old Gentleman has misrepresented us, give me leave to present you a
Dance I provided to entertain your Son with, in which is represented all
the Beauties of our Lives.
L. _Blun._ Oh! by all means, Cousin, by all means.
Sir _Mer._ What hoa! _Roger_, bring in the Dancers.
_Here the Dance, representing Rake-hells, Constable, Watch, &c._
Enter _Philip_.
_Phil._ Sir, who do’s your Worship think is arriv’d?
Sir _Row._ My Son _George_, I hope, come in the Nick.
_Phil._ Even so, Sir, from _Paris_-- [Exit.
Sir _Row._ The Prodigal return’d! then kill the fatted Calf.
Enter _George_ drest like a Prentice.
--My own dear Boy, thou art welcome to my Arms, as e’er thy Mother was;
for whose dear sake I pardon all thy Follies.
[_George_ Kneels.
Sir _Mer._ Ay, Sir, I had a Mother too, or I’m bely’d-- [Weeping.
Pox take him that he should come just in the nick, as the old Fellow
says--
[Aside.
Sir _Row._ Yes, you had a Mother, whom in my Youth I was compel’d to
marry; and, Gad, I think, I got thee with as ill a Will; but _George_
and my _Olivia_ in heat of Love, when my desire was new. But harkye, Boy
_George_, you have cost me a damn’d deal of Money, Sirrah; but you shall
marry, and redeem all, _George_.
_Geo._ What you please, Sir; to study Virtue, Duty and Allegiance, shall
be my future Business.
Sir _Row._ Well said, _George_, here’s a Boy now.
Sir _Mer._ Virtue and Allegiance! Lord, Lord, how came so sneaking a
fellow to spend five thousand Pounds of his Master’s Cash?
Sir _Row._ She’s rich, _George_, but something homely.
_Geo._ She’ll not be proud then, Sir.
Sir _Row._ Not much of her Beauty--she’s of a good staid Age too, about
some fourscore.
_Geo._ Better still, Sir, I shall not fear Cuckoldom.
Sir _Row._ For that I cannot answer; but she has two thousand a year.
I mean to settle my Family, and then--marry my self, _George_.
L. _Blun._ What, to this old Lady’s Grand-daughter? Methinks she’s more
fit for your Son, Sir _Rowland_, and the old Lady for you.
Sir _Row._ No, no, the young Rogues can help themselves with Mistresses;
but ‘tis well if an old Man can keep his Wife to himself--I’ve invited
’.m to Dinner to day, and see, they are come.
Enter Lady _Youthly_, led by her Chaplain [Mr. _Twang_], and
leaning on a Staff, and _Teresia_.
L. _Youth._ Where’s Sir _Rowland Marteen_? Oh, your Servant, Sir, I am
come.
[Runs against _George_.
_Twang._ Your Ladyship is mistaken, this is not Sir _Rowland_, but a
handsome proper young Man.
L. _Youth._ A young Man! I cry your mercy heartily--Young Man,
I alighted in the Sun, and am almost blind.
_Geo._ With wondrous old Age. [Aside.
L. _Youth._ Good lack, Sir _Rowland_, that I should mistake a young Man
so!
Sir _Row._ Ay, Madam, and such a young Man too.
L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, I see him now. [Puts on her Spectacles.
_Geo._ S’death, what a Sepulcher is here to bury a Husband in? How came
she to escape the Flood? for sure she was not born since.
[Aside.
Sir _Row._ This is the lusty Lad, my Son _George_, I told your Ladyship
of.
L. _Youth._ Cot so, cot so, is it so, Sir? I ask your Pardon, Sir. Mr.
_Twang_, take a survey of him, and give me your Opinion of his Person
and his Parts.
_Twang._ Truly, Madam, the young Man is of a comely Personage and
Lineaments.
L. _Youth._ Of what, Sir?--Lord, I have such a Cold. [Coughs.
_Geo._ Which she got when the _Picts_ went naked.
L. _Blun._ Madam, you have a Power over Sir _Rowland_; pray intreat him
to take his Son, Sir _Merlin_, into Grace again.
[To _Teresia_.
_Ter._ That, Sir, you must grant me; pray let me know the Quarrel.
[Sir _Rowland_ seems to tell.
_Geo._ By Heaven, she’s fair as the first ruddy Streaks of opening Day.
[Looking on _Teresia_.
Young as the budding Rose, soft as a _Cupid_, but never felt his Dart,
she is so full of Life and Gaiety. Pray, Madam, who is that Lady?
[To Lady _Blun._
L. _Blun._ The Grandchild of your Mistress, and your Mother that must
be.
_Geo._ Then I shall cuckold my Father, that’s certain. [Aside.
Sir _Row._ For your sake, Madam, once again I re-establish him in my
family; but the first Fault cashiers him--Come, let’s in--Here, my Lady
_Youthly_, take _George_ by the hand; but have a care of the young
Rogue, if he comes once to touch so brisk a Widow, he sets her Heart on
fire.
_Geo._ Which will burn like a snuff of a Candle; no body will be able to
endure it.
[Aside.
--So Fortune, I see, provides for me:
On this hand Wealth, on that young Pleasures lie;
He ne’er wants these, who has that kind Supply.
[Exeunt.
_The End of the First Act._
ACT II.
SCENE I. Sir _Rowland’s_ Lodging.
Enter Sir _Rowland_, _Teresia_, and Lady _Youthly_, &c.
L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, if I should be inclin’d to cast away my
self on your Son _George_, what wou’d you settle?
Sir _Row._ Settle! not a Souse, Madam; he carries the best younger
Brother’s Fortune in _Christendom_ about him.
L. _Youth._ Why, the young Man’s deserving, I confess. But he’s your
Son, Sir _Rowland_, and something ought to be settled upon the Heirs of
our Bodies, lawfully begotten.
Sir _Row._ All _Hercules_ his Labours were a Jig to his that shall beget
’.m.
[Aside.
If you like him upon these terms, to make him Master of your Fortune--
L. _Youth._ For that, let him trust to me, and his own deservings.
Sir _Row._ No trusting in these fickle Times, Madam--Why, I’ll let the
young sturdy Rogue out to hire; he’ll make a pretty Livelihood at
Journey-Work; and shall a Master-Workman, a Husband, deserve nothing?
L. _Youth._ Ay, these Husbands that know their own Strength, as they
say, set so high a value on their conjugal Virtues. And if he be
disloyal, again o’t’.ther side he gives a Wife so ill an Example--for we
are all liable to Temptations.
Sir _Row._ Well said; if thou beest so, it must be the old Tempter
himself.
[Aside.
Look ye, Madam, I’ll propose a fair Swap; if you’ll consent that I
shall marry _Teresia_, I’ll consent that you shall marry _George_.
L. _Youth._ How, my Grand-daughter? Why, I design’d her for your eldest
Son, Sir _Merlin_; and she has a good Fortune of five hundred a year
that I cannot hinder her of; and is too young for you.
Sir _Row._ So is _George_ for your Ladyship; and as for his Fortune,
’.is more than likely I shall make him my eldest Son.
L. _Youth._ Say you so, Sir, well, I’ll consider, and take Advice of my
Friends.
Sir _Row._ Consider! alas, Madam, my House will be besieged by all the
Widows in Town; I shall get more by shewing him, than the _Rhinoceros_.
Gad, I’ll sell the young Rogue by Inch of Candle, before he’s debauch’d
and spoil’d in this leud Town.
L. _Youth._ Well, suppose--
Sir _Row._ Nothing under _Teresia_--Gad, I think some old Dog-Star
reigns to Day, that so many old Hearts are burning in their Sockets--I’m
in love with this young Tittymouse here, most damnably--Well, what say
you, Widow? Speak now, or you know the Proverb.
L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, you are too hard for me.
[Ex. all but _Teresia_.
Enter _Olivia_, runs to her and embraces her.
_Ter._ ‘Tis as you said, _Olivia_, I am destin’d to your Father.
_Oliv._ What, the Sentence is past then?
_Ter._ Ay, but the Devil is in us, if we stay till Execution Day: Why,
this is worse than being mew’d up at _Hackney-School_--my Fortune’s my
own, without my Grandmother, and with that Stock I’ll set up for my
self, and see what Traffick this wide World affords a young beginner.
_Oliv._ That’s well resolv’d; I am of the same mind, rather than marry
Mr. _Welborn_, whom I never saw.--But prithee let’s see what we have in
Stock, besides ready Money--What Toys and Knick-nacks to invite.
_Ter._ Faith, my Inventory is but small--Let me see--First, one pretty
well made Machine, call’d a Body, of a very good Motion, fit for several
uses--one pretty conceited Head-Piece, that will fit any body’s
Coxcomb,--when ‘tis grave and dull, ‘twill fit an Alderman; when
politick and busy, a Statesman; turn it to Intrigue, ‘twill fit a City
Wife; and to Invention, it will set up an Evidence.
_Oliv._ Very well!
_Ter._ _Item_, One Tongue, that will prattle Love, if you put the Heart
in time (for they are Commodities I resolve shall go together) I have
Youth enough to please a Lover, and Wit enough to please my self.
_Oliv._ Most excellent Trifles all! As for my out-side, I leave to the
Discretion of the Chafferer; but I have a rare Device, call’d an
Invention, that can do many Feats; a Courage that wou’d stock a Coward;
and a pretty Implement, call’d a Heart, that will strike fire with any
convenient force: I have eight thousand Pounds to let out on any able
Security, but not a Groat unless I like the Man.
_Ter._ Thus furnish’d, we shall ruin all the _Jews_, and undo the
_India_ Houses--But where shall we show? where meet with the
Love-Merchants?
_Oliv._ What think you of the Gallery at the Play in Masks?
_Ter._ Shu, a State-Trick, first taken up by Women of Quality, and now
run into Ridicule, by all the little common Devils of the Town; and is
only a Trap for a Termer, a small new rais’d Officer, or a City Cully,
where they baul out their eighteen Pence in Baudy, and filthy Nonsense,
to the disturbance of the whole House, and the King’s Peace: the Men of
Quality have forsaken it.
_Oliv._ What think you of the _Mall_?
_Ter._ As too publick to end an Intrigue; our Affairs require a Conquest
as sudden as that of _Cæsar_, who came, saw and overcame.
_Oliv._ ‘Tis true, besides there’s so many Cruisers, we shall never
board a Prize. What think you of the Church?
_Ter._ An hypocritical Shift; of all Masks I hate that of Religion; and
it shou’d be the last place I’d wish to meet a Lover in, unless to marry
him.
_Oliv._ And, Faith, that’s the last thing a Lover shou’d do, but we are
compell’d to haste, ‘tis our last Refuge; if we cou’d but see and like
our Men, the business were soon dispatcht.--Let me see--Faith, e’en put
on Breeches too, and thus disguis’d seek our Fortune--I am within these
three days to be fetch’d from _Hackney School_, where my Father believes
me still to be, and thou in that time to be marry’d to the old
Gentleman; Faith, resolve--and let’s in and dress thee--away, here’s my
Lady--
[They run out.
SCENE II. A Chamber.
Enter _Mirtilla_ and Mrs. _Manage_.
_Mir._ Ah, let me have that Song again.
A Song by Mr. _Gildon_.
I.
_No, _Delia_, no: What Man can range
From such Seraphic Pleasure?
‘Tis want of Charms that make us change,
To grasp the Fury, Treasure.
What Man of Sense wou’d quit a certain Bliss,
For Hopes and empty Possibilities?_
II.
_Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend,
In hopes of Chymic Treasure,
But for their fancy’d Riches find
Both want of Gold and Pleasure.
Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more;
The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._
_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he’s handsomer, and handsomer,
_Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he’s all over Monsieur--Not
see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives,
design a strict Obedience to your Husband.
_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had
heal’d the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I
ne’er shou’d love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir’d my Soul, and
for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.
Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on
_Mirtilla_.
_Man._ See, Madam, there’s an Object may put out that Flame, and may
revive the old one.
_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._ [Turns and walks away.
_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face
be turn’d with shame away.
[Offers to advance, and stops.
--’Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify’d with Pride and Anger.
I see thou’st in thy Eyes a little Modesty.
[Goes to her nearer.
That wou’d conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.
_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.
_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou’d go on; ‘Twere
mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has
gloriously improv’d you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.
_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?
_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look’d down, and heard
thy Vows.
_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou’d Heaven concern it self with Lovers
Perjuries, ‘twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.
_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a
little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up
with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey
Boor!--What was it charm’d you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?
_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his
Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.
_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?
_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to’t; He does not play
at the Groom-Porter’s for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.
_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation’s
Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for
Heav’n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my
industrious Love.
_Mir._ I do confess--
_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting
on.--
And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so
many tender Hours, all lavish’d on a Brute, who never lusted ‘bove my
Lady’s Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.
