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your recruiting airs, put on the man of honour, Mel. You are a servant, and a secret may make and tell me plainly what usage I must expect you saucy, when I am under your command?
Lucy. Not unless you should find fault without Plume. You must know, in the first place, then, I hate to have gentlemen in my company; they Mel. Cause or not cause, I must not lose the are always troublesome and expensive, sometimes pleasure of chiding when I please. Women must dangerous : and 'tis a constant maxim amongst discharge their vapours somewhere ; and before us, that those who know the least obey the best. we get husbands our servants must expect to bear Notwithstanding all this, I find something so
with 'em. agreeable about you that engages me to court Lucy. Then, madam, you had better raise me your company; and I cann't tell how it is, but I to a degree above a servant: you know my family; should be uneasy to see you under the command and that five hundred pounds would set me upon of any body else.--Your usage will chiefly de- the foot of a gentlewoman, and make me worthy pend upon your behaviour; only this you must the confidence of any lady in the land; besides, expect, that if you commit a small fault I will ex madam, 'twill extremely encourage me in the cuse it, if a great one I'll discharge you; for great design I now have in hand. something tells me I shall not be able to pu Mel. I don't find that your design can be of
any great advantage to you ; 'twill please me in. Syl. And something tells me that if you do deed in the humour I have of being reveng'd on discharge me 'twill be the greatest punishment the fool, for his vanity of making love to me; you can inflict; for were we this moment to go so I don't much care if I do promise you five upon the greatest dangers in your profession, they hundred pounds upon my day of marriage, would be less terrible to me than to stay behind Lucy. That is the way, madam, to make me you-And now, your hand; this lists me—and now diligent in the vocation of a confidant, which I you are my captain.
think is generally to bring people together. Plume. Your friend. [Kisses her.) PSdeath ! Mel. Oh, Lucy! I can hold my secret no longthere's something in this fellow that charms me. er. You must know, that hearing of a famous
Syl. One favour I must beg-this affair will fortune-teller in town, I went disguis'd, to satisfy make some noise, and I have some friends that a curiosity which has cost me dear. The fellow would censure my conduct, if I threw myself into is certainly the devil, or one of his bosom-favourthe circumstance of a private centinel of my own ites :-he has told me the most surprising things head-I must therefore take care to be imprest of my past life. by the act of parliament; you shall leave that to Lucy. Things past, madam, can hardly be reck
on’d surprising, because we know them already. Plume. What you please as to that-Will you Did he tell you any thing surprising that was ta lodge at my quarters in the mean time? you shall
come? have part of my bed.
Mel. One thing very surprising :-he said I Syl. Oh fie! lie with a common soldier! would should die a maid! not you rather lie with a common woman?
Lucy. Die a maid ! come into the world for Plume. No, faith, I'm not that rake that the nothing !-Dear madam ! if you should believe world imagines. I've got an air of freedom which bim, it might come to pass ; for the bare thought people mistake for lewdness in me, as they mis on't might kill one in four-and-twenty hours take formality in others for religion.— The world And did you ask him any questions about me? is all a cheat, only I take mine, which is unde Mel. You ! why I pass’d for you. sign'd, to be more excusable than theirs, which Lucy. So 'tis I that am to die a maid-But is hypocritical. I hurt nobody but myself; they the devil was a liar from the beginning; he cann't abuse all mankind-Will you lie with me? make me die a maid—I've put it out of his power Syl. No, no, captain; you forget Rose: she's already.
(Aside. my bed-fellow, you know.
Mel. I do but jest. I would have pass'd for Plume. I had forgot: pray be kind to her. you, and call myself Lucy; but he presently told
[Ereunt severally. me my name, my quality, my fortune, and gave Enter MELINDA and LUCY.
me the whole history of my life. He told me of
a lover I had in this country, and described WorMel. 'Tis the greatest misforture in nature thy exactly, but in nothing so well as in his prefor a woman to want a confidant : we are so weak sent indifference I fled to him for refuge here that we can do nothing without assistance, and to-day; he never so much as encouraged me in then a secret racks us worse than the cholic- my fright, but coldly told me that he was sorry for I am at this minute so sick of a secret, that I'm the accident, because it might give the town cause ready to faint away -Help me, Lucy!
to censure my conduct; excus'd his not waiting on Lucy. Bless me! Madam, what's the matter: me home; made me a careless bow; and walk'd off
Mel. Vapours only; I begin to recover.--If _'Sdeath! I could have stabb’d him or myself ; Sylvia were in town, I could heartily forgive her 'twas the same thing-Yonder he comes— I will faults, for the ease of discovering my own.
so use lim! Lucy. You are thoughtful, madam; am not I Lucy. Don't exasperate him; consider what worthy to know the cause ?
the fortune-teller told you. Men are scarce; and
as times go, it is not impossible for a woman to | on’t: he plays his part admirably: she's to be die a maid.
with him again presently,
Wor. But what could be the meaning of BraEnter WORTHY.
zen's familiarity with her! Mel. No matter.
Plume. You are no logician, if you pretend to Wor. I find she's warm’d; I must strike while draw consequences from the actions of foolsthe iron is hot.—You've a great deal of courage, There's no arguing by the rule of reason upon a madam, to venture into the walks where you science without principles; and such is their conwere so lately frightened.
duct-Whim, unaccountable whim, hurries 'em Mel. And you have a quantity of impudence, on, like a man drunk with brandy before ten o’to appear before me, that you so lately have af- clock in the morning—But we lose our sport: fronted.
Kite has opened above an hour let's away. Wor. I bad no design to affront you, nor ap
[Exeunt. pear before you either, madam: I left you here because I had business in another place, and came SCENE II.-A Chamber; a Table with Books hither thinking to meet another person.
and Globes. Kite, disguised in a strange Habit, Mel. Since you find yourself disappointed, I sitting at the Table. hope you'll withdraw to another part of the walk.
Wor. The walk is broad enough for us both. Kite. (Rising.) By the position of the heavens, [They walk by one another, he with his hat cock'd, gained from my observation upon these celestial she fretting and tearing her fan.) Will you please globes, I find that Luna was a tide-waiter, Sol a to take snuff, madam ? (He offers her his bor, she surveyor, Mercury a thief, Venus a whore, Saturn strikes it out of his hand; while he is gathering it an alderman, Jupiter a rake, and Mars a serjeant
, up, BRAZEN enters, and takes her round the waist; of grenadiers—and this is the system of Kite the she cuffs him.
conjurer. Braz. What, here before me, my dear ! Mel. What means this insolence ?
Enter Plume and WORTHY. Lucy. Are you mad ?-Don't you see Mr Wor Plume. Well, what success? thy?
(To BRAZEN. Kite. I have sent away a shoemaker and a Bruz. No, no; I'm struck blind-Worthy! tailor already: one's to be a captain of marines, odso! well turn'd-My mistress has wit at her and the other a major of dragoons, I am to mafinger's ends—Madam, I ask your pardon ; 'tis nage them at night-Have you seen the lady, Mr our way abroad Mr Worthy, you're the happy Worthy?
l'or. Ay, but it won't do—Have you shewed Wor. I don't envy your happiness very much, her her name, that I tore off from the bottom of if the lady can afford no other sort of favours but the letter? what she has bestowed upon you.
Kite. No, sir, I reserve that for the last Mel. I'm sorry the favour miscarry'd, for it stroke. was design’d for you, Mr Worthy; and be assur'd Plume. What letter? 'tis the last and only favour you must expect at
Wor. One that I would not let you see, for my hands-Captain, I ask your pardon. fear that you should break windows in good ear
[Exit with Lucy. nest. Here, captain, put it into your pocketBraz. I grant it-You see, Mr Worthy, 'twas book, and have it ready upon occasion. only a random-shot ; it might have taken off your
(Knocking at the door. head as well as mine. Courage, my dear! 'tis Kite. Officers, to your posts. Tycho, mind the fortune of war : but the enemy has thought the door. fit to withdraw, I think.
[Exeunt PLUME and WORTHY. Servant Wor. Withdraw! Oons ! sir, what d’ye mean
opens the door. by withdraw ? Braz. I'll shew you.
Enter a Smith. Wor. She's lost, irrecoverably lost, and Plume's Smith. Well, master, are you the cunning advice has ruined me. 'Sdeath! why should I, man? that knew her haughty spirit, be ruled by a man Kite. I am the learned Copernicus. that's a stranger to her pride?
Smilh. Well, master, I'm but a poor man, and
I cann't afford above a shilling for my fortune. Enter PLUME.
Kite. Perhaps that is more than 'tis worth. Plume. Ha, ha, ha! a battle royal! Don't Smith. Look ye, doctor, let me have something frown so, man; she's your own, I'll tell you: Ithat's good for my shilling, or I'll have my mosaw the fury of her love in the extremity of her ney again. passion. The wildness of her anger is a certain Kite. If there be faith in the stars, you shall sign that she loves you to madness. That rogue have your shilling forty-fold-Your hand, counKite began the battle with abundance of con- tryman_You're by trade a smith. duct, and will bring you off victorious ; my life Smith. How the devil should you know that?
