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Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head, may prove to thy Advantage.
_Char._ Ha, does he Relent?
Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce thee for nothing.
_Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye.
Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir.
_Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty, Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag.
Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing with you.
_Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose better for your self, I find.
Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my Marriage, Sirrah.
_Char._ Sir, I obey: But--
Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without Reply.
(_Exit _Char_._
_Enter Servant._
_Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir.
_Enter _Marplot_ Running._
_Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian?
Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him.
_Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now.
I shall certainly lose this Secret.
(_Exit, hastily._
Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool: Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an a.s.s already.
_Enter Sir _George_._
Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_c.h.i.n.ks them._) Ha, ha, ha.
Sir _Geo._ Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir _Francis_: Therefore be brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post--if she's a Woman, and, not seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his Heart ake; for if she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll vary a Thousand Shapes, but find it.
(_Aside._
_Enter _Mirand_._
Sir _Fran._ Agreed--_Miranda._ There Sir _George_, try your Fortune, (_Takes out his Watch._)
Sir _Geo._ So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun, Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below.
(_Salutes her._
Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement.
Sir _Geo._ Oh! That's by way of Prologue:--Prithee, Old Mammon, to thy Post.
Sir _Fran._ Well, young _Timon_, 'tis now 4 exactly; one Hour, remember is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more.
(_Retires to the bottom of the Stage._
Sir _Geo._ Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the Author of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the Life of your Admirer; your sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love; your Vivacity a Soul too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd Mortality.
_Miran._ (_Aside._) Oh, that I durst speak--
Sir _Geo._ Shake off this Tyrant _Guardian_'s Yoke, a.s.sume your self, and dash his bold aspiring Hopes; the Deity of his Desires, is Avarice; a Heretick in Love, and ought to be banish'd by the Queen of Beauty.
See, Madam, a faithful Servant kneels and begs to be admitted in the Number of your Slaves.
(Miranda _gives him her Hand to Raise him._
Sir _Fran._ I wish I cou'd hear what he says now. (_Running up._) Hold, hold, hold, no Palming, that's contrary to Articles--
Sir _Geo._ Death, Sir, Keep your Distance, or I'll write another Article in your Guts.
(_Lays his Hand to his Sword._
Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) A b.l.o.o.d.y-minded Fellow!--
Sir _Geo._ Not Answer me! Perhaps she thinks my Address too Grave: I'll be more free--Can you be so Unconscionable, Madam, to let me say all these fine things to you without one single Compliment in Return? View me well, am I not a proper Handsome Fellow, ha? Can you prefer that old, dry, wither'd, sapless Log of Sixty-five, to the vigorous, gay, sprightly Love of Twenty-four? With Snoring only he'll awake thee, but I with Ravishing Delight wou'd make thy Senses Dance in Consort with the Joyful Minutes--ha? not yet, sure she is Dumb--Thus wou'd I steal and touch thy Beauteous Hand, (_Takes bold of her Hand_) till by degrees I reach'd thy snowy b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then Ravish Kisses thus, (_Embraces her in Extasie._
_Miran._ (_Strugles and flings from him._) Oh Heavens! I shall not be able to contain my self.
(_Aside._
Sir _Fran._ (_Running up with his Watch in his Hand._) Sure she did not speak to him--There's Three Quarters of the Hour gone, Sir _George_--Adod, I don't like those close Conferences--
Sir _Geo._ More Interruptions--You will have it, Sir.
(_Lays his Hand to his Sword._
Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) No, no, you shan't have her neither.
(_Aside._
Sir _Geo._ Dumb still--sure this old Dog has enjoyn'd her Silence; I'll try another way--I must conclude, Madam, that in Compliance to your Guardian's Humour, you refuse to answer me--Consider the Injustice of his Injunction. This single Hour cost me a Hundred Pound--and wou'd you answer me, I cou'd purchase the 24 so: However, Madam, you must give me leave to make the best Interpretation I can for my Money, and take the Indication of your Silence for the secret Liking of my Person: Therefore, Madam, I will instruct you how to keep your Word inviolate to Sir _Francis_, and yet Answer me to every Question: As for Example, When I ask any thing, to which you wou'd Reply in the Affirmative, gently Nod your Head--thus; and when in the Negative thus; (_(Shakes his Head_.) and in the doubtful a tender Sigh, thus (_Sighs._
_Miran._ How every Action charms me--but I'll fit him for Signs I warrant him.
(_Aside._
Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, ha.
(_Aside._
Sir _Geo._ Was it by his desire that you are Dumb, Madam, to all that I can say?
_Miran._ (_Nods._)