WE ACT II. SCENE, A Room in Whittle's Houfe. Nephew. (taking him by the band.) E are bound to you for ever, Mr Bates: I can fay no more; words but ill exprefs the real feelings of the heart. Bates. I know you are a good lad, or I would not have meddled in the matter; but the business is not yet completed till Signatum & Sigillatum. Neph. Let me fly to the Widow, and tell her how profperously we go on. Bates. Don't be in a hurry, young man; fhe is not in the dark I affure you, nor has the yet finish'd her part fo capital an actress should not be idle in the laft a&t. Neph. I could wish that you would let me come into my uncle's propofal at once, without vexing him farther. Bates. Then I declare off. Thou filly young man, are you to be dup'd by your own weak good nature, and his worldly craft? This does not arife from his love and juftice to you, but from his own miferable fituation; he muft be tortur'd into juftice: He fhall not only give up your whole eftate, which he is loth to part with, but you must now have a premium for agreeing to your own happiness. What, fhall your Widow, with wit and spirit, that would do the greateft honour to our fex, go thro' her task cheerfully; and fhall your courage give way, and be outdone by a woman's fie for shame! Neph. I beg your pardon, Mr Bates; I will follow your directions: be as hard-hearted as my uncle, and vex his body and mind for the good of his foul. Bates. That's a good child; and remember that your own and the Widow's future happiness depends upon your both going through this bufinefs with fpirit; make your uncle feel for himself, that he may do juftice to other people. Is the Widow ready for the laft experi ment? Neph. Neph. She is; but think what anxiety I fhall feel while fhe is in danger? Bates. Ha! ha! ha! fhe'll be in no danger; befides, fhan't we be at hand to affift her. Hark! I hear him coming: I'll probe his callous heart to the quick; and, if we are not paid for our trouble, fay I am no politician. Fly; now we shall do! [Exit Nephew. Enter Whittle. Whit. Well, Mr Bates, have you talk'd with my Nephew? is not he overjoyed at the propofal? Bates. The demon of difcord has been among you, and has untun'd the whole family; you have fcrew'd him too high the young man is out of his fenfes, I think; he ftares and mopes about, and fighs-looks at me indeed, but gives very abfurd anfwers. I don't like him. : Whit. What's the matter, think you? Bates. What I have always expected. There is a crack in your family, and you take it by turns! you have had it, and now transfer it to your Nephew; which, to your fhame be it spoken, is the only transfer you have ever made him. Whit. But am not I going to do him more than ju ftice? Bates. As you have done him much less than juftice hitherto, you can't begin too foon. Whit. Am not I going to give him the lady he likes, and which I was going to marry myself? Bates. Yes, that is, you are taking a perpetual blifter off your own back, to clap it upon his: What a tender uncle you are? Whit. But you don't confider the eftate which I fhall give him. Bates. Reftore to him, you mean-'tis his own, and you fhould have given it up long ago: you must do more, or Old Nick will have you. Your Nephew won't take the Widow off your hands without a fortunethrow him ten thousand into the bargain. Whit. Indeed, but I fhan't; he fhall run mad, and I'll marry her myself rather than do that. Mr Bates, be a true friend, and foothe my Nephew to confent to my propofal. Bates. Bates. You have rais'd the fiend, and ought to lay him; however, I'll do my beft for you: When the head is turn'd, nothing can bring it right again fo foon as ten thousand pounds. Shall I promise for you? Whit. I'll fooner go to Bedlam myself. [Exit Bates. Why I'm in a worse condition than I was before! If this Widow's father will not let me be off without providing for his daughter, I may lofe a great fum of money, and none of us be the better for it. My Nephew half mad; myself half married; and no remedy for either of us. Enter Servant. Serv. Sir Patrick O'Neale is come to wait upon you;would you please to fee him? Whit. By all means, the very person I wanted; don't let him wait. [Exit fervant. I wonder if he has feen my letter to the Widow; I will found him by degrees, that I may be fure of my mark before I ftrike the blow. Enter Sir Patrick. Sir Pat. Mr Whizzle, your humble fervant. It gives me great pleasure, that an old Jontleman of your pro perty, will have the honour of being united with the family of the O'Nales: We have been too much Jontle-men not to spend our eflate, as you have made yourself a kind of Jontleman by getting one.. One