 | The Fatal Marriage : or, the Innocent Adultery |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter Villeroy and Carlos.Carl.
The Part I act in your Interest, goes against
The grain of my good Nature and Conscience:
But since 'tis necessary to your Service;
And will be my Sister's advantage in the end
I'm better reconcil'd to't.
Vil.
My Interest!
O never think I can intend to raise
An Interest from Isabella's wrongs.
Your Father may have interested ends,
In her undoing: but my heart has none.
Her Happiness must be my Interest,
And that I wou'd restore.
Carl.
Why so I mean.
These hardships that my Father lays upon her,
I'm sorry for; and wish I cou'd prevent:
But he will have his way. Since there was nothing to be
hop'd from her prosperity, the change of her Fortune may
alter the condition of her thoughts, and make at last for
you.
Vil.
She is above her Fortune.
Carl.
Try her agen. Women commonly love according
to the circumstances they are in.
Vil.
Common VVomen may.
Carl.
Since you are not accessary to the Injustice, you may
be perswaded to take the advantage of other Peoples
Crimes.
Vil.
I must despise all those advantages,
That indirectly can advance my love.
No, tho' I live but in the hopes of her;
And languish for th'enjoyment of those hopes.
Of what I wish, than have the Blessing mine,
From any reason, but consenting Love.
O! let me never have it to remember;
I cou'd betray her, coldly to comply:
When a clear, generous choice bestows her on me,
I know to value the unequal'd Gift:
I wou'd not have it, but to value it.
Carl.
Take your own way: remember,
What I offer'd, came from a Friend.
Vil.
I understand it so. I'le serve her for her self,
Without the thought of a Reward.
[Exit.
Car.
Agree that point between you.
If you marry her any way, you do my business.
Enter Frederick and Jaqueline to him.
Fred.
Well, all goes well, I hope.
Carl.
As I cou'd wish. I can't stay with you: I must
be near, if occasion be, to lend a helping hand: When
this Marriage is over, I design to come in for a snack of
Fernando's Family.
[Exit.
Fred.
The more the merrier, his VVife says.
I hope to dispose of the Daughter my self.
Jaq.
You Men of Intrigue are commonly lookt upon to
be the idle part of Mankind, that have nothing to do: now
I am of a contrary Opinion—
Fred.
Why so, Jaqueline?
Jaq.
Because a right good Whoremaster is never at the
end of his business.
Enter Fabian in a Fryar's Habit.
Fred.
How! Fabian turn'd Fryar!
Fab.
As you see, Frederick; you will all come to a serious
sense of your Sins, one time or other, as I have
done. I have had a good Father, and I have been an
to make him what satisfaction I can, for my past faults,
I have taken this Habit, with an intention to pray for
him—
Fred.
Why thou art not mad, Fabian?
Fab.
Not mad of a Monastery, I assure you. I am never
the nearer being a Saint, for putting on the Habit of
Piety: the Profession and the practice of it are two things
in the Schools; and wise Men distinguish 'em into several
Interests. In short, I have told our honest Abbot the whole
History of my Father's Jealousie, Covetousness, and Hardheartedness
to his VVife and Children: He, good Man,
making it a point of Conscience to contribute as much as
he can to a Work of Charity, has giv'n me leave to put
on this Habit, for the carrying on the method of his
Cure.
Fred.
But what do you propose by this?
Fab.
Why, I propose that every body shall be the better
for it, but my Father. For, upon the credit of this
my Reformation, believing, from my Cloathing, that I
shall have no more occasion for the Transitory things of
this VVorld, his Pocket will plead for me, and the old
Fellow take me into favour agen.
Fred.
That's something indeed.
Fab.
Then, in the first place, if you miscarry to Night
in your design upon my Sister, I shall be able to deliver
a Letter, and bring it about another time.
Fred.
Very well.
Fab.
Secondly, I intend to put the means honestly into
my Mother's hands, to make my Father a Cuckold, if
she pleases.
