THE OLD BACHELOR

 _Quem tulit ad scenam ventoso Gloria curru_, _Exanimat lentus spectator_; _sedulus inflat_: _Sic leve_, _sic parvum est_, _animum quod laudis avarum_ _Subruit_, _and reficit_. 

 HORAT. _Epist. _ I. Lib. Ii. 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES, LORD CLIFFORD OF LANESBOROUGH, etc. 

My Lord, --It is with a great deal of pleasure that I lay hold on thisfirst occasion which the accidents of my life have given me of writing toyour lordship: for since at the same time I write to all the world, itwill be a means of publishing (what I would have everybody know) therespect and duty which I owe and pay to you. I have so much inclinationto be yours that I need no other engagement. But the particular ties bywhich I am bound to your lordship and family have put it out of my powerto make you any compliment, since all offers of myself will amount to nomore than an honest acknowledgment, and only shew a willingness in me tobe grateful. 

I am very near wishing that it were not so much my interest to be yourlordship's servant, that it might be more my merit; not that I wouldavoid being obliged to you, but I would have my own choice to run me intothe debt: that I might have it to boast, I had distinguished a man towhom I would be glad to be obliged, even without the hopes of having itin my power ever to make him a return. 

It is impossible for me to come near your lordship in any kind and not toreceive some favour; and while in appearance I am only making anacknowledgment (with the usual underhand dealing of the world) I am atthe same time insinuating my own interest. I cannot give your lordshipyour due, without tacking a bill of my own privileges. 'Tis true, if aman never committed a folly, he would never stand in need of aprotection. But then power would have nothing to do, and good nature nooccasion to show itself; and where those qualities are, 'tis pity theyshould want objects to shine upon. I must confess this is no reason whya man should do an idle thing, nor indeed any good excuse for it whendone; yet it reconciles the uses of such authority and goodness to thenecessities of our follies, and is a sort of poetical logic, which atthis time I would make use of, to argue your lordship into a protectionof this play. It is the first offence I have committed in this kind, orindeed, in any kind of poetry, though not the first made public, andtherefore I hope will the more easily be pardoned. But had it beenacted, when it was first written, more might have been said in itsbehalf: ignorance of the town and stage would then have been excuses in ayoung writer, which now almost four years' experience will scarce allowof. Yet I must declare myself sensible of the good nature of the town, in receiving this play so kindly, with all its faults, which I must ownwere, for the most part, very industriously covered by the care of theplayers; for I think scarce a character but received all the advantage itwould admit of from the justness of the action. 

As for the critics, my lord, I have nothing to say to, or against, any ofthem of any kind: from those who make just exceptions, to those who findfault in the wrong place. I will only make this general answer in behalfof my play (an answer which Epictetus advises every man to make forhimself to his censurers), viz. : 'That if they who find some faults init, were as intimate with it as I am, they would find a great many more. 'This is a confession, which I needed not to have made; but however, I candraw this use from it to my own advantage: that I think there are nofaults in it but what I do know; which, as I take it, is the first stepto an amendment. 

Thus I may live in hopes (sometime or other) of making the town amends;but you, my lord, I never can, though I am ever your lordship's mostobedient and most humble servant, WILL. CONGREVE. 

TO MR. CONGREVE. 

When virtue in pursuit of fame appears, And forward shoots the growth beyond the years. We timely court the rising hero's cause, And on his side the poet wisely draws, Bespeaking him hereafter by applause. The days will come, when we shall all receiveReturning interest from what now we give, Instructed and supported by that praiseAnd reputation which we strive to raise. Nature so coy, so hardly to be wooed, Flies, like a mistress, but to be pursued. O Congreve! boldly follow on the chase:She looks behind and wants thy strong embrace:She yields, she yields, surrenders all her charms, Do you but force her gently to your arms:Such nerves, such graces, in your lines appear, As you were made to be her ravisher. Dryden has long extended his command, By right divine, quite through the muses' land, Absolute lord; and holding now from none, But great Apollo, his undoubted crown. That empire settled, and grown old in powerCan wish for nothing but a successor:Not to enlarge his limits, but maintainThose provinces, which he alone could gain. His eldest Wycherly, in wise retreat, Thought it not worth his quiet to be great. Loose, wand'ring Etherege, in wild pleasures tost, And foreign int'rests, to his hopes long lost:Poor Lee and Otway dead! Congreve appears, The darling, and last comfort of his years. May'st thou live long in thy great master's smiles, And growing under him, adorn these isles. But when--when part of him (be that but late)His body yielding must submit to fate, Leaving his deathless works and thee behind(The natural successor of his mind), Then may'st thou finish what he has begun:Heir to his merit, be in fame his son. What thou hast done, shews all is in thy pow'r, And to write better, only must write more. 'Tis something to be willing to commend;But my best praise is, that I am your friend, THO. SOUTHERNE. 

TO MR. CONGREVE. 

The danger's great in these censorious days, When critics are so rife to venture praise:When the infectious and ill-natured broodBehold, and damn the work, because 'tis good, And with a proud, ungenerous spirit, tryTo pass an ostracism on poetry. But you, my friend, your worth does safely bearAbove their spleen; you have no cause for fear;Like a well-mettled hawk, you took your flightQuite out of reach, and almost out of sight. As the strong sun, in a fair summer's day, You rise, and drive the mists and clouds away, The owls and bats, and all the birds of prey. Each line of yours, like polished steel's so hard, In beauty safe, it wants no other guard. Nature herself's beholden to your dress, Which though still like, much fairer you express. Some vainly striving honour to obtain, Leave to their heirs the traffic of their brain:Like China under ground, the ripening ware, In a long time, perhaps grows worth our care. But you now reap the fame, so well you've sown;The planter tastes his fruit to ripeness grown. As a fair orange-tree at once is seenBig with what's ripe, yet springing still with green, So at one time, my worthy friend appears, With all the sap of youth, and weight of years. Accept my pious love, as forward zeal, Which though it ruins me I can't conceal:Exposed to censure for my weak applause, I'm pleased to suffer in so just a cause;And though my offering may unworthy prove, Take, as a friend, the wishes of my love. 

J. MARSH. 

TO MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS PLAY CALLEDTHE OLD BACHELOR. 

Wit, like true gold, refined from all allay, Immortal is, and never can decay:'Tis in all times and languages the same, Nor can an ill translation quench the flame:For, though the form and fashion don't remain, The intrinsic value still it will retain. Then let each studied scene be writ with art, And judgment sweat to form the laboured part. Each character be just, and nature seem:Without th' ingredient, wit, 'tis all but phlegm:For that's the soul, which all the mass must move, And wake our passions into grief or love. But you, too bounteous, sow your wit so thick, We are surprised, and know not where to pick;And while with clapping we are just to you, Ourselves we injure, and lose something new. What mayn't we then, great youth, of thee presage, Whose art and wit so much transcend thy age?How wilt thou shine at thy meridian height, Who, at thy rising, giv'st so vast a light?When Dryden dying shall the world deceive, Whom we immortal, as his works, believe, Thou shalt succeed, the glory of the stage, Adorn and entertain the coming age. 

BEVIL. HIGGONS. 

PROLOGUE INTENDED FOR THE OLD BACHELOR. Written by the LORD FALKLAND. 

Most authors on the stage at first appearLike widows' bridegrooms, full of doubt and fear:They judge, from the experience of the dame, How hard a task it is to quench her flame;And who falls short of furnishing a courseUp to his brawny predecessor's force, With utmost rage from her embraces thrown, Remains convicted as an empty drone. Thus often, to his shame, a pert beginnerProves in the end a miserable sinner. As for our youngster, I am apt to doubt him, With all the vigour of his youth about him;But he, more sanguine, trusts in one and twenty, And impudently hopes he shall content you:For though his bachelor be worn and cold, He thinks the young may club to help the old, And what alone can be achieved by neither, Is often brought about by both together. The briskest of you all have felt alarms, Finding the fair one prostitute her charmsWith broken sighs, in her old fumbler's arms:But for our spark, he swears he'll ne'er be jealousOf any rivals, but young lusty fellows. Faith, let him try his chance, and if the slave, After his bragging, prove a washy knave, May he be banished to some lonely denAnd never more have leave to dip his pen. But if he be the champion he pretends, Both sexes sure will join to be his friends, For all agree, where all can have their ends. And you must own him for a man of might, If he holds out to please you the third night. 

PROLOGUE. Spoken by MRS. BRACEGIRDLE. 

How this vile world is changed! In former daysPrologues were serious speeches before plays, Grave, solemn things, as graces are to feasts, Where poets begged a blessing from their guests. But now no more like suppliants we come;A play makes war, and prologue is the drum. Armed with keen satire and with pointed wit, We threaten you who do for judges sit, To save our plays, or else we'll damn your pit. But for your comfort, it falls out to-day, We've a young author and his first-born play;So, standing only on his good behaviour, He's very civil, and entreats your favour. Not but the man has malice, would he show it, But on my conscience he's a bashful poet;You think that strange--no matter, he'll outgrow it. Well, I'm his advocate: by me he prays you(I don't know whether I shall speak to please you), He prays--O bless me! what shall I do now?Hang me if I know what he prays, or how!And 'twas the prettiest prologue as he wrote it!Well, the deuce take me, if I han't forgot it. O Lord, for heav'n's sake excuse the play, Because, you know, if it be damned to-day, I shall be hanged for wanting what to say. For my sake then--but I'm in such confusion, I cannot stay to hear your resolution. 

[_Runs off_. ]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 

MEN. 

HEARTWELL, a surly old bachelor, pretending to slight women, secretly inlove with Silvia--Mr. Betterton. BELLMOUR, in love with Belinda--Mr. PowellVAINLOVE, capricious in his love; in love with Araminta--Mr. WilliamsSHARPER, --Mr. VerbruggenSIR JOSEPH WITTOL, --Mr. BowenCAPTAIN BLUFFE, --Mr. Haines. FONDLEWIFE, a banker--Mr. DoggetSETTER, a pimp--Mr UnderhillSERVANT to Fondlewife. 

WOMEN. 

ARAMINTA, in love with Vainlove--Mrs. BracegirdleBELINDA, her cousin, an affected lady, in love with Bellmour--Mrs. MountfortLAETITIA, wife to Fondlewife--Mrs. BarrySYLVIA, Vainlove's forsaken mistress--Mrs. BowmanLUCY, her maid--Mrs. LeighBETTY. BOY and FOOTMEN. 

SCENE: London. 

ACT I. 

SCENE I. 

SCENE: _The Street_. 

BELLMOUR _and_ VAINLOVE _meeting_. 

BELL. Vainlove, and abroad so early! Good-morrow; I thought acontemplative lover could no more have parted with his bed in a morningthan he could have slept in't. 

VAIN. Bellmour, good-morrow. Why, truth on't is, these early salliesare not usual to me; but business, as you see, sir--[_Showing Letters_. ]And business must be followed, or be lost. 

BELL. Business! And so must time, my friend, be close pursued, or lost. Business is the rub of life, perverts our aim, casts off the bias, andleaves us wide and short of the intended mark. 

VAIN. Pleasure, I guess you mean. 

BELL. Ay; what else has meaning?

VAIN. Oh, the wise will tell you--

BELL. More than they believe--or understand. 

VAIN. How, how, Ned! A wise man say more than he understands?

BELL. Ay, ay! Wisdom's nothing but a pretending to know and believemore than we really do. You read of but one wise man, and all that heknew was, that he knew nothing. Come, come, leave business to idlers andwisdom to fools; they have need of 'em. Wit be my faculty, and pleasuremy occupation; and let Father Time shake his glass. Let low and earthlysouls grovel till they have worked themselves six foot deep into a grave. Business is not my element--I roll in a higher orb, and dwell--

VAIN. In castles i' th' air of thy own building. That's thy element, Ned. Well, as high a flier as you are, I have a lure may make you stoop. [_Flings a Letter_. ]

BELL. I, marry, sir, I have a hawk's eye at a woman's hand. There'smore elegancy in the false spelling of this superscription [_takes up theLetter_] than in all Cicero. Let me see. --How now!--Dear _perfidiousVainlove_. [_Reads_. ]

VAIN. Hold, hold, 'slife, that's the wrong. 

BELL. Nay, let's see the name--Sylvia!--how canst thou be ungrateful tothat creature? She's extremely pretty, and loves thee entirely--I haveheard her breathe such raptures about thee--

VAIN. Ay, or anybody that she's about--

BELL. No, faith, Frank, you wrong her; she has been just to you. 

VAIN. That's pleasant, by my troth, from thee, who hast had her. 

BELL. Never--her affections. 'Tis true, by heaven: she owned it to myface; and, blushing like the virgin morn when it disclosed the cheatwhich that trusty bawd of nature, night, had hid, confessed her soul wastrue to you; though I by treachery had stolen the bliss. 

VAIN. So was true as turtle--in imagination--Ned, ha? Preach thisdoctrine to husbands, and the married women will adore thee. 

BELL. Why, faith, I think it will do well enough, if the husband be outof the way, for the wife to show her fondness and impatience of hisabsence by choosing a lover as like him as she can; and what is unlike, she may help out with her own fancy. 

VAIN. But is it not an abuse to the lover to be made a blind of?

BELL. As you say, the abuse is to the lover, not the husband. For 'tisan argument of her great zeal towards him, that she will enjoy him ineffigy. 

VAIN. It must be a very superstitious country where such zeal passes fortrue devotion. I doubt it will be damned by all our Protestant husbandsfor flat idolatry. But, if you can make Alderman Fondlewife of yourpersuasion, this letter will be needless. 

BELL. What! The old banker with the handsome wife?

VAIN. Ay. 

BELL. Let me see--_Laetitia_! Oh, 'tis a delicious morsel. Dear Frank, thou art the truest friend in the world. 

VAIN. Ay, am I not? To be continually starting of hares for you tocourse. We were certainly cut out for one another; for my temper quitsan amour just where thine takes it up. But read that; it is anappointment for me, this evening--when Fondlewife will be gone out oftown, to meet the master of a ship, about the return of a venture whichhe's in danger of losing. Read, read. 

BELL. [_reads_. ] Hum, Hum--Out of town this evening, and talks ofsending for Mr. Spintext to keep me company; but I'll take care he shallnot be at home. Good! Spintext! Oh, the fanatic one-eyed parson!

VAIN. Ay. 

BELL. [_reads_. ] Hum, Hum--That your conversation will be much moreagreeable, if you can counterfeit his habit to blind the servants. Verygood! Then I must be disguised?--With all my heart!--It adds a gusto toan amour; gives it the greater resemblance of theft; and, among us lewdmortals, the deeper the sin the sweeter. Frank, I'm amazed at thy goodnature--

VAIN. Faith, I hate love when 'tis forced upon a man, as I do wine. Andthis business is none of my seeking; I only happened to be, once ortwice, where Laetitia was the handsomest woman in company; so, consequently, applied myself to her--and it seems she has taken me at myword. Had you been there, or anybody, 't had been the same. 

BELL. I wish I may succeed as the same. 

VAIN. Never doubt it; for if the spirit of cuckoldom be once raised upin a woman, the devil can't lay it, until she has done't. 

BELL. Prithee, what sort of fellow is Fondlewife?

VAIN. A kind of mongrel zealot, sometimes very precise and peevish. ButI have seen him pleasant enough in his way; much addicted to jealousy, but more to fondness; so that as he is often jealous without a cause, he's as often satisfied without reason. 

BELL. A very even temper, and fit for my purpose. I must get your manSetter to provide my disguise. 

VAIN. Ay; you may take him for good and all, if you will, for you havemade him fit for nobody else. Well--

BELL. You're going to visit in return of Sylvia's letter. Poor rogue!Any hour of the day or night will serve her. But do you know nothing ofa new rival there?

VAIN. Yes; Heartwell--that surly, old, pretended woman-hater--thinks hervirtuous; that's one reason why I fail her. I would have her fretherself out of conceit with me, that she may entertain some thoughts ofhim. I know he visits her every day. 

BELL. Yet rails on still, and thinks his love unknown to us. A littletime will swell him so, he must be forced to give it birth; and thediscovery must needs be very pleasant from himself, to see what pains hewill take, and how he will strain to be delivered of a secret, when hehas miscarried of it already. 

VAIN. Well, good-morrow. Let's dine together; I'll meet at the oldplace. 

BELL. With all my heart. It lies convenient for us to pay our afternoonservices to our mistresses. I find I am damnably in love, I'm so uneasyfor not having seen Belinda yesterday. 

VAIN. But I saw my Araminta, yet am as impatient. 

SCENE II. 

BELLMOUR _alone_. 

