would be a great comfort to me. Hem, Hem! | her to hear it. If it won't interrupt you, Mr Ben good night. [Exit FORE. will entertain you with a song. Scand. Good night, good Mr Foresight. And I hope Mars and Venus will be in conjunctionwhile your wife and I are together. you Mrs Fore. Well; and what use do you hope to make of this project? You don't think that are ever like to succeed in your design upon me? Scand. Yes, faith, I do; I have a better opinion both of you and myself, than to despair. Mrs Fore. Did you ever hear such a toad?Hark'ye, devil: do you think any woman honest? Scand. Yes, several, very honest-they'll cheat a little at cards, sometimes; but that's nothing. Mrs Fore. Pshaw! but virtuous, I mean? Scand. Yes, faith, I believe some women are virtuous, too; but 'tis, as I believe some men are valiant, through fear-For why should a man court danger, or a woman shun pleasure? Mrs. Fore. I'll swear you're impudent. Mrs Fore. Pish, you'd tell me so, though you did not think so. Scand. And you'd think so, though I did not tell you so and now think we know one an other pretty well. Mrs Fore. O Lord! who's here? Enter MRS FRAIL and BEN. Ben. Mess, I love to speak my mind-Father has nothing to do with me. Nay, I can't say that neither; he has something to do with me; but what does that signify? If so be, that I ben't minded to be steered by him, 'tis as thof he should strive against wind and tide. Mrs Frail. Ay, but, my dear, we must keep it secret, till the estate be settled; for, you know, marrying without an estate is like sailing in a ship without ballast. Ben. He, he, he! why that's true; just so for all the world, it is as like as two cable ropes. Mrs Frail. And though I have a good portion, you know one would not venture all in one bottom. Ben. Why, that's true again; for, mayhap, one bottom may spring a leak. You have hit it, indeed; mess, you've nicked the channel. Mrs Frail. Well, but if you should forsake me after all, you'd break my heart. Ben. Break your heart? I'd rather the Marygold should break her cable in a storm, as well as I love her. Flesh, you don't think I'm falsehearted, like a landman? A sailor would be honest, thof, mayhap, he has never a penny of money in his pocket. Mayhap, I may not have so fair a face as a citizen or courtier; but, for all that, I've as good blood in my veins, and a heart as sound as a biscuit. Mrs Frail. And will you love me always? Ben. Nay, an I love once, I'll stick like pitch; I'll tell you that. Come, I'll sing you a song of a sailor. Mrs Frail. Hold, there's my sister; I'll call Ben. The song was made upon one of our ship's-crew's wife; our boatswain made the song; mayhap you know her, sir. Before she married, she was called Buxom Joan of Deptford. Scand. I have heard of her. [BEN sings BALLAD. A soldier and a sailor, Whose name was Buxom Joan. The soldier swore like thunder, With fighting for her sake. But while these three were prating, He then might play his part: That won the fair maid's heart. Ben. Thus we live at sea; eat biscuit, and drink flip; put on a clean shirt once a quartercome home, and lie with our landladies once a year; get rid of a little money, and then put off with the next fair wind. How d'ye like us? Mrs Frail. Oh, you are the happiest, merriest men alive! Mrs Fore. We're beholden to Mr Benjamin for this entertainment. I believe it is late. Ben. Why, forsooth, an you think so, you had best go to bed. For my part, I mean to toss a can, and remember my sweetheart, before I turn in; mayhap I may dream of her! Mrs Fore. Mr Scandal, you had best go to bed, and dream, too. Scand. Why, faith, I have a good lively imagination; and can dream as much to the purpose as another, it I set about it. But dreaming is poor retreat of a lazy, hopeless, and imperfect lover. [Exeunt. the SCENE I-VALENTINE'S Lodgings. ACT IV. Enter SCANDAL and JEREMY. Scand. WELL, is your master ready! does he look madly, and talk madly? Jer. Yes, sir; you need make no great doubt of that: he, that was so near turning poet yesterday morning, can't be much to seek in playing the madman to day. Scand. Would he have Angelica acquainted with the design? Jer. No, sir, not yet. He has a mind to try whether his playing the madman won't make her play the fool, and fall in love with him; or at least own that she has loved him all this while, and concealed it. Scand. I saw her take her coach just now with her maid; and think I heard her bid the coachman drive hither. Jer. Like enough, sir: for I told her maid