Erasmus
Where's the Blood of the Slain?
_Pa. _ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon
me.
_Ma. _ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish
I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are.
_Pa. _ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor
me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For
now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death.
_Ma. _ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the
Sight of thee?
_Pa. _ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost.
_Ma. _ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe
Cherry, or purple Grape.
_Pa. _ You coquet it with my Misery.
_Ma. _ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass.
_Pa. _ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a
better in the World than I am a looking in already.
_Ma. _ What Looking-Glass do you mean?
_Pa. _ Your Eyes.
_Ma. _ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be
dead? Do dead Folks eat?
_Pa. _ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do.
_Ma. _ What do they feed upon?
_Pa. _ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines.
_Ma. _ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges.
_Pa. _ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or
Vinegar.
_Ma. _ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that.
And do dead Folks talk too?
_Pa. _ Just as I do, with a weak Voice.
_Ma. _ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your
Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths,
and sleep?
_Pa. _ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner.
_Ma. _ Thou art a merry Fellow.
_Pa. _ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that
I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too.
_Ma. _ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however.
_Pa. _ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is
only a Separation of Soul and Body.
_Ma. _ I grant it.
_Pa. _ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words.
_Ma. _ No, I will not.
_Pa. _ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away
another's Life, is a Murtherer.
_Ma. _ I grant that too.
_Pa. _ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the
greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it
animates, but where it loves.
_Ma. _ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then.
_Pa. _ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it.
_Ma. _ I am a Maid, not a Stone.
_Pa. _ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone.
_Ma. _ Go on with your Inferences.
_Pa. _ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell,
nor feel, if you kill them outright.
_Ma. _ Indeed I have heard so.
_Pa. _ What do you think is the Reason?
_Ma. _ Do you, Philosopher, tell that.
_Pa. _ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly
loves; and therefore is absent from the Body.
_Ma. _ Well, what then?
_Pa. _ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead,
and you have killed me.
_Ma. _ Where is your Soul then?
_Pa. _ Where it loves.
_Ma. _ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me
freely: There's no Hurt in it.
_Pa. _ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me
outright.
_Ma. _ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from
her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb.
_Pa. _ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that
Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine
has into hers.
_Ma. _ But may I play the Sophister with you now?
_Pa. _ The Sophistress.
_Ma. _ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead?
_Pa. _ Not at the same Time.
_Ma. _ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it?
_Pa. _ No, it does not.
_Ma. _ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves,
it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it
loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates?
_Pa. _ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there.
That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but
improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul;
just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone.
_Ma. _ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me
this Question, does not the Person that kills, act?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ And does not he suffer who is kill'd?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and
she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill,
when he that loves, rather kills himself?
_Pa. _ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is
lov'd, that acts.
_Ma. _ You will never prove that by all your Grammar.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then.
_Ma. _ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love
voluntarily, or against your Will?
_Pa. _ Voluntarily.
_Ma. _ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he
that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid
wrongfully.
_Pa. _ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He
is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save.
_Ma. _ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose
with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to
save the Lover?
_Pa. _ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to
love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be
a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too.
_Ma. _ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me?
_Pa. _ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog
or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead.
_Ma. _ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men?
_Pa. _ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes.
_Ma. _ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then.
_Pa. _ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me.
_Ma. _ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw
others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe
the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine.
_Pa. _ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must
insult him too.
_Ma. _ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral?
_Pa. _ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me.
_Ma. _ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure?
_Pa. _ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease
imaginable.
_Ma. _ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir.
_Pa. _ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's
easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the
World get clear of the Crime of Murther.
_Ma. _ In what Court must I be try'd?
In the Court of Chancery?
_Pa. _ No, in the Court of _Venus_.
_Ma. _ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess.
_Pa. _ Nay, the most severe in the World.
_Ma. _ Has she any Thunderbolts?
_Pa. _ No.
_Ma. _ Has she got a Trident?
_Pa. _ No.
_Ma. _ Has she got a Spear?
_Pa. _ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea.
_Ma. _ But I don't go to Sea.
_Pa. _ But she has a Son.
_Ma. _ Youth is not very formidable.
_Pa. _ But he is very revengeful and resolute.
_Ma. _ What will he do to me?
_Pa. _ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish
so well to. God forbid I should.
_Ma. _ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am
no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by
his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall
deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you
again.
_Ma. _ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a
thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one
that won't love me neither.
_Pa. _ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain
Maid.
_Ma. _ Where did she live?
_Pa. _ At _Orleans_.
_Ma. _ How many Years ago was it?
_Pa. _ How many Years! not ten Months.
_Ma. _ What was her Name? What do you stick at?
_Pa. _ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you.
_Ma. _ Why don't you tell me her Name then?
_Pa. _ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some
other Name. She was your own Namesake.
_Ma. _ Who was her Father?
_Pa. _ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a
rich Man.
_Ma. _ Tell me his Name.
_Pa. Mauritius. _
_Ma. _ His Sirname.
_Pa. Aglaius. _
_Ma. _ Is her Mother alive?
_Pa. _ No, she died lately.
_Ma. _ What did she die of, say you?
_Pa. _ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life
too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution.
_Ma. _ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name.
_Pa. _ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by
that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?
_Ma. _ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for
that. But tell me what became of the Maid?
_Pa. _ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a
good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a
Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her.
_Ma. _ What was his Name?
_Pa. _ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_
as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good
Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with
Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape
than a Man.
_Ma. _ How!
_Pa. _ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it.
_Ma. _ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow?
_Pa. _ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd,
snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded,
hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow.
_Ma. _ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_.
_Pa. _ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither.
_Ma. _ It may be he had lost the other in the War.
_Pa. _ No, he lost it in Peace.
_Ma. _ Who dar'd to cut it off?
_Pa. Jack Ketch. _
_Ma. _ It may be his Riches made Amends.
_Pa. _ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming
Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain.
_Ma. _ That is a miserable Story indeed.
_Pa. _ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for
slighting the young Gentleman.
_Ma. _ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure
such a Husband.
_Pa. _ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you.
_Ma. _ Well, if that will do, I do love you again.
_Pa. _ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a
Wife, not a Mistress.
_Ma. _ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which
being once done, can never be undone again.
_Pa. _ I have been deliberating too long already.
_Ma. _ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon
you, for they say he is blind.
_Pa. _ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment;
you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really
so, and therefore I love you.
_Ma. _ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on,
then you'll know where it pinches.
_Pa. _ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will
be happy for me.
_Ma. _ What, are you an Augur then?
_Pa. _ Yes, I am.
_Ma. _ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath
the Night Owl appear'd luckily?
_Pa. _ She flies for Fools.
_Ma. _ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand?
_Pa. _ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the
Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad
Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been
brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly
educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good
Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours
and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have
known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and
besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age,
Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that
which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very
well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in
themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may
be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me
prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy,
lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a
Denial.
_Ma. _ What would you have me say?
_Pa. _ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_
after me.
_Ma. _ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus.
_Pa. _ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one.
_Ma. _ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you
should repent of when done.
_Pa. _ Leave off teasing me.
_Ma. _ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or
Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty.
_Pa. _ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I
don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your
Guest within it I am most in Love with.
_Ma. _ What Guest do you mean?
_Pa. _ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase.
_Ma. _ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that
through so many Coverings.
_Pa. _ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then
besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children.
_Ma.
_Pa. _ You may see one dead Corpse before your Face, if you look upon
me.
_Ma. _ What strange Story is this? Does a dead Man talk and walk? I wish
I may never meet with more frightful Ghosts than you are.
_Pa. _ Ay, indeed, you make a Jest of it; but for all that, you kill poor
me, and more cruelly too, than if you stuck a Dagger in my Breast. For
now I, poor Wretch as I am, die a lingering Death.
_Ma. _ Prithee tell me, how many Women with Child have miscarried at the
Sight of thee?
_Pa. _ My Paleness shews I have no more Blood in my Body than a Ghost.
_Ma. _ Indeed you are as pale as a Violet; You are as pale as a ripe
Cherry, or purple Grape.
_Pa. _ You coquet it with my Misery.
_Ma. _ If you can't believe me, look in the Glass.
_Pa. _ I would never desire a better Glass, nor do I believe there is a
better in the World than I am a looking in already.
_Ma. _ What Looking-Glass do you mean?
_Pa. _ Your Eyes.
_Ma. _ You Banterer! that's like you. But how do you prove yourself to be
dead? Do dead Folks eat?
_Pa. _ Yes, they do; but Things that have no Relish, as I do.
_Ma. _ What do they feed upon?
_Pa. _ Mallows, Leeks, and Lupines.
_Ma. _ But you feed upon Capons and Partridges.
_Pa. _ If I do, I relish them no more than Beets without Pepper or
Vinegar.
_Ma. _ Poor Creature! but yet you're in pretty good Case, for all that.
And do dead Folks talk too?
_Pa. _ Just as I do, with a weak Voice.
