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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51113 ***</div>

<div class="tnotes covernote">
  <p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p>
</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 409px;">
<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="409" height="700" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
<div id="titlepage">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h1>PLAYS,</h1>


<p>WRITTEN BY</p>

<p class="xlarge">Sir <span class="smcap">John Vanbrugh</span>.</p>

<p class="large">IN TWO VOLUMES.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Volume</span> the <span class="smcap">First</span>.</p>

<p>CONTAINING,
</p>


<ul><li><a href="#THE">The <span class="smcap">Relapse</span>; Or, <span class="smcap">Virtue</span> in <span class="smcap">Danger</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#THE3">The <span class="smcap">Provok'd Wife</span>, with a new Scene.</a></li>

<li><a href="#ESOP4"><span class="smcap">Æsop</span>, in two <span class="smcap">Parts</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#THE5">The <span class="smcap">False Friend</span>.</a></li>
</ul>

<hr class="tb" />

<p>LONDON:</p>

<p class="small">Printed for <span class="smcap">J. Rivington</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Longman</span>,
<span class="smcap">T. Lowndes</span>, <span class="smcap">S. Caslon</span>, <span class="smcap">C. Corbett</span>,
<span class="smcap">S. Bladon</span>, <span class="smcap">W. Nicoll</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Evans</span>,
and <span class="smcap">M. Waller</span>.</p>

<p class="small">MDCCLXXVI.
</p>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a><br /><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h2><a name="AN" id="AN">AN</a><br />

ACCOUNT<br />

OF THE<br />

LIFE and WRITINGS<br />

OF THE<br />

AUTHOR.</h2>


<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Sir</span> <em>John Vanbrugh</em>, an eminent dramatic
Writer, Son of Mr. <em>Giles Vanbrugh</em>, of
<em>London</em>, Merchant, was born in the Parish of
<em>St. Stephen</em>'s, <em>Wallbrook</em>, in 1666. The Family
of <em>Vanbrugh</em> were for many Years Merchants
of great Credit and Reputation, at
<em>Antwerp</em>, and came into <em>England</em> in the reign
of Queen <em>Elizabeth</em>, on account of the Persecution
for Religion.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John</em> received a very liberal Education,
and at the Age of nineteen, was sent by his
Father to <em>France</em>, where he continued some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
Years: He became very eminent for his
Poetry, to which he discovered an early propension.
And, pity it is, that this agreeable
Writer had not discovered his Wit, without
any Mixture of that Licentiousness, which,
tho' it pleased, tended to corrupt the Audience.</p>

<p><cite>The Relapse</cite> was the first Play our Author
produced, but not the first he had written;
for he had at that Time by him, all the Scenes
of <cite>The Provok'd Wife</cite>; but being then doubtful
whether he should ever trust it to the
Stage, he flung it by, and thought no more
of it: Why the last written Play was first acted,
and for what Reason they were given to different
Stages, what follows will explain.</p>

<p>Upon our Author's first Step into public
Life, when he was but an Ensign in the
Army, and had a Heart greatly above his
Income, he happened somewhere at his Winter
Quarters, upon a slender Acquaintance
with Sir <em>Thomas Skipwith</em>, to receive a particular
Obligation from him; and many Years
afterwards, when Sir <em>Thomas</em>'s Interest in a
Theatrical Patent (which he had a large
Share in, though he little concerned himself
in the Conduct of it) was rising but very
slowly, Sir <em>John</em> thought that to give it a lift
by a new Comedy, might be the handsomest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
Return he could make to those his former
Favours; accordingly he soon after finished
<cite>The Relapse, or, Virtue in Danger</cite>, which was
acted at the Theatre in <em>Drury-Lane</em>, in 1696,
with universal Applause.</p>

<p>Upon the Success of <cite>The Relapse</cite>, the late
Lord <em>Hallifax</em>, who was a favourer of <em>Betterton</em>'s
Company, having formerly heard
some Scenes of <cite>The Provok'd Wife</cite> read to him,
engaged Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em> to revise it, and
give it to that Company. This was a Request
not to be refused to so eminent a Patron
of the Muses as Lord <em>Hallifax</em>, who was
equally a Friend and Admirer of Sir <em>John</em>
himself; nor was Sir <em>Thomas Skipwith</em> in the
least disobliged by so reasonable a Compliance.
<cite>The Provok'd Wife</cite> was accordingly
acted at the Theatre in <em>Lincoln's Inn-Fields</em> in
1697, with great Success.</p>

<p>Tho' this Play met with so favourable a
Reception, yet it was not without its Enemies:
People of the graver Sort blamed the
looseness of the Scenes, and the unguarded
freedom of the Dialect; and indeed Sir <em>John</em>
himself appears to have been sensible of the
immorality of his Scenes; for in the Year
1725, when this Play was revived, he thought
proper to substitute a new Scene in the fourth
Act, in place of another, in which, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
wantonness of his Wit, he had made a Rake
talk like a Rake, in the Habit of a Clergyman;
to avoid which Offence, he put the
same Debauchee into the Undress of a Woman
of Quality; by which means the Follies
he exposed in the Petticoat, appeared to the
Audience innocent and entertaining; which
new Scene is now for the first Time printed
at the End of the Play.</p>

<p>Soon after the Success of <cite>The Provok'd Wife</cite>,
Sir <em>John</em> produced the Comedy of <cite>Esop</cite>, in
two Parts, which was acted at the Theatre-Royal
in <em>Drury Lane</em>, in 1697. This was
originally written in <em>French</em> by Mr. <em>Boursaut</em>,
about six Years before; but the Scenes of Sir
<em>Polydorus Hogstye</em>, the Players, and the Beau,
were added by our Author. This Play contains
a great deal of general Satire, and useful
Morality; notwithstanding which, it met
with but a cold Reception from the Audience,
and its run ended in about nine Days.
This seemed the more surprizing, as the
<em>French</em> Comedy was played to crowded Audiences
for a Month together. The little Success
this Piece met with on the <em>English</em> Stage,
cannot be better accounted for than in the
Words of Mr. <em>Cibber</em>, who, speaking of this
Play, makes the following Observation:
"The Character that delivers Precepts of
Wisdom, is in some sort severe upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
Auditor, for shewing him one wiser than
himself; but when Folly is his Object, he
applauds himself for being wiser than the
Coxcomb he laughs at; and who is not
more pleased with an Occasion to commend,
than to accuse himself?"</p>

<p>The next Play our Author wrote, was <cite>The
False Friend</cite>, a Comedy, which was acted at
the Theatre-Royal in <em>Drury Lane</em>, in 1702.</p>

<p>In 1703, Sir <em>John</em> formed a Project of
building a stately Theatre in the <em>Haymarket</em>,
for which he had interest enough to get a
Subscription of thirty Persons of Quality, at
one hundred Pounds each, in consideration
whereof, every Subscriber was for his own
Life to be admitted to whatever Entertainments
should be publicly performed there,
without any farther Payment for Entrance.</p>

<p>In 1706, when this House was finished,
Mr. <em>Betterton</em> and his Co-partners, who then
acted at the Theatre in <em>Lincoln's Inn-Fields</em>,
dissolved their Agreement, and put themselves
under the direction of Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em>
and Mr. <em>Congreve</em>, imagining, perhaps,
that the Conduct of two such eminent Authors
might give a more prosperous turn to
their Affairs; that the Plays it would now be
their interest to write for them, would soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
recover the Town to a true Taste, and be an
Advantage that no other Company could
hope for; and that till such Plays could be
written, the Grandeur of their House, as it
was a new spectacle, might allure the Crowd
to support them: But, if these were their
Views, they soon found their Dependance
upon them was too sanguine; for though Sir
<em>John</em> was a very expeditious Writer, yet Mr.
<em>Congreve</em> was too judicious to let any Thing
come unfinished from his Pen. Besides, every
proper Convenience of a good Theatre had
been sacrificed to shew the Audience a vast
triumphal Piece of Architecture, in which,
by Means of the spaciousness of the Dome,
plays could not be successfully represented,
because the Actors could not be distinctly
heard.</p>

<p>Not long before this Time, the <em>Italian</em>
Opera began to steal into <em>England</em>, but in as
rude a Disguise as possible: notwithstanding
which, the new Monster pleased, though it
had neither Grace, Melody, nor Action, to
recommend it. To strike in therefore with
the prevailing Fashion, Sir <em>John</em> and Mr.
<em>Congreve</em> opened their New Theatre with a
translated Opera, set to <em>Italian</em> Music, called
<cite>The Triumph of Love</cite>; but it met with a very
cool Reception, being performed only three
Times&mdash;to thin Houses.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9a" id="Page_9a">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>

<p>Immediately upon the Failure of this Opera,
Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em> brought on his Comedy,
called <cite>The Confederacy</cite>, taken, but very greatly
improved, from <cite>Les Bourgeoises à la Mode</cite>, of
Monsieur <em>D'Ancourt</em>. The Success of this
Play was not equal to its Merit; for it is
written with an uncommon Vein of Wit and
Humour; which plainly shews that the difficulty
of hearing, distinctly, in that large
Theatre, was no small Impediment to the
Applause that might have followed the same
Actors on any other Stage; and indeed every
Play acted there before the House was altered,
seemed to suffer greatly from the same
Inconvenience; for what few could plainly
hear, it was not likely many could applaud.
In a Word, the Prospect of Profits from this
Theatre was so very barren, that Mr. <em>Congreve</em>,
in a few Months, gave up his Share in
it wholly to Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em>; who, as he
had a happier Talent of throwing the <em>English</em>
Spirit into his Translations, than any
other Author who had borrowed from them,
he in the same Season produced <cite>The Mistake</cite>,
a Comedy, taken from <cite>Le D'epit Amoureux</cite>,
of <em>Moliere</em>; and <cite>The Country House</cite>, a Farce,
translated from <em>The French</em>, which has been
acted at all the Theatres with general Applause.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10a" id="Page_10a">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>John</em> soon afterwards, thoroughly tired
of Theatrical Affairs, determined to get rid
of his Patent on the best Terms he could;
he accordingly made an Offer to Mr. <em>Owen
Swiney</em> of his House, Clothes, and Scenes,
with the Queen's Licence to employ them,
upon Payment of the Rent of five Pounds
upon every acting Day, and not to exceed
700 <em>l.</em> in the Year; with which Proposal Mr.
<em>Swiney</em> soon complied, and managed that
Stage for some Time after.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John</em> is not a little to be admired for
his Spirit, and readiness in producing Plays
so fast upon the Neck of one another; for,
notwithstanding his quick Dispatch, there is
a clear and lively Simplicity in his Wit, that
neither wants the Ornaments of Learning,
nor has the least Smell of the Lamp, as the
Face of a fine Woman, with her Locks
loose about her, may then be in its greatest
Beauty; such were his Productions, only
adorned by Nature. And there is, besides,
something so catching to the Ear, and so
easy to the Memory, in all he writ, that it
has been observed by all the Actors of those
Times, the Stile of no Author whatsoever
gave their Memory less Trouble, than that of
Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em>. And indeed his Wit
and Humour was so little laboured, that his
most entertaining Scenes seem to be no more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11a" id="Page_11a">[Pg 11]</a></span>
than his common Conversation committed
to Paper. As his Conceptions were so full
of Life and Humour, it is not much to be
wondered at, if his Muse should be sometimes
too warm to wait the slow Pace of
Judgment, or to endure the Drudgery of
forming a regular Fable to them.</p>

<p>Besides the Plays already mentioned, Sir
<em>John</em> left behind him Part of a Comedy,
called <cite>A Journey to London</cite>, which has since
been made an entire Play of by Mr. <em>Cibber</em>,
and called <cite>The Provoked Husband</cite>, and was
acted at the Theatre-Royal, in <em>Drury Lane</em>,
in 1727, for twenty-eight Nights successively,
with universal Applause.</p>

<p>In 1703, he was appointed Clarencieux
King of Arms, and in 1706 was commissioned
by Queen <em>Anne</em> to carry the Habit
and Ensigns of the Order of the Garter to
King <em>George</em> the First, then at <em>Hanover</em>; he
was likewise Comptroller-General of the
Board of Works, and Surveyor of the Gardens
and Waters. In the Year 1714, he
received the Order of Knighthood; and in
1719 he married <em>Henrietta Maria</em>, Daughter
of Colonel <em>Yarborough</em>, of <em>Haslington</em>, near
<em>York</em>, by whom he had three Children;
<em>Charles</em> the eldest was killed at the Battle of
<em>Fontenoy</em>, the other two died young.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12a" id="Page_12a">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>John</em> died at his House in <em>Scotland-Yard</em>,
the 26th of <em>March</em>, 1726, and is interred
in the Family Vault, under the Church
of <em>St. Stephen</em>'s, <em>Wallbrook</em>.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-014.jpg" width="700" height="640" alt="" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-015.jpg" width="700" height="72" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE" id="THE">THE</a><br />

RELAPSE:<br />

OR,<br />

VIRTUE in DANGER:<br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<p class="directcenter">Being the Sequel of <cite>The Fool in Fashion</cite>.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-015.jpg" width="700" height="72" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a><br /><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-017.jpg" width="700" height="85" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="THE2" id="THE2">THE</a><br />

PREFACE.</h3>


<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">To</span> go about to excuse half the Defects this
abortive Brat is come into the World with,
would be to provoke the Town with a long
useless Preface, when it is, I doubt, sufficiently
soured already by a tedious Play.</p>

<p>I do therefore (with all the Humility of a repenting
Sinner) confess, it wants every thing&mdash;&mdash;but
length; and in that, I hope, the severest Critick
will be pleas'd to acknowledge I have not been
wanting. But my Modesty will sure atone for
every thing, when the World shall know it is so
great, I am even to this Day insensible of those two
shining Graces in the Play (which some part of the
Town is pleas'd to compliment me with) Blasphemy
and Bawdy.</p>

<p>For my part, I cannot find them out: If there
were any obscene Expressions upon the Stage, here
they are in the Print; for I have dealt fairly, I
have not sunk a Syllable, that cou'd (though by
racking of Mysteries) be rang'd under that Head;
and yet I believe with a steady Faith, there is not
one Woman of a real Reputation in Town, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span>
when she has read it impartially over in her Closet,
will find it so innocent, she will think it no Affront
to her Prayer-Book, to lay it upon the same Shelf.
So to them (with all manner of Deference) I entirely
refer my cause; and I am confident they
will justify me against those Pretenders to Good-manners,
who at the same time have so little
Respect for the Ladies, they wou'd extract a bawdy
Jest from an Ejaculation, to put them out of
countenance. But I expect to have these well-bred
Persons always my Enemies, since I am sure I shall
never write any thing lewd enough to make them
my Friends.</p>

<p>As for the Saints (your thorough-pac'd ones, I
mean, with skrew'd Faces and wry Mouths) I
despair of them; for they are Friends to nobody:
They love nothing but their Altars and themselves;
they have too much Zeal to have any Charity;
they make Debauches in Piety, as Sinners do in
Wine; and are as quarrelsome in their Religion,
as other People are in their Drink: so I hope nobody
will mind what they say. But if any Man
(with flat plod Shoes, a little Band, greasy Hair,
and a dirty Face, who is wiser than I, at the Expence
of being forty Years older), happens to be
offended at a Story of a Cock and a Bull, and a
Priest and a Bull-dog, I beg his pardon with all
my Heart; which, I hope, I shall obtain, by
eating my Words, and making this publick Recantation.
I do therefore, for his Satisfaction, acknowledge
I lyed, when I said, they never quit
their hold; for in that little time I have liv'd in the
World, I thank God I have seen them forc'd to it
more than once; but next time I will speak with
more Caution and Truth, and only say, they have
very good Teeth.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>

<p>If I have offended any honest Gentleman of the
Town, whose Friendship or good Word is worth
the having, I am very sorry for it; I hope they will
correct me as gently as they can, when they consider
I have had no other Design, in running a
very great Risk, than to divert (if possible) some
part of their Spleen, in spite of their Wives and
their Taxes.</p>

<p>One Word more about the Bawdy, and I have
done. I own the first Night this thing was acted,
some Indecencies had like to have happened; but
it was not my Fault.</p>

<p>The fine Gentleman of the Play, drinking his
Mistress's Health in <em>Nants</em> Brandy, from six in the
Morning to the time he waddled on upon the Stage
in the Evening, had toasted himself up to such a
pitch of Vigour, I confess I once gave <em>Amanda</em> for
gone, and am since (with all due respect to Mrs.
<em>Rogers</em>) very sorry she escaped; for I am confident
a certain Lady (let no one take it to herself that is
handsome) who highly blames the Play, for the
Barrenness of the Conclusion, would then have allowed
it a very natural Close.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-020.jpg" width="700" height="75" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE2" id="PROLOGUE2">PROLOGUE.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by <em>Miss</em> <span class="smcap">Cross</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">L</span>adies</span>, this Play in too much haste was writ,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To be o'ercharg'd with either Plot or Wit;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Twas got, conceiv'd, and born in six Weeks Space,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And Wit, you know, 's as slow in Growth&mdash;&mdash;as Grace.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Sure it can ne'er be ripen'd to your Taste;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I doubt 'twill prove our Author bred too fast:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For mark 'em well, who with the Muses marry,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They rarely do conceive, but they miscarry.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis the hard Fate of those who are big with Rhyme,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Still to be brought-to-bed before their Time.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of our late Poets, Nature few has made;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The greatest part&mdash;&mdash;are only so by Trade.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Still want of something brings the scribbling Fit;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For want of Money some of 'em have writ,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And others do't, you see&mdash;for want of Wit.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Honour, they fancy, summons 'em to write,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So out they lug in resty Nature's spight,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As some of you spruce Beaux do&mdash;when you fight.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet let the Ebb of Wit be ne'er so low,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some Glimpse of it a Man may hope to show,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Upon a Theme so ample&mdash;&mdash;as a <span class="antiqua">Beau</span>.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So, howsoe'er true Courage may decay,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Perhaps there's not one Smock-Face here to-day,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But's bold as <span class="antiqua">Cæsar</span>&mdash;to attack a Play.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nay, what's yet more, with an undaunted Face,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To do the Thing with more heroick Grace,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis six to four y' attack the strongest Place.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You are such Hotspurs in this kind of Venture,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where there's no Breach, just there you needs must enter.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But be advis'd&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>E'en give the Hero and the Critique o'er,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For Nature sent you on another score;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She formed her <span class="antiqua">Beau</span>, for nothing but her Whore.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-021.jpg" width="700" height="456" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae2" id="Dramatis_Personae2">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Novelty Fashion</em>, newly created Lord <em>Foppington</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Cibber</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Young <em>Fashion</em>, his Brother,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Kent</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Loveless</em>, Husband to <em>Amanda</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Verbruggen</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Worthy</em>, a Gentleman of the Town,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Powel</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Tunbelly Clumsey</em>, a Country Gentleman,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bullock</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>John Friendly</em>, his Neighbour,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Mills</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Coupler</em>, a Matchmaker,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Johnson</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Bull</em>, Chaplain to Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Simpson</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Syringe</em>, a Surgeon,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Haynes</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Lory</em>, Servant to Young <em>Fashion</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Dogget</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Shoemaker, Taylor, Perriwig-maker, </td>
    <td>&amp;c.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Amanda</em>, Wife to <em>Loveless</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Rogers</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Berinthia</em>, her Cousin, a young Widow,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Verbruggen</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Miss <em>Hoyden</em>, a great Fortune, Daughter to Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Cross</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr><td align="left">Nurse, her Governant,</td><td align="left">Mrs. <em>Powel</em>.</td></tr>
</table></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
<img src="images/bar-023a.jpg" width="700" height="158" alt="" />
</div>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
RELAPSE;<br />
OR,<br />
VIRTUE in DANGER.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-023b.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I2" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span>, reading.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>ow</span> true is that Philosophy which says<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our Heaven is seated in our Minds!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through all the roving Pleasures of my Youth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">(Where Nights and Days seem all consum'd in Joy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where the false Face of Luxury<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Display'd such Charms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As might have shaken the most holy Hermit,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And made him totter at his Altar)<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I never knew one Moment's Peace like this.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here&mdash;in this little soft Retreat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My thoughts unbent from all the Cares of Life,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Content with Fortune,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Eas'd from the grating Duties of Dependence,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
<span class="i0">From Envy free, Ambition under foot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The raging Flame of wild destructive Lust<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Reduc'd to a warm pleasing Fire of lawful Love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Life glides on, and all is well within.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lov. <em>meeting her kindly.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">How does the happy Cause of my Content, my dear <em>Amanda</em>?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You find me musing on my happy State,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And full of grateful Thoughts to Heaven, and you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Those grateful Offerings Heaven can't receive<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With more Delight than I do:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Would I cou'd share with it as well<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Dispensations of its Bliss,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That I might search its choicest Favours out,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And shower 'em on your Head for ever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> The largest Boons that Heaven thinks fit to grant<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To Things it has decreed shall crawl on Earth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are in the Gift of Woman form'd like you.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perhaps when Time shall be no more,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When the aspiring Soul shall take its Flight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And drop this pond'rous Lump of Clay behind it,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It may have Appetites we know not of,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Pleasures as refin'd as its Desires&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But till that Day of Knowledge shall instruct me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The utmost Blessing that my Thought can reach,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">[<em>Taking her in his Arms.</em>] Is folded in my Arms, and rooted in my Heart.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> There let it grow for ever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Well said, <em>Amanda</em>&mdash;let it be for ever.&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wou'd Heaven grant that&mdash;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> 'Twere all the Heaven I'd ask.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But we are clad in black Mortality,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And the dark Curtain of eternal Night<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At last must drop between us.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> It must: that mournful Separation we must see.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A bitter Pill it is to all; but doubles its ungrateful Taste,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When Lovers are to swallow it;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Perhaps that Pain may only be my Lot,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You possibly may be exempted from it;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
<span class="i0">Men find out softer ways to quench their Fires.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Can you then doubt my Constancy, <em>Amanda</em>?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll find 'tis built upon a steady Basis&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Rock of Reason now supports my Love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On which it stands so fix'd,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The rudest Hurricane of wild Desire<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wou'd, like the Breath of a soft slumbering Babe,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pass by, and never shake it.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Yet still 'tis safer to avoid the Storm;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The strongest Vessels, if they put to Sea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May possibly be lost.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wou'd I cou'd keep you here in this calm Port for ever!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Forgive the Weakness of a Woman,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am uneasy at your going to stay so long in Town;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know its false insinuating Pleasures;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know the Force of its Delusions;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know the Strength of its Attacks;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know the weak Defence of Nature;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know you are a Man&mdash;and I&mdash;a Wife.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> You know then all that needs to give you Rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For Wife's the strongest Claim that you can urge.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When you would plead your Title to my Heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On this you may depend; therefore be calm,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Banish your Fears, for they are Traitors to your Peace:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beware of them, they are insinuating busy Things<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That gossip to and fro, and do a World of Mischief<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where they come: But you shall soon be Mistress of 'em all,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll aid you with such Arms for their Destruction,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They never shall erect their Heads again.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You know the Business is indispensible, that obliges<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Me to go to <em>London</em>, and you have no Reason, that I<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Know of, to believe that I'm glad of the Occasion:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For my honest Conscience is my Witness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have found a due Succession of such Charms<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In my Retirement here with you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have never thrown one roving Thought that way;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But since, against my Will, I'm dragg'd once more<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To that uneasy Theatre of Noise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am resolv'd to make such use on't,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
<span class="i0">As shall convince you 'tis an old cast Mistress,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who has been so lavish of her Favours,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She's now grown Bankrupt of her Charms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And has not one Allurement left to move me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Her Bow, I do believe, is grown so weak,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her Arrows (at this distance) cannot hurt you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But in approaching 'em you give 'em Strength:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Dart that has not far to fly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will put the best of Armour to a dangerous Trial.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> That Trial past, and y'are at ease for ever;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When you have seen the Helmet prov'd,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll apprehend no more for him that wears it:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Therefore to put a lasting Period to your Fears,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am resolv'd, this once, to launch into Temptation.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll give you an Essay of all my Virtues;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My former boon Companions of the Bottle<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall fairly try what Charms are left in Wine:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll take my Place amongst them,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They shall hem me in,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sing Praises to their God, and drink his Glory;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Turn wild Enthusiasts for his sake,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Beasts to do him Honour:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whilst I, a stubborn Atheist,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sullenly look on,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without one reverend Glass to his Divinity.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That for my Temperance,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then for my Constancy&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Ay, there take heed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Indeed the Danger's small.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> And yet my Fears are great.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Why are you so timorous?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Because you are so bold.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> My Courage should disperse your Apprehensions.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> My Apprehensions should alarm your Courage.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Fy, fy, <em>Amanda</em>, it is not kind thus to distrust me.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> And yet my Fears are founded on my Love.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> For if you can believe 'tis possible<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shou'd again relapse to my past Follies,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I must appear to you a thing<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
<span class="i0">Of such an undigested Composition,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That but to think of me with Inclination,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wou'd be a Weakness in your Taste,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your Virtue scarce cou'd answer.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> 'Twou'd be a Weakness in my Tongue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Prudence cou'd not answer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If I shou'd press you farther with my Fears;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll therefore trouble you no longer with 'em.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lov.</em> Nor shall they trouble you much longer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A little time shall shew you they were groundless;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This Winter shall be the fiery Trial of my Virtue;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which, when it once has past,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll be convinc'd 'twas of no false Allay,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There all your Cares will end&mdash;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Aman.</em> Pray Heaven they may!<br /></span>
</div></div>


<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Hand in Hand.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Whitehall.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>, <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Waterman</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Come, pay the Waterman, and take the Pormanteau.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Faith, Sir, I think the Waterman had as good
take the Portmanteau, and pay himself.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why sure there's something left in't.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> But a solitary old Waistcoat, upon my Honour,
Sir.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, what's become of the blue Coat,
Sirrah?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Sir, 'twas eaten at <em>Gravesend</em>; the Reckoning
came to thirty Shillings, and your Privy-Purse was
worth but two Half-Crowns.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Tis very well.</p>

<p><em>Wat.</em> Pray, Master, will you please to dispatch me?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Ay, here a&mdash;&mdash;Canst thou change me a
Guinea?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Good.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Wat.</em> Change a Guinea, Master! Ha, ha, your Honour's
pleas'd to compliment.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'gad I don't know how I shall pay thee
then, for I have nothing but Gold about me.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;Hum, hum.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> What dost thou expect, Friend?</p>

<p><em>Wat.</em> Why, Master, so far against Wind and Tide,
is richly worth half a Piece.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, faith, I think thou art a good conscionable
Fellow. I'gad, I begin to have so good an
Opinion of thy Honesty, I care not if I leave my Portmanteau
with thee, till I send thee thy Money.</p>

<p><em>Wat.</em> Ha! God bless your Honour; I should be as
willing to trust you, Master, but that you are, as a
Man may say, a Stranger to me, and these are nimble
Times; there are a great many Sharpers stirring. [<em>Taking
up the Portmanteau.</em>] Well, Master, when your Worship
sends the Money, your Portmanteau shall be forthcoming.
My Name's <em>Tugg</em>, my Wife keeps a Brandy-Shop
in <em>Drab-Ally</em> at <em>Wapping</em>.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Very well; I'll send for't to-morrow.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Wat.</em></p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> So&mdash;Now, Sir, I hope you'll own yourself a
happy Man, you have outliv'd all your Cares.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> How so, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Why you have nothing left to take care of.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Yes, Sirrah, I have myself and you to
take care of still.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Sir, if you cou'd but prevail with somebody else
to do that for you, I fancy we might both fare the better
for't.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, if thou canst tell me where to apply
myself, I have at present so little Money, and so much
Humility about me, I don't know but I may follow a
Fool's Advice.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Why then, Sir, your Fool advises you to lay aside
all Animosity, and apply to Sir <em>Novelty</em>, your elder Brother.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Damn my elder Brother.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> With all my heart; but get him to redeem your
Annuity, however.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> My Annuity! 'Sdeath, he's such a Dog,
he would not give his Powder-Puff to redeem my Soul.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Look you, Sir, you must wheedle him, or you
must starve.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Look you, Sir, I will neither wheedle
him, nor starve.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Why? what will you do then?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'll go into the Army.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> You can't take the Oaths; you are a Jacobite.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Thou may'st as well say I can't take Orders
because I'm an Atheist.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Sir, I ask your Pardon; I find I did not know
the Strength of your Conscience, so well as I did the
Weakness of your Purse.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Methinks, Sir, a Person of your Experience
should have known, that the Strength of the Conscience
proceeds from the Weakness of the Purse.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Sir, I am very glad to find you have a Conscience
able to take care of us, let it proceed from what it will;
but I desire you'll please to consider, that the Army
alone will be but a scanty Maintenance for a Person of
your Generosity (at least as Rents now are paid); I shall
see you stand in damnable need of some auxiliary Guineas
for your <em>menu Plaisirs</em>; I will therefore turn Fool
once more for your Service, and advise you to go directly
to your Brother.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Art thou then so impregnable a Blockhead,
to believe he'll help me with a Farthing?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Not if you treat him, <em>de haut en bas</em>, as you
use to do.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, how would'st have me treat him?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Like a Trout, tickle him.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I can't flatter&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Can you starve?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Yes&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> I can't; Good-by t'ye, Sir&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Stay, thou wilt distract me. What
would'st thou have me to say to him?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Say nothing to him, apply yourself to his Favourites;
speak to his Perriwig, his Cravat, his Feather,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
his Snuff-box, and when you are well with them&mdash;&mdash;desire
him to lend you a Thousand Pounds. I'll engage
you prosper.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Sdeath and Furies! Why was that
Coxcomb thrust into the World before me? O Fortune&mdash;Fortune&mdash;thou
art a Bitch, by Gad&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Dressing-Room</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span> in his Night-Gown.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">P</span>age</span>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Enter Page.</em></p>

<p><em>Page.</em> Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir! Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to teach
your Tongue the Title the King has thought fit to honour
me with.</p>

<p><em>Page.</em> I ask your Lordship's Pardon, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> O, you can pronounce the Word then&mdash;&mdash;I
thought it would have choak'd you&mdash;&mdash;D'ye hear?</p>

<p><em>Page.</em> My Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Call La Varole, I wou'd dress&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Page.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Solus.</em></p>

<p>Well, 'tis an unspeakable Pleasure to be a Man of Quality&mdash;&mdash;Strike
me dumb&mdash;&mdash;My Lord&mdash;&mdash;Your Lordship&mdash;&mdash;My
Lord <em>Foppington</em>&mdash;<em>Ah! c'est quelque chose
de beau, que le Diable m'emporte</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Why the Ladies were ready to puke at me, whilst I
had nothing but Sir <em>Novelty</em> to recommend me to
'em&mdash;&mdash;Sure whilst I was but a Knight, I was a very
nauseous Fellow&mdash;&mdash;Well, 'tis Ten Thousand Pawnd
well given&mdash;&mdash;stap my Vitals&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">La Varole</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Me Lord, de Shoemaker, de Taylor, de Hosier, de
Sempstress, de Peru, be all ready, if your Lordship
please to dress.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> 'Tis well, admit 'em.</p>

<p><em>La Var.</em> Hey, Messieurs, entrez.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Taylor</span>, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span></em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> So, Gentlemen, I hope you have all taken
pains to shew yourselves Masters in your Professions.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> I think I may presume to say, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>La Var.</em> My Lord&mdash;&mdash;you Clawn you.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> Why, is he made a Lord?&mdash;&mdash;My Lord, I ask
your Lordship's Pardon; my Lord, I hope, my Lord,
your Lordship will please to own, I have brought your
Lordship as accomplish'd a Suit of Clothes, as ever Peer
of <em>England</em> trode the Stage in, my Lord: Will your
Lordship please to try 'em now?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ay, but let my People dispose the Glasses
so, that I may see myself before and behind; for I love
to see myself all raund&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Whilst he puts on his Clothes, enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>
and <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Hey-dey, what the Devil have we here?
Sure my Gentleman's grown a Favourite at Court, he
has got so many People at his Levee.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir, these People come in order to make him a
Favourite at Court, they are to establish him with the
Ladies.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Good God! to what an Ebb of Taste
are Women fallen, that it shou'd be in the power of a
lac'd Coat to recommend a Gallant to 'em&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir, Taylors and Perriwig-makers are now become
the Bawds of the Nation, 'tis they debauch all the
Women.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Thou sayest true; for there's that Fop
now, has not by Nature wherewithal to move a Cook-maid,
and by that time these Fellows have done with
him, I'gad he shall melt down a Countess&mdash;&mdash;But now
for my Reception, I engage it shall be as cold a one, as
a Courtier's to his Friend, who comes to put him in
mind of his Promise.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <em>to his Taylor.</em>] Death and eternal Tartures!
Sir, I say the Packet's too high by a Foot.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> My Lord, if it had been an Inch lower, it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
not have held your Lordship's Pocket-Handkerchief.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Rat my Packet-Handkerchief! Have not
I a Page to carry it? You may make him a Packet up to
his Chin a purpose for it; but I will not have mine
come so near my Face.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> 'Tis not for me to dispute your Lordship's Fancy.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash. to Lory.</em>] His Lordship! <em>Lory</em>, did you observe
that?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Yes, Sir; I always thought 'twould end there.
Now, I hope, you'll have a little more Respect for him.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Respect! Damn him for a Coxcomb;
now has he ruin'd his Estate to buy a Title, that he
may be a Fool of the first Rate: But let's accost him&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>To Lord Fop.</em>] Brother, I'm your Humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> O Lard, <em>Tam</em>; I did not expect you in
<em>England</em>: Brother, I am glad to see you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Turning to his Taylor.</em>] Look you, Sir. I shall never be
reconcil'd to this nauseous Packet; therefore pray get
me another Suit with all manner of Expedition, for this
is my eternal Aversion. Mrs. <em>Callicoe</em>, are not you of
my Mind?</p>

<p><em>Semp.</em> O, directly, my Lord, it can never be too low&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> You are passitively in the right on't, for
the Packet becomes no part of the Body but the Knee.</p>

<p><em>Semp.</em> I hope your Lordship is pleas'd with your
Steenkirk.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> In love with it, stap my Vitals. Bring your
Bill, you shall be paid to-marrow&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Semp.</em> I humbly thank your Honour&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Semp.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Hark thee, Shoemaker, these Shoes a'n't
ugly, but they don't fit me.</p>

<p><em>Shoe.</em> My Lord, my thinks they fit you very well.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> They hurt me just below the Instep.</p>

<p><em>Shoe.</em> [<em>Feeling his Foot.</em>] My Lord, they don't hurt you
there.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I tell thee, they pinch me execrably.</p>

<p><em>Shoe.</em> My Lord, if they pinch you, I'll be bound to
be hang'd, that's all.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, wilt thou undertake to persuade me
I cannot feel?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Shoe.</em> Your Lordship may please to feel what you
think fit; but that Shoe does not hurt you&mdash;I think I
understand my Trade&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Now by all that's great and powerful, thou
art an incomprehensible Coxcomb; but thou makest
good Shoes, and so I'll bear with thee.</p>

<p><em>Shoe.</em> My Lord, I have work'd for half the People of
Quality in Town these Twenty Years; and 'tis very hard
I should not know when a Shoe hurts, and when it don't.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Well, pr'ythee, begone about thy Business.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Shoe.</em></p>

<p>[<em>To the Hosier.</em>] Mr. <em>Mend Legs</em>, a Word with you; the
Calves of the Stockings are thicken'd a little too much.
They make my Legs look like a Chairman's&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mend.</em> My Lord, my thinks they look mighty well.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ay, but you are not so good a Judge of
those things as I am, I have study'd them all my Life;
therefore pray let the next be the thickness of a Crawn-piece
less&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] If the Town takes notice my Legs
are fallen away, 'twill be attributed to the Violence of
some new Intrigue.</p>

<p><em>To the Perriwig-maker.</em>] Come, Mr. <em>Foretop</em>, let me
see what you have done, and then the Fatigue of the
Morning will be over.</p>

<p><em>Foretop.</em> My Lord, I have done what I defy any
Prince in <em>Europe</em> to out-do; I have made you a Perriwig
so long, and so full of Hair, it will serve you for a Hat
and Cloak in all Weathers.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Then thou hast made me thy Friend to
Eternity: Come, comb it out.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Well, <em>Lory</em>, What do'st think on't? A
very friendly Reception from a Brother after Three
Years Absence!</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Why, Sir, 'tis your own Fault; we seldom care
for those that don't love what we love: if you wou'd
creep into his Heart, you must enter into his Pleasures&mdash;Here
you have stood ever since you came in, and have
not commended any one thing that belongs to him.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Nor never shall, while they belong to a
Coxcomb.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Then, Sir, you must be content to pick a hungry
Bone.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> No, Sir, I'll crack it, and get to the
Marrow before I have done.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Gad's Curse! Mr. <em>Foretop</em>, you don't intend
to put this upon me for a full Perriwig?</p>

<p><em>Fore.</em> Not a full one, my Lord! I don't know what
your Lordship may please to call a full one, but I have
cramm'd twenty Ounces of Hair into it.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> What it may be by Weight, Sir, I shall not
dispute; but by Tale, there are not nine Hairs on a side.</p>

<p><em>Fore.</em> O Lord! O Lord! O Lord! Why, as God
shall judge me, your Honor's Side-Face is reduc'd to
the Tip of your Nose.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> My Side-Face may be in an Eclipse for
aught I know; but I'm sure my Full-Face is like the
Full-moon.</p>

<p><em>Fore.</em> Heaven bless my Eye-sight&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Rubbing his
Eyes.</em>] Sure I look thro' the wrong end of the Perspective;
for by my Faith, an't please your Honour, the
broadest place I see in your Face does not seem to me
to be two Inches diameter.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> If it did, it would just be two Inches too
broad; for a Perriwig to a Man, should be like a Mask
to a Woman, nothing should be seen but his Eyes&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Fore.</em> My Lord, I have done; if you please to have
more Hair in your Wig, I'll put it in.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Passitively, yes.</p>

<p><em>Fore.</em> Shall I take it back now, my Lord?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> No: I'll wear it to-day, tho' it shew such
a manstrous pair of Cheeks, stap my Vitals, I shall be
taken for a Trumpeter.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Fore</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Now your People of Business are gone,
Brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an Hour's
Audience of you.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Faith, <em>Tam</em>, I must beg you'll excuse me
at this time, for I must away to the House of Lards
immediately; my Lady <em>Teaser</em>'s Case is to come on to-day,
and I would not be absent for the Salvation of
Mankind. Hey, <em>Page</em>! Is the Coach at the Door?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Page.</em> Yes, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> You'll excuse me, Brother.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Shall you be back at Dinner?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> As Gad shall jedge me, I can't tell; for
'tis passible I may dine with some of aur Hause at <em>Lacket</em>'s.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Shall I meet you there? for I must needs
talk with you.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> That, I'm afraid, mayn't be so praper; far
the Lards I commonly eat with, are a People of a nice
Conversation; and you know, <em>Tam</em>, your Education
has been a little at large: but if you'll stay here, you'll
find a Family Dinner. Hey, Fellow! What is there for
Dinner? There's Beef: I suppose my Brother will eat
Beef. Dear <em>Tam</em>, I'm glad to see thee in <em>England</em>, stap
my Vitals.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit, with his Equipage.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Hell and Furies, is this to be borne?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Faith, Sir, I cou'd almost have given him a
knock o' th' Pate myself.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Tis enough, I will now shew you the
excess of my Passion by being very calm: Come, <em>Lory</em>,
lay your Loggerhead to mine, and in cool Blood let us
contrive his Destruction.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Here comes a Head, Sir, would contrive it
better than us both, if he wou'd but join in the Confederacy.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Coupler</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> By this Light, old <em>Coupler</em> alive still!
Why, how now, Matchmaker, art thou here still to
plague the World with Matrimony? You old Bawd,
how have you the Impudence to be hobbling out of
your Grave twenty Years after you are rotten!</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> When you begin to rot, Sirrah, you'll go off
like a Pippin, one Winter will send you to the Devil.
What Mischief brings you home again? Ha! You
young lascivious Rogue, you: Let me put my Hand into
your Bosom, Sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Stand off, old <em>Sodom</em>.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Nay, pr'ythee now don't be so coy.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Keep your Hands to yourself, you old
Dog you, or I'll wring your Nose off.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Hast thou then been a Year in <em>Italy</em>, and
brought home a Fool at last? By my Conscience, the
young Fellows of this Age profit no more by their going
abroad, than they do by their going to Church.
Sirrah, Sirrah, if you are not hang'd before you come
to my Years, you'll know a Cock from a Hen. But
come, I'm still a Friend to thy Person, tho' I have a
Contempt of thy Understanding; and therefore I would
willingly know thy Condition, that I may see whether
thou standest in need of my Assistance; for Widows
swarm, my Boy, the Town's infested with 'em.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I stand in need of any body's Assistance,
that will help me to cut my elder Brother's Throat,
without the Risque of being hang'd for him.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I'gad, Sirrah, I cou'd help thee to do him almost
as good a turn, without the danger of being burnt
in the Hand for't.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Say'st thou so, old Satan? Shew me but
that, and my Soul is thine.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Pox o'thy Soul! give me thy warm Body, Sirrah;
I shall have a substantial Title to't when I tell thee
my Project.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Out with it then, dear Dad, and take
possession as soon as thou wilt.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Sayest thou so, my <em>Hephestion</em>? Why, then, thus
lies the Scene: but hold; who's that? If we are heard
we are undone.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> What have you forgot <em>Lory</em>?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Who, trusty <em>Lory</em>, is it thee?</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> At your Service, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Give me thy Hand, old Boy; I'gad I did not
know thee again; but I remember thy Honesty, tho' I
did not thy Face; I think thou hadst like to have been
hang'd once or twice for thy Master.</p>

<p><em>Lory.</em> Sir, I was very near once having that Honour.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Well, live and hope; don't be discourag'd; eat
with him, and drink with him, and do what he bids
thee, and it may be thy Reward at last, as well as another's.</p>

<p><em>To Young Fash.</em>] Well, Sir, you must know I have done
you the Kindness to make up a Match for your Brother.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I am very much beholden to you, truly.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> You may be, Sirrah, before the Wedding-day
yet; the Lady is a great Heiress; fifteen hundred Pound
a year, and a great Bag of Money; the Match is concluded,
the Writings are drawn, and the Pipkin's to be
crack'd in a Fortnight&mdash;Now you must know, Stripling
(with Respect to your Mother), your Brother's the Son
of a Whore.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Good.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> He has given me a Bond of a Thousand Pounds
for helping him to this Fortune, and has promis'd me as
much more in ready Money upon the Day of Marriage;
which, I understand by a Friend, he ne'er designs to pay
me; if therefore you will be a generous young Dog, and
secure me five thousand Pounds, I'll be a covetous old
Rogue, and help you to the Lady.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'gad, if thou can'st bring this about, I'll
have thy Statue cast in Brass. But don't you doat, you
old Pandar you, when you talk at this rate?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> That your youthful Parts shall judge of: This
plump Partridge, that I tell you of, lives in the Country,
fifty Miles off, with her honoured Parents, in a
lonely old House which nobody comes near; she never
goes abroad, nor sees Company at home: To prevent
all Misfortunes, she has her Breeding within Doors,
the Parson of the Parish teaches her to play on the Bass-Viol,
the Clerk to sing, her Nurse to dress, and her
Father to dance: In short, nobody can give you admittance
there but I; nor can I do it any other way,
than by making you pass for your Brother.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> And how the Devil wilt thou do that?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Without the Devil's Aid, I warrant thee. Thy
Brother's Face not one of the Family ever saw; the whole
Business has been manag'd by me, and all the Letters go
thro' my Hands: The last that was writ to Sir <em>Tunbelly
Clumsey</em> (for that's the old Gentleman's Name) was to tell
him, his Lordship would be down in a Fortnight to consummate.
Now you shall go away immediately; pretend
you writ that letter only to have the romantick Pleasure
of surprizing your Mistress; fall desperately in Love, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
soon as you see her; make that your Plea for marrying
her immediately; and when the fatigue of the Wedding-night's
over, you shall send me a swinging Purse of
Gold, you Dog you.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'gad, old Dad, I'll put my Hand in thy
Bosom now&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Ah, you young hot lusty Thief, let me muzzle
you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kissing.</em></p>

<p>Sirrah, let me muzzle you.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Psha, the old Letcher&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[Aside.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Well; I'll warrant thou hast not a Farthing of
Money in thy Pocket now; no, one may see it in thy
Face&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Not a Sous, by <em>Jupiter</em>.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Must I advance then?&mdash;Well, Sirrah, be at my
Lodgings in half an Hour, and I'll see what may be
done; we'll sign and seal, and eat a Pullet, and when
I have given thee some farther Instructions, thou shalt
hoist Sail and be gone&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Kissing.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;T'other
Buss, and so adieu.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Um, 'psha.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Ah; you young warm Dog, you; what a delicious
Night will the Bride have on't!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Coupler.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> So, <em>Lory</em>; Providence, thou seest, at last
takes care of Men of Merit: We are in a fair way to
be great People.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Ay, Sir, if the Devil don't step between the Cup
and the Lip, as he uses to do.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, faith, he has play'd me many a
damn'd Trick to spoil my Fortune, and, I'gad, I'm almost
afraid he's at work about it again now; but if I
should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Indeed, Sir, I shou'd not.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> How dost know?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Because, Sir, I have wonder'd at you so often, I
can wonder at you no more.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> No! what wouldst thou say if a Qualm of
Conscience should spoil my Design?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> I wou'd eat my Words, and wonder more than ever.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, faith, <em>Lory</em>, tho' I am a young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
Rake-hell, and have play'd many a Roguish Trick;
this is so full grown a Cheat, I find I must take pains to
come up to't; I have Scruples&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> They are strong Symptoms of Death; if you find
they increase, pray, Sir, make your Will.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> No, my Conscience shan't starve me, neither.
But thus far I'll hearken to it; before I execute
this Project, I'll try my Brother to the bottom, I'll speak
to him with the Temper of a Philosopher; my Reasons
(tho' they press him home) shall yet be cloth'd with so
much Modesty, not one of all the Truths they urge, shall
be so naked to offend his Sight: if he has yet so much
Humanity about him, as to assist me (tho' with a moderate
Aid) I'll drop my Project at his Feet, and shew him how
I can do for him, much more than what I ask he'd do for
me. This one conclusive Trial of him I resolve to make&mdash;</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Succeed or no, still Victory's my Lot;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If I subdue his Heart, 'tis well; if not,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I shall subdue my Conscience to my Plot.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<span class="antiqua">Exeunt.</span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-039.jpg" width="700" height="38" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_II_SCENE_I2" id="ACT_II_SCENE_I2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span> and <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>ow</span> do you like these Lodgings, my Dear?
For my part, I am so well pleased with
them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay in Town, if
you are satisfy'd.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I am satisfy'd with every thing that pleases
you; else I had not come to Town at all.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O! a little of the Noise and Bustle of the World
sweetens the Pleasures of Retreat: We shall find the
Charms of our Retirement doubled, when we return to it.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That pleasing Prospect will be my chiefest Entertainment,
whilst, much against my Will, I am obliged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
to stand surrounded with these empty Pleasures, which 'tis
so much the Fashion to be fond of.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I own most of them are indeed but empty;
nay, so empty, that one would wonder by what Magick
Power they act, when they induce us to be vicious for
their sakes. Yet some there are we may speak kindlier
of: There are Delights, of which a private Life is destitute,
which may divert an honest Man, and be a harmless
Entertainment to a virtuous Woman. The Conversation
of the Town is one; and truly (with some
small Allowances) the Plays, I think, may be esteem'd
another.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> The Plays, I must confess, have some small
Charms; and wou'd have more, wou'd they restrain
that loose obscene Encouragement to Vice, which shocks,
if not the Virtue of some Women, at least the Modesty
of all.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> But till that Reformation can be made, I would
not leave the wholesome Corn for some intruding Tares
that grow among it. Doubtless the Moral of a well-wrought
Scene is of prevailing Force&mdash;&mdash;Last Night
there happen'd one that mov'd me strangely.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Pray, what was that?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why 'twas about&mdash;but 'tis not worth repeating.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yes, pray let me know it.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> No, I think 'tis as well let alone.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Nay, now you make me have a mind to know.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> 'Twas a foolish thing: You'd perhaps grow jealous
shou'd I tell it you, tho' without a Cause, Heaven
knows.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I shall begin to think I have cause, if you persist
in making it a Secret.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'll then convince you you have none, by making
it no longer so. Know then, I happen'd in the Play
to find my very Character, only with the Addition of a
Relapse; which struck me so, I put a sudden Stop to a
most harmless Entertainment, which till then diverted
me between the Acts. 'Twas to admire the Workmanship
of Nature, in the Face of a young Lady that sat some distance
from me, she was so exquisitely handsome&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> So exquisitely handsome!</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why do you repeat my Words, my Dear?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Because you seem'd to speak them with such
Pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their Echo.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Then you are alarmed, <em>Amanda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> It is my Duty to be so, when you are in danger.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You are too quick in apprehending for me; all
will be well when you have heard me out. I do confess
I gaz'd upon her, nay, eagerly I gaz'd upon her.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Eagerly! That's with Desire.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> No, I desir'd her not: I view'd her with a
World of Admiration, but not one Glance of Love.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Take heed of trusting to such nice Distinctions.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I did take heed; for observing in the Play, that
he who seem'd to represent me there, was, by an Accident
like this, unwarily surpriz'd into a Net, in which
he lay a poor intangled Slave, and brought a Train of
Mischiefs on his Head, I snatch'd my Eyes away; they
pleaded hard for leave to look again, but I grew absolute,
and they obey'd.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Were they the only things that were inquisitive?
Had I been in your place, my Tongue, I fancy,
had been curious too: I shou'd have ask'd her Name,
and where she liv'd (yet still without Design:)&mdash;Who
was she, pray?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Indeed I cannot tell.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You will not tell.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> By all that's sacred, then, I did not ask.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Nor do you know what Company was with
her?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I do not.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Then I am calm again.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why, were you disturb'd?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Had I then no cause?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> None certainly.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I thought I had.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> But you thought wrong, <em>Amanda</em>; For turn the
Case, and let it be your Story; Should you come home,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
and tell me you had seen a handsome Man, shou'd I
grow jealous because you had Eyes?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But shou'd I tell you he were exquisitely so;
that I had gaz'd on him with Admiration; that I had
look'd with eager Eyes upon him; shou'd you not think
'twere possible I might go one Step further, and enquire
his Name?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] She has Reason on her side, I have talk'd
too much; but I must turn it off another way. [<em>To Aman.</em>]
Will you then make no difference, <em>Amanda</em>, between
the Language of our Sex and yours? There is a
Modesty restrains your Tongues, which makes you speak
by halves when you commend; but roving Flattery gives
a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what
we think: You shou'd not therefore, in so strict a Sense,
take what I said to her Advantage.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Those Flights of Flattery, Sir, are to our Faces
only: When Women once are out of hearing, you are
as modest in your Commendations as we are. But I
shan't put you to the trouble of farther Excuses; if you
please, this Business shall rest here. Only give me leave
to wish, both for your Peace and mine, that you may
never meet this Miracle of Beauty more.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I am content.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Madam, there's a young Lady at the door in a
Chair, desires to know whether your Ladyship sees Company.
I think her Name is <em>Berinthia</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> O dear! 'tis a Relation I have not seen this five
Years. Pray her to walk in.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Servant.</em></p>

<p><em>To Lov.</em>] Here's another Beauty for you. She was
young when I saw her last; but I hear she's grown extremely
handsome.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Don't you be jealous now, for I shall gaze upon
her too.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Ha! By Heavens, the very Woman!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>Saluting Aman.</em>] Dear <em>Amanda</em>, I did not expect
to meet with you in Town.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Sweet Cousin, I'm overjoy'd to see you. [<em>To
Lov.</em>] Mr. <em>Loveless</em>, here's a Relation and a Friend of
mine, I desire you'll be better acquainted with.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Saluting Ber.</em>] If my Wife never desires a harder
thing, Madam, her Request will be easily granted.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>To Aman.</em>] I think, Madam, I ought to wish
you Joy.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Joy! Upon what?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Upon your Marriage: You were a Widow when
I saw you last.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You ought rather, Madam, to wish me Joy
upon that, since I am the only Gainer.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> If she has got so good a Husband as the World
reports, she has gain'd enough to expect the Compliment
of her Friends upon it.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> If the World is so favourable to me, to allow I
deserve that Title, I hope 'tis so just to my Wife, to
own I derive it from her.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Sir, it is so just to you both, to own you are, and
deserve to be, the happiest Pair that live in it.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'm afraid we shall lose that Character, Madam,
whenever you happen to change your Condition.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> Sir, my Lord <em>Foppington</em> presents his humble Service
to you, and desires to know how you do. He but
just now heard you were in Town. He's at the next
Door; and if it be not inconvenient, he'll come and
wait upon you.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Lord <em>Foppington</em>!&mdash;I know him not.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Not his Dignity, perhaps, but you do his Person.
'Tis Sir <em>Novelty</em>; he has bought a Barony, in order
to marry a great Fortune: His Patent has not been
pass'd above eight-and-forty-Hours, and he has already
sent How do-ye's to all the Town, to make 'em acquainted
with his Title.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Give my Service to his Lordship, and let him
know, I am proud of the Honour he intends me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex.</em>.</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> Sure this Addition of Quality must have so improv'd
this Coxcomb, he can't but be very good Company for a
quarter of an Hour.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Now it moves my Pity more than my Mirth,
to see a Man whom Nature has made no Fool, be so
very industrious to pass for an Ass.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> No, there you are wrong, <em>Amanda</em>; you shou'd
never bestow your Pity upon those who take pains for
your Contempt; Pity those whom Nature abuses, but
never those who abuse Nature.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Besides, the Town wou'd be robb'd of one of its
chiefest Diversions, if it shou'd become a Crime to laugh
at a Fool.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I could never yet perceive the Town inclin'd
to part with any of its Diversions, for the sake of their
being Crimes; but I have seen it very fond of some, I
think, had little else to recommend 'em.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I doubt, <em>Amanda</em>, you are grown its Enemy,
you speak with so much warmth against it.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I must confess I am not much its Friend.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Then give me leave to make you mine, by not
engaging in its Quarrel.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You have many stronger Claims than that, <em>Berinthia</em>,
whenever you think fit to plead your Title.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You have done well to engage a Second, my
Dear; for here comes one will be apt to call you to an
Account for your Country Principles.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord</em> Foppington.
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>To Lov.</em>] Sir, I am your most humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Lav.</em> I wish you Joy, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> O Laird, Sir&mdash;&mdash;Madam, your Ladyship's
welcome to Tawn.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I wish your Lordship Joy.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> O Heavens, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> My Lord, this young Lady is a Relation of my
Wife's.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Saluting her.</em>] The beautifullest Race of People
upon Earth, Rat me. Dear <em>Loveless</em>, I am overjoy'd
to see you have brought your Family to Tawn again:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
I am, stap my Vitals&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] For I design to lie
with your Wife. [<em>To Aman.</em>] Far Gad's sake, Madam,
haw has your Ladyship been able to subsist thus long,
under the Fatigue of a Country Life?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> My life has been very far from that, my Lord,
it has been a very quiet one.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why that's the Fatigue I speak of, Madam:
For 'tis impossible to be quiet, without thinking: Now
thinking is to me the greatest Fatigue in the World.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Does not your Lordship love reading then?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Oh, passionately, Madam&mdash;&mdash;But I never
think of what I read.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, can your Lordship read without thinking?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> O Lard&mdash;&mdash;Can your Ladyship pray without
Devotion&mdash;&mdash;Madam?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well, I must own I think Books the best Entertainment
in the World.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I am so much of your Ladyship's Mind,
Madam, that I have a private Gallery, where I walk
sometimes, is furnished with nothing but Books and
Looking-glasses. Madam, I have gilded them, and
rang'd 'em, so prettily, before Gad, it is the most entertaining
thing in the World to walk and look upon 'em.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Nay, I love a neat Library too; but 'tis,
I think, the inside of a Book shou'd recommend it most
to us.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> That, I must confess, I am not altogether
so fand of. Far to my mind the Inside of a Book, is to
entertain one's self with the forc'd Product of another
Man's Brain. Naw I think a Man of Quality and Breeding
may be much diverted with the natural Sprauts of
his own. But to say the truth, Madam, let a Man love
reading never so well, when once he comes to know
this Tawn, he finds so many better ways of passing away
the Four-and-twenty Hours, that 'twere ten thousand
Pities he shou'd consume his time in that. Far example,
Madam, my Life; my Life, Madam, is a perpetual
Stream of Pleasure, that glides thro' such a Variety of
Entertainments, I believe the wisest of our Ancestors
never had the least Conception of any of 'em.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>

<p>I rise, Madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise sooner,
because 'tis the worst thing in the World for the
Complection; nat that I pretend to be a Beau; but a
Man must endeavour to look wholesome, lest he make
to nauseous a Figure in the Side-bax, the Ladies shou'd
be compell'd to turn their eyes upon the Play. So at
Ten o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it a good
Day, I resalve to take a Turn in the Park, and see the
fine Women; so huddle on my Clothes, and get dress'd
by One. If it be nasty Weather, I take a Turn in the
Chocolate-house; where, as you walk, Madam, you
have the prettiest Prospect in the World; you have
Looking-glasses all round you&mdash;&mdash;But I'm afraid I
tire the Company.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Not at all. Pray go on.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why then, Ladies, from thence I go to
Dinner at <em>Lacket</em>'s, and there you are so nicely and delicately
serv'd, that, stap my Vitals, they can compose
you a Dish, no bigger than a Saucer, shall come to fifty
Shillings; between eating my Dinner, and washing
my Mouth, Ladies, I spend my time, till I go to the
Play; where, till Nine o'clock, I entertain myself with
looking upon the Company; and usually dispose of one
Hour more in leading them aut. So there's Twelve of
the Four-and-Twenty pretty well over. The other
Twelve, Madam, are disposed of in two Articles: In
the first Four I toast myself drunk, and in t'other Eight
I sleep myself sober again. Thus, Ladies, you see my
Life is an eternal raund O of Delights.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> 'Tis a heavenly one, indeed!</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But, my Lord, you <em>Beaux</em> spend a great deal
of your Time in Intrigues: You have given us no Account
of them yet.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Soh, she wou'd enquire into my
Amours&mdash;&mdash;That's Jealousy&mdash;&mdash;She begins to be
in love with me. [<em>To Aman.</em>] Why, Madam&mdash;&mdash;as
to time for my Intrigues, I usually make Detachments
of it from my other Pleasures, according to the Exigency.
Far your Ladyship may please to take notice, that those
who intrigue with Women of Quality, have rarely occa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>sion
for above half an Hour at a time: People of that
Rank being under those Decorums, they can seldom
give you a larger View, than will justly serve to shoot
'em flying. So that the Course of my other Pleasures is
not very much interrupted by my Amours.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> But your Lordship now is become a Pillar of the
State; you must attend the weighty Affairs of the Nation.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;as to weighty Affairs&mdash;&mdash;I leave
them to weighty Heads. I never intend mine shall be a
Burden to my Body.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O, but you'll find the House will expect your
Attendance.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, you'll find the House will compound
for my Appearance.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> But your Friends will take it ill if you don't attend
their particular Causes.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Not, Sir, if I come time enough to give
'em my particular Vote.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> But pray, my Lord, how do you dispose of
yourself on <em>Sundays</em>? for that, methinks, shou'd hang
wretchedly on your hands.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, faith, Madam&mdash;&mdash;<em>Sunday</em>&mdash;&mdash;is
a vile day, I must confess; I intend to move for
leave to bring in a Bill, That Players may work upon
it, as well as the Hackney Coaches. Tho' this I must
say for the Government, it leaves us the Churches to
entertain us&mdash;&mdash;But then again, they begin so abominable
early, a Man must rise by Candle-light to get
dress'd by the Psalm.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Pray which Church does your Lordship most
oblige with your Presence?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Oh, St. <em>James</em>'s, Madam&mdash;&mdash;There's much
the best Company.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Is there good Preaching too?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, faith, Madam&mdash;&mdash;I can't tell. A
Man must have very little to do there, that can give an
Account of the Sermon.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You can give us an Account of the Ladies, at
least.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Or I deserve to be excommunicated&mdash;There
is my Lady <em>Tattle</em>, my Lady <em>Prate</em>, my Lady <em>Titter</em>, my
Lady <em>Lear</em>, my Lady <em>Giggle</em>, and my Lady <em>Grin</em>. These
fit in the Front of the Boxes, and all Church-time are
the prettiest Company in the World, stap my Vitals.
[<em>To Aman.</em>] Mayn't we hope for the Honour to see your
Ladyship added to our Society, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Alas, my Lord, I am the worst Company in
the World at Church: I'm apt to mind the Prayers, or
the Sermon, or&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> One is indeed strangely apt at Church to
mind what one should not do. But I hope, Madam, at
one time or other, I shall have the Honour to lead your
Ladyship to your Coach there. [<em>Aside.</em>] Methinks she
seems strangely pleas'd with every thing I say to her&mdash;'Tis
a vast pleasure to receive Encouragement from a
Woman before her Husband's Face&mdash;&mdash;I have a good
mind to pursue my Conquest, and speak the thing
plainly to her at once&mdash;I'gad, I'll do't, and that in so
Cavalier a manner, she shall be surpriz'd at it&mdash;Ladies,
I'll take my Leave: I'am afraid I begin to grow
troublesome with the length of my Visit.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Your Lordship is too entertaining to grow
troublesome any where.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] That now was as much as if she
had said&mdash;&mdash;Pray lie with me. I'll let her see I'm quick
of Apprehension. [<em>To Aman.</em>] O Lard, Madam, I had
like to have forgot a Secret, I must needs tell your Ladyship.
[<em>To Lov.</em>] Ned, you must not be so jealous now
as to listen.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Not I, my Lord; I'm too fashionable a Husband
to pry into the Secrets of my Wife.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>To Aman. squeezing her Hand.</em>] I am in love
with you to Desperation, strike me speechless.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> [<em>Giving him a Box o' th' Ear.</em>] Then thus I
return your Passion&mdash;&mdash;An impudent Fool!</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Gad's Curse, Madam, I'm a Peer of the Realm.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Hey; what the Devil, do you affront my Wife,
Sir? Nay then&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They draw and fight. The Women run shrieking for Help.</em></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Ah! What has my Folly done? Help! Murder,
help! Part 'em, for Heaven's sake.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Falling back, and leaning upon his Sword.</em>]
Ah&mdash;&mdash;quite thro' the Body&mdash;&mdash;Stap my Vitals.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servants.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Running to him.</em>] I hope I han't kill'd the Fool,
however&mdash;&mdash;Bear him up! Where's your Wound?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Just thro' the Guts.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Call a Surgeon there: Unbutton him quickly.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ay, pray make haste.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> This Mischief you may thank yourself for.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I may so&mdash;Love's the Devil indeed, <em>Ned</em>.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Syringe</span> and Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Here's Mr. <em>Syringe</em>, Sir, was just going by the
Door.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> He's the welcomest Man alive.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Stand by, stand by, stand by. Pray, Gentlemen,
stand by. Lord have mercy upon us! Did you never
see a Man run thro' the Body before? Pray stand by.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ah, Mr. <em>Syringe</em>.&mdash;&mdash;I'm a dead Man.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> A dead Man, and I by&mdash;&mdash;I shou'd laugh to see
that, I'gad.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon
his Wound.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Why, what if I won't look upon his Wound
this Hour, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why then he'll bleed to Death, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> 'Slife, he's run thro' the Guts, I tell thee.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Wou'd he were run thro' the Heart, I shou'd
get the more Credit by his Cure. Now I hope you are
satisfy'd?&mdash;&mdash;Come, now let me come at him; now let
me come at him. [<em>Viewing his Wound.</em>] Oons, what a
Gash is here!&mdash;Why, Sir, a Man may drive a
Coach and Six Horses into your Body.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ho&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Why, what the Devil, have you run the Gentleman
thro' with a Scythe?&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] A little Prick
between the Skin and the Ribs, that's all.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Let me see his Wound.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Then you shall dress it, Sir; for if any body
looks upon it, I won't.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why, thou art the veriest Coxcomb I ever saw.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Sir, I am not Matter of my Trade for nothing.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Surgeon!</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Well, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Is there any Hopes?</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Hopes!&mdash;--I can't tell&mdash;&mdash;What are you willing
to give for your Cure?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Five hundred Paunds with Pleasure.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> Why then perhaps there may be Hopes. But we
must avoid further Delay. Here, help the Gentleman
into a Chair, and carry him to my House presently,
that's the properest place [<em>Aside.</em>] to bubble him out of
his Money. Come, a Chair, a Chair quickly&mdash;There,
in with him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They put him into a Chair.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Dear <em>Loveless</em>&mdash;&mdash;Adieu. If I die&mdash;&mdash;I forgive
thee; and if I live&mdash;&mdash;I hope thou wilt do as much
by me. I am very sorry you and I shou'd quarrel; but
I hope here's an end on't, for if you are satisfy'd&mdash;&mdash;I
am.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting
any farther, so you may be at rest, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me
dumb. [<em>Aside.</em>] But thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap
my Vitals.</p>

<p><em>Syr.</em> So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have
him prate himself into a Fever by and by; carry him
off.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Serv.</span> with <span class="antiqua">L. Fop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your
pardon for my Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to
think how dear my indiscreet Resentment might have
cost you.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by
the Hand, and frankly offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
I know I was to blame to resent it as I did, since nothing
but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd
me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my
Fingers.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at
great Command, they obey'd you so readily.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Save you, save you, good People; I'm glad to
find you all alive; I met a wounded Peer carrying off.
For Heav'ns sake, what was the matter?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O, a Trifle: He would have lain with my Wife
before my Face, so she oblig'd him with a Box o'the
Ear, and I run him thro' the Body: That was all.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> <em>Bagatelle</em> on all sides. But, pray, Madam, how
long has this noble Lord been an humble Servant of
yours?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> This is the first I have heard on't. So I suppose
'tis his Quality, more than his Love, has brought
him into this Adventure. He thinks his Title an authentick
Passport to every Woman's Heart, below the
Degree of a Peeress.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> He's Coxcomb enough to think any thing. But
I wou'd not have you brought into Trouble for him: I
hope there's no Danger of his Life?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> None at all: He's fallen into the Hands of a
roguish Surgeon, who I perceive designs to frighten a
little Money out of him. But I saw his Wound, 'tis nothing;
he may go to the Play to-night, if he pleases.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I'm glad you have corrected him without farther
Mischief. And now, Sir, if these Ladies have no farther
Service for you, you'll oblige me if you can go to
the Place I spoke to you of t'other Day.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> With all my Heart. [<em>Aside.</em>] Tho' I cou'd wish,
methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that Creature.
Good God! How beautiful she is!&mdash;But what
have I to do with Beauty? I have already had my Portion,
and must not covet more. Come, Sir, when you
please.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To</em> Wor.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Ladies, your Servant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
<em>Aman.</em> Mr. <em>Loveless</em>, pray one Word with you before
you go.</p>

