EnterOlivia,Eliza,andLettice.
Oliv.Ah, cousin, what a world 'tis we live in! I am so weary of it.
Eliza.Truly, cousin, I can find no fault with it, but that we cannot always live in't, for I can never be weary of it.
Oliv.O hideous! you cannot be in earnest sure, when you say you like the filthy world.
Eliza.You cannot be in earnest sure, when you say you dislike it.
Oliv.You are a very censorious creature, I find.
Eliza.I must confess, I think we women as often discover where we love by railing, as men when they lie by their swearing; and the world is but a constant keeping gallant, whom we fail not to quarrel with when anything crosses us, yet cannot part with't for our hearts.
Let.A gallant indeed, madam, whom ladies first make jealous, and then quarrel with it for being so; for if, by her indiscretion, a lady be talked of for a man, she cries presently, "'Tis a censorious world!" if by her vanity the intrigue be found out, "'Tis a prying malicious world!" if by her over-fondness the gallant proves unconstant, "'Tis a false world!" and if by her niggardlinessthe chambermaid tells, "'Tis a perfidious world!" But that, I'm sure, your ladyship cannot say of the world yet, as bad as 'tis.
Oliv.But I may say, "'Tis a very impertinent world!"—Hold your peace.—And, cousin, if the world be a gallant, 'tis such a one as is my aversion. Pray name it no more.
Eliza.But is it possible the world, which has such variety of charms for other women, can have none for you? Let's see—first, what d'ye think of dressing and fine clothes?
Oliv.Dressing! Fy, fy, 'tis my aversion.—[ToLettice.] But come hither, you dowdy; methinks you might have opened this toure better; O hideous! I cannot suffer it! D'ye see how't sits?
Eliza.Well enough, cousin, if dressing be your aversion.
Oliv.'Tis so: and for variety of rich clothes, they are more my aversion.
Let.Ay, 'tis because your ladyship wears 'em too long; for indeed a gown, like a gallant, grows one's aversion by having too much of it.
Oliv.Insatiable creature! I'll be sworn I have had this not above three days, cousin, and within this month have made some six more.
Eliza.Then your aversion to 'em is not altogether so great.
Oliv.Alas! 'tis for my woman only I wear 'em, cousin.
Let.If it be for me only, madam, pray do not wear 'em.
Eliza.But what d'ye think of visits—balls?
Oliv.O, I detest 'em!
Eliza.Of plays?
Oliv.I abominate 'em; filthy, obscene, hideous things.
Eliza.What say you to masquerading in the winter, and Hyde Park in the summer?
Oliv.Insipid pleasures I taste not.
Eliza.Nay, if you are are for more solid pleasures, what think you of a rich young husband?
Oliv.O horrid! marriage! what a pleasure you have found out! I nauseate it of all things.
Let.But what does your ladyship think then of a liberal handsome young lover?
Oliv.A handsome young fellow, you impudent! begone out of my sight. Name a handsome young fellow to me! foh, a hideous handsome young fellow I abominate! [Spits.
Eliza.Indeed! But let's see—will nothing please you? what d'ye think of the court?
Oliv.How, the court! the court, cousin! my aversion, my aversion, my aversion of all aversions!
Eliza.How, the court! where—
Oliv.Where sincerity is a quality as much out of fashion and as unprosperous as bashfulness: I could not laugh at a quibble, though it were a fat privy-counsellor's; nor praise a lord's ill verses, though I were myself the subject; nor an old lady's young looks, though I were her woman; nor sit to a vain young smile-maker, though he flattered me. In short, I could not glout[99]upon a man when he comes into a room, and laugh at him when he goes out; I cannot rail at the absent to flatter the standers-by; I—
Eliza.Well, but railing now is so common, that 'tis no more malice, but the fashion; and the absent think they are no more the worse for being railed at, than the present think they're the better for being flattered. And for the court—
Oliv.Nay, do not defend the court; for you'll make me rail at it like a trusting citizen's widow.
Eliza.Or like a Holborn lady, who could not get in to the last ball, or was out of countenance in the drawing-room the last Sunday of her appearance there. Fornone rail at the court but those who cannot get into it, or else who are ridiculous when they are there; and I shall suspect you were laughed at when you were last there, or would be a maid of honour.
Oliv.I a maid of honour! To be a maid of honour, were yet of all things my aversion.
Eliza.In what sense am I to understand you? But in fine, by the word aversion, I'm sure you dissemble; for I never knew woman yet used it who did not. Come, our tongues belie our hearts more than our pocket-glasses do our faces. But methinks we ought to leave off dissembling, since 'tis grown of no use to us; for all wise observers understand us now-a-days, as they do dreams, almanacs, and Dutch gazettes, by the contrary: and a man no more believes a woman, when she says she has an aversion for him, than when she says she'll cry out.
Oliv.O filthy! hideous! Peace, cousin, or your discourse will be my aversion: and you may believe me.
Eliza.Yes; for if anything be a woman's aversion, 'tis plain dealing from another woman: and perhaps that's your quarrel to the world; for that will talk, as your woman says.
Oliv.Talk? not of me sure; for what men do I converse with? what visits do I admit?
EnterBoy.
Boy.Here's the gentleman to wait upon you, madam.
Oliv.On me! you little unthinking fop; d'ye know what you say?
Boy.Yes, madam, 'tis the gentleman that comes every day to you, who—
Oliv.Hold your peace, you heedless little animal, and get you gone.—[ExitBoy.] This country boy, cousin, takes my dancing-master, tailor, or the spruce milliner, for visitors.
Let.No, madam; 'tis Mr. Novel, I'm sure, by his talking so loud: I know his voice too, madam.
Oliv.You know nothing, you buffle-headed stupid creature you: you would make my cousin believe I receive visits. But if it be Mr.—what did you call him?
Let.Mr. Novel, madam; he that—
Oliv.Hold your peace; I'll hear no more of him. But if it be your Mr.—(I cannot think of his name again) I suppose he has followed my cousin hither.
