1214 put on. Gods have been in counterfeited you, till I accidentally touched upon your Ang. Mercy on me, how he talks!-Poor Val. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws towards an end; and let us think of leaving acting, and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own, I have at length deserved you should confess it. Ang. [Sighs. I would I had loved you !— for Heaven knows, I pity you; and, could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; but that's too late! Val. What bad effects? what's too late?My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here. Ang. How? I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems, you only counterfeited for mercenary ends and sordid interest. Val. Nay, now you do me wrong; for, if any interest was considered, it was yours; since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you. Ang. Then you thought me mercenary-But how am I deluded by this interval of sense, to reason with a madman? Val. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer. Enter JEREMY. Ang. Oh, here's a reasonable creaturesure he will not have the impudence to perse vere!-Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit. Jer. Counterfeit, Madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad, as any freeholder in Bedlam. Nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe. Val. Sirrah, you lie; I'm not mad. Val. Sot, can't you apprehend? Val. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell Ang. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy? Jer. Partly, I think-For he does not know his own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad : and I think I have not found him very quiet at the present. [One knocks.] Who's there! Val. Go see, you sot. I'm very glad that I can move your mirth, though not your compassion. Ang. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptious: but madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound understanding, as drunken men do by overacting sobriety. I was half inclining to believe Jer. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet.-Will you please to be mad, Sir, or how? Val. Stupidity! you know the penalty of all Jer. So;-just the very back-side of truth. Enter JENNY. Ang. Well, have you been there?-Come Ang. Would any thing but a madman com- Jer. What, is the lady gone again, Sir? I went? Val. Understood! she is harder to be understood than a piece of Egyptian antiquity, or an Irish manuscript; you may pore till you spoil your eyes, and not improve your knowledge. Jer. I have heard them say, Sir, they read hard Hebrew books backwards. May be you begin to read at the wrong end! Val. They say so of a witch's prayer; and That women are like tricks by slight of hand, ACT V. SCENE I-A Room in FORESIGHT'S House. Enter ANGELICA and JENNY. Ang. Where is Sir Sampson? did you not tell me he would be here before me? Jenny. He's at the great glass in the diningroom, Madam, setting his cravat and wig. Ang. How! I'm glad on't.-If he has a mind I should like him, it's a sign he likes me; and that's more than half my design. Jenny. I hear him, Madam. Ang. Leave me; and, d'ye hear, if Valentine should come or send, I'm not to be spoken [Exit JENNY. with. Enter SIR SAMPSON. Sir S. I have not been honoured with the commands of a fair lady a great while.-Odd, Madam, you have revived me-not since I was five and thirty. Ang. Why, you have no great reason to complain, Sir Sampson; that's not long ago. Sir S. But it is, Madam, a very great while; to a man that admires a fine woman as much as I do. Ang. You're an absolute courtier, Sir Samp son. Sir S. Not at all, Madam. You wrong me: I am not so old neither, to be a bare courtier, only a man of words. I have warm blood about me yet, and can serve a lady any way. -Come, come, let me tell you, you women think a man old too soon, faith you do. Come, don't despise fifty; odd, fifty, in a hale constitution, is no such contemptible age! Ang. Fifty a contemptible age! not at all: a very fashionable age, I think,-I assure you, I know very considerable beaus, that set a good face upon fifty-Fifty! I have seen fifty in a side tox, by candle light, out-blossom five and twenty. Sir S.Outsides, outsides; a plague take them, mere outsides. Hang your side-box beaus; no, I'm none of those, none of your forced trees, that pretend to blossom in the fall; and bud when they should bring forth fruit. I am of a long-lived race, and inherit vigour. None of my ancestors married till fifty; yet they begot sons and daughters till fourscore. I am of your patriarchs; I, a branch of one of your Antediluvian families, fellows that the flood could not wash away. Well Madam, what are your commands? Has any young rogue affronted you, and shall I cut his throat, or Ang. No, Sir Sampson, I have no quarrel upon my hands-I have more occasion for your conduct than your courage at this time. To tell you the truth, I'm weary of living single, and want a husband. Sir S. And it is pity you should!-Would she would like me! then I should hamper my young rogues: faith, she's devilish handsome! [Aside.] Madam, you deserve a good husband! and 'twere pity you should be thrown away upon any of these young idle rogues about the town. There's ne'er a young fellow worth having that is a very young fellow-Plague on them, they never think beforehand and if they commit matrimony, 'tis as they commit murder; out of a frolic; and are ready to hang themselves, or to be hanged by the law, the next morning. Have a care, Madam. Ang. Therefore I ask your advice, Sir Sampson; I have fortune enough to make any man easy that I can like; if there was such a thing as a young agreeable man, with a reasonable stock of good-nature and sense-for I would neither have an absolute wit, nor a fool. Sir S. You are hard to please, Madam: to find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task. But, faith, you speak very discreetly; for I hate both a wit and a fool. his wife than his enemy; for his malice is not a more terrible consequence of his aversion, than his jealousy is of his love. Sir S. None of old Foresight's Sibyls ever uttered such a truth. You have won my heart. I hate a wit; I had a son that was spoiled among them; a good hopeful lad, till he learned to be a wit-and might have risen in the state. But, a plague on't, his wit ran him out of his money, and now his poverty has run him out of his wits. Ang. Sir Sampson, as your friend, I must tell you, you are very much abused in that matter-be's no more mad than you are. it! Sir S. How, Madam! would I could prove Ang I can tell you how that may be donebut it is a thing that would make me appear to be too much concerned in your affairs. Sir S. 1 believe she likes me! [Aside.] Ah, Madam, all my affairs are scarce worthy to be laid at your feet; and I wish, Madam, they were in a better state, that Fmight make a more becoming offer to a lady of your incomparable beauty and merit.-If i had Peru in one hand, and Mexico in t'other, and the eastern empire under my feet; it would make me only a more glorious victim, to be offered at the shrine of your beauty. Ang. Bless me, Sir Sampson, what's the matter? Sir S. Madam, I love you-and if you would take my advice in a husband Ang. Hold, hold, Sir Sam; son, I asked your advice for a husband, and you are giving me your consent. I was thinking to propose something like it in jest, to satisfy you about Valentine: for if a match were seemingly carried on between you and me, it would oblige him to throw off his disguise of madness in apprehension of losing me; for, you know, he has long pretended a passion for me. Sir S. Gad, a most ingenious contrivanceif we were to go through with it! But why must the match only be seemingly carried on? Let it be a real contract. Ang. O fy, Sir Sampson, what would the world say? Sir S. Say? They would say you were a wise woman, and I a happy man. Madam, I'll love you as long as I live; and leave you a good jointure when I die. Ang. Ay; but that is not in your power, Sir Sampson; for when Valentine confesses himself in his senses, he must make over his inheritance to his younger brother. Sir S. You're cunning; a wary baggage. Faith, I like you the better. But, I warrant you, I have a proviso in the obligation in favour of myself. I have a trick to turn the settlement upon the issue male of our bodies. Let us find children, and I'll find an estate. Ang. Will you? Well, do you find the estate, and leave the other to me. Sir S. O rogue! but I'll trust you. And will you consent? Is it a match then? Ang. Let me consult my lawyer concerning this obligation; and if I find what you propose practicable, I'll give you my answer. Sir S. With all my heart. Come in with Ang. She that marries a fool, Sir Sampson, me, and I'll lend you the bond. You shall forfeits the reputation of her honesty or under-consult your lawyer, and I'll consult a parson. standing; and she that marries a very witty man, is a slave to the severity and insolent conduct of her husband. I should like a man of wit for a lover, because I would have such a oue in my power: but I would no more be I'm a young man; and I'll make it appearYou're devilish handsome. Faith, you're very handsome; and I'm very young, and very lusty. Ods, hussy, you know how to choose; and so do I. I think we are very well met.. Give me your hand; let me kiss it; 'tis as warm and as soft-as what? odd as t'other hand!-Give me t'other hand; and I'll mumble them, till they melt in my mouth. Ang. Hold, Sir Sampson-You're profuse of your vigour before your time. You'll spend your estate before you come to it. Sir S. No, no, only give you a rent roll of my possessions-Ah! baggage !-I warrant you for a little Sampson. Odd, Sampson is a very good name for an able fellow. Your Sampsons were strong dogs from the beginning. Ang. Have a care, and don't over-act your part. If you remember, Sampson, the strongest of the name, pulled an old house over his head at last. Sir S. Say you so ?-Come, let's go then: I long to be pulling too.-Come away- -Here's somebody coming. Enter TATTLE and JEREMY. [Exeunt. Tat. Is that not she, gone out just now? Jer. Ay, Sir, she's just going to the place of appointment. Ah, Sir, if you are not very faithful and close in this business, you'll certainly be the death of a person that has a most extraordinary passion for your honour's service. Tat. Ay, who's that? Jer. Even my unworthy self, Sir. Sir, I have had an appetite to be fed with your commands a great while-And now, Sir, my former master having much troubled the fountain of his understanding, it is a very plausible occasion for me to quench my thirst at the spring of your bounty. I thought I could not recommend myself better to you, Sir, than by the delivery of a great beauty and fortune into your arms, whom I have heard you sigh for. Tat. I'll make thy fortune; say no more. Thou art a pretty fellow, and canst carry a message to a lady, in a soft kind of phrase, and with a good persuading accent. Jer. Sir, I have the seeds of rhetoric, and oratory in my head-I have been at Cambridge. Tat. Ay; 'tis well enough for a servant to be bred at a university; but the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman. I hope you are secret in your nature, private, close, ha? Jer. O, Sir, for that, Sir, 'tis my chief talent; I'm as secret as the head of Nilus. Tat. Ay? who's he, though; a privy-counsellor ! Jer. O ignorance! [Aside.]-A cunning Egyptian, Sir, that with his arms could overrun the country, yet nobody could ever find out his head-quarters. Tat. Close dog! a good debauchee, I warrant him!-The time draws nigh, Jeremy Angelica will be veiled like a nun; and I must be hooded like a friar: ha, Jeremy? Jer. Ay, Sir, hooded like a hawk, to seize at first sight upon the quarry. It is the whim of my master's madness to be so dressed; and she is so in love with him, she'll comply with any thing to please him. Poor lady! I'm sure she'll have reason to pray for me, when she finds what a happy change she has made, between a madman and so accomplished a gentleman. Tat. Ay, faith, so she will, Jeremy! You're a good friend to her, poor creature! I swear I do it hardly so much in consideration of myself, as compassion to her. Jer. "Tis an act of charity, Sir, to save a fine woman with thirty thousand pounds from throwing herself away. Tat. So 'tis faith; I might have saved several others in my time; but I could never find in my heart to marry any body before. Jer. Well, Sir, I'll go and tell her my master's coming; and meet you in half a quarter of an hour, with your disguise, at your lodgings. You must talk a little madly; she wont distinguish the tone of your voice. Tat. No, no, let me alone for a counterfeit. [Exit JEREMY. I'll be ready for you. Enter MISS PRUE. Miss P. O, Mr. Tattle, are you here! I'm glad I have found you. I have been looking for you, till I'm tired. Tut. O pox! how shall I get rid of this foolish girl! Miss P. O, I have great news, I can tell you great news-I must not marry the seaman now-My father says so. Why wont you be my husband? You say you love me! and you wont be my husband? And I know you may be my husband now, if you please. Tat. O fy, Miss! who told you so? Miss P. Why, my father--I told him that you loved me. Tat. O fy, Miss! why did you do so? and who told you so? Miss P. Who? Why you did; did not you? Tat. O, that was yesterday; that was a great while ago. I have been asleep since; slept a whole night, and did not so much as dream of the matter. Miss P. Pshaw! O, but I dreamt that it was so, though. Tat. Ay, but your father will tell you that d eams come by contraries. O fy! what, we must not love one another now. Pshaw, that would be a foolish thing indeed! Fy, fy! you're a woman now, and must think of a new man every morning, and forget him every night. No, no, to marry is to be a child again, and play with the same rattle always: O fy, marrying is a bad thing! Miss P. Well, but don't you love me as well as you did last night, then? Tat. No, no, you would not have me. Miss P. But here's my father, and he knows my mind. Enter FORESIGHT. For. O, Mr. Tattle, your servant, you are a close man; but methinks your love to my daughter was a secret I might have been trusted with !-or had you a mind to try if I could discover it by my art?-Hum, ha! I think there is something in your physiognomy that has a resemblance of her: and the girl is like me. Tut. And so you would infer that you and I are alike-What does the old prig mean? I'll banter him and laugh at him, and leave him, [Aside.]-I fancy you have a wrong notion of faces. For. How? what? a wrong notion! how so? Tut. In the way of art, I have some taking features, not obvious to vulgar eyes, that are indication of a sudden turn of good fortune, in Mr. Scandal, Heaven keep us all in our the lottery of wives; and promise a great senses! I fear there is a contagious frenzy beauty and great fortune reserved alone for abroad. How does Valentine? me, by a private intrigue of destiny kept Scand. O, I hope he will do well again. I secret from the piercing eye of perspicuity, have a message from him to your niece Angelfrom all astrologers, and the stars them- ica. selves. For. How? I will make it appear, that what you say is impossible. Tat. Sir, I beg your pardon, I am in hasteFor. For what? -married. Tat. To be married, Sir For. Ay, but pray take me along with you, Sir. this? Tat. Very true, Sir! and desire to continue So. I have no more love for your daughter, than I have likeness of you: and I have a secret in my heart, which you would be glad to know, and sha'n't know and yet you shall know it too, and be sorry for it afterwards.I'd have you know, Sir, that I am as knowing as the stars, and as secret as the night. And I'm going to be married just now, yet did not know of it half an hour ago; and the lady stays for me, and does not know of it yet. There's a mystery for you. I know you love to untie difficulties. Or if you can't solve this, stay here a quarter of an hour, and I'll come and explain it to you. [Exit. Miss P. O father, why will you let him go? Wont you make him to be my husband? For. Mercy on us, what do these lunacies portend? Alas! he's mad, stark wild. Miss P. What, and must not I have e'er a husband then? What, must I go to bed to nurse again, and be a child as long as she's an old woman? Indeed but I wont. For, now my mind is set upon a man, I will have a man some way or other. Ob, methinks I'm sick when I think of a man; and if I can't have one, I would go to sleep all my life; for when I'm awake, it makes me wish and long, and I don't know for what-and I'd rather be always asleep, than sick with thinking. For. O fearful! I think the girl's influenced too.-Hussy, you shall have a rod. For. I think she has not returned since she went abroad with Sir Sampson. Nurse, why are you not gone? Enter BEN. Here's Mr. Benjamin; he can tell us if his father be come home. Ben. Who? Father? Ay, he's come home with a vengeance. Mrs. For. Why, what's the matter? For. Mercy on us? I was afraid of this. Ben. And there's a handsome young woman, she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she's mad too, I think. For. O my poor niece! my poor niece! is she gone too? Well, I shall run mad next. Mrs. For. Well, but how mad? how d'ye mean? Ben. Nay, I'll give you leave to guess-I'll undertake to make a voyage to Antigua.No, I mayn't say so, neither-but I'll sail as far as Leghorn, and back again, before you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit the right. Mrs. For. Your experiment will take up a little too much time. Ben. Why, then, I'll tell you: there's a new wedding upon the stocks, and they two are going to be married to rights. Scand. Who? Scand. 'Sdeath, it is a jest. I can't believe Ben. Look you, friend; it is nothing to me, whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, d'ye see; they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which. For. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not lunatic? Miss P. A fiddle of a rod! I'll bave a hus- Ben. I don't know what you may call madband; and if you wont get me one, I'll get ness-but she's mad for a husband, and he's one for myself. I'll marry our Robin the but-horn-mad, I think, or they'd never make a ler; he says he loves me and he's a handsome match together.-Here they come. man, and shall be my husband: I warrant he'll be my husband, and thank me too; for he told Enter SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, and BUCKRAM Sir S. Where is this old soothsayer? this uncle of mine elect?-Aha! old Foresight! uncle Foresight! wish me joy, uncle Foresight; double joy, both as uncle and astrologer: here's a conjunction that was not foretold in all your Ephemeres! The brightest star in the blue firmament-is shot from above, in a jelly of love, and so forth; and I'm lord of the ascendant. You're an old fellow, Foresight, uncle, I mean; a very old fellow, uncle Foresight; and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding, faith you shall. We'll have the music of the spheres for thee, old Lilly, that we will; and thou shalt lead up a dance in via lactea. For. I'm thunderstruck! You are not married to my niece? Sir S. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it; within a kiss of the matter, as you see. [Kisses ANGELICA. Ang. Tis very true indeed, uncle; I hope you'll be my father, and give me. Sir S. That he shall, or I'll burn his globes. -He shall be thy father: I'll make him thy father, and thou shalt make me a father, and I'll make thee a mother; and we'll beget sons and daughters enough to put the weekly bills out of countenance. Scand. Death and hell! Where's Valentine? [Exit. Mrs. For. This is so surprising— Sir S. How! what does my aunt say? Surprising, aunt? not at all, for a young couple to make a match in winter!-It's a plot to undermine cold weather, and destroy that usurper of a bed called a warming-pan. Mrs. For. I'm glad to hear you have so much fire in you, Sir Sampson. Ben. Mess, I fear his fire's little better than tinder; mayhap it will only serve to light a match for somebody else. The young woman's a handsome young woman, I can't deny it; but father, if I might be your pilot in this case, you should not marry her. It is just the same thing as if so be you should sail as far as the Streights without provision. Sir S. Who gave you authority to speak, sirrah? To your element, fish; be mute, fish, and to sea. Rule your helm, sirrah; don't direct me. Ben. Well, well, take you care of your own helm; or you mayn't keep your new vessel steady. Sir S. Why, you impudent tarpawling! sirrah, do you bring your forecastle jests upon your father? But I shall be even with you; I wont give you a groat. Mr. Buckram, is the conveyance so worded, that nothing can possibly descend to this scoundrel? I would not so much as have him have the prospect of an estate, though there were no way to come to it, but by the north-east passage. For. Why, you told me just now, you went hence in haste to be married! Ang. But, I believe Mr. Tattle meant the favour to me, I thank him. Tut. I did, as I hope to be saved, Madam; my intentions were good. But this is the most cruel thing, to marry one does not know how, nor why, nor wherefore. The devil take me, if ever I was so much concerned at any thing in my life. Ang. 'Tis very unhappy, if you don't care for one another. Tat. The least in the world—that is, for my part, I speak for myself. Gad, I never had the least thought of serious kindness-I never liked any body less in my life. Poor woman! I'm sorry for her too; for I have no reason to hate her neither; but I believe I shall lead her a damned sort of a life. Mrs. For. He's better than no husband at all -though he's a coxcomb. [To FRAIL. Mrs. F. [To her.] Ay, ay, it's well it's no worse. Nay, for my part, I always despised Mr. Tattle of all things; nothing but his being my husband could have made me like him less. Tat. Look you there, I thought as much!Plague on't, I wish we could keep it secret; why, I don't believe any of this company would speak of it. Ben. If you suspect me, friend, I'll go out of the room. Mrs. F. But, my dear, that's impossible; the parson and that rogue Jeremy will publish it. Tat. Ay, my dear, so they will, as you say. Ang. O, you'll agree very well in a little time, custom will make it easy for you. Tat. Easy! Plague on't, I don't believe I shall sleep to-night. Sir S. Sleep! No, why you would not sleep on your wedding-night? I'm an older fellow than you, and don't mean to sleep. Ben. Why, there's another match now, as if a couple of privateers were looking for a prize, and should fall foul of one another. I'm sorry for the young man with all my heart. Look you, friend, if I may advise you, when she's Buck. Sir, it is drawn according to your di-going-for that you must expect, I have exrections; there is not the least part of the law unstopped. Ben. Lawyer, I believe there's many a part and leak unstopped in your conscience! If so be that one had a pump to your bosom, I believe we should discover a foul hold. They say a witch will sail in a sieve-but I believe the devil would not venture aboard your conscience. And that's for you. Sir S. Hold your tongue, sirrah-How now? who's here? Enter TATTLE and MRS. FRAIL. Mrs. F. O, sister, the most unlucky accident! Mrs. For. What's the matter? Tat. O, the two most unfortunate poor creatures in the world we are. For. Bless us! how so? Mrs. F. Ah, Mr. Tattle and I, poor Mr. Tattle and I are-I can't speak it out. Tat. Nor I--But poor Mrs. Frail and I are Mrs. F. Married. For. Married! How? Tat. Suddenly-before we knew where we were that villain Jeremy, by the help of disguises, tricked us into one another. perience of her-when she's going, let her go. For no matrimony is tough enough to hold her; and if she can't drag her anchor along with her, she'll break her cable, I can tell you that.Who's here? the madman? Enter VALENTINE, SCANDAL, and JEREMY. Val. No; here's the fool; and, if occasion be, I'll give it under my hand. Sir S. How now? Val. Sir, I'm come to acknowledge my errors, and ask your pardon. Sir S. What, have you found your senses at last then? In good time, Sir. Val. You were abused, Sir; I never was distracted. For. How not mad, Mr. Scandal? Scand. No, really, Sir; I'm his witness, it was all counterfeit. Val. I thought I had reasons--but it was a poor contrivance: the effect has shown it such. Sir S. Contrivance! what, to cheat me? to cheat your father! Sirrah, could you hope to prosper? Val. Indeed I thought, Sir, when the father endeavoured to undo the son, it was a reasonable return of nature. |