you'll put me out. What shall I play?—He will go back with his answer in good time. Let his master wait till it suits our conveniency. Nineteen, clubs where shall I go now? : Mus. Have done with your folly, Mr Impertipent! My lady desires to know Wil. I tell you, woman, my master and I desire to have nothing to do with you and your lady. Twenty, diamonds. [Plays. Mus. But I tell you, Mr Brazen, that my lady desires to know at what hour your master came home last night, and how he does this morning? Wil. Ridiculous! Don't disturb us with that nonsense now; you see I am not at leisure. I and my master are resolved to be teased no more by you; and so, Mrs Go-between, you may return as you came. What the devil shall I play? We will have nothing to do with you, I tell you. Mus. You'll have nothing to do with us? But you shall have to do with us, or I'll know the reason why. [She snatches the cards from him, and throws them about.] Wil. Death and fury! this meddling woman has destroyed my whole game. A man might as well be married, as be treated in this fashion. Side. I shall score you for this, Mr William: I was sure of the cards, and that would have made me up. Wil. No, you'll score nothing for this. You win too much of me. I am a very pretty annuity to you. Side. Annuity, say you? I lose a fortune to you in the course of the year. How could you, Mrs Muslin, behave in this sort to persons of our dignity? Mus. Decamp with your dignity; take your answer to your master: turn upon your rogue's heel, and rid the house. Side. I shan't dispute with you. I hate wrangling: I leave that to lawyers and married people; they have nothing else to do. Mr William, I shall let sir Bashful know, that Mr Lovemore will be at home for him. When you come to our house, I'll give you your revenge. We can have a snug party there, and I promise you a glass of choice Champaigne : it happens to be a good batch; sir Bashful gets none of it: I keep it for my own friends. Au revoir. [Erit. Wil. [To MUSLIN.] You see what mischief you have made. Mus. Truce with your foolery; and now, sir, be so obliging as to send my lady an answer to her questions: How and when your rakehelly master came home last night? Wil. I'll tell you one thing, Mrs Muslin; you and my master will be the death of me at last. In the name of charity, what do you both take me for? Whatever appearances may be, I am but of mortal mould; nothing supernatural about me. Mus. Upon my word, Mr Powder-Puff!Will. I have not, indeed; and flesh and blood, let me tell you, can't hold it always at this rate. I can't be for ever a slave to Mr Lovemore's eternal frolics, and to your second-hand airs. Mus. Second-hand airs! Wil. Yes, second-hand airs! you take them at your ladies' toilets with their cast gowns, and so you descend to us with them.-And then, on the other hand, there's my master!—Because he chooses to live upon the principal of his health, and so run out his whole stock as fast as he can, he must have my company with him in his devil's dance to the other world! Never at home till three, four, five, six in the morning. Mus. Ay, a vile, ungrateful man! always ranging abroad, and no regard for a wife that dotes upon him. And your love for me is all of a piece. I have no patience with you both; a couple of false, perfidious, abandoned profligates! Wil. Hey! where is your tongue running? My master, as the world goes, is a good sort of a civil kind of a husband; and I, heaven help me! a poor simpleton of a constant, amorous puppy, who bears with all the whims of my little tyrant here. Come and kiss me, you jade; come and kiss me. Mus. Paws off, Cæsar. Don't think to make me your dupe. I know when you go with him to this new lady, this Bath acquaintance; and I know you are as false as my master, and give all my dues to yours Mrs Mignionet there. Wil. Hush! not a word of that. I am ruined, pressed, and sent on board a tender directly, if you blab that I trusted you with that secret. But to charge me with falsehood!injustice and ingratitude!My master, to be sure, does drink an agreeable dish of tea with the widow. He has been there every evening this month past. How long things are to be in this train, Heaven only knows. But he does visit there, and I attend him. I ask my master, sir, says I, what time will you please to want me? He fixes the hour, and I strut by Mrs Mignionet, without so much as tipping her a single glance. She stands watering at the mouth, and a pretty fellow that, says she: Ay gaze