Susanna Centlivre - The Busie Body
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Susanna Centlivre >> The Busie Body
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Sir _Geo._ Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll rank
me in that Number.
_Marpl._ Sir _George_, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your
Chariot, binds me ever yours.
Sir _Geo._ Trifles, you may command 'em when you please.
_Cha._ Provided he may command you--
_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir _George_, I have the
Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll
tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman--
Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my
Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with
an Air of Business, Ha!
_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman.
Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_
_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are
Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon;
that Sir _Francis Gripe_ is a damn'd old--
_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father--
_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, _Charles_, but it is for your sake I hate
him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety,
makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every
Heir's Jaylor. Egad, _Charles_, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some
_Ward_ too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee
as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality.
Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow.
_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his
Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but
some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner spoils
an Intreague than helps it--
_Marpl._ If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions.
_Cha._ Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife.
_Marpl._ Pish, Pox, that was an Accident.
Sir _Geo._ What was it, prithee?
_Ch._ Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting
Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him along
with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to the
Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the
Letter, and offers her the Horses.
_Marpl._ I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter to
be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid for.
_Cha._ Come, Sir _George_, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for
I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him
to bring me the Answer into the Park.
_Marpl._ Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him.
Sir _Geo._ I must beg your Pardon, _Charles_, I am to meet your Father
here.
_Ch._ My Father!
Sir _Geo._ Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard off;
but I'll not impart till I know the Success.
_Marpl._ What can his Business be with Sir _Francis?_ Now wou'd I give
all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know every Man's
Concern.
(_Aside_.
_Cha._ Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over
a Bottle we'll compare Notes.
_Marpl._ _Charles_ knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make
one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets.
(_Aside._
_Enter _Whisper_._
_Whis._ Sir, Sir, Mis _Patch_ says, _Isabinda_'s Spanish Father has
quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the Park, but he
infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must step again
to know the Hour.
_Marpl._ What did _Whisper_ say now? I shall go stark Mad, if I'm not
let into this Secret.
(_Aside._
_Cha._ Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels Pleasure at
her Name. Sir _George_, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual
Hour.
Sir _Geo._ Agreed; I think I see Sir _Francis_ yonder.
(_Exit._
_Cha._ _Marplot_, you must excuse me, I am engag'd.
(_Exit._
_Marpl._ Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your
Engagement is.
(_Exit._
_Miran._ (_Coming out of a Chair._) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That
dog'd Sir _George_ said he was in the Park.
_Enter _Patch_._
Ha! Mis _Patch_ alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to
bring _Isabinda_ to the Park?
_Patch._ Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched
Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my
Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is
right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible
Fright--At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at
leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he
snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which
my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your
Ladiship with the sad Relation.
_Miran._ Unhappy _Isabinda!_ Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the
Humour of Sir _Jealousie Traffick_.
_Patch._ Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in _Spain_, he vows he'll
spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to
bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious _Spanish_
Customs--He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen
Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten
Child in the City.
_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could
introduce his rigid Rules--does he think we cou'd not match them in
Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if
there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break
'em: Is his Mind set upon the _Spaniard_ for his Son-in-law still?
_Patch._ Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his
Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the
same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladiship.--My
Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir
_Jealousie_ believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is
to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty.
_Miran._ I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her,
or I had not parted with thee to her Father.
_Patch._ But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your
Guardian.
_Miran._ It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, _Patch_.
_Patch._ But is it true, Madam?
_Miran._ That's not absolutely necessary.
_Patch._ I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for
your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind
now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is
with her Father.
_Miran._ No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give
now to be in this _dissabilee_ in the--open Air, nay more, in pursuit of
the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee.
_Patch._ As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't
come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old _Argus_.
_Miran._ Now _Patch_, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes--Ha!
my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir
_Francis_ can't know me in this Dress--Let's observe 'em.
