Part 6

_Young Fash._ Well, Nurse, whilst you go and settle Matters with him, your Lady and I will go and take a walk in the Garden.

_Nurse._ I'll do your Honour's Business in the catching up of a Garter.

[_Exit ~Nurse~._

_Young Fash._ [_Giving her his Hand._] Come, Madam, dare you venture yourself alone with me?

_Miss._ O dear, yes, Sir; I don't think you'll do any thing to me I need be afraid on.

_Enter ~Amanda~ and ~Berinthia~._

A SONG.

I.

_I Smile at Love, and all its Arts, The Charming_ Cynthia _cry'd; Take heed, for Love has piercing Darts, A wounded Swain reply'd. Once free and blest as you are now, I trifled with his Charms; I pointed at his little Bow, And sported with his Arms; Till urg'd too far, Revenge he cries, A fated Shaft he drew; It took its passage thro your Eyes, And to my Heart it flew._

II.

_To tear it thence I try'd in vain; To strive I quickly found Was only to increase the Pain, And to enlarge the Wound. Ah! much too well, I fear, you know What pain I'm to endure, Since what your Eyes alone cou'd do, Your Heart alone can cure. And That (grant Heaven I may mistake) I doubt is doom'd to bear A Burden for another's sake, Who ill rewards its Care._

_Aman._ Well, now, _Berinthia_, I'm at leisure to hear what 'twas you had to say to me.

_Ber._ What I had to say, was only to echo the Sighs and Groans of a dying Lover.

_Aman._ Phu, will you never learn to talk in earnest of any thing?

_Ber._ Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my part, I only tell you Matter of Fact--you may take it which way you like best; but if you'll follow the Women of the Town, you'll take it both ways; for when a Man offers himself to one of them, first she takes him in jest, and then she takes him in earnest.

_Aman._ I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what you say to me, I scarce know how to take it; but I think you have bewitched me, for I don't find it possible to be angry with you, say what you will.

_Ber._ I'm very glad to hear it, for I have no mind to quarrel with you, for some Reasons that I'll not brag of; but quarrel or not, smile or frown, I must tell you what I have suffer'd upon your account.

_Aman._ Upon my account!

_Ber._ Yes, upon yours; I have been forc'd to sit still and hear you commended for two Hours together, without one Compliment to myself; now don't you think a Woman has a blessed time of that?

_Aman._ Alas! I shou'd have been unconcern'd at it; I never knew where the Pleasure lay of being prais'd by the Men: but pray who was this that commended me so?

_Ber._ One you have a mortal Aversion to--Mr. _Worthy_: he us'd you like a Text, he took you all to pieces, but spoke so learnedly upon every Point, one might see the Spirit of the Church was in him: if you are a Woman, you'd have been in an Extasy to have heard how feelingly he handled your Hair, your Eyes, your Nose, your Mouth, your Teeth, your Tongue, your Chin, your Neck, and so forth. Thus he preach'd for an Hour; but when he came to use an Application, he observ'd that all these, without a Gallant, were nothing--Now consider of what has been said, and Heaven give you Grace to put it in practice!

_Aman._ Alas! _Berinthia_, did I incline to a Gallant, (which you know I do not) do you think a Man so nice as he, cou'd have the least concern for such a plain unpolish'd thing as I am? It is impossible!

_Ber._ Now have you a great mind to put me upon commending you.

_Aman._ Indeed that was not my Design.

_Ber._ Nay, if it were, it's all one, for I won't do't, I'll leave that to your Looking-glass. But to shew you I have some Good-nature left, I'll commend him, and may be that may do as well.

_Aman._ You have a great mind to persuade me I am in love with him.

_Ber._ I have a great mind to persuade you, you don't know what you are in love with.

_Aman._ I am sure I am not in love with him, nor never shall be; so let that pass: but you were saying something you wou'd commend him for.

_Ber._ O, you'd be glad to hear a good Character of him, however.

_Aman._ Psha.

