Chapter 47

_Another Room in Lady_ Galliard’s _House_.

Enter Sir_ Charles Meriwill _and Sir_ Anthony, _Sir_ Charles _drunk_.

Sir _Anth_. A Dog, a Rogue, to leave her!

Sir _Char_. Why, look ye, Uncle, what wou’d you have a Man do? I brought her to her Coach--

Sir _Anth_. To her Coach! to her Coach! Did not I put her into your Hand, follow’d you out, wink’d, smil’d and nodded; cry’d ‘bye _Charles_, ‘bye Rogue; which was as much as to say, Go home with her, _Charles_, home to her Chamber, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say, Home to her Bed, _Charles_; nay, as much as to say--Hum, hum, a Rogue, a Dog, and yet to be modest too! That I shou’d bring thee up with no more Fear of God before thy Eyes!

Sir _Char_. Nay, dear Uncle, don’t break my Heart now! Why, I did proffer, and press, and swear, and ly’d, and--but a pox on her, she has the damn’dst wheedling way with her, as dear _Charles_, nay prithee, fie, ’.is late, to morrow, my Honour, which if you lov’d you wou’d preserve; and such obliging Reasons.

Sir _Anth_. Reasons! Reason! a Lover, and talk of Reason! You lye, Sirrah, you lye. Leave a Woman for Reason, when you were so finely drunk too, a Rascal!

Sir _Char_. Why look ye, d’ye see, Uncle, I durst not trust my self alone with her in this pickle, lest I shou’d ha’ fallen foul on her.

Sir _Anth_. Why, there’s it; ‘tis that you shou’d have done; I am mistaken if she be not one of those Ladies that love to be ravisht of a Kindness. Why, your willing Rape is all the Fashion, _Charles_.

Sir _Char_. But hark ye, Uncle.

Sir _Anth_. Why, how now, Jack-sauce, what, capitulate?

Sir _Char_. Why, do but hear me, Uncle; Lord, you’re so hasty! Why, look ye, I am as ready, d’ye see, as any Man on these Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. Are you so, Sir? and I’ll make you willing, or try Toledo with you, Sir--Why, what, I shall have you whining when you are sober again, traversing your Chamber with Arms across, railing on Love and Women, and at last defeated, turn whipping _Tom_, to revenge your self on the whole Sex.

Sir _Char_. My dear Uncle, come kiss me and be friends; I will be rul’d. [_Kisses him_.

Sir _Anth_.--A most admirable good-natur’d Boy this! [_Aside_. Well then, dear _Charles_, know, I have brought thee now hither to the Widow’s House, with a Resolution to have thee order matters so, as before thou quitst her, she shall be thy own, Boy.

Sir _Char_. Gad, Uncle, thou’rt a Cherubin! Introduce me, d’ye see, and if I do not so woo the Widow, and so do the Widow, that e’er morning she shall be content to take me for better for worse--Renounce me! Egad, I’ll make her know the Lord God from _Tom Bell_, before I have done with her. Nay, backt by my noble Uncle, I’ll venture on her, had she all Cupid’s Arrows, genus’s Beauty, and Messalina’s Fire, d’ye see.

Sir _Anth_. A sweet Boy, a very sweet Boy! Hum, thou art damnable handsome to Night, _Charles_--Ay, thou wilt do’t; I see a kind of resistless Leudness about thee, a most triumphant Impudence, loose and wanton. [_Stands looking on him_.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Heavens, Gentlemen, what makes you here at this time of Night?

Sir _Char_. Where’s your Lady?

_Clos_. Softly, dear Sir.

Sir _Char_. Why, is she asleep? Come, come, I’ll wake her. [_Offers to force in as to the Bed-chamber_.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, Sir; No, no, she’s a little busy, Sir.

Sir _Char_. I’ll have no Business done to Night, Sweetheart.

_Clos_. Hold, hold, I beseech you, Sir, her Mother’s with her; For Heaven’s sake, Sir, be gone.

Sir _Char_. I’ll not budge.

Sir _Anth_. No, not a Foot.

_Clos_. The City you know, Sir, is so censorious--

Sir _Char_. Damn the City.

Sir _Anth_. All the Whigs, _Charles_, all the Whigs.

Sir _Char_. In short, I am resolv’d, d’ye see, to go to the Widow’s Chamber.

