Chapter 68

Enter Sir _Rowland_ half dress’d, Lady _Blunder_ in an Undress, Lady _Youthly_ in her morning-dress, _Teresia_ and Mr. _Twang_.

Sir _Row._ Morrow, my Lady _Youthly_, and thank you for my Night’s Lodging--You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.

L. _Youth._ Truly, Sir _Rowland_, that I intend.

Sir _Row._ But where’s the Bride-groom, Madam?

Enter _Roger_.

How now, _Roger_, what, no news yet of _George_?

_Rog._ Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.

Sir _Row._ Rubbish--What--what, is _George_ become the Rubbish of the World then? [Weeps.

_Twang._ Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.

L. _Blun._ But are you sure, _Roger_, my Jewel, my Sir _Moggy_ escap’d?

_Rog._ The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.

L. _Youth._ How, Mr. _Twang_, the young Gentleman burnt--Oh-- [Falls in a Chair.

_Ter._ Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.--Good Sir _Rowland_, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.

Sir _Row._ Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so-- [Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady _Youthly_.

L. _Youth._ How! the House fell on him--Oh!

Sir _Row._ Ah, Madam, that’s all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like an Elephant--’twill bear a Castle, Madam.

L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy ‘tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a Back like an Elephant!

L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--

Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast. [Weeps.

_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man’s a Flower--

Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he wou’d have made! And what a swinging Sheriff-- [Cries.

_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?

Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, ‘Ifaks, Sweet-heart, we’ll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I shall ne’er beget another _George_. [Cries.

_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.

Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun’d, and good for nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.

_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!

Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir _Morgan_.

Sir _Row._ What’s here, my Rogue?

_Twang._ What’s the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this hostile manner?

Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.

L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan. [Embraces him.

Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--

L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come upon their Peril. [_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._

Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do’st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi & Armis_.

L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.

Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?

[Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out: Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_ enters.

_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature’s Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand against his Father?

Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully begotten Spouse.

_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign your Sword here at his reverend Feet.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah--

_Geo._ There, drag away this Brute. [Disarms him. To the Footman.

Sir _Mer._ Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. _Teresia_ along with you.

_Ter._ Sure this is my fine Fellow--and yet the very same that’s to be married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman. [_George_ speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.

Sir _Morg._ Burnt, say you, Mrs. _Teresia_, de see--my Lady _Mirtilla_ burnt! Nay, then, ‘tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again. [Goes out.

Sir _Row._ Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv’st my whole Estate, and thou shalt have it, Boy--This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her Grand-child. I’ll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly. [Goes out.

_Geo._ How, marry to day--Old Gentleman, you must be cozen’d; and, Faith, that goes against my Conscience--Ha, the Fair, the Young _Teresia_ there--When a man’s bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou’d be in my way now--Fair Creature, are you resolv’d to be my Mother-in-law?

_Ter._ As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir--And see--the News of your being come, has rais’d my Grandmother.

Enter _Lettice_, my Lady’s maid, and Lady _Youthly_.

_Geo._ A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.

_Ter._ I cou’d have spar’d her now too; but see she advances as swift as Time.

_Geo._ And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you--

L. _Youth._ Where--where’s this Young Welcome Gentleman--Oh, are you here, Sir-- [She sees him not, but runs upon him. _Lettice_, take _Teresia_, and get you to your Chamber, she has her Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we’ll make but one work of both.

_Ter._ Ay, ‘twill save Charges, Madam--

L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou’d be private.

_Geo._ Heark ye--leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I’ll follow you to your Chamber.

_Ter._ Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of my mind, for I find there’s no dallying.

L. _Youth._ Well, Sir, I have finish’d the Great Work.

_Geo._ I wish you had--_Teresia_, once you made me hope you did not hate me.

L. _Youth._ What says he, _Teresia_?

_Ter._ He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.

L. _Youth._ No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not felt before.

_Geo._ Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear--You have too much Wit, _Teresia_, to have been only pleas’d with the Embroider’d Coat, and Gawdy Plume, when still the man’s the same.

L. _Youth._ What says he, Embroider’d Coat and Plume?

_Ter._ He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne’er the worse, for being without those Fopperies.

L. _Youth._ Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband; those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind their Wives.

_Geo._ Are you so dull, _Teresia_, not to see, this Habit was put on, only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?

L. _Youth._ Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young Man--Well, well, I’ll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make you happy, Mr. _Twang_ shall join us, Sir.

_Geo._ A blessed hearing--You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space there is between this and the hast’ning hour; stand not on Virgin Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.

_Ter._ I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that was the first moment I saw you at the _Basset-Table_.

_Geo._ Ha! at the Basset-Table!

_Ter._ Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money--but no more--your Time and Place.

L. _Youth._ What are you prating to him there?

_Ter._ He doubts your Love, Madam, and I’m confirming it.

L. _Youth._ Alas, good Gentleman!--anon I’ll convince him--for in the Ev’ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.

_Geo._ Ah, Madam, I cou’d wish ‘twere not so long defer’d, for sure I love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here prepar’d an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion is sincere.

L. _Youth._ Good-lack-a-day, indeed you’re so obliging: But pray let us have the Dance. [Dance.

L. _Youth._ Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don’t droop, don’t droop; come, hold up your Head--you may be allow’d one kiss beforehand.

_Geo._ [Kisses her.] Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there! [Aside.

L. _Youth._ Come, come, _Teresia_, come with me.

_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] I’ll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint. Get ready instantly.

_Ter._ And if I fail, may I be eternally damn’d to the Embraces of old Age.

[Exeunt all but _George_.

_Geo._ _Mirtilla_, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father the kind Cheat forgive; _If I with dexterous charitable care_ _Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear._ [Exit.