Plays, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, volume the second
by John Vanbrugh · English · Gutenberg #51114 · 605,957 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Plays, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, volume the second
Author: John Vanbrugh
Release date: February 2, 2016 [eBook #51114]
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS, WRITTEN BY SIR JOHN VANBRUGH, VOLUME THE SECOND ***
PLAYS,
WRITTEN BY
Sir =John Vanbrugh=.
=Volume= _the_ =Second=.
CONTAINING
The =Confederacy=.
The =Mistake=.
The =Country House=.
A =Journey= to =London=.
The =Provok'd Husband=.
LONDON:
Printed for =J. Rivington=, =T. Longman=, =T.
Lowndes=, =T. Caslon=, =C. Corbett=, =S. Bladon=,
=W. Nicoll=, =T. Evans=, and =M. Waller=,
MDCCLXXVI.
PROLOGUE,
Spoken by a Shabby Poet.
_Ye Gods! what crime had my poor father done,
That you should make a poet of his son?
Or is't for some great services of his,
Y'are pleas'd to compliment his boy----with this?_
[Shewing his crown of laurel.
_The honour, I must needs confess is great,
If, with his crown, you'd tell him where to eat:
Tis well----But I have more complaints--look here!_
[Shewing his ragged coat.
_Hark ye; d'ye think this suit good winter wear?
In a cold morning; whu----at a Lord's gate,
How you have let the porter let me wait!
You'll say, perhaps, you knew I'd get no harm,
You'd given me fire enough to keep me warm.
Ah----
A world of blessings to that fire we owe;
Without it I'd ne'er made this princely show.
I have a brother too, now in my sight,_
[Looking behind the scenes.
_A busy man amongst us here to-night:
Your fire has made him play a thousand pranks,
For which, no doubt you've had his daily thanks:
He's thank'd you, fi fi, for all his decent plays,
Where he so nick'd it, when he writ for praise.
Next for his meddling with some folks in black,
And bringing----Souse----a priest upon his back;
For building houses here t'oblige the peers,
And fetching all their house about his ears;
For a new play, he'as now thought fit to write,
To sooth the town----which they----will damn to-night.
These benefits are such, no man can doubt
But he'll go on, and set your fancy out,
Till for reward of all his noble deeds,
At last, like other sprightly folks, he speeds:
Has this great recompence fix'd on his brow_ }
_As fam'd Parnassus; has your leave to bow_ }
_And walk about the streets--equip'd----as I am now._ }
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
_Gripe_, { Two rich money-scriveners. { Mr. _Leigh._
_Money-trap_, { { Mr. _Dogget._
_Dick_, a gamester, son to Mrs. _Amlet_. Mr. _Booth._
_Brass_, his companion, passes for his { Mr. _Pack._
_Valet de Chambre._ {
_Clip_, a Goldsmith. Mr. _Mimes._
_Jessamin_, foot boy to _Clarissa_.
WOMEN.
_Clarissa_, wife to _Gripe_, an }
expensive luxurious woman, a great } Mrs. _Barry._
admirer of quality. }
_Araminta_, wife to _Money-trap_, very }
intimate with _Clarissa_, of the same } Mrs. _Porter._
humour. }
_Corinna_, daughter to _Gripe_ by a }
former wife, a good fortune, young, } Mrs. _Bradshaw._
and kept very close by her father. }
_Flippanta_, _Clarissa_'s maid. Mrs. _Bracegirdle._
Mrs. _Amlet_, a seller of all sorts of } Mrs. _Willis._
private affairs to the ladies. }
Mrs. _Cloggit_ her neighbour. Mrs. _Baker._
THE
CONFEDERACY.
+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+ _Covent-garden_.
_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~ and Mrs. ~Cloggit~, meeting._
=Amlet.=
Good-morrow, neighbour; good-morrow, neighbour _Cloggit_! How does all
at your house this morning?
_Clog._ Think you kindly, _Mrs._ Amlet, thank you kindly; how do you
do, I pray?
_Aml._ At the old rate, neighbour, poor and honest; these are hard
times, good lack.
_Clog._ If they are hard with you, what are they with us? You have
a good trade going, all the great folks in town help off with your
merchandize.
_Aml._ Yes, they do help us off with 'em indeed; they buy all.
_Clog._ And pay----
_Aml._ For some.
_Clog._ Well, 'tis a thousand pities, Mrs. _Amlet_, they are not as
ready at one, as they are at t'other: For, not to wrong 'em, they give
very good rates.
_Aml._ O for that, let us do them justice, neighbour; they never make
two words upon the price, all they haggle about is the day of payment.
_Clog._ There's all the dispute, as you say.
_Aml._ But that's a wicked one: For my part, neighbour, I'm just tir'd
off my legs with trotting after 'em; beside, it eats out all our
profit. Would you believe it, Mrs. _Cloggit_, I have worn out four pair
of pattens, with following my old Lady _Youthful_, for one set of false
teeth, and but three pots of paint.
_Clog._ Look you there now.
_Aml._ If they would but once let me get enough by 'em, to keep a coach
to carry me a dunning after 'em, there would be some conscience in it.
_Clog._ Ay, that were something. But now you talk of conscience, Mrs.
_Amlet_, how do you speed among your city customers?
_Aml._ My city customers! Now by my truth, neighbour, between the city
and the court (with reverence be it spoken) there's not a ---- to
choose. My ladies in the city in times past, were as full of gold as
they were of religion, and as punctual in their payments as they were
of their prayers; but since they have set their minds upon quality,
adieu one, adieu t'other, their money and their conscience are gone,
heaven knows where. There is not a goldsmith's wife to be found in
town, but's as hard-hearted as an ancient judge, and as poor as a
towering dutchess.
_Clog._ But what the murrain have they to do with quality, why don't
their husbands make e'm mind their shops?
_Aml._ Their husbands! their husbands, say'st thou, woman? alack,
alack, they mind their husbands, neighbour, no more than they do a
sermon.
_Clog._ Good lack-a-day, that women born of sober parents, should be
prone to follow ill examples! But now we talk of quality, when did you
hear of your son _Richard_, Mrs. _Amlet_? My daughter _Flip._ says
she met him t'other day in a lac'd coat, with three fine ladies, his
footman at his heels, and as gay as a bridegroom.
_Aml._ Is it possible? Ah the rogue! well, neighbour, all's well that
ends well; but _Dick_ will be hang'd.
_Clog._ That were pity.
_Aml._ Pity indeed; for he's a hopeful young man to look on; but he
leads a life----Well----where he has it, heav'n knows; but they say,
he pays his club with the best of 'em. I have seen him but once these
three months, neighbour, and then the varlet wanted money; but I bid
him march, and march he did to some purpose; for in less than an hour,
back comes my gentleman into the house, walks to and fro in the room,
with his wig over his shoulder, his hat on one side, whistling a
minuet, and tossing a purse of gold from one hand to t'other, with no
more respect (heaven bless us!) than if it had been an orange. Sirrah,
says I, where have you got that? He answers me never a word, but sets
his arms a kimbo, cocks his saucy hat in my face, turns about upon his
ungracious heel, as much as to say kiss--and I've never set my eye on
him since.
_Clog._ Look you there now; to see what the youth of this age are come
to!
_Aml._ See what they will come to, neighbour. Heaven shield, I say; but
_Dick_'s upon the gallop. Well, I must bid you good-morrow; I'm going
where I doubt I shall meet but a sorry welcome.
_Clog._ To get in some old debt, I'll warrant you?
_Aml._ Neither better or worse.
_Clog._ From a lady of quality?
_Aml._ No, she's but a scrivener's wife; but she lives as well, and
pays as ill, as the stateliest countess of 'em all.
[_Exeunt several ways._
_Enter ~Brass~ solus._
_Brass._ Well, surely thro' the world's wide extent, there never
appeared so impudent a fellow as my schoolfellow _Dick_, pass himself
upon the town for a gentleman, drop into all the best company with an
easy air, as if his natural element were in the sphere of quality; when
the rogue had a kettle-drum to his father, who was hang'd for robbing a
church, and has a pedlar to his mother, who carries her shop under her
arm. But here he comes.
_Enter ~Dick~._
_Dick._ Well, _Brass_, what news? Hast thou given my letter to
_Flippanta_?
_Brass._ I'm but just come; I han't knock'd at the door yet. But I have
a damn'd piece of news for you.
_Dick._ As how?
_Brass._ We must quit this country.
_Dick._ We'll be hang'd first.
_Brass._ So you will if you stay.
_Dick._ Why, what's the matter?
_Brass._ There's a storm a coming.
_Dick._ From whence?
_Brass._ From the worst point in the compass, the law.
_Dick._ The law! Why what have I to do with the law?
_Brass._ Nothing; and therefore it has something to do with you.
_Dick._ Explain.
_Brass._ You know you cheated a young fellow at picquet t'other day, of
the money he had to raise his company.
_Dick._ Well, what then?
_Brass._ Why he's sorry he lost it.
_Dick._ Who doubts that?
_Brass._ Ay, but that's not all, he's such a fool to think of
complaining on't.
_Dick._ Then I must be so wise as to stop his mouth.
_Brass._ How?
_Dick._ Give him a little back; if that won't do, strangle him.
_Brass._ You are very quick in your methods.
_Dick._ Men must be so that will dispatch business.
_Brass._ Hark you, Colonel, your father dy'd in's bed?
_Dick._ He might have done if he had not been a fool.
_Brass._ Why, he robbed a church.
_Dick._ Ay, but he forgot to make sure of the sexton.
_Brass._ Are not you a great rogue?
_Dick._ Or I should wear worse clothes.
_Brass._ Hark you, I would advise you to change your life.
_Dick._ And turn ballad-singer.
_Brass._ Not so neither.
_Dick._ What then?
_Brass._ Why, if you can get this young wench, reform, and live honest.
_Dick._ That's the way to be starv'd.
_Brass._ No, she has money enough to buy you a good place, and pay me
into the bargain for helping her to so good a match. You have but this
throw left to save you, for you are not ignorant, youngster, that your
morals begin to be pretty well known about town; have a care your noble
birth and your honourable relations are not discovered too: there needs
but that to have you toss'd in a blanket, for the entertainment of the
first company of ladies you intrude into: and then like a dutiful son,
you may dangle about with your mother, and sell paint: she's old and
weak, and wants somebody to carry her goods after her. How like a dog
will you look, with a pair of plod shoes, your hair crop'd up to your
ears, and a band-box under your arm?
_Dick._ Why faith, _Brass_, I think thou art in the right on't; I must
fix my affairs quickly, or Madam _Fortune_ will be playing some of her
bitch-tricks with me: therefore I'll tell thee what we'll do; we'll
pursue this old rogue's daughter heartily; we'll cheat his family to
purpose, and they shall atone for the rest of mankind.
_Brass._ Have at her then, I'll about your business presently.
_Dick._ One kiss----and success attend thee.
[_Exit ~Dick~._
_Brass._ A great rogue----Well, I say nothing. But when I have got the
thing into a good posture, he shall sign and seal, or I'll have him
tumbled out of the house like a cheese. Now for _Flippanta._
[_He knocks._
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
_Flip._ Who's that? _Brass!_
_Brass._ _Flippanta!_
_Flip._ What want you, rogue's-face?
_Brass._ Is your mistress dress'd?
_Flip._ What, already? Is the fellow drunk?
_Brass._ Why, with respect to her looking-glass, it's almost two.
_Flip._ What then, fool?
_Brass._ Why then it's time for the mistress of the house to come down,
and look after her family.
_Flip._ Pr'ythee don't be an owl. Those that go to bed at night may
rise in the morning; we that go to bed in the morning rise in the
afternoon.
_Brass._ When does she make her visits then?
_Flip._ By candle-light; it helps off a muddy complexion; we women hate
inquisitive sun-shine: but do you know that my Lady is going to turn
good housewife?
_Brass._ What, is she going to die?
_Flip._ Die!
_Brass._ Why, that's the only way to save money for her family.
_Flip._ No; but she has thought of a project to save chair-hire.
_Brass._ As how?
_Flip._ Why all the company she us'd to keep abroad she now intends
shall meet at her own house. Your master has advis'd her to set up a
basset-table.
_Brass._ Nay, if he advis'd her to it, it's right; but has she
acquainted her husband with it yet?
_Flip._ What to do? When the company meet he'll see them.
_Brass._ Nay, that's true, as you say, he'll know it soon enough.
_Flip._ Well, I must be gone; have you any business with my Lady?
_Brass._ Yes; as ambassador from _Araminta_, I have a letter for her.
_Flip._ Give it me.
_Brass._ Hold----and as first minister of state to the Colonel, I have
an affair to communicate to thee.
_Flip._ What is't? quick.
_Brass._ Why----he's in love.
_Flip._ With what?
_Brass._ A woman----and her money together.
_Flip._ Who is she?
_Brass._ _Corinna_.
_Flip._ What wou'd he be at?
_Brass._ At her----if she's at leisure.
_Flip._ Which way?
_Brass._ Honourably----he has ordered me to demand her of thee in
marriage.
_Flip._ Of me?
_Brass._ Why, when a man of quality has a mind to a city-fortune,
would'st have him apply to her father and mother?
_Flip._ No.
_Brass._ No, so I think: men of our end of the town are better bred
than to use ceremony. With a long perriwig we strike the lady, with a
you-know-what we soften the maid; and when the parson has done his job,
we open the affair to the family. Will you slip this letter into her
prayer-book, my little queen? It's a very passionate one----It's seal'd
with a heart and a dagger; you may see by that what he intends to do
with himself.
_Flip._ Are there any verses in it? If not, I won't touch it.
_Brass._ Not one word in prose, it's dated in rhyme.
[_She takes it._
_Flip._ Well, but have you brought nothing else?
_Brass._ Gad forgive me; I'm the forgetfullest dog----I have a letter
for you too----here----'tis in a purse, but it's in prose, you won't
touch it.
_Flip._ Yes, hang it, it is not good to be too dainty.
_Brass._ How useful a virtue is humility! Well, child, we shall have an
answer to-morrow, shan't we?
_Flip._ I can't promise you that; for our young gentlewoman is not so
often in my way as she would be. Her father (who is a citizen from
the foot to the forehead of him) lets her seldom converse with her
mother-in-law and me, for fear she should learn the airs of a woman of
quality. But I'll take the first occasion: see, there's my lady, go in
and deliver your letter to her.
[_Exeunt._
+SCENE+, _a Parlour_.
_Enter ~Clarissa~, follow'd by ~Flippanta~ and ~Brass~._
_Clar._ No messages this morning from any body, _Flippanta_? Lard how
dull that is! O, there's _Brass_! I did not see thee, _Brass_. What
news dost thou bring?
_Brass._ Only a letter from _Araminta_, Madam.
_Clar._ Give it me----open it for me, _Flippanta_, I am so lazy to-day.
[_Sitting down._
_Brass._ [_To Flip._] Be sure now you deliver my master's as carefully
as I do this.
_Flip._ Don't trouble thyself, I'm no novice.
_Clar._ [to _Brass._] 'Tis well, there needs no answer, since she'll be
here so soon.
_Brass._ Your ladyship has no farther commands then?
_Clar._ Not at this time, honest _Brass_. _Flippanta_!
[_Exit ~Brass~._
_Flip._ Madam.
_Clar._ My husband's in love.
_Flip._ In love?
_Clar._ With _Araminta_.
_Flip._ Impossible!
_Clar._ This letter from her, is to give me an account of it.
_Flip._ Methinks you are not very much alarm'd.
_Clar._ No; thou know'st I'm not much tortur'd with jealousy.
_Flip._ Nay, you are much in the right on't, Madam, for jealousy's a
city passion, 'tis a thing unknown amongst people of quality.
_Clar._ Fy! A woman must indeed be of a mechanick mould, who is either
troubled or pleas'd with any thing her husband can do to her. Pr'ythee
mention him no more; 'tis the dullest theme.
_Flip._ 'Tis splenetick indeed. But when once you open your basset
table, I hope that will put him out of your head.
_Clar._ Alas, _Flippanta_, I begin to grow weary even of the thoughts
of that too.
_Flip._ How so?
_Clar._ Why, I have thought on't a day and a night already, and four
and twenty hours, thou know'st, is enough to make one weary of any
thing.
_Flip._ Now by my conscience, you have more woman in you than all your
sex together: you never know what you would have.
_Clar._ Thou mistakest the thing quite. I always know what I lack, but
I am never pleas'd with what I have. The want of a thing is perplexing
enough, but the possession of it is intolerable.
_Flip._ Well, I don't know what you are made of, but other women would
think themselves blest in your case; handsome, witty, lov'd by every
body, and of so happy a composure, to care a fig for nobody. You have
no one passion, but that of your pleasures, and you have in me a
servant devoted to all your desires, let them be as extravagant as they
will: yet all this is nothing; you can still be out of humour.
_Clar._ Alas, I have but too much cause.
_Flip._ Why, what have you to complain of?
_Clar._ Alas, I have more subjects for spleen than one: is it
not a most horrible thing that I should be but a scrivener's
wife?--Come,----don't flatter me, don't you think nature design'd me
for something _plus elevé_?
_Flip._ Nay, that's certain; but on the other side, methinks, you ought
to be in some measure content, since you live like a woman of quality,
tho' you are none.
_Clar._ O fy! the very quintessence of it is wanting.
_Flip._ What's that?
_Clar._ Why, I dare abuse nobody: I'm afraid to affront people, tho' I
don't like their faces; or to ruin their reputations, tho' they pique
me to it, by taking ever so much pains to preserve 'em: I dare not
raise a lye of a man, tho' he neglects to make love to me; nor report
a woman to be a fool, tho' she's handsomer than I am. In short, I dare
not so much as bid my footman kick the people out of doors, tho' they
come to ask me for what I owe them.
_Flip._ All this is very hard indeed.
_Clar._ Ah, _Flippanta_, the perquisites of quality are of an
unspeakable value.
_Flip._ They are of some use, I must confess; but we must not expect to
have every thing. You have wit and beauty, and a fool to your husband:
come come, madam, that's a good portion for one.
_Clar._ Alas, what signifies beauty and wit, when one dares neither
jilt the men nor abuse the women? 'Tis a sad thing, _Flippanta_, when
wit's confin'd, 'tis worse than the rising of the lights; I have been
sometimes almost choak'd with scandal, and durst not cough it up for
want of being a countess.
_Flip._ Poor lady!
_Clar._ O! Liberty is a fine thing, _Flippanta_; it's a great help in
conversation to have leave to say what one will. I have seen a woman of
quality, who has not had one grain of wit, entertain a whole company
the most agreeably in the world, only with her malice. But 'tis in vain
to repine, I can't mend my condition, till my husband dies: so I'll say
no more on't, but think of making the most of the state I am in.
_Flip._ That's your best way, madam; and in order to it, pray consider
how you'll get some ready money to set your basset-table a going; for
that's necessary.
_Clar._ Thou say'st true; but what trick I shall play my husband to get
some, I don't know: for my pretence of losing my diamond necklace has
put the man into such a passion, I'm afraid he won't hear reason.
_Flip._ No matter; he begins to think 'tis lost in earnest: so I fancy
you may venture to sell it, and raise money that way.
_Clar._ That can't be, for he has left odious notes with all the
goldsmiths in town.
_Flip._ Well, we must pawn it then.
_Clar._ I'm quite tir'd with dealing with those pawnbrokers.
_Flip._ I'm afraid you'll continue the trade a great while, for all
that.
[_Aside._
_Enter ~Jessamin~._
_Jess._ Madam, there's the woman below that sells paint and patches,
iron boddice, false teeth, and all sorts of things to the ladies; I
can't think of her name.
_Flip._ 'Tis Mrs. _Amlet_, she wants money.
_Clar._ Well, I han't enough for myself, it's an unreasonable thing she
should think I have any for her.
_Flip._ She's a troublesome jade.
_Clar._ So are all people that come a dunning.
_Flip._ What will you do with her?
_Clar._ I have just now thought on't. She's very rich, that woman is,
_Flippanta_, I'll borrow some money of her.
_Flip._ Borrow! sure you jest, madam.
_Clar._ No, I'm in earnest; I give thee commission to do it for me.
_Flip._ Me!
_Clar._ Why dost thou stare, and look so ungainly? Don't I speak to be
understood?
_Flip._ Yes, I understand you well enough; but Mrs. _Amlet_----
_Clar._ But Mrs. _Amlet_ must lend me some money, where shall I have
any to pay her else?
_Flip._ That's true; I never thought of that truly. But here she is.
_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._
_Clar._ How d'you do? How d'you do, Mrs. _Amlet_? I han't seen you
these thousand years, and yet I believe I'm down in your books.
_Aml._ O, Madam, I don't come for that, alack.
_Flip._ Good-morrow, Mrs. _Amlet_.
_Aml._ Good-morrow, Mrs. _Flippanta_.
_Clar._ How much am I indebted to you, Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ Nay, if your ladyship desires to see your bill, I believe I may
have it about me.--There, Madam, if it ben't too much fatigue to you to
look it over.
_Clar._ Let me see it, for I hate to be in debt, where I am obliged to
pay. [_Aside._]----_Reads._] Imprimis, _For bolstering out the Countess
of ~Crump's~ left hip_----O fy, this does not belong to me.
_Aml._ I beg your Ladyship's pardon. I mistook indeed; 'tis a
countess's bill I have writ out to little purpose. I furnish'd her two
years ago with three pair of hips, and am not paid for them yet: but
some are better customers than some. There's your Ladyship's bill,
Madam.
_Clar._ _For the idea of a new invented commode._----Ay, this may be
mine, but 'tis of a preposterous length. Do you think I can waste time
to read every article, Mrs. _Amlet_? I'd as lief read a sermon.
_Aml._ Alack-a-day, there's no need of fatiguing yourself at that rate;
cast an eye only, if your honour pleases, upon the sum total.
_Clar._ Total; fifty-six pounds--and odd things.
_Flip._ But six and fifty pounds!
_Aml._ Nay, another body would have made it twice as much; but there's
a blessing goes along with a moderate profit.
_Clar._ _Flippanta_, go to my cashier, let him give you six and fifty
pounds. Make haste: don't you hear me? Six and fifty pounds. Is it so
difficult to be comprehended?
_Flip._ No, Madam, I, I comprehend six and fifty pounds, but----
_Clar._ But go and fetch it then.
_Flip._ What she means, I don't know; [_Aside._] but I shall, I
suppose, before I bring her the money.
[_Exit._ Flip.
_Clar._ [_Setting her hair in a pocket glass._] The trade you follow
gives you a great deal of trouble, Mrs. _Amlet_.
_Aml._ Alack-a-day, a world of pain, Madam, and yet there's small
profit, as your honour sees by your bill.
_Clar._ Poor woman! sometimes you have great losses, Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ I have two thousand pounds owing me, of which I shall never get
ten shillings.
_Clar._ Poor woman! You have a great charge of children, Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ Only one wicked rogue, Madam, who I think, will break my heart.
_Clar._ Poor woman!
_Aml._ He'll be hang'd, Madam----that will be the end of him. Where
he gets it, heav'n knows; but he's always shaking his heels with the
ladies, and his elbows with the lords. He's as fine as a prince, and as
grim as the best of them; but the ungracious rogue tells all that comes
near that his mother is dead, and I am but his nurse.
