University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

Enter Wilding and Penelope.
Wilding.
What need you be so coy now?

Pen.
Pray collect
Yourself; remember what you are, and whose:
You have a virtuous gentlewoman; think
Upon your faith to her.

Wild.
Think of a fiddle-stick!
While you put me in mind of what I am,
You quite forget yourself. My wife I allow
Your kinswoman far off; to whom, a widow,
Your father left you, with a handsome fortune;
Which, by her marriage, I have in possession,
And you too: therefore, as you hope to be
In due time worth a husband, think upon't.
I can deserve respect; then wisely use me,
As you would keep me.

Pen.
This is but a trial
Of my strength; for I know you have more charity,
(Should I consent) than shipwreck your own honour.
But take heed, sir, how you proceed to jest
With frailty; lest too much disordering
Your good thoughts, you forget, and by degrees
Lose your own innocence.

Wild.
I jest? you'd have me swear:
And yet you should not think it such a wonder
To love, sure. Come, shake off this frost; it spoils thee;
Your nature should be soft and flexible.
Perhaps, thou think'st—I do not love thee heartily:
I know not how to give thee better testimony,
Than by offering myself to thee: if my wife die,
(As ten to one she's not immortal) we
May couple t'other way.

Pen.
What argument is this
To assure the truth of your affection to me,
That break your vows to her?

Wild.
Oh! great argument,
An you observe: she was a widow, when
I marry'd her; thou'rt a young maid, and handsome.

Pen.
Can you be so ungrateful then, to punish
Whom you should reward? Remember, sir, she brought you
That wealth you have; took you from nothing—

Wild.
There's reason then for nothing I should love her.
Hang her estate! I was held a proper man;
And in that point deserv'd her, an' she had millions:
An' I were free again, I would not draw
I'th'team of marriage, for ten subsidies;
Not to command a province.

Pen.
Yet you said,
Were your wife dead, you'd marry me.

Wild.
Only thee, and no body else.

Pen.
'Twere dangerous to have many.

Wild.
To have one, is little less than madness come, wo't promise?

Enter Mrs. Wilding. (behind)
Pen.
What?

Wild.
A'course you know my meaning.

Mrs. Wil.
I do not like this whispering; why with her
So close in parly?

Wild.
Wo't thou do this feat for me?
'Tis finish'd in a pair of minutes.

Pen.
Yes, upon one condition.

Wild.
What condition?

Pen.
That your wife give consent; you shall then command me.

[Exit Pen.
Wild.
I'll undertake to go a pilgrimage
To Jerusalem, and return sooner. Wou'd
I did not love thee, love thee infinitely—
That's all; 'tw'nnot do—My wife!—I hope
She has not eaves-dropp'd us. What pity 'tis
She cannot find the way to heav'n? I should not
Trouble her in haste. These wives will have no conscience,
But stick to us everlastingly! Now, lady,
How did your monkey rest last night? you look
As you had not said your prayers yet; I won't disturb you.

Mrs. Wild.
Pray, sir, stay; let me but know
Some reason, why you use me thus unkindly?
If I have been guilty of offence, I am not
Past hope, but with the knowledge of my error
'Tis possible I may amend and please you.

Wild.
I do not like you.

Mrs. Wild.
You did marry me.

Wild.
Yes, I did marry you; here's too much record for't.
I would there were a parson to unmarry us!
If any of our clergy had that faculty,
He might repair the old, and build as many
New abbeys through the kingdom, in a twelve-month.
Shall I speak truth? I never much affected thee:
I married thee for thy soul's sake, not thy body:
Yet I do not hate thee: Witness, I dare kiss;
Hold thee by the hand, sleep in the same house,
Nay, in the same bed sometimes; but—

Mrs. Wild.
What, sir?

Wild.
You have a scurvy quality, wife; I told you on't.

Mrs. Wild.
Once more; and I'll correct it.

Wild.
You are given to be jealous. I cannot
Ramble abroad in gentlemen's company
Whole days, lie out a nights, but you suspect
I am wanton. 'Tis ill done; it becomes no modest
Woman that loves her husband, to be jealous,
Whate'er she sees or hears; mend, mend this fault,
You do not know how it may work upon me.
Some wives will bid their husband's leverets welcome;
Nay, keep house together; but you ne'er did it:
Know their own chamber, and not come forth
'Till they be sent for. These morals I have read
Before now, but you put them not in practice;
Nor, for ought I perceive, have disposition to't:
Therefore I'll take my course.

