[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.