University of Virginia Library

ACT. II.

SCEN. I.

Scene, The Lord Bevill's House.
Enter Clark and Dufoy.
Clark.
Methinks the wound your Master gave you
Last night, makes you look very thin and
Wan, Monsieur.

Dufoy.
Begar you are mistaké, it be de voundé
Dat my Metresse did give me long agoe.

Clark.
What? some pretty little English Lady's
Crept into your heart?

Dufoy.
No, but damn'd littel English Whore is creepé
Into my bone begar, me could vish dat de
Diable vould také her vid allé my harté.

Clark.
You have manag'd your bus'ness ill, Monsieur.

Dufoy.
It vas de Raskal Cyrugin English dat did
Manage de businesse illé; me did putté my
Businessé into his haundé; he did stop de
Tapé, and de liquor did varké, varké, varké,
Up into de headé and de shoulder begar.

Clark.
Like soap clap'd under a Saddle.

Dufoy.
Here come my Matré, holdé your peacé.

[Ex. Clark.
Enter Sir Frederick, Widow, and Maid.
Sir Fred.
Whither, whither do you draw me, Widow?
What's your design?

Wid.
To walk a turn in the Garden, and then
Repose in a cool Arbour.

Sir Fr.
Widow, I dare not venture my self in those amorous
Shades; you have a mind to be talking of Love
I perceive, and my heart's too tender to be trusted
With such conversation.

Wid.
I did not imagine you were so foolishly
Conceited; is it your Wit or your Person, Sir,
That is so taking?

Sir Fred.
Truly you are much mistaken, I have no
Such great thoughts of the young man you
See; who ever knew a Woman have so much
Reason to build her Love upon merit?
Have we not daily experience of great
Fortunes, that fling themselves into the arms
Of vain idle Fellows? Can you blame me then
For standing upon my guard? No, let us
Sit down here, have each on's a Bottle of Wine
At our elbows; so prompted, I dare enter into
Discourse with you.

Wid.
Wou'd you have me sit
And drink hand to fist with you, as if we were
In the Fleece, or some other of your beloved
Taverns?

Sir Fred.
Faith I wou'd have thee come as neer
As possible to something or other I have
Been us'd to converse with, that I may
The better know how to entertain thee.

Wid.
Pray which of those Ladies you use to
Converse with, could you fancy me to
Look like? be merry, and tell me.

Sir Fred.
'Twere too great a sin to compare thee
To any of them; and yet th'ast so incens'd
Me, I can hardly forbear to wish thee one
Of 'em. Ho, Dufoy!
Widow, I stand in awe of this Gentleman;
I must have his advice before I dare
Keep you company any further.—How do
You approve the spending of my time
With this Lady?

Dufoy.
Ver vel, Begar;
I could vish I had never spendé my time in de
Vorsé compaignie.

Wid.
You look but ill, Monsieur; have
You been sick lately?

Dufoy.
I havé de ver great affliction in my mindé,
Madam.

Wid.
What is't?

Dufoy.
Truly I havé de ver great passion vor dis
Jentel-woman, and she havé no compassion
At all vor me; she do refusé me all my
Amouré and my adressé.

Wid.
Indeed Betty you are to blame.

Maid.
Out upon him for a French dissembler,
He never spake to me in his life, Madam.

Dufoy.
You see, Madam, she scorné me vor
Her Serviteur.

Maid.
Pray, when did you make any of your French
Lové to mé?

Dufoy.
It vil breké my hearté to remember de
Time ven you did refusé mé.

Wid.
Will you permit me to serve you in this
Business, Monsieur?

Dufoy.
Madam, it be d'honour vor de King dé
Francé.

Wid.
Betty, whither run you?

Maid.
I'le not stay to be jeer'd by a sneaking
Valet-De chambré: I'le be reveng'd
If I live, Monsieur.

[Ex. Betty.
Wid.
I'le take some other time.

Dufoy.
Van you have de leisuré, Madam.

Sir Fred.
By those lips,—

Wid.
Nay, pray forbear, Sir.

Sir Fred.
Who's conceited now, Widow? cou'd
You imagine I was so fond to kiss them?

Wid.
You cannot blame me for standing on
My guard so near an Enemy.

Sir Fred.
If you are so good at that, Widow,
Let's see, what guard wou'd you chuse to be at
Shou'd the Trumpet sound a Charge
To this dreadful foe?

Wid.
It is an idle Question amongst experienc'd
Souldiers; but if we ever have a War,
We'l never trouble the Trumpet; the
Bells shall proclaim our Quarrel.

