Imatges de pàgina
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you.

Dur. But, madam, I come to talk with
Bis. Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you dance,

-come.

Dur. But we were talking of dialectics

Bis. Hang dialectics![Music.] Mind the timequicker, sirrah!-Come-and how d'ye find yourself now, sir?

Dur. In a fine breathing sweat, doctor.

Bis. All the better, patient, all the better;-Come, sir, sing now, sing, I know you sing well: I see you have a singing face-a heavy, dull, sonata face. Dur. Who, I sing?

Bis. O you're modest, sir-but come, sit down closer-closer. Here, a bottle of wine! [Exit MAID, and returns with Wine.] Come, sir-sing, sir.

Dur. But, madam, I came to talk with you.

Bis. O sir, you shall drink first.-Come, fill me a bumper-Here, sir, bless the king!

Dur. 'Would I were out of his dominions!-By this light, she'll make me drunk too!

Bis. O pardon me, sir, you shall do me right-fill it higher. Now, sir, can you drink a health under your leg?

Dur. Rare philosophy that, 'faith!

Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom-Now, how d'ye like me, sir?

Dur. O, mighty well, madam!

Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies! sometimes, splenetic and heavy, then, gay and frolicsome. -And how d'ye like the humour?

Dur. Good madam, let me sit down to answer you, for I am heartily tired.

Bis. Fie upon't! a young man, and tired! up, for shame, and walk about!-Action becomes us—a little faster, sir.-What d'ye think now of my Lady La Pale, and Lady Coquet, the duke's fair daughter? Ha! Are they not brisk lasses? Then there is black Mrs Bellair, and brown Mrs Bellface!

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Dur. They are all strangers to me, madam.

Bis. But let me tell you, sir, that brown is not always despicable-O Lard, sir, if young Mrs Bagatell had kept herself single till this time o'day, what a beauty there had been! And then, you know the charming Mrs Monkeylove, the fair gem of St Germain's! Dur. Upon my soul, I don't!

Bis. And then you must have heard of the English beau, Spleenamore, how unlike a gentleman

Dur. Hey!-not a syllable on't, as I hope to be saved, madam!

Bis. No! Why, then, play me a jig;-[Music.]— Come, sir.

Dur. By this light, I cannot! 'faith, madam, I have sprained my leg!

Bis. Then sit you down, sir;-and now tell me what's your business with me? What's your errand ? Quick, quick, despatch!-Odso, may be, you are some gentleman's servant, that has brought me a letter, or a haunch of venison ?

Dur. 'Sdeath, madam, do I look like a carrier?

Bis. O, cry you mercy, I saw you just now; I mistook you, upon my word! you are one of the travelling gentlemen-and pray, sir, how do all our impudent friends in Italy?

Dur. Madam, I came to wait on you with a more serious intention than your entertainment has answered.

Bis. Sir, your intention of waiting on me was the greatest affront imaginable, however your expressions may turn it to a compliment: Your visit, sir, was intended as a prologue to a very scurvy play, of which Mr Mirabel and you so handsomely laid the plot.

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Marry! No, no, I am a man of more honour." Where's your honour? Where's your courage now? Ads my life, sir, I have a great mind to kick you!Go, go to your fellow-rake now, rail at my sex, and get drunk for vexation, and write a lampoon-But I

must have you to know, sir, that my reputation is above the scandal of a libel, my virtue is sufficiently approved to those whose opinion is my interest: : and, for the rest, let them talk what they will; for, when I please, I'll be what I please, in spite of you and all mankind; and so, my dear man of honour, if you be tired, con over this lesson, and sit there till I come to [Runs off. you.

Dur. Tum ti dum. [Sings.] Ha! ha! ha! " Ad's my life, I have a great mind to kick you!"-Oons and confusion! [Starts up.] Was ever man so abused! —Ay, Mirabel set me on.

Enter PETIT.

Petit. Well, sir, how d'ye find yourself?

Dur. You son of a nine-eyed whore, d'ye come to abuse me? I'll kick you with a vengeance, you dog! [PETIT runs off, and DURETETE after him,

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

OLD MIRABEL's House.

Enter OLD and YOUNG MIRABEL, meeting.

Old Mir. Bob, come hither, Bob.

Y. Mir. Your pleasure, sir?

Old Mir. Are not you a great rogue, sirrah?

Y. Mir. That's a little out of my comprehension, sir; for I've heard say, that I resemble my father.

Old Mir. Your father is your very humble slaveI tell thee what, child, thou art a very pretty fellow, and I love thee heartily; and a very great villain, and I hate thee mortally.

Y. Mir. Villain, sir! Then I must be a very impudent one; for I can't recollect any passage of my life that I'm ashamed of.

Old Mir. Come hither, my dear friend; dost see this picture? [Shews him a little Picture.

Y. Mir. Oriana's? Pshaw!

Old Mir. What, sir, won't you look upon't?-Bob, dear Bob, pr'ythee come hither now-Dost want any money, child?

Y. Mir. No, sir.

Old Mir. Why, then, here's some for thee: come here now-How canst thou be so hard-hearted an unnatural, unmannerly rascal, (don't mistake me, child, I a❜n't angry) as to abuse this tender, lovely, good-natured, dear rogue ?-Why, she sighs for thee, and cries for thee, pouts for thee, and snubs for thee; the poor little heart of it is like to burst- -Come, my dear boy, be goodnatured, like your own father; be now-and then see here, read this- -the effigies of the lovely Oriana, with thirty thousand pound to her portion-Thirty thousand pound, you dog! thirty thousand pound, you rogue! How dare you refuse a lady with thirty thousand pound, you impudent rascal?

Y. Mir. Will you hear me speak, sir?

Old Mir. Hear you speak, sir! If you had thirty thousand tongues, you could not out-talk thirty thousand pound, sir.

Y. Mir. Nay, sir, if you won't hear me, I'll begone, sir! I'll take post for Italy this moment.

Old Mir. Ah, the fellow knows I won't part with him! Well, sir, what have you to say?

Y. Mir. The universal reception, sir, that marriage has had in the world, is enough to fix it for a public good, and to draw every body into the common cause; but there are some constitutions, like some instruments, so peculiarly singular, that they make tolerable music by themselves, but never do well in a

concert.

Old Mir. Why, this is reason, I must confess, but yet it is nonsense too; for though you should reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of a good estate, you talk like a fool.

Y. Mir. But, sir, if you bribe me into bondage with the riches of Croesus, you leave me but a beggar, for want of my liberty.

Old Mir. Was ever such a perverse fool heard? 'Sdeath, sir! why did I give you education? was it to dispute me out of my senses? Of what colour, now, is the head of this cane? You'll say, 'tis white, and, ten to one, make me believe it too-I thought that young fellows studied to get money.

Y. Mir. No, sir, I have studied to despise it; my reading was not to make me rich, but happy, sir. Old Mir. There he has me again, now! But, sir, did not I marry to oblige you?

Y. Mir. To oblige me, sir! in what respect, pray Old Mir. Why, to bring you into the world, sir; wa'n't that an obligation?

Y. Mir And because I would have it still an obligation, I avoid marriage

Old Mir. How is that, sir?

Y. Mir. Because I would not curse the hour I was born.

Old Mir. Lookye, friend; you may persuade me out of my design, but I'll command you out of yours; and though you may convince my reason that you are in the right, yet there is an old attendant of sixty-three, called positiveness, which you, nor all the wits in Italy, shall ever be able to shake; so, sir,

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