University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

Enter Bayes, Chanter and Smith, he pulling in Johnson, who was going.
Bayes.

These toping Queens have given us a
notable Touch of their Quality, egad,
for they have whip'd off a Pottle of
Chocolate, before a Couple of Subjects
could have manag'd two Dishes—We must have Patience
till more's made; therefore not to lose time, let's go on.
Come, enter Princes with their Mistresses, Armorilis and
Parthenope, Prince Volcius, you must know, has prov'd a
very Roger the Constant, but as for Prince Prettyman, a
former Love—.

Enter Prince Volcius, Prince Prettyman, Armorilis and Parthenope.
And a high point of Honour has made him swerve a little.

Smith.

Oh gad, I'm sorry for that with all my Heart.

Chant.

Methinks that's ungentleman like.

John.

Pish, thou art the Devil of a Fellow, hast no
Mercy; have I not been tir'd enough? Oh! for a fine
Spell, to hoist me through the Ceiling into the Air a little.

[To Smith aside.
Bayes.

There's a Necessity for't, Gentlemen, the Plot will
have it so.

John.

Whether you will or no, Ha!—

Bayes.

Ay, Sir, ay—Come Mrs.—a—

Smith.

That's very uncommon indeed.

Chant.

Hark, let's hear the Mistresses.

Arm.

Thus Joy is oft succeeding baleful Woe.

Bayes.

They have been talking, you must know, of their
late Delivery.

Arm.
Thus Roses Spring, where Nettles once did grow.
Since things, Sir, go so well, by general Voice,
Let's to the Garden Grotto and rejoice.

P. Vol.
And give your timely Thanks, with silent Noise.

[Exit Arm.
John.
Very obliging truly.

Chant.
Ay—I'll warrant her a good kind hearted thing.

Smith.
Ah, she has Reasons for't no doubt.

Bayes.

Private Matters must be settled, there has been
Kindness between 'em a great while, you know: Now the
t'other you'll find will be more sullen.

John.

And why so, pray?

Bayes.

'Dsdeath, Sir, I won't tell ye: Oh! the insupportable
Torment of Impertinence—Why here's to be another
Turn, Sir—Go on, Prince Prettyman.

John.

The Devil take thee and thy Turns, I grow horribly
Cropsick.

P. Pret.

Glory, sad Thoughts out from my Bosom root.

John.

Root, why do they grow there, like the Nettles she
was speaking of?

Smith.

Nay, nay, Johnson, let the Metaphor have fair Play,
don't murder it.

Bayes.

O Lord! O Lord! but hang't, I won't mind him
—Come, prithee answer Mrs—a—

Parth.
Why is your Heart disturb'd—Why, Sir, so mute?
Let's follow to the flowry Garden,
With Tales of Love I'll soften all your Care.

Bayes.

Soften all your Care—Is not that a pretty
Rogue? but now observe, now for the Turn. Come, Mrs.
—a—Pray mind your Cue.

[Bayes mimicks her.
Enter Thimblessa, beckons Prince Prettyman, and goes out.
P. Pret.
Hah—She's here—nay then,
The Fates will have it so, I'm call'd—And I
Controul'd, by Honour's Laws, dare not deny.
Go, Madam, take of amorous Thoughts your fill,
I'll come—I'm busy—If I can—I will.

[To Parthenope.
Bayes.

He's horribly disorder'd—damnably puzzled, but
must have her.

Smith.

Ah, Pox, this is unkind 'faith.

Bayes.

'Tis so, yet it can't be helpt, but you shall see a Salvo
for't presently. Come, Enter Madam Fleabitten.

[She comes in.
Flea.
Their Majesties the Queens, without Delay,
Madam, desire you'll come and drink some Tea.

[Exit. Parth. and Fleabitten.
Bayes.

Look'e there's some Honour to abate her Melancholly,
however; why now you gape and stare, and I warrant
wonder what this new Figure meant by her beck'ning,
and why the Prince is so surly—Why in two Words
then, this new Comer was his former Mistress; and when
he was found to be but a Fisherman's Son—was his
Sempstress—Kindness grew then, and Gratitude since to
such a Head, that the Prince being a Man of Honour, is
now in great Trouble of Mind—What's the Result you
shall hear—Speak, Sir—

P. Pret.
I'll follow.

[Exit.
Bayes.

So—very well,—let that pass; and now we must
vary the Matter, by a short Scene of Politicks.

Re-enter Fleabitten and Discipline.

Put on a plotting look Mrs.—a—Consider you are a Piece
of a Polititian—Come speak.

Smith.

She a Polititian! 'Dslife, Sir, I took her for a
Chambermaid.

Bayes.

A Chambermaid! One of the Queens chief Women
of the Bedchamber, as I hope to be fam'd—Was there
ever so vile a Thought, considering the grand Family of
the Fleabitten's? Besides, Ods Mortification, Death, and the
Devil and all—Has this polite Person the sneaking Air of
a Chambermaid?

