Love for Love | Page 6

fare to be paid him like the wages of
sin, either at the day of marriage, or the day of death.
VAL. Very well, sir; can you proceed?
JERE. Sometimes like a bilked bookseller, with a meagre terrified
countenance, that looks as if he had written for himself, or were
resolved to turn author, and bring the rest of his brethren into the same
condition. And lastly, in the form of a worn-out punk, with verses in
her hand, which her vanity had preferred to settlements, without a
whole tatter to her tail, but as ragged as one of the muses; or as if she
were carrying her linen to the paper-mill, to be converted into folio

books of warning to all young maids, not to prefer poetry to good sense,
or lying in the arms of a needy wit, before the embraces of a wealthy
fool.
SCENE II.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL, JEREMY.
SCAN. What, Jeremy holding forth?
VAL. The rogue has (with all the wit he could muster up) been
declaiming against wit.
SCAN. Ay? Why, then, I'm afraid Jeremy has wit: for wherever it is,
it's always contriving its own ruin.
JERE. Why, so I have been telling my master, sir: Mr Scandal, for
heaven's sake, sir, try if you can dissuade him from turning poet.
SCAN. Poet! He shall turn soldier first, and rather depend upon the
outside of his head than the lining. Why, what the devil, has not your
poverty made you enemies enough? Must you needs shew your wit to
get more?
JERE. Ay, more indeed: for who cares for anybody that has more wit
than himself?
SCAN. Jeremy speaks like an oracle. Don't you see how worthless
great men and dull rich rogues avoid a witty man of small fortune?
Why, he looks like a writ of enquiry into their titles and estates, and
seems commissioned by heaven to seize hte better half.
VAL. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be revenged.
SCAN. Rail? At whom? The whole world? Impotent and vain! Who
would die a martyr to sense in a country where the religion is folly?
You may stand at bay for a while; but when the full cry is against you,
you shan't have fair play for your life. If you can't be fairly run down by
the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by the huntsmen. No, turn

pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or
stallion to an old woman, anything but poet. A modern poet is worse,
more servile, timorous, and fawning, than any I have named: without
you could retrieve the ancient honours of the name, recall the stage of
Athens, and be allowed the force of open honest satire.
VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character had
been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently bent upon
the trade. [One knocks.] Jeremy, see who's there. [JERE. goes to the
door.] But tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say
of me, and my forced confinement?
SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions;
some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame
you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and
pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults.
VAL. How now?
JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns
with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.
VAL. What answer have you given 'em?
SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.
JERE. No, faith, sir; I have put 'em off so long with patience and
forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced now to tell 'em in
plain downright English -
VAL. What?
JERE. That they should be paid.
VAL. When?
JERE. To-morrow.
VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word?

JERE. Keep it? Not at all; it has been so very much stretched that I
reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at
the matter. [Knocking.] Again! Sir, if you don't like my negotiation,
will you be pleased to answer these yourself?
VAL. See who they are.
SCENE III.
VALENTINE, SCANDAL.
VAL. By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great; secretaries
of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army lead just
such a life as I do; have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all
soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay
claim to voluntary debts.
SCAN. And you, like a true great man, having engaged their attendance,
and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more
perplexed to find evasions than