BELL. Why, what a cormorant in love am I! Who, not contented with theslavery of honourable love in one place, and the pleasure of enjoyingsome half a score mistresses of my own acquiring, must yet takeVainlove's business upon my hands, because it lay too heavy upon his; soam not only forced to lie with other men's wives for 'em, but must alsoundertake the harder task of obliging their mistresses. I must take up, or I shall never hold out. Flesh and blood cannot bear it always. 

SCENE III. 

[_To him_] SHARPER. 

SHARP. I'm sorry to see this, Ned. Once a man comes to his soliloquies, I give him for gone. 

BELL. Sharper, I'm glad to see thee. 

SHARP. What! is Belinda cruel, that you are so thoughtful?

BELL. No, faith, not for that. But there's a business of consequencefallen out to-day that requires some consideration. 

SHARP. Prithee, what mighty business of consequence canst thou have?

BELL. Why, you must know, 'tis a piece of work toward the finishing ofan alderman. It seems I must put the last hand to it, and dub himcuckold, that he may be of equal dignity with the rest of his brethren:so I must beg Belinda's pardon. 

SHARP. Faith, e'en give her over for good and all; you can have no hopesof getting her for a mistress; and she is too proud, too inconstant, tooaffected and too witty, and too handsome for a wife. 

BELL. But she can't have too much money. There's twelve thousand pound, Tom. 'Tis true she is excessively foppish and affected; but in myconscience I believe the baggage loves me: for she never speaks well ofme herself, nor suffers anybody else to rail at me. Then, as I told you, there's twelve thousand pound. Hum! Why, faith, upon second thoughts, she does not appear to be so very affected neither. --Give her her due, Ithink the woman's a woman, and that's all. As such, I'm sure I shalllike her; for the devil take me if I don't love all the sex. 

SHARP. And here comes one who swears as heartily he hates all the sex. 

SCENE IV. 

[_To them_] HEARTWELL. 

BELL. Who? Heartwell? Ay, but he knows better things. How now, George, where hast thou been snarling odious truths, and entertainingcompany, like a physician, with discourse of their diseases andinfirmities? What fine lady hast thou been putting out of conceit withherself, and persuading that the face she had been making all the morningwas none of her own? For I know thou art as unmannerly and as unwelcometo a woman as a looking-glass after the smallpox. 

HEART. I confess I have not been sneering fulsome lies and nauseousflattery; fawning upon a little tawdry whore, that will fawn upon meagain, and entertain any puppy that comes, like a tumbler, with the sametricks over and over. For such, I guess, may have been your lateemployment. 

BELL. Would thou hadst come a little sooner. Vainlove would havewrought thy conversion, and been a champion for the cause. 

HEART. What! has he been here? That's one of love's April fools; isalways upon some errand that's to no purpose; ever embarking inadventures, yet never comes to harbour. 

SHARP. That's because he always sets out in foul weather, loves tobuffet with the winds, meet the tide, and sail in the teeth ofopposition. 

HEART. What! Has he not dropt anchor at Araminta?

BELL. Truth on't is she fits his temper best, is a kind of floatingisland; sometimes seems in reach, then vanishes and keeps him busied inthe search. 

SHARP. She had need have a good share of sense to manage so capricious alover. 

BELL. Faith I don't know, he's of a temper the most easy to himself inthe world; he takes as much always of an amour as he cares for, and quitsit when it grows stale or unpleasant. 

SHARP. An argument of very little passion, very good understanding, andvery ill nature. 

HEART. And proves that Vainlove plays the fool with discretion. 

SHARP. You, Bellmour, are bound in gratitude to stickle for him; youwith pleasure reap that fruit, which he takes pains to sow: he does thedrudgery in the mine, and you stamp your image on the gold. 

BELL. He's of another opinion, and says I do the drudgery in the mine. Well, we have each our share of sport, and each that which he likes best;'tis his diversion to set, 'tis mine to cover the partridge. 

HEART. And it should be mine to let 'em go again. 

SHARP. Not till you had mouthed a little, George. I think that's allthou art fit for now. 

HEART. Good Mr. Young-Fellow, you're mistaken; as able as yourself, andas nimble, too, though I mayn't have so much mercury in my limbs; 'tistrue, indeed, I don't force appetite, but wait the natural call of mylust, and think it time enough to be lewd after I have had thetemptation. 

BELL. Time enough, ay, too soon, I should rather have expected, from aperson of your gravity. 

HEART. Yet it is oftentimes too late with some of you young, termagant, flashy sinners--you have all the guilt of the intention, and none of thepleasure of the practice--'tis true you are so eager in pursuit of thetemptation, that you save the devil the trouble of leading you into it. Nor is it out of discretion that you don't swallow that very hookyourselves have baited, but you are cloyed with the preparative, and whatyou mean for a whet, turns the edge of your puny stomachs. Your love islike your courage, which you show for the first year or two upon alloccasions; till in a little time, being disabled or disarmed, you abateof your vigour; and that daring blade which was so often drawn, is boundto the peace for ever after. 

BELL. Thou art an old fornicator of a singular good principle indeed, and art for encouraging youth, that they may be as wicked as thou art atthy years. 

HEART. I am for having everybody be what they pretend to be: awhoremaster be a whoremaster, and not like Vainlove, kiss a lap-dog withpassion, when it would disgust him from the lady's own lips. 

BELL. That only happens sometimes, where the dog has the sweeter breath, for the more cleanly conveyance. But, George, you must not quarrel withlittle gallantries of this nature: women are often won by 'em. Who wouldrefuse to kiss a lap-dog, if it were preliminary to the lips of his lady?

SHARP. Or omit playing with her fan, and cooling her if she were hot, when it might entitle him to the office of warming her when she should becold?

BELL. What is it to read a play in a rainy day? Though you should benow and then interrupted in a witty scene, and she perhaps preserve herlaughter, till the jest were over; even that may be borne with, considering the reward in prospect. 

HEART. I confess you that are women's asses bear greater burdens: areforced to undergo dressing, dancing, singing, sighing, whining, rhyming, flattering, lying, grinning, cringing, and the drudgery of loving toboot. 

BELL. O brute, the drudgery of loving!

HEART. Ay! Why, to come to love through all these incumbrances is likecoming to an estate overcharged with debts, which, by the time you havepaid, yields no further profit than what the bare tillage and manuring ofthe land will produce at the expense of your own sweat. 

BELL. Prithee, how dost thou love?

SHARP. He! He hates the sex. 

HEART. So I hate physic too--yet I may love to take it for my health. 

BELL. Well come off, George, if at any time you should be takenstraying. 

SHARP. He has need of such an excuse, considering the present state ofhis body. 

HEART. How d'ye mean?

SHARP. Why, if whoring be purging, as you call it, then, I may say, marriage is entering into a course of physic. 

BELL. How, George! Does the wind blow there?

HEART. It will as soon blow north and by south--marry, quotha! I hopein heaven I have a greater portion of grace, and I think I have baitedtoo many of those traps to be caught in one myself. 

BELL. Who the devil would have thee? unless 'twere an oysterwoman topropagate young fry for Billingsgate--thy talent will never recommendthee to anything of better quality. 

HEART. My talent is chiefly that of speaking truth, which I don't expectshould ever recommend me to people of quality. I thank heaven I havevery honestly purchased the hatred of all the great families in town. 

SHARP. And you in return of spleen hate them. But could you hope to bereceived into the alliance of a noble family--

HEART. No; I hope I shall never merit that affliction, to be punishedwith a wife of birth, be a stag of the first head and bear my hornsaloft, like one of the supporters of my wife's coat. S'death I would notbe a Cuckold to e'er an illustrious whore in England. 

BELL. What, not to make your family, man and provide for your children?

SHARP. For her children, you mean. 

HEART. Ay, there you've nicked it. There's the devil upon devil. Oh, the pride and joy of heart 'twould be to me to have my son and heirresemble such a duke; to have a fleering coxcomb scoff and cry, 'Mr. Yourson's mighty like his Grace, has just his smile and air of's face. ' Thenreplies another, 'Methinks he has more of the Marquess of such a placeabout his nose and eyes, though he has my Lord what-d'ye-call's mouth toa tittle. ' Then I, to put it off as unconcerned, come chuck the infantunder the chin, force a smile, and cry, 'Ay, the boy takes after hismother's relations, ' when the devil and she knows 'tis a little compoundof the whole body of nobility. 

BELL+SHARP. Ha, ha, ha!

BELL. Well, but, George, I have one question to ask you--

HEART. Pshaw, I have prattled away my time. I hope you are in no hastefor an answer, for I shan't stay now. [_Looking on his watch_. ]

BELL. Nay, prithee, George--

HEART. No; besides my business, I see a fool coming this way. Adieu. 

SCENE V. 

SHARPER, BELLMOUR. 

BELL. What does he mean? Oh, 'tis Sir Joseph Wittoll with his friend;but I see he has turned the corner and goes another way. 

SHARP. What in the name of wonder is it?

BELL. Why, a fool. 

SHARP. 'Tis a tawdry outside. 

BELL. And a very beggarly lining--yet he may be worth your acquaintance;a little of thy chymistry, Tom, may extract gold from that dirt. 

SHARP. Say you so? 'Faith I am as poor as a chymist, and would be asindustrious. But what was he that followed him? Is not he a dragon thatwatches those golden pippins?

BELL. Hang him, no, he a dragon! If he be, 'tis a very peaceful one. Ican ensure his anger dormant; or should he seem to rouse, 'tis but welllashing him, and he will sleep like a top. 

SHARP. Ay, is he of that kidney?

BELL. Yet is adored by that bigot, Sir Joseph Wittoll, as the image ofvalour. He calls him his back, and indeed they are never asunder--yet, last night, I know not by what mischance, the knight was alone, and hadfallen into the hands of some night-walkers, who, I suppose, would havepillaged him. But I chanced to come by and rescued him, though I believehe was heartily frightened; for as soon as ever he was loose, he ran awaywithout staying to see who had helped him. 

SHARP. Is that bully of his in the army?

BELL. No; but is a pretender, and wears the habit of a soldier, whichnowadays as often cloaks cowardice, as a black gown does atheism. Youmust know he has been abroad--went purely to run away from a campaign;enriched himself with the plunder of a few oaths, and here vents themagainst the general, who, slighting men of merit, and preferring onlythose of interest, has made him quit the service. 

SHARP. Wherein no doubt he magnifies his own performance. 

BELL. Speaks miracles, is the drum to his own praise--the only implementof a soldier he resembles, like that, being full of blustering noise andemptiness--

SHARP. And like that, of no use but to be beaten. 

BELL. Right; but then the comparison breaks, for he will take a drubbingwith as little noise as a pulpit cushion. 

SHARP. His name, and I have done?

BELL. Why, that, to pass it current too, he has gilded with a title: heis called Capt. Bluffe. 

SHARP. Well, I'll endeavour his acquaintance--you steer another course, are bound--

 For love's island: I, for the golden coast. May each succeed in what he wishes most. 

ACT II. 

SCENE I. 

SIR JOSEPH WITTOLL, SHARPER _following_. 

SHARP. Sure that's he, and alone. 

SIR JO. Um--Ay, this, this is the very damned place; the inhumancannibals, the bloody-minded villains, would have butchered me lastnight. No doubt they would have flayed me alive, have sold my skin, anddevoured, etc. 

SHARP. How's this!

SIR JO. An it hadn't been for a civil gentleman as came by and frighted'em away--but, agad, I durst not stay to give him thanks. 

SHARP. This must be Bellmour he means. Ha! I have a thought--

SIR JO. Zooks, would the captain would come; the very remembrance makesme quake; agad, I shall never be reconciled to this place heartily. 

SHARP. 'Tis but trying, and being where I am at worst, now luck!--cursedfortune! this must be the place, this damned unlucky place--

SIR JO. Agad, and so 'tis. Why, here has been more mischief done, Iperceive. 

SHARP. No, 'tis gone, 'tis lost--ten thousand devils on that chancewhich drew me hither; ay, here, just here, this spot to me is hell;nothing to be found, but the despair of what I've lost. [_Looking aboutas in search_. ]

SIR JO. Poor gentleman! By the Lord Harry I'll stay no longer, for Ihave found too--

SHARP. Ha! who's that has found? What have you found? Restore itquickly, or by--

SIR JO. Not I, sir, not I; as I've a soul to be saved, I have foundnothing but what has been to my loss, as I may say, and as you weresaying, sir. 

SHARP. Oh, your servant, sir; you are safe, then, it seems. 'Tis an illwind that blows nobody good. Well, you may rejoice over my ill fortune, since it paid the price of your ransom. 

SIR JO. I rejoice! agad, not I, sir: I'm very sorry for your loss, withall my heart, blood and guts, sir; and if you did but know me, you'dne'er say I were so ill-natured. 

SHARP. Know you! Why, can you be so ungrateful to forget me?

SIR JO. O Lord, forget him! No, no, sir, I don't forget you--because Inever saw your face before, agad. Ha, ha, ha!

SHARP. How! [_Angrily_. ]

SIR JO. Stay, stay, sir, let me recollect--he's a damned angry fellow--Ibelieve I had better remember him, until I can get out of his sight; butout of sight out of mind, agad. [_Aside_. ]

SHARP. Methought the service I did you last night, sir, in preservingyou from those ruffians, might have taken better root in your shallowmemory. 

SIR JO. Gads-daggers-belts-blades and scabbards, this is the verygentleman! How shall I make him a return suitable to the greatness ofhis merit? I had a pretty thing to that purpose, if he ha'n't frightedit out of my memory. Hem! hem! sir, I most submissively implore yourpardon for my transgression of ingratitude and omission; having my entiredependence, sir, upon the superfluity of your goodness, which, like aninundation, will, I hope, totally immerge the recollection of my error, and leave me floating, in your sight, upon the full-blown bladders ofrepentance--by the help of which, I shall once more hope to swim intoyour favour. [_Bows_. ]

SHARP. So-h, oh, sir, I am easily pacified, the acknowledgment of agentleman--

SIR JO. Acknowledgment! Sir, I am all over acknowledgment, and will notstick to show it in the greatest extremity by night or by day, insickness or in health, winter or summer; all seasons and occasions shalltestify the reality and gratitude of your superabundant humble servant, Sir Joseph Wittoll, knight. Hem! hem!

SHARP. Sir Joseph Wittoll?

SIR JO. The same, sir, of Wittoll Hall in _Comitatu_ Bucks. 

SHARP. Is it possible! Then I am happy to have obliged the mirror ofknighthood and pink of courtesie in the age. Let me embrace you. 

SIR JO. O Lord, sir!

SHARP. My loss I esteem as a trifle repaid with interest, since it haspurchased me the friendship and acquaintance of the person in the worldwhose character I admire. 

SIR JO. You are only pleased to say so, sir. But, pray, if I may be sobold, what is that loss you mention?

SHARP. Oh, term it no longer so, sir. In the scuffle last night I onlydropt a bill of a hundred pound, which, I confess, I came half despairingto recover; but, thanks to my better fortune--

SIR JO. You have found it, sir, then, it seems; I profess I'm heartilyglad--

SHARP. Sir, your humble servant. I don't question but you are, that youhave so cheap an opportunity of expressing your gratitude and generosity, since the paying so trivial a sum will wholly acquit you and doublyengage me. 

SIR JO. What a dickens does he mean by a trivial sum? [_Aside_. ] Butha'n't you found it, sir!

SHARP. No otherwise, I vow to Gad, but in my hopes in you, sir. 

SIR JO. Humh. 

SHARP. But that's sufficient. 'Twere injustice to doubt the honour ofSir Joseph Wittoll. 

SIR JO. O Lord, sir. 

SHARP. You are above, I'm sure, a thought so low, to suffer me to losewhat was ventured in your service; nay, 'twas in a manner paid down foryour deliverance; 'twas so much lent you. And you scorn, I'll say thatfor you--

SIR JO. Nay, I'll say that for myself, with your leave, sir, I do scorna dirty thing. But, agad, I'm a little out of pocket at present. 

SHARP. Pshaw, you can't want a hundred pound. Your word is sufficientanywhere. 'Tis but borrowing so much dirt. You have large acres, andcan soon repay it. Money is but dirt, Sir Joseph--mere dirt. 

SIR JO. But, I profess, 'tis a dirt I have washed my hands of atpresent; I have laid it all out upon my Back. 

SHARP. Are you so extravagant in clothes, Sir Joseph?

SIR JO. Ha, ha, ha, a very good jest, I profess, ha, ha, ha, a very goodjest, and I did not know that I had said it, and that's a better jestthan t'other. 'Tis a sign you and I ha'n't been long acquainted; youhave lost a good jest for want of knowing me--I only mean a friend ofmine whom I call my Back; he sticks as close to me, and follows methrough all dangers--he is indeed back, breast, and head-piece, as itwere, to me. Agad, he's a brave fellow. Pauh, I am quite another thingwhen I am with him: I don't fear the devil (bless us) almost if he be by. Ah! had he been with me last night--

SHARP. If he had, sir, what then? he could have done no more, norperhaps have suffered so much. Had he a hundred pound to lose?[_Angrily_. ]

SIR JO. O Lord, sir, by no means, but I might have saved a hundredpound: I meant innocently, as I hope to be saved, sir (a damned hotfellow), only, as I was saying, I let him have all my ready money toredeem his great sword from limbo. But, sir, I have a letter of creditto Alderman Fondlewife, as far as two hundred pound, and this afternoonyou shall see I am a person, such a one as you would wish to have metwith--

SHARP. That you are, I'll be sworn. [_Aside_. ] Why, that's great andlike yourself. 

SCENE II. 

[_To them_] CAPTAIN BLUFFE. 

SIR JO. Oh, here a' comes--Ay, my Hector of Troy, welcome, my bully, myBack; agad, my heart has gone a pit pat for thee. 

BLUFF. How now, my young knight? Not for fear, I hope; he that knows memust be a stranger to fear. 

SIR JO. Nay, agad, I hate fear ever since I had like to have died of afright. But--

BLUFF. But? Look you here, boy, here's your antidote, here's yourJesuits' powder for a shaking fit. But who hast thou got with thee? ishe of mettle? [_Laying his hand upon his sword_. ]

SIR JO. Ay, bully, a devilish smart fellow: 'a will fight like a cock. 

BLUFF. Say you so? Then I honour him. But has he been abroad? forevery cock will fight upon his own dunghill. 

SIR JO. I don't know, but I'll present you--

BLUFF. I'll recommend myself. Sir, I honour you; I understand you lovefighting, I reverence a man that loves fighting. Sir, I kiss your hilts. 

SHARP. Sir, your servant, but you are misinformed, for, unless it be toserve my particular friend, as Sir Joseph here, my country, or myreligion, or in some very justifiable cause, I'm not for it. 

BLUFF. O Lord, I beg your pardon, sir, I find you are not of my palate:you can't relish a dish of fighting without sweet sauce. Now, I thinkfighting for fighting sake's sufficient cause; fighting to me's religionand the laws. 

SIR JO. Ah, well said, my Hero; was not that great, sir? by the LordHarry he says true; fighting is meat, drink, and cloth to him. But, Back, this gentleman is one of the best friends I have in the world, andsaved my life last night--you know I told you. 

BLUFF. Ay! Then I honour him again. Sir, may I crave your name?

SHARP. Ay, sir, my name's Sharper. 

SIR JO. Pray, Mr. Sharper, embrace my Back. Very well. By the LordHarry, Mr. Sharper, he's as brave a fellow as Cannibal, are not you, Bully-Back?

SHARP. Hannibal, I believe you mean, Sir Joseph. 

BLUFF. Undoubtedly he did, sir; faith, Hannibal was a very prettyfellow--but, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious--Hannibal was a verypretty fellow in those days, it must be granted--but alas, sir! were healive now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth. 

SHARP. How, sir! I make a doubt if there be at this day a greatergeneral breathing. 

BLUFF. Oh, excuse me, sir! Have you served abroad, sir?

SHARP. Not I, really, sir. 

BLUFF. Oh, I thought so. Why, then, you can know nothing, sir: I amafraid you scarce know the history of the late war in Flanders, with allits particulars. 

SHARP. Not I, sir, no more than public letters or gazettes tell us. 

BLUFF. Gazette! Why there again now. Why, sir, there are not threewords of truth the year round put into the Gazette. I'll tell you astrange thing now as to that. You must know, sir, I was resident inFlanders the last campaign, had a small post there, but no matter forthat. Perhaps, sir, there was scarce anything of moment done but anhumble servant of yours, that shall be nameless, was an eye-witness of. Iwon't say had the greatest share in't, though I might say that too, sinceI name nobody you know. Well, Mr. Sharper, would you think it? In allthis time, as I hope for a truncheon, this rascally gazette-writer neverso much as once mentioned me--not once, by the wars--took no more noticethan as if Nol. Bluffe had not been in the land of the living. 

SHARP. Strange!

SIR JO. Yet, by the Lord Harry, 'tis true, Mr. Sharper, for I went everyday to coffee-houses to read the gazette myself. 

BLUFF. Ay, ay, no matter. You see, Mr. Sharper, after all I am contentto retire; live a private person. Scipio and others have done it. 

SHARP. Impudent rogue. [_Aside_. ]

SIR JO. Ay, this damned modesty of yours. Agad, if he would put infor't he might be made general himself yet. 

BLUFF. Oh, fie! no, Sir Joseph; you know I hate this. 

SIR JO. Let me but tell Mr. Sharper a little, how you ate fire once outof the mouth of a cannon. Agad, he did; those impenetrable whiskers ofhis have confronted flames--

BLUFF. Death, what do you mean, Sir Joseph?

SIR JO. Look you now. I tell you he's so modest he'll own nothing. 

BLUFF. Pish, you have put me out, I have forgot what I was about. Prayhold your tongue, and give me leave. [_Angrily_. ]

SIR JO. I am dumb. 

BLUFF. This sword I think I was telling you of, Mr. Sharper. This swordI'll maintain to be the best divine, anatomist, lawyer, or casuist inEurope; it shall decide a controversy or split a cause--

SIR JO. Nay, now I must speak; it will split a hair, by the Lord Harry, I have seen it. 

BLUFF. Zounds, sir, it's a lie; you have not seen it, nor sha'n't seeit; sir, I say you can't see; what d'ye say to that now?

SIR JO. I am blind. 

BLUFF. Death, had any other man interrupted me--

SIR JO. Good Mr. Sharper, speak to him; I dare not look that way. 

SHARP. Captain, Sir Joseph's penitent. 

BLUFF. Oh, I am calm, sir, calm as a discharged culverin. But 'twasindiscreet, when you know what will provoke me. Nay, come, Sir Joseph, you know my heat's soon over. 

SIR JO. Well, I am a fool sometimes, but I'm sorry. 

BLUFF. Enough. 

SIR JO. Come, we'll go take a glass to drown animosities. Mr. Sharper, will you partake?

SHARP. I wait on you, sir. Nay, pray, Captain; you are Sir Joseph'sback. 

SCENE III. 

ARAMINTA, BELINDA, BETTY _waiting_, _in Araminta's apartment_. 

BELIN. Ah! nay, dear; prithee, good, dear, sweet cousin, no more. OGad! I swear you'd make one sick to hear you. 

ARAM. Bless me! what have I said to move you thus?

BELIN. Oh, you have raved, talked idly, and all in commendation of thatfilthy, awkward, two-legged creature man. You don't know what you'vesaid; your fever has transported you. 

ARAM. If love be the fever which you mean, kind heaven avert the cure. Let me have oil to feed that flame, and never let it be extinct till Imyself am ashes. 

BELIN. There was a whine! O Gad, I hate your horrid fancy. This loveis the devil, and, sure, to be in love is to be possessed. 'Tis in thehead, the heart, the blood, the--all over. O Gad, you are quite spoiled. I shall loathe the sight of mankind for your sake. 

ARAM. Fie! this is gross affectation. A little of Bellmour's companywould change the scene. 

BELIN. Filthy fellow! I wonder, cousin--

ARAM. I wonder, cousin, you should imagine I don't perceive you lovehim. 

BELIN. Oh, I love your hideous fancy! Ha, ha, ha, love a man!

ARAM. Love a man! yes, you would not love a beast. 

BELIN. Of all beasts not an ass--which is so like your Vainlove. Lard, I have seen an ass look so chagrin, ha, ha, ha (you must pardon me, Ican't help laughing), that an absolute lover would have concluded thepoor creature to have had darts, and flames, and altars, and all that inhis breast. Araminta, come, I'll talk seriously to you now; could youbut see with my eyes the buffoonery of one scene of address, a lover, setout with all his equipage and appurtenances; O Gad I sure you would--Butyou play the game, and consequently can't see the miscarriages obvious toevery stander by. 

ARAM. Yes, yes; I can see something near it when you and Bellmour meet. You don't know that you dreamt of Bellmour last night, and called himaloud in your sleep. 

BELIN. Pish, I can't help dreaming of the devil sometimes; would youfrom thence infer I love him?

ARAM. But that's not all; you caught me in your arms when you named him, and pressed me to your bosom. Sure, if I had not pinched you until youwaked, you had stifled me with kisses. 

BELIN. O barbarous aspersion!

ARAM. No aspersion, cousin, we are alone. Nay, I can tell you more. 

BELIN. I deny it all. 

ARAM. What, before you hear it?

BELIN. My denial is premeditated like your malice. Lard, cousin, youtalk oddly. Whatever the matter is, O my Sol, I'm afraid you'll followevil courses. 

ARAM. Ha, ha, ha, this is pleasant. 

BELIN. You may laugh, but--

ARAM. Ha, ha, ha!

BELIN. You think the malicious grin becomes you. The devil takeBellmour. Why do you tell me of him?

ARAM. Oh, is it come out? Now you are angry, I am sure you love him. Itell nobody else, cousin. I have not betrayed you yet. 

BELIN. Prithee tell it all the world; it's false. 

ARAM. Come, then, kiss and friends. 

BELIN. Pish. 

ARAM. Prithee don't be so peevish. 

BELIN. Prithee don't be so impertinent. Betty!

ARAM. Ha, ha, ha!

BETTY. Did your ladyship call, madam?

BELIN. Get my hoods and tippet, and bid the footman call a chair. 

ARAM. I hope you are not going out in dudgeon, cousin. 

SCENE IV. 

[_To them_] FOOTMAN. 

FOOT. Madam, there are--

BELIN. Is there a chair?

FOOT. No, madam, there are Mr. Bellmour and Mr. Vainlove to wait uponyour ladyship. 

ARAM. Are they below?

FOOT. No, madam, they sent before, to know if you were at home. 

BELIN. The visit's to you, cousin; I suppose I am at my liberty. 

ARAM. Be ready to show 'em up. 

SCENE V. 

[_To them_] BETTY, _with Hoods and Looking-glass_. 

I can't tell, cousin; I believe we are equally concerned. But if youcontinue your humour, it won't be very entertaining. (I know she'd fainbe persuaded to stay. ) [_Aside_. ]

BELIN. I shall oblige you, in leaving you to the full and free enjoymentof that conversation you admire. 

BELIN. Let me see; hold the glass. Lard, I look wretchedly to-day!

ARAM. Betty, why don't you help my cousin? [_Putting on her hoods_. ]

BELIN. Hold off your fists, and see that he gets a chair with a highroof, or a very low seat. Stay, come back here, you Mrs. Fidget--you areso ready to go to the footman. Here, take 'em all again, my mind'schanged; I won't go. 

SCENE VI. 

ARAMINTA, BELINDA. 

ARAM. So, this I expected. You won't oblige me, then, cousin, and letme have all the company to myself?

BELIN. No; upon deliberation, I have too much charity to trust you toyourself. The devil watches all opportunities; and in this favourabledisposition of your mind, heaven knows how far you may be tempted: I amtender of your reputation. 

ARAM. I am obliged to you. But who's malicious now, Belinda?

BELIN. Not I; witness my heart, I stay out of pure affection. 

ARAM. In my conscience I believe you. 

SCENE VII. 

[_To them_] VAINLOVE, BELLMOUR, FOOTMAN. 

BELL. So, fortune be praised! To find you both within, ladies, is--

ARAM. No miracle, I hope. 

BELL. Not o' your side, madam, I confess. But my tyrant there and I, are two buckets that can never come together. 

BELIN. Nor are ever like. Yet we often meet and clash. 

BELL. How never like! marry, Hymen forbid. But this it is to run soextravagantly in debt; I have laid out such a world of love in yourservice, that you think you can never be able to pay me all. So shun mefor the same reason that you would a dun. 

BELIN. Ay, on my conscience, and the most impertinent and troublesome ofduns--a dun for money will be quiet, when he sees his debtor has notwherewithal. But a dun for love is an eternal torment that never rests--

BELL. Until he has created love where there was none, and then gets itfor his pains. For importunity in love, like importunity at Court, firstcreates its own interest and then pursues it for the favour. 

ARAM. Favours that are got by impudence and importunity, are likediscoveries from the rack, when the afflicted person, for his ease, sometimes confesses secrets his heart knows nothing of. 

VAIN. I should rather think favours, so gained, to be due rewards toindefatigable devotion. For as love is a deity, he must be served byprayer. 

BELIN. O Gad, would you would all pray to love, then, and let us alone. 

VAIN. You are the temples of love, and 'tis through you, our devotionmust be conveyed. 

ARAM. Rather poor silly idols of your own making, which upon the leastdispleasure you forsake and set up new. Every man now changes hismistress and his religion as his humour varies, or his interest. 

VAIN. O madam--

ARAM. Nay, come, I find we are growing serious, and then we are in greatdanger of being dull. If my music-master be not gone, I'll entertain youwith a new song, which comes pretty near my own opinion of love and yoursex. Who's there? Is Mr. Gavot gone? [_Calls_. ]

FOOT. Only to the next door, madam. I'll call him. 

SCENE VIII. 

ARAMINTA, BELINDA, VAINLOVE, _and_ BELLMOUR. 

BELL. Why, you won't hear me with patience. 

ARAM. What's the matter, cousin?

BELL. Nothing, madam, only--

BELIN. Prithee hold thy tongue. Lard, he has so pestered me with flamesand stuff, I think I sha'n't endure the sight of a fire this twelvemonth. 

BELL. Yet all can't melt that cruel frozen heart. 

BELIN. O Gad, I hate your hideous fancy--you said that once before--ifyou must talk impertinently, for Heaven's sake let it be with variety;don't come always, like the devil, wrapt in flames. I'll not hear asentence more, that begins with an 'I burn'--or an 'I beseech you, madam. '

BELL. But tell me how you would be adored. I am very tractable. 

BELIN. Then know, I would be adored in silence. 

BELL. Humph, I thought so, that you might have all the talk to yourself. You had better let me speak; for if my thoughts fly to any pitch, I shallmake villainous signs. 

BELIN. What will you get by that; to make such signs as I won'tunderstand?

BELL. Ay, but if I'm tongue-tied, I must have all my actions freeto--quicken your apprehension--and I--gad let me tell you, my mostprevailing argument is expressed in dumb show. 

SCENE IX. 

[_To them_] MUSIC-MASTER. 

ARAM. Oh, I am glad we shall have a song to divert the discourse. Prayoblige us with the last new song. 

SONG. 

I. 

Thus to a ripe, consenting maid, Poor, old, repenting Delia said, Would you long preserve your lover?Would you still his goddess reign?Never let him all discover, Never let him much obtain. 

II. 

Men will admire, adore and die, While wishing at your feet they lie:But admitting their embraces, Wakes 'em from the golden dream;Nothing's new besides our faces, Every woman is the same. 

ARAM. So, how de'e like the song, gentlemen?

BELL. Oh, very well performed; but I don't much admire the words. 

ARAM. I expected it; there's too much truth in 'em. If Mr. Gavot willwalk with us in the garden, we'll have it once again; you may like itbetter at second hearing. You'll bring my cousin. 

BELL. Faith, madam, I dare not speak to her, but I'll make signs. [_Addresses Belinda in dumb show_. ]

BELIN. Oh, foh, your dumb rhetoric is more ridiculous than your talkingimpertinence, as an ape is a much more troublesome animal than a parrot. 

ARAM. Ay, cousin, and 'tis a sign the creatures mimic nature well; forthere are few men but do more silly things than they say. 

BELL. Well, I find my apishness has paid the ransom for my speech, andset it at liberty--though, I confess, I could be well enough pleased todrive on a love-bargain in that silent manner--'twould save a man a worldof lying and swearing at the year's end. Besides, I have had a littleexperience, that brings to mind--

When wit and reason both have failed to move;Kind looks and actions (from success) do prove, Ev'n silence may be eloquent in love. 

ACT III. 

SCENE I. 

SCENE: _The Street_. 

SILVIA _and_ LUCY. 

SILV. Will he not come, then?

LUCY. Yes, yes; come, I warrant him, if you will go in and be ready toreceive him. 

SILV. Why did you not tell me? Whom mean you?

LUCY. Whom you should mean, Heartwell. 

SILV. Senseless creature, I meant my Vainlove. 

LUCY. You may as soon hope to recover your own maiden-head as his love. Therefore, e'en set your heart at rest, and in the name of opportunitymind your own business. Strike Heartwell home before the bait's worn offthe hook. Age will come. He nibbled fairly yesterday, and no doubt willbe eager enough to-day to swallow the temptation. 

SILV. Well, since there's no remedy--yet tell me--for I would know, though to the anguish of my soul, how did he refuse? Tell me, how did hereceive my letter--in anger or in scorn?

LUCY. Neither; but what was ten times worse, with damned senselessindifference. By this light I could have spit in his face. Receive it!Why, he received it as I would one of your lovers that should come empty-handed; as a court lord does his mercer's bill or a begging dedication--hereceived it as if 't had been a letter from his wife. 

SILV. What! did he not read it?

LUCY. Hummed it over, gave you his respects, and said he would take timeto peruse it--but then he was in haste. 

SILV. Respects, and peruse it! He's gone, and Araminta has bewitchedhim from me. Oh, how the name of rival fires my blood. I could curse'em both; eternal jealousy attend her love, and disappointment meet his. Oh that I could revenge the torment he has caused; methinks I feel thewoman strong within me, and vengeance kindles in the room of love. 

LUCY. I have that in my head may make mischief. 

SILV. How, dear Lucy?

LUCY. You know Araminta's dissembled coyness has won, and keeps himhers--

SILV. Could we persuade him that she loves another--

LUCY. No, you're out; could we persuade him that she dotes on him, himself. Contrive a kind letter as from her, 'twould disgust his nicety, and take away his stomach. 

SILV. Impossible; 'twill never take. 

LUCY. Trouble not your head. Let me alone--I will inform myself of whatpassed between 'em to-day, and about it straight. Hold, I'm mistaken, orthat's Heartwell, who stands talking at the corner--'tis he--go get youin, madam, receive him pleasantly, dress up your face in innocence andsmiles, and dissemble the very want of dissimulation. You know what willtake him. 

SILV. 'Tis as hard to counterfeit love as it is to conceal it: but I'lldo my weak endeavour, though I fear I have not art. 

LUCY. Hang art, madam, and trust to nature for dissembling. 

Man was by nature woman's cully made:We never are but by ourselves betrayed. 

SCENE II. 

HEARTWELL, VAINLOVE _and_ BELLMOUR _following_. 

BELL. Hist, hist, is not that Heartwell going to Silvia?

VAIN. He's talking to himself, I think; prithee let's try if we can hearhim. 

HEART. Why, whither in the devil's name am I agoing now? Hum--let methink--is not this Silvia's house, the cave of that enchantress, andwhich consequently I ought to shun as I would infection? To enter hereis to put on the envenomed shirt, to run into the embraces of a fever, and in some raving fit, be led to plunge myself into that more consumingfire, a woman's arms. Ha! well recollected, I will recover my reason, and be gone. 

BELL. Now Venus forbid!

VAIN. Hush--

HEART. Well, why do you not move? Feet, do your office--not one inch;no, fore Gad I'm caught. There stands my north, and thither my needlepoints. Now could I curse myself, yet cannot repent. O thou delicious, damned, dear, destructive woman! S'death, how the young fellows willhoot me! I shall be the jest of the town: nay, in two days I expect tobe chronicled in ditty, and sung in woful ballad, to the tune of theSuperannuated Maiden's Comfort, or the Bachelor's Fall; and upon thethird, I shall be hanged in effigy, pasted up for the exemplary ornamentof necessary houses and cobblers' stalls. Death, I can't think on't--I'llrun into the danger to lose the apprehension. 

SCENE III. 

BELLMOUR, VAINLOVE. 

BELL. A very certain remedy, probatum est. Ha, ha, ha, poor George, thou art i' th' right, thou hast sold thyself to laughter; theill-natured town will find the jest just where thou hast lost it. Ha, ha, how a' struggled, like an old lawyer between two fees. 

VAIN. Or a young wench between pleasure and reputation. 

BELL. Or as you did to-day, when half afraid you snatched a kiss fromAraminta. 

VAIN. She has made a quarrel on't. 

BELL. Pauh, women are only angry at such offences to have the pleasureof forgiving them. 

VAIN. And I love to have the pleasure of making my peace. I should notesteem a pardon if too easily won. 

BELL. Thou dost not know what thou wouldst be at; whether thou wouldsthave her angry or pleased. Couldst thou be content to marry Araminta?

VAIN. Could you be content to go to heaven?

BELL. Hum, not immediately, in my conscience not heartily. I'd do alittle more good in my generation first, in order to deserve it. 

VAIN. Nor I to marry Araminta till I merit her. 

BELL. But how the devil dost thou expect to get her if she never yield?

VAIN. That's true; but I would--

BELL. Marry her without her consent; thou 'rt a riddle beyond woman--

SCENE IV. 

[_To them_] SETTER. 

Trusty Setter, what tidings? How goes the project?

SETTER. As all lewd projects do, sir, where the devil prevents ourendeavours with success. 

BELL. A good hearing, Setter. 

VAIN. Well, I'll leave you with your engineer. 

BELL. And hast thou provided necessaries?

SETTER. All, all, sir; the large sanctified hat, and the little preciseband, with a swinging long spiritual cloak, to cover carnal knavery--notforgetting the black patch, which Tribulation Spintext wears, as I'minformed, upon one eye, as a penal mourning for the ogling offences ofhis youth; and some say, with that eye he first discovered the frailty ofhis wife. 

BELL. Well, in this fanatic father's habit will I confess Laetitia. 

SETTER. Rather prepare her for confession, sir, by helping her to sin. 

BELL. Be at your master's lodging in the evening; I shall use the robes. 

SCENE V. 

SETTER _alone_. 

SETTER. I shall, sir. I wonder to which of these two gentlemen I domost properly appertain: the one uses me as his attendant; the other(being the better acquainted with my parts) employs me as a pimp; why, that's much the more honourable employment--by all means. I follow oneas my master, the other follows me as his conductor. 

SCENE VI. 

[_To him_] LUCY. 

LUCY. There's the hang-dog, his man--I had a power over him in the reignof my mistress; but he is too true a _Valet de Chambre_ not to affect hismaster's faults, and consequently is revolted from his allegiance. 

SETTER. Undoubtedly 'tis impossible to be a pimp and not a man of parts. That is without being politic, diligent, secret, wary, and so forth--andto all this valiant as Hercules--that is, passively valiant and activelyobedient. Ah, Setter, what a treasure is here lost for want of beingknown. 

LUCY. Here's some villainy afoot; he's so thoughtful. May be I maydiscover something in my mask. Worthy sir, a word with you. [_Puts onher mask_. ]

SETTER. Why, if I were known, I might come to be a great man--

LUCY. Not to interrupt your meditation--

SETTER. And I should not be the first that has procured his greatness bypimping. 

LUCY. Now poverty and the pox light upon thee for a contemplative pimp. 

SETTER. Ha! what art who thus maliciously hast awakened me from my dreamof glory? Speak, thou vile disturber--

LUCY. Of thy most vile cogitations--thou poor, conceited wretch, howwert thou valuing thyself upon thy master's employment? For he's thehead pimp to Mr. Bellmour. 

SETTER. Good words, damsel, or I shall--But how dost thou know my masteror me?

LUCY. Yes; I know both master and man to be--

SETTER. To be men, perhaps; nay, faith, like enough: I often march inthe rear of my master, and enter the breaches which he has made. 

LUCY. Ay, the breach of faith, which he has begun: thou traitor to thylawful princess. 

SETTER. Why, how now! prithee who art? Lay by that worldly face andproduce your natural vizor. 

LUCY. No, sirrah, I'll keep it on to abuse thee and leave thee withouthopes of revenge. 

SETTER. Oh! I begin to smoke ye: thou art some forsaken Abigail we havedallied with heretofore--and art come to tickle thy imagination withremembrance of iniquity past. 

LUCY. No thou pitiful flatterer of thy master's imperfections; thoumaukin made up of the shreds and parings of his superfluous fopperies. 

SETTER. Thou art thy mistress's foul self, composed of her sulliediniquities and clothing. 

LUCY. Hang thee, beggar's cur, thy master is but a mumper in love, liescanting at the gate; but never dares presume to enter the house. 

SETTER. Thou art the wicket to thy mistress's gate, to be opened for allcomers. In fine thou art the highroad to thy mistress. 

LUCY. Beast, filthy toad, I can hold no longer, look and tremble. [_Unmasks_. ]

SETTER. How, Mrs. Lucy!

LUCY. I wonder thou hast the impudence to look me in the face. 

SETTER. Adsbud, who's in fault, mistress of mine? who flung the firststone? who undervalued my function? and who the devil could know you byinstinct?

LUCY. You could know my office by instinct, and be hanged, which youhave slandered most abominably. It vexes me not what you said of myperson; but that my innocent calling should be exposed and scandalised--Icannot bear it. 

SETTER. Nay, faith, Lucy, I'm sorry, I'll own myself to blame, though wewere both in fault as to our offices--come, I'll make you any reparation. 

LUCY. Swear. 

SETTER. I do swear to the utmost of my power. 

LUCY. To be brief, then; what is the reason your master did not appearto-day according to the summons I brought him?

SETTER. To answer you as briefly--he has a cause to be tried in anothercourt. 

LUCY. Come, tell me in plain terms, how forward he is with Araminta. 

SETTER. Too forward to be turned back--though he's a little in disgraceat present about a kiss which he forced. You and I can kiss, Lucy, without all that. 

LUCY. Stand off--he's a precious jewel. 

SETTER. And therefore you'd have him to set in your lady's locket. 

LUCY. Where is he now?

SETTER. He'll be in the Piazza presently. 

LUCY. Remember to-day's behaviour. Let me see you with a penitent face. 

SETTER. What, no token of amity, Lucy? You and I don't use to part withdry lips. 

LUCY. No, no, avaunt--I'll not be slabbered and kissed now--I'm not i'th' humour. 

SETTER. I'll not quit you so. I'll follow and put you into the humour. 

SCENE VII. 

SIR JOSEPH WITTOLL, BLUFFE. 

BLUFF. And so, out of your unwonted generosity--

SIR JO. And good-nature, Back; I am good-natured and I can't help it. 

BLUFF. You have given him a note upon Fondlewife for a hundred pound. 

SIR JO. Ay, ay, poor fellow; he ventured fair for't. 

BLUFF. You have disobliged me in it--for I have occasion for the money, and if you would look me in the face again and live, go, and force him toredeliver you the note. Go, and bring it me hither. I'll stay here foryou. 

SIR JO. You may stay until the day of judgment, then, by the Lord Harry. I know better things than to be run through the guts for a hundredpounds. Why, I gave that hundred pound for being saved, and de'e think, an there were no danger, I'll be so ungrateful to take it from thegentleman again?

BLUFF. Well, go to him from me--tell him, I say, he must refund--orBilbo's the world, and slaughter will ensue. If he refuse, tell him--butwhisper that--tell him--I'll pink his soul. But whisper that softly tohim. 

SIR JO. So softly that he shall never hear on't, I warrant you. Why, what a devil's the matter, Bully; are you mad? or de'e think I'm mad?Agad, for my part, I don't love to be the messenger of ill news; 'tis anungrateful office--so tell him yourself. 

BLUFF. By these hilts I believe he frightened you into this composition:I believe you gave it him out of fear, pure, paltry fear--confess. 

SIR JO. No, no, hang't; I was not afraid neither--though I confess hedid in a manner snap me up--yet I can't say that it was altogether out offear, but partly to prevent mischief--for he was a devilish cholericfellow. And if my choler had been up too, agad, there would have beenmischief done, that's flat. And yet I believe if you had been by, Iwould as soon have let him a' had a hundred of my teeth. Adsheart, if heshould come just now when I'm angry, I'd tell him--Mum. 

SCENE VIII. 

[_To them_] BELLMOUR, SHARPER. 

BELL. Thou 'rt a lucky rogue; there's your benefactor; you ought toreturn him thanks now you have received the favour. 

SHARP. Sir Joseph! Your note was accepted, and the money paid at sight. I'm come to return my thanks--

SIR JO. They won't be accepted so readily as the bill, sir. 

BELL. I doubt the knight repents, Tom. He looks like the knight of thesorrowful face. 

SHARP. This is a double generosity: do me a kindness and refuse mythanks. But I hope you are not offended that I offered them. 

SIR JO. May be I am, sir, may be I am not, sir, may be I am both, sir;what then? I hope I may be offended without any offence to you, sir. 

SHARP. Hey day! Captain, what's the matter? You can tell. 

BLUFF. Mr. Sharper, the matter is plain: Sir Joseph has found out yourtrick, and does not care to be put upon, being a man of honour. 

SHARP. Trick, sir?

SIR JO. Ay, trick, sir, and won't be put upon, sir, being a man ofhonour, sir, and so, sir--

SHARP. Harkee, Sir Joseph, a word with ye. In consideration of somefavours lately received, I would not have you draw yourself into a_premunire_, by trusting to that sign of a man there--that pot-guncharged with wind. 

SIR JO. O Lord, O Lord, Captain, come justify yourself--I'll give himthe lie if you'll stand to it. 

SHARP. Nay, then, I'll be beforehand with you, take that, oaf. [_Cuffshim_. ]

SIR JO. Captain, will you see this? Won't you pink his soul?

BLUFF. Husht, 'tis not so convenient now--I shall find a time. 

SHARP. What do you mutter about a time, rascal? You were theincendiary. There's to put you in mind of your time. --A memorandum. [_Kicks him_. ]

BLUFF. Oh, this is your time, sir; you had best make use on't. 

SHARP. I--Gad and so I will: there's again for you. [_Kicks him_. ]

BLUFF. You are obliging, sir, but this is too public a place to thankyou in. But in your ear, you are to be seen again?

SHARP. Ay, thou inimitable coward, and to be felt--as for example. [_Kicks him_. ]

BELL. Ha, ha, ha, prithee come away; 'tis scandalous to kick this puppyunless a man were cold and had no other way to get himself aheat. 

SCENE IX. 

SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE. 

BLUFF. Very well--very fine--but 'tis no matter. Is not this fine, SirJoseph?

SIR JO. Indifferent, agad, in my opinion, very indifferent. I'd rathergo plain all my life than wear such finery. 

BLUFF. Death and hell to be affronted thus! I'll die before I'll sufferit. [_Draws_. ]

SIR JO. O Lord, his anger was not raised before. Nay, dear Captain, don't be in passion now he's gone. Put up, put up, dear Back, 'tis yourSir Joseph begs, come let me kiss thee; so, so, put up, put up. 

BLUFF. By heaven, 'tis not to be put up. 

SIR JO. What, Bully?

BLUFF. The affront. 

SIR JO. No, aged, no more 'tis, for that's put up all already; thysword, I mean. 

BLUFF. Well, Sir Joseph, at your entreaty--But were not you, my friend, abused, and cuffed, and kicked? [_Putting up his sword_. ]

SIR JO. Ay, ay, so were you too; no matter, 'tis past. 

BLUFF. By the immortal thunder of great guns, 'tis false--he sucks notvital air who dares affirm it to this face. [_Looks big_. ]

SIR JO. To that face I grant you, Captain. No, no, I grant you--not tothat face, by the Lord Harry. If you had put on your fighting facebefore, you had done his business--he durst as soon have kissed you, askicked you to your face. But a man can no more help what's done behindhis back than what's said--Come, we'll think no more of what's past. 

BLUFF. I'll call a council of war within to consider of my revenge tocome. 

SCENE X. 

HEARTWELL, SILVIA. _Silvia's apartment_. 

SONG. 

As Amoret and Thyrsis layMelting the hours in gentle play, Joining faces, mingling kisses, And exchanging harmless blisses:He trembling cried, with eager haste, O let me feed as well as taste, I die, if I'm not wholly blest. 

[_After the song a dance of antics_. ]

SILV. Indeed it is very fine. I could look upon 'em all day. 

HEART. Well has this prevailed for me, and will you look upon me?

SILV. If you could sing and dance so, I should love to look upon youtoo. 

HEART. Why, 'twas I sung and danced; I gave music to the voice, and lifeto their measures. Look you here, Silvia, [_pulling out a purse andchinking it_] here are songs and dances, poetry and music--hark! howsweetly one guinea rhymes to another--and how they dance to the music oftheir own chink. This buys all t'other--and this thou shalt have; this, and all that I am worth, for the purchase of thy love. Say, is it minethen, ha? Speak, Syren--Oons, why do I look on her! Yet I must. Speak, dear angel, devil, saint, witch; do not rack me with suspense. 

SILV. Nay, don't stare at me so. You make me blush--I cannot look. 

HEART. O manhood, where art thou? What am I come to? A woman's toy, atthese years! Death, a bearded baby for a girl to dandle. O dotage, dotage! That ever that noble passion, lust, should ebb to this degree. No reflux of vigorous blood: but milky love supplies the empty channels;and prompts me to the softness of a child--a mere infant and would suck. Can you love me, Silvia? Speak. 

SILV. I dare not speak until I believe you, and indeed I'm afraid tobelieve you yet. 

HEART. Death, how her innocence torments and pleases me! Lying, child, is indeed the art of love, and men are generally masters in it: but I'mso newly entered, you cannot distrust me of any skill in the treacherousmystery. Now, by my soul, I cannot lie, though it were to serve a friendor gain a mistress. 

SILV. Must you lie, then, if you say you love me?

HEART. No, no, dear ignorance, thou beauteous changeling--I tell thee Ido love thee, and tell it for a truth, a naked truth, which I'm ashamedto discover. 

SILV. But love, they say, is a tender thing, that will smooth frowns, and make calm an angry face; will soften a rugged temper, and make ill-humoured people good. You look ready to fright one, and talk as if yourpassion were not love, but anger. 

HEART. 'Tis both; for I am angry with myself when I am pleased with you. And a pox upon me for loving thee so well--yet I must on. 'Tis a beardedarrow, and will more easily be thrust forward than drawn back. 

SILV. Indeed, if I were well assured you loved; but how can I be wellassured?

HEART. Take the symptoms--and ask all the tyrants of thy sex if theirfools are not known by this party-coloured livery. I am melancholic whenthou art absent; look like an ass when thou art present; wake for theewhen I should sleep; and even dream of thee when I am awake; sigh much, drink little, eat less, court solitude, am grown very entertaining tomyself, and (as I am informed) very troublesome to everybody else. Ifthis be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable. Nay, yet amore certain sign than all this, I give thee my money. 

SILV. Ay, but that is no sign; for they say, gentlemen will give moneyto any naughty woman to come to bed to them. O Gemini, I hope you don'tmean so--for I won't be a whore. 

HEART. The more is the pity. [_Aside_. ]

SILV. Nay, if you would marry me, you should not come to bed to me--youhave such a beard, and would so prickle one. But do you intend to marryme?

HEART. That a fool should ask such a malicious question! Death, I shallbe drawn in before I know where I am. However, I find I am pretty sureof her consent, if I am put to it. [_Aside_. ] Marry you? No, no, I'lllove you. 

SILV. Nay, but if you love me, you must marry me. What, don't I know myfather loved my mother and was married to her?

HEART. Ay, ay, in old days people married where they loved; but thatfashion is changed, child. 

SILV. Never tell me that; I know it is not changed by myself: for I loveyou, and would marry you. 

HEART. I'll have my beard shaved, it sha'n't hurt thee, and we'll go tobed--

SILV. No, no, I'm not such a fool neither, but I can keep myself honest. Here, I won't keep anything that's yours; I hate you now, [_throws thepurse_] and I'll never see you again, 'cause you'd have me be naught. [_Going_. ]

HEART. Damn her, let her go, and a good riddance. Yet so muchtenderness and beauty and honesty together is a jewel. Stay, Silvia--Butthen to marry; why, every man plays the fool once in his life. But tomarry is playing the fool all one's life long. 

SILV. What did you call me for?

HEART. I'll give thee all I have, and thou shalt live with me ineverything so like my wife, the world shall believe it. Nay, thou shaltthink so thyself--only let me not think so. 

SILV. No, I'll die before I'll be your whore--as well as I love you. 

HEART. [_Aside_. ] A woman, and ignorant, may be honest, when 'tis outof obstinacy and contradiction. But, s'death, it is but a may be, andupon scurvy terms. Well, farewell then--if I can get out of sight I mayget the better of myself. 

SILV. Well--good-bye. [_Turns and weeps_. ]

HEART. Ha! Nay, come, we'll kiss at parting. [_Kisses her_. ] Byheaven, her kiss is sweeter than liberty. I will marry thee. There, thou hast done't. All my resolves melted in that kiss--one more. 

SILV. But when?

HEART. I'm impatient until it be done; I will not give myself liberty tothink, lest I should cool. I will about a licence straight--in theevening expect me. One kiss more to confirm me mad; so. 

SILV. Ha, ha, ha, an old fox trapped--

SCENE XI. 

[_To her_] LUCY. 

Bless me! you frighted me; I thought he had been come again, and hadheard me. 

LUCY. Lord, madam, I met your lover in as much haste as if he had beengoing for a midwife. 

SILV. He's going for a parson, girl, the forerunner of a midwife, somenine months hence. Well, I find dissembling to our sex is as natural asswimming to a negro; we may depend upon our skill to save us at a plunge, though till then, we never make the experiment. But how hast thousucceeded?

LUCY. As you would wish--since there is no reclaiming Vainlove. I havefound out a pique she has taken at him, and have framed a letter thatmakes her sue for reconciliation first. I know that will do--walk in andI'll show it you. Come, madam, you're like to have a happy time on't;both your love and anger satisfied! All that can charm our sex conspireto please you. 

That woman sure enjoys a blessed night, Whom love and vengeance both at once delight. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE I. 

SCENE: _The Street_. 

BELLMOUR, _in fanatic habit_, SETTER. 

BELL. 'Tis pretty near the hour. [_Looking on his watch_. ] Well, andhow, Setter, hae, does my hypocrisy fit me, hae? Does it sit easy on me?

SET. Oh, most religiously well, sir. 

BELL. I wonder why all our young fellows should glory in an opinion ofatheism, when they may be so much more conveniently lewd under thecoverlet of religion. 

SET. S'bud, sir, away quickly: there's Fondlewife just turned thecorner, and 's coming this way. 

BELL. Gad's so, there he is: he must not see me. 

SCENE II. 

FONDLEWIFE, BARNABY. 

FOND. I say I will tarry at home. 

BAR. But, sir. 

FOND. Good lack! I profess the spirit of contradiction hath possessedthe lad--I say I will tarry at home, varlet. 

BAR. I have done, sir; then farewell five hundred pound. 

FOND. Ha, how's that? Stay, stay, did you leave word, say you, with hiswife? With Comfort herself?

BAR. I did; and Comfort will send Tribulation hither as soon as ever hecomes home. I could have brought young Mr. Prig to have kept my mistresscompany in the meantime. But you say--

FOND. How, how, say, varlet! I say let him not come near my doors. Isay, he is a wanton young Levite, and pampereth himself up with dainties, that he may look lovely in the eyes of women. Sincerely, I am afraid hehath already defiled the tabernacle of our sister Comfort; while her goodhusband is deluded by his godly appearance. I say that even lust dothsparkle in his eyes and glow upon his cheeks, and that I would as soontrust my wife with a lord's high-fed chaplain. 

BAR. Sir, the hour draws nigh, and nothing will be done here until youcome. 

FOND. And nothing can be done here until I go; so that I'll tarry, de'esee. 

BAR. And run the hazard to lose your affair, sir!

FOND. Good lack, good lack--I profess it is a very sufficient vexationfor a man to have a handsome wife. 

BAR. Never, sir, but when the man is an insufficient husband. 'Tisthen, indeed, like the vanity of taking a fine house, and yet be forcedto let lodgings to help pay the rent. 

FOND. I profess a very apt comparison, varlet. Go and bid my Cocky comeout to me; I will give her some instructions, I will reason with herbefore I go. 

SCENE III. 

FONDLEWIFE _alone_. 

And in the meantime I will reason with myself. Tell me, Isaac, why artthee jealous? Why art thee distrustful of the wife of thy bosom? Becauseshe is young and vigorous, and I am old and impotent. Then why didstthee marry, Isaac? Because she was beautiful and tempting, and because Iwas obstinate and doting; so that my inclination was (and is still)greater than my power. And will not that which tempted thee, also temptothers, who will tempt her, Isaac? I fear it much. But does not thywife love thee, nay, dote upon thee? Yes. Why then! Ay, but to saytruth, she's fonder of me than she has reason to be; and in the way oftrade, we still suspect the smoothest dealers of the deepest designs. Andthat she has some designs deeper than thou canst reach, thou hastexperimented, Isaac. But, mum. 

SCENE IV. 

FONDLEWIFE, LAETITIA. 

LAET. I hope my dearest jewel is not going to leave me--are you, Nykin?

FOND. Wife--have you thoroughly considered how detestable, how heinous, and how crying a sin the sin of adultery is? Have you weighed it, I say?For it is a very weighty sin; and although it may lie heavy upon thee, yet thy husband must also bear his part. For thy iniquity will fall uponhis head. 

LAET. Bless me, what means my dear?

FOND. [_Aside_. ] I profess she has an alluring eye; I am doubtfulwhether I shall trust her, even with Tribulation himself. Speak, I say, have you considered what it is to cuckold your husband?

LAET. [_Aside_. ] I'm amazed. Sure he has discovered nothing. Who haswronged me to my dearest? I hope my jewel does not think that ever I hadany such thing in my head, or ever will have. 

FOND. No, no, I tell you I shall have it in my head--

LAET. [_Aside_. ] I know not what to think. But I'm resolved to findthe meaning of it. Unkind dear! Was it for this you sent to call me? Isit not affliction enough that you are to leave me, but you must study toincrease it by unjust suspicions? [_Crying_. ] Well--well--you know myfondness, and you love to tyrannise--Go on, cruel man, do: triumph overmy poor heart while it holds, which cannot be long, with this usage ofyours. But that's what you want. Well, you will have your ends soon. You will--you will. Yes, it will break to oblige you. [_Sighs_. ]

FOND. Verily, I fear I have carried the jest too far. Nay, look you nowif she does not weep--'tis the fondest fool. Nay, Cocky, Cocky, nay, dear Cocky, don't cry, I was but in jest, I was not, ifeck. 

LAET. [_Aside_. ] Oh then, all's safe. I was terribly frighted. Myaffliction is always your jest, barbarous man! Oh, that I should love tothis degree! Yet--

FOND. Nay, Cocky. 

LAET. No, no, you are weary of me, that's it--that's all, you would getanother wife--another fond fool, to break her heart--Well, be as cruel asyou can to me, I'll pray for you; and when I am dead with grief, may youhave one that will love you as well as I have done: I shall be contentedto lie at peace in my cold grave--since it will please you. [_Sighs_. ]

FOND. Good lack, good lack, she would melt a heart of oak--I profess Ican hold no longer. Nay, dear Cocky--ifeck, you'll break my heart--ifeckyou will. See, you have made me weep--made poor Nykin weep. Nay, comekiss, buss poor Nykin--and I won't leave thee--I'll lose all first. 

LAET. [_Aside_. ] How! Heaven forbid! that will be carrying the jesttoo far indeed. 

FOND. Won't you kiss Nykin?

LAET. Go, naughty Nykin, you don't love me. 

FOND. Kiss, kiss, ifeck, I do. 

LAET. No, you don't. [_She kisses him_. ]

FOND. What, not love Cocky!

LAET. No-h. [_Sighs_. ]

FOND. I profess I do love thee better than five hundred pound--and sothou shalt say, for I'll leave it to stay with thee. 

LAET. No you sha'n't neglect your business for me. No, indeed, yousha'n't, Nykin. If you don't go, I'll think you been dealous of mestill. 

FOND. He, he, he, wilt thou, poor fool? Then I will go, I won't bedealous. Poor Cocky, kiss Nykin, kiss Nykin, ee, ee, ee. Here will bethe good man anon, to talk to Cocky and teach her how a wife ought tobehave herself. 

LAET. [_Aside_. ] I hope to have one that will show me how a husbandought to behave himself. I shall be glad to learn, to please my jewel. [_Kiss_. ]

FOND. That's my good dear. Come, kiss Nykin once more, and then get youin. So--get you in, get you in. Bye, bye. 

LAET. Bye, Nykin. 

FOND. Bye, Cocky. 

LAET. Bye, Nykin. 

FOND. Bye, Cocky, bye, bye. 

SCENE V. 

VAINLOVE, SHARPER. 

SHARP. How! Araminta lost!

VAIN. To confirm what I have said, read this. [_Gives a letter_. ]

SHARP. [_Reads_. ] Hum, hum! And what then appeared a fault, uponreflection seems only an effect of a too powerful passion. I'm afraid Igive too great a proof of my own at this time. I am in disorder for whatI have written. But something, I know not what, forced me. I only beg afavourable censure of this and your ARAMINTA. 

SHARP. Lost! Pray heaven thou hast not lost thy wits. Here, here, she's thy own, man, signed and sealed too. To her, man--a deliciousmelon, pure and consenting ripe, and only waits thy cutting up: she hasbeen breeding love to thee all this while, and just now she's deliveredof it. 

VAIN. 'Tis an untimely fruit, and she has miscarried of her love. 

SHARP. Never leave this damned ill-natured whimsey, Frank? Thou hast asickly, peevish appetite; only chew love and cannot digest it. 

VAIN. Yes, when I feed myself. But I hate to be crammed. By heaven, there's not a woman will give a man the pleasure of a chase: my sport isalways balked or cut short. I stumble over the game I would pursue. 'Tisdull and unnatural to have a hare run full in the hounds' mouth, andwould distaste the keenest hunter. I would have overtaken, not have met, my game. 

SHARP. However, I hope you don't mean to forsake it; that will be but akind of mongrel cur's trick. Well, are you for the Mall?

VAIN. No; she will be there this evening. Yes, I will go too, and sheshall see her error in--

SHARP. In her choice, I-gad. But thou canst not be so great a brute asto slight her. 

VAIN. I should disappoint her if I did not. By her management I shouldthink she expects it. 

All naturally fly what does pursue:'Tis fit men should be coy when women woo. 

SCENE VI. 

_A Room in Fondlewife's House_. 

A SERVANT _introducing_ BELLMOUR, _in fanatic habit_, _with a patch uponone eye and a book in his hand_. 

SERV. Here's a chair, sir, if you please to repose yourself. Mymistress is coming, sir. 

BELL. Secure in my disguise I have out-faced suspicion and even dareddiscovery. This cloak my sanctity, and trusty Scarron's novels my prayer-book; methinks I am the very picture of Montufar in the Hypocrites. Oh!she comes. 

SCENE VII. 

BELLMOUR, LAETITIA. 

So breaks Aurora through the veil of night, Thus fly the clouds, divided by her light, And every eye receives a new-born sight. [_Throwing off his cloak_, _patch_, _etc. _]

LAET. Thus strewed with blushes, like--Ah! Heaven defend me! Who'sthis? [_Discovering him_, _starts_. ]

BELL. Your lover. 

LAET. Vainlove's friend! I know his face, and he has betrayed me tohim. [_Aside_. ]

BELL. You are surprised. Did you not expect a lover, madam? Those eyesshone kindly on my first appearance, though now they are o'ercast. 

LAET. I may well be surprised at your person and impudence: they areboth new to me. You are not what your first appearance promised: thepiety of your habit was welcome, but not the hypocrisy. 

BELL. Rather the hypocrisy was welcome, but not the hypocrite. 

LAET. Who are you, sir? You have mistaken the house sure. 

BELL. I have directions in my pocket which agree with everything butyour unkindness. [_Pulls out the letter_. ]

LAET. My letter! Base Vainlove! Then 'tis too late to dissemble. [_Aside_. ] 'Tis plain, then, you have mistaken the person. [_Going_. ]

BELL. If we part so I'm mistaken. Hold, hold, madam! I confess I haverun into an error. I beg your pardon a thousand times. What an eternalblockhead am I! Can you forgive me the disorder I have put you into? Butit is a mistake which anybody might have made. 

LAET. What can this mean? 'Tis impossible he should be mistaken afterall this. A handsome fellow if he had not surprised me. Methinks, now Ilook on him again, I would not have him mistaken. [_Aside_. ] We are allliable to mistakes, sir. If you own it to be so, there needs no fartherapology. 

BELL. Nay, faith, madam, 'tis a pleasant one, and worth your hearing. Expecting a friend last night, at his lodgings, till 'twas late, myintimacy with him gave me the freedom of his bed. He not coming home allnight, a letter was delivered to me by a servant in the morning. Uponthe perusal I found the contents so charming that I could think ofnothing all day but putting 'em in practice, until just now, the firsttime I ever looked upon the superscription, I am the most surprised inthe world to find it directed to Mr. Vainlove. Gad, madam, I ask you amillion of pardons, and will make you any satisfaction. 

LAET. I am discovered. And either Vainlove is not guilty, or he hashandsomely excused him. [_Aside_. ]

BELL. You appear concerned, madam. 

LAET. I hope you are a gentleman;--and since you are privy to a weakwoman's failing, won't turn it to the prejudice of her reputation. Youlook as if you had more honour--

BELL. And more love, or my face is a false witness and deserves to bepilloried. No, by heaven, I swear--

LAET. Nay, don't swear if you'd have me believe you; but promise--

BELL. Well, I promise. A promise is so cold: give me leave to swear, bythose eyes, those killing eyes, by those healing lips. Oh! press thesoft charm close to mine, and seal 'em up for ever. 

LAET. Upon that condition. [_He kisses her_. ]

BELL. Eternity was in that moment. One more, upon any condition!

LAET. Nay, now--I never saw anything so agreeably impudent. [_Aside_. ]Won't you censure me for this, now?--but 'tis to buy your silence. [_Kiss_. ] Oh, but what am I doing!

BELL. Doing! No tongue can express it--not thy own, nor anything, butthy lips. I am faint with the excess of bliss. Oh, for love-sake, leadme anywhither, where I may lie down --quickly, for I'm afraid I shallhave a fit. 

LAET. Bless me! What fit?

BELL. Oh, a convulsion--I feel the symptoms. 

LAET. Does it hold you long? I'm afraid to carry you into my chamber. 

BELL. Oh, no: let me lie down upon the bed; the fit will be soon over. 

SCENE VIII. 

SCENE: _St. James's Park_. 

ARAMINTA _and_ BELINDA _meeting_. 

BELIN. Lard, my dear, I am glad I have met you; I have been at theExchange since, and am so tired--

ARAM. Why, what's the matter?

BELIN. Oh the most inhuman, barbarous hackney-coach! I am jolted to ajelly. Am I not horribly touzed? [_Pulls out a pocket-glass_. ]

ARAM. Your head's a little out of order. 

BELIN. A little! O frightful! What a furious phiz I have! O mostrueful! Ha, ha, ha. O Gad, I hope nobody will come this way, till Ihave put myself a little in repair. Ah! my dear, I have seen such unhewncreatures since. Ha, ha, ha. I can't for my soul help thinking that Ilook just like one of 'em. Good dear, pin this, and I'll tell you--verywell--so, thank you, my dear--but as I was telling you--pish, this is theuntowardest lock--so, as I was telling you--how d'ye like me now?Hideous, ha? Frightful still? Or how?

ARAM. No, no; you're very well as can be. 

BELIN. And so--but where did I leave off, my dear? I was telling you--

ARAM. You were about to tell me something, child, but you left offbefore you began. 

BELIN. Oh; a most comical sight: a country squire, with the equipage ofa wife and two daughters, came to Mrs. Snipwel's shop while I wasthere--but oh Gad! two such unlicked cubs!

ARAM. I warrant, plump, cherry-cheeked country girls. 

BELIN. Ay, o' my conscience, fat as barn-door fowl: but so bedecked, youwould have taken 'em for Friesland hens, with their feathers growing thewrong way. O such outlandish creatures! Such Tramontanae, andforeigners to the fashion, or anything in practice! I had not patienceto behold. I undertook the modelling of one of their fronts, the moremodern structure--

ARAM. Bless me, cousin; why would you affront anybody so? They might begentlewomen of a very good family--

BELIN. Of a very ancient one, I dare swear, by their dress. Affront!pshaw, how you're mistaken! The poor creature, I warrant, was as full ofcurtsies, as if I had been her godmother. The truth on't is, I didendeavour to make her look like a Christian--and she was sensible of it, for she thanked me, and gave me two apples, piping hot, out of her under-petticoat pocket. Ha, ha, ha: and t'other did so stare and gape, Ifancied her like the front of her father's hall; her eyes were the twojut-windows, and her mouth the great door, most hospitably kept open forthe entertainment of travelling flies. 

ARAM. So then, you have been diverted. What did they buy?

BELIN. Why, the father bought a powder-horn, and an almanac, and a comb-case; the mother, a great fruz-towr, and a fat amber necklace; thedaughters only tore two pairs of kid-leather gloves, with trying 'em on. O Gad, here comes the fool that dined at my Lady Freelove's t'other day. 

SCENE IX. 

[_To them_] SIR JOSEPH _and_ BLUFFE. 

ARAM. May be he may not know us again. 

BELIN. We'll put on our masks to secure his ignorance. [_They put ontheir masks_. ]

SIR JO. Nay, Gad, I'll pick up; I'm resolved to make a night on't. I'llgo to Alderman Fondlewife by and by, and get fifty pieces more from him. Adslidikins, bully, we'll wallow in wine and women. Why, this sameMadeira wine has made me as light as a grasshopper. Hist, hist, bully, dost thou see those tearers? [_Sings_. ] Look you what here is--look youwhat here is--toll--loll--dera--toll--loll--agad, t'other glass ofMadeira, and I durst have attacked 'em in my own proper person, withoutyour help. 

BLUFF. Come on then, knight. But do you know what to say to them?

SIR JO. Say: pooh, pox, I've enough to say--never fear it--that is, if Ican but think on't: truth is, I have but a treacherous memory. 

BELIN. O frightful! cousin, what shall we do? These things come towardsus. 

ARAM. No matter. I see Vainlove coming this way--and, to confess myfailing, I am willing to give him an opportunity of making his peace withme--and to rid me of these coxcombs, when I seem opprest with 'em, willbe a fair one. 

BLUFF. Ladies, by these hilts you are well met. 

ARAM. We are afraid not. 

BLUFF. What says my pretty little knapsack carrier. [_To_ BELINDA. ]

BELIN. O monstrous filthy fellow! good slovenly Captain Huffe, Bluffe(what is your hideous name?) be gone: you stink of brandy and tobacco, most soldier-like. Foh. [_Spits_. ]

SIR JO. Now am I slap-dash down in the mouth, and have not one word tosay! [_Aside_. ]

ARAM. I hope my fool has not confidence enough to be troublesome. [_Aside_. ]

SIR JO. Hem! Pray, madam, which way is the wind?

ARAM. A pithy question. Have you sent your wits for a venture, sir, that you enquire?

SIR JO. Nay, now I'm in, I can prattle like a magpie. [_Aside_. ]

SCENE X. 

[_To them_] SHARPER _and_ VAINLOVE _at some distance_. 

BELIN. Dear Araminta, I'm tired. 

ARAM. 'Tis but pulling off our masks, and obliging Vainlove to know us. I'll be rid of my fool by fair means. --Well, Sir Joseph, you shall see myface; but, be gone immediately. I see one that will be jealous, to findme in discourse with you. Be discreet. No reply; but away. [_Unmasks_. ]

SIR JO. The great fortune, that dined at my Lady Freelove's! SirJoseph, thou art a made man. Agad, I'm in love up to the ears. But I'llbe discreet, and hushed. [_Aside_. ]

BLUFF. Nay, by the world, I'll see your face. 

BELIN. You shall. [_Unmasks_. ]

SHARP. Ladies, your humble servant. We were afraid you would not havegiven us leave to know you. 

ARAM. We thought to have been private. But we find fools have the sameadvantage over a face in a mask that a coward has while the sword is inthe scabbard, so were forced to draw in our own defence. 

BLUFF. My blood rises at that fellow: I can't stay where he is; and Imust not draw in the park. [_To_ SIR JOSEPH. ]

SIR JO. I wish I durst stay to let her know my lodging. 

SCENE XI. 

ARAMINTA, BELINDA, VAINLOVE, SHARPER. 

SHARP. There is in true beauty, as in courage, somewhat which narrowsouls cannot dare to admire. And see, the owls are fled, as at the breakof day. 

BELIN. Very courtly. I believe Mr. Vainlove has not rubbed his eyessince break of day neither, he looks as if he durst not approach. Nay, come, cousin, be friends with him. I swear he looks so very simply--ha, ha, ha. Well, a lover in the state of separation from his mistress islike a body without a soul. Mr. Vainlove, shall I be bound for your goodbehaviour for the future?

VAIN. Now must I pretend ignorance equal to hers, of what she knows aswell as I. [_Aside_. ] Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they findmost goodness to forgive. But, madam, I hope I shall prove of a tempernot to abuse mercy by committing new offences. 

ARAM. So cold! [_Aside_. ]

BELIN. I have broke the ice for you, Mr. Vainlove, and so I leave you. Come, Mr. Sharper, you and I will take a turn, and laugh at thevulgar--both the great vulgar and the small. O Gad! I have a greatpassion for Cowley. Don't you admire him?

SHARP. Oh, madam! he was our English Horace. 

BELIN. Ah so fine! so extremely fine! So everything in the world that Ilike--O Lord, walk this way--I see a couple; I'll give you their history. 

SCENE XII. 

ARAMINTA, VAINLOVE. 

VAIN. I find, madam, the formality of the law must be observed, thoughthe penalty of it be dispensed with, and an offender must plead to hisarraignment, though he has his pardon in his pocket. 

ARAM. I'm amazed! This insolence exceeds t'other; whoever hasencouraged you to this assurance, presuming upon the easiness of mytemper, has much deceived you, and so you shall find. 

VAIN. Hey day! Which way now? Here's fine doubling. [_Aside_. ]

ARAM. Base man! Was it not enough to affront me with your saucypassion?

VAIN. You have given that passion a much kinder epithet than saucy, inanother place. 

ARAM. Another place! Some villainous design to blast my honour. Butthough thou hadst all the treachery and malice of thy sex, thou canst notlay a blemish on my fame. No, I have not erred in one favourable thoughtof mankind. How time might have deceived me in you, I know not; myopinion was but young, and your early baseness has prevented its growingto a wrong belief. Unworthy and ungrateful! be gone, and never see memore. 

VAIN. Did I dream? or do I dream? Shall I believe my eyes, or ears? Thevision is here still. Your passion, madam, will admit of no fartherreasoning; but here's a silent witness of your acquaintance. [_Takes ourthe letter_, _and offers it_: _she snatches it_, _and throws it away_. ]

ARAM. There's poison in everything you touch. Blisters will follow--

VAIN. That tongue, which denies what the hands have done. 

ARAM. Still mystically senseless and impudent; I find I must leave theplace. 

VAIN. No, madam, I'm gone. She knows her name's to it, which she willbe unwilling to expose to the censure of the first finder. 

ARAM. Woman's obstinacy made me blind to what woman's curiosity nowtempts me to see. [_Takes up the letter_. ]

SCENE XIII. 

BELINDA, SHARPER. 

BELIN. Nay, we have spared nobody, I swear. Mr. Sharper, you're a pureman; where did you get this excellent talent of railing?

SHARP. Faith, madam, the talent was born with me:--I confess I havetaken care to improve it, to qualify me for the society of ladies. 

BELIN. Nay, sure, railing is the best qualification in a woman's man. 

SCENE XIV. 

[_To them_] FOOTMAN. 

SHARP. The second best, indeed, I think. 

BELIN. How now, Pace? Where's my cousin?

FOOT. She's not very well, madam, and has sent to know if your ladyshipwould have the coach come again for you?

BELIN. O Lord, no, I'll go along with her. Come, Mr. Sharper. 

SCENE XV. 

SCENE: _A chamber in Fondlewife's house_. 

LAETITIA and BELLMOUR, his cloak, hat, etc. , lying loose about thechamber. 

BELL. Here's nobody, nor no noise--'twas nothing but your fears. 

LAET. I durst have sworn I had heard my monster's voice. I swear I washeartily frightened; feel how my heart beats. 

BELL. 'Tis an alarm to love--come in again, and let us--

FOND. [_Without_. ] Cocky, Cocky, where are you, Cocky? I'm come home. 

LAET. Ah! There he is. Make haste, gather up your things. 

FOND. Cocky, Cocky, open the door. 

BELL. Pox choke him, would his horns were in his throat. My patch, mypatch. [_Looking about_, _and gathering up his things_. ]

LAET. My jewel, art thou there?--No matter for your patch. --You s'an'ttum in, Nykin--run into my chamber, quickly, quickly--You s'an't tum in. 

FOND. Nay, prithee, dear, i'feck I'm in haste. 

LAET. Then I'll let you in. [_Opens the door_. ]

SCENE XVI. 

LAETITIA, FONDLEWIFE, SIR JOSEPH. 

FOND. Kiss, dear--I met the master of the ship by the way, and I musthave my papers of accounts out of your cabinet. 

LAET. Oh, I'm undone! [_Aside_. ]

SIR JO. Pray, first let me have fifty pound, good Alderman, for I'm inhaste. 

FOND. A hundred has already been paid by your order. Fifty? I have thesum ready in gold in my closet. 

SCENE XVII. 

LAETITIA, SIR JOSEPH. 

SIR JO. Agad, it's a curious, fine, pretty rogue; I'll speak toher. --Pray, Madam, what news d'ye hear?

LAET. Sir, I seldom stir abroad. [_Walks about in disorder_. ]

SIR JO. I wonder at that, Madam, for 'tis most curious fine weather. 

LAET. Methinks 't has been very ill weather. 

SIR JO. As you say, madam, 'tis pretty bad weather, and has been so agreat while. 

SCENE XVIII. 

[_To them_] FONDLEWIFE. 

FOND. Here are fifty pieces in this purse, Sir Joseph; if you will tarrya moment, till I fetch my papers, I'll wait upon you down-stairs. 

LAET. Ruined, past redemption! what shall I do--ha! this fool may be ofuse. (Aside. ) [_As_ FONDLEWIFE _is going into the chamber_, _she runsto_ SIR JOSEPH, _almost pushes him down_, _and cries out_. ] Stand off, rude ruffian. Help me, my dear. O bless me! Why will you leave mealone with such a Satyr?

FOND. Bless us! What's the matter? What's the matter?

LAET. Your back was no sooner turned, but like a lion he came openmouthed upon me, and would have ravished a kiss from me by main force. 

SIR JO. O Lord! Oh, terrible! Ha, ha, ha. Is your wife mad, Alderman?

LAET. Oh! I'm sick with the fright; won't you take him out of my sight?

FOND. O traitor! I'm astonished. O bloody-minded traitor!

SIR JO. Hey-day! Traitor yourself. By the Lord Harry, I was in mostdanger of being ravished, if you go to that. 

FOND. Oh, how the blasphemous wretch swears! Out of my house, thou sonof the whore of Babylon; offspring of Bel and the Dragon. --Bless us!ravish my wife! my Dinah! Oh, Shechemite! Begone, I say. 

SIR JO. Why, the devil's in the people, I think. 

SCENE XIX. 

LAETITIA, FONDLEWIFE. 

LAET. Oh! won't you follow, and see him out of doors, my dear?

FOND. I'll shut this door to secure him from coming back--Give me thekey of your cabinet, Cocky. Ravish my wife before my face? I warranthe's a Papist in his heart at least, if not a Frenchman. 

LAET. What can I do now! (Aside. ) Oh! my dear, I have been in such afright, that I forgot to tell you, poor Mr. Spintext has a sad fit of thecolic, and is forced to lie down upon our bed--you'll disturb him; I cantread softlier. 

FOND. Alack, poor man--no, no--you don't know the papers--I won'tdisturb him; give me the key. [_She gives him the key_, _goes to thechamber door and speaks aloud_. ]

LAET. 'Tis nobody but Mr. Fondlewife, Mr. Spintext, lie still on yourstomach; lying on your stomach will ease you of the colic. 

FOND. Ay, ay, lie still, lie still; don't let me disturb you. 

SCENE XX. 

LAETITIA _alone_. 

LAET. Sure, when he does not see his face, he won't discover him. Dearfortune, help me but this once, and I'll never run in thy debt again. Butthis opportunity is the Devil. 

SCENE XXI. 

FONDLEWIFE _returns with Papers_. 

FOND. Good lack! good lack! I profess the poor man is in great torment;he lies as flat--Dear, you should heat a trencher, or a napkin. --Where'sDeborah? Let her clap some warm thing to his stomach, or chafe it with awarm hand rather than fail. What book's this? [_Sees the book that_BELLMOUR _forgot_. ]

LAET. Mr. Spintext's prayer-book, dear. Pray Heaven it be aprayer-book. [_Aside_. ]

FOND. Good man! I warrant he dropped it on purpose that you might takeit up and read some of the pious ejaculations. [_Taking up the book_. ] Obless me! O monstrous! A prayer-book? Ay, this is the devil'spaternoster. Hold, let me see: The Innocent Adultery. 

LAET. Misfortune! now all's ruined again. [_Aside_. ]

BELL. [_Peeping_]. Damned chance! If I had gone a-whoring with thePractice of Piety in my pocket I had never been discovered. 

FOND. Adultery, and innocent! O Lord! Here's doctrine! Ay, here'sdiscipline!

LAET. Dear husband, I'm amazed. Sure it is a good book, and only tendsto the speculation of sin. 

FOND. Speculation! No no; something went farther than speculation whenI was not to be let in. --Where is this apocryphal elder? I'll ferrethim. 

LAET. I'm so distracted, I can't think of a lie. [_Aside_. ]

SCENE XXII. 

LAETITIA _and_ FONDLEWIFE _haling out_ BELLMOUR. 

FOND. Come out here, thou Ananias incarnate. Who, how now! Who have wehere?

LAET. Ha! [_Shrieks as surprised_. ]

FOND. Oh thou salacious woman! Am I then brutified? Ay, I feel ithere; I sprout, I bud, I blossom, I am ripe-horn-mad. But who in thedevil's name are you? Mercy on me for swearing. But--

LAET. Oh! goodness keep us! Who are you? What are you?

BELL. Soh!

LAET. In the name of the--O! Good, my dear, don't come near it; I'mafraid 'tis the devil; indeed, it has hoofs, dear. 

FOND. Indeed, and I have horns, dear. The devil, no, I am afraid 'tisthe flesh, thou harlot. Dear, with the pox. Come Syren, speak, confess, who is this reverend, brawny pastor. 

LAET. Indeed, and indeed now, my dear Nykin, I never saw this wicked manbefore. 

FOND. Oh, it is a man then, it seems. 

LAET. Rather, sure it is a wolf in the clothing of a sheep. 

FOND. Thou art a devil in his proper clothing--woman's flesh. What, youknow nothing of him, but his fleece here! You don't love mutton? youMagdalen unconverted. 

BELL. Well, now, I know my cue. --That is, very honourably to excuse her, and very impudently accuse myself. [_Aside_. ]

LAET. Why then, I wish I may never enter into the heaven of yourembraces again, my dear, if ever I saw his face before. 

FOND. O Lord! O strange! I am in admiration of your impudence. Lookat him a little better; he is more modest, I warrant you, than to denyit. Come, were you two never face to face before? Speak. 

BELL. Since all artifice is vain. And I think myself obliged to speakthe truth in justice to your wife. --No. 

FOND. Humph. 

LAET. No, indeed, dear. 

FOND. Nay, I find you are both in a story; that I must confess. But, what--not to be cured of the colic? Don't you know your patient, Mrs. Quack? Oh, 'lie upon your stomach; lying upon your stomach will cure youof the colic. ' Ah! answer me, Jezebel?

LAET. Let the wicked man answer for himself: does he think I havenothing to do but excuse him? 'tis enough if I can clear my own innocenceto my own dear. 

BELL. By my troth, and so 'tis. I have been a little too backward;that's the truth on't. 

FOND. Come, sir, who are you, in the first place? And what are you?

BELL. A whore-master. 

FOND. Very concise. 

LAET. O beastly, impudent creature. 

FOND. Well, sir, and what came you hither for?

BELL. To lie with your wife. 

FOND. Good again. A very civil person this, and I believe speaks truth. 

LAET. Oh, insupportable impudence. 

FOND. Well, sir; pray be covered--and you have--Heh! You have finishedthe matter, heh? And I am, as I should be, a sort of civil perquisite toa whore-master, called a cuckold, heh? Is it not so? Come, I'minclining to believe every word you say. 

BELL. Why, faith, I must confess, so I designed you; but you were alittle unlucky in coming so soon, and hindered the making of your ownfortune. 

FOND. Humph. Nay, if you mince the matter once and go back of your wordyou are not the person I took you for. Come, come, go on boldly. --What, don't be ashamed of your profession. --Confess, confess; I shall love theethe better for't. I shall, i'feck. What, dost think I don't know how tobehave myself in the employment of a cuckold, and have been three yearsapprentice to matrimony? Come, come; plain dealing is a jewel. 

BELL. Well, since I see thou art a good, honest fellow, I'll confess thewhole matter to thee. 

FOND. Oh, I am a very honest fellow. You never lay with an honesterman's wife in your life. 

LAET. How my heart aches! All my comfort lies in his impudence, andheaven be praised, he has a considerable portion. [_Aside_. ]

BELL. In short, then, I was informed of the opportunity of your absenceby my spy (for faith, honest Isaac, I have a long time designed thee thisfavour). I knew Spintext was to come by your direction. But I laid atrap for him, and procured his habit, in which I passed upon yourservants, and was conducted hither. I pretended a fit of the colic, toexcuse my lying down upon your bed; hoping that when she heard of it, hergood nature would bring her to administer remedies for my distemper. Youknow what might have followed. But, like an uncivil person, you knockedat the door before your wife was come to me. 

FOND. Ha! This is apocryphal; I may choose whether I will believe it orno. 

BELL. That you may, faith, and I hope you won't believe a word on't--butI can't help telling the truth, for my life. 

FOND. How! would not you have me believe you, say you?

BELL. No; for then you must of consequence part with your wife, andthere will be some hopes of having her upon the public; then theencouragement of a separate maintenance--

FOND. No, no; for that matter, when she and I part, she'll carry herseparate maintenance about her. 

LAET. Ah, cruel dear, how can you be so barbarous? You'll break myheart, if you talk of parting. [_Cries_. ]

FOND. Ah, dissembling vermin!

BELL. How can'st thou be so cruel, Isaac? Thou hast the heart of amountain-tiger. By the faith of a sincere sinner, she's innocent for me. Go to him, madam, fling your snowy arms about his stubborn neck; bathehis relentless face in your salt trickling tears. [_She goes and hangsupon his neck_, _and kisses him_. BELLMOUR _kisses her hand behind_FONDLEWIFE'S _back_. ] So, a few soft words, and a kiss, and the good manmelts. See how kind nature works, and boils over in him. 

LAET. Indeed, my dear, I was but just come down stairs, when you knockedat the door; and the maid told me Mr. Spintext was ill of the colic uponour bed. And won't you speak to me, cruel Nykin? Indeed, I'll die, ifyou don't. 

FOND. Ah! No, no, I cannot speak, my heart's so full--I have been atender husband, a tender yoke-fellow; you know I have. --But thou hastbeen a faithless Delilah, and the Philistines--Heh! Art thou not vileand unclean, heh? Speak. [_Weeping_. ]

LAET. No-h. [_Sighing_. ]

FOND. Oh that I could believe thee!

LAET. Oh, my heart will break. [_Seeming to faint_. ]

FOND. Heh, how! No, stay, stay, I will believe thee, I will. Pray bendher forward, sir. 

LAET. Oh! oh! Where is my dear?

FOND. Here, here; I do believe thee. I won't believe my own eyes. 

BELL. For my part, I am so charmed with the love of your turtle to you, that I'll go and solicit matrimony with all my might and main. 

FOND. Well, well, sir; as long as I believe it, 'tis well enough. Nothanks to you, sir, for her virtue. --But, I'll show you the way out of myhouse, if you please. Come, my dear. Nay, I will believe thee, I do, i'feck. 

BELL. See the great blessing of an easy faith; opinion cannot err. 

 No husband, by his wife, can be deceived; She still is virtuous, if she's so believed. 

ACT V. 

SCENE I. 

SCENE: _The Street_. 

BELLMOUR _in fanatic habit_, SETTER, HEARTWELL, LUCY. 

BELL. Setter! Well encountered. 

SET. Joy of your return, sir. Have you made a good voyage? or have youbrought your own lading back?

BELL. No, I have brought nothing but ballast back--made a deliciousvoyage, Setter; and might have rode at anchor in the port till this time, but the enemy surprised us--I would unrig. 

SET. I attend you, sir. 

BELL. Ha! Is it not that Heartwell at Sylvia's door? Be gone quickly, I'll follow you--I would not be known. Pox take 'em, they stand just inmy way. 

SCENE II. 

BELLMOUR, HEARTWELL, LUCY. 

HEART. I'm impatient till it be done. 

LUCY. That may be, without troubling yourself to go again for yourbrother's chaplain. Don't you see that stalking form of godliness?

HEART. O ay; he's a fanatic. 

LUCY. An executioner qualified to do your business. He has beenlawfully ordained. 

HEART. I'll pay him well, if you'll break the matter to him. 

LUCY. I warrant you. --Do you go and prepare your bride. 

SCENE III. 

BELLMOUR, LUCY. 

BELL. Humph, sits the wind there? What a lucky rogue am I! Oh, whatsport will be here, if I can persuade this wench to secrecy!

LUCY. Sir: reverend sir. 

BELL. Madam. [_Discovers himself_. ]

LUCY. Now, goodness have mercy upon me! Mr. Bellmour! is it you?

BELL. Even I. What dost think?

LUCY. Think! That I should not believe my eyes, and that you are notwhat you seem to be. 

BELL. True. But to convince thee who I am, thou knowest my old token. [_Kisses her_. ]

LUCY. Nay, Mr. Bellmour: O Lard! I believe you are a parson in goodearnest, you kiss so devoutly. 

BELL. Well, your business with me, Lucy?

LUCY. I had none, but through mistake. 

BELL. Which mistake you must go through with, Lucy. Come, I know theintrigue between Heartwell and your mistress; and you mistook me forTribulation Spintext, to marry 'em--Ha? are not matters in this posture?Confess: come, I'll be faithful; I will, i'faith. What! diffide in me, Lucy?

LUCY. Alas-a-day! You and Mr. Vainlove, between you, have ruined mypoor mistress: you have made a gap in her reputation; and can you blameher if she make it up with a husband?

BELL. Well, is it as I say?

LUCY. Well, it is then: but you'll be secret?

BELL. Phuh, secret, ay. And to be out of thy debt, I'll trust thee withanother secret. Your mistress must not marry Heartwell, Lucy. 

LUCY. How! O Lord!

BELL. Nay, don't be in passion, Lucy:--I'll provide a fitter husband forher. Come, here's earnest of my good intentions for thee too; let thismollify. [_Gives her money_. ] Look you, Heartwell is my friend; andthough he be blind, I must not see him fall into the snare, andunwittingly marry a whore. 

LUCY. Whore! I'd have you to know my mistress scorns--

BELL. Nay, nay: look you, Lucy; there are whores of as good quality. Butto the purpose, if you will give me leave to acquaint you with it. Doyou carry on the mistake of me: I'll marry 'em. Nay, don't pause; if youdo, I'll spoil all. I have some private reasons for what I do, whichI'll tell you within. In the meantime, I promise--and rely upon me--tohelp your mistress to a husband: nay, and thee too, Lucy. Here's myhand, I will; with a fresh assurance. [_Gives her more money_. ]

LUCY. Ah, the devil is not so cunning. You know my easy nature. Well, for once I'll venture to serve you; but if you do deceive me, the curseof all kind, tender-hearted women light upon you!

BELL. That's as much as to say, the pox take me. Well, lead on. 

SCENE IV. 

VAINLOVE, SHARPER, _and_ SETTER. 

SHARP. Just now, say you; gone in with Lucy?

SET. I saw him, sir, and stood at the corner where you found me, andoverheard all they said: Mr. Bellmour is to marry 'em. 

SHARP. Ha, ha; it will be a pleasant cheat. I'll plague Heartwell whenI see him. Prithee, Frank, let's tease him; make him fret till he foamat the mouth, and disgorge his matrimonial oath with interest. Come, thou'rt musty--

SET. [_To_ SHARPER. ] Sir, a word with you. [_Whispers him_. ]

VAIN. Sharper swears she has forsworn the letter--I'm sure he tells metruth;--but I'm not sure she told him truth: yet she was unaffectedlyconcerned, he says, and often blushed with anger and surprise: and so Iremember in the park. She had reason, if I wrong her. I begin to doubt. 

SHARP. Say'st thou so?

SET. This afternoon, sir, about an hour before my master received theletter. 

SHARP. In my conscience, like enough. 

SET. Ay, I know her, sir; at least, I'm sure I can fish it out of her:she's the very sluice to her lady's secrets: 'tis but setting her millagoing, and I can drain her of 'em all. 

SHARP. Here, Frank, your bloodhound has made out the fault: this letter, that so sticks in thy maw, is counterfeit; only a trick of Sylvia inrevenge, contrived by Lucy. 

VAIN. Ha! It has a colour; but how do you know it, sirrah?

SET. I do suspect as much; because why, sir, she was pumping me abouthow your worship's affairs stood towards Madam Araminta; as, when you hadseen her last? when you were to see her next? and, where you were to befound at that time? and such like. 

VAIN. And where did you tell her?

SET. In the Piazza. 

VAIN. There I received the letter--it must be so--and why did you notfind me out, to tell me this before, sot?

SET. Sir, I was pimping for Mr. Bellmour. 

SHARP. You were well employed: I think there is no objection to theexcuse. 

VAIN. Pox of my saucy credulity--if I have lost her, I deserve it. Butif confession and repentance be of force, I'll win her, or weary her intoa forgiveness. 

SHARP. Methinks I long to see Bellmour come forth. 

SCENE V. 

SHARPER, BELLMOUR, SETTER. 

SET. Talk of the devil: see where he comes. 

SHARP. Hugging himself in his prosperous mischief--no real fanatic canlook better pleased after a successful sermon of sedition. 

BELL. Sharper! Fortify thy spleen: such a jest! Speak when thou artready. 

SHARP. Now, were I ill-natured would I utterly disappoint thy mirth:hear thee tell thy mighty jest with as much gravity as a bishop hearsvenereal causes in the spiritual court. Not so much as wrinkle my facewith one smile; but let thee look simply, and laugh by thyself. 

BELL. Pshaw, no; I have a better opinion of thy wit. Gad, I defy thee. 

SHARP. Were it not loss of time you should make the experiment. Buthonest Setter, here, overheard you with Lucy, and has told me all. 

BELL. Nay, then, I thank thee for not putting me out of countenance. But, to tell you something you don't know. I got an opportunity after Ihad married 'em, of discovering the cheat to Sylvia. She took it atfirst, as another woman would the like disappointment; but my promise tomake her amends quickly with another husband somewhat pacified her. 

SHARP. But how the devil do you think to acquit yourself of yourpromise? Will you marry her yourself?

BELL. I have no such intentions at present. Prithee, wilt thou think alittle for me? I am sure the ingenious Mr. Setter will assist. 

SET. O Lord, sir!

BELL. I'll leave him with you, and go shift my habit. 

SCENE VI. 

SHARPER, SETTER, SIR JOSEPH, and BLUFFE. 

SHARP. Heh! Sure fortune has sent this fool hither on purpose. Setter, stand close; seem not to observe 'em; and, hark ye. [_Whispers_. ]

BLUFF. Fear him not. I am prepared for him now, and he shall find hemight have safer roused a sleeping lion. 

SIR JO. Hush, hush! don't you see him?

BLUFF. Show him to me. Where is he?

SIR JO. Nay, don't speak so loud. I don't jest as I did a little whileago. Look yonder! Agad, if he should hear the lion roar, he'd cudgelhim into an ass, and his primitive braying. Don't you remember the storyin AEsop's Fables, bully? Agad, there are good morals to be picked outof AEsop's Fables, let me tell you that, and Reynard the Fox too. 

BLUFF. Damn your morals. 

SIR JO. Prithee, don't speak so loud. 

BLUFF. Damn your morals; I must revenge the affront done to my honour. [_In a low voice_. ]

SIR JO. Ay; do, do, captain, if you think fitting. You may dispose ofyour own flesh as you think fitting, d'ye see, but, by the Lord Harry, I'll leave you. [_Stealing away upon his tip-toes_. ]

BLUFF. Prodigious! What, will you forsake your friend in extremity? Youcan't in honour refuse to carry him a challenge. [_Almost whispering_, _and treading softly after him_. ]

SIR JO. Prithee, what do you see in my face that looks as if I wouldcarry a challenge? Honour is your province, captain; take it. All theworld know me to be a knight, and a man of worship. 

SET. I warrant you, sir, I'm instructed. 

SHARP. Impossible! Araminta take a liking to a fool? [_Aloud_. ]

SET. Her head runs on nothing else, nor she can talk of nothing else. 

SHARP. I know she commanded him all the while we were in the Park; but Ithought it had been only to make Vainlove jealous. 

SIR JO. How's this! Good bully, hold your breath and let's hearken. Agad, this must be I. 

SHARP. Death, it can't be. An oaf, an idiot, a wittal. 

SIR JO. Ay, now it's out; 'tis I, my own individual person. 

SHARP. A wretch that has flown for shelter to the lowest shrub ofmankind, and seeks protection from a blasted coward. 

SIR JO. That's you, bully back. [BLUFFE _frowns upon_ SIR JOSEPH. ]

SHARP. She has given Vainlove her promise to marry him before to-morrowmorning. Has she not? [_To_ SETTER. ]

SET. She has, sir; and I have it in charge to attend her all thisevening, in order to conduct her to the place appointed. 

SHARP. Well, I'll go and inform your master; and do you press her tomake all the haste imaginable. 

SCENE VII. 

SETTER, SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE. 

SET. Were I a rogue now, what a noble prize could I dispose of! Agoodly pinnace, richly laden, and to launch forth under my auspiciousconvoy. Twelve thousand pounds and all her rigging, besides what liesconcealed under hatches. Ha! all this committed to my care! Avaunt, temptation! Setter, show thyself a person of worth; be true to thytrust, and be reputed honest. Reputed honest! Hum: is that all? Ay;for to be honest is nothing; the reputation of it is all. Reputation!what have such poor rogues as I to do with reputation? 'tis above us; andfor men of quality, they are above it; so that reputation is even asfoolish a thing as honesty. And, for my part, if I meet Sir Joseph witha purse of gold in his hand, I'll dispose of mine to the best advantage. 

SIR JO. Heh, heh, heh: Here 'tis for you, i'faith, Mr. Setter. Nay, I'll take you at your word. [_Chinking a purse_. ]

SET. Sir Joseph and the captain, too! undone! undone! I'm undone, mymaster's undone, my lady's undone, and all the business is undone. 

SIR JO. No, no; never fear, man; the lady's business shall be done. What, come, Mr. Setter, I have overheard all, and to speak is but loss oftime; but if there be occasion, let these worthy gentlemen intercede forme. [_Gives him gold_. ]

SET. O lord, sir, what d'ye mean? Corrupt my honesty? They have indeedvery persuading faces. But--

SIR JO. 'Tis too little, there's more, man. There, take all. Now--

SET. Well, Sir Joseph, you have such a winning way with you--

SIR JO. And how, and how, good Setter, did the little rogue look whenshe talked of Sir Joseph? Did not her eyes twinkle and her mouth water?Did not she pull up her little bubbies? And--agad, I'm so overjoyed--Andstroke down her belly? and then step aside to tie her garter when she wasthinking of her love? Heh, Setter!

SET. Oh, yes, sir. 

SIR JO. How now, bully? What, melancholy because I'm in the lady'sfavour? No matter, I'll make your peace: I know they were a little smartupon you. But I warrant I'll bring you into the lady's good graces. 

BLUFF. Pshaw, I have petitions to show from other-guess toys than she. Look here; these were sent me this morning. There, read. [_Showsletters_]. That--that's a scrawl of quality. Here, here's from acountess too. Hum--No, hold--that's from a knight's wife--she sent it meby her husband. But here, both these are from persons of great quality. 

SIR JO. They are either from persons of great quality, or no quality atall, 'tis such a damned ugly hand. [_While_ SIR JOSEPH _reads_, BLUFFE_whispers_ SETTER. ]

SET. Captain, I would do anything to serve you; but this is sodifficult. 

BLUFF. Not at all. Don't I know him?

SET. You'll remember the conditions?

BLUFF. I'll give it you under my hand. In the meantime, here's earnest. [_Gives him money_. ] Come, knight, I'm capitulating with Mr. Setter foryou. 

SIR JO. Ah, honest Setter; sirrah, I'll give thee anything but a night'slodging. 

SCENE VIII. 

SHARPER _tugging in_ HEARTWELL. 

SHARP. Nay, prithee leave railing, and come along with me. May be shemayn't be within. 'Tis but to yond corner-house. 

HEART. Whither? Whither? Which corner-house. 

SHARP. Why, there: the two white posts. 

HEART. And who would you visit there, say you? (O'ons, how my heartaches. )

SHARP. Pshaw, thou'rt so troublesome and inquisitive. My, I'll tellyou; 'tis a young creature that Vainlove debauched and has forsaken. Didyou never hear Bellmour chide him about Sylvia?

HEART. Death, and hell, and marriage! My wife! [_Aside_. ]

SHARP. Why, thou art as musty as a new-married man that had found hiswife knowing the first night. 

HEART. Hell, and the Devil! Does he know it? But, hold; if he shouldnot, I were a fool to discover it. I'll dissemble, and try him. [_Aside_. ] Ha, ha, ha. Why, Tom, is that such an occasion ofmelancholy? Is it such an uncommon mischief?

SHARP. No, faith; I believe not. Few women but have their year ofprobation before they are cloistered in the narrow joys of wedlock. But, prithee, come along with me or I'll go and have the lady to myself. B'w'yGeorge. [_Going_. ]

HEART. O torture! How he racks and tears me! Death! Shall I own myshame or wittingly let him go and whore my wife? No, that'sinsupportable. O Sharper!

SHARP. How now?

HEART. Oh, I am married. 

SHARP. (Now hold, spleen. ) Married!

HEART. Certainly, irrecoverably married. 

SHARP. Heaven forbid, man! How long?

HEART. Oh, an age, an age! I have been married these two hours. 

SHARP. My old bachelor married! That were a jest. Ha, ha, ha. 

HEART. Death! D'ye mock me? Hark ye, if either you esteem myfriendship, or your own safety--come not near that house--that corner-house--that hot brothel. Ask no questions. 

SHARP. Mad, by this light. 

Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure:Married in haste, we may repent at leisure. 

SCENE IX. 

SHARPER, SETTER. 

SET. Some by experience find these words misplaced:At leisure married, they repent in haste. 

As I suppose my master Heartwell. 

SHARP. Here again, my Mercury!

SET. Sublimate, if you please, sir: I think my achievements do deservethe epithet--Mercury was a pimp too, but, though I blush to own it, atthis time, I must confess I am somewhat fallen from the dignity of myfunction, and do condescend to be scandalously employed in the promotionof vulgar matrimony. 

SHARP. As how, dear, dexterous pimp?

SET. Why, to be brief, for I have weighty affairs depending--ourstratagem succeeded as you intended--Bluffe turns errant traitor; bribesme to make a private conveyance of the lady to him, and put ashame-settlement upon Sir Joseph. 

SHARP. O rogue! Well, but I hope--

SET. No, no; never fear me, sir. I privately informed the knight of thetreachery, who has agreed seemingly to be cheated, that the captain maybe so in reality. 

SHARP. Where's the bride?

SET. Shifting clothes for the purpose, at a friend's house of mine. Here's company coming; if you'll walk this way, sir, I'll tell you. 

SCENE X. 

BELLMOUR, BELINDA, ARAMINTA, _and_ VAINLOVE. 

VAIN. Oh, 'twas frenzy all: cannot you forgive it? Men in madness havea title to your pity. [_To_ ARAMINTA. ]

ARAM. Which they forfeit, when they are restored to their senses. 

VAIN. I am not presuming beyond a pardon. 

ARAM. You who could reproach me with one counterfeit, how insolent woulda real pardon make you! But there's no need to forgive what is not worthmy anger. 

BELIN. O' my conscience, I could find in my heart to marry thee, purelyto be rid of thee--at least thou art so troublesome a lover, there'shopes thou'lt make a more than ordinary quiet husband. [_To_ BELLMOUR. ]

BELL. Say you so? Is that a maxim among ye?

BELIN. Yes: you fluttering men of the _mode_ have made marriage a mereFrench dish. 

BELL. I hope there's no French sauce. [_Aside_. ]

BELIN. You are so curious in the preparation, that is, your courtship, one would think you meant a noble entertainment--but when we come tofeed, 'tis all froth, and poor, but in show. Nay, often, only remains, which have been I know not how many times warmed for other company, andat last served up cold to the wife. 

BELL. That were a miserable wretch indeed, who could not afford one warmdish for the wife of his bosom. But you timorous virgins form a dreadfulchimaera of a husband, as of a creature contrary to that soft, humble, pliant, easy thing, a lover; so guess at plagues in matrimony, inopposition to the pleasures of courtship. Alas! courtship to marriage, is but as the music in the play-house, until the curtain's drawn; butthat once up, then opens the scene of pleasure. 

BELIN. Oh, foh, --no: rather courtship to marriage, as a very wittyprologue to a very dull play. 

SCENE XI. 

[_To them_] SHARPER. 

SHARP. Hist! Bellmour. If you'll bring the ladies, make haste toSylvia's lodgings, before Heartwell has fretted himself out of breath. 

BELL. You have an opportunity now, madam, to revenge yourself uponHeartwell, for affronting your squirrel. [_To_ BELINDA. ]

BELIN. Oh, the filthy rude beast. 

ARAM. 'Tis a lasting quarrel; I think he has never been at our housesince. 

BELL. But give yourselves the trouble to walk to that corner-house, andI'll tell you by the way what may divert and surprise you. 

SCENE XII. 

SCENE: _Sylvia's Lodgings_. 

HEARTWELL _and_ BOY. 

HEART. Gone forth, say you, with her maid?

BOY. There was a man too, that fetched them out--Setter, I think theycalled him. 

HEART. So-h--that precious pimp too--damned, damned strumpet! could shenot contain herself on her wedding-day? not hold out till night? Oh, cursed state! how wide we err, when apprehensive of the load of life. 

 We hope to find That help which Nature meant in womankind, To man that supplemental self-designed; But proves a burning caustic when applied, And Adam, sure, could with more ease abide The bone when broken, than when made a bride. 

SCENE XIII. 

[_To him_] BELLMOUR, BELINDA, VAINLOVE, ARAMINTA. 

BELL. Now George, what, rhyming! I thought the chimes of verse werepast, when once the doleful marriage-knell was rung. 

HEART. Shame and confusion, I am exposed. [VAINLOVE _and_ ARAMINTA_talk apart_. ]

BELIN. Joy, joy, Mr. Bridegroom; I give you joy, sir. 

HEART. 'Tis not in thy nature to give me joy. A woman can as soon giveimmortality. 

BELIN. Ha, ha, ha! oh Gad, men grow such clowns when they are married. 

BELL. That they are fit for no company but their wives. 

BELIN. Nor for them neither, in a little time. I swear, at the month'send, you shall hardly find a married man that will do a civil thing tohis wife, or say a civil thing to anybody else. How he looks already, ha, ha, ha. 

BELL. Ha, ha, ha!

HEART. Death, am I made your laughing-stock? For you, sir, I shall finda time; but take off your wasp here, or the clown may grow boisterous; Ihave a fly-flap. 

BELIN. You have occasion for't, your wife has been blown upon. 

BELL. That's home. 

HEART. Not fiends or furies could have added to my vexation, oranything, but another woman. You've racked my patience; begone, or by--

BELL. Hold, hold. What the devil--thou wilt not draw upon a woman?

VAIN. What's the matter?

ARAM. Bless me! what have you done to him?

BELIN. Only touched a galled beast until he winced. 

VAIN. Bellmour, give it over; you vex him too much. 'Tis all serious tohim. 

BELIN. Nay, I swear, I begin to pity him myself. 

HEART. Damn your pity!--but let me be calm a little. How have Ideserved this of you? any of ye? Sir, have I impaired the honour of yourhouse, promised your sister marriage, and whored her? Wherein have Iinjured you? Did I bring a physician to your father when he layexpiring, and endeavour to prolong his life, and you one and twenty?Madam, have I had an opportunity with you and baulked it? Did you everoffer me the favour that I refused it? Or--

BELIN. Oh foh! what does the filthy fellow mean? Lord, let me be gone. 

ARAM. Hang me, if I pity you; you are right enough served. 

BELL. This is a little scurrilous though. 

VAIN. Nay, 'tis a sore of your own scratching--well, George?

HEART. You are the principal cause of all my present ills. If Sylviahad not been your mistress, my wife might have been honest. 

VAIN. And if Sylvia had not been your wife, my mistress might have beenjust. There, we are even. But have a good heart, I heard of yourmisfortune, and come to your relief. 

HEART. When execution's over, you offer a reprieve. 

VAIN. What would you give?

HEART. Oh! Anything, everything, a leg or two, or an arm; nay, I wouldbe divorced from my virility to be divorced from my wife. 

SCENE XIV. 

[_To them_] SHARPER. 

VAIN. Faith, that's a sure way: but here's one can sell you freedombetter cheap. 

SHARP. Vainlove, I have been a kind of a godfather to you yonder. Ihave promised and vowed some things in your name which I think you arebound to perform. 

VAIN. No signing to a blank, friend. 

SHARP. No, I'll deal fairly with you. 'Tis a full and free discharge toSir Joseph Wittal and Captain Bluffe; for all injuries whatsoever, doneunto you by them, until the present date hereof. How say you?

VAIN. Agreed. 

SHARP. Then, let me beg these ladies to wear their masks, a moment. Comein, gentlemen and ladies. 

HEART. What the devil's all this to me?

VAIN. Patience. 

SCENE the Last

[_To them_] SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE, SYLVIA, LUCY, SETTER. 

BLUFF. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper. 

SIR JO. Ay, ay, whatsoever, Captain, stick to that; whatsoever. 

SHARP. 'Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release. 

VAIN. Ay, ay, to this instant moment. I have passed an act of oblivion. 

BLUFF. 'Tis very generous, sir, since I needs must own--

SIR JO. No, no, Captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh. 'Tis I mustown--

BLUFF. --That you are over-reached too, ha, ha, ha, only a little artmilitary used--only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fairAraminta, my wife's permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY_unmasks_. ]

SIR JO. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, orso. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got--now, but all'sforgiven. 

VAIN. I know whom you have not got; pray ladies convince him. [ARAM. _and_ BELIN. _unmask_. ]

SIR JO. Ah! oh Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides. 

SHARP. Sir Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman'spardon: for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of hismistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SYLVIA_unmasks_. ]

HEART. My wife! By this light 'tis she, the very cockatrice. OSharper! Let me embrace thee. But art thou sure she is really marriedto him?

SET. Really and lawfully married, I am witness. 

SHARP. Bellmour will unriddle to you. [HEARTWELL _goes to_ BELLMOUR. ]

SIR JO. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to bebetter acquainted. 

SYLV. The worst of me is, that I am your wife--

SHARP. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A finelady, and a lady of very good quality. 

SIR JO. Thanks to my knighthood, she's a lady--

VAIN. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray use her as myrelation, or you shall hear on't. 

BLUFF. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

SET. And my relation; pray let her be respected accordingly. Well, honest Lucy, fare thee well. I think, you and I have been play-fellowsoff and on, any time this seven years. 

LUCY. Hold your prating. I'm thinking what vocation I shall followwhile my spouse is planting laurels in the wars. 

BLUFF. No more wars, spouse, no more wars. While I plant laurels for myhead abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home. 

HEART. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee. And I cannot ingratitude (for I see which way thou art going) see thee fall into thesame snare out of which thou hast delivered me. 

BELL. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention; but there is afatality in marriage, for I find I'm resolute. 

HEART. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part, Ihave once escaped; and when I wed again, may she be--ugly, as an oldbawd. 

VAIN. Ill-natured, as an old maid--

BELL. Wanton, as a young widow--

SHARP. And jealous, as a barren wife. 

HEART. Agreed. 

BELL. Well; 'midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstandingthe warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting durance. 

BELIN. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. [_Giving her hand_. ]

BELL. Frank, will you keep us in countenance?

VAIN. May I presume to hope so great a blessing?

ARAM. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friend'sexperience first. 

BELL. O' my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant. [_Aside_. ] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning. May be it may get you an appetite to see us fall to before you. Setter, did not you tell me?--

SET. They're at the door: I'll call 'em in. 

A DANCE. 

BELL. Now set we forward on a journey for life. Come take your fellow-travellers. Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone. 

HEART. With gaudy plumes and jingling bells made proud, The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud. A morning-sun his tinselled harness gilds, And the first stage a down-hill greensward yields. But, oh--What rugged ways attend the noon of life!Our sun declines, and with what anxious strife, What pain we tug that galling load, a wife. All coursers the first heat with vigour run;But 'tis with whip and spur the race is won. 

[_Exeunt Omnes_. ]

EPILOGUE. Spoken by MRS. BARRY. 

As a rash girl, who will all hazards run, And be enjoyed, though sure to be undone, Soon as her curiosity is over, Would give the world she could her toy recover, So fares it with our poet; and I'm sentTo tell you he already does repent:Would you were all as forward to keep Lent. Now the deed's done, the giddy thing has leisureTo think o' th' sting, that's in the tail of pleasure. Methinks I hear him in consideration:What will the world say? Where's my reputation?Now that's at stake. No, fool, 'tis out o' fashion. If loss of that should follow want of wit, How many undone men were in the pit!Why that's some comfort to an author's fears, If he's an ass, he will be tryed by's peers. But hold, I am exceeding my commission:My business here was humbly to petition;But we're so used to rail on these occasions, I could not help one trial of your patience:For 'tis our way, you know, for fear o' th' worst, To be beforehand still, and cry Fool first. How say you, sparks? How do you stand affected?I swear, young Bays within is so dejected, 'Twould grieve your hearts to see him; shall I call him?But then you cruel critics would so maul him!Yet may be you'll encourage a beginner;But how? Just as the devil does a sinner. Women and wits are used e'en much at one, You gain your end, and damn 'em when you've done.