Eliza.No, cousin, I will not rob you of the honour of the visit: 'tis to you, cousin; for I know him not.
Oliv.Nor did I ever hear of him before, upon my honour, cousin; besides, han't I told you, that visits, and the business of visits, flattery and detraction, are my aversion? D'ye think then I would admit such a coxcomb as he is? who rather than not rail, will rail at the dead, whom none speak ill of; rather than not flatter, will flatter the poets of the age, whom none will flatter; who affects novelty as much as the fashion, and is as fantastical as changeable, and as well known as the fashion; who likes nothing but what is new, nay, would choose to have his friend or his title a new one. In fine, he is my aversion.
Eliza.I find you do know him, cousin; at least, have heard of him.
Oliv.Yes, now I remember. I have heard of him.
Eliza.Well; but since he is such a coxcomb, for Heaven's sake, let him not come up. Tell him, Mrs. Lettice, your lady is not within.
Oliv.No, Lettice, tell him my cousin is here, and that he may come up. For notwithstanding I detest the sight of him, you may like his conversation; and though I would use him scurvily, I will not be rude to you in my own lodging: since he has followed you hither, let him come up, I say.
Eliza.Very fine! pray let him go to the devil, I say,for me: I know him not, nor desire it. Send him away, Mrs. Lettice.
Oliv.Upon my word, she shan't: I must disobey your commands, to comply with your desires. Call him up, Lettice.
Eliza.Nay, I'll swear she shall not stir on that errand. [HoldsLettice.
Oliv.Well then, I'll call him myself for you, since you will have it so.—[Calls out at the door.] Mr. Novel, sir, sir!
EnterNovel.
Nov.Madam, I beg your pardon; perhaps you were busy: I did not think you had company with you.
Eliza.Yet he comes to me, cousin! [Aside toOlivia.
Oliv.Chairs there. [They sit.
Nov.Well; but, madam, d'ye know whence I come now?
Oliv.From some melancholy place, I warrant, sir, since they have lost your good company.
Eliza.So!
Nov.From a place where they have treated me at dinner with so much civility and kindness, a pox on them! that I could hardly get away to you, dear madam.
Oliv.You have a way with you so new and obliging, sir!
Eliza.You hate flattery, cousin! [Apart toOlivia.
Nov.Nay, faith, madam, d'ye think my way new? Then you are obliging, madam. I must confess, I hate imitation, to do anything like other people. All that know me do me the honour to say, I am an original, faith. But, as I was saying, madam, I have been treated to-day with all the ceremony and kindness imaginable at my Lady Autumn's. But, the nauseous old woman at the upper end of her table—
Oliv.Revives the old Grecian custom, of serving in a death's head with their banquets.
Nov.Ha! ha! fine, just, i'faith, nay, and new. 'Tis like eating with the ghost in "The Libertine:"[100]she would frighten a man from her dinner with her hollow invitations, and spoil one's stomach—
Oliv.To meat or women. I detest her hollow cherry cheeks: she looks like an old coach new painted; affecting an unseemly smugness, whilst she is ready to drop in pieces.
Eliza.You hate detraction, I see, cousin. [Apart toOlivia.
Nov.But the silly old fury, whilst she affects to look like a woman of this age, talks—
Oliv.Like one of the last; and as passionately as an old courtier who has outlived his office.
Nov.Yes, madam; but pray let me give you her character. Then she never counts her age by the years, but—
Oliv.By the masques she has lived to see.
Nov.Nay then, madam, I see you think a little harmless railing too great a pleasure for any but yourself; and therefore I've done.
Oliv.Nay, faith, you shall tell me who you had there at dinner.
Nov.If you would hear me, madam.
Oliv.Most patiently; speak, sir.
Nov.Then, we had her daughter—
Oliv.Ay, her daughter; the very disgrace to good clothes, which she always wears but to heighten her deformity, not mend it: for she is still most splendidly, gallantly ugly, and looks like an ill piece of daubing in a rich frame.
Nov.So! But have you done with her, madam? and can you spare her to me a little now?
Oliv.Ay, ay, sir.
Nov.Then, she is like—
Oliv.She is, you'd say, like a city bride; the greater fortune, but not the greater beauty, for her dress.
Nov.Well: yet have you done, madam? Then she—
Oliv.Then she bestows as unfortunately on her face all the graces in fashion, as the languishing eye, the hanging or pouting lip. But as the fool is never more provoking than when he aims at wit, the ill-favoured of our sex are never more nauseous than when they would be beauties, adding to their natural deformity the artificial ugliness of affectation.
Eliza.So, cousin, I find one may have a collection of all one's acquaintance's pictures as well at your house as at Mr. Lely's.[101]Only the difference is, there we find 'em much handsomer than they are, and like; here much uglier, and like: and you are the first of the profession of picture-drawing I ever knew without flattery.
Oliv.I draw after the life; do nobody wrong, cousin.
Eliza.No, you hate flattery and detraction.
Oliv.But, Mr. Novel, who had you besides at dinner?
Nov.Nay, the devil take me if I tell you, unless you will allow me the privilege of railing in my turn.—But, now I think on't, the women ought to be your province, as the men are mine: and you must know we had him whom—
Oliv.Him, whom—
Nov.What, invading me already? and giving the character before you know the man?
Eliza.No, that is not fair, though it be usual.
Oliv.I beg your pardon, Mr. Novel; pray go on.
Nov.Then, I say, we had that familiar coxcomb who is at home wheresoe'er he comes.
Oliv.Ay, that fool—
Nov.Nay then, madam, your servant; I'm gone.Taking the fool out of one's mouth is worse than taking the bread out of one's mouth.
Oliv.I've done; your pardon, Mr. Novel: pray proceed.
Nov.I say, the rogue, that he may be the only wit in company, will let nobody else talk, and—
Oliv.Ay, those fops who love to talk all themselves are of all things my aversion.
