Scene II The Walk by the Severn Side
Enter Melinda and her Maid Lucy.
Mel. And pray was it a ring, or buckle, or pendants, or knots; or in what shape was the almighty gold transformed, that has bribed you so much in his favour?
Lucy. Indeed, madam, the last bribe I had from the captain, was only a small piece of Flanders’ lace, for a cap.
Mel. Ay, Flanders’ lace is a constant present from officers to their women. They every year bring over a cargo of lace, to cheat the king of his duty, and his subjects of their honesty.
Lucy. They only barter one sort of prohibited goods for another, madam.
Mel. Has any of them been bartering with you, Mrs. Pert, that you talk so like a trader?
Lucy. One would imagine, madam, by your concern for Worthy’s absence, that you should use him better when he’s with you.
Mel. Who told you, pray, that I was concerned for his absence? I’m only vexed that I have had nothing said to me these two days: as one may love the treason and hate the traitor. Oh! here comes another captain, and a rogue that has the confidence to make love to me; but indeed, I don’t wonder at that, when he has the assurance to fancy himself a fine gentleman.
Lucy. If he should speak o’ th’ assignation I should be ruined! [Aside.
Enter Brazen.
Brazen. True to the touch, ‘faith! [Aside.] Madam, I am your humble servant, and all that, madam. A fine river, this same Severn—Do you love fishing, madam?
Mel. ’Tis a pretty melancholy amusement for lovers.
Brazen. I’ll go and buy hooks and lines presently; for you must know, madam, that I have served in Flanders against the French, in Hungary against the Turks, and in Tangier against the Moors, and I was never so much in love before; and split me, madam, in all the campaigns I ever made, I have not seen so fine a woman as your ladyship.
Mel. And from all the men I ever saw, I never had so fine a compliment: but you soldiers are the best bred men, that we must allow.
Brazen. Some of us, madam; but there are brutes among us too, very sad brutes; for my own part, I have always had the good luck to prove agreeable. I have had very considerable offers, madam—I might have married a German princess, worth fifty thousand crowns a-year, but her stove disgusted me. The daughter of a Turkish bashaw fell in love with me, too, when I was a prisoner among the Infidels; she offered to rob her father of his treasure, and make her escape with me; but I don’t know how, my time was not come: hanging and marriage, you know, go by destiny: Fate has reserved me for a Shropshire lady, worth twenty thousand pounds. Do you know any such person, madam?
Mel. Extravagant coxcomb! [Aside.] To be sure, a great many ladies of that fortune would be proud of the name of Mrs. Brazen.
Brazen. Nay, for that matter, madam, there are women of very good quality of the name of Brazen.
Enter Worthy.
Mel. Oh, are you there, gentleman?—Come, captain, we’ll walk this way. Give me your hand.
Brazen. My hand, heart’s blood, and guts, are at your service. Mr. Worthy, your servant, my dear!
[Exit, leading Melinda.
Wor. Death and fire! this is not to be borne!
Enter Plume.
Plume. No more it is, ‘faith.
Wor. What?
Plume. The March beer at the Raven. I have been doubly serving the king, raising men, and raising the excise. Recruiting and elections are rare friends to the excise.
Wor. You a’n’t drunk?
Plume. No, no, whimsical only; I could be mighty foolish, and fancy myself mighty witty. Reason still keeps its throne, but it nods a little, that’s all.
Wor. Then you’re just fit for a frolic.
Plume. Just so.
Wor. Then recover me that vessel, from that Tangerine.
Plume. She’s well rigged, but how is she manned?
Wor. By Captain Brazen, that I told you of to-day; she is called the Melinda, a first rate I can assure you; she sheered off with him just now, on purpose to affront me; but according to your advice I would take no notice, because I would seem to be above a concern for her behaviour; but have a care of a quarrel.
Plume. No, no; I never quarrel with any thing in my cups, but an oyster-wench, or a cookmaid, and if they ben’t civil, I knock them down. But hearkye, my friend, I’ll make love, and I must make love—I tell you what, I’ll make love like a platoon.
Wor. Platoon! how’s that?
Plume. I’ll kneel, stoop, and stand, ‘faith: most ladies are gained by platooning.
Wor. Here they come; I must leave you.
[Exit.
Plume. So! now must I look as sober and demure as a whore at a christening.
Enter Brazen and Melinda.
Brazen. Who’s that, madam?
Mel. A brother officer of yours, I suppose, sir.
Brazen. Ay—my dear!
[To Plume.
Plume. My dear!
[Run and embrace.
Brazen. My dear boy! how is’t? Your name, my dear! If I be not mistaken, I have seen your face.
Plume. I never saw yours in my life, my dear——but there’s a face well known as the sun’s, that shines on all, and is by all adored.
Brazen. Have you any pretensions, sir?
Plume. Pretensions!
Brazen. That is, sir, have you ever served abroad?
Plume. I have served at home, sir, for ages served this cruel fair, and that will serve the turn, sir.
Mel. So, between the fool and the rake, I shall bring a fine spot of work upon my hands!
Brazen. Will you fight for the lady, sir?
Plume. No, sir, but I’ll have her notwithstanding.
Thou peerless princess of Salopian plains,
Envy’d by nymphs, and worshipp’d by the swains—
Brazen. Oons, sir! not fight for her?
Plume. Pr’ythee be quiet—I shall be out—
Behold, how humbly does the Severn glide,
To greet thee, princess of the Severn side.
