\\\E I'NIVERS//, f an ^bbot of Waltham, who placed it in his abbey church, wherf j: MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, The king refolving to go to Scotland, was aU tended by the Duke of Buckingham ; and on their arrival, when all the reft of his majefty's nglifti fervants were removed, the Duke was alone ex- cepted. The parliament again at this period made overtures to the Duke, offering to com- pound for his eftate at 20,000^. which was lefs where it remained till the diflolution cf the abbey by Henry VIII. 11,40; to preferve it from being deftroyed, it was removed by Robert Fuller, the late abbot of Waltharn, to a private chapel at Newha!), an ancient feat belonging to the Butlers, Earls of Onnond, in Wiltfhire, which af- terwards became the property of Thomas Bollien, father of Anna Bollien. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Newhall was the feat of Thomas RatclifF, Earl of Eflex ; from his family, George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham bought it j his fon fold it to General Monk. The general, to pre^ ferve this elegant window from the puritanical rage of his own party, who had deftroyed ubove 800 beautiful win- dows, ordered it to be buried. After the Reiteration, he replaced it in the chapel of Newhall, which being after- wards the property of John Olmius, Eq. was by him de- molimed; the window was then purchaftcl by Mr. Conyers, who paid Mr. Price, a great artift, a large fum of money for repairing it. T he fon of Mr. Conyers fold it to the committee appointed for the repairing and beautifying St. Margaret's, A. D .1758, for the fum of 400 guineas. than MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. xi than a year's value; he rejected their offers, and (determined to (hare the fortune of his fovereign, he marched with him from Scotland into Eng- Jand ; during the march, perceiving very few of quality or diftin&ion repaired to the royal army, he remonftrated to the king, that it would be more for his majefly's intereft to remove the Scottish general, alledging it was not confiftent with the honour of any peer of England to re- ceive his orders, and folicited the king to confer on him that honour; his fuit being rejected, the duke became fo difcontented he came no more to council, fcarce fpoke to the king, ne- glected every one and himfelf fo much, that for many days he fcarce put on clean linen, fhuning all converfation ; in this'fullen difpofition he continued while the army remained at \Vor- cefter; but in the battle there he was at the king's right hand, and behaved with exemplary valour. The fuperior fortune of Cromwell prevailing, and the royal army being totally difperfed, he retired northward with his majefty, who had then an intention to retire to Scotland; but on a confutation with the Duke, the Earl of Derby, xii MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. Derby, the Lord Wilmot, &c. it was thought more convenient for his majc-fty to conceal him- felf in Eofcobel Houfe. The duke and other noble perfons, with about fixty horfe, having conducted the king to that place, and believing him in fecurity, with great difficulty made his own efcape into France, and went a volunteer to the French army, and fignalizing his courage at the fiege of Arras and Valenciennes, gained the efteem of the French officers. He feldom attended the court of Charles j though the king was highly pleafed with his com- pany, and created him knight of the garter, but the courtiers and his grace were on bad terms. During his refideflce in France he corre- fponded with his friends in England, they obtained leave from the government for his grace to return to his country, to which Charles alfo contented. On his arrival herefolved by a bold ftroke, (at the expence of his gratitude) to repair his for- tune : he paid his court to the protector *, and folicited him to bcftow on him one of his daughters in marriage. He treated the charac- ter of the king with raillery and contempt, af- * Mgephtrfon's Extracts from the Life of James II. furing MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, xiii Turing the prote-flor he defired nothing more that! to venture his life againft Charles Stuart, as he then called him. This conduct did not fuc- ceed, inftead of winning the favour of Crom- well it had the contrary effect. Cromwell re- plied, he would never give his daughter to a man who could be fo ungrateful to the kingj and who owed all he had to the Stuart family. Foiled in this attempt, he paid his addreffes to the daughter of Lord Fairfax ; the parliament had beftowed on this nobleman part of the duke's eftate ; with difficulty he fucceeded, and was married to Lord Fairfax's only daughter, a moft virtuous and amiable lady. Cromwell was much difpleafed when he heard of the match; he confented that the duke (hould refide at York Houfe with his family; but his grace going to Cobham to fee his fitter, he was committed to the Tower on the 24th of Auguft, 1658. Lord Fairfax refcnted this treatment of his fon-in-law ; he waited on the protector, and re- monftrated fharply on his conduct to the duke in fuch terms, that Cromwell alfo gre|v warm, and turAed abruptly from him, cocking his hat and throwing his cloak under his arm, as was his xiv MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. his cuftom when in a paffion. This was the lafl meeting of Cromwell and Fairfax. On the death of the prote&or the duke had leave to be a prifoner at Wind for Caftle, where his friend Mr. Abraham Cowley was his conftant com- panion. At Windfor he remained till the 2Qth of July, 1650, when the abdication of Richard Cromwell reftored him his liberty, on his giving fecurity to be faithful to the government. On quitting \Vindfor he retired to Lord Fair- fax's feat at Appleton, in Yorkfliire, and here he fpcnt the happieft part of his life, becaufe the moft prudent, free from riot or extravagance. Lord Fairfax was highly delighted with his company, and rejoiced to fee him perfectly con- formable to the order and good government of the family. On the reftoration of Charles II. when the king formed his council at Canterbury, irritated with the duke for his paft conduct, he omitfed his grace, who was the only man that had en- joyed that honour abroad that was not called to it at home. The charms of his wit and converfation had gained too great an afcendancy over the king for this mortification to laft long ; he was I foon MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. xv foon after made lord of the bedchamber and fwore of the privy council. By his majefty's reftoration he regained his eftate, but his neceffities and expenfive living made him a prey to ufurers, which greatly im- poverifhed his income. He lived at Wallingford- Houfe in the utmoft fplendour, entertaining with great hofpitality the foreign nobility, efpecially the French, who engaged him in play, but he foon forfook {he vice of gaming. The favour of his fovereign did not attach him to the meafures of the court, he engaged deeply in oppofition, fet himfelf at the head of a party whofe counfel he folicited, lamenting the king's neglec~l of buimefs, and his trufting to perfons totally incapable, exaggerating all the licentioufnefs and debauchery of the court in the moft lively colours ; he was well qualified for fuch a narration, having himfelf been deeply engaged in thofe pleafures he now affected to difclaim. He acquired a very great intereft in both Houfes of Parliament ; his quality, his conde- fcenfion, the brilliancy of his wit, drew perfons f all affections and inclinations to like his com- panyj xvi MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR: pany ; even the moft rigid believed, when thd vanities and levities of youth fhould give place to the fobernefs of age, he would be highly ufeful to his country, for which he declared the greateft affection. The king had conflant intelligence of all his conduct; he was highly irritated with him for the freedom with which he treated his character, and could fcaree credit that the duke's levity and love of pleafure would permit him to attend to parliamentary bufmefs, and acquire an incredible opinion with the people. The Duke of Buckingham made no fcruple of declaring his hatred againft the Duke of Or- mond, whofe youngeft fon had married his niece; he complained Ormond had violated many promifes of friendfhip, and refolved to feize every opportunity to diftrefs him. In the year 1666, a bill was pafled for re- draining the importation of Irifb cattle; an adl: peculiarly hard, as Ireland had fcaree any other article for foreign commerce. The violence of the country gentlemen, who afcribed the fudden fall of their rents to the importation cf provi- fions from abroad, overcame the king's folici- tations, MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, xvii citations, who declared he was equally king of all, and obliged to have an equal care of all, and never to confent to any thing that might be prejudicial to either of the others, efpecially if the benefit to the one was not proportionable to, and as evident as the damage was to the others ; and upon thefe grounds, he recommended to them to give fuch a flop to this bill, that it might never be prefented to him; he difcovered an inclination to refufe his afTent, but was fwayed from his purpofe by his fears that the commons would give no fupply; during the debate, the Duke of Buckingham exerted all his talent for ridicule, to the great entertainment of the Lords ; among other expreffions he remarked, that whoever was againft the bill had either an Irifh intereft or an Irifh underftanding. This obfervation highly offended the Lord OfTory (eldeft fon of the Duke of Ormond) ; confcious of his own impetuofity of temper, he declined an inftant reply, but meeting the duke after the debate, he defired he would walk in the next room, and there told him, " that he had " taken the liberty to ufe many loofe and un- " worthy exprefiions, which reflated upon the VOL. I. b whole xviii MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. " whole Irifli nation, and which he himfdf re- " fented fo much, that he expected fatisfa&ion, " and to find him with his fword in his hand." In vain the duke urged the freedom of de- bate, Lord OfTory was deaf to all accommoda- tion ; his grace therefore appointed in lefs than an hour to decide this difference in Chelfea Fields. Lord Oflbry inftantly repaired to the place of combat; when, having waited fome time, and feeing feveral perfons approach, he concluded they were fent to prevent any action, he therefore mounted his horfe and retired. The duke was found by himfelf in another place on the other fide of the water, which he declared he imagined to be the place appointed. The next day he took a refolution, from which his friends difluaded him ; as foon as the houfe of lords was fet, he told the houfe he muft inform them of fomewhat that concerned him- felf, and being fure that it would come to their notice fome other way, he had therefore chofen to acquaint them with it himfelf; when having related the caufe of the duel, he added, he had told Lord Oflbry he would fight him, yet did not think himfelf obliged to it in maintenance of MEMOIRS OF* THE AUTHOR. x of any thing he had faid or done in parliament, yet, that it being agreeable to him to fight with any man who had a mind to fight with him, he appointed Chelfea Fields, which he undeiftood to be the fields over againft Chelfea, that he only went to change his fword, and haftened to the place, where he waited in expectation of Lord Oflbry until fome gentlemen arrived, who de- clared they came to prevent his and Lord OfTory's meeting ; therefore, imagining there would not be any prefent combat, he had re- turned, but was always ready to give any gentle- man fatisfaction that fhould require it of him. The Lord OfTory was much affected that the difpute was like to prove only a war of words. The houfe declared, a punifhment ought to be inflicted on Lord Oflbry, who had violated the freedom of debate, that the duke had conducted himfelf in this bufinefs according to the cuftom of the age, and had given no offence to the houfe, to which he had always paid a proper re- fpect. Some lords declared, the duke by his readincfs to fight, had made the offence equal, and there- fore moved they might both be fent to the tower, b 2 The xx MEM.OIRS OF THE AUTHOR. The duke, who had often employed his talent for ridicule, was now doomed to feel the lafh himfelf ; fome members defired his grace might receive no punifhment becaufe he had committed no fault, for it was evident that he never in- tended to fight, and had, when no other tergi- verfation would ferve his turn, prudently mi- ftaken the place that was appointed by hirafelf j his friends thought this acquiefcence was efcaping too dear ; and therefore both lords were fent to the tower. The duke had no fooner re- gained his liberty, than he was engaged in a conteft with the Marquis of Dorchefter in a con- ference with the Commons on the Irifli bill, as his Grace and Lord Dorchefter were fitting in the Painted Chamber j they quarelled about their feats, and, in violation of all decorum, ftruck each other ; the houfe of lords committed them both to the Tower. The king was highly incenfed againft the duke for his conduct in parliament this fefiion; and being informed the duke was plotting againft the government, he ordered him by proclamation tofurrender himfelf; the duke foon found means to make his peace with the king, and was re- flored MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, xxi ftorcd to favour. The duke afcribed his dif- grace to the Earl of Clarendon ; with all the force of his poignant wit, he had long endea- voured to make that minifter ridiculous in the eyes of his fovereign, he would frequently fay to the king, " There goes your fchool-mafter." He often acted and mimicked the chancellor be- fore the king, walking (lately with a pair of bel- lows before him for the purfe, and Col. Titus carrying a fire (hovel on his fhoulder for the mace, to the great entertainment of Charles. Above all, he promifed for the conduct of the commons fliould his enemy be difgraced. The king foon abandoned the chancellor, who was attacked by the commons, impeached and ba- nifhed. On Clarendon's withdrawing, he left a vindication of his conduct, addrefled to the lords fpiritual and temporal in parliament af- fembled. The lords communicated this petition to the commons, and at a conference between the two houfes, the Duke of Buckingham de- livered up the petition, and added by way of infult and derifion, ' e That the lords had com- *' manded him to deliver to the commons that " fcandalous and feditious paper, fent from the b 3 " Earl xxii MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. " Earl of Clarendon'; they bid me prefent it to " you, and defire you in convenient time to " fend it to them again, for it has a ftile which " they are in love tvith^ and they defire io keep it." The cruelty of ridiculing the afflictions of a great man, and the turning the juilice of the nation into a jeft, offended the fober and the fe- rious, and they agreed with the earl when he complained in his petition " of tome enemies of * c more licentious principles, who took to them- " felves the liberty of reviling all counfels and " cpunfellors, and turning all things ferious and " facred into ridicule." To prevent for ever the return of Clarendon, .Buckingham and Arlington endeavoured to an- nrhHate his party by di (placing his relations and .friends. In the month of May, 1668, he pur- chafed of the Duke of Albemarie the place of the mailer of the horfe, and added the weight of an cftenfible office to his fccret influence in the cabinet. Buckingham having triumphed over Claren- don and ^is friends, turned his whole influence and policy againft the Duke of York, whom he I endeavoured MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, xxiii endeavoured in vain to difplace from his office of lord higfa^ admiral. The whole life of his grace was ruled by ca- price : purfued by meiTengers and warrants in the month of March ; in the Tower in June ; in July leading the cabinet. He was now a firm aflbciate of that miniftry, whom the nation exe- crated, filling them in derifion, from the initials of their names, THE CABAL. The Dutchefs of Orleans having been fent to meet the king, her brother, at Dover, to engage her to declare war againft the Dutch, on her re- turn to France was fuppofed to be poifoned. The Duke of Buckingham appears to have been greatly affected by the death of the Dutchefs of Orleans ; he profefled a wonderful attachment to that princefs ; he became outrageous on the news of her death ; lie talked of nothing but a breach with France ; he flew to all the foreign ambafiadors, and without authority endeavoured to engage them in the expected war*. On the arrival of the Marquis of Bellesfond with com- pliments of condolance from the French king, Charles, who knew the character of Bucking- ham, fent him in return to France, infmuating * Macpherfon's Hiftory. b 4 at xxlv MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. at the fame time to Lewis, the propriety of gaining him to their fecret fchemes. The accefs to Buckingham was eafy through the channels of his vanity and avarice ; on his arrival Lewis aflailed him through both. He remarked on his noble prefence and mien, adding, he was almoft the only Engli/h gentleman he had ever fecn j greater refpe vants ; his own extravagant tafte for magni- ficence, and thofe infatiable drainers, chymiftry, mufic, and building in that fort of architecture which Cicero calls infants fubjiruflionts^ and which the duke ufually denominated his folly, had impoverifhed his fortune. His irregular and ufifrable conduct in his political capacity having ruined him with parties, his creditors growing clamorous, and his health being greatly impaired, at the death of Charles II. he retired to his own, manor of Helmfley, in Yorkfhire. King Charles loved MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, xxxvij loved his company, and well knowing his cha- racter, pardoned his follies. The duke had for- merly affected to fear an aflaffination from James, with whom he had had too many differences to think his prefence acceptable at court. The zeal of the king on hearing of his grace's fick- nefs, was defirous of converting him to the church of Rome, and accordingly fent Father Fitz^ gerald to him; the prieft's arguments were foiled by the Duke's inimitable turn of wit. During his retirement he pafFed his time in. hunting and entertaining his friends, which he did a fortnight before his death with great plea- fantry and hofpitality. Returning from a fox-hunt, he fat on the damp ground, which threw him into an ague and. fever ; he retired to a tenant's houfe at Kirby Moor Side, a lordfhip of his own near Helmfley ; diffatisficd with his miferable fitua- tion, he fent to his old fervant, Mr. Brian Fair- fax, to defire him to provide him a bed at his houfe, at Bifhop-Hill, in York; the next morn- ing another mefienger acquainted Mr. Fairfax his grace's life was defpaired of. Fairfax fct out poll; when he arrived he found the duke, acconi* panied nxviii MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. panied by the Earl of Arran, Ton to Duke Ha- milton, who hearing of his ficknefs, vifited him in his way to Scotland. The duke looked ear- neftly at Fairfax, but was unable to fpeak. Mr. Fairfax enquired of a gentleman of integrity who was prefent, what had been faid or done before his grace became fpeechlefs, who told him fome queftions had been afked him about his eftate, to which he gave no anfwer; that on enquiring if he chofe to have the minifter of the parifh fent for, he was alfo filent ; but on afking whether he chofe a prieft to wait on him, he anfwered with great vehemence, No, no ! The violence of the fever feems from the firft to have deprived faim of his faculties, neverthelcfs a minifter was fe/it for, who adminiftered the facrament to him. On the i6th of April, 1688, the third day of his illnefs, he expired quietly on his bed, aged fixty, the fate of few of his predeceflbrs v in the title of Buckingham. His body was embalmed and brought to Weftminfter Abbey, and there !epofited in the vault with his father and bro- ther's, in Henry Vllth's chapel. Thus died in contempt and mifery, circum- tfanccs moft unworthy of himfelf, the great Duke of MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR, of Buckingham *; a melancholy example of the proftkution of talents. In his perfon he was tail, active, and of a noble prefence, irrefiftabk in his converfation, poffeffed of great livelinefs of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into ridicule, with bold figures and natural defcrip- tions ; though few owed more to fortune, none ever made a worfe ufe of her favours j with an * His end is pathetically defcribed by Mr. Pope in hi* epiftle to Lord Bathurft, in the following verfes. In the worft inn's worft room, with matt half-hunjj The floors of plaifter, and the walls of dungs On once a flock-bed, but repaired with ftraw, With tape-ty'd curtains never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow ftrove with dirty red, Great Vipers lies Alas ! how chaug'd from him^ That life of pleafure, and that foul of whim ! Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove, The bow'r of wanton Shrewsbury and Love j Or juft as gay, at council, in a ring Of mimick ftatefmen, and their merry king. No wit to flatter, left of all his (tore ; No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame, this lord of ufelefs thousands ends. ample xl MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. ample eftate, yet always in diftrefs ; a fpend- thrift without magnificence; extravagant with- out the leaft fymptom of generofhy. He was vain, but not proud ; eager for reputation, but carelefs of his honour; fuperftitious in his dif- pofition, without religion. Pleafure, frolick, or extravagant diverfion was his only delight. It is much to be lamented, that a man of fuch un- common talents ftiould be fubjecl: to unaccount- able weaknefles, and devoid of virtue. T.E. THE THE REHEARSAL; WITH NOTES. CONTAINING A CRITICAL VIEW OF THE AUTHORS, AND THEIR WRITINGS, THAT ARE EXPOSED IN THAT CELEBRATED PLAY. WRITTEN BY HIS GRACE GEORGE VILLIERS, LATE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. ( 3 ) PLAYS MENTIONED IN THE NOTES TO THE REHEARSAL. I. HP JL H E Loft Lady ; by Sir William Barclay. II. Love and Honour ; by Sir William D' Ave- nant. III. Love and Friendfhip ; ' by Sir William IV. Pandora; J Killigrew. V. Siege of Rhodes, part I. by Sir William D'Avenant. VI. Play-houfe to be lett ; by colonel Henry Howard. VII. United Kingdoms. VIII. Slighted Maid; by Sir Robert Stapleton. IX. Wild Gallant ; by Mr. Dryden. X- Engliih Monfieur; by Mr. James Howard. XL The Villain ; by major Tho. Porter. B z XII. The ( 4 ) XII. The Prologue to the Maiden Queen j by Mr. Dryden. XIII. The Amorous Prince ; by Mrs. Behn. XIV. Tyrannic Love and Prologue ; by Mr. Dryden. XV. Granada, 2 parts, by Mr. Dryden. XVI. Marriage A-la-mode ; by Mr. Dryden. XVII. Love in a Nunnery j by Mr. Dryden. THE PROLOGUE. E might well call this fliort mock-play of ours A poefy made of weeds, inftead of flowers ; Yet fuch have been prefented to your nofes, And there are fuch, I fear, who thought 'em rofes. Would fome of 'em were here, to fee this night, What ftufF it is in which they took delight. Here, brifk, infipid rogues, for wit, let fall Sometimes dull fenfe ; but oftener none at all : There, flrutting heroes, with a grim-fac'd train, Shall bxave the gods, in king Cambyfes vein : For (crangeing rules, of late, as if men writ In fpite of rcafon, nature, art and wit) Our poets make us laugh at tragedy, And with their comedies they make us cry. Now, criticks, do your worft, that here are met ; For, like a rock, I have hedg'd in my bet. If you approve ; I mall afiume the ftate Of thofe high-flyers whom I imitate : And juftly too, for I will teach you more Than ever they would let you know before: I will not only mew the feats they do, But give you all their reafons for 'em too. Some honour may to me from hence arife : But if, by my endeavours, you grow wife, And what you once fo prais'd, mall now defpife; Then I'll cry out, fwell'd with poetic rage, 'Tis I, John Lacy, have reform'd your ftage. B 3 The THE ACTORS NAMES. Bayes, Johnfon, Smith, 2 Kings of Brentford, Prince Prettymen, Prince Volfcius, Tom Thimble, Fifherman, Shirley, Sun, Thunder, Players, Gentleman Uflier, Soldiers, Phyfician, Drawcanfir, General, Lieutenant-general, Cordelio, Two heralds, *y Tour cardinals, j Judges, Mayor, JWVlutes. Serjeants at arms. ^ W O MEN. Amaryllij, Cloris, Lightning, Moon, Parthenope, Pallas, Earth, Attendants of Men and Women. Scene BRENTFORD. THE REHEARSAL. ACT I. SCENE I. Johnfon and Smith. 