Jenny. I see I must interpose. Stay you there, sir; let me speak to him.—Sir, pray do us the favor to go and tell the lady that it's disagreeable to my master. Danc.-mast. I will have him dance. Sour. The rascal! the rascal! Jenny. Consider, if you please, my master is a grave man. Danc.-mast. I'll have him dance. Jenny. You may stand in need of him. Sour. (Taking her aside.) Yes, tell him that when he will, without costing him a farthing, I'll bleed and purge him his bellyful. Danc.-mast. I have nothing to do with that; I'll have him dance, or have his blood. Sour. The rascal! (muttering). Jenny. Sir, I can't work upon him: the madman will not. hear reason. Some harm will happen-we are alone. Sour. 'Tis very true. Jenny. Look on him; he has an ill look. Danc.-mast. Make haste, I say, make haste. Jenny. Ay, you may cry for help. Do you know that all your neighbors would be glad to see you robbed and your throat cut? Believe me, sir, two Allemande steps may save your life. Sour. But if it should come to be known, I should be taken for a fool. Jenny. Love excuses all follies; and I have heard say that when Hercules was in love, he spun for Queen Omphale. Sour. Yes, Hercules spun, but Hercules did not dance the Allemande. Jenny. Well, you must tell him so; the gentleman will teach you another. Danc.-mast. Will you have a minuet, sir? Sour. A minuet! no. Sour. The passay; no. Danc.-mast. What, then? the trocanny, the tricotez, the rigadon? Come, choose, choose. Sour. No, no, no, I like none of these. Danc.-mast. You would have a grave, serious dance perhaps? Sour. Yes, a serious one, if there be any-but a very serious dance. Danc.-mast. Well, the courante, the hornpipe, the brocane, the saraband? Sour. No, no, no. Danc.-mast. What the devil, then, will you have? But make haste, or death! Sour. Come on, then, since it must be so. I'll learn a few steps of the-the Danc.-mast. What of the-the Sour. I know not what. Danc.-mast. You mock me, sir; you shall dance the Allemande, since Clarissa will have it so, or— [He leads him about, the fiddle playing the Allemande. Sour. I shall be laughed at by the whole town if it should be known. I am determined, for this frolic, to deprive Clarissa of that invaluable blessing, the possession of my person. Danc.-mast. Come, come, sir; move, move (teaching him). Sour. Cockatrice! Danc.-mast. One, two, three (teaching). Enter WENTWORTHI Oh, brother, you are come in good time to free me from this cursed bondage! Went. How! for shame, brother, at your age to be thus foolish! Sour. As I hope for mercy Went. For shame, for shame! practising at sixty what should have been finished at six. Danc.-mast. He's not the only grown gentleman I have had in hand. Went. Brother, brother, you'll be the mockery of the whole city. Sour. Eternal babbler! hear me. This cursed, confounded villain will make me dance perforce. Went. Perforce! Sour. Yes; by order, he says, of Clarissa. But since I now find she is unworthy, I give her up-renounce her forever. [The young couple enter immediately after this declaration, and, finding no further obstruction to their union, the piece finishes with the consent of the Grumbler, "in the hope," as he says, "that they are possessed of mutual requisites to be the plague of each other."] |