_The Gallery in Lady Bountiful's House_.
_Enter Archer and Scrub singing, and hugging one
another, the latter with a tankard in his hand
Gipsy listening at a distance_.
_Scrub_. _Tall, all, dall!_--Come, my dear boy, let 's have
that song once more.
_Arch_. No, no, we shall disturb the family.--But will you
be sure to keep the secret?
_Scrub_. Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gentleman.
_Arch_. 'Tis enough. You must know, then, that my master
is the Lord Viscount Aimwell; he fought a duel
t' other day in London, wounded his man so dangerously,
that he thinks fit to withdraw till he hears
whether the gentleman's wounds be mortal or not
He never was in this part of England before, so he
chose to retire to this place, that's all. {12}
_Gip_. And that's enough for me. [_Exit_.
_Scrub_. And where were you when your master
fought?
_Arch_. We never know of our masters' quarrels.
_Scrub_. No! if our masters in the country here receive
a challenge, the first thing they do is to tell their
wives; the wife tells the servants, the servants
alarm the tenants, and in half an hour you shall
have the whole county in arms. {21}
_Arch_. To hinder two men from doing what they have
no mind for.--But if you should chance to talk now
of my business?
Scrub. Talk! ay, sir, had I not learned the knack of
holding my tongue, I had never lived so long in a
great family.
_Arch_. Ay, ay, to be sure there are secrets in all families.
_Scrub_. Secrets! ay;--but I 'll say no more. Come, sit
down, we 'll make an end of our tankard: here--
[_Gives Archer the tankard_.
_Arch_. With all my heart; who knows but you and I
may come to be better acquainted, eh? Here's
your ladies' healths; you have three, I think, and to
be sure there must be secrets among 'em. [_Drinks_.
_Scrub_. Secrets! ay, friend.--I wish I had a friend!
_Arch_. Am not I your friend? come, you and I will
sworn brothers.
_Scrub_. Shall we?
_Arch_.. From this minute. Give me a kiss:--and no
brother Scrub--
_Scrub_. And now, brother Martin, I will tell you a secret
that will make your hair stand on end. You must
know that I am consumedly in love.
_Arch_. That's a terrible secret, that's the truth on't
_Scrub_. That jade, Gipsy, that was with us just now in
the cellar, is the arrantest whore that ever wore a
petticoat; and I 'm dying for love of her.
_Arch_. Ha! ha! ha!--Are you in love with her person
her virtue, brother Scrub?
_Scrub_. I should like virtue best, because it is more
durable than beauty: for virtue holds good with
some women long, and many a day after they have
lost it.
_Arch_. In the country, I grant ye, where no woman's
virtue is lost, till a bastard be found.
_Scrub_. Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, I should have
her all to myself; but I dare not put it upon, the
lay, for fear of being sent for a soldier. Pray
brother, how do you gentlemen in London like this
same Pressing Act?
_Arch_. Very ill, brother Scrub; 'tis the worst that ever
was made for us. Formerly I remember the good
days, when we could dun our masters for our wage
and if they refused to pay us, we could have a
warrant to carry 'em before a Justice: but now if
we talk of eating, they have a warrant for us, and
carry us before three Justices.
_Scrub_. And to be sure we go, if we talk of eating; for
the Justices won't give their own servants a bad
example. Now this is my misfortune--I dare not
speak in the house, while that jade Gipsy dings
about like a fury.---Once I had the better end of the
staff.
_Arch_. And how comes the change now?
_Scrub_. Why, the mother of all this mischief is a priest.
_Arch_. A priest!
_Scrub_. Ay, a damned son of a whore of Babylon, that
came over hither to say grace to the French officers,
and eat up our provisions. There's not a day goes
over his head without a dinner or supper in this house.
_Arch_. How came he so familiar in the family? {81}
_Scrub_. Because he speaks English as if he had lived
here all his life, and tells lies as if he had been a
traveller from his cradle.
_Arch_. And this priest, I'm afraid, has converted the
affections of your Gipsy?
_Scrub_. Converted! ay, and perverted, my dear friend:
for, I 'm afraid, he has made her a whore and a
papist! But this is not all; there's the French
count and Mrs. Sullen, they 're in the confederacy,
and for some private ends of their own, to be sure.
_Arch_. A very hopeful family yours, brother Scrub!
suppose the maiden lady has her lover too?
_Scrub_. Not that I know: she's the best on 'em, that's
the truth on't: but they take care to prevent my
curiosity, by giving me so much business, that I'm
a perfect slave. What d' ye think is my place in
this family?
