Love in a Woodwas registered at Stationers' Hall on the 6th of October, 1671, and was published in the following year.
Madam,
All authors whatever in their dedication are poets; but I am now to write to a lady who stands as little in need of flattery, as her beauty of art; otherwise I should prove as ill a poet to her in my dedication, as to my reader in my play. I can do your Grace no honour, nor make you more admirers than you have already; yet I can do myself the honour to let the world know I am the greatest you have. You will pardon me, Madam, for you know it is very hard for a new author, and poet too, to govern his ambition: for poets, let them pass in the world ever so much for modest, honest men, but begin praise to others which concludes in themselves; and are like rooks, who lend people money but to win it back again, and so leave them in debt to 'em for nothing; they offer laurel and incense to their heroes, but wear it themselves, and perfume themselves. This is true, Madam, upon the honest word of an author who never yet writ dedication. Yet though I cannot lie like them, I am as vain as they; and cannot but publicly give your Grace my humble acknowledgments for the favours I have received from you:—this, I say, is the poet's gratitude, which, in plain English, is only pride and ambition; and that the world might know your Grace did me the honour to see my play twice together. Yet, perhaps, my enviers of your favour will suggest 'twas in Lent, and therefore for your mortification. Then, as a jealous author, I am concerned not to have your Grace's favours lessened, or rather my reputation;and to let them know, you were pleased, after that, to command a copy from me of this play;—the only way, without beauty and wit, to win a poor poet's heart.
'Tis a sign your Grace understands nothing better than obliging all the world after the best and most proper manner. But, Madam, to be obliging to that excess as you are (pardon me, if I tell you, out of my extreme concern and service for your Grace) is a dangerous quality, and may be very incommode to you; for civility makes poets as troublesome, as charity makes beggars; and your Grace will be hereafter as much pestered with such scurvy offerings as this, poems, panegyrics, and the like, as you are now with petitions: and, Madam, take it from me, no man with papers in 's hand is more dreadful than a poet; no, not a lawyer with his declarations. Your Grace sure did not well consider what ye did, in sending for my play: you little thought I would have had the confidence to send you a dedication too. But, Madam, you find I am as unreasonable, and have as little conscience, as if I had driven the poetic trade longer than I have, and ne'er consider you had enough of the play. But (having suffered now so severely) I beseech your Grace, have a care for the future; take my counsel, and be (if you can possible) as proud and ill-natured as other people of quality, since your quiet is so much concerned, and since you have more reason than any to value yourself:—for you have that perfection of beauty (without thinking it so) which others of your sex but think they have; that generosity in your actions which others of your quality have only in their promises; that spirit, wit and judgment, and all other qualifications which fit heroes to command, and would make any but your Grace proud. I begin now, elevated by my subject, to write with the emotion and fury of a poet, yet the integrity of an historian; and I could never be weary—nay, sure this were my only way to make my readers never weary too, though they were a more impatient generation of people than they are. In fine, speaking thus of your Grace, I should please all the world but you; therefore I must once observe and obey you against my will, and say no more, than that I am,
Madam,
Your Grace's most obliged, and most humble servant,
William Wycherley.
Custom, which bids the thief from cart harangueAll those that come to make and see him hang,Wills the damned poet (though he knows he's gone)To greet you ere his execution.Not having fear of critic 'fore his eyes,But still rejecting wholesome, good advice,He e'en is come to suffer here to-dayFor counterfeiting (as you judge) a play,Which is against dread Phœbus highest treason;Damn, damning judges, therefore, you have reason:—You he does mean who, for the selfsame fault,That damning privilege of yours have bought.So the huge bankers, when they needs must fail,Send the small brothers of their trade to jail;Whilst they, by breaking, gentlemen are made,Then, more than any, scorn poor men o' the trade.You hardened renegado poets, whoTreat rhyming poets worse than Turk would do,But vent your heathenish rage, hang, draw, and quarter;His Muse will die to-day a fleering martyr;Since for bald jest, dull libel, or lampoon,There are who suffer persecutionWith the undaunted briskness of buffoon,And strict professors live of raillery,Defying porter's-lodge, or pillory.For those who yet write on our poet's fate,Should as co-sufferers commiserate:But he in vain their pity now would crave,Who for themselves, alas! no pity have,And their own gasping credit will not save;And those, much less, our criminal would spare,Who ne'er in rhyme transgress;—if such there are.Well then, who nothing hopes, need nothing fear:And he, before your cruel votes shall do it,By his despair declares himself no poet.
Mr.Ranger,Mr.Vincent,Mr.Valentine,Young Gentlemen of the town.AldermanGripe, seemingly precise, but a covetous, lecherous, old Usurer of the city.SirSimon Addleplot, a Coxcomb, always in pursuit of women of great fortunes.Mr.Dapperwit, a brisk, conceited, half-witted fellow of the town.Mrs.Crossbite'sLandlord, and his Prentices, Servants, Waiters, and other Attendants.Christina, Valentine'sMistress.Lydia, Ranger'sMistress.LadyFlippant, Gripe'sSister, an affected Widow in distress for a husband, though still declaiming against marriage.Mrs.Martha, Gripe'sDaughter.Mrs.Joyner, a Match-maker, or precise city bawd.Mrs.Crossbite, an old cheating jill, and bawd to her Daughter.MissLucy, Mrs.Crossbite'sDaughter.Isabel, Christina'sWoman.Leonore, Servant toLydia.SCENE—London.
EnterLadyFlippantandMrs.Joyner.
Lady Flip.Not a husband to be had for money!—Come, come, I might have been a better housewife for myself, as the world goes now, if I had dealt for an heir with his guardian, uncle, or mother-in-law; and you are no better than a chouse, a cheat.
Mrs. Joyn.I a cheat, madam!
L. Flip.I am out of my money, and patience too.
Mrs. Joyn.Do not run out of your patience, whatever you do:—'tis a necessary virtue for a widow without a jointure, in truly.
L. Flip.Vile woman! though my fortune be something wasted, my person's in good repair. If I had not depended on you, I had had a husband before this time. When I gave you the last five pounds, did you not promise I should be married by Christmas?
Mrs. Joyn.And I had kept my promise if you had co-operated.
L. Flip.Co-operated! what should I have done? 'Tis well known no woman breathing could use more industry to get her a husband than I have. Has not my husband's 'scutcheon walked as much ground as the citizens' signs since the Fire?—that no quarter of the town might be ignorant of the widow Flippant.
Mrs. Joyn.'Tis well known, madam, indeed.
L. Flip.Have I not owned myself (against my stomach) the relict of a citizen, to credit my fortune?
Mrs. Joyn.'Tis confessed, madam.
L. Flip.Have I not constantly kept Covent-Garden church, St. Martin's, the playhouses, Hyde Park, Mulberry garden,[26]and all the other public marts where widows and maids are exposed?
Mrs. Joyn.Far be it from me to think you have an aversion to a husband. But why, madam, have you refused so many good offers?
L. Flip.Good offers, Mrs. Joyner! I'll be sworn I never had an offer since my late husband's.—If I had an offer, Mrs. Joyner!—there's the thing, Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn.Then your frequent and public detestation of marriage is thought real; and if you have had no offer, there's the thing, madam.
L. Flip.I cannot deny but I always rail against marriage;—which is the widow's way to it certainly.
Mrs. Joyn.'Tis the desperate way of the desperate widows, in truly.
L. Flip.Would you have us as tractable as the wenches that eat oatmeal, and fooled like them too?
Mrs Joyn.If nobody were wiser than I, I should think, since the widow wants the natural allurement which the virgin has, you ought to give men all other encouragements, in truly.
L. Flip.Therefore, on the contrary, because the widow's fortune (whether supposed or real) is her chiefest bait, the more chary she seems of it, and the more she withdraws it, the more eagerly the busy gaping fry will bite. With us widows, husbands are got like bishoprics, by saying "No:" and I tell you, a young heir is as shy of a widow as of a rook, to my knowledge.
Mrs. Joyn.I can allege nothing against your practice—but your ill success; and indeed you must use another method with Sir Simon Addleplot.
L. Flip.Will he be at your house at the hour?
Mrs. Joyn.He'll be there by ten:—'tis now nine. I'll warrant you he will not fail.
L. Flip.I'll warrant you then I will not fail:—for 'tis more than time I were sped.
Mrs. Joyn.Mr. Dapperwit has not been too busy with you, I hope?—Your experience has taught you to prevent a mischance.
L. Flip.No, no, my mischance (as you call it) is greater than that. I have but three months to reckon, ere I lie down with my port and equipage, and must be delivered of a woman, a footman, and a coachman:—for my coach must down, unless I can get Sir Simon to draw with me.
Mrs. Joyn.He will pair with you exactly if you knew all. [Aside.
L. Flip.Ah, Mrs. Joyner, nothing grieves me like the putting down my coach! For the fine clothes, the fine lodgings,—let 'em go; for a lodging is as unnecessary athing to a widow that has a coach, as a hat to a man that has a good peruke. For, as you see about town, she is most properly at home in her coach:—she eats, and drinks, and sleeps in her coach; and for her visits, she receives them in the playhouse.
Mrs. Joyn.Ay, ay, let the men keep lodgings, as you say, madam, if they will.
Enter behind, at one door,GripeandSirSimon Addleplot,the latter in the dress of aClerk;at the other,Mrs.Martha.
L. Flip.Do you think if things had been with me as they have been, I would ever have housed with this counter-fashion brother of mine, (who hates a vest as much as a surplice,) to have my patches assaulted every day at dinner, my freedom censured, and my visitants shut out of doors?—Poor Mr. Dapperwit cannot be admitted.
Mrs. Joyn.He knows him too well to keep his acquaintance.
L. Flip.He is a censorious rigid fop, and knows nothing.
Gripe.So, so! [Behind.
Mrs. Joyn.[Aside.] Is he here?—[ToLadyFlippant.] Nay, with your pardon, madam, I must contradict you there. He is a prying commonwealth's-man, an implacable magistrate, a sturdy pillar of his cause, and—[ToGripe] But, oh me, is your worship so near then? if I had thought you heard me—
Gripe.Why, why, Mrs. Joyner, I have said as much of myself ere now; and without vanity, I profess.
Mrs. Joyn.I know your virtue is proof against vainglory; but the truth to your face looks like flattery in your worship's servant.
Gripe.No, no; say what you will of me in that kind, far be it from me to suspect you of flattery.
Mrs. Joyn.In truly, your worship knows yourself, and knows me, for I am none of those—
L. Flip.[Aside.] Now they are in—Mrs. Joyner, I'll go before to your house, you'll be sure to come after me.
Mrs. Joyn.Immediately.—[ExitLadyFlippant.] But as I was saying, I am none of those—
Gripe.No, Mrs. Joyner, you cannot sew pillows under folks' elbows; you cannot hold a candle to the devil; you cannot tickle a trout to take him; you—
Mrs. Joyn.Lord, how well you do know me indeed!—and you shall see I know your worship as well. You cannot backslide from your principles; you cannot be terrified by the laws; nor bribed to allegiance by office or preferment; you—
Gripe.Hold, hold, my praise must not interrupt yours.
