1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
|
<!DOCTYPE html
PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
<title>Love for Love, by William Congreve</title>
<style type="text/css">
/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */
<!--
P { margin-top: .75em;
margin-bottom: .75em;
}
P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;}
P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; }
.GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; }
H1, H2 {
text-align: center;
margin-top: 2em;
margin-bottom: 2em;
}
H3, H4, H5 {
text-align: center;
margin-top: 1em;
margin-bottom: 1em;
}
BODY{margin-left: 10%;
margin-right: 10%;
}
table { border-collapse: collapse; }
table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;}
td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;}
td p { margin: 0.2em; }
.blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */
.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;}
.pagenum {position: absolute;
left: 92%;
font-size: small;
text-align: right;
font-weight: normal;
color: gray;
}
img { border: none; }
img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; }
p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; }
div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; }
div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;}
div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%;
border-top: 1px solid; }
div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%;
border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;}
div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%;
margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid;
border-bottom: 1px solid; }
div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%;
margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid;
border-bottom: 1px solid;}
div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%;
border-top: 1px solid; }
.citation {vertical-align: super;
font-size: .8em;
text-decoration: none;}
img.floatleft { float: left;
margin-right: 1em;
margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; }
img.floatright { float: right;
margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em;
margin-bottom: 0.5em; }
img.clearcenter {display: block;
margin-left: auto;
margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em;
margin-bottom: 0.5em}
-->
/* XML end ]]>*/
</style>
</head>
<body>
<pre>
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Love for Love, by William Congreve
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
Title: Love for Love
A Comedy
Author: William Congreve
Release Date: January 27, 2015 [eBook #1244]
[This file was first posted on March 10, 1998]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE FOR LOVE***
</pre>
<p>Transcribed from the 1895 Methuen and Co. edition (<i>Comedies
of William Congreve</i>, <i>Volume</i> 2) by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
<h1>LOVE FOR LOVE<br />
<span class="GutSmall">A COMEDY</span></h1>
<blockquote><p><i>Nudus agris</i>, <i>nudus nummis
paternis</i>,<br />
<i>Insanire parat certa ratione modoque</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: right">—<span
class="smcap">Hor</span>.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2><span class="GutSmall">TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE</span><br />
CHARLES, EARL OF DORSET AND MIDDLESEX,<br />
<span class="GutSmall">LORD CHAMBERLAIN OF HIS MAJESTY’S
HOUSEHOLD,</span><br />
<span class="GutSmall">AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE
GARTER, ETC.</span></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">My Lord</span>,—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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 <i>now</i> 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.</p>
<p>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:—</p>
<blockquote><p><i>Nec minus considerabo quid aures ejus pati
possint</i>, <i>quam quid virtutibus debeatur</i>.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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,</p>
<p style="text-align: right">WILLIAM CONGREVE.</p>
<h2>PROLOGUE.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center">Spoken, at the opening of the new
house, by Mr. <span class="smcap">Betterton</span>.</p>
<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> husbandman in
vain renews his toil<br />
To cultivate each year a hungry soil;<br />
And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit,<br />
When what should feed the tree devours the root;<br />
Th’ unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth,<br />
Unless transplanted to more kindly earth.<br />
So the poor husbands of the stage, who found<br />
Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground,<br />
This last and only remedy have proved,<br />
And hope new fruit from ancient stocks removed.<br />
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,<br />
Well plant a soil which you so rich have made.<br />
As Nature gave the world to man’s first age,<br />
So from your bounty, we receive this stage;<br />
The freedom man was born to, you’ve restored,<br />
And to our world such plenty you afford,<br />
It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.<br />
But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way,<br />
And when but two were made, both went astray;<br />
Forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive,<br />
If in our larger family we grieve<br />
One falling Adam and one tempted Eve.<br />
We who remain would gratefully repay<br />
What our endeavours can, and bring this day<br />
The first-fruit offering of a virgin play.<br />
We hope there’s something that may please each taste,<br />
And though of homely fare we make the feast,<br />
Yet you will find variety at least.<br />
There’s humour, which for cheerful friends we got,<br />
And for the thinking party there’s a plot.<br />
We’ve something, too, to gratify ill-nature,<br />
(If there be any here), and that is satire.<br />
Though satire scarce dares grin, ’tis grown so mild<br />
Or only shows its teeth, as if it smiled.<br />
As asses thistles, poets mumble wit,<br />
And dare not bite for fear of being bit:<br />
They hold their pens, as swords are held by fools,<br />
And are afraid to use their own edge-tools.<br />
Since the Plain-Dealer’s scenes of manly rage,<br />
Not one has dared to lash this crying age.<br />
This time, the poet owns the bold essay,<br />
Yet hopes there’s no ill-manners in his play;<br />
And he declares, by me, he has designed<br />
Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind.<br />
And should th’ ensuing scenes not chance to hit,<br />
He offers but this one excuse, ’twas writ<br />
Before your late encouragement of wit.</p>
<h2>EPILOGUE.</h2>
<p>Spoken, at the opening of the new house, by Mrs. <span
class="smcap">Bracegirdle</span>.</p>
<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sure</span> Providence at
first designed this place<br />
To be the player’s refuge in distress;<br />
For still in every storm they all run hither,<br />
As to a shed that shields ’em from the weather.<br />
But thinking of this change which last befel us,<br />
It’s like what I have heard our poets tell us:<br />
For when behind our scenes their suits are pleading,<br />
To help their love, sometimes they show their reading;<br />
And, wanting ready cash to pay for hearts,<br />
They top their learning on us, and their parts.<br />
Once of philosophers they told us stories,<br />
Whom, as I think, they called—Py—Pythagories,<br />
I’m sure ’tis some such Latin name they give
’em,<br />
And we, who know no better, must believe ’em.<br />
Now to these men, say they, such souls were given,<br />
That after death ne’er went to hell nor heaven,<br />
But lived, I know not how, in beasts; and then<br />
When many years were past, in men again.<br />
Methinks, we players resemble such a soul,<br />
That does from bodies, we from houses stroll.<br />
Thus Aristotle’s soul, of old that was,<br />
May now be damned to animate an ass,<br />
Or in this very house, for ought we know,<br />
Is doing painful penance in some beau;<br />
And thus our audience, which did once resort<br />
To shining theatres to see our sport,<br />
Now find us tossed into a tennis-court.<br />
These walls but t’other day were filled with noise<br />
Of roaring gamesters and your dam’me boys;<br />
Then bounding balls and rackets they encompast,<br />
And now they’re filled with jests, and flights, and
bombast!<br />
I vow, I don’t much like this transmigration,<br />
Strolling from place to place by circulation;<br />
Grant heaven, we don’t return to our first station!<br />
I know not what these think, but for my part<br />
I can’t reflect without an aching heart,<br />
How we should end in our original, a cart.<br />
But we can’t fear, since you’re so good to save
us,<br />
That you have only set us up, to leave us.<br />
Thus from the past we hope for future grace,<br />
I beg it—<br />
And some here know I have a begging face.<br />
Then pray continue this your kind behaviour,<br />
For a clear stage won’t do, without your favour.</p>
<h2>DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.</h2>
<table>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">MEN.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Sir Sampson Legend</span>, father to
Valentine and Ben,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Underhill</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, fallen under his
father’s displeasure by his expensive way of living, in
love with Angelica,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Betterton</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>, his friend, a free
speaker,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Smith</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>, a half-witted beau,
vain of his amours, yet valuing himself for secrecy,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Bowman</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Ben</span>, Sir Sampson’s
younger son, half home-bred and half sea-bred, designed to marry
Miss Prue,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Dogget</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Foresight</span>, an illiterate old
fellow, peevish and positive, superstitious, and pretending to
understand astrology, palmistry, physiognomy, omens, dreams,
etc.; uncle to Angelica,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Sanford</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, servant to
Valentine,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Bowen</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Trapland</span>, a scrivener,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Triffusis</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Buckram</span>, a lawyer,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mr. Freeman</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td colspan="2"><p style="text-align: center">WOMEN.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Angelica</span>, niece to Foresight,
of a considerable fortune in her own hands,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Bracegirdle</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Foresight</span>, second wife to
Foresight,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Bowman</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>, sister to Mrs.
Foresight, a woman of the town,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Barry</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>, daughter to
Foresight by a former wife, a silly, awkward country girl,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Ayliff</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Nurse</span> to <span
class="smcap">Miss</span>,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Leigh</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><p><span class="smcap">Jenny</span>,</p>
</td>
<td><p><i>Mrs. Lawson</i>.</p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p style="text-align: center">A <span
class="smcap">Steward</span>, <span
class="smcap">Officers</span>, <span
class="smcap">Sailors</span>, <span class="smcap">and Several
Servants</span>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">The Scene in London.</p>
<h2>ACT I.—SCENE I.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>in his chamber
reading</i>. <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>
<i>waiting</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><i>Several books upon the
table</i>.</p>
<p>VAL. Jeremy.</p>
<p>JERE. Sir?</p>
<p>VAL. Here, take away. I’ll walk a turn and
digest what I have read.</p>
<p>JERE. You’ll grow devilish fat upon this paper
diet. [<i>Aside</i>, <i>and taking away the books</i>.]</p>
<p>VAL. And d’ye hear, go you to breakfast.
