ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Enter JENNY.

Ang. Well, have you been there?-Come hither. Jenny. Yes, madam; sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. [Apart to Angelica. Val. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty? Ang. Would any thing but a madman complain of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing; and the overtak ing and possessing of a wish, discovers the folly of the chase. Never let us know one another better; for the pleasure of a masquerade is done, when we come to show our faces. But I'll tell you two things before I leave you; I am not the fool you take me for; and you are mad, and don't know it.

[Exeunt Angelica and Jenny. Val. From a riddle you can expect nothing but a riddle. There's my instruction, and the moral of my lesson.

Jer. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope you understood one another before she went?

Val. Understood! she is harder to be understood than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or an Irish manuscript; you may pore till you spoil your eyes, and not improve your knowledge.

Jer. I have heard them say, sir, they read hard Hebrew books backwards. May be you begin to read at the wrong end!

Val. Yet while she does not seem to hate me, I will pursue her, and know her, if it be possible, in spite of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says,

That women are like tricks by slight of hand;
Which, to admire, we should not understand.

[Exeunt.

[graphic]

SCENE I. A Room in FORESIGHT'S House.
Enter ANGELICA ond JENNY.

Ang. Where is sir Sampson? Did you not tell me he would be here before me?

Jenny. He's at the great glass in the drawing-room, madam, setting his cravat and wig.

Ang. How! I'm glad on't.-If he has a mind I should like him, it's a sign he likes me; and that's more than half my design.

Jenny. I hear him, madam.

Ang. Leave me; and, d'ye hear, if Valentine should come, or send, I am not to be spoken with. [Exit Jenny. Enter SIR SAMPSON LEGEND.

Sir S. I have not been honoured with the commands of a fair lady a great while.-Odd, madam, you have revived me-not since I was five-and-thirty.

Ang. Why, you have no great reason to complain, sir Sampson; that's not long ago.

Sir S. Zooks, but it is, madam, a very great while; to a man that admires a fine woman as much as I do. Ang. You're an absolute courtier, sir Sampson.

Sir S. Not at all, madam. Odsbad, you wrong me: I am not so old neither, to be a bare courtier, only a

man of words. Odd, I have warm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way.-Come, come, let me tell you, you women think a man old too soon, faith and troth you do. Come, don't despise fifty;-odd, fifty, in a hale constitution, is no such contemptible age!

Ang. Fifty a contemptible age! not at all: a very fashionable age 1 think-I assure you, I know very considerable beaux, that set a good face upon fifty. Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side-box, by candle-light, out-blossom five-and-twenty.

Sir S. Outsides, outsides, a pize take them, mere oulsides. Hang your side-box beaux; no, l'in none of those, none of your forced trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall, and bud when they should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-lived race, and inherit vigour. None of my ancestors married till fifty; yet they begot sous and daughters till fourscore. I am of your patriarchs, I, a branch of one of your antediluvian families, fellows that the flood could not wash away. Well, madam, what are your commands? Has any young rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat? or

Ang. No, sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upon my hands I have more occasion for your conduct than your courage at this time. To tell you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a husband.

Sir S. Odsbud, and it is pity you should!- -Odd, would she would like me! then I should hamper my young rogues-odd, would she would! faith and troth, she's devilish handsome! [Aside] Madam, you deserve a good husband! and 'twere pity you should be thrown away upon any of these young, idle rogues about the town. Odd, there's ne'er a young fellow worth hanging-that is, a very young fellow.

Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, sir Sampson. I have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can like; if there were such a thing as a young, agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of good nature and sense; for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool.

Sir S. Odd, you are hard to please, madam: to find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task. But,

faith and troth, you speak very discreetly. I hate a wit; I had a son that was spoil'd among them; a good, hopeful lad, till he learn'd to be a wit-and might have risen in the state. But a plague on't, his wit ran him out of his money, and how his poverty has run him out of his wits.

Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell yon, you are very much abused in that matter-be's no more mad than you are.

Sir S. How, madam! 'would I could prove it!

Ang. I can tell you how that may be done; but it is a thing that would make me appear to be too much concerned in your affairs.

Sir S. Odsbud, I believe she likes me! [Aside] Ah, madam, if I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the eastern empire under my feet, it would make me only a more glorious victim, to be offered at the shrine of your beauty.

Ang. Bless me, sir Sampson, what's the matter?

Sir S. Odd, madam, I love you—and if you would take my advice in a husband

Ang. Hold, hold, sir Sampson, I asked your advice for a husband, and you are giving me your consent.-I was indeed thinking to propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine: for if a match were seemingly carried on between you and me, it would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness, in apprehension of losing me; for, you know, he has long pretended a passion for me.

Sir S. Gadzooks, a most ingenious contrivance-if we were to go through with it! But why must the match only be seemingly carried on?-Odd, let it be a real contract. Ang. O fie, sir Sampson! what would the world say? Sir S. Say? They would say you were a wise woman, and I a happy man. Odd, madam, I'll love you as long as I live, and leave you a good jointure when I die.

Ang. Ay, but that is not in your power, sir Sampson; for when Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he must make over his inheritance to his younger brother.

Sir S. Odd, you're cunning; a wary baggage. Faith and troth, I like you the better. But I warrant you I

have a proviso in the obligation in favour of myself.Odsbud, let us find children, and I'll find an estate! Ang. Will you?-Well, do you find an estate, and leave the other to me.

Sir S. O rogue! but I'll trust you. And will you consent? Is it a match then?

Ang. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this obligation; and if I find what you propose practicable, I'll give you my answer.

Sir S. With all my heart. Come in with me, and I'll lend you the bond.-You shall consult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson.-Odso, I hear somebody coming. [Exeunt.

Enter TATTLE and JEREMY. Tat. Is not that she, gone out just now?

Jer. Ay, sir, she's just going to the place of appoint

ment.

Tat. I hope you are secret?

Jer. O, sir, for that, sir, 'tis my chief talent; I'm as secret as the head of Nilus.

Tut. Ay, who's he though? A privy-counsellor?

Jer. O, ignorance! [Aside] A cunning Egyptian, sir, that with his arms could over-run the country, yet nobody could ever find out his head-quarters.

Tat. Close dog, I warrant him!-The time draws nigh, Jeremy. Angelica will be veiled like a nun, and I must be hooded like a friar, ha, Jeremy?

Jer. Ay, sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a happy change she has made, between a madman and so accomplished a gentleman.

Tat. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy: you're a good friend to her, poor creature!-I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as compassion to her. Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, sir, to save a fine woman, with thirty thousand pounds, from throwing herself away.

Tat. So 'tis, faith!-I might have saved several others

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »