 | The Mulberry-Garden |  |
17
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter Sir Samuel Forecast, Althea, Jack Wildish, and Olivia.Fore.
Daughter, we are much beholding to Horatio,
The Portion I can give with you does not
Deserve a man of past half his Fortune;
Six thousand pounds a year, an Estate well
Wooded, and I am told very improveable,
It makes me young again to think on't:
Eugenio I never lik't, and as things stand
Now, am right glad we had no more to do
With him; But that I am one whose
Affection and good will to the State has sufficiently
Manifested it self, I might be thought
To have a hand in their Design, and so have
Been put in the Tower, and had my Fortune
Seiz'd on: Eugenio shall never call a
Child of mine, Wife, as long as
I live.
Wild.
But, Sir, your zeal to the Cause has put
You above those apprehensions.
Fore.
You say right, Mr. Wildish, but we cannot
Be in this case too secure; and I am resolv'd
Althea, to take off all suspition, shall out
Of hand marry with Horatio.
Alth.
Sir, I hope you will allow me some
Time to dismiss Eugenio from my thoughts.
Wild.
And, pray Sir, what prejudice, what
Exception have you to Eugenio?
Fore.
Originally this only, his Father made a
Purchase of some Land, that lay next hedge
To mine, and gave a thousand pounds more
Than it was worth, only to buy it over my head:
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He is not the man he was; he had an Estate,
'Tis now sequester'd, he dare not show his
Head; and besides, I would not have a Son-in-
Law of his principles, for six times his fortune;
I shou'd be sorry to see any Child of mine
Solliciting her Husbands Composition at
A Committee.
Alth.
Had I once had the relation of a Wife
To Eugenio, I should have thought nothing
A trouble that had become my Duty, and
Cou'd as chearfully have shar'd an honourable
Suffering, as the most flourishing condition.
Fore.
I charge you never receive visit, or
Message from him more, and tell your Sister
Diana, 'tis my pleasure she quit all
Correspondence with Philander.
They are both dangerous persons.
[Turns to Wildish.
These young Wenches, Mr. Wildish, have less
Forecast than Pigeons, so they be billing, they
Look no farther; n'ere think of building their
Nests, nor what shall become of their little ones.
Wild.
Sir, I think they're i'th'right, let 'um encrease
And multiply, and for the rest, trust him that set
'Um a work.
Fore.
Mr. Wildish you are a merry Gentleman; but
I'le tell you, Mrs. Althea, as I have given you
Life, I'le take care you shan't make it miserable.
Alth.
Sir, the happiness of life lies not in wealth, in
Title, or in shew, but in the mind, which is not to
Be forc'd; and we are not the less Slaves for being
Bound in Chains of Gold: A marriage with
Horatio may make me appear happy to the
Envious world, but like those destructive
Arts, which, while they seem to aid, consume
Our native Beauties, indeed must prey upon
My inward peace.
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I'le warrant you peace within, and without too;
Horatio is a well natur'd proper Gentleman,
And one that loves you.
Wild.
Now there Sir Samuel I'm on your side,
For so the Fan be play'd with, the hand kist;
In fine, the passion handsomly discharg'd, 'tis
No great matter who does it. As Children
Cry after their old Nurses, but 'till they
Are acquainted with their new: so young
Ladies regret the loss of one Servant, but
Till they have got the same familiarity
With another; which, by the way, is seldom
Long first.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Sir, there's a man out of Pater-Noster
Row with Stuffs.
Fore.
Bid him carry 'um into the next Room.
Come Althea, let's in and look upon 'um.
[Ex. Althea, and Sir Samuel.
Manent Wildish and Olivia.
Oliv.
We Women are ever sure of your good
Word, Mr. VVildish; when you have a Mistress,
I hope she'le deserve it from you in particular,
And have in perfection all those good qualities
You so liberally bestow upon the whole Sex, in
Your Discourse.
VVild.
Why, Madam, I thought you had understood
Raillery; faith I have so good an opinion of the Sex
I am asham'd to own it but to one of them in
Private; this is only the way of talking I have
Got among my Companions, where when we
Meet over a Bottle of Wine, 'tis held as great
A part of wit to rallee women handsomly behind
Their back, as to flatter 'um to their Faces.
