading. JEREMY waiting. + +Several books upon the table. + +VAL. Jeremy. + +JERE. Sir? + +VAL. Here, take away. I'll walk a turn and digest what I have +read. + +JERE. You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet. [Aside, and +taking away the books.] + +VAL. And d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a page doubled +down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor. + +JERE. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts? + +VAL. Read, read, sirrah, and refine your appetite; learn to live +upon instruction; feast your mind and mortify your flesh; read, and +take your nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew +the cud of understanding. So Epictetus advises. + +JERE. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited upon a +gentleman at Cambridge. Pray what was that Epictetus? + +VAL. A very rich man.--Not worth a groat. + +JERE. Humph, and so he has made a very fine feast, where there is +nothing to be eaten? + +VAL. Yes. + +JERE. Sir, you're a gentleman, and probably understand this fine +feeding: but if you please, I had rather be at board wages. Does +your Epictetus, or your Seneca here, or any of these poor rich +rogues, teach you how to pay your debts without money? Will they +shut up the mouths of your creditors? Will Plato be bail for you? +Or Diogenes, because he understands confinement, and lived in a tub, +go to prison for you? 'Slife, sir, what do you mean, to mew +yourself up here with three or four musty books, in commendation of +starving and poverty? + +VAL. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it; and therefore +resolve to rail at all that have. And in that I but follow the +examples of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages, these poets and +philosophers whom you naturally hate, for just such another reason; +because they abound in sense, and you are a fool. + +JERE. Ay, sir, I am a fool, I know it: and yet, heaven help me, +I'm poor enough to be a wit. But I was always a fool when I told +you what your expenses would bring you to; your coaches and your +liveries; your treats and your balls; your being in love with a lady +that did not care a farthing for you in your prosperity; and keeping +company with wits that cared for nothing but your prosperity; and +now, when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one another. + +VAL. Well, and now I am poor I have an opportunity to be revenged +on them all. I'll pursue Angelica with more love than ever, and +appear more notoriously her admirer in this restraint, than when I +openly rivalled the rich fops that made court to her. So shall my +poverty be a mortification to her pride, and, perhaps, make her +compassionate the love which has principally reduced me to this +lowness of fortune. And for the wits, I'm sure I am in a condition +to be even with them. + +JERE. Nay, your condition is pretty even with theirs, that's the +truth on't. + +VAL. I'll take some of their trade out of their hands. + +JERE. Now heaven of mercy continue the tax upon paper. You don't +mean to write? + +VAL. Yes, I do. I'll write a play. + +JERE. Hem! Sir, if you please to give me a small certificate of +three lines--only to certify those whom it may concern, that the +bearer hereof, Jeremy Fetch by name, has for the space of seven +years truly and faithfully served Valentine Legend, Esq., and that +he is not now turned away for any misdemeanour, but does voluntarily +dismiss his master from any future authority over him - + +VAL. No, sirrah; you shall live with me still. + +JERE. Sir, it's impossible. I may die with you, starve with you, +or be damned with your works. But to live, even three days, the +life of a play, I no more expect it than to be canonised for a muse +after my decease. + +VAL. You are witty, you rogue. I shall want your help. I'll have +you learn to make couplets to tag the ends of acts. D'ye hear? Get +the maids to Crambo in an evening, and learn the knack of rhyming: +you may arrive at the height of a song sent by an unknown hand, or a +chocolate-house lampoon. + +JERE. But, sir, is this the way to recover your father's favour? +Why, Sir Sampson will be irreconcilable. If your younger brother +should come from sea, he'd never look upon you again. You're +undone, sir; you're ruined; you won't have a friend left in the +world if you turn poet. Ah, pox confound that Will's coffee-house: +it has ruined more young men than the Royal Oak lottery. Nothing +thrives that belongs to't. The man of the house would have been an +alderman by this time, with half the trade, if he had set up in the +city. For my part, I never sit at the door that I don't get double +the stomach that I do at a horse race. The air upon Banstead-Downs +is nothing to it for a whetter; yet I never see it, but the spirit +of famine appears to me, sometimes like a decayed porter, worn out +with pimping, and carrying billet doux and songs: not like other +porters, for hire, but for the jests' sake. Now like a thin +chairman, melted down to half his proportion, with carrying a poet +upon tick, to visit some great fortune; and his fare to be paid him +like the wages of sin, either at the day of marriage, or the day of +death. + +VAL. Very well, sir; can you proceed? + +JERE. Sometimes like a bilked bookseller, with a meagre terrified +countenance, that looks as if he had written for himself, or were +resolved to turn author, and bring the rest of his brethren into the +same condition. And lastly, in the form of a worn-out punk, with +verses in her hand, which her vanity had preferred to settlements, +without a whole tatter to her tail, but as ragged as one of the +muses; or as if she were carrying her linen to the paper-mill, to be +converted into folio books of warning to all young maids, not to +prefer poetry to good sense, or lying in the arms of a needy wit, +before the embraces of a wealthy fool. + + +SCENE II. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY. + +SCAN. What, Jeremy holding forth? + +VAL. The rogue has (with all the wit he could muster up) been +declaiming against wit. + +SCAN. Ay? Why, then, I'm afraid Jeremy has wit: for wherever it +is, it's always contriving its own ruin. + +JERE. Why, so I have been telling my master, sir: Mr Scandal, for +heaven's sake, sir, try if you can dissuade him from turning poet. + +SCAN. Poet! He shall turn soldier first, and rather depend upon +the outside of his head than the lining. Why, what the devil, has +not your poverty made you enemies enough? Must you needs shew your +wit to get more? + +JERE. Ay, more indeed: for who cares for anybody that has more wit +than himself? + +SCAN. Jeremy speaks like an oracle. Don't you see how worthless +great men and dull rich rogues avoid a witty man of small fortune? +Why, he looks like a writ of enquiry into their titles and estates, +and seems commissioned by heaven to seize hte better half. + +VAL. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be revenged. + +SCAN. Rail? At whom? The whole world? Impotent and vain! Who +would die a martyr to sense in a country where the religion is +folly? You may stand at bay for a while; but when the full cry is +against you, you shan't have fair play for your life. If you can't +be fairly run down by the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by +the huntsmen. No, turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be +chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but +poet. A modern poet is worse, more servile, timorous, and fawning, +than any I have named: without you could retrieve the ancient +honours of the name, recall the stage of Athens, and be allowed the +force of open honest satire. + +VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character +had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently +bent upon the trade. [One knocks.] Jeremy, see who's there. +[JERE. goes to the door.] But tell me what you would have me do? +What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement? + +SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions; +some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame +you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and +pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults. + +VAL. How now? + +JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns +with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time. + +VAL. What answer have you given 'em? + +SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt. + +JERE. No, faith, sir; I have put 'em off so long with patience and +forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced now to tell 'em +in plain downright English - + +VAL. What? + +JERE. That they should be paid. + +VAL. When? + +JERE. To-morrow. + +VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word? + +JERE. Keep it? Not at all; it has been so very much stretched that +I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be +surprised at the matter. [Knocking.] Again! Sir, if you don't +like my negotiation, will you be pleased to answer these yourself? + +VAL. See who they are. + + +SCENE III. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL. + +VAL. By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great; +secretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an +army lead just such a life as I do; have just such crowds of +visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are +but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts. + +SCAN. And you, like a true great man, having engaged their +attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are +more perplexed to find evasions than you would be to invent the +honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors. + +VAL. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your +enemies; this liberty of your tongue will one day bring a +confinement on your body, my friend. + + +SCENE IV. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY. + +JERE. O sir, there's Trapland the scrivener, with two suspicious +fellows like lawful pads, that would knock a man down with pocket- +tipstaves. And there's your father's steward, and the nurse with +one of your children from Twitnam. + +VAL. Pox on her, could she find no other time to fling my sins in +my face? Here, give her this, [gives money] and bid her trouble me +no more; a thoughtless two-handed whore, she knows my condition well +enough, and might have overlaid the child a fortnight ago, if she +had had any forecast in her. + +SCAN. What, is it bouncing Margery, with my godson? + +JERE. Yes, sir. + +SCAN. My blessing to the boy, with this token [gives money] of my +love. And d'ye hear, bid Margery put more flocks in her bed, shift +twice a week, and not work so hard, that she may not smell so +vigorously. I shall take the air shortly. + +VAL. Scandal, don't spoil my boy's milk. Bid Trapland come in. If +I can give that Cerberus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day. + + +SCENE V. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY. + +VAL. Oh, Mr Trapland! My old friend! Welcome. Jeremy, a chair +quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast--fly--a chair first. + +TRAP. A good morning to you, Mr Valentine, and to you, Mr Scandal. + +SCAN. The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it. + +VAL. Come, sit you down, you know his way. + +TRAP. [sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of 1500 pounds of +pretty long standing - + +VAL. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah, +the sack. + +TRAP. And I desire to know what course you have taken for the +payment? + +VAL. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to +you. Fill, fill to honest Mr Trapland--fuller. + +TRAP. Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service +to you, Mr Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long - + +VAL. T'other glass, and then we'll talk. Fill, Jeremy. + +TRAP. No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say - + +VAL. Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome +daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.] + +TRAP. Thank you. I have been out of this money - + +VAL. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.] + +TRAP. And, in short, I can be put off no longer. + +VAL. I was much obliged to you for your supply. It did me signal +service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, +drink to me, my friend Trapland's health. An honester man lives +not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress: though I +say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass. + +SCAN. What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a +wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest +fellow. + +TRAP. Fie, Mr Scandal, you never knew - + +SCAN. What don't I know? I know the buxom black widow in the +Poultry. 800 pounds a year jointure, and 20,000 pounds in money. +Aha! old Trap. + +VAL. Say you so, i'faith? Come, we'll remember the widow. I know +whereabouts you are; come, to the widow - + +TRAP. No more, indeed. + +VAL. What, the widow's health; give it him--off with it. [They +drink.] A lovely girl, i'faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting +ruby lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million, ha? + +TRAP. No, no, there's no such thing; we'd better mind our business. +You're a wag. + +VAL. No, faith, we'll mind the widow's business: fill again. +Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, and a jut with her +bum would stir an anchoret: and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man +could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and +play at bo-peep under her petticoats, ah! Mr Trapland? + +TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You're a wag,--and here's to the +widow. [Drinks.] + +SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he'll relapse into a +dun. + + +SCENE VI. + + +[To them] OFFICER. + +OFF. By your leave, gentlemen: Mr Trapland, if we must do our +office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pall +Mall and Covent Garden; and if we don't make haste the chairmen will +be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses, and then our labour's +lost. + +TRAP. Udso that's true: Mr Valentine, I love mirth, but business +must be done. Are you ready to - + +JERE. Sir, your father's steward says he comes to make proposals +concerning your debts. + +VAL. Bid him come in: Mr Trapland, send away your officer; you +shall have an answer presently. + +TRAP. Mr Snap, stay within call. + + +SCENE VII. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY, STEWARD who whispers +VALENTINE. + +SCAN. Here's a dog now, a traitor in his wine: sirrah, refund the +sack.--Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I'll rip up his +stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience. + +TRAP. Mr Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your sack; but +you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it. + +SCAN. And how do you expect to have your money again when a +gentleman has spent it? + +VAL. You need say no more, I understand the conditions; they are +very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to 'em. Take +Mr Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing. Mr Trapland, +you know this man: he shall satisfy you. + +TRAP. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my necessity - + +VAL. No apology, good Mr Scrivener, you shall be paid. + +TRAP. I hope you forgive me; my business requires - + + +SCENE VIII. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL. + +SCAN. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution. + +VAL. But I have got a reprieve. + +SCAN. I am surprised; what, does your father relent? + +VAL. No; he has sent me the hardest conditions in the world. You +have heard of a booby brother of mine that was sent to sea three +years ago? This brother, my father hears, is landed; whereupon he +very affectionately sends me word; if I will make a deed of +conveyance of my right to his estate, after his death, to my younger +brother, he will immediately furnish me with four thousand pounds to +pay my debts and make my fortune. This was once proposed before, +and I refused it; but the present impatience of my creditors for +their money, and my own impatience of confinement, and absence from +Angelica, force me to consent. + +SCAN. A very desperate demonstration of your love to Angelica; and +I think she has never given you any assurance of hers. + +VAL. You know her temper; she never gave me any great reason either +for hope or despair. + +SCAN. Women of her airy temper, as they seldom think before they +act, so they rarely give us any light to guess at what they mean. +But you have little reason to believe that a woman of this age, who +has had an indifference for you in your prosperity, will fall in +love with your ill-fortune; besides, Angelica has a great fortune of +her own; and great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or +a fool. + + +SCENE IX. + + +[To them] JEREMY. + +JERE. More misfortunes, sir. + +VAL. What, another dun? + +JERE. No, sir, but Mr Tattle is come to wait upon you. + +VAL. Well, I can't help it, you must bring him up; he knows I don't +go abroad. + + +SCENE X. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL. + +SCAN. Pox on him, I'll be gone. + +VAL. No, prithee stay: Tattle and you should never be asunder; you +are light and shadow, and show one another; he is perfectly thy +reverse both in humour and understanding; and as you set up for +defamation, he is a mender of reputations. + +SCAN. A mender of reputations! Ay, just as he is a keeper of +secrets, another virtue that he sets up for in the same manner. For +the rogue will speak aloud in the posture of a whisper, and deny a +woman's name while he gives you the marks of her person. He will +forswear receiving a letter from her, and at the same time show you +her hand in the superscription: and yet perhaps he has +counterfeited the hand too, and sworn to a truth; but he hopes not +to be believed, and refuses the reputation of a lady's favour, as a +Doctor says no to a Bishopric only that it may be granted him. In +short, he is public professor of secrecy, and makes proclamation +that he holds private intelligence.--He's here. + + +SCENE XI. + + +[To them] TATTLE. + +TATT. Valentine, good morrow; Scandal, I am yours: --that is, when +you speak well of me. + +SCAN. That is, when I am yours; for while I am my own, or anybody's +else, that will never happen. + +TATT. How inhuman! + +VAL. Why Tattle, you need not be much concerned at anything that he +says: for to converse with Scandal, is to play at losing loadum; +you must lose a good name to him before you can win it for yourself. + +TATT. But how barbarous that is, and how unfortunate for him, that +the world shall think the better of any person for his calumniation! +I thank heaven, it has always been a part of my character to handle +the reputations of others very tenderly indeed. + +SCAN. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to deal with are to +be handled tenderly indeed. + +TATT. Nay, but why rotten? Why should you say rotten, when you +know not the persons of whom you speak? How cruel that is! + +SCAN. Not know 'em? Why, thou never had'st to do with anybody that +did not stink to all the town. + +TATT. Ha, ha, ha; nay, now you make a jest of it indeed. For there +is nothing more known than that nobody knows anything of that nature +of me. As I hope to be saved, Valentine, I never exposed a woman, +since I knew what woman was. + +VAL. And yet you have conversed with several. + +TATT. To be free with you, I have. I don't care if I own that. +Nay more (I'm going to say a bold word now) I never could meddle +with a woman that had to do with anybody else. + +SCAN. How? + +VAL. Nay faith, I'm apt to believe him. Except her husband, +Tattle. + +TATT. Oh, that - + +SCAN. What think you of that noble commoner, Mrs Drab? + +TATT. Pooh, I know Madam Drab has made her brags in three or four +places, that I said this and that, and writ to her, and did I know +not what--but, upon my reputation, she did me wrong--well, well, +that was malice--but I know the bottom of it. She was bribed to +that by one we all know--a man too. Only to bring me into disgrace +with a certain woman of quality - + +SCAN. Whom we all know. + +TATT. No matter for that. Yes, yes, everybody knows. No doubt +on't, everybody knows my secrets. But I soon satisfied the lady of +my innocence; for I told her: Madam, says I, there are some persons +who make it their business to tell stories, and say this and that of +one and t'other, and everything in the world; and, says I, if your +grace - + +SCAN. Grace! + +TATT. O Lord, what have I said? My unlucky tongue! + +VAL. Ha, ha, ha. + +SCAN. Why, Tattle, thou hast more impudence than one can in reason +expect: I shall have an esteem for thee, well, and, ha, ha, ha, +well, go on, and what did you say to her grace? + +VAL. I confess this is something extraordinary. + +TATT. Not a word, as I hope to be saved; an errant lapsus linguae. +Come, let's talk of something else. + +VAL. Well, but how did you acquit yourself? + +TATT. Pooh, pooh, nothing at all; I only rallied with you--a woman +of ordinary rank was a little jealous of me, and I told her +something or other, faith I know not what.--Come, let's talk of +something else. [Hums a song.] + +SCAN. Hang him, let him alone, he has a mind we should enquire. + +TATT. Valentine, I supped last night with your mistress, and her +uncle, old Foresight: I think your father lies at Foresight's. + +VAL. Yes. + +TATT. Upon my soul, Angelica's a fine woman. And so is Mrs +Foresight, and her sister, Mrs Frail. + +SCAN. Yes, Mrs Frail is a very fine woman, we all know her. + +TATT. Oh, that is not fair. + +SCAN. What? + +TATT. To tell. + +SCAN. To tell what? Why, what do you know of Mrs Frail? + +TATT. Who, I? Upon honour I don't know whether she be man or +woman, but by the smoothness of her chin and roundness of her hips. + +SCAN. No? + +TATT. No. + +SCAN. She says otherwise. + +TATT. Impossible! + +SCAN. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else. + +TATT. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a woman only +obliges a man to secrecy that she may have the pleasure of telling +herself. + +SCAN. No doubt on't. Well, but has she done you wrong, or no? You +have had her? Ha? + +TATT. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I have more +manners than to contradict what a lady has declared. + +SCAN. Well, you own it? + +TATT. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I can't deny't if she +taxes me with it. + +SCAN. She'll be here by and by, she sees Valentine every morning. + +TATT. How? + +VAL. She does me the favour, I mean, of a visit sometimes. I did +not think she had granted more to anybody. + +SCAN. Nor I, faith. But Tattle does not use to bely a lady; it is +contrary to his character. How one may be deceived in a woman, +Valentine? + +TATT. Nay, what do you mean, gentlemen? + +SCAN. I'm resolved I'll ask her. + +TATT. O barbarous! Why did you not tell me? + +SCAN. No; you told us. + +TATT. And bid me ask Valentine? + +VAL. What did I say? I hope you won't bring me to confess an +answer when you never asked me the question? + +TATT. But, gentlemen, this is the most inhuman proceeding - + +VAL. Nay, if you have known Scandal thus long, and cannot avoid +such a palpable decoy as this was, the ladies have a fine time whose +reputations are in your keeping. + + +SCENE XII. + + +[To them] JEREMY. + +JERE. Sir, Mrs Frail has sent to know if you are stirring. + +VAL. Show her up when she comes. + + +SCENE XIII. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TATTLE. + +TATT. I'll be gone. + +VAL. You'll meet her. + +TATT. Is there not a back way? + +VAL. If there were, you have more discretion than to give Scandal +such an advantage. Why, your running away will prove all that he +can tell her. + +TATT. Scandal, you will not be so ungenerous. Oh, I shall lose my +reputation of secrecy for ever. I shall never be received but upon +public days, and my visits will never be admitted beyond a drawing- +room. I shall never see a bed-chamber again, never be locked in a +closet, nor run behind a screen, or under a table: never be +distinguished among the waiting-women by the name of trusty Mr +Tattle more. You will not be so cruel? + +VAL. Scandal, have pity on him; he'll yield to any conditions. + +TATT. Any, any terms. + +SCAN. Come, then, sacrifice half a dozen women of good reputation +to me presently. Come, where are you familiar? And see that they +are women of quality, too--the first quality. + +TATT. 'Tis very hard. Won't a baronet's lady pass? + +SCAN. No, nothing under a right honourable. + +TATT. Oh, inhuman! You don't expect their names? + +SCAN. No, their titles shall serve. + +TATT. Alas, that's the same thing. Pray spare me their titles. +I'll describe their persons. + +SCAN. Well, begin then; but take notice, if you are so ill a +painter that I cannot know the person by your picture of her, you +must be condemned, like other bad painters, to write the name at the +bottom. + +TATT. Well, first then - + + +SCENE XIV. + + +[To them] MRS FRAIL. + +TATT. Oh, unfortunate! She's come already; will you have patience +till another time? I'll double the number. + +SCAN. Well, on that condition. Take heed you don't fail me. + +MRS FRAIL. I shall get a fine reputation by coming to see fellows +in a morning. Scandal, you devil, are you here too? Oh, Mr Tattle, +everything is safe with you, we know. + +SCAN. Tattle - + +TATT. Mum. O madam, you do me too much honour. + +VAL. Well, Lady Galloper, how does Angelica? + +MRS FRAIL. Angelica? Manners! + +VAL. What, you will allow an absent lover - + +MRS FRAIL. No, I'll allow a lover present with his mistress to be +particular; but otherwise, I think his passion ought to give place +to his manners. + +VAL. But what if he has more passion than manners? + +MRS FRAIL. Then let him marry and reform. + +VAL. Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his passion, but it +very rarely mends a man's manners. + +MRS FRAIL. You are the most mistaken in the world; there is no +creature perfectly civil but a husband. For in a little time he +grows only rude to his wife, and that is the highest good breeding, +for it begets his civility to other people. Well, I'll tell you +news; but I suppose you hear your brother Benjamin is landed? And +my brother Foresight's daughter is come out of the country: I +assure you, there's a match talked of by the old people. Well, if +he be but as great a sea-beast as she is a land-monster, we shall +have a most amphibious breed. The progeny will be all otters. He +has been bred at sea, and she has never been out of the country. + +VAL. Pox take 'em, their conjunction bodes me no good, I'm sure. + +MRS FRAIL. Now you talk of conjunction, my brother Foresight has +cast both their nativities, and prognosticates an admiral and an +eminent justice of the peace to be the issue male of their two +bodies; 'tis the most superstitious old fool! He would have +persuaded me that this was an unlucky day, and would not let me come +abroad. But I invented a dream, and sent him to Artimedorus for +interpretation, and so stole out to see you. Well, and what will +you give me now? Come, I must have something. + +VAL. Step into the next room, and I'll give you something. + +SCAN. Ay, we'll all give you something. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, what will you all give me? + +VAL. Mine's a secret. + +MRS FRAIL. I thought you would give me something that would be a +trouble to you to keep. + +VAL. And Scandal shall give you a good name. + +MRS FRAIL. That's more than he has for himself. And what will you +give me, Mr Tattle? + +TATT. I? My soul, madam. + +MRS FRAIL. Pooh! No, I thank you, I have enough to do to take care +of my own. Well, but I'll come and see you one of these mornings. +I hear you have a great many pictures. + +TATT. I have a pretty good collection, at your service, some +originals. + +SCAN. Hang him, he has nothing but the Seasons and the Twelve +Caesars--paltry copies--and the Five Senses, as ill-represented as +they are in himself, and he himself is the only original you will +see there. + +MRS FRAIL. Ay, but I hear he has a closet of beauties. + +SCAN. Yes; all that have done him favours, if you will believe him. + +MRS FRAIL. Ay, let me see those, Mr Tattle. + +TATT. Oh, madam, those are sacred to love and contemplation. No +man but the painter and myself was ever blest with the sight. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, but a woman - + +TATT. Nor woman, till she consented to have her picture there too-- +for then she's obliged to keep the secret. + +SCAN. No, no; come to me if you'd see pictures. + +MRS FRAIL. You? + +SCAN. Yes, faith; I can shew you your own picture, and most of your +acquaintance to the life, and as like as at Kneller's. + +MRS FRAIL. O lying creature! Valentine, does not he lie? I can't +believe a word he says. + +VAL. No indeed, he speaks truth now. For as Tattle has pictures of +all that have granted him favours, he has the pictures of all that +have refused him: if satires, descriptions, characters, and +lampoons are pictures. + +SCAN. Yes; mine are most in black and white. And yet there are +some set out in their true colours, both men and women. I can shew +you pride, folly, affectation, wantonness, inconstancy, +covetousness, dissimulation, malice and ignorance, all in one piece. +Then I can shew you lying, foppery, vanity, cowardice, bragging, +lechery, impotence, and ugliness in another piece; and yet one of +these is a celebrated beauty, and t'other a professed beau. I have +paintings too, some pleasant enough. + +MRS FRAIL. Come, let's hear 'em. + +SCAN. Why, I have a beau in a bagnio, cupping for a complexion, and +sweating for a shape. + +MRS FRAIL. So. + +SCAN. Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with a hackney +coachman. + +MRS FRAIL. O devil! Well, but that story is not true. + +SCAN. I have some hieroglyphics too; I have a lawyer with a hundred +hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine with two faces, and one +head; and I have a soldier with his brains in his belly, and his +heart where his head should be. + +MRS FRAIL. And no head? + +SCAN. No head. + +MRS FRAIL. Pooh, this is all invention. Have you never a poet? + +SCAN. Yes, I have a poet weighing words, and selling praise for +praise, and a critic picking his pocket. I have another large piece +too, representing a school, where there are huge proportioned +critics, with long wigs, laced coats, Steinkirk cravats, and +terrible faces; with cat-calls in their hands, and horn-books about +their necks. I have many more of this kind, very well painted, as +you shall see. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, I'll come, if it be but to disprove you. + + +SCENE XIV. + + +[To them] JEREMY. + +JERE. Sir, here's the steward again from your father. + +VAL. I'll come to him--will you give me leave? I'll wait on you +again presently, + +MRS FRAIL. No; I'll be gone. Come, who squires me to the Exchange? +I must call my sister Foresight there. + +SCAN. I will: I have a mind to your sister. + +MRS FRAIL. Civil! + +TATT. I will: because I have a tendre for your ladyship. + +MRS FRAIL. That's somewhat the better reason, to my opinion. + +SCAN. Well, if Tattle entertains you, I have the better opportunity +to engage your sister. + +VAL. Tell Angelica I am about making hard conditions to come +abroad, and be at liberty to see her. + +SCAN. I'll give an account of you and your proceedings. If +indiscretion be a sign of love, you are the most a lover of anybody +that I know: you fancy that parting with your estate will help you +to your mistress. In my mind he is a thoughtless adventurer + + +Who hopes to purchase wealth by selling land; +Or win a mistress with a losing hand. + + + +ACT II.--SCENE I. + + + +A room in FORESIGHT's house. + +FORESIGHT and SERVANT. + +FORE. Hey day! What, are all the women of my family abroad? Is +not my wife come home? Nor my sister, nor my daughter? + +SERV. No, sir. + +FORE. Mercy on us, what can be the meaning of it? Sure the moon is +in all her fortitudes. Is my niece Angelica at home? + +SERV. Yes, sir. + +FORE. I believe you lie, sir. + +SERV. Sir? + +FORE. I say you lie, sir. It is impossible that anything should be +as I would have it; for I was born, sir, when the crab was +ascending, and all my affairs go backward. + +SERV. I can't tell indeed, sir. + +FORE. No, I know you can't, sir: but I can tell, and foretell, +sir. + + +SCENE II. + + +[To them] NURSE. + +FORE. Nurse, where's your young mistress? + +NURSE. Wee'st heart, I know not, they're none of 'em come home +yet. Poor child, I warrant she's fond o' seeing the town. Marry, +pray heaven they ha' given her any dinner. Good lack-a-day, ha, ha, +ha, Oh, strange! I'll vow and swear now, ha, ha, ha, marry, and did +you ever see the like! + +FORE. Why, how now, what's the matter? + +NURSE. Pray heaven send your worship good luck, marry, and amen +with all my heart, for you have put on one stocking with the wrong +side outward. + +FORE. Ha, how? Faith and troth I'm glad of it; and so I have: +that may be good luck in troth, in troth it may, very good luck. +Nay, I have had some omens: I got out of bed backwards too this +morning, without premeditation; pretty good that too; but then I +stumbled coming down stairs, and met a weasel; bad omens those: +some bad, some good, our lives are chequered. Mirth and sorrow, +want and plenty, night and day, make up our time. But in troth I am +pleased at my stocking; very well pleased at my stocking. Oh, +here's my niece! Sirrah, go tell Sir Sampson Legend I'll wait on +him if he's at leisure: --'tis now three o'clock, a very good hour +for business: Mercury governs this hour. + + +SCENE III. + + +ANGELICA, FORESIGHT, NURSE. + +ANG. Is it not a good hour for pleasure too, uncle? Pray lend me +your coach; mine's out of order. + +FORE. What, would you be gadding too? Sure, all females are mad +to-day. It is of evil portent, and bodes mischief to the master of +a family. I remember an old prophecy written by Messahalah the +Arabian, and thus translated by a reverend Buckinghamshire bard:- + + +'When housewives all the house forsake, +And leave goodman to brew and bake, +Withouten guile, then be it said, +That house doth stand upon its head; +And when the head is set in grond, +Ne marl, if it be fruitful fond.' + + +Fruitful, the head fruitful, that bodes horns; the fruit of the head +is horns. Dear niece, stay at home--for by the head of the house is +meant the husband; the prophecy needs no explanation. + +ANG. Well, but I can neither make you a cuckold, uncle, by going +abroad, nor secure you from being one by staying at home. + +FORE. Yes, yes; while there's one woman left, the prophecy is not +in full force. + +ANG. But my inclinations are in force; I have a mind to go abroad, +and if you won't lend me your coach, I'll take a hackney or a chair, +and leave you to erect a scheme, and find who's in conjunction with +your wife. Why don't you keep her at home, if you're jealous of her +when she's abroad? You know my aunt is a little retrograde (as you +call it) in her nature. Uncle, I'm afraid you are not lord of the +ascendant, ha, ha, ha! + +FORE. Well, Jill-flirt, you are very pert, and always ridiculing +that celestial science. + +ANG. Nay, uncle, don't be angry--if you are, I'll reap up all your +false prophecies, ridiculous dreams, and idle divinations. I'll +swear you are a nuisance to the neighbourhood. What a bustle did +you keep against the last invisible eclipse, laying in provision as +'twere for a siege. What a world of fire and candle, matches and +tinder-boxes did you purchase! One would have thought we were ever +after to live under ground, or at least making a voyage to +Greenland, to inhabit there all the dark season. + +FORE. Why, you malapert slut - + +ANG. Will you lend me your coach, or I'll go on--nay, I'll declare +how you prophesied popery was coming only because the butler had +mislaid some of the apostle spoons, and thought they were lost. +Away went religion and spoon-meat together. Indeed, uncle, I'll +indite you for a wizard. + +FORE. How, hussy! Was there ever such a provoking minx? + +NURSE. O merciful father, how she talks! + +ANG. Yes, I can make oath of your unlawful midnight practices, you +and the old nurse there - + +NURSE. Marry, heaven defend! I at midnight practices? O Lord, +what's here to do? I in unlawful doings with my master's worship-- +why, did you ever hear the like now? Sir, did ever I do anything of +your midnight concerns but warm your bed, and tuck you up, and set +the candle and your tobacco-box and your urinal by you, and now and +then rub the soles of your feet? O Lord, I! + +ANG. Yes, I saw you together through the key-hole of the closet one +night, like Saul and the witch of Endor, turning the sieve and +shears, and pricking your thumbs, to write poor innocent servants' +names in blood, about a little nutmeg grater which she had forgot in +the caudle-cup. Nay, I know something worse, if I would speak of +it. + +FORE. I defy you, hussy; but I'll remember this, I'll be revenged +on you, cockatrice. I'll hamper you. You have your fortune in your +own hands, but I'll find a way to make your lover, your prodigal +spendthrift gallant, Valentine, pay for all, I will. + +ANG. Will you? I care not, but all shall out then. Look to it, +nurse: I can bring witness that you have a great unnatural teat +under your left arm, and he another; and that you suckle a young +devil in the shape of a tabby-cat, by turns, I can. + +NURSE. A teat, a teat--I an unnatural teat! Oh, the false, +slanderous thing; feel, feel here, if I have anything but like +another Christian. [Crying.] + +FORE. I will have patience, since it is the will of the stars I +should be thus tormented. This is the effect of the malicious +conjunctions and oppositions in the third house of my nativity; +there the curse of kindred was foretold. But I will have my doors +locked up;--I'll punish you: not a man shall enter my house. + +ANG. Do, uncle, lock 'em up quickly before my aunt come home. +You'll have a letter for alimony to-morrow morning. But let me be +gone first, and then let no mankind come near the house, but +converse with spirits and the celestial signs, the bull and the ram +and the goat. Bless me! There are a great many horned beasts among +the twelve signs, uncle. But cuckolds go to heaven. + +FORE. But there's but one virgin among the twelve signs, spitfire, +but one virgin. + +ANG. Nor there had not been that one, if she had had to do with +anything but astrologers, uncle. That makes my aunt go abroad. + +FORE. How, how? Is that the reason? Come, you know something; +tell me and I'll forgive you. Do, good niece. Come, you shall have +my coach and horses--faith and troth you shall. Does my wife +complain? Come, I know women tell one another. She is young and +sanguine, has a wanton hazel eye, and was born under Gemini, which +may incline her to society. She has a mole upon her lip, with a +moist palm, and an open liberality on the mount of Venus. + +ANG. Ha, ha, ha! + +FORE. Do you laugh? Well, gentlewoman, I'll--but come, be a good +girl, don't perplex your poor uncle, tell me--won't you speak? Odd, +I'll - + + +SCENE IV. + + +[To them] SERVANT. + +SERV. Sir Sampson is coming down to wait upon you. + +ANG. Good-bye, uncle--call me a chair. I'll find out my aunt, and +tell her she must not come home. + +FORE. I'm so perplexed and vexed, I'm not fit to receive him; I +shall scarce recover myself before the hour be past. Go nurse, tell +Sir Sampson I'm ready to wait on him. + +NURSE. Yes, sir, + +FORE. Well--why, if I was born to be a cuckold, there's no more to +be said--he's here already. + + +SCENE V. + + +FORESIGHT, and SIR SAMPSON LEGEND with a paper. + +SIR SAMP. Nor no more to be done, old boy; that's plain--here 'tis, +I have it in my hand, old Ptolomey, I'll make the ungracious +prodigal know who begat him; I will, old Nostrodamus. What, I +warrant my son thought nothing belonged to a father but forgiveness +and affection; no authority, no correction, no arbitrary power; +nothing to be done, but for him to offend and me to pardon. I +warrant you, if he danced till doomsday he thought I was to pay the +piper. Well, but here it is under black and white, signatum, +sigillatum, and deliberatum; that as soon as my son Benjamin is +arrived, he's to make over to him his right of inheritance. Where's +my daughter that is to be?--Hah! old Merlin! body o' me, I'm so glad +I'm revenged on this undutiful rogue. + +FORE. Odso, let me see; let me see the paper. Ay, faith and troth, +here 'tis, if it will but hold. I wish things were done, and the +conveyance made. When was this signed, what hour? Odso, you should +have consulted me for the time. Well, but we'll make haste - + +SIR SAMP. Haste, ay, ay; haste enough. My son Ben will be in town +to-night. I have ordered my lawyer to draw up writings of +settlement and jointure--all shall be done to-night. No matter for +the time; prithee, brother Foresight, leave superstition. Pox o' +the time; there's no time but the time present, there's no more to +be said of what's past, and all that is to come will happen. If the +sun shine by day, and the stars by night, why, we shall know one +another's faces without the help of a candle, and that's all the +stars are good for. + +FORE. How, how? Sir Sampson, that all? Give me leave to +contradict you, and tell you you are ignorant. + +SIR SAMP. I tell you I am wise; and sapiens dominabitur astris; +there's Latin for you to prove it, and an argument to confound your +Ephemeris.