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THE

BUSY BODY.

BY

Mrs CENTLIVRE.

PROLOGUE.

prove

true.

THOUGH modern prophets were expos'd of late,
The author could not prophecy her fate:
If with such scenes an audience had been fir'd,
The poet must have really been inspir'd.
But these, alas! are melancholy days
For modern prophets and for modern plays:
Yet, since prophetic lies please fools o' fashion,
And women are so fond of agitation,
To men of sense I'll prophecy anew,
And tell you wondrous things that will
Undaunted col'nels will to camps repair,
Assur'd there'll be no skirmishes this year;
On our own terms will flow the wish'd-for peace,
All wars except 'twixt man and wife will cease;
The grand monarque may wish his son a throne,
But hardly will advance to lose his own.
This season most things bear a smiling face,
But play'rs in summer have a dismal case,
Since your appearance only is our act of grace.
Court-ladies will to country-seats be gone,
My lord cann't all the year live great in town;
Where, wanting operas, basset, and a play,
They'll sigh, and stitch a gown, to pass the time

away:

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SCENE I.-The Park.

ACT I.

Sir GEORGE AIRY meeting CHARLES. Cha. Ha! Sir George Airy a-birding thus early! what forbidden game rous'd you so soon? for no lawful occasion could invite a person of your figure abroad, at such unfashionable hours.

Sir Geo. There are some men, Charles, whom fortune has left free from inquietudes, who are diligently studious to find out ways and means to make themselves uneasy.

Cha. Is it possible that any thing in nature can ruffle the temper of a man whom the four seasons of the year compliment with as many thousand pounds, nay, and a father at rest with his ancestors?

Sir Geo. Why, there it is now! a man that wants money thinks none can be unhappy that has it; but my affairs are in such a whimsical posture, that it will require a calculation of my nativity to find if my gold will relieve me or not.

Cha. Ha, ha, ha' never consult the stars about that; gold has a power beyond them, gold unlocks the midnight councils, gold outdoes the wind, becalms the ship, or fills her sails! gold is omnipotent below; it makes whole armies fight or fly; it buys even souls, and bribes wretches to betray their country: then, what can thy business be that gold won't serve thee in?

Sir Geo. Why, I'm in love.

Cha. In love!-Ha, ha, ha, ha! in love -Ha, ha, ha, ha! with what, pr'ythee? a che rubine?

Sir Geo. No, with a woman.

Cha. A woman! good. Ha, ha, ha, ha! and gold not help thee?

Sir Geo. But suppose I'm in love with twoCha. Ay, if thou'rt in love with two hundred, gold will fetch 'em, I warrant thee, boy. But who are they? who are they? come.

Sir Geo. One is a lady whose face I never saw, but witty to a miracle; the other beautiful as

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the other.

Cha. And, pray, which are you in quest of now? Sir Geo. I prefer the sensual pleasure; I'm for her I've seen, who is thy father's ward, Miranda.

Cha. Nay, then, I pity you; for the Jew my father will no more part with her and thirty thousand pounds than he would with a guinea to keep me from starving.

Sir Geo. Now, you see gold cann't do every thing, Charles.

Cha. Yes, for 'tis her gold that bars my father's

gate against you.

Sir Geo. Why, if he be this avaricious wretch, how cam'st thou by such a liberal education?

Cha. Not a sous out of his pocket, I assure you: I had an uncle who defray'd that charge; but for some little wildnesses of youth, though he made me his heir, left dad my guardian till I came to years of discretion, which I presume the old gentleman will never think I am! and now, he has got the estate into his clutches, it does me no more good than if it lay in Prester John's domi

nions.

Sir Geo. What, canst thou find no stratagem to redeem it?

Cha. I have made many essays to no purpose; though want, the mistress of invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old fox is too cunning for e-I am upon my last project, which, if it fails, then for my last refuge, a brown musquet.

Sir Geo. What is't? can I assist thee? Cha. Not yet; when you can, I have confidence enough in you to ask it.

Sir Geo. I am always ready. But what does he intend to do with Miranda? Is she to be sold in private, or will he put her up by way of auction, at who bids most? if so, 'egad I'm for him; my gold, as you say, shall be subservient to my pleasure.

