SIR SAMP. Are you answered now, sir?
VAL. Yes, sir.
SIR SAMP. Where's your plot, sir? and your contrivance now, sir?
Will you sign, sir? Come, will you sign and seal?
VAL. With all my heart, sir.
SCAN. 'Sdeath, you are not mad indeed, to ruin yourself?
VAL. I have been disappointed of my only hope, and he that loses hope may part with anything. I never valued fortune but as it was subservient to my pleasure, and my only pleasure was to please this lady. I have made many vain attempts, and find at last that nothing but my ruin can effect it; which, for that reason, I will sign to-- give me the paper.
ANG. Generous Valentine! [Aside.]
BUCK. Here is the deed, sir.
VAL. But where is the bond by which I am obliged to sign this?
BUCK. Sir Sampson, you have it.
ANG. No, I have it, and I'll use it as I would everything that is an enemy to Valentine. [Tears the paper.]
SIR SAMP. How now?
VAL. Ha!
ANG. Had I the world to give you, it could not make me worthy of so generous and faithful a passion. Here's my hand: --my heart was always yours, and struggled very hard to make this utmost trial of your virtue. [To VALENTINE.]
VAL. Between pleasure and amazement I am lost. But on my knees I take the blessing.
SIR SAMP. Oons, what is the meaning of this?
BEN. Mess, here's the wind changed again. Father, you and I may make a voyage together now.
ANG. Well, Sir Sampson, since I have played you a trick, I'll advise you how you may avoid such another. Learn to be a good father, or you'll never get a second wife. I always loved your son, and hated your unforgiving nature. I was resolved to try him to the utmost; I have tried you too, and know you both. You have not more faults than he has virtues, and 'tis hardly more pleasure to me that I can make him and myself happy than that I can punish you.
VAL. If my happiness could receive addition, this kind surprise would make it double.
SIR SAMP. Oons, you're a crocodile.
FORE. Really, Sir Sampson, this is a sudden eclipse.
SIR SAMP. You're an illiterate old fool, and I'm another.
TATT. If the gentleman is in disorder for want of a wife, I can spare him mine.--Oh, are you there, sir? I'm indebted to you for my happiness. [To JEREMY.]
JERE. Sir, I ask you ten thousand pardons: 'twas an errant mistake. You see, sir, my master was never mad, nor anything like it. Then how could it be otherwise?
VAL. Tattle, I thank you; you would have interposed between me and heaven, but Providence laid purgatory in your way. You have but justice.
SCAN. I hear the fiddles that Sir Sampson provided for his own wedding; methinks 'tis pity they should not be employed when the match is so much mended. Valentine, though it be morning, we may have a dance.
VAL. Anything, my friend, everything that looks like joy and transport.
SCAN. Call 'em, Jeremy.
ANG. I have done dissembling now, Valentine; and if that coldness which I have always worn before you should turn to an extreme fondness, you must not suspect it.
VAL. I'll prevent that suspicion: for I intend to dote to that immoderate degree that your fondness shall never distinguish itself enough to be taken notice of. If ever you seem to love too much, it must be only when I can't love enough.
ANG. Have a care of promises; you know you are apt to run more in debt than you are able to pay.
VAL. Therefore I yield my body as your prisoner, and make your best on't.
SCAN. The music stays for you. [Dance.]
SCAN. Well, madam, you have done exemplary justice in punishing an inhuman father and rewarding a faithful lover. But there is a third good work which I, in particular, must thank you for: I was an infidel to your sex, and you have converted me. For now I am convinced that all women are not like fortune, blind in bestowing favours, either on those who do not merit or who do not want 'em.
ANG. 'Tis an unreasonable accusation that you lay upon our sex: you tax us with injustice, only to cover your own want of merit.
You would all have the reward of love, but few have the constancy to stay till it becomes your due. Men are generally hypocrites and infidels: they pretend to worship, but have neither zeal nor faith.
How few, like Valentine, would persevere even to martyrdom, and sacrifice their interest to their constancy! In admiring me, you misplace the novelty.
The miracle to-day is, that we find A lover true; not that a woman's kind.
