University of Virginia Library

ACT 2.

SCENE I.

Enter Malignii.
Malig.
He's gon,
And may the plagues of hell persue his steps.
How diligent he is to my undoing?
I have ben all this night as watchfull too
As hee; though from a different cause:
For mine was malice, and a jealous hate,
That tenterhookt my Eye-lid's, when as sleep
Did poize 'em down;
Curse be the Guards that let him forth,
At that dead time of night,
Some trick might else have stay'd his journey,
And may be her's from comming hither;
I shall grow mad to see this Beard-less boy
Out-rival mee, in what I most esteem.
Oh Bell-mont, too cruel, and too fair!
But yet, I will not fall alone;
That minute, Malignii, thy hopes shall leave thee,
Resolve, all bliss and comfort shall leave her,
Unless thy wits with hope shall take their flight.
For I am not that curious Coxcomb Lover,
That suffers patiently, and will admit
He not deserves when she does think unfit.
They that can make me suffer without pitty,
Deserve inflictions from my brains requital.
—I have it,—or if that fail,
Boutefeu's an Engine I can set a-work.
A blunt, conceited fool—
And for his temper—
I'l mannage him, no Chymist with more Art,
And when I please, his worship flies in Fumo.
But first, I'l to my Colonel to move,
All sails is best to catch at fleeting Love.

[Exit.
Enter D'orvile, Charlotte.
D'orv.
You know I never did refuse you ought
Was fitting you should ask, or I should grant;
Nor am I such a jealous fool, Charlotte,
To doubt the strength of your fair Education:
But as it is your duty to obey,
So it is mine to tell you freely now
Wherein and how I do expect it from you.
You know what Guest arrived here last night,
(Whose father was the maker of my fortune)
He's young, and has a presence too too fair,
To trust a Courtship without timely counsel;
I know his aims at you.

Charl.
'Tis more than yet I am acquainted with;
Do you not mean Brisac?

D'orv.
No, no, you know I don't;
Or are you ignorant of visits that concern you?
'Tis Clairmont the young brave General,
Arriv'd here when we were all a-bed.

Charl.
Truly I did not know so much.

D'orv.
Nor had you no suspition of his coming?

Charl.
Why do you ask me, Sir?
Do you suspect secret intelligence
'Twixt him and me? I hope my Honor's fair
In your belief, else truly I am wrong'd.

D'orv.
It is, my dearest Girl;
Nor is it an opinion of thy weakness
That draws this counsel from me,
But tender care my love does owe thy youth,
And as a father I do owe my child.

Charl.
Proceed, dear Sir,
And from me expect a full obedience.

D'orv.
Know then, (Charlotte) a Maid with beauty stor'd,
Ought to be Mistris of much care and wit,
Not to esteem the Treasure of a face
Or body, more than of a fairer mind.
I counsel no neglect of them; but still
With equal labour strive to gain the Prize
Of Beauty's Lawrel, and of being wise;
Or else your sob'rest Looks will still provoke,
And what you meant for Chast be constru'd Love;
Till you have got repute of all the world
That you are virtuous, as they think you fair:
Then like a Beauteous Field of Corn you'l show,
Which none may reap, though all admire and wish,
Till the right Owner calls this Harvest home.
Nor Love consents that Beauty's Field lie waste,
Weed out all Vice, and plant fair Virtue there;
Of all, be warie of an easie Faith,
A root that quite destroys a Virtuous mind;
The bitter seed is Candy'd with sweet words,
Which when the Sugar's melted all away,
Does shoot up into infamy and ruine;
For though that Nature made you to be won,
Yield not till by a fair approach your ta'n.
D'ye understand me what I mean by this?

Charl.
I shall do, Sir, by that time you have ended.

D'orv.
In short, I'd have you know
In fewer words; without all Parables,
I am not ignorant why Clairmont comes hither,
And though he does pretend a weariness
Of business, and the crowding of a Court,
'Tis to see you he comes, and so he'l tell you;
Thus far I know: but whether ill or well
He means in his addresses, you'l best learn—
In fine, your Honor now (which still is mine)
Depends upon upon the trial of your virtue,
And if your beauty could attract his eyes,
Your virtue try'd will tie 'em constant to you.

Charl.
All these have been the Lessons of my Mother,
And I may hope that I am perfect in 'em.

D'orv.
I hope so too, Charlotte; and so I leave you,
For I do hear Clairmont's already up.
[Exit D'orv.

