University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Enter Mrs. Wilding and the Page.
Mrs. Wild.
Where's you master, boy?

Page.
I know not, mistress.

Mrs. Wild.
Come nearer, sirrah; you are of your master's
Council sometimes; come, be true in what
I shall desire, and I shall find a time for your reward.

Page.
How d'ye mean, mistress?
We pages meet rewards of several natures:
This great man gives us gold; that lady, gloves;
T'other, silk stockings, roses, garters: but
The lady and mistress whom we serve in ordinary,
Reserves another bounty for our closeness.

Mrs. Wild.
I see you can be a wag; but be just to me, and secret—

Page.
As your looking-glass;
That in your absence cannot be corrupted
To betray your complexion.

Mrs. Wild.
What private mistresses does master Wilding visit?

Page.
Who, my master?
Alas, forsooth, d'ye think he lets me know?

Mrs. Wild.
Nay, nay, dissemble not.

Page.
I hire a coach
Sometimes, or so, but ride always i'th' boot;
I look at nobody but the passengers.
I do not sit i'th' same box at plays with them;
I wait at tavern, I confess, and so forth;
And when he has sup'd, we must have time to eat too:
And what should I trouble my conscience
With being too officious till I am call'd for?
'Tis true, he waits upon the ladies home;
But 'tis so dark, I know not where they dwell:
And the next day we have new ones; 'las, meer strangers
To me, and I should be unmannerly
To catechize 'em. If now and then there be
Any superfluous cast waiting-woman,
There be so many serving-men about her,
I cannot come to ask a question;
And how should I know any thing?

Mrs. Wild.
I see you are old enough for vice.

Page.
Alas, forsooth,
You know 'tis ill to do a thing that's wicked,
But 'twere a double sin to talk on't too,
If I were guilty; beside forsooth, I know
You would ne'er trust me again, if I should tell you.

Mrs. Wild.
Thou art deceiv'd, it shall endear thee more.

Page.
I must beseech you
To be excus'd; my master is my master;
My feet are at your service, not my tongue:
I would not forfeit my honour for the world.

Mrs. Wild.
Hence, thou old in villainy!
But 'tis in vain to chide: leave me, and bid
Mistress Penelope come hither.

Page.
Yes, forsooth.—She is so frumpish.

[Exit.
Mrs. Wild.
I know not which way to begin: to me
He has betray'd he loves her. Here she is;
Now to the tryal.

Enter Penelope.
Pen.
Will you be sad still, cousin? Why d'ye grieve?
Be kinder to yourself. Trust me, I weep,
When I am alone, for you.

Mrs. Wild.
Sorrow and I
Are taking leave, I hope; and these are only
Some drops after the cloud has wept its violence.
Were one thing finish'd, I should ne'er be sad more;
And I cannot despair to know it done,
Since the effect depends upon your love.

Pen.
My love! 'tis justice you command my service:
I would I were so happy.

Mrs. Wild.
Make me so,
By your consent to my desire.

Pen.
Pray name it.

Mrs. Wild.
I only ask your love; pray give it me.

Pen.
My love! why do you mock my poor heart, which
Pours all it has upon you? y'are possess'd of that already.

Mrs. Wild.
You examine not
The extent of my request; for when you have
Given what I ask, your love; you must no more
Direct it as you please: the power's in me
How to dispose it.

Pen.
And you shall for ever;
I have no passion that shall not know obedience to you.

Mrs. Wild.
Your love, by gift
Made mine, I give my husband. Do you love him?

Pen.
I always did.

Mrs. Wild.
But in a nearer way:
Love him as I do?

Pen.
I understand you not; or if you do
Suspect I cherish any lawless flame—

Mrs. Wild.
Thou art too innocent: be less, and do
An act to endear us both: I know he loves thee;
Meet it, dear cuz; 'tis all I beg of thee;
I know you think it a most strange request,
But it will make me fortunate.

Pen.
Grief, I fear,
Hath made her wild.—D'ye know what you desire?

Mrs. Wild.
Yes, that you love my husband: modesty
Will not allow me to discourse my wish
In every circumstance; but think how desperate
My wound is, that would have so strange a cure.
He'll love me then; and, trust me, I'll not study
Revenge, as other wives perhaps would do,
But thank thee; and indeed an act like this,
So full of love, with so much loss and shame too
For mine and his sake, will deserve all duty.

Pen.
I have no patience to hear more; and could
I let in a thought you meant this earnest,
I should forget I knew you; but you cannot
Be fall'n from so much goodness. I confess
I have no confidence in your husband's virtue;
He has attempted me; but shall hope sooner
To leave a stain upon the sun, than bribe
Me to so foul a guilt. I have no life
Without my innocence; and you cannot make
Yourself more miserable than to wish it from me.
Oh, do not lose the merit of your faith
And truth to him, tho' he forget himself,
By thinking to relieve yourself thus sinfully:
But sure you do but try me all this while.

Mrs. Wild.
And I have found thee pure: be still preserv'd so.
But he will straggle farther—

Pen.
Cherish hope;
He rather will come back: your tears and prayers
Cannot be lost.

Mrs. Wild.
I charge thee by thy love,
Yet be rul'd by me. I'll not be so wicked
To tempt thee in a thought shall blemish thee;
But as thou would'st desire my peace, and his
Conversion, if his wantonness last with him,
Appear more tractable; allow him so much
Favour, in smile and language, that he may not
Think it impossible to prevail at last.

Pen.
This may engage him farther, and myself to a dishonour.

Mrs. Wild.
It shall work our happiness,
As I will manage things; 'tis but to seem:
A look will cost thee nothing, nor a smile,
To make his hopes more pleasing: on my life
Thou shalt be safe both in thy fame and person.
Will you do this for my sake?

Pen.
I'll refuse no danger, if I suffer not in honor,
To do you any service.

Mrs. Wild.
I have cast it
Already in my brain; but do not yet
Inquire my purpose: as his folly leads
Him to pursue you, let me know; and I'll
By fair degrees acquaint you with my plot;
Which built on no foul ends, is like to prosper;
And see, how aptly he presents himself—
Pr'ythee seem kind, and leave the rest to me.
He shall not see me,

[Exit.
Enter Wilding.
Wild.
How now, cuz, was that
My wife went off?

Pen.
Yes, sir.

Wild.
Let her go: what said she to thee?

Pen.
Nothing.

Wild.
Thou art troubled!

Pen.
Pray, to your knowledge, sir, wherein have I
Done injury to you, or her?

Wild.
Has she abus'd thee?
I'll go kick her.

Pen.
By no means, sir—I steal away your heart,
And meet at stol'n embraces?

Wild.
Does she twit thee? I'll kick her like a foot-ball,
Say but the word.

Pen.
By no means think upon't: I have forgiven her.
You sha'not, sir, so much as frown upon her;
Pray do not, as you love me; we must study
A more convenient revenge.

Wild.
How is this?
I pr'ythee, if she has been peremptory,
Which was none of our articles, let me instruct thee
How we shall be reveng'd.

Pen.
Sir, I acknowledge
The growth and expectation of my fortune
Is in your love; and tho' I would not wrong her—
And yet, to have my innocence accus'd,
Is able to pervert it. Sir, your pardon;
I have been passionate: pray love your wife.

Wild.
No, no, I'll love thee; indeed, indeed, I will.
Is she jealous?

Pen.
You know she has no cause.

Wild.
Let us be wise, and give her cause: shall's cuz?

Pen.
Sir, if I be a trouble to your house,
Your breath shall soon discharge me: I had thought
The tie of blood might have gain'd some respect.

Wild.
Discharge thee the house? I'll discharge her,
And all her generation, thee excepted;
And thou shalt do't thyself; by this, thou shalt:
[Kisses her.
Ha, she kisses with more freedom! this is better
[Aside.
Than if my wife had pleaded for me. Pen,
Thou shalt be mistress, wil't thou? come, thou shalt:
She's fit for drudgery.

Pen.
Oh, do not say so.

Wild.
Then I wo'not; but I love thee for thy spirit,
'Cause thou wilt be reveng'd. Punish her jealousy
The right way: when 'tis done, I would chuse
To tell her: it may kick up her heels another way.

Pen.
Tell her what? you make me blush.

Wild.

No, no, I'll tell nobody, by this hand, I will
not. [Kisses it]
Stay, stay, I have a diamond will become
this finger—'tis in my drawer above, I'll fetch
it strait.

Pen.

O, by no means.

Wild.

'Tis thine, 'tis thine, my girl—my soul is
thine.

[Exit.
Pen.

Indeed, Mrs. Wilding, this is going a little too
far for you—there is something so like reality in all I
have been doing, that I am more than half in a fever
with it already—this playing with fire is a very foolish
thing, but tho' I burn my fingers I must go thro'
with it.

Enter Wilding, with a ring.
Wild.

Here it is, Pen, as sparkling as thyself; wear
it, and let my Wife stare out her eyes upon't.

Pen.
I wo'not take't on such conditions.

Wild.
Take it on any, take it one any—
She's come about.

Enter Page.
Page.

Sir, Master Hazard desires your company at
the tavern—he says there are none but gentlemen of your
acquaintance, Mr. Careless, Mr. Littlestock, and Mr.
Sellaway.

Wild.

He must excuse me—get you gone.

Pen.

Stay, stay, boy—As you love me go, sir—Your
master will come. [Exit Page.]
—Have no suspicions that I
wish your absence; I'll wear your gift, and study to be
grateful.

Wild.

I'll leave my boy behind—and shou'd my wife
be set on gossiping this afternoon, pretend thou, girl,
some slight indisposition to keep at home; and when
she's gone, let me but know it, and I'll leave the happiest
run of dice to catch a moment with thee.

Pen.

I want not such strong proofs of your regard;
I will not stop your fortune.

Wild.

Then I'll not leave you now.

Pen.

You must; indeed you must—When I can oblige
you, I shall not prove ungrateful.

[Exit.
Wild.

Both wind and tide are for me!—No talk now
of wife's consent, I'll not remove my siege—When I can
oblige you!—Oh, 'twas sweetly spoken!—She is my own!
I have her sure! quite sure—Now to the tavern and drink
to the purpose.

[Exit.
SCENE, The tavern.
Enter Hazard, Acreless, Littlestock, Sellaway, and Drawer.
Haz.

More wine.

Acr.

Right, noble Hazard, here's to thee.

Haz.

Let it come, boy; fill it me steeple high, I am
in the vein of mirth, and I ha' cause, as you shall see in
due time, gentlemen. Mr. Littlestock, thou art dreaming
o'th' dice.

Sell.

He's melancholy.

Litt.

Who, I?

Haz.

I'll play the farrier then, and drench thee for the
sullens. A health to all our mistresses; we have had 'em
single, let's shuffle 'em now together. [Drinks.]
Come,
let us join a little music to our wine, and if his melancholy
stands 'em both, I'll lay all the money in my
pocket, which is no small sum, that he has a two-penny
cord about him, and will make use of it before to-morrow
morning.—Come, Tom, give us the gamester's apology,
and if these are only qualms of conscience, this song will
warm him like a dram.

SONG.

Haz.

'Tis joyous faith—I wonder Jack Wilding
stays.—He's come in the nick.

Enter Wilding.
Wild.

Save, save you, gallants; may a man come i'th'
rear.

Haz.

Give him his garnish.

Wild.

Y'are not prisoners for the reckoning, I hope.

Haz.

For the reck'ning! Now y'are all together, gentlemen,
I'll shew you a wonder—but come not too near;
keep out o'th' circle—whatsoever you think on't, this
is a hundred pound! Nay not so close; these pictures do
shew best at distance, gentlemen—You see it—Presto.

[Puts it up.
Wild.

Nay, let's see it again.

Haz.

Like to your cunning juggler, I ne'er shew my
trick but once; you may hear more hereafter; what
think you of this, Mr. Acreless, Mr. Littlestock, and Mr.
Sellaway?

Acr.

We do not believe 'tis gold.

Haz.

Perish then in your infidelity.

Wild.

Let me but touch it.

Haz.

It will endure, take my Word for it—look you,
for your satisfactions—no gloves off—you have devices to
defalk—preserve your talons, and your talents, 'till you
meet with more convenient gamesters.

Litt.
How cam'st by it?

Wild.
Thou'dst little or none this morning.

Haz.
I have bought it, gentlemen; and you in a mist,
Shall see what I paid for it. Thou hast not drank yet, Wilding,
Ne'er fear the reck'ning, man:—More wine, you varlets!

Wild.
But, hark thee, hark thee, Will, did'st win it?

Haz.
No; but I may lose it e'er I go to bed;
Do'st think't shall musty? what's a hundred pound?

Sel.
A miracle! but they are ceas'd with me.

Acr.
And me too. Come, let's drink.

Wild.
No matter how it came, Will: I congratulate
Thy fortune, and will quit thee now with good
News of myself. My cuz, I told thee of;
Is wheel'd about: she has took a ring of me;—
We kiss'd, and talk'd, time out o' mind.

Haz.
I know it;
My almanack says 'tis a good day to woo in;
Confirm'd by Erra Pater, that honest Jew too.
I'll pledge thee.

Enter Drawer.
Draw.

Mr. Hazard, there are two gentlemen below
enquire for you; and, Mr. Wilding, this note for you.

Wil.
For me?—

Haz.
What kind of men are they?

Draw.
One's somewhat ancient; I heard him call
The other nephew.

Wild.

Victoria! Victoria! Will, a summons from the
island of love—my wife's absent, and Pen and I shall toy
away an hour, without fear or molestation.

Haz.

Have a care, Jack; I love pleasure as well as thou;
but to obtain it at the expence of every virtue, is rather
paying too dear for it.

Wild.

What, a moralizing gamester! ha, ha, ha, 'tis envy,
Will, attacks thee in the shape of conscience: and was I like
the foolish dog in the fable, to catch at the shadow, and
drop my tit bit, thou wouldst be the first to snap it up—
but I have not time to laugh at thee—I must away—
the wench calls, and I must fly.

[Exit.
Haz.

This affair perplexes me—How little do we
know of women! had I had fortune enough to have ventur'd
upon marriage, I would have fixt upon this cousin
of his, preferable to the whole sex—but the devil is in
them, and will peep out one time or other—I don't
know why, but I am vex'd at this affair—I'll never go
to Wilding's house again.

Enter Drawer.
Draw.

Mr. Hazard, the gentlemen without are impatient
to see you.

Haz.

I beg their pardon, I had forgot 'em. I do caution
you, gentlemen, beforehand to be fair condition'd;
one of them, the nephew, is of a fiery constitution, and sensible
of any affront: let this character prepare him for
you.

Acr.

Bring him not hither.

Haz.

There is a necessity in it; I would not for a hundred
pound but entertain him, now he knows I am
here.

[Exit.
Sell.

Why must we keep company with his disagreeable
acquaintance?

Enter Hazard again; with Barnacle, his Nephew, and Dwindle.
Acr.
This is old Barnacle.

Lit.
And that's his nephew; I have been in his company.

Sell.
Is this the youth Hazard prepar'd us for?
How busy they are!

Haz.
You could not wish better opportunity:
These are all gentlemen of quality.
I'll call him coufin first, if it please you,
To endear him: to their acquaintance.

Bar.

I'll not be a witness of your passages myself;
these will report as much as I desire. Sir, if you be
beaten, I am satisfied.

Neph.
But d'ye hear, uncle, are you sure you have made
Your bargain wisely? they may cut my throat
When you are gone; and what are you the wiser?
Dwindle, be you close to me.

Haz.
I warrant you, we shall do things with discretion;
If he has but grace to look and talk courageously.

Bar.
He may be valiant for aught I know;
Howsoever this will be a secure way
To have him thought so, if he beat you soundly.

Neph.
I do not like the company;
But I have drank wine too, and that's the best on't;
We may quarrel on even terms. Look to't Dwindle.

Dwin.
Here's your safeguard.

[Shewing his stick.
Haz.
As I am a gentleman—be confident—
I'll wait on you down, sir.

Bar.
By no means; let him beat you to purpose, sir.

Haz.
Depend upon me.

Bar.

And when he has beat you, sir, I must beg another
favour.

Haz.

O, command me, sir.

Bar.

Courage, you know, not only keeps the men in
awe, but makes the women admire.

Haz.

What, must I pimp for your nephew too?

Haz.

Lack-a-day! no, no, no; tho' I'll let him have
his swing too—but I must marry him forthwith; and I
have one in my eye, that will fit him to a tittle.

Haz.

Who is the happy creature you have destin'd for
him?

Bar.

No less a jewel, I assure you, than your friend's
ward, Penelope; there's money and beauty enough! will
you put in a word for him?

Haz.

Both to the lady, and my friend, and immediately
too.

Bar.

Only to clear the way a little, Mr. Hazard; I
have a tongue myself, and can use it too, when once
it is set a going.

Haz.

I have heard of you at the hall.

Bar.

Nay, and my nephew can speech it too: ay, and
has your rappartees too, when he's a little in drink, and
he shan't want for that.

Haz.

You're in the right, master Barnacle, not to let
the hinges rust for want of a little oyling.

Bar.

I have another purse for you, if you'll introduce
us.

Haz.

I'll do it.

Bar.

But don't forget to be beaten tho'.

Haz.

Do you suspect my honor?

Bar.

I don't, I don't—Well, nephew, mind your
hits—Mr. Hazard, yours—I am full of joy!—and
nephew, draw blood, do you hear?

[Exit.
Neph.

Bye, nuncle.

Haz.

Come, sir; pray, gentlemen, bid my kinsman
welcome; a spark that will demand your friendship.

Sell.

His kinsman!—You are welcome.

Acr.

He has power to command your welcome.

Litt.

If I mistake not, I have had the happiness to
a'been in your company before now.

Neph.
Mine, sir?—d'ye hear, what if I quarrel'd
[Aside to Hazard.
With him first? 'twill prepare me the better.

Haz.
Do as you please; that's without my conditions.

Neph.
I'll but give him now and then a touch; I'll close
Well enough, I warrant you,—You been in my
Company, sir?

Litt.
Yes, and at the tavern.

Neph.
I paid the reck'ning then.

Litt.
You came into our room—

Neph.
Tell me of coming into your room!
I'll come again. You are a superfluous gentleman.

Litt.
How's this?

Haz.
Let him alone.

Litt.
Sir, remember yourself.

Neph.
I'll remember what I please, and forget what
I remember. Tell me of a reck'ning! what is't?
I'll pay't: no man shall make an ass of me,
Farther than I list. I care not a fiddle-stick
For any man's thund'ring: he that affronts
Me, is the son of a worm, and his father a whore.
I care not a straw, nor a broken point
For you. If any man dare drink to me,
I wo'nt go behind the door to pledge him.

Acr.
Why here's to you, sir.

Neph.
Why there's to you, sir.

Twit me with coming into a room! I could find in my
heart to throw a pottle-pot,—I name nobody—I will
kick any man down stairs, that cannot behave himself
like a gentleman. None but a slave would offer to pay
a reck'ning before me. Where's the drawer? there's a
piece at all adventures. He that is my friend, I care not
a rush; if any man be my enemy, he is an idle companion,
and I honor him with all my heart.

Sell.

This is a precious humour. Is he used to these
mistakes?

Litt.

Your kinsman gives you privilege.

Neph.

I desire no man's privilege: it skills not whether
I be kin to any man living.

Haz.

Nay, nay, cousin, pray let me persuade you.

Neph.

You persuade me! for what acquaintance? mind
your business, and speak with your taylor.

Haz.

An' you be thus rude—

Neph.

Rude, sir! what then, sir?—hold me, Dwindle.

Sell.

Nay, nay, Will, we bear with him for your sake:
He is your kinsman.

Haz.
I am calm again:
Cousin, I am sorry any person here
Hath given you offence.

Neph.
Perhaps, sir, you
Have given me offence. I do not fear you.
I have knock'd as round a fellow in my days.

Haz.
And may again—

Sell.

Be knock'd! A pox upon him: I know not what
to make of him.

Haz.
Let me speak a word in private, sir,

Neph.
I can be as private as you, sir.

Haz.
Strike me a box o'th' ear presently.

Neph.
There's my hand on't—

[Strikes him.
Sall.
Nay, nay, gentlemen—

Acr.
Mr. Hazard—

Neph.
Let him call me to account: the reck'ning's paid.
Come, Dwindle—Veni, vidi, vici. Huzza!

[Exit.
Sell.
The fellow's mad: does he often mistake thus?

Haz.

His courage is a little hard mouth'd, it runs
away with him now and then; we must exchange a thrust
or two; after bleeding he'll be cool.

Sell.

The youth has a mind to shew himself; he is just
launch'd into life.

Litt.

He'll be soon launch'd out of it agen, if he goes
on in this way.

Haz.

Prithee let's have no more of him; I shall undertake
to cure his fever—But, harkee, friends, shall we
meet at the old place this evening?

Sell.

By all means, there will be deep play, I hear—
my water mark is but low; but I'll go as deep as I can.
Will not Wilding be of our party too?

Haz.

No, no; he has a love-matter upon his hands.

Sell.

A love-matter! let him but hear the rattling of
the dice, and it will bring him from the arms of the finest
woman in the kingdom.

Haz.

Pooh, pooh! you carry this too far.

Sell.

I know him in this particular better than you Hazard
—when he is in the circle of the gaming-table, 'tis
all magic, he has not power to move; and I challenge
the devil to bait his hook with a stronger temptation to
draw him out of it—besides, among ourselves, what was
once with him occasional pleasure, is now become a necessary
occupation: Jack Wilding has made a large gap
in the widow's jointure.

Haz.

Pshaw! rot your gossiping, don't abuse the generous

wine you: have been drinking, by mixing such
scandal as this with it—stay till you get with your mistresses
over their ratasia, and when you're maulding open
the sluices of slander;—However we'll try the experiment;
I'll meet you in the evening, and we'll write to
him from the field of battle, and see to which his courage
most inclines:

From love to gaming we'll his heart entice,
But woman will prevail,—

Sell.
—I say the dice.