_Ber._ Psha----Well, 'tis a foolish Undertaking for Women in these kind of Matters, to pretend to deceive one another----Have not I been bred a Woman as well as you?

_Aman._ What then?

_Ber._ Why then I understand my Trade so well, that whenever I am told of a Man I like, I cry, Psha! But that I may spare you the pains of putting me a second time in mind to commend him, I'll proceed, and give you this account of him: That tho' 'tis possible he may have had Women with as good Faces as your Ladyship's, (no Discredit to it neither) yet you must know your cautious Behaviour, with that Reserve in your Humour, has given him his Death's Wound; he mortally hates a Coquette; he says 'tis impossible to love where he cannot esteem; and that no Woman can be esteemed by a Man who has Sense, if she makes herself cheap in the Eye of a Fool. That Pride to a Woman, is as necessary as Humility to a Divine; and that far-fetch'd, and dear bought, is Meat for Gentlemen, as well as for Ladies----In short, that every Woman who has Beauty may set a price upon herself, and that by under-selling the Market they ruin the Trade. This is his Doctrine, how do you like it?

_Aman._ So well that, since I never intend to have a Gallant for myself, if I were to recommend one to a Friend, he shou'd be the Man.

_Enter ~Worthy~._

Bless me, he's here! pray Heaven he did not hear me!

_Ber._ If he did, it won't hurt your Reputation; your Thoughts are as safe in his Heart as in your own.

_Wor._ I venture in at an unseasonable time of Night, Ladies; I hope if I am troublesome, you'll use the same freedom in turning me out again.

_Aman._ I believe it can't be late, for Mr. _Loveless_ is not come home yet, and he usually keeps good Hours.

_Wor._ Madam, I'm afraid he'll transgress a little to-night; for he told me about half an Hour ago, he was going to sup with some Company, he doubted would keep him out till three or four o'clock in the Morning, and desir'd I would let my Servant acquaint you with it, that you might not expect him: But my Fellow's a Blunder-head; so, lest he should make some mistake, I thought it my Duty to deliver the Message myself.

_Aman._ I'm very sorry he shou'd give you that trouble, Sir: But----

_Ber._ But since he has, will you give me leave, Madam, to keep him to play at Ombre with us?

_Aman._ Cousin, you know you command my House.

_Wor. to Ber._] And, Madam, you know you command me, tho' I'm a very wretched Gamester.

_Ber._ O you play well enough to lose your Money, and that's all the Ladies require; so without any more Ceremony, let us go into the next Room and call for the Cards.

_Aman._ With all my heart.

[_Exit ~Wor~. leading ~Aman~._

_Ber. sola._ Well, how this Business will end, Heaven knows; but she seems to me to be in as fair a way----as a Boy is to be a Rogue, when he's put Clerk to an Attorney.

[_Exit ~Berinthia~._

+SCENE+, Berinthia's _Chamber_.

_Enter ~Loveless~ cautiously in the dark._

_Lov._ So, thus for all's well. I'm got into her Bed-Chamber, and I think nobody has perceiv'd me steal into the House; my Wife don't expect me home till four o'Clock; so if _Berinthia_ comes to Bed by eleven, I shall have a Chace of five Hours. Let me see, where shall I hide myself? Under her Bed? No; we shall have her Maid searching there for something or other; her Closet's a better place, and I have a Master-Key will open it: I'll e'en in there, and attack her just when she comes to her Prayers, that's the most like to prove her critical Minute; for then the Devil will be there to assist me.

