Volume Ii Part 52 (1/2)

That's an odd place for Love-Intrigues.

_Wild_. Oh, I am to pa.s.s for a sober, discreet Person to the Relations; but for my Mistress, she's made of no such sanctify'd Materials; she is a Widow, _Charles_, young, rich, and beautiful.

Sir _Char_. Hah! if this shou'd prove my Widow, now. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. And though at her own dispose, yet is much govern'd by Honour, and a rigid Mother, who is ever preaching to her against the Vices of Youth, and t'other end of the Town Sparks; dreads nothing so much as her Daughter's marrying a villanous Tory. So the young one is forc'd to dissemble Religion, the best Mask to hide a kind Mistress in.

Sir _Char_. This must be my Lady _Galliard_. [_Aside_.

_Wild_. There is at present some ill understanding between us; some d.a.m.n'd Honourable Fop lays siege to her, which has made me ill received; and I having a new Intrigue elsewhere, return her cold Disdain, but now and then she crosses my Heart too violently to resist her. In one of these hot Fits I now am, and must find some occasion to speak to her.

Sir _Char_. By Heaven, it must be she--I am studying now, amongst all our She-Acquaintance, who this shou'd be.

_Wild_. Oh, this is of Quality to be conceal'd; but the dearest loveliest Hypocrite, white as Lillies, smooth as Rushes, and plump as Grapes after a Shower, haughty her Mein, her Eyes full of Disdain, and yet bewitching sweet; but when she loves soft, witty, wanton, all that charms a Soul, and but for now and then a fit of Honour, Oh, d.a.m.n the Nonsense! wou'd be all my own.

Sir _Char_. 'Tis she, by Heaven! [_Aside_.]

Methinks this Widow shou'd prove a good Income to you, as things now stand between you and your Uncle.

_Wild_. Ah, _Charles_, but I am otherways dispos'd of. There is the most charming pretty thing in nature fallen in love with this Person of mine, a rich City-Heiress, _Charles_, and I have her in possession.

Sir _Char_. How can you love two at once? I've been as wild and as extravagant, as Youth and Wealth cou'd render me; but ne'er arrived to that degree of Leudness, to deal my Heart about: my Hours I might, but Love shou'd be intire.

_Wild_. Ah, _Charles_, two such bewitching Faces wou'd give thy Heart the lye:--But Love divides us, and I must into Church. Adieu till Night.

[_Exit_.

Sir _Char_. And I must follow, to resolve my Heart in what it dreads to learn. Here, my Cloke. [_Takes his Cloke from his Man, and puts it on_.]

Hah, Church is done! See, they are coming forth!

_Enter People cross the Stage, as from Church; amongst 'em Sir_ Anthony Meriwill, _follow'd by Sir_ Timothy Treat-all.

Hah, my Uncle! He must not see me here.

[_Throws his Cloke over his Face_.

Sir _Tim_. What my old Friend and Acquaintance, Sir Anthony Meriwill!

Sir _Anth_. Sir _Timothy Treat-all_!

Sir _Tim_. Why, how long have you been in Town, Sir?

Sir _Anth_. About three days, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Three days, and never came to dine with me! 'tis unpardonable!

What, you keep close to the Church, I see: You are for the Surplice still, old Orthodox you; the Times cannot mend you, I see.

Sir _Anth_. No, nor shall they mar me, Sir.

Sir _Char_. They are discoursing; I'll pa.s.s by. [_Aside_.

[_Ex. Sir_ Charles.