Chant.

You see Smith's no Phisiognomist, Mr. Bayes.

John.

No, Pox on him, 'tis plain he said that to affront
thy Work; faith Poet, if I were thee, I'd let him hear no
more on't.

Smith.

Oh hang ye, why any Man breathing may mistake.

Bayes.

Mistake, ay gad, but that was a damnable one.
Come speak, speak, she'll soon undeceive ye—or I'm
mistaken.

Flea.

Well, Mr. Observator, what Intelligence have ye
brought me now—Hah—What?

Bayes.

Hah—What! smart and pert, you may know by
that she has been bred at Court.

Flea.

I assure ye, Sir, you have very ill supply'd me of late,
and I never was so ashamed in my Life, as I was last Night;

I was with some Ladies of Quality, of the first Rank of
Phizgigs, who were almost sick for News, and never a considerable
Lye to tell 'em—Oh fie, I shall lose my Reputation
of a States-woman quite at this rate.

Bayes.

Very well, the Chambermaid you see, Sir, keeps
pretty good Company; besides, I thought you might have
found her out by some Matters that are past; why, ye dull
Creatures, 'twas by her means that the Queens knew of the
late Plot, the Priest there is in Love with her, and she manages
his Secrets as she pleases—Ha, ha, ha.

Chant.

And betrays, I suppose, the t'other Boutfeu—What
d'ye call'm, Belrope—Hah!

Bayes.

Ay, Sir, ay—Now ye have it; Ha, ha, ha.

John.

Has it; oh notably the Rogue hunts for a Jest, like
a Ferret in a Coney-borrow; he makes it bolt whether it
will or no.

Discip.

I heartily beg your Ladyship's Pardon, dear Madam;
but I profess there has been a great Scarcity of News lately,
and Invention, I think, freezes too; but however, incouraged
by a Kiss from this fair Hand, I'll tell ye one topping
thing.

Smith.

Sure, Mr. Bayes, this Person looks his part as you'd
have him, for he gives her a very Amorous Oagle, methinks.

[Discip. kisses her Hand.
Bayes.

Ay, Sir, I taught him that, I had it from a Priest
in Flanders; the holy Rogue would look quite through a
Wench, when the Fit was on him; besides, I told ye before,
he was a plaguy Toad.

Flea.

Come, Sir, I wait impatiently.

Discip.

Why, look'e then, dear Lady—you may put it
abroad when you please; that the two inveterate Parties, the
Royalists and the Phizgigs are reconcil'd by the Grandees
of the Bank and Stock-jobbers; and to crown their Amity,
are all to have a great Custard-feast at my Lord Mayor's.

Bayes.

Ha, ha, ha,—pray hear him.

Discip.

In the next place, tell 'em this for great News,
that the whole Body of London Jews, at the Instance of a
Rabbi, who has lately been charm'd, by an Anthem sung
by Monsieur de Sol re, at the Chapel, have unanimously agreed
to build White-hall by the Model of Blenheim Castle;
that the Quakers will provide Painting and Arras Hangings,
who being weary of their former slovenly Garb and Formality,
resolve from henceforth to wear Pantaloons and Ribbons.

Bayes.

Ha, ha ha,—there's News for ye.

Flea.

Thank'e, Sir, this is something; the Devil's in 'em
that won't take this for a well-grown Lye.

Smith.

The Devil's in 'em indeed, why this will cram the
Maw of the Town for at least a Month.

Chant.

Ay, and make a strange buz in the Coffeehouses.

John.

He's mad by these ten Pickers and Stealers, as
Hamlet says.

Bayes.

Shrewd, shrewd, egad. I warrant it flies about
like Lightning; Ha, ha, ha.—Now pray hear her Conclusion
of the Scene.

Flea.

And now, Friend, observe—You shall find that
I have something to inform you—Come, I intend to
closet ye about it; I know you Priests love Closet-work;
you shall know then, that our Politick Ladies have certain
Advice, that their High Mightinesses have generously resolv'd
to give us up our Herring Trade, and lend us all the Money
they got by the late War, taking our Tally Bills
for the Repayment. Come, Oily-fist, come in and you shall
know more.

[Slaps him on the Shoulder.
Discip.

Ay, with all my Heart, sweet Honey-suckle;
ods Sugar-sops—I melt like May Butter; rare, rare News,
and I'll spread it about ifack.

Bayes.

There's a Scene now; there's Politicks and Wit together
for ye.

Smith.

This new Character shews Roguery enough, I
confess.

Chant.

Ay, there's a double entendre in't too, if we could
hit it, hah, Johnson.

John.

Pox, I was listning to the Fiddle; don't disturb me.

[Fiddle within.
Bayes.

