THE HUSBAND His own CUCKOLD.
A COMEDY.
As it is Acted at the Theater in Little Lincolns—Inn—Fields, By His MAJESTY'S Servants.
Written by Mr. John Dryden, Jun.
‘ Et Pater Aeneas, & Avunculus excitet Hector.’ Virg.
LONDON,
Printed for J. Tonson, at the Judge's-Head in Fleetstreet, near the Inner Temple-Gate, 1696.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Sir ROBERT HOWARD, &c.
ATrifle of this kind is so little worthy your attention, that I know not how to make a fair way for its appearance, and beg you to give it audience. The Muses are become so prostitute, that every Enthusiast begets a work on'em; Plays are grown meer Foundlings, and generated so fast, that we find one or more laid at the door of every Noble-Man; and these impudent Begetters are not satisfy'd that you give their unlawful Issue a maintenance and reering, but have the Conscience also to expect a Reward for easing themselves on you of their ungodly burthen. Sir, I must confess I am little better than a lewd Sinner of this Order, but have so much Grace and Modef [...]y at least to require no Recompense where I ought to be begging Pardon for committing a slip of this nature. I am confident I cou'd not chuse a more indulgent Foster-Father; and tho' my very Name bears an accusation against me, yet I have the honour also to be related to the Muses by the Mothers side; for you your self have been guilty of Poetry, and a Family Vice is therefore the more excusable in me, who am unluckily a Poet by descent. Poe [...]e is a Noble Exercise, and like a reserv'd Game seems intended wholly for the recreation of Learned Gentlemen, or such at least as have had liberal Education, and these have still succeeded best in it: But we see the illiterate breaking in daily on the Quarry, and even those assuming, to themselves the name of Poets, who never had any other call to that Art [Page] beside the hope of a third day. If one half of us who set up for making Plays, understood what Horace says in these Lines, it may be we should not vainly presume to think our selves what indeed we are not.
‘Descriptas servare Vices, operumque Colores, Cur Ego, si nequeo, ignoroque Poeta salutor.’
Shakespear among all the Writers of our Nation may stand by himself as a Phoenix, the first and last of his Order; in whom bounteous Nature wonderfully supply'd all the parts of a great Poet, and Excellent Oratour; and of whom alone one may venture boldly to say, that had he had more Learning, perhaps he might have been less a Poet. 'Tis certain the good nature of the Town suffers any thing for the sake of Novelty and Entertainment, however meagre, and the encouraging some miserable Writers, is to be allow'd more an act of Charity than Judgment; for tho' Poverty be generally the end of a Poet, I think it is but a very lamentable beginning. There is a large difference between those, who following the itch of gaining empty applause, mispend their time in writing themselves into necessity, and such who spend their time in writing themselves out of it; and where the Muse begins with the want of a Mealsmeat. The former might be any thing else better than what they chuse to be; the latter, because they can be nothing else, wou'd fain be Poets. 'Tis dangerous making a Pastime of any one thing so long, that at last we are glad to embrace it as a Profession; like those, who after they have melted all their Substance in search of the Philosopher's-Stone, are forc'd in the end to turn Chymists. But of this enough; for I am already conscious to my self of deviating something from my Theme, and can only form this application out of what I have said, that you, Sir, have prudently known how to make the best use of your Excellent Talent in this kind, by applying it to your diversion, and the unbending your Mind. By these means, you have happily given our Country a great Poet in your Writings; and at the same time have not omitted the more necessary part of giving her a Great States-Man, and Heroe; to which Emi [...]ncy your Birth, Courage, and Capacity have equally rais'd you. And shou'd I enlarge on these Heads, I am confident the World wou'd not tax me of the least flattery, and I shou'd only be guilty of not giving you your due; but you are reserv'd for a better Pen, and silence [Page] therefore is a good fault in me. I have only now to beg pardon for sending so mean a Trifle so long a Voyage; 'tis so full of faults I know not how to give it the name of a Play. The Italians when they know not what to make of a thing, call it Un Pasticcio Inglese, what kind Complement they intend our Country in the Expression I know not, but I believe they mean no better than a Hotch-podge. 'Tis my first Poetical Cookery of this sort, and whatever it be, I humbly submit it to your Censure, but more to your Patronage; and with it,
THE PREFACE OF Mr. Dryden, to his Son's Play.
I Have thought convenient to acquaint the Reader with somewhat concerning this Comedy, though perhaps not worth his knowledge. It was sent me from Italy some years since, by my second Son, to try its fortune on the Stage: And being the Essay of a young unexperienc'd Author; to confess the truth, I thought it not worthy of that honour. 'Tis true, I was not willing to discourage him so far, as to tell him plainly my Opinion, but it seems he guess'd somewhat of my Mind, by my long delays of his expectation: And therefore in my absence from the Town last Summer, took the boldness to Dedicate his Play to that Person of Honour, whose Name you will find before his Epistle. It was receiv'd by that Noble Gentleman with so much Candor and Generosity, as neither my Son nor I cou'd deserve from him. Then the Play was no longer in my power, the Patron demanding it in his own right, it was deliver'd to him. And he was farther pleas'd, during my Sickness, to put it into that Method in which you find it; the loose Scenes [Page] digested into order, and knit into a Tale. As it is, I think it may pass amongst the rest of our New Plays; I know but two Authors, and they are both my Friends, who have done better since the Revolution. This I dare venture to maintain, that the Tast of the Age is wretchedly deprav'd, in all sorts of Poetry, nothing almost but what is abominably bad can p [...]se. The young Hounds who ought to come behind, now lead the pack, but they miserably mistake the scent. Their Poets, worthy of such an Audience, know not how to distinguish their Characters; the Manners are all alike inconsistent and interfering with each other. There is scarce a Man or Woman of God's making in all their Farces: yet they raise an unnatural sort of laughter, the common effect of Buffoonry; and the Rabble which takes this for Wit, will endure no better, because 'tis above their Understanding. This account I take from the best Judges, for I thank God, I have had the grace hitherto to avoid the seeing or reading of their Gallimaufries. But 'tis the latter end of a Century, and I hope the next will begin better. This Play I dare assure the Reader is none of those; it may want Beauties, but the faults are neither gross, nor many. Perfection in any Art is not suddenly obtain'd; the Author of this, to his misfortune, left his Country at a time when he was to have learn'd the Language. The Story he has treated, was an Accident which happen'd at Rome, though he has transferr'd the Scene to England. If it shall please God to restore him to me, I may perhaps inform him better of the Rules of Writing; and if I am not partial, he has already shewn, that a Genius is not wanting to him. [Page] All that I can reasonably fear, is that the perpetual good success of ill Plays may make him endeavour to please by writing worse, and by accommodating himself to the wretched capacity and liking of the present Audience, from which, Heaven defend any of my Progeny. A Poet indeed, must live by the many, but a good Poet will make it his business to please the few. I will not proceed farther on a Subject which arraigns so many of the Readers. For what remains, both my Son and I are extreamly oblig'd to my dear Friend Mr. Congreve, whose Excellent Prologue was one of the greatest Ornaments of the Play. Neither is my Epilogue the worst which I have written; though it seems at the first sight to expose our young Clergy with too much freedom. It was on that Consideration that I had once begun it otherwise, and deliver'd the Copy of it to be spoken, in case the first part of it had given offence. This I will give you partly in my own justification, and partly too, because I think it not unworthy of your sight. Only remembring you that the last line connects the sense to the ensuing part of it. Farewell, Reader, if you are a Father you will forgive me, if not, you will when you are a Father.
Wit's not his business, &c.
PROLOGUE,
EPILOGUE.
Dramatis Personae.
- Sir John Crossit.
- Old Landy.
- Sir Timothy Shallow.
- [...]urch.
- Feewell, Kinsman to Old Landy.
- Bellville, in Love with Lucy.
- Doctor Lorman.
- Scrible, a Scrivener.
- Elliot, a Servant to Mr. Bellville's Unkle.
- Lady Crossit, Wife to Sir John.
- Mrs. Lucy, Old Landy's Daughter.
- Mrs. Lurch, Wife to Lurch.
- Phill, Woman to Mrs. Lucy.
- Grace AND Betty. Two WaitingWomen.
THE HUSBAND His own CUCKOLD.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
NEighbour Lurch, I am heartily glad to see you, but why that melancholy Face, that Countenance in Eclipse, how goes the World Man?
How goes the World, Sir John? why how should it go with a marry'd Man? I have been Marry'd a whole half year, in which time I have had more business on my hands than a Secretary of State, have rais'd more Out-works than any Governour of a Citadel to preserve my Wife's Chastity: In short, I am so broken and brought down with this blessed half year of Wedlock, that at the end of the next half, I am of Opinion I shall be Celebrated with the Anniversary of my Funeral; the Doctors have almost given me over already.
And the Midwives too, Neighbour; you have enter'd indiscreetly upon this business of Matrimony, without making some necessary reflections. Why, in the name of goodness, what cou'd provoke you with these some fifty years, as I modestly suppose on your back, at such an Age of [...]umbling to take a Girl of sifteen?
Why, Sir John? to answer you with the same freedom what you interrogate, this was my Reason; you are not ignorant, as being my Neighbour, that I have thriven in the World; having so done, I began to bethink my self of making a retreat from business, in order to enjoy the declension of my days as comfortably as I could.
In order to which, you took a Wife, a very pretty retreat from Business and the World, and an excellent Cordial for a Man in a declining Condition; then to finish the happiness of your retreat, you are most abominably jealous, and take all the care imaginable to divulge it to the World, by depriving your Wife of those Christian Liberties which all Wise Men allow theirs; as you order your affairs, Neighbour, you had as good make a publick Proclamation in the Streets of London, I have a pretty young Wife, who will make me a Cuckold, you do the same thing in effect already.
Sir John, I am oblig'd to you for the Summary you have been pleased to make of my present Condition; but methinks in the first part of your Discourse, where you take notice of the little or no Comfort there is to be had in Marriage with so small concern, you seem to forget that you your self are a marry'd Man.
Forget, say you, that would be more than any married Man in Christendom could ever do yet; but I remember it as seldom, and with as little regret as possibly I can: I have been married now these ten years, that is to say, I have served almost two Apprentiships to Matrimony, 'twere hard if I were not Master of my Vocation.
So it should seem indeed, by your advising me to allow my Wife that Christian Liberty which you say all wise Men allow theirs; 'tis a Heathen Liberty, a Crime Capital, the broad Road to Cuckoldom.
