University of Virginia Library

SCENE Continues.
Enter Sir John Shittlecock and a Servant.
Ser.
Who wou'd you speak with, Sir?

Sir Joh.
I don't know—

I have a Devilish mind to Court Madam Lovely, and dare not—
Pox on me for a Half-hearted Fop—What shou'd I fear? I
will venture— (Aside.)
Sir, I wou'd speak with your Lady,
Madam Lovely—Hold, hold, Sir—

I dare not venture— Aside
—Call Madam Sistly—
'Egad Ill venture— Aside.

Hold, call Madam Lovely—'Egad I dare— (Aside.
Hold,
call Madam Sistly.

Ser.

The Man is mad; let him call 'em himself—

(Ex.
Sir Joh.

Oh! Here comes Madam Sistly—

Enter Cecilia.

Pretty Rogue: Gad, I think she's handsomer than Sister—
No—Pox—Yes, Pox—No, Pox—Yes, Gad she is— (Aside.

My Dear!

Ce.

Stand off, you base, unworthy, false, deboist Man—you—
you have been making Love to my Sister Lovely—a married
Woman.

Sir John.

Oh Pox! Has she heard o' that?

(Aside.
C.

I'm serv'd right, for Entertaining and Loving a Man, before
I knew him! I hate my self for it.

(She Weeps.
Sir Joh.

I swear she cries: I'd give a hundred Pound some body
saw it, for the Honour of it

(Aside.
Ce.

Wou'd I had never seen your Face, you scurvy Man.

Sir Joh.

She takes on more and more. If she shou'd hang her
self for me; there wou'd be an Honour to me! Gad, wou'd she

wou'd. Oh, no, Pox! that wou'd be pity—Pox— (Aside.)

Come, don't spoil thy pretty Eyes, my Dear.

Ce.

Get you gone, and don't tro—o—ouble me.

(Sobs.
Sir Joh.

She Sobs, I Swear, that she can hardly speak—.
Pretty Heart! Now cannot I forbear Weeping with her. (Aside.)

My Dear.

Ce.

Stand off.

Sir Joh.

Pray hear me.

Ce.

I won't.

Sir Joh.

Pray do: You must know, I am one, the World is
pleas'd to call a Beau; and you know a little Courtship is expected
by every Lady from a Beau. So I bestowed a little, to shew my
good Breeding, that was all. But if you will forgive, I'll never
shew any good Breeding again, as long as I live.

Ce.

What care I what you do.

Sir Joh.

Nay, if I can't be forgiven, I had as good make Love
in earnest.

Ce.

Well, I will forgive you for once; but if ever you do so
again—

Sir Joh.

I Swear I won't—and so let me kiss your pretty
Hand, to shew we are reconciled.

Ce.

I won't.

Sir Joh.

But once.

Ce.

I won't.

Sir Joh.

Pray do.

Ce.

I won't.

Sir Joh.

Nay, if you will be so Cruel, Fare you well.

Ce.

Well, I will—but 'tis more than you deserve.

Sir Joh.

Then we are Reconcil'd?

Ce.

May be we are, may be we are not—I won't tell you—
So Fare you well—

(Ex.
Sir Joh.

Yes, yes, we are pretty, Rogue. 'Tis a fine thing to
have a pretty Lady cry for one. Gad, I'd be contented to be
Dead, upon condition all the pretty Ladies in the Town cry'd for
me. Ah! What a Pleasure that wou'd be?

Oh Dear! Here comes the fine Waiting-woman.
Enter Lionell.
Now for my Heart cannot I be true to Mrs. Sistly.
Oh, No! Here I shall be in my Element, I'm a Pe-goose with a
Lady; but I'm the Devil with a Chamber-Maid. Here I can kiss
without a Master of the Spiritual Ceremonies. Pretty Mrs. Jenny!
How does your under Petticoat?

Lio.

Oh! Pray forbear, Sir: You and I are not so intimate:
You know neither my Name, nor my Nature. My Name is not
Jenny, nor is my Nature wanton.

Sir Joh.

Heigh, heigh! my Name nor my Nature!—thou art a
very pretty Scholar. Can'st thou speak any Latin?

Lio.

No, Sir, What shou'd I do with Latin? I have English
enough to give a Gentleman an Answer.

Sir Joh.

Very witty, and very pretty, faith. I know thy Name,
not that which thy Godmothers gave thee, when thou wer't
sprinkled at the Font. No, thy Father and Mother sprinkled thy
Face and Beauty; Thy Christen Name is Prettiness, and thy Sir-name,
Come kiss me.

Lio.

No—good Sir—I'm none o' the Family o' the Kiss me's.
Pray, Sir, keep off.

Sir Joh.

No, no, I will have a Kiss, i' faith; I will i' faith, I
will i'faith.

Lio.

No, no i' faith, i' faith, you shall not Sir.

Sir Joh.

Heigh! heigh! she's as stiff as her own Broom; stiffer
for that has a stake i' the Back, but a Flag i' the Tail. What ailst
you? Dost not like me?

Lio.

Like you, Sir! Who does not like the fine Sir John Shittle-cocke?

Sir Joh.

Oh! you little Rogue! do ye jeer?

Lio.

Jeer, Sir; no, Sir, you know I don't.

Sir Joh.

Why, wou'dst thou have me, if I I'de have thee?

Lio.

Have you, Sir? ah! wou'd I were a Queen for your sake.

Sir Joh.

'Gad, she'l make me stark mad in love with her. I'le
Marry thee, faith I will—i' faith I will.

Lio.

Well Sir, don't mock; I have seen as wise Men as you
snap'd—

(Aside.
Sir Joh.

But prethee, dear Rogue; let me have a touch of thy
fine Lips.

Lio.
I'le give him one for a bait—
(Aside.
Oh! Sir! would I were worthy of the Honour.

Sir Joh.
Oh! the honour will be mine.

Lio.
Well, Sir, in a civil way

(He salutes her.
Sir Joh.
I swear sh'as all Arabia in her Mouth.

Lio.
And you have all the East-Indies, Sir, in yours.

Enter Thornebacke.
Th.
So, Shittlecocke! undermine me every where,
Both with the Lady, and the Servant too?
I think the Women are all in a plot,
To put me totally out o' conceit
With my own person—'Gad, I hate my self.
I've had a good opinion o' my self
These 30 years, and lost it in a minute.

Sir Joh.
Oh Sir, the Ladies are all dying for you.
I only take possession, Sir, for you.
Well pretty Rogue! I'le see you another time—

(Ex.
Th.
So, so! what? you and he are very great?
Much good may do you; I'le not trouble you.

Lio.
Nay Squire! pray Squire!

Th.
What wou'd you have with me?
A Horse don't love to grase after a Goose,
And will I touch you after such a Fellow?
Do'e think I have more Stomach than a Horse?

Lio.
What wou'd you have me do, Squire? he's a Gentleman,
And he did humbly beg a Kiss o' me—

Th.
Then it seems, Madam, If I Married you,
And a Spark humbly beg'd me for a Cuckold,
You'd very humbly grant the favour to him.
Madam, I am not for such humble Women.

Lio.
A Cuckold? Squire! do'e think I am so base?

Th.
I cannot think worse of Women than I find 'em.

Lio.
Ay, this it is to be a handsom Man:
Too many Women grant you any thing,
And then you think all Women are as bad.
I love you as my life; but if I lov'd you
More than I do (but that's impossible)
Though 'twere to save my life, I'de grant you nothing,
But what you might have in a civil way.

Th.
A handsom Man? prethee don't flatter me;
I have just got some wisdom from your Lady,
Sh'as clear'd my Head of all fantastique thoughts,
I thank her for't; she call'd me to my Face,
A sawcy disagreeable old Coxcomb;
Now she has made me wise, you wou'd spoil all,
And coakes me into a Coxcomb once again.
I'le see you whip'd first; I will be an Ass
No longer to your Sex.

Lio.
And did she give you
Such odious Names? come, she is a proud Woman,
And does not speak her mind; she'd give the World
She were but half so handsom for a Woman,
As you are for a Man.

Th.
Prethee away.

Lio.
I speak my thoughts, and that you know too well.
Well, my dear, Squire I cannot stay with you now,
Come to me when my Lady's gone to Bed,
About Eleven o'Clock, and then we'l junket.

Th.
'Gad, I shall be a Woman's Fool again.
Well, if you have a mind I should come to you,
Go to a Bagnio, and sweat out the Kiss
This Fool has given you.

Lio.
I will, I will.
Away, away, I see Squire Polidor,
Creeping in yonder Room, and I'de feign watch him.

(Aside.
Th.
Well, then farewell—my Girl—

(Ex.
Lio.
Farewell sweet Squire—
Well this Squire Polidor's an errant Thief,
And comes to rob my Master of his Honour.
That was his business lately with my Lady.
'Twas so! 'twas so! he was endeavouring
To commit Burglary upon her Body
Ay, ay, 'twas so, that made my Lady call.
Now is he stealing to her the back way.
(She looks within the Scenes.
And now I swear he's got into her Chamber.
What will become o' this? I'le peep and listen.

(Ex.