Love for Love/Act I
VALENTINE in his chamber reading. JEREMY waiting.
Several books upon the table.
VAL. Here, take away. I'll walk a turn and digest what I have read.
JERE. You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet. [Aside, and taking away the books.]
VAL. And d'ye hear, go you to breakfast. There's a page doubled down in Epictetus, that is a feast for an emperor.
JERE. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?
VAL. Read, read, sirrah, and refine your appetite; learn to live upon instruction; feast your mind and mortify your flesh; read, and take your nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of understanding. So Epictetus advises.
JERE. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited upon a gentleman at Cambridge. Pray what was that Epictetus?
VAL. A very rich man.--Not worth a groat.
JERE. Humph, and so he has made a very fine feast, where there is nothing to be eaten?
JERE. Sir, you're a gentleman, and probably understand this fine feeding: but if you please, I had rather be at board wages. Does your Epictetus, or your Seneca here, or any of these poor rich rogues, teach you how to pay your debts without money? Will they shut up the mouths of your creditors? Will Plato be bail for you? Or Diogenes, because he understands confinement, and lived in a tub, go to prison for you? 'Slife, sir, what do you mean, to mew yourself up here with three or four musty books, in commendation of starving and poverty?
VAL. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it; and therefore resolve to rail at all that have. And in that I but follow the examples of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages, these poets and philosophers whom you naturally hate, for just such another reason; because they abound in sense, and you are a fool.
JERE. Ay, sir, I am a fool, I know it: and yet, heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit. But I was always a fool when I told you what your expenses would bring you to; your coaches and your liveries; your treats and your balls; your being in love with a lady that did not care a farthing for you in your prosperity; and keeping company with wits that cared for nothing but your prosperity; and now, when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one another.
VAL. Well, and now I am poor I have an opportunity to be revenged on them all. I'll pursue Angelica with more love than ever, and appear more notoriously her admirer in this restraint, than when I openly rivalled the rich fops that made court to her. So shall my poverty be a mortification to her pride, and, perhaps, make her compassionate the love which has principally reduced me to this lowness of fortune. And for the wits, I'm sure I am in a condition to be even with them.
JERE. Nay, your condition is pretty even with theirs, that's the truth on't.
VAL. I'll take some of their trade out of their hands.
JERE. Now heaven of mercy continue the tax upon paper. You don't mean to write?
VAL. Yes, I do. I'll write a play.
JERE. Hem! Sir, if you please to give me a small certificate of three lines--only to certify those whom it may concern, that the bearer hereof, Jeremy Fetch by name, has for the space of seven years truly and faithfully served Valentine Legend, Esq., and that he is not now turned away for any misdemeanour, but does voluntarily dismiss his master from any future authority over him -
VAL. No, sirrah; you shall live with me still.
JERE. Sir, it's impossible. I may die with you, starve with you, or be damned with your works. But to live, even three days, the life of a play, I no more expect it than to be canonised for a muse after my decease.
VAL. You are witty, you rogue. I shall want your help. I'll have you learn to make couplets to tag the ends of acts. D'ye hear? Get the maids to Crambo in an evening, and learn the knack of rhyming: you may arrive at the height of a song sent by an unknown hand, or a chocolate-house lampoon.
JERE. But, sir, is this the way to recover your father's favour? Why, Sir Sampson will be irreconcilable. If your younger brother should come from sea, he'd never look upon you again. You're undone, sir; you're ruined; you won't have a friend left in the world if you turn poet. Ah, pox confound that Will's coffee-house: it has ruined more young men than the Royal Oak lottery. Nothing thrives that belongs to't. The man of the house would have been an alderman by this time, with half the trade, if he had set up in the city. For my part, I never sit at the door that I don't get double the stomach that I do at a horse race. The air upon Banstead-Downs is nothing to it for a whetter; yet I never see it, but the spirit of famine appears to me, sometimes like a decayed porter, worn out with pimping, and carrying billet doux and songs: not like other porters, for hire, but for the jests' sake. Now like a thin chairman, melted down to half his proportion, with carrying a poet upon tick, to visit some great fortune; and his fare to be paid him like the wages of sin, either at the day of marriage, or the day of death.