I tell you, Neighbour, you talk like a meer Novice in Matrimony, give me leave to tell you, 'tis in vain to consine them; for the more Women are constrain'd and depriv'd of Liberty, the more eager they are in the pursuit of it; if you vex them, they'll cross you, 'tis an original perverseness they inherit by Nature; why, I tell you once again they are the crooked rib of Adam, they love nothing like cross purposos.
'Tis well there are no Women here to hear you; but still I say no liberty; if I must be a Cuckold, I shall have this satisfaction at least, to be made one my own may.
'Tis pity but your Wife should give it you; i am afraid, Neighbour, I am afraid you have Capricorn gloriously ascending in your Nativity, you have a very foreboding look with you.
you that are so good at decyphering other Peoples looks, had best look at home; since I am provoked to speak my mind, I have observed that there is a certain swindging two-handed well set black Doctor, who comes very often to feel your Lady's Pulse, I think they call him the Ladies Doctor in the Town, but he looks more like a Horn Doctor; I am of opinion your Lady is not so often indispos'd for nothing.
You mean Doctor Lorman, that insignificant Fop Doctor, who has not the tenth part of the Learning of a Mountebank in LincolnsInn-Fields, a meer Crevat and Periwig one, who never knew beyond the composition of a Washball or a Pomatum, or how to prescribe a Clyster for my Lady's Lap-Dog. He is not the first Coxcomb that has pass'd with Women for a Man of Parts; but to confess freely to you, Neighbour, [Page 3] I never yet suspected my Wife's Vertue with the Doctor; I know her to be humorous and fantastick, and therefore as she is often troubled with little indispositions, I am willing to let her have the Doctor she fancies.
You take a very prudent course Sir John, according to your Maxim of Christian Liberty.
This it is to be in company with a Man that's Jealous; Neighbour, thou art just like those who are seis'd with the Plague, they are not satisfied to have the Disease themselves, but make it their business to infect others: all Husbands ought to avoid thee as the Contagion, thou art full of the Purples of Jealousie. But no more of this, here comes my Wife.
Oh! Grace, I am so very weak and faint all o'th' sudden, that except you hold me up, I shall scarely have strength to come to your Master. Oh, Sir John, where are you? I have got such a dizziness in my, head, I can scarcely see from one end of the Room to the other.
What's the matter, my Dear, what new accident has befallen you?
Oh, Sir John, no new accident, 'tis my old misfortune, the Vapours, a sudden faintness, a kind o [...] a Falling-Sickness, that reigning Disease among Ladies of Quality. Oh! dear Sir John, send quickly, before I have another Fit, for that fin [...] Doctor, who is so Famous for Curing the Ladies of their Vapours; Oh, oh, I am ready to fall, I am so faint; quickly, Sir John, quickly.
Have a little patience, my Dear, 'till I go to the door and give orders—Who's without there? d'ye hear,
Run immediately and fetch your Lady's Doctor hither, desire him to come with all possible speed.
O fie, Sir John, how you give a Message to a Doctor of such a Repute! I find I must word it my self, tho' I am so very faint. D'you hear, Fellow, run quickly to the Gentleman your Master has mention'd, and present Sir John's humble service to him, and besure you remember to give mine in particular—This Fellow's such a Sot he'll never remember half the Message—And, do you hear, let the worthy Doctor know I have had a most violent Fit of the Vapours.
O [...]ie, Sir John, what Servants you keep, what a beastly leg the Fellow has made, and dirty'd all the boards of my Room.
My Dear, you take no notice of my Neighbour Lur [...] here.
O Mr. Lur [...]h, I protest I never saw you all this while, I am utterly ashamed of my self for being so unmannerly, pray Mr. Lurch how does the good young Woman do?
Whom does your Ladyship mean, if I may be so bold?
I mean the good young Woman your Wife.
I left her at home very well, at your Ladyship's service, under Lock and Key.
I need not ask you how you like a married Life, you are but in Hony-Moon yet.
If there be a hony-Month in Marriage, I should be glad to find it; but I'll swear I have felt nothing but the Sting, without one drop of the Hony hitherto.
My Neighbour is but a meer Bridegroom yet, my Dear; by that time he has been as long Marry'd as you and I have been, he'll be able to give a good account of it. What say you, Neighhour, to ten years of Matrimony?
Why I say, Sir John, that in half that time Matrimony wou'd give a better account of me.
I protest, Mr. Lurch, I forgot to ask you one Question, is your Wife never troubled with Vapours?
O yes, of all sorts, Madam. I am sure she Hectors and Vapours me sufficiently.
'Tis a sign she is well born, for Vapours are more frequent among Persons of Quality, than those of mean Condition; I believe I▪ have the ablest Physician in all Christendom for removing of them.
Pray, Neighbour, let me recommend my Wife's Doctor to you, I'll send him to visit your Spouse to morrow, or next day, or when you will.
No, Sir John, I am in no haste, I thank you, my Wife is in no such want of a Doctor yet, as yours.
You need not fear our sending the Doctor to you, Neighbour, he's not so easily sent; he's not a Person who runs after Patients, on my word, the whole Town runs after him. But what's the reason, Neighbour, you did not bring your Wife along with you? I warrant you have left her at home all alone; sie, you do very ill, Neighbour, 'tis enough to make a young Woman grow melancholy, and despair; you ought to take her abroad, and air her sometimes.
Come, Neighbour, I know my Spouse will be glad of some Company, to pass away her indisposition; come, I won't be deny'd, you must step home now immediately and bring your Wife to us, 'tis a deed of Charity—But d'you hear, Neighbour, do not forget in returning, to come along with her.
You might have omitted your last Commands, for here's a a swindging black Doctor to be here, who looks like a Bird of Prey.
So, I have taken a very good pretence to send him for his Wife; the impertinencies of this Doctor, whom I expect every minute, will make the jealous Rogue [...]ass like a vext Wasp.
O [...], Sir John, why wou'd you send for Company? I can't endure to receive Visits when I have got the Vapours: I am so indisposed at present, I am fit only to be seen by a Physician.
I thought 'twas your desire, my Dear, I did it to procure you some Company to pass away time, and divert Melancholy, but you always pervert my good Intentions.
I'de rather you'd procure me a Physician: Oh, oh, I'm so faint again all o'th' sudden, your Arm quickly, Grace, your Arm.
Courage, Madam, here comes the Doctor.
Sir John, after having profess'd the more than ordinary Concern I had, when just now I was Informed by one of your Attendants, of the most unwelcome News of your very Honoured Lady's Indisposition; I ought to make a just Apology for my appearance in this negligent and too familiar Habit: But I have been so pursu'd and persecuted by several Persons of Honour at home, for this whole Morning, that as I am a Professor of Physick, I have not had a Minutes leisure, to compose and put▪ my self into a decent posture, in order to visit and attend those Patients, for whom I reserve so much esteem and respect, as I really do for your self, and much honour'd good Lady.
What do you think Graee, is he not a Comely, Proper, Well-set, Black Man? He's absolutely the ablest Physician in all Europe.
Worthy [...], you confound me with your Goodness. But that I may not neglect the great end for which I came hither, I must beg your permission to approach your Fair Lady, and take the Moments of her Pulse.
What a flourishing Coxcomb's this: A Patient might expire in the while he's making a Compliment of Entrance, or setting his Wig in order.
O welcome, Doctor, I have been dying for you, absolutely dying for you, I have had such a terrible [...] of the Vapours; but the very sight of you has half Cur'd me already.
Why, that is not altogether impossible, Madam, for I have had several Patients, who have protested to me, that they have discover'd, I know not how to express my self, a Jenescay quoyness in my Physiognomy, that my very first appearance, I will not say has absolutely Cur'd them, but has given them a present ease from the Distemper under which they then labour'd▪
Good Doctor feel my Pulse quickly; how does it beat? am I a Woman of this World or no?
'Tis a brawny Aesculapius, he's able to beget a whole College of Physicians.
Madam, you have a very uneven disorder'd Pulse, it beats an allarm: But I shall order you a Tizan to rectifie it immediately, as also [...] remove those Obstructions from your Head and Stomach, which gene [...]te and beget Vapours.
The Rogue has got the Trick of the French Doctors, ho prescribe a Tizan to every Disease.
Neighbour Lurch; I see you are a Man of your Word, you are doubly welcome now.
Here is that Doctor whom Heaven confound.
Doctor Lorman, this is a worthy Neighbour of mine, and this a Fair Lady call'd his Wife, whom I recommend to you as a Patient, that she may li [...] her self under the Protection of so able a Physician.
Methinks you are very forward in recommending another Man's Wife, Sir John, but I shall desire hereafter, you wou'd neither list my Wife for a Patient, nor me for a Cuckold.
Madam, I cannot but harbour an exceeding Esteem for your person, in which, at the first view, I discover such transcendant Merits, and as I have dedicated my Self and my whole Art, to the Service of the Fair Sex, I should be infinitely transported, if ever I may be able to serve you in any particular of my Profession.
Sir, I shall think my self highly honour'd, in being assisted by One, whose Famous Cures have sill'd all Eyes with admiration, and all Tongues with sufficient Matter of Discourse.
So, she's in with him already; now am I all over in a sweat, I shall have him laying his brawny Fist on her Pulse immediately.
As for my Cures, Madam, (but first let me beg the Honour of your Fair Hand to consult your Pulse) as for my Cures, I say, they speak themselves.
And though indeed my Publick Profession is of Physick, yet I dare aver, no Man in Christendom has a freer Hand in the Practical Part of Anatomy and Chirurgery.
O Lord, O Lord! but you had as good depose my Wife's Hand, Doctor, that it may not be a hinderance to your Discourse.
No, the Doctor does me a particular Favour, and if it be no burden to him, I am very well satisfied he continue it.
'Tis impossible, a Fair Lady's Hand shou'd be a burden.
I am much troubled with a Noise in my Head, Doctor.
And so am I, while your Tongue's there.
I can bear this no longer, that he shou'd Court any other Woman in my presence; I knew this devilish Company wou'd hinder me from enjoying him all my self; but I'll be even with Sir John for this.
But now I will acquaint the Company present of some precious Rarities of my own Manufacture.
I have a most approv'd water-wash for the Face, call'd my Lac Virginis, which works wonders on the Fair Sex, in clearing and beantifying their Skins; and this Rich Cosmetick not to be sold a Farthing under five Guineas the Bottle, absolutely the greatest Secret in th [...] European World.
Absolutely the greatest Cheat in the whole Universe; how the Rogue squeezes me.
Secondly, I have most precious Pomatoms of all sorts, of my own composition.
