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THE
WIDOW's VOW.
A
FARCE,
IN TWO ACTS,
AS IT IS ACTED
AT THE THEATRE ROYAL,
_HAY-MARKET_.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR C. G. J. AND J. ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER ROW.
1786.
PROLOGUE,
Written by Mr. HOLCROFT,
Spoken by Mr. BANNISTER, jun.
Prologues, with caustic touch, have often tried
To probe your spleen, prove knaves and fools allied;
Have twisted words and wit ten thousand ways,
To shew that these are most degenerate days!
A different task be ours.--We'll prove that you
Are wise and happy. Nay! tho' strange, 'tis true!
First on your _safety_ think! now belles appear
By ample bulwarks guarded, front and rear!
Now male and female amble, side by side,
Exempt from harm, by breast-works fortify'd!
Here polygons defend Miss Molly's breast!
There horn-works hush the husband's fears to rest
By ramparts, daily rais'd, he's freed from cares;
If he'll but grant sufficient for repairs.
Our strength thus prov'd, proceed we to disclose
How new-made wealth thro' new-made channels flows!
How rich we are, in medal-rust and rare things!
In copper coins, gilt pence and--Queen-Anne-farthings!
How shells, stuff'd monkies, and Cremonas old,
In hand of Auctioneer, are current gold!
He "Going! going!" cries. "The hammer's up!
"This fine antique! this Roman----_caudle-cup!_"
A gem so rare makes connoisseurs turn pale,
Fearful, alike, to purchase or to fail!
Hope trembles, starts, from lip to lip rebounds,
'Till down she's knock'd by--Ah!--one thousand pounds!
The envied purchaser, with joy elate,
Pays for his prize by--selling his estate!
While _Smirk_, in florid style, words nicely plac'd,
Protests theee lot does, _anner_ to his taste! (_Mimicking._)
Yes! sure you're happy! and should rest content,
Now landscapes are reduced fifteen per cent:
And Claude's and Titian's new-found wonders may
By new-made Peers be bought--if new-made Peers can pay.
(_Assuming sorrow._)
One thing, indeed, may well your peace invade,
Pawnbrokers! threaten you to leave off trade! (_Weeps._)
(_Returning to his former chearful tone._)
All things considered, now, while safety smiles,
And wealth inundates thus our Queen of isles;
While Vickery head defects so soon repairs,
And half unpeoples Greenland of her bears;
While exhibitions, galas and reviews,
Lisle-street, Vauxhall, the Abbey, Handel, Hughes,
Flutes, fiddles, trombos, double-drums, bassoons,
Mara, the speaking-figure, fish-balloons,
Earth-baths, live-eagles, such as never flew,
_L'Hercule du Roy!_ and General Jackoo!
While these create a round of such delight,
Sure, we may hope, you will not frown to-night!
While farces numerous as these go down,
Our farce may in its turn amuse the town;
And, smiling thus on Folly's vast career,
Sure not on us, alone, you'll be severe!
ADVERTISEMENT.
The WIDOW's VOW is indebted for the Plot of her Piece, and for the
Plot only, to _L'Hereuse Erreur_, a French Comedy of one Act, by M.
PATRAT, but to the Excellence of the English _Performers_ alone is
she indebted for its very flattering Success.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
Don Antonio, Mr. PARSONS.
Marquis, Mr. BANNISTER, jun.
Carlos, Mr. R. PALMER.
Servant, Mr. LYON.
Jerome, Mr. EDWIN.
Countess, Mrs. BATES.
Donna Isabella, Mrs. RILEY.
Inis, Miss BRANCIN.
Ursula, Mrs. EDWIN.
Flora, Mrs. WELLS.
_Scene a Village in Spain._
THE
WIDOW's VOW.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
_A Hall in a Castle._
_Enter_ JEROME _and_ FLORA.
FLORA. I Can't go at present, Mr. Jerome, for I expect my Lady every
moment to ring, and if I should be out of the way she will be angry; and
as I am but new in her service--
JEROME. She angry! Oh you don't know her yet--When you have been a day
or two with her you'll find she is never angry--She is the best tempered
creature--and were it not for her aversion to us men, she would not have
a fault.
FLORA. Do you consider that as a fault, Mr. Jerome?
JEROME. To be sure I do--For my part, I think she had much better be too
fond of us, as the rest of her sex are.
FLORA. Pray, Mr. Jerome, what caused her aversion to the men?
JEROME. I'll tell you, Flora, if it wo'nt make you melancholy.
FLORA. Oh, no, Mr. Jerome--I like a melancholy story--I like dearly to
cry, when it is not on my own account.