_Arch_. Butler, I suppose. 99
_Scrub_. Ah, Lord help you! I 'll tell you. Of a Monday
I drive the coach, of a Tuesday I drive the plough,
on Wednesday I follow the hounds, a Thursday I
dun the tenants, on Friday I go to market, on Saturday
I draw warrants, and a Sunday I draw beer.
_Arch_. Ha! ha! ha! if variety be a pleasure in life, you
have enough on't, my dear brother. But what
ladies are those?
_Scrub_. Ours, ours; that upon the right hand is Mrs.
Sullen, and the other is Mrs. Dorinda. Don't mind
'em; sit still, man. {110}
_Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda_.
_Mrs. Sul_. I have heard my brother talk of my Lord
Aimwell; but they say that his brother is the
finer gentleman.
_Dor_. That's impossible, sister.
_Mrs. Sul_. He's vastly rich, but very close, they say.
_Dor_. No matter for that; if I can creep into his heart,
I 'll open his breast, I warrant him: I have heard
say, that people may be guessed at by the behaviour
of their servants; I could wish we might talk to
that fellow. {120}
_Mrs. Sul_. So do I; for I think he 's a very pretty
fellow. Come this way, I'll throw out a lure for
him presently.
[_Dorinda and Mrs. Sullen walk a turn towards
the opposite side of the stage_.
_Arch_. [_Aside_.] Corn, wine, and oil indeed!--But, I
think, the wife has the greatest plenty of flesh and
blood; she should be my choice.--Ay, ay, say you
so!--[_Mrs. Sullen drops her glove. Archer runs,
takes it up and gives to her_.] Madam--your ladyship's
glove.
_Mrs. Sul_. O sir, I thank you!--[To Dorinda.] What
a handsome bow the fellow has! {131}
_Dor_. Bow! why, I have known several footmen come
down from London set up here for dancing-masters,
and carry off the best fortunes in the country.
_Arch_. [_Aside_.] That project, for aught I know, had been
better than ours.--[_To Scrub_.] Brother Scrub, why
don't you introduce me?
_Scrub_. Ladies, this is the strange gentleman's servant
that you saw at church to-day; I understood he
came from London, and so I invited him to the
cellar, that he might show me the newest flourish in
whetting my knives. {142}
_Dor_. And I hope you have made much of him?
_Arch_. Oh yes, madam, but the strength of your lady
ship's liquor is a little too potent for the constitution
of your humble servant.
_Mrs. Sul_. What, then you don't usually drink ale?
_Arch_. No, madam; my constant drink is tea, or a little
wine and water. 'Tis prescribed me by the physician
for a remedy against the spleen. {150}
_Scrub_. Oh la! Oh la! a footman have the spleen!
_Mrs. Sul_. I thought that distemper had been only
proper to people of quality?
_Arch_. Madam, like all other fashions it wears Out, and
so descends to their servants; though in a great
many of us, I believe, it proceeds from some
melancholy particles in the blood, occasioned by
the stagnation of wages.
_Dor_. [_Aside to Mrs. Sullen_.] How affectedly the fello*
talks!--[_To Archer_.] How long, pray, have yon
served your present master? {161}
_Arch_. Not long; my life has been mostly spent in the
service of the ladies.
_Mrs. Sul_. And pray, which service do you like best?
_Arch_. Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour of
serving them is sufficient wages; there is a charm in
their looks that delivers a pleasure with their commands,
and gives our duty the wings of inclination.
_Mrs. Sul_. [_Aside_.] That flight was above the pitch of a
livery.--[_Aloud_.] And, sir, would not you be satisfied
to serve a lady again? {171}
_Arch_. As a groom of the chamber, madam, but not as a
footman.
_Mrs. Sul_. I suppose you served as footman before?
_Arch_. For that reason I would not serve in that post
again; for my memory is too weak for the load of
messages that the ladies lay upon their servants in
London. My Lady Howd'ye, the last mistress I
served, called me up one morning, and told me,
'Martin, go to my Lady Allnight with my humble
service; tell her I was to wait on her ladyship
yesterday, and left word with Mrs. Rebecca, that
the preliminaries of the affair she knows of, are
stopped till we know the concurrence of the person
that I know of, for which there are circumstances
wanting which we shall accommodate at the old
place; but that in the meantime there is a person
about her ladyship, that from several hints and
surmises, was accessory at a certain time to the
disappointments that naturally attend things, that
to her knowledge are of more importance--' {191}
_Mrs. Sul_., _Dor_. Ha! ha! ha! where are you going, sir?