Kite. Because the devil and you are brother don't know-And be sure you look at St Mary's, tradesmen-You were born under Forceps. dial, for the sun won't shine, and if it should, you Smith. Forceps, what's that?
won't be able to tell the figures. Kite. One of the signs :-there's Leo, Sagitta Smith. I will, I will.
(Exit. rius, Forceps, Furns, Ďixinude, Namur, Brussels, Plume. Well done, conjurer ! go on, and prosCharleroy, and so forth--twelve of 'em-Let me per.
(Behind. seedid you ever make any bombs or cannon Kite. As you were. bullets? Smith. Not I.
Enter a Butcher. Kite. You either have or willThe stars have What, my old friend Pluck the butcher! I of decreed that you shall be -I must have more fered the surly bull-dog five guineas this mornmoney, sir-your fortune's great. ing, and he refused it.
(Aside. Smith. Faith, doctor, I have no more.
But. So, Mr Conjurer, here's half-a-crown Kile. Oh, sir, I'll trust you, and take it out of | And now you must understand your arrears.
Kite. Hold, friend, I know your business beSmith. Arrears! what arrears?
fore-handKite. The five hundred pound that is owing to But. You're devilish cunning then, for I don't you from the government.
well know it myself. Smith. Owing me!
Kite. I know more than you, friend--You have Kite. Owing you, sir-Let me see your t’other a foolish saying, that such a one knows no more hand—I beg your pardon; it will be owing to than the man in the moon: I tell you the man in you, and the rogue of an agent will demand fifty the moon knows more than all the men under the per cent. for a fortnight's advance.
sun. Don't the moon see all the world? Smith. I'm in the clouds, doctor, all this But. All the world see the moon, I must conwhile.
fess. Kite. Sir, I am above 'em, among the stars, Kile. Then she must see all the world, that's In two years thrce months and two hours you certain-Give me your band-You're by trade will be made captain of the forges to the grand either a butcher or a surgeon. train of artillery, and will have ten shillings a-day, But. True, I am a butcher. and two servants 'Tis the decree of the stars, Kite. And a surgeon you will be; the employe and of the fixed stars, that are as immoveable as ments differ only in the name—He that can cut your anvil-Strike, sir, while the iron is bot-up an ox may dissect a man; and the same dexFly, sir, be gone.
terity that cracks a marrow-bone will cut off a Smith. What would you have me do, doctor? leg or an arm. I wish the stars would put me in a way for this But. What d’ye mean, doctor? what d'ye fine place.
mean? Kite. The stars do-Let me see-ay, about an Kite. Patience, patience, Mr Surgeon-general ; hour hence walk carelessly into the market-place, the stars are great bodies, and move slowly. and
you will see a tall slender gentleman cheap But. But what d’ye mean by surgeon-general, ening a pennyworth of apples, with a cane hang- doctor? ing upon his button : this gentleman will ask you Kite. Nay, sir, if your worship won't have pawhat's o'clock-he's your man, and the maker of tience, I must beg the favour of your worship's your fortune; follow him, follow him—And now absence. go home, and take leave of your wife and child But. My worship! my worship! but why my ren-An hour hence exactly is your time. worship? Smith. A tall slender gentleman, you say, Kite. Nay, then I have done.
(Sits. with a cane : pray, what sort of a head has the But. Pray, doctorcane ?
Kite. Fire and fury, sir! (Rises in a passion.] Kile. An amber head, with a black riband. Do you think the stars will be hurried ? Do the
Smith. And pray, of what employment is the gentleman ?
dun their lordships at this rate ?-Sir, I am porter Kite. Let me see ; he's either a collector of to the stars, and I am ordered to let no dun the excise, or a plenipotentiary, or a captain of come near their doors. grenadiers—I cann't tell exactly which -but But. Dear doctor! I never had any dealing he'll call you honest Your name is
with the stars; they don't owe me a penny-but Smith. Thomas.
since you are their porter, please to accept of Kile. He'll call you honest Tom.
this half-crown to drink their healths, and don't Smith. But how the devil should he know my be angryname?
Kite. Let me see your hand then once more Kite. Oh, there are several sorts of Toms- Here has been gold-five guineas, my friend, in Tom o'Lincoln, Tom Tit, Tom Telltruth, Tom this very hand this morning. a' Beldam, and Tom Fool Be gone-An hour But. Nay, then he is the devil-Pray, doctor, hence precisely.
