THE LUCKY CHANCE
A monologue from the
play by Aphra
Behn
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. 3. Ed. Montague Summers.
London: Heinemann, 1915. |
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BREDWEL: You are my Lady, and the best of Mistresses--Therefore
I would not grieve you, for I know you love this best--but most
unhappy Man. [Pause.] My Master sent me yesterday to Mr.
Crap, his Scrivener, to send to one Mr. Wasteall, to tell
him his first Mortgage was out, which is two hundred pounds a
Year--and who has since engaged five or six hundred more to my
Master; but if this first be not redeem'd, he'll take the Forfeit
on't, as he says a wise Man ought. Mr. Crap, being busy with
a borrowing Lord, sent me to Mr. Wasteall, whose Lodging is in
a nasty Place called Alsatia, at a Black-Smith's. Well, Madam,
this Wasteall was Mr. Gayman! He's driven
to the last degree of Poverty--Had you but seen his Lodgings,
Madam! I went to the Black-Smith's, and at the door, I encountered
the beastly thing he calls a Landlady; who looked as if she had
been of her own Husband's making, compose'd of moulded Smith's
Dust. I ask'd for Mr. Wasteall, and she began to open--and
so did rail at him, that what with her Billinsgate, and
her Husband's hammers, I was both deaf and dumb--at last the
hammers ceas'd, and she grew weary, and call'd down Mr. Wasteall;
but he not answering--I was sent up a Ladder rather than a pair
of Stairs; at last I scal'd the top, and enter'd the enchanted
Castle; there did I find him, spite of the noise below, drowning
his Cares in Sleep. He waked--and seeing me, Heavens, what Confusion
seiz'd him! which nothing but my own Surprise could equal. Asham'd--he
wou'd have turn'd away; but when he saw, by my dejected Eyes,
I knew him, He sigh'd, and blushed, and heard me tell my Business:
Then beg'd I wou'd be secret; for he vow'd his whole Repose and
Life depended on my silence. Nor had I told it now, But that
your Ladyship may find some speedy means to draw him from this
desperate Condition.
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MONOLOGUES BY APHRA BEHN |
