Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Mr. Scandal, for Heaven's sake, sir, try if you can dissuade him from turning poet.

Scand. Poet! He shall turn soldier first, and rather depend upon the outside of his head, than the lining! Why, what the devil! has not your poverty made you enemies enough? must you needs shew 'your wit to get more?

Jer. Ay, more indeed: for who cares for any body that has more wit than himself?

Scand. Jeremy speaks like an oracle. Don't you see how worthless great men and dull rich rogues avoid a witty man of small fortune? Why, he looks like a writ of inquiry into their titles and estates; and seems commissioned by Heaven to seize the better half. Val. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be revenged.

Scand. Rail! at whom? the whole world? Impotent and vain! Who would die a martyr to sense, in a country where the religion is folly? You may stand at bay for a while; but, when the full cry is against you, you sha'nt have fair play for your life. If you can't be fairly run down by the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by the huntsmen.-No, turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, "parson, be chaplain to an "atheist, or stallion to an old woman," any thing but poet. A modern poet is worse, more servile, timorous, and fawning, than any I have named: without you could retrieve the ancient honours of the name, recal the stage of Athens, and be allowed the force of open honest satire.

-

Val. You are as inveterate against our poets, as if your character had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently bent upon the trade. -[One knocks.] Jeremy, see whose there. [Jer. goes to the door.]-But tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement ?

Scand. The world behaves itself, as it uses to do on such occasions. Some pity you, and condemn your father: others excuse him, and blame you. Only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well: since love and pleasurable expence have been your greatest faults.

Val. How now?

JEREMY returns.

Jer. Nothing new, sir. I have dispatched some half a dozen duns with as much dexterity as an hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.

Val. What answer have you given them ?

Scand. Patience, I suppose the old receipt!

Jer. No, faith, sir: I have put them off so long with patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced to tell them in plain downright EnglishVal. What?

Jer. That they should be paid.

Val. When?

Jer. To-morrow.

Val. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word?

Jer. Keep it? Not at all: it has been so very much

stretched, that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at the matter!—[knocking.]—Again! Sir, if you don't like my negociation, will you be pleased to answer these your. self?

Val. See who they are. [Exit Jeremy.] By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great. Secre. taries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army, lead just such a life as I do; have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiler sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts.

Scand. And you, like a truly great man, having engaged their attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more perplexed to find evasions, than you would be to invent the honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors.

Val. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your enemies. This liberty of your tongue will one day bring confinement on your body, my friend.

Enter JEREMY.

Jer. O, sir, there's Trapland the scrivener, with two suspicious fellows like lawful pads, that would knock a man down with pocket tipstaves!—And there's your father's steward; and the nurse, with one of your children, from Twit'nam.

Val. Pox on her! could she find no other time to

[ocr errors]

fling my sins in my face? Here! give her this, [gives money.] and bid her trouble me no more; a thought"less, two-handed whore! She knows my condition "well enough, and might have overlaid the child a "fortnight ago, if she had any forecast in her." Scand. What, is it bouncing Margery, with my god

son?

[ocr errors]

Jer. Yes, sir.

Scand. My blessing to the boy, with this token [gives money.] of my love. "And, d'ye hear, bid Margery put more flocks in her bed, shift twice a "week, and not work so hard, that she may not "smell so vigorously.—I shall take the air shortly."

Val. "Scandal, don't spoil my boy's milk.”—Bid Trapland come in. If I can give that Cerberus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day.

[Jeremy goes out, and brings in Trapland. Val. O Mr. Trapland! my old friend! welcome.— Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast -fly-a chair first.

Trapl. A good morning to you, Mr. Valentine; and to you, Mr. Scandal.

Scand. The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it.

Val. Come, sit you down; you know his way.

Trapl. [sits.] There is a debt, Mr. Valentine, of fifteen hundred pounds, of pretty long standing

Val. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate.-Sirrah! the sack!

Trapl. And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment.

Val. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you -my service to you! fill, fill, to honest Mr. Trapland -fuller!

Trapl. Hold! sweetheart-this is not to our business. -My service to you, Mr. Scandal !—[drinks.]—Į have forborn as long

Val. T'other glass, and then we'll talk-Fill, Je

remy.

Trapl. No more, in truth-I have forborn, I say— Val. Sirrah! fill! when I bid you.-And how does your handsome daughter?-Come, a good husband to her. [drinks. Trapl. Thank you-I have been out of this moneyVal. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.

Trapl. And, in short, I can be put off no longer. Val. I was much obliged to you for your supply: it did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland's health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress; though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass.

Scand. What? I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whore-master that was not an honest fellow.

Trapl. Fie, Mr. Scandal, you never knew !—

« VorigeDoorgaan »