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Arch. No, madam, I take care never to come into a married family; the commands of the master and mistress are always so contrary, that 'tis impossible to please both.

Dor. There's a main point gained – My lord is not married, I find. [Aside.

Mrs. Sul. But I wonder, friend, that in so many good services, you had not a better provision made for you.

Arch. I don't know how, madam – I am very well as I am —

Mrs. Sul. Something for a pair of gloves.

[Offering him Money.

Arch. I humbly beg leave to be excused; my master, madam, pays me, nor dare I take money from any other hand, without injuring his honour, and disobeying his commands.

Scrub. Brother Martin, brother Martin.

Arch. What do you say, brother Scrub?

Scrub. Take the money, and give it to me.

[Exeunt Archer and Scrub.

Dor. This is surprising: did you ever see so pretty a well-bred fellow?

Mrs. Sul. The devil take him, for wearing that livery.

Dor. I fancy, sister, he may be some gentleman, a friend of my lord's, that his lordship has pitched upon for his courage, fidelity, and discretion, to bear him company in this dress, and who, ten to one, was his second.

Mrs. Sul. It is so, it must be so, and it shall be so – for I like him.

Dor. What! better than the count?

Mrs. Sul. The count happened to be the most agreeable man upon the place; and so I chose him to serve me in my design upon my husband – But I should like this fellow better in a design upon myself.

Dor. But now, sister, for an interview with this lord and this gentleman; how shall we bring that about?

Mrs. Sul. Patience! you country ladies give no quarter. – Lookye, Dorinda, if my Lord Aimwell loves you or deserves you, he'll find a way to see you, and there we must leave it – My business comes now upon the tapis, – Have you prepared your brother?

Dor. Yes, yes.

Mrs. Sul. And how did he relish it?

Dor. He said little, mumbled something to himself, and promised to be guided by me: but here he comes. —

Enter Sullen

Sul. What singing was that I heard just now?

Mrs. Sul. The singing in your head, my dear, you complained of it all day.

Sul. You're impertinent.

Mrs. Sul. I was ever so, since I became one flesh with you.

Sul. One flesh! rather two carcases joined unnaturally together.

Mrs. Sul. Or rather a living soul coupled to a dead body.

Dor. So, this is fine encouragement for me!

Sul. Yes, my wife shows you what you must do!

Mrs. Sul. And my husband shows you what you must suffer.

Sul. 'Sdeath, why can't you be silent?

Mrs. Sul. 'Sdeath, why can't you talk?

Sul. Do you talk to any purpose?

Mrs. Sul. Do you think to any purpose?

Sul. Sister, harkye – [Whispers.] I shan't be home till it be late. [Exit.

Mrs. Sul. What did he whisper to ye?

Dor. That he would go round the back way, come into the closet, and listen, as I directed him. – But let me beg once more, dear sister, to drop this project; for, as I told you before, instead of awaking him to kindness, you may provoke him to rage; and then who knows how far his brutality may carry him?

Mrs. Sul. I'm provided to receive him, I warrant you; away! [Exeunt.

ACT THE FOURTH

SCENE I

A Gallery in Lady Bountiful's House

Enter Lady Bountiful and Mrs. Sullen, Dorinda

meeting them

Dor. News, dear sister, news, news!

Enter Archer, running

Arch. Where, where is my Lady Bountiful? – Pray which is the old lady of you three?

Lady B. I am.

Arch. O madam, the fame of your ladyship's charity, goodness, benevolence, skill, and ability, have drawn me hither, to implore your ladyship's help in behalf of my unfortunate master, who is at this moment breathing his last.

Lady B. Your master! where is he?

Arch. At your gate, madam: drawn by the appearance of your handsome house, to view it nearer, and walking up the avenue, within five paces of the courtyard, he was taken ill of a sudden, with a sort of I know not what: but down he fell, and there he lies.

Lady B. Here, Scrub, Gipsey.

Enter Scrub and Gipsey

All run, get my easy-chair down stairs, put the gentleman in it, and bring him in quickly, quickly.

Arch. Heaven will reward your ladyship for this charitable act.

Lady B. Is your master used to these fits?

Arch. O yes, madam, frequently – I have known him have five or six of a night.

Lady B. What's his name?

Arch. Lord, madam, he's dying; a minute's care or neglect may save or destroy his life.

Lady B. Ah, poor gentleman! come, friend, show me the way; I'll see him brought in myself.

[Exit with Archer.

Dor. Oh, sister, my heart flutters about strangely; I can hardly forbear running to his assistance.

Mrs. Sul. And I'll lay my life he deserves your assistance more than he wants it: did not I tell you that my lord would find a way to come at you? 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. O, sister, I'm but a young gunner, I shall be afraid to shoot, for fear the piece should recoil, and hurt myself.

Mrs. Sul. Never fear, you shall see me shoot before you, if you 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 Scrub; Lady Bountiful, Gipsey. Aimwell counterfeiting a Swoon

Lady B. Here, here, let's see – the hartshorn drops – Gipsey, 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 of ease.

Arch. 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.

Mrs. Sul. I find, friend, you are very learned in these sort of fits.

Arch. 'Tis no wonder, madam, for I'm often troubled 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 him very long.

Arch. Longer than usual, madam. —

Lady B. Where did his illness take him first, pray!

Arch. To-day, at church, madam.

Lady B. In what manner was he taken?

Arch. Very strangely, my lady. He was of a sudden touched with something in his eyes, which at the first he only felt, but could not tell whether 'twas pain or pleasure.

Lady B. Wind, nothing but wind. – Your master should never go without a bottle to smell to – Oh! – 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 awake in amaze.

Dor. How do you, sir?

Aim. Where am I? [Rising.

 
Sure I have passed the gulf of silent death,
And now am landed on the Elysian shore.
Behold the goddess 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 —

 
How could thy Orpheus keep his word,
And not look back upon thee;
No treasure but thyself could sure have brib'd him
To look one minute off thee.
 

Lady B. Delirious, poor gentleman.

Arch. Very delirious, madam, very delirious.

Aim. Martin's voice, I think.

Arch. Yes, my lord – How does your lordship?

Lady B. Lord! did you mind that, girls?

Aim. Where am I?

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 shall 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: [Aimwell 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 venture immediately into the air – You'll find some tolerable pictures – Dorinda, show the gentleman the way. I must go to the poor woman below. [Exit.

Dor. This way, 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. Sullen and Archer – Scrub sits down.

Enter Foigard

Foig. 'Save you, master Scrub.

Scrub. Sir, I won't be saved your way – 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, sir; she's – dead two months ago, sir.

Enter Gipsey

Gip. How now, impudence! How dare you talk so 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 you 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 Side 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 stamps, and he sings: in conclusion, joy, he's afflicted, à 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 me, joy; I am your priest, gra; 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?

Foig. Vel, and is dere any shin in going to bed, joy?

Gip. Ah, but if the parties should meet, doctor?

Foig. Vel den – the parties must be responsible. – Do you begone after putting the count in the closhet; and leave the shins wid themselves – I will come with the count to instruct you in your chamber.

Gip. Well, doctor, your religion is so pure, that I'm resolved to die a martyr to't – Here's the key of the garden door; come in the back way, when 'tis late – I'll be ready to receive you; but don't so much as whisper, only take hold of my hand; I'll lead you, and do you lead the count, and follow me. [Exeunt.

Enter Scrub

Scrub. What witchcraft now have these two imps of the devil been a-hatching here? – There's twenty Louis d'ors! I heard that, and saw the purse: but I must give room to my betters. [Exit.

Enter Aimwell, leading Dorinda, and making lovein dumb Show; Mrs. Sullen, and Archer

Mrs. Sul. Pray, sir, [To Archer.] how d'ye like that piece?

Arch. O, 'tis Leda – You find, madam, how Jupiter came disguised to make love —

Mrs. Sul. Pray, sir, what head is that in the corner, there?

Arch. O, madam, 'tis poor Ovid in his exile.

Mrs. Sul. What was he banished for?

Arch. His ambitious love, madam. [Bowing.] His misfortune touches me.

Mrs. Sul. Was he successful in his amours?

Arch. There he has left us in the dark – He was too much a gentleman to tell.

Mrs. Sul. If he were secret, I pity him.

Arch. And if he were successful I envy him.

Mrs. Sul. How d'ye like that Venus over the chimney?

Arch. Venus! I protest, madam, I took it for your picture: but now I look again, 'tis not handsome enough.

Mrs. Sul. Oh, what a charm is flattery! if you would see my picture, there it is, over that cabinet – How d'ye like it?

Arch. I must admire any thing, madam, that has the least resemblance of you – But methinks, madam, – [He looks at the Picture and Mrs. Sullen Three or Four Times, by Turns.] Pray, madam, who drew it?

Mrs. Sul. A famous hand, sir.

[Exeunt Aimwell and Dorinda.

Arch. A famous hand, madam! Your eyes, indeed, are featured there; but where's the sparkling moisture, shining fluid, in which they swim? The picture, indeed, has your dimples, but where's the swarm of killing Cupids, that should ambush there? The lips too are figured out; but where's the carnation dew, the pouting ripeness that tempts the taste in the original?

Mrs. Sul. Had it been my lot to have matched with such a man! [Aside.

Arch. Your breasts too; presumptuous man! what! paint heaven! Apropos, madam, in the very next picture is Salmoneus, that was struck dead with lightning, for offering to imitate Jove's thunder; I hope you served the painter so, madam.

Mrs. Sul. Had my eyes the power of thunder, they should employ their lightning better.

Arch. There's the finest bed in that room, madam; I suppose 'tis your ladyship's bedchamber?

Mrs. Sul. And what then, sir?

Arch. I think the quilt is the richest that ever I saw – I can't at this distance, madam, distinguish the figures of the embroidery: will you give me leave, madam?

Mrs. Sul. The devil take his impudence – Sure, if I gave him an opportunity, he durst not offer it – I have a great mind to try. – [Going. – Returns.] 'Sdeath, what am I doing? – And alone too; – Sister, sister! [Exit.

Arch. I'll follow her close —

 
For where a Frenchman durst attempt to storm,
A Briton, sure may well the work perform. [Going.
 

Enter Scrub

Scrub. Martin, brother Martin!

Arch. O brother Scrub, I beg your pardon, I was not a-going: here's a guinea my master ordered you.

Scrub. A guinea! hi, hi, hi, a guinea! eh – by this light it is a guinea; but I suppose you expect one and twenty shillings in change.

Arch. Not at all; I have another for Gipsey.

Scrub. A guinea for her! Fire and faggot for the witch. – Sir, give me that guinea, and I'll discover a plot.

Arch. A plot?

Scrub. Ay, sir, a plot, a horrid plot – First, it must be a plot, because there's a woman in't: secondly, it must be a plot, because there's a priest in't: thirdly, it must be a plot, because there's French gold in't: and fourthly, it must be a plot, because I don't know what to make on't.

Arch. Nor any body else, I'm afraid, brother Scrub.

Scrub. Truly I'm afraid so too; for where there's a priest and a woman, there's always a mystery and a riddle – This, I know, that here has been the doctor with a temptation in one hand, and an absolution in the other, and Gipsey has sold herself to the devil; I saw the price paid down, my eyes shall take their oath on't.

Arch. And is all this bustle about Gipsey?

Scrub. That's not all; I could hear but a word here and there; but I remember they mentioned a count, a closet, a back door, and a key.

Arch. The count! did you hear nothing of Mrs. Sullen?

Scrub. I did hear some word that sounded that way: but whether it was Sullen or Dorinda I could not distinguish.

Arch. You have told this matter to nobody, brother?

Scrub. Told! no, sir, I thank you for that; I'm resolved never to speak one word, pro nor con, till we have a peace.

Arch. You are i'the right, brother Scrub; here's a treaty a-foot between the count and the lady. – The priest and the chambermaid are plenipotentiaries – It shall go hard, but I'll find a way to be included in the treaty. Where's the doctor now?

Scrub. He and Gipsey are this moment devouring my lady's marmalade in the closet.

Aim. [From without.] Martin, Martin!

Arch. I come, sir, I come.

Scrub. But you forget the other guinea, brother Martin.

Arch. Here, I give it with all my heart.

[Exit Archer.

Scrub. And I take it with all my soul. I'cod, I'll spoil your plotting, Mrs. Gipsey; and if you should set the captain upon me, these two guineas will buy me off.

[Exit Scrub.

Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda, meeting

Mrs. Sul. Well, sister.

Dor. And well, sister.

Mrs. Sul. What's become of my lord?

Dor. What's become of his servant?

Mrs. Sul. Servant! he's a prettier fellow and a finer gentleman by fifty degrees than his master.

Dor. O' my conscience, I fancy you could beg that fellow at the gallows' foot.

Mrs. Sul. O' my conscience, I could, provided I could put a friend of yours in his room.

Dor. You desired me, sister, to leave you, when you transgressed the bounds of honour.

Mrs. Sul. Thou dear censorious country girl – What dost mean? You can't think of the man without the bedfellow, I find.

Dor. I don't find any thing unnatural in that thought.

Mrs. Sul. How a little love and conversation improve a woman! Why, child, you begin to live – you never spoke before.

Dor. Because I was never spoke to before: my lord has told me, that I have more wit and beauty than any of my sex; and truly I begin to think the man is sincere.

Mrs. Sul. You are in the right, Dorinda; pride is the life of a woman, and flattery is our daily bread – But I'll lay you a guinea that I had finer things said to me than you had.

Dor. Done – What did your fellow say to ye?

Mrs. Sul. My fellow took the picture of Venus for mine.

Dor. But my lover took me for Venus herself.

Mrs. Sul. Common cant! had my spark called me a Venus directly, I should have believed him a footman in good earnest.

Dor. But my lover was upon his knees to me.

Mrs. Sul. And mine was upon his tiptoes to me.

Dor. Mine vowed to die for me.

Mrs. Sul. Mine swore to die with me.

Dor. Mine kissed my hand ten thousand times.

Mrs. Sul. Mine has all that pleasure to come.

Dor. Mine spoke the softest moving things.

Mrs. Sul. Ay, ay, mine had his moving things too.

Dor. Mine offered marriage.

Mrs. Sul. O lard! d'ye call that a moving thing?

Dor. The sharpest arrow in his quiver, my dear sister; Why, my twenty thousand pounds may lie brooding here this seven years, and hatch nothing at last but some illnatured clown, like yours; – Whereas, if I marry my Lord Aimwell, there will be title, place, and precedence, the park, the play, and the drawing-room, splendour, equipage, noise, and flambeaux – Hey, my Lady Aimwell's servants there – lights, lights to the stairs – My Lady Aimwell's coach, put forward – stand by; make room for her ladyship – Are not these things moving? What! melancholy of a sudden?

Mrs. Sul. Happy, happy sister! your angel has been watchful for your happiness, whilst mine has slept, regardless of his charge – Long smiling years of circling joys for you, but not one hour for me! [Weeps.

Dor. Come, my dear, we'll talk of something else.

Mrs. Sul. O, Dorinda, I own myself a woman, full of my sex, a gentle, generous soul – easy and yielding to soft desires; a spacious heart, where love and all his train might lodge; and must the fair apartment of my breast be made a stable for a brute to lie in?

Dor. Meaning your husband, I suppose.

Mrs. Sul. Husband! – Even husband is too soft a name for him. – But, come, I expect my brother here to-night or to-morrow; he was abroad when my father married me: perhaps he'll find a way to make me easy.

Dor. Will you promise not to make yourself uneasy in the mean time with my lord's friend?

Mrs. Sul. You mistake me, sister – It happens with us as among the men, the greatest talkers are the greatest cowards; and there's a reason for it; those spirits evaporate in prattle, which might do more mischief if they took another course – Though, to confess the truth, I do love that fellow; – and if I met him dressed as he should be, – Lookye, sister, I have no supernatural gifts; – I can't swear I could resist the temptation – though I can safely promise to avoid it; and that's as much as the best of us can do. [Exeunt.