<p><em>Lov. <span class="antiqua">to</span> Wor.</em>] I'll overtake you, Sir: What wou'd
my Dear?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Only a Woman's foolish Question, How do
you like my Cousin here?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Jealous already, <em>Amanda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Not at all; I ask you for another Reason.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> <em>Aside.</em>] Whate'er her Reason be, I must not tell
her true. [<em>To Aman.</em>] Why, I confess she's handsome.
But you must not think I slight your Kinswoman, if I
own to you, of all the Women who may claim that
Character, she is the last wou'd triumph in my Heart.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I'm satisfy'd.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Now tell me why you ask'd?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> At Night I will. Adieu.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'm yours. [<em>Kissing her.</em>]</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lov.</em></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'm glad to find he does not like her;
for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live
with me. [<em>To Ber.</em>] Now, dear <em>Berinthia</em>, let me enquire
a little into your Affairs: for I do assure you, I
am enough your Friend, to interest myself in every
thing that concerns you.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You formerly have given me such Proofs on't, I
shou'd be very much to blame to doubt it; I am sorry
I have no Secrets to trust you with, that I might convince
you how entire a Confidence I durst repose in you.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why is it possible, that one so young and
beautiful as you, shou'd live and have no Secrets?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What Secrets do you mean?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Lovers.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Twenty; but not one secret one amongst 'em.
Lovers in this Age have too much Honour to do any
thing under-hand; they do all above-board.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That now, methinks, wou'd make me hate a
Man.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> But the Women of the Town are of another
mind: For by this means a Lady may, with the Expence
of a few Coquet Glances, lead twenty Fools about in a
String, for two or three Years together. Whereas, if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
shou'd allow 'em greater Favours, and oblige 'em to Secrecy,
she wou'd not keep one of 'em a Fortnight.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> There's something indeed in That to satisfy
the Vanity of a Woman, but I can't comprehend how
the Men find their Account in it.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Their Entertainment, I must confess, is a Riddle
to me. For there's very few of them ever get farther
than a Bow and an Ogle. I have half a Score for my
share, who follow me all over the Town; and at the
Play, the Park, and the Church, do, with their Eyes,
say the violent'st things to me&mdash;&mdash;But I never hear any
more of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> What can be the Reason of that?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> One Reason is, They don't know how to go
farther. They have had so little Practice, they don't
understand the Trade. But besides their Ignorance, you
must know there is not one of my half-score Lovers but
what follows half a score Mistresses. Now their Affections
being divided amongst so many, are not strong
enough for any one, to make 'em pursue her to the
Purpose. Like a young Puppy in a Warren, they have
a Flirt at all, and catch none.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yet they seem to have a Torrent of Love to
dispose of.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> They have so: But 'tis like the River of a Modern
Philosopher, whose Works, tho' a Woman, I have
read: it sets out with a violent Stream, splits in a thousand
Branches, and is all lost in the Sands.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But do you think this River of Love runs all
its Course without doing any Mischief? Do you think it
overflows nothing?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O yes; 'tis true, it never breaks into any body's
Ground that has the least Fence about it; but it overflows
all the Commons that lie in its way. And this is
the utmost Achievement of those dreadful Champions
in the Field of Love&mdash;the Beaux.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But pr'ythee, <em>Berinthia</em>, instruct me a little
farther; for I am so great a Novice, I'm almost asham'd
on't. My Husband's leaving me whilst I was young and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
fond, threw me into that Depth of Discontent, that ever
since I have led so private and recluse a Life, my Ignorance
is scarce conceivable. I therefore fain would be
instructed: Not, Heaven knows, that what you call
Intrigues have any Charms for me: my Love and Principles
are too well fix'd. The practick Part of all unlawful
Love is&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O 'tis abominable: But for the Speculative&mdash;that
we must all confess is entertaining. The Conversation
of all the virtuous Women in the Town turns upon
that and new Clothes.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Pray be so just then to me, to believe, 'tis with
a World of Innocency I wou'd enquire, Whether you
think those Women we call Women of Reputation, do
really 'scape all other Men, as they do those Shadows
of 'em, the Beaux.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O no, <em>Amanda</em>; there are a sort of Men make
dreadful Work amongst 'em: Men that may be call'd
The Beaux Antipathy; for they agree in nothing but
walking upon two Legs.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">These have Brains: The Beau has none.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">These are in Love with their Mistress: The Beau with himself.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They take care of her Reputation: He's industrious to destroy it.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are decent: He's a Fop.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are sound: He's rotten.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They are Men: He's an Ass.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Aman.</em> If this be their Character, I fancy we had here
e'en now a Pattern of 'em both.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> His Lordship and Mr. <em>Worthy</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> The same.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> As for the Lord, he's eminently so; And for the
other, I can assure you, there's not a Man in Town who
has a better Interest with the Women, that are worth
having an Interest with. But 'tis all private: He's like
a Back-stair Minister at Court, who, whilst the reputed
Favourites are sauntering in the Bed-chamber, is ruling
the Roast in the Closet.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> He answers then the Opinion I had ever of him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
Heavens! What a difference there is between a Man like
him, and that vain nauseous Fop, Sir <em>Novelty</em>! [<em>Taking
her Hand.</em>] I must acquaint you with a Secret, Cousin.
'Tis not that Fool alone has talked to me of Love, <em>Worthy</em>
has been tampering too: 'Tis true, he has done it
in vain: Not all his Charms or Art have power to shake
me. My Love, my Duty, and my Virtue, are such faithful
Guards, I need not fear my Heart shou'd e'er betray me.
But what I wonder at is this: I find I did not start at his
Proposal, as when it came from one whom I contemn'd.
I therefore mention this Attempt, that I may learn from
you whence it proceeds, that Vice, which cannot change
its Nature, shou'd so far change at least its Shape, as that
the self-same Crime propos'd from one shall seem a Monster
gaping at your Ruin, when from another it shall
look so kind, as tho' it were your Friend, and never meant
to harm you. Whence think you, can this Difference
proceed? For 'tis not Love, Heaven knows.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O no; I wou'd not for the World believe it were.
But possibly, shou'd there a dreadful Sentence pass upon
you, to undergo the Rage of both their Passions; the
Pain you apprehend from one might seem so trivial to
the other, the Danger wou'd not quite so much alarm you.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Fy, fy, <em>Berinthia</em>! you wou'd indeed alarm me,
cou'd you incline me to a Thought, that all the Merit of
Mankind combin'd, cou'd shake that tender Love I bear
my Husband: No, he sits triumphant in my Heart, and
nothing can dethrone him.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> But shou'd he abdicate again, do you think you
shou'd preserve the vacant Throne ten tedious Winters
more, in hopes of his return?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Indeed I think I shou'd. Tho' I confess, after
those Obligations he has to me, shou'd he abandon me
once more, my Heart wou'd grow extremely urgent
with me to root him thence, and cast him out for ever.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Were I that thing they call a slighted Wife,
some Body shou'd run the risque of being that thing
they call&mdash;a Husband.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> O fy, <em>Berinthia</em>! No Revenge shou'd ever be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
taken against a Husband: But to wrong his Bed is a
Vengeance, which of all Vengeance&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Is the sweetest&mdash;ha, ha, ha! Don't I talk madly?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Madly indeed.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Yet I'm very innocent.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That I dare swear you are. I know how to
make Allowances for your Humour: You were always
very entertaining Company; but I find since Marriage
and Widowhood have shewn you the World a little, you
are very much improv'd.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Alack a-day, there has gone more than
that to improve me, if she knew all.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> For Heaven's sake, <em>Berinthia</em>, tell me what
way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with
me?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, one way in the World there is&mdash;&mdash;and
but one.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Pray which is that?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> It is to assure me&mdash;I shall be very welcome.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> If that be all, you shall e'en lie here to-night.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> To-night?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yes, to-night.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, the People where I lodge will think me
mad.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Let 'em think what they please.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Say you so, <em>Amanda</em>? Why then they shall think
what they please: For I'm a young Widow, and I care
not what any body thinks. Ah, <em>Amanda</em>, it's a delicious
thing to be a young Widow.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You'll hardly make me think so.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Phu, because you are in love with your Husband:
but that is not every Woman's Case.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I hope 'twas yours, at least.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell
you a Lye, but I shou'd do it so aukwardly, you'd find
me out.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Then e'en speak the Truth.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Shall I?&mdash;&mdash;Then after all, I did love him,
<em>Amanda</em>&mdash;&mdash;as a Nun does Penance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
<em>Aman.</em> Why did not you refuse to marry him, then?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Because my Mother wou'd have whipt me.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> How did you live together?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Like Man and Wife&mdash;asunder;</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">He lov'd the Country, I the Town.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He Hawks and Hounds, I Coaches and Equipage.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He Eating and Drinking, I Carding and Playing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He the Sound of a Horn, I the Squeak of a Fiddle.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We were dull Company at Table, worse a-bed.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whenever we met, we gave one another the Spleen.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And never agreed but once, which was about lying alone.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Notwithstanding all these Jars, did not his
Death at last extremely trouble you?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O yes: Not that my present Pangs were so very
violent, but the After-pains were intolerable. I was forc'd
to wear a beastly Widow's Band a Twelvemonth for't.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Women, I find, have different Inclinations.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Women, I find, keep different Company. When
your Husband ran away from you, if you had fallen
into some of my Acquaintance, 'twou'd have sav'd you
many a Tear. But you go and live with a Grandmother,
a Bishop, and an old Nurse, which was enough
to make any Woman break her Heart for her Husband.
Pray, <em>Amanda</em>, if ever you are a Widow again, keep
yourself so as I do.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, do you then resolve you'll never marry?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O, no; I resolve I will.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> How so?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> That I never may.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You banter me.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Indeed I don't. But I consider I'm a Woman,
and form my Resolutions accordingly.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well, my Opinion is, form what Resolution
you will, Matrimony will be the end on't.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Faith it won't.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I'm sure on't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, do you think 'tis impossible for you to
fall in love?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Nay, but to grow so passionately fond, that
nothing but the Man you love can give you rest?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Well, what then?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, then you'll marry him.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> How do you know that?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, what can you do else?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Nothing&mdash;but sit and cry.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Psha.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Ah, poor <em>Amanda</em>, you have led a Country Life:
But if you'll consult the Widows of this Town, they'll
tell you, you shou'd never take a Lease of a House you
can hire for a Quarter's Warning.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-058.jpg" width="700" height="43" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_III2" id="ACT_III2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span> and Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>ey</span>, Fellow, let the Coach come to the
Door.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Will your Lordship venture so soon to expose
yourself to the Weather?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, I will venture as soon as I can, to expose
myself to the Ladies: tho' give me my Cloke, however;
for in that Side-bax, what between the Air that
comes in at the Door on one side, and the intolerable
Warmth of the Masks on t'other, a Man gets so many
Heats and Colds, 'twou'd destroy the Canstitution of a
Harse.</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> [<em>Putting on his Cloke.</em>] I wish your Lordship wou'd
please to keep House a little longer, I'm afraid your
Honour does not well consider your Wound.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> My Wound!&mdash;--I wou'd not be in
Eclipse another Day, tho' I had as many Wounds in my
Guts as I have had in my Heart.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Brother, your Servant. How do you
find yourself to-day?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> So well, that I have arder'd my Coach to
the Door: So there's no great Danger of Death this
baut, <em>Tam</em>.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'm very glad of it.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <em>aside.</em>] That I believe's a Lye. Pr'ythee,
<em>Tam</em>, tell me one thing: Did not your Heart cut a Caper
up to your Mauth, when you heard I was run thro'
the Bady?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why do you think it shou'd?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Because I remember mine did so, when I
heard my Father was shat thro' the Head?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> It then did very ill.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Pr'ythee, why so?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Because he us'd you very well.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Well?&mdash;naw strike me dumb, he starv'd
me. He has let me want a Thausand Women for want
of a Thausand Paund.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Then he hindered you from making a
great many ill Bargains; for I think no Woman is worth
Money, that will take Money.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> If I were a younger Brother, I shou'd think
so too.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, is it possible you can value a Woman
that's to be bought?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Pr'ythee, why not as well as a Pad-Nag?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Because a Woman has a Heart to dispose
of; a Horse has none.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Look you, <em>Tam</em>, of all things that belang
to a Woman, I have an Aversion to her Heart; far
when once a Woman has given you her Heart&mdash;&mdash;you
can never get rid of the rest of her Bady.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> This is strange Doctrine: But pray in
your Amours how is it with your own Heart?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, my Heart in my Amours&mdash;&mdash;is
like&mdash;&mdash;my Heart aut of my Amours; <em>a la glace</em>. My
Bady, <em>Tam</em>, is a Watch; and my Heart is the Pendulum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
to it; whilst the Finger runs raund to every Hour in the
Circle, that still beats the same time.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Then you are seldom much in love?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Never, Stap my Vitals.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why then did you make all this Bustle
about <em>Amanda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Because she was a Woman of an insolent
Virtue, and I thought myself piqu'd in Honour to debauch
her.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Very well. [<em>Aside.</em>] Here's a rare Fellow
for you, to have the spending of Five Thousand
Pounds a-year. But now for my Business with him.
[<em>To Lord Fop.</em>] Brother, tho' I know to talk of Business
(especially of Money) is a Theme not quite so entertaining
to you as that of the Ladies, my Necessities are
such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> The greatness of your Necessities, <em>Tam</em>, is
the worst Argument in the Warld far your being patiently
heard. I do believe you are going to make a
very good Speech, but, strike me dumb, it has the worst
beginning of any Speech I have heard this Twelvemonth.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'm very sorry you think so.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I do believe thou art. But come, let's
know thy Affair quickly; for 'tis a new Play, and I shall
be so rumpled and squeezed with pressing thro' the
Crawd, to get to my Servant, the Women will think
I have lain all Night in my Clothes.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why then (that I may not be the Author
of so great a Misfortune) my Case in a Word is this:
The necessary Expences of my Travels have so much exceeded
the wretched Income of my Annuity, that I have
been forced to mortgage it for Five Hundred Pounds,
which is spent; so that unless you are so kind to assist me
in redeeming it, I know no Remedy but to take a Purse.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, Faith, <em>Tam</em>&mdash;&mdash;to give you my Sense
of the thing, I do think taking a Purse the best Remedy
in the Warld; for if you succeed, you are reliev'd that
way; if you are taken&mdash;&mdash;you are reliev'd t'other.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a
Humour, I hope I shall find the Effects on't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, do you then really think it a reasonable
thing I should give you Five Hundred Paunds?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I do not ask it as a Due, Brother, I am
willing to receive it as a Favour.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Thau art willing to receive it any haw,
strike me speechless. But these are damn'd times to give
Money in: Taxes are so great, Repairs so exorbitant,
Tenants such Rogues, and Perriwigs so dear, that the
Devil take me, I'm reduc'd to that extremity in my
Cash, I have been farc'd to retrench in that one Article
of sweet Pawder, till I have braught it dawn to Five
Guineas a Manth. Naw judge, <em>Tam</em>, whether I can
spare you Five hundred Paunds?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> If you can't, I must starve, that's all,
[<em>Aside.</em>] Damn him.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> All I can say is, you should have been a
better Husband.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand
a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Don't be in a Passion, <em>Tam</em>; far Passion is
the most unbecoming thing in the Warld&mdash;&mdash;to the Face.
Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make
you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take
leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does
require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature
has made some difference 'twixt you and I.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Yes, she has made you older. [<em>Aside.</em>]
Pox take her.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> That is nat all. <em>Tam</em>.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, what is there else?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Looking first upon himself, then upon his Brother.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Ask
the Ladies.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, thou Essence Bottle, thou Musk-Cat,
dost thou then think thou hast any Advantage
over me, but what Fortune has given thee?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I do&mdash;&mdash;stap my Vitals.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Now, by all that's great and powerful,
thou art the Prince of Coxcombs.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;I am praud of being at the Head of
so prevailing a Party.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Will nothing then provoke thee?&mdash;Draw,
Coward.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Look you, <em>Tam</em>, you know I have always
taken you for a mighty dull Fellow, and here is one of
the foolishest Plats broke out, that I have seen a long
time. Your Paverty makes your Life so burdensome
to you, you would provoke me to a Quarrel, in hopes
either to slip thro' my Lungs into my Estate, or to get
yourself run thro' the Guts, to put an end to your Pain.
But I will disappoint you in both your Designs; far with
the Temper of a Philasapher, and the Discretion of a
Statesman&mdash;I will go to the Play with my Sword in
my Scabbard.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lord Fop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> So! Farewel, Snuff-Box. And now, Conscience,
I defy thee. <em>Lory!</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Here's rare News, <em>Lory</em>; his Lordship
has given me a Pill has purg'd off all my Scruples.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Then my Heart's at ease again: For I have been
in a lamentable Fright, Sir, ever since your Conscience
had the Impudence to intrude into your Company.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Be at peace, it will come there no more:
My Brother has given it a wring by the Nose, and I have
kick'd it down Stairs. So run away to the Inn; get the
Horses ready quickly, and bring them to old <em>Coupler</em>'s,
without a Moment's Delay.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Then, Sir, you are going straight about the Fortune.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I am: away; fly, <em>Lory</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> The happiest Day I ever saw. I'm upon the
Wing already.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt several ways.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Garden</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span> and Servant</em>.
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Is my Wife within?</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> No, Sir, she has been gone out this
Half-hour.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> 'Tis well; leave me.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Solus.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sure Fate has yet some Business to be done,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Before <em>Amanda</em>'s Heart and mine must rest;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Else, why amongst those Legions of her Sex,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which throng the World,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shou'd she pick out for her Companion<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The only one on Earth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whom Nature has endow'd for her undoing?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Undoing was't, I said&mdash;&mdash;Who shall undo her?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is not her Empire fix'd? Am I not hers?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did she not rescue me, a groveling Slave,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When, chain'd and bound by that black Tyrant Vice,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I labour'd in his vilest Drudgery?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did she not ransom me, and set me free?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nay, more:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When by my Follies sunk<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To a poor tatter'd, despicable Beggar,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did she not lift me up to envy'd Fortune?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Give me herself, and all that she possest?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without a Thought of more Return,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than what a poor repenting Heart might make her,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Han't she done this? And if she has,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Am I not strongly bound to love her for it?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To love her&mdash;Why, do I not love her then?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By Earth and Heaven, I do!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nay, I have Demonstration that I do:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For I would sacrifice my Life to serve her.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet hold&mdash;&mdash;If laying down my Life<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Be Demonstration of my Love,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
<span class="i0">What is't I feel in favour of <em>Berinthia</em>?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For shou'd she be in danger, methinks, I cou'd incline<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To risk it for her Service too; and yet I do not love her.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How then subsists my Proof?&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">&mdash;O, I have found it out.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What I would do for one, is Demonstration of my Love;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And if I'd do as much for t'other: it there is Demonstration<br /></span>
<span class="i0">of my Friendship&mdash;&mdash;Ay&mdash;&mdash;it must be so. I find<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'm very much her Friend.&mdash;Yet let me ask myself one<br /></span>
<span class="i0">puzzling Question more:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whence springs this mighty Friendship all at once?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For our Acquaintance is of a later Date. Now Friendship's<br /></span>
<span class="i0">said to be a Plant of tedious Growth, its Root<br /></span>
<span class="i0">compos'd of tender Fibres, nice in their Taste, cautious<br /></span>
<span class="i0">in spreading, check'd with the least Corruption in the<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Soil, long ere it take, and longer still ere it appear to<br /></span>
<span class="i0">do so; whilst mine is in a Moment shot so high, and fix'd<br /></span>
<span class="i0">so fast, it seems beyond the Power of Storms to shake it.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I doubt it thrives too fast.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Musing.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">&mdash;Ah, she here!&mdash;Nay, then take heed, my Heart, for<br /></span>
<span class="i0">there are Dangers towards.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What makes you look so thoughtful, Sir? I hope
you are not ill.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I was debating, Madam, whether I was so or
not; and that was it which made me look so thoughtful.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought
all People had been acquainted with their own Bodies,
tho' few People know their own Minds.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> What if the Distemper, I suspect, be in the Mind?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a Cure.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Alas, you undertake you know not what.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> So far at least then allow me to be a Physician.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Nay, I'll allow you so yet farther: For I have
reason to believe, shou'd I put myself into your Hands,
you wou'd increase my Distemper.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Perhaps I might have Reasons from the College
not to be too quick in your Cure; but 'tis possible, I
might find ways to give you often Ease, Sir.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Were I but sure of that, I'd quickly lay my
Case before you.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Whether you are sure of it or no, what Risk
do you run in trying?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O, a very great one.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> How?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You might betray my Distemper to my Wife.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> And so lose all my Practice.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Will you then keep my Secret?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I will, if it don't burst me.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Swear.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I do.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> By what?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> By Woman.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> That's swearing by my Deity. Do it by your
own, or I shan't believe you.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> By Man then.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'm satisfy'd. Now hear my Symptoms, and
give me your Advice. The first were these:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">When 'twas my Chance to see you at the Play,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A random Glance you threw, at first alarm'd me,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I cou'd not turn my Eyes from whence the Danger came:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I gaz'd upon you, till you shot again,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then my Fears came on me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Heart began to pant, my Limbs to tremble,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Blood grew thin, my Pulse beat quick,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Eyes grew hot and dim, and all the Frame of Nature<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shook with Apprehension.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis true, some small Recruits of Resolution<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Manhood brought to my Assistance,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And by their Help I made a Stand a while,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But found at last your Arrows flew so thick,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They cou'd not fail to pierce me;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So left the Field,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And fled for shelter to <em>Amanda</em>'s Arms.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What think you of these Symptoms, pray?<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Feverish every one of 'em.
But what Relief pray did your Wife afford you?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Why, instantly she let me Blood, which for the
present much assuag'd my Flame. But when I saw you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
out it burst again, and rag'd with greater Fury than before.
Nay, since you now appear, 'tis so increas'd, that
in a Moment, if you do not help me, I shall, whilst you
look on, consume to Ashes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Taking hold of her Hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>Breaking from him.</em>] O Lard, let me go: 'Tis
the Plague, and we shall all be infected.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Catching her in his Arms, and kissing her.</em>] Then
we'll die together, my charming Angel.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Ged&mdash;&mdash;the Devil's in you.
Lard, let me go, here's somebody coming.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, my Lady's come home, and desires to speak
with you: She's in her Chamber.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Tell her I'm coming.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Serv.</em></p>

<p><em>To Ber.</em> But before I go, one Glass of Nectar more
to drink her Health.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens!</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> [<em>Kissing her.</em>] In Matters of Love, a Woman's
Oath is no more to be minded than a Man's.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Ha! What's here? my old Mistress, and so
close, I'faith! I wou'd not spoil her Sport for the Universe.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He retires.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Ged&mdash;&mdash;Now do I pray to Heaven, [<em>Exit
<span class="antiqua">Loveless</span> running.</em>] with all my Heart and Soul, that the
Devil in Hell may take me, if ever&mdash;&mdash;I was better
pleas'd in my Life&mdash;This Man has bewitch'd me, that's
certain. [<em>Sighing.</em>] Well, I am condemn'd, but, Thanks
to Heaven, I feel myself each Moment more and more
prepar'd for my Execution&mdash;Nay, to that degree, I don't
perceive I have the least fear of Dying. No, I find, let
the Executioner be but a Man, and there's nothing will
suffer with more Resolution than a Woman. Well, I never
had but one Intrigue yet: But I confess I long to
have another. Pray Heaven it end as the first did tho',
that we may both grow weary at a time; for 'tis a melancholy
thing for Lovers to outlive one another.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This Discovery's a lucky one, I hope to
make a happy use on't. That Gentlewoman there is no
Fool; so I shall be able to make her understand her Interest.
[<em>To</em> Ber.] Your Servant, Madam; I need not
ask you how you do, you have got so good a Colour.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> No better than I us'd to have, I suppose.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> A little more Blood in your Cheeks.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> The Weather's hot.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> If it were not, a Woman may have a Colour.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What do you mean by that?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Nothing.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why do you smile then?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Because the Weather's hot.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You'll never leave roguing, I see that.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> [<em>Putting his Finger to his Nose.</em>] You'll never
leave&mdash;&mdash;I see that.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Well, I can't imagine what you drive at. Pray
tell me what you mean?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Do you tell me, it's the same thing.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I can't.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Guess!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I shall guess wrong.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Indeed you won't.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Psha! either tell, or let it alone.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Nay, rather than let it alone, I will tell. But
first I must put you in mind that, after what has past
'twixt you and I, very few things ought to be Secrets
between us.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why what Secrets do we hide? I know of none.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Yes, there are two; one I have hid from you,
and t'other you wou'd hide from me. You are fond of
<em>Loveless</em>, which I have discover'd; and I am fond of his
Wife&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Which I have discover'd.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Very well; now I confess your Discovery to be
true, what do you say to mine?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, I confess&mdash;&mdash;I wou'd swear 'twere
false, if I thought you were Fool enough to believe me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Now am I almost in Love with you again. Nay,
I don't know but I might be quite so, had I made one
short Campaign with <em>Amanda</em>. Therefore, if you find
'twould tickle your Vanity, to bring me down once
more to your Lure, e'en help me quickly to dispatch her
Business, that I may have nothing else to do, but to
apply myself to yours.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Do you then think, Sir, I am old enough to be
a Bawd?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> No, but I think you are wise enough to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> To do what?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> To hoodwink <em>Amanda</em> with a Gallant, that she
mayn't see who is her Husband's Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] He has reason: The Hint's a good one.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Well, Madam, what think you on't?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I think you are so much a deeper Politician in
these Affairs than I am, that I ought to have a very
great regard to your Advice.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Then give me leave to put you in mind, that
the most easy, safe, and pleasant Situation for your own
Amour, is the House in which you now are; provided
you keep <em>Amanda</em> from any sort of Suspicion. That the
way to do that, is to engage her in an Intrigue of her
own, making yourself her Confidante. And the way to
bring her to intrigue, is to make her jealous of her
Husband in a wrong place; which the more you foment,
the less you'll be suspected. This is my Scheme, in short;
which if you follow as you shou'd do, (my dear <em>Berinthia</em>)
we may all four pass the Winter very pleasantly.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Well, I could be glad to have nobody's Sins to
answer for but my own. But where there is a Necessity&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Right! as you say, where there is a Necessity, a
Christian is bound to help his Neighbour. So, good
<em>Berinthia</em>, lose no time, but let us begin the Dance as
fast as we can.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Not till the Fiddles are in tune, pray, Sir. Your
Lady's Strings will be very apt to fly, I can tell you that,
if they are wound up too hastily. But if you'll have patience
to skrew them to a pitch by degrees, I don't doubt
but she may endure to be play'd upon.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Ay, and will make admirable Musick too, or
I'm mistaken; but have you had no private Closet Discourse
with her yet about Males and Females, and so
forth, which may give you hopes in her Constitution;
for I know her Morals are the Devil against us.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I have had so much Discourse with her, that I
believe were she once cur'd of her fondness to her Husband,
the Fortress of her Virtue wou'd not be so impregnable
as she fancies.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> What! she runs, I'll warrant you, into that
common Mistake of fond Wives, who conclude themselves
virtuous, because they can refuse a Man they
don't like, when they have got one they do.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> True, and there I think 'tis a presumptuous
thing in a Woman to assume the Name of Virtuous, till
she has heartily hated her Husband, and been soundly
in love with somebody else. Whom if she has withstood&mdash;then&mdash;much
good may it do her!</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Well, so much for her Virtue. Now, one word
of her Inclinations, and every one to their Post. What
Opinion do you find she has of me?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What you cou'd wish; she thinks you handsome
and discreet.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Good, that's thinking half Seas over. One
Tide more brings us into Port.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Perhaps it may, tho' still remember, there's a
difficult Bar to pass.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I know there is, but I don't question I shall get
well over it, by the help of such a Pilot.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You may depend upon your Pilot, she'll do the
best she can; so weigh Anchor, and be gone as soon as
you please.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I'm under Sail already. Adieu.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Wor</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> <em>Bon Voyage.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Sola.</em>
</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>So, here's fine Work. What a Business have I undertaken!
I'm a very pretty Gentlewoman, truly; but there
was no avoiding it: He'd have ruin'd me, if I had refus'd
him. Besides, faith, I begin to fancy there may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
as much pleasure in carrying on another body's Intrigue,
as one's own. This at least is certain, it exercises almost
all the entertaining Faculties of a Woman: For
there's employment for Hypocrisy, Invention, Deceit,
Flattery, Mischief, and Lying.</p></div>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>, her Woman following her.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em> If you please, Madam, only to say, whether
you'll have me to buy 'em or not.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yes, no, go fiddle; I care not what you do.
Pr'ythee leave me.</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em> I have done.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Wom.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What in the Name of <em>Jove</em>'s the matter with you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> The matter, <em>Berinthia</em>! I'm almost mad, I'm
plagu'd to death.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Who is it that plagues you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Who do you think shou'd plague a Wife, but
her Husband?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O ho, is it come to that? We shall have you
wish yourself a Widow by and by.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Wou'd I were any thing but what I am! A base
ungrateful Man, after what I have done for him, to use
me thus!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What, he has been ogling now, I'll warrant you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yes, he has been ogling.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> And so you are jealous? Is that all?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That all! Is jealousy then nothing?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> It shou'd be nothing, if I were in your Case.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, what wou'd you do?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I'd cure myself.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> How?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Let Blood in the fond Vein: Care as little for
my Husband as he did for me.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That would not stop his Course.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Nor nothing else, when the Wind's in the warm
Corner. Look you, <em>Amanda</em>, you may build Castles in
the Air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean,
and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no
Man worth having is true to his Wife, or can be true to
his Wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Do you then really think he's false to me? for
I did but suspect him.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Think so? I know he's so.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Is it possible? Pray tell me what you know.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Don't press me then to name Names; for that I
have sworn I won't do.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well, I won't; but let me know all you can
without Perjury.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I'll let you know enough to prevent any wise
Woman's dying of the Pip; and I hope you'll pluck up
your Spirits, and shew, upon occasion, you can be as
good a Wife as the best of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well, what a Woman, can do I'll endeavour.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O, a Woman can do a great deal, if once she
sets her mind to it. Therefore pray don't stand trifling
any longer, and teasing yourself with this and that, and
your Love and your Virtue, and I know not what. But
resolve to hold up your Head, get a tiptoe, and look
over them all; for to my certain knowledge your husband
is a pickering elsewhere.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You are sure on't?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Positively, he fell in love at the Play.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Right, the very same; do you know the ugly
thing?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Yes, I know her well enough; but she's no such
ugly thing, neither.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Is she very handsome?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Truly I think so.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Hey-ho!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What do you sigh for now?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Oh my Heart!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Only the Pangs of Nature! she's in Labour
of her Love; Heaven send her a quick Delivery!
I'm sure she has a good Midwife.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I'm very ill, I must go to my Chamber;
Dear <em>Berinthia</em>, don't leave me a Moment.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> No, don't fear. [<em>Aside.</em>] I'll see you safe
brought-to-bed, I'll warrant you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt, <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span> leaning upon <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Country-House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young</span> Fashion and <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> So, here's our Inheritance, <em>Lory</em>, if we
can but get into Possession. But, methinks,
the Seat of our Family looks like <em>Noah</em>'s Ark,
as if the chief part on't were design'd for the Fowls of
the Air, and the Beasts of the Field.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Pray, Sir, don't let your Head run upon the Orders
of Building here; get but the Heiress, let the Devil
take the House.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Get but the House, let the Devil take the
Heiress, I say; at least if she be as old <em>Coupler</em> describes
her. But come, we have no time to squander. Knock at
the Door. [Lory <em>knocks two or three times.</em>] What the Devil,
have they got no Ears in this House? Knock harder.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> I'gad, Sir, this will prove some inchanted Castle;
we shall have the Giant come out by and by with his
Club, and beat our Brains out.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Knocks again.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Hush! they come.</p>

<p><em>From within.</em>] Who is there?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Open the Door and see: Is that your Country
Breeding?</p>

<p><em>Within.</em> Ay, but two Words to a Bargain: <em>Tummus</em>,
is the Blunderbuss prim'd?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Oons, give 'em good Words, <em>Lory</em>; we
shall be shot here a Fortune-catching.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> I'gad, Sir, I think y'are in the right on't. Ho,
Mr. What d'ye-call-um.&mdash;[<em>Servant appears at the Window
with a Blunderbuss.</em>] Weal naw, what's yar Business?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Nothing, Sir, but to wait upon Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>,
with your leave.</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> To weat upon Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>? Why, you'll find
that's just as Sir <em>Tunbelly</em> pleases.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> But will you do me the Favour, Sir, to
know whether Sir <em>Tunbelly</em> pleases or not?</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> Why, look you, do you see, with good Words,
much may be done. <em>Ralph</em>, go thy weas, and ask Sir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
<em>Tunbelly</em> if he pleases to be waited upon. And, do'st
hear? call to Nurse, that she may lock up Miss <em>Hoyden</em>
before the Gates open.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> D'ye hear that, <em>Lory</em>?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Ay, Sir, I'm afraid we shall find a difficult Jobb
on't. Pray Heaven that old Rogue <em>Coupler</em> han't sent
us to fetch Milk out of the Gunroom!</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'll warrant thee all will go well: See;
the Door opens.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, with his Servants arm'd with
Guns, Clubs, Pitchforks, Scythes, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span></em>
</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> [<em>Running behind his Master.</em>] O Lord, O Lord, O
Lord, we are both dead Men!</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Take heed, Fool, thy Fear will ruin us.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> My Fear, Sir&mdash;'Sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing. [<em>Aside.</em>]
Wou'd I were well up to the Chin in a Horse-Pond!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Who is it here has any Business with me?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, 'tis I, if your Name be Sir <em>Tunbelly
Clumsey</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Sir, my Name is Sir <em>Tunbelly Clumsey</em>, whether
you have any Business with me or not. So you see
I am not asham'd of my Name&mdash;nor my Face&mdash;neither.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, you have no cause, that I know of.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Sir, if you have no cause neither, I desire to
know who you are; for till I know your Name, I shall
not ask you to come into my House; and when I know
your Name&mdash;'tis six to four I don't ask you neither.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Giving him a Letter.</em>] Sir, I hope you'll
find this Letter an Authentick Passport.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> God's my life, I ask your Lordship's Pardon
ten thousand times. [<em>To his Servant.</em>] Here, run
in a-doors quickly: Get a Scotch-Coal Fire in the
great Parlour; set all the Turkey-work-Chairs in their
places; get the great Brass Candlesticks out; and be sure
stick the Sockets full of Laurel; run. [<em>Turning to <span class="antiqua">Young
Fash</span>.</em>] My Lord, I ask your Lordship's pardon. [<em>To
other Servants.</em>] And do you hear, run away to Nurse,
bid her let Miss <em>Hoyden</em> loose again, and if it was not
shifting Day, let her put on a clean Tucker&mdash;quick!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Servants confusedly.</em></p>

<p><em>To</em> Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse the
disorder of my Family; we are not us'd to receive Men
of your Lordship's great Quality every day; pray where
are your Coaches and Servants, my Lord?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, that I might give you and your fair
Daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin
to you, I left my Equipage to follow me, and came
away Post with only one servant.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Your Lordship does me too much Honour.
It was exposing your Person to too much Fatigue and
Danger, I protest it was; but my Daughter shall endeavour
to make you what amends she can; and tho' I
say it, that shou'd not say it&mdash;<em>Hoyden</em> has Charms.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, I am not a Stranger to them, tho' I
am to her. Common Fame has done her Justice.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> My Lord, I am common Fame's very grateful
humble Servant. My Lord&mdash;&mdash;my Girl's young:
<em>Hoyden</em> is young, my Lord; but this I must say for her,
what she wants in Art, she has by Nature; what she
wants in Experience, she has in Breeding; and what's
wanting in her Age, is made good in her Constitution.
So pray, my Lord, walk in; pray, my Lord, walk in.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, I wait upon you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Miss <span class="antiqua">Hoyden</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>Sure never no body was us'd as I am. I know well
enough what other Girls do, for all they think to make
a Fool of me: It's well I have a Husband a coming, or
I'cod, I'd marry the Baker, I wou'd so. No body can
knock at the Gate, but presently I must be lockt up;
and here's the young Greyhound Bitch can run loose
about the House all the day long, she can; 'tis very
well.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Nurse <span class="antiqua">without</span>, opening the Door.</em>
</p>

<p class="center">Miss <em>Hoyden</em>! Miss, Miss, Miss! Miss <em>Hoyden</em>!
</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Well, what do you make such a Noise for, ha!
What do you din a body's Ears for? Can't one be at
quiet for you?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> What do I din your Ears for? Here's one
come will din your Ears for you.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> What care I who's come? I care not a Fig who
comes, nor who goes, as long as I shall be lockt up like
the Ale-Cellar.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> That, Miss, is for fear you shou'd be drank
before you are ripe.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O, don't you trouble your Head about that;
I'm as ripe as you, tho' not so mellow.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Very well; now I have a good mind to lock
you up again, and not let you see my Lord to-night.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> My Lord! Why, is my Husband come?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Yes, marry is he, and a goodly Person too.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> [<em>Hugging Nurse.</em>] O my dear <em>Nurse</em>, forgive, me
this once, and I'll never misuse you again; no, if I
do, you shall give me three thumps on the Back, and a
great pinch by the Cheek.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ah the poor Thing, see how it melts; it's as
full of Good-Nature as an Egg's full of Meat.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> But, my dear Nurse, don't lie now; is he
come, by your troth?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Yes, by my truly, is he.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O Lord! I'll go and put on my lac'd Smock,
tho' I am whipt till the Blood run down my Heels for't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit running.</em></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Eh&mdash;&mdash;the Lord succour thee, how thou art delighted!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit after her.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span> and <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>. A Servant
with Wine.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> My Lord, I'm proud of the Honour to see
your Lordship within my Doors: and I humbly crave
leave to bid you welcome in a Cup of Sack Wine.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, to your Daughter's Health.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drinks.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Ah poor Girl, she'll be fear'd out of her
Wits on her Wedding Night; for, honestly speaking,
she does not know a Man from a Woman, but by his
Beard, and his Breeches.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, I don't doubt she has had a virtuous
Education, which, with the rest of her Merit, makes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
me long to see her mine. I wish you wou'd dispense
with the Canonical Hour, and let it be this very Night.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> O not so soon, neither; that's shooting my
Girl before you bid her stand. No, give her fair warning,
we'll sign and seal to-night if you please; and this
Day seven-night&mdash;let the Jade look to her Quarters.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> This Day seven-night&mdash;&mdash;Why, what do
you take me for a Ghost, Sir? 'Slife, Sir, I'm made of
Flesh and Blood, and Bones and Sinews, and can no
more live a Week without your Daughter&mdash;than I can
live a Month with her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Oh, I'll warrant you, my Hero; young
Men are hot, I know, but they don't boil over at that
rate, neither; besides, my Wench's Wedding Gown is
not come home yet.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> O, no matter, Sir; I'll take her in her
Shift. [<em>Aside.</em>] A Pox of this old Fellow, he'll delay
the Business till my damn'd Star finds me out, and discovers
me. [<em>To Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun.</span></em>] Pray, Sir, let it be done without
Ceremony; 'twill save Money.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Money&mdash;&mdash;Save Money when <em>Hoyden</em>'s to
be marry'd? Udswoons, I'll give my Wench a Wedding-Dinner,
tho' I go to Grass with the King of <em>Assyria</em> for't;
and such a Dinner it shall be, as is not to be cook'd in
the poaching of an Egg. Therefore, my Noble Lord,
have a little Patience, we'll go and look over our Deeds
and Settlements immediately; and as for your Bride,
tho' you may be sharp-set before she's quite ready, I'll engage
for my Girl, she stays your Stomach at last.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-076.jpg" width="700" height="42" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_IV_SCENE_I2" id="ACT_IV_SCENE_I2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Miss <span class="antiqua">Hoyden</span> and <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, Miss, how do you like your Husband
that is to be?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O Lord, Nurse, I'm so overjoy'd, I can scarce
contain myself.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> O, but you must have a care of being too fond;
for Men now a-days hate a Woman that loves 'em.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Love him! Why do you think I love him,
Nurse? I'cod, I would not care if he were hang'd, so
I were but once married to him&mdash;&mdash;No&mdash;&mdash;that which
pleases me, is to think what Work I'll make when I get
to <em>London</em>; for when I am a Wife and a Lady both,
Nurse, I'cod, I'll flant it with the best of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Look, look, if his Honour be not a coming to
you; now if I were sure you wou'd behave yourself
handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought
you up, I'd leave you alone together.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> That's my best Nurse, do as you wou'd be
done by; trust us together this once; and if I don't shew
my Breeding from the Head to the Foot of me, may I
be twice married, and die a Maid!</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Well, this once I'll venture you; but if you
disparage me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Never fear, I'll shew him my Parts, I'll warrant him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Sola.</em>
</p>

<p>These old Women are so wise when they get a poor
Girl into their Clutches; but ere it be long, I shall
know what's what, as well as the best of 'em.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Your Servant, Madam, I'm glad to find
you alone; for I have something of Importance to speak
to you about.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Sir, (my Lord, I meant) you may speak to
me about what you please, I shall give you a civil Answer.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> You give me so obliging a one, it encourages
me to tell you in few Words, what I think both
for your Interest and mine. Your Father, I suppose you
know, has resolv'd to make me happy in being your
Husband, and I hope I may depend upon your Consent,
to perform what he desires.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Sir, I never disobey my Father in any thing but
eating of green Gooseberries.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> So good a Daughter must needs be an
admirable Wife; I am therefore impatient till you are
mine, and hope you will so far consider the Violence of
my Love, that you won't have the Cruelty to defer my
Happiness so long as your Father designs it.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Pray, my Lord, how long is it?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Madam, a thousand Year&mdash;&mdash;a whole
Week.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> A Week!&mdash;--why, I shall be an old Woman by
that time.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> And I an old Man, which you'll find
a greater Misfortune than t'other.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why I thought it was to be to-morrow Morning,
as soon as I was up; I'm sure Nurse told me so.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> And it shall be to-morrow Morning still,
if you'll consent.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey
you as my Husband.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> That's when we are married; till then,
I am to obey you.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why then if we are to take it by turns, it's the
same thing: I'll obey you now, and when we are married,
you shall obey me.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> With all my heart; but I doubt we must
get Nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with
the Chaplain.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> No more we shan't indeed, for he loves her better
than he loves his Pulpit, and wou'd always be a
preaching to her, by his good Will.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why then, my dear little Bedfellow, if
you'll call her hither, we'll try to persuade her presently.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O Lord, I can tell you a way how to persuade
her to any thing.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> How's that?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why tell her she's a wholesome, comely Woman&mdash;&mdash;and
give her Half a Crown.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Nay, if that will do, she shall have half
a score of 'em.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O Gemini, for half that she'd marry you herself:
I'll run and call her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Miss</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>So, Matters go swimmingly; this is a rare Girl,
i'faith; I shall have a fine time of it with her at <em>London</em>.
I'm much mistaken if she don't prove a <em>March</em> Hare all
the Year round. What a scampering Chace will she
make on't, when me finds the whole Kennel of Beaux at
her Tail! Hey to the <em>Park</em> and the Play, and the Church,
and the Devil; she'll shew them sport, I'll warrant
'em. But no matter, she brings an Estate will afford me
a separate Maintenance.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Miss</span> and <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> How do you do, good Mistress Nurse? I
desir'd your young Lady would give me leave to see you,
that I might thank you for your extraordinary Care and
Conduct in her Education; pray accept of this small
Acknowledgement for it at present, and depend upon
my farther Kindness, when I shall be that happy thing
her Husband.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Gold by mackins! Your Honour's
Goodness is too great: alas! all I can boast of is, I gave
her poor good Milk, and so your Honour wou'd have
said, an you had seen how the poor thing suck't it&mdash;&mdash;Eh,
God's blessing on the sweet Face on't! how it us'd
to hang at this poor Teat, and suck and squeeze, and
kick and sprawl it wou'd, till the Belly on't was so full,
it wou'd drop off like a Leech.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Miss</span> to <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>, taking her angrily aside.</em></p>

<p>Pray one word with you; pr'ythee, Nurse, don't stand
ripping up old Stories, to make one asham'd before one's
Love: do you think such a fine proper Gentleman as he
is, cares for a fiddlecome Tale of a draggle-tail'd Girl;,
if you have a mind to make him have a good Opinion
of a Woman, don't tell him what one did then, tell him
what one can do now. [<em>To</em> Young Fash.] I hope your
Honour will excuse my Mismanners to whisper before
you, it was only to give some orders about the Family.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> O every thing, Madam, is to give way
to Business; besides, good Housewifery is a very commendable
Quality in a young Lady.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Pray, Sir, are the young Ladies good Housewives
at London Town? Do they darn their own Linen?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> O no, they study how to spend Money,
not to save it.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, I don't know but that may be better
Sport than t'other, ha, Nurse!</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Well, you shall have your Choice when
you come there.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Shall I&mdash;&mdash;then by my troth I'll get there
as fast as I can.</p>

<p><em>To Nurse.</em>] His Honour desires you'll be so kind, as to
let us be marry'd to-morrow.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> To-morrow, my dear Madam?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Yes, to-morrow, sweet Nurse, privately;
young Folks, you know, are impatient, and Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>
wou'd make us stay a Week for a Wedding-Dinner.
Now all things being sign'd and seal'd, and agreed,
I fancy there cou'd be no great harm in practising a
Scene or two of Matrimony in private, if it were only
to give us the better Assurance when we come to play it
in publick.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Nay, I must confess stolen Pleasures are sweet;
but if you shou'd be married now, what will you do
when Sir <em>Tunbelly</em> calls for you to be wedded?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why then we will be married again.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> What, twice, my Child?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, I don't care how often I'm married,
not I.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Pray, Nurse, don't you be against your
young Lady's good; for by this means she'll have the
pleasure of two Wedding-Days.</p>

<p><em>Miss to Nurse softly.</em>] And of two Wedding-Nights
too, Nurse.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Well, I'm such a tender-hearted Fool, I find
I can refuse you nothing; so you shall e'en follow your
own Inventions.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Shall I? [<em>Aside.</em>] O Lord, I could leap over
the Moon.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Dear Nurse, this Goodness of yours
shan't go unrewarded; but now you must employ your
Power with Mr. <em>Bull</em> the Chaplain, that he may do his
friendly Office too, and then we shall be all happy; do
you think you can prevail with him?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Prevail with him&mdash;&mdash;or he shall never prevail
with me, I can tell him that.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> My Lord, she has had him upon the hip this
seven Year.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'm glad to hear it; however, to strengthen
your Interest with him, you may let him know I have
several fat Livings in my Gift, and that the first that
falls shall be in your Disposal.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Nay, then I'll make him marry more Folks,
than one, I'll promise him.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Faith, do, Nurse, make him marry you too;
I'm sure he'll do't for a fat Living; for he loves Eating
more than he loves his <em>Bible</em>; and I have often heard,
him say, a fat Living was the best Meat in the World.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ay, and I'll make him commend the Sauce
too, or I'll bring his Gown to a Cassock, I will so.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Well, Nurse, whilst you go and settle
Matters with him, your Lady and I will go and take a
walk in the Garden.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> I'll do your Honour's Business in the catching
up of a Garter.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Giving her his Hand.</em>] Come, Madam,
dare you venture yourself alone with me?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O dear, yes, Sir; I don't think you'll do any
thing to me I need be afraid on.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span> and <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i14">A SONG.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>I Smile at Love, and all its Arts,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>The Charming</em> Cynthia <em>cry'd;</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Take heed, for Love has piercing Darts,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>A wounded Swain reply'd.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Once free and blest as you are now,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I trifled with his Charms;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I pointed at his little Bow,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And sported with his Arms;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Till urg'd too far, Revenge he cries,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>A fated Shaft he drew;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It took its passage thro your Eyes,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And to my Heart it flew.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>To tear it thence I try'd in vain;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>To strive I quickly found</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was only to increase the Pain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And to enlarge the Wound.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ah! much too well, I fear, you know</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>What pain I'm to endure,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Since what your Eyes alone cou'd do,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Your Heart alone can cure.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And That (grant Heaven I may mistake)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I doubt is doom'd to bear</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Burden for another's sake,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Who ill rewards its Care.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well, now, <em>Berinthia</em>, I'm at leisure to hear
what 'twas you had to say to me.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What I had to say, was only to echo the Sighs
and Groans of a dying Lover.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Phu, will you never learn to talk in earnest of
any thing?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for
my part, I only tell you Matter of Fact&mdash;you may take
it which way you like best; but if you'll follow the Women
of the Town, you'll take it both ways; for when
a Man offers himself to one of them, first she takes him
in jest, and then she takes him in earnest.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in
what you say to me, I scarce know how to take it; but
I think you have bewitched me, for I don't find it possible
to be angry with you, say what you will.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I'm very glad to hear it, for I have no mind to
quarrel with you, for some Reasons that I'll not brag of;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
but quarrel or not, smile or frown, I must tell you what
I have suffer'd upon your account.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Upon my account!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Yes, upon yours; I have been forc'd to sit still
and hear you commended for two Hours together, without
one Compliment to myself; now don't you think a
Woman has a blessed time of that?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Alas! I shou'd have been unconcern'd at it; I
never knew where the Pleasure lay of being prais'd by
the Men: but pray who was this that commended me so?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> One you have a mortal Aversion to&mdash;Mr. <em>Worthy</em>:
he us'd you like a Text, he took you all to pieces,
but spoke so learnedly upon every Point, one might see
the Spirit of the Church was in him: if you are a Woman,
you'd have been in an Extasy to have heard how
feelingly he handled your Hair, your Eyes, your Nose,
your Mouth, your Teeth, your Tongue, your Chin,
your Neck, and so forth. Thus he preach'd for an Hour;
but when he came to use an Application, he observ'd
that all these, without a Gallant, were nothing&mdash;Now
consider of what has been said, and Heaven give you
Grace to put it in practice!</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Alas! <em>Berinthia</em>, did I incline to a Gallant,
(which you know I do not) do you think a Man so nice
as he, cou'd have the least concern for such a plain unpolish'd
thing as I am? It is impossible!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Now have you a great mind to put me upon
commending you.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Indeed that was not my Design.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Nay, if it were, it's all one, for I won't do't,
I'll leave that to your Looking-glass. But to shew you
I have some Good-nature left, I'll commend him, and
may be that may do as well.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You have a great mind to persuade me I am in
love with him.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I have a great mind to persuade you, you don't
know what you are in love with.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I am sure I am not in love with him, nor never
shall be; so let that pass: but you were saying something
you wou'd commend him for.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O, you'd be glad to hear a good Character of
him, however.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Psha.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Psha&mdash;&mdash;Well, 'tis a foolish Undertaking
for Women in these kind of Matters, to pretend to deceive
one another&mdash;&mdash;Have not I been bred a Woman
as well as you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> What then?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why then I understand my Trade so well, that
whenever I am told of a Man I like, I cry, Psha! But
that I may spare you the pains of putting me a second
time in mind to commend him, I'll proceed, and give you
this account of him: That tho' 'tis possible he may have
had Women with as good Faces as your Ladyship's, (no
Discredit to it neither) yet you must know your cautious
Behaviour, with that Reserve in your Humour, has given
him his Death's Wound; he mortally hates a Coquette;
he says 'tis impossible to love where he cannot esteem; and
that no Woman can be esteemed by a Man who has Sense,
if she makes herself cheap in the Eye of a Fool. That
Pride to a Woman, is as necessary as Humility to a Divine;
and that far-fetch'd, and dear bought, is Meat for
Gentlemen, as well as for Ladies&mdash;&mdash;In short, that every
Woman who has Beauty may set a price upon herself,
and that by under-selling the Market they ruin the
Trade. This is his Doctrine, how do you like it?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> So well that, since I never intend to have a
Gallant for myself, if I were to recommend one to a
Friend, he shou'd be the Man.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Bless me, he's here! pray Heaven he did not hear me!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> If he did, it won't hurt your Reputation; your
Thoughts are as safe in his Heart as in your own.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I venture in at an unseasonable time of Night,
Ladies; I hope if I am troublesome, you'll use the
same freedom in turning me out again.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I believe it can't be late, for Mr. <em>Loveless</em> is
not come home yet, and he usually keeps good Hours.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Madam, I'm afraid he'll transgress a little to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>-night;
for he told me about half an Hour ago, he was
going to sup with some Company, he doubted would
keep him out till three or four o'clock in the Morning,
and desir'd I would let my Servant acquaint you with it,
that you might not expect him: But my Fellow's a
Blunder-head; so, lest he should make some mistake, I
thought it my Duty to deliver the Message myself.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I'm very sorry he shou'd give you that trouble,
Sir: But&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> But since he has, will you give me leave, Madam,
to keep him to play at Ombre with us?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Cousin, you know you command my House.</p>

<p><em>Wor. to Ber.</em>] And, Madam, you know you command
me, tho' I'm a very wretched Gamester.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O you play well enough to lose your Money,
and that's all the Ladies require; so without any more
Ceremony, let us go into the next Room and call for
the Cards.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> With all my heart.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Wor</span>. leading <span class="antiqua">Aman</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber. sola.</em> Well, how this Business will end, Heaven
knows; but she seems to me to be in as fair a way&mdash;&mdash;as
a Boy is to be a Rogue, when he's put Clerk to an
Attorney.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, Berinthia's <em>Chamber</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span> cautiously in the dark.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> So, thus for all's well. I'm got into her Bed-Chamber,
and I think nobody has perceiv'd
me steal into the House; my Wife don't expect me home
till four o'Clock; so if <em>Berinthia</em> comes to Bed by eleven,
I shall have a Chace of five Hours. Let me see, where
shall I hide myself? Under her Bed? No; we shall have
her Maid searching there for something or other; her
Closet's a better place, and I have a Master-Key will
open it: I'll e'en in there, and attack her just when she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
comes to her Prayers, that's the most like to prove her
critical Minute; for then the Devil will be there to assist
me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He opens the Closet, goes in, and shuts the door after him.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span> with a Candle in her hand.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Well, sure I am the best-natur'd Woman in the
World. I that love Cards so well (there is but one thing
upon the Earth I love better) have pretended Letters to
write, to give my Friends a <em>Tête-à-Tête</em>; however, I'm
innocent, for Picquet is the Game I set 'em to: at her
own peril be it, if she ventures to play with him at any
other. But now what shall I do with myself? I don't
know how in the World to pass my time; wou'd <em>Loveless</em>
were here to <em>badiner</em> a little! Well, he's a charming Fellow,
I don't wonder his Wife's so fond of him. What if
I shou'd set down and think of him till I fall asleep, and
dream of the Lord knows what? O, but then if I shou'd
dream we were married, I shou'd be frighted out of my
Wits. [<em>Seeing a Book.</em>] What's this Book? I think I
had best go read. <em>O Splenetique!</em> 'tis a Sermon. Well,
I'll go into my Closet, and read the <em>Plotting Sisters</em>. [<em>She
opens the Closet, sees <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span>, and shrieks out.</em>] O Lord, a
Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span> running to her.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Peace, my Dear; it's no Ghost, take it in your
Arms, you'll find 'tis worth a hundred of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Run in again; here's somebody coming.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Maid.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Maid.</em> O Lord, Madam, what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Heav'ns! I'm almost frighted out of my
Wits. I thought verily I had seen a Ghost, and 'twas
nothing but the white Curtain, with a black Hood pinn'd
up against it; you may be gone again, I am the fearfullest
Fool.&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Maid.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Is the Coast clear?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> The Coast clear! I suppose you are clear, you'd
never play such a Trick as this else.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I am very well pleas'd with my Trick thus far,
and shall be so till I have play'd it out, if it ben't your
Fault: where's my Wife?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> At Cards.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> With whom?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> With <em>Worthy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Then we are safe enough.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You are so! Some Husbands wou'd be of another
mind, if he were at Cards with their Wives.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> And they'd be in the right on't too. But I dare
trust mine:&mdash;&mdash;Besides, I know he's in love in another
place, and he's not one of those who court half a dozen
at a time.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Nay, the truth on't is, you'd pity him if you
saw how uneasy he is at being engag'd with us; but
'twas my Malice. I fancy'd he was to meet his Mistress
some where else, so did it to have the pleasure of seeing
him fret.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> What says <em>Amanda</em> to my staying abroad so late?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why she's as much out of Humour as he, I believe
they wish one another at the Devil.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Then I'm afraid they'll quarrel at Play, and
soon throw up the Cards: [<em>Offering in pull her into her
Closet.</em>] Therefore, my dear charming Angel, let us
make good use of our time.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Heavens! what do you mean?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Pray what do you think I mean?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I don't know.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'll shew you.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> You may as well tell me.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> No, that wou'd make you blush worse than t'other.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, do you intend to make me blush?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Faith, I can't tell that; but if I do, it shall be
in the dark.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pulling her.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Heavens! I wou'd not be in the dark with
you for all the World.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> I'll try that.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Puts out the Candles.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O Lord! are you mad! What shall I do for Light?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You'll do as well without it.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, one can't find a Chair to sit down?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Come into the Closet, Madam, there's Moonshine
upon the Couch.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Nay, never pull, for I will not go.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Then you must be carried.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Carrying her.</em></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Help, help, I'm ravish'd, ruin'd, undone. O
Lord, I shall never be able to bear it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Very softly.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>'s House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Miss <span class="antiqua">Hoyden</span>, Nurse, <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Bull</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> This quick dispatch of yours, Mr.
<em>Bull</em>, I take so kindly, it shall give
you a claim to my Favour as long as I live, I do assure
you.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> And to mine too, I promise you.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> I most humbly thank your Honours; and I
hope, since it has been my Lot to join you in the holy
Bands of Wedlock, you will so well cultivate the Soil
which I have crav'd a Blessing on, that your Children
may swarm about you like Bees about a Honey-Comb.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod with all my Heart, the more the merrier,
I say; ha, Nurse.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>, taking his Master hastily aside.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> One Word with you, for Heaven's sake.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> What the Devil's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir, your Fortune's ruin'd, and I don't think your
Life's worth a quarter of an Hour's Purchase: Yonder's
your Brother arriv'd with two Coaches and six Horses,
twenty Footmen and Pages, a Coat worth fourscore
Pound, and a Perriwig down to his Knees: So judge
what will become of your Lady's Heart.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Death and Furies! 'tis impossible.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Fiends and Spectres! Sir, 'tis true.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Is he in the House yet?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> No, they are capitulating with him at the Gate;
the Porter tells him, he's come to run away with <em>Miss
Hoyden</em>, and has cock'd the Blunderbuss at him; your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
Brother swears Gad Damme, they are a parcel of Clawns,
and he had a good mind to break off the Match; but
they have given the Word for Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>, so I doubt
all will come out presently. Pray, Sir, resolve what
you'll do this Moment, for I'gad they'll maul you.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Stay a little. [<em>To Miss.</em>] My Dear, here's
a troublesome Business my Man tells me of; but don't be
frighten'd, we shall be too hard for the Rogue. Here's
an impudent Fellow at the Gate (not knowing I was
come hither <em>incognito</em>) has taken my Name upon him,
in hopes to run away with you.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O the Brazen-fac'd Varlet, it's well we are
married, or may be we might never have been so.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'gad, like enough: Pr'ythee,
dear Doctor, run to Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>, and stop him from
going to the Gate, before I speak with him.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> I fly, my good Lord&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Bull</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> An't please your Honour, my Lady and I had
best lock ourselves up till the Danger be over.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Ay, by all means.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Not so fast, I won't be lock'd up any more.
I'm marry'd.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Yes, pray my Dear do, till we have
seiz'd this Rascal.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Nay, if you pray me, I'll do any thing.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Miss</span> and <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> O! here's Sir <em>Tunbelly</em> coming. [<em>To</em> Lo.]
Hark you, Sirrah, things are better than you imagine;
the Wedding's over.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> The Devil it is, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Not a Word, all's safe: But Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>
don't know it, nor must not yet; so I am resolv'd
to brazen the Business out, and have the Pleasure of
turning the Impostor upon his Lordship, which I believe
may easily be done.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, <span class="antiqua">Chap.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Servants</span> arm'd.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Did you ever hear, Sir, of so impudent
an Undertaking?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Never, by the Mass, but we'll tickle him,
I'll warrant him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> They tell me, Sir, he has a great many
People with him disguis'd like Servants.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Ay, ay, Rogues enow; but I'll soon raise
the Posse upon 'em.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, if you'll take my Advice, we'll go a
shorter way to work; I find, whoever this Spark is, he
knows nothing of my being privately here; so if you
pretend to receive him civilly, he'll enter without Suspicion;
and as soon as he is within the Gate, we'll whip
up the Drawbridge upon his Back, let fly the Blunderbuss
to disperse the Crew, and so commit him to Gaol.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> I'gad, your Lordship is an ingenious Person,
and a very great General; but shall we kill any of 'em,
or not?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> No, no, fire over their Heads only to
fright them; I'll warrant the Regiment scours when
the Colonel's a Prisoner.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Then come along, my Boys, and let your
Courage be great&mdash;&mdash;for your Danger is but small.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>The Gate.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span> and <span class="antiqua">Followers</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <span class="fauxcap">A</span> Pax of these Bumkinly People, will they
open the Gate, or do they desire I
shou'd grow at their Moat-side like a Willow? [<em>To the
Porter.</em>] Hey, Fellow&mdash;Pr'ythee do me the Favour, in
as few words as thou canst find to express thyself, to tell
me whether thy Master will admit me or not, that I may
turn about my Coach, and be gone.</p>

<p><em>Por.</em> Here's my Master himself now at hand, he's of
Age, he'll give you his Answer.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, and his Servants.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> My most noble Lord, I crave your pardon
for making your Honour wait so long; but my Orders
to my servants have been to admit no body without my
Knowledge, for fear of some Attempts upon my Daughter,
the Times being full of Plots and Roguery.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Much Caution, I must confess, is a Sign
of great Wisdom: But, stap my Vitals, I have got a
Cold enough to destroy a Porter&mdash;He, hem&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> I am very sorry for't, indeed, my Lord;
but if your Lordship please to walk in, we'll help you
to some brown Sugar-Candy. My Lord, I'll shew you
the way.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, I follow you with pleasure.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>As Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span>'s Servants go to follow him
in, they clap the Door against <span class="antiqua">La Varole</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Servants within.</em> Nay, hold you me there, Sir.</p>

<p><em>La Var.</em> <em>Jernie, qu'est ce que veut dire ça?</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> [<em>Within.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Fire, Porter.</p>

<p><em>Porter fires.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Have among you, my Masters.</p>

<p><em>La Var.</em> <em>Ah je suis mort</em>&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>The servants all run off.</em></p>

<p><em>Port.</em> Not one Soldier left, by the Mass.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>changes into a Hall.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, the <span class="antiqua">Chaplain</span> and <span class="antiqua">Servants</span>, with
Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span> disarm'd.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Come, bring him along, bring him along.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> What the Pax do you mean,
Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before
Dinner?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue
for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the
Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Strolers!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself;
what's your Name? where do you live? Do you
pay Scot and Lot? Are you a <em>Williamite</em>, or a <em>Jacobite</em>?
Come.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent
Questions?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Because I'll make you answer 'em before I
have done with you, you Rascal you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Before Gad, all the Answer I can make
thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old
Fellow; stap my Vitals&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants,
we know how to deal with you: Here,
draw a Warrant for him immediately.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> A Warrant&mdash;&mdash;what the Devil is't thou
wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> I wou'd be at you, Sirrah, (if my Hands
were not ty'd as a Magistrate) and with these two double
Fists beat your Teeth down your Throat, you Dog
you.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> And why would'st thou spoil my Face at
that rate?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> For your Design to rob me of my Daughter,
Villain.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Rab thee of thy Daughter&mdash;&mdash;Now I do
begin to believe I am a-bed and a-sleep, and that all
this is but a Dream&mdash;If it be, 'twill be an agreeable
Surprize enough, to waken by and by; and instead of
the impertinent Company of a nasty Country Justice,
find my self perhaps in the Arms of a Woman of Quality&mdash;[<em>To
Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun.</span></em>] Pr'ythee, old Father, wilt thou give
me leave to ask thee one Question?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know
what it is.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not
write to my Lord <em>Foppington</em> to come down and marry
thy Daughter?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Yes, marry did I, and my Lord <em>Foppington</em>
is come down, and shall marry my Daughter before
she's a Day older.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Now give me thy Hand, dear Dad, I
thought we should understand one another at last.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> This Fellow's mad&mdash;&mdash;here bind him Hand
and Foot.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They bind him down.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy
Jest begins to grow dull.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Bind him, I say, he's mad&mdash;&mdash;Bread and
Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his
Senses again.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by
all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most
impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Miss</span> and <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em> [<em><span class="antiqua">Miss</span> going up to him.</em>]
</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Is this he that wou'd have run away with me?
Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him
be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This must be my Wife by her natural
Inclination to her Husband.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with
him? hang him?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> That at least, Child.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] <em>Madame la Governante</em>, I presume,
hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary
Families that ever Man of Quality match'd into.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> What's become of my Lord, Daughter?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> He's just coming, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] My Lord&mdash;&mdash;What does he mean
by that now?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span> and <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Seeing him.</em>] Stap my Vitals, <em>Tam</em>, now the Dream's out.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Is this the Fellow, Sir, that design'd to
trick me of your Daughter?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> This is he, my Lord, how do you like him?
Is not he a pretty Fellow to get a Fortune?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I find by his Dress, he thought your
Daughter might be taken with a Beau.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O Gemini! Is this a Beau? let me see him
again&mdash;&mdash;ha! I find a Beau is no such ugly thing
neither.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I'gad, she'll be in love with him presently;
I'll e'en have him sent away to Gaol. [<em>To</em> Lord Fop.]
Sir, tho' your Undertaking shews you are a Person of
no extraordinary Modesty, I suppose you han't Confidence
enough to expect much Favour from me.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Strike me dumb, <em>Tam</em>, thou art a very
impudent Fellow.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Look if the Varlet has not the Frontery to call
his Lordship plain <em>Thomas</em>.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> The business is, he wou'd feign himself mad,
to avoid going to Gaol.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] That must be the Chaplain, by his
unfolding of Mysteries.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Come, is the Warrant writ?</p>

<p><em>Cler.</em> Yes, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Give me the Pen, I'll sign it&mdash;&mdash;So now,
Constable, away with him.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Hold one Moment&mdash;&mdash;Pray, Gentlemen;
my Lord <em>Foppington</em>, shall I beg one Word with your
Lordship?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> O ho, it's my Lord with him now; see how
Afflictions will humble Folks.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Pray, my Lord, don't let him whisper too
close, lest he bite your Ear off.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em>. I am not altogether so hungry, as your
Ladyship is pleased to imagine. [<em>To</em> Young Fash.] Look
you, <em>Tam</em>, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you
as I ought, but I hope you'll forget what's past, and
accept of the five thousand Pounds I offer; thou may'st
live in extreme Splendor with it; stap my Vitals.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> It's a much easier matter to prevent a
Disease than to cure it; a quarter of that Sum would
have secur'd your Mistress; twice as much won't redeem
her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Leaving him.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Well, what says he?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Only the Rascal offer'd me a Bribe to let
him go.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Ay, he shall go, with a Pox to him: Lead
on, Constable.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em>. One word more, and I've done.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Before Gad, thou art an impudent Fellow,
to trouble the Court at this rate, after thou art condemned;
but speak once for all.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why then once for all; I have at last
luckily call'd to mind, that there is a Gentleman of this
Country, who I believe cannot live far from this place,
if he were here, would satisfy you, I am <em>Novelty</em>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
Baron of <em>Foppington</em>, with five thousand Pounds a year,
and that Fellow there a Rascal, not worth a Groat.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Very well; now who is this honest Gentleman
you are so well acquainted with. [<em>To</em> Young Fash.]
Come, Sir, we shall hamper him.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> 'Tis Sir <em>John Friendly</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> So, he lives within half a Mile, and came
down into the Country but last Night; this bold-fac'd
Fellow thought he had been at <em>London</em> still, and so
quoted him; now we shall display him in his Colours:
I'll send for Sir <em>John</em> immediately. Here, Fellow, away
presently; and desire my Neighbour he'll do me
the favour to step over, upon an extraordinary Occasion;
and in the mean while you had best secure this
Sharper in the <em>Gate-House</em>.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> An't please your Worship, he may chance to
give us the Slip thence: If I were worthy to advise, I
think the Dog-kennel's a surer Place.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> With all my heart, anywhere.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Nay, for Heaven's sake, Sir, do me the favour
to put me in a clean Room, that I mayn't daub
my Clothes.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> O when you have married my Daughter, her
Estate will afford you new ones: Away with him.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> A dirty Country Justice is a barbarous Magistrate,
stap my Vitals&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Constable with Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I gad I must prevent this Knight's
coming, or the House will grow soon too hot to hold me.</p>

<p><em>To</em> Sir <em>Tun.</em>] Sir, I fancy 'tis not worth while to trouble
Sir <em>John</em> upon this impertinent Fellow's Desire: I'll
send and call the Messenger back&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Nay, with all my heart; for to be sure he
thought he was far enough off, or the Rogue wou'd never
have nam'd him.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, I met Sir <em>John</em> just lighting at the Gate;
he's come to wait upon you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Nay, then it happens as one cou'd wish.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] The Devil it does! <em>Lory</em>, you see
how things are, here will be a Discovery presently, and
we shall have our Brains beat out: For my Brother will
be sure to swear he don't know me: Therefore run into
the Stable, take the two first Horses you can light on, I'll
slip out at the Back-Door, and we'll away immediately.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> What, and leave your Lady, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> There's no Danger in that, as long as I
have taken possession; I shall know how to treat with
them well enough, if once I am out of their reach.
Away, I'll steal after thee.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>, his Master follows
him out at one Door, as Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> enters at t'other.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Sir <em>John</em>, you are the welcom'st Man alive;
I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon
a very extraordinary Occasion&mdash;we are all in Arms
here.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> How so?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Why, you must know&mdash;&mdash;a sinical sort of a
tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is,
not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded
between my Lord <em>Foppington</em> and my Girl <em>Hoyden</em>, comes
impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of
Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his
Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly
at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat,
strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches
a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> So, but how do you know but this was my
Lord? for I was told he set out from <em>London</em> the Day before
me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come
directly hither.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Why now to shew you how many Lies People
raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago
Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House
with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet;
this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels
among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country,
quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
were here, you'd justify him to be Lord <em>Foppington</em>, and
I know not what.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> Pray will you let me see him?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Ay, that you shall presently&mdash;&mdash;here, fetch
the Prisoner.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Servant.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> I wish there ben't some Mistake in the Business,
where's my Lord? I know him very well.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> He was here just now; see for him, Doctor,
tell him Sir <em>John</em> is here to wait upon him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. Chaplain.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> I hope, Sir <em>Tunbelly</em>, the young Lady is not
married yet.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> No, things won't be ready this Week; but
why do you say, you hope she is not married?</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> Some foolish Fancies only, perhaps I'm
mistaken.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter Chaplain.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Sir, his Lordship is just rid out to take the Air.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> To take the Air! Is that his <em>London</em> Breeding,
to go to take the Air, when Gentlemen come to visit him?</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> 'Tis possible he might want it, he might not
be well, some sudden Qualm perhaps.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Constable, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span> with Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Stap my Vitals, I'll have Satisfaction.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> [<em>Running to him.</em>] My dear Lord <em>Foppington</em>!</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Dear <em>Friendly</em>, thou art come in the critical
Minute, strike me dumb.</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> Why, I little thought to have found you in
Fetters.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why truly the World must do me the justice
to confess, I do use to appear, a little more <em>degagé</em>:
But this old Gentleman, not liking the Freedom of my
Air, has been pleased to skewer down my Arms like a
Rabbit.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true
Lord <em>Foppington</em> at last?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Why what do you see in his Face to make
you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary
Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you
would not think it impossible a Person of a worse <em>Taille</em>
than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck
dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice
will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue
this <em>Tartar</em>, bring him back&mdash;&mdash;Away, I say, a Dog,
Oons&mdash;&mdash;I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw
out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head&mdash;&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;what
shall I do more?</p>

<p>Sir <em>John.</em> He does indeed deserve to be made an Example
of.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> He does deserve to be <em>chartrè</em>, stap my Vitals.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> May I then hope I have your Honour's Pardon?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, we Courtiers do nothing without a
Bribe; that fair young Lady might do Miracles.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> <em>Hoyden</em>, come hither, <em>Hoyden</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> <em>Hoyden</em> is her Name, Sir?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Yes, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> The prettiest Name for a Song I ever heard.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> My Lord&mdash;&mdash;here's my Girl, she's yours, she
has a wholesome Body, and virtuous Mind; she's a
Woman complete, both in Flesh and in Spirit; she has
a Bag of mill'd Crowns, as scarce as they are, and fifteen
hundred a-year flitch'd fast to her Tail: so go thy ways,
<em>Hoyden</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, I do receive her like a Gentleman.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Then I'm a happy Man, I bless Heaven, and
if your Lordship will give me leave, I will, like a good
Christian at <em>Christmas</em>, be very drunk by way of Thanksgiving.
Come, my noble Peer, I believe Dinner's ready;
if your Honour pleases to follow me, I'll lead you
on to the Attack of a Venison Pasty.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun.</span></em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Sir, I wait upon you: Will your Ladyship
do me the favour of your little Finger, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> My Lord, I'll follow you presently. I have a
little Business with my Nurse.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Your Ladyship's most humble Servant;
come, Sir <em>John</em>, the Ladies have <em>des Affaires</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Lord Fop</span>. and Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> So, Nurse, we are finely brought to bed! What
shall we do now?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ah, dear Miss, we are all undone! Mr. <em>Bull</em>,
you were us'd to help a Woman to a Remedy.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Crying.</em></p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> A lack a-day, but it's past my Skill now, I can
do nothing.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Who wou'd have thought that ever your Invention
shou'd have been drain'd so dry?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and
now I'm sure they are so; I have found a way myself
to secure us all.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Dear Lady, what's that?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why, if you two will be sure to hold your
Tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en
marry this Lord too.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> What! two Husbands, my Dear?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Why you had three, good Nurse, you may hold
your Tongue.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ay, but not all together, sweet Child.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Psha, if you had, you'd ne'er thought much
on't.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> O but 'tis a Sin&mdash;Sweeting.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Nay, that's my business to speak to, Nurse. I
do confess, to take two Husbands for the Satisfaction of
the Flesh, is to commit the Sin of Exorbitancy; but to
do it for the Peace of the Spirit, is no more than to be
drunk by way of Physick: Besides, to prevent a Parent's
Wrath, is to avoid the Sin of Disobedience; for when
the Parent's angry the Child is froward. So that upon
the whole Matter, I do think, tho' Miss shou'd marry
again, she may be sav'd.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, and I will marry again then, and so there
is an end of the Story.</p>


<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-099.jpg" width="700" height="680" alt="" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-100.jpg" width="700" height="43" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_V_SCENE_London2" id="ACT_V_SCENE_London2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>London</em>.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Coupler</span>, <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, and so Sir <em>John</em> coming in&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> And so Sir <em>John</em> coming in,
I thought it might be Manners in me to go out, which I
did, and getting on Horseback as fast as I cou'd, rid
away as if the Devil had been at the Rear of me; what
has happen'd since, Heav'n knows.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I'gad, Sirrah, I know as well as Heaven.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> What do you know?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> That you are a Cuckold.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> The Devil I am! By who?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> By your Brother.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> My Brother! which way?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> The old way, he has lain with your Wife.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Hell and Furies, what dost thou mean?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I mean plainly, I speak no Parable.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Plainly! Thou dost not speak common
Sense, I cannot understand one Word thou sayst.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> You will do soon, Youngster. In short, you left
your Wife a Widow, and she married again.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> It's a Lye.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em>&mdash;&mdash;I'cod, if I were a young Fellow, I'd
break your Head, Sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Dear Dad, don't be angry, for I'm as mad
as <em>Tom <span class="antiqua">of</span> Bedlam</em>.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> When I had fitted you with a Wife, you shou'd
have kept her.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> But is it possible the young Strumpet
cou'd play such a Trick?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> A young Strumpet, Sir&mdash;&mdash;can play twenty
Tricks.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> But pr'ythee instruct me a little farther;
whence comes thy Intelligence!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> From your Brother, in this Letter; there, you
may read it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span> reads.</em></p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>
Dear <em>Coupler</em>,<br />
</p>

<p>[Pulling off his Hat,] <em><span class="fauxcap">I</span> Have only time to tell thee in three Lines,
or thereabouts, that here has been the Devil!
That Rascal <span class="antiqua">Tam</span>, having stole the Letter thou hadst
formerly writ for me to bring to Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, form'd a
damnable Design upon my Mistress, and was in a fair way
of Success when I arriv'd. But after having suffer'd some
Indignities (in which I have all daub'd my embroider'd Coat)
I put him to flight. I sent out a Party of Horse after him,
in hopes to have made him my Prisoner, which if I had done,
I would have qualified him for the Seraglio, stap my Vitals.
The Danger I have thus narrowly 'scap'd, has made me
fortify myself against further Attempts, by entering immediately
into an Association with the young Lady, by which we
engage to stand by one another, as long as we both shall
live. In short, the Papers are seal'd, and the Contract is sign'd,
so the Business of the Lawyer is <span class="antiqua">achevé</span>; but I defer the divine
part of the thing till I arrive at <span class="antiqua">London</span>, not being
willing to consummate in any other Bed but my own.</em></p>

<p>
Postscript,<br />
</p>

<p><em>'Tis possible I may be in the Tawn as soon as this Letter;
for I find the Lady is so violently in love with me, I have
determin'd to make her happy with all the Dispatch that is
practicable, without disardering my Coach Harses.</em></p>
</div>
<p>So, here's rare Work, I'faith!</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> I'gad, Miss <em>Hoyden</em> has laid about her bravely.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I think my Country-Girl has play'd her part, as
well as if she had been born and bred in St. <em>James</em>'s Parish.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em>&mdash;&mdash;That Rogue the Chaplain.</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> And then that Jade the Nurse, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> And then that drunken Sot, <em>Lory</em>, Sir;
that cou'd not keep himself sober to be a Witness to the
Marriage.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;with respect&mdash;&mdash;I know very few drunken
Sots that do keep themselves sober.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Hold your prating, Sirrah, or I'll break
your Head; dear <em>Coupler</em>, what's to be done?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Nothing's to be done till the Bride and Bridegroom
come to Town.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Bride and Bridegroom! Death and Furies!
I can't bear that thou shouldst call them so.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Why, what shall I call them, Dog and Cat?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Not for the World, that sounds more
like Man and Wife than t'other.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Well, if you'll hear of them in no Language,
we'll leave them for the Nurse and the Chaplain.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> The Devil and the Witch.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> When they come to Town&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> We shall have stormy Weather.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Will you hold your tongues, Gentlemen, or not?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Mum.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I say when they, come, we must find what Stuff
they are made of, whether the Churchman be chiefly
compos'd of the Flesh, or the Spirit; I presume the former&mdash;&mdash;For
as Chaplains now go, 'tis probable he
eats three Pound of Beef to the reading one Chapter&mdash;&mdash;This
gives him carnal Desires, he wants Money,
Preferment, Wine, a Whore; therefore we must invite
him to Supper, give him fat Capons, Sack and Sugar, a
Purse of Gold, and a Plump Sister. Let this be done, and
I'll warrant thee, my Boy, he speaks Truth like an Oracle.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Thou art a profound Statesman, I allow
it; but how shall we gain the Nurse?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> O never fear the Nurse, if once you have got
the Priest, for the Devil always rides the Hag. Well,
there's nothing more to be said of the Matter at this
time, that I know of; so let us go and enquire, if there's
any News of our People yet, perhaps they may be come.
But let me tell you one thing by the way, Sirrah, I doubt
you have been an idle Fellow; if thou hadst behav'd
thyself as thou shoud'st have done, the Girl wou'd never
have left thee.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em><span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>'s Apartment.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter her <span class="antiqua">Maid</span>, passing the Stage, follow'd by <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Hem, Mrs. <em>Abigail</em>, is your Mistress to be
spoken with?</p>

<p><em>Ab.</em> By you, Sir, I believe she may.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Why 'tis by me I wou'd have her spoken with.</p>

<p><em>Ab.</em> I'll acquaint her, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Ab</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Worthy</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>One Lift more I must persuade her to give me, and
then I'm mounted. Well, a young Bawd, and a handsome
one for my Money, 'tis they do the Execution; I'll
never go to an old one, but when I have occasion for a
Witch. Lewdness looks heavenly to a Woman, when an
Angel appears in its Cause; but when a Hag is Advocate,
she thinks it comes from the Devil. An old Woman
has something so terrible in her Looks, that whilst she
is persuading your Mistress to forget she has a Soul, she
stares Hell and Damnation full in her Face.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Well, Sir, what News bring you?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> No News, Madam, there's a Woman going to
cuckold her Husband.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> <em>Amanda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I hope so.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Speed her well.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Ay, but there must be a more than a God-speed,
or your Charity won't be worth a Farthing.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, han't I done enough already?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Not quite.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> The Lady has a Scruple still which you must remove.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Her Virtue&mdash;&mdash;she says.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> And do you believe her?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> No, but I believe it's what she takes for her Virtue;
it's some Relicks of lawful Love: she is not yet
fully satisfy'd her Husband has got another Mistress,
which unless I can convince her of, I have opened the
Trenches in vain; for the Breach must be wider, before
I dare storm the Town.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> And so I'm to be your Engineer!</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I'm sure you know best how to manage the
Battery.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What think you of springing a Mine? I have a
Thought just now come into my Head, how to blow her
up at once.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> That would be a Thought, indeed!</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Faith, I'll do't, and thus the Execution of it
shall be. We are all invited to my Lord <em>Foppington</em>'s to-night
to Supper, he's come to Town with his Bride, and
maketh a Ball, with an Entertainment of Musick. Now
you must know, my Undoer here, <em>Loveless</em>, says he must
needs meet me about some private Business (I don't
know what 'tis) before we go to the Company. To
which end he has told his Wife one Lye, and I have
told her another. But to make her amends, I'll go immediately,
and tell her a solemn Truth.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, I'll tell her, that to my certain Knowledge
her Husband has a Rendezvous with his Mistress this Afternoon;
and that if she'll give me her Word, she will
be satisfy'd with the Discovery, without making any
violent Inquiry after the Woman, I'll direct her to a
Place, where she shall see them meet.&mdash;Now, Friend, this
I fancy may help you to a critical Minute. For home
she must go again to dress. You, with your good-breeding,
come to wait upon us to the Ball, find her all alone,
her Spirit enflam'd against her Husband for his Treason,
and her Flesh in a Heat from some Contemplations upon
the Treachery, her Blood on a Fire, her Conscience in
ice; a Lover to draw, and the Devil to drive&mdash;&mdash;Ah,
poor <em>Amanda</em>!</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> [<em>Kneeling.</em>] Thou Angel of Light, let me fall
down and adore thee!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Thou Minister of Darkness, get up again, for I
hate to see the Devil at his Devotions.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Well, my incomparable <em>Berinthia</em>&mdash;&mdash;How
shall I requite you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O ne'er trouble yourself about that: Virtue is its
own Reward: There's a Pleasure in doing good, which
sufficiently pays itself. Adieu.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Farewel, thou best of Women.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt several ways.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>, meeting <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Who was that went from you?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> A Friend of yours.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> What does he want?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Something you might spare him, and be ne'er
the poorer.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I can spare him nothing but my Friendship;
my Love already's all dispos'd of: Tho', I confess, to one
ungrateful to my Bounty.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why there's the Mystery! You have been so
bountiful, you have cloy'd him. Fond Wives do by their
Husbands, as barren Wives do by their Lap-Dogs; cram
them with Sweetmeats till they spoil their Stomachs.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Alas! Had you but seen how passionately fond
he has been since our last Reconciliation, you wou'd have
thought it were impossible he ever should have breath'd
an Hour without me.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Ay but there you thought wrong again, <em>Amanda</em>;
you shou'd consider, that in Matters of Love Men's Eyes
are always bigger than their Bellies. They have violent
Appetites, 'tis true, but they have soon din'd.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well; there's nothing upon Earth astonishes
me more than Men's Inconstancy.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Now there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me less,
when I consider what they and we are compos'd of. For
Nature has made them Children, and us Babies. Now,
<em>Amanda</em>, how we us'd our Babies, you may remember.
We were mad to have them, as soon as we saw them;
kiss'd them to pieces, as soon as we got them; then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
pull'd off their Clothes, saw them naked, and so threw
them away.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But do you think all Men are of this Temper?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> All but one.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Who's that?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> <em>Worthy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, he's weary of his Wife too, you see.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Ay, that's no Proof.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> What can be a greater?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Being weary of his Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Don't you think 'twere possible he might give
you that too?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Perhaps he might, if he were my Gallant; not
if he were your's.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why do you think he shou'd be more constant
to me, than he wou'd to you? I'm sure I'm not so handsome.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Kissing goes by Favour; he likes you best.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Suppose he does; That's no Demonstration he
wou'd be constant to me.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> No, that I'll grant you: But there are other Reasons
to expect it; for you must know after all, <em>Amanda</em>,
the Inconstancy we commonly see in Men of Brains, does
not so much proceed from the Uncertainty of their Temper,
as from the Misfortunes of their Love. A Man sees,
perhaps, an hundred Women he likes well enough for an
Intrigue, and away; but possibly, thro' the whole Course
of his Life, does not find above one, who is exactly what
he could wish her: now her, 'tis a thousand to one, he
never gets. Either she is not to be had at all (tho' that
seldom happens, you'll say) or he wants those Opportunities
that are necessary to gain her; either she likes
somebody else much better than him, or uses him like a
Dog, because he likes no body so well as her. Still
something or other Fate claps in the way between them
and the Woman they are capable of being fond of. And
this makes them wander about from Mistress to Mistress,
like a Pilgrim from Town to Town, who every Night
must have a fresh lodging, and 's in haste to be gone in
the Morning.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Tis possible there may be something in what
you say; but what do you infer from it, as to the Man
we were talking of?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, I infer, that you being the Woman in the
World the most to his Humour, 'tis not likely he would
quit you for one that is less.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> That is not to be depended upon, for you see
Mr. <em>Loveless</em> does so.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> What does Mr. <em>Loveless</em> do?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Why, he runs after something for Variety,
I'm sure he does not like so well as he does me.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> That's more than you know, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> No, I'm sure on't: I am not very vain, <em>Berinthia</em>;
and yet I'll lay my Life, if I could look into
his Heart, he thinks I deserve to be prefer'd to a thousand
of her.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Don't be too positive in that neither: A Million
to one, but she has the same Opinion of you. What
wou'd you give to see her?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Hang her, dirty Trull; tho' I really believe
she's so ugly, she'd cure me of my Jealousy.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> All the Men of Sense about Town say she's
handsome.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> They are as often out in those things as any
People.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Then I'll give you further Proof&mdash;&mdash;all the Women
about Town say, she's a Fool: Now I hope you
are convinc'd?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Whate'er she be, I'm satisfy'd he does not like
her well enough to bestow any thing more than a little
outward Gallantry upon her.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Outward Gallantry!&mdash;--[<em>Aside.</em>] I can't bear this.
[<em>To Aman.</em>] Don't you think she's a Woman to be
fobb'd off so. Come, I'm too much your Friend, to suffer
you should be thus grossly impos'd upon, by a Man
who does not deserve the least part about you, unless he
knew how to set a greater Value upon it. Therefore in
one word, to my certain knowledge, he is to meet her
now, within a quarter of an Hour, somewhere about that
<em>Babylon</em> of Wickedness, <em>Whitehall</em>. And if you'll give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
me your Word that you'll be content with seeing her
mask'd in his Hand, without pulling her Headclothes
off, I'll step immediately to the Person, from whom I
have my Intelligence, and send you word whereabouts
you may stand to see 'em meet. My Friend and I'll
watch 'em from another place, and dodge 'em to their
private Lodging: But don't you offer to follow 'em, lest
you do it awkwardly, and spoil all. I'll come home to
you again, as soon as I have earth'd 'em, and give
you an account in what corner of the House the Scene
of their Lewdness lies.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> If you can do this, <em>Berinthia</em>, he's a Villain.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> I can't help that, Men will be so.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Well! I'll follow your Directions; for I shall
never rest till I know the worst of this matter.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Pray, go immediately, and get yourself ready
then. Put on some of your Woman's Clothes, a great
Scarf and a Mask, and you shall presently receive Orders.
[<em>Calls within.</em>] Here, who's there? get me a Chair
quickly.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> There are Chairs at the Door, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> 'Tis well, I'm coming.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But pray, <em>Berinthia</em>, before you go, tell me
how I may know this filthy Thing, if she would be so
forward (as I suppose she will) to come to the Rendezvous
first; for, methinks, I would fain view her a little.</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> Why, she's about my heighth; and very well
shap'd.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I thought she had been a little crooked?</p>

<p><em>Ber.</em> O no, she's as straight as I am. But we lose
time, come away.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fashion</span>, meeting <span class="antiqua">Lory</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Well, will the Doctor come?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Sir, I sent a Porter to him as you order'd me.
He found him with a Pipe of Tobacco and a great
Tankard of Ale, which he said he wou'd dispatch while
I cou'd tell three, and be here.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> He does not suspect 'twas I that sent for him?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Not a Jot, Sir, he divines as little for himself, as
he does for other Folks.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Will he bring Nurse with him?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> That's well; where's <em>Coupler</em>?</p>

<p><em>Lo.</em> He's half way up the Stairs taking Breath; he
must play his Bellows a little, before he can get to the top.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Coupler</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> O here he is. Well, old Phthisick, the
Doctor's coming.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Wou'd the Pox had the Doctor&mdash;&mdash;I'm quite
out of Wind [<em>To Lo.</em>] Set me a Chair, Sirrah. Ah&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Sits
down.</em>] [<em>To Young Fash.</em>] Why the Plague can'st not
thou lodge upon the Ground-Floor?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Because I love to lie as near Heaven as I
can.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Pr'ythee let Heaven alone; ne'er affect tending
that way: Thy Center's downwards.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash</em>. That's impossible. I have too much ill
Luck in this World, to be damn'd in the next.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Thou art out in thy Logick. Thy Major is
true, but thy Minor is false; for thou art the luckiest
Fellow in the Universe.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash</em>. Make out that.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I'll do't: Last Night the Devil ran away with
the Parson of <em>Fat-goose</em> Living.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> If he had run away with the Parish too,
what's that to me?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> I'll tell thee what it's to thee. This Living is
worth five hundred Pound a-year, and the Presentation
of it is thine, if thou can'st prove thyself a lawful Husband
to Miss <em>Hoyden</em>.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Say'st thou so, my Protector! then I'gad
I shall have a Brace of Evidences here presently.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> The Nurse and the Doctor?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> The same: The Devil himself won't
have Interest enough to make them withstand it.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> That we shall see presently: Here they come.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span> and <span class="antiqua">Chaplain</span>; they start back, seeing <span class="antiqua">Young
Fashion</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ah Goodness, <em>Roger</em>, we are betray'd.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Laying hold on them.</em>] Nay, nay, ne'er
flinch for the matter; for I have you safe. Come to
your Trials immediately; I have no time to give you
Copies of your Indictment. There sits your Judge.&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Both kneeling.</em> Pray, Sir, have Compassion on us.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> I hope, Sir, my Years will move your Pity;
I am an aged Woman.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> That is a moving Argument, indeed!</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> [<em>To Bull.</em>] Are not you a rogue of Sanctity?</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Sir, with respect to my Function, I do wear a
Gown. I hope, Sir, my Character will be consider'd;
I am Heaven's Ambassador.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Did not you marry this vigorous young Fellow
to a plump young buxom Wench?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> [<em>To Bull.</em>] Don't confess, <em>Roger</em>, unless you are
hard put to it, indeed?</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Come, out with't&mdash;Now is he chewing the Cud
of his Roguery, and grinding a Lye between his Teeth.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I cannot positively say&mdash;&mdash;I say,
Sir&mdash;&mdash;positively I cannot say&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Come, no Equivocation, no Roman Turns upon
us. Consider thou stand'st upon Protestant Ground,
which will slip from under thee like a <em>Tyburn</em> Car; for
in this Country we have always ten Hangmen for one
Jesuit.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> [<em>To Young Fash.</em>] Pray, Sir, then will you but
permit me to speak one word in private with Nurse?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Thou art always for doing something in
private with Nurse.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> But pray let his Betters be serv'd before him
for once. I would do something in private with her
myself; <em>Lory</em>, take care of this Reverend Gownman in
the next Room a little. Retire, Priest. [<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lo</span>. with
<span class="antiqua">Bull</span>.</em>]&mdash;Now, Virgin, I must put the matter home to
you a little: Do you think it might not be possible to
make you speak Truth?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Alas! Sir, I don't know what you mean by
Truth.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Nay,'tis possible thou may'st be a Stranger to it.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Come, Nurse, you and I were better
Friends when we saw one another last; and I still believe
you are a very good Woman in the bottom. I did deceive
you and your young Lady, 'tis true, but I always
design'd to make a very good Husband to her, and to be
a very good Friend to you. And 'tis possible in the end,
she might have found herself happier and you richer, than
ever my Brother will make you.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Brother! Why is your Worship then his Lordship's
Brother!</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> I am; which you should have known, if
I durst have staid to have told you; but I was forc'd to
take Horse a little in haste, you know.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> You were, indeed, Sir: poor young Man, how
he was bound to scaure for't. Now won't your Worship
be angry, if I confess the Truth to you; when I found
you were a Cheat (with respect be it spoken) I verily believ'd
Miss had got some pitiful Skip-Jack Varlet or
other to her Husband, or I had ne'er let her think of
marrying again.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> But where was your Conscience all this while,
Woman? Did not that stare you in the Face with huge
Saucer-eyes, and a great Horn upon the Forehead? Did
not you think you should be damn'd for such a Sin?
Ha!</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Well said, Divinity, press that home upon
her.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Why, in good truly, Sir, I had some fearful
Thoughts on't, and cou'd never be brought to consent,
till Mr. <em>Bull</em> said it was a <em>Peckadilla</em>, and he'd secure my
Soul for a Tythe-Pig.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> There was a Rogue for you.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> And he shall thrive accordingly: He shall have
a good Living. Come, honest <em>Nurse</em>, I see you have
Butter in your Compound; you can melt. Some Compassion
you can have of this handsome young Fellow.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> I have, indeed, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why, then, I'll tell you what you shall do
for me. You know what a warm Living here is fallen;
and that it must be in the Disposal of him who has the
Disposal of Miss. Now if you and the Doctor will agree
to prove my Marriage, I'll present him to it, upon condition
he makes you his Bride.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Naw the Blessing of the Lord follow your
good Worship both by Night and by Day! Let him be
fetch'd in by the Ears; I'll soon bring his Nose to the
Grindstone.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Well said, old Whit-Leather. Hey;
bring in the Prisoner there.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lory</span> with <span class="antiqua">Bull</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Come, advance, holy Man! Here's your Duck
does not think fit to retire with you into the Chancel at
this time; but she has a Proposal to make to you in the
Face of the Congregation. Come, <em>Nurse</em>, speak for
yourself; you are of Age.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> <em>Roger</em>, are not you a wicked Man, <em>Roger</em>, to
set your Strength against a weak Woman, and persuade
her it was no Sin to conceal Miss's Nuptials? My Conscience
flies in my Face for it, thou Priest of <em>Baal</em>; and
I find by woful Experience, thy Absolution is not worth
an old Cassock: therefore I am resolved to confess the
Truth to the whole World, tho' I die a Beggar for it.
But his Worship overflows with his Mercy, and his
Bounty: He is not only pleas'd to forgive us our Sins,
but designs thou sha't squat thee down in <em>Fat-goose</em> Living;
and, which is more than all, has prevail'd with me
to become the Wife of thy Bosom.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> All this I intend for you, Doctor. What
you are to do for me, I need not tell you.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Your Worship's Goodness is unspeakable: Yet
there is one thing seems a Point of Conscience; and
Conscience is a tender Babe. If I shou'd bind myself,
for the sake of this Living, to marry <em>Nurse</em>, and maintain
her afterwards, I doubt it might be look'd on as a
kind of Simony.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> [<em>Rising up.</em>] If it were Sacrilege, the Living's
worth it: Therefore no more Words, good Doctor: but
with the [<em>Giving <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span> to him.</em>] Parish&mdash;&mdash;here&mdash;&mdash;take
the Parsonage-house. 'Tis true, 'tis a little out of Repair;
some Dilapidations there are to be made good;
the Windows are broke, the Wainscot is warp'd, the
Ceilings are peel'd, and the Walls are crack'd; but a
little Glasing, Painting, White-wash, and Plaster, will
make it last thy time.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Well, Sir, if it must be so, I shan't contend:
What Providence orders, I submit to.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> And so do I, with all Humility.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Why, that now was spoke like good People.
Come, my Turtle-Doves, let us go help this poor Pigeon
to his wandering Mate again: and after Institution and
Induction, you shall all go a-cooing together.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>, in a Scarf, &amp;c. as just returned, her
Woman following her.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Pr'ythee, what care I who has been here?</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em> Madam, 'twas my Lady <em>Bridle</em>, and my Lady
<em>Tiptoe</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> My Lady <em>Fiddle</em>, and my Lady <em>Faddle</em>. What
dost stand troubling me with the Visits of a parcel of
impertinent Women? When they are well seam'd with
the Small Pox, they won't be so fond of shewing their
Faces&mdash;&mdash;There are more Coquettes about this Town&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em> Madam, I suppose, they only came to return
your Ladyship's Visit, according to the Custom of the
World.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Wou'd the World were on Fire, and you in
the middle on't! Be gone: leave me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Wom.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Amanda</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">At last I am convinc'd. My Eyes are Testimonies of his Falshood.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The base, ungrateful, perjur'd Villain&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Good Gods&mdash;What slippery Stuff are Men compos'd of!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sure the Account of their Creation's false,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And 'twas the Woman's Rib that they were form'd of.<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
<span class="i0">But why am I thus angry?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This poor Relapse shou'd only move my Scorn.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis true, the roving Flights of his unfinish'd Youth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Had strong Excuses from the Plea of Nature:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Reason had thrown the Reins loose on his Neck,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And slipt him to unlimited Desire.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If therefore he went wrong, he had a Claim<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To my Forgiveness, and I did him right.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But since the Years of Manhood rein him in,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Reason, well digested into Thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has pointed out the Course he ought to run;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If now he strays,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twou'd be as weak and mean in me to pardon,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As it has been in him t' offend. But hold:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis an ill Cause indeed, where nothing's to be said for't.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Beauty possibly is in the Wain:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perhaps Sixteen has greater Charms for him:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yes, there's the Secret. But let him know,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Quiver's not entirely empty'd yet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I still have Darts, and I can shoot 'em too;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They're not so blunt, but they can enter still;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Want's not in my Power, but in my Will.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Virtue's his Friend; or, thro' another's Heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I yet cou'd find the way to make his smart.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going off, she meets <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>.</em></p>

<p>Ha! He here? Protect me, Heaven, for this looks
ominous.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> You seem disorder'd, Madam; I hope there's
no Misfortune happen'd to you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> None that will long disorder me, I hope.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Whate'er it be disturbs you, I wou'd to Heaven
'twere in my Power to bear the Pain, till I were able to
remove the Cause.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I hope ere long it will remove itself. At least,
I have given it warning to be gone.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Wor.</em> Wou'd I durst ask, Where 'tis the Thorn torments you?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Forgive me, if I grow inquisitive;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis only with desire to give you Ease.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Alas! 'tis in a tender Part. It can't be drawn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
without a World of Pain: Yet out it must; for it begins
to fester in my Heart.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> If 'tis the Sting of unrequited Love, remove it
instantly: I have a Balm will quickly heal the Wound.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> You'll find the Undertaking difficult: The Surgeon
who already has attempted it, has much tormented
me.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> I'll aid him with a gentler Hand&mdash;if you will
give me leave.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> How soft soe'er the Hand may be, there still
is Terror in the Operation.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Some few Preparatives would make it easy,
could I persuade you to apply 'em. Make Home Reflections,
Madam, on your slighted Love: Weigh well
the Strength and Beauty of your Charms: Rouse up
that Spirit Women ought to bear, and slight your God,
if he neglects his Angel. With Arms of Ice receive his
cold Embraces, and keep your Fire for those who come
in Flames. Behold a burning Lover at your Feet, his
Fever raging in his Veins. See how he trembles, how
he pants! See how he glows, how he consumes! Extend
the Arms of Mercy to his Aid: his Zeal may give
him Title to your Pity, altho' his Merit cannot claim
your Love.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Of all my feeble Sex, sure I must be the
weakest, shou'd I again presume to think on Love.
[<em>Sighing.</em>]&mdash;Alas! my Heart has been too roughly
treated.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> 'Twill find the greater Bliss in softer Usage.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> But where's that Usage to be found?</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> 'Tis here, within this faithful Breast; which if
you doubt, I'll rip it up before your Eyes; lay all its
Secrets open to your View; and then you'll see 'twas
sound.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> With just such honest Words as these, the worst
of Men deceiv'd me.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> He therefore merits all Revenge can do: his
Fault is such, the Extent and Stretch of Vengeance cannot
reach it. O make me but your Instrument of Jus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>tice;
you'll find me execute it with such Zeal, as shall
convince you I abhor the Crime.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> The Rigour of an Executioner has more the
Face of Cruelty than Justice: And he who puts the
Cord about the Wretch's Neck, is seldom known to exceed
him in his Morals.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> What Proof then can I give you of my Truth?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> There is on Earth but one.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> And is that in my Power?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> It is: And one that would so thoroughly convince
me, I should be apt to rate your Heart so high, I
possibly might purchase't with a part of mine.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Then, Heav'n, thou art my Friend, and I am
blest; for if 'tis in my Power, my Will I'm sure will
reach it. No matter what the Terms may be, when
such a Recompence is offer'd. O tell me quickly what
this Proof must be! What is it will convince you of my
Love?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I shall believe you love me as you ought, if
from this Moment, you forbear to ask whatever is unfit
for me to grant.&mdash;&mdash;You pause upon it, Sir&mdash;&mdash;I
doubt on such hard Terms, a Woman's Heart is scarcely
worth the having.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> A Heart like yours, on any Terms is worth it;
'twas not on that I paus'd: But I was thinking [<em>Drawing
nearer to her.</em>] whether some things there may not be,
which Women cannot grant without a Blush, and yet
which Men may take without Offence. [<em>Taking her
Hand.</em>] Your Hand I fancy may be of the Number: O
pardon me, if I commit a Rape upon it, [<em>Kissing it eagerly.</em>]
and thus devour it with my Kisses!</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> O Heavens! let me go.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Never, whilst I have Strength to hold you here.
[<em>Forcing her to sit down on a Couch.</em>] My Life, my Soul,
my Goddess&mdash;&mdash;O forgive me!</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> O whither am I going? Help, Heaven, or I
am lost.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Stand neuter, Gods, this once I do invoke you.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Then, save me, Virtue, and the Glory's thine.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Nay, never strive.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> I will; and conquer too. My Forces rally
bravely to my Aid, [<em>Breaking from him.</em>] and thus I gain
the Day.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Then mine as bravely double their Attack.
[<em>Seizing her again.</em>] And thus I wrest it from you. Nay,
struggle not; for all's in vain: On Death or victory;
I am determin'd.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> And so am I. [<em>Rushing from him.</em>] Now keep
your distance, or we part for ever.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> [<em>Offering again.</em>] For Heaven's sake&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> [<em>Going.</em>] Nay then, farewel.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> [<em>Kneeling and holding by her Clothes.</em>] O stay,
and see the Magick Force of Love: Behold this raging
Lion at your Feet, struck dead with Fear, and tame
as Charms can make him. What must I do to be forgiven
by you?</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Repent, and never more offend.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Repentance for past Crimes is just and easy;
but sin no more's a Task too hard for Mortals.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Yet those who hope for Heaven, must use their
best Endeavours to perform it.</p>

<p><em>Wor.</em> Endeavours we may use, but Flesh and Blood
are got in t'other Scale; and they are pond'rous things.</p>

<p><em>Aman.</em> Whate'er they are, there is a Weight in Resolution
sufficient for their Balance. The Soul, I do confess,
is usually so careless of its Charge, so soft, and so
indulgent to Desire, it leaves the Reins in the wild
Hand of Nature, who, like a <em>Phaeton</em>, drives the fiery
Chariot, and sets the World on Flame. Yet still the
Sovereignty is in the Mind, whene'er it pleases to exert
its Force. Perhaps you may not think it worth your
while to take such mighty pains for my Esteem; but
that I leave to you.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You see the Price I set upon my Heart;  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Perhaps 'tis dear: But spite of all your Art,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll find on cheaper Terms we ne'er shall part.  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Worthy</span> solus</em>.
</p>

<p>Sure there's Divinity about her; and she'as dispens'd
some portion on't to me. For what but now was the
wild Flame of Love, or (to dissect that specious Term)
the vile, the gross Desires of Flesh and Blood, is in a
Moment turn'd to Adoration. The coarser Appetite of
Nature's gone, and 'tis, methinks, the Food of Angels
I require: how long this Influence may last, Heaven
knows. But in this Moment of my Purity, I cou'd on
her own Terms accept her Heart. Yes, lovely Woman,
I can accept it. For now 'tis doubly worth my Care.
Your Charms are much increas'd, since thus adorn'd.
When Truth's extorted from us, then we own the Robe
of Virtue is a graceful Habit.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cou'd Women but our secret Counsels scan,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cou'd they but reach the deep Reserves of Man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They'd wear it on, that That of Love might last;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For when they throw off one, we soon the other cast.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their Sympathy is such&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Fate of one, the other scarce can fly&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They live together, and together die.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Miss</span> and <span class="antiqua">Nurse</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> But is it sure and certain, say you, he's my
Lord's own Brother?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> As sure, as he's your lawful Husband.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, if I had known that in time, I don't
know but I might have kept him; For, between you
and I, Nurse, he'd have made a Husband worth two of
this I have. But which do you think you shou'd fancy
most, Nurse?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Why, truly, in my poor fancy, Madam, your
first Husband is the prettier Gentleman.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I don't like my Lord's Shapes, Nurse.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Why in good truly, as a body may say, he is
but a Slam.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> What do you think now he puts me in mind of?
Don't you remember a long, loose, shambling sort of a
Horse my Father call'd <em>Washy</em>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> As like as two Twin-Brothers.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, I have thought so a hundred times:
'Faith, I'm tired of him.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Indeed, Madam, I think you had e'en as good
stand to your first Bargain.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O but, Nurse, we han't considered the main
thing yet. If I leave my Lord, I must leave my Lady
too: and when I rattle about the Streets in my Coach,
they'll only say, there goes Mistress&mdash;&mdash;Mistress&mdash;&mdash;Mistress
what? What's this Man's Name, I have married,
Nurse?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> 'Squire <em>Fashion</em>.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> 'Squire <em>Fashion</em> is it?&mdash;&mdash;Well, 'Squire, that's
better than nothing: Do you think one cou'd not get
him made a Knight, Nurse?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> I don't know but one might, Madam, when
the King's in a good Humour.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> I'cod, that wou'd do rarely. For then he'd be
as good a Man as my Father, you know.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> By'r Lady, and that's as good as the best of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> So 'tis, faith; for then I shall be my Lady, and
your Ladyship at every Word, that's all I have to care
for. Ha, Nurse! But hark you me, one thing more,
and then I have done. I'm afraid, if I change my Husband
again, I shan't have so much Money to throw about,
Nurse.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> O, enough's as good as a Feast: Besides, Madam,
one don't know, but as much may fall to your
share with the younger Brother, as with the elder. For
tho' these Lords have a power of Wealth, indeed; yet as
I have heard say, they give it all to their Sluts and their
Trulls, who joggle it about in their Coaches, with a
Murrain to 'em, whilst poor Madam sits sighing and wishing,
and knotting and crying, and has not a spare Half-Crown
to buy her a <em>Practice of Piety</em>.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> O, but for that, don't deceive yourself, Nurse.
For this I must [<em>Snapping her Fingers.</em>] say for my Lord,
and a&mdash;&mdash;for him: He's as free as an open House at
<em>Christmas</em>. For this very Morning he told me, I shou'd
have two hundred a-year to buy Pins. Now, Nurse, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
he gives me two hundred a-year to buy Pins, what do
you think he'll give me to buy fine Petticoats?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Ah, my Dearest, he deceives these faully, and
he's no better than a Rogue for his pains. These <em>Londoners</em>
have got a Gibberidge with them, would confound
a Gipsey. That which they call Pin-money, is
to buy their Wives every thing in the varsal World,
down to their very Shoe-tyes? Nay, I have heard Folks
say, That some Ladies, if they will have Gallants, as
they call 'em, are forc'd to find them out of their Pin-money
too.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Has he serv'd me so, say ye?&mdash;&mdash;Then I'll be
his Wife no longer, that's fixt. Look, here he comes,
with all the fine Folks at 's heels. I'cod, Nurse, these
<em>London</em> Ladies will laugh till they crack again, to see
me slip my Collar, and run away from my Husband.
But, d'ye hear? Pray take care of one thing: When
the Business comes to break out, be sure you get between
me and my Father, for you know his Tricks; he'll
knock me down.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> I'll mind him, ne'er fear, Madam.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Foppington</span>, <span class="antiqua">Loveless</span>, <span class="antiqua">Worthy</span>, <span class="antiqua">Amanda</span>,
and <span class="antiqua">Berinthia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Ladies and Gentlemen, you are all welcome.
[<em>To</em> Lov.] <em>Loveless</em>&mdash;&mdash;That's my Wife; pr'ythee
do me the favour to salute her: And do'st hear, [<em>Aside to
him.</em>] if thau hast a mind to try thy Fartune, to be reveng'd
of me, I won't take it ill, stap my Vitals.</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> You need not fear, Sir, I'm too fond of my
own Wife, to have the least Inclination for yours.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>All salute Miss.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'd give a thausand Paund he wou'd
make Love to her, that he may see she has sense enough
to prefer me to him, tho' his own Wife has not: [<em>Viewing
him.</em>]&mdash;He's a very beastly Fellow, in my Opinion.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] What a Power of fine Men there are in
this <em>London</em>! He that kist me first, is a goodly Gentleman,
I promise you: Sure those Wives have a rare
time on't, that live here always.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Tunbelly</span>, with Musicians, Dancers, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span></em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Come, come in, good People, come in; come,
tune your Fiddles, tune your Fiddles.</p>

<p><em>To the Hautboys.</em>] Bag-pipes, make ready there. Come,
strike up.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sings.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>For this is <span class="antiqua">Hoyden</span>'s Wedding-day;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And therefore we keep Holy-day,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And come to be merry.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Ha! there's my Wench, I'faith: Touch and take, I'll
warrant her; she'll breed like a tame Rabbit.</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'cod, I think my Father's gotten drunk
before Supper.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Lov</span>. and <span class="antiqua">Wor</span>.</em>] Gentlemen, you are welcome.
[<em>Saluting <span class="antiqua">Aman</span>. and <span class="antiqua">Ber</span>.</em>] Ladies, by your leave.
Ha&mdash;&mdash;They bill like Turtles. Udsookers, they set
my old Blood a-fire; I shall cuckold some body before
Morning.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>To Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun</span>.</em>] Sir, you being Master of the
Entertainment, will you desire the Company to sit?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Oons, Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I'm the happiest Man on this
side the <em>Ganges</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This is a mighty unaccountable old
Fellow. [<em>To Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun</span>.</em>] I said, Sir, it wou'd be convenient
to ask the Company to sit.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Sit&mdash;&mdash;with all my heart: Come, take your
places, Ladies; take your places, Gentlemen: Come,
sit down, sit down; a Pox of Ceremony, take your
places.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They sit, and the Mask begins.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter">Dialogue between <em>Cupid</em> and <em>Hymen</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cupid. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 1.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Thou Bane to my Empire, thou Spring of Contest,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Thou Source of all Discord, thou Period to Rest;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Instruct me what Wretches in Bondage can see,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That the Aim of their Life is still pointed to thee.</em><br /></span>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hymen. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 2.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Instruct me, thou little impertinent God,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>From whence all thy Subjects have taken the Mode</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To grow fond of a Change, to whatever it be,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And I'll tell thee why those wou'd be bound, who are free.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i24">Chorus.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>For Change, we're for Change, to whatever it be,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We are neither contented with Freedom nor Thee.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Constancy's an empty Sound,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Heaven, and Earth, and all go round,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>All the Works of Nature move,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And the Joys of Life and Love</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>Are in Variety.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Cupid. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 3.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Were Love the Reward of a pains-taking Life,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Had a Husband the Art to be fond of his Wife;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Were Virtue so plenty, a Wife cou'd afford,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>These very hard Times, to be true to her Lord;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some specious Account might be given of those</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Who are ty'd by the Tail, to be led by the Nose.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">4.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>But since 'tis the Fate of a Man and his Wife,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To consume all their Days in Contention and Strife:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Since whatever the Bounty of Heaven may create her,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He's morally sure he shall heartily hate her;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I think 'twere much wiser to ramble at large,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And the Volleys of Love on the Herd to discharge.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hymen. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 5.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Some colour of Reason thy Counsel might bear,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Cou'd a Man have no more than his Wife to his share;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Or were I a Monarch so cruelly just,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To oblige a poor Wife to be true to her Trust;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But I have not pretended, for many Years past,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By marrying of People, to make 'em grow chaste.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">6.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>I therefore advise thee to let me go on,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Thou'd find I'm the Strength and Support of thy Throne;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For hadst thou but Eyes, thou wouldst quickly perceive it,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>How smoothly the Dart</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Slips into the Heart</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Of a Woman that's Wed;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Whilst the shivering Maid</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Stands trembling, and wishing, but dare not receive it.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i24">Chorus.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i8"><em>For Change,</em> &amp;c.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directcenter"><em>The Mask ended, enter <span class="antiqua">Young Fash</span>, <span class="antiqua">Coupler</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Bull</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> So, very fine, very fine, i'faith; this is
something like a Wedding; now if Supper were but
ready, I'd say a short Grace; and if I had such a Bedfellow
as <em>Hoyden</em> to night&mdash;&mdash;I'd say as short Prayers.</p>

<p><em>Seeing Young Fash.</em> How now&mdash;&mdash;what have we got
here? A Ghost? Nay, it must be so; for his Flesh and
Blood cou'd never have dar'd to appear before me. [<em>To
him.</em>] Ah, Rogue&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Stap my Vitals, <em>Tam</em> again?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> My Lord, will you cut his Throat? Or shall I?</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Leave him to me, Sir, if you please.
Pr'ythee, <em>Tam</em>, be so ingenuous now, as to tell me what
thy Business is here?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> 'Tis with your Bride.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Thau art the impudent'st Fellow that Nature
has yet spawn'd into the Warld, strike me speechless.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Why you know my Modesty wou'd have
starv'd me; I sent it a-begging to you, and you wou'd
not give it a Groat.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> And dost thau expect by an excess of Assurance
to extart a Maintenance fram me?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>Taking Miss by the Hand.</em>] I do intend to
extort your Mistress from you, and that I hope will prove
one.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I ever thaught <em>Newgate</em> or <em>Bedlam</em> wou'd
be his Fartune, and naw his Fate's decided. Pr'ythee,
<em>Loveless</em>, dost knaw of ever a Mad Doctor hard by?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> There's one at your Elbow will cure you
presently.</p>

<p><em>To Bull.</em> Pr'ythee, Doctor, take him in hand quickly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Shall I beg the Favour of you, Sir, to pull
your Fingers out of my Wife's Hand?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> His Wife! Look you there; now I hope
you are all satisfy'd he's mad.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Naw is it not impassible far me to penetrate
what Species of Fally it is thou art driving at?</p>

<p><em>Sir Tun.</em> Here, here, here, let me beat out his Brains,
and that will decide all.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> No, pray, Sir, hold, we'll destray him presently
according to Law.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>To</em> Bull.] Nay, then advance, Doctor:
come, you are a Man of Conscience, answer boldly to
the Questions I shall ask: Did not you marry me to
this young Lady, before ever that Gentleman there saw
her Face?</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Since the Truth must out, I did.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Nurse, sweet Nurse, were not you a Witness
to it?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Since my Conscience bids me speak&mdash;&mdash;I was.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> [<em>To Miss.</em>] Madam, am not I your lawful
Husband?</p>

<p><em>Miss.</em> Truly I can't tell, but you married me first.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Now I hope you are all satisfy'd?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> [<em>Offering to strike him, is held by <span class="antiqua">Lov</span>. and <span class="antiqua">Wor</span>.</em>]
Oons and Thunder, you lye.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Pray, Sir, be calm, the Battle is in Disarder,
but requires more Canduct than Courage to rally our
Forces. Pray, Dactar, one word with you.</p>

<p><em>To</em> Bull [<em>Aside.</em>] Look you, Sir, tho' I will not presume
to calculate your Notions of Damnation, fram the
Description you give us of Hell, yet since there is at
least a passibility you may have a Pitchfark thrust in
your Backside, methinks, it shou'd not be worth your
while to risk your Saul in the next Warld, for the sake
of a beggarly yaunger Brather, who is nat able to make
your Bady happy in this.</p>

<p><em>Bull.</em> Alas! my Lord, I have no worldly Ends; I
speak the Truth, Heaven knows.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> Nay, pr'ythee, never engage Heaven in the
matter; far, by all I can see, 'tis like to prove a Business
for the Devil.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Come, pray, Sir, all above-board, no corrupting
of Evidences; if you please, this young Lady
is my lawful Wife, and I'll justify it in all the Courts of
<em>England</em>; so your Lordship (who always had a Passion
for Variety) may go seek a new Mistress, if you
think fit.</p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> I am struck dumb with his Impudence, and
cannot passitively tell whether ever I shall speak again,
or nat.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Then let me come and examine the Business
a little, I'll jerk the Truth out of 'em presently; here,
give me my Dog-Whip.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Look you, old Gentleman, 'tis in vain to
make a Noise; if you grow mutinous, I have some
Friends within Call, have Swords by their Sides, above
four Foot long; therefore be calm, hear the Evidence
patiently, and when the Jury have given their Verdict,
pass Sentence according to Law: Here's honest
<em>Coupler</em> shall be Foreman, and ask as many Questions as
he pleases.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> All I have to ask is, whether Nurse persists in
her Evidence? The Parson, I dare swear, will never
flinch from his.</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> [<em>To Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun</span>. kneeling.</em>] I hope in Heaven your
Worship will pardon me; I have served you long and
faithfully, but in this thing I was over-reach'd; your
Worship, however, was deceiv'd as, well as I; and if the
Wedding-Dinner had been ready, you had put Madam
to Bed with him with your own Hands.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> But how durst you do this, without acquainting
of me?</p>

<p><em>Nurse.</em> Alas! if your Worship had seen how the poor
Thing begg'd, and pray'd, and clung, and twin'd about
me, like Ivy to an old Wall, you wou'd say, I who had
suckled it, and swaddled it, and nurst it both wet and
dry, must have had a Heart of Adamant to refuse it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Foreman, I expect your Verdict.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Ladies and Gentlemen, what's your Opinions?</p>

<p><em>All.</em> A clear Case, a clear Case.</p>

<p><em>Coup.</em> Then, my young Folks, I wish you Joy.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> [<em>To</em> Young Fash.] Come hither, Stripling;
if it be true, then, that thou hast marry'd my Daughter,
pr'ythee tell me who thou art?</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Sir, the best of my Condition is, I am
your Son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am Brother
to that Noble Peer there.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Tun.</em> Art thou Brother to that Noble Peer&mdash;&mdash;Why
then, that Noble Peer, and thee, and thy Wife,
and the Nurse, and the Priest&mdash;&mdash;may all go and be
damn'd together.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">Tun</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Fop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Naw, for my part, I think the
wisest thing a Man can do with an aking Heart, is to put
on a serene Countenance; for a Philosaphical Air is the
most becoming thing in the Warld to the Face of a
Person of Quality; I will therefore bear my Disgrace
like a Great Man, and let the People see I am above an
Affrant. [<em>To</em> Young Fash.] Dear <em>Tam</em>, since Things are
thus fallen aut, pr'ythee give me leave to wish thee Jay.
I do it <em>de bon Cœur</em>, strike me dumb: you have marry'd
a Woman beautiful in her Person, charming in her
Airs, prudent in her Canduct, canstant in her Inclinations,
and of a nice Marality, split my Wind-pipe.</p>

<p><em>Young Fash.</em> Your Lardship may keep up your Spirits
with your Grimace, if you please; I shall support mine
with this Lady, and two thousand Pound a-year.</p>

<p><em>Taking Miss.</em>] Come, Madam:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">We once again, you see, are Man and Wife,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And now, perhaps, the Bargain's struck for Life:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">If I mistake, and we shou'd part again.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">At least you see you may have choice of Men:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Nay, shou'd the War at length such Havock make,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That Lovers shou'd grow scarce, yet for your sake,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Kind Heaven always will preserve a Beau&mdash;<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>
<em>Pointing to</em> Lord Fop.] You'll find his Lordship ready to come to.}<br />
<span style="margin-left: 36.5em;">}</span><br />
<em>Lord Fop.</em> Her Ladyship shall stap my Vitals, if I do.       }<br />
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-127.jpg" width="700" height="68" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE2" id="EPILOGUE2">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by</p>

<p class="directcenter">Lord <span class="smcap">Foppington</span>.
</p>

<p>
Gentlemen and Ladies,<br />
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">T</span>hese</span> People have regal'd you here to-day</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(In my Opinion) with a saucy Play;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In which the Author does presume to shew,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That Coxcomb,</em> ab Origine&mdash;<em>was Beau.</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Truly I think the thing of so much weight,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That if some sharp Chastisement ben't his Fate,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Gad's Curse, it may in time destroy the State.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I hold no one its Friend, I must confess,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Who wou'd discauntenance you Men of Dress.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Far, give me leave t'abserve, good Clothes are Things</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Have ever been of great Support to Kings:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All Treasons come fram Slovens; it is nat</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Within the reach of Gentle Beaux to plat;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They have no Gall; no Spleen, no Teeth, no Stings,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of all Gad's Creatures, the most harmless Things.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Thro' all Recard, no Prince was ever slain</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By one who had a Feather in his Brain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They're Men of too refin'd an Education,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To squabble with a Court&mdash;for a vile dirty Nation.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I'm very pasitive, you never saw</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A tho'ro' Republican a finish'd Beau.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nor truly shall you very often see</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A <span class="antiqua">Jacobite</span> much better drest than he:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In short, thro' all the Courts that I have been in,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your Men of Mischief&mdash;still are in faul Linen.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Did ever one yet dance the <span class="antiqua">Tyburn</span> Jigg,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With a free Air, or a well pawder'd Wig?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Did ever Highway-man yet bid you stand,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With a sweet bawdy Snuff-Box in his Hand?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ar do you ever find they ask your Purse</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As Men of Breeding do?&mdash;&mdash;Ladies, Gad's Curse,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>This Author is a Dag, and 'tis not fit</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You shou'd allow him e'en one Grain of Wit:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To which, that his Pretence may ne'er be nam'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>My humble Motion is&mdash;&mdash;he may be damn'd.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-128.jpg" width="700" height="436" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-129.jpg" width="700" height="72" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE3" id="THE3">THE</a><br />

PROVOK'D WIFE.<br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-129.jpg" width="700" height="72" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a><br /><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-131.jpg" width="700" height="76" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE3" id="PROLOGUE3">PROLOGUE.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mrs. <em>Bracegirdle</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">S</span>ince</span> 'tis th' Intent and Business of the Stage,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To copy out the Follies of the Age;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To hold to every Man a faithful Glass,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And shew him of what Species he's an Ass:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I hope the next that teaches in the School,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Will shew our Author he's a scribbling Fool.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And that the Satire may be sure to bite,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Kind Heav'n! inspire some venom'd Priest to write,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And grant some ugly Lady may indite.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For I wou'd have him lash'd, by Heavens! I wou'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Till his Presumption swam away in Blood.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Three Plays at once proclaim a Face of Brass,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No matter what they are; That's not the Case&mdash;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To write three Plays, e'en that's to be an Ass.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But what I least forgive, he knows it too,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For to his Cost he lately has known you&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Experience shews, to many a Writer's Smart,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You hold a Court where Mercy ne'er had part;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So much of the old Serpent's Sting you have,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You love to Damn, as Heaven delights to Save.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In foreign Parts, let a bold Volunteer,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For Public Good, upon the Stage appear,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He meets ten thousand Smiles to dissipate his Fear.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All tickle on th' adventuring young Beginner,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And only scourge th' incorrigible Sinner;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They touch indeed his Faults, but with a Hand</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So gentle, that his Merit still may stand;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Kindly they buoy the Follies of his Pen,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That he may shun 'em when he writes again.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But 'tis not so in this good-natur'd Town,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All's one, an Ox, a Poet, or a Crown;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Old <span class="antiqua">England</span>'s Play was always knocking down.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae3" id="Dramatis_Personae3">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Constant</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Verbruggen</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Heartfree</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Hudson</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>John Brute</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Betterton</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Treble</em>, a Singing-Master,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bowman</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Rasor</em>, Valet de Chambre to Sir <em>John Brute</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bowen</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Justice of the Peace,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bright</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lord <em>Rake</em>,</td>
    <td rowspan="2" class="bl">Companions to Sir <em>John Brute</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Col. <em>Bully</em>,</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">Constable <em>and</em> Watch.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Brute</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Barry</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Belinda</em>, her Niece,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Bracegirdle</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Bowman</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Madamoiselle</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Willis</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Cornet</em> and <em>Pipe</em>, Servants to Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
<img src="images/bar-133.jpg" width="700" height="81" alt="" />
</div>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
PROVOK'D WIFE.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-023b.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I3" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John Brute</span>'s House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">What</span> cloying Meat is Love&mdash;when Matrimony's
the Sauce to it! Two Years Marriage
has debauch'd my five Senses. Every thing I see, every
thing I hear, every thing I feel, every thing I smell,
and every thing I taste&mdash;methinks has Wife in't. No
Boy was ever so weary of his Tutor, no Girl of her Bib,
no Nun of doing Penance, or old Maid of being chaste,
as I am of being married. Sure there's a secret Curse
entail'd upon the very Name of Wife. My Lady is a
young Lady, a fine Lady, a witty Lady, a virtuous
Lady,&mdash;and yet I hate her. There is but one thing
on Earth I loath beyond her: That's Fighting. Would
my Courage come up to a fourth part of my Ill-Nature,
I'd stand buff to her Relations, and thrust her out of
doors. But Marriage has sunk me down to such an Ebb
of Resolution, I dare not draw my Sword, tho' even to
get rid of my Wife. But here she comes.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lady Brute</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Do you dine at home to-day, Sir <em>John</em>?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, do you expect I should tell you
what I don't know myself?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I thought there was no harm in asking you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> If thinking wrong were an excuse for Impertinence,
Women might be justify'd in most things
they say or do.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I'm sorry I have said any thing to displease
you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sorrow for things past is of as little importance
to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to
be to you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> My Enquiry was only that I might have
provided what you lik'd.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Six to four you had been in the wrong
there again; for what I lik'd yesterday I don't like to-day;
and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like
to-morrow.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But if I had ask'd you what you lik'd?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why then there wou'd have been more asking
about it than the thing was worth.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I wish I did but know how I might please
you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Ay, but that sort of Knowledge is not a
Wife's Talent.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Whate'er my Talent is, I'm sure my Will
has ever been to make you easy.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> If Women were to have their Wills, the
World wou'd be finely govern'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What reason have I given you to use me
as you do of late? It once was otherwise: You marry'd
me for Love.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And you me for Money: So you have your
Reward, and I have mine.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What is it that disturbs you?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> A Parson.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, what has he done to you?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> He has married me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>The Devil's in the Fellow, I think&mdash;&mdash;I was told before
I married him, that thus 'twou'd be: But I thought
I had Charms enough to govern him; and that where
there was an Estate, a Woman must needs be happy;
so my Vanity has deceiv'd me, and my Ambition has
made me uneasy. But there's some Comfort still; if one
wou'd be reveng'd of him, these are good times; a Woman
may have a Gallant, and a separate Maintenance
too&mdash;The surly Puppy&mdash;yet he's a Fool for't: for
hitherto he has been no Monster: But who knows how
far he may provoke me? I never lov'd him, yet I have
been ever true to him; and that, in spite of all the Attacks
of Art and Nature upon a poor weak Woman's
Heart, in favour of a tempting Lover. Methinks so
noble a Defence as I have made, shou'd be rewarded with
a better Usage&mdash;Or who can tell?&mdash;&mdash;Perhaps a good
part of what I suffer from my Husband, may be a
Judgment upon me for my Cruelty to my Lover.&mdash;&mdash;Lord,
with what pleasure could I indulge that Thought,
were there but a Possibility of finding Arguments to
make it good!&mdash;--And how do I know but there may?&mdash;Let
me see&mdash;&mdash;What opposes?&mdash;My matrimonial
Vow&mdash;&mdash;Why, what did I vow? I think I promis'd to
be true to my Husband. Well; and he promis'd to be
kind to me. But he han't kept his Word&mdash;&mdash;Why then
I'm absolv'd from mine&mdash;Ay, that seems clear to me.
The Argument's good between the King and the People,
why not between the Husband and the Wife? O, but
that Condition was not exprest&mdash;No matter, 'twas understood.
Well, by all I see, if I argue the matter a little
longer with myself, I shan't find so many Bug-bears
in the Way as I thought I shou'd. Lord, what fine
Notions of Virtue do we Women take up upon the
Credit of old foolish Philosophers! Virtue's its own
Reward, Virtue's this, Virtue's that&mdash;&mdash;Virtue's an
Ass, and a Gallant's worth forty on't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Good-morrow, dear Cousin.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Good-morrow, Madam; you look pleas'd this
Morning.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I am so.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> With what, pray?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> With my Husband.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Drown Husbands; for your's is a provoking
Fellow: As he went out just now, I pray'd him to tell
me what time of Day 'twas; and he ask'd me if I took
him for the Church-Clock, that was oblig'd to tell all
the Parish.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> He has been saying some good obliging
things to me too. In short, <em>Belinda</em>, he has us'd me so
barbarously of late, that I cou'd almost resolve to play
the downright Wife&mdash;and cuckold him.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> That would be downright indeed.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, after all, there's more to be said
for't than you'd imagine, Child. I know, according to
the strict Statute-Law of Religion, I shou'd do wrong:
But if there were a Court of Chancery in Heav'n, I'm
sure I shou'd cast him.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> If there were a House of Lords, you might.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> In either I should infallibly carry my
Cause. Why, he is the first Aggressor, not I.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Ay, but you know we must return Good for
Evil.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> That may be a Mistake in the Translation&mdash;Pr'ythee
be of my Opinion, <em>Belinda</em>; for I'm
positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the Prerogative
of a Woman, you'll likewise be positive you
are in the right, whenever you do any thing you have
a mind to. But I shall play the Fool, and jest on, till
I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I shan't take the Liberty, Madam, to think of
any thing that you desire to keep a Secret from me.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Alas, my Dear, I have no Secrets. My
Heart cou'd never yet confine my Tongue.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Your Eyes, you mean; for I'm sure I have seen
them gadding, when your Tongue has been lock'd up
safe enough.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> My Eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who,
Child?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as
much as I know you love him.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> <em>Constant</em> you mean.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I do so.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Lord, what shou'd put such a thing into
your Head?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> That which puts things into most People's Heads,
Observation.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why what have you observ'd, in the
Name of Wonder?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I have observed you blush when you met him;
force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour
with every thing about you: In a Word, never
was poor Creature so spurr'd on by Desire, and so
rein'd in with Fear.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> How strong is Fancy!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> How weak is Woman!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Pr'ythee, Niece, have a better Opinion
of your Aunt's Inclination.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Dear Aunt, have a better Opinion of your
Niece's Understanding.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You'll make me angry.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> You'll make me laugh.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then you are resolv'd to persist?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Positively.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And all I can say&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Will signify nothing.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Tho' I should swear 'twere false&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I should think it true.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then let us both forgive; [<em>Kissing her.</em>]
for we have both offended: I, in making a Secret; you,
in discovering it.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Good Nature may do much: But you have more
Reason to forgive one, than I have to pardon t'other.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis true, <em>Belinda</em>, you have given me so
many Proofs of your Friendship, that my Reserve has
been indeed a Crime: But that you may more easily
forgive me, remember, Child, that when our Nature
prompts us to a thing our Honour and Religion have
forbid us; we wou'd (wer't possible) conceal even from
the Soul itself, the Knowledge of the Body's Weakness.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Well, I hope, to make your Friend amends,
you'll hide nothing from her for the future, tho' the
Body shou'd still grow weaker and weaker.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> No, from this Moment I have no more
Reserve; and for a Proof of my Repentance, I own,
<em>Belinda</em>, I'm in danger. Merit and Wit assault me from
without; Nature and Love sollicit me within; my
Husband's barbarous Usage piques me to Revenge;
and <em>Satan</em>, catching at the fair Occasion, throws in my
way that Vengeance, which of all Vengeance pleases
Women best.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> 'Tis well <em>Constant</em> don't know the Weakness of
the Fortification; for o' my Conscience he'd soon come
on to the Assault.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ay, and I'm afraid carry the Town too.
But whatever you may have observ'd, I have dissembled
so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no
Coquette, <em>Belinda</em>: And if you follow my Advice, you'll
never be one neither. 'Tis true, Coquetry is one of the
main Ingredients in the natural Composition of a Woman;
and I, as well as others, cou'd be well enough
pleas'd to see a Crowd of young Fellows ogling, and
glancing, and watching all Occasions to do forty foolish
officious Things: Nay, shou'd some of 'em push on,
even to hanging or drowning, why&mdash;'faith&mdash;if I
shou'd let pure Woman alone, I shou'd e'en be but too
well pleas'd with it.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But after all, 'tis a vicious Practice in us,
to give the least Encouragement but where we design
to come to a Conclusion. For 'tis an unreasonable thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
to engage a Man in a Disease, which we beforehand
resolve we never will apply a Cure to.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> 'Tis true; but then a Woman must abandon one
of the supreme Blessings of her Life. For I am fully
convinc'd, no Man has half that Pleasure in possessing
a Mistress, as a Woman has in jilting a Gallant.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> The happiest Woman then on Earth must
be our Neighbour.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> O the impertinent Composition! She has Vanity
and Affectation enough to make her a ridiculous Original,
in spite of all that Art and Nature ever furnish'd
to any of her Sex before her.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> She concludes all Men her Captives; and
whatever Course they take, it serves to confirm her in
that Opinion.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> If they shun her, she thinks 'tis Modesty, and
takes it for a Proof of their Passion.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And if they are rude to her, 'tis Conduct,
and done to prevent Town-talk.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> When her Folly makes 'em laugh; she thinks
they are pleased with her Wit.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And when her Impertinence makes 'em
dull, concludes they are jealous of her Favours.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> All their Actions and their Words, she takes for
granted, aim at her.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And pities all other Women, because she
thinks they envy her.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better
Subject; for I'm weary of this. Do you think your
Husband inclined to Jealousy?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O, no; he does not love me well enough
for that. Lord, how wrong Men's Maxims are! They
are seldom jealous of their Wives, unless they are very
fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the Women's
Inclinations; for there depends their Fate. Well, Men
may talk; But they are not so wise as we&mdash;&mdash;that's certain.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> At least in our Affairs.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Nay, I believe we shou'd out-do 'em in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
the Business of the State too: For, methinks, they do
and undo, and make but bad Work on't.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why then don't we get into the Intrigues of
Government as well as they?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Because we have Intrigues of our own,
that make us more Sport, Child. And so let's in and
consider of 'em.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Dressing-Room</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span>, <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Cornet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> How do I look this Morning?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Your Ladyship looks very ill, truly.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Lard, how ill-natur'd thou art, <em>Cornet</em>, to
tell me so, tho' the thing shou'd be true! Don't you
know that I have Humility enough to be but too easily
out of Conceit with myself? Hold the Glass; I dare
swear that will have more Manners than you have. <em>Madamoiselle</em>,
let me have your Opinion too.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> My opinion pe, Matam, dat your Latyship
never look so well in your Life.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, the <em>French</em> are the prettiest, obliging
People; they say the most acceptable, well-manner'd
things&mdash;and never flatter.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Your Latyship say great Justice inteed.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Nay, every thing's just in my House but
<em>Cornet</em>. The very Looking-Glass gives her the <em>Dementi</em>.
But I'm almost afraid it flatters me, it makes me
look so very engaging.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking affectedly in the Glass.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Inteed, Matam, your face pe handsomer
den all de Looking-Glass in de World, <em>croyez moy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> But is it possible my Eyes can be so languishing&mdash;and
so very full of Fire?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Matam, if de Glass was Burning-Glass, I
believe your Eyes set de Fire in de House.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> You may take that Night-gown, <em>Madamoiselle</em>;
get out of the Room, <em>Cornet</em>; I can't endure you.
This Wench, methinks, does look so unsufferably ugly.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Every ting look ugly, Matam, dat stand by
your Latyship.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> No really, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, methinks you
look mighty pretty.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Ah Matam! de Moon have no Eclat ven de
Sun appear.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O pretty Expression! Have you ever been
in Love, <em>Madamoiselle</em>?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ouy</em>, Matame.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sighing.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> And were you belov'd again?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Non</em>, Matame.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O ye Gods! What an unfortunate Creature
shou'd I be in such a Case! But Nature has made
me nice, for my own Defence: I'm nice, strangely nice,
<em>Madamoiselle</em>; I believe were the Merit of whole Mankind
bestow'd upon one single Person, I shou'd still think
the Fellow wanted something to make it worth my
while to take notice of him; and yet I could love; nay,
fondly love, were it possible to have a thing made on
purpose for me: For I'm not cruel, <em>Madamoiselle</em>; I'm
only nice.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Ah Matam, I wish I was fine Gentleman
for your sake. I do all de ting in de World to get leetel
way into your Heart. I make Song, I make Verse, I
give you de Serenade, I give great many Present to
<em>Madamoiselle</em>; I no eat, I no sleep, I be lean, I be mad,
I hang myself, I drown myself. <em>Ah ma chere Dame,
que je vous aimerois!</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing her.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, the <em>French</em> have strange obliging
ways with 'em; you may take those two pair of Gloves,
<em>Madamoiselle</em>.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Me humbly tanke my sweet Lady.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Cornet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Madam, here's a Letter for your Ladyship by
the Penny Post.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Some new Conquest, I'll warrant you.
For without Vanity, I look'd extremely clear last Night
when I went to the Park.&mdash;O agreeable! Here's a new
Song made of me: And ready set too. O thou welcome
thing! [<em>Kissing it.</em>] Call <em>Pipe</em> hither, she shall sing it
instantly.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Pipe</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Here, sing me this new Song, <em>Pipe</em>.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i14">SONG.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Fly, fly, you happy Shepherds, fly;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Avoid <span class="antiqua">Philira</span>'s Charms;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Rigour of her Heart denies</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The Heaven that's in her Arms.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ne'er hope to gaze, and then retire,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Nor yielding, to be blest;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nature, who form'd her Eyes of Fire,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Of Ice compos'd her Breast.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Yet, lovely Maid, this once believe</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>A Slave whose Zeal you move;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Gods, alas! your Youth deceive,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Their Heav'n consists in Love.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In spite of all the Thanks you owe,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>You may reproach 'em this;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That where they did their Form bestow,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>They have deny'd their Bliss.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, there may be Faults, <em>Madamoiselle</em>,
but the Design is so very obliging, 'twou'd be a matchless
Ingratitude in me to discover 'em.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ma foy, Madame</em>, I tink de Gentleman's
Song tell you de Trute. If you never love, you never
be happy&mdash;Ah&mdash;<em>que l'aime l'amour moy</em>!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant with another Letter.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> Madam, here's another Letter for your Ladyship.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> 'Tis this way I am importun'd every Morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>ing,
<em>Madamoiselle</em>. Pray how do the <em>French</em> Ladies when
they are thus <em>accablées</em>?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Matam, dey never complain. <em>Au contraire</em>,
when one <em>Frense</em> Laty have got hundred Lover&mdash;den
she do all she can&mdash;to get a hundred more.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, strike me dead, I think they have <em>le
Gout bon</em>. For 'tis an unutterable Pleasure to be ador'd
by all the Men, and envy'd by all the Women&mdash;&mdash;Yet
I'll swear I'm concern'd at the Torture I give 'em.
Lard, why was I form'd to make the whole Creation
uneasy! But let me read my Letter. [<em>Reads.</em>]</p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p>"If you have a mind to hear of your Faults, instead
of being prais'd for your Virtues, take the
pains to walk in the Green-walk in St. <em>James</em>'s with
your Woman an Hour hence. You'll there meet one,
who hates you for some things, as he cou'd love you
for others, and therefore is willing to endeavour your
Reformation.&mdash;&mdash;If you come to the Place I mention,
you'll know who I am: If you don't, you never
shall: so take your Choice."</p></div>

<p>This is strangely familiar, <em>Madamoiselle</em>; now have I
a provoking Fancy to know who this impudent Fellow is.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Den take your Scarf and your Mask, and
go to de Rendezvous. De <em>Frense</em> Laty do <em>justement
comme ça</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Rendezvous! What, rendezvous with a
Man, <em>Madamoiselle</em>!</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Eh, pourquoy non?</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> What, and a Man perhaps I never saw in
my Life?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Tant mieux: c'est donc quelque chose de nouveau.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, how do I know what Designs he
may have? He may intend to ravish me, for aught I
know.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Ravish!&mdash;<em>Bagatelle</em>. I would fain see one
impudent Rogue ravish <em>Madamoiselle: Ouy, je le voudrois</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em>.O, but my Reputation, <em>Madamoiselle!</em> my
Reputation! <em>Ah ma chere Reputation!</em></p>

<p>Madam. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><em>Madame&mdash;Quand on la une fois perdue&mdash;On
n'en est plus embarassée.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Fe, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, Fe! Reputation is a
Jewel.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Qui coute bien chere, Madame.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why sure you would not sacrifice your
Honour to your Pleasure?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Je suis Philosophe.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Bless me, how you talk! Why, what if
Honour be a Burden, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, must it not be borne?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Chaqu'un a sa façon&mdash;Quand quelque chose
m'incommode moy&mdash;je m'en defais vite.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Get you gone, you little naughty <em>French-woman</em>,
you; I vow and swear I must turn you out of
doors, if you talk thus.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Turn me out of doors!&mdash;--Turn yourself out
of doors, and go see what de Gentleman have to say
to you&mdash;<em>Tenez</em>. <em>Voila</em> [Giving her her things hastily.]
<em>vostre Esharpe</em>, <em>voila vostre Quoife</em>, <em>voila vostre Masque</em>,
<em>voila tout</em>. <em>Hey</em>, <em>Mercure</em>, <em>Coquin</em>: Call one Chair for
Matam, and one oder [<em>Calling within.</em>] for me: <em>Va t'en
vite</em>. [Turning to her Lady, and helping her on hastily
with her things.] <em>Allons, Madame, depechez vous donc.
Mon Dieu, quelles Scrupules!</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, for once, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, I'll follow
your Advice, out of the intemperate Desire I have to
know who this ill-bred Fellow is. But I have too much
<em>Delicatesse</em>, to make a Practice on't.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Belle chose vrayment que la Delicatesse, lors
qu'il s'agit de se devertir&mdash;à ça&mdash;Vous voila equipés,
partons.&mdash;He bien!&mdash;qu'avez vous donc?</em></p>

<p>Lady Fan. <em>J'ay peur.</em></p>

<p>Madam. <em>Je n'en ay point moy.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> I dare not go.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Demeurez donc.</em></p>

<p>Lady Fan. <em>Je suis poltrone.</em></p>

<p>Madam. <em>Tant pis pour vous.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Curiosity's a wicked Devil.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>C'est une charmante Sainte.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> It ruined our first Parents.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Elle a bien diverti leurs Enfans.</em></p>

<p>Lady Fan. <em>L'Honneur est contre.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>

<p>Madam. <em>La Plaisir est pour.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Must I then go?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Must you go?&mdash;Must you eat, must you
drink, must you sleep, must you live? De Nature bid
you do one, de Nature bid you do toder. <em>Vous me ferez
enrager.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> But when Reason corrects Nature, <em>Madamoiselle</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Elle est donc bien insolente, c'est sa Sœur aisnée.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Do you then prefer your Nature to your
Reason, <em>Madamoiselle</em>?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ouy da.</em></p>

<p>Lady Fan. <em>Pourquoy?</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Because my Nature make me merry, my
Reason make me mad.</p>

<p>Lady Fan. <em>Ah la mechante Françoise!</em></p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ah la belle Angloise!</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Forcing her Lady off.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-145.jpg" width="700" height="41" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_II3" id="ACT_II3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>St. <span class="antiqua">James</span>'s Park</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull and Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, I vow, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, I'm strangely
impatient to know who this confident
Fellow is.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Look, there's <em>Heartfree</em>. But sure it can't be him;
he's a profess'd Woman-hater. Yet who knows what
my wicked Eyes may have done?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Il nous approche, Madame.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Yes, 'tis he: now will he be most intolerably
cavalier, tho' he should be in love with me.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Madam, I'm your humble Servant; I per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>ceive
you have more Humility and Good-Nature than I
thought you had.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> What you attribute to Humility and Good-Nature,
Sir, may perhaps be only due to Curiosity. I
had a mind to know who 'twas had ill manners enough
to write that Letter.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Throwing him his Letter.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Well, and now I hope you are satisfy'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> I am so, Sir: Good by t'ye.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, hold there; tho' you have done your
Business, I han't done mine: By your Ladyship's leave,
we must have one Moment's Prattle together. Have you
a mind to be the prettiest Woman about Town, or not?
How she stares upon me! What! this passes for an impertinent
Question with you now, because you think
you are so already?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Pray, Sir, let me ask you a Question in my
Turn: By what Right do you pretend to examine me?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> By the same Right that the strong govern the
weak, because I have you in my power; for you cannot
get so quickly to your Coach, but I shall have time
enough to make you hear every thing I have to say to
you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> These are strange Liberties you take, Mr.
<em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> They are so, Madam, but there's no help for
it; for know that I have a Design upon you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Upon me, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Yes; and one that will turn to your Glory,
and my Comfort, if you will but be a little wiser than
you use to be.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Very well, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Let me see&mdash;&mdash;Your Vanity, Madam, I
take to be about some eight Degrees higher than any
Woman's in the Town, let t'other be who she will; and
my Indifference is naturally about the same Pitch. Now,
could you find the way to turn this Indifference into Fire
and Flames, methinks your Vanity ought to be satisfy'd;
and this, perhaps, you might bring about upon pretty
reasonable Terms.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> And pray at what rate would this Indifference
be bought off, if one shou'd have so depraved an
Appetite to desire it?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, Madam, to drive a Quaker's Bargain,
and make but one word with you, if I do part with it&mdash;you
must lay me down&mdash;your Affectation.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> My Affectation, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, I ask you nothing but what you may
very well spare.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> You grow rude, Sir. Come, <em>Madamoiselle</em>,
'tis high time to be gone.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Allons, allons, allons.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Stopping them.</em>] Nay, you may as well stand
still; for hear me you shall, walk which way you please.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> What mean you, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I mean to tell you, that you are the most ungrateful
Woman upon Earth.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Ungrateful! To whom?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> To Nature.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, what has Nature done for me?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> What you have undone by Art! It made you
handsome; it gave you Beauty to a Miracle, a Shape
without a Fault, Wit enough to make them relish, and so
turn'd you loose to your own Discretion; which has
made such work with you, that you are become the Pity
of our Sex, and the Jest of your own. There is not a
Feature in your Face, but you have found the way to
teach it some affected Convulsion; your Feet, your
Hands, your very Fingers Ends are directed never to
move without some ridiculous Air or other; and your
Language is a suitable Trumpet, to draw people's Eyes
upon the Raree-show.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> [aside] <em>Est ce qu'on fait l'amour en Angleterre
comme ça?</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Now cou'd I cry for Madness, but
that I know he'd laugh at me for it.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Now do you hate me for telling you the Truth,
but that's because you don't believe it is so; for were
you once convinc'd of that, you'd reform for your own
sake. But 'tis as hard to persuade a Woman to quit any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
thing that makes her ridiculous, as 'tis to prevail with
a Poet to see a Fault in his own Play.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Every Circumstance of nice Breeding must
needs appear ridiculous to one who has so natural an
Antipathy to Good-manners.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> But suppose I could find the means to convince
you, that the whole World is of my Opinion, and
that those who flatter and commend you, do it to no
other Intent, but to make you persevere in your Folly,
that they may continue in their Mirth.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Sir, tho' you and all that World you talk of
shou'd be so impertinently officious, as to think to persuade
me I don't know how to behave myself; I shou'd
still have Charity enough for my own Understanding, to
believe myself in the right, and all you in the wrong.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Le voila mort.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Gazing after her.</em>] There her single Clapper has
publish'd the Sense of the whole Sex. Well, this once
I have endeavour'd to wash the Blackamoor white, but
henceforward I'll sooner undertake to teach Sincerity
to a Courtier, Generosity to an Usurer, Honesty to a
Lawyer, nay, Humility to a Divine, than Discretion to
a Woman I see has once set her Heart upon playing the
Fool.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>'Morrow, <em>Constant</em>.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Good-morrow, <em>Jack</em>! What are you doing here
this Morning?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Doing! Guess, if thou canst.&mdash;&mdash;Why I have
been endeavouring to persuade my Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>, that
she's the foolishest Woman about Town.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> A pretty Endeavour, truly!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I have told her in as plain <em>English</em> as I could
speak, both what the Town says of her, and what I
think of her. In short, I have us'd her as an absolute
King would do <em>Magna Charta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> And how does she take it?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> As Children do Pills; bite them, but can't
swallow them.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But, pr'ythee, what has put it into your Head,
of all Mankind, to turn Reformer?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why one thing was, the Morning hung upon
my Hands, I did not know what to do with myself; and
another was, that as little as I care for Women, I cou'd
not see with Patience one that Heaven had taken such
wondrous Pains about, be so very industrious to make
herself the Jack-pudding of the Creation.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, now could I almost wish to see my cruel
Mistress make the self-same Use of what Heaven has
done for her, that so I might be cur'd of a Disease that
makes me so very uneasy; for Love, Love is the Devil,
<em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And why do you let the Devil govern you?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Because I have more Flesh and Blood than
Grace and Self-denial. My dear, dear Mistress! 'S death!
that so genteel a Woman should be a Saint, when Religion's
out of Fashion!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, she's much in the wrong, truly; but
who knows how far Time and good Example may prevail?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O! they have play'd their Parts in vain already:
'Tis now two Years since that damned Fellow her Husband
invited me to his Wedding; and there was the first
time I saw that charming Woman, whom I have lov'd
ever since, more than e'er a Martyr did his Soul; but
she is cold, my Friend, still cold as the Northern Star.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> So are all Women by Nature, which makes
them so willing to be warm'd.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O don't prophane the Sex! Pr'ythee, think them
all Angels for her sake; for she's virtuous even to a Fault.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> A Lover's Head is a good accountable Thing
truly; he adores his Mistress for being virtuous, and yet
is very angry with her because she won't be lewd.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, the only Relief I expect in my Misery,
is to see thee some Day or other as deeply engag'd as
myself, which will force me to be merry in the midst of
all my Misfortunes.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> That Day will never come, be assur'd, <em>Ned</em>.
Not but that I can pass a Night with a Woman, and for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
the time, perhaps; make myself as good Sport as you can
do. Nay, I can court a Woman too, call her Nymph,
Angel, Goddess, what you please: But here's the Difference
'twixt you and I; I persuade a Woman she's an
Angel, and she persuades you she's one. Pr'ythee, let
me tell you how I avoid falling in Love; that which
serves me for Prevention, may chance to serve you for a
Cure.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, use the Ladies moderately then, and I'll
hear you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> That using them moderately undoes us all;
but I'll use them justly, and that you ought to be satisfied
with. I always consider a Woman, not as the Taylor,
the Shoemaker, the Tire-woman, the Sempstress, and
(which is more than all that) the Poet makes her; but I
consider her as pure Nature has contrived her, and that
more strictly than I shou'd have done our old Grandmother
<em>Eve</em>, had I seen her naked in the Garden; for
I consider her turn'd inside out. Her Heart well examin'd,
I find there Pride, Vanity, Covetousness, Indiscretion,
but above all things, Malice; plots eternally
a-forging to destroy one another's Reputations, and as
honestly to charge the Levity of Men's Tongues with the
Scandal; hourly Debates how to make poor Gentlemen
in love with them, with no other Intent but to use them
like Dogs when they have done; a constant Desire of
doing more Mischief, and an everlasting War wag'd
against Truth and Good-Nature.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Very well, Sir! An admirable Composition,
truly!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Then for her Outside, I consider it merely as
an Outside; she has a thin Tiffany Covering over just
such Stuff as you and I are made on. As for her Motion,
her Mien, her Airs, and all those Tricks, I know they
affect you mightily. If you should see your Mistress at a
Coronation dragging her Peacock's Train, with all her
State and Insolence about her, 'twou'd strike you with
all the awful Thoughts that Heav'n itself could pretend
to from you; whereas I turn the whole Matter into a Jest,
and suppose her strutting in the self-same stately Manner,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
with nothing on her but her Stays and her under scanty
quilted Petticoat.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Hold thy profane Tongue; for I'll hear no
more.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> What, you'll love on, then?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yes, to Eternity.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Yet you have no hopes at all?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> None.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, the Resolution may be discreet enough;
perhaps you have found out some new Philosophy, that
Love, like Virtue, is its own Reward: So you and your
Mistress will be as well content at a Distance, as others
that have less Learning are in coming together.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> No; but if she should prove kind at last, my
dear <em>Heartfree</em>&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing him</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, pr'ythee, don't take me for your Mistress;
for Lovers are very troublesome.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well; who knows what Time may do?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And just now he was sure Time could do
nothing.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yet not one kind Glance in two Years, is somewhat
strange.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Not strange at all; she don't like you, that's
all the Business.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pr'ythee, don't distract me.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, you are a good handsome young Fellow,
she might use you better: Come, will you go see her?
Perhaps she may have chang'd her Mind; there's some
Hopes as long as she's a Woman.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O, 'tis in vain to visit her! Sometimes to get a
Sight of her, I visit that Beast her Husband; but she certainly
finds some Pretence to quit the Room as soon as I
enter.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> 'Tis much she don't tell him you have made
Love to her too; for that's another good-natur'd thing
usual amongst Women, in which they have several Ends.
Sometimes 'tis to recommend their Virtue, that they may
be lewd with the greater Security. Sometimes 'tis to
make their Husbands fight, in hopes they may be kill'd,
when their Affairs require it should be so: but most com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>monly
'tis to engage two Men in a Quarrel, that they
may have the Credit of being fought for; and if the
Lover's kill'd in the Business, they cry, <em>Poor Fellow, he
had ill Luck</em>&mdash;&mdash;and so they go to Cards.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Thy Injuries to Women are not to be forgiven.
Look to't, if ever thou dost fall into their Hands&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> They can't use me worse than they do you,
that speak well of 'em. O ho! here comes the Knight.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John Brute</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Your humble Servant, Sir <em>John</em>.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Servant, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> How does all your Family?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Pox o' my Family!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> How does your Lady? I han't seen her abroad
a good while.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Do! I don't know how she does, not I;
she was well enough Yesterday; I han't been at home
to-night.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> What, were you out of Town?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Out of Town! No, I was drinking.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> You are a true <em>Englishman</em>; don't know your
own Happiness. If I were married to such a Woman, I
would not be from her a Night for all the Wine in
<em>France</em>.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Not from her!&mdash;--'Oons&mdash;&mdash;what a time
should a Man have of that!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, there's no Division, I hope.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No; but there's a Conjunction, and that's
worse; a Pox of the Parson&mdash;&mdash;Why the plague
don't you two marry? I fancy I look like the Devil to
you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, you don't think you have Horns, do
you?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No, I believe my Wife's Religion will keep
her honest.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And what will make her keep her Religion?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Persecution; and therefore she shall have it.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Have a care, Knight! Women are tender
things.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And yet, methinks, 'tis a hard Matter to
break their Hearts.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Fy, fy! You have one of the best Wives in the
World, and yet you seem the most uneasy Husband.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Best Wives! The Woman's well enough;
she has no Vice that I know of, but she's a Wife, and&mdash;damn
a Wife! If I were married to a Hogshead of
Claret, Matrimony would make me hate it.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why did you marry, then? You were old
enough to know your own Mind.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why did I marry? I married because I had
a mind to lie with her, and she would not let me.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why did you not ravish her?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Yes, and so have hedg'd myself into forty
Quarrels with her Relations, besides buying my pardon:
But more than all that, you must know, I was afraid of
being damn'd in those days: For I kept sneaking,
cowardly Company, Fellows that went to Church, said
Grace to their Meat, and had not the least Tincture of
Quality about them.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> But I think you are got into a better Gang now?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Zoons, Sir, my Lord <em>Rake</em> and I are Hand
and Glove: I believe we may get our Bones broke together
to-night; have you a mind to share a Frolick?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Not I, truly; my Talent lies to softer Exercises.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What, a Down-Bed and a Strumpet? A
pox of Venery, I say. Will you come and drink with
me this Afternoon?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I can't drink to-day, but we'll come and sit an
Hour with you, if you will.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Phugh, Pox, sit an Hour! Why can't you
drink?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Because I'm to see my Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Who's that?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, do you use to tell?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> So won't I.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Because 'tis a Secret.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Would my Wife knew it, 'twould be no Secret
long.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, do you think she can't keep a Secret?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No more than she can keep <em>Lent</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pr'ythee, tell it her to try, <em>Constant</em>.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No, pr'ythee, don't, that I mayn't be
plagu'd with it.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I'll hold you a Guinea you don't make her
tell it you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I'll hold you a Guinea I do.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Which way?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, I'll beg her not to tell it me.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, if any thing does it, that will.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But do you think, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Oons, Sir, I think a Woman and a Secret
are the two impertinentest Themes in the Universe:
Therefore pray let's hear no more of my Wife, nor your
Mistress. Damn 'em both with all my heart, and every
thing else that daggles a Petticoat, except four generous
Whores, with <em>Betty Sands</em> at the Head of 'em, who are
drunk with my Lord <em>Rake</em> and I ten times in a Fortnight.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Sir John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Here's a dainty Fellow for you! And the
veriest Coward too. But his Usage of his Wife makes
me ready to stab the Villain.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Lovers are short-sighted: All their Senses run
into that of Feeling. This Proceeding of his is the only
thing on Earth can make your Fortune. If any thing
can prevail with her to accept of a Gallant, 'tis his ill
Usage of her; for Women will do more for Revenge,
than they'll do for the Gospel. Pr'ythee, take heart, I
have great hopes for you: And since I can't bring you
quite off of her, I'll endeavour to bring you quite on; for
a whining Lover is the damn'dest Companion upon Earth.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> My dear Friend, flatter me a little more with
these Hopes; for whilst they prevail, I have Heaven
within me, and could melt with Joy.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pray, no melting yet; let things go farther first.
This afternoon, perhaps, we shall make some advance.
In the mean while, let's go dine at <em>Locket</em>'s, and let Hope
get you a Stomach.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Lady</em> Fancyfull's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Did you ever see any thing so <em>importune,
Madamoiselle</em>?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Inteed, Matam, to say de trute, he want
leetel Good-breeding.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Good-breeding! He wants to be caned,
<em>Madamoiselle</em>: an insolent Fellow! And yet let me expose
my Weakness, 'tis the only Man on Earth I cou'd
resolve to dispense my Favours on, were he but a fine
Gentleman. Well! did Men but know how deep an
Impression a fine Gentleman makes in a Lady's Heart,
they would reduce all their Studies to that of Good-breeding
alone.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Cornet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Madam, here's Mr. <em>Treble</em>. He has brought
home the Verses your Ladyship made, and gave him to
set.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O let him come in by all means. Now
<em>Madamoiselle</em>, am I going to be unspeakably happy.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Treble</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>So, Mr. <em>Treble</em>, you have set my little Dialogue?</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> Yes, Madam, and I hope your Ladyship will be
pleased with it.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O, no doubt on't; for really, Mr. <em>Treble</em>,
you set all things to a wonder: But your Musick is in
particular heavenly, when you have my Words to
clothe in't.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> Your Words themselves, Madam, have so much
Musick in 'em, they inspire me.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Nay, now you make me blush, Mr. <em>Treble</em>;
but pray let's hear what you have done.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> You shall, Madam.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>

