Curst be the memory, nay double curst,Of her that wedded age for interest first!Though worn with years, with fruitless wishes full,'Tis all day troublesome, and all night dull.Who wed with fools, indeed, lead happy lives;Fools are the fittest, finest things for wives:Yet old men profit bring, as fools bring ease,And both make youth and wit much better please.[Exeunt.
Curst be the memory, nay double curst,Of her that wedded age for interest first!Though worn with years, with fruitless wishes full,'Tis all day troublesome, and all night dull.Who wed with fools, indeed, lead happy lives;Fools are the fittest, finest things for wives:Yet old men profit bring, as fools bring ease,And both make youth and wit much better please.[Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:[26]Knights of the post were hired witnesses and men of straw who made a trade of becoming bail. They hung about the various inns of court so as to be available at a moment's notice. InHudibraswe read:"Retain all sorts of witnessesThat ply i' the Temples under trees,Or walk the Round with Knights o' th' PostsAbout the crossed-legged Knights their hosts."[27]In Covent Garden.[28]A courtesan.[29]A famous ordinary, which stood on the site of Drummond's bank at Charing Cross, frequently alluded to by writers of the period.[30]Refuse.[31]The fate, according to an old proverb, of those who die maids.[32]Hysterics.[33]A well-known prison near the west end of Westminster Abbey, where political prisoners were confined.[34]An old superstitious practice. Pepys makes mention of pigeons being placed at the feet of Catherine of Braganza, Charles II.'s queen, when she was dangerously ill.
[26]Knights of the post were hired witnesses and men of straw who made a trade of becoming bail. They hung about the various inns of court so as to be available at a moment's notice. InHudibraswe read:"Retain all sorts of witnessesThat ply i' the Temples under trees,Or walk the Round with Knights o' th' PostsAbout the crossed-legged Knights their hosts."
[26]Knights of the post were hired witnesses and men of straw who made a trade of becoming bail. They hung about the various inns of court so as to be available at a moment's notice. InHudibraswe read:
"Retain all sorts of witnessesThat ply i' the Temples under trees,Or walk the Round with Knights o' th' PostsAbout the crossed-legged Knights their hosts."
"Retain all sorts of witnessesThat ply i' the Temples under trees,Or walk the Round with Knights o' th' PostsAbout the crossed-legged Knights their hosts."
[27]In Covent Garden.
[27]In Covent Garden.
[28]A courtesan.
[28]A courtesan.
[29]A famous ordinary, which stood on the site of Drummond's bank at Charing Cross, frequently alluded to by writers of the period.
[29]A famous ordinary, which stood on the site of Drummond's bank at Charing Cross, frequently alluded to by writers of the period.
[30]Refuse.
[30]Refuse.
[31]The fate, according to an old proverb, of those who die maids.
[31]The fate, according to an old proverb, of those who die maids.
[32]Hysterics.
[32]Hysterics.
[33]A well-known prison near the west end of Westminster Abbey, where political prisoners were confined.
[33]A well-known prison near the west end of Westminster Abbey, where political prisoners were confined.
[34]An old superstitious practice. Pepys makes mention of pigeons being placed at the feet of Catherine of Braganza, Charles II.'s queen, when she was dangerously ill.
[34]An old superstitious practice. Pepys makes mention of pigeons being placed at the feet of Catherine of Braganza, Charles II.'s queen, when she was dangerously ill.
EnterSirJolly Jumble,Beaugard,Courtine,andFourbin.
Cour.Sir Jolly is the glory of the age.Sir Jol.Nay, now, sir, you honour me too far.Beau.He's the delight of the young, and wonder of the old.Sir Jol.I swear, gentlemen, you make me blush.Cour.He deserves a statue of gold, at the charge of the kingdom.Sir Jol.Out upon't, fie for shame! I protest I'll leave your company if you talk so. But faith they were pure whores, daintily dutiful strumpets: ha! uddsbud, they'd—have stripped for t'other bottle.Beau.Truly, Sir Jolly, you are a man of very extraordinary discipline: I never saw whores under better command in my life.Sir Jol.Pish, that's nothing, man, nothing; I can send for forty better when I please; doxies that will skip, strip, leap, trip, and do anything in the world, anything, old soul!Cour.Dear, dear Sir Jolly, where and when?Sir Jol.Odd! as simply as I stand here, her father was a knight.Beau.Indeed, Sir Jolly! a knight, say you?Sir Jol.Ay, but a little decayed: I'll assure you she's a very good gentlewoman born.Cour.Ay, and a very good gentlewoman bred too.Sir Jol.Ay, and so she is.Beau.But, Sir Jolly, how goes my business forward? when shall I have a view of the quarry I am to fly at?Sir Jol.Alas-a-day, not so hasty; soft and fair, I beseech you. Ah, my little son of thunder, if thou hadst her in thy arms now between a pair of sheets, and I under the bed to see fair play, boy; gemini! what would become of me? what would become of me? there would be doings! O lawd, I under the bed!Beau.Or behind the hangings, Sir Jolly, would not that do as well?Sir Jol.Ah no, under the bed against the world, and then it would be very dark, ha!Beau.Dark to choose?Sir Jol.No, but a little light would do well; a small glimmering lamp, just enough for me to steal a peep by; oh, lamentable! oh, lamentable! I won't speak a word more! there would be a trick! O rare! you friend, O rare! Odds-so, not a word more, odds-so, yonder comes the monster that must be the cuckold-elect; step, step aside and observe him; if I should be seen in your company, 'twould spoil all.
Cour.Sir Jolly is the glory of the age.
Sir Jol.Nay, now, sir, you honour me too far.
Beau.He's the delight of the young, and wonder of the old.
Sir Jol.I swear, gentlemen, you make me blush.
Cour.He deserves a statue of gold, at the charge of the kingdom.
Sir Jol.Out upon't, fie for shame! I protest I'll leave your company if you talk so. But faith they were pure whores, daintily dutiful strumpets: ha! uddsbud, they'd—have stripped for t'other bottle.
Beau.Truly, Sir Jolly, you are a man of very extraordinary discipline: I never saw whores under better command in my life.
Sir Jol.Pish, that's nothing, man, nothing; I can send for forty better when I please; doxies that will skip, strip, leap, trip, and do anything in the world, anything, old soul!
Cour.Dear, dear Sir Jolly, where and when?
Sir Jol.Odd! as simply as I stand here, her father was a knight.
Beau.Indeed, Sir Jolly! a knight, say you?
Sir Jol.Ay, but a little decayed: I'll assure you she's a very good gentlewoman born.
Cour.Ay, and a very good gentlewoman bred too.
Sir Jol.Ay, and so she is.
Beau.But, Sir Jolly, how goes my business forward? when shall I have a view of the quarry I am to fly at?
Sir Jol.Alas-a-day, not so hasty; soft and fair, I beseech you. Ah, my little son of thunder, if thou hadst her in thy arms now between a pair of sheets, and I under the bed to see fair play, boy; gemini! what would become of me? what would become of me? there would be doings! O lawd, I under the bed!
Beau.Or behind the hangings, Sir Jolly, would not that do as well?
Sir Jol.Ah no, under the bed against the world, and then it would be very dark, ha!
Beau.Dark to choose?
Sir Jol.No, but a little light would do well; a small glimmering lamp, just enough for me to steal a peep by; oh, lamentable! oh, lamentable! I won't speak a word more! there would be a trick! O rare! you friend, O rare! Odds-so, not a word more, odds-so, yonder comes the monster that must be the cuckold-elect; step, step aside and observe him; if I should be seen in your company, 'twould spoil all.
[ExeuntSirJollyandCourtine.
Beau.For my part, I'll stand the meeting of him; one way to promote a good understanding with a wife, is first to get acquainted with her husband.[Retires.
Beau.For my part, I'll stand the meeting of him; one way to promote a good understanding with a wife, is first to get acquainted with her husband.[Retires.
EnterSirDavy Dunce.
Sir Dav.Well, of all blessings, a discreet wife is the greatest that can light upon a man of years: had I been married to anything but an angel now, what a beast had I been by this time! well, I am thehappiest old fool! 'tis a horrid age that we live in, so that an honest man can keep nothing to himself. If you have a good estate, every covetous rogue is longing for't (truly I love a good estate dearly myself); if you have a handsome wife, every smooth-faced coxcomb will be combing and cocking[35]at her: flesh-flies are not so troublesome to the shambles as those sort of insects are to the boxes in the play-house. But virtue is a great blessing, an unvaluable treasure: to tell me herself that a villain had tempted her, and give me the very picture, the enchantment that he sent to bewitch her! it strikes me dumb with admiration. Here's the villain in effigy. [Pulls out thepicture.] Odd! a very handsome fellow, a dangerous rogue, I'll warrant him: such fellows as these now should be fettered like unruly colts, that they might not leap into other men's pastures. Here's a nose now, I could find it in my heart to cut it off. Damned dog, to dare to presume to make a cuckold of a knight!—bless us! what will this world come to? Well, poor Sir Davy, down, down on thy knees, and thank thy stars for this deliverance.Beau.'Sdeath! what's that I see? sure 'tis the very picture which I sent by Sir Jolly; if so, by this light, I am damnably jilted.Sir Dav.But now if—Beau.Surely he does not see us yet.Four.See you, sir! why he has but one eye, and we are on his blind side; I'll dumb-found him.[Strikes him on the shoulder.Sir Dav.Who the devil's this? Sir, sir, sir, who are you, sir?Beau.Ay, ay, 'tis the same; now a pox of all amorous adventures! 'sdeath, I'll go beat the impertinent pimp that drew me into this fooling.Sir Dav.Sir, methinks you are very curious.Beau.Sir, perhaps I have an extraordinary reason to be so.Sir Dav.And perhaps, sir, I care not for you, nor your reasons neither.Beau.Sir, if you are at leisure, I would beg the honour to speak with you.Sir Dav.With me, sir? what's your business with me?Beau.I would not willingly be troublesome, though it may be I am so at this time.Sir Dav.It may be so too, sir.Beau.But to be known to so worthy a person as you are, would be so great an honour, so extraordinary a happiness, that I could not avoid taking this opportunity of tendering you my service.Sir Dav.[Aside.] Smooth rogue! who the devil is this fellow? But, sir, you were pleased to nominate business, sir; I desire with what speed you can to know your business, sir, that I may go about my business.Beau.Sir, if I might with good manners, I should be glad to inform myself whose picture that is which you have in your hand; methinks it is a very fine painting.Sir Dav.Picture, friend, picture! sir, 'tis a resemblance of a very impudent fellow; they call him Captain Beaugard, forsooth, but he is in short a rake-hell, a poor, lousy, beggarly, disbanded devil; do you know him, friend?Beau.I think I have heard of such a vagabond: the truth on't is, he is a very impudent fellow.Sir Dav.Ay, a damned rogue.Beau.Oh, a notorious scoundrel.Sir Dav.I expect to hear he's hanged by next sessions.Beau.The truth on't is, he has deserved it long ago. But did you ever see him, Sir Davy?Sir Dav.Sir!—does he know me?[Aside.Beau.Because I fancy that miniature is very like him. Pray, sir, whence had it you?Sir Dav.Had it, friend? had it? whence had it I? [Aside.] Bless us! [Compares the picture withBeaugard'sface.] what have I done now! this is the very traitor himself; if he should be desperate now, and put his sword in my guts!—slitting my nose will be as bad as that, I have but one eye left neither, and may be—Oh, but this is the King's Court; odd, that's well remembered; he dares not but be civil here. I'll try to out-huff him. Whence had it you?Beau.Ay, sir, whence had it you? that's English in my country, sir.Sir Dav.Go, sir, you are a rascal.Beau.How!Sir Dav.Sir, I say you are a rascal, a very impudent rascal; nay, I'll prove you to be a rascal, if you go to that—Beau.Sir, I am a gentleman and a soldier.Sir Dav.So much the worse; soldiers have been cuckold-makers from the beginning: sir, I care not what you are; for aught I know you may be a—come, sir, did I never see you? Answer me to that; did I never see you? for aught I know you may be a Jesuit; there were more in the last army beside you.Beau.Of your acquaintance, and be hanged!Sir Dav.Yes, to my knowledge there were several at Hounslow-heath, disguised in dirty petticoats, and cried brandy. I knew a sergeant of foot that was familiar with one of them all night in a ditch, and fancied him a woman; but the devil is powerful.Beau.In short, you worthy villain of worship, that picture is mine, and I must have it, or I shall take an opportunity to kick your worship most inhumanly.Sir Dav.Kick, sir!Beau.Ay, sir, kick; 'tis a recreation I can show you.Sir Dav.Sir, I am a free-born subject of England, and there are laws, look you, there are laws; so I say you are a rascal again, and now how will you help yourself, poor fool?Beau.Hark you, friend, have not you a wife?Sir Dav.I have a lady, sir—oh, and she's mightily taken with this picture of yours; she was so mightily proud of it, she could not forbear showing it me, and telling too who it was sent it her.Beau.And has she been long a jilt? has she practised the trade for any time?Sir Dav.Trade! humph, what trade? what trade, friend?Beau.Why the trade of whore and no whore, caterwauling in jest, putting out Christian colours, when she's a Turk under deck. A curse upon all honest women in the flesh, that are whores in the spirit!Sir Dav.Poor devil, how he rails! ha, ha, ha! Look you, sweet soul, as I told you before, there are laws, there are laws, but those are things not worthy your consideration: beauty's your business. But, dear vagabond, trouble thyself no further about my spouse; let my doxy rest in peace, she's meat for thy master, old boy; I have my belly-full of her every night.Beau.Sir, I wish all your noble family hanged from the bottom of my heart.Sir Dav.Moreover, Captain Swash, I must tell you my wife is a honest woman, of a virtuous disposition, one that I have loved from her infancy, and she deserves it by her faithful dealing in this affair, for that she has discovered loyally to me the treacherous designs laid against her chastity, and my honour.Beau.By this light, the beast weeps![Aside.Sir Dav.Truly I cannot but weep for joy, to think how happy I am in a sincere, faithful, and lovingyoke-fellow. She charged me too to tell you into the bargain, that she is sufficiently satisfied of the most secret wishes of your heart.Beau.I'm glad on't.Sir Dav.And that 'tis her desire that you would trouble yourself no more about the matter.Beau.With all my heart.Sir Dav.But henceforward behave yourself with such discretion as becomes a gentleman.Beau.Oh, to be sure, most exactly!Sir Dav.And let her alone to make the best use of those innocent freedoms I allow her, without putting her reputation in hazard.Beau.As how, I beseech you?Sir Dav.By your impertinent and unseasonable address.Beau.And this news you bring me by a particular commission from your sweet lady?Sir Dav.Yea, friend, I do; and she hopes you'll be sensible, dear heart, of her good meaning by it: these were her very words, I neither add nor diminish, for plain-dealing is my mistress's friend.Beau.Then all the curses I shall think on this twelvemonth light on her, and as many more on the next fool that gives credit to the sex!Sir Dav.Well, certainly I am the happiest toad! How melancholy the monkey stands now! Poor pug, hast thou lost her?Beau.To be so sordid a jilt, to betray me to such a beast as that! Can she have any good thoughts of such a swine? Damn her, had she abused me handsomely it had never vexed me.Sir Dav.Now, sir, with your permission I'll take my leave.Beau.Sir, if you were gone to the devil I should think you very well disposed of.Sir Dav.If you have any letter, or other commendation to the lady that was so charmed with your resemblance there, it shall be very faithfully conveyed by—Beau.Fool!Sir Dav.Your humble servant. Sir, I'm gone; I shall disturb you no further; your most humble servant, sir. [Exit.Beau.Now poverty, plague, pox, and prison fall thick upon the head of thee!—Fourbin!Four.Sir!Beau.Thou hast been an extraordinary rogue in thy time.Four.I hope I have lost nothing in your honour's service, sir.Beau.Find out some way to revenge me on this old rascal, and if I do not make thee a gentleman—Four.That you have been pleased to do long ago, I thank you; for I am sure you have not left me one shilling in my pocket these two months.Beau.Here, here's for thee to revel withal.[Gives money.Four.Will your honour please to have his throat cut?Beau.With all my heart.Four.Or would you have him decently hanged at his own door, and then give out to the world he did it himself?Beau.That would do very well.Four.Or I think (to proceed with more safety) a good stale jakes[36]were a very pretty expedient.Beau.Excellent, excellent, Fourbin!Four.Leave matters to my discretion, and if I do not—Beau.I know thou wilt; go, go about it, prosper, and be famous. [ExitFourbin.] Now ere I dare venture to meet Courtine again, will I goby myself, rail for an hour or two, and then be good company.[Exit.