--Ignorant! I tell you, I have travelled old Fircu, and +know the globe. I have seen the antipodes, where the sun rises at +midnight, and sets at noon-day. + +FORE. But I tell you, I have travelled, and travelled in the +celestial spheres, know the signs and the planets, and their houses. +Can judge of motions direct and retrograde, of sextiles, quadrates, +trines and oppositions, fiery-trigons and aquatical-trigons. Know +whether life shall be long or short, happy or unhappy, whether +diseases are curable or incurable. If journeys shall be prosperous, +undertakings successful, or goods stolen recovered; I know - + +SIR SAMP. I know the length of the Emperor of China's foot; have +kissed the Great Mogul's slippers, and rid a-hunting upon an +elephant with a Cham of Tartary. Body o' me, I have made a cuckold +of a king, and the present majesty of Bantam is the issue of these +loins. + +FORE. I know when travellers lie or speak truth, when they don't +know it themselves. + +SIR SAMP. I have known an astrologer made a cuckold in the +twinkling of a star; and seen a conjurer that could not keep the +devil out of his wife's circle. + +FORE. What, does he twit me with my wife too? I must be better +informed of this. [Aside.] Do you mean my wife, Sir Sampson? +Though you made a cuckold of the king of Bantam, yet by the body of +the sun - + +SIR SAMP. By the horns of the moon, you would say, brother +Capricorn. + +FORE. Capricorn in your teeth, thou modern Mandeville; Ferdinand +Mendez Pinto was but a type of thee, thou liar of the first +magnitude. Take back your paper of inheritance; send your son to +sea again. I'll wed my daughter to an Egyptian mummy, e'er she +shall incorporate with a contemner of sciences, and a defamer of +virtue. + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, I have gone too far; I must not provoke +honest Albumazar: --an Egyptian mummy is an illustrious creature, my +trusty hieroglyphic; and may have significations of futurity about +him; odsbud, I would my son were an Egyptian mummy for thy sake. +What, thou art not angry for a jest, my good Haly? I reverence the +sun, moon and stars with all my heart. What, I'll make thee a +present of a mummy: now I think on't, body o' me, I have a shoulder +of an Egyptian king that I purloined from one of the pyramids, +powdered with hieroglyphics, thou shalt have it brought home to thy +house, and make an entertainment for all the philomaths, and +students in physic and astrology in and about London. + +FORE. But what do you know of my wife, Sir Sampson? + +SIR SAMP. Thy wife is a constellation of virtues; she's the moon, +and thou art the man in the moon. Nay, she is more illustrious than +the moon; for she has her chastity without her inconstancy: 'sbud I +was but in jest. + + +SCENE VI. + + +[To them] JEREMY. + +SIR SAMP. How now, who sent for you? Ha! What would you have? + +FORE. Nay, if you were but in jest--who's that fellow? I don't +like his physiognomy. + +SIR SAMP. My son, sir; what son, sir? My son Benjamin, hoh? + +JERE. No, sir, Mr Valentine, my master; 'tis the first time he has +been abroad since his confinement, and he comes to pay his duty to +you. + +SIR SAMP. Well, sir. + + +SCENE VII. + + +FORESIGHT, SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, JEREMY. + +JERE. He is here, sir. + +VAL. Your blessing, sir. + +SIR SAMP. You've had it already, sir; I think I sent it you to-day +in a bill of four thousand pound: a great deal of money, brother +Foresight. + +FORE. Ay, indeed, Sir Sampson, a great deal of money for a young +man; I wonder what he can do with it! + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, so do I. Hark ye, Valentine, if there be too +much, refund the superfluity; dost hear, boy? + +VAL. Superfluity, sir? It will scarce pay my debts. I hope you +will have more indulgence than to oblige me to those hard conditions +which my necessity signed to. + +SIR SAMP. Sir, how, I beseech you, what were you pleased to +intimate, concerning indulgence? + +VAL. Why, sir, that you would not go to the extremity of the +conditions, but release me at least from some part. + +SIR SAMP. Oh, sir, I understand you--that's all, ha? + +VAL. Yes, sir, all that I presume to ask. But what you, out of +fatherly fondness, will be pleased to add, shall be doubly welcome. + +SIR SAMP. No doubt of it, sweet sir; but your filial piety, and my +fatherly fondness would fit like two tallies. Here's a rogue, +brother Foresight, makes a bargain under hand and seal in the +morning, and would be released from it in the afternoon; here's a +rogue, dog, here's conscience and honesty; this is your wit now, +this is the morality of your wits! You are a wit, and have been a +beau, and may be a--why sirrah, is it not here under hand and seal-- +can you deny it? + +VAL. Sir, I don't deny it. + +SIR SAMP. Sirrah, you'll be hanged; I shall live to see you go up +Holborn Hill. Has he not a rogue's face? Speak brother, you +understand physiognomy, a hanging look to me--of all my boys the +most unlike me; he has a damned Tyburn face, without the benefit o' +the clergy. + +FORE. Hum--truly I don't care to discourage a young man,--he has a +violent death in his face; but I hope no danger of hanging. + +VAL. Sir, is this usage for your son?--For that old weather-headed +fool, I know how to laugh at him; but you, sir - + +SIR SAMP. You, sir; and you, sir: why, who are you, sir? + +VAL. Your son, sir. + +SIR SAMP. That's more than I know, sir, and I believe not. + +VAL. Faith, I hope not. + +SIR SAMP. What, would you have your mother a whore? Did you ever +hear the like? Did you ever hear the like? Body o' me - + +VAL. I would have an excuse for your barbarity and unnatural usage. + +SIR SAMP. Excuse! Impudence! Why, sirrah, mayn't I do what I +please? Are not you my slave? Did not I beget you? And might not +I have chosen whether I would have begot you or no? 'Oons, who are +you? Whence came you? What brought you into the world? How came +you here, sir? Here, to stand here, upon those two legs, and look +erect with that audacious face, ha? Answer me that! Did you come a +volunteer into the world? Or did I, with the lawful authority of a +parent, press you to the service? + +VAL. I know no more why I came than you do why you called me. But +here I am, and if you don't mean to provide for me, I desire you +would leave me as you found me. + +SIR SAMP. With all my heart: come, uncase, strip, and go naked out +of the world as you came into 't. + +VAL. My clothes are soon put off. But you must also divest me of +reason, thought, passions, inclinations, affections, appetites, +senses, and the huge train of attendants that you begot along with +me. + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, what a manyheaded monster have I propagated! + +VAL. I am of myself, a plain, easy, simple creature, and to be kept +at small expense; but the retinue that you gave me are craving and +invincible; they are so many devils that you have raised, and will +have employment. + +SIR SAMP. 'Oons, what had I to do to get children,--can't a private +man be born without all these followers? Why, nothing under an +emperor should be born with appetites. Why, at this rate, a fellow +that has but a groat in his pocket may have a stomach capable of a +ten shilling ordinary. + +JERE. Nay, that's as clear as the sun; I'll make oath of it before +any justice in Middlesex. + +SIR SAMP. Here's a cormorant too. 'S'heart this fellow was not +born with you? I did not beget him, did I? + +JERE. By the provision that's made for me, you might have begot me +too. Nay, and to tell your worship another truth, I believe you +did, for I find I was born with those same whoreson appetites too, +that my master speaks of. + +SIR SAMP. Why, look you there, now. I'll maintain it, that by the +rule of right reason, this fellow ought to have been born without a +palate. 'S'heart, what should he do with a distinguishing taste? I +warrant now he'd rather eat a pheasant, than a piece of poor John; +and smell, now, why I warrant he can smell, and loves perfumes above +a stink. Why there's it; and music, don't you love music, +scoundrel? + +JERE. Yes; I have a reasonable good ear, sir, as to jigs and +country dances, and the like; I don't much matter your solos or +sonatas, they give me the spleen. + +SIR SAMP. The spleen, ha, ha, ha; a pox confound you--solos or +sonatas? 'Oons, whose son are you? How were you engendered, +muckworm? + +JERE. I am by my father, the son of a chair-man; my mother sold +oysters in winter, and cucumbers in summer; and I came upstairs into +the world; for I was born in a cellar. + +FORE. By your looks, you should go upstairs out of the world too, +friend. + +SIR SAMP. And if this rogue were anatomized now, and dissected, he +has his vessels of digestion and concoction, and so forth, large +enough for the inside of a cardinal, this son of a cucumber.--These +things are unaccountable and unreasonable. Body o' me, why was not +I a bear, that my cubs might have lived upon sucking their paws? +Nature has been provident only to bears and spiders; the one has its +nutriment in his own hands; and t'other spins his habitation out of +his own entrails. + +VAL. Fortune was provident enough to supply all the necessities of +my nature, if I had my right of inheritance. + +SIR SAMP. Again! 'Oons, han't you four thousand pounds? If I had +it again, I would not give thee a groat.--What, would'st thou have +me turn pelican, and feed thee out of my own vitals? S'heart, live +by your wits: you were always fond of the wits, now let's see, if +you have wit enough to keep yourself. Your brother will be in town +to-night or to-morrow morning, and then look you perform covenants, +and so your friend and servant: --come, brother Foresight. + + +SCENE VIII. + + +VALENTINE, JEREMY. + +JERE. I told you what your visit would come to. + +VAL. 'Tis as much as I expected. I did not come to see him, I came +to see Angelica: but since she was gone abroad, it was easily +turned another way, and at least looked well on my side. What's +here? Mrs Foresight and Mrs Frail, they are earnest. I'll avoid +'em. Come this way, and go and enquire when Angelica will return. + + +SCENE IX. + + +MRS FORESIGHT and MRS FRAIL. + +MRS FRAIL. What have you to do to watch me? 'S'life I'll do what I +please. + +MRS FORE. You will? + +MRS FRAIL. Yes, marry will I. A great piece of business to go to +Covent Garden Square in a hackney coach, and take a turn with one's +friend. + +MRS FORE. Nay, two or three turns, I'll take my oath. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, what if I took twenty--I warrant if you had been +there, it had been only innocent recreation. Lord, where's the +comfort of this life if we can't have the happiness of conversing +where we like? + +MRS FORE. But can't you converse at home? I own it, I think +there's no happiness like conversing with an agreeable man; I don't +quarrel at that, nor I don't think but your conversation was very +innocent; but the place is public, and to be seen with a man in a +hackney coach is scandalous. What if anybody else should have seen +you alight, as I did? How can anybody be happy while they're in +perpetual fear of being seen and censured? Besides, it would not +only reflect upon you, sister, but me. + +MRS FRAIL. Pooh, here's a clutter: why should it reflect upon you? +I don't doubt but you have thought yourself happy in a hackney coach +before now. If I had gone to Knight's Bridge, or to Chelsea, or to +Spring Garden, or Barn Elms with a man alone, something might have +been said. + +MRS FORE. Why, was I ever in any of those places? What do you +mean, sister? + +MRS FRAIL. Was I? What do you mean? + +MRS FORE. You have been at a worse place. + +MRS FRAIL. I at a worse place, and with a man! + +MRS FORE. I suppose you would not go alone to the World's End. + +MRS FRAIL. The World's End! What, do you mean to banter me? + +MRS FORE. Poor innocent! You don't know that there's a place +called the World's End? I'll swear you can keep your countenance +purely: you'd make an admirable player. + +MRS FRAIL. I'll swear you have a great deal of confidence, and in +my mind too much for the stage. + +MRS FORE. Very well, that will appear who has most; you never were +at the World's End? + +MRS FRAIL. No. + +MRS FORE. You deny it positively to my face? + +MRS FRAIL. Your face, what's your face? + +MRS FORE. No matter for that, it's as good a face as yours. + +MRS FRAIL. Not by a dozen years' wearing. But I do deny it +positively to your face, then. + +MRS FORE. I'll allow you now to find fault with my face; for I'll +swear your impudence has put me out of countenance. But look you +here now, where did you lose this gold bodkin? Oh, sister, sister! + +MRS FRAIL. My bodkin! + +MRS FORE. Nay, 'tis yours, look at it. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, if you go to that, where did you find this bodkin? +Oh, sister, sister! Sister every way. + +MRS FORE. Oh, devil on't, that I could not discover her without +betraying myself. [Aside.] + +MRS FRAIL. I have heard gentlemen say, sister, that one should take +great care, when one makes a thrust in fencing, not to lie open +oneself. + +MRS FORE. It's very true, sister. Well, since all's out, and as +you say, since we are both wounded, let us do what is often done in +duels, take care of one another, and grow better friends than +before. + +MRS FRAIL. With all my heart: ours are but slight flesh wounds, +and if we keep 'em from air, not at all dangerous. Well, give me +your hand in token of sisterly secrecy and affection. + +MRS FORE. Here 'tis, with all my heart. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, as an earnest of friendship and confidence, I'll +acquaint you with a design that I have. To tell truth, and speak +openly one to another, I'm afraid the world have observed us more +than we have observed one another. You have a rich husband, and are +provided for. I am at a loss, and have no great stock either of +fortune or reputation, and therefore must look sharply about me. +Sir Sampson has a son that is expected to-night, and by the account +I have heard of his education, can be no conjurer. The estate you +know is to be made over to him. Now if I could wheedle him, sister, +ha? You understand me? + +MRS FORE. I do, and will help you to the utmost of my power. And I +can tell you one thing that falls out luckily enough; my awkward +daughter-in-law, who you know is designed to be his wife, is grown +fond of Mr Tattle; now if we can improve that, and make her have an +aversion for the booby, it may go a great way towards his liking +you. Here they come together; and let us contrive some way or other +to leave 'em together. + + +SCENE X. + + +[To them] TATTLE and MISS PRUE. + +MISS. Mother, mother, mother, look you here! + +MRS FORE. Fie, fie, Miss, how you bawl! Besides, I have told you, +you must not call me mother. + +MISS. What must I call you then, are you not my father's wife? + +MRS FORE. Madam; you must say madam. By my soul, I shall fancy +myself old indeed to have this great girl call me mother. Well, but +Miss, what are you so overjoyed at? + +MISS. Look you here, madam, then, what Mr Tattle has given me. +Look you here, cousin, here's a snuff-box; nay, there's snuff in't. +Here, will you have any? Oh, good! How sweet it is. Mr Tattle is +all over sweet, his peruke is sweet, and his gloves are sweet, and +his handkerchief is sweet, pure sweet, sweeter than roses. Smell +him, mother--madam, I mean. He gave me this ring for a kiss. + +TATT. O fie, Miss, you must not kiss and tell. + +MISS. Yes; I may tell my mother. And he says he'll give me +something to make me smell so. Oh, pray lend me your handkerchief. +Smell, cousin; he says he'll give me something that will make my +smocks smell this way. Is not it pure? It's better than lavender, +mun. I'm resolved I won't let nurse put any more lavender among my +smocks--ha, cousin? + +MRS FRAIL. Fie, Miss; amongst your linen, you must say. You must +never say smock. + +MISS. Why, it is not bawdy, is it, cousin? + +TATT. Oh, madam; you are too severe upon Miss; you must not find +fault with her pretty simplicity: it becomes her strangely. Pretty +Miss, don't let 'em persuade you out of your innocency. + +MRS FORE. Oh, demm you toad. I wish you don't persuade her out of +her innocency. + +TATT. Who, I, madam? O Lord, how can your ladyship have such a +thought? Sure, you don't know me. + +MRS FRAIL. Ah devil, sly devil. He's as close, sister, as a +confessor. He thinks we don't observe him. + +MRS FORE. A cunning cur, how soon he could find out a fresh, +harmless creature; and left us, sister, presently. + +TATT. Upon reputation + +MRS FORE. They're all so, sister, these men. They love to have the +spoiling of a young thing, they are as fond of it, as of being first +in the fashion, or of seeing a new play the first day. I warrant it +would break Mr Tattle's heart to think that anybody else should be +beforehand with him. + +TATT. O Lord, I swear I would not for the world - + +MRS FRAIL. O hang you; who'll believe you? You'd be hanged before +you'd confess. We know you--she's very pretty! Lord, what pure red +and white!--she looks so wholesome; ne'er stir: I don't know, but I +fancy, if I were a man - + +MISS. How you love to jeer one, cousin. + +MRS FORE. Hark'ee, sister, by my soul the girl is spoiled already. +D'ee think she'll ever endure a great lubberly tarpaulin? Gad, I +warrant you she won't let him come near her after Mr Tattle. + +MRS FRAIL. O my soul, I'm afraid not--eh!--filthy creature, that +smells all of pitch and tar. Devil take you, you confounded toad-- +why did you see her before she was married? + +MRS FORE. Nay, why did we let him--my husband will hang us. He'll +think we brought 'em acquainted. + +MRS FRAIL. Come, faith, let us be gone. If my brother Foresight +should find us with them, he'd think so, sure enough. + +MRS FORE. So he would--but then leaving them together is as bad: +and he's such a sly devil, he'll never miss an opportunity. + +MRS FRAIL. I don't care; I won't be seen in't. + +MRS FORE. Well, if you should, Mr Tattle, you'll have a world to +answer for; remember I wash my hands of it. I'm thoroughly +innocent. + + +SCENE XI. + + +TATTLE, MISS PRUE. + +MISS. What makes 'em go away, Mr Tattle? What do they mean, do you +know? + +TATT. Yes my dear; I think I can guess, but hang me if I know the +reason of it. + +MISS. Come, must not we go too? + +TATT. No, no, they don't mean that. + +MISS. No! What then? What shall you and I do together? + +TATT. I must make love to you, pretty Miss; will you let me make +love to you? + +MISS. Yes, if you please. + +TATT. Frank, i'Gad, at least. What a pox does Mrs Foresight mean +by this civility? Is it to make a fool of me? Or does she leave us +together out of good morality, and do as she would be done by?--Gad, +I'll understand it so. [Aside.] + +MISS. Well; and how will you make love to me--come, I long to have +you begin,--must I make love too? You must tell me how. + +TATT. You must let me speak, Miss, you must not speak first; I must +ask you questions, and you must answer. + +MISS. What, is it like the catechism? Come then, ask me. + +TATT. D'ye think you can love me? + +MISS. Yes. + +TATT. Pooh, pox, you must not say yes already; I shan't care a +farthing for you then in a twinkling. + +MISS. What must I say then? + +TATT. Why you must say no, or you believe not, or you can't tell - + +MISS. Why, must I tell a lie then? + +TATT. Yes, if you'd be well bred. All well bred persons lie.-- +Besides, you are a woman, you must never speak what you think: your +words must contradict your thoughts; but your actions may contradict +your words. So when I ask you if you can love me, you must say no, +but you must love me too. If I tell you you are handsome, you must +deny it, and say I flatter you. But you must think yourself more +charming than I speak you: and like me, for the beauty which I say +you have, as much as if I had it myself. If I ask you to kiss me, +you must be angry, but you must not refuse me. If I ask you for +more, you must be more angry,--but more complying; and as soon as +ever I make you say you'll cry out, you must be sure to hold your +tongue. + +MISS. O Lord, I swear this is pure. I like it better than our old- +fashioned country way of speaking one's mind;--and must not you lie +too? + +TATT. Hum--yes--but you must believe I speak truth. + +MISS. O Gemini! Well, I always had a great mind to tell lies; but +they frighted me, and said it was a sin. + +TATT. Well, my pretty creature; will you make me happy by giving me +a kiss? + +MISS. No, indeed; I'm angry at you. [Runs and kisses him.] + +TATT. Hold, hold, that's pretty well, but you should not have given +it me, but have suffered me to have taken it. + +MISS. Well, we'll do it again. + +TATT. With all my heart.--Now then, my little angel. [Kisses her.] + +MISS. Pish. + +TATT. That's right,--again, my charmer. [Kisses again.] + +MISS. O fie, nay, now I can't abide you. + +TATT. Admirable! That was as well as if you had been born and bred +in Covent Garden. And won't you shew me, pretty miss, where your +bed-chamber is? + +MISS. No, indeed won't I; but I'll run there, and hide myself from +you behind the curtains. + +TATT. I'll follow you. + +MISS. Ah, but I'll hold the door with both hands, and be angry;-- +and you shall push me down before you come in. + +TATT. No, I'll come in first, and push you down afterwards. + +MISS. Will you? Then I'll be more angry and more complying. + +TATT. Then I'll make you cry out. + +MISS. Oh, but you shan't, for I'll hold my tongue. + +TATT. O my dear apt scholar! + +MISS. Well, now I'll run and make more haste than you. + +TATT. You shall not fly so fast, as I'll pursue. + + + +ACT III.--SCENE I. + + + +NURSE alone. + +NURSE. Miss, Miss, Miss Prue! Mercy on me, marry and amen. Why, +what's become of the child? Why Miss, Miss Foresight! Sure she has +locked herself up in her chamber, and gone to sleep, or to prayers: +Miss, Miss,--I hear her.