Britt. But I fay, Yes. Mrs. Britt. Don't you pretend to't. Britt. Don't you provoke me, I fay. Is this the Trade you always intend to drive? Mrs. Britt. Yes indeed is it. Britt. I fay, No. Mrs. Britt. But I fay, Yes. Do you think you fhall keep me always ftifling within Doors, where there's no body to be feen but your old fufty felf? No, I'll to the Play, where there's all forts of Company and Diverfion; where the Actors reprefent all the Brisknefs and Gaiety of Life and Pleafure; where one is entertain'd with airy Beaux, and fine Gallants, which ogle, figh, and talk the prettiest things in the World. Methinks 'tis rare to hear a young brisk Fellow court a handsome young Lafs, and fhe all the while making fuch pretty dumb Signs: firft turns afide to see who obferves, then spreads her Fan before her Face, heaves up her Breafts, and fighs at which he still fwears he loves her above all the Worldand preffes hard his Suit; tells her, what Force her Beauty, her Wit, her Shape, her Mien, all join'd in one, are of. At which the blufhing curtefies low, and to her felf replies, What charming Words he speaks! his Perfon's Heavenly, and his Voice Divine. By your Leave, Husband, you make me stay long. (Is going. there will be no great And now you talk of What a Dress is there! a Tradefman's Wife? Britt. Not in the leaft Mrs. Britt. No; but I think it fit for Sir Peter Pride's Daughter, fuch as I am. I warrant you'd have me go abroad like one, thar fells Butter and EggsOr like one that cries, Come buy my dainty fine pickled Cucumbers: No, no, I'm re folv'd to drefs put on all the Airs I can go abroad . abroad -fee fee and be seen take my Fill of Pleasure, and not be shut up in a Nunnery, to pine and figh, and walte my youthful Days in fruitless Wifhes: No, I'm not fo weary of my Life yet, tho' you do all you can to make me fo. And I would have you to know, tho you have forc'd me to wed my felf with old Age and ill Humours, I am not wedded to my Grave! -'tis time enough forty Years hence to think of that, and I have a great deal to do before that time comes; therefore I maft, and I will go abroad. Britt. Stir one Step if you dare (Spits in his Fift. If you go to that, I'll try who wears the Breeches, you or I. You shall ftay at home, and keep me Company; I'll spoil your going to Plays, your Appointments, and your Intriegues I'll make you know, that I am your Husband, and that you (hall do what I please. Slife, What's here to do! What, have you forgot your Marriage Vows already? Pray, who am I? Am I not your Husband? Are you not married to me? Mrs. Britt. No You forc'd me, I never gave you my Confent in Word or in Deed. Could you think I was in Love with Avarice, with Age and Impotence"? Britt. Give me Patience! How! How! Mrs. Britt. No, you bafely bought me of ther and Mother. Britt, Would I could fell thee again. my Fa Mrs. Britt. Like a Slave you bought me, and fo you intend to use me, were I Fool enough, but I'll fee you hang'd first. Britt. Why, what will your fweet Ladyship do? I bought you, you say? Mrs. Britt. Yes, Had you my Confent? or did you once ask it? Or if you had, my Affections were plac'd elsewhere, and fo they thall remain. In fpight of all your Threats and boasted Power! I'll not be us'd at this Rate! Britt. Good lack! Mrs. Britt. I that am a Gentlewoman, defcended from the worshipful Family of the Pride's by the Father's fide Britt. Ay, fo 'tis a fign by your Drefs. Pride's, quotha! Mrs. Britt. And a Gentlewoman defcended from the Honourable Family of the Laycock's by the Mother's fide. (She Cries. And to be us'd at this Rate by an old nafty Shopkeeper! I might have married a Merchant, and have kept my Glass Coach, my tall Footmen in fine Liveries, have gone abroad when I pleas'd without Controul, vifited Quality, nay, took Place of 'em at the Play-house, and met with Respect from the beft; and is it come to this? But I'll to my honourable Father and Mother, and tell 'em all, who, I'm fure, won't suffer their Daughter to be thus abus'd. (Cries fill. I cannot, nor will not endure it any longer. (Exit. Britt. This 'tis for a Tradefman to marry a Gentlewoman. A Curfe on fuch Gentility! What fhall I do? I fhall be damnably plagu'd with her Father and Mother. Well, next Month I must take up in Bedlam; a Judgment, which every Citizen deferves, that marries above his Quality. (Exit. ACT ACT III. SCENE, A Street before a Glafs-Shop. Enter Brittle Solus. WI muft incorporate with one above my Quali. What a Plague 'tis to be married! ty too, and not be content with fomething in my own Sphere, like one that had a Mind to live in Peace and Quietnefs, but nothing would ferve me but a Gentlewoman, altho I took her with never a Tatter to her Back, forfooth; and now, I think, I'm fitted with a Vengeance. Would I were but fairly rid of her, and her Gentility once, the Devil fhould, take all fuch Gentility before I'd ever concern my felf with it again. But who have we here? Enter Clodpole as out of Brittle's Houfe, looking about bim as afraid to be feen: Clod. Hush! Softly! Mum fees Ha, ha, ha No body No body fees! Softly!Ods my Life, who's that? Mum! Not a (Is ftealing off: Word. Britt. Friend, hift Friend-Pray stay a lit tle; What Business might you have in that Houfe ?. Clod. Wou'd you know now? Softly! Not a Word. Ha, ha, ha, you understand me. Britt. But you must know Clod. Yes, yes, I do know already, but am not fuch a Fool to tell you. You fhan't get a Word out of me. You understand me. not a Word. Britt. Yes, very well, but Clod. Softly! Britt. I know that; but who was you to speak with in that House? Clod. Softly! Can no body hear? For you must know, the old Cuckold of that House, they fay, is damnably given to be jealous; I would not for ne'er fo much he fhould fee me. Britt. No, no, I'll warrant you. Clod. His Wife's a main pretty fmirking Rogue, as a Man would wish to lay his Leg o'er. Softly! . Is no body coming? Britt. I'll warrant thee Prithee go on. Clod. What? you want to know all, do you? But I'll not truft you. Mum! not a Word. You understand me. Britt. Yes, yes, I understand you well enoughbut you may truft me, I fhan't fay a Word. Ha, ha, ha, Wou'd you, would you? But you fhall get nothing out of me. Clod. Why luck now! I'll warrant you'd have me tell you now, that I brought a Letter to the Gentlewoman of that HouseBritt. Hum! Clod. And that I deliver'd it to none but her felfas was order'd 'Britt. So. Clod. You understand me? Britt. Yes, yes, perfectly well. Clod. And that I ftay'd for an Answer Britt. Well, and I hope you got one? Clod. Mum! not a Syllable! no body must know ! If it should come to the Knowledge of the Cuckold her Husband, 'twill spoil all. Britt. Oh never fear. |