Jaq.
These are very good reasons indeed, Sir.
Fab.
Besides these advantages to the Publick, I have a
private reason of my own, to be reveng'd upon the Person
of the old Gentleman. I must not discover too much
of my contrivance, for fear of lessening the pleasure in
bringing it about—
when there's no danger: I think that's pretty
near your Character, Jaqueline.
Jaq.
O, Sir, you do me too much Honour.
Fab.
Can't you spare him a little?
Fred.
Not well to Night: to Morrow—
Fab.
Will do my business. I have one part of my
Farce, the Fryars will scruple a little: Jaqueline must act
that: The whole Fraternity are concern'd in my Plot, I
assure you.
Jaq.
I'm glad to hear that, Sir; I love a Plot where
the Clergy's concern'd: They will always be sure of the
Benefit, without the danger of the beating: I am mainly of
their Principles.
Fab.
I am something in haste at present:
To Morrow you shall know more.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2.
Isabella's House.Isabella and Nurse, Isabella's little Son at Play upon the Floor.
Isa.
Sooner, or later, all things pass away,
And are no more: The Beggar and the King,
With equal steps, tread forward to their end:
Tho' they appear of different Natures now;
Not of the same days work of Providence;
They meet at last: the reconciling Grave
Swallows Distinction first, that made us Foes,
Then all alike lie down in peace together.
When will that hour of Peace arrive for me!
In Heav'n I shall find it—not in Heav'n,
If my old Tyrant Father can dispose
Of things above—but, there, his Interest
May be as poor as mine, and want a Friend
As much as I do here.
[Weeping.
Nurs.
Good Madam, be comforted.
Do I deserve to be this out-cast VVretch?
Abandon'd thus, and lost? but 'tis my Lot,
The VVill of Heav'n, and I must not complain:
I wonnot for my self: let me bear all
The violence of your VVrath; but spare my Child:
Let not my Sins be visited on him:
They are; they must; a general Ruine falls
On every thing about me: Thou art lost,
Poor Nurse, by being near me.
Nurs.
I can work, or beg to do you service.
Isa.
Cou'd I forget
What I have been, I might the better bear
What I am destin'd to: I'm not the first
That have been wretched: but to think how much
I have been happier!—VVild hurrying thoughts
Start every way from my distracted Soul,
To find out hope; and only meet Despair.
What answer have I?
[Sampson enters.
Sam.
Why truly very little to the purpose: Like a Jew
as he is, he says, you have had more already, than the
Jewels are worth: he wishes you wou'd rather think of
redeeming 'em, than expect any more Mony upon 'em.
Isa.
'Tis very well—
[Exit Sampson.
So: Poverty at home, and Debts abroad!
My present Fortune bad; my hopes yet worse!
What will become of me!—
This Ring is all I have left of value now:
'Twas giv'n me by my Husband: his first Gift
Upon our Marriage: I have always kept it,
With my best care, the Treasure next my Life:
And now but part with it, to support Life,
Which only can be dearer. Take it, Nurse,
'Twill stop the cries of hunger for a time;
Provide us Bread; and bring a short Reprieve,
To put off the bad day of Beggery,
That will come on too soon. Take care of it:
Manage it, as the last remaining Friend, that would relieve
us.
[Exit Nurse.]
Heaven can only tell where we shall find
another.—My dear Boy!
Than of my Fondness now; my fears for him
Are more, than in that hour of hovering Death,
They cou'd be for my self.—He minds me not.
His little sports have taken up his thoughts:
O may they never feel the pangs of mine.
Thinking will make me Mad: Why must I think?
When no thought brings me comfort.
Nurse returns.
Nurse.
O Madam! You are utterly ruin'd, and undone.
Your Creditors of all kinds are come in upon you:
They have muster'd up a Regiment of Rogues,
That are come to plunder your House, and seize
Upon all you have in the World, They are
Below, what will you do, Madam?
Isa.
