SCENE III.

_A Gallery in_ LADY BOUNTIFUL'S _House_.

_Enter_ ARCHER _and_ SCRUB, _singing, and hugging one another_; SCRUB _with a Tankard in his Hand_--GIPSEY _listening at a Distance_.

Scrub. _Tal, all, dal_----Come, my dear boy, let us have that song once more.

_Arch._ No, no, we shall disturb the family----But will you be sure to keep the secret?

_Scrub._ Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gentleman.

_Arch._ 'Tis enough----You must know then, that my master is the Lord Viscount Aimwell: he fought a duel t'other day in London, wounded his man so dangerously, that he thinks fit to withdraw, till he hears whether the gentleman's wounds be mortal or not. He never was in this part of England before, so he chose to retire to this place, that's all.

_Gip._ And, that's enough for me. [_Exit._

_Scrub._ And where were you, when your master fought?

_Arch._ We never know of our master's quarrels.

_Scrub._ No! if our masters in the country here receive a challenge, the first thing they do, is to tell their wives; the wife tells the servants, the servants alarm the tenants, and in half an hour, you shall have the whole country up in arms.

_Arch._ To hinder two men from doing what they have no mind for.--But, if you should chance to talk now of this business----

_Scrub._ Talk! Ah, sir, had I not learned the knack of holding my tongue, I had never lived so long in a great family.

_Arch._ Ay, ay, to be sure, there are secrets in all families.

_Scrub._ Secrets, O lud!----But I'll say no more--Come, sit down, we'll make an end of our tankard:--Here----

_Arch._ With all my heart; who knows but you and I may come to be better acquainted, eh?----Here's your ladies' health--You have three, I think, and to be sure there must be secrets among them?

_Scrub._ Secrets! ah, friend, friend! I wish I had a friend.

_Arch._ Am not I your friend? Come, you and I will be sworn brothers.

_Scrub._ Shall we?

_Arch._ From this minute--Give me a kiss----and now, brother Scrub----

_Scrub._ And now, brother Martin, I will tell you a secret, that will make your hair stand on end.--You must know, that I am consumedly in love.

_Arch._ That's a terrible secret, that's the truth on't.

_Scrub._ That jade, Gipsey, that was with us just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of her.

_Arch._ Ha! ha! ha!--are you in love with her person or her virtue, brother Scrub?

_Scrub._ I should like virtue best, because it is more durable than beauty; for virtue holds good with some women long and many a day after they have lost it.

_Arch._ In the country, I grant ye, where no woman's virtue is lost, till a bastard be found.

_Scrub._ Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, I should have her all to myself; but I dare not put it upon that lay, for fear of being sent for a soldier.--Pray, brother, how do you gentlemen in London like that same pressing act?

_Arch._ Very ill, brother Scrub;----'Tis the worst that ever was made for us;--formerly I remembered the good days when we could dun our masters for our wages, and if they refused to pay us, we could have a warrant to carry them before a justice: but now if we talk of eating, they have a warrant for us and carry us before three justices.

_Scrub._ And to be sure we go, if we talk of eating; for the justices won't give their own servants a bad example. Now this is my misfortune--I dare not speak in the house, while that jade, Gipsey, dings about like a fury----once I had the better end of the staff.

_Arch._ And how comes the change now?

_Scrub._ Why, the mother of all this mischief is a priest.

_Arch._ A priest!

_Scrub._ Ay, a damn'd son of a whore of Babylon, that came over hither to say grace to the French officers, and eat up our provisions--There's not a day goes over his head without a dinner or supper in this house.

_Arch._ How came he so familiar in the family?

_Scrub._ Because he speaks English as if he had lived here all his life, and tells lies as if he had been a traveller from his cradle.

_Arch._ And this priest, I'm afraid, has converted the affection of your Gipsey.

_Scrub._ Converted! ay, and perverted, my dear friend--for, I'm afraid he has made her a whore, and a papist--but this is not all; there's the French count and Mrs. Sullen, they're in the confederacy, and for some private ends of their own too, to be sure.

_Arch._ A very hopeful family yours, brother Scrub; I suppose the maiden lady has her lover too?

_Scrub._ Not that I know--She's the best of them, that's the truth on't: but they take care to prevent my curiosity, by giving me so much business, that I'm a perfect slave--What d'ye think is my place in this family?

_Arch._ Butler, I suppose.

_Scrub._ Ah, lord help you--I'll tell you--Of a Monday I drive the coach, of a Tuesday I drive the plough, on Wednesday I follow the hounds, a Thursday I dun the tenants, on Friday I go to market, on Saturday I draw warrants, and a Sunday I draw beer.

_Arch._ Ha! ha! ha! if variety be a pleasure in life, you have enough on't, my dear brother----but what ladies are those?

_Scrub._ Ours, ours; that upon the right hand is Mrs. Sullen, and the other Mrs. Dorinda----don't mind them, sit still, man----

_Enter_ MRS. SULLEN _and_ DORINDA.

_Mrs. Sul._ I have heard my brother talk of Lord Aimwell, but they say that his brother is the finer gentleman.

_Dor._ That's impossible, sister.

_Mrs. Sul._ He's vastly rich, and very close, they say.

_Dor._ No matter for that; if I can creep into his heart, I'll open his breast, I warrant him: I have heard say, that people may be guessed at by the behaviour of their servants; I could wish we might talk to that fellow.

_Mrs. Sul._ So do I; for I think he's a very pretty fellow; come this way, I'll throw out a lure for him presently.

[_They walk towards the opposite Side of the Stage_; MRS. SULLEN _drops her Fan_, ARCHER _runs, takes it up, and gives it to her_.

_Arch._ Corn, wine, and oil, indeed----but, I think the wife has the greatest plenty of flesh and blood; she should be my choice--Ay, ay, say you so--madam--your ladyship's fan.

_Mrs. Sul._ O, sir, I thank you--What a handsome bow the fellow made!

_Dor._ Bow! why I have known several footmen come down from London, set up here for dancing masters, and carry off the best fortunes in the country.

_Arch._ [_Aside._] That project, for aught I know, had been better than ours----Brother Scrub, why don't you introduce me?

_Scrub._ Ladies, this is the strange gentleman's servant, that you saw at church to-day: I understood he came from London, and so I invited him to the cellar, that he might show me the newest flourish in whetting my knives.

_Dor._ And I hope you have made much of him.

_Arch._ Oh, yes, madam, but the strength of your ladyship's liquor is a little too potent for the constitution of your humble servant.

_Mrs. Sul._ What, then you don't usually drink ale?

_Arch._ No, madam, my constant drink is tea, or a little wine and water; 'tis prescribed me by the physician, for a remedy against the spleen--

_Scrub._ O la! O la!--A footman have the spleen!

_Mrs. Sul._ I thought that distemper had been only proper to people of quality.

_Arch._ Madam, like all other fashions, it wears out, and so descends to their servants; though in a great many of us, I believe it proceeds from some melancholy particles in the blood, occasioned by the stagnation of wages.

_Dor._ How affectedly the fellow talks----How long, pray, have you served your present master?

_Arch._ Not long; my life has been mostly spent in the service of the ladies.

_Mrs. Sul._ And pray, which service do you like best?

_Arch._ Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour of serving them is sufficient wages; there is a charm in their looks, that delivers a pleasure with their commands, and gives our duty the wings of inclination.

_Mrs. Sul._ That flight was above the pitch of a livery; and, sir, would not you be satisfied to serve a lady again?

_Arch._ As groom of the chambers, madam, but not as a footman.

_Mrs. Sul._ I suppose you served as footman before?

