Merc. No, thou shalt not disgrace my father: for there are few baftards now-a-days worth owning. Sof. Ah! poor Sofia! What will become of thee? Merc. Yet again profanely using my proper name? Sof. I did not mean myfelf-I was thinking of another Sofia, a poor fellow, that was once of my acquaintance, unfortunately banish'd out of doors, when dinner was just coming upon the table. Enter Phædra. Phad. Sofia, you and I must-Blefs me! what have we here-a couple of you! or do I fee double? Sof. I would fain bring it about, that I might make one of 'em but he's unreasonable, and will needs incorporate me, and fwallow me whole into himfelf. If he would be content to be but one and a half, 'twould never grieve me. : Merc. 'Tis a perverse rascal! I kick him and cudgel him to no purpose; for still he's obftinate to ftick to me and I can never beat him out of my refemblance. Phed. Which of you two is Sofia? for t'other muft be the devil. Sof. You had beft afk him, that has play'd the devil with my back and fides. Merc. You had beft afk him, who gave you the gold goblet. Phad. No, that's already given: but he shall be my Sofia that will give me fuch another. Merc. I find you have been interloping, firrah. Sof. No, indeed, fir! I only promis'd her a gold thimble; which was as much as comes to my proportion of being Sofia. Phad. This is no Sofia for my money: beat him away, t'other Sofia; he grows infufferable. Sof. [Afide.] Wou'd I were valiant, that I might beat him away and fucceed him at the dinner, for a pragmatical fon of a whore, as he is Merc. What's that you are muttering betwixt your teeth, of a son of a whore, firrah? Sof. I am fure I meant you no offence; for, if I am not Sofia, I am the son of a whore, for ought I know: and, and, if you are Sofia, you may be the son of a whore, for ought you know. Merc. Whatever I am, I will be Sofia, as long as I please and whenever you vifit me, you shall be fure of the civility of the cudgel. Sof. If you will promife to beat me into the house, you may begin when you please with me: but to be beaten out of the house, at dinner-time, flesh and blood can never bear it. [Mercury beats him about: and Sofia is ftill making towards the door: but Mercury gets betwixt; and at length drives him off the ftage. Phad. In the name of wonder, what are you that are Sofia, and are not Sofia ? Merc. If thou wouldst know more of me, my person is freely at thy difpofing. Phad. Then I difpofe of it to you again; for 'tis fo ugly, 'tis not for my use. Merc. I can be ugly or handfome as I please; go to bed old, and rife young. I have fo many fuits of perfons by me, I can fhift 'em when I will. Phad. You are a fool then, to put on your worst clothes, when you come a wooing. Merc. Go to; afk no more questions. I am for thy turn; for I know thy heart, and fee all thou haft about thee. In thy right pocket--let me feethree love-letters from Judge Gripus, written to the bottom, on three fides; full of fuftian paffion, and hearty nonfenfe as alfo in the fame pocket, a letter of thine intended to him; confifting of nine lines and a half, fcrawl'd and false spell'd, to fhew thou art a woman. Phad. Is the devil in you, to fee all this? Now, for Heaven's fake, do not look in t'other pocketMerc. Nay, there's nothing there, but a bawdy lampoon, and―― Phad. [Giving a great frisk.] Look no farther, I beseech you Merc. And a filver fpoon Phad. [Shrieking.] Ah! Merc. Which you purloin'd last night from Bromia. C 6 Phad. Phed. Keep my counfel, or I am undone for ever. [Holding up her hands to him. Merc. No: I'll mortify thee, now I have an handle to thy iniquity, if thou wilt not love me Phd. Well, if you'll promife me to be fecret, I will love you becaufe indeed I dare do no other. Merc. 'Tis a good girl-I will be fecret; and further, I will be affifting to thee in thy filching: for thou and I were born under the fame planet. Phad. And we fhall come to the fame end too, I'm afraid. Merc. No, no; fince thou haft wit enough already to cozen a judge, thou needft never fear hanging. Phad. And will you make yourself a younger man, and be hand fome too, and rich for you that know hearts, muft needs know, that I fhall never be conftant to fuch an ugly old Sofia. Merc. As to my youth and beauty, you shall know more of that another time. But, prithee, why art thou fo covetous of riches? Phad. Why, becaufe riches will procure every thing elfe that I can wish for. Merc. But what if every thing elfe could be procur'd without riches: would not that do as well? Phad. Why no; there's a pleasure, methinks, in having the money before one lays it out. Merc. And yet, 'til it is laid out, it is as useless as fo much dirt. Phad. Aye-that may be-but when my heart dances to the chinking of money, it is not at leisure to think of that. Merc. But fuppofe, that, without money, you could procure all that money could buy and more. Phad. Why, as well as I love money, I have no objection to any good thing that money won't buy: but pray how is it to be had? Merc. To be had why, upon the easiest terms in the world; only by a motion of the finger, or a ftamp with the foot. Phad. Phoo, that's impoffible. Phad. Mut Phad. Shall I so I will then, this minute. I stamp with my foot, or beckon with my finger? Merc. First try to find out what you wish for, which I have known a difficult task for a woman. Phad. Let me fee Merc. Come, I'll help you-If you had been put into poffeffion of Gripus's wealth yefterday, what would you have had to entertain you to-day ? Phad. Why, I wou'd have had--let me fee I wou'd have had, juft now, a band of the best mufic in Thebes, and a fong in the character of Plutus in praise of money. Merc. Well, now stamp with your foot. [Phædra flamps; the mufic ftrikes up; she starts and Screams out. Merc. Nay, nay, don't spoil the mufic-there's a friend of mine in the character of Plutus juft coming in. Phad. I am very much oblig'd to you and your friend; but, if you pleafe, I had rather keep a little farther out of his reach. Merc. Pihaw, pfhaw, ftay where you are; my friends hurt nobody without my leave. Enter Plutus, who fings the following fong. Away with the fables philofophers hold, Of pleasure that honefty gains without gold: To be rich is the bleffings of life to fecure; And the man must be certainly wretched that's poor. The virtue that claims all the Gods for its friends, The Weak can you fuccour, the Worthy reward, 5 In In Gold there are charms; for youth and the fair, Phad. There's for you now-what have you to say to that? Merc. Why, Wit fhall reply for me; and, to mortify you the more, it fhall be in the character of a woman. Phad. [To Plutus, who is going.] Stay then, Mr. Plutus, if you pleafe- let's hear what he'll fay by way of reply. Merc. That's but an ill-natur'd experiment; for Wit and Wealth have no kindness for one another : however, it shall be as you please for once. [Mercury waves his caduceus; a nymph enters in the cbaracter of Wit.] SONG. Plutus, vain is all your vaunting, Wit alone creates the bleffing, Which, exchang'd for Gold, you share: Steril Gold alone poffeffing, What has Man but gloom and care? Wit, of ev'ry art deviser, Ev'ry paffion can controll: Can to Pity move the miser, Can with mirth dilate his foul. Gold itself, on Wit depending, Folly all profufely spending, Phad. To her, Mr. Plutus. 3 DUET. |