Chapter 11

_Another Bedchamber in the same. Enter Hounslow and Bagshot, with swords drawn, haling in Lady Bountiful and Dorinda_.

_Houn_. Come, come, your jewels, mistress!

_Bag_. Your keys, your keys, old gentlewoman!

_Enter Aimwell and Cherry_.

_Aim_. Turn this way, villains! I durst engage an army in such a cause. [_He engages them both_.

_Dor_. O madam, had I but a sword to help the brave man!

_Lady Boun_. There's three or four hanging up in the hall; but they won't draw. I 'll go fetch one, however. [_Exit_.

_Enter Archer and Mrs. Sullen_.

_Arch_. Hold, hold, my lord! every man his bird, pray. [_They engage man to man; Hounslow and Bagshot are thrown and disarmed_.

_Cher_. [Aside.] What! the rogues taken! then they'll impeach my father: I must give him timely notice.

[_Runs out_.

_Arch_. Shall we kill the rogues?

_Aim_. No, no, we 'll bind them.

_Arch_. Ay, ay.--[_To Mrs. Sullen, who stands by him_.] Here, madam, lend me your garter.

_Mrs. Sul_. [_Aside_.] The devil's in this fellow! he fights, loves, and banters, all in a breath.--[_Aloud_.] Here's a cord that the rogues brought with 'em, I suppose. {20}

_Arch_. Right, right, the rogue's destiny, a rope to hang himself.--Come, my lord--this is but a scandalous sort of an office [_Binding the Highwaymen together_.] if our adventures should end in this sort of hangman-work; but I hope there is something in prospect, that--

_Enter Scrub_.

_Arch_. Well, Scrub, have you secured your Tartar?

_Scrub_. Yes, sir, I left the priest and him disputing about religion.

_Aim_. And pray carry these gentlemen to reap the benefit of the controversy. {31}

[_Delivers the prisoners to Scrubs who leads them out_.

_Mrs. Sul_. Pray, sister, how came my lord here?

_Dor_. And pray, how came the gentleman here?

_Mrs. Sul_. I 'll tell you the greatest piece of villainy--

[_They talk in dumb show_.

_Aim_. I fancy, Archer, you have been more successful in your adventures than the housebreakers.

_Arch_. No matter for my adventure, yours is the principal.--Press her this minute to marry you--now while she's hurried between the palpitation of her fear and the joy of her deliverance, now while the tide of her spirits is at high-flood--throw yourself at her feet, speak some romantic nonsense or other --address her, like Alexander in the height of his victory, confound her senses, bear down her reason, and away with her.--The priest is now in the cellar, and dare not refuse to do the work.

_Re-enter Lady Bountiful_.

_Aim_. But how shall I get off without being observed?

_Arch_. You a lover, and not find a way to get off!--Let me see--

_Aim_. You bleed, Archer. {50}

_Arch_. 'Sdeath, I 'm glad on 't; this wound will do the business. I 'll amuse the old lady and Mrs. Sullen about dressing my wound, while you carry off Dorinda.

_Lady Boun_. Gentlemen, could we understand how you would be gratified for the services--

_Arch_. Come, come, my lady, this is no time for compliments; I 'm wounded, madam.

_Lady Boun., Mrs. Sut_. How! wounded!

_Dor_. I hope, sir, you have received no hurt? {60}

_Aim_. None but what you may cure----

[_Makes love in dumb show_.

_Lady Boun_. Let me see your arm, sir--I must have some powder-sugar to stop the blood.--O me! an ugly gash; upon my word, sir, you must go into bed.

_Arch_. Ay, my lady, a bed would do very well.--[_To Mrs. Sullen_.] Madam, will you do me the favour to conduct me to a chamber.

_Lady Boun_. Do, do, daughter--while I get the lint and the probe and the plaster ready.

[_Runs out one way, Aimwell carries off Dorinda another_.

_Arch_. Come, madam, why don't you obey your mother's commands? {71}

_Mrs. Sul_. How can you, after what is passed, have the confidence to ask me?

_Arch_. And if you go to that, how can you, after what is passed, have the confidence to deny me? Was not this blood shed in your defence, and my life exposed for your protection? Look 'ee, madam, I 'm none of your romantic fools, that fight giants and monsters for nothing; my valour is downright Swiss; I'm a soldier of fortune, and must be paid.' {80}

_Mrs. Sul_. 'Tis ungenerous in you, sir, to upbraid me with your services!

_Arch_. 'Tis ungenerous in you, madam, not to reward 'em

_Mrs. Sul_. How! at the expense of my honour?

_Arch_. Honour! can honour consist with ingratitude? If you would deal like a woman of honour, do like a man of honour. D' ye think I would deny you in such a case?

_Enter a Servant_.

_Serv_. Madam, my lady ordered me to tell you, that your brother is below at the gate. [_Exit_.

_Mrs. Sul_. My brother! Heavens be praised!--Sir, he shall thank you for your services; he has it in his power. {93}

_Arch_. Who is your brother, madam?

_Mrs. Sul_. Sir Charles Freeman.--You'll excuse me, sir; I must go and receive him. [_Exit_.

_Arch_. Sir Charles Freeman! 'sdeath and hell! my old acquaintance. Now unless Aimwell has made good use of his time, all our fair machine goes souse into the sea like the Eddystone. [_Exit_.