Ld. Froth. Oh, I thought you would not be long before you found out the Wit. Care. Wit! In what? Where the Devil's the Wit, in not laughing when a Man has a mind to't? Brisk. O Lord, why can't you find it out?-Why there 'tis, in the not laughing-Don't you apprehend me? My Lord, Careless is a very honest Fellow, but hark'ye,→→→→ you understand me, fomewhat heavy, a little fhallow, or fo. Why I'll tell you now, fuppofe now you come up to me-Nay, pr'ythee Careless be inftructed. Suppofe, as I was faying, you come up to me holding your Sides, and laughing, as if you would-Well-I look grave, and ask the Cause of this immoderate Mirth You laugh on ftill, and are not able to tell me -Still I look grave, not fo much as smile. Care. Smile, no, what the Devil fhould you fmile at, when you fuppofe I can't tell you! Brisk. Pfhaw, pfhaw, pr'ythee don't interupt me.But I tell you, you shall tell me fhall be a great while firft.▸ -at laft· But it Care. Well, but pr'ythee don't let it be a great while, because I long to have it over. Brisk. Well then, you tell me fome good Jest, or very witty Thing, laughing all the while as if you were ready to dieand I hear it, and look thus- Would not you be disappointed? -- Care. No; for if it were a witty Thing, I fhould not expect you to understand it. Ld. Froth. O foy, Mr. Careless, all the World allows Mr. Brisk to have Wit, my Wife fays he has a great deal. I hope you think her a Judge. Brisk. Pooh, my Lord, his Voice goes for nothingI can't tell how to make him apprehend.-Take it t'other Way. Suppose I fay a witty thing to you? Care. Then I fhall be disappointed indeed. Mel. Let him alone, Brisk, he is obftinately bent not to be inftructed. Brisk, Brisk. I'm forry for him, the Duce take me. Ld. Froth. With all my Heart, methinks we are a Solitude without 'em. Mel. Or, what fay you to another Bottle of Champagne? Ld. Froth. O, for the Univerfe, not a Drop more I befeech you. O intemperate! I have a flufhing in my Face already. [Takes out a Pocket Glafs and looks in it. Brisk. Let me fee, let me fee, my Lord, I broke my Glass that was in the Lid of my Snuff-Box. Hum! Duce take me, I have encourag'd a Pimple here too. [Takes the Glafs and looks. Ld. Froth. Then you must mortify him with a Patch; my Wife shall supply you. Come Gentlemen, allans, here is Company coming. SCENE VI. Lady Touchwood and Maskwell. L. Touch. I'll hear no more. grateful; come, I know you falfe. Y'are falfe and un Mask. I have been frail, I confefs, Madam, for your Ladyfhip's Service. L. Touch. That I fhould truft a Man, whom I had known betray his Friend! Mask. What Friend have I betray'd? Or to whom? L. Touch. Your fond Friend Mellefont, and to me; can you deny it? Mask. I do not. L. Touch. Have you not wrong'd my Lord, who has been a Father to you in your Wants, and given you Being? Have you not wrong'd him in the highest manner, in his Bed? Mask Mask. With your Lady ship's help, and for your Service, as I told you before. I can't deny that neither.-Any thing more, Madam ? L. Touch. More! Audacious Villain. O, what's more, is moft my Shame,- -Have you not dishonour'd me? Mask. No, that I deny; for I never told in all my Life : So that Accufation's anfwer'd; on to the next. L. Touch. Death, do you dally with my Passion? Infolent Devil! But have a care,- -Provoke me not; for, by the Eternal Fire, you fhall not 'scape my Vengeance. Calm Villain! How unconcern'd he ftands, confeffing Treachery, and Ingratitude! Is there a Vice more black! -OI have Excufes, thousands for my Faults; Fire in my Temper, Paffions in my Soul, apt to ev'ry Provocation; oppreffed at once with Love, and with Despair. But a fedate, a thinking Villain, whose black Blood runs * temperately bad, what Excufe can clear! Mask. Will you be in Temper, Madam? I would not talk not to be heard. I have been[She walks about disorder'd] a very great Rogue for your fake, and you reproach me with it; I am ready to be a Rogue ftill, to do you Service; and you are flinging