Volume Iii Part 3 (1/2)

Sir _Tim_. Can you love?

_Cel_. Oh, yes, Sir, many things; I love my Meat, I love abundance of Adorers, I love choice of new Clothes, new Plays; and, like a right Woman, I love to have my Will.

Sir _Tim_. Spoke like a well-bred Person, by Fortune: I see there's hopes of thee, Celinda; thou wilt in time learn to make a very fas.h.i.+onable Wife, having so much Beauty too. I see Attracts, and Allurements, wanton Eyes, the languis.h.i.+ng turn of the Head, and all That invites to Temptation.

_Cel_. Would that please you in a Wife?

Sir _Tim_. Please me! Why, Madam, what do you take me to be? a Sot?-- a Fool?--or a dull _Italian_ of the Humour of your Brother?--No, no, I can a.s.sure you, she that marries me, shall have Franchise--But, my pretty Miss, you must learn to talk a little more--

_Cel_. I have not Wit, and Sense enough, for that.

Sir _Tim_. Wit! Oh la, O la, Wit! as if there were any Wit requir'd in a Woman when she talks; no, no matter for Wit, or Sense: talk but loud, and a great deal to shew your white Teeth, and smile, and be very confident, and 'tis enough--Lord, what a Sight 'tis to see a pretty Woman Stand right up an end in the middle of a Room, playing with her Fan, for want of something to keep her in Countenance. No, she that is mine, I will teach to entertain at another rate.

_Nur_. How, Sir? Why, what do you take my young Mistress to be?

Sir _Tim_. A Woman--and a fine one, and so fine as she ought to permit her self to be seen, and be ador'd.

_Nur_. Out upon you, would you expose your Wife? by my troth, and I were she, I know what I wou'd do--

Sir _Tim_. Thou do--what thou wouldst have done sixty Years ago, thou meanest.

_Nur_. Marry come up, for a stinking Knight; worse than I have gone down with you, e'er now--Sixty Years ago, quoth ye--As old as I am-- I live without Surgeons, wear my own Hair, am not in Debt to my Taylor, as thou art, and art fain to kiss his Wife, to persuade her Husband to be merciful to thee--who wakes thee every Morning with his Clamour and long Bills, at thy Chamber-door.

Sir _Tim_. Prithee, good Matron, Peace; I'll compound with thee.

_Nur_. 'Tis more than thou wilt do with thy Creditors, who, poor Souls, despair of a Groat in the Pound for all thou ow'st them, for Points, Lace, and Garniture--for all, in fine, that makes thee a complete Fop.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, hold thy eternal Clack.

_Nur_. And when none would trust thee farther, give Judgments for twice the Money thou borrowest, and swear thy self at Age; and lastly--to patch up your broken Fortune, you wou'd fain marry my sweet Mistress _Celinda_ here--But, Faith, Sir, you're mistaken, her Fortune shall not go to the Maintenance of your Misses; which being once sure of, she, poor Soul, is sent down to the Country-house, to learn Housewifery, and live without Mankind, unless she can serve her self with the handsom Steward, or so--whilst you tear it away in Town, and live like Man and Wife with your Jilt, and are every Day seen in the Gla.s.s Coach, whilst your own natural Lady is hardly worth the Hire of a Hack.

Sir _Tim_. Why, thou d.a.m.nable confounded Torment, wilt thou never cease?

_Nur_. No, not till you raise your Siege, and be gone; go march to your Lady of Love, and Debauch--go--You get no _Celinda_ here.

Sir _Tim_. The Devil's in her Tongue.

_Cel_. Good gentle Nurse, have Mercy upon the poor Knight.

_Nur_. No more, Mistress, than he'll have on you, if Heaven had so abandon'd you, to put you into his Power--Mercy--quoth ye--no--, no more than his Mistress will have, when all his Money's gone.

Sir _Tim_. Will she never end?

_Cel_. Prithee forbear.

_Nur_. No more than the Usurer would, to whom he has mortgag'd the best part of his Estate, would forbear a Day after the promis'd Payment of the Money. Forbear!--

Sir _Tim_. Not yet end! Can I, Madam, give you a greater Proof of my Pa.s.sion for you, than to endure this for your sake?

_Nur_. This--thou art so sorry a Creature, thou wilt endure any thing for the lucre of her Fortune; 'tis that thou hast a Pa.s.sion for: not that thou carest for Money, but to sacrifice to thy Leudness, to purchase a Mistress, to purchase the Reputation of as errant a Fool as ever arriv'd at the Honour of keeping; to purchase a little Grandeur, as you call it; that is, to make every one look at thee, and consider what a Fool thou art, who else might pa.s.s unregarded amongst the common Croud.