There’s a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast
for an emperor.</p>
<p>JERE. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write
receipts?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I
waited upon a gentleman at Cambridge. Pray what was that
Epictetus?</p>
<p>VAL. A very rich man.—Not worth a groat.</p>
<p>JERE. Humph, and so he has made a very fine feast, where
there is nothing to be eaten?</p>
<p>VAL. Yes.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. Nay, your condition is pretty even with theirs,
that’s the truth on’t.</p>
<p>VAL. I’ll take some of their trade out of their
hands.</p>
<p>JERE. Now heaven of mercy continue the tax upon
paper. You don’t mean to write?</p>
<p>VAL. Yes, I do. I’ll write a play.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>VAL. No, sirrah; you shall live with me still.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 <i>billet doux</i> 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.</p>
<p>VAL. Very well, sir; can you proceed?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE II.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. What, Jeremy holding forth?</p>
<p>VAL. The rogue has (with all the wit he could muster up)
been declaiming against wit.</p>
<p>SCAN. Ay? Why, then, I’m afraid Jeremy has
wit: for wherever it is, it’s always contriving its own
ruin.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>JERE. Ay, more indeed: for who cares for anybody that
has more wit than himself?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be
revenged.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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. [<i>One
knocks</i>.] Jeremy, see who’s there. [<span
class="smcap">Jer</span>. <i>goes to the door</i>.] But
tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say of
me, and my forced confinement?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. How now?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. What answer have you given ’em?</p>
<p>SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>VAL. What?</p>
<p>JERE. That they should be paid.</p>
<p>VAL. When?</p>
<p>JERE. To-morrow.</p>
<p>VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your
word?</p>
<p>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.
[<i>Knocking</i>.] Again! Sir, if you don’t
like my negotiation, will you be pleased to answer these
yourself?</p>
<p>VAL. See who they are.</p>
<h3>SCENE III.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Pox on her, could she find no other time to fling
my sins in my face? Here, give her this, [<i>gives
money</i>] 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.</p>
<p>SCAN. What, is it bouncing Margery, with my godson?</p>
<p>JERE. Yes, sir.</p>
<p>SCAN. My blessing to the boy, with this token [<i>gives
money</i>] 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE V.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Trapland</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>VAL. Oh, Mr. Trapland! My old friend!
Welcome. Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a
toast—fly—a chair first.</p>
<p>TRAP. A good morning to you, Mr. Valentine, and to you,
Mr. Scandal.</p>
<p>SCAN. The morning’s a very good morning, if you
don’t spoil it.</p>
<p>VAL. Come, sit you down, you know his way.</p>
<p>TRAP. [<i>sits</i>.] There is a debt, Mr.
Valentine, of £1500 of pretty long standing—</p>
<p>VAL. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty
palate. Sirrah, the sack.</p>
<p>TRAP. And I desire to know what course you have taken
for the payment?</p>
<p>VAL. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see
you. My service to you. Fill, fill to honest Mr.
Trapland—fuller.</p>
<p>TRAP. Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our
business. My service to you, Mr. Scandal.
[<i>Drinks</i>.] I have forborne as long—</p>
<p>VAL. T’other glass, and then we’ll
talk. Fill, Jeremy.</p>
<p>TRAP. No more, in truth. I have forborne, I
say—</p>
<p>VAL. Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does
your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her.
[<i>Drinks</i>.]</p>
<p>TRAP. Thank you. I have been out of this
money—</p>
<p>VAL. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not
drink? [<i>They drink</i>.]</p>
<p>TRAP. And, in short, I can be put off no longer.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TRAP. Fie, Mr. Scandal, you never knew—</p>
<p>SCAN. What don’t I know? I know the buxom
black widow in the Poultry. £800 a year jointure, and
£20,000 in money. Aha! old Trap.</p>
<p>VAL. Say you so, i’faith? Come, we’ll
remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to
the widow—</p>
<p>TRAP. No more, indeed.</p>
<p>VAL. What, the widow’s health; give it
him—off with it. [<i>They drink</i>.] A lovely
girl, i’faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby
lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million,
ha?</p>
<p>TRAP. No, no, there’s no such thing; we’d
better mind our business. You’re a wag.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You’re a
wag,—and here’s to the widow.
[<i>Drinks</i>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or
he’ll relapse into a dun.</p>
<h3>SCENE VI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Officer</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TRAP. Udso that’s true: Mr. Valentine, I love
mirth, but business must be done. Are you ready
to—</p>
<p>JERE. Sir, your father’s steward says he comes to
make proposals concerning your debts.</p>
<p>VAL. Bid him come in: Mr. Trapland, send away your
officer; you shall have an answer presently.</p>
<p>TRAP. Mr. Snap, stay within call.</p>
<h3>SCENE VII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Trapland</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>,<br />
<span class="smcap">Steward</span> <i>who whispers</i> <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TRAP. Mr. Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your
sack; but you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it.</p>
<p>SCAN. And how do you expect to have your money again
when a gentleman has spent it?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TRAP. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my
necessity—</p>
<p>VAL. No apology, good Mr. Scrivener, you shall be
paid.</p>
<p>TRAP. I hope you forgive me; my business
requires—</p>
<h3>SCENE VIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution.</p>
<p>VAL. But I have got a reprieve.</p>
<p>SCAN. I am surprised; what, does your father relent?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. A very desperate demonstration of your love to
Angelica; and I think she has never given you any assurance of
hers.</p>
<p>VAL. You know her temper; she never gave me any great
reason either for hope or despair.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. More misfortunes, sir.</p>
<p>VAL. What, another dun?</p>
<p>JERE. No, sir, but Mr. Tattle is come to wait upon
you.</p>
<p>VAL. Well, I can’t help it, you must bring him up;
he knows I don’t go abroad.</p>
<h3>SCENE X.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Pox on him, I’ll be gone.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Tattle</span>.</p>
<p>TATT. Valentine, good morrow; Scandal, I am
yours:—that is, when you speak well of me.</p>
<p>SCAN. That is, when I am yours; for while I am my own,
or anybody’s else, that will never happen.</p>
<p>TATT. How inhuman!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to deal
with are to be handled tenderly indeed.</p>
<p>TATT. Nay, but why rotten? Why should you say
rotten, when you know not the persons of whom you speak?
How cruel that is!</p>
<p>SCAN. Not know ’em? Why, thou never
had’st to do with anybody that did not stink to all the
town.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. And yet you have conversed with several.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. How?</p>
<p>VAL. Nay faith, I’m apt to believe him.
Except her husband, Tattle.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, that—</p>
<p>SCAN. What think you of that noble commoner, Mrs.
Drab?</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>SCAN. Whom we all know.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>SCAN. Grace!</p>
<p>TATT. O Lord, what have I said? My unlucky
tongue!</p>
<p>VAL. Ha, ha, ha.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>VAL. I confess this is something extraordinary.</p>
<p>TATT. Not a word, as I hope to be saved; an errant
<i>lapsus linguæ</i>. Come, let’s talk of
something else.</p>
<p>VAL. Well, but how did you acquit yourself?</p>
<p>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.
[<i>Hums a song</i>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. Hang him, let him alone, he has a mind we should
enquire.</p>
<p>TATT. Valentine, I supped last night with your mistress,
and her uncle, old Foresight: I think your father lies at
Foresight’s.</p>
<p>VAL. Yes.</p>
<p>TATT. Upon my soul, Angelica’s a fine woman.
And so is Mrs. Foresight, and her sister, Mrs. Frail.</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, Mrs. Frail is a very fine woman, we all know
her.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, that is not fair.</p>
<p>SCAN. What?</p>
<p>TATT. To tell.</p>
<p>SCAN. To tell what? Why, what do you know of Mrs.