_Clar._ Poor woman!
_Aml._ Alas, Madam, he's like the rest of the world; every body's for
appearing to be more than they are, and that ruins all.
_Clar._ Well, Mrs. _Amlet_, you'll excuse me, I have a little business,
_Flippanta_ will bring you your money presently. Adieu, Mrs. _Amlet_.
[_Exit ~Clarissa~._
_Aml._ I return your honour many thanks [_Sola._] Ah, there's my good
lady, not so much as read her bill; if the rest were like her, I should
soon have money enough to go as fine as _Dick_ himself.
_Enter ~Dick~._
_Dick._ Sure _Flippanta_ must have given my letter by this time;
[_Aside._] I long to know how it has been received.
_Aml._ _Misericorde!_ what do I see!
_Dick._ Fiends and hags--the witch my mother!
_Aml._ Nay, 'tis he! ah, my poor _Dick_, what art thou doing here?
_Dick._ What a misfortune----
[_Aside._
_Aml._ Good lard! how bravely deck'd art thou. But it's all one, I am
thy mother still: and tho' thou art a wicked child, nature will speak,
I love thee still, ah, _Dick_, my poor _Dick_.
[_Embracing him._
_Dick._ Blood and thunder! will you ruin me?
[_Breaking from her._
_Aml._ Ah the blasphemous rogue, how he swears!
_Dick._ You destroy all my hopes.
_Aml._ Will your mother's kiss destroy you, varlet? Thou art an
ungracious bird; kneel down, and ask my blessing, sirrah.
_Dick._ Death and furies!
_Aml._ Ah, he's a proper young man, see what a shape he has: ah, poor
child.
[_Running to embrace him, he still avoiding her._
_Dick._ Oons, keep off, the woman's mad. If any body comes, my
fortune's lost.
_Aml._ What fortune, ah? speak, graceless. Ah _Dick_, thou'lt be
hang'd, _Dick_.
_Dick._ Good, dear mother, now don't call me _Dick_ here.
_Aml._ Not call thee _Dick_! Is not that thy name? What shall I call
thee? Mr. _Amlet_? ha! Art not thou a presumptuous rascal? Hark you,
sirrah, I hear of your tricks; you disown me for your mother, and say
I'm but your nurse. Is not this true?
_Dick._ No, I love you; I respect you; [_Taking her hand._] I am all
duty. But if you discover me here, you ruin the fairest prospect that
man ever had.
_Aml._ What prospect? ha! come, this is a lie now.
_Dick._ No, my honour'd parent, what I say is true, I'm about a great
fortune, I'll bring you home a daughter-in-law, in a coach and six
horses, if you'll but be quiet; I can't tell you more now.
_Aml._ Is it possible!
_Dick._ It's true, by _Jupiter_.
_Aml._ My dear lad----
_Dick._ For Heaven's sake----
_Aml._ But tell me, _Dick_----
_Dick._ I'll follow you home in a moment, and tell you all.
_Aml._ What a shape is there----
_Dick._ Pray mother go.
_Aml._ I must receive some money here first, which shall go for thy
wedding-dinner.
_Dick._ Here's somebody coming; s'death, she'll betray me.
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
[_He makes signs to his Mother._
_Dick._ Good-morrow, dear _Flippanta_; how do all the ladies within?
_Flip._ At your service, Colonel; as far at least as my interest goes.
_Aml._ Colonel!--Law you now, how _Dick_'s respected!
[_Aside._
_Dick._ Waiting for thee, _Flippanta_, I was making acquaintance with
this old gentlewoman here.
_Aml._ The pretty lad, he's as impudent as a Page.
[_Aside._
_Dick._ Who is this good woman, _Flippanta_?
_Flip._ A gin of all trades; an old daggling cheat, that hobbles about
from house to house to bubble the ladies of their money. I have a small
business of your's in my pocket, Colonel.
_Dick._ An answer to my letter?
_Flip._ So quick indeed! No, it's your letter itself.
_Dick._ Hast thou not given it then yet?
_Flip._ I han't had an opportunity; but 'twon't be long first. Won't
you go in and see my Lady?
_Dick._ Yes, I'll go make her a short visit. But dear _Flippanta_,
don't forget: my life and fortune are in your hands.
_Flip._ Ne'er fear, I'll take care of 'em.
_Aml._ How he traps 'em; let _Dick_ alone.
[_Aside._
_Dick._ Your servant, good Madam.
[_To his Mother._
[_Exit ~Dick~._
_Aml._ Your Honour's most devoted.--A pretty, civil, well-bred
gentleman this, Mrs. _Flippanta_. Pray whom may he be?
_Flip._ A man of great note; Colonel _Shapely_.
_Aml._ Is it possible! I have heard much of him indeed, but never saw
him before: one may see quality in every limb of him: he's a fine man
truly.
_Flip._ I think you are in love with him, Mrs. _Amlet_.
_Aml._ Alas, those days are done with me; but if I were as fair as I
was once, and had as much money as some folks, Colonel _Shapely_ should
not catch cold for want of a bed-fellow. I love your men of rank, they
have something in their air does so distinguish 'em from the rascality.
_Flip._ People of Quality are fine things indeed, Mrs. _Amlet_, if they
had but a little more money; but for want of that, they are forced to
do things their great souls are asham'd of. For example--here's my
Lady--she owes you but six and fifty pounds----
_Aml._ Well!
_Flip._ And she has it not by her to pay you.
_Aml._ How can that be?
_Flip._ I don't know; her cash-keeper's out of humour, he says he has
no money.
_Aml._ What a presumptuous piece of vermin is a cash-keeper! Tell his
Lady he has no money?--Now, Mrs. _Flippanta_, you may see his bags are
full by his being so saucy.
_Flip._ If they are, there's no help for't; he'll do what he pleases,
till he comes to make up his yearly accounts.
_Aml._ But Madam plays sometimes, so when she has good fortune, she may
pay me out of her winnings.
_Flip._ O ne'er think of that, Mrs. _Amlet_: if she had won a thousand
pounds, she'd rather die in a gaol, than pay off a farthing with it;
play money, Mrs. _Amlet_, amongst people of quality, is a sacred thing,
and not to be profan'd. 'Tis consecrated to their pleasures, 'twould be
sacrilege to pay their debts with it.
_Aml._ Why what shall we do then? For I han't one penny to buy bread.
_Flip._----I'll tell you----it just now comes in my head: I know my
Lady has a little occasion for money at this time; so----if you lend
her----a hundred pounds----do you see, then she may pay you your six
and fifty out of it.
_Aml._ Sure, Mrs. _Flippanta_, you think to make a fool of me.
_Flip._ No, the Devil fetch me if I do----You shall have a diamond
necklace in pawn.
_Aml._ O ho, a pawn! That's another case. And when must she have this
money?
_Flip._ In a quarter of an hour.
_Aml._ Say no more. Bring the necklace to my house, it shall be ready
for you.
_Flip._ I'll be with you in a moment.
_Aml._ Adieu, Mrs. _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Adieu, Mrs. _Amlet_.
[_Exit ~Amlet~._
_Flippanta ~sola~._
So----this ready money will make us all happy. This spring will set our
basset going, and that's a wheel will turn twenty others. My Lady's
young and handsome; she'll have a dozen intrigues upon her hands,
before she has been twice at her prayers. So much the better; the more
the grist, the richer the miller. Sure never wench got into so hopeful
a place: Here's a fortune to be sold, a mistress to be debauched, and
a master to be ruin'd. If I don't feather my nest, and get a good
husband, I deserve to die both a maid and a beggar.
[Exeunt.
+ACT+ II.
+SCENE+, _Mr._ Gripe's _House_.
_Enter ~Clarissa~ and ~Dick~._
_Clar._ What in the name of dulness is the matter with you, Colonel?
you are as studious as a crack'd chymist.
_Dick._ My head, Madam, is full of your husband.
_Clar._ The worst furniture for a head in the universe.
_Dick._ I am thinking of his passion for your friend _Araminta_.
_Clar._ Passion!----Dear Colonel, give it a less violent name.
_Enter ~Brass~._
_Dick._ Well, Sir, what want you?
_Brass._ The affair I told you of goes ill. [_To ~Dick~, aside._]
There's an action out.
_Dick_. The Devil there is!
_Clar._ What news brings _Brass_?
_Dick._ Before Gad I cannot tell, Madam; the dog will never speak out.
My Lord what-d'ye-call him waits, for me at my lodging: Is not that it?
_Brass._ Yes, Sir.
_Dick._ Madam, I ask your pardon.
_Clar._ Your servant, Sir.
[_Exeunt ~Dick~ and ~Brass~._
_Jessamin!_
[_She sits down._
_Enter ~Jessamin~._
_Jes._ Madam.
_Clar._ Where's _Corinna_? Call her to me, if her father han't lock'd
her up: I want her company.
_Jes._ Madam, her guitar-master is with her.
_Clar._ Psha! she's taken up with her impertinent Guitar-Man.
_Flippanta_ stays an age with that old fool, Mrs. _Amlet_. And
_Araminta_, before she can come abroad, is so long a placing her
coquet-patch, that I must be a year without company. How insupportable
is a moment's uneasiness to a woman of spirit and pleasure!
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
_Clar._ O, art thou come at last? Pr'ythee, _Flippanta_, learn to move
a little quicker, thou know'st how impatient I am.
_Flip._ Yes, when you expect money: If you had sent me to buy a
Prayer-Book, you'd have thought I had flown.
_Clar._ Well, hast thou brought me any, after all?
_Flip._ Yes, I have brought some. There [_Giving her a purse._] the old
hag has struck off her bill, the rest is in that purse.
_Clar._ 'Tis well; but take care, _Flippanta_, my husband don't suspect
any thing of this; 'twould vex him, and I don't love to make him
uneasy: So I would spare him these little sort of troubles, by keeping
'em from his knowledge.
_Flip._ See the tenderness she has for him, and yet he's always
complaining of you.
_Clar._ 'Tis the nature of 'em, _Flippanta_; a husband is a growling
animal.
_Flip._ How exactly you define 'em!
_Clar._ O! I know 'em, _Flippanta_: though I confess my poor wretch
diverts me sometimes with his ill-humours. I wish he wou'd quarrel
with me to-day a little, to pass away the time, for I find myself in a
violent spleen.
_Flip._ Why, if you please to drop yourself in his way, six to four but
he scolds one rubbers with you.
_Clar._ Ay, but thou know'st he's as uncertain as the wind; and if
instead of quarrelling with me, he should chance to be fond, he'd make
me as sick as a dog.
_Flip._ If he's kind, you must provoke him; if he kisses you, spit in
his face.
_Clar._ Alas, when men are in the kissing fit, (like lap-dogs) they
take that for a favour.
_Flip._ Nay, then, I don't know what you'll do with him.
_Clar._ I'll e'en do nothing at all with him----Flippanta.
[_Yawning._
_Flip._ Madam.
_Clar._ My hood and scarf, and a coach to the door.
_Flip._ Why, whither are you going?
_Clar._ I can't tell yet, but I would go spend some money, since I have
it.
_Flip._ Why, you want nothing that I know of.
_Clar._ How aukward an objection now is that, as if a woman of
education bought things because she wanted 'em. Quality always
distinguishes itself; and therefore, as the mechanick people buy
things, because they have occasion for 'em, you see women of rank
always buy things because they have not occasion for 'em. Now, there,
_Flippanta_, you see the difference between a woman that has breeding,
and one that has none. O ho, here's _Araminta_ come at last.
_Enter ~Araminta~._
_Clar._ Lard, what a tedious while you have let me expect you! I was
afraid you were not well; how d'ye do to-day?
_Aram._ As well as a woman can do, that has not slept all night.
_Flip._ Methinks, Madam, you are pretty well-awake, however.
_Aram._ O, 'tis not a little thing will make a woman of my vigour look
drowsy.
_Clar._ But, pr'ythee, what was't disturb'd you?
_Aram._ Not your husband, don't trouble yourself; at least, I am not in
love with him yet.
_Clar._ Well remember'd, I had quite forgot that matter. I wish you
much joy, you have made a noble conquest indeed.
_Aram._ But now I have subdu'd the country, pray is it worth my
keeping? You know the ground, you have try'd it.
_Clar._ A barren soil, heaven can tell.
_Aram._ Yet if it were well cultivated, it would produce something to
my knowledge. Do you know 'tis in my power to ruin this poor thing of
yours? His whole Estate is at my Service.
_Flip._ Cods-fish, strike him, Madam, and let my Lady go your halves.
There's no sin in plundering a husband, so his wife has share of the
booty.
_Aram._ Whenever she gives me her orders, I shall be very ready to obey
'em.
_Clar._ Why, as odd a thing as such a project may seem, _Araminta_, I
believe I shall have a little serious discourse with you about it. But,
pr'ythee, tell me how you have pass'd the night? For I am sure your
mind has been roving upon some pretty thing or other.
_Aram._ Why, I have been studying all the ways my brain could produce
to plague my husband.
_Clar._ No wonder indeed you look so fresh this morning, after the
satisfaction of such pleasing ideas all night.
_Aram._ Why, can a woman do less than study mischief, when she has
tumbled and toss'd herself into a burning-fever, for want of sleep,
and sees a fellow lie snoring by her, stock-still, in a fine breathing
sweat?
_Clar._ Now see the difference of women's tempers: If my dear would
make but one nap of his whole life, and only waken to make his will, I
shou'd be the happiest wife in the universe. But we'll discourse more
of these matters as we go, for I must make a _tour_ among the Shops.
_Aram._ I have a coach waits at the door, we'll talk of 'em as we
rattle along.
_Clar._ The best place in nature, for you know a hackney-coach is a
natural enemy to a husband.
[_Exit ~Clar.~ and ~Aram.~_
_Flippanta ~sola~._
What a pretty little pair of amiable persons are there gone to hold
a council of war together! Poor birds! What would they do with their
time, if the plaguing their husbands did not help 'em to employment!
Well, if idleness be the root of all evil, then matrimony's good for
something, for it sets many a poor woman to work. But here comes Miss.
I hope I shall help her into the Holy State too ere long. And when
she's once there, if she don't play her part as well as the best of
'em, I'm mistaken. Han't I lost the letter I'm to give her?----No, here
'tis; so, now we shall see how pure nature will work with her, for art
she knows none yet.
_Enter ~Corinna~._
_Cor._ What does my mother-in-law want with me, _Flippanta_? They tell
me, she was asking for me.
_Flip._ She's just gone out, so I suppose 'twas no great business.
_Cor._ Then I'll go into my chamber again.
_Flip._ Nay, hold a little if you please. I have some business with you
myself, of more concern than what she had to say to you.
_Cor._ Make haste then, for you know my father won't let me keep you
company; he says, you'll spoil me.
_Flip._ I spoil you! He's an unworthy man to give you such ill
impressions of a woman of my honour.
_Cor._ Nay, never take it to heart, _Flippanta_, for I don't believe a
word he says. But he does so plague me with his continual scolding, I'm
almost weary of my life.
_Flip._ Why, what is't he finds fault with?
_Cor._ Nay, I don't know, for I never mind him; when he has babbled for
two hours together, methinks I have heard a mill going, that's all. It
does not at all change my opinion, _Flippanta_, it only makes my head
ache.
_Flip._ Nay, if you can bear it so, you are not to be pity'd so much as
I thought.
_Cor._ Not pity'd! Why is it not a miserable thing, such a young
creature as I am should be kept in perpetual solitude, with no
other company but a parcel of old fumbling masters to teach me
geography, arithmetic, philosophy, and a thousand useless things. Fine
entertainment, indeed, for a young maid at sixteen! methinks one's time
might be better employ'd.
_Flip._ Those things will improve your wit.
_Cor._ Fiddle-faddle; han't I wit enough already? My mother-in-law has
learn'd none of this trumpery, and is not she as happy as the day is
long?
_Flip._ Then you envy her, I find?
_Cor._ And well I may. Does she not do what she has a mind to, in spite
of her husband's teeth?
_Flip._ Look you there now [_Aside._] if she has not already conceived
that, as the supreme blessing of life.
_Cor._ I'll tell you what, _Flippanta_, if my mother-in-law would but
stand by me a little, and encourage me, and let me keep her company,
I'd rebel against my father to-morrow, and throw all my books in the
fire. Why, he can't touch a groat of my portion; do you know that,
_Flippanta_?
_Flip._ So----I shall spoil her. [_Aside._] Pray heaven the girl don't
debauch me.
_Cor._ Look you: In short, he may think what he pleases, he may think
himself wise: but thoughts are free, and I may think in my turn. I'm
but a girl, 'tis true, and a fool too, if you believe him; but let him
know, a foolish girl may make a wise man's heart ache; so he had as
good be quiet--Now it's out----
_Flip._ Very well, I love to see a young woman have spirit, it's a sign
she'll come to something.
_Cor._ Ah, _Flippanta_, if you wou'd but encourage me, you'll find me
quite another thing. I'm a devilish girl in the bottom; I wish you'd
but let me make one amongst you.
_Flip._ That never can be, 'till you are marry'd. Come, examine your
Strength a little. Do you think, you durst venture upon a husband?
_Cor._ A husband! Why a--if you wou'd but encourage me. Come,
_Flippanta_, be a true friend now. I'll give you advice, when I have
got a little more experience. Do you in your very conscience and soul
think I am old enough to be marry'd?
_Flip._ Old enough! Why you are sixteen, are you not?
_Cor._ Sixteen! I am sixteen, two months, and odd days, woman. I keep
an exact account.
_Flip._ The duce you are!
_Cor._ Why do you then truly and sincerely think I am old enough?
_Flip._ I do, upon my faith, child.
_Cor._ Why then, to deal as fairly with you, _Flippanta_, as you do
with me, I have thought so any time these three years.
_Flip._ Now I find you have more wit than ever I thought you had; and
to shew you what an opinion I have of your discretion, I'll shew you a
thing I thought to have thrown in the fire.
_Cor._ What is it, for _Jupiter_'s sake?
_Flip._ Something will make your heart chuck within you.
_Cor._ My dear _Flippanta_!
_Flip._ What do you think it is?
_Cor._ I don't know, nor I don't care, but I'm mad to have it.
_Flip._ It's a four corner'd thing.
_Cor._ What, like a cardinal's cap?
_Flip._ No, 'tis worth a whole conclave of 'em. How do you like it?
[_Shewing the letter._
_Car._ O Lard, a letter!----Is there ever a token in it?
_Flip._ Yes, and a precious one too. There's a handsome young
gentleman's heart.
_Cor._ A handsome young gentleman's heart! [_Aside._] Nay, then 'tis
time to look grave.
_Flip._ There.
_Cor._ I shan't touch it.
_Flip._ What's the matter now?
_Cor._ I shan't receive it.
_Flip._ Sure you jest.
_Cor._ You'll find I don't. I understand myself better, than to take
letters, when I don't know who they are from.
_Flip._ I am afraid I commended your wit too soon.
_Cor._ 'Tis all one, I shan't touch it, unless I know who it comes from.
_Flip._ Hey-day, open it, and you'll see.
_Cor._ Indeed I shall not.
_Flip._ Well----then I must return it where I had it.
_Cor._ That won't serve your turn, madam. My father must have an
account of this.
_Flip._ Sure you are not in earnest?
_Cor._ You'll find I am.
_Flip._ So, here's fine work. This 'tis to deal with girls before they
come to know the distinction of sexes.
_Cor._ Confess who you had it from, and perhaps, for this once, I
mayn't tell my father.
_Flip._ Why then, since it must out, 'twas the Colonel: But why are you
so scrupulous, madam?
_Cor._ Because if it had come from any body else----I would not have
given a farthing for it.
[_Twitching it eagerly out of her hand._
_Flip._ Ah, my dear little rogue! [_Kissing her._] You frighten'd me
out of my wits.
_Cor._ Let me read it, let me read it, let me read it, let me read
it, I say. Um, um, um, _Cupid_'s um, um, um, _Darts_, um, um,
um, _Beauty_, um, _Charms_, um, um, um, _Angel_, um, _Goddess_,
um--[_Kissing the letter._]--um, um, um, um, _truest Lover_, hum, um,
_Eternal Constancy_, um, um, um, _Cruel_, um, um, um, _Racks_, um, um,
_Tortures_, um, um, _fifty Daggers_, um, um, _bleeding Heart_, um, um,
_dead Man_.
Very well, a mighty civil letter, I promise you; not one smutty word in
it: I'll go lock it up in my comb-box.
_Flip._ Well--but what does he say to you?
_Cor._ Not a word of news, _Flippanta_, 'tis all about business.
_Flip._ Does he not tell you he's in love with you?
_Cor._ Ay, but he told me that before.
_Flip._ How so? He never spoke to you.
_Cor._ He sent me word by his eyes.
_Flip._ Did he so? mighty well. I thought you had been to learn that
language.
_Cor._ O, but you thought wrong, _Flippanta_. What, because I don't go
a visiting, and see the world, you think I know nothing. But you should
consider, _Flippanta_, that the more one's alone, the more one thinks;
and 'tis thinking that improves a girl. I'll have you to know, when I
was younger than I am now, by more than I'll boast of, I thought of
things would have made you stare again.
_Flip._ Well, since you are so well versed in your business, I suppose
I need not inform you, that if you don't write your gallant an
answer--he'll die.
_Cor._ Nay, now, _Flippanta_, I confess you tell me something I did not
know before. Do you speak in serious sadness? Are men given to die, if
their mistresses are sour to 'em?
_Flip._ Um----I can't say they all die----No, I can't say they all do;
but truly, I believe it wou'd go very hard with the Colonel.
_Cor._ Lard, I would not have my hands in blood for thousands; and
therefore, _Flippanta_,----if you'll encourage me----
_Flip._ O, by all means an answer.
_Cor._ Well, since you say it then, I'll e'en in and do it, tho' I
protest to you (lest you should think me too forward now) he's the only
man that wears a beard, I'd ink my fingers for. May be, if I marry him,
in a year or two's time I mayn't be so nice.
[_Aside._
[_Exit ~Corinna~._
_Flippanta ~sola~._
Now heaven give him joy: he's like to have a rare wife o'thee.
But where there's money, a man has a plaister to his sore. They
have a blessed time on't, who marry for love. See!--here comes an
example----_Araminta_'s dread lord.
_Enter ~Money-trap~._
_Mon._ Ah, _Flippanta_! How do you do, good _Flippanta_! How do you do?
_Flip._ Thank you, Sir, well, at your service.
_Mon._ And how does the good family, your master, and your fair
mistress? Are they at home?
_Flip._ Neither of them; my master has been gone out these two hours,
and my lady is just gone with your wife.
_Mon._ Well, I won't say I have lost my labour however, as long as I
have met with you, _Flippanta_. For I have wish'd a great while for an
opportunity to talk with you a little. You won't take it amiss, if I
should ask you a few questions?
_Flip._ Provided you leave me to my liberty in my answers. What's this
Cot-quean going to pry into now?
[_Aside._
_Mon._ Pr'ythee, good _Flippanta_, how do your master and mistress live
together?