Sir Dav.Well, of all blessings, a discreet wife is the greatest that can light upon a man of years: had I been married to anything but an angel now, what a beast had I been by this time! well, I am thehappiest old fool! 'tis a horrid age that we live in, so that an honest man can keep nothing to himself. If you have a good estate, every covetous rogue is longing for't (truly I love a good estate dearly myself); if you have a handsome wife, every smooth-faced coxcomb will be combing and cocking[35]at her: flesh-flies are not so troublesome to the shambles as those sort of insects are to the boxes in the play-house. But virtue is a great blessing, an unvaluable treasure: to tell me herself that a villain had tempted her, and give me the very picture, the enchantment that he sent to bewitch her! it strikes me dumb with admiration. Here's the villain in effigy. [Pulls out thepicture.] Odd! a very handsome fellow, a dangerous rogue, I'll warrant him: such fellows as these now should be fettered like unruly colts, that they might not leap into other men's pastures. Here's a nose now, I could find it in my heart to cut it off. Damned dog, to dare to presume to make a cuckold of a knight!—bless us! what will this world come to? Well, poor Sir Davy, down, down on thy knees, and thank thy stars for this deliverance.
Beau.'Sdeath! what's that I see? sure 'tis the very picture which I sent by Sir Jolly; if so, by this light, I am damnably jilted.
Sir Dav.But now if—
Beau.Surely he does not see us yet.
Four.See you, sir! why he has but one eye, and we are on his blind side; I'll dumb-found him.[Strikes him on the shoulder.
Sir Dav.Who the devil's this? Sir, sir, sir, who are you, sir?
Beau.Ay, ay, 'tis the same; now a pox of all amorous adventures! 'sdeath, I'll go beat the impertinent pimp that drew me into this fooling.
Sir Dav.Sir, methinks you are very curious.
Beau.Sir, perhaps I have an extraordinary reason to be so.
Sir Dav.And perhaps, sir, I care not for you, nor your reasons neither.
Beau.Sir, if you are at leisure, I would beg the honour to speak with you.
Sir Dav.With me, sir? what's your business with me?
Beau.I would not willingly be troublesome, though it may be I am so at this time.
Sir Dav.It may be so too, sir.
Beau.But to be known to so worthy a person as you are, would be so great an honour, so extraordinary a happiness, that I could not avoid taking this opportunity of tendering you my service.
Sir Dav.[Aside.] Smooth rogue! who the devil is this fellow? But, sir, you were pleased to nominate business, sir; I desire with what speed you can to know your business, sir, that I may go about my business.
Beau.Sir, if I might with good manners, I should be glad to inform myself whose picture that is which you have in your hand; methinks it is a very fine painting.
Sir Dav.Picture, friend, picture! sir, 'tis a resemblance of a very impudent fellow; they call him Captain Beaugard, forsooth, but he is in short a rake-hell, a poor, lousy, beggarly, disbanded devil; do you know him, friend?
Beau.I think I have heard of such a vagabond: the truth on't is, he is a very impudent fellow.
Sir Dav.Ay, a damned rogue.
Beau.Oh, a notorious scoundrel.
Sir Dav.I expect to hear he's hanged by next sessions.
Beau.The truth on't is, he has deserved it long ago. But did you ever see him, Sir Davy?
Sir Dav.Sir!—does he know me?[Aside.
Beau.Because I fancy that miniature is very like him. Pray, sir, whence had it you?
Sir Dav.Had it, friend? had it? whence had it I? [Aside.] Bless us! [Compares the picture withBeaugard'sface.] what have I done now! this is the very traitor himself; if he should be desperate now, and put his sword in my guts!—slitting my nose will be as bad as that, I have but one eye left neither, and may be—Oh, but this is the King's Court; odd, that's well remembered; he dares not but be civil here. I'll try to out-huff him. Whence had it you?
Beau.Ay, sir, whence had it you? that's English in my country, sir.
Sir Dav.Go, sir, you are a rascal.
Beau.How!
Sir Dav.Sir, I say you are a rascal, a very impudent rascal; nay, I'll prove you to be a rascal, if you go to that—
Beau.Sir, I am a gentleman and a soldier.
Sir Dav.So much the worse; soldiers have been cuckold-makers from the beginning: sir, I care not what you are; for aught I know you may be a—come, sir, did I never see you? Answer me to that; did I never see you? for aught I know you may be a Jesuit; there were more in the last army beside you.
Beau.Of your acquaintance, and be hanged!
Sir Dav.Yes, to my knowledge there were several at Hounslow-heath, disguised in dirty petticoats, and cried brandy. I knew a sergeant of foot that was familiar with one of them all night in a ditch, and fancied him a woman; but the devil is powerful.
Beau.In short, you worthy villain of worship, that picture is mine, and I must have it, or I shall take an opportunity to kick your worship most inhumanly.
Sir Dav.Kick, sir!
Beau.Ay, sir, kick; 'tis a recreation I can show you.
Sir Dav.Sir, I am a free-born subject of England, and there are laws, look you, there are laws; so I say you are a rascal again, and now how will you help yourself, poor fool?
Beau.Hark you, friend, have not you a wife?
Sir Dav.I have a lady, sir—oh, and she's mightily taken with this picture of yours; she was so mightily proud of it, she could not forbear showing it me, and telling too who it was sent it her.
Beau.And has she been long a jilt? has she practised the trade for any time?
Sir Dav.Trade! humph, what trade? what trade, friend?
Beau.Why the trade of whore and no whore, caterwauling in jest, putting out Christian colours, when she's a Turk under deck. A curse upon all honest women in the flesh, that are whores in the spirit!
Sir Dav.Poor devil, how he rails! ha, ha, ha! Look you, sweet soul, as I told you before, there are laws, there are laws, but those are things not worthy your consideration: beauty's your business. But, dear vagabond, trouble thyself no further about my spouse; let my doxy rest in peace, she's meat for thy master, old boy; I have my belly-full of her every night.
Beau.Sir, I wish all your noble family hanged from the bottom of my heart.
Sir Dav.Moreover, Captain Swash, I must tell you my wife is a honest woman, of a virtuous disposition, one that I have loved from her infancy, and she deserves it by her faithful dealing in this affair, for that she has discovered loyally to me the treacherous designs laid against her chastity, and my honour.
Beau.By this light, the beast weeps![Aside.
Sir Dav.Truly I cannot but weep for joy, to think how happy I am in a sincere, faithful, and lovingyoke-fellow. She charged me too to tell you into the bargain, that she is sufficiently satisfied of the most secret wishes of your heart.
Beau.I'm glad on't.
Sir Dav.And that 'tis her desire that you would trouble yourself no more about the matter.
Beau.With all my heart.
Sir Dav.But henceforward behave yourself with such discretion as becomes a gentleman.
Beau.Oh, to be sure, most exactly!
Sir Dav.And let her alone to make the best use of those innocent freedoms I allow her, without putting her reputation in hazard.
Beau.As how, I beseech you?
Sir Dav.By your impertinent and unseasonable address.
Beau.And this news you bring me by a particular commission from your sweet lady?
Sir Dav.Yea, friend, I do; and she hopes you'll be sensible, dear heart, of her good meaning by it: these were her very words, I neither add nor diminish, for plain-dealing is my mistress's friend.
Beau.Then all the curses I shall think on this twelvemonth light on her, and as many more on the next fool that gives credit to the sex!
Sir Dav.Well, certainly I am the happiest toad! How melancholy the monkey stands now! Poor pug, hast thou lost her?
Beau.To be so sordid a jilt, to betray me to such a beast as that! Can she have any good thoughts of such a swine? Damn her, had she abused me handsomely it had never vexed me.
Sir Dav.Now, sir, with your permission I'll take my leave.
Beau.Sir, if you were gone to the devil I should think you very well disposed of.
Sir Dav.If you have any letter, or other commendation to the lady that was so charmed with your resemblance there, it shall be very faithfully conveyed by—
Beau.Fool!
Sir Dav.Your humble servant. Sir, I'm gone; I shall disturb you no further; your most humble servant, sir. [Exit.
Beau.Now poverty, plague, pox, and prison fall thick upon the head of thee!—Fourbin!
Four.Sir!
Beau.Thou hast been an extraordinary rogue in thy time.
Four.I hope I have lost nothing in your honour's service, sir.
Beau.Find out some way to revenge me on this old rascal, and if I do not make thee a gentleman—
Four.That you have been pleased to do long ago, I thank you; for I am sure you have not left me one shilling in my pocket these two months.
Beau.Here, here's for thee to revel withal.[Gives money.
Four.Will your honour please to have his throat cut?
Beau.With all my heart.
Four.Or would you have him decently hanged at his own door, and then give out to the world he did it himself?
Beau.That would do very well.
Four.Or I think (to proceed with more safety) a good stale jakes[36]were a very pretty expedient.
Beau.Excellent, excellent, Fourbin!
Four.Leave matters to my discretion, and if I do not—
Beau.I know thou wilt; go, go about it, prosper, and be famous. [ExitFourbin.] Now ere I dare venture to meet Courtine again, will I goby myself, rail for an hour or two, and then be good company.[Exit.
EnterCourtineandSylvia.
Sylv.Take my word, sir, you had better give this business over. I tell you, there's nothing in the world turns my stomach so much as the man, that man that makes love to me. I never saw one of your sex in my life make love, but he looked so like an ass all the while, that I blushed for him.Cour.I am afraid your ladyship then is one of those dangerous creatures they call she-wits, who are always so mightily taken with admiring themselves that nothing else is worth their notice.Sylv.Oh, who can be so dull, not to be ravished with that roisterous mien of yours, that ruffling air in your gait, that seems to cry where'er you go, "Make room, here comes the captain!" that face which bids defiance to the weather? Bless us! if I were a poor farmer's wife in the country now, and you wanted quarters, how would it fright me! But as I am young, not very ugly, and one you never saw before, how lovingly it looks upon me!Cour.Who can forbear to sigh, look pale, and languish, where beauty and wit unite both their forces to enslave a heart so tractable as mine is? First, for that modish swim of your body, the victorious motion of your arms and head, the toss of your fan, the glancing of the eyes—bless us! if I were a dainty fine-dressed coxcomb, with a great estate, and a little or no wit, vanity in abundance and good for nothing, how would they melt and soften me! but as I am a scandalous honest rascal, not fool enough to be your sport, nor rich enough to be your prey, how gloatingly they look upon me!Sylv.Alas, alas! what pity 'tis your honesty should ever do you hurt, or your wit spoil your preferment!Cour.Just as much, fair lady, as that your beauty should make you be envied at, or your virtue provoke scandal.Sylv.Well, the more I look, the more I'm in love with you.Cour.The more I look, the more I am out of love with you.Sylv.How my heart swells when I see you!Cour.How my stomach rises when I am near you!Sylv.Nay, then let's bargain.Cour.With all my heart; what?Sylv.Not to fall in love with each other; I assure you, Monsieur Captain.Cour.But to hate one another constantly and cordially.Sylv.Always when you are drunk, I desire you to talk scandalously of me.Cour.Ay, and when I am sober too; in return whereof, whene'er you see a coquette of your acquaintance, and I chance to be named, be sure you spit at the filthy remembrance, and rail at me as if you loved me.Sylv.In the next place, whene'er we meet in the Mall, I desire you to "Humph!" put out your tongue, make ugly mouths, laugh aloud, and look back at me.Cour.Which, if I chance to do, be sure at next turning to pick up some tawdry fluttering fop or another.Sylv.That I made acquaintance withal at the music-meeting?Cour.Right, just such another spark to saunter by your side, with his hat under his arm.Sylv.Hearkening to all the bitter things I can say to be revenged.Cour.Whilst the dull rogue dare not so much as grin to oblige you, for fear of being beaten for it, when he is out of his waiting.Sylv.Counterfeit your letters from me.Cour.And you, to be even with me for the scandal, publish to all the world I offered to marry you.Sylv.O hideous marriage!Cour.Horrid, horrid marriage!Sylv.Name, name no more of it!Cour.At that sad word let's part.Sylv.Let's wish all men decrepit, dull, and silly.Cour.And every woman old and ugly.Sylv.Adieu!Cour.Farewell!
Sylv.Take my word, sir, you had better give this business over. I tell you, there's nothing in the world turns my stomach so much as the man, that man that makes love to me. I never saw one of your sex in my life make love, but he looked so like an ass all the while, that I blushed for him.
Cour.I am afraid your ladyship then is one of those dangerous creatures they call she-wits, who are always so mightily taken with admiring themselves that nothing else is worth their notice.
Sylv.Oh, who can be so dull, not to be ravished with that roisterous mien of yours, that ruffling air in your gait, that seems to cry where'er you go, "Make room, here comes the captain!" that face which bids defiance to the weather? Bless us! if I were a poor farmer's wife in the country now, and you wanted quarters, how would it fright me! But as I am young, not very ugly, and one you never saw before, how lovingly it looks upon me!
Cour.Who can forbear to sigh, look pale, and languish, where beauty and wit unite both their forces to enslave a heart so tractable as mine is? First, for that modish swim of your body, the victorious motion of your arms and head, the toss of your fan, the glancing of the eyes—bless us! if I were a dainty fine-dressed coxcomb, with a great estate, and a little or no wit, vanity in abundance and good for nothing, how would they melt and soften me! but as I am a scandalous honest rascal, not fool enough to be your sport, nor rich enough to be your prey, how gloatingly they look upon me!
Sylv.Alas, alas! what pity 'tis your honesty should ever do you hurt, or your wit spoil your preferment!
Cour.Just as much, fair lady, as that your beauty should make you be envied at, or your virtue provoke scandal.
Sylv.Well, the more I look, the more I'm in love with you.
Cour.The more I look, the more I am out of love with you.
Sylv.How my heart swells when I see you!
Cour.How my stomach rises when I am near you!
Sylv.Nay, then let's bargain.
Cour.With all my heart; what?
Sylv.Not to fall in love with each other; I assure you, Monsieur Captain.
Cour.But to hate one another constantly and cordially.
Sylv.Always when you are drunk, I desire you to talk scandalously of me.
Cour.Ay, and when I am sober too; in return whereof, whene'er you see a coquette of your acquaintance, and I chance to be named, be sure you spit at the filthy remembrance, and rail at me as if you loved me.
Sylv.In the next place, whene'er we meet in the Mall, I desire you to "Humph!" put out your tongue, make ugly mouths, laugh aloud, and look back at me.
Cour.Which, if I chance to do, be sure at next turning to pick up some tawdry fluttering fop or another.
Sylv.That I made acquaintance withal at the music-meeting?
Cour.Right, just such another spark to saunter by your side, with his hat under his arm.
Sylv.Hearkening to all the bitter things I can say to be revenged.
Cour.Whilst the dull rogue dare not so much as grin to oblige you, for fear of being beaten for it, when he is out of his waiting.
Sylv.Counterfeit your letters from me.
Cour.And you, to be even with me for the scandal, publish to all the world I offered to marry you.
Sylv.O hideous marriage!
Cour.Horrid, horrid marriage!
Sylv.Name, name no more of it!
Cour.At that sad word let's part.
Sylv.Let's wish all men decrepit, dull, and silly.
Cour.And every woman old and ugly.
Sylv.Adieu!
Cour.Farewell!
EnterFrisk,a young fellow affectedly dressed, severalothers with him.
Sylv.Ah me, Mr. Frisk!Frisk.Mademoiselle Sylvia! sincerely as I hope to be saved, the devil take me—damme, madam, who's that?Sylv.Ha, ha, ha, hea![Exit withFrisk.Cour.True to thy failings always, woman! how naturally is the sex fond of a rogue! What a monster was that for a woman to delight in! Now must I love her still, though I know I'm a blockhead for't, and she'll use me like a blockhead too, if I don't prevent her. What's to be done? I'll have three whores a day, to keep love out of my head.
Sylv.Ah me, Mr. Frisk!
Frisk.Mademoiselle Sylvia! sincerely as I hope to be saved, the devil take me—damme, madam, who's that?
Sylv.Ha, ha, ha, hea![Exit withFrisk.
Cour.True to thy failings always, woman! how naturally is the sex fond of a rogue! What a monster was that for a woman to delight in! Now must I love her still, though I know I'm a blockhead for't, and she'll use me like a blockhead too, if I don't prevent her. What's to be done? I'll have three whores a day, to keep love out of my head.
Re-enterBeaugard.
Beaugard, well met again; how go matters? handsomely?Beau.Oh, very handsomely! had you but seen how handsomely I was used just now, you would swear so. I have heard thee rail in my time; would thou wouldst exercise thy talent a little at present!Cour.At what?Beau.Why, canst thou ever want a subject? rail at thyself, rail at me—I deserve to be railed at. Seethere, what thinkest thou of that engine, that moving lump of filthiness, miscalled a man?
Beaugard, well met again; how go matters? handsomely?
Beau.Oh, very handsomely! had you but seen how handsomely I was used just now, you would swear so. I have heard thee rail in my time; would thou wouldst exercise thy talent a little at present!
Cour.At what?
Beau.Why, canst thou ever want a subject? rail at thyself, rail at me—I deserve to be railed at. Seethere, what thinkest thou of that engine, that moving lump of filthiness, miscalled a man?
A clumsy fellow marches over the Stage, dressed likeanOfficer.
Cour.Curse on him for a rogue, I know him.Beau.So.Cour.The rascal was a retailer of ale but yesterday, and now he is an officer and be hanged; 'tis a dainty sight in a morning to see him with his toes turned in, drawing his legs after him, at the head of a hundred lusty fellows. Some honest gentleman or other stays now, because that dog had money to bribe some corrupt colonel withal.
Cour.Curse on him for a rogue, I know him.
Beau.So.
Cour.The rascal was a retailer of ale but yesterday, and now he is an officer and be hanged; 'tis a dainty sight in a morning to see him with his toes turned in, drawing his legs after him, at the head of a hundred lusty fellows. Some honest gentleman or other stays now, because that dog had money to bribe some corrupt colonel withal.
Enter another, gravely dressed.
Beau.There, there's another of my acquaintance; he was my father's footman not long since, and has pimped for me oftener than he prayed for himself; that good quality recommended him to a nobleman's service, which, together with flattering, fawning, lying, spying and informing, has raised him to an employment of trust and reputation, though the rogue can't write his name, nor read his neck-verse,[37]if he had occasion.Cour.'Tis as unreasonable to expect a man of sense should be preferred, as 'tis to think a hector can be stout, a priest religious, a fair woman chaste, or a pardoned rebel loyal.
Beau.There, there's another of my acquaintance; he was my father's footman not long since, and has pimped for me oftener than he prayed for himself; that good quality recommended him to a nobleman's service, which, together with flattering, fawning, lying, spying and informing, has raised him to an employment of trust and reputation, though the rogue can't write his name, nor read his neck-verse,[37]if he had occasion.
Cour.'Tis as unreasonable to expect a man of sense should be preferred, as 'tis to think a hector can be stout, a priest religious, a fair woman chaste, or a pardoned rebel loyal.
Enter two others, seeming earnestly in discourse.
Beau.That's seasonably thought on. Look there, observe but that fellow on the right hand, the rogue with the busiest face of the two; I'll tell thee his history.Cour.I hope hanging will be the end of his history, so well I like him at the first sight.Beau.He was born a vagabond, and no parish owned him: his father was as obscure as his mother public; everybody knew her, and nobody could guess at him.Cour.He comes of a very good family, Heaven be praised!Beau.The first thing he chose to rise by was rebellion; so a rebel he grew, and flourished a rebel; fought against his king, and helped to bring him to the block.Cour.And was he not religious too?Beau.Most devoutly! he could pray till he cried, and preach till he foamed; which excellent talent made him popular, and at last preferred him to be a worthy member of that never-to-be-forgotten Rump Parliament.Cour.Pray, sir, be uncovered at that, and remember it with reverence.Beau.In short, he was a committee-man, sequestrator and persecutor-general of a whole county, by which he got enough at the king's return to secure himself in the general pardon.Cour.Nauseous vermin! that such a swine, with the mark of rebellion in his forehead, should wallow in his luxury, whilst honest men are forgotten!Beau.Thus forgiven, thus raised, and made thus happy, the ungrateful slave disowns the hand that healed him, cherishes factions to affront his master, and once more would rebel against the head which so lately saved his from a pole.Cour.What a dreadful beard and swinging sword he wears!Beau.'Tis to keep his cowardice in countenance; the rascal will endure kicking most temperately for all that; I know five or six more of the same stamp,that never come abroad without terrible long spits by their sides, with which they will let you bore their own noses if you please. But let the villain be forgotten.Cour.His co-rogue I have some knowledge of; he's a tattered worm-eaten case-putter; some call him lawyer; one that takes it very ill he is not made a judge.Beau.Yes, and is always repining that men of parts are not regarded.Cour.He has been a great noise-maker in factious clubs these seven years, and now I suppose is courting that worshipful rascal, to make him recorder of some factious town.Beau.To teach tallow-chandlers and cheesemongers how far they may rebel against their king by virtue of Magna Charta.Cour.But, friend Beaugard, methinks thou art very splenetic of a sudden: how goes the affair of love forward? prosperously, ha?Beau.Oh, I assure you most triumphantly; just now, you must know, I am parted with the sweet, civil, enchanted lady's husband.Cour.Well, and what says the cuckold? is he very kind and good-natured, as cuckolds use to be?Beau.Why, he says, Courtine, in short, that I am a very silly fellow—and truly I am very apt to believe him—and that I have been jilted in this affair most unconscionably. A plague on all pimps, I say; a man's business never thrives so well as when he is his own solicitor.
Beau.That's seasonably thought on. Look there, observe but that fellow on the right hand, the rogue with the busiest face of the two; I'll tell thee his history.
Cour.I hope hanging will be the end of his history, so well I like him at the first sight.
Beau.He was born a vagabond, and no parish owned him: his father was as obscure as his mother public; everybody knew her, and nobody could guess at him.
Cour.He comes of a very good family, Heaven be praised!
Beau.The first thing he chose to rise by was rebellion; so a rebel he grew, and flourished a rebel; fought against his king, and helped to bring him to the block.
Cour.And was he not religious too?
Beau.Most devoutly! he could pray till he cried, and preach till he foamed; which excellent talent made him popular, and at last preferred him to be a worthy member of that never-to-be-forgotten Rump Parliament.
Cour.Pray, sir, be uncovered at that, and remember it with reverence.
Beau.In short, he was a committee-man, sequestrator and persecutor-general of a whole county, by which he got enough at the king's return to secure himself in the general pardon.
Cour.Nauseous vermin! that such a swine, with the mark of rebellion in his forehead, should wallow in his luxury, whilst honest men are forgotten!
Beau.Thus forgiven, thus raised, and made thus happy, the ungrateful slave disowns the hand that healed him, cherishes factions to affront his master, and once more would rebel against the head which so lately saved his from a pole.
Cour.What a dreadful beard and swinging sword he wears!
Beau.'Tis to keep his cowardice in countenance; the rascal will endure kicking most temperately for all that; I know five or six more of the same stamp,that never come abroad without terrible long spits by their sides, with which they will let you bore their own noses if you please. But let the villain be forgotten.
Cour.His co-rogue I have some knowledge of; he's a tattered worm-eaten case-putter; some call him lawyer; one that takes it very ill he is not made a judge.
Beau.Yes, and is always repining that men of parts are not regarded.
Cour.He has been a great noise-maker in factious clubs these seven years, and now I suppose is courting that worshipful rascal, to make him recorder of some factious town.
Beau.To teach tallow-chandlers and cheesemongers how far they may rebel against their king by virtue of Magna Charta.
Cour.But, friend Beaugard, methinks thou art very splenetic of a sudden: how goes the affair of love forward? prosperously, ha?
Beau.Oh, I assure you most triumphantly; just now, you must know, I am parted with the sweet, civil, enchanted lady's husband.
Cour.Well, and what says the cuckold? is he very kind and good-natured, as cuckolds use to be?
Beau.Why, he says, Courtine, in short, that I am a very silly fellow—and truly I am very apt to believe him—and that I have been jilted in this affair most unconscionably. A plague on all pimps, I say; a man's business never thrives so well as when he is his own solicitor.
EnterSirJolly Jumbleand aBoy.
Sir Jol.Hist, hist! Captain! Captain! Captain!—Boy.Boy.Sir.Sir Jol.Run and get two chairs[38]presently; besure you get two chairs, sirrah, do you hear? Here's luck, here's luck! now or never, captain; never if not now, captain! here's luck!Beau.Sir Jolly, no more adventures, sweet Sir Jolly; I am like to have a very fine time on't truly.Sir Jol.The best in the world, dear dog, the very best in the world; 'sbud, she's here hard by, man; stays on purpose for thee, finely disguised. The cuckold has lost her too; and nobody, knows anything of the matter but I, nobody but I; and I, you must know, I am I, ha! and I, you little toad, ha!Beau.You are a very fine gentleman.Sir Jol.The best-natured fellow in the world, I believe, of my years! Now does my heart so thump for fear this business should miscarry: why, I'll warrant thee the lady is here, man; she's all thy own; 'tis thy own fault if thou art not interra incognitawithin this half-hour: come along, pr'ythee come along; fie for shame! what, make a lady lose her longing! come along, I say, you—out upon't!Beau.Sir, your humble, I shan't stir.Sir Jol.What, not go?Beau.No, sir, no lady for me.Sir Jol.Not go! I should laugh at that, faith!Beau.No, I will assure you, not go, sir.Sir Jol.Away, you wag! you jest, you jest, you wag; not go, quoth-a?Beau.No, sir, not go, I tell you; what the devil would you have more?Sir Jol.Nothing, nothing, sir, but I am a gentleman.Beau.With all my heart.Sir Jol.And do you think then that I'll be used thus?Beau.Sir!Sir Jol.Take away my reputation, and take away my life: I shall be disgraced for ever.Beau.I have not wronged you, Sir Jolly.Sir Jol.Not wronged me! but you shall find you have wronged me, and wronged a sweet lady, and a fine lady—I shall never be trusted again! never have employment more! I shall die of the spleen.—Pr'ythee now be good-natured, pr'ythee be persuaded; odd, I'll give thee this ring, I'll give thee this watch, 'tis gold; I'll give thee anything in the world; go.Beau.Not one foot, sir.Sir Jol.Now that I durst but murder him!—Well, shall I fetch her to thee? what shall I do for thee?
Sir Jol.Hist, hist! Captain! Captain! Captain!—Boy.
Boy.Sir.
Sir Jol.Run and get two chairs[38]presently; besure you get two chairs, sirrah, do you hear? Here's luck, here's luck! now or never, captain; never if not now, captain! here's luck!
Beau.Sir Jolly, no more adventures, sweet Sir Jolly; I am like to have a very fine time on't truly.
Sir Jol.The best in the world, dear dog, the very best in the world; 'sbud, she's here hard by, man; stays on purpose for thee, finely disguised. The cuckold has lost her too; and nobody, knows anything of the matter but I, nobody but I; and I, you must know, I am I, ha! and I, you little toad, ha!
Beau.You are a very fine gentleman.
Sir Jol.The best-natured fellow in the world, I believe, of my years! Now does my heart so thump for fear this business should miscarry: why, I'll warrant thee the lady is here, man; she's all thy own; 'tis thy own fault if thou art not interra incognitawithin this half-hour: come along, pr'ythee come along; fie for shame! what, make a lady lose her longing! come along, I say, you—out upon't!
Beau.Sir, your humble, I shan't stir.
Sir Jol.What, not go?
Beau.No, sir, no lady for me.
Sir Jol.Not go! I should laugh at that, faith!
Beau.No, I will assure you, not go, sir.
Sir Jol.Away, you wag! you jest, you jest, you wag; not go, quoth-a?
Beau.No, sir, not go, I tell you; what the devil would you have more?
Sir Jol.Nothing, nothing, sir, but I am a gentleman.
Beau.With all my heart.
Sir Jol.And do you think then that I'll be used thus?
Beau.Sir!
Sir Jol.Take away my reputation, and take away my life: I shall be disgraced for ever.
Beau.I have not wronged you, Sir Jolly.
Sir Jol.Not wronged me! but you shall find you have wronged me, and wronged a sweet lady, and a fine lady—I shall never be trusted again! never have employment more! I shall die of the spleen.—Pr'ythee now be good-natured, pr'ythee be persuaded; odd, I'll give thee this ring, I'll give thee this watch, 'tis gold; I'll give thee anything in the world; go.
Beau.Not one foot, sir.
Sir Jol.Now that I durst but murder him!—Well, shall I fetch her to thee? what shall I do for thee?
EnterLadyDunce.
Odds fish! here she comes herself. Now, you ill-natured churl, now, you devil, look upon her; do but look upon her: what shall I say to her?Beau.E'en what you please, Sir Jolly.Sir Jol.'Tis a very strange monster this! Madam, this is the gentleman, that's he, though, as one may say, he's something bashful, but I'll tell him who you are. [Goes toBeaugard.] If thou art not more cruel than leopards, lions, tigers, wolves, or Tartars, don't break my heart, don't kill me; this unkindness of thine goes to the soul of me. [Goes toLadyDunce.] Madam, he says he's so amazed at your triumphant beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines from you.L. Dunce.What can be the meaning of all this?Sir Jol.Art thou then resolved to be remorseless? canst thou be insensible? hast thou eyes? hast thou a heart? hast thou anything thou shouldst have? Odd, I'll tickle thee! get you to her, you fool; get you to her, to her, to her, to her, ha, ha, ha!L. Dunce.Have you forgot me, Beaugard?Sir Jol.So now, to her again, I say! to her, to her, and be hanged! ah, rogue! ah, rogue! now, now,have at her; now have at her! There it goes; there it goes, hey, boy!L. Dunce.Methinks this face should not so much be altered, as to be nothing like what I once thought it, the object of your pleasure, and subject of your praises.Sir Jol.Cunning toad! wheedling jade! you shall see now how by degrees she'll draw him into the whirlpool of love: now he leers upon her, now he leers upon her. O law! there's eyes! there's eyes! I must pinch him by the calf of the leg.Beau.Madam, I must confess I do remember that I had once acquaintance with a face whose air and beauty much resembled yours; and, if I may trust my heart, you are called Clarinda.L. Dunce.Clarinda I was called, till my ill-fortune wedded me; now you may have heard of me by another title: your friend there, I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you.Beau.And are you then that kind enchanted fair one who was so passionately in love with my picture that you could not forbear betraying me to the beast your husband, and wrong the passion of a gentleman that languished for you, only to make your monster merry? Hark you, madam! had your fool been worth it, I had beaten him, and have a month's mind[39]to be exercising my parts that way upon your go-between, your male-bawd there.Sir Jol.Ah Lord! ah Lord! all's spoiled again, all's ruined; I shall be undone for ever! Why, what a devil is the matter now? what have I done? what sins have I committed? [Aside.L. Dunce.And are you that passionate adorer of our sex, who cannot live a week in London without loving? Are you the shark that sends your pictureup and down to longing ladies, longing for a pattern of your person?Beau.Yes, madam, when I receive so good hostages as these are—[Shows the gold]—that it shall be well used. Could you find nobody but me to play the fool withal?Sir Jol.Alack-a-day!L. Dunce.Could you pitch upon nobody but that wretched woman that has loved you too well to abuse you thus?Sir Jol.That ever I was born!Beau.Here, here, madam, I'll return you your dirt; I scorn your wages, as I do your service.L. Dunce.Fie for shame! what, refund? that is not like a soldier, to refund: keep, keep it to pay your sempstress withal.Sir Jol.His sempstress! who the devil is his sempstress? Odd, what would I give to know that now! [Aside.L. Dunce.There was a ring too, which I sent you this afternoon; if that fit not your finger, you may dispose of it some other way, where it may give no occasion of scandal, and you'll do well.Beau.A ring, madam?L. Dunce.A small trifle; I suppose Sir Davy delivered it to you, when he returned you your miniature.Beau.I beseech you, madam!—L. Dunce.Farewell, you traitor.Beau.As I hope to be saved, and upon the word of a gentleman—L. Dunce.Go, you are a false, ungrateful brute; and trouble me no more. [Exit.Beau.Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly.Sir Jol.Ah, thou rebel!Beau.Some advice, some advice, dear friend, ere I'm ruined.Sir Jol.Even two pennyworth of hemp for your honour's supper, that's all the remedy that I know.Beau.But pr'ythee hear a little reason.Sir Jol.No, sir, I ha' done; no more to be said, I ha' done; I am ashamed of you, I'll have no more to say to you; I'll never see your face again, good-b'w'ye.[Exit.Beau.Death and the devil! what have my stars been doing to-day? A ring! delivered by Sir Davy—what can that mean? Pox on her for a jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh at me a day or two longer. Hist, here comes her beast once more; I'll use him civilly, and try what discovery I can make.
Odds fish! here she comes herself. Now, you ill-natured churl, now, you devil, look upon her; do but look upon her: what shall I say to her?
Beau.E'en what you please, Sir Jolly.
Sir Jol.'Tis a very strange monster this! Madam, this is the gentleman, that's he, though, as one may say, he's something bashful, but I'll tell him who you are. [Goes toBeaugard.] If thou art not more cruel than leopards, lions, tigers, wolves, or Tartars, don't break my heart, don't kill me; this unkindness of thine goes to the soul of me. [Goes toLadyDunce.] Madam, he says he's so amazed at your triumphant beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines from you.
L. Dunce.What can be the meaning of all this?
Sir Jol.Art thou then resolved to be remorseless? canst thou be insensible? hast thou eyes? hast thou a heart? hast thou anything thou shouldst have? Odd, I'll tickle thee! get you to her, you fool; get you to her, to her, to her, to her, ha, ha, ha!
L. Dunce.Have you forgot me, Beaugard?
Sir Jol.So now, to her again, I say! to her, to her, and be hanged! ah, rogue! ah, rogue! now, now,have at her; now have at her! There it goes; there it goes, hey, boy!
L. Dunce.Methinks this face should not so much be altered, as to be nothing like what I once thought it, the object of your pleasure, and subject of your praises.
Sir Jol.Cunning toad! wheedling jade! you shall see now how by degrees she'll draw him into the whirlpool of love: now he leers upon her, now he leers upon her. O law! there's eyes! there's eyes! I must pinch him by the calf of the leg.
Beau.Madam, I must confess I do remember that I had once acquaintance with a face whose air and beauty much resembled yours; and, if I may trust my heart, you are called Clarinda.
L. Dunce.Clarinda I was called, till my ill-fortune wedded me; now you may have heard of me by another title: your friend there, I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you.
Beau.And are you then that kind enchanted fair one who was so passionately in love with my picture that you could not forbear betraying me to the beast your husband, and wrong the passion of a gentleman that languished for you, only to make your monster merry? Hark you, madam! had your fool been worth it, I had beaten him, and have a month's mind[39]to be exercising my parts that way upon your go-between, your male-bawd there.
Sir Jol.Ah Lord! ah Lord! all's spoiled again, all's ruined; I shall be undone for ever! Why, what a devil is the matter now? what have I done? what sins have I committed? [Aside.
L. Dunce.And are you that passionate adorer of our sex, who cannot live a week in London without loving? Are you the shark that sends your pictureup and down to longing ladies, longing for a pattern of your person?
Beau.Yes, madam, when I receive so good hostages as these are—[Shows the gold]—that it shall be well used. Could you find nobody but me to play the fool withal?
Sir Jol.Alack-a-day!
L. Dunce.Could you pitch upon nobody but that wretched woman that has loved you too well to abuse you thus?
Sir Jol.That ever I was born!
Beau.Here, here, madam, I'll return you your dirt; I scorn your wages, as I do your service.
L. Dunce.Fie for shame! what, refund? that is not like a soldier, to refund: keep, keep it to pay your sempstress withal.
Sir Jol.His sempstress! who the devil is his sempstress? Odd, what would I give to know that now! [Aside.
L. Dunce.There was a ring too, which I sent you this afternoon; if that fit not your finger, you may dispose of it some other way, where it may give no occasion of scandal, and you'll do well.
Beau.A ring, madam?
L. Dunce.A small trifle; I suppose Sir Davy delivered it to you, when he returned you your miniature.
Beau.I beseech you, madam!—
L. Dunce.Farewell, you traitor.
Beau.As I hope to be saved, and upon the word of a gentleman—
L. Dunce.Go, you are a false, ungrateful brute; and trouble me no more. [Exit.
Beau.Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly.
Sir Jol.Ah, thou rebel!
Beau.Some advice, some advice, dear friend, ere I'm ruined.
Sir Jol.Even two pennyworth of hemp for your honour's supper, that's all the remedy that I know.
Beau.But pr'ythee hear a little reason.
Sir Jol.No, sir, I ha' done; no more to be said, I ha' done; I am ashamed of you, I'll have no more to say to you; I'll never see your face again, good-b'w'ye.[Exit.
Beau.Death and the devil! what have my stars been doing to-day? A ring! delivered by Sir Davy—what can that mean? Pox on her for a jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh at me a day or two longer. Hist, here comes her beast once more; I'll use him civilly, and try what discovery I can make.
Re-enterSirDavy Dunce.
Sir Dav.Ha, ha, ha! here's the captain's jewel; very well: in troth, I had like to have forgotten it. Ha, ha, ha!—how damnable mad he'll be now, when I shall deliver him his ring again, ha, ha!—Poor dog, he'll hang himself at least, ha, ha, ha!—Faith, 'tis a very pretty stone, and finely set: humph! if I should keep it now?—I'll say I have lost it—no, I'll give it him again o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha!Beau.Sir Davy, I am heartily sorry—Sir Dav.O sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha!—What shall I say to him now to terrify him? [Aside.Beau.Me, sir!Sir Dav.Ay, you, sir, if your name be Captain Beaugard. [Aside.] How like a fool he looks already!Beau.What you please, sir.Sir Dav.Sir, I would speak a word with you, if you think fit.—What shall I do now to keep my countenance? [Aside.Beau.Can I be so happy, sir, as to be able to serve you in anything?Sir Dav.No, sir; ha, ha, ha! I have commands of service to you, sir. O Lord! ha, ha, ha!Beau.Me, sir!Sir Dav.Ay, sir! you, sir: but put on your hat, friend, put on your hat; be covered.Beau.Sir, will you please to sit down on this bank?Sir Dav.No, no, there's no need, no need; for all I have a young wife, I can stand upon my legs, sweetheart.Beau.Sir, I beseech you.Sir Dav.By no means; I think, friend, we had some hard words just now; 'twas about a paltry baggage; but she's a pretty baggage, and a witty baggage, and a baggage that—Beau.Sir, I am heartily ashamed of all misdemeanour on my side.Sir Dav.You do well; though are not you a damned whore-master, a devilish cuckold-making fellow? Here, here, do you see this? here's the ring you sent a-roguing; sir, do you think my wife wants anything that you can help her to? Why, I'll warrant this ring cost fifty pounds: what a prodigal fellow are you to throw away so much money! or didst thou steal it, old boy? I'll believe thou mayst be poor; I'll lend thee money upon't, if thou thinkest fit, at thirty in the hundred, because I love thee, ha, ha, ha!Beau.Sir, your humble servant. I am sorry 'twas not worth your lady's acceptance. [Aside.] Now what a dog am I!Sir Dav.I should have given it thee before, but, faith, I forgot it, though it was not my wife's fault in the least; for she says, as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy custom again, child. Ha, ha, ha!Beau.Then, sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made a convert of me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent behaviour towards her—Sir Dav.Very well, I shall do it.Beau.That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with myself, till I find some way how I may make her reparation.Sir Dav.Very good, ha, ha, ha!Beau.And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence again—Sir Dav.No, sir, you had best not; but proceed; ha, ha, ha!Beau.Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.Sir Dav.No more to be said: your servant; good b'w'ye.Beau.One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.Sir Dav.What's that?Beau.I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has given me has so wrought upon me—Sir Dav.Well, I will.Beau.That I esteem this jewel, not only as a wreck redeemed from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the utmost moment of my life.Sir Dav.With all my heart, I vow and swear.Beau.And that I long to convince her I am not the brute she might mistake me for.Sir Dav.Right. [Aside.] Well, this will make the purest sport.—Let me see; first you acknowledge yourself to be a very impudent fellow?Beau.I do so, sir.Sir Dav.And that you shall never be at rest till you have satisfied my lady?Beau.Right, sir.Sir Dav.Satisfied her! very good; ha, ha, ha! and that you will never play the fool any more? Be sure you keep your word, friend.Beau.Never, sir.Sir Dav.And that you will keep that ring for her sake, as long as you live, ha?Beau.To the day of my death, I'll assure you.Sir Dav.I protest that will be very kindly done. And that you long, mightily long to let her understand that you are another guess fellow than she may take you for?Beau.Exactly, sir, this is the sum and end of my desires.Sir Dav.Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your business, I'll warrant you. [Aside.] This will make the purest sport when I come home!—Well, your servant; remember, be sure you remember: your servant. [Exit.Beau.So, now I find a husband is a delicate instrument rightly made use of;—to make her old jealous coxcomb pimp for me himself! I think is as worthy an employment as such a noble consort can be put to.
Sir Dav.Ha, ha, ha! here's the captain's jewel; very well: in troth, I had like to have forgotten it. Ha, ha, ha!—how damnable mad he'll be now, when I shall deliver him his ring again, ha, ha!—Poor dog, he'll hang himself at least, ha, ha, ha!—Faith, 'tis a very pretty stone, and finely set: humph! if I should keep it now?—I'll say I have lost it—no, I'll give it him again o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha!
Beau.Sir Davy, I am heartily sorry—
Sir Dav.O sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha!—What shall I say to him now to terrify him? [Aside.
Beau.Me, sir!
Sir Dav.Ay, you, sir, if your name be Captain Beaugard. [Aside.] How like a fool he looks already!
Beau.What you please, sir.
Sir Dav.Sir, I would speak a word with you, if you think fit.—What shall I do now to keep my countenance? [Aside.
Beau.Can I be so happy, sir, as to be able to serve you in anything?
Sir Dav.No, sir; ha, ha, ha! I have commands of service to you, sir. O Lord! ha, ha, ha!
Beau.Me, sir!
Sir Dav.Ay, sir! you, sir: but put on your hat, friend, put on your hat; be covered.
Beau.Sir, will you please to sit down on this bank?
Sir Dav.No, no, there's no need, no need; for all I have a young wife, I can stand upon my legs, sweetheart.
Beau.Sir, I beseech you.
Sir Dav.By no means; I think, friend, we had some hard words just now; 'twas about a paltry baggage; but she's a pretty baggage, and a witty baggage, and a baggage that—
Beau.Sir, I am heartily ashamed of all misdemeanour on my side.
Sir Dav.You do well; though are not you a damned whore-master, a devilish cuckold-making fellow? Here, here, do you see this? here's the ring you sent a-roguing; sir, do you think my wife wants anything that you can help her to? Why, I'll warrant this ring cost fifty pounds: what a prodigal fellow are you to throw away so much money! or didst thou steal it, old boy? I'll believe thou mayst be poor; I'll lend thee money upon't, if thou thinkest fit, at thirty in the hundred, because I love thee, ha, ha, ha!
Beau.Sir, your humble servant. I am sorry 'twas not worth your lady's acceptance. [Aside.] Now what a dog am I!
Sir Dav.I should have given it thee before, but, faith, I forgot it, though it was not my wife's fault in the least; for she says, as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy custom again, child. Ha, ha, ha!
Beau.Then, sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made a convert of me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent behaviour towards her—
Sir Dav.Very well, I shall do it.
Beau.That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with myself, till I find some way how I may make her reparation.
Sir Dav.Very good, ha, ha, ha!
Beau.And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence again—
Sir Dav.No, sir, you had best not; but proceed; ha, ha, ha!
Beau.Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.
Sir Dav.No more to be said: your servant; good b'w'ye.
Beau.One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.
Sir Dav.What's that?
Beau.I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has given me has so wrought upon me—
Sir Dav.Well, I will.
Beau.That I esteem this jewel, not only as a wreck redeemed from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the utmost moment of my life.
Sir Dav.With all my heart, I vow and swear.
Beau.And that I long to convince her I am not the brute she might mistake me for.
Sir Dav.Right. [Aside.] Well, this will make the purest sport.—Let me see; first you acknowledge yourself to be a very impudent fellow?
Beau.I do so, sir.
Sir Dav.And that you shall never be at rest till you have satisfied my lady?
Beau.Right, sir.
Sir Dav.Satisfied her! very good; ha, ha, ha! and that you will never play the fool any more? Be sure you keep your word, friend.
Beau.Never, sir.
Sir Dav.And that you will keep that ring for her sake, as long as you live, ha?
Beau.To the day of my death, I'll assure you.
Sir Dav.I protest that will be very kindly done. And that you long, mightily long to let her understand that you are another guess fellow than she may take you for?
Beau.Exactly, sir, this is the sum and end of my desires.
Sir Dav.Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your business, I'll warrant you. [Aside.] This will make the purest sport when I come home!—Well, your servant; remember, be sure you remember: your servant. [Exit.
Beau.So, now I find a husband is a delicate instrument rightly made use of;—to make her old jealous coxcomb pimp for me himself! I think is as worthy an employment as such a noble consort can be put to.
Ah, were ye all such husbands and such wives,We younger brothers should lead better lives.[Exit.
Ah, were ye all such husbands and such wives,We younger brothers should lead better lives.[Exit.
FOOTNOTES:[35]i.e.Cocking his hat.[36]A privy.[37]The verse of Scripture read by criminals to obtain benefit of clergy.[38]i.e.Sedan chairs.[39]i.e.A strong inclination. The expression occurs inHudibrasand elsewhere.
[35]i.e.Cocking his hat.
[35]i.e.Cocking his hat.
[36]A privy.
[36]A privy.
[37]The verse of Scripture read by criminals to obtain benefit of clergy.
[37]The verse of Scripture read by criminals to obtain benefit of clergy.
[38]i.e.Sedan chairs.
[38]i.e.Sedan chairs.
[39]i.e.A strong inclination. The expression occurs inHudibrasand elsewhere.
[39]i.e.A strong inclination. The expression occurs inHudibrasand elsewhere.
EnterSylvia.
Sylv. To fall in love, and to fall in love with a soldier! nay, a disbanded soldier too; a fellow with the mark of Cain upon him, which everybody knows him by, and is ready to throw stones at him for.
Sylv. To fall in love, and to fall in love with a soldier! nay, a disbanded soldier too; a fellow with the mark of Cain upon him, which everybody knows him by, and is ready to throw stones at him for.
EnterCourtine.
Cour.Damn her! I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if she were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her. Ay, 'tis she; I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken in it.—Madam.Sylv.Sir.Cour.'Tis a very hard case, that you have resolved not to let me be quiet.Sylv.'Tis very unreasonably done of you, sir, to haunt me up and down everywhere at this scandalous rate; the world will think we are acquainted, shortly.Cour.But, madam, I shall fairly take more care of my reputation, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most watchfully.Sylv.Have you not haunted this place these two hours?Cour.'Twas because I knew it to be your ladyship's home, then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you least of all frequented; one would imagine you were gone a-coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public appearance or other; 'tis pretty near the hour; 'twill be twilight presently, and then the owls come all abroad.Sylv.What need I take the trouble to go so far a-fowling, when there's game enough at our own doors?Cour.What, game for your net, fair lady?Sylv.Yes, or any woman's net else, that will spread it.Cour.To show you how despicably I think of the business, I will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of railing at you.Sylv.Do so, I would advise you; your raillery betrays your wit, as bad as your clumsy civility does your breeding.Cour.Adieu!Sylv.Farewell!Cour.Why do not you go about your business?Sylv.Because I would be sure to be rid of you first, that you might not dog me.Cour.Were it but possible that you could answer me one question truly, and then I should be satisfied.Sylv.Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomely.Cour.Are you really very honest? look in my face, and tell me that.Sylv.Look in your face and tell you! for what? to spoil my stomach to my supper?Cour.No, but to get thee a stomach to thy bed, sweetheart; I would if possible be better acquainted with thee, because thou art very ill-natured.Sylv.Your only way to bring that business about effectually, is to be more troublesome; and if you think it worth your while to be abused substantially, you may make your personal appearance this night.Cour.How? where? and when? and what hour, I beseech thee?Sylv.Under the window, between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly.
Cour.Damn her! I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if she were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her. Ay, 'tis she; I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken in it.—Madam.
Sylv.Sir.
Cour.'Tis a very hard case, that you have resolved not to let me be quiet.
Sylv.'Tis very unreasonably done of you, sir, to haunt me up and down everywhere at this scandalous rate; the world will think we are acquainted, shortly.
Cour.But, madam, I shall fairly take more care of my reputation, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most watchfully.
Sylv.Have you not haunted this place these two hours?
Cour.'Twas because I knew it to be your ladyship's home, then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you least of all frequented; one would imagine you were gone a-coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public appearance or other; 'tis pretty near the hour; 'twill be twilight presently, and then the owls come all abroad.
Sylv.What need I take the trouble to go so far a-fowling, when there's game enough at our own doors?
Cour.What, game for your net, fair lady?
Sylv.Yes, or any woman's net else, that will spread it.
Cour.To show you how despicably I think of the business, I will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of railing at you.
Sylv.Do so, I would advise you; your raillery betrays your wit, as bad as your clumsy civility does your breeding.
Cour.Adieu!
Sylv.Farewell!
Cour.Why do not you go about your business?
Sylv.Because I would be sure to be rid of you first, that you might not dog me.
Cour.Were it but possible that you could answer me one question truly, and then I should be satisfied.
Sylv.Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomely.
Cour.Are you really very honest? look in my face, and tell me that.
Sylv.Look in your face and tell you! for what? to spoil my stomach to my supper?
Cour.No, but to get thee a stomach to thy bed, sweetheart; I would if possible be better acquainted with thee, because thou art very ill-natured.
Sylv.Your only way to bring that business about effectually, is to be more troublesome; and if you think it worth your while to be abused substantially, you may make your personal appearance this night.
Cour.How? where? and when? and what hour, I beseech thee?
Sylv.Under the window, between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly.