what you would nave me do?-What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement? Scand. The world behaves itself, as it uses to do on such occasions. Some pity you, and condemn your father: others excuse him, and blame you. Only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well since love and pleasurable expence have been your greatest faults. JEREMY returns. Val. How now? Jer. Nothing new, sir. I have dispatched some hali a dozen duns with as much dexterity as an hungry judge does causes at dinner time. Vul. What answer have you given them? Scand. Patience, I suppose-the old receipt! Jer No, faith, sir: I have put them off so long with patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced to tell them in plain downright English Val. What? Jer. That they should be paid. Val. When? Jer. To-morrow Val And how the devil do you mean to keep your word? Jer. Keep it? Not at all: it has been so very much stretched, that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at the matter!-[knocking.Again! Sir, if you don't like my negociation, will you be pleased to answer these yourself? Val. See who they are. [Erit JEREMY.] By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great. Secretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an ariny, lead just such a life as I do: have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts. Scant. And you, like a truly great man, having engaged their attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more perplexed to and evasions, than you would be to invent the honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors. Vai. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your enemies. This liberty of your tongue will one day bring confinement on your body, my friend. | Scand. My blessing to the boy, with this token [gives money.] of my love. Val. Bid Trapland come in. If I can give that Cerberus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day. [JEREMY goes out, and brings in TRAPLAND. O Mr Trapland! my old friend! welcome. Jeremy, a chair, quickly: a bottle of sack, and a toast-fly-a chair first. Trap. A good morning to you, Mr Valentine; and to you, Mr Scandal. Scand. The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it. Val. Come, sit you down; you know his way. Trap. [sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of fifteen hundred pounds, of pretty long standing Val. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah! the sack! Trap. And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment. Val. Faith, and troth, I am heartily glad to see you-my service to you! fill, fill, to honest Mr Trapland-fuller. Trap. Hold! sweetheart-this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr Scandal!— [drinks.]- I have forborn as long Val. T'other glass, and then we'll talk-Fill, Jeremy. say Trap. No more, in truth-I have forborn, I Val. Sirrah! fill! when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter?-Come, a good husband to her. [drinks. Trap. Thank you-I have been out of this moneyVal. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink. Trap. And, in short, I can be put off no long er. Val. I was much obliged to you for your supply: it did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland's health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress, though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass. Scand. What? I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster, that was not an honest fellow. Trap. Fie, Mr Scandal, you never knew!— Scand. What don't I know?I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry-Eight hundred pounds a-year jointure, and twenty thousand pounds in money. Ahah! old Trap. Val. Say you so, i'faith? Come, we'll remember the widow: I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow. Trap. No more, indeed. Val. But I have got a reprieve. Scand. I am surprised; what, does your father relent? Val. What! the widow's health? Give it him -off with it. [They drink.]—A lovely girl, i' faith! black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby lips! Better sealing there, than a bond for a million, ha! Trap. No, no, there's no such thing; we'd bet-ditions in the world. You have heard of a ter mind our business-You're a wag! Val. No; he has sent me the hardest con booby brother of mine, that was sent to sea three years ago? This brother, my father hears, is landed; whereupon he very affectionately sends me word, 'If I will make a deed of conveyance of my right to his estate after his death to my younger brother, he will im Val. No, faith, we'll mind the widow's business: fill again. Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, would stir an anchorite; and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet, as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats-ha! Mr Trap-mediately furnish me with four thousand land! Trap. Verily, give me a glass-you're a wagand here's to the widow. [Drinks. Scand. He begins to chuckle-ply him close, or he'll relapse into a dun. Enter Officer. Offi. By your leave, gentlemen.—Mr Trapland, if we must do our office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pallmail and Covent-garden; and if we don't make haste, the chairmen will be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses; and then our labour's lost. Trap. Odso, that's true. Mr Valentine, I love mirth; but business must be done; are you ready to Jer. Sir, your father's steward says, he comes to make proposals concerning your debts. Val. Bid him come in: Mr. Trapland, send away your officer; you shall have an answer presently. Trap. Mr Snap, stay within call. [Exit Officer. Enter Steward, who whispers VALENTINE. Scand. Here's a dog now, a traitor in his wine! Sirrah, refund the sack: Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I'll rip up his stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience. Trap. Mr Scandal, you are uncivil. I did not value your sack; but you cannot expect it again, when I have drunk it. Scand. And how do you expect to have your money again, when a gentleman has spent it? Val. You need say no more. I understand the conditions; they are very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to them. Take Mr Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing.-Mr Trapland, you know this man; he shall satisfy you. Trap. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing; but my necessity Val. No apology, good Mr Scrivener; you shall be paid. Trap. I hope you forgive me; my business requires [Exeunt TRAPLAND, Steward and JEREMY. Scand. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution. ་ pounds to pay my debts, and make my 'fortune.' This was once proposed before, and I refused it; but the present impatience of my creditors for their money, and my own impatience of confinement, and absence from Angelica, force me to consent. Scand. A very desperate demonstration of your love to Angelica! and I think she has never given you any assurance of hers. Val. You know her temper; she never gave me any great reason either for hope or despair. Scand. Women of her airy temper, as they seldom think before they act, so they rarely give us any light to guess at what they mean: but you have little reason to believe that a woman of this age, who has had an indifference for you in your prosperity, will fall in love with your ill fortune. Besides, Angelica has a great fortune of her own; and great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or a fool. Enter JEREMY. Jer. More misfortunes, sir. Jer. No, sir; but Mr Tattle is come to wait upon you. Val. Well, I cannot help it- -you must bring him up; he knows I don't go abroad. [Exit JEREMY. Scand. Pox on him! I'll be gone. Val. No, prithee stay: Tattle and you should never be asunder; you are light and shadow, and shew one another. He is perfectly thy reverse, both in humour and understanding; and, as you set up for defamation, he is a mender of reputations. Scand. A mender of reputations! ay, just as he is a keeper of secrets, another virtue that he sets up for in the same manner. For the rogue will speak aloud in the posture of a whisper; and deny a woman's name, while he gives you the marks of her person. He will forswear receiving a letter from her, and at the same time shew you her hand in the superscription: and yet, perhaps, he has counterfeited her hand too, and sworn to a truth; but he hopes not to be believed; and refuses the reputation of a lady's favour, as a doctor says no to a bishoprick, only that it may be granted him.---In short, he is a public professor of secrecy, and makes pro clamation that he holds private intelligence. He | innocence; for I told her-Madam, says I, there Val. Why, Tattle, you need not be much concerned at any thing, that he says: for to converse with Scandal, is to play at losing loadum; you must lose a good name to him, before you can win it for yourself. Tatt. But how barbarous that is, and how unfortunate for him, that the world shall think the better of any person for his calumuiation !—I thank Heaven, it has always been a part of my character to handle the reputations of others very tenderly indeed. Scand. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to deal with are to be handled tenderly indeed. Tatt. Nay, why rotten? why should you say rotten, when you know not the persons of whom you speak? How cruel that is! Scand. Not know them? Why, thou never hadst to do with any one, that did not stink to all the town. Tatt. Ha, ha, ha! nay, now you make a jest of it, indeed. For there is nothing more known, than that nobody knows any thing of that nature of me. As I hope to be saved, Valentine, I never exposed a woman, since I knew what Scand. What think you of that noble commoner, Mrs Drab? Tatt. Pooh, I know madam Drab has made her brags in three or four places, that I said this and that, and writ to her, and did I know not what--but, upon my reputation, she did me wrong-well, well, that was malice-but I know the bottom of it. She was bribed to that by one we all know—a man, too—only to bring me into disgrace with a certain woman of quality Scand. Whom we all know. Tutt. No matter for that-Yes, yes, every body knows no doubt on't, every body knows my secrets! But I soon satisfied the lady of my are some persons who make it their business to tell stories, and say this and that of one and the other, and every thing in the world; and, says I, if your grace Scand. Grace! Tatt. O lord, what have I said? My unlucky tongue! Val. Ha, ha, ha! Scand. Why, Tattle, thou hast more impudence than one can in reason expect: I shall have an esteem for thee-well, and ha, ha, ha! well go on, and what did you say to her grace? Val. I confess this is something extraordinary. Tatt. Not a word, as I hope to be saved; an arrant lapsus lingua! Come, let us talk of something else. Val. Well, but how did you acquit yourself? Tatt. Pooh, pooh, nothing at all; I only rallied with you. A woman of ordinary rank was a little jealous of me, and I told her something or other -faith, I know not what; come, let's talk of something else. [Hums a song. Scand. Hang him, let him alone; he has a mind we should inquire. Tatt. Valentine, I supped last night with your mistress, and her uncle old Foresight: I think your father lies at Foresight's. Scand. She says otherwise. Scand. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else. Tatt. Why, then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a woman only obliges a man to secresy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself. Scand. No doubt of it. Well, but has she done you wrong, or no? You have had her? ha! Tatt. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I have more manners than to contradict what a lady has declared. Scand. Well, you own it? Tatt. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I cannot deny it, if she taxes me with it. Scand. She'll be here by and by; she sees Valentine every morning. Tatt. How! Val. She does me the favour-I mean, of a visit sometimes. I did not think she had granted more to any body. Scand. Nor I, faith. But Tattle does not use to belie a lady; it is contrary to his character. demned, like other bad painters, to write the Enter Mrs FRAIL. How one may be deceived in a woman, Valen-O unfortunate! she's come already. Will you tine! Tatt. Nay, what do you mean, gentlemen? Tatt. O barbarous! Why, did you not tell me? Tatt. And bid me ask Valentine? Val. What did I say? I hope you won't bring me to confess an answer, when you never asked me the question? Tatt. But, gentlemen, this is the most inhuman proceeding. Val. Nay, if you have known Scandal thus long, and cannot avoid such a palpable decoy as this was, the ladies have a fine time, whose reputations are in your keeping. Enter JEREMY. have patience till another time? I'll double the number. Scand. Well, on that condition-take heed you don't fail me. Mrs Frail. I shall get a fine reputation, by coming to see fellows in a morning! Scandal, you devil, are you here, too? Oh, Mr Tattle, every thing is safe with you, we know. Scand. Tattle! Tatt. Mum-0 madam, you do me too much honour. Val. Well, lady Galloper, how does Angelica? Mrs Frail. Angelica? Manners! Val. What, you will allow an absent lover Mrs Frail. No, I'll allow a lover present with his mistress to be particular-but otherwise, I think his passion ought to give place to his man Jer. Sir, Mrs Frail has sent to know, if you ners. are stirring. Val. Shew her up when she comes. Tatt. I'll be gone. Val. You'll meet her. Tatt. Is there not a back way? [Exit JEREMY. Val. If there were, you have more discretion than to give Scandal such an advantage; why, your running away will prove all that he can tell her. Val. But what if he has more passion than manners? Mrs Frail. Then let him marry, and reform. Val. Marriage, indeed, may qualify the fury of his passion; but it very rarely mends a man's manners. Mrs Frail. You are the most mistaken in the world; there is no creature perfectly civil, but a husband for in a little time he grows only rude to his wife; and that is the highest good-breedTatt. Scandal, you will not be so ungenerous? ing, for it begets his civility to other people.O, I shall lose my reputation of secrecy for ever. Well, I'll tell you news; but, I suppose, you I shall never be received but upon public days; heard your brother Benjamin is landed. And and my visits will never be admitted beyond a my brother Foresight's daughter is come out of drawing-room: I shall never see a bed-chamber the country-I assure you, there's a match talkagain; never be locked in a closet, nor run behinded of by the old people. Well, if he be but as a screen, or under a table; never be distinguish-great a sea-beast, as she is a land-monster, we ed among the waiting women by the name of shall have a most amphibious breed--the protrusty Mr Tattle, more. You will not be so cruel? geny will be all otters: he has been bred at sea, Val. Scandal, have pity on him; he'll yield to and she has never been out of the country. any conditions. Tatt. Any, any terms. Scand. Come, then, sacrifice half a dozen women of good reputation to me presently. Come, where are you familiar?And see that they are women of quality, too, the first quality. Tatt. 'Tis very hard. Won't a baronet's lady pass? Scand. No, nothing under a right honourable. Val. Pox take them! their conjunction bodes me no good, I'm sure. Mrs Frail. Now you talk of conjunction, my brother Foresight has cast both their nativities, and prognosticates an admiral and an eminent justice of the peace to be the issue-male of their two bodies. 'Tis the most superstitious old fool! He would have persuaded me, that this was an unlucky day, and would not let me come abroad: but I invented a dream, and sent him to Artemidorus for interpretation, and so stole out to see you. Well, and what will you give me now? Come, I must have something. Val. Step into the next room, and I'll give you something. Scand. Aye, we'll all give you something. Val. Mine's a secret. Mrs Frail. I thought you would give me something that would be a trouble to you to keep. Val. And Scandal shall give you a good name. Mrs Frail. That's more than he has for himself. And what will you give me, Mr Tattle? Tatt. I my soul, madam. Mrs Frail. Pooh! no, I thank you, I have enough to do to take care of my own. Well; but I'll come and see you one of these mornings: I hear you have a great many pictures. Tatt. I have a pretty good collection, at your service; some originals. Scand. Hang him, he has nothing but the Seasons and the Twelve Cæsars, paltry copies; and the Five Senses, as ill represented as they are in himself: and he himself is the only original you will see there. Mrs Frail. Ay, but I hear he has a closet of beauties. Scand. Yes, all that have done him favours, if you will believe him. Mrs Frail. So! Scand. Then I have a lady burning brandy, in a cellar, with a hackney coachman. Mrs Frail. O devil! Well, but that story is not true. Scand. I have some hieroglyphics, too. I have a lawyer, with a hundred hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine, with two faces, and one head. And I have a soldier, with his brains in his belly, and his heart where his head should be. Mrs Frail. And no head? Scand. No head. Mrs Frail. Pooh, this is all invention. Have you never a poet? Scand. Yes, I have a poet, weighing words, and selling praise for praise: and a critic picking his pocket. I have another large piece, too, representing a school; where there are huge-proportioned critics, with long wigs, laced coats, Steinkirk-cravats, and terrible faces; with catcalls in their hands, and horn-books about their necks. I have many more of this kind, very well painted, as you shall see. Mrs Frail. Ay, let me see those, Mr Tattle. Tatt. Oh, madam, those are sacred to love and contemplation. No man but the painter and my-prove self was ever blest with the sight. Mrs Frail. Well, but a woman Tutt. Nor woman, till she consented to have her picture there, too--for then she is obliged to keep the secret. Scand. No, no! come to me, if you'd see pictures. Mrs Frail. You? Scand. Yes, faith, I can shew you your own picture, and most of your acquaintance, to the life, and as like as Kneller's. Mrs Frail. O lying creature !-Valentine, does not he lie?—I can't believe a word he says. Val. No, indeed, he speaks truth now: for, as Tattle has pictures of all that have granted him favours, he has the pictures of all that have refused him-if satires, descriptions, characters, and lampoons, are pictures. Scand. Yes, mine are most in black and white and yet there are some set out in their true colours, both men and women. I can shew you pride, folly, affectation, wantonness, inconstancy, covetousness, dissimulation, malice, and ignorance, all in one piece. Then I can shew you lying, foppery, vanity, cowardice, bragging, and ugliness, in another piece: and yet one of these is a celebrated beauty, and t'other a professed beau. I have paintings too, some pleasant enough. Mrs Frail. Come, let's hear them. Scand. Why, I have a beau in bagnio, cupping for a complexion, and sweating for a shape. Mrs Frail. Well, I'll come, if it be but to disyou. Enter JEREMY. Jer. Sir, here's the steward again from your father. Val. I'll come to him. Will you give me leave? I'll wait on you again presently. Mrs Frail. No, I'll be gone. Come, who squires me to the Exchange? I must call on my sister Foresight there. Scand. I will: I have a mind to your sister. Tatt. I will; because I have a tender for your ladyship. Mrs Frail. That's somewhat the better reason, to my opinion Scand. Well, if Tattle entertains you, I have the better opportunity to engage your sister. Val. Tell Angelica, I am about making hard conditions, to come abroad, and be at liberty to see her. Scand. I'll give an account of you and your proceedings. If indiscretion be a sign of love, you are the most a lover of any body that I know. You fancy that parting with your estate will help you to your mistress-In my mind, he is a thoughtless adventurer— Who hopes to purchase wealth by selling land, Or win a mistress with a losing hand. [Exeunt. 1 |