The Comedies of William Congreve Part 47

SCENE V.

[_To him_] MELLEFONT.

MEL. O Maskwell, what hopes? I am confounded in a maze of thoughts, each leading into one another, and all ending in perplexity. My uncle will not see nor hear me.

MASK. No matter, sir, don't trouble your head: all's in my power.

MEL. How? For heaven's sake?

MASK. Little do you think that your aunt has kept her word. How the devil she wrought my lord into this dotage, I know not; but he's gone to Sir Paul about my marriage with Cynthia, and has appointed me his heir.

MEL. The devil he has! What's to be done?

MASK. I have it, it must be by stratagem; for it's in vain to make application to him. I think I have that in my head that cannot fail.

Where's Cynthia?

MEL. In the garden.

MASK. Let us go and consult her: my life for yours, I cheat my lord.

SCENE VI.

LORD TOUCHWOOD, LADY TOUCHWOOD.

LADY TOUCH. Maskwell your heir, and marry Cynthia!

LORD TOUCH. I cannot do too much for so much merit.

LADY TOUCH. But this is a thing of too great moment to be so suddenly resolved. Why Cynthia? Why must he be married? Is there not reward enough in raising his low fortune, but he must mix his blood with mine, and wed my niece? How know you that my brother will consent, or she?

Nay, he himself perhaps may have affections otherwhere.

LORD TOUCH. No, I am convinced he loves her.

LADY TOUCH. Maskwell love Cynthia? Impossible!

LORD TOUCH. I tell you he confessed it to me.

LADY TOUCH. Confusion! How's this? [_Aside_.]

LORD TOUCH. His humility long stifled his pa.s.sion. And his love of Mellefont would have made him still conceal it. But by encouragement, I wrung the secret from him, and know he's no way to be rewarded but in her. I'll defer my farther proceedings in it till you have considered it; but remember how we are both indebted to him.

SCENE VII.

LADY TOUCHWOOD _alone_.

LADY TOUCH. Both indebted to him! Yes, we are both indebted to him, if you knew all. Villain! Oh, I am wild with this surprise of treachery: it is impossible, it cannot be. He love Cynthia! What, have I been bawd to his designs, his property only, a baiting place? Now I see what made him false to Mellefont. Shame and distraction! I cannot bear it, oh!

what woman can bear to be a property? To be kindled to a flame, only to light him to another's arms; oh! that I were fire indeed that I might burn the vile traitor. What shall I do? How shall I think? I cannot think. All my designs are lost, my love unsated, my revenge unfinished, and fresh cause of fury from unthought of plagues.

SCENE VIII.

[_To her_] SIR PAUL.

SIR PAUL. Madam, sister, my lady sister, did you see my lady my wife?

LADY TOUCH. Oh! Torture!

SIR PAUL. Gads-bud, I can't find her high nor low; where can she be, think you?

LADY TOUCH. Where she's serving you, as all your s.e.x ought to be served, making you a beast. Don't you know you're a fool, brother?

SIR PAUL. A fool; he, he, he, you're merry. No, no, not I, I know no such matter.

LADY TOUCH. Why, then, you don't know half your happiness.

SIR PAUL. That's a jest with all my heart, faith and troth. But harkee, my lord told me something of a revolution of things; I don't know what to make on't. Gads-bud, I must consult my wife:--he talks of disinheriting his nephew, and I don't know what. Look you, sister, I must know what my girl has to trust to, or not a syllable of a wedding, gads-bud!--to show you that I am not a fool.

LADY TOUCH. Hear me: consent to the breaking off this marriage, and the promoting any other without consulting me, and I'll renounce all blood, all relation and concern with you for ever; nay, I'll be your enemy, and pursue you to destruction: I'll tear your eyes out, and tread you under my feet.

SIR PAUL. Why, what's the matter now? Good Lord, what's all this for?

Pooh, here's a joke indeed. Why, where's my wife?

LADY TOUCH. With Careless, in the close arbour; he may want you by this time, as much as you want her.

SIR PAUL. Oh, if she be with Mr. Careless, 'tis well enough.

LADY TOUCH. Fool, sot, insensible ox! But remember what I said to you, or you had better eat your own horns, by this light you had.

SIR PAUL. You're a pa.s.sionate woman, gads-bud! But to say truth all our family are choleric; I am the only peaceable person amongst 'em.

SCENE IX.

MELLEFONT, MASKWELL, _and_ CYNTHIA.

MEL. I know no other way but this he has proposed: if you have love enough to run the venture.

CYNT. I don't know whether I have love enough, but I find I have obstinacy enough to pursue whatever I have once resolved; and a true female courage to oppose anything that resists my will, though 'twere reason itself.

MASK. That's right. Well, I'll secure the writings and run the hazard along with you.