Nov.Then you'll let me speak, madam, sure. The rogue, I say, will force his jest upon you; and I hate a jest that's forced upon a man, as much as a glass.
Eliza.Why, I hope, sir, he does not expect a man of your temperance in jesting should do him reason?
Nov.What! interruption from this side too? I must then—[Offers to rise.Oliviaholds him.
Oliv.No, sir.—You must know, cousin, that fop he means, though he talks only to be commended, will not give you leave to do't.
Nov.But, madam—
Oliv.He a wit! Hang him; he's only an adopter of straggling jests and fatherless lampoons; by the credit of which he eats at good tables, and so, like the barren beggar-woman, lives by borrowed children.
Nov.Madam—
Oliv.And never was author of anything but his news; but that is still all his own.
Nov.Madam, pray—
Oliv.An eternal babbler; and makes no more use of his ears, than a man that sits at a play by his mistress, or in Fop-corner. He's, in fine, a base detracting fellow, and is my aversion.—But who else, prithee Mr. Novel, was there with you? Nay, you shan't stir.
Nov.I beg your pardon, madam; I cannot stay in any place where I'm not allowed a little Christian liberty of railing.
Oliv.Nay, prithee Mr. Novel, stay: and though you should rail at me, I would hear you with patience. Prithee, who else was there with you?
Nov.Your servant, madam.
Oliv.Nay, prithee tell us, Mr. Novel, prithee do.
Nov.We had nobody else.
Oliv.Nay, faith, I know you had. Come, my Lord Plausible was there too; who is, cousin, a—
Eliza.You need not tell me what he is, cousin; for I know him to be a civil, good-natured, harmless gentleman, that speaks well of all the world, and is always in good-humour; and—
Oliv.Hold, cousin, hold; I hate detraction. But I must tell you, cousin, his civility is cowardice, his good-nature want of wit; and he has neither courage nor sense to rail: and for his being always in humour, 'tis because he is never dissatisfied with himself. In fine, he is my aversion; and I never admit his visits beyond my hall.
Nov.No, he visit you! Damn him, cringing grinning rogue! if I should see him coming up to you, I would make bold to kick him down again.—Ha!
EnterLordPlausible.
My dear lord, your most humble servant. [Rises and salutesLordPlausible,and kisses him.
Eliza.So, I find kissing and railing succeed each other with the angry men as well as with the angry women; and their quarrels are like love-quarrels, since absence is the only cause of them; for as soon as the man appears again, they are over. [Aside.
L. Plau.Your most faithful humble servant, generous Mr. Novel. And, madam, I am your eternal slave, and kiss your fair hands; which I had done sooner, according to your commands, but—
Oliv.No excuses, my lord.
Eliza.What, you sent for him then, cousin? [Apart toOlivia.
Nov.Ha! invited! [Aside.
Oliv.I know you must divide yourself; for your goodcompany is too general a good to be engrossed by any particular friend.
L. Plau.O Lord, madam, my company! your most obliged, faithful, humble servant. But I could have brought you good company indeed; for I parted at your door with two of the worthiest, bravest men—
Oliv.Who were they, my lord?
Nov.Who do you call the worthiest, bravest men, pray?
L. Plau.O, the wisest, bravest gentlemen! men of such honour and virtue! of such good qualities! ah—
Eliza.This is a coxcomb that speaks ill of all people a different way, and libels everybody with dull praise, and commonly in the wrong place; so makes his panegyrics abusive lampoons. [Aside.
Oliv.But pray let me know who they were?
L. Plau.Ah! such patterns of heroic virtue! such—
Nov.Well: but who the devil were they?
L. Plau.The honour of our nation! the glory of our age! Ah, I could dwell a twelvemonth on their praise; which indeed I might spare by telling their names; Sir John Current and Sir Richard Court-Title.
Nov.Court-Title! ha! ha!
Oliv.And Sir John Current! Why will you keep such a wretch company, my lord?
L. Plau.O madam, seriously you are a little too severe; for he is a man of unquestioned reputation in everything.
Oliv.Yes, because he endeavours only with the women to pass for a man of courage, and with the bullies for a wit; with the wits for a man of business, and with the men of business for a favourite at court; and at court for city security.
Nov.And for Sir Richard, he—
L. Plau.He loves your choice picked company, persons that—
Oliv.He loves a lord indeed; but—
Nov.Pray, dear madam, let me have but a bold stroke or two at his picture. He loves a lord, as you say, though—
Oliv.Though he borrowed his money, and ne'er paid him again.
Nov.And would bespeak a place three days before at the back-end of a lord's coach to Hyde Park.
L. Plau.Nay, i'faith, i'faith, you are both too severe.
Oliv.Then to show yet more his passion for quality, he makes love to that fulsome coach-load of honour, my Lady Goodly, for he's always at her lodging.
L. Plau.Because it is the conventicle-gallant, the meeting-house of all the fair ladies, and glorious superfine beauties of the town.
Nov.Very fine ladies! there's first—
Oliv.Her honour, as fat as an hostess.
L. Plau.She is something plump indeed, a goodly, comely, graceful person.
Nov.Then there's my Lady Frances—what d'ye call her? as ugly—
Oliv.As a citizen's lawfully begotten daughter.
L. Plau.She has wit in abundance, and the handsomest heel, elbow, and tip of an ear, you ever saw.
Nov.Heel and elbow! ha! ha! And there's my Lady Betty, you know—
Oliv.As sluttish and slatternly as an Irish woman bred in France.
L. Plau.Ah! all she has hangs with a loose air, indeed, and becoming negligence.
Eliza.You see all faults with lovers' eyes, I find, my lord.
L. Plau.Ah, madam, your most obliged, faithful, humble servant to command! But you can say nothing sure against the superfine mistress—
Oliv.I know who you mean. She is as censorious and detracting a jade as a superannuated sinner.
