ACT THE THIRD.

O. Book.That I most blame is, that you concealed it from your best friend. I'll instantly to Penelope's father, and make my apology. He is my friend. [Exit.

Lat.This marriage strangely surprised me.

Y. Book.Why, did you believe it, too, as well as the old gentleman? Why, then, I did it excellently. Ha! ha! ha!

Lat.What,[63]the watch! The pistol! Lady swooning! Her pitying, upbraiding look! All chimera?

Y. Book.Nothing but downright wit, to keep myself safe for Victoria.

Lat.May I desire one favour?

Y. Book.What can I deny thee, my privado?

Lat.Only that you'd give me some little secret hint when next you l——are going to be witty. But to jumble particulars so readily! 'Tis impossible you could, I believe, at the beginning of your tale know the ending—Yet——

Y. Book.These are gifts, child, mere gifts; 'tis not to be learnt—the skill of lying—except humour, wit, invention, presence of mind, retention, memory, circumspection, etc., were to be obtained by industry. You must not hum, nor haw, nor blush for't——

Lat.Who have we got here?

Bettyentering.

Bet.May I be so bold as to crave the liberty to ask your name?

Y. Book.My bright handmaid, my little she Ganymede—thou charming Hebe—you may ask me my name, for I won't tell it you—till you do; because I'd have the more words with you.

Bet.Are not you Mr. Bookwit?

Y. Book.The very same, my dear.

Bet.There, then [Giving him letter.] He's a mighty pretty man. [ExitBetty.

Y. Book.[Reading.] "You may wonder—your personand character—this evening, near Rosamond's Pond, on the other side the Park.—Victoria."

Oh, the happiness! What is become of the girl? Oh! Latine! Latine! ask me fifty questions all at once! What ails me? Why this joy? Who is this from? Oh, I could die, methinks, this moment, lest there should be in fate some future ill to dash my present joy! Why, Jack, why dost not ask me what's the matter?

Lat.If you'd but give me leave——

Y. Book.No; do not speak. Let me talk all; I fain would celebrate my fair one's praise, her every beauty! but the mind's too full to utter anything that is articulate, and will give way to nothing but mere names and interjections. O Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! O my Victoria! Read there.

Lat.Well, I own this subscribed "Victoria"—but still I am afraid of mistakes.

Y. Book.No—kneel down and ask forgiveness. You don't believe that she that would not speak to me would write.—But after all raptures and ecstasies—prithee step after the maid, learn what you can of her fortune, and so forth. Get interest to be admitted another time. [ExitLatine.

EnterFrederick.

Fred.Sir, your servant

Y. Book.Yours, sir; have you business with me?

Fred.This paper speaks it.

Y. Book.[Reading.] "Of a friend you've made me your mortal enemy. With your sword I expect satisfaction to-morrow morning at six in Hyde Park.—Lovemore." Do you know the contents of this letter?

Fred.Yes, sir, it is a challenge from Lovemore.

Y. Book.Are you to be his second?

Fred.I offered it, but he will meet you single.

Y. Book.The fewer the better cheer.

Fred.You're very pleasant, sir.

Y. Book.My good humour was ever challenge-proof. I will be very punctual. [ExitFred.]—I fall into business very fast. There, thou dear letter of love; be there, thou of hatred. There; men of business must sort their papers.—I fear he saw me put up two letters.

EnterLatine.

Oh, Jack, more adventures, another lady has writ.

Lat.Let's see it.

Y. Book.No; always tender of rep.—she is of quality—a gentleman usher came with it. I can't believe there's anything in that old whim of being wrapt in one's mother's smock to be thus lucky; I suppose I was used like other children. They clapped me on a skull-cap, swathed me hard, played me in arms, and shewed me London. But however it comes about I have strange luck with the women.

Lat.But let us see this letter.

Y. Book.[Reading.] "No, no—A woman of condition to go so far—But, indeed, your passion, your wit—My page—at the back 'stairs—secrecy, and your veracity——"

Lat.There her ladyship nicked it. Pox, I'll be as humourous and frolic as you. You pert fellows are the only successful——

Y. Book.Well said, lad; and, as Mr. Bayes says,[64]now the plot thickens upon us we'll spend our time as gaily as the best of 'em, and all of it in love—

For since through all the race of man we find,Each to some darling passion is inclined,Let love be still the bias of my mind. [Exeunt.

EnterVictoriaandBetty.

Vict.This was, indeed, Betty, a very diverting accident, that I should be employed to write to her lover. Now, I can't but think how angry my cousin Pen is. She frets, I warrant, at her very looking-glass, which used to be her comforter upon all occasions.

Bet.I would not be in poor Mrs. Lettice's place for all the world. Nothing, to be sure, can please to-day; did you mind how she nestled and fumed inwardly to see your ladyship look so well? Nay, indeed, madam, you were in high beauty.

Vict.Yet I must confess I was myself a little discomposed. I was ashamed for my friend, and then to see her show such a regard for a fellow!

Bet.But I swear, were I to have my will, you should be always angry at me. It gives your ladyship such a pretty fierceness, and quick spirit to your features—not that you want it—yet it adds——

Vict.There are some people very unhappily pretend to fire and life; there's poor, stupid, insipid Lady Fad,has heard of the word spleen, and distaste, and sets up for being out of humour, with that unmeaning face of hers.

Bet.You're in a fine humour, madam.

Vict.Her ladyship's physician prescribed anger to her; upon which she comes in public with her eyes staringly open. This she designs for vivacity, and gapes about like a wandering country lady. She pretends to be a remarker, and looks at everybody; but, alas, she wants it here, and knows not that to see, is no more to look, than to go is to walk. For you must know, Betty, every child can see, but 'tis an observing creature that can look; as every pretty girl can go, but 'tis a fine woman that walks.

Both.Ha! ha! ha!

Vict.But, by the way, there's Mrs. Penelope, methinks, does neither; I have a kindness for her, but she has no gesture in the least. My dear——

EnterPenelope.

Pen.Well, my dear——

Bet.How civilly people of quality hate one another. [Aside.

Pen.Well, my dear, were not you strangely surprised to see that this young Bookwit should be the soldier we met this morning?

Vict.The confident lying creature! Indeed, I wondered you'd suffer him to entertain you so long.

Pen.You must know, madam, he's married too at Oxford.

Vict.The ugly wretch! I think him downright disagreeable.—But perhaps this is a fetch of hers; he had no married look. [Aside.

Pen.Yet I am resolved to go to your assignation, if it be but to confront the coxcomb, and laugh at his lie.Such fellows should be made to know themselves, and that they're understood.

Vict.I'll wait upon you, my dear.—She's very prettily dressed. [Aside.]—But indeed, my dear, you shan't go with your hood so; it makes you look abominably, with your head so forward. There—[Displacing her head]; that's something. You had a fearful, silly blushing look; now you command all hearts.

Pen.Thank you, my dear.

Vict.Your servant, dearest.

Pen.But alas, madam, who patched you to-day? Let me see. It is the hardest thing in dress—I may say, without vanity, I know a little of it. That so low on the cheek pulps the flesh too much. Hold still, my dear, I'll place it just by your eye.—Now she downright squints. [Aside.

Vict.There's nothing like a sincere friend, for one is not a judge of one's self. I have a patch-box about me. Hold, my dear, that gives you a sedate air, that large one near your temples.

Pen.People, perhaps, don't mind these things. But if it be true, as the poet finely sings, that "all the passions in the features are," we may show or hide 'em, as we know how to affix these pretty artificial moles——

Vict.And so catch lovers, and puzzle physiognomy.

Pen.'Tis true; then pray, my dear, let me put a little disdain in your face: for we'll plague this fop. There—that on your forehead does it.

Vict.Hold, my dear; I'll give indifference for him, a patch just at the point of your lip exactly shows it—and that you're dumb to all applications.

Pen.You wish I would be. [Aside.

Vict.There, my dear.

Pen.But, dear madam, your hair is not half powdered. Betty, bring the powder-box to your lady. It gives onea clean look (though your complexion does not want it) to enliven it.

Vict.Oh! fie, this from you! But I know you won't flatter me, you're too much my friend.

Pen.Now, madam, you shall see. [Powders her.]—Now she looks like a sprite. [Aside.

Vict.Thank you, my dear; we'll take an hack. Our maids shall go with us. Come, dear friend. [Exeunt arm in arm.

Bet.Pray, Madam Lettice, be pleased to go on.

Lett.Indeed, Madam Betty, I must beg your pardon.

Bet.I am at home, dear Madam Lettice.

Lett.Well, madam, this is unkind. I don't use you with this ceremony. [Exeunt.

EnterYoung BookwitandLatineafter a flourish.

Y. Book.Victoria! Victoria! Victoria!

Lat.Make way, make way. By your leave. Stand by. Victoria! "Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas."[65]

Y. Book.Well said, Jack. Let me see any of your sparks besides myself keep such an equipage. I don't question but in a little time I shall be a finer fop than the town has yet seen. All my lackeys shall be linguists as thou art. While thus I ride immortal steeds—how my horses stare at me! They see I am a very new sort of beau.

Lat.This is rare—the having this noise of music. But won't it be reckoned a disturbance?

Y. Book.No, no; it is a usual gallantry here. Butthe vocal is an elegance hardly known before me here—who am the founder of accomplished fools, of which I'll institute an order. All coxcombs of learning and parts shall after me be called Bookwits—a sect will soon be more numerous, and in more credit, than your Aristotelians, Platonists, and Academics.

Lat.Sir, 'twill be extraordinary, and you are really a wise person—you put your theory of philosophy into practice; 'tis not with you a dead letter.

Y. Book.Oh! sir, no. The design of learning is for the use of life; therefore I'll settle a family very suddenly, and show my literature in economy.

Lat.As how, pray?

Y. Book.I'll have four peripatetic footmen, two followers of Aristippus for valets de chambre, and an epicurean cook—with an hermetical chemist (who are good only at making fires) for my scullion; and then I think all is disposed. But, methinks this fair one takes state upon her. But I am none of your languishers; I am not known in town, and if I misbehave, 'tis but being sent back again to my small beer and three-halfpenny commons; and I, like many another beau, only blazed and vanished——

Lat.But you know I love music immoderately. How do you dispose your entertainment? Let 'em begin.

Y. Book.Well, give me but leave. The fiddles will certainly attract the ladies, I mean the nymphs who have grottos round this enchanted forest. In the first place, you intelligences that move this vehicle—how the fellows stare!

Chair.Good your honour, speak to us in English.

Y. Book.Why then, you chairmen, wherever I move, you are to follow me; for I mean to strut, shine through the dusk of the evening, and look as like a lazy town-fool as I can, to charm 'em.

Lat.Well, but the music?

Y. Book.But remember, ye sons of Phœbus, brethren of the string and lyre, that is to say, ye fiddlers—Let me have a flourish as I now direct. When I lift up my cane, let it be martial. If I but throw myself just forward on it, or but raise it smoothly, sigh all for love, to show, as I think fit, that I would die or fight for her you see me bow to. Well, then, strike up:—

Song, byMr. Leveridge.[66]I.Venus has left her Grecian isles,With all her gaudy trainOf little loves, soft cares and smiles,In my larger breast to reign.II.Ye tender herds and list'ning deer,Forget your food, forget your fear,The bright Victoria will be here.III.The savages about me throng,Moved with the passion of my song,And think Victoria stays too long.

Y. Book.There's for you, Jack; is not that like a fine gentleman that writes for his own diversion?

Lat.And nobody's else.