Frail?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. No?</p>
<p>TATT. No.</p>
<p>SCAN. She says otherwise.</p>
<p>TATT. Impossible!</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. No doubt on’t. Well, but has she done
you wrong, or no? You have had her? Ha?</p>
<p>TATT. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I
have more manners than to contradict what a lady has
declared.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well, you own it?</p>
<p>TATT. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I
can’t deny’t if she taxes me with it.</p>
<p>SCAN. She’ll be here by and by, she sees Valentine
every morning.</p>
<p>TATT. How?</p>
<p>VAL. She does me the favour, I mean, of a visit
sometimes. I did not think she had granted more to
anybody.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>TATT. Nay, what do you mean, gentlemen?</p>
<p>SCAN. I’m resolved I’ll ask her.</p>
<p>TATT. O barbarous! Why did you not tell me?</p>
<p>SCAN. No; you told us.</p>
<p>TATT. And bid me ask Valentine?</p>
<p>VAL. What did I say? I hope you won’t bring
me to confess an answer when you never asked me the question?</p>
<p>TATT. But, gentlemen, this is the most inhuman
proceeding—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. Sir, Mrs. Frail has sent to know if you are
stirring.</p>
<p>VAL. Show her up when she comes.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Tattle</span>.</p>
<p>TATT. I’ll be gone.</p>
<p>VAL. You’ll meet her.</p>
<p>TATT. Is there not a back way?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>VAL. Scandal, have pity on him; he’ll yield to any
conditions.</p>
<p>TATT. Any, any terms.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. ’Tis very hard. Won’t a
baronet’s lady pass?</p>
<p>SCAN. No, nothing under a right honourable.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, inhuman! You don’t expect their
names?</p>
<p>SCAN. No, their titles shall serve.</p>
<p>TATT. Alas, that’s the same thing. Pray
spare me their titles. I’ll describe their
persons.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Well, first then—</p>
<h3>SCENE XIV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, unfortunate! She’s come already;
will you have patience till another time? I’ll double
the number.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well, on that condition. Take heed you
don’t fail me.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Tattle—</p>
<p>TATT. Mum. O madam, you do me too much honour.</p>
<p>VAL. Well, Lady Galloper, how does Angelica?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Angelica? Manners!</p>
<p>VAL. What, you will allow an absent lover—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. But what if he has more passion than manners?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Then let him marry and reform.</p>
<p>VAL. Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his
passion, but it very rarely mends a man’s manners.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Pox take ’em, their conjunction bodes me no
good, I’m sure.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Step into the next room, and I’ll give you
something.</p>
<p>SCAN. Ay, we’ll all give you something.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Well, what will you all give me?</p>
<p>VAL. Mine’s a secret.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. I thought you would give me something that
would be a trouble to you to keep.</p>
<p>VAL. And Scandal shall give you a good name.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. That’s more than he has for
himself. And what will you give me, Mr. Tattle?</p>
<p>TATT. I? My soul, madam.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. I have a pretty good collection, at your service,
some originals.</p>
<p>SCAN. Hang him, he has nothing but the Seasons and the
Twelve Cæsars—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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Ay, but I hear he has a closet of
beauties.</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes; all that have done him favours, if you will
believe him.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Ay, let me see those, Mr. Tattle.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, madam, those are sacred to love and
contemplation. No man but the painter and myself was ever
blest with the sight.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Well, but a woman—</p>
<p>TATT. Nor woman, till she consented to have her picture
there too—for then she’s obliged to keep the
secret.</p>
<p>SCAN. No, no; come to me if you’d see
pictures.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. You?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. O lying creature! Valentine, does not
he lie? I can’t believe a word he says.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Come, let’s hear ’em.</p>
<p>SCAN. Why, I have a beau in a <i>bagnio</i>, cupping for
a complexion, and sweating for a shape.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. So.</p>
<p>SCAN. Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with
a hackney coachman.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. O devil! Well, but that story is not
true.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. And no head?</p>
<p>SCAN. No head.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Pooh, this is all invention. Have you
never a poet?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Well, I’ll come, if it be but to
disprove you.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. Sir, here’s the steward again from your
father.</p>
<p>VAL. I’ll come to him—will you give me
leave? I’ll wait on you again presently.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. No; I’ll be gone. Come, who
squires me to the Exchange? I must call my sister Foresight
there.</p>
<p>SCAN. I will: I have a mind to your sister.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Civil!</p>
<p>TATT. I will: because I have a tendre for your
ladyship.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. That’s somewhat the better reason, to
my opinion.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well, if Tattle entertains you, I have the better
opportunity to engage your sister.</p>
<p>VAL. Tell Angelica I am about making hard conditions to
come abroad, and be at liberty to see her.</p>
<p>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</p>
<p class="poetry">Who hopes to purchase wealth by selling
land;<br />
Or win a mistress with a losing hand.</p>
<h2>ACT II.—SCENE I.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center"><i>A room in</i> <span
class="smcap">Foresight’s</span> <i>house</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Foresight</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Servant</span>.</p>
<p>FORE. Hey day! What, are all the women of my
family abroad? Is not my wife come home? Nor my
sister, nor my daughter?</p>
<p>SERV. No, sir.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SERV. Yes, sir.</p>
<p>FORE. I believe you lie, sir.</p>
<p>SERV. Sir?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SERV. I can’t tell indeed, sir.</p>
<p>FORE. No, I know you can’t, sir: but I can tell,
and foretell, sir.</p>
<h3>SCENE II.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Nurse</span>.</p>
<p>FORE. Nurse, where’s your young mistress?</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>FORE. Why, how now, what’s the matter?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE III.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span
class="smcap">Nurse</span>.</p>
<p>ANG. Is it not a good hour for pleasure too,
uncle? Pray lend me your coach; mine’s out of
order.</p>
<p>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:—</p>
<p class="poetry">‘When housewives all the house
forsake,<br />
And leave goodman to brew and bake,<br />
Withouten guile, then be it said,<br />
That house doth stand upon its head;<br />
And when the head is set in grond,<br />
Ne marl, if it be fruitful fond.’</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Well, but I can neither make you a cuckold, uncle,
by going abroad, nor secure you from being one by staying at
home.</p>
<p>FORE. Yes, yes; while there’s one woman left, the
prophecy is not in full force.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>FORE. Well, Jill-flirt, you are very pert, and always
ridiculing that celestial science.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Why, you malapert slut—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. How, hussy! Was there ever such a provoking
minx?</p>
<p>NURSE. O merciful father, how she talks!</p>
<p>ANG. Yes, I can make oath of your unlawful midnight
practices, you and the old nurse there—</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Crying</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. But there’s but one virgin among the twelve
signs, spitfire, but one virgin.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Ha, ha, ha!</p>
<p>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—</p>
<h3>SCENE IV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Servant</span>.</p>
<p>SERV. Sir Sampson is coming down to wait upon you.</p>
<p>ANG. Good-bye, uncle—call me a chair.
I’ll find out my aunt, and tell her she must not come
home.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>NURSE. Yes, sir,</p>
<p>FORE. Well—why, if I was born to be a cuckold,
there’s no more to be said—he’s here
already.</p>
<h3>SCENE V.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Sir Sampson Legend</span> <i>with a paper</i>.</p>
<p>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, <i>signatum</i>,
<i>sigillatum</i>, and <i>deliberatum</i>; 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.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. How, how? Sir Sampson, that all? Give
me leave to contradict you, and tell you you are ignorant.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. I tell you I am wise; and <i>sapiens
dominabitur astris</i>; 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.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. I know when travellers lie or speak truth, when
they don’t know it themselves.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. What, does he twit me with my wife too? I
must be better informed of this. [<i>Aside</i>.] Do
you mean my wife, Sir Sampson? Though you made a cuckold of
the king of Bantam, yet by the body of the sun—</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. By the horns of the moon, you would say,
brother Capricorn.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. But what do you know of my wife, Sir Sampson?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. How now, who sent for you? Ha!
What would you have?</p>
<p>FORE. Nay, if you were but in jest—who’s
that fellow? I don’t like his physiognomy.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. My son, sir; what son, sir? My son
Benjamin, hoh?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Well, sir.</p>
<h3>SCENE VII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. He is here, sir.</p>
<p>VAL. Your blessing, sir.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Ay, indeed, Sir Sampson, a great deal of money for
a young man; I wonder what he can do with it!</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Body o’ me, so do I. Hark ye,
Valentine, if there be too much, refund the superfluity; dost
hear, boy?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Sir, how, I beseech you, what were you pleased
to intimate, concerning indulgence?</p>
<p>VAL. Why, sir, that you would not go to the extremity of
the conditions, but release me at least from some part.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Oh, sir, I understand you—that’s
all, ha?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>VAL. Sir, I don’t deny it.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Sir, is this usage for your son?—For that old
weather-headed fool, I know how to laugh at him; but you,
sir—</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. You, sir; and you, sir: why, who are you,
sir?</p>
<p>VAL. Your son, sir.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. That’s more than I know, sir, and I
believe not.</p>
<p>VAL. Faith, I hope not.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>VAL. I would have an excuse for your barbarity and
unnatural usage.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. With all my heart: come, uncase, strip, and go
naked out of the world as you came into ’t.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Body o’ me, what a manyheaded monster
have I propagated!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. Nay, that’s as clear as the sun; I’ll
make oath of it before any justice in Middlesex.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Here’s a cormorant too.
’S’heart this fellow was not born with you? I
did not beget him, did I?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. The spleen, ha, ha, ha; a pox confound
you—solos or sonatas? ’Oons, whose son are
you? How were you engendered, muckworm?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. By your looks, you should go upstairs out of the
world too, friend.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Fortune was provident enough to supply all the
necessities of my nature, if I had my right of inheritance.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. I told you what your visit would come to.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. What have you to do to watch me?
’S’life I’ll do what I please.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. You will?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Nay, two or three turns, I’ll take my
oath.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Why, was I ever in any of those places?
What do you mean, sister?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Was I? What do you mean?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. You have been at a worse place.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. I at a worse place, and with a man!</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. I suppose you would not go alone to the
World’s End.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. The World’s End! What, do you
mean to banter me?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. I’ll swear you have a great deal of
confidence, and in my mind too much for the stage.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Very well, that will appear who has most; you
never were at the World’s End?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. No.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. You deny it positively to my face?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Your face, what’s your face?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. No matter for that, it’s as good a face
as yours.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Not by a dozen years’ wearing.
