Chapter 69

Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.

_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?

_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he ‘rose before day--What Letter’s this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet. [Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.

_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_-- [Reads. Hum--a Woman’s Hand-- [Opens it.

_The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with you last Night. _Adieu_._

Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!

Enter _George_, fine.

--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_: And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.

_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?

_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table. [Gives it _George_, he reads it.

_Geo._ By all that’s good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?

_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.

_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you again?

_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.

_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she’s very honest, a Fortune, and of Quality--and were’t not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne’er saw, and now ‘twill be too late.

_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.

_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that’s good, I will resign her to thee.

_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--

_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to marry her; for her Honour’s mine.

_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.

_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no more--trust my Friendship--Go. [Exit _Welborn_.

Enter _Olivia_.

_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may yet be virtuous.

_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur’d, nor breaking Morn ungaz’d at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.

_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World talk shamefully.

_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.

_Geo._ No more--here’s _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with _Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done, I’ll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince stirring?

_Man._ He’s in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir. [Slides the Letter into _Olivia’s_ Hand as she passes out.

_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia? [Takes the Billet.

_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur’d Mistress, Sir.

_Geo._ ‘Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I’ll bring her Lover in the height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.

_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me. [Aside.

_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.

[Exeunt severally.