_Flip._ Live! Why--like man and wife, generally out of humour, quarrel
often, seldom agree, complain of one another; and perhaps have both
reason. In short, 'tis much as 'tis at your house.
_Mon._ Good-lack! but whose side are you generally of?
_Flip._ O' the right side always, my lady's. And if you'll have me give
you my opinion of these matters, Sir, I do not think a husband can ever
be in the right.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ Little, peeking, creeping, sneaking, stingy, covetous,
cowardly, dirty, cuckoldy things.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ Fit for nothing but taylors and dry-nurses.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A dog in a manger, snarling and biting, to starve gentlemen
with good stomachs.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A centry upon pleasure, set to be a plague on lovers, and damn
poor women before their time.
_Mon._ A husband is indeed----
_Flip._ Sir, I say he is nothing----A beetle without wings, a windmill
without sails, a ship in a calm.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A bag without money----an empty bottle----dead small beer.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A quack without drugs.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A lawyer without knavery.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A courtier without flattery.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ A king without an army----or a people with one. Have I drawn
him, Sir?
_Mon._ Why truly, _Flippanta_, I can't deny but there are some general
lines of resemblance. But you know there may be exceptions.
_Flip._ Hark you, Sir, shall I deal plainly with you? Had I got a
husband, I wou'd put him in mind, that he was marry'd as well as I.
Sings.
_For were I the thing call'd a wife,
And my fool grew too fond of his pow'r,
He shou'd look like an ass all his life,
For a prank that I'd play him in an hour._
Tol lol la ra tol lol, _&c._--Do you observe that, Sir?
_Mon._ I do: and think you wou'd be in the right on't. But, pr'ythee,
why dost not give this advice to thy mistress?
_Flip._ For fear it should go round to your wife, Sir, for you know
they are play-fellows.
_Mon._ O, there's no danger of my wife; she knows I'm none of those
husbands.
_Flip._ Are you sure she knows that, Sir?
_Mon._ I'm sure she ought to know it, _Flippanta_, for really I have
but four faults in the world.
_Flip._ And, pray what may they be?
_Mon._ Why I'm a little slovenly, I shift but once a week.
_Flip._ Fough!
_Mon._ I am sometimes out of humour.
_Flip._ Provoking!
_Mon._ I don't give her so much money as she'd have.
_Flip._ Insolent!
_Mon._ And a----perhaps I mayn't be quite so young as I was.
_Flip._ The devil!
_Mon._ O, but then consider how 'tis on her side, _Flippanta_. She
ruins me with washing, is always out of humour, ever wanting money, and
will never be older.
_Flip._ That last article, I must confess, is a little hard upon you.
_Mon._ Ah, _Flippanta_, didst thou but know the daily provocations
I have, thoud'st be the first to excuse my faults. But now I think
on't----Thou art none of my friend, thou dost not love me at all; no,
not at all.
_Flip._ And whither is this little reproach going to lead us now?
_Mon._ You have power over your fair mistress, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Sir!
_Mon._ But what then? You hate me.
_Flip._ I understand you not.
_Mon._ There's not a moment's trouble her naughty husband gives her,
but I feel it too.
_Flip._ I don't know what you mean.
_Mon._ If she did but know what part I take in her sufferings----
_Flip._ Mighty obscure.
_Mon._ Well, I'll say no more; but----
_Flip._ All Hebrew.
_Mon._ If thou wou'dst but tell her on't.
_Flip._ Still darker and darker.
_Mon._ I should not be ungrateful.
_Flip._ Ah, now I begin to understand you.
_Mon._ _Flippanta_--there's my purse.
_Flip._ Say no more; now you explain, indeed----You are in love?
_Mon._ Bitterly--and I do swear by all the Gods----
_Flip._ Hold----Spare 'em for another time, you stand in no need of 'em
now. A usurer that parts with his purse, gives sufficient proof of his
sincerity.
_Mon._ I hate my wife, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ That we'll take upon your bare word.
_Mon._ She's the devil, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ You like your neighbour's better.
_Mon._ Oh!----an angel.
_Flip._ What pity it is the law don't allow trucking!
_Mon._ If it did, _Flippanta_!
_Flip._ But since it don't, Sir----keep the reins upon your passion:
Don't let your flame rage too high, lest my lady shou'd be cruel, and
it should dry you up to a mummy.
_Mon._ 'Tis impossible she can be so barbarous, to let me die. Alas,
_Flippanta_, a very small matter wou'd save my life.
_Flip._ Then y'are dead--for we women never grant any thing to a man
who will be satisfied with a little.
_Mon._ Dear _Flippanta_, that was only my modesty; but since you'll
have it out----I am a very dragon; and so your lady'll find----if ever
she thinks fit to be----Now I hope you'll stand my friend.
_Flip._ Well, Sir, as far as my credit goes, it shall be employ'd in
your service.
_Mon._ My best _Flippanta_--tell her--I'm all hers--tell her--my body's
hers--tell her--my soul's hers--and tell her--my estate's hers. Lord
have mercy upon me, how I'm in love!
_Flip._ Poor man! what a sweat he's in! But hark--I hear my master; for
heaven's sake compose yourself a little; you are in such a fit, o' my
conscience he'll smell you out.
_Mon._ Ah dear, I'm in such an emotion, I dare not be seen; put me in
this closet for a moment.
_Flip._ Closet, man! it's too little, your love wou'd stifle you. Go
air yourself in the garden a little, you have need on't, i'faith.
[_She puts him out._
_~Flippanta~ sola._
A rare adventure, by my troth. This will be curious news to the wives.
Fortune has now put their husbands into their hands, and I think they
are too sharp to neglect its favours.
_Enter ~Gripe~._
_Gripe._ O, here's the right hand; the rest of the body can't be far
off. Where's my wife, huswife?
_Flip._ An admirable question!----Why, she's gone abroad, Sir.
_Gripe._ Abroad, abroad, abroad already? Why, she uses to be stewing in
her bed three hours after this time, as late as 'tis: What makes her
gadding so soon?
_Flip._ Business, I suppose.
_Gripe._ Business! she has a pretty head for business truly: O ho, let
her change her way of living, or I'll make her change a light heart for
a heavy one.
_Flip._ And why would you have her change her way of living, Sir? You
see it agrees with her. She never look'd better in her life.
_Gripe._ Don't tell me of her looks, I have done with her looks long
since. But I'll make her change her life, or----
_Flip._ Indeed. Sir, you won't.
_Gripe._ Why, what shall hinder me, insolence?
_Flip._ That which hinders most husbands; contradiction.
_Gripe._ Suppose I resolve I won't be contradicted?
_Flip._ Suppose she resolves you shall?
_Gripe._ A wife's resolution is not good by law.
_Flip._ Nor a husband's by custom.
_Gripe._ I tell thee I will not bear it.
_Flip._ I tell you, Sir, you will bear it.
_Gripe._ Oons, I have borne it three years already.
_Flip._ By that you see 'tis but giving your mind to it.
_Gripe._ My mind to it! Death and the devil! My mind to it!
_Flip._ Look ye, Sir, you may swear and damn, and call the furies to
assist you! but 'till you apply the remedy to the right place, you'll
never cure the disease. You fancy you have got an extravagant wife,
is't not so?
_Gripe._ Pr'ythee change me that word fancy, and it is so.
_Flip._ Why there's it. Men are strangely troubled with the vapours of
late. You'll wonder now if I tell you, you have the most reasonable
wife in town: And that all the disorders you think you see in her, are
only here, here, here, in your own head.
[_Thumping his forehead._
_Gripe._ She is then, in thy opinion, a reasonable woman?
_Flip._ By my faith, I think so.
_Gripe._ I shall run mad--Name me an extravagance in the world she is
not guilty of.
_Flip._ Name me an extravagance in the world she is guilty of.
_Gripe._ Come then: Does not she put the whole house in disorder?
_Flip._ Not that I know of, for she never comes into it but to sleep.
_Gripe._ 'Tis very well: Does she employ any one moment of her life in
the government of her family?
_Flip._ She is so submissive a wife, she leaves it entirely to you.
_Gripe._ Admirable! Does she not spend more money in coach-hire, and
chair-hire, than would maintain six children?
_Flip._ She's too nice of your credit to be seen daggling in the
streets.
_Gripe._ Good! Do I set eye on her sometimes in a week together?
_Flip._ That, Sir, is because you are never stirring at the same time;
you keep odd hours; you are always going to bed when she's rising, and
rising just when she's coming to bed.
_Gripe._ Yes, truly, night into day, and day into night, bawdy-house
play, that's her trade; but these are trifles: Has she not lost her
diamond necklace? Answer me to that, Trapes.
_Flip._ Yes; and has sent as many tears after it, as if it had been her
husband.
_Gripe._ Ah----the pox take her; but enough. 'Tis resolv'd, and I will
put a stop to the course of her life, or I will put a stop to the
course of her blood, and so she shall know, the first time I meet with
her; [_Aside._] which tho' we are man and wife, and lie under one roof,
'tis very possible may not be this fortnight.
[_Exit ~Gripe~._
_~Flippanta~ sola._
Nay, thou hast a blessed time on't, that must be confess'd. What a
miserable devil is a husband! Insupportable to himself, and a plague
to every thing about them. Their wives do by them, as children do by
dogs, teaze and provoke 'em, 'till they make them so curs'd, they snarl
and bite at every thing that comes in their reach. This wretch here is
grown perverse to that degree, he's for his wife's keeping home, and
making hell of his house, so he may be the devil in it to torment her.
How niggardly soever he is of all things he possesses, he is willing to
purchase her misery at the expence of his own peace. But he'd as good
be still, for he'll miss of his aim. If I know her (which I think I do)
she'll set his blood in such a ferment, it shall bubble out at every
pore of him; whilst hers is so quiet in her veins, her pulse shall go
like a pendulum.
[_Exit._
+ACT+ III.
+SCENE+, _Mrs._ Amlet's _House_.
_Enter ~Dick~._
Where's this old woman?----A hey. What the devil, nobody at home?
Ha! her strong box!----And the key in't! 'tis so. Now fortune be my
friend. What the duce----Not a penny of money in cash!----Nor a chequer
note!----Nor a Bank bill----[_Searching the strong box._]----Nor a
crooked stick! Nor a----Mum----here's something----A diamond necklace,
by all the Gods! Oons the old woman----Zest.
[_Claps the necklace in his pocket, then runs and asks her
blessing._]
_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._
----Pray mother, pray to, _&c._
_Aml._ Is it possible!----_Dick_ upon his humble knee! Ah my dear
child!----May heaven be good unto thee.
_Dick._ I'm come, my dear mother, to pay my duty to you, and to ask
your consent to----
_Aml._ What a shape is there!
_Dick._ To ask your consent, I say, to marry a great fortune; for what
is riches in this world without a blessing? And how can there be a
blessing without respect and duty to parents?
_Aml._ What a nose he has!
_Dick._ And therefore it being the duty of every good child not to
dispose of himself in marriage, without the----
_Aml._ Now the Lord love thee [_Kissing him._]----for thou art a goodly
young man: Well, Dick----And how goes it with the lady? Are her eyes
open to thy charms? Does she see what's for her own good? Is she
sensible of the blessings thou hast in store for her? Ha! is all sure?
Hast thou broke a piece of money with her? Speak, bird, do: Don't be
modest, and hide thy love from thy mother, for I'm an indulgent parent.
_Dick._ Nothing under heaven can prevent my good fortune, but its being
discover'd I'm your son----
_Aml._ Then thou art still asham'd of thy natural mother.--Graceless!
Why, I'm no whore, sirrah.
_Dick._ I know you are not----A whore! Bless us all----
_Aml._ No; My reputation's as good as the best of 'em; and tho' I'm
old, I'm chaste, you rascal you.
_Dick._ Lord, that is not the thing we talk of, mother; but----
_Aml._ I think, as the world goes, they may be proud of marrying their
daughter into a vartuous family.
_Dick._ Oons, vartue is not the case----
_Aml._ Where she may have a good example before her eyes.
_Dick._ O Lord! O Lord! O Lord!
_Aml._ I'm a woman that don't so much as encourage an incontinent look
towards me.
_Dick._ I tell you, 'sdeath, I tell you----
_Aml._ If a man shou'd make an uncivil motion to me, I'd spit in his
lascivious face: And all this you may tell them, sirrah.
_Dick._ Death and furies! the woman's out of her--
_Aml._ Don't you swear, you rascal you, don't you swear; we shall have
thee damn'd at last, and then I shall be disgrac'd.
_Dick._ Why then in cold blood hear me speak to you: I tell you it's
a city-fortune I'm about, she cares not a fig for your virtue; she'll
hear of nothing but quality: She has quarrell'd with one of her friends
for having a better complexion, and is resolved she'll marry, to take
place of her.
_Aml._ What a cherry lip is there!
_Dick._ Therefore, good dear mother, now have a care and don't discover
me; for if you do, all's lost.
_Aml._ Dear, dear, how thy fair bride will be delighted: Go, get
thee gone, go: Go fetch her home, go fetch her home; I'll give her a
sack-posset, and a pillow of down she shall lay her head upon. Go fetch
her home, I say.
_Dick._ Take care then of the main chance, my dear mother; remember, if
you discover me----
_Aml._ Go, fetch her home, I say.
_Dick._ You promise me then----
_Aml._ March.
_Dick._ But swear to me----
_Aml._ Be gone, sirrah.
_Dick._ Well, I'll rely upon you--But one kiss before I go.
[_Kisses her heartily, and runs off._
_Aml._ Now the Lord love thee! for thou art a comfortable young man.
[_Exit Mrs. ~Amlet~._
+SCENE+, Gripe's _House_.
_Enter ~Corinna~ and ~Flippanta~._
_Cor._ But hark you, _Flippanta_, if you don't think he loves me
dearly, don't give him my letter, after all.
_Flip._ Let me alone.
_Cor._ When he has read it, let him give it you again.
_Flip._ Don't trouble yourself.
_Cor._ And not a word of the pudding to my mother-in-law.
_Flip._ Enough.
_Cor._ When we come to love one another to the purpose, she shall know
all.
_Flip._ Ay, then 'twill be time.
_Cor._ But remember 'tis you make me do all this now, so if any
mischief comes on't, 'tis you must answer for't.
_Flip._ I'll be your security.
_Cor._ I'm young, and know nothing of the matter; but you have
experience, so it's your business to conduct me safe.
_Flip._ Poor innocence!
_Cor._ But tell me in serious sadness, _Flippanta_, does he love me
with the very soul of him?
_Flip._ I have told you so an hundred times, and yet you are not
satisfied.
_Cor._ But, methinks, I'd fain have him tell me so himself.
_Flip._ Have patience, and it shall be done.
_Cor._ Why, patience is a virtue; that we must all confess----But I
fancy, the sooner it's done the better, _Flippanta_.
_Enter ~Jessamin~._
_Jess._ Madam, yonder's your Geography-Master waiting for you.
[_Exit._
_Cor._ Ah! how I am tir'd with these old fumbling fellows, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Well, don't let 'em break your heart, you shall be rid of them
all ere long.
_Cor._ Nay, 'tis not the study I'm so weary of, _Flippanta_, 'tis the
odious thing that teaches me. Were the Colonel my master, I fancy I
could take pleasure in learning every thing he could shew me.
_Flip._ And he can shew you a great deal, I can tell you that. But get
you gone in, here's somebody coming, we must not be seen together.
_Cor._ I will, I will, I will----O the dear Colonel.
[_Running off._
_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._
_Flip._ O ho, it's Mrs. _Amlet_----What brings you so soon to us again,
Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ Ah! my dear Mrs. _Flippanta_, I'm in a furious fright.
_Flip._ Why, what's come to you?
_Aml._ Ah! Mercy on us all----Madam's diamond necklace----
_Flip._ What of that?
_Aml._ Are you sure you left it at my house?
_Flip._ Sure I left it! a very pretty question truly!
_Aml._ Nay, don't be angry; say nothing to madam of it, I beseech you:
It will be found again, if it be heaven's good will. At least 'tis I
must bear the loss on't. 'Tis my rogue of a son has laid his birdlime
fingers on't.
_Flip._ Your son, Mrs. _Amlet_! Do you breed your children up to such
tricks as these then?
_Aml._ What shall I say to you, Mrs. _Flippanta_? Can I help it? He has
been a rogue from his cradle, _Dick_ has. But he has his deserts too.
And now it comes in my head, mayhap he may have no ill design in this
neither.
_Flip._ No ill design, woman! He's a pretty fellow if he can steal a
diamond necklace with a good one.
_Aml._ You don't know him, Mrs. _Flippanta_, so well as I that bore
him. _Dick_'s a rogue, 'tis true, but----Mum----
_Flip._ What does the woman mean?
_Aml._ Hark you, Mrs. _Flippanta_, is not here a young gentlewoman in
your house that wants a husband?
_Flip._ Why do you ask?
_Aml._ By way of conversation only, it does not concern me; but when
she marries I may chance to dance at the wedding. Remember I tell you
so: I who am but Mrs. _Amlet_.
_Flip._ You dance at her wedding! you!
_Aml._ Yes, I, I; but don't trouble madam about her necklace, perhaps
it mayn't go out of the family. Adieu, Mrs. _Flippanta_.
[_Exit Mrs. ~Amlet~._
_Flip._ What--what--what does the woman mean? Mad! What a capilotade of
a story's here? The necklace lost; and her son Dick; and a fortune to
marry; and she shall dance at the wedding; and----She does not intend,
I hope, to propose a match between her son _Dick_ and _Corinna_! By my
conscience I believe she does. An old beldam!
_Enter ~Brass~._
_Brass._ Well, hussy, how stand our affairs? Has miss writ us an answer
yet? My master's very impatient yonder.
_Flip._ And why the duce does he not come himself? What does he send
such idle fellows as thee of his errands? Here I had her alone just
now: He won't have such an opportunity again this month, I can tell him
that.
_Brass._ So much the worse for him; 'tis his business----But now, my
dear, let thee and I talk a little of our own: I grow most damnably in
love with thee; dost hear that?
_Flip._ Phu! thou art always timeing things wrong; my head is full, at
present, of more important things than love.
_Brass._ Then it's full of important things indeed: Dost want a
privy-counsellor?
_Flip._ I want an assistant.
_Brass._ To do what?
_Flip._ Mischief.
_Brass._ I'm thy man----touch.
_Flip._ But before I venture to let thee into my project, pr'ythee tell
me, whether thou find'st a natural disposition to ruin a husband to
oblige his wife?
_Brass._ Is she handsome?
_Flip._ Yes.
_Brass._ Why then my disposition's at her service.
_Flip._ She's beholden to thee.
_Brass._ Not she alone neither, therefore don't let her grow vain
upon't; for I have three or four affairs of that kind going at this
time.
_Flip._ Well, go carry this epistle from miss to thy master; and when
thou com'st back, I'll tell thee thy business.
_Brass._ I'll know it before I go, if you please.
_Flip._ Thy master waits for an answer.
_Brass._ I'd rather he should wait than I.
_Flip._ Why then, in short, _Araminta_'s husband is in love with my
lady.
_Brass._ Very well, child, we have a _Rowland_ for her _Oliver_: Thy
lady's husband is in love with _Araminta_.
_Flip._ Who told you that, sirrah?
_Brass._ 'Tis a negociation I am charged with, Pert. Did not I tell
thee I did business for half the town? I have managed Master _Gripe_'s
little affairs for him these ten years, you slut you.
_Flip._ Hark thee, _Brass_, the game's in our hands, if we can but play
the cards.
_Brass._ Pique and repique, you jade you, if the wives will fall into a
good intelligence.
_Flip._ Let them alone; I'll answer for them they don't slip the
occasion.----See here they come. They little think what a piece of good
news we have for 'em.
_Enter ~Clarissa~ and ~Araminta~._
_Clar._ _Jessamin_! here, boy, carry up these things into my
dressing-room, and break as many of them by the way as you can, be
sure.----O! art thou there, _Brass_! What news?
_Brass._ Madam, I only call'd in as I was going by----But some little
propositions Mrs. _Flippanta_ has been starting have kept me here to
offer your ladyship my humble service.
_Clar._ What propositions?
_Brass._ She'll acquaint you, madam.
_Aram._ Is there any thing new, _Flippanta_?
_Flip._ Yes, and pretty too.
_Clar._ That follows of course, but let's have it quick.
_Flip._ Why, Madam, you have made a conquest.
_Clar._ Hussy----But of who? quick.
_Flip._ Of Mr. _Money-trap_, that's all.
_Aram._ My husband?
_Flip._ Yes, your husband, Madam: You thought fit to corrupt ours, so
now we are even with you.
_Aram._ Sure thou art in jest, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Serious as my devotions.
_Brass._ And the cross intrigue, ladies, is what our brains have been
at work about.
_Aram._ My dear!
[_To ~Clarissa~._
_Clar._ My life!
_Aram._ My angel!
_Clar._ My soul!
[_Hugging one another._
_Aram._ The stars have done this.
_Clar._ The pretty little twinklers.
_Flip._ And what will you do for them now?
_Clar._ What grateful creatures ought; shew 'em we don't despise their
favours.
_Aram._ But is not this a wager between these two blockheads?
_Clar._ I would not give a shilling to go the winner's halves.
_Aram._ Then 'tis the most fortunate thing that ever cou'd have
happen'd.
_Clar._ All your last night's ideas, _Araminta_, were trifles to it.
_Aram._ _Brass_, my dear, will be useful to us.
_Brass._ At your service, Madam.
_Clar._ _Flippanta_ will be necessary, my life!
_Flip._ She waits your commands, Madam.
_Aram._ For my part then, I recommend my husband to thee, _Flippanta_,
and make it my earnest request thou won't leave him one half-crown.
_Flip._ I'll do all I can to obey you, Madam.
_Brass._ [_To ~Clarissa~._] If your ladyship wou'd give me the same
kind orders for yours.
_Clar._ O----if thou spar'st him, _Brass_, I'm thy enemy till I die.
_Brass._ 'Tis enough, Madam, I'll be sure to give you a reasonable
account of him. But how do you intend we shall proceed, ladies? Must
we storm the purse at once, or break ground in form, and carry it by
little and little?
_Clar._ Storm, dear _Brass_, storm: ever whilst you live, storm.
_Aram._ O by all means; must it not be so, _Flippanta_?
_Flip._ In four and twenty hours, two hundred pounds a-piece, that's my
sentence.
_Brass._ Very well. But, ladies, you'll give me leave to put you in
mind of some little expence in favours, 'twill be necessary you are at,
to these honest gentlemen.
_Aram._ Favours, _Brass_!
_Brass._ Um----a----some small matters, Madam, I doubt must be.
_Clar._ Now that's a vile article, _Araminta_; for that thing your
husband is so like mine----
_Flip._ Phu, there's a scruple, indeed. Pray, Madam, don't be so
squeamish; tho' the meat be a little flat, we'll find you savoury sauce
to it.
_Clar._ This wench is so mad.
_Flip._ Why, what in the name of _Lucifer_, is it you have to do,
that's so terrible?
_Brass._ A civil look only.
_Aram._ There's no great harm in that.
_Flip._ An obliging word.