on, say I, gaze on: I know what you would be at: you would be glad to have me: but sour grapes, my dear; and so home I come, to cherish my own lovely little wanton: you know I do, and after toying with thee, I fly back to my master, later indeed than he appoints, but always too soon for him. He is loth to part: he lingers and dangles, and I stand cooling my heels. Oh! to the devil I pitch such a life! Mus. Why don't you strive to reclaim the vile man? Wil. Softly; not so fast. I have my talent to be sure; yes, I must acknowledge some talent. But can you suppose that I have power to turn the drift of his inclinations? Can I give him a new taste, and lead him as I please? And to whom? To his wife? Ridiculous! A wife has no attraction now; the spring of the passions flies back; it won't do. Mus. Fine talking! and you admire yourself for it, don't you? Can you proceed, sir? Wil. I tell you a wife is out of date; the time was-but that's all over; a wife is a drug now; mere tarwater, with every virtue under heaven, but nobody takes it. Mus. Have done, or I'll print these ter nails upon your rogue's face. Wil. Come and kiss me, I say. Mus. A fiddlestick for your kisses, while you encourage your master to open rebellion against the best of wives. Wil. I tell you 'tis all her own fault. Why does not she study to please him as you do me. Come and throw your arms about my neck. Mus. As I used to do, Mr Impudence? Wil. Then I must force you to your own good. [Kisses her.] Pregnant with delight! egad, if my master was not in the next room [Bell rings. Mus. Hush! my lady's bell: how long has he been up? Wil. He has been up-[Kisses her.] 'Sdeath! you have set me all on fire. [Kisses her. Mus. There, there; have done now; the bell rings again. What must I say? When did he come home? Wil. He came home-[Kisses her.] he came home at five this morning; damned himself for a blockhead; [Kisses.] went to bed in a surly humour; was tired of himself and every body else, [Bell rings, he kisses her.] and he is now tip-toe spirits with sir Brilliant Fashion in that room yonder. Mus. Sir Brilliant Fashion! I wish my lady would mind what he says to her-You great bear! you have given me such a flush in my face! [Takes a pocket looking-glass.] I look pretty well, I think. There [Kisses him.], have done, and let me be gone. [Exit. Wil. There goes high and low life contrasted in one person. She has not dived to the bottom of my master's secrets; that's one good thing. What she knows, she'll blab. We shall hear of this widow from Bath: but the plot lies deeper than they are aware of. Inquire they will; and let them, say I; their answer will do them no good. Mr Lovemore visit the widow Bellmour? We know no such person.' That's what they'll get for their pains. Their puzzle will be greater than ever, and they may sit down to chew the cud of disappointed malice. Hush! my master and sir Brilliant; I'll take care of a single rogue, and get me out of their way. [Exit. Love. My dear sir Brilliant, I must both pity and laugh at you. Thou art metamorphosed into the most whimsical being! Sir Bril. If your raillery diverts you, go on with it. This is always the case: apply for sober advice, and your friend plays you off with a joke. Love. Sober advice! very far gone, indeed.-There is no such thing as talking soberly to the tribe of lovers. That eternal absence of mind that possesses you all! There is no society with you. I was damnable company myself, when I was one of the pining herd: but a dose of matrimony has cooled me pretty handsomely; and here comes repetatur haustus. Enter MUSLIN. Mus. My lady sends her compliments, and begs to know how you do this morning. Love. [Aside to SIR BRILLIANT.] The novelty of the compliment is enlivening-It is the devil to be teased in this manner. What did you say, child? Mus. My lady hopes you find yourself well this morning. Love. Ay, your lady: give her my compliments, and tell her-and tell her I hope she is well, and[Yawns. Mus. She begs you won't think of going out, without seeing her. Love. To be sure, she has such variety every time one sees her-my head aches woefullytell your lady-I shall be glad to see her; I'll wait on her-[Yawns.]-tell her what you will. Mus. A brute! I shall let my lady know, sir. [Exit Mus. Love. My dear sir Brilliant, you see me an example before your eyes. Put the widow Bellmour out of your head, and let my lord Etheridge be the victim for you. Sir Bril. Positively no; my pride is picqued. My lord Etheridge shall find me a more formidable rival than he imagines. By the way, how long has the noble peer been in England? Love. His motions are unknown to me. [Aside.] I don't like that question. His lordship is in France, is not he? Sir Bril. No; he is certainly returned. The match is to be concluded privately. He visits her incog. Love. [Forcing a laugh.] Oh! no; that cannot be; my lord Etheridge loves parade. I cannot help laughing. The jealousy of you lovers is for ever conjuring up phantoms to torment yourselves. My dear sir Brilliant, wait for realities; there are enough in life, and you may teach your fancy to be at rest, and give you no further trouble. Sir Bril. Nay, don't let your fancy run away with you. What I tell you, is the real truth. Love. Well, if it be true, and if lord Ethe ridge is come to England to marry, do you go to France not to marry, and you will have the best of the bargain. Enter WILLIAM. Wil. Sir Bashful Constant is in his chariot at the upper end of the street, and if your honour is at leisure, he will wait upon you. Love. Have not I sent him word I should be at home? Let him come as soon as he will.[Exit WILLIAM.] Another instance, sir Brilliant, to deter you from all thoughts of matri mony. Sir Bril. Po! hang him! he is no precedent for me. A younger brother, who lived in middling life, comes to a title and an estate on the death of a consumptive baronet; marries a woman of quality, and now carries the primitive ideas of his narrow education into high life.Don't you remember, when he had chambers in Fig-tree-court, and used to saunter and lounge away his time in Temple coffee-houses? The fellow is as dull as a bill in Chancery. Love. But he is improved since that time. Sir Bril. Impossible; don't you see how he goes on? He knows nothing of the world; if his eyes meet yours, he blushes up to his ears, and looks suspicious, as if he imagined you had a design upon him. Love. I can explain that part of his character. He has a mortal aversion to wit and raillery, and dreads nothing so much as being laughed at for being particular. Sir Bril. And so, fearing to be ridiculous, he becomes substantially so every moment. Love. Even so; and if you look at him, he shrinks back from your observation, casting a sly, slow, jealous eye all around him, like Miss Bumpkin in a country village, awkwardly endeavouring to conceal what the increase of her shape discovers to the whole parish. Sir Bril. And then his behaviour to his lady! Love. Why, as to that point, I don't think he hates her. His fear of ridicule may be at the bottom. He has strange notions about the dignity of a husband. There is a secret, which he would fain tell me, and yet he is shy, and he hints, and he hesitates, and then he retreats back into himself, and ends just where he began. But with all his faults, he has fits of good nature. There; his chariot's at the door. Sir Bril. Lady Constant, you mean, has fits of good nature. Have you made any progress there? Love. That's well from you, who are the formidable man in that quarter. Sir Bril. Oh! no; positively, no pretence, no colour for it. Love. Well, that's generous-hush! I hear him coming. Sir Brilliant, I admire your amorous charity of all things! Enter SIR BASHFUL CONSTANT. Sir Bash. Mr Lovemore, I have taken the liberty-but you seem to be busy, and 1 intrude, perhaps. Love. Oh, by no means: walk in, Sir Bash ful. Sir Bash. Sir Brilliant, I am glad to see you. [Bows awkwardly. Sir Bril. You do me honour, sir. I hope you left my lady well. Sir Bash. I can't say, sir; I am not her physician. Sir Bril. [Aside.] An absurd brute! Lovemore, I'll just step and pay a short visit to our friend over the way. Love. Why in such a hurry? Sir Bril. I shall return immediately. I'll be with you before you are dressed. Sir Bashful, I kiss your hand. [Exit. Sir Bash. I am glad he is gone. I have something, Mr Lovemore, that I want to advise with you about. Love. Have you? Sir Bash. I have had another brush with my wife. Love. I am sorry for it, sir Bashful. [Aside.] I am perfectly glad of it. She Sir Bash. Pretty warm the quarrel was. took it in a high tone. Sir Bashful,' says she, I wonder you will disgrace yourself at this rate. You know my pin-money is not sufficient. The mercer and every body dunning me! I 'can't go on after this fashion,' says she, and then something about her quality. You know, Mr Lovemore, [Smiling.] she is a woman of high quality. Love. Yes, and a very fine woman. Sir Bash. No, no, no; not much of thatand yet [Looks at him and smiles.] Do you think her a fine woman? Love. Undoubtedly; where do you see any body that outshines her? Sir Bash. Why to be surere-[Smiling.] one does not often see her eclipsed. I think she is what you may call a fine woman. She keeps good company. Love. The very best. Sir Bash. Yes, yes; your tiptop, none else.