Volume Ii Part 72 (1/2)

Sir _Char_. Hah, Gad, 'twas a Spark!--What, vanisht! hah--

Sir _Anth_. Nay, nay, Sir, I am for ye.

Sir _Char_. Are you so, Sir? and I am for the Widow, Sir, and--

[_Just as they are pa.s.sing at each other_, Closet _enters with a Candle_.

Hah, why, what have we here?--my nown Flesh and Blood?

[_Embracing his Uncle_.

Sir _Anth_. Cry mercy, Sir! Pray, how fell we out?

Sir _Char_. Out, Sir! Prithee where's my Rival? where's the Spark, the-- Gad, I took thee for an errant Rival: Where is he?

[_Searching about_.

L. _Gal_. Whom seek ye, Sir, a Man, and in my Lodgings?

[_Angrily_.

_Clos_. A Man! Merciful, what will this scandalous lying World come to?

Here's no Man.

Sir _Char_. Away, I say, thou d.a.m.n'd Domestick Intelligence, that comest out every half hour with some fresh Sham--No Man!--What, 'twas an Appointment only, hum,--which I shall now make bold to unappoint, render null, void, and of none effect. And if I find him here, [_Searches about_.] I shall very civilly and accidentally, as it were, being in perfect friends.h.i.+p with him--pray, mark that--run him through the Lungs.

L. _Gal_. Oh, whata Coward's Guilt! what mean you, Sir?

Sir _Char_. Mean? why I am obstinately bent to ravish thee, thou hypocritical Widow, make thee mine by force, that so I have no obligation to thee, and consequently use thee scurvily with a good Conscience.

Sir _Anth_. A most delicate Boy! I'll warrant him as lend as the best of'em, G.o.d grant him Life and Health. [Aside.

L. _Gal_. 'Tis late, and I entreat your absence, Sir: These are my Hours of Prayer, which this unseasonable Visit has disturb'd.

Sir _Char_. Prayer! No more of that, Sweetheart; for let me tell you, your Prayers are heard. A Widow of your Youth and Complexion can be praying for nothing so late, but a good Husband; and see, Heaven has sent him just in the crit--critical minute, to supply your Occasions.

Sir _Anth_. A Wag, an arch Wag; he'll learn to make Lampoons presently.

I'll not give Sixpence from him, though to the poor of the Parish.

Sir _Char_. Come, Widow, let's to Bed.

[Pulls her, she is angry.

L. _Gal_. Hold, Sir, you drive the Jest too far; And I am in no humour now for Mirth.

Sir _Char_. Jest: Gad, ye lye, I was never in more earnest in all my Life.

Sir _Anth_. He's in a heavenly humour, thanks to good Wine, good Counsel, and good Company.

[_Getting nearer the Door still_.

L. _Gal_. What mean you, Sir? what can my Woman think to see me treated thus?

Sir _Char_. Well thought on! Nay, we'll do things decently, d'ye see-- Therefore, thou sometimes necessary Utensil, withdraw.

[_Gives her to Sir_ Anth.