The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 130

_Scar_. Why, Sir, a Water impregnated to a Circulation with _prima Materia_; upon my Honour, Sir, the strongest I ever drank of.

_Doct_. How, Sir! did you drink of it?

_Scar_. I only speak the words of _Garamanteen_, Sir.

--Pox on him, I shall be trapt. [_Aside_.

_Doct_. Cry Mercy, Sir.-- [_Bows_.

_Scar_. The Lunary Physicians, Sir, call it _Urinam Vulcani_, it calybeates every ones Excrements more or less according to the Gradus of the natural Calor.--To my Knowledge, Sir, a Smith of a very fiery Const.i.tution is grown very opulent by drinking these Waters.

_Doct_. How, Sir, grown rich by drinking the Waters, and to your Knowledge?

_Scar_. The Devil's in my Tongue. To my Knowledge, Sir; for what a Man of Honour relates, I may safely affirm.

_Doct_. Excuse me, Seignior-- [_Puts off his Hat again gravely_.

_Scar_. For, Sir, conceive me how he grew rich! since he drank those Waters he never buys any Iron, but hammers it out of _Stercus Proprius_.

_Enter_ Bellemante _with a Billet_.

_Bell_. Sir, 'tis three a Clock, and Dinner will be cold.

[_Goes behind_ Scaramouch, _and gives him the Note and goes out_.

_Doct_. I come, Sweet-heart; but this is wonderful.

_Scar_. Ay, Sir, and if at any time Nature be too infirm, and he prove Costive, he has no more to do, but apply a Load-stone _ad Anum_.

_Doct_. Is't possible?

_Scar_. Most true, Sir, and that facilitates the Journey _per Viscera_.

--But I detain you, Sir;--another time, Sir,--I will now only beg the Honour of a Word or two with the Governante, before I go.

_Doct_. Sir, she shall wait on you, and I shall be proud of the Honour of your Conversation.

[_Ex_. Doctor.

_Enter to him_ Harlequin, _dress'd like a Farmer, as before_.

_Har_. Hum--What have we here, a Taylor or a Tumbler?

_Scar_. Ha--Who's this?--Hum--What if it shou'd be the Farmer that the Doctor has promis'd _Mopsophil_ to? My Heart misgives me.

[_They look at each other a while_.

Who wou'd you speak with, Friend?

_Har_. This is, perhaps, my Rival the Apothecary.--Speak with, Sir! why, what's that to you?

_Scar_. Have you Affairs with Seignor Doctor, Sir?

_Har_. It may be I have, it may be I have not. What then, Sir?

_While they seem in angry Dispute, enter_ Mopsophil.

_Mop_. Seignior Doctor tells me I have a Lover waits me, sure it must be the Farmer or the Apothecary. No matter which, so a Lover that welcomest Man alive. I am resolv'd to take the first good Offer, though but in revenge of _Harlequin_ and _Scaramouch_, for putting Tricks upon me.

--Ha,--Two of 'em!

_Scar_. My Mistress here!

[_They both bow, and advance, putting each other by_.

_Mop_. Hold, Gentlemen,--do not worry me. Which of you wou'd speak with me?

_Both_. I, I, I, Madam--

_Mop_. Both of you?

_Both_. No, Madam, I, I.

_Mop_. If both Lovers, you are both welcome; but let's have fair Play, and take your turns to speak.

_Har_. Ay, Seignior, 'tis most uncivil to interrupt me.

_Scar_. And disingenuous, Sir, to intrude on me.

[_Putting one another by_.

_Mop_. Let me then speak first.

_Har_. I'm dumb.

_Scar_. I acquiesce.

_Mop_. I was inform'd there was a Person here had Propositions of Marriage to make me.

_Har_. That's I, that's I-- [_Shoves_ Scar. _away_.

_Scar_. And I attend to that consequential _Finis_.

[_Shoves_ Har. _away_.

_Har_. I know not what you mean by your Finis, Seignior; but I am come to offer my self this Gentlewoman's Servant, her Lover, her Husband, her Dog in a Halter, or any thing.

_Scar_. Him I p.r.o.nounce a Paltroon, and an ignominious Utensil, that dare lay claim to the renowned Lady of my _Primum Mobile_; that is, my best Affections. [_In Rage_.

_Har_. I fear not your hard Words, Sir, but dare aloud p.r.o.nounce, if _Donna Mopsophil_ like me, the Farmer, as well as I like her, 'tis a Match, and my Chariot's ready at the Gate to bear her off, d'ye see.

_Mop_. Ah, how that Chariot pleads. [_Aside_.

_Scar_. And I p.r.o.nounce, that being intoxicated with the sweet Eyes of this refulgent Lady, I come to tender her my n.o.blest Particulars, being already most advantageously set up with the circ.u.mstantial Implements of my Occupation. [_Points to the Shop_.