--Come to your father, child; open the door. +Open the door, Miss. I hear you cry husht. O Lord, who's there? +[peeps] What's here to do? O the Father! A man with her! Why, +miss, I say; God's my life, here's fine doings towards--O Lord, +we're all undone. O you young harlotry [knocks]. Od's my life, +won't you open the door? I'll come in the back way. + + +SCENE II. + + +TATTLE, MISS PRUE. + +MISS. O Lord, she's coming, and she'll tell my father; what shall I +do now? + +TATT. Pox take her; if she had stayed two minutes longer, I should +have wished for her coming. + +MISS. O dear, what shall I say? Tell me, Mr Tattle, tell me a lie. + +TATT. There's no occasion for a lie; I could never tell a lie to no +purpose. But since we have done nothing, we must say nothing, I +think. I hear her,--I'll leave you together, and come off as you +can. [Thrusts her in, and shuts the door.] + + +SCENE III. + + +TATTLE, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, ANGELICA. + +ANG. You can't accuse me of inconstancy; I never told you that I +loved you. + +VAL. But I can accuse you of uncertainty, for not telling me +whether you did or not. + +ANG. You mistake indifference for uncertainty; I never had concern +enough to ask myself the question. + +SCAN. Nor good-nature enough to answer him that did ask you; I'll +say that for you, madam. + +ANG. What, are you setting up for good-nature? + +SCAN. Only for the affectation of it, as the women do for ill- +nature. + +ANG. Persuade your friend that it is all affectation. + +SCAN. I shall receive no benefit from the opinion; for I know no +effectual difference between continued affectation and reality. + +TATT. [coming up]. Scandal, are you in private discourse? +Anything of secrecy? [Aside to SCANDAL.] + +SCAN. Yes, but I dare trust you; we were talking of Angelica's love +to Valentine. You won't speak of it. + +TATT. No, no, not a syllable. I know that's a secret, for it's +whispered everywhere. + +SCAN. Ha, ha, ha! + +ANG. What is, Mr Tattle? I heard you say something was whispered +everywhere. + +SCAN. Your love of Valentine. + +ANG. How! + +TATT. No, madam, his love for your ladyship. Gad take me, I beg +your pardon,--for I never heard a word of your ladyship's passion +till this instant. + +ANG. My passion! And who told you of my passion, pray sir? + +SCAN. Why, is the devil in you? Did not I tell it you for a +secret? + +TATT. Gadso; but I thought she might have been trusted with her own +affairs. + +SCAN. Is that your discretion? Trust a woman with herself? + +TATT. You say true, I beg your pardon. I'll bring all off. It was +impossible, madam, for me to imagine that a person of your +ladyship's wit and gallantry could have so long received the +passionate addresses of the accomplished Valentine, and yet remain +insensible; therefore you will pardon me, if, from a just weight of +his merit, with your ladyship's good judgment, I formed the balance +of a reciprocal affection. + +VAL. O the devil, what damned costive poet has given thee this +lesson of fustian to get by rote? + +ANG. I dare swear you wrong him, it is his own. And Mr Tattle only +judges of the success of others, from the effects of his own merit. +For certainly Mr Tattle was never denied anything in his life. + +TATT. O Lord! Yes, indeed, madam, several times. + +ANG. I swear I don't think 'tis possible. + +TATT. Yes, I vow and swear I have; Lord, madam, I'm the most +unfortunate man in the world, and the most cruelly used by the +ladies. + +ANG. Nay, now you're ungrateful. + +TATT. No, I hope not, 'tis as much ingratitude to own some favours +as to conceal others. + +VAL. There, now it's out. + +ANG. I don't understand you now. I thought you had never asked +anything but what a lady might modestly grant, and you confess. + +SCAN. So faith, your business is done here; now you may go brag +somewhere else. + +TATT. Brag! O heavens! Why, did I name anybody? + +ANG. No; I suppose that is not in your power; but you would if you +could, no doubt on't. + +TATT. Not in my power, madam! What, does your ladyship mean that I +have no woman's reputation in my power? + +SCAN. 'Oons, why, you won't own it, will you? [Aside.] + +TATT. Faith, madam, you're in the right; no more I have, as I hope +to be saved; I never had it in my power to say anything to a lady's +prejudice in my life. For as I was telling you, madam, I have been +the most unsuccessful creature living, in things of that nature; and +never had the good fortune to be trusted once with a lady's secret, +not once. + +ANG. No? + +VAL. Not once, I dare answer for him. + +SCAN. And I'll answer for him; for I'm sure if he had, he would +have told me; I find, madam, you don't know Mr Tattle. + +TATT. No indeed, madam, you don't know me at all, I find. For sure +my intimate friends would have known - + +ANG. Then it seems you would have told, if you had been trusted. + +TATT. O pox, Scandal, that was too far put. Never have told +particulars, madam. Perhaps I might have talked as of a third +person; or have introduced an amour of my own, in conversation, by +way of novel; but never have explained particulars. + +ANG. But whence comes the reputation of Mr Tattle's secrecy, if he +was never trusted? + +SCAN. Why, thence it arises--the thing is proverbially spoken; but +may be applied to him--as if we should say in general terms, he only +is secret who never was trusted; a satirical proverb upon our sex. +There's another upon yours--as she is chaste, who was never asked +the question. That's all. + +VAL. A couple of very civil proverbs, truly. 'Tis hard to tell +whether the lady or Mr Tattle be the more obliged to you. For you +found her virtue upon the backwardness of the men; and his secrecy +upon the mistrust of the women. + +TATT. Gad, it's very true, madam, I think we are obliged to acquit +ourselves. And for my part--but your ladyship is to speak first. + +ANG. Am I? Well, I freely confess I have resisted a great deal of +temptation. + +TATT. And i'Gad, I have given some temptation that has not been +resisted. + +VAL. Good. + +ANG. I cite Valentine here, to declare to the court, how fruitless +he has found his endeavours, and to confess all his solicitations +and my denials. + +VAL. I am ready to plead not guilty for you; and guilty for myself. + +SCAN. So, why this is fair, here's demonstration with a witness. + +TATT. Well, my witnesses are not present. But I confess I have had +favours from persons. But as the favours are numberless, so the +persons are nameless. + +SCAN. Pooh, this proves nothing. + +TATT. No? I can show letters, lockets, pictures, and rings; and if +there be occasion for witnesses, I can summon the maids at the +chocolate-houses, all the porters at Pall Mall and Covent Garden, +the door-keepers at the Playhouse, the drawers at Locket's, +Pontack's, the Rummer, Spring Garden, my own landlady and valet de +chambre; all who shall make oath that I receive more letters than +the Secretary's office, and that I have more vizor-masks to enquire +for me, than ever went to see the Hermaphrodite, or the Naked +Prince. And it is notorious that in a country church once, an +enquiry being made who I was, it was answered, I was the famous +Tattle, who had ruined so many women. + +VAL. It was there, I suppose, you got the nickname of the Great +Turk. + +TATT. True; I was called Turk-Tattle all over the parish. The next +Sunday all the old women kept their daughters at home, and the +parson had not half his congregation. He would have brought me into +the spiritual court, but I was revenged upon him, for he had a +handsome daughter whom I initiated into the science. But I repented +it afterwards, for it was talked of in town. And a lady of quality +that shall be nameless, in a raging fit of jealousy, came down in +her coach and six horses, and exposed herself upon my account; Gad, +I was sorry for it with all my heart. You know whom I mean--you +know where we raffled - + +SCAN. Mum, Tattle. + +VAL. 'Sdeath, are not you ashamed? + +ANG. O barbarous! I never heard so insolent a piece of vanity. +Fie, Mr Tattle; I'll swear I could not have believed it. Is this +your secrecy? + +TATT. Gadso, the heat of my story carried me beyond my discretion, +as the heat of the lady's passion hurried her beyond her reputation. +But I hope you don't know whom I mean; for there was a great many +ladies raffled. Pox on't, now could I bite off my tongue. + +SCAN. No, don't; for then you'll tell us no more. Come, I'll +recommend a song to you upon the hint of my two proverbs, and I see +one in the next room that will sing it. [Goes to the door.] + +TATT. For heaven's sake, if you do guess, say nothing; Gad, I'm +very unfortunate. + +SCAN. Pray sing the first song in the last new play. + + +SONG. + +Set by Mr John Eccles. + +I. + +A nymph and a swain to Apollo once prayed, +The swain had been jilted, the nymph been betrayed: +Their intent was to try if his oracle knew +E'er a nymph that was chaste, or a swain that was true. + +II. + +Apollo was mute, and had like t'have been posed, +But sagely at length he this secret disclosed: +He alone won't betray in whom none will confide, +And the nymph may be chaste that has never been tried. + + +SCENE IV. + + +[To them] SIR SAMPSON, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE, and SERVANT. + +SIR SAMP. Is Ben come? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't. +Where is he? I long to see him. Now, Mrs Frail, you shall see my +son Ben. Body o' me, he's the hopes of my family. I han't seen him +these three years--I warrant he's grown. Call him in, bid him make +haste. I'm ready to cry for joy. + +MRS FRAIL. Now Miss, you shall see your husband. + +MISS. Pish, he shall be none of my husband. [Aside to Frail.] + +MRS FRAIL. Hush. Well he shan't; leave that to me. I'll beckon Mr +Tattle to us. + +ANG. Won't you stay and see your brother? + +VAL. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere; when he +rises I must set. Besides, if I should stay, I don't know but my +father in good nature may press me to the immediate signing the deed +of conveyance of my estate; and I'll defer it as long as I can. +Well, you'll come to a resolution. + +ANG. I can't. Resolution must come to me, or I shall never have +one. + +SCAN. Come, Valentine, I'll go with you; I've something in my head +to communicate to you. + + +SCENE V. + + +ANGELICA, SIR SAMPSON, TATTLE, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE. + +SIR SAMP. What, is my son Valentine gone? What, is he sneaked off, +and would not see his brother? There's an unnatural whelp! There's +an ill-natured dog! What, were you here too, madam, and could not +keep him? Could neither love, nor duty, nor natural affection +oblige him? Odsbud, madam, have no more to say to him, he is not +worth your consideration. The rogue has not a drachm of generous +love about him--all interest, all interest; he's an undone +scoundrel, and courts your estate: body o' me, he does not care a +doit for your person. + +ANG. I'm pretty even with him, Sir Sampson; for if ever I could +have liked anything in him, it should have been his estate too; but +since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears. + +SIR SAMP. Odsbud, well spoken, and you are a wiser woman than I +thought you were, for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted +with a naked hook. + +ANG. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I'm for a good estate with any man, +and for any man with a good estate; therefore, if I were obliged to +make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than your son. + +SIR SAMP. Faith and troth, you're a wise woman, and I'm glad to +hear you say so; I was afraid you were in love with the reprobate. +Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart. Hang him, mongrel, cast +him off; you shall see the rogue show himself, and make love to some +desponding Cadua of fourscore for sustenance. Odd, I love to see a +young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like +ivy round a dead oak; faith I do, I love to see 'em hug and cotton +together, like down upon a thistle. + + +SCENE VI. + + +[To them] BEN LEGEND and SERVANT. + +BEN. Where's father? + +SERV. There, sir, his back's toward you. + +SIR SAMP. My son Ben! Bless thee, my dear body. Body o' me, thou +art heartily welcome. + +BEN. Thank you, father, and I'm glad to see you. + +SIR SAMP. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee; kiss me, boy, kiss me +again and again, dear Ben. [Kisses him.] + +BEN. So, so, enough, father, Mess, I'd rather kiss these +gentlewomen. + +SIR SAMP. And so thou shalt. Mrs Angelica, my son Ben. + +BEN. Forsooth, if you please. [Salutes her.] Nay, mistress, I'm +not for dropping anchor here; about ship, i'faith. [Kisses Frail.] +Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat--so [Kisses Miss]. + +TATT. Sir, you're welcome ashore. + +BEN. Thank you, thank you, friend. + +SIR SAMP. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw +thee. + +BEN. Ay, ay, been! Been far enough, an' that be all. Well, +father, and how do all at home? How does brother Dick, and brother +Val? + +SIR SAMP. Dick--body o' me--Dick has been dead these two years. I +writ you word when you were at Leghorn. + +BEN. Mess, that's true; marry! I had forgot. Dick's dead, as you +say. Well, and how? I have a many questions to ask you. Well, you +ben't married again, father, be you? + +SIR SAMP. No; I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not marry for +thy sake. + +BEN. Nay, what does that signify? An' you marry again--why then, +I'll go to sea again, so there's one for t'other, an' that be all. +Pray don't let me be your hindrance--e'en marry a God's name, an the +wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry. + +FRAIL. That would be pity--such a handsome young gentleman. + +BEN. Handsome! he, he, he! nay, forsooth, an you be for joking, +I'll joke with you, for I love my jest, an' the ship were sinking, +as we sayn at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards +matrimony. I love to roam about from port to port, and from land to +land; I could never abide to be port-bound, as we call it. Now, a +man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the +bilboes, and mayhap mayn't get them out again when he would. + +SIR SAMP. Ben's a wag. + +BEN. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man +than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors; he is chained to +an oar all his life, and mayhap forced to tug a leaky vessel into +the bargain. + +SIR SAMP. A very wag--Ben's a very wag; only a little rough, he +wants a little polishing. + +MRS FRAIL. Not at all; I like his humour mightily: it's plain and +honest--I should like such a humour in a husband extremely. + +BEN. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a +handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you, +mistress, would you like going to sea? Mess, you're a tight vessel, +an well rigged, an you were but as well manned. + +MRS FRAIL. I should not doubt that if you were master of me. + +BEN. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high +wind, or that lady--you may'nt carry so much sail o' your head--top +and top gallant, by the mess. + +MRS FRAIL. No, why so? + +BEN. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset, and then +you'll carry your keels above water, he, he, he! + +ANG. I swear, Mr Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature--an absolute +sea-wit. + +SIR SAMP. Nay, Ben has parts, but as I told you before, they want a +little polishing. You must not take anything ill, madam. + +BEN. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry; I mean all in good +part, for if I give a jest, I'll take a jest, and so forsooth you +may be as free with me. + +ANG. I thank you, sir, I am not at all offended. But methinks, Sir +Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr Tattle, +we must not hinder lovers. + +TATT. Well, Miss, I have your promise. [Aside to Miss.] + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, madam, you say true. Look you, Ben, this is +your mistress. Come, Miss, you must not be shame-faced; we'll leave +you together. + +MISS. I can't abide to be left alone; mayn't my cousin stay with +me? + +SIR SAMP. No, no. Come, let's away. + +BEN. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking +to me. + +SIR SAMP. I warrant thee, boy: come, come, we'll be gone; I'll +venture that. + + +SCENE VII. + + +BEN, and MISS PRUE. + +BEN. Come mistress, will you please to sit down? for an you stand a +stern a that'n, we shall never grapple together. Come, I'll haul a +chair; there, an you please to sit, I'll sit by you. + +MISS. You need not sit so near one, if you have anything to say, I +can hear you farther off, I an't deaf. + +BEN. Why that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb, I can be heard +as far as another,--I'll heave off, to please you. [Sits farther +off.] An we were a league asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse +with you, an 'twere not a main high wind indeed, and full in my +teeth. Look you, forsooth, I am, as it were, bound for the land of +matrimony; 'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking. I +was commanded by father, and if you like of it, mayhap I may steer +into your harbour. How say you, mistress? The short of the thing +is, that if you like me, and I like you, we may chance to swing in a +hammock together. + +MISS. I don't know what to say to you, nor I don't care to speak +with you at all. + +BEN. No? I'm sorry for that. But pray why are you so scornful? + +MISS. As long as one must not speak one's mind, one had better not +speak at all, I think, and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter. + +BEN. Nay, you say true in that, it's but a folly to lie: for to +speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way is, as it were, +to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, +I'm for carrying things above board, I'm not for keeping anything +under hatches,--so that if you ben't as willing as I, say so a God's +name: there's no harm done; mayhap you may be shame-faced; some +maidens thof they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to +tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why, silence gives +consent. + +MISS. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner than you +should believe that; and I'll speak truth, though one should always +tell a lie to a man; and I don't care, let my father do what he +will; I'm too big to be whipt, so I'll tell you plainly, I don't +like you, nor love you at all, nor never will, that's more: so +there's your answer for you; and don't trouble me no more, you ugly +thing. + +BEN. Look you, young woman, you may learn to give good words, +however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and civil. As for your love +or your liking, I don't value it of a rope's end; and mayhap I like +you as little as you do me: what I said was in obedience to father. +Gad, I fear a whipping no more than you do. But I tell you one +thing, if you should give such language at sea, you'd have a cat o' +nine tails laid cross your shoulders. Flesh! who are you? You +heard t'other handsome young woman speak civilly to me of her own +accord. Whatever you think of yourself, gad, I don't think you are +any more to compare to her than a can of small-beer to a bowl of +punch. + +MISS. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a fine gentleman, +and a sweet gentleman, that was here that loves me, and I love him; +and if he sees you speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket +for you, he will, you great sea-calf. + +BEN. What, do you mean that fair-weather spark that was here just +now? Will he thrash my jacket? Let'n,--let'n. But an he comes +near me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that. +What does father mean to leave me alone as soon as I come home with +such a dirty dowdy? Sea-calf? I an't calf enough to lick your +chalked face, you cheese-curd you: --marry thee? Oons, I'll marry a +Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds and +wrecked vessels. + +MISS. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus, so I +won't. If I were a man [cries]--you durst not talk at his rate. +No, you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel. + + +SCENE VIII. + + +[To them] MRS FORESIGHT and MRS FRAIL. + +MRS FORE. They have quarrelled, just as we could wish. + +BEN. Tar-barrel? Let your sweetheart there call me so, if he'll +take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say something to him; +gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for him, I'll make him stink: he +shall smell more like a weasel than a civet-cat, afore I ha' done +with 'en. + +MRS FORE. Bless me, what's the matter, Miss? What, does she cry? +Mr Benjamin, what have you done to her? + +BEN. Let her cry: the more she cries the less she'll--she has been +gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her +eyes. + +MRS FORE. Come, Miss, come along with me, and tell me, poor child. + +MRS FRAIL. Lord, what shall we do? There's my brother Foresight +and Sir Sampson coming. Sister, do you take Miss down into the +parlour, and I'll carry Mr Benjamin into my chamber, for they must +not know that they are fallen out. Come, sir, will you venture +yourself with me? [Looking kindly on him.] + +BEN. Venture, mess, and that I will, though 'twere to sea in a +storm. + + +SCENE IX. + + +SIR SAMPSON and FORESIGHT. + +SIR SAMP. I left 'em together here; what, are they gone? Ben's a +brisk boy: he has got her into a corner; father's own son, faith, +he'll touzle her, and mouzle her. The rogue's sharp set, coming +from sea; if he should not stay for saving grace, old Foresight, but +fall to without the help of a parson, ha? Odd, if he should I could +not be angry with him; 'twould be but like me, a chip of the old +block. Ha! thou'rt melancholic, old Prognostication; as melancholic +as if thou hadst spilt the salt, or pared thy nails on a Sunday. +Come, cheer up, look about thee: look up, old stargazer. Now is he +poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an old horse-nail, with +the head towards him. + +FORE. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding to-morrow morning. + +SIR SAMP. With all my heart. + +FORE. At ten a'clock, punctually at ten. + +SIR SAMP. To a minute, to a second; thou shalt set thy watch, and +the bridegroom shall observe its motions; they shall be married to a +minute, go to bed to a minute; and when the alarm strikes, they +shall keep time like the figures of St. Dunstan's clock, and +consummatum est shall ring all over the parish. + + +SCENE X. + + +[To them] SCANDAL. + +SCAN. Sir Sampson, sad news. + +FORE. Bless us! + +SIR SAMP. Why, what's the matter? + +SCAN. Can't you guess at what ought to afflict you and him, and all +of us, more than anything else? + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, I don't know any universal grievance, but a +new tax, or the loss of the Canary fleet. Unless popery should be +landed in the West, or the French fleet were at anchor at Blackwall. + +SCAN. No. Undoubtedly, Mr Foresight knew all this, and might have +prevented it. + +FORE. 'Tis no earthquake! + +SCAN. No, not yet; nor whirlwind. But we don't know what it may +come to. But it has had a consequence already that touches us all. + +SIR SAMP. Why, body o' me, out with't. + +SCAN. Something has appeared to your son Valentine. He's gone to +bed upon't, and very ill. He speaks little, yet he says he has a +world to say. Asks for his father and the wise Foresight; talks of +Raymond Lully, and the ghost of Lilly. He has secrets to impart, I +suppose, to you two. I can get nothing out of him but sighs. He +desires he may see you in the morning, but would not be disturbed +to-night, because he has some business to do in a dream. + +SIR SAMP. Hoity toity, what have I to do with his dreams or his +divination? Body o' me, this is a trick to defer signing the +conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him in a dream that he +must not part with his estate. But I'll bring him a parson to tell +him that the devil's a liar: --or if that won't do, I'll bring a +lawyer that shall out-lie the devil. And so I'll try whether my +blackguard or his shall get the better of the day. + + +SCENE XI. + + +SCANDAL, FORESIGHT. + +SCAN. Alas, Mr Foresight, I'm afraid all is not right. You are a +wise man, and a conscientious man, a searcher into obscurity and +futurity, and if you commit an error, it is with a great deal of +consideration, and discretion, and caution - + +FORE. Ah, good Mr Scandal - + +SCAN. Nay, nay, 'tis manifest; I do not flatter you. But Sir +Sampson is hasty, very hasty. I'm afraid he is not scrupulous +enough, Mr Foresight. He has been wicked, and heav'n grant he may +mean well in his affair with you. But my mind gives me, these +things cannot be wholly insignificant. You are wise, and should not +be over-reached, methinks you should not - + +FORE. Alas, Mr Scandal,--humanum est errare. + +SCAN. You say true, man will err; mere man will err--but you are +something more. There have been wise men; but they were such as +you, men who consulted the stars, and were observers of omens. +Solomon was wise, but how?--by his judgment in astrology. So says +Pineda in his third book and eighth chapter - + +FORE. You are learned, Mr Scandal. + +SCAN. A trifler--but a lover of art. And the Wise Men of the East +owed their instruction to a star, which is rightly observed by +Gregory the Great in favour of astrology. And Albertus Magnus makes +it the most valuable science, because, says he, it teaches us to +consider the causation of causes, in the causes of things. + +FORE. I protest I honour you, Mr Scandal. I did not think you had +been read in these matters. Few young men are inclined - + +SCAN. I thank my stars that have inclined me. But I fear this +marriage and making over this estate, this transferring of a +rightful inheritance, will bring judgments upon us. I prophesy it, +and I would not have the fate of Cassandra not to be believed. +Valentine is disturbed; what can be the cause of that? And Sir +Sampson is hurried on by an unusual violence. I fear he does not +act wholly from himself; methinks he does not look as he used to do. + +FORE. He was always of an impetuous nature. But as to this +marriage, I have consulted the stars, and all appearances are +prosperous - + +SCAN. Come, come, Mr Foresight, let not the prospect of worldly +lucre carry you beyond your judgment, nor against your conscience. +You are not satisfied that you act justly. + +FORE. How? + +SCAN. You are not satisfied, I say. I am loth to discourage you, +but it is palpable that you are not satisfied. + +FORE. How does it appear, Mr Scandal? I think I am very well +satisfied. + +SCAN. Either you suffer yourself to deceive yourself, or you do not +know yourself. + +FORE. Pray explain yourself. + +SCAN. Do you sleep well o' nights? + +FORE. Very well. + +SCAN. Are you certain? You do not look so. + +FORE. I am in health, I think. + +SCAN. So was Valentine this morning; and looked just so. + +FORE. How? Am I altered any way? I don't perceive it. + +SCAN. That may be, but your beard is longer than it was two hours +ago. + +FORE. Indeed! Bless me! + + +SCENE XII. + + +[To them] MRS FORESIGHT. + +MRS FORE. Husband, will you go to bed? It's ten a'clock. Mr +Scandal, your servant. + +SCAN. Pox on her, she has interrupted my design--but I must work +her into the project. You keep early hours, madam. + +MRS FORE. Mr Foresight is punctual; we sit up after him. + +FORE. My dear, pray lend me your glass, your little looking-glass. + +SCAN. Pray lend it him, madam. I'll tell you the reason. + +[She gives him the glass: SCANDAL and she whisper.] My passion for +you is grown so violent, that I am no longer master of myself. I +was interrupted in the morning, when you had charity enough to give +me your attention, and I had hopes of finding another opportunity of +explaining myself to you, but was disappointed all this day; and the +uneasiness that has attended me ever since brings me now hither at +this unseasonable hour. + +MRS FORE. Was there ever such impudence, to make love to me before +my husband's face? I'll swear I'll tell him. + +SCAN. Do. I'll die a martyr rather than disclaim my passion. But +come a little farther this way, and I'll tell you what project I had +to get him out of the way; that I might have an opportunity of +waiting upon you. [Whisper. FORESIGHT looking in the glass.] + +FORE. I do not see any revolution here; methinks I look with a +serene and benign aspect--pale, a little pale--but the roses of +these cheeks have been gathered many years;--ha! I do not like that +sudden flushing. Gone already! hem, hem, hem! faintish. My heart +is pretty good; yet it beats; and my pulses, ha!--I have none--mercy +on me--hum. Yes, here they are--gallop, gallop, gallop, gallop, +gallop, gallop, hey! Whither will they hurry me? Now they're gone +again. And now I'm faint again, and pale again, and hem! and my +hem! breath, hem! grows short; hem! hem! he, he, hem! + +SCAN. It takes: pursue it in the name of love and pleasure. + +MRS FORE. How do you do, Mr Foresight! + +FORE. Hum, not so well as I thought I was. Lend me your hand. + +SCAN. Look you there now. Your lady says your sleep has been +unquiet of late. + +FORE. Very likely. + +MRS FORE. Oh, mighty restless, but I was afraid to tell him so. He +has been subject to talking and starting. + +SCAN. And did not use to be so? + +MRS FORE. Never, never, till within these three nights; I cannot +say that he has once broken my rest since we have been married. + +FORE. I will go to bed. + +SCAN. Do so, Mr Foresight, and say your prayers. He looks better +than he did. + +MRS FORE. Nurse, nurse! + +FORE. Do you think so, Mr Scandal? + +SCAN. Yes, yes. I hope this will be gone by morning, taking it in +time. + +FORE. I hope so. + + +SCENE XIII. + + +[To them] NURSE. + +MRS FORE. Nurse; your master is not well; put him to bed. + +SCAN. I hope you will be able to see Valentine in the morning. You +had best take a little diacodion and cowslip-water, and lie upon +your back: maybe you may dream. + +FORE. I thank you, Mr Scandal, I will. Nurse, let me have a watch- +light, and lay the Crumbs of Comfort by me. + +NURSE. Yes, sir. + +FORE. And--hem, hem! I am very faint. + +SCAN. No, no, you look much better. + +FORE. Do I? And, d'ye hear, bring me, let me see--within a quarter +of twelve, hem--he, hem!--just upon the turning of the tide, bring +me the urinal; and I hope, neither the lord of my ascendant, nor the +moon will be combust; and then I may do well. + +SCAN. I hope so. Leave that to me; I will erect a scheme; and I +hope I shall find both Sol and Venus in the sixth house. + +FORE. I thank you, Mr Scandal, indeed that would be a great comfort +to me. Hem, hem! good night. + + +SCENE XIV. + + +SCANDAL, MRS FORESIGHT. + +SCAN. Good night, good Mr Foresight; and I hope Mars and Venus will +be in conjunction;--while your wife and I are together. + +MRS FORE. Well; and what use do you hope to make of this project? +You don't think that you are ever like to succeed in your design +upon me? + +SCAN. Yes, faith I do; I have a better opinion both of you and +myself than to despair. + +MRS FORE. Did you ever hear such a toad? Hark'ee, devil: do you +think any woman honest? + +SCAN. Yes, several, very honest; they'll cheat a little at cards, +sometimes, but that's nothing. + +MRS FORE. Pshaw! but virtuous, I mean? + +SCAN. Yes, faith, I believe some women are virtuous too; but 'tis +as I believe some men are valiant, through fear. For why should a +man court danger or a woman shun pleasure? + +MRS FORE. Oh, monstrous! What are conscience and honour? + +SCAN. Why, honour is a public enemy, and conscience a domestic +thief; and he that would secure his pleasure must pay a tribute to +one and go halves with t'other. As for honour, that you have +secured, for you have purchased a perpetual opportunity for +pleasure. + +MRS FORE. An opportunity for pleasure? + +SCAN. Ay, your husband, a husband is an opportunity for pleasure: +so you have taken care of honour, and 'tis the least I can do to +take care of conscience. + +MRS FORE. And so you think we are free for one another? + +SCAN. Yes, faith I think so; I love to speak my mind. + +MRS FORE. Why, then, I'll speak my mind. Now as to this affair +between you and me. Here you make love to me; why, I'll confess it +does not displease me. Your person is well enough, and your +understanding is not amiss. + +SCAN. I have no great opinion of myself, but I think I'm neither +deformed nor a fool. + +MRS FORE. But you have a villainous character: you are a libertine +in speech, as well as practice. + +SCAN. Come, I know what you would say: you think it more dangerous +to be seen in conversation with me than to allow some other men the +last favour; you mistake: the liberty I take in talking is purely +affected for the service of your sex. He that first cries out stop +thief is often he that has stol'n the treasure. I am a juggler, +that act by confederacy; and if you please, we'll put a trick upon +the world. + +MRS FORE. Ay; but you are such an universal juggler, that I'm +afraid you have a great many confederates. + +SCAN. Faith, I'm sound. + +MRS FORE. Oh, fie--I'll swear you're impudent. + +SCAN. I'll swear you're handsome. + +MRS FORE. Pish, you'd tell me so, though you did not think so. + +SCAN. And you'd think so, though I should not tell you so. And now +I think we know one another pretty well. + +MRS FORE. O Lord, who's here? + + +SCENE XV. + + +[To them] MRS FRAIL and BEN. + +BEN. Mess, I love to speak my mind. Father has nothing to do with +me. Nay, I can't say that neither; he has something to do with me. +But what does that signify? If so be that I ben't minded to be +steered by him; 'tis as thof he should strive against wind and tide. + +MRS FRAIL. Ay, but, my dear, we must keep it secret till the estate +be settled; for you know, marrying without an estate is like sailing +in a ship without ballast. + +BEN. He, he, he; why, that's true; just so for all the world it is +indeed, as like as two cable ropes. + +MRS FRAIL. And though I have a good portion, you know one would not +venture all in one bottom. + +BEN. Why, that's true again; for mayhap one bottom may spring a +leak. You have hit it indeed: mess, you've nicked the channel. + +MRS FRAIL. Well, but if you should forsake me after all, you'd +break my heart. + +BEN. Break your heart? I'd rather the Mary-gold should break her +cable in a storm, as well as I love her. Flesh, you don't think I'm +false-hearted, like a landman. A sailor will be honest, thof mayhap +he has never a penny of money in his pocket. Mayhap I may not have +so fair a face as a citizen or a courtier; but, for all that, I've +as good blood in my veins, and a heart as sound as a biscuit. + +MRS FRAIL. And will you love me always? + +BEN. Nay, an I love once, I'll stick like pitch; I'll tell you +that. Come, I'll sing you a song of a sailor. + +MRS FRAIL. Hold, there's my sister, I'll call her to hear it. + +MRS FORE. Well; I won't go to bed to my husband to-night, because +I'll retire to my own chamber, and think of what you have said. + +SCAN. Well; you'll give me leave to wait upon you to your chamber +door, and leave you my last instructions? + +MRS FORE. Hold, here's my sister coming towards us. + +MRS FRAIL. If it won't interrupt you I'll entertain you with a +song. + +BEN. The song was made upon one of our ship's-crew's wife. Our +boatswain made the song. Mayhap you may know her, sir. Before she +was married she was called buxom Joan of Deptford. + +SCAN. I have heard of her. + +BEN. [Sings]:- + + +BALLAD. + +Set by MR JOHN ECCLES. + +I. + +A soldier and a sailor, +A tinker and a tailor, +Had once a doubtful strife, sir, +To make a maid a wife, sir, +Whose name was buxom Joan. +For now the time was ended, +When she no more intended +To lick her lips at men, sir, +And gnaw the sheets in vain, sir, +And lie o' nights alone. + +II. + +The soldier swore like thunder, +He loved her more than plunder, +And shewed her many a scar, sir, +That he had brought from far, sir, +With fighting for her sake. +The tailor thought to please her +With offering her his measure. +The tinker, too, with mettle +Said he could mend her kettle, +And stop up ev'ry leak. + +III. + +But while these three were prating, +The sailor slyly waiting, +Thought if it came about, sir, +That they should all fall out, sir, +He then might play his part. +And just e'en as he meant, sir, +To loggerheads they went, sir, +And then he let fly at her +A shot 'twixt wind and water, +That won this fair maid's heart. + +BEN. If some of our crew that came to see me are not gone, you +shall see that we sailors can dance sometimes as well as other +folks. [Whistles.] I warrant that brings 'em, an they be within +hearing. [Enter seamen]. Oh, here they be--and fiddles along with +'em. Come, my lads, let's have a round, and I'll make one. +[Dance.] + +BEN. We're merry folks, we sailors: we han't much to care for. +Thus we live at sea; eat biscuit, and drink flip, put on a clean +shirt once a quarter; come home and lie with our landladies once a +year, get rid of a little money, and then put off with the next fair +wind. How d'ye like us? + +MRS FRAIL. Oh, you are the happiest, merriest men alive. + +MRS FORE. We're beholden to Mr Benjamin for this entertainment. I +believe it's late. + +BEN. Why, forsooth, an you think so, you had best go to bed. For +my part, I mean to toss a can, and remember my sweet-heart, afore I +turn in; mayhap I may dream of her. + +MRS FORE. Mr Scandal, you had best go to bed and dream too. + +SCAN. Why, faith, I have a good lively imagination, and can dream +as much to the purpose as another, if I set about it. But dreaming +is the poor retreat of a lazy, hopeless, and imperfect lover; 'tis +the last glimpse of love to worn-out sinners, and the faint dawning +of a bliss to wishing girls and growing boys. + + +There's nought but willing, waking love, that can +Make blest the ripened maid and finished man. + + + +ACT IV.--SCENE I. + + + +Valentine's lodging. + +SCANDAL and JEREMY. + +SCAN. Well, is your master ready? does he look madly and talk +madly? + +JERE. Yes, sir; you need make no great doubt of that. He that was +so near turning poet yesterday morning can't be much to seek in +playing the madman to-day. + +SCAN. Would he have Angelica acquainted with the reason of his +design? + +JERE. No, sir, not yet. He has a mind to try whether his playing +the madman won't make her play the fool, and fall in love with him; +or at least own that she has loved him all this while and concealed +it. + +SCAN. I saw her take coach just now with her maid, and think I +heard her bid the coachman drive hither. + +JERE. Like enough, sir, for I told her maid this morning, my master +was run stark mad only for love of her mistress.--I hear a coach +stop; if it should be she, sir, I believe he would not see her, till +he hears how she takes it. + +SCAN. Well, I'll try her: --'tis she--here she comes. + + +SCENE II. + + +[To them] ANGELICA with JENNY. + +ANG. Mr Scandal, I suppose you don't think it a novelty to see a +woman visit a man at his own lodgings in a morning? + +SCAN. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But when a lady comes +tyrannically to insult a ruined lover, and make manifest the cruel +triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of it something surprises me. + +ANG. I don't like raillery from a serious face. Pray tell me what +is the matter? + +JERE. No strange matter, madam; my master's mad, that's all. I +suppose your ladyship has thought him so a great while. + +ANG. How d'ye mean, mad? + +JERE. Why, faith, madam, he's mad for want of his wits, just as he +was poor for want of money; his head is e'en as light as his +pockets, and anybody that has a mind to a bad bargain can't do +better than to beg him for his estate. + +ANG. If you speak truth, your endeavouring at wit is very +unseasonable. + +SCAN. She's concerned, and loves him. [Aside.] + +ANG. Mr Scandal, you can't think me guilty of so much inhumanity as +not to be concerned for a man I must own myself obliged to? Pray +tell me truth. + +SCAN. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend the matter. +But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful passion. + +ANG. [Aside.] I know not what to think. Yet I should be vexed to +have a trick put upon me. May I not see him? + +SCAN. I'm afraid the physician is not willing you should see him +yet. Jeremy, go in and enquire. + + +SCENE III. + + +SCANDAL, ANGELICA, JENNY. + +ANG. Ha! I saw him wink and smile. I fancy 'tis a trick--I'll +try.--I would disguise to all the world a failing which I must own +to you: I fear my happiness depends upon the recovery of Valentine. +Therefore I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have +compassion upon one fearful of affliction, to tell me what I am to +hope for--I cannot speak--but you may tell me, tell me, for you know +what I would ask? + +SCAN. So, this is pretty plain. Be not too much concerned, madam; +I hope his condition is not desperate. An acknowledgment of love +from you, perhaps, may work a cure, as the fear of your aversion +occasioned his distemper. + +ANG. [Aside.] Say you so; nay, then, I'm convinced. And if I +don't play trick for trick, may I never taste the pleasure of +revenge.--Acknowledgment of love! I find you have mistaken my +compassion, and think me guilty of a weakness I am a stranger to. +But I have too much sincerity to deceive you, and too much charity +to suffer him to be deluded with vain hopes. Good nature and +humanity oblige me to be concerned for him; but to love is neither +in my power nor inclination, and if he can't be cured without I suck +the poison from his wounds, I'm afraid he won't recover his senses +till I lose mine. + +SCAN. Hey, brave woman, i'faith--won't you see him, then, if he +desire it? + +ANG. What signify a madman's desires? Besides, 'twould make me +uneasy: --if I don't see him, perhaps my concern for him may lessen. +If I forget him, 'tis no more than he has done by himself; and now +the surprise is over, methinks I am not half so sorry as I was. + +SCAN. So, faith, good nature works apace; you were confessing just +now an obligation to his love. + +ANG. But I have considered that passions are unreasonable and +involuntary; if he loves, he can't help it; and if I don't love, I +can't help it; no more than he can help his being a man, or I my +being a woman: or no more than I can help my want of inclination to +stay longer here. Come, Jenny. + + +SCENE IV. + + +SCANDAL, JEREMY. + +SCAN. Humh! An admirable composition, faith, this same womankind. + +JERE. What, is she gone, sir? + +SCAN. Gone? Why, she was never here, nor anywhere else; nor I +don't know her if I see her, nor you neither. + +JERE. Good lack! What's the matter now? Are any more of us to be +mad? Why, sir, my master longs to see her, and is almost mad in +good earnest with the joyful news of her being here. + +SCAN. We are all under a mistake. Ask no questions, for I can't +resolve you; but I'll inform your master. In the meantime, if our +project succeed no better with his father than it does with his +mistress, he may descend from his exaltation of madness into the +road of common sense, and be content only to be made a fool with +other reasonable people. I hear Sir Sampson. You know your cue; +I'll to your master. + + +SCENE V. + + +JEREMY, SIR SAMPSON LEGEND, with a LAWYER. + +SIR SAMP. D'ye see, Mr Buckram, here's the paper signed with his +own hand. + +BUCK. Good, sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn in this box, if +he be ready to sign and seal. + +SIR SAMP. Ready, body o' me? He must be ready. His sham-sickness +shan't excuse him. Oh, here's his scoundrel. Sirrah, where's your +master? + +JERE. Ah sir, he's quite gone. + +SIR SAMP. Gone! What, he is not dead? + +JERE. No, sir, not dead. + +SIR SAMP. What, is he gone out of town, run away, ha? has he +tricked me? Speak, varlet. + +JERE. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but as sound, +poor gentleman. He is indeed here, sir, and not here, sir. + +SIR SAMP. Hey day, rascal, do you banter me? Sirrah, d'ye banter +me? Speak, sirrah, where is he? for I will find him. + +JERE. Would you could, sir, for he has lost himself. Indeed, sir, +I have a'most broke my heart about him--I can't refrain tears when I +think of him, sir: I'm as melancholy for him as a passing-bell, +sir, or a horse in a pound. + +SIR SAMP. A pox confound your similitudes, sir. Speak to be +understood, and tell me in plain terms what the matter is with him, +or I'll crack your fool's skull. + +JERE. Ah, you've hit it, sir; that's the matter with him, sir: his +skull's cracked, poor gentleman; he's stark mad, sir. + +SIR SAMP. Mad! + +BUCK. What, is he non compos? + +JERE. Quite non compos, sir. + +BUCK. Why, then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson, if he be non +compos mentis; his act and deed will be of no effect, it is not good +in law. + +SIR SAMP. Oons, I won't believe it; let me see him, sir. Mad--I'll +make him find his senses. + +JERE. Mr Scandal is with him, sir; I'll knock at the door. + +[Goes to the scene, which opens.] + + +SCENE VI. + + +SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY, and LAWYER. VALENTINE upon +a couch disorderly dressed. + +SIR SAMP. How now, what's here to do? + +VAL. Ha! Who's that? [Starting.] + +SCAN. For heav'n's sake softly, sir, and gently; don't provoke him. + +VAL. Answer me: who is that, and that? + +SIR SAMP. Gads bobs, does he not know me? Is he mischievous? I'll +speak gently. Val, Val, dost thou not know me, boy? Not know thy +own father, Val? I am thy own father, and this is honest Brief +Buckram, the lawyer. + +VAL. It may be so--I did not know you--the world is full. There +are people that we do know, and people that we do not know, and yet +the sun shines upon all alike. There are fathers that have many +children, and there are children that have many fathers. 'Tis +strange! But I am Truth, and come to give the world the lie. + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, I know not what to say to him. + +VAL. Why does that lawyer wear black? Does he carry his conscience +withoutside? Lawyer what art thou? Dost thou know me? + +BUCK. O Lord, what must I say? Yes, sir, + +VAL. Thou liest, for I am Truth. 'Tis hard I cannot get a +livelihood amongst you. I have been sworn out of Westminster Hall +the first day of every term--let me see--no matter how long. But +I'll tell you one thing: it's a question that would puzzle an +arithmetician, if you should ask him, whether the Bible saves more +souls in Westminster Abbey, or damns more in Westminster Hall. For +my part, I am Truth, and can't tell; I have very few acquaintance. + +SIR SAMP. Body o' me, he talks sensibly in his madness. Has he no +intervals? + +JERE. Very short, sir. + +BUCK. Sir, I can do you no service while he's in this condition. +Here's your paper, sir--he may do me a mischief if I stay. The +conveyance is ready, sir, if he recover his senses. + + +SCENE VII. + + +SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY. + +SIR SAMP. Hold, hold, don't you go yet. + +SCAN. You'd better let him go, sir, and send for him if there be +occasion; for I fancy his presence provokes him more. + +VAL. Is the lawyer gone? 'Tis well, then we may drink about +without going together by the ears--heigh ho! What a'clock is't? +My father here! Your blessing, sir. + +SIR SAMP. He recovers--bless thee, Val; how dost thou do, boy? + +VAL. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a little out of +order, Won't you please to sit, sir? + +SIR SAMP. Ay, boy. Come, thou shalt sit down by me. + +VAL. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait. + +SIR SAMP. No, no; come, come, sit thee down, honest Val. How dost +thou do? Let me feel thy pulse. Oh, pretty well now, Val. Body o' +me, I was sorry to see thee indisposed; but I'm glad thou art +better, honest Val. + +VAL. I thank you, sir. + +SCAN. Miracle! The monster grows loving. [Aside.] + +SIR SAMP. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does not shake; I +believe thou canst write, Val. Ha, boy? thou canst write thy name, +Val. Jeremy, step and overtake Mr Buckram, bid him make haste back +with the conveyance; quick, quick. [In whisper to JEREMY.] + + +SCENE VIII. + + +SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL. + +SCAN. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any remorse! +[Aside.] + +SIR SAMP. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thou'rt honest, +and wilt perform articles. [Shows him the paper, but holds it out +of his reach.] + +VAL. Pray let me see it, sir. You hold it so far off that I can't +tell whether I know it or no. + +SIR SAMP. See it, boy? Ay, ay; why, thou dost see it--'tis thy own +hand, Vally. Why, let me see, I can read it as plain as can be. +Look you here. [Reads.] THE CONDITION OF THIS OBLIGATION--Look +you, as plain as can be, so it begins--and then at the bottom--AS +WITNESS MY HAND, VALENTINE LEGEND, in great letters. Why, 'tis as +plain as the nose in one's face. What, are my eyes better than +thine? I believe I can read it farther off yet; let me see. +[Stretches his arm as far as he can.] + +VAL. Will you please to let me hold it, sir? + +SIR SAMP. Let thee hold it, sayest thou? Ay, with all my heart. +What matter is it who holds it? What need anybody hold it? I'll +put it up in my pocket, Val, and then nobody need hold it. [Puts +the paper in his pocket.] There, Val; it's safe enough, boy. But +thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy hand to another +paper, little Val. + + +SCENE IX. + + +[To them] JEREMY with BUCKRAM. + +VAL. What, is my bad genius here again! Oh no, 'tis the lawyer +with an itching palm; and he's come to be scratched. My nails are +not long enough. Let me have a pair of red-hot tongs quickly, +quickly, and you shall see me act St. Dunstan, and lead the devil by +the nose. + +BUCK. O Lord, let me begone: I'll not venture myself with a +madman. + + +SCENE X. + + +SIR SAMPSON, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY. + +VAL. Ha, ha, ha; you need not run so fast, honesty will not +overtake you. Ha, ha, ha, the rogue found me out to be in forma +pauperis presently. + +SIR SAMP. Oons! What a vexation is here! I know not what to do, +or say, nor which way to go. + +VAL. Who's that that's out of his way? I am Truth, and can set him +right. Harkee, friend, the straight road is the worst way you can +go. He that follows his nose always, will very often be led into a +stink. Probatum est. But what are you for? religion or politics? +There's a couple of topics for you, no more like one another than +oil and vinegar; and yet those two, beaten together by a state-cook, +make sauce for the whole nation. + +SIR SAMP. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget sons? Why did +I ever marry? + +VAL. Because thou wert a monster, old boy! The two greatest +monsters in the world are a man and a woman! What's thy opinion? + +SIR SAMP. Why, my opinion is, that those two monsters joined +together, make yet a greater, that's a man and his wife. + +VAL. Aha! Old True-penny, say'st thou so? Thou hast nicked it. +But it's wonderful strange, Jeremy. + +JERE. What is, sir? + +VAL. That gray hairs should cover a green head--and I make a fool +of my father. What's here! Erra Pater: or a bearded sibyl? If +Prophecy comes, Truth must give place. + + +SCENE XI. + + +SIR SAMPSON, SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, MISS FORESIGHT, MRS FRAIL. + +FORE. What says he? What, did he prophesy? Ha, Sir Sampson, bless +us! How are we? + +SIR SAMP. Are we? A pox o' your prognostication. Why, we are +fools as we use to be. Oons, that you could not foresee that the +moon would predominate, and my son be mad. Where's your +oppositions, your trines, and your quadrates? What did your Cardan +and your Ptolemy tell you? Your Messahalah and your Longomontanus, +your harmony of chiromancy with astrology. Ah! pox on't, that I +that know the world and men and manners, that don't believe a +syllable in the sky and stars, and sun and almanacs and trash, +should be directed by a dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business +in expectation of a lucky hour, when, body o' me, there never was a +lucky hour after the first opportunity. + + +SCENE XII. + + +SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, MRS FRAIL. + +FORE. Ah, Sir Sampson, heav'n help your head. This is none of your +lucky hour; Nemo omnibus horis sapit. What, is he gone, and in +contempt of science? Ill stars and unconvertible ignorance attend +him. + +SCAN. You must excuse his passion, Mr Foresight, for he has been +heartily vexed. His son is non compos mentis, and thereby incapable +of making any conveyance in law; so that all his measures are +disappointed. + +FORE. Ha! say you so? + +MRS FRAIL. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of hope, then? +[Aside to MRS FORESIGHT.] + +MRS FORE. O sister, what will you do with him? + +MRS FRAIL. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul +weather. He's used to an inconstant element, and won't be surprised +to see the tide turned. + +FORE. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this? [Considers.] + +SCAN. Madam, you and I can tell him something else that he did not +foresee, and more particularly relating to his own fortune. [Aside +to MRS FORESIGHT.] + +MRS FORE. What do you mean? I don't understand you. + +SCAN. Hush, softly,--the pleasures of last night, my dear, too +considerable to be forgot so soon. + +MRS FORE. Last night! And what would your impudence infer from +last night? Last night was like the night before, I think. + +SCAN. 'Sdeath, do you make no difference between me and your +husband? + +MRS FORE. Not much,--he's superstitious, and you are mad, in my +opinion. + +SCAN. You make me mad. You are not serious. Pray recollect +yourself. + +MRS FORE. Oh yes, now I remember, you were very impertinent and +impudent,--and would have come to bed to me. + +SCAN. And did not? + +MRS FORE. Did not! With that face can you ask the question? + +SCAN. This I have heard of before, but never believed. I have been +told, she had that admirable quality of forgetting to a man's face +in the morning that she had lain with him all night, and denying +that she had done favours with more impudence than she could grant +'em. Madam, I'm your humble servant, and honour you.--You look +pretty well, Mr Foresight: how did you rest last night? + +FORE. Truly, Mr Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams and +distracted visions that I remember little. + +SCAN. 'Twas a very forgetting night. But would you not talk with +Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I'm apt to believe there +is something mysterious in his discourses, and sometimes rather +think him inspired than mad. + +FORE. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr Scandal, truly. I +am inclining to your Turkish opinion in this matter, and do +reverence a man whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to him. + +MRS FRAIL. Sister, do you stay with them; I'll find out my lover, +and give him his discharge, and come to you. O' my conscience, here +he comes. + + +SCENE XIII. + + +MRS FRAIL, BEN. + +BEN. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the calentures of the +sea are come ashore, for my part. + +MRS FRAIL. Mr Benjamin in choler! + +BEN. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found you. Mess, I +have had such a hurricane upon your account yonder. + +MRS FRAIL. My account; pray what's the matter? + +BEN. Why, father came and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced +thing as he would have me marry, so he asked what was the matter. +He asked in a surly sort of a way--it seems brother Val is gone mad, +and so that put'n into a passion; but what did I know that? what's +that to me?--so he asked in a surly sort of manner, and gad I +answered 'n as surlily. What thof he be my father, I an't bound +prentice to 'n; so faith I told 'n in plain terms, if I were minded +to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him. And for the young +woman that he provided for me, I thought it more fitting for her to +learn her sampler and make dirt-pies than to look after a husband; +for my part I was none of her man. I had another voyage to make, +let him take it as he will. + +MRS FRAIL. So, then, you intend to go to sea again? + +BEN. Nay, nay, my mind run upon you, but I would not tell him so +much. So he said he'd make my heart ache; and if so be that he +could get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, an +you play the fool and marry at these years, there's more danger of +your head's aching than my heart. He was woundy angry when I gave'n +that wipe. He hadn't a word to say, and so I left'n, and the green +girl together; mayhap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her himself, +with all my heart. + +MRS FRAIL. And were you this undutiful and graceless wretch to your +father? + +BEN. Then why was he graceless first? If I am undutiful and +graceless, why did he beget me so? I did not get myself. + +MRS FRAIL. O impiety! How have I been mistaken! What an inhuman, +merciless creature have I set my heart upon? Oh, I am happy to have +discovered the shelves and quicksands that lurk beneath that +faithless, smiling face. + +BEN. Hey toss! What's the matter now? Why, you ben't angry, be +you? + +MRS FRAIL. Oh, see me no more,--for thou wert born amongst rocks, +suckled by whales, cradled in a tempest, and whistled to by winds; +and thou art come forth with fins and scales, and three rows of +teeth, a most outrageous fish of prey. + +BEN. O Lord, O Lord, she's mad, poor young woman: love has turned +her senses, her brain is quite overset. Well-a-day, how shall I do +to set her to rights? + +MRS FRAIL. No, no, I am not mad, monster; I am wise enough to find +you out. Hadst thou the impudence to aspire at being a husband with +that stubborn and disobedient temper? You that know not how to +submit to a father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to +undergo a wife? I should have been finely fobbed indeed, very +finely fobbed. + +BEN. Harkee, forsooth; if so be that you are in your right senses, +d'ye see, for ought as I perceive I'm like to be finely fobbed,--if +I have got anger here upon your account, and you are tacked about +already. What d'ye mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking +my cheeks, and kissing and hugging, what would you sheer off so? +Would you, and leave me aground? + +MRS FRAIL. No, I'll leave you adrift, and go which way you will. + +BEN. What, are you false-hearted, then? + +MRS FRAIL. Only the wind's changed. + +BEN. More shame for you,--the wind's changed? It's an ill wind +blows nobody good,--mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these +be your tricks. What, did you mean all this while to make a fool of +me? + +MRS FRAIL. Any fool but a husband. + +BEN. Husband! Gad, I would not be your husband if you would have +me, now I know your mind: thof you had your weight in gold and +jewels, and thof I loved you never so well. + +MRS FRAIL. Why, can'st thou love, Porpuss? + +BEN. No matter what I can do; don't call names. I don't love you +so well as to bear that, whatever I did. I'm glad you show +yourself, mistress. Let them marry you as don't know you. Gad, I +know you too well, by sad experience; I believe he that marries you +will go to sea in a hen-pecked frigate--I believe that, young woman- +-and mayhap may come to an anchor at Cuckolds-Point; so there's a +dash for you, take it as you will: mayhap you may holla after me +when I won't come to. + +MRS FRAIL. Ha, ha, ha, no doubt on't.--MY TRUE LOVE IS GONE TO SEA. +[Sings] + + +SCENE XIV. + + +MRS FRAIL, MRS FORESIGHT. + +MRS FRAIL. O sister, had you come a minute sooner, you would have +seen the resolution of a lover: --honest Tar and I are parted;--and +with the same indifference that we met. O' my life I am half vexed +at the insensibility of a brute that I despised. + +MRS FORE. What then, he bore it most heroically? + +MRS FRAIL. Most tyrannically; for you see he has got the start of +me, and I, the poor forsaken maid, am left complaining on the shore. +But I'll tell you a hint that he has given me: Sir Sampson is +enraged, and talks desperately of committing matrimony himself. If +he has a mind to throw himself away, he can't do it more effectually +than upon me, if we could bring it about. + +MRS FORE. Oh, hang him, old fox, he's too cunning; besides, he +hates both you and me. But I have a project in my head for you, and +I have gone a good way towards it. I have almost made a bargain +with Jeremy, Valentine's man, to sell his master to us. + +MRS FRAIL. Sell him? How? + +MRS FORE. Valentine raves upon Angelica, and took me for her, and +Jeremy says will take anybody for her that he imposes on him. Now, +I have promised him mountains, if in one of his mad fits he will +bring you to him in her stead, and get you married together and put +to bed together; and after consummation, girl, there's no revoking. +And if he should recover his senses, he'll be glad at least to make +you a good settlement. Here they come: stand aside a little, and +tell me how you like the design. + + +SCENE XV. + + +MRS FORESIGHT, MRS FRAIL, VALENTINE, SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, and JEREMY. + +SCAN. And have you given your master a hint of their plot upon him? +[To JEREMY.] + +JERE. Yes, sir; he says he'll favour it, and mistake her for +Angelica. + +SCAN. It may make us sport. + +FORE. Mercy on us! + +VAL. Husht--interrupt me not--I'll whisper prediction to thee, and +thou shalt prophesy. I am Truth, and can teach thy tongue a new +trick. I have told thee what's past,--now I'll tell what's to come. +Dost thou know what will happen to-morrow?--Answer me not--for I +will tell thee. To-morrow, knaves will thrive through craft, and +fools through fortune, and honesty will go as it did, frost-nipt in +a summer suit. Ask me questions concerning to-morrow. + +SCAN. Ask him, Mr Foresight. + +FORE. Pray what will be done at court? + +VAL. Scandal will tell you. I am Truth; I never come there. + +FORE. In the city? + +VAL. Oh, prayers will be said in empty churches at the usual hours. +Yet you will see such zealous faces behind counters, as if religion +were to be sold in every shop. Oh, things will go methodically in +the city: the clocks will strike twelve at noon, and the horned +herd buzz in the exchange at two. Wives and husbands will drive +distinct trades, and care and pleasure separately occupy the family. +Coffee-houses will be full of smoke and stratagem. And the cropt +prentice, that sweeps his master's shop in the morning, may ten to +one dirty his sheets before night. But there are two things that +you will see very strange: which are wanton wives with their legs +at liberty, and tame cuckolds with chains about their necks. But +hold, I must examine you before I go further. You look +suspiciously. Are you a husband? + +FORE. I am married. + +VAL. Poor creature! Is your wife of Covent Garden parish? + +FORE. No; St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. + +VAL. Alas, poor man; his eyes are sunk, and his hands shrivelled; +his legs dwindled, and his back bowed: pray, pray, for a +metamorphosis. Change thy shape and shake off age; get thee Medea's +kettle and be boiled anew; come forth with lab'ring callous hands, a +chine of steel, and Atlas shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the +calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pedestals to stand erect +upon, and look matrimony in the face. Ha, ha, ha! That a man +should have a stomach to a wedding supper, when the pigeons ought +rather to be laid to his feet, ha, ha, ha! + +FORE. His frenzy is very high now, Mr Scandal. + +SCAN. I believe it is a spring tide. + +FORE. Very likely, truly. You understand these matters. Mr +Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with you about these things +which he has uttered. His sayings are very mysterious and +hieroglyphical. + +VAL. Oh, why would Angelica be absent from my eyes so long? + +JERE. She's here, sir. + +MRS FORE. Now, sister. + +MRS FRAIL. O Lord, what must I say? + +SCAN. Humour him, madam, by all means. + +VAL. Where is she? Oh, I see her--she comes, like riches, health, +and liberty at once, to a despairing, starving, and abandoned +wretch. Oh, welcome, welcome. + +MRS FRAIL. How d'ye, sir? Can I serve you? + +VAL. Harkee; I have a secret to tell you: Endymion and the moon +shall meet us upon Mount Latmos, and we'll be married in the dead of +night. But say not a word. Hymen shall put his torch into a dark +lanthorn, that it may be secret; and Juno shall give her peacock +poppy-water, that he may fold his ogling tail, and Argus's hundred +eyes be shut, ha! Nobody shall know but Jeremy. + +MRS FRAIL. No, no, we'll keep it secret, it shall be done +presently. + +VAL. The sooner the better. Jeremy, come hither--closer--that none +may overhear us. Jeremy, I can tell you news: Angelica is turned +nun, and I am turning friar, and yet we'll marry one another in +spite of the pope. Get me a cowl and beads, that I may play my +part,--for she'll meet me two hours hence in black and white, and a +long veil to cover the project, and we won't see one another's +faces, till we have done something to be ashamed of; and then we'll +blush once for all. + + +SCENE XVI. + + +[To them] TATTLE and ANGELICA. + +JERE. I'll take care, and - + +VAL. Whisper. + +ANG. Nay, Mr Tattle, if you make love to me, you spoil my design, +for I intend to make you my confidant. + +TATT. But, madam, to throw away your person--such a person!