Enter SirTimothy Treat-all,follow’d byTom Wilding bare, Sir_ Charles Meriwill, Foppington,and Footman with a Cloke.
SirTim. Trouble me no more: for I am resolv’d, deaf and obdurate, d’ye see, and so forth.
Wild. I beseech ye, Uncle, hear me.
SirTim. No.
Wild. Dear Uncle—
SirTim. No.
Wild. You will be mortify’d—
SirTim. No.
Wild. At least hear me out, Sir.
SirTim. No, I have heard you out too often, Sir, till you have talkt me out of many a fair Thousand; have had ye out of all the Bayliffs, Serjeants, and Constables Clutches about Town, Sir; have brought you out of all the Surgeons, Apothecaries, and pocky Doctors Hands, that ever pretended to cure incurable Diseases; and have crost ye out of the Books of all the Mercers, Silk-men, Exchange-men, Taylors, Shoemakers, and Sempstresses; with all the rest of the unconscionable City-tribe of the long Bill, that had but Faith enough to trust, and thought me Fool enough to pay.
SirChar. But, Sir, consider, he’s your own Flesh and Blood.
SirTim. That’s more than I’ll swear.
SirChar. Your only Heir.
SirTim. That’s more than you or any of his wise Associates can tell,Sir.
SirChar. Why his wise Associates? Have you any Exception to the Company he keeps? This reflects on me and youngDresswell, Sir, Men both of Birth and Fortune.
SirTim. Why, good SirCharles Meriwill, let me tell you, since you’ll have it out, That you and youngDresswellare able to debauch, destroy, and confound all the young imitating Fops in Town.
SirChar. How, Sir!
SirTim. Nay, never huff, Sir; for I have six thousand Pound a Year, and value no Man: Neither do I speak so much for your particular, as for the Company you keep, such Tarmagant Tories as these, [To Fop.] who are the very Vermin of a young Heir, and for one tickling give him a thousand bites.
Fop. Death! meaning me, Sir?
SirTim. Yes, you, Sir. Nay, never stare, Sir; I fear you not; No Man’s hectoring signifies this—in the City, but the Constables: no body dares be saucy here, except it be in the King’s name.
SirChar. Sir, I confess he was to blame.
SirTim. SirCharles, thanks to Heaven, you may be leud, you have a plentiful Estate, may whore, drink, game, and play the Devil: your Uncle, Sir Anthony Meriwill, intends to give you all his Estate too. But for such Sparks as this, and my Fop in Fashion here, why, with what Face, Conscience, or Religion, can they be leud and vitious, keep their Wenches, Coaches, rich Liveries, and so forth, who live upon Charity, and the Sins of the Nation?
SirChar. If he hath youthful Vices, he has Virtues too.
SirTim. Yes, he had, but I know not, you have bewitch’d him Amongst ye. [weeping. Before he fell to Toryism, he was a sober, civil Youth, and had some Religion in him, wou’d read ye Prayers Night and Morning with a laudable Voice, and cry Amen to ‘em; ‘twou’d have done one’s Heart good to have heard him—wore decent Clothes, was drunk but on Sundays and Holidays; and then I had Hopes of him. [Still weeping.
Wild. Ay, Heaven forgive me.
SirChar. But, Sir, he’s now become a new Man, is casting off all his Women, is drunk not above five or six times a week, swears not above once in a quarter of an Hour, nor has not gam’d this two Days—
SirTim. ‘Twas because the Devil was in’s Pocket then.
SirChar.—Begins to take up at Coffee-houses, talks gravely in the City, speaks scandalously of the Government, and rails most abominably against the Pope and the French King.
SirTim. Ay, ay, this shall not wheedle me out of one English Guinea; and so I told him yesterday.
Wild. You did so, Sir.
SirTim. Yes; by a good Token you were witty upon me, and swore I lov’d and honoured the King no where but on his Coin.
SirChar. Is it possible, Sir.
Wild. God forgive me, Sir; I confess I was a little overtaken.
SirTim. Ay, so it shou’d seem: for he mistook his own Chamber, and went to bed to my Maid’s.
SirChar. How! to bed to your Maid’s! Sure, Sir, ‘tis scandal on him.
SirTim. No, no, he makes his brags on’t, Sir. Oh, that crying Sin of Boasting! Well fare, I say, the Days of old Oliver, he by a wholesom Act made it death to boast; so that then a Man might whore his Heart out, and no body the wiser.
SirChar. Right, Sir, and then the Men pass’d for sober religiousPersons, and the Women for as demure Saints—
SirTim. Ay, then there was no scandal; but now they do not only boast what they do, but what they do not.
Wild. I’ll take care that fault shall be mended, Sir.
SirTim. Ay, so will I, if Poverty has any Feats of Mortification; andso farewel to you, Sir.[Going.
Wild. Stay, Sir, are you resolv’d to be so cruel then, and ruin all my Fortunes now depending?
SirTim. Most religiously—
Wild. You are?
SirTim. I am.
Wild. Death, I’ll rob.
SirTim. Do and be hang’d.
Wild. Nay, I’ll turn Papist.
SirTim. Do and be damn’d.
SirChar. Bless me, Sir, what a Scandal would that be to the Family of theTreat-alls!
SirTim. Hum! I had rather indeed he turn’d Turk or Jew, for his own sake; but as for scandalizing me, I defy it: My Integrity has been known ever since Forty one; I bought three Thousand a year in Bishops Lands, as ’.is well known, and lost it at the King’s return; for which I’m honour’d by the City. But for his farther Satisfaction, Consolation, and Destruction, know, That I SirTimothy Treat-all, Knight and Alderman, do think my self young enough to marry, d’ye see, and will wipe your Nose with a Son and Heir of my own begetting, and so forth. [Going away.
Wild. Death! marry!
SirChar. Patience, dear Tom, or thou’t spoil all.
Wild. Damn him, I’ve lost all Patience, and can dissemble no longer, though I lose all—Very good, Sir; harkye, I hope she’s young and handsome; or if she be not, amongst the numerous lusty-stomacht Whigs that daily nose your publick Dinners, some maybe found, that either for Money, Charity, or Gratitude, may requite your Treats. You keep open House to all the Party, not for Mirth, Generosity or good Nature, but for Roguery. You cram the Brethren, the pious City-Gluttons, with good Cheer, good Wine, and Rebellion in abundance, gormandizing all Comers and Goers, of all Sexes, Sorts, Opinions and Religions, young half-witted Fops, hot-headed Fools, and Malecontents: You guttle and fawn on all, and all in hopes of debauching the King’s Liege-people into Commonwealthsmen; and rather than lose a Convert, you’ll pimp for him. These are your nightly Debauches—Nay, rather than you shall want it, I’ll cuckold you my self in pure Revenge.
