J I 'Ui \\lllBRARY/9/: >i ....iiVJ-JlV N? >- m ig^i KM ^ijDNvyii^ '%^]' ,OFCA!JFO/?,{;, ^\[UNrvfw,/, 1^ ^; ^JIJDNVSQI^'' fTf i lVOW, ^lirtnM (m lf\st^^\^^' iM iOr, LuiHiiiU'HCii : f^iti'^ed by James Culiuiityue & Co. ^ \%A.I > T31 V REMARKS. ISO is V This is an opera, in which plot, incident, and cha- racter are not subservient to the harmony of sweet sounds; but where sound and sense happily unite, to give entertainment to that taste, which is refined both in the one and the other. None but a churHsh spectator can behold this village group, without sharing in all their various interests and sensations their family quarrels, petty intrigues, diminutive gallantries, clownish stupidities, rural festivities, sparkling anger, flaming love, and all those freaks of pain, pleasure, or absurdity, which, passion deals out in the circle of a village, as well as in the precincts of a metropolis. " Love in a Village" was first performed in 1763; and is entitled to particular notice, because it has ever since been a favourite opera, and will certainly preserve to future times the station it has obtained upon the Knglish stage. Bickerstaff, the author, has borrowed part of this production from a work, entitled, the " Village Opera," by Charles Johnstone, and also from the " Gentleman Dancing Master," by Wycherley, one of the most indifferent among that poet's dramas; and 4 REMARKS* yet to him are present auditors indebted for that very pleasant scene, where Lucinda imposes her lover up- on her father in a counterfeit character, with the vain efforts of her aunt to point out the deception. It is great praise to the author of this opera, that music has neither made his lovers insipid, nor the other characters dull. Young Meadows and Rosetta excite sympathy, and their friends and acquaintance produce mirth ; yet, happily, not that species of mer- riment, which makes an enlightened auditor sigh whilst he laughs. Justice Woodcock's humour is perfectly natural ; and such is likewise the ill humour of his sister, the old muid. Hawthorn, the rustic sportsman, is nicely distin- gui-htd Tom the coarse, clowni5:h Hodge ; and the un the situation of his son, it was not requisite that lie slioiild likewise know Rosetta was in the same house. The fable, thus conducted, the final disco- vinv of evi'nis would have been postponed tiJU the conclusion of the piece. RIMASKS. 5 The famed Miss Brent was the original Hosetta ; the equally famed Miss Catley succeeded her ; and they each enriched the managers, and enraptured their audience, almost as much as Mrs Billington has mice done in any of her most favourite characters. a2 DRAMATIS PERSONi^. Sir William Meadows Young Meadoms Justice Woodcock Haavthobn Eustace Hodge Footman Carter ' Mr Waddy. Mr Incledon, Mr Munden. Mr Townsend. Mr Claremonf, Mr Emery. Mr Piatt. _ Mr Beverley^ Country Lads. Messrs Abbot L Bologna -Lee Odwell-^Streef' Tett Thomas Truman. ROSETTA LUCINDA Deborah Woodcock Margery Cook Housemaid Miss Mortimer^ Mrs Atkins. Mrs Davetiport, Mrs Martyr. Mr Harley, Mrs Castelle, Country Lasses. Mesdames Benson BolognaBlurton Bennet- Cox-^DibdiUf dfC. ^CENE^A ViUage. LOVE IN A VILLAGE. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE IV A Garden* RosETTACMf/LuciNDA are discovered at Worli, seated upo7i Two Garden Chairs. AIR I, Eos. H(^e ! thou nurse of young desire. Fairy promiser of joy ; Painted vapour, glo'vo-wonnjire, Temperate sueetf that ne*er can cloy : Lucin. Hope ! thou earnest of delight, Softest soother of the mind ; Balmy cordial, prospect bright. Surest Jriend the wretched Jind ; Both. Kind deceiver., flatter still. Deal out pleasures unpossest ; With thy dreams my fancy Jill, And in wishes make me blest* Lucin. Helgho Rosetta ! ftos. Well, child, what do you say ? 9 lOVE IH .& YII.LAGX. [AqTI. Luciru *Ti3 t. devilish thing to Jive in a village an hundied nriles Vroaa thfe capital, with a preposterous gouty father, and a superannuated maiden aunt. I am heartily sick of my situation. Ros. And with reason But *tis in a great measure your own fault : here is this Mr Eustace, a man of character and family ; he likes you, you like him ; you know one another's minds, and yet you will not resolve to make yourself happy with him. AIR 11. Whence can you inherit So slavish a spirit ? Confined thus and chained to a hg! Nawjbndledy novo chid. Permitted, forbid : *Tis leading the life of a dog* For shame, you a lover! Morejirmness discover. Talce courage, nor here longer mope; Resist and hefree^ Run riot like me. And, to perfect thepicture^ elope. Lucin. And this is your advice ? Ros. Positively, Lucin. Here's my hand ; positively I'll follow it I haye already sent to my gentleman, who is now in the country, to let him know he may come hither this day ; we will make use of this opportunity to settle all preliminaries And then But take notice, when- ever we decamp, you march off along with us. Ros. Oh ! madam, your servant ; 1 have no incli- nation to be left behind, I assure you But you say you got acquainted with this spark, while you were with your mother, during her last illness at Bath; so that your father has never seen him ? SCeXE I.