University of Virginia Library

Act III.

Scene I.

Enter Alphonso.
Alph.
Tis late, and I alone: th'hard travell'd Sun
Now wantons in the Bosom of the Sea,
Whilst amorous Clouds steal nearer to the Earth,
And melt themselves away upon the flow'rs:
The Beasts in Companies to Coverts run;
And all the feather'd Kind, upon the wing,
Pair to the Groves, and dream the night away.

Enter Erminia.
Erm.
Then, why art thou the loyterer of Love?
Why when Erminia's Arms are opened wide,
Expecting to embrace thee to thy rest;
Why then does my Alphonso chuse to wander
The melancholy maze of Darkness here?

Alph.
O thou too justly dost present my Crime!
I own I am to blame, to call thee forth
Into the rawness of a midnight Air,
At this dark hour; But! O, forbear to think
'Twas from my choice, that I have staid thus long;
'Twas a rude thought, that wou'd not be deny'd;
Indeed no more: prithee to bed, my Dear.

Erm.
Alas! There is no rest for me without thee!

Alph.
O my Hearts comfort! yet a minute longer,
And I'll discharge my Soul of all its load;
Come trembling with my strong desires upon me,
To thy expecting arms, till thou confess
I've made amends for all the faults of Love.

Erm.
I will doubt your Truth! farewel my Lord.

[Exit.
Alph.
Good night, my Love: O may the softest arm.
Of downy slumbers rock thee to repose.
Lull all thy senses fast: And may no thought
(To interrupt the quiet of thy Bed)
(In the loose Revel of a Dream) present
Those Images, that keep me waking here.

Enter Lorenzo.
Lor.
Who's there? Alphonso?

Alph.
Ha! who calls?

Lor.
Thy Friend.

Alph.
Lorenzo! alwayes welcome to my Heart:
But now thou com'st, as if my Fate design'd
My Happiness should all depend on thee.

Lor.
'Tis late! my friend, how fares thy vertuous Wife?

Alph.
Well, very well: just parted hence, and now
Preparing for her Bed.

Lor.
To morrow we shall meet:
I have an idle thought to satisfie
And then to rest: Good night Alphonso.

Alph.
Friend, am I to be a stranger to that thought?

Lor.
Thou hast my Soul: But now Erminia stays;
Thy soft desiring Wife expects thy coming:
Busie in thought, and hasty for the hour,
She turns and sighs, and wishes; counts the Clock,
And every minute drags a heavy pace,
Till thou appear, the Champion of thy Bed,
Arm'd at all points, and eager for the charge,
That calls her to the Combat of thy Love.

Alph.
No: not to night, Lorenzo.

Lor.
Not to night!

Alph.
No Friend: my thoughts are strangers to repose;
I'll not to bed.

Lor.
Alphonso have a care:
And physick not thy health to a Disease,
If once the foul infection of a doubt,
But mingle with the current of thy thoughts;
The subtle poison seizes on the Heart,
Corrupts the very fountain of thy peace,
And then the minutes of the Damn'd are thine.

Alph.
Lorenzo! no; I hope my Fate intends me
To nobler purposes. Yet.

Lor.
What?

Alph.
The Letter—

Lor.
Well.

Alph.
I must be satisfy'd of that!

Lor.
You may.

Alph.
By Heaven I will.

Lor.
Time must discover it.

Alph.
O! may I be that hateful thing, I scorn!
The common, ridden Cuckold of the Town;
Stag'd to the crowd on publick Theatres,
Nay, balleted about the streets in rhime,
When for a wanton itching in my blood,
I gratifie a craving appetite;
And let the just resentment of a wrong,
Expect to morrow for a cool revenge.

Lor.
I have a Sword, that wonnot be behind
In any task of Honour, for my friend:
Command me freely.

Alph.
'Tis out come to that.
But thus Lorenzo, I accept thy Love!
Go to my Wife, tell her some discontents
Have forc'd me out to travel.