_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on-- [Sighs.
_Geo._ ‘Sdeath, I cou’d rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by
such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got’st thou this coarse
Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she’s sworn adorn’d me,
since a dull, fat-fac’d, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as
well.
[Offers to go.
_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--
_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not
marry’d? Tell me that, false Charmer.
_Mir._ Yes.-- [Holding him.
_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou’d thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy
Heart, and my Repose away.
_Mir._ Dost think I marry’d with that dull design? Canst thou believe I
gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony
that--A necessary trick, devis’d by wary Age, to traffick ‘twixt a
Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov’d, is marry’d to my Soul.
_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a
charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.
Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees ‘em, and offers to go out
again.
L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I
thought you’d been alone.
_Geo._ ‘Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_! [Aside.
_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--
L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--
_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.
L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I
interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen’d to Sir _Morgan_,
coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn’d over in
_Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out,
and had almost kill’d him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that
came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship’s
Hands--But I’ll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your
Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he’s already on the Stairs.
[Exit.
_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, ‘tis necessary you depart, sure of
my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me
but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I’ll pay you back with Interest.
_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no
Discovery of my being here?
_Mir._ She’d sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good
Breeding:--away, I hear ‘em coming.
[She puts him out at a back-Door.
Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.
L. _Blun._ He’s gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.
Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a
_Page_ to the _Prince_.
Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or
so, d’ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.
_Prince._ As Gat shall save me, Sir, I am sorry for it--another time,
Sir: I have earnest business. Now, I am sure nothing worth seeing can
belong to this litter of Fools.
L. _Blun._ My Daughter is a Person of Quality, I assure you, Sir.
_Prince._ I doubt it not, Madam--If she be of the same Piece--Send me a
fair Deliverance.
[Sir _Morgan_ leads him to _Mirtilla_, he starts.
--Ha! What bright Vision’s that?
_Mir._ Heav’n! ‘Tis the lovely Prince I saw in _Flanders_. [Aside.
Sir _Mer._ Look how he stares--why, what the Devil ails he?
Sir _Morg._ To her, Sir, or so, d’ye see, what a Pox, are you afraid of
her?
L. _Blun._ He’s in Admiration of her Beauty, Child.
_Prince._ By Heav’n, the very Woman I adore! [Aside.
Sir _Morg._ How d’ye, see, Sir, how do ye, ha, ha, ha?
_Prince._ I cannot be mistaken; for Heav’n made nothing but young Angels
like her!
Sir _Morg._ Look ye, Page, is your Master in his right Wits?
Sir _Mer._ Sure he’s in love, and Love’s a devilish thing.
Sir _Morg._ Sa, ho, ho, ho, where are you, Sir, where are you?
_Prince._ In Heav’n! [Puts him away.
Oh! do not rouse me from this charming Slumber, lest I shou’d wake,
and find it but a Dream.
Sir _Mer._ A plaguy dull Fellow this, that can sleep in so good Company
as we are.
Sir _Morg._ Dream--A Fiddle-stick; to her, Man, to her, and kiss her
soundly, or so, d’ye see.
Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay; kiss her, Sir, kiss her--ha, ha, ha, he’s very
simple.
_Prince._ Kiss her,--there’s universal Ruin in her Lips.
_Mir._ I never knew ‘em guilty of such Mischiefs.
Sir _Morg._ No, I’ll be sworn, I have kist ‘em twenty times, and they
never did me harm.
_Prince._ Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne’er were
prest but by soft _Southern_ Winds.
Sir _Morg._ _Southern_ Winds--ha, ha, lookye, d’ye see, Boy, thy
Master’s mad, or so, d’ye see--why, what a Pox, d’ye think I never kiss
my Wife, or so, d’ye see.
_Prince._ Thy Wife!--
_Mir._ He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he’s mad--and
will undo my Hopes.
[Aside.
_Prince._ Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she’s mine,
a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.
Sir _Morg._ Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d’ye see, what, is it
_Midsummer-moon_ with you, Sir, or so, d’ye see?
_Mir._ In pity give him way, he’s madder than a Storm.
_Prince._ Thou know’st thou art, and thy dear Eyes confess
it--a numerous Train attended our Nuptials, witness the Priest, witness
the sacred Altar where we kneel’d--when the blest silent Ceremony was
perform’d.
_Mir._ Alas! he’s mad, past all recovery mad.
Sir _Mer._ Mad, say, poor Soul--Friend, how long has your Master been
thus intoxicated?
_Page._ He’s mad indeed to make this Discovery. [Aside.
Alas, Sir, he’s thus as often as he sees a beautiful Lady, since he
lost a Mistress, who dy’d in _Flanders_ to whom he was contracted.
Sir _Mer._ Good lack--ay, ay, he’s distracted, it seems.
_Page._ See how he kneels to her! stand off, and do but mind him.
_Mir._ Rise, Sir,--you’l ruin me--dissemble if you love--or you can
ne’er be happy.
[In a low Voice, and raising him.
_Prince._ My Transport is too high for a Disguise--give me some hope,
promise me some Relief, or at your Feet I’ll pierce a wounded Heart.
_Mir._ Rise, and hope for all you wish: Alas, he faints--
[She takes him up, he falls upon her Bosom.
_Page._ Hold him fast, Madam, between your Arms, and he’ll recover
presently. Stand all away.--
_Prince._ Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear,
lest thou shouldst break--for Women wou’d be Gods, but for Inconstancy.
_Page._ See, he begins to come to himself again--keep off--
_Mir._ You have a thousand Charms that may secure you--The Ceremony of
my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all
the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I’ll contrive it so, that
you shall speak with me this Night alone.
_Prince._ So, now let my Soul take Air--
L. _Blun._ What pity ‘tis so fine a Gentleman shou’d be thus.
_Mir._ You must be bringing home your Fops to me, and see what comes of
it.
[As she passes out.
Sir _Morg._ Fops! I thought him no more a Fop, than I do my own natural
Cousin here.
[Ex. _Mir._ in Scorn.
_Prince._ Where am I? [The _Page_ has whispered him.
Sir _Mer._ Why, here, Sir, here, at Sir _Morgan Blunder’s_ Lodging in
_Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.
_Prince._ That’s well, he has told me--Where have I been this long half
hour, and more?
Sir _Mer._ Nay, the Lord knows.
_Prince._ I fancy’d I saw a lovely Woman.
Sir _Mer._ Fancy’d--why, so you did, Man, my Lady _Mirtilla Blunder_.
_Prince._ Methought I slept upon her snowy Bosom, and dreamt I was in
Heaven, where I claim’d her.
Sir _Mer._ Good lack aday--why, so you did, Sir, ha, ha, ha.
_Prince._ And rav’d on Love; and talk’d abundance of Nonsense.
Sir _Morg._ Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth, and so you did, Sir.
_Prince._ I ask your Pardon, Sir, ‘tis an infirmity I have that ever
takes me at the approach of a fine Woman, which made me so unwilling to
see your Lady.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye, I ask your Pardon heartily, or so, d’ye see--and am
sorry you are not in a Condition to visit her often.
_Prince._ I shall be better when I am us’d to her; ‘tis the first time
only affects me.
Sir _Morg._ Pray, Sir, be pleas’d to use your self to her, or so, d’ye
see--she’s a civil Person, and a Person of Quality before I marry’d her,
d’ye see.
L. _Blun._ My Son tells you Truth, Sir.
_Prince._ Madam, I doubt it not, pray beg her Pardon, and do you give me
yours.
[Bows and kisses her Hand and goes out.
L. _Blun._ A most accomplish’d Person--
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. Another Chamber.
Enter _Olivia_ and _Teresia_, in Mens Clothes.
_Oliv._ Well, the Ball does not begin these three Hours, and we’ll
divert our selves at my Aunt’s Basset-Table, which you see is preparing;
her natural Propensity to oblige both Sexes makes her keep a Bank on
purpose to bring ‘em together. There we shall see the old and the young,
the ugly and the handsome, Fools that have Money, and Wits that have
none; and if the Table affords nothing to please the Appetite, we’ll
abroad for Forage.
Enter Sir _Merlin_ pulling in _George_, follow’d by Sir _Morgan_,
Page and Footmen to _George_.
Sir _Mer._ Nay, Sir, I am resolv’d you shall honour my Aunt’s
Basset-Table--
_Geo._ My Aunt’s Basset-Table? There may be Money stirring among these
Fools, and Fortune may befriend me.
[Aside.
Sir _Mer._ Sir _Morgan_, pray know this worthy Gentleman, I have the
honour to lodge in the House with him.
[They salute one another.
Sir, this is Sir _Morgan Blunder_, a Person of Quality in _Wales_,
I assure you.
_Geo._ I question it not, Sir, and am proud of the Honour of kissing
your Hands.
_Ter._ Yonder’s a handsom Gentleman.
_Oliv._ My Brother _George_, as I live, ‘tis as I cou’d wish.
[Aside.
Enter _Welborn_.
_Wel._ _Lejere!_
_Geo._ _Welborn!_ Welcome from _Paris_, I heard of your arrival from
Prince _Frederick_.
_Wel._ Yes, I am come to my Destruction, Friend.
_Geo._ Ay, thou’rt to be marry’d, I hear, to a _Welch_ Fortune.
_Wel._ Though Matrimony be a sufficient Curse, yet that’s not the
worst--I am fall’n most damnably in love, since I arriv’d, with a young
Creature I saw in the _Mall_ t’other Night; of Quality she was, I dare
swear, by all that was about her; but such a Shape! a Face! a Wit!
a Mind, as in a moment quite subdu’d my Heart: she had another Lady with
her, whom (dogging her Coach) I found to be a Neighbour of mine, and
Grand-Daughter to the Lady _Youthly_; but who my Conqueror was I never
since could learn.
_Oliv._ ‘Slife, _Teresia_, yonder’s the handsom Fellow that entertain’d
us with so much Wit, on _Thursday_ last in the _Mall_.
_Ter._ What, when you chang’d your Breeches for Petticoats at my
Lodgings.
_Oliv._ That Night, and ever since, I have felt a sort of a Tendre for
him.
_Ter._ As I do for his Friend--Pray Heav’n he be not marry’d! I fear he
has laid an Imbargo on my Heart, before it puts out of the Port.
_Geo._ Are you not for the Basset?
_Wel._ No, I’ve business at the Ball to night; besides, my Lady
_Blunder_ has a Quarrel to me for last Night’s Debauch; I’ll wait on you
in the Morning.
[Exit _Welborn_.
_Geo._ Well, you to your Business, and I to mine.
[Speaks as the rest go out.
Let the dull trading Fool by Business live,
Statesmen by Plots; the Courtier cringe to thrive;
The Fop of Noise and Wealth be cullied on,
And purchase no one Joy by being undone,
Whilst I by nobler careless ways advance,
Since Love and Fortune are acquir’d by Chance.
[Exeunt Omnes.
_The End of the Second Act._
A Song, sung by Sir _Rowland_ in the second Act.
To _TERESIA_.
_Though the Young prize _Cupid’s_ Fire,
‘Tis more valu’d by the Old;
The Sun’s Warmth we now admire,
More than when the Season’s cold._
_Dialogues in the Masque, at the beginning of the third Act._
_He._ Time and Place you see conspire,
With tender Wishes, fierce Desire;
See the willing Victim stands
To be offer’d by your Hands:
Ah! Let me on Love’s Altars lying,
Clasp my Goddess whilst I’m dying.
_She._ Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d’ye say;
Your Eyes too seem closing, and just dying away:
Ah! pray what d’ye want? Explain but your mind,
Which did I but know, perhaps I’d be kind.
_He._ My pretty soft Maid, full of innocent Charms,
I languish to sigh out my Soul in thy Arms;
Oh! then, if I’m lov’d, deny not the Bliss,
But tell me I’m happy, with a ravishing Kiss.
_She._ Oh! Fy, Sir, I vow I cannot endure you;
Be civil, or else I’ll cry out I assure you;
I will not be kiss’d so, nor tumbled, not I,
I’ll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.
_He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire;
Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire.
The Practis’d, not Innocent, dally with Bliss,
Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.
_She._ Let me die now, you’re grown a strange sort of a Man,
To force a young Maid, let her do what she can;
I fear now I blush to think what we’re doing,
And is this the end of all you Men’s wooing?
_He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners,
And none of ‘em blush for’t but poor young Beginners.
In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree,
And those that take most, most happy will be.
_Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.
ACT III.
SCENE I. A rich Chamber.
Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene
opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_,
_Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like
his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of
both Sexes.
_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,--or
rather ‘tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so
dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!
_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?
_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and
Movement of uncommon Fashion?
_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I’m sure my dear Man is
none of ‘em.
[Sighs.
_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir’d burns easily, and soft, but I am all
impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in
my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a
way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.
_Mir._ _Endimion_, where’s Sir _Morgan_?
_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.
_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business
for you e’er the Morning.
_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.
_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and
watches for a tender Look.
_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by
what you’ve said already?
_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. [Aside.
_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis’d--and yet I blush to tell
you I was pleas’d, and blest the dear necessity that forc’d me.
_Oliv._ Ha! ‘tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives
him with inviting Looks. ‘Sdeath, she’s a common Lover! already I’m
arriv’d to Jealousy!
Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast,
goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.
_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb ‘em--’Tis I,
_Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps,
are taken up with different Thoughts--
_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and
gay have pow’r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious
Love declares for _Frederick_; ‘tis great to enslave a Prince.
[Aside.
--_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix
your self i’th’ Crowd, you may be else suspected--
[Goes from him.
_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape,
and Mein.
[Looking round about _George_.
Let me see--What’s this written on his Back?--To be lett ready
furnish’d--
[Reading it.
A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who’s within here?
[Claps him on the Back.
_Geo._ Who’s there? [Exit _Olivia_.
_Ter._ Love and Fortune.
_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring’st
’.m?
_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your
Person and Parts--if thou be’st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me
see thy Face; and if I’m not mistaken, ‘tis ten to one, but we may go
near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.
_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as
ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?
_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton
Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor
low, and extremely well fashion’d.
[Reads all this in her Tablets.
--Ay, ay, you are the Man--
_Geo._ I am glad on’t, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou
art not the Woman--
_Ter._ Heav’n! what Woman, Sir?
_Geo._ Why, any Woman that’s pretty, witty, young, and good-natur’d.
_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.
_Geo._ Faith, and that’s kind; but every thing in its due time: I love
to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there’s as much Pleasure in the
Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to’t, and the first Stage is a
handsom Face.
_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.
_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to
engage him a long while.
_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call’d little Freedoms, Kissing,
Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where
Whip and Spur laid by, all tir’d and dull, you lazily lie down and
sleep.
_Geo._ No, I’m a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True
Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new
Discoveries.
_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?
_Geo._ Yes, I once discover’d it in my Voyage round the World.
_Ter._ Sure ‘tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as ‘tis
approach’d.
Enter Sir _Rowland_.
_Geo._ Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we
shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that
will recompense our pains.--
[Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from
him.
Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I’ll have you in my Eye.
[The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to
_Mirtilla_.
_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the
thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless
Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my
Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.
_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave
making eternal Vows?
_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--
_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a
Deity?
_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?
_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside.
_Mir._ Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our
Sex’s Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--
_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.
_Mir._ Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither
this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir.
[Pointing to _Manage_.
_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call’d to
Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.
_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?
_Geo._ Marry’d--that’s a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design,
keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.
_Ter._ Nay, truth is, ‘tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to
make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy,
unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy,
out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty.
_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.
_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.
_Geo._ Good.
_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.
_Geo._ Very good.
_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love.
[Pulls off her Mask.
_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a
Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold
my Father.
[Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.
_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.
_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company,
I’ll take the Air a little, and return.
[Goes out with _Manage_.
_Geo._ Is this design’d or real?--perhaps she is retir’d for me--Mrs.
_Manage_.--
[_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.
_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal.
[Aside.
_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?
_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your
admittance.
[Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn’s_ Cloke, goes out, and
_Welborn_ enters into the Company dress’d like the _Prince_.
_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but
I’ll trace the Mystery.
Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here’s nothing but gaping and
peeping in one another’s Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame ‘em
into Action.
[Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_
enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.
_Wel._ Ha! what’s this, Sir, a Challenge?
_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.
_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be, [Reads.
She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.
_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I
assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear
Reason from her--
_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty
Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the
Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?
_Oliv._ Yes.
_Wel._ Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and
insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has
recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that
jilts her Husband, will her Lover.
_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.
_Wel._ What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for
want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets
with.
_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.
_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if
she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.
_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.
_Wel._ How!
_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.
_Wel._ Not so--but--
_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--
_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--
Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.
_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a health to the Man,
That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?
Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our
selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.
L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.
Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as
magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her
Prime, or so, de see.
[Sings.
L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct
you.
Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to
see him hang’d.
Sir _Row._ Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!
Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why,
what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in
Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little
Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.
Sir _Row._ A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.
L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?
Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion
to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.
Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir,
swallow me that Word, or I’ll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you
have drunk.
Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you’re a Blunderbuss.
Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.
Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you’re the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so,
I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou
shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to
hang thee, and that’s fair and civil.
Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I’m drunk enough to ravish, I’ll cuckold my
old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.
Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I’ll kill the Dog, because I’ll have the
Law on my side--Come on, Sir.
[Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in
and parts ‘em.
_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!
Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.
_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty ‘twas. [Pulls off his Vizard.
Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my
Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--
[Exeunt all but _George_.
_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder
that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait--while
the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll
softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there--
[Exit.
SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince
_Frederick_._
_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish’d with excess of Joy.
_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.
_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!
The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers
Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young
Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes,
soft as thy tender Touches; and e’er the Pantings of my Heart are laid,
new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in
Love’s harmonious Order.
[Kisses and embraces her.
Enter _George_, softly.
_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because
the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be
mistaken.
_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and
languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.
_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but ‘tis
impossible.
[Aside.
_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov’d? Have I
about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?
_Geo._ It is the Prince. [Aside.
_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the
Sacrifice which I have made?
_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood. [Draws.
_Mir._ Think not the mighty Present of your Jewels, enough to purchase
Provinces, has bought one single Sigh, or Wish: No, my dear Prince, you
owe ‘em all to Love, and your own Charms.
_Geo._ Oh, damn’d, dissembling Jilt! [Aside.
_Prince._ No more, no more, my Soul’s opprest with Joy: let me unload it
in thy tender Arms, and sigh it out into thy ravishing Bosom.
_Geo._ Death, and Damnation!--
I shall forget his Quality and Virtue, forget he was my Friend, or sav’d
this Life; and like a River, swell’d with angry Tides, o’erflow those
Banks that made the Stream so gay.
_Mir._ Who’s there?--I heard a Voice--_Manage_?
_Geo._ Yes. [Softly.
_Prince._ Approach, thou Confident of all my Joys; approach, and be
rewarded--
[_Prince_ takes his Jewel from his Hat.
_Geo._ Yes, for my excellent Bauding--By Heav’n, I dare not touch his
princely Person.
_Prince._ Where art thou? take this Jewel and retire.
[Gropes for his Hand, gives it him.
_Geo._ E’en my Misfortunes have a sort of Luck; but I’ll withdraw, for
fear this Devil about me shou’d raise my too rash Hand against his Life.
[Exit.
_Prince._ Come, my eternal Pleasure--each Moment of the happy Lover’s
Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.
[Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.
SCENE III. A Garden by Night still.
Enter _George_ with his Sword in his Hand, as before.
_Geo._ Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my
Hand?--By Heav’n, I’ll back--Whither? To kill a Woman, a young perjur’d
Woman!--Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou’d we do you Justice, a universal
Ruin wou’d ensue; not one wou’d live to stock the World anew. Who is’t
among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble
Race, can swear she’s Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on--be
false--be fickle still: You act but Nature--But, my faithless
Friend--where I repose the secrets of my Soul--except this one--Alas! he
knew not this:--Why do I blame him then?
Enter _Olivia_, dress’d as before.
_Oliv._ Fire! Fire! Fire!
_Geo._ _Olivia’s_ Voice!--Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou’d be
_Olivia’s_, but thy Shape--and yet a Woman is all o’er Disguise.
Enter Lady _Blunder_ in her Night-Gown.
L. _Blun._ Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir _Morgan._
Enter Sir _Rowland_, and Servants.
Sir _Row._ A Pox on your Son, and mine to boot; they have set all the
Sack-Butts a Flaming in the Cellar, thence the Mischief began.
_Timothy_, _Roger_, _Jeffrey_, my Money-Trunks, ye Rogues! my
money-Trunks!
L. _Blun._ My Son, good _Roger_! my own Sir _Moggy_!
Sir _Row._ The ten thousand Pounds, ye Rascal, in the Iron Trunk, that
was to be paid Mr. _Welborn_ for _Olivia’s_ Portion.
[Exit.
L. _Blun._ Oh my Son! my Son!--run to the Parson, _Sam_, and let him
send the Church-Buckets. Oh, some help! some help!
Enter _Manage_.
_Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Chamber’s all on Flame.
Enter _Britton_.
_Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger.
_Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns.
_Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder!
_Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House;
there lies one in the Fore-Garden.
_Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go.
_Geo._ Revenge is vanish’d, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and
mightier Friendship seizes all. I’ll save him, though I perish in the
Attempt.
[Runs out, _Britton_ after him.
Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_.
L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_!
Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I’d rather he should be
burnt, than hang’d on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But
where’s Boy _George_?
Enter Men with Trunks.
_Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House.
Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly’s_ in
_Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come,
Sister, let’s away.
[Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_.
Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the
Flame behind ‘em.
_Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my
Fortune! All!
_Mir._ Oh, Heav’ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly.
_Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my
Fears to see you die!
_Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may
leap, but I want Courage.
_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I’ll grasp thee, ev’n in
Flames, and die with thee.
_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.
Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.
_Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my
Charmer; Heav’n has sent us Aid.
[Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George’s_ Arms; after
her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage’s_ Arms, she
faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.
_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign’d at thy
glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my
Love, the Treasure of my Soul?
_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.
_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--
Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.
Enter _Olivia_.
Carry ‘em to Mr. _Welborn’s_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to
me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.
_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!
_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship,
I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry’d to my Lodgings at _Welborn’s_.
_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.
[Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.
_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.
_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.
_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou’d I cou’d
see his Face by all this fatal Light.
Enter _Constable_ and Watch.
_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play’d rarely, and we have
Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where
there’s Fire, there’s Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum,
what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of
Jewels.
[Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar
Window.
Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!
Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you’re a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at
the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues!
that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk,
Sirrah!
_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.
Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here’s a Crown for you; carry us to the next
Tavern, and we’ll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat
in a Storm.
_Oliv._ Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of
the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?
Sir _Mer._ What, _Endimion_! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Page? He lent me Money
to Night at the Basset-Table; I’ll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr.
Constable, and, gad, we’ll all to the Tavern, and drink up the Sun,
Boys.
_Oliv._ Yonder Gentleman too has receiv’d some hurt by the Fire, and
must go home, Sir; but you must restore him the Box, Mr. Constable.
Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, lookye, de see, return the Gentleman all; they’re
Gentlemen, and our intimate Friends, d’ye see.
[Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.
Enter a _Servant_.
_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?
Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d’ye see, he shall along with us to the
Tavern.
_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back
on purpose; she has spoil’d her Beauty with crying for you.
Sir _Morg._ And wash’d off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa’ me,
_Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.
_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not
stay and drink now, before I’ve satisfy’d your Mother.
Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King’s Name, Mr. Constable,
bring him along.
[The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.
Sings.
_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a Health to the Man,
That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. _The _Prince’s_ Lodgings_.
Enter Page with Lights, sets ‘em on the Table. [Ex.
Enter _Mirtilla_, led by Mrs. _Manage_.
_Mir._ Ha! where am I, _Manage_?
_Man._ Heav’n be thanked, Madam, at the Prince’s Lodgings.
_Mir._ What happy Star conducted us, and sav’d us from the Fury of the
Flames?
_Man._ Those whose Influence are always gracious to your Ladyship.
_Mir._ But where’s the Prince? where’s my illustrious Lover?
_Man._ Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.
_Mir._ But my _Endimion_?--Is _Endimion_ safe?
_Man._ Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.
_Mir._ Then perish all the rest--Go send to search him out, and let him
instantly be brought to me--Hah--_Lejere_.
Enter _George_.
_Geo._ Baud, stand aside--and do your Office yonder--
[Puts away _Manage_.
Why are you frighted, Madam, because I’m not the Lover you expected?
_Mir._ What Lover! be witness, Heaven--
_Geo._ That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling
tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there,
swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.
_Mir._ Why all this mighty Rage?--Because I disappointed you to night?
_Geo._ No, by Heaven, I dully cou’d have waited for the Hour; have
hop’d, and wish’d, and languish’d out an Age. But, oh _Mirtilla_! Oh
thou perjur’d Fair!--But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be
satirical.
_A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,_
_Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites._
_Mir._ And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav’d this
worthless Life--for you--
_Geo._ What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! while Hell and Furies
give her Heart its motion. You know not where you are?
_Mir._ Perhaps I do not.
_Geo._ Swear, for thou’rt damn’d already, and by what black Degrees I
will unfold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, though
nobly born, ‘twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead
with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and
call’d its faded Beauties back.
_Mir._ Confess’d; And what of this?
_Geo._ Confirm’d you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou’d
invent, or Love inspire.
_Mir._ And yet at your Return you found me marry’d to another.
_Geo._ Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter’d me with
some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive
Night, you rais’d my Hopes to all distracting Love cou’d wish--that very
Night--Oh, let me rave and die, and never think that Disappointment
o’er!
_Mir._ What, you saw me courted at the Ball, perhaps.
_Geo._ Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless and panting,
with new-acted Joys, the happy Lover lay--Oh _Mirtilla_!
_Mir._ Nay, if he knows it, I’ll deny’t no more. [Aside.
_Geo._ There is no Honesty in all thy Kind.
_Mir._ Or if there be, those that deal in’t are weary of their Trade.
But where’s the mighty Crime?
_Geo._ No, I expect thou shouldst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my
Hearing, and out-lye my Senses.--The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless
dear destruction.
_Mir._ The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?
_Geo._ Thou own’st the Conquest then?
_Mir._ With as much Vanity as thou wouldst do, if thou hadst won his
Sword: Hast thou took care wisely to teach me all the Arts of Life, and
dost thou now upbraid my Industry? Look round the World, and thou shalt
see, _Lejere_, Ambition still supplies the place of Love. The worn-out
Lady, that can serve your Interest, you swear has Beauties that
out-charms Fifteen; and for the Vanity of Quality, you feign and
languish, lye, protest, and flatter--All Things in Nature cheat, or else
are cheated.
_Geo._ Well said; take off thy Veil, and shew the Jilt.
_Mir._ You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by
Dissimulation: This has a thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears
in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by
turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of
Sighs and Softness; these to _Lejere_ are due: But all my Charms, and
Arts of gay dissembling, are for the credulous Prince.--Ha--he’s
here!--and with him the dear Youth that has enslav’d me, who triumphs
o’er the rest.
[Aside.
Enter Prince _Frederick_, _Olivia_ following, sees _Mirtilla_, and
withdraws.
_Oliv._ Ha! _Mirtilla_, and my Brother here? Oh, how I long to see that
Stranger’s Face.
[Aside.
_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, thou Charmer of Life’s dull and tedious Hours, how
fares thy Heart? Dwells any Pantings there, but those that Love, and his
dear Joys create?
_Mir._ Or if there do, you shou’d excuse it now.
_Geo._ How many Devils reign in beauteous Woman!
_Prince._ My dear _Lejere_, congratulate my Joys; take all my Friendship
thou--but thou my Soul. Come, come, my Friend, let us retire together;
I’ll give thee leave to gaze upon my Heaven, and feed on all the Sweets
that Friendship may: But all the rest of the vast Store is mine.
_Man._ Madam, _Endimion_ is already here. [Aside to her.
_Mir._ Thou hast reviv’d me--Let him wait my Call.
[Exit _Prince_ with _Mirtilla_, _George_ goes out, and peeps at
the Door. _Olivia_ comes forward.
_Oliv._ Spite, Spite, and dire Revenge seize my fond Soul!--Oh, that I
were a Man, a loose leud Man; how easily wou’d I rob him of her Heart,
and leave him but the shadow of Enjoyment!
Re-enter _George_.
_Geo._ Now, my dear Sister, if thou ever lov’dst me, revenge thy Brother
on this perjur’d Woman, and snatch her from this gallant Rival’s Arms.
She loves thee--Dissemble thou to love again; meet her Advances with an
equal Ardour, and when thou hast wound her up to dalliance, I’ll bring
the Prince a witness of her Shame.
_Oliv._ But what if he shou’d kill me--
_Geo._ I’ll take care of that.
_Oliv._ Then e’er the morning dawns, you shall behold it: She languishes
to see me, and I wait on purpose for her Commands.
_Geo._ As I cou’d wish: Be sure to act the Lover well. [Exit.
_Oliv._ As well as I can act it.
Enter _Welborn_, habited as last.
That all Mankind are damn’d, I’m positive; at least all Lovers are.
_Wel._ What have we here? the Spark that rally’d me about a Woman at the
Ball to night? Who is it, Sir, you curse so heartily.
_Oliv._ Ha, how beautiful he is--how many Charms dwell in that lovely
Face--
[Aside.
‘Tis you I curse.
_Wel._ Gad, I thank you for that, you were kinder to night, when you
told me of a fine Woman that was in love with me.
_Oliv._ Why, what have you to do with Woman-kind?
_Wel._ A pretty civil Question; has the Lady that sent you a mind to be
inform’d.
_Oliv._ Or if she had, you’re not at leisure now, you are taken up, Sir,
with another Beauty. Did not you swear, never to speak to Woman-kind,
till I had brought her, I told you, sigh’d for you?
_Wel._ Right, and I have kept my word religiously.
_Oliv._ The Devil you have, witness the Joy _Mirtilla_ gave your Soul:
Even now you were all Transport, all Extasy of Love; by Heaven, you had
forgot you brought me in, and past triumphant in _Mirtilla’s_ Arms, Love
in your Heart, and Pleasure in your Eyes.
_Wel._ Ay, sure he mistakes me for the amorous Prince, and thus,
perhaps, has mistook me all the Night: I must not undeceive him.
[Aside.
Whate’er you saw, I have a Heart unwounded, a Heart that never soundly
loved, a little scratch it got the other day by a young Beauty in the
_Mall_, her Name I know not, but I wish’d to know it, and dogg’d her
Coach, I sigh’d a little after her, but since ne’er saw the lovely
Vision.
_Oliv._ Sure this was I. [Aside.
What Livery had she, Sir?
_Wel._ That I took notice of, ‘twas Green and Gold--Since that, I trifle
now and then with Love, to chase away this Image, and that’s all.
_Oliv._ Ha, now I view him well, ‘tis the same handsome Fellow that
entertain’d us in the _Mall_ last Thursday.
_Wel._ Come, Sir, ‘tis late, please you to take a Bed with me to Night,
where we’ll beget a better Understanding.
_Oliv._ A better than you imagine--’Sdeath, to bed with him, I tremble
at the thought--Sir, I do not love a Bedfellow.
_Wel._ Sir, I have lent my Lodgings to a Stranger of Quality, or I wou’d
offer you a single Bed--but for once you may dispense with a Bedfellow.
_Oliv._ I will not put you to that trouble, Sir.
_Wel._ Do you design to make me your Friend, and use me with Ceremony?
Who waits there?
Enter Footman.
_Oliv._ ‘Slife, what shall I do? I cou’d even consent, to prevent his
going to _Mirtilla_--besides, I have no home to go to--
_Wel._ Come, no more Scruples--here--a Night-Gown and a Cap for the
Gentleman.
_Oliv._ What shall I do?--I have a little urgent Business, Sir.
_Wel._ If there be absolute necessity, I’ll see you to your Lodgings.
_Oliv._ Oh, by no means, Sir. ‘Sdeath, whither can I go?
_Wel._ Why do you pause? Deal freely with me, Sir, I hope you do not
take me for a Lover of my own Sex-- Come, come to bed.
_Oliv._ Go you, Sir, I’ll sit and read by you till Day.
_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, Sir, d’ye think my bed’s infectious?
_Oliv._ I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but
do if Necessity compel me to’t.
[Aside.
Go on, Sir, you have shamed me.
[Exeunt.
Enter _Prince_ and _George_.
_Prince._ And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the
Conquest, but the Joys are lasting.
_Geo._ I am glad on’t, Sir.
_Prince._ Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love’s gay Sunshine
dances in my Eyes? If thou’rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn
Vows breath’d in the height of Love, disarm me of thy hopes, if
Friendship wou’d permit thee.
_Geo._ I do not think it, Sir--
_Prince._ Not think it, not think that she has sworn!
_Geo._ Yes, doubtless, Sir--she’s prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by
all she’s sworn by, she’ll break ‘em all: She has less Faith than all
the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spare no
Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar to the
Flowers beneath, but ruffle, ravish, and ruin all.
_Prince._ I speak of my _Mirtilla_.
_Geo._ Why, so do I--of yours, of mine, or any Man’s _Mirtilla._
_Prince._ Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep--
_Geo._ This very she, has all the while dissembled! Such Love she deals
to every gaudy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero?
_Prince._ Away, it cannot be.
_Geo._ By all your Friendship to me, Sir, ‘tis truth.
_Prince._ Racks and Tortures!--let her have made of me a mere Example,
by whom the cozen’d World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had
been pleas’d, though cullyed--Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths
that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh--thou art my Friend, and I
forgive thee.
_Geo._ Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon. [Offers to go.
_Prince._ Stay, stay, _Lejere_,--if she be false, thou’rt all the World
has left me; and I believe--but canst thou prove this to me?
_Geo._ Perhaps I may before the Morning’s dawn.
_Prince._ Ha, prove it here--here, in this very House!
_Geo._ Ay, here, Sir.
_Prince._ What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark--by Heaven,
were he the darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire’s Hope, and Joy of all
the Fair, he shou’d not live to rifle me of Peace.--Come, shew me this
destin’d Victim to my Rage.
_Geo._ No, my Revenge is only comical--If you wou’d see how Woman can
dissemble, come on, and follow me.
_Prince._ What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with
the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg’d me I would leave her
to Repose?
_Geo._ Yes, and wonder’d at her Art; and when you begg’d to watch by her
Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell
feebly from her Tongue, as if’t had been her last, so very sick she
was--till you were gone--Hark--a Door opens--I will obscure the Lights.
[Puts away the Lights.
Enter _Olivia._ They retire a little.
_Oliv._ Was ever Maid so near to being undone? Oh Heavens! in bed with
the dear Man I love, ready to be betray’d by every Sigh.
[_George_ peeps.
_Geo._ ‘Tis _Olivia_.
Enter _Manage_ groping.
_Man._ I left him here--what, by dark? _Endimion_, young, handsome Sir,
where are you?
[Calls _Olivia_.
_Geo._ Do you hear that, Sir?
_Man._ Oh, are you here?-- [Runs against _Olivia_.
_Oliv._ ‘Slife, ‘tis _Manage_--how shall I escape?-- [Aside.
_Man._ Come, Sir, my Lady _Mirtilla_ has dismiss’d her troublesome
Lovers, for your more agreeable Company.
_Geo._ D’ye hear that, Sir?
_Man._ Come softly on, Sir, and follow me.
_Oliv._ I’m all Obedience--
She cannot ravish me, and that’s a Comfort. [Aside, going out.
_Prince._ Oh, _Lejere_--can this be possible? Can there be such a Woman?
_Geo._ Follow him, Sir, and see--
_Prince._ See what!--be witness of her Infamy? Hell! Hell, and all the
Fires of Lust possess her! when she’s so old and leud, all Mankind shun
her.--I’ll be a Coward in my own dire Revenge, and use no manly
Mercy.--But oh, I faint, I faint with Rage and Love, which like two
meeting Tides, swell into Storms.--Bear me a minute to my Couch within.
_Geo._ What have I done! now I repent my Rashness.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. Draws off, discovers _Mirtilla_ at her Toylet, dress’d.
Enter _Manage_, leading _Olivia_ in as _Endymion_, who falls at
_Mirtilla’s_ Feet, whilst she’s there, sings a Song; she takes him
up.
_Mir._ Rise,--When Lovers are alone they pardon Ceremony.--I sent for
you to end the Night with me; say--how shall we employ it?
_Oliv._ I’ll sigh, and gaze upon your lovely Face.
_Mir._ Nothing but sigh, and gaze; we shall grow dull.
_Oliv._ I’ll tell you Tales of Love, and sing you Songs.
_Mir._ Thy Voice, ‘tis true, can charm a thousand ways; but Lovers time
their Joys, these for the Day, those for the lovely Night. And when they
would be silently in love, have Musick of soft Sighs and gentler
Whispers.
_Oliv._ Oh, Love inspires all this--What shall I do? [Aside.
_Mir._ Nay, think not because I sent for you alone, while Night and
Silence favour Lovers Stealths, to take advantage of my yielding Heart.
_Oliv._ I wou’d to Heaven she were in earnest now.
A Noise. Enter _Manage_.
_Man._ Oh, hide your Favourite, Madam--do you hear.
_Mir._ A jealous Lover only, comes in such a Storm--Dear, to my Heart,
whose Safety is my Life. Submit to be conceal’d--but where--Oh Heavens,
he comes--’Tis for you I fear--
[They search for a place.
_Man._ He comes--
_Mir._ Here, let my Train secure you--Till now I never found the right
Use of long Trains and Farthingals.
[She kneels, _Man._ puts her Train over _Olivia_.
Enter _Prince_ and _George_, at the Door.
_Geo._ ‘Sdeath, you have made these Pauses and Alarms to give her time
to jilt you.
_Prince._ Pray Heaven she do--I’d not be undeceiv’d for all the Sun
surveys.
[Enters.
_Mir._ My Lord the Prince! now you are kind indeed.
[Goes and embraces him.
--hah! what means this Unconcern?
_Prince._ I thought I’ad left you sick, extremely sick.
_Mir._ And are you griev’d to find my Health return?
_Prince._ No, wondrous glad of it. You’re mighty gay, _Mirtilla_, much
in Glory.
_Mir._ Can he, who lays his Fortune at my Feet, think me too glorious
for his Arms and Eyes?
_Geo._ Fifty to one the Gipsy jilts him yet. [Aside.
_Prince._ Pray Heaven she lyes but handsomly-- [Aside.
--for mine, _Mirtilla_! Ha--ha--
_Mir._ Am I not yours? You cannot doubt my Vows.
_Geo._ She’ll do’t, and make me love her anew for her rare dexterity at
dissembling.
_Prince._ I left you wearied, going to your Bed, but find you at your
Toylet gayly dress’d, as if some Conquest you design’d e’er morning.
_Mir._ _Manage_, Sir, from the Fire, secur’d these Trifles, and I was
trying several Dresses on; that this slight Beauty that you say has
charm’d you, might, when you saw it next, complete the Conquest.
_Geo._ And that thou wilt, if Flattery can do’t.
_Prince._ Now, were she guilty, as I’m sure she’s not, this Softness
would undo me, and appease me.
_Mir._ You seem as if you doubted what I say.
[This while, _Olivia_ gets off unseen.
By all the Powers--
_Prince._ Hold, I scorn to need an Oath to fix my Faith; Oh! thou art
all divine, and canst not err.
[Embraces her.
Curs’d be the Tongue that dares profane thy Virtue, and curs’d the
listning Fool that dares believe it.
_Geo._ What a poor, wretched, baffled thing is Man, by feebler Woman
aw’d and made a Coxcomb!
_Mir._ Durst any one traduce my Virtue, Sir, and is it possible that you
could hear it?--Then perish all the Beauties you have flatter’d.
[Tears her Head-things.
_Prince._ Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of
Jealousy remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the Crime--Oh,
come, and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy
panting Bosom.
[Leads her off, she looks back on _George_ and smiles.
_Geo._ Now all the Plagues of injur’d Lovers wreck thee; ‘Sdeath, where
has she hid _Olivia_? or how am I deceiv’d?--’Tis Day, and with it new
Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame; break all the
Chains that hold the princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy’d Power
and Vanity.
[Exit.
SCENE III. Changes to Lady _Youthly’s_.
Enter Sir _Rowland_ half dress’d, Lady _Blunder_ in an Undress,
Lady _Youthly_ in her morning-dress, _Teresia_ and Mr. _Twang_.
Sir _Row._ Morrow, my Lady _Youthly_, and thank you for my Night’s
Lodging--You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
L. _Youth._ Truly, Sir _Rowland_, that I intend.
Sir _Row._ But where’s the Bride-groom, Madam?
Enter _Roger_.
How now, _Roger_, what, no news yet of _George_?
_Rog._ Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
Sir _Row._ Rubbish--What--what, is _George_ become the Rubbish of the
World then?
[Weeps.
_Twang._ Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.
L. _Blun._ But are you sure, _Roger_, my Jewel, my Sir _Moggy_ escap’d?
_Rog._ The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.
L. _Youth._ How, Mr. _Twang_, the young Gentleman burnt--Oh--
[Falls in a Chair.
_Ter._ Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.--Good Sir
_Rowland_, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.
Sir _Row._ Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so--
[Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady _Youthly_.
L. _Youth._ How! the House fell on him--Oh!
Sir _Row._ Ah, Madam, that’s all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like
an Elephant--’twill bear a Castle, Madam.
L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy ‘tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a
Back like an Elephant!
L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--
Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast.
[Weeps.
_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man’s a Flower--
Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he
was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he
wou’d have made! And what a swinging Sheriff--
[Cries.
_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?
Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, ‘Ifaks,
Sweet-heart, we’ll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I
shall ne’er beget another _George_.
[Cries.
_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.
Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun’d, and good for
nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.
_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!
Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir
_Morgan_.
Sir _Row._ What’s here, my Rogue?
_Twang._ What’s the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this
hostile manner?
Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!
Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of
the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.
L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan. [Embraces him.
Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--
L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead
me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come
upon their Peril.
[_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._
Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do’st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me
my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi
& Armis_.
L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.
Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?
[Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out:
Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_
enters.
_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature’s Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand
against his Father?
Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully
begotten Spouse.
_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign
your Sword here at his reverend Feet.
Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah--
_Geo._ There, drag away this Brute. [Disarms him. To the Footman.
Sir _Mer._ Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. _Teresia_ along with you.
_Ter._ Sure this is my fine Fellow--and yet the very same that’s to be
married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman.
[_George_ speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.
Sir _Morg._ Burnt, say you, Mrs. _Teresia_, de see--my Lady _Mirtilla_
burnt! Nay, then, ‘tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again.
[Goes out.
Sir _Row._ Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv’st my whole Estate, and
thou shalt have it, Boy--This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her
Grand-child. I’ll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly.
[Goes out.
_Geo._ How, marry to day--Old Gentleman, you must be cozen’d; and,
Faith, that goes against my Conscience--Ha, the Fair, the Young
_Teresia_ there--When a man’s bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never
wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou’d be in my way
now--Fair Creature, are you resolv’d to be my Mother-in-law?
_Ter._ As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir--And see--the News of
your being come, has rais’d my Grandmother.
Enter _Lettice_, my Lady’s maid, and Lady _Youthly_.
_Geo._ A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.
_Ter._ I cou’d have spar’d her now too; but see she advances as swift as
Time.
_Geo._ And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you--
L. _Youth._ Where--where’s this Young Welcome Gentleman--Oh, are you
here, Sir--
[She sees him not, but runs upon him.
_Lettice_, take _Teresia_, and get you to your Chamber, she has her
Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we’ll make but one
work of both.
_Ter._ Ay, ‘twill save Charges, Madam--
L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou’d be private.
_Geo._ Heark ye--leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I’ll
follow you to your Chamber.
_Ter._ Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of
my mind, for I find there’s no dallying.
L. _Youth._ Well, Sir, I have finish’d the Great Work.
_Geo._ I wish you had--_Teresia_, once you made me hope you did not hate
me.
L. _Youth._ What says he, _Teresia_?
_Ter._ He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.
L. _Youth._ No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not
felt before.
_Geo._ Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear--You have too much Wit,
_Teresia_, to have been only pleas’d with the Embroider’d Coat, and
Gawdy Plume, when still the man’s the same.
L. _Youth._ What says he, Embroider’d Coat and Plume?
_Ter._ He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne’er the worse, for being
without those Fopperies.
L. _Youth._ Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband;
those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind
their Wives.
_Geo._ Are you so dull, _Teresia_, not to see, this Habit was put on,
only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?
L. _Youth._ Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young
Man--Well, well, I’ll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make
you happy, Mr. _Twang_ shall join us, Sir.
_Geo._ A blessed hearing--You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space
there is between this and the hast’ning hour; stand not on Virgin
Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.
_Ter._ I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need
Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that
was the first moment I saw you at the _Basset-Table_.
_Geo._ Ha! at the Basset-Table!
_Ter._ Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money--but no more--your
Time and Place.
L. _Youth._ What are you prating to him there?
_Ter._ He doubts your Love, Madam, and I’m confirming it.
L. _Youth._ Alas, good Gentleman!--anon I’ll convince him--for in the
Ev’ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
_Geo._ Ah, Madam, I cou’d wish ‘twere not so long defer’d, for sure I
love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here
prepar’d an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion
is sincere.
L. _Youth._ Good-lack-a-day, indeed you’re so obliging: But pray let us
have the Dance.
[Dance.
L. _Youth._ Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don’t droop, don’t
droop; come, hold up your Head--you may be allow’d one kiss beforehand.
_Geo._ [Kisses her.] Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there!
[Aside.
L. _Youth._ Come, come, _Teresia_, come with me.
_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] I’ll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that
shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint.
Get ready instantly.
_Ter._ And if I fail, may I be eternally damn’d to the Embraces of old
Age.
[Exeunt all but _George_.
_Geo._ _Mirtilla_, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father
the kind Cheat forgive;
_If I with dexterous charitable care_
_Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear._ [Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE I. _Welborn’s_ Chamber.
Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.
_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?
_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he ‘rose before day--What Letter’s this, Sir?
It lay upon your Toylet.
[Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.
_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_--
[Reads.
Hum--a Woman’s Hand-- [Opens it.
_The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with
you last Night. _Adieu_._
Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or
Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!
Enter _George_, fine.
--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou
know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_:
And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.
_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?
_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me
asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she
writ this Billet, and left it on my Table.
[Gives it _George_, he reads it.
_Geo._ By all that’s good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?
_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.
_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you
again?
_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.
_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she’s very honest, a Fortune, and
of Quality--and were’t not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.
_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne’er saw, and now ‘twill be too late.
_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.
_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that’s
good, I will resign her to thee.
_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.
_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--
_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to
marry her; for her Honour’s mine.
_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.
_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no
more--trust my Friendship--Go.
[Exit _Welborn_.
Enter _Olivia_.
_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may
yet be virtuous.
_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur’d, nor breaking
Morn ungaz’d at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.
_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World
talk shamefully.
_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.
_Geo._ No more--here’s _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with
_Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done,
I’ll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince
stirring?
_Man._ He’s in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir.
[Slides the Letter into _Olivia’s_ Hand as she passes out.
_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia? [Takes the Billet.
_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur’d Mistress, Sir.
_Geo._ ‘Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the
height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I’ll bring her Lover in the
height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.
_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me. [Aside.
_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II. _The Dressing-Room. Discovers the _Prince_ at his Toylet,
dressing. Musick and a Song._
Enter _George_, waits till the Song is ended. The _Prince_ sees
him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.
SONG, by Mr. _Gildon_.
I.
_Ah _Charmion!_ shroud those killing Eyes,
That dart th’ extremes of Pleasure,
Else _Celidon_, though favour’d, dies
As well as him that you despise,
Though with this diff’rent measure:
While lingring Pains drag on his Fate, }
Dispatch is all th’ Advantage of my State; }
For ah! you hill with Love, as well as Hate._ }
II.
_Abate thy Luxury of Charms,
And only Part discover;
Your Tongue, as well as Eyes, has Arms
To give a Thousand fatal Harms
To the poor listening Lover:
Thy Beams, like Glorys veil’d shou’d be,
And like the Front of Heav’n, unseen, pass by;
For to behold ‘em, in full force, we die._
_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, O! I faint, I die with thy Beauty’s Luxury! by
Heaven, I’m all Rapture, Love, and Joy: Such a dear Night,
_Lejere_!--Poets may fancy pressing Goddesses, on downy Beds of
Clouds--But oh, _Lejere_!--Those Gods were never half so blest as I!
_Geo._ What pity ‘twere to wake you from this Dream.
_Prince._ It is not in the power of Time nor Age: For even then
_Mirtilla_ will have Charms! Oh, how she speaks! how well she’ll grace a
Story!
_Geo._ How gay her Wit! how movingly she writes!
_Prince._ I do believe she does. [A little seriously.
_Geo._ Would it displease you, should you see a Billet from her?
_Prince._ That’s as it were directed. [Gravely.
_Geo._ You would not credit what you saw last Night.
_Prince._ Nor wou’d have lost that Night for all the Treasure the vast
Ocean hides.
_Geo._ I wou’d not have a Man, so good and great, be made a Woman’s
Property--There, Sir.
[Gives him the Billet.
_Prince._ I’ll not believe it her’s; there are a thousand ways to ruin
Innocence; if she be false--she’s damn’d. Confirm me, and of course I
shall despise her. You cure me, when you shew her worth my Scorn.
_Geo._ Will you be rul’d then, and believe it Friendship in me?
_Prince._ I will.
_Geo._ Give her, by Absence, but an Opportunity; feign some Excuse to
leave the Town to day.
_Prince._ See where she comes--
Enter _Mirtilla_.
Adorn’d with all the beauteous Wonders of her Sex. The Gods of Love are
playing in her Eyes, and give us Wounds from ev’ry graceful Motion. Ah,
my _Mirtilla_! how shall I support the Absence of a many coming Hours,
that languish, being from thee but a Moment?
_Mir._ I hope, my Lord, Fate is not so unkind, to let me live without
you many Hours.
_Prince._ Can all this be dissembl’d? [Aside to _George_.
_Geo._ How much more have I heard? yet all was false.
_Prince._ I must this Day--this tedious live-long Day, be absent from
thy Sight--but shall be back i’th’ Evening: I’ll leave _Lejere_ to wait
on your Commands.
_Mir._ _Lejere_ shall ever, Sir, be dear to me--But I’ll retire, and
sigh till your Return--that World affords no Pleasure where you are not.
_Prince._ Do you hear that, Sir? [Aside to _George_.
Till Night, thou dearest Blessing of my Life--Adieu.
[_Mirtilla_ going out, pulls _Lejere_ by the Sleeve.
_Mir._ Thou little, mischievous informing Thing, how vainly hast thou
lavish’d out Invention!
[Smiling. [Exit.
_Prince._ By Heaven, methinks ‘twere Sin but to suspect her.
_Geo._ Think so; I’ll trouble your Repose no more: I’ve done my Duty,
and I wou’d not see you made a--
_Prince._ Property--Ha--A loath’d convenient Tool--A Woman’s
Implement--’Sdeath! she that off--Loose to the nasty Love of every Fool,
that will be flatter’d, cozen’d, jilted, cuckolded--No more--I will,
unseen, convey my self into the Closet in my Dressing-Room; ‘tis near
her Bed--and if I find her wanton--
_Geo._ If you find her--the Youth is waiting now that shall convince
you.
_Prince._ Where?--Oh, set the happy Slave but in my View, and--
_Geo._ No, faith, Sir, be convinc’d before you strike, for fear she jilt
you out of Sense and Reason--
_Prince._ Come to my Closet, from thence we may observe all that passes
in her Chamber; from whence I’ll break upon the perjur’d Fair, like
Thunder from a Cloud, and more destructive.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. A Chamber. Draws and discovers _Mirtilla_ and _Manage_.
_Mir._ Is the Prince gone?
_Man._ Yes, Madam.
_Mir._ Then bring _Endimion_ to me.
_Man._ Madam, I wish you’d think no more of him; for I foresee, that
this Amour must ruin you. Remember you have left a Husband for the
Prince.
_Mir._ A Husband! my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of
careful Thoughts: My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my
Train--no more--but _Endimion_ waits.
[Exit _Manage_.
--There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to
this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self
to do him Justice--A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my
Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for
a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well
excuse our needful Perjury.
Enter _Manage_, and _Olivia_, she runs and embraces him.
--Let the young bashful Maid, unskill’d in Love, deny the pressing
Swain.
Let wither’d Age, who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear
Opportunities of Life.
The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be
snatch’d when offer’d.
_Oliv._ So hasty! this disarms me of Excuse. [Aside.
_Mir._ Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?
_Oliv._ So hot!--I must prepare to shew my Sex’s Evidence, if nothing
else will do.
[Unbuttons her Coat.
_Mir._ What, not a Word!
Advance, thou bashful Youth--Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart!
The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.
_Prince_ and _George_ looking out.
_Prince._ Yet stay me, my _Lejere_, from my hasty Vengeance.
_Oliv._ Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! ‘Tis not Coldness in me--but--
_Mir._ What, Bashfulness!
Oh, Love will lend thee Courage;
This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.
_Oliv._ Oh, how vilely she’s mistaken!
_Mir._ Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweetness
to ‘em than they bring.
[She leading him to her Bed, the _Prince_ enters, with _Lejere_,
holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.
_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a
Slave to faithless Beauty.
[The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her
Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.
_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav’n,
a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!
[This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt
_Olivia_.
_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.
_Mir._ Oh, Sir, ‘twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.
_Prince._ No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you
with another Lover.
[Gives _Olivia_ to her.
_Mir._ Ha! another Lover!--What means my Prince?
_Prince._ Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.
_Mir._ Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your
Feet, I do implore it.
[Kneels and weeps.
_Prince._ Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.--But yet be
gone--lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your
young Darling.
_Mir._ Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?
_Oliv._ Maid!--What means she? Sure she cannot know me.
_Prince._ Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and
Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.
_Mir._ Try ‘em once more, and then repent, and die.
[Opens _Olivia’s_ Bosom, shews her Breasts.
_Prince._ Ha--By Heav’n, a Woman!
_Mir._ You that wou’d smile at my suppos’d undoing, present yourself no
more before my Eyes.
‘Twas to perplex you that I feign’d this Passion.
I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief, [To _George_.
And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.--
And since I am thought so criminal, I’ll take an everlasting leave of
you.
[To the _Prince_.
When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I
have done--But may she never meet my wretched Fate.
[She snatches _Olivia’s_ Sword out.
_Prince._ Hold, thou most valu’d Treasure of the World, or turn the
pointed Weapon to my Heart.
_Mir._ No, I’m false, unworthy of your Love.
_Geo._ Yes, by Heaven. But thou hast jilted him so handsomly, thou’st
vanquish’d all my Rage.
_Mir._ Yes, I am false; false to this Gallant Man,-- [To _George_.
false to my Husband, to my Sex’s Fame; for you more charming, I alas
am perjur’d.
_Prince._ _Lejere_, have I then injur’d thee?
_Geo._ This is the fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often you have seen me
languish.
_Prince._ Ah! wouldst thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my
Danger?
_Geo._ To mightier Friendship I cou’d all surrender, and silently have
born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken’d all my Rage: but she has
out-trick’d me, and I beg her Pardon--And to secure her yours, have
lov’d anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid
whom I design to marry.
_Prince._ Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling
Injury I have done thee--And is this the charming, perjur’d Fair,
_Mirtilla_?
_Geo._ It is, Sir.
_Prince._ Since it is possible that you cou’d cease to love this Gallant
Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what
sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a
lasting Faith?--Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me--by all thy
Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart--once speak
the Truth--Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?
_Mir._ I did--and were she so, I wou’d with Pride own all the Vows I’ve
broke.
_Prince._ Why, this is fair--and though I buy this Knowledge at the vast
Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, ‘tis a better Bargain than
chaff’ring of a Heart for feign’d Embraces--Thou hast undone me--yet
must have my Friendship; and ‘twill be still some Ease in this Extreme,
to see thee yet repent, and love _Lejere_.
_Mir._ No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up
with a former Lover.
_Geo._ No, Sir, I have dispos’d my Heart another way; and the first
knowledge of her Falshood cur’d me: Her Marriage I forgave--that thing
of Form--but never could her Fondness to this Youth.
_Prince._ Who’s this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?
_Geo._ My Sister, Sir, who I disguis’d on purpose to be a Guard to this
suspected Fair One.
Enter _Welborn_.
_Wel._ Ha, she’s there!
Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress.--Nay, start not--I have
found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and
not afford me one kind hint.
_Oliv._ And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov’d and long’d, and
had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint?
_Wel._ Nay, if you conceal’d your precious Talent, how shou’d it profit
any body?
_Oliv._ Conceal’d it!--No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you
refus’d it, as not being current Coin.
_Wel._ But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our
Sovereign’s Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand
Signior’s, I may suspect the Metal too.
_Oliv._ What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?
_Wel._ I’ll take it for good Payment--I _Charles Welborn_--
_Oliv._ Ha, _Welborn_! [Aside.
_Wel._ Take thee--whom?--Gad, if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name
no better than I--’twill be but a blind Bargain.
_Geo._ _Olivia Marteen_--
_Wel._ My destin’d Wife!
_Geo._ The very same: Have you the Parson ready?
_Wel._ He waits in my Chamber.
_Oliv._ Madam, I beg you’ll lend me something more becoming my Sex.
_Mir._ _Manage_ will furnish you from my Wardrobe.
[Exit _Olivia_ with _Manage_.
Enter _Teresia_.
_Geo._ And see my good Genius appears too.
_Ter._ See, Sir, I am resolv’d to be welcome to your Arms; look, here
are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here’s three
thousand Pound my Grandmother has settled on me, upon her Marriage with
you.
[Gives him the Writings.
_Geo._ And here’s my Father’s Estate settled on me--Come, let’s put them
together--and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us.
[Puts ‘em in her Case.
_Ter._ But have you very well considered this Matter?
_Geo._ Teresia, we’ll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider
afterwards--
[Leads her in.
Enter a Footman.
_Foot._ Sir, here’s Sir _Merlin_, with a Lady mask’d, wou’d speak with
you.
_Wel._ Carry ‘em into the Dining-Room, I’ll wait on ‘em anon.
[Exeunt _Omnes_.
SCENE IV. _My Lady _Youthly’s_; Discovers her, and _Lettice_ dressing
her._
L. _Youth._ Hold the Glass higher, _Lettice_; is not this Tour too
brown?--Methinks it does not give a youthful Aire to my Face.
_Lett._ That’s not in Nature.
L. _Youth._ Like Nature! Ay, but Nature’s self wants Art, nor does this
Fontange suit with my Complexion--put on a little more red, _Lettice_,
on my Cheeks, and Lips.
[She does so.
_Lett._ Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the
_Coventry_-Blue--This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the
Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes--
[Pulls it.
L. _Youth._ Ay, _Lettice_, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor
Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fear--yet altogether, _Lettice_--
[Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.
Enter _Sir Rowland_.
Sir _Row._ What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom?
L. _Youth._ Ay, what can be the meaning of this?
Sir _Row._ But _Teresia_, Madam, where can she be gadding?
L. _Youth._ Why, _Lettice_ tells me, she went to buy some Trifles to
adorn her this Night--Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.
Enter Mr. _Twang_.
_Twang._ Alas, what pity ‘tis; the Supper is quite spoil’d, and no
Bridegroom come!
_A Noise of hallowing without, and Musick._
Enter Lady _Blunder_.
L. _Blun._ Bless us! Here’s a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and
Flambeaux at the Door! the Fops of the Town have heard of a Wedding, and
are come in Masquerade.
Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince _Frederick_, leading
_Mirtilla_, _George_ leading _Teresia_; Sir _Merlin_, _Diana_;
Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_; Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade.
Sir _Morgan_ comes in, all in Mourning; _Welborn_, and _Olivia_.
Sir _Mer._ Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the saying
is) to give you Joy. Sir, are not you the Bridegroom?
_Ter._ Where’s your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!
Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay, where’s your Bride?
Sir _Row._ What’s that to you, _Sir_ Coxcomb?
Sir _Mer._ Hum--how the devil came he to know me now?--Is this reverend
Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?
Sir _Row._ Ounds, they come to mock us!--Hark ye, hark ye, Tawdrums, if
you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and
be gone, d’ye hear.--We are not at leisure for Fooling.
_Geo._ Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon [_George_ kneels.
this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I’ll dedicate to
please and humour you. Sir, I am marry’d.
[Pulls off his Mask.
Sir _Row._ What the Devil’s that to me, Sir?
_Geo._ Do not you know me, Sir?
Sir _Row._ No, Sir, nor don’t care to know any such flaunting Coxcombs.
_Geo._ Look on me, Sir.
[Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.
Sir _Row._ Hum, hum, hum--
_Ter._ It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav’d your Life
from Insolence.
Sir _Row._ Hum--_Teresia_!
L. _Youth._ How, _Teresia_! what, robb’d me of my intended Husband? Oh,
undone! undone!
[Falls into a Chair.
Sir _Row._ And hast thou, after all, served me such a Rogue’s Trick,
thou ungracious Varlet? What, cuckold thine own Father!
_Geo._ Oh, do not frown, I cannot bear your Anger! Here will I hang for
ever till you Pardon me.
[Clasps his Knees.
Sir _Row._ Look--look--now cannot I be angry with the good-natur’d young
Rogue.
[Weeps.
Well, _George_--But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a damn’d Trick of yours.
_Geo._ Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and
you’ll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting as you would of a Son
of another Man’s perhaps.
Sir _Row._ Thou’rt in the Right on’t.
Sir _Mer._ Ha! Is Monsieur _Lejere_ then my Brother _George_?
_Geo._ Sir, Here’s another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother
_Merlin_, and my Lady _Diana_.
L. _Blun._ _Diana_! What, Sir _Harry Modish’s_ Mistress?
_Dia._ Yes, he pawn’d me at the _Basset-Table_; and, in Revenge,
I resolv’d to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.
Sir _Row._ The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I’ll
give him a Thousand Pound a Year.
_Geo._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
_Mir._ Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?
Sir _Morg._ Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but
rest her Soul, she’s burnt.
[Weeps.
And I shall never see any thing again like her.
_Mir._ No! What think you of this Face, Sir?
Sir _Morg._ As Gad shall sa’ me, as like as if the same.
L. _Blun._ In troth, and so she is.
_Prince._ ‘Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv’d her
from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.
Sir _Morg._ That’s a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife,
because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?
_Prince._ Lover’s Law, Sir.
L. _Blun._ Ay, ay, Son, ‘tis the Fashion to marry one Week, and separate
the next. I’ll set you a President for it my self.
[In this time _Welborn_ kneels with _Olivia_; _Sir Rowland_ takes
‘em up, and kisses ‘em.
Sir _Morg._ Nay, if it be the Fashion, I’ll e’en into the Country, and
be merry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.
_Prince._ But now, Sir, I’ll resign my Right to you, and content myself
with the Honour to have preserv’d her from the Fire.
[_Prince_ delivers _Mirtilla_ to Sir _Morgan_, who receives her.
Sir _Morg._ As gad shall sa’ me, Sir, you’re a civil Person; and now I
find you can endure a Woman, Sir, I’ll give you leave to visit her.
Sir _Row._ Well, since we’re all agreed, and that the Fiddles are here,
adsnigs, we’ll have a Dance, Sweet-heart, though thou hast out-witted
me.
[Takes _Teresia_, _George_ takes Lady _Youthly_, &c. After the
Dance, Lady _Youthly_ weeps.
_Geo._ What, weeping yet? Here, Mr. _Twang_, take the Lady to your Care;
in these Cases, there’s nothing like the Consolation of your young
Chaplain.
The Widow, with young Jointure, and old Face,
Affected Mein, and Amorous Grimace,
Uses to fall to th’ younger Brother’s share; }
But I by Fortune, and Industrious Care, }
Have got one that’s Rich, Witty, Young, and Fair. }
_FINIS._
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Mr. _Horden_.
We’ve grown Impatient to be out of pain,
And fain wou’d know our fortune, loss, or gain:
The Merchants phrase mayn’t be Improper now,
If ye our City Character allow.
But some Spruse Criticks, I hear, swears ‘tis strange,
To take a powder’d Beau off from the Exchange;
A place more fam’d for Band, and dress precise,
For greasy Cuckholds, Stockjobbers, and lies,
Than for a Spark o’ th’ town, but now a days
The Cit sets up in box, puffs, perfumes, plays,
And tho’ he passes for a Man of Trade,
Is the chief squeaker at the Masquerade,
Let him his Sister, or his wife beware,
‘Tis not for nothing Courtiers go so far;
Thus for a while he holds, till Cash is found
To be a Dr. many a woful Pound,
Then off he moves, and in another year,
Turns true Alsatian, or Solicitor.
For we (except o’ th’ stage) shall seldom find
To a poor broken Beau, a Lady kind,
Whilst pow’rful _Guinea_ last, he’s wondrous pretty,
And much the finest Gentlemen o’ th’ City,
But when fob’s empty, he’s an odious Creature.
Fough, how he stinks! h’as not one taking feature,
Then such an Awkard mein, and vulgar sence,
I vow, I wonder at his Impudence!
‘Tis well _Lejere_ appear’d, _George_ owes the prize
To the Gay Monsieur, Footmen and Disguise,
Charms which few English Women can withstand,
What can’t a Man of Quality command?
As to the faults, or Merits of the Play }
We leave ye to be judges of, yet say, }
Ye ought in justice to be kind to day. }
For to our Cost alas, we soon shall find, }
Perhaps not half the money ye design’d, }
Consider, Sirs, it goes to be refin’d. }
And since in all Exchanges ‘tis a notion,
For what ye take to be in due proportion,
So may we justly hope no wrong is done ye
If ye have _par of Wit for par of Money_.
* * * * *
* * * *
NOTES: The Younger Brother
NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+Dedication+
p. 316, l. 1 _The Epistle Dedicatory._ This only appears in 4to 1696.
It is there followed by _An Account of the Life of the Incomparable
Mrs. BEHN_, an entirely worthless composition of some three pages,
afterwards vastly expanded into _Memoirs_ ‘by one of the Fair Sex’.
p. 316, l. 21 _The narrow Virtues ... [which] were._ 4to 1696 omits
‘which’ but it is necessary that this or some similar word be inserted
to make the paragraph sufficiently grammatical.
+Prologue+
p. 319, l. 9 _an Intriguer._ 4to 1696 ‘the intrigues’.
p. 319, l. 17 _Mistress young._ 4to 1696 erroneously gives ‘young’ as
a proper name ‘Mistress Young’.
+Dramatis Personæ+
p. 321 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added ‘Philip; Diana; Pages,
Footmen, Masqueraders, Servants, Rakehells, &c.’ 4to 1696 spells
Britton ‘Brittone’. Mr. Pinketham ‘Mr. Pinkerman.’ Powell is
indifferently spelt ‘Powell’ or ‘Powel’.
+ACT I: Scene i+
p. 327, l. 2 _he._ 4to 1696 omits.
p. 327, l. 7 _Prince._ Here and in ll. 11 and 19 all former editions
give speech-prefix ‘Fred’, but afterwards uniformly ‘Prince’
throughout the play.
p. 329, l. 31 _a._ 4to 1696 omits.
p. 329, l. 34 _Tablets_: 4to 1696 gives ‘Tablets write:’ which is
obviously a misprint for ‘Tablets written:’ or, perhaps, ‘Tablets
writ’.
+ACT I: Scene ii+
p. 330, l. 23 _Caudle._ Here, and in the following line, 4to 1696
misprints ‘Candle’.
p. 332, l. 22 _set._ 1724 ‘sit’.
p. 337, l. 7 _Sir Mer._ 4to 1696 misprints ‘Sir Mark.’
p. 337, l. 19 _George Kneels._ I have inserted ‘George’.
p. 337, l. 20 _Ay, Sir._ 4to 1696 marks this line ‘Aside.’ An obvious
error.
p. 338, l. 10 _Sir Rowland._ 4to 1696 ‘Sir Merlin’.
p. 338, l. 16 _Chaplain [Mr. Twang], and leaning._ 4to 1696 ‘her
Chaplain, and leaning’. I have inserted Twang’s name and given in
l. 19 speech-prefix ‘Twang’ which all former editions mark ‘Chap.’,
altering, however, to ‘Twang’ later in this scene at ‘Truly, Madam’.
p. 339, l. 20 _cuckold._ 4to 1696 ‘Cuckhold’.
p. 339, l. 34 _The End of the First Act._ Only in 4to 1696.
+ACT II: Scene i+
p. 340, l. 2 _Sir Rowland’s Lodging._ I have supplied this locale.
p. 340, l. 29 _Lookye._ 4to 1696 has ‘(Alone.) Lookye’--an obvious
error. ‘(Alone.)’ is probably a misprint for ‘(Aloud.)’ which is of
itself quite unnecessary.
p. 341, l. 13 _Hearts._ 4to 1696 ‘Heats’.
p. 342, l. 3 _’.will._ 4to 1696 ‘will’.
p. 342, l. 19 _India._ 4to 1696 ‘Indian’.
+ACT II: Scene ii+
p. 343, l. 13 _A Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
p. 346, l. 17 _Hackney-Coach._ 4to 1696 ‘Hackney’.
p. 346, l. 31 _pimp._ 4to 1696 misprints ‘Pump’.
p. 348, l. 8 _they._ 4to 1696 omits.
p. 349, l. 29 _Sir Morgan Blunder’s._ 4to 1696 ‘Sir M. Blun.’
+ACT II: Scene iii+
p. 350, l. 24 _Another Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
p. 351, l. 10 _another._ 4to 1696 adds to this stage direction ‘Sir
Mer. together.’
p. 352, l. 7 _a Tendre._ 1724 omits ‘a’.
+ACT III: Scene i+
p. 353, l. 11 _too._ 4to 1696 ‘to’.
p. 354, l. 2 _A rich Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
p. 358, l. 4 _Expectations._ 1724 ‘Expectation’.
p. 358, l. 34 _Olivia enters._ 4to 1696 reads ‘Enter Olivia with a
letter. Olivia gives Welborn the letter.’
p. 359, l. 33 _Enter Sir Morgan._ Before the couplet 4to 1696
repeats ‘Sir Morg. and Sir Merl. singing.’
p. 360, l. 10 _de._ 1724 here and elsewhere ‘d’ye’.
+ACT III: Scene ii+
p. 362, l. 18 _you._ 4to 1696 ‘thou’.
+ACT III: Scene iii+
p. 363, l. 17 _Whither?_ 4to 1696 ‘Whether?’
p. 367, l. 26 _Exeunt._ I have added this stage direction.
+ACT IV: Scene i+
p. 370, l. 30 _Exit Prince with Mirtilla._ Former editions ‘and
Mirtilla’.
p. 371, l. 14 _Exit._ 4to 1696 ‘Exit George.’
p. 373, l. 15 _Exeunt._ 4to 1696 ‘Exit both.’
p. 373, l. 23 _of thy hopes._ 4to 1696 omits ‘of’.
p. 373, l. 32 _ruffle, ravish, and ruin._ 4to 1696 ‘Ruffles, Ravishes,
and Ruines’.
p. 374, l. 8 _Racks._ 4to 1696 ‘Wrecks’.
p. 374, l. 35 _feebly._ 1724 ‘freely’. A patent error.
p. 375, l. 4 _near to being._ 1724 ‘near being’.
p. 375, l. 33 _Exeunt._ Not in 4to 1696.
+ACT IV: Scene ii+
p. 376, l. 1 _Scene II._ I have numbered this scene, and the
following (p. 378, l. 16.) Scene III.
+ACT IV: Scene iii+
p. 379, l. 33 _Sir Merlin with his Sword._ 4to 1696 ‘Sir Merlin his
Sword’.
p. 380, l. 19 _she cries out._ 1724 omits ‘out’.
p. 381, l. 17 _My Lady’s maid._ I have inserted these words.
+ACT V: Scene i+
p. 383, l. 27 _Welborn’s Chamber._ I have marked this locale.
p. 385, l. 13 _him._ 1724 ‘them’.
+ACT V: Scene ii+
p. 386, l. 18 _has._ 4to 1696 ‘had’.
p. 386, l. 24 _Mirtilla._ All previous editions here have ‘Lydia’,
which makes no sense. It is probable that the original name of
Mirtilla was Lydia, and Mrs. Behn, or Gildon, neglected to alter it
in this passage.
+ACT V: Scene iii+
p. 388, l. 28 _Scene III._ All previous editions have ‘Scene
discovers Mirtilla and Manage.’
p. 388, l. 35 _you have left._ 1724 ‘you left’.
p. 393, l. 17 _Exit Olivia with Manage._ I have added Manage’s name
here.
+ACT V: Scene iv+
p. 394, l. 1 _Scene IV._ I have numbered this scene.
+Epilogue+
p. 398, l. 26 _Fough, how he stinks!_ 4to 1696 ‘Fough, he how he
stinks?’
NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+Dedication+
p. 316 _Collonel Codrington._ Christopher Codrington (1668-1710) was
born at Barbadoes, and thence sent to England to be educated. In 1685
he passed as a gentleman commoner to Christ Church, Oxford. Five years
later he was elected as a probationer fellow to All Souls. Here he
speedily became known for the catholicity and thoroughness of his
studies, and ‘soon acquir’d the deserv’d character of an accomplished,
well-bred gentleman, and an universal scholar’. He was already an
enthusiastic bibliophile. In 1694 he followed William III to Flanders,
and having fought with great gallantry at Hay and Namur in 1695,
received various military distinctions. In the same year he attended
the King to Oxford, and pronounced the university oration on this
royal visit. There are dedications to him by Creech, Dennis, and
others, but it has been pertinently remarked that ‘his fame is rather
to be inferred’ hence ‘than from actually existent performances on his
part’, albeit we have copies of complimentary verses (e.g. prefixed to
Garth’s _Dispensary_) from his pen. In 1697 he succeeded his father as
commander-in-chief of the Leeward Isles. He does not seem to have been
popular, and resigned in 1703, retiring to a life of seclusion and
study on his Barbadoes estate. He died 7 April, 1710, and his body was
brought back to England to be buried in All Souls’ chapel. To this
college he left £10,000, and £6,000 worth of books, a legacy which
built, furnished and endowed the magnificent Codrington library there.
p. 317 _Mr. Verbruggen’s reading some of his part._ One may remember
the incident recorded by Pepys (2 February, 1669), how, after Kynaston
had been assaulted by Sedley’s bravos, and was too ill to appear, the
young actor’s rôle was ‘done by Beeston, who is fain to read it out of
a book all the while and thereby spoils the part, and almost the play,
it being one of the best parts in it.... But it was pleasant to see
Beeston come in with others, supposing it to be dark, and yet he is
forced to read his part by the light of the candles: and this I
observing to a gentleman that sat by me, he was mightily pleased
therewith, and spread it up and down.’
+Prologue+
p. 319 _grave Sir Roger._ ‘Sir Roger’ was a common nickname for any
clergyman from the well-known comic character ‘Sir Roger, Curate to
the Lady’, in Beaumont and Fletcher’s popular _The Scornful Lady_.
This excellent play, a rare favourite with Restoration audiences, kept
the boards until the death of Mrs. Oldfield in 1730. After the great
actress’ demise it would seem that none of her successors ventured
to attempt the title-rôle, hence the piece soon fell out of the
repertory. In 1783, however, an alteration, made by Cooke the
barrister for Mrs. Abington, was produced with great success at
Covent Garden. In this meagre adaptation the Curate disappears. Shanks
originally acted this part, but Lacy was the acknowledged ‘Sir Roger’
in Restoration days.