Mrs. Wild.
To shew I can
Be obedient to my griefs; from this time, sir,
I wo'not urge with one unwelcome syllable,
How much I am neglected; I'll conceal it
Too from the world: your shame must needs be mine.
I see you do not love me; where your heart
Hath plac'd a worthier thought, let it dwell ever;
Freely pursue your pleasures; I will have
No passion that shall mutiny; you are,
And shall be lord of me still.

Wild.
I like this, if it be no disguise.

Mrs. Wild.
Do not suspect me;
I would swear by a kiss, if you'd vouchsafe it;
You shall not keep a servant, that shall be more humble.

Wild.
And obedient to my will?

Mrs. Wild.
In all things.

Wild.
I'll try you then.
[Aside.
But if I bring home a mistress—

Mrs. Wild.
I'll be patient.

Wild.
What if there be one
Already, that does please me? will you not
Repine, and look awry upon's, when we
Make much of one another?

Mrs. Wild.
So you will but sometimes smile on me too, I'll endeavour.

Wild.
Well said, this may do good upon me; as
I find you prompt in this, I may consider
Other matters: to tell you true, I like
Your kinswoman.

Mrs. Wild.
How!

Wild.
How? why as a man shou'd like her; but
I find her cold and peevish. How she may
Be brought about, I know not. 'Twould shew well,
And be a precedent for other wives,
If you would put your help to't.

Mrs. Wild.
Goodness bless me!

Wild.
One woman with another can do more,
In such a cause, than twenty men. I do not
Wander, you see, out of the blood; this will
Be a way to justify your obedience.

Mrs. Wild.
You shew a tyrant now; and, stead of framing
My soul to patience, murder both.

Wild.

Nay, nay, child, if you are out of humour
at trifles, I must leave you.—

[Going.
Mrs. Wild.

Stay, sir.

Wild.

Not now, my dear—when you are cool
again, you may expect me.

[Exit singing.
Mrs. Wild.

This is not to be borne; my patience
is worn out; and, one way or other, I must have
some respite to my tortures.

[Exit.
SCENE, the street.
Wilding, solus.
Wild.

I have gone too far, a conscience—this may
spoil all; and, now I think upon't, I was a coxcomb
to discover any party.—I must deny't again,
and carry things more closely—But let me see, why

do I use this wife of mine thus terribly?—she gave
me all—ay, that all's the devil! my desires are satisfied,
and I have not a grain of inclination left;
—variety is the thing—in eating, music, wine, or
women; nothing but variety gives the palate to
them all: now, my wife is always the same tune,
the same dish, the same dull bottle of port; and,
to sum up all, the same woman—'twill never do—
How now, Will?

Enter Hazard.
Haz.
How now, Will? is that all?
Look up, and ask me a question like a man;
What, melancholy?

Wild.
No, no; a toy, a trifle.

Haz.
That should be a woman; who is't thou art-thinking on?
I have been of your counsel—

Wild.
I was thinking—o' my wife!
We have had a dialogue; come, thou know'st my bosom.

Haz.
When do'st mean to use her well?

Wild.
I know not; but I have offer'd fair conditions.
She is very confident I do not doat
Upon her beauty: I have told her, sirrah,
I love her kinswoman.

Haz.
Y'are not so mad?

Wild.
The world's deceiv'd in her; she'll give me leave
To ramble where I list; and feed upon
What best delights my appetite.

Haz.
He that has
An ambition to be strangled in his sleep,
May tell his wife he loves another woman.

Wild.
But I was not content with this. Because
The other wench was somewhat obstinate,
I must needs urge my wife to mollify
And mold her for my purpose.

Haz.
And she consented?

Wild.
No, 'twould not do:
This went against her stomach, and we parted.

Haz.
Next time you see her, look to be presented
With your mistress' nose for this. Do'st think a woman
Can be so patient, to know her rival
I'th' same roof, and leave her eyes to see thee
Again? I am sorry for thee.

Wild.
I am confident
She dare not: but for all that, would I had
Been less particular.

Haz.
Come, I love thee well;
But not thy wit, to carry things no handsomer:
You must unravel again, and make your wife
Believe you did but try her.

Wild.

Prithee drop the subject; don't set my
teeth on edge with talking so much about my wife.
—Can'st not see by my wry faces, that 'tis holding
the vial to my nose, after I have taken the physic.
—Prithee no more of her—now tell me, what
brought thee this way!

Haz.

I was going to meet old Barnacle.

Wild.

Barnacle! what can such opposites possibly
do together? He wants you to beat some body for
him.

Haz.

Faith, Jack, I have no superfluous valour
to dispose of—I have but just enough to defend myself
from the impertinence of some, and the villainy
of others.

Wild.

A gamester by profession, Will, shou'd be
always ready to draw his sword, as the circumstances
of play, and the support of his honour may require
it.

Haz.

