Sharp. How! [Angrily. Sir Jo. Stay, stay, sir, let me recollect-He's a damn'd angry fellow-I believe I had better remember him till I can get out of his sight-but out o' sight out o' mind, egad. [Aside. Sharp. Methought the service I did you last night, sir, in preserving you from those ruffians, might have taken better root in your shallow memory. Sir Jo. Gads-daggers, belts, blades, and scabbards, this is the very gentleman!-How shall I make him a return suitable to the greatness of his merit-I had a pretty thing to that purpose, if he ha'n't frighted it out of my memory.-Hem, hem. -Sir, I must submissively implore your pardon for my transgression of ingratitude and omission; having my entire dependence, sir, upon the superfluity of your goodness, which, like an inundation, will, I hope, totally immerge the recollection of my error, and leave me floating in your sight upon the full-blown bladders of repentance, by the help of which, I shall once more hope to swim into your favour. [Bows. Sharp. So-h-O, sir, I am easily pacified: the acknowledgment of a gentleman Sir Jo. Acknowledgment, sir! I am all over acknowledgment, and will not stick to shew it in the greatest extremity, by night or by day, in sickness or in health, winter or summer; all sea. sons and occasions shall testify the reality and gratitude of your superabundant humble servant, Sir Joseph Wittol, knight—Hem, hem. Sharp. Sir Joseph Wittol? Sir Jo. The same, sir, of Wittol Hall, in comitatu Bucks. Sharp. Is it possible!-Then I am happy to have obliged the mirror of knighthood and pink of courtesy in the age-Let me embrace you. Sir Jo. O Lord, sir! Sharp. My loss I esteem as a trifle repaid with interest, since it has purchased me the friendship and acquaintance of the person in the world whose character I admire. Sir Jo. You are only pleased to say so, sir.But pray, if I may be so bold, what is that loss you mention? Sharp. O, term it no longer so, sir-In the scuffle last night I only dropt a bill of a hundred pound, which, I confess, I came half despairing to recover; but, thanks to my better fortune-- Sir Jo. You have found it, sir, then, it seems: I profess I'm heartily glad Sharp. Sir, your humble servant---I don't question but you are, that you have so cheap an opportunity of expressing your gratitude and generosity; since the refunding so trivial a sum will wholly acquit you, and doubly engage me. Sir Jo. What a dickins does he mean by a trivial sum! [Aside.]--But have you found it, sir? Sharp. No otherwise, I vow to Gad, but in my hopes in you, sir. Sir Jo. Hum ! Sharp. But that's sufficient-.'Twere injustice to doubt the honour of Sir Joseph Wittol. Sir Jo. O Lord, sir! Sharp. You are above, I'm sure, a thought so low, to suffer me to lose what was ventured in your service: nay, 'twas in a manner paid down for your deliverance; 'twas so much lent you-and you scorn, I'll say that for you— Sir Jo. Nay, I'll say that for myself, (with your leave, sir,) I do scorn a dirty thing.--But, egad, I'm a little out of pocket at present. Sharp. Psha! you cann't want a hundred pound. Your word is sufficient any were. 'Tis but borrowing so much dirt: you have large acres, and can soon repay it.--Money is but dirt, Sir Joseph---mere dirt. Sir Jo. But, I profess, 'tis a dirt I have washed my hands of at present: I have laid it all out upon my back. Sharp. Are you so extravagant in clothes, Sir Joseph? Sir Jo. Ha, ha, ha, a very good jest, I profess! ha, ha, ha, a very good jest! and I did not know that I had said it, and that's a better jest than t'other. 'Tis a sign you and I ha'n't been long acquainted: you have lost a good jest for want of knowing me-I only mean a friend of mine whom I call my Back; he sticks as close to me, and follows me through all dangers--he is indeed back, breast, and head-piece, as it were, to me-egad, he's a brave fellow--Paugh, I am quite another thing when I am with him: I don't fear the devil, (God bless us) almost, if he be by.-Ah, had he been with me last night Sharp. If he had, sir, what then? he could have done no more, nor perhaps have suffer'd so much---Had he a hundred pound to lose? [Angrily. Sir Jo. O Lord, sir, by no means--But I might have saved a hundred pound---[Aside.]--I meant innocently, as I hope to be saved, sir--A damn'd hot fellow---[Aside.]---only, as I was saying, I let him have all my ready money, to redeem his great sword from limbo.