The Old Bachelor
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William Congreve >> The Old Bachelor
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LAET. Oh! I'm sick with the fright; won't you take him out of my
sight?
FOND. O traitor! I'm astonished. O bloody-minded traitor!
SIR JO. Hey-day! Traitor yourself. By the Lord Harry, I was in
most danger of being ravished, if you go to that.
FOND. Oh, how the blasphemous wretch swears! Out of my house,
thou son of the whore of Babylon; offspring of Bel and the Dragon.-
-Bless us! ravish my wife! my Dinah! Oh, Shechemite! Begone, I
say.
SIR JO. Why, the devil's in the people, I think.
SCENE XIX.
LAETITIA, FONDLEWIFE
LAET. Oh! won't you follow, and see him out of doors, my dear?
FOND. I'll shut this door to secure him from coming back--Give me
the key of your cabinet, Cocky. Ravish my wife before my face? I
warrant he's a Papist in his heart at least, if not a Frenchman.
LAET. What can I do now! (Aside.) Oh! my dear, I have been in
such a fright, that I forgot to tell you, poor Mr. Spintext has a
sad fit of the colic, and is forced to lie down upon our bed--
you'll disturb him; I can tread softlier.
FOND. Alack, poor man--no, no--you don't know the papers--I won't
disturb him; give me the key. [She gives him the key, goes to the
chamber door and speaks aloud.]
LAET. 'Tis nobody but Mr. Fondlewife, Mr. Spintext, lie still on
your stomach; lying on your stomach will ease you of the colic.
FOND. Ay, ay, lie still, lie still; don't let me disturb you.
SCENE XX.
LAETITIA alone.
LAET. Sure, when he does not see his face, he won't discover him.
Dear fortune, help me but this once, and I'll never run in thy debt
again. But this opportunity is the Devil.
SCENE XXI.
FONDLEWIFE returns with Papers.
FOND. Good lack! good lack! I profess the poor man is in great
torment; he lies as flat--Dear, you should heat a trencher, or a
napkin.--Where's Deborah? Let her clap some warm thing to his
stomach, or chafe it with a warm hand rather than fail. What
book's this? [Sees the book that BELLMOUR forgot.]
LAET. Mr. Spintext's prayer-book, dear. Pray Heaven it be a
prayer-book. [Aside.]
FOND. Good man! I warrant he dropped it on purpose that you might
take it up and read some of the pious ejaculations. [Taking up the
book.] O bless me! O monstrous! A prayer-book? Ay, this is the
devil's paternoster. Hold, let me see: The Innocent Adultery.
LAET. Misfortune! now all's ruined again. [Aside.]
BELL. [Peeping]. Damned chance! If I had gone a-whoring with the
Practice of Piety in my pocket I had never been discovered.
FOND. Adultery, and innocent! O Lord! Here's doctrine! Ay,
here's discipline!
LAET. Dear husband, I'm amazed. Sure it is a good book, and only
tends to the speculation of sin.
FOND. Speculation! No no; something went farther than speculation
when I was not to be let in.--Where is this apocryphal elder? I'll
ferret him.
LAET. I'm so distracted, I can't think of a lie. [Aside.]
SCENE XXII.
LAETITIA and FONDLEWIFE haling out BELLMOUR.
FOND. Come out here, thou Ananias incarnate. Who, how now! Who
have we here?
LAET. Ha! [Shrieks as surprised.]
FOND. Oh thou salacious woman! Am I then brutified? Ay, I feel
it here; I sprout, I bud, I blossom, I am ripe-horn-mad. But who
in the devil's name are you? Mercy on me for swearing. But -
LAET. Oh! goodness keep us! Who are you? What are you?
BELL. Soh!
LAET. In the name of the--O! Good, my dear, don't come near it;
I'm afraid 'tis the devil; indeed, it has hoofs, dear.
FOND. Indeed, and I have horns, dear. The devil, no, I am afraid
'tis the flesh, thou harlot. Dear, with the pox. Come Syren,
speak, confess, who is this reverend, brawny pastor.
LAET. Indeed, and indeed now, my dear Nykin, I never saw this
wicked man before.
FOND. Oh, it is a man then, it seems.
LAET. Rather, sure it is a wolf in the clothing of a sheep.
FOND. Thou art a devil in his proper clothing--woman's flesh.
What, you know nothing of him, but his fleece here! You don't love
mutton? you Magdalen unconverted.
BELL. Well, now, I know my cue.--That is, very honourably to
excuse her, and very impudently accuse myself. [Aside.]
LAET. Why then, I wish I may never enter into the heaven of your
embraces again, my dear, if ever I saw his face before.
FOND. O Lord! O strange! I am in admiration of your impudence.
Look at him a little better; he is more modest, I warrant you, than
to deny it. Come, were you two never face to face before? Speak.
BELL. Since all artifice is vain. And I think myself obliged to
speak the truth in justice to your wife.--No.
FOND. Humph.
LAET. No, indeed, dear.
FOND. Nay, I find you are both in a story; that I must confess.
But, what--not to be cured of the colic? Don't you know your
patient, Mrs. Quack? Oh, 'lie upon your stomach; lying upon your
stomach will cure you of the colic.' Ah! answer me, Jezebel?
LAET. Let the wicked man answer for himself: does he think I have
nothing to do but excuse him? 'tis enough if I can clear my own
innocence to my own dear.
BELL. By my troth, and so 'tis. I have been a little too
backward; that's the truth on't.
FOND. Come, sir, who are you, in the first place? And what are
you?
BELL. A whore-master.
FOND. Very concise.
LAET. O beastly, impudent creature.
FOND. Well, sir, and what came you hither for?
BELL. To lie with your wife.
FOND. Good again. A very civil person this, and I believe speaks
truth.
LAET. Oh, insupportable impudence.
FOND. Well, sir; pray be covered--and you have--Heh! You have
finished the matter, heh? And I am, as I should be, a sort of
civil perquisite to a whore-master, called a cuckold, heh? Is it
not so? Come, I'm inclining to believe every word you say.
BELL. Why, faith, I must confess, so I designed you; but you were
a little unlucky in coming so soon, and hindered the making of your
own fortune.
FOND. Humph. Nay, if you mince the matter once and go back of
your word you are not the person I took you for. Come, come, go on
boldly.--What, don't be ashamed of your profession.--Confess,
confess; I shall love thee the better for't. I shall, i'feck.
What, dost think I don't know how to behave myself in the
employment of a cuckold, and have been three years apprentice to
matrimony? Come, come; plain dealing is a jewel.
BELL. Well, since I see thou art a good, honest fellow, I'll
confess the whole matter to thee.
FOND. Oh, I am a very honest fellow. You never lay with an
honester man's wife in your life.
LAET. How my heart aches! All my comfort lies in his impudence,
and heaven be praised, he has a considerable portion. [Aside.]
BELL. In short, then, I was informed of the opportunity of your
absence by my spy (for faith, honest Isaac, I have a long time
designed thee this favour). I knew Spintext was to come by your
direction. But I laid a trap for him, and procured his habit, in
which I passed upon your servants, and was conducted hither. I
pretended a fit of the colic, to excuse my lying down upon your
bed; hoping that when she heard of it, her good nature would bring
her to administer remedies for my distemper. You know what might
have followed. But, like an uncivil person, you knocked at the
door before your wife was come to me.
FOND. Ha! This is apocryphal; I may choose whether I will believe
it or no.
BELL. That you may, faith, and I hope you won't believe a word
on't--but I can't help telling the truth, for my life.
FOND. How! would not you have me believe you, say you?
BELL. No; for then you must of consequence part with your wife,
and there will be some hopes of having her upon the public; then
the encouragement of a separate maintenance -
FOND. No, no; for that matter, when she and I part, she'll carry
her separate maintenance about her.
LAET. Ah, cruel dear, how can you be so barbarous? You'll break
my heart, if you talk of parting. [Cries.]
FOND. Ah, dissembling vermin!
BELL. How can'st thou be so cruel, Isaac? Thou hast the heart of
a mountain-tiger. By the faith of a sincere sinner, she's innocent
for me. Go to him, madam, fling your snowy arms about his stubborn
neck; bathe his relentless face in your salt trickling tears. [She
goes and hangs upon his neck, and kisses him. BELLMOUR kisses her
hand behind FONDLEWIFE'S back.] So, a few soft words, and a kiss,
and the good man melts. See how kind nature works, and boils over
in him.
LAET. Indeed, my dear, I was but just come down stairs, when you
knocked at the door; and the maid told me Mr. Spintext was ill of
the colic upon our bed. And won't you speak to me, cruel Nykin?
Indeed, I'll die, if you don't.
FOND. Ah! No, no, I cannot speak, my heart's so full--I have been
a tender husband, a tender yoke-fellow; you know I have.--But thou
hast been a faithless Delilah, and the Philistines--Heh! Art thou
not vile and unclean, heh? Speak. [Weeping.]
LAET. No-h. [Sighing.]
FOND. Oh that I could believe thee!
LAET. Oh, my heart will break. [Seeming to faint.]
FOND. Heh, how! No, stay, stay, I will believe thee, I will.
Pray bend her forward, sir.
LAET. Oh! oh! Where is my dear?
FOND. Here, here; I do believe thee. I won't believe my own eyes.
BELL. For my part, I am so charmed with the love of your turtle to
you, that I'll go and solicit matrimony with all my might and main.
FOND. Well, well, sir; as long as I believe it, 'tis well enough.
No thanks to you, sir, for her virtue.--But, I'll show you the way
out of my house, if you please. Come, my dear. Nay, I will
believe thee, I do, i'feck.
BELL. See the great blessing of an easy faith; opinion cannot err.
No husband, by his wife, can be deceived;
She still is virtuous, if she's so believed.
ACT V.--SCENE I.
SCENE: The Street.
BELLMOUR in fanatic habit, SETTER, HEARTWELL, LUCY.
BELL. Setter! Well encountered.
SET. Joy of your return, sir. Have you made a good voyage? or
have you brought your own lading back?
BELL. No, I have brought nothing but ballast back--made a
delicious voyage, Setter; and might have rode at anchor in the port
till this time, but the enemy surprised us--I would unrig.
SET. I attend you, sir.
BELL. Ha! Is it not that Heartwell at Sylvia's door? Be gone
quickly, I'll follow you--I would not be known. Pox take 'em, they
stand just in my way.
SCENE II.
BELLMOUR, HEARTWELL, LUCY.
HEART. I'm impatient till it be done.
LUCY. That may be, without troubling yourself to go again for your
brother's chaplain. Don't you see that stalking form of godliness?
HEART. O ay; he's a fanatic.
LUCY. An executioner qualified to do your business. He has been
lawfully ordained.
HEART. I'll pay him well, if you'll break the matter to him.
LUCY. I warrant you.--Do you go and prepare your bride.
SCENE III.
BELLMOUR, LUCY.
BELL. Humph, sits the wind there? What a lucky rogue am I! Oh,
what sport will be here, if I can persuade this wench to secrecy!
LUCY. Sir: reverend sir.
BELL. Madam. [Discovers himself.]
LUCY. Now, goodness have mercy upon me! Mr. Bellmour! is it you?
BELL. Even I. What dost think?
LUCY. Think! That I should not believe my eyes, and that you are
not what you seem to be.
BELL. True. But to convince thee who I am, thou knowest my old
token. [Kisses her.]
LUCY. Nay, Mr. Bellmour: O Lard! I believe you are a parson in
good earnest, you kiss so devoutly.
BELL. Well, your business with me, Lucy?
LUCY. I had none, but through mistake.
BELL. Which mistake you must go through with, Lucy. Come, I know
the intrigue between Heartwell and your mistress; and you mistook
me for Tribulation Spintext, to marry 'em--Ha? are not matters in
this posture? Confess: come, I'll be faithful; I will, i'faith.
What! diffide in me, Lucy?
LUCY. Alas-a-day! You and Mr. Vainlove, between you, have ruined
my poor mistress: you have made a gap in her reputation; and can
you blame her if she make it up with a husband?
BELL. Well, is it as I say?
LUCY. Well, it is then: but you'll be secret?
BELL. Phuh, secret, ay. And to be out of thy debt, I'll trust
thee with another secret. Your mistress must not marry Heartwell,
Lucy.
LUCY. How! O Lord!
BELL. Nay, don't be in passion, Lucy:- I'll provide a fitter
husband for her. Come, here's earnest of my good intentions for
thee too; let this mollify. [Gives her money.] Look you,
Heartwell is my friend; and though he be blind, I must not see him
fall into the snare, and unwittingly marry a whore.