VAL. Very well, sir; can you proceed?
JERE. Sometimes like a bilked bookseller, with a meagre terrified countenance, that looks as if he had written for himself, or were resolved to turn author, and bring the rest of his brethren into the same condition. And lastly, in the form of a worn-out punk, with verses in her hand, which her vanity had preferred to settlements, without a whole tatter to her tail, but as ragged as one of the muses; or as if she were carrying her linen to the paper-mill, to be converted into folio books of warning to all young maids, not to prefer poetry to good sense, or lying in the arms of a needy wit, before the embraces of a wealthy fool.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY.
SCAN. What, Jeremy holding forth?
VAL. The rogue has (with all the wit he could muster up) been declaiming against wit.
SCAN. Ay? Why, then, I'm afraid Jeremy has wit: for wherever it is, it's always contriving its own ruin.
JERE. Why, so I have been telling my master, sir: Mr Scandal, for heaven's sake, sir, try if you can dissuade him from turning poet.
SCAN. Poet! He shall turn soldier first, and rather depend upon the outside of his head than the lining. Why, what the devil, has not your poverty made you enemies enough? Must you needs shew your wit to get more?
JERE. Ay, more indeed: for who cares for anybody that has more wit than himself?
SCAN. Jeremy speaks like an oracle. Don't you see how worthless great men and dull rich rogues avoid a witty man of small fortune? Why, he looks like a writ of enquiry into their titles and estates, and seems commissioned by heaven to seize hte better half.
VAL. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be revenged.
SCAN. Rail? At whom? The whole world? Impotent and vain! Who would die a martyr to sense in a country where the religion is folly? You may stand at bay for a while; but when the full cry is against you, you shan't have fair play for your life. If you can't be fairly run down by the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by the huntsmen. No, turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but poet. A modern poet is worse, more servile, timorous, and fawning, than any I have named: without you could retrieve the ancient honours of the name, recall the stage of Athens, and be allowed the force of open honest satire.
VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently bent upon the trade. [One knocks.] Jeremy, see who's there. [JERE. goes to the door.] But tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement?
SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions; some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults.
VAL. How now?
JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.
VAL. What answer have you given 'em?
SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.
JERE. No, faith, sir; I have put 'em off so long with patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced now to tell 'em in plain downright English -
JERE. That they should be paid.
VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word?
JERE. Keep it? Not at all; it has been so very much stretched that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at the matter. [Knocking.] Again! Sir, if you don't like my negotiation, will you be pleased to answer these yourself?
VAL. See who they are.
VAL. By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great; secretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army lead just such a life as I do; have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts.
SCAN. And you, like a true great man, having engaged their attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more perplexed to find evasions than you would be to invent the honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors.
VAL. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your enemies; this liberty of your tongue will one day bring a confinement on your body, my friend.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY.
JERE. O sir, there's Trapland the scrivener, with two suspicious fellows like lawful pads, that would knock a man down with pocket- tipstaves. And there's your father's steward, and the nurse with one of your children from Twitnam.
VAL. Pox on her, could she find no other time to fling my sins in my face? Here, give her this, [Gives money.] and bid her trouble me no more; a thoughtless two-handed whore, she knows my condition well enough, and might have overlaid the child a fortnight ago, if she had had any forecast in her.
SCAN. What, is it bouncing Margery, with my godson?
JERE. Yes, sir.
SCAN. My blessing to the boy, with this token [Gives money.] of my love. And d'ye hear, bid Margery put more flocks in her bed, shift twice a week, and not work so hard, that she may not smell so vigorously. I shall take the air shortly.
VAL. Scandal, don't spoil my boy's milk. Bid Trapland come in. If I can give that Cerberus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY.
VAL. Oh, Mr Trapland! My old friend! Welcome. Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast--fly--a chair first.
TRAP. A good morning to you, Mr Valentine, and to you, Mr Scandal.
SCAN. The morning's a very good morning, if you don't spoil it.
VAL. Come, sit you down, you know his way.
TRAP. [Sits.] There is a debt, Mr Valentine, of 1500 pounds of pretty long standing -
VAL. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah, the sack.
TRAP. And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment?
VAL. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to you. Fill, fill to honest Mr Trapland--fuller.
TRAP. Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long -
VAL. T'other glass, and then we'll talk. Fill, Jeremy.
TRAP. No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say -
VAL. Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.]
TRAP. Thank you. I have been out of this money -
VAL. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.]
TRAP. And, in short, I can be put off no longer.
VAL. I was much obliged to you for your supply. It did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland's health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress: though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass.
SCAN. What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow.
TRAP. Fie, Mr Scandal, you never knew -
SCAN. What don't I know? I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry. 800 pounds a year jointure, and 20,000 pounds in money. Aha! old Trap.
VAL. Say you so, i'faith? Come, we'll remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow -
TRAP. No more, indeed.
VAL. What, the widow's health; give it him--off with it. [They drink.] A lovely girl, i'faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million, ha?
TRAP. No, no, there's no such thing; we'd better mind our business. You're a wag.
VAL. No, faith, we'll mind the widow's business: fill again. Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, and a jut with her bum would stir an anchoret: and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats, ah! Mr Trapland?
TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You're a wag,--and here's to the widow. [Drinks.]
SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he'll relapse into a dun.
[To them] OFFICER.
OFF. By your leave, gentlemen: Mr Trapland, if we must do our office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pall Mall and Covent Garden; and if we don't make haste the chairmen will be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses, and then our labour's lost.
TRAP. Udso that's true: Mr Valentine, I love mirth, but business must be done. Are you ready to -
JERE. Sir, your father's steward says he comes to make proposals concerning your debts.
VAL. Bid him come in: Mr Trapland, send away your officer; you shall have an answer presently.
TRAP. Mr Snap, stay within call.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TRAPLAND, JEREMY, STEWARD who whispers VALENTINE.
SCAN. Here's a dog now, a traitor in his wine: sirrah, refund the sack.--Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I'll rip up his stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience.
TRAP. Mr Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your sack; but you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it.
SCAN. And how do you expect to have your money again when a gentleman has spent it?
VAL. You need say no more, I understand the conditions; they are very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to 'em. Take Mr Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing. Mr Trapland, you know this man: he shall satisfy you.
TRAP. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my necessity -
VAL. No apology, good Mr Scrivener, you shall be paid.
TRAP. I hope you forgive me; my business requires -
SCAN. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution.
VAL. But I have got a reprieve.
SCAN. I am surprised; what, does your father relent?
VAL. No; he has sent me the hardest conditions in the world. You have heard of a booby brother of mine that was sent to sea three years ago? This brother, my father hears, is landed; whereupon he very affectionately sends me word; if I will make a deed of conveyance of my right to his estate, after his death, to my younger brother, he will immediately furnish me with four thousand pounds to pay my debts and make my fortune. This was once proposed before, and I refused it; but the present impatience of my creditors for their money, and my own impatience of confinement, and absence from Angelica, force me to consent.
SCAN. A very desperate demonstration of your love to Angelica; and I think she has never given you any assurance of hers.
VAL. You know her temper; she never gave me any great reason either for hope or despair.
SCAN. Women of her airy temper, as they seldom think before they act, so they rarely give us any light to guess at what they mean. But you have little reason to believe that a woman of this age, who has had an indifference for you in your prosperity, will fall in love with your ill-fortune; besides, Angelica has a great fortune of her own; and great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or a fool.
[To them] JEREMY.
JERE. More misfortunes, sir.
VAL. What, another dun?
JERE. No, sir, but Mr Tattle is come to wait upon you.
VAL. Well, I can't help it, you must bring him up; he knows I don't go abroad.
SCAN. Pox on him, I'll be gone.
VAL. No, prithee stay: Tattle and you should never be asunder; you are light and shadow, and show one another; he is perfectly thy reverse both in humour and understanding; and as you set up for defamation, he is a mender of reputations.
SCAN. A mender of reputations! Ay, just as he is a keeper of secrets, another virtue that he sets up for in the same manner. For the rogue will speak aloud in the posture of a whisper, and deny a woman's name while he gives you the marks of her person. He will forswear receiving a letter from her, and at the same time show you her hand in the superscription: and yet perhaps he has counterfeited the hand too, and sworn to a truth; but he hopes not to be believed, and refuses the reputation of a lady's favour, as a Doctor says no to a Bishopric only that it may be granted him. In short, he is public professor of secrecy, and makes proclamation that he holds private intelligence.--He's here.
[To them] TATTLE.
TATT. Valentine, good morrow; Scandal, I am yours: --that is, when you speak well of me.
SCAN. That is, when I am yours; for while I am my own, or anybody's else, that will never happen.
TATT. How inhuman!
VAL. Why Tattle, you need not be much concerned at anything that he says: for to converse with Scandal, is to play at losing loadum; you must lose a good name to him before you can win it for yourself.
TATT. But how barbarous that is, and how unfortunate for him, that the world shall think the better of any person for his calumniation! I thank heaven, it has always been a part of my character to handle the reputations of others very tenderly indeed.
SCAN. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to deal with are to be handled tenderly indeed.
TATT. Nay, but why rotten? Why should you say rotten, when you know not the persons of whom you speak? How cruel that is!
SCAN. Not know 'em? Why, thou never had'st to do with anybody that did not stink to all the town.
TATT. Ha, ha, ha; nay, now you make a jest of it indeed. For there is nothing more known than that nobody knows anything of that nature of me. As I hope to be saved, Valentine, I never exposed a woman, since I knew what woman was.
VAL. And yet you have conversed with several.
TATT. To be free with you, I have. I don't care if I own that. Nay more (I'm going to say a bold word now) I never could meddle with a woman that had to do with anybody else.
VAL. Nay faith, I'm apt to believe him. Except her husband, Tattle.
TATT. Oh, that -
SCAN. What think you of that noble commoner, Mrs Drab?
TATT. Pooh, I know Madam Drab has made her brags in three or four places, that I said this and that, and writ to her, and did I know not what--but, upon my reputation, she did me wrong--well, well, that was malice--but I know the bottom of it. She was bribed to that by one we all know--a man too. Only to bring me into disgrace with a certain woman of quality -
SCAN. Whom we all know.
TATT. No matter for that. Yes, yes, everybody knows. No doubt on't, everybody knows my secrets. But I soon satisfied the lady of my innocence; for I told her: Madam, says I, there are some persons who make it their business to tell stories, and say this and that of one and t'other, and everything in the world; and, says I, if your grace -
TATT. O Lord, what have I said? My unlucky tongue!
VAL. Ha, ha, ha.
SCAN. Why, Tattle, thou hast more impudence than one can in reason expect: I shall have an esteem for thee, well, and, ha, ha, ha, well, go on, and what did you say to her grace?
VAL. I confess this is something extraordinary.
TATT. Not a word, as I hope to be saved; an errant lapsus linguae. Come, let's talk of something else.
VAL. Well, but how did you acquit yourself?
TATT. Pooh, pooh, nothing at all; I only rallied with you--a woman of ordinary rank was a little jealous of me, and I told her something or other, faith I know not what.--Come, let's talk of something else. [Hums a song.]
SCAN. Hang him, let him alone, he has a mind we should enquire.
TATT. Valentine, I supped last night with your mistress, and her uncle, old Foresight: I think your father lies at Foresight's.
TATT. Upon my soul, Angelica's a fine woman. And so is Mrs Foresight, and her sister, Mrs Frail.
SCAN. Yes, Mrs Frail is a very fine woman, we all know her.
TATT. Oh, that is not fair.
TATT. To tell.
SCAN. To tell what? Why, what do you know of Mrs Frail?
TATT. Who, I? Upon honour I don't know whether she be man or woman, but by the smoothness of her chin and roundness of her hips.
SCAN. She says otherwise.
SCAN. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else.
TATT. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a woman only obliges a man to secrecy that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
SCAN. No doubt on't. Well, but has she done you wrong, or no? You have had her? Ha?
TATT. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I have more manners than to contradict what a lady has declared.
SCAN. Well, you own it?
TATT. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I can't deny't if she taxes me with it.
SCAN. She'll be here by and by, she sees Valentine every morning.
