The Busie Body | Page 9

Madam, begin--
_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at Paris (_Draws back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd know.--
_Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_ _And quit the Place in search of Liberty._ (Exit.
Sir _Geo._ Excellent--I hope she's Handsome--Well, Now, Madam, to the other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?--I am a Gentleman, and this Confession will not be lost upon me.--Nay, prithee don't weep, but go on--for I find my Heart melts in thy Behalf--speak quickly or I shall turn about--Not yet.--Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and to do her Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. (_Turns about._) Ha? gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented--of Paris, Balls, and Birth-Days.--Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to know who this Gipsie is.--A Curse of my Folly--I deserve to lose her; what Woman can forgive a Man that turns his Back.
_The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War, To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way; The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair, As Courage makes the rudest Force obey, Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye, Closely pursue them and they fall before ye._
The End of the First ACT.

ACT the Second.
_Enter Sir Francis Gripe, Miranda._
Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with Laughing.--The most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the odious young Fop mean? A Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, ha.
Sir _Fran._ And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it had been in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog.
_Mirand._ Indeed and Indeed, but you might Gardy.--Now methinks there's no Body Handsomer than you; So Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd, and so Loving.--
Sir _Fran._ Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find me, if thou do'st prefer thy Gardy before these Caperers of the Age, thou shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an Opera Night; thou shalt be the Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to _Hide-Park_) and thy Equipage shall Surpass, the what--d'ye call 'em Ambassadors.
_Miran._ Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me more for the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside Equipage.
Sir _Fran._ A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one too; and to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment Disinherit my Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee.
_Miran._ There's an old Rogue now: (_Aside._) No, Gardy, I would not have your Name be so Black in the World--You know my Father's Will runs, that I am not to possess my Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five and Twenty; you shall only abate the odd Seven Years, and make me Mistress of my Estate to Day, and I'll make you Master of my Person to Morrow.
Sir _Fran._ Humph? that may not be safe--No Chargy, I'll Settle it upon thee for _Pin-mony_; and that will be every bit as well, thou know'st.
_Miran._ Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own Money--Which way shall I get out of his Hands? (_Aside._
Sir _Fran._ Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter Sir _George?_
_Miran._ I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well: (_Aside._) No, Gardy, I have thought of a way will Confound him more than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years.
Sir _Fran._ How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad--
_Miran._ It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (_Aside._) I'll not Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says--
Sir _Fran._ Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have you now, Sir _George_: Dumb! he'll go Distracted--Well, she's the wittiest Rogue--Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha.
_Miran._ Nay, Gardy, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha.
Sir _Fran._ Ay, so it wou'd Chargy, to hold him in such Derision, to scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
_Enter Charles._
Sir _Fran._ How now, Sirrah, Who let you in?
_Char._ My Necessity, Sir.
Sir _Fran._ Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and ought to have sent before they Entred.
_Char._ Sir, I knew 'twas