Lor.
How! Alphonso?

Alph.
Observe me out, not that I doubt Erminia;
But when my absence is by all believ'd;
Conceal'd in private here, I soon shall find
My vigorous Lover bolting at my Wife;
And I may know to thank him for the Office.

Lor.
It has a Face indeed: Erminia too,
May bear a part in this.

Alph.
Lorenzo, no.
Much may be gathered from her management,
In my supposed absence, that may serve,
Thro' the succeeding changes of my life,
To fix my temper to the point of vertue.

Lor.
Where shall we meet?

Alph.
I cannot wander far.

Lor.
This is the door. Farewel.

[goes in.
Alph.
So, now my Heart
Be still, beat even measures in my Breast,
That when the hour of Fate shall summon me
The fury of my firm collected force
May strike for Honour in a brave revenge.
Hark, 'tis the tread of Servants coming this way:
I would not be discovered.

[Exit.
Enter Clara and Juliana.
Clar.
Madam, This office that I venture on, in your service
Is but an ungenerous return for Alberto's bounty!

Jul.
'Tis the only way you have left you, Clara.
Your Lady has disappointed you: and as I take it,
Your Credit's engaged for the payment of a Sum to night,
Which I must either lay down,
Or you suffer in your trading hereafter.

Clar.
Nay, I am easily perswaded; and, upon second thoughts,
Imagin there may be less danger, and more Conscience,
In this design, than my first undertaking.

Jul.
O! a great deal more, Clara: for so you injure no body:
Your Lord will be no Cuckold, your Lady miss nothing, that
Ever she had, and I shall have but my own.

Clar.
True, Madam, But how shall I be just to him?

Jul.
That I'll tell you too!

Clar.
He has paid for my Lady.

Jul.
And he shall have her, or any Lady at the same rate.

Clar.
How Madam! how? That Art were an Estate.

Jul.
'Tis but providing me a dark room, with a little of thy
Direction; and the Strength of his own imagination
Will carry on the Cheat.

Clar.
But if he shou'd discover!

Jul.
Why let him make the best of the discovery;
He'll find me a Woman, Clara.

Clar.
Truly Madam, I begin to submit to your Arguments;
I believe this Project may take.

Jul.
It has been succesful in England already: where intreagues
Are carried on with less management, than the Italian
Air will allow of.

Clar.
Well, I never knew the good of a strong Imagination before.

Jul.
'Tis the best comfort, I fear, of a matrimonial Amour, Clara:
But when do you expect Alberto?

Clar.
'Tis near the time: Let's in and prepare to receive him.

[Exeunt.
A SONG made by Colonel Sackvile.

Enter Alberto.
Alb.
Well! were there nothing more in an intreague, than barely
The enjoyment, the unconscionable expence of the pleasure
Would take off our appetite to the Sin; and the Devil would
Soon fail of his correspondence with the World,
Unless the prizes of his Commodities fell, that honest
Fellows might be damnd'd at easier rates.
Where am I? Hold! O 'tis Alphonso's House.
And this the very hour, that Clara promis'd,
To meet meat, with all her Womans Arts,
And joyn in the dear Scene of Cuckoldom,
The door opens, I will observe at distance.

Enter Clara.
Clar.
My Lord gone in discontent to travel! and my poor
Lady left in distress here behind him, Let me see,
There are comfortable applications to be made out
Of these Doctrines. And if she has not the discretion
To turn 'em to their right uses; I that am wiser,
Am oblig'd in conscience to provide for the family.

Alb.
And 'tis a charitable, Christian-like principle in thee, Clara.

Clar.
My Lord Alberto!

Alb.
The same, I am punctual you see.

Clar.
And that's an extraordinary vertue in a young Lover,
And ought to be encourag'd in an Age, when poor
Women are us'd, just like your Trees; Husbanded only
Out of a vanity of having the first ripe fruit,
Without the desire of tasting of 'em your selves.