VAL. She does me the favour, I mean, of a visit sometimes. I did not think she had granted more to anybody.
SCAN. Nor I, faith. But Tattle does not use to bely a lady; it is contrary to his character. How one may be deceived in a woman, Valentine?
TATT. Nay, what do you mean, gentlemen?
SCAN. I'm resolved I'll ask her.
TATT. O barbarous! Why did you not tell me?
SCAN. No; you told us.
TATT. And bid me ask Valentine?
VAL. What did I say? I hope you won't bring me to confess an answer when you never asked me the question?
TATT. But, gentlemen, this is the most inhuman proceeding -
VAL. Nay, if you have known Scandal thus long, and cannot avoid such a palpable decoy as this was, the ladies have a fine time whose reputations are in your keeping.
[To them] JEREMY.
JERE. Sir, Mrs Frail has sent to know if you are stirring.
VAL. Show her up when she comes.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, TATTLE.
TATT. I'll be gone.
VAL. You'll meet her.
TATT. Is there not a back way?
VAL. If there were, you have more discretion than to give Scandal such an advantage. Why, your running away will prove all that he can tell her.
TATT. Scandal, you will not be so ungenerous. Oh, I shall lose my reputation of secrecy for ever. I shall never be received but upon public days, and my visits will never be admitted beyond a drawing- room. I shall never see a bed-chamber again, never be locked in a closet, nor run behind a screen, or under a table: never be distinguished among the waiting-women by the name of trusty Mr Tattle more. You will not be so cruel?
VAL. Scandal, have pity on him; he'll yield to any conditions.
TATT. Any, any terms.
SCAN. Come, then, sacrifice half a dozen women of good reputation to me presently. Come, where are you familiar? And see that they are women of quality, too--the first quality.
TATT. 'Tis very hard. Won't a baronet's lady pass?
SCAN. No, nothing under a right honourable.
TATT. Oh, inhuman! You don't expect their names?
SCAN. No, their titles shall serve.
TATT. Alas, that's the same thing. Pray spare me their titles. I'll describe their persons.
SCAN. Well, begin then; but take notice, if you are so ill a painter that I cannot know the person by your picture of her, you must be condemned, like other bad painters, to write the name at the bottom.
TATT. Well, first then -
[To them] MRS FRAIL.
TATT. Oh, unfortunate! She's come already; will you have patience till another time? I'll double the number.
SCAN. Well, on that condition. Take heed you don't fail me.
MRS FRAIL. I shall get a fine reputation by coming to see fellows in a morning. Scandal, you devil, are you here too? Oh, Mr Tattle, everything is safe with you, we know.
SCAN. Tattle -
TATT. Mum. O madam, you do me too much honour.
VAL. Well, Lady Galloper, how does Angelica?
MRS FRAIL. Angelica? Manners!
VAL. What, you will allow an absent lover -
MRS FRAIL. No, I'll allow a lover present with his mistress to be particular; but otherwise, I think his passion ought to give place to his manners.
VAL. But what if he has more passion than manners?
MRS FRAIL. Then let him marry and reform.
VAL. Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his passion, but it very rarely mends a man's manners.
MRS FRAIL. You are the most mistaken in the world; there is no creature perfectly civil but a husband. For in a little time he grows only rude to his wife, and that is the highest good breeding, for it begets his civility to other people. Well, I'll tell you news; but I suppose you hear your brother Benjamin is landed? And my brother Foresight's daughter is come out of the country: I assure you, there's a match talked of by the old people. Well, if he be but as great a sea-beast as she is a land-monster, we shall have a most amphibious breed. The progeny will be all otters. He has been bred at sea, and she has never been out of the country.
VAL. Pox take 'em, their conjunction bodes me no good, I'm sure.
MRS FRAIL. Now you talk of conjunction, my brother Foresight has cast both their nativities, and prognosticates an admiral and an eminent justice of the peace to be the issue male of their two bodies; 'tis the most superstitious old fool! He would have persuaded me that this was an unlucky day, and would not let me come abroad. But I invented a dream, and sent him to Artimedorus for interpretation, and so stole out to see you. Well, and what will you give me now? Come, I must have something.