--and +such a fortune on a madman! + +ANG. I never loved him till he was mad; but don't tell anybody so. + +SCAN. How's this! Tattle making love to Angelica! + +TATT. Tell, madam? Alas, you don't know me. I have much ado to +tell your ladyship how long I have been in love with you--but +encouraged by the impossibility of Valentine's making any more +addresses to you, I have ventured to declare the very inmost passion +of my heart. O madam, look upon us both. There you see the ruins +of a poor decayed creature--here, a complete and lively figure, with +youth and health, and all his five senses in perfection, madam, and +to all this, the most passionate lover - + +ANG. O fie, for shame, hold your tongue. A passionate lover, and +five senses in perfection! When you are as mad as Valentine, I'll +believe you love me, and the maddest shall take me. + +VAL. It is enough. Ha! Who's here? + +FRAIL. O Lord, her coming will spoil all. [To JEREMY.] + +JERE. No, no, madam, he won't know her; if he should, I can +persuade him. + +VAL. Scandal, who are these? Foreigners? If they are, I'll tell +you what I think,--get away all the company but Angelica, that I may +discover my design to her. [Whisper.] + +SCAN. I will--I have discovered something of Tattle that is of a +piece with Mrs Frail. He courts Angelica; if we could contrive to +couple 'em together.--Hark'ee--[Whisper.] + +MRS FORE. He won't know you, cousin; he knows nobody. + +FORE. But he knows more than anybody. O niece, he knows things +past and to come, and all the profound secrets of time. + +TATT. Look you, Mr Foresight, it is not my way to make many words +of matters, and so I shan't say much,--but in short, d'ye see, I +will hold you a hundred pounds now, that I know more secrets than +he. + +FORE. How! I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr Tattle. +Pray, what do you know? + +TATT. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir? Read it in my face? No, +sir, 'tis written in my heart; and safer there, sir, than letters +writ in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no blab, +sir. + +VAL. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it about. They +are welcome, and I'll tell 'em so myself. [To SCANDAL.] What, do +you look strange upon me? Then I must be plain. [Coming up to +them.] I am Truth, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face. +[SCANDAL goes aside with JEREMY.] + +TATT. Do you know me, Valentine? + +VAL. You? Who are you? No, I hope not. + +TATT. I am Jack Tattle, your friend. + +VAL. My friend, what to do? I am no married man, and thou canst +not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow +money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend? + +TATT. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret. + +ANG. Do you know me, Valentine? + +VAL. Oh, very well. + +ANG. Who am I? + +VAL. You're a woman. One to whom heav'n gave beauty, when it +grafted roses on a briar. You are the reflection of heav'n in a +pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet +of lovely, spotless paper, when you first are born; but you are to +be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I +loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange +thing: I found out what a woman was good for. + +TATT. Ay, prithee, what's that? + +VAL. Why, to keep a secret. + +TATT. O Lord! + +VAL. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she should +tell, yet she is not to be believed. + +TATT. Hah! good again, faith. + +VAL. I would have music. Sing me the song that I like. + + +SONG + +Set by MR FINGER. + +I tell thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve, +And could again begin to love and live, +To you I should my earliest off'ring give; +I know my eyes would lead my heart to you, +And I should all my vows and oaths renew, +But to be plain, I never would be true. + +II. + +For by our weak and weary truth, I find, +Love hates to centre in a point assign'd? +But runs with joy the circle of the mind. +Then never let us chain what should be free, +But for relief of either sex agree, +Since women love to change, and so do we. + + +No more, for I am melancholy. [Walks musing.] + +JERE. I'll do't, sir. [To SCANDAL.] + +SCAN. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, +and do mischief. + +FORE. I will be directed by you. + +JERE. [To MRS FRAIL.] You'll meet, madam? I'll take care +everything shall be ready. + +MRS FRAIL. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee +nothing. + +TATT. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [To ANGELICA.] + +ANG. No, I'll stay with him; Mr Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr +Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait on you. + +TATT. Pox on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that. +Madam, will you do me the honour? + +MRS FORE. Mr Tattle might have used less ceremony. + + +SCENE XVII. + + +ANGELICA, VALENTINE, SCANDAL. + +SCAN. Jeremy, follow Tattle. + +ANG. Mr Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I had +a mind to be rid of Mr Tattle. + +SCAN. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which +you gave to Mr Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to +acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his +sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of +the discovery, and your ladyship to the free confession of your +inclinations. + +ANG. O heav'ns! You won't leave me alone with a madman? + +SCAN. No, madam; I only leave a madman to his remedy. + + +SCENE XVIII. + + +ANGELICA, VALENTINE. + +VAL. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin +to come to myself. + +ANG. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. [Aside.] + +VAL. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been +in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of +me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness and this motley livery, +only as the slave of love and menial creature of your beauty. + +ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor Valentine! + +VAL. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy +apart. The comedy draws toward an end, and let us think of leaving +acting and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own I +have at length deserved you should confess it. + +ANG. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you--for heav'n knows I pity +you, and could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have +striven; but that's too late. [Sighs.] + +VAL. What sad effects?--what's too late? My seeming madness has +deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to +reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his +estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have +resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone +before I knew you had been here. + +ANG. How! I thought your love of me had caused this transport in +your soul; which, it seems, you only counterfeited, for mercenary +ends and sordid interest. + +VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered +it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me +worthy of you. + +ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded by this +interval of sense to reason with a madman? + +VAL. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer. + + +SCENE XIX. + + +[To them] JEREMY. + +ANG. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the +impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and +confess your master's madness counterfeit. + +JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely +and substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as +mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe. + +VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad. + +ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it. + +JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own +it? + +VAL. Sot, can't you apprehend? + +ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now. + +JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he begins to look +wild again now. + +VAL. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, +and I will be mad no longer. [Beats him.] + +ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy? + +JERE. Partly, I think,--for he does not know his own mind two +hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad, and I +think I have not found him very quiet at this present. Who's there? +[One knocks.] + +VAL. Go see, you sot.--I'm very glad that I can move your mirth +though not your compassion. + +ANG. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptions. +But madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound +understanding, as drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was +half inclining to believe you, till I accidently touched upon your +tender part: but now you have restored me to my former opinion and +compassion. + +JERE. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet. +Will you please to be mad, sir, or how? + +VAL. Stupidity! You know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for +the confession of my senses; I'm mad, and will be mad to everybody +but this lady. + +JERE. So--just the very backside of truth,--but lying is a figure +in speech that interlards the greatest part of my conversation. +Madam, your ladyship's woman. + + +SCENE XX. + + +VALENTINE, ANGELICA, JENNY. + +ANG. Well, have you been there?--Come hither. + +JENNY. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. +[Aside to ANGELICA.] + +VAL. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty? + +ANG. Would anything but a madman complain of uncertainty? +Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an +insipid thing, and the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers +the folly of the chase. Never let us know one another better, for +the pleasure of a masquerade is done when we come to show our faces; +but I'll tell you two things before I leave you: I am not the fool +you take me for; and you are mad and don't know it. + + +SCENE XXI. + + +VALENTINE, JEREMY. + +VAL. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a riddle. There's my +instruction and the moral of my lesson. + +JERE. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope you understood one +another before she went? + +VAL. Understood! She is harder to be understood than a piece of +Egyptian antiquity or an Irish manuscript: you may pore till you +spoil your eyes and not improve your knowledge. + +JERE. I have heard 'em say, sir, they read hard Hebrew books +backwards; maybe you begin to read at the wrong end. + +VAL. They say so of a witch's prayer, and dreams and Dutch almanacs +are to be understood by contraries. But there's regularity and +method in that; she is a medal without a reverse or inscription, for +indifference has both sides alike. Yet, while she does not seem to +hate me, I will pursue her, and know her if it be possible, in spite +of the opinion of my satirical friend, Scandal, who says - + + +That women are like tricks by sleight of hand, +Which, to admire, we should not understand. + + + +ACT V.--SCENE I. + + + +A room in Foresight's house. + +ANGELICA and JENNY. + +ANG. Where is Sir Sampson? Did you not tell me he would be here +before me? + +JENNY. He's at the great glass in the dining-room, madam, setting +his cravat and wig. + +ANG. How! I'm glad on't. If he has a mind I should like him, it's +a sign he likes me; and that's more than half my design. + +JENNY. I hear him, madam. + +ANG. Leave me; and, d'ye hear, if Valentine should come, or send, I +am not to be spoken with. + + +SCENE II. + + +ANGELICA, SIR SAMPSON. + +SIR SAMP. I have not been honoured with the commands of a fair lady +a great while,--odd, madam, you have revived me,--not since I was +five-and-thirty. + +ANG. Why, you have no great reason to complain, Sir Sampson, that +is not long ago. + +SIR SAMP. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great while: to a man +that admires a fine woman as much as I do. + +ANG. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Sampson. + +SIR SAMP. Not at all, madam,--odsbud, you wrong me,--I am not so +old neither, to be a bare courtier, only a man of words. Odd, I +have warm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way. Come, +come, let me tell you, you women think a man old too soon, faith and +troth you do. Come, don't despise fifty; odd, fifty, in a hale +constitution, is no such contemptible age. + +ANG. Fifty a contemptible age! Not at all; a very fashionable age, +I think. I assure you, I know very considerable beaus that set a +good face upon fifty. Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side box by +candle-light out-blossom five-and-twenty. + +SIR SAMP. Outsides, outsides; a pize take 'em, mere outsides. Hang +your side-box beaus; no, I'm none of those, none of your forced +trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when they should +bring forth fruit: I am of a long-lived race, and inherit vigour; +none of my ancestors married till fifty, yet they begot sons and +daughters till fourscore: I am of your patriarchs, I, a branch of +one of your antedeluvian families, fellows that the flood could not +wash away. Well, madam, what are your commands? Has any young +rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat? Or - + +ANG. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upon my hands. I have more +occasion for your conduct than your courage at this time. To tell +you the truth, I'm weary of living single and want a husband. + +SIR SAMP. Odsbud, and 'tis pity you should. Odd, would she would +like me, then I should hamper my young rogues. Odd, would she +would; faith and troth she's devilish handsome. [Aside.] Madam, +you deserve a good husband, and 'twere pity you should be thrown +away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. Odd, +there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging--that is a very young +fellow. Pize on 'em, they never think beforehand of anything; and +if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murder, out of a +frolic, and are ready to hang themselves, or to be hanged by the +law, the next morning. Odso, have a care, madam. + +ANG. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Sampson. I have fortune +enough to make any man easy that I can like: if there were such a +thing as a young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of good +nature and sense--for I would neither have an absolute wit nor a +fool. + +SIR SAMP. Odd, you are hard to please, madam: to find a young +fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye +of the world, is a very hard task. But, faith and troth, you speak +very discreetly; for I hate both a wit and a fool. + +ANG. She that marries a fool, Sir Sampson, forfeits the reputation +of her honesty or understanding; and she that marries a very witty +man is a slave to the severity and insolent conduct of her husband. +I should like a man of wit for a lover, because I would have such an +one in my power; but I would no more be his wife than his enemy. +For his malice is not a more terrible consequence of his aversion +than his jealousy is of his love. + +SIR SAMP. None of old Foresight's sibyls ever uttered such a truth. +Odsbud, you have won my heart; I hate a wit: I had a son that was +spoiled among 'em, a good hopeful lad, till he learned to be a wit; +and might have risen in the state. But, a pox on't, his wit run him +out of his money, and now his poverty has run him out of his wits. + +ANG. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you you are very much +abused in that matter: he's no more mad than you are. + +SIR SAMP. How, madam! Would I could prove it. + +ANG. I can tell you how that may be done. But it is a thing that +would make me appear to be too much concerned in your affairs. + +SIR SAMP. Odsbud, I believe she likes me. [Aside.] Ah, madam, all +my affairs are scarce worthy to be laid at your feet; and I wish, +madam, they were in a better posture, that I might make a more +becoming offer to a lady of your incomparable beauty and merit. If +I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the Eastern +Empire under my feet, it would make me only a more glorious victim +to be offered at the shrine of your beauty. + +ANG. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the matter? + +SIR SAMP. Odd, madam, I love you. And if you would take my advice +in a husband - + +ANG. Hold, hold, Sir Sampson. I asked your advice for a husband, +and you are giving me your consent. I was indeed thinking to +propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine: +for if a match were seemingly carried on between you and me, it +would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness, in +apprehension of losing me: for you know he has long pretended a +passion for me. + +SIR SAMP. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance--if we were to go +through with it. But why must the match only be seemingly carried +on? Odd, let it be a real contract. + +ANG. Oh, fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world say? + +SIR SAMP. Say? They would say you were a wise woman and I a happy +man. Odd, madam, I'll love you as long as I live, and leave you a +good jointure when I die. + +ANG. Ay; but that is not in your power, Sir Sampson: for when +Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he must make over his +inheritance to his younger brother. + +SIR SAMP. Odd, you're cunning, a wary baggage! Faith and troth, I +like you the better. But, I warrant you, I have a proviso in the +obligation in favour of myself. Body o' me, I have a trick to turn +the settlement upon the issue male of our two bodies begotten. +Odsbud, let us find children and I'll find an estate! + +ANG. Will you? Well, do you find the estate and leave t'other to +me. + +SIR SAMP. O rogue! But I'll trust you. And will you consent? Is +it a match then? + +ANG. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this obligation, and if I +find what you propose practicable, I'll give you my answer. + +SIR SAMP. With all my heart: come in with me, and I'll lend you +the bond. You shall consult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. +Odzooks, I'm a young man--odzooks, I'm a young man, and I'll make it +appear,--odd, you're devilish handsome. Faith and troth, you're +very handsome, and I'm very young and very lusty. Odsbud, hussy, +you know how to choose, and so do I. Odd, I think we are very well +met. Give me your hand, odd, let me kiss it; 'tis as warm and as +soft--as what? Odd, as t'other hand--give me t'other hand, and I'll +mumble 'em and kiss 'em till they melt in my mouth. + +ANG. Hold, Sir Sampson. You're profuse of your vigour before your +time. You'll spend your estate before you come to it. + +SIR SAMP. No, no, only give you a rent-roll of my possessions. Ah, +baggage, I warrant you for little Sampson. Odd, Sampson's a very +good name for an able fellow: your Sampsons were strong dogs from +the beginning. + +ANG. Have a care and don't over-act your part. If you remember, +Sampson, the strongest of the name, pulled an old house over his +head at last. + +SIR SAMP. Say you so, hussy? Come, let's go then; odd, I long to +be pulling too; come away. Odso, here's somebody coming. + + +SCENE III. + + +TATTLE, JEREMY. + +TATT. Is not that she gone out just now? + +JERE. Ay, sir; she's just going to the place of appointment. Ah, +sir, if you are not very faithful and close in this business, you'll +certainly be the death of a person that has a most extraordinary +passion for your honour's service. + +TATT. Ay, who's that? + +JERE. Even my unworthy self, sir. Sir, I have had an appetite to +be fed with your commands a great while; and now, sir, my former +master having much troubled the fountain of his understanding, it is +a very plausible occasion for me to quench my thirst at the spring +of your bounty. I thought I could not recommend myself better to +you, sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty and fortune into +your arms, whom I have heard you sigh for. + +TATT. I'll make thy fortune; say no more. Thou art a pretty +fellow, and canst carry a message to a lady, in a pretty soft kind +of phrase, and with a good persuading accent. + +JERE. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oratory in my head: I +have been at Cambridge. + +TATT. Ay; 'tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an +university: but the education is a little too pedantic for a +gentleman. I hope you are secret in your nature: private, close, +ha? + +JERE. Oh, sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent: I'm as secret +as the head of Nilus. + +TATT. Ay? Who's he, though? A privy counsellor? + +JERE. O ignorance! [Aside.] A cunning Egyptian, sir, that with +his arms would overrun the country, yet nobody could ever find out +his head-quarters. + +TATT. Close dog! A good whoremaster, I warrant him: --the time +draws nigh, Jeremy. Angelica will be veiled like a nun, and I must +be hooded like a friar, ha, Jeremy? + +JERE. Ay, sir; hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the +quarry. It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed, and +she is so in love with him she'll comply with anything to please +him. Poor lady, I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when +she finds what a happy exchange she has made, between a madman and +so accomplished a gentleman. + +TATT. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy: you're a good friend to her, +poor creature. I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of +myself as compassion to her. + +JERE. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine woman with thirty +thousand pound from throwing herself away. + +TATT. So 'tis, faith; I might have saved several others in my time, +but, i'gad, I could never find in my heart to marry anybody before. + +JERE. Well, sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming, and meet +you in half a quarter of an hour with your disguise at your own +lodgings. You must talk a little madly: she won't distinguish the +tone of your voice. + +TATT. No, no; let me alone for a counterfeit. I'll be ready for +you. + + +SCENE IV. + + +TATTLE, MISS PRUE. + +MISS. O Mr Tattle, are you here? I'm glad I have found you; I have +been looking up and down for you like anything, till I'm as tired as +anything in the world. + +TATT. Oh, pox, how shall I get rid of this foolish girl? [Aside.] + +MISS. Oh, I have pure news, I can tell you, pure news. I must not +marry the seaman now--my father says so. Why won't you be my +husband? You say you love me, and you won't be my husband. And I +know you may be my husband now, if you please. + +TATT. Oh, fie, miss; who told you so, child? + +MISS. Why, my father. I told him that you loved me. + +TATT. Oh, fie, miss; why did you do so? And who told you so, +child? + +MISS. Who? Why, you did; did not you? + +TATT. Oh, pox, that was yesterday, miss, that was a great while +ago, child. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did +not so much as dream of the matter. + +MISS. Pshaw--oh, but I dreamt that it was so, though. + +TATT. Ay, but your father will tell you that dreams come by +contraries, child. Oh, fie; what, we must not love one another now. +Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing indeed. Fie, fie, you're a +woman now, and must think of a new man every morning and forget him +every night. No, no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with +the same rattle always. Oh, fie, marrying is a paw thing. + +MISS. Well, but don't you love me as well as you did last night +then? + +TATT. No, no, child, you would not have me. + +MISS. No? Yes, but I would, though. + +TATT. Pshaw, but I tell you you would not. You forget you're a +woman and don't know your own mind. + +MISS. But here's my father, and he knows my mind. + + +SCENE V. + + +[To them] FORESIGHT. + +FORE. O Mr Tattle, your servant, you are a close man; but methinks +your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted +with. Or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art? +Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a +resemblance of her; and the girl is like me. + +TATT. And so you would infer that you and I are alike? What does +the old prig mean? I'll banter him, and laugh at him, and leave +him. [Aside.] I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces. + +FORE. How? What? A wrong notion? How so? + +TATT. In the way of art: I have some taking features, not obvious +to vulgar eyes, that are indications of a sudden turn of good +fortune in the lottery of wives, and promise a great beauty and +great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private intrigue of +destiny, kept secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, from all +astrologers, and the stars themselves. + +FORE. How! I will make it appear that what you say is impossible. + +TATT. Sir, I beg your pardon, I'm in haste - + +FORE. For what? + +TATT. To be married, sir, married. + +FORE. Ay, but pray take me along with you, sir - + +TATT. No, sir; 'tis to be done privately. I never make confidants. + +FORE. Well, but my consent, I mean. You won't marry my daughter +without my consent? + +TATT. Who? I, sir? I'm an absolute stranger to you and your +daughter, sir. + +FORE. Hey day! What time of the moon is this? + +TATT. Very true, sir, and desire to continue so. I have no more +love for your daughter than I have likeness of you, and I have a +secret in my heart which you would be glad to know and shan't know, +and yet you shall know it, too, and be sorry for't afterwards. I'd +have you to know, sir, that I am as knowing as the stars, and as +secret as the night. And I'm going to be married just now, yet did +not know of it half an hour ago; and the lady stays for me, and does +not know of it yet. There's a mystery for you: I know you love to +untie difficulties. Or, if you can't solve this, stay here a +quarter of an hour, and I'll come and explain it to you. + + +SCENE VI. + + +FORESIGHT, MISS PRUE + +MISS. O father, why will you let him go? Won't you make him to be +my husband? + +FORE. Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend? Alas! he's mad, +child, stark wild. + +MISS. What, and must not I have e'er a husband, then? What, must I +go to bed to nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old +woman? Indeed but I won't. For now my mind is set upon a man, I +will have a man some way or other. Oh, methinks I'm sick when I +think of a man; and if I can't have one, I would go to sleep all my +life: for when I'm awake it makes me wish and long, and I don't +know for what. And I'd rather be always asleep than sick with +thinking. + +FORE. Oh, fearful! I think the girl's influenced too. Hussy, you +shall have a rod. + +MISS. A fiddle of a rod, I'll have a husband; and if you won't get +me one, I'll get one for myself. I'll marry our Robin the butler; +he says he loves me, and he's a handsome man, and shall be my +husband: I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me too, for he +told me so. + + +SCENE VII. + + +[To them] SCANDAL, MRS FORESIGHT, and NURSE. + +FORE. Did he so? I'll dispatch him for't presently. Rogue! O +nurse, come hither. + +NURSE. What is your worship's pleasure? + +FORE. Here, take your young mistress and lock her up presently, +till farther orders from me. Not a word, Hussy; do what I bid you, +no reply, away. And bid Robin make ready to give an account of his +plate and linen, d'ye hear: begone when I bid you. + +MRS FORE. What's the matter, husband? + +FORE. 'Tis not convenient to tell you now. Mr Scandal, heav'n keep +us all in our senses--I fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad. +How does Valentine? + +SCAN. Oh, I hope he will do well again. I have a message from him +to your niece Angelica. + +FORE. I think she has not returned since she went abroad with Sir +Sampson. Nurse, why are you not gone? + + +SCENE VIII. + + +FORESIGHT, SCANDAL, MRS FORESIGHT, BEN. + +MRS FORE. Here's Mr Benjamin, he can tell us if his father be come +home. + +BEN. Who? Father? Ay, he's come home with a vengeance. + +MRS FORE. Why, what's the matter? + +BEN. Matter! Why, he's mad. + +FORE. Mercy on us, I was afraid of this. And there's the handsome +young woman, she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she's mad +too, I think. + +FORE. Oh, my poor niece, my poor niece, is she gone too? Well, I +shall run mad next. + +MRS FORE. Well, but how mad? How d'ye mean? + +BEN. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess. I'll undertake to make a +voyage to Antegoa--no, hold; I mayn't say so, neither. But I'll +sail as far as Leghorn and back again before you shall guess at the +matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may take in all the points +of the compass, and not hit right. + +MRS FORE. Your experiment will take up a little too much time. + +BEN. Why, then, I'll tell you; there's a new wedding upon the +stocks, and they two are a-going to be married to rights. + +SCAN. Who? + +BEN. Why, father and--the young woman. I can't hit of her name. + +SCAN. Angelica? + +BEN. Ay, the same. + +MRS FORE. Sir Sampson and Angelica? Impossible! + +BEN. That may be--but I'm sure it is as I tell you. + +SCAN. 'Sdeath, it's a jest. I can't believe it. + +BEN. Look you, friend, it's nothing to me whether you believe it or +no. What I say is true, d'ye see, they are married, or just going +to be married, I know not which. + +FORE. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not lunatic? + +BEN. I don't know what you may call madness. But she's mad for a +husband, and he's horn mad, I think, or they'd ne'er make a match +together. Here they come. + + +SCENE IX. + + +[To them] SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, BUCKRAM. + +SIR SAMP. Where is this old soothsayer, this uncle of mine elect? +Aha, old Foresight, Uncle Foresight, wish me joy, Uncle Foresight, +double joy, both as uncle and astrologer; here's a conjunction that +was not foretold in all your Ephemeris. The brightest star in the +blue firmament--IS SHOT FROM ABOVE, IN A JELLY OF LOVE, and so +forth; and I'm lord of the ascendant. Odd, you're an old fellow, +Foresight; uncle, I mean, a very old fellow, Uncle Foresight: and +yet you shall live to dance at my wedding; faith and troth, you +shall. Odd, we'll have the music of the sphere's for thee, old +Lilly, that we will, and thou shalt lead up a dance in Via Lactea. + +FORE. I'm thunderstruck! You are not married to my niece? + +SIR SAMP. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it, within a +kiss of the matter, as you see. [Kisses ANGELICA.] + +ANG. 'Tis very true, indeed, uncle. I hope you'll be my father, +and give me. + +SIR SAMP. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes. Body o' me, he +shall be thy father, I'll make him thy father, and thou shalt make +me a father, and I'll make thee a mother, and we'll beget sons and +daughters enough to put the weekly bills out of countenance. + +SCAN. Death and hell! Where's Valentine? + + +SCENE X. + + +SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, BEN, BUCKRAM. + +MRS FORE. This is so surprising. + +SIR SAMP. How! What does my aunt say? Surprising, aunt? Not at +all for a young couple to make a match in winter: not at all. It's +a plot to undermine cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed +called a warming-pan. + +MRS FORE. I'm glad to hear you have so much fire in you, Sir +Sampson. + +BEN. Mess, I fear his fire's little better than tinder; mayhap it +will only serve to light up a match for somebody else. The young +woman's a handsome young woman, I can't deny it: but, father, if I +might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her. It's +just the same thing as if so be you should sail so far as the +Straits without provision. + +SIR SAMP. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To your +element, fish, be mute, fish, and to sea, rule your helm, sirrah, +don't direct me. + +BEN. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you mayn't keep +your new vessel steady. + +SIR SAMP. Why, you impudent tarpaulin! Sirrah, do you bring your +forecastle jests upon your father? But I shall be even with you, I +won't give you a groat. Mr Buckram, is the conveyance so worded +that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so +much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were +no way to come to it, but by the North-East Passage. + +BUCK. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions; there is not +the least cranny of the law unstopt. + +BEN. Lawyer, I believe there's many a cranny and leak unstopt in +your conscience. If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I +believe we should discover a foul hold. They say a witch will sail +in a sieve: but I believe the devil would not venture aboard o' +your conscience. And that's for you. + +SIR SAMP. Hold your tongue, sirrah. How now, who's here? + + +SCENE XI. + + +[To them] TATTLE and MRS FRAIL. + +MRS FRAIL. O sister, the most unlucky accident. + +MRS FORE. What's the matter? + +TATT. Oh, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in the world we +are. + +FORE. Bless us! How so? + +MRS FRAIL. Ah, Mr Tattle and I, poor Mr Tattle and I are--I can't +speak it out. + +TATT. Nor I. But poor Mrs Frail and I are - + +MRS FRAIL. Married. + +MRS FORE. Married! How? + +TATT. Suddenly--before we knew where we were--that villain Jeremy, +by the help of disguises, tricked us into one another. + +FORE. Why, you told me just now you went hence in haste to be +married. + +ANG. But I believe Mr Tattle meant the favour to me: I thank him. + +TATT. I did, as I hope to be saved, madam; my intentions were good. +But this is the most cruel thing, to marry one does not know how, +nor why, nor wherefore. The devil take me if ever I was so much +concerned at anything in my life. + +ANG. 'Tis very unhappy, if you don't care for one another. + +TATT. The least in the world--that is for my part: I speak for +myself. Gad, I never had the least thought of serious kindness.--I +never liked anybody less in my life. Poor woman! Gad, I'm sorry +for her too, for I have no reason to hate her neither; but I believe +I shall lead her a damned sort of a life. + +MRS FORE. He's better than no husband at all--though he's a +coxcomb. [To FRAIL.] + +MRS FRAIL [to her]. Ay, ay, it's well it's no worse.--Nay, for my +part I always despised Mr Tattle of all things; nothing but his +being my husband could have made me like him less. + +TATT. Look you there, I thought as much. Pox on't, I wish we could +keep it secret; why, I don't believe any of this company would speak +of it. + +MRS FRAIL. But, my dear, that's impossible: the parson and that +rogue Jeremy will publish it. + +TATT. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say. + +ANG. Oh, you'll agree very well in a little time; custom will make +it easy to you. + +TATT. Easy! Pox on't, I don't believe I shall sleep to-night. + +SIR SAMP. Sleep, quotha! No; why, you would not sleep o' your +wedding-night? I'm an older fellow than you, and don't mean to +sleep. + +BEN. Why, there's another match now, as thof a couple of privateers +were looking for a prize and should fall foul of one another. I'm +sorry for the young man with all my heart. Look you, friend, if I +may advise you, when she's going--for that you must expect, I have +experience of her--when she's going, let her go. For no matrimony +is tough enough to hold her; and if she can't drag her anchor along +with her, she'll break her cable, I can tell you that. Who's here? +The madman? + + +SCENE the Last. + + +VALENTINE, SCANDAL, SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, +TATTLE, MRS FRAIL, BEN, JEREMY, BUCKRAM. + +VAL. No; here's the fool, and if occasion be, I'll give it under my +hand. + +SIR SAMP. How now? + +VAL. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors, and ask your pardon. + +SIR SAMP. What, have you found your senses at last then? In good +time, sir. + +VAL. You were abused, sir: I never was distracted. + +FORE. How! Not mad! Mr Scandal - + +SCAN. No, really, sir. I'm his witness; it was all counterfeit. + +VAL. I thought I had reasons--but it was a poor contrivance, the +effect has shown it such. + +SIR SAMP. Contrivance! What, to cheat me? to cheat your father? +Sirrah, could you hope to prosper? + +VAL. Indeed, I thought, sir, when the father endeavoured to undo +the son, it was a reasonable return of nature. + +SIR SAMP. Very good, sir. Mr Buckram, are you ready? Come, sir, +will you sign and seal? + +VAL. If you please, sir; but first I would ask this lady one +question. + +SIR SAMP. Sir, you must ask me leave first. That lady? No, sir, +you shall ask that lady no questions till you have asked her +blessing, sir: that lady is to be my wife. + +VAL. I have heard as much, sir; but I would have it from her own +mouth. + +SIR SAMP. That's as much as to say I lie, sir, and you don't +believe what I say. + +VAL. Pardon me, sir. But I reflect that I very lately +counterfeited madness; I don't know but the frolic may go round. + +SIR SAMP. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him. Come, come, Mr +Buckram, the pen and ink. + +BUCK. Here it is, sir, with the deed; all is ready. [VALENTINE +goes to ANGELICA.] + +ANG. 'Tis true, you have a great while pretended love to me; nay, +what if you were sincere? Still you must pardon me if I think my +own inclinations have a better right to dispose of my person than +yours. + +SIR SAMP. Are you answered now, sir? + +VAL. Yes, sir. + +SIR SAMP. Where's your plot, sir? and your contrivance now, sir? +Will you sign, sir? Come, will you sign and seal? + +VAL. With all my heart, sir. + +SCAN. 'Sdeath, you are not mad indeed, to ruin yourself? + +VAL. I have been disappointed of my only hope, and he that loses +hope may part with anything. I never valued fortune but as it was +subservient to my pleasure, and my only pleasure was to please this +lady. I have made many vain attempts, and find at last that nothing +but my ruin can effect it; which, for that reason, I will sign to-- +give me the paper. + +ANG. Generous Valentine! [Aside.] + +BUCK. Here is the deed, sir. + +VAL. But where is the bond by which I am obliged to sign this? + +BUCK. Sir Sampson, you have it. + +ANG. No, I have it, and I'll use it as I would everything that is +an enemy to Valentine. [Tears the paper.] + +SIR SAMP. How now? + +VAL. Ha! + +ANG. Had I the world to give you, it could not make me worthy of so +generous and faithful a passion. Here's my hand: --my heart was +always yours, and struggled very hard to make this utmost trial of +your virtue. [To VALENTINE.] + +VAL. Between pleasure and amazement I am lost. But on my knees I +take the blessing. + +SIR SAMP. Oons, what is the meaning of this? + +BEN. Mess, here's the wind changed again. Father, you and I may +make a voyage together now. + +ANG. Well, Sir Sampson, since I have played you a trick, I'll +advise you how you may avoid such another. Learn to be a good +father, or you'll never get a second wife. I always loved your son, +and hated your unforgiving nature. I was resolved to try him to the +utmost; I have tried you too, and know you both. You have not more +faults than he has virtues, and 'tis hardly more pleasure to me that +I can make him and myself happy than that I can punish you. + +VAL. If my happiness could receive addition, this kind surprise +would make it double. + +SIR SAMP. Oons, you're a crocodile. + +FORE. Really, Sir Sampson, this is a sudden eclipse. + +SIR SAMP. You're an illiterate old fool, and I'm another. + +TATT. If the gentleman is in disorder for want of a wife, I can +spare him mine.--Oh, are you there, sir? I'm indebted to you for my +happiness. [To JEREMY.] + +JERE. Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons: 'twas an errant +mistake. You see, sir, my master was never mad, nor anything like +it. Then how could it be otherwise? + +VAL. Tattle, I thank you; you would have interposed between me and +heaven, but Providence laid purgatory in your way. You have but +justice. + +SCAN. I hear the fiddles that Sir Sampson provided for his own +wedding; methinks 'tis pity they should not be employed when the +match is so much mended. Valentine, though it be morning, we may +have a dance. + +VAL. Anything, my friend, everything that looks like joy and +transport. + +SCAN. Call 'em, Jeremy. + +ANG. I have done dissembling now, Valentine; and if that coldness +which I have always worn before you should turn to an extreme +fondness, you must not suspect it. + +VAL. I'll prevent that suspicion: for I intend to dote to that +immoderate degree that your fondness shall never distinguish itself +enough to be taken notice of. If ever you seem to love too much, it +must be only when I can't love enough. + +ANG. Have a care of promises; you know you are apt to run more in +debt than you are able to pay. + +VAL. Therefore I yield my body as your prisoner, and make your best +on't. + +SCAN. The music stays for you. [Dance.] + +SCAN. Well, madam, you have done exemplary justice in punishing an +inhuman father and rewarding a faithful lover. But there is a third +good work which I, in particular, must thank you for: I was an +infidel to your sex, and you have converted me. For now I am +convinced that all women are not like fortune, blind in bestowing +favours, either on those who do not merit or who do not want 'em. + +ANG. 'Tis an unreasonable accusation that you lay upon our sex: +you tax us with injustice, only to cover your own want of merit. +You would all have the reward of love, but few have the constancy to +stay till it becomes your due. Men are generally hypocrites and +infidels: they pretend to worship, but have neither zeal nor faith. +How few, like Valentine, would persevere even to martyrdom, and +sacrifice their interest to their constancy! In admiring me, you +misplace the novelty. + + +The miracle to-day is, that we find +A lover true; not that a woman's kind. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Love for Love by William Congreve + |