<p>A SONG, to be sung between a Man and a Woman.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">M. <em>Ah lovely Nymph, the World's on fire;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>Veil, veil those cruel Eyes</em>:<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">W. <em>The World may then in Flames expire,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>And boast that so it dies</em>.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">M. <em>But when all Mortals are destroy'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>Who then shall sing your Praise?</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">W. <em>Those who are fit to be employ'd:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>The Gods shall Altars raise</em>.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Treb.</em> How does your Ladyship like it, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Rapture, Rapture, Mr. <em>Treble</em>! I'm all
Rapture! O Wit and Art, what Power have you when
join'd! I must needs tell you the Birth of this little Dialogue,
Mr. <em>Treble</em>. Its Father was a Dream, and its
Mother was the Moon. I dream'd that by an unanimous
Vote, I was chosen Queen of that pale World; and that
the first time I appear'd upon my Throne&mdash;&mdash;all my
Subjects fell in love with me. Just then I wak'd, and
seeing Pen, Ink and Paper lie idle upon the Table, I
slid into my Morning-Gown, and writ this <em>impromptu</em>.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> So I guess the Dialogue, Madam, is suppos'd
to be between your Majesty and your first Minister of
State.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Just: He, as Minister, advises me to
trouble my Head about the Welfare of my Subjects;
which I, as Sovereign, find a very impertinent Proposal.
But is the Town so dull, Mr. <em>Treble</em>, it affords us
never another new Song?</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> Madam, I have one in my Pocket, came out
but Yesterday, if your Ladyship pleases to let Mrs. <em>Pipe</em>
sing it.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> By all means. Here, <em>Pipe</em>, make what
Musick you can of this Song, here.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i12">SONG.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i16">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Not an Angel dwells above,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Half so fair as her I love.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Heaven knows, how she'll receive me;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If she smiles, I'm blest indeed;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If she frowns, I'm quickly freed;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Heaven knows she ne'er can grieve me.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i16">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>None can love her more than I,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet she ne'er shall make me die.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>If my Flame can never warm her,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Lasting Beauty I'll adore;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I shall never love her more,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Cruelty will so deform her.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Very well: This is <em>Heartfree</em>'s Poetry
without question.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> Won't your Ladyship please to sing yourself
this Morning?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O Lord, Mr. <em>Treble</em>, my Cold is still so
barbarous to refuse me that Pleasure! He, he, hem.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> I'm very sorry for it, Madam: Methinks all
Mankind should turn Physicians for the Cure on't.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, truly, to give Mankind their due,
there's few that know me but have offer'd their Remedy.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> They have reason, Madam; for I know no
body sings so near a Cherubim as your Ladyship.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> What I do, I owe chiefly to your Skill and
Care, Mr. <em>Treble</em>. People do flatter me, indeed, that I
have a Voice, and a <em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em> in the Conduct of it,
that will make Musick of any thing. And truly I begin
to believe so, since what happen'd t'other Night:
Wou'd you think it, Mr. <em>Treble</em>? Walking pretty late in
the Park, (for I often walk late in the Park, Mr <em>Treble</em>)
a Whim took me to sing <em>Chevy Chase</em>; and, wou'd you
believe it? next Morning I had three Copies of Verses,
and six Billet-doux at my Levée upon it.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> And without all dispute you deserv'd as many
more, Madam. Are there any further Commands for
your Ladyship's humble Servant?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Nothing more at this Time, Mr. <em>Treble</em>.
But I shall expect you here every Morning for this
Month, to sing my little Matter there to me. I'll reward
you for your Pains.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> O Lord, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Good-morrow, sweet Mr. <em>Treble</em>.</p>

<p><em>Treb.</em> Your Ladyship's most obedient Servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Treb</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Will your Ladyship please to dine yet?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Yes, let 'em serve. [<em>Exit Servant.</em>] Sure
this <em>Heartfree</em> has bewitch'd me, <em>Madamoiselle</em>. You
can't imagine how oddly he mixt himself in my Thoughts
during my Rapture e'en now. I vow 'tis a thousand
Pities he is not more polish'd: Don't you think so?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Matam, I tink it so great pity, dat if I was
in your Ladyship place, I take him home in my House,
I lock him up in my Closet, and I never let him go till
I teach him every ting dat fine Laty expect from fine
Gentelman.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, truly, I believe I shou'd soon subdue
his Brutality; for without doubt, he has a strange <em>Penchant</em>
to grow fond of me, in spite of his Aversion to the
Sex, else he wou'd ne'er have taken so much Pains about
me. Lord, how proud wou'd some poor Creatures be of
such a Conquest! But I, alas! I don't know how to receive
as a Favour what I take to be so infinitely my
Due. But what shall I do to new-mould him, <em>Madamoiselle</em>?
for till then he's my utter Aversion.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Matam; you must laugh at him in all de place
dat you meet him, and turn into de reticule all he say,
and all he do.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, truly, Satire has ever been of wondrous
use to reform Ill-manners. Besides, 'tis my particular
Talent to ridicule Folks. I can be severe, strangely severe,
when I will, <em>Madamoiselle</em>&mdash;&mdash;Give me the Pen
and Ink&mdash;&mdash;I find myself whimsical&mdash;&mdash;I'll write to
him&mdash;&mdash;Or I'll let it alone, and be severe upon him
that way [<em>Sitting down to write, rising up again.</em>]&mdash;Yet
Active Severity is better than Passive. [<em>Sitting down.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;'Tis
as good let it alone, too; for every Lash I give
him, perhaps, he'll take for a Favour. [<em>Rising.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Yet
'tis a thousand pities so much Satire should be lost. [<em>Sitting.</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>]&mdash;&mdash;
But if it shou'd have a wrong Effect upon him,
'twould distract me. [<em>Rising.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Well, I must write,
tho', after all, [<em>Sitting.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Or I'll let it alone, which is
the same thing. [<em>Rising.</em>]</p>

<p>Madam. <em>La voilà determinée.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-159.jpg" width="700" height="39" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_III3" id="ACT_III3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>opens; Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>
and <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span> rising from the Table.</em></h4>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>ere</span>, take away the Things; I expect
Company. But first bring me a Pipe;
I'll smoak.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To a Servant.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Lord, Sir <em>John</em>, I wonder you won't
leave that nasty Custom.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Pr'ythee, don't be impertinent.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>To Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>.</em>] I wonder who those People are
he expects this Afternoon?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I'd give the World to know: Perhaps
'tis <em>Constant</em>&mdash;he comes here sometimes: if it does prove
him, I'm resolv'd I'll share the Visit.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> We'll send for our Work, and sit here.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> He'll choak us with his Tobacco.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Nothing will choak us when we are doing what
we have a mind to. <em>Lovewell!</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lovewell</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Here; bring my Cousin's Work and mine
hither.</p>

<p class="directcenter">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lov</span>. and re-enters with their Work.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Whu! Pox, can't you work somewhere else?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> We shall be careful not to disturb you, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Your Pipe would make you too thoughtful,
Uncle, if you were left alone; our Prittle-prattle will
cure your Spleen.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Will it so, Mrs. Pert? Now I believe it will
so increase it, [<em>Sitting and smoaking.</em>] I shall take my own
House for a Paper-mill.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Bel</span>. aside.</em>] Don't let's mind him; let
him say what he will.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> A Woman's Tongue a Cure for the
Spleen!&mdash;Oons&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] If a Man had got the Head-ach,
they'd be for applying the same Remedy.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You have done a great deal, <em>Belinda</em>,
since yesterday.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes, I have work'd very hard; how do you
like it?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O, 'tis the prettiest Fringe in the World.
Well, Cousin, you have the happiest Fancy: Pr'ythee,
advise me about altering my Crimson Petticoat.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> A Pox o' your Petticoat! Here's such a Prating,
a Man can't digest his own Thoughts for you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Don't answer him. [<em>Aside.</em>] Well, what
do you advise me?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, really, I would not alter it at all. Methinks
'tis very pretty as it is.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ay, that's, true: But you know one
grows weary of the prettiest things in the World, when
one has had 'em long.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Yes, I have taught her that.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Shall we provoke him a little?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> With all my Heart. <em>Belinda</em>, don't you
long to be marry'd?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, there are some things in it I could like
well enough.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What do you think you shou'd dislike?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> My Husband, a hundred to one else.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O ye wicked Wretch! Sure you don't
speak as you think?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes, I do: especially if he smoak'd Tobacco.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He looks earnestly at 'em.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, that many times takes off worse
Smells.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then he must smell very ill indeed.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> So some Men will, to keep their Wives
from coming near 'em.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then those Wives shou'd cuckold 'em at a distance.</p>

<div class="directcenter"><em>He rises in a Fury, throws his Pipe at 'em, and drives
'em out. As they run off, <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span> enter.
Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> runs against <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>.</em></div>

<p><em>Sir John.</em>. 'Oons, get you gone up Stairs, you confederating
Strumpets you, o I'll cuckold you, with a Vengeance!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O Lord, he'll beat us, he'll beat us.
Dear, dear Mr. <em>Constant</em>, save us!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I'll cuckold you, with a Pox.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Heav'n! Sir <em>John</em>, what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sure, if Women had been ready created,
the Devil, instead of being kick'd down into Hell, had
been marry'd.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, what new Plague have you found now?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, these two Gentlewomen did but hear
me say, I expected you here this Afternoon; upon
which they presently resolv'd to take up the Room, o'
purpose to plague me and my Friends.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Was that all? Why, we shou'd have been glad
of their Company.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then I should have been weary of yours;
for I can't relish both together. They found fault with
my smoaking Tobacco, too; and said Men stunk. But I
have a good mind&mdash;to say something.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> No, nothing against the Ladies, pray.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Split the Ladies! Come, will you sit
down? Give us some Wine, Fellow: You won't smoak?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em>. No; nor drink, neither, at this time&mdash;I must ask
your Pardon.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What, this Mistress of yours runs in your
Head! I'll warrant it's some such squeamish Minx as my
Wife, that's grown so dainty of late, she finds fault even
with a dirty Shirt.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> That a Woman may do, and not be very
dainty, neither.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Pox o' the Women! let's drink. Come, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
shall take one Glass, tho' I send for a Box of Lozenges
to sweeten your Mouth after it.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, if one Glass will satisfy you, I'll drink
it, without putting you to that Expence.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, that's honest. Fill some Wine, Sirrah:
So here's to you, Gentlemen&mdash;A Wife's the Devil.
To your being both married.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They drink.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> O, your most humble Servant, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Well, how do you like my Wine?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> 'Tis very good, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> 'Tis admirable.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then give us t'other Glass.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> No, pray excuse us now: We'll come another
time, and then we won't spare it.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> This one Glass, and no more: Come, it
shall be your Mistress's Health: And that's a great
Compliment from me, I assure you.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> And 'tis a very obliging one to me: So give us
the Glasses.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> So: let her live&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> coughs in the Glass.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And be kind.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> What's the matter? Does it go the wrong
way?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> If I had Love enough to be jealous, I shou'd
take this for an ill Omen: For I never drank my Wife's
Health in my Life, but I puk'd in the Glass.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O, she's too virtuous to make a reasonable
Man jealous.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Pox of her Virtue! If I cou'd but catch her
Adulterating, I might be divorc'd from her by Law.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And so pay her a yearly Pension, to be a distinguish'd
Cuckold.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, there's my Lord <em>Rake</em>, Colonel <em>Bully</em>, and some
other Gentlemen at the <em>Blue-Posts</em>, desire your Company.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Cod's so, we are to consult about playing
the Devil to-night.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Well, we won't hinder Business.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Methinks I don't know how to leave you,
tho': But for once I must make bold. Or look you;
may be the Conference mayn't last long: So, if you'll
wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come
then&mdash;why, then&mdash;I won't come at all.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Const</span>.</em>] A good modest Proposition, truly!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But let's accept on't, however. Who knows
what may happen?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Well, Sir, to shew you how fond we are of
your Company, we'll expect your Return as long as we
can.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Nay, may be I mayn't stay at all. But Business,
you know, must be done. So your Servant&mdash;Or
hark you, if you have a mind to take a Frisk with us,
I have an Interest with my Lord; I can easily introduce
you.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> We are much beholden to you; but for my
part, I'm engag'd another way.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What! to your Mistress, I'll warrant.
Pr'ythee, leave your nasty Punk to entertain herself with
her own lewd Thoughts, and make one with us to-night.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Sir, 'tis Business that is to employ me.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And me; and Business must be done, you
know.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Ay, Women's Business, tho' the World
were consum'd for't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Farewel, Beast! And now, my dear Friend,
would my Mistress be but as complaisant as some Men's
Wives, who think it a piece of good Breeding to receive
the Visits of their Husband's Friends in his Absence!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, for your sake I could forgive her, tho'
she should be so complaisant to receive something else in
his Absence. But what way shall we invent to see her?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O, ne'er hope it: Invention will prove as vain
as Wishes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> and <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> What do you think now, Friend?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I think I shall swoon.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I'll speak first, then, whilst you fetch breath.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> We think ourselves oblig'd, Gentlemen,
to come and return you thanks for your Knight-Errantry.
We were just upon being devour'd by the fiery Dragon.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Did not his Fumes almost knock you down, Gentlemen?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Truly, Ladies, we did undergo some Hardships;
and should have done more, if some greater Heroes
than ourselves, hard by, had not diverted him.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Tho' I'm glad of the Service you are pleas'd
to say we have done you, yet I'm sorry we could do it
in no other way, than by making ourselves privy to
what you would perhaps have kept a Secret.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> For Sir <em>John</em>'s part, I suppose he design'd
it no Secret, since he made so much Noise. And for
myself, truly I'm not much concern'd, since 'tis fallen
only into this Gentleman's Hands and yours; who, I
have many Reasons to believe, will neither interpret
nor report any thing to my disadvantage.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Your good Opinion, Madam, was what I
fear'd I never could have merited.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Your Fears were vain, then, Sir; for
I'm just to every body.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pr'ythee, <em>Constant</em>, what is't you do to get
the Ladies good Opinions? for I'm a Novice at it.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Sir, will you give me leave to instruct you?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Yes, that I will, with all my Soul, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, then, you must never be slovenly, never be
out of humour, fare well and cry Roast-meat, smoak
Tobacco, nor drink but when you are dry.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> That's hard.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, if you take his Bottle from him, you
break his Heart, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, is it possible the Gentleman can love
Drinking?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Only by way of Antidote.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Against what, pray?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Against Love, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Are you afraid of being in Love, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I should, if there were any Danger of it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Pray why so?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Because I always had an Aversion to being
us'd like a Dog.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, truly, Men in Love are seldom us'd better.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But was you never in Love, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> No, I thank Heav'n, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Pray, where got you your Learning, then?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> From other People's Expence.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> That's being a Spunger, Sir, which is scarce
honest: If you'd buy some Experience with your own
Money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so 'twould stick
longer by you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Footman.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Foot.</em> Madam, here's my Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>, to wait upon
your Ladyship.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Shield me, kind Heaven! What an Inundation
of Impertinence is here coming upon us!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span>, who runs first to Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>,
then to <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>, kissing 'em.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> My dear Lady <em>Brute</em>, and sweet <em>Belinda</em>,
methinks 'tis an Age since I saw you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yet 'tis but three Days; sure you have
pass'd your time very ill, it seems so long to you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, really, to confess the truth to you,
I am so everlastingly fatigu'd with the Addresses of unfortunate
Gentlemen, that, were it not for the Extravagancy
of the Example, I shou'd e'en tear out these
wicked Eyes with my own Fingers, to make both myself
and Mankind easy. What think you on't, Mr. <em>Heartfree</em>,
for I take you to be my faithful Adviser?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, truly, Madam&mdash;I think&mdash;every Project
that is for the good of Mankind ought to be encourag'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Then I have your Consent, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> To do whatever you please, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> You had a much more limited Complaisance
this Morning, Sir. Would you believe it, Ladies?
The Gentleman has been so exceeding generous, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
tell me of above fifty Faults, in less time than it was
well possible for me to commit two of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, truly, Madam, my Friend there is apt to
be something familiar with the Ladies.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> He is, indeed, Sir; but he's wondrous
charitable with it: He has had the Goodness to design a
Reformation, even down to my Fingers-ends.&mdash;&mdash;'Twas
thus, I think, Sir, [<em>Opening her fingers in an aukward
manner.</em>] you'd have had 'em stand&mdash;My Eyes, too,
he did not like: How was't you wou'd have directed
'em? Thus, I think. [<em>Staring at him.</em>]&mdash;Then there was
something amiss in my Gait, too: I don't know well how
'twas; but as I take it, he would have had me walk like
him. Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to take a turn or
two about the Room, that the Company may see you.&mdash;He's
sullen, Ladies, and won't. But, to make short,
and give you as true an Idea as I can of the matter, I
think 'twas much about this Figure, in general, he would
have moulded me to: But I was an obstinate Woman,
and could not resolve to make myself Mistress of his
Heart, by growing as aukward as his Fancy.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She walks aukwardly about, staring and looking ungainly,
then changes on a sudden to the Extremity of her
usual Affectation.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em>. Just thus Women do, when they think we are
in love with em, or when they are so with us.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Here <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> talk together apart.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> 'Twould, however, be less Vanity for me to
conclude the former, than you the latter, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em>. Madam, all I shall presume to conclude, is,
That if I wer in love, you'd find the means to make me
soon weary on't.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Not by Over-fondness, upon my Word,
Sir. But pray let's stop here; for you are so much govern'd
by Instinct, I know you'll grow brutish at last.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Now am I sure she's fond of him: I'll
try to make her jealous. Well, for my part, I should be
glad to find somebody would be so free with me, that I
might know my Faults, and mend 'em.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Then pray let me recommend this Gentleman
to you: I have known him some time, and will be
Surety for him, that upon a very limited Encouragement
on your side, you shall find an extended Impudence on his.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I thank you, Madam, for your Recommendation:
But hating Idleness, I'm unwilling to enter into
a Place where I believe there would be nothing to do. I
was fond of serving your Ladyship, because I knew
you'd find me constant Employment.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> I told you he'd be rude, <em>Belinda</em>.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> O, a little Bluntness is a sign of Honesty, which
makes me always ready to pardon it. So, Sir, if you
have no other Exceptions to my Service, but the fear of
being idle in it, you may venture to lift yourself: I shall
find you Work, I warrant you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Upon those Terms I engage, Madam; and
this (with your leave) I take for Earnest.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Offering to kiss her Hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Hold there, Sir; I'm none of your Earnest-givers.
But if I'm well serv'd, I give good Wages, and pay
punctually.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Heartf</span>. and <span class="antiqua">Bel</span>. seem to continue talking familiarly.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I don't like this jesting between
'em&mdash;Methinks the Fool begins to look as if he were in
earnest.&mdash;&mdash;But then he must be a Fool, indeed.&mdash;&mdash;Lard,
what a Difference there is between me and her!
[<em>Looking at <span class="antiqua">Bel</span>. scornfully.</em>] How I shou'd despise such a
Thing, if I were a Man!&mdash;--What a Nose she has!&mdash;What
a Chin&mdash;&mdash;What a Neck!&mdash;--Then her Eyes&mdash;&mdash;And
the worst kissing Lips in the Universe&mdash;&mdash;No, no,
he can never like her, that's positive&mdash;&mdash;Yet I can't
suffer 'em together any longer. Mr. <em>Heartfree</em>, do you
know that you and I must have no Quarrel for all this?
I can't forbear being a little severe now and then: But
Women, you know, may be allowed any thing.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Up to a certain Age, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Which I'm not yet past, I hope.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Nor never will, I dare swear.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>To Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>.</em>] Come, Madam, will your
Ladyship be Witness to our Reconciliation?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You agree, then, at last?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Slightingly.</em>] We forgive.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] That was a cold, ill-natur'd Reply.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then there's no Challenges sent between
you?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Not from me, I promise. [<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>.</em>]
But that's more than I'll do for her; for I know she can
as well be damn'd as forbear writing to me.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That I believe. But I think we had best be going,
lest she should suspect something, and be malicious.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> With all my heart.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Ladies, we are your humble Servants. I see Sir
<em>John</em> is quite engag'd, 'twould be in vain to expect him.
Come, <em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Ladies, your Servant. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>.</em>] I hope,
Madam, you won't forget our Bargain; I'm to say what
I please to you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Liberty of Speech entire, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Very pretty truly&mdash;But how the
Blockhead went out&mdash;languishing at her, and not a
Look toward me!&mdash;Well, Churchmen may talk, but
Miracles are not ceas'd. For 'tis more than natural,
such a rude Fellow as he, and such a little Impertinent
as she, should be capable of making a Woman of my
Sphere uneasy. But I can bear her sight no longer&mdash;&mdash;methinks
she's grown ten times uglier than <em>Cornet</em>. I
must home, and study Revenge. [<em>To Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>.</em>] Madam,
your humble Servant; I must take my leave.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What, going already, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> I must beg you'll excuse me this once; for
really I have eighteen Visits to return this Afternoon:
So you see I'm importun'd by the Women as well as the
Men.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] And she's quits with them both.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Going.</em>] Nay, you shan't go one Step out
of the Room.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Indeed I'll wait upon you down.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> No, sweet Lady <em>Brute</em>, you know I swoon
at Ceremony.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Pray give me leave.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> You know I won't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Indeed I must.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Indeed you shan't.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Indeed I will.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em>. Indeed you shan't.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Indeed I will.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Indeed you shan't. Indeed, indeed, indeed
you shan't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Fan</span>. running; they follow.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>This impertinent Woman has put me out of Humour
for a Fortnight&mdash;&mdash;What an agreeable Moment has
her foolish Visit interrupted! Lord, how like a Torrent
Love flows into the Heart, when once the Sluice of Desire
is open'd! Good Gods! What a Pleasure there is
in doing what we should not do!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Ha! here again?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Tho' the renewing my Visit may seem a little
irregular, I hope I shall obtain your Pardon for it, Madam,
when you know I only left the Room, lest the Lady
who was here should have been as malicious in her
Remarks as she's foolish in her Conduct.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> He who has Discretion enough to be
tender of a Woman's Reputation, carries a Virtue about
him may atone for a great many Faults.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> If it has a Title to atone for any, its Pretensions
must needs be strongest where the Crime is Love. I
therefore hope I shall be forgiven the Attempt I have
made upon your Heart, since my Enterprize has been a
Secret to all the World but yourself.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Secrecy, indeed, in Sins of this kind, is
an Argument of weight to lessen the Punishment; but
nothing's a Plea for a Pardon entire, without a sincere
Repentance.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> If Sincerity in Repentance consists in Sorrow
for offending, no Cloyster ever inclos'd so true a Penitent
as I should be. But I hope it cannot be reckon'd an
Offence to love where 'tis a Duty to adore.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis an Offence, a great one, where it
would rob a Woman of all she ought to be ador'd for&mdash;her
Virtue.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Virtue?&mdash;Virtue, alas! is no more like the
thing that's call'd so, than 'tis like Vice itself. Virtue
consists in Goodness, Honour, Gratitude, Sincerity, and
Pity; and not in peevish, snarling, strait-lac'd Chastity.
True Virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsick
Worth about it, and is in every Place, and in
each Sex, of equal Value. So is not Continence, you
see: That Phantom of Honour, which Men in every
Age have so contemned, they have thrown it amongst
the Women to scrabble for.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> If it be a thing of so little Value,
why do you so earnestly recommend it to your Wives
and Daughters?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> We recommend it to our Wives, Madam, because
we wou'd keep 'em to ourselves; and to our
Daughters, because we wou'd dispose of 'em to others.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis then, of some Importance, it seems,
since you can't dispose of them without it.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That Importance, Madam, lies in the Humour
of the Country, not in the Nature of the Thing.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> How do you prove that, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> From the Wisdom of a neighbouring Nation
in a contrary Practice. In Monarchies, things go by
Whimsy; but Commonwealths weigh all things in the
Scale of Reason.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I hope we are not so very light a People,
to bring up Fashions without some ground.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pray what does your Ladyship think of a powder'd
Coat for deep Mourning?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I think, Sir, your Sophistry has all the
effect that you can reasonably expect it should have; it
puzzles, but don't convince.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I'm sorry for it.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I'm sorry to hear you say so.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pray why?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Because, if you expected more from it,
you have a worse Opinion of my Understanding than I
desire you should have.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I comprehend her: She would have me
set a Value upon her Chastity, that I might think my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>self
the more oblig'd to her when she makes me a Present
of it. [<em>To her.</em>] I beg you will believe I did but rally,
Madam; I know you judge too well of Right and
Wrong, to be deceiv'd by Arguments like those. I
hope you'll have so favourable an Opinion of my Understanding
too, to believe the thing call'd Virtue has
Worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal Obligation
where'er 'tis sacrific'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> It is, I think, so great a one as nothing
can repay.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yes; the making the Man you love your everlasting
Debtor.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> When Debtors once have borrow'd all we
have to lend, they are very apt to grow shy of their Creditors'
Company.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That, Madam, is only when they are forc'd to
borrow of Usurers, and not of a generous Friend. Let
us choose our Creditors, and we are seldom so ungrateful
to shun 'em.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What think you of Sir <em>John</em>, Sir? I was
his free Choice.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I think he's married, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Does Marriage, then, exclude Men from
your Rule of Constancy?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> It does. Constancy's a brave, free, haughty,
generous Agent, that cannot buckle to the Chains of
Wedlock. There's a poor sordid Slavery in Marriage,
that turns the flowing Tide of Honour, and sinks us to
the lowest Ebb of Infamy. 'Tis a corrupted Soil: Ill-Nature,
Avarice, Sloth, Cowardice, and Dirt, are all its
Product.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Have you no Exceptions to this general
Rule, as well as to t'other?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yes; I would, after all, be an Exception to it
myself, if you were free in Power and Will to make me
so.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Compliments are well plac'd where 'tis
impossible to lay hold on 'em.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I wou'd to Heaven 'twere possible for you to
lay hold on mine, that you might see it is no Compli<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>ment
at all. But since you are already dispos'd of, beyond
Redemption, to one who does not know the Value
of the Jewel you have put into his Hands, I hope you
wou'd not think him greatly wrong'd, tho' it should
sometimes be look'd on by a Friend, who knows how
to esteem it as he ought.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> If looking on't alone wou'd serve his turn,
the Wrong, perhaps, might not be very great.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, what if he shou'd wear it now and then
a Day, so he gave good Security to bring it home again
at Night?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Small Security, I fancy, might serve for
that. One might venture to take his Word.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Then, where's the Injury to the Owner?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis an Injury to him, if he think it one.
For if Happiness be seated in the Mind, Unhappiness
must be so too.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Here I close with you, Madam, and draw my
conclusive Argument from your own Position: If the
Injury lie in the Fancy, there needs nothing but Secrecy
to prevent the Wrong.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Going.</em>] A surer way to prevent it, is to
hear no more Arguments in its behalf.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> [<em>Following her.</em>] But, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But, Sir, 'tis my turn to be discreet now,
and not suffer too long a Visit.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> [<em>Catching her Hand.</em>] By Heaven, you shall not
stir, till you give me hopes that I shall see you again at
some more convenient Time and Place!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I give you just hopes enough&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Breaking
from him.</em>] to get loose from you: and that's all I
can afford you at this time.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit running.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Constant</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>Now, by all that's great and good, she is a charming
Woman! In what Extasy of Joy she has left me! For
she gave me Hope, did she not say she gave me Hope?&mdash;Hope!
Ay: what Hope? Enough to make me let her
go&mdash;Why, that's enough in Conscience. Or, no matter
how 'twas spoke: Hope was the Word: it came from
her, and it was said to me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Ha, <em>Heartfree</em>! Thou hast done me noble Service in
prattling to the young Gentlewoman without there;
come to my Arms, thou venerable Bawd, and let me
squeeze thee [<em>Embracing him eagerly.</em>] as a new Pair of
Stays does a fat Country Girl, when she's carried to
Court to stand for a Maid of Honour.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, what the Devil's all this Rapture for?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Rapture! There's ground for Rapture, Man;
there's Hopes, my <em>Heartfree</em>, Hopes, my Friend!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Hopes! of what?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, Hopes that my Lady and I together
(for 'tis more than one Body's Work) should make Sir
<em>John</em> a Cuckold.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pr'ythee, what did she say to thee?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Say? What did she not say? She said that&mdash;&mdash;says
she&mdash;she said&mdash;Zoons, I don't know what she said;
but she look'd as if she said every thing I'd have her.
And so, if thou'lt go to the Tavern, I'll treat thee with
any thing that Gold can buy; I'll give all my Silver
amongst the Drawers, make a Bonfire before the Door;
say the Plenipo's have sign'd the Peace, and the Bank of
<em>England</em>'s grown honest.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>opens; Lord <span class="antiqua">Rake</span>, Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, &amp;c.
at a Table, drinking.</em></h4>

<p><em>All.</em> Huzza!</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Come, Boys, charge again&mdash;&mdash;So&mdash;Confusion
to all Order! Here's Liberty of Conscience.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Huzza!</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> I'll sing you a Song I made this Morning
to this purpose.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> 'Tis wicked, I hope.</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Don't my Lord tell you he made it?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Well, then, let's ha't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Rake</em> Sings.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>What a Pother of late</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Have they kept in the State,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>About setting our Consciences free!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>A Bottle has more</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Dispensations in store,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Than the King and the State can decree.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>When my Head's full of Wine,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I o'erflow with Design,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And know no <span class="antiqua">Penal-Laws</span> that can curb me:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Whate'er I devise</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Seems good in my Eyes,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And Religion ne'er dares to disturb me.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">III.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>No saucy Remorse</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Intrudes in my Course,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nor impertinent Notions of Evil;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>So there's Claret in store,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>In Peace I've my Whore,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And in Peace I jog on to the Devil.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">All sing. <em>So there's Claret</em>, &amp;c.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> [Rep.] <em>And in Peace I jog on to the Devil.</em>
Well, how do you like it, Gentlemen?</p>

<p><em>All.</em> O, admirable!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I would not give a Fig for a Song that is
not full of Sin and Impudence.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Then my Muse is to your Taste. But
drink away; the Night steals upon us; we shall want
Time to be lewd in. Hey, Page! Sally out, Sirrah, and
see what's doing in the Camp; we'll beat up their
Quarters presently.</p>

<p><em>Page.</em> I'll bring your Lordship an exact Account.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Page.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em>. Now let the Spirit of Clary go round.
Fill me a Brimmer Here's to our Forlorn Hope. Courage,
Knight, Victory attends you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And Laurels shall crown me; drink away,
and be damn'd.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Again, Boys; t'other Glass, and damn
Morality.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Drunk.</em>] Ay&mdash;damn Morality&mdash;and damn
the Watch. And let the Constable be married.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Huzza!</p>

<p><em>Re-enter Page.</em></p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> How are the Streets inhabited, Sirrah?</p>

<p><em>Page.</em> My Lord, 'tis Sunday-night; they are full of
drunken Citizens.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Along, then, Boys, we shall have a Feast.</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Along, noble Knight.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Ay&mdash;&mdash;along, <em>Bully</em>; and he that says Sir
<em>John Brute</em> is not as drunk and as religious as the
drunkenest Citizen of them all&mdash;is a Liar, and the Son
of a Whore.</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Why, that was bravely spoke, and like a
free-born <em>Englishman</em>.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What's that to you, Sir, whether I am an
<em>Englishman</em> or a <em>Frenchman</em>?</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Zoons, you are not angry, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Zoons, I am angry, Sir&mdash;&mdash;for if I'm a
free-born <em>Englishman</em>, what have you to do even to
talk of my Privileges?</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Why, pr'ythee, Knight, don't quarrel here;
leave private Animosities to be decided by Day-light; let
the Night be employ'd against the publick Enemy.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> My Lord, I respect you because you are a
Man of Quality. But I'll make that Fellow know, I
am within a Hair's breadth as absolute by my Privileges,
as the King of <em>France</em> is by his Prerogative. He by his
Prerogative takes Money where it is not his due; I by
my Privilege refuse paying it where I owe it. Liberty
and Property, and <em>Old England</em>, Huzza!</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Huzza!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> reeling, all following him.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Bed-Chamber.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lady Brute</span> and <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Sure 'tis late, <em>Belinda</em>; I begin to be
sleepy.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes, 'tis near Twelve. Will you go to Bed?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> To Bed, my Dear? And by that time
I am fallen into a sweet Sleep (or perhaps a sweet Dream,
which is better and better) Sir <em>John</em> will come home
roaring drunk, and be overjoy'd he finds me in a Condition
to be disturb'd.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> O, you need not fear him; he's in for all
Night. The Servants say he's gone to drink with my
Lord <em>Rake</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Nay, 'tis not very likely, indeed, such
suitable Company should part presently. What Hogs
Men turn, <em>Belinda</em>, when they grow weary of Women!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> And what Owls they are, whilst they are fond
of 'em!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But That we may forgive well enough,
because they are so upon our accounts.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> We ought to do so, indeed; but 'tis a hard matter.
For when a Man is really in love, he looks so unsufferably
silly, that tho' a Woman lik'd him well
enough before, she has then much ado to endure the
Sight of him: And this I take to be the Reason why
Lovers are so generally ill-us'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Well, I own, now, I'm well enough
pleased to see a Man look like an Ass for me.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Ay, I'm pleas'd he should look like an Ass,
too;&mdash;that is, I'm pleased with myself for making him
look so.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Nay, truly, I think if he'd find some other
way to express his Passion, 'twould be more to his advantage.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes; for then a Woman might like his Passion
and him too.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yet, <em>Belinda</em>, after all, a Woman's Life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
would be but a dull Business, if it were not for Men;
and Men that can look like Asses, too. We shou'd never
blame Fate for the shortness of our Days; our Time
would hang wretchedly upon our Hands.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, truly, they do help us off with a good share
on't: For were there no Men in the World, o'my Conscience,
I shou'd be no longer a-dressing than I'm a-saying
my Prayers; nay, tho' it were Sunday: For you
know that one may go to Church without Stays on.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But don't you think Emulation might do
something? For every Woman you see desires to be
finer than her Neighbour.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> That's only that the Men may like her better
than her Neighbour. No, if there were no Men, adieu
fine Petticoats, we should be weary of wearing 'em.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And adieu Plays, we should be weary of
seeing 'em.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Adieu <em>Hyde Park</em>, the Dust would choak us.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Adieu <em>St. James</em>'s, walking would tire us.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Adieu <em>London</em>, the Smoke would stifle us.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And adieu going to Church, for Religion
wou'd ne'er prevail with us.</p>

<p><em>Both.</em> Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Our Confession is so very hearty, sure we merit
Absolution.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Not unless we go thro' with't, and confess
all. So, pr'ythee, for the Ease of our Consciences,
let's hide nothing.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Agreed.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, then, I confess, that I love to sit in
the Fore-front of a Box; for if one sits behind, there's
two Acts gone, perhaps, before one's found out. And
when I am there, if I perceive the Men whispering and
looking upon me, you must know I cannot for my
Life forbear thinking they talk to my Advantage; and
that sets a thousand little tickling Vanities on foot&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Just my Case, for all the World; but go on.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I watch with Impatience for the next Jest
in the Play, that I might laugh, and shew my white
Teeth. If the Poet has been dull, and the Jest be long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
a-coming, I pretend to whisper one to my Friend, and
from thence fall into a little small Discourse, in which
I take occasion to shew my Face in all Humours, brisk,
pleas'd, serious, melancholy, languishing&mdash;&mdash;Not that
what we say to one another causes any of these alterations.
But&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Don't trouble yourself to explain. For if I'm
not mistaken, you and I have had some of these necessary
Dialogues before now with the same Intention.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, I swear, <em>Belinda</em>, some People do
give strange agreeable Airs to their Faces in speaking.
Tell me true&mdash;Did you never practise in the Glass?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, did you?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yes, 'faith, many a time.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> And I too, I own it; both how to speak myself,
and how to look when others speak. But my Glass
and I could never yet agree what Face I should make
when they come blunt out with a nasty thing in a Play:
For all the Men presently look upon the Women, that's
certain: so laugh we must not, tho' our Stays burst
for't, because that's telling Truth, and owning we understand
the Jest. And to look serious is so dull, when
the whole House is a laughing&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Besides, that looking serious does really
betray our Knowledge in the matter, as much as laughing
with the Company would do: For if we did not
understand the thing, we shou'd naturally do like other
People.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> For my part, I always take that occasion to blow
my Nose.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You must blow your Nose half off, then, at
some Plays.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why don't some Reformer or other be at the
Poet for't?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Because he is not so sure of our private
Approbation, as of our publick Thanks. Well, sure
there is not upon Earth so impertinent a thing as
Women's Modesty.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes: Men's Fantasque, that obliges us to it. If
we quit our Modesty, they say we lose our Charms:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
and yet they know that very Modesty is Affectation, and
rail at our Hypocrisy.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Thus, one would think 'twere a hard matter
to please 'em, Niece; yet our kind Mother Nature
has given us something that makes amends for all. Let
our Weakness be what it will, Mankind will still be
weaker; and whilst there is a World, 'tis Woman that
will govern it. But, pr'ythee, one Word of poor <em>Constant</em>
before we go to bed, if it be but to furnish matter
for Dreams: I dare swear he's talking of me now, or
thinking of me at least, tho' it be in the middle of his
Prayers.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> So he ought, I think; for you were pleas'd to
make him a good round Advance to-day, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, I have e'en plagu'd him enough to
satisfy any reasonable Woman: He has besieg'd me
these two Years, to no purpose.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> And if he besieg'd you two Years more, he'd be
well enough pay'd, so he had the plundering of you at
last.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> That may be; but I'm afraid the Town
won't be able to hold out much longer: for to confess
the Truth to you, <em>Belinda</em>, the Garrison begins to grow
mutinous.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then the sooner you capitulate, the better.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yet, methinks, I wou'd fain stay a little
longer to see you fix'd too, that we might start together,
and see who cou'd love longest. What think you, if
<em>Heartfree</em> shou'd have a Month's Mind to you?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, 'faith, I cou'd almost be in love with him
for despising that foolish, affected Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>; but
I'm afraid he's too cold ever to warm himself by my Fire.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then he deserves to be froze to death.
Wou'd I were a Man for your sake, dear Rogue!
[<em>Kissing her.</em>]</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> You'd wish yourself a Woman again for your own,
or the Men are mistaken. But if I cou'd make a Conquest
of this Son of <em>Bacchus</em>, and rival his Bottle,
what shou'd I do with him? He has no Fortune, I
can't marry him: and sure you wou'd not have me commit
Fornication?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, if you did, Child, 'twould be but
a good friendly part; if 'twere only to keep me in countenance
whilst I commit&mdash;you know what.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Well, if I can't resolve to serve you that way, I
may perhaps some other, as much to your Satisfaction.
But pray how shall we contrive to see these Blades
again quickly?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> We must e'en have recourse to the old
way; make 'em an Appointment 'twixt Jest and Earnest;
'twill look like a Frolick, and that you know 's a
very good thing to save a Woman's Blushes.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> You advise well; but where shall it be?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> In <em>Spring Garden</em>. But they shan't know
their Women, till their Women pull off their Masks;
for a Surprize is the most agreeable thing in the World:
And I find myself in a very good Humour, ready to do
'em any good turn I can think on.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then pray write 'em the necessary Billet, without
farther delay.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Let's go into your Chamber, then, and
whilst you say your Prayers I'll do it, Child.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-180.jpg" width="700" height="40" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_IV3" id="ACT_IV3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Covent Garden</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Rake</span>, Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, &amp;c. with Swords drawn.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span>s</span> the Dog dead?</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> No, damn him, I heard him
wheeze.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> How the Witch his Wife howl'd!</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Ay, she'll alarm the Watch presently.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Appear, Knight, then; come, you have
a good Cause to fight for&mdash;there's a Man murder'd.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Is there? Then let his Ghost be satisfy'd;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
for I'll sacrifice a Constable to it presently, and burn his
Body upon his wooden Chair.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Taylor, with a Bundle under his Arm.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> How now? What have we got here? A
Thief.</p>

<p><em>Taylor.</em> No, an't please you, I'm no Thief.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> That we'll see presently: Here, let the
General examine him.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Ay, ay, let me examine him, and I'll lay
a hundred Pound I find him guilty, in spite of his Teeth&mdash;for
he looks&mdash;like a&mdash;sneaking Rascal. Come, Sirrah,
without Equivocation or mental Reservation, tell
me of what Opinion you are, and what Calling; for
by them&mdash;&mdash;I shall guess at your Morals.</p>

<p><em>Taylor.</em> An't please you, I'm a Dissenting Journeyman
Taylor.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then, Sirrah, you love Lying by your
Religion, and Theft by your Trade: And so, that
your Punishment may be suitable to your Crimes&mdash;I'll
have you first gagg'd&mdash;and then hang'd.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> Pray, good worthy Gentlemen, don't abuse me:
indeed I'm an honest Man, and a good Workman, tho'
I say it, that should not say it.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No Words, Sirrah, but attend your Fate.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Let me see what's in that Bundle.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> An't please you, it is the Doctor of the Parish's
Gown.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> The Doctor's Gown!&mdash;--Hark you,
Knight, you won't stick at abusing the Clergy, will you?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No, I'm drunk, and I'll abuse any thing&mdash;but
my Wife; and her I name&mdash;with Reverence.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Then you shall wear this Gown, whilst
you charge the Watch; that tho' the Blows fall upon
you, the Scandal may light upon the Church.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> A generous Design&mdash;&mdash;by all the Gods&mdash;&mdash;give
it me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Takes the Gown, and puts it on.</em></p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> O dear Gentlemen, I shall be quite undone, if
you take the Gown.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Retire, Sirrah; and since you carry off your
Skin&mdash;go home and be happy.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> [<em>Pausing.</em>] I think I had e'en as good follow
the Gentleman's friendly Advice; for if I dispute any
longer, who knows but the Whim may take him to case
me? These Courtiers are fuller of Tricks than they are
of Money; they'll sooner cut a Man's Throat, than pay
his Bill.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Taylor</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> So, how do you like my Shapes now?</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> This will do to a Miracle; he looks like
a Bishop going to the Holy War. But to your Arms,
Gentlemen, the Enemy appears.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Constable and Watch.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Stand! Who goes there? Come before the
Constable.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> The Constable is a Rascal&mdash;&mdash;and you are
the Son of a Whore.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> A good civil Answer for a Parson, truly!</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Methinks, Sir, a Man of your Coat might
set a better Example.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sirrah, I'll make you know&mdash;&mdash;there are
Men of my Coat can set as bad Examples&mdash;&mdash;as you can
do, you Dog, you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> strikes the Constable. They knock him down,
disarm him, and seize him. Lord Rake, &amp;c. run away.</em></p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> So, we have secur'd the Parson, however.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Blood, and Blood&mdash;&mdash;and Blood.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Lord have mercy upon us! How the wicked
Wretch raves of Blood! I'll warrant he has been murdering
some body to-night.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sirrah, there's nothing got by Murder but
a Halter: My Talent lies towards Drunkenness and
Simony.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Why, that now was spoke like a Man of Parts,
Neighbours; 'tis pity he shou'd be so disguised.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You lye&mdash;&mdash;I'm not disguis'd; for I am
drunk barefac'd.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Look you there again&mdash;This is a mad Parson,
Mr. <em>Constable</em>; I'll lay a Pot of Ale upon 's Head, he's
a good Preacher.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Come, Sir, out of respect to your Calling, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
shan't put you into the Round-house; but we must secure
you in our Drawing-room till Morning, that you
may do no Mischief. So, come along.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You may put me where you will, Sirrah,
now you have overcome me&mdash;&mdash;But if I can't do
Mischief, I'll think of Mischief&mdash;in spite of your Teeth,
you Dog, you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Bed-Chamber.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">What</span> the Plague ails me?&mdash;&mdash;Love? No, I
thank you for that, my Heart's Rock still&mdash;&mdash;Yet
'tis <em>Belinda</em> that disturbs me; that's positive&mdash;&mdash;Well,
what of all that? Must I love her for being troublesome?
At that rate I might love all the Women I
meet, I'gad. But hold!&mdash;Tho' I don't love her for disturbing
me, yet she may disturb me, because I love her&mdash;&mdash;Ay,
that may be, 'faith. I have dreamt of her,
that's certain&mdash;&mdash;Well, so I have of my Mother; therefore
what's that to the purpose? Ay, but <em>Belinda</em> runs
in my Mind waking&mdash;and so does many a damn'd
thing that I don't care a Farthing for&mdash;&mdash;Methinks,
tho', I would fain be talking to her, and yet I have no
Business&mdash;&mdash;Well, am I the first Man that has had a
Mind to do an impertinent thing?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> How now, <em>Heartfree</em>? What makes you up
and dress'd so soon? I thought none but Lovers quarrell'd
with their Beds; I expected to have found you
snoring, as I us'd to do.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, 'faith, Friend, 'tis the Care I have of
your Affairs, that makes me so thoughtful; I have been
studying all Night how to bring your matter about with
<em>Belinda</em>.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> With <em>Belinda</em>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> With my Lady, I mean: And, 'faith, I have
mighty Hopes on't. Sure you must be very well satisfied
with her Behaviour to you yesterday?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> So well, that nothing but a Lover's Fears can
make me doubt of Success. But what can this sudden
Change proceed from?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, you saw her Husband beat her, did you not?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That's true: A Husband is scarce to be borne
upon any terms, much less when he fights with his Wife.
Methinks, she shou'd e'en have cuckolded him upon the
very spot, to shew that after the Battle she was Master
of the Field.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> A Council of War of Women wou'd infallibly
have advis'd her to't. But, I confess, so agreeable
a Woman as <em>Belinda</em> deserves better Usage.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> <em>Belinda</em> again!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> My Lady, I mean. What a Pox makes me
blunder so to-day? [<em>Aside.</em>] A Plague of this treacherous
Tongue!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pr'ythee, look upon me seriously, <em>Heartfree</em>&mdash;Now
answer me directly: Is it my Lady, or <em>Belinda</em>,
employs your careful Thoughts thus?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> My Lady, or <em>Belinda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> In Love; by this Light, in Love.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> In Love!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, ne'er deny it; for thou'lt do it so aukwardly,
'twill but make the Jest sit heavier about thee.
My dear Friend, I give thee much Joy.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, pr'ythee, you won't persuade me to it,
will you?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That she's Mistress of your Tongue, that's
plain; and I know you are so honest a Fellow, your
Tongue and Heart always go together. But how, but
how the Devil? Pha, ha, ha, ha&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Hey-dey! Why, sure you don't believe it in
earnest?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yes, I do, because I see you deny it in jest.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, but look you, <em>Ned</em>&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;deny in jest&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;gadzooks,
you know I say&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;when a
Man denies a thing in jest&mdash;a&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pha, ha, ha, ha, ha.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, then we shall have it: What, because
a Man stumbles at a Word: did you never make a Blunder?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yes; for I am in Love, I own it.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Then, so am I&mdash;Now laugh till thy Soul's
glutted with Mirth. [<em>Embracing him.</em>] But, dear <em>Constant</em>,
don't tell the Town on't.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, then, 'twere almost pity to laugh at thee,
after so honest a Confession. But tell us a little, <em>Jack</em>,
by what new-invented Arms has this mighty Stroke been
given?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> E'en by that unaccountable Weapon call'd
<em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em>: For every thing that can come within
the Verge of Beauty, I have seen it with indifference.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> So in few Words, then, the <em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em> has
been too hard for the quilted Petticoat.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I'gad, I think the <em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em> is in the
quilted Petticoat; at least 'tis certain, I ne'er think on't
without&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;a <em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em> in every Part about
me.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, but have all your Remedies lost their
Virtue? Have you turn'd her inside out yet?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I dare not so much as think on't.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But don't the two Years Fatigue I have had
discourage you?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Yes: I dread what I foresee; yet cannot quit
the Enterprize. Like some Soldiers, whose Courage
dwells more in their Honour, than their Nature&mdash;on
they go, tho' the Body trembles at what the Soul makes
it undertake.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, if you expect your Mistress will use you
as your Profanations against her Sex deserve, you tremble
justly. But how do you intend to proceed, Friend?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Thou know'st I'm but a Novice; be friendly,
and advise me.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, look you, then: I'd have you&mdash;Serenade
and a&mdash;&mdash;write a Song&mdash;&mdash;Go to Church; Look like a
Fool&mdash;&mdash;Be very officious; Ogle, write and lead out:
And who knows but in a Year or two's time you may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
be&mdash;&mdash;call'd a troublesome Puppy, and sent about
your Business.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> That's hard.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Yet thus it oft falls out with Lovers, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pox on me for making one of the Number!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Have a care: Say no saucy things; 'twill but
augment your Crime; and if your Mistress hears on't,
increase your Punishment.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Pr'ythee say something, then, to encourage
me; you know I help'd you in your Distress.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, then, to encourage you to Perseverance,
tho' you may be thoroughly ill-us'd for your Offences;
I'll put you in mind, that even the coyest Ladies of 'em
all are made up of Desires, as well as we; and tho'
they do hold out a long time, they will capitulate at
last. For that thundering Engineer, Nature, does
make such havock in the Town, they must surrender
at long run, or perish in their own Flames.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Footman.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Foot.</em> Sir, there's a Porter without with a Letter; he
desires to give it into your own Hands.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Call him in.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Porter.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> What, <em>Joe</em>! Is it thee?</p>

<p><em>Porter.</em> An't please you, Sir, I was order'd to deliver
this into your own Hands by two well-shap'd Ladies, at
the <em>New Exchange</em>. I was at your Honour's Lodgings,
and your Servants sent me hither.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> 'Tis well; are you to carry any Answer?</p>

<p><em>Porter.</em> No, my noble Master. They gave me my
Orders, and whip they were gone, like a Maidenhead
at Fifteen.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Very well; there.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives him Money.</em></p>

<p><em>Porter.</em> God bless your Honour!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Porter.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Now let's see what honest, trusty <em>Joe</em> has
brought us.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Reads.</em></p>

<div class="blockquot">

<p><em>If you and your Play-Fellow can spare time from your
Business and Devotions, don't fail to be at <span class="antiqua">Spring-Garden</span>
about Eight in the Evening. You'll find nothing
there but Women, so you need bring no other Arms than
what you usually carry about you.</em></p></div>

<p>So, Play-fellow: here's something to stay your Stomach
till your Mistress's Dish is ready for you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Some of our old batter'd Acquaintance. I
won't go, not I.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, that you can't avoid; there's Honour
in the Case; 'tis a Challenge, and I want a Second.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I doubt I shall be but a very useless one to
you; for I'm so dishearten'd by this Wound <em>Belinda</em> has
given me, I don't think I shall have Courage enough
to draw my Sword.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O, if that be all, come along; I'll warrant
you find Sword enough for such Enemies as we have to
deal withal.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Street</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Constable, &amp;c. with Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Come along, Sir; I thought to have let you
slip this Morning, because you were a Minister;
but you are as drunk and as abusive as ever.
We'll see what the Justice of the Peace will say to you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And you shall see what I'll say to the
Justice of the Peace, Sirrah.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They knock at the Door.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Pray, acquaint his Worship, we have got an
unruly Parson here: We are unwilling to expose him,
but don't know what to do with him.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> I'll acquaint my Master.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Serv.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You&mdash;&mdash;Constable&mdash;What damn'd Justice
is this?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> One that will take Care of you, I warrant
you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Justice.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Well, Mr. Constable, what's the Disorder here?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> An't please your Worship&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Let me speak, and be damn'd: I'm a Divine,
and can unfold Mysteries better than you can do.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Sadness, sadness! A Minister so overtaken! Pray,
Sir, give the Constable leave to speak, and I'll hear you
very patiently: I assure you, Sir, I will.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;You are a very civil Magistrate!
Your most humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> An't please your Worship, then, he has attempted
to beat the Watch to-night, and swore&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You lye.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Hold, pray, Sir, a little.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, your very humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Indeed, Sir, he came at us without any Provocation,
call'd us Whores and Rogues, and laid us on
with a great Quarter-staff. He was in my Lord <em>Rake</em>'s
Company: They have been playing the Devil to-night.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Hem&mdash;&mdash;Hem&mdash;&mdash;Pray, Sir&mdash;&mdash;may you be
Chaplain to my Lord?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;I presume&mdash;&mdash;I may if I will.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> My meaning, Sir, is&mdash;&mdash;Are you so?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;You mean very well.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> He, hem&mdash;&mdash;hem&mdash;&mdash;Under Favour, Sir, pray
answer me directly.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Under Favour, Sir&mdash;&mdash;Do you use to answer
directly when you are drunk?</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Good lack, good lack! Here's nothing to be
got from him: Pray, Sir, may I crave your Name?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;My Name's&mdash;&mdash;[<em>He hiccups.</em>]
Hiccup, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Hiccup? Doctor <em>Hiccup</em>, I have known a great
many Country Parsons of that Name, especially down
in the <em>Fenns</em>. Pray where do you live, Sir?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Here&mdash;&mdash;and there, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Why, what a strange Man is this! Where do
you preach, Sir? Have you any Cure?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;I have&mdash;&mdash;a very good Cure&mdash;&mdash;for
a Clap, at your Service.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Lord have mercy upon us!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This Fellow asks so many impertinent
Questions, I believe, I'gad, 'tis the Justice's
Wife in the Justice's Clothes.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Mr. Constable, I vow and protest, I don't know
what to do with him.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Truly, he has been but a troublesome Guest
to us all Night.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I think, I had e'en best let him go about his
Business; for I'm unwilling to expose him.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> E'en what your Worship thinks fit.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;not to interrupt Mr. Constable, I
have a small Favour to ask.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Sir, I open both my Ears to you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, your very humble Servant. I have a
little urgent Business calls upon me; and therefore I desire
the Favour of you to bring Matters to a Conclusion.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Sir, if I were sure that Business were not to
commit more Disorders, I wou'd release you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> None&mdash;&mdash;By my Priesthood!</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Then, Mr. Constable, you may discharge him.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, your very humble Servant. If you
please to accept of a Bottle&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I thank you, kindly, Sir; but I never drink
in a Morning. Good-by t'ye, Sir, good-by t'ye.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Good by t'ye, good Sir. [<em>Exit Justice.</em>] So&mdash;&mdash;now,
Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up a
Whore together?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> No, thank you, Sir; my Wife's enough to
satisfy any reasonable Man.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] He, he, he, he&mdash;the Fool is
married, then. Well, you won't go?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Not I, truly.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then I'll go by myself; and you and your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
Wife may be damn'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Constable.</em> [<em>Gazing after him.</em>] Why, God a-mercy,
Parson?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Spring-Garden</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span> cross the Stage. As they go off,
enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span> mask'd, and
dogging 'em.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> So; I think we are about the time appointed:
let us walk up this way.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Good: Thus far I have dogg'd 'em without
being discover'd. 'Tis infallibly some Intrigue that
brings them to <em>Spring-Garden</em>. How my poor Heart is
torn and rackt with Fear and Jealousy! Yet let it be
any thing but that Flirt <em>Belinda</em>, and I'll try to bear it.
But if it prove her, all that's Woman in me shall be employ'd
to destroy her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt after <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>, Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and
<span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span> still following at a Distance</em>.
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I see no Females yet, that have any thing to say
to us. I'm afraid we are banter'd.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I wish we were; for I'm in no Humour to
make either them or myself merry.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, I'm sure you'll make them merry enough,
if I tell 'em why you are dull. But pr'ythee why so
heavy and sad before you begin to be ill us'd?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> For the same Reason, perhaps, that you are so
brisk and well pleas'd; because both Pains and Pleasures
are generally more considerable in Prospect, than when
they come to pass.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> and <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>, mask'd and poorly dress'd.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> How now! who are these? Not our Game, I
hope.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> If they are, we are e'en well enough serv'd, to
come a-hunting here, when we had so much better Game
in Chase elsewhere.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>To Madamoiselle.</em>] So, those are their Ladies,
without doubt. But I'm afraid that <em>Doily</em> Stuff is
not worn for want of better Clothes. They are the very
Shape and Size of <em>Belinda</em> and her Aunt.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> So dey be inteed, Matam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> We'll slip into this close Arbour, where
we may hear all they say.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What, are you afraid of us, Gentlemen?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, truly, I think we may, if Appearance
don't lye.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Do you always find Women what they appear to
be, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> No, forsooth; but I seldom find 'em better
than they appear to be.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then the Outside's best, you think?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> 'Tis the honestest.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Have a care, <em>Heartfree</em>; you are relapsing again.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, does the Gentleman use to rail at
Women?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> He has done formerly.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I suppose he had very good Cause for't. They
did not use you so well as you thought you deserv'd, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> They made themselves merry at your Expence,
Sir.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Laugh'd when you sigh'd&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Slept while you were waking&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Had your Porter beat&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And threw your Billet-doux in the Fire.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Hey-day, I shall do more than rail presently.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Why, you won't beat us, will you?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I don't know but I may.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> What the Devil's coming here? Sir <em>John</em> in a
Gown&mdash;&mdash;And drunk, i'faith.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What a Pox&mdash;&mdash;here's <em>Constant</em>, <em>Heartfree</em>&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>and
two Whores, I'gad&mdash;&mdash;O you covetous Rogues!
what, have you never a spare Punk for your Friend?&mdash;&mdash;But
I'll share with you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He seizes both the Women.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, what the plague have you been doing,
Knight?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, I have been beating the Watch, and
scandalizing the Clergy.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> A very good Account, truly.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And what do you think I'll do next?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em>. Nay, that no Man can guess.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, if you'll let me sup with you, I'll
treat both your Strumpets.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] O Lord, we're undone!</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> No, we can't sup together, because we have
some Affairs elsewhere. But if you'll accept of these
two Ladies, we'll be so complaisant to you, to resign our
Right in 'em.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Lord, what shall we do?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Let me see; their Clothes are such damn'd
Clothes, they won't pawn for the Reckoning.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> <em>Sir John</em>, your Servant. Rapture attend you!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Adieu, Ladies, make much of the Gentleman.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, sure, you won't leave us in the Hands
of a drunken Fellow to abuse us.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Who do you call a drunken Fellow, you
Slut you? I'm a Man of Quality; the King has made
me a Knight.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Heart.</span> runs off.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Ay, ay, you are in good Hands! Adieu,
Adieu!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> The Devil's Hands: Let me go, or
I'll&mdash;For Heaven's sake, protect us!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She breaks from him, runs to <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>, twitching off
her Mask, and clapping it on again.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I'll Devil you, you Jade you. I'll demolish
your ugly Face.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Hold a little, Knight, she swoons.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I'll swoon her.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Hey, <em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>. <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span> runs to him, and shews her
Face.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> O Heavens! My dear Creature, stand there a
little.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pull him off, <em>Jack</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Hold, mighty Man; look ye, Sir, we did
but jest with you. These are Ladies of our Acquaintance
that we had a mind to frighten a little, but now you
must leave us.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Oons, I won't leave you, not I.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, but you must, though; and therefore
make no Words on't.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then you are a couple of damned uncivil
Fellows. And I hope your Punks will give you Sauce
to your Mutton.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Oh, I shall never come to myself again,
I'm so frightened.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> 'Twas a narrow 'Scape, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Women must have Frolicks, you see, whatever
they cost them.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> This might have proved a dear one, though.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You are the more obliged to us for the
Risk we run upon your Accounts.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> And I hope you'll acknowledge something due
to our Knight-Errantry, Ladies. This is the second
time we have delivered you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis true; and since we see Fate has designed
you for our Guardians, 'twill make us the more
willing to trust ourselves in your Hands. But you must
not have the worse Opinion of us for our innocent Frolick.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Ladies, you may command our Opinions in
every thing that is to your Advantage.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then, Sir, I command you to be of Opinion,
That Women are sometimes better than they appear to
be.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> and <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> talk apart.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Madam, you have made a Convert of me in
every thing. I'm grown a Fool: I cou'd be fond of a
Woman.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I thank you, Sir, in the Name of the whole Sex.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Which Sex nothing but yourself cou'd ever
have aton'd for.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Now has my Vanity a devilish Itch, to know in
what my Merit consists.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> In your Humility, Madam, that keeps you
ignorant it consists at all.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> One other Compliment, with that serious Face,
and I hate you for ever after.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Some Women love to be abus'd: Is that it
you wou'd be at?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> No, not that, neither: But I'd have Men talk
plainly what's fit for Women to hear; without putting
'em either to a real or an affected Blush.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, then, in as plain Terms as I can find to
express myself, I could love you even to&mdash;Matrimony itself
a'most, I'gad.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Just as Sir <em>John</em> did her Ladyship there.&mdash;&mdash;What
think you? Don't you believe one Month's time
might bring you down to the same Indifference, only
clad in a little better Manners, perhaps? Well, you
Men are unaccountable things, mad till you have your
Mistresses, and then stark mad till you are rid of 'em
again. Tell me honestly, Is not your Patience put to a
much severer Trial after Possession than before?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> With a great many I must confess it is, to
our eternal Scandal; but I&mdash;&mdash;dear Creature, do but
try me.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> That's the surest way, indeed, to know, but not
the safest. [<em>To Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>.</em>] Madam, are not you for
taking a Turn in the Great Walk? It's almost dark,
no body will know us.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Really I find myself something idle, <em>Belinda</em>:
besides, I doat upon this little odd private Corner.
But don't let my lazy Fancy confine you. [<em>Const. aside.</em>]
So, she wou'd be left alone with me; that's well.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Well, we'll take one Turn, and come to you
again. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Heart</span>.</em>] Come, Sir, shall we go pry into the
Secrets of the Garden? Who knows what Discoveries
we may make?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Madam, I'm at your Service.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Heart</span>. aside.</em>] Don't make too much haste
back; for, d'ye hear?&mdash;&mdash;I may be busy.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Enough.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Sure you think me scandalously free, Mr.
<em>Constant</em>. I'm afraid I shall lose your good Opinion of me.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> My good Opinion, Madam, is like your Cruelty&mdash;&mdash;ne'er
to be remov'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But if I should remove my Cruelty, then
there's an end of your good Opinion.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> There is not so strict an Alliance between 'em,
neither. 'Tis certain I shou'd love you then better (if
that be possible) than I do now; and where I love, I always
esteem.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Indeed, I doubt you much. Why, suppose
you had a Wife, and she should entertain a Gallant?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> If I gave her just Cause, how cou'd I justly condemn
her?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ah! but you'd differ widely about just
Causes.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But Blows can bear no Dispute.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Nor ill Manners much, truly.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Then no Woman upon Earth has so just a Cause
as you have.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O, but a faithful Wife is a beautiful
Character.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> To a deserving Husband, I confess it is.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But can his Faults release my Duty?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> In Equity, without doubt. And where Laws
dispense with Equity, Equity should dispense with Laws.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Pray let's leave this Dispute; for you
Men have as much Witchcraft in your Arguments, as
Women have in their Eyes.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But whilst you attack me with your Charms,
'tis but reasonable I assault you with mine.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> The Case is not the same. What Mischief
we do, we can't help, and therefore are to be forgiven.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Beauty soon obtains Pardon for the Pain that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
it gives, when it applies the Balm of Compassion to the
Wound: But a fine Face, and a hard Heart, is almost
as bad as an ugly Face and a soft one; both very
troublesome to many a poor Gentleman.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yes, and to many a poor Gentlewoman,
too, I can assure you. But pray, which of 'em is it that
most afflicts you?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Your Glass and Conscience will inform you,
Madam. But for Heaven's sake (for now I must be serious),
if Pity, or if Gratitude can move you; [<em>Taking
her Hand.</em>] if Constancy and Truth have power to
tempt you; if Love, if Adoration can affect you; give
me at least some Hopes, that Time may do what you
perhaps mean never to perform; 'twill ease my Sufferings,
tho' not quench my Flame.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Your Sufferings eas'd, your Flame wou'd
soon abate: And that I would preserve, not quench it, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Wou'd you preserve it, nourish it with Favours;
for that's the Food it naturally requires.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Yet on that natural Food 'twould surfeit
soon, shou'd I resolve to grant all you wou'd ask.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> And in refusing all, you starve it. Forgive me,
therefore, since my Hunger rages, if I at last grow wild,
and in my frenzy force at least this from you. [<em>Kissing
her Hand.</em>] Or if you'd have my Flame soar higher still,
then grant me this, and this, and Thousands more; [<em>Kissing
first her Hand, then her Neck.</em>] [<em>Aside.</em>] For now's the
time she melts into Compassion.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Poor Coward Virtue, how it
shuns the Battle! O Heavens! let me go.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Ay, go, ay: Where shall we go, my charming
Angel&mdash;&mdash;into this private Arbour&mdash;&mdash;Nay, let's lose
no time&mdash;&mdash;Moments are precious.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> And Lovers wild. Pray let us stop here;
at least for this time.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> 'Tis impossible; he that has power over you,
can have none over himself.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>As he is forcing her into the Arbour, Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and
<span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span> bolt out upon them, and run over the
Stage.</em>
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ah! I'm lost!</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Fe, fe, fe, fe, fe.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Fe, fe, fe, fe, fe.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Death and Furies, who are these?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O Heavens! I'm out of my Wits; if
they knew me, I am ruin'd.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Don't be frightened: Ten thousand to one
they are Strangers to you.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Whatever they are, I won't stay here a
Moment longer.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Whither will you go?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Home, as if the Devil were in me. Lord,
where's this <em>Belinda</em> now?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>O! 'tis well you are come: I'm so frightened, my
Hair stands an end. Let's be gone, for Heaven's sake!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Lord, what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> The Devil's the Matter; we are discovered.
Here's a couple of Women have done the most
impertinent thing. Away, away, away, away, away.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit running.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Well, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, 'tis a prodigious thing
how Women can suffer filthy Fellows to grow so familiar
with 'em.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ah Madame, il n'y a rien de si naturel.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Fe, fe, fe! But, oh my Heart! O Jealousy!
O Torture! I'm upon the rack. What shall I do? My
Lover's lost, I ne'er shall see him mine. [<em>Pausing.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;But
I may be reveng'd; and that's the same thing. Ah
sweet Revenge! Thou welcome Thought, thou healing
Balsam to my wounded Soul! Be but propitious on this
one Occasion, I'll place my Heaven in thee, for all my
Life to come.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To Woman how indulgent Nature's kind!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No Blast of Fortune long disturbs her Mind:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Compliance to her Fate supports her still;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If Love won't make her happy&mdash;Mischief will.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-198.jpg" width="700" height="38" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_V3" id="ACT_V3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Lady</em> Fancyfull's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, did you dog
the filthy Things?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>O que ouy, Madame.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> And where are they?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Au Logis.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> What, Men and all?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Tous ensemble.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> O Confidence! What, carry their Fellows
to their own House?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>C'est que le Mari n'y est pas.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> No; so I believe, truly. But he shall be
there, and quickly too, if I can find him out. Well, 'tis
a prodigious thing, to see when Men and Women get
together, how they fortify one another in their Impudence.
But if that drunken Fool, her Husband, he to
be found in e'er a Tavern in Town, I'll send him amongst
'em: I'll spoil their sport.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>En verité, Madame, ce seroit domage.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> 'Tis in vain to oppose it, <em>Madamoiselle</em>;
therefore never go about it. For I am the steadiest Creature
in the World&mdash;when I have determin'd to do
Mischief. So, come along.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John Brute</span>'s House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span>, <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>, Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>, <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>, and
<span class="antiqua">Lovewell</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> But are you sure you don't mistake,
<em>Lovewell</em>?</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> Madam, I saw 'em all go into the Tavern together,
and my Master was so drunk he cou'd scarce
stand.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then, Gentlemen, I believe we may venture
to let you stay, and play at Cards with us, an Hour
or two: For they'll scarce part till Morning.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I think 'tis pity they should ever part.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> The Company that's here, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then, Sir, the Company that's here must
remember to part itself in time.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Madam, we don't intend to forfeit your future
Favours by an indiscreet Usage of this. The Moment
you give us the Signal, we shan't fail to make our Retreat.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Upon those Conditions, then, let us sit
down to Cards.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lovewell</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lov.</em> O Lord, Madam, here's my Master just staggering
in upon you; he has been quarrelsome yonder, and
they have kick'd him out of the Company.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Into the Closet, Gentlemen, for Heaven's
sake; I'll wheedle him to Bed, if possible.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Const.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heart.</span> run into the Closet.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, all dirt and bloody.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;Ah&mdash;&mdash;he's all over Blood!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What the plague does the Woman&mdash;squall
for? Did you never see a Man in Pickle before?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Lord, where have you been?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I have been at&mdash;&mdash;Cuffs.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I fear that is not all. I hope you are not
wounded.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sound as a Roach, Wife.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I'm mighty glad to hear it.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You know&mdash;I think you lye.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You do me wrong to think so. For Heaven's
my Witness; I had rather see my own Blood trickle
down, than yours.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then will I be crucify'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> 'Tis a hard Fate, I shou'd not be believ'd.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> 'Tis a damn'd Atheistical Age, Wife.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I am sure I have given you a thousand
tender Proofs, how great my Care is of you. But, spite
of all your cruel Thoughts, I'll still persist, and at this
Moment, if I can, persuade you to lie down and sleep a
little.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why&mdash;do you think I am drunk&mdash;you Slut,
you?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Heaven forbid I shou'd! But I'm afraid
you are feverish. Pray let me feel your Pulse.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Stand off, and be damn'd.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, I see your Distemper in your very
Eyes. You are all on Fire. Pray, go to Bed; let me
intreat you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Come, kiss me, then.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Kissing him.</em>] There: Now go. [<em>Aside.</em>]
He stinks like Poison.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I see it goes damnably against your Stomach&mdash;And
therefore&mdash;Kiss me again.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Nay, now you fool me.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Do't, I say.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Ah, Lord have mercy upon me!
Well&mdash;there: now will you go?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Now, Wife, you shall see my Gratitude.
You gave me two Kisses&mdash;I'll give you&mdash;two hundred.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kisses, and tumbles her.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O Lord! Pray, Sir John, be quiet. Heavens,
what a Pickle am I in!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] If I were in her Pickle, I'd call my Gallant
out of the Closet, and he shou'd cudgel him soundly.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> So, now you being as dirty and as nasty as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
myself, we may go pig together. But first I must have a
Cup of your cold Tea, Wife.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going to the Closet.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O I'm ruin'd! There's none there, my
Dear.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I'll warrant you I'll find some, my Dear.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> You can't open the Door, the Lock's
spoil'd; I have been turning and turning the Key this
half Hour to no purpose. I'll send for the Smith to-morrow.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> There's ne'er a Smith in <em>Europe</em> can open a
Door with more Expedition than I can do&mdash;&mdash;As for
Example&mdash;Poh! [<em>He bursts open the Door with his Foot.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;How
now! What the Devil have we got here?&mdash;&mdash;<em>Constant</em>&mdash;&mdash;<em>Heartfree</em>&mdash;&mdash;And
two Whores again, I'gad&mdash;&mdash;This
is the worst cold Tea&mdash;&mdash;that ever I met with
in my Life&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] O Lord, what will become of us?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Gentlemen&mdash;&mdash;I am your very humble Servant&mdash;I
give you many Thanks&mdash;&mdash;I see you take Care
of my Family&mdash;&mdash;I shall do all I can to return the Obligation.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Sir, how oddly soever this Business may appear to
you, you would have no cause to be uneasy, if you knew
the Truth of all things; your Lady is the most virtuous
Woman in the World, and nothing has past but an innocent
Frolick.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nothing else, upon my Honour, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> You are both very civil Gentlemen&mdash;And
my Wife, there, is a very civil Gentlewoman; therefore
I don't doubt but many civil things have past between
you. Your very humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> [<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Const</span>.</em>] Pray be gone: He's so
drunk he can't hurt us to-night, and to-morrow Morning
you shall hear from us.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I'll obey you, Madam. Sir, when you are
cool, you'll understand Reason better. So then I shall take
the pains to inform you. If not&mdash;&mdash;I wear a Sword,
Sir, and so good by t'ye. Come along, <em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Wear a Sword, Sir&mdash;And what of all that,
Sir? He comes to my House; eats my Meat; lies with
my Wife; dishonours my Family; gets a Bastard to inherit
my Estate&mdash;&mdash;And when I ask a civil Account of
all this&mdash;Sir, says he, I wear a Sword&mdash;Wear a Sword,
Sir? Yes, Sir, says he, I wear a Sword&mdash;&mdash;It may be
a good Answer at Cross-purposes; but 'tis a damn'd one
to a Man in my whimsical Circumstance&mdash;&mdash;Sir, says he,
I wear a Sword! [<em>To Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span>.</em>] And what do you
wear now? ha! tell me. [<em>Sitting down in a great Chair.</em>]
What, you are modest, and can't&mdash;Why, then, I'll tell
you, you Slut, you. You wear&mdash;&mdash;an impudent, lewd
Face&mdash;&mdash;A damn'd designing Heart&mdash;&mdash;And a Tail&mdash;&mdash;and
a Tail full of&mdash;&mdash;[<em>He falls fast asleep, snoaring.</em>]</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> So; thanks to kind Heaven, he's fast for
some Hours.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> 'Tis well he is so, that we may have time to lay
our Story handsomely; for we must lye like the Devil,
to bring ourselves off.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What shall we say, <em>Belinda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Musing.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;I'll tell you: It must all light upon
<em>Heartfree</em> and I. We'll say he has courted me some time,
but, for Reasons unknown to us, has ever been very
earnest the thing might be kept from Sir <em>John</em>. That
therefore hearing him upon the Stairs, he ran into the
Closet, tho' against our Will, and <em>Constant</em> with him, to
prevent Jealousy. And to give this a good impudent
Face of Truth, (that I may deliver you from the trouble
you are in) I'll e'en, if he pleases, marry him.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I'm beholden to you, Cousin; but that
wou'd be carrying the Jest a little too far for your own
sake: You know he's a younger Brother, and has nothing.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> 'Tis true: But I like him, and have Fortune
enough to keep above Extremity: I can't say I would
live with him in a Cell, upon Love and Bread and Butter:
But I had rather have the Man I love, and a middle
State of Life, than that Gentleman in the Chair there,
and twice your Ladyship's Splendour.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> In truth, Niece, you are in the right on't;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
for I am very uneasy with my Ambition. But, perhaps,
had I married as you'll do, I might have been as ill us'd.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Some Risk, I do confess, there always is: But
if a Man has the least Spark either of Honour or Good-nature,
he can never use a Woman ill, that loves him,
and makes his Fortune both. Yet I must own to you,
some little struggling I still have with this teazing Ambition
of ours; for Pride, you know, is as natural to a
Woman, as 'tis to a Saint. I can't help being fond of
this Rogue; and yet it goes to my Heart, to think I must
never whisk to <em>Hyde-Park</em> with above a Pair of Horses;
have no Coronet upon my Coach, nor a Page to carry
up my Train. But above all&mdash;that Business of Place&mdash;Well,
taking place is a noble Prerogative&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Especially after a Quarrel&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Or of a Rival. But pray say no more on't, for
fear I change my Mind; for, o' my Conscience, wer't
not for your Affair in the Balance, I should go near to
pick up some odious Man of Quality yet, and only take
poor <em>Heartfree</em> for a Gallant.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Then him you must have, however things
go?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Why, we may pretend what we will: but
'tis a hard matter to live without the Man we love.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Especially when we are married to the Man we
hate. Pray tell me: Do the Men of the Town ever
believe us virtuous, when they see us do so?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> O, no: Nor indeed, hardly, let us do
what we will. The most of them think, there is no
such thing as Virtue, consider'd in the strictest Notions
of it; and therefore when you hear 'em say, such a one
is a Woman of Reputation, they only mean she's a Woman
of Discretion. For they consider we have no more
Religion than they have, nor so much Morality; and
between you and I, <em>Belinda</em>, I'm afraid the want of
Inclination seldom protects any of us.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> But what think you of the Fear of being found
out?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I think That never kept any Woman vir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>tuous
long. We are not such Cowards, neither. No:
Let us once pass Fifteen, and we have too good an Opinion
of our own Cunning, to believe the World can penetrate
into what we would keep a Secret. And so, in
short, we cannot reasonably blame the Men for judging
of us by themselves.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> But sure we are not so wicked as they are, after all?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> We are as wicked, Child, but our Vice
lies another way: Men have more Courage than we, so
they commit more bold, impudent Sins. They quarrel,
fight, swear, drink, blaspheme, and the like: Whereas
we, being Cowards, only backbite, tell Lyes, cheat at
Cards, and so forth. But 'tis late: Let's end our Discourse
for to-night, and, out of an excess of Charity, take
a small Care of that nasty, drunken Thing there&mdash;&mdash;Do
but look at him, <em>Belinda</em>!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;'tis a savoury Dish.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> As savoury as 'tis, I'm cloy'd with't.
Pr'ythee call the Butler to take it away.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Call the Butler!&mdash;--Call the Scavenger! [<em>To a
Servant within.</em>] Who's there? Call <em>Rasor</em>! Let him
take away his Master, scour him clean with a little Sope
and Sand, and so put him to Bed.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Come, <em>Belinda</em>, I'll e'en lie with you to-night;
and in the Morning we'll send for our Gentlemen
to set this Matter even.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> With all my Heart.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Good Night, my Dear.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Making a low Curtsy to Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p>[<em>Both.</em>] Ha, ha, ha!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> My Lady there's a Wag&mdash;My Master there's
a Cuckold. Marriage is a slippery thing&mdash;Women have
depraved Appetites.&mdash;My Lady's a Wag; I have heard
all; I have seen all; I understand all; and I'll tell all;
for my little <em>French-woman</em> loves News dearly. This
Story'll gain her Heart, or nothing will. [<em>To his Master.</em>]
Come, Sir, your Head's too full of Fumes at present, to
make room for your Jealousy; but I reckon we shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
have rare work with you, when your Pate's empty.
Come to your Kennel, you cuckoldly, drunken Sot, you!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Carries him out upon his Back.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Lady</em> Fancyfull's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> But, why did not you tell me before,
<em>Madamoiselle</em>, that <em>Rasor</em> and you were
fond?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> De Modesty hinder me, Matam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, truly, Modesty does often hinder us
from doing things we have an extravagant mind to. But
does he love you well enough yet, to do any thing you
bid him? Do you think, to oblige you, he wou'd speak
Scandal?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Matam, to oblige your Ladyship, he shall
speak Blasphemy.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Why, then, <em>Madamoiselle</em>, I'll tell you what
you shall do. You shall engage him to tell his Master
all that past at <em>Spring Garden</em>: I have a mind he shou'd
know what a Wife and a Niece he has got.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Il le fera, Madame.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Footman, who speaks to <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span> apart.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Foot.</em> <em>Madamoiselle</em>, yonder's Mr. <em>Rasor</em> desires to speak
with you.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Tell him, I come presently. [<em>Exit Footman.</em>]
<em>Rasor</em> be dare, Matam.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> That's fortunate. Well, I'll leave you together.
And if you find him stubborn, <em>Madamoiselle</em>&mdash;hark
you&mdash;don't refuse him a few little reasonable Liberties
to put him into Humour.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Laissez moy faire.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lady</span> Fancyfull.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Rasor</span> peeps in; and seeing Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> gone, runs
to <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>, takes her about the Neck, and kisses her.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> How now, Confidence?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> How now, Modesty!</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Who make you so familiar, Sirrah?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> My Impudence, Hussy.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Stand off, Rogue-Face.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;<em>Madamoiselle</em>&mdash;&mdash;great News at our
House.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Why, vat be de matter?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> The Matter?&mdash;Why, Uptails All's the Matter.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Tu te mocque de moy.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Now do you long to know the Particulars:
The Time when&mdash;The Place where&mdash;The Manner how.
But I don't tell you a Word more.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Nay, den dou kill me, <em>Rasor</em>.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Come, kiss me, then.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Clapping his Hands behind him.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Nay, pridee tell me.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Good by t' ye.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Hold, hold: I will kiss dee.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kissing him.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> So, that's civil: Why, now, my pretty Poll,
my Goldfinch, my little Waterwagtail&mdash;&mdash;you must
know, that&mdash;&mdash;Come, kiss me again.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> I won't kiss de no more.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Good by t' ye.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p>Madam. <em>Doucement! <span class="antiqua">Derre</span>: es tu content?</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kissing him.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> So: Now I'll tell thee all. Why, the News
is, That Cuckoldom in Folio is newly printed; and
Matrimony in Quarto is just going into the Press. Will
you buy any Books, <em>Madamoiselle</em>?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Tu parle comme un Libraire</em>; de Devil no understand
dee.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Why, then, that I may make myself intelligible
to a Waiting-Woman, I'll speak like a Valet de
Chambre. My Lady has cuckolded my Master.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Bon.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Which we take very ill from her Hands, I can
tell her that. We can't yet prove Matter of Fact upon
her.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>N'importe.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> But we can prove, that Matter of Fact had like
to have been upon her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>

<p>Madam. <em>Ouy da.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> For we have such bloody Circumstances&mdash;</p>

<p>Madam. Sans doute.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> That any Man of Parts may draw tickling
Conclusions from 'em.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Fort bien.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> We found a couple of tight, well-built
Gentlemen stufft into her Ladyship's Closet.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Le Diable!</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> And I, in my particular Person, have discovered
a most damnable Plot, how to persuade my poor
Master, that all this Hide and Seek, this <em>Will</em> in the
<em>Whisp</em>, has no other meaning than a Christian Marriage
for sweet Mrs. <em>Belinda</em>.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Une Mariage?&mdash;&mdash;Ah les Droles!</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Don't you interrupt me, Hussy; 'tis agreed, I
say. And my innocent Lady, to wriggle herself out
at the Back-door of the Business, turns Marriage-Bawd to
her Niece, and resolves to deliver up her fair Body to be
tumbled and mumbled by that young liquorish Whipster,
<em>Heartfree</em>. Now are you satisfy'd?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Right Woman; always gaping for more.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Dis be all, den, dat dou know?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> All? Aye, and a great deal, too, I think.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Dou be Fool, dou know noting. <em>Ecoute, mon
pauvre</em> Rasor. Dou sees des two Eyes?&mdash;Des two Eyes
have see de Devil.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> The Woman's mad.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> In <em>Spring-Garden</em>, dat Rogue <em>Constant</em> meet
dy Lady.</p>

<p>Rasor. <em>Bon.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em>&mdash;&mdash;I'll tell dee no more.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Nay, pr'ythee, my Swan.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Come, kiss me den.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Clapping her Hands behind her as he did before.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> I won't kiss you, not I.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Adieu.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Hold&mdash;&mdash;Now proceed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives her a hearty Kiss.</em></p>

<p>Madam. <em>A ça</em>&mdash;&mdash;I hide myself in one cunning
Place, where I hear all, and see all. First, dy drunken
Master come <em>mal a propos</em>; but de Sot no know his own
dear Wife, so he leave her to her Sport&mdash;Den de Game
begin. De Lover say soft ting: De Lady look upon de
Ground. [<em>As she speaks, <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span> still acts the Man, and she
the Woman.</em>] He take her by de Hand: She turn her
Head on oder Way. Den he squeeze very hard: Den
she pull&mdash;&mdash;very softly. Den he take her in his Arm:
Den she give him leetel pat. Den he kiss her Tettons.
Den she say&mdash;Pish, nay see. Den he tremble: Den she&mdash;sigh.
Den he pull her into de Arbour: Den she pinch
him.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Aye, but not so hard, you Baggage, you.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Den he grow bold: She grow weak, he tro
her down, <em>il tombe dessu, le Diable assiste, il emport tout</em>.
[<em><span class="antiqua">Rasor</span> struggles with her, as if he would throw her
down.</em>] Stand off, Sirrah!</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> You have set me a-fire, you Jade, you.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Den go to de River, and quench dy self.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> What an unnatural Harlot 'tis!</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> <em>Rasor.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking languishingly on him.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> <em>Madamoiselle.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Dou no love me.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Not love thee?&mdash;More than a <em>Frenchman</em> does
Soup.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Den dou will refuse nothing dat I bid dee?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Don't bid me be damn'd, then.</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> No, only tell dy Master all I have tell dee
of dy Laty.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Why, you little, malicious Strumpet, you,
shou'd you like to be serv'd so?</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Dou dispute den?&mdash;Adieu.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Hold&mdash;But why wilt thou make me such a
Rogue, my Dear?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Voila un vrai Anglois! Il est amoureux, et
cependant il veut raisonner. Va t'en au Diable.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Hold once more: In hopes thou'lt give me
up thy Body, I resign thee my Soul.</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Bon, ecoute donc</em>;&mdash;&mdash;If dou fail me&mdash;&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>I
never see de more&mdash;&mdash;If dou obey me&mdash;&mdash;<em>Je m'abandonne
a toy.</em> [<em>She takes him about the Neck, and gives
him a smacking Kiss.</em>]</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> [<em>Licking his Lips.</em>] Not be a Rogue?&mdash;&mdash;<em>Amor
vincit Omnia.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Marry, say ye? Will the two Things marry?</p>

<p>Madam. <em>On le va faire, Madame.</em></p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Look you, <em>Madamoiselle</em>&mdash;In short, I can't
bear it&mdash;&mdash;No; I find I can't&mdash;If once I see 'em a-bed
together, I shall have ten thousand Thoughts in my
Head will make me run distracted. Therefore run and
call <em>Rasor</em> back immediately; for something must be
done to stop this impertinent Wedding. If I can but
defer it four-and-twenty Hours, I'll make such Work
about Town, with that little pert Slut's Reputation,
he shall as soon marry a Witch.</p>

<p>Madam. [<em>Aside.</em>] <em>La voilà bien intentionnée.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[Exeunt.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em><span class="antiqua">Constant</span>'s Lodgings</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But what dost think will become of this Business?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> 'Tis easier to think what will not come on't.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> A Challenge. I know the Knight too well for
that; his dear Body will always prevail upon his noble
Soul to be quiet.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But tho' he dare not challenge me, perhaps he
may venture to challenge his Wife.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Not if you whisper him in the Ear, you won't
have him do't; and there's no other way left, that I see.
For as drunk as he was, he'll remember you and I were
where we shou'd not be; and I don't think him quite
Blockhead enough yet to be persuaded we were got into
his Wife's Closet only to peep into her Prayer-Book.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant with a Letter.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, here's a Letter; a Porter brought it.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> O ho, here's Instructions for us.</p>

<p><em>Reads:</em></p>

<div class="hangindent">

<p><em>The Accident that has happen'd has touch'd our Invention
to the quick. We wou'd fain come off, without your
help; but find that's impossible. In a Word, the whole
Business must be thrown upon a Matrimonial Intrigue
between your Friend and mine. But if the Parties are
not fond enough to go quite through with the matter,
'tis sufficient for our Turn, they own the Design.
We'll find Pretences enough to break the Match.</em></p>

<p>
Adieu.<br />
</p>
</div>

<p>----Well, Woman for Invention! How long wou'd my
Block-Head have been producing this!&mdash;--Hey, <em>Heartfree</em>?
What, musing, Man? Pr'ythee be chearful. What
say'st thou, Friend, to this matrimonial Remedy?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, I say, 'tis worse than the Disease.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Here's a Fellow for you! There's Beauty and
Money on her Side, and Love up to the Ears on his:
and yet&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And yet, I think, I may reasonably be allow'd
to boggle at marrying the Niece, in the very Moment
that you are debauching the Aunt.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, truly, there may be something in that.
But have not you a good Opinion enough of your own
Parts, to believe you cou'd keep a Wife to yourself?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I shou'd have, if I had a good Opinion enough
of her's, to believe she cou'd do as much by me. For to
do 'em right, after all, the Wife seldom rambles, till
the Husband shews her the way.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> 'Tis true, a Man of real Worth scarce ever is a
Cuckold, but by his own Fault. Women are not naturally
lewd; there must be something to urge 'em to it.
They'll cuckold a Churl, out of Revenge; a Fool, because
they despise him; a Beast, because they loath him.
But when they make bold with a Man they once had a
well-grounded Value for, 'tis because they first see themselves
neglected by him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Nay, were I well assured that I should never
grow Sir <em>John</em>, I ne'er shou'd fear <em>Belinda</em>, wou'd play
my Lady. But our Weakness, thou knowest, my Friend,
consists in that very Change we so impudently throw
upon (indeed) a steadier and more generous Sex.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, 'faith, we are a little impudent in that
matter, that's the truth on't. But this is wonderful, to
see you grown so warm an Advocate for those whom (but
t'other Day) you took so much Pains to abuse.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> All Revolutions run into Extremes; the Bigot
makes the boldest Atheist; and the coyest Saint, the
most extravagant Strumpet. But, pr'ythee, advise me in
this Good and Evil, this Life and Death, this Blessing
and Cursing, that's set before me. Shall I marry, or
die a Maid?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Why, 'faith, <em>Heartfree</em>, Matrimony is like an
Army going to engage. Love's the forlorn Hope, which
is soon cut off; the Marriage-Knot is the main Body,
which may stand buff a long, long time; and Repentance
is the Rear-Guard, which rarely gives ground as
long as the main Body has a Being.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Conclusion, then; you advise me to whore on,
as you do.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> That's not concluded yet. For tho' Marriage
be a Lottery, in which there are a wondrous many
Blanks; yet there is one inestimable Lot, in which the
only Heaven on Earth is written. Wou'd your kind Fate
but guide your Hand to that, tho' I were wrapt in all
that Luxury itself could clothe me with, I still shou'd
envy you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And justly, too; for to be capable of loving
one, doubtless, is better than to possess a thousand. But
how far that Capacity's in me, alas! I know not.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But you wou'd know.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I wou'd so.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Matrimony will inform you. Come, one Flight
of Resolution carries you to the Land of Experience;
where, in a very moderate time, you'll know the Capacity
of your Soul and your Body both, or I'm mistaken.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John Brute</span>'s House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Brute</span> and <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Well, Madam, what Answer have you from
'em?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> That they'll be here this Moment. I
fancy 'twill end in a Wedding: I'm sure he's a Fool if
it don't. Ten thousand Pounds, and such a Lass as you
are, is no contemptible Offer to a younger Brother. But
are not you under strange Agitations? Pr'ythee, how
does your Pulse beat?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> High and low, I have much ado to be valiant:
sure it must feel very strange to go to Bed to a Man?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;it does feel a little odd at
first; but it will soon grow easy to you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Constant</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Good-morrow, Gentlemen: How have
you slept after your Adventure?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Some careful Thoughts, Ladies, on your accounts,
have kept us waking.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> And some careful Thoughts on your own, I believe,
have hindered you from sleeping. Pray how does
this matrimonial Project relish with you?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Why, 'faith, e'en as storming Towns does with
Soldiers, where the Hope of delicious Plunder banishes
the Fear of being knock'd on the Head.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Is it then possible, after all, that you dare think
of downright lawful Wedlock?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Madam, you have made me so fool-hardy, I
dare do any thing.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then, Sir, I challenge you; and Matrimony's
the Spot where I expect you.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> 'Tis enough; I'll not fail. [<em>Aside.</em>] So, now,
I am in for <em>Hobbes</em>'s Voyage; a great Leap in the Dark.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Well, Gentlemen, this Matter being concluded
then, have you got your Lessons ready? for Sir
<em>John</em> is grown such an Atheist of late, he'll believe nothing
upon easy Terms.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> We'll find ways to extend his Faith, Madam.
But pray how do you find him this Morning?</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Most lamentably morose, chewing the Cud
after last Night's Discovery, of which, however, he had
but a confus'd Notion e'en now. But I'm afraid the Valet
de Chambre has told him all; for they are very busy
together at this Moment. When I told him of <em>Belinda</em>'s
Marriage, I had no other Answer but a Grunt: From
which, you may draw what Conclusions you think fit.
But to your Notes, Gentlemen, he's here.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> and <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Good-morrow, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Good-morrow, Sir <em>John</em>; I'm very sorry my
Indiscretion shou'd cause so much Disorder in your Family.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Disorders generally come from Indiscretion,
Sir; 'tis no strange thing at all.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> I hope, my Dear, you are satisfied there
was no wrong intended you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> None, my Dove.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> If not, I hope my Consent to marry Mr. <em>Heartfree</em>
will convince you. For as little as I know of Amours,
Sir, I can assure you, one Intrigue is enough to
bring four People together, without further Mischief.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And I know too, that Intrigues tend to Procreation
of more kinds than one. One Intrigue will beget
another, as soon as beget a Son or a Daughter.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I am very sorry, Sir, to see you still seem unsatisfy'd
with a Lady, whose more than common Virtue,
I am sure were she my Wife, shou'd meet a better Usage.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, if her Conduct has put a Trick upon
her Virtue, her Virtue's the Bubble, but her Husband's
the Loser.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Sir, you have receiv'd a sufficient Answer already,
to justify both her Conduct and mine. You'll
pardon me for meddling in your Family-affairs; but I
perceive I am the Man you are jealous of, and therefore
it concerns me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Wou'd it did not concern me, and then I
shou'd not care who it concern'd.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, Sir, if Truth and Reason won't content
you, I know but one way more, which, if you think fit,
you may take.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Lord, Sir, you are very hasty! If I had been
found at Prayers in your Wife's Closet, I should have allow'd
you twice as much time to come to yourself in.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Nay, Sir, if Time be all you want, we have
no Quarrel.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> I told you how the Sword wou'd work upon
him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> muses.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Let him muse; however, I'll lay fifty Pound
our Foreman brings us in, Not Guilty.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] 'Tis well&mdash;&mdash;'tis very well&mdash;&mdash;In
spite of that young Jade's matrimonial Intrigue, I am
a downright stinking Cuckold&mdash;&mdash;Here they are&mdash;&mdash;Boo&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Putting
his hand to his Forehead.</em>] Methinks,
I could butt with a Bull. What the Plague did I marry
her for? I knew she did not like me; if she had, she
wou'd have lain with me; for I wou'd have done so, because
I lik'd her; but that's past, and I have her. And
now, what shall I do with her?&mdash;&mdash;If I put my Horns
into my Pocket, she'll grow insolent&mdash;&mdash;if I don't, that
Goat there, that Stallion, is ready to whip me thro' the
Guts.&mdash;The Debate then is reduced to this: Shall I die
a Hero, or live a Rascal?&mdash;&mdash;Why, wiser Men than I
have long since concluded, that a living Dog is better
than a dead Lion.&mdash;&mdash;[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Const.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Heart.</span></em>] Gentlemen,
now my Wine and my Passion are governable, I
must own, I have never observ'd any Thing in my Wife's
Course of Life, to back me in my Jealousy of her: But
Jealousy's a Mark of Love; so she need not trouble her
Head about it, as long as I make no more Words on't.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span> enters disguis'd, and addresses to <span class="antiqua">Belinda</span>
apart.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> I'm glad to see your Reason rule at last. Give me
your Hand: I hope you'll look upon me as you are wont.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Your humble Servant. [<em>Aside.</em>] A wheedling
Son of a Whore!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And that I may be sure you are Friends with
me, too, pray give me your Consent to wed your Niece.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, you have it with all my Heart: Damn
me if you han't. [<em>Aside.</em>] 'Tis time to get rid of her: A
young, pert Pimp; she'll make an incomparable Bawd
in a little time.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant, who gives <span class="antiqua">Heartfree</span> a Letter.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> <em>Heartfree</em> your Husband, say you? 'Tis impossible.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Wou'd to kind Heaven it were! But 'tis
too true; and in the World there lives not such a
Wretch. I'm young; and either I have been flatter'd
by my Friends, as well as Glass, or Nature has been kind
and generous to me. I had a Fortune, too, was greater
far than he could ever hope for; but with my Heart I
am robb'd of all the rest. I am slighted and I'm beggar'd
both at once: I have scarce a bare Subsistence from
the Villain, yet dare complain to none; for he has sworn
if e'er 'tis known I'm his Wife, he'll murder me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Weeping.</em></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> The Traitor!</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> I accidentally was told he courted you:
Charity soon prevail'd upon me to prevent your Misery:
And, as you see, I'm still so generous even to him, as
not to suffer he should do a thing for which the Law
might take away his Life.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Weeping.</em></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Poor Creature! how I pity her!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They continue talking aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Death and Damnation!&mdash;--Let me
read it again. [Reads.] <em>Tho' I have a particular reason
not to let you know who I am till I see you; yet you'll easily
believe 'tis a faithful Friend that gives you this Advice.
I have lain with <span class="antiqua">Belinda (Good!)</span>&mdash;I have a Child by
her <span class="antiqua">(Better and better!)</span> which is now at Nurse; <span class="antiqua">(Heaven
be prais'd)</span> and I think the Foundation laid for another:
<span class="antiqua">(Ha!&mdash;Old Truepenny!)</span>&mdash;No Rack cou'd have
tortur'd this Story from me; but Friendship has done it. I
heard of your Design to marry her, and cou'd not see you
abus'd. Make use of my Advice, but keep my Secret till I
ask you for't again. Adieu.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Bel</span>.</em>] Come, Madam, shall we send for the
Parson? I doubt here's no Business for the Lawyer:
Younger Brothers have nothing to settle but their
Hearts, and that I believe my Friend here has already
done very faithfully.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Scornfully.</em>] Are you sure, Sir, there are no
old Mortgages upon it?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> [<em>Coldly.</em>] If you think there are, Madam, it
mayn't be amiss to defer the Marriage till you are sure
they are paid off.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How the gall'd Horse kicks!</p>

<p>[<em>To</em> Heart.] We'll defer it as long as you please, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> The more time we take to consider on't, Madam,
the less apt we shall be to commit Oversights;
therefore, if you please, we will put it off for just nine
Months.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Guilty Consciences make Men Cowards; I don't
wonder you want time to resolve.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And they make Women desperate; I don't
wonder you are so quickly determin'd.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> What does the Fellow mean?</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> What does the Lady mean?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Zoons, what do you both mean?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Heart.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Bel.</span> walk chasing about.</em></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Here is so much Sport going to be
spoil'd, it makes me ready to weep again. A Pox o' this
impertinent Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>, and her Plots, and her <em>French-woman</em>
too; she's a whimsical, ill-natur'd Bitch, and
when I have got my Bones broke in her Service, 'tis ten
to one but my Recompence is a Clap; I hear them tittering
without still. I'cod, I'll e'en go lug them both in
by the Ears, and discover the Plot, to secure my Pardon.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Pr'ythee, explain, <em>Heartfree</em>.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> A fair Deliverance; thank my Stars and my
Friend.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> 'Tis well it went no farther; a base Fellow!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What can be the meaning of all this?</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> What's his Meaning, I don't know; but mine is,
that if I had married him&mdash;&mdash;I had had no Husband.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> And what's her Meaning I don't know; but
mine is, that if I had married her&mdash;I had had Wife enough.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Your People of Wit have got such cramp
ways of expressing themselves, they seldom comprehend
one another. Pox take you both, will you speak that
you may be understood!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span> in Sackcloth, pulling in <span class="antiqua">Lady Fancyfull</span>
and <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> If they won't, here comes an Interpreter.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Heavens! what have we here?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> A Villain&mdash;&mdash;but a repenting Villain. Stuff
which Saints in all Ages have been made of.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Rasor!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What means this sudden Metamorphose?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Nothing, without my Pardon.</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> What Pardon do you want?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> <em>Imprimis</em>, Your Ladyship's; for a damnable
Lie made upon your spotless Virtue, and set to the Tune
of <em>Spring-Garden</em>. [<em>To Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>] Next, at my generous
Master's Feet I bend, for interrupting his more noble
Thoughts with Phantoms of disgraceful Cuckoldom. [<em>To
<span class="antiqua">Const</span>.</em>] Thirdly, I to this Gentleman apply, for making
him the Hero of my Romance. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Heart</span>.</em>] Fourthly,
your Pardon, noble Sir, I ask, for clandestinely marrying
you, without either bidding of Banns, Bishop's Licence,
Friends Consent&mdash;&mdash;or your own Knowledge. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Bel</span>.</em>]
And, lastly, to my good young Lady's Clemency I
come, for pretending the Corn was sow'd in the Ground,
before ever the Plough had been in the Field.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] So that, after all, 'tis a moot point,
whether I am a Cuckold or not.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Well, Sir, upon Condition you confess all, I'll
pardon you myself, and try to obtain as much from the
rest of the Company. But I must know, then, who 'tis
has put you upon all this Mischief?</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> Satan, and his Equipage; Woman tempted me,
Lust weakened me&mdash;&mdash;and so the Devil over-came me;
as fell <em>Adam</em>, so fell I.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Then pray, Mr. <em>Adam</em>, will you make us acquainted
with your <em>Eve</em>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Madam</span>.</em>] Unmask, for the Honour of <em>France</em>.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Madamoiselle!</p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> Me ask ten tousand Pardon of all de good
Company.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, this Mystery thickens, instead of clearing
up. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em>] You Son of a Whore, you, put us
out of our Pain.</p>

<p><em>Rasor.</em> One Moment brings Sunshine. [<em>Shewing <span class="antiqua">Madam</span>.</em>]
'Tis true, this is the Woman that tempted me,
but this is the Serpent that tempted the Woman; and if
my Prayers might be heard, her Punishment for so doing
shou'd be like the Serpent's of old&mdash;[<em>Pulls off Lady
<span class="antiqua">Fancyfull</span>'s Mask.</em>] She should lie upon her Face all the
Days of her Life.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Lady <em>Fancyfull</em>!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Impertinent!</p>

<p><em>Lady Brute.</em> Ridiculous!</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I hope your Ladyship will give me leave to wish
you Joy, since you have own'd your Marriage yourself&mdash;[<em>To
<span class="antiqua">Heart</span>.</em>] I vow 'twas strangely wicked in you to
think of another Wife, when you had one already so
charming as her Ladyship.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Confusion seize 'em, as it seizes me!</p>

<p>Madam. <em>Que le Diable e toute ce Mauraut de <span class="antiqua">Rasor</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Your Ladyship seems disorder'd: A breeding
Qualm, perhaps, Mr. <em>Heartfree</em>: Your Bottle of Hungary
Water to your Lady. Why, Madam, he stands as
unconcern'd, as if he were your Husband in earnest.</p>

<p><em>Lady Fan.</em> Your Mirth's as nauseous as yourself. <em>Belinda</em>,
you think you triumph over a Rival now: <em>Helas!
ma pauvre fille.</em> Where'er I'm Rival, there's no Cause
for Mirth. No, my poor Wretch, 'tis from another Principle
I have acted. I knew that Thing there wou'd make
so perverse a Husband, and you so impertinent a Wife,
that left your mutual Plagues should make you both run
mad, I charitably would have broke the Match. He!
he! he! he! he!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit, laughing affectedly, <span class="antiqua">Madamoiselle</span> following her.</em></p>

<p><em>Madam.</em> He! he! he! he! he!</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Why, now, this Woman will be
married to somebody, too.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Poor Creature! what a Passion she's in! But I
forgive her.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Since you have so much Goodness for her, I
hope you'll pardon my Offence, too, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> There will be no great Difficulty in that, since
I am guilty of an equal Fault.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Then Pardons being past on all sides, pray
let's to Church to conclude the Day's Work.</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> But before you go, let me treat you, pray, with
a Song a new-married Lady made within this Week;
it may be of use to you both.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10">SONG.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>hen</span> yielding first to <span class="antiqua">Damon's</span> Flame,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I sunk into his Arms;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He swore he'd ever be the same,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Then rifled all my Charms.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But fond of what he'd long desir'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Too greedy of his Prey,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>My Shepherd's Flame, alas! expir'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Before the Verge of Day.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i18">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>My Innocence in Lovers Wars</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Reproach'd his quick Defeat;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Confus'd, asham'd, and bath'd in Tears,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I mourn'd his cold Retreat.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>At length, Ah Shepherdess! cry'd he,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Wou'd you my Fire renew,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Alas, you must retreat like me,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I'm lost if you pursue.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
<p><em>Heart.</em> So, Madam; now had the Parson but done his
Business&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> You'd be half weary of your Bargain.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> No, sure, I might dispense with one Night's
Lodging.</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> I'm ready to try, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Heart.</em> Then let's to Church:
And if it be our Chance to disagree&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Bel.</em> Take heed&mdash;the surly Husband's Fate you see.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt omnes.</em></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-220.jpg" width="700" height="629" alt="" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-221.jpg" width="700" height="71" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE3" id="EPILOGUE3">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">By Another Hand.</p>

<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Lady <span class="smcap">Brute</span> and <span class="smcap">Belinda</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">N</span>o</span> Epilogue</em>!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Belinda.</em> <em>I swear I know of none.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i10"><em>Lord! How shall we excuse it to the Town?</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>Why, we must e'en say something of our own.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>Our own! Ay, that must needs be precious stuff.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>I'll lay my Life, they'll like it well enough.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i10"><em>Come, faith, begin&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>Excuse me, after you.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>Nay, pardon me for that, I know my Cue.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>O for the World, I would not have Precedence.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>O Lord!</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>I swear&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>O fye!</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>I'm all Obedience.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>First then, know all, before our Doom is fixt,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>The Third Day is for us&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>Nay, and the Sixth.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>We speak not from the Poet now, nor is it</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>His Cause&mdash;(I want a Rhyme)</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>That we sollicit.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>Then sure you cannot have the Hearts to be severe</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>And damn us&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>Damn us! Let 'em if they dare.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>Why, if they should, what Punishment remains?</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>Eternal Exile from behind our Scenes.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>But if they're kind, that Sentence we'll recal.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>We can be grateful&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>And have wherewithal.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Lady Brute. <em>But at Grand <span class="antiqua">Treaties</span> hope not to be trusted,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>Before <span class="antiqua">Preliminaries</span> are adjusted.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Bel.</em> <em>You know the Time, and we appoint the Place;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i12"><em>Where, if you please, we'll meet and sign the Peace.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-222.jpg" width="700" height="80" alt="" />
</div>

<div class="hangindent">

<p>Upon the revival of this Play in 1725, Sir
<em>John Vanbrugh</em> thought proper to write the
two following Scenes, in the room of those
printed Page 166,-168, 173, <em>&amp;c. &amp;c.</em></p></div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Covent-Garden</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Rake</span>, Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>, &amp;c. with Swords drawn.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span>s</span> the Dog dead?</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> No, damn him, I heard him
wheeze.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> How the Witch his Wife howl'd?</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> Aye, she'll alarm the Watch presently.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Appear, Knight, then: Come, you have
a good Cause to fight for, there's a Man murder'd.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Is there? Then let his Ghost be satisfy'd:
for I'll sacrifice a Constable to it presently, and burn
his Body upon his wooden Chair.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Taylor, with a Bundle under his Arm.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col. Bully.</em> How now! what have we got here? A
Thief?</p>

<p><em>Taylor.</em> No an't please you, I'm no Thief.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> That we'll see presently: Here! let the
General examine him.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Ay, ay, let me examine him; and I'll lay
a hundred Pound I find him guilty in spite of his Teeth&mdash;&mdash;for
he looks&mdash;like a&mdash;&mdash;sneaking Rascal. Come,
Sirrah, without Equivocation or mental Reservation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
tell me of what Opinion you are, and what Calling;
for by them&mdash;&mdash;I shall guess at your Morals.</p>

<p><em>Taylor.</em> An't please you, I'm a Dissenting Journeyman
Woman's Taylor.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then, Sirrah, you love Lying by your
Religion, and Theft by your Trade: And so, that your
Punishment may be suitable to your Crimes&mdash;&mdash;I'll
have you first gagg'd&mdash;&mdash;and then hang'd.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> Pray, good worthy Gentlemen, don't abuse
me: Indeed I'm an honest Man, and a good Workman,
tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> No Words, Sirrah, but attend your Fate.</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Let me see what's in that Bundle.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> An't please you, it's my Lady's short Cloak and
Sack.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> What Lady, you Reptile, you?</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> My Lady <em>Brute</em>, an't please your Honour.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> My Lady <em>Brute</em>! my Wife! the Robe of
my Wife&mdash;with Reverence let me approach it. The
dear Angel is always taking Care of me in Danger, and
has sent me this Suit of Armour to protect me in this
Day of Battle; on they go.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> O brave Knight!</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> Live <em>Don Quixote</em> the Second!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> <em>Sancho</em>, my 'Squire, help me on with my
Armour.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> O dear Gentlemen! I shall be quite undone if
you take the Sack.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Retire, Sirrah! and since you carry off your
Skin, go home and be happy.</p>

<p><em>Tayl.</em> I think I'd e'en as good follow the Gentleman's
Advice, for if I dispute any longer, who knows but the
whim may take 'em to case me&mdash;These Courtiers are
fuller of Tricks than they are of Money: they'll sooner
break a Man's Bones, than pay his Bill.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Tayl</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> So! how d'ye like my shapes now?</p>

<p><em>Lord Rake.</em> To a Miracle! He looks like a Queen
of the <em>Amazons</em>&mdash;But to your Arms! Gentlemen! The
Enemy's upon their March&mdash;here's the Watch&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> 'Oons! if it were <em>Alexander</em> the Great, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
the Head of his Army, I would drive him into a Horse-Pond.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Huzza! O brave Knight!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Watchmen.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> See! Here he comes, with all his <em>Greeks</em>
about him&mdash;Follow me, Boys.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Hey-dey! Who have we got here?&mdash;Stand.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> May-hap not!</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> What are you all doing here in the Streets at
this time o'night? And who are you, Madam, that seem
to be at the Head of this noble Crew?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sirrah, I am <em>Bonduca</em>, Queen of the
<em>Welchmen</em>; and with a Leek as long as my Pedigree,
I will destroy your <em>Roman</em> Legion in an Instant&mdash;<em>Britons</em>,
strike home.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They fight off. <span class="antiqua">Watch.</span> return with Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> So! We have got the Queen, however!
We'll make her pay well for her Ransom&mdash;Come, Madam,
will your Majesty please to walk before the Constable?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> The Constable's a Rascal! And you are
a Son of a Whore!</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> A most noble Reply, truly! If this be her
royal Style, I'll warrant her Maids of Honour prattle
prettily: But we'll teach you some of our Court Dialect
before we part with you, Princess&mdash;Away with her to
the Round-house.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Hands off, you Ruffians! My Honour's dearer
to me than my Life; I hope you won't be uncivil.</p>

<p><em>Watch.</em> Away with her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>A Street</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Constable and Watchmen, with Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Come, forsooth, come along, if you please!
I once in Compassion thought to have seen
you safe home this Morning: But you have been so ram<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>pant
and abusive all Night, I shall see what the Justice
of Peace will say to you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> And you shall see what I'll say to the Justice
of Peace.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Watchman</span> knocks at the Door.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Is Mr. Justice at home?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Pray acquaint his Worship we have got an
unruly Woman here, and desire to know what he'll
please to have done with her.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> I'll acquaint my Master.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Serv.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Hark you, Constable, what cuckoldly Justice
is this?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> One that knows how to deal with such Romps
as you are, I'll warrant you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Justice.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Well, Mr. Constable, what is the matter there?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> An't please your Worship, this here comical
sort of a Gentlewoman has committed great Outrages
to-night. She has been frolicking with my Lord <em>Rake</em>
and his Gang; they attacked the Watch, and I hear
there has been a Man kill'd: I believe 'tis they have
done it.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, there may have been Murder, for aught
I know; and 'tis a great Mercy there has not been a
Rape too&mdash;that Fellow wou'd have ravish'd me.</p>

<p><em>2d Watch.</em> Ravish! Ravish! O lud! O lud! O lud!
Ravish her! Why, please your Worship, I heard Mr.
Constable say he believed she was little better than a
Maphrodite.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Why, truly, she does seem a little masculine
about the Mouth.</p>

<p><em>2d Watch.</em> Yes, and about the Hands too, an't please
your Worship; I did but offer in mere civility to help
her up the Steps into our Apartment, and with her gripen
Fist&mdash;ay, just so, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span> knocks him down.</em></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I fell'd him to the Ground like an Ox.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Out upon this boisterous Woman! Out upon
her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Mr. Justice, he wou'd have been uncivil! It
was in Defence of my Honour, and I demand Satisfaction.</p>

<p><em>2d Watch.</em> I hope your Worship will satisfy her Honour
in Bridewell; that Fist of hers will make an admirable
Hemp-beater.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, I hope you will protect me against
that libidinous Rascal; I am a Woman of Quality and
Virtue too, for all I am in an Undress this Morning.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Why, she has really the Air of a Sort of a Woman
a little something out of the common&mdash;&mdash;Madam,
if you expect I shou'd be favourable to you, I desire I
may know who you are.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, I am any body, at your Service.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Lady, I desire to know your Name?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, my Name's <em>Mary</em>.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Ay, but your Sur-name, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, my Sur-name's the very same with my
Husband's.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> A strange Woman this! Who is your Husband,
pray?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir <em>John</em>.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Sir <em>John</em> who?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir <em>John Brute</em>.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Is it possible, Madam, you can be my Lady
<em>Brute</em>?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> That happy Woman, Sir, am I; only a
little in my Merriment to-night.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I am concern'd for Sir <em>John</em>.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Truly, so am I.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I have heard he's an honest Gentleman&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> As ever drank.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Good lack! Indeed, Lady, I'm sorry he has
such a Wife.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> I am sorry he has any Wife at all.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> And so perhaps may he&mdash;&mdash;I doubt you have
not given him a very good Taste of Matrimony.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Taste, Sir! Sir, I have scorn'd to stint him
to a Taste, I have given him a full Meal of it.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Indeed I believe so! But pray, fair Lady, may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
he have given you any Occasion for this extraordinary
Conduct?&mdash;Does he not use you well?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> A little upon the rough sometimes.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Ay, any Man may be out of Humour now and
then.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, I love Peace and Quiet, and when a
Woman don't find that at home, she's apt sometimes to
comfort herself with a few innocent Diversions abroad.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I doubt he uses you but too well. Pray how
does he as to that weighty thing, Money? Does he allow
you what is proper of that?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, I have generally enough to pay the
reckoning, if this Son of a Whore of a Drawer wou'd
but bring his Bill.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> A strange Woman this&mdash;Does he spend a reasonable
Portion of his time at home, to the Comfort of
his Wife and Children?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> He never gave his Wife cause to repine at
his being abroad in his Life.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Pray, Madam, how may he be in the grand
matrimonial Point&mdash;&mdash;Is he true to your Bed?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Chaste! Oons! This Fellow asks so many
impertinent Questions! I'gad, I believe it is the Justice's
Wife in the Justice's Clothes.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> 'Tis a great pity he should have been thus disposed
of&mdash;Pray, Madam, (and then I've done) what
may be your Ladyship's common Method of Life, if
I may presume so far?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Why, Sir, much that of a Woman of
Quality.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Pray how may you generally pass your time,
Madam? Your Morning, for example.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, like a Woman of Quality&mdash;&mdash;I wake
about two o'Clock in the Afternoon&mdash;&mdash;I stretch&mdash;and
make a sign for my Chocolate&mdash;&mdash;When I have drank
three Cups&mdash;I slide down again upon my Back, with
my Arms over my Head, while my two Maids put on
my Stockings&mdash;&mdash;Then hanging upon their Shoulders,
I am trail'd to my great Chair, where I sit&mdash;&mdash;and yawn&mdash;&mdash;for
my Breakfast&mdash;&mdash;If it don't come presently, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
lie down upon my Couch to say my Prayers, while my
Maid reads me the Play-bills.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Very well, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> When the Tea is brought in, I drink
twelve regular Dishes, with eight Slices of Bread and
Butter&mdash;&mdash;And half an Hour after, I send to the Cook
to know if the Dinner is almost ready.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> So! Madam!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> By that time my Head is half drest, I hear
my Husband swearing himself into a State of Perdition,
that the Meat's all cold upon the Table; to amend
which, I come down in an Hour more, and have it
sent back to the Kitchen, to be all drest over again.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Poor Man!</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> When I have din'd, and my idle Servants
are presumptuously set down at their Ease, to do so too,
I call for my Coach, to go visit fifty dear Friends, of
whom I hope I shall never find one at home, while I
shall live.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> So! There's the Morning and Afternoon pretty
well dispos'd of&mdash;Pray, Madam, how do you pass your
Evenings?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Like a Woman of Spirit, Sir, a great Spirit.
Give me a Box and Dice&mdash;Seven's the main, Oons! Sir,
I set you a hundred Pound! Why, do you think Women
are married now-a-Days, to sit at home and mend
Napkins? Sir, we have nobler ways of passing time.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Mercy upon us, Mr. Constable, what will this
Age come to?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> What will it come to, indeed, if such Women
as these are not set in the Stocks?</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, I have a little urgent Business calls upon
me; and therefore I desire the Favour of you to bring
Matters to a Conclusion.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Madam, if I were sure that Business were not to
commit more Disorders, I wou'd release you.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> None&mdash;&mdash;by my virtue.</p>

<p><em>Just.</em> Then, Mr. Constable, you may discharge her.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Sir, your very humble Servant. If you
please to accept of a Bottle&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Just.</em> I thank you, kindly, Madam; but I never
drink in a Morning. Good by t'ye.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Good-by-t'ye, good Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Justice.</em></p>

<p>So&mdash;&mdash;now, Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up
a Whore together?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> No, thank you, Madam; my Wife's enough
to satisfy any reasonable Man.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] He, he, he, he, he&mdash;&mdash;the Fool is
married, then. Well, you won't go?</p>

<p><em>Constab.</em> Not I, truly.</p>

<p><em>Sir John.</em> Then I'll go by myself; and you and your
Wife may be damn'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Constable.</em> <em>gazing after her.</em>] Why, God-a-mercy, Lady.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-229.jpg" width="700" height="448" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a><br /><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-231.jpg" width="700" height="64" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="ESOP4" id="ESOP4"><em>ESOP</em>:</a><br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-231.jpg" width="700" height="64" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a><br /><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-233.jpg" width="700" height="74" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PREFACE4" id="PREFACE4">PREFACE.</a></h3>


<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">To</span> speak for a Play, if it cannot speak for
itself, is vain; and if it can, it is needless.
For one of these Reasons (I cannot yet tell which,
for it is now but the second Day of acting) I resolve
to say nothing for <em>Esop</em>, though I know he
would be glad of Help; for let the best happen that
can, his Journey is up Hill, with a dead <em>English</em>
Weight at the Tail of him.</p>

<p>At <em>Paris</em>, indeed, he scrambled up something faster
(for it was up Hill there, too) than I am afraid he
will do here: The <em>French</em> having more Mercury
in their Heads, and less Beef and Pudding in their
Bellies. Our Solidity may set hard, what their
Folly makes easy; for Fools I own they are, you
know we have found them so in the Conduct of the
War; I wish we may do so in the Management of
the Peace; but that is neither <em>Esop</em>'s Business nor
mine.</p>

<p>This Play, Gentlemen (or one not much unlike
it), was writ in <em>French</em> about six Years since by one
Monsieur <em>Boursaut</em>; it was play'd at <em>Paris</em> by the
<em>French</em> Comedians, and this was its Fate.</p>

<p>The first Day it appeared, it was routed (People
seldom being fond of what they do not understand,
their own sweet Persons excepted). The second
(by the help of some bold Knights-Errant) it rallied;
the third it advanced; the fourth it gave a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>
vigorous Attack; and the fifth put all the Feathers
in Town to the scamper, pursuing them on to the
fourteenth, and then they cried out Quarter.</p>

<p>It is not reasonable to expect <em>Esop</em> should gain so
great a Victory here, since it is possible, by fooling
with his Sword, I may have turned the Edge on't.
For I confess in the Translation I have not at all
stuck to the Original; nay, I have gone farther: I
have wholly added the fifth Act, and crouded a
Country Gentleman into the fourth; for which I
ask Monsieur <em>Boursaut</em>'s Pardon with all my Heart,
but doubt I never shall obtain it for bringing him
into such Company. Though, after all, had I been
so complaisant to have waited on his Play Word
for Word, it is possible, even that might not have
ensured the Success of it; for though it swam in
<em>France</em>, it might have sunk in <em>England</em>. Their
Country abounds in Cork, ours in Lead.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-234.jpg" width="700" height="640" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-235.jpg" width="700" height="69" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE4" id="PROLOGUE4">PROLOGUE.</a></h3>


<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">G</span>allants</span>, we never yet produc'd a Play</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With greater Fears than this we act to-day;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Barren of all the Graces of the Stage,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Barren of all that entertains this Age.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No Hero, no Romance, no Plot, no Shew,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No Rape, no Bawdy, no Intrigue, no Beau:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>There's nothing in't with which we use to please ye;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With downright dull Instruction w'are to tease ye;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Stage turns Pulpit, and the World's so fickle,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Play-House in a Whim turns Conventicle.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But Preaching here must prove a hungry Trade;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Patentees will find so, I'm afraid:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For tho' with heavenly Zeal you all abound,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As by your Lives and Morals may be found;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' every Female here o'erflows with Grace,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And chaste <span class="antiqua">Diana</span>'s written in her Face;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' Maids renounce the Sweets of Fornication,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And one lewd Wife's not left in all the Nation;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' Men grow true, and the foul Fiend defy;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' Tradesmen cheat no more, nor Lawyers lye;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' not one Spot be found on <span class="antiqua">Levi</span>'s Tribe,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nor one soft Courtier that will touch a Bribe;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet in the midst of such religious Days,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Sermons have never borne the Price of Plays.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae4" id="Dramatis_Personae4">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Esop</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Cibber</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Learchus</em>, Governor of <em>Sysicus</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Dogget</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Oronces</em>, in love with <em>Euphronia</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Harland</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Euphronia</em>, Daughter to <em>Learchus</em>, in love with <em>Oronces</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Temple</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Doris</em>, her Nurse,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Verbruggen</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td  colspan="2" class="tdc">People who come to <em>Esop</em>, upon several Occasions,
                                 independent one of another.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td rowspan="2" class="br">Two Country Tradesmen, </td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pinkethman</em> and</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mr. <em>Smeton</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Roger</em>, a Country Bumpkin,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Haynes</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Quaint</em>, a Herald,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pinkethman</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Fruitful</em>, an Inn-keeper,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Smeton</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>A Country Gentleman,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pinkethman</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>A Priest, Musicians, &amp;c.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Hortensia</em>, an affected learned Lady,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Kent</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Aminta</em>, a lewd Mother,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Willis</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Forge-Will</em>, a Scrivener's Widow,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Finch</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Fruitful</em>, Wife to the Inn-keeper,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Powell</em>.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
<img src="images/bar-237a.jpg" width="700" height="76" alt="" />
</div>

<p class="ph2"><em>ESOP.</em>
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-237b.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I4" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, Learchus's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Learchus</span>, <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">A</span>t</span> length I am blest with the sight of the
World's Wonder, the Delight of Mankind,
the incomparable <em>Esop</em>. You had time to observe him
last Night, Daughter, as he sat at Supper with me.
Tell me how you like him, Child; is he not a charming
Person?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Charming!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> What say'st thou to him, <em>Doris</em>? Thou art a
good Judge, a Wench of a nice Palate.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> You wou'd not have me flatter, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> No, speak thy Thoughts boldly.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Boldly, you say?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Boldly, I say.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Why, then, Sir, my Opinion of the Gentleman
is, that he's uglier than an old Beau.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> How! Impudence.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, if you are angry, Sir, second Thoughts are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
best; he's as proper as a Pikeman, holds up his Head
like a Dancing-Master, has the Shape of a Barb, the
Face of an Angel, the Voice of a Cherubim, the Smell
of a Civet-Cat&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> In short, thou art Fool enough not to be pleas'd
with him.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Excuse me for that, Sir; I have Wit enough to
make myself merry with him&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> If his Body's deform'd, his Soul is beautiful:
Would to kind Heaven, as he is, my Daughter cou'd
but find the means to please him!</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> To what End, dear Father?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> That he might be your Husband, dear Daughter.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> My Husband! Shield me, kind Heaven&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Psha! he has a mind to make us laugh, that's
all.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> <em>Esop</em>, then, is not worth her Care, in thy Opinion?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Why, truly, Sir, I'm always for making suitable
Matches, and don't much approve of breeding Monsters.
I wou'd have nothing marry a Baboon, but what has
been got by a Monkey.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> How dar'st thou liken so incomparable a Man
to so contemptible a Beast?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em>. Ah, the Inconstancy of this World! Out of
sight, out f Mind. Your little Monkey is scarce cold
in his Grave, and you have already forgot what you
us'd so much to admire: Do but call him to remembrance,
Sir, in his red Coat, new Gloves, little Hat,
and clean Linen; then discharge your Conscience, utter
the Truth from your Heart, and tell us whether he was
not the prettier Gentleman of the two&mdash;By my Virginity,
Sir, (tho' that's but a slippery Oath, you'll say)
had they made love to me together, <em>Esop</em> should have
worn the Willow.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Since nothing but an Animal will please thee,
'tis pity my Monkey had not that Virginity thou hast
sworn by. But I, whom Wisdom charms even in the
homeliest Dress, can never think the much-deserving
<em>Esop</em> unworthy of my Daughter.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Now, in the Name of Wonder, what is't you
so admire in him?</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lear.</em> Hark, and thou shalt know; but you, <em>Euphronia</em>,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Be you more especially attentive.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis true he's plain; but that's, my Girl, a Trifle.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All manly Beauty's seated in the Soul;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And that of <em>Esop</em>, Envy's self must own,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Outshines whate'er the World has yet produc'd.<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Crœsus</em>, the prosperous Favourite of Heaven;<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Crœsus</em>, the happiest Potentate on Earth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whose Treasure (tho' immense) is the least Part<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of what he holds from Providence's Care,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Leans on his Shoulder as his grand Support,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Admires his Wisdom, doats upon his Truth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And makes him Pilot to Imperial Sway.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But in this elevated Post of Power,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What's his Employ? Where does he point his Thoughts?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To live in Splendour, Luxury, and Ease,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Do endless Mischiefs, by neglecting Good,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And build his Family on other's Ruins?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He serves the Prince, and serves the People too;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is useful to the Rich, and helps the Poor;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There's nothing stands neglected, but himself.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With constant Pain, and yet with constant Joy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From Place to Place throughout the Realm he goes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With useful Lessons, form'd to every Rank:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The People learn Obedience from his Tongue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Magistrate is guided in Command,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Prince is minded of a Father's Care,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Subjects taught the Duty of a Child.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And as 'tis dangerous to be bold with Truth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He often calls for Fable to his Aid,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where, under abject Names of Beasts and Birds,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Virtue shines out, and Vice is cloath'd in Shame.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And thus, by inoffensive Wisdom's Force,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He conquers Folly wheresoe'er he moves:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This is his Portrait.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Dor.</em> A very good Picture of a very ill Face!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Well, Daughter; what, not a Word? Is it pos<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>sible
any thing that I am Father of can be untouch'd
with so much Merit?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> My Duty may make all things possible: But
<em>Esop</em> is so ugly, Sir&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> His Soul has so much Beauty in't, your Reason
ought to blind your Eyes: Besides, my Interest is concern'd;
his Power alarms me. I know throughout the
Kingdom he's the Scourge of evil Magistrates, turns out
Governors when they turn Tyrants; breaks Officers for
false Musters; excludes Judges from giving Sentence,
when they have been absent during the Trial; hangs
Lawyers when they take Fees on both Sides; forbids
Physicians to take Money of those they don't cure. 'Tis
true, my Innocence ought to banish my Fears: But my
Government, Child, is too delicious a Morsel, not to set
many a frail Mouth a-watering. Who knows what Accusations
Envy may produce? But all wou'd be secure,
if thou could'st touch the Heart of <em>Esop</em>. Let me blow
up thy Ambition, Girl; the Fire of that will make thy
Eyes sparkle at him. [<em>She sighs.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;What's that Sigh
for, now? Ha! A young Husband, by my Conscience:
Ah Daughter, hadst thou a young Husband, he'd make
thee sigh indeed. I'll tell thee what he's compos'd of.
He has a Wig full of Pulvilio, a Pocket full of Dice, a
Heart full of Treason, a Mouth full of Lyes, a Belly
full of Drink, a Carcase full of Plaisters, a Tail full of
Pox, and a Head full of&mdash;&mdash;nothing. There's his
Picture: wear it at thy Heart, if thou can'st but here
comes one of greater Worth.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Good Morning to my noble Lord; your Excellency&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Softly, good Governor: I'm a poor Wanderer
from Place to Place; too weak to train the Weight of
Grandeur with me! The Name of Excellency's not for
me.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> My noble Lord, 'tis due to your Imploy; your
Predecessors all&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> My Predecessors all deserv'd it, Sir; they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
great Men in Wisdom, Birth and Service; whilst I, a
poor, unknown, decrepid Wretch, mounted aloft for Fortune's
Pastime, expect each Moment to conclude the
Farce, by sinking to the Mud from whence I sprung.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Great <em>Crœsus</em>'s Gratitude will still support you;
his Coffers all are open to your Will, your future Fortune's
wholly in your Power.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But 'tis a Power that I shall ne'er employ.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Why so, my Lord?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'll tell you, Sir.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A hungry Goat, who had not eat</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some Nights and Days&mdash;&mdash;(for want of Meat)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was kindly brought at last,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By Providence's Care,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To better Cheer,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>After a more than penitential Fast.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>He found a Barn well stor'd with Grain:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To enter in requir'd some Pain;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But a delicious Bait</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Makes the Way easy, tho' the Pass is strait.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Our Guest observing various Meats,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He put on a good modish Face,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He takes his Place,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He ne'er says Grace,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>But where he likes, he there falls to and eats.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>At length, with jaded Teeth and Jaws,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He made a Pause;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And finding still some room,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Fell to as he had done before,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For time to come laid in his Store;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And when his Guts cou'd hold no more,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>He thought of going home.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>But here he met the Glutton's Curse;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He found his Belly grown so great,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Twas vain to think of a Retreat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Till he had render'd all he had eat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And well he far'd no worse.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>To the Application, Governor.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> 'Tis easy to be made, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'm glad on't, Truth can never be too clear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
[<em>Seeing <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>.</em>] Is this young Damsel your fair Daughter,
Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> 'Tis my Daughter, my good Lord: Fair too,
if she appears such in the Eyes of the unerring <em>Esop</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Going up to salute her.</em>] I never saw so beautiful
a Creature.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Now's the time; kiss soft, Girl, and
fire him.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Gazing at her.</em>] How partial's Nature 'twixt
her Form and mine!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Look, look, look, how he gazes at her!&mdash;--<em>Cupid</em>'s
hard at work, I see that already. Slap;
there he hits him&mdash;if the Wench would but do her Part.
But see, see, how the perverse young Baggage stands
biting her Thumbs, and won't give him one kind Glance&mdash;&mdash;Ah
the sullen Jade! Had it been a handsome
strong Dog, of five-and-twenty, she'd a fall'n a coquetting
on't, with every Inch about her. But may
be 'tis I that spoils Sport; I'll make a Pretence to leave
them together. Will your Lordship please to drink any
Coffee this Morning?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> With all my Heart, Governor.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Your Lordship will give me leave to go and order
it myself; for unless I am by, 'tis never perfect.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Provided you leave me this fair Maid in Hostage
for your Return, I consent.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> My good Lord does my Daughter too much
Honour. Ah that the Wench wou'd but do her Part!
[<em>Aside going off.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Hark, you, Hussy&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Turning
back to <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>, aside.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;You can give yourself
Airs sometimes, you know you can. Do you remember
what work you made with yourself at Church t'other
Day? Play your Tricks over again, once more, for my
Pleasure, and let me have a good Account of this
Statesman, or, d'ye hear?&mdash;&mdash;You shall die a Maid; go
chew upon that; go.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Here I am left, fair Damsel, too much expos'd
to your Charms, not to fall your Victim.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Your Fall will then be due to your own Weak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>ness,
Sir; for, Heaven's my Witness, I neither endeavour
nor wish to wound you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I understand you, Lady; your Heart's already
dispos'd of; 'tis seldom otherways, at your Age.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> My Heart dispos'd of!</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, never mince the Matter, Madam. The
Gentleman looks like a civil Gentleman, e'en confess
the Truth to him: He has a good Interest with your
Father, and no Doubt will employ it to break the
Heathenish Match he proposes to you. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] Yes,
Sir, my young Lady has been in love these two Years,
and that with as pretty a Fellow as ever entered a Virgin's
Heart; tall, strait, young, vigorous, good Clothes,
long Perriwig, clean Linen; in brief, he has every thing
that's necessary to set a young Lady a-longing, and to
stay it when he has done: but her Father, whose Ambition
makes him turn Fool in his old Age, comes with
a back Stroke upon us, and spoils all our Sport. Wou'd
you believe it, Sir? He has propos'd to her to-day the
most confounded ugly Fellow! Look, if the very
Thoughts of him don't set the poor Thing a-crying!
And you, Sir, have so much Power with the old Gentleman,
that one Word from you would set us all right
again. If he will have her a Wife, in the Name of <em>Venus</em>,
let him provide her a handsome Husband, and not
throw her into the Paws of a Thing, that Nature, in a
merry Humour, has made half Man, half Monkey.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray, what's this Monster's Name, Lady?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> No matter for his Name, Sir; my Father will
know what you mean, at first Word.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But you shou'd not always chuse by the Outside
alone: believe me, fair Damsel, a fine Perriwig keeps
many a Fool's Head from the Weather: Have a Care
of your young Gallant.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> There's no Danger, I have examin'd him; his
Inside's as good as his out! I say, he has Wit, and I
think I know.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Nay, she says true; he's even a Miracle of
Wit and Beauty: Did you but see him, you'd be yourself
my Rival.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Then you are resolv'd against the Monster?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Fy, Sir, fy; I wonder you'll put her in Mind
of that foul, frightful Thing: We shall have her dream
of nothing all Night but Bats and Owls, and Toads and
Hedge-hogs; and then we shall have such a squeaking
and squalling with her, the whole House will be in an
Uproar: Therefore, pray, Sir, name him no more, but
use your Interest with her Father, that she may never
hear of him again.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But if I shou'd be so generous to save you from
the old Gallant, what shall I say for your young one?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> O, Sir, you may venture to enlarge upon his
Perfections; you need not fear saying too much in his
Praise.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And pray, Sir, be as copious upon the Defects
of t'other; you need not fear out-running the Text
there, neither, say the worst you can.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> You may say, the first is the most graceful
Man that <em>Asia</em> ever brought forth.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And you may say the latter is the most deform'd
Monster that Copulation ever produc'd.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Tell him that <em>Oronces</em> (for that is his dear
Name) has all the Virtues that compose a perfect Hero.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And tell him, that <em>Pigmy</em> has all the Vices that
go to equip an Attorney.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> That to one I cou'd be true to the last Moment
of my Life.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> That for t'other, she'd cuckold him the very
Day of her Marriage. This, Sir, in few Words, is
the Theme you are desir'd to preach upon.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I never yet had one that furnish'd me with
more Matter.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> My Lord, there's a Lady below desires to speak
with your Honour.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What Lady?</p>

<p><em>Ser.</em> 'Tis my Lady&mdash;my Lady&mdash;[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>] The Lady
there, the wise-Lady, the great Scholar, that Nobody
can understand.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> O ho, is it she? Pray let's withdraw, and
oblige her, Madam; she's ready to swoon at the insipid
Sight of one of her own Sex.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> You'll excuse us, Sir; we leave you to wiser
Company.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>. and <span class="antiqua">Dor</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Hortensia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Hort.</em> The Deess, who from <em>Atropos</em>'s Breast preserves
the Names of Heroes and their Actions, proclaims your
Fame throughout this mighty Orb, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Shield me, my Stars! What have you
sent me here? For Pity's Sake, good Lady, be more
humane: My Capacity is too heavy, to mount to your
Style: If you wou'd have me know what you mean,
please to come down to my Understanding.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Hort.</em> I've something in my Nature soars too high<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For vulgar Flight, I own;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But <em>Esop</em>'s Sphere must needs be within Call;<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Esop</em> and I may sure converse together:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I know he's modest, but I likewise know<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His Intellects are categorical.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Now, by my Faith, Lady, I don't know what
<em>Intellect</em> is; and methinks, <em>categorical</em> sounds as if you
call'd me Names. Pray, speak that you may be understood:
Language was design'd for it; indeed it was.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Hort.</em> Of vulgar Things in vulgar Phrase we talk;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when of <em>Esop</em> we must speak,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Theme's too lofty for an humble Style:<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Esop</em> is sure no common Character.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No, truly; I am something particular. Yet if
I am not mistaken, what I have extraordinary about
me, may be describ'd in very homely Language. Here
was a young Gentlewoman but just now pencil'd me
out to a Hair, I thought; and yet, I vow to God, the
learned'st Word I heard her make use of, was Monster.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Hort.</em> That was a Woman, Sir, a very Woman;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her Cogitations all were on the outward Man:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I strike deeper; 'tis the Mind I view.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Soul's the worthy Object of my Care;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Soul, that Sample of Divinity, that glorious<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
<span class="i0">Ray of heavenly Light. The Soul, that awful<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Throne of Thought, that sacred Seat of Contemplation.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Soul, that noble Source of Wisdom,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That Fountain of Comfort,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That Spring of Joy, that happy Token of eternal<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Life. The Soul, that&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray, Lady, are you married?</p>

<p><em>Hort.</em> Why that Question, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Only that I might wait upon your Husband, to
wish him Joy.</p>

<p><em>Hort.</em> When People of my Composition would marry,
they first find something of their own Species to join
with; I never could resolve to take a Thing of common
Fabric to my Bed, lest, when his brutish Inclinations
prompt him, he shou'd make me Mother to a Form like
his own.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Methinks, a Lady so extremely nice should be
much at a Loss who to converse with.</p>

<p><em>Hort.</em> I keep my Chamber, and converse with myself;
'tis better being alone, than to mis-ally one's
Conversation: Men are scandalous, and Women are
insipid: Discourse without Figure makes me sick at
my Soul: O the Charms of a Metaphor! What Harmony
there is in the Words of Erudition! The Musick
of them is inimaginable.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Will you hear a Fable, Lady?</p>

<p><em>Hort.</em> Willingly, Sir; the Apologue pleases me,
when the Application of it is just.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> It is, I'll answer for it.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Once on a Time a Nightingale,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
<span class="i2"><em>To Changes prone,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Unconstant, fickle, whimsical,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>(A Female one)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Who sung like others of her kind,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Hearing a well-taught Linnet's Airs,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Had other Matters in her Mind.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>To imitate him she prepares;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Her Fancy strait was on the Wing:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>I fly, quoth she,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>As well as he;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I don't know why</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>I should not try</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As well as he to sing.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>From that Day forth she chang'd her Note,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She spoil'd her Voice, she strain'd her Throat:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She did, as learned Women do,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Till every Thing</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>That heard her sing</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wou'd run away from her&mdash;&mdash;as I from you.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Exit</span> Esop <span class="antiqua">running</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Hortensia</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>How grossly does this poor World suffer itself to be
impos'd upon!&mdash;--<em>Esop</em>, a Man of Sense&mdash;&mdash;Ha!
ha! ha! ha! ha! Alas, poor Wretch! I shou'd not
have known him but by his Deformity; his Soul's as
nauseous to my Understanding, as his odious Body to
my Sense of Feeling. Well,</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>'Mongst all the Wits that are allow'd to shine,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Methinks there's nothing yet approaches mine:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Sure I was sent the homely Age t'adorn;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What Star, I know not, rul'd when I was born,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But every Thing besides myself's my Scorn.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Exit.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-247.jpg" width="700" height="45" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_II4" id="ACT_II4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> and <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>hat</span>, in the Name of <em>Jove</em>, 's the matter
with you? Speak, for Heaven's sake!</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Oh! what shall I do? <em>Doris</em>, I'm undone.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> What, ravish'd?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> No, ten times worse! Ten times worse! Unlace
me, or I shall swoon.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Unlace you? Why, you are not thereabouts,
I hope?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> No no, worse still; worse than all that.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, then 'tis bad, indeed.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Doris</span> unlaces her.</em></p>

<p>There: How d'ye do now?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> So; 'tis going over.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Courage, pluck up your Spirits: Well, now
what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> The matter! Thou shalt hear. Know that&mdash;that
Cheat&mdash;<em>Esop</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Like enough; speak: What has he done! That
ugly ill-boding Cyclops&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why, instead of keeping his Promise, and speaking
for <em>Oronces</em>, he has not said one Word, but what has
been for himself. And by my Father's Order, before
to-morrow Noon he's to marry me.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> He marry you!</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Am I in the wrong to be in this Despair? Tell
me, <em>Doris</em>, if I am to blame.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> To blame? No, by my troth. That ugly, old,
treacherous piece of Vermin&mdash;that melancholy Mixture
of Impotence and Desire&mdash;does his Mouth stand to a
young Partridge? Ah the old Goat! And your Father!
He downright doats at last, then.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Ah, <em>Doris</em>, what a Husband does he give me!
And what a Lover does he rob me of! Thou know'st
'em both; think of <em>Oronces</em>, and think of <em>Esop</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>Spitting.</em>] A foul Monster! And yet, now I
think on't, I'm almost as angry at t'other too: Methinks
he makes but a slow Voyage on't, for a Man in Love:
'Tis now above two Months since he went to <em>Lesbos</em>, to
pack up the old Bones of his dead Father; sure he
might have made a little more Haste.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Oh! my Heart, what do I see?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Talk of the Devil, and he's at your Elbow.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> My dear Soul!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Euph.</span> runs and leaps about his Neck.</em></p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why wou'd you stay so long from me?</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> 'Twas not my Fault, indeed; the Winds&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> The Winds! Will the Winds blow you your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
Mistress again? We have had Winds too, and Waves
into the Bargain; Storms and Tempests, Sea-Monsters,
and the Devil and all. She struggled as long as she
cou'd, but a Woman can do no more than she can do;
when her Breath was gone, down she sunk.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> What's the meaning of all this?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> There's meaning and mumping too: your Mistress
is married: that's all.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Death and Furies&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> [<em>Clinging about him.</em>] Don't you frighten him
too much, neither, <em>Doris</em>. No, my Dear, I'm not yet
executed, tho' I'm condemn'd.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Condemn'd! To what? Speak! Quick!</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> To be married.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Married? When? How? Where? To what?
To whom?</p>

