Part 20

Lady _Town._ I see what you drive at all this while; you would lay an imputation on my fame, to cover your own avarice! I might take any pleasures I find, that were not expensive.

Lord _Town._ Have a care, Madam; don't let me think you only value your chastity, to make me reproachable for not indulging you in every thing else, that's vicious----I, Madam, have a reputation too, to guard, that's dear to me, as yours----The follies of an ungovern'd wife may make the wisest man uneasy; but 'tis his own fault, if ever they make him contemptible.

Lady _Town._ My Lord----you would make a woman mad!

Lord _Town._ You'd make a man a fool.

Lady _Town._ If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that won't be in my power.

Lord _Town._ Whatever may be in your inclination, Madam; I'll prevent you making me a Beggar at least.

Lady _Town._ A Beggar! _Crœsus_! I'm out of Patience! I won't come home 'till four to-morrow morning.

Lord _Town._ That may be, Madam; but I'll order the doors to be lock'd at twelve.

Lady _Town._ Then I won't come home 'till to-morrow night.

Lord _Town._ Then, Madam;----You shall never come home again.

[_Exit Lord ~Town~._

Lady _Town._ What does he mean! I never heard such a word from him in my life before! the Man always us'd to have manners in his worst humours! there's something, that I don't see, at the bottom of all this----but his head's always upon some impracticable scheme or other, so I won't trouble mine any longer about him. Mr. _Manly_, your Servant.

_Enter ~Manly~._

_Man._ I ask pardon for my intrusion, Madam; but I hope my business with my Lord will excuse it.

Lady _Town._ I believe you'll find him in the next room, Sir.

_Man._ Will you give me leave, Madam?

Lady _Town._ Sir----you have my leave, tho' you were a lady.

_Man._ [_Aside._] What a well bred age do we live in?

[_Exit ~Manly~._

_Enter Lady ~Grace~._

Lady _Town._ O! my dear Lady _Grace_! how could you leave me so unmercifully alone all this while?

Lady _Grace._ I thought my Lord had been with you.

Lady _Town._ Why yes----and therefore I wanted your relief; for he has been in such a fluster here----

Lady _Grace._ Bless me! for what?

Lady _Town._ Only our usual breakfast; we have each of us had our dish of Matrimonial Comfort, this morning! we have been charming company!

Lady _Grace._ I am mighty glad of it! sure it must be a vast happiness, when a Man and a Wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation!

Lady _Town._ O! the prettiest thing in the world!

Lady _Grace._ Now I should be afraid, that where two people are every day together so, they must often be in want of something to talk upon.

Lady _Town._ O my Dear, you are the most mistaken in the world! married people have things to talk of, child, that never enter into the imagination of others.----Why, here's my Lord and I now, we have not been married above two short years, you know, and we have already eight or ten things constantly in bank, that whenever we want company, we can take up any one of them for two hours together, and the subject never the flatter; nay, if we have occasion for it, it will be as fresh next day too, as it was the first hour it entertain'd us.

Lady _Grace._ Certainly that must be vastly pretty.

Lady _Town._ O! there's no life like it! why t'other day for example, when you din'd abroad; my Lord and I, after a pretty chearful _tête à tête_ meal, sat us down by the fire-side, in an easy indolent, pick-tooth way, for about a quarter of an hour, as if we had not thought of any other's being in the room----at last, stretching himself, and yawning----My Dear, says he,----aw----you came home very late, last night----'Twas but just turn'd of Two, says I----I was in bed--aw----by eleven, says he; so you are every night, says I----Well, says he, I am amazed you can sit up so late----How can you be amaz'd, says I, at a thing that happens so often?----upon which we enter'd into a conversation----and tho' this is a point has entertain'd us above fifty times already, we always find so many pretty new things to say upon it, that I believe in my soul, it will last as long as we live.

Lady _Grace._ But pray! in such sort of family dialogues (tho' extremely well for passing the time) don't there, now and then, enter some little witty sort of bitterness?

Lady _Town._ O yes! which does not do amiss at all! A smart repartee, with a zest of recrimination at the head of it, makes the prettiest sherbet; Ay, ay! if we did not mix a little of the acid with it, a matrimonial Society would be so luscious, that nothing but an old liquorish prude would be able to bear it.

Lady _Grace._ Well,----certainly you have the most elegant taste----

Lady _Town._ Tho' to tell you the truth, my Dear, I rather think we squeez'd a little too much lemon into it, this bout; for it grew so sour at last, that--I think----I almost told him, he was a fool----and he again----talk'd something oddly of----turning me out of doors.

