ACT II.SCENE I.—LOVELESS’SLodgings.EnterLOVELESSandAMANDA.LOVELESS.How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are satisfied.AMANDA.I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, else I had not come to Scarborough at all.LOVELESS.Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement doubled when we return to it.AMANDA.That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much against my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which ’tis so much the fashion to be fond of.LOVELESS.I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there are delights of which a private life is destitute, which may divert an honest man, and be a harmless entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly (with some small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another.AMANDA.Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What do you think of that you saw last night?LOVELESS.To say truth, I did not mind it much—my attention was for some time taken off to admire the workmanship of Nature in the face of a young lady who sat at some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome.AMANDA.So exquisitely handsome!LOVELESS.Why do you repeat my words, my dear?AMANDA.Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their echo.LOVELESS.Then you are alarmed, Amanda?AMANDA.It is my duty to be so when you are in danger.LOVELESS.You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love.AMANDA.Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should have asked her where she lived—yet still without design—who was she, pray?LOVELESS.Indeed I cannot tell.AMANDA.You will not tell.LOVELESS.Upon my honour, then, I did not ask.AMANDA.Nor do you know what company was with her?LOVELESS.I do not. But why are you so earnest?AMANDA.I thought I had cause.LOVELESS.But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, and let it be your story: should you come home and tell me you had seen a handsome man, should I grow jealous because you had eyes?AMANDA.But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and that I had gazed on him with admiration, should you not think ’twere possible I might go one step further, and inquire his name?LOVELESS.[Aside.] She has reason on her side; I have talked too much; but I must turn off another way.—[Aloud.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty restrains your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what we think.EnterSERVANT.SERVANT.Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires to know whether your ladyship sees company; her name is Berinthia.AMANDA.Oh dear! ’tis a relation I have not seen these five years; pray her to walk in.—[ExitSERVANT.] Here’s another beauty for you; she was, when I saw her last, reckoned extremely handsome.LOVELESS.Don’t be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too.EnterBERINTHIA. Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [Aside.]BERINTHIA.[SalutesAMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet you in Scarborough.AMANDA.Sweet cousin, I’m overjoyed to see you.—Mr. Loveless, here’s a relation and a friend of mine, I desire you’ll be better acquainted with.LOVELESS.[SalutesBERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires a harder thing, madam, her request will be easily granted.Re-enterSERVANT.SERVANT.Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service to you, and desires to know how you do. He’s at the next door; and, if it be not inconvenient to you, he’ll come and wait upon you.LOVELESS.Give my compliments to his lordship, and I shall be glad to see him.—[ExitSERVANT.] If you are not acquainted with his lordship, madam, you will be entertained with his character.AMANDA.Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man whom nature has made no fool be so very industrious to pass for an ass.LOVELESS.No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never bestow your pity upon those who take pains for your contempt: pity those whom nature abuses, never those who abuse nature.EnterLORD FOPPINGTON.LORD FOPPINGTON.Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant.LOVELESS.My lord, I’m yours.LORD FOPPINGTON.Madam, your ladyship’s very obedient slave.LOVELESS.My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife’s.LORD FOPPINGTON.[SalutesBERINTHIA.] The beautifullest race of people upon earth, rat me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed that you think of continuing here: I am, stap my vitals!