<p><em>Dor. Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop.</em></p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Fiends and Spectres! What! That piece of
Deformity! That Monster! That Crump!</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> The same, Sir, the same. I find he knows him.
You might have come home sooner.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Dear <em>Euphronia</em>, ease me from my Pain.
Swear that you neither have nor will consent.
I know this comes from your ambitious Father;
But you're too generous, too true to leave me:
Millions of Kingdoms ne'er wou'd shake my Faith,
And I believe your Constancy as firm.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> You do me Justice, you shall find you do: For
Racks and Tortures, Crowns and Scepters join'd, shall
neither fright me from my Truth, nor tempt me to be
false. On this you may depend.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Wou'd to the Lord you wou'd find some other
Place to make your fine Speeches in! Don't you know
that your dear Friend <em>Esop</em>'s coming to receive his Visits
here? In this great downy Chair, your pretty little
Husband Elect is to sit and hear all the Complaints of
the Town: One of Wisdom's chief Recompences being
to be constantly troubled with the Business of Fools.
Pray, Madam, will you take the Gentleman by the
Hand, and lead him into your Chamber; and when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
you are there, don't lie whining, and crying, and sighing,
and wishing&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] If he had not been
more modest than wise, he might have set such a Mark
upon the Goods before now, that ne'er a Merchant of
'em all wou'd have bought 'em out of his Hands. But
young Fellows are always in the wrong: Either so impudent
they are nauseous, or so modest they are useless.
Go; pray get you gone together.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> But if my Father catch us, we are ruin'd.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> By my Conscience, this Love will make us all
turn Fools. Before your Father can open the Door,
can't he slip down the Back-stairs? I'm sure he may, if
you don't hold him; but that's the old Trade. Ah&mdash;Well,
get you gone, however&mdash;&mdash;Hark&mdash;&mdash;I hear the
old Baboon cough; away! [<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Oron.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Euph.</span> running.</em>]
Here he comes, with his ugly Beak before him.
Ah&mdash;a luscious Bedfellow, by my troth!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> and <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Well, <em>Doris</em>; what News from my Daughter?
Is she prudent?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Yes, very prudent.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> What says she? What does she do?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Do? What shou'd she do? Tears her Cornet;
bites her Thumbs; throws her Fan in the Fire; thinks
'tis dark Night at Noon-day; dreams of Monsters and
Hobgoblins; raves in her Sleep of forc'd Marriage and
Cuckoldom; cries, <em>Avaunt</em> Deformity; then wakens on
a sudden, with fifty Arguments at her Fingers-ends to
prove the Lawfulness of Rebellion in a Child, when a
Parent turns Tyrant.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Very fine! But all this shan't serve her turn. I
have said the Word, and will be obey'd&mdash;&mdash;My Lord
does her Honour.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Yes, and that's all he can do to her.
[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em>] But I can't blame the Gentleman, after all;
he loves my Mistress, because she's handsome; and she
hates him, because he's ugly. I never saw two People
more in the right in my Life. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] You'll pardon
me, Sir, I'm somewhat free.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, a Ceremony wou'd but take up time.
But, Governor, methinks I have an admirable Advocate
about your Daughter.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Out of the Room, Impudence: be gone, I say.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> So I will: But you'll be as much in the wrong
when I'm gone, as when I'm here. And your Conscience,
I hope, will talk as pertly to you as I can do.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If she treats me thus before my face, I may conclude
I'm finely handled behind my Back.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I say the Truth here; and I can say no worse
any where.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> I hope your Lordship won't be concern'd at
what this prattling Wench bleats out: my Daughter
will be govern'd. She's bred up to Obedience. There
may be some small Difficulty in weaning her from her
young Lover: But 'twon't be the first time she has been
wean'd from a Breast, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Does she love him fondly, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Foolishly, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And he her?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> The same.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Is he young?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Yes, and vigorous.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Rich?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> So, so.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well-born?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> He has good Blood in his Veins.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Has he Wit?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> He had, before he was in Love.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And handsome with all this?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Or else we shou'd not have half so much trouble
with him.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why do you, then, make her quit him for me?
All the World knows I am neither young, noble, nor
rich: And as for my Beauty&mdash;&mdash;Look you, Governor,
I'm honest. But when Children cry, they tell 'em
<em>Esop</em>'s a-coming. Pray, Sir, what is it makes you so
earnest to force your Daughter?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Am I, then, to count for nothing the favour you
are in at Court? Father-in-law to the great <em>Esop</em>! What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
may not I aspire to? My foolish Daughter, perhaps,
mayn't be so well pleas'd with it, but we wise Parents
usually weigh our Children's Happiness in the Scale of
our own Inclinations.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, Governor, let it be your Care, then, to
make her consent.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> This Moment, my Lord, I reduce her either
to Obedience, or to Dust and Ashes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Adieu. Now let in the People who come for
Audience.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Esop</span> sits in his Chair, reading of Papers.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter two ordinary Tradesmen.</em>
</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> There he is, Neighbour: Do but look at him.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> Aye; one may know him: He's well mark'd.
But do'st hear me? What Title must we give him? for
if we fail in that point, d'ye see me, we shall never get
our Business done. Courtiers love Titles almost as well
as they do Money, and that's a bold Word now.</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> Why, I think we had best call him, his Grandeur.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> That will do; thou hast hit on't. Hold still,
let me speak. May it please your Grandeur&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> There I interrupt you, Friend; I have a weak
Body that will ne'er be able to bear that Title.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> D'ye hear that, Neighbour? What shall we
call him now?</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> Why, call him, call him, his Excellency;
try what that will do.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> May it please your Excellency&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Excellency's a long Word, it takes up too much
time in Business: Tell me what you'd have in few Words.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Neighbour, this Man will never give<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ten thousand Pounds to be made a Lord.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But what shall I say to him now?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He puts me quite out of my play.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> Why e'en talk to him as we do to one another.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> Shall I? Why, so I will, then. Hem! Neighbour,
we want a new Governor, Neighbour.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A new Governor, Friend?</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> Aye, Friend.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, what's the matter with your old one?</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What's the matter!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Why, he grows rich; that's the matter;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And he that's rich can't be innocent; that's all.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Does he use any of you harshly? Or punish you
without a Fault?</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> No, but he grows as rich as a Miser; his Purse
is so cramm'd, 'tis ready to burst again.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> When 'tis full, 'twill hold no more; a new Governor
will have an empty one.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> 'Fore Gad, Neighbour, the little Gentleman's
in the right on't.</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Why, truly, I don't know but he may:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For now it comes in my Head,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It cost me more Money to fat my Hog,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Than to keep him fat when he was so.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pr'ythee tell him we'll keep our old Governor.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> I'll do't. Why, look you, Sir, d'ye see me:
Having seriously consider'd of the matter, my Neighbour
<em>Hobson</em> and I here, we are content to jog on a little
longer with him we have: but if you'd do us another
Courtesy, you might.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What's that, Friend?</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> Why, that's this: Our King Crœsus is a very
good Prince, as a Man may say: But&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;but&mdash;Taxes
are high, an't please you; and&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;poor
Men want Money, d'ye see me: 'Tis very hard, as we
think, that the Poor shou'd work to maintain the Rich.
If there were no Taxes, we shou'd do pretty well.</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> Taxes, indeed, are very burdensome.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'll tell you a Story, Countrymen.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Once on a time, the Hands and Feet,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As Mutineers, grew mighty great;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They met, caball'd, and talk'd of Treason,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They swore by <span class="antiqua">Jove</span> they knew no Reason</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Belly shou'd have all the Meat&mdash;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It was a damn'd notorious Cheat</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They did the Work, and&mdash;Death and Hell, they'd eat.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The Belly, who ador'd good Chear,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Had like t'have dy'd away for Fear:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Quoth he, Good Folks, you little know</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What 'tis you are about to do;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If I am starv'd, what will become of you?</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We neither know nor care, cry'd they,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But this we will be bound to say,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We'll see you damn'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Before we'll work,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And you receive the Pay.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>With that the Hands to Pocket went</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Full Wrist-band deep,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Legs and Feet fell fast asleep:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Their Liberty they had redeem'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And all, except the Belly, seem'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Extremely well content.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>But mark what follow'd; 'twas not long</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Before the right became the wrong;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Mutineers were grown so weak,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They found 'twas more than time to squeak:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They call for work, but 'twas too late.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The Stomach (like an aged Maid,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Shrunk up, for want of human Aid)</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The common Debt of Nature paid,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And with its Destiny entrain'd their Fate.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What think you of this Story, Friends, ha?
Come, you look like wise Men; I'm sure you understand
what's for your good; in giving part of what you have,
you secure all the rest: If the King had no Money, there
cou'd be no Army; and if there were no Army, your
Enemies would be amongst you: One Day's Pillage
wou'd be worse than twenty Years' Taxes. What say ye?
Is't not so?</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> By my troth, I think he's in the right on't, again.
Who'd think that little Hump-back of his
Shou'd have so much Brains in't, Neighbour?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, honest Men, is there any thing else that I
can serve you in?</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> D'ye hear that, <em>Humphry</em>?&mdash;&mdash;Why, that was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
civil now. But Courtiers seldom want Good-breeding;
let's give the Devil his due. Why, to tell you the truth,
honest Gentlemen, we had a whole Budget full of Grievances
to complain of. But I think&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;Ha, Neighbour?
We had e'en as good let 'em alone.</p>

<p><em>1 Tra.</em> Why good feath I think so too; for by all I
can see, we are like to make no great hond on't. Besides,
between thee and me, I began to daubt, whether
aur Grievances do us such a plaguy deal of Mischief as
we fancy.</p>

<p><em>2 Tra.</em> Or put the Case they did, <em>Humphry</em>; I'se afraid
he that goes to a Courtier, in hope to get fairly rid of
'em, may be said (in our Country Dialect) to take the
wrong Sow by the Ear. But here's Neighbour <em>Roger</em>,
he's a Wit, let's leave him to him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Roger</span>, a Country Bumkin, looks seriously upon <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>;
then bursts out a laughing.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Did ever Mon behold the
like? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Hast thou any business with me, Friend?</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Yes, by my troth, have I;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But if <em>Roger</em> were to be hang'd up for't,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Look you now, he cou'd not hold laughing:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What I have in my Mind, out it comes: But bar that;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'se on honest Lad as well as another.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> My time's dearer to me than yours, Friend;
have you any thing to say to me?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Gadswookers, do People use to ask for Folks
when they have nothing to say to 'em: I'se tell you my
Business.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Let's hear it.</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> I have, as you see, a little Wit.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> True.</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> I live in a Village hard by, and I'se the best Man
in it, tho' I say it that should not say it. I have good
Drink in my Cellar, and good Corn in my Barn: I have
Cows and Oxen, Hogs and Sheep, Cocks and Hens,
and Geese and Turkeys: But the Truth will out, and so
let it out. I'se e'en tired of being call'd plain <em>Roger</em>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
I has a Leathern Purse, and in that Purse there's many
a fair Half-crown, with the King's sweet Face upon it,
God bless him; and with his Money, I have a mind to
bind myself 'Prentice to a Courtier: 'Tis a good Trade,
as I have heard say; there's Money stirring: Let a Lad
be but diligent, and do what he's bid, he shall be let
into the Secret, and share Part of the Profits; I have not
lived to these Years for nothing: Those that will swim
must go into deep water: I'se get our Wife <em>Joan</em> to be
the Queen's Chamber-maid; and then&mdash;&mdash;Crack, says
me I; and forget all my Acquaintance. But to come to
the Business. You who are the King's great Favourite,
I desire you'd be pleas'd to sell me some of your Friendship,
that I may get a Court-Place. Come, you shall
chuse me one yourself; you look like a shrewd Man; by
the Mass, you do.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I chuse thee a Place!</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Yes, I wou'd willingly have it such a sort of a
Place, as wou'd cost little, and bring in a great deal; in
a Word, much Profit, and nothing to do.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But you must name what Post you think wou'd
suit your Humour.</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Why I'se pratty indifferent as to that: Secretary
of State, or Butler; twenty Shillings more, or twenty
Shillings less, is not the thing I stand upon. I'se no
Hagler, Godswookers; and he that says I am&mdash;'Zbud
he lies: There's my Humour now.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But hark you, Friend, you say you are well as
you are, why then do you desire to change?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Why what a Question now is there for a Man of
your Parts? I'm well, d'ye see me; and what of all that?
I desire to be better: There's an Answer for you. [<em>Aside.</em>]
Let <em>Roger</em> alone with him.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Very well: This is reasoning; and I love a
Man should reason with me. But let us enquire a little
whether your Reasons are good or not. You say, at home
you want for nothing?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Nothing, 'fore <em>George</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You have good Drink?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> 'Zbud, the best i'th' Parish. [<em>Singing.</em>] And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
dawne it merrily goes, my Lad, and dawne it merrily
goes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You eat heartily?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> I have a noble Stomach.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You sleep well?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Just as I drink, till I can sleep no longer.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You have some honest Neighbours?</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> Honest! 'Zbud we are all so, the Tawne raund,
we live like Breether; when one can sarve another, he
does it with all his Heart and Guts; when we have any
thing that's good, we eat it together, Holidays and Sundays
we play at Nine-pins, tumble upon the Grass with
wholesome young Maids, laugh till we split, daunce till
we are weary, eat till we burst, drink till we are sleepy,
then swap into Bed, and snore till we rise to Breakfast.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And all this thou wou'dst leave to go to Court?
I'll tell thee what once happen'd:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A Mouse, who long had liv'd at Court,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(Yet ne'er the better Christian for't)</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Walking one Day to see some Country Sport,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He met a home-bred Village-Mouse;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Who with an awkward Speech and Bow,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That savour'd much of Cart and Plow,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Made a shift, I know not how,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>T' invite him to his House.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Quoth he, My Lord, I doubt you'll find</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Our Country Fare of homely kind;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But by my troth, you're welcome to't,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Y'ave that, and Bread and Cheese to boot:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And so they sat and din'd.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Very well.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Esop.</em> <em>The <span class="antiqua">Courtier</span> cou'd have eat at least</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As much as any Houshold Priest,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But thought himself oblig'd in Feeding,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To shew the difference of Town breeding;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He pick'd and cull'd, and turn'd the Meat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He champt and chew'd, and cou'd not eat:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No toothless Woman at Fourscore,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was ever seen to mumble more.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He made a thousand ugly Faces,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which (as sometimes in Ladies cases)</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Were all design'd for Airs and Graces.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Ha, ha!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>At last he from the Table rose,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He pick'd his Teeth and blow'd his Nose,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And with an easy Negligence,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As tho' he lately came from France,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He made a careless sliding Bow:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Fore Gad, quoth he, I don't know how</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I shall return your friendly Treat;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But if you'll take a bit of Meat</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In Town with me,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You there shall see,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>How we poor Courtiers eat.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Tit for tat; that was friendly.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>There needed no more Invitation</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To e'er a Country 'Squire i'th' Nation:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Exactly to the time he came,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Punctual as Woman when she meets</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Man between a pair of Sheets,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As good a Stomach, and as little Shame.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>To say the Truth, he found good Chear,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With Wine, instead of Ale and Beer:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But just as they sat down to eat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Came bouncing in a hungry Cat.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>The nimble Courtier skipt from Table,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The 'Squire leapt too, as he was able:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It can't be said that they were beat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It was no more than a Retreat;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which when an Army, not to fight</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By Day-light, runs away by Night,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was ever judg'd a great and glorious Feat.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Ever, ever, ever.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>The Cat retir'd, our Guests return,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Danger past becomes their Scorn,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They fall to eating as before,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Butler rumbles at the Door.</em><br /></span>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Good Lord!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>To Boot and Saddle again they sound.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Ta ra, tan tan ta ra, ra ra tan ta ra.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>They frown, as they wou'd stand their Ground,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But (like some of our Friends) they found</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Twas safer much to scour.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Rog.</em> Tantive, Tantive, Tantive, <em>&amp;c.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Esop. <em>At length the 'Squire, who hated Arms,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was so perplext with these Alarms,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He rose up in a kind of Heat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Udswookers, quoth he, with all your Meat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I will maintain, a Dish of Pease,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Radish, and a Slice of Cheese,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With a good Desert of Ease,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Is much a better Treat.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>However,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Since every Man shou'd have his due,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I own, Sir, I'm oblig'd to you</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For your Intentions at your Board:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But Pox upon your courtly Crew&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Rog.</em> <em>Amen</em>, I pray the Lord. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Now the De'el cuckold me if this Story be not worth a
Sermon. Give me your Hond, Sir.&mdash;&mdash;If it had na'
been for your friendly Advice, I was going to be Fool
enough to be Secretary of State.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, go thy ways home, and be wiser for the
future.</p>

<p><em>Rog.</em> And so I will: For that same Mause, your Friend,
was a witty Person, gadsbudlikins! and so our Wife
<em>Joan</em> shall know: For between you and I, 'tis she has put
me upon going to Court. Sir, she has been so praud,
so saucy, so rampant, ever since I brought her home a
lac'd Pinner, and a pink-colour'd pair of Shoe-strings,
from <em>Tickledowne</em> Fair, the Parson o'th' Parish can't rule
her; and that you'll say's much. But so much for
that. Naw I thank you for your good Counsel, honest little
Gentleman; and to shew you that I'se not ungrateful&mdash;give
me your Hond once more&mdash;&mdash;If you'll take the
pains but to walk dawne to our Towne&mdash;a Word in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
your Ear&mdash;&mdash;I'se send you so drunk whome again, you
shall remember friendly <em>Roger</em> as long as you have Breath
in your Body.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Roger</span></em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Esop. <span class="antiqua">solus</span>.</em>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Farewel, what I both envy and despise!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thy Happiness and Ignorance provoke me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How noble were the thing call'd Knowledge,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Did it but lead us to a Bliss like thine!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But there's a secret Curse in Wisdom's Train,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which on its Pleasures stamps perpetual Pain,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And makes the wise Man Loser by his Gain.  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-260.jpg" width="700" height="45" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_III4" id="ACT_III4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ho</span> waits there?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Enter Servant.</em></p>

<p>If there be any body that has Business with
me, let 'em in.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Yes, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Serv.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Quaint</span>, who stands at a distance, making a great
many fawning Bows.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, Friend, who are you?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> My Name's <em>Quaint</em>, Sir, the profoundest of
all your Honour's humble Servants.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And what may your Business be with me, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> My Business, Sir, with every Man, is first of
all to do him Service.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And your next is, I suppose, to be paid for't
twice as much as 'tis worth.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Your Honour's most obedient humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, Sir, but upon what Account am I going
to be oblig'd to you?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Sir, I'm a Genealogist.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A Genealogist!</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> At your Service, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> So, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Sir, I am inform'd from common Fame, as
well as from some little private familiar Intelligence,
that your Wisdom is ent'ring into Treaty with the <em>Primum
Mobilè</em> of Good and Evil, a fine Lady. I have travell'd,
Sir; I have read, Sir; I have consider'd, Sir;
and I find, Sir, that the Nature of a fine Lady is to be&mdash;&mdash;a
fine Lady, Sir; a fine Lady's a fine Lady, Sir,
all the World over;&mdash;&mdash;she loves a fine House, fine
Furniture, fine Clothes, fine Liveries, fine Petticoats,
fine Smocks; and if she stops there&mdash;she's a fine Lady
indeed, Sir. But to come to my Point. It being the
<em>Lydian</em> Custom, that the fair Bride should be presented
on her Wedding-day with something that may signify
the Merit and the Worth of her dread Lord and Master,
I thought the noble <em>Esop</em>'s Pedigree might be the
welcom'st Gift that he could offer. If his Honour be
of the same Opinion&mdash;I'll speak a bold Word&mdash;there's
ne'er a Herald in all <em>Asia</em> shall put better Blood in his
Veins, than&mdash;Sir, your humble Servant, <em>Jacob Quaint</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Dost thou then know my Father, Friend? For
I protest to thee I am a Stranger to him.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Your Father, Sir? Ha, ha! I know every
Man's Father, Sir; and every Man's Grandfather, and
every Man's Great Grandfather. Why, Sir, I'm a
Herald by Nature, my Mother was a <em>Welchwoman</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A <em>Welchwoman</em>? Pr'ythee of what Country is
that?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> That, Sir, is a Country in the World's
Backside, where every Man is born a Gentleman and a
Genealogist. Sir, I cou'd tell my Mother's Pedigree
before I could speak plain; which, to shew you the
Depth of my Art, and the Strength of my Memory,
I'll trundle you down in an instant. <em>Noah</em> had three
Sons, <em>Shem</em>, <em>Ham</em>, and <em>Japhet</em>; <em>Shem</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Hold, I conjure thee, in the Name of all thy
Ancestors.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Sir, I cou'd take it higher, but I begin at
Noah for brevity's sake.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No more on't, I intreat thee.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Your Honour's impatient, perhaps, to hear
your own Descent. <em>A Word to the wise is enough.</em> Hem,
hem! <em>Solomon</em>, the wise King of <em>Judea</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Hold, once more!</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Ha, ha! Your Honour's modest, but&mdash;&mdash;<em>Solomon</em>,
the wise King of <em>Judea</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Was my Ancestor, was he not?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> He was, my Lord, which no one sure can
doubt, who observes how much of Prince there hangs
about you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What! Is't in my Mien?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> You have something&mdash;&mdash;wondrous noble in
your Air.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Personable too; view me well.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> N&mdash;&mdash;not Tall; but Majestick.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> My Shape?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> A World of Symmetry in it.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The Lump upon my Back?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> N&mdash;&mdash;not regular; but agreeable.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Now by my Honesty thou art a Villain, Herald.
But Flattery's a Thrust I never fail to parry.
'Tis a Pass thou should'st reserve for young Fencers;
with Feints like those they're to be hit: I do not
doubt but thou hast found it so; hast not?</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> I must confess, Sir, I have sometimes made
'em bleed by't. But I hope your Honour will please to
excuse me, since, to speak the Truth, I get my Bread
by't, and maintain my Wife and Children: And Industry,
you know, Sir, is a commendable Thing. Besides,
Sir, I have debated the Business a little with my
Conscience; for I'm like the rest of my Neighbours,
I'd willingly get Money, and be sav'd too, if the
Thing may be done upon any reasonable Terms: And
so, Sir, I say, to quiet my Conscience, I have found
out at last, that Flattery is a Duty.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A Duty!</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Ay, Sir, a Duty: For the Duty of all Men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
is to make one another pass their time as pleasantly as
they can. Now, Sir, here's a young Lord, who has a
great deal of Land, a great deal of Title, a great deal of
Meat, a great deal of Noise, a great many Servants, and
a great many Diseases. I find him very dull, very restless,
tir'd with Ease, cloy'd with Plenty, a Burden to
himself, and a Plague to his Family. I begin to flatter:
He springs off of the Couch; turns himself round in the
Glass; finds all I say true; cuts a Caper a yard high;
his Blood trickles round his Veins; his Heart's as light
as his Heels; and before I leave him&mdash;&mdash;his Purse is as
empty as his Head. So we both are content; for we
part much happier than we met.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Admirable Rogue! What dost thou think of
Murder and of Rape, are not they Duties too? Wert
not for such vile fawning Things as thou art, young Nobles
wou'd not long be what they are: They'd grow
asham'd of Luxury and Ease, and rouse up the old Spirit
of their Fathers; leave the pursuit of a poor frightned
Hare, and make their Foes to tremble in their stead; furnish
their Heads with Sciences and Arts, and fill their
Hearts with Honour, Truth and Friendship; Be generous
to some, and just to all; drive home their Creditors
with Bags of Gold, instead of chasing 'em away with
Swords and Staves; be faithful to their King and Country
both, and stab the Offerer of a Bribe from either;
blush even at a wandering Thought of Vice, and boldly
own they durst be Friends to Virtue; trembling at nothing
but the Frowns of Heaven, and be no more asham'd
of Him that made 'em.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] If I stand to hear this Crump preach
a little longer, I shall be Fool enough perhaps to be
bubbled out of my Livelyhood, and so lose a Bird in the
Hand for two in the Bush. Sir, since I have not been
able to bring you to a good Opinion of yourself, 'tis very
probable I shall scarce prevail with you to have one of
me. But if you please to do me the favour to forget me,
I shall ever acknowledge myself&mdash;&mdash;Sir, your most
obedient, faithful, humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Hold; if I let thee go, and give thee nothing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
thou'lt be apt to grumble at me; and therefore&mdash;&mdash;who
waits there?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I don't like his Looks, by Gad.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'll present thee with a Token of my Love.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> A&mdash;another time, Sir, will do as well.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No; I love to be out of Debt, tho' 'tis being
out of the Fashion. So, d'ye hear! Give this honest
Gentleman half a score good Strokes on the Back with a
Cudgel.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> By no means in the World, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Indeed, Sir, you shall take 'em.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Sir, I don't merit half your Bounty.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> O 'tis but a Trifle!</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Your Generosity makes me blush.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking about to make his Escape.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> That's your Modesty, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Quaint.</em> Sir, you are pleased to compliment. But
a&mdash;&mdash;twenty Pedigrees for a clear Coast.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Running off, the Servant after him.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Wait upon him down Stairs, Fellow; I'd do't
myself, were I but nimble enough; but he makes haste,
to avoid Ceremony.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, here's a Lady in great haste, desires to speak
with you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Let her come in.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Aminta</span>, weeping.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> O Sir, if you don't help me, I'm undone.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What, what's the Matter, Lady?</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> My Daughter, Sir, my Daughter's run away
with a filthy Fellow.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A slippery Trick indeed!</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> For Heaven's sake, Sir, send immediately to
pursue 'em, and seize 'em. But 'tis in vain, 'twill be too
late, 'twill be too late; I'll warrant at this very Moment
they are got together in a Room with a Couch in't; all's
gone, all's gone; tho' 'twere made of Gold, 'tis lost:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
Oh! my Honour, my Honour. A forward Girl she was
always; I saw it in her Eyes the very Day of her Birth.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> That indeed was early; but how do you know
she's gone with a Fellow?</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> I have e'en her own insolent Hand-writing
for't: Sir, take but the pains to read what a Letter she
has left me.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Reads.</p>

<div class="hangindent">

<p><em>I love and am belov'd, and that's the Reason I run
away.</em></p></div>

<p>Short, but significant!&mdash;--<em>I'm sure there's no Body
knows better than your Ladyship what Allowances are to be
made to Flesh and Blood; I therefore hope this from your
Justice, that what you have done three Times yourself,
you'll pardon once in your Daughter.</em> <em>The Dickens!</em></p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> Now, Sir, what do you think of the Business?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why truly, Lady, I think it one of the most
natural Businesses I have met with a great while. I'll
tell you a Story.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A Crab-fish once her Daughter told,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(In Terms that savour'd much of Scold)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She cou'd not bear to see her go</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Sidle, sidle, to and fro:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Devil's in the Wench, quoth she,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When so much Money has been paid</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To polish you like me,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It makes me almost mad to see</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Y'are still so awkward, an ungainly Jade.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Her Daughter smil'd, and look'd a-skew;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She answer'd (for to give her her due)</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Pertly, as most Folks Daughters do:</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Madam, your Ladyship, quoth she,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Is pleas'd to blame in me</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What, on Enquiry, you may find,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Admits a passable Excuse,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>From a Proverb much in use,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em><span class="antiqua">That Cat will after kind</span>.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Amin.</em> Sir, I took you to be a Man better bred, than
to liken a Lady to a Crab-fish.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What I want in Good-breeding, Lady, I have
in Truth and Honesty: As what you have wanted in
Virtue, you have had in a good Face.</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> Have had, Sir! What I have had, I have still;
and shall have a great while, I hope. I'm no Grandmother,
Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But in a fair way for't, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> Thanks to my Daughter's Forwardness then,
not my Years. I'd have you to know, Sir, I have never
a Wrinkle in my Face. A young pert Slut! Who'd
think she shou'd know so much at her Age?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Good Masters make quick Scholars, Lady; she
has learn'd her Exercise from you.</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> But where's the Remedy, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> In trying if a good Example will reclaim her,
as an ill one has debauch'd her. Live private, and avoid
Scandal.</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> Never speak it; I can no more retire, than I
can go to Church twice on a Sunday.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What, your youthful Blood boils in your Veins,
I'll warrant?</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> I have Warmth enough to endure the Air, old
Gentleman. I need not shut myself up in a House these
twenty Years.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] She takes a long Lease of Lewdness:
She'll be an admirable Tenant to Lust.</p>

<p><em>Amin.</em> [<em>Walking hastily to and fro.</em>] People think when
a Woman is turn'd Forty, she's old enough to turn out
of the World: But I say, when a Woman is turn'd Forty,
she's old enough to have more Wit. The most can
be said is, her Face is the worse for wearing: I'll answer
for all the rest of her Fabrick. The Men wou'd be to
be pity'd, by my troth, wou'd they, if we shou'd quit
the Stage, and leave 'em nothing but a parcel of young
pert Sluts, that neither know how to speak Sense, nor
keep themselves clean. But, don't let 'em fear, we a'n't
going yet&mdash;&mdash;[<em><span class="antiqua">Esop</span> stares upon her, and as she turns from
him, runs off the Stage.</em>] How now! What left alone!
An unmannerly Piece of Deformity! Methinks he might
have had Sense enough to have made Love to me. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
I have found Men strangely dull for the last ten or twelve
Years: Sure they'll mend in Time, or the World won't
be worth living in.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>For let Philosophers say all they can,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Source of Women's Joys is plac'd in Man.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Exit.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> and <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>, <span class="antiqua">Doris</span> following at
a Distance.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> [<em>To Euph.</em>] I must tell you, Mistress, I'm too mild
with you; Parents shou'd never intreat their Children,
nor will I hereafter. Therefore, in a Word, let <em>Esop</em>
be lov'd, let <em>Oronces</em> be hated; let one be a Peacock,
let t'other be a Bat: I'm Father, you are Daughter;
I command, and you shall obey.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> I never yet did otherwise; nor shall I now,
Sir; but pray let Reason guide you.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> So it does: But 'tis my own, not yours, Hussy.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Ah&mdash;Well, I'll say no more; but were I in her
Place, by the Mass, I'd have a tug for't.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Dæmon, born to distract me! Whence art
thou, in the Name of Fire and Brimstone? Have I not
satisfy'd thee? Have I not paid thee what's thy due?
And have not I turn'd thee out of Doors, with Orders
never more to stride my Threshold, ha? Answer, abominable
Spirit; what is't that makes thee haunt me?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> A foolish Passion to do you good, in spite of
your Teeth: Pox on me for my Zeal, I say.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> And Pox on thee, and thy Zeal too, I say.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Now if it were not for her Sake more than for
yours, I'd leave all to your own Management, to be reveng'd
of you. But rather than I'll see that sweet
Thing sacrificed&mdash;I'll play the Devil in your House.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Patience, I summon thee to my Aid.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Passion, I defy thee; to the last Drop of my
Blood I'll maintain my Ground. What have you to
charge me with? Speak! I love your Child better than
you do, and you can't bear that, ha? Is't not so? Nay,
'tis well y'are asham'd on't; there's some Sign of Grace
still. Look you, Sir, in a few Words, you'll make me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
mad; and 'twere enough to make any Body mad (who
has Brains enough to be so) to see so much Virtue
shipwreck'd at the very Port. The World never saw a
Virgin better qualify'd; so witty, so discreet, so modest,
so chaste: in a Word, I brought her up myself,
and 'twould be the Death of me to see so virtuous a
Maid become a lewd Wife; which is the usual Effect
of Parents Pride and Covetousness.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> How, Strumpet! wou'd any Thing be able to
debauch my Daughter?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Your Daughter! Yes, your Daughter, and myself
into the Bargain: A Woman's but a Woman; and
I'll lay a hundred Pound on Nature's side. Come, Sir,
few Words dispatch Business. Let who will be the
Wife of <em>Esop</em>, she's a Fool, or he's a Cuckold. But
you'll never have a true Notion of this Matter, till
you suppose yourself in your Daughter's Place. As
thus: You are a pretty, soft, warm, wishing young Lady:
I'm a straight, proper, handsome, vigorous, young
Fellow. You have a peevish, positive, covetous, old
Father, and he forces you to marry a little, lean, crooked,
dry, sapless Husband. This Husband's gone abroad,
you are left at home. I make you a Visit; find
you all alone: the Servant pulls to the Door; the Devil
comes in at the Window. I begin to wheedle, you
begin to melt: you like my Person, and therefore believe
all I say: so first I make you an Atheist, and then
I make you a Whore. Thus the World goes, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Pernicious Pestilence! Has not thy eternal
Tongue run down its Larum yet?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Then go out of my House, Abomination.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I'll not stir a Foot.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Who waits there? Bring me my great Stick.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Bring you a Stick! Bring you a Head-piece:
That you'd call for, if you knew your own wants.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Death and Furies, the Devil and so forth! I
shall run distracted.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Pray, Sir, don't be so angry at her. I'm sure
she means well, tho' she may have an odd way of expressing
herself.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> What, you like her meaning? Who doubts it,
Offspring of <em>Venus</em>? But I'll make you stay your Stomach
with Meat of my chusing, you liquorish young
Baggage you. In a Word, <em>Esop</em>'s the Man; and to-morrow
he shall be your Lord and Master. But since
he can't be satisfied unless he has your Heart, as well
as all the rest of your Trumpery, let me see you receive
him in such a Manner that he may think himself your
Choice as well as mine; 'twill make him esteem your
Judgment: For we usually guess at other People's Understandings,
by their approving our Actions and liking
our Faces. See here, the great Man comes! [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Dor</span>.</em>]
Follow me, Insolence; and leave 'em to express their
Passion to each other. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>.</em>] Remember my last
Word to you is, Obey.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Euph.</span> aside.</em>] And remember my last Advice
to you is, Rebel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lear.</span> <span class="antiqua">Dor.</span> following him.</em></p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Alas, I'm good-natured; the last Thing that's
said to me usually leaves the deepest Impression.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>; they stand some Time without speaking.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em>&mdash;They say, That Lovers, for want of Words,
have Eyes to speak with. I'm afraid you do not understand
the Language of mine, since yours, I find, will
make no Answer to 'em. But I must tell you, Lady,
there is a numerous Train of youthful Virgins, that are
endow'd with Wealth and Beauty too, who yet have
thought it worth their Pains and Care to point their
Darts at <em>Esop</em>'s homely Breast; whilst you so much contemn
what they pursue, that a young senseless Fop's
preferr'd before me.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Did you but know that Fop you dare to term
so, his very Looks wou'd fright you into nothing.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A very Bauble.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> How!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A Butterfly.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> I can't bear it.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A Parroquet can prattle and look gaudy.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> It may be so; but let me paint him and you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
in your proper Colours, I'll do it exactly, and you shall
judge which I ought to chuse.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No, hold; I'm naturally not over-curious; besides,
'tis Pride makes People have their Pictures drawn.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Upon my Word, Sir, you may have yours taken
a hundred times before any Body will believe 'tis
done upon that Account.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How severe she is upon me! You are
resolv'd then to persist, and be fond of your Feather;
sigh for a Perriwig, and die for a Cravat string.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Methinks, Sir, you might treat with more respect
what I've thought fit to own I value; your Affronts
to him are doubly such to me; if you continue
your provoking Language, you must expect my Tongue
will sally too; and if you are as wise as some would
make you, you can't but know I shou'd have Theme
enough.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But is it possible you can love so much as you
pretend?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why do you question it?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Because Nobody loves so much as they pretend:
But hark you, young Lady: Marriage is to last a long,
long Time; and where one Couple bless the sacred
Knot, a Train of Wretches curse the Institution. You
are in an Age where Hearts are young and tender; a
pleasing Object gets Admittance soon. But since to
Marriage there's annexed this dreadful Word, <em>For ever</em>,
the following Example ought to move you:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A Peacock once, of splendid show,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Gay, gaudy, foppish, vain&mdash;&mdash;a Beau,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Attack'd a fond young Pheasant's Heart</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With such Success,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He pleas'd her, tho' he made her smart;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He pierc'd her with so much Address,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She smil'd the Moment that he fixt his Dart.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>A Cuckow in a neighbouring Tree,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Rich, honest, ugly, old&mdash;&mdash;like me,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Lov'd her as he lov'd his Life:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No pamper'd Priest e'er study'd more</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make a virtuous Nun a Whore,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Than he to get her for his Wife:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But all his Offers still were vain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>His Limbs were weak, his Face was plain;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Beauty, Youth, and Vigour weigh'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With the warm desiring Maid:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No Bird, she cry'd, wou'd serve her turn,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But what cou'd quench as well as burn;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She'd have a young Gallant: so one she had.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But 'ere a Month was come and gone,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Bride began to change her tone,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She found a young Gallant was an inconstant one.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She wander'd to a neighbouring Grove,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where after musing long on Love,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She told her Confidant, she found,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When for one's Life one must be bound,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(Tho' Youth indeed was a delicious Bait)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>An aged Husband, rich, tho' plain,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wou'd give a slavish Wife less Pain;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And, what was more, was sooner slain,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which was a Thing of Weight.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Behold, young Lady, here, the Cuckow of the Fable;
I'm deform'd, 'tis true, yet I have found the Means to
make a Figure amongst Men, that well has recompens'd
the Wrongs of Nature; my Rival's Beauty promises
you much; perhaps my homely Form might yield you
more; at least, consider on't, 'tis worth your Thought.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Euph.</em> I must confess, my Fortune wou'd be greater;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But what's a Fortune to a Heart like mine?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis true, I'm but a young Philosopher,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet in that little Space my Glass has run,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've spent some Time in search of Happiness:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fond Pursuit I soon observ'd of Riches,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Inclin'd me to enquire into their Worth:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I found their Value was not in themselves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But in their Power to grant what we cou'd ask.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I then proceeded to my own Desires,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To know what State of Life wou'd suit with them:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I found 'em moderate in their Demands,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
<span class="i0">They neither ask'd for Title, State, or Power:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They slighted the aspiring Post of Envy:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis true, they trembled at the Name Contempt;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A general Esteem was all they wish'd;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And that I did not doubt might be obtain'd,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If furnish'd but with Virtue and Good-nature;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My Fortune prov'd sufficient to afford me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Conveniences of Life, and Independence.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This, Sir, was the Result of my Enquiry;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And by this Scheme of Happiness I build,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When I prefer the Man I love to you.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How wise, how witty, and how cleanly, young
Women grow, as soon as ever they are in love!</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> How foppish, how impertinent, and how nauseous
are old Men, when they pretend to be so too!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How pert is Youth!</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> How dull is Age!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why so sharp, young Lady?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why so blunt, old Gentleman?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis enough; I'll to your Father, I know how
to deal with him, though I don't know how to deal with
you. Before to-morrow Noon, Damsel, Wife shall be
written on your Brow.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Then before to-morrow Night, Statesman,
Husband shall be stampt upon your Forehead.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-272.jpg" width="700" height="40" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_IV4" id="ACT_IV4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span> and <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">P</span>atience</span>, I beseech you.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Patience! What, and see that lovely
Creature thrown into the Arms of that pedantick Monster!
'Sdeath, I'd rather see the World reduc'd to
A'toms, Mankind turn'd into Crawfish, and myself an
old Woman.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> So you think an old Woman a very unfortunate
thing, I find; but you are mistaken, Sir; she may
plague other Folks, but she's as entertaining to herself,
as any one Part of the Creation.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> [<em>Walking to and fro.</em>] She's the Devil&mdash;&mdash;and
I'm one of the damn'd, I think. But I'll make somebody
howl for't; I will so.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> You'll e'en do as all the young Fellows in the
Town do, spoil your own Sport: Ah&mdash;&mdash;had young
Mens Shoulders but old Courtiers Heads upon 'em, what
a delicious Time wou'd they have on't! For shame, be
wise; for your Mistress's sake at least use some Caution.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> For her sake I'll respect, even like a Deity, her
Father. He shall strike me, he shall tread upon me,
and find me humbler even than a crawling Worm, for
I'll not turn again; but for <em>Esop</em>, that unfinish'd Lump,
that Chaos of Humanity, I'll use him&mdash;&mdash;nay, expect
it, for I'll do it&mdash;&mdash;the first Moment that I'll
see him, I'll&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Not challenge him, I hope&mdash;&mdash;'Twould be
a pretty sight, truly, to see <em>Esop</em> drawn up in Battalia!
Fye for shame, be wise once in your Life; think of gaining
Time, by putting off the Marriage for a Day or two,
and not of waging War with a Pigmy. Yonder's the
old Gentleman walking by himself in the Gallery; go
and wheedle him, you know his weak side; he's good-natur'd
in the bottom. Stir up his old fatherly Bowels
a little, I'll warrant you'll move him at last: go, get
you gone, and play your Part discreetly.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Well, I'll try; but if Words won't do with
one, Blows shall with t'other; by Heavens, they shall.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit. <span class="antiqua">Oron</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Doris <span class="antiqua">sola</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Nay, I reckon we shall have rare work on't bye and
bye. Shield us, kind Heaven! what Things are Men
in love? Now they are Stocks and Stones; then they
are Fire and Quick-silver; first whining and crying,
then swearing and damning: This Moment they are
in Love, and next Moment they are out of Love: Ah&mdash;cou'd
we but live without 'em&mdash;but 'tis in vain to think
on't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span> at one side of the Stage, Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Forge-will</span>
at t'other.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> Sir, I'm your most devoted Servant! What I
say is no Compliment, I do assure you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Madam, as far as you are really mine, I believe
I may venture to assure you, I am yours.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> I suppose, Sir, you know that I'm a Widow.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Madam, I don't so much as know you are a
Woman.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> O surprizing! Why, I thought the whole Town
had known it. Sir, I have been a Widow this Twelvemonth.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If a Body may guess at your Heart by your
Petticoat, Lady, you don't design to be so a Twelvemonth
more.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> O bless me! Not a Twelvemonth! Why, my
Husband has left me four squalling Brats. Besides, Sir,
I'm undone.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You seem as chearful an undone Lady as I have
met with.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> Alas, Sir, I have too great a Spirit ever to let
Afflictions spoil my Face. Sir, I'll tell you my Condition;
and that will lead me to my Business with you.
Sir, my Husband was a Scriviner.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The deuce he was: I thought he had been a
Count, at least.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> Sir, it is not the first Time I have been taken
for a Countess; my Mother us'd to say, as I lay in my
Cradle, I had the Air of a Woman of Quality; and
truly I have always liv'd like such. My Husband, indeed,
had something sneaking in him (as most Husbands
have, you know, Sir); but, from the Moment I
set Foot in his House, bless me, what a Change was
there! His Pewter was turn'd into Silver, his Goloshoes
into a Glass Coach, and his little travelling Mare into
a Pair of <em>Flanders</em> Horses. Instead of a greasy Cook-maid
to wait at Table, I had four tall Footmen in clean
Linen; all Things became new and fashionable, and
nothing look'd aukward in my Family. My Furniture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
was the Wonder of my Neighbourhood, and my Clothes
the Admiration of the whole Town; I had a Necklace
that was envy'd by the Queen, and a Pair of Pendants
that set a Dutchess a-crying. In a Word, I saw nothing
I lik'd but I bought it; and my Husband, good
Man, durst ne'er refuse paying for't. Thus I liv'd, and
I flourish'd, till he sicken'd and dy'd: but ere he was
cold in his Grave, his Creditors plunder'd my House.
But, what pity it was to see Fellows with dirty Shoes
come into my best Rooms, and touch my Hangings
with their filthy Fingers! You won't blame me, Sir, if,
with all my Courage, I weep at this sensible Part of my
Misfortune.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A very sad Story, truly!</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> But now, Sir, to my Business. Having been
inform'd this Morning, That the King has appointed a
great Sum of Money for the Marriage of young Women
who have liv'd well, and are fallen to decay, I am
come to acquaint you I have two strapping Daughters,
just fit for the Matter, and to desire you'll help 'em to
Portions out of the King's Bounty; that they mayn't
whine and pine, and be eaten up with the Green-sickness,
as half the young Women in the Town are, or
wou'd be, if there were not more Helps for the Disease
than one. This, Sir, is my Business.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And this, Madam, is my Answer:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>A crawling Toad, all speckled o'er,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Vain, gaudy, painted, patch'd&mdash;&mdash;a Whore,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Seeing a well-fed Ox hard by,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Regards him with an envious Eye,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And (as the Poets tell)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ye Gods, I cannot bear't, quoth she,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I'll burst, or be as big as he,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And so began to swell.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Her Friends and Kindred round her came,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They shew'd her she was much to blame,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Thing was out of reach.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She told 'em they were busy Folk,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And when her Husband wou'd have spoke,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She bid him kiss her Br&mdash;&mdash;.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With that they all e'en gave her o'er,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And she persisted as before,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Till with a deal of Strife</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She swell'd at last so much her Spleen,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She burst like one that we have seen,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Who was a Scrivener's Wife.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>This, Widow, I take to be your Case, and that of a
great many others; for this is an Age where most People
get Falls, by clambering too high, to reach at what
they should not do. The Shoemaker's Wife reduces her
Husband to a Cobler, by endeavouring to be as spruce
as the Taylor's: The Taylor's brings hers to a Botcher,
by going as fine as the Mercer's: The Mercer's lowers
hers to a Foreman, by perking up to the Merchant's:
The Merchant's wears hers to a Broker, by strutting up
to Quality: And Quality bring theirs to nothing, by
striving to out-do one another. If Women were humbler,
Men wou'd be honester. Pride brings Want,
Want makes Rogues, Rogues come to be hang'd, and
the Devil alone's the Gainer. Go your ways home,
Woman; and as your Husband maintain'd you by his
Pen, maintain yourself by your Needle; put your great
Girls to service, Imployment will keep them honest;
much Work and plain Diet will cure the Green-Sickness
as well as a Husband&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> Why, you pityful Pigmy; preaching, canting,
Pickthank; you little, sorry, crooked, dry, wither'd
Eunuch, do you know that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I know that I'm so deform'd you han't Wit
enough to describe me: But I have this good Quality,
That a foolish Woman can never make me angry.</p>

<p><em>Forg.</em> Can't she so? I'll try that, I will.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She falls
upon him, holds his Hands, and boxes his Ears.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Help, help, help.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servants. She runs off, they after her.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Nay, e'en let her go&mdash;&mdash;let her go&mdash;&mdash;don't
bring her back again&mdash;&mdash;I'm for making a Bridge of
Gold for my Enemy to retreat upon&mdash;&mdash;I'm quite out of
Breath&mdash;&mdash;A terrible Woman, I protest.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Country Gentleman drunk, in a hunting Dress,
with a Huntsman, Groom, Falconer, and other Servants;
one leading a couple of Hounds, another Grey-Hounds,
a third a Spaniel, a fourth a Gun upon his
Shoulder, the Falconer a Hawk upon his Fist, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span></em>
</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Haux, haux, haux, haux, haux! Joular, there
Boy, Joular, Joular, Tinker, Pedlar, Miss, Miss, Miss,
Miss, Miss&mdash;Blood and Oons&mdash;O there he is; that
must be he, I have seen his Picture [<em>Reeling upon</em> Esop].&mdash;Sir,&mdash;if
your Name's <em>Esop</em>&mdash;I'm your humble
Servant.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Sir, my Name is <em>Esop</em>, at your Service.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why then, Sir&mdash;Compliments being past on
both sides, with your leave&mdash;we'll proceed to Business.
Sir, I'm by Profession&mdash;a Gentleman of&mdash;three
thousand Pounds a Year&mdash;Sir, I keep a good
Pack of Hounds, a good Stable of Horses. [<em>To his
Groom.</em>] How many Horses have I, Sirrah?&mdash;Sir, this
is my Groom.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Presenting him to <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Groom.</em> Your Worship has six Coach-horses, (Cut and
Long-Tail) two Runners, half a dozen Hunters, four
breeding Mares, and two blind Stallions, besides Pads,
Routs, and Dog-Horses.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Look you there, Sir, I scorn to tell a Lye.
He that questions my Honour&mdash;he's a Son of a
Whore. But to Business&mdash;Having heard, Sir, that
you were come to this Town, I have taken the Pains to
come hither too, tho' I had a great deal of Business upon
my Hands, for I have appointed three <em>Justices of the
Peace</em> to hunt with 'em this Morning&mdash;&mdash;and be
drunk with 'em in the Afternoon. But the main Chance
must be look'd to&mdash;and that's this&mdash;&mdash;I desire, Sir,
you'll tell the King from me&mdash;I don't like these Taxes&mdash;in
one Word, as well as in twenty&mdash;I don't like
these Taxes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray, Sir, how high may you be tax'd?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> How high may I be tax'd, Sir! Why I may be
tax'd, Sir&mdash;four Shillings in the Pound, Sir; one half
I pay in Money&mdash;and t'other half I pay in Perjury, Sir:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
Hey, Joular, Joular, Joular. Haux, haux, haux, haux,
haux. Hoo, hoo&mdash;&mdash;Here's the best Hound-bitch in
<em>Europe</em>&mdash;&mdash;Oons is she. And I had rather kiss her than
kiss my Wife&mdash;&mdash;Rot me if I had not&mdash;&mdash;But, Sir, I
don't like these Taxes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why how wou'd you have the War carry'd on?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> War carried on, Sir!&mdash;--Why, I had rather
have no War carried on at all, Sir, than pay Taxes.
I don't desire to be ruin'd, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why you say, you have three thousand Pounds
a Year.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> And so I have, Sir&mdash;&mdash;<em>Lett-Acre!</em>&mdash;&mdash;Sir, this
is my Steward. How much Land have I, <em>Lett-Acre</em>?</p>

<p><em>Lett-Acre.</em> Your Worship has three thausand Paunds
a Year, as good Lond as any's i'th' Caunty; and two
thausand Paunds worth of Wood to cut dawne at your
Worship's Pleasure, and put the Money in your Pocket.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Look you there, Sir, what have you to say to
that?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I have to say, Sir, that you may pay your Taxes
in Money, instead of Perjury, and still have a better Revenue
than I'm afraid you deserve. What Service do
you do your King, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> None at all, Sir&mdash;I'm above it.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What Service may you do your Country, pray?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I'm Justice of the Peace&mdash;&mdash;and Captain of
the Militia.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Of what use are you to your Kindred?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I'm the Head of the Family, and have all the
Estate.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What Good do you do your Neighbours?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I give them their Bellies full of Beef every time
they come to see me; and make 'em so drunk, they spew
it up again before they go away.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you use your Tenants?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, I skrew up their Rents till they break
and run away, and if I catch 'em again, I let 'em rot
in a Gaol.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you treat your Wife?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I treat her all Day with Ill-nature and Tobacco,
and all Night with snoring and a dirty Shirt.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you breed your Children?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I breed my eldest Son&mdash;&mdash;a Fool; my youngest
breed themselves, and my Daughters&mdash;&mdash;have no
Breeding at all.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis very well, Sir; I shall be sure to speak to
the King of you; or if you think fit to remonstrate to
him, by way of Petition or Address, how reasonable it
may be to let Men of your Importance go Scot-free, in
the Time of a necessary War, I'll deliver it in Council,
and speak to it as I ought.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, Sir, I don't disapprove your Advice,
but my Clerk is not here, and I can't spell well.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You may get it writ at your leisure, and send
it me. But because you are not much used to draw up
Addresses, perhaps; I'll tell you in general what kind
of one this ought to be.</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<p><em>May it please your Majesty</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>To the Gent.</em>] You'll excuse me, if I don't know your
Name and Title.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sir <em>Polydorus Hogstye</em>, of <em>Beast-Hall</em> in <em>Swine-County</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>May it please your Majesty; <span class="antiqua">Polydorus Hogstye</span>, of
<span class="antiqua">Beast-hall</span> in <span class="antiqua">Swine-County</span>, most humbly represents, That
he hates to pay Taxes, the dreadful Consequences of 'em being
inevitably these, That he must retrench two Dishes in
ten, where not above six of 'em are design'd for Gluttony.</em></p>

<p><em>Four Bottles out of twenty; where not above fifteen of
'em are for Drunkenness.</em></p>

<p><em>Six Horses out of thirty; of which not above twenty
are kept for State.</em></p>

<p><em>And four Servants out of a Score; where one half do
nothing but make Work for t'other.</em></p>

<p><em>To this deplorable Condition must your important Subject
be reduc'd, or forc'd to cut down his Timber, which he
wou'd willingly persevere against an ill run at Dice.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>

<p><em>And as to the Necessity of the War for the Security of the
Kingdom, he neither knows nor cares whether it be necessary
or not.</em></p>

<p><em>He concludes with his Prayers for your Majesty's Life,
upon Condition you will protect him and his Fox Hounds at
Beast-Hall, without e'er a Penny of Money.</em></p>

<p><em>To the Gent.</em>] This, Sir, I suppose, is much what you
wou'd be at.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Exactly, Sir; I'll be sure to have one drawn up
to the self-same purpose: and next Fox-Hunting I'll
engage half the Company shall set their Hands to't.
Sir, I am your&mdash;&mdash;most devoted Servant; and if you
please to let me see you at <em>Beast-Hall</em>, here's my Huntsman,
<em>Houndsfoot</em>, will shew you a Fox shall lead you
through so many Hedges and Briars, you shall have no
more Clothes on your Back in half an Hour's Time&mdash;than
you had&mdash;&mdash;in the Womb of your Mother. Haux,
haux, haux, &amp;c.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit shouting.</em></p>

<p>Esop. <em>O Tempora, O Mores!</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Fruitful</span> and his Wife.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit.</em> Heavens preserve the noble <em>Esop</em>, grant
him long Life and happy Days.</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> And send him a fruitful Wife, with a
hopeful Issue!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And what is it I'm to do for you, good People,
to make you amends for all these friendly Wishes?</p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit.</em> Sir, here's myself and my Wife&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> Sir, here's I and my Husband&mdash;[<em>To her
Husband.</em>] Let me speak in my turn, Goodman <em>Forward</em>.
[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] Sir, here's I and my Husband, I say,
think we have as good Pretensions to the King's Favour
as ever a Lord in the Land.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If you have no better than some Lords in the
Land, I hope you won't expect much for your Service.</p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit.</em> An't please you, you shall be Judge yourself.</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> That's as he gives Sentence, Mr. <em>Littlewit</em>;
who gave you Power to come to a Reference? If
he does not do us right, the King himself shall; what's
to be done here! [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] Sir, I'm forc'd to correct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
my Husband a little; poor Man, he is not us'd to Court-Business;
but to give him his due, he's ready enough
at some Things: Sir, I have had twenty fine Children
by him; fifteen of 'em are alive, and alive like to be;
five tall Daughters are wedded and bedded, and ten
proper Sons serve their King and their Country.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A goodly Company, upon my Word!</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> Would all Men take as much Pains for
the peopling of the Kingdom, we might tuck up our
Aprons, and cry, A Fig for our Enemies; but we have
such a Parcel of Drones amongst us&mdash;&mdash;Hold up your
Head, Husband&mdash;&mdash;He's a little out of Countenance,
Sir, because I chid him; but the Man is a very good
Man at the Bottom. But to come to my Business, Sir,
I hope his Majesty will think it reasonable to allow me
something for the Service I have done him; 'tis pity but
Labour shou'd be encourag'd, especially when what one
has done, one has done't with a Good-will.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What Profession are you of, good People?</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> My Husband's an Inn-keeper, Sir; he
bears the Name, but I govern the House.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And what Posts are your Sons in, in the Service?</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em>. Sir, there are four Monks.</p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit.</em> Three Attorneys.</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> Two Scriveners.</p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit.</em> And an Exciseman.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The deuce o'the Service; why, I thought they
had been all in the Army.</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> Not one, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No, so it seems, by my Troth: Ten Sons that
serve their Country, quotha! Monks, Attorneys, Scriveners
and Excisemen, serve their Country with a Vengeance:
you deserve to be rewarded, truly; you deserve
to be hang'd, you wicked People, you. Get you gone
out of my sight: I never was so angry in my Life.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Mr. Fruit. to his Wife.</em>] So; who's in the right now,
you or I? I told you what wou'd come on't; you must be
always a Breeding, and Breeding, and the King wou'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
take Care of 'em, and the Queen wou'd take Care of
'em: And always some Pretence or other there was.
But now we have got a great Kennel of Whelps, and
the Devil will take Care of 'em, for aught I see. For
your Sons are all Rogues, and your Daughters are all
Whores; you know they are.</p>

<p><em>Mrs. Fruit.</em> What, you are a grudging of your Pains
now, you lazy, sluggish, flegmatick Drone. You have
a Mind to die of a Lethargy, have you? but I'll raise
your Spirits for you, I will so. Get you gone home,
go; go home, you idle Sot, you; I'll raise your Spirits
for you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit, pushing him before her.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop. solus.</em>] Monks, Attorneys, Scriveners, and Excisemen!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> O here he is. Sir, I have been searching for
you, to say two Words to you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And now you have found me, Sir, what are
they?</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> They are, Sir&mdash;&mdash;that my Name's Oronces:
You comprehend me.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I comprehend your Name.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> And not my Business?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Not I, by my Troth.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Then I shall endeavour to teach it you, Monsieur
<em>Esop</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And I to learn it, Monsieur <em>Oronces</em>.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Know, Sir&mdash;&mdash;that I admire <em>Euphronia</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Know, Sir&mdash;&mdash;that you are in the right on't.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> But I pretend, Sir, that Nobody else shall admire
her.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Then I pretend, Sir, she won't admire you.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Why so, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Because, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> What, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> She's a Woman, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> What then, Sir?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, then, Sir, she desires to be admir'd by
every Man she meets.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Sir, you are too familiar.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Sir, you are too haughty; I must soften that
harsh Tone of yours: It don't become you, Sir; it
makes a Gentleman appear a Porter, Sir: And that
you may know the Use of good Language, I'll tell you
what once happen'd. <em>Once an a Time</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> I'll have none of your old Wives Fables, Sir,
I have no Time to lose; therefore, in a Word&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> In a Word, be mild: For nothing else will do
you Service. Good Manners and soft Words have
brought many a difficult Thing to pass. Therefore
hear me patiently.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>A Cook one Day, who had been drinking,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(Only as many Times, you know,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You spruce, young, witty Beaux will do,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To avoid the dreadful Pain of thinking)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Had Orders sent him to behead</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Goose, like any Chaplain fed.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He took such Pains to set his Knife right,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'T had done one good t'have lost one's Life by't.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But many Men have many Minds,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>There's various Tastes in various Kinds:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Swan (who by Mistake he seiz'd)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With wretched Life was better pleas'd:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For as he went to give the Blow,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In tuneful Notes she let him know,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She neither was a Goose, nor wish'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make her <span class="antiqua">Exit</span> so.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The Cook (who thought of nought but Blood,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Except it were the Grease,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For that you know's his Fees)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To hear her sing, in great Amazement stood.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Cod's fish! quoth he, 'twas well you spoke,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For I was just upon the Stroke:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your Feathers have so much of Goose,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A drunken Cook cou'd do no less</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Than think you one: That you'll confess:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But y' have a Voice so soft, so sweet,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That rather than you shall be eat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The House shall starve for want of Meat:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And so he turn'd her loose.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>To <span class="antiqua">Oron</span>.</em>] Now, Sir, what say you? will you be the
Swan, or the Goose?</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Oron.</em> The Choice can't, sure, be difficult to make;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I hope you will excuse my youthful Heat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Young Men and Lovers have a Claim to Pardon:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But since the Faults of Age have no such Plea,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I hope you'll be more cautious of offending.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Flame that warms <em>Euphronia</em>'s Heart and mine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Has long, alas! been kindled in our Breasts:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Even Years are past since our two Souls were wed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Twou'd be Adultery but to wish to part 'em.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wou'd a Lump of Clay alone content you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A Mistress cold and senseless in your Arms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without the least Remains or Signs of Life,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Except her Sighs to mourn her absent Lover?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whilst you shou'd press her in your eager Arms,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With fond Desire and Extasy of Love,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wou'd it not pierce you to the very Soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To see her Tears run trickling down her Cheeks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And know their Fountain meant 'em all to me?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cou'd you bear this?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet thus the Gods revenge themselves on those<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who stop the happy Course of mutual Love.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If you must be unfortunate one way,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Choose that where Justice may support your Grief,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And shun the weighty Curse of injur'd Lovers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Esop.</em> Why, this is pleading like a Swan, indeed!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were any Thing at Stake but my <em>Euphronia</em>&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Oron.</em> Your <em>Euphronia</em>! Sir&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Esop.</em> The Goose&mdash;&mdash;take heed&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were any Thing, I say, at Stake but her,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your Plea wou'd be too strong to be refus'd.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But our Debate's about a Lady, Sir,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That's young, that's beautiful, that's made for Love.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">----So am not I, you'll say: But you're mistaken;<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
<span class="i0">I'm made to love, tho' not to be belov'd.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I have a Heart like yours; I've Folly too:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I've every Instrument of Love like others.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Oron.</em> But, Sir, you have not been so long a Lover;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your Passion's young and tender,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">'Tis easy for you to become its Master:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Whilst I shou'd strive in vain; mine's old and fixt.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The older 'tis, the easier to be govern'd;
Were mine of as long a standing, 'twere possible I might
get the better on't. Old Passions are like old Men;
weak, and soon jostled into the Kennel.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Yet Age sometimes is strong, even to the Verge
of Life.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Ah, but there our Comparison don't hold.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> You are too merry to be much in Love.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And you too sad to be so long.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> My grief may end my Days, so quench my
Flame, but nothing else can e'er extinguish it.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Don't be discourag'd, Sir, I have seen many a
Man outlive his Passion twenty Years.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> But I have sworn to die <em>Euphronia</em>'s Slave.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A decay'd Face always absolves a Lover's Oath.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Lovers whose Oaths are made to Faces, then;
But 'tis <em>Euphronia</em>'s Soul that I adore, which never can
decay.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I wou'd fain see a young Fellow in love with a
Soul of Threescore.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Oron.</em> Quit but <em>Euphronia</em> to me, and you shall;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At least if Heaven's Bounty will afford us<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But Years, enow to prove my Constancy,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And this is all I ask the Gods and you.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Oron</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Esop</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>A good Pretence, however, to beg long Life. How
grosly do the Inclinations of the Flesh impose upon the
Simplicity of the Spirit! Had this young Fellow but
study'd Anatomy, he'd have found the Source of his
Passion lay far from his Mistress's Soul. Alas! alas!
Had Women no more Charms in their Bodies, than what
they have in their Minds, we should see more wise Men
in the World, and much fewer Lovers and Poets.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-286.jpg" width="700" height="41" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_V4" id="ACT_V4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> and <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>eavens!</span> what is't you make me do, <em>Doris</em>?
Apply myself to the Man I loath; beg Favours
from him I hate; seek a Reprieve from him I abhor;
'tis low, 'tis mean, 'tis base in me.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Why, you hate the Devil as much as you do
<em>Esop</em>, or within a small Matter, and should you think it
a Scandal to pray him to let you alone a Day or two, if
he were going to run away with you; ha?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> I don't know what I think, nor what I say,
nor what I do: But sure thou'rt not my Friend thus to
advise me.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I advise! I advise nothing; e'en follow your
own way; marry him, and make much of him. I have
a mind to see some of his Breed; if you like it, I like
it: He shan't breed out of me only; that's all I have
to take Care of.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Pr'ythee don't distract me.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Why, to-morrow's the Day, fix'd and firm, you
know it; much Meat, little Order, great many Relations,
few Friends, Horse-play, Noise, and bawdy Stories;
all's ready for a complete Wedding.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Oh! what shall I do?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, I know this makes you tremble; and yet
your tender Conscience scruples to drop one hypocritical
Curtsy, and say, Pray, Mr. <em>Esop</em>, be so kind to
defer it a few Days longer.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Thou know'st I cannot dissemble.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I know you can dissemble well enough, when
you shou'd not do't. Do you remember how you us'd
to plague your poor <em>Oronces</em>; make him believe you
loath'd him, when you cou'd have kiss'd the Ground he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
went on; affront him in all publick Places; ridicule
him in all Company; abuse him wherever you went
And when you had reduc'd him within an Ace of hanging
or drowning, then come home with Tears in your
Eyes, and cry, Now, <em>Doris</em>, let's go lock ourselves up,
and talk of my dear <em>Oronces</em>: Is not this true?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Yes, yes, yes. But, pr'ythee, have some Compassion
of me. Come, I'll do any thing thou bid'st me&mdash;&mdash;What
shall I say to this Monster? Tell me, and
I'll obey thee.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, then there's some hopes of you. Why,
you must tell him&mdash;&mdash;'Tis natural to you to dislike
Folks at first sight: That since you have consider'd him
better, you find your Aversion abated: That tho' perhaps
it may be a hard Matter for you ever to think him
a Beau, you don't despair, in Time, of finding out his
<em>Je-ne-sçai-quoy</em>. And that on t'other side, tho' you
have hitherto thought (as most young Women do) that
nothing cou'd remove your first Affection, yet you have
very great Hopes in the natural Inconstancy of your
Sex. Tell him, 'tis not impossible, a Change may
happen, provided he gives you Time: But that if he
goes to force you, there's another Piece of Nature peculiar
to Women, which may chance to spoil all, and
that's Contradiction. Ring that Argument well in his
Ears: He's a Philosopher; he knows it has Weight in
it. In short, wheedle, whine, flatter, lye, weep,
spare nothing; 'tis a moist Age, Women have Tears
enow; and when you have melted him down, and
gain'd more Time, we'll employ it in Closet-debates,
how to cheat him to the end of the Chapter.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> But you don't consider, <em>Doris</em>, that by this
Means I engage myself to him; and can't afterwards
with Honour retreat.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Madam, I know the World&mdash;Honour's a Jest,
when Jilting's useful. Besides, he that wou'd have you
break your Oath with <em>Oronces</em>, can never have the Impudence
to blame you, for cracking your Word with
himself. But who knows what may happen between
the Cup and the Lip? Let either of the old Gentlemen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
die, and we ride triumphant. Wou'd I could but see
the Statesman sick a little, I'd recommend a Doctor to
him, a Cousin of mine, a Man of Conscience, a wise
Physician; tip but the Wink, he understands you.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Thou wicked Wench, wou'd'st poison him?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I don't know what I wou'd do; I think, I study,
I invent, and somehow I will get rid of him. I do more
for you, I'm sure, than you and your Knight-Errant do
together for yourselves.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Alas, both he and I do all we can; thou
know'st we do.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Nay, I know y' are willing enough to get together;
but y' are a couple of helpless Things, Heaven
knows.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Our Stars, thou see'st, are bent to Opposition.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Stars!&mdash;I'd fain see the Stars hinder me from
running away with a Man I lik'd.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Ay, but thou know'st, should I disoblige my
Father, he'd give my Portion to my younger Sister.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Ay, there the Shoe pinches, there's the Love of
the Age! Ah!&mdash;--to what an Ebb of Passion are Lovers
sunk in these Days! Give me a Woman that runs
away with a Man, when his whole Estate's pack'd up
in his Knap-sack: That tucks up her Coats to her Knees;
and thro' thick and thro' thin, from Quarters to Camp,
trudges heartily on; with a Child at her Back, another
in her Arms, and a Brace in her Belly: There's Flame
with a Witness, where this is the Effects on't. But we
must have Love in a Feather-bed: Forsooth, a Coach
and six Horses, clean Linen, and Cawdle! Fie for
shame. O ho! here comes our Man. Now shew yourself
a Woman, if you are one.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'm told, fair Virgin, you desire to speak with
me. Lovers are apt to flatter themselves; I take your
Message for a Favour. I hope 'twas meant so.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Favours from Women are so cheap of late,
Men may expect 'em truly, without Vanity.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If the Women are so liberal, I think the Men
are generous too, on their Side: 'Tis a well-bred Age;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
thank Heaven; and a deal of Civility there passes between
the two Sexes. What Service is't that I can do
you, Lady?</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Sir, I have a small Favour to intreat you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What is't? I don't believe I shall refuse you.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> What if you shou'd promise me you won't?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why then I shou'd make a Divorce between my
Good-breeding and my Sense, which ought to be as sacred
a Knot as that of Wedlock.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Dare you not trust then, Sir, the Thing you love?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Not when the Thing I love don't love me: Never.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Trust is sometimes the Way to be belov'd.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Ay, but 'tis oftener the way to be cheated.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Pray promise me you'll grant my Suit.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> 'Tis a reasonable one, I'll give you my word for't.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If it be so, I do promise to grant it.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> That's still leaving yourself Judge.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, who's more concern'd in the Trial?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> But no Body ought to be Judge in their own Cause.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Yet he that is so, is sure to have no wrong done
him.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> But if he does wrong to others, that's worse.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Worse for them, but not for him.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> True Politician, by my troth!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Men must be so, when they have to do with
Sharpers.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> If I shou'd tell you then there were a Possibility
I might be brought to love you, you'd scarce believe me.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I shou'd hope as a Lover, and suspect as a Statesman.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Love and Wisdom! There's the Passion
of the Age again.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> You have liv'd long, Sir, and observ'd much:
Did you never see Time produce strange Changes?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Amongst Women, I must confess I have.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why, I'm a Woman, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, truly, that gives me some Hopes.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> I'll encrease 'em, Sir; I have already been in
Love two Years.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And Time, you know, wears all things to tatters.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well observ'd.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> What, if you shou'd allow me some, to try what
I can do?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, truly, I would have Patience a Day or
two, if there was as much Probability of my being your
new Gallant, as perhaps there may be of changing your
old one.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> She shall give you fair Play for't, Sir; Opportunity
and Leave to prattle, and that's what carries most
Women in our Days. Nay, she shall do more for you:
You shall play with her Fan; squeeze her little Finger;
buckle her Shoe; read a Romance to her in the Arbour;
and saunter in the Woods on a Moonshiny Night.
If this don't melt her, she's no Woman, or you're no
Man&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'm not a Man to melt a Woman that Way: I
know myself, and know what they require. 'Tis thro'
a Woman's Eye you pierce her Heart; and I've no
Darts can make their Entrance there.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> You are a great Statesman, Sir; but I find you
know little of our Matters. A Woman's Heart is to be
enter'd forty Ways. Every Sense she has about her keeps
a Door to it. With a Smock-face, and a Feather, you
get in at her Eyes. With powerful Nonsense, in soft
Words, you creep in at her Ears. An essenc'd Peruke,
and a sweet Handkerchief, lets you in at her Nose.
With a Treat, and a Box full of Sweetmeats, you slip in
at her Mouth: And if you wou'd enter by her Sense of
Feeling, 'tis as beaten a Road as the rest. What think
you now, Sir? <em>There are more Ways to the Wood than one</em>,
you see.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, you're an admirable Pilot; I don't doubt
but you have steer'd many a Ship safe to Harbour: But
I'm an old stubborn Seaman; I must sail by my own
Compass still.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> And by your Obstinacy lose your Vessel.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> No: I'm just ent'ring into Port; we'll be married
to-morrow.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> For Heaven's sake defer it some Days longer;
I cannot love you yet; indeed, I cannot.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Nor never will, I dare swear.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Why then will you marry me?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Because I love you.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> If you lov'd me, you wou'd never make me
miserable.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Not if I lov'd you for your sake; but I love you
for my own.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] There's an old Rogue for you.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> [<em>Weeping.</em>] Is there no way left? must I be
wretched?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis but resolving to be pleas'd. You can't
imagine the Strength of Resolution. I have seen a Woman
resolve to be in the Wrong all the Days of her Life;
and by the help of her Resolution, she has kept her Word
to a Tittle.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Methinks the Subject we're upon shou'd be of
Weight enough to make you serious.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Right: To-morrow Morning pray be ready;
you'll find me so: I'm serious. Now I hope you are
pleas'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Turning away from her.</em></p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> [<em>Going off weeping, and leaning upon <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em>]
Break, Heart! for if than hold'st, I'm miserable.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] Now may the Extravagance of a lewd
Wife, with the Insolence of a virtuous one, join hand
in hand to bring thy grey Hairs to the Grave.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> and <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> My old Friend wishes me well to the last, I see.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> hastily, follow'd by <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Pray hear me, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> 'Tis in vain; I'm resolv'd, I tell you. Most noble
<em>Esop</em>, since you are pleas'd to accept of my poor Offspring
for your Consort, be so charitable to my old Age,
to deliver me from the Impertinence of Youth, by making
her your Wife this Instant; for there's a Plot against
my Life; they have resolv'd to teaze me to Death to-night,
that they may break the Match to-morrow Morning.
Marry her this instant, I intreat you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> This instant, say you!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> This instant; this very instant.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis enough; get all things ready; I'll be with
you in a Moment.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Now, what say you, Mr. <em>Flame-fire</em>? I shall
have the Whip-hand of you presently.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Defer it till to-morrow, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> That you may run away with her to-night; ha?&mdash;&mdash;Sir,
your most obedient humble Servant. Hey,
who waits there? Call my Daughter to me: Quick. I'll
give her her Dispatches presently.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> D'ye call, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Yes, I do, Minx. Go shift yourself, and put
on your best Clothes. You are to be marry'd.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Marry'd, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Yes, marry'd, Madam; and that this Instant too.</p>

<p><em>Euph.</em> Dear Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Not a Word: Obedience and a clean Smock;
dispatch.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> weeping.</em></p>

<p><em><span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> going off, turns to <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span>.</em>] Sir, your most
obedient humble Servant.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Yet hear what I've to say.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> And what have you to say, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Alas! I know not what I have to say!</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Very like so. That's a sure Sign he's in love now.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Have you no Bowels?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Ha, ha! Bowels in a Parent! Here's a young
Fellow for you. Hark thee, Stripling; being in a very
merry Humour, I don't care if I discover some paternal
Secrets to thee. Know then, that how humoursome,
how whimsical soever we may appear, there's one fixt
Principle that runs thro' almost the whole Race of us;
and that's to please ourselves. Why do'st think I got
my Daughter? Why, there was something in't that pleased
me. Why dost think I marry my Daughter? Why
to please myself still. And what is't that pleases me?
Why, my Interest; what do'st think it shou'd be? If
<em>Esop</em>'s my Son-in-Law, he'll make me a Lord: If thou
art my Son-in-Law&mdash;&mdash;thou'lt make me a Grandfather.
Now I having more Mind to be a Lord than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
a Grandfather, give my Daughter to him, and not to
thee.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Then shall her Happiness weigh nothing with
you?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Not this.&mdash;If it did, I'd give her to thee, and
not to him.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Do you think forc'd Marriage the Way to keep
Women virtuous?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> No; nor I don't Care whether Women are virtuous
or not.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> You know your Daughter loves me?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> I do so.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> What, if the Children that <em>Esop</em> may happen to
father, shou'd chance to be begot by me?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Why, then <em>Esop</em> wou'd be the Cuckold, not I.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Is that all your Care?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Yes: I speak as a Father.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> What think you of your Child's Concern in
t'other World?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Why, I think it my Child's Concern, not mine.
I speak as a Father.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Do you remember you once gave me your Consent
to wed your Daughter?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> I did.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Why did you so?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Because you were the best Match that offer'd at
that Time. I did like a Father.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Why then, Sir, I'll do like a Lover. I'll make
you keep your Word, or cut your Throat.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Who waits there, ha?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servants.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Seize me that Bully there. Carry him to Prison,
and keep him safe.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They seize him.</em></p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Why, you won't use me thus?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Yes, but I will tho': Away with him. Sir,
your most humble Servant: I wish you a good Night's
Rest; and as far as a merry Dream goes, my Daughter's
at your Service.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Death and Furies!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Serv. with <span class="antiqua">Oron</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lear. [singing.] <em>Dol, de tol dol, dol, de tol dol, Lilly
Burleighre's lodg'd in a Bough.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Troop of Musicians, Dancers, <span class="antiqua">&amp;c.</span></em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> How now! What have we got here?</p>