this morning, my master was run stark mad, only for love of her mistress. I hear a coach stop: if it should be she, sir, I believe he would not see her, till he hears how she takes it. Scand. Well, I'll try her-'tis she; here she comes. Enter ANGELICA. Ang. Mr Scandal, I suppose you don't think it a novelty, to see a woman visit a man at his own lodgings in a morning? Scand. Not upon a kind occasion, madam. But, when a lady comes, tyrannically, to insult a ruined lover, and make manifest the cruel triumphs of her beauty, the barbarity of it something surprizes me. Ang. I don't like raillery from a serious face. Pray, tell me what is the matter? Jer. No strange matter, madam; my master's mad, that's all. I suppose your ladyship has thought him so a great while. Ang. How d'ye mean! mad? I should be vext to have a trick put upon me !May I not see him? Scand. I'm afraid the physician is not willing you should see him yet. Jeremy go in and inquire. [Exit JEREMY. Ang. Ha! I saw him wink and smile! I fancy a trick. I'll try. [Aside.] I would disguise to all the world, sir, a failing which I must own to you -I fear my happiness depends upon the recovery of Valantine. Therefore, I conjure you, as you are his friend, and as you have compassion on one fearful of affliction, to tell me what I am to hope for-I cannot speak-But you may tell me, for you know what I would ask. Scand. So, this is pretty plain !-Be not too much concerned, madam; I hope his condition is not desperate. An acknowledgment of love from you, perhaps, may work a cure, as the fear of your aversion occasioned his distemper. Ang. Say you so? nay, then I'm convinced : and if I don't play trick for trick, may I never taste the pleasure of revenge! [Aside.]—Ac knowledgement of love! I find you have mistaken my compassion, and think me guilty of a weakness I am a stranger to. But I have too much sincerity to deceive you, and too much charity to suffer him to be deluded with vain hopes. Good nature and humanity oblige me to be concerned for him but to love, is neither in my power nor inclination. Scand. Hey, brave woman, i'faith !—Won't you see him then, if he desires it? Ang. What signifies a madman's desires? besides, 'twould make me uneasy-If I don't see him, perhaps my concern for him may lessen— If I forget him, 'tis no more than he has done by himself; and now the surprise is over, methinks I'm not half so sorry as I was. Scand. So, faith, good-nature works apace; you were confessing just now an obligation to his love. Ang. But I have considered that passions are unreasonable and involuntary. If he loves, he Jer. Why, faith, madam, he's mad for want of can't help it; and if I don't love, I cannot help his wits, just as he was poor for want of money.it: no more than he can help his being a man, His head is e'en as light as his pockets; and any or my being a woman; or no more than I can, body, that has a mind to a bad bargain, can't do help my want of inclination to stay longer here. better than to beg him for his estate. [Exit. Scand. Humph!-An admirable composition, faith, this same womankind! Enter JEREMY. Jer. What, is she gone, sir? Scand. Gone? why she was never here, nor any where else; nor I don't know her, if I sec her, nor you neither. Jer. Good lack! what's the matter now? are any more of us to be mad? Why, sir, my master longs to see her; and is almost mad in good earnest with the joyful news of her being here. Scand. We are all under a mistake. Ask no Sir Sam. Gads bobs, does he not know? Is he questions, for I can't resolve you; but I'll inform mischievous? I'll speak gently. Val, Val, dost your master. In the mean time, if our project thou not know me, boy? not know thy own fasucceed no better with his father than it doesther, Val? I am thy own father; and this, howith his mistress, he may descend from his exal- nest Brief Buckram, the lawyer. tation of madness into the road of common sense, and be content only to be made a fool with other reasonable people. I hear sir Sampson. You know your cue? I'll to your master. [Exit. Enter SIR SAMPSON and BUCKRAM. Sir Sam. D'ye see, Mr Buckram, here's the paper signed with his own hand. Buck. Good, sir. And the conveyance is ready drawn in this box, if he be ready to sign and seal. Val. It may be so-I did not know you--the world is full. There are people that we do know, and people that we do not know, and yet the sun shines upon all alike. There are fathers that have many children; and there are children that have many fathers--'tis strange! But I am Honesty, and come to give the world the lie. Sir Sam. Body o'me, I know not what to say to him! Val. Why does that lawyer wear black?