Foresight,Scandal,Mrs. Foresight,Ben.
MRS. FORE. Here’s Mr. Benjamin, he can tell us if his father be come home.
BEN. Who? Father? Ay, he’s come home with a vengeance.
MRS. FORE. Why, what’s the matter?
BEN. Matter! Why, he’s mad.
FORE. Mercy on us, I was afraid of this. And there’s the handsome young woman, she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she’s mad too, I think.
FORE. Oh, my poor niece, my poor niece, is she gone too? Well, I shall run mad next.
MRS. FORE. Well, but how mad? How d’ye mean?
BEN. Nay, I’ll give you leave to guess. I’ll undertake to make a voyage to Antegoa—no, hold; I mayn’t say so, neither. But I’ll sail as far as Leghorn and back again before you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit right.
MRS. FORE. Your experiment will take up a little too much time.
BEN. Why, then, I’ll tell you; there’s a new wedding upon the stocks, and they two are a-going to be married to rights.
SCAN. Who?
BEN. Why, father and—the young woman. I can’t hit of her name.
SCAN. Angelica?
BEN. Ay, the same.
MRS. FORE. Sir Sampson and Angelica? Impossible!
BEN. That may be—but I’m sure it is as I tell you.
SCAN. ’Sdeath, it’s a jest. I can’t believe it.
BEN. Look you, friend, it’s nothing to me whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, d’ye see, they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which.
FORE. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not lunatic?
BEN. I don’t know what you may call madness. But she’s mad for a husband, and he’s horn mad, I think, or they’d ne’er make a match together. Here they come.
[To them]Sir Sampson,Angelica,Buckram.
SIR SAMP. Where is this old soothsayer, this uncle of mine elect? Aha, old Foresight, Uncle Foresight, wish me joy, Uncle Foresight, double joy, both as uncle and astrologer; here’s a conjunction that was not foretold in all your Ephemeris. The brightest star in the blue firmament—is shot from above,in a jelly of love, and so forth; and I’m lord of the ascendant. Odd, you’re an old fellow, Foresight; uncle, I mean, a very old fellow, Uncle Foresight: and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding; faith and troth, you shall. Odd, we’ll have the music of the sphere’s for thee, old Lilly, that we will, and thou shalt lead up a dance in Via Lactea.
FORE. I’m thunderstruck! You are not married to my niece?
SIR SAMP. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it, within a kiss of the matter, as you see. [KissesAngelica.]
ANG. ’Tis very true, indeed, uncle. I hope you’ll be my father, and give me.
SIR SAMP. That he shall, or I’ll burn his globes. Body o’ me, he shall be thy father, I’ll make him thy father, and thou shalt make me a father, and I’ll make thee a mother, and we’ll beget sons and daughters enough to put the weekly bills out of countenance.
SCAN. Death and hell! Where’s Valentine?
Sir Sampson,Angelica,Foresight,Mrs. Foresight,Ben,Buckram.
MRS. FORE. This is so surprising.
SIR SAMP. How! What does my aunt say? Surprising, aunt? Not at all for a young couple to make a match in winter: not at all. It’s a plot to undermine cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed called a warming-pan.
MRS. FORE. I’m glad to hear you have so much fire in you, Sir Sampson.
BEN. Mess, I fear his fire’s little better than tinder; mayhap it will only serve to light up a match for somebody else. The young woman’s a handsome young woman, I can’t deny it: but, father, if I might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her. It’s just the same thing as if so be you should sail so far as the Straits without provision.
SIR SAMP. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To your element, fish, be mute, fish, and to sea, rule your helm, sirrah, don’t direct me.
BEN. Well, well, take you care of your own helm, or you mayn’t keep your new vessel steady.
SIR SAMP. Why, you impudent tarpaulin! Sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father? But I shall be even with you, I won’t give you a groat. Mr. Buckram, is the conveyance so worded that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it, but by the North-East Passage.
BUCK. Sir, it is drawn according to your directions; there is not the least cranny of the law unstopt.
BEN. Lawyer, I believe there’s many a cranny and leak unstopt in your conscience. If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe we should discover a foul hold. They say a witch will sail in a sieve: but I believe the devil would not venture aboard o’ your conscience. And that’s for you.