But I do deny it positively to your face, then.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. My bodkin!</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Nay, ’tis yours, look at it.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Well, if you go to that, where did you find
this bodkin? Oh, sister, sister! Sister every
way.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh, devil on’t, that I could not
discover her without betraying myself. [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Here ’tis, with all my heart.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE X.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Tattle</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss
Prue</span>.</p>
<p>MISS. Mother, mother, mother, look you here!</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Fie, fie, Miss, how you bawl! Besides,
I have told you, you must not call me mother.</p>
<p>MISS. What must I call you then, are you not my
father’s wife?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. O fie, Miss, you must not kiss and tell.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Fie, Miss; amongst your linen, you must
say. You must never say smock.</p>
<p>MISS. Why, it is not bawdy, is it, cousin?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh, demm you toad. I wish you
don’t persuade her out of her innocency.</p>
<p>TATT. Who, I, madam? O Lord, how can your ladyship
have such a thought? Sure, you don’t know me.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Ah devil, sly devil. He’s as
close, sister, as a confessor. He thinks we don’t
observe him.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. A cunning cur, how soon he could find out a
fresh, harmless creature; and left us, sister, presently.</p>
<p>TATT. Upon reputation</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. O Lord, I swear I would not for the
world—</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>MISS. How you love to jeer one, cousin.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Nay, why did we let him—my husband will
hang us. He’ll think we brought ’em
acquainted.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Come, faith, let us be gone. If my
brother Foresight should find us with them, he’d think so,
sure enough.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. I don’t care; I won’t be seen
in’t.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>,
<span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>.</p>
<p>MISS. What makes ’em go away, Mr. Tattle?
What do they mean, do you know?</p>
<p>TATT. Yes my dear; I think I can guess, but hang me if I
know the reason of it.</p>
<p>MISS. Come, must not we go too?</p>
<p>TATT. No, no, they don’t mean that.</p>
<p>MISS. No! What then? What shall you and I do
together?</p>
<p>TATT. I must make love to you, pretty Miss; will you let
me make love to you?</p>
<p>MISS. Yes, if you please.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. You must let me speak, Miss, you must not speak
first; I must ask you questions, and you must answer.</p>
<p>MISS. What, is it like the catechism? Come then,
ask me.</p>
<p>TATT. D’ye think you can love me?</p>
<p>MISS. Yes.</p>
<p>TATT. Pooh, pox, you must not say yes already; I
shan’t care a farthing for you then in a twinkling.</p>
<p>MISS. What must I say then?</p>
<p>TATT. Why you must say no, or you believe not, or you
can’t tell—</p>
<p>MISS. Why, must I tell a lie then?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>TATT. Hum—yes—but you must believe I speak
truth.</p>
<p>MISS. O Gemini! Well, I always had a great mind to
tell lies; but they frighted me, and said it was a sin.</p>
<p>TATT. Well, my pretty creature; will you make me happy
by giving me a kiss?</p>
<p>MISS. No, indeed; I’m angry at you. [<i>Runs
and kisses him</i>.]</p>
<p>TATT. Hold, hold, that’s pretty well, but you
should not have given it me, but have suffered me to have taken
it.</p>
<p>MISS. Well, we’ll do it again.</p>
<p>TATT. With all my heart.—Now then, my little
angel. [<i>Kisses her</i>.]</p>
<p>MISS. Pish.</p>
<p>TATT. That’s right,—again, my charmer.
[<i>Kisses again</i>.]</p>
<p>MISS. O fie, nay, now I can’t abide you.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MISS. No, indeed won’t I; but I’ll run
there, and hide myself from you behind the curtains.</p>
<p>TATT. I’ll follow you.</p>
<p>MISS. Ah, but I’ll hold the door with both hands,
and be angry;—and you shall push me down before you come
in.</p>
<p>TATT. No, I’ll come in first, and push you down
afterwards.</p>
<p>MISS. Will you? Then I’ll be more angry and
more complying.</p>
<p>TATT. Then I’ll make you cry out.</p>
<p>MISS. Oh, but you shan’t, for I’ll hold my
tongue.</p>
<p>TATT. O my dear apt scholar!</p>
<p>MISS. Well, now I’ll run and make more haste than
you.</p>
<p>TATT. You shall not fly so fast, as I’ll
pursue.</p>
<h2>ACT III.—SCENE I.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Nurse</span>
<i>alone</i>.</p>
<p>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? [<i>peeps</i>] 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 [<i>knocks</i>]. Od’s my life, won’t
you open the door? I’ll come in the back way.</p>
<h3>SCENE II.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>,
<span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>.</p>
<p>MISS. O Lord, she’s coming, and she’ll tell
my father; what shall I do now?</p>
<p>TATT. Pox take her; if she had stayed two minutes
longer, I should have wished for her coming.</p>
<p>MISS. O dear, what shall I say? Tell me, Mr.
Tattle, tell me a lie.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Thrusts
her in</i>, <i>and shuts the door</i>.]</p>
<h3>SCENE III.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>,
<span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>.</p>
<p>ANG. You can’t accuse me of inconstancy; I never
told you that I loved you.</p>
<p>VAL. But I can accuse you of uncertainty, for not
telling me whether you did or not.</p>
<p>ANG. You mistake indifference for uncertainty; I never
had concern enough to ask myself the question.</p>
<p>SCAN. Nor good-nature enough to answer him that did ask
you; I’ll say that for you, madam.</p>
<p>ANG. What, are you setting up for good-nature?</p>
<p>SCAN. Only for the affectation of it, as the women do
for ill-nature.</p>
<p>ANG. Persuade your friend that it is all
affectation.</p>
<p>SCAN. I shall receive no benefit from the opinion; for I
know no effectual difference between continued affectation and
reality.</p>
<p>TATT. [<i>coming up</i>]. Scandal, are you
in private discourse? Anything of secrecy? [<i>Aside
to</i> <span class="smcap">Scandal</span>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, but I dare trust you; we were talking of
Angelica’s love to Valentine. You won’t speak
of it.</p>
<p>TATT. No, no, not a syllable. I know that’s
a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.</p>
<p>SCAN. Ha, ha, ha!</p>
<p>ANG. What is, Mr. Tattle? I heard you say
something was whispered everywhere.</p>
<p>SCAN. Your love of Valentine.</p>
<p>ANG. How!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. My passion! And who told you of my passion,
pray sir?</p>
<p>SCAN. Why, is the devil in you? Did not I tell it
you for a secret?</p>
<p>TATT. Gadso; but I thought she might have been trusted
with her own affairs.</p>
<p>SCAN. Is that your discretion? Trust a woman with
herself?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. O the devil, what damned costive poet has given
thee this lesson of fustian to get by rote?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. O Lord! Yes, indeed, madam, several
times.</p>
<p>ANG. I swear I don’t think ’tis
possible.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Nay, now you’re ungrateful.</p>
<p>TATT. No, I hope not, ’tis as much ingratitude to
own some favours as to conceal others.</p>
<p>VAL. There, now it’s out.</p>
<p>ANG. I don’t understand you now. I thought
you had never asked anything but what a lady might modestly
grant, and you confess.</p>
<p>SCAN. So faith, your business is done here; now you may
go brag somewhere else.</p>
<p>TATT. Brag! O heavens! Why, did I name
anybody?</p>
<p>ANG. No; I suppose that is not in your power; but you
would if you could, no doubt on’t.</p>
<p>TATT. Not in my power, madam! What, does your
ladyship mean that I have no woman’s reputation in my
power?</p>
<p>SCAN. ’Oons, why, you won’t own it, will
you? [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. No?</p>
<p>VAL. Not once, I dare answer for him.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. No indeed, madam, you don’t know me at all,
I find. For sure my intimate friends would have
known—</p>
<p>ANG. Then it seems you would have told, if you had been
trusted.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. But whence comes the reputation of Mr.
Tattle’s secrecy, if he was never trusted?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Am I? Well, I freely confess I have resisted
a great deal of temptation.</p>
<p>TATT. And i’Gad, I have given some temptation that
has not been resisted.</p>
<p>VAL. Good.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. I am ready to plead not guilty for you; and guilty
for myself.</p>
<p>SCAN. So, why this is fair, here’s demonstration
with a witness.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Pooh, this proves nothing.</p>
<p>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 <i>valet de chambre</i>; 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.</p>
<p>VAL. It was there, I suppose, you got the nickname of
the Great Turk.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>SCAN. Mum, Tattle.</p>
<p>VAL. ’Sdeath, are not you ashamed?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Goes to the door</i>.]</p>
<p>TATT. For heaven’s sake, if you do guess, say
nothing; Gad, I’m very unfortunate.</p>
<p>SCAN. Pray sing the first song in the last new play.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">SONG.<br />
Set by Mr. John Eccles.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">I.</p>
<p class="poetry">A nymph and a swain to Apollo once prayed,<br
/>
The swain had been jilted, the nymph been betrayed:<br />
Their intent was to try if his oracle knew<br />
E’er a nymph that was chaste, or a swain that was true.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">II.</p>
<p class="poetry">Apollo was mute, and had like t’have been
posed,<br />
But sagely at length he this secret disclosed:<br />
He alone won’t betray in whom none will confide,<br />
And the nymph may be chaste that has never been tried.</p>
<h3>SCENE IV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Sir Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>, <span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>, <i>and</i>
<span class="smcap">Servant</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Now Miss, you shall see your husband.</p>
<p>MISS. Pish, he shall be none of my husband.
