couple 'em together.--Hark'ee--[Whisper.]
MRS FORE. He won't know you, cousin; he knows nobody.
FORE. But he knows more than anybody. O niece, he knows things
past and to come, and all the
profound secrets of time.
TATT. Look you, Mr Foresight, it is not my way to make many words
of matters, and so I shan't say much,--but in short, d'ye see, I
will hold you a hundred pounds now, that I know more secrets than
he.
FORE. How! I cannot read that knowledge in your face, Mr Tattle.
Pray, what do you know?
TATT. Why, d'ye think I'll tell you, sir? Read it in my face? No,
sir, 'tis written in my heart; and safer there, sir, than letters
writ in juice of lemon, for no fire can fetch it out. I am no blab,
sir.
VAL. Acquaint Jeremy with it, he may easily bring it about. They
are
welcome, and I'll tell 'em so myself. [To SCANDAL.] What, do
you look strange upon me? Then I must be plain. [Coming up to
them.] I am Truth, and hate an old
acquaintance with a new face.
[SCANDAL goes aside with JEREMY.]
TATT. Do you know me, Valentine?
VAL. You? Who are you? No, I hope not.
TATT. I am Jack Tattle, your friend.
VAL. My friend, what to do? I am no married man, and thou canst
not lie with my wife. I am very poor, and thou canst not borrow
money of me. Then what
employment have I for a friend?
TATT. Ha! a good open
speaker, and not to be trusted with a secret.
ANG. Do you know me, Valentine?
VAL. Oh, very well.
ANG. Who am I?
VAL. You're a woman. One to whom heav'n gave beauty, when it
grafted roses on a briar. You are the
reflection of heav'n in a
pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. You are all white, a sheet
of lovely, spotless paper, when you first are born; but you are to
be scrawled and blotted by every goose's quill. I know you; for I
loved a woman, and loved her so long, that I found out a strange
thing: I found out what a woman was good for.
TATT. Ay, prithee, what's that?
VAL. Why, to keep a secret.
TATT. O Lord!
VAL. Oh,
exceeding good to keep a secret; for though she should
tell, yet she is not to be believed.
TATT. Hah! good again, faith.
VAL. I would have music. Sing me the song that I like.
SONG
Set by MR FINGER.
I tell thee, Charmion, could I time retrieve,
And could again begin to love and live,
To you I should my earliest off'ring give;
I know my eyes would lead my heart to you,
And I should all my vows and oaths renew,
But to be plain, I never would be true.
II.
For by our weak and weary truth, I find,
Love hates to centre in a point assign'd?
But runs with joy the
circle of the mind.
Then never let us chain what should be free,
But for
relief of either sex agree,
Since women love to change, and so do we.
No more, for I am
melancholy. [Walks musing.]
JERE. I'll do't, sir. [To SCANDAL.]
SCAN. Mr Foresight, we had best leave him. He may grow outrageous,
and do mischief.
FORE. I will be directed by you.
JERE. [To MRS FRAIL.] You'll meet, madam? I'll take care
everything shall be ready.
MRS FRAIL. Thou shalt do what thou wilt; in short, I will deny thee
nothing.
TATT. Madam, shall I wait upon you? [To ANGELICA.]
ANG. No, I'll stay with him; Mr Scandal will protect me. Aunt, Mr
Tattle desires you would give him leave to wait on you.
TATT. Pox on't, there's no coming off, now she has said that.
Madam, will you do me the honour?
MRS FORE. Mr Tattle might have used less ceremony.
SCENE XVII.
ANGELICA, VALENTINE, SCANDAL.
SCAN. Jeremy, follow Tattle.
ANG. Mr Scandal, I only stay till my maid comes, and because I had
a mind to be rid of Mr Tattle.
SCAN. Madam, I am very glad that I overheard a better reason which
you gave to Mr Tattle; for his impertinence forced you to
acknowledge a kindness for Valentine, which you denied to all his
sufferings and my solicitations. So I'll leave him to make use of
the discovery, and your ladyship to the free
confession" target="_blank" title="n.招供;认错;交待">
confession of your
inclinations.
ANG. O heav'ns! You won't leave me alone with a
madman?
SCAN. No, madam; I only leave a
madman to his remedy.
SCENE XVIII.
ANGELICA, VALENTINE.
VAL. Madam, you need not be very much afraid, for I fancy I begin
to come to myself.
ANG. Ay, but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. [Aside.]
