Wild. Ha, married toDiana! How fickle is the Faith of common Women! [Aside.
SirTim. Hum, who’s here, my Lord? What, I see your Lordship has found the way already to the fair Ladies; but I hope your Lordship will do my Wedding-dinner the Honour to grace it with your Presence.
Wild. I shall not fail, Sir. A Pox upon him, he’ll discover all. [Aside.
L.Gal. I must own, Sir Timothy, you have made the better Choice.
SirTim. I cou’d not help my Destiny; Marriages are made in Heaven, you know.
EnterCharlotweeping, andClacket.
Charl. Stand off, and let me loose as are my Griefs, Which can no more be bounded: Oh, let me face The perjur’d, false, forsworn!
L.Gal. Fair Creature, who is’t that you seek with so much Sorrow?
Charl. Thou, thou fatally fair Inchantress. [Weeps.
Wild. Charlot! Nay, then I am discover’d.
L.Gal. Alas, what wou’dst thou?
Charl. That which I cannot have, thy faithless Husband. Be Judge, ye everlasting Powers of Love, Whether he more belongs to her or me.
SirAnth. How, my Nephew claim’d! Why, how now, Sirrah, have you been dabling here?
SirChar. By Heaven, I know her not.—Hark ye, Widow, this is some Trick of yours, and ‘twas well laid: and Gad, she’s so pretty, I cou’d find in my Heart to take her at her word.
L.Gal. Vile Man, this will not pass your Falshood off.Sure, ‘tis some Art to make me jealous of him,To find how much I value him.
SirChar. Death, I’ll have the Forgery out;—Tell me, thou pretty weeping Hypocrite, who was it set thee on to lay a Claim to me?
Charl. To you! Alas, who are you? for till this moment I never saw your Face.
L.Gal. Mad as the Seas when all the Winds are raging.
SirTim. Ay, ay, Madam, stark mad! Poor Soul—Neighbour, pray let her lie i’th’ dark, d’ye hear.
SirChar. How came you, pretty one, to lose your Wits thus?
Charl. With loving, Sir, strongly, with too much loving. —Will you not let me see the lovely false one? [To L. Gal. For I am told you have his Heart in keeping.
L. Gal_. Who is he? pray describe him.
Charl. A thing just like a Man, or rather Angel!He speaks, and looks, and loves, like any God!All fine and gay, all manly, and all sweet:And when he swears he loves, you wou’d swear tooThat all his Oaths were true.
SirAnth. Who is she? some one who knows her and is wiser, speak—you,Mistress. [ToClacket.
Mrs.Clack. Since I must speak, there comes the Man of Mischief: ’.is you, I mean, for all your Leering, Sir. [ToWild.
Wild. So.
SirTim. What, my Lord?
Mrs.Clack. I never knew your Nephew was a Lord:Has his Honour made him forget his Honesty?
[Charlot.runs, and catches him in her Arms.
Charl. I have thee, and I’ll die thus grasping thee; Thou art my own, no Power shall take thee from me.
Wild. Never; thou truest of thy Sex, and dearest, Thou soft, thou kind, thou constant Sufferer, This moment end thy Fears; for I am thine.
Charl. May I believe thou art not married then?
Wild. How can I, when I’m yours?How cou’d I, when I love thee more than Life?Now, Madam, I am reveng’d on all your Scorn, [To L. Galliard.—And, Uncle, all your Cruelty.
SirTim. Why, what, are you indeed my Nephew Thomas?
Wild. I amTom Wilding, Sir, that once bore some such Title, till you discarded me, and left me to live upon my Wits.
SirTim. What, and are you no Polish Embassador then incognito?
Wild. No, Sir, nor you no King Elect, but must e’en remain as you were ever, Sir, a most seditious pestilent old Knave; one that deludes the Rabble with your Politicks, then leaves ‘em to be hang’d, as they deserve, for silly mutinous Rebels.
SirTim. I’ll peach the Rogue, and then he’ll be hang’d in course, because he’s a Tory. One comfort is, I have cozen’d him of his rich Heiress; for I’m married, Sir, to Mrs.Charlot.
Wild. RatherDiana, Sir; I wish you Joy: See here’sCharlot. I was not such a Fool to trust such Blessings with the Wicked.
Sir Charl. How, Mrs. Dy Ladyfi’d! This is an excellent way of disposing an old cast-off Mistress.
SirTim. How, have I married a Strumpet then?
Dia. You give your Nephew’s Mistress, Sir, too coarse a Name. ‘Tis true, I lov’d him, only him, and was true to him.
SirTim. Undone, undone! I shall ne’er make Guildhall-Speech more: but he shall hang for’t, if there be e’er a Witness to be had between this and Salamanca for Money.
Wild. Do your worst, Sir; Witnesses are out of fashion now, Sir, thanks to your Ignoramus Juries.
SirTim. Then I’m resolv’d to disinherit him.
Wild. See, Sir, that’s past your Skill too, thanks to my last Night’s Ingenuity; they’re [shews him the Writings.] sign’d, seal’d, and deliver’d in the presence of, &c.
SirTim. Bear Witness, ‘twas he that rob’d me last night.
SirAnth. We bear witness, Sir, we know of no such matter we. I thank you for that, Sir; wou’d you make Witnesses of Gentlemen?
SirTim. No matter for that, I’ll have him hang’d, nay, drawn and quarter’d.
Wild. What, for obeying your Commands, and living on my Wits?
SirAnth. Nay, then ‘tis a clear Case, you can neither hang him or blame him.
Wild. I’ll propose fairly now; if you’ll be generous and pardon all, I’ll render your Estate back during Life, and put the Writings in Sir Anthony Meriwill’s and SirCharleshis Hands—I have a Fortune here that will maintain me, Without so much as wishing for your Death.
All. This is but Reason.
Sir Charl. With this Proviso, that he makes not use on’t to promote any Mischief to the King and Government.
All. Good and Just. [SirTim.pauses.
SirTim. Hum, I’d as good quietly agree to’t, as lose my Credit by making a Noise.—Well,Tom, I pardon all, and will be Friends. [Gives him his Hand.
Sir Charl. See, my dear Creature, even this hard old Man is mollify’d at last into good Nature; yet you’ll still be cruel.
L.Gal. No, your unwearied Love at last has vanquisht me. Here, be as happy as a Wife can make ye—One last look more, and then—be gone, fond Love.
[Sighing and looking onWilding,giving SirCharlesher Hand.
Sir Charl. Come, Sir, you must receiveDianatoo; she is a cheerful witty Girl, and handsome, one that will be a Comfort to your Age, and bring no Scandal home. Live peaceably, and do not trouble your decrepid Age with Business of State.
Let all things in their own due Order move,Let Caesar be the Kingdom’s Care and Love;Let the hot-headed Mutineers petition,And meddle in the Rights of just Succession:But may all honest Hearts as one agreeTo bless the King, and Royal Albany.
[Exeunt.
Written by a Person of Quality: Spoken by Mrs.Boteler.
My Plot, I fear, will take but with a few,A rich young Heiress to her first Lover true!’.is damn’d unnatural, and past enduring,Against the fundamental Laws of Whoring.Marrying’s the Mask, which Modesty assures,Helps to get new, and covers old Amours;And Husband sounds so dull to a Town-Bride,Ye now-a-days condemn him e’er he’s try’d;E’er in his Office he’s confirmed Possessor,Like Trincaloes you chuse him a Successor,In the gay Spring of Love, when free from Doubts,With early Shoots his Velvet Forehead sprouts,Like a poor Parson bound to hard Indentures,You make him pay his First-fruits e’er he enters.But for short Carnivals of stain good Cheer,You’re after forc’d to keep Lent all the Year;Till brought at last to a starving Nun’s Condition,You break into our Quarters for Provision;Invade Fop-corner with your glaring Beauties,And ‘tice our Loyal Subjects from their Duties.Pray, Ladies, leave that Province to our Care;A Fool is the Fee-simple of a Player,In which we Women claim a double share.In other things the Men are Rulers made;But catching Woodcocks is our proper Trade.If by Stage-Fops they a poor Living get,We can grow rich, thanks to our Mother-Wit,By the more natural Blockheads of the Pit.Take then the Wits, and all their useless Prattles;But as for Fools, they are our Goods and Chattels.Return, Ingrates, to your first Haunt the Stage;We taught your Youth, and helped your feeble Age.What is’t you see in Quality we want?What can they give you which we cannot grant?We have their Pride, their Frolicks, and their Paint.We feel the same Touth dancing in our Blood;Our Dress as gay—All underneath as good.Most Men have found us hitherto more true,And if we’re not abus’d by some of you,We’re full as fair—perhaps as wholesom too.But if at best our hopeful Sport and Trade is,And nothing now will serve you but great Ladies;May question’d Marriages your Fortune be,And Lawyers drain your Pockets more than we:May Judges puzzle a clear Case with Laws,And Musquetoon at last decide the Cause.
Marcella and Cornelia, nieces to Count Morosini and sisters to Julio, who is contracted to Laura Lucretia, a lady of quality, sister of Count Octavio, in order to avoid Marcella’s marriage with this nobleman, secretly leave Viterbo where they live, and accompanied only by their attendants, Petro and Philippa, come to Rome, and there pass for courtezans under the names of Euphemia and Silvianetta. Their beauty wins them great renown in the gay world, and Sir Harry Fillamour, who loves Marcella, and Frank Galliard, two English travellers, are keenly attracted by this reputation. Sir Harry, however, is anxious for matrimony, Galliard for an intrigue. Marcella in her turn is already enamoured of Fillamour whom she has met at Viterbo. Morosini and Octavio follow the fugitives to Rome, whilst Laura Lucretia, who loves Galliard, disguises herself in male attire and takes a house on the Corso next door to the supposed courtezans. Fillamour and Galliard encounter the two ladies in the gardens of the Villa Medici, and Fillamour takes Marcella for a courtezan, whilst Galliard engages with Cornelia. Octavio passing with his followers spies and attacks his rival. A general mêlée ensues. Julio, who has not seen his family for seven years, next appears, having taken Cornelia for a cyprian and followed her from St. Peter’s. Marcella, in boy’s attire, then gives Fillamour a letter from herself, signed under her own name, making an appointment for that night; but at the same time Galliard, claiming a former promise, drags his friend off to visit Euphemia. The intrigue is complicated by the ridiculous amours of two foolish travellers, Sir Signal Buffoon and Mr. Tickletext, a puritan divine, his tutor. These, unknown to each other, make assignations with the two bona robas by means of Petro, who dupes them thoroughly by his clever tricks, and pockets their money. Whilst Galliard and Sir Harry are serenading the ladies, Octavio, Julio and their bravos attack them. After the scuffle Laura Lucretia coming from her house leads in Julio, mistaking him for Galliard, and he her for Silvianetta. Next Sir Harry and Galliard arrive in safety at the sisters’ house, and Marcella, as a courtezan, tempts her lover, who, however, refuses to yield and leaves her, to her secret joy. Tickletext has been placed by Petro in bed to await, as he supposes, Silvianetta, when Galliard in error entering the room in the dark gropes his way to the bed and finding a man, closes with him. The tutor escapes, and Cornelia coming in in the course of her wooing by Galliard informs him she is not really a courtezan as he supposed. In anger her gallant departs. Whilst he is telling Sir Harry this tale Cornelia, dressed as a page, follows him and delivers Fillamour a challenge as from Marcella’s brother, Julio, summoning him to the Piazza di Spagna. Julio himself, newly come from Laura Lucretia, meeting Galliard relates to him how he passed the night with Silvianetta, which confirms the opinion the Englishman had already formed of her treachery and deceit. Laura Lucretia overhears and sends her maid to bring her Galliard; but whilst he is with her, Cornelia, who has jealously followed, feigning to be Julio’s page, gives the amorous dame a letter as from her betrothed. The trick fails, Cornelia is laughed at as a saucy lad, repulsed and obliged to retire. Sir Harry is then met by Marcella dressed as a man and calling herself Julio. Julio himself happens to be at the Piazza di Spagna and he interrupts the quarrel. Octavio and Morosini speedily join him, as Crapine has tracked the runaways to their lodging. All these hurry into the courtezans’ house, where they find Fillamour and Galliard. Mutual explanations follow. Octavio nobly renounces Marcella in favour of Fillamour who claims her hand, whilst Cornelia gives herself to Galliard in sober wedlock. Tickletext and Sir Signal are then discovered to be concealed in the room, and their mutual frailties exposed. It is promised that the money of which Petro has choused them shall be restored, and everything is forgiven, since “‘twas but one night’s intrigue, in which all were a little faulty.”
The plot ofThe Feign’d Curfezans; or,A Night’s Intrigueis wholly original. It is one of those bustling pieces, quick with complicated intrigue, of the Spanishcomedias de capa y espadaschool, which Mrs. Behn loved, and which none could present more happily or wittily than she. To quote theBiographia Dramatics, ‘the play contains a vast deal of business and intrigue; the contrivance of the two ladies to obtain their differently disposed lovers, both by the same means, viz. by assuming the characters of courtezans, being productive of great variety.’ Some incidents, indeed, recallThe Rover; and the accident of Tickletext being discovered in bed by Galliard is similar to that when Carlo comes upon Fetherfool in the same circumstance,RoverII, Act iv, iv. On the whole, however,The Feign’d Curtezansis the better play, and may not unjustly claim to be, if not Mrs. Behn’s masterpiece (a title it disputes withThe Rover, Part I, andThe Lucky Chance), at least one of the very best and wittiest of her sparkling comedies.
The Feign’d Curtezans; or,A Night’s Intriguewas produced at the Duke’s Theatre, Dorset Garden, in 1679. The cast was a star one, and Downes remarks that it was ‘well acted’. but though favourably received it does not, for some unaccountable reason, seem to have met with the triumphant success it certainly deserved. It continued to be played from time to time, and there was a notable revival on 8 August, 1716, at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Galliard was acted by J. Leigh; Sir Harry, Smith; Sir Signal, Bullock; Tickletext, Griffin; Pedro, Spiller; Julio, Bull jun. Cornelia, Mrs. Cross; Marcella, Mrs. Thurmond; Laura Lucretia, Mrs. Spiller. It was performed three times that season, but soon after disappears from the repertory.
Madam,
’.is no wonder that hitherto I followed not the good example of the believing Poets, since less faith and zeal then you alone can inspire, had wanted power to have reduc’t me to the true worship: Your permission,Madam, has inlightened me, and I with shame look back on my past Ignorance, which suffered me not to pay an Adoration long since, where there was so very much due, yet even now though secure in my opinion, I make this Sacrifice with infinite fear and trembling, well knowing that so Excellent and perfect a Creature as your self differs only from the Divine powers in this; the Offerings made to you ought to be worthy of you, whilst they accept the will alone; and how Madam, would your Altars be loaded, if like heaven you gave permission to all that had a will and desire to approach ‘em who now at distance can only wish and admire, which all mankinde agree to do; as if Madam, you alone had the pattent from heaven to ingross all hearts and even those distant slaves whom you conquer with your fame, pay an equall tribute to those that have the blessing of being wounded by your Eyes, and boast the happiness of beholding you dayly; insomuch that succeeding ages who shall with joy survey your History shall Envy us who lived in this, and saw those charming wonders which they can only reade of, and whom we ought in charity to pity, since all the Pictures, pens or pencills can draw, will give ‘em but a faint Idea of what we have the honour to see in such absolute Perfection; they can only guess She was infinitely fair, witty, and deserving, but to what Vast degrees in all, they can only Judge who liv’d to Gaze and Listen; for besides Madam, all the Charms and attractions and powers of your Sex, you have Beauties peculiar to your self, an eternal sweetness, youth and ayr, which never dwelt in any face but yours, of which not one unimitable Grace could be ever borrow’d, or assumed, though with never so much industry, to adorn another, they cannot steal a look or smile from you to inhance their own beauties price, but all the world will know it yours; so natural and so fitted are all your Charms and Excellencies to one another, so intirely design’d and created to make up in you alone the most perfect lovely thing in the world; you never appear but you glad the hearts of all that have the happy fortune to see you, as if you were made on purpose to put the whole world into good Humour, whenever you look abroad, and when you speak, men crowd to listen with that awfull reverence as to Holy Oracles or Divine Prophesies, and bears away the precious words to tell at home to all the attentive family the Graceful things you utter’d and cry,but oh she spoke with such an Ayr, so gay, that half the beauty’s lost in the repetition. ‘Tis this that ought to make your Sex vain enough to despise the malicious world that will allow a woman no wit, and bless our selves for living in an Age that can produce so wondrous an argument as your undeniable self, to shame those boasting talkers who are Judges of nothing but faults.
But how much in vain Madam, I endeavour to tell you the sence of all mankinde with mine, since to the utmost Limits of the Universe your mighty Conquests are made known: And who can doubt the Power of that Illustrious Beauty, the Charms of that tongue, and the greatness of that minde, who has subdu’d the most powerfull and Glorious Monarch of the world: And so well you bear the honours you were born for, with a greatness so unaffected, an affability so easie, an Humour so soft, so far from Pride or Vanity, that the most Envious & most disaffected can finde no cause or reason to wish you less, Nor can Heaven give you more, who has exprest a particular care of you every way, and above all in bestowing on the world and you, two noble Branches, who have all the greatness and sweetness of their Royal and beautiful stock; and who give us too a hopeful Prospect of what their future Braveries will perform, when they shall shoot up and spread themselves to that degree, that all the lesser world may finde repose beneath their shades; and whom you have permitted to wear those glorious Titles which you your self Generously neglected, well knowing with the noble Poet; ‘tis better far to merit Titles then to wear ‘em.
Can you then blame my Ambition, Madam, that lays this at your feet, and begs a Sanctuary where all pay so great a Veneration? ‘twas Dedicated yours before it had a being, and overbusy to render it worthy of the Honour, made it less grateful; and Poetry like Lovers often fares the worse by taking too much pains to please; but under so Gracious an Influence my tender Lawrells may thrive, till they become fit Wreaths to offer to the Rays that improve their Growth: which Madam, I humbly implore, you still permit her ever to do, who is,
Madam,Your most Humble,and most Obedient Servant,A. Behn.
THE FEIGN’D CURTEZANS; or, A Night’s Intrigue.
Spoken by Mrs.Currer.
The Devil take this cursed plotting Age,’. has ruin’d all our Plots upon the Stage;Suspicions, New Elections, Jealousies,Fresh Informations, New Discoveries,Do so employ the busy fearful Town,Our honest Calling here is useless grown:Each Fool turns Politician now, and wearsA formal Face, and talks of State-affairs;Makes Acts, Decrees, and a new Model drawsFor Regulation both of Church and Laws;Tires out his empty Noddle to inventWhat Rule and Method’s best in Government:But Wit, as if ‘twere Jesuitical,Is an Abomination to ye all.To what a wretched pass will poor Plays come?This must be damn’d, the Plot is laid inRome;’.is hard—yet—Not one amongst ye all I’ll undertake,E’er thought that we should suffer for Religion’s sake:Who wou’d have thought that wou’d have been th’ occasionOf any contest in our hopeful Nation?For my own Principles, faith let me tell ye,I’m still of the Religion of my Cully;And till these dangerous times they’d none to fix on,But now are something in mere Contradiction,And piously pretend these are not days,For keeping Mistresses, and seeing Plays:Who says this Age a Reformation wants,WhenBetty Currer’sLovers all turns Saints?In vain, alas, I flatter, swear, and vow,You’ll scarce do any thing for Charity now:Yet I am handsom still, still young and mad,Can wheedle, lye, dissemble, jilt—egad,As well and artfully as e’er I did;Yet not one Conquest can I gain or hope,No Prentice, not a Foreman of a Shop,So that I want extremely new Supplies;Of my last Coxcomb, faith, these were the Prize;And by the tatter’d Ensigns you may know,These Spoils were of a Victory long ago:Who wou’d have thought such hellish Times to have seen,When I shou’d be neglected at Eighteen?That Youth and Beauty shou’d be quite undone,A Pox upon the Whore ofBabylon.
Morosini, an old Count, Uncle toJulio. Mr.Norris.Julio, his Nephew, a young Count, contracted toLaura Lucretia. Mr.Crosby.Octavioa young Count, contracted toMarcella, deformed, revengeful. Mr.Gillo.Crapine,Morosini’sMan.Petro, supposed Pimp to the two Curtezans. Mr.Leigh.Silvio, Page toLaura Lucretia.Antonio, an Attendant toLaura Lucretia. Page toJulio.
SirHarry Fillamour, in love with _Marcella. Mr.Smith.Mr.Galliard, in love withCornelia. Mr.Betterton.SirSignal Buffoon, a Fool. Mr.Nokes.Mr.Tickletext, his Governour. Mr.Underbill.Jack, SirSignal’sMan.Page toFillamour.
Laura Lucretia_, a young Lady of Quality, contractedtoJulio, in love withGalliard, andSister toOctavio. Mrs.Lee.Marcella, Mrs.Currer.andCornelia, Mrs.Barry.Sisters toJulio, and Nieces toMorosini,and pass for Curtezans by the names ofEuphemiaandSilvianetta.Philippa, their Woman. Mrs.Norris.Sabina, Confident toLaura Lucretia. Mrs.Seymour.
Pages, Musick, Footmen, and Bravos.
EnterLaura Lucretia,andSilviorichly drest; Antonioattending, coming all in haste.
Sil. Madam, you need not make such haste away, the Stranger that follow’d us from St.Peter’sChurch pursues us no longer, and we have now lost sight of him: Lord, who wou’d have thought the approach of a handsome Cavalier should have possestDonna Laura Lucretiawith fear?
Lau. I do not fear, mySilvio, but I wou’d have this new Habitation which I have design’d for Love, known to none but him to whom I’ve destin’d my Heart:—ah, wou’d he knew the Conquest he has made, [Aside.] Nor went I this Evening to Church with any other Devotion, but that which warms my heart for my youngEnglishCavalier, whom I hop’d to have seen there; and I must find some way to let him know my Passion, which is too high for Souls like mine to hide.
Sil. Madam, the Cavalier’s in view again, and hot in the pursuit.
Lau. Let’s haste away then; and,Silvio, do you lag behind, ‘twill give him an opportunity of enquiring, whilst I get out of sight.—Be sure you conceal my Name and Quality, and tell him—any thing but truth—tell him I amLa Silvianetta, the young Roman Curtezan, or what you please to hide me from his knowledge.
[ExeuntLau.andAnt.
EnterJulioand Page in pursuit.
Jul. Boy, fall you into discourse with that Page, and learn his Lady’s Name—whilst I pursue her farther. [Ex. Jul.
[Page salutesSilvio,who returns it; they go out as talking to each other.
Enter SirHarry FillamourandGalliard.
Fil. He follows her close, whoe’er they be: I see this trade of Love goes forward still.
Gal. And will whilst there’s difference in Sexes. But,Harry, the Women, the delicate Women I was speaking of?
Fil. Prithee tell me no more of thy fine Women,Frank; thou hast not been inRomeabove a Month, and thou’ast been a dozen times in love, as thou call’s! it; to me there is no pleasure like Constancy.
Gal. Constancy! and wou’dst thou have me one of those dull Lovers, who believe it their Duty to love a Woman ‘till her Hair and Eyes change Colour, for fear of the scandalous Name of an Inconstant? No, my Passion, like great Victors, hates the lazy stay; but having vanquisht, prepares for new Conquests.
Fil. Which you gain as they do Towns by Fire, lose ‘em even in the taking; thou wo’t grow penitent, and weary of these dangerous Follys.
Gal. But I am yet too young for both: Let old Age and Infirmity bring Repentance,—there’s her feeble Province, and even then too we find no plague like being deprived of dear Woman-kind.
Fil. I hate playing about a Flame that will consume me.
Gal. Away with your antiquated Notions, and let’s once hear sense from thee: Examine but the whole World,Harry, and thou wilt find a beautiful Woman the Desire of the noblest, and the Reward of the bravest.
Fil. And the common Prize of Coxcombs: Times are alter’d now,Frank; why else shou’d the Virtuous be cornuted, the Coward be caress’d, the Villain roll with six, and the Fool lie with her Ladyship?
Gal. Mere accident, Sir; and the kindness of Fortune: but a pretty witty young Creature, such as thisSilvianettaandEuphemia, is certainly the greatest Blessing this wicked World can afford us.
Fil. I believe the lawful enjoyment of such a Woman, and honest too, wou’d be a Blessing.
Gal. Lawful Enjoyment! Prithee what’s lawful Enjoyment, but to enjoy ’.m according to the generous indulgent Law of Nature; enjoy ‘em as we do Meat, Drink, Air, and Light, and all the rest of her common Blessings?— Therefore prithee, dear Knight, let me govern thee but for a Day, and I will shew thee such aSigniora, such a Beauty, another manner of piece than your so admiredViterboan, Donna Marcella, of whom you boast so much.
Fil. And yet this rare piece is but a Curtezan, in coarse plainEnglisha very Whore,—who filthily exposes all her Beauties to him can give her most, not love her best.
Gal. Why, faith, to thy comfort be it spoken, she does distribute her Charms at that easy rate.
Fil. Oh, the vast distance between an innocent Passion, and a poor faithless Lust!
Gal. Innocent Passion atRome! Oh, ‘tis not to be nam’d but in some Northern Climate: to be an Anchoret here, is to be an Epicure inGreenland; impossibilities,Harry. Sure thou hast been advising with SirSignal Buffoon’sGovernour, that formal piece of Nonsense and Hypocrisy.
Fil. No, faith, I brought the humour along with me toRome; and for your Governour I have not seen him yet, though he lodge in this same House with us, and you promis’d to bring me acquainted with him long since.
Gal. I’ll do’t this very minute.
Fil. No, I’m oblig’d not to engage my self this Evening, because I expect the arrival of CountJulio, whose last Letters assured me it would be to night.
Gal.Julio! What, the youngItalianCount you made me acquainted with last Summer inEngland?
Fil. The same, the Ambassador’s Nephew, a good Youth, and one I esteem.
EnterJulio.
Jul. I hope my Page will bring intelligence who this Beauty is.
Fil. Hah,Julio! Welcome, dear Friend. [Embraces him.
Jul. SirHarry Fillamour! how glad am I to meet you in a Country, where I have power to repay you all those Friendships I receiv’d when I was a stranger in yours. MonsieurGalllardtoo! nay, then I’m sure to want no diversion whilst I stay inRome. [SalutesGalliard.
Fil. But, pray, what made you leaveEnglandso soon?
Jul. E’en the great business of Mankind, Matrimony. I have an Uncle here, who has provided me Fetters, which I must put on, he says they will be easy; I lik’d the Character of my Mistress well enough, a brave masculine Lady, a Roman of Quality,Donna Laura Lucretia; till as luck wou’d have it, at my arrival this Evening, stepping into St.Peter’sChurch, I saw a Woman there that fir’d my heart, and whom I followed to her house: but meeting none that cou’d inform me who she was, I left my Page to make the discovery, whilst I with equal impatience came to look you out; whose sight I prefer even to a new Amour, resolving not to visit home, to which I have been a stranger this seven years, till I had kist your hands, and gained your promise to accompany me toViterbo.
Fil.Viterbo! is that your place of Residence?
Jul. Yes, ‘tis a pretty Town, and many noble Familys inhabit there, stor’d too with Beauties, at least ‘twas wont to be: have you not seen it?
Gal. Yes, and a Beauty there too, lately, for his repose, who has made him sigh and look so like an Ass ever since he came toRome.
Jul. I am glad you have so powerful an Argument, to invite you back; I know she must be rare and of quality, that cou’d engage your heart.
Fil. She’s both; it most unluckily fell out, that I was recommended by a Person of Quality inEnglandto a Nobleman atViterbo, who being a Man of a Temper frank and gallant, received me with less Ceremony than is usual inItaly. I had the freedom of the House, one of the finestVilla’sbelonging toViterbo, and the pleasure to see and converse at a distance with one of the loveliest Persons in the World, a Niece of this old Count’s.
Jul. Very well, and cou’d you see her but at a distance, Sir?
Fil. Oh, no, ‘twas all I durst desire, or she durst give; I came too late to hope; she being before promised in Marriage to a more happy man, the Consummation of which waits only the arrival of a Brother of hers, who is now at the Court ofFrance, and every day expected.
EnterPetrolike a Barber.
Gal. Hah! SigniorPetro.
Fil. Come, Sir, we’ll take a turn i’th’ Gallery, for this Pimp never appears, butFrancisdesires to be in private.
Gal. Thou wrong’st an honest ingenious Fellow, to call him Pimp.
Pet. Ah, Signior, what his Worship pleases!
Gal. That thou art I’ll be sworn, or what any man’s Worship pleases; for let me tell ye,Harry, he is capacitated to oblige in any quality: for, Sir, he’s your brokering Jew, your Fencing, Dancing, and Civility-Master, your Linguist, your Antiquary, your Bravo, your Pathick, Your Whore, your Pimp; and a thousand more Excellencies he has to supply The necessities of the wanting Stranger.—Well, Sirrah—what design now Upon SirSignaland his wise Governour?—What do you represent now?
Pet. A Barber, Sir.
Gal. And why a Barber, good SigniorPetro?
Pet. Oh, Sir, the sooner to take the heights of their Judgments; it gives handsome opportunities to commend their Faces; for if they are pleas’d with flattery, the certain sign of a Fool’s to be most tickled when most commended, I conclude ‘em the fitter for my purpose; they already put great confidence in me, will have no Masters but of my recommending, all which I supply my self, by the help of my several disguises; by which, and my industry, I doubt not but to pick up a good honest painful livelihood, by cheating these two Reverend Coxcombs.
Gal. How the Devil got’st thou this credit with ‘em?
Pet. O, easily, Sir, as Knaves get Estates, or Fools Employments.
Fil. I hope amongst all your good qualities, you forgot not your more natural one of pimping.
Pet. No, I assure you, Sir; I have told SirSignal Buffoon, that no Man lives here without his Inamorata: which very word has so fir’d him, that he’s resolved to have an Inamorata whate’er it cost him; and, as in all things else, I have in that too promised my assistance.
Gal. If you assist him no better than you have done me, he may stay long enough for his Inamorata.
Pet. Why, faith, Sir, I lie at my young Lady night and day; but she is so loth to part with that same Maiden-head of hers yet—but to morrow night, Sir, there’s hopes.—
Gal. To morrow night; Oh, ‘tis an Age in Love! Desire knows no time but the present, ‘tis now I wish, and now I wou’d enjoy: a new Day ought to bring a new Desire.
Pet. Alas, Sir, I’m but an humble Bravo.
Gal. Yes, thou’rt a Pimp, yet want’st the Art to procure a longingLover the Woman he adores, though but a common Curtezan—Oh, confound herMaiden-head—she understands her Trade too well, to have that badge ofInnocence.
Pet. I offered her her Price, Sir.
Gal. Double it, give any thing, for that’s the best receipt I ever found to soften Womens hearts.
Pet. Well, Sir, she will be this Evening in the Garden ofMedices Villa, there you may get an opportunity to advance your Interest—I must step and trimMr. Tickletext, and then am at your service. [ExitPetro.
Jul. What is this Knight and his Governour, who have the blessed Fortune to be manag’d by this Squire?
Fil. Certain FoolsGalliardmakes use of when he has a mind to laugh, and whom I never thought worth a visit since I came toRome:and he’s like to profit much by his Travels, who keeps company with all theEnglish, especially the Fops.
Gal. Faith, Sir, I came not abroad to return with the formality of a Judge; and these are such antidotes against Melancholy as wou’d make thee fond of fooling.—Our Knight’s Father is even the first Gentleman of his House, a Fellow, who having the good fortune to be much a Fool and Knave, had the attendant blessing of getting an Estate of some eight thousand a year, with this Coxcomb to inherit it; who (to aggrandize the Name and Family of theBuffoons) was made a Knight; but to refine throughout, and make a compleat Fop, was sent abroad under the Government of one Mr.Tickletext, his zealous Father’s Chaplain, as errant a blockhead as a man wou’d wish to hear preach; the Father wisely foreseeing the eminent danger that young Travellers are in of being perverted to Popery.
Jul. ‘Twas well considered.
Gal. But for the young Spark, there is no description can reach him; ’.is only to be done by himself; let it suffice, ‘tis a pert, saucy, conceited Animal, whom you shall just now go see and admire, for he lodges in the house with us.
Jul. With all my heart, I never long’d more for a new acquaintance.
Fil. And in all probability shall sooner desire to be rid on’t.—Allons.
[Exeunt.
TickletextandPetro.
Pet. Ah che Bella! Bella! I swear by these sparkling Eyes and these soft plump dimpled Cheeks, there’s not a Signiora in allRome, cou’d she behold ‘em, were able to stand their Temptations; and forLa Silvianetta, my life on’t, she’s your own.
Tick. Teze, teze, speak softly; but, honestBarberacho, do I, do I indeed look plump, and young, and fresh and—hah!
Pet. Ay, Sir, as the rosy Morn, young as old Time in his Infancy, and plump as the pale-fac’d Moon.
Tick. He—Why, this Travelling must needs improve a Man—Why, how admirably well-spoken your very Barbers are here—[Aside.]—But,Barberacho, did the young Gentlewoman say she lik’d me? did she, Rogue? did she?
Pet. A doated on you Signior, doated on you.
Tick. Why, and that’s strange now, in the Autumn of my Age too, when Nature began to be impertinent, as a Man may say, that a young Lady shou’d fall in love with me—[Aside.] Why,Barberacho, I do not conceive any great matter of Sin only in visiting a Lady that loves a man, hah.
Pet. Sin, Sir! ‘tis a frequent thing now-a-days in Persons of your Complexion.
Tick. Especially here atRometoo, where ‘tis no scandal.
Pet. Ah, Signior, where the Ladies are privileg’d and Fornication licensed.
Tick. Right! and when ‘tis licens’d, ‘tis lawful; and when ‘tis lawful, it can be no Sin: besides,Barberacho, I may chance to turn her, who knows?
Pet. Turn her, Signior, alas, any way, which way you please.
Tick. He, he, he! There thou wert knavish, I doubt—but I mean convert her—nothing else I profess,Barberacho.
Pet. True, Signior, true, she’s a Lady of an easy nature, and an indifferent Argument well handled will do’t—ha—here’s your head of Hair—here’s your natural [combing out his Hair.] Frize! And such an Air it gives the Face!—So, Signior—Now you have the utmost my Art can do. [Takes away the Cloth, and bows.
Tick. Well, Signior,—and where’s your Looking-glass?
Pet. My Looking-glass!
Tick. Yes, Signior, your Looking-glass! anEnglishBarber wou’d as soon have forgotten to have snapt his fingers, made his leg, or taken his Money, as have neglected his Looking-glass.
Pet. Ay, Signior, in your Country the Laity have so little Honesty, they are not to be trusted with the taking off your Beard unless you see’t done:—but here’s a Glass, Sir. [Gives him the Glass.
[Tick.sets himself and smirks in the Glass, Pet.standing behind him, making horns and grimaces, whichTick.sees in the Glass, gravely rises, turns towardsPetro.
Tick. Why, how now,Barberacho, what monstrous Faces are you making there?
Pet. All, my Belly, my Belly, Signior: ah, this Wind-Cholick! this Hypocondriack does so torment me! ah—
Tick. Alas, poor Knave;certo, I thought thou hadst been somewhat uncivil with me, I profess I did.
Pet. Who, I, Sir, uncivil?—I abuse my Patrone!—I that have almost made my self a Pimp to serve you?
Tick. Teze, teze, honestBarberacho!no, no, no, all’s well, all’s well:—but hark ye—you will be discreet and secret in this business now, and above all things conceal the knowledge of this Gentlewoman from SirSignaland Mr.Galliard.
Pet. The Rack, Signior, the Rack shall not extort it.
Tick. Hold thy Hand—there’s somewhat for thee, [Gives him Money.] but shall I, Rogue—shall I see her to night?—
Pet. To night, Sir, meet me in the PiazzaD’Hispagnia, about ten a Clock,—I’ll meet you there,—but ‘tis fit, Signior—that I should provide a Collation,—’tis the custom here, Sir.—
Tick. Well, well, what will it come to?—here’s an Angel.—
Pet. Why, Sir, ‘twill come to—about—for you wou’d do’t handsomely— some twenty Crowns.—
Tick. How, man, twenty Crowns!
Pet. Ay, Signior, thereabouts.
Tick. Twenty Crowns!—Why, ‘tis a Sum, a Portion, a Revenue.
Pet. Alas, Signior, ‘tis nothing with her,—she’ll look it out in an hour,—ah, such an Eye, so sparkling, with an amorous Twire—Then, Sir— she’ll kiss it out in a moment,—such a Lip, so red, so round, so plump, so soft, and so—
Tick. Why, has she, has she, Sirrah—hah—here, here, prithee take money, here, and make no words on’t—go, go your way, go—But to entertain SirSignalwith other matter, pray send his Masters to him; if thou canst help him to Masters, and me to Mistresses, thou shalt be the good Genius of us both: but see where he comes—
Enter SirSignal.
SirSig. Hah!Signior Illustrissimo Barberacho, let me hug thee, my littleMiphistophiloucho—de ye see here, how fine your Brokering Jew has made me, SigniorRabbi Manaseth—Ben—Nebiton, and so forth; hah— view me round— [Turns round.
Tick. I profess ‘tis as fit as if it had been made for you.
SirSig. Made for me—Why, Sir, he swore to me by the old Law, that ’.was never worn but once, and that but by one High-German Prince—I have forgot his name—for the Devil can never remember a fart these dam’dHogan-MoganTitles.
Tick. No matter, Sir.
SirSig. Ay, but I shou’d be loth to be in any man’s Clothes, were he never so high a German Prince—except I knew his name though.
Tick. Sir, I hold his name unnecessary to be remembred, so long as ’.was a princely Penniworth.—Barberacho, get you gone, and send the Masters. [Ex. Petro.
SirSig. Why, how now, Governour? how now, SigniorTickletext! prithee how camest thou so transmogrified, ha? why, thou look’st like any new-fledg’dCupid.
Tick. Do I? away, you flatter; do I?
SirSig. As I hope to breathe, your Face shines through your pouder’dHairs, like you know what on a Barn-door in a frosty morning.
Tick. What a filthy comparison there for a man of my Coat?
SirSig. What, angry—Corpo di me, I meant no harm,—Come, shall’s to aBonaroba, where thou shalt part with thy Pusilage, and that of thy Beard together?
Tick. How mean you, Sir, a Curtezan, and a Romish Curtezan?
SirSig. Now my Tutor’s up, ha, ha, ha—and ever is when one names aWhore; be pacify’d, Man, be pacify’d, I know thou hat’st ‘em worse thanBeads or Holy-water.
Tick. Away, you are such another Knight—but leave this naughty discourse, and prepare for your Fencing and Civility-Masters, who are coming.
SirSig. Ay, when, Governour, when? Oh, how I long for myCivility-Master, that I may learn to out-complement all the dullKnights and Squires inKent, with aServitore Hulichimo—NoSigniora Bellissima, base le Mane de vos Signiora scusa miaIllustrissimo, caspeto de Bacco, and so I’ll run on, hah, Governour,hah! won’t this be pure?
Tick. Notably ingenious, I profess.
SirSig. Well, I’ll send myStaffierafor himincontinente.—he,Jack—a—Cazo, what a damnedEnglishname isJack? let me see—I will call himGiovanni—which is as much as to sayJohn!—heGiovanni.
EnterJack.
Tick. Sir, by your favour, hisEnglishProtestant Name isJohn Pepper, and I’ll call him by ne’er a Popish Name in Christendom.
SirSig. I’ll call my own man, Sir, by what name I please, Sir; and let me tell you, Reverend Mr.Tickletext, I scorn to be served by any man whose name has not anAchoor anOucho, or someItalianoat the end on’t—thereforeGiovanni Peperachois the name by which you shall be distinguish’d and dignify’d hereafter.
Tick. SirSignal, SirSignal, let me tell you, that to call a man out of his name is unwarrantable, forPeteris call’dPeter, andJohn John; and I’ll not see the poor Fellow wrong’d of his Name for ne’er aGiovanniinRome.
SirSig. Sir, I tell you that oneItalianName is worth any twoEnglishNames in Europe, and I’ll be judg’d by my Civility-Master.
Tick. Who shall end the dispute if he be of my opinion?
SirSig.Multo voluntiero, which is as much as to say, with all my heart.
Jack. But, Sir, my Grandmother wou’d never own me, if I should change the cursen Name she gave me with her own hands, an’t please your Worship.
SirSig. HeBestia! I’ll have no more of your Worship, Sirrah, that oldEnglishSir Reverence, let me have you call meSignior Illustrissimoor Patrona Mea_—or—
Tick. Ay, that I like well enough now:—but hold, sure this is one of your Masters.
EnterPetrodrest like a French Fencing-Master.
Pet. SigniorBarberachohas sent me to teach you de Art of Fencing.
SirSig.Illustrissimo Signior Monsieur, I am the Person who am to learn.
Tick. Stay, Sir, stay—let me ask him some few questions first: for, Sir, I have play’d at Back-Sword, and cou’d have handled ye a weapon as well as any Man of my time in the University.
SirSig. Say you so, Mr.Tickletext?and faith, you shall have a bout with him.
[Tick.gravely goes toPetro.
Tick. Hum—hum—Mr.Monsieur—pray what are the Guards that you like best?
Pet.Monsieur, eder de Quart or de Terse, dey be bothFrenchandItalian: den for your Parades, Degagements, your Advancements, your Eloynements and Retierments, dey be de same.
Tick. Cart and Horse, what new-found inventions and words have we here?—Sir, I wou’d know, whether you like St.George’sGuard or not.
Pet. Alons—Monsieur, Mettez vous en Guard!take de Flurette.
SirSig. Nay, faith and troth, Governor, thou shalt have a Rubbers with him.
[Tick,smiling refuses.
Tick. Nay,certo, SirSignal,—and yet you shall prevail;—well, Sir, come your ways. [Takes the Flurette.
Pet. Set your right foot forward, turn up your hand so—dat bede Quart—now turn it dus—and dat bede Terse.
Tick. Hocus Pocus, Hicksius Doxius—here be de Cart, and here be de Horse—why, what’s all this for; hah, Sir—and where’s your Guard all this while?
SirSig. Ay, Sir, where’s your Guard, Sir, as my Governour says, Sir, hah?
Tick. Come, come, Sir, I must instruct you, I see; Come your ways, Sir.—
Pet.Attende, attende une peu—trust de right hand and de right leg forward together.—
Tick. I marry, Sir, that’s a good one indeed: What shall become of my Head then, Sir? what Guard have I left for that, good Mr.Monsieur, hah?
Pet. Ah, Morbleu, is not dis for every ting?
Tick. No, marry, is not it, Sir; St.George’sGuard is best for the Head whilst you live—as thus, Sir.
Pet. Dat, Sir, ha, ha—dat be de Guard for de Back-Sword.
Tick. Back-sword, Sir, yes, Back-sword, what shou’d it be else?
Pet. And dis be de Single-Rapier.
Tick. Single-Rapier with a Vengeance, there’s a weapon for a Gentleman indeed; is all this stir about Single-Rapier?
Pet. Single-Rapier! What wou’d you have for de Gentlemen, de Cudgel for de Gentlemen?
Tick. No, Sir, but I wou’d have it for de RascallyFrenchman, who comes to abuse Persons of Quality with paltry Single-Rapier.— Single-Rapier! Come, Sir, come—put your self in your Cart and your Horse as you call it, and I’ll shew you the difference.
[Undresses himself till he appears in a ridiculous Posture.
Pet. Ah,Monsieur, me sall run you two three times through de Body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat?—Pox on his ignorance. [Aside.
Tick. Oh, ho, Sir, do your worst, Sir, do your worst, Sir.
[They put themselves into several Guards, andTick.beatsPet.about the Stage.—EnterGall. Fill.andJul.
Pet. Ah,Monsieur, Monsieur, will you kill a me?
Tick. Ah,Monsieur, where be your Carts now, and your Horse, Mr.Monsieur, hah?—and your Single-Rapier, Mr.Monsieur, hah?—
Gal. Why, how now, Mr.Tickletext, what mortal Wars are these?AjaxandUlyssescontending forAchilleshis Armour?
Pet. If I be not reveng’d on him, hang me. [Aside
SirSig. Ay, why, who the Devil wou’d have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands? butCorpo de me, Mr.Galliard, I have not seen his Fellow.
Tick. Ah, Sir, time was, I wou’d have play’d ye a Match at Cudgels with e’er a Sophister in the College, but verily I have forgotten it; but here’s an ImpudentFrenchmanthat wou’d have past Single-Rapier upon us.
Gal. How, nay a my word, then he deserv’d to be chastis’d for’t—but now all’s at Peace again; pray know my Kinsman, SirHarry Fillamour.
SirSig.Yo baco les manos, SigniorIllustrissimo Cavaliero,—and yours, Signiors, who areMulto bien Venito.
Tick. Oh Lord, Sir, you take me, Sir, in such a posture, Sir, as I protest I have not been in this many years.
[Dressing himself whilst he talks.
Fil. Exercise is good for health, Sir.
Gal. SirSignal, you are grown a perfectItalian: Well, Mr.Tickletext, you will carry him home a most accomplish’t Gentleman I see.
Tick. Hum, verily, Sir, though I say it, for a Man that never travell’d before, I think I have done reasonably well—I’ll tell you, Sir—it was by my directions and advice that he brought over with him,—twoEnglishKnives, a thousand ofEnglishPins, four pair ofJerseyStockings, and as many pair of Buckskin Gloves.
SirSig. Ay, Sir, for good Gloves you know are very scarce Commodities in this Country.
Jul. Here, Sir, atRome, as you say, above all other places.
Tick.Certo, mere hedging Gloves, Sir, and the clouterlest Seams.
Fil. Very right, Sir,—and now he talks ofRome,—Pray, Sir, give me your opinion of the Place—Are there not noble Buildings here, rare Statues, and admirable Fountains?
Tick. Your Buildings are pretty Buildings, but not comparable to our University Buildings; your Fountains, I confess, are, pretty Springs,— and your Statues reasonably well carv’d—but, Sir, they are so ancient they are of no value: then your Churches are the worst that ever I saw— that ever I saw.
Gal. How, Sir, the Churches, why I thoughtRomehad been famous throughout allEuropefor fine Churches.
Fil. What think you of St.Peter’sChurch, Sir? Is it not a glorious Structure?
Tick. St.Peter’sChurch, Sir, you may as well call it St.Peter’sHall, Sir; it has neither Pew, Pulpit, Desk, Steeple, nor Ring of Bells; and call you this a Church, Sir? No, Sir, I’ll say that for littleEngland, and a fig for’t, for Churches, easy Pulpits, [SirSig. speaks, And sleeping Pews,] they are as well ordered as any Churches in Christendom: and finer Rings of Bells, Sir, I am sure were never heard.
Jul. Oh, Sir, there’s much in what you say.
Fil. But then, Sir, your rich Altars, and excellent Pictures of the greatest Masters of the World, your delicate Musick and Voices, make some amends for the other wants.
Tick. How, Sir! tell me of your rich Altars, your Guegaws and Trinkets, and Popish Fopperies, with a deal of Sing-song—when I say, give me, Sir, five hundred close Changes rung by a set of good Ringers, and I’ll not exchange ‘em for all the Anthems inEurope: and for the Pictures, Sir, they are Superstition, idolatrous, and flat Popery.
Fil. I’ll convince you of that Error, that persuades you harmless Pictures are idolatrous.
Tick. How, Sir, how, Sir, convince me! talk to me of being convinc’d, and that in favour of Popery! No, Sir, by your favour I shall not be convinc’d: convinc’d, quoth a!—no, Sir, fare you well, an you be for convincing: come away, SirSignal, fare you well, Sir, fare you well:— convinc’d! [Goes out.
SirSig. Ha, ha, ha, so now is my Governour gone in a Fustian-fume: well, he is ever thus when one talks of Whoring and Religion: but come, Sir, walk in, and I’ll undertake, my Tutor shall beg your Pardon, and renounce hisEnglishill-bred Opinion; nay, hisEnglishChurches too—all but his own Vicaridge.
Fil. I have better diversion, Sir, I thank you—come,Julio, are you for a Walk in the Garden ofMedices Villa, ‘tis hard by?—
Jul. I’ll wait on you— [Ex. Fil.andJulio.
SirSig. How in the Garden ofMedices Villa?—but, harkye,Galliard, will the Ladies be there, the Curtezans, theBona Roba’s, theInamorata’s, and theBell Ingrato’s, hah?
Gal. Oh, doubtless, Sir. [Exit. Gall.
SirSig. I’ll e’en bring my Governour thither to beg his Pardon, on purpose to get an opportunity to see the fine Women; it may be I may get a sight of my new Mistress,Donna Silvianetta, whomPetrois to bring me acquainted with.
[Exeunt.
EnterMorosiniandOctavio.
Oct. By Heaven, I will not eat, nor sleep, nor pray for any thing but swift and sure Revenge, till I have foundMarcella, that false deceiving Beauty, or her Lover, my hated RivalFillamour; who, wanton in the Arms of the fair Fugitive, laughs at my shameful easiness, and cries, these Joys were never meant for tameOctavio.
EnterCrapine.
Mar. How now,Crapine! What, no News, no News of my Nieces yet,MarcellaandCornelia?
Crap. None, Sir.
Oct. That’s wondrous strange,Rome’sa place of that general Intelligence, methinks thou might’st have News of such trivial things as Women, amongst the Cardinals Pages: I’ll undertake to learn the Religionde stato, and present juncture of all affairs inItaly, of a common Curtezan.
Mar. Sirrah, Sirrah, let it be your care to examine all the Nunneries, for my own part not a Petticoat shall escape me.
Oct. My task shall be forFillamour. [Aside.
Mor. I’ll only make a visit to your SisterDonna Laura Lucretia, and deliver her a Letter from my NephewJulio, and return to you presently.— [Going out, is staid byOctavio.
Oct. Stay, Sir, defer your visit to my SisterLaura, she is not yet to know of my being in Town; ‘tis therefore I have taken a Lodging in an obscure street, and am resolv’d never to be my self again till I’ve redeem’d my Honour. Come, Sir, let’s walk—
Enter to them, as they are going out, MarcellaandCornelia,drest like Curtezans, Philippa,and Attendance.
Mor. Stay, stay, what Women are these?
Oct. Whores, Sir, and so ‘tis ten to one are all the kind; only these differ from the rest in this, they generously own their trade of Sin, which others deal by stealth in; they are Curtezans. [Exeunt.
Mar. The Evening’s soft and calm, as happy Lovers Thoughts; And here are Groves where the kind meeting Trees Will hide us from the amorous gazing Croud.
Cor. What should we do there, sigh till our wandering BreathHas rais’d a gentle Gale amongst the Boughs;To whose dull melancholy Musick we,Laid on a Bed of Moss, and new-fallen Leaves,Will read the dismal tale of Echo’s Love!—No, I can make better use of famousOvid.[Snatches a little Book from her.And prithee what a pox have we to do with Trees,Flowers, Fountains, or naked Statues?
Mar. But, prithee, madCornelia, let’s be grave and wise, at least enough to think a little.
Cor. On what? yourEnglishCavalierFillamour, of whom you tell so many dull stories of his making Love! Oh, how I hate a civil whining Coxcomb!
Mar. And so do I, I’ll therefore think of him no more.
Cor. Good Lord! what a damnable wicked thing is a Virgin grown up to Woman.
Mar. What, art thou such a Fool to think I love thisFillamour?
Cor. It may be not atRome, but atViterbo, where Men are scarce, you did; and did you follow him toRome, to tell him you cou’d love no more?
Mar. A too forward Maid,Cornelia, hurts her own Fame, and that of all her Sex.
Cor. Her Sex! a pretty consideration, by my Youth; an Oath I shall not violate this dozen years: my Sex shou’d excuse me, if to preserve their Fame they expected I should ruin my own Quiet; in chasing an ill-favour’d Husband, such asOctavio, before a young handsome Lover, such as you sayFillamouris.
Mar. I wou’d fain persuade my self to be of thy mind,—but the World,Cornelia—
Cor. Hang the malicious World—
Mar. And there’s such Charms in Wealth and Honour too.
Cor. None half so powerful as Love, in my opinion; ‘slife, Sister, thou art beautiful, and hast a Fortune too, which before I wou’d lay out upon so shameful a purchase as such a Bedfellow for life asOctavio, I wou’d turn errant keeping Curtezan, and buy my better Fortune.
Mar. That Word too startles me.
Cor. What, Curtezan! why, ‘tis a noble Title, and has more Votaries than Religion; there’s no Merchandize like ours, that of Love, my Sister:—and can you be frighted with the Vizor, which you your self put on?
Mar. ‘Twas the only Disguise that cou’d secure us from the search of my Uncle andOctavio. Our BrotherJuliois by this too arriv’d, and I know they’ll all be diligent,—and some Honour I was content to sacrifice to my eternal Repose.
Cor. Spoke like my Sister! a little impertinent Honour, we may chance to lose, ‘tis true; but our down-right Honesty I perceive you are resolv’d we shall maintain through all the dangers of Love and Gallantry; though to say truth, I find enough to do, to defend my Heart against some of those Members that nightly serenade us, and daily show themselves before our Window, gay as young Bridegrooms, and as full of expectation.