[<i>Aside to Frail</i>.]</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Hush. Well he shan’t; leave that
to me. I’ll beckon Mr. Tattle to us.</p>
<p>ANG. Won’t you stay and see your brother?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. I can’t. Resolution must come to me, or
I shall never have one.</p>
<p>SCAN. Come, Valentine, I’ll go with you;
I’ve something in my head to communicate to you.</p>
<h3>SCENE V.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Tattle</span>, <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>, <span class="smcap">Miss
Prue</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Ben Legend</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Servant</span>.</p>
<p>BEN. Where’s father?</p>
<p>SERV. There, sir, his back’s toward you.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. My son Ben! Bless thee, my dear
body. Body o’ me, thou art heartily welcome.</p>
<p>BEN. Thank you, father, and I’m glad to see
you.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Odsbud, and I’m glad to see thee; kiss
me, boy, kiss me again and again, dear Ben. [<i>Kisses
him</i>.]</p>
<p>BEN. So, so, enough, father, Mess, I’d rather kiss
these gentlewomen.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. And so thou shalt. Mrs. Angelica, my son
Ben.</p>
<p>BEN. Forsooth, if you please. [<i>Salutes
her</i>.] Nay, mistress, I’m not for dropping anchor
here; about ship, i’faith. [<i>Kisses
Frail</i>.] Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat—so
[<i>Kisses Miss</i>].</p>
<p>TATT. Sir, you’re welcome ashore.</p>
<p>BEN. Thank you, thank you, friend.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since
I saw thee.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Dick—body o’ me—Dick has
been dead these two years. I writ you word when you were at
Leghorn.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. No; I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not
marry for thy sake.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FRAIL. That would be pity—such a handsome young
gentleman.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Ben’s a wag.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. A very wag—Ben’s a very wag; only
a little rough, he wants a little polishing.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. I should not doubt that if you were master
of me.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. No, why so?</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>ANG. I swear, Mr. Benjamin is the veriest wag in
nature—an absolute sea-wit.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Nay, Ben has parts, but as I told you before,
they want a little polishing. You must not take anything
ill, madam.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Well, Miss, I have your promise. [<i>Aside
to Miss</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MISS. I can’t abide to be left alone; mayn’t
my cousin stay with me?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. No, no. Come, let’s away.</p>
<p>BEN. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman
mayn’t take a liking to me.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. I warrant thee, boy: come, come, we’ll
be gone; I’ll venture that.</p>
<h3>SCENE VII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Ben</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MISS. You need not sit so near one, if you have anything
to say, I can hear you farther off, I an’t deaf.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Sits farther off</i>.] 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.</p>
<p>MISS. I don’t know what to say to you, nor I
don’t care to speak with you at all.</p>
<p>BEN. No? I’m sorry for that. But pray
why are you so scornful?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MISS. I won’t be called names, nor I won’t
be abused thus, so I won’t. If I were a man
[<i>cries</i>]—you durst not talk at his rate. No,
you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel.</p>
<h3>SCENE VIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Foresight</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. They have quarrelled, just as we could
wish.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Bless me, what’s the matter,
Miss? What, does she cry? Mr. Benjamin, what have you
done to her?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Come, Miss, come along with me, and tell me,
poor child.</p>
<p>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? [<i>Looking kindly on him</i>.]</p>
<p>BEN. Venture, mess, and that I will, though ’twere
to sea in a storm.</p>
<h3>SCENE IX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Sir Sampson, we’ll have the wedding
to-morrow morning.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. With all my heart.</p>
<p>FORE. At ten a’clock, punctually at ten.</p>
<p>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 <i>consummatum est</i> shall ring all
over the parish.</p>
<h3>SCENE X.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Sir Sampson, sad news.</p>
<p>FORE. Bless us!</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Why, what’s the matter?</p>
<p>SCAN. Can’t you guess at what ought to afflict you
and him, and all of us, more than anything else?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. No. Undoubtedly, Mr. Foresight knew all
this, and might have prevented it.</p>
<p>FORE. ’Tis no earthquake!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Why, body o’ me, out with’t.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>,
<span class="smcap">Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>FORE. Ah, good Mr. Scandal—</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>FORE. Alas, Mr. Scandal,—<i>humanum est
errare</i>.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>FORE. You are learned, Mr. Scandal.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. I protest I honour you, Mr. Scandal. I did
not think you had been read in these matters. Few young men
are inclined—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. He was always of an impetuous nature. But as
to this marriage, I have consulted the stars, and all appearances
are prosperous—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. How?</p>
<p>SCAN. You are not satisfied, I say. I am loth to
discourage you, but it is palpable that you are not
satisfied.</p>
<p>FORE. How does it appear, Mr. Scandal? I think I
am very well satisfied.</p>
<p>SCAN. Either you suffer yourself to deceive yourself, or
you do not know yourself.</p>
<p>FORE. Pray explain yourself.</p>
<p>SCAN. Do you sleep well o’ nights?</p>
<p>FORE. Very well.</p>
<p>SCAN. Are you certain? You do not look so.</p>
<p>FORE. I am in health, I think.</p>
<p>SCAN. So was Valentine this morning; and looked just
so.</p>
<p>FORE. How? Am I altered any way? I
don’t perceive it.</p>
<p>SCAN. That may be, but your beard is longer than it was
two hours ago.</p>
<p>FORE. Indeed! Bless me!</p>
<h3>SCENE XII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Husband, will you go to bed? It’s
ten a’clock. Mr. Scandal, your servant.</p>
<p>SCAN. Pox on her, she has interrupted my
design—but I must work her into the project. You keep
early hours, madam.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Mr. Foresight is punctual; we sit up after
him.</p>
<p>FORE. My dear, pray lend me your glass, your little
looking-glass.</p>
<p>SCAN. Pray lend it him, madam. I’ll tell you
the reason.</p>
<p>[<i>She gives him the glass</i>: <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span> <i>and she whisper</i>.] 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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Was there ever such impudence, to make love
to me before my husband’s face? I’ll swear
I’ll tell him.</p>
<p>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.
[<i>Whisper</i>. <span class="smcap">Foresight</span>
<i>looking in the glass</i>.]</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>SCAN. It takes: pursue it in the name of love and
pleasure.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. How do you do, Mr. Foresight!</p>
<p>FORE. Hum, not so well as I thought I was. Lend me
your hand.</p>
<p>SCAN. Look you there now. Your lady says your
sleep has been unquiet of late.</p>
<p>FORE. Very likely.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh, mighty restless, but I was afraid to tell
him so. He has been subject to talking and starting.</p>
<p>SCAN. And did not use to be so?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Never, never, till within these three nights;
I cannot say that he has once broken my rest since we have been
married.</p>
<p>FORE. I will go to bed.</p>
<p>SCAN. Do so, Mr. Foresight, and say your prayers.
He looks better than he did.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Nurse, nurse!</p>
<p>FORE. Do you think so, Mr. Scandal?</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, yes. I hope this will be gone by
morning, taking it in time.</p>
<p>FORE. I hope so.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Nurse</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Nurse; your master is not well; put him to
bed.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. I thank you, Mr. Scandal, I will. Nurse, let
me have a watch-light, and lay the Crumbs of Comfort by me.</p>
<p>NURSE. Yes, sir.</p>
<p>FORE. And—hem, hem! I am very faint.</p>
<p>SCAN. No, no, you look much better.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. I thank you, Mr. Scandal, indeed that would be a
great comfort to me. Hem, hem! good night.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>,
<span class="smcap">Mrs. Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Good night, good Mr. Foresight; and I hope Mars
and Venus will be in conjunction;—while your wife and I are
together.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, faith I do; I have a better opinion both of
you and myself than to despair.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Did you ever hear such a toad?