— And yet to encourage her too far were dangeToo complying a husband makes but a sorry figure in the eyes of the world. rous. Their Love. The world will talk, sir Bashful. Sir Bash. Too fast, Mr Lovemore. tongues will run on, and one does not like to give them a subject. I answered her stoutly: Madam, says I, a fig for your quality: I am master Con-in my own house, and who do you think Love. Don't I know that you have made advances? Sir Bril. Advances! I pity my lady stant, and [Winks at LOVEMORE.] putting myself in a pas sion, you know-Who do you think is to pay for your cats, and your dogs, and your monkeys, and your squirrels, and your gaming debts? Love. How could you? That was sharply said. Sir Bash. Yes; I gave it her. But, for all that, I am main good-natured at the bottom. Love. You was not in earnest, then? Sir Bash. No, no; that's the point: a man must keep up his own dignity. I'll tell you what I did. say. Love. Well;-you did what's proper, I dare Sir Bash. I hope you'll think so. Don't laugh at me.- -Come, I will tell you. I went to her mercer slily, and paid him the money. Love. Did you! [Smiling. Sir Bash. [Looking alarmed.] Was not it right? Love. It was elegant. uxorious. Love. So it would. [Aside.] I must encourage that notion. While you live, guard against being too uxurious. Though our wives deserve our fondness the world will laugh at us; and hark ye, if our wives don't deserve it, they'll laugh at us the more. Sir Bash. I know it. And so, says I, Mr Lutestring, there's your money, but tell no body that I paid it slily. Love. Why, that's doing a genteel thing by stratagem. Admirably contrived! Sir Bash. It does not signify. A foolish affair; I won't trouble you. Love. Nay, that's unkind. It will be no trouble. Sir Bash. Well, well, I-I-Do you think Muslin did not overhear us? Love. Not a syllable. Come, we are safe. Sir Bash. I don't know but-let me ask you a question first. Have you any regard for your lady? Love. The highest value for her. But then, you know, appearances Sir Bash. Right!-I repose it with you. You must know, Mr Lovemore, as I told you, I am at the bottom very good natured, and though it may be thought— -we are interrupted again. Enter SIR BRILLIANT. Sir Bril. Lovemore, I have paid my visit. good as your word, sir Brilliant. Sir Bril. Perhaps you have business? Sir Bash. No, no business-[Turns to Love.] there's no proceeding now- I was going, sir Brilliant. Mr Lovemore, I wish you a good day. Love. Po! Prithee, you shan't leave me yet. Sir Bash. I must; I can't stay. [dside to Love.] Another time. Suppose you call at my house at one o'clock ? Love. With all my heart. Sir Bash. Do so; nobody shall interrupt us. Mr Lovemore, I take my leave. Sir Brilliant, I kiss your hand. You won't forget, Mr Love more? Love. Oh! no; depend upon me. Sir Bash. A good morning. He is the only Sir Bash. I think it was. But I have a deep-friend I have. er secret for you. Love. Have you? Sir Bash. I have. May I trust you? Love. Now, there you hurt me. I feel that, sir Bashful. Sir Bash. I beg your pardon. I know you are my friend. I have great confidence in you. You must know-look ye, Mr Lovemore-you must know [Exit SIR BASH. Love. Ha, ha! you broke in, in the most critical moment! He was just going to be delivered of his secret. Sir Bril. I beg your pardon. How could you let me? Love. Nay, no matter. I shall worm it out of him. Enter MUSLIN. Mus. My lady, sir, is quite impatient. Love. Po! for ever teasing! I'll wait upon her presently. [Exit Mus. Sir Bril. I'll step and chat with her while you dress. May I take the liberty? Love. You know you may: no ceremony. How could you ask me such a question ?—A propos, sir Brilliant, I want a word with you. Step with me into the study for a moment. Sir Bril. I attend you. Love. Poor sir Bashful!-ha, ha!—a ridiculous, unaccountable- -What does he mean? [Exeunt. 4 X Well, Muslin, have you seen his prime minister? Mus. Yes, ma'am, I have seen Mr William. He says his master is going out, according to the old trade, and he does not expect to see him again till to-morrow morning. Mr Lovemore is now in the study. Sir Brilliant Fashion is with him: I heard them, as I passed by the door, laughing as loud as two actors in a comedy. Mrs Love. About some precious mischief, I'll be sworn, and all at my cost. Heigho! Mus. Dear Ma'am, why chagrin yourself about a vile man, that is not worth-no, as I hope for mercy, not worth a single sigh! Mrs Love. What can I do, Muslin? Mus. Do, ma'am!-If I was as you, I'd do for him. If I could not cure my grief, I'd find some comfort; that's what I would. me. Mrs Love. Comfort? alas! there is none for Mus. And whose fault, then? Would any body but you-It provokes me to think of it-Would any but you young, handsome, with wit, graces, talents-would any body, with so many accomplishments, sit at home here, as melancholy as a poor servant out of place?-And all for what? For a husband! And such a husband! What do you think the world will say of you, ma'am? Mrs Love. I care not what they say; I am tired of the world, and the world may be tired of me, if it will. My troubles are to myself only, and I must endeavour to bear them. Who knows what patience may do? If Mr Lovemore has any feeling left, my conduct and his own heart may one day incline him to do me justice. death of me, if I have not a box for the new play. Lord bless you, ma'am, they rantipole it about this town, with as unconcerned looks, and as florid outsides, as if they were treated at home like so many goddesses: though every body knows possession has ungoddessed them all long ago, and their husbands care no more for them, no, by jingo, no more than they care for their husbands! Mrs Love. At what a rate you run on! Mus. It is enough to make a body run on. If every body thought like you, maʼam— Mrs Love. If every body loved like me! Mus. A brass thimble for love, if it is not returned by love. What the deuce is here to do? Love for love is something: but to love alone, where's the good of that? Shall I go and fix my heart upon a man, who shall despise me for that very reason? And ay, says he, Poor fool! I she adores me. The woman is well enough, only she has one inconvenient circumstance about her; I am married to her, and marriage is the devil!' Mrs Love. Will you have done? see Mus. I have not half done, ma'am. And when the vile man goes a rogueing, he smiles impudently in your face, and I am going to the cho'colate-house, my dear; amuse yourself in the mean time, my love.' Fy upon them! I know them all. Give me a husband that will enlarge the circle of my innocent pleasures: but a husband now-a-days is no such thing. A husband now is nothing but a scare-crow, to shew you the fruit, but touch it if you dare. The devil's in them! the Lord forgive me for swearing! A husband is a mere bugbear, a snap-dragon, a monster; that is to say, if one makes him so, then he is a monster indeed; and if one do not make him so, then he behaves like a monster; and of the two evils, by my troth But here, ma'am, here comes one who can tell you all about it. Here comes sir Brilliant: ask his advice, ma'am. Mrs Love. His advice? Ask advice of the man, who has estranged Mr Lovemore's affections from me? pink of the fashion. He dresses fashionably, lives fashionably, wins your money fashionably, loses his own fashionably, and does every thing fashionably; and then he looks so lively, and so much to say, and so never at a loss!-But here he comes. Mus. But, dear ma'am, that's waiting for dead Mus. Well, I protest and vow, I think sir Brilmen's shoes. Incline him to do you justice!liant a very pretty gentleman. He is the very What signifies expecting and expecting? Give me a bird in the hand. If all the women in London, who happen to be in your case, were to sit down and die of the spleen, what would become of the public places? They might turn Vauxhall to a hop-garden; make a brewhouse of Ranelagh, and let both the play-houses to a methodistpreacher. We should not have the racketing we have now. John, let the horses be put to—-— John, go to my lady Trumpabout, and invite her to a small party of twenty or thirty card-tables. John, ran to my lady Catgut, and let her know I'll wait upon her ladyship to the opera. John, run, as fast as ever you can, with my compliments to Mr Varney, and tell him, it will be the Enter SIR BRILLIANT. Sir Bril. Mrs Lovemore, my dear madam, always in a vis-a-vis party with your suivante ?— Afford me your pardon, if I say this does a little wear the appearance of being out of humour with the world. Mrs Love. Far from it, sir Brilliant. W were engaged in your panegyric. |