Act 4 — SCENE changes into a Hall.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, the Chaplain and Servants, with Lord Foppington disarm'd.

Sir Tun. Come, bring him along, bring him along.

Lord Fop. What the Pax do you mean, Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before Dinner?

Sir Tun. Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.

Lord Fop. Strolers!

Sir Tun. Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself; what's your Name? where do you live? Do you pay Scot and Lot? Are you a Williamite, or a Jacobite? Come.

Lord Fop. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent Questions?

Sir Tun. Because I'll make you answer 'em before I have done with you, you Rascal you.

Lord Fop. Before Gad, all the Answer I can make thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old Fellow; stap my Vitals—

Sir Tun. Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants, we know how to deal with you: Here, draw a Warrant for him immediately.

Lord Fop. A Warrant——what the Devil is't thou wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?

Sir Tun. I wou'd be at you, Sirrah, (if my Hands were not ty'd as a Magistrate) and with these two double Fists beat your Teeth down your Throat, you Dog you.

Lord Fop. And why would'st thou spoil my Face at that rate?

Sir Tun. For your Design to rob me of my Daughter, Villain.

Lord Fop. Rab thee of thy Daughter——Now I do begin to believe I am a-bed and a-sleep, and that all this is but a Dream—If it be, 'twill be an agreeable Surprize enough, to waken by and by; and instead of the impertinent Company of a nasty Country Justice, find my self perhaps in the Arms of a Woman of Quality—[To Sir Tun.] Pr'ythee, old Father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one Question?

Sir Tun. I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.

Lord Fop. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington to come down and marry thy Daughter?

Sir Tun. Yes, marry did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my Daughter before she's a Day older.

Lord Fop. Now give me thy Hand, dear Dad, I thought we should understand one another at last.

Sir Tun. This Fellow's mad——here bind him Hand and Foot.

[They bind him down.

Lord Fop. Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy Jest begins to grow dull.

Sir Tun. Bind him, I say, he's mad——Bread and Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his Senses again.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.

Enter Miss and Nurse. [Miss going up to him.]

Miss. Is this he that wou'd have run away with me? Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] This must be my Wife by her natural Inclination to her Husband.

Miss. Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with him? hang him?

Sir Tun. That at least, Child.

Nurse. Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Madame la Governante, I presume, hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary Families that ever Man of Quality match'd into.

Sir Tun. What's become of my Lord, Daughter?

Miss. He's just coming, Sir.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] My Lord——What does he mean by that now?

Enter Young Fashion and Lory.

Seeing him.] Stap my Vitals, Tam, now the Dream's out.

Young Fash. Is this the Fellow, Sir, that design'd to trick me of your Daughter?

Sir Tun. This is he, my Lord, how do you like him? Is not he a pretty Fellow to get a Fortune?

Young Fash. I find by his Dress, he thought your Daughter might be taken with a Beau.

Miss. O Gemini! Is this a Beau? let me see him again——ha! I find a Beau is no such ugly thing neither.

Young Fash. I'gad, she'll be in love with him presently; I'll e'en have him sent away to Gaol. [To Lord Fop.] Sir, tho' your Undertaking shews you are a Person of no extraordinary Modesty, I suppose you han't Confidence enough to expect much Favour from me.

Lord Fop. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent Fellow.

Nurse. Look if the Varlet has not the Frontery to call his Lordship plain Thomas.

Bull. The business is, he wou'd feign himself mad, to avoid going to Gaol.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] That must be the Chaplain, by his unfolding of Mysteries.

Sir Tun. Come, is the Warrant writ?

Cler. Yes, Sir.

Sir Tun. Give me the Pen, I'll sign it——So now, Constable, away with him.

Lord Fop. Hold one Moment——Pray, Gentlemen; my Lord Foppington, shall I beg one Word with your Lordship?

Nurse. O ho, it's my Lord with him now; see how Afflictions will humble Folks.

Miss. Pray, my Lord, don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your Ear off.

Lord Fop.. I am not altogether so hungry, as your Ladyship is pleased to imagine. [To Young Fash.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forget what's past, and accept of the five thousand Pounds I offer; thou may'st live in extreme Splendor with it; stap my Vitals.

