University of Virginia Library

ACT. V.

Scene continues.
Enter Mrs. Lovely.
Mrs. Lo.
My Husband gone abroad at this late Hour,
And in disorder too? What shou'd it mean?
I'm terribly afraid I am discover'd.
In what a horrid Slavery am I?
How many do I fear? And must obey,
Or suffer Shame, which I hate more than Death:
I'll drive the painful Thoughts out o' my Mind.
Who's there?
[Enter a Servant.
Go bid my Maid sing the new Song.—

Enter Lionell.
Lio.
Oh! Madam! Madam! I've ill news for you.
You have been tamp'ring with a barbarous fellow.
What d'ye think Mr. Polidor has done?
Highly enrag'd because you hid Squire Thornback;
He has been blabbing: he has told my Master.—

Mrs. Lo.
What has he told him?—

Lio.
Nay, nay, be not frightned,
For as his Tongue was prancing to the Devil,
He rein'd it in, and only told my Master,
He made love to you, and you lent an ear.

Mrs. Lo.
Oh! Villain! vain, ungrateful, loose tongu'd Villain.

Lio.
Nay, nay, be comforted, all will be well:
For Mr. Polidor repents his rashness,
And has contriv'd to do you good by it.

Mrs. Lo.
'Twill do me good, I'll never intrigue more.

Lio.
You know my Master has pretended business
Abroad to night; that's nothing but a trick
Agreed between 'em; he's to stay and watch,
And see how you treat Mr. Polidor:
And Mr. Polidor desires you, Madam,
To use him scurvily, and then you'l set
All right again; and bravely fop my Master.

Mrs. Lo.
Nay, I believe we may delude my Husband:
But who can rule Polidor's prating Tongue?

Lio.
Nay, Men are lying, bragging, prating things.

Mrs. Lo.
Their chiefest Luxury consists in bragging.
They take more pleasure to enjoy a Beauty
In empty bragging, than in their embraces.
My Story will soon fly like Powder fir'd,
And shake the Town with laughing at my shame.
I'll to some distant unknown Wilderness,
Where never any day, or Man appear'd.
Washes and Washes were my Study once;
Now Penitential Tears shall be my Wash,
Where I will bathe my Soul, and whiten it,
If I have one; for I can scarce believe
Heaven to a Woman wou'd entrust a Soul.
Nature to our frail Sex is not a Friend;
She for our ruin Gifts on us bestows,
Charms to allure, no Power to oppose.
In Passion we are strong, in Reason weak,
Constant alone to error and mistake;
In Vertue feign'd, in Vanity sincere,
Witty in sin, and for damnation fair.

[Ex. Mrs. Lo. & Lio.
Enter Lovely, and Polidor.
Lo.
Methinks this Woman shou'd not be false to me.
I love not Vanity, but I am forc'd on't—
What can she ask in Man, which I have not?
I've Youth.

Pol.
Too much, it makes thee over fond.

Lo.
I've Vigour.

Pol.
Ev'ry where, but in thy Head.

Lo.
I've Wit.

Pol.
And folly too, a needful thing.

Lo.
So 'tis, in him, who means to please a Woman;
And I have folly, or I ne're had Married.
I've Beauty.

Pol.
Th'art th'Adonis of the Age.

Lo.
The Orpheus too, I Sing.

Pol.
Ay, And in Tune;
Which many cannot do, who live by Singing.

Lo.
And in my own Songs, I sing; for I write Songs.

Pol.
And Sense; a thing not done by many Poets;
Some of them write but Rime, dry Rime, so dry,
If they were not supply'd some other way,
Their Helicon wou'd never make 'em drink.—

Lo.
Then I have Noble Birth, and a large Fortune.

Pol.
Not on thy Forehead—I hope—See, Lionell
Is here, retire! retire!—
[Ex. Lo. and enter Lionell.
So, what's the News? Speak softly, your Master's
Within hearing.

Lio.
My Lady was in a wonderful Rage, when I told
Her how I had serv'd her.

