Chapter Chapter 3 · 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 to settle the writings this day on purpose?

MEL. True; but you shall judge whether I have not reason to be alarmed.

None besides you and Maskwell are acquainted with the secret of my Aunt

Touchwood's violent passion for me. Since my first refusal of her

addresses she has endeavoured to do me all ill offices with my uncle, yet

has managed 'em with that subtilty, that to him they have borne the face

of kindness; while her malice, like a dark lanthorn, only shone upon me

where it was directed. Still, it gave me less perplexity to prevent the

success of her displeasure than to avoid the importunities of her love,

and of two evils I thought myself favoured in her aversion. But whether

urged by her despair and the short prospect of time she saw to accomplish

her designs; whether the hopes of revenge, or of her love, terminated in

the view of this my marriage with Cynthia, I know not, but this morning

she surprised me in my bed.

CARE. Was there ever such a fury! 'Tis well nature has not put it into

her sex's power to ravish. Well, bless us, proceed. What followed?

MEL. What at first amazed me--for I looked to have seen her in all the

transports of a slighted and revengeful woman--but when I expected

thunder from her voice, and lightning in her eyes, I saw her melted into

tears and hushed into a sigh. It was long before either of us spoke:

passion had tied her tongue, and amazement mine. In short, the

consequence was thus, she omitted nothing that the most violent love

could urge, or tender words express; which when she saw had no effect,

but still I pleaded honour and nearness of blood to my uncle, then came

the storm I feared at first, for, starting from my bed-side like a fury,

she flew to my sword, and with much ado I prevented her doing me or

herself a mischief. Having disarmed her, in a gust of passion she left

me, and in a resolution, confirmed by a thousand curses, not to close her

eyes till they had seen my ruin.

CARE. Exquisite woman! But what the devil, does she think thou hast no

more sense than to get an heir upon her body to disinherit thyself? for

as I take it this settlement upon you is, with a proviso, that your uncle

have no children.

MEL. It is so. Well, the service you are to do me will be a pleasure to

yourself: I must get you to engage my Lady Plyant all this evening, that

my pious aunt may not work her to her interest. And if you chance to

secure her to yourself, you may incline her to mine. She's handsome, and

knows it; is very silly, and thinks she has sense, and has an old fond

husband.

CARE. I confess, a very fair foundation for a lover to build upon.

MEL. For my Lord Froth, he and his wife will be sufficiently taken up

with admiring one another and Brisk's gallantry, as they call it. I'll

observe my uncle myself, and Jack Maskwell has promised me to watch my

aunt narrowly, and give me notice upon any suspicion. As for Sir Paul,

my wise father-in-law that is to be, my dear Cynthia has such a share in

his fatherly fondness, he would scarce make her a moment uneasy to have

her happy hereafter.

CARE. So you have manned your works; but I wish you may not have the

weakest guard where the enemy is strongest.

MEL. Maskwell, you mean; prithee why should you suspect him?

CARE. Faith I cannot help it; you know I never liked him: I am a little

superstitious in physiognomy.

MEL. He has obligations of gratitude to bind him to me: his dependence

upon my uncle is through my means.

CARE. Upon your aunt, you mean.

MEL. My aunt!

CARE. I'm mistaken if there be not a familiarity between them you do not

suspect, notwithstanding her passion for you.

MEL. Pooh, pooh! nothing in the world but his design to do me service;

and he endeavours to be well in her esteem, that he may be able to effect

it.

CARE. Well, I shall be glad to be mistaken; but your aunt's aversion in

her revenge cannot be any way so effectually shown as in bringing forth a

child to disinherit you. She is handsome and cunning and naturally

wanton. Maskwell is flesh and blood at best, and opportunities between

them are frequent. His affection to you, you have confessed, is grounded

upon his interest, that you have transplanted; and should it take root in

my lady, I don't see what you can expect from the fruit.

MEL. I confess the consequence is visible, were your suspicions just.

But see, the company is broke up, let's meet 'em.

SCENE 4.