Love for Love

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

TATT. Not in my power, madam! What, does your ladyship mean that I
have no woman's reputation in my power?

SCAN. 'Oons, why, you won't own it, will you? [Aside.]

TATT. Faith, madam, you're in the right; no more I have, as I hope
to be saved; I never had it in my power to say anything to a lady's
prejudice in my life. For as I was telling you, madam, I have been
the most unsuccessful creature living, in things of that nature; and
never had the good fortune to be trusted once with a lady's secret,
not once.

ANG. No?

VAL. Not once, I dare answer for him.

SCAN. And I'll answer for him; for I'm sure if he had, he would
have told me; I find, madam, you don't know Mr Tattle.

TATT. No indeed, madam, you don't know me at all, I find. For sure
my intimate friends would have known -

ANG. Then it seems you would have told, if you had been trusted.

TATT. O pox, Scandal, that was too far put. Never have told
particulars, madam. Perhaps I might have talked as of a third
person; or have introduced an amour of my own, in conversation, by
way of novel; but never have explained particulars.

ANG. But whence comes the reputation of Mr Tattle's secrecy, if he
was never trusted?

SCAN. Why, thence it arises--the thing is proverbially spoken; but
may be applied to him--as if we should say in general terms, he only
is secret who never was trusted; a satirical proverb upon our sex.
There's another upon yours--as she is chaste, who was never asked
the question. That's all.

VAL. A couple of very civil proverbs, truly. 'Tis hard to tell
whether the lady or Mr Tattle be the more obliged to you. For you
found her virtue upon the backwardness of the men; and his secrecy
upon the mistrust of the women.

TATT. Gad, it's very true, madam, I think we are obliged to acquit
ourselves. And for my part--but your ladyship is to speak first.

ANG. Am I? Well, I freely confess I have resisted a great deal of
temptation.

TATT. And i'Gad, I have given some temptation that has not been
resisted.

VAL. Good.

ANG. I cite Valentine here, to declare to the court, how fruitless
he has found his endeavours, and to confess all his solicitations
and my denials.

VAL. I am ready to plead not guilty for you; and guilty for myself.

SCAN. So, why this is fair, here's demonstration with a witness.

TATT. Well, my witnesses are not present. But I confess I have had
favours from persons. But as the favours are numberless, so the
persons are nameless.

SCAN. Pooh, this proves nothing.

TATT. No? I can show letters, lockets, pictures, and rings; and if
there be occasion for witnesses, I can summon the maids at the
chocolate-houses, all the porters at Pall Mall and Covent Garden,
the door-keepers at the Playhouse, the drawers at Locket's,
Pontack's, the Rummer, Spring Garden, my own landlady and valet de
chambre; all who shall make oath that I receive more letters than
the Secretary's office, and that I have more vizor-masks to enquire
for me, than ever went to see the Hermaphrodite, or the Naked
Prince. And it is notorious that in a country church once, an
enquiry being made who I was, it was answered, I was the famous
Tattle, who had ruined so many women.

VAL. It was there, I suppose, you got the nickname of the Great
Turk.

TATT. True; I was called Turk-Tattle all over the parish. The next
Sunday all the old women kept their daughters at home, and the
parson had not half his congregation. He would have brought me into
the spiritual court, but I was revenged upon him, for he had a
handsome daughter whom I initiated into the science. But I repented
it afterwards, for it was talked of in town. And a lady of quality
that shall be nameless, in a raging fit of jealousy, came down in
her coach and six horses, and exposed herself upon my account; Gad,
I was sorry for it with all my heart. You know whom I mean--you
know where we raffled -

SCAN. Mum, Tattle.

VAL. 'Sdeath, are not you ashamed?

ANG. O barbarous! I never heard so insolent a piece of vanity.
Fie, Mr Tattle; I'll swear I could not have believed it. Is this
your secrecy?

TATT. Gadso, the heat of my story carried me beyond my discretion,
as the heat of the lady's passion hurried her beyond her reputation.
But I hope you don't know whom I mean; for there was a great many
ladies raffled. Pox on't, now could I bite off my tongue.