7^/JriONEST Frank! lam glad to fee thee with all my heart. How long haft thou been in town ? Smi. Faith not above an hour : and, if I had not met you here, I had gone to look you out ; for I long to talk with you freely, of all the flrange new things we have heard in the country. / Jobnf. And by my troth, I have long'd as much to laugh with you, at all the impertinent, dull, fantaftical things, we are tir'd out with here. Smi. Dull and fantaftick ! that's an excellent compofition. Pray what are our men of bufmefs doing ? Jobnf. I ne'er enquire after 'em. Thou knoweft my humour lies another way. I love to pleafe myfelf as much, and to trouble others as little as I can : and therefore do naturally avoid the com- pany of thofe folemn fops ; who, being incapable of reafon, and infenfible of wit and pleafure, are ' B 4 always 8 THE REHEARSAL. always looking grave, and troubling one another, in hopes to be thought men of bufinefs. Smi. Indeed, I have ever obferv'd, that your grave lookers are the dullefl of men. Johnf. Ay, and of birds, and beafts too : your graveft bird is an owl, and your graveft beaft is an afs. Smi. Well, but how doft thou pafs thy time ? Johnf. Why, as I ufe to do ; eat, and drink as well as I can, have a fhe-friend to be private with in the afternoon, and fometimes fee a play : Where are fuch things (Frank) fuch hideous, monftrous things, that it has almoft made me forfwear the ftage, and refolve to apply myfelf to the folid nonfenfe of your men of bufinefs, as the more in- genious paftime. Smi. I have heard indeed, you have had lately many new plays ; and our country wits commend 'em. Johnf. Ay, fo do fome of our city wits too ; but they are of the new kind of wits. Smi. New kind ! what kind is that ? Johnf. Why, your virtuofi, your civil perfons, your drolls : fellows that fcorn to imitate nature } but are given altogether to elevate and furprize. Smi > THE K E H E A 1< 5 A L. j Smi. Elevate and furprife ! pr'ythee make me underftand the meaning of that. Johnf. Nay, by my troth ; that's a hard mat- ter : I don't underftand that myfelf. 'Tis a phrafe they have got among them, to exprefs their no- meaning byl I'll tell you, as near as I can, what it is. Xet me fee : 'tis fighting, loving, fleeping, rhiming, dying, dancing, finging, crying: and every thing, but thinking and fenfe. Mr. Bayes paffes over the ft age. Bayes. Your moil obfequious, and moft obfer- vant, very fervant, Sir. Johnf. So, this is an author ! I'll go fetch him to you. Smi, No pr'ythee let him alone. Johnf. Nay, by the lord I'll have him. [Goes after him, Here he is, I have caught him. Pray Sir, now for my fake, will you do a favour to this friend of mine ? Bayes. Sir, it is not within my fmall capacity to do favours, .but receive 'em; efpecially from a perfon that does wear the honourable title you are pleas'd , THE REHEARSAL. pleas'd to impofe, Sir, upon this Sweet Sir, your fervant. Smi. Your humble fervant, Sir. Johnf. But wilt thou do me a favour now ? Bayes. Ay, Sir : What is't ? Johnf. Why, to tell him the meaning of thy laft play. Bayes, How, Sir, the meaning ? do you mean the plot ? Johnf. Ay, ay ; any thing. Bayes. Faith' Sir, the intrigo's now quite out of my h^-ad ; but I have a new one, in my pocket, _that I may fay is a virgin ;\ it has never yet been ! blown upon. I muft tell you one thing, 'tis all new wit ; and though I fay it, a better than my laft : and you know well enough how that took. * In fine, it mall read, and write, and ad, and plot, and mew, ay, and pit, box, and gallery it, with any play in Europe. This morning is it's * la fine, it Jhall read, and write, and aft, and plot, and Jbewi ay, and pit, box, and gallery it, -with any play in Europe. " This was the ufual language of the honoura- " ble Edward Howard Efq ; at the rehearfal of his plays." laft THE REHEARSAL. ti laft rehearfal in their habits, and all that, as it is to be afted ; and if you, and your friend will do it but the honour to fee it in its virgin attire, tho* perhaps it may blufh, I fhall not be afham'd to difcover it unto you \ 1 think it is in this pocket. [Puts bis hand in his pocket. Johnf. Sir, I confefs, I am not able to anfwer you in this new way ; but if you pleafe to lead, I mall be glad to follow you ; and I hope my friend will do fo too. Smi. Sir, I have no bufinefs fo confiderable, as mould keep me from your company. Bayes. Yes, here it is. No, cry you mercy : this is my book of Drama Common-places ; the mother of many other plays. Johnf. Drama Common-places ! Pray what's that ? Bayes. Why, Sir, fome certain helps, that we men of art have found it convenient to make ufe of. Smi. How, Sir, helps for wit ? Bayes. Ay, Sir, that's my pofition. And I do here aver, that no man yet the fun e'er fhone upon i* THE REHEARSAL. upon has parts fufticient to furnifh out a ftage, except it were by the help of thefe my rules.* John/. What are thofe rules, I pray ? Bayes. Why Sir, my firft rule is the rule of tranfverfion, or regula duplex: changing verfe into profe, or profe into verfe, alternative as you pleafe. Smi. Well, but how is this done by rule, Sir ? Bayes. Why, thus, Sir; nothing fo eafy when underftood ; I take a book in my hand, either at home or elfewhere, for that's all one, if there be any wit in't, as there is no book but has fome, I tranfverfe it ; that is, if it be profe, put it into verfe, (but that takes up fome time) and if it be verfe, put it into profe. Johnf. Methinks, Mr. Bayes, that putting verfe into profe fhould be calling tranfpofing. * Ttefe my rules. He who wrote this, not without pain and thought From French and Englifh theatres, has brought Th' exafteft rules by which a play is wrought, The unity of aftion, place and time ; The fcenes unbroken ; and a mingled chime Of Johnfon's humour, with Corneille's rhime. Prologue to tb( Maiden Sateen. Bayts. THE REHEAR SAL, ij Bayes. By my troth, Sir, 'tis a very good no- tion, and hereafter it lhall be fo.- Smi. Well, Sir, and what d'ye do with it then ? Bayes. Make it my own. 'Tis fo chang'd that no man can know it. My next rule is the rule of record by way of table-book. Pray obferve. Johnf. We hear you, Sir : go on. Bayes. As thus, I come into a coffee-houfe, or fome other place where witty men refort ; I make as if I minded nothing: (do you mark?) but as fbon as any one fpeaks, pop I flap it down, and make that too my own. Johnf. But, Mr. Bayes, are you not fometimes in danger of their making you reftore, by force, what you have gotten thus, by art ? Bayes. No, Sir; the world's unmindful: they never take notice of thefe things. Smi. But pray, Mr. Bayes, amongft all your other rules, have you no one rule for Invention ? Bayes. Yes, Sir, that's my third rule that I have here in my pocket. Smi. What rule can that be I wonder ! Bayes. Why. Sir, when I have any thing to invent, I never trouble my head about it, as other men do; but prefently turn over this book, z and , 4 THE REHEARSAL. and there I have, at one view, all that Perfius, Montaigne, Seneca's Tragedies, Horace, Juvenal, Claudian, Pliny, Plutarch's Lives, and the reft, have ever thought upon this fubjeft ; and fo in a thrice, by leaving out a few words, or putting in ethers of my own, the bufinefs is done. Jobnf. Indeed Mr. Bayes, this is as fure, and compendious a way of wit as ever I heard of. Bayes. Sirs, if you make the leaft fcruple of the efficacy of thefe my rules, do but come to the play-houfe, and you mail judge of 'em by the . effefts. /" Sml. We'll follow you, Sir. [Exeunt. Enter three Players upon the Stage. 1 Play. Have you your part perfect ? 2 Play. Yes I have it without book; but I don't underftand how it is to be fpoken. 3 Play. And mine is fuch a one, as I can't guefs for my life what humour I'm to be in ; whe- ther angry, melancholy, merry, or in love. I don't know what to make on't. i Play. Phoo! the author will be here prefent- ly and he'll tell us all. You muft know, this is the new way of writing, and thefe hard things pleafe forty times better than the old plain way. For, THE REHEARSAL 15 For, look you, Sir, the grand defign upon the itage is to keep the auditors in fufpence ; for to guefs prefently at the plot, and the fenfe tires them before the end of the firft aft : now, here every line furprifes you, and brings in matter. And then, for fcenes, cloaths and dances, we put quite down all that ever went before us ; and thofe are the things, you know, that are eflen- tial to a play. 2 Play. Well, I am not of thy mind ; but, fo it gets us money, 'tis no great matter. Enter Bayes, Johnfbn and Smith. Baves. Come, come in, gentlemen. Y'are very welcome Mr. a Ha' you your part ready ? i Play. Yes, Sir. Bayes. But do you underftand the true humour of it. I Play. Ay, Sir, pretty well. Bayes. And Amaryllis, how does me do ? Does not her armour become her ? 3 Play. O, admirably ! Bayes. I'll tell you now a pretty conceit. What do you think I'll make 'em call her anon, in this play. Smi. What, I pray? Bayes 16 THE REHEARSAL. Bayes, Why, I make 'em call her Amaryllis, becaufe of her amour. Ha, ha, ha. Jobnf. That will be very well indeed. Bayes. Ay, it's a pretty little rogue; I knew her face would fet off armour extremely ; and to tell you true, I writ that part only for her. You muft know me is my miftrefs *. Jobnf. Then I know another thing, little Bayes, that thou haft had her. Bayes. No, not yet ; but I am fure I mail : For I have talk'd bawdy to her already. Johnf. Haft thou, faith ? Pr'ythee how was that ? Bayes. Why, Sir, there is in the French tongue, a certain criticifm, which, by the varia- tion of the mafculine adjective inftead of the fe- minine, makes a quite different Cgnification of the word : as for example, Ala vie, is my life ; but, if before vie you put mon inftead of ma, you make it bawdy. Jobnf. Very true. Bayes. Now, Sir, I, having obferv'd this, fet a * I 'writ that part only for ker. You mvft knowjbe is my tnifirefs.'} " The part of Amaryllis was afted by Mrs. " Anne Reeves, who, at that time, was kept by Mi'. Bayes. trap THE REHEARSAL. trap for her, the other day in the tiring-room; for this, faid I, Adieu bel efperanfa de ma vie ; (which I'gad is very pretty:) to which fhe anfwer- ed, I vow, almoft as prettily every jot ; for, faid Ihe, Songez a ma vie, monjieur ; whereupon I pre.- fently fnapp'd this upon her; Non, non, Ma- dam Songez vous a mon, by gad, and nam'd the thing directly to her. Smi. This is one of the richeft ftories, Mr. Bayes, that ever I heard of. Bayes. Ay, let me alone, I'gad, when I get to 'em; I'll nick 'em, I warrant you: but I'm a little nice ; for you muft know, at this time, I am kept by another woman in this city. Smi. How kept ? for what ? - Bayes. Why, for a Beau Ga^on : lam i'fackins. Smi. Nay, then we fhall never have done. Bayes. And the rogue is fo fond of me, Mr. Johnfon, that, I vow to God, I know not what to do with myfelf. Jobnf. Do with thyfelf ! no ; I wonder how thou canft make a fhift to hpld out at this rate. Bayes. O devil, I can toil like a horfe ; only fometimes it makes me melancholy; and then I VOL. I. C vow i8 THE REHEARSAL. vow to gad, for a whole day together, I am not able to fay you one good thing if it were to fave my life. Smi. That we do verily believe, Mr. Bayes. Bayes. And that's the only thing, I'gad, which mads me in my amours ; for I'll tell you, as a friend, Mr. Johnfon, 'my acquaintance, I hear, begin to give out that I am dull : now I am the fartheft from it in the whole world, I'gad, but only forfooth, they think I am fo, becaufe I can fay nothing. Johnf. Phoo, pox. That's ill-natur'dly done of 'em. Bayes. Ay, gad, there's no truftirig o' thefe rogues ; but aCome, let's fit down. Look you Sirs, the chief hinge of this play, upon which the whole plot moves and turns, and that caufes the variety of all the feveral accidents, which, you know, are the thing in nature that makes up the grand refinement of a play, is that I fuppofe * two *~Ifuppofc invoking* of the fame place : as for example, at Brentford; for I love to lurlte familiarly. " Colonel " Henry Howard, fon of Thomas earl of Berkfhire, made " a play, called The united Kingdoms, which had two " kings in it. This, it is generally believed, gave our " noble author juft occafion to fet up two kings at Brent- ' ford j though others are of opinion, his grace had the two royal THE REHEARSAL. nj kings of the fame place : as for example* at Brent- ford ; for I love to write familiarly. Now, the people having the fame relations to 'em both; the fame affections, the fame duty, the fame obedi- ence, and all that; are divided amongft themfelves in point of devoir and intereit, how to behave themfelves equally between 'em : thefe kings differ- ing fometimes in particulars ; tho', in the main, they agree. (I know not whether I make myfelf well underftood.) Johnf, I did not obferve you, Sir; pray, fay that again. Bayes. Why, look you, Sir, (nay I befeech you be a little curious in taking notice of this, or elfe you'll never underftand my notion of the thing) the people being embarrafs'd by their equal ties to both, and the fovereigns concern'd in a reci- " royal brothers in his thoughts. The United kingdoms " was acted at the Cock-pit in Drury-lane, foon after the " Reftoration j but mifcarrying on the ftage, the author had " the modeftynot to print it, and therefore the reader cannot " reafonably expect any particular paflages of -it. Others " are of opinion, that the two kings are meant in ridicule ' of Boabdelin and Abdalla, the two contending kings of " Granada; and Mr. Dryden has, in moft of his ferious " plays, two contending kings of the fame place. procal *e THE REHEARSAL. procal regard, as well to their own intereft, as the good of the people ; may make a certain kind of a you underftand me upon which, there does arife feveral difputes, turmoils, heart-bum- ings, and all that In fine, you'll apprehend it better when you fee it. [Exit to call the Players. Smi. I find the author will be very much obliged to the players, if they can make any fenfe out of this. Enter Bayes. Bayes. Now, gentlemen, I would fain afk your opinion of one thing. I have made a prologue and an epilogue, which may both ferve for either ; (that is, the prologue for the epilogue, or the epilogue for the prologue) [do you mark ?] nay, they may both ferve too, I'gad for any other play as well as this. - Smi. Very well. That's indeed artificial. Bayes. And I would fain afk your judgments, now, which of them would do beft for the pro- logue? for, you muft know, there is in nature but two ways of making very good prologues. The one is by civility, by infinuation, good language, and all that a in a manner, fteal your plaudit from THE REHEARSAL. 11 from the courtefy of the auditors : the other, by making ufe of fome certain perfonal things, which may keep a hank upon fuch cenfuring perfons, as cannot otherways, I'gad, in nature, be hindred from being too free with their tongues.jTo which end, my firft prologue is,* TfiaTTcome out in a long black veil, and a great huge hangman be- hind me, with afurr'd cap, and his fword drawn; and there tell 'em plainly, that if, out of good nature, they will not like my play, I'gad, I'll e'en kneel down, and he mail cut my head off. Where- upon they all fall a clapping a Smi. Ay, but fuppofe they don't. Bayes. Suppofe ! Sir, you may fuppofe what you pleafe, I have nothing to do with your fup- pofe, Sir ; nor am not at all mortified at it : not at all, Sir ; I'gad, not one jot, Sir. Suppofe, quotha ! ha, ha, ha. [Walks away. Johnf. Phoo ! pr'ythee, Bayes, don't mind what he fays : he is a fellow newly come out of the country, he knows nothing of what's the re-^ li(h here of the town. Bayes. If I writ, Sir, to pleafe the country, I * To ivbicb end, my fir/} prologue is, &c.] " Vide the " two prologues to the Maiden Queen. C 3 fliould i THE REHEARSAL ihould have follow'd the old plain way : but I write for fome perfons of quality, and peculiar friends of mine, that underftand what flame and power in writing is ; and they do me right, Sir, to approve of what I do. Johxf. Ay, ay, they will clap, I warrant you ; never fear it. Bayes. I'm fure the defign's good ; that cannot be deny'd. And then, for language, I'gad,^ defy 'em all, in nature, to mend it. * Befides, Sir, I have printed above a hundred fheets of paper, to infmuate the plot into the boxes ; and withal, have appointed two or three dozen of my friends to be ready in the pit, who I'm fure will clap, and fo the reft you know muft follow ; and then, pray, Sir, what becomes of your fuppofe ? ha, ha, ha. John/. Nay, if the bufmefs be fo well laid, it cannot mifs. aye$. I think fo, Sir ; and therefore would * Befides, I have printed above a hundred Jbeets of paper, to infmuate the plot into the boxes.'} There were printed papers given the audience before the afting of the Indian Emperor, telling them that it was the fequel of the Indian Queen, part of which play was written by Mr. Bayes. chufe THE REHEARSAL. 23 chufe this to be the prologue. For, if I could en- gage 'em to clap, before they fee the play, you know it would be fo much the better, becaufe they were engaged ; for let a man write never fo well, there are, now a-days, a fort of perfons they call criticks, that I'gad*, have no more wit in them than fo many hobby-horfes ; but they'll laugh at you, Sir, and find fault, and cenfure things, that, _rga_d, I'm fure they are not able to do themfelves. : A fort of envious perfons, that emulate the glo- ries of perfons of parts, and think to build their fame, by calumniation of perfons, that, I'gad, to my knowledge, of all perfons in the world are, in nature, the perfons that do as much de- fpife all that as a-Lln fine) I'll fay no more of .. .--"* em. * Pgad, I 26 THE REHEARSAL. Bayes. 'Tis an Allufion of love. * So boar and fovv, when any florin is nigh, Snuff up, and fmell it gathering in the (ky : Boar beckons fow to trot in chefnut groves, And there confummate their unfinifh'd loves j Penfive in mud they wallow all alone, And fnore, and gruntle to each others moan. How do you like it now, hat John/, Faith, 'tis extraordinary fine; and very applicable to thunder and lightning, methinks, becaufe it fpeaks of a ftorm. Bay/es. I'gad, and fo it does, now I think on't ; Mr. Johnfon, I thank you ; and I put it inprofeffo. Come out Thunder and Lightning. * So boar amtfonu, &c.] Thefe verfe$ are in rid'cu^e of the following lines in the conqueft of Granada, part II. page 48. " So two kind turtles, \vhcn a ftorm is nigh, " Look up, and fee it gathering in the fky : " Each calls his mate to (belter in (he groves, " Leaving in murmurs their unf.nifh'd loves $ *' Perch'd en feme dropping branch, tliey fit alone, p. wo. UJb. 3 o THE REHEARSAL. UJh. And by your gait and fashion, I mould almofl fufpeft, you rule the healths of both our noble kings, under the notion of phyfician. Phyf. You hit my funftion right. UJh. And, you mine. Pbyf. Then let's embrace. UJh. Come. Phyf. Come. Johnf. Pray, Sir, who are thofe fo very civil perfons ? Bayes. Why, Sir, the gentleman-ufher, and phyfician of the two kings of Brentford. Jobnf. But, pray then, how comes it to pafs, that they know one another no better ? Bayes. Phoo ! that's for the better carrying on of the plot. Jchnf. Very well. Pbyf. Sir, to conclude. Smi. What, before he begins ? Bayes. No, Sir, you muft know, they had been a talking of this a pretty while without. Smi. Where ? in the tiring-room ? Bayes. Why, ay Sir. He's fo dull ! Come fpeak again. Pbyf. Sir, to conclude, the place you fill, has THE REHEARSAL 31 more than amply exadled the talents of a wary pilot, and all thefe threatning ftorms, which, like impregnate clouds, hover o'er our heads, will, when they once are grafp'd but by the eye of reafon, melt into fruitful Ihowers of bleflings on the people. Btiyts. Pray, mark that allegory. Is not that good ? Johnf. Yes, that grafping of a ftorm, with the eye, is admirable. Phyf* But yet fome rumours great are ftirring ; and if Lorenzo fhould prove falfe, (which none but the gods can tell) you then perhaps would find that \W&f$ers. Bayes. Now he whifpers. Ujb. Alone, do you lay ? Pbyf. No, attended with the noble \JVbifpers. Bayes. Again. UjJj. Who, he in gray ? Phyf. Yes, and at the head of \7Phifpers* Bayes. Pray, mark. U/h. Then, Sir, moft certain, 'twill in time appear. Thefe are the reafons that have mov'd him to't. Firrt, he [tyhifpers. i Bayes. 3 z THE RE H E A R S A L. Bayes. Now the other whifpers. UJh. Secondly, they \Wklfpers. jBayes. At it ftill. UJb. Thirdly, and laftly, both he, and they \Wb\fpen. Bayes. Now they both whifper. [Exeunt Wbifpering. Now gentlemen, pray tell me true, and without flattery, is not this a very odd beginning of a play? Johnf. In troth, I think it is, Sir. But why two kings of the fame place ? Bayes. Why ? Becaufe it's new ; and that's it I aim at. I defpife your Johnfon and Beaumont, that borrow'd all they writ from nature ; I am for fetching it purely out of my own fancy, I. 'Smi. But what think you of Sir John Suckling ? \Ba^e$. By gad, I am a better poet than he. Smi. Well, Sir, but pray why all this whif- pering. Bayes. Why, Sir, (befides that it is new, as I told you before) becaufe they are fuppofed to be politicians ; and matters of ftate ought not to be divulg'd. Smi. But then, Sir, why 2 Bayes. THE REHEARSAL. 33 Bnyes. Sir, if you'll but refpite your curiofity till the end of the fifth aft, you'll find it a piece of patience not ill recompens'd. [Goes to the door. Johnf. How doft thou like this Frank ? Is it not juft as I told thee ? Smi. Why, I did never before this fee any thing in nature, and all that, (as Mr. Bayes fays) fo foolifh, but I could give fome guefs at what mov'd the fop to do it ; but this, I confefs, does go be- yond my reach. Johnf. It is all alike ; * Mr. Winterfhall has inform'd me of this play already. And I'll tell thee, Frank, thou malt not fee one fcene here worth one farthing, or like any thing thou canft imagine has ever been the practice of the world. And then, when he comes to what he calls good language, it is, as I told thee, very fantaftical, moft abominably dull, and not one word to the purpofe. Smi. It does furprize me, I'm fure very much. Jobfjf. Ay, but it won't do fo long : by that time thou haft feen a play or two, that I'll (hew * Mr. William Winter flail, &c.] Mr. Winter/hall was a moft excellent, judicious aftor ; and the beft inftruflor of others : he died in July, 1679. VOL. I. D thee, 34 THE REHEARSAL. thee, thou wilt be pretty well acquainted with this new kind of foppery. Smi* Pox on't, but there's no pleafure in him ; he's too grofs a fool to be laugh'd at. Enter Bayes. Johnf. I'll fwear, Mr. Bayes, you have done this fcene moft admirably ; tho', I muft tell you, Sir, it is a very difficult matter to pen a whifper well. Bayes. Ay, gentlemen, when you come to write yourfelves, o'my word, you'll find it fo. Johnf. Have a care of what you fay, Mr. Bayes, for Mr. Smith there, I aflure you, has written a great many fine things already. Bayes. Has he, ifackins ? Why then pray, Sir, how do you do, when you write ? Sml. Faith, Sir, for the moft part, I am in pretty good health. Bayes. Ay, but I mean, what do you, when you write ? Smi. I take pen, ink and paper, and fit down. Bayes. Now, I write flanding j that's one thing : and then another thing is, with what do you pre- pare yourfelf ? Smi. THE REHEARSAL. 