The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 61

[_Ex. Sir_ Char, _and Sir_ Anth.

L. _Gal_. See if my Coach be ready.

[_Ex_. CIos.

_Wild_. Whether are you janting now?

L. _Gal_. Where you dare not wait on me, to your Uncle's to Supper.

_Wild_. That Uncle of mine pimps for all the Sparks of his Party; There they all meet and bargain without Scandal: Fops of all sorts and sizes you may chuse, Whig-land offers not such another Market.

_Enter_ Closet.

_Clos_. Madam, here's Sir _Timothy Treat-all_ come to wait on your Ladys.h.i.+p to Supper.

_Wild_. My Uncle! Oh, d.a.m.n him, he was born to be my Plague: not-- Disinheriting me had not been so great a Disappointment; and if he sees me here, I ruin all the Plots I've laid for him. Ha, he's here.

_Enter Sir_ Tim.

Sir _Tim_. How, my Nephew Thomas here!

_Wild_. Madam, I find you can be cruel too, Knowing my Uncle has abandon'd me.

Sir _Tim_. How now, Sir, what's your Business here?

_Wild_. I came to beg a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_, Sir, knowing her Power and Quality here in the City.

Sir _Tim_. How a Favour of my Lady _Galliard_! The Rogue said indeed he would cuckold me. [_Aside_.] Why, Sir, I thought you had been taken up with your rich Heiress?

_Wild_. That was my Business now, Sir: Having in my possession the Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, I would have made use of the Authority of my Lady _Galliard's_ House to have secur'd her, till I got things in order for our Marriage; but my Lady, to put me off, cries I have an Uncle.

L. _Gal_. A well contrived Lye. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Well, I have heard of your good Fortune; and however a Reprobate thou hast been, I'll not shew my self so undutiful an Uncle, as not to give the Gentlewoman a little House-room: I heard indeed she was gone a week ago, And, Sir, my House is at your Service.

_Wild_. I humbly thank you, Sir. Madam, your Servant. A pox upon him and his a.s.sociation.

[_Goes out_.

Sir _Tim_. Come, Madam, my Coach waits below.

[_Exit_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy Treat-all, _and_ Jervice.

Sir _Tim_. Here, take my Sword, _Jervice_. What have you inquir'd, as I directed you, concerning the rich Heiress, Sir _Nicholas Get-all's_ Daughter?

_Jer_. Alas, Sir, inquir'd! why, 'tis all the City-News that she's run away with one of the maddest Tories about Town.

Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Ay, ay, 'tis so; the plaguy Rogue my Nephew has got her. That Heaven shou'd drop such Blessings in the Mouths of the wicked!

Well, _Jervice_, what Company have we in the House, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Why, truly, Sir, a fine deal, considering there's no Parliament.

Sir _Tim_. What Lords have we, _Jervice_?

_Jer_. Lords, Sir, truly none.

Sir _Tim_. None! what, ne'er a Lord! some mishap will befall me, some dire mischance! Ne'er a Lord! ominous, ominous! our Party dwindles daily.

What, nor Earl, nor Marquess, nor Duke, nor ne'er a Lord! Hum, my Wine will lie most villanously upon my Hands to Night. _Jervice_, what, have we store of Knights and Gentlemen?

_Jer_. I know not what Gentlemen there be, Sir; but there are Knights, Citizens, their Wives and Daughters.

Sir _Tim_. Make us thankful for that; our Meat will not lie upon our Hands then, _Jervice_: I'll say that for our little Londoners, they are as tall Fellows at a well-charg'd Board as any in Christendom.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Nonconformist-Parsons.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, then we shall have a clear Board; for your true Protestant Appet.i.te in a Lay-Elder, does a Man's Table Credit.

_Jer_. Then, Sir, there's Country Justices and Grand-Jury-Men.

Sir _Tim_. Well enough, well enough, _Jervice_.

_Enter Mrs_. Sensure.

_Sen_. An't like your Wors.h.i.+p, Mr. _Wilding_ is come in with a Lady richly drest in Jewels, mask'd, in his Hand, and will not be deny'd speaking with your Wors.h.i.+p.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, rich in Jewels! this must be she. My Sword again, _Jervice_.--Bring 'em up, _Sensure_.--Prithee how do I look to Night, _Jervice_?

[_Setting himself_.

_Jer_. Oh, most methodically, Sir.

_Enter_ Wild, _with_ Diana, _and_ Betty.

_Wild_. Sir, I have brought into your kind protection the richest Jewel all London can afford, fair Mrs. _Charlot Gett-all_.

Sir _Tim_. Bless us, she's ravis.h.i.+ng fair! Lady, I had the honour of being intimate with your worthy Father. I think he has been dead--

_Dia_. If he catechize me much on that point, I shall spoil all.

[_Aside_.

Alas, Sir, name him not; for if you do, [_weeping_.

I'm sure I cannot answer you one Question.

_Wild_. For Heaven sake, Sir, name not her Father to her; the bare remembrance of him kills her. [_Aside to him_.