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“ Scand. No, don't ; for then you'll tell us no more. “ Come, I'll recommend a song to you, upon the “ hint of my two proverbs; and I see one in the next room that will sing it.
[Goes to the door. “ Tatt. For Heaven's sake, if you do guess, say " nothing. Gad, I'm very unfortunate!
“ Scand. Pray sing the first song in the last new “play.
" A nymph and a swain to Apollo once pray'd, " The swain had been jilted, the nymph been betray'd: “ Their intent was, to try if his oracle knew “ E'er a nymph that waschaste, or a swain that was true.
“ Apollo was mute, and had like t' have been pos’d, “ But sagely at length he this secret disclos’d: “ He alone wo’nt betray, in whem none will confide; “ And thenymph may be chaste, that has never been tried."
Enter Sir SAMPSON, Mrs. FrAll, Miss Prue, and
Servant. Sir S. Is Ben come? Odso, my son Ben come? Odd, I'm glad on't.-Where is he? I long to see him. Now, Mrs. Frail, you shall see my son Ben. -Body o’me, he's the hopes of my family—I ha’nt seen him these three years I warrant he's grown! -Call him in; bid him make haste [Exit Servant.] -I'm ready to cry for joy.
Mrs. F. Now, miss, you shall see your husband. Miss P. Pish, he shall be none of my husband.
[ Aside to Frail. Mrs. F. Hush! Well, he shan't ! leave that to me l'll beckon Mr. Tattle to us. Ang. Won't you stay and see your brother ?
Val. We are the twin stars, and cannot shine in one sphere; when he rises, I must set.-Besides, if I should stay, I don't know but my father in goodnature may press me to the immediate signing the deed of conveyance of my estate ; and I'll defer it as long as I can.-Well, you'll come to a resolution.
Ang. I cannot. Resolution must come to me, or I shall never have one.
Scand. Come, Valentine, I'll go with you; I have something in my head, to communicate to you.
[Exeunt Scandal and Valentine. Sir S. What! is my son Valentine gone? What! is he sneaked off, and would not see his brother? There's an unnatural whelp! there's an ill-natured dog! What! were you here too, madam, and could not keep him? could neither love, nor duty, nor natural affection, oblige him? Odsbud, madam, have no more to say to him; he is not worth your consideration. The rogue has not a drachm of generous "love about him—all interest, all interest! He's an undone scoundrel, and courts your estate. Body o'me, he does not care a doit for your person.
Ang. I am pretty even with him, Sir Sampson; for, if ever I could have liked any thing in him, it should
have been his estate too. But, since that's gone, the bait's off, and the naked hook appears.
Sir S. Odsbud, well spoken; and you are a wiser woman than I thought you were: for most young women now-a-days are to be tempted with a naked hook.
Ang. If I marry, Sir Sampson, I am for a good estate with any man, and for any man with a good estate : therefore, If I were obliged to make a choice, I declare I'd rather have
than Sir S. Faith and troth, you are a wise woman; and I'm glad to hear you say so.
I was afraid you were in love with a reprobate. Odd, I was sorry for you with all my heart, Hang him, mongrel; cast him off. You shall see the rogue shew himself, and make love to some desponding Cadua of fourscore fof sustenance. Odd, I love to see a young spendthrift forced to cling to an old woman for support, like ivy. round a dead oak-faith I do. I love to see them hug and cotton together, like down upon a thistle.
Enter Ben and Servant.
Exit. Sir S. My son Ben! Bless thee, my dear boy! Body o'me, thou art heartily welcome.
Ben. Thank you, father; and I'm glad to see you.
Sir S. Odsbud, and I'm glad to see thee. Kiss me, boy; kiss me again and again, dear Ben.
Ben. So, so, enough, father.-Mess, I'd rather kiss these gentlewomen.
Sir S. And so thou shalt.-Mrs. Angelica, my son Ben.
Ben. Forsooth, if you please ! [Salutes her. ]-Nay, mistress, I'm not for dropping anchor here; about ship, i'faith. [Kisses Frail. )---Nay, and you too, my little cock-boat! so.
[Kisses Miss. Tatt. Sir, you're welcome ashore. Ben. Thank you, thank you, friend.
Sir S. Thou hast been many a weary league, Ben, since I saw thee.
Ben. Ey, ey, been? been far enough, and that be all. Well, father, and how do all at home? how does brother Dick, and brother Val?
Sir S. Dick! body o'me, Dick has been dead these two years. I writ you word, when you were at Leghorn. · Ben. Mess, that's true: marry, I had forgot. Dick is dead, as you say.--Well, and how, I have a many questions to ask you; well, you ben't married again, father, be you?
Sir S. No, I intend you shall marry, Ben; I would not marry, for thy sake.
Ben. Nay, what does that signify ?-An you marry again-why then, I'll go to sea again, so there's one for t'other, and that be all.-Pray don't let me be your hindrance ; e'en marry, a God's name, and the wind sit that way. As for my part, mayhap I have no mind to marry.
Mrs. F. That would be pity, such a handsome young gentleman !
Ben. Handsome! he, he, he! Nay, forsooth, an you be for joking, I'll joke with you; for I love my jest, an the ship were sinking, as we said at sea. But I'll tell you why I don't much stand towards matrimony. I love to roam about from port to port, and from land to land : I could never abide to be port-bound, as we call it. Now a man that is married has, as it were, d’ye see, his feet in the bilboes, and mayhap may’nt get them out again when he would.
Sir S. Ben is a wag.
Ben. A man that is married, d'ye see, is no more like another man, than a galley-slave is like one of us free sailors: he is chained to an oar all his life ; and mayhap forced to tug a leaky vessel into the bargain.
Sir S. A very wag! Ben is a very wag; only a little rough ; he wants a little polishing.
Mrs. F. Not at all ; like his humour mightily: it is plain and honest; I should like such a humour in a husband extremely.
Ben. Say'n you so, forsooth? Marry, and I should like such a handsome gentlewoman for a bed-fellow hugely. How say you, mistress ? would you like going to sea ? Mess, you're a tight vessel, and well rigged, an you were but as well manned.
Mrs. F. I should not doubt that, if you were mase ter of me.
Ben. But I'll tell you one thing, an you come to sea in a high wind, or that lady-you mayn't carry so