---But, sir, I have a letter of credit to Alderman Fondlewife, as far as two hundred pound; and, this afternoon, you shall see I am a person, such a one as you would wish to have met with. Sharp. That you are, I'll be sworn. [Aside.]--Why, that's great, and like yourself. Enter BLUFFE. Sir Jo. O, here he comes !--Ay, my Hector of Troy! welcome, my bully, my back; egad, my heart has gone a-pit-pat for thee. Bluff. How now, my young knight ?---not for fear, I hope : he that knows me must be a stranger to fear. Sir Jo. Nay, egad, I hate fear, ever since I had like to have died of a fright.-But Bluff. But, look you here, boy; here's your antidote, here's your jesuit's powder for a shaking fit. But who hast thou got with thee? is he of mettle? [Laying his hand upon his sword. Sir Jo. Ay, bully, a devilish smart fellow; and will fight like a cock. Bluff. Say you so? then I honour him.-But has he been abroad? for every cock will fight upon his own dunghill. Sir Jo. I don't know; but I'll present youBluff. I'll recommend myself.-Sir, I honour you: I understand you love fighting: I reverence a man that loves fighting: Sir, I kiss your hilts. Sharp. Sir, your servant; but you are misinform'd; for, unless it be to serve my particular friend, as Sir Joseph here, my country, or my refigion, or in some very justifiable cause, I'm not for it. Bluff. O Lord, I beg your pardon, sir; I find you are not of my palate; you cann't relish a dish of fighting without sweet sauce. Now, I think, Fighting for fighting's sake's sufficient cause; Fighting to me's religion and the laws. if Nol. Bluffe had not been in the land of the living! Sharp. Strange! Sir Jo. Yet, by the Lord Harry, it's true, Mr Sharper; for I went every day to coffee-houses to read the gazette myself. Bluff. Ay, ay, no matter---You see, Mr Sharper, after all I am content to retire-live a private person---Scipio and others have done it." Sharp. Impudent rogue! [Aside. Sir Jo. Ay, this damn'd modesty of yours--Egad, if he would put in for't, he might be made general himself yet. Bluff. O fie! no, Sir Joseph; you know I hate this. Sir Jo. Let me but tell Mr Sharper a little how you ate fire out of the mouth of a cannon--egad he did: those impenetrable whiskers of his have confronted flames Bluff. Death! what do you mean, Sir Joseph ? Sir Jo. Ah, well said, my hero---Was not that great, sir?-By the Lord Harry, he says true: fighting is meat, drink, and cloth to him.---But, Back, this gentleman is one of the best friends I have in the world, and saved my life last night-dest he'll own nothing. You know, I told you. Bluff. Ay! then I honour him again.--Sir, may I crave your name? Sharp. Ay, sir, my name's Sharper. Sir Jo. Pray, Mr Sharper, embrace my Back--very well-By the Lord Harry, Mr Sharper, he's as brave a fellow as Cannibal---Are not you, bully Back? Sharp. Hannibal I believe you mean, Sir Joseph. Bluff. Undoubtedly he did, sir: faith, Hannibal was a very pretty fellow--But, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious-Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days, it must be granted; but, alas, sir! were he alive now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth. Sharp. How, sir!--I make a doubt if there be at this day a greater general breathing. Bluff. O, excuse me, sir--Have you served abroad, sir? Sharp. Not I, really, sir. Bluff. O, I thought so---Why then you can know nothing, sir: I'm afraid you scarce know the history of the late war in Flanders, with all its particulars. Sharp. Not I, sir, no more than public letters or the gazette tell us. Bluff. Gazette !---Why there again now-Why, sir, there are not three words of truth, the year round, put into the gazette.---I'll tell you a strange thing now as to that--You must know, sir, I was resident in Flanders the last campaign---had a small post there; but no matter for that---Perhaps, sir, there was scarce any thing of moment done but an humble servant of yours, that shall be nameless, was an eye-witness of--I won't say had the greatest share in't; though I might say that too, since I name nobody, you know.---Well, Mr Sharper, would you think it? in all this time, as I hope for a truncheon, this rascally gazettewriter never so much as once mention'd me--not once, by the wars---took no more notice than as Bluff. Pish! you have put me out; I have forgot what I was about. Pray hold your tongue, and give me leave[Angrily. Sir Jo. I am dumb. Bluff. This sword, I think I was telling you of, Mr Sharper--This sword I'll maintain to be the best divine, anatomist, lawyer, or casuist, in Eu. rope: it shall decide a controversy or split a cause Sir Jo. Nay, now I must speak--it will split a hair; by the Lord Harry, I have seen it. Bluff Zounds, sir, it's a lie, you have not seen it, nor sha'n't see it: Sir, I say you cann't see: what d'ye say to that now? Sir Jo. I am blind. me Bluff. Death! had any other man interrupted Sir Jo. Good Mr Sharper, speak to him; I dare not look that way. Sharp. Captain, Sir Joseph's penitent. Bluff. O, I am calm, sir, calm as a discharged culverin---But 'twas indiscreet, when you know what will provoke me---Nay, come, Sir Joseph, you know my heat's soon over. Sir Jo. Well, I'm a fool sometimes---But I'm sorry Bluff. Enough. Sir Jo. Come, we'll go take a glass to drown animosities.-Mr Sharper, will you partake? Sharp. I wait on you, sir--Nay, pray, captain--you are sir Joseph's back. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Changes to Lodgings. Enter ARAMINTA and BELINDA. Belin. Ah! nay, dear-pr'ythee, good, dear, sweet cousin, no more.-O, Gad! I swear you'd make one sick to hear you. Aram. Bless me! what have I said to move you thus? Belin. O, you have raved, talk'd idly, and all in commendation of that filthy, awkward, two legg'd creature, man-You don't know what you said; your fever has transported you. Arum. If love be the fever which you mean, kind Heaven avert the cure: Let me have oil to feed that flame, and never let it be extinct till I myself am ashes. Belin. There was a whine!-O Gad, I hate your horrid fancy-This love is the devil; and, sure, to be in love is to be possess'd-'Tis in the head, the heart, the blood, the-all overO Gad, you are quite spoil'd!-I shall loath the sight of mankind for your sake. Aram. Fie! this is gross affectation-A little of Bellmour's company would change the scene. Belin. Filthy fellow !-I wonder, cousinAram. I wonder, cousin, you should imagine I don't perceive you love him. Belin. O, I love your hideous fancy !—Ha, ha, ha!-love a man! Aram. Love a man!-yes, you would not love a beast? Belin. Of all beasts not an ass-v s-which is so like your Vainlove-Lard, I have seen an ass look so chagrin-ha, ha, ha !-(you must pardon me, I cann't help laughing,) that an absolute lover would have concluded the poor creature to have had darts, and flames, and altars, and all that in his breast.-Araminta, come, I'll talk seriously to you now: Could you but see with my eyes the buffoonery of one scene of address, a lover, set out with all his equipage and appurtenances, O Gad! sure you would-But you play the game, and, consequently, cann't see the miscarriages obvious to every stander-by. Aram. Yes, yes, I can see something near it when you and Bellmour meet.-You don't know that dreamt of Bellmour last night, and call'd you him aloud in your sleep? Belin. Pish! I cann't help dreaming of the devil sometimes: would you from thence infer I love him? Aram. But that's not all: you caught me in your arms when you named him, and pressed me to your bosom-Sure, if I had not pinch'd till you you waked, you had stifled me with kisses. Belin. O barbarous aspersion! Arum. No aspersion, cousin; we are alone Nay, I can tell you more. Belin. I deny it all. Aram. What, before you hear it? Belin. My denial is premeditated, like your malice.-Lard, cousin, you talk oddly-Whatever the matter is, o' my soul, I'm afraid you'll follow evil courses. Aram. Ha, ha, ha! this is pleasant. Aram. Ha, ha, ha! Belin. You think the malicious grin becomes you-The devil take Bellmour-why do you tell me of him? Aram. O, is it come out?-Now you are angry, I am sure you love him.-I tell nobody else, cousin-I have not betray'd you yet. Belin. Pr'ythee tell it all the world: it's false. -Betty! [Calls. Aram. Come then, kiss and friends. Aram. Pr'ythee don't be so peevish. Enter BETTY. Bet. Did your ladyship call, madam? Belin. Get my hoods and tippet, and bid the footman call a chair. [Exit BETTY. Arum. I hope you are not going out in dudgeon, cousin? Enter Footman. Foot. Madam, there are Belin. Is there a chair? Foot. No, madam, there are Mr Bellmour and Mr Vainlove to wait upon your ladyship. Aram. Are they below? Foot. No, madam, they sent before, to know if you were at home. Belin. The visit's to you, cousin; I suppose I am at my liberty. Aram. Be ready to shew 'em up.-[Exit Footman.]-I cann't tell, cousin; I believe we are equally concerned: but if you continue your hu mour, it won't be very entertaining.I know she'd fain be persuaded to stay. [Aside. Belin. I shall oblige you, in leaving you to the full and free enjoyment of that conversation you admire. Enter BETTY with Hoods and Looking-Glass. Belin. Let me see-hold the glass-Lard, I look wretchedly to-day! Aram. Betty, why don't you help my cousin? [Putting on her hoods. Belin. Hold off your fists, and see that he gets a chair with a high roof, or a very low seatStay; come back here, you, Mrs Fidget-You are so ready to go to the footman- -Here, take 'em all again; my mind's changed; I won't go. [Exit BETTY with the things. Aram. So, this I expected.-You won't oblige me then, cousin, and let me have all the compa ny to myself? Belin. No; upon deliberation, I have too much charity to trust you to yourself. The devil watches all opportunities; and, in this favourable disposi tion of your mind, Heaven knows how far you may be tempted-I am tender of your reputation. Aram. I am obliged to you-But who's malicious now, Belinda? Belin. Not I: witness, my heart, I stay out of pure affection. Aram. In my conscience, I believe you. Enter BELLMOUR and VAINLOVE. Bell. So, fortune be praised!-To find you both within, ladies, is Aram. No miracle, I hope. Bell. Not o' your side, madam, I confessBut my tyrant there and I are two buckets that can never come together. Belin. Nor are ever like-Yet we often meet and clash, Bell. How, never like! marry, Hymen forbid. But this it is to run so extravagantly in debt; I have laid out such a world of love in your service, that you think you can never be able to pay me all: So shun me for the same reason that you would a dun. Belin. Ay, on my conscience, and the most impertinent and troublesome of duns-A dun for money will be quiet, when he sees his debtor has not wherewithal-But a dun for love is an eternal torment that never rests Bell. Till he has created love where there was none, and then gets it for his pains. For importunity in love, like importunity at court, first creates its own interest, and then pursues it for the favour. Aram. Favours that are got by impudence and importunity, are like discoveries from the rack, when the afflicted person, for his ease, sometimes confesses secrets his heart knows nothing of. Vain. I should rather think favours, so gained, to be due rewards to indefatigable devotionFor, as love is a deity, he must be served by prayer. Belin. O Gad, would you would all pray to love then, and let us alone! Vain. You are the temples of love, and 'tis through you our devotion must be convey'd. Arum. Rather poor silly idols of your own making, which, upon the least displeasure, you forsake, and set up new-Every man, now, changes his mistress and his religion, as his humour varies or his interest. Bell. Humph! I thought so, that you might have all the talk to yourself-you had better let me speak; for, if my thoughts fly to any pitch, I shall make villainous signs. Belin. What will you get by that? to make such signs as I won't understand. Bell. Ay, but if I'm tongue-tied, I must have all my actions free to- -quicken your apprehension; and egad let me tell you, my most prevailing argument is expressed in dumb shew. Enter Music-Master. Aram. O I am glad we shall have a song to divert the discourse—Pray oblige us with the last new song. SONG. Thus to a ripe, consenting maid, Poor, old, repenting Delia said, Would you long preserve your lover, Would you still his goddess reign, Never let him all discover, Never let him much obtain. Men will admire, adore and die, Wakes 'em from the golden dream ; Aram. So, how d'ye like the song, gentlemen? much admire the words. Aram. I expected it- -there's too much truth in 'em: If Mr Gavot will walk with us in the garden, we'll have it once again-You may like it better at second hearing. You'll bring my cousin. Bell. Faith, madam, I dare not speak to her, but I'll make signs. [Addresses BELINDA in dumb shew. Belin. O foh! your dumb rhetoric is more ridiculous than your talking impertinence; as an ape is a much more troublesome animal than a parrot. Aram. Ay, cousin, and 'tis a sign the creatures mimick nature well; for there are few men but do more silly things than they say. Bell. Well, I find my apishness has paid the ransome for my speech, and set it at libertyThough, I confess, I could be well enough pleased to drive on a love-bargain in that silent manner-'twould save a man a world of lying and swearing at the year's end. Besides, I have had a little experience, that brings to my mind When wit and reason, both, have failed to SCENE I.-The Street. Enter SILVIA and LUCY. ACT III. Silv. Will he not come then? Lucy. Yes, yes, come, I warrant him, if you go in and be ready to receive him. Silv. Why, did you not tell me--Whom mean you? will Lucy. Whom you should mean-Heartwell. Silv. Senseless creature, I meant my Vainlove. Lucy. You may as soon hope to recover your own maidenhead as his love. Therefore e'en set your heart at rest, and, in the name of oppor. tunity, mind your own business. Strike Heartwell home, before the bait's worn off the hook. Age will come. He nibbled fairly yesterday, and no doubt will be eager enough to-day, to swallow the temptation. Silv. Well, since there's no remedy-Yet tell me-For I would know, though to the anguish of my soul, how did he refuse? Tell me-how did he receive my letter, in anger or in scorn? Lucy. Neither; but what was ten times worse, with damned, senseless indifference. By this light I could have spit in his face--Receive it! why he received it as I would one of your lovers that should come empty-handed; as a court lord does his mercer's bill, or a begging dedication :he received it, as if't had been a letter from his wife. Silv. What, did he not read it? Lucy. Hummed it over, gave you his respects, and said he would take time to peruse it but then he was in haste. Silv. Respects, and peruse it! He's gone, and Araminta has bewitched him from me-Oh how the name of rival fires my blood--I could curse 'em both; eternal jealousy attend her love, and disappointment meet his lust! Oh that I could revenge the torment he has caused !-Methinks I feel the woman strong within me, and vengeance itches in the room of love. Lucy. I have that in my head may make mischief. Silv. How, dear Lucy? Lucy. You know Araminta's dissembled coyness has won, and keeps him hers Silv. Could we persuade him that she loves another Lucy. No, you're out; could we persuade him, that she doats on him himself-Contrive a kind letter as from her, 'twould disgust his nicety, and take away his stomach. Silv. Impossible; 'twill never take. Lucy. Trouble not your head, Let me alone -I will inform myself of what past between 'em to-day, and about it streight-Hold! I'm mistaken, or that's Heartwell who stands talking at the corner-'tis he-go get you in, madam ; receive him pleasantly, dress up your face in innocence and smiles, and dissemble the very want of dissimulation-You know what will take him. Sito. 'Tis as hard to counterfeit love, as it is to conceal it: but I'll do my weak endeavour, though I fear I have not art. Lucy. Hang art, madam, and trust to nature for dissembling. Man was by nature woman's cully made: Enter HEARTWELL, VAINLOVE and BELLMOUR following. Bell. Hist, hist, is not that Heartwell going to Silvia? Vain. He's talking to himself, I think; prʼythec let's try if we can hear him. Heart. Why whither in the devil's name am I a-going now? Hum-Let me think-Is not this Silvia's house, the cave of that enchantress, and which consequently I ought to shun as I would infection? To enter here, is to put on the envenomed shirt, to run into the embraces of a fever, and, in some raving fits, be led to plunge myself into that more consuming fire, a woman's arms. Ha! well recollected, I will recover my reason, and be gone. Beil. Now Venus forbid ! Heart. Well, why do you not move? Feet, do your office- Not one inch; no, 'foregad I'm caught-There stands my north, and thither my needle pointsNow could I curse myself, yet cannot repent. O thou delicious, damn'd, dear, destructive woman! 'Sdeath, how the young fellows will hoot me! I shall be the jest of the town: nay, in two days, I expect to be chronicled in ditty, and sung in woeful ballad, to the tune of "The Superannuated Maiden's Comfort," or "The Batchelor's Fall;" and upon the third, I shall be hanged in effigy, pasted up for the exemplary ornament of necessary-houses and coblers' stalls-Death! I cann't think on't—I'll run into the danger to lose the apprehension. [Goes in. Bell. A very certain remedy, probatum estHa, ha, ha, poor George! thou art i'the right, thou hast sold thyself to laughter: the ill-natured town will find the jest just where thou hast lost it. Ha, ha, ha! how he struggled, like an old lawyer between two fees. Vain. Or a young wench, between pleasure and reputation. Bell. Or as you did to-day, when, half afraid, you snatched a kiss from Araminta. Vain. She has made a quarrel on't. Bell. Pauh! women are only angry at such offences, to have the pleasure of forgiving 'em. |