The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 18

_Will._ Prithee-- prithee, Child-- not so many hard Questions-- let it suffice I am here, Child-- Come, come kiss me.

_Flor._ Good G.o.ds! what luck is mine?

_Will._ Only good luck, Child, parlous good luck-- Come hither,-- 'tis a delicate s.h.i.+ning Wench,-- by this Hand she's perfum'd, and smells like any Nosegay.-- Prithee, dear Soul, let's not play the Fool, and lose time,-- precious time-- for as Gad shall save me, I'm as honest a Fellow as breathes, tho I am a little disguis'd at present.-- Come, I say,-- why, thou may'st be free with me, I'll be very secret. I'll not boast who 'twas oblig'd me, not I-- for hang me if I know thy Name.

_Flor._ Heavens! what a filthy beast is this!

_Will._ I am so, and thou oughtst the sooner to lie with me for that reason,-- for look you, Child, there will be no Sin in't, because 'twas neither design'd nor premeditated; 'tis pure Accident on both sides-- that's a certain thing now-- Indeed should I make love to you, and you vow Fidelity-- and swear and lye till you believ'd and yielded-- Thou art therefore (as thou art a good Christian) oblig'd in Conscience to deny me nothing. Now-- come, be kind, without any more idle prating.

_Flor._ Oh, I am ruin'd-- wicked Man, unhand me.

_Will._ Wicked! Egad, Child, a Judge, were he young and vigorous, and saw those Eyes of thine, would know 'twas they gave the first blow-- the first provocation.-- Come, prithee let's lose no time, I say-- this is a fine convenient place.

_Flor._ Sir, let me go, I conjure you, or I'll call out.

_Will._ Ay, ay, you were best to call Witness to see how finely you treat me-- do.--

_Flor._ I'll cry Murder, Rape, or any thing, if you do not instantly let me go.

_Will._ A Rape! Come, come, you lye, you Baggage, you lye: What, I'll warrant you would fain have the World believe now that you are not so forward as I. No, not you,-- why at this time of Night was your Cobweb-door set open, dear Spider-- but to catch Flies?-- Hah come-- or I shall be d.a.m.nably angry.-- Why what a Coil is here.--

_Flor._ Sir, can you think--

_Will._ That you'd do it for nothing? oh, oh, I find what you'd be at-- look here, here's a Pistole for you-- here's a work indeed-- here-- take it, I say.--

_Flor._ For Heaven's sake, Sir, as you're a Gentleman--

_Will._ So-- now-- she would be wheedling me for more-- what, you will not take it then-- you're resolv'd you will not.-- Come, come, take it, or I'll put it up again; for, look ye, I never give more.-- Why, how now, Mistress, are you so high i'th' Mouth, a Pistole won't down with you?-- hah-- why, what a work's here-- in good time-- come, no struggling, be gone-- But an y'are good at a dumb Wrestle, I'm for ye,-- look ye,-- I'm for ye.-- [She struggles with him.

Enter _Belvile_ and _Frederick_.

_Bel._ The Door is open, a Pox of this mad Fellow, I'm angry that we've lost him, I durst have sworn he had follow'd us.

_Fred._ But you were so hasty, Colonel, to be gone.

_Flor._ Help, help,-- Murder!-- help-- oh, I'm ruin'd.

_Belv._ Ha, sure that's _Florinda's_ Voice. [Comes up to them.] --A Man!

Villain, let go that Lady.

[A noise.

[_Will._ turns and draws, _Fred._ interposes.

_Flor._ _Belvile!_ Heavens! my Brother too is coming, and 'twill be impossible to escape.-- _Belvile_, I conjure you to walk under my Chamber-window, from whence I'll give you some instructions what to do-- This rude Man has undone us.

[Exit.

_Will._ _Belvile!_

Enter _Pedro_, _Stephano_, and other Servants with Lights.

_Ped._ I'm betray'd; run, _Stephano_, and see if _Florinda_ be safe.

[Exit _Steph._

So whoe'er they be, all is not well, I'll to _Florinda's_ Chamber.

[They fight, and _Pedro's_ Party beats 'em out; going out, meets _Stephano_.

_Steph._ You need not, Sir, the poor Lady's fast asleep, and thinks no harm: I wou'd not wake her, Sir, for fear of frightning her with your danger.

_Ped._ I'm glad she's there-- Rascals, how came the Garden-Door open?

_Steph._ That Question comes too late, Sir: some of my Fellow-Servants Masquerading I'll warrant.

_Ped._ Masquerading! a leud Custom to debauch our Youth-- there's something more in this than I imagine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. _Changes to the Street._

Enter _Belvile_ in Rage, _Fred._ holding him, and _Willmore_ melancholy.

_Will._ Why, how the Devil shou'd I know _Florinda_?

_Belv._ Ah plague of your ignorance! if it had not been _Florinda_, must you be a Beast?-- a Brute, a senseless Swine?

_Will._ Well, Sir, you see I am endu'd with Patience-- I can bear-- tho egad y're very free with me methinks,-- I was in good hopes the Quarrel wou'd have been on my side, for so uncivilly interrupting me.

_Belv._ Peace, Brute, whilst thou'rt safe-- oh, I'm distracted.

_Will._ Nay, nay, I'm an unlucky Dog, that's certain.

_Belv._ Ah curse upon the Star that rul'd my Birth! or whatsoever other Influence that makes me still so wretched.

_Will._ Thou break'st my Heart with these Complaints; there is no Star in fault, no Influence but Sack, the cursed Sack I drank.

_Fred._ Why, how the Devil came you so drunk?

_Will._ Why, how the Devil came you so sober?

_Belv._ A curse upon his thin Skull, he was always before-hand that way.

_Fred._ Prithee, dear Colonel, forgive him, he's sorry for his fault.

_Belv._ He's always so after he has done a mischief-- a plague on all such Brutes.

_Will._ By this Light I took her for an errant Harlot.

_Belv._ d.a.m.n your debaucht Opinion: tell me, Sot, hadst thou so much sense and light about thee to distinguish her to be a Woman, and could'st not see something about her Face and Person, to strike an awful Reverence into thy Soul?

_Will._ Faith no, I consider'd her as mere a Woman as I could wish.