_Clar._ That one may afford 'em.
_Brass._ A little smile, _a propos_.
_Aram._ That's but giving one's self an air.
_Flip._ Receive a little letter, perhaps.
_Clar._ Women of quality do that from fifty odious fellows.
_Brass._ Suffer, may be, a squeeze by the hand.
_Aram._ One's so us'd to that, one does not feel it.
_Flip._ Or if a kiss wou'd do't?
_Clar._ I'd die first.
_Brass._ Indeed, ladies, I doubt 'twill be necessary to--
_Clar._ Get their wretched money without paying so dear for it.
_Flip._ Well, just as you please for that, my ladies: But I suppose
you'll play upon the square with your favours, and not pique yourselves
upon being one more grateful than another.
_Brass._ And state a fair account of receipts and disbursements.
_Aram._ That I think should be, indeed.
_Clar._ With all my heart, and _Brass_ shall be our book-keeper. So get
thee to work, man, as fast as thou canst: but not a word of all this to
my master.
_Brass._ I'll observe my orders, Madam.
[_Exit ~Brass~._
_Clar._ I'll have the pleasure of telling him myself; he'll be
violently delighted with it: 'tis the best man in the world,
_Araminta_; he'll bring us rare company to-morrow, all sorts of
gamesters; and thou shalt see my husband will be such a beast to be out
of humour at it.
_Aram._ The monster----But hush, here's my dear approaching; pr'ythee
let's leave him to _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Ah, pray do, I'll bring you a good account of him, I'll warrant
you.
_Clar._ Dispatch then, for the basset-table's in haste.
[_Exit ~Clar.~ and ~Aram.~_
_~Flippanta~ sola._
So, now have at him; here he comes: We'll try if we can pillage the
usurer, as he does other folks.
_Enter ~Money-trap~._
_Mon._ Well, my pretty _Flippanta_, is thy mistress come home?
_Flip._ Yes, Sir.
_Mon._ And where is she, pr'ythee?
_Flip._ Gone abroad, Sir.
_Mon._ How dost mean?
_Flip._ I mean right, Sir; my lady'll come home and go abroad ten times
in an hour, when she's either in very good humour, or very bad.
_Mon._ Good lack! But I'll warrant, in general, 'tis her naughty
husband that makes her house uneasy to her. But hast thou said a little
something to her, chicken, for an expiring lover? ha!
_Flip._ Said----yes, I have said, much good may it do me.
_Mon._ Well! and how?
_Flip._ And how!----And how do you think you would have me do't? And
you have such a way with you, one can refuse you nothing. But I have
brought myself into a fine business by it.
_Mon._ Good lack:----But, I hope, _Flippanta_--
_Flip._ Yes, your hopes will do much, when I am turn'd out of doors.
_Mon._ Was she then terrible angry?
_Flip._ Oh! had you seen how she flew, when she saw where I was
pointing; for you must know I went round the bush and round the bush,
before I came to the matter.
_Mon._ Nay, 'tis a ticklish point, that must be own'd.
_Flip._ On my word is it----I mean where a lady's truly virtuous; for
that's our case you must know.
_Mon._ A very dangerous case indeed.
_Flip._ But I can tell you one thing----she has an inclination to you.
_Mon._ Is it possible!
_Flip._ Yes, and I told her so at last.
_Mon._ Well, and what did she answer thee?
_Flip._ Slap----and bid me bring it you for a token.
[_Giving him a slap on the face._
_Mon._ And you have lost none on't by the way, with a pox t'ye.
[_Aside._
_Flip._ Now this, I think, looks the best in the world.
_Mon._ Yea, but really it feels a little oddly.
_Flip._ Why, you must know, ladies have different ways of expressing
their kindness, according to the humour they are in: if she had been in
a good one, it had been a kiss; but as long as she sent you something,
your affairs go well.
_Mon._ Why, truly, I am a little ignorant in the mysterious parts of
love, so I must be guided by thee. But pr'ythee take her in a good
humour next token she sends me.
_Flip._ Ah----good humour?
_Mon._ What's the matter?
_Flip._ Poor lady!
_Man._ Ha!
_Flip._ If I durst tell you all----
_Mon._ What then?
_Flip._ You would not expect to see her in one a good while.
_Mon._ Why, I pray?
_Flip._ I must own I did take an unseasonable time to talk of
love-matters to her.
_Mon._ Why, what's the matter?
_Flip._ Nothing.
_Mon._ Nay, pr'ythee tell me.
_Flip._ I dare not.
_Mon._ You must indeed.
_Flip._ Why, when women are in difficulties, how can they think of
pleasure?
_Mon._ Why, what difficulties can she be in?
_Flip._ Nay, I do but guess after all; for she has that grandeur of
soul, she'd die before she'd tell.
_Mon._ But what dost thou suspect?
_Flip._ Why, what should one suspect, where a husband loves nothing but
getting of money, and a wife nothing but spending on't?
_Mon._ So she wants that same, then?
_Flip._ I say no such thing, I know nothing of the matter; pray make no
wrong interpretation of what I say, my Lady wants nothing that I know
of. 'Tis true----she has had ill luck at cards of late, I believe she
has not won once this month: but what of that?
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ 'Tis true, I know her spirit's that she'd see her husband
hanged before she'd ask him for a farthing.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ And then I know him again, he'd see her drown'd before he'd
give her a farthing; but that's a help to your affair, you know.
_Mon._ 'Tis so, indeed.
_Flip._ Ah----well, I'll say nothing; but if she had none of these
things to fret her----
_Mon._ Why really, _Flippanta_----
_Flip._ I know what you are going to say now; you are going to offer
your service, but 'twon't do; you have a mind to play the gallant now,
but it must not be; you want to be shewing your liberality, but 'twon't
be allowed; you'll be pressing me to offer it, and she'll be in a rage.
We shall have the Devil to do.
_Mon._ You mistake me, _Flippanta_, I was only going to say----
_Flip._ Ay, I know what you were going to say well enough; but
I tell you it will never do so. If one cou'd find out some way
now----ay----let me see----
_Mon._ Indeed I hope----
_Flip._ Pray be quiet----no----but I'm thinking----hum----she'll smoke
that tho'----let us consider--If one you'd find a way to----'Tis the
nicest point in the world to bring about, she'll never touch it, if she
knows from whence it comes.
_Mon._ Shall I try if I can reason her husband out of twenty pounds, to
make her easy the rest of her life?
_Flip._ Twenty pounds, man?----why you shall see her set that upon a
card. O----she has a great soul.----Besides, if her husband should
oblige her, it might, in time, take off her aversion to him, and by
consequence, her inclination to you. No, no, it must never come that
way.
_Mon._ What shall we do then?
_Flip._ Hold still----I have it. I'll tell you what you shall do.
_Mon._ Ay.
_Flip._ You shall make her a restitution of two hundred pounds.
_Mon._ Ha! Restitution!
_Flip._ Yes, yes, 'tis the luckiest thought in the world; Madam often
plays, you know, and folks who do so, meet now and then with sharpers.
Now you shall be a sharper.
_Mon._ A sharper!
_Flip._ Ay, ay, a sharper; and having cheated her of two hundred
pounds, shall be troubled in mind, and send it her back again. You
comprehend me?
_Mon._ Yes, I comprehend, but a----won't she suspect if it be so much?
_Flip._ No, no, the more the better.
_Mon._ Two hundred pounds!
_Flip._ Yes, two hundred pounds----Or let me see----so even a sum may
look a little suspicious----ay----let it be two hundred and thirty;
that odd thirty will make it look so natural, the devil won't find it
out.
_Mon._ Ha!
_Flip._ Pounds, too, look I don't know how; guineas I fancy were
better----ay, guineas, it shall be guineas. You are of that mind, are
you not?
_Mon._ Um----a guinea, you know, _Flippanta_, is--
_Flip._ A thousand times genteeler, you are certainly in the right
on't; it shall be as you say, two hundred and thirty guineas.
_Mon._ Ho----well, if it must be guineas, let's see, two hundred
guineas.
_Flip._ And thirty; two hundred and thirty: If you mistake the sum, you
spoil all. So go put them in a purse, while it's fresh in your head,
and send 'em to me with a penitential letter, desiring I'll do you the
favour to restore them to her.
_Mon._ Two hundred and thirty pounds in a bag!
_Flip._ Guineas, I say, guineas.
_Mon._ Ay, guineas, that's true. But _Flippanta_, if she don't know
they come from me, then I give my money for nothing, you know.
_Flip._ Phu, leave that to me, I'll manage the flock for you; I'll make
it produce something I'll warrant you.
_Mon._ Well, _Flippanta_, 'tis a great sum indeed; but I'll go try what
I can do for her. You say, two hundred guineas in a purse?
_Flip._ And thirty; if the man's in his senses.
_Mon._ And thirty, 'tis true, I always forget that thirty.
[_Exit ~Money-trap~._
_Flip._ So, get thee gone, thou art a rare fellow, i'faith.
Brass!----it's thee, is't not?
_Enter ~Brass~._
_Brass._ It is, Huswife. How go matters? I staid till thy gentleman was
gone. Hast done any thing towards our common purse?
_Flip._ I think I have; he's going to make us a restitution of two or
three hundred pounds.
_Brass._ A restitution!----good.
_Flip._ A new way, sirrah, to make a lady take a present without
putting her to the blush.
_Brass._ 'Tis very well, mighty well indeed. Pr'ythee where's thy
master? let me try if I can perswade him to be troubled in mind too.
_Flip._ Not so hasty; he's gone into his closet to prepare himself for
a quarrel, I have advis'd him to----with his wife.
_Brass._ What to do?
_Flip._ Why to make her stay at home, now she has resolved to do it
beforehand. You must know, sirrah, we intend to make a merit of our
basset table, and get a good pretence for the merry companions we
intend to fill his house with.
_Brass._ Very nicely spun, truly, thy husband will be a happy man.
_Flip._ Hold your tongue, you fool you. See here comes your master.
_Brass._ He's welcome.
_Enter ~Dick~._
_Dick._ My dear _Flippanta_! how many thanks have I to pay thee?
_Flip._ Do you like her style?
_Dick._ The kindest little rogue! there's nothing but she gives me
leave to hope. I am the happiest man the world has in its care.
_Flip._ Not so happy as you think for neither, perhaps; you have a
rival, Sir, I can tell you that.
_Dick._ A rival!
_Flip._ Yes, and a dangerous one too.
_Dick._ Who in the name of terror?
_Flip._ A devilish fellow, one Mr. _Amlet_.
_Dick._ _Amlet_! I know no such man.
_Flip._ You know the man's mother tho'; you met her here, and are in
her favour, I can tell you. If he worst you, in your mistress, you
shall e'en marry her and disinherit him.
_Dick._ If I have no other rival but Mr. _Amlet_, I believe I shan't be
disturb'd in my amour. But can't I see _Corinna_?
_Flip._ I don't know, she has always some of her masters with her: but
I'll go and see if she can spare you a moment, and bring you word.
[_Exit ~Flippanta~._
_Dick._ I wish my old hobbling mother han't been blabbing something
here she should not do.
_Brass._ Fear nothing, all's safe on that side yet. But, how speaks
young mistress's epistle? soft and tender?
_Dick._ As pen can write.
_Brass._ So you think all goes well there?
_Dick._ As my heart can wish.
_Brass._ You are sure on't?
_Dick._ Sure on't!
_Brass._ Why then, ceremony aside, [_Putting on his hat._] You and I
must have a little talk, Mr. _Amlet_.
_Dick._ Ah, _Brass_, what art thou going to do? Wou't ruin me?
_Brass._ Look you, _Dick_, few words; you are in a smooth way of making
your fortune. I hope all will roll on. But how do you intend matters
shall pass 'twixt you and me in this business?
_Dick._ Death and Furies! What a time dost take to talk on't?
_Brass._ Good words, or I betray you; they have already heard of one
Mr. _Amlet_ in the house.
_Dick._ Here's a son of a whore!
[_Aside._
_Brass._ In short, look smooth, and be a good prince: I am your valet,
'tis true: your footman sometimes, which I'm enrag'd at; but you have
always had the ascendant, I confess: when we were school-fellows, you
made me carry your books, make your exercise, own your rogueries, and
sometimes take a whipping for you. When we were fellow-prentices,
tho' I was your senior, you made me open the shop, clean my master's
shoes, cut last at dinner, and eat all the crust. In our sins too, I
must own you still kept me under; you soar'd up to adultery with our
mistress, while I was at humble fornication with the maid. Nay, in our
punishments you still made good your post: for when once upon a time I
was sentenced but to be whipp'd, I cannot deny but you were condemn'd
to be hang'd. So that in all times, I must confess, your inclinations
have been greater and nobler than mine; however, I cannot consent that
you shou'd at once fix fortune for life, and I dwell in my humilities
for the rest of my days.
_Dick._ Hark thee, _Brass_, if I do not most nobly by thee, I'm a dog.
_Brass._ And when?
_Dick._ As soon as ever I am married.
_Brass._ Ah, the pox take thee.
_Dick._ Then you mistrust me?
_Brass._ I do by my faith. Look you, Sir, some folks we mistrust,
because we don't know them; others we mistrust, because we do know
them: and for one of these reasons I desire there may be a bargain
beforehand: If not [_Raising his voice._] look ye _Dick Amlet_----
_Dick._ Soft, my dear friend and companion. The dog will ruin me.
[_Aside._] Say, what is't will content thee?
_Brass._ O ho!
_Dick._ But how canst thou be such a barbarian?
_Brass._ I learnt it at _Algiers_.
_Dick._ Come, make thy _Turkish_ demand then.
_Brass._ You know you gave me a bank-bill this morning to receive for
you.
_Dick._ I did so, of fifty pounds, 'tis thine. So, now thou are
satisfy'd, all's fix'd.
_Brass._ It is not indeed. There's a diamond necklace you robb'd your
mother of ev'n now.
_Dick._ Ah, you _Jew_.
_Brass._ No words.
_Dick._ My dear _Brass_!
_Brass._ I insist.
_Dick._ My old friend.
_Brass._ _Dick Amlet_ [_Raising his voice._] I insist.
_Dick._ Ah the Cormorant----Well, 'tis thine: but thou'lt never thrive
with it.
_Brass._ When I find it begins to do me mischief, I'll give it you
again. But I must have a wedding-suit.
_Dick._ Well.
_Brass._ Some good lace.
_Dick._ Thou shalt.
_Brass._ A stock of linen.
_Dick._ Enough.
_Brass._ Not yet----a silver sword.
_Dick._ Well, thou shalt have that too. Now thou hast every thing.
_Brass._ God forgive me, I forgot a ring of remembrance; I wou'd not
forget all these favours for the world: a sparkling diamond I will be
always playing in my eye, and put me in mind of them.
_Dick._ This unconscionable rogue! [_Aside._] Well, I'll bespeak one
for thee.
_Brass._ Brilliant.
_Dick._ It shall. But if the thing don't succeed after all?----
_Brass._ I'm a man of honour, and restore: and so the treaty being
finish'd, I strike my flag of defiance, and fall into my respects again.
[_Taking off his hat._
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
_Flip._ I have made you wait a little, but I cou'd not help it, her
master is but just gone. He has been shewing her Prince _Eugene_'s
march into _Italy_.
_Dick._ Pr'ythee let me come to her, I'll shew her a part of the world
he has never shewn her yet.
_Flip._ So I told her, you must know; and she said, she cou'd like to
travel in good company: so if you'll slip up those back-stairs, you
shall try if you can agree upon the journey.
_Dick._ My dear _Flippanta_!
_Flip._ None of your dear acknowledgments, I beseech you, but up stairs
as hard as you can drive.
_Dick._ I'm gone.
[_Exit ~Dick~._
_Flip._ And do you follow him _Jack-a-dandy_, and see he is not
surpriz'd.
_Brass._ I thought that was your post, Mrs. _Useful_: But if you'll
come and keep me in humour, I don't care if I share the duty with you.
_Flip._ No words, sirrah, but follow him, I have somewhat else to do.
_Brass._ The jade's so absolute there's no contesting with her. One
kiss tho' to keep the centinel warm. [_Gives her a long kiss._]----So.
[_Exit ~Brass~._
_~Flippanta~ sola._
----A nasty rogue [_Wiping her mouth._] But, let me see what have I to
do now? This _restitution_ will be here quickly, I suppose; in the mean
time I'll go know if my lady's ready for the quarrel yet. Master yonder
is so full on't, he's ready to burst; but we'll give him vent by and by
with a witness.
[_Exit ~Flip~._
+ACT+ IV.
+SCENE+, Gripe's _House_.
_Enter ~Corinna~, ~Dick~, and ~Brass~._
_Brass._ Don't fear, I'll give you timely notice.
[_Goes to the door._
_Dick._ Come, you must consent, you shall consent. How can you leave me
thus upon the rack? a man who loves you to that excess that I do.
_Cor._ Nay, that you love me, Sir, that I'm satisfy'd in, for you have
sworn you do: And I'm so pleas'd with it, I'd fain have you do so as
long as you live, so we must never marry.
_Dick._ Not marry, my dear! why what's our love good for if we don't
marry!
_Cor._ Ah----I'm afraid 'twill be good for little if we do.
_Dick._ Why do you think so?
_Cor._ Because I hear my father and mother, and my uncle and aunt, and
_Araminta_ and her husband, and twenty other married folks, say so from
morning to night.
_Dick._ Oh, that's because they are bad husbands and bad wives; but in
our case there will be a good husband and a good wife, and so we shall
love for ever.
_Cor._ Why there may be something in that truly; and I'm always willing
to hear reason, as a reasonable young woman ought to do. But are you
sure, Sir, tho' we are very good now, we shall be so when we come to be
better acquainted?
_Dick._ I can answer for myself, at least.
_Cor._ I wish you cou'd answer for me too. You see I am a plain-dealer,
Sir, I hope you don't like me the worse for it.
_Dick._ O, by no means, 'tis a sign of admirable morals; and I hope,
since you practise it yourself, you'll approve of it in your lover.
In one word, therefore, (for 'tis in vain to mince the matter) my
resolution's fix'd, and the world can't stagger me, I marry----or I die.
_Cor._ Indeed, Sir, I have much ado to believe you; the disease of love
is seldom so violent.
_Dick._ Madam, I have two diseases to end my miseries; If the first
don't do't, the latter shall; [_Drawing his sword._] one's in my heart,
t'other's in my scabbard.
_Cor._ Not for a diadem, [_Catching hold of him._] Ah, put it up, put
it up.
_Dick._ How absolute is your command! [_Dropping his sword._] A word,
you see, disarms me.
_Cor._ What a power I have over him! [_Aside._] The wondrous deeds of
love!----Pray, Sir, let me have no more of these rash doings tho';
perhaps I mayn't be always in the saving humour----I'm sure if I had
let him stick himself, I should have been envy'd by all the great
ladies in the town.
[_Aside._
_Dick._ Well, madam, have I then your promise? you'll make me the
happiest of mankind.
_Cor._ I don't know what to say to you; but I believe I had as good
promise, for I find I shall certainly do't.
_Dick._ Then let us seal the contract thus.
[_Kisses her._
_Cor._ Um----he has almost taken away my breath: He kisses purely.
[_Aside._
_Dick._ Hark----somebody comes.
[_~Brass~ peeping in._
_Brass._ Gar there, the enemy----no, hold y'are safe, 'tis _Flippanta_.
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
_Flip._ Come, have you agreed the matter? If not, you must end it
another time, for your father's in motion, so pray kiss and part.
_Cor._ That's sweet and sour. [_They kiss._] Adieu t'ye, Sir.
[_Exit ~Dick~ and ~Cor~._
_Enter ~Clarissa~._
_Clar._ Have you told him I'm at home, _Flippanta_?
_Flip._ Yes, Madam.
_Clar._ And that I'll see him?
_Flip._ Yes, that too: But here's news for you; I have just now
receiv'd the restitution.
_Clar._ That's killing pleasure: and how much has he restor'd me?
_Flip._ Two hundred and thirty.
_Clar._ Wretched rogue! but retreat, your Master's coming to quarrel.
_Flip._ I'll be within call, if things run high.
[_Ex. ~Flip~._
_Enter ~Gripe~._
_Gripe._ O ho!----are you there, i'faith? Madam, your humble servant,
I'm very glad to see you at home. I thought I should never have had
that honour again.
_Clar._ Good-morrow, my dear, how d'ye do? _Flippanta_ says you are
out of humour, and that you have a mind to quarrel with me: Is it
true? ha!----I have a terrible pain in my head, I give you notice on't
beforehand.
_Gripe._ And how the pox shou'd it be otherwise? It's a wonder you are
not dead [_~as a' wou'd you were~, Aside._] with the life you lead. Are
you not ashamed? And do you not blush to----
_Clar._ My dear child, you crack my brain; soften the harshness of your
voice: say what thou wou't, but let it be in an agreeable tone----
_Gripe._ Tone, Madam, don't tell me of a tone----
_Clar._ O----if you will quarrel, do it with temperance; let it be all
in cool blood, even and smooth, as if you were not moved with what you
said; and then I'll hear you as if I were not mov'd with it neither.
_Gripe._ Had ever man such need of patience? Madam, Madam, I must tell
you, Madam----
_Clar._ Another key, or I'll walk off.
_Gripe._ Don't provoke me.
_Clar._ Shall you be long, my dear, in your remonstrances?
_Gripe._ Yes, Madam, and very long.
_Clar._ If you would quarrel _en abrêgé_, I shou'd have a world of
obligation to you.
_Gripe._ What I have to say, forsooth, is not to be expressed _en
abrêgé_, my complaints are too numerous.
_Clar._ Complaints! of what my dear? have I ever given you subject of
complaint, my life?
_Gripe._ O Pox! my dear and my life! I desire none of your _tendres_.
_Clar._ How! find fault with my kindness, and my expressions of
affection and respect! the world will guess by this what the rest of
your complaints may be. I must tell you, I am scandaliz'd at your
procedure.
_Gripe._ I must tell you I am running mad with yours.
_Clar._ Ah! how insupportable are the humours of some husbands, so full
of fancies, and so ungovernable: What have you in the world to disturb
you?
_Gripe._ What have I to disturb me! I have you, Death and the Devil.
_Clar._ Ah, merciful heaven! how he swears! You should never accustom
yourself to such words as these; indeed, my dear, you shou'd not; your
mouth's always full of them.
_Gripe._ Blood and thunder! Madam----
_Clar._ Ah, he'll fetch the house down: Do you know you make me tremble
for you? _Flippanta_! who's there? _Flippanta_!
_Gripe._ Here's a provoking devil for you!
_Enter ~Flippanta~._
_Flip._ What in the name of _Jove_'s the matter? you raise the
neighbourhood.
_Clar._ Why here's your master in a most violent fuss, and no mortal
soul can tell for what.
_Gripe._ Not tell for what!
_Clar._ No, my life. I have begged him to tell me his griefs,
_Flippanta_; and then he swears, good Lord! how he does swear.
_Gripe._ Ah, you wicked jade! Ah, you wicked jade!
_Clar._ Do you hear him _Flippanta_! do you hear him!
_Flip._ Pray, Sir, let's know a little what puts you in all this fury?