_Ma. _ But when I heard you rallying your Rival a little While ago, your
Voice was not very low then. But, prithee, do Ghosts walk, wear Cloaths,
and sleep?
_Pa. _ Yes, and enjoy one another too, after their Manner.
_Ma. _ Thou art a merry Fellow.
_Pa. _ But what will you say, if I prove it by undeniable Arguments, that
I am dead, and that you have kill'd me too.
_Ma. _ God forbid, _Pamphilus_; but let's hear your Arguments, however.
_Pa. _ In the first Place, I think you will grant me this, that Death is
only a Separation of Soul and Body.
_Ma. _ I grant it.
_Pa. _ But you must grant it so as not to eat your Words.
_Ma. _ No, I will not.
_Pa. _ You will not deny, I suppose, that the Person that takes away
another's Life, is a Murtherer.
_Ma. _ I grant that too.
_Pa. _ I suppose you will grant that which has been allow'd by the
greatest Men of many Ages, that the Soul of a Man is not really where it
animates, but where it loves.
_Ma. _ Make that a little plainer, I can't well understand it then.
_Pa. _ You might as well bid me make an Adamant sensible of it.
_Ma. _ I am a Maid, not a Stone.
_Pa. _ Tis true, but harder than an Adamant Stone.
_Ma. _ Go on with your Inferences.
_Pa. _ Those that are in a Trance, do neither hear, nor see, nor smell,
nor feel, if you kill them outright.
_Ma. _ Indeed I have heard so.
_Pa. _ What do you think is the Reason?
_Ma. _ Do you, Philosopher, tell that.
_Pa. _ Because their Mind is in Heaven, where it enjoys what it dearly
loves; and therefore is absent from the Body.
_Ma. _ Well, what then?
_Pa. _ What then, hard-hearted Creature? Then it follows, that I am dead,
and you have killed me.
_Ma. _ Where is your Soul then?
_Pa. _ Where it loves.
_Ma. _ Who took this Soul of yours away? What do you Sigh for? Tell me
freely: There's no Hurt in it.
_Pa. _ A cruel Maid, that I could not be angry with if she kill'd me
outright.
_Ma. _ You're very good-humour'd; but why don't you take her Soul from
her too, and pay her in her own Coin, according to the old Proverb.
_Pa. _ I should be the happiest Man in the World, if I could make that
Exchange, that her Heart would pass as wholly into my Breast, as mine
has into hers.
_Ma. _ But may I play the Sophister with you now?
_Pa. _ The Sophistress.
_Ma. _ Can one and the same Body be both alive and dead?
_Pa. _ Not at the same Time.
_Ma. _ Is the Body dead, when the Soul is out of it?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ Nor does it animate it, but when it is in it?
_Pa. _ No, it does not.
_Ma. _ How comes it to pass then, that when it is there where it loves,
it yet animates the Body it is gone out of? And if it animates when it
loves any where, how is that called a dead Body which it animates?
_Pa. _ Indeed, you argue very cunningly, but you shan't catch me there.
That Soul, which after some Sort governs the Body of the Lover, is but
improperly call'd a Soul, when it is but some small Remains of the Soul;
just as the Smell of a Rose remains in the Hand, when the Rose is gone.
_Ma. _ I see it is a hard Matter to catch a Fox in a Trap. But answer me
this Question, does not the Person that kills, act?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ And does not he suffer who is kill'd?
_Pa. _ Yes.
_Ma. _ And how comes it about then, that when he that loves, acts, and
she that is lov'd, suffers, she that is lov'd should be said to kill,
when he that loves, rather kills himself?
_Pa. _ Nay, on the Contrary, 'tis he that loves that suffers, and she is
lov'd, that acts.
_Ma. _ You will never prove that by all your Grammar.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll prove it by Logic then.
_Ma. _ But do so much as answer me this one Question, do you love
voluntarily, or against your Will?
_Pa. _ Voluntarily.
_Ma. _ Then since a Person is at Liberty, whether he will love or no; he
that does love, is guilty of _Felo de se_, and accuses a Maid
wrongfully.
_Pa. _ A Maid does not kill in being lov'd, but in not loving again. He
is guilty of killing, that can save and don't save.
_Ma. _ What if a young Man should fall into an unlawful Love, as suppose
with another Man's Wife, or a Vestal Virgin? Must she love him again, to
save the Lover?
_Pa. _ But the young Man, meaning myself, loves one whom he ought to
love, and by Right and good Reason, and yet am murthered. If Murther be
a light Matter, I could indict you for Witchcraft too.
