Part 18
_Mons._ I warrant you, cousin.--Lord, that people should be made such fools of! Ha! ha! ha! [_Exit._
_Ger._ So, so:--to make him hold the door, while I steal his mistress, is not unpleasant.
_Hip._ Ay, but would you do so ill a thing, so treacherous a thing? Faith 'tis not well.
_Ger._ Faith, I can't help it, since 'tis for your sake.--Come, sweetest, is not this our way into the gallery?
_Hip._ Yes; but it goes against my conscience to be accessory to so ill a thing.--You say you do it for my sake?
_Ger._ Alas, poor miss! 'tis not against your conscience, but against your modesty, you think, to do it frankly.
_Hip._ Nay, if it be against my modesty, too, I can't do it indeed.
_Ger._ Come, come, miss, let us make haste:--all's ready.
_Hip._ Nay, faith, I can't satisfy my scruple.
_Ger._ Come, dearest, this is not a time for scruples nor modesty.--Modesty between lovers is as impertinent as ceremony between friends; and modesty is now as unseasonable as on the wedding night.--Come away, my dearest.
_Hip._ Whither?
_Ger._ Nay, sure we have lost too much time already. Is that a proper question now? If you would know, come along; for I have all ready.
_Hip._ But I am not ready.
_Ger._ Truly, miss, we shall have your father come in upon us, and prevent us again, as he did in the morning.
_Hip._ 'Twas well for me he did:--for, on my conscience, if he had not come in, I had gone clear away with you when I was in the humour.
_Ger._ Come, dearest, you would frighten me, as if you were not yet in the same humour.--Come, come away; the coach and six is ready.
_Hip._ 'Tis too late to take the air, and I am not ready.
_Ger._ You were ready in the morning.
_Hip._ Ay, so I was.
_Ger._ Come, come, miss:--indeed the jest begins to be none.
_Hip._ What! I warrant you think me in jest then?
_Ger._ In jest, certainly; but it begins to be troublesome.
_Hip._ But, sir, you could believe I was in earnest in the morning, when I but seemed to be ready to go with you; and why won't you believe me now when I declare to the contrary?--I take it unkindly, that the longer I am acquainted with you, you should have the less confidence in me.
_Ger._ For Heaven's sake, miss, lose no more time thus; your father will come in upon us, as he did--
_Hip._ Let him if he will.
_Ger._ He'll hinder our design.
_Hip._ No, he will not; for mine is to stay here now.
_Ger._ Are you in earnest?
_Hip._ You'll find it so.
_Ger._ How! why, you confessed but now you would have gone with me in the morning.
_Hip._ I was in the humour then.
_Ger._ And I hope you are in the same still; you cannot change so soon.
_Hip._ Why, is it not a whole day ago?
_Ger._ What! are you not a day in the same humour?
_Hip._ Lord! that you who know the town, they say, should think any woman could be a whole day together in a humour!--ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ Hey! this begins to be pleasant.--What! won't you go with me then after all?
_Hip._ No indeed, sir, I desire to be excused.
_Ger._ Then you have abused me all this while?
_Hip._ It may be so.
_Ger._ Could all that so natural innocency be dissembled?--faith, it could not, dearest miss.
_Hip._ Faith, it was, dear master.
_Ger._ Was it, faith?
_Hip._ Methinks you might believe me without an oath. You saw I could dissemble with my father, why should you think I could not with you?
_Ger._ So young a wheedle!
_Hip._ Ay, a mere damned jade I am.
_Ger._ And I have been abused, you say?
_Hip._ 'Tis well you can believe it at last.
_Ger._ And I must never hope for you?
_Hip._ Would you have me abuse you again?
_Ger._ Then you will not go with me?
_Hip._ No: but, for your comfort, your loss will not be great; and that you may not resent it, for once I'll be ingenuous, and disabuse you.--I am no heiress, as I told you, to twelve hundred pounds a-year; I was only a lying jade then.--Now will you part with me willingly, I doubt not.
_Ger._ I wish I could. [_Sighs._
_Hip._ Come, now I find 'tis your turn to dissemble:--but men use to dissemble for money; will you dissemble for nothing?
_Ger._ 'Tis too late for me to dissemble.
_Hip._ Don't you dissemble, faith?
_Ger._ Nay, this is too cruel.
_Hip._ What! would you take me without the twelve hundred pounds a-year? would you be such a fool as to steal a woman with nothing?
