The City-Ramble : or, A Play-house Wedding :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nay hold, Gentlemen—Not too much of your Sharps.
My wife Lady Mother bid me never bear my self too much upon my
Wit. I am a Lord, and am worth Five hundred thousand Crowns,
And had no occasion for Wit. Let your poor Rogues boast of their
Wits, who have nothing else to live by.

Rinald.

Ay, marry! now you speak like an Oracle. What's flashy
Wit to massy Gold, dear Boy?

Anton.

But still this senseless foolish Girl not love thee!

Count.

Love me! Why she can't endure the sight of me; but roars,
And bauls, and spits, and squauls. But that a Man may see she's a
woman by her Petticoats, udzooks she talks to me more like a Cat
than a Christian.

Anton.

Oh abominable!

Rinald.

A Mistress! A Monster! Talk no more of her, she is not
worth thy Thought.

Count.

Ay, but I must think of her whether I will or no. Here's
My Lady Mother has sent me a purpose to think of her and no body
else. And here's an old doating Father of hers so woundily in Love
with me, and so stark staring mad for me for a Son-in-law, that he's
for putting us together to bed nouluns voluns, as they call it: And if I
shan't Grace enough to behave my self like a sober good Christian,
udz daggers, I believe he'll force me to ravish his Daughter.

Rinald.

And must the coy Puss be ravish'd! A Rape! A Halter!

Anton.

Ay hang her, Brute, hang her! And e'en too good for her!

Silv.

No, drown her, Boy, drown her in a hearty full Bowl of
thy happy Deliverance from her.

Count.

My happy Deliverance from her! Udzooks, I'll drink a
double Bumper to that Health.

Rinald.
Ay, that's a Health worth drinking.

Anton.
Ay, fill round, Rascals.

A SONG by Antonio and Silvio.
Ant.

Bumpers lull our Cares to Rest,
Calm Palpitations in the Breast:
Render our Lives Misfortunes sweet,
And Venus buxom in the Sheet.

Silv.

Let's think of all the Friends we know,
And drink to all worth drinking to.
Men who remote in Sorrows live,
Shall by our lusty Brimmers thrive.

Ant.

We'll drink the Wanting into Wealth;
And they who Languish into Health;
Th'Afflicted into Joy, th'Opprest
Into Security and Rest.

Silv.

The Brave shall triumph in Success;
True Lovers have kind Mistresses:
Poor unregarded Vertue Praise,
And the neglected Poet Bays.

Chor.

Thus shall our Healths do others good,
Whilst we our selves do all we wou'd:
For free from Envy and from Care,
What wou'd we be but what we are.

And so to the Noble Don's Deliverance.

[They all drink.
Count.

I don't know, Gentlemen, methinks the Candles all of a
sudden fall a twinkling so strangely: And the Room begins to dance
round me.

Anton.

Ay, Don, get but loose from this young Barbarian, and
every thing will dance round thee for the Joy of that blest Deliverance.

Enter a Drawer.
Draw.

Here's a young Lady desires to speak with her Father
Don Silvio.

Silv.

My Daughter, Gentlenen, Bring her up, Sirrah.

Enter Boy in Girls Cloaths.
Boy.

I hope, worthy Gentlemen, you'll excuse my Blushes for this
Boldness. But a Father's Commands are absolute.

[They all rise and salute the Boy.
Rinald.

Oh, sweet Lady! never blush at this high Favour done to
our most humble Servant.

Anton.

Oh, fie, Noble Don! Where's your Civility to the young
Lady.

Count.

And may I be so bold, forsooth?

Silv.

Bold? She's my Daughter, Noble Don, and my humble
veins will be proud of that high Honour.

[The Count salutes her.
Count.

A rare Girl!

Rinald.

Well, sweet Lady, since smiling Fortune throws so fair a
blessing amongst us, with your kind Father's Leave we must beg the
honour of you to take a Seat with us.

Silv.
Ay, Girl, sit down.

Boy.
Where will you please to place me!

Silv.
Next this young Noble Lord.

Count.
Ay, Madam, I am a Count.

Boy.
Yes, my dear Father, here's Modesty and Honour in this Face,
And here I best dare trust my self.

Count.
Sweet Creature!

[They all sit.
Anton.
Nay, Madam, you could never honour us
With your sweet Company in a kinder Minute,
So but to join us with your tender Pity
Of this young Don's Misfortunes.

Boy.
How! Misfortunes!
Is there one angry Star can cast a Frown
upon this Darling!

Rinald.
Alas, he's forc'd by a harsh Mother's Commands
To offer up his Heart to that most barbarous Woman!—

Boy.
Barbarous to whom? To this young fine sweet Gentleman!

Count.

Young, fine, sweet Gentleman! How long would it be before
my Puss of a Miss wou'd say such fine Things to one!

Boy.
I hope, dear Don, these Gentlemen do but jest,
as there that cruel Creature in the World, can be unkind to Thee!

Count.

Unkind! Why she's a mere Tyger to me, calls me as many
hard Names as there are Stars in the Sea: Flies open-mouth'd upon
me as furious as a Lamb upon a Lion.

Boy.
Oh horrid, horrid! Has she a Heart of Flesh!
Is she a Woman! Has she Eyes, and can she
Look on such Youth, such Honour and such Sweetness,
And feel not one soft Touch! I am sure my Heart,
My gentle Heart cou'd never stand the Pow'r
Of all thy conqu'ring Charms.

Count.

Oh, dear sweet Rogue! I protest I can't forbear—These
Honey-words do so melt in my Mouth, that I vow I must buss thee
once more. [Kisses her.]
Udzooks, she kisses like a little Cherubim.

Rinald.

Ay, Noble Don, this civil dear Creature can use a Gentleman
a little like a Christian, and so kiss her again.

Count.

Zooks, and so I will.

[Ruffles her.
Silv.

Ay, Noble Sir, kiss my Daughter and welcome.

Count.
[Kissing again.]

Udzooks, she ravishes me!

Anton.

Well, Don, what if we drink the Lady's Health?

Count.

This sweet Puggy's Health! Udzoons, it shall go round
three Bumpers in a Hand, and no body shall drink it but my self.
And so some Wine, Sirrah, some Wine.

Rinald.

Ay, here's some Musick in this.

Count.

Here, Noble Lass, here's a Health to thee from the very
Top to the Bottom of thee; from the Pinacle of thy Quoif to the Tip
of thy Smicket. Udzooks, thy Busses do so inspire me that I begin
to grow witty.

[Drinks off a Bumper, and staggers.

How my Head swims! I am half Seas over, and I'll sail upon a Bottle
to Shore.

Boy.

Oh, fie, Gentlemen, what have you done; made the dear
Man drink too much.

Count.

Drink! who cares for Drink! One Buss is worth forty Bumpers!

Boy.

You don't know what harm you have done the poor Creature;
I protest, Gentlemen, he shall stay no longer in your Company!
Come, dear Don, thou shalt leave these naughty Men. I have a Servant
with a Candle at the Door, and I'll lend thee my Hand to lead
thee home to Bed.

Count.

And wilt thou lead me home, and see me Pig in my Straw,
sweet Fubs?

Boy.

Lead thee! Ay, were it forty Miles. With a Friend to the
World's End.

Count.

Say'st thou so! Come along, Girl, and, let my old Miss
Monster hang her self.

Puss, Puss, scratching Cat-Puss,
Take your own Garters, and fairly go truss.

[Exeunt.
Anton.

So; Business go's on rarely. Let the young Rogue alone
to manage the rest of the Plot—But, Sirrah, what's a Clock?

Draw.

By our House-Tattler exactly Three quarters past Ten.

Rinald.

Right, to a Second.

[Looking on his Watch.
Anton.

So, we have one full Hour and better for managing thy
Matters. What if we adjourn to the next Room? Now I remember
me, that fronts the Corner-house, where thy Mistress must come.
We'll just take one sober Glass to the Consummation of thy Felicity,
and then start fair, Boy.

Gay Friends may laugh, and the brisk Bottle move:
But all the mighty Work of Life is Love.

[Exeunt.