Toby. Me? how fo, Mrs. Betty? Betfy. Is that a queftion now to be asked? have you fo foon forgot what has happened between us? Toby. No, no; I remember fome part pretty well, I believe: But you cannot come for to go for to fay, that we ever went to church together, in that there way you mean. Betfy. That ceremony, Mr. Toby, you know well, was all that was wanting Toby. Befides, it could not be, Mrs. Betfy; because why, as father fays, fince the parliamenthoufe interfered, it is against the law to marry for love. Betfy. How! what, are all your vows, oaths, promises, forgot? does not this fixpence, broken between us, when we laft met in the grove, ftare you full in the face? Toby. Yes; I have t'other half in my pocket. Betfy. Does not your confcience, Mr. Toby, upbraid you? But men are all traitors alike! their whole study is to delude poor innocent maids. Oh! why did I trust that fair face and flattering tongue, and not fufpect the wily ferpent that was lurking beneath? Toby. Nay, Betfy Betfy. But my prayers are granted, however; my only wish was to fee you once more Toby. My fweet, dear, little Betsy- Betfy. Once more to furvey that sweet form; the business of life is now over! Eyes, take your laft look! open, thou cold earth, to receive meToby. Lord have mercy! if you don't frighten me out of my wits. Betfy. To thy dreary manfion I come! there my my forrows will ceafe, and my fhame, and name be forgot by the unpitying-Oh'! [Faints. Toby. Stop, ftop, deareft Betfy, and take me along with you! Murder, fire, water! Waiter! what, will nobody come to affift her? Enter Tom. Tom. Blefs me, Sir! what can be the matter? Toby. Why, here is a poor young creature at her laft gafp: Clap her hand, and bend her forward a bit! Tom. Mifs Betfy? mercy on us! how came this about? It is only a fit; fhe revives, her eyes. begin to open a little. Betfy. Where am I? Toby. In the fore-room, up one pair of stairs. Tom. Blefs me, Sir, what can be the occafion of this? Toby. Why, it is a young woman that is breaking her heart. Tom. Her heart? and for what? Toby. Why, for love of me, to be fure. Tam. And can you be fuch a barbarian? why, you must have the heart of a tiger, to ftand unfhocked at fuch a horrible scene, Toby. Nay, I have been fhocked enough, if that is all. Tom. Then why don't you remove her distress.? Toby. Why, the wants me to marry her. Tom. And is that all she asks; and can you hefitate for fuch a trifle as that? Toby. Why, how can I, when father and mother have promised me to an Indian woman, as rich as a Jew, from beyond fea? Betfy. How! and have I a rival? perjured monfter! But think not my death fhall finally clofe close our account; my fhade, like Margaret's grimly ghoft, fhall pursue thee, haunt thee in dreams at midnight, fhake thy curtains round thy guilty head, and holloa in thine ear! Bethink thee, Toby, of thy fault, Thy pledge and broken oath; And give me back my troth. Toby Take it with you, Mrs. Betty, whenever you please. Betfy [Sings]. For this I'll haunt thy midnight dreams, And hover round thy bed; Thy ears I'll fill with horrid fcreams, Nor leave thee till thou'rt dead. Toby. Why, you won't go to be fo cruel, I hope! what, is there no amends to be made? Tom, So, Sir, you fee, dead or alive, she is determined to plague you. Toby. Yes, yes; I fee it well enough. Lord, who could have thought it? he is mightily changed fince her coming to London. Tom. This town is apt to open the mind. Toby. Is it? I hope it will fhut again, though, when the gets into the country. But pray, Mr. What-d'ye-call-em, by what chance did Betfy come here? Tom. My Mistress took her in, out of compaffion: It is wonderful how charitable a lady fhe is! why, we have five or fix more young women here in the fame fituation. Toby. Indeed? fhe must be the most goodest woman on earth: Well, if the don't go to heaven, what chance has fuch a poor creature as I ? Tom. Tom. None at all, unless you repair the wrongs fhe has fuffered. Toby. But if I was minded to comply with her wish, I don't see how I can bring it about. Tom. You are one-and-twenty, no doubt. Toby. These three years and above. Tom. And Mifs? Toby. Within a twelvemonth of me. Tom. Oh, then I will manage matters, I warrant. Where are you going? Toby. To call on father, at a fhop near the old black man a-horfeback; the wind has blown his hat from his head. Tom. Very well! Give them the flip as soon as you can; run back here; you will find usBetfy. What, is he a-going? oh! Toby. Nay, Betfy, be quiet! ben't I ready to do all that you want? If you faint any more, I wifh I may die if I'll have you. Betfy. Won't you? Toby. No. Tom. Courage, Mifs! keep up your Toby. Right, Mr., or, if the muft faint, can't the wait a little, till I get out of the house? Exit. Tom. He is off: Finely managed! Do not ftir from hence; I will run to the Commons, and be back again in a-One kiss as a reward for the part I have Enter Toby. Toby. I forgot to ask, Sir, where I fhould- will make the best of my way Tom and Betfy. Ha, ha, ha! [Exit. [Exeunt ACT ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Mrs. Fleece'em and Prig. Mrs. Fleece'em. IT is lucky the Doctor is at home [afide] John, you may take the filks of Mr. Prig, and put them into the coach. How could I be fo giddy to forget my purfe, and leave it on the table? All my fervants are honeft, I hope. Prig. No doubt; it would be the greatestest of crimes, to injure a lady of your affability and aimiability. Mrs. Fl. Quite polite, I proteft, Mr. Prig! I am forry, however, Sir, to have given you all this trouble. Prig. I confider it, madam, as one of the most greatefteft pieces of happiness that could have befallen Paul Prig. Your la'fhip is a perfect pattern of humility: To fuffer a fimple tradesman like me to occupy part of your la'ship's coach, is fuch an honour that Mrs. Fl. Honour! by no means, Mr. Prig: I don't know a ftation more useful, or indeed more reputable, than that of a citizen like you, who condefcends to employ his genius in adorning his fellow creatures. The ladies, indeed, are moft obliged to your labours. Prig. Were all the ladies like you, madam, my condition would be celestial indeed; for, as Mafter Shakspur fays, "The labour we delight in phyficks pain." D Mrs. |
