The Comedies of William Congreve Part 26

VAIN. Agreed.

SHARP. Then, let me beg these ladies to wear their masks, a moment. Come in, gentlemen and ladies.

HEART. What the devil's all this to me?

VAIN. Patience.

SCENE the Last

[_To them_] SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE, SYLVIA, LUCY, SETTER.

BLUFF. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper.

SIR JO. Ay, ay, whatsoever, Captain, stick to that; whatsoever.

SHARP. 'Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release.

VAIN. Ay, ay, to this instant moment. I have pa.s.sed an act of oblivion.

BLUFF. 'Tis very generous, sir, since I needs must own--

SIR JO. No, no, Captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh. 'Tis I must own--

BLUFF.--That you are over-reached too, ha, ha, ha, only a little art military used--only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair Araminta, my wife's permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY _unmasks_.]

SIR JO. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, or so. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got--now, but all's forgiven.

VAIN. I know whom you have not got; pray ladies convince him. [ARAM.

_and_ BELIN. _unmask_.]

SIR JO. Ah! oh Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides.

SHARP. Sir Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman's pardon: for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SYLVIA _unmasks_.]

HEART. My wife! By this light 'tis she, the very c.o.c.katrice. O Sharper! Let me embrace thee. But art thou sure she is really married to him?

SET. Really and lawfully married, I am witness.

SHARP. Bellmour will unriddle to you. [HEARTWELL _goes to_ BELLMOUR.]

SIR JO. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to be better acquainted.

SYLV. The worst of me is, that I am your wife--

SHARP. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A fine lady, and a lady of very good quality.

SIR JO. Thanks to my knighthood, she's a lady--

VAIN. That deserves a fool with a better t.i.tle. Pray use her as my relation, or you shall hear on't.

BLUFF. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

SET. And my relation; pray let her be respected accordingly. Well, honest Lucy, fare thee well. I think, you and I have been play-fellows off and on, any time this seven years.

LUCY. Hold your prating. I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars.

BLUFF. No more wars, spouse, no more wars. While I plant laurels for my head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home.

HEART. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee. And I cannot in grat.i.tude (for I see which way thou art going) see thee fall into the same snare out of which thou hast delivered me.

BELL. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention; but there is a fatality in marriage, for I find I'm resolute.

HEART. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part, I have once escaped; and when I wed again, may she be--ugly, as an old bawd.

VAIN. Ill-natured, as an old maid--

BELL. Wanton, as a young widow--

SHARP. And jealous, as a barren wife.

HEART. Agreed.

BELL. Well; 'midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting durance.

BELIN. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. [_Giving her hand_.]

BELL. Frank, will you keep us in countenance?

VAIN. May I presume to hope so great a blessing?

ARAM. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friend's experience first.

BELL. O' my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant.

[_Aside_.] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning.

May be it may get you an appet.i.te to see us fall to before you. Setter, did not you tell me?--

SET. They're at the door: I'll call 'em in.

A DANCE.

BELL. Now set we forward on a journey for life. Come take your fellow- travellers. Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone.

HEART. With gaudy plumes and jingling bells made proud, The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud.

A morning-sun his tinselled harness gilds, And the first stage a down-hill greensward yields.