Hark’ee, devil: do you think any woman honest?</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, several, very honest; they’ll cheat a
little at cards, sometimes, but that’s nothing.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Pshaw! but virtuous, I mean?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh, monstrous! What are conscience and
honour?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. An opportunity for pleasure?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. And so you think we are free for one
another?</p>
<p>SCAN. Yes, faith I think so; I love to speak my
mind.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. I have no great opinion of myself, but I think
I’m neither deformed nor a fool.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. But you have a villainous character: you are
a libertine in speech, as well as practice.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Ay; but you are such an universal juggler,
that I’m afraid you have a great many confederates.</p>
<p>SCAN. Faith, I’m sound.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh, fie—I’ll swear you’re
impudent.</p>
<p>SCAN. I’ll swear you’re handsome.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Pish, you’d tell me so, though you did
not think so.</p>
<p>SCAN. And you’d think so, though I should not tell
you so. And now I think we know one another pretty
well.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. O Lord, who’s here?</p>
<h3>SCENE XV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Ben</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>BEN. He, he, he; why, that’s true; just so for all
the world it is indeed, as like as two cable ropes.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. And though I have a good portion, you know
one would not venture all in one bottom.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Well, but if you should forsake me after
all, you’d break my heart.</p>
<p>BEN. Break your heart? I’d rather the
<i>Mary-gold</i> 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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. And will you love me always?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Hold, there’s my sister, I’ll
call her to hear it.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well; you’ll give me leave to wait upon you
to your chamber door, and leave you my last instructions?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Hold, here’s my sister coming towards
us.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. If it won’t interrupt you I’ll
entertain you with a song.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. I have heard of her.</p>
<p>BEN. [<i>Sings</i>]:—</p>
<p style="text-align: center">BALLAD.<br />
Set by <span class="smcap">Mr. John Eccles</span>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">I.</p>
<p class="poetry">A soldier and a sailor,<br />
A tinker and a tailor,<br />
Had once a doubtful strife, sir,<br />
To make a maid a wife, sir,<br />
Whose name was buxom Joan.<br />
For now the time was ended,<br />
When she no more intended<br />
To lick her lips at men, sir,<br />
And gnaw the sheets in vain, sir,<br />
And lie o’ nights alone.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">II.</p>
<p class="poetry">The soldier swore like thunder,<br />
He loved her more than plunder,<br />
And shewed her many a scar, sir,<br />
That he had brought from far, sir,<br />
With fighting for her sake.<br />
The tailor thought to please her<br />
With offering her his measure.<br />
The tinker, too, with mettle<br />
Said he could mend her kettle,<br />
And stop up ev’ry leak.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">III.</p>
<p class="poetry">But while these three were prating,<br />
The sailor slyly waiting,<br />
Thought if it came about, sir,<br />
That they should all fall out, sir,<br />
He then might play his part.<br />
And just e’en as he meant, sir,<br />
To loggerheads they went, sir,<br />
And then he let fly at her<br />
A shot ’twixt wind and water,<br />
That won this fair maid’s heart.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Whistles</i>.] I warrant that
brings ’em, an they be within hearing. [<i>Enter
seamen</i>]. Oh, here they be—and fiddles along
with ’em. Come, my lads, let’s have a round,
and I’ll make one. [<i>Dance</i>.]</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Oh, you are the happiest, merriest men
alive.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. We’re beholden to Mr. Benjamin for this
entertainment. I believe it’s late.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Mr. Scandal, you had best go to bed and dream
too.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p class="poetry">There’s nought but willing, waking love,
that can<br />
Make blest the ripened maid and finished man.</p>
<h2>ACT IV.—SCENE I.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center"><i>Valentine’s
lodging</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well, is your master ready? does he look madly and
talk madly?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Would he have Angelica acquainted with the reason
of his design?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. I saw her take coach just now with her maid, and
think I heard her bid the coachman drive hither.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Well, I’ll try her:—’tis
she—here she comes.</p>
<h3>SCENE II.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span> <i>with</i> <span
class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. I don’t like raillery from a serious
face. Pray tell me what is the matter?</p>
<p>JERE. No strange matter, madam; my master’s mad,
that’s all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him
so a great while.</p>
<p>ANG. How d’ye mean, mad?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. If you speak truth, your endeavouring at wit is
very unseasonable.</p>
<p>SCAN. She’s concerned, and loves him.
[<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Faith, madam, I wish telling a lie would mend the
matter. But this is no new effect of an unsuccessful
passion.</p>
<p>ANG. [<i>Aside</i>.] I know not what to
think. Yet I should be vexed to have a trick put upon
me. May I not see him?</p>
<p>SCAN. I’m afraid the physician is not willing you
should see him yet. Jeremy, go in and enquire.</p>
<h3>SCENE III.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>,
<span class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. [<i>Aside</i>.] 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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Hey, brave woman, i’faith—won’t
you see him, then, if he desire it?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. So, faith, good nature works apace; you were
confessing just now an obligation to his love.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>,
<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Humh! An admirable composition, faith, this
same womankind.</p>
<p>JERE. What, is she gone, sir?</p>
<p>SCAN. Gone? Why, she was never here, nor anywhere
else; nor I don’t know her if I see her, nor you
neither.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE V.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>,
<span class="smcap">Sir Sampson Legend</span>, <i>with a</i>
<span class="smcap">Lawyer</span>.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. D’ye see, Mr. Buckram, here’s the
paper signed with his own hand.</p>
<p>BUCK. Good, sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn
in this box, if he be ready to sign and seal.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>JERE. Ah sir, he’s quite gone.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Gone! What, he is not dead?</p>
<p>JERE. No, sir, not dead.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. What, is he gone out of town, run away, ha?
has he tricked me? Speak, varlet.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Hey day, rascal, do you banter me?
Sirrah, d’ye banter me? Speak, sirrah, where is he?
for I will find him.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Mad!</p>
<p>BUCK. What, is he <i>non compos</i>?</p>
<p>JERE. Quite <i>non compos</i>, sir.</p>
<p>BUCK. Why, then, all’s obliterated, Sir Sampson,
if he be <i>non compos mentis</i>; his act and deed will be of no
effect, it is not good in law.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Oons, I won’t believe it; let me see
him, sir. Mad—I’ll make him find his
senses.</p>
<p>JERE. Mr. Scandal is with him, sir; I’ll knock at
the door.</p>
<p>[<i>Goes to the scene</i>, <i>which opens</i>.]</p>
<h3>SCENE VI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lawyer</span>. <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>upon a couch disorderly
dressed</i>.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. How now, what’s here to do?</p>
<p>VAL. Ha! Who’s that?
[<i>Starting</i>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. For heav’n’s sake softly, sir, and
gently; don’t provoke him.</p>
<p>VAL. Answer me: who is that, and that?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Body o’ me, I know not what to say to
him.</p>
<p>VAL. Why does that lawyer wear black? Does he
carry his conscience withoutside? Lawyer what art
thou? Dost thou know me?</p>
<p>BUCK. O Lord, what must I say? Yes, sir,</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Body o’ me, he talks sensibly in his
madness. Has he no intervals?</p>
<p>JERE. Very short, sir.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Hold, hold, don’t you go yet.</p>
<p>SCAN. You’d better let him go, sir, and send for
him if there be occasion; for I fancy his presence provokes him
more.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. He recovers—bless thee, Val; how dost
thou do, boy?</p>
<p>VAL. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a
little out of order, Won’t you please to sit, sir?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Ay, boy. Come, thou shalt sit down by
me.</p>
<p>VAL. Sir, ’tis my duty to wait.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. I thank you, sir.</p>
<p>SCAN. Miracle! The monster grows loving.
[<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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. [<i>In whisper to</i> <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.]</p>
<h3>SCENE VIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any
remorse! [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know
thou’rt honest, and wilt perform articles. [<i>Shows
him the paper</i>, <i>but holds it out of his reach</i>.]</p>
<p>VAL. Pray let me see it, sir. You hold it so far
off that I can’t tell whether I know it or no.</p>
<p>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.
[<i>Reads</i>.] <i>The condition of this
obligation</i>—Look you, as plain as can be, so it
begins—and then at the bottom—<i>As witness my
hand</i>, <span class="smcap">VALENTINE LEGEND</span>, 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. [<i>Stretches his arm as far as he can</i>.]</p>
<p>VAL. Will you please to let me hold it, sir?</p>
<p>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. [<i>Puts the paper in
his pocket</i>.] 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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span> <i>with</i> <span
class="smcap">Buckram</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>BUCK. O Lord, let me begone: I’ll not venture
myself with a madman.</p>
<h3>SCENE X.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>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
<i>in forma pauperis</i> presently.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Oons! What a vexation is here! I
know not what to do, or say, nor which way to go.</p>
<p>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.
<i>Probatum est</i>. 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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget
sons? Why did I ever marry?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Why, my opinion is, that those two monsters
joined together, make yet a greater, that’s a man and his
wife.</p>
<p>VAL. Aha! Old True-penny, say’st thou
so? Thou hast nicked it. But it’s wonderful
strange, Jeremy.</p>
<p>JERE. What is, sir?</p>
<p>VAL. That gray hairs should cover a green head—and
I make a fool of my father. What’s here!
<i>Erra Pater</i>: or a bearded sibyl? If Prophecy comes,
Truth must give place.</p>
<h3>SCENE XI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Miss
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>.</p>
<p>FORE. What says he? What, did he prophesy?
Ha, Sir Sampson, bless us! How are we?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Scandal</span>,
<span class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>.</p>
<p>FORE. Ah, Sir Sampson, heav’n help your
head. This is none of your lucky hour; <i>Nemo omnibus
horis sapit</i>. What, is he gone, and in contempt of
science? Ill stars and unconvertible ignorance attend
him.</p>
<p>SCAN. You must excuse his passion, Mr. Foresight, for he
has been heartily vexed. His son is <i>non compos
mentis</i>, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in
law; so that all his measures are disappointed.</p>
<p>FORE. Ha! say you so?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of
hope, then? [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>.]</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. O sister, what will you do with him?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this?
[<i>Considers</i>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. Madam, you and I can tell him something else that
he did not foresee, and more particularly relating to his own
fortune. [<i>Aside to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>.]</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. What do you mean? I don’t
understand you.</p>
<p>SCAN. Hush, softly,—the pleasures of last night,
my dear, too considerable to be forgot so soon.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Last night! And what would your
impudence infer from last night? Last night was like the
night before, I think.</p>
<p>SCAN. ’Sdeath, do you make no difference between
me and your husband?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Not much,—he’s superstitious, and
you are mad, in my opinion.</p>
<p>SCAN. You make me mad. You are not serious.
Pray recollect yourself.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Oh yes, now I remember, you were very
impertinent and impudent,—and would have come to bed to
me.</p>
<p>SCAN. And did not?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Did not! With that face can you ask the
question?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>FORE. Truly, Mr. Scandal, I was so taken up with broken
dreams and distracted visions that I remember little.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>, <span class="smcap">Ben</span>.</p>
<p>BEN. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the
calentures of the sea are come ashore, for my part.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Mr. Benjamin in choler!</p>
<p>BEN. No, I’m pleased well enough, now I have found
you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane upon your account
yonder.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. My account; pray what’s the
matter?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. So, then, you intend to go to sea again?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. And were you this undutiful and graceless
wretch to your father?</p>
<p>BEN. Then why was he graceless first? If I am
undutiful and graceless, why did he beget me so? I did not
get myself.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>BEN. Hey toss! What’s the matter now?