SIR SAMP. Hold your tongue, sirrah. How now, who’s here?
[To them]TattleandMrs. Frail.
MRS. FRAIL. O sister, the most unlucky accident.
MRS. FORE. What’s the matter?
TATT. Oh, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in the world we are.
FORE. Bless us! How so?
MRS. FRAIL. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tattle and I are—I can’t speak it out.
TATT. Nor I. But poor Mrs. Frail and I are—
MRS. FRAIL. Married.
MRS. FORE. Married! How?
TATT. Suddenly—before we knew where we were—that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, tricked us into one another.
FORE. Why, you told me just now you went hence in haste to be married.
ANG. But I believe Mr. Tattle meant the favour to me: I thank him.
TATT. I did, as I hope to be saved, madam; my intentions were good. But this is the most cruel thing, to marry one does not know how, nor why, nor wherefore. The devil take me if ever I was so much concerned at anything in my life.
ANG. ’Tis very unhappy, if you don’t care for one another.
TATT. The least in the world—that is for my part: I speak for myself. Gad, I never had the least thought of serious kindness.—I never liked anybody less in my life. Poor woman! Gad, I’m sorry for her too, for I have no reason to hate her neither; but I believe I shall lead her a damned sort of a life.
MRS. FORE. He’s better than no husband at all—though he’s a coxcomb. [ToFrail.]
MRS. FRAIL [to her]. Ay, ay, it’s well it’s no worse.—Nay, for my part I always despised Mr. Tattle of all things; nothing but his being my husband could have made me like him less.
TATT. Look you there, I thought as much. Pox on’t, I wish we could keep it secret; why, I don’t believe any of this company would speak of it.
MRS. FRAIL. But, my dear, that’s impossible: the parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish it.
TATT. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say.
ANG. Oh, you’ll agree very well in a little time; custom will make it easy to you.
TATT. Easy! Pox on’t, I don’t believe I shall sleep to-night.
SIR SAMP. Sleep, quotha! No; why, you would not sleep o’ your wedding-night? I’m an older fellow than you, and don’t mean to sleep.
BEN. Why, there’s another match now, as thof a couple of privateers were looking for a prize and should fall foul of one another. I’m sorry for the young man with all my heart. Look you, friend, if I may advise you, when she’s going—for that you must expect, I have experience of her—when she’s going, let her go. For no matrimony is tough enough to hold her; and if she can’t drag her anchor along with her, she’ll break her cable, I can tell you that. Who’s here? The madman?
Valentine,Scandal,Sir Sampson,Angelica,Foresight,Mrs. Foresight,Tattle,Mrs. Frail,Ben,Jeremy,Buckram.
VAL. No; here’s the fool, and if occasion be, I’ll give it under my hand.
SIR SAMP. How now?
VAL. Sir, I’m come to acknowledge my errors, and ask your pardon.
SIR SAMP. What, have you found your senses at last then? In good time, sir.
VAL. You were abused, sir: I never was distracted.
FORE. How! Not mad! Mr. Scandal—
SCAN. No, really, sir. I’m his witness; it was all counterfeit.
VAL. I thought I had reasons—but it was a poor contrivance, the effect has shown it such.
SIR SAMP. Contrivance! What, to cheat me? to cheat your father? Sirrah, could you hope to prosper?
VAL. Indeed, I thought, sir, when the father endeavoured to undo the son, it was a reasonable return of nature.
SIR SAMP. Very good, sir. Mr. Buckram, are you ready? Come, sir, will you sign and seal?
VAL. If you please, sir; but first I would ask this lady one question.
SIR SAMP. Sir, you must ask me leave first. That lady? No, sir, you shall ask that lady no questions till you have asked her blessing, sir: that lady is to be my wife.
VAL. I have heard as much, sir; but I would have it from her own mouth.
SIR SAMP. That’s as much as to say I lie, sir, and you don’t believe what I say.
VAL. Pardon me, sir. But I reflect that I very lately counterfeited madness; I don’t know but the frolic may go round.
SIR SAMP. Come, chuck, satisfy him, answer him. Come, come, Mr. Buckram, the pen and ink.
BUCK. Here it is, sir, with the deed; all is ready. [Valentinegoes toAngelica.]
