The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 15

_Blunt._ 'Sheartlikins, thou'rt a fortunate Rogue.

_Will._ I am so, Sir, let these inform you.-- Ha, how sweetly they chime! Pox of Poverty, it makes a Man a Slave, makes Wit and Honour sneak, my Soul grew lean and rusty for want of Credit.

_Blunt._ 'Sheartlikins, this I like well, it looks like my lucky Bargain! Oh how I long for the Approach of my Squire, that is to conduct me to her House again. Why! here's two provided for.

_Fred._ By this light y're happy Men.

_Blunt._ Fortune is pleased to smile on us, Gentlemen,-- to smile on us.

Enter _Sancho_, and pulls _Blunt_ by the Sleeve. They go aside.

_Sancho._ Sir, my Lady expects you-- she has remov'd all that might oppose your Will and Pleasure-- and is impatient till you come.

_Blunt._ Sir, I'll attend you-- Oh the happiest Rogue! I'll take no leave, lest they either dog me, or stay me.

[Ex. with _Sancho_.

_Belv._ But then the little Gipsy is forgot?

_Will._ A Mischief on thee for putting her into my thoughts; I had quite forgot her else, and this Night's Debauch had drunk her quite down.

_h.e.l.l._ Had it so, good Captain? [Claps him on the Back.

_Will._ Ha! I hope she did not hear.

_h.e.l.l._ What, afraid of such a Champion!

_Will._ Oh! you're a fine Lady of your word, are you not? to make a Man languish a whole day--

_h.e.l.l._ In tedious search of me.

_Will._ Egad, Child, thou'rt in the right, hadst thou seen what a melancholy Dog I have been ever since I was a Lover, how I have walkt the Streets like a _Capuchin_, with my Hands in my Sleeves-- Faith, Sweetheart, thou wouldst pity me.

_h.e.l.l._ Now, if I should be hang'd, I can't be angry with him, he dissembles so heartily-- Alas, good Captain, what pains you have taken-- Now were I ungrateful not to reward so true a Servant.

_Will._ Poor Soul! that's kindly said, I see thou bearest a Conscience-- come then for a beginning shew me thy dear Face.

_h.e.l.l._ I'm afraid, my small Acquaintance, you have been staying that swinging stomach you boasted of this morning; I remember then my little Collation would have gone down with you, without the Sauce of a handsom Face-- Is your Stomach so quesy now?

_Will._ Faith long fasting, Child, spoils a Man's Appet.i.te-- yet if you durst treat, I could so lay about me still.

_h.e.l.l._ And would you fall to, before a Priest says Grace?

_Will._ Oh fie, fie, what an old out-of-fashion'd thing hast thou nam'd?

Thou could'st not dash me more out of Countenance, shouldst thou shew me an ugly Face.

_Whilst he is seemingly courting _h.e.l.lena_, enter _Angelica_, _Moretta_, _Biskey_, and _Sebastian_, all in Masquerade: _Ang._ sees _Will._ and starts._

_Ang._ Heavens, is't he? and pa.s.sionately fond to see another Woman?

_Moret._ What cou'd you expect less from such a Swaggerer?

_Ang._ Expect! as much as I paid him, a Heart intire, Which I had pride enough to think when e'er I gave It would have rais'd the Man above the Vulgar, Made him all Soul, and that all soft and constant.

_h.e.l.l._ You see, Captain, how willing I am to be Friends with you, till Time and Ill-luck make us Lovers; and ask you the Question first, rather than put your Modesty to the blush, by asking me: for alas, I know you Captains are such strict Men, severe Observers of your Vows to Chast.i.ty, that 'twill be hard to prevail with your tender Conscience to marry a young willing Maid.

_Will._ Do not abuse me, for fear I should take thee at thy word, and marry thee indeed, which I'm sure will be Revenge sufficient.

_h.e.l.l._ O' my Conscience, that will be our Destiny, because we are both of one humour; I am as inconstant as you, for I have considered, Captain, that a handsom Woman has a great deal to do whilst her Face is good, for then is our Harvest-time to gather Friends; and should I in these days of my Youth, catch a fit of foolish Constancy, I were undone; 'tis loitering by day-light in our great Journey: therefore declare, I'll allow but one year for Love, one year for Indifference, and one year for Hate-- and then-- go hang your self-- for I profess myself the gay, the kind, and the inconstant-- the Devil's in't if this won't please you.

_Will._ Oh most d.a.m.nably!-- I have a Heart with a hole quite thro it too, no Prison like mine to keep a Mistress in.

_Ang._ Perjur'd Man! how I believe thee now! [Aside.

_h.e.l.l._ Well, I see our Business as well as Humours are alike, yours to cozen as many Maids as will trust you, and I as many Men as have Faith-- See if I have not as desperate a lying look, as you can have for the heart of you.

[Pulls off her Vizard; he starts.

--How do you like it, Captain?

_Will._ Like it! by Heav'n, I never saw so much Beauty. Oh the Charms of those sprightly black Eyes, that strangely fair Face, full of Smiles and Dimples! those soft round melting cherry Lips! and small even white Teeth! not to be exprest, but silently adored!-- Oh one Look more, and strike me dumb, or I shall repeat nothing else till I am mad.

[He seems to court her to pull off her Vizard: she refuses.

_Ang._ I can endure no more-- nor is it fit to interrupt him; for if I do, my Jealousy has so destroy'd my Reason,-- I shall undo him-- Therefore I'll retire. And you _Sebastian_ [To one of her Bravoes]

follow that Woman, and learn who 'tis; while you tell the Fugitive, I would speak to him instantly.

[To the other Bravo.

[Exit.

[This while _Flor._ is talking to _Belvile_, who stands sullenly.

_Fred._ courting Valeria.

_Val._ Prithee, dear Stranger, be not so sullen; for tho you have lost your Love, you see my Friend frankly offers you hers, to play with in the mean time.

_Belv._ Faith, Madam, I am sorry I can't play at her Game.

_Fred._ Pray leave your Intercession, and mind your own Affair, they'll better agree apart; he's a model Sigher in Company, but alone no Woman escapes him.

_Flor._ Sure he does but rally-- yet if it should be true-- I'll tempt him farther-- Believe me, n.o.ble Stranger, I'm no common Mistress-- and for a little proof on't-- wear this Jewel-- nay, take it, Sir, 'tis right, and Bills of Exchange may sometimes miscarry.

_Belv._ Madam, why am I chose out of all Mankind to be the Object of your Bounty?

_Val._ There's another civil Question askt.

_Fred._ Pox of's Modesty, it spoils his own Markets, and hinders mine.

_Flor._ Sir, from my Window I have often seen you; and Women of Quality have so few opportunities for Love, that we ought to lose none.

_Fred._ Ay, this is something! here's a Woman!-- When shall I be blest with so much kindness from your fair Mouth?-- Take the Jewel, Fool.

[Aside to _Belv._

_Belv._ You tempt me strangely, Madam, every way.