knowledgment of love! I find you have mis- | himself.-Indeed, Sir, I have almost broke taken my compassion, and think me guilty of my heart about him-I can't refrain tears a weakness I am a stranger to. But I have when I think on him, Sir; I'm as melancholy too much sincerity to deceive you, and too for him as a passing-bell, Sir; or a horse in a much charity to suffer him to be deluded with pond. vain hopes. Good nature and humanity oblige me to be concerned for him; but to love, is neither in my power nor inclination; and if he can't be cured without I suck the poison from his wounds, I'm afraid he wont recover his senses till I lose mine. Scand. Hey, brave woman, faith!-Wont you see him then, if he desires it? Ang. What signifies a madman's desires? besides, 'twould make me uneasy-If I don't see him, perhaps my concern for him may lessen-If I forget him, 'tis no more than he has done by himself; and now the surprise is over, methinks I'm not so sorry as I was. Scand. So, faith, good-nature works apace; you were confessing just now an obligation to his love. Ang. But I have considered that passions are unreasonable and involuntary. If he loves, he can't help it; and if I don't love, I cannot help it; no more than he can help his being a man, or I my being a woman; or no more than I can help my want of inclination to stay longer here. [Exit. Scand. Humph-An admirable composition. Enter SIR SAMPSON and BUCKRAM. Sir S. D'ye see, Mr. Buckram, here's the paper signed with his own hand. Buck. Good, Sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn in this box, if he be ready to sign and seal. Sir S. Ready! he must be ready: his sham Sir S. What, is he gone out of town? run away? ha! has he tricked me? Speak, var let. Sir S. Confound your similitudes, Sir :Speak to be understood: and tell me in plain terms what the matter is with him, or I'll crack your fool's skull. Jer. Ah, you've hit it, Sir; that's the matter; his skull's cracked, poor gentleman! he's stark mad, Sir. Sir S. Mad! Buck. What, is he non compos? Buck. Why, then, all's obliterated, Sir Sampson. If he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no effect; it is not good ir law. at Sir S. I wont believe it; let me see him, Sir. Jer. Mr. Scandal is with him, Sir; I'll knock [Goes to the scene, which opens and discovers VALENTINE and SCANDAL. VALENTINE upon a couch disorderly dressed. Sir S. How now? what's here to do? Val. Ha! who's that? [Starting. Scand. For Heaven's sake, softly, Sir, and gently: don't provoke him. Val. Answer me, who's that? and that? Sir S. Gad, does he not know? is he mischievous? I'll speak gently.-Val, Val, dost thou not know me, boy? not know thy own father, Val? I am thy own father; and this, honest Brief Buckram the lawyer. Val. It may be so-I did not know youthe world is full.-There are people that we do know, and people that we do not know; and yet the sun shines upon all alike.-There are fathers that have many children; and there are children that have many fathers-'tis strange! But I am Honesty, and come to give the world the lie. Sir S. I know not what to say to him. Val. Why does that lawyer wear black?does he carry his conscience without side? Lawyer, what art thou? dost thou know me? Buck. O Lord, what must I say?—Yes, Sir. Val. Thou liest; for I am Honesty. 'Tis hard I cannot get a livelihood amongst you. I have been sworn out of Westminster Hall the first day of every term-Let me see-no matter how long-But I'll tell you one thing; it is a question that would puzzle an arithmetician, if I should ask him, whether the Bible saves more souls in Westminster Abbey, or damns more in Westminster Hall?-For my part, I am Honesty, and can't tell ; I have very few acquaintance. Sir S. He talks sensibly in his madnessHas he no intervals? Jer. Very short, Sir. Buck. Sir, I can do no service while he's in this condition. Here's your paper, Sir.-He may do me a mischief if I stay.The conveyance is ready, Sir, if he recover his senses. [Exit. Sir S. Hold, hold, don't you go yet. Scand. You'd better let him go, Sir; and send for him if there be occasion: for I fancy his presence provokes him more. Val. Is the lawyer gone? "Tis well; then we may drink about without going together by the ears.-Heigh ho! what o'clock is it? | est.-But what are you for? religion or poliMy father here! your blessing, Sir. Sir S. He recovers!-Bless thee, Val! How dost thou do, boy? Val. Thank you, Sir, pretty well.-1 have been a little out of order. Wont you please to sit, Sir? Sir S. Ay, boy.-Come, thou shalt sit by me. Val. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait. Sir S. No, no: come, come, sit thee down, honest Val. How dost thou do? let me feel thy pulse-Oh, pretty well now, Val. I was sorry to see thee indisposed: but 1 am glad thou art better, honest Val. Val. I thank you, Sir. Scund. Miracle! the monster grows loving. [Aside. Sir S. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does not shake-I believe thou canst write, Val. Ha, boy ? thou canst write thy name, Val?Jeremy, step and overtake Mr. Buckram? bid him make haste back with the conveyance, quick. [Exit JEREMY. Scand. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any remorse. [Aside. Sir S. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thou'rt honest, and will perform articles. or no. tics ? There's a couple of topics for you, no more like one another than oil and vinegar: and yet these two beaten together by a state cook, make sauce for the whole nation. Sir S. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget sons? why did I ever marry? Val. Because thou wert a monster, old boy. The two greatest monsters in the world are a man and a woman. What's thy opinion? Sir S. Why my opinion is that these two monsters joined together make yet a greater; that's a man and his wife. Val. Aha, old Truepenny! say'st thou so? Thou has nicked it.-But it is wonderful strange, Jeremy. Jer. What is it, Sir? [Shows him the paper, but holds it out of Sir S. Are we? Plague on your prognostihis reach. cations! Why, we are fools as we used to be. Val. Pray let me see it, Sir; you hold it so-Zounds, that you could not foresee that the far off, that I can't tell whether I know it moon would predominate, and my son be mad! Where's your oppositions, your trines, Sir S. See it, boy? Ay, ay, why thou dost and your quadrates ?-What did your Cardan see it 'tis thy own hand, Vally. Why, let and your Ptolemy tell you? Your Messahalah me see, I can read it as plain as can be: look and your Longomontanus, your harmony of you here [Reads.] The condition of this chiromancy with astrology! Ah! plague on't, obligation-Look you, as plain as can be, so it that I who know the world, and men and begins-And then at bottom-As witness my manners, who don't believe a syllable in the hand, VALENTINE LEGEND, in great sky and stars, and sun and almanacs, and letters. Why, 'tis as plain as the nose on trash, should be directed by a dreamer, an one's face. What, are my eyes better than omen hunter, and defer business in expectathine? I believe I can read it farther off yet-tion of a lucky hour! when, there never was let me see. [ Stretches his arm as far as he can. a lucky hour after the first opportunity. Val. Will you please to let me hold it, Sir? Sir S. Let thee hold it, say'st thou ?-Ay, with all my heart-What matter is it who holds it? What need any body hold it. I'll put it in my pocket, Val? and then nobody need hold it. [Puts the paper in his_pocket.] There, Val it's safe enough, boy.-But thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy hand to another paper, little Val. Enter JEREMY and BUCKRAM. Val. What, is my bad genius here again? Oh, no, 'tis the lawyer with an itching palm; and he's come to be scratched.-My nails are not long enough.-Let me have a pair of redhot tongs quickly, quickly; and you shall see me act St. Dunstan, and lead the devil by the nose. Buck. O Lord, let me be gone! I'll not venture myself with a madman. [Runs out. Val. Ha, ha, ha! yon need not run so fast. Honesty will not overtake you.-Ha, ha, ha! the rogue found me out to be in forma pauperis presently. Sir S. What a vexation is here! I know not what to do, or say, or which way to go. Val. Who's that, that's out of his way? I am Honesty, and can set him right.-Hark'ee, friend, the straight road is the worst way you can go. He that follows his nose always, will very often be led into a stink. Probatum [Exit. For. Ah, Sir Sampson, Heaven help your head!This is none of your lucky hourNemo omnibus horis sapit!-What, is he gone, and in contempt of science? Ill stars and unconvertible ignorance attend him! Scand. You must excuse his passion, Mr. Foresight; for he has been heartily vexedHis son is non compos mentis, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in law; so that all his measures are disappointed. For. Ha! say you so? Mrs. F. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of hope, then? Aside to MRS. FORESIGHT. Mrs. For. O sister, what will you do with him? Mrs. F. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul weather.-He's used to an inconstant element, and wont be surprised to see the tide turned. For. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this? [Considers. Scand. Madam, you and I can tell him something else that he did not foresee, and more particularly relating to his own fortune! [Aside to MRS. FORESIGHT. Mrs. For. What do you mean? I don't understand you. Scand. Hush, softly-the pleasures of last night, my dear; too considerable to be forgot so soon. Mrs. For. Last night! and what would your impudence infer from last night? Last night was like the night before, I think. Scand. 'Sdeath! do you make no difference between me and your husband? Mrs. For. Not much-he's superstitious; and you are mad, in my opinion. Scand. You make me mad-You are not serious?-pray recollect yourself. Mrs. For. O yes, now I remember, you were very impertinent and impudent-and would have come to bed to me. Scand. And did not? Mrs. For. Did not! With what face can you ask the question? Scand. This I have heard of before, but never believed. I have been told, she had that admirable quality of forgetting to a man's face in the morning, that she had lain with him all night; and denying that she had done favours, with more impudence than she could grant them. [Aside.]—Madam, I am your humble servant, and honour you.-You look pretty well, Mr. Foresight. How did you rest last night? For. Truly, Mr. Scandal, I was taken up with broken dreams, and distracted visions, that I remember little of. Scand. "Twas a very forgetting night. But would you not talk with Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I am apt to believe there is something mysterious in his discourse, and sometimes rather think him inspired than mad, For. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr. Scandal, truly.-I am inclining to your Turkish opinion in this matter, and do reverence a man whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to him. Mrs. F. Sister, do you go with them; I'll find out my lover, and give him his discharge, and come to you.-[Exeunt SCANDAL, MR. and MRS. FORESIGHT.]On my conscience, here he comes! Ben. Why, father came, and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced thing, as he would have me marry-so he asked what was the matter. He asked in a surly sort of a way.It seems brother Val is gone mad, and so that put'n into a passion; but what, did I know that? what's that to me?-So he asked in a surly sort of a manner-and I answered 'en as surlily. What though he be my father, I an't bound prentice to 'en: so, faith Í told'n in plain terms, if I were minded to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him; and for the young woman that he provided for me, I thought it more fitting for her to learn her sampler, and make pies, than to look after a husband; for my part, I was none of her man-I had another voyage to make, let him take it as he will. Mrs. F. So, then, you intend to go to sea again? Ben. Nay, nay, my mind ran upon you-but I would not tell him so much.-So he said, he'd make my heart ache; and if so be that he could get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, if you play the fool and marry at these years, there's more danger of your head's aching than my heart!-He was woundly angry when I giv'en that wipe-he had'nt a word to say; and so I left'n, and the green girl together; mayhap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her himself-with all my heart! Mrs. F. And were you this undutiful and graceless wretch to your father? Ben. Then why was he graceless first?-If I am undutiful and graceless, why did he beget me so? I did not beget myself. Mrs. F. O impiety! how have I been mistaken! What an inhuman, merciless creature have I set my heart upon? Oh, I am happy to have discovered the shelves and quicksands that lurk beneath that faithless, smiling face? Ben. Hey-toss! what's the matter now? why you ben't angry, be you? Mrs. F. O, see me no more-for thou wert born among rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in a tempest, and whistled to by winds; and thou art come forth with fins and scales, and three rows of teeth, a most outrageous fish of prey. Ben. O Lord, O Lord, she's mad, poor young woman! Love has turned her senses; her brain is quite overset.-Well-a-day! how shall I do to set her to rights? Mrs. F. No, no, I am not mad, monster; I am wise enough to find you out.-Hadst thou the impudence to aspire at being a husband, with that stubborn and disobedient temper?You, that know not how to submit to a father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo a wife? I should have been finely fobbed indeed, very finely fobbed! Ben. Hark'ee, forsooth! if so be that you are in your right senses, d'ye see, for aught as I perceive, I'm likely to be finely fobbed-if I have got anger here upon your account, and you are tacked about already!-What d'ye mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, and kissing and hugging, what would you shear off so, would you, and leave me a-ground? Mrs. F. No, I'll leave you adrift, and go which way you will. Ben. What, are you false-hearted then? Ben. More shame for you! The wind's changed! It is an ill wind blows nobody good. -Mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these be your tricks.-What, did you mean all this while to make a fool of me? Mrs. F. Any fool but a husband. Ben. Husband! Gad, I would not be your husband, if you would have me, now I know your mind; thof you had your weight in gold and jewels, and thof I loved you never so well. Mrs. F. Why, canst thou love, Porpus? Ben. No matter what I can do; don't call names. I don't love you so well as to bear that, whatever I did.-I'm glad you show yourself, mistress: let them marry you as don't know you -Gad, I know you too well, by sad experience; I believe he that marries you will go to sea in a hen-pecked frigate.-I believe that, young woman; and mayhap may come to an anchor at Cuckold's Point; so there's a dash for you, take it as you will; mayhap you may hollo after me when I wont come to. [Exit. Mrs. F. Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on't. [Sings.] "My true love is gone to sea!" Enter MRS. FORESIGHT. may ten to one dirty his sheets before night. But there are two things that you will see very strange; which are, wanton wives with their legs at liberty, and tame cuckolds with ( sister, had you come a minute sooner, you chains about their necks.-But hold, I must would have seen the resolution of a lover.-examine you before I go further; you look Honest Tar and I are parted-and with the suspiciously. Are you a husband?" same indifference that we met.-On my life, For. I am married. 1 am half vexed at the insensibility of a brute 1 despised. Mrs. For. What, then, he bore it most heroically? Mrs. F. Most tyrannically-for you see he has got the start of me; and I, the poor forsaken maid, am left complaining on the shore. But I'll tell you a hint that he has given me. Sir Sampson is enraged, and talks desperately of committing matrimony himself. If he has a mind to throw himself away, he can't do it more effectually than upon me, if we could bring it about. Mrs. For. O hang him, old fox! he's too cunning; besides, he hates both you and me. But I have a project in my head for you, and I have gone a good way towards it. I have almost made a bargain with Jeremy, Valentine's man, to sell his master to us, Mrs. F. Sell him! how? Mrs. For. Valentine raves upon Angelica, and took me for her; and, Jeremy says, will take any body for her that he imposes on him. Now I have promised him mountains, if in one of his mad fits he will bring you to him in her stead, and get you married together, and put to-bed together-and after consummation, girl, there's no revoking. And if he should recover his senses, he'll be glad at least to make you a good settlement.-Here they come; stand aside a little, and tell me how you like the design. Val. Poor creature! is your wife of Covent Garden parish? For. No; St. Martin in the Fields. Val. Alas, poor man! his eyes are sunk, and his hands shrivelled; his legs dwindled, and his back bowed. Pray, pray for a met amorphosis.-Change thy shape, and shake off age; get thee Medea's kettle, and be boiled anew; come forth, with labouring, callous hands, a chine of steel, and Atlas' shoulders. Let Taliacotius trim the calves of twenty chairmen, and make thee pedestals to stand erect upon; and look matrimony in the face. Ha, ha, ha! that a man should have a stomach to a wedding supper, when the pigeons ought rather to be laid to his feet! ha, ha, ha! For. His frenzy is very high now, Mr. Scandal. Scand. I believe it is a spring tide. For. Very likely truly; you understand these matters.-Mr. Scandal, I shall be very glad to confer with you about these things which he has uttered.-His sayings are very mysterious and hieroglyphical. Val. Why would Angelica be absent from my eyes so long? Jer. She's here, Sir. Mrs. F. O Lord, what must I say? Scand. Humour him, Madam, by all means. Val. Where is she? Oh, I see her!-She comes, like riches, health, and liberty, at once, to a despairing, starving, and abandoned Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, and wretch.-O welcome, welcome! JEREMY. Scand. And have you given your master a Scand. It may make us sport. Val. Husht-interrupt me not-I'll whisper Scand. Ask him, Mr. Foresight. For. Pray what will be done at court? For. In the city? Val. Oh, prayers will be said in empty churches, at the usual hours. Yet you will see such zealous faces behind counters, as if religion were to be sold in every shop. Oh! things will go methodically in the city. The clocks will strike twelve at noon, and the horned herd buzz in the Exchange at two. Husbands and wives will drive distinct trades; and care and pleasure separately occupy the family. Coffee-houses will be full of smoke and stratagem. And the cropped apprentice, that sweeps his master's shop in the morning, Mrs. F. How d'ye, Sir? can I serve you? Val. Hark'ee-I have a secret to tell you→ Endymion and the moon shall meet us upon Mount Latmos, and we'll be married in the dead of night.-But say not a word.-Hymen shall put his torch into a dark lantern, that it may be secret; and Juno shall give her peacock poppy-water, that he may fold his ogling tail, and Argus's hundred eyes be shut, ha? Nobody shall know but Jeremy. Mrs. F. No, no, we'll keep it secret; it shall be done presently. Val. The sooner the better-Jeremy, come hither-closer-that none may overhear us. Jeremy, I can tell you news. Angelica is turned nun; and I am turned friar: and yet we'll marry one another in spite of the pope. Get me a cowl and beads, that I may play my part-for she'll meet me two hours hence in black and white, and a long veil to cover the project; and we won't see one another's faces, till we have done something to be ashamed of -and then we'll blush once for all. Enter TATTLE and ANGELICA. Val. Whisper. Ang. Nay, Mr. Tattle, if you make love to me, you spoil my design; for I intend to make you my confidant. Scand. How's this! Tattle making love to Angelica! Tat. But, Madam, to throw away your person, such a person! and such a fortune, on a madman! Ang. I never loved him till he was mad; but don't tell any body so. Tat. Tell, Madam? alas, you don't know me.-I have much ado to tell your ladyship how long I have been in love with you-but, encouraged by the impossibility of Valentine's making any more addresses to you, I have ventured to declare the very inmost passion of my heart. Oh, Madam, look upon us both. There you see the ruins of a poor decayed creature! -Here, a complete lively figure, with youth and health, and all his five senses, in perfection, Madam; and to all this, the most passionate lover Ang. O, fy for shame, hold your tongue. A passionate lover, and five senses in perfection! When you are as mad as Valentine, I'll believe you love me; and the maddest shall take me. Val. It is enough. Ha! who's there? Mrs. F. O Lord, her coming will spoil all. [TO JEREMY. Jer. No, no, Madam; he wont know her; if he should, I can persuade him. Val. Scandal, who are these? Foreigners? if they are, I'll tell you what I think.-Get away all the company but Angelica, that I may discover my design to her, [Whispers. Scand. I will.-I have discovered something of Tattle, that is of a piece with Mrs. Frail. He courts Angelica;-it we could contrive to couple them together-Hark'ee-[Whispers. Mrs. For. He wont know you, cousin; he knows nobody.. For. But he knows more than any body.Oh, niece, he knows things past and to come, and all the profound secrets of time. Tat. Look you, Mr. Foresight; it is not my way to make many words of matters, and so I sha'n't say much. But in short, d'ye see, I will hold you a hundred pounds now, that know more secrets than he. For. How? I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr. Tattle. Pray, what do you know? Tat. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, Sir?Read it in my face! No, Sir, it is written in my heart; and safer there, Sir, than letters written in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I'm no blab, Sir. Val. Acquaint Jeremy with it: he may easily bring it about. They are welcome, and I'll tell them so myself. [To SCANDAL.] What, do you look strange upon me?-Then I must be plain. [Coming up to them.] 1 am Honesty, and hate an old acquaintance with a new face. [SCANDAL goes aside with JEREMY. Tat. Do you know me, Valentine? Val. You? Who are you? I hope not. Tat. I am Jack Tattle, your friend. Val. My friend! what to do? I'm no married man, and thou canst not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow money of me. Then what employment have I for a friend? Tat. Ha! a good open speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret. Ang. Do you know me, Valentine ? Val. You're a woman-one to whom Heaven gave beauty, when it grafted roses on a brier. You are the reflection of heaven in a pond; and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white; a sheet of lovely spotless paper, when you were first born; but you are to be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I tell thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve, For, by our weak and weary truth, I find, But for relief of either sex, agree: [Walks musing. Jer. [JEREMY and SCANDAL whisper.] I'll do't, Sir. Scand. Mr. Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous, and do mischief. For. I will be directed by you. Jer. [To MRS. FRAIL.] You'll meet, Madam. -I'll take care every thing shall be ready. Mrs. F. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee nothing. Tat. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [To ANGELICA. Ang. No, I'll stay with him.-Mr. Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr. Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait upon you. Tat. Plague on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that-Madam, will you do me the honour? Mrs. For. Mr. Tattle might have used less ceremony. [Exeunt MRS. FRAIL, MR. and MRS. FORESIGHT, and TATTLE. Scand. Jeremy, follow Tattle. [Exit JEREMY. Ang. Mr. Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I have a mind to be rid of Mr. Tattle. Scand. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which you gave to Mr. Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of the discovery; and your ladyship to the free confession of your inclinations. Ang. O Heavens! you wont leave me alone with a madman. Scand. No, Madam; I only leave a madman to his remedy. [Exit. Val. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin to come to myself. Ang. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. [Aside. Val. You see what disguises love makes us |