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JOSEPH HARRIS
_The City Bride_
(1696)
With an Introduction by
Vinton A. Dearing
Publication Number 36
Los Angeles
William Andrews Clark Memorial Library
University of California
1952
GENERAL EDITORS
H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_
RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_
ROBERT S. KINSMAN, _University of California, Los Angeles_
JOHN LOFTIS, _University of California, Los Angeles_
ASSISTANT EDITOR
W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_
ADVISORY EDITORS
EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_
BENJAMIN BOYCE, _Duke University_
LOUIS BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_
JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_
ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_
EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_
LOUIS A. LANDA, _Princeton University_
SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_
ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_
JAMES SUTHERLAND, _University College, London_
H. T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_
CORRESPONDING SECRETARY
EDNA C. DAVIS, _Clark Memorial Library_
INTRODUCTION
_The City Bride_, by Joseph Harris, is of special interest as the only
adaptation from the canon of John Webster to have come upon the stage in
the Restoration. Nahum Tate's _Injur'd Love: or, The Cruel Husband_ is
an adaptation of _The White Devil_, but it was never acted and was not
printed until 1707. _The City Bride_ is taken from _A Cure for a
Cuckold_, in which William Rowley and perhaps Thomas Heywood
collaborated with Webster. F. L. Lucas, Webster's most recent and most
scholarly editor, remarks that _A Cure for a Cuckold_ is one of the
better specimens of Post-Elizabethan romantic comedy. In particular, the
character of the bride, Annabel (Arabella in Harris's adaptation), has a
universal appeal. _The City Bride_, a very close copy of its original,
retains its virtues, and has some additional virtues of its own.
Not much is known of its author, Joseph Harris. Genest first notices him
as playing Bourcher, the companion of a French pirate, in _A
Common-Wealth of Women_. Thomas Durfey's alteration of _The Sea Voyage_
from the Beaumont and Fletcher folio, which was produced about September
1685. His subsequent roles were of a similar calibre, but if he never
rose to be a star he seems to have become a valued supporting player,
for in 1692 he was chosen to join the royal "comedians in ordinary." He
did not at first side with Thomas Betterton in his quarrel with the
patentees of the theatre in 1694-5, but he withdrew with him to
Lincoln's Inn Fields. Genest notices him for the last time as playing
Sir Richard Vernon in Betterton's adaptation of _1 Henry IV_, which was
produced about April 1700.
During his career on the stage Harris found time to compose a
tragi-comedy, _The Mistakes, or, The False Report_ (1691), produced in
December 1690; _The City Bride_, produced in 1696; and a comedy and a
masque, _Love's a Lottery, and a Woman the Prize. With a New Masque,
call'd Love and Riches Reconcil'd_ (1699), produced about March 1698/9.
_The Mistakes_ is clearly apprentice work, for Harris acknowledges in a
preface the considerable help of William Mountfort, who took the part of
the villain, Ricardo. Mountfort, who had already written three plays
himself, cut one of the scenes intended for the fifth act and inserted
one of his own composition (probably the last) which not only clarified
the plot but also elevated the character of the part he was to play. The
company seems to have done its best by the budding dramatist, for Dryden
wrote the prologue, a rather unusual one in prose and verse, and Tate
supplied the epilogue. Harris professed himself satisfied with the
play's reception, but owned that it was Mountfort's acting which really
carried it off.
_The City Bride_, on the other hand, shows its author completely
self-assured, and rightly so. No doubt some of his ease comes from the
fact that he had nothing to invent, but in large part it must derive
from his ten-years' experience on the stage. Harris added nothing to the
plot of _The City Bride_, although he commendably shifted its emphasis,
as his title makes clear, from infidelity to fidelity; but he rewrote
the dialogue almost completely, and the new dialogue is remarkable good.
The reader will notice that it is, except for the last half of the first
act, printed as prose. The quarto of _A Cure for a Cuckold_, from which
Harris worked, is also largely printed as prose, but has correct verse
lineation in the same portion of the first act. It is the more
remarkable that Harris, following thus closely the apparent form of his
original, could vary from it so successfully. Most notable, probably,
are the passages in which he intensified the expression of his source.
They may indicate no more than the eternal "ham" in our author; but I
think they probably indicate as well a new style of acting, more
rhetorical in one way, more natural in another. A good example, in which
the new rhetoric is not oppressive, is the account of the sea fight at
the end of Act III. Even when Harris followed his original most closely,
we seem to hear the actor, speaking in a new tongue, in a more relaxed
and colloquial rhythm. The reader will find it both amusing and
instructive to compare the two versions of Act II, scene ii. The new
cadences do more than merely prove that Harris had no ear for blank
verse.
