University of Virginia Library

SCENE changes. Enter Viola.
Viol.
“This is the Place, I have out-told the Clock
“For haste—He is not here—Rinaldo—No—
“Now every Pow'r that loves and is belov'd
“Keep me from Shame to Night. I cannot back:
“I threw the Key within.—But oh Rinaldo!
“Sure thou wilt come; thou must. If thou deceivest me,
“What Woman will e'er trust a Man again.

Anton.
[within]
“Thou art overlong at thy Pot Don John,
“Thou art overlong at thy Pot, Don.

Viol.
“Bless me! Who's that?

Silv.
[within.]
Phooh!

Rinald.
[within]
There, Boys.

Viol.
“Darkness, be thou my Cover, I must fly:
“To thee I haste for Help. They have a light;
“Wind, if thou lov'st a Virgin, blow it out.

Enter Antonio, Rinaldo, Silvio, and a Drawer with Flambeaus.
Rin.
Boy!

Draw.
“Sir!

Rin.
“Why, Boy!

Draw.
“What say you, Sir?

Rin.
“Boy, art thou drunk, Boy?

Draw.
“What wou'd you, Sir?

Anton.
“Ay, that's the point.

Draw.
“Why, Sir, you'll be at your Lodgings presently.

Rinal.
“I'll go to no Lodgin

Draw.
“Whither will you go then?

Anton.
“We'll go no farther.

Draw.
“For Heav'n's sake, Gentlemen, don't stay here all Night.

Anton.

“No more we will not, Boy.—Lay me down, and rowl
me to a Whore.

Silv.

“And me to another.

Rinal.

“Ay, there's some sense in that; we are too sober for civil
Womens Company.

Viol.

“That is Rinaldo—Rinaldo

Rinal.

“What's that, Boy?

Draw.

“'Tis a Wench, Sir; pray, Gentlemen, come away.

Viol.

“Oh my dear Love! how dost thou?

Rinal.

“Faith, Sweetheart, e'en as thou seest.

Silv.

“A Wench!
“Where's this Wench?

Viol.

“Speak softly, for the Love of Heaven.

Draw.

“Mistress, get you gone, and don't entice the Gentlemen,
now you see they are drunk, or I'll call the Watch, and lay you
fast enough.

Viol.

“Alas! what are you? And what do you mean?
Sweet Love, where, where's the Place?

Rinal.

“Marry sweet Love, e'en here, and so lie down.

Viol.

“Oh frightful [Antonio and Silvio seize her.]
Good Heaven,
what mean you?

Silv.

“I'll have the Wench.

Anton.

“If you can get her.

Silv.

“Let go the Wench.

Anton.

“Let you go the Wench.

Viol.

“Oh! Gentlemen, as you had Mothers—

Rinal.

They had no Mothers, they are Sons of Whores.

Anton.

You lie, my Mother was a civil Woman, and had a Husband
as sober a Man as my self.

Rinal.
“Who gives the Lie?

[Draws.
Silv.
“Ay, the Lie, Rascal!

[He and Antonio draw.
Viol.
“Oh! bless me, Heaven.

Anton.
“How many is there on's?

Rinal.
“About five.

Anton.
“Why then let's fight three to three.

Silv.
“Content.

[They push at random, and fall down.
Draw.
“The Watch! the Watch! the Watch! Where are you?

[Ex.
Rinal.
“Where are these Cowards?

Anton.
“Where's the Whore?

Silv.
“Oh!

Rinal.
“I mist you narrowly there.

Viol.
Oh let me fly from this wild Herd of Savages:
“And thou dear Heaven I know not what to ask thee.
“My State is such I want a Prayer fit for me.
But let my pityed Sex your Mercy move,
That never Maiden more may be in love.

[Exit.
Enter Corrigidore, Drawer and Watch.
Corr.
“Where are they, Boy?

Draw.
“Make no such haste; they are no Runners.

Corr.
What! my good Friend Antonio!

Anton.
Your Friend! you lie, I'm no Friend to Nightwalkers.

Draw.

“Come, Gentlemen, never trouble your selves to talk with
them, they are past Sense to answer you; but lend 'em your helping
Hands to raise 'em.

Draw.

Now you are up, Sir, will you go to Bed.

[They raise him.]
Anton.

“I'll truckle here, Boy: Give me another
Pillow.

Draw.

“Will you stand up then, and let me lay it on?

Ant.

“Yes.

Draw.

“There, hold him two of you.—Now they are up,
move forwards.

Rinal.

“And this way and that way, Tom.

Silv.

“And here away, and there away, Tom.

All.

“Thou art over-long at thy Pot, Don John.

Rinal.

“Lead valiantly, sweet Midnight Magistrates. Whoop-ha,
Boys!

Corr.

“This Wine hunts in their Heads.

Rinal.

“Give me the Bill; for I'll be the Serjeant.

[Snatches Staff.]
Corr.

“Look to him, Sirs.

Rinal.

“Keep your Ranks, you Rascals, keep your Ranks.

[Exeunt.
C. C. Wife.

Well, how do you like this Crew of Madmen?

C. C. Man.

Oh! well enough; Drunkenness is its own Looking-Glass
And the very Picture of the Sin is half enough to convert the Sinner.
I find no Fault in the Representation of that Vice upon the Stage.

C. C. Wife.

No, 'tis your Jilts and your Gypsies, your Wantons and
your Libertines, that the loose Scriblers of this Age dress up so lovely
is the crying Shame of the Stage, but I hope you'll find no such in this
Play.

C. C. Man.

No; if I did I should soon be upon the Bones of 'em.