The Beaux-Stratagem | Page 9

it holds somewhat above two hundred pound: if you doubt it
I'll count it to you after supper; but be sure you lay it where I may have
it at a minute's warning; for my affairs are a little dubious at present;
perhaps I may be gone in half an hour, perhaps I may be your guest till
the best part of that be spent; and pray order your ostler to keep my
horses always saddled. But one thing above the rest I must beg, that
you would let this fellow have none of your Anno Domini, as you call it;
for he's the most insufferable sot--Here, sirrah, light me to my chamber.
[Exit, lighted by Archer.
Bon. Cherry! daughter Cherry! {315}
Re-enter Cherry.
Cher. D'ye call, father?
Bon. Ay, child, you must lay by this box for the gentleman: 'tis full of
money.
Cher. Money! all that money! why, sure, father, the gentleman comes
to be chosen parliament-man. Who is he? {321}
Bon. I don't know what to make of him; he talks of keeping his horses

ready saddled, and of going perhaps at a minute's warning, or of staying
perhaps till the best part of this be spent.
Cher. Ay, ten to one, father, he's a highwayman.
Bon. A highwayman! upon my life, girl, you have hit it, and this box is
some new-purchased booty. Now, could we find him out, the money
were ours.
Cher. He don't belong to our gang. {330}
Bon. What horses have they?
Cher. The master rides upon a black.
Bon. A black! ten to one the man upon the black mare; and since he
don't belong to our fraternity, we may betray him with a safe
conscience: I don't think it lawful to harbour any rogues but my own.
Look'ee, child, as the saying is, we must go cunningly to work, proofs
we must have; the gentleman's servant loves drink, I'll ply him that way,
and ten to one loves a wench: you must work him t' other way. {341}
Cher. Father, would you have me give my secret for his?
Bon. Consider, child, there's two hundred pound to boot.--[Ringing
without.] Coming! coming!--Child, mind your business. [Exit.
Cher. What a rogue is my father! My father! I deny it. My mother was
a good, generous, free-hearted woman, and I can't tell how far her good
nature might have extended for the good of her children. This landlord
of mine, for I think I can call him no more, would betray his guest, and
debauch his daughter into the bargain--by a footman too!
Re-enter Archer.
Arch. What footman, pray, mistress, is so happy as to be the subject of
your contemplation? {355}
Cher. Whoever he is, friend, he'll be but little the better for't.

Arch. I hope so, for, I 'm sure, you did not think of me.
Cher. Suppose I had?
Arch. Why, then, you 're but even with me; for the minute I came in, I
was a-considering in what manner I should make love to you.
Cher. Love to me, friend!
Arch. Yes, child. {364}
Cher. Child! manners!--If you kept a little more distance, friend, it
would become you much better.
Arch. Distance! good-night, sauce-box. [Going.
Cher. [Aside.] A pretty fellow! I like his pride.-- [Aloud.] Sir, pray, sir,
you see, sir [Archer returns] I have the credit to be entrusted with your
master's fortune here, which sets me a degree above his footman; I
hope, sir, you an't affronted? {372}
Arch. Let me look you full in the face, and I 'll tell you whether you can
affront me or no. 'Sdeath, child, you have a pair of delicate eyes, and
you don't know what to do with 'em!
Cher. Why, sir, don't I see everybody?
Arch. Ay, but if some women had 'em, they would kill everybody.
Prithee, instruct me, I would fain make love to you, but I don't know
what to say. {380}
Cher. Why, did you never make love to anybody before?
Arch. Never to a person of your figure I can assure you, madam: my
addresses have been always confined to people within my own sphere,
I never aspired so high before. [Sings.
But you look so bright, And are dress'd so tight, That a man would
swear you 're right, As arm was e'er laid over. {390}

Such an air You freely wear To ensnare, As makes each guest a lover!
Since then, my dear, I 'm your guest, Prithee give me of the best Of
what is ready drest: Since then, my dear, etc.
Cher. [Aside.] What can I think of this man?--[Aloud.] Will you give
me that song, sir? {400}
Arch. Ay, my dear, take it while 'tis warm.--[Kisses her.] Death and fire!
her lips are honeycombs.
Cher. And I wish there had been