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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16740-8.txt b/16740-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1f5868 --- /dev/null +++ b/16740-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4452 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Busie Body, by Susanna Centlivre + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Busie Body + +Author: Susanna Centlivre + +Commentator: Jess Byrd + +Release Date: September 24, 2005 [EBook #16740] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + The Augustan Reprint Society + + + SUSANNA CENTLIVRE + _THE BUSIE BODY_ + (1709) + + With an Introduction by + Jess Byrd + + + Publication Number 19 + (Series V, No. 3) + + + + + Los Angeles + William Andrews Clark Memorial Library + University of California + 1949 + + + * * * * * + +_GENERAL EDITORS_ + + +H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_ +RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ +EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ +H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_ + + +_ASSISTANT EDITOR_ + +W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_ + + +_ADVISORY EDITORS_ + +EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ +BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_ +LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ +CLEANTH BROOKS, _Yale University_ +JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ +ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ +SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ +ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_ +JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_ + + * * * * * + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Susanna Centlivre (1667?-1723) in _The Busie Body_ (1709) contributed +to the stage one of the most successful comedies of intrigue of the +eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This play, written when there was a +decided trend in England toward sentimental drama, shows Mrs. Centlivre +a strong supporter of laughing comedy. She had turned for a time to +sentimental comedy and with one of her three sentimental plays, _The +Gamester_ (1704), had achieved a great success. But her true bent seems +to have been toward realistic comedies, chiefly of intrigue: of her +nineteen plays written from 1700 to 1723, ten are realistic comedies. +Three of these proved very popular in her time and enjoyed a long stage +history: _The Busie Body_ (1709); _The Wonder: A Woman Keeps a Secret_ +(1714); and _A Bold Stroke for a Wife_ (1717). _The Busie Body_ best +illustrates Mrs. Centlivre's preference for laughing comedy with an +improved moral tone. The characters and the plot are amusing but +inoffensive, and, compared to those of Restoration drama, satisfy the +desire of the growing eighteenth-century middle-class audience for +respectability on the stage. + +The theory of comedy on which _The Busie Body_ rests is a traditional +one, but Mrs. Centlivre's simple pronouncements on the virtues of +realistic over sentimental comedy are interesting because of the +controversy on this subject among critics and writers at this time. In +the preface to her first play, _The Perjur'd Husband_ (1700), she takes +issue with Jeremy Collier on the charge of immorality in realistic +plays. The stage, she believes, should present characters as they are; +it is unreasonable to expect a "Person, whose inclinations are always +forming Projects to the Dishonor of her Husband, should deliver her +Commands to her Confident in the Words of a Psalm." In a letter written +in 1700 she says: "I think the main design of Comedy is to make us +laugh." (Abel Boyer, _Letters of Wit, Politicks, and Morality_, London, +1701, p. 362). But, she adds, since Collier has taught religion to the +"Rhiming Trade, the Comick Muse in Tragick Posture sat" until she +discovered Farquhar, whose language is amusing but decorous and whose +plots are virtuous. This insistence on decorum and virtue indicates a +concession to Collier and to the public. Thus in the preface to _Love's +Contrivance_ (1703), she reiterates her belief that comedy should amuse +but adds that she strove for a "modest stile" which might not "disoblige +the nicest ear." This modest style, not practiced in early plays, is +achieved admirably in _The Busie Body_. Yet, as she says in the +epilogue, she has not followed the critics who balk the pleasure of +the audience to refine their taste; her play will with "good humour, +pleasure crown the Night." In dialogue, in plot, and particularly in +the character of the amusing but inoffensive Marplot, she fulfills her +simple theory of comedy designed not for reform but for laughter. + +Mrs. Centlivre followed the practices of her contemporaries in borrowing +the plot for _The Busie Body_. The three sources for the play are: _The +Devil Is an Ass_ (1616) by Jonson; _L'Etourdi_ (1658) by Molière; and +_Sir Martin Mar-all or The Feigned Innocence_ (1667) by Dryden. From +_The Devil Is an Ass_, Mrs. Centlivre borrowed minor details and two +episodes, one of them the amusing dumb scene. This scene, though a close +imitation, seems more amusing in _The Busie Body_ than in Jonson's play, +perhaps because the characters, especially Sir Francis Gripe and +Miranda, are more credible and more fully portrayed. From the second +source for _The Busie Body_, Molière's _L'Etourdi_, I believe Mrs. +Centlivre borrowed the framework for her parallel plots, the theme of +Marplot's blundering, and the name and general character of Marplot. But +she has improved what she borrowed. She places in Molière's framework +more credible women characters than his, especially in the charming +Miranda and the crafty Patch; she constructs a more skillful intrigue +plot for the stage than his subplot and emphasizes Spanish customs in +the lively Charles-Isabinda-Traffick plot. Mrs. Centlivre concentrates +on Marplot's blundering, whereas Molière concentrates on the servant +Mascarille's schemes. Marplot's funniest blunder, in the "monkey" scene, +is entirely original as far as I know (IV, iv). But her greatest change +is in the character of Marplot, who in her hands becomes not so much +stupid as human and irresistibly ludicrous. Mrs. Centlivre's style is +of course inferior to that of Molière. In the preface to _Love's +Contrivance_ (1703), in speaking of borrowings from Molière, she said +that borrowers "must take care to touch the Colors with an English +Pencil, and form the Piece according to our Manners." Of course her +touching the "Colors with an English Pencil" meant changing the style +of Molière to suit the less delicate taste of the middle-class English +audience. + +A third source for _The Busie Body_ is Dryden's _Sir Martin Mar-all_ +(1667). Since Dryden followed Molière with considerable exactness, it +would be difficult to prove beyond doubt that Mrs. Centlivre borrowed +from Molière rather than from Dryden. Yet I believe, after a careful +analysis of the plays, that she borrowed from Molière. She made of _The +Busie Body_ a comedy of intrigue based on the theme and plot used by +both Molière and Dryden, but she omitted the scandalous Restoration +third plot which Dryden had added to Molière. Her characters are English +in speech and action, but they lack the coarseness apparent in Dryden's +_Sir Martin Mar-all_. Though it is impossible to prove the exact sources +of Mrs. Centlivre's borrowings, there is no doubt that she has improved +what she borrowed. + +Whatever the truth may be about Mrs. Centlivre's use of her sources, her +play remained in the repertory of acting plays long after _L'Etourdi_ +and _Sir Martin Mar-all_ had disappeared. _The Busie Body_ opened at the +Drury Lane Theater on May 12, 1709. Steele, who listed the play in _The +Tatler_ for May 14, 1709, does not mention the length of the run. Thomas +Whincop says that the play ran thirteen nights (_Scanderbeg_, London, +1747, p. 190), but Genest says the play had an opening run of seven +nights (_Some Account of the English Stage from the Restoration in 1660 +to 1830_, II, 419). The play remained popular throughout the eighteenth +and nineteenth centuries. Genest lists it as being presented in +twenty-three seasons from 1709 to 1800. It was certainly presented much +more frequently than this record shows, for Dougald MacMillan in _The +Drury Lane Calendar_ lists fifty-three performances from 1747-1776, +whereas Genest records two performances in this period. The greatest +number of performances in any season was fourteen in 1758-59, the year +David Garrick appeared in the play. From the records available _The +Busie Body_ seems to have reached its greatest popularity in England +in the middle and late eighteenth century and the early part of the +nineteenth century. William Hazlitt, in the "Prefatory Remarks" to the +Oxberry acting edition of 1819, says _The Busie Body_ has been acted a +"thousand times in town and country, giving delight to the old, the +young, and the middle-aged." + +_The Busie Body_ enjoyed a similar place of importance in the stage +history of America but achieved its greatest popularity, in New York +at least, in the nineteenth century. First performed in Williamsburg +on September 10, 1736, the play was presented fifteen times in New +York in the eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century forty-five +performances were given in New York in sixteen seasons from 1803 to 1885 +(George Odell, _Annals of the New York Stage_). _The Busie Body_ is +frequently cited with _The Rivals_ and _The School for Scandal_ for +opening seasons and for long runs by great actors. + +The text here reproduced is from a copy of the first edition now in the +library of the University of Michigan. + + _Jess Byrd_ + _Salem College_ + + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + + + THE + BUSIE BODY: + + A + COMEDY. + + As it is Acted at the + THEATRE-ROYAL + in + _DRURY-LANE_, + + By Her Majesty's Servants. + + Written by Mrs. SUSANNA CENTLIVRE. + + + Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso Gloria curru, + Exanimat lentus Spectator, sedulus inflat. + Sic Leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum + Subruit aut reficit-- + + Horat. Epist. Lib. II. Ep. 1. + + + _LONDON_, + +Printed for BERNARD LINTOTT, at the _Cross-Keys_ +between the Two _Temple-Gates_ in _Fleet-street_. + + * * * * * + + To The + RIGHT HONOURABLE + + _JOHN_ Lord _SOMMERS_, + + Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most + Honourable Privy-Council. + + +_May it please Your Lordship,_ + +As it's an Establish'd Custom in these latter Ages, for all Writers, +particularly the Poetical, to shelter their Productions under the +Protection of the most Distinguish'd, whose Approbation produces a kind +of Inspiration, much superior to that which the _Heathenish_ Poets +pretended to derive from their Fictitious _Apollo_: So it was my +Ambition to Address one of my weak Performances to Your Lordship, who, +by Universal Consent, are justly allow'd to be the best Judge of all +kinds of Writing. + +I was indeed at first deterr'd from my Design, by a Thought that it +might be accounted unpardonable Rudeness to obtrude a Trifle of this +Nature to a Person, whose sublime Wisdom moderates that Council, which +at this Critical Juncture, over-rules the Fate of all _Europe_. But then +I was encourag'd by Reflecting, that _Lelius_ and _Scipio_, the two +greatest Men in their Time, among the _Romans_, both for Political and +Military Virtues, in the height of their important Affairs, thought +the Perusal and Improving of _Terence_'s Comedies the noblest way of +Unbinding their Minds. I own I were guilty of the highest Vanity, should +I presume to put my Composures in Parallel with those of that Celebrated +_Dramatist_. But then again, I hope that Your Lordship's native Goodness +and Generosity, in Condescension to the Taste of the Best and Fairest +part of the Town, who have been pleas'd to be diverted by the following +SCENES, will excuse and overlook such Faults as your nicer Judgment +might discern. + +And here, my Lord, the Occasion seems fair for me to engage in a +Panegyrick upon those Natural and Acquired Abilities, which so brightly +Adorn your Person: But I shall resist that Temptation, being conscious +of the Inequality of a Female Pen to so Masculine an Attempt; and having +no other Ambition, than to Subscribe my self, + + My Lord, + Your Lordship's + Most Humble and + Most Obedient Servant, + + SUSANNA CENTLIVRE. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + +By the Author of TUNBRIDGE-WALKS. + + +Tho' modern Prophets were expos'd of late, +The Author cou'd not Prophesie his Fate; +If with such Scenes an Audience had been Fir'd, +The Poet must have really been Inspir'd. +But these, alas! are Melancholy Days +For Modern Prophets, and for Modern Plays. +Yet since Prophetick Lyes please Fools o'Fashion, +And Women are so fond of Agitation; +To Men of Sense, I'll Prophesie anew, +And tell you wond'rous things, that will prove true: +_Undaunted Collonels will to Camps repair,_ +_Assur'd, there'll be no Skirmishes this Year;_ +On our own Terms will flow the wish'd-for Peace, +All Wars, except 'twixt Man and Wife, will cease. +The Grand Monarch may wish his Son a Throne, +But hardly will advance to lose his own. +This Season most things bear a smiling Face; +But Play'rs in Summer have a dismal Case, +Since your Appearance only is our Act of Grace. +Court Ladies will to Country Seats be gone, +My Lord can't all the Year live Great in Town, +Where wanting _Opera's_, _Basset_, and a _Play_, +They'll Sigh and stitch a Gown, to pass the time away. +Gay City-Wives at _Tunbridge_ will appear, +Whose Husbands long have laboured for an Heir; +Where many a Courtier may their Wants relieve, +But by the Waters only they Conceive. +The _Fleet-street_ Sempstress--Toast of _Temple_ Sparks, +That runs Spruce Neckcloths for Attorney's Clerks; +At _Cupid_'s _Gardens_ will her Hours regale, +Sing fair _Dorinda_, and drink Bottl'd Ale. +At all Assemblies, Rakes are up and down, +And Gamesters, where they think they are not known. + Shou'd I denounce our Author's fate to Day, +To cry down Prophecies, you'd damn the Play: +Yet Whims like these have sometimes made you Laugh; +'Tis Tattling all, like _Isaac Bickerstaff_. + Since War, and Places claim the Bards that write, +Be kind, and bear a Woman's Treat to-Night; +Let your Indulgence all her Fears allay, +And none but Woman-Haters damn this Play. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +In me you see one _Busie-Body_ more; +Tho' you may have enough of one before. +With Epilogues, the _Busie-Body_'s Way, +We strive to help; but sometimes mar a Play. +At this mad Sessions, half condemn'd e'er try'd, +Some, in three Days, have been turn'd off, and dy'd, +In spight of Parties, their Attempts are vain, +For like false Prophets, they ne'er rise again. +Too late, when cast, your Favour one beseeches, +And Epilogues prove Execution Speeches. +Yet sure I spy no _Busie-Bodies_ here; +And one may pass, since they do ev'ry where. +Sowr Criticks, Time and Breath, and Censures waste, +And baulk your Pleasure to refine your Taste. +One busie Don ill-tim'd high Tenets Preaches, +Another yearly shows himself in Speeches. +Some snivling Cits, wou'd have a Peace for spight, +To starve those Warriours who so bravely fight. +Still of a Foe upon his Knees affraid; +Whose well-hang'd Troops want Money, Heart, and Bread. +Old Beaux, who none not ev'n themselves can please, +Are busie still; for nothing--but to teize +The Young, so busie to engage a Heart, +The Mischief done, are busie most to part. +Ungrateful Wretches, who still cross ones Will, +When they more kindly might be busie still! +One to a Husband, who ne'er dreamt of Horns, +Shows how dear Spouse, with Friend his Brows adorns. +Th' Officious Tell-tale Fool, (he shou'd repent it.) +Parts three kind Souls that liv'd at Peace contented, +Some with Law Quirks set _Houses_ by the Ears; +With Physick one what he wou'd heal impairs. +Like that dark Mob'd up Fry, that neighb'ring Curse, +Who to remove Love's Pain, bestow a worse. +Since then this meddling Tribe infest the Age, +Bear one a while, expos'd upon the Stage. +Let none but _Busie-Bodies_ vent their Spight! +And with good Humour, Pleasure crown the Night!_ + + + + +Dramatis Personæ. + +Men. + +Sir _George Airy_. A Gentleman of Four Thousand a Year +in Love with _Miranda_. + Acted by Mr. _Wilks_. + +Sir _Francis Gripe_. Guardian to _Miranda_ and _Marplot_, +Father to _Charles_, in Love with _Miranda_. + Mr. _Estcourt_. + +_Charles_. Friend to _Sir George_, in Love with _Isabinda_. + Mr. _Mills_. + +Sir _Jealous Traffick_. A Merchant that had liv'd sometime +in _Spain_, a great Admirer of the _Spanish_ Customs, +Father to _Isabinda_. + Mr. _Bullock_. + +_Marplot_. A sort of a silly Fellow, Cowardly, but very +Inquisitive to know every Body's Business, generally spoils +all he undertakes, yet without Design. + Mr. _Pack_. + +_Whisper_. Servant to _Charles_. + Mr. _Bullock_ jun. + + +Women. + +_Miranda_. An Heiress, worth Thirty Thousand Pound, really +in Love with Sir _George_, but pretends to be so with her +Guardian Sir _Francis_. + Mrs. _Cross_. + +_Isabinda_. Daughter to Sir _Jealous_, in Love with _Charles_, +but design'd for a _Spanish_ Merchant by her Father, and kept +up from the sight of all Men. + Mrs. _Rogers_. + +_Patch_. Her Woman. + Mrs. _Saunders_. + +_Scentwell_. Woman to _Miranda_. + Mrs. _Mills_. + + +[Transcriber's Note: +The scenes within each Act are not numbered. Their descriptions are +listed here for convenience: + +ACT I [scene i] The Park +ACT II [scene i] [Sir Francis Gripe's house] + [scene ii] Sir Jealous Traffick's House + [scene iii] Charles's Lodging +ACT III [scene i] [outside Sir Jealous Traffick's house] + [scene ii] the Street + [scene iii] Sir Francis Gripe's House + [scene iv] a Tavern +ACT IV [scene i] the Out-side of Sir Jealous Traffick's House + [scene ii] Isabinda's Chamber + [scene iii] a Garden Gate open + [scene iv] the House [of Sir Jealous Traffick] +ACT V [scene i] [Sir Francis Gripe's house] + [scene ii] the Street before Sir _Jealous_'s Door + [scene iii] Inside the House [of Sir Jealous Traffick] ] + + + THE + BUSIE BODY. + + + ACT I. SCENE _The Park_. + + Sir _George Airy_ meeting _Charles_. + + +_Cha._ Ha! Sir _George Airy!_ A Birding thus early, what forbidden Game +rouz'd you so soon? For no lawful Occasion cou'd invite a Person of your +Figure abroad at such unfashionable Hours. + +Sir _Geo._ There are some Men, _Charles_, whom Fortune has left free +from Inquietudes, who are diligently Studious to find out Ways and Means +to make themselves uneasie. + +_Cha._ Is it possible that any thing in Nature can ruffle the Temper of +a Man, whom the four Seasons of the Year compliment with as many +Thousand Pounds, nay! and a Father at Rest with his Ancestors. + +Sir _Geo._ Why there 'tis now! a Man that wants Money thinks none can be +unhappy that has it; but my Affairs are in such a whimsical Posture, +that it will require a Calculation of my Nativity to find if my Gold +will relieve me or not. + +_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, never consult the Stars about that; Gold has a Power +beyond them; Gold unlocks the Midnight Councils; Gold out-does the Wind, +becalms the Ship, or fills her Sails; Gold is omnipotent below; it makes +whole Armies fight, or fly; It buys even Souls, and bribes the Wretches +to betray their Country: Then what can thy Business be, that Gold won't +serve thee in? + +Sir _Geo._ Why, I'm in Love. + +_Cha._ In Love--Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with what, prithee, +a _Cherubin!_ + +Sir _Geo._ No, with a Woman. + +_Cha._ A Woman, Good, Ha, ha, ha, and Gold not help thee? + +Sir _Geo._ But suppose I'm in Love with two-- + +_Cha._ Ay, if thou'rt in Love with two hundred, Gold will fetch 'em, I +warrant thee, Boy. But who are they? who are they? come. + +Sir _Geo._ One is a Lady, whose Face I never saw, but Witty as an Angel; +the other Beautiful as _Venus_-- + +_Cha._ And a Fool-- + +Sir _Geo._ For ought I know, for I never spoke to her, but you can +inform me; I am charm'd by the Wit of One, and dye for the Beauty of the +Other? + +_Cha._ And pray, which are you in Quest of now? + +Sir _Geo._ I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, who is +thy Father's Ward _Miranda_. + +_Cha._ Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more part +with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me from +starving. + +Sir _Geo._ Now you see Gold can't do every thing, _Charles_. + +_Cha._ Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against you. + +Sir _Geo._ Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou by such +a Liberal Education? + +_Cha._ Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an Uncle who +defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, tho' he +made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of +Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and +now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, +than if it lay in _Prester John_'s Dominions. + +Sir _Geo._ What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it? + +_Cha._ I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the Mistress of +Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too cunning for +me--I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then for my last +Refuge, a Brown Musquet. + +Sir _Geo._ What is't, can I assist thee? + +_Cha._ Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to ask it. + +Sir _Geo._ I am always ready, but what do's he intend to do with +_Miranda?_ Is she to be sold in private? or will he put her up by way of +Auction, at who bids most? If so, Egad, I'm for him: my Gold, as you +say, shall be subservient to my Pleasure. + +_Cha._ To deal ingeniously with you, Sir _George_, I know very little of +Her, or Home; for since my Uncle's Death, and my Return from Travel, I +have never been well with my Father; he thinks my Expences too great, +and I his Allowance too little; he never sees me, but he quarrels; and +to avoid that, I shun his House as much as possible. The Report is, he +intends to marry her himself. + +Sir _Geo._ Can she consent to it? + +_Cha._ Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you, I am wholly ignorant of +the matter. _Miranda_ and I are like two violent Members of a contrary +Party, I can scarce allow her Beauty, tho' all the World do's; nor she +me Civility, for that Contempt, I fancy she plays the Mother-in-law +already, and sets the old Gentleman on to do mischief. + +Sir _Geo._ Then I've your free Consent to get her. + +_Cha._ Ay and my helping-hand, if occasion be. + +Sir _Geo._ Pugh, yonder's a Fool coming this way, let's avoid him. + +_Cha._ What _Marplot_, no no, he's my Instrument; there's a thousand +Conveniences in him, he'll lend me his Money when he has any, run of my +Errands and be proud on't; in short, he'll Pimp for me, Lye for me, +Drink for me, do any thing but Fight for me, and that I trust to my own +Arm for. + +Sir _Geo._ Nay then he's to be endur'd; I never knew his Qualifications +before. + + _Enter _Marplot_ with a Patch cross his Face._ + +_Marpl._ Dear _Charles_, your's,--Ha! Sir _George Airy_, the Man in the +World, I have an Ambition to be known to (_aside_.) Give me thy Hand, +dear Boy-- + +_Cha._ A good Assurance! But heark ye, how came your Beautiful +Countenance clouded in the wrong place? + +_Marpl._ I must confess 'tis a little _Mal-a-propos_, but no matter for +that; a Word with you, _Charles_; Prithee, introduce me to Sir +_George_--he is a Man of Wit, and I'd give ten Guinea's to-- + +_Cha._ When you have 'em, you mean. + +_Marpl._ Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the Thread of my +Discourse--I wou'd give ten Guinea's, I say, to be rank'd in his +Acquaintance: Well, 'tis a vast Addition to a Man's Fortune, according +to the Rout of the World, to be seen in the Company of Leading Men; for +then we are all thought to be Politicians, or Whigs, or Jacks, or +High-Flyers, or Low-Flyers, or Levellers--and so forth; for you must +know, we all herd in Parties now. + +_Cha._ Then a Fool for Diversion is out of Fashion, I find. + +_Marpl._ Yes, without it be a mimicking Fool, and they are Darlings +every where; but prithee introduce me. + +_Cha._ Well, on Condition you'll give us a true Account how you came by +that Mourning Nose, I will. + +_Marpl._ I'll do it. + +_Cha._ Sir _George_, here's a Gentleman has a passionate Desire to kiss +your Hand. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this Gentleman +is lately come from _Spain_ or _Portugal_--by his Scars. + +_Marpl._ No really, Sir _George_, mine sprung from civil Fury, happening +last Night into the Groom-Porters--I had a strong Inclination to go ten +Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a--kind of a Milk Sop, as I thought: A +Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets being empty as _Charles_ +knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly _North-Britain_, and broke +my Face for my Deficiency. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! ha! and did not you draw? + +_Marpl._ Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to make a +swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin ye +touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, + +_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I suppose. + +_Marp._ Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my +Friends you know-- + +Sir _Geo._ Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll rank +me in that Number. + +_Marpl._ Sir _George_, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your +Chariot, binds me ever yours. + +Sir _Geo._ Trifles, you may command 'em when you please. + +_Cha._ Provided he may command you-- + +_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir _George_, I have the +Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll +tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman-- + +Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my +Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with +an Air of Business, Ha! + +_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman. + +Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_ + +_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are +Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon; +that Sir _Francis Gripe_ is a damn'd old-- + +_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father-- + +_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, _Charles_, but it is for your sake I hate +him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety, +makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every +Heir's Jaylor. Egad, _Charles_, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some +_Ward_ too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee +as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality. + +Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow. + +_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his +Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but +some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner spoils +an Intreague than helps it-- + +_Marpl._ If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions. + +_Cha._ Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife. + +_Marpl._ Pish, Pox, that was an Accident. + +Sir _Geo._ What was it, prithee? + +_Ch._ Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting +Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him along +with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to the +Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the +Letter, and offers her the Horses. + +_Marpl._ I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter to +be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid for. + +_Cha._ Come, Sir _George_, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for +I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him +to bring me the Answer into the Park. + +_Marpl._ Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him. + +Sir _Geo._ I must beg your Pardon, _Charles_, I am to meet your Father +here. + +_Ch._ My Father! + +Sir _Geo._ Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard off; +but I'll not impart till I know the Success. + +_Marpl._ What can his Business be with Sir _Francis?_ Now wou'd I give +all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know every Man's +Concern. + (_Aside_. + +_Cha._ Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over +a Bottle we'll compare Notes. + +_Marpl._ _Charles_ knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make +one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets. + (_Aside._ + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whis._ Sir, Sir, Mis _Patch_ says, _Isabinda_'s Spanish Father has +quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the Park, but he +infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must step again +to know the Hour. + +_Marpl._ What did _Whisper_ say now? I shall go stark Mad, if I'm not +let into this Secret. + (_Aside._ + +_Cha._ Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels Pleasure at +her Name. Sir _George_, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual +Hour. + +Sir _Geo._ Agreed; I think I see Sir _Francis_ yonder. + (_Exit._ + +_Cha._ _Marplot_, you must excuse me, I am engag'd. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your +Engagement is. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ (_Coming out of a Chair._) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That +dog'd Sir _George_ said he was in the Park. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +Ha! Mis _Patch_ alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to +bring _Isabinda_ to the Park? + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched +Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my +Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is +right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible +Fright--At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at +leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he +snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which +my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your +Ladiship with the sad Relation. + +_Miran._ Unhappy _Isabinda!_ Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the +Humour of Sir _Jealousie Traffick_. + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in _Spain_, he vows he'll +spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to +bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious _Spanish_ +Customs--He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen +Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten +Child in the City. + +_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could +introduce his rigid Rules--does he think we cou'd not match them in +Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if +there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break +'em: Is his Mind set upon the _Spaniard_ for his Son-in-law still? + +_Patch._ Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his +Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the +same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladiship.--My +Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir +_Jealousie_ believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is +to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty. + +_Miran._ I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her, +or I had not parted with thee to her Father. + +_Patch._ But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your +Guardian. + +_Miran._ It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, _Patch_. + +_Patch._ But is it true, Madam? + +_Miran._ That's not absolutely necessary. + +_Patch._ I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for +your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind +now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is +with her Father. + +_Miran._ No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give +now to be in this _dissabilee_ in the--open Air, nay more, in pursuit of +the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee. + +_Patch._ As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't +come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old _Argus_. + +_Miran._ Now _Patch_, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes--Ha! +my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir +_Francis_ can't know me in this Dress--Let's observe 'em. + (_They +withdraw._ + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_ and Sir _George Airy_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Verily, Sir _George_, thou wilt repent throwing away thy +Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, _Miranda_, my Charge do's not love +a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good Husbands; in +sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) In sober Sadness you are mistaken--what can this +mean? + +Sir _Geo._ Look ye, Sir _Francis_, whether she can or cannot abide young +Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty Guineas? + +Sir _Fran._ In good truth--I will not, for I knew thy Father, he was a +hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son should squander away +what he sav'd, to no purpose. + +_Mirand._ (_Peeping._) Now, in the Name of Wonder, what Bargain can he +be driving about me for fifty Guineas? + +_Patch._ I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, Madam. + +Sir _Geo._ Well, Sir _Francis_, since you are so conscientious for my +Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, _Gratis_. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) The Favour! Oh my Life! I believe 'tis as you +said, _Patch_. + +Sir _Fran._ No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou wou'd +never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune. + +Sir _Geo._ The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty Sum--Let me +see--a Hundred Guineas-- (_Takes 'em out of a Purse and chinks 'em._) +Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a very pleasing Look--But then, +_Miranda_--But if she should be cruel-- + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall-- + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he. + +Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't. + +_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam? + +Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions-- + +Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.) + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on +the Rack. + +Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it. + +Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on. + +Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to +move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the space of Ten Minutes, without Lett +or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room. + +Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot-- + +Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha, +in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas. + +Sir _Geo._ Take it-- + (_Gives him the Purse_. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both-- + +Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day. + +Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_ +and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last +sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_Chinks 'em_.) + (Exit. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_. + +Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should +be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally +impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to +her-- + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Say you so? Then I am safe. + +Sir _Geo._ What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a thousand +Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm lucky--if +not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away. + (__Miranda_ and _Patch_ come forwards._ + +_Miran._ Upon what Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! my _Incognito_--upon a Woman, Madam. + +_Miran._ They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the +soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your +Return, Sir _George_, Ha, ha! + +Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces +with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but +Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy +Face. + +_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense-- + +Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam. + +_Patch._ So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir. + +Sir _Geo._ No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my +Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger-- + +_Miran._ Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against +the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband +upon your Forehead-- + +Sir _Geo._ For my Folly in having so often met you here, without +pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command--But I resolve +e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of +Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the +trouble of doing it for you. + +_Miran._ My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir _George_, +which if you'll be so rude to provoke. + +Sir _Geo._ You'll apply it to my Cheek--The Ladies Favours are always +Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. (_Taking hold of her_.) +Remember you are in the _Park_, Child, and what a terrible thing would +it be to lose this pretty white Hand. + +_Miran._ And how will it sound in a _Chocolate-House_, that Sir _George +Airy_ rudely pull'd off a Ladies Mask, when he had given her his Honour, +that he never would, directly or indirectly endeavour to know her till +she gave him Leave. + +_Patch._ I wish we were safe out. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ But if that Lady thinks fit to pursue and meet me at every +turn like some troubl'd Spirit, shall I be blam'd if I inquire into the +Reality? I would have nothing dissatisfy'd in a Female Shape. + +_Miran._ What shall I do? + (_Pause._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, prithee consider, for thou shalt find me very much at thy +Service. + +_Patch._ Suppose, Sir, the Lady shou'd be in Love with you. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh! I'll return the Obligation in a Moment. + +_Patch._ And marry her? + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, that's not the way to Love her Child. + +_Miran._ If he discovers me, I shall die--Which way shall I escape?--Let +me see. + (_Pauses._ + +Sir _Geo._ Well, Madam-- + +_Miran._ I have it--Sir _George_, 'tis fit you should allow something; +if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you look upon me I +shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I have engag'd you +so often, who I am, and where I live? + +Sir _Geo._ Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the +Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a +Secret to me. + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ What mean you, Madam? + +_Miran._ To get off. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a Lady; but +you command and I obey. (_Turns his Back._) Come, Madam, begin-- + +_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at _Paris_ (_Draws +back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape +and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from +that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the +Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd +know.-- + + _Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_ + _And quit the Place in search of Liberty._ + (Exit. + +Sir _Geo._ Excellent--I hope she's Handsome--Well, Now, Madam, to the +other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?--I am a Gentleman, and +this Confession will not be lost upon me.--Nay, prithee don't weep, but +go on--for I find my Heart melts in thy Behalf--speak quickly or I shall +turn about--Not yet.--Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and +to do her Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. (_Turns about._) +Ha? gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented--of +_Paris_, Balls, and Birth-Days.--Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to know who +this Gipsie is.--A Curse of my Folly--I deserve to lose her; what Woman +can forgive a Man that turns his Back. + + _The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War, + To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way; + The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair, + As Courage makes the rudest Force obey, + Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye, + Closely pursue them and they fall before ye._ + +The End of the First ACT. + + + + +ACT the Second. + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Miranda_._ + + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with Laughing.--The +most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the odious young Fop mean? A +Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it had been +in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog. + +_Mirand._ Indeed and Indeed, but you might _Gardy_.--Now methinks +there's no Body Handsomer than you; So Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd, +and so Loving.-- + +Sir _Fran._ Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find me, if +thou do'st prefer thy _Gardy_ before these Caperers of the Age, thou +shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an _Opera_ Night; thou shalt be the +Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to _Hide-Park_) and thy Equipage +shall Surpass, the what--d'ye call 'em Ambassadors. + +_Miran._ Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me more for +the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside Equipage. + +Sir _Fran._ A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one too; and +to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment Disinherit my +Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee. + +_Miran._ There's an old Rogue now: (_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I would not +have your Name be so Black in the World--You know my Father's Will runs, +that I am not to possess my Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five +and Twenty; you shall only abate the odd Seven Years, and make me +Mistress of my Estate to Day, and I'll make you Master of my Person to +Morrow. + +Sir _Fran._ Humph? that may not be safe--No _Chargy_, I'll Settle it +upon thee for _Pin-mony_; and that will be every bit as well, thou +know'st. + +_Miran._ Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own Money--Which +way shall I get out of his Hands? + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter +Sir _George?_ + +_Miran._ I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well: +(_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I have thought of a way will Confound him more +than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years. + +Sir _Fran._ How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad-- + +_Miran._ It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (_Aside._) I'll not +Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says-- + +Sir _Fran._ Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have +you now, Sir _George_: Dumb! he'll go Distracted--Well, she's the +wittiest Rogue--Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how +damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a +Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardy_, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd +make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, so it wou'd _Chargy_, to hold him in such Derision, to +scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha. + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +Sir _Fran._ How now, Sirrah, Who let you in? + +_Char._ My Necessity, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and ought to +have sent before they Entred. + +_Char._ Sir, I knew 'twas a Word wou'd gain Admittance no where. + +Sir _Fran._ Then, Sirrah, how durst you Rudely thrust that upon your +Father, which no Body else wou'd admit? + +_Char._ Sure the Name of a Son is a sufficient Plea. I ask this Lady's +Pardon if I have intruded. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Ay, ask her Pardon and her Blessing too, if you expect +any thing from me. + +_Miran._ I believe yours, Sir _Francis_, in a Purse of Guinea's wou'd be +more material. Your Son may have Business with you, I'll retire. + +Sir _Fran._ I guess his Business, but I'll dispatch him, I expect the +Knight every Minute: You'll be in Readiness. + +_Miran._ Certainly! my Expectation is more upon the wing than yours, old +Gentleman. + [_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir! + +_Char._ Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm sure. + +Sir _Fran,_ And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd have made +them better. + +_Char._ If you please to intrust me with the Management of my Estate, I +shall endeavour it, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at the +Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or by +your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up for +Parliament-Man. + +_Char._ I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask only for +what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. Adod +these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them to +squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so forth. + +_Char._ I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle bred me +like one. + +Sir _Fran._ From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, Whoring, and +the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman. + +_Char._ Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he falls +into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, employ +Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, what is it you mutter, Sirrah, ha? (_Holds up his +Cane._) I say, you sha'n't have a Groat out of my Hands till I +Please--and may be I'll never Please, and what's that to you? + +_Char._ Nay, to be Robb'd, or have one's Throat Cut is not much-- + +Sir _Fran._ What's that, Sirrah? wou'd ye Rob me, or Cut my Throat, ye +Rogue? + +_Char._ Heaven forbid, Sir,--I said no such thing. + +Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! What a Plague it is to have a Son of One and +Twenty, who wants to Elbow one out of one's Life, to Edge himself into +the Estate. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ Egad he's here--I was afraid I had lost him: His Secret cou'd +not be with his Father, his Wants are Publick there--Guardian,--your +Servant _Charles_, I know by that sorrowful Countenance of thine. The +old Man's Fist is as close as his strong Box--But I'll help thee-- + +Sir _Fran._ So: Here's another extravagant Coxcomb, that will spend his +Fortune before he comes to't; but he shall pay swinging Interest, and so +let the Fool go on--Well, what do's Necessity bring you too, Sir? + +_Marpl._ You have hit it, Guardian--I want a Hundred Pound. + +Sir _Fran._ For what? + +_Marpl._ Po'gh, for a Hundred Things, I can't for my Life tell you for +what. + +_Char._ Sir, I suppose I have received all the Answer I am like to have. + +_Marpl._ Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose him +agen. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you please--I +must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in mine. + +_Marpl._ Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty haste. + +Sir _Fran._ Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be long +plagu'd with thee. + (_Gives him a Note._ + +_Marpl._ Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have _Charles_ gone +before I come back agen. + (_Runs out._ + +_Char._ Well, Sir, I take my Leave--But remember, you Expose an only Son +to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too often lays the Plan +for Scenes of Mischief. + +Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head, +may prove to thy Advantage. + +_Char._ Ha, does he Relent? + +Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a +Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the +Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce +thee for nothing. + +_Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye. + +Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir. + +_Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty, +Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag. + +Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for +her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you +think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing +with you. + +_Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with +half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose +better for your self, I find. + +Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my +Marriage, Sirrah. + +_Char._ Sir, I obey: But-- + +Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money +agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without +Reply. + + (_Exit _Char_._ + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir. + + _Enter _Marplot_ Running._ + +_Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian? + +Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him. + +_Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the +Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now. +I shall certainly lose this Secret. + (_Exit, hastily._ + +Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk +up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool: +Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass already. + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd +you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_Chinks +them._) Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir _Francis_: Therefore be +brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post--if she's a Woman, and, not +seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his Heart ake; for if +she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll vary a Thousand +Shapes, but find it. + (_Aside._ + + _Enter _Mirand_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Agreed--_Miranda._ There Sir _George_, try your Fortune, +(_Takes out his Watch._) + +Sir _Geo._ + So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun, + Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below. + (_Salutes her._ + +Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh! That's by way of Prologue:--Prithee, Old Mammon, to thy +Post. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, young _Timon_, 'tis now 4 exactly; one Hour, remember +is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more. + (_Retires to the bottom of +the Stage._ + +Sir _Geo._ Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the Author +of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the Life of +your Admirer; your sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love; +your Vivacity a Soul too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd +Mortality. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) Oh, that I durst speak-- + +Sir _Geo._ Shake off this Tyrant _Guardian_'s Yoke, assume your self, +and dash his bold aspiring Hopes; the Deity of his Desires, is Avarice; +a Heretick in Love, and ought to be banish'd by the Queen of Beauty. +See, Madam, a faithful Servant kneels and begs to be admitted in the +Number of your Slaves. + (Miranda _gives him her Hand to Raise him._ + +Sir _Fran._ I wish I cou'd hear what he says now. (_Running up._) Hold, +hold, hold, no Palming, that's contrary to Articles-- + +Sir _Geo._ Death, Sir, Keep your Distance, or I'll write another Article +in your Guts. + (_Lays his Hand to his Sword._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) A Bloody-minded Fellow!-- + +Sir _Geo._ Not Answer me! Perhaps she thinks my Address too Grave: I'll +be more free--Can you be so Unconscionable, Madam, to let me say all +these fine things to you without one single Compliment in Return? View +me well, am I not a proper Handsome Fellow, ha? Can you prefer that old, +dry, wither'd, sapless Log of Sixty-five, to the vigorous, gay, +sprightly Love of Twenty-four? With Snoring only he'll awake thee, but I +with Ravishing Delight wou'd make thy Senses Dance in Consort with the +Joyful Minutes--ha? not yet, sure she is Dumb--Thus wou'd I steal and +touch thy Beauteous Hand, (_Takes bold of her Hand_) till by degrees I +reach'd thy snowy Breasts, then Ravish Kisses thus, + (_Embraces her in Extasie._ + +_Miran._ (_Strugles and flings from him._) Oh Heavens! I shall not be +able to contain my self. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Running up with his Watch in his Hand._) Sure she did not +speak to him--There's Three Quarters of the Hour gone, Sir +_George_--Adod, I don't like those close Conferences-- + +Sir _Geo._ More Interruptions--You will have it, Sir. + (_Lays his Hand to his Sword._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) No, no, you shan't have her neither. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Dumb still--sure this old Dog has enjoyn'd her Silence; I'll +try another way--I must conclude, Madam, that in Compliance to your +Guardian's Humour, you refuse to answer me--Consider the Injustice of +his Injunction. This single Hour cost me a Hundred Pound--and wou'd you +answer me, I cou'd purchase the 24 so: However, Madam, you must give me +leave to make the best Interpretation I can for my Money, and take the +Indication of your Silence for the secret Liking of my Person: +Therefore, Madam, I will instruct you how to keep your Word inviolate to +Sir _Francis_, and yet Answer me to every Question: As for Example, When +I ask any thing, to which you wou'd Reply in the Affirmative, gently Nod +your Head--thus; and when in the Negative thus; (_(Shakes his Head_.) +and in the doubtful a tender Sigh, thus + (_Sighs._ + +_Miran._ How every Action charms me--but I'll fit him for Signs I +warrant him. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, ha. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Was it by his desire that you are Dumb, Madam, to all that I +can say? + +_Miran._ (_Nods._) + +Sir _Geo._ Very well! she's tractable I find--And is it possible that +you can love him? Miraculous! (__Miran._ Nods._) Pardon the bluntness of +my Questions, for my Time is short; may I not hope to supplant him in +your Esteem? (__Miran._ Sighs._) Good! she answers me as I could +wish--You'll not consent to marry him then? (__Miran._ Sighs._) How, +doubtful in that--Undone again--Humph! but that may proceed from his +Power to keep her out of her Estate till Twenty Five; I'll try +that--Come, Madam, I cannot think you hesitate in this Affair out of any +Motive, but your Fortune--Let him keep it till those few Years are +expir'd; make me Happy with your Person, let him enjoy your +Wealth--(__Miran._ holds up her Hands._) Why, what Sign is that now? +Nay, nay, Madam, except you observe my Lesson, I can't understand your +meaning-- + +Sir _Fran._ What a Vengeance, are they talking by Signs, 'ad I may be +fool'd here; what do you mean, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ To Cut your Throat if you dare Mutter another Syllable. + +Sir _Fran._ Od! I wish he were fairly out of my House. + +Sir _Geo._ Pray, Madam, will you answer me to the Purpose? (__Miran._ +shakes her Head, and points to Sir _Francis_._) What! does she mean she +won't answer me to the purpose, or is she afraid yon' old Cuff should +understand her Signs?--Aye, it must be that, I perceive, Madam, you are +too apprehensive of the Promise you have made to follow my Rules; +therefore I'll suppose your Mind and answer for you--First, for my self, +Madam, that I am in Love with you is an infallible Truth. Now for you: +(_Turns on her side._) Indeed, Sir, and may I believe it--As certainly, +Madam, as that 'tis Day light, or that I Die if you persist in +Silence--Bless me with the Musick of your Voice, and raise my Spirits to +their proper Heaven: Thus low let me intreat; e'er I'm oblig'd to quit +this Place, grant me some Token of a favourable Reception to keep my +Hopes alive. (_Arises hastily turns of her side._) Rise, Sir, and since +my Guardian's Presence will not allow me Privilege of Tongue, Read that +and rest assured you are not indifferent to me. (_Offers her a Letter._) +Ha! right Woman! But no (_She strikes it down._) matter I'll go on. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha! what's that a Letter--Ha, ha, ha, thou art baulk'd. + +_Miran._ The best Assurance I ever saw-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha? a Letter, Oh! let me Kiss it with the same Raptures that +I would do the dear Hand that touch'd it. (_Opens it._) Now for a quick +Fancy and a long _Extempore_--What's here? (_Reads._) "Dear, Sir +_George_, this Virgin Muse I consecrate to you, which when it has +receiv'd the Addition of your Voice, 'twill Charm me into Desire of +Liberty to Love, which you, and only you can fix." My Angel! Oh you +transport me! (_Kisses the Letter._) And see the Power of your Command; +the God of Love has set the Verse already; the flowing Numbers Dance +into a Tune, and I'm inspir'd with a Voice to sing it. + +_Miran._ I'm sure thou art inspir'd with Impudence enough. + +Sir _Geo._ (_Sings._) + _Great Love inspire him; + Say I admire him. + Give me the Lover + That can discover + Secret Devotion + from silent Motion; + Then don't betray me, + But hence convey me._ + +Sir _Geo._ (_Taking hold of _Miranda_._) With all my Heart, this Moment +let's Retire. + + (_Sir _Francis_ coming up hastily._) + +Sir _Fran._ The Hour is expir'd, Sir, and you must take your leave. +There, my Girl, there's the Hundred Pound which thou hast won, go, I'll +be with you presently, Ha, ha, ha, ha. + + (_Exit _Miranda_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ads Heart, Madam, you won't leave me just in the Nick, will +you? + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, she has nick'd you, Sir _George_, I think, Ha, +ha, ha: Have you any more Hundred Pounds to throw away upon Courtship, +Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ He, he, he, he, a Curse of your fleering Jests--Yet, however +ill I succeeded, I'll venture the same Wager, she does not value thee a +spoonful of Snuff--Nay more, though you enjoyn'd her Silence to me, +you'll never make her speak to the Purpose with your self. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, did not I tell thee thou would'st repent thy +Money? Did not I say she hated young Fellow's, Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ And I'm positive she's not in Love with Age. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, no matter for that, Ha, ha, she's not taken with +your Youth, nor your Rhetorick to boot, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me, I am certain she +can be taken with nothing about thee. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; how he swells with Envy!--Poor Man, poor +Man--Ha, ha; I must beg your Pardon, Sir _George_, _Miranda_ will be +Impatient to have her share of Mirth: Verily we shall Laugh at thee most +Egregiously; Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart, faith--I shall Laugh in my Turn too--For +if you dare marry her old _Belzebub_, you would be Cuckolded most +Egregiously; Remember that, and Tremble-- + + _She that to Age her Beauteous Self resigns, + Shows witty Management for close Designs. + Then if thou'rt grac'd with fair _Miranda_'s Bed, + _Actæon_'s Horns she Means, shall Crown thy Head._ + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; he is mad. + + _These fluttering Fops imagine they can Wind, + Turn, and Decoy to Love, all Women-kind: + But here's a Proof of Wisdom in my Charge, + Old Men are Constant, Young Men live at Large. + The Frugal Hand can Bills at Sight defray, + When he that Lavish is, has Nought to pay._ + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE _Changes to Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_, _Isabinda_, _Patch_ following._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What in the Balcone agen, notwithstanding my positive +Commands to the contrary!--Why don't you write a Bill upon your +Forehead, to show Passengers there's something to be Let-- + +_Isab._ What harm can there be in a little fresh Air, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ Is your Constitution so hot, Mistriss, that it wants +cooling, ha? Apply the Virtuous _Spanish_ Rules, banish your Tast, and +Thoughts of Flesh, feed upon Roots, and quench your Thirst with Water. + +_Isab._ That, and a close Room, wou'd certainly make me die of the +Vapours. + +Sir _Jeal._ No, Mistriss, 'tis your High-fed, Lusty, Rambling, Rampant +Ladies--that are troubl'd with the Vapours; 'tis your Ratifia, Persico, +Cynamon, Citron, and Spirit of Clary, cause such Swi--m--ing in the +Brain, that carries many a Guinea full-tide to the Doctor. But you are +not to be Bred this way; No Galloping abroad, no receiving Visits at +home; for in our loose Country, the Women are as dangerous as the Men. + +_Patch._ So I told her, Sir; and that it was not Decent to be seen in a +Balcone--But she threaten'd to slap my Chaps, and told me, I was her +Servant, not her Governess. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did she so? But I'll make her to know, that you are her +_Duenna_: Oh that incomparable Custom of _Spain!_ why here's no +depending upon old Women in my Country--for they are as Wanton at +Eighty, as a Girl of Eighteen; and a Man may as safely trust to +_Asgill_'s Translation, as to his great Grand-Mother's not marrying +agen. + +_Isab._ Or to the _Spanish_ Ladies Veils, and _Duenna's_, for the +Safeguard of their Honour. + +Sir _Jeal._ Dare to Ridicule the Cautious Conduct of that wise Nation, +and I'll have you Lock'd up this Fortnight, without a Peephole. + +_Isab._ If we had but the Ghostly Helps in _England_, which they have in +_Spain_, I might deceive you if you did,--Sir, 'tis not the Restraint, +but the Innate Principles, secures the Reputation and Honour of our +Sex--Let me tell you, Sir, Confinement sharpens the Invention, as want +of Sight strengthens the other Senses, and is often more Pernicious than +the Recreation innocent Liberty allows. + +Sir _Jeal._ Say you so, Mistress, who the Devil taught you the Art of +Reasoning? I assure you, they must have a greater Faith than I pretend +to, that can think any Woman innocent who requires Liberty. Therefore, +_Patch_, to your Charge I give her; Lock her up till I come back from +Change: I shall have some sauntring Coxcomb, with nothing but a Red Coat +and a Feather, think, by Leaping into her Arms, to Leap into my +Estate--But I'll prevent them, she shall be only Signeur _Babinetto_'s. + +_Patch._ Really, Sir, I wish you wou'd employ any Body else in this +Affair; I lead a Life like a Dog with obeying your Commands. Come, +Madam, will you please to be Lock'd up. + +_Isab._ Ay, to enjoy more Freedom than he is aware of. + (_Aside._ + (_Exit with _Patch_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I believe this Wench is very true to my Interest: I am happy +I met with her, if I can but keep my Daughter from being blown upon till +Signeur _Babinetto_ arrives; who shall marry her as soon as he comes, +and carry her to _Spain_ as soon as he has marry'd her; she has a +pregnant Wit, and I'd no more have her an _English_ Wife, than the Grand +Signior's Mistress. + (_Exit._ + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whisp._ So, I see Sir _Jealous_ go out; where shall I find Mrs. _Patch_ +now. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh Mr. _Whisper_, my Lady saw you out at the Window, and +order'd me to bid you fly, and let your Master know she's now alone. + +_Whisp._ Hush, Speak softly; I go, go: But hark'e Mrs. _Patch_, shall +not you and I have a little Confabulation, when my Master and your Lady +is engag'd? + +_Patch._ Ay, Ay, Farewell. + (_Goes in, and shuts the Door._ + + _Re-enter Sir _Jealous Traffick_ meeting _Whisper_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Sure whil'st I was talking with Mr. _Tradewell_, I heard my +Door clap. (_Seeing _Whisper_._) Ha! a Man lurking about my House; who +do you want there, Sir? + +_Whisp._ Want--want, a pox, Sir _Jealous!_ what must I say now?-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, want; have you a Letter or Message for any Body +there?--O my Conscience, this is some He-Bawd-- + +_Whisp._ Letter or Message, Sir! + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, Letter or Message, Sir. + +_Whisp._ No, not I, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll have you set in the Stocks, if you +don't tell me your Business immediately. + +_Whisp._ Nay, Sir, my Business--is no great matter of Business neither; +and yet 'tis Business of Consequence too. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, don't trifle with me. + +_Whisp._ Trifle, Sir, have you found him, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ Found what, you Rascal. + +_Whisp._ Why _Trifle_ is the very Lap-Dog my Lady lost, Sir; I fancy'd I +see him run into this House. I'm glad you have him--Sir, my Lady will be +over-joy'd that 1 have found him. + +Sir _Jeal._ Who is your Lady Friend? + +_Whisp._ My Lady Love-puppy, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ My Lady Love-puppy! then prithee carry thy self to her, for +I know no other Whelp that belongs to her; and let me catch ye no more +Puppy-hunting about my Doors, lest I have you prest into the Service, +Sirrah. + +_Whisp._ By no means, Sir--Your humble Servant; I must watch whether he +goes, or no, before I can tell my Master. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ This Fellow has the Officious Leer of a Pimp; and I half +suspect a Design, but I'll be upon them before they think on me, I +warrant 'em. + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE __Charles_'s Lodging._ + + _Enter _Charles_ and _Marplot_._ + +_Char._ Honest _Marplot_, I thank thee for this Supply; I expect my +Lawyer with a Thousand Pound I have order'd him to take up, and then you +shall be Repaid. + +_Marpl._ Pho, pho, no more of that: Here comes Sir _George Airy_-- + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Cursedly out of Humour at his Disappointment; see how he looks! Ha, ha, +ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Ah, _Charles_, I am so humbled in my Pretensions to Plots +upon Women, that I believe I shall never have Courage enough to attempt +a Chamber-maid agen--I'll tell thee. + +_Char._ Ha, ha; I'll spare you the Relation by telling you--Impatient to +know your Business with my Father, when I saw you Enter, I slipt back +into the next Room, where I overheard every Syllable. + +Sir _Geo._ That I said--But I'll be hang'd if you heard her Answer--. +But prithee tell me, _Charles_, is she a Fool? + +_Char._ I ne'er suspected her for one; but _Marplot_ can inform you +better, if you'll allow him a Judge. + +_Marpl._ A Fool! I'll justifie she has more Wit than all the rest of her +Sex put together; why she'll Rally me, till I han't one word to say for +my self. + +_Char._ A mighty Proof of her Wit truly-- + +_Marpl._ There must be some Trick in't, Sir _George_; Egad I'll find it +out if it cost me the Sum you paid for't. + +Sir _Geo._ Do and Command me-- + +_Marpl._ Enough, let me alone to Trace a Secret.-- + + _Enter _Whisper_, and speaks aside to his Master._ + +The Devil! _Whisper_ here agen, that Fellow never speaks out; is this +the same, or a new Secret? Sir _George_, won't you ask _Charles_ what +News _Whisper_ brings? + +Sir _Geo._ Not I, Sir; I suppose it does not relate to me. + +_Marpl._ Lord, Lord, how little Curiosity some People have! Now my chief +Pleasure lies in knowing every Body's Business. + +Sir _Geo._ I fancy, _Charles_, thou hast some Engagement upon thy Hands: +I have a little Business too. _Marplot_, if it falls in your way to +bring me any Intelligence from _Miranda_, you'll find me at the Thatch'd +House at Six-- + +_Marpl._ You do me much Honour. + +_Char._ You guess right, Sir _George_, wish me Success. + +Sir _Geo._ Better than attended me. _Adieu_. + (_Exit._ + +_Char._ _Marplot_, you must Excuse me.-- + +_Marpl._ Nay, nay, what need of any Excuse amongst Friends! I'll go with +you. + +_Char._ Indeed you must not. + +_Marpl._ No, then I suppose 'tis a Duel, and I will go to secure ye. + +_Char._ Secure me, why you won't fight. + +_Marpl._ What then! I can call People to part ye. + +_Char._ Well, but it is no Duel, Consequently no Danger. Therefore +prithee be Answer'd. + +_Marpl._ What is't a Mistress then?--Mum--You know I can be silent upon +occasion. + +_Char._ I wish you cou'd be Civil too: I tell you, You neither Must nor +Shall go with me. Farewel. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Why then--I Must and Will follow you. + _Exit._ + + _The End of the Second Act._ + + + + +ACT the Third + + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +_Char._ Well, here's the House, which holds the Lovely Prize quiet and +serene; here no noisie Footmen throng to tell the World, that Beauty +dwells within; no Ceremonious Visit makes the Lover wait; no Rival to +give my Heart a Pang; who wou'd not scale the Window at Midnight without +fear of the Jealous Father's Pistol, rather than fill up the Train of a +Coquet, where every Minute he is jostled out of Place. (_Knocks +softly._) Mrs. _Patch_, Mrs. _Patch._ + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh, are you come, Sir? All's safe. + +_Char._ So in, in then. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ There he goes: Who the Devil lives here? Except I can find out +that, I am as far from knowing his Business as ever; gad I'll watch, it +may be a Bawdy-House, and he may have his Throat cut; if there shou'd be +any Mischief, I can make Oath, he went in. Well, _Charles_, in spight of +your Endeavour to keep me out of the Secret; I may save your Life, for +ought I know: At that Corner I'll plant my self; there I shall see +whoever goes in, or comes out. Gad, I love Discoveries. + _(Exit._ + + +SCENE _Draws. _Charles_, _Isabinda_, and _Patch_._ + +_Isab._ _Patch_, look out sharp; have a care of Dad. + +_Patch._ I warrant you. + _(Exit._ + +_Isab._ Well, Sir, if I may judge your Love by your Courage, I ought to +believe you sincere; for you venture into the Lyons Den when you come to +see me. + +_Char._ If you'd consent whilst the furious Beast is abroad, I'd free +you from the Reach of his Paws. + +_Isab._ That wou'd be but to avoid one Danger, by running into another; +like the poor Wretches, who fly the Burning Ship, and meet their Fate in +the Water. Come, come, _Charles_, I fear if I consult my Reason, +Confinement and Plenty is better than Liberty and Starving. I know you'd +make the Frolick pleasing for a little time, by Saying and Doing a World +of tender things; but when our small Substance is once Exhausted, and a +Thousand Requisits for Life are Wanting; Love, who rarely dwells with +Poverty, wou'd also fail us. + +_Char._ Faith, I fancy not; methinks my Heart has laid up a Stock will +last for Life; to back which, I have taken a Thousand Pound upon my +Uncle's Estate; that surely will support us, till one of our Fathers +relent. + +_Isab._ There's no trusting to that my Friend, I doubt your Father will +carry his Humour to the Grave, and mine till he sees me settled in +_Spain_. + +_Char._ And can ye then cruelly Resolve to stay till that curs'd _Don_ +arrives, and suffer that Youth, Beauty, Fire and Wit, to be sacrific'd +to the Arms of a dull _Spaniard_, to be Immur'd and forbid the Sight of +any thing that's Humane. + +_Isab._ No, when it comes to the Extremity, and no Stratagem can Relieve +us, thou shalt List for a Soldier, and I'll carry thy Knapsack after +thee. + +_Char._ Bravely Resolv'd; the World cannot be more Savage than our +Parents, and Fortune generally assists the Bold; therefore Consent now: +Why shou'd we put it to a future Hazard? who knows when we shall have +another Opportunity? + +_Isab._ Oh, you have your Ladder of Ropes, I suppose, and the Closet +Window stands just where it did; and if you han't forgot to write in +Characters, _Patch_ will find a way for our Assignations. Thus much of +the _Spanish_ Contrivance, my Father's Severity has taught me, I thank +him; tho' I hate the Nation, I admire their Management in these Affairs. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, I see my Master coming up the Street. + +_Char._ Oh the Devil, wou'd I had my Ladder now; I thought you had not +expected him till Night; why, why, why, why; what shall I do, Madam? + +_Isab._ Oh, for Heaven's sake! don't go that way, you'll meet him full +in the Teeth: Oh unlucky Moment!-- + +_Char._ Adsheart, can you shut me into no Cupboard, Ram me into no +Chest, ha? + +_Patch._ Impossible, Sir, he Searches every Hole in the House. + +_Isab._ Undone for ever! if he sees you, I shall never see you more. + +_Patch._ I have thought on't: Run you to your Chamber, Madam; and Sir, +come you along with me, I'm certain you may easily get down from the +Balcone. + +_Char._ My Life, _Adieu_--Lead on, Guide. + (_Exit._ + +_Isab._ Heaven preserve him. + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE Changes to the Street. + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_, with _Marplot_ behind him_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I don't know what's the matter; but I have a strong +Suspicion, all is not right within; that Fellow's sauntring about my +Door, and his Tale of a Puppy, had the Face of a Lye, methought. By St. +_Jago_, if I shou'd find a Man in the House, I'd make Mince-Meat of +him-- + +_Marpl._ Ah, poor _Charles_--ha? Agad he is old--I fancy I might bully +him, and make _Charles_ have an Opinion of my Courage. + +Sir _Jeal._ My own Key shall let me in; I'll give them no Warning. + (_Feeling for his Key._ + +_Marpl._ What's that you say, Sir. (_Going up to Sir _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What's that to you, Sir. (_Turns quick upon him._ + +_Marpl._ Yes, 'tis to me, Sir; for the Gentleman you threaten is a very +honest Gentleman. Look to't, for if he comes not as safe out of your +House, as he went in, I have half a Dozen _Mirmidons_ hard-by shall beat +it about your Ears. + +Sir _Jeal._ Went in; what is he in then? Ah! a Combination to undo +me--I'll _Mirmidon_ you, ye Dog you--Thieves, Thieves. + (_Beat_'s Marplot_ all this while he cries _Thieves_._ + +_Marpl._ Murder, Murder; I was not in your House, Sir. + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ What's the matter, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ The Matter, Rascals? Have you let a Man into my House; but +I'll flea him Alive, follow me, I'll not leave a Mousehole unsearch'd; +if I find him, by St. _Jago_, I'll Equip him for the _Opera._ + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ A Duce of his Cane, there's no trusting to Age--what shall I do +to Relieve _Charles!_ Egad, I'll raise the Neighbourhood--Murder, +Murder-- (__Charles_ drops down upon him from the Balcone._) _Charles_ +faith I'm glad to see thee safe out, with all my Heart. + +_Char._ A Pox of your Bawling: How the Devil came you here? + +_Marpl._ Here, gad I have done you a piece of Service; I told the old +Thunderbolt, that the Gentleman that was gone in was-- + +_Char._ Was it you that told him, Sir? (_Laying hold of him._) Z'death, +I cou'd crush thee into Atoms. + (_Exit _Charles_._ + +_Marpl._ What will you choak me for my Kindness?--will my Enquiring Soul +never leave Searching into other Peoples Affairs, till it gets squeez'd +out of my Body? I dare not follow him now, for my Blood, he's in such a +Passion--I'll to _Miranda_; if I can discover ought that may oblige Sir +_George_, it may be a means to Reconcile me agen to _Charles_. + (_Exit._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ and _Servants_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Are you sure you have search'd every where? + +_Serv._ Yes, from the Top of the House to the Bottom. + +Sir _Jeal._ Under the Beds, and over the Beds? + +_Serv._ Yes, and in them too, but found no Body, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why, what cou'd this Rogue mean? + + _Enter _Isabinda_ and _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Take Courage, Madam, I saw him safe out. (_Aside to _Isab_._ + +_Isab._ Bless me! what's the matter, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ You know best--Pray where's the Man that was here just now? + +_Isab._ What Man, Sir? I saw none! + +_Patch._ Nor I, by the Trust you repose in me; do you think I wou'd let +a Man come within these Doors, when you were absent? + +Sir _Jeal._ Ah _Patch_, she may be too cunning for thy Honesty; the very +Scout that he had set to give Warning discover'd it to me--and +threaten'd me with half a Dozen _Mirmidons_--But I think I maul'd the +Villain. These Afflictions you draw upon me, Mistress! + +_Isab._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis your own Ridiculous Humour draws you into +these Vexations, and gives every Fool pretence to banter you. + +Sir _Jeal._ No, 'tis your Idle Conduct, your Coquetish Flurting into the +Balcone--Oh with what Joy shall I resign thee into the Arms of Don +_Diego Babinetto!_ + +_Isab._ And with what Industry shall I avoid him! + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Certainly that Rogue had a Message from some body or other; +but being baulk'd by my coming, popt that Sham upon me. Come along, ye +Sots, let's see if we can find the Dog again. _Patch_, lock her up; D'ye +hear? + (_Exit with Servants._ + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir--ay, walk till your Heels ake, you'll find no Body, I +promise you. + +_Isab._ Who cou'd that Scout be, which he talks of? + +_Patch._ Nay, I can't imagine, without it was _Whisper_. + +_Isab._ Well, dear _Patch_, let's employ all our Thoughts how to escape +this horrid Don _Diego_, my very Heart sinks at his Terrible Name. + +_Patch._ Fear not, Madam, Don _Carlo_ shall be the Man, or I'll lose the +Reputation of Contriving, and then what's a Chambermaid good for? + +_Isab._ Say'st thou so, my Girl: Then-- + _Let Dad be Jealous, multiply his Cares, + While Love instructs me to avoid the Snares; + I'll, spight of all his _Spanish_ Caution, show + How much for Love a _British_ Maid can do._ + (Exit. + + +SCENE _Sir _Francis Gripe_'s House._ + +_Sir _Francis_ and _Miranda_ meeting._ + +_Miran._ Well, _Gardee_, how did I perform my Dumb Scene? + +Sir _Fran._ To Admiration--Thou dear little Rogue, let me buss thee for +it: Nay, adod, I will, _Chargee_, so muzle, and tuzle, and hug thee; I +will, I faith, I will. + (_Hugging and Kissing her._ + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, don't be so lavish; who wou'd Ride Post, when +the Journey lasts for Life? + +Sir _Fran._ Ah wag, ah wag--I'll buss thee agen for that. + +_Miran._ Faugh! how he stinks of Tobacco! what a delicate Bedfellow I +shou'd have! + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Oh I'm Transported! When, when, my Dear, wilt thou Convince +the World of thy Happy Day? when shall we marry, ha? + +_Miran._ There's nothing wanting but your Consent, Sir _Francis_. + +Sir _Fran._ My Consent! what do's my Charmer mean? + +_Miran._ Nay, 'tis only a Whim: But I'll have every thing according to +form--Therefore when you sign an Authentick Paper, drawn up by an able +Lawyer, that I have your Leave to marry, the next Day makes me yours, +_Gardee_. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, a Whim indeed! why is it not Demonstration I +give my Leave when I marry thee. + +_Miran._ Not for your Reputation, _Gardee_; the malicious World will be +apt to say, you trick'd me into Marriage, and so take the Merit from my +Choice. Now I will have the Act my own, to let the idle Fops see how +much I prefer a Man loaded with Years and Wisdom. + +Sir _Fran._ Humph! Prithee leave out Years, _Chargee_, I'm not so old, +as thou shalt find: Adod, I'm young; there's a Caper for ye. + (_Jumps_. + +_Miran._ Oh never excuse it, why I like you the better for being +old--But I shall suspect you don't love me, if you Refuse me this +Formality. + +Sir _Fran._ Not Love thee, _Chargee!_ Adod I do love thee better than, +than, than, better than--what shall I say? Egad, better than Money, I +faith I do-- + +_Miran._ That's false I'm sure (_Aside._) To prove it do this then. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, I will do it, _Chargee_, provided I bring a License at +the same time. + +_Miran._ Ay, and a Parson too, if you please; Ha, ha, ha, I can't help +Laughing to think how all the young Coxcombs about Town will be +mortify'd when they hear of our Marriage. + +Sir _Fran._ So they will, so they will; Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Well, I fancy I shall be so happy with my _Gardee!_ + +Sir _Fran._ If wearing Pearls and Jewels, or eating Gold, as the old +Saying is, can make thee happy, thou shalt be so, my Sweetest, my +Lovely, my Charming, my--verily I know not what to call thee. + +_Miran._ You must know, _Gardee_, that I am so eager to have this +Business concluded, that I have employ'd my Womans Brother, who is a +Lawyer in the _Temple_, to settle Matters just to your Liking, you are +to give your Consent to my Marriage, which is to your self, you know: +But Mum, you must take up notice of that. So then I will, that is, with +your Leave, put my Writings into his Hands; then to Morrow we come slap +upon them with a Wedding, that no body thought on; by which you seize me +and my Estate, and I suppose make a Bonfire of your own Act and Deed. + +Sir _Fran._ Nay, but _Chargee_, if-- + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, no Ifs--Have I refus'd three _Northern_ Lords, +two _British_ Peers, and half a score Knights, to have you put in your +Ifs?-- + +Sir _Fran._ So thou hast indeed, and I will trust to thy Management. Od, +I'm all of a Fire. + +_Miran._ 'Tis a wonder the dry Stubble does not blaze. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +Sir _Fran._ How now! who sent for you, Sir? What's the Hundred Pound +gone already? + +_Marpl._ No, Sir, I don't want Money now. + +Sir _Fran._ No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want, I'm +sure. + +_Marpl._ Ay, what's that, _Guardian?_ + +Sir _Fran._ Manners, what had I no Servants without? + +_Marpl._ None that cou'd do my Business, _Guardian_, which is at present +with this Lady. + +_Miran._ With me, Mr. _Marplot!_ what is it, I beseech you? + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, what is it? any thing that relates to her may be +deliver'd to me. + +_Marpl._ I deny that. + +_Miran._ That's more than I do, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Indeed, Madam, why then to proceed: Fame says, that you and my +most Conscionable _Guardian_ here, design'd, contriv'd, plotted and +agreed to chouse a very civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, out of a +Hundred Pound. + +_Miran._ That I contrived it! + +_Marpl._ Ay you--You said never a Word against it, so far you are +Guilty. + +Sir _Fran._ Pray tell that civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, that if +he has any more such Sums to fool away, they shall be received like the +last; Ha, ha, ha, ha, chous'd, quotha! But hark ye, let him know at the +same time, that if he dare to report I trick'd him of it, I shall +recommend a Lawyer to him shall shew him a Trick for twice as much; D'ye +hear, tell him that. + +_Marpl._ So, and this is the way you use a Gentleman, and my Friend. + +_Miran._ Is the Wretch thy Friend? + +_Marpl._ The Wretch! Look ye, Madam, don't call Names; Egad I won't take +it. + +_Miran._ Why you won't beat me, will you? Ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ I don't know whether I will or no. + +Sir _Fran._ Sir, I shall make a Servant shew you out at the Window if +you are sawcy. + +_Marpl._ I am your most humble Servant, _Guardian_; I design to go out +the same way I came in. I wou'd only ask this Lady, if she do's not +think in her Soul Sir _George Airy_ is not a fine Gentleman. + +_Miram._ He Dresses well. + +Sir _Fran._ Which is chiefly owing to his Taylor, and _Valet de +Chamber_. + +_Miran._ And if you allow that a proof of his being a fine Gentleman, he +is so. + +_Marpl._ The judicious part of the World allow him Wit, Courage, +Gallantry and Management; tho' I think he forfeited that Character, when +he flung away a Hundred Pound upon your Dumb Ladyship. + +Sir _Fran._ Does that gaul him? Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ So, Sir _George_ remaining in deep Discontent, has sent you his +trusty Squire, to utter his Complaint: Ha, ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, value it +no more--than I wou'd your Ladyship, were I Sir _George_, you, you, +you-- + +_Miran._ Oh, don't call Names. I know you love to be employ'd, and I'll +oblige you; and you shall carry him a Message from me. + +_Marpl._ According as I like it: What is it? + +_Miran._ Nay, a kind one you may be sure--First tell him, I have chose +this Gentleman to have, and to hold, and so forth. + (_Clapping her Hand into Sir _Francis_'s._ + +Sir _Fran._ Oh the dear Rogue, how I dote on her! + (_Aside._ + +_Miran._ And advise his Impertinence to trouble me no more, for I prefer +Sir _Francis_ for a Husband before all the Fops in the Universe. + +_Marpl._ Oh Lord, Oh Lord! She's bewitch'd, that's certain; Here's a +Husband for Eighteen--Here's a Shape--Here's Bones ratling in a Leathern +Bag. (_Turning Sir _Francis_ about._) Here's Buckram, and Canvass, to +scrub you to Repentance. + +Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, my Cane shall teach you Repentance presently. + +_Marpl._ No faith, I have felt its Twin-Brother from just such a +wither'd Hand too lately. + +_Miran._ One thing more, advise him to keep from the Garden Gate on the +left Hand; for if he dares to saunter there, about the Hour of Eight, as +he used to do, he shall be saluted with a Pistol or a Blunderbuss. + +_Sir Fran._ Oh monstrous! why _Chargee_; did he use to come to the +Garden Gate? + +_Miran._ The Gardner describ'd just such another Man that always watch'd +his coming out, and fain wou'd have bribed him for his Entrance--tell +him he shall find a warm Reception if he comes this Night. + +_Marpl._ Pistols and Blunderbusses! Egad, a warm Reception indeed; I +shall take care to inform him of your Kindness, and advise him to keep +farther off. + +_Miran._ I hope he will understand my Meaning better, than to follow +your Advice. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Thou hast sign'd, seal'd, and ta'en Possession of my Heart; +for ever, _Chargee_, Ha, ha, ha; and for you, Mr. Sauce-box, let me have +no more of your Messages, if ever you design to inherit your Estate, +Gentleman. + +_Marpl._ Why there 'tis now. Sure I shall be out of your Clutches one +Day.--Well, _Guardian_, I say no more; but if you be not as errant a +Cuckold, as e're drove Bargain upon the Exchange, or paid Attendance to +a Court; I am the Son of a Whetstone; and so your humble Servant. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ Don't forget the Message; Ha, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ I am so provok'd!--'tis well he's gone. + +_Miran._ Oh mind him not, _Gardee_, but let's sign Articles, and then-- + +Sir _Fran._ And then--Adod, I believe I am Metamorphos'd; my Pulse beats +high, and my Blood boils, methinks-- + (_Kissing and Hugging her._ + +_Miran._ Oh fye, _Gardee_, be not so violent; Consider the Market lasts +all the Year--Well, I'll in and see if the Lawyer be come, you'll +follow. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, to the World's End, my Dear. Well, _Franck_, thou art a +lucky Fellow in thy old Age, to have such a delicate Morsel, and Thirty +Thousand Pound in love with thee; I shall be the Envy of Batchelors, the +Glory of Marry'd Men, and the Wonder of the Town. Some Guardians wou'd +be glad to compound for part of the Estate, at dispatching an Heiress, +but I engross the whole: _O! Mihi præteritos referet si Jupiter Annos._ + (Exit. + + +SCENE _Changes to a Tavern; discovers Sir _George_ and _Charles_ with +Wine before them, and _Whisper_ waiting._ + +Sir _Geo._ Nay, prithee don't be Grave, _Charles;_ Misfortunes will +happen: Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort to have a Companion in our +Sufferings. + +_Char._ I am only apprehensive for _Isabinda_, her Father's Humour is +implacable; and how far his Jealousie may transport him to her Undoing, +shocks my Soul to think. + +Sir _Geo._ But since you escap'd undiscover'd by him, his Rage will +quickly lash into a Calm, never fear it. + +_Char._ But who knows what that unlucky Dog, _Marplot_, told him; nor +can I imagine what brought him thither; that Fellow is ever doing +Mischief; and yet, to give him his due, he never designs it. This is +some Blundering Adventure, wherein he thought to shew his Friendship, as +he calls it: A Curse on him. + +Sir _Geo._ Then you must forgive him; what said he? + +_Char._ Said! nay, I had more mind to cut his Throat, than hear his +Excuses. + +Sir _Geo._ Where is he? + +_Whisp._ Sir, I saw him go into Sir _Francis Gripe_'s just now. + +_Char._ Oh! then he is upon your Business, Sir _George_; a thousand to +one, but he makes some Mistake there too. + +Sir _Geo._ Impossible, without he huffs the Lady, and makes Love to Sir +_Francis_. + + _Enter Drawer._ + +_Draw._ Mr. _Marplot_ is below, Gentlemen, and desires to know if he may +have Leave to wait upon ye. + +_Char._ How civil the Rogue is when he has done a fault! + +Sir _Geo._ Ho! Desire him to walk up. Prithee, _Charles_, throw off this +Chagreen, and be good Company. + +_Char._ Nay, hang him, I'm not angry with him. _Whisper_, fetch me Pen, +Ink and Paper. + +_Whisp._ Yes, Sir. + + (_Ex. _Whisp_._ + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Char._ Do but mark his sheepish Look, Sir _George_. + +_Marpl._ Dear _Charles,_ don't o'erwhelm a Man--already under +insupportable Affliction. I'm sure I always intend to serve my Friends; +but if my malicious Stars deny the Happiness, is the fault mine? + +Sir _Geo._ Never mind him, Mr. _Marplot_, he is eat up with Spleen. But +tell me, what says _Miranda?_ + +_Marpl._ Says--nay, we are all undone there too. + +_Char._ I told you so; nothing prospers that he undertakes. + +_Marpl._ Why can I help her having chose your Father for Better for +Worse? + +_Char._ So: There's another of Fortune's Strokes; I suppose I shall be +Edg'd out of my Estate, with Twins every Year, let who will get 'em. + +Sir _Geo._ What is the Woman really Possest? + +_Marpl._ Yes with the Spirit of Contradiction, she rail'd at you most +prodigiously. + +Sir _Geo._ That's no ill Sign. + + _Enter _Whisper_, with Pen, Ink and Paper._ + +_Marpl._ You'd say it was no good Sign, if you knew all. + +Sir _Geo._ Why, prithee? + +_Marpl._ Hark'e, Sir _George_, Let me warn you, pursue your old Haunt no +more, it may be dangerous. + (Charles _sits down to write._ + +Sir _Geo._ My old Haunt, what d'you mean? + +_Marpl._ Why in short then, since you will have it, _Miranda_ vows if +you dare approach the Garden-Gate at Eight a Clock, as you us'd, you +shall be saluted with a Blunderbuss, Sir. These were her Words; nay, she +bid me tell you so too. + +Sir _George_, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, as I us'd to do! There must +be a Meaning in this. Is there such a Gate, _Charles?_ + +_Char._ Yes, yes; it opens into the Park, I suppose her Ladyship has +made many a Scamper through it. + +Sir _Geo_. It must be an Assignation then. Ha, my Heart springs with +Joy, 'tis a propitious Omen. My dear _Marplot_, let me embrace thee, +thou art my Friend, my better Angel-- + +_Marpl._ What do you mean, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ No matter what I mean. Here take a Bumper to the Garden-Gate, +ye dear Rogue, you. + +_Marpl._ You have Reason to be transported, Sir _George_; I have sav'd +your Life. + +Sir _Geo_. My Life! thou hast sav'd my Soul, Man. _Charles_, if thou +do'st not pledge this Health, may'st thou never taste the Joys of Love. + +_Char._ _Whisper_, be sure you take care how you deliver this (_gives +him the Letter_) bring me the Answer to my Lodgings. + +_Whisp._ I warrant you, Sir. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Whither does that Letter go?--Now dare I not ask for my Blood. + +_Char._ Now I'm for you. + +Sir _Geo._ To the Garden-Gate at the Hour of Eight, _Charles_, along, +Huzza! + +_Char._ I begin to conceive you. + +_Marpl._ That's more than I do, Egad--to the Garden-Gate, Huzza, +(_Drinks._) But I hope you design to keep far enough off on't, Sir +_George_. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, ay, never fear that; she shall see I despise her Frowns, +let her use her Blunderbuss against the next Fool, she shan't reach me +with the Smoak, I warrant her, Ha, ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Ah, _Charles_, if you cou'd receive a Disappointment thus _En +Cavalier_, one shou'd have some comfort in being beat for you. + +_Char._ The Fool comprehends nothing. + +Sir _Geo._ Nor wou'd I have him; prithee take him along with thee. + +_Char._ Enough: _Marplot_, you shall go home with me. + +_Marpl._ I'm glad I'm well with him however. Sir _George_, yours. Egad, +_Charles_, asking me to go home with him, gives me a shrewd suspicion +there's more in the Garden-Gate, than I comprehend. Faith, I'll give him +the drop, and away to _Guardians_, and find it out. + +Sir _Geo._ I kiss both your Hands--And now for the Garden-Gate. + + _It's Beauty gives the Assignation there,_ + _And Love too powerful grows t' admit of Fear._ + (_Exit._ + +_The End of the Third Act._ + + + + +ACT the Fourth. + +SCENE the Out-side of Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House, _Patch_ peeping +out of Door. + + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whisp._ Ha, Mrs. _Patch_, this is a lucky Minute, to find you so +readily, my Master dies with Impatience. + +_Patch._ My Lady imagin'd so, and by her Orders I have been scouting +this hour in search of you, to inform you that Sir _Jealous_ has invited +some Friends to Supper with him to Night, which gives an Opportunity to +your Master to make use of his Ladder of Ropes: The Closet Window shall +be open, and _Isabinda_ ready to receive him; bid him come immediately. + +_Whisp._ Excellent, He'll not disappoint I warrant him: But hold, I have +a Letter here, which I'm to carry an Answer of: I can't think what +Language the Direction is. + +_Patch._ Pho, 'tis no Language, but a Character which the Lovers +invented to avert Discovery: Ha, I hear my old Master coming down +Stairs, it is impossible you shou'd have an Answer; away, and bid him +come himself for that--begone we are ruined if you're seen, for he has +doubl'd his Care since the last Accident. + +_Whisp._ I go, I go. + [_Exit._ + +_Patch._ There, go thou into my Pocket. [_Puts it besides, and it falls +down._] Now I'll up the back Stairs, lest I meet him. Well, a dexterous +Chamber-maid is the Ladies best Utensil, I say. + [_Exit._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ with a Letter in his Hand._ + +Sir _Jeal._ So, this is some Comfort, this tells me that _Seignior Don +Diego Babinetto_ is safely arriv'd, he shall marry my Daughter the +Minute he comes, ha. What's here [_takes up the Letter _Patch_ drop'd_] +a Letter! I don't know what to make of the Superscription. I'll see +what's within side, [_opens it_] humph; 'tis _Hebrew_ I think. What can +this mean. There must be some trick in it; this was certainly design'd +for my Daughter, but I don't know that she can speak any Language but +her Mother-Tongue. No matter for that, this may be one of Love's +Hieroglyphicks, and I fancy I saw _Patch_'s Tail sweep by. That Wench +may be a Slut, and instead of guarding my Honour, betray it; I'll find +it out I'm resolv'd; who's there? What Answer did you bring from the +Gentlemen I sent you to invite? + +_Serv._ That they'd all wait of you, Sir, as I told you before, but I +suppose you forget, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did I so, Sir, but I shan't forget to break your Head, if +any of 'em come, Sir. + +_Serv._ Come, Sir, why did not you send me to desire their Company, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ But I send you now to desire their Absence; say I have +something extraordinary fallen out, which calls me abroad, contrary to +Expectation, and ask their Pardon, and d'ye hear, send the Butler to me. + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + [_Exit._ + + _Enter _Butler_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ If this Paper has a Meaning I'll find it. Lay the Cloath in +my Daughter's Chamber, and bid the Cook send Supper thither presently. + +_Butl._ Yes, Sir,--hey day, what's the Matter now? + [_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ He wants the Eyes of _Argus_, that has a young handsome +Daughter in this Town, but my Comfort is, I shall not be troubl'd long +with her. He that pretends to rule a Girl once in her Teens, had better +be at Sea in a Storm, and would be in less Danger. + _For let him do, or Counsel all he can,_ + _She thinks and dreams of nothing else but Man._ + [_Exit._ + + +SCENE _Isabinda_'s Chamber, _Isabinda_ and _Patch_. + +_Isab._ Are you sure, no Body saw you speak to _Whisper?_ + +_Patch._ Yes, very sure Madam, but I heard Sir _Jealous_ coming down +Stairs, so I clap'd this Letter into my Pocket. + (_Feels for the Letter._ + +_Isab._ A Letter! give it me quickly. + +_Patch._ Bless me! what's become on't--I'm sure I put it-- + (_Searching still._ + +_Isab._ Is it possible, thou could'st be so Careless--Oh! I'm undone for +ever if it be lost. + +_Patch._ I must have drop'd it upon the Stairs. But why are you so much +alarm'd, if the worst happens no body can read it, Madam, nor find out +whom it was design'd for. + +_Isab._ If it falls into my Father's Hands the very Figure of a Letter +will produce ill Consequences. Run and look for it upon the Stairs this +Moment. + +_Patch._ Nay, I'm sure it can be no where else.-- (_As she's going out +of the Door meets the Butler._) How now, what do you want? + +_Butl._ My Master order'd me to lay the Cloth here for his Supper. + +_Isab._ Ruin'd past Redemption-- + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ You mistake sure; what shall we do? + +_Isab._ I thought he expected Company to Night--Oh! poor _Charles_--Oh! +unfortunate _Isabinda_. + +_Butl._ I thought so too Madam, but I suppose he has alter'd his Mind. + (_Lays the Cloth, and Exit._ + +_Isab._ The Letter is the Cause; this heedless Action has undone me: Fly +and fasten the Closet-window, which will give _Charles_ notice to +retire. Ha, my Father, oh! Confusion. + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hold, hold, _Patch_, whither are you going. I'll have no +body stir out of the Room till after Supper. + +_Patch._ Sir, I was only going to reach your easie Chair--Oh! wretched +Accident! + +Sir _Jeal._ I'll have no body stir out of the Room. I don't want my +easie Chair. + +_Isab._ What will be the event of this? (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hark ye Daughter, do you know this Hand? + +_Isab._ As I suspected--Hand do you call it, Sir? 'Tis some School-boy's +Scraul. + +_Patch._ Oh! Invention, thou Chamber-maid's best Friend, assist me. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Are you sure you don't understand it? + +(_Patch._ _Feels in her Bosom, and shakes her Coats._) + +_Isab._ Do you understand it, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ I wish I did. + +_Isab._ Thank Heaven you do not. (_aside_) Then I know no more of it +than you do indeed, Sir. + +_Patch._ Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have you done, Sir? Why the Paper is +mine, I drop'd it out of my Bosom. + (_Snatching it from him._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! yours, Mistress. + +_Isab._ What does she mean by owning it. + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir, it is. + +Sir _Jeal._ What is it? Speak. + +_Patch._ Why, Sir, it is a Charm for the Tooth-ach--I have worn it this +seven Year, 'twas given me by an Angel for ought I know, when I was +raving with the Pain; for no body knew from whence he came, nor whither +he went, he charg'd me never to open it, lest some dire Vengeance befal +me, and Heaven knows what will be the Event. Oh! cruel Misfortune that I +should drop it, and you should open it--If you had not open'd it-- + +_Isab._ Excellent Wench. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Pox of your Charms, and Whims for me, if that be all 'tis +well enough; there, there, burn it, and I warrant you no Vengeance will +follow. + +_Patch._ So, all's right again thus far. + (_Aside._ + +_Isab._ I would not lose _Patch_ for the World--I'll take courage a +little. (_aside_) Is this Usage for your Daughter, Sir, must my Virtue +and Conduct be suspected? For every Trifle, you immure me like some dire +Offender here, and deny me all Recreations which my Sex enjoy, and the +Custom of the Country and Modesty allow; yet not content with that you +make my Confinement more intolerable by your Mistrusts and Jealousies; +wou'd I were dead, so I were free from this. + (_Weeps._ + +Sir _Jeal._ To morrow rids you of this tiresome Load,--_Don Diego +Babinetto_ will be here, and then my Care ends and his begins. + +_Isab._ Is he come then! Oh how shall I avoid this hated Marriage? + (_Aside._ + + _Enter Servants with Supper._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come will you sit down? + +_Isab._ I can't eat, Sir. + +_Patch._ No, I dare swear he has given her Supper enough. I wish I cou'd +get into the Closet-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Well, if you can't eat, then give me a Song whilst I do. + +_Isab._ I have such a Cold I can scarce speak, Sir, much less sing. How +shall I prevent _Charles_ coming in. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I hope you have the Use of your Fingers, Madam. Play a Tune +upon your _Spinnet_, whilst your Woman sings me a Song. + +_Patch._ I'm as much out of Tune as my Lady, if he knew all. + (_Aside._ + +_Isab._ I shall make excellent Musick. (_Sits down to play._ + +_Patch._ Really, Sir, I'm so frighted about your opening this Charm, +that I can't remember one Song. + +Sir _Jeal._ Pish, hang your Charm; come, come, sing any thing. + +_Patch._ Yes, I'm likely to sing truly (_aside_) humph, humph, bless me, +Sir, I cannot raise my Voice, my Heart pants so. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why, what does your Heart pant so that you can't play +neither? Pray what Key are you in, ha? + +_Patch._ Ah, wou'd the Key was turn'd of you once. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Why don't you sing, I say! + +_Patch._ When Madam has put her _Spinnet_ in Tune, Sir, humph, humph.-- + +_Isab._ I cannot play, Sir, whatever ails me. + (_Rising._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Zounds sit down, and play me a Tune, or I'll break the +_Spinnet_ about your Ears. + +_Isab._ What will become of me? + (_Sits down and plays._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come, Mistress. + (_To_ Patch + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir. + (_Sings, but horribly out of Tune._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hey, hey, why you are a top of the House, and you are down +in the Cellar. What is the meaning of this? Is it on purpose to cross +me, ha? + +_Patch._ Pray Madam, take it a little lower, I cannot reach that +Note--nor any Note I fear. + +_Isab._ Well, begin--Oh! _Patch_ we shall be discover'd. + +_Patch._ I sink with the Apprehension, Madam,--humph, humph-- (_Sings_) + + (__Charles_ pulls open the Closet Door._ + +_Char._ Musick and Singing + _'Tis thus the bright Coelestial Court above,_ + _Beguiles the Hours with Musick and with Love._ +Death! her Father there, (_The Women shriek_) then I must fly-- + (_Exit into the Closet_) + + (_Sir _Jealous_ rises up hastily, seeing _Charles_ slip back into + the Closet._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hell and Furies, a Man in the Closet-- + +_Patch._ Ah! a Ghost, a Ghost--he must not enter the Closet-- + (Isabinda _throws her self down before the Closet-door as in + a Sound._ + +Sir _Jeal._ The Devil! I'll make a Ghost of him I warrant you. + (_Strives to get by._ + +_Patch._ Oh hold, Sir, have a care, you'l tread upon my Lady-- who waits +there? Bring some Water: Oh! this comes of your opening the Charm: Oh, +oh, oh, oh. + (_Weeps aloud._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I'll Charm you, House-wife, here lies the Charm, that +conjur'd this Fellow in I'm sure on't, come out you Rascal, do so: +Zounds take her from the Door, or I'll spurn her from it, and break your +Neck down Stairs. + +_Isab._ Oh, oh, where am I--He's gone, I heard him leap down. + (_Aside to _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Nay, then let him enter--here, here Madam, smell to this; come +give me your Hand; come nearer to the Window, the Air will do you good. + +Sir _Jeal._ I wou'd she were in her Grave. Where are you, Sirrah, +Villain, Robber of my Honour; I'll pull you out of your Nest. + (_Goes into the Closet._ + +_Patch._ You'l be mistaken, old Gentleman, the Bird is flown. + +_Isab._ I'm glad I have 'scap'd so well. I was almost dead in earnest +with the Fright. + + _Re-enter Sir _Jealous_ out of the Closet._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Whoever the Dog were he has escap'd out of the Window, for +the Sash is up. But tho' he is got out of my Reach, you are not: And +first Mrs. _Pandor_, with your Charms for Tooth-ach, get out of my +House, go, troop; yet hold, stay, I'll see you out of my Doors my self, +but I'll secure your Charge e'er I go. + +_Isab._ What do you mean, Sir? Was she not a Creature of your own +providing? + +Sir _Jeal._ She was of the Devil's providing for ought I know. + +_Patch._ What have I done, Sir to merit your Displeasure? + +Sir _Jeal._ I don't know which of you have done it; but you shall both +suffer for it, till I can discover whose Guilt it is: Go get in there, +I'll move you from this side of the House (_Pushes _Isabinda_ in at the +other Door, and locks it; puts the Key in his Pocket._) I'll keep the +Key my self: I'll try what Ghost will get into that Room. And now +forsooth I'll wait on you down Stairs. + +_Patch._ Ah, my poor Lady--Down Stairs, Sir, but I won't go out, Sir, +till I have look'd up my Cloaths. + +Sir _Jeal._ If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou should'st +not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your Mistress is +marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that belongs to you; +but till then-- + (_Exit, pulling her out._ + +_Patch._ Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing. + + _Re-enter at the lower Door._ + +Sir _Jeal._ There, go, and, come no more within sight of my Habitation, +these three Days, I charge you. + (_Slaps the Door after her._ + +_Patch._ Did ever any Body see such an old Monster! + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +_Patch._ Oh! Mr. _Charles_ your Affairs and mine are in an ill Posture. + +_Char._ I am immur'd to the Frowns of Fortune: But what has befal'n +thee? + +_Patch._ Sir _Jealous_, whose suspicious Nature's always on the Watch; +nay, even whilst one Eye sleeps, the other keeps Sentinel: Upon sight of +you, flew into such a violent Passion, that I cou'd find no Stratagem to +appease him, but in spight of all Arguments, lock'd his Daughter into +his own Apartment, and turn'd me out of Doors. + +_Char._ Ha! oh, _Isabinda_. + +_Patch._ And swears she shall neither see Sun nor Moon, till she is _Don +Diego Babinetto_'s Wife, who arrived last Night, and is expected with +impatience. + +_Char._ He dies, yes, by all the Wrongs of Love he shall; here will I +plant my self, and thro' my Breast he shall make his Passage, if he +enters. + +_Patch._ A most heroick Resolution. There might be ways found out more +to your Advantage. Policy is often preferr'd to open force. + +_Char._ I apprehend you not. + +_Patch._ What think you of personating this _Spaniard_, imposing upon +the Father, and marrying your Mistress by his own Consent. + +_Char._ Say'st thou so my Angel! Oh cou'd that be done, my Life to come +wou'd be too short to recompence thee: But how can I do that, when I +neither know what Ship he came in, nor from what part of _Spain_; who +recommends him, nor how attended. + +_Patch._ I can solve all this. He is from _Madrid_, his Father's Name +_Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto_. Here's a Letter of his to Sir +_Jealous_, which he drop'd one Day; you understand _Spanish_, and the +Hand may be counterfeited: You conceive me, Sir. + +_Char._ My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll about +it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters. + + (_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE a Garden Gate open, _Scentwell_ waiting within. + + _Enter Sir _George Airy_._ + +Sir _Geo._ So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If there +shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my Fall +make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be +roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all. + +_Scentw._ Hist, hist, Sir _George Airy_-- + (_Enters._ + +Sir _Geo._ A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear. + +_Scentw._ No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, give me +your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Passage and dirty Step before +you arrive-- + +Sir _Geo._ I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore be quick +my charming Guide. + +_Scentw._ For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away. + +Sir _Geo._ Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my Desires. + + (_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE the House. + + _Enter _Miranda_._ + +_Miran._ Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now don't I +transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice of the +Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have marry'd +me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir _George_ is what +I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his Character, am satisfied +in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a hundred Pound only to +have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So I find my liking him +has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; and now the only +Doubt remains whether he will come or no. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight. + _Exit_ Scentwell. + +Sir _Geo._ And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose Idea +fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams! + +_Miran._ What beginning again in Heroicks!--Sir _George_, don't you +remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal Oration produced, not one +bare single Word in answer. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! the Voice of my _Incognita_--Why did you take Ten +Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had vanquish'd? + +_Miran._ Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but short, +and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that same +terrible Bugbear, _Matrimony_, without heartily Repenting on both sides. + +Sir _Geo._ It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes beheld ye. + +_Miran._ And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had Thirty +Thousand Pound. + +Sir _Geo._ Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd Minutes to run +the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that lovely Person +to my Arms. + +_Miran._ Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our Woing +has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the World +see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty-- + +Sir _Geo._ Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the envy'd +Pair-- + +_Miran._ Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to venture on +dangerous Experiments headlong--My _Guardian_, trusting to my dissembled +Love, has given up my Fortune to my own dispose; but with this +_Proviso_, that he to Morrow morning weds me. He is now gone to _Doctors +Commons_ for a License. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, a License! + +_Miran._ But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him down to +_Epsom_, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of his, is to make him his +Executor; the thing on Earth he covets. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis his known Character. + +_Miran._ Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and he sends +me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can be +undeceiv'd. That time is ours. + +Sir _Geo._ Let us improve it then, and settle on our coming Years, +endless, endless Happiness. + +_Miran._ I dare not stir till I hear he's on the Road--then I and my +Writings, the most material point, are soon removed. + +Sir _Geo._ I have one Favour to ask, if it lies in your power, you wou'd +be a Friend to poor _Charles_, tho' the Son of this tenacious Man: He is +as free from all his Vices, as Nature and a good Education can make him; +and what now I have vanity enough to hope will induce you, he is the Man +on Earth I love. + +_Miran._ I never was his Enemy, and only put it on as it help'd my +Designs on his Father. If his Uncle's Estate ought to be in his +Possession, which I shrewdly suspect, I may do him a singular piece of +Service. + +Sir _Geo._ You are all Goodness. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. _Marplot_ are just coming into +the House. + +_Miran._ Undone, undone! if he finds you here in this Crisis, all my +Plots are unravell'd. + +Sir _Geo._ What shall I do! can't I get back into the Garden? + +_Scentw._ Oh, no! he comes up those Stairs. + +_Miran._ Here, here, here! can you condescend to stand behind this +Chimney-Board, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ Any where, any where, dear Madam, without Ceremony. + +_Scentw._ Come, come, Sir; lie close-- + (_They put him behind the Chimney-Board._ + + _Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_: Sir _Francis_ peeling an Orange_._ + +Sir _Fran._ I cou'd not go, tho' 'tis upon Life and Death, without +taking leave of dear _Chargee_. Besides, this Fellow buz'd in my Ears, +that thou might'st be so desperate to shoot that wild Rake which haunts +the Garden-Gate; and that wou'd bring us into Trouble, dear-- + +_Miran._ So, _Marplot_ brought you back then: I am oblig'd to him for +that, I'm sure-- + (_Frowning at _Marplot_ aside._ + +_Marpl._ By her Looks she means she is not oblig'd to me. I have done +some Mischief now, but what I can't imagine. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, _Chargee_, I have had three Messengers to come to +_Epsom_ to my Neighbour _Squeezum_'s who, for all his vast Riches, is +departing. + (_Sighs._ + +_Marpl._ Ay, see what all you Usurers must come to. + +Sir _Fran._ Peace, ye young Knave! Some Forty Years hence I may think +on't--But, _Chargee_, I'll be with thee to Morrow, before those pretty +Eyes are open; I will, I will, _Chargee_, I'll rouze you, I saith.--Here +Mrs. _Scentwell_, lift up your Lady's Chimney-Board, that I may throw my +Peel in, and not litter her Chamber. + +_Miran._ Oh my Stars! what will become of us now? + +_Scentw._ Oh, pray Sir, give it me; I love it above all things in +Nature, indeed I do. + +Sir _Fran._ No, no, Hussy; you have the Green Pip already, I'll have no +more Apothecary's Bills. + (_Goes towards the Chimney._ + +_Miran._ Hold, hold, hold, dear _Gardee_, I have a, a, a, a, a Monkey +shut up there; and if you open it before the Man comes that is to tame +it, 'tis so wild 'twill break all my China, or get away, and that wou'd +break my Heart; for I am fond on't to Distraction, next thee, dear +_Gardee_. + (_In a flattering Tone._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, well, _Chargee_, I wont open it; she shall have her +Monkey, poor Rogue; here throw this Peel out of the Window. + + (_Exit _Scentwell_._ + +_Marpl._ A Monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame a Monkey as +well as the best of them all. Oh how I love the little Minatures of Man. + +_Miran._ Be quiet, Mischief, and stand farther from the Chimney--You +shall not see my Monkey--why sure-- + (_Striving with him._ + +_Marpl._ For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, let me but peep, to see if it be +as pretty as my Lady _Fiddle-Faddle_'s. Has it got a Chain? + +_Miran._ Not yet, but I design it one shall last its Life-time: Nay, you +shall not see it--Look, _Gardee_, how he teazes me! + +Sir _Fran._ (_Getting between him and the Chimney._) Sirrah, Sirrah, let +my _Chargee_'s Monkey alone, or _Bambo_ shall fly about your Ears. What +is there no dealing with you? + +_Marpl._ Pugh, pox of the Monkey! here's a Rout: I wish he may Rival +you. + + _Enter a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, they put two more Horses in the Coach, as you order'd, and +'tis ready at the Door. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, I'm going to be Executor, better for thee, Jewel. B'ye +_Chargee_, one Buss!--I'm glad thou hast got a a Monkey to divert thee a +little. + +_Miran._ Thank'e, dear _Gardee_.--Nay, I'll see you to the Coach. + +Sir _Fran._ That's kind, adod. + +_Miran._ Come along, Impertinence. + (_To _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ (_Stepping back._) Egad, I will see the Monkey: Now (_Lifts up +the Board, and discovers Sir_ George_._) Oh Lord, Oh Lord! Thieves, +Thieves, Murder! + +Sir _Geo._ Dam'e, you unlucky Dog! 'tis I, which way shall I get out, +shew me instantly, or I'll cut your Throat. + +_Marpl._ Undone, undone! At that Door there. But hold, hold, break that +China, and I'll bring you off. + (_He runs off at the Corner, and throws down some China._ + + _Re-enter Sir _Francis_, _Miranda_, and _Scentwell_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! what's the matter? + +_Miran._ Oh, you Toad! what have you done? + +_Marpl._ No great harm, I beg of you to forgive me: Longing to see the +Monkey, I did but just raise up the Board, and it flew over my +Shoulders, scratch'd all my Face, broke yon' China, and whisk'd out of +the Window. + +Sir _Fran._ Was ever such an unlucky Rogue! Sirrah, I forbid you my +House. Call the Servants to get the Monkey again; I wou'd stay my self +to look it, but that you know my earnest Business. + +_Scentw._ Oh my Lady will be the best to lure it back; all them +Creatures love my Lady extremely. + +_Miran._ Go, go, dear _Gardee_; I hope I shall recover it. + +Sir _Fran._ B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! B'ye, +b'ye. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ _Scentwell_, see him in the Coach, and bring me word. + +_Scentw._ Yes, Madam. + +_Miran._ So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of Service, I +suppose. + +_Marpl._ Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank your +self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor none +more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when you +talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you talk'd +of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir _George?_ + +_Miran._ A sign you converse but little with our Sex, when you can't +reconcile Contradictions. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can carry him. + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Then I may appear. + +_Marpl._ Dear, Sir _George_, make my Peace! On my Soul, I did not think +of you. + +Sir _Geo._ I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to forgive him. + +_Miran._ Well, Sir _George_, if he can be secret. + +_Marpl._ Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm trusted. + +Sir _Geo._ Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at present. + +_Scentw._ Madam, here's Mrs. _Isabinda_'s Woman to wait on you. + +_Miran._ Bring her up. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +How do'e, Mrs. _Patch_, what News from your Lady? + +_Patch._ That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir _George_, there's a +Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your Assistance. + +Sir _Geo._ His Name. + +_Patch._ _Charles._ + +_Marpl._ Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing of. I'll +wait on you, Sir _George_. + +Sir _Geo._ A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as I have +dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my Servant to +tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour. + +_Miran._ How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. _Patch?_ + +_Patch._ Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, but hope +to serve my Lady still. + +_Miran._ How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story within. + +_Patch._ With all my Heart, Madam. + +_Marpl._ Pish! Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I find +Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know what +_Charles_ wants him for. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friendship: This +Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make _Marplot_ of the Party? + +_Miran._ If you'll run the Hazard, Sir _George_; I believe he means +well. + +_Marpl._ Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: I'll +begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me. + (_Going._ + +Sir _Geo._ So now has he a mind to be gone to _Charles_: but not knowing +what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at present, I'm resolv'd he +sha'n't stir: No, Mr. _Marplot_, you must not leave us, we want a third +Person. + (_Takes hold of him._ + +_Marpl._ I never had more mind to be gone in my Life. + +_Miran._ Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your self for +taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board. + +_Sir_ Geo. + _That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,_ + _Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love._ + +The End of the Fourth ACT. + + + + +ACT the Fifth. + + + _Enter _Miranda_, _Patch_, and _Scentwell_._ + +_Miran._ Well, _Patch_, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is +determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence +and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance +of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no +Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to +one of my Age and Constitution. + +_Patch._ O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir _George +Airy_; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued +with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does +not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but +Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them +happy. + +_Miran._ I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd +bring my _Guardian_ back. _Scentwell_, put my best Jewels into the +little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir. +_Jealous_'s. + +_Scentw._ It shall be done, Madam. + (_Exit_ Scentwell. + +_Patch._ Sir _George_ will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot succeeds, +we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect us. +Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares. + +_Miran._ Farewell, old _Mammon_, and thy detested Walls; 'twill be no +more sweet Sir _Francis_, I shall be compell'd to the odious Task of +Dissembling no longer to get my own, and coax him with the wheedling +Names of my _Precious_, my _Dear_, dear _Gardee_. Oh Heavens! + + _Enter Sir _Francis_ behind._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ah, my sweet _Chargee_, don't be frighted. (_She starts._) +But thy poor _Gardee_ has been abused, cheated, fool'd, betray'd, but no +Body knows by whom. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) Undone! past Redemption. + +Sir _Fran._ What won't you speak to me, _Chargee!_ + +_Miran._ I'm so surpriz'd with Joy to see you, I know not what to say. + +Sir _Fran._ Poor, dear Girl! But do'e know that my Son, or some such +Rogue, to rob or murder me, or both, contriv'd this Journey? For upon +the Road I met my Neighbour _Squeezum_ well, and coming to Town. + +_Miran._ Good lack, good lack! what Tricks are there in this World! + + _Enter _Scentwell_, with a Diamond Necklace in her Hand; not seeing +Sir _Francis_._ + +_Scentw._ Madam, be pleas'd to tye this Neck-lace on; for I can't get it +into the-- (_Seeing Sir _Francis_._ + +_Miran._ The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou'd you not have carry'd it to +be mended, without putting it in the Box? + +Sir _Fran._ What's the matter? + +_Miran._ Only Dear'e, I bid her, I bid her--Your ill Usage has put every +thing out of my Head. But won't you go, _Gardee_, and find out these +Fellows, and have them punish'd! and, and-- + +Sir _Fran._ Where shou'd I look them, Child? No I'll sit me down +contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with +thee to a Parson. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) If he goes into his Closet I am ruin'd. Oh! bless me +in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. _Patch_. + +_Patch._ Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) I must get him out of the House. Now assist me +Fortune. + +Sir _Fran._ Mrs. _Patch_, I profess I did not see you, how dost thou do, +Mrs. _Patch_; well don't you repent leaving my _Chargee?_ + +_Patch._ Yes, every body must love her--but I came now--Madam, what did +I come for, my Invention is at the last Ebb. + (_Aside to _Miranda_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Nay, never Whisper, tell me. + +_Miran._ She came, dear _Gardee_ to invite me to her Lady's Wedding, and +you shall go with me _Gardee_, 'tis to be done this Moment to a +_Spanish_ Merchant; Old Sir _Jealous_ keeps on his Humour, the first +Minute he sees her, the next he marries her. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought the sight of Matrimony wou'd +tempt _Chargee_ to perform her Promise: There was a smile, there was a +consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a Million. Ods +precious, I am happier than the Great _Mogul_, the Emperour of _China_, +or all the Potentates that are not in Wars. Speak, confirm it, make me +leap out of my Skin. + +_Miran._ When one has resolv'd, 'tis in vain to stand shall I, shall I, +if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day. + +Sir _Fran._ Oh! happy, happy Man--Verily I will beget a Son, the first +Night shall disinherit that Dog, _Charles_. I have Estate enough to +purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole Family of the +Gripes. + +_Miran._ Come then _Gardee_, give me thy Hand, let's to this House +of _Hymen_. + _My Choice is fix'd, let good or ill betide,_ + +Sir _Fran._ + _The joyful Bridegroom, I_ + +_Miran._ + _And I the happy Bride._ + + (Exeunt. + + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ meeting a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, here's a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one of 'em +calls himself _Seignor Diego Babinetto_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! _Seignor Babinetto!