The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Ii Part 94

_Gal_. No more; look to't--look you forget her Name--or but to think of her--farewel-- [_Nods at him_.

Sir _Sig_. Farewell, quoth ye--'tis well I had the Art of dissembling after all, here had been a sweet broil upon the Coast else.--

_Fil_. Very well, I'll trouble my self to read no more, since I know you'l be so kind to the world to make it publick.

_Tick_. At my return, Sir, for the good of the Nation, I will print it, and I think it will deserve it.

_Lau_. This is a precious Rogue, to make a Tutor of.

_Fil_. Yet these Mooncalfs dare pretend to the breeding of our Youth; and the time will come, I fear, when none shall be reputed to travel like a Man of Quality, who has not the advantage of being impos'd upon by one of these pedantick Novices, who instructs the young Heir in what himself is most profoundly ignorant of.

_Gal_. Come, 'tis dark, and time for our Design,--your Servant, Signiors.

[_Exeunt_ Fil. _and_ Gal.

_Lau_. I'll home, and watch the kind deceiving Minute, that may conduct him by mistake to me.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ Petro, _like_ Barberacho, _just as_ Tick.

_and Sir_ Signal _are going out_.

Sir _Sig_. Oh, _Barberacho_, we are undone! Oh, the Diavillo take that Master you sent me?

_Pet_. Master, what Master?

Sir _Sig_. Why, Signior Morigoroso!

_Pet_. Mor--oso--what shou'd he be?

Sir _Sig_. A Civility-Master he should have been, to have taught us good Manners;--but the Cornuto cheated us most d.a.m.nably, and by a willing mistake taught us nothing in the world but Wit.

_Pet_. Oh, abominable Knavery! why, what a kind of Man was he?

Sir _Sig_.--Why--much such another as your self.

_Tick_. Higher, Signior, higher.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, somewhat higher--but just of his pitch.

_Pet_. Well, Sir, and what of this Man?

Sir _Sig_. Only pickt our Pockets, that's all.

_Tick_. Yes, and cozen'd us of our Rings.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, and gave us Cackamarda Orangata for Snuff.

_Tick_. And his Blessing to boot when he had done.

Sir _Sig_. A vengeance on't, I feel it still.

_Pet_. Why, this 'tis to do things of your own head; for I sent no such Signior Moroso--but I'll see what I can do to retrieve 'em--I am now a little in haste, farewell.-- [_Offers to go_, Tick. _goes out by him and jogs him_.

_Tick_. Remember to meet me--farewel, _Barberacho_.

[_Goes out, Sir_ Sig. _pulls him_.

Sir _Sig. Barberacho_--is the Lady ready?

_Pet_. Is your Money ready?

Sir _Sig_. Why, now, though I am threatned, and kill'd, and beaten, and kick'd about this Intrigue, I must advance. [_Aside_.]--But dost think there's no danger?

_Pet_. What, in a delicate young amorous Lady, Signior?

Sir _Sig_. No, no, mum, I don't much fear the Lady; but this same mad fellow _Galliard_, I hear, has a kind of a hankering after her-- Now dare not I tell him what a discovery I have made. [_Aside_.

_Pet_. Let me alone to secure you, meet me in the _Piazzo d'Hispagnia_, as soon as you can get yourself in order; where the two Fools shall meet, and prevent either's coming. [_Aside_.

Sir _Sig_. Enough,--here's a Bill for 500 Crowns more upon my Merchant, you know him by a good token, I lost the last Sum you receiv'd for me, a pox of that Handsel; away, here's company.

[_Ex_. Pet. _Enter_ Octavio _and_ c.r.a.pine.]

Now will I disguise my self, according to the mode of the Roman Inamoratos; and deliver my self upon the place appointed.

[_Ex. Sir_ Sig.

_Oct_. On the _Corso_ didst thou see 'em?

_c.r.a.p_. On the _Corso_, my Lord, in discourse with three Cavaliers, one of which has given me many a Pistole, to let him into the Garden a-nights at _Viterbo_, to talk with _Donna Marcella_ from her Chamber-Window, I think I shou'd remember him.

_Oct_. Oh, that Thought fires me with Anger fit for my Revenge, [_Aside_.

And they are to serenade 'em, thou say'st?

_c.r.a.p_. I did, my Lord: and if you can have patience till they come, you will find your Rival in this very place, if he keep his word.

_Oct_. I do believe thee, and have prepared my Bravoes to attack him: if I can act but my Revenge to night, how shall I wors.h.i.+p Fortune? Keep out of sight, and when I give the word, be ready all. I hear some coming, let's walk off a little.--

_Enter_ Marcella _in Man's Clothes, and_ Philippa _as a Woman with a Lanthorn_. Oct. _and_ c.r.a.p. _go off the other way_.

_Mar_. Thou canst never convince me, but if _c.r.a.pine_ saw us, and gaz'd so long upon us, he must know us too; and then what hinders but by a diligent watch about the House, they will surprize us, e'er we have secured our selves from 'em?

_Phil_. And how will this exposing your self to danger prevent 'em?

_Mar_. My design now is, to prevent _Fillamour's_ coming into danger, by hindring his approach to this House: I wou'd preserve the kind Ingrate with any hazard of my own; and 'tis better to die than fall into the hands of _Octavio_. I'm desperate with that thought, and fear no danger: however, be you ready at the door, and when I ring admit me--ha--who comes here?

_Enter_ Tickletext _with a Periwig and Crevat of Sir_ Signal's: _A Sword by his side, and a dark Lanthorn; she opens hers, looks on him, and goes out_.

_Tick_. A Man! now am I, though an old Sinner, as timorous as a young Thief: 'tis a great inconvenience in these Popish Countrys, that a man cannot have liberty to steal to a Wench without danger; not that I need fear who sees me except _Galliard_, who suspecting my business, will go near to think I am wickedly inclin'd. Sir _Signal_ I have left hard at his Study, and Sir _Henry_ is no nocturnal Inamorato, unless like me he dissemble it.--Well, _certo_, 'tis a wonderful pleasure to deceive the World: And as a learned Man well observ'd, that the Sin of Wenching lay in the Habit only; I having laid that aside, _Timothy Tickletext_, princ.i.p.al Holder-forth of the _Covent-Garden_ Conventicle, Chaplain of _Buffoon-Hall_ in the County of _Kent_, is free to recreate himself.

_Enter_ Gal. _with a dark Lanthorn_.

_Gal_. Where the Devil is this _Fillamour?_ and the Mufick? which way cou'd he go to lose me thus?