The Works of Aphra Behn - BestLightNovel.com
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_Scar_. But we lose precious time, since you design me a kind Hour in your Chamber.
_Har_. Oh Traitor!
_Mop_. You'll be sure to keep it from _Harlequin_.
_Har_. Ah yes, he, hang him, Fool, he takes you for a Saint.
_Scar. Harlequin_! Hang him, shotten Herring.
_Har_. Ay, a Cully, a Noddy.
_Mop_. A meer Zany.
_Har_. Ah, hard-hearted _Turk_.
_Mop_. Fit for nothing but a Cuckold.
_Har_. Monster of Ingrat.i.tude! How shall I be reveng'd?
[_Scar, going over the Balcony_.
--Hold, hold, thou perjur'd Traitor.
[_Cries out in a Woman's Voice_.
_Mop_. Ha, discover'd!--A Woman in the Garden!
_Har_. Come down, come down, thou false perfidious Wretch.
_Scar_. Who in the Devil's Name, art thou? And to whom dost thou speak?
_Har_. To thee, that false Deceiver, thou hast broke thy Vows, thy lawful Vows of Wedlock. [_Bawling out_.
Oh, oh, that I shou'd live to see the Day. [_Crying_.
_Scar_. Who mean you, Woman?
_Har_. Whom shou'd I mean but thou,--my lawful Spouse?
_Mop_. Oh Villain! Lawful Spouse!--Let me come to her.
[Scar, _comes down, as_ Mopsophil _flings out of the Balcony_.
_Scar_. The Woman's mad--hark ye, Jade, how long have you been thus distracted?
_Har_. E'er since I lov'd and trusted thee, false Varlet.--See here, the Witness of my Love and Shame.
[_Bawls, and points to her Belly.
Just then_ Mopsophil _enters_.
_Mop_. How! with Child! Out, Villain! was I made a Property?
_Scar_. Hear me.
_Har_. Oh, thou Heathen Christian! was not one Woman enough?
_Mop_. Ay, Sirrah, answer to that.
_Scar_. I shall be sacrific'd.
_Mop_. I am resolv'd to marry to morrow--either to the Apothecary or the Farmer, Men I never saw, to be reveng'd on thee, thou termagant Infidel.
_Enter the_ Doctor.
_Doct_. What Noise, what Out-cry, what Tumult's this?
_Har_. Ha, the Doctor!--What shall I do?
[_Gets to the Door_, Scar. _pulls her in_.
_Doct_. A Woman! some Baud I am sure;--Woman, what's your Business here?
ha.
_Har_. I came, an't like your Seigniors.h.i.+p, to Madam the Governante here, to serve her in the Quality of a _Fille de Chambre_ to the young Ladies.
_Doct_. A _Fille de Chambre_! 'tis so, a she Pimp.
_Har_. Ah, Seignior-- [_Makes his little dapper Leg, instead of a Curt'sy_.
_Doct_. How now, what, do you mock me?
_Har_. Oh Seignior! [_Gets nearer the Door_.
_Mop_. Stay, stay, Mistress; and what Service are you able to do the Seignior's Daughters?
_Har_. Is this Seignior Doctor _Baliardo_, Madam?
_Mop_. Yes.
_Har_. Oh! he's a very handsome Gentleman--indeed.
_Doct_. Ay, ay, what Service can you do, Mistress?
_Har_. Why, Seignior, I can tie a Crevat the best of any Person in _Naples_, and I can comb a Periwig--and I can--
_Doct_. Very proper Service for young Ladies; you, I believe, have been _Fille de Chambre_ to some young Cavaliers?
_Har_. Most true, Seignior; why shou'd not the Cavaliers keep _Filles de Chambre_, as well as great Ladies _Valets de Chambre_?
_Doct_. Indeed 'tis equally reasonable.--'Tis a Baud. [_Aside_.
But have you never serv'd Ladies?
