Dor. The pleasantest fellow, sister, I ever saw. -But, friend, if your master be married, I presume you still serve a lady? Arch. No, Madam, I take care never to come into a married family; the commands of the master and mistress are always so contrary, that tis impossible to please both." Dor. There's a main point gained. My lord is not married, I find. [Aside. Mrs. S. But, I wonder, friend, that in so many good services, you had not a better provision made for you? Arch. I don't know, how, Madam-I am very well as I am. Mrs. S. Something for a pair of gloves. [Offers money. Sul. Do you talk to any purpose? Mrs. S. Do you think to any purpose? Sul. Sister, harkye-[Whispers.] I sha'n't be home till it be late. [Erit Mrs. S. What did he whisper to you? Dor. That he would go round the back way, come into the closet, and listen, as I directed him. But let me beg you once more, dear sister, to drop this project; for, as I told you before, instead of awaking him to kindness, you may provoke him to rage: and then who knows how far his brutality may carry him? Mrs. S. I'm provided to receive him, I warrant you; away! [Exeunt. ACT IV. House. Arch. I humbly beg leave to be excused. My SCENE I-A Galiery in LADY BOUNTIFUL'S master, Madam, pays me; nor dare I take money from any other hand, without injuring his honour and disobeying his commands. Scrub. Brother Martin! brother Martin! [Exeunt ARCHER and SCRUB. Dor. This is surprising. Did you ever see so pretty a well-bred fellow? Mrs. S. The devil take him for wearing that livery. Dor. I fancy, sister, he may be some gentleman, a friend of my lord's, that his lordship has pitched upon for his courage, fidelity, and discretion, to bear him company in this dress, and who, ten to one, was his second. Mrs. S. It is so, it must be so, it shall be so— For I like him. Dor. What! better than the count? Mrs. S. The count happened to be the most agreeable man in the place; and so I chose him to serve me in my design upon my husband. But I should like this fellow better in a design upon my self. Dor. But now, sister, for an interview with this lord and this gentleman; how shall we bring that about? Sul. What singing was that I heard just now? Mrs. S. The singing in your head, my dear; you complained of it all day. Sul. You're impertinent. Mrs. S. I was ever so, since I became one flesh with you. Sul. One flesh rather two carcasses joined unnaturally together. Mrs. S. Or rather a living soul coupled to a dead body. Dor. So, this is fine encouragement for me! Sul. Yes, my wife shows you what you must do! Mrs. S. And my husband shows you what you must suffer. Sul. 'Sdeath, why can't you be silent? Enter LADY BOUNTIFUL and MRS. SULLEN, Dor. News, dear sister, news, news! Arch. Where, where is my Lady Bountiful? Arch. O, Madam, the fame of your lady. ship's charity, goodness, benevolence, skill, and ability, have drawn me hither, to implore your ladyship's help in behalf of my unfortunate master, who is at this moment breathing his last, Lady B. Your master! where is he? Arch. At your gate, Madam: drawn by the appearance of your handsome house, to view it nearer, and walking up the avenue, within five paces of the court-yard, he was taken ill of a sudden, with a sort of I know not what; but down he fell, and there he lies. Lady B. Here, Scrub, Gipsey! Enter SCRUB and GIPSEY. All run, get my easy-chair down stairs, put the gentleman in it, and bring him in quickly, quickly. Arch. Heaven will reward your ladyship for this charitable act. Lady B. Is your master used to these fits? Arch. O yes, Madam, frequently. I have known him have five or six of a night. Lady B. What's his name? Arch. Lord, Madam, he's dying: a minute's care or neglect may save or destroy his life. Lady B. Ah, poor gentleman! come, friend, show me the way; I'll see him brought in myself. (Exit ARCH. Dor. O, sister, my heart flutters about strangely; I can hardly forbear running to his assistance. Mrs. S. And I'll lay my life he deserves your assistance more than he wants it: did not I tell you that my lord would find a way to come at you? Love's his distemper, and you must be the physician: put on all your charms, summon all your fire into your eyes, plant the whole artillery of your looks against his breast, and down with him. Dor. O, sister, I'm but a young gunner, I shall be afraid to shoot for fear the piece should recoil, and hurt myself. Mrs. S. Never fear, you shall see me shoot before you, if you will. Dor. No, no, dear sister, you have missed your mark so unfortunately, that I sha'n't care for being instructed by you. Enter AIMWELL, in a chair, carried by ARCHER | the trees, just by this good lady's house; her lady and SCRUB, LADY BOUNTIFUL, and GIPSEY. ship had you taken in, and has miraculously AIMWELL counterfeiting a swoon. brought you to yourself, as you see Lady B. Here, here, let's see-the hartshorn drops-Gipsey, a glass of fair water; his fit 's very strong. Bless me, how his hands are clenched! Arch. For shame, ladies, what d'ye do? why don't you help us? Pray, Madam, [To DOR.] take his hand, and open it, if you can, whilst [DORINDA takes his hand. Dor. Poor gentleman!-Oh-he has got my hand within his, and squeezes it unmercifully.Lady B. 'Tis the violence of his convulsions, child. hold his head." Arch. Oh, Madam, he 's perfectly possessed in these cases-he'll bite you, if you don't have a care. Dor. O, my hand, my hand! Lady B. What's the matter with the foolish girl! I have got this hand open you see with a great deal of ease. Arch. Ay, but, Madam, your daughter's hand is somewhat warmer than your ladyship's, and the heat of it draws the force of the spirits that way. Mrs. S. I find, friend, you are very learned in these sort of fits. Arch. 'Tis no wonder, Madam, for I'm often troubled with them myself; I find myself extremely ill at this minute. [Looking hard at MRS. SULLEN. Mrs. S. [Aside.] I fancy I could find a way to cure you. Lady B. His fit holds him very long. Arch. Longer than usual, Madam Aim. I am so confounded with shame, Madam, that I can only now beg pardon-and refer my acknowledgments for your ladyship's care till an opportunity offers of making some amends--I dare be no longer troublesome-Martin, give two guineas to the servants. [Going. Dor. Sir, you may catch cold by going so soon into the air; you don't look, Sir, as if you were perfectly recovered. [ARCH. talks to LADY B. in dumb show. Aim. That I shall never be, Madam; my present illness is so rooted, that I must expect to carry it to my grave. Lady B. Come, Sir, your servant has been telling me that you are apt to relapse, if you go into the air-your good manners sha'n't get the better of ours-you shall sit down again, Sir:come, Sir, we don't mind ceremonies in the country.-Here, Gipsey, bring the cordial water.Here, Sir, my service t'ye-you shall taste my water; 'Tis a cordial, I can assure you, and of my own making. Scrub. Yes, my lady makes very good water. Lady B. Drink it off, Sir. [AIMWELL drinks] And how d'ye find yourself now, Sir? Aim. Somewhat better-though very faint still. these fits. Come, girls, you shall show the genLady B. Ay, ay, people are always faint after tleman the house; 'tis but an old family building, Sir; but you had better walk about, and cool by Lady B. Where did his illness take him first, degrees, than venture immediately into the air. pray? Arch. To day at church, Madam. Lady B. In what manner was he taken? Arch. Very strangely, my lady. He was of a sudden touched with something in his eyes, which at the first he only felt, but could not tell whether 'twas pain or pleasure. Lady B. Wind, nothing but the wind.-Your master should never go without a bottle to smell to-Oh! he recovers-the lavender water-some feathers to burn under his nose-Hungary water, to rub his temples-Oh, he comes to himself. Hem a little, Sir, hem-Gipsey, bring the cordial water. [AIMWELL seems to awake in amaze. Dor. How do you, Sir? Aim. Where am I? Sure I have pass'd the gulph of silent death, And now am landed on the Elysian shore. Behold the goddess of those happy plains, Fair Proserpine-let me adore thy bright divi nity. [Rising [Kneels to DORINDA, and kisses her hand. Mrs. S. So, so, so; I knew where the fit would end. Aim. Eurydice, perhaps How could thy Orpheus keep his word, And not look back on thee? You'll find some tolerable pictures. Dorinda, show the gentleman the way. I must go to the poor woman below. Dor. This way, Sir. [Erit. Aim. Ladies, shall I beg leave for my servant to wait on you? for he understands pictures very well. Mrs. S. Sir, we understand originals, as well as he does pictures; so he may come along. [Exit DoR. and AIM.; MRS. S. and ARCH. Enter FOIGARD. Foig. Shave you, master Scrub. -I Scrub. Sir, I wont be saved your wayhate a priest, I abhor the French, and I defy the devil.