35 Smi. Prepare myfelf ! what the devil does the fool mean ? Bayes. Why, I'll tell you now, what I do. * If I am to write familiar things, as fonnets to Armida, and the like, I make ufe of ftew'd prunes only ; but when I have a grand defign in hand, I ever take phyfick, and let blood : for, when you would have pure fwiftnefs of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you muft have a care of the penfive part. In fine, you muft purge the belly. Smi. By my troth, Sir, this is a moft admirable receipt, for writing. Bayes. Ay, 'tis my fecrct ; and in good earned, I think one of the beft I have. Smi. In good faith, Sir, and that may very well be. Bayes. May be, Sir ! I'gad, I'm fure on't : ex- perto crede Roberto. But I muft give you this caution by the way, be fure you never take f fnuff, when you write. * If I am to 'write familiar things, &c.] This hu- morous account of Mr. Bayes's management of himfelf, is a banter upon Mr. Dryden's practice, which is alledged to have been much as here reprefented. f Be fure you never take fnuff, &c.] Mr. Dryden was a great taker of" fnufF, and made moft of it himfelf. D 2 Smi. 36 THE REHEARSAL. Smi. Whyfo, Sir? Bayes. Why, it fpoil'd me once, I'gad, one of the fparkifheft plays in all England. But a friend of mine at Grefham-College has promis'd to help me to fonie fpirit of brains, and I'gad that mail do my bufinefs. SCENE II. Enter the two Kings, band in hand. Bayes. Oh, thefe are now the two kings of Brentford ; take notice of their ftile : 'twas never yet upon the flage ; but if you like it, I could make a ihifr, perhaps, to mew you a whole play writ all juft fo. 1 King. Did you obferve their whifpers, bro- ther king ? 2 King. I did, and heard befides a grave bird fing. That they intend, fweet heart, to play us pranks. Bayes. This is now familiar, becaufe they are both perfons of the fame quality. Smi. S'death, this would make a man fpew. i King. If that defign appears, I'll lug 'em by the ears ; Until I make 'em crack. 2 King. THE REHEARSAL. 37 2 King. And fo will I, i'fack. 1 King. You muft begin, monfoy. 2 King. Sweet Sir, pardonnez may : Bnyes. Mark that : I make 'em both fpeak French, to fhew their breeding. jsbnf. O, 'tis extraordinary fine ! z King. Then fpite of" fate, we'll thus com- bined Hand ; And, like true brothers, walk ftill hand in hand. \Exeunt Reges. y I affure you. Ujh' I divide the queftion into when they heard, what they heard, and whether they heard or no. Johnf. Moft admirably divided, I fwear ! Ujh. As to the when ; you fay juft now : fo that is anfwered. Then as for what ; why, what an- fwers itfelf; for what could they hear, but what we talk'd of? fo that naturally, and of necefiity, we come to the laft queftion, viz. Whether they heard or no? Smi. This is a very wife fcene, Mr. Bayes. Bayes. Ay, you have it right ; they are both politicians. , Ujh. Pray then, to proceed in method, let me afk you that queftion. Pbyf. No you'll anfwer better, pray let me afk it you. Ujh. Your will muft be a law. Phyf. Come then, what is't I muft afk ? Smi. This politician, I perceive, Mr. Bayes, has fomewhat a fhort memor. 44 THE REHEARSAL. j Bayes- Why, Sir, you muft know, that t'other is the main politician, and this is but his pupil. UJb. You muft afk me whether they heard us whifper. Pbyf. Well I do fo. Ujh. Say it then. Smi. Hey day! here's the bravefl work that ever I faw. John/. This is mighty methodical! Bayes. Ay, Sir ; that's the way, 'tis the way of art j there is no other way, I'gad, in bufmefs. Phyf. Did they hear us whifper ? Ujh. Why, truly, I can't tell ; there's much to be faid upon the word whifper; to whifper, in Latin isfufurrare, which is as much as to fay, to fpeak foftly ; now, if they heard us fpeak foftly, they heard us whifper : but then comes in the quomodo, the how; how did they hear us whifper r Why, as to that, there are two ways ; the one by chance or accident, the other on purpofe ; that is, with defign to hear us whifper. Phyf. Nay, if they heard us that way, I'll never give 'em phyfkk more. UJi). Nor I e'er more- v/ill walk abroad before 'em. Bayes. THE REHEARSAL. 45 Bayes. Pray mirk this: for a great deal depends upon it, towards the latter end of the play. Smi. I fuppofe, that's the reafon why you brought in this fcene, Mr. Bayes. Bayes. Partly it was, Sir ; but I confefs, I was not unwilling befides, to fhew the world a pattern here, how men fhould talk of bufinefs. "^ohnf. You have done it exceeding well indeed. \ Bayes. Yes, I think, this will do. \ Pbyf. Well, if they heard us whifper, they'll turn us .out, .and no body elie will take us. '"'Smi. Not for politicians, I dare anfwer for it.-A' Phyf. Let's then no more ourfelves in vain be- moan: We are no fafe until we them unthrone. Ifjh. 'Tis right: And iince occafion now feems debonair, I'll feize on this, and you fliall take that chair. \T"hey draw their fwords, and Jit in the two great chairs upon thejiage.~\ Bayes. There's now an odd furprize * ; the * The whole flatus turn\l quite topjle Iwvy, &c.] Such eafy turns of ftate are frequent in our modern plays ; where we fee princes dethronM, and governments changed, by very feeble means, -iid on ilight occafioas : paitku- larly, 46 THE REHEARSAL. whole date's turn'd quite topfie-turvy, without any pother or ftir in the whole world. larly, in Marriage A-la-Mode ; a play, wrote fince the firft publication of this farce. Where (to pafs by the dulnefs of the ftate-part, the obfcurity of the comic, the near re - femblance Leonidas bears to our prince Pretty-man, being fometimes a king's fon, fometimes a fhepherd's ; and, not to queftion how Amalthea comes to be a princefs, her brother, the king's great favourite, being but a lord) 'tis worth our while to obferve, how eafily the fierce and jea- lous ufurper is depos'd, and the right heir plac'd on the. throne : as it is thus related by the faid imaginary prin- cefs. " Amal. Oh, gentlemen, if you have loyalty, " Or courage, fhew it now : Leonidas, " Broke on a fudikn from his guanls, and fnatching " A fword from one, his back againft the fcafFold, " Bravely defends himfelf ; and owns aloud * He is our long loft king, found for this moment ; " But if your valours help not, loft for ever. " Two of his guard?, mov'd by the fenfe of virtue, " Ai'e turn'd for him; and there they ftand at bay, " Againft a hoft of foes." Marriage A-la-Mode, p. 69. This fliews Mr. Baycs to be a man of conftancy, and firm to his refolution, and not to be laugh'd out of his own method : agreeable to what he fays in the next acl. " As long as I know my tilings are good, what care I " what they fay *" Jobnf. THE REHEARSAL. 47 . A very filent change of government, truly, as ever I heard of. Bayes. It is fo. And yet you fhall fee me bring 'em in again, by and by, in as odd a way every jot. [The ttfurpers march out fiourljhlng their /words.] Enter Shirley. Shir. Hey ho, hey ho ; what a change is here*! hey day! hey day! I know not what to do, nor what to fay, [Exit. Johnf. Mr. Bayes, in my opinion, now, that gentleman might have faid a little more upon this occafion. Bayes, No, Sir, not at all ; for I underwrit his part, on purpofe to fet off the reft. yohnf. Cry you mercy, Sir. Smi. But pray, Sir, how came they to depofe the kings fo eafily ? * Hey day, bey day ! I know not what to do, nor Bayes. What, Sir! 'flife, Sir, you fhould have come 64 THE REHEARSAL. come out in choler, rouze upon the ftage, juft as the other went off. Muft a man be eternally tell- ing you of thefe things ? Johnf. Sure this muft be fome very notable mat- ter that he's fo angry at. Smi. I am not of your opinion. Bayes. Pim ! come let's hear your part, Sir. Pret. Bring in my father j why d'ye keep him from me ? Altho' a fimer-man, he is my father : Was ever fon, yet brought to this diftrefs, To be, for being a fon, made fatherlefs ? Ah, you juft gods, rob me not of a father : The being of a fon take from me rather. Smi. Well, Ned, what think you now ? yohnf. A devil, this is worft of all. Mr. Bayes, pray what's the meaning of this fcene? Bayes. O, cry you mercy, Sir : I proteft I had forgot to tell you. Why, Sir, you muft know, that long before the beginning of this play, this prince was taken by a fiftierman. Smi. How, Sir, taken prifoner. Bayes. Taken prifoner ! O lord, what a que- ftion's there ! did ever any man alk fuch a queftion? Gadzookers, he has put the plot quite out of my headl THE REHEARSAL. 65 head, with this damn'd queftion. What was I going to fay ? jfobnf. Nay, the lord knows : I cannot imagine. Bayes. Stay, let me fee ; taken : O 'tis true. Why, Sir, as I was going to fay, hishighnefs here, the prince, was' taken in a cradle by a fiflierman, and brought up as his child. Smi. Indeed! Bayes. Nay, pr'ythee hold thy peace. And fo Sir, this murder being committed by the river- fide, the fifherman upon fufpicion, was feiz'd, and thereupon the prince grew angry. Smi. So, fo ; now 'tis very plain. Johnf. But, Mr. Bayes, is not this fome difpa- ragement to a prince, to pafs for a fifherman's fon ? Have a care of that, I pray. Bayes. No, no, not at all ; for 'tis but for a while : I (hall fetch him off again prefently, you mall fee. Enter Pretty-man and Thimble. Pret. By all the gods, I'll fet the world on fire, Rather then let 'em ravifh hence my fire. Thtm. Brave Pretty-man, it is at length reveal'd. That he is not thy fire who thee conceal'd. Bayes. Lo'you now; there he's off again. VOL. I. F Jobnf. 66 THE REHEARSAL. Jobtif. Admirably done i'faith. Bayes. Ay, now the plot thickens very much upon us. Pret. What oracle this darknefs can evince? Sometimes a timer's fon, fometimes a prince. It is a fecret, great as is the world ; In which I, like the foul, am tofs'd and hurl'd. The blackeft ink of fate, fure was my lot, And when me writ my name, (he made a blot. \Exit. Bayes. There's a bluftering verfe for you now. Smi. Yes, Sir ; but why is he fo mightily trou- bled to find he is not a fitherman's fon ? Bayes. Phoo ! that is not becaufe he has a mind to be his fon, but for fear he mould be thought to be no bodies fon at all. Smi. Nay, that would trouble a man indeed. Bayes. So, let me fee. SCENE V. Enter Prince Volfcius, going out of town. Smi* I thought he had been gone to Piccadilly. Bayes. Yes he gave it out fo : but that was only to cover his defign. Jobnf. What defign ? Bayes* THE REHEARSAL. 67 Bayes. Why to head the army, that lies con- cealed for him at Knights-bridge. Johnf. I fee here's a great deal of plot, Mr. Bayes. Bayes- Yes, now it begins to break; but we lhall have a world of more bufinefs anon. Enter PnWVolfcius, Cloris, Amaryllis, andHarry with a riding cloak and boots. Ama. Sir, you are cruel, thus to leave the town, And to retire to country folitude. Clo. We hop'd this fummer that we mould at leaft Have held the honour of your company. Bayes. Held the honour of your company ; prettily expreft, held the honour of your compa- ny ! Gadzookers, thefe fellows will never take notice of any thing. Johnf. I aflure you, Sir, I admire it extremely : I don't know what he does. Bayes. Ay, ay, he's a little envious ; but 'tis no great matter. Come. Ama. Pray let us two this fingle boon obtain, That you will here, with poor us, ftill remain. Before your horfes come, pronounce our fate, For then, alas ! I fear 'twill be too late. F 2 Bafs. 68 THE REHEARSAL. Bayes. Sad ! Vol. * Harry, my boots; for I'll range among My blades encamp'd, and quit this urban throng. SW. But pray, Mr. Bayes, is not this a little difficult, that you were faying e'en now, to keep an army thus conceal'd in Knights-bridge ? Bayes. In Knights-bridge ? ftay. Jobnf. No, not if inn-keepers be his friends. Bayes. His friends ! Ay, Sir, his intimate ac- quaintance ; or elfe indeed I grant it could not be. Smi. Yes, faith, fo it might be very eafy. Bayes. Nay, if I do not make all things eafy, I'gad, I'll give you leave to hang me. Now you would think that he's going out of town ; but you mall fee how prettily I have contriv'd to flop him prefently. * Harry my boots, &c.] In imitation of the following " Let my horfes be brought ready to the door, for I'll go out of town this evening." " Into the country I'll with fpeed, " With hounds and hawks my fancy feed, &c." " Now I'll away, a country life Shall be my miftrefs, and my wife." Englijb Monfeur, p. 36, 38, 39. 2 Smi. THE REHEARSAL. 69 Smi. By my troth, Sir, you have fo amaz'd me that I know not what to think. Enter Parthenope. Volf. Blefs me ! how frail are all my beft refolves ! How, in a moment, is my purpofe chang'd ! Too foon I thought myfelf fecure from love. * Fair madam, give me leave to afk her name, Who does fo gently rob me of my fame ? For I mould meet the army out of town, And if I fail, muft hazard my renown. Par. My mother, Sir, fells ale by the town-walls, And me her dear Parthenope (lie calls. Bayes. Now that's the Parthenope, I told you of. yobnf. Ay, ay, I'gad, you are very right. Volf. Can vulgar veftments high-born beauty fhroud ? fThou bring'ft the morning pidtur'd in a cloud. Bayes. The morning piftur'd in a cloud! Ah, gadzookers, what a conceit is there ! * Fair madam, give me leave to ajk her name.~\ ] Alluding to Mr. Dryclen's practice of dividing his plots among feveral plays, as in the Conqueft of Granada, I. and II. parts. Indian Emperor and Indian Qnten, &c. which THE REHEARSA L. 7$ which may be executed two feveral ways, wherein I'd have your opinion, gentlemen. Jobnf. What is't, Sir? Bayes. Why, Sir, J make a male perfon to be in love with a female. Smi. Do you mean that, Mr. Bayes, for a new thing ? Bayes. Yes, Sir, as I have order'd it. You mail hear : he having paffionately lov'd her through my five whole plays, finding at laft that me con- fents to his love, juft after that his mother had appear'd to him like a ghoft, he kills himfelf, that's one way : the other is, that me coming at laft to love him, with as violent a paflion as he lov'd her, fhe kills herfelf. Now my queftion is, which of thefe two perfons mould fuffer upon this occafion ? Jobnf. By ray troth, it is a very hard cafe to decide. Bayes. The hardeft in the world, Pgad, arid has puzzled this pate very much. W T hat fay you Mr. Smith ? . Smi. Why truly, Mr. Bayes, if it might ftand with your juftice now, I would fpare 'em both. Bayes. I'gad, and 1 think ha why then I'll make go THE REHEARSAL. make him hinder her from killing herfelf. Ay, it fhall be fo : come, come, bring in the funeral. Enter a funeral, with the two Ufurpen and Atten- dants. Lay it down there, no, no, here Sir: fo now fpeak. K. UJb. Set down- the funeral pile, and let our grief Receive from its embraces fome relief. K- Pbyf. Was't not unjuft to ravifh hence her breath, And in life's ftead, to leave us nought but death ? The world difcovers now its emptinefs, And by her lofs demonftrates we have lefs. Bayes. Is not this good language now? Is not that elevated? 'Tis my non ultra, I'gad. Youmuft know they were both in love with her. Smi. With her ; with whom ? Bayes. Why, this is Lardella's funeral. Smi. Lardella ! Ay, who is me ? Bayes. Why, Sir, the fifter of Drawcandr. *A * A lady that ivas drowned at fea, &c.] On feas I bore thee, and on feas I dy'd, Idy'd: THE REHEARSAL. 81 lady that was drown'd at fea, and had a wave for her winding-fheet. K. UJh. Lardella, O Lardella ! from above Behold the tragic iffues of our love. Pity us flaking under grief and pain, For thy being caft away upon the main. Bayes. Look you, now, you fee I told you true. Smi. Ay, Sir, and I thank you for it, very kindly. Bayes. Ay, I'gad, but you will not have pati- ence ; honeft Mr. a you will not have patience. Johnf. Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that Draw- canfir. Bayes. Why, Sir, a fierce hero, that frights his miftrefs, fnubbs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, without regard to numbers, good manners, orjuftice. Johnf. A very pretty character. Smi. But, Mr. Bayes, I thought your heroes had ever been men of great humanity and juftice. Bayes. Yes, they have been fo ; but, for my part, I prefer that one quality of fmgly beating " I dy'd : and for a winding fheet, a wave ' I had ; and all the ocean for my grave."' ConqueJI of Granada, part. II. p. 113. VOL. I. G 9 f 8 2 THE REHEARSAL. of whole armies, above all your moral virtues put together, Fgad. You fhall fee him come in pre- fently. Zookers, why don't you read the paper ? [To the players. K. Phyf. O, cry you mercy ! Baycs. Pirn ! Nay, you are fuch a fumbler. Come, I'll read it myfelf. [Takes a paper from off the coffin. Stay, its an ill hand, I muft ufe my fpe&acles. This, now, is a copy of verfes, which I make Lar- della compofe juft as me is dying, with a defign to have it pin'd upon her coffin, and fo read by one of the ufurpers, who is her coufin. Srni. A very fhrewd defign that, upon my word, Mr. Bayes. Bayes. And what do you think, now, I fancy her to make love like here in the paper ? Smi. Like a woman, what mould me make love Jike? Bayes. O' my word, you are out though, Sir, I'gad you are ! Sml. What then, like a man ? Bayes. No, Sir, like a humble-bee. Smi. I confefs, that I fhould not have fancy'd. Bayes. It may be fo, Sir ; but it is tho', in order to THE REHEARSAL. 8; to conform to the opinion of fome of your ancient philofophers, who held the tranfmigration of the foul. Smi. Very fine. Bayes. I'll read the title. To my dear couz, King Phyf. Smi. That's a little too familiar with a king, tho', Sir, by your favour, for a humble-bee. Bayes. Mr. Smith, in other things, I grant your knowledge may be above me ; but, as for poetry, give me leave to fay, I underftand that better ; it has been longer my practice ; it has indeed, Sir. Pray mark it. [Reads. * Since t'eath my earthly part will thus remove, I'll come a humble-bee to your chafte love. * Since death, &c.] In ridicule of thefe lines. ' -My earthly part, ' Which is my tyrant's right, death will remove, " I'll come, all Ibul and fpirit, to your love : " With filent fteps I'll follow you all day j *' Or elfe before you in the fun -beams play. I'll lead you thence to melancholy groves, " And there repeat the fcenes of our pad loves. k " At night, I will within your curtains peep ; With empty arms, embrace you, while you fleeps G^ "In 84 THE REHEARSAL. With filent wings I'll follow you, dear couz ; Or elfe before you in the fun-beams buz. And when to melancholy groves you come -\ An airy ghoft, you'll know me by my hum ; > For found, being air, a ghoft does well become. 3 Smi. (nfter a paufe) Admirable! Bay a. At night into your bofom I will creep, And buz but foftly, if you chance to fleep ; Yet in your dreams I will pafs fweeping by, And then both hum and buz before your eye; Jobnf. By my troth that's a very great promife. Smi. Yes, and a moft extraordinary comfort to boot. Eayes. Your bed of love from dangers I will free; But moft from love of any future bee. ' In gentle dreams I often will be by, " And fweep along before your clofing eye j *' All dangers from your bed I will remove, *' But guard it moft from any future love. " And when at laft in pity you will die, " I'll watch your birth of immortality : ' Then, turtle-like, I'll to my mate repair, ** And teach you your firft flight in open air." Tjrannick Love, p. 15. And THE REHEARSAL. 85 And when with pity your heart-firings {hall crack, With empty arms I'll bear you on my back. Smi. A pick-a-pack, a pick-a-pack. Bayes. Ay, I'gad, but is not that tuant now, ha ? Is it not tuant? Here's the end. Then at your birth of immortality, -i Like any winged archer, hence I'll fly, > And teach you your firft flutt'ring in the fky. 3 Johnf. O rare ! This is the moft natural, refin'd fancy that ever I heard of, I'll fwear. Bayes. Yes, I think for a dead perfon, it is a good enough way of making love : For being di- verted of her terreftrial part, and all that, me is only capable of thefe little, pretty, amorous de- figns that are innocent, and yet paflionate. Come, draw your fwords. K. Pbyf. Come, fword, come fheath thyfelf within this breaft, Which only in Lardella's tomb can reft. K> Ujh. Come dagger, come, and penetrate this heart, Which cannot from Lardella's love de- part. G 3 Enter 86 THE REHEARSAL. Enter Pallas. Pal. Hold, flop your murdering hands, At Pallas's commands j For the fuppofed dpad, O kings, Forbear to aft fuch deadly things. Lardell-a lives, I did but try If princes for their loves could die. Such celeflial conftancy Shall by the Gods rewarded be : And from thefe funeral obfequies A nuptial banquet mall arife. [The coffin opens, artel 'a banquet is difcover'd. ayes. So, take away the coffin. Now its out: This is the very funeral of the fair perfon which Volfcius fent word was dead ; and Pallas, you fee, has turn'd it into a banquet. Smi. Well, but where is the banquet ? Baycs. Nay, look you, Sir, we muft firft have a dance, for joy that Lardella is not dead. Pray, Sir, give me leave to bring in my things properly at leaft. Smi. That indeed I had forgot : I afk your par- don. Bayes. Q, d'ye fo, Sir? I am glad you will confefs yourfelf once in an error, Mr. Smith. Dance. THE REHEARSAL. 87 Dance. K. UJb. Refplendent Pallas, we in thee do find The fierceft beauty, and a fiercer mind: And fince to theeLardella's life we owe, We'll fupple ftatues in thy temple grow. K. Phyf. Well, fince alive Lardella's found, Let in full bowls her health go round. [The two Ufurpers take each of them a bcwl in their hands. K. UJh. But where's the wine. Pal. That mall be mine. *Lo, from this conqu'ring lance, Does flow the pureft wine of France. [Fills the bowls out of her lance. And, to appeafe your hunger, I Have in my helmet brought a pye : Laftly, to bear a part with thefe, Behold a buckler made of cheefe. \yemijh Pallas. * Lo from tins conquering lance, &c.] See the fcene of The Villain, p. 47, Sec. where the hoft furni/hes his guefts with a collation out of his cloaths ; a capon from his hel- met, a tanfey out of the lining of his cap, cream out of his fcabbard, &c. G 4 Bayet. 88 THE- REHEARSAL. Bayes, There's the banquet. Are you fatisfy'd now, Sir, Johnf. By my troth, now, that is new, and more than I expefted. Bayes. Yes, I knew this would pleafe you : For the chief art in poetry is to elevate your expec- tation, and then bring you off fome extraordinary way, Enter Drawcanfir. K. Phyf. What man is this, that dares difturb our feaft? Draw, *He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die, And knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I. Johnf. That is, Mr. Bayes, as much as to fay, that, tho' he would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink for all that too. Bayes. Right; that's the conceit on't, * What man is that, &c.] In imitation of *< Almab. Who dares to interrupt my private walk? " Altnan. He who dares love, and for that love muft die, <* And, knowing this, dares yet love on, am I. Granada, part, II. p. 115. Jobnf. THE REHEARSAL S 9 Jobnf. 