LUCY. Whore! I'd have you to know my mistress scorns -
BELL. Nay, nay: look you, Lucy; there are whores of as good
quality. But to the purpose, if you will give me leave to acquaint
you with it. Do you carry on the mistake of me: I'll marry 'em.
Nay, don't pause; if you do, I'll spoil all. I have some private
reasons for what I do, which I'll tell you within. In the
meantime, I promise--and rely upon me--to help your mistress to a
husband: nay, and thee too, Lucy. Here's my hand, I will; with a
fresh assurance. [Gives her more money.]
LUCY. Ah, the devil is not so cunning. You know my easy nature.
Well, for once I'll venture to serve you; but if you do deceive me,
the curse of all kind, tender-hearted women light upon you!
BELL. That's as much as to say, the pox take me. Well, lead on.
SCENE IV.
VAINLOVE, SHARPER, and SETTER.
SHARP. Just now, say you; gone in with Lucy?
SET. I saw him, sir, and stood at the corner where you found me,
and overheard all they said: Mr. Bellmour is to marry 'em.
SHARP. Ha, ha; it will be a pleasant cheat. I'll plague Heartwell
when I see him. Prithee, Frank, let's tease him; make him fret
till he foam at the mouth, and disgorge his matrimonial oath with
interest. Come, thou'rt musty -
SET. [To SHARPER.] Sir, a word with you. [Whispers him.]
VAIN. Sharper swears she has forsworn the letter--I'm sure he
tells me truth;--but I'm not sure she told him truth: yet she was
unaffectedly concerned, he says, and often blushed with anger and
surprise: and so I remember in the park. She had reason, if I
wrong her. I begin to doubt.
SHARP. Say'st thou so?
SET. This afternoon, sir, about an hour before my master received
the letter.
SHARP. In my conscience, like enough.
SET. Ay, I know her, sir; at least, I'm sure I can fish it out of
her: she's the very sluice to her lady's secrets: 'tis but
setting her mill agoing, and I can drain her of 'em all.
SHARP. Here, Frank, your bloodhound has made out the fault: this
letter, that so sticks in thy maw, is counterfeit; only a trick of
Sylvia in revenge, contrived by Lucy.
VAIN. Ha! It has a colour; but how do you know it, sirrah?
SET. I do suspect as much; because why, sir, she was pumping me
about how your worship's affairs stood towards Madam Araminta; as,
when you had seen her last? when you were to see her next? and,
where you were to be found at that time? and such like.
VAIN. And where did you tell her?
SET. In the Piazza.
VAIN. There I received the letter--it must be so--and why did you
not find me out, to tell me this before, sot?
SET. Sir, I was pimping for Mr. Bellmour.
SHARP. You were well employed: I think there is no objection to
the excuse.
VAIN. Pox of my saucy credulity--if I have lost her, I deserve it.
But if confession and repentance be of force, I'll win her, or
weary her into a forgiveness.
SHARP. Methinks I long to see Bellmour come forth.
SCENE V.
SHARPER, BELLMOUR, SETTER.
SET. Talk of the devil: see where he comes.
SHARP. Hugging himself in his prosperous mischief--no real fanatic
can look better pleased after a successful sermon of sedition.
BELL. Sharper! Fortify thy spleen: such a jest! Speak when thou
art ready.
SHARP. Now, were I ill-natured would I utterly disappoint thy
mirth: hear thee tell thy mighty jest with as much gravity as a
bishop hears venereal causes in the spiritual court. Not so much
as wrinkle my face with one smile; but let thee look simply, and
laugh by thyself.
BELL. Pshaw, no; I have a better opinion of thy wit. Gad, I defy
thee.
SHARP. Were it not loss of time you should make the experiment.
But honest Setter, here, overheard you with Lucy, and has told me
all.
BELL. Nay, then, I thank thee for not putting me out of
countenance. But, to tell you something you don't know. I got an
opportunity after I had married 'em, of discovering the cheat to
Sylvia. She took it at first, as another woman would the like
disappointment; but my promise to make her amends quickly with
another husband somewhat pacified her.
SHARP. But how the devil do you think to acquit yourself of your
promise? Will you marry her yourself?
BELL. I have no such intentions at present. Prithee, wilt thou
think a little for me? I am sure the ingenious Mr. Setter will
assist.
SET. O Lord, sir!
BELL. I'll leave him with you, and go shift my habit.
SCENE VI.
SHARPER, SETTER, SIR JOSEPH, and BLUFFE.
SHARP. Heh! Sure fortune has sent this fool hither on purpose.
Setter, stand close; seem not to observe 'em; and, hark ye.
[Whispers.]
BLUFF. Fear him not. I am prepared for him now, and he shall find
he might have safer roused a sleeping lion.
SIR JO. Hush, hush! don't you see him?
BLUFF. Show him to me. Where is he?
SIR JO. Nay, don't speak so loud. I don't jest as I did a little
while ago. Look yonder! Agad, if he should hear the lion roar,
he'd cudgel him into an ass, and his primitive braying. Don't you
remember the story in AEsop's Fables, bully? Agad, there are good
morals to be picked out of AEsop's Fables, let me tell you that,
and Reynard the Fox too.
BLUFF. Damn your morals.
SIR JO. Prithee, don't speak so loud.
BLUFF. Damn your morals; I must revenge the affront done to my
honour. [In a low voice.]
SIR JO. Ay; do, do, captain, if you think fitting. You may
dispose of your own flesh as you think fitting, d'ye see, but, by
the Lord Harry, I'll leave you. [Stealing away upon his tip-toes.]
BLUFF. Prodigious! What, will you forsake your friend in
extremity? You can't in honour refuse to carry him a challenge.
[Almost whispering, and treading softly after him.]
SIR JO. Prithee, what do you see in my face that looks as if I
would carry a challenge? Honour is your province, captain; take
it. All the world know me to be a knight, and a man of worship.
SET. I warrant you, sir, I'm instructed.
SHARP. Impossible! Araminta take a liking to a fool? [Aloud.]
SET. Her head runs on nothing else, nor she can talk of nothing
else.
SHARP. I know she commanded him all the while we were in the Park;
but I thought it had been only to make Vainlove jealous.
SIR JO. How's this! Good bully, hold your breath and let's
hearken. Agad, this must be I.
SHARP. Death, it can't be. An oaf, an idiot, a wittal.
SIR JO. Ay, now it's out; 'tis I, my own individual person.
SHARP. A wretch that has flown for shelter to the lowest shrub of
mankind, and seeks protection from a blasted coward.
SIR JO. That's you, bully back. [BLUFFE frowns upon SIR JOSEPH.]
SHARP. She has given Vainlove her promise to marry him before to-
morrow morning. Has she not? [To SETTER.]
SET. She has, sir; and I have it in charge to attend her all this
evening, in order to conduct her to the place appointed.
SHARP. Well, I'll go and inform your master; and do you press her
to make all the haste imaginable.
SCENE VII.
SETTER, SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE.
SET. Were I a rogue now, what a noble prize could I dispose of! A
goodly pinnace, richly laden, and to launch forth under my
auspicious convoy. Twelve thousand pounds and all her rigging,
besides what lies concealed under hatches. Ha! all this committed
to my care! Avaunt, temptation! Setter, show thyself a person of
worth; be true to thy trust, and be reputed honest. Reputed
honest! Hum: is that all? Ay; for to be honest is nothing; the
reputation of it is all. Reputation! what have such poor rogues as
I to do with reputation? 'tis above us; and for men of quality,
they are above it; so that reputation is even as foolish a thing as
honesty. And, for my part, if I meet Sir Joseph with a purse of
gold in his hand, I'll dispose of mine to the best advantage.
SIR JO. Heh, heh, heh: Here 'tis for you, i'faith, Mr. Setter.
Nay, I'll take you at your word. [Chinking a purse.]
SET. Sir Joseph and the captain, too! undone! undone! I'm undone,
my master's undone, my lady's undone, and all the business is
undone.
SIR JO. No, no; never fear, man; the lady's business shall be
done. What, come, Mr. Setter, I have overheard all, and to speak
is but loss of time; but if there be occasion, let these worthy
gentlemen intercede for me. [Gives him gold.]
SET. O lord, sir, what d'ye mean? Corrupt my honesty? They have
indeed very persuading faces. But -
SIR JO. 'Tis too little, there's more, man. There, take all. Now
-
SET. Well, Sir Joseph, you have such a winning way with you -
SIR JO. And how, and how, good Setter, did the little rogue look
when she talked of Sir Joseph? Did not her eyes twinkle and her
mouth water? Did not she pull up her little bubbies? And--agad,
I'm so overjoyed--And stroke down her belly? and then step aside to
tie her garter when she was thinking of her love? Heh, Setter!
SET. Oh, yes, sir.
SIR JO. How now, bully? What, melancholy because I'm in the
lady's favour? No matter, I'll make your peace: I know they were
a little smart upon you. But I warrant I'll bring you into the
lady's good graces.
BLUFF. Pshaw, I have petitions to show from other-guess toys than
she. Look here; these were sent me this morning. There, read.
[Shows letters]. That--that's a scrawl of quality. Here, here's
from a countess too. Hum--No, hold--that's from a knight's wife--
she sent it me by her husband. But here, both these are from
persons of great quality.
SIR JO. They are either from persons of great quality, or no
quality at all, 'tis such a damned ugly hand. [While SIR JOSEPH
reads, BLUFFE whispers SETTER.]
SET. Captain, I would do anything to serve you; but this is so
difficult.
BLUFF. Not at all. Don't I know him?
SET. You'll remember the conditions?
BLUFF. I'll give it you under my hand. In the meantime, here's
earnest. [Gives him money.] Come, knight, I'm capitulating with
Mr. Setter for you.
SIR JO. Ah, honest Setter; sirrah, I'll give thee anything but a
night's lodging.
SCENE VIII.
SHARPER tugging in HEARTWELL.
SHARP. Nay, prithee leave railing, and come along with me. May be
she mayn't be within. 'Tis but to yond corner-house.
HEART. Whither? Whither? Which corner-house.
SHARP. Why, there: the two white posts.
HEART. And who would you visit there, say you? (O'ons, how my
heart aches.)
SHARP. Pshaw, thou'rt so troublesome and inquisitive. My, I'll
tell you; 'tis a young creature that Vainlove debauched and has
forsaken. Did you never hear Bellmour chide him about Sylvia?
HEART. Death, and hell, and marriage! My wife! [Aside.]
SHARP. Why, thou art as musty as a new-married man that had found
his wife knowing the first night.
HEART. Hell, and the Devil! Does he know it? But, hold; if he
should not, I were a fool to discover it. I'll dissemble, and try
him. [Aside.] Ha, ha, ha. Why, Tom, is that such an occasion of
melancholy? Is it such an uncommon mischief?
SHARP. No, faith; I believe not. Few women but have their year of
probation before they are cloistered in the narrow joys of wedlock.
But, prithee, come along with me or I'll go and have the lady to
myself. B'w'y George. [Going.]
HEART. O torture! How he racks and tears me! Death! Shall I own
my shame or wittingly let him go and whore my wife? No, that's
insupportable. O Sharper!
SHARP. How now?
HEART. Oh, I am married.
SHARP. (Now hold, spleen.) Married!
HEART. Certainly, irrecoverably married.
SHARP. Heaven forbid, man! How long?
HEART. Oh, an age, an age! I have been married these two hours.
SHARP. My old bachelor married! That were a jest. Ha, ha, ha.
HEART. Death! D'ye mock me? Hark ye, if either you esteem my
friendship, or your own safety--come not near that house--that
corner-house--that hot brothel. Ask no questions.
SHARP. Mad, by this light.
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure:
Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
SCENE IX.
SHARPER, SETTER.
SET. Some by experience find these words misplaced:
At leisure married, they repent in haste.
As I suppose my master Heartwell.
SHARP. Here again, my Mercury!
SET. Sublimate, if you please, sir: I think my achievements do
deserve the epithet--Mercury was a pimp too, but, though I blush to
own it, at this time, I must confess I am somewhat fallen from the
dignity of my function, and do condescend to be scandalously
employed in the promotion of vulgar matrimony.
SHARP. As how, dear, dexterous pimp?
SET. Why, to be brief, for I have weighty affairs depending--our
stratagem succeeded as you intended--Bluffe turns errant traitor;
bribes me to make a private conveyance of the lady to him, and put
a shame-settlement upon Sir Joseph.
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