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 9 Lucin. Never in his life, my dear; and I am con- fident he entertains not the lea^st suspicion of my ha- ving any such connt xion : my aunt, indeed, has her doubts and surmises ; but^ besides that my father will not allow any one to be wiser than himself, it is an e.>:tablished maxim between these affectionate re- lations, never to agree in any thing. Ros. Except being absurd ; you must allow they sympathize perfectly in that But, now we are on the subject, I desire to know what 1 am to do with this wicked old justice of peace, this libidinous father of yours i He follow s me about the house, like a tame goat. Lucin. Nay, I'll assure you he has been a wag in his time you must have a care of yourself. JRos. Wretched me ! to fail into such hands, who have been just forcea to run away from my parents to avoid an odious marriage You smile at that now; and I know you think me whimsical, as you have often told me ; but you must excuse my being a little over delicate in this particular. AIR HI. Ml/ hearths my oiwiy my will isfree. And so siicUi be my voice ; ^0 mortal man shall tved "with me, Tilljint he's made my choice. Let parents rule, cry nature*s laws. And children still obey; And is there then no saving clause. Against tyrannic sway ? Lucin. Well, but my dear mad girl Ros. Lucinda, don't talk to me W^as your father to go to London, meet there by accident with an old fellow, as wrong headed as himself, and in a *it of absurd friendship agree to marry you to that old fel- 10 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [aCT I. low's son, whom you had never seen, without con- sulting your inclinations, or allowing you a negative, in case he should not prove agreeable Lucin. Why, I should think it a little hard, \ con- fess -yet, when I see you in the character of a cham bermaid< Ros. It is the only character, ray dear, in which I could hope to lie concealed ; and 1 can tell you, I was reduced to the last extremity, when, in conse- quence of our old boarding-school friendship, I ap- plied to you to receive me in this capacity : for we expected the parties the very next week. Lucin. But had not you a message from your in- tended spouse, to let you know he was as little in- clined to such ill-concerted nuptials as you were ? Ros. More than so ; he wrote to advise me, by all means, to contrive some method of breaking them off, for he had rather return to his dear studies at Ox- ford ; and after tiiat, what hopes could 1 have of be- ing happy with him ? Lucin. Then you are not at all uneasy at the strange rout you must have occasioned at home ? 1 warrant, during this month you have been absent Ros. Oh ! don't mention it, my dear ; I have had so many admirers since I commenced Abicai!, that I am quite charmed with my 'situation But hold, who stalks yonder into the jiard, that the dogs are so glad to see ? . Lucin. Daddy Hawthorn, as I live ! He is come to pay ray father a visit; and never more luckily, for he always forces him abroad. By the way, what will you do with yourself, while I step into the house to see after ray trusty messenger, Hodge ? Ros. No matter: I'll sit down in that arbour, and listen to the singing of the birds : you know I am fond f melancholy amuseraents. Lucin. So it seems, indeed ; sure, Rosetta, nne of SCENE II.] LOVE IK A VILLAGE. 21 your admirers had power to touch your heart ! you are not in love, I hope ? Ros. In love ! that's pleasant : who do you suppose I should be in love with, pray ? Lucin. Why, let me see What do you think of Thomas, our gardener ? There he is, at the other end of the walk He*s a pretty young man, and the ser- vants say he's always writmg verses on you. Ros. Indeed, Lucijida, you are very silly. Lucin. Indeed, Rosetta, that blush makes you look very handsome. Ros. Blush ! I am sure I don't blush. Lucin. Ha, ha, ha! ' Ros. Pshaw, Lucinda, how can you be so ridicu- lous? Lucin. Well, don't be angry, and I have done But suppose you did like him, how could you help yourself? Air IV. When once Lovers subtle poiwn gains A passage to thejemale breast. Like lightning rushing through the vetns, Each wish, and every thought's possest^ To heal the pangs our minds endure, Reason in vain its skill applies ; Nought can afford tlie heart a cure. But what is pleasing to the eyes [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Part of the Garden. Enter YovviG Mkadows. V. Mead. Let me see on the fifteenth of June, at liiUt" an hour past five in the morning [Taking out ct Pocket-book.] 1 left my father's house, unknown to ^a}l one, having made free with a coat and jacket of If I.OVB IN A VILLAGK. tsCENfi I. our gardener*8 which fitted rae, by way of a disguise : so says my pocket-book ; and chance directing me to this village, on the twentieth of the same month, I procured a recom^nendation to the worshipful Justice Woodcock, to be the superintendant of his pumpkins and cabbages, because I would let my fattier see I chose to run any lengths rather than sutimit to what his obstinacy would have forced me, a marriage against my inclination, with a woman I never saw. [^Puts up the Bookf and takes up a Watering-pot.']' Here I have been three weeks, and in that time I am as much altered as if I changed my nature with my habit. 