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Val. You see wha disguises love makes us | standing, as drunken men do by overacting a put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes briety. I was half inclining to believe you, till for the same reason; and the divine part of me, accidentally touched upon your tender part. But my mind, has worn this mask of madness, and this now you have restored me to my former opinion motley livery, only as the slave of love, and menial and compassion. creature of your beauty:
Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks !—Poor Va- are any better yet.— Will you please to be mad, lentine!
Sir, or how ? Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one Val. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws to- I'm worth, must pay for the confession of my wards an end; and let us think of leaving acting, senses. I'm mad, and will be mad, to every body and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, but this lady. you must own, I have at length deserved you Jer. So ;just the very back-side of truth. But should confess it.
lying is a figure in speech, that interlards the Ang. (Sighs.] I would I had loved you !—for greatest part of my conversation.—Madam, your Heaven knows, I pity you; and, could I have fore-ladyship’s woman. seen the bad effects, I would have striven; but
Enter JENNY. that 's too late!
Val. What bad effects? what 's too late ?–My Ang. Well, have you been there ?-Come seeming madness has deceived my father, and pro
hither. cured me time to think of means to reconcile me Jenny. Yes, Madam; Sir Sampson will wait to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance upon you presently,
(Aside to Ang to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must Val. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty? this morning have resigned. And this I had in- Ang. Would any thing but a madman complain formed you of to-day, but you were gone before 1 of uncertainty ? Uncertainty and expectation are knew you had been here.
the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing; and Ang. How? I thought your love of me had the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems, the folly of the chase. Never let us know one you only counterfeited for mercenary ends and another better; for the pleasure of a masquerade sordid interest.
is done, when we come to show our faces. But Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any I'll tell you two things before I leave you; I am interest was considered, it was yours; since I not the fool you take me for; and you are mad, and thought I wanted more than love to make me don't know it. (Ereunt ANGELICA and Jenny. worthy of you.
Val. From a riddle you can expect nothing but Ang. Then you thought me mercenary-But a riddle. There's my instruction and the moral how am I deluded by this interval of sense, to of my lesson. reason with a madman?
Jer. What, is the lady gone again, Sir ? I hope Val. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me you understood one another before she went? longer.
Val. Understood! she is harder to be understood
than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or an Irish Enter JEREMY.
manuscript; you may pore till you spoil your eyes,
and not improve your knowledge. Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creature—sure
Jer. I have heard them say, Sir, they read hard he will not have the impudence to persevere !– Hebrew books backwards. May be you begin to Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and con- read at the wrong end ! fess your master's madness counterfeit.
Val. They say so of a witch's prayer; and Jer. Counterfeit, Madam! I'll maintain him to dreams and Dutch almanacks are to be understood be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any by contraries. But there is regularity and method freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as any in that; she is a medal without a reverse or inprojector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe. scription, for indifference has both sides alike. Val. Sirrah, you lie ; I'm not mad.
Yet while she does not seem to hate me, I will Ang. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it. pursue her, and know her if it be possible, in spite
Jer. O Lord, Madam, did you ever know any of the opinion of my satirical friend, who says, madman mad enough to own it ?
That women are like tricks by slight of hand, Val. Sot, can't you apprehend?
Which, to admire, we should not understand. Ang. Why, be talked very sensibly just now.
[Exeunt Jer. Yes, Madam; he has intervals: but you
ACT V. see he begins to look wild again now.
Val. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you SCENE 1.– A Room in FORESIGHT's House. the farce is done, and I'll be mad no longer.
Enter ANGELICA and JENNY.
(Beats him. Ang. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy ? Ang. Where is Sir Sampson ? did you not tell
Jer. Partly, I think.-For he does not know his me he would be here before me? own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just Jenny. He's at the great glass in the diningnow in the humour to be mad: and I think I have room, Madam, setting his cravat and wig. not found him very quiet at the present. [One Ang. How! I'm glad on't.-If he has a mind knocks.) Who's there!
I should like him, it's a sign he likes me; and Val. Go see, you sot. I'm very glad that I can that 's more than half my design. move your mirth, though not your compassion. Jenny. I hear him, Madam.
Ang. I did not think you had apprehension Ang. Leave me; and d’ye hear, if Valentine enough to be exceptious; but madmen show them- should come or send, I'm not to be spoken with. selves most by over-pretending to a sound under.
(Exit JENNY, Enter Sir SAMPSON.
but I would no more be his wife than his enemy,
for his malice is not a more terrible consequence Sir S. I have not been honoured with the com- of his aversion, than his jealousy is of his love. mands of a fair lady a great while.- Oud, Madam, Sir S. None of old Foresight's Sibyls ever you have revived me—not since I was five and uttered such a truth. You have won my heart. I thirty.
hate a wit; I had a son that was spoiled among Ang. Why, you have no great reason to com- them; a good hopeful lad, till he learned to be a plain, Sir Sampson; that 's not long ago. wit—and might have risen in the state.-But,
Sir S. But it is, Madam, a very great while ; a plague on't, his wit ran him out of his money, to a man that admires a fine woman as much as and now his poverty has run him out of his wils. I do.
Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell Ang. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Sampson. you, you are very much abused in that matter-
Sir S. Not at all, Madam. You wrong me: I he's no more mad than you are. am not so old neither, to be a bare courtier, only Sir S. How, Madam! would I could prove it! a man of words. I have warm blood about me Ang. I can tell you how that may be done-but yet, and can serve a lady any way.—Come, come, it is a thing that would make me appear to be toc let me tell you, you women think a man old too much concerned in your affairs. soon, faith you do. Come, don't despise fifty; Sir S. I believe she likes me ! (Aside. —Ah, odd, fifty, in a hale constitution, is no such con- Madam, all my affairs are scarce worthy to be laid temptible age!
at your feet; and I wish, Madam, they were in a Ang. Fifty a contemptible age ! not at all: a better state, that I might make a more becoming very fashionable age, I think, - I assure you, I offer to a lady of your incomparable beauty and know very considereble beaus, that set a good face merit.-If I had Peru in one hand, and Mexico upon fifty.--Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side box, in t'other, and the eastern empire under my feet; by candle light, out-blossom five and twenty. it would make me only a more glorious victim, to
Sir S. Outsides, outsides; a plague take them, be offered at the shrine of your beauty. mere outsides. Hang your side-box beaus; no, Ang. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the mati'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that ter ? pretend to blossom in the fall; and bud when they Sir S. Madam, I love you—and if you would should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-lived race, take my advice in a husbandand inherit vigour. None of my ancestors mar- Ang Hold, hold, Sir Sampson, I asked your ried till fifty; yet they begot sons and daughters advice for a husband, and you are giving me your till fourscore. I am of your patriarchs; I, a branch consent. I was thinking to propose something of one of your Antediluvian families, fellows that like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine : for the flood could not wash away. Well, Madam, if a match were seemingly carried on between you what are your commands ? Has any young and me, it would oblige him to throw off his disrogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat, guise of madness in apprehension of losing me;
for, you know, he has long pretended a passion Ang. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upon for me. my hands-Í have more occasion for your conduct Sir S. Gad, a most ingenious contrivance-if than your courage at this time. To tell you the we were to go through with it! But why must truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a hus- the match only be seemingly carried on? 'Let it band.
be a real contract. Sir S. And it is pity you should !- Would she Ang. O fy, Sir Sampson, what would the world would like me! then I should hamper my young say? rogues: faith, she's devilish handsome! (Aside.) Sir S. Say? They would say you were a wise Madam, you deserve a good husband! and 'twere woman, and I a happy man. Madam, I'll love pity you should be thrown away upon any of you as long as I live; and leave you a good jointhese young idle rogues about the town. There's ture when I die. ne'er a young fellow worth having-that is a very Ang. Ay; but that is not in your power, Sir young fellow-Plague on them, they never think Sampson; for when Valentine confesses himself beforehand and if they commit matrimony, 'tis in his senses, he must make over his inheritance as they commit murder; out of a frolic; and are to his younger brother. ready to hang themselves, or to be hanged by the Sir S. You're cunning; a wary baggage. Faith, law, the next morning. Have a care, Madam. I like you the better. But, I warrant you, I have
Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Samp- a proviso in the obligation in favour of myself. I son ; î have fortune enough to make any man have a trick to turn the settlement upon the issue easy that I can like; if there was such a thing as male of our bodies. Let us find children, and I'll a young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock find an estate. of good-nature and sense—for I would neither Ang. Will you? Well, do you find the estate, have an absolute wit, nor a fool.
and leave the other to me. Sir S. You are hard to please, Madam: to find Sir S. O rogue! but I'll trust you. And will a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own you consent? Is it a match then? eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very Ang. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this hard task. But, faith, you speak very discreetly; obligation; and if I find what you propose pracfor I hate both a wit and a fool.
ticable, I'll give you my answer. Ang. She that marries a fool, Sir Sampson, for- Sir S. With all my heart. Come in with me, feits the reputation of her honesty or understand and I'll lend you the bond. You shall consult ing; and she that marries a very witty man, is a your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. I'm a slave to the severity and insolent conduct of her young man; and I'll make it appear-You're husband. I should like a man of wit for a lover, Jevilisha handsome. Faith, you're very handsome; because I would have such a one in my power: I and I'm very young, and very lusty. Ods, hussy:
you know how to choose; and so do I. I think ! Jer. 'Tis an act of charity, Sir, to save a fine we are very well met. Give me your hand; let me woman with thirty thousand pounds from throwkiss it; 'tis as warm and as soft-as what? odd ing herself away. as t'other hand ;-Give me t'other hand; and I'll Tat. So 'tis faith ; I might have saved several mumble them, till they melt in my mouth. others in my time; but I could never find in my
Ang. Hold, Sir Sampson-You're profuse of heart to marry any body before. your vigour before your time. You'll spend your Jer. Well, Sir, I'll go and tell her my master's estate before you come to it.
coming; and meet you in half a quarter of an Sir S. No, no, only give you a rent roll of my hour, with your disguise, at your lodgings. You possessions-Ah! baggage!—I warrant you for a must talk a little madly; she wont distinguish the little Sampson. Odd, Sampson is a very good tone of your voice. name for an able fellow. Your Sampsons were Tat. No, no, let me alone for a counterfeit. I'll strong dogs from the beginning.
be ready for you.
(Exit JEREMY. Ang. Have a care, and don't over-act your part. If you remember, Sampson, the strongest of the
Enter Miss PRUE. name, pulled an old house over his head at last.
Sir S. Say you so ?-Come, let's go then: I Miss P. O, Mr. Tattle, are you here! I'm long to be pulling too.—Come away- -Here's glad I have found you. I have been looking for somebody coming.
(Ereunt. you, till I'm tired. Enter Tattle and JEREMY.
Tut. O pox ! how shall I get rid of this foolish Tat. Is that not she, gone out just now? Miss P. O, I have great news, I can tell you
Jer. Ay, Sir, she's just going to the place of great news—1 must not marry the seaman now appointment. Ah, Sir, if you are not very faith- My father says so. Why wont you be my hus ful and close in this business, you'll certainly be band? You say you love me! and you wont be the death of a person that has a most extraordi- my husband? And I know you may be roy hus nary passion for your honour's service.
band now, if you please. Tat. Ay, who's that?
Tat. O fy, Miss! who told you so? Jer. Even my unworthy self, Sir. Sir, I have Miss P. Why, my father I told him that had an appetite to be fed with your commands a you loved me. great while-And now, Sir, my former master Tat. O fy, Miss ! why did you do so? and having much troubled the founder of his under- who told you so ? standing, it is a very plausible occasion for me to Miss Who? Why you did ; did not you ? quench my thirst at the spring of your bounty. I Tat. O, that was yesterday; that was a great thought I could not recommend myself better to while ago. I have been asleep since; slept a whole you, Sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty night, and did not so much as dream of the matter. and fortune into your arms, whom I have heard Miss P. Pshaw! O, but I dreamt that it was you sigh for.
so, though. Tač. I'll make thy fortune; say no more. Thou Tat. Ay, but your father will tell you that art a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to a dreams come by contraries. O fy! what
, we lady, in a soft kind of phrase, and with a good must not love one another now. Pshaw, that persuading accent.
would be a foolish thing indeed! Fy, fy, you're Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric, and oratory a woman now, and must think of a new man in my head-1 have been at Cambridge. every morning, and forget him every night. No,
Tat. Ay; 'tis well enough for a servant to be no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with bred at a university; but the education is a little the same rattle always; O fy, marrying is a bad too pedantic for a gentleman. I hope you are thing! secret in your nature, private, close, ha?
Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well Jer. O, Sir, for that, Sir, 'tis my chief talent; as you did last night, then ? I'm as secret as the head of Nilus.
Tat. No, no, you would not have me. Tat. Ay? who's he, though; a privy-coun- Miss P. No? Yes, but I would, though. sellor!
Tat. Pshaw, but I tell you, you would not. Jer. O ignorance! [Aside.)- A cunning Egyp- You forget you are a woman, and don't know your tian, Sir, that with his arms could overrun the own mind. country, yet nobody could ever find out his head- Miss P. But here 's my father, and he knows quarters.
Tat. Close dog! a good debauchee, I warrant him!—The time draws nigh, Jeremy: Angelica
Enter FORESIGHT. will be veiled like a nun; and I must be hooded like a friar: ha, Jeremy?
For. O, Mr. Tattle, your servant, you are a close Jer. Ay, Sir, hooded like a bawk, to seize at man; but methinks your love to my daughter was first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my a secret I might have been trusted with !--or had master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art ? in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to -Hum, ha! I think there is something in your please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have rea- physiognomy that has a resemblance of her : and son to pray for me, when she finds what a happy the girl is like me. change she has made, between a madman and so Tat. And so you would infer that you and I accomplished a gentleman.
are alike- What does the old prig mean? I'll banTat. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy! You're a ter him and laugh at him, and leave him. (Aside.) good friend to her, poor creature !—Í swear I do I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as For. How? what? a wrong notion! how so? coinpassion to her.
Tat. In the way of art, I have soine taking
features, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indi- 11 fear there is a contagious frenzy abroad. How eation of a sudden turn of good fortune, in the does Valentine ? lottery of wives; and promise a great beauty and Scand. O, I hope he will do well again. I have great fortune reserved alone for me, by a private a message from him to your niece Angelica. intrigue of destiny kept secret from the piercing For. I think she has not returned since she eye of perspicuity, from all astrologers, and the went abroad with Sir Sampsol. Nurse, why are stars themselves.
you not gone?
Here's Mr. Benjamin; he can tell us if his father Tat. To be married, Sir-married.
be come home. For. Ay, but pray take me along with you, Sir. Ben. Who? Father? Ay, he's come home
Tat. No, Sir, it is to be done privately—I never with a vengeance. make confidents.
Mrs. For. Why, what's the matter? For. Well; but my consent, I mean-You wont Ben. Matter! Why, he's mad. marry my daughter without my consent ?
For. Mercy on us? I was afraid of this. Tat. Who, 1 Sir? I am an absolute stranger
Ben. And there's a handsome young woman, to you and your daughter, Sir.
she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she's For. Hey-day? What time of the moon is this? mad too, I think.
Tat. Very true, Sir! and desire to continue so. For. O my poor niece! my poor niece! is she I have no more love for your daughter, than I have gone too? Well
, I shall run mad next. bkeness of you: and I have a secret in my heart, Mrs. For. Well, but how mad? how d'ye which you would be glad to know, and sha'n't mean? know: and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess—I'll unfor it afterwards. I'd have you know, Sir, that I dertake to make a voyage to Antigua.
-No, I am as knowing as the stars, and as secret'as the mayn't say so, neither-but I'll sail as far as Legnight. And I'm going to be married just now, horn, and back again, before you shall guess at yet did not know of it half an hour ago; and the the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. take in all the points of the compass, and not hit There's
a mystery for you. I know you love to the right. untie difficulties. Or if you can't solve this, stay
Mrs. For. Your experiment will take up a lithere a quarter of an hour, and I'll come and explain tle too much time. it to you.
(Exit. Ben. Why, then, I'll tell you : there's a new Miss P. O father, why will you let him go? wedding upon the stocks, and they two are going Wont you make him to be my husband ? to be married to rights.
For.' Mercy on us, what do these lunacies por- Scand. Who? tend? Alas! he's mad, stark wild.
Ben. Why, father, and—the young woman; I Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a hus- can't hit her name. band then ? What, must I go to bed to nurse again, Scand. Angelica ? and be a child as long as she 's an old woman? In- Ben. Ay, the same. deed but I wont. For, now my mind is set upon Mrs. For. Sir Sampson and Angelica ? Ima man, I will have a man some way or other. Oh, possible! methinks I'm sick when I think of a man; and if Ben. That may be-but I'm sure it is as I tell I can't have one, I would go to sleep all my life; you. for when I'm awake, it makes me wish and long, Scand. 'Sdeath, it is a jest. I can't believe it. and I don't know for what—and I'd rather al- Ben. Look you, friend; it is nothing to me, ways asleep, than sick with thinking.
whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, For. O fearful! I think the girl's influenced d’ye see they are married, or just going to be too.-Hussy, you shall have a rod.
married, I know not which. Miss P. A fiddle of a rod! I'll have a husband; For. Well
, but they are not mad, that is, not and if you wont get me one, I'll get one for myself
. lunatic ? I'll marry our Robin the butler; he says he loves Ben. I don't know what you may call madness me: and he's a handsome man, and shall be my — but she's mad for a husband, and he's hornhusband: 1 warrant he'll be my husband, and mad, I think, or they'd never make a match to thank me too; for he told me so.
gether.--Here they come. Enter SCANDAL, Mrs. Foresight, and Nurse. Enter Sir SAMPSON, ANGELICA, and Buckram.
For. Did he so ? I'll despatch him for it pre- Sir S. Where is this old soothsayer ? this uncle sently! Rogue !-Oh, Nurse come hither. of mine elect ?-Aha! old Foresight! uncle Fore
Vurse. What is your worship's pleasure ? sight! wish me joy, uncle Foresight; double joy,
For. Here, take your young mistress, and lock both as uncle and astrologer: here's a conjunction her up presently, till farther orders from me. Not that was not foretold in all your Ephemeres! The a word,' hussy-Do what I bid you. No reply: brightest star in the blue firmament—is shot from away. And bid Robin make ready to give an above, in a jelly of love, and so forth; and I'm lord account of his plate and linen, d'ye hear ? Be gone, of the ascendant. You're an old fellow, Foresight, when I bid you.
uncle, I mean; a very old fellow, uncle Foresight [Ereunt Nurse and Miss Prue. and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding Mrs. For. What's the matter, husband ? faith you shall. We'll have the music of the For. 'Tis not convenient to teil you now spheres for thee, old Lilly, that we will; and thou Mr. Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our senses ! I shalt lead up a dance in via lactea.
Vol. II. ...3 F 35
For. I'm thunderstruck! You are not married For. Why, you told me just now, you went to my niece ?
hence in haste to be married! Sir S. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very Ang. But, I believe Mr. Tattle meant the fanear it; within a kiss of the matter, as you see. vour to me, I thank him.
(Kisses ANGELICA. Tat. I did, as I hope to be saved, Madam; my Ang. 'Tis very true indeed, uncle; I hope you'll intentions were good.—But this is the nost be my father, and give me.
cruel thing, to marry one does not know how, noi Sir S. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes.- why, nor wherefore. The devil take me, if ever I He shall be thy father: I'll make him thy father, was so much concerned at any thing in my life. and thou shalt make me a father, and I'll make Ang. 'Tis very unhappy, if you don't care for thee a mother; and we'll beget sons and daugh- one another. lers enough to put the weekly bills out of counte Tat. The least in the world -that is, for my
part, I speak for myself. Gad, I never had the Scand. Death and hell! Where's Valentine? | least thought of serious kindness—I never liked
(Erit. any body less in my life. Poor woman! I'm sorry Mrs. For. This is so surprising
for her too; for I have no reason to hate her Sir S. How! what does my aunt say ? Sur- neither; but I believe I shall lead her a damned prising, aunt ? not at all, for a young couple to sort of a life. make a match in winter!- It's a plot to undermine Mrs. For. He's better than no husband at all cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed —though he's a coxcomb. (To FRAIL called a warming-pan.
Mrs. F. (To her.) Ay, ay, it's well it's no Mrs. For. I'm glad to hear you have so much worse. Nay, for my part, I always despised Mr. fire in you, Sir Sampson.
Tattle of all things; nothing but his being my Ben. Mess, I fear his fire's little better than husband could have made me like him less. tinder; mayhap it will only serve to light a match Tat. Look you there, I thought as much !for somebody else. The young woman 's a hand- Plague on't, I wish we could keep it secret; why, some young woman, I can't deny it; but father, if I don't believe any of this company would speak I might be your pilot in this case, you should not of it. marry her. It is just the same thing as if so be Ben. If you suspect me, friend, I'll go out of you should sail as far as the Streights without the room. provision.
Mrs. F. But, my dear, that's impossible; the Sir S. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish it. To your element, fish; be mute, fish, and to sea. Tat. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say. Rule your helm, sirrah; don't direct me.
Ang. O, you'll agree very well in a little time, Ben. Well, well , take you care of your own custom will make it easy
you. helm; or you mayn't keep your new vessel steady. Tat. Easy! Plague on't, I don't believe I shall
Sir S. Why, you impudent tarpawling! sirrah, sleep to-night. do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father ? Sir S. Sleep! No, why, you would not sleep But I shall be even with you; I wont give you a on your wedding-night? I'm an older fellow than groat. Mr. Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, you, and don't mean to sleep. that nothing can possibly descend to this scoun Ben. Why, there's another match now, as if drel ? I would not so much as have him have the a couple of privateers were looking for a prize, prospect of an estate, though there were no way and should fall foul of one another. I'm sorry for to come to it, but by the north-east passage. the young man with all my heart. Look you,
Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your direc- friend, if I may advise you, when she's goingtions; there is not the least part of the law un- for that you must expect, I have experience of stopped.
her-when she's going, let her go.
For no Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a part matrimony is tough enough to hold her; and if and leak unstopped in your conscience! If so be she can't drag her anchor along with her, she'll that one had a pump to your hosom, I believe we break her cable, I can tell you that. - Who's should discover a foul hold. They say a witch here? the madman? will sail in a sieve-but I believe the devil would not venture aboard your conscience.-And that's Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and JEREMY. for you.
Sir S. Hold your tongue, sirrah.-How now? Val. No; here's the fool; and, if occasion be, who's here?
I'll give it under my hand.
Sir S. How now?
Val. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors,
and ask your pardon. Mrs. F. O, sister, the most unlucky accident ! Sir S. What, have you found your senses at Mrs. For. What's the matter?
last then? In good time, Sir. Tat. O, the two most unfortunate poor crea Val. You were abused, Sir; I never was dis. tures in the world we are.
tracted. For. Bless us! how so?
For. How! not mad, Mr. Scandal ? Mrs. F. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tat Scand. No, really, Sir; I'm his witness, it was tle and I are—I can't speak it out.
all counterfeit. Tat. Nor 1- But poor Mrs. Frail and I are Val. I thought I had reasons but it was a Mrs. F. Married.
poor contrivance: the effect has shown it such. For. Married! How?
Sir S. Contrivance! what, to cheat me? to Tat. Suddenly before we knew where we cheat your father! Sirrah, could you hop to were-that villain Jeremy, by the help of dis- prosper ? guises, tricked us into one another.
Val. Indeed I thought, Sir, when the father