Mrs Frail. Fie, miss! amongst your linen you must say; you must never say smock. Miss Prue. Why, it is not bawdy, is it, cousin? Tatt. Oh, madam! you are too severe upon miss: you must not find fault with her pretty simplicity; it becomes her strangely. Pretty miss, don't let them persuade you out of your innocency! Mrs Fore. Oh, demn you, toad! I wish you don't persuade her out of her innocency! Tatt. Who I, madam? O Lord, how can your ladyship have such a thought? sure you don't know me! Mrs Frail. Ah, devil, sly devil! He's as close, sister, as a confessor. He thinks we don't observe him. Mrs Fore. A cunning cur! how soon he could find out a fresh harmless creature-and left us, sister, presently. Tatt. Upon reputation Mrs Frail. They're all so, sister, these men; they are as fond of it, as of being first in the fashion, or of seeing a new play the first day. I warrant it would break Mr Tattle's heart, to think that any body else should be before-hand with him! Tatt. Oh, Lord! I swear I would not for the world Mrs Frail. O, hang you; who'll believe you? You'll be hanged before you'd confess we know you-she's very pretty! Lord, what pure red and white! she looks so wholesome; ne'er stir, I don't know, but I fancy if I were a man Miss Prue. How you love to jeer one, cousin. Mrs Fore. Hark'ee, sister-by my soul, the girl is spoiled already-d'ye think she'll ever endure a great lubberly tarpawlin? Gad, I warrant you she won't let him come near her, after Mr Tattle. Mrs Frail. On my soul, I'm afraid not--eh! filthy creature, that smells all of pitch and tar! Devil take you, you confounded toad-why did you see her before she was married? Mrs Fore. Nay, why did we let him? My husband will hang us; he'll think we brought them acquainted. Mrs Frail. Come, faith, let us be gone; if my brother Foresight should find us with them, he'd think so, sure enough. Mrs Fore. So he would; but then the leaving them together is as bad; and he's such a sly devil, he'll never miss an opportunity. Mrs Frail. I don't care; I won't be seen in it. Mrs Fore. Well, if you should, Mr Tattle, you'll have a world to answer for: remember, I wash my hands of it; I'm thoroughly innocent. [Exeunt MRS FRAIL and MRS FORESIGHT. Miss Prue. What makes them go away, Mr Tattle? What do they mean, do you know? Tatt. Yes, my dear--I think I can guess--but hang me if I know the reason of it. Miss Prue. Come, must not we go, too? Tatt. No, no; they don't mean that. Miss Prue. No! what then? What shall you and I do together? Tatt. I must make love to you, pretty miss; will you let me make love to you? Miss Prue. Yes, if you please. Tatt. Frank, egad, at least. What a pox does Mrs Foresight mean by this civility? Is it to make a fool of me? or does she leave us together out of good morality, and do as she would be done by? Egad, I'll understand it so. [Aside. Miss Prue. Well, and how will you make love me?-Come, I long to have you begin. Must I make love, too? You must tell me how. to Tatt. You must let me speak, miss; you must not speak first. I must ask you questions, and you must answer. Miss Prue. What, is it like the catechism? Come, then, ask me. Tatt. D'ye think you can love me? Miss Prue. Yes. Tatt. Pooh, pox, you must not say yes already. I shan't care a farthing for you, then, in a twinkling. Miss Prue. What must I say then? Tatt. Why, you must say, no; or, believe not; or, you can't tell. Miss Prue. Why, must I tell a lie, then? Tatt. Yes, if you'd be well-bred. All wellbred persons lie-Besides, you are a woman ;you must never speak what you think: your words must contradict your thoughts; but your actions may contradict your words. So, when I ask you, if you can love me, you must say, no; but you must love me, too. If I tell you you are handsome, you must deny it, and say, I flatter you. But you must think yourself more charming than I speak you-and like me for the beauty which I say you have, as much as if I had it myself. If I ask you to kiss me, you must be angry; but you must not refuse me. If I ask you for more, you must be more angry, but more complying; and as soon as ever I make you say, you'll cry out, you must be sure to hold your tongue. Miss Prue. O Lord, I swear this is pure !-I like it better than our old-fashioned country way of speaking one's mind. And must not you lie, too? Tatt. Hum!