DOR. Open it quickly, come.
SCRUB. In the first place I enquired who the gentleman was; they told me he was a stranger. Secondly, I asked what the gentleman was; they an
|swered and said, that they never saw him before.||60|
|and they replied, they knew nothing of the mat||65|
MRS. SUL. But what do the people say? Can't they guess?
SCRUB. Why, some think he's a spy, some guess
|he's a mountebank, some say one thing, some an||70|
DOR. A Jesuit. Why a Jesuit?
SCRUB. Because he keeps his horses always ready saddled, and his footman talks French.
|MRS. SUL. His footman!||75|
SCRUB. Ay, he and the count's footman were gabbering French like two intriguing ducks in a millpond; and I believe they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.
|DOR. What sort of Every has the footman?||80|
SCRUB. Livery! Lord, madam, I took him for a captain, he's so bedizened with lace! And then he has tops to his shoes, up to his mid leg, a silver- headed cane dangling at his knuckles; he carries his
|hands in his pockets just so -- (walks in the||85|
MRS. SUL. That may easily be. -- But what shall
|we do now, sister?||90|
DOR. I have it. This fellow has a world of simplicity, and some cunning; the first hides the latter by abundance. -- Scrub!
|DOR. We have a great mind to know who this||95|
SCRUB. Yes, madam, it would be a satisfaction, no doubt.
DOR. You must go and get acquainted with his
|footman, and invite him hitherto drink a bottle||100|
SCRUB. Yes, madam, I am butler every Sunday.
MRS. SUL. O brave, sister! O' my conscience, you understand the mathematics already -- 'tis the best
|plot in the world: your mother, you know, will||105|
|know, any stranger is company, and we're glad||110|
SCRUB. Oh! Madam, you wrong me! I never refused your ladyship the favor in my life.
|GIP. Ladies, dinner's upon table.||115|
DOR. Scrub, well excuse your waiting -- go where we ordered you.
SCRUB. I shall. Exeunt.
Scene changes to the inn.
Enter AIMWELLand ARCHER.
ARCH. Well, Tom, I find you're a marksman.
AIM. A marksman I who so blind could be, as not discern a swan among the ravens?
ARCH Well, but hark'ee, Aimwell --
|AIM. Aimwell! Call me Oroondates, Cesario,||5|
|groves, and purling streams played on her plen||10|
ARCH. Her face! her pocket, you mean; the corn, wine, and oil lies there. In short, she has ten thousand pound, that's the English on't.
|AIM. Her eyes --||15|
ARCH. Are demi-cannons, to be sure; so I won't stand their battery. (Going.)
AIM. Pray excuse me; my passion must have vent.
ARCH. Passion! what a plague, d'ee think these
|romantic airs will do our business? Were My||20|
AIM. Your adventures!
With brazen engine2 hot, and quoif3 dear starched, Can fire the guest in warming of the bed -----
The nymph that with her twice ten hundred pounds, 25
There's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and the subject but an innkeeper's daughter! I can play
|with a girl as an angler does with his fish; he||30|
BON. Mr. Martin, as the saying is -- yonder's an
|honest fellow below, my Lady Bountiful's but||35|