—[ToAMANDA.] For Gad’s sake, madam, how has your ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country life?AMANDA.My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has been a very quiet one.LORD FOPPINGTON.Why, that’s the fatigue I speak of, madam; for ’tis impossible to be quiet without thinking: now thinking is to me the greatest fatigue in the world.AMANDA.Does not your lordship love reading, then?LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of what I read. For example, madam, my life is a perpetual stream of pleasure, that glides through with such a variety of entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had the least conception of any of ’em. I rise, madam, when in town, about twelve o’clock. I don’t rise sooner, because it is the worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend to be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o’clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to take the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my boots by two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge perhaps to the opera.BERINTHIA.Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music?LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for then there is always the best company, and one is not expected to undergo the fatigue of listening.AMANDA.Does your lordship think that the case at the opera?LORD FOPPINGTON.Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin—these have boxes in the front, and while any favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the waurld, stap my vitals!—Mayn’t we hope for the honour to see you added to our society, madam?AMANDA.Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world at a concert, I’m so apt to attend to the music.LORD FOPPINGTON.Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the country or at church, but a monstrous inattention in a polite assembly. But I am afraid I tire the company?LOVELESS.Not at all. Pray go on.LORD FOPPINGTON.Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, that I generally conclude the evening at one or other of the clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have been for some time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting.LOVELESS.But isn’t your lordship sometimes obliged to attend the weighty affairs of the nation?LORD FOPPINGTON.Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to weighty heads; I never intend mine shall be a burden to my body.BERINTHIA.Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state.LORD FOPPINGTON.An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than undergo any part of the fatigue, rat me, but the whole building should fall plump to the ground!AMANDA.But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal of his time in his intrigues; you have given us no account of them yet.LORD FOPPINGTON.[Aside.] So! she would inquire into my amours—that’s jealousy, poor soul!—I see she’s in love with me.—[Aloud.] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a secret I must need tell your ladyship.—Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.LOVELESS.[LeadingBERINTHIAup the stage.] Not I, my lord; I am too fashionable a husband to pry into the secrets of my wife.LORD FOPPINGTON.[Aside toAMANDAsqueezing her hand.] I am in love with you to desperation, strike me speechless!AMANDA.[Strikes him on the ear.] Then thus I return your passion.—An impudent fool!LORD FOPPINGTON.God’s curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm!LOVELESS.[Hastily returning.] Hey! what the devil, do you affront my wife, sir? Nay, then—[Draws. They fight.]AMANDA.What has my folly done?—Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven’s sake.LORD FOPPINGTON.[Falls back and leans on his sword.] Ah! quite through the body, stap my vitals!EnterSERVANTS.LOVELESS.[Runs toLORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha’nt killed the fool, however. Bear him up.—Call a surgeon there.LORD FOPPINGTON.Ay, pray make haste. [ExitSERVANT.LOVELESS.This mischief you may thank yourself for.LORD FOPPINGTON.I may say so; love’s the devil indeed, Ned.Re-enterSERVANT,withPROBE.SERVANT.Here’s Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door.LORD FOPPINGTON.He’s the welcomest man alive.PROBE.Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon us, did you never see a man run through the body before?—Pray stand by.LORD FOPPINGTON.Ah, Mr. Probe, I’m a dead man.PROBE.A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, egad.LOVELESS.Pr’ythee don’t stand prating, but look upon his wound.PROBE.Why, what if I don’t look upon his wound this hour, sir?LOVELESS.Why, then he’ll bleed to death, sir.PROBE.Why, then I’ll fetch him to life again, sir.LOVELESS.’Slife! he’s run through the body, I tell thee.PROBE.I wish he was run through the heart, and I should get the more credit by his cure. Now I hope you are satisfied? Come, now let me come at him—now let me come at him.—[Viewing his wound.] Oops, what a gash is here! why, sir, a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body.LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh!PROBE.Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman through with—a scythe?—[Aside.] A little scratch between the skin and the ribs, that’s all.LOVELESS.Let me see his wound.PROBE.Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks upon it I won’t.LOVELESS.Why, thou art the veriest coxcomb I ever saw!PROBE.Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing.LORD FOPPINGTON.Surgeon!PROBE.Sir.LORD FOPPINGTON.Are there any hopes?PROBE.Hopes! I can’t tell. What are you willing to give for a cure?LORD FOPPINGTON.Five hundred paunds with pleasure.PROBE.Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must avoid further delay.—Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and carry him to my house presently—that’s the properest place—[Aside.] to bubble him out of his money.—[Aloud.] Come, a chair—a chair quickly—there, in with him.[SERVANTSputLORD FOPPINGTONinto a chair.]LORD FOPPINGTON.Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; and if I live, I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am sorry you and I should quarrel, but I hope here’s an end on’t; for if you are satisfied, I am.LOVELESS.I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any further, so you may be at rest, sir.LORD FOPPINGTON.Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb!—[Aside.] But thou hast an impertinent wife, stap my vitals!PROBE.So—carry him off!—carry him off!—We shall have him into a fever by-and-by.—Carry him off! [Exit withLORD FOPPINGTON.] Enter COLONEL TOWNLY.COLONEL TOWNLY.So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.—I met a wounded peer carrying off. For heaven’s sake what was the matter?LOVELESS.Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife before my face, so she obliged him with a box o’ the ear, and I ran him through the body, that was all.COLONEL TOWNLY.Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how long has this noble lord been an humble servant of yours?AMANDA.This is the first I have heard on’t—so I suppose, ’tis his quality more than his love has brought him into this adventure. He thinks his title an authentic passport to every woman’s heart below the degree of a peeress.COLONEL TOWNLY.He’s coxcomb enough to think anything: but I would not have you brought into trouble for him. I hope there’s no danger of his life?LOVELESS.None at all. He’s fallen into the hands of a roguish surgeon, who, I perceive, designs to frighten a little money out of him: but I saw his wound—’tis nothing: he may go to the ball tonight if he pleases.COLONEL TOWNLY.I am glad you have corrected him without further mischief, or you might have deprived me of the pleasure of executing a plot against his lordship, which I have been contriving with an old acquaintance of yours.LOVELESS.Explain.COLONEL TOWNLY.His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here, and we have it in contemplation to save him the trouble of his intended wedding: but we want your assistance. Tom would have called but he is preparing for his enterprise, so I promised to bring you to him—so, sir, if these ladies can spare you—LOVELESS.I’ll go with you with all my heart.—[Aside.] Though I could wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that creature. Good gods! how engaging she is!—but what have I to do with beauty? I have already had my portion, and must not covet more.AMANDA.Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go. [ExitCOLONEL TOWNLY.LOVELESS.What would my dear?AMANDA.Only a woman’s foolish question: how do you like my cousin here?LOVELESS.Jealous already, Amanda?AMANDA.Not at all: I ask you for another reason.LOVELESS.[Aside.] Whate’er her reason be, I must not tell her true.—[Aloud.] Why, I confess, she’s handsome: but you must not think I slight your kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the women who may claim that character, she is the last that would triumph in my heart.AMANDA.I’m satisfied.LOVELESS.Now tell me why you asked?AMANDA.At night I will—adieu!LOVELESS.I’m yours. [Kisses her and exit.]AMANDA.I’m glad to find he does not like her, for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. [Aside.]BERINTHIA.So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there must be something more at the bottom of this than the provocation he pretends from me. [Aside.]AMANDA.For Heaven’s sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me.BERINTHIA.Why, one way in the world there is, and but one.AMANDA.And pray what is that?BERINTHIA.It is to assure me—I shall be very welcome.AMANDA.If that be all, you shall e’en sleep here tonight.BERINTHIA.Tonight.AMANDA.Yes, tonight.BERINTHIA.Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad.AMANDA.Let ’em think what they please.BERINTHIA.Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what they please: for I’m a young widow, and I care not what anybody thinks.—Ah, Amanda, it’s a delicious thing to be a young widow!AMANDA.You’ll hardly make me think so.BERINTHIA.Poh! because you are in love with your husband.AMANDA.Pray, ’tis with a world of innocence I would inquire whether you think those we call women of reputation do really escape all other men as they do those shadows of beaux.BERINTHIA.Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful work amongst ’em, men that may be called the beau’s antipathy, for they agree in nothing but walking upon two legs. These have brains, the beau has none. These are in love with their mistress, the beau with himself. They take care of their reputation, the beau is industrious to destroy it. They are decent, he’s a fop; in short, they are men, he’s an ass.AMANDA.If this be their character, I fancy we had here, e’en now, a pattern of ’em both.BERINTHIA.His lordship and Colonel Townly?AMANDA.The same.BERINTHIA.As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the other, I can assure you there’s not a man in town who has a better interest with the women that are worth having an interest with.AMANDA.He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [Takes her hand.] I must acquaint you with a secret—’tis not that fool alone has talked to me of love; Townly has been tampering too.BERINTHIA.[Aside.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!—[Aloud.] Colonel Townly! impossible, my dear!AMANDA.’Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor do I think that all the merit of mankind combined could shake the tender love I bear my husband; yet I will own to you, Berinthia, I did not start at his addresses, as when they came from one whom I contemned.BERINTHIA.[Aside.] Oh, this is better and better!—[Aloud.] Well said, innocence! and you really think, my dear, that nothing could abate your constancy and attachment to your husband?AMANDA.Nothing, I am convinced.BERINTHIA.What, if you found he loved another woman better?AMANDA.Well!BERINTHIA.Well!—why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should run the risk of being that thing they call—a husband. Don’t I talk madly?AMANDA.Madly indeed!BERINTHIA.Yet I’m very innocent.AMANDA.That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your humour: but you resolve then never to marry again?BERINTHIA.Oh no! I resolve I will.AMANDA.How so?BERINTHIA.That I never may.AMANDA.You banter me.BERINTHIA.Indeed I don’t: but I consider I’m a woman, and form my resolutions accordingly.AMANDA.Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, matrimony will be the end on’t.BERINTHIA.I doubt it. But ah, Heavens! I have business at home, and am half an hour too late.AMANDA.As you are to return with me, I’ll just give some orders, and walk with you.BERINTHIA.Well, make haste, and we’ll finish this subject as we go—[ExitAMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a country life. Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once false to me and treacherous to his friend!—And my innocent and demure cousin too! I have it in my power to be revenged on her, however. Her husband, if I have any skill in countenance, would be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. I’ll make the experiment, come what will on’t. The woman who can forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an idiot or a wanton. [Exit.]
EnterLOVELESSandAMANDA.
LOVELESS.How do you like these lodgings, my dear? For my part, I am so pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay here, if you are satisfied.
AMANDA.I am satisfied with everything that pleases you, else I had not come to Scarborough at all.
LOVELESS.Oh, a little of the noise and folly of this place will sweeten the pleasures of our retreat; we shall find the charms of our retirement doubled when we return to it.
AMANDA.That pleasing prospect will be my chiefest entertainment, whilst, much against my will, I engage in those empty pleasures which ’tis so much the fashion to be fond of.
LOVELESS.I own most of them are, indeed, but empty; yet there are delights of which a private life is destitute, which may divert an honest man, and be a harmless entertainment to a virtuous woman: good music is one; and truly (with some small allowance) the plays, I think, may be esteemed another.
AMANDA.Plays, I must confess, have some small charms. What do you think of that you saw last night?
LOVELESS.To say truth, I did not mind it much—my attention was for some time taken off to admire the workmanship of Nature in the face of a young lady who sat at some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome.
AMANDA.So exquisitely handsome!
LOVELESS.Why do you repeat my words, my dear?
AMANDA.Because you seemed to speak them with such pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their echo.
LOVELESS.Then you are alarmed, Amanda?
AMANDA.It is my duty to be so when you are in danger.
LOVELESS.You are too quick in apprehending for me. I viewed her with a world of admiration, but not one glance of love.
AMANDA.Take heed of trusting to such nice distinctions. But were your eyes the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my tongue, I fancy, had been curious too. I should have asked her where she lived—yet still without design—who was she, pray?
LOVELESS.Indeed I cannot tell.
AMANDA.You will not tell.
