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believe, there is something mysterious in his dis- have I set my heart upon! 0, I am happy to course, and sometimes rather think him inspired have discovered the shelves and quicksands, that than mad.
lurk beneath that smiling faithless face? Fore. You speak with singular good judgment, Ben. lley-toss! what's the matter now? why, Mr Scandal, truly. I am inclining to your Turk- you be’nt angry, be you? ish opinion in this matter, and do reverence a Mrs Frail. O see me no more—for thou wert man, whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to born among rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in him.
a tempest, and whistled to by winds; and thou Mrs Frail. Sister, do you go with them; I'll art come forth with fins and scales, and three find out my lover, and give him bis discharye, rows of teeth, a most outrageous fish of prey. and come to you. [Exeunt SCANDAL, Mr and Ben. O Lord! O Lord! she's mad, poor young Mrs FORESIGHT.] On my conscience, here he woman! Love has turned her senses; her brain comes !
is quite overset. Well-a-day! how shall I do to
set her to rights? Enter Bex.
Mrs Frail. No, no, I am not mad, monster! I
am wise enough to find you out. Hadst thou the Ben. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the impudence to aspire at being a husband, with that calentures of the sea are come ashore, for my stubborn and disobedient temper? You, that part.
know not how to submit to a father, presume Mrs Frail. Mr Benjamin in choler !
to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo a Ben. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have wife? I should have been finely fobbed, indeed! found you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane very finely fobbed ! on your account yonder !
Ben. Harkee, forsooth; if so be, that you are ÁIrs Fruil. My account? Pray, what's the in your right senses, d’ye see, for aught as I permatter?
ceive, I'm like to be finely fobbed—if I have got Ben. Why, father came, and found me squab- anger here upon your account, and you are tacked bling with yon chitty-faced thing, as he would about already! What d’ye mean, after all your have me marry—so he asked, what was the mat- fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, and kisster. He asked in a surly sort of a way. It seems ing and hugging, what, would you sheer off so ? brother Val is gone mad, and so that put'n into a would you, and leave me aground? passion; but what did I know that? what's that Mrs Frail. No, I'll leave you adrift, and go to me? So lie asked in a surly sort of manner which way you will. and, Gad, I answered 'en as surlily. What, thof Ben. What, are you false-hearted, then ? he be my father, I an't bound prentice to 'en : Mrs Frail. Only the wind's changed. so, faith, I told'n, in plain terms, if I were mind Ben. More shame for you! The wind's ed to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him; changed ? It is an ill wind blows nobody good. and, for the young woman that he provided for Mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these me, I thought it more fitting for her to learn her be your tricks. What, did you mean all this sampler, and make dirt-pies, than to look after a while to make a fool of me? husband; for my part, I was none of her man Mrs Frail. Any fool, but a husband. I had another voyage to make, let him take it as Ben. Husband! Gad, I would not be your he will.
husband, if you would have me, now I know your Mrs Frail. So, then, you intend to go to sea mind; thof you had your weight in gold and again?
jewels, and thof I loved you never so well. Ben. Nay, nay, my mind ran upon you—but I Mrs Frail. Why, canst thou love, porpus? would not tell him so much. So he said, he'd Ben. No matter what I can do; don't call make my heart ache; and if so be, that he could names. I don't love you so well as to bear that, get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. whatever I did. I'm glad you shew yourself, Gad, says I, an you play the fool, and marry at mistress : let them inarry you as don't know you. these years, there's more danger of your head's Gad, I know you too well, by sad experience; I aching than my heart! He was woundy angry, believe he that marries you will go to sea in a when I giv’n that wipe-he hadn't a word to say; hen-pecked frigate. I believe that, young woand so I left'n, and the green girl together; may- man! and mayhap may come to an anchor at hap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her him- Cuckold's Point; so there's a dash for you, take self-with all my heart !
it as you will; mayhap you may hollow after me, Mrs Frail. And were you this undutiful and when I won't coine to.
(Erit. graceless wretch to your father?
