Volume Ii Part 77 (1/2)

_Char_. Yet what art thou? a Stranger to my Heart. Wherefore, ah why, on what occasion shou'd I?

Mrs. _Clack_. Acquaintance, 'tis enough, I know him, Madam, and I hope my Word will be taken for a greater matter in the City: In troth you're beholden to the Gentleman for marrying you, your Reputation's gone.

_Char_. How, am I not honest then?

Mrs. _Clack_. Marry, Heaven forbid! But who that knows you have been a single Hour in _Wilding's_ Hands, wou'd not swear you have lost your Maidenhead? And back again I'm sure you dare not go unmarried; that wou'd be a fine History to be sung to your eternal Fame in a Ballad.

_Fop_. Right; and you see _Wilding_ has left you for the Widow, to whom perhaps you'll shortly hear he's married.

_Char_. Oh, you trifle, Sir; lead on.

[_They going out, meet Sir_ Anthony _with Musick: they return_.

Sir _Anth_. Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady's Bed-chamber: Come, come, let's have some neat, soft, brisk, languis.h.i.+ng, sprightly Air now.

_Fop_. Old Meriwill--how shall I pa.s.s by him!

[_Stand by_.

Sir _Anth_. So, here's Company too; 'tis very well--Not have the Boy?

I'll warrant this does the Business--Come, come, screw up your Chitterling.

[_They play_.

--Hold, hold a little--Good morrow, my Lady _Galliard_.

--Give your Ladys.h.i.+p Joy.

_Char_. What do I hear, my Lady _Galliard_ joy'd?

_Fop_. How, married her already?

_Char_. Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv'd my Faith?

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, Mr. _Foppington_, she faints.--ah me!

[_They hold her, Musick plays.

Enter_ Wilding _and_ Dresswell, _disguis'd as before_.

_Wild_. Ah, Musick at _Galliard's_ Door!

Sir _Anth_. Good morrow, Sir _Charles Meriwill_: give your Wors.h.i.+p and your fair Lady Joy.

_Wild_. Hah, Meriwill married the Widow!

_Dres_. No matter; prithee advance, and mind thy own Affairs.

_Wild_. Advance, and not inquire the meaning on't!

Bid me not eat, when Appet.i.te invites me; Not draw, when branded with the Name of Coward; Nor love, when Youth and Beauty meet my Eyes-- Hah!-- [_Sees Sir_ Charles _come into the Balcony undrest_.

Sir _Char_. Good morrow, Uncle. Gentlemen, I thank ye: Here, drink the King's Health, with my Royal Master's the Duke.

[_Gives 'em Money_.