The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 63

_Let_. Alas, I heard, my _Bellmour_, thou wert dead.

_Bel_. And was it thus you mourn'd my Funeral?

_Let_. I will not justify my hated Crime: But Oh! remember I was poor and helpless, And much reduc'd, and much impos'd upon.

[Bellmour _weeps_.

_Bel_. And Want compell'd thee to this wretched Marriage--did it?

_Let_. 'Tis not a Marriage, since my _Bellmour_ lives; The Consummation were Adultery.

I was thy Wife before, wo't thou deny me?

_Bel_. No, by those Powers that heard our mutual Vows, Those Vows that tie us faster than dull Priests.

_Let_. But oh my _Bellmour_, thy sad Circ.u.mstances Permit thee not to make a publick Claim: Thou art proscribed, and diest if thou art seen.

_Bel_. Alas!

_Let_. Yet I wou'd wander with thee o'er the World, And share thy humblest Fortune with thy Love.

_Bel_. Is't possible, _Leticia_, thou wou'dst fly To foreign Sh.o.r.es with me?

_Let_. Can _Bellmour_ doubt the Soul he knows so well?

_Bel_. Perhaps in time the King may find my Innocence, and may extend his Mercy: Mean time I'll make provision for our Flight.

_Let_. But how 'twixt this and that can I defend My self from the loath'd Arms of an impatient Dotard, That I may come a spotless Maid to thee?

_Bel_. Thy native Modesty and my Industry Shall well enough secure us.

Feign your nice Virgin-Cautions all the day; Then trust at night to my Conduct to preserve thee.

--And wilt thou yet be mine? Oh, swear a-new, Give me again thy Faith, thy Vows, thy Soul; For mine's so sick with this Day's fatal Business, It needs a Cordial of that mighty strength; Swear--swear, so as if thou break'st-- Thou mayst be--any thing--but d.a.m.n'd, _Leticia_.

_Let_. Thus then, and hear me, Heaven! [_Kneels_.

_Bel_. And thus--I'll listen to thee. [_Kneels_.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble, _L_. Fulbank, _Sir_ Cautious.

Sir _Feeb_. _Lette, Lette, Lette_, where are you, little Rogue, _Lette_?

--Hah--hum--what's here--

_Bel_. s.n.a.t.c.hes her to his Bosom, as if she fainted.

_Bel_. Oh Heavens, she's gone, she's gone!

Sir _Feeb_. Gone--whither is she gone?--it seems she had the Wit to take good Company with her--

[_The Women go to her, take her up_.

_Bel_. She's gone to Heaven, Sir, for ought I know.

Sir _Cau_. She was resolv'd to go in a young Fellow's Arms, I see.

Sir _Feeb_. Go to, _Francis_--go to.

L. _Ful_. Stand back, Sir, she recovers.

_Bel_. Alas, I found her dead upon the Floor, --Shou'd I have left her so--if I had known your mind--

Sir _Feeb_. Was it so--was it so?--Got so, by no means, _Francis_.--

_Let_. Pardon him, Sir, for surely I had died, Bur for his timely coming.

Sir _Feeb_. Alas, poor Pupsey--was it sick--look here--here's a fine thing to make it well again. Come, buss, and it shall have it--oh, how I long for Night. _Ralph_, are the Fidlers ready?

_Ral_. They are tuning in the Hall, Sir.

Sir _Feeb_. That's well, they know my mind. I hate that same tw.a.n.g, tw.a.n.g, tw.a.n.g, fum, fum, fum, tweedle, tweedle, tweedle, then scrue go the Pins, till a man's Teeth are on an edge; then snap, says a small Gut, and there we are at a loss again. I long to be in bed with a--hey tredodle, tredodle, tredodle,--with a hay tredool, tredodle, tredo-- [_Dancing and playing on his Stick like a Flute_.

Sir _Cau_. A prudent Man would reserve himself--Good-facks, I danc'd so on my Wedding-day, that when I came to Bed, to my Shame be it spoken, I fell fast asleep, and slept till morning.

L. _Ful_. Where was your Wisdom then, Sir _Cautious_? But I know what a wise Woman ought to have done.

Sir _Feeb_. Odsbobs, that's Wormwood, that's Wormwood--I shall have my young Hussey set a-gog too; she'll hear there are better things in the World than she has at home, and then odsbobs, and then they'll ha't, adod, they will, Sir _Cautious_. Ever while you live, keep a Wife ignorant, unless a Man be as brisk as his Neighbours.

Sir _Cau_. A wise Man will keep 'em from baudy Christnings then, and Gossipings.

Sir _Feeb_. Christnings and Gossipings! why, they are the very Schools that debauch our Wives, as Dancing-Schools do our Daughters.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, when the overjoy'd good Man invites 'em all against that time Twelve-month: Oh, he's a dear Man, cries one--I must marry, cries another, here's a Man indeed--my Husband--G.o.d help him--

Sir _Feeb_. Then he falls to telling of her Grievance, till (half maudlin) she weeps again: Just my Condition, cries a third: so the Frolick goes round, and we poor Cuckolds are anatomiz'd, and turn'd the right side outwards; adsbobs, we are, Sir _Cautious_.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, this Grievance ought to be redrest, Sir _Feeble_; the grave and sober part o'th' Nation are hereby ridicul'd,--Ay, and cuckolded too for ought I know.

L. _Ful_. Wise Men knowing this, should not expose their Infirmities, by marrying us young Wenches; who, without Instruction, find how we are impos'd upon.

_Enter Fiddles playing, Mr_. Bearjest _and_ Diana _dancing_; Bredwel, Noisey, &c.

L. _Ful_. So, Cousin, I see you have found the way to Mrs. _Dy's_ Heart.

_Bea_. Who, I, my dear Lady Aunt? I never knew but one way to a Woman's Heart, and that road I have not yet travelled; for my Uncle, who is a wise Man, says Matrimony is a sort of a--kind of a--as it were, d'ye see, of a Voyage, which every Man of Fortune is bound to make one time or other: and Madam--I am, as it were--a bold Adventurer.

_Dia_. And are you sure, Sir, you will venture on me?

_Bea_. Sure!--I thank you for that--as if I could not believe my Uncle; For in this case a young Heir has no more to do, but to come and see, settle, marry, and use you scurvily.

_Dia_. How, Sir, scurvily?