Sir _Anth_. Harkye, Mrs. Closet I thought I had entirely engag’d you this Evening.

_Clos_. I am perfectly yours, Sir; but how it happens so, her Mother being there--Yet if you wou’d withdraw for half an hour, into my Chamber, till she were gone--

Sir _Anth_. This is the Reason, _Charles_. Here, here’s two Pieces to buy thee a Gorget. [_Gives her Money_.

Sir _Char_. And here’s my two, because thou art industrious. [_Gives her Money, and they go out with her_.

_Enter Lady_ Galliard _in rage, held by_ Wilding.

L. _Gal_. What have I done? Ah, whither shall I fly? [_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Why all these Tears? Ah, why this cruel Passion?

L. _Gal_. Undone, undone! Unhand me, false, forsworn; Be gone, and let me rage till I am dead. What shou’d I do with guilty Life about me?

_Wild_. Why, where’s the harm of what we two have done?

L. _Gal_. Ah, leave me-- Leave me alone to sigh to flying Winds, That the Infection may be borne aloft, And reach no human Ear.

_Wild_. Cease, lovely Charmer, cease to wound me more.

L. _Gal_. Shall I survive this Shame? No, if I do, Eternal Blushes dwell upon my Cheeks, To tell the World my Crime. --Mischief and Hell, what Devil did possess me?

_Wild_. It was no Devil, but a Deity; A little gay wing’d God, harmless and innocent, Young as Desire, wanton as Summer-breezes, Soft as thy Smiles, resistless as thy Eyes.

L. _Gal_. Ah, what malicious God, Sworn Enemy to feeble Womankind, Taught thee the Art of Conquest with thy Tongue? Thy false deluding Eyes were surely made Of Stars that rule our Sex’s Destiny: And all thy Charms were by Inchantment wrought, That first undo the heedless Gazers on, Then shew their natural Deformity.

_Wild_. Ah, my _Galliard_, am I grown ugly then? Has my increase of Passion lessen’d yours? [_In a soft Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Peace, Tempter, Peace, who artfully betrayest me, And then upbraidest the Wretchedness thou’st made. --Ah, Fool, eternal Fool! to know my Danger, Yet venture on so evident a Ruin.

_Wild_. Say,--what one Grace is faded? Is not thy Face as fair, thy Eyes as killing? By Heaven, much more! This charming change of Looks Raises my Flame, and makes me wish t’invoke The harmless God again. [Embraces her.

L. _Gal_. By Heaven, not all thy Art Shall draw me to the tempting Sin again.

_Wild_. Oh, I must, or die.

L. _Gal_. By all the Powers, by--

_Wild_. Oh, do not swear, lest Love shou’d take it ill That Honour shou’d pretend to give him Laws, And make an Oath more powerful than his Godhead. --Say that you will half a long Hour hence--

L. _Gal_. Hah!

_Wild_. Or say a tedious Hour.

L. _Gal_. Death, never--

_Wild_. Or if you--promise me then to morrow.

L. _Gal_. No, hear my Vows.

_Wild_. Hold, see me die; if you resolve ‘em fatal to my Love, by Heaven I’ll do’t. [_Lays his Hand on his Sword_.

L. _Gal_. Ah, what--

_Wild_. Revoke that fatal Never then.

L. _Gal_. I dare not.

_Wild_. Oh, say you will.

L. _Gal_. Alas, I dare not utter it.

_Wild_. Let’s in, and thou shalt whisper it into my Bosom; Or sighing, look it to me with thy Eyes.

L. _Gal_. Ah, _Wilding_-- [_Sighs_.

_Wild_. It toucht my Soul! Repeat that Sigh again.

L. _Gal_. Ah, I confess I am but feeble Woman. [_Leans on him_.

Sir _Char_. Good Mistress Keep-door, stand by: for I must enter. [_Sir_ Char. _without_.

L. _Gal_. Hah, young Meriwill’s Voice!

_Clos_. Pray, Sir _Charles_, let me go and give my Lady notice. [_She enters and goes to_ Wild. --For Heaven’s sake, Sir, withdraw, or my Lady’s Honour’s lost.

_Wild_. What will you have me do? [_To_ Galliard.

L. _Gal_. Be gone, or you will ruin me for ever. [_In disorder_.

_Wild_. Nay, then I will obey.

