SCENE III.—LadyDunce'sChamber.

Sir Jol.Neighbour, where are you, friend, Sir Davy?Sir Dav.Ah, whatever you do, be sure to stand close to me: where, where is it?Sir Jol.Just, just there, in the shape of a coach and six horses against the wall.Sir Dav.Deliver us all! he won't carry me away in that coach and six, will he?Sir Jol.Do you see it?[Exit.Sir Dav.See it! plain, plain: dear friend, advise me what I shall do: Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, do you hear nothing? Sir Jolly—ha! has he left me alone, Vermin?Ver.Sir.Sir Dav.Am I alive? Dost thou know me again? Am I thy quondam master, Sir Davy Dunce?Ver.I hope I shall never forget you, sir.Sir Dav.Didst thou see nothing?Ver.Yes, sir, methought the house was all a-fire, as it were.Sir Dav.Didst thou not see how the devils grinned and gnashed their teeth at me, Vermin?Ver.Alas, sir, I was afraid one of 'em would have bit off my nose, as he vanished out of the door.Sir Dav.Lead me away, I'll go to my wife, I'll die by my own dear wife. Run away to the Temple, and call Counsellor, my lawyer; I'll make over my estate presently, I shan't live till noon; I'll give all I have to my wife. Ha, Vermin!Ver.Truly, sir, she's a very good lady.Sir Dav.Ah, much, much too good for me, Vermin; thou canst not imagine what she has done for me, man; she would break her heart if I should give any thing away from her, she loves me so dearly. Yet if I do die, thou shalt have all my old shoes.Ver.I hope to see you live many a fair day yet though.Sir Dav.Ah, my wife, my poor wife! lead me to my poor wife.[Exeunt.SCENE III.—LadyDunce'sChamber.LadyDunceandBeaugarddiscovered.L. Dunce.What think you now of a cold wet march over the mountains, your men tired, your baggage not come up, but at night a dirty watery plain to encamp upon, and nothing to shelter you, but an old leaguer cloak as tattered as your colours? Is not this much better, now, than lying wet, and getting the sciatica?Beau.The hopes of this made all fatigue easy to me; the thoughts of Clarinda have a thousand times refreshed me in my solitude. Whene'er I marched,I fancied still it was to my Clarinda; when I fought, I imagined it was for my Clarinda; but when I came home, and found Clarinda lost!—How could you think of wasting but a night in the rank, surfeiting arms of this foul-feeding monster, this rotten trunk of a man, that lays claim to you?L. Dunce.The persuasion of friends, and the authority of parents.Beau.And had you no more grace than to be ruled by a father and mother?L. Dunce.When you were gone, that should have given me better counsel, how could I help myself?Beau.Methinks, then, you might have found out some cleanlier shift to have thrown away yourself upon than nauseous old age, and unwholesome deformity.L. Dunce.What, upon some over-grown, full-fed country fool, with a horse-face, a great ugly head, and a great fine estate; one that should have been drained and squeezed, and jolted up and down the town in hackneys with cheats and hectors, and so sent home at three o'clock every morning, like a lolling booby, stinking, with a belly-full of stummed wine,[52]and nothing in's pockets?Beau.You might have made a tractable beast of such a one; he would have been young enough for training.L. Dunce.Is youth then so gentle, if age be stubborn? Young men, like springs wrought by a subtle workman, easily ply to what their wishes press them; but the desire once gone that kept them down, they soon start straight again, and no sign's left which way they bent before.Sir Jol.[At the door peeping.] So, so, who says I see anything now? I see nothing, not I; I don't see, I don't see, I don't look, not so much as look, not I.[He enters.

Sir Jol.Neighbour, where are you, friend, Sir Davy?

Sir Dav.Ah, whatever you do, be sure to stand close to me: where, where is it?

Sir Jol.Just, just there, in the shape of a coach and six horses against the wall.

Sir Dav.Deliver us all! he won't carry me away in that coach and six, will he?

Sir Jol.Do you see it?[Exit.

Sir Dav.See it! plain, plain: dear friend, advise me what I shall do: Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, do you hear nothing? Sir Jolly—ha! has he left me alone, Vermin?

Ver.Sir.

Sir Dav.Am I alive? Dost thou know me again? Am I thy quondam master, Sir Davy Dunce?

Ver.I hope I shall never forget you, sir.

Sir Dav.Didst thou see nothing?

Ver.Yes, sir, methought the house was all a-fire, as it were.

Sir Dav.Didst thou not see how the devils grinned and gnashed their teeth at me, Vermin?

Ver.Alas, sir, I was afraid one of 'em would have bit off my nose, as he vanished out of the door.

Sir Dav.Lead me away, I'll go to my wife, I'll die by my own dear wife. Run away to the Temple, and call Counsellor, my lawyer; I'll make over my estate presently, I shan't live till noon; I'll give all I have to my wife. Ha, Vermin!

Ver.Truly, sir, she's a very good lady.

Sir Dav.Ah, much, much too good for me, Vermin; thou canst not imagine what she has done for me, man; she would break her heart if I should give any thing away from her, she loves me so dearly. Yet if I do die, thou shalt have all my old shoes.

Ver.I hope to see you live many a fair day yet though.

Sir Dav.Ah, my wife, my poor wife! lead me to my poor wife.[Exeunt.

LadyDunceandBeaugarddiscovered.

L. Dunce.What think you now of a cold wet march over the mountains, your men tired, your baggage not come up, but at night a dirty watery plain to encamp upon, and nothing to shelter you, but an old leaguer cloak as tattered as your colours? Is not this much better, now, than lying wet, and getting the sciatica?

Beau.The hopes of this made all fatigue easy to me; the thoughts of Clarinda have a thousand times refreshed me in my solitude. Whene'er I marched,I fancied still it was to my Clarinda; when I fought, I imagined it was for my Clarinda; but when I came home, and found Clarinda lost!—How could you think of wasting but a night in the rank, surfeiting arms of this foul-feeding monster, this rotten trunk of a man, that lays claim to you?

L. Dunce.The persuasion of friends, and the authority of parents.

Beau.And had you no more grace than to be ruled by a father and mother?

L. Dunce.When you were gone, that should have given me better counsel, how could I help myself?

Beau.Methinks, then, you might have found out some cleanlier shift to have thrown away yourself upon than nauseous old age, and unwholesome deformity.

L. Dunce.What, upon some over-grown, full-fed country fool, with a horse-face, a great ugly head, and a great fine estate; one that should have been drained and squeezed, and jolted up and down the town in hackneys with cheats and hectors, and so sent home at three o'clock every morning, like a lolling booby, stinking, with a belly-full of stummed wine,[52]and nothing in's pockets?

Beau.You might have made a tractable beast of such a one; he would have been young enough for training.

L. Dunce.Is youth then so gentle, if age be stubborn? Young men, like springs wrought by a subtle workman, easily ply to what their wishes press them; but the desire once gone that kept them down, they soon start straight again, and no sign's left which way they bent before.

Sir Jol.[At the door peeping.] So, so, who says I see anything now? I see nothing, not I; I don't see, I don't see, I don't look, not so much as look, not I.[He enters.

EnterSirDavy Dunce.

Sir Dav.I will have my wife, carry me to my wife, let me go to my wife, I'll live and die with my wife, let the devil do his worst; ah, my wife, my wife, my wife!L. Dunce.[ToBeaugard.] Alas! alas! we are ruined! shift for yourself; counterfeit the dead corpse once more, or anything.Sir Dav.Ha! whosoe'er thou art thou canst not eat me! speak to me, who has done this? Thou canst not say I did it.Sir Jol.Did it? did what? Here's nobody says you did anything that I know, neighbour; what's the matter with you? what ails you? whither do you go? whither do you run? I tell you here's nobody says a word to you.Sir Dav.Did you not see the ghost just now?Sir Jol.Ghost! pr'ythee now, here's no ghost; whither would you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther, man; the devil take me if you do. Ghost! pr'ythee, here's no ghost at all; a little flesh and blood, indeed, there is, some old, some young, some alive, some dead, and so forth; but ghost! pish, here's no ghost.Sir Dav.But, sir, if I say I did see a ghost, I did see a ghost, an you go to that; why, sure I know a ghost when I see one. Ah, my dear, if thou hadst but seen the devil half so often as I have seen him!L. Dunce.Alas, Sir Davy! if you ever loved me, come not, oh, come not near me; I have resolved to waste the short remainder of my life in penitence, and taste of joys no more.Sir Dav.Alas, my poor child! But do you think there was no ghost indeed?Sir Jol.Ghost! Alas-a-day, what should a ghost do here?Sir Dav.And is the man dead?Sir Jol.Dead! ay, ay, stark dead, he's stiff by this time.L. Dunce.Here you may see the horrid ghastly spectacle, the sad effects of my too rigid virtue, and your too fierce resentment—Sir Jol.Do you see there?Sir Dav.Ay, ay, I do see; would I had never seen him; would he had lain with my wife in every house between Charing Cross and Aldgate, so this had never happened!Sir Jol.In truth, and would he had! but we are all mortal, neighbour, all mortal; to-day we are here, to-morrow gone; like the shadow that vanisheth, like the grass that withereth, or like the flower that fadeth; or indeed like anything, or rather like nothing: but we are all mortal.Sir Dav.Heigh!L. Dunce.Down, down that trap-door, it goes into a bathing-room; for the rest, leave it to my conduct.

Sir Dav.I will have my wife, carry me to my wife, let me go to my wife, I'll live and die with my wife, let the devil do his worst; ah, my wife, my wife, my wife!

L. Dunce.[ToBeaugard.] Alas! alas! we are ruined! shift for yourself; counterfeit the dead corpse once more, or anything.

Sir Dav.Ha! whosoe'er thou art thou canst not eat me! speak to me, who has done this? Thou canst not say I did it.

Sir Jol.Did it? did what? Here's nobody says you did anything that I know, neighbour; what's the matter with you? what ails you? whither do you go? whither do you run? I tell you here's nobody says a word to you.

Sir Dav.Did you not see the ghost just now?

Sir Jol.Ghost! pr'ythee now, here's no ghost; whither would you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther, man; the devil take me if you do. Ghost! pr'ythee, here's no ghost at all; a little flesh and blood, indeed, there is, some old, some young, some alive, some dead, and so forth; but ghost! pish, here's no ghost.

Sir Dav.But, sir, if I say I did see a ghost, I did see a ghost, an you go to that; why, sure I know a ghost when I see one. Ah, my dear, if thou hadst but seen the devil half so often as I have seen him!

L. Dunce.Alas, Sir Davy! if you ever loved me, come not, oh, come not near me; I have resolved to waste the short remainder of my life in penitence, and taste of joys no more.

Sir Dav.Alas, my poor child! But do you think there was no ghost indeed?

Sir Jol.Ghost! Alas-a-day, what should a ghost do here?

Sir Dav.And is the man dead?

Sir Jol.Dead! ay, ay, stark dead, he's stiff by this time.

L. Dunce.Here you may see the horrid ghastly spectacle, the sad effects of my too rigid virtue, and your too fierce resentment—

Sir Jol.Do you see there?

Sir Dav.Ay, ay, I do see; would I had never seen him; would he had lain with my wife in every house between Charing Cross and Aldgate, so this had never happened!

Sir Jol.In truth, and would he had! but we are all mortal, neighbour, all mortal; to-day we are here, to-morrow gone; like the shadow that vanisheth, like the grass that withereth, or like the flower that fadeth; or indeed like anything, or rather like nothing: but we are all mortal.

Sir Dav.Heigh!

L. Dunce.Down, down that trap-door, it goes into a bathing-room; for the rest, leave it to my conduct.

[Beaugarddescends.

Sir Jol.'Tis very unfortunate that you should run yourself into thispremunire,[53]Sir Davy.Sir Dav.Indeed, and so it is.Sir Jol.For a gentleman, a man in authority, a person in years, one that used to go to church with his neighbours.Sir Dav.Every Sunday truly, Sir Jolly.Sir Jol.Pay scot and lot to the parish.Sir Dav.Six pounds a year to the very poor, without abatement or deduction: 'tis very hard if so good a commonwealth's-man should be brought to ride in a cart at last, and be hanged in a sunshiny morning to make butchers and suburb apprentices a holiday; I'll e'en run away.Sir Jol.Run away! why then your estate will be forfeited; you'll lose your estate, man.Sir Dav.Truly you say right, friend; and a man had better be half-hanged than lose his estate, you know.Sir Jol.Hanged! no, no, I think there's no great fear of hanging neither: what, the fellow was but a sort of an unaccountable fellow, as I heard you say.Sir Dav.Ay, ay, pox on him, he was a soldierly sort of a vagabond; he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon: if I could have had but patience, he would have been hanged within these two months, and all this mischief saved.

Sir Jol.'Tis very unfortunate that you should run yourself into thispremunire,[53]Sir Davy.

Sir Dav.Indeed, and so it is.

Sir Jol.For a gentleman, a man in authority, a person in years, one that used to go to church with his neighbours.

Sir Dav.Every Sunday truly, Sir Jolly.

Sir Jol.Pay scot and lot to the parish.

Sir Dav.Six pounds a year to the very poor, without abatement or deduction: 'tis very hard if so good a commonwealth's-man should be brought to ride in a cart at last, and be hanged in a sunshiny morning to make butchers and suburb apprentices a holiday; I'll e'en run away.

Sir Jol.Run away! why then your estate will be forfeited; you'll lose your estate, man.

Sir Dav.Truly you say right, friend; and a man had better be half-hanged than lose his estate, you know.

Sir Jol.Hanged! no, no, I think there's no great fear of hanging neither: what, the fellow was but a sort of an unaccountable fellow, as I heard you say.

Sir Dav.Ay, ay, pox on him, he was a soldierly sort of a vagabond; he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon: if I could have had but patience, he would have been hanged within these two months, and all this mischief saved.

[Beaugardrises up like a ghost at thetrap-door, just beforeSirDavy.

O Lord! the devil, the devil, the devil![Falls upon his face.Sir Jol.Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ails you? what's the matter with you?Sir Dav.Let me alone, let me lie still; I will not look up to see an angel; oh-h-h!L. Dunce.My dear, why do you do these cruel things to affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.Sir Dav.I dare not stir; I saw the ghost again just now.L. Dunce.Ghost again! what ghost? where?Sir Dav.Why, there! there!Sir Jol.Here has been no ghost.Sir Dav.Why, did you see nothing then?L. Dunce.See nothing! no, nothing but one another.Sir Dav.Then I am enchanted, or my end is near at hand, neighbour; for Heaven's sake, neighbour, advise me what I shall do to be at rest.Sir Jol.Do! why, what think you if the body were removed?Sir Dav.Removed! I'd give a hundred pound the body were out of my house; may be then the devil would not be so impudent.Sir Jol.I have discovered a door-place in the wallbetwixt my lady's chamber and one that belongs to me; if you think fit we'll beat it down, and remove this troublesome lump of earth to my house.Sir Dav.But will you be so kind?Sir Jol.If you think it may by any means be serviceable to you.Sir Dav.Truly, if the body were removed, and disposed of privately, that no more might be heard of the matter—I hope he'll be as good as his word. [Aside.Sir Jol.Fear nothing, I'll warrant you; but in troth I had utterly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.Sir Dav.What's that?Sir Jol.Why, it will be absolutely necessary that your lady stayed with me at my house for one day, till things were better settled.Sir Dav.Ah, Sir Jolly! whatever you think fit; anything of mine that you have a mind to; pray take her, pray take her, you shall be very welcome. Hear you, my dearest, there is but one way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir Jolly has found it out; therefore by all means go along with him, and be ruled by him; and whatever Sir Jolly would have thee do, e'en do it: so Heaven prosper ye, good-bye, good-bye, till I see you again. [Exit.Sir Jol.This is certainly the civilest cuckold in city, town, or country.Beau.Is he gone?[Steps out.L. Dunce.Yes, and has left poor me here.Beau.In troth, madam, 'tis barbarously done of him, to commit a horrid murder on the body of an innocent poor fellow, and then leave you to stem the danger of it.Sir Jol.Odd, an I were as thee, sweetheart, I'd be revenged on him for it, so I would. Go, get ye together, steal out of the house as softly as you can, I'll meet ye in the Piazza presently; go, be sure ye steal out of the house, and don't let Sir Davy see you.[Exeunt.

O Lord! the devil, the devil, the devil![Falls upon his face.

Sir Jol.Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ails you? what's the matter with you?

Sir Dav.Let me alone, let me lie still; I will not look up to see an angel; oh-h-h!

L. Dunce.My dear, why do you do these cruel things to affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.

Sir Dav.I dare not stir; I saw the ghost again just now.

L. Dunce.Ghost again! what ghost? where?

Sir Dav.Why, there! there!

Sir Jol.Here has been no ghost.

Sir Dav.Why, did you see nothing then?

L. Dunce.See nothing! no, nothing but one another.

Sir Dav.Then I am enchanted, or my end is near at hand, neighbour; for Heaven's sake, neighbour, advise me what I shall do to be at rest.

Sir Jol.Do! why, what think you if the body were removed?

Sir Dav.Removed! I'd give a hundred pound the body were out of my house; may be then the devil would not be so impudent.

Sir Jol.I have discovered a door-place in the wallbetwixt my lady's chamber and one that belongs to me; if you think fit we'll beat it down, and remove this troublesome lump of earth to my house.

Sir Dav.But will you be so kind?

Sir Jol.If you think it may by any means be serviceable to you.

Sir Dav.Truly, if the body were removed, and disposed of privately, that no more might be heard of the matter—I hope he'll be as good as his word. [Aside.

Sir Jol.Fear nothing, I'll warrant you; but in troth I had utterly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.

Sir Dav.What's that?

Sir Jol.Why, it will be absolutely necessary that your lady stayed with me at my house for one day, till things were better settled.

Sir Dav.Ah, Sir Jolly! whatever you think fit; anything of mine that you have a mind to; pray take her, pray take her, you shall be very welcome. Hear you, my dearest, there is but one way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir Jolly has found it out; therefore by all means go along with him, and be ruled by him; and whatever Sir Jolly would have thee do, e'en do it: so Heaven prosper ye, good-bye, good-bye, till I see you again. [Exit.

Sir Jol.This is certainly the civilest cuckold in city, town, or country.

Beau.Is he gone?[Steps out.

L. Dunce.Yes, and has left poor me here.

Beau.In troth, madam, 'tis barbarously done of him, to commit a horrid murder on the body of an innocent poor fellow, and then leave you to stem the danger of it.

Sir Jol.Odd, an I were as thee, sweetheart, I'd be revenged on him for it, so I would. Go, get ye together, steal out of the house as softly as you can, I'll meet ye in the Piazza presently; go, be sure ye steal out of the house, and don't let Sir Davy see you.[Exeunt.

EnterSirJolly Jumble.

Sir Jol.Bloody-Bones!

EnterBloody-Bones.

Bloody-B.I am here, sir.Sir Jol.Go you and Fourbin to my house presently; bid Monsieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according to my directions. Tell my maids, too, I am coming home in a trice; bid 'em get the great chamber, and the banquet I spoke for, ready presently. And, d'ye hear, carry the minstrels with ye too, for I am resolved to rejoice this morning. Let me see—Sir Davy!

Bloody-B.I am here, sir.

Sir Jol.Go you and Fourbin to my house presently; bid Monsieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according to my directions. Tell my maids, too, I am coming home in a trice; bid 'em get the great chamber, and the banquet I spoke for, ready presently. And, d'ye hear, carry the minstrels with ye too, for I am resolved to rejoice this morning. Let me see—Sir Davy!

EnterSirDavy Dunce.

Sir Dav.Ay, neighbour, 'tis I; is the business done? I cannot be satisfied till I am sure: have you removed the body? is it gone?Sir Jol.Yes, yes, my servants conveyed it out of the house just now. Well, Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you your health, with all my heart, Sir Davy; the first thing you do, though, I'd have you say your prayers by all means, if you can.Sir Dav.If I can possibly, I will.Sir Jol.Well, good-bye.[Exit.Sir Dav.Well, good-bye heartily, good neighbour.—Vermin, Vermin!

Sir Dav.Ay, neighbour, 'tis I; is the business done? I cannot be satisfied till I am sure: have you removed the body? is it gone?

Sir Jol.Yes, yes, my servants conveyed it out of the house just now. Well, Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you your health, with all my heart, Sir Davy; the first thing you do, though, I'd have you say your prayers by all means, if you can.

Sir Dav.If I can possibly, I will.

Sir Jol.Well, good-bye.[Exit.

Sir Dav.Well, good-bye heartily, good neighbour.—Vermin, Vermin!

EnterVermin.

Ver.Did your honour call?Sir Dav.Go run, run presently over the square, and call the constable presently; tell him here's murder committed, and that I must speak with him instantly. I'll e'en carry him to my neighbour's, that he may find the dead body there, and so let myneighbour be very fairly hanged in my stead; ha! a very good jest, as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha!—hey, what's that?Watchmen.[Within.] Almost four o'clock, and a dark cloudy morning; good-morrow, my masters all, good-morrow!

Ver.Did your honour call?

Sir Dav.Go run, run presently over the square, and call the constable presently; tell him here's murder committed, and that I must speak with him instantly. I'll e'en carry him to my neighbour's, that he may find the dead body there, and so let myneighbour be very fairly hanged in my stead; ha! a very good jest, as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha!—hey, what's that?

Watchmen.[Within.] Almost four o'clock, and a dark cloudy morning; good-morrow, my masters all, good-morrow!

EnterConstableandWatch.

Const.How's this, a door open! Come in, gentlemen.—Ah, Sir Davy, your honour's humble servant; I and my watch, going my morning-rounds, and finding your door open, made bold to enter, to see there were no danger. Your worship will excuse our care; a good morning to you, sir.Sir Dav.Oh, Master Constable, I'm glad you're here; I sent my man just now to call you. I have sad news to tell you, Master Constable.Const.I am sorry for that, sir; sad news!Sir Dav.Oh, ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been murder committed.Const.Murder! if that's all, we are your humble servants, sir, we'll bid you good-morrow: murder's nothing at this time o' night in Covent-garden.Sir Dav.Oh, but this is a horrid, bloody murder, done under my nose; I cannot but take notice of it; though I am sorry to tell you the authors of it, very sorry truly.Const.Was it committed here near hand?Sir Dav.Oh, at the very next door; a sad murder indeed. After they had done, they carried the body privately into my neighbour Sir Jolly's house here; I am sorry to tell it you, Master Constable, for I am afraid it will look but scurvily on his side; though I am a justice o' peace, gentlemen, and am bound by my oath to take notice of it; I can't help it.1st Watch.I never liked that Sir Jolly.Const.He threatened me t'other day for carryinga little, dirty, draggle-tailed whore to Bridewell, and said she was his cousin. Sir, if your worship thinks fit, we'll go search his house.Sir Dav.Oh, by all means, gentlemen, it must be so; justice must have its course; the king's liege subjects must not be destroyed.—Vermin, carry Master Constable and his dragons into the cellar, and make 'em drink; I'll but step into my study, put on my face of authority, and call upon ye instantly.Watchmen.We thank your honour.[Exeunt.

Sir Dav.Oh, Master Constable, I'm glad you're here; I sent my man just now to call you. I have sad news to tell you, Master Constable.

Const.I am sorry for that, sir; sad news!

Sir Dav.Oh, ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been murder committed.

Const.Murder! if that's all, we are your humble servants, sir, we'll bid you good-morrow: murder's nothing at this time o' night in Covent-garden.

Sir Dav.Oh, but this is a horrid, bloody murder, done under my nose; I cannot but take notice of it; though I am sorry to tell you the authors of it, very sorry truly.

Const.Was it committed here near hand?

Sir Dav.Oh, at the very next door; a sad murder indeed. After they had done, they carried the body privately into my neighbour Sir Jolly's house here; I am sorry to tell it you, Master Constable, for I am afraid it will look but scurvily on his side; though I am a justice o' peace, gentlemen, and am bound by my oath to take notice of it; I can't help it.

1st Watch.I never liked that Sir Jolly.

Const.He threatened me t'other day for carryinga little, dirty, draggle-tailed whore to Bridewell, and said she was his cousin. Sir, if your worship thinks fit, we'll go search his house.

Sir Dav.Oh, by all means, gentlemen, it must be so; justice must have its course; the king's liege subjects must not be destroyed.—Vermin, carry Master Constable and his dragons into the cellar, and make 'em drink; I'll but step into my study, put on my face of authority, and call upon ye instantly.

Watchmen.We thank your honour.[Exeunt.

EnterSirJolly Jumble,Beaugard,andLadyDunce.

Sir Jol.So, are ye come? I am glad on't; odd, you're welcome, very welcome, odd, ye are; here's a small banquet, but I hope 'twill please you; sit ye down, sit ye down both together; nay, both together: a pox o' him that parts ye, I say!Beau.Sir Jolly, this might be an entertainment for Antony and Cleopatra, were they living.Sir Jol.Pish! a pox of Antony and Cleopatra, they are dead and rotten long ago; come, come, time's but short, time's but short, and must be made the best use of; for

Beau.Sir Jolly, this might be an entertainment for Antony and Cleopatra, were they living.

Sir Jol.Pish! a pox of Antony and Cleopatra, they are dead and rotten long ago; come, come, time's but short, time's but short, and must be made the best use of; for

Youth's a flower that soon does fade,And life is but a span;Man was for the woman made,And woman made for man.

Why, now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk and be brisk, rejoice, and make a noise, and—odd, I am pleased, mightily pleased, odd, I am.L. Dunce.Really, Sir Jolly, you are more a philosopher than I thought you were.Sir Jol.Philosopher, madam! yes, madam, I have read books in my times; odd, Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding fellow. Why don't ye eat? odd, an ye don't eat—here, child, here's some ringoes,[54]help, help your neighbour a little; odd, they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.Beau.Sir Jolly, your health.Sir Jol.With all my heart, old boy.L. Dunce.Dear Sir Jolly, what are these? I never tasted of these before.Sir Jol.That? eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd, 'tis the root satyrion,[55]a very precious plant, I gather 'em every May myself; odd, they'll make an old fellow of sixty-five cut a caper like a dancing-master. Give me some wine. Madam, here's a health, here's a health, madam, here's a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! [Dance.

Why, now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk and be brisk, rejoice, and make a noise, and—odd, I am pleased, mightily pleased, odd, I am.

L. Dunce.Really, Sir Jolly, you are more a philosopher than I thought you were.

Sir Jol.Philosopher, madam! yes, madam, I have read books in my times; odd, Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding fellow. Why don't ye eat? odd, an ye don't eat—here, child, here's some ringoes,[54]help, help your neighbour a little; odd, they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.

Beau.Sir Jolly, your health.

Sir Jol.With all my heart, old boy.

L. Dunce.Dear Sir Jolly, what are these? I never tasted of these before.

Sir Jol.That? eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd, 'tis the root satyrion,[55]a very precious plant, I gather 'em every May myself; odd, they'll make an old fellow of sixty-five cut a caper like a dancing-master. Give me some wine. Madam, here's a health, here's a health, madam, here's a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! [Dance.

EnterBloody-Bones.

Bloody-B.Sir, sir, sir! what will you do? yonder's the constable and all his watch at the door, and threatens demolishment, if not admitted presently.Sir Jol.Odds so! odds so! the constable and his watch! what's to be done now? get you both into the alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly; no noise, no noise, d'ye hear? [ExeuntLadyDunceandBeaugard.] The constable and his watch! a pox on the constable and his watch! what the devil have the constable and his watch to do here?

Bloody-B.Sir, sir, sir! what will you do? yonder's the constable and all his watch at the door, and threatens demolishment, if not admitted presently.

Sir Jol.Odds so! odds so! the constable and his watch! what's to be done now? get you both into the alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly; no noise, no noise, d'ye hear? [ExeuntLadyDunceandBeaugard.] The constable and his watch! a pox on the constable and his watch! what the devil have the constable and his watch to do here?

EnterConstable, Watch,andSirDavy Dunce.

Const.This way, this way, gentlemen; stay one ofye at the door, and let nobody pass, do you hear? Sir Jolly, your servant.Sir Jol.What, this outrage, this disturbance committed upon my house and family! sir, sir, sir! what do you mean by these doings, sweet sir? ho!Const.Sir, having received information that the body of a murdered man is concealed in your house, I am come, according to my duty, to make search and discover the truth.—Stand to my assistance, gentlemen.Sir Jol.A murdered man, sir?Sir Dav.Yes, a murdered man, sir. Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, I am sorry to see a person of your character and figure in the parish concerned in a murder, I say.Sir Jol.Here's a dog! here's a rogue for you! here's a villain! here's a cuckoldy son of his mother! I never knew a cuckold in my life that was not a false rogue in his heart; there are no honest fellows living but whore-masters. Hark you, sir, what a pox do you mean? you had best play the fool, and spoil all, you had; what's all this for?Sir Dav.When your worship's come to be hanged, you'll find the meaning on't, sir. I say once more, search the house.Const.It shall be done, sir. Come along, friends.

Const.This way, this way, gentlemen; stay one ofye at the door, and let nobody pass, do you hear? Sir Jolly, your servant.

Sir Jol.What, this outrage, this disturbance committed upon my house and family! sir, sir, sir! what do you mean by these doings, sweet sir? ho!

Const.Sir, having received information that the body of a murdered man is concealed in your house, I am come, according to my duty, to make search and discover the truth.—Stand to my assistance, gentlemen.

Sir Jol.A murdered man, sir?

Sir Dav.Yes, a murdered man, sir. Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, I am sorry to see a person of your character and figure in the parish concerned in a murder, I say.

Sir Jol.Here's a dog! here's a rogue for you! here's a villain! here's a cuckoldy son of his mother! I never knew a cuckold in my life that was not a false rogue in his heart; there are no honest fellows living but whore-masters. Hark you, sir, what a pox do you mean? you had best play the fool, and spoil all, you had; what's all this for?

Sir Dav.When your worship's come to be hanged, you'll find the meaning on't, sir. I say once more, search the house.

Const.It shall be done, sir. Come along, friends.

[ExeuntConstableandWatch.

Sir Jol.Search my house! O Lord! search my house! what will become of me? I shall lose my reputation with man and woman, and nobody will ever trust me again. O Lord! search my house! all will be discovered, do what I can! I'll sing a song like a dying swan, and try to give them warning.

Go from the window, my love, my love, my love,Go from the window, my dear;The wind and the rainHave brought 'em back again,And thou canst have no lodging here.[56]

O Lord! search my house!Sir Dav.Break down that door, I'll have that door broke open; break down that door, I say.[Knocking within.Sir Jol.Very well done; break down my doors, break down my walls, gentlemen! plunder my house! ravish my maids! Ah, cursed be cuckolds, cuckolds, constables, and cuckolds!

O Lord! search my house!

Sir Dav.Break down that door, I'll have that door broke open; break down that door, I say.[Knocking within.

Sir Jol.Very well done; break down my doors, break down my walls, gentlemen! plunder my house! ravish my maids! Ah, cursed be cuckolds, cuckolds, constables, and cuckolds!

A door is opened and discoversBeaugardandLadyDunce.

Re-enterConstableandWatch.

Beau.Stand off! by Heaven, the first that comes here comes upon his death.Sir Dav.Sir, your humble servant; I'm glad to see you are alive again with all my heart. Gentlemen, here's no harm done, gentlemen; here's nobody murdered, gentlemen; the man's alive, again, gentlemen; but here's my wife, gentlemen, and a fine gentleman with her, gentlemen; and Master Constable, I hope you'll bear me witness, Master Constable.Sir Jol.That he's a cuckold, Master Constable.

Beau.Stand off! by Heaven, the first that comes here comes upon his death.

Sir Dav.Sir, your humble servant; I'm glad to see you are alive again with all my heart. Gentlemen, here's no harm done, gentlemen; here's nobody murdered, gentlemen; the man's alive, again, gentlemen; but here's my wife, gentlemen, and a fine gentleman with her, gentlemen; and Master Constable, I hope you'll bear me witness, Master Constable.

Sir Jol.That he's a cuckold, Master Constable.

[Aside.

Beau.Hark ye, ye curs, keep off from snapping at my heels, or I shall so feague[57]ye.Sir Jol.Get ye gone, ye dogs, ye rogues, ye night-toads of the parish dungeon; disturb my house at these unseasonable hours! get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I'll brain ye, dogs, rogues, villains![ExeuntConstableandWatch.Beau.And next for you, Sir Coxcomb, you see Iam not murdered, though you paid well for the performance; what think you of bribing my own man to butcher me?

Beau.Hark ye, ye curs, keep off from snapping at my heels, or I shall so feague[57]ye.

Sir Jol.Get ye gone, ye dogs, ye rogues, ye night-toads of the parish dungeon; disturb my house at these unseasonable hours! get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I'll brain ye, dogs, rogues, villains![ExeuntConstableandWatch.

Beau.And next for you, Sir Coxcomb, you see Iam not murdered, though you paid well for the performance; what think you of bribing my own man to butcher me?

EnterFourbin.

Look ye, sir, he can cut a throat upon occasion, and here's another dresses a man's heart with oil and pepper, better than any cook in Christendom.Four.Will your worship please to have one for your breakfast this morning?Sir Dav.With all my heart, sweetheart, anything in the world, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! this is the purest sport, ha, ha, ha!

Look ye, sir, he can cut a throat upon occasion, and here's another dresses a man's heart with oil and pepper, better than any cook in Christendom.

Four.Will your worship please to have one for your breakfast this morning?

Sir Dav.With all my heart, sweetheart, anything in the world, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! this is the purest sport, ha, ha, ha!

Re-enterVermin.

Ver.Oh, sir, the most unhappy and most unfortunate news! There has been a gentleman in Madam Sylvia's chamber all this night, who, just as you went out of doors, carried her away, and whither they are gone nobody knows.Sir Dav.With all my heart, I am glad on't, child, I would not care if he had carried away my house and all, man. Unhappy news, quoth-a! poor fool, he does not know I am a cuckold, and that anybody may make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha! I am so pleased, ha, ha, ha; I think I was never so pleased in all my life before, ha, ha, ha!Beau.Nay, sir, I have a hank[58]upon you; there are laws for cut-throats, sir; and as you tender your future credit, take this wronged lady home, and use her handsomely, use her like my mistress, sir, do you mark me? that when we think fit to meet again, I hear no complaint of you; this must be done, friend.Sir Jol.In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable in troth.L. Dunce.Can you, my dear, forgive me one misfortune?Sir Dav.Madam, in one word, I am thy ladyship's most humble servant and cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce, knight, living in Covent-garden; ha, ha, ha! well, this is mighty pretty, ha, ha, ha!

Sir Dav.With all my heart, I am glad on't, child, I would not care if he had carried away my house and all, man. Unhappy news, quoth-a! poor fool, he does not know I am a cuckold, and that anybody may make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha! I am so pleased, ha, ha, ha; I think I was never so pleased in all my life before, ha, ha, ha!

Beau.Nay, sir, I have a hank[58]upon you; there are laws for cut-throats, sir; and as you tender your future credit, take this wronged lady home, and use her handsomely, use her like my mistress, sir, do you mark me? that when we think fit to meet again, I hear no complaint of you; this must be done, friend.

Sir Jol.In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable in troth.

L. Dunce.Can you, my dear, forgive me one misfortune?

Sir Dav.Madam, in one word, I am thy ladyship's most humble servant and cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce, knight, living in Covent-garden; ha, ha, ha! well, this is mighty pretty, ha, ha, ha!

EnterSylvia,followed byCourtine.

Sylv.Sir Jolly, ah, Sir Jolly, protect me or I'm ruined.Sir Jol.My little minikin, is it thy squeak?Beau.My dear Courtine, welcome.Sir Jol.Well, child, and what would that wicked fellow do to thee, child? Ha! child, child, what would he do to thee?Sylv.Oh, sir, he has most inhumanly seduced me out of my uncle's house, and threatens to marry me.Cour.Nay, sir, and she having no more grace before her eyes neither, has e'en taken me at my word.Sir Jol.In troth, and that's very uncivilly done: I don't like these marriages, I'll have no marriages in my house, and there's an end on't.Sir Dav.And do you intend to marry my niece, friend?Cour.Yes, sir, and never ask your consent neither.Sir Dav.In troth, and that's very well said: I am glad on't with all my heart, man, because she has five thousand pounds to her portion, and my estate's bound to pay it. Well, this is the happiest day, ha, ha, ha!

Sylv.Sir Jolly, ah, Sir Jolly, protect me or I'm ruined.

Sir Jol.My little minikin, is it thy squeak?

Beau.My dear Courtine, welcome.

Sir Jol.Well, child, and what would that wicked fellow do to thee, child? Ha! child, child, what would he do to thee?

Sylv.Oh, sir, he has most inhumanly seduced me out of my uncle's house, and threatens to marry me.

Cour.Nay, sir, and she having no more grace before her eyes neither, has e'en taken me at my word.

Sir Jol.In troth, and that's very uncivilly done: I don't like these marriages, I'll have no marriages in my house, and there's an end on't.

Sir Dav.And do you intend to marry my niece, friend?

Cour.Yes, sir, and never ask your consent neither.

Sir Dav.In troth, and that's very well said: I am glad on't with all my heart, man, because she has five thousand pounds to her portion, and my estate's bound to pay it. Well, this is the happiest day, ha, ha, ha!

Here, take thy bride, like man and wife agree,And may she prove as true—as mine to me.

Ha, ha, ha!Beau.Courtine, I wish thee joy: thou art come opportunely to be a witness of a perfect reconcilement between me and that worthy knight, Sir Davy Dunce; which to preserve inviolate, you must, sir, before wepart, enter into such covenants for performance as I shall think fit.Sir Dav.No more to be said; it shall be done, sweetheart: but don't be too hard upon me; use me gently, as thou didst my wife; gently, ha, ha, ha! a very good jest, i' faith, ha, ha, ha! or if he should be cruel to me, gentlemen, and take this advantage over a poor cornuto, to lay me in a prison, or throw me in a dungeon, at least—

Ha, ha, ha!

Beau.Courtine, I wish thee joy: thou art come opportunely to be a witness of a perfect reconcilement between me and that worthy knight, Sir Davy Dunce; which to preserve inviolate, you must, sir, before wepart, enter into such covenants for performance as I shall think fit.

Sir Dav.No more to be said; it shall be done, sweetheart: but don't be too hard upon me; use me gently, as thou didst my wife; gently, ha, ha, ha! a very good jest, i' faith, ha, ha, ha! or if he should be cruel to me, gentlemen, and take this advantage over a poor cornuto, to lay me in a prison, or throw me in a dungeon, at least—

I hope amongst all you, sirs, I shan't failTo find one brother-cuckold out for bail.[Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:[48]Getting bespattered while roving about.[49]Whipping.[50]Truly.[51]A strong inclination.[52]Strong new wine.[53]A writ in common law, penalty, difficulty.[54]Eringoes, the holly plant, which was considered to be an aphrodisiac.[55]Another aphrodisiac.[56]This ballad often occurs in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and particularly inMonsieur Thomas.[57]Whip.[58]Hold.

[48]Getting bespattered while roving about.

[49]Whipping.

[50]Truly.

[51]A strong inclination.

[52]Strong new wine.

[53]A writ in common law, penalty, difficulty.

[54]Eringoes, the holly plant, which was considered to be an aphrodisiac.

[55]Another aphrodisiac.

[56]This ballad often occurs in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and particularly inMonsieur Thomas.

[57]Whip.

[58]Hold.

EPILOGUE

With the discharge of passions much oppressed,Disturbed in brain, and pensive in his breast,Full of those thoughts which make the unhappy sad,And by imagination half grown mad,The poet led abroad his mourning muse,And let her range, to see what sport she'd choose.Straight, like a bird got loose, and on the wing,Pleased with her freedom she began to sing;Each note was echoed all the vale along,And this was what she uttered in her song:—Wretch, write no more for an uncertain fame,Nor call thy muse, when thou art dull, to blame:Consider with thyself how thou'rt unfitTo make that monster of mankind, a wit:A wit's a toad, who, swelled with silly pride,Full of himself, scorns all the world beside;Civil would seem, though he good manners lacks,Smiles on all faces, rails behind all backs.If e'er good-natured, nought to ridicule,Good-nature melts a wit into a fool:Placed high like some jack-pudding in a hall,At Christmas revels, he makes sport for all.So much in little praises he delights,But when he's angry, draws his pen, and writes.A wit to no man will his dues allow;Wits will not part with a good word that's due:So whoe'er ventures on the ragged coastOf starving poets, certainly is lost;They rail like porters at the penny-post.At a new author's play see one but sit,Making his snarling froward face of wit,The merit he allows, and praise he grants,Comes like a tax from a poor wretch that wants.O poets, have a care of one another,There's hardly one amongst ye true to t'other:Like Trinculos and Stephanos, ye playThe lewdest tricks each other to betray.[59]Like foes detract, yet flattering, friend-like smile,And all is one another to beguileOf praise, the monster of your barren isle.Enjoy the prostitute ye so admire,Enjoy her to the full of your desire;Whilst this poor scribbler wishes to retire,Where he may ne'er repeat his follies more,But curse the fate that wrecked him on your shore.Now you, who this day as his judges sit,After you've heard what he has said of wit,Ought for your own sakes not to be severe,But show so much to think he meant none here.

Now you, who this day as his judges sit,After you've heard what he has said of wit,Ought for your own sakes not to be severe,But show so much to think he meant none here.

VenicePreserved was written and acted in 1682, when the terrors of the alleged Popish Plot had nearly subsided, and probably receives its second title from that atrocious and equivocal scare. It is founded on the historical novel of Saint-Réal,Conjurationdes Espagnols contre la Veniseen 1618, though Sir Henry Wotton, who was our ambassador to Venice at the time, calls it a French conspiracy. The whole thing was kept as dark as possible by the Republic, and its exact character is not easy to determine. Mr. Horatio Brown, however, by original researches in the Venetian archives, has thrown much light upon it in his recent charming volume ofVenetian Sketches. Needy French adventurers, like Pierre and Renault, appear to have inflamed the ambition of Spanish grandees, like Osorio, Viceroy of Naples, and Bedamar, the ambassador at Venice, to compass the ruin of the Republic by taking advantage of gross internal corruption, the glaring contrast between social luxury and poverty, and consequent political discontent. But it was a rat-like hole-and-corner plot, as devoid of civic virtue or dignity, as any Rye House plot of Otway's time, or any American-Irish assassination club of our own.

The last time the play was performed without the omission of the comic scenes, in which Antonio so degradingly figures, was at the special command of George II.; but they were condemned by the audience in spite of royal influence. The satire upon Shaftesbury, designed in the character of Antonio, is said to have beenintroduced at the instigation of Charles II. (Derrick,Dramatic Censor, p. 2). In the prologue to the play, Shaftesbury's ambition to be elected King of Poland, which procured for him the nick-name of "Count Tapsky," and was ridiculed by Dryden inThe Medal, is openly referred to. Antonio's name and age also correspond to those of Shaftesbury. But the parody of his style of speaking is poor. The audience on the occasion just referred to bestowed vehement applause on Leigh and Mrs. Currer, who acted the parts of Antonio and Aquilina. So fond were people of buffoonery in those days that, according to Davies (Dramatic Miscellany), when Pierre, defying the conspirators (Act III.), exclaims—"Thou die! Thou kill my friend! or thou, or thou, or thou with that lean, withered, wretched face!"—an actor, selected for the purpose, of a most unfortunate figure and meagre visage, presented himself, and converted this fine passage into burlesque.

The play ofVenice Preservedhas been several times translated into French. Hallam observes that theManlius Capitolinusof Antoine de la Fosse, published in 1698, and imitated fromVenice Preserved, shows the influence which Otway exercised abroad. Upon himself the influence of contemporary French dramatists was in turn very marked. Lord Byron was certainly indebted to this play in hisMarino Faliero. An old French critic finds fault with the tolling of the bell in Act V. "This shocking extravagance, which in Paris would excite only contempt and derision, strikes the English with awe." How fashions change! Think of Victor Hugo andLucreziaBorgia!

Hallam remarked thatVenice Preservedhad been more frequently seen on the stage than any other play, except those of Shakespeare. He relates that when he saw it he was affected almost to agony. According to Mr. Archer (Reign of Victoria. Drama),Venice Preservedwas performed under Macready at Covent Garden between 1837 and 1839. It was revived at Sadler's Wells in 1845, with Phelps as Jaffier, and Mrs. Warner as Belvidera.

Madam,

Wereit possible for me to let the world know how entirely your Grace's goodness has devoted a poor man to your service; were there words enough in speech to express the mighty sense I have of your great bounty towards me, surely I should write and talk of it for ever: but your Grace has given me so large a theme, and laid so very vast a foundation, that imagination wants stock to build upon it. I am as one dumbwhen I would speak of it; and when I strive to write, I want a scale of thought sufficient to comprehend the height of it.

Forgive me, then, madam, if (as a poor peasant once made a present of an apple to an emperor) I bring this small tribute, the humble growth of my little garden, and lay it at your feet. Believe it is paid you with the utmost gratitude; believe that so long as I have thought to remember how very much I owe your generous nature, I will ever have a heart that shall be grateful for it too: your Grace, next Heaven, deserves it amply from me; that gave me life, but on a hard condition—till your extended favour taught me to prize the gift, and took the heavy burthen it was clogged with from me; I mean hard fortune. When I had enemies, that with malicious power kept back and shaded me from those royal beams whose warmth is all I have, or hope to live by, your noble pity and compassion found me, where I was far cast backward from my blessing, down in the rear of fortune; called me up, placed me in the shine, and I have felt its comfort. You have in that restored me to my native right; for a steady faith, and loyalty to my prince, was all the inheritance my father left me: and however hardly my ill fortune deal with me, 'tis what I prize so well that I ne'er pawned it yet, and hope I ne'er shall part with it.

Nature and fortune were certainly in league when you were born; and as the first took care to give you beauty enough to enslave the hearts of all the world, so the other resolved, to do its merit justice, that none but a monarch, fit to rule that world, should e'er possess it; and in it he had an empire. The young prince[61]you have given him, by his blooming virtues, early declares the mighty stock he came from; and as you have taken all the pious care of a dear mother and a prudent guardian to give him a noble and generous education, may it succeed according to his merits and your wishes: may he grow up to be a bulwark to his illustrious father, and a patron to his loyal subjects; with wisdom and learning to assist him, whenever called to his councils;to defend his right against the encroachments of republicans in his senates; to cherish such men as shall be able to vindicate the royal cause; that good and fit servants to the crown may never be lost for want of a protector. May he have courage and conduct, fit to fight his battles abroad, and terrify his rebels at home; and that all these may be yet more sure, may he never, during the spring-time of his years, when those growing virtues ought with care to be cherished, in order to their ripening;—may he never meet with vicious natures, or the tongues of faithless, sordid, insipid flatterers, to blast them. To conclude, may he be as great as the hand of fortune (with his honour) shall be able to make him; and may your Grace, who are so good a mistress, and so noble a patroness, never meet with a less grateful servant than,

Madam,Your Grace's entirelydevoted Creature,THOMAS OTWAY.

FOOTNOTES:[59]In the alteration of Shakespeare'sTempest, by Dryden and Davenant.[60]Louise de Kerouaille, Charles II.'s well-known mistress, who was sent over by Louis XIV., and who supplanted all Charles's other mistresses, except Nell Gwyn. Wealth and honours were heaped upon her, and her apartments at Whitehall were far more splendid, Evelyn tells us, than the queen's. She had, of course, many enemies, one of whom, in the same year in which Otway wrote this dedication, placed the following lines beneath her portrait:—"Lowly born and meanly bred,Yet of this nation is the head;For half Whitehall make her their court,Though the other half make her their sport.Monmouth's tower, Jeffery's advance,Foe to England, spy to France,False and foolish, proud and bold,Ugly, as you see, and old;In a word, her mighty GraceIs whore in all things but her face."She was, however, at this time not more than thirty-seven, and survived the king for fifty years.[61]Charles Lennox, created Duke of Richmond in 1675, and an ancestor of the present Duke.

[59]In the alteration of Shakespeare'sTempest, by Dryden and Davenant.

[60]Louise de Kerouaille, Charles II.'s well-known mistress, who was sent over by Louis XIV., and who supplanted all Charles's other mistresses, except Nell Gwyn. Wealth and honours were heaped upon her, and her apartments at Whitehall were far more splendid, Evelyn tells us, than the queen's. She had, of course, many enemies, one of whom, in the same year in which Otway wrote this dedication, placed the following lines beneath her portrait:—"Lowly born and meanly bred,Yet of this nation is the head;For half Whitehall make her their court,Though the other half make her their sport.Monmouth's tower, Jeffery's advance,Foe to England, spy to France,False and foolish, proud and bold,Ugly, as you see, and old;In a word, her mighty GraceIs whore in all things but her face."She was, however, at this time not more than thirty-seven, and survived the king for fifty years.

"Lowly born and meanly bred,Yet of this nation is the head;For half Whitehall make her their court,Though the other half make her their sport.Monmouth's tower, Jeffery's advance,Foe to England, spy to France,False and foolish, proud and bold,Ugly, as you see, and old;In a word, her mighty GraceIs whore in all things but her face."

She was, however, at this time not more than thirty-seven, and survived the king for fifty years.

[61]Charles Lennox, created Duke of Richmond in 1675, and an ancestor of the present Duke.

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