Mrs. Joyn.With your worship's pardon, in truly, I must on.
Gripe.I am full of your praise, and it will run over.
Mrs. Joyn.Nay, sweet sir, you are—
Gripe.Nay, sweet Mrs. Joyner, you are—
Mrs. Joyn.Nay, good your worship, you are—[Stops her mouth with his handkerchief.
Gripe.I say you are—
Mrs. Joyn.I must not be rude with your worship.
Gripe.You are a nursing mother to the saints; through you they gather together; through you they fructify and increase; and through you the child cries from out of the hand-basket.
Mrs. Joyn.Through you virgins are married, or provided for as well; through you the reprobate's wife is made a saint; and through you the widow is not disconsolate, nor misses her husband.
Gripe.Through you—
Mrs. Joyn.Indeed you will put me to the blush.
Gripe.Blushes are badges of imperfection:—saints have no shame. You are—are the flower of matrons, Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn.You are the pink of courteous aldermen.
Gripe.You are the muffler of secrecy.
Mrs. Joyn.You are the head-band of justice.
Gripe.Thank you, sweet Mrs. Joyner: do you think so indeed? You are—you are the bonfire of devotion.
Mrs. Joyn.You are the bellows of zeal.
Gripe.You are the cupboard of charity.
Mrs. Joyn.You are the fob of liberality.
Gripe.You are the rivet of sanctified love or wedlock.
Mrs. Joyn.You are the picklock and dark-lantern of policy; and, in a word, a conventicle of virtues.
Gripe.Your servant, your servant, sweet Mrs. Joyner! you have stopped my mouth.
Mrs. Joyn.Your servant, your servant, sweet alderman! I have nothing to say.
Sir Sim.The half pullet will be cold, sir.
Gripe.Mrs. Joyner, you shall sup with me.
Mrs. Joyn.Indeed I am engaged to supper with some of your man's friends; and I came on purpose to get leave for him too.
Gripe.I cannot deny you anything. But I have forgot to tell you what a kind of fellow my sister's Dapperwit is: before a full table of the coffee-house sages, he had the impudence to hold an argument against me in the defence of vests and protections; and therefore I forbid him my house; besides, when he came I was forced to lock up my daughter for fear of him, nay, I think the poor child herself was afraid of him.—Come hither, child, were you not afraid of Dapperwit?
Mrs. Mar.Yes indeed, sir, he is a terrible man.—Yet I durst meet with him in a piazza at midnight. [Aside.
Gripe.He shall never come into my doors again.
Mrs. Mar.Shall Mr. Dapperwit never come hither again then?
Gripe.No, child.
Mrs. Mar.I am afraid he will.
Gripe.I warrant thee.
Mrs. Mar.[Aside.] I warrant you then I'll go to him.—I am glad of that, for I hate him as much as a bishop.
Gripe.Thou art no child of mine, if thou dost not hate bishops and wits.—Well, Mrs. Joyner, I'll keep you no longer. [ToAddleplot.] Jonas, wait on Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn.Good night to your worship.
Gripe.But stay, stay, Mrs. Joyner: have you spoken with the widow Crossbite about her little daughter, as I desired?
Mrs. Joyn.I will to-morrow early; it shall be the first thing I'll do after my prayers.
Gripe.If Dapperwit should contaminate her!—I cannot rest till I have redeemed her from the jaws of that lion.—Good night.
Mrs. Joyn.Good gentleman. [ExeuntGripeandMrs.Martha.
Sir Sim.Ha! ha! ha! Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn.What's the matter, Sir Simon?
Sir Sim.Ha! ha! ha!—let us make haste to your house, or I shall burst, faith and troth, to see what fools you and I make of these people.
Mrs. Joyn.I will not rob you of any of the credit; I am but a feeble instrument, you are an engineer.
Sir Sim.Remember what you say now when things succeed, and do not tell me then,—I must thank your wit for all.
Mrs. Joyn.No, in truly, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.Nay, I am sure Dapperwit and I have been partners in many an intrigue, and he uses to serve me so.
Mrs. Joyn.He is an ill man to intrigue with, as you call it.
Sir Sim.Ay, so are all your wits; a pox! if a man's understanding be not so public as theirs, he cannot do a wise action but they go away with the honour of it, if he be of their acquaintance.
Mrs. Joyn.Why do you keep such acquaintance then?
Sir Sim.There is a proverb, Mrs. Joyner, "You may know him by his company."
Mrs. Joyn.No, no, to be thought a man of parts, you must always keep company with a man of less wit than yourself.
Sir Sim.That's the hardest thing in the world for me to do, faith and troth.
Mrs. Joyn.What, to find a man of less wit than yourself? Pardon my raillery, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.No, no, I cannot keep company with a fool:—I wonder how men of parts can do't, there's something in't.
Mrs. Joyn.If you could, all your wise actions would be your own, and your money would be your own too.
Sir Sim.Nay, faith and troth, that's true; for your wits are plaguily given to borrow. They'll borrow of their wench, coachman, or linkboy, their hire, Mrs. Joyner; Dapperwit has that trick with a vengeance.
Mrs. Joyn.Why will you keep company with him then, I say? for, to be plain with you, you have followed him so long, that you are thought but his cully;[27]for every wit has his cully, as every squire his led captain.
Sir Sim.I his cully, I his cully, Mrs. Joyner! Lord, that I should be thought a cully to any wit breathing!
Mrs. Joyn.Nay, do not take it so to heart, for the best wits of the town are but cullies themselves.
Sir Sim.To whom, to whom, to whom, Mrs. Joyner?
Mrs. Joyn.To sempstresses and bawds.
Sir Sim.To your knowledge, Mrs. Joyner.—[Aside.] There I was with her.
Mrs. Joyn.To tailors and vintners, but especially to the French houses.
Sir Sim.But Dapperwit is a cully to none of them; for he ticks.
Mrs. Joyn.I care not, but I wish you were a cully to none but me; that's all the hurt I wish you.
Sir Sim.Thank you, Mrs. Joyner. Well, I will throw off Dapperwit's acquaintance when I am married, and will only be a cully to my wife; and that's no more than the wisest husband of 'em all is.
Mrs. Joyn.Then you think you shall carry Mrs. Martha?
Sir Sim.Your hundred guineas are as good as in your lap.
Mrs. Joyn.But I am afraid this double plot of yours should fail: you would sooner succeed if you only designed upon Mrs. Martha, or only upon my Lady Flippant.
Sir Sim.Nay, then, you are no woman of intrigue, faith and troth: 'tis good to have two strings to one's bow. If Mrs. Martha be coy, I tell the widow I put on my disguise for her; but if Mrs. Martha be kind to Jonas, Sir Simon Addleplot will be false to the widow: which is no more than widows are used to; for a promise to a widow is as seldom kept as a vow made at sea, as Dapperwit says.
Mrs. Joyn.I am afraid they should discover you.
Sir Sim.You have nothing to fear; you have your twenty guineas in your pocket for helping me into my service, and if I get into Mrs. Martha's quarters, you have a hundred more; if into the widow's, fifty:—happy go lucky! Will her ladyship be at your house at the hour?
Mrs. Joyn.Yes.
Sir Sim.Then you shall see when I am Sir Simon Addleplot and myself I'll look like myself; now I am Jonas, I look like an ass. You never thought Sir Simon Addleplot could have looked so like an ass by his ingenuity.
Mrs. Joyn.Pardon me, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.Nay, do not flatter, faith and troth.
Mrs. Joyn.Come let us go, 'tis time.
Sir Sim.I will carry the widow to the French house.
Mrs. Joyn.If she will go.
Sir Sim.If she will go! why, did you ever know a widow refuse a treat? no more than a lawyer a fee, faith and troth: yet I know too—
No treat, sweet words, good mien, but sly intrigueThat must at length the jilting widow fegue.[28][Exeunt.
EnterVincent,Ranger,andDapperwit.
Dap.Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's have no drinking to-night.
Vin.Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's have no Dapperwit to-night.
Ran.Nay, nay, Vincent.
Vin.A pox! I hate his impertinent chat more than he does the honest Burgundy.
Dap.But why should you force wine upon us? we are not all of your gusto.
Vin.But why should you force your chawed jests, your damned ends of your mouldy lampoons, and last year's sonnets, upon us? we are not all of your gusto.
Dap.The wine makes me sick, let me perish!
Vin.Thy rhymes make me spew.
Ran.At repartee already! Come, Vincent. I know you would rather have him pledge you: here, Dapperwit—[Gives him the glass.]—But why are you so eager to have him drink always?
Vin.Because he is so eager to talk always, and there is no other way to silence him.
EnterWaiter.
Wait.Here is a gentleman desires to speak with Mr. Vincent.
Vin.I come. [ExitVincentwithWaiter.
Dap.He may drink, because he is obliged to the bottle for all the wit and courage he has; 'tis not free and natural like yours.
Ran.He has more courage than wit, but wants neither.
Dap.As a pump gone dry, if you pour no water down you will get none out, so—
Ran.Nay, I bar similes too, to-night.
Dap.Why, is not the thought new? don't you apprehend it?
Ran.Yes, yes, but—
Dap.Well, well, will you comply with his sottishness too, and hate brisk things in complaisance to the ignorant dull age? I believe shortly 'twill be as hard to find a patient friend to communicate one's wit to, as a faithful friend to communicate one's secret to. Wit has as few true judges as painting, I see.
Ran.All people pretend to be judges of both.
Dap.Ay, they pretend; but set you aside, and one or two more—
Ran.But why, has Vincent neither courage nor wit?
Dap.He has no courage, because he beat his wench for giving meles doux yeuxonce; and no wit, because he does not comprehend my thoughts; and he is a son of a whore for his ignorance. I take ignorance worse from any man than the lie, because 'tis as much as to say I am no wit.
Re-enterVincent.
You need not take any notice, though, to him what I say.
Vin.Ranger, there is a woman below in a coach would speak with you.
Ran.With me? [ExitRanger.
Dap.This Ranger, Mr. Vincent, is as false to his friend as his wench.
Vin.You have no reason to say so, but because he is absent.
Dap.'Tis disobliging to tell a man of his faults to his face. If he had but your grave parts and manly wit, I should adore him; but, a pox! he is a mere buffoon, a jack-pudding, let me perish!
Vin.You are an ungrateful fellow. I have heard him maintain you had wit, which was more than e'er you could do for yourself.—I thought you had owned him your Mæcenas.
Dap.A pox! he cannot but esteem me, 'tis for his honour; but I cannot but be just for all that—without favour or affection. Yet I confess I love him so well, that I wish he had but the hundredth part of your courage.
Vin.He has had courage to save you from many a beating, to my knowledge.
Dap.Come, come, I wish the man well, and, next to you, better than any man! and, I am sorry to say it, he has not courage to snuff a candle with his fingers. When he is drunk, indeed, he dares get a clap, or so—and swear at a constable.
Vin.Detracting fop! when did you see him desert his friend?
Dap.You have a rough kind of a raillery, Mr. Vincent; but since you will have it, (though I love the man heartily, I say,) he deserted me once in breaking of windows, for fear of the constables—
Re-enterRanger.
But you need not take notice to him of what I tell you; I hate to put a man to the blush.
Ran.I have had just now a visit from my mistress, who is as jealous of me as a wife of her husband when she lies in:—my cousin Lydia,—you have heard me speak of her.
Vin.But she is more troublesome than a wife that lies in, because she follows you to your haunts. Why do you allow her that privilege before her time?
Ran.Faith, I may allow her any privilege, and be too hard for her yet. How do you think I have cheated her to-night?—Women are poor credulous creatures, easily deceived.
Vin.We are poor credulous creatures, when we think 'em so.
Ran.Intending a ramble to St. James's Park to-night, upon some probable hopes of some fresh game I have in chase, I appointed her to stay at home; with a promise to come to her within this hour, that she might not spoil the scent and prevent my sport.
Vin.She'll be even with you when you are married, I warrant you. In the meantime here's her health, Dapperwit.
Ran.Now had he rather be at the window, writing her anagram in the glass with his diamond, or biting his nails in the corner for a fine thought to come and divert us with at the table.
Dap.No, a pox! I have no wit to-night. I am as barren and hide-bound as one of your damned scribbling poets, who are sots in company for all their wit; as a miser is poor for all his money. How do you like the thought?
Vin.Drink, drink!
Dap.Well, I can drink this, because I shall be reprieved presently.
Vin.Who will be so civil to us?
Dap.Sir Simon Addleplot:—I have bespoke him a supper here, for he treats to-night a new rich mistress.
Ran.That spark, who has his fruitless designs uponthe bed-ridden rich widow, down to the suckling heiress in her pissing-clout. He was once the sport, but now the public grievance, of all the fortunes in town; for he watches them like a younger brother that is afraid to be mumped of his snip,[29]and they cannot steal a marriage, nor stay their stomachs, but he must know it.
Dap.He has now pitched his nets for Gripe's daughter, the rich scrivener, and serves him as a clerk to get admission to her; which the watchful fop her father denies to all others.
Ran.I thought you had been nibbling at her once, under pretence of love to her aunt.
Dap.I confess I have the same design yet, and Addleplot is but my agent, whilst he thinks me his. He brings me letters constantly from her, and carries mine back.
Vin.Still betraying your best friends!
Dap.I cannot in honour but betray him. Let me perish! the poor young wench is taken with my person, and would scratch through four walls to come to me.
Vin.'Tis a sign she is kept up close indeed.
Dap.Betray him! I'll not be traitor to love for any man.
EnterSirSimon Addleplotwith theWaiter.
Sir Sim.Know 'em! you are a saucy Jack-straw to question me, faith and troth; I know everybody, and everybody knows me.
All.Sir Simon! Sir Simon! Sir Simon!
Ran.And you are a welcome man to everybody.
Sir Sim.Now, son of a whore, do I know the gentlemen?—A dog! would have had a shilling of me before he would let me come to you!
Ran.The rogue has been bred at Court, sure.—Get you out, sirrah. [ExitWaiter.
Sir Sim.He has been bred at a French-house, where they are more unreasonable.
Vin.Here's to you, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.I cannot drink, for I have a mistress within; though I would not have the people of the house to know it.
Ran.You need not be ashamed of your mistresses, for they are commonly rich.
Sir Sim.And because she is rich, I would conceal her; for I never had a rich mistress yet, but one or other got her from me presently, faith and troth.
Ran.But this is an ill place to conceal a mistress in; every waiter is an intelligencer to your rivals.
Sir Sim.I have a trick for that:—I'll let no waiters come into the room; I'll lay the cloth myself rather.
Ran.But who is your mistress?
Sir Sim.Your servant,—your servant, Mr. Ranger.
Vin.Come, will you pledge me?
Sir Sim.No, I'll spare your wine, if you will spare me Dapperwit's company; I came for that.
Vin.You do us a double favour, to take him and leave the wine.
Sir Sim.Come, come, Dapperwit.
Ran.Do not go, unless he will suffer us to see his mistress too. [Aside toDapperwit.
Sir Sim.Come, come, man.
Dap.Would you have me so uncivil as to leave my company?—they'll take it ill.
Sir Sim.I cannot find her talk without thee.—Pray, gentlemen, persuade Mr. Dapperwit to go with me.
Ran.We will not hinder him of better company.
Dap.Yours is too good to be left rudely.
Sir Sim.Nay, gentlemen, I would desire your company too, if you knew the lady.
Dap.They know her as well as I; you say I know her not.
Sir Sim.You are not everybody.
Ran.Perhaps we do know the lady, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.You do not, you do not: none of you ever saw her in your lives;—but if you could be secret, and civil—
Ran.We have drunk yet but our bottle a-piece.
Sir Sim.But will you be civil, Mr. Vincent?
Ran.He dares not look a woman in the face under three bottles.
Sir Sim.Come along then. But can you be civil, gentlemen? will you be civil, gentlemen? pray be civil if you can, and you shall see her.
[Exit, and returns withLadyFlippantandMrs.Joyner.
Dap.How, has he got his jilt here! [Aside.
Ran.The widow Flippant! [Aside.
Vin.Is this the woman that we never saw! [Aside.
L. Flip.Does he bring us into company!—and Dapperwit one! Though I had married the fool, I thought to have reserved the wit as well as other ladies. [Aside.
Sir Sim.Nay, look as long as you will, madam, you will find them civil gentlemen, and good company.
L. Flip.I am not in doubt of their civility, but yours.
Mrs. Joyn.You'll never leave snubbing your servants! Did you not promise to use him kindly? [Aside toLadyFlippant.
L. Flip.[Aside toMrs.Joyner.] 'Tis true.—[Aloud.] We wanted no good company, Sir Simon, as long as we had yours.
Sir Sim.But they wanted good company, therefore I forced 'em to accept of yours.
L. Flip.They will not think the company good they were forced into, certainly.
Sir Sim.A pox! I must be using the words in fashion, though I never have any luck with 'em. Mrs. Joyner, help me off.
Mrs. Joyn.I suppose, madam, he means the gentlemen wanted not inclination to your company, but confidenceto desire so great an honour; therefore he forced 'em.
Dap.What makes this bawd here? Sure, mistress, you bawds should be like the small cards, though at first you make up a pack, yet, when the play begins, you should be put out as useless.
Mrs. Joyn.Well, well, gibing companion: you would have the pimps kept in only? you would so?
Vin.What, they are quarrelling!
Ran.Pimp and bawd agree now-a-days like doctor and apothecary.
Sir Sim.Try, madam, if they are not civil gentlemen; talk with 'em, while I go lay the cloth—no waiter comes here.—[Aside.] My mother used to tell me, I should avoid all occasions of talking before my mistress, because silence is a sign of love as well as prudence. [Lays the cloth.
L. Flip.Methinks you look a little yellow on't, Mr. Dapperwit. I hope you do not censure me because you find me passing away a night with this fool:—he is not a man to be jealous of, sure.
Dap.You are not a lady to be jealous of, sure.
L. Flip.No, certainly.—But why do you look as if you were jealous then?
Dap.If I had met you in Whetstone's park,[30]with a drunken foot-soldier, I should not have been jealous of you.
L. Flip.Fy, fy! now you are jealous, certainly; for people always, when they grow jealous, grow rude:—but I can pardon it since it proceeds from love certainly.
Dap.I am out of all hopes to be rid of this eternal old acquaintance: when I jeer her, she thinks herself praised; now I call her whore in plain English she thinks I am jealous. [Aside.
L. Flip.Sweet Mr. Dapperwit, be not so censorious, (I speak for your sake, not my own,) for jealousy is a great torment, but my honour cannot suffer certainly.
Dap.No, certainly; but the greatest torment I have is—your love.
L. Flip.Alas! sweet Mr. Dapperwit, indeed love is a torment: but 'tis a sweet torment; but jealousy is a bitter torment.—I do not go about to cure you of the torment of my love.
Dap.'Tis a sign so.
L. Flip.Come, come, look up, man; is that a rival to contest with you?
Dap.I will contest with no rival, not with my old rival your coachman; but they have heartily my resignation; and, to do you a favour, but myself a greater, I will help to tie the knot you are fumbling for now, betwixt your cully here and you.
L. Flip.Go, go, I take that kind of jealousy worst of all, to suspect I would be debauched to beastly matrimony.—But who are those gentlemen, pray? are they men of fortunes, Mrs. Joyner?
Mrs. Joyn.I believe so.
L. Flip.Do you believe so, indeed?—Gentlemen—[Advancing towardsRangerandVincent.
Ran.If the civility we owe to ladies had not controlled our envy to Mr. Dapperwit, we had interrupted ere this your private conversation.
L. Flip.Your interruption, sir, had been most civil and obliging;—for our discourse was of marriage.
Ran.That is a subject, madam, as grateful as common.
L. Flip.O fy, fy! are you of that opinion too? I cannot suffer any to talk of it in my company.
Ran.Are you married then, madam?
L. Flip.No, certainly.
Ran.I am sure so much beauty cannot despair of it.
L. Flip.Despair of it!—
Ran.Only those that are married, or cannot be married, hate to hear of marriage.
L. Flip.Yet you must know, sir, my aversion to marriage is such, that you, nor no man breathing, shall ever persuade me to it.
Ran.Cursed be the man should do so rude a thing as to persuade you to anything against your inclination! I would not do it for the world, madam.
L. Flip.Come, come, though you seem to be a civil gentleman, I think you no better than your neighbours. I do not know a man of you all that will not thrust a woman up into a corner, and then talk an hour to her impertinently of marriage.
Ran.You would find me another man in a corner, I assure you, madam; for you should not have a word of marriage from me, whatsoever you might find in my actions of it; I hate talking as much as you.
L. Flip.I hate it extremely.
Ran.I am your man then, madam; for I find just the same fault with your sex as you do with ours:—I ne'er could have to do with woman in my life, but still she would be impertinently talking of marriage to me.
L. Flip.Observe that, Mrs. Joyner.
Dap.Pray, Mr. Ranger, let's go; I had rather drink with Mr. Vincent, than stay here with you; besides 'tis Park-time.
Ran.[ToDapperwit.] I come.—[ToLadyFlippant.] Since you are a lady that hate marriage, I'll do you the service to withdraw the company; for those that hate marriage hate loss of time.
L. Flip.Will you go then, sir? but before you go, sir, pray tell me is your aversion to marriage real?
Ran.As real as yours.
L. Flip.If it were no more real than mine—[Aside.
Ran.Your servant, madam. [Turns to go.
L. Flip.But do you hate marriage certainly? [Plucks him back.
Ran.Certainly.
L. Flip.Come, I cannot believe it: you dissemble it only because I pretend it.
Ran.Do you but pretend it then, madam?
L. Flip.[Aside] I shall discover myself—[Aloud] I mean, because I hold against it, you do the same in complaisance:—for I have heard say, cunning men think to bring the coy and untractable women to tameness as they do some mad people—by humouring their frenzies.
Ran.I am none of those cunning men, yet have too much wit to entertain the presumption of designing upon you.
L. Flip.'Twere no such presumption neither.
Dap.Come away; 'sdeath! don't you see your danger?
Ran.Those aims are for Sir Simon.—Good night, madam.
L. Flip.Will you needs go, then?—[ToSirSimon] The gentlemen are a-going, Sir Simon; will you let 'em?
Sir Sim.Nay, madam, if you cannot keep 'em, how should I?
L. Flip.Stay, sir; because you hate marriage, I'll sing you a new song against it. [Sings.
A spouse I do hate,For either she's false or she's jealous;But give us a mateWho nothing will ask us or tell us.She stands on no terms,Nor chaffers, by way of indenture,Her love for your farms;But takes her kind man at a venture.If all prove not right,Without an act, process, or warning,From wife for a nightYou may be divorced in the morning.When parents are slaves,Their brats cannot be any other;Great wits and great bravesHave always a punk[31]to their mother.
Though it be the fashion for women of quality to sing any song whatever, because the words are not distinguished, yet I should have blushed to have done it now, but for you, sir.
Ran.The song is edifying, the voice admirable—and, once more, I am your servant, madam.
L. Flip.What, will you go too, Mr Dapperwit?
Sir Sim.Pray, Mr. Dapperwit, do not you go too.
Dap.I am engaged.
Sir Sim.Well, if we cannot have their company, we will not have their room: ours is a private backroom; they have paid their reckoning, let's go thither again.
L. Flip.But pray, sweet Mr. Dapperwit, do not go. Keep him, Sir Simon.
Sir Sim.I cannot keep him. [ExeuntVincent, Ranger,andDapperwit.
It is impossible; (the world is so;)One cannot keep one's friend, and mistress too. [Exeunt.
EnterRanger, Vincent,andDapperwit.
Ran.Hang me, if I am not pleased extremely with this new-fashioned caterwauling, this mid-night coursing in the park.
Vin.A man may come after supper with his three bottles in his head, reel himself sober, without reproof from his mother, aunt, or grave relation.
Ran.May bring his bashful wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the town.
Dap.And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show of well-trimmed vest or fair peruke:—no man's now is whitest.
Ran.And now no woman's modest or proud; for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are dyed, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction.
Vin.And now a man may carry a bottle under his arm instead of his hat;—and no observing spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face.
Dap.And now the brisk repartee ruins the complaisant cringe, or wise grimace.—Something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night.
Ran.O blessed season!
Vin.For good-fellows.
Ran.For lovers.
Dap.And for the Muses.
Ran.When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice.
Vin.I, a drawer.
Dap.And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish!
Ran.But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places;—walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet?
Dap.'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish!
Vin.Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop.
Dap.No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say.
Ran.Who comes here, Dapperwit? [People walk slowly over the stage.
Dap.By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my Lord Easy.
Ran.And who the woman?
Dap.My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by—
Vin.Dapperwit, hold your tongue.
Ran.How! are you concerned?
Vin.Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass.
Ran.Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?—Now, let him talk of anybody.
Vin.So he will,—till you cut his throat.
Ran.Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only?
Vin.Why does he always rail against my friends, then, and my best friend—a beer-glass?
Ran.Dapperwit, be your own advocate: my game, I think, is before me there. [Exit.
Dap.This Ranger, I think, has all the ill qualities of all your town fops;—leaving his company for a spruce lord or a wench.
Vin.Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you railing at mine.
EnterLydiaandLadyFlippant.—They walk over the stage.
Lyd.False Ranger, shall I find thee here? [Aside.
Vin.Those are women, are they not? [ToDapper.
Dap.The least seems to be my Lucy, sure. [Aside.
Vin.Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark!—let's try.
Dap.They are persons of quality of my acquaintance;—hold!
Vin.Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em. [TheLadiesgo off, they follow them.
Re-enterLydiaandLadyFlippant.
Lyd.I come hither to make a discovery to-night.
L. Flip.Of my love to you, certainly; for nobody but you could have debauched me to the Park, certainly. I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave.
Lyd.I believe you:—but to get another, widow.
L. Flip.Another husband, another husband, foh!
Lyd.There does not pass a night here but many a match is made.
L. Flip.That a woman of honour should have the word match in her mouth!—but I hope, madam, the fellows do not make honourable love here, do they? I abominate honourable love, upon my honour.
Lyd.If they should make honourable love here, I know you would prevent 'em.
Re-enterVincentandDapperwit.—They walk slowly towards theLadies.
But here come two men will inform you what to do.
L. Flip.Do they come?—are they men certainly?
Lyd.Prepare for an assault, they'll put you to't.
L. Flip.Will they put us to't certainly? I was never put to't yet. If they should put us to't, I should drop down, down, certainly.
Lyd.I believe, truly, you would not have power to run away.
L. Flip.Therefore I will not stay the push.—They come! they come! oh, the fellows come! [LadyFlippantruns away,Lydiafollows, andVincentandDapperwitafter them.
Re-enterLadyFlippantat the other side, alone.
L. Flip.So! I am got off clear! I did not run from the men, but my companion. For all their brags, men have hardly courage to set upon us when our number is equal; now they shall see I defy 'em:—for we women have always most courage when we are alone. But, a pox! the lazy rogues come not! or they are drunk and cannot run. Oh drink! abominable drink! instead of inflaming love, it quenches it; and for one lover it encourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all wine! even Rhenish wine and sugar—
EnterSirSimon Addleplot,muffled in a cloak.
But fortune will not see me want; here comes a single bully,—I wish he may stand;—
For now a-nights the jostling nymph is bolderThan modern satyr with his cloak o'er shoulder.
Well met, sir. [She puts on her mask.
Sir Sim.How shall I know that, forsooth? Who are you? do you know me?
L. Flip.Who are you? don't you know me?
Sir Sim.Not I, faith and troth!
L. Flip.I am glad on't; for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before.
Sir Sim.Ay, but then one can't be so free with a new acquaintance as with an old one; she may deny one the civility.
L. Flip.Not till you ask her.
Sir Sim.But I am afraid to be denied.
L. Flip.Let me tell you, sir, you cannot disoblige us women more than in distrusting us.
Sir Sim.Pish! what should one ask for, when you know one's meaning?—but shall I deal freely with you?
L. Flip.I love, of my life, men should deal freely with me; there are so few men will deal freely with one—
Sir Sim.Are you not a fireship,[32]a punk, madam?
L. Flip.Well, sir, I love raillery.
Sir Sim.Faith and troth, I do not rally, I deal freely.
L. Flip.This is the time and place for freedom, sir.
Sir Sim.Are you handsome?
L. Flip.Joan's as good as my lady in the dark, certainly: but men that deal freely never ask questions, certainly.
Sir Sim.How then! I thought to deal freely, and put a woman to the question, had been all one.
L. Flip.But, let me tell you, those that deal freely indeed, take a woman by—
Sir Sim.What, what, what, what?
L. Flip.By the hand—and lead her aside.
Sir Sim.Now I understand you; come along then.
Enter behindMusicianswith torches.
L. Flip.What unmannerly rascals are those that bringlight into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women, certainly.—[Aside.] Still disappointed!
Sir Sim.Oh, the fiddles, the fiddles! I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not to offend 'em; for I intend to serenade the whole Park to-night. But my frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth: for I know the fiddles will call the whole herd of vizard masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to-night at the French-house; but as soon as the jilt had eat up my meat and drunk her two bottles, she ran away from me, and left me alone.
L. Flip.How! is it he? Addleplot!—that I could not know him by his faith and troth! [Aside.
Sir Sim.Now I would understand her tricks; because I intend to marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to.
L. Flip.So thou shalt;—but not yet. [Aside.
Sir Sim.Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue or sense in me, she is as arrant a jilt as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head, faith and troth. Moreover she is bow-legged, hopper-hipped, and, betwixt pomatum and Spanish red, has a complexion like a Holland cheese, and no more teeth left than such as give ahaut goûtto her breath; but she is rich, faith and troth.
L. Flip.[Aside.] Oh rascal! he has heard somebody else say all this of me. But I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge; for I will marry him. [TheMusiciansapproaching, exitFlippant.
Sir Sim.What, gone!—come then, strike up, my lads.
EnterMenandWomenin vizards—a Dance, during whichSirSimon Addleplot,for the most part, stands still in a cloak and vizard; but sometimes goes about peeping, and examining theWomen'sclothes—the Dance ended, all exeunt.
Re-enterLadyFlippantandLydia,after themVincentandDapperwit.
L. Flip.[ToLydia.] Nay, if you stay any longer, I must leave you again. [Going off.
Vin.We have overtaken them at last again. These are they: they separate too; and that's but a challenge to us.
Dap.Let me perish! ladies—
Lyd.Nay, good madam, let's unite, now here's the common enemy upon us.
Vin.Damn me! ladies—
Dap.Hold, a pox! you are too rough.—Let me perish! ladies—
Lyd.Not for want of breath, gentlemen:—we'll stay rather.
Dap.For want of your favour rather, sweet ladies.
L. Flip.[Aside.] That's Dapperwit, false villain! but he must not know I am here. If he should, I should lose his thrice agreeable company, and he would run from me as fast as from the bailiffs. [ToLydia.] What! you will not talk with 'em, I hope?
Lyd.Yes, but I will.
L. Flip.Then you are a Park-woman certainly, and you will take it kindly if I leave you.
Lyd.No, you must not leave me.
L. Flip.Then you must leave them.
Lyd.I'll see if they are worse company than you, first.
L. Flip.Monstrous impudence!—will you not come? [PullsLydia.
Vin.Nay, madam, I never suffer any violence to be used to a woman but what I do myself: she must stay, and you must not go.
L. Flip.Unhand me, you rude fellow!
Vin.Nay, now I am sure you will stay and be kind; for coyness in a woman is as little sign of true modesty, as huffing in a man is of true courage.
Dap.Use her gently, and speak soft things to her.
Lyd.[Aside.] Now do I guess I know my coxcomb.—[ToDapperwit.] Sir, I am extremely glad I am fallen into the hands of a gentleman that can speak soft things; and this is so fine a night to hear soft things in;—morning, I should have said.
Dap.It will not be morning, dear madam, till you pull off your mask.—[Aside.] That I think was brisk.
Lyd.Indeed, dear sir, my face would frighten back the sun.
Dap.With glories more radiant than his own.—[Aside.] I keep up with her, I think.
Lyd.But why would you put me to the trouble of lighting the world, when I thought to have gone to sleep?
Dap.You only can do it, dear madam, let me perish!
Lyd.But why would you (of all men) practise treason against your friend Phœbus, and depose him for a mere stranger?