VAL. Step into the next room, and I'll give you something.
SCAN. Ay, we'll all give you something.
MRS FRAIL. Well, what will you all give me?
VAL. Mine's a secret.
MRS FRAIL. I thought you would give me something that would be a trouble to you to keep.
VAL. And Scandal shall give you a good name.
MRS FRAIL. That's more than he has for himself. And what will you give me, Mr Tattle?
TATT. I? My soul, madam.
MRS FRAIL. Pooh! No, I thank you, I have enough to do to take care of my own. Well, but I'll come and see you one of these mornings. I hear you have a great many pictures.
TATT. I have a pretty good collection, at your service, some originals.
SCAN. Hang him, he has nothing but the Seasons and the Twelve Caesars--paltry copies--and the Five Senses, as ill-represented as they are in himself, and he himself is the only original you will see there.
MRS FRAIL. Ay, but I hear he has a closet of beauties.
SCAN. Yes; all that have done him favours, if you will believe him.
MRS FRAIL. Ay, let me see those, Mr Tattle.
TATT. Oh, madam, those are sacred to love and contemplation. No man but the painter and myself was ever blest with the sight.
MRS FRAIL. Well, but a woman -
TATT. Nor woman, till she consented to have her picture there too-- for then she's obliged to keep the secret.
SCAN. No, no; come to me if you'd see pictures.
MRS FRAIL. You?
SCAN. Yes, faith; I can shew you your own picture, and most of your acquaintance to the life, and as like as at Kneller's.
MRS FRAIL. O lying creature! Valentine, does not he lie? I can't believe a word he says.
VAL. No indeed, he speaks truth now. For as Tattle has pictures of all that have granted him favours, he has the pictures of all that have refused him: if satires, descriptions, characters, and lampoons are pictures.
SCAN. Yes; mine are most in black and white. And yet there are some set out in their true colours, both men and women. I can shew you pride, folly, affectation, wantonness, inconstancy, covetousness, dissimulation, malice and ignorance, all in one piece. Then I can shew you lying, foppery, vanity, cowardice, bragging, lechery, impotence, and ugliness in another piece; and yet one of these is a celebrated beauty, and t'other a professed beau. I have paintings too, some pleasant enough.
MRS FRAIL. Come, let's hear 'em.
SCAN. Why, I have a beau in a bagnio, cupping for a complexion, and sweating for a shape.
MRS FRAIL. So.
SCAN. Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with a hackney coachman.
MRS FRAIL. O devil! Well, but that story is not true.
SCAN. I have some hieroglyphics too; I have a lawyer with a hundred hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine with two faces, and one head; and I have a soldier with his brains in his belly, and his heart where his head should be.
MRS FRAIL. And no head?
SCAN. No head.
MRS FRAIL. Pooh, this is all invention. Have you never a poet?
SCAN. Yes, I have a poet weighing words, and selling praise for praise, and a critic picking his pocket. I have another large piece too, representing a school, where there are huge proportioned critics, with long wigs, laced coats, Steinkirk cravats, and terrible faces; with cat-calls in their hands, and horn-books about their necks. I have many more of this kind, very well painted, as you shall see.
MRS FRAIL. Well, I'll come, if it be but to disprove you.
[To them] JEREMY.
JERE. Sir, here's the steward again from your father.
VAL. I'll come to him--will you give me leave? I'll wait on you again presently,
MRS FRAIL. No; I'll be gone. Come, who squires me to the Exchange? I must call my sister Foresight there.
SCAN. I will: I have a mind to your sister.
MRS FRAIL. Civil!
TATT. I will: because I have a tendre for your ladyship.
MRS FRAIL. That's somewhat the better reason, to my opinion.
SCAN. Well, if Tattle entertains you, I have the better opportunity to engage your sister.
VAL. Tell Angelica I am about making hard conditions to come abroad, and be at liberty to see her.
SCAN. I'll give an account of you and your proceedings. If indiscretion be a sign of love, you are the most a lover of anybody that I know: you fancy that parting with your estate will help you to your mistress. In my mind he is a thoughtless adventurer
Who hopes to purchase wealth by selling land;
Or win a mistress with a losing hand.