 | The City-Ramble : or, A Play-house Wedding |  |
Val.
“We are now near home, and whilst our Horses are
“Walk'd down the Hill, this foot-way is more pleasant,
“'Tis a Time, pretty One, not to be wept away,
“For every living thing is full of Love:
“Art not thou so too? Ha!
Viol.
“Nay, there are living things insensible of Love,
“Or I had not been here: But for my self,
“Alas! I have too much.
Val.
“It cannot be
“That so much Beauty, so much Youth and Grace
“Should have too much of Love.
Viol.
“Pray what is Love?
“For I am full of that I do not know.
Val.
“Why Love, fair Maid, is an extreme Desire
“That's not to be examin'd, but fulfill'd.
“To ask the Reason why thou art in love,
“Or what might be the noblest End in Love,
“Would overthrow that kindly rising Warmth,
“That many times slides gently o'er the Heart,
“'Twould make thee grave and staid: thy Thoughts wou'd be
“Like a thrice married Widow, full of Ends,
“And void of all Compassion. And to fright thee
“From such Enquiry, whereas thou art now
“Living in Ignorance, mild, fresh and sweet,
“And but sixteen, the knowing what Love is
“Would make thee six and forty.
Viol.
“Would it would make me nothing. I have heard
“Scholars affirm the World's upheld by Love,
“But I believe Women maintain all this,
“For there's no Love in Men.
Val.
“Yes, in some Men.
Viol.
“I know 'em not.
Val.
“Why, there is Love in me.
Viol.
“There's Charity, I'm sure, towards me.
Val.
“And Love; which I will now express, my pretty Maid.
“And therefore envious; she is very old,
“And therefore jealous: Thou art fair and young,
“A Subject fit for her unlucky Vices
“To work upon. She never will endure thee.
Viol.
“Oh! fear not, Sir, the Friendship I shall hold with you
“Can she endure, I shou'd be thankful to you. May I pray
“For you and her? Will she be brought to think
“That all the honest Industry I have
“Deserves her Bread? If this may be endur'd,
“She'll pick a Quarrel with a sleeping Child
“E'er she fall out with me.
Val.
“But trust me, she does hate all handsomeness.
Viol.
“How fell you then in Love with such a Creature?
Val.
“I never lov'd her.
Viol.
“And yet married her!
Val.
“She was a rich one.
Viol.
“And you swore, I warrant ye,
“She was a fair One then too?
Val.
“Or believe me
“I think I had not had her.
Viol.
“Are you Men
“All such? Would you wou'd wall us in a Place
“Where all we Women that are innocent
“Might live together.
Val.
“Do not weep at this;
“Although I dare not, for some weighty Reason,
“Displease my Wife, yet I forget not thee.
Viol.
“What will you do with me?
Val.
“Thou shalt be plac'd
“At my Man's House, have the best Food and Rayment
“As can be bought with Money. These white Hands
“shall never learn to work; but they shall play
“As thou sayst they were wont, teaching the Strings
“To move in Order; or what else thou wilt.
Viol.
Oh dear Sir! do not talk of Sloth nor Vanities,
But let my Labour get me means to live.
Val.
But if, my pretty One, I shou'd receive thee
To a more hospitable Roof, good Deeds
Will pay themselves, and such I must esteem
My generous Reception of such Sweetness,
Beyond the menial Service thou canst do me,
Thou wilt not be ungrateful to so kind
A Benefactor.
Viol.
Be ungrateful! No.
Val.
“Then give me
“Some Tryal of thy Gratitude. I believe
“We are alone; shew me how thou wilt kiss,
“And hug me hard, when I have stol'n away
“From my too clamorous Wife that watches me,
“To spend a blessed Hour or two with thee.
Viol.
“Is this the Love you mean? you wou'd have that
“Is not in me to give; you wou'd have Wantonness.
Viol.
“Nay, give it not so harsh a Name; but such
“Is the warm Love I want.
Viol.