Alb.
No faith. I am for enjoying the fruits of my labour
Clara: Besides I have a vigorous young, craving
Appetite; (with a digestion above the fear of Crudities
These Forty years) that must be satisfy'd at home,
Before I think of being bountiful to my Neighbours,
But tell me! Alphonso gone to travel. Ha!

Clar.
Most seasonably my Lord.

Alb.
Then Love and Fortune for me: lead on Clara.

Clar.
What do you mean!

Alb.
O honestly I warrant you.

Clar.
But consider my Lord.

Alb.
I do Clara.

Clar.
My Ladies vertue!

Alb.
And my secrecy: there's vertue for her vertue: nay, if you
Go to that, mine is a Cardinal vertue among the Ladies,
And ought to be respected in any Court in Christiandom,
Where the Love, as well as Religion is Catholick.

Clar.
But my Lord, you know decency requires—

Alb.
And I'll do't as decently as she,
Or any Lady can, in reason require.

Clar.
To morrow may prove more favourable to you;
My Lady has but just heard the news, and her thoughts
To night will run on my Lords unkindness.

Alb.
Therefore it shall be to night: O! 'tis the natural constitution
Of Womankind, upon the first suspicion of their Lovers inconstancy,
To club with the next chance-comer for a revenge.

Clar.
So that who ever fasts,
The sweetest meats are prudently ordered to our own Table.

Alb.
The Policy is true Machiavil, i'faith, on your sides;
And now for a stronger Testimony of this within.

Clar.

O hold, you ruine all else, I'le in before, dispose all things to their
proper places, and return in an instant, for scandal must be avoided.

Alb.
And 'tis but reasonable; for reputation is the fairest Face
Of Virtue, and will soonest cheat the World;
This brings the Physician his Patients, and the Lawyer his
Clyents; and though one destroy your Body, and t'other your
Estate: Opinion justifies their Knavery, and secures
Their Functions from Poverty and contempt.
Clara stayes long—Pox! I'm impatient—I'le 'een enter,
And do my Errand my self.

[Exit.]
Enter Lorenzo.
Loren.
'Twas here I left Alphonso: I know not why:
Some unseen Power directs my steps this way:
Would I could find the truth of what I fear:
He is abus'd: And he's so near my heart,
That when I think upon his injuries,
A just resentment arms within my Breast,
As if my better self were wrong'd in him.
I'le take another turn to find him yet.—
[Goes out and returns.
Perhaps I staid too long, and he is gone
To wait me at my House,—It must be so.—

Enter Clara and Alberto at the door.
Alb.
'Tis hard to leave my happiness so soon.

Clar.
There may be danger in a longer stay.

Alb.
I must be satisfy'd, you say.

Loren.
Ha! a Mans voice from Alphonso's House!
The door too open! There may be more in this;
A midnight Thief, or Murderer.—I'le venture
To secure him.
So brisk! have at you Sir.
They justle and draw, as they are clos'd Clara enters with a Light, and Exit:]
Alberto?

Alb.
Ha! Lorenzo: 'Twas lucky that
This business grew not up to cutting Throats.

Loren.
My Lord! you are the Master of your thoughts,
They can inform you best.

Alb.
Of what Lorenzo?

Loren.
Whether you do deserve that Fate, or no?

Alb.
You dare not think I do.

Loren.
You know I dare
All honest things: But you, my Lord! are touch't.

[Exit.]
Alb.
Y' are indispos'd, I'le leave you Sir.

Loren.
Farewell.—
It must be so, else why alone? Why here
Alone? And at this Midnight hour? When none
But desperate Wretches wandring to their Fates,
Venture abroad, uncall'd. But then Erminia!
Damn her, she sins beyond a Curse! and Hell,
All Hell must do her Justice. Not allow
A minute for the Changing of the Scene.
She Wept! By Heaven I saw her faithless Tears,
And thought I saw Alphonso in her eyes,
Then, in that Minute, when the Devil and Lust
Where Bawding for Alberto in her Heart!
Oh Woman! Woman!
Dear Damn'd deceitful Sex! 'Tis my own fault,
If after this, I fall into thy Snare.

Enter Alphonso.
Alph.
Lorenzo! Welcome as the hopes of Peace,
Thy presence brings to my divided Soul!
O take me to thy Armes and let me hide
These Guilty blushes; that at sight of thee
Start, and confess the weakness of my friend.

Lor.
What weakness! Speak Alphonso.

Alph.
Woud'st thou think it?
Since last we parted, I have wandred on
Through the dark journies of the desart Night;
My ridden thoughts hagg'd with oppressing fears,
That sunk my Spirits to the depth of Hell:
And ever as I went, Erminia stood,
Like a tormenting Conscience in my way.
To keep me waking to the sence of pain.

Loren.
'Tis scarce an hour since we parted.

Alph.
Oh! The wretched count by years: By Heaven, my Friend,
Were I to live those minutes o're agen,
The horrors that attend on waking guilt
Would seize upon my thoughts, and hurry 'em
Into the wildness of a mad Despair.

Lor.
Despair, and Guilt and Horror. These are fit
Companions for the Damn'd? The Murderer,
In his last Death-bed Agonies, hears such sounds,
To summon him to everlasting Woe:
My Friend knows no such Crimes.

Alph.
Lorenzo! Oh Erminia!

Lor.
Well.

Alph.
Instruct my weakness here,
How to begin, what I shall say to move her,
How to confess my self enough her slave.

Lor.
You rave Alphonso.

Alph.
Oh to thee I do!
But didst thou know what 'tis to bear about thee
A heart subdu'd, devoted to desires,
Which, fierce as the first appetite of Youth,
Drive violently to thee Goal of Love:
That would inform thee better.

Loren.
I cannot guess what you resolve on?

Alphon.
On my Happiness.

Lorenzo.
Like a Wastful Prodigal,
I have long spent in folly, from my store;
But there is yet behind a large Estate;
The promise of Eternal joyes to come,
In my Erminia's Armes, where I will run
And Love in quiet all my Life away.

Lor.
'Tis well resolv'd.

Alph.
My Heart must bear me Witness
With what unwillingness I entertain'd
Those fears that shap'd these Monsters in my Soul;
Then judge me all the World, and thou my Friend,
With what a start, and Eagerness of Joy,
I meet that peace, that ministers a Cure.

Lor.
You mean Erminia!

Alph.
I do: My Wife!

Lor.
Is there such healing Virtue in a Wife?

Alph.
Oh she's the kind Physician of my thoughts.

Lor.
Nay then I ask your Pardon: Faith Alphonso,
I thought a Wife, like other Remedies,
By often application might grow stale,
And be a worthless drugg upon our hands.

Alph.
Lorenzo, Thou art alter'd in thy thoughts.

Lor.
Men are not still the same: Our Appetites
Are various, and inconstant as the Moon
That never Shines with the same Face agen;
'Tis Nature's Curse never to be resolv'd;
Busy to Day, in the pursuit of what
To Morrows elder judgment may despise.

Alph.
These are the mouldy Morals of the Dead.

Lor.
That speak the living plain: Art thou the same?
Art thou not alter'd from what last I saw thee?
The Hero strutting in thy pageant pride:
Swell'd with thy wrongs, and bursting with resentment?

Alph.
Ha!

Lor.
Go, you would yet be more her slave.

Alph.
What mean these words?

Lor.
Your Tongue can best explain
The Dictates of your heart: But now you said
You wish'd you knew to be enough her slave,
I think 'twas so.

Alph.
It was by Heav'n!

Lor.
And Faith I thought a Husband needed not that Prayer.

Alph.
Y' are merry friend!

Lor.
Would thou would'st be so too!
And learn to think no farther of the Sex
Than for thy ease and pleasure.

Alph.
Still in Riddles!

Lor.
To Morrow will unfold 'em: I must leave you,
But friend, the Night's far spent, Erminia too
Can live till Morn without you.

