Selected Works of Eliza Haywood

A Wife to be Let - ACT IV.

Enter Dogood, Shamble, and Widow.

WID. Indeed, Sir Tristram, this offer of your sister for my nephew convinces me the most of anything of your affection. I wish there were a way for me to get off with Mr. Fairman.

SHAM. Madam, the passion I have for you makes me study your interest, which I think you ought to prefer to ceremony. My sister's fortune, which is 5000l, more than Mr. Fairman proffers with his daughter, is in her own hands, and I'll undertake she shall be content with only her own money settled on her.

WID. That is obliging indeed. I was certainly bewitched when I agreed to Mr. Fairman's proposal. But alas! I did not think of marrying then, nor am I sure I shall yet.

SHAM. How, madam! Not sure of marrying? You have undone my quiet, drove me to despair, and without you retract those cruel words, you shall very soon see the fatal consequence.

WID. nay, Sir Tristram I only said—

SHAM. O you have ruined me! Farewell board-wages and laced liveries! Farewell all joy, all peace of mind, all happiness! Welcome ye solitary groves and baleful yew, ye purling streams and cooing doves: behold the unhappy Shamtown oppressed with grief, and sunk with sad despair, joins in your moan! The cruel Stately scorns my passion.

WID. Sir Tristram, won't you hear me?

SHAM. Oh! Can I bear a doubt of that happiness I so ardently desire, and yet live? No, no, death will soon ease me of these pains. I will rip up this faithful breast, and show my panting heart.

WID. Sir Tristram, I did not say that —

SHAM. Was it for this you gave me hopes? Did you raise me up but to make my fall the greater?

WID. Why, Sir Tristram! Lord, I think he's run mad indeed. What shall I say to him, Dogood?

DO. Tell him you'll marry him this minute. Say anything.

WID. Why then, Sir Tristram, to show you —

SHAM. What unhappy destiny drove me here, or first fixed my eyes on that lovely cruel woman. Oh that I could forget I ever saw you!

WID. Why, Sir Tristram, to convince you that I am not cruel, send for a parson, and make me my Lady Shamtown.

SHAM. Ha! Do you mock my grief? Nay, Then death must he my portion. [Offers to fall on his sword.

DO. Ah!

WID. Ah! For goodness sake, Sir Tristram, I am in earnest. I vow and swear, I will marry you this minute, if you please.

SHAM. Can it be possible—but I'll not believe I am so happy.

WID. Then follow me, and put it to the proof.[Exit.]

DO. You'd make a rare actor.