Chapter 44

_Enter L_. Galliard, Wilding, Closet. _To them_ Wilding, _delivers the Fan, and is retiring_.

L. _Gal_. Stay, I hear you’re wondrous free of your Tongue, when ‘tis let loose on me.

_Wild_. Who, I, Widow? I think of no such trifles.

L. _Gal_. Such Railers never think when they’re abusive; but something you have said, a Lye so infamous!

_Wild_. A Lye, and infamous of you! impossible! What was it that I call’d you, Wise or Honest?

L. _Gal_. How can you accuse me with the want of either?

_Wild_. Yes, of both: Had you a grain of Honesty, or intended ever to be thought so, wou’d you have the impudence to marry an old Coxcomb, a Fellow that will not so much as serve you for a Cloke, he is so visibly and undeniably impotent?

L. _Gal_. Your Uncle you mean.

_Wild_. I do, who has not known the Joy of Fornication this thirty Year, and now the Devil and you have put it into his Head to marry, forsooth. Oh, the Felicity of the Wedding-Night!

L. _Gal_. Which you, with all your railing Rhetorick, shall not have power to hinder.

_Wild_. Not if you can help it; for I perceive you are resolved to be a leud incorrigible Sinner, and marry’st this seditious doting Fool my Uncle, only to hang him out for the sign of the Cuckold, to give notice where Beauty is to be purchas’d, for fear otherwise we should mistake, and think thee honest.

L. _Gal_. So much for my want of Honesty; my Wit is the part of the Text you are to handle next.

_Wild_. Let the World judge of that by this one Action: This Marriage undisputably robs you both of your Reputation and Pleasure. Marry an old Fool, because he’s rich! when so many handsome proper younger Brothers wou’d be glad of you.

L. _Gal_. Of which hopeful number your self are one.

_Wild_. Who, I! Bear witness, Closet; take notice I’m upon my Marriage, Widow, and such a Scandal on my Reputation might ruin me; therefore have a care what you say.

L. _Gal_. Ha, ha, ha, Marriage! Yes, I hear you give it out, you are to be married to me: for which Defamation, if I be not reveng’d, hang me.

_Wild_. Yes, you are reveng’d; I had the fame of vanquishing where’er I laid my Seige, till I knew thee, hard-hearted thee; had the honest Reputation of lying with the Magistrates Wives, when their Reverend Husbands Were employ’d in the necessary Affairs of the Nation, seditiously petitioning: and then I was esteemed; but now they look on me as a monstrous thing, that makes honourable Love to you. Oh, hideous, a Husband Lover! so that now I may protest, and swear, and lye my Heart out, I find neither Credit nor Kindness; but when I beg for either, my Lady _Galliard’s_ thrown in my Dish: Then they laugh aloud, and cry, who wou’d think it of gay, of fine Mr. _Wilding_? Thus the City She-wits are let loose upon me, and all for you, sweet Widow: but I am resolv’d I will redeem my Reputation again, if never seeing you, nor writing to you more, will do it. And so farewel, faithless and scandalous honest Woman.

L. _Gal_. Stay, Tyrant.

_Wild_. I am engag’d.

L. _Gal_. You are not.

_Wild_. I am, and am resolv’d to lose no more time on a peevish Woman, who values her Honour above her Lover. [_He goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Go, this is the noblest way of losing thee.

_Clos_. Must I not call him back?

L. _Gal_. No, if any honest Lover come, admit him; I will forget this Devil. Fetch me some Jewels; the Company to night at Sir Timothy’s may divert me. [_She sits down before her Glass_.

_Enter_ Boy.

_Boy_. Madam, one, Sir Anthony Meriwill, wou’d speak with your Ladyship.

L. _Gal_. Admit him; sure ‘tis Sir _Charles_ his Uncle; if he come to treat a Match with me for his Nephew, he takes me in a critical Minute. Wou’d he but leave his whining, I might love him, if ‘twere but in Revenge.

_Enter Sir_ Anthony Meriwill _and Sir_ Charles.