SirTim. How! Cuckold his own natural Uncle!
SirChar. Oh, he cannot be so profane.
Wild. Profane! why he deny’d but now the having any share in me; and therefore ‘tis lawful. I am to live by my Wits, you say, and your old rich good-natur’d Cuckold is as sure a Revenue to a handsome young Cadet, as a thousand Pound a Year. Your tolerable Face and Shape is an Estate in the City, and a better Bank than your Six per Cent, at any time.
SirTim. Well, Sir, since Nature has furnisht you so well, you need but up and ride, show and be rich; and so your Servant, witty Mr.Wilding. [Goes out. He looks after him.
SirChar. Whilst I am labouring another’s good, I quite neglect my own. This cursed, proud, disdainful LadyGalliard, is ever in my Head; she’s now at Church, I’m sure, not for Devotion, but to shew her Charms, and throw her Darts amongst the gazing Croud; and grows more vain by Conquest. I’m near the Church, and must step in, though it cost me a new Wound. [Wild,stands pausing.
Wild. I am resolv’d—Well, dearCharles, let’s sup together to night, and contrive some way to e reveng’d of this wicked Uncle of mine. I must leave thee now, for I have an Assignation here at Church.
SirChar. Hah! at Church!
Wild. Ay,Charleswith the dearest She-Saint, and I hope Sinner.
SirChar. What, at Church? Pox, I shall be discover’d now in my Amours.That’s an odd place for Love-Intrigues.
Wild. Oh, I am to pass for a sober, discreet Person to the Relations; but for my Mistress, she’s made of no such sanctify’d Materials; she is a Widow,Charles, young, rich, and beautiful.
SirChar. Hah! if this shou’d prove my Widow, now. [Aside.
Wild. And though at her own dispose, yet is much govern’d by Honour, and a rigid Mother, who is ever preaching to her against the Vices of Youth, and t’other end of the Town Sparks; dreads nothing so much as her Daughter’s marrying a villanous Tory. So the young one is forc’d to dissemble Religion, the best Mask to hide a kind Mistress in.
SirChar. This must be my LadyGalliard. [Aside.
Wild. There is at present some ill understanding between us; some damn’d Honourable Fop lays siege to her, which has made me ill received; and I having a new Intrigue elsewhere, return her cold Disdain, but now and then she crosses my Heart too violently to resist her. In one of these hot Fits I now am, and must find some occasion to speak to her.
SirChar. By Heaven, it must be she—I am studying now, amongst all ourShe-Acquaintance, who this shou’d be.
Wild. Oh, this is of Quality to be conceal’d; but the dearest loveliest Hypocrite, white as Lillies, smooth as Rushes, and plump as Grapes after a Shower, haughty her Mein, her Eyes full of Disdain, and yet bewitching sweet; but when she loves soft, witty, wanton, all that charms a Soul, and but for now and then a fit of Honour, Oh, damn the Nonsense! wou’d be all my own.
SirChar. ‘Tis she, by Heaven! [Aside.] Methinks this Widow shou’d prove a good Income to you, as things now stand between you and your Uncle.
Wild. Ah,Charles, but I am otherways dispos’d of. There is the most charming pretty thing in nature fallen in love with this Person of mine, a rich City-Heiress,Charles, and I have her in possession.
SirChar. How can you love two at once? I’ve been as wild and as extravagant, as Youth and Wealth cou’d render me; but ne’er arrived to that degree of Leudness, to deal my Heart about: my Hours I might, but Love shou’d be intire.
Wild. Ah,Charles, two such bewitching Faces wou’d give thy Heart the lye:—But Love divides us, and I must into Church. Adieu till Night. [Exit.
SirChar. And I must follow, to resolve my Heart in what it dreads to learn. Here, my Cloke. [Takes his Cloke from his Man, and puts it on.] Hah, Church is done! See, they are coming forth!
Enter People cross the Stage, as from Church; amongst ‘em SirAnthony Meriwill,follow’d by SirTimothy Treat-all.
Hah, my Uncle! He must not see me here.[Throws his Cloke over his Face.
SirTim. What my old Friend and Acquaintance, Sir Anthony Meriwill!
SirAnth. SirTimothy Treat-all!
SirTim. Why, how long have you been in Town, Sir?
SirAnth. About three days, Sir.
SirTim. Three days, and never came to dine with me! ‘tis unpardonable! What, you keep close to the Church, I see: You are for the Surplice still, old Orthodox you; the Times cannot mend you, I see.
SirAnth. No, nor shall they mar me, Sir.
SirChar. They are discoursing; I’ll pass by. [Aside. [Ex. SirCharles.
SirAnth. As I take it, you came from Church too.
SirTim. Ay, needs must when the Devil drives. I go to save my Bacon, as they say, once a Month, and that too after the Porridge is serv’d up.
SirAnth. Those that made it, Sir, are wiser than we. For my part, I love good wholesom Doctrine, that teaches Obedience to the King and Superiors, without railing at the Government, and quoting Scripture for Sedition, Mutiny and Rebellion. Why here was a jolly Fellow this Morning made a notable Sermon. By George, our Country-Vicars are mere Scholars to your Gentlemen Town-Parsons! Hah, how he handled the Text, and run Divisions upon’t! ‘twould make a Man sin with moderation, to hear how he claw’d away the Vices of the Town, Whoring, Drinking, and Conventicling, with the rest of the deadly number.
SirTim. Good lack! an he were so good at Whoring and Drinking, you’d best carry your Nephew, SirCharles Meriwill, to Church; he wants a little documentizing that way.
SirAnth. Hum! you keep your old wont still; a Man can begin noDiscourse to you, be it of Prester John, but you still conclude with myNephew.
SirTim. Good Lord! Sir Anthony, you need not be so purty; what I say, is the Discourse of the whole City, how lavishly you let him live, and give ill Examples to all young Heirs.
SirAnth. The City! The City’s a grumbling, lying, dissatisfy’d City, and no wise or honest Man regards what it says. Do you, or any of the City, stand bound to his Scrivener or Taylor? He spends what I allow him, Sir, his own; and you’re a Fool, or Knave, chuse ye whether, to concern your self.
SirTim. Good lack! I speak but what wiser Men discourse.