SCAN. No, don't; for then you'll tell us no more. Come, I'll
recommend a song to you upon the hint of my two proverbs, and I see
one in the next room that will sing it. [Goes to the door.]

TATT. For heaven's sake, if you do guess, say nothing; Gad, I'm
very unfortunate.

SCAN. Pray sing the first song in the last new play.

SONG.

Set by Mr John Eccles.

I.

A nymph and a swain to Apollo once prayed,
The swain had been jilted, the nymph been betrayed:
Their intent was to try if his oracle knew
E'er a nymph that was chaste, or a swain that was true.

II.

Apollo was mute, and had like t'have been posed,
But sagely at length he this secret disclosed:
He alone won't betray in whom none will confide,
And the nymph may be chaste that has never been tried.

SCENE IV.

[To them] SIR SAMPSON, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE, and SERVANT.

SIR SAMP. Is Ben come? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't.
Where is he? I long to see him. Now, Mrs Frail, you shall see my
son Ben. Body o' me, he's the hopes of my family. I han't seen him
these three years--I warrant he's grown. Call him in, bid him make
haste. I'm ready to cry for joy.

MRS FRAIL. Now Miss, you shall see your husband.

MISS. Pish, he shall be none of my husband. [Aside to Frail.]

MRS FRAIL. Hush. Well he shan't; leave that to me. I'll beckon Mr
Tattle to us.

ANG. Won't you stay and see your brother?

VAL. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere; when he
rises I must set. Besides, if I should stay, I don't know but my
father in good nature may press me to the immediate signing the deed
of conveyance of my estate; and I'll defer it as long as I can.
Well, you'll come to a resolution.

ANG. I can't. Resolution must come to me, or I shall never have
one.

SCAN. Come, Valentine, I'll go with you; I've something in my head
to communicate to you.

SCENE V.

ANGELICA, SIR SAMPSON, TATTLE, MRS FRAIL, MISS PRUE.

SIR SAMP. What, is my son Valentine gone? What, is he sneaked off,
and would not see his brother? There's an unnatural whelp! There's
an ill-natured dog! What, were you here too, madam, and could not
keep him? Could neither love, nor duty, nor natural affection
oblige him? Odsbud, madam, have no more to say to him, he is not
worth your consideration. The rogue has not a drachm of generous
love about him--all interest, all interest; he's an undone
scoundrel, and courts your estate: body o' me, he does not care a
doit for your person.

ANG. I'm pretty even with him, Sir Sampson; for if ever I could
have liked anything in him, it should have been his estate too; but
since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears.

SIR SAMP. Odsbud, well spoken, and you are a wiser woman than I
thought you were, for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted
with a naked hook.

ANG. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I'm for a good estate with any man,
and for any man with a good estate; therefore, if I were obliged to
make a choice, I declare I'd rather have you than your son.

SIR SAMP. Faith and troth, you're a wise woman, and I'm glad to
hear you say so; I was afraid you were in love with the reprobate.
Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart. Hang him, mongrel, cast
him off; you shall see the rogue show himself, and make love to some
desponding Cadua of fourscore for sustenance. Odd, I love to see a
young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like
ivy round a dead oak; faith I do, I love to see 'em hug and cotton
together, like down upon a thistle.

SCENE VI.

[To them] BEN LEGEND and SERVANT.

BEN. Where's father?

SERV. There, sir, his back's toward you.

SIR SAMP. My son Ben! Bless thee, my dear body. Body o' me, thou
art heartily welcome.

BEN. Thank you, father, and I'm glad to see you.

SIR SAMP. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee; kiss me, boy, kiss me
again and again, dear Ben. [Kisses him.]

BEN. So, so, enough, father, Mess, I'd rather kiss these
gentlewomen.

SIR SAMP. And so thou shalt. Mrs Angelica, my son Ben.

