The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 128

_Doct_. No wonder, Sir, Oh happy great _Gonzales_!

_Char_. Your Virtue, Sir, will render you as happy--but I must haste-- this Night prepare your Daughter and your Niece, and let your House be dress'd, perfum'd, and clean.

_Doct_. It shall be all perform'd, Sir.

_Char_. Be modest, Sir, and humble in your Elevation; for nothing shews the Wit so poor, as Wonder, nor Birth so mean, as Pride.

_Doct_. I humbly thank your Admonition, Sir, and shall, in all I can, struggle with human Frailty.

[_Brings_ Char. _to the Door bare. Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Scaramouch, _peeping at the other Door_.

_Scar_. So, so, all things go gloriously forward, but my own Amour, and there is no convincing this obstinate Woman, that 'twas that Rogue _Harlequin_ in Disguise, claim'd me; so that I cannot so much as come to deliver the young Ladies their Letters from their Lovers. I must get in with this d.a.m.n'd Mistress of mine, or all our Plot will be spoil'd for want of Intelligence.

--Hum, the Devil does not use to fail me at a dead Lift. I must deliver these Letters, and I must have this Wench--though but to be reveng'd on her for abusing me--Let me see--she is resolv'd for the Apothecary or the Farmer. Well, say no more, honest _Scaramouch_; thou shalt find a Friend at need of me--and if I do not fit you with a Spouse, say that a Woman has out-witted me.

[_Exit_.

_The End of the Second Act_.

ACT III.

SCENE I. _The Street, with the Town-Gate, where an Officer stands with a Staff like a_ London _Constable_.

_Enter_ Harlequin _riding in a Calash, comes through the Gate towards the Stage, dress'd like a Gentleman sitting in it. The_ Officer _lays hold of his Horse_.

_Off_. Hold, hold, Sir, you I suppose know the Customs that are due to this City of _Naples_, from all Persons that pa.s.s the Gates in Coach, Chariot, Calash, or _Siege Volant_.

_Har_. I am not ignorant of the Custom, Sir, but what's that to me.

_Off_. Not to you, Sir! why, what Privilege have you above the rest?

_Har_. Privilege, for what, Sir?

_Off_. Why, for pa.s.sing, Sir, with any of the before-named Carriages.

_Har_. Art mad?--Dost not see I am a plain Baker, and this my Cart, that comes to carry Bread for the Vice-Roy's, and the City's Use?--ha.

_Off_. Are you mad, Sir, to think I cannot see a Gentleman Farmer and a Calash, from a Baker and a Cart.

_Har_. Drunk by this Day--and so early too? Oh, you're a special Officer? unhand my Horse, Sirrah, or you shall pay for all the Damage you do me.

_Off_. Hey Day! here's a fine Cheat upon the Vice-Roy: Sir, pay me, or I'll seize your Horse.

[Har. _strikes him. They scuffle a little_.

--Nay, and you be so brisk, I'll call the Clerk from his Office.

[_Calls_.]--Mr. Clerk, Mr. Clerk.

[_Goes to the Entrance to call the_ Clerk, _the mean time_ Har.

_whips a Frock over himself, and puts down the hind part of the Chariot, and then 'tis a Cart.

Enter_ Clerk.

_Cler_. What's the matter here?

_Off_. Here's a Fellow, Sir, will persuade me, his Calash is a Cart, and refuses the Customs for pa.s.sing the Gate.

_Cler_. A Calash--Where?--I see only a Carter and his Cart.

[_The_ Officer _looks on him_.

_Off_. Ha, what a Devil, was I blind?

_Har_. Mr. Clerk, I am a Baker, that came with Bread to sell, and this Fellow here has stopt me this Hour, and made me lose the sale of my Ware; and being drunk, will out-face me I am a Farmer, and this Cart a Calash.

_Cler_. He's in an Error, Friend, pa.s.s on.

_Har_. No, Sir, I'll have satisfaction first, or the Vice-Roy shall know how he's serv'd by drunken Officers, that are a Nuisance to a Civil Government.

_Cler_. What do you demand, Friend?

_Har_. Demand,--I demand a Crown, Sir.

_Off_. This is very hard--Mr. Clerk--If ever I saw in my Life, I thought I saw a Gentleman and a Calash.

_Cler_. Come, come, gratify him, and see better hereafter.

_Off_. Here, Sir,--if I must, I must. [_Gives him a Crown_.

_Cler_. Pa.s.s on, Friend.

[_Ex_. Clerk.

[Har. _unseen, puts up the back of his Calash, and whips off his Frock, and goes to drive on. The_ Officer _looks on him, and stops him again_.

_Off_. Hum, I'll swear it is a Calash--Mr. Clerk--Mr. Clerk, come back, come back.

[_Runs out to call him. He changes as before_.

_Enter_ Officer _and_ Clerk.

--Come, Sir, let your own Eyes convince you, Sir.

_Cler_. Convince me, of what, you Sot?

_Off_. This is a Gentleman, and that a--ha-- [_Looks about on_ Har.