-Sir, I'm a bold Briton, and will spill the last drop of my blood to keep out popery and slavery. Foig. Master Scrub, you would put me down in politics, and so I would be spaiking with Mrs. Gipsey. Scrub. Good Mr. Priest, you can't speak with her; she's sick, Sir; she's gone abroad, Sir; she's-dead two months ago, Sir. Enter GIPSEY. Gip. How now, impudence! How dare you talk so saucily to the doctor? Pray, Sir, don't No treasure but thyself could sure have brib'd him take it ill; for the common people of England are To look one minute off thee. Lady B. Delirious, poor gentleman. Arch. Yes, my lord.-How does your lordship? Arch. In very good hands, Sir. You were Laken just now with one of your old fits, under not so civil to strangers, as Scrub. You lie, you lie :-'tis the common people, such as you are, that are civilest to strangers. Gip. Sirrah, I have a great mind to get you out, I say. Scrub. I wont. Gip. You wont, saucebox!-Pray, doctor, what is the captain's name that came to your inr last night? Scrub. The captain! ah, the devil! there she hampers me again; the captain has me on one side, and the priest on t'other;-so between the gown and the sword I have a fine time on 't. Gip. What, sirrah, wont you march? Scrub. No, my dear, I wont march-but I'll walk-and I'll make bold to listen a little too. [Goes behind the side scene, and listens. Gip. Indeed, doctor, the count has been barbarously treated, that's the truth on 't. Foig. Ah, Mrs. Gipsey, upon my shoul, now gra, his complainings would mollify the marrow in your bones, and move the bowels of your commiseration; he veeps, and he dances, and he fistles, and he swears, and he laughs, and he stamps, and he sings: in conclusion, joy, he's afflicted a la Françoise, and a stranger would not know whider to cry or to laugh with him. Gib. What would you have me do, doctor? Foig. Nothing, joy, but only to hide the count| in Mrs. Sullen's closet, when it is dark. Gip. Nothing is that nothing? it would be both a sin and a shame, doctor. Foig. Here is twenty Louis d'ors, joy, for your shane; and I will give you an absolution for the shin. Gip. But wont that money look like a bribe? Foig. Dat is according as you shall take it-if you receive the money beforehand, 'twill be logice, a bribe; but if you stay till afterwards, 'twill be only a gratification. Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logice-But what must I do with my conscience, Sir? Foig. Leave dat wid me, joy; I am your priest, gra; and your conscience is under my hands. Gip. But should I put the count into the closetFoig. Vell, is dere any shin for a man's being in a closhet? one may go to prayers in a closhet. Gip. But if the lady should come into her chamber and go to bed? Foig. Vell, and is dere any shin in going to bed, joy? Gip. Ah, but if the parties should meet, doctor? Foig. Vell den-the parties must be responsible.-Do you be gone after putting the count in the closhet; and leave the shins wid themselvesI will come with the count to instruct you in your chamber. Gip. Well, doctor, your religion is so pure, that I'm resolved to die a martyr to 't.-Here's the key of the garden door; come in the back way, when 'tis late-I'll be ready to receive you; but don't so much as whisper, only take hold of my hand; I'll lead you, and do you lead the count, and follow me. [Exeunt. Enter SCRUB. Scrub. What witchcraft now have these two imps of the devil been a-hatching here?—There's twenty Louis d'ors! I heard that, and saw the purse: but I must give room to my betters. [Exit. SCENE II-A Picture Gallery. Enter AIMWELL, leading DORINDA, and making love in dumb show; MRS. SULLEN and ARCHER. Mrs. S. Pray, Sir, [To ARCH.] how d'ye like that piece? Arch. O, 'tis Leda-you find, Madam, how Jupiter came disguised to make love Mrs. S. Pray, Sir, what head is that in the corner there? Arch. O, Madam, 'tis poor Ovid in his exile. Mrs. S. What was he banished for? Arch. His ambitious love, Madam. [Bowing.] His misfortune touches me. Mrs. S. Was he successful in his amours? Arch. There he has left us in the dark.