(_They
withdraw._
_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_ and Sir _George Airy_._
Sir _Fran._ Verily, Sir _George_, thou wilt repent throwing away thy
Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, _Miranda_, my Charge do's not love
a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good Husbands; in
sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em.
_Miran._ (_Peeping._) In sober Sadness you are mistaken--what can this
mean?
Sir _Geo._ Look ye, Sir _Francis_, whether she can or cannot abide young
Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty Guineas?
Sir _Fran._ In good truth--I will not, for I knew thy Father, he was a
hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son should squander away
what he sav'd, to no purpose.
_Mirand._ (_Peeping._) Now, in the Name of Wonder, what Bargain can he
be driving about me for fifty Guineas?
_Patch._ I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, Madam.
Sir _Geo._ Well, Sir _Francis_, since you are so conscientious for my
Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, _Gratis_.
_Miran._ (_Peeping._) The Favour! Oh my Life! I believe 'tis as you
said, _Patch_.
Sir _Fran._ No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou wou'd
never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune.
Sir _Geo._ The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty Sum--Let me
see--a Hundred Guineas-- (_Takes 'em out of a Purse and chinks 'em._)
Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a very pleasing Look--But then,
_Miranda_--But if she should be cruel--
_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall--
Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he.
Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't.
_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam?
Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions--
Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.)
_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on
the Rack.
Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it.
Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on.
Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to
move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the space of Ten Minutes, without Lett
or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room.
Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot--
Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha,
in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas.
Sir _Geo._ Take it--
(_Gives him the Purse_.
_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both--
Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day.
Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_
and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last
sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_Chinks 'em_.)
(Exit.
_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_.
Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should
be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally
impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to
her--
_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Say you so? Then I am safe.
Sir _Geo._ What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a thousand
Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm lucky--if
not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away.
(__Miranda_ and _Patch_ come forwards._
_Miran._ Upon what Sir _George?_
Sir _Geo._ Ha! my _Incognito_--upon a Woman, Madam.
_Miran._ They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the
soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your
Return, Sir _George_, Ha, ha!
Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces
with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but
Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy
Face.
_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense--
Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam.
_Patch._ So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir.
Sir _Geo._ No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my
Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger--
_Miran._ Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against
the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband
upon your Forehead--
Sir _Geo._ For my Folly in having so often met you here, without
pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command--But I resolve
e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of
Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the
trouble of doing it for you.
_Miran._ My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir _George_,
which if you'll be so rude to provoke.
Sir _Geo._ You'll apply it to my Cheek--The Ladies Favours are always
Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. (_Taking hold of her_.)
Remember you are in the _Park_, Child, and what a terrible thing would
it be to lose this pretty white Hand.
_Miran._ And how will it sound in a _Chocolate-House_, that Sir _George
Airy_ rudely pull'd off a Ladies Mask, when he had given her his Honour,
that he never would, directly or indirectly endeavour to know her till
she gave him Leave.
_Patch._ I wish we were safe out.
(_Aside._
Sir _Geo._ But if that Lady thinks fit to pursue and meet me at every
turn like some troubl'd Spirit, shall I be blam'd if I inquire into the
Reality? I would have nothing dissatisfy'd in a Female Shape.
_Miran._ What shall I do?
(_Pause._
Sir _Geo._ Ay, prithee consider, for thou shalt find me very much at thy
Service.
_Patch._ Suppose, Sir, the Lady shou'd be in Love with you.
Sir _Geo._ Oh! I'll return the Obligation in a Moment.
_Patch._ And marry her?
Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, that's not the way to Love her Child.
_Miran._ If he discovers me, I shall die--Which way shall I escape?--Let
me see.
(_Pauses._
Sir _Geo._ Well, Madam--
_Miran._ I have it--Sir _George_, 'tis fit you should allow something;
if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you look upon me I
shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I have engag'd you
so often, who I am, and where I live?
Sir _Geo._ Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the
Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a
Secret to me.
(_Aside._
_Patch._ What mean you, Madam?
