Man. PRAY, my lord, pray, my lord Plausible, give me leave! I have more of the mastiff than the spaniel in my nature; I own it; besides, I am too old now to learn to play tricks: I cannot fawn, and fetch and carry; neither will I ever practise that servile complaisance, which some people pique themselves on being masters of. L. Plau. Well, but seriously, my dear friend, this is being singular; will you declare war against general custom; refuse to subscribe to the common forms of good breeding? Man. Forms indeed, my lord; they are mere forms, and therefore shall not sway me. In short, I will not, as your subscribers to forms do, whisper my contempt or hatred; call a man a fool, or knave, by signs, or mouths over his shoulder, while I have him in my arins.-I will not do as you do. L. Plau. As I do!-Heaven defend me! upon my honour, I never attempted to abuse, or lessen any one in my life. Man. What! you were afraid! L. Plau. No; but seriously I hate to do a rude thing.-No, faith, I speak well of all mankind. Man. I thought so; but know, that is the worst sort of detraction, for it takes away the reputation of the few good men in the world, by making all alike.-Now I speak ill of most men, because they deserve it. L. Plau. Well, tell not me, my dear friend, what people deserve; I, like an author in a dedication, never speak well of a man for his sake, but my own: I will not disparage any one, to disparage myself: to speak ill of people behind their backs is not pretty, and to speak ill of them to their faces, would be the most monstrous thing in nature. Man. So that, if you was to say an unhandsome thing of any of your friends, I suppose you would chuse to do it behind their backs. L. Plau. Oh certainly, certainly; I would do it behind their backs out of pure good manners, Man. Very well, my lord: I have not leisure at present to examine into the propriety of your decorums: 1 confess, I am but an unpolished seafellow. But there is a favour, which, if your lordship would grant me L. Plan. A favour, dear sir! you make me the happiest man in the world; pray let me know how I have it in my power to serve you. Man. No otherwise, my lord, than by leaving me a little to myself; at present, I am really unfit for company Enter MANLY and FREEMAN. Free. But how the devil could you turn a man of his quality down stairs? You use a lord with very little ceremony it seems. Man. A lord! What, you are one of those, who esteem men only by the value and marks, which fortune hath set upon them, and never consider intrinsic worth! but counterfeit honours will not be current with me; I weigh the man, not his title: it is not the king's inscription can make the metal better or heavier. Your lord is a leaden shilling, which you bend every way, and debases the stamp he bears, instead of being raised by it L. Plau. Detain me! dear sir, I came on pur--And you, rascal, blockhead! did'nt I order you pose to pay my respects to you: I heard of your arrival in town last night, and could not be easy. But be free with me; if my company is in the least disagreeable or inconvenient L. Plau. Perhaps you have business. Man. If you have any, I would not detain your lordship. Man. I have told your lordship, already, I had rather be alone. L. Plau. I will lay hold then of some other opportunity of paying my most humble respects to you; and in the mean time Enter OAKUM. Man. Oakum! wait on his lordship down.. Man. Your servant, your servant. L. Plau. And eternally Man. And eternal ceremony !— to deny me to every body? Oak. Yes, your honour; and so I would, but I was just stepped into the back-parlour to play a game at all-fours with our landlady's daughter; and, while we were wrangling about the cards, the little boy let the gentleman up, unknown to us. Man. Well, be more careful for the future: stand at the stair-foot, and, at your peril, keep all that ask for me from coming up. Oak. Must no one come up to you, sir? Oak. A woman, an't like your honour? Oak. Indeed, your honour, it will be hard for me to deny a woman any thing, since we are so newly come on shore: but I'll let no old woman L. Plau. You shall use no ceremony, by my life! come up to you. L. Plau. Where are you going then? [Exeunt MANLY and LORD PLAUSIBLE. Oak. Well said, bully-tar! He came alongside of his match, when he grappled with you, I can tell him that. Zounds, he makes no more of one of these fresh-water sparks, than a three-decker would of a bomb-boat! But he's as brave a heart as ever stept between stem and stern; and so's a sign, by his sinking our fine vessel the other day, rather than let her fall into the hands of the rascally French, when he found three or four of their piccaroons at once were too many for us. Let me see-Tis just six weeks since we sailed out of Portsmouth harbour, and we had scarce been a month on our cruize, before we fell in with the enemy's squadron-Ah! we have made a base, broken, short voyage of it-Howsomever, he soon expects to be put into commission again, and I would go with him about the round world, if so be it was his destination; for, thof he's as crusty as any one sometimes, and will be obey'd, there's never a captain in the navy, that's a truer friend to a seaman-Avast though! He steers this way, in company of our merry lieutenant: 'tis foul weather, I doubt; I'll loof up, and get to windward of him. [Retires. Man. Would you be witty?