The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 58

_Beau._ Forgive me; oh so very well I love, Did I not know that thou hadst been a Wh.o.r.e, I'd give thee the last proof of Love-- and marry thee.

_Will._ The last indeed-- for there's an end of Loving; Do, marry him, and be curst by all his Family: Marry him, and ruin him, that he may curse thee too.

--But hark ye, Friend, this is not fair; 'tis drawing Sharps on a Man that's only arm'd with the defensive Cudgel, I'm for no such dead doing Arguments; if thou art for me, Child, it must be without the folly, for better for worse; there's a kind of Nonsense in that Vow Fools only swallow.

_La Nu._ But when I've worn out all my Youth and Beauty, and suffer'd every ill of Poverty, I shall be compell'd to begin the World again without a Stock to set up with. No faith, I'm for a substantial Merchant in Love, who can repay the loss of Time and Beauty; with whom to make one thriving Voyage sets me up for ever, and I need never put to Sea again.

[Comes to _Beau._

_Beau._ Nor be expos'd to Storms of Poverty, the _Indies_ shall come to thee-- See here-- this is the Merchandize my Love affords.

[Gives her a Pearl, and Pendants of Diamond.

_La Nu._ Look ye, Sir, will not these Pearls do better round my Neck, than those kind Arms of yours? these Pendants in my Ears, than all the Tales of Love you can whisper there?

_Will._ So-- I am deceiv'd-- deal on for Trash-- and barter all thy Joys of Life for Baubles-- this Night presents me one Adventure more-- I'll try thee once again, inconstant Fortune; and if thou fail'st me then-- I will forswear thee [Aside.] Death, hadst thou lov'd my Friend for his own Value, I had esteem'd thee; but when his Youth and Beauty cou'd not plead, to be the mercenary Conquest of his Presents, was poor, below thy Wit: I cou'd have conquer'd so, but I scorn thee at that rate-- my Purse shall never be my Pimp-- Farewel, _Harry_.

_Beau._ Thou'st sham'd me out of Folly-- stay--

_Will._ Faith-- I have an a.s.signation with a Woman-- a Woman Friend!

young as the infant-day, and sweet as Roses e'er the Morning Sun have kiss'd their Dew away. She will not ask me Money neither.

_La Nu._ Hah! stay-- [Holds him, and looks on him.

_Beau._ She loves him, and her Eyes betray her Heart.

_Will._ I am not for your turn, Child-- Death, I shall lose my Mistress fooling here-- I must be gone.

[She holds him, he shakes his Head and sings.

_No, no, I will not hire your Bed, Nor Tenant to your Favours be; I will not farm your White and Red, You shall not let your Love to me: I court a Mistress-- not a Landlady._ [bis.

_Beau._ He's in the right; and shall I waste my Youth and powerful Fortune on one who all this while has jilted me, seeing I was a lavish loving Fool?-- No-- this Soul and Body shall not be divided-- [Gives her to _Will._

_Will._ I am so much thy Friend, another time I might be drawn to take a bad Bargain off thy Hands-- but I have other Business at present: wo't do a kind thing, _Harry_,-- lend me thy Aid to carry off my Woman to night? 'tis hard by in the Piazza, perhaps we may find Resistance.

_Beau._ My self and Sword are yours. I have a Chair waits below too, may do you Service.

_Will._ I thank ye-- Madam-- your Servant.

_La Nu._ Left by both!

_Beau._ You see our Affairs are pressing.

[Bows, and smiles carelesly. Ex. _Will._ singing, and _Beau._

_La Nu._ Gone! where's all your Power, ye poor deluded Eyes? Curse on your feeble Fires, that cannot warm a Heart which every common Beauty kindles. Oh-- he is gone for ever.

Enter _Petronella_.

_Pet._ Yes, he is gone, to your eternal Ruin: not all the Race of Men cou'd have produc'd so bountiful and credulous a Fool.

_La Nu._ No, never; fetch him back, my _Petronella_: Bring me my wild Inconstant, or I die-- [Puts her out.

_Pet._ The Devil fetch him back for _Petronella_, is't he you mean?

you've had too much of him; a Curse upon him, he'as ruin'd you.

_La Nu._ He has, he shall, he must compleat my ruin.

_Pet._ She raves, the Rogue has given her a _Spanish_ Philtre.

_La Nu._ My Coach, my Veil-- or let 'em all alone; undrest thus loosely to the Winds commit me to darkness, and no Guide but pitying _Cupid_.

[Going out, _Pet._ holds her.

_Pet._ What, are you mad?

_La Nu._ As Winds let loose, or Storms when they rage high.

[Goes out.

_Pet._ She's lost, and I'll s.h.i.+ft for my self, seize all her Money and Jewels, of which I have the Keys; and if Seignior Mountebank keeps his Word, be transform'd to Youth and Beauty again, and undo this _La Nuche_ at her own Trade-- [Goes in.

SCENE II. _The Street._

Enter _Willmore_, _Beaumond_, Chair following.

_Will._ Set down the Chair; you're now within call, I'll to the Garden-Door, and see if any Lady Bright appear-- Dear _Beaumond_, stay here a minute, and if I find occasion, I'll give you the Word.

_Beau._ 'Tis hard by my Lodgings; if you want Conveniences, I have the Key of the Back-way through the Garden, whither you may carry your Mistress. _Will._ I thank thee-- let me first secure my Woman.

[Goes out.

_Beau._ I thought I'd lov'd this false, this jilting Fair, even above my Friends.h.i.+p; but I find I can forgive this Rogue, tho I am sure he has rob'd me of my Joys.

Enter _Ariadne_ with a Casket of Jewels.

_Aria._ Not yet! a Devil on him, he's Dear-hearting it with some other kind Damsel-- Faith,'tis most wickedly done of me to venture my Body with a mad unknown Fellow. Thus a little more Delay will put me into a serious Consideration, and I shall e'en go home again, sleep and be sober.

[She walks about.

_Beau._ Hah, a Woman! Perhaps the same he looks for-- I'll counterfeit his Voice and try my Chance-- Fortune may set us even.

_Aria._ Hah, is not that a Man? Yes-- and a Chair waiting.

[She peeps.

_Beau._ Who's there?

_Aria._ A Maid.

_Beau._ A Miracle-- Oh art thou come, Child?

_Aria._ 'Tis he, you are a civil Captain, are you not, to make a longing Maid expect thus? What Woman has detain'd you?

_Beau._ Faith, my Dear, tho Flesh and Blood be frail, yet the dear Hopes of thee has made me hold out with a Herculean Courage-- Stay, where shall I carry her? not to my own Apartment; _Ariadne_ may surprize me: I'll to the Mountebank here i'th' Piazza, he has a Cure for all things, even for longing Love, and for a Pistole or two will do Reason.-- Hah, Company: Here, step into this Chair.

[She goes in, they go off just as _Will._ enters.