'Tis a marvellous good one, I fwear. Bayes. *Now, there are fome criticks that have advifed me to put out the fecond Dare, and print Mujl in the place on't; but, I'gad, I think 'tis better thus a great deal. Johnf. Whoo ! a thoufand times ! Bayes. Go on then. K. UJb. Sir, if you pleafe, we fhould be glad to know, How long you here will flay, how foon you'll go? Bayes. Is not that now, like a well-bred per- fon, I'gad ? So modefl, fo gent ! Smi. O, very like : Draw, fYou (hall not know how long I here will flay, But you fhall know I'll take your bowls away. [Snatche: the bowls out of the ting's bands, and drinks 'em off". * Now there are fome criticks, &c.] The paflage laft cited from the conqueft of Granada, was at firft wrote, " He who dares love, and for that love dares die," but was afterwards amended to mujt die. f You Jhall not know, &c.] In imitation of, " Alman. I would not now, if thou would' ft beg me, ftayj *< But I will take my Almahide away." [&* 9 o THE REHEARSAL.. Smi. But, Mr. Bayes, is that, too, modeft and gent? Hayes. No, Pgad, Sir ; but 'tis great. K. UJb. Tho', brother, this grum ftranger be a clown, He'll leave us fure a little to gulp down. Draw. * Whoe'er to gulp one drop of this dares think, I'll flare away his very power to drink. \TTie two King's fneak aff the ft age with their atten- dants. fl drink, I huff, [ ftrut, look big, and ftare, And all this I can do, becaufe I dare. {Exit. * Wroe'er to gulp, &c.] In ridicule of this, *' Attnejn. Thou dar'ft not marry her, while I'm in fight ; ' With a bent brow, thy prieft, and thee, I'll fright: " And, in that fcene, which fliould thy hopes content, ." The thoughts of me mall make thee impotent." Granada, p. 32. f I drink, I buff, &c.] Spite of myfelf, I'll ftay, fight, love, defpair : f' And all this I can do, becaufe I dare." Granada, part II. p. 89. Smi. THE REHEARSAL. Vi Smi. I fuppofe, Mr. Bayes, this is the fierce hero you fpoke of? Bayes. Yes, but this is nothing: You fhall fee him, in the laft aft, win above a dozen battles, one after another, I'gad, as faft as they can poflibly come upon the ftage. Jobnf. That will be a fight worth the feeing in- deed, Smi. But, pray, Mr. Bayes, why do you make the kings let him ufe 'em fo fcurvily ? Bayes. Phoo ! That is to raife the character of Drawcanfir. Johnf. O' my word, that was well thought on. Bayes. Now, Sirs, I'll fhew you a fcene indeed, or rather, indeed, the fcene of fcenes : 'Tis an heroic fcene. Smi. And, pray, Sir, what's your defign in this fcene t Bayes. Why, Sir, my defign is guilded trun- cheons, forc'd conceit, fmooth verfe, and a rant: In fine, if this fcene do not take, I'gad, I'll write no more. Come, come in Mr a nay, come in as many as you can. Gentlemen, Imuft delire you to remove a little, for I muft fill the ftage. $mi. Why, fill the ftage ? Bayes, 9 i THE REHEARSAL. Bayes. O, Sir, becaufe your heroic verfe never founds well, but when the ftage is full. SCENE II. Enter Prince Pretty-man and Prince Volfcius. . Bayes. Nay, hold, hold ; pray, by your leave a little. Look you, Sir, the drift of this fcene is fomewhat more than ordinary : for I make 'em both fall out, becaufe they are not in love with the fame woman. SmL Not in love ? you mean, I fuppofe, be- caufe they are in love, Mr. Bayes. Bayes. No, Sir, I fay not in love; there's a new conceit for you. Now fpeak. Prtt. Since fate, prince Volfcius, now has fouhd the way, For our fo long'd-for meeting here this day, Lend thy attention to my grand concern. Volf. I gladly would that ftory from thee learn ; But thou to love doft Pretty-man incline, Yet love in thy breaft, is not love in mine. Bayes. Antithefis. Thine and mine. Pret. Since love itfelf's the fame, why fhould it be Differing in you from what it is in me? Bayes, THE REHEARSAL. $J Sayes. Reafon! I'gad, I love reafoning in verfe. Volf. Love takes, Camelion-llke, a various dye, From every plant on which itfelf does lye. Bayes. Simile ! Pret. Let not thy love the courfe of nature fright, Nature does moft in harmony delight. Volf. How weak a deity would nature prove, Contending with thepow'rfulgodof love? Sayes, There's a great verfe ! Volf, If incenfe thou will offer at the flirine, Of mighty love, burn it to none but mine. Her rofy lips eternal fweets exhale ; And her bright flame makes all flames elfe look pale. Bayes. I'gad, that is right. Pret. Perhaps dull incenfe may thy love fuifice ; But mine muft be ador'd with facrifice. All hearts turn afhes, which her eyes con- troul, The body they confume as well as fouL My love has yet a power more divine ; Vi&ims her altars burn not, but refine: Amidft the flames they ne'er give up the ghoft; But with her looks, revive ftill as they roaft. la 94. THE REHEARSAL* In fpite of pain and death, they're kept alive, Her fiery eyes make 'em in fire furvive. Hayes. That is as well, I'gad, as I can do, Volf. Let my Parthenope at length prevail. Bayes. Civil, I'gad. Pret. I'll fooner have a paflion for a whale : In whofe vaft bulk, tho' ftore of oil doth lie, We find more fhape, more beauty in a fty. Smi. That's uncivil, I'gad. Bayes. Yes, but as far a fetch'd fancy tho', I'gad, as e'er you faw. Volf. Soft, Prettyman, let not thy vain pretence Of perfed love, defame love's excel- lence. Parthenope is fure as far above All other loves, as above all is love. Bayes. Ah ! I'gad, that (hikes me. fret. To blame my Cloris, gods would not pretend. Bayes. Now mark. Volf. Were all gods join'd, they could not hope to mend My THE REHEARSAL. 9- My better choice ; for fair Parthenope,. *Gods would, themfelves, ungod them- felves to fee. Bayes. Now the rant's a-coming. Pret. f Durft any of the gods be fo uncivil, I'd make that god fubfcribe himfelf a devil. Bayes. Ay, gadzookers, that's well writ ! [Scratching bis bead^ bis peruke falls off", Volf. Couldft thou that god from heaven to- earth tranflate, He could not fear to want a hcav'nly ftate; Parthenope on earth can heav'n create.. * Gods would, tbemfd'vs}, ungoJ tbemftlvft to fee,~\ " Max. Thou lyeft. There's not a god inhabits thr, " But, for this chriftian, would all heaven forfwear: " Ev'n Jove would try new fliapes her love to win, "1 " And in new birds, and unknown beafts would Cn } > c; At leaft, if Jove cou'd love like Maximin." J Tjrannick Lo*ve t p. ;. f Durft any of the go Js, &c.] ' Some god now, if he dare relate what paft, Say but he's dead, that god fhail moital be/' Ibid. p. 7. " Provoke 9$ THE REHEARSAL. Pret. Cloris does heaven itfelf fo far excell, She can tranfcend the joys of heav'n in hell. Bayes. There's a bold flight for you 'now : S'death I have loft my peruke. Well, gentlemen, this is what I never yet faw any one could write but myfelf. Here's true fpirit and flame all through, I'gad. So, fo, pray clear the ftage. [He puts 'em off the /I age. Jobnf. I wonder how the coxcomb has got the knack of writing fmoothverfe thus. Sml. Why, there's no need of brain for this : Tis but fcanning the labours on the finger ; but where's the fenfe of it ? Jobnf. O, for that he defires to be excufed: *he is too proud a man to creep fervily after fenfe, " Provoke my rage no farther, left I be " Reveng'u at once upon the gods, and thee." Tyrannick Lovf, p. 8. '* What had the gods to do- with me or mine ?" Ib. p. 57. * He ii too proud a man, &c.] Alluding to the follow- ing paffage in the prologue to Tyrannick Love. " Poets, like lovers, mould be bold and dare; " They fpoil their bufinefs with an over-care ; '* And he, who lervily creeps after fenfe, " " Is fafe ; but ne'er can reach to excellence." 2 I allure THE REHEARSAL. 97 I afftire you. But pray, Mr. Bayes, why is this fcene all in verfe ? Bayes. O> Sir, the fubjeft is too great for profe. Smi. Well faid, i'faith, I'll give thee a pot of ale for that anfwer ; 'tis well worth it. Bayes. Come, with all my heart. " I'll make that god fubfcribe himfelf a devil." That fingle line, I'gad, is worth all that my bro- ther poets ever writ. Let down the curtain. \_Exeunt* END OF THE FOURTH ACT* ACT V. SCENE L Bayes, and the two gentlemen, > Gentlemen, I will be bold to fay, I'll mew you the greatefl fcene that ever England faw : I mean not for words> for thofe I don't value ; but for ftate, (hew, and magnificence. In fine, I'll juftify it to be as grand to the eye, every whit, I'gad, as that great fcene in Harry VJIL\ VOL. I. H and 9 8 THE REHEARSAL, and grander too, I'gad ; for inftead of two billiopj, I bring in here four cardinals. The curtain is drawn up, the two tifurping Kings appear inflate, ivith-t-he four Cardinals, Prince Pretty-man, Prince Volfcius, Amarylis, Cloris, Parthenope, &c. before tbefn heralds, and Ser- jeants at arms, with marm Smi. Mr. Bayes, pray what is the reafon that two of the cardinals are in hats, and the other in caps ? Bayes. Why, Sir, becaufe ----- By gad, I won't tell you. Your country-friend, Sir, grows fo trou- K,UJh. Now, Sir, to the bufmefs of the day. K. Phyf. Speak Volfcius. Folf. Dread fovereign lords, my zeal to you muft not invade my duty to your fon ; let me in- treat that great prince Pretty-man firft do fpeak ; whofe high pre-eminence, in all things do bear the name of good, mav juMy {Jaim that privilege. Bayes. Here rrBegins to unfold; you may per- ceive, now, that he is his fon. Johnf. Yes, Sir, and we are very much beholden to you for that difcovery. Prct. THE REHEARSAL. 99 Pret. Royal father, upon my knees I beg, That the illuftrious Volfcius firft be heard. Yolf, That preference is only due to Amaryllis, Sir. Bayes. I'll make her fpeak very well, by and by, you mall fee. Ama. Invincible fovereigns \&ft mujlck. K. UJb. * But ftay, what found is this invades our ears? K. Phyf. Sure 'tis the mufick of the moving fpheres. Pret. Behold with wonder, yonder comes from far A god-like cloud, and a triumphant car : In which our two right kings fit one by one, With virgins vefts, and laurel garlands on. K. U/h. Then brother Phys, 'tis time we mould be gone. [The two UfurpcrsJIcal out .of the throne, and go awny, K. But JJay, what found is this invades our ears ?] 11 What various noiil-s r'o rnv ears invade ; - " And have a concert of ccnfufion made?" Siege of Rhodes, p. 4. H Z Bayes. ioo THE REHEARSAL, Bayes. Look you now, did not I tell you, that this would be as eafy a change as the other ? Smi. Yes faith you did fo, tho' I confefs, I could not believe you ; but you have brought it about I fee. [The two right kings of Brentford defcend in the clouds^ finging^ in white garments ; and three fiddlers fitting before them in green, Bayes. Now becaufe the two right kings defcend from above, I make 'em fing to the tune and ftik of our modern fpirits. 1 King, *Hafte brother king, we are fent from above, 2 King. Let us move, l^t us move ; Move, to remove the fate Of Brentford's long united ftate. 1 King. Tarra, tan, tarra, full eaft and by fouth # 2 King. We fail with thunder in our mouth. * Hafle brother king, &c. *' Naker. Hark, my Damilcar, we are calTd below : " Daniel. Let us go, let us go ; " Go, to remove the care " Of longing lovers in deipair, &rc." Tyrannick Love, p. 26. THE REHEARSAL. 101 In fcorching noon-day, whilft the tra- veller flays, Bufy, bufy, bufy, bufy, we buftle along. Mounted upon warm Phaebus his rays, Through the heavenly throng, Hailing to thofe Who will feafl us at night, with a pig's petty toes, 1 King. And we'll fall with our plate In an Olio of hate. 2 King. But nowfupper's done, thefervitors try, Like foldiers, to florm a whole half _ moon-pye, 1 King. They gather, they gather hot cuflards in fpoons, But, alas, I muft leave thefe half moons, And repair to my trufly dragoons. 2 King. O flay, for you need not as yet go a- -j ftray, ' I The tide, like a friend, has brought \ ihips in our way ; And on their high ropes we will play : j Like maggots in filberds, we'll fnug in our fhell, We'll frifk in our fhell, H 3 We'll ioz THE REHEARSAL. We'll frifk in our mell. And farewel. 1 King. But the ladies have all inclination to dance, And the green frogs croak out a coranto of France. Bayes. Is not that pretty now ? The fiddlers are all in green. Smi. Ay, but they play no coranto. Joknf. No, but they play a tune that's a great deal better, Bayes. No coranto, quotha! That's a good one, with all my heart. Come fmg on. 2 King. Now mortals that hear, How we tilt and career, With wonder will fear Th' event of fuch things as fhall never appear. 1 King. Stay you to fulfil what the gods have decreed, 2 King. Then call me to help you, if there fhall be need. i.King. So firmly refolv'd is a true Brentford king, To fave the diftreired, and help to 'enx bring ; That THE REHEARSAL. T-.J That e're a full pot of good ale you can fwallow, He's>here with a whoop, and gone with a hallo. [Bay es fillips his finger, andfings after J em. Bayes. He's here with a whoop, and gone with a hallo. *This, Sir, you muft know, I thought once to have brought in with a conjurer. Jobnf. Ay, that would have been better. Bayes. No faith, not when you confider it : for thus it is more compendious, and does the thing every whit as well. Smi. Thing! what thing? Bayes. Why, bring 'em down again into the throne^Sir ; what thing would you have ? Smi. Well, but methinks the fenfe of this fong is not very plain. Bayes. Plain ! Why, did you ever hear people in the clouds fpeak plain ? they muft be all for night of fancy, at its full range, without the leaft check or controul upon it. When once you tie * This, Sir, you mitfl tnonu, I thought once to have brought in with a conjurer.] See fuch a contrivance in e, aft iv. fcene i . H 4 up 104 THE REHEARSAL. / up fpirits and people in clouds to fpeak plain, yoq fpoil all. Srnl. Blefs me, what a monfter's this ! [The two Kings 'light out of the clouds, andjtep into the throne. 1 King. Come, now to ferious counfel we'll ad- vance, ^ 2 King. I do agree, ;bnt firft let's have. a dance.) Bayes. Right : you did that very well Mr. Cart- wright : but firft, let's have a dance. Pray re- member that ; be lure you do it always juft fo : for it muft be done as if it were the effeft of thought, and premeditation. But firft let's have a dance* Pray remember that. Smi. Well, I can no longer, I muft gag this rogue ; there's no enduring of him. Johnf. No, pr'ythee make ufe of thy patience a little longer : let's fee the end of him now. |-: [Dance a grand dance. I Bayes. This now is an ancient dance, of right i belonging to the kings of Brentford ; but fince de- riv'd, with a little alteration, to the inns of court. An Alarm. Enter two Heralds. I King. What faucy groom molefts our pri- vacies ? i Her. THE REHEARSAL 105 1 Her. The army's at the door, and in difguife, Defires a word with both your majefties. 2 Her. Having from Knights-bridge hither march'd by Health, 2 King. Bid 'em attend a while and drink our health. Smi. How, Mr. Bayes ? the army in difguife? Bayes* Ay, Sir, for fear the ufurpers might dif- pover them that went out but juft now. Smi. Why, what if they had difcover'd them ? Bayes. Why, then they had broke the defign. 1 King. Here, take five guineas for thofe war- like men. 2 King. And here's five more ; that makes the fum juft ten. I Her* We have not feen fo much, the lord knows when. [Exeunt Heralds. i King. Speak on, brave Amaryllis. Ama. Invincible fovereigns, blame not my mo- defty, If at this grand conjun&ure [Drums beat behind thejlage, i King. *What dreadful noife is this that comes and goes ? * i King. What dreadful noife is Ms, &c.] What io6 THE REHEARSAL; Enter a Soldier with bhfword drawn. Said. Hafte hence, great Sirs, your royal perfons fave, For the event of war no mortal knows : The army, wrangling for the gold you gave, Firft fell to words, and then to handy blows. [Exit. Bayes. Is not that now a pretty kind of a ftanza, and a handfome come off? 2 King. O dangerous eflate of fovereign power, Obnoxious to the change of every hour! I King. Let us for flicker in our cab'net ftay: Perhaps thefe threat'ning florms may pafs away. [Exeunt. Joknf. But, Mr. Bayes, did not you promife us juft now to make Amaryllis fpeak very well. Bayes. Ay, and fo me would have done, but that they hinder'd her. Smi. How, Sir, whether you would or no ? What new misfortunes do thefe cries prefage ? i Meff. Hafle all you can, their fury to afTwage : You are not fafe from their rebellious rage. i Miff. This minute, if you grant not their defire, They'll feize your perfon, and your palace fire. Grenada, part II. p. 71. Bayes. THE REHEARSAL. 107 Bayes. Ay, Sir, the plot lay fo, that, I vow to gad, it was not to be avoided. Stni. Marry, that was hard. yobnf. But pray, who hinder'd her? Bayes. Why the battle, Sir ; that's juft coming in at the doorjj and I'll tell you now a ftrange - thig-r?fio*T don't pretend to do more than other men, Fgad I'll give you both a whole week to guefs how I'll reprefent this battle. Smi. I had rather be bound to fight your battle, J affure you, Sir. Bayes. Whoo ! there's it now : fight a battle, there's the common error. I knew prefently where I Ihould have you. Why, pray Sir, do but tell me this one thing, can you think it a decent thing, in a battle before ladies, to have men run their fwords through one another, and all that ? yohnf. No faith, 'tis not civil. Bayes. Right on the other fide, to have a long- relation of fquadrons here, and fquadrons there : what is it but dull prolixity ? Johnf. Excellently reafon'd by my troth. Bayes. Wherefore, Sir, to avoid both thofe in- decorums, * I fum up my whole battle in the re- * I fum up my ivLole battle, &c.] There needs nothing more xo8 THE REHEARSAL. 1 prefentation of two perfons only, no more : and yet fo lively, that I vow to gad, you would fwear ten thoufand men were at it really engag'd. Do you mark me ? SmL Yes, Sir ; but I think I mould hardly fwear tho' for all that. Bayes. By my troth, Sir, but you would tho' when you fee it : for I make 'em both come in, in armour cap-a-pee^ with their fwords drawn, and hung with a fcarlet ribbon at their wrift, which you know, reprefents fighting enough. Jobnf. Ay, ay, fo much, that if I were in your place, I would make 'em go out again without fpeaking one word. Bayes. No, there you are out j for I make each i of 'em hold a lute in his hand. Smi. _How, Sir ? inftead of a buckler ? -^*~~Eayes. O lord, O lord ! inftead of a buckler ? Pray, Sir, do you afk no more queftions. I make 'em, Sir, play the battle in recitative. And here's the conceit. Juft at the very fame inftant that more to explain the meaning of this battle, than the perufal of the firft part of the Siege of Rhodes, which was perform'd in recitative mufick, by feven perfons only : and the paflage out of the Pkiy-boitfe to be let. THE REHEARSAL. 109 one fings, the other, Sir, recovers you his fword, and puts himfelf in a warlike pofture : fo that you have at once your ear entertain'd with mufick and good language ; and your eye fatisfied with the garb and accoutrements of war. Smi. 1 confefs, Sir, you ftupify me. Bayes. You mail fee. Jobnf. But, Mr. Bayes, might not we have a little fighting ? for I love thofe plays where they cut and flafh one another upon the ftage, for a whole hour together. Bayes. Why then, to tell you true, I have con- triv'd it both ways. But you fhall have my red" tativo firft. Jobnf. Ay, now you are right : there is nothing then can be objected againft it. Bayes. True, and fo, I'gad, * I'll make it,- too, a tragedy in a trice. Enter at fe-veral doers, the general and lieu- tenant-genera^ anrfd cap-a-pee, with each of them a lute in his hand^ and his fword * I'll make it, too, a tragedy in a trite.] Algaura, and the Veftal Virgin are fo contriv'cl, by a little alteration towards the latter end of "them, that they have been a&ed both ways, either as tragedies or comedies. drawn, io THE REHEARSAL. drawn, and bung with a fear let ribbon at his wrijt. Lieut. Gen. Villain, thou lyeft. Gen. * Arm, arm, Gonfalvo, arm ; what ho ? The lye no flefh can brook I trow. Litut. Gen.. Advance from Acton, with the muf- queteers. Gen. f Draw down the Chelfey curafliers. * Arm, arm, Gonfalvo, arm.} The Siege of Rhodes begins thus. " Admiral. Arm, arm, Valerius, arm." -J- Gen. Draw do 2 Play. Why, fo much the better; then let's go to dinner. I Play. Stay, here's a foul piece of paper : let's fee what 'tis. 3 0r 4 Play. Ay, ay ; come, let's hear it. [Reads the argument of the fifth aJ, 3 Play. Cloris at length, being fenfible of prince Pretty-man's paflion, confents to marry him ; but, juft as they are going to church, Prince Pretty- I 4 man no THE REHEARSAL. man meeting by chance with old Joan, the chand ler's widow, and remembring it was me that firfr, brought him acquainted with Cloris ; out of a high point of honour, breaks off his match with Cloris, and marries old Joan. Upon which Cloris, in defpair, drowns herfelf; and Prince Pretty-man difcontentedly walks by the river-fide. This will never do j 'tis juft like the reft. Come, let's be gone. [Exeunt. Mojl of the Play- Ay, pox on't, let's be gone. Enter Bayes. Bayes. A plague on them both for me, they have made me fwe'at to run after 'em. A couple, of fenfelefs rafcals, that had rather go to dinner than fee this play out, with a pox to 'em. What comfort has a man to write for fuch dull rogues ? Come, Mr a Where are you. Come away, quick, quick. Enter Stage- Keeper-. Stage. Sir, they are gone to dinner. Bayes. Yes, 1 know the gentlemen are gone; but I a(k for the players. Stage. Why, an't pleafe your worfnip, Sir, the players are gone to dinner too. THE REHEARSAL. iai Bayes. How ! are the players gone to dinner ? 'Tis impoffible : The players gone to dinner ! J'gad, if they are, I'll make 'em know what it is to injure a perfon that does them the honour to write for 'em, and all that. A company of proud conceited, humorous, crofs-grain'd perfons, and all that. I'gad I'll make 'em the moft contemp- tible, defpicable, inconfiderable perfons, and all that, in the whole world, for this trick. I'gad I'll be reveng'd on 'em ; I'll fell this play to the other houfe. Stage. Nay, good Sir, don't take away the book ; you'll difappoint the company that comes to fee it afted this afternoon. Bayes. That's all one. I muft referve this com- fort to myfelf, my play and I lhall go together, we will not part indeed, Sir. Stage. But what will the town fay ? Bayes. The town ! why, what care I for the town ? I'gad the town has us'd me as fcurvily as the players have done : but I'll be reveng'd on them too ; for I'll lampoon them all. And fince they will not admit of my plays, they (hall know what a fatyrift I am. And fo farewel to this ftage, J'gad, for ever. [Exit Bayes. Enter siz THE REHEARSAL. Enter Players. 1 Play. Come, then, let's fet up bills for ano- ther play. 2 Play. Ay, ay ; we mall lofe nothing by this, I warrant you. 1 Play. I am of your opinion : but, before we go, let's fee Haynes and Shirley pra&ife the laft dance ; for that may ferve us another time. 2 Play. I'll call 'em in : I think they are but in the tiring-room. [The dance done. i Play. Come, come ; let's go away to dinner. E P I. EPILOGUE. A H E play is at an end, but where's the plot ? That circumftance the poet Bayes forgot. And we can boaft, tho' 'tis a plotting age, No place is freer from it than the ftage. The ancients plotted tho', and ftrove to pleafe, With fenfe that might be underftood with eafe : They ev'ry fcene with fo much wit did ftore, That who brought any in, went out with more. But this new way of wit does fo furprize, Men lofe their wits in wondering where it lies. If it be true that monftrous births prefage, The following mifchiefs that afflift the age ; And fad difafters to the Hate proclaim : Plays, without head or tail, may do the fame. Wherefore for ours, and for the kingdom's peace, May this prodigious way of writing ceafe. Let's have, at leaft, once in our lives, a time, When we may hear fome reafon, not all rhyme ; We have this ten years felt its influence ; Pray, let this prove a year of profe and fenfe. THE CHANCES. COMEDY, PROLOGUE. Y^/F all men, thofe have reafon leaft to care, For being laugh'd at, who can laugh their mare : And that's a thing our author's apt to ufe, Upon occafion, when no man can chufe. Suppofe now, at this inftant, one of you Were tickled by a fool, what would you do ? 'Tis ten to one you'd laugh: here's juft the cafe. For there are fools that tickle with their face. Your gay fool tickles with his drefs and motions, But your grave fool of fools, with filly notions. Is it not then unjuft that fops mould ftill Force one to laugh, and then take laughing ill ? Yet fmce perhaps to fome it gives offence, That men are tickl'd at the want of fenfe ; Our author thinks he takes the readieft way, To mew all he has laugh'd at here fair play. For if ill writing be a folly thought, Correfting ill is fure a greater fault. Then gallants laugh, but chufe the right place firfl, For judging ill is, of all faults, the worft. Dramatis DRAMATIS PERSONA. Duke of Ferrara. Petruchio, governor of Bolognia. Don John, 7 two Spanifh gentlemen and Don Frederick, 3 comerades. Antonio, an old flout gentleman, Kinfman td Petruchio. Three gentlemen, friends to the Duke. Two gentlemen, friends to Petruchio. Francifco, a mufician, Antonio's boy. Peter Vecchio, a teacher of Latin and rmifick, a reputed wizard. Peter and ? two fervants to Don John and Anthony, j Frederick. A Surgeon. WOMEN. Conftantia, Sifter to Petruchio, and Miftrefs to the Duke. Gentlewoman, Servant to Conftantia. Old gentlewoman, landlady to Don John and Frederick. Conftantia, a whore to old Antonio* Bawd. THE; THE CHANCES. A C T I. S C E N E I. Enter Peter and Anthony, two Servants. Pet. W OUL D we were removed from this town, Anthony. That we might tafte fome quiet : for my own part, I'm almoft melted with continual trotting After inquiries* dreams and revelations, Of who knows whom or where, ferving wenching foldiers ! I'll ferve a prieft in Lent firft, and eat bell-ropes. Ant. Thou art the forward'ft fool- - Pet. Why, good tame Anthony ? Tell me but this ; to what end came we hither ? Ant. To wait upon our mailers. Pet. But how, Anthony ? An Aver me that. Refolve me there, good Anthony. Ant. To ferve their ufes. Pet. Shew your ufcs, Anthony. Ant. To be employed in any thing. Pet. No, Anthony ; Not any thing, I take it ; nor that thing VOL. I. K We i 3 o THE CHANCES. We travel to difcover, like new iflands ; A fait itch, ferve fuch ufes ! In things of moment, Concerning things I grant ye, not things errant : Sweet ladies things, and things to thank the fur- geon : In no fuch things, fweet Anthony ; put cafe Ant. Come, come, all will be mended : this invifible woman, Of infinite report for fhape and beauty, That bred all this trouble to no purpofe, They are determin'd now no more to think on. Pet. Were there ever Men known to run mad with report before ? Or wander after what they know not where To find ? or, if found, how to enjoy ? Are men's brains Made now a-days of malt, that their affe&ions Are. never fober, but like drunken people Founder at every new fame r I do believe That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men Are ever loving. Ant. Pr'ythee, be thou fober, And know that they are none of thofe, not guilty Of the leaft vanity in love, only a doubt Fame might too far report, or rather flatter The THE CHANCES. ijr The graces of this woman, made them curious To find the truth, which fmce they find ft> Lock'd up from their fearches, they are now refolv'd To give the wonder over. Pet. Would they were refolv'd To give me fome new moes too : for I'll be fworn Thefe are e'en worn out to the reafonable foals In their good worfhips bufmefs : and fome fleep Would not do much amifs, unlefs they mean To make a bell-man of me. Here they come. [Exeunt. Enter Don John and Frederick. John. I would we could have feen her tho' : for fure She muft be fome rare creature, or report lyes, All men's reports too. Fred. I could well wifh I had feen Conftantia ; But, fince fhe is fo conceal'd : plac'd where No knowledge can come near her ; fo guarded As 'twere impoffible, tho' known, to reach her, I have made lip my belief. John. Hang me from this hour, If I more think upon her ; But, as fhe came a ftrange report unto me, So the next fame fhall lofe her, K 2 ijt T Hfc CHANCES. Fred. 'Tis the bed way : But whither are you walking ? "John. My old round, After my meat, and then to bed. Fred. 'Tis healthful. John. Will not you ftir ? Fred. I have a little bufmefs. John. I'd lay my life this lady ftill Fred. Then you would lofe it. John. Pray let's walk together. Fred. Now I cannot. John. I have fomething to impart. Fred. An hour hence I will not mifs to meet you. John. Where? Fred. P th f high-ftreet ; For, not to lye, I have a few devotions To do firft, then I am yours. John. Remember. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two gentlemen- Ant. Cut his wind-pipe,t fay. i Gent. Fie, Antonio^ Ant. THE CHANCE 6. 135 Ant. Or knock his brains out firft, and then forgive him. If you do thruft, be fure it be to th' hilts, A furgeon may fee thro' him. 1 Gent. You are too violent. 2 Gent. Too open, undifcreet. Petr. Am I not ruin'd ? The honour of my houfe crack'd ? my blood poifon'd ? My credit and my name ? 2 Gent. Be fure it be fo, Before ye ufe this violence. Let not doubt, And a fufpefting anger fo much fway you ; Your wifdom may be queftion'd. Ant. I fay, kill him, And then difpute the caufe ; cut off what may be, And what is fhall be fafc. 2 Gent. Hang up a true man, Becaufe 'tis poflible he may be thievifh : Alas, js this good 'uftice ? Petr. I know as certain As day muft come again ; as clear as truth, And open as belief can lay it to me, That I am bafely vjong'd, wrong'd above recom- pence, K 3 Mallei- i 34 THE CHANCES. Malicioufly abus'd, blafted for ever, In name and honour, loft to all remembrance, But what is fmear'd and fhameful j I muft kill him, Neceffity compels me. 1 Gent. But think better. Petr. There is no other cure left ; yet witnefs with me All that is fair in man, all that is noble, I am not greedy of. this life I feek for, Nor thirft to fhed man's blood ; and would 'twere pofiible, I wim it with my foul, fo much I tremble To offend the facred image of my Maker, My fword could only kill his crimes ; no, 'tis Honour, honour, my noble friends, that idol ho- nour, That all the world now worfhips, not Petruchio, Muft do this juftice. Ant. Let it once be done, And 'tis no matter, whether you or honour, Or both be accelfary. 2 Gent. Do you weigh, Petruchio, The value of the perfon, power, and greatnefs, And what this fpark may kindle ? Petr, To perform it, So THE CHANCES. 135 So much I am ty'd to reputation, And credit of my houfe, let it raife wild fires, And ftorms that tofs me into everlafting ruin. Yet I muft through, if ye dare fide me. Ant, Dare ? Petr. Y' are friends indeed, if not. 2 Gent. Here's none flies from you, Do it in what deflgn you pleafe, we'll back ye. 1 Gent. Is the caufe fo mortal, nothing but his life? Petr. Believe me, A lefs offence has been the defolation Of a whole name. 2 Gent. No other way to purge it ? Petr. There is, but never to be hop'd for. ^ Gent. Think an hour more, And if then you find no fafer road to guide you, We'll fet our refts too. Ant. Mine's up already, And hang him for my part, goes lefs than life. 2 Gent. If we fee noble caufe, 'tis like our fwords May be as free and forward as your words. [Exeunt. K4 SCENE 136 THE CHANCES. SCENE III. Enter Don John. ycbn. The civil order of this city Naples, Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all travellers. As a moft fafe retirement in all troubles ; Befides, the wholfome feat and noble temper Of thofe minds that inhabit it, fafely wife, And to all ftrangers courteous ; but I fee, My admiration has drawn night upon me, And longer to expedl my friend, may pull me Into fufpicion of too late a ftirrer, Which all good governments are jealous of. I'll home, and think at liberty : yet certain, 'Tis not fo far night as I thought : for fee, A fair houfe yet ftands open, yet all about it Are clofe ; and no light's flirring ; there may be foul play ; I'll venture to look in ; if there be knaves, 1 may do a good office. \Woman within. Jtftbtn. Signior ! John. What ? how is this ? fyitbin. Signer Fabricio ! 'John. I'll go nearer. IVithin. Fabricio ! THE CHANCES. 137 yobn. This is a woman's tongue, here may be good done. Within. Who's there ? Fabricip ? John. Ay. Within. Where are you ? John. Here. jyithin. O come for heaven's fake ! John. I muft fee what this means. Enter Woman with a child. IVlthin. I have ftay'd this long hour for you ; make no noife: For things are in ftrange trouble here ; be fecret, 'Tis worth your care ; be gone, now, more eyes watch us Than may be for our fafeties. John. Hark ye. Within. Peace, good night. [Exit, John. She's gone, and I am loaden, fortune for me, It weighs well, and it feels well ; it may chance To be fome pack of worth. By the mafs, 'tis heavy ; If it be coin or jewels, it is worth welcome: .I'll ne'er refufe a fortune j I am confident 'Tisj i 3 8 THE CHANCES. 'Tis of no common price : now to my lodging : If it be right, I'll blefs this night. [Exit. SCENE IV. Enter Don Frederick. Fred. 'Tis ftrange, I cannot meet him; fure he has encounter'd Some light o' love or other, and there means To play at in and in for this night. Well, Don John, If you do fpring a leak, or get an itch, Till you claw off your curl'd pate, then your night walks You muft ftill be a boot-haling ; one round more, Tho' it be late, I'll venture to difcover you, 1 do not like your out-leaps. [Exit* SCENE V. Enter Duke, and three Gentlemen. Duke. Welcome to town, .are ye all fit? 1 Gent. To point, Sir. Duke. Where are the horfes ? 2 Gent. Where they were appointed, Duke. Be private, and whatfoever fortune Offer itfelf, let us ftand fure. 3 Gent. THE CHANCES. * 3? 3 Gent. Fear us not. J Ere you ihall be endanger'd, or deluded, We'll make a black night on't. Duke- No more, I know it ; You know your quarters. 1 Gent. Will you go alone, Sir ? Duke. Ye mall not be far from me, the leaft noife Shall bring you to my refcue. 2 Gent. We are counfell'd. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter Don John. yobn. Was ever man fo paid for being curious ? Ever fo bobb'd for fearching out adventures, As I am? Did the devil lead me? Muft I needs be peeping Into men's houfes where I had no bufinefs, And make myfelf a mifchief ? 'tis well carried; J mufl take other men's occafions on me, And be I know not whom: moft finely handled: What have I got by this now ? what's the pur- chafe ? A piece of evening arras work, a child, Indeed an infidel: This comes of peeping: A lump I40L THE CHANCES. A lump got out of lazinefs j good white bread, Let's have no bawling with ye : 'Sdeath, have I Known wenches thus long, all the ways of wenches, Their fnares and fubtilties ? have I read over All their fchool learning, div'd into their quid-, dities, And am I now bum-fiddl'd with a baftard, Fetch'd over with a card of five, and in my old days, After the dire maflacre of a million Of maidenheads, caught the common way, 'ith* night too, Under another's name, to make the matter Carry more weight about it ? Well, Don John, You will be wifer one day, when you've purchas'd A bevy of thofe butter-prints together, With fearching out concealed iniquities, Without commrflion : why, it would never grieve me, If I had got this ginger-bread: never ftirr'd me So I had a ftroke for't : it had been juftice Then to have kept it ; but to raife a dairy For other men's adulteries, confume myfelf in candles, And fcouring work, in nurfes, bells, and babies, Only THE CHANCES. 141 Only for charity, for meer 1 thank you, A little troubles me : the leafl touch for it, Had but my breeches got it, it had contented me Whofe e'er it is. Sure it had a wealthy mother, For 'tis well cloath'd, and, if I be not cozen'd, Well lin'd within : to leave it here were barbarous, And ten to one would kill it ; a worfe fin Than his that got it : well, I will difpofe on't, And keep it, as they keep death's heads in rings, To cry momenta to me ; no more peeping : Now all the danger is, to qualify The good old gentlewoman, at whcfe houfe we live ; For me will fall upon me with a catechifm Of four hours long : I muft endure all ; For I will know this mother: come, good wonder, Let you and I be jogging : your ftarv'd treble Will waken the rude watch elfe : all that be Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee. [Exit. SCENE VII. Enter Frederick. Fred. Sure he's gone home: I have beaten all the purlieus, i But i.4 THE CHANCES. But cannot bolt him : if he be a-bobbing, 'Tis not my care can cure him ; to-morrow morn- ing I mall have further knowledge from a furgeon. Where he lies moor'd to mend his leaks. Enter i Conftantia. Con. I am ready, And through a world of dangers am flown to you; Be full of hafte and care, we are undone elfe : Where are your people ? which way muft we travel ? For heaven's fake flay not here, Sir. Fred. What may this prove ? Con. Alas, I am miftaken, loft, undone, For ever perifh'd : Sir, for heaven's fake tell me, Are you a gentleman ? Fred. I am. Con. Of this place ? Fred. No, born in Spain. Con. As ever you lov'd honour, As ever your defires may gain their ends, Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit, For I am forc'd to truft ye. Fred. Y've charm'd me, Huma THE CHANCES. 143 Humanity and honour bids me help you ; And if I fail your truft Con. The time's too dangerous To ftay your proteflations : I believe you, Alas ! I mufl believe you : from this place, Good noble Sir, remove me inftantly. And for a time, where nothing but yourfelf, And honeft converfation may come near me, In fome fecure place fettle me. What I am, And why thus boldly I commit my credit Into a ffcranger's hand, the fears and dangers That force me to this wild courfe, at more leifure I mall reveal unto you. Fred. Come be hearty. He muft ftrike through my life that takes You from me. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen. Petr. He will fure come. Are ye all well arm'd? Ant. Never fear us : Here's that will make 'eir dance without a fiddle. Petr. We are to look for no weak foes, my friends, Nor unadviled ones. 2 Ant. i$4 THE CHANCES. Ant. The beft gamefters make the beft play^ We mall fight clofe and home then. i Gent. Antonio, You are a thought too bloody. Ant. Why? all phyficians And penny almanacks allow the opening Of veins this month: Why do ye talk of bloody ? What come we for ? to fall to cuffs for apples ! What, would you make the caufe a cudgel quarrel? Petr. Speak foftly, gentle coufim Ant. I will fpeak truly; What lliould men do ally'd to thefe difgraces* Lick o'er his enemy, fit down, and dance him ? 2 Gent. You are as far o'th' bow hand now* Ant. And cry, That my fine boy, thou wilt do fo no more child* Petr. Here are no fuch cold pities. Ant. By St. Jaques, They (hall not find me one ! here's old tcmgh Andrew, A fpecial friend of mine, if he but hold, I'll ftrike 'em fuch a horn-pipe: knocks I come for, And the beft blood I light on; I profefs it, Not THE CHANCES; 145 Not to fcare coftermongers ; if I lofe my own, My audit's loft, and farewel five and fifty. Petr. Let's talk no longer, place yourfelves with filence^ As I directed ye; and when time calls u, As ye are friends, fo mew yourfelves. Ant. So be it. [Exeunt. SCENE IX. Enter Don John and his Land-lady. Land. Nay, fon, if this be your regard. John. Good mother. Land. Good me no goods, your coufin and yourfelf Are welcome to me, whilft you bear yourfelves Like honeft and true gentlemen : bring hither To my houfe, that have ever been reputed A gentlewoman of a decent and fair carriage, And fo behaved myfelf ! John. I know you have* Landi Bring hither, as I fay, to make my name Stink in my neighbours noftrils, your devices, Your brats got out of Allicant, and broken oaths ! Your linfey-wolfey work, your hafty-puddings ! I fofter up your filch'd iniquities ! VOL. I. L Y'are 146 THE CHANCES. Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am none Of thofe receivers. John. Have I not fworn unto you, >Tis none of mine, and fhew'd you how I found it ? Land. Ye found an eafy fool, that let you get it. John. Will you hear me? Land. Oaths ! What care you for oaths to gain your ends, When ye are high and pamper'd? What faint know ye ? Or what religion, but your purpos'd lewdnefs, Is to be look'd for of ye ? nay, I will tell ye, You will then fwear like accus'd cut-purfes, As far off truth too; and lye beyond all falconers: I'm fick to fee this dealing. John. Heaven forbid, mother. Land. Nay, I am very fick. John. Who waits there } Pet. Sir? (within.) John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. Land. Exceeding fick, heaven help me. John. Hafte ye, Sirrah, I muft e'en make her drunk ; nay, gentle mother, Land. Now fie upon ye, was it for this purpofe You THE CHANCES. 147 You fetch'd your evening walks for your devotions, For this pretended holinefs ? no weather, Not before day, could hold ye from the mattins. Were thefe your bo-peep prayers ? y'vc pray'd well, And with a learn'd zeal watch'd well too: your faint It feems was pleas'd as well : ftill ticker, ficker ! Enter Peter with a bottle of wine. John. There is no talking to her till I have drench'd her. Give me; here, mother, take a good round draught, 'Twill purge fpleen from your fpirits: deeper, mother. Land. Ay, ay, fonj you imagine this will mend all. John. AH, ay faith, mother. Land. I confefs the wine Will do his part. John. I'll pledge ye. Land, But, foil John. John. I know your meaning, mother ; touch it once more. Alas ! you look not well, take a round draught, Li It 148 THE CHANCES. It warms the blood well, and reftores the colour, And then well talk at large. Land. A civil gentleman ! A ftranger! one the town holds a good regard of! John. Nay I will filence the there. Land. One that fhould weigh his fair name ! oh, a ftitch ! John. There's nothing better for a ftitch, good mother; Make no fpare of it ; as you love your health, Mince not the matter. Land. As I faid, a gentleman, Lodged in my houfe ! now heaven's my comfort, Sighior ! John. I look'd for this. Land. I did not think you would have us'd me thus; A woman of my credit ; one, heaven knows, That loves you but too tenderly. John. Dear mother, I ever found your kindnefs, and acknowledge it. Land, No, no, I am a fool to counfel you* Where's the infant ? Come, let's fee your workmanmip. John, THE CHANCES. 149 John, None of mine, mother; But there 'tis, and a lufty one. LnndC Heav'n blefs thee, Thou hadft a hafty making; but the bed is, 'Tis many a good man's fortune : as I live, Your own eyes, Signior ; and the neither lip As like you, as you had fpit it. John. 1 am glad on't. Land. Blefs, me, what things are thefe ? John. I thought my labour Was not all loft, 'tis gold, and thefe are jewels, Both rich }/ and right I hope. Land. Well, well, fon John, I fee ye're a woodman, and can chufe Your deer, tho' it be i'th' dark, all your difcretion Is not yet loft ; this was well clap'd aboard : Here I am with ye now, when, as they fay, Your pleafure comes with profit ; when you muft needs do j Do where you may be done to, 'tis a wifdom, Becomes a young man well: be fure of one thing, Lofe not your labour and your time together, It feafons of a fool ; fon, time is precious, \Vork warily whilft you have it; fmce you myft traffic L 3 Sometimes i 5 o THE CHANCES. Sometimes this flippery way, take fure hold, Sig- nior, Trade with no broken merchants, make your lading As you would make your reft, adventuroufly, But with advantage ever. John. All this time, mother, The child wants looking to, wants meat and nurfes. Land. Now blefling o'thy heart, it (hall have all, And inftantly; I'll feek a nurfe myfelf, fon: 'Tis a fweet child ; ah my young Spaniard ! Take you no further care, Sir. John. Yes of thefe jewels, I muft by your good leave, mother ; thefe are yours, To make your care the ftronger ; for the reft I'll find a mafter : the gold for bringing up on't I freely render to your charge. Land* No more words, Nor any more children, good fon, as you love me. This may do well. "John. I mall obferve your morals. But where's Don Frederick, mother ? Land. Ten to one About the like adventure; he told me He was to find you out. [Exit. John. THE CHANCES. 15* John. Why mould he flay thus ? There may be fome ill chance in't : deep I will not, Before I have found him. Now this woman's pleas'd, I'll feek my friend out, and my care is eas'd. [Exit. SCENE X. Enter Duke and three Gentlemen. I Gent. Believe, Sir, 'tis as poflible to do it, As to move the city ; the main faftion Swarms through the ftreets like hornets, and with angers Able to ruin flates, no fafety left us, Nor means to die like men, if inftantly You draw not back again. Duke. May he be drawn And quarter'd too, that turns now ; were I more fure Of death than thou art of thy fears, and of deaths More than thofe fears are too I Gent. Sir, I fear not. L 4 Duke. 154 THE CHANCES. Duke. I would not break my vow, ftart from my honour, Becaufe I may find danger ; wound my foul, To keep my body fafe. i Gent. I fpeak not, Sir, Out of a bafenefs to you. Duke. No, nor do not Out of a bafenefs leave me : what is danger More, than the weaknefs of our apprehenfions ? A poor cold part o'th' blood : who takes it hold of ? Cowards and wicked livers : valiant minds Were made the mafters of it, and as hearty fea- men, In defperate florins, ftem with a little rudder The tumbling ruins of the ocean; So with their caufe and fword :> do they do dangers. Say we were fure to die all in this venture, As I am confident againft it ; is there any Amongft us of fo fat a fenfe, fp pamper'd, Would chufe luxurioufly to lie a-bed, And purge away his fpirits ? fend his foul out In fugar-fops, and fyrups ? give me dying As dying out to be, upon mine enemy, Parting with mankind, by a man that's manly : Let THE CHANCES. 153 Let 'em be all the world, and bring along Cain's envy with them, I will on. 2 Gent. You may, Sir, But with what fafety? i Gent. Since 'tis come to dying, You (hall perceive, Sir, that here be thofe amongftus Can die as decently as other men, And with as little ceremony. On, brave Sir. Duke. That's fpoken heartily, i Gent. And he that flinches, May he die loufy in a ditch. Duke. No more dying, There's no fuch danger in't: What's a clock ? 3 Gent. Somewhat above your hour. Duke. Away then quickly, Make no noife, and no trouble will attend us. [Exeunt , SCENE XL Enter Frederick and Anthony with a candle. Fred. Give me the candle : fo, go you out that way. there it goes : my mailer's bo-peeps with me, With his fly popping in and out again, Argu'd a caufe, hark ! [Lute founds Pet. What? Ant. Doft not hear a lute ? Again ! Pet. Where is't? 4nt. Above, in my mailer's chamber. THE CHANCES. 167 Pet. There's no creature : he hath the key himfelf, man. Ant. This is his lute ; let him have it. [Sing within a lit tit Pet. I grant you ; but who ftrikes it ? Ant. An admirable voice too, hark you. Pet. Anthony, Art fure we are at home ? Ant. Without all doubt, Peter. Pet. Then this muft be the devil. Ant. Let it be. Good devil fing again: O dainty devil? Peter, believe it, a moft delicate devil, The fweeteft devil Enter Frederick and Don John. Fred. If you would leave peeping. John. I cannot, by no means. Fred. Then come in foftly ; And as you love your faith, prefume no farther Than ye have promifed. John. Bafco. Fred. What make you up fo early, Sir ? John. You, Sir, in your contemplations i Pet. O pray ye peace, Sir. M 4 Frtd. i8 THE CHANCES. Fred, Why peace, Sir ? Pet. Do you hear ? John. "*Tis your lute. She's playing on't. Ant. The houfe is haunted, Sir ; For this we have heard this half year. Fred. Ye faw nothing ? Ant. Not I. Prf. Nor I, Sir. Fred. Get you our breakfaft then, And make no words on't; we'll undertake thisfpirit, Jf it be one. Ant. This is no devil, Peter, Mum, there be bats abroad. [Exeunt ambo* Fred. Stay, now me {ings. John. An angels voice I'll fvvear. Fred. Why did'ft thcu fhrug fo ? Either allay this heat ; or as I live J will not truft you. John. Pafs ; I warrant ye. [Exeunt. Enter ift Conftantia. Con. To curfe thofe ftars that men fay govern us, To rail at fortune, to fall out with fate, And tax the gen'ral world, will help me nothing : Alas ! I am the fame ftill, neither are they Subjeft THE CHANCES. 169 Subjefl to helps or hurts ; our own defires Are our own fates ; our own ftars, all our fortunes, Which, as we fway 'em, fo abufe or blefs us. Enter Frederick, and Don John peeping, Fred. Peace to your meditations. John. Pox upon you, Stand out o' th' light. Con. I crave your mercy, Sir ; My mind o'ercharged with care made me un- mannerly. Fred. Pray you fet that mind at reft, all mall be perfeft. John. I like the body rarely ; a handfome body, A wondrous handfome body ; would me would turn ; See, and that fpightful puppy be not got Between me and my light again. Fred. 'Tis done, As all that you command fhall be : the gentleman Is fafely off all danger. "John. Rare creature ! Con. How mall I thank you, Sir? how fatisfy ? Fred. Speak foftly, gentle lady, all's rewarded; Now c':oes he melt like marmalade. \_aftde. John. Nay, 'tis certain, Thou 170 THE CHANCES. Thou art the fweeteft woman, that eyes e'er look'd on. Fred. Has none difturb'd you I Con. Not any, Sir, nor any found come near me, I thank your care, Fred. 'Tis well. John. I would fain pray now, \afide. But the devil, and that flefli there, O th' world ! What are we made to fu.ffer ? Fred. He'll enter ; Pull in your head and be hang'd, John. Hark ye, Frederick, I have brought you home your paek-faddle. Fred. Pox upon you. Con. Nay, let him enter : fie, my lord the duke, Stand peeping at your friends ! Fred. You are cozen'd lady. Here's no duke, Con. I know him full well, Signior. yobn. Hold thee there, wench. Fred. This mad-brain'd fool will fpoil all. Con. I do befeech your grace come in. yobn. JVTy grace ! There was a word of comfort. Fred. THE CHANCES. 171 Fred. Shall he enter, Who e'er he be ? John. Well followed Frederick, Con. With all my heart. Enter Don John, Fred. Come in then. John. Blefs you lady. Fred. Nay, Hart not, though he be a ftranger to you, He's of a noble ftrain, my kinfman, lady, My countryman, and fellow-traveller ; O,ne bed contains us ever, one purfe feeds us, And one faith free between us j do not fear him, He's truly honeft. John. That's a lye. [afide. Fred. And trufty : Beyond your wifhes : valiant to defend, And modeft to converfe with, as your blufhes. John. Now may I hang myfelf ; this commen- dation Has broke the neck of all my hopes ; for now Muft I cry, no forfooth, and ay forfooth, and furely, And truly as I live, and as I am honeft. H/as done thefe things for nonce too j for he knows, Like 17* THE CHANCES. Like a mofl envious rafcal as he is, I am not honeft This way : h'as watch'd his time, But I mall quit him. Con. Sir, I credit you : Fred. Go falute her, John. John. Plague o' your commendations. Con. Sir, I mall now defire to be a trouble. John. Never to me, fweet lady, thus I feal My faith, and all my fervice. Con. One word, Signior. John. Now 'tis impoflible I fhould be honeft. What points me at? my leg, I warrant; or My well-knit body : fit faft, Don Frederick. Fred, 'Twas given him by that gentleman You took fuch care of, his own being loft i'th* feu me. Con. With much joy may he wear it : 'tis a right one, I can afTure you, gentlemen ; and right happy May he be in all fights, for that noble fervice. Fred. Why do ye blufh ? Con. 'T had almoft cozened me ; For not to lye, when I faw that, I look'd for Another owner of it : but 'tis well. Fred. THE CHANCES. 173 Fred- Who's there? [Knock within. Stand you a little clofe: come in, Sir. Enter Anthony. Now what's the news with you ? Ant. There is a gentleman without Would fpeak with Don John. John. Who, Sir? Ant. \ do not know, Sir, but he fhews a man Of no mean reckoning. John, Let him mew his name, And then return a little wifer. [Exit Anthony. Fred. How do you like her, John ? "John. As well as you, Frederick, For all I am honelt; you mail find it too. Fred. Art thou not honefl? John. Art thou an afs ? " And modeft as her blufhes r" what a blockhead Would e'er have popp'd out fuch a dry apology For his dear friend? and to a gentlewoman, A woman of her youth, and delicacy ? Thefe are arguments to draw them to abhor us. An honeft moral man ! 'tis for a conftable : A handfome man, a wholefome man, a tough man, A liberal man, a likely man, a man Made i?4 THE CHANCES. IVfa-de up like Hercules, unflack'd with fervice : The fame to-night, to-morrow night, the next night, And fo to perpetuity of pleafures; Thefe had been things to hearken to, things catching; But you have fuch a fpic'd confideration, Such qualms upon your worfhip's confcience, Such chilblains in your blood, that all things prick you, Which nature, and the liberal world makes cuflom ; And nothing but fair honour, O fweet honour ! Hang up your eunuch honour : that I was trufty, And valiant, were things well put in ; but modeft ! A modeft gentleman ! O wit, where waft thou ? , Fred. I am forry, John. 'John. My lady's gentlewoman Would laugh me to a fchool-boy, make me bluih With playing with my cod-piece point: fyonthee, A man of thy difcretion ! Fred. It mail be mended; And henceforth you fhall have your due. Enter Anthony. John. I look for'f : how now, who is't ? An THE CHANCES. 175, Jut. A gentkman of this city, And calls himfelf Petruchio. Jtbn. m attend him. Enter Conftanti*. CM. How did he call himfelf? Fred. Petruchio, Does it concern you ought ? Cm. O gentlemen, The hour of my deftruction is come on me, I am difcover'd, loft, left to my ruin : As ever ye ha* pity Jfbn. Do not fear, Let the great devil come, he flail come through mefiift: Loft here, and we about you ! Fred. Fall before us ! Cr. O my unfortunate eftate, all angers Compared to his, to his Fred. Let his, and all men's, Whil'ft we have power and life, ftand up for heaven's fake. Csx. I have offended heaven too; yet hearen knows Jtba. We are all evil: z Ye i 7 $ f II E. CHANCE S. Yet heaven forbid we fhould have our defertSi What is he ? Con. Too, too near to my offence, Sir : O he will cut me piece-meal. Fred. 'Tis no treafon ? John. Let it be what it will : if he cut here> I'll find him cut-work. Fred. He muft buy you dear, With more than common lives. John. Fear not, nor weep : By heaven I'll fire the town before you perifh, And then the more the merrier, we'll jog with yom Fred. Come in, and dry your eyes. John. Pray no more weeping, Spoil a f\veet face for nothing ! my return Shall end all this I warrant you. Con. Heaven grant it may. [Exeunt i S C E N E III. Enter Petruchio ivitb a letter- Petr. This man mould be of quality and worth* By Don Alvaro's letter j for he gives No flight recommendations of him : I'll e'en make ufe of him. i Enter THE CHANCES: x 77 Enter Don John. John. Save you, Sir: lam forry My bufmefs was fo unmannerly, to make you Wait thus long here. Pttr. Occafions muft be ferv'd, Sir : But is your name Don John? John. It is, Sir. Petr. Then, Firft for your own brave fake I muft embrace you: Next, for the credit of your noble friend Hernandi dc Alvaro^ make ye mine: Who lays his charge upon me in this letter To look you out, and, Whilft your occafions make you refident In this place, to fupply you, love and honour you; Which had I known fooner John. Noble Sir, You'll make my thanks tbo^poor : I wear a fword, Sir, And have a fervice to be ftill difpos'd of, As you fiiall pleafe command it. Pttr. That manly courtefy is half my bufmefs, Sir, And to be ftiort, to make you know I honour you, And in all points believe your worth-like oracle ; This day Petruchio, VOL. I. N A man i 7 8 THE CHANCES. A man that may command the ftrength of this place, Hazard the boldeft fpirits, hath made choice Only of you, and in a noble office. John. Forward, I am free to entertain it. Petr. Thus then : I do befeech you mark me. John. I mall, Sir. Petr. Ferrara's duke, would I might call him worthy, But that he has raz'd out from his family, As he has mine with infamy. This man, Rather this powerful monfter, we being left But two of all our houfe, to ftock our memories, My fifter Conftantia and myfelf; with arts and witchcrafts, Vows, and fuch oaths heaven has no mercy for, Drew to dishonour this weak maid, by ftealth, And fecret paffages I knew not of; Oft he obtain'd his wifhes, oft abus'd her, I am afham'd to fay the reft : this purchas'd, And his hot blood allay'd, he left her, And all our name to ruin. John- This was foul play, And ought to be rewarded fo. 2 Petr. THE CHANCES; 17$ Petr. I hope fo ; He fcap'd me yefternight : Which if he dare again adventure for John. Pray, Sir, what commands have you to lay on me ? Petr. Only thus ; by word of mouth to carry him A challenge from me, that fo, if he have honour in him, We may decide all difference between us. John, Fair, and noble, And I will do it home : When mail I vifit you? Petr. Pleafe you this afternoon, I will ride with you ; For, at a caftle fix miles hence, we are fure To find him. 'John. I'll be ready. Petr. My man mail wait here, To condudl you to my houfe. John. 1 (hall not fail you, Sir. [Exit Petruchio. Enter Frederick. Fred. How now ? John. All's well, and better than thou could'ft expeft, for this wench here is certainly no maid ; and I have hopes flie is the fame that our two N 2 curious i8o: T H E CHANCES. curious coxcombs have been fo long a-hunting after. Fred. Why do ye hope fo ? John. Why ? becaufe firlt fhe is no maid, and next becaufe fhe's handfome ; there are two rea- fons for you : now do you find out a third, a better if you can. For take this, Frederick, for a cer- tain rule, fince flie loves the fport, flie'll never give it over ; and therefore (if we have good luck) in time may fall to our mares. Fred. Very pretty reafons indeed ! But I thought you had known fome particular, that made you conclude this to be the woman. John. Yes, I know her name is Conftantia. Fred. That now is fomething; but I cannot be- lieve her dimoneft for all this : flie has not one loofe thought about her. John. It's no matter, (he's loofe i'th' hilts, by heaven. There has been flirring, fumbling with linen, Frederick. Fred. There may be fuch a flip. John. And will be, Frederick, whilft the old game's a-foot. I fear the boy, too, will prove hers I took up. Fred. Good circumftances may cure all this yet. i John. THE CHANCES. iSt John. There thou hit'ft it, Frederick; come let's walk in, and comfort her ; that me is here is no- thing yet fufpe&ed. Anon I fhall tell thee why her brother came, (who, by this light, is a noble fellow) and what honour he has done to me, a ftranger, in calling me to ferve him. There be irons heating for fome, on my word, Frederick. [Exeunt. END OF THE SECOND ACT. ACT III. SCENE I. Enter Landlady and Anthony. , Sir, who is it keeps your mafter company ? Ant. I fay to you, Don John. Land. I fay what woman ? Ant. I fay fo too. Land. I fay again I will know. Ant. I fay 'tis fit you mould. Land. And I tell thee he has a woman here. Ant. And I tell thee 'tis then the better for him. Land. Was ever gentlewoman N 3 So i8i THE CHANCES. So frumpt off with a fool? well, faucy Sirrah, I will know who it is, and to what purpofe ; I pay the rent, and I will know how my houfe Comes by thefe inflammations: if this geer hold, Bert hang a fign-poft up, to tell the Signiors, Here ye may have lewdnefs at livery. Enter Frederick. Ant. 'Twould be a great eafe to your age. Fred, How now? Why, what's the matter, landlady ? Land. What's the matter ! Ye ufe me decently among ye, gentlemen. Fred. Who has abus'd her? you, Sir? Land. Od's my witnefs, I will not be thus treated, that I will not. Ant. I gave her no ill language. Land. Thou lyeft lewdly. Thou took'ft me up at every word I fpoke, As I had been a maukin, a flirt gillian ; And thou think'ft, becaufe thou canft write and read, Our nofes muft be under thee. Fred. Dare you, Sirrah ? Ant. Let but the truth be known, Sir, I befeech you ; She raves of wenches, and I know not whaf, Sir. Land, THE CHANCES. 183 Land. Go too, thou know'ft too well, thou wicked varlet, Thou inftrument of evil. Ant. As I live, Sir, flie's ever thus till dinner. Fred. Get you in, I'll anfwer you anon, Sir. [Exit Anthony. Now your grief, what is't ? for I can guefs Land. You may, with fhame enough, If there were fhame amongft ye ; nothing thought on, But how ye may abufe my houfe : not fatisfied With bringing home your baftards to undo me, But you muft drill your whores here too ; my patience, Becaufe I bear, and bear, and carry all, And as they fay, am willing to groan under, Mufl be your make-fport now. Fred. No more of thefe words, No more murmurings, lady ; for you know That I know fomething. I did fufpecl: your anger, But turn it prefently and handfomely, And bear yourfelf difcreetly to this woman, For fuch a one there is indeed. Land. 'Tis well, fon. N4 Fred. i8 4 THE CHANCES. Fred' Leave oft" your devil's mattins, and your melancholies, Or we fhall leave our lodgings. Land. You have much need To ufe thefe vagrant ways, and to much profit : You had that might content (At home within yourfelves too) right good, gen- tlemen, Wholefome, and you faid handfome. But you gallants, Beaft that I was to believe you Fred. Leave your fufpicion ; For as I live there's no fuch thing. Land. Mine honour ; And 'twere not for mine honour. Fred. Come, your honour, Your houfe, and you too, if you dare believe me, Are well enough : fleek up yourfelf, leave crying ; For [ muft have ye entertain this lady With all civility, me well deferves it, Together with all fervice : I dare truft you," For I have found you faithful : when you know her, You will find your own fault ; no more words, but do it. Land. You know you may command me. Enter THE CHANCES. 185 Enter Don John. John. Worfhipful lady, How does thy velvet fcabbard ? by this hand, Thou lookeft mod amiably : now could I willingly (And 'twere not for abufing thy Geneva print there,) Venture my body with thee Land. You'll leave this roguery, When yon come to my years. "John. By this light, Thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer girl, Thou haft not half thy teeth Fred. Prithee, John, Let her alone, me has been vex'd already : She'll grow ftark mad, man. John. I wou'd fain fee her mad, An old mad woman Fred. Prithee be patient. "John. Is like a^ miller's mare, troubled wi'th ? tooth-ach ; She makes the rareft faces. Fred. Go, and do it, And do not mind this fellow. [Exit Landlady, and comes back again prefently. John. What, again ! Nay ? 1 86 THE CHANCES. Nay, then it is decreed : though hills were fet on hills, And feas met feas, to guard thee, I would through. Land. Od's my witnefs, if ye ruffle me, I'll fpoil your fweet face for you, that I will : go, go to the door, there's a gentleman there would fpeak with you. John. Upon my life Petruchio; good, dear land- lady, carry him into the dining-room, and I'll wait upon him prefently : Land, Well, Don John, the time will come that I fhall be even with you. [Exit. John. I muft be gone : yet if my project hold, You fhall not flay behind : I'll rather truft A cat with fweet milk, Frederick; by her face, Enter Conftantia. I feel her fears are working. Con. Is there no way, I do befeech you, think yet, to divert This certain danger ? Fred. 'Tis impoflible : Their honours are engag'd. Con. Then there mufl be murder, Which, gentlemen, I fhall no fooner hear of, Than THE CHANCES. 187 Than make one in't: you may, ifyoupleafe, Sir, Make all go lefs "John. Lady, were't mine own caufe, I could difpenfe ; but loaden with my friends truft, I muft go on, though general mafiacres, As much I fear Con. Do ye hear, Sir ? for heaven's fake, Let me requeft one favour of you. Fred. Yes, any thing. Con- This gentleman I find is too refolute, Too hot and fiery for the caufe : as ever You did a virtuous deed, for honour's fake, Go with him and allay him : your fair temper, A noble difpofition, like wim'd ftiowers, May quench thofe eating fires, that would fpoil all elfe. I fee in him deftruftion. Fred. I will do it, and 'tis a wife confideration, To me a bounteous favour : hark ye John, I will go with ye. John. No. Fred. Indeed I will, You go upon a hazard; no denial? For as I live I'll go. John, iSS THE CHANCES. John. Then make ye ready, . For I am ftrait on horfe-back. Fred. My fword on, an^ I am as ready as you : what my belt labour, With all the art I have can work upon 'em, Be fure of, and expeft a fair end : the old gentle* woman Shall wit upon ye ; me is difcreet and fecrer, You may truft her in all points. Con. Ye are noble j And fo 1 take my leave. John. I hope, lady, a happy ifiue for all this. Con. All heaven's care upon ye, and my prayers. John. So, Now my mind's at reft. Fred. Away, 'tis late, John. [Exeunt- SCENE II. Enter Antonio, Surgeon, and a Gentleman. Gent. What fymptoms do you find in him? Sur. None, Sir, dangerous, if he'd be rul'd : Gent. Why ! what does he do ? Sur. Nothing that he fhould. Firft, he will let no liquor down but wine, and then he has a fancy that THE CHANCES. 159. that he muft be dreft always to the tune of John Dory : Gent. How to the tune of John Dory ? Sur. Why, he will have fidlers, and make them play and fing it to him all the while. Gent. An odd fancy indeed. Ant. Give me fome, wine. Sur. I told you fo 'Tis death, Sir: Ant. 'Tis a horfe, Sir. Doft think I mall reco- ver with the help of barley-water only ? Gent. Fy, Antonio, you muft be govern'd. Ant. Why, Sir, he feeds me with nothing but rotten roots, and drownM chickens, ftew'd Peri- cranlunis, and Pia-maters ; and when I go to bed, (by heaven 'tis true, Sir) he rolls me up in lints with labels at 'em, that I am juft the man i' th* almanack ; my head and face is dries place. Sur, Wiil't pleafe you to let your friends fee you open'd ? Ant. Will't pleafe you, Sir, to give me a brim- mer ? I feel my body open enough for that. Give it me, or I'll die upon thy hand, and fpoil thy cuftom. Sur. How, a brimmer ? Ant. V/hy, look ye, Sir, thus I am us'd ftill ; I can S9 o THE CHANCES. I can get nothing that I want. In how long time canft thou cure me ? Sur. In forty days. Ant. I'll have a dog mail lick me whole in twenty. In how long canft thou kill me ? Sur. Prefently. Ant. Do't, that's the fhorter, and there's more delight in't. Gent- You muft have patience. Ant- Man, I muft have bufmefs; this foolim fel- low hidden himfelf; I have a dozen rafcals to hurt within thefe five days. Good man-mender, flop me up with parfly like ftuff'd beef, and let me walk abroad. Sur. Ye mail walk fhortly. Ant. I will walk prefently, Sir, and leave your falads there, your green falves and your oils ; I'll to my old diet again, ftrong food, and rich wine, and try what that will do. Sur. Well, go thy ways, thou art the maddeft old fellow I e'er yet met with [Exeunt. SCENE THE CHANCES. 191 SCENE III. Enter Conftantia and Landlady. Con. I have told you all I can, and more than yet Thofe gentlemen know of me ; but are they Such ftrange creatures, fay you ? Land. There's the younger, Don John, the errant'ft Jack in all this city : The other, time has blafted, yet he will ftoop, If not o'erflown, and freely on the quarry ; H'as been a dragon in his days. But Tarmont, Don Jenkin, is the devil himfelf, the dog-days, The moft incomprehenfive whoremafter, Twenty a night is nothing : the truth is, Whofe chaftity he chops upon, he cares not. He flies at all ; baftards upon my confcience, He has now in making multitudes : the laft night He brought home one j I pity her that bore it, But we are all weak veflels. . Some rich woman (For wife I dare not call her) was the mother, For it was hung with jewels ; the bearing cloth No lefs than crimfon velvet. Con. How i Land. 'Tis true, lady. Con, Was it a boy too ? v Land. i 9 2 THE CHANCES. Land. A brave boy ; deliberation And judgment fhew'd in's getting, as I'll fay for him, He's as well pac'd for that fpo. t Can. May 1 fee it ? For there is a neighbour of mine, a gentlewoman; Has had a late mifchance, which willingly I would know further of; now if you pleafe To be fo courteous to me* Land. Ye (hall fee it : But what do you think of thefe men, now you know 'em ? Be wife, You may repent too late elfe ; I but tell you For your own good, and as you will find it, lady; Con. I am advis'd. Land. No more words then ; do that, And inftantly, I told you of ; be ready. Don John, I'll fit you for your frumps; Con. But mall I fee this child ? Land. Within this half hour : Let's in, and there think better. [Exeunt; SCENE IV. Enter Petruchio, Don John and Frederick. . Sir, he is worth your knowledge, and a gentleman (If THE CHANCES. 19$ (If I that fo much love him may commend him) That's full of honour ; and one, if foul play- Should fall upon us, for which fear I brought him, Will not fly back for fillips* Petr. Ye much honour me, Arid once more 1 pronounce ye both mine. Fred. Stay, what troop Is that below i' th' valley there ? John. Hawking, I take it. Petr. They are fo ; 'tis the duke, 'tis even he, gentlemen : Sirrah, draw back the horfes till we call ye, I know him by his company. Fred. I think too He bends up this way. Petr. So he does. John. Stand you ftill Within that covert, till I call : he comes Forward ; here will I wait him : to your places. Petn I need no more inftrud you. "John. Fear me not. [Exeunt Petr. and Fred. Enter Duke and his faflion>. Duke. Feed the hawks up, We'll fly no more to day : O my bieft fortune ! Have I fo fairly met the man ? VOL, I. O John. 194 THE CHANCES. John. Ye have, Sir, And him you know by this. Duke. Sir, all the honour, And love John. I do befeeeh your grace flay there, and Difmift your train a little. Duke. Walk afide, And out of hearing, I command you ; Now, Sir, be plain. John. I will, and fhort ; Ye have wrong'd a gentleman, beyond all juftice, Beyond the mediation of all friends. Duke. The man, and manner of wrong ? John. Petruchio ; The wrong, you have dishonoured his fifter. Duke. Now ftay you, Sir, And hear me a little : this gentleman's Sifter that you nam'd, 'tis true, I have long lov'd j As true I have enjoy'd her : no lefs truth I have a child by her. But that flie, or he, Or any of that family are tainted, Suft'er difgrace or ruin, by my pleafnres, I wear a fword to fatisfy the world no, And himinthiscaufe when hepleafes: for know, Sir, She is my wife, contracted before heaven, (A witnefs THE CHANCES. *9S (A witnefs I owe .more tye to, than her brother) Nor will 1 fly from that name, which long fmce Had had the churches approbation, But for his jealous nature. John. Your pardon, Sir ; I am fully fatisfied. Duke. Dear, Sir, I knew I mould convert you ; had we But that rough man here now too John. And you mall, Sir, What, hoa, hoa, Duke. I hope you have laid no ambufh } Enter Petruchio; yohn. Only friends. Duke. My noble brother welcome : Come put your anger off, we'll have no fighting, Unlefs you will maintain I am unworthy To bear that name. Petr. Do you fpeak this heartily,? Duke. Upon my foul, and truly j the firft prieft Shall put you out of thefe doubts. Petr. Now I love you, And I befeech ye pardon my fufpicions ; You are now more than a brother, a brave friend too. John. The good man's overjoy'd. O 2 Enter i,6 T H E C H A N C E 3. Enter Frederick. Fred. How now, how goes it ? John. Why, the man has his mare again, and all's well. The duke profefles freely he's her hufband. Fred. 'Tis a good hearing. John. Yes, for a modeft gentleman : I muft pre- fent you ; May it pleafe your grace, To number this brave gentleman, my friend, And noble kinfman, amongft the reft of your fervants. Duke. O my brave friend ; you mower your bounties on me. Amongft my beft thoughts, Signior^ in which number You being worthily difpos'd already, May freely place your friend. Fred. Your grace does me a great deal of honour. Petr. Why this is wondrous happy : but now, brother, Now comes the bitter to our fweet : Conftantia. Duke. Why, what of her ? Petr. Nor what, nor where do I know ; Wing'd THE CHANCES. 197 Wing'd with her fears, laft night, beyond my knowledge, She quit my houfe, but whether Fred. Let not that Duke. NQ more, good Sir, I have heard too much. Petr. Nay, fink not, She cannot be fo loft. John. Nor fhall not ; gentlemen, Be free again, the lady's found ; that fmile, Sir, Shows you diflruft your fervant. Duke. I do befeech you. jfohn. You fhall believe me, by my foul fhe's fafc. Fred. You may fafely, John. And under noble ufage : this gentleman Met her in all her doubts laft night, and to his guard (Her fears being ftrong upon her) me gave her perfon, Who waited on her to our lodging, where all refpeft, Civil and honeft fervice now attend her. Petr. You may believe now. Duke, Yes I do, and ftrongly ; "Well, my good friends, or rather my good an.gels, Q 3 For i 9 8 THE CHANCES. For you have both preferv'd me; when thefe virtues Die in your friends remembrance John. Good your grace, Lofe no more time in compliments, 'tis toopreciousj I know it myfelf, there can be no hell To his that hangs upon his hopes. Petr. He has hit it. Fred. To horfe again then, for this night I'll crown With all the joys you wifh for. Petr. Happy gentlemen. [Exeunt. Enter Francifco, and a Man. Fran. This is the maddeft mifchief, never fool was ever fo fubb'd off as I am, made ridiculous, and to myfelf, to my own afs; truft a woman, I'll truft the devil firft, for he dares be better than his word fometimes. Pray tell me, in what obfervance have I e'er fail'd her? Man. Nay, you can tell that beft yourfelf. Fran. Let me confider. Enter Don Frederick and Don John. Fred. Let them talk, we'll go on before. Fran. Where didft thou meet Conftantia, and this woman ? Fred. THE CHANCES, 199 Fret). Conftantia ! What are thcfe fellows ? flay, fay all means. Man. Why, Sir, I met her in the great ftreet that comes from the market-place, jufl at the turning by a goldfmith's mop. Fred. Stand Hill, John, Fran. Well, Conftantia has fpun herfelf a fair thread now : What will her beft friend think of this ? Fred. John, I fmell fome juggling, John. John. Yes, Frederick, I fear it will be proved fo. Fran. But what mould the reafon be, doft think, of this fo fudden change in her ? Fred. 'Tis me. Man. Why, truly I fufped fhe has been entic'd to it by a llranger : yobn. Did you mark that, Frederick ? Fran. Stranger ! Who ? Man. A young gentleman that's newly come to town. Fred. Mark that too. John. Yes, Sir. Fran. Why do you think fo ? Man. I heard her grave conduftrefs twattlefome- tliing as they went along, that makes me guefs it. 04 John. 2o THE CHANCES. John. 'Tis (he, Frederick. Fred. But who that He is, John. Fran. I do not doubt to bolt 'em out, for they muft certainly be about the town. Ha ! no more wprds ? come, let's be gone. [Exeunt Fran, and Man. Fred. Well. John, Very well. Fred. Difcreetiy. John. Finely carried. Fred. You have no more of thefe tricks ? John. Ten to one, Sir, I (hall meet with 'em if you have. Fred. Is thi* fair ? John* Was it in you a friend's part to deal double ? I am no afs, Don Frederick. Fred. And, Don John, it ihall appear I am no fool: difgrace me to make yourfelf thus every woman's courtefy? 'tis boyifh, 'tis bafe. jfobn. 'Tis falfe j I privy to this dog- trick? clea? yourfelf, for I know well enough where the wind fits ; or as I have a life [Trampling within. Fred. No more, they are coming; mew no dif- contcnr, let's quietly away; if me be at home, our jealoufies THE CHANCES. 201 jealoufies are over ; if not, you and I muft have a farther parly, John. John. Yes, Don Frederick, you may be fure we {hall : but where are thefe fellows r pox on't, we have loft them too in our fpleen, like fools. Enter Duke and Petruchio. Duke. Come, gentlemen, let's go a little fafterj Suppofe you have all miftrefles, and mend Your pace accordingly. John. Sir, I fhould be as glad of a miftrefs as another man. Fred- Yes, o'my confcience would'ft thou, and of any other man's miftrefs too ; that I'll anfwer for. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Enter Antonio and his Man. Ant- With all my gold ? Man. The trunk broken open, and all gone. Ant. And the mother in the plot ? Man. And the mother and all. Ant. And the devil and all : the mighty pox go jvith 'em; belike they thought I was no more of this zes THE CHANCES. this world, and thofe trifles would but difcurb my confcience. Man. Sure they thought, Sir, you wou'd not live to difturb them. Ant, Well, my fweet miftrefs, I'll try how hand- fomely your ladyfhip can hang upon a pair of gal- lows; there's your mafler-piece. No imagination where they fliould be ? Man. None Sir ; yet we have fearch'd all places we fufpe&ed : I believe they have taken towards the port. Ant. Get me then a water-conjurer, one that can raife water-devils, I'll port 'em ; play at duck and drake with my money ! get me a conjurer, I fay, enquire out a man that lets out devils. Man. I don't know where. Ant. In every ftreet, Tom Fool, any blear'd ey'd people with red heads, and flat nofes, can perform it. Thou fhalt know 'em by their half gowns, and no breeches. Find me out a conjurer, I fay, and learn his price, how he will let his devils out by the day. I'll have 'em again if they be above ground. [Exeunt. SCENE THE CHANCES. aoj SCENE VI. Enter Duke, Petruchio, Frederick, and John. Petr. Your grace is welcome now to Bologna ; fo you are all, gentlemen. John. Don Frederick, will you ftep in, and give the lady notice who comes to vifit her ? Petr. Bid her make hafte ; we come to fee no curious wench, a night gown will ferve turn. Here's one that knows her nearer. Fred. I'll tell her what you fay, Sir. [Exit. Petr. Now will the fport be to obferve her al- terations, how betwixt fear and joy (he will behave herfelf. Duke. Dear brother, I muft entreat you Petr- I conceive your mind, Sir, I will not chide her. Enter Frederick and Peter, John. How now ? Fred. You may, Sir; not to abufe your patience longer, nor hold you off with tedious circum- ftances ; for ycu muft know Petr. What? Duke. Where is fhe ? Fred. Gone, Sir. Duke. 404 THE CHANCES, Duke. How ! Petr. What did you fay, Sir ? Fred. Gone, by heaven remov'd. The woman of the houfe too. Petr. What, that reverend old woman that tir'd me with compliments? Fred. The very fame. John. Well, Don Frederick. Fred, Don John, it is not well. But Petr. Gone ! Fred- This fellow can fatisfy I lye not. Pet. A little after my mafter was departed, Sir, with this gentleman, my fellow and myfelf being fent on bufmefs, as we mull think on purpofe. Petr. Hang thefe circumftances, they always ferve to uflier in ill ends. John. Now could I cat that rogue, I am fo angry. Gone ! Petr. Gone! Fred. Diredly gone, fled, fhifted; what would vou ha' me fay ? Duke. Well, gentlemen, wrong not my good opinion. Fred. For your dukedom^ Sir, I would not be a knave, Join. THE CHANCES. aoj "*%akn. He that is, a rot run in his blood. Petr. But hark you, gentlemen, are you furc you had her here? did you not dream this ? John. Have you your nofe, Sir ? Petr. Yes, Sir. John. Then we had her. Petr. Since you are fo fhort, believe your having her fhall fuffer moreconftruclion. John. Well, Sir, let it fuffer. Fred. How to convince you, Sir, I can't ima- gine ; but my life mall juftify my innocence, or fall with it. Duke. Thus then for we may be all abus'd. Petr, 'Tis poffible. Duke. Here let's part until to-morrow this time ; we to our way to clear this doubt, and you to yours : pawning our honours then to meet again ; when if me be not found Fred. We ftand engag'd to anfwer any worthy way we are call'd to. Duke. We afk no more. Petr. To morrow certain. John, if we out-live this night, Sir. [Exeunt Duke and Petruchio. Fred. 205 THE CHANCES. Fred. Come, Don John, we have fomewhatfhovr to do. yobn. I am fure I would have. Fred. If me be not found, we muft fight. John. I am glad on't, I have not fought a great while. Frtd. If we die - John. There's fo much money fav'd in lechery. [Exeunt '4 END or THE THIRD ACT. A C T IV. S C E N E I; Enter 2^/Conftantia and her Mother. Moth.JTLO'L'D, Cons, hold, for good nefs hold; I am in that defertion of fpirit for want of breath; that I am almoft reduc'd to the neceffity of not being able to defend myfelf againlt the inconve- .nience of a fall. 2 Con. Dear mother; let us go a little fafter to fecure ourfelves from Antonio ; for my part I am in that terrible fright, that I can neither think, fpeak, nor ftand Mill, till we are faie on fhip- board, and out of fight of the fhore. Moth. THE CHANCES. 107 Moth. Out of fight o'the fhore ! why, do you think I'll depatriate ? 2 Con. Depatriate! what's that? Moth. Why, you fool you, leave my country: what, will you never learn to fpeak out of the vul- gar road ? 2 Con. O lord ! this hard word will undo us. Moth. As I am a chriftian, if it were to fave my honour, (which is ten thoufand times dearer to me than my life) I would not be guilty of fo odious a thought. 2 Con. Pray mother, fince your honour is fo dear to you, confider that, if we are taken, both it and v/e are loft for ever. Moth. Ay, girl, but what will the world fay, if they mould hear fo odious a thing of us, as that we mould depatriate ? 2 Con. Ay, there's it ; the world ! why, mother, the world does not care a pin if both you and I were hang'd ; and that we mall be certainly, if Antonio takes us, for running away with his gold. Moth. Proteft I care not, I'll ne'er depart from the demarches of a perfon of quality ; and let come what will, I fhall rather choofe to fubmit myfelf to my fate, than ftrive to prevent it by any i deportment *oS .THE CHANCES. deportment that is not congruous, in every degree; to the fleps and meafures of a ftrift practitioner of honour. 2 Con. Would not this make one ftart mad ? her ftile is not more out of the way, than her manner of reafoning ; me firft fells me to an ugly old fellow, then me runs away with me and all his gold, and now, like a ftrift practitioner of honour, refolves to be taken, rather than depatriate, as me tails it. [Afide* Moth. As I am a chriflian, Cons, a tavern, and a very decent fign ! I'll in, I am refolv'd, though by it I mould run a rifco of never fo ftupenduous a nature. 2 Con. There's no flopping her ; what mail I do? Moth. I'll fend for my kinfwoman, and foine mufick, to revive me a little ; for really, Cons, I am reduc'd to that fad imbecillity by the injury I have done my poor feet, that I'm in a great incer- titude whether they will have livclinefs fufficient tofupportme up to the top of the flairs or no. [Exit. 2 Con. This finning without pleafure I cannot endure; to have always a remorfe, and ne'er do any thing that fhould caufe it, is intolerable. If I lov'd money too, which, I think, I don't, my mother THE CHANCES. 209 mother fhe has all that : I have nothing fo com- fort myfelf with but Antonio's ftiff beard ; and that alone, for a woman of my years, is but a forry kind of entertainment. I wonder why thefe old fumbling fellows fhould trouble themfelves fo much, only to trouble us more. They can do nothing, but put us in mind of our graves. Well, I'll no more on't ; for to be frighted with death and damnation, both at once, is a little too hard. I do here vow I'll live for ever chafte, or find out fome handfome young fellow I can love; I think that's the better; [Mother looks out at the "Window* Moth. Come up, Cons, the fiddles are here. ^ Con. I come [Mother goes from the window. I muft be gone, tho' whither I cannot tell; thefe fiddlers, and her difcreet companions will quickly make an end of all me has ftolen, and then for 500 new pieces fell me to another old fellow. She has taken care not to leave me a farthing; yet I am fo,' better than under her condudt : 'twill be at worft but begging for my life. Andjlarvmg were to me an eajier fate^ Than to be fore' 'd to live with one I hate. [Goes up to her mother. VOL. I. P SCENE H6 THE CHANCED SCENE II. Enter Don John. John. It Will not out of my head, but that Don Frederick has fent away this wench, for all he car- ries it fo gravely ; yet methinks he ftiould be honefter than fo : but thefe grave men are never touch'd upon fuch occafions. Mark it when you will, and you'll find a grave man, efpecially if he pretend to be a precife man, will do you forty things without remorfe, that would ftartle one of us mad fellows to think of: becaufe they are fa- miliar with heaven in their prayers, they think they may be bold with it in any thing: now we, that are not fo well acquainted, bear greater reve- rence. [Mufick plays above* What's here, muftck and women? would I had one of em. [One of 'em looks out of the window* That's a whore ; I know her by her fmile. O'my confcience, take a woman mafked and hooded j nay, cover'd all o'er, fo that you cannot fee one bit of her, and at twelve fcore yards diftance, if (he be a whore, as ten to one fhe is, I fhall know it cer- tainly : I have an inftinft within me never fails. [Another looks out* Ah rogue ! flie's right too, I'm fure on't. Moth. THE CHANGES. zn Moth, above. Come, come, let's dance in t'other room, 'tis a great deal better. John* Say you fo ? what now if I mould go up and dance too ? It is a tavern, pox o' this bufi- nefs ; I'll in; I ani refolved, and try my own for- tune; 'tis hard luck if I don't get one of 'em. As he goes to the door^ zd Conftantia enters. See here's one bolted already: fair lady, whither fo faft ? 2 Con. I don't know, Sir. John. May I have the honour to wait upon you ? 2 Con. Yes, if you pleafe, Sir. John. Whither? 2 Con. I tell you I don't know. John. She's very quick: would I might be fo happy as to know you, lady. 2 Con. I dare not let you fee my face; Sir. John. Why? 2 Con. For fear you mould not like it, and then leave me; for to tell you true, I have at this pre- fent very great need of you. John. If thou haft half fo much need of me, as 1 have of thee, lady, I'll be content to be hang'd tho'. 2 Can. It's a proper handfome fellow this : if P 2 he'd ai THE CHANCES. he'd but love me now, I would never feek out far- ther. Sir, I am young, and unexperienc'd in the world. yobn. Nay, if thou art young, it's no great mat- ter what thy face is. 2 Con. Perhaps this freedom in me may feem ftrange ; but, Sir, in fhort, I'm forc'd to fly from one I hate: if I mould meet him, will you here promife he mall not take me from you ? John. Yes, that I will, before I fee your face, your ihape has charm'd me enough for that al- ready; if any one takes you from me, lady, I'll give him leave to take from rue too (I was z- going to name 'em) certain things of mine, that I would not lofe, now I have you in my arms, for all the gems in Chriftendom. 2 Con. For heaven's fake then conduct me to feme place, where I may be fecured a while from the fight of any one whatfoever. yobn. By all the hopes I have to find thy face as lovely as thy fiiape, I will. 2 Con. Well, Sir, I believe you ; for you have an honeft look. Jabn. 'Slid I am afraid, Don Frederick has been given THE CHANCES. 213 giving her a chara&er of me too. Come, pray unmaflc. 2 Con. Then turn away your face ; for I'm re- folv'd you mall not fee a bit of mine, till I have fet it in order, and then John. What? 2 Con. I'll ftrike you dead. John. A mettled whore, I warrant her : come, if (he be now young, and have but a nofe on her face, (he'll be as good as her word. I'm e'en panting for breath already. 2 Con. Now ftand your ground if you dare. John. By this light a rare creature ! ten thou- fand times handfomer than her we feek for ! this can be fure no common one : pray heaven (he be not a whore. 2 Con. Well, Sir, what fay you now ? John. Nothing, I'm fo amaz'd, I am not able to fpeak. I'd beft fall too prefently, though it be in the ftreet, for fear of lofmg time : pr'ythee, my dear fweet creature, go with me into that corner, that thoa and I may talk a little in private: 2 Con. No, Sir, no private dealing, I befeech you. John. 'Sheart, what mail I do ? I'm out of my P 3 wjji. 2i 4 THE CHANCES. wits for her. Hark you, my dear foul, canft thou love me? 2 Can. If I could, what then ? John. Why, you know what then, and then fhould I be the happieft man alive. z Con* Ay, fo you all fay till you have your defires, and then you leave us. 'John. But, my dear heart, I am not made like other men; I never can love heartily till I have - 2 Con. Got their maidenheads; but fuppofe now I mould be no maid. "John. Pr'ythee fuppofe me. nothing, but let me try. 2 Con. Nay, good Sir, hold. John. No maid ! why, fo much the better, thou art then the more experienc'd ; for my part I hate a bungler at any thing. 2 Cm. O dear ! I like this fellow ftrangely : hark you, Sir, I am not worth a groat ; but though you mould not be fo neither, if you'll but love me, I'll follow you all the world over ; I'll work for you, beg for you, do any thing for you, fo you'll promife to do nothing with any body elfe. John. O heaven's ! I'm in another world, this wench fure was made o'purpofe for me, me is fo THE CHANCES. aij juft of my humour. My dear, 'tis impoflible for me to fay how much I will do for thee, or with thee, thou fweet bewitching woman ; but let's make hafte home, or I mail never be able to hold out till I come thither. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Frederick and Francifco, Fred. And art thou fure it was Conftantia, fay'ft thou, that he was leading ? Fran. Am I fure I live, Sir ? Why, I dwelt in the houfe with her ; how can I chufe but know her? Fred. But did'ft thou fee her face ? Fran. Lord, Sir, I faw her face as plainly as I fee yours juft now, not two ftreets off. Fred. Yes, 'tis e'en fo ; I fufpeaed it at firft, but then he forfwore it with that confidence Well, Don John, if thefe be your praftices, you (hall have no more a friend of me, Sir, I aflure you. Perhaps, tho', he met her by chance, and intends to carry her to her brother, and the duke, Enter Don John, andfecond Conflantia. A little time will mew. Gods fo, here he is ; P 4 I'll zi6 THE CHANCES. I'll ftep behind this mop, and obferve what he fays. John. Here, now go in, and make me for ever happy. Fred, Dear Don John. John. A pox o' your kindnefs, how the devil comes he here juft at this time ? now will he afk me forty foolim queftions, and I have fuch a mind to this wench, that I cannot think of one excufe, for my life. Fred, Your fervant, Sir ; pray who's that you lock'd in juft now at the door ? John. Why, a friend of mine that's gone up to read a book. Fred. A book! that's a queint one, i'faith; pr'ythee, Dpn John, what library haft thou been buying this afternoon? for i'th' morning to my knowledge thou had'ft never a book there, except it were an almanack, and that was none of thy own neither. v John. No, no, it's a book of his own he brought along with him. A fcholar that is given to read- ing. Fred. And do fcholars, Don John, wear petti- coats now a-days? John. THE CHANCES. 217 John. Plague on him, he has feen her. Well, Don Frederick, thou know'ft I am not good at lying ; 'tis a woman, I confefs it, make your beft on't, what then ? Fred. Why then, Don John, I defire you'll be pleas'd to let me fee her. John. Why, faith, Frederick, I mould not be againft the thing, but you know a man muft keep his word, and ftie has a mind to be private. Fred. But, John, you may remember when I met a lady fo before, this very felf-fame lady too, that I got leave for you to fee her John. John. Why, do you think then that this here is Conftantia? Fred. 1 cannot properly fay I think it, John, be- caufe I know it ; this fellow here law her as you led her i'th' ftreets. John. Well, and what then ? who does he fay it is? Fred. Alk him, Sir, and he'll tell you. John- Sweet-heart, doft thou know this lady? Fran. I think I fhould, Sir, I ha' liv'd long enough in the houfe with her to know her fure. John. And how do they call her pr'ythee ? Fran. Conftantia ! John. ai THE CHANCES; John. How ! Conftantia ! Fran. Yes, Sir, the woman's name is Conftantiaj that's fiat. John. Is it fo, Sir? and fo is this too. [Strikes him, Fran. Oh, oh. [Runs out. John. Now, Sirrah, you may fafely fay you have not born falfe witnefs for nothing. Fred. Fy, Don John, why do you beat the poor fellow for doing his duty, and telling truth ? Frea. Telling truth ! thou talk'ft as if thou hadft been hir'd to bear falfe witnefs too : you are a very fine gentleman. Fred. What a ftrange confidence he has ! but is there no fhame in thee ? nor any confideration of what is juft, or honeft, to keep a woman thus againft her will, that thou know'ft is in love with, another man too; do'ft think a judgment will not follow this? John. Good dear Frederick, do thou keep thy fentences and thy morals for forhe better oppor- tunity, this here is not a fit fubjedl for 'em: 1 tell thee fhe is no more Conftantia than thou art. Fred. Why won't you let me fee her then ? John. Becaufe I can't; befides, me is not for thy turn. Fred. THE CHANCES. *i$ Fred. How fo ? John. Why, thy genius lies another way ; thou art for flames, and darts, and thofe fine things ; now I am for the old plain down-right way; I am not fo curious, Frederick, as thou art. Fred. Very well, Sir ; but is this worthy in you, {o endeavour to debauch "John. But is there no mamer but is this v/orthy ? what a many buts are here! if Lfhould tell thee now folemnly thou haft but one eye, and give thee reafons for it, would'ft thou believe me ? Fred.. I think hardly, Sir, againft my own know- ledge. yobn. Then why doft thou, with that grave face, go about to perfuade me againft mine ? you fhould do as you would be done by, Frederick. Fred. And fo I will, Sir, in this very particular, fince there's no other remedy ; I fhall do that foe the Duke and Petruchio, which I mould expeft from them upon the like occafion : In fhort, to let you fee I am as fenfible of my honour, as you can; be carelefs of yours ; I muft tell you, Sir, that I'm refolv'd to wait upon this lady to them. John. Are you fo, Sir? why, I muft then, fweet Sir, tell you again, I am refolved you Ihan't. Ne'er ftarc, *ao. THE CHANCES. flare, nor wonder, I have promis'd to preferve her from the fight of any one whatfoever, and with the hazard of my life will make it geod ; but that you may not think I mean an injury to Petruchio, or the Duke, know, Don Frederick, that though I love a wench perhaps a little better, I hate to do a thing that's bafe, as much as you do. Once more upon my honour, this is not Conflantia; let that fatisfy you. Fred. All that will not do [Goes to the door. John. No? Why then this ihall. (draws.) Come not one ftep nearer, for if thou do'ft, by heaven it is thy laft. Fred-. This is an infolence beyond the temper of a man to fuffer thus I throw off thy friend- fiiip, and fince thy folly has provok'd my patience beyond its natural bounds, know it is not in thy power now to fave thyfelf. John. That's to be try'd, Sir, tho', by your favour. (Looks up to the window.) Miftrefs what you call 'em pr'ythea look now a little, and fee how I'll fight for thee. Fred. Come, Sir, are you ready ? "John. O Lord, Sir, your fervant. [Fight. SCENE. THE CHANCES, 2*1 SCENE IV. Enter Duke and Petruchio. Petr. What's here, fighting ? let's part 'em; How ? Don Frederick againft Don John ! how came you to fall out, gentlemen ? What's the caufe ? Fred. Why, Sir, it is your quarrel, and not mine, that drew this on me : I faw him lock Con- ftantia up into that houfe, and I defired to wait upon her to you ; that's the caufe. Duke. O, it may be he defign'd to lay the obli- gation upon us himfelf ; Sir, we are beholden to you for this favour, beyond all pofiibility of - John. Pray, Sir, do not throw away your thanks, before you know whether I have deferv'd 'em or not. O ! is that your defign i Sir, you muft not go in there. [Petruchio going to the door. Petr, How, Sir, not go in ? John. No, Sir, mofl certainly not go in. Petr. She's my fifter, and I will fpeak with her. John. If me were your mother, Sir, you mould not, though it were but to afk her blefling. Petr. Since you are fo pofitive, I'll try. [Fight. John. You mail find me a man of my word, Sir. 2 Duke* ili -T HE CHANCES. Duke- Nay, pray gentlemen, hold, let me com- pofe this matter ; why do you make a fcruple of letting us fee Conftantia? John. Why, Sir, 'twould turn a man's head round to hear thefe fellows talk fo ; there is riot one word true of all that he has faid. Duke. Then you do not know where Con- ftantia is ? John- Not I, by heavens; Fred- O monftrous impudence ! upon my lifei Sir, I faw him fhut her up into that houfe, and know his temper fo, that if I had not ftopp'd him, I dare 1 fwear by this time he would have ravifh'd her. John. Now that is two lies : for firft he did not fee her ; and next the lady I led in is not to be raviih'd, me is fo willing. Duke. But look you, Sir, this doubt may eafily be clear'd : let either Petruchio or I but fee hen and if fhe be not Conftantia, we engage our ho- nours (though we fnould know her) never to dif- cover who fhe is. John. Ay, but there's the point now, that I can ne'er confent to ? Duke. Why? John. Becaufe I gave her my word to the contrary. Dnkti THE CHANCES. a 2 j Jbuke. And did you never break your word with a woman ? John. Never before I lay with her ; and that's the cafe now. Petr. Pilh, I won't be kept off thus any longer : Sir, either let me enter, or I'll force my way. Fred. No, pray Sir, let that be my office, I will be reveng'd on him for having betrayM his friendfhip to me. [Petr. and Fred; offer to fight with John. Duke. Nay, you mall not offer him foul play neither. Hold, brother, pray a word; and with you too, Sir. John. Pox on't, would they would make an end of this bufinefs, that I might be with her againj Hark you, gentlemen/ I'll make you a fair pro- pofition; leave off this ceremony among your- felves, and thofe difmal threats againft me ; fillip up, crofs or pile who fhall begin firft, and I'll do the beft I can to entertain you all one after another. Enter Antonio; dnt. Now do my fingers itch to be about Tome body's ears for the lofs of my gold. Ha ! what's here to do, fword's drawn ? I mufb make one, though it coft me the finging of ten John Dory's i more 4*4 THE CHANCES. more. Courage, brave boy, I'll (land by thee as long as this tool here lafts j and it was once a good one. Pctr. Who's this ? Antonio ! O, Sir, you are welcome, you fhall be e'en judge between us. Ant. No, no, no, not I, Sir, thank ye ; I'll make work for others to judge of, I'm refolv'd to fight. Petr. But we won't fight with you. Ant. Then put up your fwords, or by this hand I'll lay about me. John. Well faid, old Bilbo, i'faith. [They put up their fwords. Petr. Pray hear us, tho'; this gentleman faw him lock up my fifter into that houfe, and he re- fufes to let us fee her. Ant. How, friend, is this true ? John. Nay, good Sir, let not our friendship be broken before it is well made. Look ye, gentle- men, to fhew you that you are all miftaken, and that my formal friend there is an afs - Fred. I thank you, Sir. John. I'll give my confent that this gentleman here fliall fee her, if his information can fatisfy vou - ,. **,* Duke. THE CHANCES. * 5 Duke. Yes, yes ; he knows her very well. John. Then, Sir, go in here if you pleafe ; I dare truft him with her, for he is too old to do her either good or harm, Fred. I wonder how my Gentleman will get off from all this. John. I lhall be even with you, Sir, another time, for all your grinning. Enter a Servant. How now ? where is he ? Ser. He's run out o'the back door, Sir. John. How fo ? Ser. Why, Sir, he's run after the gentlewoman you brought in* John. 'Sdeath, how durft you let her out ? Ser. Why, Sir, I knew nothing. Jvhn. No, thou ignorant rafcal, and therefore I'll beat fomething into thee [Beats him. Fred. What, you won't kill him ? John. Nay, come not near me, for if thou doft, by heavens I'll give thee as much ; and would do fo however, but that I won't lofe time from looking after my dear fweet a pox confound you all. [Goes in and fonts the door after him. VOL. I. Q Dukt- aa6 THE CHANCES; Duke. What ? he has fhut the door. Fred. It's no matter, I'll lead you to a private back way, by that corner, where we fhall meet him. [Exeunt* END OF THE F O V R.T H ACT. ACTV. SCENE I. Enter Antonio's Servant, Conftables and Officers* Ser. jfJL Young woman, fay'ft thou, and her mother ? Man. Yes, juft now come to the houfe. Not an hour ago. Ser. It muft be they ; here, friend, here's mo- ney for you ; be fure you take 'em, and I'll re- ward you better when you have done. Con. But neighbour, ho, hupmall I now hup -'-know thefe parties ? for I would hup execute my office hup like hup a fober perfon. Man. That's hard : but you may eafily know the mother, for me is hupdrunk. Con. Nay hup if fhe be drunk, lethup me alone THE CHANCES. 2a 7l felone to maul her ; for hup I abhor a drunkard, let it be man woman, orhup child. Man. Ay, neighbour, one may fee you hate drinking indeed. Con^ Why, neighbour hup did you eyer fee me drunk ? anfwer me that queflion ; did you ever hup fee me drunk ? Man. No, never, never; come away, here's the houfe. [Exeunt* SCENE II. Enter firft Conftantia. i Con. Oh, whither mail I run to hide myfelf I The conftable has feiz'd the landlady, and I'm afraid the poor child too. How to return to Don Frederick's houfe, I know not; and if I knew, I durft not, after thofe things the landlady has told me of him. If I get not from this drunken rabble, I expofe my honour ; and if I fall into my bro- ther's hands, I lofe my life : ye powers above, look down and help me ; I am faulty, I confefs, but greater faults have often met with lighter pu- ni foments. Then let not heavier yet on me be laid, Be what I will, I'm ftill what you have made. Q_2 Enter i8 T H CHANCES. Enter Don John. John* I'm almoft dead with running, and wilf be fo quite, but I will overtake her. i Con. Hold, Don John, hold. John. Who's that ? Ha ! is it you, my dear. i Con. For heaven's fake; Sir, carry me front hence, or I'm utterly undone. John. Phoo, pox, this is th' other ; now could I almoft beat her, for but making me the propo- fition : Madam, there are fome a-coming that will do it a great deal better ; but I am in fuch hafte that I vow to gad, madam --- i Con. Nay, pray Sir, ftay, Sir, you are con- cerned in this as well as I ; for your woman is taken. John. Ha ! my woman ? [Goes back to her. I vow to gad, madam, I do fo highly honour your ladyfhip, that I would venture my life a thoufand times to do you fervice. But pray where is me ? i Con. Why, Sir, me is taken by the conftable^ John. Conftable ! which way went he ? i Con. I cannot tell, for I run out into the ftreets juft as he had feized upon your landlady. John. Plague o' my landlady, I meant t'other woman. i Con, THE CHANCES. 149 i Con. Other woman, Sir ! I have feen no other woman ever fince I left your houfe. John. 'Sheart, what have I been doing here then all this while ? Madam, your moft humble i Con. Good Sir, be not fo cruel, as to leave me in this diftrefs. John. No, no, no ; I'm only going a little way, and will be back again prefently. i Con. But, pray Sir, hear me ; I'm in that danger John. No, no, no ; I vow to gad, madam, no danger in the world : Let me alone, I warrant you. [Exit. i Con. He's gone, and I a loft, wretched, mife- rable creature for ever. Enter Antonio, Ant. O, there me is. i Con. Who's this, Antonio ? the fierceft ene- my I have. [Runs out. Ant. Are you fo nimble-footed, gentlewoman ? If I don't overtake you for all this, it mall go hard She'll break my wind with a pox to her. $ plague confound all whores. [Exit. SCENE * 3 o THE CHANCES. SCENE III. Enter Mother to the fecond Conftantia, and Kink woman. Kinf. But, madam, be not fo angry, perhaps fhe'll come again. 'Mo- O kinfwoman, never fpeak of her more ; for ihe's an odious creature, to leave me thus i' th' lurch. I that have given her all her breeding, and inftrudled her with my own principles of edu- cation. Kinf. I proteft, madam, I think Ihe's a perfon that knows as much of all that as Mo- Knows, kinfwoman ! There's ne'er a wo- man in Italy, of thrice her years, knows fo much the procedures of a true gallantry, and the infal- lible principles of an honourable friendmip as me does. Kinf. And therefore, madam, you ought to love her. Mo. No, fie upon her ; nothing at all, as I am a chriftian : when once a perfon fails in funda- mentals, Ihe's at a period with me. Befides, with all her wit, Conftantia is but a fool, and calls all the meniarderies of a bonne mien affe&ation. THE CHANCES. -53:1 K'tnf. Indeed I muft confefs, fhe's given a little too much to the carelefs way. Mo. Ay, there you have hit it, kinfwoman ; the carelefs way has quite undone her. Will you believe me, kinfwoman ? as I am a chriftian, I never could make her do this : nor carry her body thus, but juft when my eye was upon her: as foon as ever my back was turned, whip, her el- bows were quite out again : Would not you ftrange jiow at this ? Klnf. Blefs me, fweet goodnefs ! But pray, ma- dam, how came Conftantia to fall out with your ladyfhip ? Did Ihe take any thing ill of you ? Mo. As I'm a chriftian I can't refolve you, unlefs it were that I led the dance firft ; but for that me muft excufe me ; I know me dances well, but there are others who perhaps underftand the right /wim of it as well as Ihe. Enter Don Frederick. And though I love Conftantia - Fred. How's this ? Conftantia ? Mo. I know no reafon why I mould be debarr'd the privilege of mewing ray own parts too fome- times. Q.4 i 3 a THE CHANCES. Fred. If I am not miftaken that other woman is fhe Don John and 1 were dire&ed to, when we came firft to town, to bring us acquainted with Conftantia : I'll try to get fome intelligence from her. Pray, lady, have I never feen you before ? Kinf. Yes, Sir, I think you have, with another ftranger, a friend of yours, one day as I was coming out of the church. Fred. I'm right then : And pray who were you talking of ? Mo- Why, Sir, of an inconfiderate, inconfider.- able perfon, that has at once both forfeited the honour of my concern, and the concern of her own honour, Fred. Very fine indeed: And is all this intended for the beautiful Conftantia ? Mo. O fie upon her, Sir, an odious creature, as I'm a chriftian, no beauty at all. Fred. Why, does not your ladyfhip think her handfome ? Mo. Serioufly, Sir, I don't think fhe's ugly, but as lam a chriftian, my pofition is, that no true beauty can be lodg'd in that creature, who is not in fome meafure buoy'd up with a juft fenfe of what THE CHANCES, 233 yyhat is incumbent to the devoir of a perfon of quality. Fred. That petition, madam, is a little fevere, but however fhe has been incumbent formerly, as your ladyfhip is pleas'd to fay j now that flic's married, and her hufband own's the child, me js fufficiently juftified for all that fhe has done. Mo. Sir, I muft bluihingly beg leave to fay, you are there in an error. I know there has been pafiages of love between 'em, but with a tempe- rament fo innocent, and fo refin'd, as it did im- pofe a negative upon the very pofiibility of her being with child. Fred. Sure fhe is not well acquainted with her. Pray, madam, how long have you known Con- ftantia ? Mo. Long enough, I think, Sir; for I had the good fortune, or rather the ill one^ to help her firil to the light of the world. Fred. Now cannot I difcover, by the finenefs pf this dialed, whether fhe be the mother or the midwife : I had belt afk t'other woman. Mo. No, Sir, I allure you, my daughter Con- flan{ ia has never had a child : A child ! ha, ha, ha'.O goodnefs fave us, a child ! Fred. <*34 THE CHANCES. Fred. O, then fhe is the mother, and, it feems, is not informed of the matter. Well, madam, I ftiall not difpute this with you any farther ; but give me leave to wait upon your daughter ; for her friend, I aflure you, is in great impatience to fee her. Mo. Friend, Sir ? I know none fhe has ? I'm lure flie loaths the very fight of him. Fred. Of whom? Mo. Why, of Antonio, Sir, he that you were pleas'd to fay had got my daughter with child, Sir, ha ha ha - Fred. Still worfe and worfe ; 'Slife cannot fhe be content with not letting me underftand her, but muft alfo 1 refolve obftinately notto underftand me, becaufe I fpeak plain? Why, madam, I cannot exprefs myfelf your way, therefore be not of- fended at me for it j I tell you I do not know An- tonio, nor ever named him to you : I to'd you that the Duke has own'd Conftantia for his wife,, that her brother and he are friends, and are bofh now in fearch after her. Mo- Then, as I'm a chriftian, I fufpeft we have both been equally involved in the misfortune cf a miftake. Sir, I am in the derniere confufion to THE CHANCE 3. $ to avow, that, though my daughter Conftantia has been liable to feveral addreffes, yet me never has had the honour to be produc'd to his grace. Fred. So then you put her to bed to Mo. Antonio, Sir, one whom my ebb of for- tune forc'd me to enter into a negotiation with, in reference to my daughter's perfon ; but, as I am a chriftian, with that candor in the aftion, as I was in ho kind deny'd to be a witnefs of the thing. Fred. So, now the thing is out : this is a damn'd bawd, and I as damn'd a rogue for what I did to Don John : for o'my confcience, this is that Con- ftantia the fellow told me of. I'll make him amends whate'er it coft me. Lady, you muft give me leave not to part with you, till you meet with your daughter, for fome reafons I mall tell you hereafter. Mo. Sir, I am fo highly your obligee for the manner of your enquiries, and you have grounded your^ determinations upon fo juil a ban's, that I Jhall not be afham'd to own myfelf a votary to all your commands. [Exeunt. SCENE |f THE CHANCES. SCENE ]V. Enter fecund Conftantia. z Con* So I'm once more freed from Antonio j but whither to go now, that's the queftion ; no- thing troubles me, but that he was fent up by that young fellow, for I lik'd him with my foul, would he had lik'd me fo too. Enter Don John and a Shop-keeper. yohn. Which way went me ? Shop. Who ? John. The woman. Shop. What woman ? yohn. Why, a young woman, a handfome wo- man, the handfomcft woman thou ever faw'ft in thy life : Speak quickly, Sirrah, or thou malt fpeak no more. 'Shop. Why, yonder's a woman j what a devil ails this fellow? [Exit. John. O my dear foul, take pity o' me, and give me comfort, for I'm e'en dead for want of thee. 2 Con. O, you're a fine gentleman indeed, to Ihut me up in your houfe, and fend another man to me. John. THE CHANCES. 37 John. Pray hear me. 2 Con. No, I will never hear you more after fuch an injury; what would you have done, if I had been kind to you, that could ufe me thus before ? John. By my troth that's ftirewdly urg'd. 2 Con. Betides, you bafely broke your word. John. But will you hear nothing ? nor did you hear nothing? I had three men upon me at once, and had I not confented to let that old fellow up, who came to my refcue, they had all broken in whether I would or no. 2 Con. Faith, it may be it was fo, for I remem- ber I heard a noife; but, fuppofe it was not fo, what then ? Why, then I'll love him however. Hark you, Sir, I ought now to ufe you very fcur- vily, but I can't find in my heart to do it. %hn. Then God's blelfing on thy heart for it. 2 Con. But a John. What? 2 Con. I would fain John. Ay, fo would I ; come let's go. 2 Con. 1 would fain know whether you can be kind to me. John. That thou (halt prefently : come away. 2 Cm. *3& THE CHANCES. 2 Con. And will you always ? "John. Always ? I can't fay fo; but I will as often as I can. 2 Con. Phoo, I mean love me; John. Well, I mean that too. 2 Con. Swear then. John. That I will upon my knees : What mail I fay ? 2 Con. Nay, ufe what words you pleafe, fo they be but hearty, and not thofe that are fpoken by the prieft, for that charm feldom proves fortu- nate. John. I fwear, then, by thy fair felf > that look'ft fo like a deity, and art the only thing I now can think of, that I'll adore thee to my dying day. 2 Con. And here I'll vow, the minute thou dof? leave me", I'll leave the world, that's kill myfelf. John, O my dear heavenly creature ! [KiJJTes her. That kifs now has almoft put me into a fwoon : for heaven's fake let's quickly out of the ftreets, for fear of another fcuffle. I durft encounter a whole army for thy fake ; but yet, methinks, I had better try my courage another way ; what think'ft thou? t 2 Co#t THE CHANCES. i3g 2 Con. Well, well, why don't you then ? [As they are going out, enter firjl Con- ftantia, andjujl then Antonio feizes yohn. Who's this, my old new friend has got there ? Ant. O, have I caught you gentlewoman at lafl? Come, give me my gold. 1 Con. I hope he takes me for another, I won't anfwer, for I had rather he fhould take me for any one than who I am. "John. Pray, Sir, who is that you have there by the hand ? Ant. A perfon of honour, Sir, that has broke open my trunks, and run away with all my gold ; yet I'll hold ten pound I'll have it whip'd out of her again. 2 Con. Done, I'll hold you ten pounds of that now. Ant. Ha ! by my troth you have reafon ; and, lady, I aflc your pardon ; but I'll have it whipp'd out of you then, goflip. John. Hold, Sir, you muft not meddle with my goods. Ant. Your goods ! how came fhe to be yours ? I'm 140 THE CHANCES. I'm fure I bought her of her mother for five htfn- dred good pieces of gold, and flie was a-bed with me all night too; deny that if you dare. 2 Con. Well, and what did you do when I was 2-bed with you all night? confefs that if you dare. Ant* Umph, fay yoll fb ? I Con. I'll try if this lady will help me, for I know not whether elfe to go. Ant. I mall be afliam'd I fee utterly, except I make her hold her tongue. Pray, Sir, by your leave, I hope you will allow me the fpeech of one word with your goods here, as you call her; 'tis but a fmall requeft. John. Ay, Sir, with all my heart. How, Con- ftantia ! Madam, now you have feen that lady, I hope you will pardon the hafte you met me in a little while ago ; if I committed a fault, you mult thank her for it. l Con. Sir, if you will, for her fake, be per- fuaded to proteft me from the violence of my bro- ther, I mail have reafon to thank you both. John. Nay, madam, now that I am in my wits again, and my heart's at eafe, it mail go very hard but I will fee yours fo too j I was before di- ftrafted, THE CHANCES. 24 i (traded, and it is not ftrange the love of her fhould hinder me from remembting what was due to you, fmce it made me forget myfelf. 1 Con. Sir, I do know too well the power of love, by my own experience, not to pardon all the effe&s of it in another. Ant. Well, then, I promife you, if you will but help me to my gold again, (I mean that which you and your mother flole out of my trunk) that I'll never trouble you more. 2 Con. A match ; and 'tis the beft that you and I could ever make. John. Pray, madam, fear nothing ; by my love I'll ftand by you, and fee that your brother mall do you no harm. 2 Con. Hark you, Sir, a word ; how dare you talk of love, or (landing by any lady but me, Sir. Jibn. By my troth that was a fault ; but I did not mean in your wayj I meant it only civilly. 2 Con. Ay, but if you are fo very civil a gentle- man, we (hall not be long friends : I fcOrn to fhare your love with any one whatfoever; and for my part, I'm refolv'd either to have all or nothing. John. Well, my dear little rogue, thou malt VOL. I. R have ft4 t T H E C H A N C E S. have it all prefently, as foon as we can but get rid Of this company. 2 Con. Phoo, you are always abufing me. Enter Frederick and Mother. Fred. Come now, madam, let not us fpeak one Word more, but go quietly about our bufinefs; not but that I think it the greateft pleafure in the world to hear you talk, but Mo. Do you indeed, Sir ? I fwear then, good wits jump, Sir ; for I have thought fo myfelf a very great while. Fred. You've all the reafon imaginable. OJ Don John, I afk thy pardon : but I hope I fhall make thee amends, for I have found out the mo* ther, and (he has promifed me to help thee to thy miftrefs again. John. Sir, you may fave your labour, the bufi- nefs is done, and I am fully fatisfied. Fred. And doft thou know who me is? John. No faith, I never afk'd her name. Fred. Why then, I'll make thee yet more fa- tisfy'd : this lady here is that very Conftantia John. Ha ! thou haft not a-mind to be knock'd o'er the pate too, haft thou ? Fred. THE CHANCES. 143 Fred. No, Sir, nor dare you do it neither ; but for certain this is that very felf-fame Conftantia that thou and I fo long look'd after. John. I thought me was fomething more than ordinary ; but lhall I tell thee now a ftranger thing thaji all this ? Fred. What's that ? John. Why, I will never more touch any other woman for her fake. Fred. Well, I fubmit that indeed is ftranger. 2 Con. Come, mother, deliver your purfe ; I have deliver'd myfelf up to this young fellow, and the bargain's made with that old fellow, fo he may have his gold again, that all mall be well. Mo. As I'm a chriftian, Sir, I took it away only to have the honour of reftoring it again ; for, my hard fate having not beftow'd upon me a fund which might capacitate me to make you prefents of my own, I had no way left for the exercife of my generofity, but by putting myfelf into a condition of giving back what was yours. Ant. A very generous defign indeed. So, now I'll e'en turn a fober perfon, and leave off this wenching, and this fighting, for I begin to find it not agree with me. R 3 Fred, 444 THE CHANCES. Fred. Madam, I am heartily glad to meet your ladyfhip here ; we have been in very great difor- der fince we faw you : What's here, our land- lady and the child again I Enter Duke, Petruchio, and Landlady, with the child. Pet. Yes, we met her going to he whipp'd, in a drunken conftable's hands, that took her for another. John. Why, then, pray let her e'en be taken, and whipp'd for herfelf, for on my word me de- ferves it. Land. Yes, I'm fure of your good word at an/ time. i Con. Hark ye, dear landlady. Land. O fweet goodnefs ! is it you ? I have been in fuch a peck of troubles fince I faw you, they took me, and they tumbled me, and they haul'd me, and they pull'd me, and they call'd me painted Jezebel, and the poor little babe here did fo take on. Come hither, my lord, come hi- ther ; here is Conftantia. i Con. THE CHANCES, a 43 i Con. For heaven's fake, peace ; yonder's my brother, and, if he difcovers me, I'm certainly ruin'd. Duke. No, madam, there's no danger. i Con. Were there a thoufand dangers in thofe arms, I would run thus to meet them. Duke. O my dear ! it were not fafe that any mould be here at prefent ; for now my heart is fo o'erprefs'd with joy, that I fliould fcarce be able to defend thee. Petr. Sifter, I'm fo afliam'd of all the faults, which my miftake has made me guilty of, that I know not how to afk your pardon for them. i Con. No, brother, the fault was mine, in miftaking you fo much, as not to impart the whole truth to you at firft ; but having begun my love without your confent, I never durft acquaint you with the progrefs of it. Duke. Come, let the confummation of our pre- fent joys blot out the memory of all thefe paft miftakes. yobn. And when mall we confummate our joys ? z Con. *46 THE CHANCES. 2 Con. Never : We'll find out ways fliall make 'em laft for ever. John. Now fee the odds, 'twixt married folks and friends ; Our love begins juft where their paflion ends. PI- P t L O CUE. JL Erhaps you, gentlemen, expet to-day The author of this fag end of a play, According to the modern way of wit, Should drive to be before-hand with the pit j Begin to rail at you, and fubtly to Prevent th' affront by giving the firft blow. He wants not precedents, which often fway In matters far more weighty than a play : But he, no grave admirer of a rule, Won't by example learn to play the fool. The end of plays mould be to entertain, And not to keep the auditors in pain. Giving our price, and for what trafli we pleafe, He thinks, the play being done, you fliould have eafe. No wit, no fenfe, no freedom, and a box, Is much like paying money for the ftocks. Befides, the author dreads the ftrut and mien Of new-prais'd poets, having often feen Some of his fellows, who have writ before, When Nell has danc'd her jig, fteal to the door, Hear the pit clap, and with conceit of that Swell, and believe themfelves the Lord knows what. I Moft EPILOGUE. Mod writers now a-days are grown fo vain, That, once approv'd, they write, -and write again } Till they have writ away the fame they got: Our friend this way of writing fancies not ; And hopes you will not tempt him with your praife, To rank himfelf v/ith fome, that write new plays i For he knows ways enough to be undone, Without the help of poetry for one. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JJP IB-URL ID t**v o o \* uu. KEC'D LD-URL ffi JAN iffl L DEC f naiB^ .'IVEfMV,