_The City Bride_ does not conform to the dominant type of Restoration
comedy, but it belongs to a thriving tradition. Domestic comedy, in
adaptations from the Elizabethans, had been staged at intervals for
twenty years before _The City Bride_ appeared, and the type was of
course destined to supplant gay comedy in the near future. Harris was
not, therefore, going against the taste of the town; on the contrary he
was regularly guided by contemporary taste and practice. His stage is
less crowded: he amalgamated the four gallants of _A Cure for a Cuckold_
in the person of Mr. Spruce, at the expense of a dramatic scene (I, ii,
31-125); and he ended the sub-plot with the fourth act instead of
bringing its persons into the final scene, with some loss of liveliness
and a concomitant gain in unity of effect. He modernized his dialogue
entirely, bringing up to date the usage and allusions of his original,
and restraining the richness of its metaphor by removing the figures
altogether or by substituting others more familiar. He omitted a good
deal of bawdry, especially in Act II, scene ii. All these changes have
parallels in other Restoration adaptations. Again, the songs and dances,
which are all of Harris's composition, reflect the demand of the
Restoration audience for excitement, variety, novelty, in their dramatic
fare. When in Act III, scene i, Harris meets this demand by making
Bonvile bare his breast to Friendly's sword, and Friendly a little later
grovel at Bonvile's feet for pardon, we may condemn the new business as
bathetic; but when in Act IV, scene i, he substitutes for Webster's
emaciated jokes the bustle of drawers, the sound of the bar bell, and
healths all around, we can only applaud the change.
We must also commend Harris for supplying a consistent and relatively
believable motivation for the main action. In both _A Cure for a
Cuckold_ and _The City Bride_, Clare (Clara) begins the action by giving
her suitor, Lessingham (Friendly), a cryptic message: he is to determine
who his best friend is and kill him. In _A Cure for a Cuckold_, it is
never made clear whether the victim should have been Bonvile or Clare
herself (she apparently intended to trick Lessingham into poisoning
her). This uncertainty has only recently been noticed by students of the
drama, who have been forced to emend the text at IV, ii, 165 (see
Lucas's note on the passage). Harris's solution is simpler. He will have
nothing to do with either murder or suicide. Clara explains to Friendly
that the best friend of a lover is love itself.
This is not the place to enumerate all the differences between _A Cure
for a Cuckold_ and _The City Bride_; indeed the reader may prefer making
the comparisons for himself. Harris's alterations follow the general
pattern of Restoration adaptations from the earlier drama, it is true.
On the other hand, a relatively small number of such plays allow us to
see the professional actor feeling his way through the emotions and
actions of the scenes. To compare a play like _The City Bride_ with its
source is like visiting the rehearsals of an acting company of the time.
Such a play has an immediacy and liveness that strongly appeals to those
who delight to image forth the past.
_The City Bride_ has never been reprinted. The present edition
reproduces, with permission, the copy in the Henry E. Huntington
Library, omitting Harris's signed dedication to Sir John Walter, Bart.,
on A2^r-A3^r (A1^v in the original is blank). The top line on page 44,
which is partly cut away, reads: _Cla._ Who (if thou ever lov'dst me ...
Vinton A. Dearing
University of California
Los Angeles
THE CITY BRIDE:
OR,
The Merry Cuckold.
A COMEDY,
Acted at the New Theatre, in _Little
Lincolns Inn-Fields._
BY
His Majesty's Servants.
_First Edition._
_Spero Meliora._
LONDON:
Printed for _A. Roper_ and _E. Wilkinson_ at the _Black-Boy_, and R.
_Clavel_ at the _Peacock_, in _Fleet-street_. 1696.
PROLOGUE:
_Spoke by Mr._ THURMOND.
_Three Ways there are, and all accounted fair,
To gain your Favour: Begging, Borrowing, Prayer.
If as a Beggar, I your Alms implore }
Methinks your Charity shou'd aid the Poor; }
Besides, I never beg'd of you before. }
If I address by Prayer, and loud Complaints
I then oblige yee, for I make you Saints;
And sure none here can think it Superstition,
To pray to Saints that are of no Religion!
If Invocation will not do my Work,
A Man may borrow of a_ Jew _or_ Turk;
_Pray lend me Gentlemen your Applause and Praise,
I'll take it for as good as Currant Bays;
And if I ne're repay it, 'tis no more,
Than many of you Sparks have done before:
With this distinction, that you ran indebt
For want of Money, we for want of Wit.
In vain I plead! a Man as soon may get
Mill'd Silver, as one favour from the Pit.
----Hold then----now I think on't,
I'll e'en turn Thief, and steal your kind Affection,
And when I've got your Hearts, claim your protection:
You can't convict me sure for such a crime,
Since neither Mare nor Lap-dog, I purloin:
While you Rob Ladies Bosoms every day, }
And filch their pretious Maiden-heads away; }
I'll plead good nature for this Brat the Play: }
A Play that plagues no more the thread-bare Theme
Of powder'd Beaux, or tricks o'th' Godly Dame,
But in your humours let's ye all alone,
And not so much as Fools themselves runs down.
