Chapter 42

_Enter_ Charlot, Foppington, _and_ Clacket.

_Charl_. Enough, I’ve heard enough of _Wilding’s_ Vices, to know I am undone. [_Weeps_. --_Galliard_ his Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her fam’d for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous.

_Fop_. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty Lady _Galliard_, even in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant.

_Charl_. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence!

Mrs. _Clack_. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr. _Foppington’s_ Information; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time.

_Charl_. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ah, that ever I shou’d live to see [_Weeps_] the sole Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, ran away with one of the leudest Heathens about Town!

_Charl_. How, your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, a Heathen; and with you too, Mrs. _Clacket_! that Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, who thought none so worthy as Mrs. _Clacket_, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he a Heathen!

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. ‘Slife, if you must marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason--Why, here’s Mr. _Foppington_, Madam; here’s a Shape, here’s a Face, a Back as strait as an Arrow, I’ll warrant.

_Charl_. How! buy him Breeches! Has _Wilding_ then no Fortune?

_Fop_. Yes, Faith, Madam, pretty well; so, so, as the Dice run; and now and then he lights upon a Squire, or so, and between fair and foul Play, he makes a shift to pick a pretty Livelihood up.

_Charl_. How! does his Uncle allow him no present Maintenance?

_Fop_. No, nor future Hopes neither: Therefore, Madam, I hope you will see the Difference between him and a Man of Parts, that adores you. [Smiling and bowing.

_Charl_. If I find all this true you tell me, I shall know how to value my self and those that love me.--This may be yet a Rascal.

_Enter Maid_.

_Maid_. Mistress, Mr. _Wilding’s_ below. [_Exit_.

_Fop_. Below! Oh, Heaven, Madam, do not expose me to his Fury, for being too zealous in your Service. [_In great Disorder_.

_Charl_. I will not let him know you told any thing, Sir.

_Fop_. Death! to be seen here, would expose my Life. [_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. Here, here, step out upon the Stair-case, and slip into my Chamber. [_Going out, returns in fright_.

_Fop_. Owns, he’s here; lock the Door fast; let him not enter.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, I have not the Key! hold it, hold it fast, sweet, sweet Mr. _Foppington_. Oh, should there be Murder done, what a Scandal wou’d that be to the House of a true Protestant! [_Knocks_.

_Charl_. Heavens! what will he say or think, to see me shut in with a Man?

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, I’ll say you’re sick, asleep, or out of Humour.

_Charl_. I’d give the World to see him. [_Knocks_.

_Wild_. [_Without_,] _Charlot, Charlot_! am I deny’d an entrance? By Heaven, I’ll break the Door. [_Knocks again_; Fop. _still holding it_.

_Fop_. Oh, I’m a dead Man, dear Clacket! [_Knocking still_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, hold, Sir, Mrs. _Charlot_ is very sick.

_Wild_. How, sick, and I kept from her!

Mrs. _Clack_. She begs you’ll come again an Hour hence.

_Wild_. Delay’d! by Heaven, I will have entrance.

_Fop_. Ruin’d! undone! for if he do not kill me, he may starve me.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, he will not break in upon us! Hold, Sir, hold a little; Mrs. _Charlot_ is just--just--shifting her self, Sir; you will not be so uncivil as to press in, I hope, at such a Time.

_Charl_. I have a fine time on’t, between ye, to have him think I am stripping my self before Mr. _Foppington_--Let go, or I’ll call out and tell him all.

[Wild, _breaks open the Door and rushes in_: Fop. _stands close up at the entrance till he is past him, then venturing to slip out, finds_ Wild, _has made fast the Door: so he is forc’d to return again and stand close up behind_ Wild. _with signs of Fear_.

_Wild_. How now, _Charlot_, what means this new Unkindness? what, not a Word?

_Charl_. There is so little Musick in my Voice, you do not care to hear it: you have been better entertain’d, I find, mightily employ’d, no doubt.

_Wild_. Yes, faith, and so I have, _Charlot_: damn’d Business, that Enemy to Love, has made me rude.

_Charl_. Or that other Enemy to Love, damn’d Wenching.

_Wild_. Wenching! how ill hast thou tim’d thy Jealousy! What Banker, that to morrow is to pay a mighty Sum, wou’d venture out his Stock to day in little Parcels, and lose his Credit by it?

_Charl_. You wou’d, perfidious as you are, though all your Fortune, all your future Health, depended on that Credit. [_Angry_.

_Wild_. So, hark ye, Mrs. Clacket, you have been prating I find in my Absence, giving me a handsom Character to _Charlot_--You hate any good thing shou’d go by your own Nose. [_Aside to_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. By my Nose, Mr. _Wilding_! I defy you: I’d have you to know, I scorn any good thing shou’d go by my Nose in an uncivil way.

_Wild_. I believe so.

Mrs. _Clack_. Have I been the Confident to all your Secrets this three years, in Sickness and in Health, for richer, for poorer; conceal’d the Nature of your wicked Diseases, under the honest Name of Surfeits; call’d your filthy Surgeons, Mr. Doctor, to keep up your Reputation; civilly receiv’d your t’other end of the Town young Relations at all Hours--

_Wild_. High!

Mrs. _Clack_. Been up with you, and down with you early and late, by Night and by Day; let you in at all Hours, drunk and sober, single and double; and civilly withdrawn, and modestly shut the Door after me?

_Wild_. What! The Storm’s up, and the Devil cannot lay it.

Mrs. _Clack_. And I am thus rewarded for my Pains! [_Weeps_.

_Wild_. So Tempests are allay’d by Showers of Rain.

Mrs. _Clack_. That I shou’d be charg’d with speaking ill of you, so honest, so civil a Gentleman--

_Charl_. No, I have better Witness of your Falshood.

_Fop_. Hah, ‘Sdeath, she’ll name me!

_Wild_. What mean you, my _Charlot_? Do you not think I love you?

_Charl_. Go ask my Lady _Galliard_, she keeps the best Account of all your Sighs and Vows, And robs me of my dearest softer Hours. [_Kindly to him_.

Mrs. _Clack_. You cannot hold from being kind to him. [_Aside_.

_Wild. _Galliard_! How came she by that Secret of my Life? [_Aside_.] Why, ay, ‘tis true, I am there sometimes about an Arbitration, about a Suit in Law, about my Uncle.

_Charl_. Ay, that Uncle too-- You swore to me you were your Uncle’s Heir; But you perhaps may chance to get him one, If the Lady prove not cruel.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, what Rascal has been prating to her! [_Aside_.

_Charl_. Whilst I am reserv’d for a dead Lift, if Fortune prove unkind, or wicked Uncles refractory: Yet I cou’d love you though you were a Slave, [_In a soft Tone to him_. And I were Queen of all the Universe.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, there you spoil’d all again--you forgot your self.

_Charl_. And all the World when he looks kindly on me. But I’ll take Courage and be very angry. [_Aside_. Nor do your Perjuries rest here; you’re equally as false to _Galliard_, as to me; false for a little Mistress of the Town, whom you’ve set up in spite to Quality. [_Angry_.

Mrs. _Clack_. So, that was home and handsom.

_Wild_. What damn’d Informer does she keep in pension?

_Charl_. And can you think my Fortune and my Youth Merits no better Treatment? [_Angry_. How cou’d you have the Heart to use me so? [_Soft to him_. I fall insensibly to Love and Fondness. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. Ah, my dear _Charlot_! you who know my Heart, can you believe me false?

_Charl_. In every Syllable, in every Look; Your Vows, your Sighs, and Eyes, all counterfeit. You said you lov’d me, where was then your Truth? You swore you were to be your Uncle’s Heir; Where was your Confidence of me the while. To think my Generosity so scanted, To love you for your Fortune? --How every Look betrays my yielding Heart! [_Aside_. No, since Men are grown so cunning in their Trade of Love, the necessary Vice I’ll practise too, And chaffer with Love-Merchants for my Heart. Make it appear you are your Uncle’s Heir, I’ll marry ye to morrow. Of all thy Cheats, that was the most unkind, Because you thought to conquer by that Lye. To night I’ll be resolv’d.

_Wild_. Hum! to night!

_Charl_. To night, or I will think you love me for my Fortune; Which if you find elsewhere to more advantage, I may unpitied die--and I shou’d die If you should prove untrue. [Tenderly to him.

Mrs. _Clack_. There you’ve dasht all again.

_Wild_. I’m resolv’d to keep my Credit with her-- Here’s my Hand; This Night, _Charlot_, I’ll let you see the Writings. --But how? a Pox on him that knows for _Thomas_. [_Aside_.

_Charl_. Hah! that Hand without the Ring! Nay, never study for a handsom Lye.

_Wild_. Ring? Oh, ay, I left it in my Dressing-room this Morning.

_Charl_. See how thou hast inur’d thy Tongue to falshood! Did you not send it to a certain Creature They call _Diana_, From off that Hand that plighted Faith to me?

_Wild_. By Heaven, ‘tis Witchcraft all; Unless this Villain _Foppington_ betray me. Those sort of Rascals would do any thing For ready Meat and Wine--I’ll kill the Fool--hah, here! [_Turns quick, and sees him behind him_.

_Fop_. Here, Lord! Lord! Where were thy Eyes, dear _Wilding_?

_Wild_. Where they have spy’d a Rascal. Where was this Property conceal’d?

_Fop_. Conceal’d! What dost thou mean, dear _Tom_? Why, I stood as plain as the Nose on thy Face, mun.

_Wild_. But ‘tis the ungrateful Quality of all your sort to make such base returns. How got this Rogue Admittance, and when in, The Impudence to tell his treacherous Lyes?

_Fop_. Admittance! why thou art stark mad: Did not I come in with you, that is, follow’d you?

_Wild_. Whither?

_Fop_. Why, into the House, up stairs, stood behind you when you swore you wou’d come in, and follow’d you in!

_Wild_. All this, and I not see!

_Fop_. Oh, Love’s blind; but this Lady saw me, Mrs. _Clacket_ saw me-- Admittance quotha!

_Wild_. Why did you not speak?

_Fop_. Speak! I was so amaz’d at what I heard, the villanous Scandals laid on you by some pick-thank Rogue or other, I had no Power.

_Wild_. Ay, thou know’st how I am wrong’d.

_Fop_. Oh, most damnably, Sir!

_Wild_. Abuse me to my Mistress too!

_Fop_. Oh, Villains! Dogs!

_Charl_. Do you think they have wrong’d him, Sir? For I’ll believe you.

_Fop_. Do I think, Madam? Ay, I think him a Son of a Whore that said it; and I’ll cut his Throat.

Mrs. _Clack_. Well, this Impudence is a heavenly Virtue.

_Wild_. You see now, Madam, how Innocence may suffer.

_Charl_. In spite of all thy villanous dissembling, I must believe, and love thee for my quiet.

_Wild_. That’s kind; and if before to morrow I do not shew you I deserve your Heart, kill me at once by quitting me--Farewel--I know where both my Uncle’s Will and other Writings lie, by which he made me Heir to his whole Estate. My Craft will be in catching; which if past, Her Love secures me the kind Wench at last. [_Aside_. [_Goes out with_ Fop.

Mrs. _Clack_. What if he should not chance to keep his Word now?

_Charl_. How, if he shou’d not! by all that’s good, if he shou’d not, I am resolv’d to marry him however. We two may make a pretty Shift with three thousand Pound a year; yet I wou’d fain be resolv’d how Affairs stand between the old Gentleman and him. I wou’d give the World to see that Widow too, that Lady _Galliard_.

Mrs. _Clack_. If you’re bent upon’t, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Madam; There’s every Day mighty Feasting here at his Uncle’s hard by, and you shall disguise your self as well as you can, and so go for a Niece of mine I have coming out of Scotland; there you will not fail of seeing my Lady _Galliard_, though, I doubt, not Mr. _Wilding_, who is of late discarded.

_Charl_. Enough; I am resolv’d upon this Design; let’s in and practise the northern Dialect.

[_Ex. both_.