The Conscious Lovers

a spirit that we shall never be dull in marriage when we come together. But I tell you, you are a fortune, and you have an estate in my hands. He pulls out a purse, she eyes it. Phillis What pretence have I to what is in your hands, Mr. Tom? Tom As thus: there are hours, you know, when a lady is neither pleased or displeased; neither sick or well; when she lolls or loiters; when she’s without desires⁠—from having more of everything than she knows what to do with. Phillis Well, what then? Tom When she has not life enough to keep her bright eyes quite open, to look at her own dear image in the glass. Phillis Explain thyself, and don’t be so fond of thy own prating. Tom There are also prosperous and good-natured moments: as when a knot or a patch is happily fixed; when the complexion particularly flourishes. Phillis Well, what then? I have not patience! Tom Why, then⁠—or on the like occasions⁠—we servants who have skill to know how to time business, see when such a pretty folded thing as this shows a letter may be presented, laid, or dropped, as best suits the present humour. And, madam, because it is a long wearisome journey to run through all the several stages of a lady’s temper, my master, who is the most reasonable man in the world, presents you this to bear your charges on the road. Gives her the purse. Phillis Now you think me a corrupt hussy. Tom O fie, I only think you’ll take the letter. Phillis Nay, I know you do, but I know my own innocence; I take it for my mistress’s sake. Tom I know it, my pretty one, I know it. Phillis Yes, I say I do it, because I would not have my mistress deluded by one who gives no proof of his passion; but I’ll talk more of tips as you see me on my way home. No, Tom, I assure thee, I take this trash of thy master’s, not for the value of the thing, but as it convinces me he has a true respect for my mistress. I remember a verse to the purpose⁠—

They may be false who languish and complain,
But they who part with money never feign.

Exeunt.

Scene II. Bevil Jr.’s Lodgings.

	Bevil Jr., reading.
Bevil Jr.	These moral writers practise virtue after death. This charming vision of Mirza!23 Such an author consulted in a morning sets the spirit for the vicissitudes of the day better than the glass does a man’s person. But what a day have I to go through! to put on an easy look with an aching heart! If this lady my father urges me to marry should not refuse me, my dilemma is insupportable. But why should I fear it? Is not she in equal distress with me? Has not the letter I have sent her this morning confessed my inclination to another? Nay, have I not moral assurances of her engagements, too, to my friend Myrtle? It’s impossible but she must give in to it; for, sure, to be denied is a favour any man may pretend to. It must be so⁠—Well, then, with the assurance of being rejected, I think I may confidently say to my father, I am ready to marry her. Then let me resolve upon, what I am not very good at, though it is an honest dissimulation.
	Enter Tom.
Tom	Sir John Bevil, sir, is in the next room.
Bevil Jr.	Dunce! Why did not you bring him in?
Tom	I told him, sir, you were in your closet.
Bevil Jr.	I thought you had known, sir, it was my duty to see my father anywhere. Going himself to the door.
Tom	The devil’s in my master! he has always more wit than I have. Aside.
	Bevil Jr., introducing Sir John.
Bevil Jr.	Sir, you are the most gallant, the most complaisant of all parents. Sure, ’tis not a compliment to say these lodgings are yours. Why would you not walk in, sir?
John Bevil	I was loth to interrupt you unseasonably on your wedding-day.
Bevil Jr.	One to whom I am beholden for my birthday might have used less ceremony.
John Bevil	Well, son, I have intelligence you have writ to your mistress this morning. It would please my curiosity to know the contents of a wedding-day letter; for courtship must then be over.
Bevil Jr.	I assure you, sir, there was no insolence in it upon the prospect of such a vast fortune’s being added to our family; but much acknowledgment of the lady’s greater desert.
John Bevil	But, dear Jack, are you in earnest in all this? And will you really marry her?
Bevil Jr.	Did I ever disobey any command of yours, sir? nay, any inclination that I saw you bent upon?
John Bevil	Why, I can’t say you have, son; but methinks in this whole business, you have not been so warm as I could have wished you. You have visited her, it’s true, but you have not been particular. Everyone knows you can say and do as handsome things as any man; but you have done nothing but lived in the general⁠—been complaisant only.
Bevil Jr.	As I am ever prepared to marry if you bid me, so I am ready to let it alone if you will have me.
	Humphry enters, unobserved.
John Bevil	Look you there now! why, what am I to think of this so absolute and so indifferent a resignation?
Bevil Jr.	Think? that I am still your son, sir. Sir, you have been married, and I have not. And you have, sir, found the inconvenience there is when a man weds with too much love in his head. I have been told, sir, that at the time you married, you made a mighty bustle on the occasion. There was challenging and fighting, scaling walls, locking up the lady, and the gallant under an arrest for fear of killing all his rivals.