_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 ]