-He was too much a gentleman to tell. Mrs. S. If he were secret, I pity him. Arch. And if he were successful, I envy him. Mrs. S. How d'ye like that Venus over the chimney? Arch. Venus! I protest, Madam, I took it for your picture: but now I look again, 'tis not handsome enough. Mrs. S. Oh, what a charm is flattery! if you would see my picture, there it is, over that carinet-how d'ye like it? Arch. I must admire any thing, Madam, that has the least resemblance of you.-But, methinks, Madam-[He looks at the picture and MRS. SULLEN three or four times, by turns.] Pray, Madam, who drew it? Mrs. S. A famous hand, Sir. [Ex. AIM. and DoR. Arch. A famous hand, Madam! Your eyes, indeed, are featured there; but where's the sparkling moisture and shining fluid, in which they swim? The picture, indeed, has your dimples, but where's the swarm of killing Cupids that should ambush there? These lips too are figured out; but where's the carnation dew, the pouting ripeness, that tempts the taste in the original? Mrs. S. Had it been my lot to have matched with such a man! [Aside. Arch. Your neck too, presumptuous man' what! paint heaven!-A-propos, Madam, in the very next picture is Salmoneus, that was struck dead with lightning for offering to imitate Jove's thunder; I hope you served the painter so, Madam. Mrs. S. Had my eyes the power of thunder, they should employ their lightning better. Arch. There's the finest bed in that room, Madam; I suppose 'tis your ladyship's bedchamber? Mrs. S. And what then, Sir? Arch. I think the quilt is the richest that ever I saw-I can't, at this distance, Madam, distinguish the figures of the embroidery: will you give me leave, Madam? Mrs. S. The devil take his impudence-Sure, if I give him an opportunity, he durst not be rude, I have a great mind to try. [Going-returns.] 'Sdeath! what am I doing!-And alone too!Sister, sister! [Exit. Arch. I'll follow her closeFor where a Frenchman durst attempt to storm, A Briton, sure, may well the work perform. Enter SCRUB. [Going. Scrub. Martin ! brother Martin ! Arch. O brother Scrub, I beg your pardor, I was not a-going: here's a guinea my master ordered you. Scrub. A guinea! hi, hi, hi, a guinea! ch- by this light it is a guinea; but I suppose you expect one and twenty shillings in change. Arch. Not at all; I have another for Gipsey. Scrub. A guinea for her! Fire and Faggot for the witch-Sir, give me that guinea, and I'll discover a plot. Arch. A plot! Scrub. Ay, Sir, a plot, a horrid plot.-First, it must be a plot, because there's a woman in't. secondly, it must be a plot, because there's a priest in 't: thirdly, it must be a plot, because there's French gold in 't: and, fourthly, it must be a plot, because I don't know what to make on 't. Arch. Nor any body else, I'm afraid, brother Scrub. Serub. Truly, I'm afraid so too; for where there's a priest and a woman, there's always a mystery and a riddle.-This I know, that here has been the doctor with a temptation in one hand, and an absolution in the other, and Gipsey has sold herself to the devil; I saw the price paid down, my eyes shall take their oath on't. Arch. And is all this bustle about Gipsey? Serub. That's not all; I could hear but a word here and there; but I remember they mentioned a count, a closet, a back door, and a key. Arch. The count! did you hear nothing of Mrs. Sullen? Scrub. I did hear some words that sounded that way; but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda, I could not distinguish. Arch. You have told this matter to nobody, brother? Scrub. Told! no, Sir, I thank you for that; I'm resolved never to speak one word, pro nor con, till we have a peace. Arch. You are i' th' right, brother Scrub; here's a treaty a-foot between the count and the lady. The priest and the chambermaid are plenipotentiaries. It shall go hard, but I'll find a way to be included in the treaty. Where's the doctor now? Scrub. He and Gipsey are this moment devouring my lady's marmalade in the closet. Aim. [From without.] Martin, Martin! Scrub. But you forget the other guinea, brother Martin. Arch. Here I give it with all my heart. [Erit. Enter