-Yes; but you must believe I speak truth. Miss Prue. O Gemini ! Well, I always had a great mind to tell lies--but they frighted me, and said it was a sin. Tatt. Well, my pretty creature, will you make me happy by giving me a kiss? Miss Prue. No, indeed; I'm angry at you! [Runs and kisses him. Tatt. Hold, hold, that's pretty well-but you should not have given me, but have suffered me to have taken it. Miss Prue. Well, we'll do't again. Tatt. With all my heart-Now, then, my little angel! [Kisses her. Miss, miss, miss Prue !-Mercy on me, marry, and amen!-Why, what's become of the child? -Why, miss, miss Foresight!Sure she has locked herself up in her chamber, and gone to sleep, or to prayers!-Miss, miss!-I hear her. Come to your father, child. Open the doorOpen the door, miss. I hear you cry hushtO'Lord, who's there? [Peeps.]-What's here to do? O the Father! a man with her!-Why, miss, I say; God's my life! here's fine doings towards-O Lord, we're all undone!-O you young harlotry!-[Knocks.]—Ods my life, won't you open the door? I'll come in the back Enter TATTLE and MISS PRUE. Miss Prue. O Lord, she's coming-and tell my father. What shall I do now? way. Ang. What, are you setting up for good nature? Scand. Only for the affectation of it, as the women do for ill-nature. Ang. Persuade your friend that it is all affectation. Scand. I shall receive no benefit from the opinion: for I know no effectual difference between continued affectation and reality. Enter SIR SAMPSON, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE, and Servant. Sir Sam. Is Ben come? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't. Where is he? I long to see him. Now, Mrs Frail, you shall see my son Ben. Body o'me, he's the hopes of my fa[Exit.mily--I ha'nt seen him these three years---I warrant he's grown!-Call him in; bid him make haste-Exit Servant.]---I'm ready to cry for joy. Mrs Frail. Now, miss, you shall see your hus she'll Tatt. Pox take her! if she had staid two minutes longer, I should have wished for her coming. Miss Prue. O dear, what shall I say? tell me, Mr Tattle, tell me a lie. Tatt. There's no occasion for a lie: I could never tell a lie to no purpose---But, since we have done nothing, we must say nothing, I think. I hear her--I'll leave you together, and come off as you can. [Thrusts her in, and shuts the door. Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and ANGELICA. Ang. You can't accuse me of inconstancy; never told you that I loved you. Val. But I can accuse you of uncertainty, for not telling me whether you did or not. Ang. You mistake indifference for uncertainty; I never had concern enough to ask myself the question. band. Be Ang. Won't you stay and see your brother? Val. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere; when he rises, I must set. sides, if I should stay, I don't know but my father, in good-nature, may press me to the immediate signing the deed of conveyance of my estate; and I'll defer it as long as I can. Well, you'll come to a resolution? Ang. I cannot. Resolution must come to me, Ior I shall never have one. Scand. Come, Valentine, I'll go with you; I have something in my head to communicate to you. [Exeunt SCANDAL and VALENTINE. Sir Samp. What! is my son Valentine gone? What is he sneaked off, and would not see his Scand. Nor good-nature enough to answer brother? There's an unnatural whelp! there's an him that did ask you: I'll say that for you, ma-ill-natured dog! What! were you here, too, madam. dam, and could not keep him? could neither love, nor duty, nor natural affection, oblige him? | have a many questions to ask you; well, you Odsbud, madam, have no more to say to him; ben't married again, father, be you? he is not worth your consideration. The rogue Sir Sam. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben; has not a drachm of generous love about him- I would not marry, for thy sake. all interest, all interest! He's an undone scoundrel, and courts your estate. Body o'me, he does not care a doit for your person. Ang. I am pretty even with him, sir Sampson; for, if ever I could have liked any thing in him, it should have been his estate, too. But, since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears. Sir Sam. Odsbud. well spoken; and you are a wiser woman than I thought you were: for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted with a naked hook. Ang. If I marry, sir Sampson, I am for a good estate with any man, and for any man with a good estate: therefore, if I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than your Ben. Nay, what does that signify? An you marry again-why, then, I'll go to sea again; so there's one for t'other, and that be all. Pray, don't let me be your hindrance; e'en marry, a God's name, and the wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry. Mrs Frail. That