The Busie Body | Page 6

a true Account how you came
by that Mourning Nose, I will.
_Marpl._ I'll do it.
_Cha._ Sir George, here's a Gentleman has a passionate Desire to kiss
your Hand.
Sir _Geo._ Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this

Gentleman is lately come from Spain or _Portugal_--by his Scars.
_Marpl._ No really, Sir George, mine sprung from civil Fury,
happening last Night into the Groom-Porters--I had a strong Inclination
to go ten Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a--kind of a Milk Sop, as I
thought: A Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets being empty
as Charles knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly
_North-Britain_, and broke my Face for my Deficiency.
Sir _Geo._ Ha! ha! and did not you draw?
_Marpl._ Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to
make a swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin
ye touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem.
Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha,
_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I suppose.
_Marp._ Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my
Friends you know--
Sir _Geo._ Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll
rank me in that Number.
_Marpl._ Sir George, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your
Chariot, binds me ever yours.
Sir _Geo._ Trifles, you may command 'em when you please.
_Cha._ Provided he may command you--
_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir George, I have the
Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll tell
'em you are the finest Gentleman--
Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my
Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message
with an Air of Business, Ha!

_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman.
Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_
_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are
Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd
Curmudgeon; that Sir Francis Gripe is a damn'd old--
_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father--
_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, Charles, but it is for your sake I hate him.
Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety, makes
him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every
Heir's Jaylor. Egad, Charles, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some Ward
too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee as
ever Cuckolded Man of Quality.
Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow.
_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring
his Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute,
but some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner
spoils an Intreague than helps it--
_Marpl._ If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions.
_Cha._ Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife.
_Marpl._ Pish, Pox, that was an Accident.
Sir _Geo._ What was it, prithee?
_Ch._ Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting
Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him
along with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter
to the Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband
the Letter, and offers her the Horses.
_Marpl._ I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter

to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid
for.
_Cha._ Come, Sir George, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for I
have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him
to bring me the Answer into the Park.
_Marpl._ Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him.
Sir _Geo._ I must beg your Pardon, Charles, I am to meet your Father
here.
_Ch._ My Father!
Sir _Geo._ Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard
off; but I'll not impart till I know the Success.
_Marpl._ What can his Business be with Sir _Francis?_ Now wou'd I
give all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know
every Man's Concern. (Aside.
_Cha._ Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over a
Bottle we'll compare Notes.
_Marpl._ Charles knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make
one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets. (_Aside._
_Enter Whisper._
_Whis._ Sir, Sir, Mis Patch says, _Isabinda_'s Spanish Father has quite
spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you