Our Author try'd his best, and Wisemen tell,
'Tis half well doing to endeavour well:
What tho' his poor Allay runs not so fine;
Yet, let it pass as does our present Coin;
For wanting fairer Ore, and riches mould
He stamps in Brass, what others print in Gold:
Smile on him but this time, the next perhaps,
If he guess right he may deserve your Claps._
Dramatis Personae.
|Bonvile, _The Bridegroom_. |_Mr._ Boman. |
|Friendly, _His Friend, in Love with_ Clara. |_Mr._ Thurmond. |
|Justice Merryman, _Father to_ Arabella. |_Mr._ Bright. |
|Summerfield, _A Gentleman, but Younger Brother, | |
| necessitated to take the High-Way_. |_Mr._ Scudemore.|
|_Mr._ Ventre, _A Merchant._ |_Mr._ Arnold. |
|_Mr._ Spruce, _A City Beau._ |_Mr._ Bayly. |
|Compasse, _A Master of a Vessel._ |_Mr._ Freeman. |
|A Councellor. |_Mr._ Davis. |
|Pettifog, } |_Mr._ Trefusis. |
| } _Two Attorneys._ | |
|Dodge, } |_Mr._ Eldred. |
| | |
|_Sailers, Neighbours, Drawers, Servants, Boys, | |
| Singers and Dancers._ | |
| | |
|Arabella, _The Bride_. |_Mrs._ Boman. |
|Clara, _Friendly's Mistriss, but secretly in Love | |
| with_ Bonvile. |_Mrs._ Boutell. |
|_Mrs._ Ventre, _The Merchant's Wife_. |_Mrs._ Lacy. |
|Peg, _Compasses Wife_. |_Mrs._ Perin. |
|Nurse. |_Mrs._ Lawson. |
|Lucy, Clara's _Maid_. |_Miss_ Prince. |
| | |
|_Women Neighbours._ | |
SCENE _London_.
THE CITY BRIDE:
OR, THE
Merry Cuckold.
ACT I. SCENE the I.
_The Curtain draws up, and discovers several sitting at a Banquet.
An Entertainment of Instrumental Musick, Compos'd by Signior_
Finger: _Then a Song, set by Mr._ John Eccles, _and Sung by Young_
La Roche.
SONG.
_Many I've lik'd, and some Enjoy'd,
But if I said I Lov'd, I ly'd.
Inconstant as the wandring Bee,
From once touch'd Sweets I us'd to flee;
Nor all the Power of Female Skill,
Cou'd curb the freedom of my Will:_
Clarinda _only found the Art,
To Conquer and so keep my Heart._
[_After this a Dance, and then the Scene shuts._
Enter_ Friendly _and_ Clara.
_Friend._ This is a Day of Mirth and Jollity my _Clara_.
_Clara._ 'Tis so, for such as can be merry, Mr. _Friendly_.
_Friend._ Why not for us my Love, we have a Noble President, and
methinks shou'd Imitate (thro Envy) this their happiness.
_Clara._ I am not of your Opinion.
_Friend._ Why not my Fair?
_Clara._ I'll tell you, because I purpose not to Marry.
_Fri._ Prithee be serious, and reform that Thought: Think of my past
Service, and judge by that my future; weigh all the respect I have paid
you long, and ever lov'd you beyond my self.
_Cla._ I know your Weakness, and will reward it too.
_Fri._ I am sure you will, you must be kind; And can you think an Answer
of this killing Nature, a just return for all my faithful Love?
_Cla._ As to that I have already said.
_Fri._ Oh speak, from whence this Coldness doth arise! Be at least so
kind as to tell me that; Is it some late Disgust you have conceived of
my Person; or rather your desire, (I fear) of some unworthier, happy
Creature, base in the Attempt, as you unkind in thinking of a Change; if
neither.
_I must impute it to your Woman's Will,
Still pleased with what it fancies, Good or Ill._
_Cla._ Be't what it will, thus it is, and with this Answer pray rest
satisfied; there is but one way ever to win me and draw me unto
Marriage, which whosoever finds, 'tis like he may have me, if not, I am
still my own.
_Fri._ Oh name it then! Thou dearest Treasure of my Life! my Soul! my
All! I am in a maze of Extasie, to think there's any means to gain you,
and hope you'l be so kind to tell me how I may be happy.
_Cla._ I'll retire a while; and with my self resolve what must be done,
and in the end send you my Resolution.
[_Exit_ Clara.
_Fri._ I'll here expect it: What more can I desire, than now be
satisfied and know my Dooom.
_Suspence is the worst Torment we endure,
'Tis Knowledge make the Wound both safe and sure._
_Enter_ Spruce _and_ _Mr._ Venter.