[_He opens the Closet, goes in, and shuts the door after him._

_Enter ~Berinthia~ with a Candle in her hand._

_Ber._ Well, sure I am the best-natur'd Woman in the World. I that love Cards so well (there is but one thing upon the Earth I love better) have pretended Letters to write, to give my Friends a _Tête-à-Tête_; however, I'm innocent, for Picquet is the Game I set 'em to: at her own peril be it, if she ventures to play with him at any other. But now what shall I do with myself? I don't know how in the World to pass my time; wou'd _Loveless_ were here to _badiner_ a little! Well, he's a charming Fellow, I don't wonder his Wife's so fond of him. What if I shou'd set down and think of him till I fall asleep, and dream of the Lord knows what? O, but then if I shou'd dream we were married, I shou'd be frighted out of my Wits. [_Seeing a Book._] What's this Book? I think I had best go read. _O Splenetique!_ 'tis a Sermon. Well, I'll go into my Closet, and read the _Plotting Sisters_. [_She opens the Closet, sees ~Loveless~, and shrieks out._] O Lord, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost!

_Enter ~Loveless~ running to her._

_Lov._ Peace, my Dear; it's no Ghost, take it in your Arms, you'll find 'tis worth a hundred of 'em.

_Ber._ Run in again; here's somebody coming.

_Enter Maid._

_Maid._ O Lord, Madam, what's the matter?

_Ber._ O Heav'ns! I'm almost frighted out of my Wits. I thought verily I had seen a Ghost, and 'twas nothing but the white Curtain, with a black Hood pinn'd up against it; you may be gone again, I am the fearfullest Fool.--

[_Exit Maid._

_Re-enter ~Loveless~._

_Lov._ Is the Coast clear?

_Ber._ The Coast clear! I suppose you are clear, you'd never play such a Trick as this else.

_Lov._ I am very well pleas'd with my Trick thus far, and shall be so till I have play'd it out, if it ben't your Fault: where's my Wife?

_Ber._ At Cards.

_Lov._ With whom?

_Ber._ With _Worthy_.

_Lov._ Then we are safe enough.

_Ber._ You are so! Some Husbands wou'd be of another mind, if he were at Cards with their Wives.

_Lov._ And they'd be in the right on't too. But I dare trust mine:----Besides, I know he's in love in another place, and he's not one of those who court half a dozen at a time.

_Ber._ Nay, the truth on't is, you'd pity him if you saw how uneasy he is at being engag'd with us; but 'twas my Malice. I fancy'd he was to meet his Mistress some where else, so did it to have the pleasure of seeing him fret.

_Lov._ What says _Amanda_ to my staying abroad so late?

_Ber._ Why she's as much out of Humour as he, I believe they wish one another at the Devil.

_Lov._ Then I'm afraid they'll quarrel at Play, and soon throw up the Cards: [_Offering in pull her into her Closet._] Therefore, my dear charming Angel, let us make good use of our time.

_Ber._ Heavens! what do you mean?

_Lov._ Pray what do you think I mean?

_Ber._ I don't know.

_Lov._ I'll shew you.

_Ber._ You may as well tell me.

_Lov._ No, that wou'd make you blush worse than t'other.

_Ber._ Why, do you intend to make me blush?

_Lov._ Faith, I can't tell that; but if I do, it shall be in the dark.

[_Pulling her._

_Ber._ O Heavens! I wou'd not be in the dark with you for all the World.

_Lov._ I'll try that.

[_Puts out the Candles._

_Ber._ O Lord! are you mad! What shall I do for Light?

_Lov._ You'll do as well without it.

_Ber._ Why, one can't find a Chair to sit down?

_Lov._ Come into the Closet, Madam, there's Moonshine upon the Couch.

_Ber._ Nay, never pull, for I will not go.

_Lov._ Then you must be carried.

[_Carrying her._

_Ber._ Help, help, I'm ravish'd, ruin'd, undone. O Lord, I shall never be able to bear it.

[_Very softly._

+SCENE+, _Sir ~Tunbelly~'s House_.

_Enter Miss ~Hoyden~, Nurse, ~Young Fashion~, and ~Bull~._

_Young Fash._ This quick dispatch of yours, Mr. _Bull_, I take so kindly, it shall give you a claim to my Favour as long as I live, I do assure you.

_Miss._ And to mine too, I promise you.