Mrs Frail. Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on't. (Sings.] Ben. Then, why was he graceless first? If I Ny true love is gone to sea.[Enter ARS am undutiful and graceless, why did he beget me FORESIGHT.] O sister, had you come a minute so? I did not beget myself.
sooner, you would have seen the resolution of a Mrs Frail. O impiety! how have I been mis- lover. Honest Tar and I are parted, and with taken ! What an inhuman merciless creature the same indifference that we met.
Mrs Fore. What, then, he bore it most heroi- morning, may, ten to one, dirty his sheets before cally?
night. But there are two things that you will Mrs Frail. Most tyrannically. But I'll tell see very strange; which are, wanton wives with you a hint that he has given me. Sir Sampson their legs at liberty, and tame cuckolds with is enraged, and talks desperately of committing chains about their necks. But hold, I must examatrimony himself. If he has a inind to throw mine you before I go further; you look suspihimself away, he can't do it more effectually than ciously. Are you a husband? upon me, if we could bring it about.
Fore. I am married. Mrs Fore. O hang him, old fox ! he's too cun Val. Poor creature! Is your wife of Coventning; besides, he hates both you and me. But I garden parish? have a project in my head for you, and I have Fore. No; St Martin in the Fields. gone a good way towards it. I have alınost made Val. Alas, poor man! his eyes are sunk, and a bargain with Jeremy, Valentine's man, to sell his hands shrivelled; his legs dwindled, and his his master to us.
back bowed. Pray, pray for a metamorphosis-Mrs Frail. Sell him? how?
Change thy shape, and shake off age; get thee Mrs Fore. Valentine raves upon Angelica, and Medea's kettle, and be boiled anew; come forth, took me for her, and Jeremy says, will take any with labouring, callous hands, a chine of steel, body for her that he imposes on him. Now, i and Atlas' shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the have promised him mountains, il, in one of his calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pemad tits, he will bring you to him in her stead, destals to stand erect upon; and look matrimony and get you married together, and put to bed to in the face. Ha, ha, ha! that a man should have gether--and after consummation, girl, there's no a stomach to a wedding supper, when the pirevoking. And if he should recover his senses, geons ought rather to be laid to his feet! ha, ha, he'll be glad at least to make you a good settle ha! ment. Here they come; stand aside a little, and Fore. His frenzy is very high, now, Mr Scandal. tell me how you like the design.
Scund. I believe it is a spring tide.
Fore. Very likely truly; you understand these Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, Foresight, and
matters. Mr Scandal, Í shall be very glad to JEREMY.
conter with you, about these things, which he has
uttered. His sayings are very mysterious and Scand. And have you given your master a hint hieroglyphical. of their plot upon him?
[TO JEREMY. Val. Oh, why would Angelica be absent from Jer. Yes, sir; he says he'll favour it, and mis- my eyes so long? take her for Angelica.
Jer. She's here, sir. Scand. It may make us sport.
Mrs Fare. Now, sister. Fore. Mercy on us !
Mrs Frail. O Lord, what must I say? Val. Husht-interrupt me not-I'll whisper
Scand. Humour him, madam, by all means. prediction to thee, and thou shalt prophesy." I Val. Where is she? Oh, I see her! She comes am Honesty, and can teach thy tongue a new like riches, health, and liberty, at once, to a des.. trick. I have told thee what's past-Now, I'll pairing, starving, and abandoned wretch. O weltell what's to come! Dost thou know what will come, welcome! happen to-inorrow? Answer me not; for I will Mrs Frail. How d'ye, sir? can I serve you ? tell thee. To-morrow, knaves will thrive through
Val. Harkee I have a secret to tell craft, and fools through fortune; and Honesty you—Endymion and the moon shall meet us will go, as it did, frost-nipt in a summer-suit. upon Mount Patmos, and we'll be married in Ask me questions concerning to-morrow. the dead of night. But say not a word. Hymen Scand. Ask binn, Mr Foresight.
shall put his torch into a dark lantern, that it Fore. Pray, what will be done at court? may be secret; and Juno shall give her peacock
Val. Scandal will tell you~I am Honesty; I poppy water, that he may fold his ogling tail, never come there.
and Argus's hundred eyes be shut, ha? Nobody Fore. In the city?