_Spru._ How now _Jack_! What all alone Man?
_Fri._ No, for I have heard some say, Men are ne're less alone, then
when alone. The reason I suppose is this, because they have Crowds of
Thoughts, that still perplex the Mind; which wou'd be, like the Soul
retired and free, thereby to enjoy that sweet repose, which nought but
that can Grant.
_Spru._ Pshaw! Pox of this Morality and dull Stuff; Prithee let us be
Merry, and Entertain the Bride and Bridegroom. Ods fish there a parcel
of rare Creatures within! But of all Mrs. _Clara_ for my Money.
_Mr. Ven._ And truly, I am of your Opinion Mr. _Spruce_; for setting
aside her present Melancholly and Discontent, I think she is beyond
Comparison with any other.
_Spr._ Od's nigs, I know the Cause of her Disorder.
_Ven._ What I pray?
_Spr._ Why, I'll tell ye; In all Conditions of Estates, Professions, and
Degrees, in Arts or Sciences, yee know there's a kind of Envious
Emulation.
_Mr. Ven._ Right.
_Spr._ So in this of _Arabella_'s Marrying; for _Clara_ being Lady of
much the same Birth and Quality, Grieves I--suppose to see her Rival get
the start of her.
_Mr. Ven._ Troth like enough.
_Fri._ Y'are Pleasant Gentlemen--Or else because she having had so many
Courtiers----
_Spr._ And you among the rest _Jack_.
_Fri._ She now perhaps does cast a more favourable Eye upon some one
that does not like her.
_Spr._ Why Faith, and that may be too.
_Enter_ Lucy _with a Letter._
_Lucy._ Sir, my Mistriss presents her humble Service to you, and has
sent you this Letter; pray Heaven it be to your liking Sir.
_Fri._ I thank the kind _Lucy_: There, there's for the Postage Girle:
[_Gives her Money._] She has kept her Promise for once I see; I'm
resolved to read it, tho I were sure my Death was Comprehended in it.
Reads. _Try all your Friends, and find out the best and nearest to
your Heart, That done, be sure to kill him for my sake. This fail
not to do, if you respect and Love (as you pretend.)_
Clara.
'Tis as I fear'd, and what I know she most desires: Mischief, and
Murder, are all her Sexes Practice, and Delight? Yet such is the
Extravagancy of my Passion, I must obey the Mandate, tho to my certain
Ruine: 'Tis strangely difficult, and does require Mature Deliberation.
[_Exit._
_Spr._ What has _Friendly_ left us?
_Mr. Ven._ I believe the Letter was the occasion, it may be it was a
Challenge.
_Spr._ A Challenge! No, no; Women don't use to bring Challenges, I
rather believe 'tis an Amour; And that Letter as you call it a _Billet
Deux_, which is to Conduct him to the place appointed; and in some Sence
you may take that for a Challenge.
_Mr. Ven._ And she the Civil Embassadress to usher him in.
_Spr._ Yes, yes, but see the Bride and Bridegroom, with the rest of the
good Company.
_Enter Justice_ Merry-man, Bonvile, Arabella, _Mrs._ Venter _and others,
as Guests Invited to the Wedding._
_Mer._ Son _Bonvile_, what call ye the Gentleman we met at the Garden
Door?
_Bon._ _Friendly_ Sir, a most approv'd and worthy Gentleman, and one of
my chiefest Guests.
_Mer._ Ay, ay, it may be so: But yet me thought he seemed somewhat
displeased, tho Son, Hah, What think you?
_Bon._ No sure Sir, he cannot be Angry, when his Friend's so happy.
_Mer._ I can't tell Boy, but I believe there's something more than
ordinary in the matter. Why should he leave the Company else? And Mrs.
_Clara_ I miss her too. Why Gentlemen, why do you suffer this?
_Ara._ Unknown to any Sir, she withdrew soon as we rise from Table.
_Mer._ Sick of the Maid perhaps; because she sees you Mrs. Bride her
Quondam Play fellow Married before her; Heh Gentlemen, heh!
_Mr. Ven._ 'Troth like enough Brother _Merry-man_.
_Mer._ Go, go, find her out for shame Gentlemen; and do not stand idle
thus, Od's bobs, when I was a Young fellow and invited to a Wedding, I
used to frisk and Jump, and so bestir my self, that I made all the
_Green-sickness_ Girles in the Room blush like Rubies. Ah, hah! I was a
brisk Fellow in those Days, I'faith, and used to Cut Capers a Yard high:
Nor am I yet so Old, but I can take a round or two still--Come, come
Gentlemen, lets in again and firk it away, shall we not?
_Spr._ With all my Heart Mr. Justice.
_Mer._ Why that's well said Mr. _Spruce_, Ods bobs it was, and I thank
you heartily.