'Sdeath, to fall in love with a chamber-maid ! And yet, if I could forget that I am the son and heir of Sir William MeadowsBut that's impossible. AIR V. O ! had I been hy Fate decreed Some humble cottage swain. In fair Rosetta's sigTit to feed My sheep upon the plainy What bliss had I been born to taste. Which novo I ne*er must knovo ! Ye envious potuers I tvhy have ye placed My fair one*s lot so low ? Ha ! who was it I had a glimpse of as I pass'd by that arbour i Was it not she sat reading there ? The trem- bling of my heart tells me my eyes were not mistaken. Here she comes. Enter Rosetta, Ros, Lucinda was certainly in the right of it, and Jet I blush to own my weakness even to myself larry, hang the fellow, for not being a gentleman. y. Mead. I am determined I won't speak to her [Turning to a Rose-tree f and plucking the Flouiers.^-^ 10 SCKNE II.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 13 Now or never is the time to conquer myself; besides, I have some reason to believe the girl has no aversion to me : and, as I wish not to do her an injury, it would be cruel to fill her head with notions of what can never happen. [Hums a Tune.'] Pshaw ! rot these roses, how they prick one's fingers ! Ros. He takes no notice of me ; but so much the better, I'll be as indifferent as he is. I am sure the poor lad likes me ; and if I was to give him any en- couragement, I suppose the next thing he talked of would be buying a ring, and being asked in church Oh, dear pride, I thank you for that thought. Y. Mead. Ha ! going without a word ! a look ! I can't bear that Mrs Rosetta, I am gathering a few roses here, if you please to take them in with you. Ros. Thank you, Mr Thomas, but all my lady's flower-pots are full. Y. Mead. Will you accept of them for yourself, then ? [Catching hold of her.] What's the matter ? you look as if you were angry with me. Ros. Pray, let go my hand. y. Mead. Nay, pr'ythee, why is this ? you sha'n't go, I have something to say to you. Ros. Well, but 1 must go, I will go ; I desire> Mr Thomas Alft VI. Gentle youtht ah, tell me vohy Still you force me thus tojly ; Cease, oh ! cease, to persevere ^ Speak not what I must not hear ,* To my heart its ease restore ; Go, and never see me more. f Exit. y. 3lad. This girl is a riddle That she loves me, I think there is no room to doubt ; she takes a thou- sand opportunities to let me see it ; and yet when T B 14 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [aCT I. . speak to her,>she will hardly give me an answer ; and . if I attempt the smallest familiarity, is gone in an in- stant I feel n?y passion for her grow every day more and more violent Well, would I marry her ? would I make a mistress of her if I could ? Two things, called prudence and honour, forbid either. What am I pursuing, then ? A shadow. Sure my evil genius laid this snare in my way. However, there is one comfort, it is in my power to fly from it ; if so, why do I hesitate ? I am distracted, unable to determine any thing. AIR vir Still in hopes to get the better Of my stubborn flame I try ; Swear this moment to forget her^ And the next my oath deny. Now prepared toit/i scorn to treat Aer, Ev'ry charm in thought I brave ; Boast my freedom, Jly to meet her^ And confess myself a slave. [[Exit. SCBNE ir. A Hall in Justice Woodcock's House. Enter Hawthorn, ivith a Foivling-piece in his Handj and a Nci with Birds at his Girdle. AIR VIII. There was a jolly miller once. Lived on the river Dee ; He work'd and sung from morn till night ; N lark mre blitlie than he. 1 i^ENE III.3 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. IS And this the burden of his song For ever used to be, J care for nobody, no, not /, If no one cares for me. House, here, house ! what, all gadding, all abroad ? house, I say, hilli ho ho ! J. Wood. [ Without-] Here's a noise ! here's a rack- et ! William ! Robert ! Hodge ! why does not some- body answer ? Odds ray life, I believe the fellows have lost their hearing ! Enter Justice Woodcock. Oh, Master Hawthorn ! I guessed it was some such madcap Are you there ? Hatvth. Am I here ? Yes : and if you had been where I was three hours ago, you would find the good eftects of it by this time ; but you have got the lazy unwholesome London fashion of lying a bed in a morning, and there's gout for you Why, sir, I have not been in bed five minutes after sun-rise the^ thirty years, am generally up before it ; and I never took a dose of phyi^ic but once in my life, and that was in compliment to a cousin of mine, an apothecary, that had just set up in business. J. Wood. Well, but Master Hawthorn, let me tell you, you know nothing of the matter ; for I say sleep is necessary for a man ; ay, and I'll maintain it. Haxith What, when 1 maintain the contrary ? Look you, neighbour Woodcock, you