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Show The Beaux Stratagem. 47 ( Scrub. Ay, Sir, a Plot, a horrid Plot. Firft, it muft )e a Plot, becaufe there's a W o m a n in't; Secondly, it muft >e a Plot, becaufe there's a Prieft in't; Thirdly, it muft be a Plot, becaufe there's French Gold in't; and Fourthly, it muft JZ a Plot, becaufe I don't know what to make on't. I Arch. Nor any body elfe, I'm afraid, Brother Scrub. I Scrub. Truly, I'm afraid fo too ; for where there's a Prieft and a W o m a n , there's always a Myftery and a Riddle. This, I know, that here has been the Doctor with a Temptation in one hand, and an Abfolution in the other ; and Gipfey has fold her felf to the Devil; I faw the Price paid down, "my Eyes fhall take their Oath on't. ' Arch. A n d is all this buftle about Gipfey f Scrub. That's not all; I cou'd hear but a word here and ^there; but I remember they mention'd a Count, a Clofet, a Back-door, and a Key. Arch. The Count! Did you hear nothing of Mrs. Sullen * Scrub. I did hear fome word that founded that way ; but 'whether it was Sullen, or Dorinda, I cou'd not diftinguifh. Arch. You have told this Matter to no body, Brother ? Scrub. Told! N o , Sir, I thank you for that; I'm refolv'd jriever to fpeak one word pro nor con, till w e have a Peace. Arch. You're i'th' right, Brother Scrub; here's a Treaty a foot between the Count and the Lady. The Prieft and the 'Chamber-maid are the Plenipotentiaries. It fhall go hard 3 but I find a way to be included in the Treaty. Where's the Doctor, now? Scrub. He and Gipfey are this moment devouring m y Lady's Marmalade in the Clofet. Aim. [From without."] Martin, Martin! Arch. I come, Sir, I come. I Scrub. But you forgot the other Guinea, Brother Martin.- Arch. Here, I give it with all m y Heart. Scrub. And I take it with all m y Soul. (Exeunt fever ally. I'cod, I'll fpoil your Plotting, Mrs. Gipfey; and if you fhou'd fet the Captain upon me, thefe two Guineas will buy m e off. (Exit. Enter Mrs. Sullen and Dorinda meeting. ' Mrs. Sull. Well, Sifter. Dor. And well, Sifter. Mrs. Sull. What's become of m y Lord ? Dor. What's become of his Servant? Mrs. Sull. Servant! He's a prettier Fellow, and a finer Gentleman by fifty Degrees than his Mafter, Dor* |
