The Works of Aphra Behn
Chapter 192 : Sir _Anth_. Obedience! Was ever such a Blockhead! Why then, if I command it, you will

Sir _Anth_. Obedience! Was ever such a Blockhead! Why then, if I command it, you will not love this Woman?

Sir _Char_. No, Sir.

Sir _Anth_. No, Sir! But I say, Yes, Sir, love her me; and love her me like a Man too, or I'll renounce ye, Sir.

Sir _Char_. I've try'd all ways to win upon her Heart, Presented, writ, watcht, fought, pray'd, kneel'd, and wept.

Sir _Anth_. Why, there's it now; I thought so: kneel'd and wept! a Pox upon thee--I took thee for a prettier Fellow-- You shou'd have huft and bl.u.s.ter'd at her door, Been very impudent and saucy, Sir, Leud, ruffling, mad; courted at all hours and seasons; Let her not rest, nor eat, nor sleep, nor visit.

Believe me, _Charles_, Women love Importunity.

Watch her close, watch her like a Witch, Boy, Till she confess the Devil in her,--Love.

Sir _Char_. I cannot, Sir, Her Eyes strike such an awe into my Soul--

Sir _Anth_. Strike such a Fiddle-stick.--Sirrah, I say, do't; what, you can towse a Wench as handsomely--You can be leud enough upon occasion. I know not the Lady, nor her Fortune; but I'm resolv'd thou shalt have her, with practising a little Courts.h.i.+p of my Mode.--Come--Come, my Boy _Charles_, since thou must needs be doing, I'll shew thee how to go a Widow-wooing.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _A Room_.

_Enter_ Charlot, Foppington, _and_ Clacket.

_Charl_. Enough, I've heard enough of _Wilding's_ Vices, to know I am undone.

[_Weeps_.

--_Galliard_ his Mistress too? I never saw her, but I have heard her fam'd for Beauty, Wit, and Fortune: That Rival may be dangerous.

_Fop_. Yes, Madam, the fair, the young, the witty Lady _Galliard_, even in the height of his Love to you; nay, even whilst his Uncle courts her for a Wife, he designs himself for a Gallant.

_Charl_. Wondrous Inconstancy and Impudence!

Mrs. _Clack_. Nay, Madam, you may rely upon Mr. _Foppington's_ Information; therefore if you respect your Reputation, retreat in time.

_Charl_. Reputation! that I forfeited when I ran away with your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Ah, that ever I shou'd live to see [_Weeps_]

the sole Daughter and Heir of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, ran away with one of the leudest Heathens about Town!

_Charl_. How, your Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, a Heathen; and with you too, Mrs. _Clacket_! that Friend, Mr. _Wilding_, who thought none so worthy as Mrs. _Clacket_, to trust with so great a Secret as his flight with me; he a Heathen!

Mrs. _Clack_. Ay, and a poor Heathen too, Madam. 'Slife, if you must marry a Man to buy him Breeches, marry an honest Man, a Religious Man, a Man that bears a Conscience, and will do a Woman some Reason--Why, here's Mr. _Foppington_, Madam; here's a Shape, here's a Face, a Back as strait as an Arrow, I'll warrant.

_Charl_. How! buy him Breeches! Has _Wilding_ then no Fortune?

_Fop_. Yes, Faith, Madam, pretty well; so, so, as the Dice run; and now and then he lights upon a Squire, or so, and between fair and foul Play, he makes a s.h.i.+ft to pick a pretty Livelihood up.

_Charl_. How! does his Uncle allow him no present Maintenance?

_Fop_. No, nor future Hopes neither: Therefore, Madam, I hope you will see the Difference between him and a Man of Parts, that adores you.

[Smiling and bowing.

_Charl_. If I find all this true you tell me, I shall know how to value my self and those that love me.--This may be yet a Rascal.

_Enter Maid_.

_Maid_. Mistress, Mr. _Wilding's_ below.

[_Exit_.

_Fop_. Below! Oh, Heaven, Madam, do not expose me to his Fury, for being too zealous in your Service.

[_In great Disorder_.

_Charl_. I will not let him know you told any thing, Sir.

_Fop_. Death! to be seen here, would expose my Life.

[_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. Here, here, step out upon the Stair-case, and slip into my Chamber.

[_Going out, returns in fright_.

_Fop_. Owns, he's here; lock the Door fast; let him not enter.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, I have not the Key! hold it, hold it fast, sweet, sweet Mr. _Foppington_. Oh, should there be Murder done, what a Scandal wou'd that be to the House of a true Protestant!

[_Knocks_.

_Charl_. Heavens! what will he say or think, to see me shut in with a Man?

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, I'll say you're sick, asleep, or out of Humour.

_Charl_. I'd give the World to see him. [_Knocks_.

_Wild_. [_Without_,] _Charlot, Charlot_! am I deny'd an entrance? By Heaven, I'll break the Door.

[_Knocks again_; Fop. _still holding it_.

_Fop_. Oh, I'm a dead Man, dear Clacket! [_Knocking still_.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, hold, Sir, Mrs. _Charlot_ is very sick.

_Wild_. How, sick, and I kept from her!

Mrs. _Clack_. She begs you'll come again an Hour hence.

_Wild_. Delay'd! by Heaven, I will have entrance.

_Fop_. Ruin'd! undone! for if he do not kill me, he may starve me.

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, he will not break in upon us! Hold, Sir, hold a little; Mrs. _Charlot_ is just--just--s.h.i.+fting her self, Sir; you will not be so uncivil as to press in, I hope, at such a Time.