Act 4 — Scene III. Changes to Lady Youthly’s.
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Scene III. Changes to Lady Youthly’s.
Enter Sir Rowland half dress’d, Lady Blunder in an Undress, Lady Youthly in her morning-dress, Teresia and Mr. Twang.
Sir Row. Morrow, my Lady Youthly, and thank you for my Night’s Lodging—You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
L. Youth. Truly, Sir Rowland, that I intend.
Sir Row. But where’s the Bride-groom, Madam?
Enter Roger.
How now, Roger, what, no news yet of George?
Rog. Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
Sir Row. Rubbish—What—what, is George become the Rubbish of the World then? Weeps.
Twang. Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.
L. Blun. But are you sure, Roger, my Jewel, my Sir Moggy escap’d?
Rog. The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.
L. Youth. How, Mr. Twang, the young Gentleman burnt—Oh— Falls in a Chair.
Ter. Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.—Good Sir Rowland, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.
Sir Row. Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so— Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady Youthly.
L. Youth. How! the House fell on him—Oh!
Sir Row. Ah, Madam, that’s all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like an Elephant—’twill bear a Castle, Madam.
L. Youth. Alas, good Man: What a Mercy ’tis, Mr. Twang, to have a Back like an Elephant!
L. Blun. Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion—
Sir Row. Ay—but—but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast. Weeps.
Twang. Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady—Consider Man’s a Flower—
Sir Row. Ay, but George was such a Flower! He was, Mr. Twang, he was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he wou’d have made! And what a swinging Sheriff— Cries.
Ter. What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?
Sir Row. Well, if he be gone—Peace be with him: and, ’Ifaks, Sweet-heart, we’ll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters—but—but I shall ne’er beget another George. Cries.
Ter. This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.
Sir Row. Alas! Mrs. Teresia, my Instrument is untun’d, and good for nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.
Cry within. Murder, Murder, Murder!
Enter Footman. Sir Merlin with his Sword drawn, and Sir Morgan.
Sir Row. What’s here, my Rogue?
Twang. What’s the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this hostile manner?
Sir Morg. What, Mr. Twang, de see!
Sir Mer. Ay, ay—stand by Divinity—and know, that we, the Pillars of the Nation, are come, de see—to ravish.
L. Blun. Oh, my dear Sir Morgan. Embraces him.
Sir Morg. I do not intend to ravish, like a Jew, in my own Tribe—
L. Youth. What say they, Mr. Twang, ravish? Oh, save my Honour—lead me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come upon their Peril. Twang leads her out. Sir Morgan goes to Ter.
Sir Mer. Old Fellow, do’st hear? Sir Pandarus of Troy, deliver me my Cressida, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off Vi & Armis.
L. Blun. Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.
Sir Mer. Ha—Old Queen Gwiniver, without her Ruff on?
Sir Merlin takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out: Sir Rowland draws upon him. As they are going to fight, George enters.
Geo. Is there a Man in Nature’s Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand against his Father?
Sir Mer. Father me no Fathers; I fight for Teresia, my lawfully begotten Spouse.
Geo. That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign your Sword here at his reverend Feet.
Sir Mer. Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah—
Geo. There, drag away this Brute. Disarms him. To the Footman.
Sir Mer. Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. Teresia along with you.
Ter. Sure this is my fine Fellow—and yet the very same that’s to be married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman. George speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.
Sir Morg. Burnt, say you, Mrs. Teresia, de see—my Lady Mirtilla burnt! Nay, then, ’tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again. Goes out.
Sir Row. Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv’st my whole Estate, and thou shalt have it, Boy—This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her Grand-child. I’ll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly. Goes out.
Geo. How, marry to day—Old Gentleman, you must be cozen’d; and, Faith, that goes against my Conscience—Ha, the Fair, the Young Teresia there—When a man’s bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou’d be in my way now—Fair Creature, are you resolv’d to be my Mother-in-law?
Ter. As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir—And see—the News of your being come, has rais’d my Grandmother.
Enter Lettice, my Lady’s maid, and Lady Youthly.
Geo. A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.
Ter. I cou’d have spar’d her now too; but see she advances as swift as Time.
Geo. And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you—
L. Youth. Where—where’s this Young Welcome Gentleman—Oh, are you here, Sir— She sees him not, but runs upon him.
Lettice, take Teresia, and get you to your Chamber, she has her Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we’ll make but one work of both.
Ter. Ay, ’twill save Charges, Madam—
L. Youth. Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou’d be private.
Geo. Heark ye—leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I’ll follow you to your Chamber.
Ter. Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of my mind, for I find there’s no dallying.
L. Youth. Well, Sir, I have finish’d the Great Work.
Geo. I wish you had—Teresia, once you made me hope you did not hate me.
L. Youth. What says he, Teresia?
Ter. He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.
L. Youth. No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not felt before.
Geo. Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear—You have too much Wit, Teresia, to have been only pleas’d with the Embroider’d Coat, and Gawdy Plume, when still the man’s the same.
L. Youth. What says he, Embroider’d Coat and Plume?
Ter. He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne’er the worse, for being without those Fopperies.
L. Youth. Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband; those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind their Wives.
Geo. Are you so dull, Teresia, not to see, this Habit was put on, only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?
L. Youth. Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young Man—Well, well, I’ll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make you happy, Mr. Twang shall join us, Sir.
Geo. A blessed hearing—You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space there is between this and the hast’ning hour; stand not on Virgin Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.
Ter. I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that was the first moment I saw you at the Basset-Table.
Geo. Ha! at the Basset-Table!
Ter. Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money—but no more—your Time and Place.
L. Youth. What are you prating to him there?
Ter. He doubts your Love, Madam, and I’m confirming it.
L. Youth. Alas, good Gentleman!—anon I’ll convince him—for in the Ev’ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
Geo. Ah, Madam, I cou’d wish ’twere not so long defer’d, for sure I love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here prepar’d an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion is sincere.
L. Youth. Good-lack-a-day, indeed you’re so obliging: But pray let us have the Dance. Dance.
L. Youth. Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don’t droop, don’t droop; come, hold up your Head—you may be allow’d one kiss beforehand.
Geo. Kisses her. Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there! Aside.
L. Youth. Come, come, Teresia, come with me.
Geo. to Teresia. I’ll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint. Get ready instantly.
Ter. And if I fail, may I be eternally damn’d to the Embraces of old Age.
Exeunt all but George.
Geo. Mirtilla, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father the kind Cheat forgive;
If I with dexterous charitable care
Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear. Exit.