The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 415 : _Wit._ Egad, I am i'th wrong, I see by _Lucia's_ Looks.Sir _Pat._ That you h

_Wit._ Egad, I am i'th wrong, I see by _Lucia's_ Looks.

Sir _Pat._ That you have, Sir, you wou'd say, made a Sport and May-game of the Ingagement of your Word; I take it, Mr. _Fainlove_, 'tis not like the Stock you come from.

_Wit._ Yes, I was like to have spoil'd all, 'sheart, what fine work I had made--but most certainly he has discover'd my Pa.s.sion for his Wife.--Well, Impudence a.s.sist me--I made, Sir, a trifle of my Word, Sir!

from whom have you this Intelligence?

Sir _Pat._ From whom shou'd I, Sir, but from my Daughter _Isabella_?

_Wit._ _Isabella!_ The malicious Baggage understood to whom my first Courts.h.i.+p was address'd last Night, and has betray'd me.

Sir _Pat._ And, Sir, to let you see I utter nothing without Precaution, pray read that Letter.

_Wit._ Hah--a Letter! what can this mean,--'tis _Lucia's_ Hand, with _Isabella's_ Name to't.--Oh, the dear cunning Creature, to make her Husband the Messenger too.--How, I send one in my room!

[He reads.

L. _Fan._ Yes, Sir, you think we do not know of the Appointment you made last Night; but having other Affairs in hand than to keep your Promise, you sent Mr. _Knowell_ in your room,--false Man.

_Wit._ I send him, Madam! I wou'd have sooner died.

Sir _Pat._ Sir, as I take it, he cou'd not have known of your Designs and Rendezvous without your Informations.--Were not you to have met my Daughter here to night, Sir?

_Wit._ Yes, Sir, and I hope 'tis no such great Crime, to desire a little Conversation with the fair Person one loves, and is so soon to marry, which I was hinder'd from doing by the greatest and most unlucky Misfortune that ever arriv'd: but for my sending him, Madam, credit me, nothing so much amazes me and afflicts me, as to know he was here.

Sir _Pat._ He speaks well, ingenuously, he does.--Well, Sir, for your Father's sake, whose Memory I reverence, I will for once forgive you.

But let's have no more Night-works, no more Gambols, I beseech you, good Mr. _Fainlove_.

_Wit._ I humbly thank ye, Sir, and do beseech you to tell the dear Creature that writ this, that I love her more than Life or Fortune, and that I wou'd sooner have kill'd the Man that usurp'd my place last Night, than have a.s.sisted him.

L. _Fan._ Were you not false, then?--Now hang me if I do not credit him.

[Aside.

Sir _Pat._ Alas, good Lady! how she's concern'd for my Interest, she's even jealous for my Daughter.

[Aside.

_Wit._ False! charge me not with unprofitable Sins; wou'd I refuse a Blessing, or blaspheme a Power that might undo me? wou'd I die in my full vigorous Health, or live in constant Pain? All this I cou'd, sooner than be untrue.

Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, my Lady _Fancy_, he speaks discreetly, and to purpose.

L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Dear, he does, and like an honest Gentleman: and I shou'd think my self very unreasonable not to believe him.--And, Sir, I'll undertake your Peace shall be made with your Mistress.

Sir _Pat._ Well, I am the most fortunate Man in a Wife, that ever had the blessing of a good one.

_Wit._ Madam, let me fall at your Feet, and thank you for this Bounty.--Make it your own case, and then consider what returns ought to be made to the most pa.s.sionate and faithful of Lovers.

[Kneels.

Sir _Pat._ I profess a wonderful good natur'd Youth, this; rise, Sir, my Lady _Fancy_ shall do you all the kind Offices she can, o' my word, she shall.

L. _Fan._ I'm all Obedience, Sir, and doubtless shall obey you.

Sir _Pat._ You must, indeed you must; and, Sir, I'll defer your Happiness no longer, this Day you shall be marry'd.

_Wit._ This Day, Sir!--why, the Writings are not made.

Sir _Pat._ No matter, Mr. _Fainlove_; her Portion shall be equivalent to the Jointure you shall make her, I take it, that's sufficient.

_Wit._ A Jointure, quoth he! it must be in new _Eutopian_ Land then.--And must I depart thus, without a kind Word, a Look, or a Billet, to signify what I am to expect.

[Looking on her slily.

Sir _Pat._ Come, my Lady _Fancy_, shall I wait on you down to Prayer!

Sir, you will get your self in order for your Marriage, the great Affair of human Life; I must to my Morning's Devotion: Come, Madam.

[She endeavours to make Signs to _Wittmore_.

L. _Fan._ Alas, Sir, the sad Discourse you lately made me, has so disorder'd me, and given me such a Pain in my Head, I am not able to endure the Psalm-singing.

Sir _Pat._ This comes of your Weeping; but we'll omit that part of th'

Exercise, and have no Psalm sung.

L. _Fan._ Oh, by no means, Sir, 'twill scandalize the Brethren; for you know a Psalm is not sung so much out of Devotion, as 'tis to give notice of our Zeal and pious Intentions: 'tis a kind of Proclamation to the Neighbourhood, and cannot be omitted.--Oh, how my Head aches!

_Wit._ He were a d.a.m.n'd dull Lover, that cou'd not guess what she meant by this.

[Aside.

Sir _Pat._ Well, my Lady _Fancy_, your Ladys.h.i.+p shall be obey'd,--come, Sir, we'll leave her to her Women. [Exit Sir _Pat._ [As _Wittmore_ goes out, he bows and looks on her; she gives him a Sign.

_Wit._ That kind Look is a sufficient Invitation. [Exit.

L. _Fan._ _Maundy_, follow 'em down, and bring _Wittmore_ back again.-- [Exit _Maun._] There's now a necessity of our contriving to avoid this Marriage handsomly,--and we shall at least make two Hours our own; I never wish'd well to long Prayers till this Minute.

Enter _Wittmore_.

_Wit._ Oh my dear _Lucia_!

L. _Fan._ Oh _Wittmore_! I long to tell thee what a fatal Mistake had like to have happened last Night.

_Wit._ My Friend has told me all, and how he was prevented by the coming of your Husband from robbing me of those sacred Delights I languish for.

Oh, let us not lose inestimable Time in dull talking; but haste to give each other the only Confirmation we can give, how little we are our own.

L. _Fan._ I see _Lodwick's_ a Man of Honour, and deserves a Heart if I had one to give him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Hall.

Enter Sir _Patient_ and _Roger_.

Sir _Pat._ _Roger_, is Prayer ready, _Roger_?