MRS. SULLEN and DORINDA, meeting. Mrs. S. What's become of my lord? Mrs. S. O' my conscience I could, provided I could put a friend of yours in his room. Dor. You desired me, sister, to leave you, when you transgressed the bounds of honour. bread-but I'll lay you a guinea that I had finer things said to me than you had. Dor. Done-What did your fellow say to you? Mrs. S. My fellow took the picture of Venus for mine. Dor. But my lover took me for Venus herself. Mrs. S. Common cant! had my spark called me a Venus directly, I should have believed him a footman in good earnest. Dor. But my lover was upon his knees to me. Mrs. S. Mine swore to die with me. Mrs. S. O lard! d'ye call that a moving thing? Dor. The sharpest arrow in his quiver, my dear sister:-Why, my twenty thousand pounds may lie brooding here these seven years, and hatch nothing at last but some ill-natured clown, like yours: whereas, if I marry my Lord Aimwell, there will be title, place, and precedence; the park, the play, and the drawing-room; splendour, equipage, noise, and flambeaux-Hey, my Lady Aimwell's servants there-lights, lights, to the stairs-my Lady Aimwell's coach, put forwardstand by; make room for her ladyshipAre not these things moving? What! melancholy of a sudden? Mrs. S. Happy, happy sister! your angel has been watchful for your happiness, whilst mine has slept, regardless of his charge-Long smiling years of circling joys for you, but not one hour for me! [Weeps: Dor. Come, my dear, we'll talk of something else. Mrs. S. O, Dorinda, I own myself a woman, full of my sex, a gentle, generous soul-easy and yielding to soft desires: a spacious heart, where love and all his train might lodge: and must the fair apartment of my breast be made a stable for a brute to lie in? Dor. Meaning your husband, I suppose. Mrs. S. Husband!-No-even husband is too soft a name for him-But, come, I expect my brother here to-night or to-morrow; he was abroad when my father married me: perhaps he'll find a way to make me easy. Dor. Will you promise not to make yourself uneasy in the mean time with my lord's friend? Mrs. S. You mistake me, sister-It happens with us, as among the men, the greatest talkers are the greatest cowards; and there's a reason for it; those spirits evaporate in prattle, which might do more mischief if they took another girl-course- -Though, to confess the truth, I do love that fellow; and if I met him dressed as he should be, and I undressed as I should beLookye, sister, I have no supernatural gifts;—I can't swear I could resist the temptation-though I can safely promise to avoid it; and that's as much as the best of us can do. [Exeunt. Mrs. S. Thou dear, censorious, country What dost mean? You can't think of the man without the bed-fellow, I find. Dor. I don't find any thing unnatural in that thought. Mrs. S. How a little love and conversation improve a woman? Why, child, you begin to live -you never spoke before. Dor. Because I was never spoke to before; my lord has told me, that I have more wit and beauty than any of my sex; and truly I begin to think the man is sincere. Mrs. S. You are in the right, Dorinda; pride is the life of a woman, and flattery is our daily Arch. Nay, if you adhere to those principles, stop where you are. Aim. I can't stop; for I love her to distraction. Arch. 'Sdeath, if you love her a hair's breadth beyond discretion, you must go no farther. Aim. Well, well, any thing to deliver us from sauntering away our idle evenings at White's, Tom's, or Will's-but now Arch. Ay, now is the time to prevent all thisStrike while the iron is hot-The priest is the luckiest part of our adventure; he shall marry you and pimp for me. Aim. But I should not like a woman that can be so fond of a Frenchman. Arch. Alas, Sir, necessity has no law; the lady may be in distress. But if the plot lies as I suspect-I must put on the gentleman. But here comes the doctor; I shall be ready. [Exit. Enter FOIGARD. Foig. Shave you, noble friend. Aim. O, Sir, your servant. Pray, doctor, may I crave your name? Foig Fat naam is upon me? My name is Foigard, joy. Aim. Foigard! a very good for a clergyman. Pray, Doctor Foigard, were you ever in Ireland? Foig. Ireland! No, joy. Fat sort of a plaace is dat shame Ireland? Dey say de people