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Lean. Yes, rascal! that you have, and I'll
Sca. Well, sir, I confess, indeed, that-
Sca. About two months ago, you may remember, a maid servant died in the house
Lean. What of all that?
Sca. Nay, sir, if I confess you must not be
, go on.
Lean. What's the matter?
an action of 2001. They say 'tis a debt she left Sly. Your mistress, sir, is yonder arrested in hither to Dover; and, if you don't raise money unpaid at London, in the haste of her escape within these two hours to discharge her, she'll be hurried to prison.
Lean. Within these two hours?
Sly. Yes, sir, within these two hours. Lean. Ah, my poor Scapin! I want thy assistance. [SCAPIN walks about surlily. Sca. Ah, my poor Scapin! Now I'm your poor Scapin; now you've need of me.
Lean. No more! I pardon thee all that thou hast done, and worse, it thou art guilty of it.
Sca. No, no; never pardon me: run your sword in my guts; you'll do better to murder
Oct. Faith, Scapin, you must, you cannot but yield.
Sca. Well, then: But do you mark me, sir?
Sca. 'Twas said, she died for love of me, sir: another time, better words and gentler blows. But let that pass.
Lean. Death! you trifling buffoon. Sca. About a week after her death, I drest up myself like her ghost, and went into Madam Lucia, your mistress's chamber, where she lay half in, half out of bed, with her woman by her, reading an ungodly play-book.
Lean. And was it your impudence did that? Sca. They both believed it was a ghost to this hour. But it was myself played the goblin, to frighten her from the scurvy custom of lying awake at those unscasonable hours, hearing filthy plays, when she had never said her prayers. Lean. I shall remember you for all in time and place: But come to the point, and tell me what thou hast said to my father.
Sca. To your father? I have not so much as scen him since his return, and if you would ask him, he'll tell you so himself.
Lean. Yes, he told me himself, and told me all that thou bast said to him.
Sca. With your good leave, sir, then, he lied; I beg your pardon, I mean he was mistaken.
Lean. Will you promise to mind my business?
Sca. As I see convenient, care shall be taken.
Lean. Two hundred pounds.
Oct. As much.
Sca. [To LEANDER.] No more to be said; it shall be done: For you the contrivance is laid already; and for your father, though he be covetous to the last degree, yet, thanks be to Heaven, he's but a shallow person; his parts are not extraordinary: Do not take it ill, sir; for you have no resemblance of him, but that you are very like him. Begone! I see Octavian's father coming; I'll begin with him.
[Exeunt OCTAVIAN and LEANDER. Enter THRIFTY,
Here he comes, mumbling and chewing the cud, to prove himself a clean beast.
Thrifty. Oh, audacious boy, to commit so insolent a crime, and plunge himself in such a
Sly. Oh, sir, I bring you the most unhappy mischief!
Sca. Sir, your humble servant.
Thrifty. How do you, Scapin?
Thrifty. Have I not reason to be troubled ? Sca. The life of man is full of troubles, that's the truth on't: But your philosopher is always prepared. I remember an excellent proverb of the ancients, very fit for your case. Thrifty. What's that?
Sca. Pray, mind it; 'twill do ye a world of good.
Thrifty. What is't, I ask you?
Sca. Why, when the master of a family shall be absent any considerable time from his home or mansion, he ought, rationally, gravely, wisely, and philosophically, to revolve within his mind all the concurrent circumstances, that may, during the interval, conspire to the conjunction of those misfortunes, and troublesome accidents, that may intervene upon the said absence, and the interruption of his economical inspection into the remissness, negligences, frailties, and huge and perilous errors, which his substitutes, servants, or trustees, may be capable of, or liable or obnoxious unto; which may arise from the imperfection and corruptness of ingenerated natures, or the taint and contagion of corrupted education, whereby the fountainhead of man's disposition becomes muddy, and all the streams of his manners and conversation run consequently defiled and impure: These things premised, and forc-considered, arm the said prudent philosophical Pater-Familias, to find his house laid waste, his wife murdered, his daughters deflowered, his sons hanged:
⚫ Cum multis aliis, quæ nunc prescribere longum est.'
And to thank Heaven 'tis no worse, too. D'ye mark, sir?
Thrifty. 'Sdeath! Is all this a proverb? Sca. Ay, and the best proverb, and the wisest, in the world. Good sir, get it by heart:Twill do you the greatest good imaginable; and don't trouble yourself: I'll repeat it to you till you have gotten it by heart.
Thrifty. No, I thank you, sir; I'll have none on't.
their sons' miscarriages, but have bowels for them; I have much ado to refrain weeping for
Thrifty. Truly, my case is sad, very Scu. So it is. Tears will burst out; I have a for great respect your person.