Young Fash. It's a much easier matter to prevent a Disease than to cure it; a quarter of that Sum would have secur'd your Mistress; twice as much won't redeem her.

[Leaving him.

Sir Tun. Well, what says he?

Young Fash. Only the Rascal offer'd me a Bribe to let him go.

Sir Tun. Ay, he shall go, with a Pox to him: Lead on, Constable.

Lord Fop.. One word more, and I've done.

Sir Tun. Before Gad, thou art an impudent Fellow, to trouble the Court at this rate, after thou art condemned; but speak once for all.

Lord Fop. Why then once for all; I have at last luckily call'd to mind, that there is a Gentleman of this Country, who I believe cannot live far from this place, if he were here, would satisfy you, I am Novelty, Baron of Foppington, with five thousand Pounds a year, and that Fellow there a Rascal, not worth a Groat.

Sir Tun. Very well; now who is this honest Gentleman you are so well acquainted with. [To Young Fash.] Come, Sir, we shall hamper him.

Lord Fop. 'Tis Sir John Friendly.

Sir Tun. So, he lives within half a Mile, and came down into the Country but last Night; this bold-fac'd Fellow thought he had been at London still, and so quoted him; now we shall display him in his Colours: I'll send for Sir John immediately. Here, Fellow, away presently; and desire my Neighbour he'll do me the favour to step over, upon an extraordinary Occasion; and in the mean while you had best secure this Sharper in the Gate-House.

Const. An't please your Worship, he may chance to give us the Slip thence: If I were worthy to advise, I think the Dog-kennel's a surer Place.

Sir Tun. With all my heart, anywhere.

Lord Fop. Nay, for Heaven's sake, Sir, do me the favour to put me in a clean Room, that I mayn't daub my Clothes.

Sir Tun. O when you have married my Daughter, her Estate will afford you new ones: Away with him.

Lord Fop. A dirty Country Justice is a barbarous Magistrate, stap my Vitals——

[Exit Constable with Lord Foppington.

Young Fash. [Aside.] I gad I must prevent this Knight's coming, or the House will grow soon too hot to hold me.

To Sir Tun.] Sir, I fancy 'tis not worth while to trouble Sir John upon this impertinent Fellow's Desire: I'll send and call the Messenger back——

Sir Tun. Nay, with all my heart; for to be sure he thought he was far enough off, or the Rogue wou'd never have nam'd him.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, I met Sir John just lighting at the Gate; he's come to wait upon you.

Sir Tun. Nay, then it happens as one cou'd wish.

Young Fash. [Aside.] The Devil it does! Lory, you see how things are, here will be a Discovery presently, and we shall have our Brains beat out: For my Brother will be sure to swear he don't know me: Therefore run into the Stable, take the two first Horses you can light on, I'll slip out at the Back-Door, and we'll away immediately.

Lo. What, and leave your Lady, Sir?

Young Fash. There's no Danger in that, as long as I have taken possession; I shall know how to treat with them well enough, if once I am out of their reach. Away, I'll steal after thee.

[Exit Lory, his Master follows him out at one Door, as Sir John enters at t'other.

Enter Sir John.

Sir Tun. Sir John, you are the welcom'st Man alive; I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon a very extraordinary Occasion—we are all in Arms here.

Sir John. How so?

Sir Tun. Why, you must know——a sinical sort of a tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is, not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded between my Lord Foppington and my Girl Hoyden, comes impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat, strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.

Sir John. So, but how do you know but this was my Lord? for I was told he set out from London the Day before me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come directly hither.

Sir Tun. Why now to shew you how many Lies People raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet; this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country, quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you were here, you'd justify him to be Lord Foppington, and I know not what.

Sir John. Pray will you let me see him?

Sir Tun. Ay, that you shall presently——here, fetch the Prisoner.

[Exit Servant.

Sir John. I wish there ben't some Mistake in the Business, where's my Lord? I know him very well.

Sir Tun. He was here just now; see for him, Doctor, tell him Sir John is here to wait upon him.

[Ex. Chaplain.

Sir John. I hope, Sir Tunbelly, the young Lady is not married yet.

Sir Tun. No, things won't be ready this Week; but why do you say, you hope she is not married?

Sir John. Some foolish Fancies only, perhaps I'm mistaken.

Re-enter Chaplain.

Bull. Sir, his Lordship is just rid out to take the Air.

Sir Tun. To take the Air! Is that his London Breeding, to go to take the Air, when Gentlemen come to visit him?

Sir John. 'Tis possible he might want it, he might not be well, some sudden Qualm perhaps.

Enter Constable, &c. with Lord Foppington.

Lord Fop. Stap my Vitals, I'll have Satisfaction.

Sir John. [Running to him.] My dear Lord Foppington!

Lord Fop. Dear Friendly, thou art come in the critical Minute, strike me dumb.

Sir John. Why, I little thought to have found you in Fetters.

Lord Fop. Why truly the World must do me the justice to confess, I do use to appear, a little more degagé: But this old Gentleman, not liking the Freedom of my Air, has been pleased to skewer down my Arms like a Rabbit.

Sir Tun. Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true Lord Foppington at last?

Lord Fop. Why what do you see in his Face to make you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you would not think it impossible a Person of a worse Taille than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality.

Sir Tun. Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue this Tartar, bring him back——Away, I say, a Dog, Oons——I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head——and——what shall I do more?

Sir John. He does indeed deserve to be made an Example of.

Lord Fop. He does deserve to be chartrè, stap my Vitals.

Sir Tun. May I then hope I have your Honour's Pardon?

Lord Fop. Sir, we Courtiers do nothing without a Bribe; that fair young Lady might do Miracles.

Sir Tun. Hoyden, come hither, Hoyden.

Lord Fop. Hoyden is her Name, Sir?

Sir Tun. Yes, my Lord.

Lord Fop. The prettiest Name for a Song I ever heard.

Sir Tun. My Lord——here's my Girl, she's yours, she has a wholesome Body, and virtuous Mind; she's a Woman complete, both in Flesh and in Spirit; she has a Bag of mill'd Crowns, as scarce as they are, and fifteen hundred a-year flitch'd fast to her Tail: so go thy ways, Hoyden.

Lord Fop. Sir, I do receive her like a Gentleman.

Sir Tun. Then I'm a happy Man, I bless Heaven, and if your Lordship will give me leave, I will, like a good Christian at Christmas, be very drunk by way of Thanksgiving. Come, my noble Peer, I believe Dinner's ready; if your Honour pleases to follow me, I'll lead you on to the Attack of a Venison Pasty.

[Exit Sir Tun.

Lord Fop. Sir, I wait upon you: Will your Ladyship do me the favour of your little Finger, Madam?

Miss. My Lord, I'll follow you presently. I have a little Business with my Nurse.

Lord Fop. Your Ladyship's most humble Servant; come, Sir John, the Ladies have des Affaires.

[Exeunt Lord Fop. and Sir John.

Miss. So, Nurse, we are finely brought to bed! What shall we do now?

Nurse. Ah, dear Miss, we are all undone! Mr. Bull, you were us'd to help a Woman to a Remedy.

[Crying.

Bull. A lack a-day, but it's past my Skill now, I can do nothing.

Nurse. Who wou'd have thought that ever your Invention shou'd have been drain'd so dry?

Miss. Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and now I'm sure they are so; I have found a way myself to secure us all.

Nurse. Dear Lady, what's that?

Miss. Why, if you two will be sure to hold your Tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this Lord too.

Nurse. What! two Husbands, my Dear?

Miss. Why you had three, good Nurse, you may hold your Tongue.

Nurse. Ay, but not all together, sweet Child.

Miss. Psha, if you had, you'd ne'er thought much on't.

Nurse. O but 'tis a Sin—Sweeting.

Bull. Nay, that's my business to speak to, Nurse. I do confess, to take two Husbands for the Satisfaction of the Flesh, is to commit the Sin of Exorbitancy; but to do it for the Peace of the Spirit, is no more than to be drunk by way of Physick: Besides, to prevent a Parent's Wrath, is to avoid the Sin of Disobedience; for when the Parent's angry the Child is froward. So that upon the whole Matter, I do think, tho' Miss shou'd marry again, she may be sav'd.

Miss. I'cod, and I will marry again then, and so there is an end of the Story.

[Exeunt.