That's an odd place for Love-Intrigues.
_Wild_. Oh, I am to pass for a sober, discreet Person to the Relations; but for my Mistress, she's made of no such sanctify'd Materials; she is a Widow, _Charles_, young, rich, and beautiful.
Sir _Char_. Hah! if this shou'd prove my Widow, now. [_Aside_.
_Wild_. And though at her own dispose, yet is much govern'd by Honour, and a rigid Mother, who is ever preaching to her against the Vices of Youth, and t'other end of the Town Sparks; dreads nothing so much as her Daughter's marrying a villanous Tory. So the young one is forc'd to dissemble Religion, the best Mask to hide a kind Mistress in.
Sir _Char_. This must be my Lady _Galliard_. [_Aside_.
_Wild_. There is at present some ill understanding between us; some damn'd Honourable Fop lays siege to her, which has made me ill received; and I having a new Intrigue elsewhere, return her cold Disdain, but now and then she crosses my Heart too violently to resist her. In one of these hot Fits I now am, and must find some occasion to speak to her.
Sir _Char_. By Heaven, it must be she--I am studying now, amongst all our She-Acquaintance, who this shou'd be.
_Wild_. Oh, this is of Quality to be conceal'd; but the dearest loveliest Hypocrite, white as Lillies, smooth as Rushes, and plump as Grapes after a Shower, haughty her Mein, her Eyes full of Disdain, and yet bewitching sweet; but when she loves soft, witty, wanton, all that charms a Soul, and but for now and then a fit of Honour, Oh, damn the Nonsense! wou'd be all my own.
Sir _Char_. 'Tis she, by Heaven! [_Aside_.]
Methinks this Widow shou'd prove a good Income to you, as things now stand between you and your Uncle.
_Wild_. Ah, _Charles_, but I am otherways dispos'd of. There is the most charming pretty thing in nature fallen in love with this Person of mine, a rich City-Heiress, _Charles_, and I have her in possession.
Sir _Char_. How can you love two at once? I've been as wild and as extravagant, as Youth and Wealth cou'd render me; but ne'er arrived to that degree of Leudness, to deal my Heart about: my Hours I might, but Love shou'd be intire.
_Wild_. Ah, _Charles_, two such bewitching Faces wou'd give thy Heart the lye:--But Love divides us, and I must into Church. Adieu till Night.
[_Exit_.
Sir _Char_. And I must follow, to resolve my Heart in what it dreads to learn. Here, my Cloke. [_Takes his Cloke from his Man, and puts it on_.]
Hah, Church is done! See, they are coming forth!
_Enter People cross the Stage, as from Church; amongst 'em Sir_ Anthony Meriwill, _follow'd by Sir_ Timothy Treat-all.
Hah, my Uncle! He must not see me here.
[_Throws his Cloke over his Face_.
Sir _Tim_. What my old Friend and Acquaintance, Sir Anthony Meriwill!
Sir _Anth_. Sir _Timothy Treat-all_!
Sir _Tim_. Why, how long have you been in Town, Sir?
Sir _Anth_. About three days, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. Three days, and never came to dine with me! 'tis unpardonable!
What, you keep close to the Church, I see: You are for the Surplice still, old Orthodox you; the Times cannot mend you, I see.
Sir _Anth_. No, nor shall they mar me, Sir.
Sir _Char_. They are discoursing; I'll pass by. [_Aside_.
[_Ex. Sir_ Charles.
Sir _Anth_. As I take it, you came from Church too.
Sir _Tim_. Ay, needs must when the Devil drives. I go to save my Bacon, as they say, once a Month, and that too after the Porridge is serv'd up.
Sir _Anth_. Those that made it, Sir, are wiser than we. For my part, I love good wholesom Doctrine, that teaches Obedience to the King and Superiors, without railing at the Government, and quoting Scripture for Sedition, Mutiny and Rebellion. Why here was a jolly Fellow this Morning made a notable Sermon. By George, our Country-Vicars are mere Scholars to your Gentlemen Town-Parsons! Hah, how he handled the Text, and run Divisions upon't! 'twould make a Man sin with moderation, to hear how he claw'd away the Vices of the Town, Whoring, Drinking, and Conventicling, with the rest of the deadly number.
Sir _Tim_. Good lack! an he were so good at Whoring and Drinking, you'd best carry your Nephew, Sir _Charles Meriwill_, to Church; he wants a little documentizing that way.
Sir _Anth_. Hum! you keep your old wont still; a Man can begin no Discourse to you, be it of Prester John, but you still conclude with my Nephew.
Sir _Tim_. Good Lord! Sir Anthony, you need not be so purty; what I say, is the Discourse of the whole City, how lavishly you let him live, and give ill Examples to all young Heirs.
Sir _Anth_. The City! The City's a grumbling, lying, dissatisfy'd City, and no wise or honest Man regards what it says. Do you, or any of the City, stand bound to his Scrivener or Taylor? He spends what I allow him, Sir, his own; and you're a Fool, or Knave, chuse ye whether, to concern your self.
Sir _Tim_. Good lack! I speak but what wiser Men discourse.
Sir _Anth_. Wiser Men! wiser Coxcombs. What, they wou'd have me train my Nephew up, a hopeful Youth, to keep a Merchant's Book, or send him to chop Logick in an University, and have him returned an arrant learned Ass, to simper, and look demure, and start at Oaths and Wenches, whilst I fell his Woods, and grant Leases: And lastly, to make good what I have cozen'd him of, force him to marry Mrs. Crump, the ill-favour'd Daughter of some Right Worshipful.--A Pox of all of such Guardians!
Sir _Tim_. Do, countenance Sin and Expenccs, do.
Sir _Anth_. What Sin, what Expences? He wears good Clothes, why, Trades-men get the more by him; he keeps his Coach, 'tis for his Ease; A Mistress, 'tis for his Pleasure; he games, 'tis for his Diversion: And where's the harm of this? is there ought else you can accuse him with?
Sir _Tim_. Yes,--a Pox upon him, he's my Rival too. [_Aside_.
Why then I'll tell you, Sir, he loves a Lady.
Sir _Anth_. If that be a Sin, Heaven help the Wicked!
Sir _Tim_. But I mean honourably--
Sir _Anth_. Honourably! why do you know any Infirmity in him, why he shou'd not marry? [_Angrily_.
Sir _Tim_. Not I, Sir.
Sir _Anth_. Not you, Sir? why then you're an Ass, Sir--But is this Lady young and handsom?
Sir _Tim_. Ay, and rich too, Sir.
Sir _Anth_. No matter for Money, so she love the Boy.
Sir _Tim_. Love him! No, Sir, she neither does, nor shall love him.
Sir _Anth_. How, Sir, nor shall love him! By _George_, but she shall, and lie with him too, if I please, Sir.
Sir _Tim_. How, Sir! lie with a rich City-Widow, and a Lady, and to be married to a fine Reverend old Gentleman within a day or two?
Sir _Anth_. His Name, Sir, his Name; I'll dispatch him presently.
[_Offers to draw_.
Sir _Tim_. How, Sir, dispatch him!--Your Servant, Sir.
[_Offers to go_.