-You become a jest as ill as you do a horse-Begone. [Exit OAKUM. Free. Nay, let the poor rogue have his forecastle jests: a sailor cannot help them in a storm, scarce when a ship's sinking-But what, will you see nobody? not your friends? Man. Friends! I have only one friend, and he, I hear, is not in town: nay, can have only one; for a true heart admits but of one friendship, as of one love. But in having found that friend, I have a thousand; for he has the courage of men in despair, yet the caution and diffidence of cowards; secrecy of the revengeful, and the constancy of martyrs; one fit to advise, to keep a secret, to fight, to die for his friend→ But words are but weak testimonies of his merit, and my esteem: I have trusted him, in my absence, with the care of the woman I love; which is a charge of so tender, so delicate a nature Free. Well, but all your good thoughts are not for him alone, I hope! Pray, what do you think of me for a friend? Man. Of you! Why you are a latitudinarian in friendship; that is, no friend; you will side with all mankind, but suffer for none; you are, indeed, like your lord Plausible, the pink of cour tesy, and therefore have no friendship. Free. No! that's very odd doctrine, indeed. Man. Look you, I am so much your friend, that I would not deceive you; and therefore must tell you, not only because my heart is taken up, but according to your rules of friendship, I cannot be your friend. Free. Why, pray? Man. Because you will say, he, that is a true friend to a man, is a friend to all his friends; but you must excuse me; I cannot wish well to a pack of coxcombs, sharpers, and scoundrels, whom I have seen you treat, I know not how often, as the dearest friends in the world. Free. What, I suppose you have observed me in the park, and at the coffee-house, doing the business of the several places! But could you really think I was a friend to all those I bowed to, shook hands with, and received in open arms? Man. You told them you were; nay, and swore it, too; I heard you. Free. Ay, but, when their backs were turned, did not I tell you the greater part of them were wretched, infamous fellows, whom I despised and hated? Man. Very true; but what right had I to believe you spoke your heart to me, who professed deceiving so many? Free. Nay, if you are such a precise adherer to matter of fact, it is in vain to argue with you; yet, surely, you would not have every man wear his opinion upon his sleeve, and find fault and quarrel with all, that he cannot in his conscience approve? Man. I would have every man speak truth, and neither act the part of a sycophant or a coward. Free. Yet, pray, sir, believe the friendship I offer you real, whatever I have professed to others-Try me at least. Man. Why, what would you do for me? However, spare yourself the trouble of professing; for, go as far as you will-here comes one will say as much at least Enter FIDELIA, in men's clothes. Don't you love me devilishly, too, my little volunteer? as well as he, or any man can? Fide. Better than any man can love you, my dear captain: as well as you do truth and honour, sir: as well Man. Nay, good young gentleman, enough for shame! Sure you forget that I am an unsucccessful man; that I have met with nothing abroad, but losses and disappointments; and am like to find nothing at home but frowns and vexation! Why do you follow me, then, flatter my vanity now; since, so far from being able to befriend you, I stand in need of a patron myself? Fide. I never followed reward or preferment, sir, but you alone; and, were you this instant to embark on the most hazardous expedition, I would cheerfully risk my life for the bare pleasure of serving with you. Man. Nay, hold there, sir; did not I see you, during the engagement, more afraid Fide. Yet, do me justice, sir: when we took to our long-boat, on your giving orders to sink the ship, did I shew any signs of dread or weariness; though the waves broke over us on every side, and the night was so dark ?— Man. Ay, ay, you were in haste to get to land: the apprehension of death made you insensible of danger, and so you were valiant out of fear. Fide. Well, sir, 'tis in vain for me to avow my sentiments, since you are determined not to believe me; but one day or other, perhaps— Free. Poor lad! you bring tears into his eyes: consider his youth and inexperience, and make some allowances. Man. What, does he cry?-No more, you milksop! Dry your eyes: I will never make you afraid again; for of all men, if I had occasion, you should not be my second; and when I return to sea Fide. You will not leave me behind? Man. Leave you behind! Ay, ay; you are a hopeful youth for the shore only; you have a smock-face, and an officious readiness about you: you may get yourself recommended to some great man by flattering his valet-de-chambre; or, who knows, some liquorish old woman, or wanton young one, may take a fancy to you, allow you a conditional annuity, and make your fortune that way. Fide. Sure, sir, you are industrious to find yourself reasons for an aversion to me: do you think, then, I am capable of being the despicable wretch, you describe? Man. Why, don't I know you to be a coward, sir; a wretch capable of any thing? Fide. Yet consider, sir; do not turn me off to beggary and ruin: when I came to you, I told you I was helpless and friendless. Man. Very well, sir-I will provide you with half a score friends, which will help you a little : in the mean time, be gone; go! you will fare better in any place than with me. Fide. I can fare well no where, lost as I am; I pursue happiness, but at every turn I meet complicated misery! [Aside.] [Exit. have three thousand pounds a-year, while she is content to be poor to make other people so; for she is as vexatious as her father was, the great Norfolk attorney Free. Ay, the devil take him! I am four hundred pounds a-year out of pocket by his knavish practices on an old aunt of mine; though, indeed, there was suspicion of a false deed of conveyance; I once had a design of suing the widow upon it, and something I will now think of seriously-but, hang her! she wont pretend to know ? me Man. Go to her, can't you? When she's in town, she lodges in one of the inns of court, where she breeds her son, and is herself his tutoress in law-French: but bid her come up; she is Olivia's relation, and may make me amends for her visit by giving me some account of her. Enter MRS BLACK ACRE and JERRY. Mrs Black. I never had so much trouble with a judge's door-keeper, as with yours: you should consider, captain Manly, this is term time, and folks have something else to do, besides waiting for admittance to people they have business with. Man. Well, well, a truce with your exclamations, and tell me something about your cousin. How does Olivia? Mrs Black. Jerry, give me the subpoena.-It was by mere chance I heard of your being in town, and you are my chief witness: you can't imagine how my cause Man. Damn your cause! when did you see Olivia? Mrs Black. I am no visitor, captain, but a woman of business: or, if ever I visit, 'tis only the Chancery-Lane ladies towards the law; and none of your lazy, good for nothing, fashionable gillflirts. Many a fine estate has been lost in families for want of a notable stirring woman, to rummage among the writings: but come, sir, we have no time to lose; and since you won't listen to me, I desire you may hear my son a little; let him put our case to you; for, if the trial comes on to-day, it will not be amiss to have your memory refreshed, and your judgment informed, lest you should give your evidence improperly.-Jerry! Jer. What's the matter with you now? Mrs Black. Come, child, put our case to captain Manly Nay, don't hold down your head and look like a fool; for you can do it very well, if you please. Jer. I wish I may be hanged, if I ever knew such a woman as you are in my life! I wonder you are not ashamed to make one an antic before strangers this way! Mrs Black. Jerry, Jerry! don't be perverse, but lay down the bags, and speak out, like a good child, when I bid you.-Lord, sir, it would do you good to hear him sometimes.-Why don't you begin? Jer. Psha! you are always in such a hurry, there's no such thing as doing nothing for you— What case must I put? Mrs Black. Our case, that comes on to-day in the Common Pleas : you know well enough, but you will be stubborn! Pray, captain, mark him. Jer. Hem! hem!-John a Stiles Man. You may talk, young lawyer, and put her case, if you think proper; but I shall no more mind you than I would your mother, if I was in your case, when she bid me do a thing to make a fool of myself. Jer. Look you there now; I told you so. Mrs Black. Never mind him, Jerry, he only says that to dash you: go on! Bless my soul, I could hear our Jerry put cases all day! Jer. John a Stiles-no-there are first, Fitz, Pere, and Ayle; no, no, Ayle, Pere, and Fitz→→ Ayle is seized in fee of Blackacre; John a Stiles disseizes the Ayle; Ayle makes claim, and the dissessors die-Then the Ayle-no the Fitz—————— Mrs Black. No, the Pere, sirrah! Jer. Oh, the Pere-ay, the Pere, sir, and the Fitz-No, the Ayle-No, the Pere and the FitzMan. Damn Pere, Ayle, and Fitz, sir! Mrs Black. No, you are out, child. Take notice of me, captain-There are Ayle, Pere, and Fitz: Ayle is seized in fee of Blackacre; and being so seized, John a Stiles disseizes the Ayle: Ayle makes claim, and the disseizor dies; then the Pere enters. The Pere, sirrah, the Pere!— And the Fitz enters upon the Pere; and the Ayle brings his writ of disseizen in the post, and the Pere brings his writ of disseizen in the Pere, and Man. 'Sdeath, Freeman, can you listen to this stuff? Mrs Black. Hold, sir! I must serve you [Gives a paper, which he throws away]; you are required, sir, by this, to give your testimonyMan. I'll be forsworn, to be revenged of you. [Exit. Mrs Black. Get you gone for an unmannerly fellow! But the service is good in law; so he must attend it at his peril.-Come, Jerry, I had almost forgot, we are to meet at the master's before eleven.- -Let us mind our business still, child. Jer. Well, and who hinders you? Free. Nay, madam, now I would beg you to hear me a little.-A little of my business. Mrs Black. I have business of my own, sir, calls me away. Free. My business would prove yours too, ma dam. Mrs Black, What, 'tis no Westminster-hall business! would you have my advice? Free. No, faith; it is a little Westminster abbey business: I would have your consent. Mrs Black. Fye, fye! to me such language, sir! and in the presence of my dear minor here. Jer. Ay, ay, mother, he would be taking livery and seizen of your jointure, by digging the turf; but I'll watch his waters, and so you may tell him. | Come along. [Exeunt JERRY and Widow. his desires behind: he took me with him; and, from that favourable circumstance, I suffered my self to be cheated with a thousand fond imaginations-Here he comes, and I must avoid him. Oh, fortune, fortune! I have been indiscreet; Fide. Dear Mr Freeman, speak to the captain yet surely I may be punished for my indiscretion for me. with too great severity. Enter FIDELIA. Free. Where is he? Fide. Within, sir. Free. Sighing and meditating, I suppose, on his darling mistress-He would never trust me to see her; is she handsome ? Fide. I am not a proper judge. SCENE II. [Exit. Enter MANLY, in his uniform, followed by not return all day. Man. 'Sdeath! it is past eleven o'clock, and I should have been abroad before nine! But this Fide. A gentlewoman, I believe; but of as comes of being pestered with a pack of impertimean fortune as beauty. You know, sir, the cap-nent visitors. Well, I am going out, and shall tain made early choice of a sea life, to which the particularity of his disposition afterwards attached him. But, some time since, he determined to quit the navy; and, having conceived a violent passion for this lady, was about to marry, and retire with her into the country. Free. And what prevented him? Fide. The offer of a ship to go against the enemies of his country: however, when he came home again, the treaty was to be concluded; and in the mean time, he left his intended wife ten or twelve thousand pounds, lest any thing should happen to him, whilst he was abroad. Free. He has left her in the care of some friend, has he not? Pray, do you know any thing of him? Fide. Nothing further than that his name is Varnish; and he is a man, in whom the captain puts the greatest confidence. Free. But if this Olivia be not handsome, what the devil can he see in her? Fide. He imagines her, I suppose, the only woman of truth and sincerity in the world. Free. No common beauties, I must confessFide. But methinks he should have had more than common proofs of them, before he trusted the bulk of his fortune in her hands. Free. Why, did he leave the sum you mention actually in her custody? Fide. So I am told. Free. What, I suppose you are going to pay your devoirs to some great man now ? Mun. And why should you suppose that? Free. Nay, faith, only because I think it is what you ought to do, and I know it is what those sort of people expect. Man. Well, but if they expect it from me, they shall be disappointed. I have done nothing to be afraid of, that I need solicit their interest, by way of a screen; and I leave those to dance attendance, who are more supple, and can play the parasite better-If they want, let them come to me-No, I am going at present, where, I dare swear, I shall be a welcome guest; and where I ought to have gone last night, indeed; but I came to town too late for her regular hours. Free. Oh! I guess where you mean; to the lady I have so often heard you talk of. Methinks I would give a good deal to see this phenomenon. She must needs be mistress of very extraordinary charms, to engage a person of your difficult disposition. impracticable to accompany me, she insisted upon Man. The charms of her person, though in them she excels most of her sex, are her meanest beauties: her tongue, no more than her face, ever knew artifice: she is all sincerity; and hates the creeping, canting, hypocritical tribe, as I do; for which I love her, and I am sure she hates not me; for, as an instance of her inviolable attachFree. Then he shewed love to her indeed-ment, when I was going to sea, and she found it But I'll go plead with him for you, and learn something more of this wonderful fair one. [Exit. Fide. Was ever woman in so strange, so cruel a situation? As long as I have worn this disguise, I cannot look at myself without astonishment; but when I consider, that I have run such lengths for a man, who knows not that I love him, and, if he did know it, would certainly reject my passion-I am startled indeed. At the time I forined the bold resolution of going with him to sea, Man. You doubt it, then! Well, I shall be at I was sensible his affections were engaged to ano- her house in an hour; come to me there; the vother: Why, then, did I embark in so rash an ad-lunteer will shew you the way; and we'll try how venture? because I loved; and love is apt to buoy long your infidelity will be able to resist convicitself up with false hopes; he left the object of tion. [Exeunt. Free. You thought she would keep! Man. Yes; for I tell you she is not like the rest of her sex, but can keep her promise, though she has sworn it. Free. Ha, ha, ha! |