_Ma. _ God forbid, do you make a _Circe_ of me?
_Pa. _ You are more barbarous than _Circe_ herself, I had rather be a Hog
or a Bear, than as I now am, half dead.
_Ma. _ By what Sort of Enchantments do I kill Men?
_Pa. _ By the Witchcraft of your Eyes.
_Ma. _ Would you have me take my noxious Eyes off of you then.
_Pa. _ No, by no Means, rather look more upon me.
_Ma. _ If my Eyes are so infectious, how comes it about they don't throw
others I look upon into a Consumption too? I therefore rather believe
the Infection is in your own Eyes than mine.
_Pa. _ Is it not enough for you to kill poor _Pamphilus_, but you must
insult him too.
_Ma. _ O pretty dead Creature! but when must I come to your Funeral?
_Pa. _ Sooner than you think for, if you don't relieve me.
_Ma. _ Can I perform such a wonderful Cure?
_Pa. _ You can raise a dead Man to Life again with the greatest Ease
imaginable.
_Ma. _ Ay, if I had the Grand-Elixir.
_Pa. _ You have no Need of any Medicine, do but love me again. And what's
easier than that? Nay, what's more just? You can no other Way in the
World get clear of the Crime of Murther.
_Ma. _ In what Court must I be try'd?
In the Court of Chancery?
_Pa. _ No, in the Court of _Venus_.
_Ma. _ They say, she is a very merciful Goddess.
_Pa. _ Nay, the most severe in the World.
_Ma. _ Has she any Thunderbolts?
_Pa. _ No.
_Ma. _ Has she got a Trident?
_Pa. _ No.
_Ma. _ Has she got a Spear?
_Pa. _ No; but she is the Goddess of the Sea.
_Ma. _ But I don't go to Sea.
_Pa. _ But she has a Son.
_Ma. _ Youth is not very formidable.
_Pa. _ But he is very revengeful and resolute.
_Ma. _ What will he do to me?
_Pa. _ What will he do? That which I can't wish to be done to one I wish
so well to. God forbid I should.
_Ma. _ Tell me what it is, for I an't afraid to hear it.
_Pa. _ Well, I'll tell you then; if you slight me that love you, and am
no Way unworthy of your Love; I shall be much mistaken if he don't by
his Mother's Order shoot you with a venomous Dart, and make you fall
deeply in Love with some sorry Fellow or other, that would not love you
again.
_Ma. _ That's a most horrid Punishment indeed. I had rather die a
thousand Deaths than to be so bitterly in Love with an ugly Man, and one
that won't love me neither.
_Pa. _ But we had a notable Example of this not long since upon a certain
Maid.
_Ma. _ Where did she live?
_Pa. _ At _Orleans_.
_Ma. _ How many Years ago was it?
_Pa. _ How many Years! not ten Months.
_Ma. _ What was her Name? What do you stick at?
_Pa. _ Nothing at all. I know her as well as I know you.
_Ma. _ Why don't you tell me her Name then?
_Pa. _ Because I am afraid it is ominous. I wish she had been of some
other Name. She was your own Namesake.
_Ma. _ Who was her Father?
_Pa. _ Her Father is alive at this Time, and is a topping Lawyer, and a
rich Man.
_Ma. _ Tell me his Name.
_Pa. Mauritius. _
_Ma. _ His Sirname.
_Pa. Aglaius. _
_Ma. _ Is her Mother alive?
_Pa. _ No, she died lately.
_Ma. _ What did she die of, say you?
_Pa. _ Why of Grief, and it had like to have cost her Father his Life
too, for all he was a Man of a strong Constitution.
_Ma. _ Mayn't a Body know her Mother's Name.
_Pa. _ Yes, _Sophrona_, every Body knows her Name. What do you mean by
that Question? Do you think I invent a Lye?
_Ma. _ Why should I think so of you? Our Sex is most to be suspected for
that. But tell me what became of the Maid?
_Pa. _ The Maid, as I told you before, came of very honest Parents, had a
good Fortune, was very handsome, and in few Words, was a Match for a
Prince; a certain Gentleman of an equal Fortune courted her.
_Ma. _ What was his Name?
_Pa. _ Ah me, I can't bear the Thoughts of it, his Name was _Pamphilus_
as well as mine. He try'd all the Ways in the World to gain her good
Will; but she slighted all his Offers. The young Man pines away with
Grief. Presently after she fell deep in Love with one more like an Ape
than a Man.