_Bull._ I most humbly thank your Honours; and I hope, since it has been my Lot to join you in the holy Bands of Wedlock, you will so well cultivate the Soil which I have crav'd a Blessing on, that your Children may swarm about you like Bees about a Honey-Comb.

_Miss._ I'cod with all my Heart, the more the merrier, I say; ha, Nurse.

_Enter ~Lory~, taking his Master hastily aside._

_Lo._ One Word with you, for Heaven's sake.

_Young Fash._ What the Devil's the matter?

_Lo._ Sir, your Fortune's ruin'd, and I don't think your Life's worth a quarter of an Hour's Purchase: Yonder's your Brother arriv'd with two Coaches and six Horses, twenty Footmen and Pages, a Coat worth fourscore Pound, and a Perriwig down to his Knees: So judge what will become of your Lady's Heart.

_Young Fash._ Death and Furies! 'tis impossible.

_Lo._ Fiends and Spectres! Sir, 'tis true.

_Young Fash._ Is he in the House yet?

_Lo._ No, they are capitulating with him at the Gate; the Porter tells him, he's come to run away with _Miss Hoyden_, and has cock'd the Blunderbuss at him; your Brother swears Gad Damme, they are a parcel of Clawns, and he had a good mind to break off the Match; but they have given the Word for Sir _Tunbelly_, so I doubt all will come out presently. Pray, Sir, resolve what you'll do this Moment, for I'gad they'll maul you.

_Young Fash._ Stay a little. [_To Miss._] My Dear, here's a troublesome Business my Man tells me of; but don't be frighten'd, we shall be too hard for the Rogue. Here's an impudent Fellow at the Gate (not knowing I was come hither _incognito_) has taken my Name upon him, in hopes to run away with you.

_Miss._ O the Brazen-fac'd Varlet, it's well we are married, or may be we might never have been so.

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] I'gad, like enough: Pr'ythee, dear Doctor, run to Sir _Tunbelly_, and stop him from going to the Gate, before I speak with him.

_Bull._ I fly, my good Lord----

[_Exit ~Bull~._

_Nurse._ An't please your Honour, my Lady and I had best lock ourselves up till the Danger be over.

_Young Fash._ Ay, by all means.

_Miss._ Not so fast, I won't be lock'd up any more. I'm marry'd.

_Young Fash._ Yes, pray my Dear do, till we have seiz'd this Rascal.

_Miss._ Nay, if you pray me, I'll do any thing.

[_Exeunt ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._

_Young Fash._ O! here's Sir _Tunbelly_ coming. [_To_ Lo.] Hark you, Sirrah, things are better than you imagine; the Wedding's over.

_Lo._ The Devil it is, Sir.

_Young Fash._ Not a Word, all's safe: But Sir _Tunbelly_ don't know it, nor must not yet; so I am resolv'd to brazen the Business out, and have the Pleasure of turning the Impostor upon his Lordship, which I believe may easily be done.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, ~Chap.~ and ~Servants~ arm'd._

_Young Fash._ Did you ever hear, Sir, of so impudent an Undertaking?

Sir _Tun._ Never, by the Mass, but we'll tickle him, I'll warrant him.

_Young Fash._ They tell me, Sir, he has a great many People with him disguis'd like Servants.

Sir _Tun._ Ay, ay, Rogues enow; but I'll soon raise the Posse upon 'em.

_Young Fash._ Sir, if you'll take my Advice, we'll go a shorter way to work; I find, whoever this Spark is, he knows nothing of my being privately here; so if you pretend to receive him civilly, he'll enter without Suspicion; and as soon as he is within the Gate, we'll whip up the Drawbridge upon his Back, let fly the Blunderbuss to disperse the Crew, and so commit him to Gaol.

Sir _Tun._ I'gad, your Lordship is an ingenious Person, and a very great General; but shall we kill any of 'em, or not?

_Young Fash._ No, no, fire over their Heads only to fright them; I'll warrant the Regiment scours when the Colonel's a Prisoner.

Sir _Tun._ Then come along, my Boys, and let your Courage be great----for your Danger is but small.

[_Exeunt._

+SCENE+, _The Gate._

_Enter Lord ~Foppington~ and ~Followers~._

_Lord Fop._ A Pax of these Bumkinly People, will they open the Gate, or do they desire I shou'd grow at their Moat-side like a Willow? [_To the Porter._] Hey, Fellow--Pr'ythee do me the Favour, in as few words as thou canst find to express thyself, to tell me whether thy Master will admit me or not, that I may turn about my Coach, and be gone.

_Por._ Here's my Master himself now at hand, he's of Age, he'll give you his Answer.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, and his Servants._

Sir _Tun._ My most noble Lord, I crave your pardon for making your Honour wait so long; but my Orders to my servants have been to admit no body without my Knowledge, for fear of some Attempts upon my Daughter, the Times being full of Plots and Roguery.

_Lord Fop._ Much Caution, I must confess, is a Sign of great Wisdom: But, stap my Vitals, I have got a Cold enough to destroy a Porter--He, hem--

Sir _Tun._ I am very sorry for't, indeed, my Lord; but if your Lordship please to walk in, we'll help you to some brown Sugar-Candy. My Lord, I'll shew you the way.

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I follow you with pleasure.

[_Exeunt._

[_As Lord ~Foppington~'s Servants go to follow him in, they clap the Door against ~La Varole~._

_Servants within._ Nay, hold you me there, Sir.

_La Var._ _Jernie, qu'est ce que veut dire ça?_

Sir _Tun._ [_Within._]----Fire, Porter.

_Porter fires._----Have among you, my Masters.

_La Var._ _Ah je suis mort_--

[_The servants all run off._

_Port._ Not one Soldier left, by the Mass.

+SCENE+ _changes into a Hall._

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, the ~Chaplain~ and ~Servants~, with Lord ~Foppington~ disarm'd._

Sir _Tun._ Come, bring him along, bring him along.

_Lord Fop._ What the Pax do you mean, Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before Dinner?

Sir _Tun._ Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.

_Lord Fop._ Strolers!

Sir _Tun._ Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself; what's your Name? where do you live? Do you pay Scot and Lot? Are you a _Williamite_, or a _Jacobite_? Come.

_Lord Fop._ And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent Questions?

Sir _Tun._ Because I'll make you answer 'em before I have done with you, you Rascal you.

_Lord Fop._ Before Gad, all the Answer I can make thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old Fellow; stap my Vitals--

Sir _Tun._ Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants, we know how to deal with you: Here, draw a Warrant for him immediately.

_Lord Fop._ A Warrant----what the Devil is't thou wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?

Sir _Tun._ I wou'd be at you, Sirrah, (if my Hands were not ty'd as a Magistrate) and with these two double Fists beat your Teeth down your Throat, you Dog you.

_Lord Fop._ And why would'st thou spoil my Face at that rate?

Sir _Tun._ For your Design to rob me of my Daughter, Villain.

_Lord Fop._ Rab thee of thy Daughter----Now I do begin to believe I am a-bed and a-sleep, and that all this is but a Dream--If it be, 'twill be an agreeable Surprize enough, to waken by and by; and instead of the impertinent Company of a nasty Country Justice, find my self perhaps in the Arms of a Woman of Quality--[_To Sir ~Tun.~_] Pr'ythee, old Father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one Question?

Sir _Tun._ I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.

_Lord Fop._ Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord _Foppington_ to come down and marry thy Daughter?

Sir _Tun._ Yes, marry did I, and my Lord _Foppington_ is come down, and shall marry my Daughter before she's a Day older.

_Lord Fop._ Now give me thy Hand, dear Dad, I thought we should understand one another at last.

Sir _Tun._ This Fellow's mad----here bind him Hand and Foot.

[_They bind him down._

_Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy Jest begins to grow dull.

Sir _Tun._ Bind him, I say, he's mad----Bread and Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his Senses again.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.

_Enter ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._ [_~Miss~ going up to him._]

_Miss._ Is this he that wou'd have run away with me? Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] This must be my Wife by her natural Inclination to her Husband.

_Miss._ Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with him? hang him?

Sir _Tun._ That at least, Child.

_Nurse._ Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] _Madame la Governante_, I presume, hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary Families that ever Man of Quality match'd into.

Sir _Tun._ What's become of my Lord, Daughter?

_Miss._ He's just coming, Sir.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] My Lord----What does he mean by that now?

_Enter ~Young Fashion~ and ~Lory~._

_Seeing him._] Stap my Vitals, _Tam_, now the Dream's out.

_Young Fash._ Is this the Fellow, Sir, that design'd to trick me of your Daughter?

Sir _Tun._ This is he, my Lord, how do you like him? Is not he a pretty Fellow to get a Fortune?

_Young Fash._ I find by his Dress, he thought your Daughter might be taken with a Beau.

_Miss._ O Gemini! Is this a Beau? let me see him again----ha! I find a Beau is no such ugly thing neither.

_Young Fash._ I'gad, she'll be in love with him presently; I'll e'en have him sent away to Gaol. [_To_ Lord Fop.] Sir, tho' your Undertaking shews you are a Person of no extraordinary Modesty, I suppose you han't Confidence enough to expect much Favour from me.

_Lord Fop._ Strike me dumb, _Tam_, thou art a very impudent Fellow.

_Nurse._ Look if the Varlet has not the Frontery to call his Lordship plain _Thomas_.

_Bull._ The business is, he wou'd feign himself mad, to avoid going to Gaol.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] That must be the Chaplain, by his unfolding of Mysteries.

Sir _Tun._ Come, is the Warrant writ?

_Cler._ Yes, Sir.

Sir _Tun._ Give me the Pen, I'll sign it----So now, Constable, away with him.

_Lord Fop._ Hold one Moment----Pray, Gentlemen; my Lord _Foppington_, shall I beg one Word with your Lordship?

_Nurse._ O ho, it's my Lord with him now; see how Afflictions will humble Folks.

_Miss._ Pray, my Lord, don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your Ear off.

_Lord Fop._. I am not altogether so hungry, as your Ladyship is pleased to imagine. [_To_ Young Fash.] Look you, _Tam_, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forget what's past, and accept of the five thousand Pounds I offer; thou may'st live in extreme Splendor with it; stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ It's a much easier matter to prevent a Disease than to cure it; a quarter of that Sum would have secur'd your Mistress; twice as much won't redeem her.

[_Leaving him._

Sir _Tun._ Well, what says he?

_Young Fash._ Only the Rascal offer'd me a Bribe to let him go.

Sir _Tun._ Ay, he shall go, with a Pox to him: Lead on, Constable.

_Lord Fop._. One word more, and I've done.

Sir _Tun._ Before Gad, thou art an impudent Fellow, to trouble the Court at this rate, after thou art condemned; but speak once for all.

_Lord Fop._ Why then once for all; I have at last luckily call'd to mind, that there is a Gentleman of this Country, who I believe cannot live far from this place, if he were here, would satisfy you, I am _Novelty_, Baron of _Foppington_, with five thousand Pounds a year, and that Fellow there a Rascal, not worth a Groat.

Sir _Tun._ Very well; now who is this honest Gentleman you are so well acquainted with. [_To_ Young Fash.] Come, Sir, we shall hamper him.

_Lord Fop._ 'Tis Sir _John Friendly_.

Sir _Tun._ So, he lives within half a Mile, and came down into the Country but last Night; this bold-fac'd Fellow thought he had been at _London_ still, and so quoted him; now we shall display him in his Colours: I'll send for Sir _John_ immediately. Here, Fellow, away presently; and desire my Neighbour he'll do me the favour to step over, upon an extraordinary Occasion; and in the mean while you had best secure this Sharper in the _Gate-House_.

_Const._ An't please your Worship, he may chance to give us the Slip thence: If I were worthy to advise, I think the Dog-kennel's a surer Place.