“And by my Troth
“I have it not.—For Heav'ns sake use me kindly;
“Though I be good, and shew perhaps a Monster,
“As this World goes.
Val.
“I do but speak to thee:
“Thy Answers are thy own—I compel none;
I must confess, all the whole Charity
I have this Day shewn thee had no other Ends
But to possess the Sweets I had preserv'd.
“Alas! What Profit could thy Work do me?
No; the soft melting Joys of Love in those
Dear Arms were all my Hopes; but not forced from thee,
No, with thy own Consent.
Viol.
“I give you Thanks
“For all your Courtesies, and there's a Jewel
“That's worth the taking, that I did preserve
“Safe from the Robbers. Pray you leave me here
“Just as you found me, a poor Innocent,
“And Heav'n will bless you for it.
Val.
“Pretty Maid,
“I am no Robber, nor yet Ravisher;
“I prithee keep thy Jewel. I have done
“No Wrong to thee.
Viol.
No, Sir, nor think of doing it;
You have done too much already, ev'n in breathing
Such impure Sounds to Ears so chast as mine.
Look round you, Sir, behold yon' Streaks of red,
The crimson Skies around the setting Sun,
And think it ev'n the very Blush of Heav'n
To have heard such Words as these.
Val.
This charming Innocence
Has touch'd my Soul so near, that here I leave thee
With both our Vertues safe. Nor dares my Roof
“No, from thy sight my rescued Honour flies:
“I dare no longer trust such dangerous Eyes.
[Exit.
Viol.
“What have I scaped! Can Men be such strange Creatures!
“Woman, they say, was only made of Man.
“Methinks 'tis strange they shou'd be so unlike.
“It may be all the best was cut away
“To make the Woman, and the bad was left
“Behind with him.—I'll sit me down, and weep.
“All Things have cast me from 'em, but the Earth.
“The Evening comes, and every little Flow'r
“Droops now as well as I.—But see, kind Heav'n
Pities the Innocent. Yonder I see
Some rustick Maids pass by—I'll fly to them:
Their homely Roof will sure receive me gentlier
Than this bad Man wou'd do. True Honour dwells
Not in proud Palaces, but Cots and Cells.
[Exit.
Enter Jenny dress'd up as a Shepherdess, and her Lover as a Swain, call'd Damon and Phyllis, attended by other Rustick Maids.
Phyll.
'Psha, You're so troublesome!
Dam.
Fie, my sweet Phyllis, can Love be troublesome?
Phyll.
Can any thing but a Fool ask that Question!
C. C. Man.
Hey day, who's here! Look, Fubby, look: That young
Phyllis there and my Jenny are as like one another as two Eggs out of one
Nest. Nay were not the Chicken safe in yonder Coop I should swear 'twas she.
C. C. Wife.
As I hope to be an Alderman's Lady, much such a Look.
C. C. Man.
Good lack a day, how Faces may resemble!
C. C. Wife.
But hush, we disturb the Play.
Dam.
Come, come, be kind my Dear, and take thy Damon—
Thou know'st I have woo'd thee long.
Phyll.
Long! How long! Poor three short Months.
Dam.
Three Months quotha! How many an honest Turtle-couple
have I seen coo, mate, nest, ay, and breed too in half our wooing time.
Phyll.
And so you'd have me such another tame Houshold Dove, slip
my Neck into the Wedlock-coop, and fall to billing without Fear or
Wit. No, you're a little too hasty. What think you of a Mistress
has made her humble Servant wait an Age for her?
Dam.
And to marry'd in Crutches; Got their Bride-men and Bridemaids
Snuffs of Life out.
Prithee, young Fool, learn thou more Wit, and take
Thy hearty Damon, a warm brisk young Fellow
Able to do the double Work of Marriage for thee;
Make thee a Wife and Mother.
1 Rust. Maid.
By my Troth, the Man speaks honestly.
2 Rust. Maid.
Ay, and ingeniously too. Here's some sense in
Courtship. But who have we here?
Enter Viola.
Viol.
May a poor Maid, by persecuting Fortune
Lost in these Woods, a Stranger, and exposed
To all the Horrors of approaching Night,
Find so much Pity amongst all you Fair ones
Of my own tender Sex, to beg this Night's
Reception in your Hospitable Walls!
1 Rust. Maid.
The Thing talks prettily.
2 Rust. Maid.
And looks as prettily. Let her go on.
Viol.
Nor let it fright you to receive a Wanderer.
Believe me, tho' a Rambler, I am an honest one:
Ill used by a bad Man; and for no Fault
But my fair Vertue and unspotted Innocence
Deserted at this Hour, and left alone
To nought but Heav'n to shield me.
Phyll.
Trust me, Sweet on
He must be a bad Man indeed, cou'd use thee ill.
Dam.
Prithee, dear Phyllis, make her thy Guest to night.
Phyll.
Why honow, busie Fool, who bid you ask for her!—
Such Sweetness, pretty Maid, pleads its own Cause.
And thou shalt be my Guest.
Viol.
Kind Heav'n reward you.
Dam.
Hark you—only one sober Word. Prethee make her
thy Bedfellow too.
Phyll.
Still impertinent! My Arm,
my Bed, and Heart shall all receive her without your senseless Stuff!
Dam.
Do you hear, Chicken? I have done your business for you:
You shall be her Bedfellow to night; but upon condition you speak
good Word for me that I may be her Bedfellow to-morrow night.
Viol.
How, Friend, a Man her Bedfellow!
Dam.
Ay, ay, a Man; why, 'tis the whole Work I have been doing
these three Months, and there wants nothing but her Consenting
or two for me, thou dost not know what Service thou'dst do me.
Phyll.
Nay, Damon, if this ingenious sweet Creature does take thy
Cause in hand, her Wit may do more for thee in an hour, than thy
Blockhead in a month.
Dam.
Do you hear that, Child? She tells you her self, what Wonders
you'll do for me.
Viol.
Nay, my kind Patroness, if I have your own Commission
To plead his Cause, Love shall not want an Advocate.
Dam.
Nay, dear Prattler, we shall find thee Work enough for that
pretty talking Talent of thine. Here's our noble Landlord coming
down amongst us: We expect him here this very Night. Yonder
Sycamore-walk leads directly up to his great House, and he must pass
this very way. Oh, he's a Noble young Spark, an Honourable
Knight, and bred up a Scholar at Rome, forsooth. Ay, and the Lord
of I know not how many Miles round us, an Estate of Ten thousand
Crowns a year; and we are some of his Vassals, as they call us, his
Tenants. Now, Child, what shalt thou do, but be our Spokeswoman
for us, and make him a fine Compliment in our Name to give him
his welcome among us.
Viol.
With all my Heart, kind Friend, that's the least Return
For the kind Favours I have received amongst you.
Dam.
Nay, dear Rogue, thou must throw in one word by the by,
in my own special Case. You must know, my good Father, rest his
Soul, held a Pasture-farm of Two hundred Crowns a year of him.
And here's this cunning Baggage will never let me slip my Neck into
Wedlock with her, till my Landlord has renew'd my Lease. Now if
thou'dst but put in a bob that way—But see, yonder he comes.
Enter Chevalier and Attendants.
Chev.
Drive round the Park, I'll take the Evening Air,
And walk the small Remainder of my Journey.
Dam.
Now, Girl, speak up.
Viol.
Permit me, Honour'd Sir,
A Stranger to these Rural Groves, in Gratitude
For the Protection these kind Friends have given me,
Commission'd in their Names, with humblest Duty
To hail you, Sir, to these sweet Bow'rs of Innocence,
And all those bending Knees that call you Lord.
Go on, thou charming Orator!
Viol.