VAL. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been
in
counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the
divine part of
me, my mind, has worn this mask of
madness and this motley livery,
only as the slave of love and menial creature of your beauty.
ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor Valentine!
VAL. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy
apart. The
comedy draws toward an end, and let us think of leaving
acting and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own I
have at length deserved you should
confess it.
ANG. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you--for heav'n knows I pity
you, and could I have
foreseen the bad effects, I would have
striven; but that's too late. [Sighs.]
VAL. What sad effects?--what's too late? My
seemingmadness has
deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to
reconcile me to him, and
preserve the right of my
inheritance to his
estate; which
otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have
resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone
before I knew you had been here.
ANG. How! I thought your love of me had caused this
transport in
your soul; which, it seems, you only
counterfeited, for
mercenaryends and
sordid interest.
VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered
it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me
worthy of you.
ANG. Then you thought me
mercenary. But how am I deluded by this
interval of sense to reason with a
madman?
VAL. Oh, 'tis
barbarous to
misunderstand me longer.
SCENE XIX.
[To them] JEREMY.
ANG. Oh, here's a
reasonable creature--sure he will not have the
impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy,
acknowledge your trick, and
confess your master's
madnesscounterfeit.
JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll
maintain him to be as absolutely
and
substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as
mad as any projector,
fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.
VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.
JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any
madman mad enough to own
it?
VAL. Sot, can't you apprehend?
ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.
JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he begins to look
wild again now.
VAL. Why, you thick-skulled
rascal, I tell you the farce is done,
and I will be mad no longer. [Beats him.]
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?
JERE. Partly, I think,--for he does not know his own mind two
hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the
humour to be mad, and I
think I have not found him very quiet at this present. Who's there?
[One knocks.]
VAL. Go see, you sot.--I'm very glad that I can move your mirth
though not your compassion.
ANG. I did not think you had
apprehension enough to be exceptions.
But madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound
understanding, as
drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was
half inclining to believe you, till I accidently touched upon your
tender part: but now you have restored me to my former opinion and
compassion.
JERE. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet.
Will you please to be mad, sir, or how?
VAL. Stupidity! You know the
penalty of all I'm worth must pay for
the
confession" target="_blank" title="n.招供;认错;交待">
confession of my senses; I'm mad, and will be mad to everybody
but this lady.
JERE. So--just the very backside of truth,--but lying is a figure
in speech that interlards the greatest part of my conversation.
Madam, your ladyship's woman.
SCENE XX.
VALENTINE, ANGELICA, JENNY.
ANG. Well, have you been there?--Come hither.
JENNY. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently.
[Aside to ANGELICA.]
VAL. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty?
ANG. Would anything but a
madmancomplain of uncertainty?
Uncertainty and
expectation are the joys of life. Security is an
insipid thing, and the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers
the folly of the chase. Never let us know one another better, for
the pleasure of a
masquerade is done when we come to show our faces;
but I'll tell you two things before I leave you: I am not the fool
you take me for; and you are mad and don't know it.
SCENE XXI.
VALENTINE, JEREMY.
VAL. From a
riddle you can expect nothing but a
riddle. There's my
instruction and the moral of my lesson.
JERE. What, is the lady gone again, sir? I hope you understood one
another before she went?
VAL. Understood! She is harder to be understood than a piece of
Egyptian
antiquity or an Irish
manuscript: you may pore till you
spoil your eyes and not improve your knowledge.
JERE. I have heard 'em say, sir, they read hard Hebrew books
backwards; maybe you begin to read at the wrong end.
VAL. They say so of a witch's prayer, and dreams and Dutch almanacs
are to be understood by contraries. But there's regularity and
method in that; she is a medal without a
reverse or
inscription, for
indifference has both sides alike. Yet, while she does not seem to
hate me, I will
pursue her, and know her if it be possible, in spite
of the opinion of my satirical friend, Scandal, who says -
That women are like tricks by sleight of hand,
Which, to admire, we should not understand.
ACT V.--SCENE I.
A room in Foresight's house.
ANGELICA and JENNY.
ANG. Where is Sir Sampson? Did you not tell me he would be here
before me?
JENNY. He's at the great glass in the dining-room, madam, setting
his
cravat and wig.
ANG. How! I'm glad on't. If he has a mind I should like him, it's
a sign he likes me; and that's more than half my design.
JENNY. I hear him, madam.
ANG. Leave me; and, d'ye hear, if Valentine should come, or send, I
am not to be
spoken with.