William Wycherley [Four Plays]. William Wycherley
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Ran. Ha! this is no Lydia. [Aside.
Chris. What, unworthy defamer, has encouraged you to offer this insolence?
Ran. She is liker Lydia in her style than her face. I see I am mistaken; but to tell her I followed her for another, were an affront rather than an excuse. She's a glorious creature! [Aside.
Chris. Tell me, sir, whence had you reason for this your rude pursuit of me, into my lodgings, my chamber? why should you follow me?
Ran. Faith, madam, because you ran away from me.
Chris. That was no sign of an acquaintance.
Ran. You'll pardon me, madam.
Chris. Then, it seems, you mistook me for another, and the night is your excuse, which blots out all distinctions. But now you are satisfied in your mistake, I hope you will seek out your woman in another place.
Ran. Madam, I allow not the excuse you make for me. If I have offended, I will rather be condemned for my love, than pardoned for my insensibility.
Lyd. How's that? [Aside.
Chris. What do you say?
Ran. Though the night had been darker, my heart would not have suffered me to follow any one but you:—he has been too long acquainted with you to mistake you.
Lyd. What means this tenderness? he mistook me for her sure. [Aside.
Chris. What says the gentleman? did you know me then, sir?
Ran. [Aside.] Not I, the devil take me! but I must on now.—[Aloud.] Could you imagine, madam, by the innumerable crowd of your admirers, you had left any man free in the town, or ignorant of the power of your beauty?
Chris. I never saw your face before, that I remember.
Ran. Ah, madam! you would never regard your humblest slave; I was till now a modest lover.
Lyd. Falsest of men! [Aside.
Chris. My woman said, you came to seek a relation here, not a mistress.
Ran. I must confess, madam, I thought you would sooner disprove my dissembled error, than admit my visit, and was resolved to see you.
Lyd. 'Tis clear! [Aside.
Ran. Indeed, when I followed you first out of the Park, I was afraid you might have been a certain relation of mine, for your statures and habits are the same; but when you entered here, I was with joy convinced. Besides, I would not for the world have given her troublesome love so much encouragement, to have disturbed my future addresses to you; for the foolish woman does perpetually torment me to make our relation nearer; but never more in vain than since I have seen you, madam.
Lyd. How! shall I suffer this? 'tis clear he disappointed me to-night for her, and made me stay at home that I might not disappoint him of her company in the Park. [Aside.
Chris. I am amazed! but let me tell you, sir, if the lady were here, I would satisfy her the sight of me should never frustrate her ambitious designs upon her cruel kinsman.
Lyd. I wish you could satisfy me. [Aside.
Ran. If she were here, she would satisfy you she were not capable of the honour to be taken for you:—though in the dark. Faith, my cousin is but a tolerable woman to a man that had not seen you.
Chris. Sure, to my plague, this is the first time you ever saw me!
Ran. Sure, to the plague of my poor heart, 'tis not the hundredth time I have seen you! For, since the time I saw you first, you have not been at the Park, playhouse, Exchange,[34] or other public place, but I saw you; for it was my business to watch and follow.
Chris. Pray, when did you see me last at the Park, playhouse, or Exchange?
Ran. Some two, three days, or a week ago.
Chris. I have not been this month out of this chamber.
Lyd. That is to delude me. [Aside.
Chris. I knew you were mistaken.
Ran. You'll pardon a lover's memory, madam.—[Aside.] A pox! I have hanged myself in my own line. One would think my perpetual ill-luck in lying should break me of the quality; but, like a losing gamester, I am still for pushing on, till none will trust me.
Chris. Come, sir, you run out of one error into a greater: you would excuse the rudeness of your mistake, and intrusion at this hour into my lodgings, with your gallantry to me—more unseasonable and offensive.
Ran. Nay, I am in love I see, for I blush and have not a word to say for myself.
Chris. But, sir, if you will needs play the gallant, pray leave my house before morning, lest you should be seen go hence, to the scandal of my honour. Rather than that should be, I'll call up the house and neighbours to bear witness I bid you begone.
Ran. Since you take a night visit so ill, madam, I will never wait upon you again but by day. I go, that I may hope to return; and, for once, I wish you a good night without me.
Chris. Good night, for as long as I live. [Exit Ranger.
Lyd. And good night to my love, I'm sure. [Aside.
Chris. Though I have done you an inconsiderable service, I assure you, madam, you are not a little obliged to me.—[Aside.] Pardon me, dear Valentine!
Lyd. I know not yet whether I am more obliged than injured: when I do, I assure you, madam, I shall not be insensible of either.
Chris. I fear, madam, you are as liable to mistakes as your kinsman.
Lyd. I fear I am more subject to 'em: it may be for want of sleep, therefore I'll go home.
Chris. My Lady Flippant, good night.
L. Flip. Good night, or rather good morrow, faithful shepherdess.
Chris. I'll wait on you down.
Lyd. Your coach stays yet, I hope.
L. Flip. Certainly. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The Street before Christina's Lodging.
Enter Ranger and Dapperwit.
Dap. I was a faithful sentinel: nobody came out, let me perish!
Ran. No, no, I hunted upon a wrong scent; I thought I had followed a woman, but found her an angel.
Dap. What is her name?
Ran. That you must tell me. What very fine woman is there lives hereabouts?
Dap. Faith, I know not any. She is, I warrant you, some fine woman of a term's standing or so in the town; such as seldom appear in public, but in their balconies, where they stand so constantly, one would think they had hired no other part of the house.
Ran. And look like the pictures which painters expose to draw in customers;—but I must know who she is. Vincent's lodging is hard by, I'll go and inquire of him, and lie with him to-night: but if he will not let me, I'll lie with you, for my lodging is too far off.
Dap. Then I will go before, and expect you at mine. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—Vincent's Lodging.
Enter Vincent and Valentine in a riding habit, as newly from a journey.
Vin. Your