runs out one way, and t'other runs in another; which makes them both meet at laft, and keeps up the balance of Europe. Whit. I am much oblig'd to you, Sir Patrick; I am an old gentleman, you fay true; and I was thinking Sir Pat. And I was thinking if you were ever fo old, my daughter can't make you young again: She has as fine rich tick blood in her veins as any in all Ireland.. I wish you had a fwate crater of a daughter like mine,, that we might make a double cross of it. 3 Whit. That would be a double cross, indeed! (afide.) Sir Pat. Though. I was miferable enough with my first wife, who had the devil of a spirit, and the very model of her daughter; yet a brave man never fhrinks, from danger, and I may have better luck another time.. Whit. Yes, but I am no brave man, Sir Patrick; and I begin to fhrink, already. Sir Pat. I have bred her up in great fubjection; fhe is as tame as a young colt, and as tinder as a fucking chicken. You will find her a true Jontlewoman; and fo knowing, that you can teach her nothing: She brings every thing but money, and you have enough of that, if you have nothing elfe; and that is what I call the balance of things. Whit. But I have been confidering your daughter's great deferts, and my great age Sir Pat. She is a charming crater; I would venture to say that, if I was not her father. Whit. I fay, Sir, as I have been confidering your daughter's great deferts, and as I own I have great de merits Sir Pat. To be fure you have; but you can't help that: And if my daughter was to mention any thing of a fleering at your age, or your ftinginefs, by the ba lance of power, but I would make her repate it a hundred times to your face, to make her afham'd of it. But mum, old gentleman, the devil a word of your infirmities will the touch upon: I have brought her up to foftnefs, and to gentleness, as a kitten to new milk; she will fpake nothing but no, and yes, as if he were dumb; and no tame rabbit or pigeon will keep houfe, or be more inganious with her needle and tambourine. Whit. She is vaftly altered then, fince I faw her laft, or I have loft my fenses; and in either cafe we had much better, fince I muft fpeak plain, not come toge ther. Sir Pat. 'Till you are married, you mean- -With all my heart, it is the more gentale for that, and like our family: I never faw lady O'Neale, your mother-in-law, who poor crater is dead, and can never be a mother inlaw again, 'till the week before I married her; and I did not care if I had never feen her then; which is a comfort too in case of death, or accidents in life. Whit. But you don't understand me, Sir Patrick. I fay Sir Pat. I fay, how can that be, when we both spake English? Whit. But you mistake my meaning, and don't comprehend me. Sir Pat. Then you don't comprehend yourfelf, Mr Whizzle, and I have not the gift of prophefy to find out, after you have fpoke, what never was in you. Whit. Let me intreat you to attend to me a little. Sir Pat. I do attend, man; I don't interrupt you— out with it. Whit. Your daughter Sir Pat. Your wife that is to be. Go on Whit. My wife that is not to be-Zounds! will you hear me? Sir Pat. To be, or not to be, is that the question? I can fwear too, if it wants a little of that. Whit. Dear Sir Patrick, hear me. I confess myself unworthy of her; I have the greateft regard for you, Sir Patrick; I fhould think myfelf honour'd by being in your family; but there are many reasons Sir Pat. To be fure there are many reafons why an old man fhould not marry a young woman; but that was your business, and not mine. Whit. I have wrote a letter to your daughter, which I was in hopes you had feen, and brought me an anfwer to it. Sir Pat. What the devil, Mr Whizzle! do you make a letter-porter of me? Do you imagine, you dirty fellow, with your cafh, that Sir Patrick O'Nale would carry your letters? I would have you know that I defpife letters, and all that belong to 'em; nor would I carry a letter to the king, heaven blefs him! unless it came from myself. Whit. But, dear Sir Patrick, don't be in a paffion for nothing. Sir Pat. What, is it nothing to make a penny-poft man of me? But I'll go to my daughter directly, for I have not feen her to day; and if I find that you have written any thing that I won't understand, I shall take it as an affront to my family, and you shall either let out the noble blood of the O'Nales, or I will spill the laft drop of the red puddle of the Whizzles. (Going and returns). Harkee, you Mr Whizzle, Wheezzle, Whiftle, what's your name? You must not ftir till I come back; if you offer to ate, drink, or fleep, till my honour is fatisfy'd, 'twill be the worst male you ever took |