Sca. Nay, let me alone with him. Gripe. That I will never forgive him, dead or alive. Sca. Very good. Gripe. And that if ever I light on him, I'll murder him privately, and feed dogs with him. [He puts up his purse and is going away. Sca. Right, sir. Gripe. Now, make haste, and go and redeem my son. Sca. Ay; butdy'e hear, sir? where's the money? Gripe. Did I not give it thee. Sca. Indeed, sir, you made me believe you would, but you forgot, and put it in your pocket again. Gripe. Ah-my griefs and fears fot my son make me do I know not what! Sca. Ay, sir; I see it does indeed. Gripe. What a devil did he do a shipboard? damned pirate! damned renegade! all the devils in hell pursue thee! [Exit. Sca. How easily a miser swallows a load, and how difficultly he disgorges a grain! but I'll not leave him so; he's like to pay in other coin, for telling tales of me to his son. ACT III. SCENE I. Enter LUCIA and CLARA. Luc. Was ever such a trick played, for us to run away from our governesses, where our careful fathers had placed us, to follow a couple of young gentlemen, only because they said they loved us? I think 'twas a very noble enterprize! I am afraid the good fortune, we shall get will very hardly recompense the reputation we have lost by it. Cla. Our greatest satisfaction is, that they are men of fashion and credit; and, for my part, I long ago resolved not to marry any other, nor such an one either, till I had a perfect confirmation of his love; and 'twas an assurance of Octavian's that brought me hither. Luc. I must confess, I had no less a sense of the faith and honour of Leander. Clar. But seems it not wonderful, that the circumstances of our fortune should be so nearly allied, and ourselves so much strangers? Besides, If I mistake not, I see something in Leander, so much resembling a brother of mine of the same name, that, did not the time since I saw him make me fearful, I should be often apt to call him so. Luc. I have a brother too, whose name's Octavian, bred in Italy, and just as my father took his voyage, returned home; not knowing where to find me, I believe is the reason I have not seen him yet. But if I deceive not myself, there is something in your Octavian that ex. tremely refreshes my memory of him. Cla. I wish we might be so happy as we are inclined to hope; but there's a strange blind side in our natures, which always makes us apt to believe, what we most earnestly desire. Luc. The worst, at last, is but to be forsaken by our fathers: and, for my part, I had rather lose an old father than a young lover, when I may with reputation keep him, and secure myself against the imposition of fatherly authority. Cla. How unsufferable is it to be sacrificed to the arms of a nauseous blockhead, that has no other sense than to eat and drink, when 'tis provided for him, rise in the morning, and go to bed at night, and with much ado be persuaded to keep himself clean! Luc. A thing of mere flesh and blood, and that of the worst sort too, with a squinting meagre hang-dog countenance, that looks as if he always wanted physic for the worms. Cla. Yet such their silly parents are generally most indulgent to; like apes, never so well pleased as when they are fondling with their ugly issue. Luc. Twenty to one, but to some such charming creatures our careful fathers had designed us! Cla. Parents think they do their daughters the greatest kindness in the world, when they get them fools for their husbands; and yet are very apt to take it ill, if they make the right use of them. Luc. I'd no more be bound to spend my days in marriage to a fool, because I might rule him, than I would always ride an ass, because the creature was gentle. Cla. See, here's Scapin, as full of designs and affairs, as a callow statesman at a treaty of peace. Enter SCAPIN. Sca, Ladies! Cla. Oh, monsieur Scapin! What's the reason you have been such a stranger of late? Sca. Faith, ladies, business, business has taken up my time; and truly I love an active life, love my business extremely. Luc. Methinks though, this should be a difficult place for a man of your excellencies to find empoyment in. Sca. Why faith, madam, I'm never shy to my friends: my business is, in short, like that of all other men of business, diligently contriving how to play the knave, and cheat to get an honest livelihood. Cla. Certainly men of wit and parts need never be driven to indirect courses. Sca. Oh, madam! wit and honesty, like oil and vinegar, with much ado mingle together, give a relish to a good fortune, and pass well enough far sauce, but are very thin fare of themselves. No, give me your knave, your thoroughpaced knave; hang his wit, so he be but enough. rogue Luc. You're grown very much out of humour with wit, Scapin; I hope your's has done you no prejudice of late? Šca. No madam; your men of wit are good for nothing, dull, lazy, restive snails; 'tis your undertaking, impudent, pushing fool, that commands his fortune. Cla. You are very open and plain in this proceeding, whatever you are in others. Sca. Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex (I speak all this with respect to your ladyship), is generally most indulgent to the nimble mettled blockheads; men of wit are not for her turn, ever too thoughtful when they should be active: Why, who believes any man of wit to have so much as courage? No, ladies, if yo've any friends that hope to raise themselves, advise them to be as much fools as they can, and they'll never want patrons: and for honesty, if your ladyship think fit to retire a little further, you shall see me perform upon a gentleman that's coming this way. Cla. Prithee, Lucia, let us retreat a little, and take this opportunity of some divertisement, which has been very scarce here hitherto. Enter SHIFT, with a Sack. Sca. Difficulties in adventures, make them pleasant whem accomplished. Shift. But your adventures, how comical soever in the beginning, are sure to be tragical in the end. Sca. 'Tis no matter; I hate your pusillanimous spirit: revenge and lechery are never so pleasant as when you venture hard for them; begone! Here comes my man. [Exit SHIFT. Enter GRIPE. Oh, sir, sir, shift for yourself! quickly sir! quickly sir! for Heaven's sake! Gripe. What's the matter, man? Sca. Heaven! is this a time to ask questions? Will you be murdered instantly? I am afraid you will be killed within these two minutes! Gripe. Mercy on me! killed! for what? Sca. They are every way looking out for you. Sca. The brother of her whom your son has all sorts of rogues, English, Scotch, Welch, married; he's a captain of a privateer, who has Irish, French, under his command, and alllying because you would null the marriage: they run in wait now, or searching for you to kill you up Where is the dog? Where is the slave Gripe? and down crying, Where is the rogue Gripe? They watch for you so narrowly, that there's no getting home to your house. will become of me? Gripe. Oh, Scapin! what shall I do? What Sca. Nay, Heaven knows; but, if you come within their reach, they will De Wit you; they will tear you in pieces! Hark! Gripe. O Lord! beaten. bounteously: I'll give the this suit, when I have Gripe. Dear Scapin, do: I will reward thee worn it eight or nine months longer. Sca. Listen! who are these? Gripe. God forgive me! Lord have mercy upon us! Sca. No, there's nobody: Look, if you'll save your life, go into this sack presently. Gripe. Oh! who's there? Sca. Nobody: Get into the sack, and stir not, of goods, through all your enemies, to the major's whatever happens: I'll carry you as a bundie house of the castle. Gripe. An admirable invention ! Oh! Lord! quick. [Gets into the suck. Sca. Yes, 'tis an excellent invention, if you knew all. Keep in your head, Oh, here's a rogue coming to look for you! SCAPIN counterfeits a Welshman. Do you hear, I pray you? Where is Leander's father, took you? B In his own voice. How should I know? what would you have with him?Lie close. [Aside to GRIPE. Have with him! look you, hur has no creat pus'ness, but hur would have satisfactions and reparations, look you, for credit and honours; by St. Tavy, he shall not put the injuries and affronts upon my captains, look you now, sir. He affront the captain! he meddles with no man. In an Irish tone. Doest thou hear, Sackman? I prithee where is that damned dog, Gripe ? Why, what's that to you? What know I ? What's that to me, joy? By my shoul, joy, 1 will lay a great blow upon thy pate, and the devil take me, but I will make thee know whare he is indeed, or I'll beat upon thee till thou dost know, by my salvation indeed. I'll not be beaten. deed! Now, the Devil take me, I swear by him that You lie, sir, look you, and hur will give you made me, if thou dost not tell where is Gripe, beatings and chastisements, for your contradic-but I will beat thy father's child very much intions, when hur Welse plood is up, look you, and hur will cudgel your pack and your nootles for it; take you that now. [Beats the sack. Hold, hold; will you murder me? I know not where he is, not I. Hur will teach saucy jacks how they provoke hur Welse ploods and hur collars: and for the old rogue, hur will have his guts and his plood, look you, sir, or hur will never wear leak upon St. Tavy's day more, look you. On! he has mauled me! a damned Welsh rascal. What would you have me do? I cannot tell where he is. But what would you have with him? What would I have with him? By my shoul, if I do see him, I will make murder upon him for my captain's sake. Murder him? he'll not be murdered. If I do lay my eyes upon him, gad I will put my sword into his bowels, the devil take me ́indeed. What hast thou in that sack, joy? By my salvation, I will look into it. Gripe. You! the blows fell upon my shoul-it. ders. Oh! Sca. 