Y. Book.Now I warrant one of your common sparks would have stamped, fretted, and cried, what the devil! fooled! jilted! abused!—while I, in metre, to show you how well nothing at all may be made to run—

The savages about me throng,Moved with the passion of my song,And think Victoria stays too long.

Lat.I begin to be one of those savages.

EnterVictoria, Penelope, Lettice,andBetty.

Vict.We had better have stayed where we were, and listened to that charming echo, than have come in search of that liar.

Lat.Do you see yonder?

Y. Book.[Gives the sign and sings himself.] Thus, madam, have I spent my time almost ever since I saw you, repeated your name to the woods, the dales, and echoing groves.

Pen.Prithee observe him. Now he begins.

Y. Book.I had not time to carve your name on every tree, but that's a melancholy employment, not for those lovers that are favoured with assignation.

Vict.Prithee, cousin, do you talk to him in my name. I'll be silent till I see farther.[67]

Pen.The spring is now so forward, that it must indeed be attributed to your passion that you are not in the field.

Y. Book.You do me justice, madam, in that thought, for I am strangely pestered to be there. Well, the French are the most industrious people in the world. I had a letter from one of their generals, that shall be nameless (it came over by the way of Holland), with an offer of very great terms, if I would but barely send my opinion in the use of pikes, about which he tells me their Prince and generals have lately held a grand court martial.

Both.Ha! ha! ha!

Lat.These cunning things keep still together to puzzle us.—I'll alarm him.—Sir, one word——

Vict.Come, come, we'll have no whispering, no messages at present. Some other ladies have sent, but they shan't have you from us.

Both.Ha! ha! ha!

Y. Book.I hold myself obliged to be of the same humour ladies are in—ha! ha! ha! Now pray do me the favour to tell me what I laughed at.

Pen.[68]Why, you must know, your talking of the French and war put us in mind of a young coxcomb that came last night from Oxford, calls himself soldier, treats ladies, fights battles, raises jealousies with downright lies of his own inventing—ha! ha! ha!

Y. Book.That must be an impudent young rascal certainly—ha! ha! ha!

Vict.Nay, this is beyond comparison——

Y. Book.I can't conceive how one of those sneaking academics could personate such a character; for we, bred in camps, have a behaviour that shows we are used to act before crowds.

Pen.'Tis certainly so; nay, he has been confronted with it, as plainly as I speak to you, and yet not blushed for it, but carried it as if he knew not the man——

Y. Book.That may be; 'tis want of knowing themselves makes those coxcombs so confident.

Pen.The faithless! shameless! Well, then, to see, if possible, such a one may be brought to that sense, I tell you, this worthy hero two days ago was in hanging-sleeves at Oxford, and is called Mr. Bookwit. Ha! ha!

Y. Book.Well, was it not well enough carried? Pooh, I knew you well enough, and you knew me, before you writ to me for Mr. Bookwit's son. But I fell into that way of talking purely to divert you. I knew you a woman of wit and spirit, and that acting that part would at least show I had fire in me, and wished myself what I would be half an age to serve and please you—suffer in camps all the vicissitudes of burning heats and sharp afflicting colds—

Vict.Look you, sir, I shall tell Mrs. Matilda Newtown,your spouse at Oxford, what you are saying to another lady.

Pen.Prithee cousin, never give yourself the trouble to meddle in such a work; one hardly knows how to speak it to a gentleman, but don't touch the affairs of so impudent a liar.

Y. Book.Ha! ha! ha!—Why, madam, have they told you of the marriage too? Well, I was hard put to it there. I had like to have been gravelled, faith. You were more beholden to me for that than anything. Had it not been for that, they had married me to Mrs. Penelope, old Getwel's granddaughter, the great fortune; but I refused her for you—who are a greater. [Aside.

Lat.Sir! sir! pray sir, one word——

Pen. and Vict.Stand off, sirrah.

Vict.You shan't come near him; none of your dumb signs.

Pen.Then you have refused Penelope, though a great fortune! What could you dislike in her?

Y. Book.The whole woman. Her person, nor carriage please me. She is one of those women of condition, who do and say what they please with an assured air, and think that's enough, only to be called fine mistress such-a-one's manner.

Pen.This is not to be endured.—I do assure you, sir, Mrs. Penelope has refused your betters.

Y. Book.I don't much value my betters in her judgment, but am sorry to see you concerned for her. When I have been at church, where I first saw you, I've seen the gay giddy thing in a gallery watching eyes to make curtsies. She is indeed a very ceremonious churchwoman, and never is guilty of a sin of omission to any lady of quality within eye-shot. In short, I don't like the woman, and would go to Tunis or Aleppo for a wife before I'd take her.

Vict.I cannot bear this of my friend; if you go on,sir, at this rate, Tunis or Aleppo are the properest places for you to show your gallantry in; 'twill never be received by any here—I hope she believes me. [Aside.

Pen.The lady's in the right on't; who can confide in a known common impostor?

Y. Book.[69]Ah, madam! how can you use a man that loves you so unjustly? But call me what you will, liar, cheat, impostor—do but add, your servant, and I am satisfied. I have, indeed, madam, ran through many shifts in hopes to gain you, and could be contented to run through all the shapes in Ovid's Metamorphoses, could I but return to this on my bended knees, of my fair one's humble servant.

Vict.Prithee let us leave him, as you told me; I wonder you can suffer him to entertain you so long. Leave him, let him kneel to the trees and call to the woods if he will.—Oh, I could brain him—how ugly he looks kneeling to her! [Aside.

Pen.No, I'll stay to plague him more.—But what opinion can I have of this sudden passion? You hardly know me, I believe, or my circumstances?

Y. Book.No, no, not I; I don't know you. Your mother was not Alderman Sterling's daughter; your father, Mr. Philips, of Gray's Inn, who had an estate and never practised? You had not a brother killed at Landen? Your sister Diana is not dead? nor you are not co-heiress with Miss Molly? No, madam, I don't know you; no, nor love you.