-Sir Sam. Ready! body o'me, he must be does he carry his conscience without-side? Law ready his sham sickness sha'nt excuse him-yer, what art thou? dost thou know me? O, here's his scoundrel. Sirrah, where's your master? : Jer. Ah, sir, he's quite gone! Sir Sam. Gone! what, he's not dead? Sir Sam. What, is he gone out of town? run away? ha! has he tricked me? Speak, varlet. Jer. No, no, sir, he's safe enough, sir, an he were but as sound, poor gentleman! He is indeed here, sir, and not here, sir. Sir Sam. Hey-day, rascal, do you banter me? sirrah, d'ye banter me?-Speak, sirrah; where is he? for I will find him. Jer. Would you could, sir; for he has lost himself. Indeed, sir, I have almost broke my heart about him--I can't refrain tears when I think on him, sir: I'm as melancholy for him as a passing-bell, sir; or a horse in a pond. Sir Sam. A pox confound your similitudes, sir: -Speak to be understood: and tell me in plain terms what is the matter with him, or I'll crack your fool's skull. Jer. Ah, you've hit it, sir; that's the matter with him, sir; his skull's cracked, poor gentleman! he's stark mad, sir. Sir Sam. Mad! Buck. What, is he non compos? Buck. Why, then, all's obliterated, sir Sampson. If he be non compos mentis, his act and deed will be of no effect; it is not good in law. Sir Sam. Oons, I won't believe it; let me see him, sir. Mad! I'll make him find his senses. Jer. Mr Scandal is with him, sir; I'll knock at the door. Buck. O Lord! what must I say?—Yes, sir. Val. Thou liest; for I am Honesty. Tis hard I cannot get a livelihood amongst you. I have been sworn out of Westminster-Hall the first day of every term-Let me see--no matter how long ---But I'll tell you one thing; it is a question that would puzzle an arithmetician, if I should ask him, whether the bible saves more souls in Westminster-Abbey, or damns more in Westster-Hall--For my part, I am Honesty, and can't tell; I have very few acquaintance. Sir Sam. Body o' me, he talks sensibly in his madness-Has he no intervals? Jer. Very short, sir. Buck. Sir, I can do you no service while he's in this condition. Here's your paper, sir-He may do me a mischief if I stay-The convey ance is ready, sir, if he recover his senses. [Erit. Sir Sam. Hold, hold; don't you go yet. Scand. You'd better let him go, sir; and send for him if there be occasion: for I fancy his presence provokes him more. Val. Is the lawyer gone? 'Tis well; then we may drink about, without going together by the ears. Heigh ho! what o'clock is it? My father here! your blessing, sir. Sir Sam. He recovers !---Bless thee, Val!-How dost thou do, boy? Val. Thank you, sir, pretty well. I have been a little out of order. Won't you please to sit, sir? Sir Sam. Ay, boy. Come, thou shalt sit down by me. Fal. Sir, 'tis my duty to wait. Sir Sam. No, no: come, come, sit thee dowy, honest Val. How dost thou do? let me feel thy [Goes to the scene, which opens and dis- pulse-Oh, pretty well now, Val. Body o' me, covers VALENTINE and SCANDAL. VA-I was sorry to see thee indisposed: but I am glad LENTINE upon a couch, disorderly thou art better, honest Val. dressed.] Val. I thank you, sir. Scand. Miracle! The monster grows loving. Sir Sam. How now? what's here to do? Val. Ha! who's that? [Starting. Scand. For Heaven's sake, softly, sir, and gently: don't provoke him. l'al. Answer me, who's that? and that? Aside. Sir Sam. Let me feel thy hand again, Val. It does not shake-I believe thou canst write, Val? Ha, boy? thou canst write thy name, Val?— [Aside. Jeremy, step and overtake Mr Buckram; bid him make haste back with the conveyance-quick! [Exit JEREMY. Scand. That ever I should suspect such a heathen of any remorse! Sir Sam. Dost thou know this paper, Val? I know thou'rt honest, and wilt perform articles. [Shews him the paper, but holds it out of his reach.] Val. Pray let me see it, sir; you hold it so far off, that I can't tell whether I know it or no. Sir Sam. See it, boy? Ay, ay, why thou dost see it 'tis thy own hand, Vally. Why, let me see, I can read it as plain as can be: look you here-[Reads.] The condition of this obligation'-Look you, as plain as can be, so it begins -And then at the bottom- As witness my hand, VALENTINE LEGEND, in great lettersWhy, 'tis as plain as the nose on one's face. What, are my eyes better than thine? I believe I can read it farther off yet-let me see— [Stretches his arm as far as he can. Val. Will you please to let me hold it, sir? Sir Sam. Let thee hold it, say'st thou?