Alph.
Sayst thou Friend?

Lor.
To Night you must not see her?

Alph.
Not see her?

Lor.
No.

Alph.
Lorenzo, There is something in thy thoughts
Thou dar'st not trust me with—I hope she's honest.

Alph.
O doubtless, honest.

Alph.
How did she bear thy Message?

Lor.
Faith, Alphonso,
If I may count her sorrow by her Tears,
She very hardly bore it: For she wept,
Had not all Hell been kindled in her heart,
Aside.
Enough to have cool'd the Burning Devil there!

Aside.
Alph.
Then I am satisfy'd.

Lor.
Indeed!

Alph.
Agen!
Where would'st thou drive my doubts? If thou woud'st have
Me think thee still the same, my Friend, and Honest,
Inform me of thy thoughts?

Lor.
Then thou art Wrong'd.

Alph.
That's the Disease! and know
The Poisonous Scorpion that has made the Wound,
Has vertue in its Blood to work a Cure:
The Man, my Friend, the Villain that hath done it!

Lor.
There I must be Excus'd!

Alph.
Not tell me?
The Honour of thy Friend engag'd! and thou
Conceal the Villain from a just Revenge?

Lor.
Not now! another time.

Alph.
This prostituted outside-art may pass
Upon the World, where Interest is a Friendship,
But is despis'd, and scorn'd by nobler Souls.

Lor.
You know me better; and I thought Alphonso
My virtue had been try'd, and found sufficient
To justify our Honours to the World;
You might have trusted me with yours till Morn:
To Morrow we shall meet on better terms; Farewell.—

[Exit.]
Alph.
I was too blame: I know him honest:
And know his thoughts are labouring for my Peace!
Yet why he should conceal the Villains Name
Confounds me? Hold! if it should prove the Duke!
Confusion! All my spirits take the Alarm!
Forward to do me noble justice there.
Tis so—I know it now—Lorenzo too,
Divided in his thoughts, betwixt his Friend,
And Master, comes half-hearted to my Cause,
Till Fame report my Vengeance to the World.
Who's there?

Enter Rogero.
Rog.
Who's there Sir? why may be I am here Sir! may be
I am not here! what's that to any man, Sir?

Alph.
Nothing at all, Friend.

Rog.
Here's a Rogue for you now, a fine embroider'd Rogue!
That would scrape acquaintance for fear of a beating.

Alp.
This Fellow may be of use.

Rog.
Friend, you say, y' are very welcome Sir, but as I take it,
I never saw you in my life before.

Alph.
Then down with it for a secret.

Rog.
What?

Alph.

That an old man may be wiser than his beard: mum, not a word of this,
as you hope for instruction.

Rog.
I'll keep your Council.

Alph.
Wilt thou my old Lad! Thou shalt never wear
Spectacles more then: Hast thou heard no news of late?

Rog.
No tidings of thy Wits! God help thee.

Alph.
Why then I'll tell thee, the Duke—

Rog.
What of him?

Alph.
Why who would think it now?

Rog.
Think! what!

Alph.
That when the Devil's in the head; the Breeches shou'd be honest.

Rog.
What's this to the Duke?

Alph.

Excuse me there: There's a method in State Affairs, which we
Politicians amble in to the end of our discourse, now, Sir, if you will mortifie the
vehemence of your desire, with the phlegm of your discretion, and attend with
patience, much may be done, and so I may come in order to what relates to the
Duke.

Rog.
Very well, very well.

Alph.
But Sir, 'twill not be very well! when y'have heard it all.

Rog.
Pray Sir, go on.

Alph.
You know the Duke.

Rog.
I think I have some reason.

Alph.
You know him well.

Rog.
Not well enough to lye with him.

Alph.
'Tis enough you know him.

Rog.
Know him! ah God help thee, and the quantity of thy
Brains, by thy impertinent Catechism.