_Spr._ Come Madam, you must along with us, without you all's nothing.
_Arab._ I'll wait on you Gentlemen; if you will give me leave Sir.
[_To_ Bonvile.
_Bon._ Oh my best Joy! This Day you may Command.
_Mer._ That's right, that's right I'faith Gentlemen! This Day she
Commands, and he for ever after. Ods bobs I have done so my self, and
hope I shall do so still. Sister _Venter_, May I presume to ask if my
Brother can say as much?
[_Exit_ Bonvile, Arab. Spruce, _and the rest of the Guests._]
_Mrs. Vent._ Yes Brother, I think he may, I freely Give him leave.
_Mer._ Observe that Brother, she freely gives you leave: But who Gives
leave the Master or the Servant?
_Mr. Ven._ You are Merry Brother, and truly you have reason, having but
one Daughter and see her Married as you would have her.
_Mer._ Yes, I have one thank Heaven! You wou'd be glad Sister you cou'd
say so, but your Barrenness does give your Husband leave (if he please)
to look for Game elsewhere.
_Mrs. Ven._ Well, well Sir, tho you jeer me, and make a scorn of my
Sterility--
_Mer._ No, no, not I Sister, I scorn not your Sterility, nor your
Husbands Virility neither.
_Mrs. Ven._ My Husband's Virility! Pray spare my Husband; for he has not
been so idle as you imagin; He may have an--Offspring abroad for ought
you know, that you never heard of.
_Mr. Ven._ Oh fye Wife, You will not make it publick will you?
_Mrs. Ven._ And yet he keeps himself within compass for all that.
_Mr. Ven._ If you love me _Winny_--
_Mrs. Ven._ Na, I say no more, but thereby hangs a Tale.
_Mer._ Say'st thou so old Girle? What and has he been stragling then?
Nay; nay I know he is a Ventersome Man; And a--Merchant of small Wares
sometimes, especially when he can get a good Commodity: I love him the
better for't I'faith, Ods bobs I do--A notable spark with a Young Wench
in a corner, Is he not? A true Chip of the old block, his Father I
warrant him--But Sister, I have something to say to you in private,
concerning my Daughter.
_Enter Nurse._
_Nurse._ By your leave Good Folks, Is Master _Venter_ the Merchant here
I pray?
_Mr. Ven._ Oh Nurse! I am glad to see thee, How does my Boy?
_Nurse._ Very well, I thank Heaven Sir! He grows bravely I assure you.
'Tis a Chopping lad I promise you, and as like your good Worship; As if
he had been spit out of your Mouth.
_Mr. Ven._ Softly, Nurse softly.
_Nurse._ I protest 'tis one of the forward'st Infants in the Universe;
Lord! how it will Crow, and Chirup like a Sparrow! I am afraid Sir he is
about Teeth, for he Dribbles extreamly, if so, Your Worship must provide
him a Silver Corral with a Whistle and Chain.
_Mr. Ven._ Well, well, he shall have everything Nurse, my Wife shall
send them to ye; in the mean time, there, there's a Piece, to buy thee a
Pair of Gloves, and so leave us, for I am busie at present, therefore
steal away behind me, and slip out at the back Door.
_Nurse._ Yes Sir, I am gone, Heavens bless your Worship, a Piece! Marry!
and that's a sufficient Charm to lye up any Nurses Tongue in
_Christendom_.
[_Ex. Nurse_
_Just. Mer._ Well well, it shall be done: Come Brother we are mist I
warrant you amongst the Young Fry, let's to 'um and, Dance till our Legs
ake again, come I'll lead the way.
_Mr. Ven._ We follow you.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Friendly _Reading the Letter._
_Fr._ Heaven in its excess of Goodness, bestow'd no greater Blessing on
Mankind than that of Friendship--To Murder any one is a Crime
unpardonable! _But a Friend!--And of all Friends the nearest to my
Heart_,--'Tis such an Imposition that Hell it self 'till now cou'd never
parallel; And yet this Devil of a Woman has power over me beyond all
Virtue. I am distracted in my Thoughts, and know not what to do; yet
something must be done without delay, or else I lose her quite: And yet
I fear 'tis most Impossible, for Friendship left the World, when Justice
fled, and all who now do wear that Name are the worst of Hypocrites,
_Like Counterfeited Coin on which is seen,
The formal Stamp; but sordid Dross within._
_Enter_ Bonivile.
_Bon._ My Friend alone and Thoughtful? say for what?
That you alone appear with Discontent,
When all my Friends Congratulate my Bliss?
Is it because (which I durst ne're suspect)
Your Love to me was not intirely true?
Or else perhaps, this Crown of Happiness
You think Misplac'd, and Envy it not yours.
_Fri._ Forbear such cruel Words--
How can you entertain a Thought so Vile
Of him whom so long you have call'd your Friend?
May all the Blesings Heaven can bestow
On us poor Mortals in this World below,
Crown all your Days, and may you nothing see
But flowing Tides of sweet Felicity;
But I, alas!--
_Bon._ Alas! What means my _Friendly_?
Much hidden Grief that wretched Word portends,
Which thus disturbs the Quiet of my Friend?
But come disclose it to me,
And since the Burthen is too much for one,
I'll bear a part to ease thy troubled Breast.
_Fri._ Oh _Bonvile_!
Seek not to force this Fatal secret from me--
_Bon._ I must know it, by my best hopes I must.
_Fri._ Oh no! I cannot, Nay I dare not--
_Bon._ How dare not trust a secret to a Friend?
_Fri._ Oh _Bonville_, _Bonville_! Call me not your Friend,
That Name strikes horrour to my very Soul.
_Bon._ Ha! Art thou then a Stranger to that Name?
_Fri._ Indeed I am, and must be so for ever now.
_Bon._ Yet hear me _Friendly_; Deny me if thou can'st,
Fixt as a Rock, I vow I'll here remain,
Until I have forc'd this Dire secret from thee.
_Fri._ Pardon me Sir, I hope you soon will hear it,
But I----
[_Offers to go._]
_Bon._ Yet stay, and since intreaty can't prevail,
By all the Friendship which you once profess'd,
By all that's Holy, both in Heaven and Earth,
I now Conjure thee to impart it to me,
Or by this Life----
_Fri._ Hold, hold, and since I can no longer hide it
Know 'tis my Honour then which lyes at Stake.
_Bon._ Thy Honour! How? Proceed.
_Fri._ By chance a Quarrel happen'd to arise
Betwixt another and my self, The Field,
Time, Place, and all appointed,
Nay Seconds must assist us in the Deed:
I have relied on many seeming Friends,
(Such as profess the bare and empty Name)
And all refuse to venture in my Cause.
_Bon._ Is this all?
_Fri_ All, Is it not enough? To see my Reputation,
(the Lifes Blood of my Soul)
Nay all that's Dear, in Danger to be lost.
_Bon._ Not while thy _Bonvile_ lives and wears a Sword:
May all things frown that I wou'd have to smile,
May I live Poor, and Dye despised by all,
If I out live the ruine of thy Honour!
Tell me the time my Friend?
_Fri._ Oh, spare me that, for, if once known the time,
You'l Cancel this your promise, and recall
Your Friendly proffer.
_Bon._ Away with these Excuses, come the time.
_Fri._ At Seven this Evening.
_Bon._ The place?
_Fri._ _Barn-Elms_:
Oh the fatal place! Where I too well foresee,
The certain fall and Ruine of my Honour!
_Bon._ No, Thou shalt not stay to forfeit thy lov'd Honour,
Come I'm ready to assist my Friend; and will along with you.
_Fri._ Alas. What mean you?
Of all my Friends on you I ne're Relied;
But sure I Dream, I Rave, by Heav'ns I'm Mad!
My _Bonvile_ leave his Wife? And on his Wedding Day?
His Bride whom he perhaps may ne're Enjoy?
And all for me? O most unhappy Man!
_Bon._ Pleasure before my Friend I'll ne're prefer,
Nor is it lost, tho for a while, delay'd.
_Fri._ Are you then resolv'd to go?
_Bon._ I am as fixt in my Resolve as is the _Libertin_ in vice,
Which Death alone can part.
_Fri._ Yet stay, and think what it is you undertake,
Recall this Rash and suddain Resolution,
Least you repent, alas when it is too late.
_Bon._ This were enough to shake a weaker Soul,
But mine it moves not; like to a Mighty Oake,
I'm plac'd above the Storms of Fear or Doubt.
_Enter_ Arabella.
_Fri._ Sir, no more, the Bride,
_Ara._ Oh, Heavens defend me!
_Bon._ What ailes my Dearest Life?
_Ara._ I've lost the Key of this Chain I wear about my Neck
And of these Bracelets, Oh! Unhappy Omen!
_Bon._ No, no, my Love; I found it as it lay at Random in your Chamber,
and fearing it might be forgot, or lost, have laid it by; 'Tis safe my
Love.
_Ara._ Indeed I'me very glad you've found it, but yet----
[sighs.
_Bon._ Yet, What my Dear? from whence proceeds that sigh?
_Ara._ Alas, I know not!
Some busie Genius Whispers to my Soul,
The loss of this upon my Wedding Day
Portend's a greater e're the Day be past.
_Bon._ Banish such Fears, let's in and see our Friends.
_Ara._ Indeed they all expect you; come I'll lead the way.
_Bon._ I'll go with you. _Barn-Elms_ you say?
[_Aside to_ Friendly.
_Fri._ Yes that's the place, at Seven precisely;
_Bon._ I'll meet you on the _Exchange_, and go together;
If you are there before me, Take a turn or two.