Yes, there are gamesters who are ever drawing
their swords to support their honour, and of
consequence are for ever fighting.

Wild.

And they find their account in't—For gentlemen
in general had much rather submit to have

their pockets pickt, than run the risque of having
their throats cut: but prithee, Hazard, how do you
escape these firedrakes; for you are pretty open and
direct in your censures upon 'em?

Haz.

What will they get by quarrelling with me?
they know I dare fight, and that I hate a scoundrel;
and whenever madam Fortune is pleas'd to jilt, and
strip me, I always fall upon her bullies; and as they
don't love fighting, for fighting sake, they call me
an odd fellow, and let me alone.

Wild.

Ha, ha, ha! but to return to Barnacle—
What is become of that genius his nephew?

Haz.

Just now return'd from college, as great
a genius as he went—He has been exposing
himself these two years at the university, in the characters
of the rake and the scholar, and now is come
up to make the same figure in town.

Wild.

Is not he an insufferable blockhead?

Haz.

Yes, an insufferable blockhead; but not absolutely
ignorant—his tutor has got words into him
without ideas; so his folly and scholarship set one
another off to a most ridiculous advantage.

Wild.

What Greek and Latin he has, I suppose
lies in his head, as his uncle's money does in the
chest, without being of the least use to himself, or
any body else.

Haz.

You are mistaken, sir; his uncle will spare
no expence to make his hopeful kinsman a fine gentleman.

Wild.

Then the matter is out—he comes to bind
him apprentice to you.

Haz.

Your humble servant.

Wild.

His debauchery will become him as little as
his learning; so that in time we shall see the hopeful
youth not only contemptible but infamous.

Haz.

Is not that the old gentleman yonder, coming
this way?

Wild.

It is indeed; and therefore I shall leave you
to your entertainment—squeeze a few hundreds out

of him if you can—I must back to my kinswoman—
I can't rest without her—Shall I see you at the old
place this afternoon?

[Exit Wild.
Haz.

You shall—I wish I cou'd get this Penelope
out of his hands. She's a charming girl, and tho'
she has not quite money enough to be made a wife
of, by one of no fortune, yet she has too many
good qualities to be made a strumpet of, by such a
fellow as Wilding—he will not succeed surely—
what should be the business, that old Barnacle has
desired my conference? 'tis not to lend me money
sure—he's here.

Enter Barnacle.
Bar.
Master Hazard!

Haz.
I was coming to you, sir.

Bar.
I am fortunate to prevent so great a trouble;
There is a business, sir, wherein I must desire your favour.

Haz.
Mine? command it, sir.

Bar.
Nay, I'll be thankful too; [Shewing a purse of money.]
I know you are
A gentleman.

Haz.
That should incline you to think
I am not mercenary.

Bar.
I beseech your, sir,
Mistake me not; rewards are due to virtues,
And honour must be cherish'd.

Haz.
What's your purpose?
Pray clear my understanding.

Bar.
To be plain, sir,
You have a name i'th' town for a brave fellow.

Haz.
How, sir! you do not come to jeer me?

Bar.
Patience, I mean you have the opinion
Of a valiant gentleman; one that dares
Fight and maintain your honour against odds.
The sword-men do acknowledge you; the bailiffs
Observe their distance; all the swaggering puffs
Strike their top-sails. I have heard them in the streets
Say—there goes daring Hazard; a man careless
Of wounds; and tho' he has not had the luck
To kill so many as another, dares
Fight with all them that have.

Haz.
You have heard this?

Bar.
And more, and more; mistake not,
I do not all this while account you in
The list of those are called the blades, that roar
In brothels, and break windows, that swear dammees,
To pay their debts; and march like walking armories,
With poniard, pistol, rapier, and batoon,
As they would murder all the king's liege people,
And blow down streets: no, I repute you valiant
Indeed, and honour'd; and come now, without
More ceremony, to desire your favour;
Which as you are a gentleman, I hope,
You'll not deny me.

Haz.
Though your language
Be something strange, yet because I think you dare not
Intend me an abuse, I not question it.
Pray to the point; I do not think you're come
To have me be your second.

Bar.
I am no fighter;
Tho' I have seen a fence-school in my days,
And crack'd a cudgel; yet I come about
A fighting business.

Haz.
You would have me beat somebody for you.

Bar.
Not so, noble Hazard: yet
I come to entreat a valiant courtesy,
Which I am willing to requite in money;
I have brought gold to give you payment, sir;
'Tis a thing you may easily consent to,
And 'twill oblige me ever.

Haz.
Be particular.

Bar.
Then thus; you are not ignorant I have a nephew, sir.

Haz.
You have so.

Bar.
One that's like
To be my heir; the only one of my name
That's left: and one that may in time be made
A pretty fellow.

Haz.
Very well; proceed.

Bar.
You know, or you imagine, that I have
A pretty estate too.

Haz.
Y'are held a main rich man, sir;
In money able to weigh down an alderman.

Bar.
I have more than I shall spend: now I come close;
I would have this nephew of mine converse with gentlemen.

Haz.
And he does so.

Bar.
I'll not pinch him in's allowance;
The university had almost spoil'd him.

Haz.
With what?

Bar.
With modesty; a thing, you know,
Not here in fashion: but that's almost cur'd;
I would allow him to be drunk—

Haz.
You may, sir.

Bar.
Or any thing, to speak him a gentleman.

Haz.
With your favour, sir, let me be bold a little
To interrupt you; were not you a citizen?

Bar.
'Tis confess'd, sir.

Haz.
It being a thriving way,
A walk wherein you might direct your nephew,
Why d'ye not breed him so?

Bar.
I apprehend;
And thus I satisfy you: we that had
Our breeding from a trade, cits as you call us,
Tho' we hate gentlemen ourselves, yet are
Ambitious to make all our children gentlemen:
In three generations they return again;
We for our children purchase land; they brave it
I'th' country, beget children, and they sell;
Grow poor, and send their sons up to be 'prentices:
There is a whirl in fate. The courtiers make
Us cuckolds; mark, we wriggle into their
Estates; poverty makes their children citizens,
Our sons cuckold them. A circular justice!
The world turns round. But once more to the purpose.

Haz.
To your nephew.

Bar.
This nephew of mine I do love dearly;
He is all my care; I would be loath to lose him;
And to preserve him both in life and honour,
I come to you.

Haz.
Now you come to me, indeed, sir.

Bar.
What shall I give you, sir, to let him—

Haz.
What?

Bar.
Pray, be not angry!

Haz.
By no means.

Bar.
There is no such security i'th' world;
I'll pay for't heartily.

Haz.
For what?

Bar.
What shall I give you, troth, and let him—

Haz.
What?

Bar.
Beat you, sir?

Haz.
How?

Bar.
Nay do not, sir, mistake me: for altho'
I name it coarsely, I desire it should be
With your consent, no otherwise: my nephew
Is raw, and wants opinion; and the talk
Of such a thing! to beat a gentleman
That all the town's afraid of, would be worth,
In's credit, heaven knows what! alas, you cannot
Blame a kind uncle, to desire all means
To get his nephew fame, and keep him safe;
And this were such a way!—

Haz.
To have me beaten.

Bar.
Y'are i'th' right; but do not misconceive me.
Under your favour, my intention is not
He should much hurt you: if you please to let him
Quarrel, or so, at tavern, or where else
You shall think fit; and throw a pottle-pot—

Haz.
At my head?

Bar.
Yes; or a bottle; still under your correction;
Only that some of your acquaintance, and
Gentlemen may take notice, that he dares
Affront you, and come off with honor handsomely.
Look, here's a hundred pieces! tell 'em i'th' ordinary;
Th'are weight, upon my credit: play 'em not
Against light gold: This is the prologue to
My thanks; besides my nephew shall in private
Acknowledge himself beholden.

Haz.
A hundred pieces! I want money.

Bar.
Right.

Haz.
You give me this to let your nephew beat me?

Bar.
Pray, take me with ye: I do not mean he should
By beating, hurt you dangerously—You may
Contrive the quarrel, so that he may draw
Some blood; or knock you o'er the pate, and so forth;
And come off bravely; this is all.

Haz.
Well, sir;
You do not mean, you say, he should endanger
My life or limbs; all you desire, if I
Mistake not, is to get your nephew credit;
That being flesh'd, he may walk securely, and be held
Valiant, by gaining honour upon me.

Bar.
You understand me right.

Haz.
I'll put it up;
Pray send your nephew to me; we'll agree.

Bar.
Agree, sir? you must quarrel, and he must beat you;
Else, 'tis no bargain.

Haz.
Not before
We have concluded how things shall be carry'd.

Bar.
I must desire your secresy, and—

Haz.
Here's my hand.

Bar.
And there's my money.

Haz.
Your nephew shall be a blade.

Bar.
Why there's ten pieces more, 'cause you come off
So freely; I'll send him to you.

Haz.
Do so; why this, if the dice favour me, may bring all
My lands again. Be sure you send him; but
No words! for your nephew's credit.

Bar.
Mum—I thank you heartily.

[Exit.
Haz.
Be there such things i'th' world? I'll first to the tavern;
There I am staid for: gentlemen, I come;
I'll be beat every day for such a sum.

[Exit.