The Blunderer | Page 4

despair, for since you aid me, I ought to take courage. I know that your mind can plan many intrigues, and never finds anything too difficult; that you should be called the prince of servants, and that throughout the whole world....
MASC. A truce to these compliments; when people have need of us poor servants, we are darlings, and incomparable creatures; but at other times, at the least fit of anger, we are scoundrels, and ought to be soundly thrashed.
LEL. Nay, upon my word, you wrong me by this remark. But let us talk a little about the captive. Tell me, is there a heart so cruel, so unfeeling, as to be proof against such charming features? For my part, in her conversation as well as in her countenance, I see evidence of her noble birth. I believe that Heaven has concealed a lofty origin beneath such a lowly station.
MASC. You are very romantic with all your fancies. But what will Pandolphus do in this case? He is your father, at least he says so. You know very well that his bile is pretty often stirred up; that he can rage against you finely, when your behaviour offends him. He is now in treaty with Anselmo about your marriage with his daughter, Hippolyta; imagining that it is marriage alone that mayhap can steady you: now, should he discover that you reject his choice, and that you entertain a passion for a person nobody knows anything about; that the fatal power of this foolish love causes you to forget your duty and disobey him; Heaven knows what a storm will then burst forth, and what fine lectures you will be treated to.
LEL. A truce, I pray, to your rhetoric.
MASC. Rather a truce to your manner of loving, it is none of the best, and you ought to endeavour.
LEL. Don't you know, that nothing is gained by making me angry, that remonstrances are badly rewarded by me, and that a servant who counsels me acts against his own interest?
MASC. (_Aside_). He is in a passion now. (_Aloud_). All that I said was but in jest, and to try you. Do I look so very much like a censor, and is Mascarille an enemy to pleasure? You know the contrary, and that it is only too certain people can tax me with nothing but being too good-natured. Laugh at the preachings of an old grey-beard of a father; go on, I tell you, and mind them not. Upon my word, I am of opinion that these old, effete and grumpy libertines come to stupify us with their silly stories, and being virtuous, out of necessity, hope through sheer envy to deprive young people of all the pleasures of life! You know my talents; I am at your service.
LEL. Now, this is talking in a manner I like. Moreover, when I first declared my passion, it was not ill received by the lovely object who inspired it; but, just now, Leander has declared to me that he is preparing to deprive me of Celia; therefore let us make haste; ransack your brain for the speediest means to secure me possession of her; plan any tricks, stratagems, rogueries, inventions, to frustrate my rival's pretensions.
MASC. Let me think a little upon this matter. (_Aside_). What can I invent upon this urgent occasion?
LEL. Well, the stratagem?
MASC. What a hurry you are in! My brain must always move slowly. I have found what you want; you must... No, that's not it; but if you would go...
LEL. Whither?
MASC. No, that's a flimsy trick. I thought that...
LEL. What is it?
MASC. That will not do either. But could you not...?
LEL. Could I not what?
MASC. No, you could not do anything. Speak to Anselmo.
LEL. And what can I say to him?
MASC. That is true; that would be falling out of the frying-pan into the fire. Something must be done however. Go to Trufaldin.
LEL. What to do?
MASC. I don't know.
LEL. Zounds! this is too much. You drive me mad with this idle talk.
MASC. Sir, if you could lay your hand on plenty of pistoles, [Footnote: The pistole is a Spanish gold coin worth about four dollars; formerly the French pistole was worth in France ten _livres_--about ten francs--they were struck in Franche-Comt��.] we should have no need now to think of and try to find out what means we must employ in compassing our wishes; we might, by purchasing this slave quickly, prevent your rival from forestalling and thwarting you. Trufaldin, who takes charge of her, is rather uneasy about these gipsies, who placed her with him. If he could get back his money, which they have made him wait for too long, I am quite sure he would be delighted to sell her; for he always lived like the veriest curmudgeon; he would