Lady _Grace._ O! have a care of that!

Lady _Town._ Nay, if he should, I may thank my own wise father for that----

Lady _Grace._ How so?

Lady _Town._ Why----when my good Lord first open'd his honourable trenches before me, my unaccountable Papa, in whose hands I then was, gave me up at discretion.

Lady _Grace._ How do you mean?

Lady _Town._ He said, the wives of this age were come to that pass, that he would not desire even his own Daughter should be trusted with pin-money; so that my whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at the mercy of an husband's odd humours.

Lady _Grace._ Why, that, indeed, is enough to make a woman of spirit look about her!

Lady _Town._ Nay, but to be serious; my Dear; what would you really have a woman do in my case?

Lady _Grace._ Why----If I had a sober husband as you have, I would make myself the happiest wife in the world by being as sober as he.

Lady _Town._ O! you wicked thing! how can you teize one at this rate? when you know he is so very sober, that (except giving me money) there is not one thing in the world he can do to please me! And I at the same time, partly by nature, and partly, perhaps, by keeping the best company, do with my soul love almost every thing he hates! I dote upon assemblies! my heart bounds at a ball; and at an Opera----I expire! then I love play to distraction! Cards inchant me! and Dice--put me out of my little wits! Dear! dear Hazard! oh! what a flow of spirits it gives one! do you never play at hazard, child?

Lady _Grace._ Oh! never! I don't think it fits well upon women; there is something so masculine, so much the air of a rake in it! you see how it makes the men swear and curse! and when a woman is thrown into the same passion----why----

Lady _Town._ That's very true! one is a little put to it, sometimes, not to make use of the same words to express it.

Lady _Grace._ Well----and, upon ill luck, pray what words are you really forc'd to make use of?

Lady _Town._ Why upon a very hard case, indeed, when a sad wrong word is rising, just to one's tongue's end, I give a great gulp----and swallow it.

Lady _Grace._ Well----and is not that enough to make you forswear play, as long as you live?

Lady _Town._ O yes! I have forsworn it.

Lady _Grace._ Seriously?

Lady _Town._ Solemnly! a thousand times; but then one is constantly forsworn.

Lady _Grace._ And how can you answer that?

Lady _Town._ My dear, what we say, when we are losers, we look upon to be no more binding than a lover's oath, or a great man's promise. But I beg pardon, child; I should not lead you so far into the world; you are a prude, and design to live soberly.

Lady _Grace._ Why, I confess my nature, and my education do, in a good degree, incline me that way.

Lady _Town._ Well! how a woman of spirit, (for you don't want that, child) can dream of living soberly, is to me inconceivable! for you will marry I suppose.

Lady _Grace._ I can't tell but I may.

Lady _Town._ And won't you live in town?

Lady _Grace._ Half the year, I should like it very well.

Lady _Town._ My stars! and you would really live in London half the year to be sober in it!

Lady _Grace._ Why not?

Lady _Town._ Why can't you as well go, and be sober in the country?

Lady _Grace._ So I would----t'other half year.

Lady _Town._ And pray what comfortable scheme of life would you form now, for your summer and winter sober entertainments?

Lady _Grace._ A scheme, that I think might very well content us.

Lady _Town._ O! of all things let's hear it.

Lady _Grace._ Why, in summer, I cou'd pass my leisure hours in riding, in reading, walking by a canal, or sitting at the end of it under a great tree; in dressing, dining, chatting with an agreeable friend, perhaps hearing a little music, taking a dish of tea, or a game of cards soberly! managing my family, looking into its accounts, playing with my children (if I had any) or in a thousand other innocent amusements----soberly! and possibly, by these means, I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself----

Lady _Town._ Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing creature! for sure such primitive antediluvian notions of life, have not been in any head these thousand years----Under a great tree! O my soul!----But I beg we may have the sober town scheme too----for I am charmed with the country one!

Lady _Grace._ You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety there too.

Lady _Town._ Well, tho' I'm sure it will give me the vapours, I must hear it however.

Lady _Grace._ Why then, for fear of your fainting, madam, I will first so far come into the fashion, that I would never be dressed out of it----but still it should be soberly. For I can't think it any disgrace to a woman of my private fortune, not to wear her lace as fine as a wedding-suit of a first Dutchess. Tho' there is one extravagance I would venture to come up to.

Lady _Town._ Ay, now for it----

Lady _Grace._ I would every day be as clean as a bride.

Lady _Town._ Why the men say, that's a great step to be made one----Well now you are drest----pray let's see to what purpose.

Lady _Grace._ I would visit--that is, my real friends; but as little for form as possible.----I would go to court; sometimes to an assembly, nay, play at _quadrille_----soberly; I would see all the good plays; and, (because 'tis the fashion) now and then an opera----but I would not expire there, for fear I should never go again: and lastly, I can't say, but for curiosity, if I lik'd my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade! And this, I think, is as far at any woman can go----soberly.

Lady _Town._ Well! if it had not been for that last piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit water.

Lady _Grace._ Why, don't you think, with the farther aid of breakfasting, dining, taking the air, supping, sleeping, not to say a word of devotion, the four and twenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner?

Lady _Town._ Tolerable? deplorable! Why, child, all you propose, is but to endure life, now I want to enjoy it----

_Enter Mrs. ~Trusty~._

_Trus._ Madam, your Ladyship's chair is ready.

Lady _Town._ Have the Footmen their white flambeaux yet? for last night I was poison'd.

_Trus._ Yes, madam: there were some come in this morning.

[_Exit ~Trusty~._

Lady _Town._ My dear, you will excuse me; but you know my time is so precious----

Lady _Grace._ That I beg I may not hinder your least enjoyment of it.

Lady _Town._ You will call on me at Lady _Revel_'s?

Lady _Grace._ Certainly.

Lady _Town._ But I am so afraid it will break into your scheme, my dear!

Lady _Grace._ When it does, I will----soberly break from you.

Lady _Town._ Why then 'till we meet again, dear sister, I wish you all tolerable happiness.

[_Exit Lady ~Town~._

Lady _Grace._ There she goes--dash! into her stream of pleasures! poor woman! she is really a fine creature! and sometimes infinitely agreeable! nay, take her out of the madness of this town, rational in her notions, and easy to live with: but she is so borne down by this torrent of vanity in vogue, she thinks every hour of her life is lost that she does not lead at the head of it. What it will end in, I tremble to imagine----Ha! my brother, and _Manly_ with him! I guess what they have been talking of----I shall hear it in my turn, I suppose, but it won't become me to be inquisitive.

[_Exit Lady ~Grace~._

_Enter Lord ~Townly~ and ~Manly~._

Lord _Town._ I did not think my Lady _Wronghead_ had such a notable brain: tho' I can't say she was so very wise, in trusting this silly girl you call _Myrtilla_, with the secret.

_Man._ No, my Lord, you mistake me, had the girl been in the secret, perhaps I had never come at it myself.

Lord _Town._ Why I thought you said the girl writ this letter, to you, and that my Lady _Wronghead_ sent it inclos'd to my sister?

_Man._ If you please to give me leave, my Lord----the fact is thus.--This inclos'd letter to Lady _Grace_ was a real original one, written by this girl, to the Count we have been talking of: the Count drops it, and my Lady _Wronghead_ finds it: then only changing the cover, she seals it up as a letter of business, just written by herself, to me: and pretending to be in a hurry, gets this innocent girl to write the direction, for her.

Lord _Town._ Oh! then the girl did not know she was superscribing a billet-doux of her own to you?

_Man._ No, my Lord; for when I first question'd her about the direction, she own'd it immediately: but when I shew'd her that the letter to the Count was within it, and told her how it came into my hands, the poor creature was amazed and thought herself betray'd both by the Count and my Lady----in short, upon this discovery the girl and I grew so gracious, that she has let me into some transactions, in my Lady _Wronghead_'s family, which, with my having a careful eye over them, may prevent the ruin of it.

Lord _Town._ You are very generous to be so solicitous for a Lady that has given you so much uneasiness.

_Man._ But I will be most unmercifully reveng'd of her: for I will do her the greatest friendship in the world----against her will.

Lord _Town._ What an uncommon philosophy art thou master of? to make even thy malice a virtue?

_Man._ Yet, my Lord, I assure you, there is no one action of my life gives me more pleasure than your approbation of it.

Lord _Town._ Dear _Charles_! my heart's impatient, 'till thou art nearer to me: and as a proof that I have long wished thee so: while your daily conduct has chosen rather to deserve than ask my sister's favour; I have been as secretly industrious to make her sensible of your merit: and since on this occasion you have open'd your whole heart to me, 'tis now with equal pleasure, I assure you, we have both succeeded----she is as firmly yours----

_Man._ Impossible! you flatter me!

