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Bon. Yes, sir, he's a man of pleasure: he in life, or revolutions in government: we have plays at whist, and smokes his pipe eight-and-heads to get money, and hearts to spend it. forty hours together sometimes.
Aim. As to our hearts, I grant ye they are as Áim. A fine sportsman, truly! and married, willing tits as any within twenty degrees; but I you say?
can have no great opinion of our heads from the Bon. Ay, and toa curious woman, sir.—But he's service they have done us hitherto, unless it be 8-He wants it here, sir. (Pointing to his forehead. that they brought us from London hither to LitchAim. He has it there, you mean.
field, made me a lord, and you my servant. Bon. That's none of my business ; he's my Arch. That's more than you could expect allandlord; and so a man, you know, would not ready.—But what money have we left? But, I'cod, he's no better than -sir, my humble Aim. But two hundred pounds. service to you. [Drinks.] Though I value not a Arch. And our horses, clothes, rings, &c. farthing what he can do to me: I pay him his Why, we have very good fortunes now, for morent at quarter-day; I have a good running trade; derate people: and let me tell you, that this two I have but one daughter, and I can give her- hundred pounds, with the experience that weare But no matter for that.
now masters of, is a better estate than the ten dim. You're very happy, Mr Boniface.-Pray, thousand we have spent. Our friends, indeed, bewhat other company
gan to suspect that our pockets were low, but we Bun. A power of fine ladies; and then we have came off with flying colours, shewed no signs of the French officers.
want, either in word or deed. Aim. O! that's right; you have a good many of Aim. Ay, and our going to Brussels was a those gentlemen : pray, how do you like their good pretence enough for our sudden disappearcompany?
ing; and, I warrant you, our friends imagine that Bon, So well, as the saying is, that I could wish we are gone a volunteering. we had as many more of 'em : they're full of Arch. Why, 'faith, if this project fails, it must money, and pay double for every thing they have; e'en come to that. I am for venturing one of they know, sir, that we paid good round taxes the hundreds, if you will, upon this knight-erranfor the taking of them, and so they are willing try; but in case it should fail, we'll reserve the to reimburse us a little :-one of 'em lodges in other to carry us to some counterscarp, where my house.
we may die as we liv’d, in a blaze.
Aim. With all my heart; and we have liv'd Enter ARCHER.
justly, Archer'; we cann't say that we have spent Arch. Landlord, there are some French gen our fortunes, but that we have enjoy'd 'em. tlemen below, that ask for you.
Arch. Right : so much pleasure for so much Bon, l'll wait on 'em-Does your master money: we have had our pennyworths; and had stay long in town, as the saying is? [TO ARCHER. I millions, I would go to the same market again. O Arch. I cann't tell, as the saying is.
London, London ! Well, we have had our share, Bon. Come from London?
and let us be thankful : past pleasures, for aught Arch. No.
I know, are best, such as we are sure of; those Bon. Going to London, may-hap.
to come may disappoint us. But you command Arch, No.
for the day, and so I subinit.-At Nottingham, Bon. An odd fellow this ! [Bar bell rings.] Iyou know, I am to be master. beg your worship’s pardon ; I'll wait on you in Aim. And at Lincoln I again. half a minute.
Arch. Then, at Norwich I mount, which, I Aim. The course is clear, I see -Now, my think, shall be our last stage; for if we fail there, dear Archer, welcome to Litchfield.
we'l embark for Holland, bid adieu to Venus, Arch. I thank thee, my dear brother in iniquity. and welcome Mars.
Aint. A match ! Aim. 'Iniquity! pr’ythee leave canting ; you need not change your style with your dress.
Enter BONIFACE, Arch. Don't mistake me, Aimwell; for 'tis still my maxim, that there's no scandal like rags, nor
Mum. any crime so shameful as poverty. Men must Bon. What will your worship please to have not be poor : idleness is the root of all evil: the for supper? world's wide enough; let 'em bustle: fortune has
Aim. What have you got? taken the weak under her protection, but men of Bon. Sir, we have a delicate piece of beef in sense are left to their industry.
the pot, and a pig at the fire, Aim. Upon which topic we proceed, and, I Aim, Good supper-meat, I must confessthink, luckily, hitherto. Would not any man I cann't eat beef, landlord, swear, now, that I am a man of quality, and you Arch. And I hate pig, my servant, when, if our intrinsic value were Ain, Hold your prating, sirrah! Do you know known
who you are?