Why, you ben’t angry, be you?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. No, I’ll leave you adrift, and go
which way you will.</p>
<p>BEN. What, are you false-hearted, then?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Only the wind’s changed.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Any fool but a husband.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Why, can’st thou love, Porpuss?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Ha, ha, ha, no doubt on’t.—<i>My
true love is gone to sea</i>. [<i>Sings</i>]</p>
<h3>SCENE XIV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. What then, he bore it most heroically?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Sell him? How?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>, <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. And have you given your master a hint of their
plot upon him? [<i>To</i> <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.]</p>
<p>JERE. Yes, sir; he says he’ll favour it, and
mistake her for Angelica.</p>
<p>SCAN. It may make us sport.</p>
<p>FORE. Mercy on us!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Ask him, Mr. Foresight.</p>
<p>FORE. Pray what will be done at court?</p>
<p>VAL. Scandal will tell you. I am Truth; I never
come there.</p>
<p>FORE. In the city?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>FORE. I am married.</p>
<p>VAL. Poor creature! Is your wife of Covent Garden
parish?</p>
<p>FORE. No; St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>FORE. His frenzy is very high now, Mr. Scandal.</p>
<p>SCAN. I believe it is a spring tide.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Oh, why would Angelica be absent from my eyes so
long?</p>
<p>JERE. She’s here, sir.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Now, sister.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. O Lord, what must I say?</p>
<p>SCAN. Humour him, madam, by all means.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. How d’ye, sir? Can I serve
you?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. No, no, we’ll keep it secret, it shall
be done presently.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XVI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Tattle</span> <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>.</p>
<p>JERE. I’ll take care, and—</p>
<p>VAL. Whisper.</p>
<p>ANG. Nay, Mr. Tattle, if you make love to me, you spoil
my design, for I intend to make you my confidant.</p>
<p>TATT. But, madam, to throw away your person—such a
person!—and such a fortune on a madman!</p>
<p>ANG. I never loved him till he was mad; but don’t
tell anybody so.</p>
<p>SCAN. How’s this! Tattle making love to
Angelica!</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. It is enough. Ha! Who’s here?</p>
<p>FRAIL. O Lord, her coming will spoil all.
[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.]</p>
<p>JERE. No, no, madam, he won’t know her; if he
should, I can persuade him.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Whisper</i>.]</p>
<p>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—[<i>Whisper</i>.]</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. He won’t know you, cousin; he knows
nobody.</p>
<p>FORE. But he knows more than anybody. O niece, he
knows things past and to come, and all the profound secrets of
time.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. How! I cannot read that knowledge in your
face, Mr. Tattle. Pray, what do you know?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it
about. They are welcome, and I’ll tell ’em so
myself. [<i>To</i> <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.] What, do you look strange
upon me? Then I must be plain. [<i>Coming up to
them</i>.] I am Truth, and hate an old acquaintance with a
new face. [<span class="smcap">Scandal</span> <i>goes aside
with</i> <span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.]</p>
<p>TATT. Do you know me, Valentine?</p>
<p>VAL. You? Who are you? No, I hope not.</p>
<p>TATT. I am Jack Tattle, your friend.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>TATT. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted
with a secret.</p>
<p>ANG. Do you know me, Valentine?</p>
<p>VAL. Oh, very well.</p>
<p>ANG. Who am I?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Ay, prithee, what’s that?</p>
<p>VAL. Why, to keep a secret.</p>
<p>TATT. O Lord!</p>
<p>VAL. Oh, exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she
should tell, yet she is not to be believed.</p>
<p>TATT. Hah! good again, faith.</p>
<p>VAL. I would have music. Sing me the song that I
like.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">SONG<br />
Set by <span class="smcap">Mr. Finger</span>.</p>
<p class="poetry">I tell thee, Charmion, could I time
retrieve,<br />
And could again begin to love and live,<br />
To you I should my earliest off’ring give;<br />
I know my eyes would lead my heart to you,<br />
And I should all my vows and oaths renew,<br />
But to be plain, I never would be true.</p>
<p style="text-align: center">II.</p>
<p class="poetry">For by our weak and weary truth, I find,<br />
Love hates to centre in a point assign’d?<br />
But runs with joy the circle of the mind.<br />
Then never let us chain what should be free,<br />
But for relief of either sex agree,<br />
Since women love to change, and so do we.</p>
<p>No more, for I am melancholy. [<i>Walks musing</i>.]</p>
<p>JERE. I’ll do’t, sir. [<i>To</i> <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.]</p>
<p>SCAN. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He may
grow outrageous, and do mischief.</p>
<p>FORE. I will be directed by you.</p>
<p>JERE. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>.] You’ll meet, madam? I’ll
take care everything shall be ready.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I
will deny thee nothing.</p>
<p>TATT. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Angelica</span>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Pox on’t, there’s no coming off, now
she has said that. Madam, will you do me the honour?</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Mr. Tattle might have used less ceremony.</p>
<h3>SCENE XVII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>.</p>
<p>SCAN. Jeremy, follow Tattle.</p>
<p>ANG. Mr. Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and
because I had a mind to be rid of Mr. Tattle.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. O heav’ns! You won’t leave me
alone with a madman?</p>
<p>SCAN. No, madam; I only leave a madman to his
remedy.</p>
<h3>SCENE XVIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>.</p>
<p>VAL. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I
fancy I begin to come to myself.</p>
<p>ANG. Ay, but if I don’t fit you, I’ll be
hanged. [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor
Valentine!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. [<i>Sighs</i>.] 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. [<i>Sighs</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I
deluded by this interval of sense to reason with a madman?</p>
<p>VAL. Oh, ’tis barbarous to misunderstand me
longer.</p>
<h3>SCENE XIX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.</p>
<p>ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.</p>
<p>JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad
enough to own it?</p>
<p>VAL. Sot, can’t you apprehend?</p>
<p>ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.</p>
<p>JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he
begins to look wild again now.</p>
<p>VAL. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce
is done, and I will be mad no longer. [<i>Beats
him</i>.]</p>
<p>ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?</p>
<p>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? [<i>One
knocks</i>.]</p>
<p>VAL. Go see, you sot.—I’m very glad that I
can move your mirth though not your compassion.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any
better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</p>
<p>ANG. Well, have you been there?—Come hither.</p>
<p>JENNY. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you
presently. [<i>Aside to</i> <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>.]</p>
<p>VAL. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE XXI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>VAL. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a
riddle. There’s my instruction and the moral of my
lesson.</p>
<p>JERE. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope
you understood one another before she went?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. I have heard ’em say, sir, they read hard
Hebrew books backwards; maybe you begin to read at the wrong
end.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p class="poetry">That women are like tricks by sleight of
hand,<br />
Which, to admire, we should not understand.</p>
<h2>ACT V.—SCENE I.</h2>
<p style="text-align: center"><i>A room in Foresight’s
house</i>.</p>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Angelica</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Jenny</span>.</p>
<p>ANG. Where is Sir Sampson? Did you not tell me he
would be here before me?</p>
<p>JENNY. He’s at the great glass in the dining-room,
madam, setting his cravat and wig.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JENNY. I hear him, madam.</p>
<p>ANG. Leave me; and, d’ye hear, if Valentine should
come, or send, I am not to be spoken with.</p>
<h3>SCENE II.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Why, you have no great reason to complain, Sir
Sampson, that is not long ago.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great while:
to a man that admires a fine woman as much as I do.</p>
<p>ANG. You’re an absolute courtier, Sir Sampson.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Aside</i>.] 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. How, madam! Would I could prove it.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Odsbud, I believe she likes me.
[<i>Aside</i>.] 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.</p>
<p>ANG. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what’s the matter?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Odd, madam, I love you. And if you would
take my advice in a husband—</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Oh, fie, Sir Sampson, what would the world say?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>ANG. Will you? Well, do you find the estate and
leave t’other to me.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. O rogue! But I’ll trust you.
And will you consent? Is it a match then?</p>
<p>ANG. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this
obligation, and if I find what you propose practicable,
I’ll give you my answer.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Hold, Sir Sampson. You’re profuse of
your vigour before your time. You’ll spend your
estate before you come to it.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE III.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>,
<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.</p>
<p>TATT. Is not that she gone out just now?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Ay, who’s that?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric and oratory in
my head: I have been at Cambridge.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>JERE. Oh, sir, for that, sir, ’tis my chief
talent: I’m as secret as the head of Nilus.</p>
<p>TATT. Ay? Who’s he, though? A privy
counsellor?</p>
<p>JERE. O ignorance! [<i>Aside</i>.] A cunning
Egyptian, sir, that with his arms would overrun the country, yet
nobody could ever find out his head-quarters.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JERE. ’Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine
woman with thirty thousand pound from throwing herself away.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. No, no; let me alone for a counterfeit.