+ACT I: Scene i+
p. 326 _making Wax Babies._ Playing at dolls.
p. 330 _Southampton Square._ The original name of Bloomsbury Square,
so called from the Earl of Southampton’s town residence, afterwards
Bedford House. Southampton Square was at this period, and for long
afterwards, the headquarters of fashion in the metropolis: _vide_
further, Vol. III, _The Town Fop_, p. 22, ‘Southampton House,’ and
note on that passage (p. 476).
+ACT I: Scene ii+
p. 331 _Mr. Motteux._ Peter Anthony Motteux was a French Hugenot who
came to England upon the restoration of the Edict of Nantes (1685).
He soon mixed with the gayest society, and became well known as a
prolific writer of songs, prologues, epilogues, masques, and the
lighter dramatic fare. Much of this work is not lacking in wit and
volatile smartness, but it is all far too ephemeral to have any
permanent value as literature. He edited _The Gentleman’s Journal_,
but is perhaps best remembered for his translation of _Don Quixote_,
and his concluding Urquhart’s version of Rabelais.
p. 331 _the Rose._ This celebrated house stood in Russell Street,
Covent Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable
references to it. The greater portion of the ‘Rose’ was demolished
in 1776, when a new front was being built to the theatre.
p. 331 _scours._ i.e. violently assaults. ‘To scour’ was to rampage
the streets, breaking windows, fighting with passers-by, beating the
watch, &c. Shadwell has an excellent comedy, _The Scowrers_ (1691),
which, giving a vivid picture of the times, show these drunken and
blackguardly gentry in a very unamiable light. Several plays treat
of their exploits. Vanbrugh’s _The Provoked Wife_ (1696), Act III,
ii, and IV, ii and iv, is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking.
p. 333 _the Poet Sternhold._ Thomas Sternhold (_ob._ 1549), was the
author with John Hopkins (_ob._ 1570), of a metrical version of the
Psalms, which became a bye-word for doggerel. Sir Morgan is, of
course, alluding to some pious rhymes groaned on the way to the
triple tree. cf. Shadwell, _The Miser_ (1672), I, i, ‘She would be
more welcome to thee than a reprieve would, if thou wert just now
trolling out Hopkins and Sternhold upon a ladder.’
p. 333 _Billmen in Flannel._ Bills were the common weapon of the
watch. cf. _The Coxcomb_ (folio 1647), Act I, where Ricardo says
to the constable of the watch, ‘Give me the bill, for I’ll be the
sergeant.’ Doctor Johnson tells us that the Lichfield watchmen carried
bills as late as 1778.
p. 333 _Wills’ Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
note on that passage (p. 446).
p. 334 _The Country Justice’s Calling._ _vide supra_, _The Widow
Ranter_, p. 265. _Dalton’s Country Justice_, and note on that passage.
+ACT II: Scene i+
p. 341 _by Inch of Candle._ An auction where bids are taken so long
as an inch of candle burns, the last bid before the flame expires
obtaining the lot.
p. 342 _a Termer._ Originally a frequenter of the law courts, and as
many came up from the country to London during term time on legal
business, it occasionally (as here) signified an unsophisticated
stranger. In Dryden’s _Sir Martin Mar-All_ (1667), I, Mrs. Millicent,
newly arrived from Canterbury, replies to Lady Dupe’s greeting,
‘I came up, Madam, as we country-gentlewomen use at an Easter term, to
the destruction of tarts and cheese cakes, to see a new play, buy a
new gown, take a turn in the Park, and so down again to sleep with my
forefathers.’ In Mountford’s farce, _Dr. Faustus_ (4to 1697, but
produced at the Theatre Royal November-December, 1685, or very early
in 1686), we have Scaramouch asking what practice the Doctor has, and
Harlequin replies: ‘Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores
against the Term for Country Lawyers and Attorneys Clerks; and against
_Christmas_, _Easter_, and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices.’
cf. Southerne’s _Oroonoko_ (1696), I, i, when Charlot Welldon says to
her sister Lucia, ‘Nay, the young Inns-of-Court beaus, of but one
Term’s standing in the fashion, who knew nobody but as they were shown
‘em by the orange-women, had nicknames for us.’ More often a Termer
meant ‘A person, whether male or female, who resorted to London in
term time only, for the sake of tricks to be practised, or intrigues
to be carried on at that period.’ --(Nares.)
+ACT II: Scene ii+
p. 347 _Sa._ i.e. Save us! Sir Morgan has a frequent exclamation ‘God
sa me!’ God save me! The abbreviation is early and frequent.
+ACT III: Scene i+
p. 356 _the Country of True Love._ Mrs. Behn, an omnivorous reader
of romances, was thinking of the celebrated _Carte de Tendre_
(Loveland), to be found in Mlle. de Scudéri’s _Clélie_ (1654, Vol. I,
p. 399), and reproduced in the English folio edition of 1678. This
fantastic map, which is said to have been suggested by Chapelain,
aroused unbounded ridicule. In scene iv of Molière’s _Les Précieuses
Ridicules_ (1659), Cathos cries, ‘Je m’en vais gager qu’ils n’ont
jamais vu la carte de Tendre, et que Billets-Doux, Petits-Soins,
Billets-Galante, et Jolis-Vers sont des terres inconnues pour eux.’
This imaginary land is divided by the River of Inclination: on the
one side are the towns of Respect, Generosity, A Great Heart, and the
like; on the other Constant Friendship, Assiduity, Submission, &c.
Across the Dangerous Sea another continent is marked, ‘Countreys
undiscovered.’ _Terra Incognita._
The extravagant penchant for romances of the Scudéri _Parthenissa_
school was amply satirized by Steele in his clever comedy _The Tender
Husband_ (1705), and as late as 1752 by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox in _The
Female Quixote_, an amusing novel.
p. 360 _old Queen Bess in the Westminster-Cupboard._ The waxen
effigies which yet remain at Westminster are preserved in the wainscot
presses over the Islip Chapel. Queen Elizabeth, in her tattered velvet
robes, is still one of the most famous. They were formerly far more
numerous. A waxen figure of the deceased, dressed in the habit worn
whilst living, was, in the case of any royal or notable personage,
very frequently carried as part of the torchlight funeral procession
and, after the obsequies, left over the grave to serve as a kind of
temporary monument.
+ACT III: Scene iii+
p. 366 _drink up the Sun._ i.e. carouse till dawn.
+ACT IV: Scene iii+
p. 379 _a Back like an Elephant--’twill bear a Castle._ Dr. Aldis
Wright, in his notes on _Twelfth Night_, draws attention to the fact
that the celebrated ‘Elephant and Castle,’ at Newington, in the south
suburbs of London, can be traced back to the middle of the seventeenth
century.
p. 380 _Old Queen Gwiniver._ For ‘Queen Gwiniver’ applied as a term of
abuse to an old woman cf. Dekker’s _Satiromastix, or, The Untrussing
of the Humorous Poet_ (4to 1602), III, i, where Tucca rallying
Mistress Miniver cries: ‘Now, now, mother Bunch, how dost thou? what,
dost frowne, Queen Gwyniver, dost wrinckle?’ The reference is, of
course, to Arthur’s queen.
+ACT V: Scene iii+
p. 390 _Ha! what do I see?_ cf. The incident in _The Plain Dealer_,
IV, ii, of which there are obvious reminiscences here. Olivia, making
love to Fidelia, who is dressed as a boy, is surprised by Vernish.
Olivia runs out, and he discovering the supposed lad to be a woman
proceeds to turn the tables on his spouse.
+ACT V: Scene iv+
p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. ‘your false Towers’, _The False Count_, I, ii
(Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
p. 394 _Fontange._ A ‘fontange’ was a bow of ribbons, so called from
the celebrated Madame de Fontanges. Her hair coming down during a
hunting-party at Vincennes, she tied it up hastily with one of her
garters. Louis XIV, whose mistress she was, so admired the result that
he begged her to continue to wear her hair in the same way. This set
the fashion, which soon spread into England and long remained popular.
cf. Shadwell’s _Bury Fair_ (1689), II, ii: ‘_Milliner._ What d’ye
lack, Ladies? fine Mazarine hoods, fontanges, girdles, sable tippets?’
p. 394 _Coventry-Blue._ A kind of blue thread manufactured at Coventry
and formerly much used for embroidery, &c. cf. Greene’s _James IV_
(1592), IV, iii, where Slipper ordering a doublet cries: ‘Edge me the
sleeves with Coventry blue.’ Ben Jonson, _Gipsies Metamorph._ (1621),
speaks of ‘A skein of Coventry blue’.
p. 395 _Tawdrums._ Fal-lals. cf. Marston’s _Dutch Courtezan_ (4to
1605), v, ‘no matter for lace and tawdrums’.
* * * * *
* * * *
Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Younger Brother_
p. 330 _Southampton Square._ .... _vide_ further, Vol. III, _The Town
Fop_, p. 22, ‘Southampton House,’ and note on that passage (p. 476).
_Town Fop_ text:
meet me to morrow Morning about five, with your Sword in your Hand,
behind _Southampton_ House
_Town Fop_ note:
_Southampton House._ Southampton House, Bloomsbury, occupied the whole
of the north side of the present Bloomsbury Square. It had ‘a curious
garden behind, which lieth open to the fields,’--_Strype_. A great
rendezvous for duellists, cf. Epilogue to Mountfort’s _Greenwich Park_
(Drury Lane, 1691) spoken by Mrs. Mountfort:--
If you’re displeased with what you’ve seen to-night
Behind Southampton House we’ll do you right;
Who is’t dares draw ‘gainst me and Mrs. Knight?
p. 333 _Wills’ Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
_Lucky Chance_ text:
a Wit of the Town, a Friend of mine at Wills Coffee House
_Lucky Chance_ note:
_Wills Coffee House._ This famous coffee-house was No. 1 Bow Street,
Covent Garden, on the west side corner of Russell Street. It derived
its name from Will Unwin who kept it. The wits’ room was upstairs on
the first floor. Some of its reputation was due to the fact that it
was a favourite resort of Dryden.
p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
_Lucky Chance_ text:
I will be kinder to my Brothers of the Pen, than they have been to a
defenceless Woman; for I am not content to write for a Third day only.
_Lucky Chance_ note:
_write for a Third day only._ The whole profits of the third day’s
performance went to the author of the play; and upon these occasions
his friends and patrons would naturally rally to support him. There
are numberless allusions to this custom, especially in Prefaces,
Prologues and Epilogues.
p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
note on that passage (p. 446).
_Rover II_ text:
For your parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread and old
Adam’s Ale is only current amongst ye
_Rover II_ note:
_old Adam’s Ale._ A very ancient colloquialism for water. In
Scotland ‘Adam’s wine’ and frequently merely ‘Adam’. Prynne in his
_Sovereign Power of Parliament_ (1648), speaks of prisoners
‘allowed only a poor pittance of Adam’s ale.’ cf. Peter Pindar (John
Wolcot), _The Lousiad_, Canto ii, ll. 453-4:--
Old Adam’s beverage flows with pride
From wide-mouthed pitchers in a plenteous tide.]
p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. ‘your false Towers’, _The False Count_, I, ii
(Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
_False Count_ text:
you must be a Lady, and have your Petticoats lac’d four Stories high;
wear your false Towers, and cool your self with your _Spanish_ Fan
_False Count_ note:
_Towers._ The tower at this time was a curled frontlet of false
hair. cf. Crowne’s _The Country Wit_ (1675), Act II, ii, where Lady
Faddle cries to her maid, ‘run to my milliner’s for my gloves and
essences ... run for my new towre.’ Shadwell, _The Virtuoso_ (1676),
Act III, mentions ‘Tires for the head, locks, tours, frouzes, and so
forth’. _The Debauchee_ (1677), Act II, i: Mrs. Saleware speaks of
buying ‘fine clothes, and tours, and Points and knots.’ _The Younger
Brother_ (1696), Act V, the last scene, old Lady Youthly anxiously
asks her maid, ‘is not this Tour too brown?’ During the reign of
Mary II and particularly in the time of Anne a Tower meant almost
exclusively the high starched head-dress in vogue at that period.
* * * * *
* * * *
Errors and Irregularities: The Younger Brother
In the Notes, alternation between .’ and ‘. at paragraph-end is as
printed. The abbreviation “cf.” is always lower-case.
Dedication
for tho suffering Merit [_elsewhere tho’ with apostrophe_]
The Younger Brother
a fighting, whining Lover’s Company [fighing]
Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_ [_“and” non-Italic (emphatic)_]
_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] [_italics/roman reversed in stage direction_]
[Smiling. [Exit.
[_bracket before “Exit” added for consistency in e-text_]
Notes on the Text
p. 338, l. 10 [p. 331]
Critical Notes
is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking
[_text unchanged: usual term is “locus classicus”_]
Wills’ Coffee-house [_body text has Will’s_]
* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
_Printed by_ A. H. BULLEN, _at the Shakespeare Head Press,
Stratford-upon-Avon._