Oriana. Sir, the law shall.
Y. Mir. But the law can't force me to do any thing else, can it?
Oriana. Pshaw, I despise thee – Monster!
Y. Mir. Kiss and be friends, then – Don't cry, child, and you shall have your sugar plumb – Come, madam, d'ye think I could be so unreasonable as to make you fast all your life long! No, I did but jest, you shall have your liberty – here, take your contract, and give me mine.
Oriana. No, I won't.
Y. Mir. Eh! What, is the girl a fool?
Oriana. No, sir, you shall find me cunning enough to do myself justice; and since I must not depend upon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to marry me, out of spite.
Y. Mir. Then I'll beat thee out of spite, and make a most confounded husband!
Oriana. O, sir, I shall match ye! A good husband makes a good wife at any time.
Y. Mir. I'll rattle down your china about your ears.
Oriana. And I'll rattle about the city, to run you in debt for more.
Y. Mir. I'll tear the furbelow off your clothes, and when you swoon for vexation, you shan't have a penny, to buy a bottle of hartshorn.
Oriana. And you, sir, shall have hartshorn in abundance.
Y. Mir. I'll keep as many mistresses as I have coach horses.
Oriana. And I'll keep as many gallants as you have grooms.
Y. Mir. But, sweet madam, there is such a thing as a divorce!
Oriana. But, sweet sir, there is such a thing as alimony! so divorce on, and spare not.[Exit.
Y. Mir. Ay, that separate maintenance is the devil – there's their refuge! – O' my conscience, one would take cuckoldom for a meritorious action, because the women are so handsomely rewarded for it.[Exit.
Enter Duretete and Petit
Dur. And she's mighty peevish, you say?
Petit. O sir, she has a tongue as long as my leg, and talks so crabbedly, you would think she always spoke Welsh.
Dur. That's an odd language, methinks, for her philosophy.
Petit. But sometimes she will sit you half a day without speaking a word, and talk oracles all the while by the wrinkles of her forehead, and the motions of her eyebrows.
Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical ogles, 'faith! – that's my talent: I can talk best, you must know, when I say nothing.
Petit. But d'ye ever laugh, sir?
Dur. Laugh? Won't she endure laughing?
Petit. Why, she's a critic, sir, she hates a jest, for fear it should please her; and nothing keeps her in humour, but what gives her the spleen. – And then, for logic, and all that, you know —
Dur. Ay, ay, I'm prepared, I have been practising hard words and no sense, this hour, to entertain her.
Petit. Then place yourself behind this screen, that you may have a view of her behaviour before you begin.
Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget my lesson.
Petit. Here she comes, sir – I must fly.
[Exit Petit, and Duretete stands peeping behind the Curtain.
Enter Bisarre and Maid
Bis. [With a Book.] Pshaw! hang books! they sour our temper, spoil our eyes, and ruin our complexions.
[Throws away the Book.
Dur. Eh? the devil such a word there is in all Aristotle!
Bis. Come, wench, let's be free – call in the fiddle, there's nobody near us.
Dur. 'Would to the Lord there was not!
Bis. Here, friend, a minuet – [Music.] Quicker time – ha – 'would we had a man or two!
Dur. [Stealing away.] You shall have the devil sooner, my dear, dancing philosopher!
Bis. Uds my life! – Here's one!
[Runs to Duretete, and hales him back.
Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to this?
Bis. Come, sir, don't be ashamed, that's my good boy – you're very welcome, we wanted such a one – Come, strike up – [Dance.] I know you dance well, sir, you're finely shaped for't – Come, come, sir; – quick, quick! you miss the time else.
Dur. But, madam, I come to talk with you.
Bis. Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you dance, – come.
Dur. But we were talking of dialectics —
Bis. Hang dialectics! [Music.] Mind the time – quicker, sirrah! – Come – and how d'ye find yourself now, sir?
Dur. In a fine breathing sweat, Doctor.
Bis. All the better, patient, all the better; – Come, sir, sing now, sing, I know you sing well: I see you have a singing face – a heavy, dull, sonata face.
Dur. Who, I sing?
Bis. O you're modest, sir – but come, sit down closer – closer. Here, a bottle of wine! [Exit Maid, and returns with Wine.] Come, sir – sing, sir.
Dur. But, madam, I came to talk with you.
Bis. O sir, you shall drink first. – Come, fill me a bumper – here, sir, bless the king!
Dur. 'Would I were out of his dominions! – By this light, she'll make me drunk too!
Bis. O pardon me, sir, you shall do me right – fill it higher. – Now, sir, can you drink a health under your leg?
Dur. Rare philosophy that, 'faith!
Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom! – Now, how d'ye like me, sir?
Dur. O, mighty well, madam!
Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies! sometimes, splenetic and heavy, then, gay and frolicsome. – And how d'ye like the humour?
Dur. Good madam, let me sit down to answer you, for I am heartily tired.
Bis. Fie upon't! a young man, and tired! up, for shame, and walk about! – Action becomes us – a little faster, sir – What d'ye think now of my Lady La Pale, and Lady Coquet, the duke's fair daughter? Ha! Are they not brisk lasses? Then there is black Mrs. Bellair, and brown Mrs. Bellface!
Dur. They are all strangers to me, madam.
Bis. But let me tell you, sir, that brown is not always despicable – O Lard, sir, if young Mrs. Bagatell had kept herself single till this time o'day, what a beauty there had been! And then, you know, the charming Mrs. Monkeylove, the fair gem of St. Germain's!
Dur. Upon my soul, I don't!
Bis. And then, you must have heard of the English beau, Spleenamore, how unlike a gentleman —
Dur. Hey! – not a syllable on't, as I hope to be saved, madam!
Bis. No! Why, then, play me a jig; – [Music.] – Come, sir.
Dur. By this light, I cannot! 'faith, madam, I have sprained my leg!
Bis. Then sit you down, sir; – and now tell me what's your business with me? What's your errand? Quick, quick, despatch! – Odso, may be, you are some gentleman's servant, that has brought me a letter, or a haunch of venison?
Dur. 'Sdeath, madam, do I look like a carrier?
Bis. O, cry you mercy, I saw you just now, I mistook you, upon my word! you are one of the travelling gentlemen – and pray, sir, how do all our impudent friends in Italy?
Dur. Madam, I came to wait on you with a more serious intention than your entertainment has answered.
Bis. Sir, your intention of waiting on me was the greatest affront imaginable, however your expressions may turn it to a compliment: Your visit, sir, was intended as a prologue to a very scurvy play, of which, Mr. Mirabel and you so handsomely laid the plot. – "Marry! No, no, I am a man of more honour." – Where's your honour? Where's your courage now? Ads my life, sir, I have a great mind to kick you! – Go, go to your fellow-rake now, rail at my sex, and get drunk for vexation, and write a lampoon – But I must have you to know, sir, that my reputation is above the scandal of a libel, my virtue is sufficiently approved to those whose opinion is my interest: and, for the rest, let them talk what they will; for, when I please, I'll be what I please, in spite of you and all mankind; and so, my dear man of honour, if you be tired, con over this lesson, and sit there till I come to you.[Runs off.
Dur. Tum ti dum. [Sings.] Ha! ha! ha! "Ad's my life, I have a great mind to kick you!" – Oons and confusion! [Starts up.] Was ever man so abused! – Ay, Mirabel set me on.
Enter Petit.
Petit. Well, sir, how d'ye find yourself?
Dur. You son of a nine-eyed whore, d'ye come to abuse me? I'll kick you with a vengeance, you dog!
[Petit runs off, and Duretete after him.
ACT THE THIRD
SCENE I
Old Mirabel's House
Enter Old and Young Mirabel, meeting
Old Mir. Bob, come hither, Bob.
Y. Mir. Your pleasure, sir?
Old Mir. Are not you a great rogue, sirrah?
Y. Mir. That's a little out of my comprehension, sir; for I've heard say, that I resemble my father.
Old Mir. Your father is your very humble slave – I tell thee what, child, thou art a very pretty fellow, and I love thee heartily; and a very great villain, and I hate thee mortally.
Y. Mir. Villain, sir! Then I must be a very impudent one; for I can't recollect any passage of my life that I'm ashamed of.
Old Mir. Come hither, my dear friend; dost see this picture?
[Shows him a little Picture.
Y. Mir. Oriana's? Pshaw!
Old Mir. What, sir, won't you look upon't? – Bob, dear Bob, pr'ythee come hither now – Dost want any money, child?
Y. Mir. No, sir.
Old Mir. Why, then, here's some for thee: come here now – How canst thou be so hard-hearted, an unnatural, unmannerly rascal, (don't mistake me, child, I a'n't angry) as to abuse this tender, lovely, good-natured, dear rogue? – Why, she sighs for thee, and cries for thee, pouts for thee, and snubs for thee; the poor little heart of it is like to burst – Come, my dear boy, be good-natured, like your own father; be now – and then, see here, read this – the effigies of the lovely Oriana, with thirty thousand pound to her portion – thirty thousand pound, you dog! thirty thousand pound, you rogue! how dare you refuse a lady with thirty thousand pound, you impudent rascal?
Y. Mir. Will you hear me speak, sir?
Old Mir. Hear you speak, sir! If you had thirty thousand tongues, you could not out-talk thirty thousand pound, sir.
Y. Mir. Nay, sir, if you won't hear me, I'll begone, sir! I'll take post for Italy this moment.
Old Mir. Ah, the fellow knows I won't part with him! Well, sir, what have you to say?
Y. Mir. The universal reception, sir, that marriage has had in the world, is enough to fix it for a public good, and to draw every body into the common cause; but there are some constitutions, like some instruments, so peculiarly singular, that they make tolerable music by themselves, but never do well in a concert.
Old Mir. Why, this is reason, I must confess, but yet it is nonsense too; for, though you should reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of a good estate, you talk like a fool.
Y. Mir. But, sir, if you bribe me into bondage with the riches of Crœsus, you leave me but a beggar, for want of my liberty.
Old Mir. Was ever such a perverse fool heard? 'Sdeath, sir! why did I give you education? was it to dispute me out of my senses? Of what colour, now, is the head of this cane? You'll say, 'tis white, and, ten to one, make me believe it too – I thought that young fellows studied to get money.
Y. Mir. No, sir, I have studied to despise it; my reading was not to make me rich, but happy, sir.
Old Mir. There he has me again, now! But, sir, did not I marry to oblige you?
Y. Mir. To oblige me, sir! in what respect, pray?
Old Mir. Why, to bring you into the world, sir; wa'n't that an obligation?
Y. Mir. And, because I would have it still an obligation, I avoid marriage.
Old Mir. How is that, sir?
Y. Mir. Because I would not curse the hour I was born.
Old Mir. Lookye, friend, you may persuade me out of my designs, but I'll command you out of yours; and, though you may convince my reason that you are in the right, yet there is an old attendant of sixty-three, called positiveness, which you, nor all the wits in Italy, shall ever be able to shake: so, sir, you're a wit, and I'm a father: you may talk, but I'll be obeyed.
Y. Mir. This it is to have the son a finer gentleman than the father; they first give us breeding, that they don't understand; then they turn us out of doors, because we are wiser than themselves. But I'm a little aforehand with the old gentleman. [Aside.] Sir, you have been pleased to settle a thousand pound sterling a year upon me; in return of which, I have a very great honour for you and your family, and shall take care that your only and beloved son shall do nothing to make him hate his father, or to hang himself. So, dear sir, I'm your very humble servant.[Runs off.
Old Mir. Here, sirrah! rogue! Bob! villain!
Enter Dugard
Dug. Ah, sir! 'tis but what he deserves.
Old Mir. 'Tis false, sir! he don't deserve it: what have you to say against my boy, sir?
Dug. I shall only repeat your own words.
Old Mir. What have you to do with my words? I have swallowed my words already; I have eaten them up. – I say, that Bob's an honest fellow, and who dares deny it?
Enter Bisarre
Bis. That dare I, sir: – I say, that your son is a wild, foppish, whimsical, impertinent coxcomb; and, were I abused, as this gentleman's sister is, I would make it an Italian quarrel, and poison the whole family.
Dug. Come, sir, 'tis no time for trifling: my sister is abused; you are made sensible of the affront, and your honour is concerned to see her redressed.
Old Mir. Lookye, Mr. Dugard, good words go farthest. I will do your sister justice, but it must be after my own rate; nobody must abuse my son but myself; for, although Robin be a sad dog, yet he's nobody's puppy but my own.
Bis. Ay, that's my sweet-natured, kind, old gentleman – [Wheedling him.] We will be good, then, if you'll join with us in the plot.
Old Mir. Ah, you coaxing young baggage! what plot can you have to wheedle a fellow of sixty-three?
Bis. A plot that sixty-three is only good for; to bring other people together, sir. You must act the Spaniard, because your son will least suspect you; and, if he should, your authority protects you from a quarrel, to which Oriana is unwilling to expose her brother.
Old Mir. And what part will you act in the business, madam?
Bis. Myself, sir; my friend is grown a perfect changeling: these foolish hearts of ours spoil our heads presently; the fellows no sooner turn knaves, but we turn fools: but I am still myself, and he may expect the most severe usage from me, because I neither love him, nor hate him.[Exit.
Old Mir. Well said, Mrs. Paradox! but, sir, who must open the matter to him?
Dug. Petit, sir; who is our engineer general; and here he comes.
Enter Petit
Petit. O, sir, more discoveries! are all friends about us?
Dug. Ay, ay, speak freely.
Petit. You must know, sir, – od's my life, I'm out of breath! you must know, sir, – you must know —
Old Mir. What the devil must we know, sir?
Petit. That I have [Pants and blows.] bribed, sir, bribed – your son's secretary of state.
Old Mir. Secretary of state! – who's that, for Heaven's sake?
Petit. His valet de chambre, sir? You must know, sir, that the intrigue lay folded up in his master's clothes; and, when he went to dust the embroidered suit, the secret flew out of the right pocket of his coat, in a whole swarm of your crambo songs, short-footed odes, and long-legged pindarics.
Old Mir. Impossible!
Petit. Ah, sir, he has loved her all along; there was Oriana in every line, but he hates marriage. Now, sir, this plot will stir up his jealousy, and we shall know, by the strength of that, how to proceed farther.
Come, sir, let's about it with speed:
'Tis expedition gives our king the sway;
For expedition to the French give way;
Swift to attack, or swift – to run away.
[Exeunt.
Enter Young Mirabel and Bisarre, passingcarelessly by one another
Bis. [Aside.] I wonder what she can see in this fellow, to like him?
Y. Mir. [Aside.] I wonder what my friend can see in this girl, to admire her?
Bis. [Aside.] A wild, foppish, extravagant, rake-hell!
Y. Mir. [Aside.] A light, whimsical, impertinent, madcap!
Bis. Whom do you mean, sir?
Y. Mir. Whom do you mean, madam?
Bis. A fellow, that has nothing left to re-establish him for a human creature, but a prudent resolution to hang himself!
Y. Mir. There is a way, madam, to force me to that resolution.
Bis. I'll do it, with all my heart.
Y. Mir. Then you must marry me.
Bis. Lookye, sir, don't think your ill manners to me, shall excuse your ill usage of my friend; nor, by fixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for the absent; for I'm resolved, nay, I come prepared, to make you a panegyric, that shall mortify your pride, like any modern dedication.
Y. Mir. And I, madam, like a true modern patron, shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble.
Bis. Come, sir, to let you see what little foundation you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll take you to pieces.
Y. Mir. And what piece will you chuse?
Bis. Your heart, to be sure; because I should get presently rid on't: your courage I would give to a Hector, your wit to a lewd playmaker, your honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, and your soul to its master.
Y. Mir. I had the oddest dream last night of the Duchess of Burgundy; methought the furbelows of her gown were pinned up so high behind, that I could not see her head for her tail.
Bis. The creature don't mind me! do you think, sir, that your humorous impertinence can divert me? No, sir, I'm above any pleasure that you can give, but that of seeing you miserable. And mark me, sir, my friend, my injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy, and you shall be a husband, as much as the rites of marriage, and the breach of them, can make you.
[Here Mirabel pulls out a Virgil, and readsto himself, while she speaks.
Mir. [Reading.]
At Regina dolos, (quis fallere possit amantem?)
Dissimulare etiam sperásti perfide tantum —
Very true.
Posse nefas.
By your favour, friend Virgil, 'twas but a rascally trick of your hero, to forsake poor pug so inhumanly.
Bis. I don't know what to say to him. The devil – what's Virgil to us, sir?
Mir. Very much, madam; the most apropos in the world – for, what should I chop upon, but the very place where the perjured rogue of a lover, and the forsaken lady, are battling it tooth and nail! Come, madam, spend your spirits no longer; we'll take an easier method: I'll be Æneas now, and you shall be Dido, and we'll rail by book. Now for you, Madam Dido:
Nec te noster amor, nec te data dextera quondam,
Nec Meritura tenet crudeli funere Dido—
Ah, poor Dido![Looking at her.
Bis. Rudeness! affronts! impatience! I could almost start out, even to manhood, and want but a weapon, as long as his, to fight him upon the spot. What shall I say?
Mir. Now she rants.
Quæ quibus anteferam? jam jam nec Maxima Juno.
Bis. A man! No, the woman's birth was spirited away.
Mir. Right, right, madam, the very words.
Bis. And some pernicious elf left in the cradle, with human shape, to palliate growing mischief.
[Both speak together, and raise their Voices by Degrees.
Mir. Perfide, sed duris genuit te Cautibus horrens
Caucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt Ubera Tigres.
Bis. Go, sir, fly to your midnight revels —
Mir. Excellent!
I sequere Italiam ventis, pete regna per undas,