-Ay, with all my heart-What matter is it who holds it? What need any body hold it ?—I'll put it in | my pocket, Val, and then nobody need hold it[Puts the paper in his pocket.] There, Val: its safe enough, boy. But thou shalt have it as soon as thou hast set thy hand to another paper, little Val. Enter JEREMY and BUCKRAM. Val. What, is my bad genius here again? Oh no, 'tis the lawyer, with an itching palm; and he's come to be scratched. My nails are not long enough. Let me have a pair of red hot tongs quickly, quickly; and you shall see me act St Dunstan, and lead the devil by the nose. Buck. O Lord, let me be gone! I'll not venture myself with a madman. [Runs out. Val. Ha, ha, ha! you need not run so fast. Honesty will not overtake you. Ha, ha, ha! the rogue found me out to be in forma pauperis presently. Sir Sam. Oons! what a vexation is here! I know not what to do or say, or which way to go. Val. Who's that, that's out of his way? I am Honesty, and can set him right. Hark'ce, friend, the strait road is the worst way you can go. He that follows his nose always, will very often be led into a stink. Probatum est. But what are you for? religion or politics? There's a couple of topics for you, no more like one another than oil and vinegar; and yet these two, beaten together by a state cook, make sauce for the whole na tion. Sir Sam. What the devil had I to do, ever to beget sons? why did I ever marry? Val. Because thou wert a monster, old boy. The two greatest monsters in the world, are a man and a woman. What's thy opinion? Sir Sam. Why, my opinion is, that these two monsters, joined together, make yet a greater; that's a man and his wife. Val. Aha, old Truepenny! sayest thou so? Thou hast nicked it. But it is wonderful strange, Jeremy. Jer. What is it, sir? Val. That grey hairs should cover a green head-and I make a fool of my father. What's here? Erra Pater, or a bearded sibyl? If prophecy comes, Honesty must give place. [Exeunt VALENTINE and JEREMY. Enter FORESIGHT, MRS FORESIGHT, and Fore. What says he? What did he prophesy? Ha, Sir Sampson! Bless us! how are we?" Sir Sam. Are we? A pox on your prognostications! Why, we are fools as we used to be. Oons, that you could not foresee that the moon would predominate, and my son be mad! Where's your oppositions, your trinės, and your quadrates? Ah! pox on't, that I, who know the world, and men and manners, who don't believe a syllable in the sky and stars, and sun and almanacks, and trash, should be directed by a dreamer, an omen-hunter, and defer business in expectation of a lucky hour! when, body o'me! 'there never was a lucky hour after the first opportunity. Exit. Fore. Ah, sir Sampson, Heaven help your head! This is none of your lucky hours Nemo omnibus horis sapit!What, is he gone, and in contempt of science? I stars, and unconvertible ignorance attend him! Scand. You must excuse his passion, Mr Foresight; for he has been heartily vexed. His son is non compos mentis, and thereby incapable of making any conveyance in law; so that all his measures are disappointed. Fore. Ha! say you so? Mrs Frail. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of hope, then? [Aside to MRS Foresight. Mrs Fore. O sister, what will you do with him? Mrs Frail. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul weather. He's used to an inconstant element, and won't be surprised to see the tide turned. Fore. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this? [Considers. Scand. Madam, you and I can tell him something else, that he did not foresee, and more particularly relating to his own fortune. [Aside to MRS FORESIGHT.] You look pretty well, Mr Foresight. How did you rest last night? Fore. Truly, Mr Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams, and distracted visions, that I remember little. Scand. But would you not talk with Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I am apt to believe, there is something mysterious in his dis- | have I set my heart upon! O, I am happy to course, and sometimes rather think him inspired than mad. have discovered the shelves and quicksands, that lurk beneath that smiling faithless face? Ben. Hey-toss! what's the matter now? why, Mrs Frail. O see me no more-for thou wert born among rocks, suckled by whales, cradled in a tempest, and whistled to by winds; and thou art come forth with fins and scales, and three rows of teeth, a most outrageous fish of prey. Fore. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr Scandal, truly. I am inclining to your Turk-you be'nt angry, be you? ish opinion in this matter, and do reverence a man, whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to him. Mrs Frail. Sister, do you go with them; I'll find out my lover, and give him his discharge, and come to you. [Exeunt SCANDAL, MR and MRS FORESIGHT.] On my conscience, here he comes ! Enter BEN. Ben. All mad, I think. Flesh, I believe all the calentures of the sea are come ashore, for my part. Mrs Frail. Mr Benjamin in choler! Ben. No, I'm pleased well enough, now I have found you. Mess, I have had such a hurricane on your account yonder! Mrs Frail. My account? Pray, what's the matter? Ben. Why, father came, and found me squabbling with yon chitty-faced thing, as he would have me marry-so he asked, what was the matter. He asked in a surly sort of a way. It seems brother Val is gone mad, and so that put'n into a passion; but what did I know that? what's that to me? So he asked in a surly sort of manner and, Gad, I answered 'en as surlily. What, thof he be my father, I an't bound prentice to 'en: so, faith, I told'n, in plain terms, if I were minded to marry, I'd marry to please myself, not him; and, for the young woman that he provided for me, I thought it more fitting for her to learn her sampler, and make dirt-pies, than to look after a husband; for my part, I was none of her manI had another voyage to make, let him take it as he will. Mrs Frail. So, then, you intend to go to sea again? Ben. Nay, nay, my mind ran upon you-but I would not tell him so much. So he said, he'd make my heart ache; and if so be, that he could get a woman to his mind, he'd marry himself. Gad, says I, an you play the fool, and marry at these years, there's more danger of your head's aching than my heart! He was woundy angry, when I giv'n that wipe-he hadn't a word to say; and so I left'n, and the green girl together; mayhap the bee may bite, and he'll marry her himself-with all my heart! Mrs Frail. And were you this undutiful and graceless wretch to your father? Ben. Then, why was he graceless first? If I am undutiful and graceless, why did he beget me so? I did not beget myself. Mrs Frail. O impiety! how have I been mistaken! What an inhuman merciless creature Ben. O Lord! O Lord! she's mad, poor young woman! Love has turned her senses; her brain is quite overset. Well-a-day! how shall I do to set her to rights? Mrs Frail. No, no, I am not mad, monster! I am wise enough to find you out. Hadst thou the impudence to aspire at being a husband, with that stubborn and disobedient temper? You, that know not how to submit to a father, presume to have a sufficient stock of duty to undergo a wife? I should have been finely fobbed, indeed! very finely fobbed! Ben. Harkee, forsooth; if so be, that you are in your right senses, d'ye see, for aught as I perceive, I'm like to be finely fobbed-if I have got anger here upon your account, and you are tacked about already! What d'ye mean, after all your fair speeches, and stroking my cheeks, and kissing and hugging, what, would you sheer off so? would you, and leave me aground? Mrs Frail. No, I'll leave you adrift, and ga which way you will. Ben. What, are you false-hearted, then? Ben. More shame for you!-The wind's changed? It is an ill wind blows nobody good. Mayhap I have a good riddance on you, if these be your tricks. What, did you mean all this while to make a fool of me? Mrs Frail. Any fool, but a husband. Ben. Husband! Gad, I would not be your husband, if you would have me, now I know your mind; thof you had your weight in gold and jewels, and thof I loved you never so well. Mrs Frail. Why, canst thou love, porpus? Ben. No matter what I can do; don't call names. I don't love you so well as to bear that, whatever I did. I'm glad you shew yourself, mistress: let them marry you as don't know you. Gad, I know you too well, by sad experience; I believe he that marries you will go to sea in a hen-pecked frigate. I believe that, young woman! and mayhap may come to an anchor at Cuckold's Point; so there's a dash for you, take it as you will; mayhap you may hollow after me, when I won't come to. [Exit. Mrs Frail. Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on't. [Sings] My true love is gone to sea! [Enter MRS FORESIGHT.] O sister, had you come a minute sooner, you would have seen the resolution of a lover. Honest Tar and I are parted, and with the same indifference that we met. |