JEROME. Well then--When my Lady was only fifteen she fell deep in love
with a fine handsome young fellow, inferior to her both in rank and
fortune; but my good old Lord, her father, who doated upon her, was
afraid a disappointment might break her heart, and so consented to her
having him; but he proved so bad a husband that my poor old Master soon
died with grief.
FLORA. Poor man!
JEROME. Don't cry yet, there's something worse to come--My Lady, on
this, took such a dislike to her husband, that he died of grief too.
FLORA. Indeed, Mr. Jerome, this is very moving. (_cries._)
JEROME. On this--
FLORA. I hope there is nothing worse to come?
JEROME. On this, my Lady made a vow to shut herself up from the whole
sex.
FLORA. Well, that is more affecting than any of it.
JEROME. And she immediately retired to this lonely castle, where, except
the house of Donna Isabella next door, we have not a neighbour for
miles; and even there we are strangers--for my part I have never so much
as seen Donna Isabella, or exchanged a word with any of the servants
since they came to the place--though indeed they have not been here
above eight days.
FLORA. But how long has my Lady kept this vow of avoiding all your sex?
JEROME. Eighteen months.
FLORA. Eighteen weeks! what a time!
JEROME. Months.
FLORA. Months! she has certainly lost her senses.
JEROME. Not she.
FLORA. O but I am sure she must have lost some of them.
JEROME. I tell you no.--But I must leave you now, Mrs. Flora, for yonder
is Don Antonio, and I believe he is coming this way.
FLORA. I thought no man was admitted into the castle but you, Mr.
Jerome?
JEROME. Yes; Don Antonio lives here--but then he is my Lady's uncle; and
you know there can be no fear of her falling in love with him, as he is
a relation.
FLORA. But _you_ are no relation, Mr. Jerome.
JEROME. Why, as you say, she might fall in love with me--Stranger things
have happened--and to tell you the truth, she does not seem positive she
shan't, for she bids me keep out of her sight as much as possible, for
fear I should put her in mind of that handsome villain that brought her
to this retirement.
FLORA. Here comes the old Gentleman!
JEROME. Then I must go, for he'll be wanting to say something to you--he
is for ever running after all the maids--I am sorry to leave you--I am,
indeed, Flora; indeed I am--Oh it would be a happy thing for me if I
could bring myself to care as little for the women, as my Lady does for
the men. [_Exit Jerome._
FLORA. A fine sweetheart, truly, I have got--and if this old fright
proves another, I'll be even with him.
_Enter_ ANTONIO--_She courtesys_
ANTONIO. Hah!--what!--what is all this!--what have we here?--what have
we here?--a pretty girl--a very pretty girl indeed!--My niece's new
maid, I suppose--Aye, aye, I had the other sent about her business--She
must be like her mistress forsooth, and have nothing to say to a
man--(_going up to Flora_) My dear, come this way--I think your's is a
new face--
FLORA. Yes, Sir--and I think your's is an old one.
ANTONIO. Hem--hem.--Pray what is your name?
FLORA. A very good name--and I intend never to change it for a bad
one.--
ANTONIO. Look in my face--What do you blush for?
FLORA. For you.
ANTONIO. Come, come, no pertness--but let me bid you welcome to the
castle. (_offers to salute her._)
FLORA. No, indeed you shan't.
ANTONIO. I will bid you welcome to the castle. (_after a struggle he
salutes her._)
FLORA. Upon my word, Sir, you are very rude--How would you like I should
serve _you_ so?
ANTONIO. Do--Do--serve me so--you are very welcome.
_Enter_ JEROME.
JEROME. Flora, there's a young woman at the gate, who says she lives
with Donna Isabella, and wants to speak to you upon some particular
business--Can your Honor spare her with no inconvenience to yourself?
ANTONIO. Yes--Yes--she may go--(_Exit Flora and Jerome_) A young woman
at the gate, now do I want to bid _her_ welcome to the castle--a maid
of Donna Isabella, our neighbour--by the bye I must bring about an
acquaintance with Donna Isabella and the Countess my niece, if I can,
for I am told Isabella is a very beautiful lady--and I should like to
bid _her_ welcome to the castle--but, notwithstanding all the pains I
have taken, ever since she has arrived, to procure a sight of her, I
have not been able--I would, however, force myself into the house, but
it seems she has a young brother, the Marquis, come down on a visit
to her within these three days, and he might take upon him to resent
my gallantry--and I can't say I am fond of resentments, rage and
hatred--no, no, the _softer_ passions possess me wholly. [_Exit._