_Clar._ Pr'ythee stand near me, _Flippanta_, there's an odd froth about
his mouth, looks as if his poor head were going wrong, I'm afraid he'll
bite.
_Gripe._ The wicked woman, _Flippanta_, the wicked woman.
_Clar._ Can any body wonder I shun my own house, when he treats me at
this rate in it?
_Gripe._ At this rate! why in the devil's name----
_Clar._ Do you hear him again?
_Flip._ Come, a little moderation, Sir, and try what that will produce.
_Gripe._ Hang her, 'tis all a pretence to justify her going abroad.
_Clar._ A pretence! a pretence! Do you hear how black a charge he loads
me with? Charges me with a pretence? Is this the return for all my
downright open actions? You know, my dear, I scorn pretences: Whenever
I go abroad, it is without pretence.
_Gripe._ Give me patience.
_Flip._ You have a great deal, Sir.
_Clar._ And yet he's never content, _Flippanta_.
_Gripe._ What shall I do?
_Clar._ What a reasonable man wou'd do; own your self in the wrong, and
be quiet. Here's _Flippanta_ has understanding, and I have moderation;
I'm willing to make her judge of our differences.
_Flip._ You do me a great deal of honour, Madam: but I tell you
beforehand, I shall be a little on Master's side.
_Gripe._ Right, _Flippanta_ has sense. Come, let her decide. Have I not
reason to be in a passion? tell me that.
_Clar._ You must tell her for what, my life.
_Gripe._ Why, for the trade you drive, my soul.
_Flip._ Look you, Sir, pray take things right. I know Madam does fret
you a little now and then, that's true; but in the fund, she is the
softest, sweetest, gentlest lady breathing: let her but live entirely
to her own fancy, and she'll never say a word to you from morning to
night.
_Gripe._ Oons, let her but stay at home, and she shall do what she
will: in reason, that is.
_Flip._ D'ye hear that, Madam? nay, now I must be on master's side; you
see how he loves you, he desires only your company, pray give him that
satisfaction, or I must pronounce against you.
_Clar._ Well, I agree. Thou know'st I don't love to grieve him: let him
be always in good humour, and I'll be always at home.
_Flip._ Look you there, Sir, what would you have more?
_Gripe._ Well, let her keep her word, and I'll have done quarrelling.
_Clar._ I must not, however, so far lose the merit of my consent, as to
let you think I'm weary of going abroad, my dear: what I do is purely
to oblige you; which, that I may be able to perform, without a relapse,
I'll invent what ways I can to make my prison supportable to me.
_Flip._ Her prison! pretty bird! her prison! do'nt that word melt you,
Sir?
_Gripe._ I must confess I did not expect to find her so reasonable.
_Flip._ O, Sir, soon or late wives come into good humour: husbands must
only have a little patience to wait for it.
_Clar._ The innocent little diversions, dear, that I shall content
myself with, will be chiefly play and company.
_Gripe._ O, I'll find you employment, your time shan't lie upon your
hands, tho' if you have a mind now for such a companion as a----let me
see----_Araminta_ for example, why I shan't be against her being with
you from morning till nigh.
_Clar._ You can't oblige me more, 'tis the best woman in the world.
_Gripe._ Is not she?
_Flip._ Ah, the old satyr!
[_Aside._
_Gripe._ Then we'll have, besides her, may be sometimes----her husband;
and we shall see my niece that writes verses, and my sister _Fidget_:
with her husband's brother that's always merry; and his little cousin
that's to marry the fat curate; and my uncle the apothecary, with his
wife and all his children. O we shall divert ourselves rarely.
_Flip._ Good.
[_Aside._
_Clar._ O, for that, my dear child, I must be plain with you, I'll see
none of them but _Araminta_, who has the manners of the court; for I'll
converse with none but women of quality.
_Gripe._ Ay, ay, they shall all have one quality or other.
_Clar._ Then, my dear, to make our home pleasant, we'll have consorts
of music sometimes.
_Gripe._ Music in my house!
_Clar._ Yes, my child, we must have music or the house will be so dull
I shall get the spleen, and be going abroad again.
_Flip._ Nay, she has so much complaisance for you, Sir, you can't
dispute such things with her.
_Gripe._ Ay, but if I have music----
_Clar._ Ay, but Sir, I must have music----
_Flip._ Not every day, Madam don't mean.
_Clar._ No, bless me, no; but three consorts a week: three days more
we'll play after dinner at _Ombre_, _Picquet_, _Basset_, and so forth,
and close the evening with a handsome supper and a ball.
_Gripe._ A ball!
_Clar._ Then, my love, you know there is but one day more upon our
hands, and that shall be the day of conversation, we'll read verses,
talk of books, invent modes, tell lyes, scandalize our friends, be
pert upon religion; and in short, employ every moment of it in some
pretty witty exercise or other.
_Flip._ What order you see 'tis she proposes to live in! A most
wonderful regularity!
_Gripe._ Regularity with a pox----
[_Aside._
_Clar._ And as this kind of life, so soft, so smooth, so agreeable,
must needs invite a vast deal of company to partake of it, 'twill be
necessary to have the decency of a porter at our door, you know.
_Gripe._ A porter----A scrivener have a porter, Madam!
_Clar._ Positively a porter.
_Gripe._ Why no scrivener since _Adam_ ever had a porter, woman!
_Clar._ You will therefore be renown'd in story, for having the first,
my life.
_Gripe._ _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ Hang it, Sir, never dispute a trifle; if you vex her, perhaps
she'll insist upon a Swiss.
[_Aside to ~Gripe~._
_Gripe._ But, Madam----
_Clar._ But, Sir, a porter, positively a porter; without that the
treaty's null, and I go abroad this moment.
_Flip._ Come, Sir, never lose so advantageous a peace for a pitiful
porter.
_Gripe._ Why, I shall be hooted at, the boys will throw stones at my
porter. Besides, where shall I have money for all this expence?
_Clar._ My dear, who asks you for any? Don't be in a fright, chicken.
_Gripe._ Don't be in a fright, Madam! But where I say----
_Flip._ Madam plays, Sir, think on that; women that play have
inexhaustible mines, and wives who receive least money from their
husbands, are many times those who spend the most.
_Clar._ So, my dear, let what _Flippanta_ says content you. Go, my
life, trouble yourself with nothing, but let me do just as I please,
and all will be well. I'm going into my closet, to consider of some
more things to enable me to give you the pleasure of my company at
home, without making it too great a misery to a yielding wife.
[_Exit ~Clarissa~._
_Flip._ Mirror of goodness! Pattern to all wives! well sure, Sir, you
are the happiest of all husbands.
_Gripe._ Yes----and a miserable dog for all that too, perhaps.
_Flip._ Why, what can you ask more, than this matchless complaisance?
_Gripe._ I don't know what I can ask, and yet I'm not satisfy'd with
what I have neither, the devil mixes in it all, I think; complaisant or
perverse, it feels just as it did.
_Flip._ Why then your uneasiness is only a disease, Sir, perhaps a
little bleeding and purging wou'd relieve you.
_Clar._ _Flippanta_?
[_~Clarissa~ calls within._
_Flip._ Madam calls. I come, Madam. Come, be merry, be merry, Sir, you
have cause, take my word for't. Poor devil.
[_Aside._]
[_Exit ~Flippanta~._
_Gripe._ I don't know that, I don't know that: But this I do know, that
an honest man, who has marry'd a jade, whether she's pleas'd to spend
her time at home or abroad, had better have liv'd a batchelor.
_Enter ~Brass~._
_Brass._ O, Sir, I'm mighty glad I have found you.
_Gripe._ Why, what's the matter, pr'ythee?
_Brass._ Can no body hear us?
_Gripe._ No, no, speak quickly.
_Brass._ You han't seen _Araminta_, since the last letter I carry'd her
from you?
_Gripe._ Not I, I go prudently; I don't press things like your young
firebrand lovers.
_Brass._ But seriously, Sir, are you very much in love with her?
_Gripe._ As mortal man has been.
_Brass._ I'm sorry for't.
_Gripe._ Why so, dear _Brass_?
_Brass._ If you were never to see her more now? Suppose such a thing,
d'ye think 'twou'd break your heart?
_Gripe._ Oh!
_Brass._ Nay, now I see you love her; wou'd you did not.
_Gripe._ My dear friend.
_Brass._ I'm in your interest deep: you see it.
_Gripe._ I do: but speak, what miserable story hast thou for me?
_Brass._ I had rather the devil had, phu----flown away with you quick,
than to see you so much in love, as I perceive you are, since----
_Gripe._ Since what?----ho.
_Brass._ _Araminta_, Sir.
_Gripe._ Dead?
_Brass._ No.
_Gripe._ How then?
_Brass._ Worse.
_Gripe._ Out with't.
_Brass._ Broke.
_Gripe._ Broke!
_Brass._ She is, poor lady, in a most unfortunate situation of affairs.
But I have said too much.
_Gripe._ No, no, 'tis very sad, but let's hear it.
_Brass._ Sir, she charg'd me on my life never to mention it to you, of
all men living.
_Gripe._ Why, who should'st thou tell it to, but to the best of her
friends?
_Brass._ Ay, why there's it now, it's going just as I fancy'd. Now
will I be hang'd if you are not enough in love to be engaging in this
matter. But I must tell you, Sir, that as much concern as I have for
that most excellent, beautiful, agreeable, distress'd, unfortunate
lady, I'm too much your friend and servant, ever to let it be said,
'twas the means of your being ruin'd for a woman----by letting you know
she esteem'd you more than any other man upon earth.
_Gripe._ Ruin'd! what dost thou mean?
_Brass._ Mean! Why! I mean that women always ruin those that love 'em,
that's the rule.
_Gripe._ The rule!
_Brass._ Yes, the rule; why wou'd you have them ruin those that don't?
How shall they bring that about?
_Gripe._ But is there a necessity then, they shou'd ruin somebody?
_Brass._ Yes, marry is there; how wou'd you have 'em support their
expence else? Why, Sir, you can't conceive now----you can't conceive
what _Araminta_'s privy-purse requires. Only her privy purse, Sir! Why,
what do you imagine now she gave me for the last letter I carry'd her
from you? 'Tis true, 'twas from a man she lik'd, else, perhaps, I had
had my bones broke. But what do you think she gave me?
_Gripe._ Why, mayhap----a shilling.
_Brass._ A guinea, Sir, a guinea. You see by that how fond she was
on't, by the bye. But then, Sir, her coach-hire; her chair-hire, her
pin-money, her play-money, her china, and her charity----wou'd consume
peers: A great soul, a very great soul! but what's the end of all this?
_Gripe._ Ha!
_Brass._ Why, I'll tell you what the end is----a nunnery.
_Gripe._ A nunnery!
_Brass._ A nunnery.----In short she is at last reduc'd to that
extremity, and attack'd with such a battalion of duns, that rather than
tell her husband (who you know is such a dog, he'd let her go if she
did) she has e'en determin'd to turn papist, and bid the world adieu
for life.
_Gripe._ O terrible! a papist!
_Brass._ Yes, when a handsome woman has brought herself into
difficulties, the devil can't help her out of----To a nunnery, that's
another rule, Sir.
_Gripe._ But, but, but, pr'ythee _Brass_, but----
_Brass._ But all the buts in the world, Sir, won't stop her: she's a
woman of a noble resolution. So, Sir, your humble servant; I pity her,
I pity you. Turtle and mate; but the Fates will have it so, all's packt
up, and I'm now going to call her a coach, for she resolves to slip
off without saying a word: and the next visit she receives from her
friends, will be through a melancholy grate, with a veil instead of a
top-knot.
[_Going._
_Gripe._ It must not be, by the Powers it must not; she was made for
the world, and the world was made for her.
_Brass._ And yet you see, Sir, how small a share she has on't.
_Gripe._ Poor woman! Is there no way to save her?
_Brass._ Save her! No, how can she be saved? why she owes above five
hundred pounds.
_Gripe._ Oh!
_Brass._ Five hundred pounds, Sir; she's like to be sav'd
indeed.----Not but that I know them in this town wou'd give me one of
the five, if I wou'd persuade her to accept of th' other four: but she
has forbid me mentioning it to any soul living; and I have disobey'd
her only to you; and so--I'll go and call a coach.
_Gripe._ Hold!----dost think, my poor _Brass_, one might not order it
so, as to compound those debts for----for----twelve pence in the pound?
_Brass._ Sir, d'ye hear? I have already try'd 'em with ten shillings,
and not a rogue will prick up his ear at it. Tho' after all, for three
hundred pounds all in glittering gold, I could set their chaps a
watering. But where's that to be had with honour? there's the thing,
Sir,----I'll go and call a coach.
_Gripe._ Hold, once more: I have a note in my closet of two hundred,
ay----and fifty, I'll go and give it her myself.
_Brass._ You will; very genteel, truly. Go slap-dash, and offer a woman
of her scruples, money! bolt in her face: Why, you might as well offer
her a scorpion, and she'd as soon touch it.
_Gripe._ Shall I carry it to her creditors then, and treat with them?
_Brass._ Ay, that's a rare thought.
_Gripe._ Is not it, _Brass_?
_Brass._ Only one little inconvenience by the way.
_Gripe._ As how?
_Brass._ That they are your wife's creditors as well as hers; and
perhaps it might not be altogether so well to see you clearing the
debts of your neighbour's wife, and leaving those of your own unpaid.
_Gripe._ Why that's true now.
_Brass._ I'm wise you see, Sir.
_Gripe._ Thou art; and I'm but a young lover: But what shall we do then?
_Brass._ Why I'm thinking, that if you give me the note, do you see;
and that I promise to give you an account of it----
_Gripe._ Ay, but look you, _Brass_----
_Brass._ But look you!----Why what, d'ye think I'm a pickpocket? D'ye
think I intend to run away with your note? your paltry note.
_Gripe._ I don't say so----I say only that in case----
_Brass._ Case, Sir, there is no case but the case I have put you; and
since you heap cases upon cases, where there is but three hundred
rascally pounds in the case----I'll go and call a coach.
_Gripe._ Pr'ythee don't be so testy; come, no more words, follow me to
my closet, and I'll give thee the money.
_Brass._ A terrible effort you make indeed; you are so much in love,
your wits are all upon the wing, just a going; and for three hundred
pounds you put a stop to their flight: Sir, your wits are worth that,
or your wits are worth nothing. Come away.
_Gripe._ Well, say no more, thou shalt be satisfy'd. [_Exeunt._
_Enter ~Dick~._
_Dick._ S't----_Brass_! S't----
_Re-enter ~Brass~._
_Brass._ Well, Sir!
_Dick._ 'Tis not well, Sir, 'tis very ill, Sir; we shall be all blown
up.
_Brass._ What, with pride and plenty?
_Dick._ No, Sir, with an officious slut that will spoil all. In short,
_Flippanta_ has been telling her mistress and _Araminta_ of my passion
for the young gentlewoman; and truly to oblige me (supposed no ill
match by the bye) they are resolv'd to propose it immediately to her
father.
_Brass._ That's the devil! we shall come to papers and parchments,
jointures and settlements, relations meet on both sides; that's the
devil.
_Dick._ I intended this very day to propose to _Flippanta_, the
carrying her off: and I'm sure the young houswife wou'd have tuck'd up
her coats, and have march'd.
_Brass._ Ay, with the body and the soul of her.
_Dick._ Why then, what damn'd luck is this?
_Brass._ 'Tis your damn'd luck, not mine: I have always seen it in your
ugly phiz, in spite of your powder'd perriwig----pox take ye----he'll
be hang'd at last. Why don't you try to get her off yet?
_Dick._ I have no money, you dog; you know you have stript me of every
penny.
_Brass._ Come, damn it. I'll venture one cargo more upon your rotten
bottom: But if ever I see one glance of your hempen fortune again, I'm
off of your partnership for ever----I shall never thrive with him.
_Dick._ An impudent rogue, but he's in possession of my estate, so I
must bear with him.
[_Aside._
_Brass._ Well, come, I'll raise a hundred pounds for your use, upon my
wife's jewels here; [_Pulling out the necklace._] her necklace shall
pawn for't.
_Dick._ Remember tho', that if things fail, I'm to have the necklace
again; you know you agreed to that.
_Brass._ Yes, and if I make it good, you'll be the better for't; if
not, I shall: so you see where the cause will pinch.
_Dick._ Why, you barbarous dog, you won't offer to----
_Brass._ No words now; about your business, march. Go stay for me at
the next tavern: I'll go to _Flippanta_, and try what I can do for you.
_Dick._ Well, I'll go, but don't think to----O pox, Sir----
[_Exit ~Dick~._
_~Brass~ solus._
_Brass._ Will you be gone? A pretty title you'd have to sue me
upon truly, if I shou'd have a mind to stand upon the defensive,
as perhaps I may; I have done the rascal service enough to lull my
conscience upon't I'm sure: But 'tis time enough for that. Let me
see----First I'll go to _Flippanta_, and put a stop to this family
way of match-making, then sell our necklace for what ready money
'twill produce; and by this time to-morrow I hope we shall be in
possession of----t'other jewel here; a precious jewel, as she's set in
gold: I believe for the stone itself we may part with it again to a
friend----for a tester.
[_Exit._
+ACT+ V.
+SCENE+, Gripe's _House_.
_Enter ~Brass~ and ~Flippanta~._
_Brass._ Well, you agree I'm in the right, don't you?
_Flip._ I don't know; if your master has the estate he talks of, why
not do't all above-board? Well, tho' I am not much of his mind, I'm
much in his interest, and will therefore endeavour to serve him in his
own way.
_Brass._ That's kindly said, my child, and I believe I shall reward
thee one of these days, with as pretty a fellow to thy husband for't,
as----
_Flip._ Hold your prating, Jack-a-dandy, and leave me to my business.
_Brass._ I obey--adieu. [_Kisses her._]
[_Exit ~Brass~._
_Flip._ Rascal!
_Enter ~Corinna~._
_Cor._ Ah, _Flippanta_, I'm ready to sink down, my legs tremble under
me, my dear _Flippy_.
_Flip._ And what's the affair?
_Cor._ My father's there within, with my mother and _Araminta_; I never
saw him in so good a humour in my life.
_Flip._ And is that it that frightens you so?
_Cor._ Ah, _Flippanta_, they are just going to speak to him, about my
marrying the Colonel.
_Flip._ Are they so? so much the worse; they're too hasty.
_Cor._ O no, not a bit: I slipt out on purpose, you must know, to give
them an opportunity; wou'd 'twere done already.
_Flip._ I tell you no; get you in again immediately, and prevent it.
_Cor._ My dear, dear, I am not able; I never was in such a way before.
_Flip._ Never in a way to be marry'd before, ha? is not that it?
_Cor._ Ah, Lord, if I'm thus before I come to't, _Flippanta_, what
shall I be upon the very spot? Do but feel with what a thumpaty thump
it goes.
[_Putting her hand to her heart._
_Flip._ Nay it does make a filthy bustle, that's the truth on't, child.
But I believe I shall make it leap another way, when I tell you, I'm
cruelly afraid your father won't consent, after all.
_Cor._ Why, he won't be the death of o'me, will he?
_Flip._ I don't know, old folk are cruel; but we'll have a trick for
him. _Brass_ and I have been consulting upon the matter, and agreed
upon a surer way of doing it in spite of his teeth.
_Cor._ Ay, marry, Sir, that were something.
_Flip._ But then he must not know a word of any thing towards it.
_Cor._ No, no.
_Flip._ So, get you in immediately.
_Cor._ One, two, three and away.
[_Running off._
_Flip._ And prevent your mother's speaking on't.
_Cor._ But is t'other way sure, _Flippanta_?
_Flip._ Fear nothing, 'twill only depend upon you.
_Cor._ Nay then----O ho, ho, ho, how pure that is!
[_Exit ~Corinna~._
_~Flippanta~ sola._
Poor child! we may do what we will with her, as far as marrying her
goes; when that's over, 'tis possible she mayn't prove altogether so
tractable. But who's here? my sharper, I think: yes.
_Enter ~Money-trap~._
_Mon._ Well, my best friend, how go matters? Has the restitution been
received, ha? Was she pleas'd with it?
_Flip._ Yes, truly; that is, she was pleas'd to see there was so honest
a man in this immoral age.
_Mon._ Well, but a----does she know that 'twas I that----
_Flip._ Why, you must know I begun to give her a little sort of a hint,
and----and so----why, and so she begun to put on a sort of a severe,
haughty, reserv'd, angry, forgiving air. But soft; here she comes:
you'll see how you stand with her presently: but don't be afraid.
Courage.
_Mon._ He, hem.
_Enter ~Clarissa~._
'Tis no small piece of good fortune, Madam, to find you at home: I have
often endeavour'd it in vain.
_Clar._ 'Twas then unknown to me, for if I cou'd often receive the
visits of so good a friend at home, I shou'd be more reasonably blam'd
for being so much abroad.
_Mon._ Madam, you make me----
_Clar._ You are the man of the world whose company I think is most to
be desir'd. I don't compliment you when I tell you so, I assure you.
_Mon._ Alas, Madam, your poor humble servant----
_Clar._ My poor humble servant however (with all the esteem I have for
him) stands suspected with me for a vile trick, I doubt he has play'd
me, which if I could prove upon him, I'm afraid I should punish him
very severely.
_Mon._ I hope, Madam, you'll believe I am not capable of----
_Clar._ Look you, look you, you are capable of whatever you please, you
have a great deal of wit, and know how to give a nice and gallant turn
to every thing; but if you will have me continue your friend, you must
leave me in some uncertainty in this matter.
_Mon._ Madam, I do then protest to you----
_Clar._ Come protest nothing about it, I am but too penetrating, as you
may perceive; but we sometimes shut our eyes, rather than break with
our friends; for a thorough knowledge of the truth of this business,
wou'd make me very seriously angry.
_Mon._ 'Tis very certain, Madam, that----
_Clar._ Come, say no more on't, I beseech you, for I'm in a good deal
of heat while I but think on't; if you'll walk in, I'll follow you
presently.
_Mon._ Your goodness, Madam, is----
_Flip._ War, horse.
[_Aside to ~Money-trap~._
No fine speeches, you'll spoil all.
_Mon._ Thou art a most incomparable person.
_Flip._ Nay, it goes rarely; but get you in, and I'll say a little
something to my Lady for you, while she's warm.
_Mon._ But S't, _Flippanta_, how long do'st think she may hold out?
_Flip._ Phu, not a Twelvemonth.
_Mon._ Boo.
_Flip._ Away, I say.
[_Pushing him out._
_Clar._ Is he gone? What a wretch it is! he never was quite such a
beast before.
_Flip._ Poor mortal, his money's finely laid out truly.
_Clar._ I suppose there may have been much such another scene within
between _Araminta_ and my dear: but I left him so insupportably brisk,
'tis impossible he can have parted with any money: I'm afraid _Brass_
has not succeeded as thou hast done, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ By my faith but he has, and better too; he presents his humble
duty to _Araminta_, and has sent her----this.
[_Shewing the note._
_Clar._ A bill for my love for two hundred and fifty pounds. The
monster! he wou'd not part with ten to save his lawful wife from
everlasting torment.
_Flip._ Never complain of his avarice, Madam, as long as you have his
money.
_Clar._ But is not he a beast, _Flippanta_? methinks the restitution
look'd better by half.
_Flip._ Madam, the man's beast enough, that's certain; but which way
will you go to receive his beastly money, for I must not appear with
his note?
_Clar._ That's true; why send for Mrs. _Amlet_; that's a mighty useful
woman, that Mrs. _Amlet_.
_Flip._ Marry is she; we shou'd have been basely puzzled how to dispose
of the necklace without her, 'twould have been dangerous offering it to
sale.
_Clar._ It wou'd so, for I know your master has been laying out for't
amongst the goldsmiths. But I stay here too long. I must in and coquet
it a little more to my lover, _Araminta_ will get ground on me else.
[_Exit ~Clarissa~._
_Flip._ And I'll go send for Mrs. _Amlet_.
[_Exit ~Flip~._
+SCENE+ _opens._
_~Araminta~, ~Corinna~, ~Gripe~, and ~Money-trap~ at a tea-table,
very gay and laughing. ~Clarissa~ comes in to 'em._
_Omnes._ Ha! ha! ha! ha!
_Mon._ Mighty well, O mighty well indeed!
_Clar._ Save you, save you good folks, you are all in rare humour
methinks.
_Gripe._ Why, what shou'd we be otherwise for, Madam?
_Clar._ Nay, I don't know, not I, my dear; but I han't had the
happiness of seeing you since our honey-moon was over, I think.
_Gripe._ Why to tell you the truth, my dear, 'tis the joy of seeing you
at home; [_Kisses her._] You see what charms you have, when you are
pleased to make use of 'em.
_Aram._ Very gallant truly.
_Clar._ Nay, and what's more, you must know, he's never to be otherwise
henceforwards; we have come to an agreement about it.
_Mon._ Why, here's my love and I have been upon just such another
treaty too.
_Aram._ Well, sure there's some very peaceful star rules at present.
Pray heaven continue its reign.
_Mon._ Pray do you continue its reign, you ladies; for 'tis all in your
power.
[_Leering at ~Clarissa~._
_Gripe._ My neighbour _Money-trap_ says true at least I'll confess
frankly [_Ogling ~Araminta~._] 'tis in one lady's power to make me the
best-humour'd man on earth.
_Mon._ And I'll answer for another, that has the same over me.
[_Ogling ~Clarissa~._
_Clar._ 'Tis mighty fine, gentlemen, mighty civil husbands indeed.
_Gripe._ Nay, what I say's true, and so true, that all quarrels being
now at an end, I am willing, if you please, to dispense with all
that fine company we talk'd of to-day, be content with the friendly
conversation of our two good neighbours here, and spend all my toying
hours alone with my sweet wife.
_Mon._ Why, truly, I think now, if these good women pleas'd, we might
make up the prettiest little neighbourly company between our two
families, and set a defiance to all the impertinent people in the world.
[_Aside._
_Clar._ The rascals!
_Aram._ Indeed I doubt you'd soon grow weary, if we grew fond.
_Gripe._ Never, never, for our wives have wit, neighbour, and that
never palls.
_Clar._ And our husbands have generosity, _Araminta_, and that seldom
palls.
_Gripe._ So that's a wipe for me now, because I did not give her a
new-year's gift last time; but be good, and I'll think of some tea-cups
for you, next year.
_Mon._ And perhaps I mayn't forget a fan, or as good a thing----hum,
hussy.
_Clar._ Well, upon these encouragements, _Araminta_, we'll try how good
we can be.
_Gripe._ Well, this goes most rarely: poor _Money-trap_, he little
thinks what makes his wife so easy in his company.
[_Aside._
_Mon._ I can but pity poor neighbour _Gripe_. Lard, Lard, what a fool
does his wife and I make of him?
[_Aside._
_Clar._ Are not these two wretched rogues, _Araminta_?
[_Aside to ~Araminta~._
_Aram._ They are indeed.
[_Aside to ~Clarissa~._
_Enter ~Jessamin~._
_Jess._ Sir, here's Mr. _Clip_, the goldsmith, desires to speak with
you.
_Gripe._ Cods so, perhaps some news of your necklace, my dear.
_Clar._ That would be news indeed.
_Gripe._ Let him come in.
_Enter Mr. ~Clip~._
_Gripe._ Mr. _Clip_, your servant, I'm glad to see you: how do you do?
_Clip._ At your service, Sir, very well. Your servant, Madam _Gripe_.
_Clar._ Horrid fellow!
[_Aside._
_Gripe._ Well, Mr. _Clip_, no news yet of my wife's necklace?
_Clip._ If you please to let me speak with you in the next room, I have
something to say to you.
_Gripe._ Ay, with all my heart. Shut the door after us. [_They come
forward, and the Scene shuts behind them._] Well, any news?
_Clip._ Look you, Sir, here's a necklace brought me to sell, at least
very like that you describ'd to me.
_Gripe._ Let's see't----_Victoria_! the very same. Ah my dear _Mr.
Clip_----[_Kisses him._] But who brought it you? you should have seiz'd
him.
_Clip._ 'Twas a young fellow that I know: I can't tell whether he may
be guilty, tho' its like enough. But he has only left it me now, to
shew a brother of our trade, and will call upon me again presently.
_Gripe._ Wheedle him hither, dear Mr. _Clip_. Here's my neighbour
_Money-trap_ in the house; he's a justice, and will commit him
presently.
_Clip._ 'Tis enough.
_Enter ~Brass~._
_Gripe._ O, my friend _Brass_!
_Brass._ Hold, Sir, I think that's a gentleman I'm looking for. Mr.
_Clip_, O your servant; what, are you acquainted here? I have just been
at your shop.
_Clip._ I only stept here to shew Mr. _Gripe_ the necklace you left.
_Brass._ Why, Sir, you understand jewels? [_To Gripe._] I thought you
had dealt only in gold. But I smoak the matter; hark you----a word
in your ear----you are going to play the gallant again, and make a
purchase on't for _Araminta_; ha, ha?
_Gripe._ Where had you the necklace?
_Brass._ Look you, don't trouble yourself about that; it's in
commission with me, and I can help you to a pennyworth on't.
_Gripe._ A pennyworth on't, villain?
[_Strikes at him._
_Brass._ Villain! a hey, a hey. Is't you or me, Mr. _Clip_, he's
pleas'd to compliment?
_Clip._ What do you think on't, Sir?
_Brass._ Think on't, now the devil fetch me if I know what to think
on't.
_Gripe._ You'll sell a pennyworth, rogue! of a thing you have stol'n
from me.
_Brass._ Stol'n! pray, Sir----what wine have you drank to-day? It has a
very merry effect upon you.
_Gripe._ You villain; either give me an account how you stole it, or----
_Brass._ O ho, Sir, if you please, don't carry your jest too far, I
don't understand hard words, I give you warning on't: if you han't a
mind to buy the necklace, you may let it alone, I know how to dispose
on't. What a pox!----
_Gripe._ O, you shan't have that trouble, Sir. Dear Mr. _Clip_, you may
leave the necklace here. I'll call at your shop, and thank you for your
care.
_Clip._ Sir, your humble servant.
[_Going._
_Brass._ O ho, Mr. _Clip_, if you please, Sir, this won't do,
[_Stopping him._] I don't understand rallery in such matters.
_Clip._ I leave it with _Mr Gripe_, do you and he dispute it.
[_Exit ~Clip~._
_Brass._ Ay, but 'tis from you, by your leave, Sir, that I expect it.
[_Going after him._
_Gripe._ You expect, you rogue, to make your escape, do you? But I have
other accounts besides this, to make up with you. To be sure the dog
has cheated me of two hundred and fifty pounds. Come, villain, give me
an account of----
_Brass._ Account of!----Sir, give me an account of my necklace, or I'll
make such a noise in your house, I'll raise the devil in't.
_Gripe._ Well said, courage.
_Brass._ Blood and thunder, give it me, or----
_Gripe._ Come, hush, be wise, and I'll make no noise of this affair.
_Brass._ You'll make no noise! But I'll make a noise; and a damn'd
noise too. O, don't think to----
_Gripe._ I tell thee I will not hang thee.
_Brass._ But I tell you I will hang you, if you don't give me my
necklace, I will, rot me.
_Gripe._ Speak softly, be wise; how came it thine? who gave it thee?
_Brass._ A gentleman, a friend of mine.
_Gripe._ What's his name?
_Brass._ His name!----I'm in such a passion I have forgot it.
_Gripe._ Ah, brazen rogue----thou hast stole it from my wife: 'tis the
same she lost six weeks ago.
_Brass._ This has not been in _England_ a month.
_Gripe._ You are a son of a whore.
_Brass._ Give me my necklace.
_Gripe._ Give me my two hundred and fifty pound note.
_Brass._ Yet I offer peace: one word without passion. The case stands
thus, either I'm out of my wits, or you are out of yours: now 'tis
plain I am not out of my wits, _Ergo_----
_Gripe._ My bill, hang-dog, or I'll strangle thee.
[_They struggle._
_Brass._ Murder, murder!
_Enter ~Clarissa~, ~Araminta~, ~Corinna~, ~Flippanta~, and
~Money-trap~._
_Flip._ What's the matter? What's the matter here?
_Gripe._ I'll matter him.
_Clar._ Who makes thee cry out thus, poor _Brass_?
_Brass._ Why, your husband, Madam, he's in his altitudes here.
_Gripe._ Robber.
_Brass._ Here, he has cheated me of a diamond necklace.
_Cor._ Who, Papa? Ah dear me!
_Clar._ Pr'ythee what's the meaning of this great emotion, my dear?
_Gripe._ The meaning is that----I'm quite out of breath----this son of
a whore has got our necklace, that's all.
_Clar._ My necklace!
_Gripe._ That birdlime there--stole it.
_Clar._ Impossible!
_Brass._ Madam, you see master's a little----touch'd, that's all.
Twenty ounces of blood let loose, wou'd set all right again.
_Gripe._ Here, call a constable presently. Neighbour _Money-trap_,
you'll commit him.
_Brass._ D'ye hear? d'ye hear? See how wild he looks: how his eyes
roll in his head: tye him down, or he'll do some mischief or other.
_Gripe._ Let me come at him.
_Clar._ Hold----pr'ythee, my dear, reduce things to a little
temperance, and let us coolly into the secret of this disagreeable
rupture.
_Gripe._ Well then, without passion; why, you must know, (but I'll have
him hang'd) you must know that he came to Mr. _Clip_, to Mr. _Clip_ the
dog did----with a necklace to sell; so Mr. _Clip_ having notice before
that (can you deny this, Sirrah?) that you had lost yours, brings it to
me: Look at it here, do you know it again? Ah, you traitor.
[_To ~Brass~._
_Brass._ He makes me mad. Here's an appearance of something now to the
company, and yet nothing in't in the bottom.
_Enter Constable._
_Clar._ _Flippanta_!
[_Aside to ~Flippanta~, shewing the necklace._
_Flip._ 'Tis it, faith; here's some mystery in this, we must look about
us.
_Clar._ The safest way is point blank to disown the necklace.
_Flip._ Right, stick to that.
_Gripe._ Well, Madam, do you know your old acquaintance, ha?
_Clar._ Why, truly, my dear, tho' (as you may all imagine) I shou'd be
very glad to recover so valuable a thing as my necklace, yet I must be
just to all the world, this necklace is not mine.
_Brass._ Huzza----here constable do your duty; Mr. Justice, I demand my
necklace, and satisfaction of him.
_Gripe._ I'll die before I part with it, I'll keep it, and have him
hang'd.
_Clar._ But be a little calm, my dear, do my bird, and then thou'lt be
able to judge rightly of things.
_Gripe._ O good lack, O good lack.
_Clar._ No, but don't give way to fury and interest both, either of
'em are passions strong enough to lead a wise man out of the way. The
necklace not being really mine, give it the man again, and come drink a
dish of tea.
_Brass._ Ay, Madam says right.
_Gripe._ Oons, if you with your addle head don't know your own jewels,
I with my solid one do. And if I part with it, may famine be my portion.
_Clar._ But don't swear and curse thyself at this fearful rate; don't,
my dove: Be temperate in your words, and just in all your actions,
'twill bring a blessing upon you and all your family.
_Gripe._ Bring thunder and lightning upon me and my family, if I part
with my necklace.
_Clar._ Why, you'll have the lightning burn your house about your ears,
my dear, it you go on in these practices.
_Mon._ A most excellent woman this!
[_Aside._
_Enter Mrs. ~Amlet~._
_Gripe._ I'll keep my necklace.
_Brass._ Will you so? then here comes one has a title to it, if I
han't; let _Dick_ bring himself off with her as he can. Mrs. _Amlet_,
you are come in very good time, you lost a necklace t'other day, and
who do you think has got it?
_Aml._ Marry, that I know not, I wish I did.
_Brass._ Why then here's Mr. _Gripe_ has it, and swears 'tis his wife's.
_Gripe._ And so I do, sirrah----look here, Mistress, do you pretend
this is yours?
_Aml._ Not for the round world I wou'd not say it; I only kept it to do
Madam a small courtesy? that's all.
_Clar._ Ah, _Flippanta_, all will out now.
[_Aside to ~Flip~._
_Gripe._ Courtesy! what courtesy?
_Aml._ A little money only that madam had present need of, please to
pay me that, and I demand no more.
_Brass._ So here's fresh game, I have started a new hare, I find.
[_Aside._
_Gripe._ How forsooth, is this true?
[_To ~Clarissa~._
_Clar._ You are in a humour at present, love, to believe any thing, so
I won't take the pains to contradict it.
_Brass._ This damn'd necklace will spoil all our affairs, this is
_Dick_'s luck again.
[_Aside._
_Gripe._ Are you not asham'd of these ways? Do you see how you are
expos'd before your best friends here? don't you blush at it?
_Clar._ I do blush, my dear, but 'tis for you, that here it shou'd
appear to the world, you keep me so bare of money, I'm forc'd to pawn
my jewels.
_Gripe._ Impudent houswife!
[_Raising his hand to strike her._
_Clar._ Softly, chicken: you might have prevented all this by giving me
the two hundred and fifty pounds you sent to _Araminta_ e'en now.
_Brass._ You see, Sir, I deliver'd your note: how I have been abus'd
to-day!
_Gripe._ I'm betray'd----jades on both sides, I see that.
[_Aside._
_Mon._ But, Madam, Madam, is this true I hear? Have you taken a present
of two hundred and fifty pounds? Pray what were you to return for these
pounds, Madam, ha?
_Aram._ Nothing, my dear, I only took 'em to reimburse you of about the
same sum you sent to _Clarissa_.
_Mon._ Hum, hum, hum.
_Gripe._ How, gentlewoman, did you receive money from him?
_Clar._ O, my dear, 'twas only in jest, I knew you'd give it again to
his wife.
_Aml._ But amongst all this tintamar, I don't hear a word of my hundred
pounds. Is it Madam will pay me, or Master?
_Gripe._ I pay, the Devil shall pay.
_Clar._ Look you, my dear, malice apart, pay Mrs. _Amlet_ her money,
and I'll forgive you the wrong you intended my bed with _Araminta_: Am
not I a good wife now?
_Gripe._ I burst with rage, and will get rid of this noose, tho' I tuck
myself up in another.
_Mon._ Nay, pray, e'en tuck me up with you.
[_Exit ~Mon.~ and ~Gripe.~_
_Clar. & Aram._ B'ye, dearies.
_Enter ~Dick~._
_Cor._ Look, look, _Flippanta_, here's the colonel come at last.
_Dick._ Ladies, I ask your pardon, I have stay'd so long, but----
_Aml._ Ah rogue's face, have I got thee, old Good-for-nought? sirrah,
sirrah, do you think to amuse me with your marriages, and your great
fortunes? Thou hast play'd me a rare prank by my conscience. Why you
ungracious rascal, what do you think will be the end of all this? Now
Heaven forgive me, but I have a great mind to hang thee for't.
_Cor._ She talks to him very familiarly, _Flippanta_.
_Flip._ So methinks, by my faith.
_Brass._ Now the rogue's star is making an end of him.
[_Aside._
_Dick._ What shall I do with her?
[_Aside._
_Aml._ Do but look at him, my dames, he has the countenance of a
cherubim, but he's a rogue in his heart.
_Clar._ What is the meaning of all this, Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ The meaning, good lack! Why this all-to-be powder'd rascal here,
is my son, an't please you; ha, graceless? Now I'll make you own your
mother, vermine.
_Clar._ What, the colonel your son?
_Aml._ 'Tis _Dick_, Madam, that rogue _Dick_, I have so often told you
of, with tears trickling down my old cheeks.
_Aram._ The woman's mad, it can never be.
_Aml._ Speak, rogue, am I not thy mother, ha? Did I not bring thee
forth? say then.
_Dick._ What will you have me say? you had a mind to ruin me, and you
have done't; wou'd you do any more?
_Clar._ Then, sir, you are son to good Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aram._ And have had the assurance to put upon us all this while?
_Flip._ And the confidence to think of marrying _Corinna_.
_Brass._ And the impudence to hire me for your servant, who am as well
born as yourself.
_Clar._ Indeed I think he shou'd be corrected.
_Aram._ Indeed I think he deserves to be cudgell'd.
_Flip._ Indeed I think he might be pumpt.
_Brass._ Indeed I think he will be hang'd.
_Aml._ Good lack-a-day, good lack-a-day! there's no need to be so smart
upon him neither: if he is not a gentleman, he's a gentleman's fellow.
Come hither, _Dick_, they shan't run thee down neither: cock up thy
hat, _Dick_, and tell them tho' Mrs. _Amlet_ is thy mother, she can
make thee amends, with ten thousand good pounds to buy thee some lands,
and build thee a house in the midst on't.
_Omnes._ How!
_Clar._ Ten thousand pounds, Mrs. _Amlet_?
_Aml._ Yes, forsooth; tho' I shou'd lose the hundred, you pawn'd your
necklace for. Tell 'em that, _Dick_.
_Cor._ Look you, _Flippanta_, I can hold no longer, and I hate to see
the young man abus'd. And so, Sir, if you please, I'm your friend
and servant, and what's mine is yours; and when our estates are put
together, I don't doubt but we shall do as well as the best of 'em.
_Dick._ Say'st thou so, my little queen? Why then if dear mother will
give us her blessing, the parson shall give us a tack. We'll get her a
score of grand-children, and a merry house we'll make her.
[_They kneel to Mrs. ~Amlet~._
_Aml._ Ah----ha, ha, ha, the pretty pair, the pretty pair! rise my
chickens, rise, rise and face the proudest of them. And if Madam does
not deign to give her consent, a fig for her _Dick_----Why how now?
_Clar._ Pray, Mrs. _Amlet_, don't be in a passion, the girl is my
husband's girl, and if you can have his consent, upon my word you shall
have mine, for any thing that belongs to him.
_Flip._ Then all is peace again, but we have been more lucky than wise.
_Aram._ And I suppose, for us, _Clarissa_, we are to go on with our
dears, as we us'd to do.
_Clar._ Just in the same track, for this late treaty of agreement with
'em, was so unnatural, you see it cou'd not hold. But 'tis just as well
with us, as if it had. Well, 'tis a strange fate, good folks. But while
you live, every thing gets well out of a broil, but a husband.
EPILOGUE,
Spoken by Mrs. =Barry=.
_I've heard wise men in politicks lay down }
What feats by little England might be done, }
Were all agreed, and all would act as one. }
Ye wives a useful hint from this might take, }
The heavy, old, despotick kingdom shake, }
And make your matrimonial_ Monsieurs _quake. }
Our heads are feeble, and we're cramp'd by laws;
Our hands are weak, and not too strong our cause:
Yet would those heads and hands, such as they are, }
In firm confed'racy resolve on war, }
You'd find your tyrants----what I've found my dear. }
What only two united can produce
You've seen to-night, a sample for your use:
Single, we found we nothing could obtain;
We join our force--and we subdu'd our men.
Believe me (my dear sex) they are not brave;
Try each your man, you'll quickly find your slave.
I know they'll make campaigns, risk blood and life; }
But this is a more terrifying strife; }
They'll stand a shot, who'll tremble at a wife. }
Beat then your drums, and your shrill trumpets sound, }
Let all your visits of your feats resound: }
And deeds of war in cups of tea go round: }
The stars are with you, fate is in your hand, }
In twelve months time you've vanquish'd half the land; }
Be wise, and keep 'em under good command. }
This year will to your glory long be known,
And deathless ballads hand your triumphs down;
Your late atchievements ever will remain, }
For tho' you cannot boast of many slain, }
Your pris'ners shew, you've made a brave campaign._ }
[Illustration]
THE
MISTAKE.
A
COMEDY.
[Illustration]
PROLOGUE,
_Written by Mr._ +STEELE+.
Spoken by Mr. _Booth_.
_Our author's wit and rallery to-night }
Perhaps might please, but that your stage delight }
No more is in your minds, but ears and sight. }
With audiences compos'd of belles and beaux,
The first dramatick rule is, have good clothes,
To charm the gay spectator's gentle breast, }
In lace and feather Tragedy's express'd, }
And heroes die unpity'd, if ill-dress'd._ }
_The other stile you full as well advance;
If 'tis a comedy, you ask----who dance?
For oh! what dire convulsions have of late
Torn and distracted each dramatick state,
On this great question, which house first should sell
The new ~French~ steps imported by ~Ruel~!
~Desbarques~ can't rise so high, we must agree,
They've half a foot in height more wit than we.
But tho' the genius of our learned age }
Thinks fit to dance and sing, quite off the stage, }
True action, comic mirth, and tragic rage; }
Yet as your taste now stands, our author draws
Some hopes of your indulgence and applause.
For that great end this edifice he made,
Where humble swain at lady's feet is laid;
Where the pleas'd nymph her conquer'd lover spies, }
Then to glass pillars turns her conscious eyes, }
And points anew each charm, for which he dies._ }
_The muse, before nor terrible nor great,
Enjoys by him this awful gilded seat:
By him theatric angels mount more high,
And mimick thunders shake a broader sky.
Thus all must own, our author has done more
For your delight, than any bard before.
His thoughts are still to raise your pleasures fill'd;
To write, translate, to blazon, or to build.
Then take him in a lump, nor nicely pry
Into small faults that 'scape a busy eye;
But kindly, Sirs, consider, he to-day
Finds you the house, the actors, and the play:
So, tho' we stage-mechanick rules omit,
You must allow it in a whole-sale wit._
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
Don _Alvarez_, father to _Leonora_. Mr. _Betterton._
Don _Felix_, father to _Lorenzo_. Mr. _Bright._
Don _Carlos_, in love with _Leonora_. Mr. _Booth._
Don _Lorenzo_, in love with _Leonora_. Mr. _Husbands._
_Metaphrastus_, tutor to _Camillo_. Mr. _Freeman._
_Sancho_, Servant to _Carlos_. Mr. _Dogget._
_Lopez_, servant to _Lorenzo_. Mr. _Pack._
A Bravo.
WOMEN.