are catched dere when they are young. Aim. And some of them here when they are old,-a -as for example-[Takes FOIGARD by the shoulder.] Sir, I arrest you as a traitor against government; you are a subject of England, and this morning showed me a commission, by which you served as chaplain in the French army. This is death by our law, and your reverence must hang for it. Foig. Upon my shoul, noble friend, dis is strange news you tell ne; fader Foigard a subject of England! de son of a burgomaster at Brussels a subject of England! Ubooboo Aim. The son of a bog-trotter in Ireland. Sir, your tongue will condemn you before any bench in the kingdom. Foig. And is my tongue all your evidensh, joy? Aim. That's enough. Foig. No, no, joy, for I will never spaak English no more. Aim. Sir, I have other evidence. Here, Martin, you know this fellow. Enter ARCHER. Arch. [In a brogue.] Shave you, my dear cussen, how does your health? Foig. Ah! upon my soul, dere is my countryman, and his brogue will hang mine. [Aside.] Mynhere, Ick wet neal watt hey zacht, ich Universton ewe neet, sacramant. Aim. Altering your language wont do, Sir; this fellow knows your person, and will swear to your face. Foig. Faash! Fey, is der de broguo upon my faash, too? Arch. Upon my salvation dere is, joy.-But, cussen Mackshane, vill you not put a remembrance upon me? Foig. Mackshane! by St. Patrick, dat ish my name sure enough. [Aside. Aim. I fancy, Archer, you have it. Foig. The devil hang you, joy-By fat acquaintance are you my cussen? Arch. O, de devil hang yourshelf, joy, you know we were little boys togeder upon de school, and your foster-moder's son was married upon my nurse's shister, joy, and so we are Irish cussens. Foig. De devil take de relationship! Vell, joy; and fat school was it? Arch. I think it was. -Ay-'twas Tipperary. Foig. Now, upon my shoul, joy, it was Kilkenny. Aim. That's enough for us-self-confessionCome, Sir, we must deliver you into the hands of the next magistrate. Arch. He sends you to gaol, you're tried next assizes, and away you go swing into purgatory. Foig. And is it so wid you, cussen? Arch. It will be so wid you, cussen, if you don't immediately confess the secret between you and Mrs. Gipsey. Lookye, Sir, the gallows or the secret, take your choice. Foig. The gallows! Upon my shoul I hate that shaame gallows, for it ish a disease dat is fatal to our family.-Vell, den, there is nothing, gentlemen, but Mrs. Sullen would speak wid the count in her chamber at midnight; and dere is no harm, joy, for I am to conduct the count to de plaash myself. Arch. As I guessed.-Have you communicated the matter to the count? Foig. I have not seen him since. Arch. Right again; why then, doctor-you shall conduct me to the lady instead of the count? Foig. Fat, my cussen to the lady! upon my shoul, gra, dat 's too much upon the brogue. Arch. Come, come, doctor, consider we have got a rope about your neck, and if you offer to squeak, we'll stop your windpipe, most certainly; we shall have another job for you in a day or two, I hope. Aim. Here's company coming this way; let's into my chamber, and there concert our affairs further. Arch. Come, my dear cussen, come along. Foig. Arrah, the devil take our relationship. [Exeunt. Enter BONIFACE, HOUNSLOW, and BAGSHOT, at one door, GIBBET at the opposite. Gib. Well, gentlemen, 'tis a fine night for our enterprise. Houn. Dark as hell. Bag. And blows like the devil: our landlord here has shown us the window where we must break in, and tells us the plate stands in the wainscot cupboard in the parlour. Bon. Ay, ay, Mr. Bagshot, as the saying is, knives and forks, cups and cans, tumblers and tankards-There's one tankard, as the saying is, that's near upon as big as me; it was a present to the 'squire from his godmother, and smells of nutmeg and toast, like an East India ship. Houn. Then you say we must divide at the stair-head. Bon. Yes, Mr. Hounslow, as the saying isAt one end of the gallery lies my Lady Bountiful and her daughter, and at the other Mrs. Sullen. -As for the 'squire Gib. He's safe enough; I have fairly entered him, and he's more than half seas over alreadyBut such a parcel of scoundrels are got about him there, that egad, I was ashamed to be seen in their company. |