« 上一页继续 »
Love's his distemper, and you must be the physician; put on all your charms, summon all your fire into your eyes, plant the whole artillery of your looks against his breast, and down with him.
Dor. (), sister, I'm but a young gunner, I shall be afraid to shoot, for fear the piece should recoil, and hurt myself.
ilirs. Sul. Never fear, you shall see me shoot before
will. Dor. No no, dear sister, you have missed your mark so unfortunately, that I shan't care for being instructed by you. Enter AIMWELL, in a Chair, carried by ARCHER and
SCAUD; LADY BOUNTIFUL, GIPSEY. AIMWELL counterfeiting' u Swoon. Lucy B. Here,here, let's see-
--the bartshorn dropsGipsey, a glass of fair water, his fit's very strong.Bless me, how his hands are clenched!
Arch. For shame, ladies, what d'ye do? why don't you help us ? ---Pray, madam, [To DORINDA.] take his hand and open it, if you can, whilst I hold his head.
(DORINDA takes his Hand. Dor. Poor gentleman-Oh--he has got my hand within his, and squeezes it unmercifully
Lady B. 'Tis the violence of his convulsion, child.
Arch. Oh, madam, he's perfectly possessed in these cases-- he'll bite you, if you don't have a care.
Dor. Oh, my hand, my hand !
Lady B. What's the matter with the foolish girl? I have got this hand open you see with a great deal
srch, Ay, but, madam, your daughter's hand is somewhat warmer than your ladyship’s, and the heat of it draws the force of the spirits that way.
Airs. Sul. I find, friend, you are very learned in these sort of fits,
Arch. 'Tis no wonder, madam, for I'm often trou
bled with them myself; I find myself extremely ill at this minute. [Looking hard at Mrs. SULLEN.
Mrs. Sul. [Aside.] I fancy I could find a way to cure you.
Lady B. His fit holds hiền very long.
Lady B. Where did his illness take him first, pray ?
Arch. To-day, at church, madam.
Arch. Very strangely, my lady. He was of a sudden touched with something in his eyes, which at the first he only felt, bui could not tell whether 'twas pain or pleasure.
Lady B. Wind, nothing but wind. --Your master should never go without a bottle to sinell toOh! he recovers- the lavender water some feathers to burn under his nose-Hungary water to rub his temples-Oh, he comes to himself. Hem a little, sir, hem----- Gipsey, bring the cordial water.
[AIMWELL seems to awahe in amaze. Dor. How do you, sir ? Aim. Where am I?
[Rising. Sure I have passed the gulf of silent death, And now am landet or the Elysian shore. Behold the godciess of those happy plains, Fair Proserpine--let me adore thy bright divinity.
[Kneels to DORINDA, and kisses her Hand. Mrs. Sul. So, so, so; I knew where the fit would end.
Aim. Eurydice, perhaps---
Lady B. Delirious, poor gentleman.
Arch. Yes, my lord-How does your lordship?
Arch. In very good hands, sir-You were taken just now with one of your old fits, under the trees, just by this good lady's house; her ladyship had you taken in, and has miraculously brought you to yourself, as you see
Aim. I am so confounded with shame, madam, that I can now only beg pardon--- And refer my acknowledgments for your ladyship's care till an opportunity offers of making some amends—I dare be no longer troublesome--Martin, give two guineas to the servants.
[Going. Dor. Sir, you may catch cold by going so soon into the air : you don't look, sir, as if you were perfectly recovered. [ARCHER talks to LADY BOUNTIFUL in dumb Show.
Aim. That I shall never be, madam : my present illness is so rooted, that I must expect to carry it to my grave.
Lady B. Come, sir, your servant has been telling me that you are apt to relapse, if you go into the air -Your good manners shan't get the better of ours You shail sit down again, sir :--Come, sir, we don't mind ceremonies in the country-Here, Gipsey, bring the cordial water.--Here, sir, my service t'ye-You shall taste my water ; 'tis a cordial, I can assure you, and of my own making.
Scrub. Yes, my lady makes very good water.
Lady B. Drink it off, sir : [ALMWELL drinks.] And how d’ye find yourself now, sir?
Aim. Somewhat better though very faint still.
Lady B. Ay, ay, people are always faint after these fits. Come, girls, you shall show the gentleman the house ; 'tis but an old family building, sir; but you had better walk about, and cool by degrees, than venfure immediately into the air-You'll find some to
lerable pictures--Dorinda, show the gentleman the way. I must go to the poor woman below. [Exit. Dor. This
sir. Aim. Ladies, shall I beg leave for my servant to wait on you, for he understands pictures very well.
Mrs. Sul Sir, we understand originals, as well as he does pictures, so he may come along.
[Exeunt DORINDA and AIMWELL, MRS. SUL
LEN and ARCHER-SCRUB sits down.
I hate a priest, I abhor the French, and I defy the devil - - Sir, I'm a bold Briton, and will spill the last drop of my blood to keep out popery and slavery.
Foig. Master Scrub, you would put me down in politics, and so I would be speaking with Mrs. Gipsey.
Scrub. Good Mr. Priest, you can't speak with her; she's sick, sir; she's gone abroad, she's--dead two months ago, sir.
Enter GIPSEY. Gip. How now, impudence ! How dare you talk 50 saucily to the doctor? Pray, sir, don't take it ill ; for the common people of England are not so civil to strangers, as
Scrub. You lie, you lie :--'tis the common people, such as you are, that are civilest to strangers.
Gip. Sirrah, I have a good mind to-Get you out, I say!
Scrub. I won't!
Gip. You won't, sauce-box ! - Pray, doctor, what is the captain's name that came to your inn last night?
Scrub. The captain! ah, the devil, there she hampers me again ;--the captain has me on one side, and
the priest on t'other :-So between the gown and the sword, I have a fine time on't. Gip. What, sirrah, won't
march? Scrub. No, my dear, I won't march-but I'll walk: And I'll make bold to listen a little too.
[Goes behind the Sisle Scene, and listens. Gip. Indeed, doctor, the count has been barbarously treated, that's the truth on't.
Foig. Ah, Mrs. Gipsey, upon my shoul, now, gra, his complainings would mollify the marrow in your bones, and move the bowels of your commiseration; he veeps,
and he dances, and he fistles, and he swears, and he laughs, and he starnps, and he sings : in conclusion, joy, he's afflicted, a la François, and a stranger would not know whider to cry or to laugh with him.
Gip. What would you have me do, doctor?
Foig. Nothing, joy, but only hide the count in Mrs. Sullen's closet, when it is dark.
Gip. Nothing! Is that nothing ? it would be both a sin and a shame, doctor.
Foig. Here is twenty Louis d'ors, joy, for your shame; and I will give you an absolution for the shin.
Gip. But won't that money look like a bribe ?
Foig. Dat is according as you shall take it-If you receive the money before hand, 'twill be logicè, a bribe ; but if you stay till afterwards, 'twill be only a gratification.
Gip. Well, doctor, I'll take it logicè ---But what must I do with my conscience, sir? Foig. Leave dat wid ine, joy; I am your priest, and
your conscience is under my hands. Gip. But should I put the count into the closet
Foig. Vell, is dere any shin for a man's being in a closhet ? one may go to prayers in a closhet.
Gip. But if the lady should come into her chamber and go to bed ?