Pol.
Well, that I might have guess'd, without your telling.

Lio.
I was forc'd to let her Fury vent it self, before
She was capable of Reason; now she's calm, and
Will come.—

[Ex. Lio. and enter Lovely.
Lo.
What says Lionell?

Pol.
Your Lady will come.

Lo.
Then she's a Strumpet, and you are a Traytor.

Pol.
How, Lovely?

Lo.
A Traytor, I say.

Pol.
Does this become you?

Lo.
De'e mock me, Sir? What can become a Cuckold?

Pol.
I thought y'ad been of a more gentle Nature.

Lo.
Oh! Sir, you thought I'de ha' been ridden patiently;
I will y'ave rid one half of me, my Wife;
Now pray, Sir, mount the other half, mount me.
Who's there? Get Polidor his Boots and Spurs,
A Bridle he needs none; I ha' one i' my mouth—
I'm Married with a Pox!
That any honest Gentleman shou'd Marry!
Marriage is worse than Bridewell to our Sex:
Strumpets are Whip'd in Bridewell, but in Marriage
Harlots are daily Rods for honest Men.
I wou'd have none but Malefactors marry.
Instead of drudging in Plantations,
I'de have 'em doom'd to stay at home and marry,
Plough their own Wives, and Plant that Weed Mankind.
Be my Wife true or false, th'art a base Fellow
For undertaking such a Paltry Office.

Pol.
'Tis very well; did you not beg me, Sir?—

Lo.
Yes, I confess; I begg'd thee for my Fool;
Therefore I ought to be thy Guardian;
But if thou wer't any Man's Fool but mine,
Hadst done this at another Man's request,
I wou'd Correct thee; swingingly Correct thee.

Pol.
Correct me! I despise thee, laugh at thee.
If I've enjoy'd thy Wife, th'ast been my Fool.

Lo.
Enjoy'd!

Pol.
Enjoy'd.

Lo.
Don't say't, or think it, Sir.

Pol.
Release me from the Tyes of Friendship to you,
And I'll both say't, and do't.—

Lo.
How, do't?

Pol.
Ay, do't.—
That is, if your fair Wife will give consent.

Lo.
Well, if you do, 'tis but what I deserve;
I'm tame, not out of any fear, you know.

Pol.
And I more fear to do, than suffer wrong;
You know it, Sir.

Lo.
I know you brave enough;
And for that reason I believe you honest.
But she's a Whore.

Pol.
I hope in Heaven she is.

Lo.
To steal by Night to you, so near her Bed-Chamber!
'Tis a plain Introduction to her Bed.

Pol.
'Tis the road to it, and gad I will jog on:
But I'm afraid she'll stop me by the way,
And only means gay faultless liberty,
In which some Women love to have their swing,
And they can measure it to a Hairs-breadth.

Lo.
Pox o' their even hands; I'm mad to find
A Strumpet and my Wife a measuring cast.
She, who will run so near the brink of Sin,
If strongly push'd, is sure to tumble in.
But come let's see the end of this Affair.—

[Lo. hides.
Enter at another Door, Mrs. Lovely.
Mrs. Lo.
So, Mr. Polidor!
I perceive your Addresses to me were serious.

Pol.

Ay, believe it, Madam; most Men are serious at the Bar of their
Judge, when their Lives are at stake, upon your Sentence my Life depends.

Mrs. Lo.
Is't possible? Then wou'd you rob your Friend,
Your bosom Friend, of his most dear lov'd Wife?
I did not think Man cou'd have been so false,
And made the Assignation for a jeast.
Now you indeed pursue your horrid purpose;
I come to look upon you as a Monster.
You have no Honour—Conscience—nor Eyes:
Do you not see my Husband's a young Gentleman?
One of the handsom'st Men in the whole World?
Pray, why shou'd I change him for any Man?

Lo.
Oh! rare! oh! rare!