Do! Nothing, no, for I am born to suffer.
Carlos enters to her.
Car.
O Sister! Can I call you by that name,
And be the Son of this inhumane Man,
Inveterate to your ruine? Do not think
I am a-kin to his Barbarity:
I must abhor my Fathers usage of you.
And from my bleeding honest Heart, must pity,
Pity your lost Condition. Can you think
Of any way, that I may serve you in?
But what enrages most my sense of grief,
My sorrow for your wrongs, is, that my Father,
Fore-knowing well the Storm that was to fall,
Has order'd me, not to appear for you.
Isa.
I thank your pity; my poor Husband fell
For disobeying him: Do not you stay
To venture his displeasure too for me.
Car.
You must resolve on something.—
[Exit.
Isa.
Let my Fate
Determine for me; I shall be prepar'd.
When once it comes to that, it matters not
Which way 'tis brought about:
Whether I Starve, or Hang, or Drown, the end is still the same;
Plagues, Poison, Famine, are but several names
Of the same thing, and all conclude in Death.
—But sudden Death! O for a sudden Death,
To cheat my Persecutors of their hopes,
The expected pleasure of beholding me
Long in my pains, lingring in misery.
It wonnot be; that is deny'd me too.
Hark, they are coming; let the Torrent roar:
It can but overwhelm me in its fall;
And Life, and Death are now alike to me.
[Exeunt, the Nurse leading the Child.
Scene opens, and shews Carlos and Villeroy with the Officers.
Vil.
No farther Violence—
The Debt in all is but 4 thousand Crowns;
Were it ten times the sum, I think you know
My Fortune very well can answer it.
You have my word for this: I'll see you paid
Offi.
That's as much as we can desire:
So we have the Money, no matter whence it comes.
Vil.
To Morrow you shall have it.
Car.
Thus far all's well.—
[Enter Isabella, Nurse with the Child.
And now my Sister comes to crown the work.
[Aside.
Isa.
Where are these rav'ning Blood-hounds, that pursue
In a full cry, gaping to swallow me?
I meet your Rage, and come to be devour'd:
Say, which way are you to dispose of me?
To Dungeons, Darkness, Death.
Car.
Have Patience.
Isa.
Patience!
Offi.
You'l excuse us; we are but in our Office:
Debts must be paid.
Isa.
My Death will pay you all.
[Distractedly.
Offi.
While there is Law to be had,
People will have their own.
'Tis very fit they should; but pray begone.
To morrow certainly—
[Exeunt Officers.
Isa.
What of to morrow?
Am I then the sport,
The Game of Fortune, and her laughing Fools?
The common spectacle, to be expos'd
From day to day, and baited for the mirth
Of the lewd Rabble? must I be reserv'd
For fresh Afflictions?
Vil.
For long happiness of Life, I hope.
Isa.
There is no hope for me.
The Load grows light, when we resolve to bear:
I'm ready for my Tryal.
Car.
Pray be calm, and know your Friends.
Isa.
My Friends! Have I a Friend?
Car.
A faithful Friend; in your extreamest need
Villeroy came in to save you.—
Isa.
Save me! How?
Car.
By satisfying all your Creditors.
Isa.
Which way? for what?
Vil.
Let me be understood,
And then condemn me: You have giv'n me leave
To be your Friend; and in that only name,
I now appear before you. I could wish,
There had been no occasion of a Friend;
Because I know you shy to be oblig'd;
And still more loath to be oblig'd by me.
Isa.
'Twas that I would avoid—
[Aside.
Vil.
I'm most unhappy, that my Services
Can be suspected, to design upon you;
I have no farther ends than to redeem you
From Fortunes wrongs; to shew my self at last,
What I have long profess'd to be, your Friend:
Allow me that; and to convince you more,
That I intend only your interest,
Forgive what I have done, and in amends
(If that can make you any, that can please you)
I'll tear my self for ever from my hopes;
That has so long broke out to trouble you:
And mention my unlucky love no more.