<p><em>Mus.</em> Sir, we are a Troop of trifling Fellows, Fiddlers
and Dancers, come to celebrate the Wedding of your fair
Daughter, if your Honour pleases to give us Leave.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> With all my Heart: But who do you take me
for, Sir; ha?</p>

<p><em>1 Mus.</em> I take your Honour for our noble Governor of
<em>Sysicus</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Governor of <em>Sysicus</em>! Governor of a Cheese-Cake!
I'm Father-in-Law to the great <em>Esop</em>, Sirrah. [<em>All
bow to him.</em>] [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;I shall be a great Man. Come,
tune your Fiddles; shake your Legs; get all things
ready. My Son-in-Law will be here presently&mdash;&mdash;I
shall be a great Man!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>1 Mus.</em> A great Marriage, Brother! What do'st think
will be the End on't?</p>

<p><em>2 Mus.</em> Why, I believe we shall see three Turns upon't.
This old Fellow here will turn Fool; his Daughter will
turn Strumpet; and his Son-in-Law will turn 'em both
out of Doors. But that's nothing to thee nor me, so
long as we are paid for our Fiddling. So tune away,
Gentlemen.</p>

<p><em>1 Mus.</em> D'ye hear, Trumpets? When the Bride appears,
salute her with a melancholy Waft. 'Twill suit
her Humour; for I guess she mayn't be over-well pleas'd.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> with several Friends, and a Priest.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Gentlemen and Friends, y'are all welcome. I
have sent to as many of you as our short Time wou'd
give me Leave, to desire you wou'd be Witnesses of the
Honour the great <em>Esop</em> designs ourself and Family.
Hey; who attends there? Go let my Daughter know
I wait for her. [<em>Exit Servant.</em>] 'Tis a vast Honour that
is done me, Gentlemen!</p>

<p><em>2 Gent.</em> It is, indeed, my Lord.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Look you there; if they don't call me
my Lord already&mdash;&mdash;I shall be a great Man!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> weeping, and leaning upon <span class="antiqua">Doris</span>, both
in deep Mourning.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> How now! What's here! All in deep Mourning!
Here's a provoking Baggage for you!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>The Trumpets sound a melancholy Air till <span class="antiqua">Esop</span> appears;
and then the Violins and Hautboys strike up a <span class="antiqua">Lancashire</span>
Hornpipe.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span> in a gay foppish Dress, Long Peruke, &amp;c. a
gaudy Equipage of Pages and Footmen, all enter in an
airy brisk Manner.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> <em>in an affected Tone to <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>.</em>] Gad take my
Soul, Ma'am, I hope I shall please you now&mdash;&mdash;Gentlemen
all, I'm your humble Servant. I'm going to be a
very happy Man, you see. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>.</em>] When the Heat
of the Ceremony's over, if your Ladyship pleases, Ma'am,
I'll wait upon you to take the Air in the Park. Hey,
Page; let there be a Coach and six Horses ready instantly.
[<em>Observing her Dress.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;I vow to Gad, Ma'am, I
was so taken up with my good Fortune, I did not observe
the extreme Fancy of your Ladyship's Wedding-Clothes&mdash;&mdash;Infinitely
pretty! as I hope to be sav'd; a World of
Variety, and not at all gaudy.&mdash;&mdash;[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em>] My dear
Father-in-Law, embrace me.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Your Lordship does me too much Honour.
[<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;I shall be a great Man!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Come, Gentlemen, are all things ready? Where's
the Priest?</p>

<p><em>Priest.</em> Here, my noble Lord.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Most Reverend&mdash;&mdash;will you please to say
Grace that I may fall to, for I am very hungry, and here's
very good Meat. But where's my Rival all this while?
The least we can do, is to invite him to the Wedding.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> My Lord, he's in Prison.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> In Prison! How so?</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> He wou'd have murder'd me.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A bloody Fellow! But let's see him, however.
Send for him quickly. Ha! Governor&mdash;&mdash;that handsome
Daughter of yours, I will so mumble her&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> I shall be a great Man!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span> pinion'd and guarded.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> O ho, here's my Rival! Then we have all we
want. Advance, Sir, if you please. I desire you'll do
me the Favour to be a Witness to my Marriage, lest one
of these Days you shou'd take a fancy to dispute my Wife
with me.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Do you then send for me to insult me? 'Tis
base in you.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I have no Time now to throw away upon Points
of Generosity; I have hotter Work upon my Hands.
Come, Priest, advance.</p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> Pray, hold him fast there; he has the Devil and
all of Mischief in's Eye.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Euph</span>.</em>] Will your Ladyship please, Ma'am,
to give me your fair Hand&mdash;&mdash;Hey-dey!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She refuses her Hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Lear.</em> I'll give it you, my noble Lord, if she won't.
[<em>Aside.</em>] A stubborn, self-will'd, stiff-neck'd Strumpet.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Learchus</span> holds out her Hand to <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>, who takes it;
<span class="antiqua">Oronces</span> stands on <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>'s left Hand, and the Priest
before 'em.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Let my Rival stand next me: Of all Men, I'd
have him be satisfy'd.</p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> Barbarous, inhuman Monster!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Now, Priest, do thy Office.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Flourish with the Trumpets.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Priest.</em> Since the eternal Laws of Fate decreed,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That he thy Husband, she thy Wife shou'd be,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May Heaven take you to its Care,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May <em>Jupiter</em> look kindly down,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Place on your Heads Contentment's Crown!  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And may his Godhead never frown  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon this happy Pair.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Flourish again of Trumpets.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>As the Priest pronounces the last Line, <span class="antiqua">Esop</span> joins <span class="antiqua">Oronces</span>
and <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span>'s Hands.</em></p>

<p><em>Oron.</em> O happy Change! Blessings on Blessings wait
on the generous <em>Esop</em>!</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Esop.</em> Happy, thrice happy, may you ever be,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And if you think there's something due to me,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pay it in mutual Love and Constancy.  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Euph.</em> <em>to <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] You'll pardon me, most generous Man,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If in the present Transports of my Soul,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which you yourself have by your Bounty caus'd,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My willing Tongue is ty'd from uttering<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Thoughts that flow from a most grateful Heart.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Esop.</em> For what I've done, I merit little Thanks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Since what I've done, my Duty bound me to.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I wou'd your Father had acquitted his:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But he who's such a Tyrant o'er his Children,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To sacrifice their Peace to his Ambition,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is fit to govern nothing but himself.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>To <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em>] And, therefore, Sir, at my return to Court,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall take care this City may be sway'd<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By more Humanity than dwells in you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Lear. aside.</em>] I shall be a great man!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Euph. To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] Had I not Reason, from your constant Goodness,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To judge your Bounty, Sir, is infinite,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shou'd not dare to sue for farther Favours:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But pardon me, if imitating Heaven and you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I easily forgive my aged Father,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And beg that <em>Esop</em> would forgive him too.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kneeling to him.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The Injury he wou'd have done to you was
great indeed: But 'twas a Blessing he design'd for me.
If, therefore, you can pardon him, I may. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Lear</span>.</em>]
Your injur'd Daughter, Sir, has on her Knees intreated
for her cruel, barbarous Father; and by her Goodness
has obtain'd her Suit. If, in the Remnant of your
Days, you can find out some way to recompense her,
do it, that Men and Gods may pardon you, as she and
I have done. But, let me see, I have one Quarrel still
to make up. Where's my old Friend <em>Doris</em>?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> She's here, Sir, at your Service; and as much
your Friend as ever; true to her Principles, and firm to
her Mistress. But she has a much better Opinion of
you now than she had half an Hour ago.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> She has reason: For my Soul appear'd then as
deform'd as my Body. But I hope now, one may so far
mediate for t'other, that, provided I don't make Love,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
the Women won't quarrel with me; for they are worse
Enemies even than they are Friends. Come, Gentlemen,
I'll humour my Dress a little longer, and share
with you in the Diversions these boon Companions have
prepar'd us. Let's take our Places, and see how they
can divert us.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Esop</span> leads the Bride to her Place. All being seated,
there's a short Concert of Hautboys, Trumpets, &amp;c.
After which a Dance between an old Man and a young
Woman, who shuns him still at he comes near her.
At last he stops, and begins this Dialogue, which
they sing together.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Old Man.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Why so cold, and why so coy?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What I want in Youth and Fire,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I have in Love and in Desire:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To my Arms, my Love, my Joy!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Why so cold, and why so coy?</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Woman.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis Sympathy, perhaps, with you;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You are cold, and I'm so too.</em>.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Old Man.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>My Years alone have froze my Blood;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Youthful Heat in Female Charms,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Glowing in my aged Arms,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wou'd melt it down once more into a Flood.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Woman.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Women, alas, like Flints, ne'er burn alone;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make a Virgin know</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>There's Fire within the Stone,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some manly Steel must boldly strike the Blow.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Old Man.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Assist me only with your Charms,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You'll find I'm Man, and still am bold;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You'll find I still can strike, tho' old:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I only want your Aid to raise my Arms.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directcenter">Enter a Youth, who seizes on the young Woman. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i20">Youth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Who talks of Charms, who talks of Aid?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I bring an Arm</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That wants no Charm,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To rouze the Fire that's in a flinty Maid.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Retire, old Age:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i8"><em>&mdash;&mdash;Winter, begone:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Behold the youthful Spring comes gayly on.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Here, here's a Torch to light a Virgin's Fire!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To my Arms, my Love, my Joy;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When Women have what they desire,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They're neither cold nor coy.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[She takes him in her Arms.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>The Song and Dances ended, <span class="antiqua">Esop</span> takes <span class="antiqua">Euphronia</span> and
<span class="antiqua">Oronces</span> by the Hands, leading them forwards.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> By this Time, my young eager Couple, 'tis probable
you wou'd be glad to be alone; perhaps you'll
have a Mind to go to Bed, even without your Supper;
for Brides and Bridegrooms eat little on their Wedding-Night.
But since, if Matrimony were worn as it ought
to be, it wou'd, perhaps, sit easier about us than it usually
does, I'll give you one Word of Counsel, and so I
shall release you. When one is out of Humour, let
the other be dumb. Let your Diversions be such, as
both may have a Share in 'em. Never let Familiarity
exclude Respect. Be clean in your Clothes, but nicely
so in your Persons. Eat at one Table, lie in one Room,
but sleep in two Beds: I'll tell the Ladies why:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i16">Turning to the Boxes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>In the sprightly Month of May,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a><br /><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When Males and Females sport and play,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And kiss and toy away the Day;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>An eager Sparrow and his Mate,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Chirping on a Tree, were sat,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Full of Love&mdash;&mdash;and full of Prate.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They talk'd of nothing but their Fires,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of raging Heats, and strong Desires,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>How true and faithful they wou'd be;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of eternal Constancy;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of this and that, and endless Joys,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And a thousand more such Toys:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>Only Thing they apprehended,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was that their Lives wou'd be so short,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They cou'd not finish half their Sport</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Before their Days were ended.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But as from Bough to Bough they rove,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>They chanc'd at last</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>In furious haste,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>On a Twig with Birdlime spread,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(Want of a more downy Bed)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i4"><em>To act a Scene of Love.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Fatal it proved to both their Fires.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For tho' at length they broke away,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And baulk'd the School-Boy of his Prey,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which made him weep the live-long Day,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Bridegroom, in the hasty strife,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was stuck so fast to his dear Wife,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That tho' he us'd his utmost Art,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He quickly found it was in vain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To put himself to further Pain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They never more must part.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A gloomy Shade o'ercast his Brow;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He found himself&mdash;&mdash;I know not how:</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He look'd as Husbands often do.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where-e'er he mov'd, he felt her still,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She kiss'd him oft against his Will:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Abroad, at Home, at Bed and Board,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With favours she o'erwhelm'd her Lord.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Oft he turn'd his Head away,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And seldom had a Word to say,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which absolutely spoil'd her Play,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For she was better stor'd.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Howe'er, at length, her stock was spent,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(For Female Fires sometimes may be</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Subject to Mortality;)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So Back to Back they sit, and sullenly repent.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But the mute Scene was quickly ended,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Lady, for her share, pretended</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Want of Love lay at his Door;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For her part, she had still in store</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Enough for him and twenty more,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which cou'd not be contended.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He answer'd her in homely Words,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(For Sparrows are but ill-bred Birds)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That he already had enjoy'd</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So much, that truly he was cloy'd.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Which so provok'd her Spleen,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That after some good hearty Prayers,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Jostle, and some spiteful Tears,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They fell together by the Ears,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And ne'er were fond again.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-301.jpg" width="700" height="453" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-302.jpg" width="700" height="82" alt="" />
</div>

<p class="ph2"><em>ESOP.</em>
</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PART_II4" id="PART_II4">PART II.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Players.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, good People, who are all you?</p>

<p><em>Omnes.</em> Sir, we are Players.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Players! What Players?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Why, Sir, we are Stage-Players, that's our
Calling: Tho' we play upon other Things too; some
of us play upon the Fiddle; some play upon the Flute;
we play upon one another; we play upon the Town;
and we play upon the Patentees.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Patentees! Pr'ythee, what are they?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Why, they are, Sir&mdash;&mdash;Sir, they are&mdash;&mdash;'Cod
I don't know what they are&mdash;&mdash;Fish or Flesh&mdash;&mdash;Masters
or Servants&mdash;&mdash;Sometimes one&mdash;&mdash;Sometimes
t'other, I think&mdash;&mdash;Just as we are in the Mood.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, I thought they had a lawful Authority
over you.</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Lawful Authority, Sir!&mdash;--Sir, we are free-born
<em>Englishmen</em>, we care not for Law nor Authority
neither, when we are out of Humour.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But I think they pretended at least to an Authority
over you; pray, upon what Foundation was it
built?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Upon a rotten one&mdash;&mdash;if you'll believe us.
Sir, I'll tell you what the Projectors did: They imbark'd
twenty thousand Pound upon a leaky Vessel&mdash;&mdash;She
was built at <em>Whitehall</em>; I think they call'd her&mdash;&mdash;the
Patent&mdash;&mdash;ay, the Patent: Her Keel was made of a
Broad Seal&mdash;&mdash;and the King gave 'em a white Staff
for their Main-Mast. She was a pretty light Frigate to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
look upon, indeed: They spar'd nothing to set her off;
they gilded her, and painted her, and rigg'd, and gunn'd
her: And so sent her a Privateering. But the first Storm
that blew, down went the Mast, ashore went the Ship&mdash;Crack,
says the Keel; Mercy, cry'd the Pilot; but the
Wind was so high, his Pray'rs cou'd not be heard&mdash;so
they split upon a Rock&mdash;&mdash;that lay hid under a
Petticoat.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> A very sad Story, this! But what became of the
Ship's Company?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Why, Sir, your humble Servants here, who were
the Officers, and the best of the Sailors&mdash;&mdash;(little
<em>Ben</em> amongst the rest) seiz'd on a small Bark that lay to
our Hand, and away we put to Sea again. To say the
truth, we were better mann'd than rigg'd, and Ammunition
was plaguy scarce amongst us.&mdash;&mdash;However, a
cruising we went, and some petty small Prizes we have
made; but the Blessing of Heaven not being among us&mdash;&mdash;or
how the Devil 'tis, I cannot tell; but we are
not rich.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, but what became of the rest of the Crew?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Why, Sir, as for the Scoundrels, they, poor
Dogs, stuck by the Wreck. The Captain gave them
Bread and Cheese, and good Words&mdash;&mdash;He told them,
if they wou'd patch her up, and venture t'other Cruise,
he'd prefer 'em all; so to work they went, and to Sea
they got her.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I hope he kept his Word with 'em.</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> That he did; he made the Boatswain's Mate
Lieutenant; he made the Cook Doctor: He was forc'd
to be Purser and Pilot, and Gunner himself; and the
Swabber took Orders to be Chaplain.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But with such unskilful Officers, I'm afraid,
they'll hardly keep above Water long.</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Why truly, Sir, we care not how soon they are
under: But curst Folks thrive, I think. I know nothing
else that makes 'em swim. I'm sure, by the Rules of Navigation,
they ought to have over-set long since; for they
carry a great deal of Sail, and have very little Ballast.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'm afraid you ruin one another. I fancy if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
were all in a Ship together again, you'd have less Work,
and more Profit.</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Ah, Sir&mdash;&mdash;we are resolv'd we'll never sail under
Captain Patentee again.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pr'ythee, why so?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Sir, he has us'd us like Dogs.</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em>&mdash;&mdash;And Bitches too, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'm sorry to hear that; pray, how was't he
treated you?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Sir, 'tis impossible to tell; he us'd us like the
<em>English</em> at <em>Amboyna</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But I wou'd know some Particulars: Tell me
what 'twas he did to you?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> What he did, Sir?&mdash;&mdash;Why, he did in the first
Place, Sir&mdash;&mdash;In the first Place, Sir, he did&mdash;&mdash;I'cod
I don't know what he did&mdash;&mdash;Can you tell, Wife?</p>

<p><em>Wom.</em> Yes, marry can I; and a burning Shame it was too.</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> O, I remember now, Sir, he wou'd not give us
Plums enough in our Pudding.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> That indeed was very hard; but did he give you
as many as he promis'd you?</p>

<p><em>Play.</em> Yes, and more; but what of all that? We had
not as many as we had a mind to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> Sir, my Husband tells you Truth&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I believe he may; but what other Wrongs did
he do you?</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> Why, Sir, he did not treat me with Respect;
'twas not one Day an three he would so much as bid me
good-morrow&mdash;</p>

<p><em>2 Wom.</em> Sir, he invited me to Dinner, and never drank
my Health.</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> Then he cock'd his Hat at Mrs. <em>Pert</em>.</p>

<p><em>2 Wom.</em> Yes, and told Mrs. <em>Slippery</em> he had as good a
Face as she had.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, these were insufferable Abuses&mdash;</p>

<p><em>2 Play.</em> Then, Sir, I did but come to him one Day&mdash;and
tell him I wanted fifty Pound, and what do you
think he did by me, Sir?&mdash;Sir, he turn'd round upon
his Heel like a Top&mdash;</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> But that was nothing to the Affront he put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
upon me, Sir. I came to him, and in very civil words,
as I thought, desir'd him to double my Pay: Sir, wou'd
you believe it? He had the Barbarity to ask me if I
intended to double my Work; and because I told him
no, Sir&mdash;he did use me, good Lord, how he did use me!</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pr'ythee how?</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Why, he walk'd off, and answered me never
a Word.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How had you Patience?</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Sir, I had not Patience. I sent him a Challenge;
and what do you think his answer was?&mdash;He
sent me Word I was a scoundrel Son of a Whore, and he
wou'd only fight me by Proxy&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Very fine!</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> At this rate, Sir, were we poor Dogs us'd&mdash;till
one frosty Morning down he comes amongst us&mdash;and
very roundly tells us&mdash;&mdash;That for the future, no
Purchase, no Pay. They that wou'd not work, shou'd
not eat&mdash;&mdash;Sir, we at first ask'd him coolly and civilly&mdash;&mdash;Why?
His answer was, Because the Town
wanted Diversion, and he wanted Money&mdash;&mdash;Our
Reply to this, Sir, was very short; but I think to the
purpose.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What was it?</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> It was, Sir, that so we wallow'd in Plenty
and Ease&mdash;&mdash;the Town and he might be damn'd&mdash;&mdash;This,
Sir, is the true History of our Separation&mdash;&mdash;and
we hope you'll stand our Friend&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I'll tell you what, Sirs&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>I once a Pack of Beagles knew&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That much resembled I know who;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With a good Huntsman at their Tail,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In full Command,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With Whip in Hand,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They'd run apace</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The chearful Chace,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And of their Game were seldom known to fail.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But being at length their chance to find</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Huntsman of a gentler Kind,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They soon perceiv'd the Rein was slack;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Word went quickly thro' the Pack&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They one and all cry'd Liberty;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>This happy Moment we are free;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We'll range the Woods,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Like Nymphs and Gods,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And spend our Mouths in Praise of Mutiny.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With that, old <span class="antiqua">Jowler</span> trots away,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And <span class="antiqua">Bowman</span> singles out his Prey;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em><span class="antiqua">Thunder</span> bellow'd thro' the Wood,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And swore he'd burst his Guts with Blood;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em><span class="antiqua">Venus</span> tript it o'er the Plain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With boundless Hopes of boundless Gain;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>&mdash;&mdash;<span class="antiqua">Juno</span>, she slipt down the Hedge,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But left her sacred Word for Pledge,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That all she pickt up by the by&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Shou'd to the public Treasury;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And well they might rely upon her;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For <span class="antiqua">Juno</span> was a Bitch of Honour.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In short, they all had Hopes to see</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A heavenly Crop of Mutiny.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And so to reaping fell.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But in a little Time they found,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It was the Devil had till'd the Ground,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And brought the Seed from Hell.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Pack divided, nothing throve:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Discord seiz'd the Throne of Love.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Want and Misery all endure;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All take pains, and all grow poor.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When they had toil'd the live-long Day,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And came at Night to view their Prey,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Oft, alas, so ill they'd sped,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That half went Supperless to Bed.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>At length they all in Council sate,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where at a very fair Debate,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It was agreed at last,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That Slavery with Ease and Plenty,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When Hounds were something turn'd of twenty,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was much a better Fate,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Than 'twas to work and fast.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
<p><em>1 Play.</em> Well, Sir&mdash;&mdash;and what did they do then?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why they all went home to their Kennel again.
If you think they did wisely, you'll do well to follow
their Example.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Well, Beagles, what think you of the little
Gentleman's Advice?</p>

<p><em>2 Wom.</em> I think he's a little ugly Philosopher, and
talks like a Fool.</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Ay, why there 'tis now! If he had been a
tall Handsome Blockhead, he had talk'd like a wise Man.</p>

<p><em>2 Wom.</em> Why, do you think, Mr. <em>Jowler</em>, that we'll
ever join again?</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> I do think, sweet Mrs. <em>Juno</em>, that if we do
not join again, you must be a little freer of your Carcase
than you are, or you must bring down your Pride to
a Serge Petticoat.</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> And do you think, Sir, after the Affronts I
have receiv'd, the Patent and I can ever be Friends?</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> I do think, Madam, that if my interest had
not been more affronted than your Face, the Patent and
you had never been Foes.</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> And so, Sir, then you have serious Thoughts
of a Reconciliation!</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Madam, I do believe I may.</p>

<p><em>1 Wom.</em> Why then, Sir, give me Leave to tell you,
that&mdash;make it my Interest, and I'll have serious Thoughts
on't too.</p>

<p><em>2 Wom.</em> Nay, if you are thereabouts, I desire to come
into the Treaty.</p>

<p><em>3 Play.</em> And I.</p>

<p><em>4 Play.</em> And I.</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> And I. No separate Peace. None of your
<em>Turin</em> Play, I beseech you.</p>

<p><em>1 Play.</em> Why then, since you are all so Christianly dispos'd&mdash;&mdash;I
think we had best adjourn immediately to our
Council-Chamber, choose some potent Prince for Mediator
and Guarantee&mdash;&mdash;fix upon the Place of Treaty,
dispatch our Plenipo's, and whip up the Peace like
an Oyster. For, under the Rose, my Confederates, here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
is such a damn'd Discount upon our Bills, I'm afraid, if
we stand it out another Campaign, we must live upon
slender Subsistence.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>; and a Country Gentleman, who walks to
and fro, looking angrily upon <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you any Business with me, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em>&mdash;I can't tell whether I have or not.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You seem disturb'd, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I'm always so at the Sight of a Courtier.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray what may it be, that gives you so great an
Antipathy to 'em?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Profession.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Honesty.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis an honest Profession. I hope, Sir, for the
general Good of Mankind, you are in some public Employment?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> So I am, Sir&mdash;&mdash;no Thanks to the Court.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You are then, I suppose, employ'd by&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Country.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Who have made you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> A Senator.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Sir, I reverence you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Bowing.</em></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sir, you may reverence as low as you please;
but I shall spare none of you. Sir, I am intrusted by
my Country with above ten Thousand of their Grievances,
and, in order to redress them, my Design is to hang
ten thousand Courtiers.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, 'tis making short Work, I must confess;
but are you sure, Sir, that wou'd do't?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sure,&mdash;&mdash;Ay, sure.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, the whole Country says so, and I at the
Head of 'em. Now let me see who dares say the contrary.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Not I, truly. But, Sir, if you won't take it
ill, I'll ask you a Question or two.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sir, I shall take ill what I please. And if you,
or e'er a Courtier of you all pretend the contrary, I say,
'tis a Breach of Privilege&mdash;&mdash;Now put your Question,
if you think fit.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why then, Sir, with all due regard to your
Character, and your Privilege too, I wou'd be glad to
know what you chiefly complain of?</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Gent.</em> Why, Sir, I do chiefly complain, that we have<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many Ships, and very little Trade;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many Tenants, and very little Money;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many Soldiers, and very little fighting;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many <em>Gazettes</em>, and little good News;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many Statesmen, and very little Wisdom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A great many Parsons, and not an Ounce of Religion.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why truly, Sir, I do confess these are Grievances
very well worth your redressing. And I perceive you are
truly sensible of our Diseases, but I'm afraid you are a
little out in the Cure.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sir, I perceive you take me for a Country-Physician:
but you shall find, Sir, that a Country-Doctor is
able to deal with a Court-Quack; and to shew you that
I do understand something of the State of the Body-Politic,
I will tell you, Sir, that I have heard a wise Man say,
the Court is the Stomach of the Nation, in which, if the
Business be not thoroughly digested, the whole Carcase will
be in Disorder. Now, Sir, I do find by the Feebleness of
the Members, and the Vapours that fly into the Head,
that this same Stomach is full of indigestions, which must
be remov'd: And therefore, Sir, I am come Post to
Town with my Head full of <em>Crocus Metallorum</em>, and design
to give the Court a Vomit.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Sir, the Physic you mention, tho' necessary
sometimes, is of too violent a Nature to be us'd without
a great deal of Caution. I'm afraid, you are a little
too rash in your Prescriptions. Is it not possible you
may be mistaken in the Cause of the Distemper?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Sir, I do not think it possible I shou'd be mistaken
in any thing.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you been long a Senator?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> No, Sir.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you been much about Town?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> No, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you convers'd much with Men of Business?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> No, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you made any serious Enquiry into the
present Disorders of the Nation?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> No, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you ever heard what the Men now employ'd
in Business have to say for themselves?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> No, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How then do you know they deserve to be punish'd
for the present Disorders in your Affairs?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I'll tell you how I know.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I would be glad to hear.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, I know by this&mdash;&mdash;I know it, I say, by
this&mdash;&mdash;that I'm sure on't&mdash;&mdash;And to give you Demonstration
that I'm sure on't, there is not one Man in a
good Post in the Nation&mdash;but I'd give my Vote to hang
him: Now I hope you are convinc'd.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> As for Example: The first Minister of State, why
wou'd you hang him?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Because he gives bad Counsel.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, they say so.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And who would you put in his Room?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> One that would give better.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Who's that?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Myself.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The Secretary of State, why wou'd you hang
him?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Because he has not good Intelligence.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I have heard so.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And who would you put in his Place?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Father.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The Treasurer, why would you hang him?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Because he does not understand his Business.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I dreamt so.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And who would you have succeed him?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Uncle.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The Admiral, why would you hang him?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Because he has not destroy'd the Enemies Ships.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How do you know he could do it?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, I believe so.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And who would you have command in his Stead?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Brother.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And the General, why would you hang him?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Because he took ne'er a Town last Campaign.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And how you do know it was in his Power?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why, I don't care a Souss whether 'twas in his
power or not. But I have a Son at home, a brave chopping
Lad; he has been Captain in the Militia these
twelve Months, and I'd be glad to see him in his Place.
What do ye stare for, Sir? Ha! I'gad I tell you he'd
scour all to the Devil. He's none of your Fencers,
none of your sa-sa Men. <em>Numps</em> is downright, that's
his Play. You may see his Courage in his Face: He
has a Pair of Cheeks like two Bladders, a Nose as flat as
your Hand, and a Forehead like a Bull.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> In short, Sir, I find if you and your Family were
provided for, Things would soon grow better than they do.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> And so they wou'd, Sir. Clap me at the Head
of the State, and <em>Numps</em> at the Head of the Army:
He with his Club-Musquet, and I with my Club Head-Piece,
we'd soon put an End to your Business.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I believe you wou'd indeed. And therefore,
since I happen to be acquainted with your extraordinary
Abilities, I am resolv'd to give the King an Account of
you, and employ my Interest with him, that you and
your Son may have the Posts you desire.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Will you, by the Lord?&mdash;Give me your Fist,
Sir&mdash;the only honest Courtier that ever I met with in
my Life.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But, Sir, when I have done you this mighty
Piece of Service, I shall have a small Request to beg of
you, which I hope you won't refuse me.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why, 'tis in behalf of the two Officers who are
to be displac'd to make Room for you and your Son.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> The Secretary and the General?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> The same. 'Tis pity they shou'd be quite out
of Business: I must therefore desire you'll let me recommend
one of 'em to you for your Bailiff, and t'other for
your Huntsman.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> My Bailiff and my Huntsman!&mdash;--Sir, that's
not to be granted.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray, why?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why?&mdash;&mdash;Because one wou'd ruin my Land,
and t'other wou'd spoil my Fox-Hounds.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why do you think so?</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Why do I think so!&mdash;--These Courtiers will
ask the strangest Questions!&mdash;--Why, Sir, do you think
that Men bred up to the State or the Army, can understand
the Business of Ploughing and Hunting?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I did not know but they might.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> How cou'd you think so?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Because I see Men bred up to Ploughing and
Hunting, understand the Business of the State and the Army.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> I'm shot&mdash;&mdash;I ha'n't one Word to say for myself&mdash;&mdash;I
never was so caught in my Life.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> I perceive, Sir, by your Looks, what I have
said has made some Impression upon you; and would,
perhaps do more, if you wou'd give it leave. [<em>Taking his
Hand.</em>] Come, Sir, tho' I am a Stranger to you, I can
be your Friend; my Favour at Court does not hinder
me from being a Lover of my Country. 'Tis my Nature,
as well as Principle, to be pleas'd with the Prosperity
of Mankind. I wish all Things happy, and my Study
is to make them so.</p>

<p>The Distempers of the Government (which I own are
great) have employ'd the Stretch of my Understanding,
and the deepest of my Thoughts, to penetrate the Cause,
and to find out the Remedy. But alas! All the Product
of my Study is this, That I find there is too near a Resemblance
between the Diseases of the State and those of
the Body, for the most expert Minister to become a greater
Master in one than the College is in t'other: And how
far their Skill extends, you may see by this Lump upon
my Back. Allowances in all Professions there must be,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
since 'tis weak Man that is the weak Professor. Believe
me, Senator, for I have seen the Proof on't. The longest
Beard amongst us is a Fool. Cou'd you but stand behind
the Curtain, and there observe the secret Springs of
State, you'd see, in all the Good or Evil that attends it,
ten Ounces of Chance for one Grain either of Wisdom
or Roguery.</p>

<p>You'd see, perhaps, a venerable Statesman sit fast
asleep in a great downy Chair; whilst, in that soft Vacation
of his Thought, blind Chance (or what at least we
blindly call so) shall so dispose a thousand secret Wheels,
that when he awakes, he needs but write his Name, to
publish to the World some blest Event, for which his
Statue shall be rais'd in Brass.</p>

<p>Perhaps a Moment thence, you shall behold him torturing
his Brain; his Thoughts all stretcht upon the Rack
for publick Service. The live-long Night, when all
the World's at rest, consum'd in Care, and watching for
their Safety, then by a Whirlwind in his Fate, in spight
of him, some Mischief shall befall 'em, for which a furious
Sentence strait shall pass, and they shall vote him to the
Scaffold. Even thus uncertain are Rewards and Punishments;
and even thus little do the People know, when
'tis the Statesman merits one or t'other.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> Now I do believe I am beginning to be a wise
Man; for I never till now perceived I was a Fool. But
do you then really believe, Sir, our Men in Business do
the best they can?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Many of 'em do: Some perhaps do not. But
this you may depend upon; he that is out of Business is
the worst Judge in the World of him that is in: First,
Because he seldom knows any Thing of the Matter: And,
Secondly, Because he always desires to get his Place.</p>

<p><em>Gent.</em> And so, Sir, you turn the Tables upon the
Plaintiff, and lay the Fool and Knave at his Door.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> If I do him wrong, I'm sorry for't. Let him examine
himself, he'll find whether I do or not.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Gent.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Examine!&mdash;--I think I have had enough
of that already. There's nothing left, that I know of,
but to give Sentence: And truly I think, there's no great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>
difficulty in that. A very pretty Fellow I am, indeed!
Here am I come bellowing and roaring two hundred
Miles Post to find myself an Ass; when, with one Quarter
of an Hour's Consideration, I might have made the self-same
Discovery, without going over my Threshold.
Well! if ever they send me on their Errand to reform
the State again, I'll be damn'd. But this I'll do: I'll
go home and reform my Family if I can: Them I'm
sure I know. There's my Father's a peevish old Coxcomb:
There's my Uncle's a drunken old Sot: There's
my Brother's a cowardly Bully: Son <em>Numps</em> is a lubberly
Whelp: I've a great ramping Daughter, that stares
like a Heifer: and a Wife that's a slatternly Sow.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a young, gay, airy Beau, who stands smiling
contemptibly upon <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Well, Sir, what are you?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> A Fool.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> That's impossible!&mdash;--for if thou wert,
thou'd'st think thyself a wise Man.</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> So I do&mdash;This is my own Opinion&mdash;&mdash;the
t'other's my Neighbour's.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Walking airily about.</em></p>

<p><em>Esop. gazing after him.</em>] Have you any Business with
me, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Sir, I have Business with nobody, Pleasure's
my Study.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] An odd Fellow this!&mdash;--Pray, Sir, who
are you?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> I can't tell&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Do you know who I am?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> No, Sir: I'm a Favourite at Court, and I neither
know myself, nor any body else.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Are you in any Employment?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What is't?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> I don't know the Name on't.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> You know the Business on't, I hope?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> That I do&mdash;the Business of it is&mdash;&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;put
in a Deputy and receive the Money.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Pray, what may be your Name?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Empty.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Where do you live?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> In the Side-Box.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What do you do there?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> I ogle the Ladies.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> To what Purpose?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> To no Purpose.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why then do you do it?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Because they like it, and I like it.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Wherein consists the Pleasure?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> In playing the Fool.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Pray, Sir, what Age are you?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Five and twenty my Body; my Head's about
fifteen.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Is your Father living?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Dead, thank God.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Has he been long so?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Positively, yes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Where were you brought up?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> At School.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What School?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> The School of <em>Venus</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Were you ever at the University?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What Study did you follow there?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> My Bed-maker.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> How long did you stay?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Till I had lost my Maidenhead.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Why did you come away?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Because I was expell'd.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Where did you go then?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> To Court.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Who took Care of your Education there?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> A Whore and a Dancing-Master.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What did you gain by them?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> A <em>Minuet</em>, and the <em>Pox</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you an Estate?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> I had.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What's become on't?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Spent.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> In what?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> In a Twelvemonth.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But how?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Why, in Dressing, Drinking, Whoring, Claps,
Dice, and Scriveners. What do you think of me now,
old Gentleman?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Pray, what do you think of yourself?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> I don't think at all: I know how to bestow
my Time better.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Are you married?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> No&mdash;&mdash;have you ever a Daughter to bestow
upon me?</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> She wou'd be well bestow'd.</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Why, I'm a strong young Dog, you old Put,
you: She may be worse coupled&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> Have you then a Mind to a Wife, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Yaw, <em>Mynheer</em>.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> What wou'd you do with her?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Why, I'd take Care of her Affairs, rid her of
all her Troubles, her Maidenhead, and her Portion.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And, pray, what Sort of Wife wou'd you be
willing to throw yourself away upon?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Why, upon one that has Youth, Beauty, Quality,
Virtue, Wit and Money.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> And how may you be qualified yourself, to
back you in your Pretensions to such a one?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Why, I am qualified with&mdash;&mdash;a Perriwig&mdash;&mdash;a
Snuff-box&mdash;a Feather&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;smooth Face&mdash;&mdash;a
Fool's Head&mdash;&mdash;and a Patch.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> But one Question more: What Settlements
can you make?</p>

<p><em>Beau.</em> Settlements!&mdash;Why, if she be a very great
Heiress, indeed, I believe I may settle&mdash;&mdash;myself upon
her for Life, and my Pox upon her Children for ever.</p>

<p><em>Esop.</em> 'Tis enough; you may expect I'll serve you, if
it lies in my Way. But I wou'd not have you rely too
much upon your Success, because People sometimes are
mistaken&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>As for Example&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>An Ape there was of nimble Parts,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A great Intruder into Hearts,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As brisk, and gay, and full of Air,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As you or I, or any here;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Rich in his Dress, of splendid Shew,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And with an Head like any Beau:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Eternal Mirth was in his Face;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where'er he went,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He was content,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So Fortune had but kindly sent</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some Ladies&mdash;&mdash;and a Looking-glass.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Encouragement they always gave him,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Encouragement to play the Fool;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For soon they found it was a Tool</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wou'd hardly be so much in Love,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But that the mumbling of a Glove,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Or tearing of a Fan, wou'd save him.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>These Bounties he accepts as Proof</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of Feats done by his Wit and Youth;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He gives their Freedom gone for ever,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Concludes each Female Heart undone,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Except that very Happy One</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To which he'd please to do the Favour.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In short, so smooth his Matters went,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He guess'd, where'er his Thoughts were bent,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Lady he must carry:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So put on a fine new Cravat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He comb'd his Wig, he cock'd his Hat,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And gave it out he'd marry.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But here, alas! he found to 's Cost,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He had reckon'd long without his Host:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For wheresoe'er he made th' Attack,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Poor Pug with Shame was beaten back.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The first fair She he had in Chace,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was a young Cat, extremely rich,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Her Mother was a noted Witch;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So, had the Daughter prov'd but civil,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He'd been related to the Devil.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But when he came</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To urge his Flame,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She scratch'd him o'er the Face.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With that he went among the Bitches,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Such as had Beauty, Wit and Riches,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And swore Miss Maulkin, to her Cost,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Shou'd quickly see what she had lost:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But the poor, unlucky Swain</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Miss'd his Shepherdess again;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>His Fate was to miscarry.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>It was his Destiny to find,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That Cats and Dogs are of a Mind,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When Monkies come to marry.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Beau.</em> 'Tis very well;&mdash;&mdash;'tis very well, old Spark;
I say, 'tis very well. Because I han't a Pair of plaid
Shoes, and a dirty Shirt, you think a Woman won't
venture upon me for a Husband&mdash;&mdash;Why, now to shew
you, old Father, how little you Philosophers know of
the Ladies, I'll tell you an Adventure of a Friend of
mine.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A Band, a Bob-Wig, and a Feather,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Attack'd a Lady's Heart together.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Band, in a most learned Plea,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Made up of deep Philosophy,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Told her, if she wou'd please to wed</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Reverend Beard, and take, instead</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of vigorous Youth,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Old solemn Truth,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With Books and Morals into Bed,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>How happy she wou'd be.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The Bob, he talk'd of Management,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What wondrous Blessings Heaven sent</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>On Care, and Pains, and Industry;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And, truly, he must be so free</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To own, he thought your airy Beaux,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With powder'd Wigs, and dancing Shoes,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Were good for nothing (mend his Soul!),</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But prate, and talk, and play the Fool.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>He said, 'twas Wealth gave Joy and Mirth;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And that to be the dearest Wife</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Of one, who labour'd all his Life,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make a Mine of Gold his own,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And not spend <span class="antiqua">Sixpence</span> when he'd done,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Was Heaven upon Earth.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>When these two Blades had done, d' ye see,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Feather (as it might be me)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Steps out, Sir, from behind the Skreen,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With such an Air, and such a Mien,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Look you, old Gentleman, in short,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He quickly spoil'd the Statesman's Sport.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>It prov'd such Sunshine Weather,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That you must know, at the first Beck</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Lady leapt about his Neck,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And off they went together.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>To <span class="antiqua">Esop</span>.</em>] There's a Tale for your Tale, old Dad,
and so&mdash;&mdash;<em>Serviteur</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-319.jpg" width="700" height="460" alt="" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a><br /><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-321.jpg" width="700" height="79" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE5" id="THE5">THE</a><br />

FALSE FRIEND.<br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-321.jpg" width="700" height="79" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-322.jpg" width="700" height="68" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE5" id="PROLOGUE5">PROLOGUE.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Capt. <em>Griffin</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">Y</span>ou</span> dread Reformers of an impious Age,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You awful Cat-o'-nine Tails to the Stage,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>This once be just, and in our Cause engage.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To gain your Favour, we your Rules obey,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And treat you with a moral Piece to-day;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So moral, we're afraid 'twill damn the Play.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>For tho' y' ave long been leagu'd (as People tell)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To reduce the Power exorbitant of Hell;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No Troops you send, t' abate it in this Field,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But leave us still expos'd, to starve or yield.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your Scouts, indeed, sometimes come stealing in,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>T' observe this formidable Camp of Sin,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And whisper, if we'll piously declare,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What Aids you then will send, to help us thro' the War.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>To this we answer, We're a feeble State,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And cannot well afford to love or hate,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So shou'd not meddle much in your Debate.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But, since your Cause is good, thus far we'll go,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When <span class="antiqua">Portugal</span> declares, we'll do so too.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Our Cases, as we think, are much alike,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And on the same Conditions, we should strike;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Send to their Aid a hundred Men of War,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To ours, a hundred Squadrons of the Fair;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Rig out your Wives and Daughters all around,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>(I mean, wh' are fit for Service, tight and sound)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And, for a Proof our Meaning is sincere,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>See but the Ships are good, and if you fear</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A Want of Equipage, we'll mann them here.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>These are the Terms on which you may engage</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The Poet's Fire, to batter from the Stage:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Useful Ally! whose Friendship lets you in,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Upon the weak and naked Side of Sin.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Against your old Attack, the Foe's prepar'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Well fortify'd, and always on his Guard;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The sacred Shot you send are flung in vain;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By Impious Hands, with insolent Disdain,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They're gather'd up, and fir'd at you again.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Thro' baffled Toils, and unsuccessful Cares,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In Slaughter, Blood and Wounds, and pious Snares,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Y' ave made a <span class="antiqua">Flanders</span> War these fifteen hundred Years.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Change then your Scheme, if you'll your Foe annoy,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And the infernal <span class="antiqua">Bajazet</span> destroy;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Our Aid accept,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>W' ave gentler Stratagems which may succeed;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We'll tickle 'em where you'd make 'em bleed:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In Sounds less harsh, we'll teach 'em to obey;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In softer Strains the evil Spirit lay,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And steal Immorality away.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-323.jpg" width="700" height="336" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae5" id="Dramatis_Personae5">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="3">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Don <em>Felix</em>, a Gentleman of <em>Valencia</em>,</td>
    <td>Capt. <em>Griffin</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Pedro</em>,</td>
    <td rowspan="3" class="bl br tdc">Lovers of <em>Leonora</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Wilks</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Guzman</em>, </td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Mills</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>John</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Cibber</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Lopez</em>, Servant to Don <em>John</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pinkethman</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Galindo</em>, Servant to Don <em>Guzman</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bullock</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="3">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Leonora</em>, Daughter to Don <em>Felix</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Rogers</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Isabella</em>, her Friend, and Sister to <em>Guzman</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Kent</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Jacinta</em>, Woman to <em>Leonora</em>,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Oldfield</em>.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>


<p class="center"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, at <em>Valencia</em>.
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-325.jpg" width="700" height="81" alt="" />
</div>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
FALSE FRIEND.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-237b.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>'s Lodgings.</em>
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">John</span> beating <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>old</span>, Sir, hold; there's enough in all
Conscience; I'm reasonable, I ask no more;
I'm content.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Then there's a double Content, you Dog,
and a Brace of Contents more into the Bargain. Now
is't well?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Striking again and again.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O, mighty well, Sir; you'll never mend it;
pray leave it as 'tis.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Look you, you Jackanapes, if ever I
hear an Offer at your impertinent Advice again&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> And why, Sir, will you stifle the most useful
of my Qualifications?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Either, Sirrah, I pass for a very great
Blockhead with you, or you are pleas'd to reckon much
upon my Patience.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Your Patience, Sir, indeed is great: I feel at
this Time forty Proofs on't upon my Shoulders: But
really, Sir, I wou'd advise you to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Again! I can bear thee no longer. Here,
Pen and Ink, I'll give thee thy Discharge: Did I take
you for a Valet, or a Privy-Counsellor, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis confess'd, Sir, you took me but for humble
Employment; but my Intention was agreeably to surprize
you with some superior Gifts of Nature, to your
faithful Slave. I profess, my noble Master, a most perfect
Knowledge of Men and Manners. Yours, gracious
Sir, (with all Respect I speak it) are not irreprehensible.
And I'm afraid in Time, Sir, I am indeed, they'll riggle
you into some ill-favour'd Affair, whence, with all
my Understanding, I shall be puzzled to bring you off.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Very well, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> And therefore, Sir, it is, that I, poor <em>Lopez</em> as
I am, sometimes take leave to maralize.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Go, go, moralize in the Market-place:
I'm quite worn out. Once more, march.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Is the Sentence definitive?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Positive.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Then, pray, let us come to account, and see
what Wages are due.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Wages! Refund what you have had, you
Rascal, you, for the plague you have given me.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Nay, if I must lose my Money; then let me
claim another Right: Losers have leave to speak.
Therefore, advance, my Tongue, and say thy Pleausure;
tell this Master of mine, he shou'd die with shame at
the Life he leads: So much unworthy of a Man of Honour:
Tell him&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I'll hear no more.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> You shall indeed, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Here, take thy Money, and begone.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Counters all; adieu, you glistring Spangles of
the World; farewel, ye Tempters of the Great, not
me. Tell him&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Stay.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Go on; tell him he's worse among the Women
than a Ferret among the Rabbits; at one and all, from
the Princess to the Tripe-Woman; handsome, ugly,
old Women and Children, all go down.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> It is, indeed, Sir, and so are the Stories you tell
them to bring them to your Matters. The Handsome,
she's all Divinity, to be sure; the Ugly, she's so agreeable,
were it not for her Virtue, she'd be over-run with Lovers;
the light, airy, Flipflap, she kills him with her
Motions; the dull, heavy-tail'd Maukin melts him down
with her Modesty; the scragged, lean, pale Face has a
Shape for Destruction; the fat over-grown Sow has an
Air of Importance; the tall aukward Trapes with her
Majesty wounds; the little, short Trundle-tail shoots a
<em>Je-ne-sçay-quoy</em>: In a Word, they have all something
for him&mdash;&mdash;and he has something for them all.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> And thus, you Fool, by a general Attack,
I keep my Heart my own; lie with them that
like me, and care not Sixpence for them that don't.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Well said, well said; a very pretty Amusement,
truly! But, pray, Sir, by your leave (Ceremony aside)
since you are pleas'd to clear up into Conversation, what
mighty Matters do you expect from boarding a Woman,
you know, is already Heart and Soul engag'd to another?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why, I expect her Heart and Soul shou'd
disengage in a Week. If you live a little longer with
me, Sirrah, you'll know how to instruct your next Master
to the purpose; and therefore, that I may charitably
equip you for a new Service, now I'm turning you out
of my own, I'll let you know, that when a Woman
loves a Man best, she's in the most hopeful way of betraying
him; for Love, like Fortune, turns upon a
Wheel, and is very much given to rising and falling.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Like enough: But as much upon the Weathercock
as the Ladies are; there are some the Wind must
blow hard to fetch them about: When such a sturdy
Hussy falls in your Honour's way, what account may
Things turn to then, an't please ye?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> They turn to a Bottle, you Puppy.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I find they'll always turn to something; but
when you pursue a poor Woman, only to make her
Lover jealous, what Pleasure can you take in that?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> That Pleasure.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Look you there, again.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why, Sirrah, d'ye think there's no Pleasure
in spoiling their Sport, when I can't make my own?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O! to a good-natur'd Man, be sure there must;
but, suppose, instead of 'fending and proving with his
Mistress, he shou'd come to&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;parrying and
thrusting with you; what becomes of your Joy, then,
my noble Master?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why, do you think I'm afraid to fight,
you Rascal?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I thought we were talking of what we lov'd,
not what we fear'd, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Sir, I love every Thing that leads to
what I love most.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I know, Sir, you have often fought upon these
Occasions.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Therefore, that has been no stop to my
Pleasures.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> But you have never been kill'd once, Sir; and
when that happens, you will for ever lose the Pleasure
of&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Striking him.</em>] Breaking your Head, you
Rascal, which will afflict me heartily. See who knocks
so hard.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Knocking.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Somebody that thinks I can hear no better than
you think I can feel.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Don <em>John de Alvarada</em>, is he here?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> There's the Man. Shew me such another, if
you can find him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Don <em>John</em>, I desire to speak with you alone.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> You may speak before this Fellow, Sir;
he's trusty.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> 'Tis an Affair of Honour, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Withdraw, <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Behind the Door I will, and no farther. [<em>Aside.</em>]
This Fellow looks as if he came to save me a broken
Head.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Lopez</span> retires.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I call myself <em>Don Guzman de Torrellas</em>; you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>
know what Blood I spring from; I am a Cadet, and
by consequence, not rich; but I am esteem'd by Men
of Honour: I have been forward to expose myself in
Battles abroad, and I have met with Applause in our
Feasts at home.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> So much by way of Introduction.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I understand your Merit, Sir, and shou'd
be glad to do as much by your Business.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Give Attention, and you'll be instructed.
I love <em>Leonora</em>, and from my Youth have done so. Long
she rejected my Sighs, and despised my Tears, but my
Constancy at last hath vanquish'd. I have found the way
to her Heart, and nothing is wanting to compleat my
Joy, but the Consent of her Father, whom I cannot
yet convince, that the Wants in my Fortune are recompens'd
by the Merits of my Person.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He's a very dull Fellow, indeed.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> In the mean while, the Object of my Vows
is a sharer in my Grief, and the only Cordial we have
is the Pleasure of a secret Conversation, thro' a small
Breach I have made in a thin Partition that divides our
Lodgings. I trust you, Don <em>John</em>, with this important
Secret; Friend or Enemy, you are noble, therefore
keep it; I charge your Honour with it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> You cou'd not put it in better Hands.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But more; my Passion for this Lady is not
hid; all <em>Valencia</em> is acquainted with my Wishes, and
approves my Choice. You alone, Don <em>John de Alvarada</em>,
seeming ignorant of my Vows, dare traverse my
Amour.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Go on.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> These Words import War; lie close, <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> You are the <em>Argus</em> of our Street and the
Spy of <em>Leonora</em>; whether <em>Diana</em> by her borrow'd Light
supplies the Absence of the <em>Astrea</em> of Day, or that the
Shades of Night cover the Earth with impenetrable
Darkness; you still attend till <em>Aurora</em>'s Return, under
the Balcony of that adorable Beauty.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> So?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Wherever she moves, you still follow as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>
her Shadow, at Church, at Plays: Be her Business with
Heaven or Earth, your Importunity is such, you'll share it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He is a forward Fellow, that's the Truth on't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But what's still farther, you take the Liberty
to copy me; my Words, my Actions, every Motion
is no sooner mine, but your's. In short, you ape
me, Don; and to that point, I once design'd to stab
myself, and try if you wou'd follow me in that too.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> No, there the Monkey wou'd have left you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But to conclude.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> 'Tis Time.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> My Patience, Don, is now no more; and
I pronounce, that if henceforth I find you under <em>Leonora</em>'s
Window, who never wish'd, fond Man, to see
you there; I, by the ways of Honour, shall fix you in
another Station. I leave you to consider on't.&mdash;&mdash;Farewel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Don</span> Guz.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Hold, Sir, we had e'en as good do this
honourable Deed now.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> No, pray, Sir, let him go, and maybe you
mayn't have Occasion to do it at all.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I thought at first the Coxcomb came upon
another Subject, which wou'd have embarrassed me
much more.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Now this was a Subject wou'd have embarrass'd
me enough in all Conscience.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I was afraid he came to forbid me seeing
his Sister, <em>Isabella</em>, with whom I'm upon very good
Terms.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, now, that's a hard Case, when you have
got a Man's Sister, you can't leave him his Mistress.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> No, Changeling, I hate him enough, to
love every Woman that belongs to him: and the Fool
has so provok'd me by this Threatning, that I believe I
shall have a Stroke at his Mother, before I think myself
even with him.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> A most admirable way to make up Accounts,
truly!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> A Son of a Whore! s'death, I did not
care Sixpence for the Slut before, but now I'll have her
Maidenhead in a Week, for fear the Rogue shou'd
marry her in ten Days.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Mum; here's her Father: I'll warrant this old
Spark comes to correct our Way of living too.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Don <em>John!</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Don <em>Felix!</em> do I see you in my poor
Dwelling? Pray, to what lucky Accident do I owe
this Honour?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That I may speak to you without Constraint,
pray send away your Servant.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What the Pox have I done to 'em, they are all
so uneasy at my Company?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Give us Chairs, and leave the Room.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> If this old Fellow comes to quarrel with us too,
he'll at least do us less harm.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Won't you retire, Friend?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking behind.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Be gone, Sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Lop. aside.</em>] Pox take ye&mdash;&mdash;you old Prig, you: But
I shall be even with you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Lopez hides himself.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> You know me, Sir?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I do, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That I call myself&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Don Felix.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That I am of the House of&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> <em>Cabrera</em>, one of the first of <em>Valencia</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That my Estate is&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Great.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> You know that I have some Reputation in
the World?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I know your Reputation equals your Birth.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> And you are not ignorant, that Heaven, for
the Consolation of my grey Hairs, has given me an only
Daughter, who is not deform'd?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Beauteous as Light.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Well shap'd, witty, and endow'd with&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> All the good Qualities of Mind and Body.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Since you are satisfy'd with all this, hearken,
I pray, with Attention, to the Business that brings me
hither.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I shall.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> We all know, Don <em>John</em>, some by their
own Experience, some by that of others, how nice a
Gentleman's Honour is, and how easily tarnish'd; an
<em>Eclaircissement</em> manag'd with Prudence, often prevents
Misfortunes, that, perhaps, might be upon the Point of
attending us. I have thought it my Duty to acquaint
you, that I have seen your Designs upon my Daughter:
You pass Nights entire under her Window, as if you
were searching an Opportunity to get into my House;
there is nobody in the Town but has taken Notice of
your Proceedings; you give the Publick a Subject for
disadvantageous Discourse; and tho' in reality <em>Leonora</em>'s
Virtue receives no Prejudice by it, her Reputation
daily runs some Risque. My Years have taught me
to judge right of Things; and yet, I have not been
able to decide what your End can be; you can't regard
my Daughter on a foot of Gallantry; you know
her Virtue, and my Birth too well; and for a Wife
you seem to have no Thought, since you have yet
made no Demand to me: What then is your Intention?
You have heard, perhaps, I have hearken'd to a Gentleman
of <em>Toledo</em>, a Man of Merit. I own I have, and
I expect him daily here; but, Don <em>John</em>, if 'tis that
which hinders you from declaring in form, I'll ease you
of a great deal of Trouble, which the Customs of the
World impose upon these Occasions, and, in a Word,
I'll break with him, and give you <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Good.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> You don't answer me! What is't that troubles
you?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> That I have been such a Sot, old Gentleman,
to hear you with so much Patience.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Rising.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> How, Don! I'm more astonish'd at your
Answer, than I was with your Silence.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Astonish'd! Why han't you talk'd to me
of Marriage? He asks me to marry, and wonders what
I complain of!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis well&mdash;&mdash;'tis well, Don <em>John</em>, the Outrage
is violent! You insult me in your own House.
But, know, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Rising.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> But, know, Sir, there needs no Quarrel,
if you please, Sir; I like your Daughter very well; but
for marrying her&mdash;&mdash;<em>Serviteur</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Don <em>Guzman de Torrellas</em> has not less Merit
than you, Don.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Agreed; what then?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> And yet I have refus'd him my Daughter.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why then, you have used him better than
you have done me, which I take very unkindly.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> I have us'd you, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Us'd me, Sir? you have us'd me very
ill, to come into my own House to seduce me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> What Extravagance!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What Persecution!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Am I then to have no other Answer?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Methinks, you have enough in all Conscience.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Promise me, at least, you'll cease to love
my Daughter.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I won't affront your Family so far, neither.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I'gad my Master shines to-day.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Know, Don, that I can bear no more.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> If he cou'd, I think there's no more to lay upon
him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> If I find you continue to importune <em>Leonora</em>,
I shall find a way to satisfy my offended Honour,
and punish your Presumption.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> You shall do what you please to me, provided
you don't marry me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Know, <em>Alvarada</em>, there are ways to revenge
such outrageous Affronts as these.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I won't marry.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis enough.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> So; the old Fellow's gone at last, and has carry'd
great Content along with him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What dost think? He wou'd have marry'd
me!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes, he had found his Man. But you have
been even with him.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What! thou hast heard us then?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Or I were no Valet: But, pray, what does
your Honour intend to do now? Will you continue the
Siege of a Place, where, 'tis probable, they will daily
augment the Fortifications, when there are so many
open Towns you may march into, without the Trouble
of opening the Trenches.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I am going, <em>Lopez</em>, to double my Attacks:
I'll beat up her Quarters six Times a-night; I
am now downright in Love: the Difficulties pique me
to the Attempt, and I'll conquer or I'll die.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, to confess the Truth, Sir, I find you
much upon my Taste in this Matter: Difficulties are
the Rocambole of Love; I never valu'd an easy Conquest
in my life. To rouse my Fire; the Lady must
cry out, as softly as ever she can, Have a Care, my
Dear, my Mother has seen us: My Brothers suspect
me; my Husband may surprize us: O, dear Heart,
have a Care, I pray! Then, I play the Devil: But,
when I come to a Fair-one, where I may hang up my
Cloak upon a Peg, get into my Gown and Slippers&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Impudent Rogue!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> See her stretch'd upon the Couch, in great Security,
with&mdash;My Dear, come kiss me, we have nothing
to fear&mdash;I droop, I yawn, I sleep.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Well, Sir, whatever you do with your
Fair-one, I am going to be very busy with mine; I was
e'en almost weary of her, but <em>Guzman</em> and this old Fellow
have reviv'd my dying Fire; and so, have at her.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis all mighty well, Sir; mighty well, Sir, as
can be in the World. But, if you wou'd have the Goodness
to consider <em>en passant</em>, or so, a little now and then
about Swords and Daggers, and Rivals and old Fellows,
and Pistols and great Guns, and such like Baubles, only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>
now and then at leisure, Sir, not to interrupt Things
of more Consequence.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Thou art a cowardly Rascal, I have often
consider'd that.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ay, that's true, Sir; and yet a Blunderbuss is
presently discharged out of a Garret-Window.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Come, no more Words, but follow me:
How now! what Impertinence have we here now, to
stop me?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis Don <em>Pedro</em>, or I'm a Dog.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Impossible! Don <em>Pedro</em> return'd!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Tis I, my dearest Friend; I'm come to
forget all the Miseries of a long Absence in one happy
Embrace.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They embrace.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I'm overjoy'd to see you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Mine's not to be exprest. What, Friend
<em>Lopez</em> here still! How dost do, <em>Lopez</em>? What, dost not
know me?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> As well as my Father's Seal, Sir, when he sends
me a Bill of Exchange.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Just as he was, I find, Galliard still.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I find it very unwholesome to be otherwise, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> You have then quitted the Service in
<em>Flanders</em>, I suppose.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I have so, Friend! I have left the Ensigns
of <em>Mars</em>, and am listing myself in a softer Militia.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Explain, pray.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Why, when your Father's Death oblig'd
you to leave <em>Brussels</em>, and return hither to the plentiful
Fortune he left you; I stay'd in <em>Flanders</em>, very trist for
your Lost, and past three Years in the Trade of War.
About two Months since, my Father writ to me from
<em>Toledo</em>, that he was going to marry me very advantageously
at <em>Valencia</em>: He sent me the Picture of the Lady,
and I was so well pleased with it, that I immediately got
my <em>Congé</em> and embark'd at <em>Dunkirk</em>; I had a quick Passage
to the <em>Groyne</em>, from whence, by the way of <em>Madrid</em>,
I am come hither with all the Speed I cou'd. I have,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>
you must know, been two Days in Town, but I have
lain <em>Incognito</em>, that I might inform myself of the Lady's
Conduct I'm to marry; and I have discover'd, that
she's serv'd by two Cavaliers of Birth and Merit. But
tho' they have both given many Proofs of a most violent
Passion, I have found, for the Quiet of my Honour,
that this virtuous Lady, out of Modesty or Prudence,
has shewn a perfect Indifference to them and their Gallantries;
her Fortune is considerable, her Birth is high,
her Manners irreproachable, and her Beauty so great,
that nothing but my Love can equal it.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I have hearken'd to you, Don <em>Pedro</em>, with
a great deal of Attention, and Heaven's my Witness, I
have a mighty Joy in seeing you; but the Devil fetch
me, it makes my Heart bleed, to hear you are going to
be married.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Say no more of that, I desire you; we have
always been Friends, and I earnestly beg we ever may
be so; but I am not come to ask Counsel about my
Marriage; my Party is taken, and my Inquiries have so
much heightened my Desire, that nothing can henceforth
abate it. I must, therefore, expect from you,
dear Friend, that you won't oppose it, but that you'll
aid me in hast'ning the Moment of my Happiness.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Since 'tis so impossible for you to resolve
for your own Good, I must submit to what you'll have
me: But are not we to know the Name of this Piece of
Rarity, that is to do you this good Turn?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You'll know it presently; for I'm going to
carry you to her House.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> You shall tell me, at least, who are her
two Gallants.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> One, they cou'd not tell me his Name;
t' other is&mdash;&mdash;But before we talk any more of these Affairs,
can you let me dispose of <em>Lopez</em>, till the Return
of a Servant, I sent three Days ago to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Carry News of you to <em>Papa</em>, I suppose.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You are right; the good Man is thirty
Leagues off, and I have not seen him these six Years.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> <em>Lopez</em>, do you wait upon Don <em>Pedro</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> With all my Heart. It's at least a Suspension of
Boxes of the Ear, and Kicks of the Backside.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Then, honest <em>Lopez</em>, with your Master's
Leave, go to the New-Inn, the King of <em>France</em> on
Horseback, and see if my Servant's return'd; I'll be
there immediately, to charge thee with a Commission
of more Importance.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I shall perform your Orders, Sir, both to your
Satisfaction, and my own Reputation.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Very quaint. Well, old Acquaintance,
you are going to be married then? 'Tis resolved: Ha!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> So says my Star.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> The foolishest Star that has said any
Thing a great while.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Still the same, I see! Or, more than ever,
resolv'd to love nothing.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Love nothing! Why, I'm in Love at
this very Time.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> With what?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> A Woman.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Impossible!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> True.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> And how came you in love with her?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why, I was ordered not to be in love
with her.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Then, there's more Humour than Love in't.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> There shall be what you please in't. But
I shan't quit the Gentlewoman, till I have convinced
her there's something in't.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Mayn't I know her Name?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> When you have let me into your conjugal
Affection.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Pray, stay here but till I have sent <em>Lopez</em>
to my Father-in-law; I'll come back, and carry you
with me in a Moment.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I'll expect you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Adieu, dear Friend! May I in earnest see
you quickly in Love!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> May I, without a Jest, see you quickly
a Widower.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">John</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>He comes, he says, to marry a Woman of Quality
that has two Lovers&mdash;&mdash;If it should be <em>Leonora</em>&mdash;&mdash;But,
why she? There are many, I hope, in that Condition
in <em>Valencia</em>&mdash;&mdash;I'm a little embarrass'd about it, however&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Friendship, take heed; if Woman interfere,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Be sure the Hour of thy Destruction's near.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Exit.</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-338.jpg" width="700" height="43" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_II5" id="ACT_II5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Leonora</em>'s Apartment.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>, <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Leon.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">D</span>ear</span> <em>Isabella</em>, come in: How I am plagu'd
with this troublesome Wretch! <em>Jacinta</em>,
have you shut the outer Gates?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I have, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Shut the Window too; we shall have him get
in there, by and bye.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> What's this you are in such Apprehensions of,
pray?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Nothing worth naming.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> You dissemble: Something of Love in the
Case, I'll warrant you.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> The Reverse on't; 'tis Aversion. My Impertinent
Star has furnish'd me with a Lover for my Guard,
who is never from my Window; he persecutes me to
Distraction; I affront him fifty Times a day; which
he receives with a Bow down to the Ground: In short,
all I can do, is doing nothing at all: He still persists
in loving me, as much as I hate him.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Have a Care he don't get the better on't, for
all that; for when a Man loves a Woman well enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>
to persevere, 'tis odds but she at last loves him well
enough to make him give it over. But I think I had
as good take off my Scarf; for, since my Brother Don
<em>Guzman</em> knows I'm with you, he won't quarrel at my
return, for the Length of my Visit.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If he shou'd, I shou'd quarrel with him, which
few Things else wou'd make me do. But methinks,
<em>Isabella</em>, you are a little melancholy.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> And you a little thoughtful.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Pray, tell me your Affliction.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Pray don't conceal yours.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Why, truly, my Heart is not at ease.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Mine, I fear, never will.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> My Father's marrying me against my Inclination.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> My Brother is hind'ring me from marrying with
mine.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You know I love your Brother, Don <em>Guzman</em>.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> And you shall know, I'm uneasy for Don <em>John
de Alvarada</em>.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Don <em>John</em>!</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> The same.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Have you any Reason to hope for a Return?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> I think so.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I'm afraid, my Dear, you abuse yourself.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Why?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Because he is already in Love with&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Who?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Me.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> I wou'd not have you too positive in that, Madam,
for I am very sure that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Madam, I am very sure that he's the troublesome
Guest I just now complain'd of: And you may
believe&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Madam, I can never believe he's troublesome
to any Body.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> O, dear Madam! But I'm sure I'm forc'd to
keep my Windows shut, till I'm almost dead with Heat;
and that, I think, is troublesome.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> This Mistake is easily set right, <em>Leonora</em>; our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>
Houses join, and when he looks at my Window, you
fancy 'tis at your's.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> But, when he attacks my Door, Madam, and
almost breaks it down, I don't know how in the World
to fancy 'tis your's.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> A Man may do that to disguise his real Inclination.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Nay, if you please, believe he's dying for you.
I wish he were; then I shou'd be troubled no more
with him. Be sure, <em>Jacinta</em>, you don't open a Window
to-night.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Not while I'm here, at least; for if he knows
that, he may chance to press in.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Look you, <em>Isabella</em>, 'tis entirely alike to me,
who he's fond of; but I'm so much your Friend, I can't
endure to see you deceiv'd.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> And since I have the same Kindness for you,
<em>Leonora</em>, know, in short, that my Brother is so alarm'd
at his Passion for me, that he has forbid him the Street.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Bless my Soul! and don't you plainly see by
that, he's jealous of him upon my Account?</p>

<p><em>Isa.</em> [<em>Smiling.</em>] He's jealous of his Honour, Madam,
lest he shou'd debauch his Sister.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I say, he's jealous of his Love, lest he shou'd
corrupt his Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> But why all this Heat? If you love my Brother,
why are you concern'd Don <em>John</em> shou'd love me?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I'm not concern'd: I have no Designs upon
him; I care not who he loves.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Why then are you angry?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Why do you say he does not care for me!</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Well, to content you then, I know nothing
certain, but that I love him.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> And to content you; I know nothing so certain,
as that I neither love him, nor ever can love him:
And so I hope we are Friends again.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Kiss me, then, and let us never be otherwise.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Agreed: [<em>They kiss.</em>] And now, my Dear, as my
Misfortune's nearest, I am first to be pity'd; I am the
most wretched Woman living. My Father every Mo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>ment
expects a Gentleman from <em>Flanders</em>, to whom he
has resolv'd to marry me. But neither Duty, nor Prudence,
nor Danger, nor Resolution, nor all I can summon
to my Aid, can drive your Brother from my
Heart; but there he's fix'd to ruin me.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Madam, here's Don <em>Guzman</em> at the Chamber-Door;
he begs so passionately to come in, sure you
can't refuse him.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Heav'ns! But does he consider to what he exposes
me?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Madam, he considers nothing; if he did, I'd
say he were an impudent Fellow, to pretend to be in
Love with you.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Shall I venture, <em>Isabella</em>?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> You know best.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Marry, methinks he knows best of us all, for
here he comes.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Forgive me, lovely <em>Leonora</em>; 'tis the last
Time, perhaps, that I may beg your Pity. My Rival
is not far off: Excess of Modesty is now our Ruin.
Break through it, for this Moment you have left, and
own, to your old Father, how you love. He once
did so himself; our Scene of Sorrow may, perhaps,
recall some small Remembrance of his tender Years, and
melt him into Mercy.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Alas! Don <em>Guzman</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> O Heavens! Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> What's the Matter?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Y' are undone; here's your Father.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> What an unlucky Accident!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Has he seen Don <em>Guzman</em>?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Nay, the deuce knows.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Where shall he hide himself?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> In the Moon, if he can get thither.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I must e'en stand it now.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Good News, my Daughter, good News;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>
I come to acquaint you, that&mdash;&mdash;How now? What's
the Meaning of this? Don <em>Guzman</em> in my Daughter's
Chamber!</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I see your Surprize, Sir, but you need not
be disturb'd; 'twas some sudden Business with my Sister
brought me here.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis enough, Sir: I'm glad to find you
here; you shall be a Witness, that I know how to preserve
the Honour of my Family.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What mean you, Sir?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> To marry <em>Leonora</em> this Moment.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> How say you?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> I say, you shall have nothing left to ask
of me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Is't possible? O Heavens! what Joy I feel!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> <em>Leonora</em>, prepare your Hand and Heart.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> They both are ready, Sir; and in giving me
the Man I love, you charge me with a Debt of Gratitude
can never be repay'd.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> [<em>Kneeling.</em>] Upon my Knees, I thank the
best of Men, for blessing me with all that's blest in
Woman.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> How well that kind, that gentle Look becomes
him!</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Now, methinks he looks like an old Rogue;
I don't like his Looks.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> To all whom it may concern, greeting, Don
<em>Pedro Osorio</em>, acknowledging himself most unworthy of
the Honour intended him, in the Person of the fair
<em>Leonora</em>, addresses himself, by me, his small Ambassador,
to the Generosity of Don <em>Felix</em>, for leave to
walk in and take Possession.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> I had already given Order for his Entrance.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What is't I hear?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Support me.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> She faints.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Look, Tyrant, here, and, if thou can'st,
be cruel!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Holding her.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Bring in Don <em>Pedro</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Barbarian!</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Look up, Madam, for Heaven's sake; since
you must marry the Fellow, e'en make the most on't.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Hoh&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> and Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> So&mdash;&mdash;How d'ye do now? Come, chear up.
See, here he comes. By my Troth, and a pretty turn'd
Fellow. [<em>Aside.</em>] He'll set all to rights by to-morrow
Morning, I'll answer for him.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Don <em>Pedro</em>, you are welcome; let me embrace
you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> In what Terms, Sir, shall I express what
I owe you for the Honour you do me? And with what
Prospect of Return can I receive this inestimable Present?
Your Picture, Madam, made what Impression Art cou'd
stamp, but Nature has done more. What Wounds
your Sex can give, or ours receive, I feel.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Come, Son, (for I'm in haste to call you so)&mdash;&mdash;But
what's this I see? <span class="antiqua">Alvarada</span> here! Whence,
Sir, this Insolence; to come within my Doors, after you
know what has past? Who brought you here?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Twas I, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> But do you know that he&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Sir, he's the best of my Friends.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> But do you know, I say, that he wou'd&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Hinder this Marriage, 'tis true.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Yes, because he design'd&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I know his Design, Sir; 'tis to hinder all
his Friends from marrying. Pray forgive him.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Then to prevent for ever his Designs here,
come hither, <em>Leonora</em>, and give Don <em>Pedro</em> your Hand.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Keep down, my kindling Jealousy: I've
something tortures me I never felt but now.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leo</span>.</em>] Why this Backwardness, Madam?
Where a Father chooses, a Daughter may with Modesty
approve. Pray, give me your Hand.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I cannot see it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Turning from 'em.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leo.</span> aside.</em>] Are you distracted? Will you
let him know your Folly? Give him your Hand, for
Shame.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Hoh! Don <em>Guzman</em>, I am yours.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sighing, and giving carelesly her Hand.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Madam!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Turning.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> What a fatal Slip!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> 'Twas not to you I spoke, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> But him it was she nam'd, and thought on
too, I fear. I'm much alarm'd.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leo</span>.</em>] Repair what you have done, and
look more chearful on him.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Repair what you have done, and kill me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Fool.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Tyrant.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> A very hum-drum Marriage this.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Pray, Sister, let's retire; for I can bear this
Sight no longer.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> My Dear, farewel; I pity you, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I am indeed an Object of your Pity.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Guz.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isab.</span></em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Come, Daughter, come, my Son, let's to the
Church, and tie this happy Knot.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I'll wait upon you, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Fel.</span> leading <span class="antiqua">Leo.</span></em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I love her, and I'll love her still. Fate do
thy worst, I'll on.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> To name another Man, in giving me her
Hand!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How am I rackt and torn with
Jealousy?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Tis doubtless so, Don Guzman has her
Heart.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] The Bridegroom's thoughtful. The
Lady's Trip has furnish'd him with some Matrimonial
Reflections: They'll agree with him at this Time perhaps,
better than my Company. I'll leave him. Don <em>Pedro</em>,
adieu, we shall meet again at Night.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Pray stay: I have need of a Friend's Counsel.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What, already!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Already.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> That's to say, you have already enough
of Matrimony.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I scarce know what I have, nor am I sure
of what I am.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> An't please your Honour, yonder's your Man
<em>Bertrand</em> just arriv'd; his Horse and he are so tired of
one another, that they both came down upon the Pavement
at the Stable-Door.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>] He brings News from my
Father.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I believe he does, and hasty News too; but if
you stay till he brings it hither, I believe it will come but
slowly. But here's his Packet; I suppose that will do
as well as his Company.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives a Letter.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Reads to himself.</em>] My dear friend, here's
ill News.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What's the Matter?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> My poor old Father's dying.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I'm mighty sorry for't; 'tis a weighty
Stroke I must confess; the Burden of his Estate will almost
bear you down. But we must submit to Heaven's
good Will.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You talk, <em>Alvarada</em>, like a perfect Stranger
to that Tenderness methinks every Son shou'd feel
for a good Father: For my part, I've receiv'd such repeated
Proofs of an uncommon Affection from mine, that
the Loss of a Mistress could scarce touch me nearer.
You'll believe me, when you see me leave <em>Leonora</em> a Virgin,
till I have seen the good old Man.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> That will be a Proof, indeed; Heaven's
Blessing must needs fall upon so dutiful a Son; but I
don't know how its Judgments may deal with so indifferent
a Lover.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> O! I shall have Time enough to repair this
seeming small Neglect: But before I go, pray a Word
or two with you alone. <em>Lopez</em>, wait without. [<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lop</span>.</em>]
You see, my dearest Friend, I am engag'd with <em>Leonora</em>;
perhaps I have done wrong; but 'tis gone too far, to
talk or think of a Retreat; I shall I go directly from this
Place to the Altar, and there seal the eternal Contract.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span>
That done, I'll take Post to see my Father, if I can, before
he dies. I leave then here a young and beauteous
Bride; but that which touches every String of Thought,
I fear, I leave her wishing I were <em>Guzman</em>. If it be so,
no doubt he knows it well; and he that knows he's lov'd
by <em>Leonora</em>, can let no fair Occasion pass to gain her;
my Absence is his Friend, but you are mine, and so the
Danger's balanc'd. Into your Hands, my Dear, my
faithful <em>Alvarada</em>, [<em>Embracing him.</em>] I put my Honour,
I put my Life; for both depend on <em>Leonora</em>'s Truth.
Observe her Lover, and&mdash;&mdash;neglect not her. You are
wise, you are active, you are brave and true. You have
all the Qualities that Man shou'd have for such a Trust;
and I by consequence have all the Assurance Man can
have, you'll, as you ought, discharge it.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> A very hopeful Business you wou'd have
me undertake, keep a Woman honest!&mdash;'Sdeath, I'd as
soon undertake to keep <em>Portocarero</em> honest. Look you,
we are Friends, intimate Friends; you must not be angry
if I talk freely. Women are naturally bent to Mischief,
and their Actions run in one continued Torrent till
they die. But the less a Torrent's check'd, the less Mischief
it does; let it alone, perhaps 'twill only kiss the
Banks and pass; but stop it, 'tis insatiable.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I wou'd not stop it; but cou'd I gently
turn its Course where it might run, and vent itself with
Innocence, I wou'd. <em>Leonora</em> of herself is virtuous;
her Birth, Religion, Modesty and Sense, will guide her
Wishes where they ought to point. But yet, let Guards
be what they Will, that Place is safest that is ne'er attack'd.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> As far as I can serve you, in hind'ring
<em>Guzman</em>'s Approaches, you may command me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> That's all I ask.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Then all you ask is granted.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I am at ease, farewel.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Heaven bring you safe to us again.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Ped</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">John</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>Yes, I shall observe her, doubt it not. I wish no body
may observe me, for I find I'm no more Master of myself.
Don <em>Guzman</em>'s Passion for her adds to mine; but
when I think on what Don <em>Pedro</em> will reap, I'm Fire and
Flame. Something must be done: What, let Love direct,
for I have nothing else to guide me.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Don <em>Pedro</em> is mounting for his Journey,
and leaves a young, warm, liquorish Hussy with a watry
Mouth, behind him&mdash;&mdash;Hum&mdash;If she falls handsomely
in my Master's Way, let her look to her&mdash;&mdash;hist&mdash;there
he is. Doing what? Thinking? That's new. And
if any Good comes on't, that will be newer still.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How! Abuse the Trust a Friend
reposes in me? And while he thinks me waking for
his Peace, employ the stretch of Thought to make him
wretched?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Not to interrupt your pious Meditations, Sir,
pray have you seen&mdash;&mdash;Seen what, Fool? Why he can't
see thee. I'gad, I believe the little blind Bastard has
whipt him through the Heart in earnest.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] <em>Pedro</em> wou'd never have done this
by me&mdash;&mdash;How do I know that?&mdash;&mdash;Why&mdash;&mdash;he
swore he was my Friend&mdash;&mdash;Well; and I swore I
was his&mdash;&mdash;Why then if I find I can break my Oath,
why should not I conclude he will do as much by his?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] His Countenance begins to clear up: I
suppose Things may be drawing to a Conclusion.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Ay, 'tis just so: And I don't believe
he wou'd have debated the Matter half so long as I
have done: I'gad I think I have put myself to a great
Expence of Morality about it. I'm sure, at least, my
Stock's out. But I have a Fund of Love, I hope may
last a little longer. O, are you there, Sir!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Seeing <span class="antiqua">Lop</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I think so, Sir; I won't be positive in any thing.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Follow me: I have some Business to employ
you in, you'll like.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I won't be positive in that neither. I guess what
you are going about&mdash;There's Roguery a-foot: This
is at <em>Leonora</em>, who I know hates him; nothing under a
Rape will do't&mdash;&mdash;He'll be hang'd&mdash;&mdash;And then, what
becomes of thee, my little <em>Lopez</em>?&mdash;&mdash;Why, the Honour
to a&mdash;&mdash;dingle dangle by him. Which he'll have
the Good-nature to be mighty sorry for. But I may
chance to be beforehand with him: If we are not taken
in the Fact, they'll perhaps do him the Honour to set
a Reward upon his Head. Which if they do, Don, I
shall go near to follow your moral Example, secure my
Pardon, make my Fortune, and hang you up for the
Good of your Country.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-348.jpg" width="700" height="41" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_III5" id="ACT_III5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Don</em> Felix's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>, Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>, <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">H</span>ow</span>, Son! oblig'd to leave us immediately,
say you?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> My ill Fortune, Sir, will have it so.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] What can this be?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Pray, what's the Matter? You surprise me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> This Letter, Sir, will inform you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> [Reads.] <em>My dear Son, <span class="antiqua">Bertrand</span> has brought
me the welcome News of your Return, and has given me
your Letter; which has in some Sort reviv'd my Spirits in
the Extremity I am in. I daily expect my Exit from this
World. 'Tis now six Years since I have seen you; I shou'd
be glad to do it once again before I die: If you will give
me that Satisfaction, you must be speedy. Heaven preserve
you.</em></p>

<p>[<em><span class="antiqua">To Don</span> Ped.</em>] 'Tis enough: The Occasion I'm sorry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>
for, but since the Ties of Blood and Gratitude oblige
you, far be it from me to hinder you. Farewel, my Son,
may you have a happy Journey; and if it be Heaven's
Will, may the sight of so good a Son revive so kind a
Father. I leave you to bid your Wife adieu.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Don</span> Fel.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I must leave you, my lovely Bride; but
'tis with bitter Pangs of Separation. Had I your Heart
to chear me on my Way, I might with such a Cordial
run my Course: But that Support you want the Power
to give me.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Who tells you so?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> My Eyes and Ears, and all the Pains I bear.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> When Eyes and Ears are much indulg'd, like
favourite Servants they are apt to abuse the too much
Trust their Master places in 'em.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> If I'm abus'd, assist me with some fair Interpretation
of all that present Trouble and Disquiet,
which is not in my Power to overlook, nor yours to hide.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You might methinks have spar'd my Modesty;
and without forcing me to name your Absence, have laid
my Trouble there.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> No, no, my Fair Deluder, that's a Veil too
thin to cover what's so hard to hide; my Presence not
my Absence is the Cause. Your cold Reception at my
first Approach, prepar'd me for the Stroke; and 'twas
not long before your Mouth confirmed my Doom: Don
<em>Guzman</em>, I am yours.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Is't then possible the Mouth shou'd utter one
Name for another?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Not at all, when it follows the Dictates of
the Heart.&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Were it even so, what Wrong is from that
Heart receiv'd, where Duty and where Virtue are its
Rulers?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Where they preside, our Honour may be
safe, yet our Minds be on the Rack.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> This Discourse will scarce produce a Remedy;
we'll end it, therefore, if you please, and leave the rest to
Time: Besides, the Occasion of your Journey presses you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> The Occasion of my Delay presses you, I
fear, much more; you count the tedious Minutes I am
with you, and are reduc'd to mind me of my Duty, to
free yourself from my Sight.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You urge this thing too far, and do me wrong.
The Sentiments I have for you are much more favourable
than your Jealousy suffers 'em to appear. But if
my Heart has seem'd to lean another way, before you
had a Title to it, you ought not to conclude I shall suffer
it to do so long.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I know you have Virtue, Gratitude and
Truth; and therefore 'tis I love you to my Ruin.
Cou'd I believe you false, Contempt would soon release
me from my Chains, which yet I can't but wish to wear
for ever: therefore indulge at least your Pity to your
Slave; 'tis the soft Path in which we tread to Love.
I leave behind a tortur'd Heart to move you:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Weigh well its Pains, think on its Passion too,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Remember all its Torments spring from you;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And if you cannot love, at least be true.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Now by my troth, Madam, I'm ready to cry.
He's a pretty Fellow, and deserves better Luck.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I own he does: And his Behaviour wou'd engage
any thing that were unengag'd. But, alas! I want
his Pity more than he does mine.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> You do! Now I'm of another Mind. The Moment
he sees your Picture, he's in love with you; the
Moment he's in love with you, he imbarks; and, like
Lightning, in a Moment more, he's here: Where you
are pleas'd to receive him with a Don <em>Guzman, I am
yours</em>. Ah&mdash;&mdash;poor Man!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I own, <em>Jacinta</em>, he's unfortunate, but still I say
my Fate is harder yet. The irresistible Passion I have
for <em>Guzman</em>, renders Don <em>Pedro</em>, with all his Merit, odious
to me; yet I must in his favour, make eternal War
against the Strength of Inclination and the Man I love.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Um&mdash;&mdash;If I were in her Case, I cou'd
find an Expedient for all this Matter. But she makes such
a Bustle with her Virtue, I dare not propose it to her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Besides, Don <em>Pedro</em> possesses what he loves, but I
must never think on poor Don <em>Guzman</em> more.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Weeping.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Poor Don <em>Guzman</em>, indeed! We han't said a
Word of the Pickle he's in yet. Hark! somebody
knocks&mdash;&mdash;at the old Rendezvous. It's he, on my
Conscience.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Let's be gone; I must think of him no more.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Yes, let's be gone; but let's know whether 'tis
he or not, first.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> No, <em>Jacinta</em>; I must not speak with him any
more. [<em>Sighing.</em>] I'm married to another.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Married to another! Well, Married to another;
why, if one were married to twenty others, one may
give a civil Gentleman an Answer.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Alas! what would'st thou have me to say to him?</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Say to him! Why, one may find twenty Things
to say to a Man: Say, that 'tis true you are married to
another, and that 'twould be a&mdash;Sin to think of any
Body but your Husband; and that&mdash;&mdash;you are of a timorous
Nature, and afraid of being damn'd; and that
a&mdash;&mdash;You wou'd not have him die neither: That a&mdash;&mdash;Folks
are mortal, and Things sometimes come
strangely about, and a Widow's a Widow, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Peace, Levity [<em>Sighing.</em>] But see who 'tis
knocks.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Who's there?</p>

<p><em>Isa.</em> [<em>Behind the Scenes.</em>] 'Tis I, <em>Isabella</em>.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> <em>Isabella!</em> What do you want, my Dear?</p>

<p><em>Isa.</em> Your Succour, for Heaven's sake, <em>Leonora</em>. My
Brother will destroy himself.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Alas! it is not in my power to save him.</p>

<p><em>Isa.</em> Permit him but to speak to you; that possibly
may do.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Why have not I the Force to refuse him?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> [<em>Behind the Scenes.</em>] Is it you I hear, my
poor lost Mistress? Am I so happy, once more to meet
you, where I so often have been blest!</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Courage, Madam, say a little something to him.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Not one kind Word to a distracted Lover?
No Pity for a Wretch, you have made so miserable?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> The only Way to end that Misery, is to forget
we ever thought of Happiness!</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> And is that in your Power? Ah, <em>Leonora</em>,
you ne'er lov'd like me.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> How I have lov'd, to Heaven I appeal! But
Heaven does now permit that Love no more.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Why does it then permit us Life and
Thought? Are we deceiv'd in its Omnipotence? Is it
reduc'd to find its Pleasures in its Creatures Pain?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> In what, or where, the Joys of Heaven consist,
lies deeper than a Woman's Line can fathom; but
this we know, a Wife must in her Husband seek for
hers, and, therefore, I must think of you no more.&mdash;&mdash;Farewel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Leo</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Yet hear me, cruel <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> It must be another Time, then, for she's whipt
off now. All the Comfort I can give you, is, that I
see she durst not trust herself any longer in your Company.
But hush, I hear a Noise, get you gone; we
shall be catch'd.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] <em>Jacinta!</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> I come, I come, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Jac</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> If I mistake not, there are a Brace of Lovers intend
to take some Pains about Madam, in her Husband's
Absence. Poor Don <em>Pedro</em>! Well; methinks a Man's
in a very merry Mood, that marries a handsome Wife:
When I dispose of my Person, it shall be to an ugly
one. They take it so kindly, and are so full of Acknowledgment;
watch you, wait upon you, nurse you, humour
you, are so fond, and so chaste. Or, if the Hussy
has Presumption enough to think of being otherwise,
away with her into the Mountains, fifty Leagues off; no
Body opposes. If she's mutinous, give her Discipline;
every Body approves on't. Hang her, says one, he's
kinder than she deserves: Damn her, says another,
why does not he starve her? But, if she's handsome,
Ah, the Brute, cries one: Ah the <em>Turk</em>, cries t'other:
Why don't she cuckold him, says this Fellow? Why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>
does not she poison him, says that? and away comes a
Pacquet of Epistles, to advise her to't. Ah poor Don
<em>Pedro</em>! But enough: 'Tis now Night, all's hush and
still: every Body's a-bed, and what am I to do? Why,
as other trusty Domesticks, sit up to let the Thief in.
But I suppose he won't be here yet; with the help of a
small Nap beforehand, I shall be in a better Condition
to perform the Duty of a Centinel, when I go to my
Post. This Corner will just fit me: Come, <em>Lopez</em>, lie
thee down, short Prayers, and to sleep.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He lies down.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span> with a Candle in her Hand.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> So, I have put my poor Lady to Bed, with nothing
but Sobs, Tears, Sighs, Wishes, and a Pillow to
mumble, instead of a Bridegroom, poor Heart.&mdash;&mdash;I
pity her; but every Body has their Afflictions, and
by the Beads of my Grandmother, I have mine. Tell
me, kind Gentlemen, if I have not something to excite
you? Methinks I have a rogueish Eye, I'm sure I
have a melting Heart. I'm soft, and warm, and sound,
may it please ye. Whence comes it then, this Rascal
<em>Lopez</em>, who now has been two Hours in the Family, has
not yet thought it worth his while, to make one Motion
towards me? Not that the Blockhead's Charms have
moved me, but I'm angry mine han't been able to
move him. I doubt, I must begin with the Lubber:
my Reputation's at stake upon't, and I must rouze the
Drone, somehow.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Lopez</span> rubbing his Eyes, and coming on.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What a damn'd Condition is that of a Valet!
No sooner do I, in comfortable Slumber, close my
Eyes, but methinks my Master's upon me, with fifty
Slaps o' th' Back, for making him wait in the Street.
I have his Orders to let him in here to-night, and so I
had e'en&mdash;&mdash;Who's that?&mdash;&mdash;<em>Jacinta!</em>&mdash;&mdash;Yes, a-caterwauling!&mdash;like
enough.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> The Fellow's there; I had best not lose the
Occasion.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> The Slut's handsome. I begin to kindle: But
if my master shou'd be at the Door&mdash;&mdash;Why there let
him be, till the Matter's over.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Shall I advance?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Shall I venture?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> How severe a Look he has!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> She seems very reserv'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> If he shou'd put the Negative upon me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> She seems a Woman of great Discretion; I
tremble.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Hang it, I must venture.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Faint Heart never won fair Lady.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> <em>Lopez</em>!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <em>Jacinta</em>!</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> O dear Heart! Is't you?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Charming <em>Jacinta</em>, fear me not.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> O ho! he begins to talk soft&mdash;&mdash;then let us
take upon us again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Cruel <em>Jacinta</em>, whose Mouth (small as it is) has
made but one Morsel of my Heart.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> It's well he prevents me. I was going to leap
about the Rascal's Neck.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Barbare <em>Jacinta</em>, cast your Eyes
On your poor <em>Lopez</em>, ere he dies.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Poetry too! Nay then I have done his Business.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Feel how I burn with hot desire,
Ah! pity me, and quench my Fire.
Deaf, my fair Tyrant, deaf to my Woes!
Nay, then, Barbarian, in it goes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drawing a Knife.</em></p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Why, how now, Jack Sauce? why, how now,
Presumption? What Encouragement have I given you,
Jack-a-lent, to attack me with your Tenders? I cou'd
tear your Eyes out, Sirrah, for thinking I'm such a
one. What Indecency have you seen in my Behaviour,
Impudence, that you shou'd think me for your beastly
Turn, you Goat, you?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Patience, my much offended Goddess, 'tis honourably
I wou'd share your Bed.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Peace, I say&mdash;Mr. <em>Liquorish</em>. I, for whom the
most successful Cavaliers employ their Sighs in vain,
shall I look down upon a crawling Worm? Pha&mdash;See<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span>
that Crop Ear there, that Vermin that wants to eat at
a Table, would set his Master's Mouth a-watering.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> May I presume to make an humble Meal upon
what savoury Remnants he may leave?</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis hard! 'tis wondrous hard!</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Leave me.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis pitiful, 'tis wondrous pitiful!</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> Begone, I say.
Thus, Ladies 'tis, perhaps, sometimes with you;
With Scorn you fly the Thing, which you pursue.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Jac</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Solus.</em>] 'Tis very well, Mrs. Flipflap, 'tis very
well; but do you hear&mdash;&mdash;Tawdry, you are not so
alluring as you think you are&mdash;&mdash;Comb-brush, nor I
so much in love&mdash;&mdash;your Maidenhead may chance to
grow mouldy with your Airs&mdash;the Pox be your Bedfellow;
there's that for you. Come, let's think no more
on't. Sailors must meet with Storms; my Master's
going to Sea, too. He may chance to fare no better
with the Lady, than I have done with her <em>Abigail</em>:
There may be foul Weather there, too. I reckon, at
present, he may be lying by under a Mizen, at the
Street-Door; I think it rains too, for his Comfort.
What if I shou'd leave him there an Hour or two, in
fresco, and try to work off the Amour that Way? No;
People will be physick'd their own Way. But, perhaps,
I might save his Life by't&mdash;&mdash;yes, and have
my Bones broke, for being so officious; therefore, if
you are at the Door, Don John, walk in, and take
your Fortune.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Opens the Door.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Hist! hist!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Hist! hist!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> <em>Lopez</em>!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] The Devil&mdash;Tread softly.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Are they all asleep?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Dead.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Enough; shut the Door.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis done.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Now, begone.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What! Shut the Door first, and then begone!
Now, methinks, I might as well have gone first, and
then shut the Door.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I bid you begone, you Dog, you, do you
find the way.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Stark mad, and always so when a Woman's
in chace. But, Sir, will you keep your chief
Minister out of the Secrets of your State? Pray, let me
know what this Night's Work is to be.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> No Questions, but march.</p>

<p class="directright">[Lop. <em>goes to the Door, and returns</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Very well&mdash;&mdash;
But, Sir, shall I stay for you in the Street?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> No, nor stir out of the House.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> So: well, Sir, I'll do just as you have order'd
me; I'll be gone, and I'll stay; and I'll march, and
I won't stir, and&mdash;just as you say, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I see you are afraid, you Rascal, you.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Possibly.</p>

<p>Don <em>John</em>. Well, be it so; but you shan't leave the
House, Sir; therefore, begone to your Hogstye, and
wait further Orders.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] But, first, I'll know how you intend to
dispose of yourself.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Lop.</span> hides behind the Door.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">John</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> All's hush and still; and I am at the
Point of being a happy&mdash;&mdash;Villain. That Thought
comes uninvited&mdash;&mdash;Then, like an uninvited Guest,
let it be treated: Begone, Intruder. <em>Leonora</em>'s Charms
turn Vice to Virtue, Treason into Truth; Nature,
who has made her the supreme Object of our Desires,
must needs have designed her the Regulator of our
Morals. Whatever points at her, is pointed right.
We are all her due, Mankind's the Dower which Heaven
has settled on her; and he's the Villain that would
rob her of her Tribute. I, therefore, as in Duty
bound, will in, and pay her mine.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] There he goes, i'faith; he seem'd as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>
if he had a Qualm just now; but he never goes without
a Dram of Conscience-Water about him, to set
Matters right again.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This is her Door, 'tis lock'd; but
I have a Smith about me will make her Staple fly.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pulls out some Irons, and forces the Lock.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Hark! hark! if he is not equipt for a
Housebreaker, too. Very well, he has provided two
Strings to his Bow; if he 'scapes the Rape, he may be
hang'd upon the Burglary.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] There, 'tis done, so: No Watch-Light
burning? [<em>Peeping into her Chamber.</em>] All in
darkness? So much the better, 'twill save a great deal
of blushing on both Sides. Methinks I feel myself
mighty modest, I tremble too; that's not proper at
this Time. Be firm, my Courage, I have Business for
thee&mdash;So&mdash;How am I now? Pretty well. Then by
your Leave, Don <em>Pedro</em>, I must supply your Neglect.
You should not have married till you were ready for
Consummation; a Maidenhead ought no more to lie
upon a handsome Bride, than an Impeachment upon
an innocent Minister.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Don</span> John enters the Chamber.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Coming forwards.</em>] Well done, well done;
God-a-mercy, my little <em>Judas</em>. Unfortunate Don
<em>Pedro</em>! thou hast left thy Purse in the Hands of a
Robber; and while thou art galloping to pay the last
Duty to thy Father, he's at least upon the Trot to pay
the first to thy Wife. Ah the Traitor! What a <em>Capilotade</em>
of Damnation will there be cook'd up for him!
But softly: Let's lay our Ear to the Door, and pick up
some Curiosities&mdash;&mdash;I hear no Noise&mdash;&mdash;There's no
Light; we shall have him blunder where he should not
do, by and by&mdash;&mdash;commit a Rape upon her Tea-Table,
perhaps, break all her China, and then she'll
be sure to hang him. But hark&mdash;now I hear&mdash;nothing;
she does not say a Word; she sleeps curiously.
How if she shou'd take it all for a Dream, now? Or
her Virtue shou'd be fallen into an Apoplexy? Where
the Pox will all this end?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] <em>Jacinta</em>! <em>Beatrix</em>! <em>Fernandez</em>!
Murder! Murder! help! help! help!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Now the Play begins, it opens finely.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] Father! <em>Alphonso!</em> Save me, O save
me!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Comedy or Tragedy, for a Ducat! for fear of
the latter, decamp <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>changes to <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>'s Bed-Chamber;
discovers <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span> in a Gown, holding Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>
by the Sleeve.</em></h4>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Whoever you are, Villain, you shan't escape
me; and tho' your Efforts have been in vain, you
shan't fail to receive the Recompence of your Attempt:
Help, ho, help there! help!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Don <span class="antiqua">John</span> breaks from her, but can't find the Door.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] S'death, I shall be undone!
Where is this damn'd Door?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> He'll get away: a Light there, quickly.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span> with his Sword drawn.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Where are you, fair Angel? I come to
lose my Life in your Defence.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] That's <em>Guzman</em>'s Voice? The
Devil has sent him: But we are still in the dark; I
have one <em>Tour</em> yet&mdash;Impudence, be my Aid. Light
there, ho! Where is the Villain that durst attempt the
virtuous <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> His Life shall make her Satisfaction.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Or mine shall fall in his pursuit.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> 'Tis by my Hands that she shall see
him die.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> My Sword shall lay him bleeding at her
Feet.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] What can this mean? But here's Light
at last, thank the just bounteous Heaven.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Enter with the Light there; but secure
the Door, lest the Traitor 'scape my Vengeance.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>, with a Light, he finds <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span> between
them; both their Swords drawn.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> O Heavens! what is't I see?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Don <em>Pedro</em> here!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What monstrous Scene is this?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What Accident has brought him here?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> How I'm intrigu'd, indeed.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> steps back and shuts the Door.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] This Mystery must unfold before
we part. What Torments has my Fate provided me?
Is this the Comfort I'm to reap, to dry my Tears, for
my poor Father's death? [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leo</span>.</em>] Ah <em>Leonora</em>!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Alas! where will this end!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Falling into a Chair.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Naked! and thus attended at the
dead of Night! My Soul is froze at what I see. Confusion
sits in all their Faces, and in large Characters I
read the Ruin of my Honour and my Love.</p>

<p>[<em>To the Men.</em>] Speak, Statues, if you yet have Power
to speak, why at this Time of Night you are found with
<em>Leonora</em>?&mdash;&mdash;None speak! Don <em>John</em>, it is from you I
ought to know.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> My Silence may inform you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Your Silence does inform me of my Shame,
but I must have some Information more; explain the
whole.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I shall. You remember, Don <em>Pedro</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Be quick.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> You remember you charged me before
you went&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I remember well; go on.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> With the Care of your Honour.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I did; dispatch.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Very well; you see Don <em>Guzman</em> in this
Apartment, you see your Wife naked, and you see me,
my Sword in my Hand;&mdash;that's all.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Drawing upon Don <span class="antiqua">Guz</span>.</em>] 'Tis here, then,
I am to revenge my Wrongs.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Hold.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Villain, defend thyself.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> O Heaven!</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Yet hear me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What canst thou say?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> The Truth, as holy Heaven itself is
Truth! I heard the Shrieks and Cries of <em>Leonora</em>; what
the Occasion was I knew not; but she repeated them
with so much Vehemence, I found, whatever her Distress
might be, her Succour must be sudden; so leapt
the Wall that parts our Houses, and flew to her Assistance.
Don <em>John</em> can, if he please, inform you more.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Mankind's a Villain, and this
may be true; yet 'tis too monstrous for a quick Conception.
I shou'd be cautious how I wrong Don <em>John</em>.
Sure 'tis not right to balance. I yet have but their
Words against their Words; I know Don <em>John</em> for my
Friend, and <em>Guzman</em> for my Rival. What can be clearer?
Yet hold! If <em>Leonora</em>'s innocent, she may untangle all.
Madam, I shou'd be glad to know (if I have so much
Interest left) which Way your Evidence will point my
Sword.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> My Lord, I'm in the same Perplexity with you:
All I can say is this; one of them came to force me,
t'other to save me: but the Night confounding the
Villainy of the Guilty with the Generosity of the Innocent,
I still am ignorant to which I owe my Gratitude,
or my Resentment.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But, Madam, did you not hear me cry,
I came to help you?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I own it.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> And did you not hear me threaten to destroy
the Author of your Fears?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I can't deny it.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What can there be more to clear me?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Or me?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Yet one's a Villain still.</p>

<p>[<em>Aside.</em>] My Confusion but increases; yet why confus'd?
It is, it must be <em>Guzman</em>. But how came Don
<em>John</em> here? Right. <em>Guzman</em> has said how he came to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>
her Aid, but <em>Alvarada</em> cou'd not enter but by Treason.
Then perish&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em>. Who?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Who?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Just Gods, instruct me who!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don. <span class="antiqua">Felix</span> knocks.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] Let me in, open the Door.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> 'Tis my Father.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> No Matter; keep the Door fast.
[<em>Aside.</em>] I'll have this Matter go no further, till I can
reach the Depth on't. Don <em>Guzman</em>, leave the House;
I must suspend my Vengeance for a Time.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I obey you; but I'll lose my Life, or
shew my Innocence.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Guz</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] Open the Door; why am I kept
out?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Don <em>John</em>, follow me by this back Way.
And you, <em>Leonora</em>, retire.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside, following Don <span class="antiqua">Ped</span>.</em>] If Don <em>Guzman</em>'s
Throat were cut, would not this Bustle end?&mdash;Yes&mdash;&mdash;Why
then, if his Throat be not cut, may this
Bustle end me!</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-361.jpg" width="700" height="41" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_IV5" id="ACT_IV5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Don</em> Guzman's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Galindo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> <em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">G</span>alindo!</span></em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Musing.</em></p>

<p><em>Gal.</em> Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Try if you can see <em>Jacinta</em>, let her privately
know I wou'd fain speak with her.</p>

<p><em>Gal.</em> It shall be done, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit. <span class="antiqua">Gal</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>Sure Villainy and Impudence were never on the
Stretch before! This Traitor has racked them till<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>
they crack. To what a Plunge the Villain's <em>Tour</em> has
brought me. <em>Pedro</em>'s Resentment must at last be pointed
here: But that's a Trifle; had he not ruin'd me
with <em>Leonora</em>, I easily had pass'd him by the rest.&mdash;&mdash;What's
to be done? Which Way shall I convince her
of my Innocence? The Blood of him who has dar'd
declare me Guilty, may satisfy my Vengeance, but not
aid my Love. No; I'm lost with her for ever&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Speak: is't not so, <em>Jacinta</em>? Am I not ruin'd with
the virtuous <em>Leonora</em>?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> One of you, I suppose, is.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Which dost thou think?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why he that came to spoil all; who shou'd
it be?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Pr'ythee be serious with me if thou can'st,
for one small Moment, and advise me which Way I
shall take to convince her of my Innocence, that it was
I that came to do her Service.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why, you both came to do her Service, did
not you?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Still trifling.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> No, by my Troth, not I.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Then turn thy Thoughts to ease me in
my Torment, and be my faithful Witness to her, that
Heaven and Hell and all their Wrath I imprecate, if
ever once I knew one fleeting Thought that durst propose
to me so impious an Attempt. No, <em>Jacinta</em>, I
love her well; but love with that Humility, whatever
Misery I feel, my Torture ne'er shall urge me on to
seize more than her Bounty gives me leave to take.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And the Murrain take such a Lover, and his
Humility both, say I. Why, sure, Sir, you are not
in earnest in this Story; are you?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Why dost thou question it?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Because I really and seriously thought you innocent.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Innocent! What dost thou mean?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Mean! Why, what shou'd I mean? I mean
that I concluded you lov'd my Lady to that Degree,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span>
you cou'd not live without her: And that the Thought
of her being given up to another, made your Passion
flame out like Mount <em>Etna</em>: That upon this your
Love got the Bridle in his Teeth, and ran away with
you into her Chamber, where that impertinent Spy
upon her and you, Don <em>John</em>, follow'd, and prevented
farther Proofs of your Affection.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Why, sure&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why, sure, thus I thought it was, and thus
she thinks it is. If you have a Mind in the Depth of
your Discretion, to convince her of your Innocence&mdash;May
your Innocence be your Reward! I'm sure were I
in her Place, you shou'd never have any other from me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Was there then no Merit in flying to her
Assistance when I heard her Cries?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> As much as the Constable and the Watch
might have pretended to&mdash;something to drink.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> This is all Raillery; 'tis, impossible she
can be pleas'd with such an Attempt.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> 'Tis impossible she can be pleas'd with being
reduc'd to make the Attempt upon you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But was this a proper Way to save her
Blushes?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> 'Twas in the dark; that's one Way.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But it must look like downright Violation.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> If it did not feel like it, what did that signify?
Come, Sir, Waggery apart: You know I'm
your Servant; I have given you Proofs on't. Therefore,
don't distrust me now, if I tell you, this Quarrel
may be made up with the Wife, tho' perhaps not with
the Husband. In short, she thinks you were first in her
Chamber, and has not the worse Opinion of you for
it; she makes Allowance for your Sufferings, and has
still Love enough for you, not to be displeas'd with
the utmost Proofs you can give, that you have still a
warm Remain for her.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> If this be true, and that she thought 'twas
me, why did me cry out to expose me?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Because at this Time she did not think 'twas
you. Will that content you? And now she does think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>
'twas you, your Business is to let her think so on; for,
in a Word, I can see she's concern'd at the Danger she
has brought you into, and, I believe, wou'd be heartily
glad to see you well out on't.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em>&mdash;&mdash;'Tis impossible she can forgive me.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Oons&mdash;Now Heaven forgive me, for I had a
great Oath upon the very Tip of my Tongue; you'd
make one mad with your Impossibles, and your Innocence,
and your Humilities. 'Sdeath, Sir, do you think
a Woman makes no Distinction between the Assaults of
a Man she likes and one she don't? My Lady hates Don
<em>John</em>, and if she thought 'twas he had done this Job,
she'd hang him for't in her own Garters; she likes you,
and if you shou'd do such another, you might still die
in your Bed like a Bishop, for her.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Well, I'll dispute no farther. I put myself
into thy Hands. What am I to do next?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why, do as she bids you; be in the Way at
the old Rendezvous, she'll take the first Occasion she
can to speak to you; and when you meet, do as I bid
you, and instead of your Innocent and Humble, be
Guilty and Resolute. Your Mistress is now marry'd,
Sir; consider that. She has chang'd her Situation, and
so must you your Battery. Attack a Maid gently, a
Wife warmly, and be as rugged with a Widow as you
can. Good bye t'ye, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt several Ways.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Don</em> Felix's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">In</span> what Distraction have I past this Night! Sure I
shall never close my Eyes again! No Rack can equal
what I feel. Wounded in both my Honour and my
Love; they have pierc'd me in two tender Parts. Yet
cou'd I take my just Revenge, it wou'd in some Degree
assuage my Smart. O! guide me Heaven to that
Cordial drop.&mdash;&mdash;Hold! A Glance of Light I think
begins to&mdash;&mdash;Yes&mdash;&mdash;Right. When Yesterday I
brought Don <em>John</em> hither, was not Don <em>Felix</em> much
disturb'd?&mdash;&mdash;He was; and why?&mdash;&mdash;That may be
worth enquiring. But something more occurs. At my
Arrival in this City, was I not told that two Cavaliers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>
were warm in the Pursuit of <em>Leonora</em>? One I remember
well, they nam'd, 'twas <em>Guzman</em>: The other, I am
yet a Stranger to. I fear I shall not be so long&mdash;&mdash;'Tis
<em>Alvarada</em>! O the Traitor! yet I may wrong him
much. I have <em>Guzman</em>'s own Confession that he past
the Wall to come to <em>Leonora</em>&mdash;&mdash;O! but 'twas to her
Assistance&mdash;&mdash;And so it might, and he a Villain still.&mdash;There
are Assistances of various Sorts&mdash;&mdash;What were
her Wants?&mdash;That's dark&mdash;But whatsoe'er they were,
he came to her Assistance. Death be his Portion, for
his ready Service.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> You avoid me, Don <em>Pedro</em>; 'tis not well.
Am I not your Father, have you not Reason to believe
I am your Friend?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I have.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Why do you not then treat me like a Father
and a Friend? The Mystery you make to me of
last Night's Disturbance, I take unkindly from you.&mdash;Come,
tell me your Grief, that if I can I may assuage it.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Nothing but Vengeance can give me ease.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> If I desire to know your Wrongs, 'tis to assist
you in revenging 'em.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Know then, that last Night in this Apartment
I found Don <em>Guzman</em> and Don <em>John</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> <em>Guzman</em> and <em>Alvarada</em>?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Yes; and <em>Leonora</em> almost naked between
them, crying out for Aid.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Were they both guilty?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> One was come to force her, t'other to rescue
her.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Which was the Criminal?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Of that I am yet ignorant. They accuse
each other.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Can't your Wife determine it?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> The Darkness of the Night put it out of
her Power.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> But I perhaps may bring some Light to aid
you. I have Part in the Affront: And tho' my Arm's
too old and weak to serve you, my Counsel may be use<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>ful
to your Vengeance. Know then, that Don <em>Guzman</em>
has a long Time pursu'd my Daughter; and I as resolutely
refus'd his Suit; which, however, has not hindered
him from searching all Occasions to see and speak
to her. Don <em>John</em>, on his Side&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Don <em>John</em>'s my Friend, and I am confident&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That Confidence destroys you. Hear my
Charge, and be yourself his Judge. He too has been
a pressing Suitor to my Daughter.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Impossible!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> To me myself, he has own'd his Love to
her.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em>. Good Gods! Yet still this leaves the Mystery
where it was; this Charge is equal.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis true; but yonder's one (if you can
make her speak) I have Reason, to believe can tell us
more.&mdash;&mdash;Ho, <em>Jacinta</em>!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Do you call me, Sir?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Yes; Don <em>Pedro</em> wou'd speak with you.
[<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> aside.</em>] I'll leave you with her; press her;
press her both by Threats and Promises, and if you find
your Wife in Fault, old as I am, her Father too, I'll
raise my Arm to plunge this Dagger in her Breast, and
by that Firmness convince the world, my Honour's
dearer to me than my Child.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Fel</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Heaven grant me Power to stifle
my Rage, till 'tis Time to let my Vengeance fly.
<em>Jacinta</em>, come near: I have some Business with you.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] His Business with me at this Time
can be good for nothing, I doubt.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> [<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Ped</span>.</em>] What Commands have you, Sir,
for me? I'm not very well.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What's your Disorder?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> A little Sort of a something towards an Ague,
I think.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You don't seem so ill, but you may tell me&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> O, I can tell you nothing, Sir, I assure you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You answer me before yon hear my Question.
That looks as if you knew&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I know that what you are going to ask me, is a
Secret I'm out at.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Offering her a Purse.</em>] Then this shall let
thee into it.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I know nothing of the Matter.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Come, tell me all, and take thy Reward.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I know nothing of the Matter, I say.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Drawing his Sword.</em>] Speak; or by all the
Flame and Fire of Hell Eternal&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> O Lard, O Lard, O Lard!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Speak, or th'art dead.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> But if I do speak, shan't I be dead for all that?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Speak, and thou art safe.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Well&mdash;O Lard&mdash;I'm so frighted&mdash;But if I
must speak then&mdash;O dear Heart&mdash;give me the Purse.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> There.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why truly, between a Purse in one's Hand&mdash;and&mdash;a
Sword in one's Guts, I think there's little room
left for Debate.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Come begin, I'm impatient.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Begin! let me see, where shall I begin? At
Don <em>Guzman</em>, I think.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What of him?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why he has been in love with my Lady these
six Years.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I know it; but how has she received him?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Receive him! Why&mdash;as young Maids use to
receive handsome Fellows; at first ill, afterwards better.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Furies!
Did they ever meet?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> A little.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> By Day or Night?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Both.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Distraction! Where was their Rendezvous?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Where they cou'd not do one another much
good.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> As how?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> As through a Hole in a Wall.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> The Strumpet banters me: Be serious, Insolence,
or I shall spoil your Gaiety; I'm not dispos'd to
Mirth.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why I am serious, if you like my Story the
better for't.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How miserable a Wretch am I!</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I tell you there's a Wall parts their two Houses,
and in that Wall there's a Hole. How the Wall came
by the Hole, I can't tell; mayhap by chance, mayhap
by no chance; but there 'tis, and there they use to
prattle.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> And this is Truth?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I can't bate you a Word on't, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> When did they meet there last?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Yesterday; I suppose 'twas only to bid one
another adieu.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Ah, <em>Jacinta</em>, thou hast pierced my Soul!</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] And yet I han't told you half I cou'd
tell you, my Don.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Where is this Place you speak of?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> There 'tis, if you are curious.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> When they wou'd speak with one another;
what's the Call?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Tinkle, Tinkle.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> A Bell?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> It is.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Ring.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> What do you mean, Sir?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Hastily.</em>] Ring.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> 'Tis done.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'll make use of her to examine
him. Does he come?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Not yet.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Pull again.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> You must give him Time, Sir: My Lady always
does so.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I hear something.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> 'Tis he.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] Who's there?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em>.. [<em>Softly.</em>] Say you are <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Dumb Shew of her Unwillingness and his Threatning.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> [<em>Softly.</em>] 'Tis <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What are your Commands, Madam? Is
it possible so unfortunate a Wretch as I can be capable
of serving you?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Don</span> Ped. whispers <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>, who seems backwards to
speak.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I come to ask you, how cou'd you so far forget
that infinite Regard you have professed, as to make an
Attempt so dangerous both to yourself and me; and
which, with all the Esteem and Love I have ever borne
you, you scarce cou'd hope I ever shou'd forgive you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Alas! my Hopes and Fears were vanish'd
too. My Counsel was my Love and my Despair. If
they advis'd me wrong, of them complain, for it was
you who made 'em my Directors.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] The Villain owns the Fact. It
seems he thinks he has not so much to fear from her Resentment.&mdash;&mdash;O
Torture!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] So, she's here; that's as I expected:
now we are blown up.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Aside, not seeing them.</em>] If I don't mistake, I
heard Don <em>Guzman</em>'s Call. I can't refuse to answer it.
Forgive me, Gods, and let my Woman's Weakness plead
my Cause.&mdash;How! my Husband here! Nay then&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You seem disorder'd, Madam; pray, what
may be the Cause?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Confus'd.</em>] I don't know, really; I'm not&mdash;&mdash;I
don't know that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You did not know that I was here, I guess?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Yes, I did, and&mdash;&mdash;came to speak with you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I'm not at present in a talking Humour,
but if your Tongue is set to Conversation, there's one
behind the Wall will entertain you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> But is it possible, fair <em>Leonora</em>, that you
can pardon my Attempt?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>To Leo.</em>] You hear him, Madam; he dares
own it to you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] <em>Jacinta</em> winks; I guess what Scene
they have been acting here. My Part is now to play.</p>

<p>[<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Ped</span>.</em>] I see, Sir, he dares own it: Nor is he
the first lover has pressum'd beyond the Countenance he
ever has receiv'd. Pray draw near, and hear what he
has more to say: It is my Interest you shou'd know the
Depth of all has ever passed between us.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> [<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Guz</span>.</em>] I fain wou'd know, Don <em>Guzman</em>,
whether in the whole Conduct of my Life, you have
known one step, that cou'd encourage you to hope I ever
cou'd be yours, but on the Terms of Honour which
you sought me?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Not one.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Why then should you believe I cou'd forgive the
taking that by Force, which you already were convinc'd
I valu'd more the keeping, than my Life?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Had my Love been as temperate as yours,
I with your Reason had perhaps debated. But not in
Reason, but in Flames, I flew to <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If strong Temptation be allow'd a Plea, Vice,
in the worst of Shapes, has much to urge:&mdash;No, cou'd
any Thing have shaken me in Virtue, it must have been
the Strength of it in you. Had you shone bright enough
to dazzle me, I blindly might have missed the Path I
meant to tread: But now you have clear'd my Sight for
ever. If, therefore, from this Moment more you dare
to let me know one Thought of Love, though in the
humblest Stile, expect to be a Sacrifice to him you attempt
to wrong.&mdash;&mdash;Farewel!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She retires from him.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> O stay and hear me!&mdash;I have wrong'd myself;
I'm innocent!&mdash;--By all that's sacred, just and
good, I'm innocent!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] What does he mean?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I have own'd a Fact I am not guilty of!
<em>Jacinta</em> can inform you; she knows I never&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I know! The Man's mad: Pray, begone,
Sir, my Lady will hear no more; I'll shut him out,
Madam, shan't I?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She shuts the Hole.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I have no farther Business with him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span> hastily.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> O Heavens, <em>Leonora</em>, where are you? Don
<em>Pedro</em>, you can assist me better.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> What's the Matter?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What is it, Madam, I can serve you in?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> In what the Peace of my whole Life consists;
the Safety of my Brother! Don <em>John</em>'s Servant has this
Moment left me a Letter for him, which I have open'd,
knowing there is an Animosity of some Time between 'em.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Well, Madam!</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> O dear, it is a Challenge, and what to do I
know not; if I shew it my Brother, he'll immediately
fly to the Place appointed; and if I don't, he'll be accus'd
of Cowardice. One way I risque his Life,
t'other I ruin his Honour.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What wou'd you have me do, Madam?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> I'll tell you, Sir: I only beg you'll go to the
Place where Don <em>John</em> expects him; tell him I have
intercepted his Letter, and make him promise you he'll
send no more: By this generous Charity you may hinder
two Men (whose, Piques are on a frivolous Occasion)
from murdering one another! And by this good Office,
you'll repay the small Debt you owe my Brother,
for flying last Night to <em>Leonora</em>'s Succour; and doubly
pay the Obligation you have to me, upon the same Occasion.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What Obligation, Madam? I am ignorant;
pray inform me.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> 'Twas I, Sir, that first heard <em>Leonora</em>'s Cries,
and rais'd my Brother to her Aid. Pray let me receive
the same Assistance from your Prudence, which you have
had from my Care, and my Brother's Generosity. But,
pray lose no Time. Don <em>John</em> is perhaps already on
the Spot, and not meeting my Brother, may send a
second Message, which may be fatal.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Madam, be at rest; you shall be satisfy'd,
I'll go this Moment. I'll only ask you first whether you
are sure you heard my Wife call out for Succour, before
your Brother past the Wall?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> I did; why do you ask that Question?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I have a Reason, you may be sure.
[<em>Aside.</em>] Just Heaven, I adore thee! The Truth at last
shines clear, and by that Villain <em>Alvarada</em> I'm betray'd.
But enough; I'll make Use of this Occasion for my
Vengeance. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Isab</span>.</em>] Where, Madam, is it, Don
<em>John</em> is waiting?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> But here, in a small Field, behind the Garden.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] His Blood shall do me Reason for
his Treachery.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Will you go there directly?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I will. Be satisfy'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Don Ped</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You weep, <em>Isabella</em>?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> You see my Trouble for a Brother for whom I
wou'd die, and a Lover for whom I wou'd live. They
both are Authors of my Grief.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> They both are Instruments of my Misfortune.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-372.jpg" width="700" height="35" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="ACT_V5" id="ACT_V5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Oho!</span> my good Signior Don <em>John</em>, you are mistaken
in your Man; I am your humble Valet, 'tis
true, and I am to obey you; but when you have got
the Devil in your Body, and are upon your Rantipole
Adventures, you shall <em>Quixote</em> it by yourself, for <em>Lopez</em>.
Yonder he is, waiting for poor <em>Guzman</em>, with a Sword
of a Fathom and a Half; a Dagger for close engagement;
and (if I don't mistake) a Pocket-pistol for extraordinary
Occasions. I think I am not in the wrong
to keep a little out of the Way: These Matters will
end in a Court of Justice, or I'm wrong in my Foresight:
Now that being a Place where I am pretty well
known, and not over-much reputed, I believe 'tis best,
neither to come in for Prisoner nor Evidence. But
hold; yonder comes another <em>Toledo</em>! Don <em>Guzman</em> I
presume, but I presume wrong, it is&mdash;who is it? Don
<em>Pedro</em>, by all the Powers! What the Pox does he here,
or what the Pox do I here? I'm sure as Matters stand, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>
ought to fly him like a Creditor; but he sees me, 'tis
too late to slip him.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> How now, <em>Lopez</em>; where are you going?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I'm going, Sir, I&mdash;&mdash;I'm going&mdash;if you please&mdash;&mdash;I'm
going about my Business.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> From whence do you come?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Only, only, Sir, from&mdash;taking the Air a little,
I'm mightily muddled with a Whur&mdash;&mdash;round about in
my Head, for this Day or two; I'm going home to
be let Blood, as fast as I can, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Hold, Sir; I'll let you Blood here.</p>

<p>This Rascal may have borne some Part in this late
Adventure: He's a Coward; I'll try to frighten it out
of him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Seizing him by the Collar, and drawing his Poniard.</em></p>

<p>You Traitor, you, y' are dead.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Mercy, Don <em>Pedro</em>!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Are you not a Villain?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Lop.</span> kneeling.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes; if you please.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Is there so great a one upon Earth?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> With respect to my Master&mdash;&mdash;No.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Prepare then to die!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Give me but Time, and I will. But, noble Don
<em>Pedro</em>, just Don <em>Pedro</em>, generous Don <em>Pedro</em>, what is it
I have done?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What, if thou dar'st deny, I'll plunge
this Dagger deep into thy Throat, and drive the Falsehood
to thy Heart again. Therefore, take heed, and
on thy Life declare, didst thou not this last night
open my Doors to let Don <em>Guzman</em> in?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Don <em>Guzman</em>!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Don <em>Guzman</em>! Yes, Don <em>Guzman</em>, Traitor;
him.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Now may the Sky crush me, if I let in Don
<em>Guzman</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Who did let you in then? It was not your
Master, sure! If it was him, you did your Duty; I have
no more to say.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why then, if I let in any Body else, I'm a Son
of a Whore.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Rising.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Did he order you beforehand, or did you
do it upon his knocking?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why he&mdash;I'll tell you, Sir, he&mdash;&mdash;pray put up
that Brilliant, it sparkles so in my Eyes, it almost blinds
me&mdash;thank you, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Don <span class="antiqua">Ped.</span> puts it up.</em></p>

<p>Why, Sir, I'll tell you just how the Matter was, but
I hope you won't consider me as a Party.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Go on; thou art safe.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why then, Sir, when (for our Sins) you had
left us, says my Master to me, <em>Lopez</em>, says he, go and
stay at old Don <em>Felix</em>'s House, till Don <em>Pedro</em> returns;
they'll pass thee for his Servant, and think he has order'd
thee to stay there. And then, says he, dost hear,
open me the Door by <em>Leonora</em>'s Apartment to-night, for
I have a little Business, says he, to do there.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Perfidious Wretch!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Indeed, I was at first a little resty, and stood off;
being suspicious (for I knew the Man) that there might
be some ill Intentions. But he knew me too, takes me
upon the weak Side, whips out a long Sword, and by
the same Means makes me do the Thing, as you have
made me discover it.&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] There's neither Liberty
nor Property in this Land, since the Blood of the <em>Bourbons</em>
came amongst us.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Then you let him in, as he bid you?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I did: If I had not, I had never lived to tell
you the Story. Yes, I let him in.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> And what follow'd?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, he follow'd.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> His Inclinations.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Which Way?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> The old Way:&mdash;To a Woman.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em>. Confound him!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> In short, he got to Madam's Chamber, and before
he had been there long, (tho' you know, Sir, a
little Time goes a great Way in some Matters) I heard
such a clutter of small Shot, Murder, Murder, Murder,
Rape, Fire, Help, and so forth&mdash;But hold, here he comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>
himself, and can give you a more circumstantial Account
of the Skirmish.</p>

<p><em>Don Ped.</em> I thank thee, Heaven, at last, for having
pointed me to the Victim I am to sacrifice.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Lop.</span></em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>[<em>Drawing.</em>] Villain, defend thyself.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What do you mean?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> To punish a Traitor.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Where is he?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> In the Heart of a sworn Friend.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I saw <em>Lopez</em>, go from him, without
doubt he has told him all.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Ped</span>.</em></p>

<p>Of what am I suspected?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Of betraying the greatest Trust that Man
cou'd place in Man.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> And by whom am I accus'd?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> By me: Have at thy Traitor's Heart!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Hold! And be not quite a Madman.&mdash;<em>Pedro</em>,
you know me well: You know I am not backward
upon these Occasions, nor shall I refuse you any
Satisfaction you'll demand; but first, I will be heard,
and tell you, That for a Man of Sense, you are pleas'd
to make very odd Conclusions.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Why, what is it possible thou canst invent
to clear thyself?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> To clear myself! Of what? I'm to be
thank'd for what I have done, and not reproach'd. I
find I have been an Ass, and push'd my Friendship to
that Point, you find not Virtue in yourself enough to
conceive it in another. But henceforward, I shall be a
better Husband of it.</p>

<p><em>Don Ped.</em> I shou'd be loth to find Ingratitude cou'd
e'er be justly charg'd upon me: But after what your
Servant has confess'd&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> My Servant! Right, my Servant! The
very Thing I guess'd. Fye, fye, Don <em>Pedro</em>; is it
from a Servant's Mouth a Friend condemns a Friend?
Or can Servants always judge at what their Master's
outward Actions point? But some Allowances I shou'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span>
make for the wild Agitation you must needs be in. I'm
therefore calm, and thus far pass all by.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> If you are innocent, Heaven be my Aid,
that I may find you so. But still&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> But still you wrong me, if you still suspect.
Hear then, in short, my part of this Adventure.
In order to acquit myself of the Charge you laid upon
me in your Absence, I went last night, just as 'twas
dark, to view the several Approaches of the House
where you had left your Wife; and I observ'd not far
from one of the back Doors, two Persons in close eager
Conference: I was disguis'd, so ventur'd to pass near
'em, and by a Word or two I heard, I found 'twas
<em>Guzman</em> talking to <em>Jacinta</em>. My Concern for your
Honour, made me at first resolve to call him to an immediate
Account. But then reflecting that I might
possibly over-hear some Part of their Discourse, and by
that judge of <em>Leonora</em>'s Thoughts, I rein'd my Passion
in; and by the help of an advancing Buttress, which
kept me from their Sight, I learnt the black Conspiracy.
Don <em>Guzman</em> said, he had great Complaint to make;
and since his honourable Love had been so ill return'd,
he could with ease forgive himself, if by some rougher
Means he should procure, what Prayers and Tears and
Sighs had urg'd in vain.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Go on.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> His kind Assistant clos'd smoothly with
him, and inform'd him with what ease that very Night
she'd introduce him to her Chamber. At last, they
parted, with this Agreement, that at some Overture
in a Wall, he should expect her to inform him when
<em>Leonora</em> was in Bed, and all the Coast was clear.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Dispatch the rest&mdash;Is't possible after all he
should be innocent!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I must confess the Resolution taken, made
me tremble for you: How to prevent it now and for
ever, was my next Care. I immediately order'd <em>Lopez</em>
to go lie at Don <em>Felix</em>'s, and to open me the Door when
all the Family were in Bed. He did as I directed him.
I enter'd, and in the dark found my way to <em>Leonora</em>'s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>
Apartment. I found the Door open, at which I was
surpriz'd. I thought I heard some stirring in her Chamber,
and in an Instant heard her cry for Aid. At this
I drew, and rush'd into the Room, which <em>Guzman</em>,
alarm'd at, cry'd out to her Assistance. His ready Impudence,
I must confess, at first quite struck me speechless;
but in a Moment I regain'd my Tongue, and
loud proclaim'd the Traitor.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Is't possible?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Yet more: your Arrival hindring me at
that Time from taking Vengeance for your Wrong, I
at this Instant expect him here, to punish him (with
Heaven's righteous Aid) for daring to attempt my
Ruin with the Man, whose Friendship I prefer to all
the Blessings Heaven and Earth dispense. And now,
Don <em>Pedro</em>, I have told you this, if still you have a
Mind to take my Life, I shall defend it with the self-same
Warmth I intended to expose it in your Service.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Draws.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] If I did not know he was in love
with <em>Leonora</em>, I could be easily surpriz'd with what he
has told me. But&mdash;But yet 'tis certain he has destroyed
the Proofs against him; and if I only hold him guilty
as a Lover; why must Don <em>Guzman</em> pass for innocent?
Good Gods, I am again returning to my Doubts!</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I have at last reduc'd him to a
Balance, but one Lye more tost in, will turn the Scale.</p>

<p><em>To Don <span class="antiqua">Ped.</span></em>] One Obligation more, my Friend, you
owe me; I thought to have let it pass, but it shall out.
Know then, I lov'd, like you, the beauteous <em>Leonora</em>;
but from the Moment I observ'd how deep her Dart had
pierc'd you, tore my Passion from my bleeding Heart,
and sacrific'd my Happiness to yours. Now, I have
no more to plead; if still you think your Vengeance is
my due, come pay it me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Rather ten thousand Poignards strike me
dead! O <em>Alvarada</em>! can you forgive a wild distracted
Friend? Gods! Whither was my jealous Frenzy leading
me? Can you forget this barbarous Injury?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I can: No more. But for the future,
think me what I am, a faithful and a zealous Friend.&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>Retire,
and leave me here. In a few Moments I hope
to bring you further Proofs on't. <em>Guzman</em> I instantly
expect, leave me to do you Justice on him.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> That must not be. My Revenge can ne'er
be satisfy'd by any other Hand but this.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Then let That do't. You'll in a Moment
have an Opportunity.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> You mistake; he won't be here.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> How so?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> He has not had your Challenge. His Sister
intercepted it, and desired I wou'd come to prevent the
Quarrel.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> What then is to be done?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I'll go and find him out immediately.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Very well: Or hold&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] I must
hinder 'em from talking. Gossiping may discover me.
Yes: let's go and find him: Or, let me see&mdash;&mdash;Aye,&mdash;&mdash;'twill
do better.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> What?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;That the Punishment should
suit the Crime.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Explain.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Attack him by his own Laws of War&mdash;
'Twas in the Night he would have had your Honour,
and in the Night you ought to have his Life.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> His Treason cannot take the Guilt from
mine.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> There is no Guilt in fair Retaliation.
When 'tis a Point of Honour sounds the Quarrel, the
Laws of Sword-Men must be kept, 'tis true: But if a
Thief glides in to seize my Treasure, methinks I may
return the Favour on my Dagger's Point, as well as
with my Sword of Ceremony six Times as long.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Yet still the nobler Method I wou'd choose;
it better satisfies the Vengeance of a Man of Honour.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I own it, were you sure you shou'd succeed:
But the Events of Combats are uncertain. Your
Enemy may 'scape you: You perhaps may only wound
him; you may be parted. Believe me, <em>Pedro</em>, the Injury's
too great for a Punctilio Satisfaction.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Well, guide me as you please, so you direct
me quickly to my Vengeance. What do you propose?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> That which is as easy, as 'tis just to execute.
The Wall he passed, to attempt your Wife, let us get
over to prevent his doing so any more. 'Twill let us
into a private Apartment by his Garden, where every
Evening in his amorous Solitudes he spends some Time
alone, and where I guess his late fair Scheme was drawn.
The Deed done, we can retreat the Way we enter'd;
let me be your Pilot, 'tis now e'en dark, and the most
proper Time.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Lead on; I'll follow you.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] How many Villanies I'm forc'd
to act, to keep one secret!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Don. <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>'s Apartments.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>, sitting solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">With</span> what Rigour does this unfaithful Woman treat
me! Is't possible it can be me, who appeared to love
me with so much Tenderness? How little stress is to be
laid upon a Woman's Heart! Sure they're not worth
those anxious Cares they give. [<em>Rising.</em>] Then burst my
Chains, and give me Room to search for nobler Pleasures.
I feel my Heart begin to mutiny for Liberty;
there is a Spirit in it yet, will struggle hard for Freedom:
but Solitude's the worst of Seconds. Ho! <em>Sancho</em>,
<em>Galindo</em>, who waits there? Bring some Lights.&mdash;Where
are you?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Galindo</span>, rubbing his Eyes, and drunk.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> I can't well tell. Do you want me, Sir?</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Yes, Sir, I want you. Why am I left in
the dark? What were you doing?</p>

<p><em>Gal.</em> Doing, Sir! I was doing&mdash;&mdash;what one does
when one sleeps, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Have you no Light without?</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> [<em>Yawning.</em>] Light!&mdash;--No, Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I have
no Light. I'm us'd to Hardship, I can sleep in the
dark.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> You have been drinking, you Rascal, you
are drunk.</p>

<p><em>Gal.</em> I have been drinking, Sir, 'tis true, but I am
not drunk. Every Man that is drunk, has been drinking,
confess'd. But every Man that has been drinking,
is not drunk.&mdash;&mdash;Confess that too.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Who is't has put you in this Condition,
you Sot?</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> A very honest Fellow: Madam <em>Leonora</em>'s
Coachman, nobody else. I have been making a little
debauch with Madam <em>Leonora</em>'s Coachman; yes.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> How came you to drink with him, Beast?</p>

<p><em>Gal.</em> Only <em>per</em> Complaisance, Sir. The Coachman
was to be drunk upon Madam's Wedding; and I being
a Friend, was desired to take Part.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> And so, you Villain, you can make yourself
merry, with what renders me miserable.</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> No, Sir, no; 'twas the Coachman was merry;
I drank with Tears in my Eyes. The remembrance of
your Misfortunes made me so sad, so sad, that every
Cup I swallow'd was like a Cup of Poison to me.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Without doubt.</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> Yes; and to mortify myself upon melancholy
Matters, I believe I took down fifty; yes.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Go fetch some Lights, you drunken Sot,
you.</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> I will, if I can find the [<em>Feeling for the Door and running against it.</em>]
Door, that's so say&mdash;&mdash;The
Devil's in the Door; I think 'tis
grown too little for me&mdash;&mdash;Shrunk this wet Weather,
I presume.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Galin</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span> alone.</em>
</p>

<p>Absence, the old Remedy for Love, must e'en be
mine: to stay and brave the Danger, were Presumption:
Farewel <em>Valencia</em>, then, and farewel, <em>Leonora</em>. And
if thou can'st, my Heart, redeem thy Liberty, secure it
by a Farewel eternal to her Sex.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Galindo</span> with a Candle, he falls, and puts
it out.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> Here's light, Sir&mdash;&mdash;So,&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Well done. You sottish [<em>Passing angrily into another Chamber.</em>]
Rascal, come no more in my
Sight.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. Don <span class="antiqua">Guz</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> These Boards are so uneven&mdash;&mdash;
You shall see now I shall neither find [<em>Rising and feeling about for the Candle.</em>]
the Candle&mdash;&mdash;nor the Candlestick;
It shan't be for want of searching,
however.</p>

<p>----O ho, have I got you? Enough, I'll look for your
Companion to-morrow.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> and Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Where are we now?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> We are in the Apartment I told you of&mdash;&mdash;Softly&mdash;&mdash;I
hear something stir&mdash;&mdash;Ten to
one but 'tis he.</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> Don't I hear, somewhat?&mdash;&mdash;No&mdash;&mdash;when
one has Wine in one's Head, one has such a bustle in
one's Ears.</p>

<p>Don <em>Pedro.</em> [<em>To Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>] Who is that is talking
to himself?</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> 'Tis his Servant, I know his Voice, keep
still.</p>

<p><em>Galin.</em> Well; since my Master has banished me his
Sight, I'll redeem by my Obedience, what I have lost by
my Debauch. I'll go sleep twelve Hours in some melancholy
Hole where the Devil Shan't find me; yes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Galindo</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> He's gone; but hush, I hear somebody
coming.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Ho there! will nobody bring Light?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Behind the Scene.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Tis <em>Guzman</em>.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> 'Tis so, prepare.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Shall I own my Weakness? I feel an inward
Check; I wish this could be done some other way.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Distraction all! Is this a Time to balance?
Think on the Injury he would have done you, 'twill fortify
your Arm, and guide your Dagger to his Heart.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Enough, I'll hesitate no more; be satisfy'd;
hark! he's coming.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span> passes the Stage.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> I think these Rogues are resolved to leave
me in the dark all Night.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Guz</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Now's your Time, follow him and strike
home.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> To his Heart, if my Dagger will reach it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> follows him.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] If one be kill'd, I'm satisfy'd;
'tis no great Matter which.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>, Don <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> following him,
with his Dagger ready to strike.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] My Chamber Door's lock'd, and
I think I hear somebody tread&mdash;&mdash;Who's there?&mdash;&mdash;Nobody
answers. But still I hear something stir. Hola
there! <em>Sancho</em>, are you all drunk? Some Lights here,
quickly.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span> passes by the Corner where <span class="antiqua">Don John</span> stands,
and goes of the Stage; Dan <span class="antiqua">Pedro</span> following him, stabs
Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I think I'm near him now:&mdash;&mdash;Traitor,
take that, my Wife has sent it thee.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Ah, I'm dead!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Then thou hast thy Due.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I have, indeed; 'tis I that have betray'd
thee.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> And 'tis I that am reveng'd on thee for
doing it.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> I wou'd have forc'd thy Wife.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Die then with the Regret to have fail'd in
thy Attempt.</p>

<p>Don <em>John.</em> Farewel, if thou can'st forgive me&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Dies.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> I have done the Deed, there's nothing left
but to make our Escape. Don <em>John</em>, where are you?
Let's begone, I hear the Servants coming.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Lopez</span> knocks hard at the Door.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Open there quickly, open the Door.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> That's <em>Lopez</em>, we shall be discover'd. But
'tis no great Matter, the Crime will justify the Execution;
but where's Don <em>John</em>? Don <em>John</em>, where are you?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Lopez</span> knocks again.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Open the Door there, quickly. Madam, I saw
'em both pass the Wall; the Devil's in't if any good
comes on't.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I am frightened out of my Senses: ho, <em>Isabella</em>!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Tis <em>Leonora</em>. She's welcome. With her
own Eyes let her see her <em>Guzman</em> dead.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>, <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>, <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>, <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span> and
<span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>, with Lights.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Ha! what is't I see? <em>Guzman</em> alive?
Then who art thou?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking on Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> <em>Guzman</em> alive! Yes, <em>Pedro</em>, <em>Guzman</em> is
alive.</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> Then Heaven is just, and there's a Traitor
dead.</p>

<p><em>Isabella weeps.</em>] Alas, Don <em>John</em>!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>Looking upon Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>.</em>] <em>Bonus Nocius.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> What has produced this bloody Scene?</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> 'Tis I have been the Actor in't;&mdash;&mdash;my
Poignard, <em>Guzman</em>, I intended in your Heart.&mdash;&mdash;I
thought your Crime deserv'd it: but I did you wrong,
and my Hand in searching the Innocent, has by Heaven's
justice been directed to the Guilty. Don <em>John</em>,
with his last Breath, confess'd himself the Offender.&mdash;Thus
my Revenge is satisfied, and you are clear'd.</p>

<p>Don <em>Guz.</em> Good Heaven, how equitable are thy
Judgments!</p>

<p>Don <em>Ped.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leo</span>.</em>] Come, Madam, my Honour now
is satisfied, and if you please my Love may be so too.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If it is not,</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>You to yourself alone shall owe your Smart,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For where I've given my Hand, I'll give my Heart.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/bar-384.jpg" width="700" height="80" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE5" id="EPILOGUE5">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mrs. <em>Oldfield</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>hat</span> say you, Sirs, d'ye think my Lady'll 'scape?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis dev'lish hard to stand a Fav'rite's Rape.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Shou'd <span class="antiqua">Guzman</span>, like Don <span class="antiqua">John</span>, break in upon her,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For all her Virtue, Heaven have Mercy on her:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Her Strength, I doubt, 's in his Irresolution,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>There's wond'rous Charms in vig'rous Execution.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Indeed you Men are Fools, you won't believe</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What dreadful Things we Women can forgive:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I know but one we never do pass by,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And that you plague us with eternally;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When in your courtly Fears to disoblige,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You won't attack the Town which you beseige:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your Guns are light, and planted out of Reach:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>D'ye think with Billet-doux to make a Breach?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis Small-Shot all, and not a Stone will fly:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Walls fall by Cannon, and by firing nigh:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In sluggish dull Blockades you keep the Field,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And starve us ere we can with Honour yield.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In short&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We can't receive those Terms you gently tender,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But storm, and we can answer our Surrender.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directcenter"><span class="smcap">END of the FIRST VOLUME</span>
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">PLAYS</em> printed for <span class="smcap">T. Lowndes</span>,
at 6d. each.
</p>


<div class="center">
<ul><li class="ifrst">A Bramule, by Dr. Trapp</li>
<li>Adventures of Half an Hour</li>
<li>Albion and Albanius, by Dryden</li>
<li>Alchymist, by Ben Johnson</li>
<li>Alcibiades, by Otway</li>
<li>All for Love, by Dryden</li>
<li>Ambitious Step-mother, by Rowe</li>
<li>Amboyna, by Dryden</li>
<li>Amphitryon, by Dryden</li>
<li>Anatomist, by Ravenscroft</li>
<li>Anna Bullen, by Bankes</li>
<li>As You Like It, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Artful Husband, by Taverner</li>
<li>Athaliah, by Mr. Duncomb</li>
<li>Aurengzebe, by Dryden</li>

<li class="indx">Bartholomew Fair, by Ben Johnson</li>
<li>Baffet Table, by Centlivre</li>
<li>Beaux Stratagem, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Beggar's Opera, by Gay</li>
<li>Biter, by Rowe</li>
<li>Bold Stroke for a Wife</li>
<li>British Enchanters, by Lansdown</li>
<li>Busiris, by Dr. Young</li>
<li>Busy Body, by Centlivre</li>

<li class="indx">Caius Marius, by Otway</li>
<li>Careless Husband, by Cibber</li>
<li>Catiline, by Ben Johnson</li>
<li>Cato, by Addison</li>
<li>Chances, by D. Buckingham</li>
<li>Chaplet, by Mr. Mendez</li>
<li>Cleomenes, by Dryden</li>
<li>Cobler of Preston</li>
<li>Comedy of Errors, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Conscious Lovers, by Cibber</li>
<li>Committee, by Sir R. Howard</li>
<li>Confederacy, by Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Conscious Lovers, by Steele</li>
<li>Constant Couple, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Contrivances, by Carey</li>
<li>Country Lasses, by B. Johnson</li>
<li>Country Wife, by Wycherly</li>
<li>Cymbeline, altered by Mr. Garrick</li>

<li class="indx">Damon and Phillida, by Mr. Dibdin</li>
<li>Devil of a Wife</li>
<li>Devil to Pay, by Coffey</li>
<li>Distressed Mother, by Am. Philips</li>
<li>Don Carlos, by Otway</li>
<li>Double Dealer, by Congreve</li>
<li>Double Gallant, by Cibber</li>
<li>Dragon of Wantley
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></li>
<li>Drummer, by Addison</li>
<li>Duke and no Duke, by Sir A. Cockain</li>
<li>Duke of Guise, by Dryden</li>

<li class="indx">Earl of Essex, by Bankes</li>
<li>Every Man in his Humour</li>

<li class="indx">Fair Penitent, by Rowe</li>
<li>Fair Quaker of Deal, by C. Shadwell</li>
<li>False Friend</li>
<li>Fatal Curiosity</li>
<li>Fatal Secret, by Theobald</li>
<li>Fiora, or Hob in the Well</li>
<li>Fox, by Ben Johnson</li>
<li>Friendship in Fashion, by Otway</li>
<li>Funeral, by Sir R. Steele</li>

<li class="indx">Gamesier, by Mrs. Centlivre</li>
<li>Gentle Shepherd</li>
<li>George Barnwell, by Lillo</li>
<li>Gloriana</li>
<li>Greenwich Park</li>

<li class="indx">Hamlet, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Henry IV. 2 Parts, by ditto</li>
<li>Henry V. by ditto</li>
<li>Henry VI. 3 Parts, by ditto</li>
<li>Henry VIII. by ditto</li>
<li>Henry V. by Aaron Hill</li>
<li>Honest Yorkshireman</li>

<li class="indx">Jane Gray, by Rowe</li>
<li>Jane Shore, by Rowe</li>
<li>Inconstant, by Farquhar</li>

<li class="indx">King John, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>King Lear, by ditto</li>
<li>King Lear, by Tate</li>

<li class="indx">Limberham, by Dryden</li>
<li>Love for Love, by Congreve</li>
<li>Love in a Mist</li>
<li>Love in a Tub, by Etherege</li>
<li>Love makes a Man, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Love's Last shift, by Cibber</li>
<li>Lying Lover, by Steele</li>

<li class="indx">Macbeth, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Man of Mode, by Etherege</li>
<li>Marianne, by Fenton</li>
<li>Measure for Measure, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Merchant of Venice, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Mistake, by Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Mourning Bride, by Congreve</li>
<li>Much ado about Nothing</li>
<li>Mustapha, by Lord Orrery</li>

<li class="indx">Nonjurer, by C. Cibber</li>

<li class="indx">Oedipus, by Dryden</li>
<li>Old Bachelor, by Congreve</li>
<li>Oroonoko, by Southern</li>
<li>Orphan, by Otway</li>
<li>Othello, by Shakespeare</li>

<li class="indx">Perjured Husband</li>
<li>Perolla and Isidora, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Phædra and Hippolitus, by Smith</li>
<li>Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher</li>
<li>Polly, by Mr. Gay</li>
<li>Prophetess, by Beaumont</li>
<li>Provok'd Husband, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Provok'd Wife, by Vanbrugh</li>

<li class="indx">Recruiting Officer, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Refusal, by Cibber</li>
<li>Rehearsal, by of Buck.</li>
<li>Relapse, by Vanbrugh.</li>
<li>Revenge, by Dr. Young.</li>
<li>Richard III. by C. Cibber.</li>
</ul>
</div>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/wingding-385.jpg" width="700" height="157" alt="" />
</div>

<div id="transnote">

<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h2><a name="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</a></h2>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Drop</span> caps began most of
the Scene beginnings in volume 1. However, did not use drop caps for
any scene beginnings in volume 1 to conform to standard used in volume
2.</p>

<p>Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.</p>

<p>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.</p></div>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51113 ***</div>
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