Alas, Sir, give my weak Eloquence no such gay Title:
I am but an humble Suppliant in the Cause
Of your poor Homagers t'intreat the Blessing
Of their most Honour'd Lord's warm Smiles. Nay, I have one
More singular Grace t'implore. This honest Swain,
Your duteous Vassal, love that beauteous Maid,
And humbly begs by me your gracious Hand
To crown his Joys, and give him his fair Bride.
Nay, and to urge his Suit a little farther,
He has desired me, Sir, to lay before you
He holds some Lands of you.
Dam.
Yes, an' please your Worship, Two hundred Crowns a year.
Chev.
Hold from me! No;
My Title's all expired. The Land thou hold'st
No longer mine, but thine; no more my Vassal,
But now thy own free Lord. That Fair one gives it thee
In Dowry with this Bride.
[Gives him Phyllis.
nor shalt thou wait
For lingring Blessings from that giving Hand,
I'll wake the Lark to sign and seal it thine.
Dam.
My own free Lord, and all my clear Estate.
Well, Phyllis, now—
Phyll.
My Hand and Heart's all thine.
Dam.
And shall I marry thee?
Phyll.
Ay, Fool, to morrow. Two hundred Crowns a year!
Dam.
Oh, Noble Sir, you have so overloaded me with this Heap
of Kindness I don't know how to thank you!
Chev.
Thank not me.
I have given thee nothing. Thank this gracious Foundress
Of thy whole Feast of Joy—Hast thou ought else,
Divine one, to command me? I cou'd doal
Whole Worlds away when dispensing Smiles
Direct my showring Hand.
Viol.
Oh my dread Fears! where will this end?
Chev.
But stay, what am I doing?
I am yet but in a Cloud, and walk before thee
With unenlighten'd Eyes. Instruct my Weakness,
And let me know the due Respects I owe thee.
Say, whence bright Excellence, and who thou art?
Alas, I am a poor Maid—
Chev.
A Maid, and poor one!
By Heav'n, there's Musick in that sound! Believe me
Those Charms, fair Nymph, have made me so ill-natured
Methinks I would not have thee be a rich one,
For that might make thee proud: And then, alas,
I should approach with trembling Knees before thee—
But see the Sun's retir'd, and Night's bleak Air
Will breathe too boldly on those lovely Roses.
Say then amongst you all,
Where takes this fair Unknown her Rest to Night?
Phyll.
She does me th'Honour, Sir, to be my Bedfellow.
Chev.
And shall I beg one Honour too?
Viol.
From me, Sir?
Chev.
Only permit me thy fair Hand to lead thee
To thy reposing Cell. There with a Prayer
To yond bright Throne call all thy Guardian Angels
To wait thy golden Dreams. Then to my own
Unresting Bed retired, upraise the Morn,
Call to the Groves to wake their whole wing'd Choir,
To tune their Airs for thee: Bid the gay Spring
All, all for thee her flowry Odours breathe,
And Roses ev'n uncropp'd thy Garlands wreathe.
Say, shall I in this Cause—
Viol.
Here you reign Lord.
[Giving him her Hand.
And I am all Duty—Guard me, guard me Heav'n!
Chev.
Now, Woman, thou who boasts the envied Glory
To spread the Pillow for this beauteous Guest,
Lead, lead the way before me. Lead to that
Rich Bed of Bliss where those fair Eyes shall sleep,
The honour'd Walls which this fair Charge shall keep,
My humbler Tow'rs to that proud Roof must bow,
Mine but the Cottage, thine's the Palace now.
[Exeunt, the Maids leading, then Damon and Phyllis hand in hand, and the Chevalier and Viola last.
C. C. Wife.
Well, I perceive by this high-flown Courtier, here's new
Love-work going forwards.
C. C. Man.
Ay, and old Love-work well finish'd, a Mariage-bargain
honestly struck for to morrow, between this Phyllis and Damon.
Yes, yes, well finish'd indeed, with neither Lucia's
Fool, nor my Jenny's Alderman to spoil Sport between 'em.
| The City-Ramble : or, A Play-house Wedding | |