Alph.
Why then old Truepenny the Duke is now most violently in labour.

Rog.
In labour! Alas, I am in pain for thee.

Alhh.
And by an act of State, this very day
We are oblig'd, as all good Subjects ought.
To bring by turns our Wives and Daughters in.
As the best means of bringing him to bed.
How the poor Fools, I warrant you, will strive who first shall lay him.

Rog.

How, my Daughter to be a Midwife at fifteen! God sa' me she is not
come to the Criss-cross-row of her profession yet.

Alph.
Hast thou a Daughter? home, quickly home then: lock up thy doors.
Let her not see the day: Let her not draw the open
Air: for if there be a pore unbarr'd about her,
The bawdy Devil will get in, and then, Good morrow Grandfather.

Rog.
Gad, and it may be so, who can tell, ha! come Sir, 'tis late
If you'll along with me, you'll find a hearty welcome, and poor fare.

Alph.
I thank you Sir, I'll follow you: This disguise
Of Folly may conceal me for a night,
And my revenge to morrow sets me right.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to Alphonso's House.
Erminia sitting.
Enter Lorenzo and Clara.
Lor.
Your Lady not a bed?

Clar.
Alas in tears,

She has spent the night, remov'd from comfort here, and from all eyes. She
mourns the hours away.

Lor.
My visit may disturb her more.

Clar.
She says you are always welcome.

Lor.
She rises: I will venture on, and spare
Your farther service.
[Exit Clara.
How is it with you, Madam?

[to Ermin.
Erm.
As with one,
Who, wandring over a wide, barren waste,
Views the last circles of the sinking Sun,
Then gazing round, quite destitute of hope,
Forsaken and forlorn, sits sighing down,
To mix with night, and entertain despair:
You are that friendly Traveller, whom chance
Has this way brought, to guide me safely home;
O lend some charitable succour to me,
And let me stray no farther from my joyes!

Lor.
There's such an Angel innocence appears,
And pleads her cause i'th front of all her Crimes;
That if I look upon her, I must think
That 'tis impossible she should be damn'd.

Erm.
The hand of Heaven has reacht my Crimes and why!
Oh why shou'd I complain? Yet I must own,
When I reflect upon Alphonso's loss!
Oh when I think on that, my poor heart swells,
Beats in my breast, and rises at its wrongs,
Disputes the Justice of the Courts above,
And thinks my punishment out weighs my Crimes.

Lor.
She'll talk me from the credit of my sense, if she goes on!

Erm.
Oh had wife Heav'n design'd
To prove my vertue this way: I had stood
Firm as the Foot of Resolution,
And weary'd out the Tryal of a Saint!
Afflictions of all kinds, the loss of Friends
The shame of Poverty, and the hand of Want,
Diseases, Infamy; all, all together
Drive me far off the Comforts of this World;
But my Alphonso! Oh I cannot think
Of life without him.—Heaven has made us one,
Nor shall the malice of our Fate divide us.

Lor.
It was Alberto, for I was awake:
Death! I'le believe my Eyes in spight of Hell.

Erm.
Lorenzo; you, nay you and Heaven must do
A Justice here, and witness to my truth.

Lor.
What does she drive at now?

Erm.
How I have ever liv'd, and always will,
(Tho banisht from his sight, and bed for ever)
His truly loving and obedient Wife.

Lor.
Indeed a most obedient, loving Wife!

Erm.
Alass! Lorenzo! I have lost in him
All that this World calls happy, and may peace
Be still a stranger to my thoughts, if I
Can guess a Cause.

Lor.
Indeed! Is't possible?

Erm.
Thus in this awful posture, I invoke
Heaven, Earth and Men to evidence my Truth:
May Comfort never find me, if my heart
E're sent a Wish to any other man:
If when my Eyes have wander'd, they have fixt
On any other Object of Desire.
Then why? Oh why am I thus hardly us'd?