would be pity, such a handsome young gentleman! Ben. Handsome! he, he, he! Nay, forsooth, an you be for joking, I'll joke with you; for I love my jest, an the ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards matrimony. I love to roam from port to port, and from land to land: I could never abide to be port-bound, as we call it. Now a man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the bilboes, and mayhap may'nt get them out again when he would. Sir Sam. Ben is a wag! Ben. A man that is married, d'ye sec, is no more like another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors: he is chained to an oar all his life; and mayhap forced to tug a leaky Sir Sam. Faith and troth, you are a wise woman; and I'm glad to hear you say so. I was afraid you were in love with a reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart. Hang him, mongrel! cast him off. You shall see the rogue shew himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of fourscore for sustenance.-vessel into the bargain. Odd, I love to see a young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy roundly a dead oak-faith, I do. I love to see them hug and cotton together, like down upon a thistie. Enter BEN and Servant. Ben. Where's father? Ser. There, sir; his back's toward you. [Exit. Sir Sam. My son Ben! Bless thee, dear boy! Body o' me, thou art heartily welcome. Ben. Thank you, father; and I'm glad to see you. Sir Sam. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee.--Kiss me, boy; kiss me again and again, dear Ben. [Kisses him. Mess, I'd rather Ben. So, so, enough, father. kiss these gentlewomen. Sir Sam. And so thou shalt. my son Ben. Mrs Angelica, Ben. Forsooth, if you please! [Salutes her.] Nay, mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here about ship, i' faith. [Kisses FRAIL.] Nay, and you, too, my little cock-boat! so. [Kisses Miss. Tatt. Sir, you're welcome ashore. Ben. Thank you, thank you, friend. Sir Sam. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw thee. Ben. Ey, ey, been? been far enough, and that be all. Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val? Sir Sum. Dick! body o'me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word, when you were at Leghorn. Ben. Mass, that's true: marry, I had forgot. Dick is dead, as you say. Well, and how-1 Sir Sam. A very wag! Ben is a very wag! ona little rough; he wants a little polishing. Mrs Frail. Not at all; I like his humour mightily: it is plain and honest; I should like such a humour in a husband extremely. Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you, mistress?would you like a going to sea? Mess, you're a a tight vessel, and well-rigged, an you were but as well manned. Mrs Frail. I should not doubt that, if you were master of me. Ben. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high wind, or that lady-you may'nt carry so much sail o'your head-Top and top gailant, by the mess! Mrs Frail. No? why so? Ben. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset: and then you'll carry your keels above water-he, he, he! Ang. I swear, Mr Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature; an absolute sea wit. Sir Sam. Nay, Ben has parts; but, as I told you before, they want a little polishing. You must not take any thing ill, madain. Ben. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry; I mean all in good part: for, if I give a jest, I'll take a jest; and so, forsooth, you may be as free with me. Ang. I thank you, sir; I am not at all offended. But, methinks, sir Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr Tattle, we must not hinder lovers. Tatt. Well, miss, I have your promise. [Aside to Miss. Sir Sam. Body o'me, madam, you say true.— Look you, Ben, this is your mistress. Come, miss, you must not be shame-faced; we'll leave you together. Miss Prue. I can't abide to be left alone.Mayn't my cousin stay with me? Sir Sam. No, no. Come, let's away. Ben. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking to ine. Come, come, Sir Sam. I warrant thee, boy. we'll be gone. I'll venture that. [Exeunt SIR SAMPSON, TATTLE, and Mrs FRAIL. Ben. Come, mistress, will you please to sit down? For,.an you stand astern a that'n, we shall never grapple together Come, I'll hawl a chair; there, an you please to sit, I'll sit by you. Miss Prue. You need not sit so near one; if you have any thing to say, I can hear you farther off; I an't deaf. Ben. Why that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb; I can be heard as far as another. I'll heave off, to please you. [Sits farther off.]— An we were a league asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse with you, an 'twere not a main high wind, indeed, and full in my teeth. Look you, forsooth; I am, as it were, bound for the land of matrimony: 'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking; I was commanded by father, and if you like it, mayhap I may steer into your harbour. How say you, mistress? The short of the thing is, that if you like me, and I like you, we may chance to swing in a hammock together. Miss Prue. I don't know what to say to you, nor I don't care to speak with you at all. Ben. No! I am sorry for that. But, pray, why are you so scornful? : Miss Prue. As long as one must not speak one's mind, one had better not speak at all, I think; and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter. Ben. Nay, you say true in that; it's but a folly to lie for to speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way, is, as it were, to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see, I'm for carrying things above board;I'm not for keeping any thing under hatchesso that, if you ben't as willing as I, say so, a God's name; there's no harm done. Mayhap, you may be shame-faced; some maidens, though they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why silence gives consent. Miss Prue. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner than you should believe that ; and I'll speak truth, though one should always tell a lie to a man; and I don't care, let my father do what he will, I'm too big to be whipt; so I'll tell you plainly, I don't like you, nor love you at all; nor VOL. II. never will, that's more. So, there's your answer for you; and don't trouble me no more, you ugly thing. Ben. Look you, young woman, you may learn to give good words, however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and civil. As for your love, or your liking, I don't value it of a rope's end—and mayhap I like you as little as you do me. What I said was in obedience to father. Gad, I fear a whipping no more than you do. But I tell you one thing-if you should give such language at sea, you'd have a cat o' nine tails laid across your shoulders. Flesh! who are you? You heard the other handsome young woman speak civilly to me, of her own accord. Whatever you think of yourself, Gad, I don't think you are any more to compare to her, than a can of small-beer to a bowl of punch. Miss Prue. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a fine gentleman, and a sweet gentleman, that was here, that loves me, and I love him; and, if he sees you speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket for you; he will, you great sea-calf. Ben. What! do you mean that fair-weather spark that was here just now? Will he thrash my jacket? Let'n---let'n. But an' he comes near me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that. What does father mean, to leave me alone, as soon as I come home, with such a dirty dowdy? Sea calf! I an't calf enough to lick your chalked face, you cheese-curd, you, Marry thee! 'Oons, I'll marry a Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds, and wrecked vessels. Miss Prue. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus, so I won't. If I were a man--[Cries.]--you durst not talk at this rate--no, you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel. Enter MRS FORESIGHT and MRS FRAIL. Mrs Fore. They have quarrelled, just as we could wish. Ben. Tar-barrel! Let your sweetheart there, call me so, if he'll take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say something to him---Gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for him. I'll make him stink; he shall smell more like a weasel than a civet cat, afore I ha' done with 'en. Mrs Fore. Bless me! what's the matter, miss? What, does she cry? Mr Benjamin, what have you done to her? Ben. Let her cry: the more she cries, the less she'll--she has been gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her eyes. Mrs Fore. Come, miss, come along with me; and tell me, poor child. Mrs Frail. Lord, what shall we do? There's my brother Foresight and sir Sampson coming. sister, do you take miss down into the parlour, and I'll carry Mr Benjamin into my chamber; 2. P for they must not know that they are fallen out. I Come, sir, will you venture yourself with me? [Looking kindly on him. Ben. Venture? Mess, and that I will, though it were to sea in a storm. [Exeunt. Enter SIR SAMPSON and FORESIGHT. Sir Sam. I left them together here. What, are they gone? Ben is a brisk boy: he has got her into a corner-father's own son, faith! he'll touzle her, and mouzle her. The rogue's sharp set coming from sea. If he should not stay for saying grace, old Foresight, but fall to without the help of a parson, ha? Odd, if he should, I could not be angry with him; 'twould be but like me, a chip of the old block. Ha! thou art melancholic, old prognostication; as melancholic as if thou hadst spilt the salt, or paired thy nails on a Sunday. Come, cheer up, look about thee: look up, old star-gazer. Now is he poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an old horsenail, with the head towards him. Fore. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding tomorrow morning. Sir Sam. With all my heart. Fore. At ten o'clock; punctually at ten. Sir Sam. To a minute, to a second; thou shalt set thy watch, and the bridegroom shall observe its motions; they shall be married to a minute, go to bed to a minute; and, when the alarm strikes, they shall keep time like the figures of St Dunstan's clock, and consummatum est shall ring all over the parish! Enter Servant. Ser. Sir, Mr Scandal desires to speak with you upon earnest business. Fore. I go to him; sir Sampson, your servant. [Exit FORESIGHT. Sir Sam. What's the matter, friend? Ser. Sir, 'tis about your son Valentine; something has appeared to him in a dream, that makes him prophecy. Enter SCANDAL. Scand. Sir Sampson, sad news. Sir Sam. Why, what's the matter? Scand. Can't you guess at what ought to afflict you and him, and all of us, more than any thing else? don't know what it may come to-but it has had a consequence already, that touches us all. Sir Sam. Why, body o' me, out with it. Scand. Something has appeared to your son Valentine-he's gone to bed upon't, and very ill. He speaks little, yet he says he has a world Asks for his father and the wise Foresight; talks of Raymond Lully, and the ghost of Lilly. He has secrets to impart, I suppose, to you, too. I can get nothing out of him but sighs. He desires he may see you in the morning; but would not be disturbed to-night, because he has some busiuess to do in a dream. to say. Sir Sam. Hoity toity! what have I to do with his dreams or his divination? body o' me, this is a trick, to defer signing the conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him in a dream, that he must not part with his estate. But I'll bring him a parson to tell him that the devil's a liar—or, if that won't do, I'll bring a lawyer, that shall outlie the devil; and so I'll try whether my blackguard, or his, shall get the better of the day. [Exit SIR SAMPSON. Scand. Alas! Mr Foresight, I am afraid all is not right. You are a wise man, and a conscientious man; a searcher into obscurity and futurity; and, if you commit an error, it is with a great deal of consideration, and discretion, and caution. Fore. Ah, good Mr Scandal! Scand. Nay, nay, 'tis manifest; I do not flatter you. But sir Sampson is hasty, very hastyI'm afraid he is not scrupulous enough, Mr Foresight. He has been wicked; and Heaven grant he may mean well in this affair with you! but my mind gives me, these things cannot be wholly insignificant. You are wise, and should not be over-reached: methinks you should not. Fore. Alas, Mr Scandal—– Humanum est errare! Scand. You say true, man will err; mere man will err: but you are something more. There have been wise men; but they were such as you -men who consulted the stars, and were observers of omens. Solomon was wise; but how? by his judgment in astrology. So says Pineda, in his third book, and eighth chapter. Fore. You are learned, Mr Scandal, Scand. A trifler-but a lover of art. And the wise men of the east owed their instructions to a star; which is rightly observed by Gregory the Great, in favour of astrology. And Albertus Magnus makes it the most valuable science-because, says he, it teaches us to consider the cauSir Sam. Body o' me! I don't know any uni-sation of causes, in the causes of things. versal grievance, but a new tax, or the loss of the Canary fleet-unless popery should be landed in the west, or the French fleet were at anchor at Blackwall. ters. Fore. I protest, I honour you, Mr Scandal. I did not think you had been read in these matFew young men are inclinedScand. I thank my stars that have inclined But I fear this marriage, and making over the estate, this transferring of a rightful inheritance, will bring judgments upon us. I propheScand. No, not yet; no whirlwind. But we cy it; and I would not have the fate of Cassan Scand. No! undoubtedly, Mr Foresight knew all this, and might have prevented it. Fore. 'Tis no earthquake? me. |