LOVELESS.Upon my honour, then, I did not ask.
AMANDA.Nor do you know what company was with her?
LOVELESS.I do not. But why are you so earnest?
AMANDA.I thought I had cause.
LOVELESS.But you thought wrong, Amanda; for turn the case, and let it be your story: should you come home and tell me you had seen a handsome man, should I grow jealous because you had eyes?
AMANDA.But should I tell you he was exquisitely so, and that I had gazed on him with admiration, should you not think ’twere possible I might go one step further, and inquire his name?
LOVELESS.[Aside.] She has reason on her side; I have talked too much; but I must turn off another way.—[Aloud.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between the language of our sex and yours? There is a modesty restrains your tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; but roving flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what we think.
EnterSERVANT.
SERVANT.Madam, there is a lady at the door in a chair desires to know whether your ladyship sees company; her name is Berinthia.
AMANDA.Oh dear! ’tis a relation I have not seen these five years; pray her to walk in.—[ExitSERVANT.] Here’s another beauty for you; she was, when I saw her last, reckoned extremely handsome.
LOVELESS.Don’t be jealous now; for I shall gaze upon her too.
EnterBERINTHIA. Ha! by heavens, the very woman! [Aside.]
BERINTHIA.[SalutesAMANDA.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet you in Scarborough.
AMANDA.Sweet cousin, I’m overjoyed to see you.—Mr. Loveless, here’s a relation and a friend of mine, I desire you’ll be better acquainted with.
LOVELESS.[SalutesBERINTHIA.] If my wife never desires a harder thing, madam, her request will be easily granted.
Re-enterSERVANT.
SERVANT.Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble service to you, and desires to know how you do. He’s at the next door; and, if it be not inconvenient to you, he’ll come and wait upon you.
LOVELESS.Give my compliments to his lordship, and I shall be glad to see him.—[ExitSERVANT.] If you are not acquainted with his lordship, madam, you will be entertained with his character.
AMANDA.Now it moves my pity more than my mirth to see a man whom nature has made no fool be so very industrious to pass for an ass.
LOVELESS.No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you should never bestow your pity upon those who take pains for your contempt: pity those whom nature abuses, never those who abuse nature.
EnterLORD FOPPINGTON.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Dear Loveless, I am your most humble servant.
LOVELESS.My lord, I’m yours.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Madam, your ladyship’s very obedient slave.
LOVELESS.My lord, this lady is a relation of my wife’s.
LORD FOPPINGTON.[SalutesBERINTHIA.] The beautifullest race of people upon earth, rat me! Dear Loveless, I am overjoyed that you think of continuing here: I am, stap my vitals!—[ToAMANDA.] For Gad’s sake, madam, how has your ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the fatigue of a country life?
AMANDA.My life has been very far from that, my lord; it has been a very quiet one.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Why, that’s the fatigue I speak of, madam; for ’tis impossible to be quiet without thinking: now thinking is to me the greatest fatigue in the world.
AMANDA.Does not your lordship love reading, then?
LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh, passionately, madam; but I never think of what I read. For example, madam, my life is a perpetual stream of pleasure, that glides through with such a variety of entertainments, I believe the wisest of our ancestors never had the least conception of any of ’em. I rise, madam, when in town, about twelve o’clock. I don’t rise sooner, because it is the worst thing in the world for the complexion: not that I pretend to be a beau; but a man must endeavour to look decent, lest he makes so odious a figure in the side-bax, the ladies should be compelled to turn their eyes upon the play. So at twelve o’clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it is a good day, I resalve to take the exercise of riding; so drink my chocolate, and draw on my boots by two. On my return, I dress; and, after dinner, lounge perhaps to the opera.
BERINTHIA.Your lordship, I suppose, is fond of music?
LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh, passionately, on Tuesdays and Saturdays; for then there is always the best company, and one is not expected to undergo the fatigue of listening.
AMANDA.Does your lordship think that the case at the opera?
