Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Cyn. Prodigious! I wonder want of fleep, and fo much love, and fo much wit as your Ladyfhip has, did not turn your brain.

L. F. O my dear Cynthia, you must not rally your friend-but really, as you fay, I wonder too-but then I had a way. For between you and I, I had whimfies and vapours, but I gave them vent.

Cyn. How, pray Madam?

L. F. O, I writ, writ abundantly

ver write?

Cyn. Write, what?

Do you ne

L. F Songs, elegies, fatires, encomiums, panegyrics, lampoons, plays, or heroic poems.

Cyn. O lord, not I, Madam; I am content to be a courteous reader.

L. F. O inconfiftent! in love, and not write! If my Lord and I had been both of your temper, we had never come together O blefs me! what a fad thing would that have been, if my Lord and I should never have met !

[ocr errors]

Cyn. Then neither my Lord nor you would ever have met with your match, on my confcience.

L. F. O' my confcience no more we should; thon fay't right for fure my Lord Froth is as fine a gentleman, and as much a man of quality! Ah! nothing at all of the common air-I think I may say he wants nothing but a blue ribband and a star, to make him shine the very phosphorus of our hemifphere. Do you understand those two hard words? If you don't, I'll explain them to you.

Cyn. Yes, yes, Madam, I am not fo ignorant. At least I won't own it, to be troubled with your instructions

[Afide.

L. F. Nay, I beg your pardon; but being derived from the Greek, I thought you might have escaped the etymology. But I am the more amazed, to find you a woman of letters, and not write! Blefs me! how can Mellefont believe you love him ?

Cyn. Why faith, Madam, he that won't take my word, fhall never have it under my hand.

L. F. I vow Mellefont's a pretty gentleman, but methinks he wants a manner.

Cyn.

[ocr errors]

Cyn. A manner! What's that, Madam?

L. F. Some diftinguishing quality, as for example, the bel air or brillant of Mr. Brifk; the folemnity, yet complaifance of my Lord, or fomething of his own that fhould look a little je ne fçai quoi; he is too much a mediocrity in my mind.

Cyn. He does not indeed affect either pertnefs or for mality, for which I like him-Here he comes.

Enter Lord Froth, Mellefont, and Brisk. Impertinent creature! I could almost be angry with her

now.

[Afide. L. F. My Lord, I have been telling Cynthia how much I have been in love with you; I fwear I have; I'm not afhamed to own it now; Ah! it makes my heart leap, I vow I figh when I think on't:-My dear Lord! ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my Lord?

[Squeezes him by the band, looks kindly on him, fighs, and then laughs out.

Ld. F. Pleafant creature! Perfectly well, Ah! that look! Ay, there it is; who could refift! 'Twas fo my heart was made a captive at firft, and ever fince it has been in love with happy flavery.

L. F. O that tongue, that dear deceitful tongue! that charming foftness in your mien and your expreffion, and then your bow! Good, my Lord, bow as you did when I gave you my picture; here, fuppofe this my picture[Gives him a pocket glass.] Pray inind, my Lord; ah! he bows charmingly. Nay, my Lord, you fhan't kifs it fo much; I fhall grow jealous, I vow now.

[He bows profoundly low, then kiffes the glass. Ld. F. I faw myfelf there, and kifled it for your fake. L. F. Ah! gallantry to the laft degree-Mr. Brifk, you are a judge; was ever any thing fo well bred as my Lord?

Brisk. Never any thing but your Ladyship, let me perish.

L. F. O prettily turned again; let me die but you have a great deal of wit.. Mr. Mellefont, don't you

think Mr. Brifk has a world of wit?

Mel. O yes, Madam.

Brisk. O dear, Madam

L. F. An infinite deal!

Brisk. Oh Heavens, Madame and the

L. F. More wit than any body,

Brisk. I am everlastingly your humble fervant, deuce take me, Madam.

Ld. F. Don't you think us a happy couple?

Cyn. I vow, my Lord, I think you the happiest couple in the world; for you are not only happy in one another and when you are together, but happy in yourselves, and by yourselves.'

Ld. F. I hope Mellefont will make a good husband too. Cyn. 'Tis my interest to believe he will, my Lord. Ld. F. D'ye think he'll love you as well as I do my wife? I am afraid not.

Cyn. I believe he'll love me better.

Ld. F. Heav'ns! that can never be; but why do you think fo?

Cyn. Because he has not fo much reafon to be fond of himself.

Ld. F. O your humble fervant for that, dear Madam. Well, Mellefont, you'll be a happy creature.