ANG. ’Tis true, you have a great while pretended love to me; nay, what if you were sincere? Still you must pardon me if I think my own inclinations have a better right to dispose of my person than yours.
SIR SAMP. Are you answered now, sir?
VAL. Yes, sir.
SIR SAMP. Where’s your plot, sir? and your contrivance now, sir? Will you sign, sir? Come, will you sign and seal?
VAL. With all my heart, sir.
SCAN. ’Sdeath, you are not mad indeed, to ruin yourself?
VAL. I have been disappointed of my only hope, and he that loses hope may part with anything. I never valued fortune but as it was subservient to my pleasure, and my only pleasure was to please this lady. I have made many vain attempts, and find at last that nothing but my ruin can effect it; which, for that reason, I will sign to—give me the paper.
ANG. Generous Valentine! [Aside.]
BUCK. Here is the deed, sir.
VAL. But where is the bond by which I am obliged to sign this?
BUCK. Sir Sampson, you have it.
ANG. No, I have it, and I’ll use it as I would everything that is an enemy to Valentine. [Tears the paper.]
SIR SAMP. How now?
VAL. Ha!
ANG. Had I the world to give you, it could not make me worthy of so generous and faithful a passion. Here’s my hand:—my heart was always yours, and struggled very hard to make this utmost trial of your virtue. [ToValentine.]
VAL. Between pleasure and amazement I am lost. But on my knees I take the blessing.
SIR SAMP. Oons, what is the meaning of this?
BEN. Mess, here’s the wind changed again. Father, you and I may make a voyage together now.
ANG. Well, Sir Sampson, since I have played you a trick, I’ll advise you how you may avoid such another. Learn to be a good father, or you’ll never get a second wife. I always loved your son, and hated your unforgiving nature. I was resolved to try him to the utmost; I have tried you too, and know you both. You have not more faults than he has virtues, and ’tis hardly more pleasure to me that I can make him and myself happy than that I can punish you.
VAL. If my happiness could receive addition, this kind surprise would make it double.
SIR SAMP. Oons, you’re a crocodile.
FORE. Really, Sir Sampson, this is a sudden eclipse.
SIR SAMP. You’re an illiterate old fool, and I’m another.
TATT. If the gentleman is in disorder for want of a wife, I can spare him mine.—Oh, are you there, sir? I’m indebted to you for my happiness. [ToJeremy.]
JERE. Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons: ’twas an errant mistake. You see, sir, my master was never mad, nor anything like it. Then how could it be otherwise?
VAL. Tattle, I thank you; you would have interposed between me and heaven, but Providence laid purgatory in your way. You have but justice.
SCAN. I hear the fiddles that Sir Sampson provided for his own wedding; methinks ’tis pity they should not be employed when the match is so much mended. Valentine, though it be morning, we may have a dance.
VAL. Anything, my friend, everything that looks like joy and transport.
SCAN. Call ’em, Jeremy.
ANG. I have done dissembling now, Valentine; and if that coldness which I have always worn before you should turn to an extreme fondness, you must not suspect it.
VAL. I’ll prevent that suspicion: for I intend to dote to that immoderate degree that your fondness shall never distinguish itself enough to be taken notice of. If ever you seem to love too much, it must be only when I can’t love enough.
ANG. Have a care of promises; you know you are apt to run more in debt than you are able to pay.
VAL. Therefore I yield my body as your prisoner, and make your best on’t.
SCAN. The music stays for you. [Dance.]
SCAN. Well, madam, you have done exemplary justice in punishing an inhuman father and rewarding a faithful lover. But there is a third good work which I, in particular, must thank you for: I was an infidel to your sex, and you have converted me. For now I am convinced that all women are not like fortune, blind in bestowing favours, either on those who do not merit or who do not want ’em.
ANG. ’Tis an unreasonable accusation that you lay upon our sex: you tax us with injustice, only to cover your own want of merit. You would all have the reward of love, but few have the constancy to stay till it becomes your due. Men are generally hypocrites and infidels: they pretend to worship, but have neither zeal nor faith. How few, like Valentine, would persevere even to martyrdom, and sacrifice their interest to their constancy! In admiring me, you misplace the novelty.
The miracle to-day is, that we findA lover true; not that a woman’s kind.