Pen.I wish I had taken her advice in going; he means her all this while [Aside.]—Pshaw, this is downright fooling. Let's go, my dear; leave him to the woods, as you say—I wish 'twas full of bears. [Aside.

Vict.No; now I'll stay to plague him.

Pen.No, you shan't stay.—Sir, we have given ourselves the diversion to see you, and confront you in your falsehoods; in which you have entangled yourself to that degree, you know not even the woman you pretend to; and therefore, sir, I so far despise you, that if you should come after me with your fiddles, I'll have a porter—ready to let you in. [Aside.

Vict.I don't know how to threaten a gentleman in that manner, but I'm sure I shall never entertain any man that has disobliged my friend, while my name's Victoria! [Exeunt arm in arm.

Lat.Master, methinks these ladies don't understand wit. They were very rough with you.

Y. Book.Ay, they were somewhat dull. But really Victoria discovered herself at her going, methinks, agreeably enough.

Lat.I believe they are irrecoverably lost. Pox on't, when I gave you so many signs, too.

Y. Book.Well, hang thinking. Let's to the tavern, and in every glass name a new beauty, till I either forget, or am inspired with some new project to attain her.

While in a lovely bowl I drown my care,She'll cease to be, or I to think her, fair. [Exeunt.

EnterYoung BookwitandLatine.

Young Book.This Roebuck has almost done my business. Rigby's an honest fellow, and would not poison us. The wine had good-humour, mirth, and joy in it. My blood beats high and frolic. What says my dear lackey? Ha!

Lat.Why, sir, I say, sir, that I am in so noble, so exalted a condition, that I almost forget I am your honour's footman.

Y. Book.Do but your business well to-night.

Lat.Who says the tongue stutters, legs falter, and eyes fail with drink? 'Tis false, my dear master, my tongue runs faster than ever; my legs so brisk and nimble, that I can't stand still; and my eyes are better than ever they were; for I see everything double—But the letter, the letter, I warrant I give it her.

Y. Book.Here, here, Jack, take it.

Lat.Let's come nearer the lamp. This is the foul copy of it that 'tis wrapped in. Let me judge. Now I'll be sedate. Let me read it again.

Y. Book.But you look cursedly fluttered; they'llsay you're drunk. Let's see, I must comb your wig a little.

Lat.I shall be kicked for this letter here about the middle. You should not talk of joys so soon; you should write miserable a fortnight or three weeks longer—I shall be kicked.

Y. Book.What then? what then? A man of your philosophy must needs remember, the body's but the mere organ of the mind. Kicks come under the topic of things without. What shall I do for powder for this smart bob? [Combs out his own wig intoLat's.

Lat.'Tis no matter, sir; powder comes under the notion of things without.

Y. Book.Oh! but ladies are no philosophers; but as to being drubbed (these stockings too), you must fix your imagination upon some other object, and you may, by force of thought, suspend your feeling. The body is but the instrument of the mind, and you may command an instrument.

Lat.No, sir, I'll have you to know, I'll save my carcass by mere dint of eloquence. You have no other orders?

Y. Book.No; but may persuasion, grace, and elocution hang on thy lips. But if you can come in to Victoria, she and the wine you've drank will inspire you. Farewell. [Exit.

Lat.This is the enchanted castle which the lady fair inhabits. Ha! Mr. Simon, sir, I am your most humble servant. My dear friend——

EnterSimon.

Sim.Your servant, good sir; my lady is with Madam Victoria at cards. She'll lie here to-night—but all's ruined; they are both huge angry with your master. But Lettice, having taken a fancy to you, Mr. John, spoke up rarely, that she did indeed.

Lat.Can't one come to the speech of her?

Sim.I was ordered to have a strict eye to the door, and let nobody in whatever. I don't care for going up, because she'll see I have made a cap of one of the finest napkins, for which she'll make a plaguy noise.

Lat.Nay, nay, you are exactly of my mind; I love to avoid anger.

Sim.You are a little disguised in drink, though, Mr. John—but I ain't seen you, not I. Go straight up: Mrs. Lettice is in the ante-chamber.

Lat.I thank you, dear friend. My master bids me upon these occasions——[Gives him money.

Sim.I beg your pardon, good Mr. John.

Lat.Look you, I am a servant as well as you; what do you mean, Mr. Simon? Come, come, time's precious. When your lady's married, all these vails will end.

Sim.Nay, I said behind your back, Mr. John, that you were very well spoken. Well, put up briskly. I'll stand your friend as much as one servant can to another, against all masters and mistresses whatever.

Lat.Thanks, good Mr. Simon. [Exeunt.

Lettice,discovered reading, by a small candle; two large ones by her unlighted.

Lett.'Tis a most sad thing, one dare not light a large candle except company's coming in, and I scarce can see to read this piteous story. Well, in all these distresses and misfortunes, the faithful Argalus was renowned all over the plains of Arca—Arca—Arcadia—for his loyal and true affection to his charming paramour, Parthenia.[70]Blessings on his heart for it; there are no such suitors nowadays. [Weeping.] But I hope they'll come together again at the end of the book, and marry, and have several children. Oh! Bless me! A man here! [Turns over the leaves.]—The gentleman's pretty man——[Aside.

EnterLatine.

I wonder by what means, with that impudence, you could offer to come upstairs at this time of the night, and my lady in the next room. I protest I'll cry out. [In a low voice all.

Lat.Dear Mrs. Lettice, my love to you. [Aloud.

Lett.Hist, hist! I am, methinks, however, loth to discover you, because servants must do as they're bid; for I know it was not to see me, but some message from your master you came about.

Lat.I offered to bring a letter from him, in hopes to see you, my dearest. I'll not give it at all; I don't care, my dearest. [Kisses her hand.

Lett.Pho! pho! now you are rude, because you know one dare not discover you. You do what you will.—How he kisses one's hand: I warrant he has kissed his betters. [Aside.]—Pray, did you never live in a lady's service?

Lat.No; nor do I value any of the sex but your dear self, Mrs. Lettice.—I would be discovered. [Aside.]—I'm in a rapture! in a flame!

Pen.[Within.] Who's there?

Lett.Hist, hist! could not you have forced a kiss quietly?—Madam! madam!—Hold me fast. Show the letter, my lady's coming.—I tell you, sir, she will receive no message at all. Get you downstairs, you impudent!—Hold me faster yet; she loves your master. [Softly aside toLatine.

EnterPenelopeandVictoria.

Pen.What can this mean? What fellow's that has seized the wench?

Lett.Madam, madam, here's Mr. Bookwit's footman drunk, and has directly stole upstairs with some ill design, I fear, on me—but has a letter from his master to your ladyship.

Pen.Call up the servants: Simon, William, Kate, Alf! I'll have the rascal well basted for his insolence—served just as his master deserves.

Lat.[Kneeling.] Let not those lips, more sweet than labour of Hyblæan bees, utter a sentence, as if a Libyan lioness on a mountain gave thee suck, and thou wert the obdurate offspring of a rock.

Vict.Hyblæan! Libyan! Obdurate! Ridiculous. The fellow has got his master's cant! Ha! ha! ha!

Pen.I'll put him out of it, I'll warrant you. What, will no one come up there?

EnterServantswith brooms, &c.

Lat.Oh! for the force of eloquence to allay and reconcile the passion of this angry mansion!—I had like to have said plain house, which had been against the laws of buskin, in which I would at present talk. [Aside.

Pen.Did you ever hear anything like this? Ha! ha!

Maid.Madam, shall I beat him?

Lat.Ah! culinary fair, compose thy rage; thou whose more skilful hand is still employed in offices for the support of nature, descend not from thyself, thou bright cookmaid——There! sunk again! [Aside.]—With heightened gusts and quickening tastes, by you what would be labour else is made delight. Thou great robust, let not thy hand all red assault a life it rather should preserve.

Maid.Good madam, excuse me, I can't touch him——I have bowels for him. [Weeping.

Sim.I wish I had his learning. I'll warrant he buys in everything wherever he lives.

Lat.This, madam, this faithful paper tells you thepassions of the tenderest heart that ever bled for cruel maid. Oh, Victoria! did you but hear his sighs, his restless hours!—how often he repeats Victoria!

Lett.Victoria! Then I find this is none on't meant to my lady—nor to me neither; the master and man are both rogues. [Aside.

Pen.Receive your seasonable epistle now at midnight!

Vict.He can't mean me——To you he all along addressed.—Would I could read it without her. [Aside.

Pen.To show you I value neither author nor bearer of it—kick the fellow down!

Lat.Nay, madam, since matters must come to extremities, I'd rather have the honour of your ladyship's command to be cudgelled by your good family than have it from my master. A disappointed lover in his rage will strike stone walls and things inanimate, much more a poor live footman; therefore I must deliver my message. I'll read it to you, ladies, for I see you are friends.

Pen.Away with him.

Lat."If the sincerity of my intentions were not——"

Lett.Get out, false wretch.

Lat."Demonstrable, in spite of——"

Maid.Take that——

Lat."These accidents in which I have been involved, I should not dare to tell you how alternately joys, raptures, ecstasies, miseries, doubts, and anxieties do attack a breast devoted to you."

Whither shall injured virtue fly for shelter,When love and honour suffer thus in me?Oh! I could rage, call elements about me, spout cataracts—Must I be drubbed with broom-staves? [Exit.Lat.

Pen.Come in, my dear, again. The night is cold. [Exeunt.

EnterLovemoreandFrederick.

Love.It is so pleasant a night that I will see you over the Garden to your lodgings.

Fred.That compliment won't pass upon me. Your reason for sauntering this way is that 'tis near Penelope's.

Love.I come for her sake! No; should she write, beseech, kneel to me, I think I ne'er should value her more. No, I'll be no longer her tool, her jest; she shall not dally with a passion she deserves not.

Fred.'Twere very well were this resolution in your power; but believe me, friend, one smile, one glance that were but doubtful whether favourable, would conquer all your indignation.

Love.Faith, I'm afraid what you say is true.

Fred.Then strive not to be rationally mad, which you attempt if you think you can at once be at your own command and at another's. Would you be master of yourself and have a mistress?

Love.But I can rebel against that mistress.

Fred.Do if you can. Nay, I'm sure 'tis in your power, because to-morrow morning you are to fight a rival for her—because though you know she lies backwards, and you can't so much as see her chamber window, you must needs walk hither. Well, I protest I'm of your mind; there is, me thinks, now a particular, amiable gloom about that house—though, perhaps, to ordinary beholders it is exactly like the others.

Love.You are very witty, I must confess, at your friend's follies, Mr. Frederick.

Fred.I won't then any longer disturb your meditation, but e'en go home like a dull rogue as I am, and without love enough to any woman, or hatred enough to any man, to keep me awake, fall fast asleep—I was going to wish you rest, but you are above all that. If it should rain,I'd advise you not to forget it does, but go into the Piazza. [Exit.

Love.'Tis very well, I'm deservedly laughed at. But the door opens—Bookwit's footman! [Latinecrosses the stage.] The master, I suppose, is there too. I'll watch for his coming out——The morning approaches too slowly. He shall not sleep to-night except it be for ever——Oh, revenge! Oh, jealousy!

EnterYoung Bookwit,with bottle and glass, singing.[71]

Y. Book.

Since the day of poor man,That little, little span,Though long it can't last,For the future and pastIs spent with remorse and despair.With such a full glassLet that of life pass,'Tis made up of trouble,A storm though a bubble,There's no bliss but forgetting your care.

I wonder what's become of poor Latine. I wish he had a bumper of this——[Drinks.

Love.I have no patience to observe his insolent jollity; how immoderately joyful my misery has made him!—Bookwit!

Y. Book.Lovemore!

Love.What, sir! are you diverting the thought of to-morrow morning's business with midnight riot? Or is it an assignation keeps you out of bed thus late?

Y. Book.An hour or two till morning is not much in either of our lives; therefore I must tell you now, sir, I am ready for your message.

Love.That conscious light and stars are witnesses of——

Y. Book.I want no witnesses. I have a sword, as you bid me meet you. [They draw and fight.

Love.You've done my business. [Falls.

Y. Book.Then I've done what you desired me. But this is no place for me. [Exit.

EnterConstableandWatchmen.

Const.Where, where was this clashing of swords? So-ho! So-ho! You, sir, what, are you dead? Speak, friend; what are you afraid of? If you are dead, the law can't take hold of you.

Watch.I beg your pardon, Mr. Constable, he ought by the law to be carried to the Round-house for being dead at this time of night.

Const.Then away with him, you three——And you, gentlemen, follow me to find out who killed him. [Exeunt.

EnterSimon.

Sim.What's the matter, good gentlemen, what's the matter? Oh, me! Mr. Lovemore killed! Oh, me! My mind gives me that it must be about our young lady.

Watch.Does it so, sir? Then you must stay with us. [Some holdSimon,whilst others carryLovemoreoff.

Sim.I stay with you! Oh, gemini! Indeed, I can't——They can't be without me at our house.

Watch.But they must, friend——Harkee, friend—I hope you'll be hanged. [Whispers him.

Sim.I hanged! Pray, sir, take care of your words. Madam Penelope's, our young lady's servant, hanged! Take care what you say.

EnterLatine.

Lat.Whither can this Bookwit be gone?

Sim.Oh! Mr. John, Mr. Lovemore is killed just now,since you went out of our house; and you and your master must have an hand in it.

Lat.How? Lovemore killed! [They seizeLatine.

Enter others withYoung Bookwit.

Y. Book.Hands off, you dirty midnight rascals. Let me go, or——

Const.Sir, what were you running so fast for? There's a man killed in the Garden, and you're a fine gentleman, and it must be you—for good honest people only beat one another——

Lat.Nay, nay, we are all in a fair way to be fine gentlemen, Mr. Simon and all.

Const.Hands off, rascals, you said just now—do you know what a constable is?

Y. Book.The greatest man in the parish when all the rest are asleep.

Const.Come, come, I find they are desperate fellows; we'll to the justice, and commit 'em immediately. I'll teach rascals to speak high-treason against a petty constable——[Exeunt.[72]

EnterFrederickandOld Bookwit.

O. Book.You well may be surprised at my waiting here for your coming home. But you'll pardon me, since it is to ease me of an anxiety that keeps me waking.

Fred.I shall be very glad if I am capable of doing that.

O. Book.[73]You knew my Tom at Oxford, and I believe were not so hard a student, but you made some acquaintance in the town—therefore, pray tell me, doyou know Mr. Newtown there—his family, descent, and fortune?

Fred.What Newtown?

O. Book.I'll tell you, sir, what you young fellows take most notice of old ones for—a token that you needs must know him by—he's the father of the fair Matilda, your celebrated beauty of that town.

Fred.I assure you, sir, I never heard of the father or daughter till this instant; therefore I'm confident there's no such beauty.

O. Book.Oh, sir, I know your drift—you're tender of informing me for my son's sake! He told me all himself. I know all the progress of his love with the young lady; how he was taken in the night in her bedchamber by his pistol going off, the family disturbance that was raised upon it, which he composed by marrying—I know it all.

Fred.Is Tom Bookwit then married at Oxford?

O. Book.He is, indeed, sir; therefore our affairs are now so linked that 'twill be an ill office both to the Newtowns and to us to conceal anything from me that relates to them.

Fred.A man can't be said to conceal what he does not know——But it seems it was Mr. Bookwit gave you this account himself.

O. Book.Yes, sir; I told you, sir, I had it from himself.

Fred.Then I'm sure there was nothing left out; he never tells a story by halves.

O. Book.Why, then, you think my son's a liar.

Fred.Oh fie, sir, but he enlivens a mere narration with variety of accidents; to be plain, his discourse gains him more applause than credit. You could not, I believe, have married your son to a less expensive lady in England than this Mrs. Matilda. I'll be sworn you'll avoid all the charge of gay dress, high play, and stately childbirth. You understand me, sir?

O. Book.I never could see anything in my son that's disingenuous, to put his aged father to this shame.

Fred.Never fret or grieve for it. He told Lovemore this morning such a relation of his feasting ladies, and I know not what, that he has brought a tilt upon his hands to-morrow morning; therefore keep him at home. I'll to his adversary, so we'll convince him of a fault which has so ill (though not intended) consequences.

O. Book.You'll highly oblige me, sir; I'll trouble you no longer. [Exeunt.

Young Bookwit, Latine, Simon, Storm,with the crowd of Gaol-birds.

Storm.I apprehend, sir, by Mr. Turnkey, the gentleman there with a broken nose, that you're brought in for murder. I honour you, sir; I don't question but 'twas done like a gentleman.

Y. Book.I hope it will appear so.

Storm.I come, I fear, sir, to your acquaintance with some prejudice, because you see me thus in irons. But affliction is the portion of the virtuous and the gallant.

Y. Book.It does not depress, sir, but manifest the brave.

Storm.Right, sir, I find you're noble. You may, perhaps, have heard of me. My name is Storm. This person, my friend, who is called Faggot, and myself, being exposed by an ungrateful world to feel its cruelty and contempt of ragged virtue, made war upon it, and in open day infested their high road.

Y. Book.Your humble servant, gentlemen, I do conceiveyou. Your spirits could not stoop to barter on the change, to sneer in courts, to lie, to flatter, or to creep for bread. You, therefore, chose rather to prey like lions, then betray like crocodiles, or fawn like dogs. You took upon you to interrupt the commerce of a cheating world, to unload the usurer of his anxious pelf, and save the thoughtless landed boy he travelled to undo, with a thousand such good actions; by which means you two are infamous, for what two millions of you had been glorious.

Storm.Right, sir; I see you're knowing, sir, and learned in man. This gentleman, Mr. Charcoal, the chemist, was our secret correspondent, and as we never robbed a poor man, so he never cheated a fool, but still imposed on your most sprightly wits and genius—fellows of fire and metal, whose quick fancies and eager wishes formed reasons for their undoing. He is a follower of the great Raimundus Lullius; the public think to frighten him into their own purposes. But he'll leave the ungrateful world without the secret.

Char.You know, sir, he that first asserted the Antipodes died for that knowledge; and I, sir, having found out the melioration of metals, the ignorant will needs call it coining; and I am to be hanged for it, would you think it?

Y. Book.When, pray sir, are you to be immortal?

Char.On Friday next. I'm very unhappy our acquaintance is to be short. I'm very sorry your business is not over, sir, that, if it must be, we might go together.

Y. Book.I'm highly obliged to you, sir.

Char.Yet let me tell you, sir, because by secret sympathy I'm yours, I must acquaint you, if you can obtain the favour of an opportunity and a crucible, I can show projection—directly Sol, sir, Sol, sir, more bright than that high luminary the Latins called so—wealth shallbe yours; we'll turn each bar about us into golden ingots.[74]Sir, can you lend me half-a-crown?

Y. Book.Oh, sir, a trifle between such old acquaintance.

Storm.You'll be indicted, sir, to-morrow. I would advise you, when your indictment's read, to one thing: that is, don't cavil at false Latin; but if by chance there should be a word of good, except to that, and puzzle the whole court.

Y. Book.Sir, I'm obliged——

Storm.I defy the world to say I ever did an ill thing; I love my friend. But there is always some little trifle given to prisoners they call garnish; we of the road are above it, but o' t'other side of the house, silly rascals that came voluntarily hither——such as are in for fools, signed their own mittimus, in being bound for others,—may perhaps want it. I'll be your faithful almoner.

Y. Book.Oh, by all means, sir. [Gives him money.

Storm.Pray, sir, is that your footman?

Y. Book.He is my friend, sir.

Storm.Look you, sir, the only time to make use of a friend is in extremity. Do you think you could not hang him and save yourself? Sir, my service to you; your own health.

1st Pris.Captain, your health. [Gives it to the next prisoner.

2nd Pris.Captain, your health.

Storm.But perhaps the captain likes brandy better. So-ho! brandy there. [Drinks.] But you don't, perhaps, like these strong liquors. Cider, ho! [Drinks to him in it.] Gentlemen all! But, captain, I see you don't love cider neither. You and I will be for claret then. Ay, marry! I knew this would please [Drinks] you. [Drinks again.] Faith, we'll make an end on't; I'm glad you like it.

Turn.I'm sorry, Captain Storm, to see you impose on a gentleman, and put him to charge in his misfortune. If a petty larceny fellow had done this——but one of the road!

Storm.I beg your pardon, sir, I don't question but the captain understands there is a fee to you for going to the keeper's side. [Book.andLatinegive him money. Exeunt withTurnkey, Simonfollowing.] Nay, nay, you must stay here.

Sim.Why, I am Simon, Madam Penelope's man.

Storm.Then Madam Penelope's man must strip for garnish.[75]Indeed, Master Simon, you must.

Sim.Thieves! Thieves! Thieves!

Storm.Thieves! Thieves! Why, you senseless dog, do you think there's thieves in Newgate? Away with him to the tap-house. [Pushes him off.] We'll drink his coat off. Come, my little chemist, thou shalt transmute this jacket into liquor; liquor that will make us forget the evil day. And while day is ours, let us be merry.

For little villains must submit to fate,That great ones may enjoy the world in state.[Exeunt.

Young Bookwitdiscovered on a couch asleep,Latinelooking on him.

Lat.How quietly he rests! Oh that I could,By watching him, hanging thus over him,And, feeling all his care, protract his sleep!Oh, sleep! thou sweetest gift of Heaven to man,Still in thy downy arms embrace my friend,Nor loose him from his inexistent tranceTo sense of yesterday and pain of being;In thee oppressors soothe their angry brow,In thee the oppressed forget tyrannic power,In thee——The wretch condemned is equal to his judge,And the sad lover to his cruel fair;Nay, all the shining glories men pursue,When thou art wanted, are but empty noise.Who then would court the pomp of guilty power,When the mind sickens at the weary show,And dies to temporary death for ease;When half our life's cessation of our being——He wakes——How do I pity that returning life,Which I could hazard thousand lives to save!

Y. Book.How heavily do I awake this morning! Oh, this senseless drinking! To suffer a whole week's pain for an hour's jollity! Methinks my senses are burning round me. I have but interrupted hints of the last night——Ha! in a gaol! Oh, I remember, I remember. Oh, Lovemore! Lovemore! I remember——

Lat.You must have patience, and bear it like a man.

Y. Book.Oh, whither shall I run to avoid myself?Why all these bars? These bolted iron gates?They're needless to secure me——Here, here's my rack,My gaol, my torture——Oh, I can't bear it. I cannot bear the rushing of new thoughts;Fancy expands my senses to distraction,And my soul stretches to that boundless spaceTo which I've sent my wretched, wretched friend.Oh, Latine! Latine! Is all our mirth and humour come to this?Give me thy bosom, close in thy bosom hide meFrom thy eyes; I cannot bear their pity or reproach.

Lat.Dear Bookwit, how heartily I love you—I don't know what to say. But pray have patience.

Y. Book.If you can't bear my pain that's but communicated by your pity, how shall I my proper inborn woe, my wounded mind?

Lat.In all assaults of fortune that should be serene,Not in the power of accident or chance——Y. Book.Words! words! all that is but mere talk.Perhaps, indeed, to undeserved afflictionReason and argument may give relief,Or in the known vicissitudes of lifeWe may feel comfort by our self-persuasion;But oh! there is no taking away guilt:This divine particle will ache for ever.There is no help but whence I dare not ask;When this material organ's indisposedJuleps can cool and anodynes give rest;But nothing mix with this celestial drop,But dew from that high Heaven of which 'tis part.Lat.May that high Heaven compose your mind,And reconcile you to yourself.Y. Book.How can I hope it?No——I must descend from man,Grovel on earth, nor dare look up again!Oh, Lovemore! Lovemore! Where is he now?Oh, thinking, thinking, why didst thou not come sooner?Or not now!——My thoughts do so confuse me now—as my folly and pleasures did before this fatal accident—that I cannot recollect whence Lovemore was provoked to challenge me.

Lat.You know, dear Bookwit, I feared some ill from a careless way of talking. But alas! I dreamt not of so great——

Y. Book.Ay, there it was; he was naturally a little jealous. Heavens, do I say he was? I talked to him of ladies, treats, and he might possibly believe 'twas where he had engaged——I remember his serious behaviour on that subject. Oh, this unhappy tongue of mine!Thou lawless, voluble, destroying foe,That still run'st on, nor wait'st command of reason,Oh, I could tear thee from me——

Lat.Did you not expostulate before the action?

Y. Book.He would have don't; but I, flushed with the thoughts of duelling, pressed on——Thus for the empty praise of fools, I'm solidly unhappy.

Lat.You take it too deeply. Your honour was concerned.

Y. Book.Honour! The horrid application of that sacred word to a revenge against friendship, law, and reason is a damned last shift of the damned envious foe of human race. The routed fiend projected this, but since the expansive glorious law from Heaven came down——Forgive.[76]

EnterTurnkey.

Turn.Gentlemen, I come to tell you that you have the favour to be carried in chairs to your indictment, to which you must go immediately.

Lat.We are ready, sir,

Y. Book.How shall I bear the eyeshot of the crowd in court? [Exeunt.

EnterLovemore,in a serjeant's gown, andFrederick.

Love.Mankind is infinitely beholden to this noble styptic, that could produce such wonderful effects so suddenly. But though my wound was very slight, I'm weak by the effusion of so much blood.

Fred.Yet after all, you have not lost enough to cool your passion. Your heart still beats, Penelope, Penelope——But in this disguise you have opportunity for observation. You'll see whether you ought still to value her or not. I'm glad you thought of being brought hither as soon as you came to yourself. I expect old Bookwit every moment here——

EnterOld Bookwit.

There he is——

O. Book.Oh, Mr. Frederick! too late, too late was our care; they met last night, and then the fatal act was done. You'll excuse, sir, a father's sorrow——I can't speak much, but you may guess what I hope from you.

Fred.You may depend upon ingenuous usage in the prosecution. I'm going instantly to Penelope's with this learned gentleman, to know what she can say to this matter. I desired you, in the note I sent you, to purchase the favour of your son's being brought thither, where he and you may be witnesses of what shall pass. I seek not his blood, nor would neglect a justice to my deceased friend.

O. Book.I believe my son and the rest are going thither ere this; and I desire this worthy serjeant's favour and advice, since we both mean the same thing—only to act with honour, if his life may be saved.

Love.I'll do what's just to the deceased and the survivor.

O. Book.I'll leave you, but will take care to come in just afore the criminals arrive. [Exit.

Love.The poor old gentleman! Prithee, let's go; I long to see my lovely torment, Penelope.

Fred.I'll but leave word within. [Exeunt.

EnterPenelopeandVictoria.

Pen.It seems Simon lay out all night, and was carried away by the watch with some gentlemen in a quarrel.

Vict.I fancy the men who are always for showingtheir valour are like the women who are always talking of their chastity, because they are conscious of their defect in it.

Pen.Right; for we are not apt to raise arguments but about what we think is disputable.

Vict.Ay, ay, they whose honour is a sore part are more fearful of being touched than they in whom 'tis only a tender one. But tell me honestly, Penelope, should poor Lovemore be in this rencounter, and that for your sake, would it have no effect upon you in his favour?

Pen.I don't know how to answer you; but I find something in that reflection which acquaints me 'tis very hard for one to know one's own heart. [Sighs.

Vict.However, let your heart answer me one question more, as well as it can. Does it love me as well as ever it did?

Pen.Does not, madam, that question proceed from a change in your own?

Vict.It does, Penelope; I own it does——I had a long conflict with myself on my pillow last night.

Pen.What were your thoughts there?

Vict.That I owed it to our friendship to acknowledge to you that all the pleasure I once had in you is vanished. Ah, Penelope! I'm sorry for every good quality you have.

Pen.Since you are so frank, I must confess to you something very like this. But however I envied that sprightly, ingenuous, native beauty of yours, I see it now so much the figure of your mind that I can conquer, I think I can, any inclination in myself that opposes the happiness of so sincere a friend.

Vict.Explain yourself, my dear.

Pen.I'll discountenance this Bookwit's ambiguous addresses; and if Lovemore can forgive my late ill-usage——I need say no more.

EnterServant.

Serv.Mr. Frederick below desires to see you on some extraordinary business.

Vict.I have not time, my dearest friend, to applaud or thank you, but must run in——He comes from Lovemore——remember. [Exit.

Pen.Let him come up——Now can't I for my life forbear a little tyranny.

EnterFrederickandLovemore.

Pen.Good morrow, sir. I believe I know your business: you're officious for your friend——But I am deaf.

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