_Miran._ To get off.
Sir _Geo._ 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a Lady; but
you command and I obey. (_Turns his Back._) Come, Madam, begin--
_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at _Paris_ (_Draws
back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape
and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from
that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the
Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd
know.--
_Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_
_And quit the Place in search of Liberty._
(Exit.
Sir _Geo._ Excellent--I hope she's Handsome--Well, Now, Madam, to the
other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?--I am a Gentleman, and
this Confession will not be lost upon me.--Nay, prithee don't weep, but
go on--for I find my Heart melts in thy Behalf--speak quickly or I shall
turn about--Not yet.--Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and
to do her Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. (_Turns about._)
Ha? gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented--of
_Paris_, Balls, and Birth-Days.--Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to know who
this Gipsie is.--A Curse of my Folly--I deserve to lose her; what Woman
can forgive a Man that turns his Back.
_The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War,
To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way;
The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair,
As Courage makes the rudest Force obey,
Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye,
Closely pursue them and they fall before ye._
The End of the First ACT.
ACT the Second.
_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Miranda_._
Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with Laughing.--The
most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the odious young Fop mean? A
Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, ha.
Sir _Fran._ And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it had been
in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog.
_Mirand._ Indeed and Indeed, but you might _Gardy_.--Now methinks
there's no Body Handsomer than you; So Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd,
and so Loving.--
Sir _Fran._ Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find me, if
thou do'st prefer thy _Gardy_ before these Caperers of the Age, thou
shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an _Opera_ Night; thou shalt be the
Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to _Hide-Park_) and thy Equipage
shall Surpass, the what--d'ye call 'em Ambassadors.
_Miran._ Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me more for
the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside Equipage.
Sir _Fran._ A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one too; and
to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment Disinherit my
Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee.
_Miran._ There's an old Rogue now: (_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I would not
have your Name be so Black in the World--You know my Father's Will runs,
that I am not to possess my Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five
and Twenty; you shall only abate the odd Seven Years, and make me
Mistress of my Estate to Day, and I'll make you Master of my Person to
Morrow.
Sir _Fran._ Humph? that may not be safe--No _Chargy_, I'll Settle it
upon thee for _Pin-mony_; and that will be every bit as well, thou
know'st.
_Miran._ Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own Money--Which
way shall I get out of his Hands?
(_Aside._
Sir _Fran._ Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter
Sir _George?_
_Miran._ I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well:
(_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I have thought of a way will Confound him more
than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years.
Sir _Fran._ How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad--
_Miran._ It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (_Aside._) I'll not
Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says--
Sir _Fran._ Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have
you now, Sir _George_: Dumb! he'll go Distracted--Well, she's the
wittiest Rogue--Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how
damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a
Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha.
_Miran._ Nay, _Gardy_, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd
make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha.
Sir _Fran._ Ay, so it wou'd _Chargy_, to hold him in such Derision, to
scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
_Enter _Charles_._
Sir _Fran._ How now, Sirrah, Who let you in?
_Char._ My Necessity, Sir.
Sir _Fran._ Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and ought to
have sent before they Entred.
_Char._ Sir, I knew 'twas a Word wou'd gain Admittance no where.
Sir _Fran._ Then, Sirrah, how durst you Rudely thrust that upon your
Father, which no Body else wou'd admit?
_Char._ Sure the Name of a Son is a sufficient Plea. I ask this Lady's
Pardon if I have intruded.
Sir _Fran._ Ay, Ay, ask her Pardon and her Blessing too, if you expect
any thing from me.
_Miran._ I believe yours, Sir _Francis_, in a Purse of Guinea's wou'd be
more material. Your Son may have Business with you, I'll retire.
Sir _Fran._ I guess his Business, but I'll dispatch him, I expect the
Knight every Minute: You'll be in Readiness.
_Miran._ Certainly! my Expectation is more upon the wing than yours, old
Gentleman.
[_Exit._
Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir!
_Char._ Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm sure.
Sir _Fran,_ And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd have made
them better.
_Char._ If you please to intrust me with the Management of my Estate, I
shall endeavour it, Sir.
Sir _Fran._ What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at the
Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or by
your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up for
Parliament-Man.
_Char._ I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask only for
what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, Sir.
Sir _Fran._ That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. Adod
these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them to
squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so forth.
_Char._ I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle bred me
like one.
Sir _Fran._ From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, Whoring, and
the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman.
_Char._ Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he falls
into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, employ
Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self.
(_Aside._
Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, what is it you mutter, Sirrah, ha? (_Holds up his
Cane._) I say, you sha'n't have a Groat out of my Hands till I
Please--and may be I'll never Please, and what's that to you?
_Char._ Nay, to be Robb'd, or have one's Throat Cut is not much--
Sir _Fran._ What's that, Sirrah? wou'd ye Rob me, or Cut my Throat, ye
Rogue?
_Char._ Heaven forbid, Sir,--I said no such thing.
Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! What a Plague it is to have a Son of One and
Twenty, who wants to Elbow one out of one's Life, to Edge himself into
the Estate.
_Enter _Marplot_._
_Marpl._ Egad he's here--I was afraid I had lost him: His Secret cou'd
not be with his Father, his Wants are Publick there--Guardian,--your
Servant _Charles_, I know by that sorrowful Countenance of thine. The
old Man's Fist is as close as his strong Box--But I'll help thee--
Sir _Fran._ So: Here's another extravagant Coxcomb, that will spend his
Fortune before he comes to't; but he shall pay swinging Interest, and so
let the Fool go on--Well, what do's Necessity bring you too, Sir?
_Marpl._ You have hit it, Guardian--I want a Hundred Pound.
Sir _Fran._ For what?
_Marpl._ Po'gh, for a Hundred Things, I can't for my Life tell you for
what.
_Char._ Sir, I suppose I have received all the Answer I am like to have.
_Marpl._ Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose him
agen.
Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you please--I
must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in mine.
_Marpl._ Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty haste.
Sir _Fran._ Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be long
plagu'd with thee.
(_Gives him a Note._
_Marpl._ Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have _Charles_ gone
before I come back agen.
(_Runs out._
_Char._ Well, Sir, I take my Leave--But remember, you Expose an only Son
to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too often lays the Plan
for Scenes of Mischief.
Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head,
may prove to thy Advantage.
_Char._ Ha, does he Relent?
Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a
Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the
Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce
thee for nothing.
_Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye.
Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir.
_Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty,
Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag.
Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for
her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you
think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing
with you.
_Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with
half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose
better for your self, I find.
Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my
Marriage, Sirrah.
_Char._ Sir, I obey: But--
Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money
agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without
Reply.
(_Exit _Char_._
_Enter Servant._
_Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir.
_Enter _Marplot_ Running._
_Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian?
Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him.
_Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the
Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now.
I shall certainly lose this Secret.
(_Exit, hastily._
Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk
up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool:
Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass already.
_Enter Sir _George_._
Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd
you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_Chinks
them._) Ha, ha, ha.
Sir _Geo._ Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir _Francis_: Therefore be
brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post--if she's a Woman, and, not
seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his Heart ake; for if
she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll vary a Thousand
Shapes, but find it.
(_Aside._
_Enter _Mirand_._
Sir _Fran._ Agreed--_Miranda._ There Sir _George_, try your Fortune,
(_Takes out his Watch._)
Sir _Geo._
So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun,
Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below.
(_Salutes her._
Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement.
Sir _Geo._ Oh! That's by way of Prologue:--Prithee, Old Mammon, to thy
Post.
Sir _Fran._ Well, young _Timon_, 'tis now 4 exactly; one Hour, remember
is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more.
(_Retires to the bottom of
the Stage._
Sir _Geo._ Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the Author
of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the Life of
your Admirer; your sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love;
your Vivacity a Soul too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd
Mortality.
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