_Arch_. Why, I han't half done!--The whole howd'ye was
about half an hour long; so I happened to misplace
two syllables, and was turned off, and rendered incapable.
_Dor_. [_Aside to Mrs. Sullen_.] The pleasantest fellow,
sister, I ever saw!--[_To Archer_.] But, friend, if your
master be married, I presume you still serve a lady?
_Arch_. No, madam, I take care never to come into a
married family; the commands of the master and
mistress are always so contrary, that 'tis impossible
to please both. {203}
_Dor_. There's a main point gained: my lord is not
married, I find. [_Aside_.
_Mrs. Sul_. But I wonder, friend, that in so many good
services, you had not a better provision made for
you.
_Arch_. I don't know how, madam. I had a lieutenancy
offered me three or four times; but that is not bread,
madam--I live much better as I do. {211}
_Scrub_. Madam, he sings rarely! I was thought to do
pretty well here in the country till he came; but
alack a day, I 'm nothing to my brother Martin!
_Dor_. Does he?--Pray, sir, will you oblige us with a
song?
_Arch_. Are you for passion or humour?
_Scrub_. Oh le! he has the purest ballad about a trifle--
_Mrs. Sul_. A trifle! pray, sir, let's have it.
_Arch_. I 'm ashamed to offer you a trifle, madam; but
since you command me-- {221}
[_Sings to the tune of Sir Simon the King_]
A trifling song you shall hear,
Begun with a trifle and ended:
All trifling people draw near,
And I shall be nobly attended.
Were it not for trifles, a few,
That lately have come into play;
The men would want something to do,
And the women want something to say.
What makes men trifle in dressing? {235}
Because the ladies (they know)
Admire, by often possessing,
That eminent trifle, a beau.
When the lover his moments has trifled,
The trifle of trifles to gain:
No sooner the virgin is rifled,
But a trifle shall part 'em again.
What mortal man would be able
At White's half an hour to sit?
Or who could bear a tea-table, {240}
Without talking of trifles for wit?
The court is from trifles secure,
Gold keys are no trifles, we see:
White rods are no trifles, I 'm sure,
Whatever their bearers may be.
But if you will go to the place,
Where trifles abundantly breed,
The levee will show you His Grace
Makes promises trifles indeed.
A coach with six footmen behind, {250}
I count neither trifle nor sin:
But, ye gods! how oft do we find
A scandalous trifle within.
A flask of champagne, people think it
A trifle, or something as bad:
But if you 'll contrive how to drink it;
You 'll find it no trifle, egad!
A parson's a trifle at sea,
A widow's a trifle in sorrow:
A peace is a trifle to-day, {260}
Who knows what may happen to-morrow!
A black coat a trifle may cloke,
Or to hide it, the red may endeavour:
But if once the army is broke,
We shall have more trifles than ever.
The stage is a trifle, they say,
The reason, pray carry along,
Because at every new play,
The house they with trifles so throng.
But with people's malice to trifle, {270}
And to set us all on a foot:
The author of this is a trifle,
And his song is a trifle to boot.
_Mrs. Sul_. Very well, sir, we 're obliged to you.--
Something for a pair of gloves. [_Offering him money_.
_Arch_. I humbly beg leave to be excused: my master,
madam, pays me; nor dare I take money from any
other hand, without injuring his honour, and
disobeying his commands. [_Exit Archer and Scrub_.
_Dor_. This is surprising! Did you ever see so pretty a
well-bred fellow? {281}
_Mrs. Sul_. The devil take him for wearing that livery!
_Dor_. I fancy, sister, he may be some gentleman, a friend
of my lord's, that his lordship has pitched upon for
his courage, fidelity, and discretion, to bear him
company in this dress, and who ten to one was his
second too.
_Mrs. Sul_. It is so, it must be so, and it shall be so!--
for I like him.
_Dor_. What! better than the Count? {290}
_Mrs. Sul_. The Count happened to be the most agreeable
man upon the place; and so I chose him to serve
me in my design upon my husband. But I should
like this fellow better in a design upon myself.
_Dor_. But now, sister, for an interview with this lord and
this gentleman; how shall we bring that about?
_Mrs. Sul_. Patience! you country ladies give no quarter
if once you be entered. Would you prevent their
desires, and give the fellows no wishing-time?
Look'ee, Dorinda, if my Lord Aimwell loves you or
deserves you, he'll find a way to see you, and there
we must leave it. My business comes now upon
the tapis. Have you prepared your brother? {303}
_Dor_. Yes, yes.