Lord _Town._ I am glad you think it flattery: but she herself shall prove it none: she dines with us alone: when the servants are withdrawn, I'll open a conversation, that shall excuse my leaving you together--_O! Charles!_ had I, like thee, been cautious in my choice, what melancholy hours had this heart avoided!

_Man._ No more of that, I beg, my Lord----

Lord _Town._ But 'twill, at least, be some relief to my anxiety (however barren of content the state has been to me) to see so near a friend and sister happy in it: your harmony of life will be an instance how much the choice of temper is preferable to beauty.

While your soft hours in mutual kindness move, You'll reach by virtue what I lost by love.

[_Exeunt._

+ACT+ IV. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _Mrs._ Motherly's _House_.

_Enter Mrs. ~Motherly~, meeting ~Myrtilla~._

_Moth._ So, niece! where is it possible you can have been these six hours?

_Myr._ O! Madam! I have such a terrible story to tell you!

_Moth._ A story! ods my life! what have you done with the Count's note of five hundred pounds I sent you about? is it safe? is it good? is it security?

_Myr._ Yes, yes, it is safe: but for its goodness----mercy on us! I have been in a fair way to be hang'd about it.

_Moth._ The dickens! has the rogue of a Count play'd us another trick then?

_Myr._ You shall hear, Madam; when I came to Mr. _Cash_, the Banker's, and shewed him his note for five hundred pounds, payable to the Count, or order, in two months--he looked earnestly upon it, and desired me to step into the inner room, while he examined his books----after I had staid about ten minutes, he came in to me----claps to the door, and charges me with a constable for forgery.

_Moth._ Ah poor soul! and how didst thou get off?

_Myr._ While I was ready to sink in this condition, I begg'd him to have a little patience, 'till I could send for Mr. _Manly_, whom he knew to be a gentleman of worth and honour, and who, I was sure, would convince him, whatever fraud might be in the note, that I was myself an innocent abus'd woman----and as good luck would have it, in less than half an hour Mr. _Manly_ came----so, without mincing the matter, I fairly told him upon what design the Count had lodg'd that note in your hands, and in short, laid open the whole scheme he had drawn us into, to make our fortune.

_Moth._ The devil you did!

_Myr._ Why how do you think it was possible I could any otherwise make Mr. _Manly_ my friend, to help me out of the scrape I was in? To conclude, he soon made Mr. _Cash_ easy, and sent away the Constable; nay farther promis'd me, if I would trust the note in his hands, he would take care it should be be fully paid before it was due, and at the same time would give me an ample revenge upon the Count; so that all you have to consider now, Madam, is, whether you think yourself safer in the Count's hands, or Mr. _Manly_'s.

_Moth._ Nay, nay, child; there is no choice in the matter! Mr. _Manly_ may be a friend indeed, if any thing in our power can make him so.

_Myr._ Well, madam, and now pray how stand matters at home here? What has the Count done with the ladies?

_Moth._ Why every thing he has a mind to do, by this time, I suppose. He is in as high favour with Miss, as he is with my Lady.

_Myr._ Pray, where are the ladies?

_Moth._ Rattling abroad in their own coach, and the well-bred Count along with them: they have been scouring all the shops in town over, buying fine things and new clothes from morning to night: they have made one voyage already, and have brought home such a cargo of bawbles and trumpery----mercy on the poor man that's to pay for them!

_Myr._ Did not the young Squire go with them!

_Moth._ No, no; Miss said, truly he would but disgrace their party: so they even left him asleep by the kitchen fire.

_Myr._ Has he not asked after me all this while? for I had a sort of an assignation with him.

_Moth._ O yes! he has been in a bitter taking about it. At last his disappointment grew so uneasy, that he fairly fell a crying; so to quiet him, I sent one of the maids and _John Moody_ abroad with him to shew him----the lions and the Monument. Ods me! there he is, just come home again----you may have business with him----so I'll even turn you together.

_Enter Squire ~Richard~._

Squ. _Rich._ Soah! soah! Mrs. _Myrtilla_, where han yow been aw this day, forsooth?

_Myr._ Nay, if you go to that, Squire, where have you been, pray?

Squ. _Rich._ Rich. Why, when I fun' at yow were no loikly to come whoam, I were ready to hong my sel----so _John Moody_, and I, and one o' your lasses have been----Lord knows where----a seeing o' the soights.

_Myr._ Well and pray what have you seen, Sir?