Lor.
In tears! away! send sorrow to the Grave:
Let the stale, dry bon'd Matron wish and weep
Her wrinkles full, at the sad memory
Of those dear joys, that never must return:
Oh think on that; There is the wretchedness
That sadly sighs, Youth is not always ours.
That Beauty that invites all Eyes, and now
Charms every Heart, in favour of your Cause,
(When time shall sink his furrows on your Cheeks)
Will pass neglected; Therefore be advis'd,
And do not lavish out those Charms in Tears,
That are a Debt to Love.

Erm.
Alass! my Charms
Are useless now: The power that first made
And Conjur'd these faint Beauties into Charms,
Withdraws his Influence; my lov'd Alphonso—

Lor.
No more of Him.

Erm.
No more of my Alphonso!
Is he not mine? my Husband!

Lor.
Therefore no more of him, what Woman, when
Her youth boils up, and wantons in her veins,
When her hot, panting pulse beats to the joy,
And the thin blood springs forward to be gone,
What woman then would quench a generous flame,
In an unactive, heavy Husbands Arms,
That tires and jades your Expectation,
In the first stretch of Love, then dully falls
To his old Trot, and drudges out the Course?

Erm.
I do not understand you.

Lor.
Well, No more
Of the dull Subject; Is't not so?

Erm.
Lorenzo—

Lor.
True Madam: And to leave you without Cause,
As you say Madam without Cause, (and sure
You are the best Judge of such a Cause:)
Was barbarous, and did deserve that Fate.

Erm.
Alass! what Fate?

Lor.
Come, come: I know the Sex;
And know there is a Spirit in the blood
Of all you marry'd Women, that ne're fails
Solliciting your thoughts to a Consent,
Of forking out your vengeance on the Brows
Of the forgiving, thoughtless Fools at home.

Erm.
Our Sex may merit Censure: But I hope
My Lord, You think some honest.

Lor.
I believe
Pride may do much to keep the body safe,
Or fear of vent'ring upon joys unknown:
But she who once has tasted of the Sweets,
(If honest to the love of Truth:) must own
A relish still remaining of the joy,
That plays upon the Pallat, and invites
A youthful Appetite to taste agen:
But when it comes to that, your Cravings grow
Intemperate, not to be satisfi'd.
Oh for the Brawn! the Back of Hercules!
With all the three nights sweat, his father Jove
Spent in Alcmene's service, but to try
If that could satisfie a Ladies longing.

Erm.
Alass! there is some meaning in your words
I do not apprehend: but yet I fear.

Lor.
I know thou dost: The Devil that taught thee Sin,
And train'd thee to perfection in thy Trade,
Now leaves thee to the Conscience of thy Crimes.

Erm.
Alass! What Crimes! am I suspected then?

Lor.
No. Prov'd, Confirm'd, Recorded in my Brain.
And I will think thee Over twice a Day,
To warn me of the Dangers of thy Sex.
Suspected! Oh Hypocrisie of Hell!
Tho' thy feign'd tears have seal'd Alphonso's eyes,
With a fond Faith of Thee, thy Truth and Love:
Thou couldst not grosly think, that all the world
Lookt with dull Eyes, thro' an Eclipse, upon Thee.
But 'tis the spight and policy of Hell,
First to seduce, and tempt into the Sin,
And then betray us to the scourge and shame.

Erm.
O! I had dy'd contented with the Loss
Of my lov'd Lord.—

Lor.
Think, think on him!

Erm.
O he is never absent from my Thoughts.

Lor.
Think what a Creature he would make of thee,
Did he but barely guess at what I know.

Erm.
What is't you know?

Lor.
Away, away, vile Woman!
[She follows him weeping.
How her eyes stream! Tho' they have long prophan'd
The Sanctity, and pious use of tears;
Yet now in pity to thy Soul, if they
Weep penitence, for mercy on thy Sins,
May they still flow, and wash thy stains away.
But thou hast forc'd me from my Faith, and left
Me hoodwink't, blindly stumbling upon doubts
Of thee, and all thy Sex: Therefore away,
Leave me! be gone, Thou Woman.

