The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 56

_Charl_. I have a fine time on't, between ye, to have him think I am stripping my self before Mr. _Foppington_--Let go, or I'll call out and tell him all.

[Wild, _breaks open the Door and rushes in_: Fop. _stands close up at the entrance till he is past him, then venturing to slip out, finds_ Wild, _has made fast the Door: so he is forc'd to return again and stand close up behind_ Wild.

_with signs of Fear_.

_Wild_. How now, _Charlot_, what means this new Unkindness? what, not a Word?

_Charl_. There is so little Musick in my Voice, you do not care to hear it: you have been better entertain'd, I find, mightily employ'd, no doubt.

_Wild_. Yes, faith, and so I have, _Charlot_: d.a.m.n'd Business, that Enemy to Love, has made me rude.

_Charl_. Or that other Enemy to Love, d.a.m.n'd Wenching.

_Wild_. Wenching! how ill hast thou tim'd thy Jealousy! What Banker, that to morrow is to pay a mighty Sum, wou'd venture out his Stock to day in little Parcels, and lose his Credit by it?

_Charl_. You wou'd, perfidious as you are, though all your Fortune, all your future Health, depended on that Credit.

[_Angry_.

_Wild_. So, hark ye, Mrs. Clacket, you have been prating I find in my Absence, giving me a handsom Character to _Charlot_--You hate any good thing shou'd go by your own Nose. [_Aside to_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. By my Nose, Mr. _Wilding_! I defy you: I'd have you to know, I scorn any good thing shou'd go by my Nose in an uncivil way.

_Wild_. I believe so.

Mrs. _Clack_. Have I been the Confident to all your Secrets this three years, in Sickness and in Health, for richer, for poorer; conceal'd the Nature of your wicked Diseases, under the honest Name of Surfeits; call'd your filthy Surgeons, Mr. Doctor, to keep up your Reputation; civilly receiv'd your t'other end of the Town young Relations at all Hours--

_Wild_. High!

Mrs. _Clack_. Been up with you, and down with you early and late, by Night and by Day; let you in at all Hours, drunk and sober, single and double; and civilly withdrawn, and modestly shut the Door after me?

_Wild_. What! The Storm's up, and the Devil cannot lay it.

Mrs. _Clack_. And I am thus rewarded for my Pains!

[_Weeps_.

_Wild_. So Tempests are allay'd by Showers of Rain.

Mrs. _Clack_. That I shou'd be charg'd with speaking ill of you, so honest, so civil a Gentleman--

_Charl_. No, I have better Witness of your Falshood.

_Fop_. Hah, 'Sdeath, she'll name me!

_Wild_. What mean you, my _Charlot_? Do you not think I love you?

_Charl_. Go ask my Lady _Galliard_, she keeps the best Account of all your Sighs and Vows, And robs me of my dearest softer Hours.

[_Kindly to him_.

Mrs. _Clack_. You cannot hold from being kind to him. [_Aside_.

_Wild. _Galliard_! How came she by that Secret of my Life? [_Aside_.]

Why, ay, 'tis true, I am there sometimes about an Arbitration, about a Suit in Law, about my Uncle.

_Charl_. Ay, that Uncle too-- You swore to me you were your Uncle's Heir; But you perhaps may chance to get him one, If the Lady prove not cruel.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, what Rascal has been prating to her!

[_Aside_.

_Charl_. Whilst I am reserv'd for a dead Lift, if Fortune prove unkind, or wicked Uncles refractory: Yet I cou'd love you though you were a Slave, [_In a soft Tone to him_.

And I were Queen of all the Universe.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, there you spoil'd all again--you forgot your self.

_Charl_. And all the World when he looks kindly on me. But I'll take Courage and be very angry. [_Aside_. Nor do your Perjuries rest here; you're equally as false to _Galliard_, as to me; false for a little Mistress of the Town, whom you've set up in spite to Quality.

[_Angry_.

Mrs. _Clack_. So, that was home and handsom.

_Wild_. What d.a.m.n'd Informer does she keep in pension?

_Charl_. And can you think my Fortune and my Youth Merits no better Treatment? [_Angry_.

How cou'd you have the Heart to use me so? [_Soft to him_.

I fall insensibly to Love and Fondness. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. Ah, my dear _Charlot_! you who know my Heart, can you believe me false?

_Charl_. In every Syllable, in every Look; Your Vows, your Sighs, and Eyes, all counterfeit.

You said you lov'd me, where was then your Truth?

You swore you were to be your Uncle's Heir; Where was your Confidence of me the while.

To think my Generosity so scanted, To love you for your Fortune?

--How every Look betrays my yielding Heart! [_Aside_.

No, since Men are grown so cunning in their Trade of Love, the necessary Vice I'll practise too, And chaffer with Love-Merchants for my Heart.

Make it appear you are your Uncle's Heir, I'll marry ye to morrow.

Of all thy Cheats, that was the most unkind, Because you thought to conquer by that Lye.

To night I'll be resolv'd.

_Wild_. Hum! to night!

_Charl_. To night, or I will think you love me for my Fortune; Which if you find elsewhere to more advantage, I may unpitied die--and I shou'd die If you should prove untrue. [Tenderly to him.

Mrs. _Clack_. There you've dasht all again.

_Wild_. I'm resolv'd to keep my Credit with her-- Here's my Hand; This Night, _Charlot_, I'll let you see the Writings.

--But how? a Pox on him that knows for _Thomas_. [_Aside_.

_Charl_. Hah! that Hand without the Ring!

Nay, never study for a handsom Lye.

_Wild_. Ring? Oh, ay, I left it in my Dressing-room this Morning.