Aphra Behn

The Younger Brother Aphra Behn

Mirtilla, the Amorous Jilt, who had once been attached to George Marteen, the Younger Brother, married for a convenience the clownish Sir Morgan Blunder. Prince Frederick, who had seen and fallen in love with her during a religious ceremony in a Ghent convent, follows her to England. They meet accidentally and she promises him a private interview. George Marteen had recommended a page to Mirtilla, and the lad is his sister Olivia in disguise. Mirtilla, although she falls in love with her 'smooth-chin'd boy', receives Prince Frederick, but the house wherein she lodges catches fire that night, and it is George Marteen who, in spite of the fact that he knows his friend the Prince is with her, procures a ladder and rescues the lady at some danger to himself. Geo. Were you with Mrs. Manage, Britton?Britt. Yes, Sir; and she cries as much for her wanting room for you in her House, as she would have done some forty Years ago for a Disappointment of her Lover. But she assures me, the Lodging she has taken for you, is the best in all Lincolns-Inn-Fields. Geo. And did you charge her to send Mirtilla's Page to me? Britt. I did, Sir; and he'll be with you instantly. Geo. 'Tis well-Then shall I hear some News of my Mirtilla. [Aside. Britton, haste thee, and get my Equipage in order; a handsome Coach, rich Liveries, and more Footmen: for 'tis Appearance only passes in the World-And d'ye hear, take care none know me by any other Name than that of Lejere. Britt. I shall, Sir. [Exit. Geo. I came not from Paris into England, as my old Father thinks, to reform into a dull wretched Life in Wales. No, I'll rather trust my kind Mistress Fortune, that has still kept me like her Darling, than purchase a younger Brother's narrow Stipend, at the expence of my Pleasure and Happiness. Enter _Olivia_ in a Page's Habit. She runs and embraces _George_. Oliv. My ever charming Brother!Geo. My best, my dear Olivia!Oliv. The same lovely Man still! Thy Gallantry and Beauty's all thy own; Paris could add no Graces to thy Air; nor yet pervert it into Affectation. Geo. Spare me, and tell me how Mirtilla fares. Oliv. I think, Brother, I writ you word to Paris, of a Marriage concluded betwixt me and Welborn?Geo. That Letter I receiv'd: but from the dear Mirtilla, not one soft word; not one tender Line has blest my Eyes, has eas'd my panting Heart this tedious three Months space; and thou with whom I left the weighty Charge of her dear Heart, to watch her lovely Eyes, to give me notice when my Rivals press'd, and when she waver'd in her Faith to me, even thou wert silent to me, cruel Sister. Oliv. Thou wilt be like a Lover presently, and tire the Hearer with a Book of Words, of heavy Sighs, dying Languishments, and all that huddle of Nonsense; and not tell me how you like my Marriage. Geo. Welborn's my Friend, and worthy of thy Heart. Oliv. I never saw him yet; and to be sold unseen, and unsigh'd for, in the Flower of my Youth and Beauty, gives me a strange aversion to the Match. Geo. Oh! you'll like him when you see him-But my Mirtilla.-Oliv. Like him-no, no, I never shall-what, come a Stranger to my Husband's Bed? 'Tis Prostitution in the leudest manner, without the Satisfaction; the Pleasure of Variety, and the Bait of Profit, may make a lame excuse for Whores, who change their Cullies, and quit their nauseous Fools-No, no, my Brother, when Parents grow arbitrary, 'tis time we look into our Rights and Privileges; therefore, my dear George, if e'er thou hope for Happiness in Love, assist my Disobedience.