The Double Dealer

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SIR PAUL. With all my heart. Mr. Brisk, you'll come to us, or call
me when you joke; I'll be ready to laugh incontinently.

SCENE V.

MELLEFONT, CARELESS, LORD FROTH, BRISK.

MEL. But does your lordship never see comedies?

LORD FROTH. Oh yes, sometimes; but I never laugh.

MEL. No?

LORD FROTH. Oh no; never laugh indeed, sir.

CARE. No! why, what d'ye go there for?

LORD FROTH. To distinguish myself from the commonalty and mortify
the poets; the fellows grow so conceited, when any of their foolish
wit prevails upon the side-boxes. I swear,--he, he, he, I have
often constrained my inclinations to laugh,--he, he, he, to avoid
giving them encouragement.

MEL. You are cruel to yourself, my lord, as well as malicious to
them.

LORD FROTH. I confess I did myself some violence at first, but now
I think I have conquered it.

BRISK. Let me perish, my lord, but there is something very
particular in the humour; 'tis true it makes against wit, and I'm
sorry for some friends of mine that write; but, i'gad, I love to be
malicious. Nay, deuce take me, there's wit in't, too. And wit must
be foiled by wit; cut a diamond with a diamond, no other way, i'gad.

LORD FROTH. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found
out the wit.

CARE. Wit! In what? Where the devil's the wit in not laughing
when a man has a mind to't?

BRISK. O Lord, why can't you find it out? Why, there 'tis, in the
not laughing. Don't you apprehend me? My lord, Careless is a very
honest fellow, but harkee, you understand me, somewhat heavy, a
little shallow, or so. Why, I'll tell you now, suppose now you come
up to me--nay, prithee, Careless, be instructed. Suppose, as I was
saying, you come up to me holding your sides, and laughing as if you
would--well--I look grave, and ask the cause of this immoderate
mirth. You laugh on still, and are not able to tell me, still I
look grave, not so much as smile.

CARE. Smile, no, what the devil should you smile at, when you
suppose I can't tell you!

BRISK. Pshaw, pshaw, prithee don't interrupt me. But I tell you,
you shall tell me at last, but it shall be a great while first.

CARE. Well, but prithee don't let it be a great while, because I
long to have it over.

BRISK. Well then, you tell me some good jest or some very witty
thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to die, and I
hear it, and look thus. Would not you be disappointed?

CARE. No; for if it were a witty thing I should not expect you to
understand it.

LORD FROTH. Oh, foy, Mr. Careless, all the world allows Mr. Brisk
to have wit; my wife says he has a great deal. I hope you think her
a judge.

BRISK. Pooh, my lord, his voice goes for nothing; I can't tell how
to make him apprehend. Take it t'other way. Suppose I say a witty
thing to you?

CARE. Then I shall be disappointed indeed.

MEL. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obstinately bent not to be
instructed.

BRISK. I'm sorry for him, the deuce take me.

MEL. Shall we go to the ladies, my lord?

LORD FROTH. With all my heart; methinks we are a solitude without
'em.

MEL. Or what say you to another bottle of champagne?

LORD FROTH. Oh, for the universe not a drop more, I beseech you.
Oh, intemperate! I have a flushing in my face already. [Takes out
a pocket-glass and looks in it.]

BRISK. Let me see, let me see, my lord, I broke my glass that was
in the lid of my snuff-box. Hum! Deuce take me, I have encouraged
a pimple here too. [Takes the glass and looks.]

LORD FROTH. Then you must mortify him with a patch; my wife shall
supply you. Come, gentlemen, ALLONS, here is company coming.

SCENE VI.

LADY TOUCHWOOD and MASKWELL.

LADY TOUCH. I'll hear no more. You are false and ungrateful; come,
I know you false.

MASK. I have been frail, I confess, madam, for your ladyship's
service.

LADY TOUCH. That I should trust a man whom I had known betray his
friend!

MASK. What friend have I betrayed? or to whom?

LADY TOUCH. Your fond friend Mellefont, and to me; can you deny it?

MASK. I do not.

LADY TOUCH. Have you not wronged my lord, who has been a father to
you in your wants, and given you being? Have you not wronged him in
the highest manner, in his bed?

MASK. With your ladyship's help, and for your service, as I told
you before. I can't deny that neither. Anything more, madam?

LADY TOUCH. More! Audacious villain! Oh, what's more, is most my
shame. Have you not dishonoured me?

MASK. No, that I deny; for I never told in all my life: so that
accusation's answered; on to the next.

LADY TOUCH. Death, do you dally with my passion? Insolent devil!
But have a care,--provoke me not; for, by the eternal fire, you
shall not 'scape my vengeance. Calm villain! How unconcerned he
stands, confessing treachery and ingratitude! Is there a vice more
black? Oh, I have excuses thousands for my faults; fire in my
temper, passions in my soul, apt to ev'ry provocation, oppressed at
once with love, and with despair. But a sedate, a thinking villain,
whose black blood runs temperately bad, what excuse can clear?

MASK. Will you be in temper, madam? I would not talk not to be
heard. I have been [she walks about disordered] a very great rogue
for your sake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a rogue
still, to do you service; and you are flinging conscience and honour
in my face, to rebate my inclinations. How am I to behave myself?
You know I am your creature, my life and fortune in your power; to
disoblige you brings me certain ruin. Allow it I would betray you,
I would not be a traitor to myself: I don't pretend to honesty,
because you know I am a rascal; but I would convince you from the
necessity of my being firm to you.

LADY TOUCH. Necessity, impudence! Can no gratitude incline you, no
obligations touch you? Have not my fortune and my person been
subjected to your pleasure? Were you not in the nature of a
servant, and have not I in effect made you lord of all, of me, and
of my lord? Where is that humble love, the languishing, that
adoration, which once was paid me, and everlastingly engaged?

MASK. Fixt, rooted in my heart, whence nothing can remove 'em, yet
you -

LADY TOUCH. Yet, what yet?

MASK. Nay, misconceive me not, madam, when I say I have had a
gen'rous and a faithful passion, which you had never favoured, but
through revenge and policy.

LADY TOUCH. Ha!

MASK. Look you, madam, we are alone,--pray contain yourself and
hear me. You know you loved your nephew when I first sighed for
you; I quickly found it: an argument that I loved, for with that
art you veiled your passion 'twas imperceptible to all but jealous
eyes. This discovery made me bold; I confess it; for by it I
thought you in my power. Your nephew's scorn of you added to my
hopes; I watched the occasion, and took you, just repulsed by him,
warm at once with love and indignation; your disposition, my
arguments, and happy opportunity accomplished my design; I pressed
the yielding minute, and was blest. How I have loved you since,
words have not shown, then how should words express?

LADY TOUCH. Well, mollifying devil! And have I not met your love
with forward fire?

MASK. Your zeal, I grant, was ardent, but misplaced; there was
revenge in view; that woman's idol had defiled the temple of the
god, and love was made a mock-worship. A son and heir would have
edged young Mellefont upon the brink of ruin, and left him none but
you to catch at for prevention.

LADY TOUCH. Again provoke me! Do you wind me like a larum, only to
rouse my own stilled soul for your diversion? Confusion!

MASK. Nay, madam, I'm gone, if you relapse. What needs this? I
say nothing but what you yourself, in open hours of love, have told
me. Why should you deny it? Nay, how can you? Is not all this
present heat owing to the same fire? Do you not love him still?
How have I this day offended you, but in not breaking off his match
with Cynthia? which, ere to-morrow, shall be done, had you but
patience.

LADY TOUCH. How, what said you, Maskwell? Another caprice to
unwind my temper?

MASK. By heav'n, no; I am your slave, the slave of all your
pleasures; and will not rest till I have given you peace, would you
suffer me.

LADY TOUCH. O Maskwell! in vain I do disguise me from thee, thou
know'st me, knowest the very inmost windings and recesses of my
soul. O Mellefont! I burn; married to morrow! Despair strikes me.
Yet my soul knows I hate him too: let him but once be mine, and
next immediate ruin seize him.

MASK. Compose yourself, you shall possess and ruin him too,--will
that please you?

LADY TOUCH. How, how? Thou dear, thou precious villain, how?

MASK. You have already been tampering with my Lady Plyant.

LADY TOUCH. I have: she is ready for any impression I think fit.

MASK. She must be throughly persuaded that Mellefont loves her.

LADY TOUCH. She is so credulous that way naturally, and likes him
so well, that she will believe it faster than I can persuade her.
But I don't see what you can propose from such a trifling design,
for her first conversing with Mellefont will convince her of the
contrary.

MASK. I know it. I don't depend upon it. But it will prepare
something else, and gain us leisure to lay a stronger plot. If I
gain a little time, I shall not want contrivance.

One minute gives invention to destroy,
What to rebuild will a whole age employ.

ACT II.--SCENE I.

LADY FROTH and CYNTHIA.

CYNT. Indeed, madam! Is it possible your ladyship could have been
so much in love?

LADY FROTH. I could not sleep; I did not sleep one wink for three
weeks together.

CYNT. Prodigious! I wonder want of sleep, and so much love and so
much wit as your ladyship has, did not turn your brain.

LADY FROTH. Oh, my dear Cynthia, you must not rally your friend.
But really, as you say, I wonder too. But then I had a way. For,
between you and I, I had whimsies and vapours, but I gave them vent.

CYNT. How, pray, madam?

LADY FROTH. Oh, I writ, writ abundantly. Do you never write?

CYNT. Write what?

LADY FROTH. Songs, elegies, satires, encomiums, panegyrics,
lampoons, plays, or heroic poems?

CYNT. O Lord, not I, madam; I'm content to be a courteous reader.

LADY FROTH. Oh, inconsistent! In love and not write! If my lord
and I had been both of your temper, we had never come together. Oh,
bless me! What a sad thing would that have been, if my lord and I
should never have met!

CYNT. Then neither my lord nor you would ever have met with your
match, on my conscience.

LADY FROTH. O' my conscience, no more we should; thou say'st right.
For sure my Lord Froth is as fine a gentleman and as much a man of
quality! Ah! nothing at all of the common air. I think I may say
he wants nothing but a blue ribbon and a star to make him shine, the
very phosphorus of our hemisphere. Do you understand those two hard
words? If you don't, I'll explain 'em to you.

CYNT. Yes, yes, madam, I'm not so ignorant.--At least I won't own
it, to be troubled with your instructions. [Aside.]

LADY FROTH. Nay, I beg your pardon; but being derived from the
Greek, I thought you might have escaped the etymology. But I'm the
more amazed to find you a woman of letters and not write! Bless me!
how can Mellefont believe you love him?

CYNT. Why, faith, madam, he that won't take my word shall never
have it under my hand.

LADY FROTH. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, but methinks he
wants a manner.

CYNT. A manner! What's that, madam?

LADY FROTH. Some distinguishing quality, as, for example, the BEL
AIR or BRILLANT of Mr. Brisk; the solemnity, yet complaisance of my
lord, or something of his own that should look a little JE-NE-SAIS-
QUOISH; he is too much a mediocrity, in my mind.

CYNT. He does not indeed affect either pertness or formality; for
which I like him. Here he comes.

LADY FROTH. And my lord with him. Pray observe the difference.

SCENE II.

[To them] LORD FROTH, MELLEFONT, and BRISK.

CYNT. Impertinent creature! I could almost be angry with her now.
[Aside.]

LADY FROTH. My lord, I have been telling Cynthia how much I have
been in love with you; I swear I have; I'm not ashamed to own it
now. Ah! it makes my heart leap, I vow I sigh when I think on't.
My dear lord! Ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my lord? [Squeezes him
by the hand, looks kindly on him, sighs, and then laughs out.]

LORD FROTH. Pleasant creature! perfectly well, ah! that look, ay,
there it is; who could resist? 'twas so my heart was made a captive
first, and ever since t'has been in love with happy slavery.

LADY FROTH. Oh, that tongue, that dear deceitful tongue! that
charming softness in your mien and your expression, and then your
bow! Good my lord, bow as you did when I gave you my picture; here,
suppose this my picture. [Gives him a pocket-glass.] Pray mind, my
lord; ah! he bows charmingly; nay, my lord, you shan't kiss it so
much; I shall grow jealous, I vow now. [He bows profoundly low,
then kisses the glass.]

LORD FROTH. I saw myself there, and kissed it for your sake.

LADY FROTH. Ah! Gallantry to the last degree. Mr. Brisk, you're a
judge; was ever anything so well bred as my lord?

BRISK. Never anything, but your ladyship; let me perish.

LADY FROTH. Oh, prettily turned again; let me die, but you have a
great deal of wit. Mr. Mellefont, don't you think Mr. Brisk has a
world of wit?

MEL. O yes, madam.

BRISK. O dear, madam -

LADY FROTH. An infinite deal!

BRISK. O heav'ns, madam -

LADY FROTH. More wit than anybody.

BRISK. I'm everlastingly your humble servant, deuce take me, madam.

LORD FROTH. Don't you think us a happy couple?

CYNT. I vow, my lord, I think you the happiest couple in the world,
for you're not only happy in one another, and when you are together,
but happy in yourselves, and by yourselves.

LORD FROTH. I hope Mellefont will make a good husband too.

CYNT. 'Tis my interest to believe he will, my Lord.

LORD FROTH. D'ye think he'll love you as well as I do my wife? I'm
afraid not.

CYNT. I believe he'll love me better.

LORD FROTH. Heav'ns! that can never be. But why do you think so?

CYNT. Because he has not so much reason to be fond of himself.

LORD FROTH. Oh, your humble servant for that, dear madam. Well,
Mellefont, you'll be a happy creature.

MEL. Ay, my lord, I shall have the same reason for my happiness
that your lordship has, I shall think myself happy.

LORD FROTH. Ah, that's all.

BRISK. [To LADY FROTH.] Your ladyship is in the right; but, i'gad,
I'm wholly turned into satire. I confess I write but seldom, but
when I do--keen iambics, i'gad. But my lord was telling me your
ladyship has made an essay toward an heroic poem.

LADY FROTH. Did my lord tell you? Yes, I vow, and the subject is
my lord's love to me. And what do you think I call it? I dare
swear you won't guess--THE SILLABUB, ha, ha, ha.

BRISK. Because my lord's title's Froth, i'gad, ha, ha, ha, deuce
take me, very e propos and surprising, ha, ha, ha.

LADY FROTH. He, ay, is not it? And then I call my lord Spumoso;
and myself, what d'ye think I call myself?

BRISK. Lactilla, may be,--i'gad, I cannot tell.

LADY FROTH. Biddy, that's all; just my own name.

BRISK. Biddy! I'gad, very pretty. Deuce take me if your ladyship
has not the art of surprising the most naturally in the world. I
hope you'll make me happy in communicating the poem.

LADY FROTH. Oh, you must be my confidant, I must ask your advice.

BRISK. I'm your humble servant, let me perish. I presume your
ladyship has read Bossu?

LADY FROTH. Oh yes, and Racine, and Dacier upon Aristotle and
Horace. My lord, you must not be jealous, I'm communicating all to
Mr. Brisk.

LORD FROTH. No, no, I'll allow Mr. Brisk; have you nothing about
you to shew him, my dear?

LADY FROTH. Yes, I believe I have. Mr. Brisk, come, will you go
into the next room? and there I'll shew you what I have.

LORD FROTH. I'll walk a turn in the garden, and come to you.

SCENE III.

MELLEFONT, CYNTHIA.

MEL. You're thoughtful, Cynthia?

CYNT. I'm thinking, though marriage makes man and wife one flesh,
it leaves 'em still two fools; and they become more conspicuous by
setting off one another.

MEL. That's only when two fools meet, and their follies are
opposed.

CYNT. Nay, I have known two wits meet, and by the opposition of
their wit render themselves as ridiculous as fools. 'Tis an odd
game we're going to play at. What think you of drawing stakes, and
giving over in time?

MEL. No, hang't, that's not endeavouring to win, because it's
possible we may lose; since we have shuffled and cut, let's even
turn up trump now.

CYNT. Then I find it's like cards, if either of us have a good hand
it is an accident of fortune.

MEL. No, marriage is rather like a game at bowls: fortune indeed
makes the match, and the two nearest, and sometimes the two
farthest, are together, but the game depends entirely upon judgment.

CYNT. Still it is a game, and consequently one of us must be a
loser.

MEL. Not at all; only a friendly trial of skill, and the winnings
to be laid out in an entertainment. What's here, the music? Oh, my
lord has promised the company a new song; we'll get 'em to give it
us by the way. [Musicians crossing the stage.] Pray let us have
the favour of you, to practise the song before the company hear it.

SONG.

I.

Cynthia frowns whene'er I woo her,
Yet she's vext if I give over;
Much she fears I should undo her,
But much more to lose her lover:
Thus, in doubting, she refuses;
And not winning, thus she loses.

II.

Prithee, Cynthia, look behind you,
Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you;
Then too late desire will find you,
When the power must forsake you:
Think, O think o' th' sad condition,
To be past, yet wish fruition.

MEL. You shall have my thanks below. [To the musicians, they go
out.]

SCENE IV.

[To them] SIR PAUL PLYANT and LADY PLYANT.

SIR PAUL. Gadsbud! I am provoked into a fermentation, as my Lady
Froth says; was ever the like read of in story?

LADY PLYANT. Sir Paul, have patience, let me alone to rattle him
up.

SIR PAUL. Pray, your ladyship, give me leave to be angry. I'll
rattle him up, I warrant you, I'll firk him with a CERTIORARI.

LADY PLYANT. You firk him, I'll firk him myself; pray, Sir Paul,
hold you contented.

CYNT. Bless me, what makes my father in such a passion? I never
saw him thus before.

SIR PAUL. Hold yourself contented, my Lady Plyant. I find passion
coming upon me by inflation, and I cannot submit as formerly,
therefore give way.

LADY PLYANT. How now! will you be pleased to retire and -

SIR PAUL. No, marry will I not be pleased: I am pleased to be
angry, that's my pleasure at this time.

MEL. What can this mean?

LADY PLYANT. Gads my life, the man's distracted; why, how now, who
are you? What am I? Slidikins, can't I govern you? What did I
marry you for? Am I not to be absolute and uncontrollable? Is it
fit a woman of my spirit and conduct should be contradicted in a
matter of this concern?

SIR PAUL. It concerns me and only me. Besides, I'm not to be
governed at all times. When I am in tranquillity, my Lady Plyant
shall command Sir Paul; but when I am provoked to fury, I cannot
incorporate with patience and reason: as soon may tigers match with
tigers, lambs with lambs, and every creature couple with its foe, as
the poet says.

LADY PLYANT. He's hot-headed still! 'Tis in vain to talk to you;
but remember I have a curtain-lecture for you, you disobedient,
headstrong brute.

SIR PAUL. No, 'tis because I won't be headstrong, because I won't
be a brute, and have my head fortified, that I am thus exasperated.
But I will protect my honour, and yonder is the violator of my fame.

LADY PLYANT. 'Tis my honour that is concerned, and the violation
was intended to me. Your honour! You have none but what is in my
keeping, and I can dispose of it when I please: therefore don't
provoke me.

SIR PAUL. Hum, gadsbud, she says true. Well, my lady, march on; I
will fight under you, then: I am convinced, as far as passion will
permit. [LADY PLYANT and SIR PAUL come up to MELLEFONT.]

LADY PLYANT. Inhuman and treacherous -

SIR PAUL. Thou serpent and first tempter of womankind.

CYNT. Bless me! Sir, madam, what mean you?

SIR PAUL. Thy, Thy, come away, Thy; touch him not. Come hither,
girl; go not near him, there's nothing but deceit about him. Snakes
are in his peruke, and the crocodile of Nilus is in his belly; he
will eat thee up alive.

LADY PLYANT. Dishonourable, impudent creature!

MEL. For heav'n's sake, madam, to whom do you direct this language?

LADY PLYANT. Have I behaved myself with all the decorum and nicety
befitting the person of Sir Paul's wife? Have I preserved my honour
as it were in a snow-house for these three years past? Have I been
white and unsullied even by Sir Paul himself?

SIR PAUL. Nay, she has been an invincible wife, even to me; that's
the truth on't.