[Lo. peeps, and listens.
Mrs. Lo.
Go—go—I laugh at you,
But if you ever trouble me again,
Upon my word, I will have worse revenge.

[She goes out in a great Rage—and Pol. shrugs, taking her words as they are meant, in a double Sense.]
Lo.
Dear Polidor! my honest Polidor!
My injur'd Polidor! forgive! forgive me.

Pol.
What Polidor de'e speak too? Not to me?
I am a Traytor; I've abus'd your Bed.

Lo.
Thou art an Angel, and hast scatter'd Joys
About my Bed, transporting Joys, I'm—rapt.
Not that I'de have thee pardon me too soon,
For that will spoil me, and encourage me
To play the Fool again; no beat me, kick me.—

Pol.
Kick you, and Cuckold you too? No, that's too much.

Lo.
Cuckold me? Ha! ha! honest, poor dear Polidor
Th'ast suffer'd so much for thy honesty,
I almost wish that thou might'st Cuckold me
For half an hour, to make thee some amends.

Pol.
This I can bear from thee, but I'll renounce
Your House, ay, and your Lady too, for ever.

Lo.
Poor Rogue! art angry th'art come off so blank?

Pol.
Pox o' you handsom Fellows; there's no getting
A Woman from you, I will ne're endeavour
To Cuckold a young handsom Rogue again.

Lo.
P'shaw! th'art the graceful'st Fellow in the World:
And I'm the happiest—what a Wife have I?
How fond she is of Honour, and of me?
Ah! how she rated thee, for what she thought
Dishonourable Treachery to me?
I told you her humour: If a brave Ambition
To be admir'd and honour'd, be a foible,
Gad, let me tell you, 'tis a noble foible.
Well, now I am convinc'd I have her Soul;
And the Soul's all in all the Beauty in Beauty.
Tho' she has Charming Lips, if, when I Kiss her,
I shou'd taste only Conscience, and cold Duty,
I'de as lieve kiss the Common-Prayer Book:
Now she will fuddle me with every Kiss;
For I shall taste the Quintessence of Bliss.
Well, Polidor, I'm much indebted to thee.

Pol.
Ay, more than you can pay; by serving you,
I am afraid I've lost my fair Camilla.
My Courtship to your Wife has reach'd her Ear.

Lo.
Oh! you may have her upon terms of Marriage,
I warrant you;—But wou'd you marry her?

Pol.
With all my heart, I'm tir'd with lewd Intrigues.
There's more vexation in 'em than they're worth.
I have a mind to fix, but know not where,
Except on her; she's a reserv'd young Beauty;
And marry her, I marry but one Woman,
And th'only perfect Creature of her Sex.
But if I marry a vain visiting Beauty,
I marry half the Gossips in the Town.
I shall have them as oft as I have her;
And they will rule my House as much as she shall.

Lo.
Say she brings twenty thousand Pound.

Pol.
What then?
Who will she bring it too? Why, not to me?
But to her Mercers, and her Milliners,
To India Houses, and to Basset Tables.
And for this Fortune, which I shall not share,
I must on her, settle the Devil and all.
But I am sure I shall not settle her;
For every Fool will have her more than I.
But if I have Camilla for a Wife,
She'll lay out all my Money upon me;
And, what's far better, her sweet Charming self.

Lo.
Yet I believe you rather wou'd debauch her.

Pol.
I have sometimes design'd to go that way:
But still I met an Angel in her Face,
Made me start back, like Balaam's frightned Ass.

Lo.
Well, to requite the service thou hast done me,
Before she sleeps, I'll try to make her thine;
And may she prove just such a Wife as mine.

[Ex. Lo. Pol.
Enter Mrs. Lovely, and Lionell.
Mrs. Lo.

Oh! what a scape have I had? Lionell, I am much beholding
to thee, for thy assistance, in this scurvy business.

Lio.

Madam I was bound in Conscience, to help you out of a snare,
into which I brought you. I made you hide Mr. Thorneback. You are
clear of all Sin with him; I am sure. Ah! wou'd you were as free
from t'other Offence.