BEN. Forsooth, if you please. [Salutes her.] Nay, mistress, I'm
not for dropping anchor here; about ship, i'faith. [Kisses Frail.]
Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat--so [Kisses Miss].

TATT. Sir, you're welcome ashore.

BEN. Thank you, thank you, friend.

SIR SAMP. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw
thee.

BEN. Ay, ay, been! Been far enough, an' that be all. Well,
father, and how do all at home? How does brother Dick, and brother
Val?

SIR SAMP. Dick--body o' me--Dick has been dead these two years. I
writ you word when you were at Leghorn.

BEN. Mess, that's true; marry! I had forgot. Dick's dead, as you
say. Well, and how? I have a many questions to ask you. Well, you
ben't married again, father, be you?

SIR SAMP. No; I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not marry for
thy sake.

BEN. Nay, what does that signify? An' you marry again--why then,
I'll go to sea again, so there's one for t'other, an' that be all.
Pray don't let me be your hindrance--e'en marry a God's name, an the
wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry.

FRAIL. That would be pity--such a handsome young gentleman.

BEN. Handsome! he, he, he! nay, forsooth, an you be for joking,
I'll joke with you, for I love my jest, an' the ship were sinking,
as we sayn at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards
matrimony. I love to roam about from port to port, and from land to
land; I could never abide to be port-bound, as we call it. Now, a
man that is married has, as it were, d'ye see, his feet in the
bilboes, and mayhap mayn't get them out again when he would.

SIR SAMP. Ben's a wag.

BEN. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man
than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors; he is chained to
an oar all his life, and mayhap forced to tug a leaky vessel into
the bargain.

SIR SAMP. A very wag--Ben's a very wag; only a little rough, he
wants a little polishing.

MRS FRAIL. Not at all; I like his humour mightily: it's plain and
honest--I should like such a humour in a husband extremely.

BEN. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a
handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you,
mistress, would you like going to sea? Mess, you're a tight vessel,
an well rigged, an you were but as well manned.

MRS FRAIL. I should not doubt that if you were master of me.

BEN. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high
wind, or that lady--you may'nt carry so much sail o' your head--top
and top gallant, by the mess.

MRS FRAIL. No, why so?

BEN. Why, an you do, you may run the risk to be overset, and then
you'll carry your keels above water, he, he, he!

ANG. I swear, Mr Benjamin is the veriest wag in nature--an absolute
sea-wit.

SIR SAMP. Nay, Ben has parts, but as I told you before, they want a
little polishing. You must not take anything ill, madam.

BEN. No, I hope the gentlewoman is not angry; I mean all in good
part, for if I give a jest, I'll take a jest, and so forsooth you
may be as free with me.

ANG. I thank you, sir, I am not at all offended. But methinks, Sir
Sampson, you should leave him alone with his mistress. Mr Tattle,
we must not hinder lovers.

TATT. Well, Miss, I have your promise. [Aside to Miss.]

SIR SAMP. Body o' me, madam, you say true. Look you, Ben, this is
your mistress. Come, Miss, you must not be shame-faced; we'll leave
you together.

MISS. I can't abide to be left alone; mayn't my cousin stay with
me?

SIR SAMP. No, no. Come, let's away.

BEN. Look you, father, mayhap the young woman mayn't take a liking
to me.

SIR SAMP. I warrant thee, boy: come, come, we'll be gone; I'll
venture that.

SCENE VII.

BEN, and MISS PRUE.

BEN. Come mistress, will you please to sit down? for an you stand a
stern a that'n, we shall never grapple together. Come, I'll haul a
chair; there, an you please to sit, I'll sit by you.

MISS. You need not sit so near one, if you have anything to say, I
can hear you farther off, I an't deaf.

BEN. Why that's true, as you say, nor I an't dumb, I can be heard
as far as another,--I'll heave off, to please you. [Sits farther
off.] An we were a league asunder, I'd undertake to hold discourse
with you, an 'twere not a main high wind indeed, and full in my
teeth. Look you, forsooth, I am, as it were, bound for the land of
matrimony; 'tis a voyage, d'ye see, that was none of my seeking. I
was commanded by father, and if you like of it, mayhap I may steer
into your harbour. How say you, mistress? The short of the thing
is, that if you like me, and I like you, we may chance to swing in a
hammock together.

MISS. I don't know what to say to you, nor I don't care to speak
with you at all.

BEN. No? I'm sorry for that. But pray why are you so scornful?

MISS. As long as one must not speak one's mind, one had better not
speak at all, I think, and truly I won't tell a lie for the matter.

BEN. Nay, you say true in that, it's but a folly to lie: for to
speak one thing, and to think just the contrary way is, as it were,
to look one way, and to row another. Now, for my part, d'ye see,
I'm for carrying things above board, I'm not for keeping anything
under hatches,--so that if you ben't as willing as I, say so a God's
name: there's no harm done; mayhap you may be shame-faced; some
maidens thof they love a man well enough, yet they don't care to
tell'n so to's face. If that's the case, why, silence gives
consent.

MISS. But I'm sure it is not so, for I'll speak sooner than you
should believe that; and I'll speak truth, though one should always
tell a lie to a man; and I don't care, let my father do what he
will; I'm too big to be whipt, so I'll tell you plainly, I don't
like you, nor love you at all, nor never will, that's more: so
there's your answer for you; and don't trouble me no more, you ugly
thing.

BEN. Look you, young woman, you may learn to give good words,
however. I spoke you fair, d'ye see, and civil. As for your love
or your liking, I don't value it of a rope's end; and mayhap I like
you as little as you do me: what I said was in obedience to father.
Gad, I fear a whipping no more than you do. But I tell you one
thing, if you should give such language at sea, you'd have a cat o'
nine tails laid cross your shoulders. Flesh! who are you? You
heard t'other handsome young woman speak civilly to me of her own
accord. Whatever you think of yourself, gad, I don't think you are
any more to compare to her than a can of small-beer to a bowl of
punch.

MISS. Well, and there's a handsome gentleman, and a fine gentleman,
and a sweet gentleman, that was here that loves me, and I love him;
and if he sees you speak to me any more, he'll thrash your jacket
for you, he will, you great sea-calf.

BEN. What, do you mean that fair-weather spark that was here just
now? Will he thrash my jacket? Let'n,--let'n. But an he comes
near me, mayhap I may giv'n a salt eel for's supper, for all that.
What does father mean to leave me alone as soon as I come home with
such a dirty dowdy? Sea-calf? I an't calf enough to lick your
chalked face, you cheese-curd you: --marry thee? Oons, I'll marry a
Lapland witch as soon, and live upon selling contrary winds and
wrecked vessels.

MISS. I won't be called names, nor I won't be abused thus, so I
won't. If I were a man [cries]--you durst not talk at his rate.
No, you durst not, you stinking tar-barrel.

SCENE VIII.

[To them] MRS FORESIGHT and MRS FRAIL.

MRS FORE. They have quarrelled, just as we could wish.

BEN. Tar-barrel? Let your sweetheart there call me so, if he'll
take your part, your Tom Essence, and I'll say something to him;
gad, I'll lace his musk-doublet for him, I'll make him stink: he
shall smell more like a weasel than a civet-cat, afore I ha' done
with 'en.

MRS FORE. Bless me, what's the matter, Miss? What, does she cry?
Mr Benjamin, what have you done to her?

BEN. Let her cry: the more she cries the less she'll--she has been
gathering foul weather in her mouth, and now it rains out at her
eyes.

MRS FORE. Come, Miss, come along with me, and tell me, poor child.

MRS FRAIL. Lord, what shall we do? There's my brother Foresight
and Sir Sampson coming. Sister, do you take Miss down into the
parlour, and I'll carry Mr Benjamin into my chamber, for they must
not know that they are fallen out. Come, sir, will you venture
yourself with me? [Looking kindly on him.]

BEN. Venture, mess, and that I will, though 'twere to sea in a
storm.

SCENE IX.

SIR SAMPSON and FORESIGHT.

SIR SAMP. I left 'em together here; what, are they gone? Ben's a
brisk boy: he has got her into a corner; father's own son, faith,
he'll touzle her, and mouzle her. The rogue's sharp set, coming
from sea; if he should not stay for saving grace, old Foresight, but
fall to without the help of a parson, ha? Odd, if he should I could
not be angry with him; 'twould be but like me, a chip of the old
block. Ha! thou'rt melancholic, old Prognostication; as melancholic
as if thou hadst spilt the salt, or pared thy nails on a Sunday.
Come, cheer up, look about thee: look up, old stargazer. Now is he
poring upon the ground for a crooked pin, or an old horse-nail, with
the head towards him.

FORE. Sir Sampson, we'll have the wedding to-morrow morning.

SIR SAMP. With all my heart.

FORE. At ten a'clock, punctually at ten.

SIR SAMP. To a minute, to a second; thou shalt set thy watch, and
the bridegroom shall observe its motions; they shall be married to a
minute, go to bed to a minute; and when the alarm strikes, they
shall keep time like the figures of St. Dunstan's clock, and
consummatum est shall ring all over the parish.

SCENE X.

[To them] SCANDAL.

SCAN. Sir Sampson, sad news.

FORE. Bless us!

SIR SAMP. Why, what's the matter?

SCAN. Can't you guess at what ought to afflict you and him, and all
of us, more than anything else?

SIR SAMP. Body o' me, I don't know any universal grievance, but a
new tax, or the loss of the Canary fleet. Unless popery should be
landed in the West, or the French fleet were at anchor at Blackwall.

SCAN. No. Undoubtedly, Mr Foresight knew all this, and might have
prevented it.

FORE. 'Tis no earthquake!

SCAN. No, not yet; nor whirlwind. But we don't know what it may
come to. But it has had a consequence already that touches us all.

SIR SAMP. Why, body o' me, out with't.

SCAN. Something has appeared to your son Valentine. He's gone to
bed upon't, and very ill. He speaks little, yet he says he has a
world to say. Asks for his father and the wise Foresight; talks of
Raymond Lully, and the ghost of Lilly. He has secrets to impart, I
suppose, to you two. I can get nothing out of him but sighs. He
desires he may see you in the morning, but would not be disturbed
to-night, because he has some business to do in a dream.

SIR SAMP. Hoity toity, what have I to do with his dreams or his
divination? Body o' me, this is a trick to defer signing the
conveyance. I warrant the devil will tell him in a dream that he
must not part with his estate. But I'll bring him a parson to tell
him that the devil's a liar: --or if that won't do, I'll bring a
lawyer that shall out-lie the devil. And so I'll try whether my
blackguard or his shall get the better of the day.

SCENE XI.

SCANDAL, FORESIGHT.

SCAN. Alas, Mr Foresight, I'm afraid all is not right. You are a
wise man, and a conscientious man, a searcher into obscurity and
futurity, and if you commit an error, it is with a great deal of
consideration, and discretion, and caution -

FORE. Ah, good Mr Scandal -

SCAN. Nay, nay, 'tis manifest; I do not flatter you. But Sir
Sampson is hasty, very hasty. I'm afraid he is not scrupulous
enough, Mr Foresight. He has been wicked, and heav'n grant he may
mean well in his affair with you. But my mind gives me, these
things cannot be wholly insignificant. You are wise, and should not
be over-reached, methinks you should not -

FORE. Alas, Mr Scandal,--humanum est errare.

SCAN. You say true, man will err; mere man will err--but you are
something more. There have been wise men; but they were such as
you, men who consulted the stars, and were observers of omens.
Solomon was wise, but how?--by his judgment in astrology. So says
Pineda in his third book and eighth chapter -

FORE. You are learned, Mr Scandal.

SCAN. A trifler--but a lover of art. And the Wise Men of the East
owed their instruction to a star, which is rightly observed by
Gregory the Great in favour of astrology. And Albertus Magnus makes
it the most valuable science, because, says he, it teaches us to
consider the causation of causes, in the causes of things.

FORE. I protest I honour you, Mr Scandal. I did not think you had
been read in these matters. Few young men are inclined -

SCAN. I thank my stars that have inclined me. But I fear this
marriage and making over this estate, this transferring of a
rightful inheritance, will bring judgments upon us. I prophesy it,
and I would not have the fate of Cassandra not to be believed.
Valentine is disturbed; what can be the cause of that? And Sir
Sampson is hurried on by an unusual violence. I fear he does not
act wholly from himself; methinks he does not look as he used to do.

FORE. He was always of an impetuous nature. But as to this
marriage, I have consulted the stars, and all appearances are
prosperous -

SCAN. Come, come, Mr Foresight, let not the prospect of worldly
lucre carry you beyond your judgment, nor against your conscience.
You are not satisfied that you act justly.

FORE. How?

SCAN. You are not satisfied, I say. I am loth to discourage you,
but it is palpable that you are not satisfied.

FORE. How does it appear, Mr Scandal? I think I am very well
satisfied.

SCAN. Either you suffer yourself to deceive yourself, or you do not
know yourself.

FORE. Pray explain yourself.

SCAN. Do you sleep well o' nights?

FORE. Very well.

SCAN. Are you certain? You do not look so.

FORE. I am in health, I think.

SCAN. So was Valentine this morning; and looked just so.

FORE. How? Am I altered any way? I don't perceive it.

SCAN. That may be, but your beard is longer than it was two hours
ago.

FORE. Indeed! Bless me!

SCENE XII.

[To them] MRS FORESIGHT.

MRS FORE. Husband, will you go to bed? It's ten a'clock. Mr
Scandal, your servant.

SCAN. Pox on her, she has interrupted my design--but I must work
her into the project. You keep early hours, madam.

MRS FORE. Mr Foresight is punctual; we sit up after him.

FORE. My dear, pray lend me your glass, your little looking-glass.

SCAN. Pray lend it him, madam. I'll tell you the reason.

[She gives him the glass: SCANDAL and she whisper.] My passion for
you is grown so violent, that I am no longer master of myself. I
was interrupted in the morning, when you had charity enough to give
me your attention, and I had hopes of finding another opportunity of
explaining myself to you, but was disappointed all this day; and the
uneasiness that has attended me ever since brings me now hither at
this unseasonable hour.

MRS FORE. Was there ever such impudence, to make love to me before
my husband's face? I'll swear I'll tell him.

SCAN. Do. I'll die a martyr rather than disclaim my passion. But
come a little farther this way, and I'll tell you what project I had
to get him out of the way; that I might have an opportunity of
waiting upon you. [Whisper. FORESIGHT looking in the glass.]

FORE. I do not see any revolution here; methinks I look with a
serene and benign aspect--pale, a little pale--but the roses of
these cheeks have been gathered many years;--ha! I do not like that
sudden flushing. Gone already! hem, hem, hem! faintish. My heart
is pretty good; yet it beats; and my pulses, ha!--I have none--mercy
on me--hum. Yes, here they are--gallop, gallop, gallop, gallop,
gallop, gallop, hey! Whither will they hurry me? Now they're gone
again. And now I'm faint again, and pale again, and hem! and my
hem! breath, hem! grows short; hem! hem! he, he, hem!

SCAN. It takes: pursue it in the name of love and pleasure.

MRS FORE. How do you do, Mr Foresight!

FORE. Hum, not so well as I thought I was. Lend me your hand.

SCAN. Look you there now. Your lady says your sleep has been
unquiet of late.

FORE. Very likely.

MRS FORE. Oh, mighty restless, but I was afraid to tell him so. He
has been subject to talking and starting.

SCAN. And did not use to be so?

MRS FORE. Never, never, till within these three nights; I cannot
say that he has once broken my rest since we have been married.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8