LADY PLYANT. Have I, I say, preserved myself like a fair sheet of
paper for you to make a blot upon?

SIR PAUL. And she shall make a simile with any woman in England.

MEL. I am so amazed, I know not what to say.

SIR PAUL. Do you think my daughter, this pretty creature--gadsbud,
she's a wife for a cherubim!--do you think her fit for nothing but
to be a stalking horse, to stand before you, while you take aim at
my wife? Gadsbud, I was never angry before in my life, and I'll
never be appeased again.

MEL. Hell and damnation! This is my aunt; such malice can be
engendered nowhere else. [Aside.]

LADY PLYANT. Sir Paul, take Cynthia from his sight; leave me to
strike him with the remorse of his intended crime.

CYNT. Pray, sir, stay, hear him; I dare affirm he's innocent.

SIR PAUL. Innocent! Why, hark'ee--come hither, Thy--hark'ee, I had
it from his aunt, my sister Touchwood. Gadsbud, he does not care a
farthing for anything of thee but thy portion. Why, he's in love
with my wife. He would have tantalised thee, and made a cuckold of
thy poor father, and that would certainly have broke my heart. I'm
sure, if ever I should have horns, they would kill me; they would
never come kindly--I should die of 'em like a child that was cutting
his teeth--I should indeed, Thy--therefore come away; but providence
has prevented all, therefore come away when I bid you.

CYNT. I must obey.

SCENE V.

LADY PLYANT, MELLEFONT.

LADY PLYANT. Oh, such a thing! the impiety of it startles me--to
wrong so good, so fair a creature, and one that loves you tenderly--
'tis a barbarity of barbarities, and nothing could be guilty of it -

MEL. But the greatest villain imagination can form, I grant it; and
next to the villainy of such a fact is the villainy of aspersing me
with the guilt. How? which way was I to wrong her? For yet I
understand you not.

LADY PLYANT. Why, gads my life, cousin Mellefont, you cannot be so
peremptory as to deny it, when I tax you with it to your face? for
now Sir Paul's gone, you are CORUM NOBUS.

MEL. By heav'n, I love her more than life or -

LADY PLYANT. Fiddle faddle, don't tell me of this and that, and
everything in the world, but give me mathemacular demonstration;
answer me directly. But I have not patience. Oh, the impiety of
it, as I was saying, and the unparalleled wickedness! O merciful
Father! How could you think to reverse nature so, to make the
daughter the means of procuring the mother?

MEL. The daughter to procure the mother!

LADY PLYANT. Ay, for though I am not Cynthia's own mother, I am her
father's wife, and that's near enough to make it incest.

MEL. Incest! O my precious aunt, and the devil in conjunction.
[Aside.]

LADY PLYANT. Oh, reflect upon the horror of that, and then the
guilt of deceiving everybody; marrying the daughter, only to make a
cuckold of the father; and then seducing me, debauching my purity,
and perverting me from the road of virtue in which I have trod thus
long, and never made one trip, not one FAUX PAS. Oh, consider it!
What would you have to answer for if you should provoke me to
frailty? Alas! humanity is feeble, heav'n knows! very feeble, and
unable to support itself.

MEL. Where am I? is it day? and am I awake? Madam -

LADY PLYANT. And nobody knows how circumstances may happen
together. To my thinking, now I could resist the strongest
temptation. But yet I know, 'tis impossible for me to know whether
I could or not; there's no certainty in the things of this life.

MEL. Madam, pray give me leave to ask you one question.

LADY PLYANT. O Lord, ask me the question; I'll swear I'll refuse
it, I swear I'll deny it--therefore don't ask me; nay, you shan't
ask me, I swear I'll deny it. O Gemini, you have brought all the
blood into my face; I warrant I am as red as a turkey-cock. O fie,
cousin Mellefont!

MEL. Nay, madam, hear me; I mean -

LADY PLYANT. Hear you? No, no; I'll deny you first and hear you
afterwards. For one does not know how one's mind may change upon
hearing. Hearing is one of the senses, and all the senses are
fallible. I won't trust my honour, I assure you; my honour is
infallible and uncomeatable.

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