thing for your part, but to get a parson in the next room; we'll find work for him. L. Dupe. That shall be done immediately; Christian, make haste, and send for Mr Ball, the nonconformist; tell him, here are two or three angels to be earned. Chr. And two or three possets to be eaten: May I not put in that, madam? L. Dupe. Surely you may. [Exit CHR. Rose. Then for the rest-'tis only this--Oh! they are here! pray take it in a whisper: My lady knows of it already. Enter MOODY, Sir JOHN, and Mrs MILLISENT. Mill. Strike up again, fiddle, I'll have a French dance. Sir John. Let's have the brawls. Mood. No, good sir John, no quarrelling among friends. L. Dupe. Your company is like to be increased, sir; some neighbours, that heard your fiddles, are come a mumming to you. Mood. Let them come in, and we'll be jovy; an I had but my hobby-horse at home- Sir John. What, are they men, or women? L. Dupe. I believe some 'prentices broke loose. Mill. Rose, go, and fetch me down two Indian gowns and vizard-masks-you and I will disguise too, and be as good a mummery to them, as they to us. [Exit ROSE. Mood. That will be most rare. Enter Sir MARTIN MAR-ALL, WARNER, Landlord, disguised like a Tony. Mood. O here they come! Gentlemen maskers, 'you are welcome-[WARNER signs to the music for a dance.] He signs for a dance, I believe; you are welcome. Mr Music, strike up; I'll make one, as old as I am. Sir John. And I'll not be out. [Dance. Lord. Gentlemen maskers, you have had your frolic, the next turn is mine; bring two flute-glasses and some stools, ho! we'll have the ladies' healths. Sir John. But why stools, my lord? Lord. That you shall see: the humour is, that two men at a time are hoisted up: when they are above, they name their ladies, and the rest of the company dance about them while they drink: This they call the frolic of the altitudes. Mood. Some highlander's invention, I'll warrant it. Lord. Gentlemen-maskers, you shall begin. [They hoist Sir MART. and WArn. Sir John. They point to Mrs Millisent and Mrs Christian, A Lou's touche! touche! [While they drink, the company dances and sings: They are taken down. Mood. A rare toping health this: Come, Sir John, now you and I will be in our altitudes. Sir John. What new device is this, trow? Mood. I know not what to make on't. [When they are up, the company dances about them: They dance off. Tony dances a jigg. Sir John. Pray, Mr Fool, where's the rest of your company? I would fain see 'em again. [To Tony. Land. Come down, and tell them so, Cudden. Sir John. I'll be hanged if there be not some plot in it, and this fool is set here to spin out the time. Mood. Like enough! undone! undone ! my daughter's gone! let me down, sirrah. Land. Yes, Cudden. Sir John. My, mistress is gone, let me down first. Land. This is the quickest way, Cudden. [He offers to pull down the stools. Sir John. Hold! hold! or thou wilt break my neck. Land. An you will not come down, you may stay there, Cudden. [Exit Landlord, dancing. Mood. O scanderbag villains! Sir John. Is there no getting down? Mood. All this was long of you, Sir Jack. Sir John. 'Twas long of yourself, to invite them hither. Mood. O you young coxcomb, to be drawn in thus! Sir John. You old Scot you, to be caught so sillily! Mood. Come but an inch nearer, and I'll so claw thee. Sir John. I hope I shall reach to thee. Mood. An 'twere not for thy wooden breast-work there lon. Sir John. I hope to push thee down from Baby Enter Lord, Lady DUPE, Sir MARTIN, WARNER, Mood. Coxnowns! help me down, and let me have fair play; he shall never marry my daughter. Sir Mart. [Leading Rose.] No, I'll be sworn that he shall not; therefore never repine, sir, for marriages, you know, are made in heaven; in fine, sir, we are joined together in spite of fortune. Rose. [Pulling off her mask.] That we are, in- / deed, Sir Martin, and these are witnesses; therefore, in fine, never repine, sir, for marriages, you know, are made in heaven. Omn. Rose! Warn. What, is Rose split in two? Sure I have got one Rose ! life.. Mill. Ay, the best Rose you ever got in all your [Pulls off her mask. Warn. This amazeth me so much, I know not what to say, or think. Mood. My daughter married to Warner! Sir Mart. Well, I thought it impossible that any man in England should have over-reached me: Sure, Warner, there is some mistake in this: Pr'ythee, Billy, let's go to the parson to make all right again, that every man have his own, before the matter go too far. Warn. Well, sir! for my part, I will have nothing farther to do with these women, for, I find, they will be too hard for us; but e'en sit down by the loss, and content myself with my hard fortune : But, madam, do you ever think I will forgive you this, to cheat me into an estate of two thousand pounds a-year? Sir Mart. An I were as thee, I would not be so served, Warner. Mill. I have served him but right, for the cheat he put upon me, when he persuaded me you were a wit -now, there's a trick for your trick, sir. Warn. Nay, I confess you have outwitted me. Sir John. Let me down, and I'll forgive all freely. [They let him down. Mood. What am I kept here for? Warn. I might in policy keep you there, till your daughter and I had been in private, for a little consummation: But for once, sir, I'll trust your good nature. [Takes him down too. Mood. An thou wert a gentleman, it would not grieve me. Mill. That I was assured of before I married him, by my lord here. Lord. I cannot refuse to own him for my kinsman, though his father's sufferings in the late times have ruined his fortunes. Mood. But yet he has been a serving man. Warn. You are mistaken, sir, I have been a mas ter; and, besides, there is an estate of eight hundred pounds a year, only it is mortgaged for six thousand pounds. Mood. Well, we'll bring it off; and, for my part, I am glad my daughter has missed in fine there. Sir John. I will not be the only man that must sleep without a bed-fellow to-night, if this lady will once again receive me. L. Dupe. She's yours, sir. Lord. And the same parson, that did the former execution, is still in the next chamber; what with caudles, wine, and quidding, which he has taken in abundance, I think he will be able to wheedle two more of you into matrimony. Mill. Poor Sir Martin looks melancholy! I am half afraid he is in love. Warn. Not with the lady that took him for a wit, I hope. Rose. At least, Sir Martin can do more than you, Mr Warner; for he can make me a lady, which you cannot my mistress. Sir Mart. I have lost nothing but my man, and, in fine, I shall get another. Mill. You'll do very well, Sir Martin, for you'll never be your own man, I assure you. Warn. For my part, I had loved you before, if I had followed my inclination. Mill. But now I am afraid you begin of the latest, except your love can grow up, like a mushroom, at a night's warning. |