Sir Fred.
It will be most proper; they shall be
Rung backwards.

Wid.
Why so, Sir?

Sir Fred.
I'le have all the helps that may be to
Allay a dangerous fire; Widows must
Needs have furious flames; the bellows
Have been at work, and blown 'em up.

Wid.
You grow too rude, Sir: I will have my
Humour, a walk i'th'Garden; and afterwards
We'l take the Air in the Park.

Sir Fred.
Let us joyn hands then, Widow.

Wid.
Without the dangerous help of a Parson
I do not fear it, Sir.

[Ex. Sir Fred. and Wid.
Dufoy,
Begar, I do no care two Soulz if de
Shamber-maid ver hangé; be it not
Great deal better pretendé d'affection to
Her, dan to tellé de hole Varldé I do take
De Medicine vor de clapé; begar it
Be de ver great deale better.
[Ex. Dufoy.

SCEN. II.

Scene, A Garden belonging to my Lord Bevill's House.
Enter Beaufort and Graciana.
Beauf.
Graciana, why do you condemn your Love?
Your Beauty without that, alas! would prove
But my destruction, an unlucky Star
Prognosticating ruine and despair.

Grac.
Sir, you mistake; 'tis not my Love I blame,
But my Discretion; [Pointing to her breast.]
Here the active flame
Shou'd yet a longer time have been conceal'd;
Too soon, too soon I fear it was reveal'd.
Our weaker Sex glories in a Surprize,
We boast the sudden Conquests of our Eyes;
But men esteem a Foe that dares contend,
One that with noble Courage does defend
A wounded Heart; the Victories they gain
They prize by their own hazard and their pain.

Beauf.
Graciana, can you think we take delight
To have our happiness against us fight;
Or that such goodness shou'd us men displease
As do's afford us Heav'n with greater ease?
[Enter Lovis, walking discontentedly.
See where your Brother comes; his
Carr'age has been strange of late to me;
I never gave him cause of discontent;
He takes no notice of our being here:
I will salute him.

Grac.
By no means;
Some serious thoughts you see employ his mind.

Beauf.
I must be civil. Your Servant, Sir.

Lov.
You are my Sisters Servant, Sir; go fawn
Upon your Mistress; Fare-you-well.
[Ex. Lovis.

Beauf.
Fare-you-well, if you are no better Company.
Heavens! what is the matter?
[Grac. weeps.
What saucy sorrow dares approach your heart?
Waste not these precious Tears; Oh, weep no more!
Shou'd Heaven frown the world wou'd be too poor,
(Rob'd of the sacred Treasure of your eyes)
To pay for Mercy one fit Sacrifice.

Grac.
My Brother, Sir, is growing mad, I fear.

Beauf.
Your Brother is a man whose noble Mind
Was to severest Virtue still inclin'd;
He in the School of Honour has been bred,
And all her subtle Laws with heed has read:
There is some hidden cause, I fain would know
From whence these strange disorders in him flow.
Graciana, shall I beg you to dispel
These Mists which round my troubl'd Reason dwell.

Grac.
It is a Story I cou'd wish you'd learn
From one whom it does not so much concern;
I am th'unhappy cause of what y'ave seen;
My Brother's passion does proceed from mine.

Beauf.
This does confound me more! it cannot be;
You are the joy of all your family:
Dares he condemn you for a noble love
Which honour and your duty both approve.

Grac.
My Lord, those errors merit our excuse
Which an access of vertue does produce.

Beauf.
I know that envy is too base a guest
To have a lodging in his gen'rous breast;
'Tis some extream of Honour, or of Love,
Or both, that thus his indignation move.

Grac.
Er'e I begin, you my sad story end;
You are a Rival to his dearest Friend.

Beauf.
Graciana, though you have so great a share
Of Beauty, all that see you Rivals are;
Yet during this small space I did proclaim
To you, and to the world, my purer flame,
I never saw the man that durst draw near,
With his ambitious Love t'assault your Ear.
What providence has kept us thus asunder?

Grac.
When I have spoke you'l find it is no wonder.
He has a Mistress more renown'd then me,
Whom he does Court, his dearer Loyalty;
He on his legs does now her favours wear;
He is confin'd by her foul Ravisher:
You may not know his Person; but his Name
Is strange to none that have convers'd with Fame.
'Tis Bruce.

Beauf.
The Man indeed I ne're did see,
But have heard wonders of his Gallantry.