Charl.
What wondrous pains our Parents seem to take?
Who though they gave us Natures, cannot frame
What they themselves have made, obedient to them.
I thank my Stars, mine is not so deprav'd,
That I need blush the owning of its passions.
But why my Soul, Image of Heavenly Good,
Should stoop to Earth, and hearken to the World,
And the base Cries of wordly interest;
None but a father's care can reason give:
For I'm too young and innocent to know
Trichs of dissembling and forc'd piety.
Clairmont's a worthy man, I must confess,
And one, whose Love were too much honor for me;
Nor could I just exceptions ever find
Against his person; yet, to speak the truth,
I never yet could find my self inclin'd
To love his Person or his glorious Mind;
Esteem as much as ever I could give,
He still receiv'd from me as reverence due.
But whither art thou fled, my innocence?
I grow too knowing; can distinctions make
Beyond my Lessons, 'twixt Esteem and Love;
Do know their different Concords on the mind,
And can distinguish either's harmony.
For shame, Charlotte, be silent in thy fault:
Ha! I hope I have committed none as yet,
Nor do I think I ever shall:
I love, 'tis true: but thousand Deaths I'l die
Ere I betray my frailty to the Man,
He ne'r shall brag one look hath conquer'd me;
For though my Love be Virtuous, yet so soon
To be o're-come will argue Easiness;
Alas! why should it though? must it be time
Should conquer more than sympathy of mind?
Great god of Love, pitty a Virgins fate,
And if I must be wounded by thy hand,
Spare not the Instrument that caus'd my harm,
If he be wounded too I shall not mourn.
Lord! how I talk? but Womens hearts oppress'd,
Will breathe their secrets to the careless Air,
Rather than silence keep: Great god of Love,
Once more I beg that thou my Patron prove.

[Exit.
Enter Collignii, Cortaux.
Coll.
O Lord, Sir! d'yee think I know not what I do?

Cort.
Before heaven, I'l break thy head,
If thou but attempt it.

Colig.
That's a good one i'faith;
I know you do but try my Civility,
And whether I can be peremptory in good manners;
In fine, I am resolute, and so much for that.

Cort.
Well, and so much for that too.

[Beats him.
Colig.
Nay, now I am resolv'd,
Nor shall thy Fate, O Rome—

Cor.
Will ye, will ye, Sirrha?
Curse on thy folly, it will be my shame.

Colig.
I'm sure yours will be my shame,
Nay, a shame to our whole Family.
Not requite Obligations?
Ingratitude's a black Sin.

Cort.
But why in the open day?

Colig.
Because they shall know 'twas I did it.

Cort.
They'l take thee for a Fidler,
And think thou com'st to give them their welcome
To th'Town.

Col.
P'heu! I'l warrant ye, why do I look
Like a Fidler? ha, ha, ha!—

Enter Mariane, Francibel.
Cort.
Here's your Sisters,
Ask 'em if if it were fit.

Col.
What? am not I as wise as they?
Though they be of our counsel for the hemming of your
Bands and Cuffs, I hope I know what belongs to
Gallantry (as they call't.)

Mar.
Indeed you are a prime Gallant.

Fran.
Yes faith, ask the Woman of the Tennis-Court else,
Who beat you for filching of her Balls to play
At Bouls on Holidays.

Mar.
For Stew'd-prunes and Ginger-bread.

Col.
Out, Puss—

Cort.
Nay, nay, I think they'l tell you your own.

Mar.
Pray, Sir, what trim thing would he do now?

Cort.
S'death, he would carry the Fidlers to give
The Gentlemen that were at your window last night
A Serenade at Noon-day.

Fran.
Cokes him, Pugg—

Col.
Baggages, I would so thrum your Jackets,
If it were not for my father,
I should make you more mannerly.

Mar.
Away, Gull—

Cort.
Nay, nay, too much of one thing's good for nothing.

Col.
I will have Musick for the Gentlemen,
As far as this can go; and that you shall see too,
And so be with ye.
[Exit Col.

Mar.
Nay, pray stay, Sir, let him have his humor.

Cort.
Pox on's humors, my Purse will be the lighter
For his humors.
[Exit Cortaux.

Franc.
Not lighter than his head, I'l warrant ye.

Mar.
I find my father's consideration in this business
Proceeds from the Purse, more than from any folly
He conceives in the Action.

Fran.
Truly, Sister, I am much of your opinion.
But do'st think the Blades will come to visit us to day?

Mar.

I'l warrant you; prethee let's in, we are not half in order
to recive them.

Exeunt Ambo.
Enter General and La-Barr.
Clair.
How careful are we in a trifling dress,
As if our clothes put stops unto the mind,
And fram'd the harmony of our Mistress thoughts?

Lab.
It argues cleanly curiosity,
A thing that draws the subtilest Lady's eyes
To an attention of the person.

Clair.
But do'st thou like this dress?—
I am so little us'd to care how 'tis,
I know not when I'm well;
I us'd to take my Tailors word,
But now I am growing mighty scrupulous.
Prethee survey me well,
How is my hair here; I'l wear no Cloak,
A Sword and Belt alone does better.

Lab.
A good shape still thinks it warm.

Clair.
How can I chuse when I am all on fire?
Oh! how I long to see my fair Charlotte!

Lab.
But have you quite forgot your fair Bellmont?

Clair.
Thou know'st she never would be kind;
Would'st have me dost for ever without hopes?
Beside, I like her not so well as this.

Lab.
Yet if I might but freely speak my thougths—

Clair.
Prethee do.

Lab.
I think her beautiful as any one.

Clair.
I thought so too once,
But the wis coy, pestilent coy.

Lab.
'Tis true, there was something in the wind,
More than I understood: she would have hearken'd else.
Here comes her Brother, Sir.

Enter Brisac, D'elpeche, Lamarch, Boutefeu, salute Clairmont severally.
Clair.
Have you been well quarter'd, Gentlemen?
It was my chiefest care you should be so.

Bris.
Extremely well, Sir, we humbly thank you.

Clair.
Well, what news? how d'ye mean to pass this Winter?

Bris.
We little hop'd to have had the happiness,
That your fair presence brings unto the place.

Clair.
What can there be more pleasant to the mind,
Than sharing mirth, with those have shar'd in danger?
We will be merry, Gentlemen, shall we not?
Are the Players good that are in Town?
Monsieur D'elpeche, you know, you are a Virtuoso.

D'el.
They say themselves they will do wonders for us,
I never saw 'em Act.

Bris.
I think the self same Band was once at Orleans.

Bout.
The same, Sir, had the great mischance.

Clair.
What was it, prethee?

Bout.
Acting Orpheus descent into Hell,
Their Fire-works set a fire on the Stage,
Which burnt some part o'th' Town.

Clair.
The Town then shar'd in their misfortune.

Bout.
Most certain, Sir.

Clair.
But, Colonel, what Ladies are in Town?
You are a neighbour born unto this place.

Bris.
But 'tis long since I have frequented it;
The fair Rosella I do hear is dead,
Mar i'd to an old Miser broke her heart with grief.

Clair.
Was she so handsome as her fame did speak?

Bris.
When I was here last,
I did not study much what Beauty was,
But yet, me-thought, I was much pleas'd to see her.

Clair.
But don't you now observe with stricter eyes
A Lady's feature?

Bris.
Troth, Sir, me-thinks I do begin;
Nay, I have seen a Lady in this Town
Not much unlike her.

Clair.
Prethee who is't?

Bris.
Sir, that were to disclose my inclinations,
For I extremely like and that's a kin to Love.

Clair.
And sha'n't I be your confident?
I'l be very secret.

Bris.
When I begin to love indeed,
Perchance I then will tell you:
But yet the secret is not worth your hearing.

Clair.
I'l take your word till then.

Bris.
But may I dare to hope
You'l be as free with me?
For you of later years
Have much frequented Tours,
'Tis sure for something.

Clair.
I know not whether it be safe or no
To trust young men, like you, with my Love secrets.

Bris.
Most safely, Sir.
A man like you needs never fear a Rival,
Especially of me.

Clair.
I shall be glad to hold you still my friend.

Bris.
And I much honor'd in that Title, Sir.

Enter D'orville.
Clair.
Governor, your humblest Servant,
I hope you have excus'd my last nights trouble.

D'or.
You know not, Sir, with what great zeal
I still shall court the honor of your presence.

Clair.
I know your goodness, Sir, is infinite,
So is my will to show how much I love you.

D'or.
I then need envy no man.
But will you please to see the Works this morning,
There are some things are lately finish'd
Do add much strength to this fair place.

Clair.
With all my heart. Come, I'l go see the Works;
These are the off-spring of a Soldiers Brain,
Which if they perfect prove, do serve to keep
And cherish him in's Age from pressing foes;
They're children left to th'Parish to maintain,
And we the bold Parishioners must do it:

[Exeunt omnes.
Enter Beaupres, and Bellmont, Luyson, Boy, as from Travaling.
Beau.
Let the Coach he led about by the Bridge,
VVee here can pass the River with a boat,
An land at the Garden dote.

Boy.
VVe shall Sir.

Beau.
Now, fairest Bellmont, is the Minute come,
In which your heav'nly charity must grant
All that I e're can wish for in this VVorld,
Or render me the most unhappy in it;
Oh speak my Bellmont, are you so resolv'd?

Bellm.
VVhy Sir? do you think my mind so soon can alter?
You know I promis'd to fulfill your will.

Beau.
No certainly, I cannot fear that ill.
But fairest, if your eras were ever Charm'd
With the harmonious sound of one sweet Strain,
Would you not wish to hear it play'd agen?
How willingly we hear of joyes are past?
But how much more of those we are to tast?
The Fryer will attend us in this walk;
I wonder he appears not yet,
The hour's past I did appoint our coming.