(Aside. Arch. Come, come, we are the men of intrin Bun, Please to bespeak something else : I sie value, who can strike our fortunes out of our- have every thing in the house, selves; whose worth is independent of accidents Aim. Have you any veal ?
Bon. Veal! sir; we had a delicate loin of veal Cher. Father, would you liave me give my seon Wednesday last.
cret for his? Aim. Have you got any fish, or wild-fowl? Bon. Consider, child, there's two hundred
Bon. As for fish, truly, sir, we are an inland pounds to boot. (Ringing wiihout.] Coming, co.. town, and indifferently provided with fish, that's ming -Child, mind your business. (Exit Bon. the truth on't; but then for wild-fowl !
Cher. What a rogue is my father!—My father! have a delicate couple of rabbits.
I deny it--My mother was a good, generous, freeAim. Get me the rabbits fricasseed.
hearted woman, and I cann't tell how far her good Bon. Fricasseed ! Lard, sir, they'll eat much nature might have extended for the good of her better smother'd with onions.
children. This landlord of mine, for I think I can Arch. Pshaw! Rot your onions.
call him no more, would betray his guest, and deAim. Again, sirrah !-Well, landlord, what you bauch bis daughter into the bargain by a footplease: but hold, I have a small charge of mo.
man too! ney, and your house is so full of strangers, that I believe it may be safer in your custody than mine;
Enter ARCHER. for when this fellow of mine gets drunk, he minds Arch. What footman, pray,
mistress, is so bapnothing-Here, sirral, reach me the strong box.py as to be the subject of your contemplation? Arch. Yes, sir -this will give us reputation. Cher. Whoever he is, friend, he'll be but little
[Aside. Brings the box. the better for’t. Aim. Here, landlord; the locks are sealed Arch. I hope so; for I'm sure you did not think down, both for your security and mine: it holds of me. somewhat above two hundred pounds; if you
Cher. Suppose I had ! doubt it, i'll count them to you after supper : but Arch, Why, then, you're but even with me; for be sure you lay it where I may have it at a mi- the minute I came in, I was considering in what
affairs are a little dubi- manner I should make love to you. ous at present : perhaps I may be gore in half an Cher. Love to me, friend! hour; perhaps I may be your guest till the best part Arch. Yes, child of that be spent:-and, pray, order your ostler to Cher.Child! Manners!—if you keep a little more keep my horses ready saddled :—but one thing, distance, friend, it would become you much better. above the rest, I must beg,—that you will let this Arch. Distance! Good night, sauce-box (Going. fellow have none of your anno Domini, as you cah Cher. A pretty fellow ! I like his pride-Sir; it; for he's the most insufferable sot.-Here, şir- pray, sir ; you see, sir, (ARCH. returns] I have the rah, light me to my chamber.
credit to be trusted with your master's fortune Arch. Yes, sir. [Exit, lighted by ARCHER. here, which sets me a degree above his footman. Bon. Cherry, daughter Cherry !
- I hope, sir, you a'n't affronted. Enter CHERRY.
Arch. Let me look you full in the face, and I'H
tell you whether you can affront me or noCher. D’ye call, father?
'Sdeath! child, you have a pair of delicate eyes, Bon. Ay, child :-- you must lay by this box for and you don't know what to do with 'em. the gentleman ; 'tis full of money;
Cher. Why, sir, don't I see every body? Cher. Money ! is all that money? Why, sure, fa Arch. Ay, but if some women had them, they ther, the gentleman comes to be chosen parlia- would kill every body. —Pr’ythee instruct me; ment-man. Who is he?
I would fain make love to you, but I don't know Bon. I don't know wbat to make of him: he what to say. talks of keeping his horses ready saddled, and of Cher Why, did you never make love to any going, perhaps, at a minute's warning, or of stay- body before? ing, perhaps, till the best part of this be spent. Arch. Never to a person of your figure, I can Cher. Ay! ten to one, father, he's a highway- assure you, madam; my addresses have always
been confined to persons within my own sphere; Bon. A highwayman ! Upon my life, girl, you I never aspir’d so high before. (ARCHER sings. havę hit it, and this box is some new purchased booty.-Now, could we find him out, the money
But you look so bright,
And are dress'd so tight, Cher. He don't belong to our gang.
That a man would swear you're right, Bon. What horses have they?
As arm was e'er laid over.
Such an air
You freely wear, black mare ; and since he don't belong to our fra
To ensnare, ternity, we may betray him with a safe conscience.
As makes each guest a lover. I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but
Since, then, my dear, I'm your guest, my own. Look'e, child, as the saying is, we must
Pr’ythee give me of the best go cunningly to work : proofs we must have:
Of what is ready dress'd. the gentleman's servant loves drink; I'll ply him
Since, then, my dear, &c. that way; and ten to one he loves a wench'; you Cher. What can I think of this man? ( Aside. must work him t'other way.
Will you give me that song, sir?
Arch. Ay, my dear, take it while it is warm. (Kisses har. Death and fire! her lips are honeycombs.
Cher. And I wish there had been a gwarm of bees too, to have stung you for your impadence.
Arch. There's a swarm of Cupids, my little Venus, that has done the business much better.
Cher. This fellow is misbegotten, as well as I (Asiste.) What's your name, sir?
Arch. Name ! 'Egad, I have forgot it. Aside.]
Cher. Where was you born?
Arch. Upon what?
Arch. A fair challenge, by this light: this is a pretty fair opening of an adventure; but we are knight-errants, and so fortune be our guide.
SCENE I.-A Gallery in Lady BOUNTIFUL'S with my husband; or of spreading of plasters, House.
brewing of diet-drinks, and 'stilling rosemary-waMrs SULLEN and DORINDA, meeting.
ter, with the good old gentlewoman my mother
in-law ? Dor. Morrow, my dear sister; are you for Dor. I'm sorry, madam, that it is not more in church this morning?
our power to divert you: I could wish, indeed, Mrs Sul, Any where to pray ; for heaven alone that our entertainments were a little more polite, can help me: but I think, Dorinda, there's no or your taste a little less refined: but pray, maform of prayer in the liturgy against bad hus- dam, how came the poets and philosophers, that bands.
laboured so much in hunting after pleasure, to place Dor. But there's a form of law at Doctor's it at last in a country life? Commons; and I swear, sister Sullen, rather than Mrs Sul. Because they wanted money, child, see you thus continually discontented, I would ad to find out the pleasures of the town. Did you vise you to apply to that; for besides the part ever hear of a poet or philosopher worth ten that I bear in your vexatious broils, as being sis- thousand pounds? If you can shew me such a man, ter to the husband, and friend to the wife, your I'll lay you fifty pounds, you'll find him someexamples give me such an impression of matri- where within the weekly bills. Not that I disapmony, that I shall be apt to condemn my person prove rural pleasures, as the pocts have painted to a long vacation all its life. But supposing, them in their landscapes :-every Phyllis has her madam, that you brought it to a case of separa- Corydon; every murmuring stream and every tion, what can you urge against your husband ? flowery mead gives fresh alarm to love : Besides, My brother is, first, the most constant man alive. you'll find that their couples were never married.
Mrs Sul. The most constant husband, I grant-But yonder I see my Corydon; and a sweet swain ye.
it is, Heaven knows! Come, Dorinda, don't be Dor. He never sleeps from you.
angry; he's my husband, and your brother, and, Mrs Sul. No, he always sleeps with me. between both, is he not a sad brute?
Dor. He allows you a maintenance suitable to Dor. I have nothing to say to your part of your quality.
him; you're the best judge. Mrs Sul. A maintenance! Do you
Mrs Sul. O, sister, sister! if ever you mar| madam, for an hospital child, that I must sit down ry, beware of a sullen, silent sot; one that's al
and bless my benefactors for meat, drink, and ways musing, but never thinks. There's some di
clothes? As I take it, madam, I brought your version in a talking blockhead; and since a wo1
brother ten thousand pounds, out of which I man must wear chains, I would have the pleasure "might expect some pretty things, called pleasures of hearing 'em rattle a little. Now you shall
Dor. You share in all the pleasures the coun see:--but take this by the way :- he came home try affords.
this morning at his usual hour of four, wakened Mrs Sul. Country pleasures ! Racks and tor me out of a sweet dream of something else, by ments! Dost think, child, that my limbs were tumbling over the tea-table, which he broke all made for leaping of ditches, and clambering over to pieces. After his man and he had rolled about stiles ; or that my parents, wisely foreseeing my the room, like sick passengers in a storm, he future happiness in country pleasures had early comes flounce into bed, dead as a salmon into a instructed me in rural accomplishments, of drink fishmonger's basket; his feet cold as ice ; his ing fat ale, playing at whist, and smoking tobacco breath hot as a furnace; and his hapds and his fuce
greasy as his flannel night-cap -Oh! matrimony, | man dare not play the tyrant in London, because matrimony !-He tosses up the clothes, with a there are so many examples to encourage the barbarous swing, over his shoulders, disorders the subject to rebel. O, Dorinda, Dorinda ! a fine whole economy of my bed, leaves me half-naked, woman may do any thing in London. O my conand my whole night's comfort is the tuneable science, she may raise an army of forty thousand serenade of that wakeful nightingale his nose.
-O! the pleasure of counting a melancholy Dor. I fancy, sister, you have a mind to be tryclock by a snoring husband ! -But now, sister, ing your power that way here in Litchfield : you you shall see how handsomely, being a well-bred have drawn the French count to your colours al. man, he will beg nay pardon.
Mrs Sul. The French are a people that cann's Enter SULLEN.
live without their gallantries. Sul. My head aches consumedly.
Dor. And some English, that I know, sister, Mrs Sül. Will you be pleased, my dear, to are not averse to such amusements. drink tea with us this morning; it may do your Mrs Sul. Well, sister, since the truth must head yood ?
out, it may do as well now as hereafter: I think Sul. No.
one way to rouse my lethargic, sottish husband, Dor. Coffee, brother ?
is to give him a rival: security begets negligence Sul. Pshaw!
in all people; and men must be alarmed to make Mrs Sul. Will you please to dress, and go to 'em alert in their duty: women are, like pictures, church with me? 'the air may help you.
of no value in the hands of a fool, till he hears Sul. Scrub!
men of sense bid high for the purchase.
Dor. This might do, sister, if my brother's unEnter SCRUB.
derstanding were to be convinced into a passion Scrub. Sir!
for you; but, I believe, there's a natural averSul. What day of the week is this?
sion on his side; and I fancy, sister, that you Scrub. Sunday, an't please your worship. don't come much behind him, if you dealt fairly.
Sul. Sunday !--Bring me a dram; and, d'ye hear, Mrs Sul. I own it: we are united contradicset out the venison-pasty and a tankard of strong tions,-fire and water. But I could be contented, beer upon the hall-table; I'll go to breakfast. with a great many other wives, to humour the
(Going censorious vulgar, and give the world an appearDor. Stay, stay, brother;;
ance of living well with my husband, could I you were very naughty last night, and must make bring him but to dissemble a little kindness, to your wife reparation. Come, come, brother; keep me in countenance. won't you ask pardon?
Dor. But how do you know, sister, but that, Sul. For wliat?
instead of rousing your husband, by this artifice, Dor. For being drunk last night.
to a counterfeit kindness, he should awake in Sul. I can afford it, cann't I?
a real fury? Mrs Sul. But I cann't, sir.
Mrs Sul. Let him.If I cann't entice him Sul. Then you may let it alone.
to the one, I would provoke him to the other. Mrs Sul. But I must tell you, sir, that this is Dor. But how must I behave myself between not to be borne. Sul. I'm glad on't.
Mrs Sul. You must assist me. Mrs Sul. What is the reason, sir, that
Dor. What! against my own brother? use me thus inhumanly?
Mrs Sul. He's but half a brother, and I'm Sul. Scrub!
your entire friend. If I go a step beyond the Scrub. Sir!
bounds of honour, leave me; till then, I expect Sul. Get things ready to shave my head. you should go along with me in every thing.
(Erit. - The count is to dine here to-day.
Dor. 'Tis a strange thing, sister, that I cann't ples, Scrub, for fear you meet something there like that man. that may turn the edge of your razor. (Exit Mrs Sul. You like nothing; your time is not SCRUB.] Inveterate stupidity! Did you ever know come. Love and death have their fatalities, and so hard, so obstinate a spleen as his? O, sister, strike home one time or other. You'll pay for sister! I shall never have any good of the beast all one day, I warrant ye.
::-But come, my lady's till I get him to town: London, dear London, tea is ready, and 'tis almost church-time. is the place for managing and breaking a hus
[Ereunt, band. Dor. And has not a husband the same oppor
SCENE II.-The Inn. tunities there for humbling a wife? Mrs Sul. No, no, child, 'tis a standing maxim
Enter AIMWELL, dressed, and ARCHER. in conjugal discipline, that when a man would Aim. And was she the daughter of the house ? enslave his wife, he hurries her into the country; Arch. The landlord is so blind as to think so; and when a lady would be arbitrary with her but I dare swear she has better blood in her husband, she wheedles ber booby up to town. A veins,
Mrs Sul llave a care of coming near bilderna
Aim. Why dost think so ?
can any woman wheedle that is not young? Your Arch. Because the baggage has a pert je ne sçai mother was useless at five-and-twenty. Would quoi; she reads plays, keeps a monkey, and is you make your mother a whore, and me a cucktroubled with vapours.
old, as the saying is? I tell you, his silence conAim. By which discoveries I guess that you fesses it, and his master spends his money so know more of ber.
freely, and is so much a gentleman every manArch. Not yet, faith. The lady gives herself ner of way, that he must be a highwayman. airs, forsooth:-nothing under a gentleman. Aim. Let me take her in hand.
Enter GIBBET, in a Cloak. Arch. Say one word more o'that, and I'll de Gib. Landlord, landlord, is the coast clear? clare myself, spoil your sport there, and every Bon. 0, Mr Gibbet! what's the news? where else.—Look ye, Aimwell, every man in Gib. No matter; ask no questions; all's fair and his own sphere.
honourable:-here, my dear Cherry, [Gives her a Aim. Right, and therefore you must pimp for bag] two hundred sterling pounds, as good as your master.
ever hanged or saved a rogue; lay 'em by with Arch. In the usual forms, good sir; after I have the rest; and here--three wedding or mourning served myself.—But to our business. You are so rings ; 'tis much the same, you know.—Here, well dress’d, Tom, and make so handsome a fi two silver-hilted swords; I took these from felgure, that I fancy you may do execution in a coun lows that never shew any part of their swords but try church: the exterior part strikes first, and the hilts.—Here is a diamond necklace, which the you're in the right to make that impression fa- lady bid in the
privatest place in the coach, but I vourable.
found it out.—Thisgold watch I took from a pawnAim. There's something in that which may broker's wife; it was left in her hands by a perturn to advantage. The appearance of a stranger son of quality; there's the arms upon the case. in a country church draws as many gazers as a Cher. But who had you the money from? blazing star:- no sooner he comes into the cathe Gib. Ah! poor woman, I pitied her: -from dral, but a train of whispers runs buzzing round a poor lady, just eloped from her husband; she the congregation in a moment. Who
is he? had made up her cargo, and was bound for IreWhence comes he? Do you know him ?-Then I, land, as hard as she could drive: she told me of sir, tips me the verger half-a-crown; he pockets her husband's barbarous usage, and so, faith, I the simony, and inducts me into the best pew in left her half-a-crown.—But I had almost forgot, the church: I pull out my snuff-box, turn myself my dear Cherry, I have a present for you. round, bow to the bishop, or the dean, if he be Cher. What is't? the commanding officer, single out a beauty, rivet Gib. A pot of ceruse, my child, that I took out both my eyes to hers, set my nose a-bleeding by of a lady's under-petticoat pocket. the strength of imagination, and shew the whole Cher. What, Mr Gibbet, do you think that I church my concern, by my endeavouring to hide paint ? it:-after the serion, the whole town gives me to Gib. Why, you jade, your betters do: I'm sure her for a lover, and, by persuading the lady that the lady that I took it from had a coronet upon I am dying for her, the tables are turned, and she, her handkerchief —Here, take my cloak, and in good earnest, falls in love with me.
go secure the premises. Arch. There's nothing in this, Tom, without a Cher. I will secure 'em.
(Exit. precedent : but instead of rivetting your eyes to Bon. But, hark ye, where's Hounslow and Baga beauty, try to fix them upon a fortune ; that's shot ?
Gib. They'll be here to-night. Aim. Pshaw! no woman can be a beauty with Bon. D'ye know of any other gentlemen o’the 1 out a fortune. Let me alone for a marksman. pad on this road? Arch. Tom !
Gib. No. Aim. Ay!
Bon. I fancy that I have two that lodge in the Arch. When were you at church before, pray ? house just now. Aim. Um.--I was there at the coronation. Gib. The devil ! how d'ye smoke 'em?
Arch. And how can you expect a blessing by Bon. Why, the one is gone to church. going to church now?
Gib. To church! That's suspicious, I must conAim. Blessing! Nay, Frank, I ask but for a fess.
[Erit. Bon. And the other is now in his master's chamArch. Truly, the man is not very unreasonable ber; he pretends to be a servant to the other : [Exit, at the opposite door. we'll call him out, and pump him a little.
Gib. With all my heart.
Bon. Mr Martin! Mr Martin !
Enter ARCHER, combing a periwig, and singing. Cher. Pray, father, don't put me upon getting Gib. The roads are consumed deep: I'm as dirany thing out of a man; I'm but young, you know, ty as Old Brentford at Christmas.
A good, father, and don't understand wheedling. pretty fellow, that.- Whose servant are you, friend?
Bon. Young! Why, yon jade, as the saying is, Arch. My master's.
our business at present.
in his demands,