_Arch._ For that reason I would not serve in that post again; for my memory is too weak for the load of messages that the ladies lay upon their servants in London: my Lady Howd'ye, the last mistress I served, called me up one morning, and told me, Martin, go to my Lady Allnight, with my humble service; tell her, I was to wait on her ladyship yesterday, and left word with Mrs. Rebecca, that the preliminaries of the affair she knows of, are stopped till we know the concurrence of the person that I know of; for which there are circumstances wanting which we shall accommodate at the old place; but that in the mean time there is a person about her ladyship, that, from several hints and surmises, was accessary at a certain time to the disappointments that naturally attend things, that to her knowledge are of more importance----

_Mrs. Sul._ } Ha! ha! where are you going, sir? _Dor._ }

_Arch._ Why, I han't half done----The whole howd'ye was about half an hour long; so I happened to misplace two syllables, and, was turned off, and rendered incapable----

_Dor._ The pleasantest fellow, sister, I ever saw.--But, friend, if your master be married,----I presume you still serve a lady.

_Arch._ No, madam, I take care never to come into a married family; the commands of the master and mistress are always so contrary, that 'tis impossible to please both.

_Dor._ There's a main point gained----My lord is not married, I find. [_Aside._

_Mrs. Sul._ But I wonder, friend, that in so many good services, you had not a better provision made for you.

_Arch._ I don't know how, madam----I am very well as I am----

_Mrs. Sul._ Something for a pair of gloves. [_Offering him Money._

_Arch._ I humbly beg leave to be excused; my master, madam, pays me, nor dare I take money from any other hand, without injuring his honour, and disobeying his commands.

_Scrub._ Brother Martin, brother Martin.

_Arch._ What do you say, brother Scrub?

_Scrub._ Take the money, and give it to me. [_Exeunt_ ARCHER _and_ SCRUB.

_Dor._ This is surprising: did you ever see so pretty a well-bred fellow?

_Mrs. Sul._ The devil take him, for wearing that livery.

_Dor._ I fancy, sister, he may be some gentleman, a friend of my lord's, that his lordship has pitched upon for his courage, fidelity, and discretion, to bear him company in this dress, and who, ten to one, was his second.

_Mrs. Sul._ It is so, it must be so, and it shall be so--for I like him.

_Dor._ What! better than the count?

_Mrs. Sul._ The count happened to be the most agreeable man upon the place; and so I chose him to serve me in my design upon my husband----But I should like this fellow better in a design upon myself.

_Dor._ But now, sister, for an interview with this lord and this gentleman; how shall we bring that about?

_Mrs. Sul._ Patience! you country ladies give no quarter.--Lookye, Dorinda, if my Lord Aimwell loves you or deserves you, he'll find a way to see you, and there we must leave it----My business comes now upon the tapis,----Have you prepared your brother?

_Dor._ Yes, yes.

_Mrs. Sul._ And how did he relish it?

_Dor._ He said little, mumbled something to himself, and promised to be guided by me: but here he comes.--

_Enter_ SULLEN.

_Sul._ What singing was that I heard just now?

_Mrs. Sul._ The singing in your head, my dear, you complained of it all day.

_Sul._ You're impertinent.

_Mrs. Sul._ I was ever so, since I became one flesh with you.

_Sul._ One flesh! rather two carcases joined unnaturally together.

_Mrs. Sul._ Or rather a living soul coupled to a dead body.

_Dor._ So, this is fine encouragement for me!

_Sul._ Yes, my wife shows you what you must do!

_Mrs. Sul._ And my husband shows you what you must suffer.

_Sul._ 'Sdeath, why can't you be silent?

_Mrs. Sul._ 'Sdeath, why can't you talk?

_Sul._ Do you talk to any purpose?

_Mrs. Sul._ Do you think to any purpose?

_Sul._ Sister, harkye--[_Whispers._] I shan't be home till it be late. [_Exit._

_Mrs. Sul._ What did he whisper to ye?

_Dor._ That he would go round the back way, come into the closet, and listen, as I directed him.--But let me beg once more, dear sister, to drop this project; for, as I told you before, instead of awaking him to kindness, you may provoke him to rage; and then who knows how far his brutality may carry him?

_Mrs. Sul._ I'm provided to receive him, I warrant you; away! [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH.