University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Roxana and Cassander.
ROXANA.
Oh you hav Ruin'd me, you've fir'd my Blood,
Said you so hot upon her!

Cas.
Strangely Hot.

Rox.
O'sbud!

Cas.
He Swounded Thrice at hearing of her Vow,
Then with unheard of Curses rail'd on you,
And call'd you nothing but a thousand Jilts, and Sow,

Rox.
Away, begon, and give a Brimstone Room,
My Back is up, my Lights and Midriff split
With the Rack, while passions like the Winds,
Up to the scones rise, and put out all your Candles.

Cass.
Let all the Lamps go out, your Eyes can Light 'em,
Waste then bright Planet, that should rule the world,
Wake like a Candle long Eclips'd in Lanthorn dark;
Tell him his own, and with a squale so loud,
That Midwives may come in,
And think you are in Labour.

Rox.
Yes, we will have Revenge my Ladds, we will,
For there is nothing you have said of me,
But comes a full Yard short of what I am,
When in my Bib and Apron I at Zogdia
Boarding-School did Learn to Dance,
O're my she Play-Fellows still I wou'd Reign,
Drew from Chalk and Oatmeal, and the Girlish Games
Of Man and Wife, and making Pyes of Dirt,
Broke all their Play-things, and their Babys tore,
Taught 'em to Ride on Five-Barr'd Gates,
To scratch and quarrel, and to Box like Draw-Men.

Cass.
Her Look, her Words, her every motion fires me,

Rox.
But when I heard of Alexander's scouring,
How with a single Cudgel he had maul'd the Watch,
And from the Round-House, freed a Nest of Whores,
VVhich for his private Tooth,
The Tyrant Constable had seiz'd;
Yet with what harmless Roguery he us'd the Drabs,
Pull'd off their Masks, and view'd their Beauties bare,
Methouhgt I hung upon my Fathers Lips,
And wish'd him tell the wanton Tale again.

Cass.
How fond the Jilt is—(aside,


Rox.
Flesh! that a Man shou'd be so great and base'
VVhat said he not, when on th'Couch i'th'Dark,
He clasp'd my yeilding Body in his Arms,
And offer'd me a Guinea to be his?
Then Talk'd, and Kiss'd, and Swore and Ly'd.

Cass.
Yet after this prove False.

Rox.
Rascal!

Cass.
O! he must be Pump't! a Person of your Quality.

Rox.
And shall the Daughter of Darius hold him,
That VVhey-Fac'd Girle, that wore her Hanging-Sleeves,
That cry'd for Milk and for a Baby,
VVhen I'd a Bastard of my own at Nurse?

Cass.
Now you appear your self—True Brimstone.

Rox.
May the young Whelp that wambles in my Guts.
And ripens to be Born a perfect Bully,
Disgrace his Mothers Blood, come forth a Cully,
May she no Caudle Drink, when e're she Crys Out,
If she don't tear the Drab, Statira's Eyes out,

Cass.
She's on her Journy to the Hogstye now.

Rox.
Nay, then I'll Rattle'r here—

Cass.
Take heed the King—

Rox.
Bow, now.

Enter Statira.
Rox.
Madam, I hope you'll think me not uncivil,
Roxana weeps to see Statira snivel;
How VVhimsical's the Queer resolve you make,
To Court a Pig-stye for great Sawney's sake,
'Tis a Revenge that's well Design'd a Dad!
And much I fear 'twill run poor Sawney mad.

Stat.
You Counterfit a fear and know too well
How much your Paints all VVashes else Excel.
Roxana, who tho' but a Cook-VVench born,
In Bridewell made the blustering Bully mourn;
Forgetting blows, when Strong-beer made him warm,
And Rampant, yet even then, you know to Charm.
Give him but Drink enough, you cannot fail
VVhile I the loss of what I Cully'd once bewail.

Rox.
I hope your Hatchet-Face will let me follow
To wait you, to the Hog-stye, where you wallow;
VVhere like th'abandon'd Sow, the loss you'll mourn
Of your perfidious Swine, and grunt alone.

Stat.
Go thou proud Flirt, and seize my Sawncy's Hand,
Both Hand and Heart were once at my Command;
Grasp his great Neck, Die on his swarthy Breast,
Jilt him like me, which cannot be express'd
He must be Buble'd, for you'll ask a Crown at least,
VVhile I in Bumpers Drink his health all Day,
Driving my busy Cares in Nant's away,
And Drink so long, 'till I cannot call to pay.

Box.
When you Retire to your Romantick Cell,
I'll make your Sollitary Hog-Sty Hell.
Poor Sow—

Stat.
What Says the Creature?

Rox.
Sow!

Stat.
'Tis very well.

Rox.
Thou shal't not Swill by Day, nor Snore by Night,
But Still Roxana shall they Slumbers fright;
Dreaming of Joys, if thou dar'st Dream of any,
Thy Ghost may think to steal a Kiss of Sawney;
But when to his Flock-Bed thy snuffing Air
Shall for a Pinch of Happiness repair;
How will thou Sneeze to find they Rival there!
How will thy Eyes run 'oer when thou shal't see
Thro' the torn Curtains that great Whelp and me
Kicking the Cloaths off, then to Kising fall,
While thou shall't swear and stamp and tear thy Coif
And Squale.

Stat.
Rival take heed, and tempt me not too farr,
My Nails can scratch, and scratching makes a Scarr.

Rox.
Lank Jaws, and I, in various Pictures drawn,
Nuzleing each other shaded o're with Lawn,
Shall be the Daily presents I will send
To help thy sorrows to their Journeys end.
And when at last we hear thy Hour draws nigh,
My Alexander, my dear Dog and I,
Will come, and crack our Jests upon they Fortune,
And Laugh! and Kiss thy Soul out thro' the Curtain.

Stat.
'Tis well, I thank thee, thou hast wak'd a Rage
VVho's Boyling now, no Ladle can aswage;
My Jealousy like thine grows hot apace,
And I dare throw a Mess on't scalding in thy Face.

Rox.
VVhat wou'd you dare?

Stat.
VVhatever you dare do,
VVith doubled fists your Lanthorn-Jaws pursue,
I am by Love a Brimstone made like you;
Scratch or be scratch'd thus acted by Dispair.

Rox.
Sure the Sow Statira do's not dare!

Stat.
Yes Flounder-Mouth'd Roxana but I dare.
Such Fish-VVife Language I n'ere gave before,
And were I not a Queen—

Rox.
A Queen, a VVhore!

Stat.
Nay then—
I'll see my Sawny spight of all I swore,
Tho, curst that thou may'st never Jilt him more.
See where he comes, the false protesting Dog,
But I'll my Airs put on, and be reveng'd o'th'Rogue.

(Enter Alexander Attended)
Atten.
Madam the Bawd your Mother and the King.

Alex.
O my Stars! O thou Cross-grain'd Quean
Turn, Turn thy Ogles on me, I would squint at them.
VVhat shall I say to put thee into Humour,
VVhat Tavern goe to, where shall we get Drunk?

Stat.
For me you shall not Drink.

Alex.
For thee I will.
Before thy Face I'll have a Hogs-Head pierc'd,
And draw it out, be droun'd in Bumpers.
Name but as the VVine goes briskly down
One dear obligeing Health, or Kiss the Glass,
Say, but 'twas pitty that so brave a Man,
VVho had Ten thousand Bottoms of a Bottle seen,
With one dear Health, so early shou'd get Drunk,
And fall a Martyr to disdainful Punk,

Rox.
Oh! Impudence! I'll be Reveng'd or Dye!
I'll have him kick't? You! Rascal who am I?

Alex.
P'shaw! prithee dear Rocky now,
Don't be troublesome, you see I'm busy.

Rox.
Rejected then! sent Supperless away!

Alex.
Get to the Rose, and call for what you please,
Pullet with Eggs, Beef-stakes, or Sausages.
Bid, Rause, send in the Bill to me, away;
Sup any where without me, and I'll pay.

Rox.
Yes, I will go, poor Scoundrel, as thou art,
Thou Tempest o'th Town; for as thy sword,
Has cut the Pates of thousand, thousand, Watch-Men,
So will thy Tongue out-scold all Womankind,
But I'll begone, this last Disdain has cur'd me,
And I am now grown so indifferent,
That I cou'd light you with a Candle to your Bed.
But do not trust me, do not; for if you do,
By all the Links and Flambeaux of Desire;
You'd better not,—
For starve my blood, I'll set you both on Fire.

Atat.
Oh Alexander! but yet I pardon thee,
Forgive thee all, by thy lew'd Life I do.

Alex.
Ha! Pardon! said'st thou, pardon me!

Sys.
Blessing on thy Heart—Oh! that's my
Own dear Statty.

Stat.
Yes, I have pardon'd you—but I'm in a huff.

Alex.
O my Hephestion, bear me or I sink.

Stat.
O Sawney! thou hast been a bitter Dog
To me—but let that pass—no matter! come
We'll Kiss at parting.

Alex.
No if I do, Rott me—why Statira, why?
What is the meaning of this fiddle, faddle,
Oh! lov'd I see you thus!—Hell is not half
The Hummums, you've given me.

Clyt.
Never did passions box it thus before.

Alex.
O I shall burst,
Unless you give me Leave to Swear a little.

Sys.
Nay, dear Statty—

Alex.
Yes, I will shake this Cupid from my Arms,
If all the Tearing of my Lungs can fright him,
I'll kick him, souse him, in a Horse-pond,
Make the Moon Drunk; and then like Æolus,
When he had nothing else to do, I'll strike
My Spear into a Reeling Fire-shovel,
To let it blood, set Babylon in a Blaze,
And drive this God of Flames with Rockets,
Squibs, and Crackers.

Stat.
'Tis Death to me, to see these Fire-works,
And since I ne're will be his Miss again,
Permit me to Remove—

[Going]
Alex.
I charge you stay her—
For if she pass, by all the Whimseys in my Brain,
I'll strip you all, your Dirty Shirts shall
Wait upon her.
O turn thee, turn, thou barbrous Gipsey turn,
Hear my last VVords, and see the oddness of my Fancy.
And now kneel all, my Fellow Rake-hells, kneel,
Yet lower, prostrate down—stand upon your
Heads ye Dogs! my Mother too! nay then—
Let the swift Sun stand still, or go about his—
Business, 'tis all one to her.
Now not a Face be shewn that is not smear'd
VVith black! Grim'd as if you'd all been sweeping Chimneys.

Stat.
Rise, may some body or other forgive you all.

Alex.
Clytus bear me hence.
When I am layd in Earth, yield her the Moon;
There's something here, that Brandy must Remove;
Burn me a Quartern quickly, farewell, odsbud for ever.

Stat.
Hold oft, and let me Ramp into his Arms.
Did you then think to Drink your Nipperkn
Without me: No thou dear bewitching Dog,
O I cou'd beg my Bread with you, Kiss me, Nussel,
Squeeze me, Rogue, till I'm black in the Face.

Alex.
O thou dear teazing Toad!
This Night I will revenge me on thy Body!
Thou shall't not Sleep nor close thy Eyes,
The Idle Hours shall all be Jok'd away;
We'll play the fool all Night, and do the the same all Day.

Stat.
Nor shall Roxana—

Al.
Let her not be Nam'd—

Stat.
Nay let her then be Damn'd

Al.
O Mother! How shall I requite your Goodness?
But if a Crown can, here; get me a Guinea Chang'd;
And you my fellow Scourers, that cou'd stand
Upon your Heads, to please my Statty,
But I invite you all, Tagg, Ragg, and Bobtail,
Without Distinction to the Riot, Come.

Cly.
Faith I'm half Fox'd already,
Prithee leave me out.

Alex.
None, none shall be excus'd,
We'll Rake it all the Day, 'tis my Command.
Gay as a Spangle'd Player Ourself will stand,
With Burning Brandy in our lifted Hand;
Then Statty, Statty, shall be Tosted round,
While damn'd dull Dances beat the burthen'd Ground,
And to Our Neighbours we'er a Nusance found.