L. Plau.She has a smart way of raillery, 'tis confessed.
Nov.And then for Mrs. Grideline—
L. Plau.She, I'm sure is—
Oliv.One that never spoke ill of anybody, 'tis confessed. For she is as silent in conversation as a country lover, and no better company than a clock, or a weather-glass: for if she sounds, 'tis but once an hour to put you in mind of the time of day, or to tell you 'twill be cold or hot, rain or snow.
L. Plau.Ah, poor creature! she's extremely good and modest.
Nov.And for Mrs. Bridlechin, she's—
Oliv.As proud as a churchman's wife.
L. Plau.She's a woman of great spirit and honour, and will not make herself cheap, 'tis true.
Nov.Then Mrs. Hoyden, that calls all people by their surnames, and is—
Oliv.As familiar a duck—
Nov.As an actress in the tiring room. There I was once beforehand with you, madam.
L. Plau.Mrs. Hoyden! a poor, affable, good-natured soul. But the divine Mrs. Trifle comes thither too. Sure her beauty, virtue, and conduct, you can say nothing to.
Oliv.No!
Nov.No!—Pray let me speak, madam.
Oliv.First, can any one be called beautiful that squints?
L. Plau.Her eyes languish a little, I own.
Nov.Languish! ha! ha!
Oliv.Languish!—Then, for her conduct, she was seen at the "Country Wife" after the first day. There's for you, my lord.
L. Plau.But, madam, she was not seen to use her fan all the play long, turn aside her head, or by a conscious blush discover more guilt than modesty.
Oliv.Very fine! Then you think a woman modest that sees the hideous "Country Wife" without blushing or publishing her detestation of it? D'ye hear him, cousin?
Eliza.Yes, and am, I must confess, something of his opinion; and think, that as an over-conscious fool at a play, by endeavouring to show the author's want of wit, exposes his own to more censure, so may a lady call her own modesty in question, by publicly cavilling with the poet's. For all those grimaces of honour and artificial modesty disparage a woman's real virtue, as much as the use of white and red does the natural complexion: and you must use very, very little, if you would have it thought your own.
Oliv.Then you would have a woman of honour with passive looks, ears, and tongue, undergo all the hideous obscenity she hears at nasty plays.
Eliza.Truly, I think a woman betrays her want of modesty, by showing it publicly in a playhouse, as much as a man does his want of courage by a quarrel there; for the truly modest and stout say least, and are least exceptious, especially in public.
Oliv.O hideous, cousin! this cannot be your opinion. But you are one of those who have the confidence to pardon the filthy play.
Eliza.Why, what is there of ill in't, say you?
Oliv.O fy! fy! fy! would you put me to the blush anew? call all the blood into my face again? But to satisfy you then; first, the clandestine obscenity in the very name of Horner.
Eliza.Truly, 'tis so hidden, I cannot find it out, I confess.
Oliv.O horrid! Does it not give you the rank conception or image of a goat, or town-bull, or a satyr? nay, what is yet a filthier image than all the rest, that of an eunuch?
Eliza.What then? I can think of a goat, a bull, or a satyr, without any hurt.
Oliv.Ay: but cousin, one cannot stop there.
Eliza.I can, cousin.
Oliv.O no; for when you have those filthy creaturesin your head once, the next thing you think, is what they do; as their defiling of honest men's beds and couches, rapes upon sleeping and waking country virgins under hedges, and on haycocks. Nay, farther—
Eliza.Nay, no farther, cousin. We have enough of your comment on the play, which will make me more ashamed than the play itself.
Oliv.O, believe me, 'tis a filthy play! and you may take my word for a filthy play as soon as another's. But the filthiest thing in that play, or any other play, is—
Eliza.Pray keep it to yourself, if it be so.
Oliv.No, faith, you shall know it; I'm resolved to make you out of love with the play. I say, the lewdest, filthiest thing is his china; nay, I will never forgive the beastly author his china. He has quite taken away the reputation of poor china itself, and sullied the most innocent and pretty furniture of a lady's chamber; insomuch that I was fain to break all my defiled vessels. You see I have none left; nor you, I hope.
Eliza.You'll pardon me, I cannot think the worse of my china for that of the playhouse.
Oliv.Why, you will not keep any now, sure! 'Tis now as unfit an ornament for a lady's chamber as the pictures that come from Italy and other hot countries; as appears by their nudities, which I always cover, or scratch out, whereso'er I find 'em. But china! out upon't, filthy china! nasty debauched china!
Eliza.All this will not put me out of conceit with china, nor the play, which is acted to-day, or another of the same beastly author's, as you call him, which I'll go see.
Oliv.You will not, sure! nay, you sha' not venture your reputation by going, and mine by leaving me alone with two men here: nay, you'll disoblige me for ever, if—[Pulls her back.
Eliza.I stay!—your servant. [Exit.
Oliv.Well—but, my lord, though you justify everybody, you cannot in earnest uphold so beastly a writer, whose ink is so smutty as one may say.
L. Plau.Faith, I dare swear the poor man did not think to disoblige the ladies, by any amorous, soft, passionate, luscious saying in his play.
Oliv.Fy, my lord! But what think you, Mr. Novel, of the play? though I know you are a friend to all that are new.
Nov.Faith, madam, I must confess, the new plays would not be the worse for my advice, but I could never get the silly rogues, the poets, to mind what I say; but I'll tell you what counsel I gave the surly fool you spake of.
Oliv.What was't?
Nov.Faith, to put his play into rhyme; for rhyme, you know, often makes mystical nonsense pass with the critics for wit, and a double-meaning saying with the ladies, for soft, tender, and moving passion. But now I talk of passion, I saw your old lover this morning—Captain—[Whispers.
EnterManly, Freeman,andFideliastanding behind.
Oliv.Whom?—nay, you need not whisper.
Man.We are luckily got hither unobserved!—How! in a close conversation with these supple rascals, the outcasts of sempstresses' shops!
Free.Faith, pardon her, captain, that, since she could no longer be entertained with your manly bluntness and honest love, she takes up with the pert chat and commonplace flattery of these fluttering parrots of the town, apes and echoes of men only.
Man.Do not you, sir, play the echo too, mock me, dally with my own words, and show yourself as impertinent as they are.
Free.Nay, captain—
Fid.Nay, lieutenant, do not excuse her; methinks shelooks very kindly upon 'em both, and seems to be pleased with what that fool there says to her.
Man.You lie, sir! and hold your peace, that I may not be provoked to give you a worse reply.
Oliv.Manly returned, d'ye say! and is he safe?
Nov.My lord saw him too.—Hark you, my lord. [Whispers toLordPlausible.
Man.She yet seems concerned for my safety, and perhaps they are admitted now here but for their news of me: for intelligence indeed is the common passport of nauseous fools, when they go their round of good tables and houses. [Aside.
Oliv.I heard of his fighting only, without particulars, and confess I always loved his brutal courage, because it made me hope it might rid me of his more brutal love.
Man.What's that? [Aside.
Oliv.But is he at last returned, d'ye say, unhurt?
Nov.Ay, faith, without doing his business; for the rogue has been these two years pretending to a wooden leg, which he would take from fortune as kindly as the staff of a marshal of France, and rather read his name in a gazette—
Oliv.Than in the entail of a good estate.
Man.So! [Aside.
Nov.I have an ambition, I must confess, of losing my heart before such a fair enemy us yourself, madam; but that silly rogues should be ambitious of losing their arms, and—
Oliv.Looking like a pair of compasses.
Nov.But he has no use of his arms but to set 'em on kimbow, for he never pulls off his hat, at least not to me, I'm sure; for you must know, madam, he has a fanatical hatred to good company: he can't abide me.
L. Plau.O, be not so severe to him, as to say he hates good company: for I assure you he has a great respect, esteem and kindness for me.
Man.That kind, civil rogue has spoken yet ten thousand times worse of me than t'other. [Aside.
Oliv.Well, if he be returned, Mr. Novel, then shall I be pestered again with his boisterous sea-love; have my alcove smell like a cabin, my chamber perfumed with his tarpaulin Brandenburgh; and hear volleys of brandy-sighs, enough to make a fog in one's room. Foh! I hate a lover that smells like Thames Street!
Man.[Aside.] I can bear no longer, and need hear no more.—[ToOlivia.] But since you have these two pulvillio[102]boxes, these essence-bottles, this pair of musk-cats here, I hope I may venture to come yet nearer you.
Oliv.Overheard us then!
Nov.I hope he heard me not. [Aside.
L. Plau.Most noble and heroic captain, your most obliged, faithful, humble servant.
Nov.Dear tar, thy humble servant.
Man.Away!—[ThrustsNovelandLordPlausibleon each side.] Madam—
Oliv.Nay, I think I have fitted[103]you for listening.
Man.You have fitted me for believing you could not be fickle, though you were young; could not dissemble love, though 'twas your interest; nor be vain, though you were handsome; nor break your promise, though to a parting lover; nor abuse your best friend, though you had wit: but I take not your contempt of me worse than your esteem, or civility for these things here, though you know 'em.
Nov.Things!
L. Plau.Let the captain rally a little.
Man.Yes, things! Canst thou be angry, thou thing? [Coming up toNovel.
Nov.No, since my lord says you speak in raillery; for though your sea-raillery be something rough, yet, I confess,we use one another too as bad every day at Locket's,[104]and never quarrel for the matter.
L. Plau.Nay, noble captain, be not angry with him.—A word with you, I beseech you—[Whispers toManly.
Oliv.Well, we women, like the rest of the cheats of the world, when our cullies or creditors have found us out, and will or can trust no longer, pay debts and satisfy obligations with a quarrel, the kindest present a man can make to his mistress, when he can make no more presents. For oftentimes in love, as at cards, we are forced to play foul, only to give over the game; and use our lovers like the cards, when we can get no more by them, throw 'em up in a pet upon the first dispute. [Aside.
Man.My lord, all that you have made me know by your whispering, which I knew not before, is, that you have a stinking breath; there's a secret for your secret.
L. Plau.Pshaw! pshaw!
Man.But, madam, tell me, pray, what was't about this spark could take you? Was it the merit of his fashionable impudence; the briskness of his noise, the wit of his laugh, his judgment, or fancy in his garniture? or was it a well-trimmed glove, or the scent of it, that charmed you?
Nov.Very well, sir: 'gad these sea captains make nothing of dressing. But let me tell you, sir, a man by his dress, as much as by anything, shows his wit and judgment; nay, and his courage too.
Free.How, his courage, Mr. Novel?
Nov.Why, for example, by red breeches, tucked-up hair or peruke, a greasy broad belt, and now-a-days a short sword.
Man.Thy courage will appear more by thy belt than thy sword, I dare swear.—Then, madam, for this gentle piece of courtesy, this man of tame honour, what couldyou find in him? Was it his languishing affected tone? his mannerly look? his second-hand flattery? the refuse of the playhouse tiring-rooms? or his slavish obsequiousness in watching at the door of your box at the playhouse, for your hand to your chair? or his jaunty way of playing with your fan? or was it the gunpowder spot on his hand, or the jewel in his ear, that purchased your heart?
Oliv.Good jealous captain, no more of your—
L. Plau.No, let him go on, madam, for perhaps he may make you laugh: and I would contribute to your pleasure any way.
Man.Gentle rogue!
Oliv.No, noble captain, you cannot sure think anything could take me more than that heroic title of yours, captain; for you know we women love honour inordinately.
Nov.Ha! ha! faith, she is with thee, bully, for thy raillery.
Man.Faith, so shall I be with you, no bully, for your grinning. [Aside toNovel.
Oliv.Then that noble lion-like mien of yours, that soldier-like, weather-beaten complexion, and that manly roughness of your voice; how can they otherwise than charm us women, who hate effeminacy!
Nov.Ha! ha! faith I can't hold from laughing.
Man.Nor shall I from kicking anon. [Aside toNovel.
Oliv.And then, that captain-like carelessness in your dress, but especially your scarf; 'twas just such another, only a little higher tied, made me in love with my tailor as he passed by my window the last training-day; for we women adore a martial man, and you have nothing wanting to make you more one, or more agreeable, but a wooden leg.
L. Plau.Nay, i'faith, there your ladyship was a wag, and it was fine, just, and well rallied.
Nov.Ay, ay, madam, with you ladies too, martial men must needs be very killing.
Man.Peace, you Bartholomew-fair buffoons! And be not you vain that these laugh on your side, for they will laugh at their own dull jests; but no more of 'em, for I will only suffer now this lady to be witty and merry.
Oliv.You would not have your panegyric interrupted. I go on then to your humour. Is there anything more agreeable than the pretty sullenness of that? than the greatness of your courage, which most of all appears in your spirit of contradiction? for you dare give all mankind the lie; and your opinion is your only mistress, for you renounce that too, when it becomes another man's.[105]
Nov.Ha! ha! I cannot hold, I must laugh at thee, tar, faith!
L. Plau.And i'faith, dear captain, I beg your pardon, and leave to laugh at you too, though I protest I mean you no hurt; but when a lady rallies, a stander-by must be complaisant, and do her reason in laughing: ha! ha!
Man.Why, you impudent, pitiful wretches, you presume sure upon your effeminacy to urge me; for you are in all things so like women, that you may think it in me a kind of cowardice to beat you.
Oliv.No hectoring, good captain.
Man.Or, perhaps, you think this lady's presence secures you; but have a care, she has talked herself out of all the respect I had for her; and by using me ill before you, has given me a privilege of using you so before her; but if you would preserve your respect to her, and not be beaten before her, go, begone immediately.
Nov.Begone! what?
L. Plau.Nay, worthy, noble, generous, captain—
Man.Begone, I say!
Nov.Begone again! to us begone!
Man.No chattering, baboons, instantly begone, or—[Puts them out of the room:Novelstruts,LordPlausiblecringes.
Nov.Well, madam, we'll go make the cards ready in your bedchamber: sure you will not stay long with him. [ExeuntLordPlausibleandNovel.
Oliv.Turn hither your rage, good captain Swaggerhuff, and be saucy with your mistress, like a true captain; but be civil to your rivals and betters, and do not threaten anything but me here; no, not so much as my windows; nor do not think yourself in the lodgings of one of your suburb mistresses beyond the Tower.
Man.Do not give me cause to think so; for those less infamous women part with their lovers, just as you did from me, with unforced vows of constancy and floods of willing tears; but the same winds bear away their lovers and their vows: and for their grief, if the credulous unexpected fools return, they find new comforters, fresh cullies, such as I found here. The mercenary love of those women too suffers shipwreck with their gallants' fortunes; now you have heard chance has used me scurvily, therefore you do too. Well, persevere in your ingratitude, falsehood, and disdain; have constancy in something, and I promise you to be as just to your real scorn as I was to your feigned love; and henceforward will despise, contemn, hate, loathe, and detest you most faithfully.
EnterLettice.
Oliv.Get the ombre-cards ready in the next room, Lettice, and—[Whispers toLettice,who goes out.
Free.Bravely resolved, captain!
Fid.And you'll be sure to keep your word, I hope, sir?
Man.I hope so too.
Fid.Do you but hope it, sir? If you are not as good as your word, 'twill be the first time you ever bragged, sure.
Man.She has restored my reason with my heart.
Free.But now you talk of restoring, captain, there are other things, which next to one's heart one would not part with; I mean your jewels and money, which it seems she has, sir.
Man.What's that to you, sir?
Free.Pardon me, whatsoever is yours I have a share in't I'm sure, which I will not lose for asking, though you may be too generous or too angry now to do't yourself.
Fid.Nay, then I'll make bold to make my claim too. [Both going towardsOlivia.
Man.Hold, you impertinent, officious fops—[Aside.] How have I been deceived!
Free.Madam, there are certain appurtenances to a lover's heart, called jewels, which always go along with it.
Fid.And which, with lovers, have no value in themselves, but from the heart they come with. Our captain's, madam, it seems you scorn to keep, and much more will those worthless things without it, I am confident.
Oliv.A gentleman so well made as you are, may be confident—us easy women could not deny you anything you ask, if 'twere for yourself, but, since 'tis for another, I beg your leave to give him my answer.—[Aside.] An agreeable young fellow this—and would not be my aversion.—[Aloud.] Captain, your young friend here has a very persuading face, I confess; yet you might have asked me yourself for those trifles you left with me, which (hark you a little, for I dare trust you with the secret; you are a man of so much honour, I'm sure) I say then, not expecting your return, or hoping ever to see you again, I have delivered your jewels to—
Man.Whom?
Oliv.My husband.
Man.Your husband!
Oliv.Ay, my husband. For since you could leave me, I am lately and privately married to one, who is a man ofso much honour and experience in the world, that I dare not ask him for your jewels again to restore 'em to you; lest he should conclude you never would have parted with 'em to me on any other score but the exchange of my honour: which rather than you'd let me lose, you'd lose I'm sure yourself, those trifles of yours.
Man.Triumphant impudence! but married too!
Oliv.O, speak not so loud, my servants know it not: I am married, there's no resisting one's destiny or love, you know.
Man.Why, did you love him too?
Oliv.Most passionately; nay, love him now, though I have married him, and he me: which mutual love I hope you are too good, too generous a man to disturb, by any future claim, or visits to me. 'Tis true, he is now absent in the country, but returns shortly; therefore I beg of you, for your own ease and quiet, and my honour, you will never see me more.
Man.I wish I never had seen you.
Oliv.But if you should ever have anything to say to me hereafter, let that young gentleman there be your messenger.
Man.You would be kinder to him; I find he should be welcome.
Oliv.Alas! his youth would keep my husband from suspicions, and his visits from scandal; for we women may have pity for such as he, but no love: and I already think you do not well to spirit him away to sea; and the sea is already but too rich with the spoils of the shore.
Man.True perfect woman! If I could say anything more injurious to her now, I would; for I could outrail a bilked whore, or a kicked coward; but now I think on't, that were rather to discover my love than hatred; and I must not talk, for something I must do. [Aside.
Oliv.I think I have given him enough of me now, never to be troubled with him again. [Aside.
Re-enterLettice.
Well, Lettice, are the cards and all ready within? I come then.—Captain, I beg your pardon: you will not make one at ombre?
Man.No, madam, but I'll wish you a little good luck before you go.
Oliv.No, if you would have me thrive, curse me: for that you'll do heartily, I suppose.
Man.Then if you will have it so, may all the curses light upon you, women ought to fear, and you deserve!—First, may the curse of loving play attend your sordid covetousness, and fortune cheat you, by trusting to her, as you have cheated me; the curse of pride, or a good reputation, fall on your lust; the curse of affectation on your beauty; the curse of your husband's company on your pleasures; and the curse of your gallant's disappointments in his absence; and the curse of scorn, jealousy, or despair on your love; and then the curse of loving on!
Oliv.And to requite all your curses, I will only return you your last; may the curse of loving me still fall upon your proud hard heart, that could be so cruel to me in these horrid curses! but heaven forgive you! [Exit.
Man.Hell and the devil reward thee!
Free.Well, you see now, mistresses, like friends, are lost by letting 'em handle your money; and most women are such kind of witches, who can have no power over a man, unless you give 'em money: but when once they have got any from you, they never leave you till they have all. Therefore I never give a woman a farthing.
Man.Well, there is yet this comfort by losing one's money with one's mistress, a man is out of danger of getting another; of being made prize again by love, who, like a pirate, takes you by spreading false colours: but when once you have run your ship a-ground, thetreacherous picaroon[106]loofs; so by your ruin you save yourself from slavery at least.
EnterBoy.
Boy.Mrs. Lettice, here's Madam Blackacre come to wait upon her honour. [ExeuntLetticeandBoy.
Man.D'ye hear that? Let us be gone before she comes: for henceforth I'll avoid the whole damned sex for ever, and woman as a sinking ship. [ExeuntManlyandFidelia.
Free.And I'll stay, to revenge on her your quarrel to the sex: for out of love to her jointure, and hatred to business, I would marry her, to make an end of her thousand suits, and my thousand engagements, to the comfort of two unfortunate sort of people, my plaintiffs and her defendants, my creditors and her adversaries.
EnterWidowBlackacre,led in byMajorOldfox,andJerry Blackacrefollowing, laden with green bags.
Wid.'Tis an arrant sea-ruffian; but I am glad I met with him at last, to serve him again, major; for the last service was not good in law. Boy, duck, Jerry, where is my paper of memorandums? Give me, child: so. Where is my cousin Olivia now, my kind relation?
Free.Here is one that would be your kind relation, madam.
Wid.What mean you, sir?
Free.Why, faith, (to be short) to marry you, widow.
Wid.Is not this the wild rude person we saw at Captain Manly's?
Jer.Ay, forsooth, an't please.
Wid.What would you? what are you? Marry me!
Free.Ay, faith; for I am a younger brother, and you are a widow.
Wid.You are an impertinent person; and go about your business.
Free.I have none, but to marry thee, widow.
Wid.But I have other business, I'd have you to know.
Free.But you have no business a-nights, widow; and I'll make you pleasanter business than any you have. For a-nights, I assure you, I am a man of great business; for the business—
Wid.Go, I'm sure you're an idle fellow.
Free.Try me but, widow, and employ me as you find my abilities and industry.
Old.Pray be civil to the lady, Mr.——she is a person of quality, a person that is no person—
Free.Yes, but she's a person that is a widow. Be you mannerly to her, because you are to pretend only to be her squire, to arm her to her lawyer's chambers; but I will be impudent and bawdy; for she must love and marry me.
Wid.Marry come up, you saucy familiar Jack! You think, with us widows, 'tis no more than up, and ride. Gad forgive me! now-a-days, every idle, young, hectoring, roaring companion, with a pair of turned red breeches, and a broad back, thinks to carry away any widow of the best degree. But I'd have you to know, sir, all widows are not got, like places at court, by impudence and importunity only.
Old.No, no, soft, soft, you are a young man, and not fit—
Free.For a widow? yes sure, old man, the fitter.
Old.Go to, go to; if others had not laid in their claims before you—
Free.Not you, I hope.
Old.Why not I, sir? sure I am a much more proportionable match for her than you, sir; I, who am an elder brother, of a comfortable fortune, and of equal years with her.
Wid.How's that, you unmannerly person? I'd have you to know, I was born but inAnn' undec' Caroli prim'.
Old.Your pardon, lady, your pardon: be not offended with your very humble servant—But, I say, sir, you are a beggarly younger brother, twenty years younger than her, without any land or stock, but your great stock of impudence: therefore what pretension can you have to her?
Free.You have made it for me: first, because I am a younger brother.
Wid.Why, is that a sufficient plea to a relict? how appears it, sir? by what foolish custom?
Free.By custom time out of mind only. Then, sir, because I have nothing to keep me after her death, I am the likelier to take care of her life. And for my being twenty years younger than her, and having a sufficient stock of impudence, I leave it to her whether they will be valid exceptions to me in her widow's law or equity.
Old.Well, she has been so long in chancery, that I'll stand to her equity and decree between us. Come, lady, pray snap up this young snap[107]at first, or we shall be troubled with him. Give him a city-widow's answer, that is, with all the ill-breeding imaginable.—[Aside toWidowBlackacre.] Come, madam.
Wid.Well then, to make an end of this foolish wooing, for nothing interrupts business more: first for you, major—
Old.You declare in my favour, then?
Free.What, direct the court! come, young lawyer, thou shalt be a counsel for me. [ToJerry.
Jer.Gad, I shall betray your cause then, as well as an older lawyer; never stir.
Wid.First, I say, for you, major, my walking hospital of an ancient foundation; thou bag of mummy, that wouldst fall asunder, if 'twere not for thy cerecloths—
Old.How, lady!
Free.Ha! ha!—
Jer.Hey, brave mother! use all suitors thus, for my sake.
Wid.Thou withered, hobbling, distorted cripple; nay, thou art a cripple all over: wouldst thou make me the staff of thy age, the crutch of thy decrepidness? me—
Free.Well said, widow! Faith, thou wouldst make a man love thee now, without dissembling.
Wid.Thou senseless, impertinent, quibbling, drivelling, feeble, paralytic, impotent, fumbling, frigid nincompoop!
Jer.Hey, brave mother, for calling of names, i'fac!
Wid.Wouldst thou make a caudle-maker, a nurse of me? can't you be bedrid without a bed-fellow? won't your swan-skins, furs, flannels, and the scorched trencher, keep you warm there? would you have me your Scotch warming-pan,[108]with a pox to you! me—
Old.O Heavens!
Free.I told you I should be thought the fitter man, major.
Jer.Ay, you old fobus, and you would have been my guardian, would you, to have taken care of my estate, that half of't should never come to me, by letting long leases at pepper-corn rents?
Wid.If I would have married an old man, 'tis well known I might have married an earl, nay, what's more, a judge, and been covered the winter nights with the lambskins, which I prefer to the ermines of nobles. And dost thou think I would wrong my poor minor there for you?
Free.Your minor is a chopping minor, God bless him! [StrokesJerryon the head.
Old.Your minor may be a major of horse or foot, for his bigness; and it seems you will have the cheating of your minor to yourself.
Wid.Pray, sir, bear witness:—cheat my minor! I'll bring my action of the case for the slander.
Free.Nay, I would bear false witness for thee now,widow, since you have done me justice, and have thought me the fitter man for you.
Wid.Fair and softly, sir, 'tis my minor's case, more than my own; and I must do him justice now on you.
Free.How!
Old.So then.
Wid.You are, first, (I warrant,) some renegado from the inns of court and the law; and thou'lt come to suffer for't by the law, that is, be hanged.
Jer.Not about your neck, forsooth, I hope.
Free.But, madam—
Old.Hear the court.
Wid.Thou art some debauched, drunken, lewd, hectoring, gaming companion, and wantest some widow's old gold to nick[109]upon; but I thank you, sir, that's for my lawyers.
Free.Faith, we should ne'er quarrel about that; for guineas would serve my turn.[110]But, widow—
Wid.Thou art a foul-mouthed boaster of thy lust, a mere bragadochio of thy strength for wine and women, and wilt belie thyself more than thou dost women, and art every way a base deceiver of women; and would deceive me too, would you?
Free.Nay, faith, widow, this is judging without seeing the evidence.
Wid.I say, you are a worn-out whoremaster at five-and-twenty, both in body and fortune, and cannot be trusted by the common wenches of the town, lest you should not pay 'em; nor by the wives of the town lest you should pay 'em: so you want women, and would have me your bawd to procure 'em for you.
Free.Faith, if you had any good acquaintance, widow, 'twould be civilly done of thee; for I am just come from sea.
Wid.I mean, you would have me keep you, that you might turn keeper; for poor widows are only used like bawds by you; you go to church with us, but to get other women to lie with. In fine, you are a cheating, cozening spendthrift; and having sold your own annuity, would waste my jointure.
Jer.And make havoc of our estate personal, and all our gilt plate; I should soon be piling up all our mortgaged apostle-spoons, bowls, and beakers, out of most of the ale-houses betwixt Hercules-pillars[111]and the Boatswain in Wapping; nay, and you'd be scouring amongst my trees, and make 'em knock down one another, like routed reeling watchmen at midnight; would you so, bully?
Free.Nay, prithee, widow, hear me.
Wid.No, sir; I'd have you to know, thou pitiful, paltry, lath-backed fellow, if I would have married a young man, 'tis well known I could have had any young heir in Norfolk, nay, the hopefullest young man this day at the King's-bench bar; I that am a relict and executrix of known plentiful assets and parts, who understand myself and the law. And would you have me under covert-baron[112]again? No, sir, no covert-baron for me.
Free.But, dear widow, hear me. I value you only, not your jointure.
Wid.Nay, sir, hold there; I know your love to a widow is covetousness of her jointure: and a widow, a little stricken in years, with a good jointure, is like an old mansion-house in a good purchase, never valued, but take one, take t'other: and perhaps, when you are in possession, you'd neglect it, let it drop to the ground, for want of necessary repairs or expenses upon't.
Free.No, widow, one would be sure to keep all tight, when one is to forfeit one's lease by dilapidation.
Wid.Fy! fy! I neglect my business with this foolish discourse of love. Jerry, child, let me see the list of the jury: I'm sure my cousin Olivia has some relations amongst them. But where is she?
Free.Nay, widow, but hear me one word only.
Wid.Nay, sir, no more, pray. I will no more hearken to your foolish love-motions, than to offers of arbitration. [ExeuntWidowBlackacreandJerry.
Free.Well, I'll follow thee yet; for he that has a pretension at court, or to a widow, must never give over for a little ill-usage.
Old.Therefore, I'll get her by assiduity, patience, and long sufferings, which you will not undergo; for you idle young fellows leave off love when it comes to be business; and industry gets more women than love.
Free.Ay, industry, the fool's and old man's merit.—But I'll be industrious too, and make a business on't, and get her by law, wrangling, and contests, and not by sufferings: and, because you are no dangerous rival, I'll give thee counsel, major:—
If you litigious widow e'er would gain,Sigh not to her, but by the law complain;To her, as to a bawd, defendant sueWith statutes, and make justice pimp for you.
[Exeunt.