Thirdly, I have rare oyl'd Night-Gloves of right Roman Kid.
Fourthly, Plumpers for the help of decay'd Ladies who are Cheek-fallen; Lead Forehead-Pieces, all manner of Night-vizards, or Face-moulds, with several other Gallantries of great consideration and importance; but for fear of seeming vain-glorious, I shall pass by in silence the rest of my Abilities, and beg your Pardon, Madam, for keeping your fair hand a Prisoner so long, which I thus Salute, to expiate my Crime with all due—
Sir, I am no Mountebank, I wou'd have you to know I am no Mountebank; Sir, let me tell you, I seldom or never knew any Person who made a jeast of my Profession expire in his Bed—I am no Mountebank, Sir.
I know not whether I am in jeast with you or no, but I'll swear you have been in earnest with me, this hand of mine which you have worry'd so, knows it very well.
Mr. Lurch, Let me tell you that you have neither a capacity to distinguish, or good breeding in treating with such levity a Person so esteem'd for his many Vertues by all the World▪
Madam, you mortifie me with your exceeding goodness, let the Gentleman alone, he will meet with his reward one time or other, as I said before.
Doctor, will you favour me to order the Tizan you mention'd for my Wife?
You may command my Art, Sir John.
Who waits without, bring Pen, Ink, and Paper quickly.
Let your Lady take this, and I'll pawn my Art it does the business, it wants only to be superscribed; for when my Apothecary serves
a Person of Quality, he always makes use of his best Drugs.
Now you have oblig'd my Wife, Doctor, I have another Patient to recommend to you, which is my Wife's Lap-Dog, who is so troubled with the worms, he's a very pest in the house.
Sir John, I receive particular consolation in the Proposal, and declare it to be one of the chief branches of my Profession, the knowing how to Cure those tender Creatures, who are so Lady-like in their Constitutions.
What Appeliation or Nom de Guerre does your Ladyship use for your Dog, that I may superscribe?
Cupid.
His Age, Madam? that I may regulate the Dose.
Two years old since Candlemas last past.
For Mr. Cupid, Lap. Dog to the Honourable the Lady Dorothea Crossit, this will suffice.
Really I shall be overjoy'd when my Dog's Cured.
I must put an end to this impertinence, Doctor, I have some business to dispatch this Morning, and therefore must beg your leave to—
Let me see what is it a Clock, this is my Governour;
How, is't possible it can be so late, I am a ruin'd Man! certainly my Watch runs upon wheels, I shall lose my Reputation absolutely, I shou'd have made my whole tour of Patients by this time; when a Man is once become necessary to the World, he is a Slave ever after. Ladies, I must suffer an unwilling divorce from your fair Companies.
Adieu, Doctor.
Adieu, dear Madam.
Adieu, dear, dear Doctor. Your Fee, Sir John your Fee quickly, and remember my Dog's Fee.
You must force him to take it, my Dear; he's so modest.
O Lord! Sir John, what do you mean to do? O pray, Sir John, what do you mean? Sir John; your most humble Servant.
You shall give me leave to wait on you down Stairs.
Sir John, my Wife and I have been troublesom too long to you and your Lady, and therefore will take our leaves also.
I hope, Madam, I shall find another occasion to shew how much I am your Ladyship's most humble Servant.
Madam, you may command me; you will pardon me that I leave Sir John to accompany you; I am so faint with the Vapours, I dare not venture out of doors.
Repose your self, my Dear, in your Chamber, and leave me to [...]rve the Company.
Ay, you are much discompos'd, Madam.
I am all confusion, prithee call 'em to Sing the Song I love.
SONG.
D'ye hear, shut the door close: Well, we Ladies of Quality are all Slaves to our Waiting-Women. We are forc'd to trust them with our Secrets, and then they become our Mistresses:
Have you shut the Door?
I have lock'd it on the inside, Madam.
Do you remember, how many Rich Gowns and Petticoats, how many lac'd Pinners, Hoods, Scarfs, and Nightrails, I have given you, since the three Years you have serv'd me, together with many other Vails, Perquisites, and Profits you have enjoy'd in my Service?
What Tune will this Prelude end in, I wonder!
I do not call to mind my Favours; implying, that you are ungrateful; but only to encourage you to persevere in the Love and Duty you owe me, and in that Faithfulness and Secresie I have always found in you. Secresie, Grace, is a most necessary Gift and Accomplishment, for one in your Station.
'Tis a Gift with which very few of our Sex are bless'd.
Art thou sure thou can'st be Secret Proof.
I think I am, Madam.
But 'tis such a Secret, that if ever it shou'd be discover'd, especially by my Husband, I am a ruin'd Wife for ever. Hast thou the gift of Secresie? May I make thee my Confessour? But first to stop thy Mouth, I give thee that fresh Manteau and Petticoat I wore yesterday.
Now, Madam, I am sure I have the Gift of Secresie, you may Confess with safety.
Swear thou wilt be true to me.
What Oath shall I [...] by [...] [...]hat?
Swear by any [...], [...] [...].
[...]hen, may I never wear [...]ood, Scarf, Manteau, or Petticoat, more of your Ladyships, when ever I am guilty of betraying my Trust.
Well, I must tell thee then, I am in Love, Grace! O that Doctor, that Doctor, that Charming Doctor, I dye for him!
'Tis pity your Ladyship shou'd dye for want of a Physician.
O, this Doctor will be the Death of me.
That may be too, for 'tis one part of his Profession.
Didst thou never observe, how often I have chan [...]d Colour at the sight of Dr. Lorman, my frequent Sighs, and languishing Looks, that have spoke too plainly my Passion?
Yes, indeed, I always thought your Ladyship had a kind of a grudging to him.
Ah, wou'd it were no worse; I love him even to Madness.
Nay, now I find your Ladyship is [...] a desperate Condition.
Well, since I have made thee my Confident, I must inform thee what Service thou must do me in this Business. Knowing my Husband was to go to Barnet this day, and not return till to Morrow Morning, I went privately yesterday to the Change, and bought a dozen of the finest Holland Shirts, lac [...]d with the best Flanders Lace I cou'd lay hands on: These I have put up in a Band-Box, and intend you shall convey 'em to Dr. Lorman, in form of a Present.
A whole dozen of Shirts! does your Ladyship intend he shall wear 'em all out in your Service?
Leave your idle Questions: I intend to place a Letter in the Band-Box, which will sufficiently unriddle the meaning of my Favours.
I think the Riddle of your Favours is not so very dark, that it should want an Explanation: Those Coats of Arms, as soon as seen, are blazon'd; and declare your Ladyship of the Family of Love, without a Herald to pronounce it.
However, don't you fail in your Duty, and when the Doctor Reads my Letter, be sure you say a world of tender Things to him, such as I wou'd, were I present; thou hast Wit at command.
I warrant you, Madam, he's ours; he must be a Doctor of Marble, to resist such a Letter as you have writ. Besides, there's a Present will bring him with a Vengeance.
ACT II.
SCENE the Street.
DEar Harry, well met, may I presume to guess whither you are bound in such haste?
No, my Friend, I'll ease you of that trouble, and let you know I am bound with all my Sails full to the Port of Love; Mrs. Lucy, your fair Cousin, Rich old Landy's Daughter.
'Tis as I thought, you are a happy Man, you have the young Lady's heart, and [...]er Father's liking, you cannot fail of making a prosperous Voyage, and carrying the Golden-Fleece off in Triumph.
True indeed, I steer as [...] with fair weather, and a prosperous gale in sight of the Port; but, my Friend, there are so many Sands, Rocks, and shallows to be pass'd e'er I can enter, that if a Man be not an expert Pilot indeed, he may perhaps founder in sight of it. I shall never think my self out of danger, 'till I have cast Anchor in the Harbour.
Never doubt, your Person, Vertues, and Repute you have in the World, with the deserts of a Thousand Pounds a year, are sufficient to secure you, without other helps.
Of which I must own your Friendship to be the chief; but why does old Landy torture me thus with these delays and puts off? it throws me into continual agonies, and [...].
O my Friend, these Rich old miserable Fathers are always more considerate than other Men, they never clap up a Marriage in haste, but haggle to the last farthing, and love to have a lumping Penniworth of a Husband.
I wish he were less Rich, then I wou'd convince him I value not his paltry dust, and that I Court your fair Cousin for her own sake, not for the sake of what he has to give her—But 'tis late, and I must follow where my heart is gone before me.
I am just now come from thence, and as soon as I have dispatch'd a word of business, at a house within half a stones cast, I shall be back again there as soon as you; for I have to tell you, that I have already [...]ngag'd old Landy and his Daughter to be merry at a Dinner I have [...] for 'em, where you, dear Harry, must oblige me to make one. Besides, you may have known that Lurch the Landlord of the [...] where they lodge, has newly marry'd a young brisk Wife, with whom I have a small Intrigue in Embrio. My design is to get this young [...] of [...] dinner along with us, in which I desire your [...] my return, for the beast is not a little jealous of her; he has carried her abroad somewhere this Morning, and was not return'd home when I left old Landy.
Ah, Ned, Ned, wilt thou never leave this single sinful way of living? hadst thou not as good take up in time, and end honourably in Matrimony?
I have no design to make an end so honourable as yet, this little World and I have something more to say to one another e'er we part. Well, fare you well, I'll be with you in a minute.
Where's my Father, Phil?
Cou'dst thou not distinguish any?
O Mr. Bellville, what, in your old pursuit?
Save you, Mr. Landy.
What a Devil brings this ill-look'd [...]?
But I hope you are not engag'd?
Why, why, good Mr. Scrible?
How, how, two Thousand a year?
Umh, this is very unlucky.
You [...] troubled, Sir.
A little, Mr. Scrible.
Do you not like my Proposition?
What, Sir—you are much concern'd.
A little, Mr. Scrible— [...]—two Thousand a year.
I am unlucky.
I hope you have not [...] your self?
But have you [...] any Agreement?
And was this all?
But your Reputation, Sir,
But, Sir.
See where he comes.
Bless me, what a Figure 'tis.
He is very welcome, Mr. Scrible.
Yes, Sir, such as she is.
With all my Heart, Mr. Scrible.
Come, Sir Timothy, time calleth upon us.
'Tis insupportable to think of losing her.
Are you sure you are perfect in your Message?
I like the Contrivance very well, however let me alone to guide him to take up the Linen, and to put his hand upon it.
Grace, is't you, what makes you start so?
To see your Worship return'd so soon.
Retir'd to her [...].
Some things that belong to my Lady.
What things?
'Tis nothing but foul Linen indeed, indeed, Sin
I'le see that immediately.
O Mercy, Mercy, and I'le discover all.
If he looks any further, he certainly discovers the Letter; and I am ruin'd.
Item another—But what does this Letter do here?
To the Dear Idol of my Soul.
This looks like my Wif [...]'s Fenwork;
But now for the Contents.
And so forth in Doggrel quite [...]o the bottom: What can this LoveStuff mean? But hold, here's a Post-scribble, I think in Prose; what says this?
Dir Doctor, my Husbane is gon to Barnit this Ivining, and duz not cum bak tel cummorro mornin; the Nits are long and coll'd, and I am not accost [...]'d to ly alon, bein firful [...]; I think no Parson so we [...] quallifid to gard my Hon [...]s, as you ar, and therfor [...] bold to beg yor swet Company to Nit, excuse this [...] Lins, from hur, who is alw [...]s yor most umbel Sarvant:
[Page 25]This is some of her own Ingenious Stile and Spelling; However, there's Sense enough in it to make me a Cornuto.
Pray, Madam, what was your Ladyship to have for the Postage of this important Letter; what reversion of the next Sattin Gown or Silk Petticoat have you been promis'd for this great Piece of Bawdy Service?
O Mercy, Mercy; Pardon me but this one time, and I'le never do so again.
That [...]ealous Rogue, Lurch, who suspects all Wives as well as his own, was in the right I find.
Well I will be Merciful for once to you, but on these Conditions, that you [...]cerely unravel the very bottom of this Intrigue to me; and Secondly, that you keep my Counsel, as you have kept my Wife's.
The bottom of the Intrigue is this; my Lady, who is deeply Enamour'd of this ugly Fellow of a Doctor, went yesterday privately to the Change, and bought those dozen of Shirts you have discover'd in the Band-Box; and order'd me just now to deliver them with this Letter, as a Present to him in her Name; the rest you may easily understand by the Letter you have Read.—I believe my good Angel was the cause of your unexpected return; for just at that very Moment when you surpriz'd me, I had a qualm of Consclence, and was ready to wave my Commission. Thought I, what, shall I be accessary to the wronging so sine a Gentleman, as your Worship is, for the sake of that ugly Blackamoor Doctor. Thought I, I'le never do it:—Your Worship's a [...]ine Gentleman: I wonder ind [...]d, how my Lady can have the Heart to fall in love with such an ugly Monster, when she has so fine a Gentleman as your Worship for her Husband.
Well, well, I am glad to be thought so by thee, thou art a forward Girl, I have alwaies had a particular Esteem for thee, and am resolved to continue it.
The Baggage is full of Wit, and taking; I have had a liking to her long ago.
But d'you hear, if you intend I should Seal your Pardon, you must now do me a piece of Service.
Any thing, Sir, to serve you, and to shew I intended you no wrong.
Then thus; you must keep all secret from your Lady that has pass'd, or is to pass between us two: In the next place, you shall pretend to have deliver'd the Message and Present to the Doctor; and acquaint your Lady he will wait on her at the time appointed; and I instead of goi [...]g to [...] will take Possession of the Shirts, and play the Doctor in [...] this very Night.
But how will your Worship do, not to be discover'd who you are?
Why thus: I intend to come late, and you shall order it so, that my Wife shall expect me in Bed; I shall have nothing upon me but a Night-gown, and when I am just ready to enter her Room, you shall immediately let the Light fall, or snuff it out, as by chance, so that I being undress'd, and having nothing to do, but to step into the Bed to her, there will be no occasion of lighting the Candle again.
So far all goes well: But how will your Worship do not to be known by Talking, and in the Morning before your departure?
That's easie still, for my Voice, when I talk in a whispering Tone, will not be distinguish'd. Then I intend to put on one of the lac'd Shirts, which will favour my design still more: As for my parting undiscover'd in the Morning, thou know'st 'tis late before the day breaks this Winter Season, and I design to leave her before 'tis light, pretending fear of being seen to Morrow by the Neighbourhood, in the absence of her Husband.
You have answer'd all my Objections, and I promise to serve your Worship faithfully.
Do so, and I'le not only forgive thee what's past, but also Reward thee Nobly—Be sure you take care your Lady knows nothing of this my sudden return by means of any in the Family.
There's no fear I believe of that, for she's retir'd to her Chamber, has there shut her self up, to Meditate, as she told me, and will speak to no body all this Afternoon but me; when I return as she imagines from the Doctor.
Well, I'le slip aside 'till about Eleven at Night, at which Hour expect my Return, and get all things ready.
Your Worship shall be serv'd punctually, leave it to my Management.
ACT III.
SCENE in Lurch' s House.
What wou'd you say if Mr. Feewel shou'd come to you now?
I hope you'l be Civil to him, Madam, if he shou'd come?
'Tis Feewel, on my life; I tremble all o'er.
O Heavens! who's that, my Husband?
No, 'tis Mr. Feewel, Madam.
That was the chie [...]est motive of my coming, Child.
Bless me, what do you mean to do, Mr. Feewell?
O my Husband, my Husband, what shall we do?
Where, where? O my Papers, my Papers.
O Betty! I hope the Fire's out?
Yes, Madam, you ne [...]d not be afraid.
I think that's pretty well perform'd already.
Forgive me, very good, forgive me!
Excellent! come, we'll go in and consider the Matter; If any one wilfully destroys himself, they say he's felo de se, she shan't have cause to call me Cuckold de se, I'll not be Jilted out of my Care and Vigilance:
SCENE II. of the Third Act.
For my part, Sir Timothy, I'like an honest plain Country Gentlem [...]n, there's no tricks cover'd in fine words to abuse one another; a Civil-war of Tongues in this Town rages perpetually.
Nay, in good faith, Ise carry your Daughter to Peace and Plenty, and shew you how well I like her, Ise make a Thousand a year Joynter.
Enough, enough, good Sir Timothy, and I will give the Girl a Portion proportionably.
It is then meet that you sign these short Articles accordingly.
Curse on' em, what [...] they make; 'slife they give us no time for invention, we might else try to bribe that Scribling Cur, he wou'd bark on any side for Money
I am so confounded, that my Thoughts justle and crowd one another into confusion.
Look, Feewell;
See where that Sunshine comes, over-cast with a soft show'r—O, my dear Lucy, while this gentle pity blesses my Soul with joy; the cruel fears of losing you, blasts all the springing Comfort, and withers into sorrow.
How cruel is a Father, to make the Life he g [...]ve so miserable, as mine must be!
O Mistress, we are all undone, I peept into my Master's Closet, and there's the Bumkin Knight and he, Signing and Sealing, and that Ink-Bottle Rascal, busie in [...]iverting the Papers.
This is worst of all.
I am lost beyond Redemption, there's no avoiding this ruin, unless fair Lucy will fly with me, and in my Fortune find shelter from this storm.
Alas, I dare not! I cannot fly from that which Heaven makes my Duty.
Mr. Bellville, there's a Gentleman without, come Post from the Country, who desires to speak with you.
Let him come in—
How! Elliot—what News with you?
Very sad, Sir, at least to me, your Uncle my good Master is dead, and has left all his Estate to you, Real and P [...]rsonal: [...] [...] Letter from his Steward, Mr. Trusty, who keeps all things in qulet Possession for you, and desires you to hasten down with all the speed you can.
'Tis so—My Uncle was lately in good Health.
Yes, Sir, but died suddenly of an Appoplex, I lost a good Master.
And you have found another, if you please, Elliot.
I thank you, S [...]r, what order do you please to take for going?
D'ye know my Lodging, Elliot?
Yes, Sir, I was directed from thence to find you here.
Go thither then, and refresh your self, I believe you [...]ave Rid hard, I have some [...] that I must look after; but I'le come thither with all the speed I can, and then order every thing.
I'le wait there for you, Sir.
This is very [...]lucky, wou'd this News had come a little sooner, this Argument wou'd Convert the Old Gentleman to the Religion of our side.
But I fear 'tis gone too far.
'Twill turn him again, and fet him, like a wind mill, to [...]all with the wind that changes, and turn off the Knight, as he did the Squire.
But if he has Sign'd Covenants, he'll never venture the battle of a Suit of Law, he dreads a Writ, as he wou'd a piece of Canon [...] him.
'Slife, how dull we are; yet if we cou'd make him of our Party, there might be some contrivance to [...] this Knight [...] upon a wrong Adventure.
'Tis possible this additional Consideration might incline his [...] Prudence, but I fear 'tis too late.
Mistress, I have a Fancy come into my Head, that may do.
P [...]thee Phill, let's hear it.
Nay, 'tis a very pretty one, and tends to no less than to make my self a Lady.
On my Life, I have hit on the same fancy with Phill.
Mine is to pack the Cards upon him, and shuffle me to turn up instead of my Mistress.
Say no more, Phill, I have it all; thou art the [...]ather, and I the Mother of this Plot; let me alone to shape it, now thou hast got it.
But dear Cousin Feewell, what is't.
Say no more, but let me alone with my Cousin Landy, you [...]ellville shall be Taught your Part in good time, and you Cousin Lucy have nothing to say, but to have and to hold, after the Parson.
You intend, I suppose, to draw my Old Master into the Plot. It cannot fail; he will certainly take the Bait, and then Mistress, I must take place of you.
With all my Heart, Phill; thou dost deserve it for taking mine.
Come, no Words, nor Conjuring up Doubts, withdraw all, and leave me to Assault this Castle of Treasure, which is unfortified to hold out against such Batteries as I shall raise against him, observe well your Parts. One thing I had forgot; you Bellville, you must seem a little cold, [Page 34] as if your new Fortune, and being so ill us'd by him had chill'd your passion for his Daughter; stay, give me the Letter, now be gone, while I wait for his bolting out.
Heaven prosper your attempt.
They are gone in time, see where the Squadron comes, led by Captain Scrible, having, I suppose, newly Sign'd the Treaty.
Give you joy, Mr. Landy, and you, Sir Timothy; I suppose you have no business more for me at present, I must hasten and provid [...] other Matters necessary for the Wedding.
Do, good Mr. Scrible.
Nay, I must about Matters too, in good faith; [...] [...]mble the Parson, time, and place together, I long y faith to make Mrs. Lucy the Lady Shallow, and Ise return quickly.
The sooner the welcomer, good Son, as I think I may now call you.
And I hope I may call you Father, and get a little Son to make you a great Father.
Lustily spoke y faith, Sir Timothy, and I'll give it a Father's Blessing.