_Ma. _ How!
_Pa. _ Ay, so wretchedly in Love, that 'tis impossible to relate it.
_Ma. _ Such a pretty Maid to fall in Love with such an ugly Fellow?
_Pa. _ Ay, with a long-visag'd, scald-headed, bald-pated, hollow-ey'd,
snub-nos'd, wide-mouth'd, rotton-tooth'd, stuttering, scabby-bearded,
hump-back'd, gor-belly'd, bandy-legg'd Fellow.
_Ma. _ You tell me of a mere _Thersites_.
_Pa. _ Nay, they said he had but one Ear, neither.
_Ma. _ It may be he had lost the other in the War.
_Pa. _ No, he lost it in Peace.
_Ma. _ Who dar'd to cut it off?
_Pa. Jack Ketch. _
_Ma. _ It may be his Riches made Amends.
_Pa. _ Over Head and Ears in Debt. And with this Husband this charming
Girl now spends her Days, and is now and then drubb'd into the Bargain.
_Ma. _ That is a miserable Story indeed.
_Pa. _ But it is a true one. It is a just Retaliation upon her, for
slighting the young Gentleman.
_Ma. _ I should rather chuse to be thunder-struck than ty'd to endure
such a Husband.
_Pa. _ Then don't provoke Justice, but love him that loves you.
_Ma. _ Well, if that will do, I do love you again.
_Pa. _ Ay, But I would have that Love constant as mine own. I court a
Wife, not a Mistress.
_Ma. _ I suppose so, but yet we ought to be very deliberate in that which
being once done, can never be undone again.
_Pa. _ I have been deliberating too long already.
_Ma. _ Love is none of the best Advisers; see that he han't impos'd upon
you, for they say he is blind.
_Pa. _ But that Love has Eyes in his Head, that proceeds from Judgment;
you don't appear so amiable, only because I love you, but you are really
so, and therefore I love you.
_Ma. _ But perhaps you don't know me thoroughly. When once a Shoe is on,
then you'll know where it pinches.
_Pa. _ I'll venture it, but I gather from many Conjectures, that it will
be happy for me.
_Ma. _ What, are you an Augur then?
_Pa. _ Yes, I am.
_Ma. _ Pray by what Auguries do you prognosticate all this? What, hath
the Night Owl appear'd luckily?
_Pa. _ She flies for Fools.
_Ma. _ Did you see a pair of Pigeons on your right Hand?
_Pa. _ Nothing of all this. But have for some Years been satisfy'd of the
Honesty of your Father and Mother; and in the first Place, that's no bad
Sign. Nor am I ignorant how modestly and religiously you have been
brought up by them, and it is a greater Advantage to be honestly
educated, than honourably born. And then there's another good
Circumstance besides, that as my Parents are none of the worst, so yours
and mine have been very intimate for many Years, and you and I have
known one another from our very Childhood, as they use to say; and
besides all this, our Humours agree very well together. Our Age,
Fortunes, Quality, and Parentage are pretty equal. And last of all, that
which is the chief Thing in Friendship, your Temper seems to agree very
well with mine. There are some Things that may be very good in
themselves that may not agree with others. How acceptable my Temper may
be to yours, I don't know. These are the Auguries, my Dear, that make me
prognosticate that a Marriage between you and me would be happy,
lasting, comfortable and pleasant, unless you shall prevent it by a
Denial.
_Ma. _ What would you have me say?
_Pa. _ I will sing _I am thine_ first, and you shall sing _I am thine_
after me.
_Ma. _ That indeed is but a short Song, but it has a long Chorus.
_Pa. _ What signifies it how long it is, so it be a merry one.
_Ma. _ I have that Respect for you, I would not have you do what you
should repent of when done.
_Pa. _ Leave off teasing me.
_Ma. _ Perhaps I shall not appear so amiable in your Eye, when Age or
Sickness have spoil'd my Beauty.
_Pa. _ No more, my Dear, shall I myself be always so young and lusty. I
don't only look at that blooming, lovely Body of yours, but it is your
Guest within it I am most in Love with.
_Ma. _ What Guest do you mean?
_Pa. _ This Soul of yours, whose Beauty will grow as Years increase.
_Ma. _ In Truth you have a very penetrating Sight, if you can see that
through so many Coverings.
_Pa. _ It is with the Eyes of my Mind that I see your Mind, and then
besides we shall be ever and anon renewing our Age by our Children.
_Ma.
