The Comedies of William Congreve Part 51

LORD FROTH. How?

SIR PAUL. Nay, only about poetry, I suppose, my lord; making couplets.

LORD FROTH. Couplets.

SIR PAUL. Oh, here they come.

SCENE XXI.

[_To them_] LADY FROTH, BRISK.

BRISK. My lord, your humble servant; Sir Paul, yours,--the finest night!

LADY FROTH. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been star-gazing, I don't know how long.

SIR PAUL. Does it not tire your ladyship? Are not you weary with looking up?

LADY FROTH. Oh, no, I love it violently. My dear, you're melancholy.

LORD FROTH. No, my dear; I'm but just awake.

LADY FROTH. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.

LORD FROTH. I've some of my own, thank you, dear.

LADY FROTH. Well, I swear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an old Egyptian.

BRISK. Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia of the skies, and queen of stars.

LADY FROTH. That's because I have no light but what's by reflection from you, who are the sun.

BRISK. Madam, you have eclipsed me quite, let me perish. I can't answer that.

LADY FROTH. No matter. Hark 'ee, shall you and I make an almanac together?

BRISK. With all my soul. Your ladyship has made me the man in't already, I'm so full of the wounds which you have given.

LADY FROTH. O finely taken! I swear now you are even with me. O Parna.s.sus, you have an infinite deal of wit.

SIR PAUL. So he has, gads-bud, and so has your ladyship.

SCENE XXII.

[_To them_] LADY PLYANT, CARELESS, CYNTHIA.

LADY PLYANT. You tell me most surprising things; bless me, who would ever trust a man? Oh my heart aches for fear they should be all deceitful alike.

CARE. You need not fear, madam, you have charms to fix inconstancy itself.

LADY PLYANT. O dear, you make me blush.

LORD FROTH. Come, my dear, shall we take leave of my lord and lady?

CYNT. They'll wait upon your lordship presently.

LADY FROTH. Mr. Brisk, my coach shall set you down.

ALL. What's the matter? [_A great shriek from the corner of the stage_.]

SCENE XXIII.

[_To them_] LADY TOUCHWOOD _runs out affrighted_, _my lord after her_, _like a parson_.

LADY TOUCH. Oh, I'm betrayed. Save me, help me!

LORD TOUCH. Now what evasion, strumpet?

LADY TOUCH. Stand off, let me go.

LORD TOUCH. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee. You stare as you were all amazed,--I don't wonder at it,--but too soon you'll know mine, and that woman's shame.

SCENE the last.

LORD TOUCHWOOD, LORD FROTH, LADY FROTH, LADY PLYANT, SIR PAUL, CYNTHIA, MELLEFONT, MASKWELL, MELLEFONT _disguised in a parson's habit and pulling in_ MASKWELL.

MEL. Nay, by heaven you shall be seen. Careless, your hand. Do you hold down your head? Yes, I am your chaplain, look in the face of your injured friend; thou wonder of all falsehood.

LORD TOUCH. Are you silent, monster?

MEL. Good heavens! How I believed and loved this man! Take him hence, for he's a disease to my sight.

LORD TOUCH. Secure that manifold villain. [_Servants seize him_.]

CARE. Miracle of ingrat.i.tude!

BRISK. This is all very surprising, let me perish.

LADY FROTH. You know I told you Saturn looked a little more angry than usual.

LORD TOUCH. We'll think of punishment at leisure, but let me hasten to do justice in rewarding virtue and wronged innocence. Nephew, I hope I have your pardon, and Cynthia's.