Confcience and Honour in my Face, to rebate my Inclinations. How am I to behave my felf? You know I am your Creature, my Life and Fortune in your Power; to disoblige you, brings me certain Ruin. Allow it, I would betray you, I would not be a Traitor to my felf: I don't pretend to Honefty, becaufe you know I am a Rafcal: But I would convince you from the Neceffity of my being firm to you. L. Touch. Neceffity, Impudence! Can no Gratitude incline you, no Obligations touch you? Have not my Fortune, and my Perfon been fubjected to your Pleasure? Were you not in the Nature of a Servant, and have not I in effect made you Lord of all, of me, and of my Lord? Where is that humble Love, the Languishing, that Adoration, which once was paid me, and everlastingly engag ed? Mask. Fixt, rooted in my Heart, whence nothing can remove 'em, yet you L. Touch. Yet, what yet? Mask. Nay, mifconceive me not, Madam, when I fay I have had a Gen'rous, and a Faithful Paffion, which you had never favour'd, but through Revenge and Policy. L. Touch. Ha! Mask. Look you, Madam, we are alone,—Pray contain your felf, and hear me. You know you lov'd your Nephew, when I first figh'd for you; I quickly found it; an Argument that I Lov'd; for with that Art you veil'd your Paffion, 'twas imperceptible to all but Jealous Eyes. This Discovery made me b ld; I confefs it; for by it, I thought you in my Power. Your Nephew's Scorn of you, added to my Hopes; I watch'd the Occafion, and took you, juft Repulfed by him, warm at once, with Love and Indignation; your Difpofition, my Arguments, and happy Opportunity, accomplish'd my Defign; I preft the yielding Minute, and was bleft. How I have lov'd you fince, Words have not fhewn, then how should Words exprefs? L. Touch. Well, mollifying Devil! met your Love with forward Fire? And have I not Mask. Your Zeal I grant was ardent, but mifplac'd; there was Revenge in view; that Woman's Idol had defil'd the Temple of the God, and Love was made a MockWorship.- A Son and Heir would have edg'd young Mellefont upon the Brink of Ruin, and left him none but you to catch at for Prevention. L. Touch. Again, provoke me! Do you wind me like a Larum, only to roufe my own ftill'd Soul for your Diverfion? Confufion! Mask. Nay, Madam, I'm gone, if you relapfe,-What needs this? I fay nothing but what you your felf, in open Hours of Love, have told me. Why fhould you deny it? Nay, how can you? Is not all this present Heat owing to the fame Fire? Do you not love him ftill? How have I this this Day offended you, but in not breaking off his Match with Cynthia? Which ere to Morrow shall be done,had you but Patience. L. Touch. How, what faid you, Maskwell, Caprice to unwind my Temper? Another Mask. By Heav'n, no; I am your Slave, the Slave of all your Pleasures; and will not reft 'till I have given you Peace, would you fuffer me. L. Touch. O, Maskwell, in vain I do disguise me from thee, thou know'ft me, know'ft the very inmoft Windings and Receffes of my Soul.. Oh Mellefont! I burn; married to Morrow! Despair strikes me. I hate him too: Let him but once be mediate Ruin feize him. Yet my Soul knows mine, and next im Mask. Compose your felf, you fhall poffefs and ruin him too, Will that please you? L. Touch. How, how? Thou dear, thou precious Villain, how? Mask. You have already been tampering with my Lady Plyant. L. Touch. I have: She is ready for any Impreffion I think fit. Mask. She must be throughly persuaded, that Mellefont loves her. L. Touch. She is fo credulous that way naturally, and likes him fo well, that she will believe it fafter than I can perfuade her. But I don't see what you can propose from fuch a trifling Defign; for her firft converfing with Mellefont, will convince her of the contrary. Mask. I know it.- I don't depend upon it.. -But it will prepare fomething else; and gain us Leifure to lay a stronger Plot: If I gain a little Time, I fhall not want Contrivance. One Minute gives Invention to destroy, What to rebuild, will a whole Age employ. |