The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 31

_Lean._ Hah, _Wittmore_ there! he must not see my Uncle yet.

[Puts Sir _Pat._ back.

[Exit _Wit._

Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, never detain me, I'll to my Lady, is this your Demonstration?--Was ever so virtuous a Lady--Well, I'll to her, and console her poor Heart; ah, the Joy 'twill bring her to see my Resurrection!--I long to surprize her.

[Going off cross the Stage.

_Lean._ Hold, Sir, I think she's coming,--blest sight, and with her _Wittmore_!

[Puts Sir _Pat._ back to the Door.

Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's this?

L. _Fan._ Now, my dear _Wittmore_, claim thy Rites of Love without controul, without the contradiction of wretched Poverty or Jealousy: Now undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o'er all my Pleasures and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin my Homage.-- [Kisses him.

Sir _Pat._ Sure 'tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.

_Lean._ 'Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.

_Wit._ Thou wondrous kind, and wondrous beautiful; that Power that made thee with so many Charms, gave me a Soul fit only to adore 'em; nor wert thou destin'd to another's Arms, but to be render'd still more fit for mine.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, is not that _Fainlove_, _Isabella's_ Husband? Oh Villain! Villain! I will renounce my Sense and my Religion.

[Aside.

L. _Fan._ Another's Arms! Oh, call not those hated Thoughts to my remembrance, Lest it destroy that kindly Heat within me, Which thou canst only raise and still maintain.

Sir _Pat._ Oh Woman! Woman! d.a.m.n'd dissembling Woman. [Aside.

L. _Fan._ Come, let me lead thee to that Ma.s.s of Gold he gave me to be despis'd; And which I render thee, my lovely Conqueror, As the first Tribute of my glorious Servitude.

Draw in the Basket which I told you of, and is amongst the Rubbish in the Hall. [Exit _Wittmore_.] That which the Slave so many Years was toiling for, I in one moment barter for a Kiss, as Earnest of our future Joys.

Sir _Pat._ Was ever so prodigal a Harlot? was this the Saint? was this the most tender Consort that ever Man had?

_Lean._ No, in good faith, Sir.

Enter _Wittmore_ pulling in the Basket.

L. _Fan._ This is it, with a direction on't to thee, whither I design'd to send it.

_Wit._ Good morrow to the Day, and next the Gold; Open the Shrine, that I may see my Saint-- Hail the World's Soul,-- [Opens the Basket, Sir _Cred._ starts up.

L. _Fan._ O Heavens! what thing art thou?

Sir _Cred._ O, Pardon, Pardon, sweet Lady, I confess I had a hand in't.

L. _Fan._ In what, thou Slave?--

Sir _Cred._ Killing the good believing Alderman;--but 'twas against my Will.

L. _Fan._ Then I'm not so much oblig'd to thee,--but where's the Money, the 8000_l._ the Plate and Jewels, Sirrah?

_Wit._ Death, the Dog has eat it.

Sir _Cred._ Eat it! Oh Lord, eat 8000_l._ Wou'd I might never come out of this Basket alive, if ever I made such a Meal in my Life.

_Wit._ Ye Dog, you have eat it; and I'll make ye swallow all the Doses you writ in your Bill, but I'll have it upward or downward.

[Aside.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, one of the Rogues my Doctors.

Sir _Cred._ Oh, dear Sir, hang me out of the way rather.

Enter _Maundy_.

_Maun._ Madam, I have sent away the Basket to Mr. _Wittmore's_ Lodgings.

L. _Fan._ You might have sav'd your self that Labour, I now having no more to do, but to bury the stinking Corps of my quandom Cuckold, dismiss his Daughters, and give thee quiet possession of all.

[To _Wit._

Sir _Pat._ Fair Lady, you'll take me along with you?

[Snaps, pulls off his Hat, and comes up to her.

L. _Fan._ My Husband!--I'm betray'd--

Sir _Pat._ Husband! I do defy thee, Satan, thou greater Wh.o.r.e than she of _Babylon_; thou Shame, thou Abomination to thy s.e.x.

L. _Fan._ Rail on, whilst I dispose my self to laugh at thee.

Sir _Pat._ _Leander_, call all the House in to be a Witness of our Divorce.

[Exit _Lean._

L. _Fan._ Do, and all the World, and let 'em know the Reason.

Sir _Pat._ Methinks I find an Inclination to swear,--to curse my self and thee, that I cou'd no better discern thee; nay, I'm so chang'd from what I was, that I think I cou'd even approve of Monarchy and Church-Discipline, I'm so truly convinc'd I have been a Beast and an a.s.s all my Life.

Enter Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Leander_, _Lodwick_, _f.a.n.n.y_, &c.

L. _Kno._ Hah, Sir _Patient_ not dead?

Sir _Pat._ Ladies and Gentlemen, take notice that I am a Cuckold, a crop-ear'd snivelling Cuckold.

Sir _Cred._ A Cuckold! sweet Sir, shaw, that's a small matter in a Man of your Quality.

Sir _Pat._ And I beg your pardon, Madam, for being angry that you call'd me so. [To L. _Kno._] And yours, dear _Isabella_, for desiring you to marry my good Friend there [Points to _Wit._] whose name I perceive I was mistaken in:--and yours, _Leander_, that I wou'd not take your Advice long since: and yours, fair Lady, for believing you honest,--'twas done like a credulous c.o.xcomb:--and yours, Sir, for taking any of your Tribe for wise, learned or honest.

[To Sir _Credulous_.

_Wit._ Faith, Sir, I deceiv'd ye only to serve my Friend; and, Sir, your Daughter is married to Mr _Knowell_: your Wife had all my stock of Love before, Sir.