Erm.
Yes, I will
To death, or banishment: But I have vow'd
Never to quit this hold, till you consent
To hear me!

Lor.
Hear you! Say I should Consent;
What can you say? nay, if you should speak truth,
(Which certainly you wo'n not) and confess
The Circumstances, how you learn't the trade,
The time and place, the Clients you have had;
Nay, and how often they have fee'd you too:
What comfort can this bring? Can this atone
For that foul Mark of shame, that Custom brands
For Womens sins, on their wrong'd Husbands Brows?

Erm.
Heaven knows how I am injur'd!

Lor.
And Heaven knows
How glad my heart would be to find you so:
But last night. Think of that.

Erm.
Alass! I do;
My grief will keep it ever in my mind.
But what? what of last night?

Lor.
Was it well spent?

Erm.
In tears and sorrow for—

Lor.
The Disappointment
Your lewd Adulterer, Alberto, met with.

Erm.
O Guard of Innocence!

Lor.
Nay, to deny it,
With Curses minted in the mouth of Hell,
May add to thy Damnation—but not clear
Thee from the living proofs, these Eyes have given me.
Last night I saw him.

Erm.
How? where?

Lor.
Like a Thief,
I saw him steal away from out your House,
And had rewarded then his Treachery,
But Conscientious Clara, scouting round,
And dreading the Event, ran in, and—

Erm.
What?
Has she been practising my ruin too?
What has she said? I see the snares are set,
And Innocence is doom'd to fall a prey
To the mad Censure of licentious Tongues,
But I defie the worst, what has she said?

Lor.
Who Madam? trusty Clara, nothing she?

Erm.
Then send for her, and wrack her for the truth;
She has a Womans weakness in her Soul,
That cannot look upon the face of Death,
Without a fear that will discover all.

Lor.
Ha! if guilty? why shou'd she invite
This tryal, that would make her falshood plain.

Erm.
If then you find me foul; if she but hint
A doubt of folly, in my course of life,
Last night, or any time, the way you mean,
By the fair hope of my eternal Soul,
I'le bow me to the Justice of your Sword,
Think you the holy Priest that offers up
My blood, to satisfie my injur'd Lord.

Lor.
I know not what to think.

Erm.
Alass my Lord!
I know you have condemn'd me in your thoughts,
And I must own,
The Circumstance shews guilty on my side.

Lor.
His entring of your house—

Erm.
At midnight too—

Lor.
Must come no doubt from some encouragement.

Erm.
Alas, I only know my Innocence!

Lor.
Well, I am satisfi'd foul play's design'd,
And Clara deals the Cards to cheat us all.

Erm.
If that were prov'd—

Lor.
I speak not yet of proof,
But when she saw Alberto joyn'd with me,
She started, with confusion in her looks,
As fearing a Discovery.

Erm.
Indeed.

Lor.
Let her not know what I have utter'd to you,
For much depends on that.

Erm.
Oh Heav'n protect the Innocent, and bring
These midnight Treacheries to open day!

Lor.
All shall be well agen, as yet your Lord
Is ignorant of what is past; nor durst
I trust his temper, left his violence
Might urge him on some desperate attempt,
To ruin all: But Madam, when he hears
From me the story of your injur'd Truth,
Swift as a Lovers Wish, expect him here:
'Tis He must prove my Advocate, and plead
A Pardon for the faults my Tongue has made.

[Exit.]
Erm.
A pardon! Oh may Heaven in Thunder send
A general pardon to the sinning World;
That every Heart may feel what mine does now;
Alphonso comes; like Natures God, he shows
In a May-morning thro' the Golden Boughs,
Crown'd with the blushing Beauties of the Spring,
Whilest Creatures of all kinds their Tributes bring,
And Birds untaught, his joyful Welcome sing.
And all my past misfortunes did but prove
The Purgatory to this Heav'n of Love.

[Exit.]