The Female Wits Part 9

Mr. _Pow._ Ay, Madam, I ha' been plagu'd with Questions too.

_Mars._ There's nothing gives me greater Fatigue than any one that talks much; Oh! 'Tis the superlative Plague of the Universe. Ump! This foolish Patch won't stick: Oh Lord! Don't go Mr. _Powell_, I have a World of things to say to you. [_Patching at her Gla.s.s._

Mr. _Pow._ The more's my Sorrow.

_Enter Mr._ Praiseall _and Mrs._ Knight.

_Mar._ How do you like my Play, Mr. _Powell_?

Mr. _Pow._ Extraordinary, Madam, 'tis like your Ladys.h.i.+p, at Miracle.

_Calis._ How civilly he treats her.

Mrs. _Wellf._ He treats her with what ought to be dispis'd, Flattery.

_Mars._ What was that you said? Some fine thing I dare swear? Well, I beg your Pardon a Thousand times: My Head was got to _Cataline_: Oh, Mr.

_Powell_, you shall be _Catiline_, not _Ben Johnson_'s Fool, but my _Cataline_, Mr. _Powell_.

Mr. _Pow._ I'd be a Dog to serve your Ladys.h.i.+p, as a Learned Author has it.

_Mar._ Oh my Jehu! What, no Body come?

Mrs. _Knight_. No Body, Madam! Why here's all the Players.

_Mar._ Granted, Mrs. _Knight_ and I have great Value for all the Players, and your self in particular; but give me leave to say, Mrs.

_Knight_, when I appear, I expect all that have any Concerns in the Play-house, shou'd give their Attendance, Knights, Squires, or however dignified, or distinguished.

Mrs. _Knight_. I beg your Pardon, Madam, if we poor Folks, without t.i.tles, cou'd have serv'd you, we are ready.

_Mar._ Mr. _Powell_! Mr. _Powell_! Pray stay by my Elbow. Lord! I don't use to ask a Man twice to stand by me.

Mr. _Pow._ Madam, I am here.

Mr. _Prais._ Ha! A rising Favourite, that may Eclipse my Glory; Madam, I have been taking true Pains to keep your Princes and Princesses together here.

_Mar._ Pray don't interrupt me, Mr. _Praiseall_, at this time. Mr.

_Powell_, I suppose you observe, throughout my Play, I make the Heroes, and Heroines in Love with those they shou'd not be.

Mr. _Pow._ Yes, Madam.

_Mar._ For look ye, if every Woman had lov'd her own Husband, there had been no Business for a Play.

Mr. _Pow._ But, Madam, won't the Critticks say, the Guilt of their Pa.s.sion takes off the Pity_?_

_Mar._ Oh, Mr. _Powell_, trouble not your self about the Criticks, I am provided for them, my Prologue cools their Courage I warrant 'em; han't you heard the Humour?

Mr. _Pow._ No, Madam.

_Mar._ I have two of your stoutest Men enter with long Truncheons.

Mr. _Pow._ Truncheons! Why Truncheons?

_Mar._ Because a Truncheon's like a Quarter-staff, has a mischievous Look with it, and a Critick is cursedly afraid of any thing that looks terrible.

Mr. _Prais._ Why, Madam, there are abundance of Critticks, and witty Men that are Soldiers.

_Mar._ Not one upon my Word, they are more Gentlemen, than to pretend to either, a Witty Man and a Soldier; you may as well say a modest Man, and a Courtier; Wit is always in the Civil Power, take my Word for it; Courage, and Honesty work hard for their Bread; Wit and Flattery feeds on Fools, and if they are counted Wise, who keep out of Harm's way, there's scarce a Fool now in the Kingdom.

Mr. _Prais._ Why, Madam, I have always took care to keep my self out of Harms Way, not that it is my Pretence to Wit, for I dare look Thunder in the Face, and if you think no Wit has Courage, what made you send for me?

Mr. _Pow._ Here's good Sport towards.

_Mar._ Because I have Occasion for nothing but Wit: I sent for you to vouch for mine, and not fight for your own. Mr. _Powell_, let us mind our Cause.

Mr. _Prais._ Damme, I dare fight!

_Mar._ Not with me, I hope: This is all Interruption by Heav'n!

Mr. _Prais._ 'Tis well there's not a Man a.s.serts your Cause. [_Walks about._

_Mar._ How Sir! Not a Man a.s.sert my Cause?

_Prais._ No, if there were, this Instant you should behold him weltring at your Feet.

Mr. _Pow._ Sir!

Mr. _Prais._ Hold! Honest _George_; I'll not do the Town such an Injury, to whip thee thro' the Guts.

_Mar._ Barbarous, not to endure the Jest the whole Audience must hear with patience.

_Enter Mr._ Aw'dwell.

Mr. _Aw'dw._ What's here Quarrelling? Come on; I thank Heav'n, I never was more inclin'd to Bloodshed in my Life.

Mr. _Prais._ This is my Evil Genius: I said I should have no Luck to Day----Mr. _Aw'dwell_, your very humble Servant, did you hear a Noise, as you came in? 'Twas I made the Noise, Mr. _Aw'dwell_, I'll tell you how 'twas.

_Aw'dw._ Do, for I am resolv'd to justifie the Lady.

Mr. _Prais._ Then you must know, I was trying to act one of _Marsillia's_ Heroes, a horrible bl.u.s.tring Fellow_!_ That made me so loud, Sir; now, says Mr. _Powell_, you do it awkerdly; whip says I, in answer like a Chollerick Fool, and out comes Poker, whether _George_ was out so soon I can't say.

Mr. _Pow._ How Sir_!_ my Sword in the Scabbard, and your's drawn!

Mr. _Prais._ Nay, nay, may be it was _George_, but now we are as good Friends as ever, witness this hearty Hug! (to _Mars._) Madam, I invented this Story to prevent your Rehearsals being interrupted.

_Mar._ I thank you Sir, your Cowardize has kept Quietness.

Mr. _Prais._ Your Servant Madam, I shall find a time.

Mr. _Aw'dw._ So shall I!