_Sir. Anth_. So, I have tutor’d the young Rogue, I hope he’ll learn in time. Good Day to your Ladyship; _Charles_ [putting him forward] my Nephew here, Madam--Sirrah--notwithstanding your Ladyship’s Commands-- Look how he stands now, being a mad young Rascal!--Gad, he wou’d wait on your Ladyship--A Devil on him, see if he’ll budge now--For he’s a brisk Lover, Madam, when he once begins. A Pox on him, he’ll spoil all yet.

L. _Gal_. Please you sit, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I beg your Pardon for my Rudeness.

L. _Gal_. Still whining?-- [_Dressing her self carelesly_.

Sir _Anth_. D’ye hear that, Sirrah? oh, damn it, beg Pardon! the Rogue’s quite out of’s part.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I fear my Visit is unseasonable.

Sir _Anth_. Unseasonable! damn’d Rogue, unseasonable to a Widow?--Quite out.

L. _Gal_. There are indeed some Ladies that wou’d be angry at an untimely Visit, before they’ve put on their best Faces, but I am none of those that wou’d be fair in spite of Nature, Sir--Put on this Jewel here. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. That Beauty needs no Ornament, Heaven has been too bountiful.

Sir _Anth_. Heaven! Oh Lord, Heaven! a puritanical Rogue, he courts her like her Chaplain. [_Aside, vext_.

L. _Gal_. You are still so full of University Complements--

Sir _Anth_. D’ye hear that, Sirrah?--Ay, so he is, indeed, Madam--To her like a Man, ye Knave. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Char_. Ah, Madam, I am come--

Sir _Anth_. To shew your self a Coxcomb.

L. _Gal_. To tire me with Discourses of your Passion-- Fie, how this Curl fits! [Looking in the Glass.

Sir _Char_. No, you shall hear no more of that ungrateful Subject.

Sir _Anth_. Son of a Whore, hear no more of Love, damn’d Rogue! Madam, by George, he lyes; he does come to speak of Love, and make Love, and to do Love, and all for Love--Not come to speak of Love, with a Pox! Owns, Sir, behave your self like a Man; be impudent, be saucy, forward, bold, touzing, and leud, d’ye hear, or I’ll beat thee before her: why, what a Pox! [_Aside to him, he minds it not_.

Sir _Char_. Finding my Hopes quite lost in your unequal Favours to young _Wilding_, I’m quitting of the Town.

L. _Gal_. You will do well to do so--lay by that Necklace, I’ll wear Pearl to day. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Anth_. Confounded Blockhead!--by George, he lyes again, Madam. A Dog, I’ll disinherit him. [_Aside_.] He quit the Town, Madam! no, not whilst your Ladyship is in it, to my Knowledge. He’ll live in the Town, nay, in the Street where you live; nay, in the House; nay, in the very Bed, by George; I’ve heard him a thousand times swear it. Swear it now, Sirrah: look, look, how he stands now! Why, dear _Charles_, good Boy, swear a little, ruffle her, and swear, damn it, she shall have none but thee. [_Aside to him_.] Why, you little think, Madam, that this Nephew of mine is one of the maddest Fellows in all Devonshire.

L. _Gal_. Wou’d I cou’d see’t, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. See’t! look ye there, ye Rogue--Why, ‘tis all his Fault, Madam. He’s seldom sober; then he has a dozen Wenches in pay, that he may with the more Authority break their Windows. There’s never a Maid within forty Miles of Meriwill-Hall to work a Miracle on, but all are Mothers. He’s a hopeful Youth, I’ll say that for him.

Sir _Char_. How I have lov’d you, my Despairs shall witness: for I will die to purchase your Content. [_She rises_.

Sir _Anth_. Die, a damn’d Rogue! Ay, ay, I’ll disinherit him: A Dog, die, with a Pox! No, he’ll be hang’d first, Madam.

Sir _Char_. And sure you’ll pity me when I’m dead.

Sir _Anth_. A curse on him; pity, with a Pox. I’ll give him ne’er a Souse.

L. _Gal_. Give me that Essence-bottle. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. But for a Recompence of all my Sufferings--

L. _Gal_. Sprinkle my Handkerchief with Tuberose. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. I beg a Favour you’d afford a Stranger.

L. _Gal_. Sooner, perhaps. What Jewel’s that? [_To_ Clos.

_Clos_. One Sir _Charles Merwill_--

L. _Gal_. Sent, and you receiv’d without my Order! No wonder that he looks so scurvily. Give him the Trifle back to mend his Humour.

Sir _Anth_. I thank you, Madam, for that Reprimand. Look in that Glass, Sir, and admire that sneaking Coxcomb’s Countenance of yours: a pox on him, he’s past Grace, lost, gone: not a Souse, not a Groat; good b’ye to you, Sir. Madam, I beg your Pardon; the next time I come a wooing, it shall be for my self, Madam, and I have something that will justify it too; but as for this Fellow, if your Ladyship have e’er a small Page at leisure, I desire he may have Order to kick him down Stairs. A damn’d Rogue, to be civil now, when he shou’d have behav’d himself handsomely! Not an Acre, not a Shilling--buy Sir Softhead. [_Going out meets Wild, and returns_.] Hah, who have we here, hum, the fine mad Fellow? so, so, he’ll swinge him, I hope; I’ll stay to have the pleasure of seeing it done.

_Enter_ Wilding, _brushes by Sir_ Charles.

_Wild_. I was sure ‘twas Meriwill’s Coach at Door. [_Aside_.

Sir _Char_. Hah, _Wilding_!

Sir _Anth_. Ay, now, Sir, here’s one will waken ye, Sir. [_To Sir_ Char.

_Wild_. How now, Widow, you are always giving Audience to Lovers, I see.

Sir _Char_. You’re very free, Sir.

_Wild_. I am always so in the Widow’s Lodgings, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. A rare Fellow!

Sir _Char_. You will not do’t elsewhere?

_Wild_. Not with so much Authority.

Sir _Anth_. An admirable Fellow! I must be acquainted with him.

Sir _Char_. Is this the Respect you pay Women of her Quality?

_Wild_. The Widow knows I stand not much upon Ceremonies.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, he shall be my Heir. [_Aside still_.

L. _Gal_. Pardon him, Sir, this is his Cambridge Breeding.

Sir _Anth_. Ay, so ‘tis, so ‘tis, that two Years there quite spoil’d him.

L. _Gal_. Sir, if you’ve any further Business with me, speak it; if not, I’m going forth.

Sir _Char_. Madam, in short--

Sir _Anth_. In short to a Widow, in short! quite lost.

Sir _Char_. I find you treat me ill for my Respect; And when I court you next, I will forget how very much I love you.

Sir _Anth_. Sir, I shall be proud of your farther Acquaintance; for I like, love, and honour you. [_To_ Wild.

_Wild_. I’ll study to deserve it, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. Madam, your Servant. A damn’d sneaking Dog, to be civil and modest with a Pox! [_Ex. Sir_ Char, _and Sir_ Anth.

L. _Gal_. See if my Coach be ready. [_Ex_. CIos.

_Wild_. Whether are you janting now?

L. _Gal_. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle’s to Supper.

_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party; There they all meet and bargain without Scandal: Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse, Whig-land offers not such another Market.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Madam, here’s Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your Ladyship to Supper.

_Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, damn him, he was born to be my Plague: not-- Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees me here, I ruin all the Plots I’ve laid for him. Ha, he’s here.

_Enter Sir_ Tim.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here!

_Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too, Knowing my Uncle has abandon’d me.

Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what’s your Business here?

_Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her Power and Quality here in the City.

Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up with your rich Heiress?

_Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the Authority of my Lady _Galliard’s_ House to have secur’d her, till I got things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I have an Uncle.

L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a Reprobate thou hast been, I’ll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service.

_Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and his Association. [_Goes out_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below.

[_Exit_.