Bellm.
But pray, Sir, give me leave to ask a question:
And answer me without dissimulation.

Beau.
As to my Ghostly-father were I dying.

Bellm.
I know there are not greater friends on earth
Than you, dear Sir, and my dear brother are;
Why do you not impart this business to him?

Beau.
I'l tell you.

Bellm.
Stay: do you think he doth suspect nothing?

Beau.
Truly I think he do's not.

Bellm.
Pray Sir, then answer what I first did ask.

Beau.
That I am honoured with his kindest Love,
I really believe, And that's one reason why I'm silent to him.

Bellm.
That now I do not understand.

Beau.
That he do's Love me, as I said before,
I think most certain; so the reason is
Of all men's perfect love to one another
A great opinion they are belov'd too;
But did he know the passion I have for you,
He then might doubt my friendship perfectness,
And think it joyn'd with ends upon
His goodness to me; and my love to you.
Bred but profession of a love to him.
This, Time I judge could cure him off,
But yet, the doubt I know at first will breed
A coldness in him; and that coldness shake
Poor me into such Mortal apprehensions,
As it would pitty you to see it.
That he believes I love you, I don't question,
And shall do dayly more, when you are mine,
For I would have the knowledg grow upon him.
Besides, since that wee firmly have resolv'd that nought
Shall hinder the Uniting of our hearts,
Let's strive to meet our bliss the nearest way;
And let dull Travelers pursue the Road.

Bellem.
If it be bliss to make you master of
A thing I fear's not worth your so great joy,
Know, all that pleases you, brings such content
Unto my mind, that I shall study still,
Out of self interest, how to please you most.
Here, Sir, can this hand by a proxy wed
It's heart to yours, for that was given first.

Beau.
And I most blest in this delivery:
But I will now be base as Tradsmen are,
Not trust, without the bond be sign'd, and seal'd;
'Tis all my wealth, of which I'm Covetous.
Enter Fryer.
Here's one can draw it up for ever sure;
Welcome most honored Sir.

Fryer.
All happiness attend you Son;
And to this Lady what my prayers can gain.
I did not think you would be here before me.

Beau.
We're making haste unto our haven Sir,
And you'r the Pilot that we did attend.

Fryer.
I know fair Lady you'r acquainted with
The purpose that my Son did mention to me?

Bellm:
I hope a blush will be unnecessary
In actions you allow.
Reverent Sir, I am,
And crave your help as earnestly as he.

Fryer.
Where mutual hearts express the same consent,
Heavens blessings give,
As to the proper Emblem of the Church,
And my all your's be doubl'd on your heads.

Beau.
Thanks kindest father.

Bellm.
Thanks most Reverent Sir.

Fryer.
Come, follow me, where I will make you One,
Till death do's cancel what you promise now:
And may you still hereafter bless the minute.

Exeunt.
Enter Lamarch, Boutefeu, hanging about D'elpeche.
Lama.
Come, come, prethee D'elpeche be not so nice,
I tell thee thou shalt chuse,
And one will serve us both.

D'elpe.
On that condition, Gentlemen, I am for you.

Bout.
Why, I'm content, I swear I'l break no covenants.

D'elpe.
Boutefeu, have you your speech ready?
You mention'd one last night.

Bout.
Yes that I have, pox' do you think I cannot talk
as finely as you, with your Metaphors and tricks?

Lama.
Yes that a can, for all a looks so.
Well Mounsieur we shall hear what sport you'l make,
For I am your Rival.

Bout.
I but Mounsieur, I would scarce advise you
To make sport with me before our Mistris:
D'ye mark that Sir?

Lamar.
Most lovingly I do intend to deal;
What shall we be? Centaurs, or Lapithes?
Quarrel about a Wench? no Pilades,
I thy Orestes will be still thy friend,
And yet thy Rival in affection Bully.

Bout.
Hey toss, hard words, that I forbid in our bargain;
I'l snatch away the Wench, if you begin to talk so there; 'sdeath
I shall be bought, and sold, and not know what they mean; no,
no, I'l have none of that, heer's D'elpeche can talk hard words
enough for u's all.

D'elpe.
I Sir, but I shan't steer your course,
I'l leave you to the storms of loud Laughter.

Lama.

Wee'll begin with you, ha, ha, ha,—see who'l fare
best you or wee.

Bout.
I, I, then let e'm laugh that winn;
Two against one is odds at foot-ball.

Lama.
Oh I could bite thy lips off for that;
Nay, nay, the tyde comes in, for Wit begins to flow;
Knock, knock, D'elpeche, here is the house.

D'elpe.
Nay the door is open, enter Gentlemen, 'tis
My Lodging.

Exeunt.
And Enter again D'elpeche, leading Mariane, Lamarch and Boutefeu, Francibell.
Franc.
'Tis too much honour Gentlemen;
And I'm too much acquainted with my self,
Ever to hope that I can please you both.

Bout.
P'heu, never fear that, Lady:
If you will, I know you can do more than that do's come to.

Franc.
As how good Sir?

Bout.
Nay, Souldiers never give an Explication of that they say or doe.

Lama.
They may Sir, to their Mistris,
Without the forfeit of their reputation.

Bout.
But what if they wo'n't Sir?

Lama.
Then they may chuse Sir.

Franc.
Most certain Sir, this Gentleman speaks truth.

Bout.
Why then I think yee both are answer'd;
But, Lady, as I was about to tell yee,
I love most passionatly when I do begin.

Lama.
And I began, the minute that I saw you.

Bout.
But that's soul play to end a speech that I
Began.

Lama.
Why Sir? I have not made an end yet.

Bout.
Prethee then do, and leave us to our selves,
Or go and help D'elpeche, he's out of breath.

D'el.
'Tis then with laughing to see your fine dispute.
Ha, ha, ha—

Mar.
Ha, ha, ha, Sister, Sister, ware Guns, y'are besieg'd.

Franc.
Look you to your own affairs, I'm well mann'd,
And can resist the fiercest storm.

Bout.
Well said, you need fear no Attacks
As long as we are with you.

D'el.
Why, Sir, 'tis from you she fears them most,
And from your friend; See, he has tane in
Her hand already.

Lama is kissing her hand.
Bout.
Troth now I think I'm even with him.

Bout. kisses th'other.
D'elp.
That thou art, keep still to that, Boy.
See, fairest Mistris, how happy those men are
That venture boldly on,
And fear not the mortal Canon of a frown.

Mar.
But you more cunningly approach the Fort,
And hope to undermine it ere expected.

D'el.
Kisses her hand
Not I, by this fair hand.

Mar.
You might have spar'd the Oath, yet been believ'd.

D'el.
No, I will rather swear again, than want credit.
By this fair hand, the Emblem of your mind,
Again.
I love you much, yet is my love as pure
As the white Snow this so resembles.
You are too young and innocent to frame
A Rebel thought, were I made up of ill—

Mar.
But, good Sir, swear no more, I will believe you,
And if you'r wife you will believe your self.

D'el.
I will do anything that you will have me.

Mar.
Pray then let's mark how they behave themselves.

Fran.
So have I seen a Dam'sel lead to Church,
But by rich proper men I ne'r saw any.
Why, Gentlemen, I have use for one hand,
Pray let that go.

Lam.
I do, Boutefeu, prethee let her hand go.

Bout.
Not I, by Heaven, why don't you, Sir?

Fran.
Fie, Gentlemen, Lord how it tickles.

Lam.
Why does, Madam?

Fran.
Why my lip, a flie bit it just now.

Bout.
That's but an excuse.

Franc.
Sir, may be I've a mind to blow my nose.

Bout.
I'l do't for you with my other hand.

Lam.
Nay, rather Madam, I will quit my hold.

Bout.
And I'l not be behind-hand in civility.

Franc.
I thank ye, Gentlemen, but you, Sir, first,
For you did show the way.

Bout.
Well, but I let go too.

Franc.
You did so, Sir, and I thank'd you too.

D'el.
Did you ever see such Courtship?

Mar.
Not I truly, Sir; for pitty let's relieve her.

D'el.
Well, Gentlemen, how are yee with your fair
Mistris?

Lam.
Troth like beginners, how are you there?

Bout.
Sure that very young Lady is not so brisk
In her Answers.

D'el.
We have beaten a Parly, or rather Truce
For some time, for we have left Parlying;
But fairest Mariane, will you but bless
Our ears with one sweet Ayr.

Mar.
My Sister, Sir, sings much better.

Fran.
Nay fie, Sister, now I must say
You shall sing, you should else have wanted
My intreaty; jeer me before company?
You know I never could, nor would sing.

D'el.
I hope her authority and my prayers may be Successful.

Mar.
I will not long be intreated,
For then you will expect much more
Than what you're like to hear from me.

Franc.
Sister, prethee sing When Celadon gave up his heart.

Mar.
SONG.

D'elpe.
And I will be that Lover Lady;
For I protest I hate the vice extremely:
The fear of theeves is worse than the loss we can
Sustain by them: w'ere still a being rob'd.

Franc.
Right Sir, As the Coward who fears death
Dyes ten thousand times.

Lamar.

That Coward am I Lady, as often as I cast mine
Eyes upon your face, my heart's at my Mouth, and wants but
your kind acceptance to be rid of me.