_Ger._ I'll convince you; for you shall go with me:--and since you are twelve hundred pounds a-year the lighter, you'll be the easier carried away. [_He takes her in his arms, she struggles._
_Prue._ What! he takes her way against her will:--I find I must knock for my master then. [_She knocks._
_Re-enter_ Don DIEGO _and_ Mrs. CAUTION.
_Hip._ My father! my father is here!
_Ger._ Prevented again! [GERRARD _sets her down again._
_Don._ What, you have done I hope now, friend, for good and all?
_Ger._ Yes, yes; we have done for good and all indeed.
_Don._ How now!--you seem to be out of humour, friend.
_Ger._ Yes, so I am; I can't help it.
_Mrs. Caut._ He's a dissembler in his very throat, brother.
_Hip._ Pray do not carry things so as to discover yourself, if it be but for my sake, good master. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.
_Ger._ She is grown impudent. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Caut._ See, see, they whisper, brother!--to steal a kiss under a whisper!--O the harlotry!
_Don._ What's the matter, friend?
_Hip._ I say, for my sake be in humour, and do not discover yourself, but be as patient as a dancing-master still. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.
_Don._ What, she is whispering to him indeed! What's the matter? I will know it, friend, look you.
_Ger._ Will you know it?
_Don._ Yes, I will know it.
_Ger._ Why, if you will know it then, she would not do as I would have her; and whispered me to desire me not to discover it to you.
_Don._ What, hussy, would you not do as he'd have you? I'll make you do as he'd have you.
_Ger._ I wish you would.
_Mrs. Caut._ 'Tis a lie; she'll do all he'll have her do, and more too, to my knowledge.
_Don._ Come, tell me what 'twas then she would not do--come, do it, hussy, or--Come, take her by the hand, friend. Come, begin:--let's see if she will not do anything now I'm here!
_Hip._ Come, pray be in humour, master.
_Ger._ I cannot dissemble like you.
_Don._ What, she can't dissemble already, can she?
_Mrs. Caut._ Yes, but she can: but 'tis with you she dissembles: for they are not fallen out, as we think. For I'll be sworn I saw her just now give him the languishing eye, as they call it, that is, the whiting's eye, of old called the sheep's eye:--I'll be sworn I saw it with these two eyes; that I did.
_Hip._ You'll betray us; have a care, good master. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.
_Don._ Hold your peace, I say, silly woman!--but does she dissemble already?--how do you mean?
_Ger._ She pretends she can't do what she should do; and that she is not in humour.--The common excuse of women for not doing what they should do.
_Don._ Come, I'll put her in humour.--Dance, I say.--Come, about with her, master.
_Ger._ [_Aside._] I am in a pretty humour to dance.--[_To_ HIPPOLITA.] I cannot fool any longer, since you have fooled me.
_Hip._ You would not be so ungenerous as to betray the woman that hated you! I do not do that yet. For Heaven's sake! for this once be more obedient to my desires than your passion. [_Aside to_ GERRARD.
_Don._ What! is she humoursome still?--but methinks you look yourself as if you were in an ill-humour:--but about with her.
_Ger._ I am in no good dancing humour, indeed.
_Re-enter_ Monsieur.
_Mons._ Well, how goes the dancing forward?--What, my aunt here to disturb 'em again?
_Don._ Come! come! [GERRARD _leads her about._
_Mrs. Caut._ I say, stand off;--thou shall not come near. Avoid, Satan! as they say.
_Don._ Nay, then we shall have it:--nephew, hold her a little, that she may not disturb 'em.--Come, now away with her.
_Ger._ One, two, and a coupee.--[_Aside._] Fooled and abused--
_Mrs. Caut._ Wilt thou lay violent hands upon thy own natural aunt, wretch? [_To_ Monsieur.
_Don._ Come, about with her.
_Ger._ One, two, three, four, and turn round--[_Aside._] by such a piece of innocency!
_Mrs. Caut._ Dost thou see, fool, how he squeezes her hand? [_To_ Monsieur.
_Mons._ That won't do, aunt.
_Hip._ Pray, master, have patience, and let's mind our business.
_Don._ Why did you anger him then, hussy, look you?
_Mrs. Caut._ Do you see how she smiles in his face, and squeezes his hand now? [_To_ Monsieur.
_Mons._ Your servant, aunt.--That won't do, I say.
_Hip._ Have patience, master.
_Ger._ [_Aside._] I am become her sport!--[_Aloud._] One, two, three--Death! hell! and the devil!
_Don._ Ay, they are three indeed!--But pray have patience.
_Mrs. Caut._ Do you see how she leers upon him, and clings to him? Can you suffer it? [_To_ Monsieur.
_Mons._ Ay, ay.
_Ger._ One, two, three, and a slur.--Can you be so unconcerned after all?
_Don._ What! is she unconcerned?--Hussy, mind your business.
_Ger._ One, two, three, and turn round;--one, two, fall back--hell and damnation!
_Don._ Ay, people fall back indeed into hell and damnation, Heaven knows!
_Ger._ One, two, three, and your honour.--I can fool no longer!
_Mrs. Caut._ Nor will I be withheld any longer, like a poor hen in her pen, while the kite is carrying away her chicken before her face.
_Don._ What, have you done?--Well then, let's see her dance it now to the violin.
_Mons._ Ay, ay, let's see her dance it to the violin.
_Ger._ Another time, another time.
_Don._ Don't you believe that, friend:--these dancing-masters make no bones of breaking their words. Did not you promise just now, I should see her dance it to the violin? and that I will too, before I stir.
_Ger._ Let monsieur play then while I dance with her--she can't dance alone.
_Mons._ I can't play at all; I'm but a learner:--but if you'll play, I'll dance with her.
_Ger._ I can't play neither.
_Don._ What! a dancing-master, and not play!
_Mrs. Caut._ Ay, you see what a dancing-master he is. 'Tis as I told you, I warrant.--A dancing-master, and not play upon the fiddle!
_Don._ How!
_Hip._ O you have betrayed us all! If you confess that, you undo us for ever. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.
_Ger._ I cannot play;--what would you have me say? [_Apart to_ HIPPOLITA.
_Mons._ I vow and swear we are all undone if you cannot play. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.
_Don._ What! are you a dancing-master, and cannot play? Umph--
_Hip._ He is only out of humour, sir.--Here, master, I know you will play for me yet;--for he has an excellent hand. [_She offers_ GERRARD _the violin._
_Mons._ Ay, that he has.--[_Aside._] At giving a box on the ear.
_Don._ Why does he not play, then?
_Hip._ Here, master, pray play for my sake. [_Gives_ GERRARD _the violin._
_Ger._ What would you have me do with it?--I cannot play a stroke. [_Apart to_ HIPPOLITA.
_Hip._ No! stay--then seem to tune it, and break the strings. [_Apart to_ GERRARD.
_Ger._ Come then.--[_Aside._] Next to the devil's, the invention of women! They'll no more want an excuse to cheat a father with, than an opportunity to abuse a husband.--[_Aloud._] But what do you give me such a damned fiddle with rotten strings, for? [_Winds up the strings till they break, and throws the violin on the ground._
_Don._ Hey-day! the dancing-master is frantic.
_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! That people should be made such fools of! [_Aside._
_Mrs. Caut._ He broke the strings on purpose, because he could not play.--You are blind, brother.
_Don._ What! will you see further than I, look you?
_Hip._ But pray, master, why in such haste? [GERRARD _offers to go._
_Ger._ Because you have done with me.
_Don._ But don't you intend to come to-morrow, again?
_Ger._ Your daughter does not desire it.
_Don._ No matter; I do; I must be your paymaster, I'm sure. I would have you come betimes too; not only to make her perfect, but since you have so good a hand upon the violin, to play your part with half-a-dozen of musicians more, whom I would have you bring with you: for we will have a very merry wedding, though a very private one.--You'll be sure to come?
_Ger._ Your daughter does not desire it.
_Don._ Come, come, baggage, you shall desire it of him; he is your master.
_Hip._ My father will have me desire it of you, it seems.
_Ger._ But you'll make a fool of me again if I should come; would you not?
_Hip._ If I should tell you so, you'd be sure not to come.
_Don._ Come, come, she shall not make a fool of you, upon my word. I'll secure you, she shall do what you will have her.
_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! So, so, silly Don. [_Aside._
_Ger._ But, madam, will you have me come?
_Hip._ I'd have you to know, for my part, I care not whether you come or no:--there are other dancing-masters to be had:--it is my father's request to you. All that I have to say to you is a little good advice, which, because I will not shame you, I'll give you in private. [_Whispers_ GERRARD.
_Mrs. Caut._ What! will you let her whisper with him too?
_Don._ Nay, if you find fault with it, they shall whisper, though I did not like it before:--I'll ha' nobody wiser than myself. But do you think, if 'twere any hurt, she would whisper it to him before us?
_Mrs. Caut._ If it be no hurt, why does she not speak aloud?
_Don._ Because she says she will not put the man out of countenance.
_Mrs. Caut._ Hey-day! put a dancing-master out of countenance!
_Don._ You say he is no dancing-master.
_Mrs. Caut._ Yes, for his impudence he may be a dancing-master.
_Don._ Well, well, let her whisper before me as much as she will to-night, since she is to be married to-morrow;--especially since her husband (that shall be) stands by consenting too.
_Mons._ Ay, ay, let 'em whisper, as you say, as much as they will before we marry.--[_Aside._] She's making more sport with him, I warrant.--But I wonder how people can be fooled so.--Ha! ha! ha!
_Don._ Well, a penny for the secret, daughter.
_Hip._ Indeed, father, you shall have it for nothing to-morrow.
_Don._ Well, friend, you will not fail to come?
_Ger._ No, no, sir.--[_Aside._] Yet I am a fool if I do.
_Don._ And be sure you bring the fiddlers with you, as I bid you.
_Hip._ Yes, be sure you bring the fiddlers with you, as I bid you.
_Mrs. Caut._ So, so: he'll fiddle your daughter out of the house.--Must you have fiddles, with a fiddle faddle?
_Mons._ Lord! that people should be made such fools of! Ha! ha! [_Aside._
[_Exeunt_ Don DIEGO, HIPPOLITA, Monsieur, Mrs. CAUTION, _and_ PRUE.
_Ger_.
Fortune we sooner may than woman trust: To her confiding gallant she is just; But falser woman only him deceives, Who to her tongue and eyes most credit gives.
[_Exit._
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.--_A Room in_ Don DIEGO'S _House._
_Enter_ Monsieur de PARIS _and the_ Black, _stalking over the stage; to them_ GERRARD.
_Mons._ Good morrow to thee, noble dancing-master:--ha! ha! ha! your little black brother here, my master, I see, is the more diligent man of the two. But why do you come so late?--What! you begin to neglect your scholar, do you?--Little black master, _con licencia_, pray get you out of the room.--[_Exit_ Black.] What! out of humour, man! a dancing-master should be like his fiddle, always in tune. Come, my cousin has made an ass of thee; what then? I know it.
_Ger._ Does he know it! [_Aside._
_Mons._ But prithee don't be angry: 'twas agreed upon betwixt us, before I sent you, to make a fool of thee;--ha! ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ Was it so?
_Mons._ I knew you would be apt to entertain vain hopes from the summons of a lady: but, faith, the design was but to make a fool of thee, as you find.
_Ger._ 'Tis very well.
_Mons._ But indeed I did not think the jest would have lasted so long, and that my cousin would have made a dancing-master of you, ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ The fool has reason, I find, and I am the coxcomb while I thought him so. [_Aside_.
_Mons._ Come, I see you are uneasy, and the jest of being a dancing-master grows tedious to you:--but have a little patience; the parson is sent for, and when once my cousin and I are married, my uncle may know who you are.
_Ger._ I am certainly abused. [_Aside._
_Mons._ [_Listening._] What do you say?
_Ger._ Merely fooled! [_Aside._
_Mons._ Why do you doubt it? ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ Can it be? [_Aside._
_Mons._ Pish! pish! she told me yesterday as soon as you were gone, that she had led you into a fool's paradise, and made you believe she would go away with you--ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ Did she so?--I am no longer to doubt it then. [_Aside._
_Mons._ Ay, ay, she makes a mere fool of thee, I vow and swear; but don't be concerned, there's hardly a man of a thousand but has been made a fool of by some woman or other.--I have been made a fool of myself, man, by the women; I have, I vow and swear I have.
_Ger._ Well, you have, I believe it, for you are a coxcomb.
_Mons._ Lord! you need not be so touchy with one; I tell you but the truth, for your good; for though she does, I would not fool you any longer; but prithee don't be troubled at what can't be helped. Women are made on purpose to fool men: when they are children, they fool their fathers; and when they have taken their leaves of their hanging sleeves, they fool their gallants or dancing masters,--ha! ha! ha!
_Ger._ Hark you, sir! to be fooled by a woman, you say, is not to be helped; but I will not be fooled by a fool.
_Mons._ You show your English breeding now; an English rival is so dull and brutish as not to understand raillery; but what is spoken in your passion I'll take no notice of, for I am your friend, and would not have you my rival to make yourself ridiculous.--Come, prithee, prithee, don't be so concerned; for, as I was saying, women first fool their fathers, then their gallants, and then their husbands; so that it will be my turn to be fooled too (for your comfort); and when they come to be widows, they would fool the devil, I vow and swear.--Come, come, dear Gerrard, prithee don't be out of humour, and look so sillily.
_Ger._ Prithee do not talk so sillily.
_Mons._ Nay, faith, I am resolved to beat you out of this ill-humour.
_Ger._ Faith, I am afraid I shall first beat you into an ill-humour.
_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! that thou shouldst be gulled so by a little gipsy, who left off her bib but yesterday!--faith I can't but laugh at thee.
_Ger._ Faith, then I shall make your mirth (as being too violent) conclude in some little misfortune to you. The fool begins to be tyrannical.
_Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! poor angry dancing-master! prithee match my Spanish pumps and legs with one of your best and newest sarabands; ha! ha! ha! come--
_Ger._ I will match your Spanish ear, thus, sir, and make you dance thus. [_Strikes and kicks him._
_Mons._ How! sa! sa! sa! then I'll make you dance thus. [Monsieur _draws his sword and runs at him, but_ GERRARD _drawing, he retires._
Hold! hold a little!--[_Aside._] A desperate disappointed lover will cut his own throat, then sure he will make nothing of cutting his rival's throat.
_Ger._ Consideration is an enemy to fighting; if you have a mind to revenge yourself, your sword's in your hand.
_Mons._ Pray, sir, hold your peace; I'll ne'er take my rival's counsel, be't what 'twill. I know what you would be at; you are disappointed of your mistress, and could hang yourself, and therefore will not fear hanging. But I am a successful lover, and need neither hang for you nor my mistress: nay, if I should kill you, I know I should do you a kindness; therefore e'en live, to die daily with envy of my happiness. But if you will needs die, kill yourself, and be damned for me, I vow and swear.
_Ger._ But won't you fight for your mistress?
_Mons._ I tell you, you shall not have the honour to be killed for her: besides I will not be hit in the teeth by her as long as I live, with the great love you had for her. Women speak well of their dead husbands; what will they do of their dead gallants?
_Ger._ But if you will not fight for her, you shall dance for her, since you desired me to teach you to dance too;--I'll teach you to dance thus--[_Strikes his sword at his legs,_ Monsieur _leaps._
_Mons._ Nay, if it be for the sake of my mistress, there's nothing I will refuse to do.
_Ger._ Nay, you must dance on.
_Mons._ Ay, ay, for my mistress, and sing too, la, la, la, ra, la.
_Enter_ HIPPOLITA _and_ PRUE.
_Hip._ What! swords drawn betwixt you two! what's the matter?
_Mons._ [_Aside._] Is she here?--[_Aloud._] Come, put up your sword; you see this is no place for us; but the devil eat me if you shall not eat my sword, but--
_Hip._ What's the matter, cousin?
_Mons._ Nothing, nothing, cousin, but your presence is a sanctuary for my greatest enemy, or else, _tête non!_--
_Hip._ What, you have not hurt my cousin, sir, I hope? [_To_ GERRARD.
_Ger._ How! she's concerned for him! nay, then I need not doubt, my fears are true. [_Aside._
_Mons._ What was that you said, cousin? hurt me!--ha! ha! ha! hurt me!--if any man hurt me, he must do it basely; he shall ne'er do it when my sword's drawn, sa! sa! sa!
_Hip._ Because you will ne'er draw your sword, perhaps.
_Mons._ [_Aside._] Scurvily guessed.--[_Aloud._] You ladies may say anything; but, cousin, pray do not you talk of swords and fighting; meddle with your guitar, and talk of dancing with your dancing-master there, ha! ha! ha!
_Hip._ But I am afraid you have hurt my master, cousin:--he says nothing; can he draw his breath?
_Mons._ No, 'tis you have hurt your master, cousin, in the very heart, cousin, and therefore he would hurt me; for love is a disease makes people as malicious as the plague does.
_Hip._ Indeed, poor master, something does ail you.
_Mons._ Nay, nay, cousin, faith don't abuse him any longer; he's an honest gentleman, and has been long of my acquaintance, and a man of tolerable sense, to take him out of his love; but prithee, cousin, don't drive the jest too far for my sake.
_Ger._ He counsels you well, pleasant, cunning, jilting miss, for his sake; for if I am your divertisement, it shall be at his cost, since he's your gallant in favour.