Isa.
This generosity will ruine me.—
[aside.
Vil.
Nay, if the blessing of my looking on you,
Disturbs your peace, I will do all I can
To keep away; and never see you more.
Car.
You must not go.
Vil.
Could Isabella speak
Those few short words, I should be rooted here;
And never move but upon her Commands.
Car.
Speak to him, Sister, do not throw away
A Fortune that invites you to be happy.
In your Extremity he begs your Love;
And has deserv'd it nobly. Think upon
Your lost condition, helpless, and alone.
Tho' now you have a Friend, the time must come
That you will want one; him you may secure
To be a Friend, a Father, Husband to you.
Isa.
A Husband!
Car.
You have discharg'd your duty to the Dead,
And to the Living: 'Tis a willfulness
Not to give way to your necessities,
That force you to this Marriage
Nurse.
What must become of this poor Innocence?
[to the Child.
Car.
He wants a Father to protect his Youth,
And rear him up to Virtue. You must bear
The future blame, and answer to the World,
When you refuse the easie honest means
Of taking care of him.
Nur.
Of him, and me, and every one, that must depend upon you,
Unless you please now to provide for us, we must all perish.
Car.
Nor would I press you—
Isa.
Do not think I need your reasons, to confirm my gratitude.
I have a Soul, that's throughly sensible.
Of your great worth; and busie to contrive,
[to Villeroy.
If possible, to make you a return.
Vil.
O! Easily possible!
It cannot be, your way: my Pleasures are
Buried, and cold in my Dead Husbands Grave.
And I should wrong the truth, my self, and you,
To say that I can ever love again.
I owe this declaration to my self:
But as a proof that I owe all to you,
If after what I have said, you can resolve
To think me worth your love—where am I going?
You cannot think it; 'tis impossible.
Vil.
Impossible!
Isa.
You should not ask me now, nor should I grant.
I am so much oblig'd, that to consent
Wou'd want a name to recommend the Gift.
'Twould shew me poor, indebted, and compell'd,
Designing, mercenary, and I know
You wou'd not wish to think I could be bought.
Vil.
Be bought! where is the price that can pretend
To bargain for you? Not in Fortunes power.
The Joys of Heav'n and Love, must be bestow'd:
They are not to be sold, and cannot be deserv'd.
Isa.
Some other time I'll hear you on this subject.
Vil.
Nay, then there is no time so fit for me.
[following Her.
Since you consent to hear me, hear me now;
That you may grant: You are above
The little forms, which circumscribe your Sex.
We differ but in time, let that be mine.
Isa.
You think fit
To get the better of me, and you shall;
Since you will have it so—I will be yours.
Vil.
I take you at your word.
Isa.
I give you all,
My hand; and would I had a heart to give:
But if it ever can return again, 'tis wholly yours.
Vil.
O extasie of Joy!
Leave that to me. If all my Services,
If prosperous Days, and kind indulging Nights,
If all that Man can fondly say, or do,
Can beget Love, Love shall be born again.
And Nurse, I have Eternal thanks for thee.
Send for the Priest—
[Nurse goes out in haste.
This Night you must be mine.
Let me command in this, and all my Life
Shall be devoted to you.
Isa.
On your word
Never to press me to put off these Weeds,
Which best become my melancholly thoughts
You shall command me.
Vil.
Witness Heav'n and Earth
Against my Soul, when I do any thing
To give you a disquiet
Car.
I long to wish you Joy.
Vil.
You'l be a Witness of my Happiness.
Car.
For once I'll be my Sisters Father,
And give her to you.
Vil.
Next my Isabella,
Be near my Heart: I am for ever yours.
[Exeunt.
SCENE the Street before Fernando's House.
Enter Frederick and Jaquelin, with a Dark Lanthorn, and a Ladder of Ropes.
Fred.
Well! This is the time; and that's the Window.
Jaq.
And here is a Ladder, to put her in mind of her fortune.
Fred.
How's that, Sirrah?
Jac.
Why, Lord, Sir, if the Gentlewoman be Mad enough
to run away from her Father, upon your account, she'l carry
the frolick a little farther, in a Fortnight, and hang her self,
upon her own.
Fred.
Why, you Rogue, I'm in love with her.
Jaq.
I am but your poor Servant, Sir, and if you command
me to be believe you, 'tis another thing.
Fred.
In what, Sir?
In a Week, Sir; but that's her business, and not mine;
unless the spirit of her Revenge, rises upon the folly of her
Pride, and frightens her into the consideration of your humble
Servant, Jaqueline,
Fred.
O! You are witty, Sir! The Window opens.
[Victoria above, a Night-Gown over her Mans Cloaths.
Vict.
I heard a noise: I'll listen.
Fred.
Victoria!—
Vict.
Here am I, expecting the good hour.
Boy or Girl, chuse you whether,
So we once but come together.
Jaq.
Here's your Deliverance in a Halter, Madam,
A Ladder of Ropes for you.
[Thrown up to her.
Jaq.
I had rather have it in a Halter,
Than stay where I am: Give it me.
Fred.
Be sure you 'fasten it above.
Vict.
Any thing to get loose below.
Jaq.
O the discretion of a Girl! She will be a Slave to any
thing, that has not a title to make her one. If my Master
does commit Matrimony, which he is not much addicted to,
'tis but changing a Father for a Husband: removing from
one Prison to another; but that has an appearance of Liberty
for the time; tho' it ends in a worse confinement at last.
Vict.
Well! The Ladder that is to convey me, is ready;
But before I part with this World, 'twould be
But reasonable to have a little Consolation,
To encourage my Journey to the next.
What am I to trust to, when I come there?
Jaq.
My Master, Madam; what should you trust to?
You can't trust an honester Gentleman, who, to my knowledge,
will more infallibly break his word with you.
[aside.
Fred.
What should you trust to, but your self, Child?
Rely upon your beauty: 'twere a disparagement
Of that, to talk of Conditions, when you are
certain of making your own terms.
Vict.
Nay, now is my time indeed; and 'twill be my
Own fault, if I don't: I shall shift, as my Neighbours
Daughters have done before me, if I am left
Fred.
Why my particular is at your Service, and pray come
down, and be satisfied; Lord, here's such a-do to perswade a
Woman to her Liberty.
Vict.
I'm answer'd, I'm answer'd, and coming down as fast
as I can: any thing to get rid of this Father.
Fernando enters to her Arm'd, and turns her away from the Window.
Fern.
Say you so, Gentlewoman?
Vict.
Undone, and ruin'd! what shall I do?
Fern.
I'll tell you what you shall do; get you in, Hussy,
go.—Now will I personate this hopeful young Jade; and,
by that means, discover the whole Intrigue.
Jaq.
What's that!
Fred.
What's what? where?
Jaq.
There's certainly a noise at the Window above.
I'll turn the blind side of my Lanthorn,
For fear of being discover'd.
Fred.
You Blockhead, the noise was in the Street.—
Victoria.—
[calling her.
Fern.
Ay, ay.
Where are you, my Dear.
Fern.
I am here, my Dear.
Jaq.
Are you sure you are there, Madam? For my heart
misgives me plaguily about this Father of yours.
Fern.
Does it so, Rogue enough?
[aside.
Jaq.
You had best make haste: Old Argus will have an
Eye upon you, and then—
Fred.
You'l slip your Opportunity.
Fern.
I'll lay hold ont—and your Ears, when I
come within reach of 'em.
[aside.
Fred.
Are you coming?
Fern.
Now, speak softly.
[Fernando goes down the Ladder.
Fred.
Look you to the Ladder:
I'll call the Chair to carry her off.
[Exit.
Jaq.
I'll lead you to my Master, Madam;
Pray give me your hand
There 'tis for you—
[Strikes him.
Jaq.
By my troth, and so 'tis; but not quite so soft, as
might be expected from a Lady: Sure you, or I, are mistaken,
Madam.
Mercy upon me! what do I see!
Fern.
Why, what do you see? You see the Party you expected
to see; don't you, Sirrah?
Jaq.
The Devil, the Devil, the Devil.
[Crying out, and running about.
Fern.
You lye, you lye, like a Rogue,
I am none of the Devil; but I will make a Devil of you before
I have done with you: I'll disappoint you of a Halter,
and send you a nearer way than you thought of.
[Presenting a Blunderbuss at him, Jaqueline falls, Frederick runs and Disarms Fernando.
Fred.
Deliver us from a Blunderbuss.
Jaq.
O Lord, Sir, a thousand thanks to you: I am not
perfectly satisfy'd whether he has kill'd me, or no; But if I
am Dead, I shall be glad to hear the Old Rogue was hang'd
for me.
Fred.
Who are you, that wou'd Murder my Servant?
Fern.
One that wou'd do as much for his Master.
Jaq.
Oh! he's the Devil of a Fellow; take care of him.
Fred.
Fernando! how came you here?
Fern.
Why your Mistress, and my damn'd Daughter, not
being quite ready to run away with you, desir'd me to make
her excuse, and come down in her room to receive you.
Jaq.
My reception was a little extraordinary: Pox take
you.
Fern.
I beg your Pardon, Gentlemen, I am a little unprovided
at present to entertain you; but my Servants are up in
the House, I'll get them together as fast as I can; and then
you shall be sure of a welcom.
Fred.
Unlucky Disappointment!
Fern.
No, no, no disappointment in the World: Stay but
a little, I'll bring my Daughter my self to you; you shan't
be disappointed.
How's this! my Door open! and a Man come out of my
House! Who are you? What wou'd you have? Thieves!
Thieves! lay hold upon him: I charge you in the Kings Name
to secure him—Thieves, Thieves—
[Calling out.
Vict.
As you are Gentlemen protect me; I am no Thief.
Fred.
How do we know that, Friend? 'Tis very suspicious.—
Fern.
Ay, ay, they are your Accomplices—I shall be
with you—Thieves, Thieves.
[Goes in.
Vict.
If you don't find me worth your protection, when
you know me, do what you please with me.
Jaq.
That's fair enough, Sir, we had best draw off in time;
the House will rise upon us.
Fred.
A Pox on this unlucky adventure. Poor Victoria, she
must pay for all.
[Exeunt.
Fernando returns.
Fern.
Fire, fire, you'll be burnt in your Beds; will no Body
come to me?—Thieves, Thieves.
[Several servants run in.
Serv.
Where, where?
Fern.
How came my Doors open? Where's my Wife? Bid
my Daughter come down. I have lost—I don't know
what I have lost. They may be Plotters against the Government
for ought I know; run every way to apprehend 'em.
[Servants run about the Stage.
Serv.
This way, this way.
[Exeunt.
The Scene changes; Enter Frederick, Victoria, and Jaquiline.
Jaq.
A little of the Old Rogues broad Gold would have
purchas'd your Pardon if you had Robb'd him: I was in hopes
of a snack of the Plunder.
Vict.
My design lay another way, I assure you.
Fred.
But that we must not enquire into.
Vict.
Why, faith, yes, If you please. I am so much oblig'd
to you for my Deliverance, I'll make nothing a Secret to you.
Fred.
Nay, Sir, if it be a Secret—
Jaq.
'Twere not worth telling, Sir, if it were not a Secret.
Vict.
It is a Secret, indeed, as every thing ought to be, when
there's a Woman in the case.
Fred.
Is there a VVoman in the case then?
A very pretty Woman; but you are a Man of Honor—
Jaq.
That he is upon my word, Sir; my Master is as
good at a Ladies Secret as you can be, and will betray it to
no body—before he has discover'd it himself.
[Aside.
Vict.
