The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 122

L. _Youth._ Why, _Lettice_ tells me, she went to buy some Trifles to adorn her this Night--Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.

Enter Mr. _Tw.a.n.g_.

_Tw.a.n.g._ Alas, what pity 'tis; the Supper is quite spoil'd, and no Bridegroom come!

_A Noise of hallowing without, and Musick._

Enter Lady _Blunder_.

L. _Blun._ Bless us! Here's a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and Flambeaux at the Door! the Fops of the Town have heard of a Wedding, and are come in Masquerade.

Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince _Frederick_, leading _Mirtilla_, _George_ leading _Teresia_; Sir _Merlin_, _Diana_; Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_; Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade.

Sir _Morgan_ comes in, all in Mourning; _Welborn_, and _Olivia_.

Sir _Mer._ Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the saying is) to give you Joy. Sir, are not you the Bridegroom?

_Ter._ Where's your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay, where's your Bride?

Sir _Row._ What's that to you, _Sir_ c.o.xcomb?

Sir _Mer._ Hum--how the devil came he to know me now?--Is this reverend Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?

Sir _Row._ Ounds, they come to mock us!--Hark ye, hark ye, Tawdrums, if you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and be gone, d'ye hear.--We are not at leisure for Fooling.

_Geo._ Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon [_George_ kneels.

this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I'll dedicate to please and humour you. Sir, I am marry'd.

[Pulls off his Mask.

Sir _Row._ What the Devil's that to me, Sir?

_Geo._ Do not you know me, Sir?

Sir _Row._ No, Sir, nor don't care to know any such flaunting c.o.xcombs.

_Geo._ Look on me, Sir.

[Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.

Sir _Row._ Hum, hum, hum--

_Ter._ It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav'd your Life from Insolence.

Sir _Row._ Hum--_Teresia_!

L. _Youth._ How, _Teresia_! what, robb'd me of my intended Husband? Oh, undone! undone!

[Falls into a Chair.

Sir _Row._ And hast thou, after all, served me such a Rogue's Trick, thou ungracious Varlet? What, cuckold thine own Father!

_Geo._ Oh, do not frown, I cannot bear your Anger! Here will I hang for ever till you Pardon me.

[Clasps his Knees.

Sir _Row._ Look--look--now cannot I be angry with the good-natur'd young Rogue.

[Weeps.

Well, _George_--But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a d.a.m.n'd Trick of yours.

_Geo._ Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and you'll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting as you would of a Son of another Man's perhaps.

Sir _Row._ Thou'rt in the Right on't.

Sir _Mer._ Ha! Is Monsieur _Lejere_ then my Brother _George_?

_Geo._ Sir, Here's another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother _Merlin_, and my Lady _Diana_.

L. _Blun._ _Diana_! What, Sir _Harry Modish's_ Mistress?

_Dia._ Yes, he p.a.w.n'd me at the _Ba.s.set-Table_; and, in Revenge, I resolv'd to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.

Sir _Row._ The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I'll give him a Thousand Pound a Year.

_Geo._ I humbly thank you, Sir.

_Mir._ Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?

Sir _Morg._ Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but rest her Soul, she's burnt.

[Weeps.

And I shall never see any thing again like her.

_Mir._ No! What think you of this Face, Sir?

Sir _Morg._ As Gad shall sa' me, as like as if the same.

L. _Blun._ In troth, and so she is.

_Prince._ 'Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv'd her from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.

Sir _Morg._ That's a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife, because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?

_Prince._ Lover's Law, Sir.

L. _Blun._ Ay, ay, Son, 'tis the Fas.h.i.+on to marry one Week, and separate the next. I'll set you a President for it my self.

[In this time _Welborn_ kneels with _Olivia_; _Sir Rowland_ takes 'em up, and kisses 'em.

Sir _Morg._ Nay, if it be the Fas.h.i.+on, I'll e'en into the Country, and be merry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.

_Prince._ But now, Sir, I'll resign my Right to you, and content myself with the Honour to have preserv'd her from the Fire.

[_Prince_ delivers _Mirtilla_ to Sir _Morgan_, who receives her.