[_Exit_ Bonvile, _and_ Arabella.
_Fri._ Oh my Dear _Bonvile_! Art thou then the Man?
The only, only Man that I can call Friend,
And only Friend that I am bound to Kill?
A Friend, that for my sake wou'd stake his Life,
Leave a Chast Bride and untouch'd Nuptial Bed
For me base Man, nay worse than Savage Beast:
The generous Lyon, never kills his kind
They say, altho provoked to utmost rage;
Yet I vile Monster, more ungrateful Man,
Thus unprovoked, must kill my Brother Creature,
And which is worse, my Dear and only Friend!
All for the pleasure of a Foolish Woman.
_O cruel Woman thus to Command
A Task so hard, Yet what I can't withstand!
Oh! thou rare Copy of the Original,
By which free Man at first received his fall;
For she not only wou'd her self undo,
And all her Sex, but Damn all Mankind too._
[_Exit._
_The End of the First Act._
ACT the Second.
SCENE the First.
_The Fields._
_Enter_ Summerfield _solus._
_Sum._ A Younger Brother! 'Tis a poor Title, and very hard to bear with:
The Elder Fool inherits all the Land, whilst we are forc'd to follow
_Legacies of Wit, and get 'um when we can_. Why shou'd the Law, by which
we are deprived of equal Portion with the First-begotten, not bind our
Fathers to cease from Procreation, and so as well deprive us of a
wretched Being, as of the Thing we cannot be without: No, no, our
Mothers ne're will consent to that, they love to groan and squall, tho
at the same time the Gallows eccho's to their Groans, and both together
labour for us. From the first we travel forth--to'thers our Journey's
End. _All this I know, yet I must forward_: To beg, my Birth will ne're
consent to; and _borrowing is quite out of date_--Yet starve I cannot,
_nor murder I wou'd not_: It must be the Highway then, the old Trade we
poor honest Rogues are forc'd too--This Place will serve for a Beginner
well enough--A Beginner did I say? Yes; for this is the very first day I
open Shop--Fortune, they say, uses to help the Bold, I hope she will be
kind to me. Ha! who have we here? A Gentlewoman well rigg'd, and only a
Servant with her, She may be a Prize worth the boarding, and faith I'll
venture hard but I'll carry her.
[_He retires to a corner of the Stage._
_Enter_ Arabella _in great disorder, looking about her, with_ Symon _her
Servant._
_Arab._ This way, say'st thou _Symon_, with _Friendly_?
_Sym._ Yes forsooth Mistress, with Mr. _Friendly_.
_Arab._ Alas! I'm tired and cannot travel further; my Heart is full of
Fear, and yet I know not why, nor can I tell why he should use me
thus,--It is not common sure for Men to leave their Brides upon the
Wedding-day: And yet I cannot tell but it may be so! O wretched State of
Marriage, and of Love, if this be Love! Here will I lie me down, and
rest a while [_Lies down._] my wearied Limbs, unused to these sad
Frights and Fears--But prethee do thou run after him, and if it be
possible o'retake him too: Tell him the strange Disorder thou dost leave
me in; and let him know my Father's Anger, his Friends Concern, and what
is more, his _Arabella_'s sad Complaint; tell him, I grieve, I faint, I
die; tell him any thing that may stay him.
_Sym._ Yes Forsooth.
_Arab._ Intreat him to return; nay, urge him all thou canst to make him
come again: Nay haste, good _Symon_, fly if thou canst, for I can stir
no further.
_Sym._ Well, well, Forsooth, I am gone.
[_Exit_ Symon.
_Arab._ Alas, how wretched and forlorn am I!
_I she whom once so many did admire,
Whose Wit and Charms the coldest Hearts cou'd fire!
Now wretched Maid, and most unhappy Wife,
In Sighs and in Complaints must end my Life.
Abandoned by my Husband, e're enjoyed,
With thoughts of Pleasure, yet untasted, cloy'd.
He leaves me now to my sad Frights a Prey;
O, my dear_ Bonvile! _whither dost thou stray?
Unheard, alas! I make my amarous Moans;
The Winds and Waves refuse to bear my Groans:
Eccho her self can't suffer my Complaint,
But with repeated Sighs grows tir'd and faint.
Where to find him, good Heaven direct me!
For losing him, I more than lose my self._
[_Rises, and_ Exit.
_Sum._ I must after her, she's worth my Acquaintance, and has good
Moveables about her I perceive, what e're the Ready is. The next Turning
has a most convenient Hollow for the Purpose, and there I'll make her
sure. Now Luck, or never.
[_Exit after_ Arabella.
_Reenter_ Arabella, _and_ Summerfield _after her._
_Ara._ I'm at a stand already, and know not where I am.
_Sum._ I'll direct you, Madam; Well overtaken.