Squ. _Rich._ Flesh! I cawnt tell, not I----seen every thing I think. First there we went o' top o' the what d'ye call it? there, the great huge stone post, up the rawnd and rawnd stairs, that twine and twine about, just an as thof it were a cork screw.

_Myr._ O, the Monument! well, and was it not a fine sight from the top of it?

Squ. _Rich._ Sight, Miss! I know no'--I saw nowght but smoak and brick housen, and steeple tops----then there was such a mortal ting-tang of bells, and rumbling of carts and coaches, and then the folks under one look'd so small, and made such a hum, and a buz, it put me in mind of my mother's great glass bee-hive in our garden in the country.

_Myr._ I think, Master, you give a very good account of it.

Squ. _Rich._ Ay! but I did no like it: for my head--my head--began to turn----so I trundled me dawn stairs ugain like a round trencher.

_Myr._ Well! but this was not all you saw, I suppose?

Squ. _Rich._ Noa! noa! we went after that and saw the lions, and I lik'd them better by hawlf; they are pure grim devils; hoh, hoh! I touke a stick, and gave one of them such a poke o' the noase----I believe he would ha' snapt my head off, an he could ha' got me. Hoh! hoh! hoh!

_Myr._ Well, Master, when you and I go abroad, I'll shew you prettier sights than these----there's a masquerade to-morrow.

Squ. _Rich._ O laud! ay! they say that's a pure thing for _Merry Andrews_, and those sort of comical mummers----and the Count tells me, that there lads and lasses may jig their tails, and eat, and drink, without grudging, all night-lung.

_Myr._ What would you say now, if I should get you a ticket and go along with you?

Squ. _Rich._ Ah dear!

_Myr._ But have a care, Squire, the fine ladies there are terribly tempting; look well to your heart, or ads me! they'll whip it up in the trip of a minute.

Squ. _Rich._ Ay, but they can't thoa----soa let 'um look to themselves, an' ony of 'um falls in love with me--mayhap they had as good be quiet.

_Myr._ Why sure you would not refuse a fine lady, would you?

Squ. _Rich._ Ay, but I would tho' unless it were--one at I know of.

_Myr._ Oh! oh! then you have left your heart in the country, I find?

Squ. _Rich._ Noa, noa, my heart----eh----my heart e'nt awt o' this room.

_Myr._ I am glad you have it about you, however.

Squ. _Rich._ Nay, mahap not soa neather, somebody else may have it, 'at you little think of.

_Myr._ I can't imagine what you mean!

Squ. _Rich._ Noa! why doan't you know how many folks there is in this room, naw?

_Myr._ Very fine, Master, I see you have learnt the town gallantry already.

Squ. _Rich._ Why doan't you believe 'at I have a kindness for you then?

_Myr._ Fy! fy! Master, how you talk! beside you are too young to think of a wife. Squ. _Rich._ Ay but I caunt help thinking o' yow, for all that.

_Myr._ How! why sure, Sir, you don't pretend to think of me in a dishonourable way?

Squ. _Rich._ Nay, that's as you see good----I did no' think 'at you would ha' thowght of me for a husband, mayhap; unless I had means in my own hands; and feyther allows me but half a crown a week, as yet a while.

_Myr._ Oh! when I like any body, 'tis not want of money will make me refuse them.

Squ. _Rich._ Well, that's just my mind now; for 'an I like a girl, Miss, I would take her in her smuck.

_Myr._ Ay, Master, now you speak like a man of honour: this shews something of a true heart in you.

Squ. _Rich._ Ay, and a true heart you'll find me; try me when you will.

_Myr._ Hush! hush! here's your papa come home, and my aunt with him.

Squ. _Rich._ A devil rive 'em, what do they come naw for?

_Myr._ When you and I get to the masquerade, you shall see what I'll say to you.

Squ. _Rich._ Well, hands upon't then----

_Myr._ There----

Squ. _Rich._ One buss and a bargain.

[_Kisses her._

Ads wauntlikins! as soft and plump as a marrow-pudding.

[_Exeunt severally._

_Enter Sir ~Francis Wronghead~ and Mrs. ~Motherly~._

Sir _Fran._ What! my wife and daughter abroad say you?

_Moth._ O dear Sir, they have been mighty busy all the day long; they just came home to snap up a short dinner, and so went out again.

Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I shan't stay supper for 'em, I can tell 'em that: For ods-heart! I have had nothing in me, but a toast and a tankard, since morning.

_Moth._ I am afraid, Sir, these late Parliament hours won't agree with you.