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52 WILLIAM CONGREVE [ACT II
Bell. Speaks miracles, is the drum to his own praise—
the only implement of a soldier he resembles; like that,
being full of blustering noise and emptiness.
Sharp. And like that, of no use but to be beaten.
Bell. Right; but then the comparison breaks, for he will
take a drubbing with as little noise as a pulpit-cushion.
Sharp. His name, and I have done?
Bell. Why, that, to pass it current too, he has gilded with
a title: he is called Captain Bluffe.
Sharp. Well, I'll endeavour his acquaintance; you steer
another course, are bound
For Love's fair isle; I for the golden coast:
May each succeed in what he wishes most! [Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND
SCENE I
The Street
Enter Sir JOSEPH WITTDL, SHARPER following.
SHARP. \Aside.] Sure that's he, and alone.
Sir Jo. \Not perceiving SHARPER.] Um—ay, this, this is
the very damned place; the inhuman cannibals, the bloodyminded
villains would have butchered me last night: no
doubt they would have flayed me alive, have sold my
skin, and devoured, &c.
Sharp. How's this?
Sir Jo. An it hadn't been for a civil gentleman as came
by and frighted 'em away—but, egad, I durst not stay to
give him thanks.
Sharp. This must be Bellmour he means.—Ha! I have a
thought—
Sir Jo. Zooks, would the captain would come! the very
remembrance makes me quake;-egad, I shall never be reconciled
to this place heartily.
Sharp. 'Tis but trying, and being where I am at worst.
Now luck!—[Aloud.] Cursed fortune! this must be the
place, this damned unlucky place!
Sir Jo. [Aside.] Egad, and so it is. Why, here has been
more mischief done, I perceive.