Читать книгу The Busie Body - Susanna Centlivre - Страница 18

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ACT I. SCENE The Park.

Sir George Airy meeting Charles.

Cha. HA! Sir George Airy! A Birding thus early, what forbidden Game rouz'd you so soon? For no lawful Occasion cou'd invite a Person of your Figure abroad at such unfashionable Hours.

Sir Geo. There are some Men, Charles, whom Fortune has left free from Inquietudes, who are diligently Studious to find out Ways and Means to make themselves uneasie.

Cha. Is it possible that any thing in Nature can ruffle the Temper of a Man, whom the four Seasons of the Year compliment with as many Thousand Pounds, nay! and a Father at Rest with his Ancestors.

Sir Geo. Why there 'tis now! a Man that wants Money thinks none can be unhappy that has it; but my Affairs are in such a whimsical Posture, that it will require a Calculation of my Nativity to find if my Gold will relieve me or not.

Cha. Ha, ha, ha, never consult the Stars about that; Gold has a Power beyond them; Gold unlocks the Midnight Councils; Gold out-does the Wind, becalms the Ship, or fills her Sails; Gold is omnipotent below; it makes whole Armies fight, or fly; It buys even Souls, and bribes the Wretches to betray their Country: Then what can thy Business be, that Gold won't serve thee in?

Sir Geo. Why, I'm in Love.

Cha. In Love—Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with what, prithee, a Cherubin!

Sir Geo. No, with a Woman.

Cha. A Woman, Good, Ha, ha, ha, and Gold not help thee?

Sir Geo. But suppose I'm in Love with two—

Cha. Ay, if thou'rt in Love with two hundred, Gold will fetch 'em, I warrant thee, Boy. But who are they? who are they? come.

Sir Geo. One is a Lady, whose Face I never saw, but Witty as an Angel; the other Beautiful as Venus—

Cha. And a Fool—

Sir Geo. For ought I know, for I never spoke to her, but you can inform me; I am charm'd by the Wit of One, and dye for the Beauty of the Other?

Cha. And pray, which are you in Quest of now?

Sir Geo. I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, who is thy Father's Ward Miranda.

Cha. Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more part with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me from starving.

Sir Geo. Now you see Gold can't do every thing, Charles.

Cha. Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against you.

Sir Geo. Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou by such a Liberal Education?

Cha. Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an Uncle who defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, tho' he made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, than if it lay in Prester John's Dominions.

Sir Geo. What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it?

Cha. I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the Mistress of Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too cunning for me—I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then for my last Refuge, a Brown Musquet.

Sir Geo. What is't, can I assist thee?

Cha. Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to ask it.

Sir Geo. I am always ready, but what do's he intend to do with Miranda? Is she to be sold in private? or will he put her up by way of Auction, at who bids most? If so, Egad, I'm for him: my Gold, as you say, shall be subservient to my Pleasure.

Cha. To deal ingeniously with you, Sir George, I know very little of Her, or Home; for since my Uncle's Death, and my Return from Travel, I have never been well with my Father; he thinks my Expences too great, and I his Allowance too little; he never sees me, but he quarrels; and to avoid that, I shun his House as much as possible. The Report is, he intends to marry her himself.

Sir Geo. Can she consent to it?

Cha. Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you, I am wholly ignorant of the matter. Miranda and I are like two violent Members of a contrary Party, I can scarce allow her Beauty, tho' all the World do's; nor she me Civility, for that Contempt, I fancy she plays the Mother-in-law already, and sets the old Gentleman on to do mischief.

Sir Geo. Then I've your free Consent to get her.

Cha. Ay and my helping-hand, if occasion be.

Sir Geo. Pugh, yonder's a Fool coming this way, let's avoid him.

Cha. What Marplot, no no, he's my Instrument; there's a thousand Conveniences in him, he'll lend me his Money when he has any, run of my Errands and be proud on't; in short, he'll Pimp for me, Lye for me, Drink for me, do any thing but Fight for me, and that I trust to my own Arm for.

Sir Geo. Nay then he's to be endur'd; I never knew his Qualifications before.

Enter Marplot with a Patch cross his Face.

Marpl. Dear Charles, your's—Ha! Sir George Airy, the Man in the World, I have an Ambition to be known to (aside.) Give me thy Hand, dear Boy—

Cha. A good Assurance! But heark ye, how came your Beautiful Countenance clouded in the wrong place?

Marpl. I must confess 'tis a little Mal-a-propos, but no matter for that; a Word with you, Charles; Prithee, introduce me to Sir George—he is a Man of Wit, and I'd give ten Guinea's to—

Cha. When you have 'em, you mean.

