ACT THE THIRD
SCENE I
Lady Bountiful's House
Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda
Mrs. Sul. Ha! ha! ha! my dear sister, let me embrace thee: now we are friends indeed; for I shall have a secret of yours, as a pledge for mine.
Dor. But do you think that I am so weak as to fall in love with a fellow at first sight?
Mrs. Sul. Pshaw! now you spoil all; why should not we be as free in our friendships as the men? I warrant you, the gentleman has got to his confidant already, has avowed his passion, toasted your health, and called you ten thousand angels.
Dor. Your hand, sister, I an't well.
Mrs. Sul. So – come, child, up with it – hem a little – so – now, tell me, don't you like the gentleman that we saw at church just now?
Dor. The man's well enough.
Mrs. Sul. Well enough! Is he not a demigod, a Narcissus, a star, the man i'the moon?
Dor. O, sister, I'm extremely ill.
Mrs. Sul. Come, unbosom yourself – the man is perfectly a pretty fellow; I saw him when he first came into church.
Dor. I saw him too, sister, and with an air that shone, methought, like rays about his person.
Mrs. Sul. Well said, up with it.
Dor. No forward coquette behaviour, no airs to set himself off, no studied looks nor artful posture, – but nature did it all.
Mrs. Sul. Better and better – One touch more; come —
Dor. But, then his looks – Did you observe his eyes?
Mrs. Sul. Yes, yes, I did – his eyes; well, what of his eyes?
Dor. Sprightly, but not wandering; they seemed to view, but never gazed on any thing but me – and then his looks so humble were, and yet so noble, that they aimed to tell me, that he could with pride die at my feet, though he scorned slavery any where else.
Mrs. Sul. The physic works purely – How d'ye find yourself now, my dear?
Dor. Hem! much better, my dear. – O, here comes our Mercury. —
Enter Scrub
Well, Scrub, what news of the gentleman?
Scrub. Madam, I have brought you a whole packet of news.
Dor. Open it quickly; come.
Scrub. In the first place, I inquired who the gentleman was? They told me he was a stranger. Secondly, I asked, what the gentleman was? They answered and said, that they never saw him before. Thirdly, I inquired, what countryman he was? They replied, 'twas more than they knew. Fourthly, I demanded, whence he came? Their answer was, they could not tell. And, fifthly, I asked, whither he went? And they replied, they knew nothing of the matter. – And this is all I could learn.
Mrs. Sul. But what do the people say? can't they guess!
Scrub. Why, some think he's a spy; some guess he's a mountebank; some say one thing, some another; – but, for my own part, I believe he's a jesuit.
Dor. A jesuit! Why a jesuit?
Scrub. Because he keeps his horses always ready saddled, and his footman talks French!
Mrs. Sul. His footman!
Scrub. Ay; he and the Count's footman were jabbering French, like two intriguing ducks in a mill-pond: and, I believe, they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.
Dor. What sort of livery has the footman?
Scrub. Livery! lord, madam, I took him for a captain, he's so bedizened with lace: and then he has a silver-headed cane dangling at his knuckles – he carries his hands in his pockets, and walks just so – [Walks in a French Air.] and has fine long hair, tied up in a bag. – Lord, madam, he's clear another sort of man than I.
Mrs. Sul. That may easily be – But what shall we do now, sister?
Dor. I have it – This fellow has a world of simplicity, and some cunning, the first hides the latter by abundance – Scrub.
Scrub. Madam.
Dor. We have a great mind to know who this gentleman is, only for our satisfaction.
Scrub. Yes, madam, it would be a satisfaction, no doubt.
Dor. You must go and get acquainted with his footman, and invite him hither to drink a bottle of your ale, because you are butler to-day.
Scrub. Yes, madam, I am butler every Sunday.
Mrs. Sul. O brave sister! o'my conscience, you understand the mathematics already – 'Tis the best plot in the world; – your mother, you know, will be gone to church, my spouse will be got to the alehouse, with his scoundrels, and the house will be our own – so we drop in by accident, and ask the fellow some questions ourselves. In the country, you know, any stranger is company, and we are glad to take up with the butler in a country dance, and happy if he'll do us the favour.
Scrub. Oh, madam! you wrong me: I never refused your ladyship the favour in my life.
Enter Gipsey
Gip. Ladies, dinner's upon table.
Dor. Scrub, we'll excuse your waiting – Go where we ordered you.
Scrub. I shall. [Exeunt.
SCENE II
The Inn
Enter Aimwell and Archer
Arch. Well, Tom, I find you are a marksman.
Aim. A marksman! who so blind could be as not discern a swan among the ravens?
Arch. Well, but harkye, Aimwell —
Aim. Aimwell! call me Oroondates, Cesario, Amadis, all that romance can in a lover paint, and then I'll answer. O, Archer, I read her thousands in her looks! she looked like Ceres in her harvest; corn, wine, and oil, milk and honey; gardens, groves, and purling streams, played on her plenteous face.
Arch. Her face! – her pocket, you mean. The corn, wine, and oil, lies there. In short, she has twenty thousand pounds, that's the English on't.
Aim. Her eyes —
Arch. Are demicannons, to be sure; so I won't stand their battery. [Going.
Aim. Pray excuse me; my passion must have vent.
Arch. Passion! what a plague, d'ye think these romantic airs will do your business? Were my temper as extravagant as yours, my adventures have something more romantic by half.
Aim. Your adventures!
Arch. Yes —
The nymph, that with her twice ten hundred pounds,
With brazen engine hot, and coif clear starch'd,
Can fire the guest in warming of the bed —
There's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and the subject, but an innkeeper's daughter. I can play with a girl, as an angler does with his fish; he keeps it at the end of his line, runs it up the stream, and down the stream, till at last, he brings it to hand, tickles the trout, and so whips it into his basket.
Enter Boniface
Bon. Mr. Martin, as the saying is – yonder's an honest fellow below, my Lady Bountiful's butler, who begs the honour, that you would go home with him, and see his cellar.
Arch. Do my baissemains to the gentleman, and tell him, I will do myself the honour to wait on him immediately, as the saying is.
Bon. I shall do your worship's commands, as the saying is.
[Exit, bowing obsequiously.
Aim. What do I hear? soft Orpheus play, and fair Toftida sing.
Arch. Pshaw! damn your raptures; I tell you, here's a pump going to be put into the vessel, and the ship will get into harbour, my life on't. You say, there's another lady very handsome there?
Aim. Yes, faith.
Arch. I'm in love with her already.
Aim. Can't you give me a bill upon Cherry in the mean time.
Arch. No, no, friend; all her corn, wine, and oil, is ingrossed to my market – And, once more, I warn you, to keep your anchorage clear of mine; for if you fall foul on me, by this light, you shall go to the bottom. – What! make prize of my little frigate, while I am upon the cruize for you! [Exit.
Enter Boniface
Aim. Well, well, I won't – Landlord, have you any tolerable company in the house? I don't care for dining alone.
Bon. Yes, sir, there's a captain below, as the saying is, that arrived about an hour ago.
Aim. Gentlemen of his coat are welcome every where; – will you make him a compliment from me, and tell him, I should be glad of his company.
Bon. Who shall I tell him, sir, would —
Aim. Ha! that stroke was well thrown in – I'm only a traveller, like himself, and would be glad of his company, that's all.
Bon. I obey your commands, as the saying is. [Exit.
Enter Archer
Arch. 'Sdeath! I had forgot – what title will you give yourself?
Aim. My brother's, to be sure: he would never give me any thing else, so I'll make bold with his honour this bout. You know the rest of your cue.
Arch. Ay, ay. [Exit.
Enter Gibbet
Gib. Sir, I'm yours.
Aim. 'Tis more than I deserve, sir; for I don't know you.
Gib. I don't wonder at that, sir, for you never saw me before – I hope. [Aside.
Aim. And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of seeing you now?
Gib. Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman – but my landlord —
Aim. O, sir, I ask your pardon; you are the captain he told me of?
Gib. At your service, sir.
Aim. What regiment, may I be so bold?
Gib. A marching regiment, sir; an old corps.
Aim. Very old, if your coat be regimental. [Aside.] You have served abroad, sir?
Gib. Yes, sir, in the plantations; 'twas my lot to be sent into the worst service; I would have quitted it indeed, but a man of honour, you know – Besides, 'twas for the good of my country, that I should be abroad – Any thing for the good of one's country. – I'm a Roman for that.
Aim. One of the first, I'll lay my life. [Aside.] You found the West Indies very hot, sir?
Gib. Ay, sir, too hot for me.
Aim. Pray sir, han't I seen your face at Will's coffeehouse?
Gib. Yes, sir, and at White's too.
Aim. And where is your company now, captain?
Gib. They a'nt come yet.
Aim. Why, d'ye expect them here?
Gib. They'll be here to-night, sir.
Aim. Which way do they march?
Gib. Across the country. – The devil's in't, if I han't said enough to encourage him to declare – but I'm afraid he's not right – I must tack about. [Aside.
Aim. Is your company to quarter at Litchfield?
Gib. In this house, sir.
Aim. What! all?
Gib. My company's but thin – Ha! ha! ha! we are but three; – ha! ha! ha!
Aim. You are merry, sir.
Gib. Ay, sir, you must excuse me, sir, I understand the world, especially the art of travelling: I don't care, sir, for answering questions directly upon the road – for I generally ride with a charge about me.
Aim. Three or four, I believe. [Aside.
Gib. I am credibly informed, that there are highwaymen upon this quarter – not, sir, that I could suspect a gentleman of your figure – But, truly, sir, I have got such a way of evasion upon the road, that I don't care for speaking truth to any man.
Aim. Your caution may be necessary – Then, I presume, you are no captain.
Gib. Not I, sir; captain is a good travelling name, and so I take it. It stops a great many foolish inquiries, that are generally made about gentlemen that travel; – it gives a man an air of something, and makes the drawers obedient. – And, thus far, I am a captain, and no farther.
Aim. And, pray, sir, what is your true profession?
Gib. O, sir, you must excuse me – upon my word, sir, I don't think it safe to tell ye.
Aim. Ha! ha! ha! upon my word, I commend you. —
Enter Boniface
Well, Mr. Boniface, what's the news?
Bon. There's another gentleman below, as the saying is, that, hearing you were but two, would be glad to make the third man, if you'd give him leave.
Aim. What is he?
Bon. A clergyman, as the saying is.
Aim. A clergyman! – is he really a clergyman? or is it only his travelling name, as my friend the captain has it.
Bon. O, sir, he's a priest, and chaplain to the French officers in town.
Aim. Is he a Frenchman?
Bon. Yes, sir; born at Brussels.
Gib. A Frenchman, and a priest! I won't be seen in his company, sir; – I have a value for my reputation, sir.
Aim. Nay, but, captain, since we are by ourselves – Can he speak English, landlord?
Bon. Very well, sir; you may know him, as the saying is, to be a foreigner by his accent, and that's all.
Aim. Then he has been in England before?
Bon. Never, sir, but he's a master of languages, as the saying is – he talks Latin; it does me good to hear him talk Latin.
Aim. Then you understand Latin, Mr. Boniface?
Bon. Not I, sir, as the saying is; – but he talks it so very fast, that I'm sure it must be good.
Aim. Pray desire him to walk up.
Bon. Here he is, as the saying is.
Enter Foigard
Foig. Save you, gentlemens bote.
Aim. A Frenchman! – Sir, your most humble servant.
Foig. Och, dear joy, I am your most faithful shervant; and yours alsho.
Gib. Doctor, you talk very good English, but you have a mighty twang of the foreigner.
Foig. My English is very well for the vords; but ve foreigners, you know, cannot bring our tongues about the pronunciation so soon.
Aim. A foreigner! A downright teague, by this light. [Aside.] Were you born in France, doctor?
Foig. I was educated in France, but I was borned at Brussels; I am a subject of the King of Spain, joy.
Gib. What King of Spain, sir? speak.
Foig. Upon my shoul, joy, I cannot tell you as yet.
Aim. Nay, captain, that was too hard upon the doctor; he's a stranger.
Foig. O, let him alone, dear joy, I am of a nation that is not easily put out of countenance.
Aim. Come, gentlemen, I'll end the dispute – Here, landlord, is dinner ready?
Bon. Upon the table, as the saying is.
Aim. Gentlemen – pray – that door —
Foig. No, no, fait, the captain must lead.
Aim. No, doctor, the church is our guide.
Gib. Ay, ay, so it is.
[Exeunt, Foigard foremost.
SCENE III
A Gallery in Lady Bountiful's House
Enter Archer and Scrub, singing, and hugging oneanother; Scrub with a Tankard in his Hand– Gipsey listening at a Distance
Scrub. Tal, all, dal– Come, my dear boy, let us have that song once more.
Arch. No, no, we shall disturb the family – But will you be sure to keep the secret?
Scrub. Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gentleman.
Arch. 'Tis enough – You must know then, that my master is the Lord Viscount Aimwell: he fought a duel t'other day in London, wounded his man so dangerously, that he thinks fit to withdraw, till he hears whether the gentleman's wounds be mortal or not. He never was in this part of England before, so he chose to retire to this place, that's all.
Gip. And, that's enough for me. [Exit.
Scrub. And where were you, when your master fought?
Arch. We never know of our master's quarrels.
Scrub. No! if our masters in the country here receive a challenge, the first thing they do, is to tell their wives; the wife tells the servants, the servants alarm the tenants, and in half an hour, you shall have the whole country up in arms.
Arch. To hinder two men from doing what they have no mind for. – But, if you should chance to talk now of this business —
Scrub. Talk! Ah, sir, had I not learned the knack of holding my tongue, I had never lived so long in a great family.
Arch. Ay, ay, to be sure, there are secrets in all families.
Scrub. Secrets, O lud! – But I'll say no more – Come, sit down, we'll make an end of our tankard: – Here —
Arch. With all my heart; who knows but you and I may come to be better acquainted, eh? – Here's your ladies' health – You have three, I think, and to be sure there must be secrets among them?
Scrub. Secrets! ah, friend, friend! I wish I had a friend.
Arch. Am not I your friend? Come, you and I will be sworn brothers.
Scrub. Shall we?
Arch. From this minute – Give me a kiss – and now, brother Scrub —
Scrub. And now, brother Martin, I will tell you a secret, that will make your hair stand on end. – You must know, that I am consumedly in love.
Arch. That's a terrible secret, that's the truth on't.
Scrub. That jade, Gipsey, that was with us just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of her.
Arch. Ha! ha! ha! – are you in love with her person or her virtue, brother Scrub?
Scrub. I should like virtue best, because it is more durable than beauty; for virtue holds good with some women long and many a day after they have lost it.
Arch. In the country, I grant ye, where no woman's virtue is lost, till a bastard be found.
Scrub. Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, I should have her all to myself; but I dare not put it upon that lay, for fear of being sent for a soldier. – Pray, brother, how do you gentlemen in London like that same pressing act?
Arch. Very ill, brother Scrub; – 'Tis the worst that ever was made for us; – formerly I remembered the good days when we could dun our masters for our wages, and if they refused to pay us, we could have a warrant to carry them before a justice: but now if we talk of eating, they have a warrant for us and carry us before three justices.
Scrub. And to be sure we go, if we talk of eating; for the justices won't give their own servants a bad example. Now this is my misfortune – I dare not speak in the house, while that jade, Gipsey, dings about like a fury – once I had the better end of the staff.
Arch. And how comes the change now?
Scrub. Why, the mother of all this mischief is a priest.
Arch. A priest!
Scrub. Ay, a damn'd son of a whore of Babylon, that came over hither to say grace to the French officers, and eat up our provisions – There's not a day goes over his head without a dinner or supper in this house.
Arch. How came he so familiar in the family?
Scrub. Because he speaks English as if he had lived here all his life, and tells lies as if he had been a traveller from his cradle.
Arch. And this priest, I'm afraid, has converted the affection of your Gipsey.
Scrub. Converted! ay, and perverted, my dear friend – for, I'm afraid he has made her a whore, and a papist – but this is not all; there's the French count and Mrs. Sullen, they're in the confederacy, and for some private ends of their own too, to be sure.
Arch. A very hopeful family yours, brother Scrub; I suppose the maiden lady has her lover too?
Scrub. Not that I know – She's the best of them, that's the truth on't: but they take care to prevent my curiosity, by giving me so much business, that I'm a perfect slave – What d'ye think is my place in this family?
Arch. Butler, I suppose.
Scrub. Ah, lord help you – I'll tell you – Of a Monday I drive the coach, of a Tuesday I drive the plough, on Wednesday I follow the hounds, a Thursday I dun the tenants, on Friday I go to market, on Saturday I draw warrants, and a Sunday I draw beer.
Arch. Ha! ha! ha! if variety be a pleasure in life, you have enough on't, my dear brother – but what ladies are those?
Scrub. Ours, ours; that upon the right hand is Mrs. Sullen, and the other Mrs. Dorinda – don't mind them, sit still, man —
Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda
Mrs. Sul. I have heard my brother talk of Lord Aimwell, but they say that his brother is the finer gentleman.
Dor. That's impossible, sister.
Mrs. Sul. He's vastly rich, and very close, they say.
Dor. No matter for that; if I can creep into his heart, I'll open his breast, I warrant him: I have heard say, that people may be guessed at by the behaviour of their servants; I could wish we might talk to that fellow.
Mrs. Sul. So do I; for I think he's a very pretty fellow; come this way, I'll throw out a lure for him presently.
[They walk towards the opposite Side of theStage; Mrs. Sullen drops her Fan, Archer runs, takes it up, and gives it to her.
Arch. Corn, wine, and oil, indeed – but, I think the wife has the greatest plenty of flesh and blood; she should be my choice – Ay, ay, say you so – madam – your ladyship's fan.
Mrs. Sul. O, sir, I thank you – What a handsome bow the fellow made!
Dor. Bow! why I have known several footmen come down from London, set up here for dancing masters, and carry off the best fortunes in the country.
Arch. [Aside.] That project, for aught I know, had been better than ours – Brother Scrub, why don't you introduce me?
Scrub. Ladies, this is the strange gentleman's servant, that you saw at church to-day: I understood he came from London, and so I invited him to the cellar, that he might show me the newest flourish in whetting my knives.
Dor. And I hope you have made much of him.
Arch. Oh, yes, madam, but the strength of your ladyship's liquor is a little too potent for the constitution of your humble servant.
Mrs. Sul. What, then you don't usually drink ale?
Arch. No, madam, my constant drink is tea, or a little wine and water; 'tis prescribed me by the physician, for a remedy against the spleen —
Scrub. O la! O la! – A footman have the spleen!
Mrs. Sul. I thought that distemper had been only proper to people of quality.
Arch. Madam, like all other fashions, it wears out, and so descends to their servants; though in a great many of us, I believe it proceeds from some melancholy particles in the blood, occasioned by the stagnation of wages.
Dor. How affectedly the fellow talks – How long, pray, have you served your present master?
Arch. Not long; my life has been mostly spent in the service of the ladies.
Mrs. Sul. And pray, which service do you like best?
Arch. Madam, the ladies pay best; the honour of serving them is sufficient wages; there is a charm in their looks, that delivers a pleasure with their commands, and gives our duty the wings of inclination.
Mrs. Sul. That flight was above the pitch of a livery; and, sir, would not you be satisfied to serve a lady again?
Arch. As groom of the chambers, madam, but not as a footman.
Mrs. Sul. I suppose you served as footman before?
Arch. For that reason I would not serve in that post again; for my memory is too weak for the load of messages that the ladies lay upon their servants in London: my Lady Howd'ye, the last mistress I served, called me up one morning, and told me, Martin, go to my Lady Allnight, with my humble service; tell her, I was to wait on her ladyship yesterday, and left word with Mrs. Rebecca, that the preliminaries of the affair she knows of, are stopped till we know the concurrence of the person that I know of; for which there are circumstances wanting which we shall accommodate at the old place; but that in the mean time there is a person about her ladyship, that, from several hints and surmises, was accessary at a certain time to the disappointments that naturally attend things, that to her knowledge are of more importance —
Arch. Why, I han't half done – The whole howd'ye was about half an hour long; so I happened to misplace two syllables, and, was turned off, and rendered incapable —
Dor. The pleasantest fellow, sister, I ever saw. – But, friend, if your master be married, – I presume you still serve a lady.