[Counterfeits weeping. Thrifty. Thank you, with all my heart; in troth we should have a fellow-feeling.
Sca. Ay, so we should; I assure you there is not a person in the world whom I respect more than the noble Mr. Thrifty.
Thrifty. Thou art honest, Scapin. Ha' done ha' done.
Sca. Sir, your most humble servant.
Sca. Why, in brief, I have been with the brother of her, whom your wicked son has married.
Thrifty. What is he?
Sca. A most outrageous, roaring fellow, with a down hanging look, contracted brow, with a swelled red face, enflamed with brandy; one that frowns, puffs, and looks big at all mankind; roars out oaths, and bellows out curses enough in a day to serve a garrison a week; bred up in blood and rapine; used to slaughter from his youth upwards; one that makes no more conscience of killing a man, than cracking of a louse; he has killed sixteen; four for taking the wall of him; five for looking too big upon him. In short, he is the most dreadful of all the race of bullies.
Thrifty. Heaven! How do I tremble at the description? But what's this to my business?
Sca. Why, he (as most bullies are) is in want, and I have brought him, by threatening him with all the courses of law, all the assistance of your friends, and your great purse, (in which I ventured my life ten times, for so often he drew and run at me) yet, I say, at last I have made him hearken to a composition, and to null the marriage for a sum of money.
Thrifty. Thanks, dear Scapin, but what sum? Sca. Faith, he was damnably unreasonable at first; and gad, I told him so very roundly. Thrifty. A pox on him! what did he ask?
Sca. Ask! hang him! why he asked five hun
Sca. Pray do, you'll like it better next time; hear it once more, I sayWhen the mas-dred pounds. ter of a
Thrifty. Hold, hold; I have better thoughts of my own; I am going to my lawyer; I'll null the marriage.
Thrifty. Ouns and heart, five hundred pounds! five hundred devils take him-and fry and frickasee the dog! does he take me for a mad
Sca. Going to law! Are you mad, to venture Sca. Why, so I said; and after much argument, yourself among lawyers? Do you not see every I brought him to this: Damme,' says he, I day how the spunges suck poor clients, and, am going to the army, and I must have two with a company of foolish nonsensical terms,good horses for myself, for fear one should die; and knavish tricks, undo the nation? No, you shall take another way.
Thrifty. You have reason, if there were any other way.
Sco. Come, I have found one. The truth is, I have a great compassion for your grief. cannot, when I see tender fathers afflicted for
and those will cost at least threescore guineas.' Thrifty. Hang him rogue! why should he have two horses? But I care not if I give three score guineas to be rid of this affair.
Sca. Well reckoned: 'Faith, this arithmetic is | pleadings of doctors, for the register, substitute, a fine art. Then, I must have one for my boy,judgments, signings-Expedition fees, besides will cost twenty more. the vast presents to them and their wives. Hang it the fellow is out of employment; give him the money, give him it, I say.
Thrifty. Oh, the devil! confounded dog! let him go and be damned! I'll give him nothing. Sca. Sir.
Thrifty. Not a sous, damned rascal! let him turn foot soldier, and be hanged!
Sca. He has a man besides; would you have him go a-foot?
Thrifty. Ay, and his master too; I'll have nothing to do with him.
Sca. Well, you are resolved to spend twice as much at Doctors' Commons, you are; you will stand out for such a sum as this, do.
Thrifty. O, damned, unconscious rascal, well! if it must be so, let him have the other twenty. Sca. Twenty! why it comes to forty. Thrifty. No, I'll have nothing to do in it. Oh, a covetous rogue ! I wonder he is not ashamed to be so covetous.
Sca. Why, this is nothing to the charge at Doctors' Commons: and though her brother has no money, she bas an uncle able to defend her.
Thrifty. O, eternai rogue! well, I must do it; the devil's in him, I think!
Sca. Then, says he, I must carry into France money, to buy a mule, to carry
Thrifty. Let him go to the devil with his mule; I'll appeal to the judges.
Sca. Nay, good sir, think a little.
Sca. Sir, sir; but one little mule?
Thrifty. I will not consider; I'll go to law. Sca. I am sure if you go to law, you do not consider the appeals, degrees of jurisdiction, the intricate proceedings, the knaveries, the craving of so many ravenous animals, that will prey upon you! villainous harpies, promoters, tipstaves, and the like; none of which but will puff away the clearest right in the world for a bribe. On the other side, the proctor shall side with your adversary, and sell your cause for ready money: Your advocate shall be gained the same way, and shall not be found when your cause is to be heard. Law is the torment of all torments.
Thrifty. That's true: why, what does the damned rogue- -reckon for his mule?
Sca. Why, for horses, furniture, mule, and to pay some scores that are due to his landlady, he demands, and will have, two hundred pounds.
Thrifty. Come, come, let us go to law.
Sca. Do not plunge yourself-
Sca. Why, there's for procuration, presentation, councils, productions, proctors, attendance, and scribbling vast volumes of interrogatories, depositions, and articles, consultations, and
Thrifty. What, two hundred pounds! Sca. Ay, ay; why, you'll gain 1501. by it, I have summed it up; I say, give it him, i'faith do. Thrifty. What, two hundred pounds!
Sca. Ay; besides, you ne'er think how they'll rail at you in pleading, tell all your fornications, bastardings, and commutings, in their courts. Thrifty. I defy them; let them tell of my whoring-'tis the fashion!
Sca. Peace! here's the brother.
Enter SHIFT, disguised like a Bully. Shift. Damme! where's this confounded dog, this father of Octavian ? Null the marriage! By all the honour of my ancestors, I'll chine the villain.
Thrifty. Oh, oh!
[Hides himself behind SCAPIN. Sca. He cares not, sir; he'll not give the two hundred pounds.
Shift. By Heaven! he shall be worm's meat within these two hours!
Sca. Sir, he has courage; he fears you not. Thrifty. You lie, I have not courage; I do fear him mortally!
Shift. He, he, he! Ounds he would all his family were in him, I'd cut off root and branch. Dishonour my sister! this in his guts! What fellow's that? ha!
Sca. Not he, sir.
Shift. Nor none of his friends?
Thrifty. No, sir; hang him, I am his mortal enemy?
Shift. Art thou the cnemy of that rascal ? Thrifty. Oh! ay, hang him—Oh damned bully! [Aside. Shift. Give me thy hand, old boy; the next sun shall not see the impudent rascal alive. Sca. He'll muster up all his relations against you.
Thrifty. Do not provoke him, Scapin.
[He forms every way with his sword. Here I had one through the lungs, there another into the heart: Ha! there another into the guts: Ah, rogues ! there I was with you-hah! hah!
Sca. Hold, sir; we are none of your enemies. Shift. No, but I will find the villains out while my blood is up! I will destroy the whole family. Ha, ha, ha. [Exit SHIFT fencing.
Thrifty. Here, Scapin, I have two hundred guineas about me, take them. No more to be said. Let me never see his face again. Take them, I say. This is the devil!
Sca. Will you not give them him yourself? Thrifty. No, no! I will never see him more": I shall not recover this these three months! See the business done. I trust in thee, honest Sca
pin-I must repose somewhere-I am mightily | my son, and stay as a pledge in his room, till I can raise the money. out of order-A plague on all bullies, I say! [Exit THRIFTY. Sca. So, there's one dispatched; I must now find out Gripe. He's here; how Heaven brings them into my nets, one after another!
Gripe. What is it?
Sca. Alas, sir! think you the captain has so little wit as to accept of such a poor rascally fellow as I am, instead of your son?
Gripe. What the devil did he do a shipboard? Sca. D'ye remember, sir, that you have but an hour's time?
Gripe. Thou sayest he demands
Sca. Two hundred pounds.
Gripe. Two hundred pounds! Has the fellow no conscience?
Sca. O lord the conscience of a pirate! why, very few lawful captains have any.
Gripe. Has he not reason neither? Does he know what the sum two hundred pounds is?
Sca. Yes, sir; tarpawlins are a sort of people that understand money, though they have no great acquaintance with sense. But, for Heaven's sake, dispatch!
Gripe. Here, take the key of the countinghouse.
Sca. So !
Gripe. And open it.
Sca, Very good.
Gripe. In the left-hand window lies the key of my garret; go, take all the clothes that are in the great chest, and sell them to the brokers to redeem my son.
Sca. I met him a while ago, disordered for something you had said to him, wherein you very Sca. Sir, you're mad! I shan't get fifty shilidly made use of my name, and seeking to di-lings for all that's there, and you know that I am vert his melancholy, we went to walk upon the straitened for time. pier: amongst other things, he took particular notice of a new caper in her full trim. The captain invited us on board, and gave us the handsomest collation I ever met with.
Gripe. Well, and where's the disaster of all
Gripe. What a devil did he do a shipboard ! Sca. Let shipboard alone, and consider, sir, your son. But Heaven's my witness, I have done for him as much as was possible; and if he be not redeemed, he may thank his father's kindness.
Gripe. Well, sir, I'll go see if I can raise the money-was it not ninescore pounds you spoke of? Sca. No; two hundred pounds.
Sca. While we were eating, he put to sea; and when we were a good distance from the shore, he discovered himself to be an English renegado, | that was entertained in the Dutch service, and sent me off in his long-boat to tell you, that if you don't forthwith send him two hundred pounds, he'll carry away your son prisoner: nay for aught I know, he'll carry him a slave to Al-dred pounds sterling. giers.