Marpl. Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the Thread of my Discourse—I wou'd give ten Guinea's, I say, to be rank'd in his Acquaintance: Well, 'tis a vast Addition to a Man's Fortune, according to the Rout of the World, to be seen in the Company of Leading Men; for then we are all thought to be Politicians, or Whigs, or Jacks, or High-Flyers, or Low-Flyers, or Levellers—and so forth; for you must know, we all herd in Parties now.

Cha. Then a Fool for Diversion is out of Fashion, I find.

Marpl. Yes, without it be a mimicking Fool, and they are Darlings every where; but prithee introduce me.

Cha. Well, on Condition you'll give us a true Account how you came by that Mourning Nose, I will.

Marpl. I'll do it.

Cha. Sir George, here's a Gentleman has a passionate Desire to kiss your Hand.

Sir Geo. Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this Gentleman is lately come from Spain or Portugal—by his Scars.

Marpl. No really, Sir George, mine sprung from civil Fury, happening last Night into the Groom-Porters—I had a strong Inclination to go ten Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a—kind of a Milk Sop, as I thought: A Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets being empty as Charles knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly North-Britain, and broke my Face for my Deficiency.

Sir Geo. Ha! ha! and did not you draw?

Marpl. Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to make a swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin ye touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem.

Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha,

Cha. Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I suppose.

Marp. Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my Friends you know—

Sir Geo. Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll rank me in that Number.

Marpl. Sir George, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your Chariot, binds me ever yours.

Sir Geo. Trifles, you may command 'em when you please.

Cha. Provided he may command you—

Marpl. Me! why I live for no other purpose—Sir George, I have the Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman—

Sir Geo. No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies—my Parts—can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with an Air of Business, Ha!

Marpl. With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman.

Sir Geo. You know Miranda!

Marpl. What, my Sister Ward? Why, her Guardian is mine, we are Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon; that Sir Francis Gripe is a damn'd old—

Char. I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father—

Marpl. I ask your Pardon, Charles, but it is for your sake I hate him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety, makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every Heir's Jaylor. Egad, Charles, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some Ward too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality.

Sir Geo. A pleasant Fellow.

Cha. The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner spoils an Intreague than helps it—

Marpl. If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions.

Cha. Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife.

Marpl. Pish, Pox, that was an Accident.

Sir Geo. What was it, prithee?

Ch. Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him along with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to the Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the Letter, and offers her the Horses.

Marpl. I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid for.

Cha. Come, Sir George, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him to bring me the Answer into the Park.

Marpl. Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him.

Sir Geo. I must beg your Pardon, Charles, I am to meet your Father here.

Ch. My Father!

Sir Geo. Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard off; but I'll not impart till I know the Success.

Marpl. What can his Business be with Sir Francis? Now wou'd I give all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know every Man's Concern.

(Aside.

Cha. Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over a Bottle we'll compare Notes.

Marpl. Charles knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets.

(Aside.

Enter Whisper.

Whis. Sir, Sir, Mis Patch says, Isabinda's Spanish Father has quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the Park, but he infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must step again to know the Hour.

Marpl. What did Whisper say now? I shall go stark Mad, if I'm not let into this Secret.

(Aside.

Cha. Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels Pleasure at her Name. Sir George, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual Hour.

Sir Geo. Agreed; I think I see Sir Francis yonder.

(Exit.

Cha. Marplot, you must excuse me, I am engag'd.

(Exit.

Marpl. Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your Engagement is.

(Exit.

Miran. (Coming out of a Chair.) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That dog'd Sir George said he was in the Park.

Enter Patch.

Ha! Mis Patch alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to bring Isabinda to the Park?

Patch. Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible Fright—At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your Ladiship with the sad Relation.

Miran. Unhappy Isabinda! Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the Humour of Sir Jealousie Traffick.

Patch. Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in Spain, he vows he'll spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious Spanish Customs—He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten Child in the City.

Miran. Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could introduce his rigid Rules—does he think we cou'd not match them in Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break 'em: Is his Mind set upon the Spaniard for his Son-in-law still?

Patch. Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladiship.— My Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir Jealousie believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty.

Miran. I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her, or I had not parted with thee to her Father.

Patch. But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your Guardian.

Miran. It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, Patch.

Patch. But is it true, Madam?

Miran. That's not absolutely necessary.

Patch. I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is with her Father.

Miran. No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give now to be in this dissabilee in the—open Air, nay more, in pursuit of the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee.

Patch. As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old Argus.

Miran. Now Patch, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes—Ha! my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir Francis can't know me in this Dress—Let's observe 'em.