_Leonora_, daughter to _Alvarez_. Mrs. _Bowman._
_Camillo_, suppos'd son to _Alvarez_. Mrs. _Harcourt._
_Isabella_, her friend. Mrs. _Porter._
_Jacinta_, servant to _Leonora_. Mrs. _Baker._
THE
MISTAKE.
+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, _the Street_.
_Enter ~Carlos~ and ~Sancho~._
_Car._ I Tell thee, I am satisfy'd, I'm in love enough to be suspicious
of every body.
_San._ And yet methinks, Sir, you shou'd leave me out.
_Car._ It may be so; I can't tell: but I'm not at ease. If they don't
make a knave, at least they will make a fool of thee.
_San._ I don't believe a word on't: but good faith, Master, your love
makes somewhat of you; I don't know what 'tis; but methinks when you
suspect me, you don't seem a man of half those parts I us'd to take
you for. Look in my face, 'tis round and comely, not one hollow line
of a villain in it: men of my fabrick don't use to be suspected for
knaves; and when you take us for fools, we never take you for wise
men. For my part, in this present case, I take myself to be mighty
deep. A stander-by, Sir, sees more than a gamester. You are pleased
to be jealous of your poor Mistress without a cause, she uses you but
too well, in my humble opinion; she sees you, and talks with you, till
I'm quite tir'd on't sometimes; and your rival that you are so scar'd
about, forces a visit upon her about once in a fortnight.
_Car._ Alas, thou art ignorant of these affairs, he that's the civilest
received is often the least car'd for: women appear warm to one, to
hide a flame for another. _Lorenzo_ in short appears too compos'd of
late to be a rejected lover, and the indifference he shews upon the
favours I seem to receive from her, poisons the pleasure I else shou'd
taste in them, and keeps me upon a perpetual rack. No----I would fain
see some of his jealous transports, have him fire at the sight of
me, contradict me whenever I speak, affront me wherever he meets me,
challenge me, fight me----
_San._ ----Run you through the guts.
_Car._ But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease, to leave me
mine at rest.
_San._ But, Sir, you forget that there are two ways for our hearts to
get at ease; when our mistresses come to be very fond of us, or we--not
to care a fig for them. Now suppose upon the rebukes you know he has
had, it shou'd chance to be the latter.
_Car._ Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who has broke his
chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved him. Indifference never
is his lot; he loves or hates for ever; and if his mistress proves
another's prize, he cannot calmly see her in his arms.
_San._ For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher as you
be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover, but what I see----that I
generally believe; and when _Jacinta_ tells me she loves me dearly, I
have good thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth on't.
See here the baggage comes.
_Enter ~Jacinta~ with a letter._
Hist! _Jacinta_! my dear.
_Jacin._ Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master?
_San._ Hard by.
[_Shewing him._
_Jacin._ O, Sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; I believe I have
travel'd five miles after you, and could neither find you at home, nor
in the walks, nor at church, nor at the opera nor----
_San._ Nor any where else, where he was not to be found: if you had
look'd for him where he was, 'twas ten to one but you had met with him.
_Jacin._ I had, Jack-a-dandy!
_Car._ But pr'ythee what's the matter? Who sent you after me?
_Jacin._ One who's never well but when she sees you, I think; 'twas my
Lady.
_Car._ Dear _Jacinta_, I fain would flatter myself, but am not able;
the blessing's too great to be my lot: yet 'tis not well to trifle with
me; how short soe'er I am in other merit, the tenderness I have for
_Leonora_ claims something from her generosity. I should not be deluded.
_Jacin._ And why do you think you are? methinks she's pretty well above
board with you: what must be done more to satisfy you?
_San._ Why _Lorenzo_ must hang himself, and then we are content.
_Jacin._ How! _Lorenzo_?
_San._ If less will do, he'll tell you.
_Jacin._ Why, you are not mad, Sir, are you? Jealous of him! Pray which
way may this have got into your head? I took you for a man of sense
before----Is this your doings, dog?
[_To ~Sancho~._
_San._ No, forsooth _Pert_, I'm not much given to suspicion, as you can
tell, Mrs. _Forward_----if I were, I might find more cause I guess,
than your Mistress has given our Master here. But I have so many pretty
thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of yours, that I
stand in dread of no man.
_Jacin._ That's the way to prosper; however, so far I'll confess the
truth to thee; at least if that don't do, nothing else will. Men are
mighty simple in love-matters, Sir: when you suspect woman's a falling
off, you fall a plaguing her to bring her on again, attack her with
reason and a sour face: udslife, Sir, attack her with a fiddle,
double your good humour----give her a ball----powder your perriwig at
her----let her cheat you at cards a little, and I'll warrant all's
right again. But to come upon a poor woman with the gloomy face of
jealousy, before she gives the least occasion for't, is to set a
complaisant rival in too favourable a light. Sir, Sir, I must tell you,
I have seen those have ow'd their success to nothing else.
_Car._ Say no more; I have been to blame, but there shall be no more
on't.
_Jac._ I should punish you but justly however for what's past, if I
carried back what I have brought you; but I'm good-natur'd, so here
'tis; open it, and see how wrong you tim'd your jealousy.
_Car._ [Reads.] _If you love me with that tenderness you have made me
long believe you do, this letter will be welcome; 'tis to tell you, you
have leave to plead a daughter's weakness to a father's indulgence: and
if you prevail with him to lay his commands upon me, you shall be as
happy as my obedience to them can make you._ Leonora.
Then I shall be what man was never yet [_Kissing the Letter._] Ten
thousand blessings on thee for thy news, I could adore thee as a Deity.
[_Embracing ~Jacin~._
_Jacin._ True flesh and blood, every inch of her, for all that.
_Car._ [Reads again.] _And if you prevail with him to lay his commands
upon me, you shall be as happy as my obedience to them can make you._
O happy, happy _Carlos_! But what shall I say to thee for this welcome
message? [_To ~Jacinta~._] Alas! I want words----But let this speak for
me, and this, and this, and----
[_Giving her his ring, watch, and purse._
_San._ Hold, Sir; pray leave a little something for our board-wages.
You can't carry 'em all, I believe: [_To ~Jacinta~._] shall I ease thee
of this?
[_Offering to take the purse._
_Jacin._ No; but you may carry----That, sirrah.
[_Giving him a box o' th' ear._
_San._ The jade's grown purse-proud already.
_Car._ Well, dear _Jacinta_, say something to your charming mistress,
that I am not able to say myself: But, above all, excuse my late
unpardonable folly, and offer her my life to expiate my crime.
_Jacin._ The best plea for pardon will be never to repeat the fault.
_Car._ If that will do 'tis seal'd for ever.
_Jacin._ Enough; but I must be gone; success attend you with the old
gentleman. Good-by t'ye, Sir.
[_Exit ~Jacin~._
_Car._ Eternal blessings follow thee.
_San._ I think she has taken them all with her; the jade has got her
apron full.
_Car._ Is not that _Lorenzo_ coming this way?
_San._ Yes, 'tis he; for my part now I pity the poor gentleman.
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
_Car._ I'll let him see at last I can be chearful too. Your servant,
Don _Lorenzo_; how do you do this morning?
_Lor._ I thank you, Don _Carlos_, perfectly well both in body and mind.
_Car._ What! cur'd of your love, then?
_Lor._ No, nor I hope I never shall. May I ask you how 'tis with yours?
_Car._ Increasing every hour; we are very constant both.
_Lor._ I find so much delight in being so, I hope I never shall be
otherwise.
_Car._ Those joys I am well acquainted with. But should lose them soon,
were I to meet a cool reception.
_Lor._ That's every generous lover's case, no doubt; an angel could not
fire my heart but with an equal flame.
_Car._ And yet you said you still lov'd _Leonora_.
_Lor._ And yet I said I lov'd her.
_Car._ Does she then return you----
_Lor._ Everything my passion can require.
_Car._ Its wants are small, I find.
_Lor._ Extended as the Heavens.
_Car._ I pity you.
_Lor._ He must be a Deity that does so.
_Car._ Yet I'm a mortal, and once more can pity you. Alas, _Lorenzo_,
'tis a poor cordial to an aching heart, to have the tongue alone
announce it happy; besides 'tis mean, you should be more a man.
_Lor._ I find I have made you an unhappy one, so can forgive the
boilings of your spleen.
_Car._ This seeming calmness might have the effect your vanity proposes
by it; had I not a testimony of her love would (should I shew it) sink
you to the center.
_Lor._ Yet still I'm calm as ever.
_Car._ Nay then have at your peace. Read that, and end the farce.
[_Gives him ~Leonora~'s letter._
_Lor._ [_Reads._] I have read it.
_Car._ And know the hand?
_Lor._ 'Tis _Leonora_'s; I have often seen it.
_Car._ I hope you then at last are satisfied.
_Lor._ I am, [_Smiling._] Good-morrow, _Carlos_.
[_Exit ~Lor~._
_San._ Sure he's mad, Master.
_Car._ Mad! say'st thou?
_San._ And yet by'r lady, that was a sort of a dry sober smile at going
off.
_Car._ A very sober one! Had he shewn me such a letter, I had put on
another countenance.
_San._ Ay, o' my conscience had you.
_Car._ Here's mystery in this----I like it not.
_San._ I see his man and confidant there, _Lopez_. Shall I draw on a
_Scotch_ pair of boots, Master, and make him tell all?
_Car._ Some questions I must ask him; call him hither.
_San._ Hem, _Lopez_, hem!
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lop._ Who calls?
_San._ I, and my master.
_Lop._ I can't stay.
_San._ You can indeed, Sir.
[_Laying hold on him._
_Car._ Whither in such haste, honest _Lopez_! What! upon some love
errand?
_Lop._ Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon, but I was going----
_Car._ I guess where; but you need not be shy of me any more, thy
master and I are no longer rivals; I have yielded up the cause; the
lady will have it so, so I submit.
_Lop._ Is it possible, Sir, shall I then live to see my master and you
friends again?
_San._ Yes; and what's better, thou and I shall be friends too. There
will be no more fear of Christian bloodshed. I give thee up _Jacinta_;
she's a slippery hussy, so master and I are going to match ourselves
elsewhere.
_Lop._ But is it possible, Sir, your honour should be in earnest? I'm
afraid you are pleased to be merry with your poor humble servant.
_Car._ I'm not at present much dispos'd to mirth, my indifference in
this matter is not so thoroughly form'd; but my reason has so far
master'd my passion, to shew me 'tis in vain to pursue a woman whose
heart already is another's. 'Tis what I have so plainly seen of late, I
have rous'd my resolution to my aid, and broke my chains for ever.
_Lop._ Well, Sir, to be plain with you, this is the joyfullest news I
have heard this long time; for I always knew you to be a mighty honest
gentleman, and good faith it often went to the heart o' me to see you
so abused. Dear, dear have I often said to myself (when they have had a
private meeting just after you have been gone)----
_Car._ Ha!
_San._ Hold, Master, don't kill him yet.
[_To ~Car.~ aside._
_Lop._ I say I have said to myself, what wicked things are women, and
what pity it is they should be suffer'd in a Christian country; what
a shame they should be allow'd to play Will-in-the-wisp with men of
honour, and lead them thro' thorns and briars, and rocks, and rugged
ways, 'till their hearts are all torn to pieces, like an old coat in a
fox-chace; I say, I have said to myself----
_Car._ Thou hast said enough to thyself, but say a little more to me:
Where were these secret meetings thou talk'st of?
_Lop._ In sundry places, and by divers ways; sometimes in the cellar,
sometimes in the garret, sometimes in the court, sometimes in the
gutter; but the place where the kiss of kisses was given was----
_Car._ In Hell.
_Lop._ Sir!
_Car._ Speak, fury, what dost thou mean by the kiss of kisses?
_Lop._ The kiss of peace, Sir, the kiss of union; the kiss of
consummation.
_Car._ Thou ly'st, villain.
_Lop._ I don't know but I may, Sir,----What the Devil's the matter now?
[_Aside._
_Car._ There's not a word of truth in all thy cursed tongue has utter'd.
_Lop._ No, Sir, I----I----believe there is not.
_Car._ Why then didst thou say it, wretch?
_Lop._ O----only in jest. Sir.
_Car._ I am not in a jesting condition.
_Lop._ Nor I at present, Sir.
_Car._ Speak then the truth, as thou wouldst do it at the hour of death.
_Lop._ Yes, at the gallows, and be turn'd off as soon as I've done.
[_Aside._
_Car._ What's that you murmur?
_Lop._ Nothing but a short prayer.
_Car._ I am distracted, and fright the wretch from telling me what I am
upon the rack to know. [_Aside._] Forgive me, _Lopez_, I am to blame
to speak thus harshly to thee: let this obtain thy pardon. [_Gives him
money._] Thou see'st I am disturb'd.
_Lop._ Yes, Sir, I see I have been led into a snare; I have said too
much.
_Car._ And yet you must say more; nothing can lessen my torment, but
a farther knowledge of what causes my misery. Speak then! Have I any
thing to hope?
_Lop._ Nothing; but that you may be a happier bachelor, than my master
may probably be a married man.
_Car._ Married, say'st thou?
_Lop._ I did, Sir, and believe he'll say so too in a twelvemonth.
_Car._ O torment!----But give me more on't: When, how, to whom, where?
_Lop._ Yesterday, to _Leonora_, by the parson, in the pantry.
_Car._ Look to't, if this be false, thy life shall pay the torment thou
hast given me: be gone.
_Lop._ With the body and the soul o'me.
[_Ex. ~Lopez~._
_San._ Base news, Master.
_Car._ Now my insulting rival's smile speaks out: O cursed, cursed
woman!
_Enter ~Jacinta~._
_Jacin._ I'm come in haste to tell you, Sir, that as soon as the moon's
up, my lady will give you a meeting in the close-walk by the back-door
of the garden; she thinks she has something to propose to you will
certainly get her father's consent to marry you.
_Car._ Past sufferance! this aggravation is not to be borne: go, thank
her--with my curses: fly----and let them blast her, while their venom
is strong.
[_Exit ~Car~._
_Jacin._----Won't thou explain? What's this storm for?
_San._ And dar'st thou ask me questions, smooth-faced iniquity,
crocodile of _Nile_, syren of the rocks? Go carry back the too gentle
answer thou hast received: only let me add with the poet:
_We are no fools, trollop, my Master nor me;
And thy Mistress may go----to the Devil with thee._
[_Exit ~Sancho~._
_~Jacinta~ sola._
Am I awake!----I fancy not; a very idle dream this. Well: I'll go talk
in my sleep to my lady about it; and when I awake, we'll try what
interpretation we can make on't.
[_Exit._
+ACT+ II. +SCENE+ I.
_Enter ~Camillo~ and ~Isabella~._
=Isabella.=
How can you doubt my secrecy? Have you not proofs of it?
_Cam._ Nay I am determin'd to trust you; but are we safe here? can no
body over-hear us?
_Isab._ Much safer than in a room. No body can come within hearing,
before we see them.
_Cam._ And yet how hard 'tis for me to break silence!
_Isab._ Your secret sure must be of great importance.
_Cam._ You may be sure it is, when I confess 'tis with regret I own it
e'en to you; and were it possible, you should not know it.
_Isab._ 'Tis frankly own'd, indeed; but 'tis not kind, perhaps not
prudent; after what you know I already am acquainted with. Have not I
been bred up with you? And am I ignorant of a secret, which were it
known----
_Cam._ Would be my ruin; I confess it would. I own you know why both
my birth and sex are thus disguised; you know how I was taken from
my cradle to secure the estate, which had else been lost by young
_Camillo_'s death; but which is now safe in my supposed father's hands,
by my passing for his son; and 'tis because you know all this, I have
resolved to open farther wonders to you. But before I say any more,
you must resolve one doubt, which often gives me great disturbance;
whether Don _Alvarez_ ever was himself privy to the Mystery which has
disguised my sex, and made me pass for his son?
_Isab._ What you ask me, is a thing has often perplex'd my thoughts,
as well as yours, nor could my mother ever resolve the doubt. You know
when that young child _Camillo_ dy'd, in whom was wrapt up so much
expectation, from the great estate his uncle's will (even before he
came into the world) had left him; his mother made a secret of his
death to her husband _Alvarez_, and readily fell in with a proposal
made her to take you (who then was just _Camillo_'s Age) and bring
you up in his room. You have heard how you were then at nurse with my
mother, and how your own was privy and consenting to the plot; but Don
_Alvarez_ was never led into it by 'em.
_Cam._ Don't you then think it probable his wife might after tell him?
_Isab._ 'Twas ever thought nothing but a death-bed repentance cou'd
draw it from her to any one; and that was prevented by the suddenness
of her exit to t'other world, which did not give her even time to call
Heaven's mercy on her. And yet now I have said all this, I own the
correspondence and friendship I observe he holds with your real mother,
gives me some suspicion, and the presents he often makes her (which
people seldom do for nothing) confirm it. But since this is all I can
say to you on that point, pray let us come to the secret, which you
have made me impatient to hear.
_Cam._ Know then, that tho' _Cupid_ is blind, he is not to be deceived:
I can hide my sex from the world but not from him; his dart has found
the way thro' the manly garb I wear to pierce a virgin's tender
heart----I love----
_Isab._ How!
_Cam._ Nay be'nt surpriz'd at that, I have other wonders for you.
_Isab._ Quick, let me hear 'em.
_Cam._ I love _Lorenzo_.
_Isab._ _Lorenzo_! Most nicely hit. The very man from whom your
imposture keeps this vast estate; and who on the first knowledge of
your being a woman wou'd enter into possession of it. This is indeed a
wonder.
_Cam._ Then wonder still, I am his wife.
_Isab._ Ha! his wife!
_Cam._ His wife, _Isabella_; and yet thou hast not all my wonders, I am
his wife without his knowledge: he does not even know I am a woman.
_Isab._ Madam, your humble servant; if you please to go on, I won't
interrupt you, indeed I won't.
_Cam._ Then hear how these strange things have past; _Lorenzo_, bound
unregarded in my sister's chains, seem'd in my eyes a conquest worth
her care. Nor cou'd I see him treated with contempt, without growing
warm in his interest: I blam'd _Leonora_ for not being touch'd with his
merit; I blam'd her so long, 'till I grew touch'd with it myself: and
the reasons I urg'd to vanquish her heart, insensibly made a conquest
of my own: 'Twas thus, my friend, I fell. What was next to be done my
passion pointed out; my heart I felt was warm'd to a noble enterprize,
I gave it way, and boldly on it led me. _Leonora_'s name and voice,
in the dark shades of night, I borrow'd, to engage the object of my
wishes. I met him, _Isabella_, and so deceived him; he cannot blame
me sure, for much I blest him. But to finish this strange story: in
short I own, I long had lov'd, but finding my father most averse to my
desires, I at last had forc'd myself to this secret correspondence;
I urg'd the mischiefs would attend the knowledge on't, I urg'd them
so, he thought them full of weight, so yielded to observe what rules
I gave him: they were, to pass the day in cold indifference, to avoid
even signs or looks of intimacy, but gather for the still, the secret
night, a flood of love to recompence the losses of the day. I will not
trouble you with lovers cares, nor what contrivances we form'd to bring
this toying to a solid bliss. Know only, when three nights we thus had
pass'd, the fourth it was agreed should make us one for ever; each kept
their promise, and last night has join'd us.
_Isab._ Indeed your talents pass my poor extent; you serious ladies are
well form'd for business: What wretched work a poor coquet had made
on't! But still there's that remains will try your skill; you have your
man, but----
_Cam._ Lovers think no farther, the object of that passion possesses
all desire; however I have open'd to you my wond'rous situation. If
you can advise me in my difficulties to come, you will. But see----My
husband!
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
_Lor._ You look as if you were busy, pray tell me if I interrupt you,
I'll retire.
_Cam._ No, no, you have a right to interrupt us, since you were the
subject of our discourse.
_Lor._ Was I?
_Cam._ You were; nay, I'll tell you how you entertain'd us too.
_Lor._ Perhaps I had as good avoid hearing that.
_Cam._ You need not fear, it was not to your disadvantage; I was
commending you and saying, if I had been a woman I had been in danger;
nay I think I said I shou'd infallibly have been in love with you.
_Lor._ While such an If is in the way, you run no great risque in
declaring; but you'd be finely catch'd now, shou'd some wonderful
transformation give me a claim to your heart.
_Cam._ Not sorry for't at all, for I ne'er expect to find a mistress
please me half so well as you would do if I were yours.
_Lor._ Since you are so well inclin'd to me in your wishes, Sir, I
suppose (as the fates have ordain'd it) you wou'd have some pleasure in
helping me to a mistress, since you can't be mine yourself.
_Cam._ Indeed I shou'd not.
_Lor._ Then my obligation is but small to you.
_Cam._ Why, wou'd you have a woman, that is in love with you herself,
employ her interest to help you to another?
_Lor._ No, but you being no woman might.
_Cam._ Sir, 'tis as a woman I say what I do, and I suppose myself a
woman when I design all these favours to you: therefore out of that
supposition, I have no other good intentions to you than you may expect
from one that says he's----Sir, your humble servant.
_Lor._ So unless Heaven is pleas'd to work a miracle, and from a sturdy
young fellow, make you a kind-hearted young lady, I'm to get little by
your good opinion of me.
_Cam._ Yes; there is one means yet left (on this side a miracle) that
wou'd perhaps engage me, if with an honest oath you could declare,
were I woman, I might dispute your heart even with the first of my
pretending sex.
_Lor._ Then solemnly and honestly I swear, that had you been a woman,
and I the master of the world, I think I should have laid it at your
feet.
_Cam._ Then honestly and solemnly I swear, henceforwards all your
interest shall be mine.
_Lor._ I have a secret to impart to you will quickly try your
friendship.
_Cam._ I've a secret to unfold to you will put you even to a fiery
trial.
_Lor._ What do you mean, _Camillo_?
_Cam._ I mean that I love, where I never durst yet own it, yet where
'tis in your power to make me the happiest of----
_Lor._ Explain, _Camillo_; and be assur'd if your happiness is in my
power, 'tis in your own.
_Cam._ Alas! you promise me you know not what.
_Lor._ I promise nothing but what I will perform; name the person.
_Cam._ 'Tis one who is very near to you.
_Lor._ If 'tis my sister, why all this pain in bringing forth the
secret?
_Cam._ Alas! it is your----
_Lor._ Speak!
_Cam._ I cannot yet; farewel.
_Lor._ Hold! Pray speak it now.
_Cam._ I must not: but when you tell me your secret, you shall know
mine.
_Lor._ Mine is not in my power, without the consent of another.
_Cam._ Get that consent, and then we'll try who best will keep their
oaths.
_Lor._ I am content.
_Cam._ And I. Adieu.
_Lor._ Farewel.
[_Exit ~Lorenzo~._
_Enter ~Leonora~ and ~Jacinta~._
_Leo._ 'Tis enough: I will revenge myself this way; if it does but
torment him, I shall be content to find no other pleasure in it.
Brother, you'll wonder at my change; after all my ill usage of
_Lorenzo_, I am determined to be his wife.
_Cam._ How, sister! so sudden a turn? This inequality of temper indeed
is not commendable.