Mrs. Lo.

Ah! wou'd I were, Lionell.

Lio.

Really, Madam; I wonder how you cou'd do such a thing.
I protest, I'de not ha' done it, for a Thousand Pound, and a Thousand.

Mrs. Lo.

Nay, prethee, talk of it no more.

Lio.

I thank Heaven, I am Vertuous. He that has me, will have
a Vertuous Wife. I know Squire Thorneback comes with hopes to fool
me out of my Vertue; and I encourage him, in hopes to draw him
into Marriage; but if my old Water-wagtail will only hop about the
brinks of Marriage, and never step in, I'll drive him away. Last time
he was here, we cou'd not have opportunity to talk; so he sent me

word he'd come to Night again; if he does, I'll know what he
means.

Mrs. Lo.

Do, Lionell; 'tis pity thou shoud'st not be well bestowed;
thou art very pretty.

Lio.

Oh! Madam! you are pleas'd to say so.

Mrs. Lo.

Wou'd I were so handsom.

Lio.
Oh! sweet Madam!

Oh! Poor Heart! how low she's fallen, to be a Flatterer o' me? I shall
be asham'd to keep her.—

[Aside.
Mrs. Lo.

Come, Lionell, I'll set thy things about thee a little handsomely,
against he comes; and lend thee any thing o' mine. Come,
thou shalt have this Ring off my Finger.—'Twill become thy
pretty Hand.—

[She gives her a Ring.
Lio.
Oh! Good Madam!

Ah! poor Soul! how humble and kind she's grown. She's strangely
mended. Well, I see a little iniquity does one good sometimes.—

[Aside.—
Well, what a Cully have we made my Master?
How he prais'd you for seeming fond of Honour?
When Heaven knows, if you can save your own,
His may go hang. Men thunder one another,
But in our hands they're nothing. Oh! what Gullyes,
What Coxcombs, and what Cuckolds do we make 'em?
When e're I see a Man, I laugh in's face.

Enter Thorneback, peeping.
Th.

Ha! with her Lady? Well, this is the Craft of her Lady, to
hook in a Visit to her self; for I am sure they are Confidents. The
Lady knows I am to visit her Woman. But why cannot the Lady
come directly to the point, and encourage me? Ladies, like their own
Shocks, will wheel, and wheel, e're they lie down in Laps.—I'll appear
—Dear, Madam.

Mrs. Lo.
Thou here again? Begone thou odious Fool;
I'd rather die than bear the sight of thee.

Th.
Die and be damn'd; I'm not so fond of thee.
You believe all the World's in love with you.
I never valued you, forsooth, I came
After a prettier Woman, Mrs. Lionell;
Whom I shall quickly make a better Woman,
For I will marry her; and know, forsooth,
I am by birth a Peg above your Husband.
He's but an ordinary Squire, and I
Am th'only Sprig of a great Noble Family.
Come pretty Rogue, I'll marry thee to night.

[Ex. Mrs. Lo.
Lio.
Your Servant, Squire; and shall I be the Lady
Of a great honourable high-born Squire?

Th.
Ay, and take place o' thy proud Lady there.
Come Dear, where shall we get a Marriage-jobber?
A holy Joyner, to put us together?

Lio.
Here in the House, is a Genteel young Parson,
A Kinsman o' my Master's, he'l be glad
To do a little Job o' Journey-work,
For a young Woman.

Th.
Come, my pretty Rogue.

Lio.
Come, Squire!

[Ex. Th. Lionell.
Enter Sir John Shittlecock, and Polidor.
Sir Joh.

Dear Mr. Polidor, I must speak with you—'Tis about a
young Lady in this House, Madam Sistly, I'm stark mad in love with
her. You must know I once had her heart, and I have lost it, Pox!—
I'd give a hundred Pound to get it again—I can't sleep without it.—
Pox—you are great here—Gad, if you wou'd help me.—Pox:—

Pol.

What will you do with it, when you have it? Will you marry
her?

Sir Joh.
Marry her? Oh! Pox! d'ye think I won't? Pox:
Ay, with all my Soul.

Pol.

The Rogue, has a pretty Estate, and she but a small Fortune, I'll
make the Match.— (Aside)
—Well, I'll assist you in it.

Sir Joh.

Thank you, dear Mr. Polidor, I'll do you as much service with
all my heart—I'll marry you to any body.

Pol.
I'm much oblig'd to your, Sir.

Enter Cecilia.
Sir Joh.
Oh! Gad! here she comes! I dare not see her—
I'le run away from her; Egad I won't—I'll stay, and
If she be angry, I'll be as angry as she.

Pol.
Madam—here is an humble Servant o' yours.—

Ce.
I'll ha' nothing to do with him; I can't abide him.
He makes love to every body he sees.

Sir Joh.
Oh! Pox, Madam:—only in Gallantry.—

Pol.
Heark you, Madam; he has a pretty Estate.—

Ce.

I don't care for his Estate, nor him neither. I'll ha' no body but
those that I love, and those that love me.

Sir Joh.
And do you think I don't love you, Madam?
I love you more than I am able to express—Pox.

Pol.
I'll tell you how you shall express your love.
The Form of Marriage best expresses Love.
He loves, that from his heart can say those words.

Sir Joh.
I'll marry her to night, with all my Soul.

Ce.
I won't have you.

Pol.
Kneel, kneel, and beg.—

Sir Joh.
I will—with all my Soul.
[Kneels.
Gad—I wont Kneel—I'll be as dogged as she—
If she won't ha' me, let her chuse—

[Rises again.
Pol.
Do you see, Madam? you'l lose him—have a care.

Ce.
Well I'll forgive him; but I cou'd find i' my
heart not to do it.

Sir Joh.
And shall we marry?

Ce.
Yes, may be I will—may be I won't—

Sir Joh.
I'm overjoy'd! but hark, Mr. Polidor, a word,
Now I ha' got her consent, I care for no more—Pox—
I don't care for marrying—Pox—

[Aside to Pol.
Pol.
How! not marry her, after you have promised her:
Oh! 'twill be base!—

[Aside to Sir Joh.]
Sir Joh.
Oh! right! it will be base, I'll marry her,—Pox.
Faith I've no mind—Yes faith—I have—
Oh! faith! I'll marry her with all my Soul—
[Aside to Pol.]
Come, my Dear Soul! let's go together, Dear.—

[Ex. Sir Joh. & Ce.
Pol.
A giddy Fool! how fast his Brains turn round!
The fair Camilla?

Enter Camilla.
Cam.
How dare you be here?
For to my knowledg you were lately banish'd:
But you deserv'd severer Punishment.

Pol.
For taking the heart from you, I once gave you?
Madam, I will be sworn I never did.

Cam.
Well, if you did, that is but petty-Larceny;
An honest Jury, especially of Women,
Won't value such a heart as yours at ten-pence.
But for the barbarous robbery committed
On your kind Friend, I think you deserve death.

Pol.
Madam, suppose I conquer'd Mrs. Lovely;
Then, Madam, see the triumph of your Beauty;
I'll part with my Dominion over her,
To be your Vassal, by the name of Husband.

Cam.
Oh! Sir! we are not fit for one another;
I have no Fortune, Sir, and that you love:
You've no Religion, Sir, and that I love.

Pol.
I love to live in decency and ease,
And I've enough for that to serve us both.

Cam.
I have enough for me, without your help.

Pol.
You are a Light, and ought to shine aloft;
And I can give you a convenient rise,
Some five and twenty hundred Pound a year.

Cam.
That tempts not me.

Pol.
Well, though you own Religion,
I do not find you are of any Church.

Cam.
How? of no Church?

Pol.
No, Madam; what, slight Money?
You're a Dissenter from all Churches, Madam.
And truly you renounce your Nation.
Can you pretend to be of English Blood,
And will not part with any thing for Money?

Cam.
Nay, Money is too much ador'd amongst us;
Merit gets nothing without Money here.
Well, Heaven without Money may be had.

Pol.
Nay, no doubt, Madam, you will go to Heaven:
But 'tis great pity you shou'd go a foot.

Cam.
I think the Foot-path is the readiest way;
So many Coaches wander, that methinks
The way appears too narrow for a Coach.
I observe many of our Spiritual Guides,
When they're in Coaches, drive another Road.

Pol.
Madam, 'tis true; therefore be you my Guide;
And out of love to Goodness pity me,
Your love will charm me into Piety.

Cam.
Not when I am your Wife, Charmers and Sorceresses
Lose all their power when they are in bonds.
I will not countenance so bad a man.

Pol.
Cruel young Beauty, you are to this Town,
Like a cold Spring; how many tender Plants
Does your severity suppress and kill?
You spoil the growth of hundreds of young Sparks,
They languish, and will ne're be perfect men.
You nip much blooming wit, we fear 'twill die,
Instead of sprouting upwards, it shoots down.
And now you check my budding Piety.
I wou'd and shou'd be good if you were mine;
Vertue will then have all your Charms to win me,
And sin have no temptation to corrupt me.
When I'm possest of you, I've all I wish;
But you to new Temptations cast me off;
Now if I sin, my sin be at your door.

Cam.
Well, if I yield, record it in your thoughts,
'Tis not by your Estate to raise my Fortune;
But to advance your Vertue by my love,
For I will be no richer than I am;
I will with you have nothing but your self.

Pol.
Can I content thee? thou shalt have me all,
Were I ten Polidors; and wou'd I were,
T'enjoy thee ten times more than I can now.

Cam.
Madam, I'm hither come at your Command,
What is your Pleasure?

Enter Mrs. Lovely.
Mrs. Lo.
'Tis to share in Pleasure, Madam.
My Husband is to night in excellent humour,
And is resolv'd upon a Ball and an Entertainment, and
Desir'd me to invite you, as one of the best of my Friends.

Cam.
Madam, I shall be proud to call you Friend,
If you continue in that good state of mind, where last
I left you.

Mrs. Lo.
Madam I do, and shall do so, I hope.
Blest be the day when first we came acquainted.

Mrs. Lovely makes Signs of anger at Polidor.
Enter Lovely.
Lo.
What quarrelling again with Polidor? Ha! ha!
My over-vertuous Dear! good to excess.
Come he's a better man, than thou believ'st.—
Pardon him, I say, and let us all be happy—
My Charming Rogue.—

Enter Thornback and Lionell.
Lio.
Madam, I'm married; I am Madam Thornback.

Mrs. Lo.
I'm glad on't—Mrs. Bride, I wish you joy.

Lo.
So do I.

Pol.
And I.

[All Salute Lionell.
Enter Cecilia, and Sir John Shittlecock.
Ce.
Oh! Sister! I'm my Lady Shittlecock.

Sir Joh.
And I'm King Shittlecock; King Salomon,
And here's my Queen of Sheba, who is leaving
Her habitation, to see my Glory.

Mrs. Lo.
Sister, you have made quick dispatch; but I hear
Sir John is a Gentleman of a good Family and Estate;
So I am glad of your good Fortune, Sister.

Lo.
So am I.

Cam.
I wish you joy, Madam.

[All Salute Cecilia.
Sir Joh.
Oh! Pox! wou'd I were unmarried; that Madam
Camilla is handsomer than my Wife. No—Pox!—Yes, Pox!
No Pox! my Wife is handsomer than she.

Lo.
Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, you shall give me
Leave to treat you, and the Married Couples shall bed here.

Thorn., Sir Joh.
A match! a match.

Lo.
Go bid the Fiddles strike up:
[A Dance.
Now I've all Joys by me on Earth desir'd:
By her I most admire, I am admir'd.

[Exeunt.