_ Admit 'em instantly--Joyful Minute; +I'll have my Daughter marry'd to Night. + + _Enter _Charles_ in _Spanish_ Habit, with Sir _George_ drest like a +Merchant._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Senior, beso Las Manos vuestra merced es muy bien venido en +esta tierra. + +_Char._ Senhor, soy muy humilde, y muy obligado Cryado de vuestra +merced: Mi Padre Embia a vuestra merced, los mas profondos de sus +respetos; y a Commissionado este Mercadel Ingles, de concluyr un +negocio, que me Haze el mas dichoso hombre del mundo, Haziendo me su +yerno. + +Sir _Jeal._ I am glad on't, for I find I have lost much of my _Spanish_. +Sir, I am your most humble Servant. _Seignor Don Diego Babinetto_ has +inform'd me that you are Commission'd by _Seignor Don Pedro_, &c. his +worthy Father. + +Sir _Geo._ To see an Affair of Marriage Consummated between a Daughter +of yours, and _Seignor Diego Babinetto_ his Son here. True, Sir, such a +Trust is repos'd in me as that Letter will inform you. I hope 'twill +pass upon him. + (_Aside._) + (_Gives him a Letter._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, 'tis his Hand. + (_Seems to read._ + +Sir _Geo._ Good ---- you have counterfeited to a Nicety, _Charles._ + (_Aside to _Charles_._ + +_Char._ If the whole Plot succeeds as well, I'm happy. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sir I find by this, that you are a Man of Honour and +Probity; I think, Sir, he calls you _Meanwell_. + +Sir _Geo._ _Meanwell_ is my Name, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ A very good Name, and very Significant. + +_Char._ Yes, Faith if he knew all. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ For to Mean-well is to be honest, and to be honest is the +Virtue of a Friend, and a Friend is the Delight and Support of Human +Society. + +Sir _Geo._ You shall find that I'll Discharge the part of a Friend in +what I have undertaken, Sir _Jealous_. + +_Char._ But little does he think to whom. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Therefore, Sir, I must intreat the Presence of your fair +Daughter, and the Assistance of your Chaplain; for _Seignor Don Pedro_ +strictly enjoyn'd me to see the Marriage Rites perform'd as soon as we +should arrive, to avoid the Accidental Overtures of _Venus_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Overtures of _Venus!_ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, Sir, that is, those little Hawking Females that traverse +the Park, and the Play-house to put off their damag'd Ware--they fasten +upon Foreigners like Leeches, and watch their Arrival as carefully, as +the _Kentish_ Men do a Ship-wreck. I warrant you they have heard of him +already. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I know this Town swarms with them. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, and then you know the _Spaniards_ are naturally Amorous, +but very Constant, the first Face fixes 'em, and it may be dangerous to +let him ramble e'er he is tied. + +_Char._ Well hinted. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Pat to my Purpose--Well, Sir, there is but one thing more, +and they shall be married instantly. + +_Char._ Pray Heaven, that one thing more don't spoil all. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ _Don Pedro_ writ me Word in his last but one, that he +design'd the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for my +Daughter; and that it shou'd be paid into my Hand upon the Day of +Marriage. + +_Char._ Oh! the Devil. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case she +should become a Widow, and return for _England_. + +Sir _Geo._ Pox on't, this is an unlucky Turn. What shall I say? + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ And he does not mention one Word of it in this Letter. + +_Char._ I don't know how he should. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Humph! True, Sir _Jealous_, he told me such a Thing, but, +but, but, but--he, he, he, he--he did not imagine that you would insist +upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you know is dangerous +returning by Sea, an, an, an, an-- + +_Char._ Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities. + (_Aside to Sir_ George. + +Sir _Geo._ And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, _Tobacco_, +_Sugars_, _Spices_, _Limons_, and so forth, which shall be turn'd into +Money with all Expedition: In the mean time, Sir, if you please to +accept of my Bond for Performance. + +Sir _Jeal._ It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas'd with the Countenance of +_Seignor Diego_, and the Harmony of your Name, that I'll take your Word, +and will fetch my Daughter this Moment. Within there (_Enter Servant_) +desire Mr. _Tackum_ my Neighbour's Chaplain to walk hither. + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Gentlemen, I'll return in an Instant. + (_Exit._ + +_Char._ Wondrous well. Let me embrace thee. + +Sir _Geo._ Egad that 5000 _l._ had like to have ruin'd the Plot. + +_Char._ But that's over! And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in our way. + +Sir _Geo._ Thou'lt carry the Prize--but hist, here he comes. + + _Enter Sir _ Jealous_, dragging in _Isabinda_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come along. + +_Isab._ + Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word, + Do not destroy my everlasting Peace; + My Soul abhors this _Spaniard_ you have chose + Nor can I wed him without being curst. + +Sir _Jeal._ How's that! + +_Isab._ + Let this Posture move your tender Nature. (_Kneels._ + For ever will I hang upon these Knees; + Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold, + If you refuse to hear me, Sir. + +_Char._ Oh! that I cou'd discover my self to her. + (_Aside_ + +Sir _Geo._ Have a care what you do. You had better trust to his +Obstinacy. + (_Aside_ + +Sir _Jeal._ Did you ever see such a perverse Slut: Off I say Mr. +_Meanwell_ pray help me a little. + +Sir _Geo._ Rise, Madam, and do not disoblige your Father, who has +provided a Husband worthy of you, one that will Love you equal with his +Soul, and one that you will Love, when once you know him. + +_Isab._ Oh! never, never. Cou'd I suspect that Falshood in my Heart, I +wou'd this Moment tear it from my Breast, and streight present him with +the Treacherous Part. + +_Char._ Oh! my charming faithful Dear. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Falshood! why, who the Devil are you in Love with? Ha! Don't +provoke me, for by St. _Jago_ I shall beat you, Housewife. + +_Char._ Heaven forbid; for I shall infallibly discover my self if he +should. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Have Patience, Madam! and look at him: Why will you +prepossess your self against a Man that is Master of all the Charms you +would desire in a Husband? + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, look at him, _Isabinda_, _Senior pase vind adelante._ + +_Char._ My Heart bleeds to see her grieve, whom I imagin'd would with +Joy receive me. _Seniora obligue me vuestra merced de sumano._ + +Sir _Jeal._ (_Pulling up her Head._) Hold up your Head, hold up your +Head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a properer, handsomer, better +shap'd Fellow in _England_, ye Jade you. Ha! see, see the obstinate +Baggage shuts her Eyes; by St. _Jago_, I have a good Mind to beat 'em +out. + (_Pushes her down._ + +_Isab._ + Do then, Sir, kill me, kill me instantly. + 'Tis much the kinder Action of the Two, + For 'twill be worse than Death to wed him. + +Sir _Geo._ Sir _Jealous_, you are too passionate. Give me leave, I'll +try by gentle Words to work her to your Purpose. + +Sir _Jeal._ I pray do, Mr. _Meanwell_, I pray do; she'll break my Heart. +(_weeps_) There is in that, Jewels of the Value of 3000 _l._ which were +her Mother's; and a Paper wherein I have settled one half of my Estate +upon her now, and the whole when I dye. But provided she marries this +Gentleman, else by St. _Jago_, I'll turn her out of Doors to beg or +starve. Tell her this, Mr. _Meanwell_, pray do. + (_Walks off._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! this is beyond Expectation--Trust to me, Sir, I'll lay +the dangerous Consequence of disobeying you at this Juncture before her, +I warrant you. + +_Char._ A sudden Joy runs thro' my Heart like a propitious Omen. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Come, Madam, do not blindly cast your Life away just in the +Moment you would wish to have it. + +_Isab._ Pray cease your Trouble, Sir, I have no Wish but sudden Death to +free me from this hated _Spaniard_. If you are his Friend inform him +what I say; my Heart is given to another Youth, whom I love with the +same strength of Passion that I hate this _Diego_; with whom, if I am +forc'd to wed, my own Hand shall cut the Gordian Knot. + +Sir _Geo._ Suppose this _Spaniard_ which you strive to shun should be +the very Man to whom you'd flye? + +_Isab._ Ha! + +Sir _Geo._ Would you not blame your rash Result, and curse those Eyes +that would not look on _Charles_. + +_Isab._ On _Charles!_ Oh you have inspir'd new Life, and collected every +wandring Sense. Where is he? Oh! let me flye into his Arms. + (_Rises._ + +Sir _Geo._ Hold, hold, hold, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll ruin all, your +Father believes him to be _Seignor Barbinetto_. Compose your self a +little, pray Madam. + (_He runs to Sir _Jealous_._ + +_Char._ Her Eyes declare she knows me. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ She begins to hear Reason, Sir, the fear of being turn'd out +of Doors has done it. + (_Runs back to_ Isabinda. + +_Isab._ 'Tis he, oh! my ravish'd Soul. + +Sir _Geo._ Take heed, Madam, you don't betray your self. Seem with +Reluctance to consent, or you are undone, (_runs to Sir _Jealous_._) +speak gently to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll yield, I see it in her Face. + +Sir _Jeal._ Well, _Isabinda_, can you refuse to bless a Father, whose +only Care is to make you happy, as Mr. _Meanwell_ has inform'd you. +Come, wipe thy Eyes; nay, prithee do, or thou wilt break thy Father's +Heart; see thou bring'st the Tears in mine to think of thy undutiful +Carriage to me. + (_Weeps._ + +_Isab._ Oh! do not weep, Sir, your Tears are like a Ponyard to my Soul; +do with me what you please, I am all Obedience. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! then thou art my Child agen. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis done, and now Friend the Day's thy own. + +_Char._ The happiest of my Life, if nothing Intervene. + +Sir _Jeal._ And wilt thou love him? + +_Isab._ I will endeavour it, Sir. + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, Here is Mr. _Tackum_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Show him into the Parlour--_Senior tome vind sueipora; cete +Momenta les Junta les Manos._ + (_Gives her to_ Charles. + +_Char._ Oh! transport--_Senior yo la recibo Como se deve un Tesoro tan +Grande._ Oh! my Joy, my Life, my Soul. + (_Embrace._ + +_Isab._ My Faithful everlasting Comfort. + +Sir _Jeal._ Now, Mr. _Meanwell_ let's to the Parson, + _Who, by his Art will join this Pair for Life,_ + _Make me the happiest Father, her the happiest Wife._ + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE Changes to the Street before Sir _Jealous_'s Door. + + _Enter _Marplot_, Solus._ + +_Marpl._ I have hunted all over the Town for _Charles_, but can't find +him; and by _Whisper_'s scouting at the End of the Street, I suspect he +must be in this House again. I'm inform'd too that he has borrow'd a +_Spanish_ Habit out of the _Play-house_. What can it mean? + + _Enter a Servant of Sir _Jealous_'s to him, out of the House._ + +Hark'e, Sir, do you belong to this House? + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in _Spanish_ +Habit? + +_Serv._ There is a _Spanish_ Gentleman within, that is just a going to +marry my young Lady, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Are you sure he is a _Spanish_ Gentleman? + +_Serv._ I'm sure he speaks no _English_, that I hear of. + +_Marpl._ Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an _English_ Gentleman, +tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a _Spaniard_, that I enquire +after. + +_Serv._ Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform my +Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. +(_Aside._) Pray, come in, Sir, and see if this be the Person you enquire +for. + + +SCENE Changes to the Inside the House. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be _Charles_, now will +he wonder how I found him out. + + _Enter Servant and _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you must +speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this? + +_Serv._ Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in _Spanish_ +Habit, he says. + +Sir _Jeal._ In _Spanish_ Habit! 'tis some Friend of Seignior _Don +Diego_'s, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak with Seignior +_Barbinetto_-- + +_Marpl._ Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!--Sir, I don't +understand you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Don't you understand _Spanish_, Sir? + +_Marpl._ Not I indeed, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ I thought you had known Seignior _Barbinetto_. + +_Marpl._ Not I, upon my word, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ What then you'd speak with his Friend, the _English_ +Merchant, Mr. _Meanwell_. + +_Marpl._ Neither, Sir; not I. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want? + (_In an angry Tone._ + +_Marpl._ Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I were out, +he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you in my +House? ha? + +_Serv._ You said you wanted a Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit. + +_Marpl._ Why ay, but his Name is neither _Barbinetto_ nor _Meanwell_. + +Sir _Jeal._ What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you agen, I +believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen +_Mirmidons_--Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, or-- + +_Marpl._ A terrible old Dog!--Why, Sir, only an honest young Fellow of +my Acquaintance--I thought that here might be a Ball, and that he might +have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis _Charles_, Sir _Francis Gripe_'s +Son, because I know he us'd to come hither sometimes. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did he so?--Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray Heaven that +this be Don _Diego_--If I shou'd be trick'd now--Ha! my Heart misgives +me plaguily--within there! stop the Marriage--Run, Sirrah, call all my +Servants! I'll be satisfy'd that this is Seignior _Pedro_'s Son e're he +has my Daughter. + +_Marpl._ Ha, Sir _George_, what have I done now ? + + _Enter Sir _George_ with a drawn Sword between the Scenes._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! _Marplot_, here--Oh the unlucky Dog--what's the matter, +Sir _Jealous?_ + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr._Meanwell_. + +_Marpl._ Upon my Soul, Sir _George_-- + (_Going up to Sir _Geo.__ + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, Traytors, +Rogues! (_Offers to go in._) Stop the Marriage, I say-- + +Sir _Geo._ I say, go on Mr._Tackum_--Nay, no Ent'ring here, I guard this +Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both your own, and I'll +see 'em sign'd, or die for't. + + _Enter Servants._ + +Sir _Jeal._ A pox on the Act and Deed!--Fall on, knock him down. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you. + (_Beats _Marplot_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your Daughter. + +Sir _Jeal._ Rascals! why don't you knock him down? + +_Serv._ We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that from him, +we'll knock him down presently. + + _Enter _Charles_ and _Isabinda_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Seize her then. + +_Char._ Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, I'll make +Dogs meat of you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ah! downright _English_:--Oh, oh, oh, oh! + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Mirand_, _Patch_, _Scentwell_, + and _Whisper_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! I think +'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir _Jealous_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Oh Sir _Francis!_ are you come? What was this your +Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child! + +Sir _Fran._ My Contrivance! what do you mean? + +Sir _Jeal._ No, you don't know your Son there in _Spanish_ Habit. + +Sir _Fran._ How! my Son in _Spanish_ Habit. Sirrah, you'll come to be +hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight. + +Sir _Jeal._ Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; let's +see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on. + +Sir _Fran._ Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny of +mine--and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir +_Jealous_. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: But +look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is my +Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her +Body. + +Sir _Geo._ Lawfully begotten by me--I shall be extremely oblig'd to you, +Sir _Francis_. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George!_ You see your Project was +of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach? Ha, ha, +ha. + +Sir _Geo._ No faith, Sir _Francis_, this Lady has given me a Cordial for +that. + (_Takes her by the Hand._ + +Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady. + +Sir _Geo._ Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ Wife, Sir! + +_Miran._ Ay really, _Guardian_, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my +first Offence. + +Sir _Fran._ What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your +Writings then, Mistress, ha? + +_Miran._ Out of nothing but my own, _Guardian_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort at least to see you are +over-reach'd as well as my self. Will you settle your Estate upon your +Son now? + +Sir _Fran._ He shall starve first. + +_Miran._ That I have taken care to prevent. There, Sir, is the Writings +of your Uncle's _Estate_, which has been your due these three Years. + (_Gives _Char._ Papers._ + +_Char._ I shall study to deserve this Favour. + +Sir _Fran._ What have you robb'd me too, Mistress! Egad I'll make you +restore 'em.--Huswife, I will so. + +Sir _Jeal._ Take care I don't make you pay the Arrears, Sir. 'Tis well +it's no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young Man, seeing thou hast +out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both. + +_Char._ I hope, Sir, you'll bestow your Blessing too, 'tis all I'll ask. + (_Kneels._ + +Sir _Fran._ Confound you all! + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Mercy upon us! how he looks! + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ne'er mind his Curses, _Charles_; thou'lt thrive not +one jot the worse for 'em. Since this Gentleman is reconcil'd, we are +all made happy. + +Sir _Jeal._ I always lov'd Precaution, and took care to avoid Dangers. +But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be easie. + +_Char._ Which is the true sign of a great Soul: I lov'd your Daughter, +and she me, and you shall have no reason to repent her Choice. + +_Isab._ You will not blame me, Sir, for loving my own Country best. + +_Marpl._ So here's every Body happy, I find, but poor _Pilgarlick_. I +wonder what Satisfaction I shall have, for being cuff'd, kick'd, and +beaten in your Service. + +Sir _Jeal._ I have been a little too familiar with you, as things are +fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive me. + +_Marpl._ Egad I think so--But provided that you be not so familiar for +the future. + +Sir _Geo._ Thou hast been an unlucky Rogue. + +_Marpl._ But very honest. + +_Char._ That I'll vouch for; and freely forgive thee. + +Sir _Geo._ And I'll do you one piece of Service more, _Marplot_, I'll +take care that Sir _Francis_ make you Master of your Estate. + +_Marpl._ That will make me as happy as any of you. + +_Patch._ Your humble Servant begs leave to remind you, Madam. + +_Isab._ Sir, I hope you'll give me leave to take _Patch_ into favour +again. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, let your Husband look to that, I have done with my +Care. + +_Char._ Her own Liberty shall always oblige me. Here's no Body but +honest _Whisper_ and Mrs. _Scentwell_ to be provided for now. It shall +be left to their Choice to Marry, or keep their Services. + +_Whisp._ Nay then, I'll stick to my Master. + +_Scentw._ Coxcomb! and I prefer my Lady before a Footman. + +Sir _Jeal._ Hark, I hear Musick, the Fidlers smell a Wedding. What say +you, young Fellows, will ye have a Dance? + +Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart; call'em in. + + +A DANCE. + + +Sir _Jeal._ Now let us in and refresh our selves with a chearful Glass, +in which we'll bury all Animosities: And + + _By my Example let all Parents move, + And never strive to cross their Childrens Love; + But still submit that Care to Providence above._ + + +FINIS + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + + + The Editors of THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + + are pleased to announce that + + THE WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY + of The University of California, Los Angeles + +will become the publisher of the Augustan Reprints in May, 1949. The +editorial policy of the Society will continue unchanged. As in the past, +the editors will strive to furnish members inexpensive reprints of rare +seventeenth and eighteenth century works. + + +Publications for the fourth year (1949-1950) + +[Transcriber's Note: +Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project +Gutenberg. Where possible, the e-text number is given in brackets.] + +(_At least six items will be printed in the main from the following +list_) + + +SERIES IV: MEN, MANNERS, AND CRITICS + +John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681) [#15074] +Daniel Defoe (?), _Vindication of the Press_ (1718) [#14084] +_Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_ (1754) + + +SERIES V: DRAMA + +Thomas Southerne, _Oroonoko_ (1696) +Mrs. Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709) +Charles Johnson, _Caelia_ (1733) +Charles Macklin, _Man of the World_ (1781) [#14463] + + +SERIES VI: POETRY AND LANGUAGE + +Andre Dacier, _Essay on Lyric Poetry_ +_Poems_ by Thomas Sprat +_Poems_ by the Earl of Dorset +Samuel Johnson, _Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and one of the 1750 + _Rambler_ papers. [#13350] + + +EXTRA SERIES: + +Lewis Theobald, _Preface to Shakespeare's Works_ (1733) [#16346] + +A few copies of the early publications of the Society are still +available at the original rate. + + + + +GENERAL EDITORS + +H. RICHARD ARCHER, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_ +R.C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ +E.N. HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ +H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_ + + + + +PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + + +First Year (1946-1947) + + 1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's + _Freeholder_ No. 45 (1716). (I, 1) [#13484] + + 2. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707). + (II, 1) [#14528] + + 3. _Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and Richard + Willis' _Occasional Paper No. IX_ (1698). (III, 1) [#14047] + + 4. _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and + Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133. (I, 2) [#14973] + + 5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and + _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693). (II, 2) + + 6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704) + and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704). (III, 2) [#15656] + + +Second Year (1947-1948) + + 7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit + from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702). (I, 3) [#14800] + + 8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684). (II, 3) + [#14495] + + 9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736). + (III, 3) [#14899] + +10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, + etc._ (1744). (I, 4) [#16233] + +11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717). (II, 4) [#15313] + +12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood + Krutch. (III, 4) [#16335] + + +Third Year (1948-1949) + +13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720). (IV, 1) [#15999] + +14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753). (V, 1) [#16267] + +15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_ + (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712). + (VI, 1) + +16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673). (V, 2) [_in preparation_] + +17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_ + (1709). (Extra Series, 1) [#16275] + +18. Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_; and Thomas Brereton's + Preface to _Esther_. (IV, 2) [#15870] + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + +[Errors and Anomalies Noted by Transcriber: + +Introduction (1949): + it is unreasonable to expect... + _text reads_ is it... + +Dedication: + Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most / Honourable Privy-Council. + _so in original_ + +Act I + Ad I long to know their Secrets. + _The word "ad" with related forms ("adod") occurs several times + in the play_ + + Sir _Jealousie Traffick_ + The name occurs twice in this form. + +Act II + _Enter _Mirand_._ + _The name occurs in this form four times: twice where the full form + _Miranda_ is expected, twice in place of its usual abbreviation + _Miran._ + + Sir _Geo._ Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me + _reading "a" uncertain_ + +Act II scene iii + (_Beat_'s Marplot_ all this while he cries _Thieves_._ + _punctuation and typography as in original_ + +Act II scene iv + Sir _Fran._ No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want... + _text reads_ one thing you wan't + + _Miran._ The Gardner describ'd just such another Man + _text gives two consecutive lines to Marplot_ + +Act IV scene ii + (Isabinda _throws her self down before the Closet-door as in a Sound._ + _so in original_: swound? + +Act IV scene iv + _Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_ + _text reads_ Marplott + +Act V scene iv + Changes to the Inside the House. + _so in original_ + +Act V final scene + Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart; call'em in. + _text reads_ with all my ] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Busie Body, by Susanna Centlivre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + +***** This file should be named 16740-8.txt or 16740-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/4/16740/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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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 + + +Title: The Busie Body + +Author: Susanna Centlivre + +Commentator: Jess Byrd + +Release Date: September 24, 2005 [EBook #16740] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class = "mynote"> +Transcriber's Note:<br> +In addition to the ordinary page numbers, the printed text labeled +the recto (odd) pages of the first two leaves of each 8-page +signature. These will appear in the right margin as A, A2...<br> +A few typographical errors have been corrected. They are shown in the +text with <ins class = "correction" title = "like this">popups</ins>. +</div> +<h2>The Augustan Reprint Society</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h5>SUSANNA CENTLIVRE</h5> +<h3><span class = "extended">THE BUSIE BODY</span></h3> +<h5>(1709)</h5> +<br> +<h6>With an Introduction by</h6> +<h5>Jess Byrd</h5> +<br> +<h5>Publication Number 19</h5> +<h6>(Series V, No. 3)</h6> +<br> +<br> +<h6>Los Angeles</h6> +<h6>William Andrews Clark Memorial Library</h6> +<h6>University of California</h6> +<h6>1949</h6> + +<hr> + +<p class = "editors">GENERAL EDITORS<br> +<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">H. Richard Archer</span>, Clark Memorial +Library<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Richard C. Boys</span>, University of +Michigan<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Edward Niles Hooker</span>, University of +California, Los Angeles<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">H. T. Swedenberg, Jr.</span>, University +of California, Los Angeles<br> +<br> +ASSISTANT EDITOR<br> +<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">W. Earl Britton</span>, University of +Michigan<br> +<br> +ADVISORY EDITORS<br> +<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Emmett L. Avery</span>, State College of +Washington<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Benjamin Boyce</span>, University of +Nebraska<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Louis I. Bredvold</span>, University of +Michigan<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Cleanth Brooks</span>, Yale +University<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">James L. Clifford</span>, Columbia +University<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Arthur Friedman</span>, University of +Chicago<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Samuel H. Monk</span>, University of +Minnesota<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Ernest Mossner</span>, University of +Texas<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">James Sutherland</span>, Queen Mary +College, London</p> + +<hr> +<div class = "contents"> +<a href = "#intro">Introduction</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +<a href = "#title">The Busie Body</a><br> +<a href = "#dedic">Dedicatory Epistle</a><br> +<a href = "#prologue">Prologue</a><br> +<a href = "#epilogue">Epilogue</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +<a href = "#cast">Dramatis Personae</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +ACT I<br> +<a href = "#actI">The Park</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +ACT II<br> +<a href = "#actII_1">Sir Francis Gripe's house</a><br> +<a href = "#actII_2">Sir Jealous Traffick's House</a><br> +<a href = "#actII_3">Charles's lodging</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +ACT III<br> +<a href = "#actIII_1">outside Sir Jealous Traffick's house</a><br> +<a href = "#actIII_2">the Street</a><br> +<a href = "#actIII_3">Sir Francis Gripe's house</a><br> +<a href = "#actIII_4">a Tavern</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +ACT IV<br> +<a href = "#actIV_1">outside Sir Jealous Traffick's House</a><br> +<a href = "#actIV_2">Isabinda's Chamber</a><br> +<a href = "#actIV_3">a Garden Gate</a><br> +<a href = "#actIV_4">Sir Jealous Traffick's house</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +ACT V<br> +<a href = "#actV_1">Sir Francis Gripe's house</a><br> +<a href = "#actV_2">the Street before Sir Jealous's Door</a><br> +<a href = "#actV_3">inside Sir Jealous Traffick's house</a></div> +<div class = "contents"> +<a href = "#ARSpubs">List of ARS titles</a></div> +<hr> + +<span class = "pagenum">i</span> +<div class = "typehead"><a name = "intro">INTRODUCTION</a></div> + +<p class = "intro"> +Susanna Centlivre (1667?-1723) in <i>The Busie Body</i> (1709) +contributed to the stage one of the most successful comedies of intrigue +of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This play, written when +there was a decided trend in England toward sentimental drama, shows +Mrs. Centlivre a strong supporter of laughing comedy. She had turned for +a time to sentimental comedy and with one of her three sentimental +plays, <i>The Gamester</i> (1704), had achieved a great success. But her +true bent seems to have been toward realistic comedies, chiefly of +intrigue: of her nineteen plays written from 1700 to 1723, ten are +realistic comedies. Three of these proved very popular in her time and +enjoyed a long stage history: <i>The Busie Body</i> (1709); <i>The +Wonder: A Woman Keeps a Secret</i> (1714); and <i>A Bold Stroke for a +Wife</i> (1717). <i>The Busie Body</i> best illustrates Mrs. Centlivre's +preference for laughing comedy with an improved moral tone. The +characters and the plot are amusing but inoffensive, and, compared to +those of Restoration drama, satisfy the desire of the growing +eighteenth-century middle-class audience for respectability on the +stage.</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +The theory of comedy on which <i>The Busie Body</i> rests is a +traditional one, but Mrs. Centlivre's simple pronouncements on the +virtues of realistic over sentimental comedy are interesting because of +the controversy on this subject among critics and writers at this time. +In the preface to her first play, <i>The Perjur'd Husband</i> (1700), +she takes issue with Jeremy Collier on the charge of immorality in +realistic plays. The stage, she believes, should present characters as +they are; <ins class = "correction" title = "text reads 'is it'">it +is</ins> unreasonable to expect a "Person, whose inclinations are always +forming Projects to the Dishonor of her Husband, should deliver her +Commands to her Confident in the Words of a Psalm." In a letter written +in 1700 she says: "I think the main design of Comedy is to make us +laugh." (Abel Boyer, <i>Letters of Wit, Politicks, and Morality</i>, +London, 1701, p. 362). But, she adds, since Collier has taught religion +to the "Rhiming Trade, the Comick Muse in +<span class = "pagenum">ii</span> +Tragick Posture sat" until she discovered Farquhar, whose language is +amusing but decorous and whose plots are virtuous. This insistence on +decorum and virtue indicates a concession to Collier and to the public. +Thus in the preface to <i>Love's Contrivance</i> (1703), she reiterates +her belief that comedy should amuse but adds that she strove for a +"modest stile" which might not "disoblige the nicest ear." This modest +style, not practiced in early plays, is achieved admirably in <i>The +Busie Body</i>. Yet, as she says in the epilogue, she has not followed +the critics who balk the pleasure of the audience to refine their taste; +her play will with "good humour, pleasure crown the Night." In dialogue, +in plot, and particularly in the character of the amusing but +inoffensive Marplot, she fulfills her simple theory of comedy designed +not for reform but for laughter.</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +Mrs. Centlivre followed the practices of her contemporaries in borrowing +the plot for <i>The Busie Body</i>. The three sources for the play are: +<i>The Devil Is an Ass</i> (1616) by Jonson; <i>L'Etourdi</i> (1658) by +Molière; and <i>Sir Martin Mar-all or The Feigned Innocence</i> (1667) +by Dryden. From <i>The Devil Is an Ass</i>, Mrs. Centlivre borrowed +minor details and two episodes, one of them the amusing dumb scene. This +scene, though a close imitation, seems more amusing in <i>The Busie +Body</i> than in Jonson's play, perhaps because the characters, +especially Sir Francis Gripe and Miranda, are more credible and more +fully portrayed. From the second source for <i>The Busie Body</i>, +Molière's <i>L'Etourdi</i>, I believe Mrs. Centlivre borrowed the +framework for her parallel plots, the theme of Marplot's blundering, and +the name and general character of Marplot. But she has improved what she +borrowed. She places in Molière's framework more credible women +characters than his, especially in the charming Miranda and the crafty +Patch; she constructs a more skillful intrigue plot for the stage than +his subplot and emphasizes Spanish customs in the lively +Charles-Isabinda-Traffick plot. Mrs. Centlivre concentrates on Marplot's +blundering, whereas Molière concentrates on the servant Mascarille's +schemes. Marplot's funniest blunder, in the "monkey" scene, is entirely +original as far as I know (IV, iv). But her greatest change is in the +character of Marplot, who in +<span class = "pagenum">iii</span> +her hands becomes not so much stupid as human and irresistibly +ludicrous. Mrs. Centlivre's style is of course inferior to that of +Molière. In the preface to <i>Love's Contrivance</i> (1703), in speaking +of borrowings from Molière, she said that borrowers "must take care to +touch the Colors with an English Pencil, and form the Piece according to +our Manners." Of course her touching the "Colors with an English Pencil" +meant changing the style of Molière to suit the less delicate taste of +the middle-class English audience.</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +A third source for <i>The Busie Body</i> is Dryden's <i>Sir Martin +Mar-all</i> (1667). Since Dryden followed Molière with considerable +exactness, it would be difficult to prove beyond doubt that Mrs. +Centlivre borrowed from Molière rather than from Dryden. Yet I believe, +after a careful analysis of the plays, that she borrowed from Molière. +She made of <i>The Busie Body</i> a comedy of intrigue based on the +theme and plot used by both Molière and Dryden, but she omitted the +scandalous Restoration third plot which Dryden had added to Molière. Her +characters are English in speech and action, but they lack the +coarseness apparent in Dryden's <i>Sir Martin Mar-all</i>. Though it is +impossible to prove the exact sources of Mrs. Centlivre's borrowings, +there is no doubt that she has improved what she borrowed.</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +Whatever the truth may be about Mrs. Centlivre's use of her sources, her +play remained in the repertory of acting plays long after +<i>L'Etourdi</i> and <i>Sir Martin Mar-all</i> had disappeared. <i>The +Busie Body</i> opened at the Drury Lane Theater on May 12, 1709. Steele, +who listed the play in <i>The Tatler</i> for May 14, 1709, does not +mention the length of the run. Thomas Whincop says that the play ran +thirteen nights (<i>Scanderbeg</i>, London, 1747, p. 190), but Genest +says the play had an opening run of seven nights (<i>Some Account of the +English Stage from the Restoration in 1660 to 1830</i>, II, 419). The +play remained popular throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth +centuries. Genest lists it as being presented in twenty-three seasons +from 1709 to 1800. It was certainly presented much more frequently than +this record shows, for Dougald MacMillan in <i>The Drury Lane +Calendar</i> lists fifty-three +<span class = "pagenum">iv</span> +performances from 1747-1776, whereas Genest records two performances in +this period. The greatest number of performances in any season was +fourteen in 1758-59, the year David Garrick appeared in the play. From +the records available <i>The Busie Body</i> seems to have reached its +greatest popularity in England in the middle and late eighteenth century +and the early part of the nineteenth century. William Hazlitt, in the +"Prefatory Remarks" to the Oxberry acting edition of 1819, says <i>The +Busie Body</i> has been acted a "thousand times in town and country, +giving delight to the old, the young, and the middle-aged."</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +<i>The Busie Body</i> enjoyed a similar place of importance in the stage +history of America but achieved its greatest popularity, in New York at +least, in the nineteenth century. First performed in Williamsburg on +September 10, 1736, the play was presented fifteen times in New York in +the eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century forty-five +performances were given in New York in sixteen seasons from 1803 to 1885 +(George Odell, <i>Annals of the New York Stage</i>). <i>The Busie +Body</i> is frequently cited with <i>The Rivals</i> and <i>The School +for Scandal</i> for opening seasons and for long runs by great +actors.</p> + +<p class = "intro"> +The text here reproduced is from a copy of the first edition now in the +library of the University of Michigan.</p> + +<p class = "indent">Jess Byrd<br> +Salem College</p> + +<hr> +<a name = "title"> </a> +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h1>BUSIE BODY:</h1> + +<h4>A</h4> + +<div class = "biggest">COMEDY.</div> + +<h3>As it is Acted at the</h3> + +<h2>THEATRE-ROYAL</h2> + +<h5>IN</h5> + +<h2><i>DRURY-LANE,</i></h2> + +<h3>By Her Majesty's Servants.</h3> + +<hr class = "smaller"> + +<h4><i>Written by Mrs.</i> <span class = "smallcaps">Susanna +Centlivre</span>.</h4> + +<hr class = "smaller"> + +<table align = "center"> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<div class = "verse"> +Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso Gloria curru,<br> +Exanimat lentus Spectator, sedulus inflat.<br> +Sic Leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum<br> +Subruit aut reficit—</div> +<p align = "right"> +Horat. Epist. Lib. II. Ep. 1.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class = "smaller"> + +<h5><span class = "extended">LONDON,</span></h5> + +<h5>Printed for <span class = "smallcaps">Bernard Lintott</span>, at the +<i>Cross-Keys</i><br> +between the Two <i>Temple-Gates</i> in <i>Fleet-street</i>.</h5> + +<hr> + +<h5><a name = "dedic">TO THE</a></h5> + +<h4>RIGHT HONOURABLE</h4> + +<h3><i>JOHN</i> Lord <i>SOMMERS</i>,</h3> + +<h4>Lord-President of <a class = "hajesty" href = +"images/salutation.jpg">Her <span class = +"smallcaps">Hajesty</span>'s</a> most<br> +Honourable Privy-Council.</h4> +<br> + +<p><i>May it please Your Lordship,</i></p> + +<p><span class = "firstletter">A</span>S it's an Establish'd Custom in +these latter Ages, for all Writers, particularly the Poetical, to +shelter their Productions under the Protection of the most +Distinguish'd, whose Approbation produces a kind of Inspiration, much +superior to that which the <i>Heathenish</i> Poets pretended to derive +from their Fictitious <i>Apollo</i>: So it was my Ambition to Address +one of my weak Performances to Your Lordship, who, by Universal Consent, +are justly allow'd to be the best Judge of all kinds of Writing.</p> + +<p>I was indeed at first deterr'd from my Design, by a Thought that it +might be accounted unpardonable Rudeness to obtrude a Trifle of this +Nature to a Person, whose sublime Wisdom moderates that Council, which +at this Critical Juncture, over-rules the Fate of all <i>Europe</i>. But +then I was encourag'd by Reflecting, that <i>Lelius</i> and +<i>Scipio</i>, the two greatest Men in their Time, among the +<i>Romans</i>, both for Political and Military Virtues, in the height of +their important Affairs, thought the Perusal and Improving of +<i>Terence</i>'s Comedies the noblest way of Unbinding their Minds. I +own I were guilty of the highest Vanity, should I presume to put my +Composures in Parallel with those of that Celebrated <i>Dramatist</i>. +But then again, I hope that Your Lordship's native Goodness and +Generosity, in Condescension to the Taste of the Best and Fairest part +of the Town, who have been pleas'd to be diverted by the following <span +class = "smallcaps">Scenes</span>, will excuse and overlook such Faults +as your nicer Judgment might discern.</p> + +<p>And here, my Lord, the Occasion seems fair for me to engage in a +Panegyrick upon those Natural and Acquired Abilities, which so brightly +Adorn your Person: But I shall resist that Temptation, being conscious +of the Inequality of a Female Pen to so Masculine an Attempt; and having +no other Ambition, than to Subscribe my self,</p> + +<table align = "center"> +<tr> +<td class = "dedic" colspan = "4">My Lord,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "dedic" colspan = "3">Your Lordship's</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "dedic" colspan = "2">Most Humble and</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "dedic">Most Obedient Servant,</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "filler"> </td> +<td class = "dedic" colspan = "2"><span class = "smallcaps">Susanna +Centlivre.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr> + +<h1><a name = "prologue">PROLOGUE.</a></h1> + +<h4><i>By the Author of</i> +<span class = "smallcaps">Tunbridge-Walks</span>.</h4> + + +<div class = "verse"> +<span class = "secondletter">T</span>HO' modern Prophets +were expos'd of late,<br> +The Author cou'd not Prophesie his Fate;<br> +If with such Scenes an Audience had been Fir'd,<br> +The Poet must have really been Inspir'd.<br> +But these, alas! are Melancholy Days<br> +For Modern Prophets, and for Modern Plays.<br> +Yet since Prophetick Lyes please Fools o'Fashion,<br> +And Women are so fond of Agitation;<br> +To Men of Sense, I'll Prophesie anew,<br> +And tell you wond'rous things, that will prove true:</div> +<div class = "plainverse"> +Undaunted Collonels will to Camps repair,<br> +Assur'd, there'll be no Skirmishes this Year;</div> +<div class = "verse"> +On our own Terms will flow the wish'd-for Peace,<br> +All Wars, except 'twixt Man and Wife, will cease.<br> +The Grand Monarch may wish his Son a Throne,<br> +But hardly will advance to lose his own.<br> +This Season most things bear a smiling Face;<br> +But Play'rs in Summer have a dismal Case,<br> +Since your Appearance only is our Act of Grace.<br> +Court Ladies will to Country Seats be gone,<br> +My Lord can't all the Year live Great in Town,<br> +Where wanting <span class = "charname">Opera's</span>, <span class = +"charname">Basset</span>, and a <span class = +"charname">Play</span>,<br> +They'll Sigh and stitch a Gown, to pass the time away.<br> +Gay City-Wives at <span class = "charname">Tunbridge</span> will +appear,<br> +Whose Husbands long have laboured for an Heir;<br> +Where many a Courtier may their Wants relieve,<br> +But by the Waters only they Conceive.<br> +The <span class = "charname">Fleet-street</span> Sempstress—Toast +of <span class = "charname">Temple</span> Sparks,<br> +That runs Spruce Neckcloths for Attorney's Clerks;<br> +At <span class = "charname">Cupid</span>'s <span class = +"charname">Gardens</span> will her Hours regale,<br> +Sing fair <span class = "charname">Dorinda</span>, and drink Bottl'd +Ale.<br> +At all Assemblies, Rakes are up and down,<br> +And Gamesters, where they think they are not known.</div> +<div class = "verse1"> +Shou'd I denounce our Author's fate to Day,<br> +To cry down Prophecies, you'd damn the Play:<br> +Yet Whims like these have sometimes made you Laugh;<br> +'Tis Tattling all, like <span class = "charname">Isaac +Bickerstaff</span>.</div> +<div class = "verse1"> +Since War, and Places claim the Bards that write,<br> +Be kind, and bear a Woman's Treat to-Night;<br> +Let your Indulgence all her Fears allay,<br> +And none but Woman-Haters damn this Play.</div> + +<hr> + +<h3><a name = "epilogue">EPILOGUE.</a></h3> + +<div class = "verse"> +<span class = "secondletter">I</span>N me you see one +<span class = "charname">Busie-Body</span> more;<br> +Tho' you may have enough of one before.<br> +With Epilogues, the <span class = "charname">Busie-Body</span>'s +Way,<br> +We strive to help; but sometimes mar a Play.<br> +At this mad Sessions, half condemn'd e'er try'd,<br> +Some, in three Days, have been turn'd off, and dy'd,<br> +In spight of Parties, their Attempts are vain,<br> +For like false Prophets, they ne'er rise again.<br> +Too late, when cast, your Favour one beseeches,<br> +And Epilogues prove Execution Speeches.<br> +Yet sure I spy no <span class = "charname">Busie-Bodies</span> here;<br> +And one may pass, since they do ev'ry where.<br> +Sowr Criticks, Time and Breath, and Censures waste,<br> +And baulk your Pleasure to refine your Taste.<br> +One busie Don ill-tim'd high Tenets Preaches,<br> +Another yearly shows himself in Speeches.<br> +Some snivling Cits, wou'd have a Peace for spight,<br> +To starve those Warriours who so bravely fight.<br> +Still of a Foe upon his Knees affraid;<br> +Whose well-hang'd Troops want Money, Heart, and Bread.<br> +Old Beaux, who none not ev'n themselves can please,<br> +Are busie still; for nothing—but to teize<br> +The Young, so busie to engage a Heart,<br> +The Mischief done, are busie most to part.<br> +Ungrateful Wretches, who still cross ones Will,<br> +When they more kindly might be busie still!<br> +One to a Husband, who ne'er dreamt of Horns,<br> +Shows how dear Spouse, with Friend his Brows adorns.<br> +Th' Officious Tell-tale Fool, (he shou'd repent it.)<br> +Parts three kind Souls that liv'd at Peace contented,<br> +Some with Law Quirks set <span class = "charname">Houses</span> +by the Ears;<br> +With Physick one what he wou'd heal impairs.<br> +Like that dark Mob'd up Fry, that neighb'ring Curse,<br> +Who to remove Love's Pain, bestow a worse.<br> +Since then this meddling Tribe infest the Age,<br> +Bear one a while, expos'd upon the Stage.<br> +Let none but <span class = "charname">Busie-Bodies</span> +vent their Spight!<br> +And with good Humour, Pleasure crown the Night!</div> + +<hr> + +<h1><a name = "cast">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h1> +<h4>MEN.</h4> + +<table> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +Sir <i>George Airy</i>. A Gentleman of Four Thousand a Year +in Love with <i>Miranda</i></td> +<td class = "actors"> +Acted by<br> +Mr. <i>Wilks</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +Sir <i>Francis Gripe</i>. Guardian to <i>Miranda</i> and <i>Marplot</i>, +Father to <i>Charles</i>, in Love with <i>Miranda</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mr. <i>Estcourt</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Charles</i>. Friend to <i>Sir George</i>, +in Love with <i>Isabinda</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mr. <i>Mills</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +Sir <i>Jealous Traffick</i>. A Merchant that had liv'd sometime in +<i>Spain</i>, a great Admirer of the <i>Spanish</i> Customs, +Father to <i>Isabinda</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mr. <i>Bullock</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Marplot</i>. A sort of a silly Fellow, Cowardly, but very Inquisitive +to know every Body's Business, generally spoils all he undertakes, yet +without Design. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mr. <i>Pack</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Whisper</i>. Servant to <i>Charles</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mr. <i>Bullock</i> jun.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<br> + +<h4>WOMEN.</h4> +<table> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Miranda</i>. An Heiress, worth Thirty Thousand Pound, really in Love +with Sir <i>George</i>, but pretends to be so with her Guardian Sir +<i>Francis</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mrs. <i>Cross</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Isabinda</i>. Daughter to Sir <i>Jealous</i>, in Love with +<i>Charles</i>, but design'd for a <i>Spanish</i> Merchant by her +Father, and kept up from the sight of all Men. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mrs. <i>Rogers</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Patch</i>. Her Woman. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mrs. <i>Saunders</i>.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "cast"> +<i>Scentwell</i>. Woman to <i>Miranda</i>. +</td> +<td class = "actors"> +Mrs. <i>Mills</i>.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr> + +<span class = "pagenum">1</span> +<span class = "folionum">B</span> +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1>BUSIE BODY.</h1> + +<div class = "act"><a name = "actI">ACT I. SCENE <i>The +Park</i>.</a></div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Sir <span class = "charname">George Airy</span> +meeting <span class = "charname">Charles</span>.</div> + + +<p> +<i>Cha.</i><br> +<span class = "firstletter">H</span>A! +Sir <i>George Airy!</i> A Birding thus early, what forbidden Game rouz'd +you so soon? For no lawful Occasion cou'd invite a Person of your Figure +abroad at such unfashionable Hours.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> There are some Men, <i>Charles</i>, whom Fortune has +left free from Inquietudes, who are diligently Studious to find out Ways +and Means to make themselves uneasie.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Is it possible that any thing in Nature can ruffle the +Temper of a Man, whom the four Seasons of the Year compliment with as +many Thousand Pounds, nay! and a Father at Rest with his Ancestors.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Why there 'tis now! a Man that wants Money thinks +none can be unhappy that has it; but my Affairs are in such a whimsical +Posture, that it will require a Calculation of my Nativity to find if my +Gold will relieve me or not.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Ha, ha, ha, never consult the Stars about that; Gold has +a Power beyond them; Gold unlocks the Midnight Councils; Gold out-does +the Wind, becalms the Ship, or fills her Sails; Gold is omnipotent +below; it makes whole Armies fight, or fly; It buys even Souls, and +bribes the Wretches to +<span class = "pagenum">2</span> +betray their Country: Then what can thy Business be, that Gold won't +serve thee in?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Why, I'm in Love.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> In Love— Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with +what, prithee, a <i>Cherubin!</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No, with a Woman.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> A Woman, Good, Ha, ha, ha, and Gold not help thee?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> But suppose I'm in Love with two—</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Ay, if thou'rt in Love with two hundred, Gold will fetch +'em, I warrant thee, Boy. But who are they? who are they? come.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> One is a Lady, whose Face I never saw, but Witty as +an Angel; the other Beautiful as <i>Venus</i>—</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> And a Fool—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> For ought I know, for I never spoke to her, but you +can inform me; I am charm'd by the Wit of One, and dye for the Beauty of +the Other?</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> And pray, which are you in Quest of now?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, +who is thy Father's Ward <i>Miranda</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more +part with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me +from starving.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Now you see Gold can't do every thing, +<i>Charles</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against +you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou +by such a Liberal Education?</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an +Uncle who defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, +tho' he made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of +Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and +now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, +than if it lay in <i>Prester John</i>'s Dominions.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">3</span> +<span class = "folionum">B2</span> +<i>Cha.</i> I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the +Mistress of Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too +cunning for me— I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then +for my last Refuge, a Brown Musquet.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What is't, can I assist thee?</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to +ask it.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I am always ready, but what do's he intend to do with +<i>Miranda?</i> Is she to be sold in private? or will he put her up by +way of Auction, at who bids most? If so, Egad, I'm for him: my Gold, as +you say, shall be subservient to my Pleasure.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> To deal ingeniously with you, Sir <i>George</i>, I know +very little of Her, or Home; for since my Uncle's Death, and my Return +from Travel, I have never been well with my Father; he thinks my +Expences too great, and I his Allowance too little; he never sees me, +but he quarrels; and to avoid that, I shun his House as much as +possible. The Report is, he intends to marry her himself.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Can she consent to it?</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you, I am wholly +ignorant of the matter. <i>Miranda</i> and I are like two violent +Members of a contrary Party, I can scarce allow her Beauty, tho' all the +World do's; nor she me Civility, for that Contempt, I fancy she plays +the Mother-in-law already, and sets the old Gentleman on to do +mischief.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Then I've your free Consent to get her.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Ay and my helping-hand, if occasion be.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Pugh, yonder's a Fool coming this way, let's avoid +him.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> What <i>Marplot</i>, no no, he's my Instrument; there's a +thousand Conveniences in him, he'll lend me his Money when he has any, +run of my Errands and be proud on't; in short, he'll Pimp for me, Lye +for me, Drink for me, do any thing but Fight for me, and that I trust to +my own Arm for.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Nay then he's to be endur'd; I never knew his +Qualifications before.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">4</span> +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Marplot</span> +with a Patch cross his Face.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Dear <i>Charles</i>, your's,— Ha! Sir <i>George +Airy</i>, the Man in the World, I have an Ambition to be known to +<span class = "insetdir">(aside.)</span> Give me thy Hand, dear +Boy—</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> A good Assurance! But heark ye, how came your Beautiful +Countenance clouded in the wrong place?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I must confess 'tis a little <i>Mal-a-propos</i>, but +no matter for that; a Word with you, <i>Charles</i>; Prithee, introduce +me to Sir <i>George</i>— he is a Man of Wit, and I'd give ten +Guinea's to—</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> When you have 'em, you mean.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the Thread of +my Discourse— I wou'd give ten Guinea's, I say, to be rank'd in his +Acquaintance: Well, 'tis a vast Addition to a Man's Fortune, according +to the Rout of the World, to be seen in the Company of Leading Men; for +then we are all thought to be Politicians, or Whigs, or Jacks, or +High-Flyers, or Low-Flyers, or Levellers—and so forth; for you +must know, we all herd in Parties now.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Then a Fool for Diversion is out of Fashion, I find.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Yes, without it be a mimicking Fool, and they are +Darlings every where; but prithee introduce me.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Well, on Condition you'll give us a true Account how you +came by that Mourning Nose, I will.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I'll do it.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Sir <i>George</i>, here's a Gentleman has a passionate +Desire to kiss your Hand.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this +Gentleman is lately come from <i>Spain</i> or <i>Portugal</i>—by +his Scars.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> No really, Sir <i>George</i>, mine sprung from civil +Fury, happening last Night into the Groom-Porters—I had a strong +Inclination to go ten Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a—kind of +a Milk Sop, as I thought: A Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets +being empty as <i>Charles</i> +<span class = "pagenum">5</span> +knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly <i>North-Britain</i>, and +broke my Face for my Deficiency.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha! ha! and did not you draw?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to +make a swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin +ye touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha, ha, ha,</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I +suppose.</p> + +<p><i>Marp.</i> Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to +my Friends you know—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope +you'll rank me in that Number.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Sir <i>George</i>, a Bow from the side Box, or to be +seen in your Chariot, binds me ever yours.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Trifles, you may command 'em when you please.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Provided he may command you—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Me! why I live for no other purpose— Sir +<i>George</i>, I have the Honour to be carest by most of the reigning +Toasts of the Town, I'll tell 'em you are the finest +Gentleman—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the +Ladies—my Parts—can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or +deliver a Message with an Air of Business, Ha!</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a +Statesman.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> You know <i>Miranda!</i></p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What, my Sister <i>Ward?</i> Why, her Guardian is mine, +we are Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd +Curmudgeon; that Sir <i>Francis Gripe</i> is a damn'd old—</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my +Father—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I ask your Pardon, <i>Charles</i>, but it is for your +sake I hate him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side +Piety, makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him +every Heir's Jaylor. Egad, <i>Charles</i>, I'm half persuaded that +thou'rt some <i>Ward</i> too, and never of +<span class = "pagenum">6</span> +his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee as ever Cuckolded Man of +Quality.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> A pleasant Fellow.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no +enduring his Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to +execute, but some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he +oftner spoils an Intreague than helps it—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my +Instructions.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pish, Pox, that was an Accident.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What was it, prithee?</p> + +<p><i>Ch.</i> Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my +hunting Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him +along with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to +the Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the +Letter, and offers her the Horses.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the +Letter to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones +paid for.</p> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Come, Sir <i>George</i>, let's walk round, if you are not +ingag'd, for I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have +order'd him to bring me the Answer into the Park.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I must beg your Pardon, <i>Charles</i>, I am to meet +your Father here.</p> + +<p><i>Ch.</i> My Father!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever +heard off; but I'll not impart till I know the Success.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What can his Business be with Sir <i>Francis?</i> Now +wou'd I give all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know +every Man's Concern.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs +too; over a Bottle we'll compare Notes.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">7</span> +<i>Marpl. Charles</i> knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, +I'll make one; shall it be to Night? <ins class = "correction" title = +"correct as printed">Ad</ins> I long to know their Secrets.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Whisper</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Whis.</i> Sir, Sir, Mis <i>Patch</i> says, <i>Isabinda</i>'s +Spanish Father has quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the +Park, but he infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must +step again to know the Hour.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What did <i>Whisper</i> say now? I shall go stark Mad, +if I'm not let into this Secret.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Cha.</i> Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels +Pleasure at her Name. Sir <i>George</i>, yours; we'll meet at the old +place the usual Hour.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Agreed; I think I see Sir <i>Francis</i> yonder.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Cha. Marplot</i>, you must excuse me, I am engag'd.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your +Engagement is.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Coming out of a +Chair.)</span> +Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That dog'd Sir <i>George</i> said he was +in the Park.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p>Ha! Mis <i>Patch</i> alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a +way to bring <i>Isabinda</i> to the Park?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched +Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my +Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is +right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible +Fright— At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at +leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he +snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which +my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your +Ladiship with the sad Relation.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Unhappy <i>Isabinda!</i> Was ever any thing so +unaccountable as the Humour of Sir <i><ins class = "correction" title = +"so in original">Jealousie</ins> Traffick</i>.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">8</span> +<i>Patch.</i> Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in <i>Spain</i>, he +vows he'll spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on +purpose to bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious +<i>Spanish</i> Customs— He swears it is the height of Impudence to +have a Woman seen Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's +a true begotten Child in the City.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose +he could introduce his rigid Rules—does he think we cou'd not +match them in Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he +will, if there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way +to break 'em: Is his Mind set upon the <i>Spaniard</i> for his +Son-in-law still?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives +his Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain +the same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your +Ladiship.— My Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a +way to make Sir <ins class = "correction" title = +"so in original"><i>Jealousie</i></ins> believe I am wholly in his +Interest, when my real Design is to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, +and I set her at Liberty.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service +to her, or I had not parted with thee to her Father.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry +your Guardian.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, +<i>Patch</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> But is it true, Madam?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> That's not absolutely necessary.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still +for your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my +Mind now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady +is with her Father.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would +she give now to be in this <i>dissabilee</i> in the—open Air, nay +more, in pursuit of the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I +assure thee.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' +<span class = "pagenum">9</span> +<span class = "folionum">C</span> +she can't come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old +<i>Argus</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Now <i>Patch</i>, your Opinion of my Choice, for here +he comes— Ha! my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of +this? I'm sure Sir <i>Francis</i> can't know me in this +Dress— Let's observe 'em.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(They withdraw.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">Francis +Gripe</span> and Sir <span class = "charname">George Airy</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Verily, Sir <i>George</i>, thou wilt repent throwing +away thy Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, <i>Miranda</i>, my Charge +do's not love a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good +Husbands; in sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> In sober +Sadness you are mistaken—what can this mean?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Look ye, Sir <i>Francis</i>, whether she can or +cannot abide young Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty +Guineas?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> In good truth— I will not, for I knew thy +Father, he was a hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son +should squander away what he sav'd, to no purpose.</p> + +<p><i>Mirand.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> Now, in the +Name of Wonder, what +Bargain can he be driving about me for fifty Guineas?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, +Madam.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Well, Sir <i>Francis</i>, since you are so +conscientious for my Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, +<i>Gratis</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> The Favour! +Oh my Life! I believe +'tis as you said, <i>Patch</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou +wou'd never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty +Sum— Let me see—a Hundred Guineas— <span class = +"insetdir">(Takes 'em out of +a Purse and chinks 'em.)</span> Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a +very pleasing Look— But then, <i>Miranda</i>— But if she +should be cruel—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> As Ten to +One I shall—</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">10</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No, I'll do't.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the +Conditions—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Pulling out a +Paper.)</span></p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> Ay for +Heaven's sake do, for my +Expectation is on the Rack.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well at your own Peril be it.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Aye, aye, go on.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran. Imprimis</i>, you are to be admitted into my +House in order to move your Suit to <i>Miranda</i>, for the space of Ten +Minutes, without Lett or Molestation, provided I remain in the same +Room.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> But out of Ear shot—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, +ha, ha, in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred +Guineas.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Take it—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Gives him the Purse.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> So, 'tis +well it's no worse, I'll fit +you both—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how +<i>Miranda</i> and I shall laugh at him— Well, Sir <i>George</i>, +Ha, ha, ha, take the last sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha.</p> +<div class = "stagedir"><span class = "stagedir">(Chinks +'em.)</span>(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> Sure he does +not know I am +<i>Miranda</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if +she should be really in Love with this old Cuff now— Psha, that's +morally impossible—but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never +spoke to her—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Peeping.)</span> Say you so? +Then I am safe.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a +thousand Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm +lucky—if not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(<span class = "charname">Miranda</span> and +<span class = "charname">Patch</span> come forwards.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Upon what Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">11</span> +<span class = "folionum">C2</span> +Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha! my <i>Incognito</i>—upon a Woman, Madam.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage +the soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see +your Return, Sir <i>George</i>, Ha, ha!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Were they more brittle than <i>China</i>, and drop'd +to pieces with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is +but Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum— Prithee let +me see thy Face.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my +Sense—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Rather confirm it, Madam.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never +spoils my Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no +danger—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed +against the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp +Husband upon your Forehead—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> For my Folly in having so often met you here, without +pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command— But I +resolve e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what +kind of Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me +to the trouble of doing it for you.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir +<i>George</i>, which if you'll be so rude to provoke.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> You'll apply it to my Cheek— The Ladies Favours +are always Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. <span class = +"insetdir">(Taking +hold of her.)</span> Remember you are in the <i>Park</i>, Child, and +what a terrible thing would it be to lose this pretty white Hand.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> And how will it sound in a <i>Chocolate-House</i>, that +Sir <i>George Airy</i> rudely pull'd off a Ladies Mask, when he had +given her his Honour, that he never would, directly or indirectly +endeavour to know her till she gave him Leave.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I wish we were safe out.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> But if that Lady thinks fit to pursue and meet me at +every turn like some troubl'd Spirit, shall I be blam'd +<span class = "pagenum">12</span> +if I inquire into the Reality? I would have nothing dissatisfy'd in a +Female Shape.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> What shall I do?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Pause.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, prithee consider, for thou shalt find me very +much at thy Service.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Suppose, Sir, the Lady shou'd be in Love with you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Oh! I'll return the Obligation in a Moment.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> And marry her?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha, ha, ha, that's not the way to Love her Child.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> If he discovers me, I shall die— Which way shall +I escape?— Let me see.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Pauses.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Well, Madam—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I have it— Sir <i>George</i>, 'tis fit you should +allow something; if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you +look upon me I shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I +have engag'd you so often, who I am, and where I live?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the +Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a +Secret to me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> What mean you, Madam?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> To get off.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a +Lady; but you command and I obey. <span class = "insetdir">(Turns his +Back.)</span> Come, Madam, +begin—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at +<i>Paris</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Draws back a little while and +speaks)</span> at a Ball +upon a Birth-Day; your Shape and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and +Complaisance my Soul, and from that fatal Night I lov'd you. <span class += "insetdir">(Drawing +back.)</span> And when you left the Place, Grief seiz'd me so— No +Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd know.—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,<br> +And quit the Place in search of Liberty.</div> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">13</span> +Sir <i>Geo.</i> Excellent— I hope she's Handsome— Well, Now, +Madam, to the other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?— I +am a Gentleman, and this Confession will not be lost upon me.— +Nay, prithee don't weep, but go on—for I find my Heart melts in thy +Behalf—speak quickly or I shall turn about— Not +yet.— Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and to do her +Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. <span class = +"insetdir">(Turns about.)</span> Ha? +gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented—of +<i>Paris</i>, Balls, and Birth-Days.— Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to +know who this Gipsie is.— A Curse of my Folly— I deserve to +lose her; what Woman can forgive a Man that turns his Back.</p> + +<div class = "versespace"> +The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War,<br> +To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way;<br> +The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair,<br> +As Courage makes the rudest Force obey,<br> +Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye,<br> +Closely pursue them and they fall before ye.</div> + +<div class = "sceneplain">The End of the First ACT.</div> + +<span class = "pagenum">14</span> + +<div class = "act"><a name = "actII_1">ACT the Second.</a></div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">Francis +Gripe</span>, <span class = "charname">Miranda</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i><br> +<span class = "secondletter">H</span>A, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with +Laughing.— The most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the +odious young Fop mean? A Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, +ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it +had been in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog.</p> + +<p><i>Mirand.</i> Indeed and Indeed, but you might +<i>Gardy</i>.— Now methinks there's no Body Handsomer than you; So +Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd, and so Loving.—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find +me, if thou do'st prefer thy <i>Gardy</i> before these Caperers of the +Age, thou shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an <i>Opera</i> Night; thou +shalt be the Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to +<i>Hide-Park</i>) and thy Equipage shall Surpass, the what—d'ye +call 'em Ambassadors.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me +more for the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside +Equipage.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one +too; and to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment +Disinherit my Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> There's an old Rogue now: <span class = +"insetdir">(Aside.)</span> No, +<i>Gardy</i>, I would not have your Name be so Black in the +World— You know my Father's Will runs, that I am not to possess my +Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five and Twenty; you shall only +abate the odd Seven Years, and make me Mistress of my Estate to Day, and +I'll make you Master of my Person to Morrow.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">15</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> Humph? that may not be safe— No <i>Chargy</i>, +I'll Settle it upon thee for <i>Pin-mony</i>; and that will be every bit +as well, thou know'st.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own +Money— Which way shall I get out of his Hands?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to +Banter Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too +well: <span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> No, <i>Gardy</i>, I have +thought of a way will +Confound him more than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven +Years.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm +Mad—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, <span class = +"insetdir">(Aside.)</span> +I'll not Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I +have you now, Sir <i>George</i>: Dumb! he'll go Distracted— Well, +she's the wittiest Rogue— Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to +think how damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away +for a a Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, <i>Gardy</i>, if he did but know my Thoughts of +him, it wou'd make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, so it wou'd <i>Chargy</i>, to hold him in such +Derision, to scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> How now, Sirrah, Who let you in?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> My Necessity, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and +ought to have sent before they Entred.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Sir, I knew 'twas a Word wou'd gain Admittance no +where.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Then, Sirrah, how durst you Rudely thrust that upon +your Father, which no Body else wou'd admit?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">16</span> +<i>Char.</i> Sure the Name of a Son is a sufficient Plea. I ask this +Lady's Pardon if I have intruded.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, Ay, ask her Pardon and her Blessing too, if you +expect any thing from me.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I believe yours, Sir <i>Francis</i>, in a Purse of +Guinea's wou'd be more material. Your Son may have Business with you, +I'll retire.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> I guess his Business, but I'll dispatch him, I +expect the Knight every Minute: You'll be in Readiness.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Certainly! my Expectation is more upon the wing than +yours, old Gentleman.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">[Exit.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, Sir!</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm +sure.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd +have made them better.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> If you please to intrust me with the Management of my +Estate, I shall endeavour it, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at +the Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or +by your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up +for Parliament-Man.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask +only for what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, +Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. +Adod these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them +to squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so +forth.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle +bred me like one.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, +Whoring, and the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he +falls into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, +employ Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">17</span> +<span class = "folionum">D</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> Sirrah, what is it you mutter, Sirrah, ha? <span class += "insetdir">(Holds up +his Cane.)</span> I say, you sha'n't have a Groat out of my Hands till I +Please—and may be I'll never Please, and what's that to you?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Nay, to be Robb'd, or have one's Throat Cut is not +much—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What's that, Sirrah? wou'd ye Rob me, or Cut my +Throat, ye Rogue?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Heaven forbid, Sir,— I said no such thing.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Mercy on me! What a Plague it is to have a Son of +One and Twenty, who wants to Elbow one out of one's Life, to Edge +himself into the Estate.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Egad he's here— I was afraid I had lost him: His +Secret cou'd not be with his Father, his Wants are Publick +there— Guardian,—your Servant <i>Charles</i>, I know by that +sorrowful Countenance of thine. The old Man's Fist is as close as his +strong Box— But I'll help thee—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> So: Here's another extravagant Coxcomb, that will +spend his Fortune before he comes to't; but he shall pay swinging +Interest, and so let the Fool go on— Well, what do's Necessity +bring you too, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> You have hit it, Guardian— I want a Hundred +Pound.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> For what?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Po'gh, for a Hundred Things, I can't for my Life tell +you for what.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Sir, I suppose I have received all the Answer I am like +to have.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose +him agen.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you +please— I must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in +mine.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty +haste.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">18</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be +long plagu'd with thee.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Gives him a Note.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have +<i>Charles</i> gone before I come back agen.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Runs out.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Well, Sir, I take my Leave— But remember, you +Expose an only Son to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too +often lays the Plan for Scenes of Mischief.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Stay, <i>Charles</i>, I have a sudden Thought come +into my Head, may prove to thy Advantage.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Ha, does he Relent?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> My Lady <i>Wrinkle</i>, worth Forty Thousand Pound, +sets up for a Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' +the Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can +introduce thee for nothing.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> My Lady <i>Wrinkle</i>, Sir, why she has but one +Eye.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, +Dirty, Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a +Rest for her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I +warrant you think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is +nothing with you.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful +Woman with half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but +you Chose better for your self, I find.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with +my Marriage, Sirrah.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Sir, I obey: But—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> But me no Buts— Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me +for Money agen— Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I +say, without Reply.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit <span class = +"charname">Char</span>.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servant.</div> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> One Sir <i>George Airy</i> enquires for you, Sir.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">19</span> +<span class = "folionum">D2</span></p> +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Marplot</span> +Running.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i>. Ha? gone! Is <i>Charles</i> gone, Guardian?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after +him.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of +the Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him +now. I shall certainly lose this Secret.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit, hastily.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What is the Fellow distracted?— Desire Sir +<i>George</i> to walk up— Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make +me Happy, and him a Fool: Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass +already.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">George</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, Sir <i>George</i>, Dee ye hold in the same +Mind? or wou'd you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, +<span class = "insetdir">(Chinks them.)</span> Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir <i>Francis</i>: +Therefore be brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post—if she's +a Woman, and, not seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his +Heart ake; for if she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll +vary a Thousand Shapes, but find it.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname"><ins class = +"correction" title = "so in original">Mirand</ins></span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Agreed—<i>Miranda.</i> There Sir +<i>George</i>, try your Fortune, <span class = "insetdir">(Takes out his +Watch.)</span></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i></p> +<div class = "plainverse"> +So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun,<br> +Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below. +</div> +<div class = "stagedir">(Salutes her.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Oh! That's by way of Prologue:— Prithee, Old +Mammon, to thy Post.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, young <i>Timon</i>, 'tis now 4 exactly; one +Hour, remember is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Retires to the bottom of the Stage.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the +Author of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the +Life of your Admirer; your +<span class = "pagenum">20</span> +sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love; your Vivacity a Soul +too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd Mortality.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> Oh, that I +durst speak—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Shake off this Tyrant <i>Guardian</i>'s Yoke, assume +your self, and dash his bold aspiring Hopes; the Deity of his Desires, +is Avarice; a Heretick in Love, and ought to be banish'd by the Queen of +Beauty. See, Madam, a faithful Servant kneels and begs to be admitted in +the Number of your Slaves.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Miranda <i>gives him her Hand to Raise +him.</i></div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> I wish I cou'd hear what he says now. <span class = +"insetdir">(Running +up.)</span> Hold, hold, hold, no Palming, that's contrary to +Articles—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Death, Sir, Keep your Distance, or I'll write another +Article in your Guts.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Lays his Hand to his Sword.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Going back.)</span> A +Bloody-minded +Fellow!—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Not Answer me! Perhaps she thinks my Address too +Grave: I'll be more free— Can you be so Unconscionable, Madam, to +let me say all these fine things to you without one single Compliment in +Return? View me well, am I not a proper Handsome Fellow, ha? Can you +prefer that old, dry, wither'd, sapless Log of Sixty-five, to the +vigorous, gay, sprightly Love of Twenty-four? With Snoring only he'll +awake thee, but I with Ravishing Delight wou'd make thy Senses Dance in +Consort with the Joyful Minutes—ha? not yet, sure she is +Dumb— Thus wou'd I steal and touch thy Beauteous Hand, <span class += "insetdir">(Takes +bold of her Hand)</span> till by degrees I reach'd thy snowy Breasts, +then Ravish Kisses thus,</p> + +<div class = "stagedir">(Embraces her in Extasie.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Strugles and flings from +him.)</span> Oh Heavens! I +shall not be able to contain my self.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Running up with his Watch +in his Hand.)</span> Sure +she did not speak to him— There's Three Quarters of the Hour gone, +Sir <i>George</i>— Adod, I don't like those close +Conferences—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> More Interruptions— You will have it, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Lays his Hand to his Sword.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">21</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Going back.)</span> No, no, +you shan't have her +neither.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Dumb still—sure this old Dog has enjoyn'd her +Silence; I'll try another way— I must conclude, Madam, that in +Compliance to your Guardian's Humour, you refuse to answer +me— Consider the Injustice of his Injunction. This single Hour cost +me a Hundred Pound—and wou'd you answer me, I cou'd purchase the +24 so: However, Madam, you must give me leave to make the best +Interpretation I can for my Money, and take the Indication of your +Silence for the secret Liking of my Person: Therefore, Madam, I will +instruct you how to keep your Word inviolate to Sir <i>Francis</i>, and +yet Answer me to every Question: As for Example, When I ask any thing, +to which you wou'd Reply in the Affirmative, gently Nod your +Head—thus; and when in the Negative thus; <span class = +"insetdir">(Shakes his +Head.)</span> and in the doubtful a tender Sigh, thus</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sighs.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> How every Action charms me—but I'll fit him for +Signs I warrant him.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir <i>George</i>, Ha, ha, ha, +ha.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Was it by his desire that you are Dumb, Madam, to all +that I can say?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Nods.)</span></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Very well! she's tractable I find— And is it +possible that you can love him? Miraculous! <span class = +"insetdir">(<span class = "charname">Miran.</span> Nods.)</span> Pardon +the bluntness of my +Questions, for my Time is short; may I not hope to supplant him in your +Esteem? <span class = "insetdir">(<span class = "charname">Miran.</span> +Sighs.)</span> Good! she +answers me as I could wish— You'll not consent to marry him then? +<span class = "insetdir">(<span class = "charname">Miran.</span> +Sighs.)</span> How, doubtful in +that— Undone again— Humph! but that may proceed from his +Power to keep her out of her Estate till Twenty Five; I'll try +that— Come, Madam, I cannot think you hesitate in this Affair out +of any Motive, but your Fortune— Let him keep it till those few +Years are expir'd; make me Happy with your Person, let him enjoy your +Wealth—<span class = "insetdir">(<span class = +"charname">Miran.</span> holds up her +Hands.)</span> Why, +<span class = "pagenum">22</span> +what Sign is that now? Nay, nay, Madam, except you observe my Lesson, I +can't understand your meaning—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What a Vengeance, are they talking by Signs, 'ad I +may be fool'd here; what do you mean, Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> To Cut your Throat if you dare Mutter another +Syllable.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Od! I wish he were fairly out of my House.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Pray, Madam, will you answer me to the Purpose? +<span class = "insetdir">(<span class = "charname">Miran.</span> shakes +her Head, and points +to Sir <span class = "charname">Francis</span>.)</span> What! does she +mean she won't answer me to the purpose, or is she afraid yon' old Cuff +should understand her Signs?— Aye, it must be that, I perceive, +Madam, you are too apprehensive of the Promise you have made to follow +my Rules; therefore I'll suppose your Mind and answer for +you— First, for my self, Madam, that I am in Love with you is an +infallible Truth. Now for you: <span class = "insetdir">(Turns on her +side.)</span> Indeed, Sir, +and may I believe it— As certainly, Madam, as that 'tis Day light, +or that I Die if you persist in Silence— Bless me with the Musick +of your Voice, and raise my Spirits to their proper Heaven: Thus low let +me intreat; e'er I'm oblig'd to quit this Place, grant me some Token of +a favourable Reception to keep my Hopes alive. <span class = +"insetdir">(Arises hastily turns +of her side.)</span> Rise, Sir, and since my Guardian's Presence will +not allow me Privilege of Tongue, Read that and rest assured you are not +indifferent to me. <span class = "insetdir">(Offers her a +Letter.)</span> Ha! right Woman! But no +<span class = "insetdir">(She strikes it down.)</span> matter I'll go +on.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha! what's that a Letter— Ha, ha, ha, thou art +baulk'd.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> The best Assurance I ever saw—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha? a Letter, Oh! let me Kiss it with the same +Raptures that I would do the dear Hand that touch'd it. <span class = +"insetdir">(Opens +it.)</span> Now for a quick Fancy and a long <i>Extempore</i>— +What's here? <span class = "insetdir">(Reads.)</span> +"Dear, Sir <i>George</i>, this Virgin Muse I +consecrate to you, which when it has receiv'd the Addition of your +Voice, 'twill Charm me into Desire of Liberty to Love, which you, and +only you can +<span class = "pagenum">23</span> +fix." My Angel! Oh you transport me! <span class = "insetdir">(Kisses +the Letter.)</span> And see +the Power of your Command; the God of Love has set the Verse already; +the flowing Numbers Dance into a Tune, and I'm inspir'd with a Voice to +sing it.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I'm sure thou art inspir'd with Impudence enough.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Sings.)</span></p> +<div class = "verse"> +Great Love inspire him;<br> +Say I admire him.<br> +Give me the Lover<br> +That can discover<br> +Secret Devotion<br> +from silent Motion;<br> +Then don't betray me,<br> +But hence convey me. +</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Taking hold of <span class += "charname">Miranda</span>.)</span> With all my Heart, this Moment +let's Retire. <span class = "insetdir">(Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span> coming up hastily.)</span></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> The Hour is expir'd, Sir, and you must take your +leave. There, my Girl, there's the Hundred Pound which thou hast won, +go, I'll be with you presently, Ha, ha, ha, ha.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit <span class = +"charname">Miranda</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ads Heart, Madam, you won't leave me just in the +Nick, will you?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, she has nick'd you, Sir <i>George</i>, I +think, Ha, ha, ha: Have you any more Hundred Pounds to throw away upon +Courtship, Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> He, he, he, he, a Curse of your fleering +Jests— Yet, however ill I succeeded, I'll venture the same Wager, +she does not value thee a spoonful of Snuff— Nay more, though you +enjoyn'd her Silence to me, you'll never make her speak to the Purpose +with your self.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, did not I tell thee thou would'st repent +thy Money? Did not I say she hated young Fellow's, Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> And I'm positive she's not in Love with Age.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, no matter for that, Ha, ha, she's not taken +with your Youth, nor your Rhetorick to boot, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking<ins class = +"correction" title = "reading uncertain"> a </ins>me, I am certain she +can be taken with nothing about thee.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">24</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha; how he swells with Envy!— Poor Man, +poor Man— Ha, ha; I must beg your Pardon, Sir <i>George, +Miranda</i> will be Impatient to have her share of Mirth: Verily we +shall Laugh at thee most Egregiously; Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> With all my Heart, faith—I shall Laugh in my +Turn too— For if you dare marry her old <i>Belzebub</i>, you would +be Cuckolded most Egregiously; Remember that, and Tremble—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +She that to Age her Beauteous Self resigns,<br> +Shows witty Management for close Designs.<br> +Then if thou'rt grac'd with fair <span class = +"charname">Miranda</span>'s Bed,<br> +<span class = "charname">Actæon</span>'s Horns she Means, shall Crown +thy Head. +</div> + +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha; he is mad.</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +These fluttering Fops imagine they can Wind,<br> +Turn, and Decoy to Love, all Women-kind:<br> +But here's a Proof of Wisdom in my Charge,<br> +Old Men are Constant, Young Men live at Large.<br> +The Frugal Hand can Bills at Sight defray,<br> +When he that Lavish is, has Nought to pay. +</div> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actII_2"> </a> +<div class = "scene"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> Changes to +Sir <span class = "charname">Jealous Traffick</span>'s House.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">Jealous, +Isabinda; Patch</span> following.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What in the Balcone agen, notwithstanding my +positive Commands to the contrary!— Why don't you write a Bill upon +your Forehead, to show Passengers there's something to be Let—</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What harm can there be in a little fresh Air, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Is your Constitution so hot, Mistriss, that it wants +cooling, ha? Apply the Virtuous <i>Spanish</i> Rules, banish your Tast, +and Thoughts of Flesh, feed upon Roots, and quench your Thirst with +Water.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> That, and a close Room, wou'd certainly make me die of +the Vapours.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">25</span> +<span class = "folionum">E</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> No, Mistriss, 'tis your High-fed, Lusty, Rambling, +Rampant Ladies—that are troubl'd with the Vapours; 'tis your +Ratifia, Persico, Cynamon, Citron, and Spirit of Clary, cause such +Swi—m—ing in the Brain, that carries many a Guinea full-tide +to the Doctor. But you are not to be Bred this way; No Galloping abroad, +no receiving Visits at home; for in our loose Country, the Women are as +dangerous as the Men.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> So I told her, Sir; and that it was not Decent to be +seen in a Balcone— But she threaten'd to slap my Chaps, and told +me, I was her Servant, not her Governess.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Did she so? But I'll make her to know, that you are +her <i>Duenna</i>: Oh that incomparable Custom of <i>Spain!</i> why +here's no depending upon old Women in my Country—for they are as +Wanton at Eighty, as a Girl of Eighteen; and a Man may as safely trust +to <i>Asgill</i>'s Translation, as to his great Grand-Mother's not +marrying agen.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Or to the <i>Spanish</i> Ladies Veils, and +<i>Duenna's</i>, for the Safeguard of their Honour.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Dare to Ridicule the Cautious Conduct of that wise +Nation, and I'll have you Lock'd up this Fortnight, without a +Peephole.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> If we had but the Ghostly Helps in <i>England</i>, which +they have in <i>Spain</i>, I might deceive you if you did,— Sir, +'tis not the Restraint, but the Innate Principles, secures the +Reputation and Honour of our Sex— Let me tell you, Sir, +Confinement +sharpens the Invention, as want of Sight strengthens the other Senses, +and is often more Pernicious than the Recreation innocent Liberty +allows.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Say you so, Mistress, who the Devil taught you the +Art of Reasoning? I assure you, they must have a greater Faith than I +pretend to, that can think any Woman innocent who requires Liberty. +Therefore, <i>Patch</i>, to your Charge I give her; Lock her up till I +come back from Change: I shall have some sauntring Coxcomb, with nothing +but a Red Coat and a Feather, think, by Leaping into her Arms, to Leap +into my Estate— But I'll prevent them, she shall be only Signeur +<i>Babinetto</i>'s.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">26</span> +<i>Patch.</i> Really, Sir, I wish you wou'd employ any Body else in this +Affair; I lead a Life like a Dog with obeying your Commands. Come, +Madam, will you please to be Lock'd up.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Ay, to enjoy more Freedom than he is aware of. +<span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit with <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I believe this Wench is very true to my Interest: I +am happy I met with her, if I can but keep my Daughter from being blown +upon till Signeur <i>Babinetto</i> arrives; who shall marry her as soon +as he comes, and carry her to <i>Spain</i> as soon as he has marry'd +her; she has a pregnant Wit, and I'd no more have her an <i>English</i> +Wife, than the Grand Signior's Mistress.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Whisper</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> So, I see Sir <i>Jealous</i> go out; where shall I find +Mrs. <i>Patch</i> now.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh Mr. <i>Whisper</i>, my Lady saw you out at the +Window, and order'd me to bid you fly, and let your Master know she's +now alone.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Hush, Speak softly; I go, go: But hark'e Mrs. +<i>Patch</i>, shall not you and I have a little Confabulation, when my +Master and your Lady is engag'd?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ay, Ay, Farewell.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Goes in, and shuts the Door.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Re-enter Sir <span class = "charname">Jealous +Traffick</span> meeting <span class = "charname">Whisper</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Sure whil'st I was talking with Mr. +<i>Tradewell</i>, I heard my Door clap. <span class = "insetdir">(Seeing +<span class = "charname">Whisper</span>.)</span> Ha! a Man lurking about +my House; who do +you want there, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Want—want, a pox, Sir <i>Jealous!</i> what must I +say now?—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ay, want; have you a Letter or Message for any Body +there?— O my Conscience, this is some He-Bawd—</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Letter or Message, Sir!</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">27</span> +<span class = "folionum">E2</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ay, Letter or Message, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> No, not I, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll have you set in the Stocks, if +you don't tell me your Business immediately.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Nay, Sir, my Business—is no great matter of +Business neither; and yet 'tis Business of Consequence too.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Sirrah, don't trifle with me.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Trifle, Sir, have you found him, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Found what, you Rascal.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Why <i>Trifle</i> is the very Lap-Dog my Lady lost, +Sir; I fancy'd I see him run into this House. I'm glad you have +him— Sir, my Lady will be over-joy'd that 1 have found him.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Who is your Lady Friend?</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> My Lady Love-puppy, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> My Lady Love-puppy! then prithee carry thy self to +her, for I know no other Whelp that belongs to her; and let me catch ye +no more Puppy-hunting about my Doors, lest I have you prest into the +Service, Sirrah.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> By no means, Sir— Your humble Servant; I must +watch whether he goes, or no, before I can tell my Master.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> This Fellow has the Officious Leer of a Pimp; and I +half suspect a Design, but I'll be upon them before they think on me, I +warrant 'em.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actII_3"> </a> +<div class = "scene"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> <span class += "charname">Charles</span>'s Lodging.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Charles</span> +and <span class = "charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Honest <i>Marplot</i>, I thank thee for this Supply; I +expect my Lawyer with a Thousand Pound I have order'd him to take up, +and then you shall be Repaid.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pho, pho, no more of that: Here comes Sir <i>George +Airy</i>—</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">George</span>.</div> + +<p>Cursedly out of Humour at his Disappointment; see how he looks! Ha, +ha, ha.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">28</span> +Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ah, <i>Charles</i>, I am so humbled in my Pretensions to +Plots upon Women, that I believe I shall never have Courage enough to +attempt a Chamber-maid agen—I'll tell thee.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Ha, ha; I'll spare you the Relation by telling +you— Impatient to know your Business with my Father, when I saw +you Enter, I slipt back into the next Room, where I overheard every +Syllable.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> That I said— But I'll be hang'd if you heard her +Answer—. But prithee tell me, <i>Charles</i>, is she a Fool?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I ne'er suspected her for one; but <i>Marplot</i> can +inform you better, if you'll allow him a Judge.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> A Fool! I'll justifie she has more Wit than all the +rest of her Sex put together; why she'll Rally me, till I han't one word +to say for my self.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> A mighty Proof of her Wit truly—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> There must be some Trick in't, Sir <i>George</i>; Egad +I'll find it out if it cost me the Sum you paid for't.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Do and Command me—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Enough, let me alone to Trace a Secret.—</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Whisper</span>, +and speaks aside to his Master.</div> + +<p>The Devil! <i>Whisper</i> here agen, that Fellow never speaks out; is +this the same, or a new Secret? Sir <i>George</i>, won't you ask +<i>Charles</i> what News <i>Whisper</i> brings?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Not I, Sir; I suppose it does not relate to me.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Lord, Lord, how little Curiosity some People have! Now +my chief Pleasure lies in knowing every Body's Business.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I fancy, <i>Charles</i>, thou hast some Engagement +upon thy Hands: I have a little Business too. <i>Marplot</i>, if it +falls in your way to bring me any Intelligence from <i>Miranda</i>, +you'll find me at the Thatch'd House at Six—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> You do me much Honour.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> You guess right, Sir <i>George</i>, wish me Success.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Better than attended me. <i>Adieu</i>.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Char. Marplot</i>, you must Excuse me.—</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">29</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> Nay, nay, what need of any Excuse amongst Friends! I'll go +with you.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Indeed you must not.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> No, then I suppose 'tis a Duel, and I will go to secure +ye.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Secure me, why you won't fight.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What then! I can call People to part ye.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Well, but it is no Duel, Consequently no Danger. +Therefore prithee be Answer'd.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What is't a Mistress then?— Mum— You know I +can be silent upon occasion.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I wish you cou'd be Civil too: I tell you, You neither +Must nor Shall go with me. Farewel.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why then— I Must and Will follow you.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">Exit.</div> + +<div class = "scene">The End of the Second Act.</div> + + +<div class = "act"><a name = "actIII_1">ACT the Third</a></div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i><br> +<span class = "secondletter">W</span>ELL, here's the House, which holds +the Lovely Prize quiet and serene; here no noisie Footmen throng to tell +the World, that Beauty dwells within; no Ceremonious Visit makes the +Lover wait; no Rival to give my Heart a Pang; who wou'd not scale the +Window at Midnight without fear of the Jealous Father's Pistol, rather +than fill up the Train of a Coquet, where every Minute he is jostled out +of Place. <span class = "insetdir">(Knocks softly.)</span> Mrs. +<i>Patch</i>, Mrs. +<i>Patch.</i></p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh, are you come, Sir? All's safe.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> So in, in then.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">30</span> +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> There he goes: Who the Devil lives here? Except I can +find out that, I am as far from knowing his Business as ever; gad I'll +watch, it may be a Bawdy-House, and he may have his Throat cut; if there +shou'd be any Mischief, I can make Oath, he went in. Well, +<i>Charles</i>, in spight of your Endeavour to keep me out of the +Secret; I may save your Life, for ought I know: At that Corner I'll +plant my self; there I shall see whoever goes in, or comes out. Gad, I +love Discoveries.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc"><span class = "charname">SCENE</span> Draws. +<span class = "charname">Charles, Isabinda,</span> and <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Isab. Patch</i>, look out sharp; have a care of Dad.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I warrant you.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Well, Sir, if I may judge your Love by your Courage, I +ought to believe you sincere; for you venture into the Lyons Den when +you come to see me.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> If you'd consent whilst the furious Beast is abroad, I'd +free you from the Reach of his Paws.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> That wou'd be but to avoid one Danger, by running into +another; like the poor Wretches, who fly the Burning Ship, and meet +their Fate in the Water. Come, come, <i>Charles</i>, I fear if I consult +my Reason, Confinement and Plenty is better than Liberty and Starving. I +know you'd make the Frolick pleasing for a little time, by Saying and +Doing a World of tender things; but when our small Substance is once +Exhausted, and a Thousand Requisits for Life are Wanting; Love, who +rarely dwells with Poverty, wou'd also fail us.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Faith, I fancy not; methinks my Heart has laid up a +Stock will last for Life; to back which, I have taken a Thousand Pound +upon my Uncle's Estate; that surely will support us, till one of our +Fathers relent.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> There's no trusting to that my Friend, I doubt your +Father will carry his Humour to the Grave, and mine till he sees me +settled in <i>Spain</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> And can ye then cruelly Resolve to stay till that +<span class = "pagenum">31</span> +curs'd <i>Don</i> arrives, and suffer that Youth, Beauty, Fire and Wit, +to be sacrific'd to the Arms of a dull <i>Spaniard</i>, to be Immur'd +and forbid the Sight of any thing that's Humane.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> No, when it comes to the Extremity, and no Stratagem can +Relieve us, thou shalt List for a Soldier, and I'll carry thy Knapsack +after thee.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Bravely Resolv'd; the World cannot be more Savage than +our Parents, and Fortune generally assists the Bold; therefore Consent +now: Why shou'd we put it to a future Hazard? who knows when we shall +have another Opportunity?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Oh, you have your Ladder of Ropes, I suppose, and the +Closet Window stands just where it did; and if you han't forgot to write +in Characters, <i>Patch</i> will find a way for our Assignations. Thus +much of the <i>Spanish</i> Contrivance, my Father's Severity has taught +me, I thank him; tho' I hate the Nation, I admire their Management in +these Affairs.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh, Madam, I see my Master coming up the Street.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh the Devil, wou'd I had my Ladder now; I thought you +had not expected him till Night; why, why, why, why; what shall I do, +Madam?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Oh, for Heaven's sake! don't go that way, you'll meet +him full in the Teeth: Oh unlucky Moment!—</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Adsheart, can you shut me into no Cupboard, Ram me into +no Chest, ha?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Impossible, Sir, he Searches every Hole in the +House.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Undone for ever! if he sees you, I shall never see you +more.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I have thought on't: Run you to your Chamber, Madam; +and Sir, come you along with me, I'm certain you may easily get down +from the Balcone.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> My Life, <i>Adieu</i>— Lead on, Guide.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Heaven preserve him.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actIII_2"> </a> +<span class = "pagenum">32</span> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> Changes +to the Street.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>, with <span class = "charname">Marplot</span> +behind him.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I don't know what's the matter; but I have a strong +Suspicion, all is not right within; that Fellow's sauntring about my +Door, and his Tale of a Puppy, had the Face of a Lye, methought. By St. +<i>Jago</i>, if I shou'd find a Man in the House, I'd make Mince-Meat of +him—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ah, poor <i>Charles</i>—ha? Agad he is +old— I fancy I might bully him, and make <i>Charles</i> have an +Opinion of my Courage.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> My own Key shall let me in; I'll give them no +Warning.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Feeling for his Key.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What's that you say, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Going up to Sir +<span class = "charname">Jealous</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What's that to you, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Turns quick upon him.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Yes, 'tis to me, Sir; for the Gentleman you threaten is +a very honest Gentleman. Look to't, for if he comes not as safe out of +your House, as he went in, I have half a Dozen <i>Mirmidons</i> hard-by +shall beat it about your Ears.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Went in; what is he in then? Ah! a Combination to +undo me— I'll <i>Mirmidon</i> you, ye Dog you— Thieves, +Thieves.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(<ins class = "correction" title = +"so in original">Beat<span class = "charname">'s Marplot</span></ins> +all this while he cries <span class = "charname">Thieves</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Murder, Murder; I was not in your House, Sir.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servant.</div> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> What's the matter, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> The Matter, Rascals? Have you let a Man into my +House; but I'll flea him Alive, follow me, I'll not leave a Mousehole +unsearch'd; if I find him, by St. <i>Jago</i>, I'll Equip him for the +<i>Opera.</i></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> A Duce of his Cane, there's no trusting to +Age—what shall I do to Relieve <i>Charles!</i> Egad, I'll raise +the Neighbourhood— Murder, Murder— <span class = +"insetdir">(<span class = +"charname">Charles</span> drops down upon him from the Balcone.)</span> +<i>Charles</i> faith I'm glad to see thee safe out, with all my +Heart.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> A Pox of your Bawling: How the Devil came you here?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">33</span> +<span class = "folionum">F</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> Here, gad I have done you a piece of Service; I told the +old Thunderbolt, that the Gentleman that was gone in was—</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Was it you that told him, Sir? <span class = +"insetdir">(Laying hold of +him.)</span> Z'death, I cou'd crush thee into Atoms.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What will you choak me for my Kindness?—will my +Enquiring Soul never leave Searching into other Peoples Affairs, till it +gets squeez'd out of my Body? I dare not follow him now, for my Blood, +he's in such a Passion— I'll to <i>Miranda</i>; if I can discover +ought that may oblige Sir <i>George</i>, it may be a means to Reconcile +me agen to <i>Charles</i>.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span> and <span class = +"charname">Servants</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Are you sure you have search'd every where?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Yes, from the Top of the House to the Bottom.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Under the Beds, and over the Beds?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Yes, and in them too, but found no Body, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Why, what cou'd this Rogue mean?</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Isabinda</span> +and <span class = "charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Take Courage, Madam, I saw him safe out.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside to <span class = +"charname">Isab</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Bless me! what's the matter, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> You know best— Pray where's the Man that was +here just now?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What Man, Sir? I saw none!</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Nor I, by the Trust you repose in me; do you think I +wou'd let a Man come within these Doors, when you were absent?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ah <i>Patch</i>, she may be too cunning for thy +Honesty; the very Scout that he had set to give Warning discover'd it to +me—and threaten'd me with half a Dozen <i>Mirmidons</i>— But +I think I maul'd the Villain. These Afflictions you draw upon me, +Mistress!</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Pardon me, Sir, 'tis your own Ridiculous Humour draws +you into these Vexations, and gives every Fool pretence to banter +you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> No, 'tis your Idle Conduct, your Coquetish Flurting +into the Balcone— Oh with what Joy shall I resign thee into the +Arms of Don <i>Diego Babinetto!</i></p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">34</span> +<i>Isab.</i> And with what Industry shall I avoid him!</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Certainly that Rogue had a Message from some body or +other; but being baulk'd by my coming, popt that Sham upon me. Come +along, ye Sots, let's see if we can find the Dog again. <i>Patch</i>, +lock her up; D'ye hear?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit with Servants.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, Sir—ay, walk till your Heels ake, you'll +find no Body, I promise you.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Who cou'd that Scout be, which he talks of?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Nay, I can't imagine, without it was +<i>Whisper</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Well, dear <i>Patch</i>, let's employ all our Thoughts +how to escape this horrid Don <i>Diego</i>, my very Heart sinks at his +Terrible Name.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Fear not, Madam, Don <i>Carlo</i> shall be the Man, or +I'll lose the Reputation of Contriving, and then what's a Chambermaid +good for?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Say'st thou so, my Girl: Then—</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +Let Dad be Jealous, multiply his Cares,<br> +While Love instructs me to avoid the Snares;<br> +I'll, spight of all his <span class = "charname">Spanish</span> Caution, +show<br> +How much for Love a <span class = "charname">British</span> Maid can do. +</div> + +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actIII_3"> </a> +<div class = "scene"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> Sir <span +class = "charname">Francis Gripe</span>'s House.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Sir <span class = "charname">Francis</span> and +<span class = "charname">Miranda</span> meeting.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Well, <i>Gardee</i>, how did I perform my Dumb +Scene?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> To Admiration— Thou dear little Rogue, let me +buss thee for it: Nay, adod, I will, <i>Chargee</i>, so muzle, and +tuzle, and hug thee; I will, I faith, I will.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Hugging and Kissing her.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, <i>Gardee</i>, don't be so lavish; who wou'd Ride +Post, when the Journey lasts for Life?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ah wag, ah wag— I'll buss thee agen for +that.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Faugh! how he stinks of Tobacco! what a delicate +Bedfellow I shou'd have!</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Oh I'm Transported! When, when, my Dear, wilt thou +Convince the World of thy Happy Day? when shall we marry, ha?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">35</span> +<span class = "folionum">F2</span> +<i>Miran.</i> There's nothing wanting but your Consent, Sir +<i>Francis</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> My Consent! what do's my Charmer mean?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, 'tis only a Whim: But I'll have every thing +according to form— Therefore when you sign an Authentick Paper, +drawn up by an able Lawyer, that I have your Leave to marry, the next +Day makes me yours, <i>Gardee</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, a Whim indeed! why is it not +Demonstration I give my Leave when I marry thee.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Not for your Reputation, <i>Gardee</i>; the malicious +World will be apt to say, you trick'd me into Marriage, and so take the +Merit from my Choice. Now I will have the Act my own, to let the idle +Fops see how much I prefer a Man loaded with Years and Wisdom.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Humph! Prithee leave out Years, <i>Chargee</i>, I'm +not so old, as thou shalt find: Adod, I'm young; there's a Caper for +ye.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Jumps.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh never excuse it, why I like you the better for being +old— But I shall suspect you don't love me, if you Refuse me this +Formality.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Not Love thee, <i>Chargee!</i> Adod I do love thee +better than, than, than, better than—what shall I say? Egad, +better than Money, I faith I do—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> That's false I'm sure <span class = +"insetdir">(Aside.)</span> To prove it do +this then.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, I will do it, <i>Chargee</i>, provided I bring +a License at the same time.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Ay, and a Parson too, if you please; Ha, ha, ha, I +can't help Laughing to think how all the young Coxcombs about Town will +be mortify'd when they hear of our Marriage.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> So they will, so they will; Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Well, I fancy I shall be so happy with my +<i>Gardee!</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> If wearing Pearls and Jewels, or eating Gold, as the +old Saying is, can make thee happy, thou shalt be so, my Sweetest, my +Lovely, my Charming, my—verily I know not what to call thee.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> You must know, <i>Gardee</i>, that I am so eager to +have this Business concluded, that I have employ'd my Womans Brother, +who is a Lawyer in the <i>Temple</i>, to settle Matters +<span class = "pagenum">36</span> +just to your Liking, you are to give your Consent to my Marriage, which +is to your self, you know: But Mum, you must take up notice of that. So +then I will, that is, with your Leave, put my Writings into his Hands; +then to Morrow we come slap upon them with a Wedding, that no body +thought on; by which you seize me and my Estate, and I suppose make a +Bonfire of your own Act and Deed.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Nay, but <i>Chargee</i>, if—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, <i>Gardee</i>, no Ifs— Have I refus'd three +<i>Northern</i> Lords, two <i>British</i> Peers, and half a score +Knights, to have you put in your Ifs?—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> So thou hast indeed, and I will trust to thy +Management. Od, I'm all of a Fire.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> 'Tis a wonder the dry Stubble does not blaze.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> How now! who sent for you, Sir? What's the Hundred +Pound gone already?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> No, Sir, I don't want Money now.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you <ins +class = "correction" title = "text reads 'wan't'">want</ins>, I'm +sure.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ay, what's that, <i>Guardian?</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Manners, what had I no Servants without?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> None that cou'd do my Business, <i>Guardian</i>, which +is at present with this Lady.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> With me, Mr. <i>Marplot!</i> what is it, I beseech +you?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, Sir, what is it? any thing that relates to her +may be deliver'd to me.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I deny that.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> That's more than I do, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Indeed, Madam, why then to proceed: Fame says, that you +and my most Conscionable <i>Guardian</i> here, design'd, contriv'd, +plotted and agreed to chouse a very civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, +out of a Hundred Pound.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> That I contrived it!</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ay you— You said never a Word against it, so far +you are Guilty.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Pray tell that civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, +<span class = "pagenum">37</span> +that if he has any more such Sums to fool away, they shall be received +like the last; Ha, ha, ha, ha, chous'd, quotha! But hark ye, let him +know at the same time, that if he dare to report I trick'd him of it, I +shall recommend a Lawyer to him shall shew him a Trick for twice as +much; D'ye hear, tell him that.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> So, and this is the way you use a Gentleman, and my +Friend.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Is the Wretch thy Friend?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> The Wretch! Look ye, Madam, don't call Names; Egad I +won't take it.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Why you won't beat me, will you? Ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I don't know whether I will or no.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Sir, I shall make a Servant shew you out at the +Window if you are sawcy.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I am your most humble Servant, <i>Guardian</i>; I +design to go out the same way I came in. I wou'd only ask this Lady, if +she do's not think in her Soul Sir <i>George Airy</i> is not a fine +Gentleman.</p> + +<p><i>Miram.</i> He Dresses well.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Which is chiefly owing to his Taylor, and <i>Valet +de Chamber</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> And if you allow that a proof of his being a fine +Gentleman, he is so.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> The judicious part of the World allow him Wit, Courage, +Gallantry and Management; tho' I think he forfeited that Character, when +he flung away a Hundred Pound upon your Dumb Ladyship.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Does that gaul him? Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> So, Sir <i>George</i> remaining in deep Discontent, has +sent you his trusty Squire, to utter his Complaint: Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, +value it no more—than I wou'd your Ladyship, were I Sir +<i>George</i>, you, you, you—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh, don't call Names. I know you love to be employ'd, +and I'll oblige you; and you shall carry him a Message from me.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">38</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> According as I like it: What is it?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Nay, a kind one you may be sure— First tell him, +I have chose this Gentleman to have, and to hold, and so forth.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Clapping her Hand into Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span>'s.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Oh the dear Rogue, how I dote on her!</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> And advise his Impertinence to trouble me no more, for +I prefer Sir <i>Francis</i> for a Husband before all the Fops in the +Universe.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Oh Lord, Oh Lord! She's bewitch'd, that's certain; +Here's a Husband for Eighteen— Here's a Shape— Here's Bones +ratling in a Leathern Bag. <span class = "insetdir">(Turning Sir +<span class = "charname">Francis</span> about.)</span> +Here's Buckram, and Canvass, to scrub you to Repentance.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Sirrah, my Cane shall teach you Repentance +presently.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> No faith, I have felt its Twin-Brother from just such a +wither'd Hand too lately.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> One thing more, advise him to keep from the Garden Gate +on the left Hand; for if he dares to saunter there, about the Hour of +Eight, as he used to do, he shall be saluted with a Pistol or a +Blunderbuss.</p> + +<p><i>Sir Fran.</i> Oh monstrous! why <i>Chargee</i>; did he use to come +to the Garden Gate?</p> + +<p><ins class = "correction" title = +"text reads 'Marpl.'"><i>Miran.</i></ins> The Gardner describ'd just +such another Man that always watch'd his coming out, and fain wou'd +have bribed him for his Entrance—tell him he shall find a warm +Reception if he comes this Night.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pistols and Blunderbusses! Egad, a warm Reception +indeed; I shall take care to inform him of your Kindness, and advise him +to keep farther off.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I hope he will understand my Meaning better, than to +follow your Advice.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Thou hast sign'd, seal'd, and ta'en Possession of my +Heart; for ever, <i>Chargee</i>, Ha, ha, ha; and for you, Mr. Sauce-box, +let me have no more of your Messages, if ever you design to inherit your +Estate, Gentleman.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why there 'tis now. Sure I shall be out of your +Clutches one Day.— Well, <i>Guardian</i>, I say no more; but if +you be not as errant a Cuckold, as e're drove Bargain upon +<span class = "pagenum">39</span> +the Exchange, or paid Attendance to a Court; I am the Son of a +Whetstone; and so your humble Servant.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Don't forget the Message; Ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> I am so provok'd!—'tis well he's gone.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh mind him not, <i>Gardee</i>, but let's sign +Articles, and then—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> And then— Adod, I believe I am Metamorphos'd; +my Pulse beats high, and my Blood boils, methinks—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Kissing and Hugging her.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh fye, <i>Gardee</i>, be not so violent; Consider the +Market lasts all the Year— Well, I'll in and see if the Lawyer be +come, you'll follow.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ay, to the World's End, my Dear. Well, +<i>Franck</i>, thou art a lucky Fellow in thy old Age, to have such a +delicate Morsel, and Thirty Thousand Pound in love with thee; I shall be +the Envy of Batchelors, the Glory of Marry'd Men, and the Wonder of the +Town. Some Guardians wou'd be glad to compound for part of the Estate, +at dispatching an Heiress, but I engross the whole: <i>O! Mihi +præteritos referet si Jupiter Annos.</i></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actIII_4"> </a> +<div class = "scene"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> Changes to +a Tavern; discovers Sir <span class = "charname">George</span> and +<span class = "charname">Charles</span> with Wine before them, and +<span class = "charname">Whisper</span> waiting.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Nay, prithee don't be Grave, <i>Charles;</i> +Misfortunes will happen: Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort to have a +Companion in our Sufferings.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I am only apprehensive for <i>Isabinda</i>, her Father's +Humour is implacable; and how far his Jealousie may transport him to her +Undoing, shocks my Soul to think.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> But since you escap'd undiscover'd by him, his Rage +will quickly lash into a Calm, never fear it.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> But who knows what that unlucky Dog, <i>Marplot</i>, +told him; nor can I imagine what brought him thither; that Fellow is +ever doing Mischief; and yet, to give him his due, he never designs it. +This is some Blundering Adventure, +<span class = "pagenum">40</span> +wherein he thought to shew his Friendship, as he calls it: A Curse on +him.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Then you must forgive him; what said he?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Said! nay, I had more mind to cut his Throat, than hear +his Excuses.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Where is he?</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Sir, I saw him go into Sir <i>Francis Gripe</i>'s just +now.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh! then he is upon your Business, Sir <i>George</i>; a +thousand to one, but he makes some Mistake there too.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Impossible, without he huffs the Lady, and makes Love +to Sir <i>Francis</i>.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Drawer.</div> + +<p><i>Draw.</i> Mr. <i>Marplot</i> is below, Gentlemen, and desires to +know if he may have Leave to wait upon ye.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> How civil the Rogue is when he has done a fault!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ho! Desire him to walk up. Prithee, <i>Charles</i>, +throw off this Chagreen, and be good Company.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Nay, hang him, I'm not angry with him. <i>Whisper</i>, +fetch me Pen, Ink and Paper.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Yes, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Ex. <span class = +"charname">Whisp.</span></div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Do but mark his sheepish Look, Sir <i>George</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Dear <i>Charles,</i> don't o'erwhelm a +Man—already under insupportable Affliction. I'm sure I always +intend to serve my Friends; but if my malicious Stars deny the +Happiness, is the fault mine?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Never mind him, Mr. <i>Marplot</i>, he is eat up with +Spleen. But tell me, what says <i>Miranda?</i></p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Says—nay, we are all undone there too.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I told you so; nothing prospers that he undertakes.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why can I help her having chose your Father for Better +for Worse?</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> So: There's another of Fortune's Strokes; I suppose I +shall be Edg'd out of my Estate, with Twins every Year, let who will get +'em.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What is the Woman really Possest?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">41</span> +<span class = "folionum">G</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> Yes with the Spirit of Contradiction, she rail'd at you +most prodigiously.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> That's no ill Sign.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Whisper</span>, +with Pen, Ink and Paper.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> You'd say it was no good Sign, if you knew all.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Why, prithee?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Hark'e, Sir <i>George</i>, Let me warn you, pursue your +old Haunt no more, it may be dangerous.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Charles <i>sits down to write.</i></div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> My old Haunt, what d'you mean?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why in short then, since you will have it, +<i>Miranda</i> vows if you dare approach the Garden-Gate at Eight a +Clock, as you us'd, you shall be saluted with a Blunderbuss, Sir. These +were her Words; nay, she bid me tell you so too.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>George</i>, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, as I us'd to do! +There must be a Meaning in this. Is there such a Gate, +<i>Charles?</i></p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Yes, yes; it opens into the Park, I suppose her Ladyship +has made many a Scamper through it.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo</i>. It must be an Assignation then. Ha, my Heart springs +with Joy, 'tis a propitious Omen. My dear <i>Marplot</i>, let me embrace +thee, thou art my Friend, my better Angel—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> What do you mean, Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No matter what I mean. Here take a Bumper to the +Garden-Gate, ye dear Rogue, you.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> You have Reason to be transported, Sir <i>George</i>; I +have sav'd your Life.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo</i>. My Life! thou hast sav'd my Soul, Man. +<i>Charles</i>, if thou do'st not pledge this Health, may'st thou never +taste the Joys of Love.</p> + +<p><i>Char. Whisper</i>, be sure you take care how you deliver +this <span class = "insetdir">(gives him the Letter)</span> bring me the +Answer to my +Lodgings.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> I warrant you, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">42</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> Whither does that Letter go?— Now dare I not ask for +my Blood.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Now I'm for you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> To the Garden-Gate at the Hour of Eight, +<i>Charles</i>, along, Huzza!</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I begin to conceive you.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> That's more than I do, Egad—to the Garden-Gate, +Huzza, <span class = "insetdir">(Drinks.)</span> But I hope you design +to keep far enough off +on't, Sir <i>George</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, ay, never fear that; she shall see I despise her +Frowns, let her use her Blunderbuss against the next Fool, she shan't +reach me with the Smoak, I warrant her, Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ah, <i>Charles</i>, if you cou'd receive a +Disappointment thus <i>En Cavalier</i>, one shou'd have some comfort in +being beat for you.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> The Fool comprehends nothing.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Nor wou'd I have him; prithee take him along with +thee.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Enough: <i>Marplot</i>, you shall go home with me.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I'm glad I'm well with him however. Sir <i>George</i>, +yours. Egad, <i>Charles</i>, asking me to go home with him, gives me a +shrewd suspicion there's more in the Garden-Gate, than I comprehend. +Faith, I'll give him the drop, and away to <i>Guardians</i>, and find it +out.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I kiss both your Hands— And now for the +Garden-Gate.</p> +<div class = "verse"> +It's Beauty gives the Assignation there,<br> +And Love too powerful grows t' admit of Fear. +</div> + +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<div class = "scene">The End of the Third Act.</div> + + + + +<span class = "pagenum">43</span> +<span class = "folionum">G2</span> +<div class = "act"><a name = "actIV_1">ACT the Fourth.</a></div> + +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> +the Out-side of Sir <i>Jealous Traffick</i>'s House,<br> +<i>Patch</i> peeping out of Door.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = +"charname">Whisper</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i><br> +<span class = "secondletter">H</span>A, Mrs. <i>Patch</i>, this is a +lucky Minute, to find you so readily, my Master dies with +Impatience.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> My Lady imagin'd so, and by her Orders I have been +scouting this hour in search of you, to inform you that Sir +<i>Jealous</i> has invited some Friends to Supper with him to Night, +which gives an Opportunity to your Master to make use of his Ladder of +Ropes: The Closet Window shall be open, and <i>Isabinda</i> ready to +receive him; bid him come immediately.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Excellent, He'll not disappoint I warrant him: But +hold, I have a Letter here, which I'm to carry an Answer of: I can't +think what Language the Direction is.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Pho, 'tis no Language, but a Character which the Lovers +invented to avert Discovery: Ha, I hear my old Master coming down +Stairs, it is impossible you shou'd have an Answer; away, and bid him +come himself for that—begone we are ruined if you're seen, for he +has doubl'd his Care since the last Accident.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> I go, I go.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">[Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> There, go thou into my Pocket. <span class = +"insetdir">[Puts it besides, and +it falls down.]</span> Now I'll up the back Stairs, lest I meet him. +Well, a dexterous Chamber-maid is the Ladies best Utensil, I say.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">[Exit.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span> with a Letter in his Hand.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> So, this is some Comfort, this tells me that +<i>Seignior Don Diego Babinetto</i> is safely arriv'd, he shall marry my +Daughter the Minute he comes, ha. What's here <span class = +"insetdir">[takes up the Letter +<span class = "charname">Patch</span> drop'd]</span> a Letter! I don't +know what to +<span class = "pagenum">44</span> +make of the Superscription. I'll see what's within side, +<span class = "insetdir">[opens +it]</span> humph; 'tis <i>Hebrew</i> I think. What can this mean. There +must be some trick in it; this was certainly design'd for my Daughter, +but I don't know that she can speak any Language but her Mother-Tongue. +No matter for that, this may be one of Love's Hieroglyphicks, and I +fancy I saw <i>Patch</i>'s Tail sweep by. That Wench may be a Slut, and +instead of guarding my Honour, betray it; I'll find it out I'm resolv'd; +who's there? What Answer did you bring from the Gentlemen I sent you to +invite?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> That they'd all wait of you, Sir, as I told you before, +but I suppose you forget, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Did I so, Sir, but I shan't forget to break your +Head, if any of 'em come, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Come, Sir, why did not you send me to desire their +Company, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> But I send you now to desire their Absence; say I +have something extraordinary fallen out, which calls me abroad, contrary +to Expectation, and ask their Pardon, and d'ye hear, send the Butler to +me.</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Yes, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">[<i>Exit.</i></div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Butler</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> If this Paper has a Meaning I'll find it. Lay the +Cloath in my Daughter's Chamber, and bid the Cook send Supper thither +presently.</p> + +<p><i>Butl.</i> Yes, Sir,—hey day, what's the Matter now?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">[<i>Exit.</i></div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> He wants the Eyes of <i>Argus</i>, that has a young +handsome Daughter in this Town, but my Comfort is, I shall not be +troubl'd long with her. He that pretends to rule a Girl once in her +Teens, had better be at Sea in a Storm, and would be in less Danger.</p> + +<div class = "verse"> +For let him do, or Counsel all he can,<br> +She thinks and dreams of nothing else but Man.</div> + +<div class = "stagedir">[Exit.</div> + +<a name = "actIV_2"> </a> +<span class = "pagenum">45</span> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> +<i>Isabinda</i>'s Chamber, <i>Isabinda</i> and <i>Patch</i>.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Are you sure, no Body saw you speak to +<i>Whisper?</i></p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, very sure Madam, but I heard Sir <i>Jealous</i> +coming down Stairs, so I clap'd this Letter into my Pocket.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Feels for the Letter.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> A Letter! give it me quickly.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Bless me! what's become on't— I'm sure I put +it—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Searching still.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Is it possible, thou could'st be so Careless— Oh! +I'm undone for ever if it be lost.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I must have drop'd it upon the Stairs. But why are you +so much alarm'd, if the worst happens no body can read it, Madam, nor +find out whom it was design'd for.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> If it falls into my Father's Hands the very Figure of a +Letter will produce ill Consequences. Run and look for it upon the +Stairs this Moment.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Nay, I'm sure it can be no where else.— <span +class = "insetdir">(As +she's going out of the Door meets the Butler.)</span> How now, what do +you want?</p> + +<p><i>Butl.</i> My Master order'd me to lay the Cloth here for his +Supper.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Ruin'd past Redemption—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> You mistake sure; what shall we do?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I thought he expected Company to Night— Oh! poor +<i>Charles</i>— Oh! unfortunate <i>Isabinda</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Butl.</i> I thought so too Madam, but I suppose he has alter'd his +Mind.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Lays the Cloth, and Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> The Letter is the Cause; this heedless Action has undone +me: Fly and fasten the Closet-window, which will give <i>Charles</i> +notice to retire. Ha, my Father, oh! Confusion.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Hold, hold, <i>Patch</i>, whither are you going. +I'll have no body stir out of the Room till after Supper.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Sir, I was only going to reach your easie +Chair— Oh! wretched Accident!</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">46</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I'll have no body stir out of the Room. I don't want my +easie Chair.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What will be the event of this?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Hark ye Daughter, do you know this Hand?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> As I suspected— Hand do you call it, Sir? 'Tis +some School-boy's Scraul.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh! Invention, thou Chamber-maid's best Friend, assist +me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Are you sure you don't understand it?</p> + +<div class = "entrance">(Patch. Feels in her Bosom, and shakes her +Coats.)</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Do you understand it, Sir?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I wish I did.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Thank Heaven you do not. <span class = +"insetdir">(aside)</span> Then I know no +more of it than you do indeed, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have you done, Sir? Why the +Paper is mine, I drop'd it out of my Bosom.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Snatching it from him.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ha! yours, Mistress.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What does she mean by owning it.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, Sir, it is.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What is it? Speak.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Why, Sir, it is a Charm for the Tooth-ach— I have +worn it this seven Year, 'twas given me by an Angel for ought I know, +when I was raving with the Pain; for no body knew from whence he came, +nor whither he went, he charg'd me never to open it, lest some dire +Vengeance befal me, and Heaven knows what will be the Event. Oh! cruel +Misfortune that I should drop it, and you should open it— If you +had not open'd it—</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Excellent Wench.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Pox of your Charms, and Whims for me, if that be all +'tis well enough; there, there, burn it, and I warrant you no Vengeance +will follow.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> So, all's right again thus far.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I would not lose <i>Patch</i> for the World— I'll +take courage a little. <span class = "insetdir">(aside)</span> Is this +Usage for your Daughter, +Sir, must my Virtue and Conduct be suspected? For every Trifle, you +immure me like some dire Offender here, and deny me +<span class = "pagenum">47</span> +all Recreations which my Sex enjoy, and the Custom of the Country and +Modesty allow; yet not content with that you make my Confinement more +intolerable by your Mistrusts and Jealousies; wou'd I were dead, so I +were free from this.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Weeps.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> To morrow rids you of this tiresome +Load,—<i>Don Diego Babinetto</i> will be here, and then my Care +ends and his begins.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Is he come then! Oh how shall I avoid this hated +Marriage?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servants with Supper.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Come will you sit down?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I can't eat, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> No, I dare swear he has given her Supper enough. I wish +I cou'd get into the Closet—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Well, if you can't eat, then give me a Song whilst I +do.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I have such a Cold I can scarce speak, Sir, much less +sing. How shall I prevent <i>Charles</i> coming in.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I hope you have the Use of your Fingers, Madam. Play +a Tune upon your <i>Spinnet</i>, whilst your Woman sings me a Song.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I'm as much out of Tune as my Lady, if he knew all.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I shall make excellent Musick.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sits down to play.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Really, Sir, I'm so frighted about your opening this +Charm, that I can't remember one Song.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Pish, hang your Charm; come, come, sing any +thing.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, I'm likely to sing truly <span class = +"insetdir">(aside)</span> humph, +humph, bless me, Sir, I cannot raise my Voice, my Heart pants so.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Why, what does your Heart pant so that you can't +play neither? Pray what Key are you in, ha?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ah, wou'd the Key was turn'd of you once.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Why don't you sing, I say!</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> When Madam has put her <i>Spinnet</i> in Tune, Sir, +humph, humph.—</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">48</span> +<i>Isab.</i> I cannot play, Sir, whatever ails me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Rising.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Zounds sit down, and play me a Tune, or I'll break +the <i>Spinnet</i> about your Ears.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What will become of me?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sits down and plays.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Come, Mistress.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(To <span class = "charname">Patch</span></div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sings, but horribly out of Tune.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Hey, hey, why you are a top of the House, and you +are down in the Cellar. What is the meaning of this? Is it on purpose to +cross me, ha?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Pray Madam, take it a little lower, I cannot reach that +Note—nor any Note I fear.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Well, begin— Oh! <i>Patch</i> we shall be +discover'd.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I sink with the Apprehension, Madam,—humph, +humph—</p> +<div class = "stagedir"><span class = "stagedir">(Sings)</span>(<span +class = "charname">Charles</span> pulls open the Closet Door.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Musick and Singing</p> +<div class = "verse"> +'Tis thus the bright Coelestial Court above,<br> +Beguiles the Hours with Musick and with Love. +</div> +<p>Death! her Father there, <span class = "insetdir">(The Women +shriek)</span> then I must +fly—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit into the Closet)</div> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sir <span class = "charname">Jealous</span> +rises up hastily, seeing <span class = "charname">Charles</span> slip +back into the Closet.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Hell and Furies, a Man in the Closet—</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ah! a Ghost, a Ghost—he must not enter the +Closet—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(<span class = "charname">Isabinda</span> throws +her self down before the Closet-door as in a <ins class = "correction" +title = "so in original: swound?">Sound</ins>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> The Devil! I'll make a Ghost of him I warrant +you.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Strives to get by.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh hold, Sir, have a care, you'l tread upon my +Lady— who waits there? Bring some Water: Oh! this comes of your +opening the Charm: Oh, oh, oh, oh.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Weeps aloud.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I'll Charm you, House-wife, here lies the Charm, +that conjur'd this Fellow in I'm sure on't, come out you Rascal, do so: +Zounds take her from the Door, or I'll spurn her from it, and break your +Neck down Stairs.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Oh, oh, where am I— He's gone, I heard him leap +down.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside to <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Nay, then let him enter—here, here Madam, smell +to this; come give me your Hand; come nearer to the Window, the Air will +do you good.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">49</span> +<span class = "folionum">H</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I wou'd she were in her Grave. Where are you, Sirrah, +Villain, Robber of my Honour; I'll pull you out of your Nest.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Goes into the Closet.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> You'l be mistaken, old Gentleman, the Bird is +flown.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I'm glad I have 'scap'd so well. I was almost dead in +earnest with the Fright.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Re-enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span> out of the Closet.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Whoever the Dog were he has escap'd out of the +Window, for the Sash is up. But tho' he is got out of my Reach, you are +not: And first Mrs. <i>Pandor</i>, with your Charms for Tooth-ach, get +out of my House, go, troop; yet hold, stay, I'll see you out of my Doors +my self, but I'll secure your Charge e'er I go.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> What do you mean, Sir? Was she not a Creature of your +own providing?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> She was of the Devil's providing for ought I +know.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> What have I done, Sir to merit your Displeasure?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I don't know which of you have done it; but you +shall both suffer for it, till I can discover whose Guilt it is: Go get +in there, I'll move you from this side of the House +<span class = "insetdir">(Pushes <span class = +"charname">Isabinda</span> +in at the other Door, and locks it; +puts the Key in his Pocket.)</span> I'll keep the Key my self: I'll try +what Ghost will get into that Room. And now forsooth I'll wait on you +down Stairs.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ah, my poor Lady— Down Stairs, Sir, but I won't +go out, Sir, till I have look'd up my Cloaths.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou +should'st not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your +Mistress is marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that +belongs to you; but till then—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit, pulling her out.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Re-enter at the lower Door.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> There, go, and, come no more within sight of my +Habitation, these three Days, I charge you.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Slaps the Door after her.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">50</span> +<i>Patch.</i> Did ever any Body see such an old Monster!</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Oh! Mr. <i>Charles</i> your Affairs and mine are in an +ill Posture.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I am immur'd to the Frowns of Fortune: But what has +befal'n thee?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Sir <i>Jealous</i>, whose suspicious Nature's always on +the Watch; nay, even whilst one Eye sleeps, the other keeps Sentinel: +Upon sight of you, flew into such a violent Passion, that I cou'd find +no Stratagem to appease him, but in spight of all Arguments, lock'd his +Daughter into his own Apartment, and turn'd me out of Doors.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Ha! oh, <i>Isabinda</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> And swears she shall neither see Sun nor Moon, till she +is <i>Don Diego Babinetto</i>'s Wife, who arrived last Night, and is +expected with impatience.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> He dies, yes, by all the Wrongs of Love he shall; here +will I plant my self, and thro' my Breast he shall make his Passage, if +he enters.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> A most heroick Resolution. There might be ways found +out more to your Advantage. Policy is often preferr'd to open force.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I apprehend you not.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> What think you of personating this <i>Spaniard</i>, +imposing upon the Father, and marrying your Mistress by his own +Consent.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Say'st thou so my Angel! Oh cou'd that be done, my Life +to come wou'd be too short to recompence thee: But how can I do that, +when I neither know what Ship he came in, nor from what part of +<i>Spain</i>; who recommends him, nor how attended.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> I can solve all this. He is from <i>Madrid</i>, his +Father's Name <i>Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto</i>. Here's a +Letter of his to Sir <i>Jealous</i>, which he drop'd one Day; you +understand <i>Spanish</i>, and the Hand may be counterfeited: You +conceive me, Sir.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">51</span> +<span class = "folionum">H2</span> +<i>Char.</i> My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll +about it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exeunt.</div> + +<a name = "actIV_3"> </a> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> a +Garden Gate open, <i>Scentwell</i> waiting within.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">George +Airy</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If +there shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my +Fall make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be +roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Hist, hist, Sir <i>George Airy</i>—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Enters.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, +give me your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Passage and dirty Step +before you arrive—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore +be quick my charming Guide.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my +Desires.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exeunt.</div> + + +<a name = "actIV_4"> </a> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> the +House.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = +"charname">Miranda</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now +don't I transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice +of the Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have +marry'd me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir +<i>George</i> is what I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his +Character, am satisfied in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a +hundred Pound only to have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So +I find my liking him has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; +and now the only Doubt remains whether he will come or no.</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">52</span> +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">Exit <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose +Idea fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams!</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> What beginning again in Heroicks!— Sir +<i>George</i>, don't you remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal +Oration produced, not one bare single Word in answer.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha! the Voice of my <i>Incognita</i>— Why did +you take Ten Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had +vanquish'd?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but +short, and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that +same terrible Bugbear, <i>Matrimony</i>, without heartily Repenting on +both sides.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes +beheld ye.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had +Thirty Thousand Pound.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd +Minutes to run the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that +lovely Person to my Arms.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our +Woing has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the +World see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the +envy'd Pair—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to +venture on dangerous Experiments headlong— My <i>Guardian</i>, +trusting to my dissembled Love, has given up my Fortune to my own +dispose; but with this <i>Proviso</i>, that he to Morrow morning weds +me. He is now gone to <i>Doctors Commons</i> for a License.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha, a License!</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him +down to <i>Epsom</i>, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of +<span class = "pagenum">53</span> +his, is to make him his Executor; the thing on Earth he covets.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> 'Tis his known Character.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and +he sends me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can +be undeceiv'd. That time is ours.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Let us improve it then, and settle on our coming +Years, endless, endless Happiness.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I dare not stir till I hear he's on the Road—then +I and my Writings, the most material point, are soon removed.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I have one Favour to ask, if it lies in your power, +you wou'd be a Friend to poor <i>Charles</i>, tho' the Son of this +tenacious Man: He is as free from all his Vices, as Nature and a good +Education can make him; and what now I have vanity enough to hope will +induce you, he is the Man on Earth I love.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I never was his Enemy, and only put it on as it help'd +my Designs on his Father. If his Uncle's Estate ought to be in his +Possession, which I shrewdly suspect, I may do him a singular piece of +Service.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> You are all Goodness.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. <i>Marplot</i> are just +coming into the House.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Undone, undone! if he finds you here in this Crisis, +all my Plots are unravell'd.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> What shall I do! can't I get back into the +Garden?</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Oh, no! he comes up those Stairs.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Here, here, here! can you condescend to stand behind +this Chimney-Board, Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Any where, any where, dear Madam, without +Ceremony.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Come, come, Sir; lie close—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(They put him behind the Chimney-Board.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">54</span></p> +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span> +and <span class = "charname"><ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads 'Marplott'">Marplot</ins></span>: +Sir <span class = "charname">Francis</span> peeling an Orange.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> I cou'd not go, tho' 'tis upon Life and Death, +without taking leave of dear <i>Chargee</i>. Besides, this Fellow buz'd +in my Ears, that thou might'st be so desperate to shoot that wild Rake +which haunts the Garden-Gate; and that wou'd bring us into Trouble, +dear—</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> So, <i>Marplot</i> brought you back then: I am oblig'd +to him for that, I'm sure—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Frowning at <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span> aside.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> By her Looks she means she is not oblig'd to me. I have +done some Mischief now, but what I can't imagine.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, <i>Chargee</i>, I have had three Messengers to +come to <i>Epsom</i> to my Neighbour <i>Squeezum</i>'s who, for all his +vast Riches, is departing.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Sighs.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ay, see what all you Usurers must come to.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Peace, ye young Knave! Some Forty Years hence I may +think on't— But, <i>Chargee</i>, I'll be with thee to Morrow, +before those pretty Eyes are open; I will, I will, <i>Chargee</i>, I'll +rouze you, I saith.— Here Mrs. <i>Scentwell</i>, lift up your +Lady's Chimney-Board, that I may throw my Peel in, and not litter her +Chamber.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh my Stars! what will become of us now?</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Oh, pray Sir, give it me; I love it above all things +in Nature, indeed I do.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> No, no, Hussy; you have the Green Pip already, I'll +have no more Apothecary's Bills.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Goes towards the Chimney.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Hold, hold, hold, dear <i>Gardee</i>, I have a, a, a, +a, a Monkey shut up there; and if you open it before the Man comes that +is to tame it, 'tis so wild 'twill break all my China, or get away, and +that wou'd break my Heart; for I am fond on't to Distraction, next thee, +dear <i>Gardee</i>.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(In a flattering Tone.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, well, <i>Chargee</i>, I wont open it; she +shall have her Monkey, poor Rogue; here throw this Peel out of the +Window.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">(Exit <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> A Monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame +<span class = "pagenum">55</span> +a Monkey as well as the best of them all. Oh how I love the little +Minatures of Man.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Be quiet, Mischief, and stand farther from the +Chimney— You shall not see my Monkey—why sure—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Striving with him.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, let me but peep, to see +if it be as pretty as my Lady <i>Fiddle-Faddle</i>'s. Has it got a +Chain?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Not yet, but I design it one shall last its Life-time: +Nay, you shall not see it— Look, <i>Gardee</i>, how he teazes +me!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Getting between him and +the Chimney.)</span> +Sirrah, Sirrah, let my <i>Chargee</i>'s Monkey alone, or <i>Bambo</i> +shall fly about your Ears. What is there no dealing with you?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pugh, pox of the Monkey! here's a Rout: I wish he may +Rival you.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter a Servant.</div> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Sir, they put two more Horses in the Coach, as you +order'd, and 'tis ready at the Door.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Well, I'm going to be Executor, better for thee, +Jewel. B'ye <i>Chargee</i>, one Buss!— I'm glad thou hast got a a +Monkey to divert thee a little.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Thank'e, dear <i>Gardee</i>.— Nay, I'll see you +to the Coach.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> That's kind, adod.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Come along, Impertinence.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(To <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Stepping back.)</span> +Egad, I will see the Monkey: Now <span class = "insetdir">(Lifts up the +Board, and discovers +Sir <span class = "charname">George</span>.)</span> Oh Lord, Oh Lord! +Thieves, Thieves, Murder!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Dam'e, you unlucky Dog! 'tis I, which way shall I get +out, shew me instantly, or I'll cut your Throat.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Undone, undone! At that Door there. But hold, hold, +break that China, and I'll bring you off.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(He runs off at the Corner, and throws down some +China.</div> + +<div class = "entrance">Re-enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span>, <span class = "charname">Miranda</span>, and +<span class = "charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Mercy on me! what's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Oh, you Toad! what have you done?</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">56</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> No great harm, I beg of you to forgive me: Longing to see +the Monkey, I did but just raise up the Board, and it flew over my +Shoulders, scratch'd all my Face, broke yon' China, and whisk'd out of +the Window.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Was ever such an unlucky Rogue! Sirrah, I forbid you +my House. Call the Servants to get the Monkey again; I wou'd stay my +self to look it, but that you know my earnest Business.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Oh my Lady will be the best to lure it back; all them +Creatures love my Lady extremely.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Go, go, dear <i>Gardee</i>; I hope I shall recover +it.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! +B'ye, b'ye.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Miran. Scentwell</i>, see him in the Coach, and bring me word.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Yes, Madam.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of +Service, I suppose.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank +your self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor +none more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when +you talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you +talk'd of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir <i>George?</i></p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> A sign you converse but little with our Sex, when you +can't reconcile Contradictions.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can +carry him.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">George</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Then I may appear.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Dear, Sir <i>George</i>, make my Peace! On my Soul, I +did not think of you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to +forgive him.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Well, Sir <i>George</i>, if he can be secret.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">57</span> +<span class = "folionum">I</span> +<i>Marpl.</i> Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm +trusted.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at +present.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Madam, here's Mrs. <i>Isabinda</i>'s Woman to wait on +you.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Bring her up.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>.</div> + +<p>How do'e, Mrs. <i>Patch</i>, what News from your Lady?</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir <i>George</i>, +there's a Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your +Assistance.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> His Name.</p> + +<p><i>Patch. Charles.</i></p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing +of. I'll wait on you, Sir <i>George</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as +I have dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my +Servant to tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. +<i>Patch?</i></p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, +but hope to serve my Lady still.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story +within.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> With all my Heart, Madam.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pish! Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I +find Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know +what <i>Charles</i> wants him for.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friendship: +This Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make <i>Marplot</i> of the +Party?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> If you'll run the Hazard, Sir <i>George</i>; I believe +he means well.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: +I'll begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Going.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> So now has he a mind to be gone to <i>Charles</i>: +but not knowing what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at +<span class = "pagenum">58</span> +present, I'm resolv'd he sha'n't stir: No, Mr. <i>Marplot</i>, you must +not leave us, we want a third Person.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Takes hold of him.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I never had more mind to be gone in my Life.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your +self for taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board.</p> + +<p><i>Sir</i> Geo.</p> +<div class = "verse"> +That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,<br> +Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love. +</div> + +<div class = "sceneplain">The End of the Fourth ACT.</div> + + + +<div class = "act"><a name = "actV_1">ACT the Fifth.</a></div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = "charname">Miranda</span>, +<span class = "charname">Patch</span>, and <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i><br> +<span class = "secondletter">W</span>ELL, <i>Patch</i>, I have done a +strange bold thing! my Fate is determin'd, and Expectation is no more. +Now to avoid the Impertinence and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown +my self into the Extravagance of a young one; if he shou'd despise, +slight or use me ill, there's no Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; +and that's a terrible Sanctuary to one of my Age and Constitution.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir +<i>George Airy</i>; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman +ill, indued with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, +if she does not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing +but Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make +them happy.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident +shou'd bring my <i>Guardian</i> back. <i>Scentwell</i>, put my best +Jewels into the little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us +march off to Sir. <i>Jealous</i>'s.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> It shall be done, Madam.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit <span class = +"charname">Scentwell</span>.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">59</span> +<span class = "folionum">I2</span> +<i>Patch.</i> Sir <i>George</i> will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot +succeeds, we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect +us. Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Farewell, old <i>Mammon</i>, and thy detested Walls; +'twill be no more sweet Sir <i>Francis</i>, I shall be compell'd to the +odious Task of Dissembling no longer to get my own, and coax him with +the wheedling Names of my <i>Precious</i>, my <i>Dear</i>, dear +<i>Gardee</i>. Oh Heavens!</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span> behind.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ah, my sweet <i>Chargee</i>, don't be frighted. +<span class = "insetdir">(She starts.)</span> But thy poor <i>Gardee</i> +has been abused, +cheated, fool'd, betray'd, but no Body knows by whom.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> Undone! past +Redemption.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What won't you speak to me, <i>Chargee!</i></p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> I'm so surpriz'd with Joy to see you, I know not what +to say.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Poor, dear Girl! But do'e know that my Son, or some +such Rogue, to rob or murder me, or both, contriv'd this Journey? For +upon the Road I met my Neighbour <i>Squeezum</i> well, and coming to +Town.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Good lack, good lack! what Tricks are there in this +World!</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Scentwell</span>, +with a Diamond Necklace in her Hand; not seeing Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Madam, be pleas'd to tye this Neck-lace on; for I +can't get it into the—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Seeing Sir <span class = +"charname">Francis</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou'd you not have +carry'd it to be mended, without putting it in the Box?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What's the matter?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Only Dear'e, I bid her, I bid her— Your ill Usage +has put every thing out of my Head. But won't you go, <i>Gardee</i>, and +find out these Fellows, and have them punish'd! and, and—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Where shou'd I look them, Child? No I'll sit me down +contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with +thee to a Parson.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">60</span> +<i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> If he goes into +his Closet I am ruin'd. +Oh! bless me in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. <i>Patch</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> I must get him +out of the House. Now +assist me Fortune.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Mrs. <i>Patch</i>, I profess I did not see you, how +dost thou do, Mrs. <i>Patch</i>; well don't you repent leaving my +<i>Chargee?</i></p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Yes, every body must love her—but I came +now— Madam, what did I come for, my Invention is at the last +Ebb.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside to <span class = +"charname">Miranda</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Nay, never Whisper, tell me.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> She came, dear <i>Gardee</i> to invite me to her Lady's +Wedding, and you shall go with me <i>Gardee</i>, 'tis to be done this +Moment to a <i>Spanish</i> Merchant; Old Sir <i>Jealous</i> keeps on his +Humour, the first Minute he sees her, the next he marries her.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought the sight of +Matrimony wou'd tempt <i>Chargee</i> to perform her Promise: There was a +smile, there was a consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a +Million. Ods precious, I am happier than the Great <i>Mogul</i>, the +Emperour of <i>China</i>, or all the Potentates that are not in Wars. +Speak, confirm it, make me leap out of my Skin.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> When one has resolv'd, 'tis in vain to stand shall I, +shall I, if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Oh! happy, happy Man— Verily I will beget a +Son, the first Night shall disinherit that Dog, <i>Charles</i>. I have +Estate enough to purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole +Family of the Gripes.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Come then <i>Gardee</i>, give me thy Hand, let's to +this House of <i>Hymen</i>.</p> +<div class = "verse"> +My Choice is fix'd, let good or ill betide,</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i></p> +<div class = "verse"> +The joyful Bridegroom, I</div> + +<p><i>Miran.</i></p> +<div class = "verse"> +And I the happy Bride.</div> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exeunt.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">61</span></p> +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span> meeting a Servant.</div> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Sir, here's a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one +of 'em calls himself <i>Seignor Diego Babinetto</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ha! <i>Seignor Babinetto!</i> Admit 'em +instantly— Joyful Minute; I'll have my Daughter marry'd to +Night.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Charles</span> in +<span class = "charname">Spanish</span> Habit, with Sir <span class = +"charname">George</span> drest like a Merchant.</div> + +<p><i>Sir </i>Jeal.<i> Senior, beso Las Manos vuestra merced es muy +bien venido en esta tierra.</i></p> + +<p>Char. <i>Senhor, soy muy humilde, y muy obligado Cryado de vuestra +merced: Mi Padre Embia a vuestra merced, los mas profondos de sus +respetos; y a Commissionado este Mercadel Ingles, de concluyr un +negocio, que me Haze el mas dichoso hombre del mundo, Haziendo me su +yerno.</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I am glad on't, for I find I have lost much of my +<i>Spanish</i>. Sir, I am your most humble Servant. <i>Seignor Don Diego +Babinetto</i> has inform'd me that you are Commission'd by <i>Seignor +Don Pedro</i>, &c. his worthy Father.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> To see an Affair of Marriage Consummated between a +Daughter of yours, and <i>Seignor Diego Babinetto</i> his Son here. +True, Sir, such a Trust is repos'd in me as that Letter will inform you. +I hope 'twill pass upon him. <span class = +"insetdir">(Aside.)</span></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Gives him a Letter.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ay, 'tis his Hand.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Seems to read.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Good —— you have counterfeited to a +Nicety, <i>Charles.</i></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside to <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> If the whole Plot succeeds as well, I'm happy.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Sir I find by this, that you are a Man of Honour and +Probity; I think, Sir, he calls you <i>Meanwell</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo. Meanwell</i> is my Name, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> A very good Name, and very Significant.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Yes, Faith if he knew all.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> For to Mean-well is to be honest, and to be honest +is the Virtue of a Friend, and a Friend is the Delight and Support of +Human Society.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> You shall find that I'll Discharge the part of a +Friend in what I have undertaken, Sir <i>Jealous</i>.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">62</span> +<i>Char.</i> But little does he think to whom.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Therefore, Sir, I must intreat the Presence of your +fair Daughter, and the Assistance of your Chaplain; for <i>Seignor Don +Pedro</i> strictly enjoyn'd me to see the Marriage Rites perform'd as +soon as we should arrive, to avoid the Accidental Overtures of +<i>Venus</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Overtures of <i>Venus!</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, Sir, that is, those little Hawking Females that +traverse the Park, and the Play-house to put off their damag'd +Ware—they fasten upon Foreigners like Leeches, and watch their +Arrival as carefully, as the <i>Kentish</i> Men do a Ship-wreck. I +warrant you they have heard of him already.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Nay, I know this Town swarms with them.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, and then you know the <i>Spaniards</i> are +naturally Amorous, but very Constant, the first Face fixes 'em, and it +may be dangerous to let him ramble e'er he is tied.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Well hinted.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Pat to my Purpose— Well, Sir, there is but one +thing more, and they shall be married instantly.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Pray Heaven, that one thing more don't spoil all.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal. Don Pedro</i> writ me Word in his last but one, +that he design'd the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for +my Daughter; and that it shou'd be paid into my Hand upon the Day of +Marriage.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh! the Devil.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case +she should become a Widow, and return for <i>England</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Pox on't, this is an unlucky Turn. What shall I +say?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> And he does not mention one Word of it in this +Letter.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I don't know how he should.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Humph! True, Sir <i>Jealous</i>, he told me such a +Thing, but, but, but, but—he, he, he, he—he did not imagine +that you would insist upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you +know is dangerous returning by Sea, an, an, an, an—</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">63</span> +<i>Char.</i> Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside to Sir <span class = +"charname">George</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, +<i>Tobacco, Sugars, Spices, Limons</i>, and so +forth, which shall be turn'd into Money with all Expedition: In the mean +time, Sir, if you please to accept of my Bond for Performance.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas'd with the +Countenance of <i>Seignor Diego</i>, and the Harmony of your Name, that +I'll take your Word, and will fetch my Daughter this Moment. Within +there <span class = "insetdir">(Enter Servant)</span> desire Mr. +<i>Tackum</i> my Neighbour's +Chaplain to walk hither.</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Yes, Sir.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Gentlemen, I'll return in an Instant.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Wondrous well. Let me embrace thee.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Egad that 5000 <i>l.</i> had like to have ruin'd the +Plot.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> But that's over! And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in +our way.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Thou'lt carry the Prize—but hist, here he +comes.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>, dragging in <span class = +"charname">Isabinda</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come +along.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i></p> +<div class = "verse"> +Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word,<br> +Do not destroy my everlasting Peace;<br> +My Soul abhors this <i>Spaniard</i> you have chose<br> +Nor can I wed him without being curst. +</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> How's that!</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i></p> +<div class = "verse"> +Let this Posture move your tender Nature. <span class = +"insetdir">(Kneels.</span><br> +For ever will I hang upon these Knees;<br> +Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold,<br> +If you refuse to hear me, Sir. +</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh! that I cou'd discover my self to her.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Have a care what you do. You had better trust to his +Obstinacy.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Did you ever see such a perverse Slut: Off I say Mr. +<i>Meanwell</i> pray help me a little.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">64</span> +Sir <i>Geo.</i> Rise, Madam, and do not disoblige your Father, who has +provided a Husband worthy of you, one that will Love you equal with his +Soul, and one that you will Love, when once you know him.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Oh! never, never. Cou'd I suspect that Falshood in my +Heart, I wou'd this Moment tear it from my Breast, and streight present +him with the Treacherous Part.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh! my charming faithful Dear.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Falshood! why, who the Devil are you in Love with? +Ha! Don't provoke me, for by St. <i>Jago</i> I shall beat you, +Housewife.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Heaven forbid; for I shall infallibly discover my self +if he should.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Have Patience, Madam! and look at him: Why will you +prepossess your self against a Man that is Master of all the Charms you +would desire in a Husband?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ay, look at him, <i>Isabinda, Senior pase +vind adelante.</i></p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> My Heart bleeds to see her grieve, whom I imagin'd would +with Joy receive me. <i>Seniora obligue me vuestra merced de +sumano.</i></p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> <span class = "insetdir">(Pulling up her +Head.)</span> Hold up your Head, +hold up your Head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a properer, +handsomer, better shap'd Fellow in <i>England</i>, ye Jade you. Ha! see, +see the obstinate Baggage shuts her Eyes; by St. <i>Jago</i>, I have a +good Mind to beat 'em out.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Pushes her down.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i></p> +<div class = "verse"> +Do then, Sir, kill me, kill me instantly.<br> +'Tis much the kinder Action of the Two,<br> +For 'twill be worse than Death to wed him. +</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Sir <i>Jealous</i>, you are too passionate. Give me +leave, I'll try by gentle Words to work her to your Purpose.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I pray do, Mr. <i>Meanwell</i>, I pray do; she'll +break my Heart. <span class = "insetdir">(weeps)</span> There is in +that, Jewels of the Value of +3000 <i>l.</i> which were her Mother's; and a Paper wherein I have +settled one half of my Estate upon her now, and the whole when I dye. +But provided she marries this Gentleman, else by St. <i>Jago</i>, I'll +turn her out of Doors to beg or starve. Tell her this, Mr. +<i>Meanwell</i>, pray do.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Walks off.</div> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">65</span> +<span class = "folionum">K</span> +Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha! this is beyond Expectation— Trust to me, Sir, +I'll lay the dangerous Consequence of disobeying you at this Juncture +before her, I warrant you.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> A sudden Joy runs thro' my Heart like a propitious +Omen.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Come, Madam, do not blindly cast your Life away just +in the Moment you would wish to have it.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Pray cease your Trouble, Sir, I have no Wish but sudden +Death to free me from this hated <i>Spaniard</i>. If you are his Friend +inform him what I say; my Heart is given to another Youth, whom I love +with the same strength of Passion that I hate this <i>Diego</i>; with +whom, if I am forc'd to wed, my own Hand shall cut the Gordian Knot.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Suppose this <i>Spaniard</i> which you strive to shun +should be the very Man to whom you'd flye?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Ha!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Would you not blame your rash Result, and curse those +Eyes that would not look on <i>Charles</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> On <i>Charles!</i> Oh you have inspir'd new Life, and +collected every wandring Sense. Where is he? Oh! let me flye into his +Arms.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Rises.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Hold, hold, hold, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll ruin all, +your Father believes him to be <i>Seignor Barbinetto</i>. Compose your +self a little, pray Madam.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(He runs to Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Her Eyes declare she knows me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Aside.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> She begins to hear Reason, Sir, the fear of being +turn'd out of Doors has done it.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Runs back to <span class = +"charname">Isabinda</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> 'Tis he, oh! my ravish'd Soul.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Take heed, Madam, you don't betray your self. Seem +with Reluctance to consent, or you are undone, <span class = +"insetdir">(runs to Sir <span class = "charname">Jealous</span>,)</span> +speak gently to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll yield, I see it in her +Face.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Well, <i>Isabinda</i>, can you refuse to bless a +Father, whose only Care is to make you happy, as Mr. <i>Meanwell</i> has +inform'd you. Come, wipe thy Eyes; nay, prithee do, or thou wilt break +thy Father's Heart; see thou bring'st the +<span class = "pagenum">66</span> +Tears in mine to think of thy undutiful Carriage to me.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Weeps.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Oh! do not weep, Sir, your Tears are like a Ponyard to +my Soul; do with me what you please, I am all Obedience.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ha! then thou art my Child agen.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> 'Tis done, and now Friend the Day's thy own.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> The happiest of my Life, if nothing Intervene.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> And wilt thou love him?</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> I will endeavour it, Sir.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servant.</div> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Sir, Here is Mr. <i>Tackum</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Show him into the Parlour—<i>Senior tome vind +sueipora; cete Momenta les Junta les Manos.</i></p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Gives her to <span class = +"charname">Charles</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Oh! transport—<i>Senior yo la recibo Como se deve +un Tesoro tan Grande.</i> Oh! my Joy, my Life, my Soul.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Embrace.</div> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> My Faithful everlasting Comfort.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Now, Mr. <i>Meanwell</i> let's to the Parson,</p> +<div class = "verse"> +Who, by his Art will join this Pair for Life,<br> +Make me the happiest Father, her the happiest Wife. +</div> + +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + + +<a name = "actV_2"> </a> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> +Changes to the Street before Sir <i>Jealous</i>'s Door.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = "charname">Marplot</span>, +Solus.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> I have hunted all over the Town for <i>Charles</i>, but +can't find him; and by <i>Whisper</i>'s scouting at the End of the +Street, I suspect he must be in this House again. I'm inform'd too that +he has borrow'd a <i>Spanish</i> Habit out of the <i>Play-house</i>. +What can it mean?</p> + +<span class = "pagenum">67</span> +<span class = "folionum">K2</span> +<div class = "entrance">Enter a Servant of Sir <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>'s to him, out of the House.</div> + +<p>Hark'e, Sir, do you belong to this House? </p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Yes, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in +<i>Spanish</i> Habit?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> There is a <i>Spanish</i> Gentleman within, that is just +a going to marry my young Lady, Sir.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Are you sure he is a <i>Spanish</i> Gentleman?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> I'm sure he speaks no <i>English</i>, that I hear +of.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an +<i>English</i> Gentleman, tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a +<i>Spaniard</i>, that I enquire after.</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform +my Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. +<span class = "insetdir">(Aside.)</span> Pray, come in, Sir, and see if +this be the Person you +enquire for.</p> + + +<a name = "actV_3"> </a> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">SCENE</span> Changes +to <ins class = "correction" title = "so in original">the Inside the +House</ins>.</div> + +<div class = "scenedesc">Enter <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be +<i>Charles</i>, now will he wonder how I found him out.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servant and <span class = +"charname">Jealous</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you +must speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in +<i>Spanish</i> Habit, he says.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> In <i>Spanish</i> Habit! 'tis some Friend of +Seignior <i>Don Diego</i>'s, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak +with Seignior <i>Barbinetto</i>—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!— Sir, I +don't understand you.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">68</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Don't you understand <i>Spanish</i>, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Not I indeed, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I thought you had known Seignior +<i>Barbinetto</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Not I, upon my word, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What then you'd speak with his Friend, the +<i>English</i> Merchant, Mr. <i>Meanwell</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Neither, Sir; not I.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want?</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(In an angry Tone.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I +were out, he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you +in my House? ha?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> You said you wanted a Gentleman in <i>Spanish</i> +Habit.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why ay, but his Name is neither <i>Barbinetto</i> nor +<i>Meanwell</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you +agen, I believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen +<i>Mirmidons</i>— Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, +or—</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> A terrible old Dog!— Why, Sir, only an honest +young Fellow of my Acquaintance— I thought that here might be a +Ball, and that he might have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis +<i>Charles</i>, Sir <i>Francis Gripe</i>'s Son, because I know he us'd +to come hither sometimes.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Did he so?— Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray +Heaven that this be Don <i>Diego</i>— If I shou'd be trick'd +now— Ha! my Heart misgives me plaguily—within there! stop +the Marriage— Run, Sirrah, call all my Servants! I'll be satisfy'd +that this is Seignior <i>Pedro</i>'s Son e're he has my Daughter.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Ha, Sir <i>George</i>, what have I done now ?</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">George</span> +with a drawn Sword between the Scenes.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha! <i>Marplot</i>, here— Oh the unlucky +Dog—what's the matter, Sir <i>Jealous?</i></p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">69</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr.<i>Meanwell</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Upon my Soul, Sir <i>George</i>—</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Going up to Sir <span class = +"charname">Geo.</span></div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, +Traytors, Rogues! <span class = "insetdir">(Offers to go in.)</span> +Stop the Marriage, I +say—</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> I say, go on Mr.<i>Tackum</i>— Nay, no Ent'ring +here, I guard this Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both +your own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die for't.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Servants.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> A pox on the Act and Deed!— Fall on, knock him +down.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for +you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Beats <span class = +"charname">Marplot</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your +Daughter.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Rascals! why don't you knock him down?</p> + +<p><i>Serv.</i> We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that +from him, we'll knock him down presently.</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter <span class = "charname">Charles</span> +and <span class = "charname">Isabinda</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Seize her then.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, +I'll make Dogs meat of you.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ah! downright <i>English</i>:— Oh, oh, oh, +oh!</p> + +<div class = "entrance">Enter Sir <span class = "charname">Francis +Gripe</span>, <span class = "charname"><ins class = "correction" +title = "so in original">Mirand</ins></span>, <span class = +"charname">Patch</span>, <span class = "charname">Scentwell</span>, +and <span class = "charname">Whisper</span>.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! +I think 'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir <i>Jealous</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Oh Sir <i>Francis!</i> are you come? What was this +your Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> My Contrivance! what do you mean?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> No, you don't know your Son there in <i>Spanish</i> +Habit.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">70</span> +Sir <i>Fran.</i> How! my Son in <i>Spanish</i> Habit. Sirrah, you'll +come to be hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; +let's see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny +of mine—and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir +<i>Jealous</i>. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: +But look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is +my Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of +her Body.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Lawfully begotten by me— I shall be extremely +oblig'd to you, Sir <i>Francis</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir <i>George!</i> You see your +Project was of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your +Stomach? Ha, ha, ha.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> No faith, Sir <i>Francis</i>, this Lady has given me +a Cordial for that.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Takes her by the Hand.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Wife, Sir!</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Ay really, <i>Guardian</i>, 'tis even so. I hope you'll +forgive my first Offence.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your +Writings then, Mistress, ha?</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> Out of nothing but my own, <i>Guardian</i>.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort at least to see you +are over-reach'd as well as my self. Will you settle your Estate upon +your Son now?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> He shall starve first.</p> + +<p><i>Miran.</i> That I have taken care to prevent. There, Sir, is the +Writings of your Uncle's <i>Estate</i>, which has been your due these +three Years.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Gives <span class = "charname">Char.</span> +Papers.</div> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I shall study to deserve this Favour.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> What have you robb'd me too, Mistress! Egad I'll +make you restore 'em.— Huswife, I will so.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">71</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Take care I don't make you pay the Arrears, Sir. 'Tis +well it's no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young Man, seeing thou +hast out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> I hope, Sir, you'll bestow your Blessing too, 'tis all +I'll ask.</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Kneels.</div> + +<p>Sir <i>Fran.</i> Confound you all!</p> +<div class = "stagedir">(Exit.</div> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Mercy upon us! how he looks!</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Ha, ha, ne'er mind his Curses, <i>Charles</i>; +thou'lt thrive not one jot the worse for 'em. Since this Gentleman is +reconcil'd, we are all made happy.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I always lov'd Precaution, and took care to avoid +Dangers. But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be +easie.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Which is the true sign of a great Soul: I lov'd your +Daughter, and she me, and you shall have no reason to repent her +Choice.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> You will not blame me, Sir, for loving my own Country +best.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> So here's every Body happy, I find, but poor +<i>Pilgarlick</i>. I wonder what Satisfaction I shall have, for being +cuff'd, kick'd, and beaten in your Service.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> I have been a little too familiar with you, as +things are fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive +me.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> Egad I think so— But provided that you be not so +familiar for the future.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> Thou hast been an unlucky Rogue.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> But very honest.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> That I'll vouch for; and freely forgive thee.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> And I'll do you one piece of Service more, +<i>Marplot</i>, I'll take care that Sir <i>Francis</i> make you Master +of your Estate.</p> + +<p><i>Marpl.</i> That will make me as happy as any of you.</p> + +<p><i>Patch.</i> Your humble Servant begs leave to remind you, +Madam.</p> + +<p><i>Isab.</i> Sir, I hope you'll give me leave to take <i>Patch</i> +into favour again.</p> + +<p><span class = "pagenum">72</span> +Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Nay, let your Husband look to that, I have done with my +Care.</p> + +<p><i>Char.</i> Her own Liberty shall always oblige me. Here's no Body +but honest <i>Whisper</i> and Mrs. <i>Scentwell</i> to be provided for +now. It shall be left to their Choice to Marry, or keep their +Services.</p> + +<p><i>Whisp.</i> Nay then, I'll stick to my Master.</p> + +<p><i>Scentw.</i> Coxcomb! and I prefer my Lady before a Footman.</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Hark, I hear Musick, the Fidlers smell a Wedding. +What say you, young Fellows, will ye have a Dance?</p> + +<p>Sir <i>Geo.</i> <ins class = "correction" +title = "text reads 'with'">With</ins> all my Heart; call'em in.</p> + +<br> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">A +DANCE.</span></div> +<br> + +<p>Sir <i>Jeal.</i> Now let us in and refresh our selves with a chearful +Glass, in which we'll bury all Animosities: And</p> +<div class = "verse"> +By my Example let all Parents move,<br> +And never strive to cross their Childrens Love;<br> +But still submit that Care to Providence above. +</div> + +<br> +<div class = "sceneplain"><span class = "sceneword">FINIS</span></div> + +<hr> + +<a name = "ARSpubs"> </a><br> +<h4><i>The Editors of</i> THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY</h4> +<p class = "editors">are pleased to announce that<br> +<br> +<span class = "smallcaps">THE WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK +MEMORIAL LIBRARY</span><br> +<br> +of The University of California, Los Angeles</p> + +<p>will become the publisher of the Augustan Reprints in May, 1949. The +editorial policy of the Society will continue unchanged. As in the past, +the editors will strive to furnish members inexpensive reprints of rare +seventeenth and eighteenth century works.</p> + +<!--PG hyperlinks begin here--> + +<div class = "mynote"> +Transcriber's Note:<br> +Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project +Gutenberg. Where possible, a link to the e-text is given. +</div> + +<p align = "center">Publications for the fourth year (1949-1950)</p> + +<table align = "center" summary = "list of planned publications"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<p class = "editors">(At least six items will be printed in the main +from the following list)<br> +</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width = "50%"><span class = "smallcaps">Series IV: Men, Manners, and +Critics</span><br> + John Dryden, +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/15074"><i>His Majesties +Declaration Defended</i></a> (1681)<br> + Daniel Defoe (?), +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14084"><i>Vindication of the +Press</i></a> +(1718)<br> + <i>Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and +Pamela</i> +(1754)<br> +</td> +<td><span class = "smallcaps">Series VI: Poetry and Language</span><br> + Andre Dacier, <i>Essay on Lyric Poetry</i><br> + <i>Poems</i> by Thomas Sprat<br> + <i>Poems</i> by the Earl of Dorset<br> + Samuel Johnson, +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/13350"><i>Vanity of Human +Wishes</i></a> (1749), and one of the 1750 <i>Rambler</i> papers.<br> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><span class = "smallcaps">Series V: Drama</span><br> + Thomas Southerne, <i>Oroonoko</i> (1696)<br> + Mrs. Centlivre, <i>The Busie Body </i>(1709)<br> + Charles Johnson, <i>Caelia</i> (1733)<br> + Charles Macklin, +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14463"><i>Man of the +World</i></a> +(1781)<br> +</td> +<td><span class = "smallcaps">Extra Series:</span><br> + <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/16346">Lewis +Theobald</a>, <ins class = "correction" title = +"correct form is 'Preface to Shakespeare'"><i>Preface to Shakespeare's +Works</i></ins> (1733)<br> +<p>A few copies of the early publications of the Society are still +available at the original rate.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr> + +<table align = "center" summary = "names of general editors"> +<tr> +<td colspan = "2"> +<p class = "editors">GENERAL EDITORS</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td width = "50%"> +<span class = "smallcaps">H. Richard Archer</span>, +<i>William Andrews Clark Memorial Library</i><br> +<span class = "smallcaps">Richard C. Boys</span>, +<i>University of Michigan</i> +</td> +<td> +<span class = "smallcaps">Edward Niles Hooker</span>, +<i>University of California, Los Angeles</i><br> +<span class = "smallcaps">H. T. Swedenberg, Jr.</span>, +<i>University of California, Los Angeles</i> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table class = "order" summary = "order blank"> +<tr> +<td class = "order" colspan = "3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order"> +<span class = "smallcaps">To The Augustan Reprint Society</span> +</td> +<td class = "years">The fourth year</td> +<td class = "price">$2.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order"> +<i>William Andrews Clark Memorial Library</i></td> +<td class = "years">The third and fourth year</td> +<td class = "price">$5.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order"> +<i>2205 West Adams Blvd., Los Angeles 7, California</i></td> +<td class = "years">The second, third and fourth year</td> +<td class = "price">$7.50</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order"> +As <span class = "smallcaps">membership fee</span> I enclose for:</td> +<td class = "years">The first, second, third, and fourth year</td> +<td class = "price">$10.00</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order"> +<i>Name</i></td> +<td class = "years" colspan = "2">[Add $.25 for each year if ordering +from Great Britain or the +continent]</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class = "order" colspan = "3"> +<i>Address</i></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan = "3"> +<p align = "center">Make check or money order payable to <span class = +"smallcaps">The Regents of the University of California.</span><br> +<i>Note: All income of the Society is devoted to defraying cost of +printing and mailing.</i></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + +<div class = "typehead">PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN +REPRINT SOCIETY</div> + +<div class = "publist"> +First Year (1946-1947) +</div> +<br> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/13484">1.</a> +Richard Blackmore's <i>Essay upon Wit</i> (1716), and Addison's +<i>Freeholder</i> No. 45 (1716). (I, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14528">2.</a> +Samuel Cobb's <i>Of Poetry</i> and <i>Discourse on Criticism</i> +(1707). (II, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14047">3.</a> +<i>Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage</i> (1698), and Richard +Willis' <i>Occasional Paper No. IX</i> (1698). (III, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14973">4.</a> +<i>Essay on Wit</i> (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and +Joseph Warton's <i>Adventurer</i> Nos. 127 and 133. (I, 2) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +5. Samuel Wesley's <i>Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry</i> (1700) +and <i>Essay on Heroic Poetry</i> (1693). (II, 2) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/15656">6.</a> +<i>Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage</i> (1704) +and <i>Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage</i> (1704). (III, 2) +</div> +<br> +<div class = "publist"> +Second Year (1947-1948) +</div> +<br> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14800">7.</a> +John Gay's <i>The Present State of Wit</i> (1711); and a section on Wit +from <i>The English Theophrastus</i> (1702). (I, 3) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14495">8.</a> +Rapin's <i>De Carmine Pastorali</i>, translated by Creech (1684). +(II, 3) +</div> +<div class = "publist1"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/14899">9.</a> +T. Hanmer's (?) <i>Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet</i> (1736). +(III, 3) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/16233">10.</a> +Corbyn Morris' <i>Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, +etc.</i> +(1744). (I, 4) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/15313">11.</a> +Thomas Purney's <i>Discourse on the Pastoral</i> (1717). (II, 4) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/16335">12.</a> +Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood +Krutch. (III, 4) +</div> +<br> +<div class = "publist"> +Third Year (1948-1949) +</div> +<br> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/15999">13.</a> +Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), <i>The Theatre</i> (1720). (IV, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/16267">14.</a> +Edward Moore's <i>The Gamester</i> (1753). (V, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +15. John Oldmixon's <i>Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley</i> +(1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's <i>The British Academy</i> (1712). +(VI, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +16. <ins class = "correction" title = "in preparation">Nevil Payne's +<i>Fatal Jealousy</i></ins> (1673). (V, 2) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/16275">17.</a> +Nicholas Rowe's <i>Some Account of the Life of Mr. William +Shakespear</i> (1709). (Extra Series, 1) +</div> +<div class = "publist"> +<a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org/etext/15870">18.</a> +Aaron Hill's Preface to <i>The Creation</i>; and Thomas Brereton's +Preface to <i>Esther</i>. (IV, 2) +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Busie Body, by Susanna Centlivre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + +***** This file should be named 16740-h.htm or 16740-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/4/16740/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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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: + + https://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> diff --git a/16740-h/images/salutation.jpg b/16740-h/images/salutation.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45ecf88 --- /dev/null +++ b/16740-h/images/salutation.jpg diff --git a/16740.txt b/16740.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44d04fd --- /dev/null +++ b/16740.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4452 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Busie Body, by Susanna Centlivre + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: The Busie Body + +Author: Susanna Centlivre + +Commentator: Jess Byrd + +Release Date: September 24, 2005 [EBook #16740] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + The Augustan Reprint Society + + + SUSANNA CENTLIVRE + _THE BUSIE BODY_ + (1709) + + With an Introduction by + Jess Byrd + + + Publication Number 19 + (Series V, No. 3) + + + + + Los Angeles + William Andrews Clark Memorial Library + University of California + 1949 + + + * * * * * + +_GENERAL EDITORS_ + + +H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_ +RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ +EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ +H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_ + + +_ASSISTANT EDITOR_ + +W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_ + + +_ADVISORY EDITORS_ + +EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ +BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_ +LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ +CLEANTH BROOKS, _Yale University_ +JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ +ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ +SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ +ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_ +JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_ + + * * * * * + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Susanna Centlivre (1667?-1723) in _The Busie Body_ (1709) contributed +to the stage one of the most successful comedies of intrigue of the +eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This play, written when there was a +decided trend in England toward sentimental drama, shows Mrs. Centlivre +a strong supporter of laughing comedy. She had turned for a time to +sentimental comedy and with one of her three sentimental plays, _The +Gamester_ (1704), had achieved a great success. But her true bent seems +to have been toward realistic comedies, chiefly of intrigue: of her +nineteen plays written from 1700 to 1723, ten are realistic comedies. +Three of these proved very popular in her time and enjoyed a long stage +history: _The Busie Body_ (1709); _The Wonder: A Woman Keeps a Secret_ +(1714); and _A Bold Stroke for a Wife_ (1717). _The Busie Body_ best +illustrates Mrs. Centlivre's preference for laughing comedy with an +improved moral tone. The characters and the plot are amusing but +inoffensive, and, compared to those of Restoration drama, satisfy the +desire of the growing eighteenth-century middle-class audience for +respectability on the stage. + +The theory of comedy on which _The Busie Body_ rests is a traditional +one, but Mrs. Centlivre's simple pronouncements on the virtues of +realistic over sentimental comedy are interesting because of the +controversy on this subject among critics and writers at this time. In +the preface to her first play, _The Perjur'd Husband_ (1700), she takes +issue with Jeremy Collier on the charge of immorality in realistic +plays. The stage, she believes, should present characters as they are; +it is unreasonable to expect a "Person, whose inclinations are always +forming Projects to the Dishonor of her Husband, should deliver her +Commands to her Confident in the Words of a Psalm." In a letter written +in 1700 she says: "I think the main design of Comedy is to make us +laugh." (Abel Boyer, _Letters of Wit, Politicks, and Morality_, London, +1701, p. 362). But, she adds, since Collier has taught religion to the +"Rhiming Trade, the Comick Muse in Tragick Posture sat" until she +discovered Farquhar, whose language is amusing but decorous and whose +plots are virtuous. This insistence on decorum and virtue indicates a +concession to Collier and to the public. Thus in the preface to _Love's +Contrivance_ (1703), she reiterates her belief that comedy should amuse +but adds that she strove for a "modest stile" which might not "disoblige +the nicest ear." This modest style, not practiced in early plays, is +achieved admirably in _The Busie Body_. Yet, as she says in the +epilogue, she has not followed the critics who balk the pleasure of +the audience to refine their taste; her play will with "good humour, +pleasure crown the Night." In dialogue, in plot, and particularly in +the character of the amusing but inoffensive Marplot, she fulfills her +simple theory of comedy designed not for reform but for laughter. + +Mrs. Centlivre followed the practices of her contemporaries in borrowing +the plot for _The Busie Body_. The three sources for the play are: _The +Devil Is an Ass_ (1616) by Jonson; _L'Etourdi_ (1658) by Moliere; and +_Sir Martin Mar-all or The Feigned Innocence_ (1667) by Dryden. From +_The Devil Is an Ass_, Mrs. Centlivre borrowed minor details and two +episodes, one of them the amusing dumb scene. This scene, though a close +imitation, seems more amusing in _The Busie Body_ than in Jonson's play, +perhaps because the characters, especially Sir Francis Gripe and +Miranda, are more credible and more fully portrayed. From the second +source for _The Busie Body_, Moliere's _L'Etourdi_, I believe Mrs. +Centlivre borrowed the framework for her parallel plots, the theme of +Marplot's blundering, and the name and general character of Marplot. But +she has improved what she borrowed. She places in Moliere's framework +more credible women characters than his, especially in the charming +Miranda and the crafty Patch; she constructs a more skillful intrigue +plot for the stage than his subplot and emphasizes Spanish customs in +the lively Charles-Isabinda-Traffick plot. Mrs. Centlivre concentrates +on Marplot's blundering, whereas Moliere concentrates on the servant +Mascarille's schemes. Marplot's funniest blunder, in the "monkey" scene, +is entirely original as far as I know (IV, iv). But her greatest change +is in the character of Marplot, who in her hands becomes not so much +stupid as human and irresistibly ludicrous. Mrs. Centlivre's style is +of course inferior to that of Moliere. In the preface to _Love's +Contrivance_ (1703), in speaking of borrowings from Moliere, she said +that borrowers "must take care to touch the Colors with an English +Pencil, and form the Piece according to our Manners." Of course her +touching the "Colors with an English Pencil" meant changing the style +of Moliere to suit the less delicate taste of the middle-class English +audience. + +A third source for _The Busie Body_ is Dryden's _Sir Martin Mar-all_ +(1667). Since Dryden followed Moliere with considerable exactness, it +would be difficult to prove beyond doubt that Mrs. Centlivre borrowed +from Moliere rather than from Dryden. Yet I believe, after a careful +analysis of the plays, that she borrowed from Moliere. She made of _The +Busie Body_ a comedy of intrigue based on the theme and plot used by +both Moliere and Dryden, but she omitted the scandalous Restoration +third plot which Dryden had added to Moliere. Her characters are English +in speech and action, but they lack the coarseness apparent in Dryden's +_Sir Martin Mar-all_. Though it is impossible to prove the exact sources +of Mrs. Centlivre's borrowings, there is no doubt that she has improved +what she borrowed. + +Whatever the truth may be about Mrs. Centlivre's use of her sources, her +play remained in the repertory of acting plays long after _L'Etourdi_ +and _Sir Martin Mar-all_ had disappeared. _The Busie Body_ opened at the +Drury Lane Theater on May 12, 1709. Steele, who listed the play in _The +Tatler_ for May 14, 1709, does not mention the length of the run. Thomas +Whincop says that the play ran thirteen nights (_Scanderbeg_, London, +1747, p. 190), but Genest says the play had an opening run of seven +nights (_Some Account of the English Stage from the Restoration in 1660 +to 1830_, II, 419). The play remained popular throughout the eighteenth +and nineteenth centuries. Genest lists it as being presented in +twenty-three seasons from 1709 to 1800. It was certainly presented much +more frequently than this record shows, for Dougald MacMillan in _The +Drury Lane Calendar_ lists fifty-three performances from 1747-1776, +whereas Genest records two performances in this period. The greatest +number of performances in any season was fourteen in 1758-59, the year +David Garrick appeared in the play. From the records available _The +Busie Body_ seems to have reached its greatest popularity in England +in the middle and late eighteenth century and the early part of the +nineteenth century. William Hazlitt, in the "Prefatory Remarks" to the +Oxberry acting edition of 1819, says _The Busie Body_ has been acted a +"thousand times in town and country, giving delight to the old, the +young, and the middle-aged." + +_The Busie Body_ enjoyed a similar place of importance in the stage +history of America but achieved its greatest popularity, in New York +at least, in the nineteenth century. First performed in Williamsburg +on September 10, 1736, the play was presented fifteen times in New +York in the eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century forty-five +performances were given in New York in sixteen seasons from 1803 to 1885 +(George Odell, _Annals of the New York Stage_). _The Busie Body_ is +frequently cited with _The Rivals_ and _The School for Scandal_ for +opening seasons and for long runs by great actors. + +The text here reproduced is from a copy of the first edition now in the +library of the University of Michigan. + + _Jess Byrd_ + _Salem College_ + + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + + + THE + BUSIE BODY: + + A + COMEDY. + + As it is Acted at the + THEATRE-ROYAL + in + _DRURY-LANE_, + + By Her Majesty's Servants. + + Written by Mrs. SUSANNA CENTLIVRE. + + + Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso Gloria curru, + Exanimat lentus Spectator, sedulus inflat. + Sic Leve, sic parvum est, animum quod laudis avarum + Subruit aut reficit-- + + Horat. Epist. Lib. II. Ep. 1. + + + _LONDON_, + +Printed for BERNARD LINTOTT, at the _Cross-Keys_ +between the Two _Temple-Gates_ in _Fleet-street_. + + * * * * * + + To The + RIGHT HONOURABLE + + _JOHN_ Lord _SOMMERS_, + + Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most + Honourable Privy-Council. + + +_May it please Your Lordship,_ + +As it's an Establish'd Custom in these latter Ages, for all Writers, +particularly the Poetical, to shelter their Productions under the +Protection of the most Distinguish'd, whose Approbation produces a kind +of Inspiration, much superior to that which the _Heathenish_ Poets +pretended to derive from their Fictitious _Apollo_: So it was my +Ambition to Address one of my weak Performances to Your Lordship, who, +by Universal Consent, are justly allow'd to be the best Judge of all +kinds of Writing. + +I was indeed at first deterr'd from my Design, by a Thought that it +might be accounted unpardonable Rudeness to obtrude a Trifle of this +Nature to a Person, whose sublime Wisdom moderates that Council, which +at this Critical Juncture, over-rules the Fate of all _Europe_. But then +I was encourag'd by Reflecting, that _Lelius_ and _Scipio_, the two +greatest Men in their Time, among the _Romans_, both for Political and +Military Virtues, in the height of their important Affairs, thought +the Perusal and Improving of _Terence_'s Comedies the noblest way of +Unbinding their Minds. I own I were guilty of the highest Vanity, should +I presume to put my Composures in Parallel with those of that Celebrated +_Dramatist_. But then again, I hope that Your Lordship's native Goodness +and Generosity, in Condescension to the Taste of the Best and Fairest +part of the Town, who have been pleas'd to be diverted by the following +SCENES, will excuse and overlook such Faults as your nicer Judgment +might discern. + +And here, my Lord, the Occasion seems fair for me to engage in a +Panegyrick upon those Natural and Acquired Abilities, which so brightly +Adorn your Person: But I shall resist that Temptation, being conscious +of the Inequality of a Female Pen to so Masculine an Attempt; and having +no other Ambition, than to Subscribe my self, + + My Lord, + Your Lordship's + Most Humble and + Most Obedient Servant, + + SUSANNA CENTLIVRE. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + +By the Author of TUNBRIDGE-WALKS. + + +Tho' modern Prophets were expos'd of late, +The Author cou'd not Prophesie his Fate; +If with such Scenes an Audience had been Fir'd, +The Poet must have really been Inspir'd. +But these, alas! are Melancholy Days +For Modern Prophets, and for Modern Plays. +Yet since Prophetick Lyes please Fools o'Fashion, +And Women are so fond of Agitation; +To Men of Sense, I'll Prophesie anew, +And tell you wond'rous things, that will prove true: +_Undaunted Collonels will to Camps repair,_ +_Assur'd, there'll be no Skirmishes this Year;_ +On our own Terms will flow the wish'd-for Peace, +All Wars, except 'twixt Man and Wife, will cease. +The Grand Monarch may wish his Son a Throne, +But hardly will advance to lose his own. +This Season most things bear a smiling Face; +But Play'rs in Summer have a dismal Case, +Since your Appearance only is our Act of Grace. +Court Ladies will to Country Seats be gone, +My Lord can't all the Year live Great in Town, +Where wanting _Opera's_, _Basset_, and a _Play_, +They'll Sigh and stitch a Gown, to pass the time away. +Gay City-Wives at _Tunbridge_ will appear, +Whose Husbands long have laboured for an Heir; +Where many a Courtier may their Wants relieve, +But by the Waters only they Conceive. +The _Fleet-street_ Sempstress--Toast of _Temple_ Sparks, +That runs Spruce Neckcloths for Attorney's Clerks; +At _Cupid_'s _Gardens_ will her Hours regale, +Sing fair _Dorinda_, and drink Bottl'd Ale. +At all Assemblies, Rakes are up and down, +And Gamesters, where they think they are not known. + Shou'd I denounce our Author's fate to Day, +To cry down Prophecies, you'd damn the Play: +Yet Whims like these have sometimes made you Laugh; +'Tis Tattling all, like _Isaac Bickerstaff_. + Since War, and Places claim the Bards that write, +Be kind, and bear a Woman's Treat to-Night; +Let your Indulgence all her Fears allay, +And none but Woman-Haters damn this Play. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +In me you see one _Busie-Body_ more; +Tho' you may have enough of one before. +With Epilogues, the _Busie-Body_'s Way, +We strive to help; but sometimes mar a Play. +At this mad Sessions, half condemn'd e'er try'd, +Some, in three Days, have been turn'd off, and dy'd, +In spight of Parties, their Attempts are vain, +For like false Prophets, they ne'er rise again. +Too late, when cast, your Favour one beseeches, +And Epilogues prove Execution Speeches. +Yet sure I spy no _Busie-Bodies_ here; +And one may pass, since they do ev'ry where. +Sowr Criticks, Time and Breath, and Censures waste, +And baulk your Pleasure to refine your Taste. +One busie Don ill-tim'd high Tenets Preaches, +Another yearly shows himself in Speeches. +Some snivling Cits, wou'd have a Peace for spight, +To starve those Warriours who so bravely fight. +Still of a Foe upon his Knees affraid; +Whose well-hang'd Troops want Money, Heart, and Bread. +Old Beaux, who none not ev'n themselves can please, +Are busie still; for nothing--but to teize +The Young, so busie to engage a Heart, +The Mischief done, are busie most to part. +Ungrateful Wretches, who still cross ones Will, +When they more kindly might be busie still! +One to a Husband, who ne'er dreamt of Horns, +Shows how dear Spouse, with Friend his Brows adorns. +Th' Officious Tell-tale Fool, (he shou'd repent it.) +Parts three kind Souls that liv'd at Peace contented, +Some with Law Quirks set _Houses_ by the Ears; +With Physick one what he wou'd heal impairs. +Like that dark Mob'd up Fry, that neighb'ring Curse, +Who to remove Love's Pain, bestow a worse. +Since then this meddling Tribe infest the Age, +Bear one a while, expos'd upon the Stage. +Let none but _Busie-Bodies_ vent their Spight! +And with good Humour, Pleasure crown the Night!_ + + + + +Dramatis Personae. + +Men. + +Sir _George Airy_. A Gentleman of Four Thousand a Year +in Love with _Miranda_. + Acted by Mr. _Wilks_. + +Sir _Francis Gripe_. Guardian to _Miranda_ and _Marplot_, +Father to _Charles_, in Love with _Miranda_. + Mr. _Estcourt_. + +_Charles_. Friend to _Sir George_, in Love with _Isabinda_. + Mr. _Mills_. + +Sir _Jealous Traffick_. A Merchant that had liv'd sometime +in _Spain_, a great Admirer of the _Spanish_ Customs, +Father to _Isabinda_. + Mr. _Bullock_. + +_Marplot_. A sort of a silly Fellow, Cowardly, but very +Inquisitive to know every Body's Business, generally spoils +all he undertakes, yet without Design. + Mr. _Pack_. + +_Whisper_. Servant to _Charles_. + Mr. _Bullock_ jun. + + +Women. + +_Miranda_. An Heiress, worth Thirty Thousand Pound, really +in Love with Sir _George_, but pretends to be so with her +Guardian Sir _Francis_. + Mrs. _Cross_. + +_Isabinda_. Daughter to Sir _Jealous_, in Love with _Charles_, +but design'd for a _Spanish_ Merchant by her Father, and kept +up from the sight of all Men. + Mrs. _Rogers_. + +_Patch_. Her Woman. + Mrs. _Saunders_. + +_Scentwell_. Woman to _Miranda_. + Mrs. _Mills_. + + +[Transcriber's Note: +The scenes within each Act are not numbered. Their descriptions are +listed here for convenience: + +ACT I [scene i] The Park +ACT II [scene i] [Sir Francis Gripe's house] + [scene ii] Sir Jealous Traffick's House + [scene iii] Charles's Lodging +ACT III [scene i] [outside Sir Jealous Traffick's house] + [scene ii] the Street + [scene iii] Sir Francis Gripe's House + [scene iv] a Tavern +ACT IV [scene i] the Out-side of Sir Jealous Traffick's House + [scene ii] Isabinda's Chamber + [scene iii] a Garden Gate open + [scene iv] the House [of Sir Jealous Traffick] +ACT V [scene i] [Sir Francis Gripe's house] + [scene ii] the Street before Sir _Jealous_'s Door + [scene iii] Inside the House [of Sir Jealous Traffick] ] + + + THE + BUSIE BODY. + + + ACT I. SCENE _The Park_. + + Sir _George Airy_ meeting _Charles_. + + +_Cha._ Ha! Sir _George Airy!_ A Birding thus early, what forbidden Game +rouz'd you so soon? For no lawful Occasion cou'd invite a Person of your +Figure abroad at such unfashionable Hours. + +Sir _Geo._ There are some Men, _Charles_, whom Fortune has left free +from Inquietudes, who are diligently Studious to find out Ways and Means +to make themselves uneasie. + +_Cha._ Is it possible that any thing in Nature can ruffle the Temper of +a Man, whom the four Seasons of the Year compliment with as many +Thousand Pounds, nay! and a Father at Rest with his Ancestors. + +Sir _Geo._ Why there 'tis now! a Man that wants Money thinks none can be +unhappy that has it; but my Affairs are in such a whimsical Posture, +that it will require a Calculation of my Nativity to find if my Gold +will relieve me or not. + +_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, never consult the Stars about that; Gold has a Power +beyond them; Gold unlocks the Midnight Councils; Gold out-does the Wind, +becalms the Ship, or fills her Sails; Gold is omnipotent below; it makes +whole Armies fight, or fly; It buys even Souls, and bribes the Wretches +to betray their Country: Then what can thy Business be, that Gold won't +serve thee in? + +Sir _Geo._ Why, I'm in Love. + +_Cha._ In Love--Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with what, prithee, +a _Cherubin!_ + +Sir _Geo._ No, with a Woman. + +_Cha._ A Woman, Good, Ha, ha, ha, and Gold not help thee? + +Sir _Geo._ But suppose I'm in Love with two-- + +_Cha._ Ay, if thou'rt in Love with two hundred, Gold will fetch 'em, I +warrant thee, Boy. But who are they? who are they? come. + +Sir _Geo._ One is a Lady, whose Face I never saw, but Witty as an Angel; +the other Beautiful as _Venus_-- + +_Cha._ And a Fool-- + +Sir _Geo._ For ought I know, for I never spoke to her, but you can +inform me; I am charm'd by the Wit of One, and dye for the Beauty of the +Other? + +_Cha._ And pray, which are you in Quest of now? + +Sir _Geo._ I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, who is +thy Father's Ward _Miranda_. + +_Cha._ Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more part +with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me from +starving. + +Sir _Geo._ Now you see Gold can't do every thing, _Charles_. + +_Cha._ Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against you. + +Sir _Geo._ Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou by such +a Liberal Education? + +_Cha._ Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an Uncle who +defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, tho' he +made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of +Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and +now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, +than if it lay in _Prester John_'s Dominions. + +Sir _Geo._ What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it? + +_Cha._ I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the Mistress of +Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too cunning for +me--I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then for my last +Refuge, a Brown Musquet. + +Sir _Geo._ What is't, can I assist thee? + +_Cha._ Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to ask it. + +Sir _Geo._ I am always ready, but what do's he intend to do with +_Miranda?_ Is she to be sold in private? or will he put her up by way of +Auction, at who bids most? If so, Egad, I'm for him: my Gold, as you +say, shall be subservient to my Pleasure. + +_Cha._ To deal ingeniously with you, Sir _George_, I know very little of +Her, or Home; for since my Uncle's Death, and my Return from Travel, I +have never been well with my Father; he thinks my Expences too great, +and I his Allowance too little; he never sees me, but he quarrels; and +to avoid that, I shun his House as much as possible. The Report is, he +intends to marry her himself. + +Sir _Geo._ Can she consent to it? + +_Cha._ Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you, I am wholly ignorant of +the matter. _Miranda_ and I are like two violent Members of a contrary +Party, I can scarce allow her Beauty, tho' all the World do's; nor she +me Civility, for that Contempt, I fancy she plays the Mother-in-law +already, and sets the old Gentleman on to do mischief. + +Sir _Geo._ Then I've your free Consent to get her. + +_Cha._ Ay and my helping-hand, if occasion be. + +Sir _Geo._ Pugh, yonder's a Fool coming this way, let's avoid him. + +_Cha._ What _Marplot_, no no, he's my Instrument; there's a thousand +Conveniences in him, he'll lend me his Money when he has any, run of my +Errands and be proud on't; in short, he'll Pimp for me, Lye for me, +Drink for me, do any thing but Fight for me, and that I trust to my own +Arm for. + +Sir _Geo._ Nay then he's to be endur'd; I never knew his Qualifications +before. + + _Enter _Marplot_ with a Patch cross his Face._ + +_Marpl._ Dear _Charles_, your's,--Ha! Sir _George Airy_, the Man in the +World, I have an Ambition to be known to (_aside_.) Give me thy Hand, +dear Boy-- + +_Cha._ A good Assurance! But heark ye, how came your Beautiful +Countenance clouded in the wrong place? + +_Marpl._ I must confess 'tis a little _Mal-a-propos_, but no matter for +that; a Word with you, _Charles_; Prithee, introduce me to Sir +_George_--he is a Man of Wit, and I'd give ten Guinea's to-- + +_Cha._ When you have 'em, you mean. + +_Marpl._ Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the Thread of my +Discourse--I wou'd give ten Guinea's, I say, to be rank'd in his +Acquaintance: Well, 'tis a vast Addition to a Man's Fortune, according +to the Rout of the World, to be seen in the Company of Leading Men; for +then we are all thought to be Politicians, or Whigs, or Jacks, or +High-Flyers, or Low-Flyers, or Levellers--and so forth; for you must +know, we all herd in Parties now. + +_Cha._ Then a Fool for Diversion is out of Fashion, I find. + +_Marpl._ Yes, without it be a mimicking Fool, and they are Darlings +every where; but prithee introduce me. + +_Cha._ Well, on Condition you'll give us a true Account how you came by +that Mourning Nose, I will. + +_Marpl._ I'll do it. + +_Cha._ Sir _George_, here's a Gentleman has a passionate Desire to kiss +your Hand. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this Gentleman +is lately come from _Spain_ or _Portugal_--by his Scars. + +_Marpl._ No really, Sir _George_, mine sprung from civil Fury, happening +last Night into the Groom-Porters--I had a strong Inclination to go ten +Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a--kind of a Milk Sop, as I thought: A +Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets being empty as _Charles_ +knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly _North-Britain_, and broke +my Face for my Deficiency. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! ha! and did not you draw? + +_Marpl._ Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to make a +swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin ye +touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, + +_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I suppose. + +_Marp._ Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my +Friends you know-- + +Sir _Geo._ Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll rank +me in that Number. + +_Marpl._ Sir _George_, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your +Chariot, binds me ever yours. + +Sir _Geo._ Trifles, you may command 'em when you please. + +_Cha._ Provided he may command you-- + +_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir _George_, I have the +Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll +tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman-- + +Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my +Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with +an Air of Business, Ha! + +_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman. + +Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_ + +_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are +Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon; +that Sir _Francis Gripe_ is a damn'd old-- + +_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father-- + +_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, _Charles_, but it is for your sake I hate +him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety, +makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every +Heir's Jaylor. Egad, _Charles_, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some +_Ward_ too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee +as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality. + +Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow. + +_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his +Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but +some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner spoils +an Intreague than helps it-- + +_Marpl._ If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions. + +_Cha._ Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife. + +_Marpl._ Pish, Pox, that was an Accident. + +Sir _Geo._ What was it, prithee? + +_Ch._ Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting +Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him along +with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to the +Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the +Letter, and offers her the Horses. + +_Marpl._ I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter to +be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid for. + +_Cha._ Come, Sir _George_, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for +I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him +to bring me the Answer into the Park. + +_Marpl._ Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him. + +Sir _Geo._ I must beg your Pardon, _Charles_, I am to meet your Father +here. + +_Ch._ My Father! + +Sir _Geo._ Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard off; +but I'll not impart till I know the Success. + +_Marpl._ What can his Business be with Sir _Francis?_ Now wou'd I give +all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know every Man's +Concern. + (_Aside_. + +_Cha._ Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over +a Bottle we'll compare Notes. + +_Marpl._ _Charles_ knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make +one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets. + (_Aside._ + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whis._ Sir, Sir, Mis _Patch_ says, _Isabinda_'s Spanish Father has +quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the Park, but he +infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must step again +to know the Hour. + +_Marpl._ What did _Whisper_ say now? I shall go stark Mad, if I'm not +let into this Secret. + (_Aside._ + +_Cha._ Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels Pleasure at +her Name. Sir _George_, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual +Hour. + +Sir _Geo._ Agreed; I think I see Sir _Francis_ yonder. + (_Exit._ + +_Cha._ _Marplot_, you must excuse me, I am engag'd. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your +Engagement is. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ (_Coming out of a Chair._) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That +dog'd Sir _George_ said he was in the Park. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +Ha! Mis _Patch_ alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to +bring _Isabinda_ to the Park? + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched +Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my +Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is +right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible +Fright--At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at +leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he +snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which +my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your +Ladiship with the sad Relation. + +_Miran._ Unhappy _Isabinda!_ Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the +Humour of Sir _Jealousie Traffick_. + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in _Spain_, he vows he'll +spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to +bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious _Spanish_ +Customs--He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen +Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten +Child in the City. + +_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could +introduce his rigid Rules--does he think we cou'd not match them in +Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if +there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break +'em: Is his Mind set upon the _Spaniard_ for his Son-in-law still? + +_Patch._ Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his +Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the +same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladiship.--My +Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir +_Jealousie_ believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is +to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty. + +_Miran._ I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her, +or I had not parted with thee to her Father. + +_Patch._ But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your +Guardian. + +_Miran._ It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, _Patch_. + +_Patch._ But is it true, Madam? + +_Miran._ That's not absolutely necessary. + +_Patch._ I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for +your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind +now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is +with her Father. + +_Miran._ No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give +now to be in this _dissabilee_ in the--open Air, nay more, in pursuit of +the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee. + +_Patch._ As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't +come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old _Argus_. + +_Miran._ Now _Patch_, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes--Ha! +my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir +_Francis_ can't know me in this Dress--Let's observe 'em. + (_They +withdraw._ + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_ and Sir _George Airy_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Verily, Sir _George_, thou wilt repent throwing away thy +Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, _Miranda_, my Charge do's not love +a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good Husbands; in +sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) In sober Sadness you are mistaken--what can this +mean? + +Sir _Geo._ Look ye, Sir _Francis_, whether she can or cannot abide young +Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty Guineas? + +Sir _Fran._ In good truth--I will not, for I knew thy Father, he was a +hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son should squander away +what he sav'd, to no purpose. + +_Mirand._ (_Peeping._) Now, in the Name of Wonder, what Bargain can he +be driving about me for fifty Guineas? + +_Patch._ I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, Madam. + +Sir _Geo._ Well, Sir _Francis_, since you are so conscientious for my +Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, _Gratis_. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) The Favour! Oh my Life! I believe 'tis as you +said, _Patch_. + +Sir _Fran._ No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou wou'd +never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune. + +Sir _Geo._ The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty Sum--Let me +see--a Hundred Guineas-- (_Takes 'em out of a Purse and chinks 'em._) +Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a very pleasing Look--But then, +_Miranda_--But if she should be cruel-- + +_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall-- + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he. + +Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't. + +_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam? + +Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions-- + +Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.) + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on +the Rack. + +Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it. + +Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on. + +Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to +move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the space of Ten Minutes, without Lett +or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room. + +Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot-- + +Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha, +in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas. + +Sir _Geo._ Take it-- + (_Gives him the Purse_. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both-- + +Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day. + +Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_ +and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last +sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_Chinks 'em_.) + (Exit. + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_. + +Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should +be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally +impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to +her-- + +_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Say you so? Then I am safe. + +Sir _Geo._ What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a thousand +Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm lucky--if +not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away. + (__Miranda_ and _Patch_ come forwards._ + +_Miran._ Upon what Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! my _Incognito_--upon a Woman, Madam. + +_Miran._ They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the +soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your +Return, Sir _George_, Ha, ha! + +Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces +with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but +Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy +Face. + +_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense-- + +Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam. + +_Patch._ So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir. + +Sir _Geo._ No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my +Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger-- + +_Miran._ Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against +the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband +upon your Forehead-- + +Sir _Geo._ For my Folly in having so often met you here, without +pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command--But I resolve +e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of +Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the +trouble of doing it for you. + +_Miran._ My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir _George_, +which if you'll be so rude to provoke. + +Sir _Geo._ You'll apply it to my Cheek--The Ladies Favours are always +Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. (_Taking hold of her_.) +Remember you are in the _Park_, Child, and what a terrible thing would +it be to lose this pretty white Hand. + +_Miran._ And how will it sound in a _Chocolate-House_, that Sir _George +Airy_ rudely pull'd off a Ladies Mask, when he had given her his Honour, +that he never would, directly or indirectly endeavour to know her till +she gave him Leave. + +_Patch._ I wish we were safe out. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ But if that Lady thinks fit to pursue and meet me at every +turn like some troubl'd Spirit, shall I be blam'd if I inquire into the +Reality? I would have nothing dissatisfy'd in a Female Shape. + +_Miran._ What shall I do? + (_Pause._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, prithee consider, for thou shalt find me very much at thy +Service. + +_Patch._ Suppose, Sir, the Lady shou'd be in Love with you. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh! I'll return the Obligation in a Moment. + +_Patch._ And marry her? + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, that's not the way to Love her Child. + +_Miran._ If he discovers me, I shall die--Which way shall I escape?--Let +me see. + (_Pauses._ + +Sir _Geo._ Well, Madam-- + +_Miran._ I have it--Sir _George_, 'tis fit you should allow something; +if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you look upon me I +shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I have engag'd you +so often, who I am, and where I live? + +Sir _Geo._ Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the +Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a +Secret to me. + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ What mean you, Madam? + +_Miran._ To get off. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a Lady; but +you command and I obey. (_Turns his Back._) Come, Madam, begin-- + +_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at _Paris_ (_Draws +back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape +and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from +that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the +Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd +know.-- + + _Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_ + _And quit the Place in search of Liberty._ + (Exit. + +Sir _Geo._ Excellent--I hope she's Handsome--Well, Now, Madam, to the +other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?--I am a Gentleman, and +this Confession will not be lost upon me.--Nay, prithee don't weep, but +go on--for I find my Heart melts in thy Behalf--speak quickly or I shall +turn about--Not yet.--Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and +to do her Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. (_Turns about._) +Ha? gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented--of +_Paris_, Balls, and Birth-Days.--Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to know who +this Gipsie is.--A Curse of my Folly--I deserve to lose her; what Woman +can forgive a Man that turns his Back. + + _The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War, + To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way; + The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair, + As Courage makes the rudest Force obey, + Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye, + Closely pursue them and they fall before ye._ + +The End of the First ACT. + + + + +ACT the Second. + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Miranda_._ + + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with Laughing.--The +most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the odious young Fop mean? A +Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it had been +in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog. + +_Mirand._ Indeed and Indeed, but you might _Gardy_.--Now methinks +there's no Body Handsomer than you; So Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd, +and so Loving.-- + +Sir _Fran._ Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find me, if +thou do'st prefer thy _Gardy_ before these Caperers of the Age, thou +shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an _Opera_ Night; thou shalt be the +Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to _Hide-Park_) and thy Equipage +shall Surpass, the what--d'ye call 'em Ambassadors. + +_Miran._ Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me more for +the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside Equipage. + +Sir _Fran._ A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one too; and +to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment Disinherit my +Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee. + +_Miran._ There's an old Rogue now: (_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I would not +have your Name be so Black in the World--You know my Father's Will runs, +that I am not to possess my Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five +and Twenty; you shall only abate the odd Seven Years, and make me +Mistress of my Estate to Day, and I'll make you Master of my Person to +Morrow. + +Sir _Fran._ Humph? that may not be safe--No _Chargy_, I'll Settle it +upon thee for _Pin-mony_; and that will be every bit as well, thou +know'st. + +_Miran._ Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own Money--Which +way shall I get out of his Hands? + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter +Sir _George?_ + +_Miran._ I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well: +(_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I have thought of a way will Confound him more +than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years. + +Sir _Fran._ How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad-- + +_Miran._ It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (_Aside._) I'll not +Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says-- + +Sir _Fran._ Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have +you now, Sir _George_: Dumb! he'll go Distracted--Well, she's the +wittiest Rogue--Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how +damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a +Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardy_, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd +make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, so it wou'd _Chargy_, to hold him in such Derision, to +scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha. + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +Sir _Fran._ How now, Sirrah, Who let you in? + +_Char._ My Necessity, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and ought to +have sent before they Entred. + +_Char._ Sir, I knew 'twas a Word wou'd gain Admittance no where. + +Sir _Fran._ Then, Sirrah, how durst you Rudely thrust that upon your +Father, which no Body else wou'd admit? + +_Char._ Sure the Name of a Son is a sufficient Plea. I ask this Lady's +Pardon if I have intruded. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Ay, ask her Pardon and her Blessing too, if you expect +any thing from me. + +_Miran._ I believe yours, Sir _Francis_, in a Purse of Guinea's wou'd be +more material. Your Son may have Business with you, I'll retire. + +Sir _Fran._ I guess his Business, but I'll dispatch him, I expect the +Knight every Minute: You'll be in Readiness. + +_Miran._ Certainly! my Expectation is more upon the wing than yours, old +Gentleman. + [_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir! + +_Char._ Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm sure. + +Sir _Fran,_ And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd have made +them better. + +_Char._ If you please to intrust me with the Management of my Estate, I +shall endeavour it, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at the +Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or by +your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up for +Parliament-Man. + +_Char._ I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask only for +what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. Adod +these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them to +squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so forth. + +_Char._ I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle bred me +like one. + +Sir _Fran._ From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, Whoring, and +the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman. + +_Char._ Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he falls +into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, employ +Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, what is it you mutter, Sirrah, ha? (_Holds up his +Cane._) I say, you sha'n't have a Groat out of my Hands till I +Please--and may be I'll never Please, and what's that to you? + +_Char._ Nay, to be Robb'd, or have one's Throat Cut is not much-- + +Sir _Fran._ What's that, Sirrah? wou'd ye Rob me, or Cut my Throat, ye +Rogue? + +_Char._ Heaven forbid, Sir,--I said no such thing. + +Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! What a Plague it is to have a Son of One and +Twenty, who wants to Elbow one out of one's Life, to Edge himself into +the Estate. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ Egad he's here--I was afraid I had lost him: His Secret cou'd +not be with his Father, his Wants are Publick there--Guardian,--your +Servant _Charles_, I know by that sorrowful Countenance of thine. The +old Man's Fist is as close as his strong Box--But I'll help thee-- + +Sir _Fran._ So: Here's another extravagant Coxcomb, that will spend his +Fortune before he comes to't; but he shall pay swinging Interest, and so +let the Fool go on--Well, what do's Necessity bring you too, Sir? + +_Marpl._ You have hit it, Guardian--I want a Hundred Pound. + +Sir _Fran._ For what? + +_Marpl._ Po'gh, for a Hundred Things, I can't for my Life tell you for +what. + +_Char._ Sir, I suppose I have received all the Answer I am like to have. + +_Marpl._ Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose him +agen. + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you please--I +must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in mine. + +_Marpl._ Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty haste. + +Sir _Fran._ Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be long +plagu'd with thee. + (_Gives him a Note._ + +_Marpl._ Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have _Charles_ gone +before I come back agen. + (_Runs out._ + +_Char._ Well, Sir, I take my Leave--But remember, you Expose an only Son +to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too often lays the Plan +for Scenes of Mischief. + +Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head, +may prove to thy Advantage. + +_Char._ Ha, does he Relent? + +Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a +Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the +Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce +thee for nothing. + +_Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye. + +Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir. + +_Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty, +Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag. + +Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for +her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you +think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing +with you. + +_Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with +half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose +better for your self, I find. + +Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my +Marriage, Sirrah. + +_Char._ Sir, I obey: But-- + +Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money +agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without +Reply. + + (_Exit _Char_._ + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir. + + _Enter _Marplot_ Running._ + +_Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian? + +Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him. + +_Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the +Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now. +I shall certainly lose this Secret. + (_Exit, hastily._ + +Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk +up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool: +Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass already. + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd +you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_Chinks +them._) Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir _Francis_: Therefore be +brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post--if she's a Woman, and, not +seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his Heart ake; for if +she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll vary a Thousand +Shapes, but find it. + (_Aside._ + + _Enter _Mirand_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Agreed--_Miranda._ There Sir _George_, try your Fortune, +(_Takes out his Watch._) + +Sir _Geo._ + So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun, + Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below. + (_Salutes her._ + +Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement. + +Sir _Geo._ Oh! That's by way of Prologue:--Prithee, Old Mammon, to thy +Post. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, young _Timon_, 'tis now 4 exactly; one Hour, remember +is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more. + (_Retires to the bottom of +the Stage._ + +Sir _Geo._ Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the Author +of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the Life of +your Admirer; your sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love; +your Vivacity a Soul too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd +Mortality. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) Oh, that I durst speak-- + +Sir _Geo._ Shake off this Tyrant _Guardian_'s Yoke, assume your self, +and dash his bold aspiring Hopes; the Deity of his Desires, is Avarice; +a Heretick in Love, and ought to be banish'd by the Queen of Beauty. +See, Madam, a faithful Servant kneels and begs to be admitted in the +Number of your Slaves. + (Miranda _gives him her Hand to Raise him._ + +Sir _Fran._ I wish I cou'd hear what he says now. (_Running up._) Hold, +hold, hold, no Palming, that's contrary to Articles-- + +Sir _Geo._ Death, Sir, Keep your Distance, or I'll write another Article +in your Guts. + (_Lays his Hand to his Sword._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) A Bloody-minded Fellow!-- + +Sir _Geo._ Not Answer me! Perhaps she thinks my Address too Grave: I'll +be more free--Can you be so Unconscionable, Madam, to let me say all +these fine things to you without one single Compliment in Return? View +me well, am I not a proper Handsome Fellow, ha? Can you prefer that old, +dry, wither'd, sapless Log of Sixty-five, to the vigorous, gay, +sprightly Love of Twenty-four? With Snoring only he'll awake thee, but I +with Ravishing Delight wou'd make thy Senses Dance in Consort with the +Joyful Minutes--ha? not yet, sure she is Dumb--Thus wou'd I steal and +touch thy Beauteous Hand, (_Takes bold of her Hand_) till by degrees I +reach'd thy snowy Breasts, then Ravish Kisses thus, + (_Embraces her in Extasie._ + +_Miran._ (_Strugles and flings from him._) Oh Heavens! I shall not be +able to contain my self. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Running up with his Watch in his Hand._) Sure she did not +speak to him--There's Three Quarters of the Hour gone, Sir +_George_--Adod, I don't like those close Conferences-- + +Sir _Geo._ More Interruptions--You will have it, Sir. + (_Lays his Hand to his Sword._ + +Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) No, no, you shan't have her neither. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Dumb still--sure this old Dog has enjoyn'd her Silence; I'll +try another way--I must conclude, Madam, that in Compliance to your +Guardian's Humour, you refuse to answer me--Consider the Injustice of +his Injunction. This single Hour cost me a Hundred Pound--and wou'd you +answer me, I cou'd purchase the 24 so: However, Madam, you must give me +leave to make the best Interpretation I can for my Money, and take the +Indication of your Silence for the secret Liking of my Person: +Therefore, Madam, I will instruct you how to keep your Word inviolate to +Sir _Francis_, and yet Answer me to every Question: As for Example, When +I ask any thing, to which you wou'd Reply in the Affirmative, gently Nod +your Head--thus; and when in the Negative thus; (_(Shakes his Head_.) +and in the doubtful a tender Sigh, thus + (_Sighs._ + +_Miran._ How every Action charms me--but I'll fit him for Signs I +warrant him. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, ha. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Was it by his desire that you are Dumb, Madam, to all that I +can say? + +_Miran._ (_Nods._) + +Sir _Geo._ Very well! she's tractable I find--And is it possible that +you can love him? Miraculous! (__Miran._ Nods._) Pardon the bluntness of +my Questions, for my Time is short; may I not hope to supplant him in +your Esteem? (__Miran._ Sighs._) Good! she answers me as I could +wish--You'll not consent to marry him then? (__Miran._ Sighs._) How, +doubtful in that--Undone again--Humph! but that may proceed from his +Power to keep her out of her Estate till Twenty Five; I'll try +that--Come, Madam, I cannot think you hesitate in this Affair out of any +Motive, but your Fortune--Let him keep it till those few Years are +expir'd; make me Happy with your Person, let him enjoy your +Wealth--(__Miran._ holds up her Hands._) Why, what Sign is that now? +Nay, nay, Madam, except you observe my Lesson, I can't understand your +meaning-- + +Sir _Fran._ What a Vengeance, are they talking by Signs, 'ad I may be +fool'd here; what do you mean, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ To Cut your Throat if you dare Mutter another Syllable. + +Sir _Fran._ Od! I wish he were fairly out of my House. + +Sir _Geo._ Pray, Madam, will you answer me to the Purpose? (__Miran._ +shakes her Head, and points to Sir _Francis_._) What! does she mean she +won't answer me to the purpose, or is she afraid yon' old Cuff should +understand her Signs?--Aye, it must be that, I perceive, Madam, you are +too apprehensive of the Promise you have made to follow my Rules; +therefore I'll suppose your Mind and answer for you--First, for my self, +Madam, that I am in Love with you is an infallible Truth. Now for you: +(_Turns on her side._) Indeed, Sir, and may I believe it--As certainly, +Madam, as that 'tis Day light, or that I Die if you persist in +Silence--Bless me with the Musick of your Voice, and raise my Spirits to +their proper Heaven: Thus low let me intreat; e'er I'm oblig'd to quit +this Place, grant me some Token of a favourable Reception to keep my +Hopes alive. (_Arises hastily turns of her side._) Rise, Sir, and since +my Guardian's Presence will not allow me Privilege of Tongue, Read that +and rest assured you are not indifferent to me. (_Offers her a Letter._) +Ha! right Woman! But no (_She strikes it down._) matter I'll go on. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha! what's that a Letter--Ha, ha, ha, thou art baulk'd. + +_Miran._ The best Assurance I ever saw-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha? a Letter, Oh! let me Kiss it with the same Raptures that +I would do the dear Hand that touch'd it. (_Opens it._) Now for a quick +Fancy and a long _Extempore_--What's here? (_Reads._) "Dear, Sir +_George_, this Virgin Muse I consecrate to you, which when it has +receiv'd the Addition of your Voice, 'twill Charm me into Desire of +Liberty to Love, which you, and only you can fix." My Angel! Oh you +transport me! (_Kisses the Letter._) And see the Power of your Command; +the God of Love has set the Verse already; the flowing Numbers Dance +into a Tune, and I'm inspir'd with a Voice to sing it. + +_Miran._ I'm sure thou art inspir'd with Impudence enough. + +Sir _Geo._ (_Sings._) + _Great Love inspire him; + Say I admire him. + Give me the Lover + That can discover + Secret Devotion + from silent Motion; + Then don't betray me, + But hence convey me._ + +Sir _Geo._ (_Taking hold of _Miranda_._) With all my Heart, this Moment +let's Retire. + + (_Sir _Francis_ coming up hastily._) + +Sir _Fran._ The Hour is expir'd, Sir, and you must take your leave. +There, my Girl, there's the Hundred Pound which thou hast won, go, I'll +be with you presently, Ha, ha, ha, ha. + + (_Exit _Miranda_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ads Heart, Madam, you won't leave me just in the Nick, will +you? + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, she has nick'd you, Sir _George_, I think, Ha, +ha, ha: Have you any more Hundred Pounds to throw away upon Courtship, +Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ He, he, he, he, a Curse of your fleering Jests--Yet, however +ill I succeeded, I'll venture the same Wager, she does not value thee a +spoonful of Snuff--Nay more, though you enjoyn'd her Silence to me, +you'll never make her speak to the Purpose with your self. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, did not I tell thee thou would'st repent thy +Money? Did not I say she hated young Fellow's, Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ And I'm positive she's not in Love with Age. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, no matter for that, Ha, ha, she's not taken with +your Youth, nor your Rhetorick to boot, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me, I am certain she +can be taken with nothing about thee. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; how he swells with Envy!--Poor Man, poor +Man--Ha, ha; I must beg your Pardon, Sir _George_, _Miranda_ will be +Impatient to have her share of Mirth: Verily we shall Laugh at thee most +Egregiously; Ha, ha, ha. + +Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart, faith--I shall Laugh in my Turn too--For +if you dare marry her old _Belzebub_, you would be Cuckolded most +Egregiously; Remember that, and Tremble-- + + _She that to Age her Beauteous Self resigns, + Shows witty Management for close Designs. + Then if thou'rt grac'd with fair _Miranda_'s Bed, + _Actaeon_'s Horns she Means, shall Crown thy Head._ + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; he is mad. + + _These fluttering Fops imagine they can Wind, + Turn, and Decoy to Love, all Women-kind: + But here's a Proof of Wisdom in my Charge, + Old Men are Constant, Young Men live at Large. + The Frugal Hand can Bills at Sight defray, + When he that Lavish is, has Nought to pay._ + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE _Changes to Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_, _Isabinda_, _Patch_ following._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What in the Balcone agen, notwithstanding my positive +Commands to the contrary!--Why don't you write a Bill upon your +Forehead, to show Passengers there's something to be Let-- + +_Isab._ What harm can there be in a little fresh Air, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ Is your Constitution so hot, Mistriss, that it wants +cooling, ha? Apply the Virtuous _Spanish_ Rules, banish your Tast, and +Thoughts of Flesh, feed upon Roots, and quench your Thirst with Water. + +_Isab._ That, and a close Room, wou'd certainly make me die of the +Vapours. + +Sir _Jeal._ No, Mistriss, 'tis your High-fed, Lusty, Rambling, Rampant +Ladies--that are troubl'd with the Vapours; 'tis your Ratifia, Persico, +Cynamon, Citron, and Spirit of Clary, cause such Swi--m--ing in the +Brain, that carries many a Guinea full-tide to the Doctor. But you are +not to be Bred this way; No Galloping abroad, no receiving Visits at +home; for in our loose Country, the Women are as dangerous as the Men. + +_Patch._ So I told her, Sir; and that it was not Decent to be seen in a +Balcone--But she threaten'd to slap my Chaps, and told me, I was her +Servant, not her Governess. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did she so? But I'll make her to know, that you are her +_Duenna_: Oh that incomparable Custom of _Spain!_ why here's no +depending upon old Women in my Country--for they are as Wanton at +Eighty, as a Girl of Eighteen; and a Man may as safely trust to +_Asgill_'s Translation, as to his great Grand-Mother's not marrying +agen. + +_Isab._ Or to the _Spanish_ Ladies Veils, and _Duenna's_, for the +Safeguard of their Honour. + +Sir _Jeal._ Dare to Ridicule the Cautious Conduct of that wise Nation, +and I'll have you Lock'd up this Fortnight, without a Peephole. + +_Isab._ If we had but the Ghostly Helps in _England_, which they have in +_Spain_, I might deceive you if you did,--Sir, 'tis not the Restraint, +but the Innate Principles, secures the Reputation and Honour of our +Sex--Let me tell you, Sir, Confinement sharpens the Invention, as want +of Sight strengthens the other Senses, and is often more Pernicious than +the Recreation innocent Liberty allows. + +Sir _Jeal._ Say you so, Mistress, who the Devil taught you the Art of +Reasoning? I assure you, they must have a greater Faith than I pretend +to, that can think any Woman innocent who requires Liberty. Therefore, +_Patch_, to your Charge I give her; Lock her up till I come back from +Change: I shall have some sauntring Coxcomb, with nothing but a Red Coat +and a Feather, think, by Leaping into her Arms, to Leap into my +Estate--But I'll prevent them, she shall be only Signeur _Babinetto_'s. + +_Patch._ Really, Sir, I wish you wou'd employ any Body else in this +Affair; I lead a Life like a Dog with obeying your Commands. Come, +Madam, will you please to be Lock'd up. + +_Isab._ Ay, to enjoy more Freedom than he is aware of. + (_Aside._ + (_Exit with _Patch_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I believe this Wench is very true to my Interest: I am happy +I met with her, if I can but keep my Daughter from being blown upon till +Signeur _Babinetto_ arrives; who shall marry her as soon as he comes, +and carry her to _Spain_ as soon as he has marry'd her; she has a +pregnant Wit, and I'd no more have her an _English_ Wife, than the Grand +Signior's Mistress. + (_Exit._ + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whisp._ So, I see Sir _Jealous_ go out; where shall I find Mrs. _Patch_ +now. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh Mr. _Whisper_, my Lady saw you out at the Window, and +order'd me to bid you fly, and let your Master know she's now alone. + +_Whisp._ Hush, Speak softly; I go, go: But hark'e Mrs. _Patch_, shall +not you and I have a little Confabulation, when my Master and your Lady +is engag'd? + +_Patch._ Ay, Ay, Farewell. + (_Goes in, and shuts the Door._ + + _Re-enter Sir _Jealous Traffick_ meeting _Whisper_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Sure whil'st I was talking with Mr. _Tradewell_, I heard my +Door clap. (_Seeing _Whisper_._) Ha! a Man lurking about my House; who +do you want there, Sir? + +_Whisp._ Want--want, a pox, Sir _Jealous!_ what must I say now?-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, want; have you a Letter or Message for any Body +there?--O my Conscience, this is some He-Bawd-- + +_Whisp._ Letter or Message, Sir! + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, Letter or Message, Sir. + +_Whisp._ No, not I, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll have you set in the Stocks, if you +don't tell me your Business immediately. + +_Whisp._ Nay, Sir, my Business--is no great matter of Business neither; +and yet 'tis Business of Consequence too. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, don't trifle with me. + +_Whisp._ Trifle, Sir, have you found him, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ Found what, you Rascal. + +_Whisp._ Why _Trifle_ is the very Lap-Dog my Lady lost, Sir; I fancy'd I +see him run into this House. I'm glad you have him--Sir, my Lady will be +over-joy'd that 1 have found him. + +Sir _Jeal._ Who is your Lady Friend? + +_Whisp._ My Lady Love-puppy, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ My Lady Love-puppy! then prithee carry thy self to her, for +I know no other Whelp that belongs to her; and let me catch ye no more +Puppy-hunting about my Doors, lest I have you prest into the Service, +Sirrah. + +_Whisp._ By no means, Sir--Your humble Servant; I must watch whether he +goes, or no, before I can tell my Master. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ This Fellow has the Officious Leer of a Pimp; and I half +suspect a Design, but I'll be upon them before they think on me, I +warrant 'em. + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE __Charles_'s Lodging._ + + _Enter _Charles_ and _Marplot_._ + +_Char._ Honest _Marplot_, I thank thee for this Supply; I expect my +Lawyer with a Thousand Pound I have order'd him to take up, and then you +shall be Repaid. + +_Marpl._ Pho, pho, no more of that: Here comes Sir _George Airy_-- + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Cursedly out of Humour at his Disappointment; see how he looks! Ha, ha, +ha. + +Sir _Geo._ Ah, _Charles_, I am so humbled in my Pretensions to Plots +upon Women, that I believe I shall never have Courage enough to attempt +a Chamber-maid agen--I'll tell thee. + +_Char._ Ha, ha; I'll spare you the Relation by telling you--Impatient to +know your Business with my Father, when I saw you Enter, I slipt back +into the next Room, where I overheard every Syllable. + +Sir _Geo._ That I said--But I'll be hang'd if you heard her Answer--. +But prithee tell me, _Charles_, is she a Fool? + +_Char._ I ne'er suspected her for one; but _Marplot_ can inform you +better, if you'll allow him a Judge. + +_Marpl._ A Fool! I'll justifie she has more Wit than all the rest of her +Sex put together; why she'll Rally me, till I han't one word to say for +my self. + +_Char._ A mighty Proof of her Wit truly-- + +_Marpl._ There must be some Trick in't, Sir _George_; Egad I'll find it +out if it cost me the Sum you paid for't. + +Sir _Geo._ Do and Command me-- + +_Marpl._ Enough, let me alone to Trace a Secret.-- + + _Enter _Whisper_, and speaks aside to his Master._ + +The Devil! _Whisper_ here agen, that Fellow never speaks out; is this +the same, or a new Secret? Sir _George_, won't you ask _Charles_ what +News _Whisper_ brings? + +Sir _Geo._ Not I, Sir; I suppose it does not relate to me. + +_Marpl._ Lord, Lord, how little Curiosity some People have! Now my chief +Pleasure lies in knowing every Body's Business. + +Sir _Geo._ I fancy, _Charles_, thou hast some Engagement upon thy Hands: +I have a little Business too. _Marplot_, if it falls in your way to +bring me any Intelligence from _Miranda_, you'll find me at the Thatch'd +House at Six-- + +_Marpl._ You do me much Honour. + +_Char._ You guess right, Sir _George_, wish me Success. + +Sir _Geo._ Better than attended me. _Adieu_. + (_Exit._ + +_Char._ _Marplot_, you must Excuse me.-- + +_Marpl._ Nay, nay, what need of any Excuse amongst Friends! I'll go with +you. + +_Char._ Indeed you must not. + +_Marpl._ No, then I suppose 'tis a Duel, and I will go to secure ye. + +_Char._ Secure me, why you won't fight. + +_Marpl._ What then! I can call People to part ye. + +_Char._ Well, but it is no Duel, Consequently no Danger. Therefore +prithee be Answer'd. + +_Marpl._ What is't a Mistress then?--Mum--You know I can be silent upon +occasion. + +_Char._ I wish you cou'd be Civil too: I tell you, You neither Must nor +Shall go with me. Farewel. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Why then--I Must and Will follow you. + _Exit._ + + _The End of the Second Act._ + + + + +ACT the Third + + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +_Char._ Well, here's the House, which holds the Lovely Prize quiet and +serene; here no noisie Footmen throng to tell the World, that Beauty +dwells within; no Ceremonious Visit makes the Lover wait; no Rival to +give my Heart a Pang; who wou'd not scale the Window at Midnight without +fear of the Jealous Father's Pistol, rather than fill up the Train of a +Coquet, where every Minute he is jostled out of Place. (_Knocks +softly._) Mrs. _Patch_, Mrs. _Patch._ + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh, are you come, Sir? All's safe. + +_Char._ So in, in then. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ There he goes: Who the Devil lives here? Except I can find out +that, I am as far from knowing his Business as ever; gad I'll watch, it +may be a Bawdy-House, and he may have his Throat cut; if there shou'd be +any Mischief, I can make Oath, he went in. Well, _Charles_, in spight of +your Endeavour to keep me out of the Secret; I may save your Life, for +ought I know: At that Corner I'll plant my self; there I shall see +whoever goes in, or comes out. Gad, I love Discoveries. + _(Exit._ + + +SCENE _Draws. _Charles_, _Isabinda_, and _Patch_._ + +_Isab._ _Patch_, look out sharp; have a care of Dad. + +_Patch._ I warrant you. + _(Exit._ + +_Isab._ Well, Sir, if I may judge your Love by your Courage, I ought to +believe you sincere; for you venture into the Lyons Den when you come to +see me. + +_Char._ If you'd consent whilst the furious Beast is abroad, I'd free +you from the Reach of his Paws. + +_Isab._ That wou'd be but to avoid one Danger, by running into another; +like the poor Wretches, who fly the Burning Ship, and meet their Fate in +the Water. Come, come, _Charles_, I fear if I consult my Reason, +Confinement and Plenty is better than Liberty and Starving. I know you'd +make the Frolick pleasing for a little time, by Saying and Doing a World +of tender things; but when our small Substance is once Exhausted, and a +Thousand Requisits for Life are Wanting; Love, who rarely dwells with +Poverty, wou'd also fail us. + +_Char._ Faith, I fancy not; methinks my Heart has laid up a Stock will +last for Life; to back which, I have taken a Thousand Pound upon my +Uncle's Estate; that surely will support us, till one of our Fathers +relent. + +_Isab._ There's no trusting to that my Friend, I doubt your Father will +carry his Humour to the Grave, and mine till he sees me settled in +_Spain_. + +_Char._ And can ye then cruelly Resolve to stay till that curs'd _Don_ +arrives, and suffer that Youth, Beauty, Fire and Wit, to be sacrific'd +to the Arms of a dull _Spaniard_, to be Immur'd and forbid the Sight of +any thing that's Humane. + +_Isab._ No, when it comes to the Extremity, and no Stratagem can Relieve +us, thou shalt List for a Soldier, and I'll carry thy Knapsack after +thee. + +_Char._ Bravely Resolv'd; the World cannot be more Savage than our +Parents, and Fortune generally assists the Bold; therefore Consent now: +Why shou'd we put it to a future Hazard? who knows when we shall have +another Opportunity? + +_Isab._ Oh, you have your Ladder of Ropes, I suppose, and the Closet +Window stands just where it did; and if you han't forgot to write in +Characters, _Patch_ will find a way for our Assignations. Thus much of +the _Spanish_ Contrivance, my Father's Severity has taught me, I thank +him; tho' I hate the Nation, I admire their Management in these Affairs. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Oh, Madam, I see my Master coming up the Street. + +_Char._ Oh the Devil, wou'd I had my Ladder now; I thought you had not +expected him till Night; why, why, why, why; what shall I do, Madam? + +_Isab._ Oh, for Heaven's sake! don't go that way, you'll meet him full +in the Teeth: Oh unlucky Moment!-- + +_Char._ Adsheart, can you shut me into no Cupboard, Ram me into no +Chest, ha? + +_Patch._ Impossible, Sir, he Searches every Hole in the House. + +_Isab._ Undone for ever! if he sees you, I shall never see you more. + +_Patch._ I have thought on't: Run you to your Chamber, Madam; and Sir, +come you along with me, I'm certain you may easily get down from the +Balcone. + +_Char._ My Life, _Adieu_--Lead on, Guide. + (_Exit._ + +_Isab._ Heaven preserve him. + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE Changes to the Street. + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_, with _Marplot_ behind him_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I don't know what's the matter; but I have a strong +Suspicion, all is not right within; that Fellow's sauntring about my +Door, and his Tale of a Puppy, had the Face of a Lye, methought. By St. +_Jago_, if I shou'd find a Man in the House, I'd make Mince-Meat of +him-- + +_Marpl._ Ah, poor _Charles_--ha? Agad he is old--I fancy I might bully +him, and make _Charles_ have an Opinion of my Courage. + +Sir _Jeal._ My own Key shall let me in; I'll give them no Warning. + (_Feeling for his Key._ + +_Marpl._ What's that you say, Sir. (_Going up to Sir _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What's that to you, Sir. (_Turns quick upon him._ + +_Marpl._ Yes, 'tis to me, Sir; for the Gentleman you threaten is a very +honest Gentleman. Look to't, for if he comes not as safe out of your +House, as he went in, I have half a Dozen _Mirmidons_ hard-by shall beat +it about your Ears. + +Sir _Jeal._ Went in; what is he in then? Ah! a Combination to undo +me--I'll _Mirmidon_ you, ye Dog you--Thieves, Thieves. + (_Beat_'s Marplot_ all this while he cries _Thieves_._ + +_Marpl._ Murder, Murder; I was not in your House, Sir. + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ What's the matter, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ The Matter, Rascals? Have you let a Man into my House; but +I'll flea him Alive, follow me, I'll not leave a Mousehole unsearch'd; +if I find him, by St. _Jago_, I'll Equip him for the _Opera._ + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ A Duce of his Cane, there's no trusting to Age--what shall I do +to Relieve _Charles!_ Egad, I'll raise the Neighbourhood--Murder, +Murder-- (__Charles_ drops down upon him from the Balcone._) _Charles_ +faith I'm glad to see thee safe out, with all my Heart. + +_Char._ A Pox of your Bawling: How the Devil came you here? + +_Marpl._ Here, gad I have done you a piece of Service; I told the old +Thunderbolt, that the Gentleman that was gone in was-- + +_Char._ Was it you that told him, Sir? (_Laying hold of him._) Z'death, +I cou'd crush thee into Atoms. + (_Exit _Charles_._ + +_Marpl._ What will you choak me for my Kindness?--will my Enquiring Soul +never leave Searching into other Peoples Affairs, till it gets squeez'd +out of my Body? I dare not follow him now, for my Blood, he's in such a +Passion--I'll to _Miranda_; if I can discover ought that may oblige Sir +_George_, it may be a means to Reconcile me agen to _Charles_. + (_Exit._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ and _Servants_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Are you sure you have search'd every where? + +_Serv._ Yes, from the Top of the House to the Bottom. + +Sir _Jeal._ Under the Beds, and over the Beds? + +_Serv._ Yes, and in them too, but found no Body, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why, what cou'd this Rogue mean? + + _Enter _Isabinda_ and _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Take Courage, Madam, I saw him safe out. (_Aside to _Isab_._ + +_Isab._ Bless me! what's the matter, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ You know best--Pray where's the Man that was here just now? + +_Isab._ What Man, Sir? I saw none! + +_Patch._ Nor I, by the Trust you repose in me; do you think I wou'd let +a Man come within these Doors, when you were absent? + +Sir _Jeal._ Ah _Patch_, she may be too cunning for thy Honesty; the very +Scout that he had set to give Warning discover'd it to me--and +threaten'd me with half a Dozen _Mirmidons_--But I think I maul'd the +Villain. These Afflictions you draw upon me, Mistress! + +_Isab._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis your own Ridiculous Humour draws you into +these Vexations, and gives every Fool pretence to banter you. + +Sir _Jeal._ No, 'tis your Idle Conduct, your Coquetish Flurting into the +Balcone--Oh with what Joy shall I resign thee into the Arms of Don +_Diego Babinetto!_ + +_Isab._ And with what Industry shall I avoid him! + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Certainly that Rogue had a Message from some body or other; +but being baulk'd by my coming, popt that Sham upon me. Come along, ye +Sots, let's see if we can find the Dog again. _Patch_, lock her up; D'ye +hear? + (_Exit with Servants._ + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir--ay, walk till your Heels ake, you'll find no Body, I +promise you. + +_Isab._ Who cou'd that Scout be, which he talks of? + +_Patch._ Nay, I can't imagine, without it was _Whisper_. + +_Isab._ Well, dear _Patch_, let's employ all our Thoughts how to escape +this horrid Don _Diego_, my very Heart sinks at his Terrible Name. + +_Patch._ Fear not, Madam, Don _Carlo_ shall be the Man, or I'll lose the +Reputation of Contriving, and then what's a Chambermaid good for? + +_Isab._ Say'st thou so, my Girl: Then-- + _Let Dad be Jealous, multiply his Cares, + While Love instructs me to avoid the Snares; + I'll, spight of all his _Spanish_ Caution, show + How much for Love a _British_ Maid can do._ + (Exit. + + +SCENE _Sir _Francis Gripe_'s House._ + +_Sir _Francis_ and _Miranda_ meeting._ + +_Miran._ Well, _Gardee_, how did I perform my Dumb Scene? + +Sir _Fran._ To Admiration--Thou dear little Rogue, let me buss thee for +it: Nay, adod, I will, _Chargee_, so muzle, and tuzle, and hug thee; I +will, I faith, I will. + (_Hugging and Kissing her._ + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, don't be so lavish; who wou'd Ride Post, when +the Journey lasts for Life? + +Sir _Fran._ Ah wag, ah wag--I'll buss thee agen for that. + +_Miran._ Faugh! how he stinks of Tobacco! what a delicate Bedfellow I +shou'd have! + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Oh I'm Transported! When, when, my Dear, wilt thou Convince +the World of thy Happy Day? when shall we marry, ha? + +_Miran._ There's nothing wanting but your Consent, Sir _Francis_. + +Sir _Fran._ My Consent! what do's my Charmer mean? + +_Miran._ Nay, 'tis only a Whim: But I'll have every thing according to +form--Therefore when you sign an Authentick Paper, drawn up by an able +Lawyer, that I have your Leave to marry, the next Day makes me yours, +_Gardee_. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, a Whim indeed! why is it not Demonstration I +give my Leave when I marry thee. + +_Miran._ Not for your Reputation, _Gardee_; the malicious World will be +apt to say, you trick'd me into Marriage, and so take the Merit from my +Choice. Now I will have the Act my own, to let the idle Fops see how +much I prefer a Man loaded with Years and Wisdom. + +Sir _Fran._ Humph! Prithee leave out Years, _Chargee_, I'm not so old, +as thou shalt find: Adod, I'm young; there's a Caper for ye. + (_Jumps_. + +_Miran._ Oh never excuse it, why I like you the better for being +old--But I shall suspect you don't love me, if you Refuse me this +Formality. + +Sir _Fran._ Not Love thee, _Chargee!_ Adod I do love thee better than, +than, than, better than--what shall I say? Egad, better than Money, I +faith I do-- + +_Miran._ That's false I'm sure (_Aside._) To prove it do this then. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, I will do it, _Chargee_, provided I bring a License at +the same time. + +_Miran._ Ay, and a Parson too, if you please; Ha, ha, ha, I can't help +Laughing to think how all the young Coxcombs about Town will be +mortify'd when they hear of our Marriage. + +Sir _Fran._ So they will, so they will; Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ Well, I fancy I shall be so happy with my _Gardee!_ + +Sir _Fran._ If wearing Pearls and Jewels, or eating Gold, as the old +Saying is, can make thee happy, thou shalt be so, my Sweetest, my +Lovely, my Charming, my--verily I know not what to call thee. + +_Miran._ You must know, _Gardee_, that I am so eager to have this +Business concluded, that I have employ'd my Womans Brother, who is a +Lawyer in the _Temple_, to settle Matters just to your Liking, you are +to give your Consent to my Marriage, which is to your self, you know: +But Mum, you must take up notice of that. So then I will, that is, with +your Leave, put my Writings into his Hands; then to Morrow we come slap +upon them with a Wedding, that no body thought on; by which you seize me +and my Estate, and I suppose make a Bonfire of your own Act and Deed. + +Sir _Fran._ Nay, but _Chargee_, if-- + +_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, no Ifs--Have I refus'd three _Northern_ Lords, +two _British_ Peers, and half a score Knights, to have you put in your +Ifs?-- + +Sir _Fran._ So thou hast indeed, and I will trust to thy Management. Od, +I'm all of a Fire. + +_Miran._ 'Tis a wonder the dry Stubble does not blaze. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +Sir _Fran._ How now! who sent for you, Sir? What's the Hundred Pound +gone already? + +_Marpl._ No, Sir, I don't want Money now. + +Sir _Fran._ No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want, I'm +sure. + +_Marpl._ Ay, what's that, _Guardian?_ + +Sir _Fran._ Manners, what had I no Servants without? + +_Marpl._ None that cou'd do my Business, _Guardian_, which is at present +with this Lady. + +_Miran._ With me, Mr. _Marplot!_ what is it, I beseech you? + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, what is it? any thing that relates to her may be +deliver'd to me. + +_Marpl._ I deny that. + +_Miran._ That's more than I do, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Indeed, Madam, why then to proceed: Fame says, that you and my +most Conscionable _Guardian_ here, design'd, contriv'd, plotted and +agreed to chouse a very civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, out of a +Hundred Pound. + +_Miran._ That I contrived it! + +_Marpl._ Ay you--You said never a Word against it, so far you are +Guilty. + +Sir _Fran._ Pray tell that civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, that if +he has any more such Sums to fool away, they shall be received like the +last; Ha, ha, ha, ha, chous'd, quotha! But hark ye, let him know at the +same time, that if he dare to report I trick'd him of it, I shall +recommend a Lawyer to him shall shew him a Trick for twice as much; D'ye +hear, tell him that. + +_Marpl._ So, and this is the way you use a Gentleman, and my Friend. + +_Miran._ Is the Wretch thy Friend? + +_Marpl._ The Wretch! Look ye, Madam, don't call Names; Egad I won't take +it. + +_Miran._ Why you won't beat me, will you? Ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ I don't know whether I will or no. + +Sir _Fran._ Sir, I shall make a Servant shew you out at the Window if +you are sawcy. + +_Marpl._ I am your most humble Servant, _Guardian_; I design to go out +the same way I came in. I wou'd only ask this Lady, if she do's not +think in her Soul Sir _George Airy_ is not a fine Gentleman. + +_Miram._ He Dresses well. + +Sir _Fran._ Which is chiefly owing to his Taylor, and _Valet de +Chamber_. + +_Miran._ And if you allow that a proof of his being a fine Gentleman, he +is so. + +_Marpl._ The judicious part of the World allow him Wit, Courage, +Gallantry and Management; tho' I think he forfeited that Character, when +he flung away a Hundred Pound upon your Dumb Ladyship. + +Sir _Fran._ Does that gaul him? Ha, ha, ha. + +_Miran._ So, Sir _George_ remaining in deep Discontent, has sent you his +trusty Squire, to utter his Complaint: Ha, ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, value it +no more--than I wou'd your Ladyship, were I Sir _George_, you, you, +you-- + +_Miran._ Oh, don't call Names. I know you love to be employ'd, and I'll +oblige you; and you shall carry him a Message from me. + +_Marpl._ According as I like it: What is it? + +_Miran._ Nay, a kind one you may be sure--First tell him, I have chose +this Gentleman to have, and to hold, and so forth. + (_Clapping her Hand into Sir _Francis_'s._ + +Sir _Fran._ Oh the dear Rogue, how I dote on her! + (_Aside._ + +_Miran._ And advise his Impertinence to trouble me no more, for I prefer +Sir _Francis_ for a Husband before all the Fops in the Universe. + +_Marpl._ Oh Lord, Oh Lord! She's bewitch'd, that's certain; Here's a +Husband for Eighteen--Here's a Shape--Here's Bones ratling in a Leathern +Bag. (_Turning Sir _Francis_ about._) Here's Buckram, and Canvass, to +scrub you to Repentance. + +Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, my Cane shall teach you Repentance presently. + +_Marpl._ No faith, I have felt its Twin-Brother from just such a +wither'd Hand too lately. + +_Miran._ One thing more, advise him to keep from the Garden Gate on the +left Hand; for if he dares to saunter there, about the Hour of Eight, as +he used to do, he shall be saluted with a Pistol or a Blunderbuss. + +_Sir Fran._ Oh monstrous! why _Chargee_; did he use to come to the +Garden Gate? + +_Miran._ The Gardner describ'd just such another Man that always watch'd +his coming out, and fain wou'd have bribed him for his Entrance--tell +him he shall find a warm Reception if he comes this Night. + +_Marpl._ Pistols and Blunderbusses! Egad, a warm Reception indeed; I +shall take care to inform him of your Kindness, and advise him to keep +farther off. + +_Miran._ I hope he will understand my Meaning better, than to follow +your Advice. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Fran._ Thou hast sign'd, seal'd, and ta'en Possession of my Heart; +for ever, _Chargee_, Ha, ha, ha; and for you, Mr. Sauce-box, let me have +no more of your Messages, if ever you design to inherit your Estate, +Gentleman. + +_Marpl._ Why there 'tis now. Sure I shall be out of your Clutches one +Day.--Well, _Guardian_, I say no more; but if you be not as errant a +Cuckold, as e're drove Bargain upon the Exchange, or paid Attendance to +a Court; I am the Son of a Whetstone; and so your humble Servant. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ Don't forget the Message; Ha, ha. + +Sir _Fran._ I am so provok'd!--'tis well he's gone. + +_Miran._ Oh mind him not, _Gardee_, but let's sign Articles, and then-- + +Sir _Fran._ And then--Adod, I believe I am Metamorphos'd; my Pulse beats +high, and my Blood boils, methinks-- + (_Kissing and Hugging her._ + +_Miran._ Oh fye, _Gardee_, be not so violent; Consider the Market lasts +all the Year--Well, I'll in and see if the Lawyer be come, you'll +follow. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ay, to the World's End, my Dear. Well, _Franck_, thou art a +lucky Fellow in thy old Age, to have such a delicate Morsel, and Thirty +Thousand Pound in love with thee; I shall be the Envy of Batchelors, the +Glory of Marry'd Men, and the Wonder of the Town. Some Guardians wou'd +be glad to compound for part of the Estate, at dispatching an Heiress, +but I engross the whole: _O! Mihi praeteritos referet si Jupiter Annos._ + (Exit. + + +SCENE _Changes to a Tavern; discovers Sir _George_ and _Charles_ with +Wine before them, and _Whisper_ waiting._ + +Sir _Geo._ Nay, prithee don't be Grave, _Charles;_ Misfortunes will +happen: Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort to have a Companion in our +Sufferings. + +_Char._ I am only apprehensive for _Isabinda_, her Father's Humour is +implacable; and how far his Jealousie may transport him to her Undoing, +shocks my Soul to think. + +Sir _Geo._ But since you escap'd undiscover'd by him, his Rage will +quickly lash into a Calm, never fear it. + +_Char._ But who knows what that unlucky Dog, _Marplot_, told him; nor +can I imagine what brought him thither; that Fellow is ever doing +Mischief; and yet, to give him his due, he never designs it. This is +some Blundering Adventure, wherein he thought to shew his Friendship, as +he calls it: A Curse on him. + +Sir _Geo._ Then you must forgive him; what said he? + +_Char._ Said! nay, I had more mind to cut his Throat, than hear his +Excuses. + +Sir _Geo._ Where is he? + +_Whisp._ Sir, I saw him go into Sir _Francis Gripe_'s just now. + +_Char._ Oh! then he is upon your Business, Sir _George_; a thousand to +one, but he makes some Mistake there too. + +Sir _Geo._ Impossible, without he huffs the Lady, and makes Love to Sir +_Francis_. + + _Enter Drawer._ + +_Draw._ Mr. _Marplot_ is below, Gentlemen, and desires to know if he may +have Leave to wait upon ye. + +_Char._ How civil the Rogue is when he has done a fault! + +Sir _Geo._ Ho! Desire him to walk up. Prithee, _Charles_, throw off this +Chagreen, and be good Company. + +_Char._ Nay, hang him, I'm not angry with him. _Whisper_, fetch me Pen, +Ink and Paper. + +_Whisp._ Yes, Sir. + + (_Ex. _Whisp_._ + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Char._ Do but mark his sheepish Look, Sir _George_. + +_Marpl._ Dear _Charles,_ don't o'erwhelm a Man--already under +insupportable Affliction. I'm sure I always intend to serve my Friends; +but if my malicious Stars deny the Happiness, is the fault mine? + +Sir _Geo._ Never mind him, Mr. _Marplot_, he is eat up with Spleen. But +tell me, what says _Miranda?_ + +_Marpl._ Says--nay, we are all undone there too. + +_Char._ I told you so; nothing prospers that he undertakes. + +_Marpl._ Why can I help her having chose your Father for Better for +Worse? + +_Char._ So: There's another of Fortune's Strokes; I suppose I shall be +Edg'd out of my Estate, with Twins every Year, let who will get 'em. + +Sir _Geo._ What is the Woman really Possest? + +_Marpl._ Yes with the Spirit of Contradiction, she rail'd at you most +prodigiously. + +Sir _Geo._ That's no ill Sign. + + _Enter _Whisper_, with Pen, Ink and Paper._ + +_Marpl._ You'd say it was no good Sign, if you knew all. + +Sir _Geo._ Why, prithee? + +_Marpl._ Hark'e, Sir _George_, Let me warn you, pursue your old Haunt no +more, it may be dangerous. + (Charles _sits down to write._ + +Sir _Geo._ My old Haunt, what d'you mean? + +_Marpl._ Why in short then, since you will have it, _Miranda_ vows if +you dare approach the Garden-Gate at Eight a Clock, as you us'd, you +shall be saluted with a Blunderbuss, Sir. These were her Words; nay, she +bid me tell you so too. + +Sir _George_, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, as I us'd to do! There must +be a Meaning in this. Is there such a Gate, _Charles?_ + +_Char._ Yes, yes; it opens into the Park, I suppose her Ladyship has +made many a Scamper through it. + +Sir _Geo_. It must be an Assignation then. Ha, my Heart springs with +Joy, 'tis a propitious Omen. My dear _Marplot_, let me embrace thee, +thou art my Friend, my better Angel-- + +_Marpl._ What do you mean, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ No matter what I mean. Here take a Bumper to the Garden-Gate, +ye dear Rogue, you. + +_Marpl._ You have Reason to be transported, Sir _George_; I have sav'd +your Life. + +Sir _Geo_. My Life! thou hast sav'd my Soul, Man. _Charles_, if thou +do'st not pledge this Health, may'st thou never taste the Joys of Love. + +_Char._ _Whisper_, be sure you take care how you deliver this (_gives +him the Letter_) bring me the Answer to my Lodgings. + +_Whisp._ I warrant you, Sir. + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Whither does that Letter go?--Now dare I not ask for my Blood. + +_Char._ Now I'm for you. + +Sir _Geo._ To the Garden-Gate at the Hour of Eight, _Charles_, along, +Huzza! + +_Char._ I begin to conceive you. + +_Marpl._ That's more than I do, Egad--to the Garden-Gate, Huzza, +(_Drinks._) But I hope you design to keep far enough off on't, Sir +_George_. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, ay, never fear that; she shall see I despise her Frowns, +let her use her Blunderbuss against the next Fool, she shan't reach me +with the Smoak, I warrant her, Ha, ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Ah, _Charles_, if you cou'd receive a Disappointment thus _En +Cavalier_, one shou'd have some comfort in being beat for you. + +_Char._ The Fool comprehends nothing. + +Sir _Geo._ Nor wou'd I have him; prithee take him along with thee. + +_Char._ Enough: _Marplot_, you shall go home with me. + +_Marpl._ I'm glad I'm well with him however. Sir _George_, yours. Egad, +_Charles_, asking me to go home with him, gives me a shrewd suspicion +there's more in the Garden-Gate, than I comprehend. Faith, I'll give him +the drop, and away to _Guardians_, and find it out. + +Sir _Geo._ I kiss both your Hands--And now for the Garden-Gate. + + _It's Beauty gives the Assignation there,_ + _And Love too powerful grows t' admit of Fear._ + (_Exit._ + +_The End of the Third Act._ + + + + +ACT the Fourth. + +SCENE the Out-side of Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House, _Patch_ peeping +out of Door. + + + _Enter _Whisper_._ + +_Whisp._ Ha, Mrs. _Patch_, this is a lucky Minute, to find you so +readily, my Master dies with Impatience. + +_Patch._ My Lady imagin'd so, and by her Orders I have been scouting +this hour in search of you, to inform you that Sir _Jealous_ has invited +some Friends to Supper with him to Night, which gives an Opportunity to +your Master to make use of his Ladder of Ropes: The Closet Window shall +be open, and _Isabinda_ ready to receive him; bid him come immediately. + +_Whisp._ Excellent, He'll not disappoint I warrant him: But hold, I have +a Letter here, which I'm to carry an Answer of: I can't think what +Language the Direction is. + +_Patch._ Pho, 'tis no Language, but a Character which the Lovers +invented to avert Discovery: Ha, I hear my old Master coming down +Stairs, it is impossible you shou'd have an Answer; away, and bid him +come himself for that--begone we are ruined if you're seen, for he has +doubl'd his Care since the last Accident. + +_Whisp._ I go, I go. + [_Exit._ + +_Patch._ There, go thou into my Pocket. [_Puts it besides, and it falls +down._] Now I'll up the back Stairs, lest I meet him. Well, a dexterous +Chamber-maid is the Ladies best Utensil, I say. + [_Exit._ + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ with a Letter in his Hand._ + +Sir _Jeal._ So, this is some Comfort, this tells me that _Seignior Don +Diego Babinetto_ is safely arriv'd, he shall marry my Daughter the +Minute he comes, ha. What's here [_takes up the Letter _Patch_ drop'd_] +a Letter! I don't know what to make of the Superscription. I'll see +what's within side, [_opens it_] humph; 'tis _Hebrew_ I think. What can +this mean. There must be some trick in it; this was certainly design'd +for my Daughter, but I don't know that she can speak any Language but +her Mother-Tongue. No matter for that, this may be one of Love's +Hieroglyphicks, and I fancy I saw _Patch_'s Tail sweep by. That Wench +may be a Slut, and instead of guarding my Honour, betray it; I'll find +it out I'm resolv'd; who's there? What Answer did you bring from the +Gentlemen I sent you to invite? + +_Serv._ That they'd all wait of you, Sir, as I told you before, but I +suppose you forget, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did I so, Sir, but I shan't forget to break your Head, if +any of 'em come, Sir. + +_Serv._ Come, Sir, why did not you send me to desire their Company, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ But I send you now to desire their Absence; say I have +something extraordinary fallen out, which calls me abroad, contrary to +Expectation, and ask their Pardon, and d'ye hear, send the Butler to me. + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + [_Exit._ + + _Enter _Butler_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ If this Paper has a Meaning I'll find it. Lay the Cloath in +my Daughter's Chamber, and bid the Cook send Supper thither presently. + +_Butl._ Yes, Sir,--hey day, what's the Matter now? + [_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ He wants the Eyes of _Argus_, that has a young handsome +Daughter in this Town, but my Comfort is, I shall not be troubl'd long +with her. He that pretends to rule a Girl once in her Teens, had better +be at Sea in a Storm, and would be in less Danger. + _For let him do, or Counsel all he can,_ + _She thinks and dreams of nothing else but Man._ + [_Exit._ + + +SCENE _Isabinda_'s Chamber, _Isabinda_ and _Patch_. + +_Isab._ Are you sure, no Body saw you speak to _Whisper?_ + +_Patch._ Yes, very sure Madam, but I heard Sir _Jealous_ coming down +Stairs, so I clap'd this Letter into my Pocket. + (_Feels for the Letter._ + +_Isab._ A Letter! give it me quickly. + +_Patch._ Bless me! what's become on't--I'm sure I put it-- + (_Searching still._ + +_Isab._ Is it possible, thou could'st be so Careless--Oh! I'm undone for +ever if it be lost. + +_Patch._ I must have drop'd it upon the Stairs. But why are you so much +alarm'd, if the worst happens no body can read it, Madam, nor find out +whom it was design'd for. + +_Isab._ If it falls into my Father's Hands the very Figure of a Letter +will produce ill Consequences. Run and look for it upon the Stairs this +Moment. + +_Patch._ Nay, I'm sure it can be no where else.-- (_As she's going out +of the Door meets the Butler._) How now, what do you want? + +_Butl._ My Master order'd me to lay the Cloth here for his Supper. + +_Isab._ Ruin'd past Redemption-- + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ You mistake sure; what shall we do? + +_Isab._ I thought he expected Company to Night--Oh! poor _Charles_--Oh! +unfortunate _Isabinda_. + +_Butl._ I thought so too Madam, but I suppose he has alter'd his Mind. + (_Lays the Cloth, and Exit._ + +_Isab._ The Letter is the Cause; this heedless Action has undone me: Fly +and fasten the Closet-window, which will give _Charles_ notice to +retire. Ha, my Father, oh! Confusion. + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hold, hold, _Patch_, whither are you going. I'll have no +body stir out of the Room till after Supper. + +_Patch._ Sir, I was only going to reach your easie Chair--Oh! wretched +Accident! + +Sir _Jeal._ I'll have no body stir out of the Room. I don't want my +easie Chair. + +_Isab._ What will be the event of this? (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hark ye Daughter, do you know this Hand? + +_Isab._ As I suspected--Hand do you call it, Sir? 'Tis some School-boy's +Scraul. + +_Patch._ Oh! Invention, thou Chamber-maid's best Friend, assist me. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Are you sure you don't understand it? + +(_Patch._ _Feels in her Bosom, and shakes her Coats._) + +_Isab._ Do you understand it, Sir? + +Sir _Jeal._ I wish I did. + +_Isab._ Thank Heaven you do not. (_aside_) Then I know no more of it +than you do indeed, Sir. + +_Patch._ Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have you done, Sir? Why the Paper is +mine, I drop'd it out of my Bosom. + (_Snatching it from him._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! yours, Mistress. + +_Isab._ What does she mean by owning it. + (_Aside._ + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir, it is. + +Sir _Jeal._ What is it? Speak. + +_Patch._ Why, Sir, it is a Charm for the Tooth-ach--I have worn it this +seven Year, 'twas given me by an Angel for ought I know, when I was +raving with the Pain; for no body knew from whence he came, nor whither +he went, he charg'd me never to open it, lest some dire Vengeance befal +me, and Heaven knows what will be the Event. Oh! cruel Misfortune that I +should drop it, and you should open it--If you had not open'd it-- + +_Isab._ Excellent Wench. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Pox of your Charms, and Whims for me, if that be all 'tis +well enough; there, there, burn it, and I warrant you no Vengeance will +follow. + +_Patch._ So, all's right again thus far. + (_Aside._ + +_Isab._ I would not lose _Patch_ for the World--I'll take courage a +little. (_aside_) Is this Usage for your Daughter, Sir, must my Virtue +and Conduct be suspected? For every Trifle, you immure me like some dire +Offender here, and deny me all Recreations which my Sex enjoy, and the +Custom of the Country and Modesty allow; yet not content with that you +make my Confinement more intolerable by your Mistrusts and Jealousies; +wou'd I were dead, so I were free from this. + (_Weeps._ + +Sir _Jeal._ To morrow rids you of this tiresome Load,--_Don Diego +Babinetto_ will be here, and then my Care ends and his begins. + +_Isab._ Is he come then! Oh how shall I avoid this hated Marriage? + (_Aside._ + + _Enter Servants with Supper._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come will you sit down? + +_Isab._ I can't eat, Sir. + +_Patch._ No, I dare swear he has given her Supper enough. I wish I cou'd +get into the Closet-- + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Well, if you can't eat, then give me a Song whilst I do. + +_Isab._ I have such a Cold I can scarce speak, Sir, much less sing. How +shall I prevent _Charles_ coming in. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I hope you have the Use of your Fingers, Madam. Play a Tune +upon your _Spinnet_, whilst your Woman sings me a Song. + +_Patch._ I'm as much out of Tune as my Lady, if he knew all. + (_Aside._ + +_Isab._ I shall make excellent Musick. (_Sits down to play._ + +_Patch._ Really, Sir, I'm so frighted about your opening this Charm, +that I can't remember one Song. + +Sir _Jeal._ Pish, hang your Charm; come, come, sing any thing. + +_Patch._ Yes, I'm likely to sing truly (_aside_) humph, humph, bless me, +Sir, I cannot raise my Voice, my Heart pants so. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why, what does your Heart pant so that you can't play +neither? Pray what Key are you in, ha? + +_Patch._ Ah, wou'd the Key was turn'd of you once. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Why don't you sing, I say! + +_Patch._ When Madam has put her _Spinnet_ in Tune, Sir, humph, humph.-- + +_Isab._ I cannot play, Sir, whatever ails me. + (_Rising._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Zounds sit down, and play me a Tune, or I'll break the +_Spinnet_ about your Ears. + +_Isab._ What will become of me? + (_Sits down and plays._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come, Mistress. + (_To_ Patch + +_Patch._ Yes, Sir. + (_Sings, but horribly out of Tune._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hey, hey, why you are a top of the House, and you are down +in the Cellar. What is the meaning of this? Is it on purpose to cross +me, ha? + +_Patch._ Pray Madam, take it a little lower, I cannot reach that +Note--nor any Note I fear. + +_Isab._ Well, begin--Oh! _Patch_ we shall be discover'd. + +_Patch._ I sink with the Apprehension, Madam,--humph, humph-- (_Sings_) + + (__Charles_ pulls open the Closet Door._ + +_Char._ Musick and Singing + _'Tis thus the bright Coelestial Court above,_ + _Beguiles the Hours with Musick and with Love._ +Death! her Father there, (_The Women shriek_) then I must fly-- + (_Exit into the Closet_) + + (_Sir _Jealous_ rises up hastily, seeing _Charles_ slip back into + the Closet._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Hell and Furies, a Man in the Closet-- + +_Patch._ Ah! a Ghost, a Ghost--he must not enter the Closet-- + (Isabinda _throws her self down before the Closet-door as in + a Sound._ + +Sir _Jeal._ The Devil! I'll make a Ghost of him I warrant you. + (_Strives to get by._ + +_Patch._ Oh hold, Sir, have a care, you'l tread upon my Lady-- who waits +there? Bring some Water: Oh! this comes of your opening the Charm: Oh, +oh, oh, oh. + (_Weeps aloud._ + +Sir _Jeal._ I'll Charm you, House-wife, here lies the Charm, that +conjur'd this Fellow in I'm sure on't, come out you Rascal, do so: +Zounds take her from the Door, or I'll spurn her from it, and break your +Neck down Stairs. + +_Isab._ Oh, oh, where am I--He's gone, I heard him leap down. + (_Aside to _Patch_._ + +_Patch._ Nay, then let him enter--here, here Madam, smell to this; come +give me your Hand; come nearer to the Window, the Air will do you good. + +Sir _Jeal._ I wou'd she were in her Grave. Where are you, Sirrah, +Villain, Robber of my Honour; I'll pull you out of your Nest. + (_Goes into the Closet._ + +_Patch._ You'l be mistaken, old Gentleman, the Bird is flown. + +_Isab._ I'm glad I have 'scap'd so well. I was almost dead in earnest +with the Fright. + + _Re-enter Sir _Jealous_ out of the Closet._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Whoever the Dog were he has escap'd out of the Window, for +the Sash is up. But tho' he is got out of my Reach, you are not: And +first Mrs. _Pandor_, with your Charms for Tooth-ach, get out of my +House, go, troop; yet hold, stay, I'll see you out of my Doors my self, +but I'll secure your Charge e'er I go. + +_Isab._ What do you mean, Sir? Was she not a Creature of your own +providing? + +Sir _Jeal._ She was of the Devil's providing for ought I know. + +_Patch._ What have I done, Sir to merit your Displeasure? + +Sir _Jeal._ I don't know which of you have done it; but you shall both +suffer for it, till I can discover whose Guilt it is: Go get in there, +I'll move you from this side of the House (_Pushes _Isabinda_ in at the +other Door, and locks it; puts the Key in his Pocket._) I'll keep the +Key my self: I'll try what Ghost will get into that Room. And now +forsooth I'll wait on you down Stairs. + +_Patch._ Ah, my poor Lady--Down Stairs, Sir, but I won't go out, Sir, +till I have look'd up my Cloaths. + +Sir _Jeal._ If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou should'st +not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your Mistress is +marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that belongs to you; +but till then-- + (_Exit, pulling her out._ + +_Patch._ Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing. + + _Re-enter at the lower Door._ + +Sir _Jeal._ There, go, and, come no more within sight of my Habitation, +these three Days, I charge you. + (_Slaps the Door after her._ + +_Patch._ Did ever any Body see such an old Monster! + + _Enter _Charles_._ + +_Patch._ Oh! Mr. _Charles_ your Affairs and mine are in an ill Posture. + +_Char._ I am immur'd to the Frowns of Fortune: But what has befal'n +thee? + +_Patch._ Sir _Jealous_, whose suspicious Nature's always on the Watch; +nay, even whilst one Eye sleeps, the other keeps Sentinel: Upon sight of +you, flew into such a violent Passion, that I cou'd find no Stratagem to +appease him, but in spight of all Arguments, lock'd his Daughter into +his own Apartment, and turn'd me out of Doors. + +_Char._ Ha! oh, _Isabinda_. + +_Patch._ And swears she shall neither see Sun nor Moon, till she is _Don +Diego Babinetto_'s Wife, who arrived last Night, and is expected with +impatience. + +_Char._ He dies, yes, by all the Wrongs of Love he shall; here will I +plant my self, and thro' my Breast he shall make his Passage, if he +enters. + +_Patch._ A most heroick Resolution. There might be ways found out more +to your Advantage. Policy is often preferr'd to open force. + +_Char._ I apprehend you not. + +_Patch._ What think you of personating this _Spaniard_, imposing upon +the Father, and marrying your Mistress by his own Consent. + +_Char._ Say'st thou so my Angel! Oh cou'd that be done, my Life to come +wou'd be too short to recompence thee: But how can I do that, when I +neither know what Ship he came in, nor from what part of _Spain_; who +recommends him, nor how attended. + +_Patch._ I can solve all this. He is from _Madrid_, his Father's Name +_Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto_. Here's a Letter of his to Sir +_Jealous_, which he drop'd one Day; you understand _Spanish_, and the +Hand may be counterfeited: You conceive me, Sir. + +_Char._ My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll about +it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters. + + (_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE a Garden Gate open, _Scentwell_ waiting within. + + _Enter Sir _George Airy_._ + +Sir _Geo._ So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If there +shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my Fall +make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be +roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all. + +_Scentw._ Hist, hist, Sir _George Airy_-- + (_Enters._ + +Sir _Geo._ A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear. + +_Scentw._ No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, give me +your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Passage and dirty Step before +you arrive-- + +Sir _Geo._ I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore be quick +my charming Guide. + +_Scentw._ For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away. + +Sir _Geo._ Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my Desires. + + (_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE the House. + + _Enter _Miranda_._ + +_Miran._ Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now don't I +transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice of the +Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have marry'd +me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir _George_ is what +I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his Character, am satisfied +in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a hundred Pound only to +have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So I find my liking him +has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; and now the only +Doubt remains whether he will come or no. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight. + _Exit_ Scentwell. + +Sir _Geo._ And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose Idea +fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams! + +_Miran._ What beginning again in Heroicks!--Sir _George_, don't you +remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal Oration produced, not one +bare single Word in answer. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! the Voice of my _Incognita_--Why did you take Ten +Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had vanquish'd? + +_Miran._ Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but short, +and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that same +terrible Bugbear, _Matrimony_, without heartily Repenting on both sides. + +Sir _Geo._ It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes beheld ye. + +_Miran._ And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had Thirty +Thousand Pound. + +Sir _Geo._ Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd Minutes to run +the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that lovely Person +to my Arms. + +_Miran._ Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our Woing +has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the World +see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty-- + +Sir _Geo._ Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the envy'd +Pair-- + +_Miran._ Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to venture on +dangerous Experiments headlong--My _Guardian_, trusting to my dissembled +Love, has given up my Fortune to my own dispose; but with this +_Proviso_, that he to Morrow morning weds me. He is now gone to _Doctors +Commons_ for a License. + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, a License! + +_Miran._ But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him down to +_Epsom_, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of his, is to make him his +Executor; the thing on Earth he covets. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis his known Character. + +_Miran._ Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and he sends +me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can be +undeceiv'd. That time is ours. + +Sir _Geo._ Let us improve it then, and settle on our coming Years, +endless, endless Happiness. + +_Miran._ I dare not stir till I hear he's on the Road--then I and my +Writings, the most material point, are soon removed. + +Sir _Geo._ I have one Favour to ask, if it lies in your power, you wou'd +be a Friend to poor _Charles_, tho' the Son of this tenacious Man: He is +as free from all his Vices, as Nature and a good Education can make him; +and what now I have vanity enough to hope will induce you, he is the Man +on Earth I love. + +_Miran._ I never was his Enemy, and only put it on as it help'd my +Designs on his Father. If his Uncle's Estate ought to be in his +Possession, which I shrewdly suspect, I may do him a singular piece of +Service. + +Sir _Geo._ You are all Goodness. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. _Marplot_ are just coming into +the House. + +_Miran._ Undone, undone! if he finds you here in this Crisis, all my +Plots are unravell'd. + +Sir _Geo._ What shall I do! can't I get back into the Garden? + +_Scentw._ Oh, no! he comes up those Stairs. + +_Miran._ Here, here, here! can you condescend to stand behind this +Chimney-Board, Sir _George?_ + +Sir _Geo._ Any where, any where, dear Madam, without Ceremony. + +_Scentw._ Come, come, Sir; lie close-- + (_They put him behind the Chimney-Board._ + + _Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_: Sir _Francis_ peeling an Orange_._ + +Sir _Fran._ I cou'd not go, tho' 'tis upon Life and Death, without +taking leave of dear _Chargee_. Besides, this Fellow buz'd in my Ears, +that thou might'st be so desperate to shoot that wild Rake which haunts +the Garden-Gate; and that wou'd bring us into Trouble, dear-- + +_Miran._ So, _Marplot_ brought you back then: I am oblig'd to him for +that, I'm sure-- + (_Frowning at _Marplot_ aside._ + +_Marpl._ By her Looks she means she is not oblig'd to me. I have done +some Mischief now, but what I can't imagine. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, _Chargee_, I have had three Messengers to come to +_Epsom_ to my Neighbour _Squeezum_'s who, for all his vast Riches, is +departing. + (_Sighs._ + +_Marpl._ Ay, see what all you Usurers must come to. + +Sir _Fran._ Peace, ye young Knave! Some Forty Years hence I may think +on't--But, _Chargee_, I'll be with thee to Morrow, before those pretty +Eyes are open; I will, I will, _Chargee_, I'll rouze you, I saith.--Here +Mrs. _Scentwell_, lift up your Lady's Chimney-Board, that I may throw my +Peel in, and not litter her Chamber. + +_Miran._ Oh my Stars! what will become of us now? + +_Scentw._ Oh, pray Sir, give it me; I love it above all things in +Nature, indeed I do. + +Sir _Fran._ No, no, Hussy; you have the Green Pip already, I'll have no +more Apothecary's Bills. + (_Goes towards the Chimney._ + +_Miran._ Hold, hold, hold, dear _Gardee_, I have a, a, a, a, a Monkey +shut up there; and if you open it before the Man comes that is to tame +it, 'tis so wild 'twill break all my China, or get away, and that wou'd +break my Heart; for I am fond on't to Distraction, next thee, dear +_Gardee_. + (_In a flattering Tone._ + +Sir _Fran._ Well, well, _Chargee_, I wont open it; she shall have her +Monkey, poor Rogue; here throw this Peel out of the Window. + + (_Exit _Scentwell_._ + +_Marpl._ A Monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame a Monkey as +well as the best of them all. Oh how I love the little Minatures of Man. + +_Miran._ Be quiet, Mischief, and stand farther from the Chimney--You +shall not see my Monkey--why sure-- + (_Striving with him._ + +_Marpl._ For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, let me but peep, to see if it be +as pretty as my Lady _Fiddle-Faddle_'s. Has it got a Chain? + +_Miran._ Not yet, but I design it one shall last its Life-time: Nay, you +shall not see it--Look, _Gardee_, how he teazes me! + +Sir _Fran._ (_Getting between him and the Chimney._) Sirrah, Sirrah, let +my _Chargee_'s Monkey alone, or _Bambo_ shall fly about your Ears. What +is there no dealing with you? + +_Marpl._ Pugh, pox of the Monkey! here's a Rout: I wish he may Rival +you. + + _Enter a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, they put two more Horses in the Coach, as you order'd, and +'tis ready at the Door. + +Sir _Fran._ Well, I'm going to be Executor, better for thee, Jewel. B'ye +_Chargee_, one Buss!--I'm glad thou hast got a a Monkey to divert thee a +little. + +_Miran._ Thank'e, dear _Gardee_.--Nay, I'll see you to the Coach. + +Sir _Fran._ That's kind, adod. + +_Miran._ Come along, Impertinence. + (_To _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ (_Stepping back._) Egad, I will see the Monkey: Now (_Lifts up +the Board, and discovers Sir_ George_._) Oh Lord, Oh Lord! Thieves, +Thieves, Murder! + +Sir _Geo._ Dam'e, you unlucky Dog! 'tis I, which way shall I get out, +shew me instantly, or I'll cut your Throat. + +_Marpl._ Undone, undone! At that Door there. But hold, hold, break that +China, and I'll bring you off. + (_He runs off at the Corner, and throws down some China._ + + _Re-enter Sir _Francis_, _Miranda_, and _Scentwell_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! what's the matter? + +_Miran._ Oh, you Toad! what have you done? + +_Marpl._ No great harm, I beg of you to forgive me: Longing to see the +Monkey, I did but just raise up the Board, and it flew over my +Shoulders, scratch'd all my Face, broke yon' China, and whisk'd out of +the Window. + +Sir _Fran._ Was ever such an unlucky Rogue! Sirrah, I forbid you my +House. Call the Servants to get the Monkey again; I wou'd stay my self +to look it, but that you know my earnest Business. + +_Scentw._ Oh my Lady will be the best to lure it back; all them +Creatures love my Lady extremely. + +_Miran._ Go, go, dear _Gardee_; I hope I shall recover it. + +Sir _Fran._ B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! B'ye, +b'ye. + (_Exit._ + +_Miran._ _Scentwell_, see him in the Coach, and bring me word. + +_Scentw._ Yes, Madam. + +_Miran._ So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of Service, I +suppose. + +_Marpl._ Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank your +self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor none +more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when you +talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you talk'd +of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir _George?_ + +_Miran._ A sign you converse but little with our Sex, when you can't +reconcile Contradictions. + + _Enter _Scentwell_._ + +_Scentw._ He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can carry him. + + _Enter Sir _George_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Then I may appear. + +_Marpl._ Dear, Sir _George_, make my Peace! On my Soul, I did not think +of you. + +Sir _Geo._ I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to forgive him. + +_Miran._ Well, Sir _George_, if he can be secret. + +_Marpl._ Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm trusted. + +Sir _Geo._ Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at present. + +_Scentw._ Madam, here's Mrs. _Isabinda_'s Woman to wait on you. + +_Miran._ Bring her up. + + _Enter _Patch_._ + +How do'e, Mrs. _Patch_, what News from your Lady? + +_Patch._ That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir _George_, there's a +Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your Assistance. + +Sir _Geo._ His Name. + +_Patch._ _Charles._ + +_Marpl._ Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing of. I'll +wait on you, Sir _George_. + +Sir _Geo._ A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as I have +dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my Servant to +tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour. + +_Miran._ How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. _Patch?_ + +_Patch._ Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, but hope +to serve my Lady still. + +_Miran._ How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story within. + +_Patch._ With all my Heart, Madam. + +_Marpl._ Pish! Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I find +Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know what +_Charles_ wants him for. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friendship: This +Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make _Marplot_ of the Party? + +_Miran._ If you'll run the Hazard, Sir _George_; I believe he means +well. + +_Marpl._ Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: I'll +begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me. + (_Going._ + +Sir _Geo._ So now has he a mind to be gone to _Charles_: but not knowing +what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at present, I'm resolv'd he +sha'n't stir: No, Mr. _Marplot_, you must not leave us, we want a third +Person. + (_Takes hold of him._ + +_Marpl._ I never had more mind to be gone in my Life. + +_Miran._ Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your self for +taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board. + +_Sir_ Geo. + _That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,_ + _Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love._ + +The End of the Fourth ACT. + + + + +ACT the Fifth. + + + _Enter _Miranda_, _Patch_, and _Scentwell_._ + +_Miran._ Well, _Patch_, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is +determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence +and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance +of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no +Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to +one of my Age and Constitution. + +_Patch._ O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir _George +Airy_; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued +with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does +not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but +Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them +happy. + +_Miran._ I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd +bring my _Guardian_ back. _Scentwell_, put my best Jewels into the +little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir. +_Jealous_'s. + +_Scentw._ It shall be done, Madam. + (_Exit_ Scentwell. + +_Patch._ Sir _George_ will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot succeeds, +we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect us. +Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares. + +_Miran._ Farewell, old _Mammon_, and thy detested Walls; 'twill be no +more sweet Sir _Francis_, I shall be compell'd to the odious Task of +Dissembling no longer to get my own, and coax him with the wheedling +Names of my _Precious_, my _Dear_, dear _Gardee_. Oh Heavens! + + _Enter Sir _Francis_ behind._ + +Sir _Fran._ Ah, my sweet _Chargee_, don't be frighted. (_She starts._) +But thy poor _Gardee_ has been abused, cheated, fool'd, betray'd, but no +Body knows by whom. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) Undone! past Redemption. + +Sir _Fran._ What won't you speak to me, _Chargee!_ + +_Miran._ I'm so surpriz'd with Joy to see you, I know not what to say. + +Sir _Fran._ Poor, dear Girl! But do'e know that my Son, or some such +Rogue, to rob or murder me, or both, contriv'd this Journey? For upon +the Road I met my Neighbour _Squeezum_ well, and coming to Town. + +_Miran._ Good lack, good lack! what Tricks are there in this World! + + _Enter _Scentwell_, with a Diamond Necklace in her Hand; not seeing +Sir _Francis_._ + +_Scentw._ Madam, be pleas'd to tye this Neck-lace on; for I can't get it +into the-- (_Seeing Sir _Francis_._ + +_Miran._ The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou'd you not have carry'd it to +be mended, without putting it in the Box? + +Sir _Fran._ What's the matter? + +_Miran._ Only Dear'e, I bid her, I bid her--Your ill Usage has put every +thing out of my Head. But won't you go, _Gardee_, and find out these +Fellows, and have them punish'd! and, and-- + +Sir _Fran._ Where shou'd I look them, Child? No I'll sit me down +contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with +thee to a Parson. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) If he goes into his Closet I am ruin'd. Oh! bless me +in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. _Patch_. + +_Patch._ Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer. + +_Miran._ (_Aside._) I must get him out of the House. Now assist me +Fortune. + +Sir _Fran._ Mrs. _Patch_, I profess I did not see you, how dost thou do, +Mrs. _Patch_; well don't you repent leaving my _Chargee?_ + +_Patch._ Yes, every body must love her--but I came now--Madam, what did +I come for, my Invention is at the last Ebb. + (_Aside to _Miranda_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Nay, never Whisper, tell me. + +_Miran._ She came, dear _Gardee_ to invite me to her Lady's Wedding, and +you shall go with me _Gardee_, 'tis to be done this Moment to a +_Spanish_ Merchant; Old Sir _Jealous_ keeps on his Humour, the first +Minute he sees her, the next he marries her. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought the sight of Matrimony wou'd +tempt _Chargee_ to perform her Promise: There was a smile, there was a +consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a Million. Ods +precious, I am happier than the Great _Mogul_, the Emperour of _China_, +or all the Potentates that are not in Wars. Speak, confirm it, make me +leap out of my Skin. + +_Miran._ When one has resolv'd, 'tis in vain to stand shall I, shall I, +if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day. + +Sir _Fran._ Oh! happy, happy Man--Verily I will beget a Son, the first +Night shall disinherit that Dog, _Charles_. I have Estate enough to +purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole Family of the +Gripes. + +_Miran._ Come then _Gardee_, give me thy Hand, let's to this House +of _Hymen_. + _My Choice is fix'd, let good or ill betide,_ + +Sir _Fran._ + _The joyful Bridegroom, I_ + +_Miran._ + _And I the happy Bride._ + + (Exeunt. + + + _Enter Sir _Jealous_ meeting a Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, here's a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one of 'em +calls himself _Seignor Diego Babinetto_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! _Seignor Babinetto!_ Admit 'em instantly--Joyful Minute; +I'll have my Daughter marry'd to Night. + + _Enter _Charles_ in _Spanish_ Habit, with Sir _George_ drest like a +Merchant._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Senior, beso Las Manos vuestra merced es muy bien venido en +esta tierra. + +_Char._ Senhor, soy muy humilde, y muy obligado Cryado de vuestra +merced: Mi Padre Embia a vuestra merced, los mas profondos de sus +respetos; y a Commissionado este Mercadel Ingles, de concluyr un +negocio, que me Haze el mas dichoso hombre del mundo, Haziendo me su +yerno. + +Sir _Jeal._ I am glad on't, for I find I have lost much of my _Spanish_. +Sir, I am your most humble Servant. _Seignor Don Diego Babinetto_ has +inform'd me that you are Commission'd by _Seignor Don Pedro_, &c. his +worthy Father. + +Sir _Geo._ To see an Affair of Marriage Consummated between a Daughter +of yours, and _Seignor Diego Babinetto_ his Son here. True, Sir, such a +Trust is repos'd in me as that Letter will inform you. I hope 'twill +pass upon him. + (_Aside._) + (_Gives him a Letter._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, 'tis his Hand. + (_Seems to read._ + +Sir _Geo._ Good ---- you have counterfeited to a Nicety, _Charles._ + (_Aside to _Charles_._ + +_Char._ If the whole Plot succeeds as well, I'm happy. + +Sir _Jeal._ Sir I find by this, that you are a Man of Honour and +Probity; I think, Sir, he calls you _Meanwell_. + +Sir _Geo._ _Meanwell_ is my Name, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ A very good Name, and very Significant. + +_Char._ Yes, Faith if he knew all. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ For to Mean-well is to be honest, and to be honest is the +Virtue of a Friend, and a Friend is the Delight and Support of Human +Society. + +Sir _Geo._ You shall find that I'll Discharge the part of a Friend in +what I have undertaken, Sir _Jealous_. + +_Char._ But little does he think to whom. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Therefore, Sir, I must intreat the Presence of your fair +Daughter, and the Assistance of your Chaplain; for _Seignor Don Pedro_ +strictly enjoyn'd me to see the Marriage Rites perform'd as soon as we +should arrive, to avoid the Accidental Overtures of _Venus_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Overtures of _Venus!_ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, Sir, that is, those little Hawking Females that traverse +the Park, and the Play-house to put off their damag'd Ware--they fasten +upon Foreigners like Leeches, and watch their Arrival as carefully, as +the _Kentish_ Men do a Ship-wreck. I warrant you they have heard of him +already. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I know this Town swarms with them. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, and then you know the _Spaniards_ are naturally Amorous, +but very Constant, the first Face fixes 'em, and it may be dangerous to +let him ramble e'er he is tied. + +_Char._ Well hinted. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Pat to my Purpose--Well, Sir, there is but one thing more, +and they shall be married instantly. + +_Char._ Pray Heaven, that one thing more don't spoil all. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ _Don Pedro_ writ me Word in his last but one, that he +design'd the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for my +Daughter; and that it shou'd be paid into my Hand upon the Day of +Marriage. + +_Char._ Oh! the Devil. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case she +should become a Widow, and return for _England_. + +Sir _Geo._ Pox on't, this is an unlucky Turn. What shall I say? + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ And he does not mention one Word of it in this Letter. + +_Char._ I don't know how he should. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Humph! True, Sir _Jealous_, he told me such a Thing, but, +but, but, but--he, he, he, he--he did not imagine that you would insist +upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you know is dangerous +returning by Sea, an, an, an, an-- + +_Char._ Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities. + (_Aside to Sir_ George. + +Sir _Geo._ And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, _Tobacco_, +_Sugars_, _Spices_, _Limons_, and so forth, which shall be turn'd into +Money with all Expedition: In the mean time, Sir, if you please to +accept of my Bond for Performance. + +Sir _Jeal._ It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas'd with the Countenance of +_Seignor Diego_, and the Harmony of your Name, that I'll take your Word, +and will fetch my Daughter this Moment. Within there (_Enter Servant_) +desire Mr. _Tackum_ my Neighbour's Chaplain to walk hither. + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + (_Exit._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Gentlemen, I'll return in an Instant. + (_Exit._ + +_Char._ Wondrous well. Let me embrace thee. + +Sir _Geo._ Egad that 5000 _l._ had like to have ruin'd the Plot. + +_Char._ But that's over! And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in our way. + +Sir _Geo._ Thou'lt carry the Prize--but hist, here he comes. + + _Enter Sir _ Jealous_, dragging in _Isabinda_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come along. + +_Isab._ + Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word, + Do not destroy my everlasting Peace; + My Soul abhors this _Spaniard_ you have chose + Nor can I wed him without being curst. + +Sir _Jeal._ How's that! + +_Isab._ + Let this Posture move your tender Nature. (_Kneels._ + For ever will I hang upon these Knees; + Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold, + If you refuse to hear me, Sir. + +_Char._ Oh! that I cou'd discover my self to her. + (_Aside_ + +Sir _Geo._ Have a care what you do. You had better trust to his +Obstinacy. + (_Aside_ + +Sir _Jeal._ Did you ever see such a perverse Slut: Off I say Mr. +_Meanwell_ pray help me a little. + +Sir _Geo._ Rise, Madam, and do not disoblige your Father, who has +provided a Husband worthy of you, one that will Love you equal with his +Soul, and one that you will Love, when once you know him. + +_Isab._ Oh! never, never. Cou'd I suspect that Falshood in my Heart, I +wou'd this Moment tear it from my Breast, and streight present him with +the Treacherous Part. + +_Char._ Oh! my charming faithful Dear. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Falshood! why, who the Devil are you in Love with? Ha! Don't +provoke me, for by St. _Jago_ I shall beat you, Housewife. + +_Char._ Heaven forbid; for I shall infallibly discover my self if he +should. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Have Patience, Madam! and look at him: Why will you +prepossess your self against a Man that is Master of all the Charms you +would desire in a Husband? + +Sir _Jeal._ Ay, look at him, _Isabinda_, _Senior pase vind adelante._ + +_Char._ My Heart bleeds to see her grieve, whom I imagin'd would with +Joy receive me. _Seniora obligue me vuestra merced de sumano._ + +Sir _Jeal._ (_Pulling up her Head._) Hold up your Head, hold up your +Head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a properer, handsomer, better +shap'd Fellow in _England_, ye Jade you. Ha! see, see the obstinate +Baggage shuts her Eyes; by St. _Jago_, I have a good Mind to beat 'em +out. + (_Pushes her down._ + +_Isab._ + Do then, Sir, kill me, kill me instantly. + 'Tis much the kinder Action of the Two, + For 'twill be worse than Death to wed him. + +Sir _Geo._ Sir _Jealous_, you are too passionate. Give me leave, I'll +try by gentle Words to work her to your Purpose. + +Sir _Jeal._ I pray do, Mr. _Meanwell_, I pray do; she'll break my Heart. +(_weeps_) There is in that, Jewels of the Value of 3000 _l._ which were +her Mother's; and a Paper wherein I have settled one half of my Estate +upon her now, and the whole when I dye. But provided she marries this +Gentleman, else by St. _Jago_, I'll turn her out of Doors to beg or +starve. Tell her this, Mr. _Meanwell_, pray do. + (_Walks off._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! this is beyond Expectation--Trust to me, Sir, I'll lay +the dangerous Consequence of disobeying you at this Juncture before her, +I warrant you. + +_Char._ A sudden Joy runs thro' my Heart like a propitious Omen. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ Come, Madam, do not blindly cast your Life away just in the +Moment you would wish to have it. + +_Isab._ Pray cease your Trouble, Sir, I have no Wish but sudden Death to +free me from this hated _Spaniard_. If you are his Friend inform him +what I say; my Heart is given to another Youth, whom I love with the +same strength of Passion that I hate this _Diego_; with whom, if I am +forc'd to wed, my own Hand shall cut the Gordian Knot. + +Sir _Geo._ Suppose this _Spaniard_ which you strive to shun should be +the very Man to whom you'd flye? + +_Isab._ Ha! + +Sir _Geo._ Would you not blame your rash Result, and curse those Eyes +that would not look on _Charles_. + +_Isab._ On _Charles!_ Oh you have inspir'd new Life, and collected every +wandring Sense. Where is he? Oh! let me flye into his Arms. + (_Rises._ + +Sir _Geo._ Hold, hold, hold, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll ruin all, your +Father believes him to be _Seignor Barbinetto_. Compose your self a +little, pray Madam. + (_He runs to Sir _Jealous_._ + +_Char._ Her Eyes declare she knows me. + (_Aside._ + +Sir _Geo._ She begins to hear Reason, Sir, the fear of being turn'd out +of Doors has done it. + (_Runs back to_ Isabinda. + +_Isab._ 'Tis he, oh! my ravish'd Soul. + +Sir _Geo._ Take heed, Madam, you don't betray your self. Seem with +Reluctance to consent, or you are undone, (_runs to Sir _Jealous_._) +speak gently to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll yield, I see it in her Face. + +Sir _Jeal._ Well, _Isabinda_, can you refuse to bless a Father, whose +only Care is to make you happy, as Mr. _Meanwell_ has inform'd you. +Come, wipe thy Eyes; nay, prithee do, or thou wilt break thy Father's +Heart; see thou bring'st the Tears in mine to think of thy undutiful +Carriage to me. + (_Weeps._ + +_Isab._ Oh! do not weep, Sir, your Tears are like a Ponyard to my Soul; +do with me what you please, I am all Obedience. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha! then thou art my Child agen. + +Sir _Geo._ 'Tis done, and now Friend the Day's thy own. + +_Char._ The happiest of my Life, if nothing Intervene. + +Sir _Jeal._ And wilt thou love him? + +_Isab._ I will endeavour it, Sir. + + _Enter Servant._ + +_Serv._ Sir, Here is Mr. _Tackum_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Show him into the Parlour--_Senior tome vind sueipora; cete +Momenta les Junta les Manos._ + (_Gives her to_ Charles. + +_Char._ Oh! transport--_Senior yo la recibo Como se deve un Tesoro tan +Grande._ Oh! my Joy, my Life, my Soul. + (_Embrace._ + +_Isab._ My Faithful everlasting Comfort. + +Sir _Jeal._ Now, Mr. _Meanwell_ let's to the Parson, + _Who, by his Art will join this Pair for Life,_ + _Make me the happiest Father, her the happiest Wife._ + (_Exit._ + + +SCENE Changes to the Street before Sir _Jealous_'s Door. + + _Enter _Marplot_, Solus._ + +_Marpl._ I have hunted all over the Town for _Charles_, but can't find +him; and by _Whisper_'s scouting at the End of the Street, I suspect he +must be in this House again. I'm inform'd too that he has borrow'd a +_Spanish_ Habit out of the _Play-house_. What can it mean? + + _Enter a Servant of Sir _Jealous_'s to him, out of the House._ + +Hark'e, Sir, do you belong to this House? + +_Serv._ Yes, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in _Spanish_ +Habit? + +_Serv._ There is a _Spanish_ Gentleman within, that is just a going to +marry my young Lady, Sir. + +_Marpl._ Are you sure he is a _Spanish_ Gentleman? + +_Serv._ I'm sure he speaks no _English_, that I hear of. + +_Marpl._ Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an _English_ Gentleman, +tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a _Spaniard_, that I enquire +after. + +_Serv._ Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform my +Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. +(_Aside._) Pray, come in, Sir, and see if this be the Person you enquire +for. + + +SCENE Changes to the Inside the House. + + _Enter _Marplot_._ + +_Marpl._ So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be _Charles_, now will +he wonder how I found him out. + + _Enter Servant and _Jealous_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you must +speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this? + +_Serv._ Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in _Spanish_ +Habit, he says. + +Sir _Jeal._ In _Spanish_ Habit! 'tis some Friend of Seignior _Don +Diego_'s, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak with Seignior +_Barbinetto_-- + +_Marpl._ Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!--Sir, I don't +understand you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Don't you understand _Spanish_, Sir? + +_Marpl._ Not I indeed, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ I thought you had known Seignior _Barbinetto_. + +_Marpl._ Not I, upon my word, Sir. + +Sir _Jeal._ What then you'd speak with his Friend, the _English_ +Merchant, Mr. _Meanwell_. + +_Marpl._ Neither, Sir; not I. + +Sir _Jeal._ Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want? + (_In an angry Tone._ + +_Marpl._ Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I were out, +he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you in my +House? ha? + +_Serv._ You said you wanted a Gentleman in _Spanish_ Habit. + +_Marpl._ Why ay, but his Name is neither _Barbinetto_ nor _Meanwell_. + +Sir _Jeal._ What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you agen, I +believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen +_Mirmidons_--Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, or-- + +_Marpl._ A terrible old Dog!--Why, Sir, only an honest young Fellow of +my Acquaintance--I thought that here might be a Ball, and that he might +have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis _Charles_, Sir _Francis Gripe_'s +Son, because I know he us'd to come hither sometimes. + +Sir _Jeal._ Did he so?--Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray Heaven that +this be Don _Diego_--If I shou'd be trick'd now--Ha! my Heart misgives +me plaguily--within there! stop the Marriage--Run, Sirrah, call all my +Servants! I'll be satisfy'd that this is Seignior _Pedro_'s Son e're he +has my Daughter. + +_Marpl._ Ha, Sir _George_, what have I done now ? + + _Enter Sir _George_ with a drawn Sword between the Scenes._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ha! _Marplot_, here--Oh the unlucky Dog--what's the matter, +Sir _Jealous?_ + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr._Meanwell_. + +_Marpl._ Upon my Soul, Sir _George_-- + (_Going up to Sir _Geo.__ + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, Traytors, +Rogues! (_Offers to go in._) Stop the Marriage, I say-- + +Sir _Geo._ I say, go on Mr._Tackum_--Nay, no Ent'ring here, I guard this +Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both your own, and I'll +see 'em sign'd, or die for't. + + _Enter Servants._ + +Sir _Jeal._ A pox on the Act and Deed!--Fall on, knock him down. + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you. + (_Beats _Marplot_._ + +Sir _Geo._ Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha. + +_Marpl._ Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your Daughter. + +Sir _Jeal._ Rascals! why don't you knock him down? + +_Serv._ We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that from him, +we'll knock him down presently. + + _Enter _Charles_ and _Isabinda_._ + +Sir _Jeal._ Seize her then. + +_Char._ Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, I'll make +Dogs meat of you. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ah! downright _English_:--Oh, oh, oh, oh! + + _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Mirand_, _Patch_, _Scentwell_, + and _Whisper_._ + +Sir _Fran._ Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! I think +'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir _Jealous_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Oh Sir _Francis!_ are you come? What was this your +Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child! + +Sir _Fran._ My Contrivance! what do you mean? + +Sir _Jeal._ No, you don't know your Son there in _Spanish_ Habit. + +Sir _Fran._ How! my Son in _Spanish_ Habit. Sirrah, you'll come to be +hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight. + +Sir _Jeal._ Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; let's +see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on. + +Sir _Fran._ Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny of +mine--and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir +_Jealous_. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: But +look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is my +Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her +Body. + +Sir _Geo._ Lawfully begotten by me--I shall be extremely oblig'd to you, +Sir _Francis_. + +Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George!_ You see your Project was +of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach? Ha, ha, +ha. + +Sir _Geo._ No faith, Sir _Francis_, this Lady has given me a Cordial for +that. + (_Takes her by the Hand._ + +Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady. + +Sir _Geo._ Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir. + +Sir _Fran._ Wife, Sir! + +_Miran._ Ay really, _Guardian_, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my +first Offence. + +Sir _Fran._ What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your +Writings then, Mistress, ha? + +_Miran._ Out of nothing but my own, _Guardian_. + +Sir _Jeal._ Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort at least to see you are +over-reach'd as well as my self. Will you settle your Estate upon your +Son now? + +Sir _Fran._ He shall starve first. + +_Miran._ That I have taken care to prevent. There, Sir, is the Writings +of your Uncle's _Estate_, which has been your due these three Years. + (_Gives _Char._ Papers._ + +_Char._ I shall study to deserve this Favour. + +Sir _Fran._ What have you robb'd me too, Mistress! Egad I'll make you +restore 'em.--Huswife, I will so. + +Sir _Jeal._ Take care I don't make you pay the Arrears, Sir. 'Tis well +it's no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young Man, seeing thou hast +out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both. + +_Char._ I hope, Sir, you'll bestow your Blessing too, 'tis all I'll ask. + (_Kneels._ + +Sir _Fran._ Confound you all! + (_Exit._ + +_Marpl._ Mercy upon us! how he looks! + +Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ne'er mind his Curses, _Charles_; thou'lt thrive not +one jot the worse for 'em. Since this Gentleman is reconcil'd, we are +all made happy. + +Sir _Jeal._ I always lov'd Precaution, and took care to avoid Dangers. +But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be easie. + +_Char._ Which is the true sign of a great Soul: I lov'd your Daughter, +and she me, and you shall have no reason to repent her Choice. + +_Isab._ You will not blame me, Sir, for loving my own Country best. + +_Marpl._ So here's every Body happy, I find, but poor _Pilgarlick_. I +wonder what Satisfaction I shall have, for being cuff'd, kick'd, and +beaten in your Service. + +Sir _Jeal._ I have been a little too familiar with you, as things are +fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive me. + +_Marpl._ Egad I think so--But provided that you be not so familiar for +the future. + +Sir _Geo._ Thou hast been an unlucky Rogue. + +_Marpl._ But very honest. + +_Char._ That I'll vouch for; and freely forgive thee. + +Sir _Geo._ And I'll do you one piece of Service more, _Marplot_, I'll +take care that Sir _Francis_ make you Master of your Estate. + +_Marpl._ That will make me as happy as any of you. + +_Patch._ Your humble Servant begs leave to remind you, Madam. + +_Isab._ Sir, I hope you'll give me leave to take _Patch_ into favour +again. + +Sir _Jeal._ Nay, let your Husband look to that, I have done with my +Care. + +_Char._ Her own Liberty shall always oblige me. Here's no Body but +honest _Whisper_ and Mrs. _Scentwell_ to be provided for now. It shall +be left to their Choice to Marry, or keep their Services. + +_Whisp._ Nay then, I'll stick to my Master. + +_Scentw._ Coxcomb! and I prefer my Lady before a Footman. + +Sir _Jeal._ Hark, I hear Musick, the Fidlers smell a Wedding. What say +you, young Fellows, will ye have a Dance? + +Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart; call'em in. + + +A DANCE. + + +Sir _Jeal._ Now let us in and refresh our selves with a chearful Glass, +in which we'll bury all Animosities: And + + _By my Example let all Parents move, + And never strive to cross their Childrens Love; + But still submit that Care to Providence above._ + + +FINIS + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + + + The Editors of THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + + are pleased to announce that + + THE WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY + of The University of California, Los Angeles + +will become the publisher of the Augustan Reprints in May, 1949. The +editorial policy of the Society will continue unchanged. As in the past, +the editors will strive to furnish members inexpensive reprints of rare +seventeenth and eighteenth century works. + + +Publications for the fourth year (1949-1950) + +[Transcriber's Note: +Many of the listed titles are or will be available from Project +Gutenberg. Where possible, the e-text number is given in brackets.] + +(_At least six items will be printed in the main from the following +list_) + + +SERIES IV: MEN, MANNERS, AND CRITICS + +John Dryden, _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681) [#15074] +Daniel Defoe (?), _Vindication of the Press_ (1718) [#14084] +_Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_ (1754) + + +SERIES V: DRAMA + +Thomas Southerne, _Oroonoko_ (1696) +Mrs. Centlivre, _The Busie Body_ (1709) +Charles Johnson, _Caelia_ (1733) +Charles Macklin, _Man of the World_ (1781) [#14463] + + +SERIES VI: POETRY AND LANGUAGE + +Andre Dacier, _Essay on Lyric Poetry_ +_Poems_ by Thomas Sprat +_Poems_ by the Earl of Dorset +Samuel Johnson, _Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749), and one of the 1750 + _Rambler_ papers. [#13350] + + +EXTRA SERIES: + +Lewis Theobald, _Preface to Shakespeare's Works_ (1733) [#16346] + +A few copies of the early publications of the Society are still +available at the original rate. + + + + +GENERAL EDITORS + +H. RICHARD ARCHER, _William Andrews Clark Memorial Library_ +R.C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ +E.N. HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ +H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_ + + + + +PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY + + +First Year (1946-1947) + + 1. Richard Blackmore's _Essay upon Wit_ (1716), and Addison's + _Freeholder_ No. 45 (1716). (I, 1) [#13484] + + 2. Samuel Cobb's _Of Poetry_ and _Discourse on Criticism_ (1707). + (II, 1) [#14528] + + 3. _Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage_ (1698), and Richard + Willis' _Occasional Paper No. IX_ (1698). (III, 1) [#14047] + + 4. _Essay on Wit_ (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and + Joseph Warton's _Adventurer_ Nos. 127 and 133. (I, 2) [#14973] + + 5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and + _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693). (II, 2) + + 6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704) + and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704). (III, 2) [#15656] + + +Second Year (1947-1948) + + 7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit + from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702). (I, 3) [#14800] + + 8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684). (II, 3) + [#14495] + + 9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736). + (III, 3) [#14899] + +10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, + etc._ (1744). (I, 4) [#16233] + +11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717). (II, 4) [#15313] + +12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood + Krutch. (III, 4) [#16335] + + +Third Year (1948-1949) + +13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720). (IV, 1) [#15999] + +14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753). (V, 1) [#16267] + +15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_ + (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ (1712). + (VI, 1) + +16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673). (V, 2) [_in preparation_] + +17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear_ + (1709). (Extra Series, 1) [#16275] + +18. Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_; and Thomas Brereton's + Preface to _Esther_. (IV, 2) [#15870] + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + +[Errors and Anomalies Noted by Transcriber: + +Introduction (1949): + it is unreasonable to expect... + _text reads_ is it... + +Dedication: + Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most / Honourable Privy-Council. + _so in original_ + +Act I + Ad I long to know their Secrets. + _The word "ad" with related forms ("adod") occurs several times + in the play_ + + Sir _Jealousie Traffick_ + The name occurs twice in this form. + +Act II + _Enter _Mirand_._ + _The name occurs in this form four times: twice where the full form + _Miranda_ is expected, twice in place of its usual abbreviation + _Miran._ + + Sir _Geo._ Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me + _reading "a" uncertain_ + +Act II scene iii + (_Beat_'s Marplot_ all this while he cries _Thieves_._ + _punctuation and typography as in original_ + +Act II scene iv + Sir _Fran._ No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want... + _text reads_ one thing you wan't + + _Miran._ The Gardner describ'd just such another Man + _text gives two consecutive lines to Marplot_ + +Act IV scene ii + (Isabinda _throws her self down before the Closet-door as in a Sound._ + _so in original_: swound? + +Act IV scene iv + _Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_ + _text reads_ Marplott + +Act V scene iv + Changes to the Inside the House. + _so in original_ + +Act V final scene + Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart; call'em in. + _text reads_ with all my ] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Busie Body, by Susanna Centlivre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSIE BODY *** + +***** This file should be named 16740.txt or 16740.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/4/16740/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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. 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