'Twas only the end of the stick fell on you; the main substantial part of the cudgel lighted on me. Gripe. Why did you not stand further off? In a Lancashire dialect. Yaw fellee wi' th' sack there, done whear th' awd rascal Griap is? Not I; but he is no rascal. yaw knaw Yau leen, yau douge; yau knaw weel enugh whear he is, and yawden tell, and that he is a fow rascot as any in uw the town; I's tell a that by'r lady. Not I, sir; I know neither not I. By th'mess, an ay tack thee in hont, ay's raddle the bones on thee; ay's keeble thee to some tune. Me, sir? I don't understand you. Why, thaw'rt his mon, thaw hobble; I'll snite th'naes o'thee. Hold, hold, sir! what would you have with him? Why, Imun knock him down with my kibbo, the first bawt to the grawnt, and then I mun beat him to pap, by th' mess, and after ay mun cut off the lugs and naes on 'em, and ay wot, he'll be a pretty swatley fellee, bawt lugs and nues. Why, truly sir, I know not where he is; but he went dowu that Lane. This lone, sayn ye? Ays find him, by'r lady, an he be above grawnt. So, he's gone; a damned Lancashire rascal! Gripe. Oh! good Scapin! go on quickly. [GRIPE pops in his head. Sca. Hold; here's another. But you shall not. What have you to do with By my soul, joy, I will put my rapier into it! What, it does grunt, by my salvation, the devil take me, I will see it indeed. You shall not see my sack; I'll defend it with my life. Then I will make beat upon thy body; take that, joy, and that, and that, upon my shoul, and so I do take my leave, joy. [Beats him in the sack. A plague on him,he's gone; he has almost killed me. Gripe. I can hold no longer the blows all fell upon my shoulders. Sca. You can't tell me; they fell on mine: oh my shoulders. Gripe. Your's? Oh my shoulders. In a hoarse Seaman's voice. Where is the dog? I'll lay him on fore and aft, swinge him with a cat-o'-nine tail, keel haul and then hang him at the main yard. In broken French English. him; I vill put my rapier in his body. I vill give If there be no more men in England, I vill kill him two tree pushe in de gutte. Here ScAPIN acts a number of them together. We must go this way-'o the right hand? no to th' left hand-lie close-search every whereby my salvation, I will kill the damned dog-and we do catch 'em, we'll tear 'em in pieces, and I do hear he went thick way-no, straight forward. Hold, here is his man; where is your master-Damn me, where? In hell? Speak Hold, not so furiously-and you don't tell us where he is, we'll murder thee Do what you will, gentlemen I know not, Lay him on thick; thwack him soundly. Hold, hold; do what you will, I will ne'er betray my master. Knock 'en down; beat 'en soundly; to'en, at 'en, at 'en, at [As he is going to strike, GRIPE peeps out, and SCAPIN takes to his heels. Gripe. Oh, dog, traitor, villain! Is this your plot? Would you have murdered me, rogue? Unheard of inpudence! Enter THRIFTY. Oh, brother Thrifty! You come to see me loaden with disgrace; the villain Scapin has, as I am sensible now, cheated me of 2001. This beating brings all into my memory. Thrifty. The impudent varlet has gulled me of the same sum. Gripe. Nor was he content to take my money, but has abused me at that barbarous rate, that I am ashamed to tell it; but he shall pay for it severely. Thrifty. But this is not all, brother; one misfortune is the forerunner of another: Just now I have received letters from London, that both our daughters have run away from their governesses, with two wild debauched young fellows, that they fell in love with. Enter LUCIA and CLARA.. Luc. Was ever so malicious impudence seen? Ha! Surely, if I mistake not, that should be my father. Cla. And the other mine, whom Scapin has used thus. Luc. Bless us! returned, and we not know of it? Cla. What will they say to find us here? Luc. The same, sir. Cla. Yes, sir; and happy to see your safe ar rival. Thrifty. What strange destiny has directed this happiness to us? Enter OCTAVIAN. Gripe. Hey-day! Thrifty. Oh, so! I have a wife for you. Oct. Good father, all your propositions are vain; I must needs be free, and tell you I am engaged. Thrifty. Look you now: is not this very fine? Now I have a mind to be merry, and to be friends with you, you'll not let me now, will you? I tell you, Mr. Gripe's daughter, here- Oct. I'll never marry Mr. Gripe's daughter, sir, as long as I live: No, yonder she is, that I must love, and can never entertain the thoughts of any other. Cla. Yes, Octavian, I have at last met withi my father, and all our fears and troubles are at an end. Thrifty. Lo ye now, you would be wiser than the father that begot you, would you? Did not I always say you should marry Mr. Gripe's daughter? But you do not know your sister Luce. Oct. Unlooked for blessing! Why, she's my friend Leander's wife? Thrifty. How? Leander's wife! Gripe. Indeed! Well, brother Thrifty, 'tis true the boy was always a good-natured boy.Well, now I am so overjoyed, that I could laugh till I shook my shoulders, but that I dare not, they are so sore. But look, here he comes. Enter LEANDER. Lean. Sir, I beg your pardon; I find my marriage is discovered; nor would I, indeed, have longer concealed it; this is my wife, I must own her. Gripe. Brother Thrifty, did you ever see the like? did you ever see the like? ha! Thrifty. Own her, quotha! Why, kiss her, kiss her, man; odsbodikins, when I was a young fellow, and was first married, I did nothing else for three months. Gripe. Well, 'tis his father's nown child. Just so, brother, was it with me upon my weddingday; I could not look upon my dear without blushing; but when we were a-bed, Lord ha mercy upon us!--but I'll no more. Lean. Is, then, my father reconciled to me? Gripe. Reconciled to thee! Why, I love thee at my heart, man, at my heart; why, 'tis my brother Thrifty's daughter, Mrs. Lucy, whom I always designed for thy wife; and that's thy sister Clara, married to Mr. Octa, there. Lean. Octavian, are we then brothers? There is nothing that I could have rather wished, after compleating of my happiness with my charming Lucia. Thrifty. Come, sir, hang up your compliments in the hall at home; they are old, and out of fashion: Shift, go to the inn, and bespeak a supper may cost more money than I have got to pay for it, for I am resolved to run in debt to-night. Shift. I shall obey your commands, sir. Thrifty. Then, d'ye hear, send out and muster up all the fiddlers, blind or not blind, drunk or sober, in the town; let not so much as the roaster of tunes, with his cracked cymbal in a case, escape you. Gripe. Well, what would I give now for the fellow that sings the song at my lord mayor's feast: I myself would make an epithalamium by way of sonnet, and he should set a tune to it; it was the prettiest he had last time. Enter SLY. Sly. Oh, gentlemen, here the strangest accident fallen out! Thrifty. What's the matter? Sly. Poor Scapin! Gripe. Ha! Rogue, let him be hanged! I'll hang him myself. Sly. Oh, sir, that trouble you may spare; for, passing by a place where they were building, a great stone fell upon his head, and broke his skull so, you may see his brains. Thrifty. Where is he? Sly. Yonder he comes. pressible grief that I should dare to lift my hand Gripe. Hold thy peace, or die quickly; I tell thee I have forgot all Sca. Alas! How good a man you are! But, sir, d'ye pardon me freely, and from the bottom of your heart, those merciless drubs that Gripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee freely; here's my hand upon't. Sca. Oh, sir, how much your goodness re[Pulls off his cap. Enter SCAPIN between two, his head wrapt up in vives me! linen, as if he had been wounded. Sca. Oh me! Oh me! Gentlemen, you see me, you see me in a sad condition, cut off like a flower in the prime of my years; but yet I could not die, without the pardon of those I have wronged; yes, gentlemen, I beseech you to forgive me all the injuries that I have done; but more especially I beg of you, Mr. Thrifty, and my good master, Mr. Gripe. Thrifty. For my part, I pardon thee freely; go, and die in peace. Sca. But 'tis you, sir, I have most offended, by the inhuman bastinadoes which Gripe. Prithee, speak no more of it; I forgive thee, too. Sca. 'Twas a most wicked insolence in me, that I should, with vile crabtree, cudgel Gripe. Pish! no more; I say I am satisfied. Gripe. How's that! Friend, take notice, I pardon thee; but 'tis upon condition, that you are sure to die. Sca. Oh me! I begin to faint again. Thrifty, Come, fie, brother! never let revenge employ your thoughts now; forgive him, forgive him without any condition. Gripe. A deuce on't, brother! as I hope to be saved, he beat me basely and scurvily, never stir he did: but, since you will have it so, I do forgive him. Thrifty. Now then, let's to supper, and in our mirth drown and forget all troubles. Sca. Ay, and let them carry me to the lower end of the table; Where, in my chair of state, I'll sit at ease, And eat and drink, that I may die in peace. [A dance.] [Exeunt omnes. |