University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter Sir Samuel Forecast, Althea, Jack Wildish, and Olivia.
Fore.
Daughter, we are much beholding to Horatio,
The Portion I can give with you does not
Deserve a man of past half his Fortune;
Six thousand pounds a year, an Estate well
Wooded, and I am told very improveable,
It makes me young again to think on't:
Eugenio I never lik't, and as things stand
Now, am right glad we had no more to do
With him; But that I am one whose
Affection and good will to the State has sufficiently
Manifested it self, I might be thought
To have a hand in their Design, and so have
Been put in the Tower, and had my Fortune
Seiz'd on: Eugenio shall never call a
Child of mine, Wife, as long as
I live.

Wild.
But, Sir, your zeal to the Cause has put
You above those apprehensions.

Fore.
You say right, Mr. Wildish, but we cannot
Be in this case too secure; and I am resolv'd
Althea, to take off all suspition, shall out
Of hand marry with Horatio.

Alth.
Sir, I hope you will allow me some
Time to dismiss Eugenio from my thoughts.

Wild.
And, pray Sir, what prejudice, what
Exception have you to Eugenio?

Fore.
Originally this only, his Father made a
Purchase of some Land, that lay next hedge
To mine, and gave a thousand pounds more
Than it was worth, only to buy it over my head:
Think no more on him upon my blessing,
He is not the man he was; he had an Estate,
'Tis now sequester'd, he dare not show his
Head; and besides, I would not have a Son-in-
Law of his principles, for six times his fortune;
I shou'd be sorry to see any Child of mine
Solliciting her Husbands Composition at
A Committee.

Alth.
Had I once had the relation of a Wife
To Eugenio, I should have thought nothing
A trouble that had become my Duty, and
Cou'd as chearfully have shar'd an honourable
Suffering, as the most flourishing condition.

Fore.
I charge you never receive visit, or
Message from him more, and tell your Sister
Diana, 'tis my pleasure she quit all
Correspondence with Philander.
They are both dangerous persons.
[Turns to Wildish.
These young Wenches, Mr. Wildish, have less
Forecast than Pigeons, so they be billing, they
Look no farther; n'ere think of building their
Nests, nor what shall become of their little ones.

Wild.
Sir, I think they're i'th'right, let 'um encrease
And multiply, and for the rest, trust him that set
'Um a work.

Fore.
Mr. Wildish you are a merry Gentleman; but
I'le tell you, Mrs. Althea, as I have given you
Life, I'le take care you shan't make it miserable.

Alth.
Sir, the happiness of life lies not in wealth, in
Title, or in shew, but in the mind, which is not to
Be forc'd; and we are not the less Slaves for being
Bound in Chains of Gold: A marriage with
Horatio may make me appear happy to the
Envious world, but like those destructive
Arts, which, while they seem to aid, consume
Our native Beauties, indeed must prey upon
My inward peace.

Fore.
I'le warrant you peace within, and without too;
Horatio is a well natur'd proper Gentleman,
And one that loves you.

Wild.
Now there Sir Samuel I'm on your side,
For so the Fan be play'd with, the hand kist;
In fine, the passion handsomly discharg'd, 'tis
No great matter who does it. As Children
Cry after their old Nurses, but 'till they
Are acquainted with their new: so young
Ladies regret the loss of one Servant, but
Till they have got the same familiarity
With another; which, by the way, is seldom
Long first.

Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Sir, there's a man out of Pater-Noster
Row with Stuffs.

Fore.
Bid him carry 'um into the next Room.
Come Althea, let's in and look upon 'um.

[Ex. Althea, and Sir Samuel.
Manent Wildish and Olivia.
Oliv.
We Women are ever sure of your good
Word, Mr. VVildish; when you have a Mistress,
I hope she'le deserve it from you in particular,
And have in perfection all those good qualities
You so liberally bestow upon the whole Sex, in
Your Discourse.

VVild.
Why, Madam, I thought you had understood
Raillery; faith I have so good an opinion of the Sex
I am asham'd to own it but to one of them in
Private; this is only the way of talking I have
Got among my Companions, where when we
Meet over a Bottle of Wine, 'tis held as great
A part of wit to rallee women handsomly behind
Their back, as to flatter 'um to their Faces.

Oliv.
But why do you make us poor women the
Subject of your mirth?

Wild.
You are grown of late so uncharitable, and
Villainous hard-hearted, are incompass'd with so
Many difficulties, as decency, honour, and reputation,
That we men that love our pleasure, begin to
Hate you worse than Beggars do a Coach with
The Glasses drawn up, despair of Relief, and fall
A Railing.

Oliv.
And if some kind-hearted wretch do chance
To relieve one of you, like Beggars you tell it
Presently, and send more; I warrant y'are fine
Fellows, a woman is well helpt up,
That has one of you to her Servant.

Wild.
Nay don't put me in among 'um, I am a
Meer Apostate, though not resolute enough
To endure the Martyrdoms of being continually
Laught at by half a score of 'um: all that I
Have done of late, has been meer compliance,
As Papists go to Church for fear of the penalty.

Oliv.
Pray, Sir, to what fair Saint do we owe your
Conversion?

Wild.
Faith there are many in the World now wou'd
Make you guess this half hour, telling you
First the colour of her hair, her age, her
Country, and perhaps the first Letter of her name;
But I hate that way of fooling—'tis your
Self—whom I love.

Oliv.
Impudent fellow! don't you expect I shou'd
Forbid you the house, or at least, for punishment
Of such rudeness, condemn your guilty passion
To eternal silence and despair? what! men
Have liv'd years in Desarts for their Mistresses
Sake, and yet have trembled when they spoke
Of love; which you venture at with as
Little Ceremony, as you'd ask me how I
Slept last night.

Wild.
I know not what Romances order in
This case, I n'ere thought it would be mine,
And so ha'n't much study'd it: but prithee don't
Baulk a young Beginner; 'tis my first fault, and
So been't too severe, I shall relapse else
Beyond Redemption.

Oliv.
Well, I'm content for once your ignorance
Shou'd plead your pardon.

Wild.
Nay Mrs. Olivia consider me a little further;
I have lost the pleasures of mirth, of Wine,
And Company; all things that were before
Delightful to me, are no longer so; my
Life is grown but one continu'd Thought of
Your fair self: and is a pardon all that I
Must hope for?

Oliv.
Come, leave your fooling, your old humour does
Better with you, a thousand times, then this
Whining Love. As there are some Perfumes
So strong, that they lose that name with
Most: So Complements may be so gross, that
They become injurious.

Wild.
Why here's it now; there are so many cheats
In this Trade of Love too, that like Beggars, the
The true go unreliev'd, because we meet with now
And then a counterfeit: on my life Mrs. Olivia
The plenty I have ever liv'd in, puts me
As much out of countenance to ask a Charity
Of this kind, as I cou'd be, should Fortune constrain
Me, to intreat one of the other; and wou'd not
Trouble you, cou'd my pain admit redress
From any but your self.

Oliv.
Sure, Mr. Wildish, you wou'd think I had
An excellent opinion of my self, or an implicite
Faith in whatever you say, shou'd I believe
All this now.

Wild.
If I told a Chirurgion, I had broke my leg,
Do you think he wou'd not take my word?

Oliv.
Yes sure.

Rild.
Why shou'd not you take it then for a wounded
Heart? they are neither of 'um matters to
Brag on; and I wou'd no more lead the life
Of a Lover if I were free, then I wou'd
That of a sick man if I were well.

Oliv.
Methinks the sick men, as you call 'um,
Live so like the well, as one can scarce know
One from th'other.

Wild.
In your Chamber, perhaps; but abroad we
Find a thousand differences.

Oliv.
As how, I pray?

Wild.
Why, your true Lover leaves all Company
When the Sport begins, the Table when the Bottles
Are call'd for, the Gaming-house when the
Cards come up; is more afraid of an Engagement,
Than a Lawyer in Term-time;
Wou'd less miss the last Act of a Play, the Park,
Or indeed any abominable old Ladies,
Where he may hope to see the party, then
A young Wench can Grayes-Inn-walks, the
First Sunday of her new Gown.

Oliv.
What, is this all?

Wild.
Not half: ask him to sup, he has business;
Or if he promise, 'tis ten to one he fails, and
If he sees his Mistress, is so transported, that
He forgets to send his Excuse; if he cannot
Find her, and so chance to keep his word,
Sits in such dismal Dumps, that he spoils
The whole Company.

Oliv.
And will you be such an Animal for my sake?

Wild.
Faith I'm afraid so, but if not well us'd,
I shall find the way home again.

Oliv.
Whatever you think, Sir, I shall contribute
No more to the keeping you my Servant,
Then I did to the making you so.

Wild.
Well, do but use as proper means to keep
Me your Servant, as you have done to make
Me so, and I am satisfied.

Oliv.
Why, what means?

Wild.
As your Beauty bred my Affection,
So let your kindness nourish it.

Oliv.
Mr. Wildish, you have been so pleasant
Upon this new Argument, that I had
Almost forgot my Visit to Diana.

Wild.
I'm upon equal terms with you there;
For I have made Ned Estridge and Harry
Modish stay this half hour for me
At the French House: and so your Servant.

[Exeunt.