 | Neglected Virtue : or, the Vnhappy Conquerour |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Bretton, followed by Curio.Curio.
Indeed, my Lord, you are too rugged to her.
Bret.
Pray, Sir, hold your peace.
Cur.
So sweet a Child as she is, such a Mirrour of Beauty.
Bret.
A Mirrour of Folly, is she not?
Cur.
How can you be angry with her? How can any Wind blow
rough upon a Blossom so fair and tender?
Bret.
Look ye, Cousin, all this is but prating; I'll make her
see with my Eyes, hear with my Ears, talk with my Tongue, and
taste with my Pallate: I begot her, bred her, and I will make her.
Cur.
—A Whore, if you marry her against her Inclination.
Bret.
Why, is it not a Man I wish her too? a young Man? a handsom
Man? a rich Man?
Cur.
—And a wise Man?
Bret.
No, no; as for Wisdom, we'll let that alone: Besides, none
but Fools and Madmen marry now a-days, unless here and there a
younger Brother, or a broken Gamester, that ties up with some old
rich Widow, to prop up his falling Fortunes.
Cur.
But, Sir, she is tender yet.
Prythee hold thy Peace—She can endure the Hammer, and
why not the Workman that strikes deepest? She's fourteen, and if she
is not ready now for rutting.—
Cur.
But will you allow no liberty for choosing?
Bret.
Why, I believe the Devil's in the Fellow. Dost thou think,
I that have lived a Courtier to the age of sixty and upward, don't
know better how to choose than a little piss-tal'd Girl, that has not
yet wash'd her Mother's Milk off of her Chaps. But I know the reason
of her Coyness; there's another in the Wind that hovers over
her, a young smock-fac'd Rogue, not worth a Shilling; and yet
she's too young. Cousin, let me tell you, Inclination is a great ripener
of a young female Flower.
See, see, here she comes, with her wanton Instructor: I find I must
rid my House of that Baggage, or there can never be any Peace in
Israel. So, good morrow to you; my, that's as you deserve too:
You know my Mind, therefore let me see you study to deserve it.
Am.
I shall endeavour to obey you. But, noble Sir—
Bret.
Hold your Peace, you little Ferret you, let me have none
of your set Phrases.
Ari.
Ud's life don't be Tongue-tide, Cousin. Hark'ee, you piece of
dry'd Mummy.
Am.
Nay, give him good Language, Cousin.
Ari.
give him Ratsbane. Hark'ee, old Sixty odd, do you with
that Whey Beard think your self at years of discretion to dispose
of a young brisk Maidenhead, a shrivell'd piece of Parchment, sit for
no use but to have his Skin flea'd off, to engross in cheating Mortgages
upon.
Bret.
Tell me, thou eternal Thunderclap, how darest thou talk
thus?
Ar.
Tell me, old Nestor, first, how darest thou do thus?
Bret.
Hussey, get out of my House.
Ari.
I won't; I'll stay to plague you: And if you don't take some
milder Course with your Daughter, I'll watch my opportunity, steal
her out, and set fire to your House; d'ye hear, I shall so singe your
Muzzle, Grandsire Gray beard.
By this Light, I'll have her hang'd.
Ari.
Do, and hang your Daughter too; 'tis ten times better than
marrying her to a piece of Logwood.
'Odso here he comes, new-comb'd and powder'd, like a Prentice upon
a Holy-day.
Bret.
Well, Impudence, he has saved your Bones for this time. Noble
Castilio, good morrow to you.
Cast.
Good morrow my Lord: Good morrow Miss Wife, that
must be.
Ari.
Good morrow, noble Sir.
Cast.
Thank you.
Ari.
How proud am I to see our homely Roof bless'd with the
Rays of such resplendent Beauty. Fortune is sure distributing her
Favours, and sends the greatest to adorn your Servant.
Cast.
Hark'ee, Father that must be, I really believe this young Gentlewoman's
mad: The last time I was here, Fool, Booby, Loggerhead,
Puppy, and such like Names, she thought too good for me;
and now she's all upon the Complement. What the Devil's the
meaning of all this?
Bret.
Sir, you must forgive; she is a little craz'd by Fits. Hussey
be gone, or I'll cane you in.
Ari.
Ah! cruel Sir, will you then drive me from the sight of those
dear Eyes, that lovely Face: Open that precious Mouth, from whence
there falls Wit faster than the Rheum from Nunkles Eyes.
Cast.
Why, Father-in Law, been't you ashamed to stand still, and
hear your Flesh and Blood, that is to be, abused thus?
Bret.
Hark'ee, you Whore in imagination, you well-wisher to the
Trade of Cuckoldom, thou unlawful Destroyer of Maidenheads,
get thee gone presently, or I'll use the so scurvily, that the Punishment
of a duck'd Scold, a pillory'd Cheat, or a carted Bawd, shall
be honourable Punishment to what I'll make thee go through.
Ari.
Well, well, Unkle, I will be gone; but one Word of Advice
before I go. Come hither Cousin, be ruled by me, marry the
Man your Father bids you; cuckold him with every Footboy in the
Languages; make thy self a Mother of Nations.
Use Husband, Father, both like stubborn Knaves;
Obtain thy Freedom, and make them the Slaves.
[Exit.
Cast.
Why, what the Devil has possess'd the Woman?
Bret.
I am struck with astonishment! but 'tis no matter, I'll soon
get rid of her.—Come, Nephew, we'll walk in, and leave the
Lovers together. Worthy Castilio, I wish you good Success with my
Daughter; she's something too young, and that makes her foolish,
but you must bear with that. I'll to Court, and hear what News is
stirring, and whether these Medians design to block us up till we become
Food for one another.
[Exit Bret. and Cur.
Cast.
Well, Miss, you see how Matters are like to go; your Father
designs me for your Mouse-trap of Matrimony. Why dost
not talk to me, Wench, ha? What, not a Word?—Well, it's no
great matter, for if I marry, 'tis not for the sake of the Tongue.
A good Estate, with the Tail tagg'd to it, will do my Business well
enough. Well, but, Miss, when shall we marry?
Am.
When you please, Sir.
Cast.
Why that's well said; I love a Woman that speaks little,
and to the purpose. Look'ee, Miss, you are a Lord's Daughter, and
I am a Lord's Son, you don't love me, nor I don't much care for
you; but what then, there are young Men and Women enow about
the Court, and if we can't among 'em all find some to please us, 'tis
pity but we were condemned to feed on one Dish all our Life
time.
Am.
Won't you be pleas'd to follow my Father, Sir?
Cast.
Why, ay, an' you will, Sweet heart I think there's no great
occasion for talking more, since we're both agreed of the matter.
Who the Devil have we here now! Mrs. Many-minds, and a young
brisk Fellow with her: I'm resolv'd I'll stay; for tho' she be young
enough to be a Whore, she has Malice enough to be a Bawd;
therefore I'll not trust her.
Ari.
How now, Grease and Poville, I thought you had been gone
by this time.
No, Plaister of Paris, I'm here still.
Lyc.
Dear Amadine!
Am.
My dear Lycastes, welcome.
Cast.
Hey day! What's here to do? Heark'ee, Friend, will you
be pleas'd to keep your distance; this Philley is already provided of
a Rider, I can assure you.
Qui dil vox?
Cast.
What the Devil does he say now? D'ye see Sir, in my own
Country Language, I tell you once again, I'm to have the backing
of this Colt; therefore pray go about your business.
Lyc,
Are not you, Sir, Son to the Lord Castilio?
Cast.
Yes, Sir, I am his only Son, his first-born Child, the Prop of
his Family, the staff of his Age, and the Heir to his Estate.
Lyc.
Why then, Sir, I have News to tell you: I came just now
from Court, where I left your Father in an Apoplectick Fit, given
over by his Physicians.
Cast.
How! how! my Father given over! Nay then, Miss, your
humble Servant: Your Affections and mine are not so fast ty'd, but
an Estate will quickly unloose 'em.
[Exit.
Lyc.
I thought there was no way but this to get rid of him. Well,
my dear Amadine, how stands your Father affected?
Am.
He continues his cruel Resolutions still, to marry to that
Coxcomb.
Ari,
And we continue our Resolutions, to make Coxcombs of them
both before it comes to that.
Am.
Nay, for my part, I'll sooner live in a Hovel upon Water
and wild Sallads, than be forc'd to marry against my Inclinations.
Lyc.
My dear, my Fortunes are not so despicable to throw you
on so mean a Remedy. Do you but find a means to decieve
your watchful Guardians, and I'll find means to secure us from
wild Sallads and a Hovel, I'll warrant thee.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Madam, your Father is return'd.
Ari.
Ud'slife, slip you out at the Garden Door.
Farewel, my Jewel, keep constant to thy Resolutions, and
we may both be happy.
[Exit.
Am.
Never doubt me.
Ari.
No, no; let us alone: If we two young Girls can't cozen
one old Fellow, 'tis pity but we were nailed against a Wall with
our Heels upward.
SCENE, The Palace.
Enter King, Memnon, Old Castillio, Guards and Attendants.
King.
Still, Memnon, we withstand their battering Rams,
Still our strong Walls defie the Median Fury,
Against all Dangers still my Breast stands firm.
Mem.
There's Winter, Sir, in all your Parthians Veins,
Nor will the Soldiers be induc'd to Flight,
But basely from your Royal Standard shrink.
King.
Slaves! do they see the threat'ning Flood o'erwhelm
Their Country, and like senceless Brutes, gaze at
The near approaching Deluge till they're lost?
Mem.
Your Citizens, whose Coward Souls ne'er knew
What Valour was, without the Plumes of Fortune,
Seeing you drove within this last result,
Into the narrow Bounds of one poor City;
Disturb their Rest with Dreams of rifled Hoards:
Their own, their Wives, their Sons and Daughters Fates,
And like infected Caitiffs spread their Fears
By their contagious Murmurs through the Streets.
Cast.
Already they have priz'd your Head, and plot
Who shall be first to seize the sacred Prey.
They've told the Stores, the Lordships they shall gain;
And when the Great, the Royal Oak is struck,
There's none but hopes a Branch, beneath whose Shade
Their Revels are design'd; and with one Voice,
Must these Rewards, and their Deliverance bring.
King.
Is Artaban the Minion of their Hearts?
Was not that Traytor, Memnon, justly banish'd?
He by my Influence first to being rose,
And nurtur'd by my warmest Rays grew Great;
Yet all my best Rewards he did contemn,
And scorn'd a meaner Bounty than t'espouse
My only Daughter, and possess my Throne:
Fortune and Fate oppress me as they please,
I never can forgive such Insolence.
Cast.
Sir, Sir, you may yet command what Terms you please,
The great Tigranes only fights for Love;
And wou'd you grant Elinda to his Arms,
He'd quickly lay his conquering Weapons down,
And bend to pay his Homage at your Feet,
A double Vassal, Son and Subject both.
Mem.
If Kings deserve, why may not he deserve her?
Fame loudly speaks the Largeness of his Soul,
How brave in Fields, in Courts how amorous!
Pleasant and Martial, Great, and yet not Proud;
As free from Passion as th'unkindled Fire:
Yet urg'd, can loose his Reins, and let the Beast
Course it a-while to shew he is a Man.
King.
Must it be said 'twas Arms made Phraates grant
Offers; in Peace, he almost scorn'd to hear,
Oh, this reclaims me, this disturbs that Rest,
Which liberal Nature by her Charter gives
To every Peasant on his Bed of Straw.
Cast.
Sir, Success proclaims Men Great.
Tigranes till he conquer'd was not so;
Now who is greater than Tygranes is?
What distant Nations do not dread his Strength?
Even Rome it self, the Empress of the World,
Glad of a Peace, embrac'd him as her Friend.
His Faults to you are meritorious grown,
And in my Judgment purchase this Alliance.
There's no resisting of an adverse Fate,
When wayward Gods contend struggling 'gainst them,
Entangles more, and weaves us in the Toil.
[Shouts, Drums and Trumpets within.
Enter Lysander.
What mean these Shouts?
Lys.
Hail, Gracious Prince, we are at length reliev'd.
King.
Whence? or by whom? it is impossible!
Lys.
The Shades of Night their lowest Ebb had made,
And flowing Light began to swell the Day,
When first our Scouts th'incamped Host descry'd.
All in Disorder, rowz'd from Sleep,—to Arms;
To Arms the general Cry: The distant Parts
Of the wide Wings in Terrours wak'd, in haste
They rose, and trembled 'ere they knew for what,
Undrest, half-arm'd, around their Troops they gaz'd,
Saw dismal Fear, Distraction in each Eye;
Some Wonder-struck, like Statues stood, as if
Gorgonian Charms had petrify'd their Feet:
Others for Flight prepar'd, and all amaz'd,
Whilst still the unintelligible Noise increas'd.
King.
From whence the Cause?
Lycas.
That, Sir, deserves your Ear.
Five hundred Horse led by a valiant Chief,
To their main Body did their Out-Guards press,
Surpriz'd with Thought a greater Strength was near,
The highest parts, did crowd, the next, in Hopes
By Numbers to withstand the Storm, yet this
Did but facilitate his Victory;
For still he forward drove, and still they fled,
Till in the Field the scatter'd Deaths were strew'd
Thick as Autumnal Leaves before the Wind,
Until at last, that mighty Host, which but
Some Hours before our Terrour was, in Flight,
Left us the Field, glad any ways to save
Who now approaches to your joyful Gates.
Kin.
Let's haste to meet him;
And you, my Lords, witness to what I vow,
If our Deliverer be a Man, on whom
My Daughter can her kind Affection place,
To morrow's Sun this Nuptial Rites shall see,
And mix our Joys in that Solemnity.
| Neglected Virtue : or, the Vnhappy Conquerour | |