shall know but Jeremy. Val. Oh, prayers will be said in empty church Mrs Fruil. No, no, we'll keep it secret; it es, at the usual hours. Yet you will see such shall be done presently, zealous faces behind counters, as if religion were Val. The sooner the better–Jeremy, come hito be sold in every shop. Oh! things will go ther-closer that none may overhear us.methodically in the city. The clocks will strike Jeremy, I can tell you news. Angelica is turned twelve at noon, and the horned herd buz in the nun, and I am turned friar : and yet we'll marry Exchange at two. Husbands and wives will one another in spite of the pope. Get me a drive distinct trades; and care and pleasure se cowl and beads, that I may play my part—for parately occupy the family. Coffee-houses will she'll meet me two hours hence in black and be full of smoke and stratagem. And the cropt white, and a long veil to cover the project; and *prentice that sweeps his inaster's shop in the we won't see one another's faces, till we have Vol. II.
done something to be ashamed ofand then Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it; he may easily we'll blush once for all.
bring it about. They are welcome, and I'll tell
them so myself. [To SCANDAL.] What, do you Enter TATTLE and ANGELICA.
look strange upon me! Then I must be plain.
[Coming up to them.] I am Honesty, and hate Jer. I'll take care, and
an old acquaintance with a new face. Val. Whisper.
[Scandal goes aside with JEREMY, Ang. Nay, Mr Tattle, if you make love to me, Tatt. Do
know Valentine? you spoil my design; for I intend to make you Val. You are you? I hope not. my confident.
Tatt. I am Jack Tattle, your friend. Scand. How's this ! Tattle making love to An Val. My friend! What to do? I'm no marrigelica !
ed man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I Tatt. But, madam, to throw away your per am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money son-such a person ! and such a fortune, on a
Then what employment have I for a madman !
friend? Ang. I never loved him till he was mad; but, Tatt. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be don't tell any body so.
trusted with a secret. Tatt. Tell, madam? alas, you don't know me. Ang. Do you know me, Valentine? I have much ado to tell your ladyship how long Val. Oh, very well. I have been in love with you—but, encouraged Ang. Who am I? by the impossibility of Valentine's making any Val. You're a woman-one, to whom Heaven more addresses to you, I have ventured to de- gave beauty, when it grafted roses on a briar.clare the very inmost passion of my heart. Oh, You are the reflection of heaven in a pond; and madam, look upon us both. There, you see the he, that leaps at you, is sunk. You are all white, ruins of a poor decayed creature ! Here, a com a sheet of lovely spotless paper, when you were plete lively tigure, with youth and health, and all first born; but you are to be scrawled and blothis tive senses in perfection, madam; and to all ted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I this, the most passionate lover
loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I Ang. O, fie for shame! hold your tongue. A found out a strange thing; I found out what a passionate lover, and five senses in perfection! woman was good for. When you are as mad as Valentine, I'll believe Tatt. Ay, prithee, what's that? you love me; and the maddest shall take me. Val. Why, to keep a secret. Val. It is enough. Ha! who's there ;
Tatt. O Lord ! Mrs Fruil. O Lord, lier coming will spoil all. Val. O, exceeding good to keep a secret; for,
[To JEREMY. though she should tell, yet sbe is not believed. Jer. No, no, madam; he won't know her; if Tatt. Ha! good again, faith. he should, I can persuade him.
Jer. [JEREMY and Scandal whisper.] I'll do Val. Scandal, who are these? Foreigners? If it, sir. they are, I'll tell you what I think. Get away Scand. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. all the
company but Angelica, that I may disco- Ile may grow outrageous, and do mischief. ver my design to her.
[Il'hispers. Fore. I will be directed by you. Scand. I will. I have discovered something of Jer. (To Mrs Frail..) You'll meet, madam.-Tattle, that is of a piece with Mrs Frail. He I'll take care every thing shall be ready. courts Angelica; if we could contrive to couple Mrs Frail. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in them together-Harkee
[Whispers. short, I will deny thee nothing. Mirs Fore. He won't know you, cousin; he Tait. Madam, shall I wait upon you? knows nobody.
[TO ANGELICA. Fore. But he knows more than any body. Ang. No, I'll stay with him. Mr Scandal Oh, niece, he knows things past, and things to will protect me. Aunt, Mr Tattle desires you come, and all the profound secrets of tiine. would give bim leave to wait upon you.
Tatt. Look you, Mr Foresight; it is not my Tatt, Pox on't, there's no coining ofi, now she way to make many words of matters, and so I has said that, Madam, will you do me the hoshan't say much. But, in short, d'ye see, I will nour? hold you a hundred pounds now, that I know Mrs Fore. Mr Tattle might have used less more secrets than he.
Fore. How? I cannot read that knowledge in [Ereunt Mrs Frail, Mr and Mrs Foreyour face, Mr Tattle. Pray, what do you know? SIGHT and Tattle.]
Tatt. Why, d’ye think I'll tell you, sir? Rcad Scand. Jeremy, follow Tattle. [Exit JEREMY. it in my face! No, sir, it is written in my heart; Ang. Mr Scandal, I only stay till ny maid and safer there, sir, than letters written in juice comes, and because I have a mind to be rid of of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no Mr Tattle. blab, sir.
Scand. Madam, I am very glad that Ioverhcard
a better reason which you gave to Mr Tattle; to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge any freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to any projector, fanatic, chemist, lover, or poet, in all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll Europe. leave him to make use of the discovery, and Vol. Sirrah, you lie; l'ın not mad. your ladyship to the free confession of
in Ang. lla, ha, ha! you see he denies it. clinations.
Jer. O Lord, madam ! did you ever know any Ang. Oh Heavens! you won't leave me alone madman mad enough to own it? with a madman?
Val. Sot, can't you apprehend? Scand. No, madam; I only leave a madman Ang. Why, he talked very sensibly just now. to his remedy.
Jer. Yes, madam; he has intervals : but you Val. Madam, you need not be very much see he begins to look wild again now, afraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself. Val. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you Ang. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer. Aside.
[Beats him. Val. You see what disguises love makes us Ang. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy? put on. Gods have been in counterfeited Jer. Partly, I think—for he does not know shapes for the same reason; and the divine his own mind two hours. I'm sure I left bim part of me, my mind, has worn this masque just now in the humour to be mad : and I think of madness, and this motly livery, only as I have not found hiin very quiet at the present. the slave of love, and menial creature of your [One knocks.] Who's there? beauty.
Val. Go sce, you sot. I'ın very glad that I Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks!--Poor can move your mirth, though not your compasValentine !
Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one Ang. I did not think you had apprehension another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws enough to be exceptious : but madmen shew towards an end; and let us think of leaving themselves most by over-pretevding to a sound acting, and be ourselves; and, since you have understanding, as drunken inen do by over-acting loved me, you must own, I have at length deserv- sobriety. I was half inclining to believe you, ed you should confess it.
till I accidentally touched upon your tender part. Ang. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you !-for, But now you have restored me to my former Heaven knows, I pity you; and, could I have opinion and compassion. foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you but that's too late!
are any better yet.—Will you please to be mad, Val. What bad effects? what's too late? My sir, or how? seeming madness bas deceived my father, and Val. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all procured me time to think of means to reconcile I'm worth must pay for the confession of my me to him, and preserve the right of my inheri- senses.--I'm mad, and will be mad, to every tance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I body but this lady. must this morning have resigned. And this I Jer. So ;- just the very back-side of truth. had informed you of to-day, but you were gone But lying is a figure in speech, that interlards the before I knew you had been here.
greatest part of my conversation.--Madam, your Ang. How !' I thought your love of me had ladyship's woman. caused this transport in your soul, which, it
Enter Jexxy. seems, you only counterfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest.
Ang. Well, have you been there?-Come Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any hither. interest was considered, it was yours; since I Jenny. Yes, madam! sir Sampson will wait thought I wanted more than love to make me upon you presently. [Aside to Angelica. worthy of you.
Val. You are not leaving me in this uncerAng. Then you thought me mercenary-But tainty? how am I deluded, hy this interval of sense, to Ang. Would any thing but a madman comreason with a madman?
plain of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectaVal. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me tion are the joys of life. Security is an insipid longer.
thing; and the overtaking and possessing of a
wish discovers the folly of the chase. Never Enter JEREMY.
let us know one another better; for the pleasure Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creature !-sure of a masquerade is done, when we come to shew he will not have the impudence to persevere! our faces. But I'll tell you two things before I -Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, leave you; I am not the fool you take me for; and confess your master's madness counterfeit. and you are mad, and don't know it. Jer. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him
(Exeunt ANGELICA and JENNY.
Val. From a riddle you can expect nothing Hebrew books backwards. May be you begin but a riddle. There's my instruction, and the to read at the wrong end. moral of my lesson.
Val. They say so of a witch's prayer; and Jer. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I dreams and Dutch almanacks are to be underhope you understood one another before she stood by contraries. Yet, while she does not went?
seem to hate me, I will pursue ber, and know her, Val. Understood! she is harder to be un if it be possible, in spite of the opinion of my saderstood than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or
tirical friend, who saysan Irish manuscript; you may pore till you That women are like tricks hy slight of hand; spoil your eyes, and not improve your know Which, to adınire, we should not understand. ledge.
[Ereunt. Jer. I have heard them say, sir, they read hard
SCENE I.- A room in Foresight's house. they should bring forth fruit. I am of a long
lived race, and inherit vigour. None of my anEnter ANGELICA and JENNY.
cestors married till fifty; yet they begot sons and Ang. Where is sir Sampson? did you not tell | daughters till fourscore. I am of your patrime he would be here before me?
archs, I, a branch of one of your antediluvian Jenny. He's at the great glass in the dining-families, fellows that the flood could not wash room, madam, setting his cravat and wig. away. Well, madam, what are your commands ?
Ang. How! I'm glad on't. If he has a mind Has any young rogue affronted you, and shall I I should like him, it's a sign he likes me; and cut his throat ? or that's more than half my design.
Ang. No, sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upJenny. I hear him, madam.
on my hands--I have more occasion for your Ang. Leave me; and, d’ye hear, if Valentine conduct, than your courage, at this time. To tell should comc, or send, I'm not to be spoken with. you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and
[Exit Jenny. want a husband.
Sir Sam. Od’s-bud, and it is pity you should ! Enter SIR SAMPSON.
Odd, would she would like ne! then I should Sir Sam. I have not been honoured with the hamper my young rogues : odd, would she commands of a fair lady a great while. Odd, would ! faith and troth, she's devilish handsome! madam, you bave revived me—not since I was --[Aside.)-Madam, you deserve a good husfive and thirty.
band; and 'twere pity you should be thrown Ang. Why, you have no great reason to com away upon any of these young idle rogues about plain, sir Sampson; that's not long ago.
the town. Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow Sir Sam. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great worth hanging—that is, a very young fellowwhile; to a man that admires a fine woman as Pize on them, they never think beforehand of much as I do.
any thing—and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as Ang. You're an absolute courtier, sir Samp- they comunit murder; out of a frolic; and are
ready to hang themselves, or to be hangerl by the Sir Sam. Not at all, madam. Od's-bud, you law, the next morning. Odso, have a care, mawrong me: I am not so old, neither, to be a bare dam. courtier, only a man of words. Odd, I have Ang. Therefore, I ask your advice, sir Sampwarm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady son. I have fortune enough to make any man any way. Come, come, let me tell you, you wo- easy that I can like; if there were such a thing men think a man old too soon; faith and troth as a young agreeable man, with a reasonable you do. Come, don't despise fifty; Odd, fifty, stock of good-nature and sense-for I would neiin a bale constitution, is no such contemptible ther have an absolute wit, nor a fool. age!
Sir Sam. Odd, you are hard to please, madam: Ang. Fifty a contemptible age! not at all: a to find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his very fashionable age, I think I assure you, I own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a know very considerable beaux, that set a good very hard task. But, faith and troth, you speak face upon fifty. Fifty! I have seen fifty in a very discreetly. I hate a wit; I had a son that side-box, by candle-light, out-blossom five-and was spoilt among them; a good, hopeful lad, till twenty.
he learnt to be a wit--and might have risen in Sir Sam. Outsides, outsides! a pize take them, the state. But, a pox on't, his wit ran him out mere outsides. Hang your side-box beaux; no, of his money, and now his poverty has run him I'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that out of his wits. pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell