VAL. Therefore I would rail in my writings, and be revenged.
SCAN. Rail? At whom? The whole world? Impotent and vain! Who would die a martyr to sense in a country where the religion is folly? You may stand at bay for a while; but when the full cry is against you, you shan’t have fair play for your life. If you can’t be fairly run down by the hounds, you will be treacherously shot by the huntsmen. No, turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but poet. A modern poet is worse, more servile, timorous, and fawning, than any I have named: without you could retrieve the ancient honours of the name, recall the stage of Athens, and be allowed the force of open honest satire.
VAL. You are as inveterate against our poets as if your character had been lately exposed upon the stage. Nay, I am not violently bent upon the trade. [One knocks.] Jeremy, see who’s there. [Jer. goes to the door.] But tell me what you would have me do? What do the world say of me, and my forced confinement?
SCAN. The world behaves itself as it uses to do on such occasions; some pity you, and condemn your father; others excuse him, and blame you; only the ladies are merciful, and wish you well, since love and pleasurable expense have been your greatest faults.
VAL. How now?
JERE. Nothing new, sir; I have despatched some half a dozen duns with as much dexterity as a hungry judge does causes at dinner-time.
VAL. What answer have you given ’em?
SCAN. Patience, I suppose, the old receipt.
JERE. No, faith, sir; I have put ’em off so long with patience and forbearance, and other fair words, that I was forced now to tell ’em in plain downright English —
VAL. What?
JERE. That they should be paid.
VAL. When?
JERE. To-morrow.
VAL. And how the devil do you mean to keep your word?
JERE. Keep it? Not at all; it has been so very much stretched that I reckon it will break of course by to-morrow, and nobody be surprised at the matter. [Knocking.] Again! Sir, if you don’t like my negotiation, will you be pleased to answer these yourself?
VAL. See who they are.
SCENE III.
Valentine, Scandal.
VAL. By this, Scandal, you may see what it is to be great; secretaries of state, presidents of the council, and generals of an army lead just such a life as I do; have just such crowds of visitants in a morning, all soliciting of past promises; which are but a civiller sort of duns, that lay claim to voluntary debts.
SCAN. And you, like a true great man, having engaged their attendance, and promised more than ever you intended to perform, are more perplexed to find evasions than you would be to invent the honest means of keeping your word, and gratifying your creditors.
VAL. Scandal, learn to spare your friends, and do not provoke your enemies; this liberty of your tongue will one day bring a confinement on your body, my friend.
SCENE IV.
Valentine, Scandal, Jeremy.
JERE. O sir, there’s Trapland the scrivener, with two suspicious fellows like lawful pads, that would knock a man down with pocket-tipstaves. And there’s your father’s steward, and the nurse with one of your children from Twitnam.
VAL. Pox on her, could she find no other time to fling my sins in my face? Here, give her this, [gives money] and bid her trouble me no more; a thoughtless two-handed whore, she knows my condition well enough, and might have overlaid the child a fortnight ago, if she had had any forecast in her.
SCAN. What, is it bouncing Margery, with my godson?
JERE. Yes, sir.
SCAN. My blessing to the boy, with this token [gives money] of my love. And d’ye hear, bid Margery put more flocks in her bed, shift twice a week, and not work so hard, that she may not smell so vigorously. I shall take the air shortly.
VAL. Scandal, don’t spoil my boy’s milk. Bid Trapland come in. If I can give that Cerberus a sop, I shall be at rest for one day.
SCENE V.
Valentine, Scandal, Trapland, Jeremy.
VAL. Oh, Mr. Trapland! My old friend! Welcome. Jeremy, a chair quickly: a bottle of sack and a toast — fly — a chair first.
TRAP. A good morning to you, Mr. Valentine, and to you, Mr. Scandal.
SCAN. The morning’s a very good morning, if you don’t spoil it.
VAL. Come, sit you down, you know his way.
TRAP. [sits.] There is a debt, Mr. Valentine, of £1500 of pretty long standing —
VAL. I cannot talk about business with a thirsty palate. Sirrah, the sack.
TRAP. And I desire to know what course you have taken for the payment?
VAL. Faith and troth, I am heartily glad to see you. My service to you. Fill, fill to honest Mr. Trapland — fuller.
TRAP. Hold, sweetheart: this is not to our business. My service to you, Mr. Scandal. [Drinks.] I have forborne as long —
VAL. T’other glass, and then we’ll talk. Fill, Jeremy.
TRAP. No more, in truth. I have forborne, I say —
VAL. Sirrah, fill when I bid you. And how does your handsome daughter? Come, a good husband to her. [Drinks.]
TRAP. Thank you. I have been out of this money —
VAL. Drink first. Scandal, why do you not drink? [They drink.]
TRAP. And, in short, I can be put off no longer.
VAL. I was much obliged to you for your supply. It did me signal service in my necessity. But you delight in doing good. Scandal, drink to me, my friend Trapland’s health. An honester man lives not, nor one more ready to serve his friend in distress: though I say it to his face. Come, fill each man his glass.
SCAN. What, I know Trapland has been a whoremaster, and loves a wench still. You never knew a whoremaster that was not an honest fellow.
TRAP. Fie, Mr. Scandal, you never knew —
SCAN. What don’t I know? I know the buxom black widow in the Poultry. £800 a year jointure, and £20,000 in money. Aha! old Trap.
VAL. Say you so, i’faith? Come, we’ll remember the widow. I know whereabouts you are; come, to the widow —
TRAP. No more, indeed.
VAL. What, the widow’s health; give it him — off with it. [They drink.] A lovely girl, i’faith, black sparkling eyes, soft pouting ruby lips! Better sealing there than a bond for a million, ha?
TRAP. No, no, there’s no such thing; we’d better mind our business. You’re a wag.
VAL. No, faith, we’ll mind the widow’s business: fill again. Pretty round heaving breasts, a Barbary shape, and a jut with her bum would stir an anchoret: and the prettiest foot! Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats, ah! Mr. Trapland?
TRAP. Verily, give me a glass. You’re a wag, — and here’s to the widow. [Drinks.]
SCAN. He begins to chuckle; ply him close, or he’ll relapse into a dun.
SCENE VI.
[To them] Officer.
OFF. By your leave, gentlemen: Mr. Trapland, if we must do our office, tell us. We have half a dozen gentlemen to arrest in Pall Mall and Covent Garden; and if we don’t make haste the chairmen will be abroad, and block up the chocolate-houses, and then our labour’s lost.
TRAP. Udso that’s true: Mr. Valentine, I love mirth, but business must be done. Are you ready to —
JERE. Sir, your father’s steward says he comes to make proposals concerning your debts.
VAL. Bid him come in: Mr. Trapland, send away your officer; you shall have an answer presently.
TRAP. Mr. Snap, stay within call.
SCENE VII.
Valentine, Scandal, Trapland, Jeremy,
Steward who whispers Valentine.
SCAN. Here’s a dog now, a traitor in his wine: sirrah, refund the sack. — Jeremy, fetch him some warm water, or I’ll rip up his stomach, and go the shortest way to his conscience.
TRAP. Mr. Scandal, you are uncivil; I did not value your sack; but you cannot expect it again when I have drunk it.
SCAN. A
nd how do you expect to have your money again when a gentleman has spent it?
VAL. You need say no more, I understand the conditions; they are very hard, but my necessity is very pressing: I agree to ’em. Take Mr. Trapland with you, and let him draw the writing. Mr. Trapland, you know this man: he shall satisfy you.
TRAP. Sincerely, I am loth to be thus pressing, but my necessity —
VAL. No apology, good Mr. Scrivener, you shall be paid.
TRAP. I hope you forgive me; my business requires —
SCENE VIII.
Valentine, Scandal.
SCAN. He begs pardon like a hangman at an execution.
VAL. But I have got a reprieve.
SCAN. I am surprised; what, does your father relent?
VAL. No; he has sent me the hardest conditions in the world. You have heard of a booby brother of mine that was sent to sea three years ago? This brother, my father hears, is landed; whereupon he very affectionately sends me word; if I will make a deed of conveyance of my right to his estate, after his death, to my younger brother, he will immediately furnish me with four thousand pounds to pay my debts and make my fortune. This was once proposed before, and I refused it; but the present impatience of my creditors for their money, and my own impatience of confinement, and absence from Angelica, force me to consent.
SCAN. A very desperate demonstration of your love to Angelica; and I think she has never given you any assurance of hers.
VAL. You know her temper; she never gave me any great reason either for hope or despair.
SCAN. Women of her airy temper, as they seldom think before they act, so they rarely give us any light to guess at what they mean. But you have little reason to believe that a woman of this age, who has had an indifference for you in your prosperity, will fall in love with your ill-fortune; besides, Angelica has a great fortune of her own; and great fortunes either expect another great fortune, or a fool.
SCENE IX.
[To them] Jeremy.
JERE. More misfortunes, sir.
VAL. What, another dun?
JERE. No, sir, but Mr. Tattle is come to wait upon you.
VAL. Well, I can’t help it, you must bring him up; he knows I don’t go abroad.
SCENE X.
Valentine, Scandal.
SCAN. Pox on him, I’ll be gone.
VAL. No, prithee stay: Tattle and you should never be asunder; you are light and shadow, and show one another; he is perfectly thy reverse both in humour and understanding; and as you set up for defamation, he is a mender of reputations.
SCAN. A mender of reputations! Ay, just as he is a keeper of secrets, another virtue that he sets up for in the same manner. For the rogue will speak aloud in the posture of a whisper, and deny a woman’s name while he gives you the marks of her person. He will forswear receiving a letter from her, and at the same time show you her hand in the superscription: and yet perhaps he has counterfeited the hand too, and sworn to a truth; but he hopes not to be believed, and refuses the reputation of a lady’s favour, as a Doctor says no to a Bishopric only that it may be granted him. In short, he is public professor of secrecy, and makes proclamation that he holds private intelligence. — He’s here.
SCENE XI.
[To them] Tattle.
TATT. Valentine, good morrow; Scandal, I am yours: — that is, when you speak well of me.
SCAN. That is, when I am yours; for while I am my own, or anybody’s else, that will never happen.
TATT. How inhuman!
VAL. Why Tattle, you need not be much concerned at anything that he says: for to converse with Scandal, is to play at losing loadum; you must lose a good name to him before you can win it for yourself.
TATT. But how barbarous that is, and how unfortunate for him, that the world shall think the better of any person for his calumniation! I thank heaven, it has always been a part of my character to handle the reputations of others very tenderly indeed.
SCAN. Ay, such rotten reputations as you have to deal with are to be handled tenderly indeed.
TATT. Nay, but why rotten? Why should you say rotten, when you know not the persons of whom you speak? How cruel that is!
SCAN. Not know ’em? Why, thou never had’st to do with anybody that did not stink to all the town.
TATT. Ha, ha, ha; nay, now you make a jest of it indeed. For there is nothing more known than that nobody knows anything of that nature of me. As I hope to be saved, Valentine, I never exposed a woman, since I knew what woman was.
VAL. And yet you have conversed with several.
TATT. To be free with you, I have. I don’t care if I own that. Nay more (I’m going to say a bold word now) I never could meddle with a woman that had to do with anybody else.
SCAN. How?
VAL. Nay faith, I’m apt to believe him. Except her husband, Tattle.
TATT. Oh, that —
SCAN. What think you of that noble commoner, Mrs. Drab?
TATT. Pooh, I know Madam Drab has made her brags in three or four places, that I said this and that, and writ to her, and did I know not what — but, upon my reputation, she did me wrong — well, well, that was malice — but I know the bottom of it. She was bribed to that by one we all know — a man too. Only to bring me into disgrace with a certain woman of quality —
SCAN. Whom we all know.
TATT. No matter for that. Yes, yes, everybody knows. No doubt on’t, everybody knows my secrets. But I soon satisfied the lady of my innocence; for I told her: Madam, says I, there are some persons who make it their business to tell stories, and say this and that of one and t’other, and everything in the world; and, says I, if your grace —
SCAN. Grace!
TATT. O Lord, what have I said? My unlucky tongue!
VAL. Ha, ha, ha.
SCAN. Why, Tattle, thou hast more impudence than one can in reason expect: I shall have an esteem for thee, well, and, ha, ha, ha, well, go on, and what did you say to her grace?
VAL. I confess this is something extraordinary.
TATT. Not a word, as I hope to be saved; an errant lapsus linguæ. Come, let’s talk of something else.
VAL. Well, but how did you acquit yourself?
TATT. Pooh, pooh, nothing at all; I only rallied with you — a woman of ordinary rank was a little jealous of me, and I told her something or other, faith I know not what. — Come, let’s talk of something else. [Hums a song.]
SCAN. Hang him, let him alone, he has a mind we should enquire.
TATT. Valentine, I supped last night with your mistress, and her uncle, old Foresight: I think your father lies at Foresight’s.
VAL. Yes.
TATT. Upon my soul, Angelica’s a fine woman. And so is Mrs. Foresight, and her sister, Mrs. Frail.
SCAN. Yes, Mrs. Frail is a very fine woman, we all know her.
TATT. Oh, that is not fair.
SCAN. What?
TATT. To tell.
SCAN. To tell what? Why, what do you know of Mrs. Frail?
TATT. Who, I? Upon honour I don’t know whether she be man or woman, but by the smoothness of her chin and roundness of her hips.
SCAN. No?
TATT. No.
SCAN. She says otherwise.
TATT. Impossible!
SCAN. Yes, faith. Ask Valentine else.
TATT. Why then, as I hope to be saved, I believe a woman only obliges a man to secrecy that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
SCAN. No doubt on’t. Well, but has she done you wrong, or no? You have had her? Ha?
TATT. Though I have more honour than to tell first, I have more manners than to contradict what a lady has declared.
SCAN. Well, you own it?
TATT. I am strangely surprised! Yes, yes, I can’t deny’t if she taxes me with it.
SCAN. She’ll be here by and by, she sees Valentine every morning.
TATT. How?
VAL. She does me the favour, I mean, of a visit sometimes. I did not think she had granted more to anybody.
Complete Works of William Congreve Page 42
