The Double-Dealer | Page 6

TOUCHWOOD, uncle to Mellefont,--Mr. Kynaston
MELLEFONT, promised to, and in love with Cynthia,--Mr. Williams
CARELESS, his friend,--Mr. Verbruggen
LORD FROTH, a solemn coxcomb,--Mr. Bowman
BRISK, a pert coxcomb,--Mr. Powell
SIR PAUL PLYANT, an uxorious, foolish old knight; brother to Lady Touchwood, and father to Cynthia,--Mr. Dogget
WOMEN.
LADY TOUCHWOOD, in love with Mellefont,--Mrs. Barry
CYNTHIA, daughter to Sir Paul by a former wife, promised to Mellefont,--Mrs. Bracegirdle
LADY FROTH, a great coquette; pretender to poetry, wit, and learning,--Mrs. Mountfort
LADY PLYANT, insolent to her husband, and easy to any pretender,-- Mrs. Leigh
CHAPLAIN, BOY, FOOTMEN, AND ATTENDANTS.
THE SCENE: A gallery in the Lord Touchwood's house, with chambers adjoining.
THE DOUBLE-DEALER--ACT I.--SCENE I.
A gallery in the Lord Touchwood's home, with chambers adjoining.
Enter CARELESS, crossing the stage, with his hat, gloves, and sword in his hands; as just risen from table: MELLEFONT following him.
MEL. Ned, Ned, whither so fast? What, turned flincher! Why, you wo' not leave us?
CARE. Where are the women? I'm weary of guzzling, and begin to think them the better company.
MEL. Then thy reason staggers, and thou'rt almost drunk.
CARE. No, faith, but your fools grow noisy; and if a man must endure the noise of words without sense, I think the women have more musical voices, and become nonsense better.
MEL. Why, they are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom, after dinner. But I made a pretence to follow you, because I had something to say to you in private, and I am not like to have many opportunities this evening.
CARE. And here's this coxcomb most critically come to interrupt you.
SCENE II.
[To them] BRISK.
BRISK. Boys, boys, lads, where are you? What, do you give ground? Mortgage for a bottle, ha? Careless, this is your trick; you're always spoiling company by leaving it.
CARE. And thou art always spoiling company by coming in o't.
BRISK. Pooh, ha, ha, ha, I know you envy me. Spite, proud spite, by the gods! and burning envy. I'll be judged by Mellefont here, who gives and takes raillery better than you or I. Pshaw, man, when I say you spoil company by leaving it, I mean you leave nobody for the company to laugh at. I think there I was with you. Ha, Mellefont?
MEL. O' my word, Brisk, that was a home thrust; you have silenced him.
BRISK. Oh, my dear Mellefont, let me perish if thou art not the soul of conversation, the very essence of wit and spirit of wine. The deuce take me if there were three good things said, or one understood, since thy amputation from the body of our society. He, I think that's pretty and metaphorical enough; i'gad I could not have said it out of thy company. Careless, ha?
CARE. Hum, ay, what is't?
BRISK. O MON COEUR! What is't! Nay, gad, I'll punish you for want of apprehension. The deuce take me if I tell you.
MEL. No, no, hang him, he has no taste. But, dear Brisk, excuse me, I have a little business.
CARE. Prithee get thee gone; thou seest we are serious.
MEL. We'll come immediately, if you'll but go in and keep up good humour and sense in the company. Prithee do, they'll fall asleep else.
BRISK. I'gad, so they will. Well, I will, I will; gad, you shall command me from the Zenith to the Nadir. But the deuce take me if I say a good thing till you come. But prithee, dear rogue, make haste, prithee make haste, I shall burst else. And yonder your uncle, my Lord Touchwood, swears he'll disinherit you, and Sir Paul Plyant threatens to disclaim you for a son-in-law, and my Lord Froth won't dance at your wedding to-morrow; nor, the deuce take me, I won't write your Epithalamium--and see what a condition you're like to be brought to.
MEL. Well, I'll speak but three words, and follow you.
BRISK. Enough, enough. Careless, bring your apprehension along with you.
SCENE III.
MELLEFONT, CARELESS.
CARE. Pert coxcomb.
MEL. Faith, 'tis a good-natured coxcomb, and has very entertaining follies. You must be more humane to him; at this juncture it will do me service. I'll tell you, I would have mirth continued this day at any rate; though patience purchase folly, and attention be paid with noise, there are times when sense may be unseasonable as well as truth. Prithee do thou wear none to-day, but allow Brisk to have wit, that thou may'st seem a fool.
CARE. Why, how now, why this extravagant proposition?
MEL. Oh, I would have no room for serious design, for I am jealous of a plot. I would have noise and impertinence keep my Lady Touchwood's head from working: for hell is not more busy than her brain, nor contains more devils than that imaginations.
CARE. I thought your fear of her had been over. Is not to-morrow appointed for your marriage with Cynthia, and her father, Sir Paul Plyant, come