The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume III eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 414 pages of information about The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume III.

Fran.  I’ll not give her a farthing.

Guil.  No matter, her Love’s worth a million; and, that’s so great, that I’m sure she’ll be content to carry my Soot basket after me.

Isa.  Ah!  I die, I die.

Guil.  What, and I so kind?
                 [Goes and kisses her, and blacks her face.

Isa.  Help! murder, murder!

Guil.  Well, Gentlemen, I am something a better fortune than you believe me, by some thousands.
[Shows Car. his Writings.

Car.  Substantial and good! faith, Sir, I know not where you’ll find a better fortune for your Daughter, as cases stand. [To Francisco.

Guil.  And, for the Viscount, Sir, gay Clothes, Money and Confidence will set me up for one, in any ground in Christendom.

Car.  Faith, Sir, he’s i’th’ right; take him home to Sevil, your Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make him; the Fellow’s honest, witty and handsom.

Fran.  Well, I have considered the matter:  I was but a Leather-seller my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord?  Faith, I’ll trust to Fortune, for once—­here—­take her and rid me of one Plague, as you, I thank you, Sir, have done of another. [To Carlos.

Guil.  Prithee be pacified, thou shalt see me within this hour as pretty a fluttering Spark as any’s in Town.—­My noble Lord, I give you thanks and joy; for, you are happy too.

Car.  As Love and Beauty can make me.

Fran.  And I, as no damn’d Wife, proud Daughter, or tormenting Chamber-maid can make me.

Ant.  And I, as Heaven and Clara can. _—­You base-born Beauties, whose ill-manner’d Pride, Th’industrious noble Citizens deride.  May you all meet with_ Isabella’s doom.

Guil. _—­And all such Husbands as the Count_ Guiliome.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. Barry, made by a Person of Quality.

I Come not a Petitioner to sue,
This Play the Author has writ down to you;
’Tis a slight Farce, five Days brought forth with ease,
So very foolish that it needs must please;
For though each day good Judges take offence, |
And Satir arms in Comedy’s defence, |
You are still true to your
Jack-Pudding_ Sense. |
No Buffoonry can miss your Approbation,
You love it as you do a new_ French Fashion: 
Thus in true hate of Sense, and Wit’s despite,
Bantring and Shamming is your dear delight. 
Thus among all the Folly’s here abounding,
None took like the new Ape-trick of Dumfounding. 
If to make People laugh the business be, |
You Sparks better Comedians are than we; |

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume III from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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