The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 327 : _Gay_. How, Sir! D'ye think my Devil of so little Quality, to suffer an Affront u

_Gay_. How, Sir! D'ye think my Devil of so little Quality, to suffer an Affront unrevenged?

_Bea_. Sir, I cry his Devils.h.i.+p's Pardon: I did not know his Quality. I protest, Sir, I love and honour him, but I am now just going to be married, Sir; and when that Ceremony's past, I'm ready to go to the Devil as soon as you please.

_Gay_. I have told him your Desire of seeing him, and shou'd you baffle him?

_Bea_. Who, I, Sir! Pray, let his Wors.h.i.+p know, I shall be proud of the Honour of his Acquaintance; but, Sir, my Mistress and the Parson wait in _Ned's_ Chamber.

_Gay_. If all the World wait, Sir, the Prince of h.e.l.l will stay for no Man.

_Bred_. Oh, Sir, rather than the Prince of the Infernals shall be affronted, I'll conduct the Lady up, and entertain her till you come, Sir.

_Bea_. Nay, I have a great mind to kiss his--Paw, Sir; but I cou'd wish you'd shew him me by day-light, Sir.

_Gay_. The Prince of Darkness does abhor the Light. But, Sir, I will for once allow your Friend the Captain to keep you company.

_Enter_ Noisey _and_ Diana.

_Bea_. I'm much oblig'd to you, Sir; oh, Captain-- [_Talks to him_.

_Bred_. Haste, Dear; the Parson waits, To finish what the Powers design'd above.

_Dia_. Sure nothing is so bold as Maids in Love! [_They go out_.

_Noi_. Psho! he conjure--he can flie as soon.

_Gay_. Gentlemen, you must be sure to confine your selves to this Circle, and have a care you neither swear, nor pray.

_Bea_. Pray, Sir! I dare say neither of us were ever that way gifted.

A horrid Noise.

_Gay_.

_Cease your Horror, cease your Haste.

And calmly as I saw you last, Appear! Appear!

By thy Pearls and Diamond Rocks, By thy heavy Money-Box, By thy s.h.i.+ning Petticoat, That hid thy cloven Feet from Note; By the Veil that hid thy Face, Which else had frighten'd humane Race_: [Soft Musick ceases.

_Appear, that I thy Love may see, Appear, kind Fiends, appear to me_.

A Pox of these Rascals, why come they not?

_Four enter from the four corners of the Stage, to Musick that plays; they dance, and in the Dance, dance round 'em, and kick, pinch, and beat 'em_.

_Bea_. Oh, enough, enough! Good Sir, lay 'em, and I'll pay the Musick--

_Gay_. I wonder at it--these Spirits are in their Nature kind, and peaceable--but you have basely injur'd some body--confess, and they will be satisfied--

_Bea_. Oh, good Sir, take your _Cerberuses_ off--I do confess, the Captain here, and I have violated your Fame.

_Noi_. Abus'd you,--and traduc'd you,--and thus we beg your pardon--

_Gay_. Abus'd me! 'Tis more than I know, Gentlemen.

_Bea_. But it seems your Friend the Devil does.

_Gay_. By this time _Bredwel's_ married.

--Great _Pantamogan_, hold, for I am satisfied, [_Ex. Devils_.

And thus undo my Charm-- [_Takes away the Circle, they run out_.

So, the Fools are going, and now to _Julia's_ Arms.

[_Going_.

SCENE IV. _Lady_ Fulbank's _Anti-chamber_.

_She discover'd undrest at her Gla.s.s; Sir_ Cautious _undrest_.

L. _Ful_. But why to Night? indeed you're wondrous kind methinks.

Sir _Cau_. Why, I don't know--a Wedding is a sort of an Alarm to Love; it calls up every Man's courage.

L. _Ful_. Ay, but will it come when 'tis call'd?

Sir _Cau_. I doubt you'll find it to my Grief-- [_Aside_.

--But I think 'tis all one to thee, thou car'st not for my Complement; no, thou'dst rather have a young Fellow.

L. _Ful_. I am not us'd to flatter much; if forty Years were taken from your Age, 'twou'd render you something more agreeable to my Bed, I must confess.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, ay, no doubt on't.

L. _Ful_. Yet you may take my word without an Oath, Were you as old as Time, and I were young and gay As _April_ Flowers, which all are fond to gather; My Beauties all should wither in the Shade, E'er I'd be worn in a dishonest Bosom.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but you're wondrous free methinks, sometimes, which gives shreud suspicions.

L. _Ful_. What, because I cannot simper, look demure, and justify my Honour, when none questions it?

--Cry fie, and out upon the naughty Women, Because they please themselves--and so wou'd I.

Sir _Cau_. How, wou'd, what cuckold me?

L. _Ful_. Yes, if it pleas'd me better than Vertue, Sir.

But I'll not change my Freedom and my Humour, To purchase the dull Fame of being honest.

Sir _Cau_. Ay, but the World, the World--

L. _Ful_. I value not the Censures of the Croud.

Sir _Cau_. But I am old.