Oliv.
But why do you make us poor women the
Subject of your mirth?
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You are grown of late so uncharitable, and
Villainous hard-hearted, are incompass'd with so
Many difficulties, as decency, honour, and reputation,
That we men that love our pleasure, begin to
Hate you worse than Beggars do a Coach with
The Glasses drawn up, despair of Relief, and fall
A Railing.
Oliv.
And if some kind-hearted wretch do chance
To relieve one of you, like Beggars you tell it
Presently, and send more; I warrant y'are fine
Fellows, a woman is well helpt up,
That has one of you to her Servant.
Wild.
Nay don't put me in among 'um, I am a
Meer Apostate, though not resolute enough
To endure the Martyrdoms of being continually
Laught at by half a score of 'um: all that I
Have done of late, has been meer compliance,
As Papists go to Church for fear of the penalty.
Oliv.
Pray, Sir, to what fair Saint do we owe your
Conversion?
Wild.
Faith there are many in the World now wou'd
Make you guess this half hour, telling you
First the colour of her hair, her age, her
Country, and perhaps the first Letter of her name;
But I hate that way of fooling—'tis your
Self—whom I love.
Oliv.
Impudent fellow! don't you expect I shou'd
Forbid you the house, or at least, for punishment
Of such rudeness, condemn your guilty passion
To eternal silence and despair? what! men
Have liv'd years in Desarts for their Mistresses
Sake, and yet have trembled when they spoke
Of love; which you venture at with as
Little Ceremony, as you'd ask me how I
Slept last night.
Wild.
I know not what Romances order in
This case, I n'ere thought it would be mine,
And so ha'n't much study'd it: but prithee don't
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So been't too severe, I shall relapse else
Beyond Redemption.
Oliv.
Well, I'm content for once your ignorance
Shou'd plead your pardon.
Wild.
Nay Mrs. Olivia consider me a little further;
I have lost the pleasures of mirth, of Wine,
And Company; all things that were before
Delightful to me, are no longer so; my
Life is grown but one continu'd Thought of
Your fair self: and is a pardon all that I
Must hope for?
Oliv.
Come, leave your fooling, your old humour does
Better with you, a thousand times, then this
Whining Love. As there are some Perfumes
So strong, that they lose that name with
Most: So Complements may be so gross, that
They become injurious.
Wild.
Why here's it now; there are so many cheats
In this Trade of Love too, that like Beggars, the
The true go unreliev'd, because we meet with now
And then a counterfeit: on my life Mrs. Olivia
The plenty I have ever liv'd in, puts me
As much out of countenance to ask a Charity
Of this kind, as I cou'd be, should Fortune constrain
Me, to intreat one of the other; and wou'd not
Trouble you, cou'd my pain admit redress
From any but your self.
Oliv.
Sure, Mr. Wildish, you wou'd think I had
An excellent opinion of my self, or an implicite
Faith in whatever you say, shou'd I believe
All this now.
Wild.
If I told a Chirurgion, I had broke my leg,
Do you think he wou'd not take my word?
Oliv.
Yes sure.
Rild.
Why shou'd not you take it then for a wounded
Heart? they are neither of 'um matters to
Brag on; and I wou'd no more lead the life
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That of a sick man if I were well.
Oliv.
Methinks the sick men, as you call 'um,
Live so like the well, as one can scarce know
One from th'other.
Wild.
In your Chamber, perhaps; but abroad we
Find a thousand differences.
Oliv.
As how, I pray?
Wild.
Why, your true Lover leaves all Company
When the Sport begins, the Table when the Bottles
Are call'd for, the Gaming-house when the
Cards come up; is more afraid of an Engagement,
Than a Lawyer in Term-time;
Wou'd less miss the last Act of a Play, the Park,
Or indeed any abominable old Ladies,
Where he may hope to see the party, then
A young Wench can Grayes-Inn-walks, the
First Sunday of her new Gown.
Oliv.
What, is this all?
Wild.
Not half: ask him to sup, he has business;
Or if he promise, 'tis ten to one he fails, and
If he sees his Mistress, is so transported, that
He forgets to send his Excuse; if he cannot
Find her, and so chance to keep his word,
Sits in such dismal Dumps, that he spoils
The whole Company.
Oliv.
And will you be such an Animal for my sake?
Wild.
Faith I'm afraid so, but if not well us'd,
I shall find the way home again.
Oliv.
Whatever you think, Sir, I shall contribute
No more to the keeping you my Servant,
Then I did to the making you so.
Wild.
Well, do but use as proper means to keep
Me your Servant, as you have done to make
Me so, and I am satisfied.
Oliv.
Why, what means?
Wild.
As your Beauty bred my Affection,
So let your kindness nourish it.
23
Mr. Wildish, you have been so pleasant
Upon this new Argument, that I had
Almost forgot my Visit to Diana.
Wild.
I'm upon equal terms with you there;
For I have made Ned Estridge and Harry
Modish stay this half hour for me
At the French House: and so your Servant.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Althea.Alth.
Under what Tyranny are Women born!
Here we are bid to love, and there to scorn;
As if unfit to be allow'd a part
In choosing him, that must have all our heart;
Or that our liking, like a head-strong beast,
Were made for nothing, but to be opprest;
And below them, in this regard we are,
We may not flye the cruelty we fear.
The Horse may shake the Rider from his back,
The Dog his hated Master may forsake;
Yet nothing of their native worth impair,
Nor any conscious sting about them bear.
But if a Virgin an Escape contrive,
She must for ever in dishonour live,
Condemn'd within her self, despis'd of all,
Into worse mischiefs then she fled from, fall.
Duty commands I shou'd Horatio wed,
Love does as strongly for Eugenio plead;
My mind, distracted thus, a storm abides
Like Seas, when winds blow full against their Tides.
Enter Horatio.
Hora.
Madam, methinks you look not pleas'd; I fear
My hapless passion did too late appear
For my content; and only now can prove
The wretched Triumph of some elder Love.
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With your own breath to blow a hopeless flame.
Ah! had you to its Childhood been severe,
As now to its full growth you cruel are,
'Thad dy'd with half that pain it now must bear:
Young Plants with ease up by the Roots we tear;
But when well grown, the Ax must be imploy'd,
And they with force and labour are destroy'd.
Alth.
Generous Horatio, forbear to blame
Me, as the cruel Author of your pain.
How cou'd I know that you my Lover were,
Until your self your passion did declare?
How had it look'd in me to have complain'd
Of thoughts, perhaps, you never entertain'd?
How could I check, alas, those hopes in you,
Your Heart did never harbour, that I knew?
Hora.
Not know, Althea! why shou'd the same eyes
So slowly see, so suddenly surprize?
The very minute I beheld your face,
You might in mine my growing passion trace.
Now trembling fear did her pale colour spred,
Then springing hope brought back the native red:
Joy may be seen, and grief it self unfold,
And so may love, though it be never told.
In every look my passion was confest,
And every action my high flame exprest.
As foolish Witnesses their Cause o'rethrow,
My Arts to hide it, did it clearer show.
Alth.
But as fond Parents will not seem to know
A fault they needs must punish when they do;
So I at first was loth to see a crime
In one, I otherwise did so esteem:
For know, Horatio, setting Love apart,
None then your self is deeper in my Heart;
Your worth and honour I can value, though
I no requital to your flame allow.
Hora.
You can give all things else above their due,
And yet wrong that which most belongs to you:
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Where I less feel, and wound a mortal part;
With friendship and esteem you strive in vain,
Kind Maid, to ease a Lover of his pain:
For where your Beauty once has rais'd a flame,
To offer less, and nothing, are the same.
Love and Ambition of their aim deny'd,
No other way can e're be satisfi'd.
Alth.
You that cou'd faithless to Victoria prove,
Methinks shou'd blush even at the name of Love.
Her numerous Charms your loud accusers are,
And call Horatio false, as she is fair.
Hora.
You shou'd with pity, not displeasure see
The change that your own self creates in me.
The Roman Senate had their greatness worn
Perhaps till now, had Cæsar n'er been born.
Darius self cou'd not his Persians blame,
Because that Alexander overcame.
In Love like War, some Victor still there grows,
Whose spreading Empire nothing can oppose.
Alth.
Countries are fix'd, and cannot flye, although
They apprehend a certain overthrow.
Lovers, the force they can't oppose, might shun,
And may with safety and with honour run.
Who then would pity him that stays to dye,
When Vertue and his Duty bid him flye?
Hora.
Althea, in Loves wars all Heroes are,
Death does less terrible than flight appear;
As Gamesters, when they lose, still deeper set,
Helping ill Fortune to encrease their debt:
So Lovers, when a Nymph gets half their heart,
Themselves, alas, betray the other part.
Alth.
Victoria's wrongs my gratitude deter;
Your gifts to me are robberies from her.
Hora.
I came at first, Althea, 'tis most true
With Love to her, and but Respect to you.
But, ah! how soon within my tortur'd brest
You of each others places are possest!
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Beauty, the wrongs of Beauty shou'd revenge,
And the fair punish, when the faithless change.
Hora.
I change Althea, but (as pious men
Become blest Saints) never to change agen.
If none your matchless Beauty must adore,
But such alone as never lov'd before,
You do unjustly, and too high advance
In Love th'already too great power of chance:
Since that you shou'd their first affection be,
Let's you their Fortune, not their passion see.
Alth.
It lets me see they falshood never knew.
And gives me leave to hope they will be true.
Hora.
Sure none can faithless to such Beauty prove;
He that's in Heaven, can no higher move.
Alth.
A Lovers Heaven in his Phansie lyes,
Which Beauty oft neglects, and oft supplies.
Hora.
'Tis not, Althea, that you question mine,
But 'tis Eugenio's faith does brighter shine;
'Tis he that makes Victoria's wrong your pain,
My Love a Crime, a Vertue your disdain.
These tales of falshood, and of former Love,
Reproaches only, where we like not, prove.
Alth.
Horatio, I am glad your dis-respect
Has turn'd so soon to Justice my neglect:
You that reproach me with a former Love,
Your self unfit but for my anger prove.
[Exit Althea.
Hora.
O stay a while! sure you must joy to see
The torture you're so pleas'd to work in me;
Not that I hope I shall your pity find,
But that the sight may glut your cruel mind.
Nature inconstant to her own designs,
To a fair form a cruel temper joyns;
She makes the heedless Lover kneel in vain,
And in Loves Temple, to adore Disdain.
[Exit Horatio.
Enter Sir Samuel Forecast and Jack Wildish.
Fore.
When am I to see your fair and wealthy
Cousin, Mr. Wildish?
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This minute if you please, Sir.
Fore.
I doubt you are not stirring in the business,
You do not lay the necessity of marrying
Home enough to her: I might have got
Access ere now else, and our Counsel
Have been drawing the Writings.
Wild.
It must be done by degrees: if I shou'd
Have been too forward, it might have
Caus'd in her a suspicion of my purpose,
And so my worthy Friend Sir Samuel have
Come to her upon some prejudice,
Which I wou'd not for half her Fortune.
Fore.
Pray, Mr. Wildish, is she so concern'd for
Her late Husband as the world talks?
Wild.
Ten times more; looks upon his Picture
All day long, as earnestly as if she were
To copy it; since he dy'd, has us'd no Pocket-
Handkerchers, but what was made of his old Shirts,
And wets two a day of 'um with her tears;
Because he dy'd on a Monday, fasts that day
Of the week; takes none into her Service
But Thomases, because 'twas his Christian
Name, and has now sent into Wales for a
Thomas ap Thomas to be her Gentleman-usher.
Fore.
'Tis strange she shou'd so affect his name!
What think you then, if you call'd me
Sir Thomas Forecast?
Wild.
Faith, Sir, what you please; but I think
It will be altogether needless, and if she shou'd
Come to discover, it might spoil all, s'light,
She might mistrust your particular, if she
Shou'd find you put a trick upon her in
Your name.
Fore.
Well, I'le be rul'd by you, Mr. VVildish,
You know her humour best.
VVild.
I can't but think how she'l look upon
Me when I talk to her of another Husband;
But I'le venture, Sir Samuel, to serve you.
28
[They enter the VVidows house.
VVild.
I show the way, Sir.
[They find her looking upon her Husbands Picture, and does not see 'um.
Fore.
Excellent woman, she sees us not! O the
Endless treasure of a virtuous Wife!
It extends even to our memories, and
Pictures.
[Wildish goes up, and speaks to her
VVild.
Madam, here is Sir Samuel Forecast
Come to wait on you.
VVid.
Sir, I hope you'le pardon me, if I have
Let my grief employ any part of that time
Which was due to my acknowledgment for
This favour; you were my Husbands friend,
And as such will ever be most welcome to me;
And though his too scrupulous kindness allow'd
Me not the acquaintance, scarce the sight of
Any man; yet I did always place a value
Where he gave his esteem, especially,
So highly as he did to you.
Fore.
Madam, I am much bound to you for your
Good opinion, and come to condole with you:
Your Husband was an honest, prudent, and a
Wealthy Gentleman, kept good hours, and even
Reckonings, lov'd me well, and we have drank
Many a Dish of Coffee together.
VVid.
Sir, whilst you repeat his vertues, you do
But count my loss, and telling me how good
He was, makes me but more sensibly want him.
Fore.
He and I were just of an age, and when
We were Boys, of a strength.
VVid.
And what of that, Sir?
VVild.
Why, Cousin it makes me think that Sir
Samuel wou'd make as loving a Husband
To you, as your last was, and I'le swear it
Troubles me heartily to see my pretty Coz.
29
Younger Brothers, such as marry Wives only
To keep Wenches, and never bring 'um to Town
But to pass away some part of their Estates.
Fore.
Some such there are; but Heaven bless the
Estate, and Widow of my good Friend your
Husband out of such hands.
Wid.
Now I have brought you together,
I'le leave you; Cousin, you are not afraid to
Be left alone with Sir Samuel?
[Exit.
Wid.
I know his Vertue, and my own too well.
Fore.
Don't you find, Madam, business very troublesome?
Wid.
I do indeed, and have the misfortune to be
Involv'd in it.
Fore.
Have you many Law-suits?
Wid.
But one considerable, which being with
A man in power, in these corrupt times,
A Woman unfriended and unknown as I am,
Must expect to lose.
Fore.
Of what value?
Wid.
Five thousand pounds: I shall have enough
Left however, to make me happy with a man
That loves me.
Fore.
Enough left! such another word wou'd
Make me foreswear, not only thee but thy
Whole Sex; five thousand pounds well dispos'd,
Why I tell thee, 'tis able to procure as Judgments
On half the young Prodigals of this Age; thou
And I might live comfortably on the forbearance
Money, and let the Interest run on.
Wid.
I did but put the worst, not that I doubt my
Title, if I have common Justice.
Fore.
No, thou shalt secure thy Title, I am a
Near Kinsman to the Judge, and a by-way to
His favour.
Wid.
How do you mean?
Fore.
Why I have many times bought a thousand
Pounds worth of other mens Lands of him
For a hundred.
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I wou'd not corrupt Justice for a world.
Fore.
What agen Widow? nay then I perceive
Thou do'st it on purpose to lose my heart:
But to say truth, it were unreasonable
To expect thy tender years shou'd understand
The true worth of money, so far, that for its sake
To trample on those unprofitable and foolish principles
The honourable Beggars of former times Govern'd their
Lives by: But thou wilt one day know, that
Age hath its beauties too, as well as youth, and
More universally ador'd.
Wid.
Gravity and Wisdom, Sir, I know men may
Expect, but our Sex has no pretence to them.
Fore.
No, wealth and power, Widow, which awe the grave
And wise; Gold and Silver are the best red and white;
The other, every Milk-Maid may boast equal with
A Countess.
Enter Sir John Everyoung, Modish, and Estridge, with Fiddles playing.
Wid.
What rude fellow's that?
Ever.
Hold, let's parlee first.
[To the Musick.
Faith, Widow, one that loves you but too well.
Wid.
Love me! upon what acquaintance? I n'ere
Saw your face before in my days.
Ever.
And do'st thou like it now?
VVid.
Not so well as your self, you may be confident.
Ever.
All this shan't cross my honest purpose, I
Came in meer charity to prevent thy ruine;
And if thou be'st not lost to all sence and reason,
Nay, even all natural appetite, I'le do't.
VVid.
I know no ruine neer, this is the worst
Accident has befaln me a good while.
Ever.
Hear me but out, and thou shalt bless it;
Canst thou be such a Traytor to flesh and blood,
As to count it nothing to be join'd to that old Trunk
There? if he encrease or multiply, it
31
Are his best Instruments,
VVid.
You don't consider that all this might be
As well apply'd to your sweet self.
Ever.
Yes, most properly, why 'tis that makes me
Hate Matrimony, and puts me at distance
With, To have and to hold; I confess my Tick
Is not good, and I never desire to Game for more than
I have about me. Now second me.
Mod.
The minute you marry, Widow, you are
Not worth a Groat, all is your Husbands;
And if hereafter you shall come to a sence
Of your unequal choice, and endeavour to
Repair it in some young and worthy friend;
The old Gentleman takes pet, turns you over
To a tedious sute for Alimony, which your
Friend furnishes you with money to follow,
For a while, and in times grows weary of it
Himself.
Estr.
Then like an old Gamester, that has lost all
He has upon the square, your only way is
To turn Rook and play upon advantage.
VVid.
Why, do you know these Gentlemen?
Fore.
I, to my shame, the Ring-leader of 'um is my
Brother, there is no remedy but patience.
VVid.
Gentlemen, you talk at a strange rate
For the first time; but whom ever I marry
My vertue will secure him of my constancy.
Mod.
Pray Madam, don't prophane that honourable
Name; 'tis meer obstinacy to an old man,
A fault methinks you have too ingenious a
Countenance to be guilty of.
Ever.
If thou should'st be so improvident, as to
Neglect the comfort of a Gallant, thou'lt never
'Scape the scandal, having such a Husband.
Mod.
If you are precise, Madam, they'le give you
Your Chaplain; if you love business, your
Lawyer; if you keep a Gentleman-Usher,
32
Estr.
If you take some honest Gentleman
(Which by my troth I think is your best
Course) upon the first hard journey, as the world
Goes now, 'tis ten to one he falls lame of an
Old bruise.
Wid.
You are very tender of my credit, if you
Had been as careful, Gentlemen, of your own
Sobriety, I fear I had mist all this good Counsel.
Ever.
O! are you edified? it is good counsel then:
And for the warmth that ripen'd us to this care
Of thee, be thankful, and enquire no further.
But Brother, methinks you are over-serious
For a man that comes a Sutering.
Widd.
He does not find your mirth take so well.
[Enter Wildish apart.
Wild.
S'light here's Sir John Everyoung, he'le spoil
All, if I don't take him off instantly.
[Wild. goes out, and brings in three of the Widows Maids.
Fore.
Brother, Brother, these frolicks do you
No right in the eye of the World.
Ever.
Hang the world, give me the pretty black-eye
Of the Widdow.
[A Song.
Wild.
Gentlemen, here's work for you.
Ever.
A muss, a muss!
You see, Wildish, we found the House, though
You wou'd not tell us where it was, 'tis
Dangerous to give a hint to men of our parts.
Brother, take your Widdow, show her that
You are so far qualified towards a Bridegroom,
As to lead a Country Dance.
Widd.
I'le have no dancing in my House.
Fore.
You see they are a little merry, humer 'um
In this, they'le be gone the sooner.
VVid.
Well, Sir Samuel Forecast, any thing
33
[They Dance, and Forecast steals away.
Mod.
Sir Samuel gone?
Ever.
Faith then the sport's at the best, let's all be gone:
Farewel Widow, I have done my part, if
Thou fallest now, say thou hadst fair warning.
[Ex. omnes.
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