_Leo._ Your change, brother, is much more justly surprizing; you
hitherto have pleaded for him strongly, accus'd me of blindness,
cruelty, and pride; and now I yield to your reasons, and resolve in his
favour, you blame my compliance, and appear against his interest.
_Cam._ I quit his service for what's dearer to me, yours. I have
learn'd from sure intelligence, the attack he made on you was but a
feint, and that his heart is in another's chain; I would not therefore
see you expos'd, to offer up yourself to one who must refuse you.
_Leo._ If that be all, leave me my honour to take care of; I am no
stranger to his wishes, he won't refuse me, brother, nor I hope will
you, to tell him of my resolution: if you do, this moment with my own
tongue (thro' all the virgin's blushes) I'll own to him I am determin'd
in his favour----You pause as if you'd let the task lie on me.
_Cam._ Neither on you, nor me; I have a reason you are yet a stranger
to: know then there is a virgin young and tender, whose peace and
happiness so much are mine, I cannot see her miserable; she loves him
with that torrent of desire, that were the world resign'd her in
his stead, she'd still be wretched: I will not pique you to a female
strife, by saying you have not charms to tear him from her; but I would
move you to a female softness, by telling you her death wou'd wait your
conquest. What I have more to plead is as a brother, I hope that gives
me some small interest in you; whate'er it is, you see how I'd employ
it.
_Leo._ You ne'er cou'd put it to a harder service. I beg a little time
to think: pray leave me to myself a while.
_Cam._ I shall; I only ask that you wou'd think, and then you won't
refuse me.
[_Exit ~Cam~._
_Jacin._ Indeed, Madam, I'm of your brother's mind, tho' for another
cause; but sure 'tis worth thinking twice on for your own sake: you are
too violent.
_Leo._ A slighted woman knows no bounds. Vengeance is all the cordial
she can have, so snatches at the nearest. Ungrateful wretch! to use me
with such insolence.
_Jacin._ You see me as much enrag'd at it, as you are yourself, yet
my brain is roving after the cause, for something there must be:
never letter was receiv'd by man with more passion and transport; I
was almost as charming a goddess as yourself, only for bringing it.
Yet when in a moment after I come with a message worth a dozen on't,
never was witch so handled; something must have pass'd between one and
t'other, that's sure.
_Leo._ Nothing cou'd pass worth my enquiring after, since nothing cou'd
happen that can excuse his usage of me; he had a letter under my hand
which own'd him master of my heart; and till I contradicted it with my
mouth, he ought not to doubt the truth on't.
_Jacin._ Nay I confess, madam, I han't a word to say for him, I'm
afraid he's a rogue at bottom, as well as my shameless that attends
him; we are bit, by my troth, and haply well enough serv'd, for
list'ning to the glib tongues of the rascals: but be comforted, Madam;
they'll fall into the hands of some foul sluts or other, before they
die, that will set our account even with e'm.
_Leo._ Well: let him laugh; let him glory in what he has done: he shall
see I have a spirit can use him as I ought.
_Jacin._ And let one thing be your comfort by the way, Madam, that in
spite of all your dear affections to him, you have had the grace to
keep him at arms length. You han't thank'd me for't; but good faith
'twas well I did not stir out of the chamber that fond night. For there
are times the stoutest of us are in danger, the rascals wheedle so.
_Leo._ In short, my very soul is fir'd with his treatment: and if ever
that perfidious monster should relent, though he should crawl like a
poor worm beneath my feet, nay plunge a dagger in his heart, to bleed
for pardon; I charge thee strictly, charge thee on thy life, thou do
not urge a look to melt me toward him, but strongly buoy me up in
brave resentment; and if thou see'st (which heav'ns avert) a glance
of weakness in me, rouse to my memory the vile wrongs I've borne, and
blazon them with skill in all their glaring colours.
_Jacin._ Madam, never doubt me; I'm charged to the mouth with fury,
and if ever I meet that fat traitor of mine, such a volley will I
pour about his ears----Now heav'n prevent all hasty vows; but in the
humour I am, methinks I'd carry my maiden-head to my cold grave with
me, before I'd let it simper at the rascal. But soft; here comes your
father.
_Enter ~Alvarez~._
_Alv._ _Leonora_, I'd have you retire a little, and send your brother's
tutor to me, _Metaphrastus_.
[_Exit ~Leo.~ and ~Jacin~._
_Solus._
I'll try if I can discover, by his tutor, what it is that seems so much
to work his brain of late; for something more than common there plainly
does appear, yet nothing sure that can disturb his soul, like what
I have to torture mine upon his account. Sure nothing in this world
is worth a troubled mind: what racks has avarice stretch'd me on! I
wanted nothing, kind heav'n had given me a plenteous lot, and seated
me in great abundance; why then approve I of this imposture? What have
I gain'd by it? Wealth and misery. I have barter'd peaceful days for
restless nights; a wretched bargain! and he that merchandises thus,
must be undone at last.
_Enter ~Metaphrastus~._
_Metaph._ _Mandatum tuum curo diligenter._
_Alv._ Master, I had a mind to ask you----
_Metaph._ The title, master, comes from _Magis_ and _Ter_, which is as
much, to say, _thrice worthy_.
_Alv._ I never heard so much before, but it may be true for ought I
know: but, master----
_Metaph._ Go on.
_Alv._ Why so I will if you'll let me, but don't interrupt me then.
_Metaph._ Enough, proceed.
_Alv._ Why then, master, for a third time, my son _Camillo_ gives me
much uneasiness of late; you know I love him, and have many careful
thoughts about him.
_Metaph._ 'Tis true. _Filio non potest præferri nisi filius._
_Alv._ Master, when one has business to talk on, these scholastic
expressions are not of use; I believe you a great Latinist; possibly
you may understand _Greek_: those who recommended you to me, said so,
and I am willing it should be true: but the thing I want to discourse
you about at present, does not properly give you an occasion to display
your learning. Besides, to tell you truth, 'twill at all times be lost
upon me; my father was a wise man, but he taught me nothing beyond
common sense; I know but one tongue in the world, which luckily being
understood by you as well as me, I fancy whatever thoughts we have to
communicate to one another, may reasonably be convey'd in that, without
having recourse to the language of _Julius Cæsar_.
_Metaph._ You are wrong, but may proceed.
_Alv._ I thank you: what is the matter, I do not know; but tho' it is
of the utmost consequence to me to marry my son, what match soever I
propose to him, he still finds some pretence or other to decline it.
_Metaph._ He is, perhaps, of the humour of a brother of _Marcus
Tullius_, who----
_Alv._ Dear master, leave the _Greeks_, and the _Latins_, and the
_Scotch_, and the _Welsh_, and let me go on in my business; what have
those people to do with my son's marriage?
_Metaph._ Again you are wrong; but go on.
_Alv._ I say then, that I have strong apprehensions from his refusing
all my proposals, that he may have some secret inclination of his own;
and to confirm me in this fear, I yesterday observed him (without his
knowing it) in a corner of the grove, where nobody comes----
_Metaph._ A place out of the way, you would say; a place of retreat.
_Alv._ Why, the corner of the grove, where nobody comes, is a place of
retreat, is it not?
_Metaph._ In _Latin_, _secessus_.
_Alv._ Ha!
_Metaph._ As _Virgil_ has it. _Est in secessu locus._
_Alv._ How could _Virgil_ have it, when I tell you no soul was there
but he and I?
_Metaph._ _Virgil_ is a famous author, I quote his saying as a phrase
more proper to the occasion than that you use, and not as one who was
in the wood with you.
_Alv._ And I tell you, I hope to be as famous as any _Virgil_ of 'em
all, when I have been dead as long, and have no need of a better phrase
than my own to tell you my meaning.
_Metaph._ You ought however to make choice of the words most us'd by
the best authors. _Tu vivendo bonos_, as they say, _scribendo sequare
peritos_.
_Alv._ Again!
_Metaph._ 'Tis _Quintilian_'s own precept.
_Alv._ Oons----
_Metaph._ And he hath something very learned upon it, that may be of
service to you to hear.
_Alv._ You son of a whore, will you hear me speak?
_Metaph._ What may be the occasion of this unmanly passion? What is it
you would have with me?
_Alv._ What you might have known an hour ago, if you had pleas'd.
_Metaph._ You would then have me hold my peace.----I shall.
_Alv._ You will do very well.
_Metaph._ You see I do; well, go on.
_Alv._ Why then, to begin once again, I say my son _Camillo_----
_Metaph._ Proceed; I shan't interrupt you.
_Alv._ I say, my son _Camillo_----
_Metaph._ What is it you say of your son _Camillo_?
_Alv._ That he has got a dog of a tutor, whose brains I'll beat out, if
he won't hear me speak.
_Metaph._ That dog is a philosopher, contemns passion, and yet will
hear you.
_Alv._ I don't believe a word on't, but I'll try once again; I have a
mind to know from you, whether you have observ'd any thing in my son----
_Metaph._ Nothing that is like his father. Go on.
_Alv._ Have a care.
_Metaph._ I do not interrupt you; but you are long in coming to a
conclusion.
_Alv._ Why, thou hast not let me begin yet.
_Metaph._ And yet 'tis high time to have made an end.
_Alv._ Dost thou know thy danger? I have not----thus much patience left.
[_Shewing the end of his finger_.
_Metaph._ Mine is already consum'd. I do not use to be thus treated; my
profession is to teach, and not to hear, yet I have hearken'd like a
school-boy, and am not heard, altho' a master.
_Alv._ Get out of the room.
_Metaph._ I will not. If the mouth of a wise man be shut, he is, as it
were, a fool; for who shall know his understanding? Therefore a certain
philosopher said well, Speak, that thou may'st be known; great talkers,
without knowledge, are as the winds that whistle; but they who have
learning, should speak aloud. If this be not permitted, we may expect
to see the whole order of nature o'erthrown; hens devour foxes, and
lambs destroy wolves, nurses suck children, and children give suck;
generals mend stockings, and chambermaids take towns; we may expect, I
say----
_Alv._ That, and that, and that, and----
[_Strikes him, and kicks him; and then follows him
off with a bell at his ear._
_Metaph. O tempora! O mores!_
+ACT+ III. +SCENE+ I.
+SCENE+, _the Street_.
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lop._ Sometimes fortune seconds a bold design, and when folly has
brought us into a trap, impudence brings us out on't. I have been
caught by this hot-headed lover here, and have told like a puppy what
I shall be beaten for like a dog. Come! courage, my dear _Lopez_; fire
will fetch out fire: thou hast told one body thy master's secret, e'en
tell it to half a dozen more, and try how that will thrive; go tell it
to the two old Dons, the lovers fathers. The thing's done, and can't
be retriev'd; perhaps they'll lay their two ancient heads together,
club a pennyworth of wisdom a-piece, and with great penetration at last
find out, that 'tis best to submit, where 'tis not in their power to do
otherwise. This being resolv'd, there's no time to be lost.
[_Knocks at ~Alvarez~'s door._
_Alv._ Who knocks?
[_Within._
_Lop._ _Lopez_.
_Alv._ What dost want?
[_Looking out._
_Lop._ To bid you good-morrow, Sir.
_Alv._ Well, good-morrow to thee again.
[_Retires._
_Lop._ What a----I think he does not care for my company.
[_Knocks again._
_Alv._ Who knocks?
_Lop._ _Lopez_.
_Alv._ What would'st have?
[_Looking out._
_Lop._ My old master, Sir, gives his service to you, and desires to
know how you do.
_Alv._ How I do? Why well: how shou'd I do? Service to him again.
[_Retires._
_Lop._ Sir.
_Alv._ [_Returning._] What the deuce wouldst thou have with me, with
thy good-morrows, and thy services?
_Lop._ This man does not understand good breeding, I find. [_Aside._]
Why, Sir, my master has some very earnest business with you.
_Alv._ Business! About what? What business can he have with me?
_Lop._ I don't know, truly; but 'tis some very important matter: he has
just now (as I hear) discover'd some great secret, which he must needs
talk with you about.
_Alv._ Ha! a secret, say'st thou?
_Lop._ Yes; and bid me bring him word, if you were at home, he'd be
with you presently. Sir, your humble servant.
[_Exit ~Lopez~._
_~Alvarez~ solus._
A secret: and must speak with me about it! Heav'ns, how I tremble!
What can this message mean? I have very little acquaintance with him,
what business can he have with me? An important secret 'twas, he
said, and that he had just discover'd it. Alas, I have in the world
but one, if it be that----I'm lost; an eternal blot must fix upon me.
How unfortunate am I, that I have not follow'd the honest counsels
of my heart, which have often urg'd me to set my conscience at ease,
by rendering to him the estate that is his due, and which by a foul
imposture I keep from him. But 'tis now too late; my villainy is out,
and I shall not only be forc'd with shame to restore him what is his,
but shall be perhaps condemned to make him reparation with my own. O
terrible view!
_Enter Don ~Felix~._
Don _Fel._ My son to go and marry her, without her father's knowledge?
This can never end well. I don't know what to do, he'll conclude I was
privy to it, and his power and interest are so great at court, he may
with ease contrive my ruin: I tremble at his sending to speak with
me----Mercy on me, there he is.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ Ah! Shield me, kind heaven! There's Don Felix come: how I am
struck with the sight of him! O the torment of a guilty mind!
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ What shall I say to soften him?
[_Aside._
_Alv._ How shall I look him in the face?
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ 'Tis impossible he can forgive it.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ To be sure he'll expose me to the whole world.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ I see his countenance change.
[_Aside._
_Alv._ With what contempt he looks upon me!
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ I see, Don _Alvarez_, by the disorder of your face, you are
but too well inform'd of what brings me here.
_Alv._ 'Tis true.
Don _Fel._ The news may well surprize you, 'tis what I have been far
from apprehending.
_Alv._ Wrong, very wrong, indeed.
Don _Fel._ This action is certainly to the last point to be condemn'd,
and I think nobody should pretend to excuse the guilty.
_Alv._ They are not to be excus'd, tho' heaven may have mercy.
Don _Fel._ That's what I hope you will consider.
_Alv._ We should act as Christians.
Don _Fel._ Most certainly.
_Alv._ Let mercy then prevail.
Don _Fel._ It is indeed of heavenly birth.
_Alv._ Generous Don _Felix_!
Don _Fel._ Too indulgent _Alvarez_!
_Alv._ I thank you on my knee.
Don _Fel._ 'Tis I ought to have been there first.
[_They kneel._
_Alv._ Is it then possible we are friends?
Don _Fel._ Embrace me to confirm it.
[_They embrace._
_Alv._ Thou best of men!
Don _Fel._ Unlook'd-for bounty!
_Alv._ Did you know the torment [_Rising._] this unhappy action has
given me----
Don. _Fel._ 'Tis impossible it could do otherwise; nor has my trouble
been less.
_Alv._ But let my misfortune be kept secret.
Don _Fel._ Most willingly; my advantage is sufficient by it, without
the vanity of making it publick to the world.
_Alv._ Incomparable goodness! That I should thus have wronged a man so
worthy! [_Aside._] My honour then, is safe?
Don _Fel._ For ever, even for ever let it be a secret, I am content.
_Alv._ Noble gentleman! [_Aside._] As to what advantages ought to
accrue to you by it, it shall be all to your entire satisfaction.
Don _Fel._ Wonderful bounty! [_Aside._] As to that, Don _Alvarez_, I
leave it entirely to you, and shall be content with whatever you think
reasonable.
_Alv._ I thank you, from my soul I must, you know I must.----This must
be an angel, not a man.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ The thanks lie on my side, _Alvarez_, for this unexpected
generosity, but may all faults be forgot, and heav'n ever prosper you.
_Alv._ The same prayer I, with a double fervour, offer up for you.
Don _Fel._ Let us then once more embrace, and be forgiveness seal'd for
ever.
_Alv._ Agreed; thou best of men, agreed.
[_They embrace._
Don _Fel._ This thing then being thus happily terminated, let me own
to you, Don _Alvarez_, I was in extreme apprehensions of your utmost
resentment on this occasion; for I could not doubt but you had form'd
more happy views in the disposal of so fair a daughter as _Leonora_,
than my poor son's inferior fortune e'er can answer; but since they are
join'd, and that----
_Alv._ Ha!
Don _Fel._ Nay, 'tis very likely to discourse of it may not be very
pleasing to you, tho' your christianity and natural goodness have
prevail'd on you so generously to forgive it. But to do justice
to _Leonora_, and skreen her from your too harsh opinion in this
unlucky action, 'twas that cunning wicked creature that attends her,
who by unusual arts wrought her to this breach of duty, for her own
inclinations were dispos'd to all the modesty and resignation a father
could ask from a daughter; my son I can't excuse, but since your bounty
does so, I hope you'll quite forget the fault of the less guilty
_Leonora_.
_Alv._ What a mistake have I lain under here! And from a groundless
apprehension of one misfortune, find myself in the certainty of another.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ He looks disturb'd; what can this mean?
[_Aside._
_Alv._ My daughter marry'd to his son!----Confusion. But I find myself
in such unruly agitation, something wrong may happen if I continue with
him; I'll therefore leave him.
[_Aside._
Don _Fel._ You seem thoughtful, Sir, I hope there's no----
_Alv._ A sudden disorder I am seiz'd with; you'll pardon me, I must
retire.
[_Exit ~Alvarez~._
_Don ~Felix~ solus._
I don't like this: He went oddly off--I doubt he finds this bounty
difficult to go through with. His natural resentment is making an
attack upon his acquir'd generosity: pray heaven it ben't too strong
for't. The misfortune is a great one, and can't but touch him nearly.
It was not natural to be so calm; I wish it don't yet drive him to
my ruin. But here comes this young hot-brain'd coxcomb, who with his
midnight amours has been the cause of all this mischief to me.
_Enter ~Lorenzo~._
So, Sir, you are come to receive my thanks for your noble exploit?
You think you have done bravely now, ungracious offspring, to bring
perpetual troubles on me. Must there never pass a day, but I must drink
some bitter potion or other of your preparation for me?
_Lor._ I am amaz'd, Sir; pray what have I done to deserve your anger?
Don _Fel._ Nothing; no manner of thing in the world; nor never do. I
am an old testy fellow, and am always scolding, and finding fault for
nothing; complaining that I have got a coxcomb of a son, that makes me
weary of my life, fancying he perverts the order of nature, turning
day into night, and night into day; getting whims in my brain, that he
consumes his life in idleness, unless he rouses now and then to do some
noble stroke of mischief; and having an impertinent dream at this time,
that he has been making the fortune of the family, by an underhand
marriage with the daughter of a man who will crush us all to powder for
it. Ah----ungracious wretch; to bring an old man into all this trouble!
The pain thou gav'st thy mother to bring thee into the world, and the
plague thou hast given me to keep thee here, make the getting thee
(tho' 'twas in our honey-moon) a bitter remembrance to us both.
[_Exit Don ~Felix~._
_~Lorenzo~ solus._
So----all's out----Here's a noble storm arising, and I'm at sea in a
cock-boat. But which way could this business reach him? By this traitor
_Lopez_----it must be so; it could be no other way; for only he, and
the priest that marry'd us, knew of it. The villain will never confess
tho'. I must try a little address with him, and conceal my anger. O,
here he comes.
_Enter ~Lopez~._
_Lor._ _Lopez_.
_Lop._ Do you call, Sir?
_Lor._ I find all's discover'd to my father, the secret's out; he knows
my marriage.
_Lop._ He knows your marriage. How the pest should that happen? Sir,
'tis impossible; that's all.
_Lor._ I tell thee 'tis true; he knows every particular of it.
_Lop._ He does!----Why then, Sir, all I can say is, that Satan and he
are better acquainted than the devil and a good Christian ought to be.
_Lor._ Which way he has discover'd it I can't tell, nor am I much
concern'd to know, since beyond all my expectations, I find him
perfectly easy at it, and ready to excuse my fault with better reasons
than I can find to do it myself.
_Lop._ Say you so?----I am very glad to hear that, then all's safe.
[_Aside._
_Lor._ 'Tis unexpected good fortune; but it could never proceed purely
from his own temper, there must have been pains taken with him to bring
him to this calm; I'm sure I owe much to the bounty of some friend or
other; I wish I knew where my obligation lay, that I might acknowledge
it as I ought.
_Lop._ Are you thereabout's, I'faith? Then sharp's the word; I'gad I'll
own the thing, and receive his bounty for't. [_Aside._] Why, Sir----not
that I pretend to make a merit o'the matter, for alas, I am but your
poor hireling, and therefore bound in duty to render you all the
service I can----But----'tis I have don't.
_Lor._ What hast thou done?
_Lop._ What no man else could have done; the job, Sir, told him the
secret, and then talk'd him into a liking on't.
_Lor._ 'Tis impossible; thou dost not tell me true.
_Lop._ Sir, I scorn to reap any thing from another man's labours, but
if this poor piece of service carries any merit with it, you now know
where to reward it.
_Lor._ Thou art not serious!
_Lop._ I am; or may hunger be my mess-mate.
_Lor._ And may famine be mine, if I don't reward thee for't, as thou
deserv'st----Dead.
[_Making a pass at him._
_Lop._ Have a care there [_Leaping on one side._] What do you mean,
Sir? I bar all surprise.
_Lor._ Traitor, is this the fruit of the trust I plac'd in thee,
villain?
[_Making another thrust at him._
_Lop._ Take heed, Sir; you'll do one a mischief before you're aware.
_Lop._ What recompence can'st thou make me, wretch, for this piece of
treachery? Thy sordid blood can't expiate the thousandth----But I'll
have it however.
[_Thrusts again._
_Lop._ Look you there again: pray, Sir, be quiet; is the devil in you?
'Tis bad jesting with edg'd tools. I'gad that last push was within
an inch o' me. I don't know what you make all this bustle about, but
I'm sure I've done all for the best, and I believe it will prove for
the best too at last, if you'll have but a little patience. But if
gentlemen will be in their airs in a moment--Why, what the deuce----I'm
sure I have been as eloquent as _Cicero_, in your behalf; and I don't
doubt to good purpose too, if you'll give things time to work. But
nothing but foul language, and naked swords about the house, sa, sa;
run you through you dog; why, nobody can do business at this rate.
_Lor._ And suppose your project fails, and I'm ruin'd by it, Sir.
_Lop._ Why, 'twill be time enough to kill me then, Sir? won't it? What
should you do it for now? Besides, I an't ready, I'm not prepar'd, I
might be undone by't.
_Lor._ But what will _Leonora_ say to her marriage being known, wretch?
_Lop._ Why may be she'll draw----her sword too. [_Shewing his tongue._]
But all shall be well with you both, if you will but let me alone.
_Lor._ Peace; here's her father.
_Lop._ That's well: we shall see how things go presently.
_Enter Don ~Alvarez~._
_Alv._ The more I recover from the disorder this discourse has put me
in, the more strange the whole adventure appears to me. _Leonora_
maintains there is not a word of truth in what I have heard; that she
knows nothing of marriage: and indeed she tells me this, with such a
naked air of sincerity, that for my part I believe her. What then must
be their project? Some villainous intention, to be sure; tho' which
way, I yet am ignorant. But here's the bridegroom; I'll accost him----I
am told, Sir, you take upon you to scandalize my daughter, and tell
idle tales of what can never happen.
_L
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