Grac.
This gallant Man my Brother ever lov'd;
But his Heroick Virtues so improv'd
In time those seeds of Love which first were sown,
That to the highest Friendship they are grown.
This Friendship first, and not his Love to me,
Sought an Alliance with our Family.
My Sister and my self were newly come
From learning how to live, to live at home;
When barren of Discourse one day, and free
With's Friend, my Brother chanc'd to talk of me;
Unlucky accident! his Friend reply'd,
He long had wish'd their Blood might be ally'd;
Then press'd him that they might my Father move
To give an approbation to his Love:
His Person and his Merits were so great,
He granted faster then they could entreat;
He wish'd the Fates which govern hearts wou'd be
So kind to him to make our hearts agree;
But told them he had made a sacred Vow,
Never to force what Love should disallow.
[Enter Sir Frederick and Widow.
But see, Sir Frederick and my Aunt.
My Lord, some other time I will relate
The story of his Love, and of its Fate.

Sir Fred.
How now my Lord? so grave a countenance
In the presence of your Mistress?
Widow, what wou'd you give
Your eyes had power to make me such
Another melancholly Gentleman?

Wid.
I have seen e'ne as merry a man as
Your self, Sir Frederick, brought to stand
With folded arms, and with a tristful look
Tell a mournful tale to a Lady.

[Enter a Foot-boy, and whispers Sir Frederick.
Sir Fred.
The Divel ows some men a shame;
The Coach is ready; Widow, I know
You are ambitious to be seen in my Company.

Wid.
My Lord, and Cousin, will you honour
Me with yours to the Park; that may take off the
Scandal of his?

Enter Aurelia and Leticia.
Beauf.
Madam, we'l wait upon you;
But we must not leave this Lady behind us.

Wid.
Cousin Aurelia—

Aurel.
Madam, I beg you will excuse me, and
You, my Lord; I feel a little indisposition,
And dare not venture into so sharp an
Air.

Beauf.
Your Servant, Madam.

[Exeunt all but Aurelia and Leticia.
Aurel.
Retire; I wou'd not have you stay with me,
I have too great a train of misery.
If virtuous Love in none be cause of shame,
Why shou'd it be a crime to own the flame?
But we by Custom, not by Nature led,
Must in the beaten paths of Honour tread.
I love thee, Bruce; but Heav'n, what have I done!
Leticia, did I not command you hence?

Letic.
Madam, I hope my care is no offence:
I am afflicted thus to see you take
Delight to keep your miseries awake.

Aurel.
Since you have heard me, swear you will be true;
Leticia, none must know I love but you.

Letic.
If I at any time your Love declare,
May I of Heav'n and serving you despair.
Though I am young, yet I have felt this smart;
Love once was busie with my tender heart;

Aurel.
Wert thou in love?

Letic.
I was.

Aurel.
Prethee, with whom?

Letic.
With one that like my self did newly bloom:
Methoughts his Actions were above his Years.

[She weeps.
Aurel.
Leticia, you confirm me by your tears;
Now I believe you lov'd; did he love you?

Letic.
That had been more then to my Love was due;
He was so much above my humble Birth,
My Passion had been fitter for his mirth.

Aurel.
And does your Love continue still the same?

Letic.
Some sparks remain, but Time has quench'd the flame;
I hope 'twill prove as kind to you, and cure
These greater griefs which (Madam) you endure.

Aurel.
Time to my bleeding heart brings no relief;
Death there must heal the fatal wounds of grief:
Leticia, come, within this shady Bower
Wee'l joyn our mournful voices, and repeat
The saddest tales we ever learn'd of Love.

Aurelia and Leticia
walk into an Arbour, and sing this Song in Parts.
SONG.
When Phillis watch'd her harmless Sheep
Not one poor Lamb was made a prey;
Yet she had cause enough to weep,
Her silly heart did go astray:
Then flying to the neighbouring Grove,
She left the tender Flock to rove,
And to the Winds did breath her Love.
She sought in vain
To ease her pain;
The heedless winds did fan her fire;
Venting her grief
Gave no relief;
But rather did encrease desire.
Then sitting with her arms across,
Her sorrows streaming from each eye;
She fix'd her thoughts upon her loss,
And in despair resolv'd to die.

Aur.
Why shou'd you weep, Leticia, whilst we sing?
[Walking out of the Arbour.
Tell me from whence those gentle Currents spring.
Can yet your faded Love cause such fresh showers?
This water is too good for dying flowers.

Letic.
Madam, it is such Love commands this dew
As cannot fade; it is my love to you.

Aurel.
Leticia, I am weary of this place;
And yet I know not whither I should go.

Letic.
Will you be pleas'd to try if you can sleep?
That may deceive you of your cares awhile.

Aurel.
I will: there's nothing here does give me ease,
But in the end will nourish my disease.

[Exeunt.

SCEN. III.

Scene, A Tavern.
Enter Wheadle, and immediately after him a Foot-boy.
Whead.
The hour is come;
Where's your Master, Sirrah?

Foot-b.
He'l be here immediately, Sir.

Whead.
Is he neatly dress'd?

Boy.
In the very suit he won th'other day
Of the Buckingham-shire Grasier.

Whead.
Take this Letter, and give it me
When you perceive me talking with
Sir Nicholas Cully, with recommendations from
A Lady; lurk in some secret place till he's
Come, that he may not perceive you at his
Entrance. Oh, here's Palmer.
[Exit Foot-boy.
Thom, what's the price of a score of fat
[Enter Palmer.
Weathers?

Palm.
Do they not well become me, boy?

Whead.
Nature doubtless intended thee for a Rogue,
She has so well contriv'd thee for
Disguises. Here comes Sir Nicholas.
[Enter Sir Nicholas.
Sir Nicholas, come, come; This is an honest Friend
And Countryman of mine.

Sir Nich.
Your servant, Sir; is not the Lady come by yet?

Whead.
I expect her every moment,—Ho, here's her Boy.
Well, what news?

[Enter Boy.
Boy.
My Lady presents her service to you, Sir, and has
Sent you this.

[Delivers a Letter.
[Wheadle reads, and seems much displeas'd.
Sir Nich.
What is the matter, man?

Whea.
Read read; I want patience to tell you.
[Gives Cully the Letter.
Fortune still jades me in all my expectations.

Sir Nich.
reading the Letter.
The Citizens wife forc'd
To go to Greenwitch with her husband;
Will meet some time next week.
Come, come, Wheadle, another time will do;
be not so passionate, man.

Whead.
I must abuse my friend upon an idle
Womans words!

Sir Nich.
Pish, 'tis an accident: Come, let us
Drink a glass of Wine, to put these Women
Out of our heads.

Palm.
Women? ho Boys, Women, where are the Women?

Whead.
Here's your merry Country-man.

Palmer
sings.
He took her by the Apron,
To bring her to his beck;
But as he wound her to him
The Apron-strings did break.

Enter Drawer with Wine.
Sir Nich.
A merry man indeed. Sir, my service to you.

[Drinks to Palmer.
Palm.
Thank you, Sir. Come Mr Wheadle, remembring
My Land-lord, i'faith; wou'd he were e'en among us now.
Come, be merry man. [To S. Nich.]
Lend me your hand, Sir; you
Look like an honest man; here's a good health
To all that are so: Tope—here pledg me.

[Drinks.
[Gives Sir Nicholas the Glass.
Sir Nich.
Mr Wheadle, to you.

[Drinks, and leaves some in the Glass.
Palm.
I'le not abate you an ace. 'Slid, y'are not
So honest as I took you for.

[Sir Nicholas drinks up the rest.
Palmer
Sings.
If any man baulk his Liquor
Let him never baulk the Gallows,
But sing a Psalm there with' Vicar,
Or die in a dirty Ale-house.

Enter Drawer.
Drawer.
There's a Country-man below desires to
Speak with his Master Palmer.

Palm.
So, so, thank thee Lad; it is my man, I
Appointed him to call here; h'as sold the Cattle
I'le warrant you: I'le wait upon you agen
Presently, Gentlemen.
Ex. Palmer.

Whead.
Is not this a very pleasant fellow?

Sir Nich.
The pleasant'st I ever met with; What is he?

Whead.
He's a Buckingham-shier Grasier, very
Rich; he has the fat Oxen, and fat Acres in the Vale:
I met him here by chance, and cou'd not avoid
Drinking a glass o'Wine with him. I believe he's
Gone down to receive money;
'Twere an excellent design to buble him.

Sir Nich.
How 'twou'd change his merry note; will you
Try him?

Whead.
Do you:
I cannot appear in't, because he takes me for his Friend.

Sir Nich.
How neatly I cou'd Top upon him!

Whead.
All things will pass upon him; I'le go
Your half: Talk of Dice, you'l
Perceive if he's coming. What money have you
About you?

Sir Nich.
Ten pieces.

Whead.
I have about that quantity too, here, take it.
If he should run us out of our ready money
Be sure you set him deep upon Tick,
If he'l be at you, that we may recover it;
For we'l not pay a farthing of what we lose
That way. Hush, here he comes.

Enter Palmer with a bag of Money under his arm, and flings it upon the Table.
Palm.
All my fat Oxen and Sheep are melted
To this, Gentlemen.

Whead.
Their grease is well try'd, Sir.

Sir Nich.
Come, Sir, for all your riches, you are in
Arrear here.

[Offers him a Glass.
Palm.
I'le be soon out of your debts: My hearty
Love to you, Sir. [Drinks.]
Wou'd
I had you both in Buckingham-shier, and a
Pipe of this Canary in my Cellar; we'd
Roast an Ox before we parted; shou'd we
Not, Boy?

Palmer
Sings.
We'd sing, and we'd laugh, and we'd drink all the day;
Our Reason we'd banish, our Senses shou'd sway;
And every Pleasure our Wills shou'd obey.

Palm.
Come, drink to me a brimmer if you
Dare now.

Sir Nich.
Nay, if you provoke me you'l find me a
Bold man: Give me a bigger glass, Boy:
So, this is fit for men of Worship: Hang your
Retail Drinkers; have at thee, my brave Country-man.

[Drinks.
Palm.
I'le do all I can for my guts to pledg thee.
Ho, brave boys! that's he, that's he, i'faith; how
I cou'd hug thee now! Mr Wheadle, to you.

Whead.
I protest, Gentlemen, you'l fright me out
Of your Company. Sir Nicholas, shall we have
Th'other round.

Sir Nich.
Let's pause a while. What say
You, Gentlemen, if, to pass away the time,
And to refresh us, we should have a box and dice,
And fling a merry Mayn among our selves in sport?

Whea.
'Twill spoil good Company; by no means, Sr Nicholas.

Palm.
Hang play among Friends; let's have a Wench:
Sings.
What say you, shall we have her?

Sir Nich.
We are not drunk enough for a Wench.

Palm.
Let's sing a Catch then.

Whead. Cull.
Agreed, agreed.

Whead.
Begin, Mr Palmer.

Palmer sings, standing in the middle, with a Glass of Wine in his hand.
Palm.
I have no design here,
But drinking good Wine here.

Whea.
Nor I, Boy.

Sr Nic.
Nor I, boy.

Whea.
Th'art my Boy.

Sr Nic.
Th'art my Boy.

All 3.
Our heads are too airy for Plots:
Let us hugg then all three,
Since our Virtues agree,
We'l hollow and cast up our Hats.

[They hollow whilst Palmer drinks, and then change till it has gone round.
Sir Nich.
Enough, enough.

Palm.
Very good boys all, very good boys all. Give
Me a glass of Wine there; fill a Brimmer: Sir
Nicholas, your Lady.

Sir Nich.
Pray, Sir, forbear; I must be forc'd to leave
Your Company else.
Prethee, Wheadle, let's have a Box and Dice.

Whead.
We shall grow dull. Mr Palmer, what say
You to the bus'ness?

Palm.
I do not understand Dice: I understand good
Pasture and drink.—Hang the Devil's bones.

[Wheadle whispers Cully to send for Dice. Cully whispers the Drawer.
Palmer
Sings.
He that leaves his Wine for Boxes and Dice,
Or his Wench for fear of mishaps,
May he beg all his days, cracking of Lice,
And die in conclusion of Claps.

Enter Drawer with Dice.
Palm.
Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the harmlesser
Sport of the two; a merry glass round.

Sir Nich.
Excuse me, Sir; I'le pledg you here.
[Takes Dice.
Come, come, Sir, on Six; Six is the Main.

Palm.
The Main? what's the Main?

Sir Nich.
Do not you understand Hazard?

Palm.
I understand Dice, or hap-hazard!

Sir Nich.
Can you play at Passage?

Palmer.
You pass my understanding: I can fling
Most at a throw, for a Shot, or a glass of Wine.

Sir Nich.
Passage is easily learn'd: The Caster wins
If he fling above ten with Doublets upon
Three Dice.

Palm.
How Doublets?

Sir Nich.
Two of a sort; two Cinques, two Tre's, or the like.

Palm.
Ho, ho; I have you.

Sir Nich.
Come, set then.

Palm.
I set you this Bottle.

Sir Nich.
Nay, nay, set money!

Palm.
Is it a fair play Mr. Wheadle, I trust to you.

Whead.
Upon my word a very fair square play; but
This table is so wet, there's no playing upon it.

Drawer.
Will you be pleas'd to remove into the next Room,
Gentlemen?

Sir Nich.
I think 'twill not be amiss.

Whead.
Much better. Come Mr Palmer.

Palm.
I'le follow, Sir.
Palmer sings.

Sir Nich.
Ho brave Boy!

Palm.
March on, march on.
SINGS.

Exeunt Omnes.