LORD FOPPINGTON.Most certainly, madam. There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, my Lady Sneer, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin—these have boxes in the front, and while any favourite air is singing, are the prettiest company in the waurld, stap my vitals!—Mayn’t we hope for the honour to see you added to our society, madam?
AMANDA.Alas! my lord, I am the worst company in the world at a concert, I’m so apt to attend to the music.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Why, madam, that is very pardonable in the country or at church, but a monstrous inattention in a polite assembly. But I am afraid I tire the company?
LOVELESS.Not at all. Pray go on.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Why then, ladies, there only remains to add, that I generally conclude the evening at one or other of the clubs; nat that I ever play deep; indeed I have been for some time tied up from losing above five thousand paunds at a sitting.
LOVELESS.But isn’t your lordship sometimes obliged to attend the weighty affairs of the nation?
LORD FOPPINGTON.Sir, as to weighty affairs, I leave them to weighty heads; I never intend mine shall be a burden to my body.
BERINTHIA.Nay, my lord, but you are a pillar of the state.
LORD FOPPINGTON.An ornamental pillar, madam; for sooner than undergo any part of the fatigue, rat me, but the whole building should fall plump to the ground!
AMANDA.But, my lord, a fine gentleman spends a great deal of his time in his intrigues; you have given us no account of them yet.
LORD FOPPINGTON.[Aside.] So! she would inquire into my amours—that’s jealousy, poor soul!—I see she’s in love with me.—[Aloud.] O Lord, madam, I had like to have forgot a secret I must need tell your ladyship.—Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.
LOVELESS.[LeadingBERINTHIAup the stage.] Not I, my lord; I am too fashionable a husband to pry into the secrets of my wife.
LORD FOPPINGTON.[Aside toAMANDAsqueezing her hand.] I am in love with you to desperation, strike me speechless!
AMANDA.[Strikes him on the ear.] Then thus I return your passion.—An impudent fool!
LORD FOPPINGTON.God’s curse, madam, I am a peer of the realm!
LOVELESS.[Hastily returning.] Hey! what the devil, do you affront my wife, sir? Nay, then—[Draws. They fight.]
AMANDA.What has my folly done?—Help! murder! help! Part them for Heaven’s sake.
LORD FOPPINGTON.[Falls back and leans on his sword.] Ah! quite through the body, stap my vitals!
EnterSERVANTS.
LOVELESS.[Runs toLORD FOPPINGTON.] I hope I ha’nt killed the fool, however. Bear him up.—Call a surgeon there.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Ay, pray make haste. [ExitSERVANT.
LOVELESS.This mischief you may thank yourself for.
LORD FOPPINGTON.I may say so; love’s the devil indeed, Ned.
Re-enterSERVANT,withPROBE.
SERVANT.Here’s Mr. Probe, sir, was just going by the door.
LORD FOPPINGTON.He’s the welcomest man alive.
PROBE.Stand by, stand by, stand by; pray, gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon us, did you never see a man run through the body before?—Pray stand by.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Ah, Mr. Probe, I’m a dead man.
PROBE.A dead man, and I by! I should laugh to see that, egad.
LOVELESS.Pr’ythee don’t stand prating, but look upon his wound.
PROBE.Why, what if I don’t look upon his wound this hour, sir?
LOVELESS.Why, then he’ll bleed to death, sir.
PROBE.Why, then I’ll fetch him to life again, sir.
LOVELESS.’Slife! he’s run through the body, I tell thee.
PROBE.I wish he was run through the heart, and I should get the more credit by his cure. Now I hope you are satisfied? Come, now let me come at him—now let me come at him.—[Viewing his wound.] Oops, what a gash is here! why, sir, a man may drive a coach and six horses into your body.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Oh!
PROBE.Why, what the devil have you run the gentleman through with—a scythe?—[Aside.] A little scratch between the skin and the ribs, that’s all.
LOVELESS.Let me see his wound.
PROBE.Then you shall dress it, sir; for if anybody looks upon it I won’t.
LOVELESS.Why, thou art the veriest coxcomb I ever saw!
PROBE.Sir, I am not master of my trade for nothing.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Surgeon!
PROBE.Sir.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Are there any hopes?
PROBE.Hopes! I can’t tell. What are you willing to give for a cure?
LORD FOPPINGTON.Five hundred paunds with pleasure.
PROBE.Why then perhaps there may be hopes; but we must avoid further delay.—Here, help the gentleman into a chair, and carry him to my house presently—that’s the properest place—[Aside.] to bubble him out of his money.—[Aloud.] Come, a chair—a chair quickly—there, in with him.
[SERVANTSputLORD FOPPINGTONinto a chair.]
LORD FOPPINGTON.Dear Loveless, adieu; if I die, I forgive thee; and if I live, I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am sorry you and I should quarrel, but I hope here’s an end on’t; for if you are satisfied, I am.
LOVELESS.I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any further, so you may be at rest, sir.
LORD FOPPINGTON.Thou art a generous fellow, strike me dumb!—[Aside.] But thou hast an impertinent wife, stap my vitals!
PROBE.So—carry him off!—carry him off!—We shall have him into a fever by-and-by.—Carry him off! [Exit withLORD FOPPINGTON.] Enter COLONEL TOWNLY.
COLONEL TOWNLY.So, so, I am glad to find you all alive.—I met a wounded peer carrying off. For heaven’s sake what was the matter?
LOVELESS.Oh, a trifle! he would have made love to my wife before my face, so she obliged him with a box o’ the ear, and I ran him through the body, that was all.
COLONEL TOWNLY.Bagatelle on all sides. But pray, madam, how long has this noble lord been an humble servant of yours?
AMANDA.This is the first I have heard on’t—so I suppose, ’tis his quality more than his love has brought him into this adventure. He thinks his title an authentic passport to every woman’s heart below the degree of a peeress.
COLONEL TOWNLY.He’s coxcomb enough to think anything: but I would not have you brought into trouble for him. I hope there’s no danger of his life?
LOVELESS.None at all. He’s fallen into the hands of a roguish surgeon, who, I perceive, designs to frighten a little money out of him: but I saw his wound—’tis nothing: he may go to the ball tonight if he pleases.
COLONEL TOWNLY.I am glad you have corrected him without further mischief, or you might have deprived me of the pleasure of executing a plot against his lordship, which I have been contriving with an old acquaintance of yours.
LOVELESS.Explain.
COLONEL TOWNLY.His brother, Tom Fashion, is come down here, and we have it in contemplation to save him the trouble of his intended wedding: but we want your assistance. Tom would have called but he is preparing for his enterprise, so I promised to bring you to him—so, sir, if these ladies can spare you—
LOVELESS.I’ll go with you with all my heart.—[Aside.] Though I could wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that creature. Good gods! how engaging she is!—but what have I to do with beauty? I have already had my portion, and must not covet more.
AMANDA.Mr. Loveless, pray one word with you before you go. [ExitCOLONEL TOWNLY.
LOVELESS.What would my dear?
AMANDA.Only a woman’s foolish question: how do you like my cousin here?
LOVELESS.Jealous already, Amanda?
AMANDA.Not at all: I ask you for another reason.
LOVELESS.[Aside.] Whate’er her reason be, I must not tell her true.—[Aloud.] Why, I confess, she’s handsome: but you must not think I slight your kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the women who may claim that character, she is the last that would triumph in my heart.
AMANDA.I’m satisfied.
LOVELESS.Now tell me why you asked?
AMANDA.At night I will—adieu!
LOVELESS.I’m yours. [Kisses her and exit.]
AMANDA.I’m glad to find he does not like her, for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. [Aside.]
BERINTHIA.So! I find my colonel continues in his airs; there must be something more at the bottom of this than the provocation he pretends from me. [Aside.]
AMANDA.For Heaven’s sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me.
BERINTHIA.Why, one way in the world there is, and but one.
AMANDA.And pray what is that?
BERINTHIA.It is to assure me—I shall be very welcome.
AMANDA.If that be all, you shall e’en sleep here tonight.
BERINTHIA.Tonight.
AMANDA.Yes, tonight.
BERINTHIA.Why, the people where I lodge will think me mad.
AMANDA.Let ’em think what they please.
BERINTHIA.Say you so, Amanda? Why, then, they shall think what they please: for I’m a young widow, and I care not what anybody thinks.—Ah, Amanda, it’s a delicious thing to be a young widow!
AMANDA.You’ll hardly make me think so.
BERINTHIA.Poh! because you are in love with your husband.
AMANDA.Pray, ’tis with a world of innocence I would inquire whether you think those we call women of reputation do really escape all other men as they do those shadows of beaux.
BERINTHIA.Oh no, Amanda; there are a sort of men make dreadful work amongst ’em, men that may be called the beau’s antipathy, for they agree in nothing but walking upon two legs. These have brains, the beau has none. These are in love with their mistress, the beau with himself. They take care of their reputation, the beau is industrious to destroy it. They are decent, he’s a fop; in short, they are men, he’s an ass.
AMANDA.If this be their character, I fancy we had here, e’en now, a pattern of ’em both.
BERINTHIA.His lordship and Colonel Townly?
AMANDA.The same.
BERINTHIA.As for the lord, he is eminently so; and for the other, I can assure you there’s not a man in town who has a better interest with the women that are worth having an interest with.
AMANDA.He answers the opinion I had ever of him. [Takes her hand.] I must acquaint you with a secret—’tis not that fool alone has talked to me of love; Townly has been tampering too.
BERINTHIA.[Aside.] So, so! here the mystery comes out!—[Aloud.] Colonel Townly! impossible, my dear!
AMANDA.’Tis true indeed; though he has done it in vain; nor do I think that all the merit of mankind combined could shake the tender love I bear my husband; yet I will own to you, Berinthia, I did not start at his addresses, as when they came from one whom I contemned.
BERINTHIA.[Aside.] Oh, this is better and better!—[Aloud.] Well said, innocence! and you really think, my dear, that nothing could abate your constancy and attachment to your husband?
AMANDA.Nothing, I am convinced.
BERINTHIA.What, if you found he loved another woman better?
AMANDA.Well!
BERINTHIA.Well!—why, were I that thing they call a slighted wife, somebody should run the risk of being that thing they call—a husband. Don’t I talk madly?
AMANDA.Madly indeed!
BERINTHIA.Yet I’m very innocent.
AMANDA.That I dare swear you are. I know how to make allowances for your humour: but you resolve then never to marry again?
BERINTHIA.Oh no! I resolve I will.
AMANDA.How so?
BERINTHIA.That I never may.
AMANDA.You banter me.
BERINTHIA.Indeed I don’t: but I consider I’m a woman, and form my resolutions accordingly.
AMANDA.Well, my opinion is, form what resolutions you will, matrimony will be the end on’t.
BERINTHIA.I doubt it. But ah, Heavens! I have business at home, and am half an hour too late.
AMANDA.As you are to return with me, I’ll just give some orders, and walk with you.
BERINTHIA.Well, make haste, and we’ll finish this subject as we go—[ExitAMANDA.]. Ah, poor Amanda! you have led a country life. Well, this discovery is lucky! Base Townly! at once false to me and treacherous to his friend!—And my innocent and demure cousin too! I have it in my power to be revenged on her, however. Her husband, if I have any skill in countenance, would be as happy in my smiles as Townly can hope to be in hers. I’ll make the experiment, come what will on’t. The woman who can forgive the being robbed of a favoured lover, must be either an idiot or a wanton. [Exit.]