The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

A >> Aphra Behn >> The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30

_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 dear _Tommy_?

_Wild_. Thus then--Thou, dear _Frank_, shalt to my Uncle, tell him, that
Sir _Nicholas 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 at _Lusum_ in _Kent_, 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's _Diana_, who, as I shall bedizen, shall pass for as
substantial an Alderman's Heiress as ever fell into wicked Hands. He
never knew the right _Charlot_, 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, dear _Dresswell_, 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 Lady_ Gall, _and_ Closet, _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
Sir _Timothy Treat-all's_.

L. _Gal_. Time enough for that; prithee let's take a turn in this
Balcony, this City-Garden, where we walk to take the fresh Air of the
Sea-coal Smoak. Did the Footman go back, as I ordered him, to see how
_Wilding_ and Sir _Charles_ parted?

_CIos_. He did, Madam, and nothing cou'd provoke Sir _Charles_ to 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 that _Wilding_
yonder? 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; he
takes 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 with_ Closet.

_Wild_. I knew I should be drawn in one way or other.

SCENE III. _Changes to a Chamber_.

_Enter L_. Galliard, Wilding, Closet. _To them_ Wilding,
_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
Lady _Galliard's_ thrown 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 this
Devil. Fetch me some Jewels; the Company to night at Sir Timothy's may
divert me.
[_She sits down before her Glass_.

_Enter_ Boy.

_Boy_. Madam, one, Sir Anthony Meriwill, wou'd speak with your Ladyship.

L. _Gal_. Admit him; sure 'tis Sir _Charles_ his Uncle; if he come to
treat 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 in
Revenge.

_Enter Sir_ Anthony Meriwill _and Sir_ Charles.

_Sir. Anth_. So, I have tutor'd the young Rogue, I hope he'll learn in
time. Good Day to your Ladyship; _Charles_ [putting him forward] my
Nephew here, Madam--Sirrah--notwithstanding your Ladyship's Commands--
Look how he stands now, being a mad young Rascal!--Gad, he wou'd wait on
your Ladyship--A Devil on him, see if he'll budge now--For he's a brisk
Lover, Madam, when he once begins. A Pox on him, he'll spoil all yet.

L. _Gal_. Please you sit, Sir.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I beg your Pardon for my Rudeness.

L. _Gal_. Still whining?--
[_Dressing her self carelesly_.

Sir _Anth_. D'ye hear that, Sirrah? oh, damn it, beg Pardon! the Rogue's
quite out of's part.

Sir _Char_. Madam, I fear my Visit is unseasonable.

Sir _Anth_. Unseasonable! damn'd Rogue, unseasonable to a Widow?--Quite
out.

L. _Gal_. There are indeed some Ladies that wou'd be angry at an untimely
Visit, before they've put on their best Faces, but I am none of those
that wou'd be fair in spite of Nature, Sir--Put on this Jewel here.
[_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. That Beauty needs no Ornament, Heaven has been too bountiful.

Sir _Anth_. Heaven! Oh Lord, Heaven! a puritanical Rogue, he courts her
like her Chaplain. [_Aside, vext_.

L. _Gal_. You are still so full of University Complements--

Sir _Anth_. D'ye hear that, Sirrah?--Ay, so he is, indeed, Madam--To her
like a Man, ye Knave. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Char_. Ah, Madam, I am come--

Sir _Anth_. To shew your self a Coxcomb.

L. _Gal_. To tire me with Discourses of your Passion--
Fie, how this Curl fits!
[Looking in the Glass.

Sir _Char_. No, you shall hear no more of that ungrateful Subject.

Sir _Anth_. Son of a Whore, hear no more of Love, damn'd Rogue! Madam, by
George, he lyes; he does come to speak of Love, and make Love, and to do
Love, and all for Love--Not come to speak of Love, with a Pox! Owns, Sir,
behave your self like a Man; be impudent, be saucy, forward, bold,
touzing, and leud, d'ye hear, or I'll beat thee before her: why, what a
Pox! [_Aside to him, he minds it not_.

Sir _Char_. Finding my Hopes quite lost in your unequal Favours to young
_Wilding_, I'm quitting of the Town.

L. _Gal_. You will do well to do so--lay by that Necklace, I'll wear
Pearl to day. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Anth_. Confounded Blockhead!--by George, he lyes again, Madam. A
Dog, I'll disinherit him. [_Aside_.] He quit the Town, Madam! no, not
whilst your Ladyship is in it, to my Knowledge. He'll live in the Town,
nay, in the Street where you live; nay, in the House; nay, in the very
Bed, by George; I've heard him a thousand times swear it. Swear it now,
Sirrah: look, look, how he stands now! Why, dear _Charles_, good Boy,
swear a little, ruffle her, and swear, damn it, she shall have none but
thee. [_Aside to him_.] Why, you little think, Madam, that this Nephew
of mine is one of the maddest Fellows in all Devonshire.

L. _Gal_. Wou'd I cou'd see't, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. See't! look ye there, ye Rogue--Why, 'tis all his Fault,
Madam. He's seldom sober; then he has a dozen Wenches in pay, that he may
with the more Authority break their Windows. There's never a Maid within
forty Miles of Meriwill-Hall to work a Miracle on, but all are Mothers.
He's a hopeful Youth, I'll say that for him.

Sir _Char_. How I have lov'd you, my Despairs shall witness: for I will
die to purchase your Content.
[_She rises_.

Sir _Anth_. Die, a damn'd Rogue! Ay, ay, I'll disinherit him: A Dog, die,
with a Pox! No, he'll be hang'd first, Madam.

Sir _Char_. And sure you'll pity me when I'm dead.

Sir _Anth_. A curse on him; pity, with a Pox. I'll give him ne'er a
Souse.

L. _Gal_. Give me that Essence-bottle. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. But for a Recompence of all my Sufferings--

L. _Gal_. Sprinkle my Handkerchief with Tuberose. [_To_ Clos.

Sir _Char_. I beg a Favour you'd afford a Stranger.

L. _Gal_. Sooner, perhaps. What Jewel's that? [_To_ Clos.

_Clos_. One Sir _Charles Merwill_--

L. _Gal_. Sent, and you receiv'd without my Order!
No wonder that he looks so scurvily.
Give him the Trifle back to mend his Humour.

Sir _Anth_. I thank you, Madam, for that Reprimand. Look in that Glass,
Sir, and admire that sneaking Coxcomb's Countenance of yours: a pox on
him, he's past Grace, lost, gone: not a Souse, not a Groat; good b'ye to
you, Sir. Madam, I beg your Pardon; the next time I come a wooing, it
shall be for my self, Madam, and I have something that will justify it
too; but as for this Fellow, if your Ladyship have e'er a small Page at
leisure, I desire he may have Order to kick him down Stairs. A damn'd
Rogue, to be civil now, when he shou'd have behav'd himself handsomely!
Not an Acre, not a Shilling--buy Sir Softhead.
[_Going out meets Wild, and returns_.]
Hah, who have we here, hum, the fine mad Fellow? so, so, he'll swinge
him, I hope; I'll stay to have the pleasure of seeing it done.

_Enter_ Wilding, _brushes by Sir_ Charles.

_Wild_. I was sure 'twas Meriwill's Coach at Door.
[_Aside_.

Sir _Char_. Hah, _Wilding_!

Sir _Anth_. Ay, now, Sir, here's one will waken ye, Sir.
[_To Sir_ Char.

_Wild_. How now, Widow, you are always giving Audience to Lovers, I see.

Sir _Char_. You're very free, Sir.

_Wild_. I am always so in the Widow's Lodgings, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. A rare Fellow!

Sir _Char_. You will not do't elsewhere?

_Wild_. Not with so much Authority.

Sir _Anth_. An admirable Fellow! I must be acquainted with him.

Sir _Char_. Is this the Respect you pay Women of her Quality?

_Wild_. The Widow knows I stand not much upon Ceremonies.

Sir _Anth_. Gad, he shall be my Heir. [_Aside still_.

L. _Gal_. Pardon him, Sir, this is his Cambridge Breeding.

Sir _Anth_. Ay, so 'tis, so 'tis, that two Years there quite spoil'd him.

L. _Gal_. Sir, if you've any further Business with me, speak it; if not,
I'm going forth.

Sir _Char_. Madam, in short--

Sir _Anth_. In short to a Widow, in short! quite lost.

Sir _Char_. I find you treat me ill for my Respect;
And when I court you next,
I will forget how very much I love you.

Sir _Anth_. Sir, I shall be proud of your farther Acquaintance; for I
like, love, and honour you.
[_To_ Wild.

_Wild_. I'll study to deserve it, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. Madam, your Servant. A damn'd sneaking Dog, to be civil and
modest with a Pox!
[_Ex. Sir_ Char, _and Sir_ Anth.

L. _Gal_. See if my Coach be ready.
[_Ex_. CIos.

_Wild_. Whether are you janting now?

L. _Gal_. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle's to Supper.

_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party;
There they all meet and bargain without Scandal:
Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse,
Whig-land offers not such another Market.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Madam, here's Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your
Ladyship to Supper.

_Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, damn him, he was born to be my Plague: not--
Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees
me here, I ruin all the Plots I've laid for him. Ha, he's here.

_Enter Sir_ Tim.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here!

_Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too,
Knowing my Uncle has abandon'd me.

Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what's your Business here?

_Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her
Power and Quality here in the City.

Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he
would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up
with your rich Heiress?

_Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the
Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the
Authority of my Lady _Galliard's_ House to have secur'd her, till I got
things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I
have an Uncle.

L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a
Reprobate thou hast been, I'll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as
not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was
gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service.

_Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and
his Association.
[_Goes out_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below.

[_Exit_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice.

Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir'd, as I
directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all's_
Daughter?

_Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir'd! why, 'tis all the City-News that she's run
away with one of the maddest Tories about Town.

Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Ay, ay, 'tis so; the plaguy Rogue my Nephew has got
her. That Heaven shou'd drop such Blessings in the Mouths of the wicked!
Well, _Jervice_, what Company have we in the House, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Why, truly, Sir, a fine deal, considering there's no Parliament.

Sir _Tim_. What Lords have we, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Lords, Sir, truly none.

Sir _Tim_. None! what, ne'er a Lord! some mishap will befall me, some
dire mischance! Ne'er a Lord! ominous, ominous! our Party dwindles daily.
What, nor Earl, nor Marquess, nor Duke, nor ne'er a Lord! Hum, my Wine
will lie most villanously upon my Hands to Night. _Jervice_, what, have
we store of Knights and Gentlemen?

_Jer_. I know not what Gentlemen there be, Sir; but there are Knights,
Citizens, their Wives and Daughters.

Sir _Tim_. Make us thankful for that; our Meat will not lie upon our
Hands then, _Jervice_: I'll say that for our little Londoners, they are
as tall Fellows at a well-charg'd Board as any in Christendom.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Nonconformist-Parsons.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then we shall have a clear Board; for your true
Protestant Appetite in a Lay-Elder, does a Man's Table Credit.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Country Justices and Grand-Jury-Men.

Sir _Tim_. Well enough, well enough, _Jervice_.

_Enter Mrs_. Sensure.

_Sen_. An't like your Worship, Mr. _Wilding_ is come in with a Lady
richly drest in Jewels, mask'd, in his Hand, and will not be deny'd
speaking with your Worship.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again,
_Jervice_.--Bring 'em up, _Sensure_.--Prithee how do I look to Night,
_Jervice_?
[_Setting himself_.

_Jer_. Oh, most methodically, Sir.

_Enter_ Wild, _with_ Diana, _and_ Betty.

_Wild_. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel
all London can afford, fair Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_.

Sir _Tim_. Bless us, she's ravishing fair! Lady, I had the honour of
being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead--

_Dia_. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all.
[_Aside_.
Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do,
[_weeping_.
I'm sure I cannot answer you one Question.

_Wild_. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare
remembrance of him kills her. [_Aside to him_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, poor Soul! Lady, I beg your Pardon. How soft-hearted she
is! I am in love; I find already a kind of tickling of I know not what,
run frisking through my Veins. [_Aside_.

_Bet_. Ay, Sir, the good Alderman has been dead this twelve-month just,
and has left his Daughter here, my Mistress, three thousand Pound a Year.
[_Weeping_.

Sir _Tim_. Three thousand Pound a Year! Yes, yes, I am in love.
[_Aside_.

_Bet_. Besides Money, Plate, and Jewels.

Sir _Tim_. I'll marry her out of hand, [_Aside_.] Alas, I cou'd even
weep too; but 'tis in vain. Well, Nephew, you may be gone now; for 'tis
not necessary you shou'd be seen here, d'ye see.
[_Pushing him out_.

_Wild_. You see, Sir, now, what Heaven has done for me; and you have
often told me, Sir, when that was kind you wou'd be so. Those Writings,
Sir, by which you were so good to make me Heir to all your Estate, you
said you wou'd put into my possession, whene'er I made it appear to you I
could live without 'em, or bring you a Wife of Fortune home.

Sir _Tim_. And I will keep my word; 'tis time enough.
[_Putting him out_.

_Wild_. I have, 'tis true, been wicked; but I shall now turn from my evil
ways, establish my self in the religious City, and enter into the
Association. There want but these same Writings, Sir, and your good
Character of me.

Sir _Tim_. Thou shalt have both, all in good time, Man: Go, go thy ways,
and I'll warrant thee for a good Character, go.

_Wild_. Ay, Sir, but the Writings, because I told her, Sir, I was your
Heir; nay, forc'd to swear too, before she wou'd believe me.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, alas! how shreudly thou wert put to't!

_Wild_. I told her too, you'd buy a Patent for me; for nothing woos a
City-Fortune like the hopes of a Ladyship.

Sir _Tim_. I'm glad of that; that I can settle on her presently.
[_Aside_.

_Wild_. You may please to hint something to her of my godly Life and
Conversation; that I frequent Conventicles, and am drunk no where but at
your true Protestant Consults and Clubs, and the like.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30