Gripe. How, in the devil's name? two hundred pounds!
Sca. Yes, sir; and more than that, he has allowed me but an hour's time; you must advise quickly what course to take, to save an only son! Gripe. What a devil had he to do a shipboard? -Run quickly, Scapin, and tell the villain, I'll send my lord chief justice's warrant after him.
Sca. O lord! his warrant in the open sea! d'ye think pirates are fools?
Gripe. Ith' devil's name, what business had be a shipboard?
Sca. There is an unlucky fate, that often hurries men to mischief, sir.
Gripe. Scapin, thou must now act the part of
a faithful servant.
Sce. As how, sir?
Gripe What two hundred pounds Dutch,
Sca. No, sir; I mean English money; two hun
Gripe. I' th' devil's name, what business had he a shipboard? Confounded shipboard!
Sca. This shipboard sticks in his stomach. Gripe. Hold, Scapin! I remember I received the very sum just now in gold, but I did not think I should have parted with it so soon. [He presents ScAPIN his purse, but will not
let it go; and in his anxiety pulls his arm to and fro, whilst SCAPIN reuches
Sca. Ay, sir.
Gripe. But tell the captain he is the son of a whore !
Sca. Yes, sir.
Gripe. A dogbolt.
Sca. I shall, sir.
Gripe. A thief! a robber! and that he forces me to pay him two hundred pounds contrary to
Gripe. Thou must go bid the pirate send me all law or equity.
Sca. Nay, let me alone with him. Gripe. That I will never forgive him, dead or alive.
Sca. Very good.
Gripe. And that if ever I light on him, I'll murder him privately, and feed dogs with him. [He puts up his purse and is going away. Sca. Right, sir.
Gripe. Now, make haste, and go and redeem my son.
Sca. Ay; but dy'e hear, sir? where's the money?
Gripe. Did I not give it thee.
Sca. Indeed, sir, you made me believe you would, but you forgot, and put it in your pocket again.
Gripe. Ah-my griefs and fears fot my son make me do I know not what!
Sca. Ay, sir; I see it does indeed. Gripe. What a devil did he do a shipboard? damned pirate! damned renegade! all the devils in hell pursue thee! [Exit.
Sca. How easily a miser swallows a load, and how difficultly he disgorges a grain! but I'll not leave him so; he's like to pay in other coin, for telling tales of me to his son.
Enter LUCIA and CLARA.
Luc. Was ever such a trick played, for us to run away from our governesses, where our careful fathers had placed us, to follow a couple of young gentlemen, only because they said they loved us? I think 'twas a very noble enterprize! I am afraid the good fortune, we shall get will very hardly recompense the reputation we have lost by it.
Cla. Our greatest satisfaction is, that they are men of fashion and credit; and, for any part, I long ago resolved not to marry any other, nor such an one either, till I had a perfect confirmation of his love; and 'twas an assurance of Octavian's that brought me hither.
Luc. I must confess, I had no less a sense of the faith and honour of Leander.
Clar. But seems it not wonderful, that the circumstances of our fortune should be so nearly allied, and ourselves so much strangers? Besides, If I mistake not, I see something in Leander, so much resembling a brother of mine of the same name, that, did not the time since I saw him make me fearful, I should be often apt to call him so.
Luc. I have a brother too, whose name's Octavian, bred in Italy, and just as my father took his voyage, returned home; not knowing where to find me, I believe is the reason I have not seen him yet. But if I deceive not myself,
there is something in your Octavian that ex. tremely refreshes my memory of him.
Cla. I wish we might be so happy as we are inclined to hope; but there's a strange blind side in our natures, which always makes us apt to believe, what we most earnestly desire.
Luc. The worst, at last, is but to be forsaken by our fathers: and, for my part, I had rather lose an old father than a young lover, when I may with reputation keep him, and secure myself against the imposition of fatherly authority.
Cla. How unsufferable is it to be sacrificed to the arms of a nauseous blockhead, that has no other sense than to eat and drink, when 'tis provided for him, rise in the morning, and go to bed at night, and with much ado be persuaded to keep himself clean!
Luc. A thing of mere flesh and blood, and that of the worst sort too, with a squinting meagre hang-dog countenance, that looks as if he always wanted physic for the worms.
Cla. Yet such their silly parents are generally most indulgent to; like apes, never so well pleased as when they are fondling with their ugly issue.
Luc. Twenty to one, but to some such charming creatures our careful fathers had designed us!
Cla. Parents think they do their daughters the greatest kindness in the world, when they get them fools for their husbands; and yet are very apt to take it ill, if they make the right use of them.