Mel, Ay, my Lord, I fhall have the fame reafon for my happiness that your Lordship has; I fhall think myfelf happy.

Ld. F. Ah, that's all.

Brisk. [To Lady Froth.] Your Ladyship is in the right; but 'egad I'm wholly turned into fatire. I confels I write but feldom, but when I do keen Iambics, egad. But my Lord was telling me, your Ladyship has made an effay toward an heroic poem.

4

L. F. Did my Lord tell you? Yes, I vow, and the fubject is my Lord's love to me. And what do you think I call it? I dare fwear you won't guess The Slabub, ha, ha, ha.

Brisk. Because my Lord's title's Froth, 'egad; ha, Ha, ha, ha, deuce take me, very apropos, and furprizing, ha, ha, ha.

L. F. He, ay, is not it? And then I call my Lord Spumofa; and myfelf, what do ye think I calf my felf?

Brisk. Lactilla, may be-'Egad I cannot tell.
L. F. Biddy, that's all; juft my own name.

Brisk. Biddy! 'Egad very pretty-Deuce take me if your Ladyship has not the art of fuprizing the most naturally in the world-I hope you'll make me happy in communicating the poem.

L. F. O, you must be my confident, I must ask your advice.

Brisk. I'm your humble fervant, let me perishprefume your Ladyfhip has read Boffu?

-I

L. F. O yes, and Rapine, and Dacier upon Ariftotle and Horace.- -My Lord, you must not be jealous, I'm communicating all to Mr. Brisk.

Ld. F. No, no, I'll allow Mr. Brifk; have you nothing about you to fhew him, my dear?

L. F. Yes, I believe I have.-Mr. Brisk, come will you go into the next room, and there I'll fhew you what I have. [Exeunt L. Froth and Brisk. Ld. F. I'll walk a turn in the garden, and come to [Exit Ld. Froth.

you.

Mel. You are thoughtful, Cynthia. Cyn. I am thinking, tho' marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves them ftill two fools; and they become more confpicuous by fetting off one another.

Mel. That's only when two fools meet, and their follies are oppofed.

Cyn. Nay, I have known two wits meet, and by the oppofition of their wit, render themselves as ridiculous as fools. 'Tis an odd game we are going to play at; what think you of drawing stakes, and giving over in time?

Mel. No, hang it, that's not endeavouring to win, becaufe it is poffible we may lofe; fince we have fhuffled and cut, let's e'en turn up trump now.

Cyn. Then I find it is like cards, if either of us have a good hand it is an accident of fortune.

Mel. No, marriage is rather like a game at bowls: fortune indeed makes the match, and the two nearest, and fometimes the two fartheft are together, but the game depends entirely upon judgment.

Cyn. Still it is a game, and confequently one of us must

be a lofer.

Mel. Not at all; only a friendly trial of skill, and the winnings to be laid out in an entertaiment.-- What's here, the mufic!--Oh, my Lord has promifed the

[blocks in formation]

company a new fong, we'll get them to give it us by the way. [Muficians croffing the ftage.] Pray let us have the favour of you, to practise the fong before the company hear it.

SONG.

Cynthia frowns whene'er I woo her,
Yet fhe's vex'd if I give over;
Much fhe fears I fhould undo her,
'But much more to lofe her lover:
Thus, in doubting, she refuses;
And not winning, thus fhe lofes.
Pr'ythee, Cynthia, look behind you,
Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you;
Then too late defire will find you,
When the power muft forfake you:
• Think, O`think o'th' fad condition,
To be paft, yet with fruition.'

Mel. You fhall have my

thanks below.

[To the mufic, they go out.

Enter Sir Paul Plyant and Lady Plyant.

Sir P. Gads bud! I am provoked into a fermentation, as my Lady Froth fays; was ever the like read of in ftory?

L. P. Sir Paul, have patience; let me alone to rattle him up.

Sir P. Pray your Lady ship give me leave to be angry -I'll rattle him up, I warrant you, I'll firk him with a certiorari.

L. P. You firk him! I'll firk him myfelf. Pray, Sir Paul, hold you contented.

Cyn. Blefs me, what makes my father in fuch a pasfion!- -I never faw him thus before."

Sir. P. Hold yourself contented, my Lady Plyant,I find paffion coming upon me by inflation, and I cannot fubmit as formerly, therefore give way.

L. P. How now! will you be pleased to retire, andSir P. No marry will I not be pleased; I am pleased angry, that's my pleasure at this time.

to be

Mel. What can this mean!

3

L. P.

« VorigeDoorgaan »