Chapter 46

_Lady_ Galliard _is discover’d in an undress at her Table, Glass and Toilette_, Closet _attending: As soon as the Scene draws off she rises from the Table as disturbed and out of Humour_.

L. _Gal_. Come, leave your everlasting Chamber-maid’s Chat, your dull Road of Slandering by rote, and lay that Paint aside. Thou art fuller of false News, than an unlicens’d Mercury.

_Clos_. I have good Proof, Madam, of what I say.

L. _Gal_. Proof of a thing impossible!--Away.

_Clos_. Is it a thing so impossible, Madam, that a Man of Mr. _Wilding’s_ Parts and Person should get a City-Heiress? Such a bonne Mien, and such a pleasant Wit!

L. _Gal_. Hold thy fluent Tattle, thou hast Tongue Enough to talk an Oyster-Woman deaf: I say it cannot be. --What means the panting of my troubled Heart! Oh, my presaging Fears! shou’d what she says prove true, How wretched and how lost a thing am I! [_Aside_.

_Clos_. Your Honour may say your Pleasure; but I hope I have not liv’d to these Years to be impertinent--No, Madam, I am none of those that run up and down the Town a Story-hunting, and a Lye-catching, and--

L. _Gal_. Eternal Rattle, peace-- Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_ go away with _Wilding_! A Man of _Wilding’s_ extravagant Life Get a Fortune in the City! Thou mightst as well have told me, a Holder-forth were married to a Nun: There are not two such Contraries in Nature, ’.is flam, ‘tis foolery, ‘tis most impossible.

_Clos_. I beg your Ladyship’s Pardon, if my Discourse offend you; but all the World knows Mrs. Clacket to be a person--

L. _Gal_. Who is a most devout Baud, a precise Procurer; A Saint in the Spirit, and Whore in the Flesh; A Doer of the Devil’s Work in God’s Name. Is she your Informer? nay, then the Lye’s undoubted-- I say once more, adone with your idle Tittle-Tattle, --And to divert me, bid Betty sing the Song which _Wilding_ made To his last Mistress; we may judge by that, What little Haunts, and what low Game he follows. This is not like the Description of a rich Citizen’s Daughter and Heir, but some common Hackney of the Suburbs.

_Clos_. I have heard him often swear she was a Gentlewoman, and liv’d with her Friends.

L. _Gal_. Like enough, there are many of these Gentlewomen who live with their Friends, as rank Prostitutes, as errant Jilts, as those who make open profession of the Trade--almost as mercenary--But come, the Song.

[_Enter_ Betty.

SONG.

_In Phillis all vile Jilts are met, Foolish, uncertain, false, Coquette. Love is her constant welcome Guest, And still the newest pleases best. Quickly she likes, then leaves as soon; Her Life on Woman’s a Lampoon.

Yet for the Plague of human Race, This Devil has an Angel’s Face; Such Youth, such Sweetness in her Look, Who can be Man, and not be took? What former Love, what Wit, what Art, Can save a poor inclining Heart?

In vain a thousand Times an hour Reason rebels against her Power. In vain I rail, I curse her charms; One Look my feeble Rage disarms. There is Inchantment in her Eyes; Who sees ‘em, can no more be wise_.

_Enter_ Wilding, _who runs to embrace L_. Gal.

_Wild_. Twelve was the lucky Minute when we met: Most charming of your Sex, and wisest of all Widows, My Life, my Soul, my Heaven to come, and here! Now I have liv’d to purpose, since at last--Oh, killing Joy! Come, let me fold you, press you in my Arms, And kiss you Thanks for this dear happy Night.

L. _Gal_. You may spare your Thanks, Sir, for those that will deserve ’.m; I shall give you no occasion for ‘em.

_Wild_. Nay, no scruples now, dearest of Dears, no more, ’.is most unseasonable-- I bring a Heart full fraight with eager Hopes, Opprest with a vast Load of longing Love; Let me unlade me in that soft white Bosom, That Storehouse of rich Joys and lasting Pleasures, And lay me down as on a Bed of Lillies. [_She breaks from him_.

L. _Gal_. You’re wondrous full of Love and Rapture, Sir; but certainly you mistake the Person you address ‘em to.

_Wild_. Why, are you not my Lady _Galliard_, that very Lady _Galliard_, who, if one may take her Word for’t, loves _Wilding_? Am I not come hither by your own Appointment; and can I have any other Business here at this time of night, but Love, and Rapture, and--

L. _Gal_. Scandalous and vain! by my Appointment, and for so leud a purpose; guard me, ye good Angels. If after an Affront so gross as this, I ever suffer you to see me more, Then think me what your Carriage calls me, An impudent, an open Prostitute, Lost to all sense of Virtue, or of Honour.

_Wild_. What can this mean? [_Aside_. Oh, now I understand the Mystery. [_Looking on_ Closet. Her Woman’s here, that troublesome piece of Train. --I must remove her. Hark ye, Mrs. Closet, I had forgot to tell you, as I came up I heard a Kinsman of yours very earnest with the Servants below, and in great haste to speak with you.

_Clos_. A Kinsman! that’s very likely indeed, and at this time of night.

_Wild_. Yes, a very near Kinsman, he said he was your Father’s own Mother’s Uncle’s Sister’s Son; what d’ye call him?

_Clos_. Ay, what d’ye call him indeed? I shou’d be glad to hear his Name. Alas, Sir, I have no near Relation living that I know of, the more’s my Misfortune, poor helpless Orphan that I am. [_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Nay, but Mrs. Closet, pray take me right, This Country-man of yours, as I was saying--

L. _Gal_. Chang’d already from a Kinsman to a Countryman! a plain Contrivance to get my Woman out of the Room. Closet, as you value my Service, stir not from hence.

_Wild_. This Countryman of yours, I say, being left Executor by your Father’s last Will and Testament, is come--Dull Waiting-woman, I wou’d be alone with your Lady; know your Cue and retire.

_Clos_. How, Sir!

_Wild_. Learn, I say, to understand Reason when you hear it. Leave us awhile; Love is not a Game for three to play at. [_Gives her Mony_.

_Clos_. I must own to all the World, you have convinc’d me; I ask a thousand Pardons for my Dulness. Well, I’ll be gone, I’ll run; you’re a most powerful Person, the very Spirit of Persuasion--I’ll steal out--You have such a taking way with you--But I forgot my self. Well, your most obedient Servant; whenever you’ve occasion, Sir, be pleas’d to use me freely.

_Wild_. Nay, dear Impertinence, no more Complements, you see I’m busy now; prithee be gone, you see I am busy.

_Clos_. I’m all Obedience to you, Sir--Your most obedient--

L. _Gal_. Whither are you fisking and giggiting now?

_Clos_. Madam, I am going down, and will return immediately, immediately. [_Exit_ Clos.

_Wild_. So, she’s gone; Heaven and broad Gold be prais’d for the Deliverance. And now, dear Widow, let’s lose no more precious time; we have fool’d away too much already.

L. _Gal_. This to me!

_Wild_. To you, yes, to whom else should it be? Unless being sensible you have not Discretion enough to manage your own Affairs your self, you resolve like other Widows, with all you’re Worth to buy a Governour, commonly call’d a Husband. I took ye to be wiser; but if that be your Design I shall do my best to serve you--though to deal freely with you--

L. _Gal_. Trouble not your self, Sir, to make Excuses; I’m not so fond of the Offer to take you at your Word. Marry you! a Rakeshame, who have not Esteem enough for the Sex to believe your Mother honest--without Money or Credit, without Land either in presenter prospect; and half a dozen hungry Vices, like so many bauling Brats at your Back, perpetually craving, and more chargeable to keep than twice the number of Children. Besides, I think you are provided for; are you not married to Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_?

_Wild_. Married to her! Do I know her, you shou’d rather ask. What Fool has forg’d this unlikely Lye? but suppose ‘twere true, cou’d you be jealous of a Woman I marry? Do you take me for such an Ass, to suspect I shall love my own Wife? On the other side, I have a great Charge of Vices, as you well observe, and I must not be so barbarous to let ‘em starve. Every body in this Age takes care to provide for their Vices, though they send their Children a begging; I shou’d be worse than an Infidel to neglect them. No, I must marry some stiff aukward thing or other with an ugly Face, and a handsom Estate, that’s certain: but whoever is ordain’d to make my Fortune, ‘tis you only can make me happy-- Come, do it then.

L. _Gal_. I never will.

_Wild_. Unkindly said, you must.

L. _Gal_. Unreasonable Man! because you see I have unusual Regards for you, Pleasure to hear, and Trouble to deny you; A fatal yielding in my Nature toward you, Love bends my Soul that way-- A Weakness I ne’er felt for any other; And wou’d you be so base? and cou’d you have the Heart To take th’ advantage on’t to ruin me, To make me infamous, despis’d, loath’d, pointed at?

_Wild_. You reason false, According to the strictest Rules of Honour, Beauty should still be the Reward of Love, Not the vile Merchandize of Fortune, Or the cheap Drug of a Church-Ceremony. She’s only infamous, who to her Bed For Interest takes some nauseous Clown she hates: And though a Jointure or a Vow in publick Be her Price, that makes her but the dearer Whore.

L. _Gal_. I understand not these new Morals.

_Wild_. Have Patience I say, ‘tis clear: All the Desires of mutual Love are virtuous. Can Heav’n or Man be angry that you please Your self, and me, when it does wrong to none? Why rave you then on things that ne’er can be? Besides, are we not alone, and private? who can know it?

L. _Gal_. Heaven will know’t; and I--that, that’s enough: But when you are weary of me, first your Friend, Then his, then all the World.

_Wild_. Think not that time will ever come.

L. _Gal_. Oh, it must, it will.

_Wild_. Or if it should, could I be such a Villain-- Ah cruel! if you love me as you say, You wou’d not thus distrust me.

L. _Gal_. You do me wrong, I love you more than e’er my Tongue, Or all the Actions of my Life can tell you--so well-- Your very Faults, how gross soe’er to me, Have something pleasing in ‘em. To me you’re all That Man can praise, or Woman can desire; All Charm without, and all Desert within. But yet my Virtue is more lovely still; That is a Price too high to pay for you; The Love of Angels may be bought too dear, If we bestow on them what’s kept for Heaven.

_Wild_. Hell and the Devil! I’ll hear no more Of this religious Stuff, this godly Nonsense. Death, Madam, do you bring me into your Chamber to preach Virtue to me?

L. _Gal_. I bring you hither! how can you say it? I suffer’d you indeed to come, but not For the base end you fancy’d, but to take A last Leave of you. Let my Heart break with Love, I cannot be that wretched thing you’d have me; Believe I still shall have a Kindness for you, Always your Friend, your Mistress now no more.

_Wild_. Cozen’d, abus’d, she loves some other Man! Dull Blockhead, not to find it out before! [_Aside_. --Well, Madam, may I at last believe This is your fix’d and final Resolution? And does your Tongue now truly speak your Heart, That has so long bely’d it?

L. _Gal_. It does.

_Wild_. I’m glad on’t. Good Night; and when I visit you again, May you again thus fool me. [_Offers to go_.

L. _Gal_. Stay but a Moment.

_Wild_. For what? to praise your Night-dress, or make Court to your little Dog? No, no, Madam, send for Mr. Flamfull, and Mr. Flutterbuz, Mr. Lap-fool and Mr. Loveall; they’ll do it better, and are more at leisure.

L. _Gal_. Hear me a little: You know I both despise, and hate those civil Coxcombs, as much as I esteem and love you. But why will you be gone so soon? and why are ye so cruel to urge me thus to part either with your good Opinion or your Kindness? I wou’d fain keep ‘em both. [_In a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. Then keep your Word, Madam.

L. _Gal_. My Word! and have I promis’d then to be A Whore? A Whore! Oh, let me think of that! A Man’s Convenience, his leisure Hours, his Bed of Ease, To loll and tumble on at idle times; The Slave, the Hackney of his lawless Lust! A loath’d Extinguisher of filthy Flames, Made use of, and thrown by--Oh, infamous!

_Wild_. Come, come, you love me not, I see it plain; That makes your Scruples; that, that’s the Reason You start at Words, and turn away from Shadows. Already some pert Fop, some Ribbon Fool, Some dancing Coxcomb, has supplanted me In that unsteady treacherous Woman’s Heart of yours.

L. _Gal_. Believe it if you will. Yes, let me be false, unjust, ungrateful, any thing but a--Whore--

_Wild_. Oh, Sex on purpose form’d to plague Mankind! All that you are, and all you do’s a Lye. False are your Faces, false your floating Hearts; False are your Quarrels, false your Reconcilements: Enemies without Reason, and dear without Kindness; Your Friendship’s false, but much more false your Love; Your damn’d deceitful Love is all o’er false.

L. _Gal_. False rather are the Joys you are so fond of. Be wise, and cease, Sir, to pursue ‘em farther.

_Wild_. No, them I can never quit, but you most easily: A Woman changeable and false as you.

L. _Gal_. Said you most easily? Oh, inhuman! Your cruel Words have wak’d a dismal Thought; I feel ‘em cold and heavy at my Heart, And Weakness steals upon my Soul apace; I find I must be miserable-- I wou’d not be thought false. [_In a soft Tone, coming near him_.

_Wild_. Nor wou’d I think you so; give me not Cause.

L. _Gal_. What Heart can bear distrust from what it loves? Or who can always her own Wish deny? [_Aside_. My Reason’s weary of the unequal Strife; And Love and Nature will at last o’ercome. --Do you not then believe I love you? [_To him in a soft Tone_.

_Wild_. How can I, while you still remain unkind?

L. _Gal_. How shall I speak my guilty Thoughts? I have not Power to part with you; conceal my Shame, I doubt I cannot, I fear I wou’d not any more deny you.

_Wild_. Oh heavenly Sound! Oh charming Creature! Speak that word again, agen, agen! for ever let me hear it.

L. _Gal_. But did you not indeed? and will you never, never love Mrs. _Charlot_, never?

_Wild_. Never, never.

_L, Gal_. Turn your Face away, and give me leave To hide my rising Blushes: I cannot look on you.

[_As this last Speech is speaking, she sinks into his Arms by degrees_.

But you must undo me if you will-- Since I no other way my Truth can prove, --You shall see I love. Pity my Weakness, and admire my Love.

_Wild_. All Heaven is mine, I have it in my Arms, Nor can ill Fortune reach me any more. Fate, I defy thee, and dull World, adieu. In Love’s kind Fever let me ever lie, Drunk with Desire, and raving mad with Joy.

[_Exeunt into the Bed-chamber_, Wild. _leading her with his Arms about her_.