The Busie Body Part 11

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, a Whim indeed! why is it not Demonstration I give my Leave when I marry thee.

_Miran._ Not for your Reputation, _Gardee_; the malicious World will be apt to say, you trick'd me into Marriage, and so take the Merit from my Choice. Now I will have the Act my own, to let the idle Fops see how much I prefer a Man loaded with Years and Wisdom.

Sir _Fran._ Humph! Prithee leave out Years, _Chargee_, I'm not so old, as thou shalt find: Adod, I'm young; there's a Caper for ye.

(_Jumps_.

_Miran._ Oh never excuse it, why I like you the better for being old--But I shall suspect you don't love me, if you Refuse me this Formality.

Sir _Fran._ Not Love thee, _Chargee!_ Adod I do love thee better than, than, than, better than--what shall I say? Egad, better than Money, I faith I do--

_Miran._ That's false I'm sure (_Aside._) To prove it do this then.

Sir _Fran._ Well, I will do it, _Chargee_, provided I bring a License at the same time.

_Miran._ Ay, and a Parson too, if you please; Ha, ha, ha, I can't help Laughing to think how all the young c.o.xcombs about Town will be mortify'd when they hear of our Marriage.

Sir _Fran._ So they will, so they will; Ha, ha, ha.

_Miran._ Well, I fancy I shall be so happy with my _Gardee!_

Sir _Fran._ If wearing Pearls and Jewels, or eating Gold, as the old Saying is, can make thee happy, thou shalt be so, my Sweetest, my Lovely, my Charming, my--verily I know not what to call thee.

_Miran._ You must know, _Gardee_, that I am so eager to have this Business concluded, that I have employ'd my Womans Brother, who is a Lawyer in the _Temple_, to settle Matters just to your Liking, you are to give your Consent to my Marriage, which is to your self, you know: But Mum, you must take up notice of that. So then I will, that is, with your Leave, put my Writings into his Hands; then to Morrow we come slap upon them with a Wedding, that no body thought on; by which you seize me and my Estate, and I suppose make a Bonfire of your own Act and Deed.

Sir _Fran._ Nay, but _Chargee_, if--

_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, no Ifs--Have I refus'd three _Northern_ Lords, two _British_ Peers, and half a score Knights, to have you put in your Ifs?--

Sir _Fran._ So thou hast indeed, and I will trust to thy Management. Od, I'm all of a Fire.

_Miran._ 'Tis a wonder the dry Stubble does not blaze.

_Enter _Marplot_._

Sir _Fran._ How now! who sent for you, Sir? What's the Hundred Pound gone already?

_Marpl._ No, Sir, I don't want Money now.

Sir _Fran._ No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want, I'm sure.

_Marpl._ Ay, what's that, _Guardian?_

Sir _Fran._ Manners, what had I no Servants without?

_Marpl._ None that cou'd do my Business, _Guardian_, which is at present with this Lady.

_Miran._ With me, Mr. _Marplot!_ what is it, I beseech you?

Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, what is it? any thing that relates to her may be deliver'd to me.

_Marpl._ I deny that.

_Miran._ That's more than I do, Sir.

_Marpl._ Indeed, Madam, why then to proceed: Fame says, that you and my most Conscionable _Guardian_ here, design'd, contriv'd, plotted and agreed to chouse a very civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, out of a Hundred Pound.

_Miran._ That I contrived it!

_Marpl._ Ay you--You said never a Word against it, so far you are Guilty.

Sir _Fran._ Pray tell that civil, honourable, honest Gentleman, that if he has any more such Sums to fool away, they shall be received like the last; Ha, ha, ha, ha, chous'd, quotha! But hark ye, let him know at the same time, that if he dare to report I trick'd him of it, I shall recommend a Lawyer to him shall shew him a Trick for twice as much; D'ye hear, tell him that.

_Marpl._ So, and this is the way you use a Gentleman, and my Friend.

_Miran._ Is the Wretch thy Friend?

_Marpl._ The Wretch! Look ye, Madam, don't call Names; Egad I won't take it.

_Miran._ Why you won't beat me, will you? Ha, ha.

_Marpl._ I don't know whether I will or no.

Sir _Fran._ Sir, I shall make a Servant shew you out at the Window if you are sawcy.

_Marpl._ I am your most humble Servant, _Guardian_; I design to go out the same way I came in. I wou'd only ask this Lady, if she do's not think in her Soul Sir _George Airy_ is not a fine Gentleman.

_Miram._ He Dresses well.

Sir _Fran._ Which is chiefly owing to his Taylor, and _Valet de Chamber_.

_Miran._ And if you allow that a proof of his being a fine Gentleman, he is so.

_Marpl._ The judicious part of the World allow him Wit, Courage, Gallantry and Management; tho' I think he forfeited that Character, when he flung away a Hundred Pound upon your Dumb Ladys.h.i.+p.

Sir _Fran._ Does that gaul him? Ha, ha, ha.

_Miran._ So, Sir _George_ remaining in deep Discontent, has sent you his trusty Squire, to utter his Complaint: Ha, ha, ha.

_Marpl._ Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, value it no more--than I wou'd your Ladys.h.i.+p, were I Sir _George_, you, you, you--

_Miran._ Oh, don't call Names. I know you love to be employ'd, and I'll oblige you; and you shall carry him a Message from me.

_Marpl._ According as I like it: What is it?

_Miran._ Nay, a kind one you may be sure--First tell him, I have chose this Gentleman to have, and to hold, and so forth.

(_Clapping her Hand into Sir _Francis_'s._

Sir _Fran._ Oh the dear Rogue, how I dote on her!