And in gud faith Ise [...]asten to get it, so farewell 'till then; Ise quickly come to fetch my Lady, to encrease the Family of the Shallowe.
So, all goes well. Pretty y faith! they would have p [...]swaded me to take Ninepence for a Noble; very pretty y faith. O [...] Fe [...]well, your Servant.
I waited to speak with you, Cousin.
What, about the old Story? Pray Cousin Feeweell give off the pursuit of that Matter, 'tis a cold scent, and I am engag'd, fully engag'd.
I hope not, Sir, for 'tis a new Matter I have to acquaint you with.
New Matter, pish, what new Matter! my Daughter's my Daughter, and my Care of her the same▪ and a Thousand a year is but a Thousand a year, and two Thousand is two Thousand; and I must desire Mr. Bellville to forbear further troubling himself, and me.
I wish, Sir, ne may not too readily comply; he had your Promise, and I assure you, resents his injury.
I think I did utter a hasty word, or so, but two Thousand a year is a very good Ex [...]use:
But almost three Thousand is a better Argument.
In short, Sir, I resolv'd, without Mr. Bellvill's leave, to acquaint you that his Uncle is dead, and has left him above Fifteen Hundred a year, besides a great Personal Estate.
How, Cousin, sure this is a devise?
Read this Letter, and if your Opinion holds, you will repent what you now joy in.
By my life 'tis so indeed; nay, I have heard his Unkle had such a fair Estate. O Mr. Feewell, what have I done?
I hope nothing but what may be undone.
O yes, Cousin, that scrible scrable Rasc [...]l has fetter'd me in Articles, to get his Fee.
Not so fast, I hope, but that you may get loose.
O impossibl [...], they'll clap Writs upon me, and toss me into the Spiritual Court, where no flesh ever 'scap'd destruction.
I am very much troubled, is there no Remedy?
O I would there were, Cousin, you know I ever esteem'd Mr. Bellvill's Person.
I must confess I wonder'd you were so suddenly fond of this Knight, of the ill-favour'd Countenance; besides, you knew your Daughter lov'd Bellville, some Consideration should have been had of her Content.
Alas! 'twas for her sake; care of her, care of her; 'tis very unfortunate, had this News come but a day sooner.
That's not to be helpt now, if I were you, I'de stand the [...].
No, Cousin, I'de as willingly Death should Arrest me as a Serjeant, and had as good almost fall into the hands of the Hangman, as the Lawyers; besides publick shame, Cousin.
Wou'd you be truly and heart [...]ly pleas'd, if a way might be found to set you safely free, and Bellville [...] have your Daughter?
Cousi [...], Cousin, with all my Soul, I have found this Knight to be Sir Shallow, indeed a very Coxcomb.
And will you steadily act in the [...], if a handsome one be contriv'd?
Most chearfully, Cousin, trust me, most willingl with my best skill and power. But d'ye hear, Cousin, will not this great addition of [...]ortune, joyn'd to the unhappy usage of Mr. Bellville, make him flye off?
'Troth he is something grumb upon the Matter, but 'tis possible his love for your Daughter may overcome.
Perswade him, good Cousin, work him into easiness, and forgiven [...]; I always esteem'd his Person, desire him to believe it from a penitent and hasty Father; good Cousin can you tell where we may find him?
Easily, Sir, for I left him taking his leave of his Mistress, I saw her begin to put finger in eye.
Then I fear he'll fall off. Call 'em in, good Cousin, and assist me [...]n that you say is your own design; call 'em in, good Cousin, and indeavour to soften him by the way; tell the Girl I charge her to look kindly [...] him.
Well, Sir, I'll try my utmost—
B [...]t be sure, Sir, to be very kind to him.
Doubt it not in the least. Now am I to go to Sentence and Repentance, and my Pennance will be (no doubt on't) an additional Portion; how this Earthquake of Land has shaken me? No matter, if the Plot be well laid, and succeeds, I shall be contented, and my poor Gi [...]l will be pleas'd. And I consider, when Riches give me leave, that the truth on't is, this Knight is a very Coxcomb, and my Daughter had been as well dispos'd of in a deep Well, as to this Shallow; what Troubles have I twisted my self into! O these Girls, these Girls, every one of them gives as much trouble as a Leash of Boys, they must be rear'd like Or [...]ngeTrees in a cold Country, kept within doors, and carefully hous'd; what a happiness it would be for Parents, were there an Insurance-Office [...]or getting Boys instead of Girls, any Wise Man wou'd give Ten in the Hundred to have his Wife Insur'd. Soft, they come—I see my Cousin Feewell is working the Matter.
Have you any Commands for me, Sir?
I wish Mr. Bellville I had the power to Command you, but I am now the Petitioner for what you once desir'd.
I do not understand you, Sir.
I think you once desir'd Lucy.
I did, Sir.
And now, Sir, I desire you should have her.
Once indeed, Sir, you seem'd to be of that mind, but presently I was forbid to hope that happiness.
I was too hasty I confess, and if you still love my Daughter, she shall plead my excuse. Speak to him, huzzy.
What shou'd I say, Sir?
What shou'd I say! when I scrupled at your having Mr. Bellville; then you cou'd interrupt me with your chattering, and now forsooth, you can't speak; look kindly on him, and win him into kindness and forgiveness.
You hear, Mr. Bellville, what my Father says, if you lov [...] me still.
Well said, my best Girl, y faith, that was a devilish look; can you resist it, Mr. Bellville?
I must ever love Mrs. Lucy, I dare not deny that powerful truth; but to what purpose is all this discourse? I hear you are engag'd to Knight-hood.
Then let me speak, I have promis'd my Cousin Landy to find a way to free him from that engagement; he joyfully con [...]ents to act his part in the Plot, and if you love Mrs. Lucy still; she shall be yours.
With an addition of Portion, Mr. Feewell, to express my esteem of you.
Come, [...], Mrs. Lucy shall be yours; but no more words, we'll in, [...] our Design, which I think cannot fail; Phill is one of the Party, Sir.
She's honest, I dare swear.
At this time especially, when my own advantage Rewards me for it.
You must be sure, Madam Phil. that must be, under pretence of Modesty, to [...] ordel and mu [...]le your self with Hoods, that the Knight may not discover.
Trust that to my management.
[...] Mrs. Lucy, when the Knight comes next to make his last Claim, you must manage your Hoo [...] so as to be a pattern for Phil. But now let's withdraw, and perfect [...] Design.
SCENE Changes to the Street.
Well, I must rid my self of these Lodgers, for as long as they domineer, at this rate, I shall never be Master of my own House, or my Wife; at the end of this [...] I shall [...] old Landy to remove himself, his Daughter, and the rest of his Luggage; as long as they are here, this Feewell will have a [...] upon my House, under pretence [...] coming to [...] Landy. B [...]des, wherever a Rich young Heiress lives, all the young [...] and starch'd [...] of the Town, come buzzing about that House all day long, like so many Bees about a Hive, and the Servants need have no other business, than to open the door to Penny-Post Men, and [...] in the shape of Porters.
Who dost thou [...] gave this [...] [...] to thee?
Sir, it was given me by a Woman in [...]aste, just at the turning of the last Street.
[...] you so! This is Feewell, I know the voice. I'll venture to draw nearer, and observe him a little; 'tis late in the Evening, and [...] not easily discover me.
At the Corner of the [...] Street! [...] thou so? I have a strong guess, before I open it, from whence it comes.
So have I, I'll swear.
Yes, it is that Dear Creature, Lurch his Wife, as I imagin'd.
Yes, 'tis that dear Devil, as I imagin'd too.
Sir, To Morrow at Three of the Clock in the Afternoon, my Husband goes Abroad, to Accompany the Corps of a deceased Friend; this is to let you know, I expect your Company in my [...] at that [...], begging that you wou'd not omit so blessed an Opportunity.
To make me a Cuckold.
I shall impatiently wait you at the Place appointed, [...] without Seconds; if you are a Man of Honour do not fail me, who am yours, &c.
No Seconds, said she? tho, by her leave, I intend to make a third, to hinder the effusion of Christian Blood.
Yes, fair Inviter, I will meet thee.
O thou dear expected Hour of Three in the Afternoon to Morrow, how long wil [...] thou [...] coming? How shall I be able to pass my time away with Patience? To Night I'le go in search of Bellwille, or pick up some other intimate Acquaintance, with whom I may be free, and over a Glass of Life-giving Liquor, I'le heighten Humour, and Enjoy my Friend.
To Morrow for my Mistr [...]ss.
Your Mistress, and my Wife—Hence forward I shall never wonder at these Billet-douxs, for being made up in the fashion of Horns—Blessed Opportunity, and Man of Honour—O sine Age!
O dainty fine Age! O delicious Age!
What a Wife of defiance have I got?
O Husbands, Husbands, you that are fast in the Lobs-Pound of Matri [...]mony, behold, and pity your Poor Fellow su [...]rer: Was it not sufficient that we entred the Prison voluntarily but we must bind our selves over to such good Behaviour, and give such swinging Security for our staying there? We have all paid dearly for our Peeping and [...].
ACT IV.
A Night Scene.
I Am got loose from her Ladyship at last! Never was Poor Man so put to it, to play the Lover with his own Wife! One such another Night, wou'd have forc'd me to have cross'd the Cudgels, and confess'd the Husband in my own defence.
Sir John, Sir John, is it you?
Yes, 'tis I, all that's left of me.
I heard your Wors [...]ip come out of my Lady's Chamber; I hav'n't Slept a [...]ink all this Night, for fear my Lady should have discover'd you, and I was terribly afraid she had, because I heard her make a Noise, and cry out, as I thought—just when yo [...] Worship left her.
Thou are in the right, the Out-cry was made by my Wife, but not because she discover'd me.
Why was it then?
'Twas because I [...] her a [...] [...]ort of a [...] at my parting, instead of a more civil good Morrow, she might reasonably have expected from me.
I cannot comprehend your meaning, Sir.
To be more [...], I have [...] Marks of Remembrance behind me, on her Ladyship's Face, with these Ten Executioners, that the Doctor will not be able [...] Cure them this Month, with all his Art; in short, I Counterfeited the Madman all [...] sudden, rose from her Bed in a Clap of [...], like [...] from his Mistress, and have left such a storm of my Fingers ends on her Visage, that she writes no more Love-Letters in haste, I [...]. But d'you hear; Go you up to your Lady immediately, and strive to [...] her as well as you can, and above all, be sure you tell her, you have [...] the Doctor is given to be Lunatick [...] certain [...]. Go get you gone, you'll find I have lock'd the door upon her. In the mean time, I'll dress my self abroad in my Riding Habit, in order to return home again, as from the Country. Do as I bid you, and leave the rest to me.
Well, I will go to her, [...] you have Commanded me, tho' I tremble at the approaching storm.
(alone)
The Plot's admirably laid, it can't miss, I can't but be pleas'd to think my poor Girl shall be pleas'd too. To say the truth▪ Mr. Bellvill's an honest Worthy Gentleman; she had almost as good have been coupled to one of his Hounds, as to this Knight; but he'll not be unprovided of a Wife; and o' my Conscience Phil. will make one good enough for him.
O Sir Tim [...]y; wellcome, I see you hasten Matters.
In geud faith Ise have been us'd to pursue the Chase, when I like my Game.
Nay, I must confess, I think Lucy is a fair Quarry.
And [...] run her down I [...] you; I pray call my Mistress, Ise let her know I have provided all things, and the mickle Man of God waits ready for us.
Without there, bid my Daughter Lucy come presently.
Ise quickly gang into the Country with her; I am here like one that has lost his way in the night. I hope, Father Landy, we shall see you at Shallow-Hall, [...] faith the Bells [...]all twang it away, to bid you wellcome.
Thank you Son, all in good time.
Why, how now, what [...] up? here's Sir Timo [...] come to carry you to Church, are you ready?
Yes, Mistress, and y faith Ise gang thither more [...], than ever I did to say my Prayers.
Why, how now Girl, look up; and speak to Sir [...], what, whimpering [...] a [...]? what say you, Girl, not a word?
What you please, Sir.
You must excuse her, she's so bashful she can't look up.
'Tis the fashion when Women are going to be Married, they all seem fearful. Why, there was Jane [...] of our Town, I was [...] vited to the Wedding, she never held up [...] head all the while, but whimpering, and [...] she liked the Fellow well enough.
Besides, Sir Timothy, you may excuse her, she's a fond Girl, and must leave a fond Father; come, hold [...] thy head, my Child.
No matter, Father, Ise warrant you, Ise blink upon her face hereafter, and gudfaith shew it in the North, where there is ne'er such another; Ise carry them the Northern Star.
Notably said, in troth.
[Page 41]How now, Mr. Bellville, what brings you at this time of day?
You may easily guess, Sir, I come to demand my Right.
Your Right, [...] your Right?
Your [...], [...] if you [...] just [...] word.
Mr. [...], my Daughter's dispos'd of, and I am bound in Covenants to this Worthy Knight.
'Tis e'en so, [...], and Ise [...] keep her.
You shall neither do't with ease or safety, I shall not quickly submit to such an injury.
Nay, geud [...], if you are angry, you may turn the [...] of your Girdle behind you.
Are you, Madam, consenting to my injury and ruine?
I must obey my Father, Sir.
That's my good Girl. In troth, Mr. Bellville, I esteem you, and wish you well, heartily well [...] and if you wish my Daughter well, I hope you will not [...] to hinder her good Fortune; let that prevail with you to excuse me; Care of a Child, Mr. Bellville is excusable in a Father; I do not doubt, Sir, but [...] Merits will make you happy in another.
Faith, Bellville, this is gone so far, that I could wish you might desist, if possible.
I thank you, good [...], I pray you good Mr. Bellville, you see? tis impossible for me to go back now.
But I can Sue you upon your I [...].
But I have Signed nothing.
Come, Bellville, a Law-Suit will but bring trouble to you [...], let me beg you to desist.
Since I must obey my Father, you will but [...] a storm upon us all.
Nay, Mrs. since you are of the Party, I must submit.
In [...], Mr. Bellville, this is very kind, and I wish you had another Lady at the same time, to make you happy, [...] I may [...] your Wedding-Feast.
Why, on my [...] that may be▪ if Bellville will; I know a Lady that has lov'd him long, and deserves [...], or any one. Now to make all things clear, and that the World may see that you are dis [...] from your Promise, I would propose that Bellville should be Mrs. Lucy's Father, and give her in the Church, and permit me to fetch the fair Lady that loves [...] and I to be her Father, and give her Bellville at the same time.
Geud faith, a rare Contrivance.
Since I have [...] to [...] Mrs. Lucy, I can [...] submit to all the rest.
I am for [...] you, Mr. Bellville.
Y Gud Faith, Sir, Ise ever be your Servant; and if I should have the good For [...] to see you at Shallow Hall, Ise make you welcome, and shew you good Sport. I have good [...], and a [...] of good Hounds as [...] away; and when we have done our Chase, then what [...] think we [...] y' [...] e'en [...] it away to my Neighbour Allens, and there [...] off a [...] of [...] Ale, and all the while John Slouch, the [...] Piper in the North of England, plays to us; and afterwards every one trips off a Jigg cleverly away.
Who are your best Jiggers, Sir Ti [...]?
Geud Faith, I have a man without, ee'n [...], that foots it as well as the best.
Pray, Sir Timothy, oblige us all with the fight of it.
Mar [...]y, with all my Heart: Call in my man Jonny.
Geud Faith you must trip a [...] my [...] ▪
[...] can they play John [...] his [...]?
Yes, I warrant you: Strike [...] there.
I protest, Son, you are a [...] Gentleman, you have half celebrated your own Wedding.
Come, let's dispatch then, for I am to [...] a Bride too.
Come, Child, make your self ready; you'l acquaint them, Sir Timothy, where they must come.
Aye marry, and fetch the [...], [...] meet [...] at the ChurchDoor.
Go, Lucy, and make your self ready. So, [...], prosperity attend you; and in [...], you Mr. Bellvile, in your new Lady.
——Excellent, it goes smoothly on all. I'll send and invite my Friends, especially Sir▪ John Crossit and his Lady, and [...]. [...], [...] his Wife.— [...], [...]; Lucy: will have [...]. They that have most Wealth, have most Worship: I remember a most pertinent parcel of Verses on the Subject of Riches.
SCENE the Third, which opens, and [...] Lady Crossit in an Undress.
O Grace, I am undone for ever, This Devilish inhumane Doctor has ruin'd my Face to that degree, 'twill never be my own agen! What could move this Cruel Monster to use me thus?
Madam, I [...] told for [...], [...] I [...] gave credit to it 'till now; that [...] some very extravagant. [...].
It must be so, Grace; for no man living, in his right Senses, would have [...] a Woman at such a [...]: A Woman that lov'd him too passionately—O my Face!
Ah! poor Lady, my very Heart bleeds for you: Did you perceive no [...]. Madam, lin [...], Senses, no alteration of his Carriage before the Morning?
None, that I remember; no discomposure of his Carriage, but what was very agreeable. I had no cause to complain of him the first part of the Night.
These men who study hard, are often given to odd Fancies, and [...] Madness; but to show it in such an unnatural way, is something more than one would have suspected.
Madam, Sir John is [...] from [...] ▪
O Grace, what shall I do now▪ What Excuse shall I make for my Face? say quickly, or I am ruin'd for ever; Sir John will ask me twenty questions why I am so bepatched.
Tell him any thing, Madam; that you have had a Fit of the Vapours, the Swimmings in the Head, and have got a Fall, and so hurt your [...], or any thing [...] that comes [...] Head first; if a Woman sets her self to [...], she? [...] an [...] worth a [...].
I am so distracted, I can [...] think or say any thing.
Lay your self down quickly then, and receive Sir John in your Bed, as becomes your [...].
Had I receiv'd no other, besides Sir John, I had never been so [...]. I [...] my [...].
Hark, I hear him [...]; [...] to accost him, and put the best Face on the Business I [...].
What ails your Lady, Grace? the Servants tell me she is very ill.
O Sir! there's my poor Lady; she has had a most violent Fit of th [...] Vapours, and spoil'd all her Beauty with an unlucky fall.
Ah my poor Dear; how is it? are you not [...]—with fulling?
Ah Sir John, my Face, my [...], my Face, has receiv'd all the [...]; my [...] is [...] very Soul of my Body; I am hurt in the very Soul, [...] John.
I find Women have [...] then.
[...] shall we [...] you, my [...]? [...] find your [...]?
Troubl'd with a [...], Sir John.
But has not the Doctor been with you yet.
O no, Sir John▪
Why, what a neglect's that? [...], look [...] your L [...]dy, that see she wants nothing, while I my self go for the [...].
No Doctor, I beseech you, my Dear; don't put your self to these perpetual Expences.
I take it unkindly of you, my Dear, that you should think I grudge to give a Guinea or two to do you good; my whole Estate is too little for such a Wife.
You'l ruine your self with Doctors Fees. O Sir John, Si [...] John!
Ay, ay, my Dear; I'le look all over the Town, but [...] find him out, and send him to you immediately; [...] have patience a little, and [...] send him to you.
What Grace, must I see this Devil of a Doctor agen, after all my [...]? I shall tear his Eyes out of his Head, if ever I light on him, and revenge the Wrong he has done to my Face on hi [...]
And so I would, Madam, and repay it with Usury.
And so I will, Grace; therefore I charge you get a [...] of my Foot-men ready with stout Oaken Plants: But he'l never be so bold to approach me, sure, not even to come near the House.
It may be he has forgot what he has done in his mad fit, and may come; [...] if he does, let me alone to prepare a substantial Bastinading for him.
O, I am so afraid of Visitants! Give Orders to all the House, that I'le see no body; I'le see no body this half Year: O this Face that has Captivated so many, is ruin'd it self.
So, Betty, now we have caus'd the great Ches [...] to be brought from the other Room into this, and got the [...] of Ropes ready, let Mr. Feewell come when he will, I am prepar'd to receive him without fear of being discover'd by my Husband: This Plot is so well laid, it cannot but take—When Husbands grow Jealous, they only put us to the trouble of being so much the more Ingenious, and working the Web of our Designs finer. How long is it, Betty, since my Husband has been gone to the Burial?
About half an Hour, Madam.
Is't possible, 'tis no more: O what a sweet half Hour of Love's lost by Feewell's not making more haste to take his share of it!
'Tis scarcely yet the Hour you appointed him.
When will that dear Hour come?
Immediately, Madam, have but patience.
O, 'twill never come 'till he comes!
Then 'tis already come, for here he is.
Am I not [...] daring Lover, in venturing to mount that breach a second time, where I lately 'scap'd a scowring so narrowly?
And to appear a Confess'd Man, whereas before you were glad to [...] off in the opprobrious Shape of a Woman.
Love, Child, can do all things; Almighty Love, that Trans [...] the Gods into Birds and Beasts, and all other sort of Living Creatures.
Transform'd your Worship into a Chambermaid.
If I [...] not, there is another God call'd Fear, altogether as Powerful, which work'd this last wonder, and diminish'd you from the stronger Sex, to the weaker.
Fear that thy Husband should have discover'd thee, no other: But whatsoever Fear diminish'd in me then, Love has restor'd me now, I can tell thee; and [...] thou hast any doubts left concerning my Sex, I am come on purpose to clear 'um.
You had as good let the Trial alone, I shall make a Woman of you the second time; for my Mind misgives me terribly, and I know not why, that my Husband will return upon us unexpectedly as he did before, and if he should, you'l be changing Sexes again: But for your Comfort, I have taken Compassion on you this time, and found out a securer Retreat than you made use of before; I have prepared a Ladder of Ropes, not a Rope and a Ladder for you; by which, if my Husband should surprize us, you may easily escape out of my BedChamber Window into the Garden, and then let your self out, thro' a back door, into the Street: As for that Chest you see there, 'tis a Trap for my Husband, if he should [...] untimely to disturb us.
Prithee tell me no more, I know too much already, and would not think my self secure in my Enjoyment; It's difficulty and danger, make an [...] pleasant.
Madam, some body knocks at the door.
Bless me! Who can it be? My Husband would have knock'd louder, and with more Authority; go to the door softly, and listen a little: How I tremble all over?
Will my Lady buy any Ribbands or Gloves to day?
Madam, we are undone; on my Life it is my Master, who feigns a Woman's Voice; it must be so, for I am sure I have turn'd away the Ribband Woman once to day already: I am certain 'tis a feign'd Voice.
Then I suppose, I must in good Manners betake my self to the Ladder of Ropes, and scamper.
You must so, and that without delay, there's no help for't; but if the Plot I have laid succeeds, I'le not be long from you.
That's all my Comfort; what Noses these Husbands have got! this is the second time this old Bowman has smelt me out.
[...].
What so coldly must we part! By Heavens, I must have the pleasure of ravishing a Kiss or two, now thy [...], to [...] veng'd on him!—O, I could dwell here for ever!
Go, get you gone, till you can Kiss [...]. Betty, [...] him quickly to escape, and leave me to manage this Ribband Woman.
Who's there?
'Tis your [...] Glove-woman▪ I have the finest scented Gloves, and new fashion'd Ribbands, no Man in Europe has finer.
So, [...] has discover'd himself, 'tis he, now I must play him [...] trick.
Betty, why don't you make more haste? the [...], [...], [...]; lock the Chest upon him quickly, quickly.
I have no need of [...] Gloves or Ribbands, at present, [...], I am [...], [...] here another day.
Madam, all's safe, you may open the door to your Husband [...] please; the Bird's flown.
That's well; but we must endeavour to [...]
Who's [...] knocks so loud and impertinently?
'Tis I my Dear; I want something in your Chamber, let me in quickly.
Betty, open the door to your Master.
What do's you Conscience misgive you [...] that you dare not look a Blunderbus in the Face?
John, [...], Thieves, Thieves.
Where, Sir, where?
Hid in the House; [...] every Corner, and under the Bed, carefully I charge you.
I heard her say, lock him in the Chest quickly; he must be in that Chest there.
The Chest shall be my Throne.
Where I sit and reign over this Slave and Cuckoldmaker; the King on Horseback in the Stocks-Market, that tramples on Hereticks and Pagans, is but a Type of me, that triumph over the living [...]—Now, Mistress, if you have not a mind to have some Pills discharg'd into your Stomach, to [...] Amorous [...], tell me immediately and directly, [...] you have hid that Robber of my Honour.
Whom d'ye [...]
You know, Minx, well enough [...] I mean; I mean Feewell, that Polluter of my [...] and [...] of my [...].
How should I know?
I believe [...], and [...] too; but what does this Chest do here? it uses to stand in another Room.
O my Dear, I have put some Table Linen in it, and other things, and had it brought into this Room, to be readier at hand.
Where is the [...] of it? give me the Key.
You have put [...] in [...] a [...], I know not where I laid it; 'tis well I am not with [...], [...] a fright would [...] have made me [...].
[...], what of a [...]? if [...] you [...] with Child, I'm resolv'd to plead [...] Guilty, in the face of the World, declare it a Bastard from, the beginning, and proceed to [...] it [...] 'tis Born. Come, come, without delay, deliver me the Key of [...].
Nay, prithee, my Dear, 'twill be so [...]; I have things there, I [...].
I [...] indeed, there [...] that you will want very often.
We have [...] every [...], and can [...] nothing like a Thief.
[...], be [...] keep the [...]; then he
must be here waiting [...] the resurrection of the Flesh; come, the Key I say, or do you see this?
Yes, [...], if you please; you have murder'd my Honour already, by your base Jealousie; all the World thinks [...] made you a Cuckold.
Then all the [...] in the [...].
'Tis [...] makes you one▪ you had best kill me, and be hang'd for it.
Good Sir, don't hold the Gun so against my Mistriss; Lord! if it should go off.
[...] her give me the Key then.
Why how now, Mr. Lurch, Arm'd, and in a furious Warlike posture?
Yes, Sir John, I am upon my guard, being near the Enemy.
What Enemy, Mr. Lurch, I see none but your Wife?
Why that's one, the other is enclos'd here in this Fortification; but I shall storm it.
Fie, Mr. Lurch, your [...] makes you fancy it.
Sir John, I never saw a Marriage in all my life, but a CuckoldMaker belong'd to it; every Husband is as sure of his evil Genius, as having a shadow when the Sun shines on him. A Cuckold-Maker is as [Page 48] inseparate from our Calling, as an Apothecary from a Doctor of Physick he Prescribes, but the Apothecary Administors.
Fie, Mr. Lurch, you grow Extravagant.
Let her give me the Key then.
There are Womens things in it, not fit to be sce [...].
I believe so, truly; now Sir John, do you perceive, Sir John▪ look you Mrs. no more delays, if you'll not open the door, I'll fire upon the Castle.
Hold, hold, Sir; here Betty, give him the Key.
There 'tis, Sir, now for your Discovery.
So, have you found this mighty Enemy▪
Nay, Mr. Lurch, this is so unreasonable, are you not asham'd?
I had ears sure—this is odd, very odd.
Fie, Mr. Lurch, come ask your Wife forgiveness, and use her more like a reasonable Man.
Why, I confess I did believe she had made me a Beast; come, Sweet heart, we'll forget, and forgive.
And how long will you continue reasonable?
As long as you please to let me; come, my Dear, no more skirmishing, Peace is concluded, and I'll present thee with a handsome New Gown, and the Appurtenances, as a Testimony of my Reconciliation.
Well said, Mr. Lurch, and now prepare for Mirth and Jollity; we shall be presently Invited to Mrs. L [...]oy's Wedding, and Mr. Lan [...] has prepar'd a mighty Feast.
Send him a happy Voyage through the u [...]certain ways of Matrimony.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Lady Crossit' s Anti-Chamber.
THere lies my Lady in the next Room, Railing at, and Cursing the Doctor, and Swearing she'll tear him to pieces if he durst come near her, and it cannot be long before he must come.
O Doctor! you are Born under a Lucky Planet, you are the happiest Man; [Page 49] my Lady thinks it an Age till she sees you! But we must speak so [...]ly, she's run half Mad for you; well, 'tis most certain, you are a most taking Man with the Ladies; and you know mine in particular, has alwaies had an Esteem for your Person, she does nothing but sigh all day for you, I believe poor Lady she'll run Mad; but you must be secret, o [...] you ruin all, you know there's a Husband in the case.
Poor Lady, she needs not fear, I took an Oath to be secret, when I was Sworn Doctor: Alas! she is not the first Lady who has fallen in love with my Person, one half of my Women Patients are in her Condition.
I must inform you, that my Lady has had the Misfortune to hurt her self a little with a fall, as you'll see by her Face, and has taken that occalion to [...]eign her self [...] [...]or your [...]ake, has sent her own Husband to fe [...]ch you, and lies on her Bed in the next Chamber, expecting your happy Arrival; I blush to say more, but you may guess the rest.
What her Ladyship has a violent sit of the Vapours, I warrant, is it not? Well, let me alone with her Ladyship.
But hold, do you Entertain your self in this Room; while I acquaint her that you are come, as I am order'd: If the violence of her Passion should cause her to be extravagant in her Actions, you are not to be surpris'd, now I have told you how excessively she loves you.
Never fear, I can be as Extravagant as she is; I like an open bare-fac'd Love that con [...]es it self; the more manifest the Disease is, the more easily the Remedy is applied.
Expect here a Moment then, and you shall be admitted immediately, I must use you now like a Lover, and not like a Doctor.
Doctor or Lover, Lover or Doctor, Student in Physick, or Student in Love, are Synonimous. We Doctors of Physick, have a [...]arge Cure of Bodies, an unlimited [...]rerogative over Flesh and Blood.
But here's my Patient! Hem! Hem! Now to show my skill in manageing an extravagant sit of Love: Now to show my self a Physician of Parts. Hem! Hem!
Where is this Devil? Where is this cruel, inhumane, barbarous Monster?
Here am I, no Devil, but a Man; a kind, yielding, melting Lover.
she's in a desperate taking: Hem! Hem! How she stares on me, and devours me with her Eyes.
What does the Villain jear and laugh at me a [...]ter all; O Devil! Devil! Let me come [...]ear to th [...]e, that I may revenge my self for all I have suffer'd.
Hold, hold, a Truce.
she's in a furious fit of Love I see; the Old [...]hilosopher was in the [...]ight— [Page 50] Prima Coitio est acerrima, The first Engagement is the sharpest. Truce, Truce, a little, and I'm for you again.
O Impudent Devil! Monstrous Hell-hound▪ a Rape! Help! Help!
Treason! Treason! Murder! Mercy! Murder! O my Crevat and Perriwig! What shall I do? My Profession's spoil'd for ever!
Monster! Devil! Pound him, break his Bones, beat him to a Jelly!
What all the House in an uproar! Hold there, and let me know what's the Matter amongst you; who's that Fellow undrest there?
O my Dear, a Monster, that would have offer'd Violence to my Virtue; would have ravish'd me, but for the Servants who came in to my assistance.
Speak, Monster of Monsters; what art thou?
O, Sir John, your most humble Servant,
I am a Doctor of Physick, my Name's Lorman,
Sir John, your most humble Servant.
Dr. Lorman, what, a Doctor of Physick Practising undrest; is it you, good Doctor, who would have thought it! I cou'd have sworn Butter wou'd not have melted in his Mouth, by his fine Talking!—Well, I shall alwaies suspect the worst of a fine Talking man, that can do nothing but Talk finely, for his sake.
Now I begin to see day a little, the Lady is Literally run Mad for Love, and in this mad fit, she thinks I am some Monster or other, and has treated me accordingly: But I must frame some plausible Excuse, to save my Credit and Doctoral Authority, if the aking of my Bones, will permit me to Harangue.
Honour'd, Sir, I imagine you are not a little surpris'd, as also, your much Honour'd and Virtuous good Lady; who by this time, I dare aver, is return'd to her good Senses again, to behold a Person of my Coat at this present in disorder: But when you shall have understood the Reasons I had to put in practice this Mysterious Operation; I promise my self, you will not only hold me guiltless of any ill designs, but also applaud my Conduct and Physical way of Proceeding in a Matter of so weighty Consequence.
What, is the Villain going to discover all? What can this mean?
Perceiving at my first Entrance. But first let me beg the favour of perusing my Habiliments again.
By all means, pray let the Dr. peruse his Habiliments.
Doctor
Perceiving at my first Entrance, as I was saying, that your very honour'd and vertuous good Lady's indisposition— Sir John, may I beg the favour you wou'd be pleas'd to order one of your Attendants to restore my Periwig to its former decorum.
By all means, Doctor; who's there? give the Doctor's Wig to my Valet to revive it a little.
Perceiving at my first entrance, as I was saying, that—
I pray dispatch, for my Wife's indispos'd, and wants repose.
Now I am a Doctor of Physick again, and can harangue.
How the Villain holds me in suspence.
O, Grace, I am ruin'd for ever, if he produces the Letter I sent him.
Never fear, Madam, let him go on, I warrant we have Cudgel'd him into discretion.
Hem, hem, perceiving at my first entrance—
He's perceiving at his sirst entrance again; what did you perceive at your first Entrance?
That your honour'd and good Lady's indisposition had troubl'd and diverted the right course of her senses, which I soon discover'd by a disorderly stare, or rowling of her eyes; it immediately came into [...]y head, to restore your Lady's health, by playing a piece of ingenious Extravagance; upon which, incontinently I fell to undressing and dismantling my self—
Yes, incontinently indeed, Doctor!
And threatned to assault your Virtuous Lady by way of a Rape; but as I hope to receive a Fee to day, without any sinister intention, Sir John, your good Lady's natural inclination to Vertue, restor'd her to her right senses again; caus'd chiefly by the fright with which I struck her good Ladyship, for I had put on a look as fierce as that of a Centaur.
That is to say, of a Horse Doctor, by way of Parenthesis only.
Sir John, I am your most humble Servant; but I am a Member of the Reverend Colledge.
There's a Footman without, who enquires for Dr. Lorma [...], say [...] he comes from my Lady Lackit, who lies dangerously ill, and desi [...]es the Doctor would come to her immediately.
She's a very impertinent Lady, I am not in a Condition of serving her at present, but I'll make use of this pretence to go home, and apply Sal [...]es and Ointments to my back and sides.
Sir John, I am heartily sorry I am interrupted by the Request of this Lady, for my Personal Appearance to relieve her, and that I have not leisure to dilate on this wonderful Cure I have wrought to day mo [...]ning on your very Virtuous, and much honour'd Lady.
I can a [...]ure you, Doctor, I won'd rather have chosen to have remain'd indispos'd, than to be Cur'd [...] such an undecent and [...] way, it has put me in such a fright.
Admirably well Counterfeited, Madam.
There is a virtuous Wife for you; Sir John, you are very happy in a virtuous Lady.
[...] seem to be sorry for his being beaten to satisfie my Husband ( to D. Lorman) I am in [...]initely concern'd, Doctor, that you have receiv'd so [...] a Recompence for the great service you have done me to day. My Servants beat you like a very Stock-Fish.
Dear Madam, never trouble your self for that, the Credit I shall gain in the World for this Operation, will make me sufficient amends. I aim at Fame—Madam, Hercules gain'd Heaven by his Club; and I mount up to the top of Fame and Heaven of Reputation, by means of the Cudgel, like a second Hercules—But I must take my leave of you now, Sir John, to wait on this Patient, who expects me; she is a Lady of Quality, and must be serv'd punctually.
You have more need to look after your self, Doctor; you must of necessity have receiv'd some damage in your outward Man.
Nothing at all, Sir John, a trifle, a Rib or two of lesser note broken, or so, nothing else, on my word, a mee [...] Trifle, Sir John, and Madam, your most humble Servant.
Sir John, I wonder you'l put your self to this trouble, suspend your Favours 'till I have done your Lady some further service.
But for the beating, Doctor, you must accept it indeed.
You are so obliging, Sir John! well, I'le protest I'le have nothing from you, for my next Visit. Sir John, and sweet Madam, your most humble Servant.
So he said the very last time he was here; so far by the help of my own Wit, and Grace's assistance, I have carried it victoriously, not only satisfied my self on the Body of him that might have made me a Cuckold, but also reveng'd my self bodily on my Wife, that would have made me a Cuckold.
Come Sweet heart, how does your Face?
O Sir John, so torn and scratcht.
Scratching is an Appendix to Caterwauling.
How, Sir?
Your Doctor, Madam, was justly beaten for his wonderful Cure, but he was to have cur'd you another way.
I know not what you mean.
You may understand without my telling you.
What should I understand?
Your own Folly.
Ah me.—
No more, you must understand me now. The Leter and Shirts [Page 53] [...]: I have [...], your [...] would [...] you than Excuses, or seeming [...].
Oh Sir John, Can you forgive me?
I'le try.
By all my hopes of good, I'le never more injure you in a Thought.
'Tis well, rise and compose your self, for we are invited by Landy, to his Daughter's Wedding, they are ready to [...] from Church.
I hope, Sir, you will not carry me in this Condition.
Yes, but I will, or else worse Interpretation may be made of it; no more words, I must be obey'd in this; I have hid your shame and mine: Henceforth, be your own Doctor, and prescribe your self a Constant use of Virtue.
By this time Lucy has her Wishes, and I have mine; if the Plot should be discover'd, I hope Bellville has too much mettle to lose his Mistress; the Knight will look as blank as a Cut-Purse, that finds no Money in the place he searcht for—No matter, 'tis not the first Game he has lost, and Phill will stand him another very good Chace.
Lurch, you are welcome, heartily welcome, and your fair Partner too; they are coming, Mr. Lurch, with your [...]etters about 'em.
I wish they may prove Easie to all, especially to fair Mrs. Lucy.
She deserves all Happiness.
I thank you both.
Welcome good Sir John, and your good Lady too, what is not your Lady well?
She has got an unhappy fall, Mr. Landy, and very much hurt her Face, but her respect to you and Mrs. Lucy, forc'd her to come, notwithstanding her unfit Condition.
In Troth, Madam, I am very much oblig'd to you, the new Married People, I believe, are near upon returning.
Mr. Bellville will be a happy man.
None, Sir, my Daughter is to be a Lady.
How, a Lady?
This is very strange.
'Tis very true, Sir, a Northern Knight, one Sir Timothy Shallow, has out-bid Mr. Bellville by a Thousand a Year.
I wish Mr. Landy that you are not brib'd to make your Daughter unhappy.
I have known many, Sir John, very unhappy by being too Poor, but never any by being too Rich.
Ha [...]ke—
I hear 'em coming.
What's here, a Mask?
Your Blessing.
What, Madam, not down upon your Maribones; come, off with your trumpery—how—what have we here?
What's the meaning of this? woe's me, what have I got?
An Obedient Wife, Sir.
Nay, in geud faith, hold a blow, Ise not be chous'd so.
Where's my Daughter, I am abus'd, where's my Daughter?
Here, Sir, with her Husband, and beg your Blessing.
Hey day, what means all this?
Nay, by the Mass, Mrs. Lucy is my Wife, and no other, and Ise seize my own Chattel where I find her.
You must seize this first.
What a God's name, must one sight for his Wife? Father Landy, I pray let us send for Mr. Scrible, and clap Actions on 'em for Cheats and Robbers.
'Troth, Sir Timothy, Law-Suits are dangerous Boggs to get into, we may sink faster than we can get out; besides, I fear Matters are gone too far.
Be appeas'd, Sir Timothy, what's done, can't be undone; be contented, many have done worse, you have Marry'd a handsom Woman, vertuous and good.
Believe me, Sir, none exceeds her in goodness, and good humour; I have esteem'd and lov'd her, as I would a Sister.
Why, in troth, Sir Timothy, since we are both deceiv'd, the best way is to bear it patiently; and, in troth, she has always behav'd her self so well, she shall not come a Beggar to you.
I hope, Mr. Bellville, for my sake, will add to my Father's [...].
That I will, most willingly, and as largely as my dearest Lucy pleases.
Look you there, Sir Knight, come, give her your hand; nay, never hang back, there is no other Remedy; come, come, she'll bring you a brave young Shallow.
If it must be so, y faith Ise gang into the North as fast as four Legs will carry me.
This minute, if you please; Sir, you shall ever find me an Obedient Wife, and with true Love and Care will ever strive to please you.
Since I am Pounded, and no [...] out, Ise e'en make the best of a bad Market.
I dare swear you will be pleas'd with her, when you know her better. Come, no more words, nothing now but Musick, and every Man take his Lady.
I having none of my own, must presume to borrow another Man's.
Like enough, in troth.
Sir, here are Gipsies, that desire admittance.
Let 'em come in, all's free this day.
Bless you Masters, we'll tell your Fortunes.
Master, Master.
You have a great Cross thro' the Line of Life, Perhaps y'are Jealous, y'had as good trust your Wife.
You shall enjoy good health, and good cheer, And have a young Huntsman within the year.
O brave Palms, you have Mistresses plenty, And you can be Constant at once to twenty.
Come, Mr. Lurch, you cou'd Sing well in your young days, if Marriage has not crackt your Voice, let's hear the Dialogue between [Page 56] you, and your Wife; it may be a means to make a thorough Reconciliation.
DIALOGUE.
Now prithec let's leave this impertinent str [...]ggle,
For Men will be false,
And Women will juggle.
What's past, we'll forget,
What's to come, ne'er enquire,
But take surest Advice of present Desire.
Now to such poor Cheer as I have provided for you;
Joys Crown you all, every one here's my Guest, [...] all are welcome to a Mis [...]'s Feast.