[ Knocking at the door. were you born of a woman, or did you come into Smith. You say he'll ask me what's o'clock ? the world of your own head ? Kite. Most certainly—and you'll answer you Kite. That's a secret-This gold was offered
you by a proper, handsome man, called Hawk, or price of a loin of veal, and at the same time stroke Buzzard, or
your great dog upon the head, and call him ChopBut. Kite, you mean.
per. Kite. Ay, ay, Kite.
But. Mercy on us !-Chopper is the dog's Bul. As arrant a rogue as ever carried a halberd: the impudent rascal would have decoyed Kite. Look'e there—what I say is true-things me for a soldier.
that are to come must come to pass—Get you Kite. A soldier! a man of your substance for home, sell off your stock, don't mind the whina soldier ! your mother has an hundred pound, ing and the snivelling of your mother and your in hard money, lying, at this minute, in the hands sister ; women always hinder preferment-make of a mercer, not forty yards from this place. what money you can, and follow that gentleman;
But. Oons ! and so she has, but very few know his name begins with a P.-mind that. There so much.
will be the barber's daughter too, that you proKite. I know it, and that rogue, what's his mised marriage to-she will be pulling and haulname? Kite, knew it, and offered you five gui- ing you to pieces. neas to list, because he knew your poor mother But. What, know Sally too!-he's the devil, and would give the hundred for your discharge. he needs must go that the devil drives. [Going.)
But. There's a dog, now—'Sflesh ! doctor, I'll -The tip of his handkerchief out of his left give you t'other half-crown, and tell me that this pocket? same Kite will be hang'd.
Kite. No, no, his right pocket; if it be the left, Kite. He's in as much danger as any man in 'tis none of the man. the county of Salop.
But. Well, well, I'll mind him. (Exit. But. There's your fee-But you have forgot Plume. The right pocket, you say. the surgeon-general all this while.
(Behind, with his pocket-book. Kite. You put the stars in a passion; (Looks Kite. I hear the rustling of silks. (Knocking.) on his books] but now they are pacified again, Fly, sir, 'tis Madam Melinda. Let me see, did you never cut off a man's leg? But. No.
Enter MELINDA and Lucy. Kite. Recollect, pray.
Kite. Tycho, chairs for the ladies. But. I say, no.
Mel. Don't trouble yourself; we sha'n't stay, Kite. That's strange, wonderful strange! but doctor. nothing is strange to me; such wonderful changes Kite. Your ladyship is to stay much longer have I seen—The second or third, ay, the third than you imagine. campaign that you make in Flanders, the leg of a Mel. For what? great officer will be shattered by a great shot; you Kite. For a husband-For your part, madam, will be there accidentally, and with your cleaver you won't stay for a husband. [To Lucy. chop off the limb at a blow. In short, the opera Lucy. Pray, doctor, do you converse with the tion will be performed with so much dexterity, stars or the devil ?. that, with general applause, you will be made sur Kite. With both: when I have the destinies of geon-general of the whole army.
men in search, I consult the stars; when the afBut. Nay, for the matter of cutting off a limb, fairs of women come under my hands, I advise I'll do't with any surgeon in Europe; but I have with my tother friend. no thoughts of making a campaign.
Mel. And have you raised the devil upon my Kite. You have no thoughts! what's matter for account? your thoughts? the stars have decreed it, and Kite. Yes, madam, and he's now under the you must go.
table. But. The stars decree it! Oons! sir, the jus Lucy. Oh, Heavens protect us! Dear madam! tices cann't press me,
Kile. Nay, friend, 'tis none of my business; I Kite. If you be afraid of him, why do ye come have done; only mind this,-you'll know more an
to consult him? hour and half hence; that's all. Farewell. Mel. Don't fear, fool: do you think, sir, that
But. Hold, hold, doctor Surgeon-general ! because I'm a woman I'm to be fool'd out of my what is the place worth, pray?
reason, or frightened out of my senses ? Come, Kite. Five hundred pounds a-year, besides gui- shew me this devil. neas for claps.
Kite. He's a little busy at present, but when But. Five hundred pounds a-year!-An hour he has done he shall wait on you. and a half hence, you say:
Mel. What is he doing? Kite. Pr’ythee, friend, be quiet, don't be trou Kite. Writing your name in his pocket-book. blesome; here's such a work to make a booby Mel. Ha, ha ! my
what have you accept of five hundred pounds a-year or he to do with
name? But if you must hear it-I'll tell you in short: Kite. Look'e, fair lady! the devil is a very moyou'll be standing in your stall an hour and half dest person ; he seeks nobody unless they seek hence, and a gentleman will
come by with a snuff him first; he's chain’d up like a mastiff, and cann't box in his hand, and the tip of his handkerchief stir unless he be let loose.—You come to me to hanging out of his right pocket; he'll ask you tbe have your fortune told—do you think, madam,
let's be gone.
that I can answer you of my own head ? No, Kite. Ten-about the hour of tea-drinking
-do it at three motions-one-two-three-'tis the table.
Kite. Tycho, wait on the ladies down stairs. Lucy. I fetch it! the devil fetch me if I do.
(Ereunt MELINDA and LUCY. Mil. My name in my own hand-writing! that would be convincing indeed.
Enter WORTHY and PLUME. Kite. Seeing is believing. (Goes to the table, Kite. Mr Worthy, you were pleas'd to wish me and lifts up the carpet.) Here, Tre, Tre, poor Tre, joy to-day; I hope to be able to return the comgive me the bone, sirrah. There's your name, pliment to-morrow. upon that square piece of paper. Behold
Wor. I'll make it the best compliment to you Mel. 'Tis wonderful ! my very letters, to a that ever I made in my life, if you do:--but I must tittle!
be a traveller you say? Lucy. 'Tis like your hand, madam, but not so Kite. No farther than the Chops of the Chanlike your hand, neither; and now I look nearer, nel, I presume, sir. 'tis not like your hand at all.
Plume. That we have concerted already. Kite. Here's a chambermaid now will outlie (Knocking hard.] Hey-day! you don't profess midthe devil !
wifery, doctor? Lucy. Look'e, madam, they sha'n't impose Kile. Away to your ambuscade. upon us : people cann't remember their hands no
(Exeunt WORTHY and PLUME. more than they can their faces---Come, madam, let us be certain : write your name upon this pa
Enter BRAZEN. per, then we'll compare the two hands.
Braz. Your servant, my dear! [Takes out a paper, and folds it. Kite. Stand off, I have my familiar already, Kite. Any thing for your satisfaction, madam Braz. Are you bewitch’d, my dear? -Here's pen and ink.
Kite. Yes, my dear! but mine is a peaceable [MELINDA writes, Lucy holds the paper. spirit, and hates gunpowder. Thus I fortify myLucy. Let me see it, madam :—'tis the same self: [Draws a circle round him) and now, cap
-the very same-But I'll secure one copy for tain, have a care how you force my lines. my own affairs.
Aside. Braz. Lines ! what dost talk of lines ! you Mel. This is demonstration.
have something like a fishing-rod there, indeed : Kite. 'Tis so, madam-the word demonstra- but I come to be acquainted with you, mantion comes from Dæmon, the father of lies. What's your name, my dear?
Mel. Well, doctor, I'm convinc'd: and now, Kite. Conundrum. pray, what account can you give of my future Braz. Conundrum? rat me! I knew a famous fortune?
doctor in London of your name-Where were Kite. Before the sun has made one course round this earthly globe, your fortune will be fix'd Kite. I was born in Algebra. for happiness or misery.
Braz. Algebra ! 'tis no country in ChristenMel. What! so near the crisis of my fate ? dom, I'm sure, unless it be some place in the
Kite. Let me see—About the hour of ten to- Highlands in Scotland. morrow morning you will be saluted by a gentle Kite. Right- I told you I was bewitched. man who will come to take his leave of
being Bruz. So am I, my dear! I am going to be designed for travel; his intention of going abroad marry'd—I have had two letters from a lady of is sudden, and the occasion a woman. Your fortune that loves me to madness, fits, cholic, fortune and his are like the bullet and the barrel; spleen, and vapours— shall I marry her in fourone runs plump into the other-In short, if the and-twenty hours, ay or no? gentleman travels, he will die abroad, and if he Kite. Certainly. does, you will die before he comes home.
Braz. Gadso, ayMel. What sort of a man is he?
Kite. — Or no--but I must have the year and Kite. Madam, he's a fine gentleman, and a the day of the month when these letters were lover; that is, a man of very good sense, and a dated. very great fool.
Braz. Why, you old bitch ! did you ever hear Mel. How is that possible, doctor?
of love-letters dated with the year and day of the Kile. Because, madam—because it is so-A month? Do you think billet-doux are like bankwoman's reason is the best for a man's being a bills? fool.
Kite. They are not so good, my dear!—but if Mel. Ten o'clock, you say?
they bear no date, I must examine the contents.