_Ara._ Bless me, Sir; What are you?
_Sum._ A Man.
_Ara._ An honest Man, I hope?
_Sum._ Yes faith in some Respects, I'm very honest, but not altogether
so; I were not fit to live in the World if I were too honest, Child.
_Ara._ Alas! then I begin to fear: Pray tell me what you are?
_Sum._ Why, faith, an honest Thief.
_Ara._ How, honest, and yet a Thief? I never heard they were of Kin
before; Pray, Heaven, I find it now.
_Sum._ Indeed! a very honest Thief.
_Ara._ Well, Sir, since that's your Title, pray use me kindly: Nay, I'm
sure you will, there's something in your Looks which speaks you mild and
noble.
_Sum._ Yes, I am a Gentleman, and you shall find me so; for I'll not
offer you the least shew of Violence, or offer to corrupt your Chastity;
tho indeed you are tempting Fair, and might inflame a colder Heart than
mine: Yet Ravishing's no part of my Profession as yet; or if it were,
you look so charming Innocent, you wou'd disarm my wildest Thoughts.
_Ara._ Blessings on your Goodness!
_Sum._ Are you a Maid, or Wife?
_Ara._ I am both, Sir.
_Sum._ Then this it seems is your Wedding-day, and these the Hours of
Interim that keep you in that double State?
_Ara._ Indeed you are in the right.
_Sum._ Come then, I'll be brief, and hinder not your desired _Hymen_.
You have some superfluous Toys I see about you, which you must deliver;
I mean, that Chain of Gold and Pearl about your Neck, and those pretty
Bracelets about your Arms, (pray, Heaven, they prove not Emblems of the
combined Hemp which is to halter mine); come, Madam, pray deliver 'em.
_Ara._ Nay, I intreat you, Sir, to take 'em, for I cannot give 'em, they
are lock'd you see, and truly I have not the Key about me; it may be you
are furnish'd with Instruments that may unloose 'em, I pray do.
_Sum._ No faith, Madam, I'm but a Beginner in this same Business, and am
wholly unprovided of any Pick-lock Tools besides this Sword.
[_Draws his Sword._
_Ara._ O, good Sir, do not shew me that, 'tis too frightful; pray hurt
me not, for I do yield them freely: Use your Hands, perhaps their
strength will serve to tear 'em from me without more ado. Some Pain I'll
quietly endure, provide you do not hurt me much.
_Sum._ Alas, dear Lady, I'll use you as gently as I can upon my Word;
but 'tis devilish strong.--If I hurt you, pray speak.
[_He endeavours to break the Chain about her Neck._]
_Ara._ Not much, Sir.
_Sum._ I am glad on't,--S'death, I can't do it.
[_She draws his Sword, and stands upon her Guard._
_Ara._ No Sir, nor shall not now: You a Highway-man and guard your self
no better: Come, Sir, what Money have you? Deliver quickly.
_Sum._ Not a Cross by this foolish Hand of mine!
_Ara._ How, no Money, 'twere pity then to take this from thee; Here,
take it again, I know you'l use me ne're the worse for what I have done.
[_Gives him his Sword again._]
_Sum._ No, by my Life!
_Ara._ I do believe you; and now pray hear me--Here on my Knees, in
sight of Heaven, I make this solemn Protestation, That if you'l but
forbear the Rifling of this Chain and Bracelets, and go but with me
Home, by all the Vows which I this Day have plighted to my dearest
Husband, I will deliver you in Money the full Value of these I wear,
and cannot for my Life get off.
_Sum._ Ha! Ready-money is the Prize I look for; it passes without
suspicion every where, when Chains and Jewels are often stop'd and
call'd for before the Magistrate: But----
_Ara._ Nay never doubt! You saw I gave you my Advantage up, and
questioned not my safety at your hands, pray fear not yours in mine.
_Sum._ I know not what to do.
_Ara._ Pray tell me, Sir, did you ever think a Woman true?
_Sum._ I have heard of some, but very few.
_Ara._ Will you add one more to your belief?
_Sum._ I think I may, for they were fewer than the Articles of my Faith,
therefore I have room for you, and will believe you--Yet stay, you say
you'l ransom your jewels with Ready-money when you come Home; so you
may, and then discover me.
_Ara._ Shall I repeat the Vows I made?
_Sum._ No, for I'll trust you; and if you do betray me, then Mercy upon
me, and Farewel. I knew a Gentleman that had been a Courtier at
_Whitehall_ fifteen Years, and he was buried e're he took a Bride: 'Tis
very strange you'l say; and may be my Case in another way.
_Ara._ Come, Sir, never fear: A Man and afraid; Fie, fie!
_Sum._ Give me your Hand, I'll wait on you; and if you are (as I believe
you) True and Just, you are the World's Wonder! Come, Madam.
[_Exeunt._