Oh—now for the third Entertainment: They're
tuning I find; a Scene of new Variety still, which will be
shewn in another little Masque, explaining the Humours
of the City—Come, first enter Discord, a Figure very well
acquainted there at present, and with him [Enter Discord. and three Figures]
three Figures more, Bigotry, in the Habit
of a Jesuit; Faction in the Garb of a Fanatick; and Stubbornness
drest like a Quaker.

Smith.

I marry, Sir, this gives an Idea of some Diversion
indeed!

Smith.

I warrant ye, Sir—

[Song begins here.
The first Song, in the third Masque, represented in the Figure of Discord drest like a City Stock-jobber.
[Bigotry, Faction and Stubborness appear.
Second Movement.

The next is the Comical Dialogue between Bigotry, dress'd like a Jesuit; Faction, like a Fanatick; and Stubbornness, like a Quaker.
Big.
The stubborn Sons of Alba can't agree,
Or else they sure would ne'er make use of me:
And to promote their Jars I now am come,
To aid 'em like a true-bred Son of Rome:
For so, in spite of all their Laws, I'll be,
As by my shaven Crown, Friends may in private see.

Faction comes up and observes him.
Fact.
Bless me! oh bless me! if my Sight's not gone,
I see a Type o'th' Whore of Babylon.
As I'm a Protestant, 'tis so;
Tho' banish'd, yet they will not go.
He shew'd me his shorn Pate,
But I may profit by the Beast;
I'll go and peach him for a Priest,
So get the Rogue's Estate.

[Is going, and Stubbornness stops him.
Stubb.
Hold, Friend, pray hold—by what I've heard,
Thou want'st a brotherly Regard;
Thy Mind's in some Confusion;
Now plainly, if thou wilt be wise,
I may—Hum—give thee some Advice.
And bring things to Conclusion.

Big.
You may, Sir, as well
Keep Noise from a Bell,
His Soul is compounded of Jargon;
For as bred among Bears,
This Rogue stops his Ears
At the ravishing Sound of an Organ.

Fact.
I must confess that Pagan Tone,
Is worse to me than Bagpipe Drone.
'Tis Popish and I cannot bear it.

Movement changes.
Stubb.
Nay, Friend, thou then can'st err, I see;
For Soundings may harmonious be,
Through Motions of the Spirit.
And when a Sister mounts on high,
And pants and speaks with Ectasy
Then, hum—good lack how sweet's the Voice!

Fact.
When you in Revolution doze,

Big.
And you are canting through the Nose,

Stubb.
Our Babes of Grace rejoice,

Fact.
Our stanch Opinion grounded is on Sense,
We shew nor Miracles, nor Peter Pence.

Big.
Nor do we, when our Nonsense plagues the Town,
Require a buxom Lass to rub us down.

Stubb.
We hate the Wantons that to snare us come,
And in our own Tribe mingle with a Hum.

Big.
Fanatick, leave off your dull Stuff, and your Twang,

Fact.
Sir Priest, if you're sawcy I peach and you hang.

Stubb.
Nay surely you're Vipers of Satan's own Seed,
And should be destroy'd to extirpate the Breed.
I'll cause our Brethren soon to join,
And both your Sects we'll undermine;
We'll vouch you'll root out Monarchy;
For tho' not swear, we all can lye.

Stubb.
I know ye all are Fiends—at grand Hypocrisy.

Big.
The Canters all shall down, but plainly for thy part,
I know thou art for Masses, a Jesuit in thy Heart;
So thou shalt scape the Lash, most of thy Tribe are so.

Stubb.
Plainly thou lyest—ah me, the Spirit moves me now.
We never, we never will put up this Wrong,
The King shall comply, we are Legion and strong.

Fact.
We'll manage the Court till the Jesuit we hang,

Big.
We'll work, like the Mole, 'till the Canter we hang.

Stubb.
We'll mutiny strongly till both of ye hang.

Fact.
The Jesuit shall hang.

Stubb.
The Canter shall hang.

Big.
The Quaker shall hang.

Chorus of all.
We never, we never will put up this Wrong,
The King shall comply, we are Legion and strong,

[They all fall a fighting, and so go off.
Bayes.

There, there, a hay—Oh rare Fanatick, well
done Jesuit, oh rare Quaker—there's Mob Commotion for
ye, there's Hurry and Bustle to the Life—egad.

Discor.

Halloo, halloo, halloo.

[Shouts 'em on.
Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.—

Bayes.

Come, now enter to Discord, Envy and Jealousy,
the one dress'd like an old superannuated Chambermaid, the
other like a supercillious Italian.

[They enter.
Envy
sings.
From gloomy Realms of Night ascending,
And the fatal Lethes Shore,
Thus new Mischiefs still attending,
We are come to aid thy Power;
Envy and dire Jealousy,
With potent Discord ever must agree.

Discord.
Whilst baleful Feuds Mankind annoy,
Hymens Rights too we'll destroy,
Women may count Love a Joy.
Smiling, Crying,
Whining, Lying,
Of another kind am I.
I am sworn Foe to all his Law do's bind,
Marriage from first Creation was design'd,
A Curse intail'd on wretched human Kind.
'Tis noble Discord, generous strife
That gives the truest Taste of Life.
Marriage first made Man fall,
Had I been in the Garden plac'd,
The Woman ne'er had made him taste,
'Twas foolish loving damn'd us all.

Envy.
Let that Humour last for ever,
Discord's Rules to fix endeavour,
Let all Nature have a Fever.

Jealous.
Alba's Court molest with Jarring,
All their Joys and Pleasures marring,
Let there be perpetual Warring.
Or if zealous Pangs are worse,
Vex 'em with that heavy Curse.

Discord.
Let the Elements conspire,
Sea and Air, and Earth and Fire:
Let loud Thunder cleave the Sky,
Let the blasting Lightning fly;
Storms of Hail, and gusts of Rain
Deluge o'er the flowry Plain:
All things in Confusion bring,
To raise new Jars and bloody Wars;
And without Cause, in spite of Laws, join to molest the King.
I am the lofty Power Commands all these,
Imprison'd Winds can from their Bonds release.
And from Æolian Caverns free,
Whenever Mischief's to be done you may be sure of me.

Envy.
And me.

Jealous.
And me.

Discord.
Search both the Globes you ne'er shall find there's such another Three.

Chorus.
Search both the Globes, &c.

Bayes.

Very well; now you shall hear Envy give ye her
own Character.

Envy.
By Fortune cross'd, and Love betray'd,
I liv'd 'till Seventy five a Maid,
And now in Hell have Envy's Place,
Because condemn'd to single State,
When all but I had got a Mate,
It fill'd me with such mortal Hate,
I would have poyson'd all the Race.
Below or here, where-e'er I am,
I study to defame;
To Reputation mortal Foe, but constant Friend to Shame.
I slander all Wit,
And a Face that is sweet,
I wish the Small-Pox, or much rather the Great,
Sword, Fire and Ruin to those that have Wealth,
And a Pest of Blue Plagues upon all that have Health.
The Soldier I wish for his Laurel wore Thorns:
And he that as Life
Loves his beautiful Wife,
Oh! send him, great Pluto, a huge pair of Horns.
I still have a Pang when Contentment I see,
And Merits Reward when 'tis duly prepar'd,
Is a Torment to me, is a Torment to me.

Bayes.

There's Envy for ye—there's a Touch for all old
Maids, egad. Ha, ha, ha. Come now for Jealousy. Hark'e,
a Word by the by; I would fain have persuaded her, you
must know, to fall in Love, or to drink a Gallon of Vinegar
every Day for a Month, as the Jockeys do, to make
her waste and grow hagged, that she might look her part
well; but a Pox on her 'twou'd not do. Ha, ha, ha.

Jealousy
Sings.
From hot Italian Progeny,
A Mixture form'd of Blood and Phlegm,
Of both in the extreme,
Dame Nature first compounded me;
In Pluto's Court I took my first Degree
And Title there of Jealousy,
From my suspicious Nature;
So plagu'd I was with base Mistrust,
And with such vile Opinions curs'd,
I thought my Ruin doom'd by every Creature.
Hence made I Jars in Families,
Disturb'd the Virtuous and the Wise;
Infested oft a happy State,
And rais'd Commotions 'mongst the great;
And when on Earth in Wedlock joyn'd,
I teaz'd to death a Wife, young, chaste, and kind:
Strong Fetters, Bolts and Bars
Could not secure my jealous Fears.
I had a hundred Eyes all gazing round in vain,
A thousand, and ten Thousand Plots and Whimsies in my Brain.
A Thousand, &c.

Envy.
Let's go, let's go, and human Peace destroy.

Jeal.
To trouble all the World will cause our greater Joy.

Discord.
If they Love we'll cause a Jangling,
If they Wed we'll force a Wrangling,
If they Friendship chuse to guard 'em,
Wealth or Women shall divide 'em.

Envy.
If with Politicks infected,

Jeal.
One shall t'other make suspected;

Envy.
And tho' nought appears to wrong 'em,

Discord.
Discord still shall reign among 'em.

[Exeunt Singers.
CHORUS of all.
If with Politicks, &c.

Bayes.

Very well; so now go off, and then enter a
Dance of Professions, and so conclude the Act. Ah—
very well done, egad.

[Dance here.
Smith.

'Tis so indeed—they have acquitted themselves
extremely well.

Chant.

Come—and now for another Dish, the Boy is
there by this time.

Bayes.

With all my Heart—tholl, loll, loll.

[Exeunt.