SirAnth. Wiser Men! wiser Coxcombs. What, they wou’d have me train my Nephew up, a hopeful Youth, to keep a Merchant’s Book, or send him to chop Logick in an University, and have him returned an arrant learned Ass, to simper, and look demure, and start at Oaths and Wenches, whilst I fell his Woods, and grant Leases: And lastly, to make good what I have cozen’d him of, force him to marry Mrs. Crump, the ill-favour’d Daughter of some Right Worshipful.—A Pox of all of such Guardians!
SirTim. Do, countenance Sin and Expenccs, do.
SirAnth. What Sin, what Expences? He wears good Clothes, why,Trades-men get the more by him; he keeps his Coach, ‘tis for his Ease;A Mistress, ‘tis for his Pleasure; he games, ‘tis for his Diversion: Andwhere’s the harm of this? is there ought else you can accuse him with?
SirTim. Yes,—a Pox upon him, he’s my Rival too. [Aside.Why then I’ll tell you, Sir, he loves a Lady.
SirAnth. If that be a Sin, Heaven help the Wicked!
SirTim. But I mean honourably—
SirAnth. Honourably! why do you know any Infirmity in him, why he shou’d not marry? [Angrily.
SirTim. Not I, Sir.
SirAnth. Not you, Sir? why then you’re an Ass, Sir—But is this Lady young and handsom?
SirTim. Ay, and rich too, Sir.
SirAnth. No matter for Money, so she love the Boy.
SirTim. Love him! No, Sir, she neither does, nor shall love him.
SirAnth. How, Sir, nor shall love him! ByGeorge, but she shall, and lie with him too, if I please, Sir.
SirTim. How, Sir! lie with a rich City-Widow, and a Lady, and to be married to a fine Reverend old Gentleman within a day or two?
SirAnth. His Name, Sir, his Name; I’ll dispatch him presently.[Offers to draw.
SirTim. How, Sir, dispatch him!—Your Servant, Sir.[Offers to go.
SirAnth. Hold, Sir! by this abrupt departure, I fancy you the Boy’s Rival: Come, draw. [Draws.
SirTim. How, draw, Sir!
SirAnth. Ay, draw, Sir; not my Nephew have the Widow!
SirTim. With all my Soul, Sir; I love and honour your Nephew. I his Rival! alas, Sir, I’m not so fond of Cuckoldom. Pray, Sir, let me see you and SirCharlesat my House, I may serve him in this business; and so I take my leave, Sir—Draw quoth-a! Pox upon him for an old Tory-rory. [Aside.
[Exit.
Enter as from Church, L. Galliard, Closet,and Footman: Wildingpasses carelessly by her, SirCharles Meriwillfollowing, wrapt up in his Cloke.
SirAnth. Who’s here?Charlesmuffled in a Cloke peering after aWoman?My own Boy to a Hair! She’s handsom too. I’ll step aside; for I must seethe meaning on’t.[Goes aside.
L.Gal. Bless me! how unconcern’d he pass’d!
Clos. He bow’d low, Madam.
L.Gal. But ‘twas in such a fashion, as exprest Indifferency, much worse than Hate fromWilding.
Clos. Your Ladyship has us’d him ill of late; yet if your Ladyship please, I’ll call him back.
L.Gal. I’ll die first—Hah, he’s going! Yet now I think on’t I have aToy of his, which to express my scorn, I’ll give him back now—this Ring.
Clos. Shall I carry it, Madam?
L.Gal. You’ll not express Disdain enough in the Delivery; and you may call him back.
[Clos.goes toWild.
SirChar. By Heaven, she’s fond of him. [Aside.
Wild. Oh, Mrs. Closet! is it you?—Madam, your Servant: By this Disdain, I fear your Woman, Madam, has mistaken her Man. Wou’d your Ladyship speak with me?
L.Gal. Yes.—But what? the God of Love instruct me. [Aside.
Wild. Command me quickly, Madam; for I have business.
L.Gal. Nay, then I cannot be discreet in Love. [Aside.—Your business once was Love, nor had no idle hoursTo throw away on any other thought;You lov’d, as if you had no other Faculties,As if you’d meant to gain eternal Bliss,By that Devotion only: And see how now you’re chang’d.
Wild. Not I, by Heaven; ‘tis you are only chang’d.I thought you’d lov’d me too, curse on the dull mistake!But when I beg’d to reap the mighty JoyThat mutual Love affords,You turn’d me off from Honour,That Nothing, fram’d by some old sullen Maid,That wanted Charms to kindle Flames when young.
SirAnth. By George, he’s i’th’ right. [Aside.
SirChar. Death! can she hear this Language? [Aside.
L.Gal. How dare you name this to me any more?Have you forgot my Fortune, and my Youth,My Quality, and Fame?
Wild. No, by Heaven, all these increase my Flame.
L.Gal. Perhaps they might, but yet I wonder whereYou got the boldness to approach me with it.
Wild. Faith, Madam, from your own encouragement.
L.Gal. From mine! Heavens, what Contempt is this?
Wild. When first I paid my Vows, (good Heaven forgive me)They were for Honour all;But wiser you, thanks to your Mother’s care too,Knowing my Fortune an uncertain hope,My Life of Scandal, and my leud Opinion,Forbad me wish that way; ‘twas kindly urg’d;You cou’d not then forbid my Passion too,Nor did I ever from your Lips or EyesReceive the cruel Sentence of my Death.
SirAnth. Gad, a fine Fellow this!
L.Gal. To save my Life, I wou’d not marry thee.
Wild. That’s kindly said. But to save mine, thou’t do a kinder thing; —I know thou wo’t.
L.Gal. What, yield my Honour up!And after find it sacrific’d anew,And made the scorn of a triumphing Wife!
SirAnth. Gad, she’s i’th’ right too! a noble Girl I’ll warrant her.
L.Gal. But you disdain to satisfy these fears;And like a proud and haughty Conqueror,Demand the Town, without the least Conditions.
SirChar. By Heaven, she yields apace. [Aside.
Sir. Anth. Pox on’t, wou’d I had ne’er seen her; now I have Legions of small Cupids at Hot-cockles in my Heart.
Wild. Now I am pausing on that word Conditions.Thou say’st thou wou’t not have me marry thee;That is, as if I lov’d thee for thy EyesAnd put ‘em out to hate thee;Or like our Stage-smitten Youth, who fall in Love with aWoman for acting finely, and by taking her off the Stage,deprive her of the only Charm she had,Then leave her to ill Luck.
SirAnth. Gad, he’s i’th’ right again too! a rare Fellow!
Wild. For, Widow, know, hadst thou more Beauty, yet not all of ‘em were half so great a Charm as they not being mine.
SirAnth. Hum! how will he make that out now?
Wild. The stealths of Love, the midnight kind Admittance,The gloomy Bed, the soft breath’d murmuring Passion;Ah, who can guess at Joys thus snatch’d by parcels?The difficulty makes us always wishing,Whilst on thy part, Fear makes still some resistance;And every Blessing seems a kind of Rape.
SirAnth. H’as don’t!—A Divine Fellow that; just of my Religion. I am studying now whether I was never acquainted with his Mother. [L. Gal.walks away. Wild.follows.
L.Gal. Tempt me no more! what dull unwary FlamePossest me all this while! Confusion on thee, [In Rage.And all the Charms that dwell upon thy Tongue.Diseases ruin that bewitching Form,That with the soft feign’d Vows debaucht my Heart.
SirChar. Heavens! can I yet endure! [Aside.
L.Gal. By all that’s good, I’ll marry instantly;Marry, and save my last Stake, Honour, yet,Or thou wilt rook me out of all at last.
Wild. Marry! thou canst not do a better thing;There are a thousand Matrimonial Fops,Fine Fools of Fortune,Good-natur’d Blockheads too, and that’s a wonder.
L.Gal. That will be manag’d by a Man of Wit.
Wild. Right.
L.Gal. I have an eye upon a Friend of yours.
Wild. A Friend of mine! then he must be my Cuckold.
SirChar. Very fine! can I endure yet more? [Aside.
L.Gal. Perhaps it is your Uncle.
Wild. Hah, my Uncle! [SirCharlesmakes up to ‘em.
SirAnth. Hah, myCharles! why, well said,Charles, he bore up briskly to her.
SirChar. Ah, Madam, may I presume to tell you—
SirAnth. Ah, Pox, that was stark naught! he begins like a Fore-man o’th’ Shop, to his Master’s Daughter.
Wild. How,Charles Meriwillacquainted with my Widow!
SirChar. Why do you wear that scorn upon your Face?I’ve nought but honest meaning in my Passion,Whilst him you favour so profanes your Beauties,In scorn of Marriage and Religious Rites,Attempts the ruin of your sacred Honour.
L.Gal. Hah,Wildingboast my Love! [Aside.
SirAnth. The Devil take him, my Nephew’s quite spoil’d!Why, what a Pox has he to do with Honour now?
L.Gal. Pray leave me, Sir.—
Wild. Damn it, since he knows all, I’ll boldly own my flame. You take a liberty I never gave you, Sir.
SirChar. How, this from thee! nay, then I must take more.And ask you where you borrow’d that Brutality,T’ approach that Lady with your saucy Passion.
SirAnth. Gad, well done,Charles! here must be sport anon.
Wild. I will not answer every idle Question.
SirChar. Death, you dare not.
Wild. How, dare not!
SirChar. No, dare not; for if you did—
Wild. What durst you, if I did?
SirChar. Death, cut your Throat, Sir.[Taking hold on him roughly.
SirAnth. Hold, hold, let him have fair play, and then curse him that parts ye. [Taking ‘em asunder, they draw.
L.Gal. Hold, I command ye, hold!
SirChar. There rest my Sword to all Eternity.[Lays his Sword at her Feet.
L.Gal. Now I conjure ye both, by all your Honour,If you were e’er acquainted with that Virtue,To see my Face no more,Who durst dispute your Interest in me thus,As for a common Mistress, in your Drink.
[She goes out, and all butWild.SirAnth.andSir Char, who stands sadly looking after her.
SirAnth. A Heavenly Girl!—Well, now she’s gone, by George, I am for disputing your Title to her by dint of Sword.
SirChar. I wo’not fight.
Wild. Another time will decide it, Sir. [Wild,goes out.
SirAnth. After your whining Prologue, Sir, who the Devil would have expected such a Farce?—Come,Charles, take up thy sword,Charles; and d’ye hear forget me this Woman.—
SirChar. Forget her, Sir! there never was a thing so excellent!
SirAnth. You lye, Sirrah, you lye, there’s a thousandAs fair, as young, and kinder by this day.We’ll into th’ Country,Charles, where every GroveAffords us rustick Beauties,That know no Pride nor Painting,And that will take it and be thankful,Charles;Fine wholesom Girls that fall like ruddy Fruit,Fit for the gathering,Charles.
SirChar. Oh, Sir, I cannot relish the coarse Fare.But what’s all this, Sir, to my present Passion?
SirAnth. Passion, Sir! you shall have no Passion, Sir.
SirChar. No Passion, Sir! shall I have Life and Breath?
SirAnth. It may be not, Sirrah, if it be my will and pleasure.—Why how now! saucy Boys be their own Carvers?
Sir Char. Sir, I am all Obedience. [Bowing and sighing.
SirAnth. Obedience! Was ever such a Blockhead! Why then, if I command it, you will not love this Woman?
SirChar. No, Sir.
SirAnth. No, Sir! But I say, Yes, Sir, love her me; and love her me like a Man too, or I’ll renounce ye, Sir.
SirChar. I’ve try’d all ways to win upon her Heart,Presented, writ, watcht, fought, pray’d, kneel’d, and wept.
SirAnth. Why, there’s it now; I thought so: kneel’dand wept! a Pox upon thee—I took thee for a prettier Fellow—You shou’d have huft and bluster’d at her door,Been very impudent and saucy, Sir,Leud, ruffling, mad; courted at all hours and seasons;Let her not rest, nor eat, nor sleep, nor visit.Believe me,Charles, Women love Importunity.Watch her close, watch her like a Witch, Boy,Till she confess the Devil in her,—Love.
SirChar. I cannot, Sir,Her Eyes strike such an awe into my Soul—
SirAnth. Strike such a Fiddle-stick.—Sirrah, I say, do’t; what, you can towse a Wench as handsomely—You can be leud enough upon occasion. I know not the Lady, nor her Fortune; but I’m resolv’d thou shalt have her, with practising a little Courtship of my Mode.—Come—Come, my BoyCharles, since thou must needs be doing, I’ll shew thee how to go a Widow-wooing.
EnterCharlot, Foppington,andClacket.
Charl. Enough, I’ve heard enough ofWilding’sVices, to know I am undone. [Weeps. —Galliardhis Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her fam’d for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous.
Fop. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty LadyGalliard, even in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant.
Charl. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence!
Mrs.Clack. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr.Foppington’sInformation; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time.
Charl. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend, Mr.Wilding.
Mrs.Clack. Ah, that ever I shou’d live to see [Weeps] the sole Daughter and Heir of SirNicholas Gett-all, ran away with one of the leudest Heathens about Town!
Charl. How, your Friend, Mr.Wilding, a Heathen; and with you too, Mrs.Clacket! that Friend, Mr.Wilding, who thought none so worthy as Mrs.Clacket, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he a Heathen!
Mrs.Clack. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. ‘Slife, if you must marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason—Why, here’s Mr.Foppington, Madam; here’s a Shape, here’s a Face, a Back as strait as an Arrow, I’ll warrant.
Charl. How! buy him Breeches! HasWildingthen no Fortune?
Fop. Yes, Faith, Madam, pretty well; so, so, as the Dice run; and now and then he lights upon a Squire, or so, and between fair and foul Play, he makes a shift to pick a pretty Livelihood up.
Charl. How! does his Uncle allow him no present Maintenance?
Fop. No, nor future Hopes neither: Therefore, Madam, I hope you will see the Difference between him and a Man of Parts, that adores you. [Smiling and bowing.
Charl. If I find all this true you tell me, I shall know how to value my self and those that love me.—This may be yet a Rascal.
Enter Maid.
Maid. Mistress, Mr.Wilding’sbelow. [Exit.
Fop. Below! Oh, Heaven, Madam, do not expose me to his Fury, for being too zealous in your Service. [In great Disorder.
Charl. I will not let him know you told any thing, Sir.
Fop. Death! to be seen here, would expose my Life. [ToClacket.
Mrs.Clack. Here, here, step out upon the Stair-case, and slip into my Chamber. [Going out, returns in fright.
Fop. Owns, he’s here; lock the Door fast; let him not enter.
Mrs.Clack. Oh, Heavens, I have not the Key! hold it, hold it fast, sweet, sweet Mr.Foppington. Oh, should there be Murder done, what a Scandal wou’d that be to the House of a true Protestant! [Knocks.
Charl. Heavens! what will he say or think, to see me shut in with a Man?
Mrs.Clack. Oh, I’ll say you’re sick, asleep, or out of Humour.
Charl. I’d give the World to see him. [Knocks.
Wild. [Without,]Charlot, Charlot! am I deny’d an entrance? By Heaven, I’ll break the Door. [Knocks again; Fop.still holding it.
Fop. Oh, I’m a dead Man, dear Clacket! [Knocking still.
Mrs.Clack. Oh, hold, Sir, Mrs.Charlotis very sick.
Wild. How, sick, and I kept from her!
Mrs.Clack. She begs you’ll come again an Hour hence.
Wild. Delay’d! by Heaven, I will have entrance.
Fop. Ruin’d! undone! for if he do not kill me, he may starve me.
Mrs.Clack. Oh, he will not break in upon us! Hold, Sir, hold a little; Mrs.Charlotis just—just—shifting her self, Sir; you will not be so uncivil as to press in, I hope, at such a Time.
Charl. I have a fine time on’t, between ye, to have him think I am stripping my self before Mr.Foppington—Let go, or I’ll call out and tell him all.
[Wild,breaks open the Door and rushes in: Fop.stands close up at the entrance till he is past him, then venturing to slip out, findsWild,has made fast the Door: so he is forc’d to return again and stand close up behindWild.with signs of Fear.
Wild. How now,Charlot, what means this new Unkindness? what, not a Word?
Charl. There is so little Musick in my Voice, you do not care to hear it: you have been better entertain’d, I find, mightily employ’d, no doubt.
Wild. Yes, faith, and so I have,Charlot: damn’d Business, that Enemy to Love, has made me rude.
Charl. Or that other Enemy to Love, damn’d Wenching.
Wild. Wenching! how ill hast thou tim’d thy Jealousy! What Banker, that to morrow is to pay a mighty Sum, wou’d venture out his Stock to day in little Parcels, and lose his Credit by it?
Charl. You wou’d, perfidious as you are, though all your Fortune, all your future Health, depended on that Credit. [Angry.
Wild. So, hark ye, Mrs. Clacket, you have been prating I find in my Absence, giving me a handsom Character toCharlot—You hate any good thing shou’d go by your own Nose. [Aside toClacket.
Mrs.Clack. By my Nose, Mr.Wilding! I defy you: I’d have you to know, I scorn any good thing shou’d go by my Nose in an uncivil way.
Wild. I believe so.
Mrs.Clack. Have I been the Confident to all your Secrets this three years, in Sickness and in Health, for richer, for poorer; conceal’d the Nature of your wicked Diseases, under the honest Name of Surfeits; call’d your filthy Surgeons, Mr. Doctor, to keep up your Reputation; civilly receiv’d your t’other end of the Town young Relations at all Hours—
Wild. High!
Mrs.Clack. Been up with you, and down with you early and late, by Night and by Day; let you in at all Hours, drunk and sober, single and double; and civilly withdrawn, and modestly shut the Door after me?
Wild. What! The Storm’s up, and the Devil cannot lay it.
Mrs.Clack. And I am thus rewarded for my Pains! [Weeps.
Wild. So Tempests are allay’d by Showers of Rain.
Mrs.Clack. That I shou’d be charg’d with speaking ill of you, so honest, so civil a Gentleman—
Charl. No, I have better Witness of your Falshood.
Fop. Hah, ‘Sdeath, she’ll name me!
Wild. What mean you, myCharlot? Do you not think I love you?
Charl. Go ask my LadyGalliard, she keeps the best Account of all your Sighs and Vows, And robs me of my dearest softer Hours. [Kindly to him.
Mrs.Clack. You cannot hold from being kind to him. [Aside.
_Wild.Galliard! How came she by that Secret of my Life? [Aside.] Why, ay, ‘tis true, I am there sometimes about an Arbitration, about a Suit in Law, about my Uncle.
Charl. Ay, that Uncle too—You swore to me you were your Uncle’s Heir;But you perhaps may chance to get him one,If the Lady prove not cruel.
Wild. Death and the Devil, what Rascal has been prating to her! [Aside.
Charl. Whilst I am reserv’d for a dead Lift, if Fortune prove unkind, or wicked Uncles refractory: Yet I cou’d love you though you were a Slave, [In a soft Tone to him. And I were Queen of all the Universe.
Mrs.Clack. Ay, there you spoil’d all again—you forgot your self.
Charl. And all the World when he looks kindly on me. But I’ll take Courage and be very angry. [Aside. Nor do your Perjuries rest here; you’re equally as false toGalliard, as to me; false for a little Mistress of the Town, whom you’ve set up in spite to Quality. [Angry.
Mrs.Clack. So, that was home and handsom.
Wild. What damn’d Informer does she keep in pension?
Charl. And can you think my Fortune and my YouthMerits no better Treatment? [Angry.How cou’d you have the Heart to use me so? [Soft to him.I fall insensibly to Love and Fondness. [Aside.
Wild. Ah, my dearCharlot! you who know my Heart, can you believe me false?
Charl. In every Syllable, in every Look;Your Vows, your Sighs, and Eyes, all counterfeit.You said you lov’d me, where was then your Truth?You swore you were to be your Uncle’s Heir;Where was your Confidence of me the while.To think my Generosity so scanted,To love you for your Fortune?—How every Look betrays my yielding Heart! [Aside.No, since Men are grown so cunning in theirTrade of Love, the necessary Vice I’ll practise too,And chaffer with Love-Merchants for my Heart.Make it appear you are your Uncle’s Heir,I’ll marry ye to morrow.Of all thy Cheats, that was the most unkind,Because you thought to conquer by that Lye.To night I’ll be resolv’d.
Wild. Hum! to night!
Charl. To night, or I will think you love me for my Fortune;Which if you find elsewhere to more advantage,I may unpitied die—and I shou’d dieIf you should prove untrue. [Tenderly to him.
Mrs.Clack. There you’ve dasht all again.
Wild. I’m resolv’d to keep my Credit with her—Here’s my Hand;This Night,Charlot, I’ll let you see the Writings.—But how? a Pox on him that knows forThomas. [Aside.
Charl. Hah! that Hand without the Ring! Nay, never study for a handsom Lye.
Wild. Ring? Oh, ay, I left it in my Dressing-room this Morning.
Charl. See how thou hast inur’d thy Tongue to falshood!Did you not send it to a certain CreatureThey callDiana,From off that Hand that plighted Faith to me?
Wild. By Heaven, ‘tis Witchcraft all; Unless this VillainFoppingtonbetray me. Those sort of Rascals would do any thing For ready Meat and Wine—I’ll kill the Fool—hah, here! [Turns quick, and sees him behind him.
Fop. Here, Lord! Lord! Where were thy Eyes, dearWilding?
Wild. Where they have spy’d a Rascal. Where was this Property conceal’d?
Fop. Conceal’d! What dost thou mean, dearTom? Why, I stood as plain as the Nose on thy Face, mun.
Wild. But ‘tis the ungrateful Quality of all your sort to make suchbase returns.How got this Rogue Admittance, and when in,The Impudence to tell his treacherous Lyes?
Fop. Admittance! why thou art stark mad: Did not I come in with you, that is, follow’d you?
Wild. Whither?
Fop. Why, into the House, up stairs, stood behind you when you swore you wou’d come in, and follow’d you in!
Wild. All this, and I not see!
Fop. Oh, Love’s blind; but this Lady saw me, Mrs.Clacketsaw me— Admittance quotha!
Wild. Why did you not speak?
Fop. Speak! I was so amaz’d at what I heard, the villanous Scandals laid on you by some pick-thank Rogue or other, I had no Power.
Wild. Ay, thou know’st how I am wrong’d.
Fop. Oh, most damnably, Sir!
Wild. Abuse me to my Mistress too!
Fop. Oh, Villains! Dogs!
Charl. Do you think they have wrong’d him, Sir? For I’ll believe you.
Fop. Do I think, Madam? Ay, I think him a Son of a Whore that said it; and I’ll cut his Throat.
Mrs.Clack. Well, this Impudence is a heavenly Virtue.
Wild. You see now, Madam, how Innocence may suffer.
Charl. In spite of all thy villanous dissembling, I must believe, and love thee for my quiet.
Wild. That’s kind; and if before to morrow I do not shew you I deserve your Heart, kill me at once by quitting me—Farewel—I know where both my Uncle’s Will and other Writings lie, by which he made me Heir to his whole Estate. My Craft will be in catching; which if past, Her Love secures me the kind Wench at last. [Aside. [Goes out withFop.
Mrs.Clack. What if he should not chance to keep his Word now?
Charl. How, if he shou’d not! by all that’s good, if he shou’d not, I am resolv’d to marry him however. We two may make a pretty Shift with three thousand Pound a year; yet I wou’d fain be resolv’d how Affairs stand between the old Gentleman and him. I wou’d give the World to see that Widow too, that LadyGalliard.
Mrs.Clack. If you’re bent upon’t, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Madam; There’s every Day mighty Feasting here at his Uncle’s hard by, and you shall disguise your self as well as you can, and so go for a Niece of mine I have coming out of Scotland; there you will not fail of seeing my LadyGalliard, though, I doubt, not Mr.Wilding, who is of late discarded.
Charl. Enough; I am resolv’d upon this Design; let’s in and practise the northern Dialect.
[Ex. both.
EnterWildingandFoppington.
Wild. But thenDianatook the Ring at last?
Fop. Greedily, but rail’d, and swore, and ranted at your late Unkindness, and wou’d not be appeas’d.
EnterDresswell.
Wild. Dresswell, I was just going to see for thee.
Dres. I’m glad, dearTom, I’m here to serve thee.
Wild. And now I’ve found thee, thou must along with me.
Dres. Whither? but I’ll not ask, but obey.
Wild. To a kind Sinner,Frank.
Dres. Pox on ‘em all; prithee turn out those petty Tyrants of thy Heart, and fit it for a Monarch, Love, dearWilding, of which them never knew’st the Pleasure yet or not above a day.
Wild. Not knew the Pleasure! Death, the very Essence the first Draughts of Love. Ah, how pleasant ‘tis to drink when a Man’s a dry! The rest is all but dully sipping on.
Dres. And yet thisDiana, for thither thou art going, thou hast been constant to this three or four Years.
Wild. A constant Keeper thou mean’st; which is indeed enough to get the Scandal of a Coxcomb: But I know not, those sort of Baggages have a kind of Fascination so inticing—and faith, after the Fatigues of formal Visits to a Man’s dull Relations, or what’s as bad, to Women of Quality; after the busy Afflictions of the Day, and the Debauches of the tedious Night, I tell thee,Frank, a Man’s best Retirement is with a soft kind Wench. But to say Truth, I have a farther Design in my Visit now. Thou know’st how I stand past hope of Grace, excommunicated the Kindness of my Uncle.
Dres. True.
Wild. My leud Debauches, and being o’th’ wrong Party, as he calls it, is now become anirreconcilableQuarrel, so that I having many and hopeful Intrigues now depending, especially those of my charming Widow, and my City-Heiress, which can by no means be carried on without that damn’d necessary call’d ready Mony; I have stretcht my Credit, as all young Heirs do, till ‘tis quite broke. New Liveries, Coaches, and Clothes must be had, they must, my Friend.
Dres. Why do’st thou not in this Extremity clap up a Match with my LadyGalliard? or this young Heiress you speak of?
Wild. But Marriage,Frank, is such a Bugbear! And this old Uncle of mine may one day be gathered together, and sleep with his Fathers, and then I shall have six thousand Pound a Year, and the wide World before me; and who the Devil cou’d relish these Blessings with the clog of a Wife behind him?—But till then, Money must be had, I say.
Fop. Ay, but how, Sir?
Wild. Why, from the old Fountain,Jack, my Uncle; he has himself decreed it: He tells me I must live upon my Wits, and will,Frank.
Fop. Gad, I’m impatient to know how.
Wild. I believe thee, for thou art out at Elbows; and when I thrive, you show it i’th’ Pit, behind the Scenes, and at Coffee-houses. Thy Breeches give a better account of my Fortune, than Lilly with all his Schemes and Stars.
Fop. I own I thrive by your influence, Sir.
Dres. Well, but to your Project, Friend, to which I’ll set a helping Hand, a Heart, a Sword, and Fortune.
Wild. You make good what my Soul conceives of you. Let’s toDianathen, and there I’ll tell thee all. [Going out, they meetDiana,who enters with her MaidBetty,and Boy, looks angrily. —Diana, I was just going to thy Lodgings!
Dia. Oh, las, you are too much taken up with your rich City-Heiress.
Wild. That’s no cause of quarrel between you and I,Diana: you were wont to be as impatient for my marrying, as I for the Death of my Uncle; for your rich Wife ever obliges her Husband’s Mistress; and Women of your sort,Diana, ever thrive better by Adultery than Fornication.
Dia. Do, try to appease the easy Fool with these fine Expectations—No, I have been too often flatter’d with the hopes of your marrying a rich Wife, and then I was to have a Settlement; but instead of that, things go backward with me, my Coach is vanish’d, my Servants dwindled into one necessary Woman and a Boy, which to save Charges, is too small for any Service; my twenty Guineas a Week, into forty Shillings; a hopeful Reformation!
Wild. Patience,Diana, things will mend in time.
Dia. When, I wonder? Summer’s come, yet I am still in my embroider’d Manteau, when I’m drest, lin’d with Velvet; ‘twould give one a Fever but to look at me: yet still I am flamm’d off with hopes of a rich Wife, whose Fortune I am to lavish.—But I see you have neither Conscience nor Religion in you; I wonder what a Devil will become of your Soul for thus deluding me! [Weeps.
Wild. By Heaven, I love thee!
Dia. Love me! what if you do? how far will that go at the Exchange for Point? Will the Mercer take it for current Coin?—But ‘tis no matter, I must love a Wit with a Pox, when I might have had so many Fools of Fortune: but the Devil take me, if you deceive me any longer. [Weeping.
Wild. You’ll keep your word, no doubt, now you have sworn.
Dia. So I will. I never go abroad, but I gain new Conquests. Happy’s the Man that can approach nearest the Side-box where I sit at a Play, to look at me; but if I deign to smile on him, Lord, how the overjoy’d Creature returns it with a Bow low as the very Benches; Then rising, shakes his Ears, looks round with Pride, to see who took notice how much he was in favour with charming Mrs.Dy.
Wild. No more, come, let’s be Friends,Diana; for you and I must manage an Uncle of mine.
Dia. Damn your Projects, I’ll have none of ‘em.
Wild. Here, here’s the best softner of a Woman’s Heart; ‘tis Gold, two hundred Pieces: Go, lay it out, till you shame Quality into plain Silk and Fringe.
Dia. Lord, you have the strangest power of persuasion! Nay, if you buy my Peace, I can afford a Pennyworth.
Wild. So thou canst of anything about thee.
Dia. Well, your Project, my dearTommy?
Wild. Thus then—Thou, dearFrank, shalt to my Uncle, tell him, that SirNicholas Gett-all, as he knows, being dead, and having left, as he knows too, one only Daughter his whole Executrix, Mrs.Charlot, I have by my civil and modest Behaviour, so won upon her Heart, that two Nights since she left her Father’s Country-house atLusuminKent, in spite of all her strict Guards, and run away with me.
Dres. How, wilt thou tell him of it, then?
Wild. Hear me—That I have hitherto secur’d her at a Friend’s House here in the City; but diligent search being now made, dare trust her there no longer: and make it my humble Request by you, my Friend, (who are only privy to this Secret) that he wou’d give me leave to bring her home to his House, whose very Authority will defend her from being sought for there.
Dres. Ay, Sir, but what will come of this, I say?
Wild. Why, a Settlement; you know he has already made me Heir to all he has, after his decease: but for being a wicked Tory, as he calls me, he has after the Writings were made, sign’d, and seal’d, refus’d to give ‘em in trust. Now when he sees I have made my self Master of so vast a Fortune, he will immediately surrender; that reconciles all again.
Dres. Very likely; but wo’t thou trust him with the Woman, Thomas.
Wild. No, here’sDiana, who, as I shall bedizen, shall pass for as substantial an Alderman’s Heiress as ever fell into wicked Hands. He never knew the rightCharlot, nor indeed has any body ever seen her but an old Aunt and Nurse, she was so kept up—And there,Diana, thou shall have a good opportunity to lye, dissemble, and jilt in abundance, to keep thy hand in ure. Prithee, dearDresswell, haste with the News to him.
Dres. Faith, I like this well enough; this Project may take, and I’ll about it. [Goes out.
Wild. Go, get ye home, and trick and betauder your self up like a right City-Lady, rich, but ill-fashion’d; on with all your Jewels, but not a Patch, ye Gypsy, nor no Spanish Paint d’ye hear.
Dia. I’ll warrant you for my part.
Wild. Then before the old Gentleman, you must behave your self very soberly, simple, and demure, and look as prew as at a Conventicle; and take heed you drink not off your Glass at Table, nor rant, nor swear: one Oath confounds our Plot, and betrays thee to be an arrant Drab.
Dia. Doubt not my Art of Dissimulation.
Wild. Go, haste and dress— [Ex. Dian. Bet.and Boy.
Enter LadyGall,andCloset,above in the Balcony;Wild.going out, sees them, stops, and reads a Paper.
Wild. Hah, who’s yonder? the Widow! a Pox upon’t, now have I not power to stir; she has a damn’d hank upon my Heart, and nothing but right down lying with her will dissolve the Charm. She has forbid me seeing her, and therefore I am sure will the sooner take notice of me. [Reads.
Clos. What will you put on to night, Madam? You know you are to sup at SirTimothy Treat-all’s.
L.Gal. Time enough for that; prithee let’s take a turn in thisBalcony, this City-Garden, where we walk to take the fresh Air of theSea-coal Smoak. Did the Footman go back, as I ordered him, to see howWildingand SirCharlesparted?
CIos. He did, Madam, and nothing cou’d provoke SirCharlesto fight after your Ladyship’s strict Commands. Well, I’ll swear he’s the sweetest natur’d Gentleman—has all the advantages of Nature and Fortune: I wonder what Exception your Ladyship has to him.
L.Gal. Some small Exception to his whining Humour; but I think my chiefest dislike is, because my Relations wish it a Match between us. It is not hate to him, but natural contradiction. Hah, is not thatWildingyonder? he’s reading of a Letter sure.
Wild. So, she sees me. Now for an Art to make her lure me up: for though I have a greater mind than she, it shall be all her own; the Match she told me of this Morning with my Uncle, sticks plaguily upon my Stomach; I must break the Neck on’t, or break the Widow’s Heart, that’s certain. If I advance towards the Door now, she frowningly retires; if I pass on, ‘tis likely she may call me. [Advances.
L.Gal. I think he’s passing on,Without so much as looking towards the Window.
Clos. He’s glad of the excuse of being forbidden.
L.Gal. But, Closet, know’st thou not he has abus’d my Fame,And does he think to pass thus unupbraided?Is there no Art to make him look this way?No Trick—Prithee feign to laugh. [Clos.laughs.
Wild. So, I shall not answer to that Call.
L.Gal. He’s going! Ah, Closet, my Fan!—[Lets fall her Fan just as he passes by; hetakes it up, and looks up.Cry mercy, Sir, I am sorry I must trouble you to bring it.
Wild. Faith, so am I; and you may spare my Pains, and send your Woman for’t, I’m in haste.
L.Gal. Then the quickest way will be to bring it.[Goes out of the Balcony withCloset.
Wild. I knew I should be drawn in one way or other.
Enter L. Galliard, Wilding, Closet.To themWilding,delivers the Fan, and is retiring.
L.Gal. Stay, I hear you’re wondrous free of your Tongue, when ‘tis let loose on me.
Wild. Who, I, Widow? I think of no such trifles.
L.Gal. Such Railers never think when they’re abusive; but something you have said, a Lye so infamous!
Wild. A Lye, and infamous of you! impossible! What was it that I call’d you, Wise or Honest?
L.Gal. How can you accuse me with the want of either?
Wild. Yes, of both: Had you a grain of Honesty, or intended ever to be thought so, wou’d you have the impudence to marry an old Coxcomb, a Fellow that will not so much as serve you for a Cloke, he is so visibly and undeniably impotent?
L.Gal. Your Uncle you mean.
Wild. I do, who has not known the Joy of Fornication this thirty Year, and now the Devil and you have put it into his Head to marry, forsooth. Oh, the Felicity of the Wedding-Night!
L.Gal. Which you, with all your railing Rhetorick, shall not have power to hinder.
Wild. Not if you can help it; for I perceive you are resolved to be a leud incorrigible Sinner, and marry’st this seditious doting Fool my Uncle, only to hang him out for the sign of the Cuckold, to give notice where Beauty is to be purchas’d, for fear otherwise we should mistake, and think thee honest.
L.Gal. So much for my want of Honesty; my Wit is the part of the Text you are to handle next.
Wild. Let the World judge of that by this one Action: This Marriage undisputably robs you both of your Reputation and Pleasure. Marry an old Fool, because he’s rich! when so many handsome proper younger Brothers wou’d be glad of you.
L.Gal. Of which hopeful number your self are one.
Wild. Who, I! Bear witness, Closet; take notice I’m upon my Marriage, Widow, and such a Scandal on my Reputation might ruin me; therefore have a care what you say.
L.Gal. Ha, ha, ha, Marriage! Yes, I hear you give it out, you are to be married to me: for which Defamation, if I be not reveng’d, hang me.
Wild. Yes, you are reveng’d; I had the fame of vanquishing where’er I laid my Seige, till I knew thee, hard-hearted thee; had the honest Reputation of lying with the Magistrates Wives, when their Reverend Husbands Were employ’d in the necessary Affairs of the Nation, seditiously petitioning: and then I was esteemed; but now they look on me as a monstrous thing, that makes honourable Love to you. Oh, hideous, a Husband Lover! so that now I may protest, and swear, and lye my Heart out, I find neither Credit nor Kindness; but when I beg for either, my LadyGalliard’sthrown in my Dish: Then they laugh aloud, and cry, who wou’d think it of gay, of fine Mr.Wilding? Thus the City She-wits are let loose upon me, and all for you, sweet Widow: but I am resolv’d I will redeem my Reputation again, if never seeing you, nor writing to you more, will do it. And so farewel, faithless and scandalous honest Woman.
L.Gal. Stay, Tyrant.
Wild. I am engag’d.
L.Gal. You are not.
Wild. I am, and am resolv’d to lose no more time on a peevish Woman, who values her Honour above her Lover. [He goes out.
L.Gal. Go, this is the noblest way of losing thee.
Clos. Must I not call him back?
L.Gal. No, if any honest Lover come, admit him; I will forget thisDevil. Fetch me some Jewels; the Company to night at Sir Timothy’s maydivert me.[She sits down before her Glass.
EnterBoy.
Boy. Madam, one, Sir Anthony Meriwill, wou’d speak with your Ladyship.
L.Gal. Admit him; sure ‘tis SirCharleshis Uncle; if he come totreat a Match with me for his Nephew, he takes me in a critical Minute.Wou’d he but leave his whining, I might love him, if ‘twere but inRevenge.