The Old Bachelor: a Comedy - LightNovelsOnl.com
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ARAM. There's poison in everything you touch. Blisters will follow--
VAIN. That tongue, which denies what the hands have done.
ARAM. Still mystically senseless and impudent; I find I must leave the place.
VAIN. No, madam, I'm gone. She knows her name's to it, which she will be unwilling to expose to the censure of the first finder.
ARAM. Woman's obstinacy made me blind to what woman's curiosity now tempts me to see. [_Takes up the letter_.]
SCENE XIII.
BELINDA, SHARPER.
BELIN. Nay, we have spared n.o.body, I swear. Mr. Sharper, you're a pure man; where did you get this excellent talent of railing?
SHARP. Faith, madam, the talent was born with me:--I confess I have taken care to improve it, to qualify me for the society of ladies.
BELIN. Nay, sure, railing is the best qualification in a woman's man.
SCENE XIV.
[_To them_] FOOTMAN.
SHARP. The second best, indeed, I think.
BELIN. How now, Pace? Where's my cousin?
FOOT. She's not very well, madam, and has sent to know if your ladys.h.i.+p would have the coach come again for you?
BELIN. O Lord, no, I'll go along with her. Come, Mr. Sharper.
SCENE XV.
SCENE: _A chamber in Fondlewife's house_.
LAEt.i.tIA and BELLMOUR, his cloak, hat, etc., lying loose about the chamber.
BELL. Here's n.o.body, nor no noise--'twas nothing but your fears.
LAET. I durst have sworn I had heard my monster's voice. I swear I was heartily frightened; feel how my heart beats.
BELL. 'Tis an alarm to love--come in again, and let us--
FOND. [_Without_.] c.o.c.ky, c.o.c.ky, where are you, c.o.c.ky? I'm come home.
LAET. Ah! There he is. Make haste, gather up your things.
FOND. c.o.c.ky, c.o.c.ky, open the door.
BELL. Pox choke him, would his horns were in his throat. My patch, my patch. [_Looking about_, _and gathering up his things_.]
LAET. My jewel, art thou there?--No matter for your patch.--You s'an't tum in, Nykin--run into my chamber, quickly, quickly--You s'an't tum in.
FOND. Nay, prithee, dear, i'f.e.c.k I'm in haste.
LAET. Then I'll let you in. [_Opens the door_.]
SCENE XVI.
LAEt.i.tIA, FONDLEWIFE, SIR JOSEPH.
FOND. Kiss, dear--I met the master of the s.h.i.+p by the way, and I must have my papers of accounts out of your cabinet.
LAET. Oh, I'm undone! [_Aside_.]
SIR JO. Pray, first let me have fifty pound, good Alderman, for I'm in haste.
FOND. A hundred has already been paid by your order. Fifty? I have the sum ready in gold in my closet.
SCENE XVII.
LAEt.i.tIA, SIR JOSEPH.
SIR JO. Agad, it's a curious, fine, pretty rogue; I'll speak to her.--Pray, Madam, what news d'ye hear?
LAET. Sir, I seldom stir abroad. [_Walks about in disorder_.]
SIR JO. I wonder at that, Madam, for 'tis most curious fine weather.
LAET. Methinks 't has been very ill weather.
SIR JO. As you say, madam, 'tis pretty bad weather, and has been so a great while.