Cha. To deal ingenuously with you, Sir George, I know very little of her or home; for, since my uncle's death and my return from travel, I have never been well with my father; he thinks my expences too great, and I his allowance too little; he never sees me but he quarrels, and, to avoid that, I shun his house as much as possible. The report is, he intends to marry her himself.

Sir Geo. Can she consent to it?

Cha. Yes, faith, so they say: but I tell you, I am wholly ignorant of the matter. Miranda and I are like two violent members of a contrary party; I can scarce allow her beauty, though all the world does, nor she me civility for that contempt. I fancy she plays the mother-in-law already, and sets the old gentleman on to do mischief.

Sir Geo. Then I have your free consent to get her?

Cha. Ay, and my helping hand, if occasion be. Sir Geo. Poh! yonder's a fool coming this way, let's avoid him.

Cha. What, Marplot? No, no, he's my instrument; there's a thousand conveniencies in him; he'll lend me his money when he has any, run of my errands, and be proud on't; in short, he'll pimp for me, lie for me, drink for me, do any thing but fight for me; and that I trust to my

own arm for.

Sir Geo. Nay, then, he's to be endured; I never knew his qualifications before.

Enter MARPLOT, with a patch cross his face. Mar. Dear Charles, yours-Ha! Sir George Airy! the man in the world I have an ambition to be known to. [Aside.] Give me thy hand,

dear

boy. Cha. A good assurance! But, hark ye, how came your beautiful countenance clouded in the wrong place?

Mar. I must confess 'tis a little mal à-propos; but no matter for that. A word with you, Charles. Pr'ythee, introduce me to Sir George-he is a man of wit, and I'd give ten guineas to

Cha. When you have 'em, you mean.

Mar. Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the thread of my discourse- -I would give ten guineas, I say, to be rank'd in his acquaintance. Well, 'tis a vast addition to a man's fortune, according to the rout of the world, to be seen in the company of leading men; for then we are all thought to be politicians, or whigs, or jacks, or high-flyers, or low-flyers, or levellers-and so forth; for you must know we all herd in parties now. Cha. Then a fool for diversion is out of fashion I find.

Mar. Yes, without it be a mimicking fool, and they are darlings every where. But, pr'ythee, introduce me.

Cha. Well, on condition you'll give us a true account how you came by that mourning nose, I will.

Mar. I'll do it.

Cha. Sir George, here's a gentleman has a passionate desire to kiss your hand.

Sir Geo. Oh, I honour men of the sword! and I presume this gentleman is lately come from Spain or Portugal-by his scars.

Mar. No, really, Sir George, mine sprung from civil fury. Happening last night into the groom porter's-I had a strong inclination to go ten guineas with a sort of a, sort of a-kind of a milksop, as I thought. A pox of the dice! he flung out, and my pockets being empty, as Charles knows they often are, he proved a surly North Briton, and broke my face for my deficiency.

Sir Geo. Ha, ha! and did not you draw?

Mar. Draw, sir! why, I did but lay my hand upon my sword to make a swift retreat, and he roar'd out, Now the deel ha ma saul, sir, gin ye touch yer steel I'se whip mine through yer wem. Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha!

Cha. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Safe was the word. So you walk'd off, I suppose.

Mar. Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my friends, you know

Sir Geo. Your friends are much obliged to you, sir: I hope you'll rank me in that number.

Mar. Sir George, a bow from the side box, or to be seen in your chariot, binds me ever yours. Sir Geo. Trifles; you may command 'em when you please.

Cha. Provided he may command you.

Mar. Me! Why I live for no other purpose -Sir George, I have the honour to be caress'd by most of the reigning toasts of the town: I'll tell 'em you are the finest gentleman

Sir Geo. No, no, pr'ythee let me alone to tell the ladies my parts-Can you convey a letter upon occasion, or deliver a message with an air of business, ha?

Mar. With the assurance of a page and the gravity of a statesman.

Sir Geo. You know Miranda.

Mar. What! my sister ward? why, her guar

dian is mine; we are fellow-sufferers. Ah, he is. a covetous, cheating, sanctified curmudgeon: that Sir Francis Gripe is a damn'd old-hypo

critical

Cha. Hold, hold; I suppose, friend, you forget that he is my father.

Mar. 'Egad, and so I did, Charles—I ask your pardon, Charles, but it is for your sake I hate him. Well, I say the world is mistaken in him; his outside piety makes him every man's executor, and his inside cunning makes him every heir's gaoler. 'Egad, Charles, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some ward too, and never of his gettingfor never were two things so unlike as you and your father; he scrapes up every thing, and thou spend'st every thing; every body is indebted to him, and thou art indebted to every body.

Cha. You are very free, Mr Marplot. Mar. Ay, I give and take, Charles-you may be as free with me you know.

Sir Geo. A pleasant fellow.

Cha. The dog is diverting sometimes, or there would be no enduring his impertinence. He is pressing to be employed, and willing to execute; but some ill fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftener spoils an intrigue than helps it.

Mar. I have always your good word, but if I miscarry 'tis none of my fault; I follow my instructions.

Cha. Yes, witness the merchant's wife. Mar. Pish, pox! that was an accident. Sir Geo. What was it, pr'ythee? Mar. Nay, Charles, now don't expose your friend.

Cha. Why, you must know I had lent a certain merchant my hunting horses, and was to have met his wife in his absence. Sending him along with my groom to make the compliment, and to deliver a letter to the lady at the same time, what does he do but gives the husband the letter, and offers her the horses!

Mar. Why, to be sure, I did offer her the horses, and I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the letter to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my bones paid for.

Cha. Come, Sir George, let's walk round, if you are not engag'd, for I have sent my man upon a little earnest business, and I have ordered him to bring me the answer into the Park.

Mar. Business! and I not know it! Egad, I'll watch him.

Sir Geo. I must beg your pardon, Charles, I am to meet your father.

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Mar. Charles knows I love a glass as well a any man; I'll make one; shall it be to-night Adad, I long to know their secrets. [Asid

Enter WHISPER.

Whisp. Sir, sir, Mrs Patch says Isabinda's Spa nish father has quite spoil'd the plot, and sh cann't meet you in the Park, but he infallibly will go out this afternoon she says: but I mus step again to know the hour.

Mar. What did Whisper say now! I shall go stark mad if I'm not let into the secret. [Aside. Cha. Curst misfortune!

Mar. Curst! what's curst, Charles?

Cha. Come along with me, my heart feels pleasure at her name. Sir George, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual hour.

Sir Geo. Agreed. I think I see Sir Francis [Exit.

yonder.

Cha. Marplot, you must excuse me; I am en

gag'd.

[Exit.

[Erit.

Let the chair George said

Mar. Engag'd! Egad, I'll engage my life I'll know what your engagement is. Mir. [Coming out of a chair.] My servant that dogg'd Sir

wait.

he was in the Park.

Enter PATCH.

Ha! Miss Patch alone! did not you tell me you had contrived a way to bring Isabinda to the Park?

Patch. Oh, madam, your ladyship cann't imagine what a wretched disappointment we have met with! Just as I had fetch'd a suit of my clothes for a disguise, comes my old master into the closet, which is right against her chamber-door: this struck us into a terrible fright—at length I put on a grave face, and ask'd him if he was at leisure for his chocolate? in hopes to draw him out of his hole; but he snapp'd my nose off: No, I shall be busy here these two hours. At which my poor mistress seeing no way of escape, ordered me to wait on your ladyship with the sad relation.

Mir. Unhappy Isabinda! was ever any thing so unaccountable as the humour of Sir Jealous Traffick?

Patch. Oh, madam, it's his living so long in Spain; he vows he'll spend half his estate, but he'll be a parliament-man, on purpose to bring in a bill for women to wear veils, and other odious Spanish customs-He swears it is the height of impudence to have a woman seen bare-fac'd even at church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten child in the city.

Mir. Ha, ha, ha! how the old fool torments himself! Suppose he could introduce his rigid rules-does he think we could not match them in contrivance? No, no; let the tyrant man make what laws he will, if there's a woman under the government, I warrant she finds a way to break Is his mind set upon the Spaniard for his son-in-law still? Patch. Ay, and he expects him by the next

em.

fleet, which drives his daughter to melancholy | and despair. But, madam, I find you retain the same gay cheerful spirit you had when I waited on your ladyship.-My lady is mighty good humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir Jealous believe I am wholly in his interest, when my real design is to serve her; he makes me her gaoler, and I set her at liberty.

Mir. I knew thy prolific brain would be of singular service to her, or I had not parted with thee to her father.

Patch. But, madam, the report is that you are going to marry your guardian.

Mir. It is necessary such a report should be, Patch.

Patch. But is it true, madam?

Mir. That's not absolutely necessary.

Patch. I thought it was only the old strain, coaxing him still for your own, and railing at all the young fellows about town: in my mind, now, you are as ill plagu'd with your guardian, madam, as my lady is with her father.

Mir. No, I have liberty, wench; that she wants: what would she give now to be in this dishabille in the open air, nay, more, in pursuit of the young fellow she likes? for that's my case I assure you.

experience, thou wilt never be wise; therefore, give me a hundred, and try thy fortune.

Sir Geo. The scruples arose, I find, from the scanty sum.- -Let me see—a hundred guineas [Tukes 'em out of a purse and chinks'em.] Ha! they have a pretty sound, and a very pleasing look-But then, Miranda-but if she should be cruel

Mir. [Peeping.] As ten to one I shall

Sir Fran. Ay, do consider on't. He, he, he!
Sir Geo. No, I'll do't.

Patch. Do't! what, whether you will or no, madam!

Sir Geo. Come, to the point; here's the gold; sum up the conditions.

[Sir FRANCIS pulling out a puper.]
Mir. [Peeping.] Ay, for Heaven's sake do, for
my expectation is on the rack.

Sir Fran. Well, at your peril be it.
Sir Geo. Ay, ay, go on.

Sir Fran. Imprimis, you are to be admitted into my house, in order to move your suit to Miranda, for the space of ten minutes, without let or molestation, provided I remain in the same room. Sir Geo. But out of ear-shot.

Sir Fran. Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say; ha, ha, ha! in consideration I am to have that purse and a hundred guineas. Sir Geo. Take it- [Gives him the purse. Mir. [Peeping.] So, 'tis well it's no worse; I'll fit you both

Patch. As for that, madam, she's even with you; for tho' she cann't come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spite of old Argus. Mir. Now, Patch, your opinion of my choice, for here he comes.-Ha! my guardian with him! what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sired Francis cann't know me in this dress.-Let's observe 'em. [They withdraw. Enter Sir FRANCIS GRIPE and Sir GEORGE AIRY.

Sir Fran. Verily, Sir George, thou wilt repent throwing away thy money so, for I tell thee sincerely, Miranda, my charge, does not like a young fellow; they are all vicious, and seldom make good husbands: in sober sadness she cannot abide 'em.

Mir. Peeping.] In sober sadness you are mistaken. What can this mean?

Sir Geo. Look ye, Sir Francis, whether she can or cannot abide young fellows is not the business. Will you take the fifty guineas?

Sir Fran. In good truth I will not-for I knew thy father, he was a hearty wary man, and I cannot consent that his son should squander away what be sav'd to no purpose.

Mr. [Peeping.] Now, in the name of wonder, what bargain can he be driving about me for fifty guineas?

Patch. I wish it ben't for the first night's lodging, madam.

Sir Geo. Well, Sir Francis, since you are so Conscientious for my father's sake, then permit me the favour gratis.

Mir. [Peeping.] The favour! O' my life, I believe 'tis as you said, Patch.

Sir Fran. No, verily; if thou dost not buy thy

Sir Geo. And this agreement is to be performto-day.

Sir Fran. Ay, ay; the sooner the better. Poor fool! how Miranda and I shall laugh at him!— Well, Sir George, ha, ha, ha! take the last sound of your guineas, ha, ha, ha! [Chinks 'em.] [ Exit. Mir. [Peeping.] Sure he does not know I am Miranda.

Sir Geo. A very extraordinary bargain I have made, truly; if she should be really in love with this old cuff now- -Psha! that's morally impossible.--But then, what hopes have I to suc ceed? I never spoke to her

Mir. [Peeping.] Say you so? then I am safe. Sir Geo. What tho' my tongue never spoke? my eyes said a thousand things, and my hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm luckyif not, it is but a hundred guineas thrown away. [MIRANDA and PATCH come forward. Mir. Upon what, Sir George? Sir Geo. Ha! my incognita-upon a woman, madam.

Mir. They are the worst things you can deal in, and damage the soonest; your very breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your return, Sir George, ha, ha!

Sir Geo. Were they more brittle than china, and dropped to pieces with a touch, every atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but mistress of thy wit, balances ten times the sum.-Pry'thee, let me see thy face.

Mir. By no means; that may spoil your opinion of my sense―

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