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 thec! [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 any 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 block head, 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. 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! Sco. 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 rogue enough. Luc. You're grown very much out of humour with wit, Scapin; I hope your's has done you no prejudice of late? Sca. 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 divertisements which has been very scarce here hitherto, Enter SHIFT, with a Sack. Sca. Oh, Shiftl Shift. Speak not too loud; my master's coming. Sca. I'm glad on't, I shall teach him to betray the secrets of his friend. If any man puts a trick upon me without return, may I lose this nose! Shift. I wonder at thy valour; thou art continually venturing that body of thine, to the indignity of bruises, and indecent bastinadoes. Gripe. What's the matter, man? Sca. Heaven! is this a time to ask questions? Sca. They are every way looking out for you. Sca. The brother of her whom your son has married; he's a captain of a privateer, who has all sorts of rogues, English, Scotch, Welch, in wait now, or searching for you to kill you Irish, French, under his command, and all lying because you would null the marriage: they run up and down crying, Where is the rogue Gripe? Where is the dog? Where is the slave Gripe? They watch for you so narrowly, that there's no getting home to your house. Gripe. Oh, Scapin! what shall I do? What will become of me? 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! Sca. Hum! 'tis none of them. Gripe. Canst thou find no way for my escape, dear Scapin. Sca. I think I have found one. Gripe. Good Scapin, show thyself a man, now, Sca. I shall venture being most immoderately beaten. Gripe. Dear Scapin, do: I will reward thee bounteously: I'll give the this suit, when I have 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, whatever happens: I'll carry you as a bundle of goods, through all your enemies, to the major's house of the castle. Gripe. An admirable invention! Oh! Lord! quick. [Gets into the sack. 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, book 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. You lie, sir, look you, and hur will give you beatings and chastisements, for your contradictions, 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. Now, the Devil take me, I swear by him that made me, if thou dost not tell where is Gripe, but I will beat thy father's child very much indeed! 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. 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, baut lugs and naes. Why, truly sir, I know not where he is; but he went dowu that Lane. This lone, saun 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! Gripe. Oh! oh! 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. If there be no more men in England, I vill kill him two tree pushe in de gutte. him; I vill put my rapier in his body. I vill give 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 for| ward. Hold, here is his man; where is your master-Dumn me, where? In hell? Speak Hold, not so furiously-and you don't tell us Do what you will, gentlemen I know not. 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 impudence! Enter THRIFTY. Oh, brother Thrifty! You come to see me loaden brings all into my memory. of the same sum. 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. low? 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, 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 mis-kiss her, man; odsbodikins, when I was a young fortune is the forerunner of another: Just now fellow, and was first married, I did nothing else I have received letters from London, that both for three months. 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. Cia. 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 arrival. 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 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? pressible grief that I should dare to lift my band against 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. Sea. 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. Ι 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. |