Bout.

Or you of it; for a Cowardly heart is not worth the
keeping.

Lama.

Sir, I may make bold with my self, though I could
wish you would not.

Franc.

Fy, fy, Gentlemen, come give me your hands again,
Sister prethee one Song A la Ronde.

Mari.

Fy, how I'm out of breath?

Fran.

Faith so am I too, pray let's go in and take the Ayr
of the garden.

Lama.
Come Madam.

Bout.
Nay Sir, take t'other hand, this was mine before.

Lama.
Very good Sir, go D'elpeche we'l follow.
Pulls Bout. by the bels as he leads in Francibel.
I would speak with you, leave e'm.

[softly.
Enter again with Boutefu.
Lama.

How comes it Sir, that in a pastime you dare do
base injuries? does your brutality not let you know how you
should use your friends?

Bout.

Brutality! ha! thou art a Brute to say so, draw.

Lama.

This way a little, there we may be spy'd.

Enter Colignii with Fidlers.
Colig.

God's my life here they are! how luckily too! and
hard by our house! play Gentlemen, play.

The Fidlers strike up.
Bout.
What the Devil's this? some come to jeer us?

Colig.
Why Gentlemen, what do yee mean?
Beats the Fidlers.
Is this for my Civility?

Lama.

What Civility thou Asse? prethee begon, and quickly
too.

Colig.

So I will, that I will, if you'l put up your Swords; why
d'ye draw your Swords upon me? I'm sure I meant no harm in't,
but to make you merry.

Enter D'elpeche.
D'el.
Why, how now, Gentlemen, what's the matter?
Swords drawn? fie, 'tis childish thus 'mongst friends.

Col.
O brave, here's our Guest, nay, now I care not,
He'l not see me wrong'd.

VVhy Sir, I came purely to requite the obligation ye all did
my Sisters last night, and truly seeing them two, I thought you
had been in the company too, and so I bad the Musique play,
but, Lord, had you seen how that tall Gentleman kick'd 'em,
and how angry this same Gentleman was with me; why, pray,
Captain, what hurt was there in this? I'm sure I meant them no
more hurt than my own soul.

D'el.
Go you home, the Gentlemen are much in drink,
But I'l appease 'em for you, and we'l be all
Friends, and drink together.

Col.
Marry, I thought there was something in the matter.
Pox on their drink, they frighted me Plaguily;
God b'you, noble Captain.

[Exit.
D'el.
Fie, Lamarch, are you not asham'd, and
You, Boutefeu, Friends and Cam'rades to quarrel
For a Flie, a Nothing?

Bout.
A question'd me with scurvy terms.

Lam.
You us'd me scurvily, I'm sure, Sir.

Bou.
Pox! I meant no harm in't,
And had ye ask't me civilly, I had told ye so.

D'el.
Away with your Punctilioes,
They're pretty things to use to others, but 'mongst
Our selves, 'tis madness; come, let's see ye fight, O ye' are
Brave Fellows, why don't ye begin? the Montalto, the
Reverso, the Stoccado, the hey, courage Blades.

Bout.
Hang your self, D'elpeche.

Lam.

Before George, we'l trie these tricks upon thee, if
thou be'st not quiet, and two to one, you know, Boutefeu said
was odds.

D'el.

Come, ye two fools, I'l ha' this fool that was here just
now, make you two Fools Friends.

[Exeunt.
Enter Clairmont, Brisac, Charlotte, La-bar, Attendants.
Clair.
Madam, it is a sin beyond a pardon,
But that your father easily cannot err,
In the opinion of the world,
To Cloister up a Beauty of such worth,
Fitter for Courts and Princes to admire.
Is it not true, Brisac? Why art thou melancholy?

Char.
I cann't believe that he's of your opinion.

Bris.
What was it, Madam, that he said?
For, Sir, my thoughts were bent so strong,
They took away the sense of all my hearing.

Clair.
Why, I was blaming of her Father much,
To bless this onely Town with his fair daughter,
And render all that's France besides unhappy
In the privation of her fairest presence.

Bris.
I do not doubt she'd be the fairest light
In any Hemisphere she pleas'd to shine in,
But she can find many Adorers here,
And not like Prophets, lose her light at home.

Clair.
But Heav'n would have us all admire its work,
As all should this the fairest it e'r made.

Bris.
Consider then how many Hereticks
This glorious contemplation must needs make,
For many would ne'r think how Heav'n made her,
But think her Heav'n her self.

Charl.
I'm glad I can so aptly prove
A subject for your mirth or wit.

Clair.
Madam, such subjects as you are,
I must confess, do heighten wit,
For they do rarifie by purest flames
The dullest Lovers thoughts and heart.

Bris.
Such subjects, Madam, make all subject to 'em.

Char.
So, Gentlemen, how long can this stile last?

Bris.
As long as we find such fair matter for't,
Which being Infinite in you, may prove Eternal.

Enter Beaupres, Bellmont, Luison.
Clair.
Brisac, your Sister.

Bris.
Beaupres welcome, welcome dear Sister.
[They all salute.
Friend have you seen the General yet?

Beau.
I should be proud you would present me to him.

Bris.
One that begs the title of your Servant.

Clair.
I'm his, I do asure you Sir;
For I'm acquainted with his worth already.

Beau.
You honor me too much Sir.

Bris.
Sister, I'l make you happy,
In bringing you acquainted with a Lady,
In whose fair conversation all that's good
Is to be learn'd.

Bellm.
A Loving Brother I have ever found you;
But in this most kind.

Char.
To me his obligation is so great,
That I must stil remain his thankfull debter.

Clair.
Labarr, how am I here confounded!
[aside.
I cannot see 'em both together.
I'm sorry that some bus'nes calls me hence;
Your Servant Ladies; Gentlemen, I'm yours.
[Ex. Clair.

Bris.
What made him go away so soon?
He mention'd no such haste when he came hither.

Bellm.
I guess the Cause.

Beau.
Peace dear Bellmont.

[softly.
Bris.
What is it Sister?

Bellm.
Some business with the Governor, what should it be else?

Char.
I, I; but Madam, are you not extremely weary?

Bellm.
I never can, when I'm so near you Madam.

Bris.
You see the Sister speaks the Brothers thoughts.

Char.
So fair a mouth as hers will ne'r want credit.
But come fair Sister, let me call ye so;
Ye see how rude ambitious Love does make me,
Let me conduct you to refresh your self.

Exeunt.
Enter Malignii.
Malig.
Hem, Beaupres, hem, I'd speak with you alone.

Beau.
I'l return immediatly.

Malig.
I wish thou wouldst to thy first nothing.
Thou'rt young and stout,
And if I can but fier thee—
Enter Beaupres.
Oh you'r welcome Sir, you brought the Lady I see.

Beau.
The Lady, Sir, I went for I have brought.

Malig.
Yee have don well,
For people of his quality ought not
To stay a Minute for their Mistrisses.
You have made haste, and us'd much diligence.

Beau.
What Quality d'ye mean?
What Mistrisses?

Malig.
Why, did not she tel you who she came to see?
But may be now her mind is altered;
For Women are most Fickle.

Beau.
Malignii, sure thou dream'st,
Or art distemper'd much with Wine;
VVhat is't thou talk'st off?

Malig.
The fair Bellmont,
Clairmont's mistris, she whom Brisac sent thee for.

Beau.
Oh! is that the business?
VVhy I can assure you Clairmont was not thought off,
VVhen he desir'd me to go.

Malig.
Nor she did not think to meet him here?

Beau.
Not that I know of.

Malig.
Certainly then you are not very intimate with her.

Beau.
Not much, nor don't pretend to't.

Malig.
Nay, Boutefue told me so, ye have my Author:
But I was vext to see you sent Ambassador,
And Ignorant of what was in the Commission.

Beau.
How came Boutefeu acquainted with this secret?

Malig.
Pheu he know's more than that,
There's nothing that she ever hideth from him.

Beau.
A Horse, a fool!

Malig.
Does the VVorme bite?
[softly.
Faith Sir, these horse Fools somtimes do take a Lady
More than a spruce witty Courtier,
Every one of them have a humor.

Beau.
But I mistake hers much, if hers be so.

Mal.
I do not say it is—
I hope you don't think I had such a meaning.

Beau.
I ne'r interpret any man:
But what's your business with me?

Mal.
I'm coming to't;
I know you love my Colonel,
And out of that same knowledge I must tell
You, what does now most narrowly concern him.
This fickle General loves Charlotte too:
But let not your rash youth attempt a thing,
In emulation of a friendship, not fitting for you,
Then you take a work out of my hands
I have ambition too: I but crave your counsel.
S'death, a shall answer for't: Fool Bellmont,
And my dear Colonel, 'tis too much,
Nor shall that sawcy fool, Boutefeu,
Dare more in this to do her right than I.
I think you love her, Brother, too so much,
You would not see another take his quarrel,
VVould ye?

Beau.
Pray go on, Sir.

Mal.
Why look you, thus I have contriv'd,
Boutefeu shall brave Clairmont at every turn,
VVho'l ne'r indure it.
Boutefeu is brave, you know, and th'other is
A powerful Enemy:
So these two fall by one another's hands,
And you and I may laugh at either's folly.

Beau.
The fame these things may breed unto Bellmont
Will certainly be great; but how good—

Mal.
Who's in fault?
Why deals she with so many?

Beau.
Peace, Bandog, peace,
Draws.
Or by Heaven I'l send thy Soul
To its own Mansion, Hell.

Mal.
Why what's the matter, Sir?

Beau.
I'l tell thee, Malignii, I ne'r could love thee,
Nor do I think I ever shall do much;
Thy conversation is most irksome to me.

Mal.
But you shall find how much unjust you are;
Here, kill me, why don't you thrust?
[Opens his breast.
I'l die the Martyr unto Truth and Honor.

Beau.
How's that, thou Devil?

Mal.
Since that my friendship to your hopeful youth
Has drawn me to this zealous folly,
I ought to suffer for't;
Hereafter you may live in ignorance:
And since you will not grant me for your friend,
At least grant my intentions friendly were,
Or I dare draw my Sword to justifie't.

[Draws too.
Beau.
If they unfriendly were to fair Bellmont,
They were unjust to all that is of honor.

Mal.
Hold, Beaupres; so may my Soul be blest
As I do honor her as much as you,
And this not fear, but truth exacteth from me.

Beau.
God b'you, Sir,
I am sorry thou could'st talk me to such passion.

[Exit.
Mal.
So, this is so plain,
There needeth no Perspective-glass, I think,
To let me see that he does love Bellmont;
And though he seems such Master of his Temper,
Yet if he be a man of flesh and blood,
These things must buz in's head;
And I'l take care Brisac shall understand
A bussel which must needs defame his Sister.
I care not if Clairmont or Boutefeu
Do perish in his wildness, he must follow.
Like Ship-wrack'd men catch at the floating board
Another's fasten'd on, and shove him off;
So in the Tempest of despis'd Love,
We shove all Rivals to eternal loss.
Then blame not perjury in such a case,
We may do all to gain a Rivals place.

Enter Brisac, Bellmont.
Bris.
Do you not wonder I have stole you thus
Unto a privacie, and disturb'd your rest?

Bell.
If there lie ought within my service for you,
Rest is unfit till I have done that duty.

Bris.
Hey ho!

Bell.
Why sigh you, Sir?

Bris.
Ah, Sister! pitty the Passion of almighty Love!

Bell.
What means my dearest Brother?
You do not speak to me, your thoughts are
Some-where else.

Bris.
But I to you must utter all those thoughts,
For you are onely fit to ease them now;
Would you do much, Bellmont, to ease your Brother?

Bell.
All that a Brother ever could expect
From one that does most dearly love him.

Bris.
Sister, I am undone,
My heart is conquer'd, and I know not well
What mercy to expect from her has won it.

Bell.
But how can I express my service in't?

Bris.
Oh much, fair Sister,
Very much you may:
She'l hear you speak without an interruption,
And much ought to be said
Where I do love so much.

Bell.
I'l say all what you'l have me: but to whom?

Bris.
And can you well describe my passion, Sister?
For I would have the Copy that you draw
Come very near the sad Original:
Paint forth each sigh and doubtful groan I give,
The wound that every look imprinteth here,
The mighty storm is rais'd by groundless hope,
And the sad shipwrack that despair will bring:
The mighty mercy in a promis'd bliss
Will make me ever happy, 'bove my merit,
And all this joyn'd with your sweet Rhetorick,
(For Women will hear all that Women say)
Implore reward for one who, 'gainst his will
Is now become a slave unto her beauty,
Which is, you know, unjust, and yet I crave it,
And without which I die, reward had been
More due, if I 'ad will'd the thraldome not foreseen.

Bellm.
Yet, Sir, I'm ignorant
Before what Judge I am to plead your Cause.

Bris.
And I had quite forgot to tell ye,
Or may be I am grown so covetous of her,
That I am loath to give her name to th'air.
But, Sister, can't you guess who 'tis I mean?
If that a born-blind man recover'd sight,
And heard me tell him that the glorious Sun
Was th'onely object which should dazzle him
Above all other,
He'd wink, and point unto that glittering Star,
And by approved reason say, 'Tis that:
Prethee, dear Sister, guess.

Bellm.
Is it not my new acquaintance, the fair Charlotte?

Bris.
Oh 'tis! the fairest that I ever saw.

Bell.
Brother, relie on me,
If I do fail to do you service,
It shall be want of power, not of will.

Bris.
Thou best of Sisters! ever call me slave
To all thy Virtues, if thou do'st but this.

Bell.
Sir, I dare promise nought, I'l do my best.

[Exit.
Bris.
So does the Merchant that in one rich fraight
Ventures his whole Estate, expect return,
Sails in his mind o'r waves as troublesome
As his fair Ship doth in the greatest storm,
Which if it scape, returning richly home,
He fearless is of storms in time to come.

[Exit.