L. _Gal_. Here, down the back-stairs-- As you have Honour, go and cherish mine. [_Pulling him. He goes out_. --He’s gone, and now nethinks the shivering Fit of Honour is return’d.

_Enter Sir_ Charles, _rudely pushing_ Closet _aside with Sir_ Anthony.

_Sir. Char_. Deny’d an entrance! nay, then there is a Rival in the Case, or so; and I’m resolv’d to discover the Hellish Plot, d’ye see.

[_Just as he enters drunk at one Door_, Wild. _returns at the other_.

L. _Gal_. Ha, _Wilding_ return’d! Shield me, ye Shades of Night. [_Puts out the Candles, and goes to_ Wild.

_Wild_. The Back-Stairs Door is lockt.

L. _Gal_. Oh, I am lost! curse on this fatal Night! Art thou resolv’d on my undoing every way.

_Clos_. Nay, now we’re by dark, let me alone to guide you. Sir. [_To_ Wild.

Sir _Char_. What, what, all in darkness? Do you make Love like Cats, by Star-light? [_Reeling about_.

L. _Gal_. Ah, he knows he’s here!--Oh, what a pain is Guilt! [_Aside_.

_Wild_. I wou’d not be surpriz’d.

[_As_ Closet _takes him to lead him out, he takes out his Sword, and by dark pushes by Sir_ Charles, _and almost overthrows Sir_ Anth. _at which they both draw, whilst he goes out with_ Closet.

Sir _Char_. Hah, Gad, ‘twas a Spark!--What, vanisht! hah--

Sir _Anth_. Nay, nay, Sir, I am for ye.

Sir _Char_. Are you so, Sir? and I am for the Widow, Sir, and--

[_Just as they are passing at each other_, Closet _enters with a Candle_.

Hah, why, what have we here?--my nown Flesh and Blood? [_Embracing his Uncle_.

Sir _Anth_. Cry mercy, Sir! Pray, how fell we out?

Sir _Char_. Out, Sir! Prithee where’s my Rival? where’s the Spark, the-- Gad, I took thee for an errant Rival: Where is he? [_Searching about_.

L. _Gal_. Whom seek ye, Sir, a Man, and in my Lodgings? [_Angrily_.

_Clos_. A Man! Merciful, what will this scandalous lying World come to? Here’s no Man.

Sir _Char_. Away, I say, thou damn’d Domestick Intelligence, that comest out every half hour with some fresh Sham--No Man!--What, ‘twas an Appointment only, hum,--which I shall now make bold to unappoint, render null, void, and of none effect. And if I find him here, [_Searches about_.] I shall very civilly and accidentally, as it were, being in perfect friendship with him--pray, mark that--run him through the Lungs.

L. _Gal_. Oh, whata Coward’s Guilt! what mean you, Sir?

Sir _Char_. Mean? why I am obstinately bent to ravish thee, thou hypocritical Widow, make thee mine by force, that so I have no obligation to thee, and consequently use thee scurvily with a good Conscience.

Sir _Anth_. A most delicate Boy! I’ll warrant him as lend as the best of’em, God grant him Life and Health. [Aside.

L. _Gal_. ‘Tis late, and I entreat your absence, Sir: These are my Hours of Prayer, which this unseasonable Visit has disturb’d.

Sir _Char_. Prayer! No more of that, Sweetheart; for let me tell you, your Prayers are heard. A Widow of your Youth and Complexion can be praying for nothing so late, but a good Husband; and see, Heaven has sent him just in the crit--critical minute, to supply your Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. A Wag, an arch Wag; he’ll learn to make Lampoons presently. I’ll not give Sixpence from him, though to the poor of the Parish.

Sir _Char_. Come, Widow, let’s to Bed. [Pulls her, she is angry.

L. _Gal_. Hold, Sir, you drive the Jest too far; And I am in no humour now for Mirth.

Sir _Char_. Jest: Gad, ye lye, I was never in more earnest in all my Life.

Sir _Anth_. He’s in a heavenly humour, thanks to good Wine, good Counsel, and good Company. [_Getting nearer the Door still_.

L. _Gal_. What mean you, Sir? what can my Woman think to see me treated thus?

Sir _Char_. Well thought on! Nay, we’ll do things decently, d’ye see-- Therefore, thou sometimes necessary Utensil, withdraw. [_Gives her to Sir_ Anth.

Sir _Anth_. Ay, ay, let me alone to teach her her Duty. [_Pushes her out, and goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Stay, Closet, I command ye. --What have you seen in me shou’d move you to this rudeness? [_To Sir_ Char.

Sir _Char_. No frowning; for by this dear Night, ‘tis Charity, care of your Reputation, Widow; and therefore I am resolv’d no body shall lie with you but my self. You have dangerous Wasps buzzing about your Hive, Widow--mark that--[_She flings from him_.] Nay, no parting but upon terms, which, in short, d’ye see, are these: Down on your Knees, and swear me heartily, as Gad shall judge your Soul, d’ye see, to marry me to morrow.

L. _Gal_. To morrow! Oh, I have urgent business then.

Sir _Char_. So have I. Nay, Gad, an you be for the nearest way to the Wood, the sober discreet way of loving, I am sorry for ye, look ye. [_He begins to undress_.

L. _Gal_. Hold, Sir, what mean you?

Sir _Char_. Only to go to Bed, that’s all. [_Still undressing_.

L. _Gal_. Hold, hold, or I’ll call out.

Sir _Char_. Ay, do, call up a Jury of your Female Neighbours, they’ll be for me, d’ye see, bring in the Bill Ignoramus, though I am no very true blue Protestant neither; therefore dispatch, or--

L. _Gal_. Hold, are you mad? I cannot promise you to night.

Sir _Char_. Well, well, I’ll be content with Performance then to night, and trust you for your Promise till to morrow.

Sir _Anth_. [_peeping_.] Ah, Rogue! by George, he out-does my Expectations of him.

L. _Gal_. What Imposition’s this! I’ll call for help.

_Sir. Char_. You need not, you’ll do my business better alone. [_Pulls her_.

L. _Gal_. What shall I do? how shall I send him hence? [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. He shall ne’er drink small Beer more, that’s positive; I’ll burn all’s Books too, they have help’d to spoil him; and sick or well, sound or unsound, Drinking shall be his Diet, and Whoring his Study. [_Aside, peeping unseen_.

Sir _Char_. Come, come, no pausing; your Promise, or I’ll to Bed.

[_Offers to pull off his Breeches, having pulled off almost all the rest of his Clothes_.

L. _Gal_. What shall I do? here is no Witness near: And to be rid of him I’ll promise him; he’ll have forgot it in his sober Passion. [_Aside_. Hold, I do swear I will-- [_He fumbling to undo his Breeches_.

Sir _Char_. What?

L. _Gal_. Marry you.

Sir _Char_. When?

L. _Gal_. Nay, that’s too much--Hold, hold, I will to morrow--Now you are satisfy’d, you will withdraw?

_Enter Sir_ Anth. _and_ Closet.

Sir _Anth. Charles_, Joy, _Charles_, give you Joy, here’s two substantial Witnesses.

_Clos_. I deny it, Sir; I heard no such thing.

Sir _Anth_. What, what, Mrs. Closet, a Waiting-woman of Honour, and flinch from her Evidence! Gad, I’ll damn thy Soul if thou dar’st swear what thou say’st.

L. _Gal_. How, upon the Catch, Sir! am I betray’d? Base and unkind, is this your humble Love? Is all your whining come to this, false Man? By Heaven, I’ll be reveng’d. [_She goes out in a Rage with_ Closet.

Sir _Char_. Nay, Gad, you’re caught, struggle and flounder as you please, Sweetheart, you’ll but intangle more; let me alone to tickle your Gills, i’faith. [_Looking after her_.--Uncle, get ye home about your Business; I hope you’ll give me the good morrow, as becomes me--I say no more, a Word to the Wise--

Sir _Anth_. By George, thou’rt a brave Fellow; why, I did not think it had been in thee, Man. Well, adieu; I’ll give thee such a good morrow, _Charles_--the Devil’s in him!--’Bye, Charles--a plaguy Rogue!--’night, Boy--a divine Youth!

[_Going and returning, as not able to leave him. Exit_.

Sir _Char_. Gad, I’ll not leave her now, till she is mine; Then keep her so by constant Consummation. Let Man o’ God do his, I’ll do my Part, In spite of all her Fickleness and Art; There’s one sure way to fix a Widow’s Heart.

[_Exit_.