The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iii Part 58

_Bred_. Yes, Madam; and at the door encountred the beastly thing he calls a Landlady; who lookt as if she had been of her own Husband's making, compos'd of moulded Smith's Dust. I ask'd for Mr. _Wasteall_, and she began to open--and did so rail at him, that what with her _Billinsgate_, and her Husband's hammers, I was both deaf and dumb--at last the hammers ceas'd, and she grew weary, and call'd down Mr.

_Wasteall_; but he not answering--I was sent up a Ladder rather than a pair of Stairs; at last I scal'd the top, and enter'd the inchanted Castle; there did I find him, spite of the noise below, drowning his Cares in Sleep.

L. _Ful_. Whom foundst thou? _Gayman_?

_Bred_. He, Madam, whom I waked--and seeing me, Heavens, what Confusion seiz'd him! which nothing but my own Surprize could equal. Asham'd--he wou'd have turn'd away; But when he saw, by my dejected Eyes, I knew him, He sigh'd, and blusht, and heard me tell my Business: Then beg'd I wou'd be secret; for he vow'd his whole Repose and Life depended on my silence. Nor had I told it now, But that your Ladys.h.i.+p may find some speedy means to draw him from this desperate Condition.

L. _Ful_. Heavens, is't possible?

_Bred_. He's driven to the last degree of Poverty-- Had you but seen his Lodgings, Madam!

L. _Ful_. What were they?

_Bred_. 'Tis a pretty convenient Tub, Madam. He may lie a long in't, there's just room for an old join'd Stool besides the Bed, which one cannot call a Cabin, about the largeness of a Pantry Bin, or a Usurer's Trunk; there had been Dornex Curtains to't in the days of Yore; but they were now annihilated, and nothing left to save his Eyes from the Light, but my Landlady's Blue Ap.r.o.n, ty'd by the strings before the Window, in which stood a broken six-penny Looking-Gla.s.s, that shew'd as many Faces as the Scene in _Henry_ the Eighth, which could but just stand upright, and then the Comb-Case fill'd it.

L. _Ful_. What a leud Description hast thou made of his Chamber?

_Bred_. Then for his Equipage, 'tis banisht to one small Monsieur, who (saucy with his Master's Poverty) is rather a Companion than a Footman.

L. _Ful_. But what said he to the Forfeiture of his Land?

_Bred_. He sigh'd and cry'd, Why, farewel dirty Acres; It shall not trouble me, since 'twas all but for Love!

L. _Ful_. How much redeems it?

_Bred_. Madam, five hundred Pounds.

L. _Ful_. Enough--you shall in some disguise convey this Money to him, as from an unknown hand: I wou'd not have him think it comes from me, for all the World: That Nicety and Virtue I've profest, I am resolved to keep.

_Pert_. If I were your Ladys.h.i.+p, I wou'd make use of Sir _Cautious's_ Cash: pay him in his own Coin.

_Bred_. Your Ladys.h.i.+p wou'd make no Scruple of it, if you knew how this poor Gentleman has been us'd by my unmerciful Master.

L. _Ful_. I have a Key already to his Counting-House; it being lost, he had another made, and this I found and kept.

_Bred_. Madam, this is an excellent time for't, my Master being gone to give my Sister _Leticia_ at Church.

L. _Ful_. 'Tis so, I'll go and commit the Theft, whilst you prepare to carry it, and then we'll to dinner with your Sister the Bride.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _The House of Sir_ Feeble.

_Enter Sir_ Feeble, Leticia, _Sir_ Cautious, Bearjest, Diana, Noisey.

_Sir_ Feeble _sings and salutes 'em_.

Sir _Feeb_. Welcome, _Joan Sanderson_, welcome, welcome. [_Kisses the Bride_. Ods bobs, and so thou art, Sweet-heart. [_So to the rest_.

_Bear_. Methinks my Lady Bride is very melancholy.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, Women that are discreet, are always thus upon their Wedding-day.

Sir _Feeb_. Always by day-light, Sir _Cautious_.

_But when bright_ Phoebus _does retire, To_ Thetis' _Bed to quench his fire.

And do the thing we need not name, We Mortals by his influence do the same.

Then then the blus.h.i.+ng Maid lays by Her simpering, and her Modesty; And round the Lover clasps and twines Like Ivy, or the circling Vines_.

Sir _Feeb_. Here, _Ralph_, the Bottle, Rogue, of Sack, ye Rascal; hadst thou been a Butler worth hanging, thou wou'dst have met us at the door with it.--Ods bods, Sweet-heart, thy health.

_Bear_. Away with it, to the Bride's _Haunce in Kelder_.

Sir _Feeb_. Gots so, go to, Rogue, go to, that shall be, Knave, that shall be the morrow morning; he--ods bobs, we'll do't, Sweet heart; here's to't. [_Drinks again_.

_Let_. I die but to imagine it, wou'd I were dead indeed.

Sir _Feeb_. Hah--hum--how's this? Tears upon the Wedding day? Why, why--you Baggage, you, ye little Thing, Fools-face--away, you Rogue, you're naughty, you're naughty. [_Patting and playing, and following her_. Look--look--look now,--buss it--buss it--buss it--and Friends; did'ums, did'ums beat its none silly Baby--away, you little Hussey, away, and pledge me-- [_She drinks a little_.

Sir _Cau_. A wise discreet Lady, I'll warrant her; my Lady would prodigally have took it off all.

Sir _Feeb_. Dear's its nown dear Fubs; buss again, buss again, away, away--ods bobs, I long for Night--look, look, Sir _Cautious_, what an Eye's there!

Sir _Cau_. Ay, so there is, Brother, and a modest Eye too.

Sir _Feeb_. Adad, I love her more and more, _Ralph_--call old _Susan_ hither--come, Mr. _Bearjest_, put the Gla.s.s about. Ods bobs, when I was a young Fellow, I wou'd not let the young Wenches look pale and wan--but would rouse 'em, and touse 'em, and blowze 'em, till I put a colour in their Cheeks, like an Apple _John_, affacks--Nay, I can make a s.h.i.+ft still, and Pupsey shall not be jealous.

_Enter_ Susan, _Sir_ Feeble _whispers her, she goes out_.

_Let_. Indeed, not I; Sir. I shall be all Obedience.

Sir _Cau_. A most judicious Lady; would my _Julia_ had a little of her Modesty; but my Lady's a Wit.

_Enter_ Susan _with a Box_.

Sir _Feeb_. Look here, my little Puskin, here's fine Playthings for its nown little c.o.xcomb--go--get you gone--get you gone, and off with this St. _Martin's_ Trumpery, these Play-house Gla.s.s Baubles, this Necklace, and these Pendants, and all this false Ware; ods bobs, I'll have no Counterfeit Geer about thee, not I. See--these are right as the Blushes on thy Cheeks, and these as true as my Heart, my Girl. Go, put'em on, and be fine.

[_Gives 'em her_.

_Let_. Believe me, Sir, I shall not merit this kindness.

Sir _Feeb_. Go to--More of your Love, and less of your Ceremony--give the old Fool a hearty buss, and pay him that way--he, ye little wanton t.i.t, I'll steal up--and catch ye and love ye--adod, I will--get ye gone--get ye gone.

_Let_. Heavens, what a nauseous thing is an old Man turn'd Lover!

[_Ex_. Leticia _and_ Diana.

Sir _Cau_. How, steal up, Sir _Feeble_--I hope not so; I hold it most indecent before the lawful hour.

Sir _Feeb_. Lawful hour! Why, I hope all hours are lawful with a Man's own Wife.