Brazen. Don’t mind him, madam—if he were not so well dressed, I should take him for a poet; but I’ll show you the difference presently. Come, madam, we’ll place you between us, and now the longest sword carries her.
[Draws.
Mel. [Shrieking.]
Enter Worthy.
Oh, Mr. Worthy! save me from these madmen!
[Exit with Worthy.
Plume. Ha! ha! ha! why don’t you follow, sir, and fight the bold ravisher?
Brazen. No, sir, you are my man.
Plume. I don’t like the wages; I won’t be your man.
Brazen. Then you’re not worth my sword.
Plume. No; pray what did it cost?
Brazen. It cost me twenty pistoles in France, and my enemies thousands of lives in Flanders.
Plume. Then they had a dear bargain.
Enter Sylvia, in Man’s Apparel.
Syl. Save ye, save ye! gentlemen.
Brazen. My dear, I’m yours.
Plume. Do you know the gentleman?
Brazen. No, but I will presently—Your name, my dear?
Syl. Wilful, Jack Wilful, at your service.
Brazen. What, the Kentish Wilfuls, or those of Staffordshire?
Syl. Both, sir, both; I’m related to all the Wilfuls in Europe, and I’m head of the family at present.
Plume. Do you live in the country, sir?
Syl. Yes, sir, I live where I stand; I have neither home, house, or habitation, beyond this spot of ground.
Brazen. What are you, sir?
Syl. A rake.
Plume. In the army, I presume.
Syl. No, but I intend to list immediately. Lookye, gentlemen, he that bids the fairest, has me.
Brazen. Sir, I’ll prefer you; I’ll make you a corporal this minute.
Plume. Corporal! I’ll make you my companion; you shall eat with me.
Brazen. You shall drink with me. Then you shall receive your pay, and do no duty.
Syl. Then you must make me a field-officer.
Plume. Pho, pho, pho! I’ll do more than all this; I’ll make you a corporal, and give you a brevet for serjeant.
Brazen. Can you read and write, sir?
Syl. Yes.
Brazen. Then your business is done—I’ll make you chaplain to the regiment.
Syl. Your promises are so equal, that I’m at a loss to chuse. There is one Plume, that I hear much commended, in town; pray, which of you is Captain Plume?
Plume. I am Captain Plume.
Brazen. No, no, I am Captain Plume.
Syl. Heyday!
Plume. Captain Plume! I’m your servant, my dear!
Brazen. Captain Brazen! I’m yours—The fellow dares not fight. [Aside.
Enter Kite.
Kite. Sir, if you please——
[Goes to whisper Plume.
Plume. No, no, there’s your captain. Captain Plume, your serjeant has got so drunk, he mistakes me for you.
Brazen. He’s an incorrigible sot. Here, my Hector of Holborn, here’s forty shillings for you.
Plume. I forbid the bans. Lookye, friend, you shall list with Captain Brazen.
Syl. I will see Captain Brazen hanged first; I will list with Captain Plume: I am a free-born Englishman, and will be a slave my own way. Lookye, sir, will you stand by me?
[To Brazen.
Brazen. I warrant you, my lad.
Syl. Then I will tell you, Captain Brazen, [To Plume.] that you are an ignorant, pretending, impudent coxcomb.
Brazen. Ay, ay, a sad dog.
Syl. A very sad dog. Give me the money, noble Captain Plume.
Plume. Then you won’t list with Captain Brazen?
Syl. I won’t.
Brazen. Never mind him, child; I’ll end the dispute presently. Harkye, my dear!
[Takes Plume to one Side of the Stage, and entertains
him in dumb Show.
Kite. Sir, he in the plain coat is Captain Plume; I am his serjeant, and will take my oath on’t.
Syl. What! you are serjeant Kite?
Kite. At your service.
Syl. Then I would not take your oath for a farthing.
Kite. A very understanding youth of his age: but I see a storm coming.
Syl. Now, serjeant, I shall see who is your captain, by your knocking down the other.
Kite. My captain scorns assistance, sir.
Brazen. How dare you contend for any thing, and not dare to draw your sword? But you are a young fellow, and have not been much abroad; I excuse that; but pr’ythee, resign the man, pr’ythee do: you are a very honest fellow.
Plume. You lie; and you are a son of a whore.
[Draws, and makes up to Brazen.
Brazen. Hold, hold; did not you refuse to fight for the lady?
[Retiring.
Plume. I always do, but for a man I’ll fight knee-deep; so you lie again.
[Plume and Brazen fight a traverse or two about the Stage, Sylvia draws, and is held by Kite, who sounds to Arms with his Mouth, takes Sylvia in his Arms, and carries her off the Stage.
Brazen. Hold! where’s the man?
Plume. Gone.
Brazen. Then what do we fight for? [Puts up.] Now let’s embrace, my dear!
Plume. With all my heart, my dear! [Putting up.] I suppose Kite has listed him by this time.
[Embraces.
Brazen. You are a brave fellow: I always fight with a man before I make him my friend; and if once I find he will fight, I never quarrel with him afterwards. And now I’ll tell you a secret, my dear friend! that lady we frightened out of the walk just now, I found in bed this morning, so beautiful, so inviting; I presently locked the door—but I’m a man of honour—but I believe I shall marry her nevertheless—her twenty thousand pounds, you know, will be a pretty conveniency. I had an assignation with her here, but your coming spoiled my sport. Curse you, my dear, but don’t do so again——
Plume. No, no, my dear! men are my business at present.
[Exeunt.