The Old Bachelor | Page 9

heart 'twould be to me to have my son and heir
resemble such a duke; to have a fleering coxcomb scoff and cry, 'Mr.
your son's mighty like his Grace, has just his smile and air of's face.'
Then replies another, 'Methinks he has more of the Marquess of such a

place about his nose and eyes, though he has my Lord what-d'ye-call's
mouth to a tittle.' Then I, to put it off as unconcerned, come chuck the
infant under the chin, force a smile, and cry, 'Ay, the boy takes after his
mother's relations,' when the devil and she knows 'tis a little compound
of the whole body of nobility.
BELL+SHARP. Ha, ha, ha!
BELL. Well, but, George, I have one question to ask you -
HEART. Pshaw, I have prattled away my time. I hope you are in no
haste for an answer, for I shan't stay now. [Looking on his watch.]
BELL. Nay, prithee, George -
HEART. No; besides my business, I see a fool coming this way. Adieu.
SCENE V.
SHARPER, BELLMOUR.
BELL. What does he mean? Oh, 'tis Sir Joseph Wittoll with his friend;
but I see he has turned the corner and goes another way.
SHARP. What in the name of wonder is it?
BELL. Why, a fool.
SHARP. 'Tis a tawdry outside.
BELL. And a very beggarly lining--yet he may be worth your
acquaintance; a little of thy chymistry, Tom, may extract gold from that
dirt.
SHARP. Say you so? 'Faith I am as poor as a chymist, and would be as
industrious. But what was he that followed him? Is not he a dragon that
watches those golden pippins?
BELL. Hang him, no, he a dragon! If he be, 'tis a very peaceful one. I

can ensure his anger dormant; or should he seem to rouse, 'tis but well
lashing him, and he will sleep like a top.
SHARP. Ay, is he of that kidney?
BELL. Yet is adored by that bigot, Sir Joseph Wittoll, as the image of
valour. He calls him his back, and indeed they are never asunder--yet,
last night, I know not by what mischance, the knight was alone, and
had fallen into the hands of some night-walkers, who, I suppose, would
have pillaged him. But I chanced to come by and rescued him, though I
believe he was heartily frightened; for as soon as ever he was loose, he
ran away without staying to see who had helped him.
SHARP. Is that bully of his in the army?
BELL. No; but is a pretender, and wears the habit of a soldier, which
nowadays as often cloaks cowardice, as a black gown does atheism.
You must know he has been abroad--went purely to run away from a
campaign; enriched himself with the plunder of a few oaths, and here
vents them against the general, who, slighting men of merit, and
preferring only those of interest, has made him quit the service.
SHARP. Wherein no doubt he magnifies his own performance.
BELL. Speaks miracles, is the drum to his own praise--the only
implement of a soldier he resembles, like that, being full of blustering
noise and emptiness -
SHARP. And like that, of no use but to be beaten.
BELL. Right; but then the comparison breaks, for he will take a
drubbing with as little noise as a pulpit cushion.
SHARP. His name, and I have done?
BELL. Why, that, to pass it current too, he has gilded with a title: he is
called Capt. Bluffe.
SHARP. Well, I'll endeavour his acquaintance--you steer another

course, are bound -
For love's island: I, for the golden coast.
May each succeed in what
he wishes most.
ACT II.--SCENE I.
SIR JOSEPH WITTOLL, SHARPER following.
SHARP. Sure that's he, and alone.
SIR JO. Um--Ay, this, this is the very damned place; the inhuman
cannibals, the bloody-minded villains, would have butchered me last
night. No doubt they would have flayed me alive, have sold my skin,
and devoured, etc.
SHARP. How's this!
SIR JO. An it hadn't been for a civil gentleman as came by and frighted
'em away--but, agad, I durst not stay to give him thanks.
SHARP. This must be Bellmour he means. Ha! I have a thought -
SIR JO. Zooks, would the captain would come; the very remembrance
makes me quake; agad, I shall never be reconciled to this place heartily.
SHARP. 'Tis but trying, and being where I am at worst, now luck!--
cursed fortune! this must be the place, this damned unlucky place -
SIR JO. Agad, and so 'tis. Why, here has been more mischief done, I
perceive.
SHARP. No, 'tis gone, 'tis lost--ten thousand devils on that chance
which drew me hither; ay, here, just here, this spot to me is hell;
nothing to be found, but the despair