I’ll be ready for you.</p>
<h3>SCENE IV.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Tattle</span>,
<span class="smcap">Miss Prue</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, pox, how shall I get rid of this foolish
girl? [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, fie, miss; who told you so, child?</p>
<p>MISS. Why, my father. I told him that you loved
me.</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, fie, miss; why did you do so? And who
told you so, child?</p>
<p>MISS. Who? Why, you did; did not you?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MISS. Pshaw—oh, but I dreamt that it was so,
though.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MISS. Well, but don’t you love me as well as you
did last night then?</p>
<p>TATT. No, no, child, you would not have me.</p>
<p>MISS. No? Yes, but I would, though.</p>
<p>TATT. Pshaw, but I tell you you would not. You
forget you’re a woman and don’t know your own
mind.</p>
<p>MISS. But here’s my father, and he knows my
mind.</p>
<h3>SCENE V.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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. [<i>Aside</i>.]
I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces.</p>
<p>FORE. How? What? A wrong notion? How
so?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. How! I will make it appear that what you say
is impossible.</p>
<p>TATT. Sir, I beg your pardon, I’m in
haste—</p>
<p>FORE. For what?</p>
<p>TATT. To be married, sir, married.</p>
<p>FORE. Ay, but pray take me along with you,
sir—</p>
<p>TATT. No, sir; ’tis to be done privately. I
never make confidants.</p>
<p>FORE. Well, but my consent, I mean. You
won’t marry my daughter without my consent?</p>
<p>TATT. Who? I, sir? I’m an absolute
stranger to you and your daughter, sir.</p>
<p>FORE. Hey day! What time of the moon is this?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Miss
Prue</span>.</p>
<p>MISS. O father, why will you let him go?
Won’t you make him to be my husband?</p>
<p>FORE. Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend?
Alas! he’s mad, child, stark wild.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Oh, fearful! I think the girl’s
influenced too. Hussy, you shall have a rod.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE VII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <i>and</i> <span
class="smcap">Nurse</span>.</p>
<p>FORE. Did he so? I’ll dispatch him
for’t presently. Rogue! O nurse, come
hither.</p>
<p>NURSE. What is your worship’s pleasure?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. What’s the matter, husband?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>SCAN. Oh, I hope he will do well again. I have a
message from him to your niece Angelica.</p>
<p>FORE. I think she has not returned since she went abroad
with Sir Sampson. Nurse, why are you not gone?</p>
<h3>SCENE VIII.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Ben</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Here’s Mr. Benjamin, he can tell us if
his father be come home.</p>
<p>BEN. Who? Father? Ay, he’s come home
with a vengeance.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Why, what’s the matter?</p>
<p>BEN. Matter! Why, he’s mad.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Oh, my poor niece, my poor niece, is she gone
too? Well, I shall run mad next.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Well, but how mad? How d’ye
mean?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Your experiment will take up a little too
much time.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Who?</p>
<p>BEN. Why, father and—the young woman. I
can’t hit of her name.</p>
<p>SCAN. Angelica?</p>
<p>BEN. Ay, the same.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Sir Sampson and Angelica?
Impossible!</p>
<p>BEN. That may be—but I’m sure it is as I
tell you.</p>
<p>SCAN. ’Sdeath, it’s a jest. I
can’t believe it.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>FORE. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not
lunatic?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<h3>SCENE IX.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Sir Sampson</span>, <span
class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Buckram</span>.</p>
<p>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—<i>is shot from above</i>, <i>in a jelly of
love</i>, 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.</p>
<p>FORE. I’m thunderstruck! You are not married
to my niece?</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near
it, within a kiss of the matter, as you see. [<i>Kisses</i>
<span class="smcap">Angelica</span>.]</p>
<p>ANG. ’Tis very true, indeed, uncle. I hope
you’ll be my father, and give me.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SCAN. Death and hell! Where’s Valentine?</p>
<h3>SCENE X.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Ben</span>, <span
class="smcap">Buckram</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. This is so surprising.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. I’m glad to hear you have so much fire
in you, Sir Sampson.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>BEN. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you
mayn’t keep your new vessel steady.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>BUCK. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions;
there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Hold your tongue, sirrah. How now,
who’s here?</p>
<h3>SCENE XI.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center">[<i>To them</i>] <span
class="smcap">Tattle</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Frail</span>.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. O sister, the most unlucky accident.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. What’s the matter?</p>
<p>TATT. Oh, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in the
world we are.</p>
<p>FORE. Bless us! How so?</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tattle and I
are—I can’t speak it out.</p>
<p>TATT. Nor I. But poor Mrs. Frail and I
are—</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. Married.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. Married! How?</p>
<p>TATT. Suddenly—before we knew where we
were—that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, tricked
us into one another.</p>
<p>FORE. Why, you told me just now you went hence in haste
to be married.</p>
<p>ANG. But I believe Mr. Tattle meant the favour to me: I
thank him.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. ’Tis very unhappy, if you don’t care
for one another.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FORE. He’s better than no husband at
all—though he’s a coxcomb. [<i>To</i> <span
class="smcap">Frail</span>.]</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL [<i>to her</i>]. 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MRS. FRAIL. But, my dear, that’s impossible: the
parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish it.</p>
<p>TATT. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say.</p>
<p>ANG. Oh, you’ll agree very well in a little time;
custom will make it easy to you.</p>
<p>TATT. Easy! Pox on’t, I don’t believe
I shall sleep to-night.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<h3>SCENE <i>the Last</i>.</h3>
<p style="text-align: center"><span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span
class="smcap">Scandal</span>, <span class="smcap">Sir
Sampson</span>, <span class="smcap">Angelica</span>, <span
class="smcap">Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Foresight</span>, <span class="smcap">Tattle</span>, <span
class="smcap">Mrs. Frail</span>, <span class="smcap">Ben</span>,
<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>, <span
class="smcap">Buckram</span>.</p>
<p>VAL. No; here’s the fool, and if occasion be,
I’ll give it under my hand.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. How now?</p>
<p>VAL. Sir, I’m come to acknowledge my errors, and
ask your pardon.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. What, have you found your senses at last
then? In good time, sir.</p>
<p>VAL. You were abused, sir: I never was distracted.</p>
<p>FORE. How! Not mad! Mr. Scandal—</p>
<p>SCAN. No, really, sir. I’m his witness; it
was all counterfeit.</p>
<p>VAL. I thought I had reasons—but it was a poor
contrivance, the effect has shown it such.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Contrivance! What, to cheat me? to cheat
your father? Sirrah, could you hope to prosper?</p>
<p>VAL. Indeed, I thought, sir, when the father endeavoured
to undo the son, it was a reasonable return of nature.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Very good, sir. Mr. Buckram, are you
ready? Come, sir, will you sign and seal?</p>
<p>VAL. If you please, sir; but first I would ask this lady
one question.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. I have heard as much, sir; but I would have it from
her own mouth.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. That’s as much as to say I lie, sir, and
you don’t believe what I say.</p>
<p>VAL. Pardon me, sir. But I reflect that I very
lately counterfeited madness; I don’t know but the frolic
may go round.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him.
Come, come, Mr. Buckram, the pen and ink.</p>
<p>BUCK. Here it is, sir, with the deed; all is
ready. [<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>goes to</i>
<span class="smcap">Angelica</span>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Are you answered now, sir?</p>
<p>VAL. Yes, sir.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Where’s your plot, sir? and your
contrivance now, sir? Will you sign, sir? Come, will
you sign and seal?</p>
<p>VAL. With all my heart, sir.</p>
<p>SCAN. ’Sdeath, you are not mad indeed, to ruin
yourself?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Generous Valentine! [<i>Aside</i>.]</p>
<p>BUCK. Here is the deed, sir.</p>
<p>VAL. But where is the bond by which I am obliged to sign
this?</p>
<p>BUCK. Sir Sampson, you have it.</p>
<p>ANG. No, I have it, and I’ll use it as I would
everything that is an enemy to Valentine. [<i>Tears the
paper</i>.]</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. How now?</p>
<p>VAL. Ha!</p>
<p>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. [<i>To</i> <span
class="smcap">Valentine</span>.]</p>
<p>VAL. Between pleasure and amazement I am lost. But
on my knees I take the blessing.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Oons, what is the meaning of this?</p>
<p>BEN. Mess, here’s the wind changed again.
Father, you and I may make a voyage together now.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. If my happiness could receive addition, this kind
surprise would make it double.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. Oons, you’re a crocodile.</p>
<p>FORE. Really, Sir Sampson, this is a sudden eclipse.</p>
<p>SIR SAMP. You’re an illiterate old fool, and
I’m another.</p>
<p>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. [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Jeremy</span>.]</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>VAL. Tattle, I thank you; you would have interposed
between me and heaven, but Providence laid purgatory in your
way. You have but justice.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>VAL. Anything, my friend, everything that looks like joy
and transport.</p>
<p>SCAN. Call ’em, Jeremy.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>ANG. Have a care of promises; you know you are apt to
run more in debt than you are able to pay.</p>
<p>VAL. Therefore I yield my body as your prisoner, and
make your best on’t.</p>
<p>SCAN. The music stays for you. [<i>Dance</i>.]</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p class="poetry">The miracle to-day is, that we find<br />
A lover true; not that a woman’s kind.</p>
<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE FOR LOVE***</p>
<pre>
***** This file should be named 1244-h.htm or 1244-h.zip******
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/2/4/1244
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country outside the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
are located before using this ebook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
provided that
* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation."
* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
works.
* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
</pre></body>
</html>
|