And therefore I will honestly own to you, that my
business was with Victoria, Fernando's Daughter.
Fred.
With Victoria!
Jaq.
This Fool will discover himself to his Rival.
[Aside.
Fred.
Does Victoria know of your business?
Vict.
Know of my business! Why I make Love to her. I
have had an Intrigue with her these three months: I am almost
tir'd of her. I lye with her every Night in her Fathers
House, and the Devil's in't if she is not acquainted with my
business.
Jaq.
It must be your fault, if she is not, that's certain.
Vict.
Now you must know her Father is Jealous of every
body for her, but me; there's one Frederick has a design upon
her, she has given him some Encouragement of late, for the
sake of her Liberty. I thank her, she has thought him fitter
for the Fortune of her Husband than I shou'd be; she designs
to Marry him, good Man, for her convenience; and I am to
continue upon all occasions of Pleasure, as I tell you, Sir,
her Ladiships humble Servant.
Fred.
You will have a rare time on't with this Fool of a
Husband.
Vict.
I shall manage him, I warrant you; do you know
him?
Fred.
I have seen him.
Jaq.
I have the Honour to know him a little too.
[Pulling his master by the sleeve.
Vict.
And what do you think of him?
Does he promise to be a Cuckold by his Countenance?
Fred.
Why, faith, no, I thought not.
Jaq.
But there's no faith in Faces, you know, Sir.
Fred.
It seems so indeed by what this Gentleman has told
us; but Sir, do you know your Cuckold? This Frederick?
Vict.
Ay, Sir, I know him.
Fred.
Hold up your Lanthorn Jaqueline.
[The Lanthorn held up to Frederick's face.
Vict.
Bless me! who are you?
That very Man, the Frederick you speak of; your
Cuckold that is to be.
Vict.
Say you so, Sir, why then you are oblig'd to me for
telling your Fortune beforehand; you may avoid it if you
please; I have giv'n you warning.
Fred.
But I must reward you for your care of me.
Jaq.
'Tis a pretty impudent Fellow, and I'm sorry for
him.
[Aside.
Fred.
Look you, Sir, if I believ'd any thing that you have
said of Victoria, I wou'd not think you worth a beating upon
her account: I wou'd leave you to your Vanity, and her to
the folly of throwing her self away upon such a Rascal; but
I know you lye; yet I'll use you better than you deserve—
Draw—
[Draws.
Vict.
Not in the dark; besides you are two to one. I
scorn to recant what I said; and to morrow as soon as you
please—
Fred.
I shan't part with you so, you shall go home with me
to Night, that I may be sure of you in the Morning.
Vict.
With all my heart; you know me well enough, and
when you see my face—
Fred.
Pray let us see it—
[Jaqueline holds the Lanthorn to her face.
Vict.
You will believe that I am more—
a—Woman of Honour, than to refuse
[In a soft voice.
a Gentleman any reasonable satisfaction.
Fred.
May I believe my Eyes! Victoria!
Vict.
Now I won't part with you, Sir, what say you?
Shall I go home with you to Night, that you may be sure of
me in the Morning?
Fred.
I will be sure of thee to Night, Child.
Vict.
No, not to Night; nothing in the dark, as I told
you before.
Fred.
I am confounded at your escape; your manner of making
it; your Fathers coming down upon us; your Mans
Clothes; and a—
Vict.
Never wonder at a Womans Invention: We have Wit
enough for our own Affairs, I warrant you. In a design of
pleasing our selves, you find, one way or other we bring it
about.
You have play'd the Rogue with me, Victoria, but I
shall be reveng'd of you.
Vict.
Why, you won't offer to Marry sure, after the character
you have had of me?
Fred.
I have had fair warning indeed, but he must have more
Grace than I, who can take warning of any thing he has a
mind to.
Vict.
Marriage is a bold venture at the best.
Fred.
But where we please our selves we venture least.
| The Fatal Marriage : or, the Innocent Adultery | |