_Mrs. Sul_. And how did he relish it?
_Dor_. He said little, mumbled something to himself,
promised to be guided by me--but here he comes.
_Enter Squire Sullen_.
_Squire Sul_. What singing was that I heard just now?
_Mrs. Sul_. The singing in your head, my dear; you
complained of it all day. {310}
_Squire Sul_. You're impertinent
_Mrs. Sul_. I was ever so, since I became one flesh with
you.
_Squire Sul_. One flesh! rather two carcasses joined
unnaturally together.
_Mrs. Sul_. Or rather a living soul coupled to a dead
body.
_Dor_. So, this is fine encouragement for me!
_Squire Sul_. Yes, my wife shows you what you must do.
_Mrs. Sul_. And my husband shows you what you must
suffer. {321}
_Squire Sul_. 'Sdeath, why can't you be silent?
_Mrs. Sul_. 'Sdeath, why can't you talk?
_Squire Sul_. Do you talk to any purpose?
_Mrs. Sul_. Do you think to any purpose?
_Squire Sul_. Sister, hark'ee I--[_Whispers_.] I shan't be
home till it be late. [_Exit_.
_Mrs. Sul_. What did he whisper to ye? {328}
_Dor_. That he would go round the back way, come into
the closet, and listen as I directed him. But let
me beg you once more, dear sister, to drop this
project; for as I told you before, instead of awaking
him to kindness, you may provoke him to a rage;
and then who knows how far his brutality may carry
him?
_Mrs. Sul_. I 'm provided to receive him, I warrant you.
But here comes the Count: vanish! [_Exit Dorinda_.
_Enter Count Bellair_.
Don't you wonder, Monsieur le Count, that I was
not at church this afternoon? {339}
_Count Bel_. I more wonder, madam, that you go dere at
all, or how you dare to lift those eyes to heaven that
are guilty of so much killing.
_Mrs. Sul_. If Heaven, sir, has given to my eyes with the
power of killing the virtue of making a cure, I hope
the one may atone for the other.
_Count Bel_. Oh, largely, madam, would your ladyship be
as ready to apply the remedy as to give the wound.
Consider, madam, I am doubly a prisoner; first to
the arms of your general, then to your more conquering
eyes. My first chains are easy--there a
ransom may redeem me; but from your fetters I
never shall get free. {352}
_Mrs. Sul_. Alas, sir! why should you complain to me
of your captivity, who am in chains myself? You
know, sir, that I am bound, nay, must be tied up in
that particular that might give you ease: I am like
you, a prisoner of war--of war, indeed--I have
given my parole of honour! would you break yours
to gain your liberty? {359}
_Count Bel_. Most certainly I would, were I a prisoner
among the Turks; dis is your case, you 're a slave,
madam, slave to the worst of Turks, a husband.
_Mrs. Sul_. There lies my foible, I confess; no fortifications,
no courage, conduct, nor vigilancy, can pretend
to defend a place where the cruelty of the governor
forces the garrison to mutiny.
_Count Bel_. And where de besieger is resolved to die
before de place.--Here will I fix [_Kneels_];--with
tears, vows, and prayers assault your heart and
never rise till you surrender; or if I must storm--
Love and St. Michael!--And so I begin the
attack. {372}
_Mrs. Sul_. Stand off!--[_Aside_.] Sure he hears me not!
--And I could almost wish--he did not!--The
fellow makes love very prettily.--[_Aloud_.] But, sir,
why should you put such a value upon my person,
when you see it despised by one that knows it so
much better?
_Count Bel_. He knows it not, though he possesses it; if
he but knew the value of the jewel he is master of
he would always wear it next his heart, and sleep
with it in his arms. {382}
_Mrs. Sul_. But since he throws me unregarded from
him--
_Count Bel_. And one that knows your value well comes
by and takes you up, is it not justice?
[_Goes to lay hold of her_.
_Enter Squire Sullen with his sword drawn_.
_Squire Sul_. Hold, villain, hold!
_Mrs. Sul_. [_Presenting a pistol_.] Do you hold!
_Squire Sul_. What! murder your husband, to defend
your bully! {390}
_Mrs. Sul_. Bully! for shame, Mr. Sullen, bullies wear
long swords, the gentleman has none; he's a
prisoner, you know. I was aware of your outrage,
and prepared this to receive your violence; and, if
occasion were, to preserve myself against the force
of this other gentleman.
_Count Bel_. O madam, your eyes be bettre firearms than
your pistol; they nevre miss.
_Squire Sul_. What! court my wife to my face!
_Mrs. Sul_. Pray, Mr. Sullen, put up; suspend your fury
for a minute. {401}
_Squire Sul_. To give you time to invent an excuse!
_Mrs. Sul_. I need none.
_Squire Sul_. No, for I heard every syllable of your
discourse.
_Count Bel_. Ah! and begar, I tink the dialogue was vera
pretty.
_Mrs. Sul_. Then I suppose, sir, you heard something of
your own barbarity?
_Squire Sul_. Barbarity! 'oons, what does the woman call
barbarity? Do I ever meddle with you? {411}
_Mrs. Sul_. No.
_Squire Sul_. As for you, sir, I shall take another time.
_Count Bel_. Ah, begar, and so must I.
_Squire Sul_. Look'ee, madam, don't think that my anger
proceeds from any concern I have for your honour,
but for my own, and if you can contrive any way of
being a whore without making me a cuckold, do it
and welcome. {419}
_Mrs. Sul_. Sir, I thank you kindly, you would allow me
the sin but rob me of the pleasure. No, no, I 'm
resolved never to venture upon the crime without
the satisfaction of seeing you punished for't.
_Squire Sul_. Then will you grant me this, my dear?
Let anybody else do you the favour but that
Frenchman, for I mortally hate his whole generation.
[_Exit_.
_Count Bel_. Ah, sir, that be ungrateful, for begar, I love
some of yours.--Madam------ [_Approaching her_.
_Mrs. Sul_. No, sir. {429}
_Count Bel_. No, sir! garzoon, madam, I am not your
husband.
_Mrs. Sul_. 'Tis time to undeceive you, sir. I believed
your addresses to me were no more than an amusement,
and I hope you will think the same of my
complaisance; and to convince you that you ought,
you must know that I brought you hither only
to make you instrumental in setting me right with
my husband, for he was planted to listen by my
appointment.
_Count Bel_. By your appointment? {440}
_Mrs. Sul_. Certainly.
_Count Bel_. And so, madam, while I was telling twenty
stories to part you from your husband, begar, I was
bringing you together all the while?
_Mrs. Sul_. I ask your pardon, sir, but I hope this will
give you a taste of the virtue of the English ladies.
_Count Bel_. Begar, madam, your virtue be vera great,
but garzoon, your honeste be vera little.
_Re-enter Dorinda_.
_Mrs. Sul_. Nay, now, you 're angry, sir. {449}
_Count Bel_. Angry!--_Fair Dorinda [Sings 'Fair
Dorinda,' the opera tune, and addresses Dorinda._]
Madam, when your ladyship want a fool, send for me.
_Fair Dorinda, Revenge, etc, [Exit singing_.
_Mrs. Sul_. There goes the true humour of his nation--
resentment with good manners, and the height of
anger in a song! Well, sister, you must be judge,
for you have heard the trial.
_Dor_. And I bring in my brother guilty.
_Mrs. Sul_. But I must bear the punishment. Tis hard,
sister. {460}
_Dor_. I own it; but you must have patience.
_Mrs. Sul_. Patience! the cant of custom--Providence
sends no evil without a remedy. Should I lie
groaning under a yoke I can shake off, I were
accessory to my ruin, and my patience were no
better than self-murder.
_Dor_. But how can you shake off the yoke? your divisions
don't come within the reach of the law for a divorce.
_Mrs. Sul_. Law! what law can search into the remote
abyss of nature? what evidence can prove the
unaccountable disaffections of wedlock? Can a jury
sum up the endless aversions that are rooted in our
souls, or can a bench give judgment upon antipathies? {474}
_Dor_. They never pretended, sister; they never meddle,
but in case of uncleanness.
_Mrs. Sul_. Uncleanness! O sister! casual violation is
a transient injury, and may possibly be repaired, but
can radical hatreds be ever reconciled? No, no,
sister, nature is the first lawgiver, and when she has
set tempers opposite, not all the golden links of
wedlock nor iron manacles of law can keep 'em
fast.
Wedlock we own ordain'd by Heaven's decree,
But such as Heaven ordain'd it first to be;--
Concurring tempers in the man and wife
As mutual helps to draw the load of life.
View all the works of Providence above,
The stars with harmony and concord move;
View all the works of Providence below, {490}
The fire, the water, earth and air, we know,
All in one plant agree to make it grow.
Must man, the chiefest work of art divine,
Be doom'd in endless discord to repine?
No, we should injure Heaven by that surmise,
Omnipotence is just, were man but wise.
[_Exeunt_.