are a rich man, a man of worship, a justice of peace, and all that ; but learn to know tJie respect that is due to the sound from the infinn ; and allow me that superiority a good constitution gives me over you Healtli is the greatest of all possessions ; and 'tis a maxim with me, that an hale cobler is a better man than a sick king. 16 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT U J. Wood. Well, well, you are a sportsman. Hawth. And so would you too, if you would take my advice. A sportsman ! why there is no- thing like it : I would not exchange the satisfaction I feel while I am beating the lawns and thickets about my little farm, for all the entertainments and pageantry in Christendom. AIR IX. Let gay ones and great Make the most qfihrirfafe; Trom pleasure to pleasure they run t JVell, xvho cares a Jot f I envy them not, While I have my dog and my gun*^ For exercise^ air^ To ihejieldi I repair^ With spirits unclouded and light ; The blisses IJind, No stings leave behind^ But health and diversion unite* Enter Hodge. Hodge. Did your worship call, sir ? J. Wood. Call, sir ! where have you and the rest of these rascals been ? but I suppose 1 need not ask^ You must know there is a statute, a fair for hiring ser- vants, held upon my green to-day ; we have it usually ' at this season of the year, and it never fails to put dil the folks hereabout out of their senses. Hodge. Lord, your honour, look out, and see what a nice show they make yonder; they had got pipers and fiddlers, and were dancing as I came along, for dear life I never saw such a mortal throng in our village in all my *iorn days again. Haivth, Why 1 like this now, this is as it should be* SCiirttU.] LOVE IN A VILLAGir. IT J. Wood. No, no, 'tis a very foolish piece of busi- ness ; good for nothing but to promote idleness and the getting of bastards : but I shall take measures for preventing it another year, and I doubt whether I am not sufficiently authorized already-; for by an act passed Anno undecimo Caroli primi, which impowers a justice of peace, who is lord of the manor Havath. Come, come, never mind the act ; let me tell you this i^ a very proper, a very useful meeting; I want a servant or two myself, 1 must go see what your market affords ; and you shall go, and the girls, my little Lucy and the other young rogue, and we'll make a day on't as well as the rest. J. Wood. I wish, master Hawthorn, I could teach you to be a little more sedate : why won't 3^ou take pattern by me, and consider your dignity? Odds heart, I don't wonder you are not a nch man ; you ]augh too much ever to be rich. Hnxvlh. Right, neighbour Woodcock! health, good-* humour, and competence, is my motto : and if my executors have a mind, they are welcome to make it niy epitaph. AIR X. TJie honest heart, tvJiose thoughts are clear Fr ??> fraud, disgiti^.e, and guile, Need neither Fortune'sjroxvningjear, Nor court the harlofs smile. The greatness that tvould make us grave Is but an cmptij thing / What more than mirth would mortals have f The cheerful man^s a king. [Exeunt, P. 'J IB LOVE IN A VILLAGE. (ACT U SCENE IV. The Hall. Enter "Lvcinji A and HoDGE. Lttcin* Hist, hist, Hodge ! Hodge. Who calls i here am L Lucin. Well, have you been ? Hodge. Been ! ay I ha* been far enough, an* that be all : you never knew any thing fall out so crossly in your born days. Lucin. Why, what's the matter ? Hodge. Why, you know, I dare not take a horse out of his worship's stables this morning, for fear it should be missed, and breed questions ; and our old nag at home was so cruelly beat i' th* hoofs, that, poor beast, it had not a foot to set to ground ; so I was fain to go to Farmer Ploughshare's, at the Grange, to bor- row the loan of his bald filly ; and, would you think it ? after walking all that way de'el from me, if the cross-grain'd toad did not deny me the favour. Lucin. Unlucky ! Hodge. Well, then I went my ways to the King's- head in the village, but all their cattle were at plough : and I was as far to seek below at the turnpike : so at last, for want of a better, I was forced to take up with Dame Quickset's blind mare. Lucin. Oh, then you have been ? Hodge. Yes, yes, I ha* been. Lucin. Pshaw ! Why did not you say so at once ? Hodge. Ay, but I have had a main tiresome jaunt on't, for she is a sorry jade at best. Lucin. Well, well, did you see Mr Eustace, and what did he say to you t Come, quick have you e'er a letter ? SCEKX IV.] LOVE IN A VILLAOB. 19 Hodge. Yes, he gave me a letter, if I ha'na lost it. Lucin. Lost it, man ! Hodge, Nay, nay, have a bit of patience : adwawns, you are always in such a hurry ^Rummaging his Pockets.'] I put it somewhere in this waistcoat pock- et Oh, here it is. Lucin. So, give it me. ^ Reads the Letter to herself, Hodge- Lord-a-raercy ! how my arms aches with beating that plaguy beast ; 1*11 be hang'd if I won'na rather ha* thrash'd half a day, than ha' ridden her. Lucin. Well, Hodge, you have done your business very well. Hodge. Well, have not I now ? Lucin. Yes Mr Eustace tells me in this letter, tliat he will be in the green lane, at the other end of the village, by twelve o'clock You know where he came before ? Hodge. Ay, ay. Luctn. Well, you must go there ; and wait till he arrives, and watch your opportunity to introduce him, across the fields, into the little summer-house, on the left side of the garden. Hodge. That's enough. Lucin. But take particular care that nobody sees you. Hodge. I warrant you. Lucin. Nor for your life drop a word of it to any mortal. Hodge. Never fear me. Lucin. And, Hodge AIR XI. Ilodge. Well, tvell, say no more ; Sure you told me before ; J see thejull length of my tether ; Do you think I'm a fool-, That I need go to school ? I can spell you and put you together. fO LOVE IN A VILLAGE. fACT U A iuord to the wise Will always suffice ; Addsniggers, go talk to your parrot; Pin not such an elf, Though 1 say it myself, But I know a sheep's head from a carrot, [Fxit. Lucin. How severe is my case ! Here I am obliged to carry on a clandestine correspondence with a man in all respects my equal, because the oddity of my* father's temper is such, that I dare not tell him I have ever yet seen the person I should like to marry But perhaps he has quality in his eye, and hopes, one day or other, as I am his only child, to match me with a^ title vain imagination ! AIR xrr. Cupid, god of soft persuasion^ Take the helpless lover's part : Seize, oh seize, some kind occasion^ To reward a faithful heart* Justly those we tyrants call. Who the body would eathral ; Tyrants of more cruel kind. Those who would enslave the mind. What is grandeur? foe to rest ; Childish mummery at best ; Happy I, in humble state ; Ciilch, yefjoh, the glittering bait, [Exiti SCENE v.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 21 SCENE V. A Fieldf with a Stile, JEnter HonGEy follovoed 5y Margery; and in some Time q/tery enier ioong Mi^aduws. Hodge. What does the wench follow me for ? Odds flesh, folks may well talk, to see you dangling after me every where, like a tantony pig : find some other road, can't you ; and don*t keep wherretting me with your nonsense. Marg. Nay, pray you, Hodge, stay, and let rae speak to you a bit. Hodge. Well ! what sayn you ? Marg. Dear heart, how can you be so barbarous ? and is this the way you serve me after all ? and won't you keep your word, Hodge ? Hodge. Why, no 1 won't, i tell you ; 1 have changed my mind. Marg. Nay, but surely, surely Consider, Hodge, you are obligated in conscience to make me an honest woman. Hodge. Obligated in conscience ! How am I ob- ligated I Marg* Because you are ; and none but the basest of rogues would bring a poor girl to shame, and af- terwards leave her to the wide world. Hodge. Bring you to shame! Don't make me speak^ Madge, don't make me speak. Marg. Yes do, speak your worst. Hodge. Why then, if you go to that, you were fain to leave your own village, down in the West, for a bastard you had by the clerk of the parish, and I'll bring the man ?hall say it to your face. Marg. No, no, Hodge, 'tis no such thing, 'tis abase lie of Farmer Ploughshare's But I know what makes you false-hearted to me, that you may keep company $2 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT I. with young madam's waiting woman, and I am sure she's no fit body for a poor man's wife. Hodge. How should you know what she's fit for ? She's fit fiar as much as you mayhap ; don't find fault with your betters, Madge [Seeing Young Mea- dows.] O, Master Thomas ! I have a word or two to say to you : Pray did not you go down to the village one day last week, with a basket of something upon your shoulder ? y. Mead. Well, what then ? Hodge. Nay, not much, only the ostler at the Green-man was saying as how there was a passenger at their house as see'd you go by, and said he know'd you : and axt a mort of questions So 1 thought I'd tell you. y. Mead. The devil ! ask questions about me ! I know nobody in this part of the country ; there must be some mistake in it Come hither, Hodge. [ExeimU Marg. A nasty ungrateful fellow, to use me at this rate, after being to him as I have. Well, well, I wish ail poor girls would take warning by my mishap, and never have nothing to say to none of them. AIR XIII. Hoto happy tvere my days till note / / ne'er did sorrovo feel., J rose with Joy to milk my coto. Or take my spinning-voheeU My heart ivas lighter than ajly^ Like any bird I sung, fill he pretended love, aiid I Believed his Jlattering tongue. Oh the fool, the silly fool. Who trusts what man may be ; / uish I teas a maid again. And in my oxvn country. [Exit* SCENE yi.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. . 23 SCENE VI. A Green, ivith the Prospect of a Village, and the Re' presentation of a Statute or Fair, Enter Justice Woodcock, Hawthorn, Mrs De- borah Woodcock, Lucinda, Rosetta, Young Meadows, Hodge, a7id several Country Peo- ple. Hodge. This way, your worship, this way. Why don't you stand aside there I Here's his worship a- coming. Countr. His worship ! J. Wood. Fye, fye, what a crowd's this! Odd, I'll put sorae of them in the stocks. [Striking a Fellow.'] Stand out of the way, sirrah. Haivth. For shame, neighbour. Well, my lad, are you willing to serve the king ? Countr. Why, can you list ma"? Serve the king, master ! no, no, I pay the king, that's enough for nie. Ho, ho, ho ! Haxvth. Well said. Sturdy-boots. J. Wood. Nay, if you talk to them, they'll answer you. Haivth. I would have them do so, I like they should. Well, madam, is not this a fine sight ? I did not know my neighbour's estate had been so well peopled. Are all these his own tenants? Mrs Deb. More than are good of them, Mr Haw- thorn. I don't like to see such a parcel of young hus- sies fleering with the fellows. Ha^xiJi. There's a la?!^. [Becl'oning to a Country GiTvL. Conic hiilitr, iry pretty maid, Y/hat brings 24; LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [aCTI. you here ? [Chucking her under the Chin."] Do you come to looK for a service ? C. Girl. Yes, an't please you. Haxjoth. Well, and what place are you for ? C, Girl. All work, an*t please you. J, Wood. Ay, ay, I don't doubt it ; any work youMl put her to. Mrs Deb. She loks like a brazen one Go, hussy. Hawth. Here's another. {^Catchingn Girl that goes fty.3 What health, what bloom ! This is nature's work ; no art, no daubing. Don't be ashamed, child ; those cheeks of thine are enough to put a whole draw- ing-room out of countenance. Hodge. Now, your honour, now the sport will come. The gut-scrapers are here, and some among them are going to sing and dance. Why there's not the like of our statute, mun, in five counties : others are but fools to it. Servant-man. Come, good people, make a ring, and stand out, fellow-servants, as many of you as are will- ing, and able to bear a bob. We'll let my masters and mistresses see we can do something at least; if they won't hire us, it sha'n't be our faiUt. Strike up the Servants' Medley. AIR XIV. Housemaid. / pray ye, gentles, list to me, Pm youngy and strengt and clean you see ; ril not turn tail to any she For xvork that's in the country. Of all your house the charge I take, I tvash, I scrub, I hreiv, I halce ; And more can do than here Pll speal'y Depending on your bounty. SCENE VI.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 2i Footman. I Behold a blade, toko knoxis his trade In chamber, hall, and entry ; And tvhat tho' here I now appear, I've served the best of gentry. A footman vcouldyou have, I can dress, and comb, and shave; For I a handy lad am ; On a message I can go. And slip a billet-doux. With yotir humble servant, madam. Cook-Maid. Who toants a good cook, my hand they must cross , For plain uiholesome dishes Prn ne'er at a loss ; And what are your soups, your ragouts, and your sauce. Compared to English roast bee/? Carter. If you want a young man, with a true honest hearty Who knows how to manage a plough and a cart, Here^s one for your purpose, come take me and try ; You'll say you n^er met with a belter nor I, Gee ho, Dobbin, S^c. Chorus. My masters and mistresses, hither repair ; What servants you want youlljind in ourfoir ; Men and maids Jit for all sorts of stations there be / And, as for the wages, voe sha'n't disagree* [Exeunt. 2S X,OVE IK A VILLAGE. [aCT II* ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. A Parlour in Justice Woodcock's House, LuciNDA and Eustace. JLucin. Well, am not I a bold adventurer, to bring you into my father's house at noon-day ? Though, to isay the truth, we are safer here than in the garden ; for there is not a human creature under the roof be* ides ourselves. Eust. Then why not put our scheme into execu- tion this moment ? I have a post chaise ready. Lucin, Fye ! how can you talk so lightly ? I pro- test I am afraid to have any thing to do with you, your passion seems too much founded on appetite ; and my aunt Deborah says Eust, What ! by all the rapture my heart novr feels Lucin. Oh, to be sure, promise and vow ; it sounds prettily, and never fails to impose upon a fond female. AIR XV. We tmmen like iveak Indians trade. Whose judgment tinsel shotu decoys ; Dupes to our Jolly toe are made. While artful man the gain enjoys : We give our treasure to be paid, A paltry i poor return ! in toys. SCIKE I.] XOVE IN A VILtAGt, 2? Etist. Well, I see you've a mind to divert yourself with me ; but 1 wish I could prevail on you to be a little serious. Lucin. Seriously then, what would you desire me to say ? I have promised to run away with yeu ; which is as great a concession as any reasonable lo- ver can expect from his mistress. Eust Yes; but, you dear provoking angel, you have not told me when you will run away with me. Lucin. Why that, 1 confess, requires some consi- deration. Eust. Yet remember, while you are deliberating, the season, now so favourable to us, may elapse, never to return. AIR XVI. Think, my fairest, h&w delay Danger every moment brings i Timejlies swift, and voill away; lime that's ever on its wings i Doubting and suspence at best. Lovers late repentance costs Let us, eager to be blest. Seize occasion ere *tis lost, . Enter Justice W^oodcock and Mrs Deborah W^OODCOCK. ./. Wood. Why, here is nothing in the world in this house but caterwauhng from morning to night no- thing but caterwauling. Hoity toity ! who have wc here ? Lucin. My father and my aunt ! Eust. The devil ! What shall we do ? Lucin. Take no notice of them, only observe me. [Speaks aloud to Eustace.] Upon my word, sir, I don't know what to say to it, unless the Justice was 28 LOVE IN A VILLAGB. f ACT II. at home ; he is just stepped into the village with some company; but, if you will sit down a moment, I dare swear he will return [Pretends to see the Justice.] Oh ! sir, here is my papa ! J. Wood. Here is your papa, hussy ! Who's tliis you have got with you ? Hark you, sirrah, who are you, ye dog ? and what's your business here I Eust, Sir, this is a language I am not used to. J, Wood. Don't answer me, you rascal I am a jus- tice of the peace ; and if 1 hear a word out of your mouth, I'll send you to jail, for all your laced hat. Mrs Deb. Send him to jail, brother, that's right. J. Wood. And how do you know 'tii right I How should you know any thing's right ? Sister Deborah, you are never in the right. Mrs Deb. Brother, this is the man I have been tell- ing you about so long. J. Wood. What man, goody Wiseacre ? Mrs Deb. Why, the man your daughter has an in- trigue with ; but I hope you will not beUeve it now, though you see it with your own eyes Come, hussy, confess, and don't let your father make a fool of him- self any longer, Lucin. Confess what, aunt ? This gentleman is a music-master : he goes about the country teaching ladies to play and sing ; and has been recommended to instruct me ; I could not turn him out when he came to offer his service, and did not know what an- swer to give him till I saw my papa. J. Wood. A music-master ! Eust. Yes, sir, that's my profession. Mrs Deb. It's a lie, young man ; it's a lie. Bro- ther, he is no more a music-master, than I am a mu- sic-master. J. Wood. What, then you know better than the fellow himself, do you ? and you will be wiser thgu, all the world I SCENE I.] lOVE IK A VILLAGE, 29 Mrs Deb. Brother, he does not look like a music- master. J. Wood. He does not look I ha! ha! ha! Was ever such a poor stupe! Well, and what does he look like then ? But I suppose you mean he is not dressed like a music-master, because of his ruffles, and this bit of garnishing about his coat ^which seems to be copper too Why, you silly wretch, these whipper- snappers set up for gentlemen, now-a>days, and give themselves as many airs as if they were people of quality Hark you, friend, 1 suppose you don't come within the vagrant act ? You have some settled habi- tation ? Where do you live ? Mrs Deb It's an easy matter for him to tell you a wrong place. J. Wood. Sister Deborah, don't provoke me. Mj-s Deb. I wish, brother, you would let me exa- mine him a little. J. Wood. You sha'n't say a word to him, you sha*n t say a word to him. Mrs Deb. She says he was recommended here, bro- ther ; ask him by whom ? /. Wood. No, I won't now, because you desire it. Lticin. If my papa did ask the question, aunt, it would be very easily resolved. Mrs Deb. Who bid you speak, Mrs Nimble Chops ? I suppose the man has a tongue in his head to answer for himself. J. Wood. Will nobody stop that prating old wo- man's mouth for me i Get out of the room. Mrs Deb. Well, so I can. brother ; I don't want to stay : but remember, I tell you, you will make your- self ridiculous in this affair ; for through your own obstinacy, you will have your daughter run away with before your face. ./. Wood. My daughter ! Who will nuj away with my daughter ? Mrs Deb. That fellow will. c2 30 ItOVE IK A VILLAGE. [aCT II. J. Wood, Go, go, you are a wicked censorious woman. Luciru Why sure, madam, you must think me very coming indeed. J. iVood. Ay, she judges of others by herself; I remember, when she was a girl, her mother dared not trust her the length of her apron string , she was clambering upon every young fellow's back. Mrs Deb. I was not. J. Wood. You were, Ludn, Well, but why so violent ? AIR XVII. Believe me, dear aunty If you rave thus and rant, You^U never a lover persuade ; The men will alljli/y And leave you to die, Oh, terrible cfiance ! an old maid. How happy the lass^ Must she come to this pass. Who ancient virginity *scapes ? *Twere better on earth, Have_five brats at a birth. Than in hell be a leader of apes. [Exit Mrs Deb. J. Wood, Well done, Lucy, send her about her bu- siness ; a troublesome, foolish creature ! does she think I want to be directed by her I Come hither, my lad, you look tolerable honest. Eu^t. I hope, sir, I shall never give you cause to alter your opinion. J. Wood- No, no, I am not easily deceived ; I am generally pretty right in my conjectures. You must know, I had once a little notion of music myself, and learned upon the fiddle; 1 could play the Trumpet Minuet, and Buttered Peas, and two or three tunes. SCBNE I.] LOVE IN A VILLAG*. 81 I remember when 1 was in London, about thirty years ago, there was a song, a great favourite at our club at Nando's coffee-house ! Jack Pickle used to sing it for us; a droll fish: but 'tis an old thing, I dare swear you have heard it often. AIR XVIII. When IJblloiued a lass that voaafrotaard and shy^ Oh ! I stuck to her stiiff', till I made her comply ; Oh ! I took her so lovingly round the tvaist^ And I smacked her lips, and held her Jast : When hugg'd andlmul'df She squeal d and squall* d; But though she vovo*d all I did tuas in vain^ Yet I pleased her so well that she bore it again c Then hoity, toity, Whiskingfjriskingf Green tuas her gown upon the grass ; Oh ! such were the Joys of our dancing days* Eust. Very well, sir, upon my word. J. Wood. No, no, I forget all those things now ; but I could do a little at them once : Well, stay and eat your dinner, and we'll talk about your teaching the girl Lucy, take your master to your spinnet, and show him what you can do I must go and give some orders; Then hoity^ toity ^8^c. [Exit. Lucin- My sweet pretty papa, your most obedient humble servant ; ha 1 ha ! ha ! was ever so whimsical an accident ! Well, sir, what do you think of this i Bust. Think of it ! I am in amaze. Lucin. O your awkwardness ! I was frightened out of my wits, lest you should not take the hint ; and if I had not turned matters so cleverly, we should have been utterly undone. Rust. 'Sdeath ! why would you bring me into the house ? we could expect nothing else : besides, since hey did surprise us, it would have been better to ^vc discovered the truth. 3^ LOVE IK A VILLAGE, [ACT II# Lucin. Yes, and never have seen one another after- wards ! 1 know my father better than you do ; he has taken it into his head, I have no inclination for a hus- band ; and, let me tell you, that is our best security ; for if once he has said a thing, he will not be easUy persuaded to the contrary. Eust. And pray what am I to do now ? Lucin. Why, as I think all danger is pretty well over, since he has invited you to dinner with him, stay ; only be cautious of your behaviour ; and, in the mean time, I will consider what is next to be done. Eust. Had not I better go to your father ? Lttcin- Do so, while I endeavour to recover myself a little out of the flurry this affair has put me in. Eui>t. Well, but what sort of a parting is this, with- out so much as "your servant," or "goodbye to you?" No ceremony at all ? Can you afford me no token tO| keep up my spirits till I see you again ? Lucin. Ah, childish ! Eust. My angel ! t * AIR XIX. Eust. Lei ralces and libertines resign*^ To scjisual pleasures, range; Here all the sex's charms Ijindy And ne''er can cool or change. Lucin. Let vain coquets and prudes conceal What most their hearts desire ; With pride mij passion I reveal.. Oh I may it ne'er expire. Both. The sun shall cease to spread its light. The stars their orbits leave ; And fair creation sink in nighty When I my dear deceive, [Exeunt. SCENE ir.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE; SS SCENE II. A Garden, Enter Rosetta. Ros. If ever poor creature was in a pitiable condl- t?on, surely I am. The devil take this fellow, I can- not get him out of my head ; and yet I would fain persuade myself I don't care for him well, but surely I am not in love ? Let me examine my heart a little : I saw him kissing one of the maids the other day I could have boxed his ears for it and have done nothing but find fault and quarrel with the girl ever since. Why was I uneasy at his toying with an- other woman I what was it to me i Then I dream of him almost every night but that may proceed from his being generally uppermost in my thoughts all day : O ! worse and worse ! Well, he is certainly a pretty lad; he has something uncommon about him, considering his rank : And now let me only put the case, if he was not a servant, would I, or would I not, prefer him to all the men I ever saw I Why, to be sure, if he was not a servant In short, I'll ask myself no more questions, for the further I examine, the less reason I shall have to be satisfied. AIR XX. Hotx) bless'd the maidy voJiose hosom No headstrong passion knows j Her days in joys she passes ^ Her nights in calm repose. Where'er her fancy leads her., No pain orje.ar invades her ; But pleasure^ Without measure^ From every object Jloxvs. t4l XOVE IN. A VILLAGE. f ACT 11. Enter Young Meadows. y. Mead. Do you come into the garden, Mrs Ro- setta, to put my lilies and roses out of countenance ; or to save me the trouble of watering my flowers, by reviving them ? The sun seems to have hid himself a little, to give you an opportunity of supplying hig place. Ros. Where could he get that now ? he never read it in the Academy of Compliments, y. Mead' Come, don't affect to treat me with con- tempt ; I can suffer any thing better than that ; ia short, I love you ; there is no more to be said : I an* angry with myself for it, and strive all I can against it : but, in spite of myself, I love you. AIR XXI. In vain I every art essay ^ To pluck the venorn'd shaft aiaay That rankles in my heart ; Deep in the centre Jixedy and bound. My efforts but enlarge the ivound, Andjiercer make the smart. Ros. Really, Mr Thomas, this is vcrjf improper language ; it is what I don't understand ; I can't suf- fer it, and, in short, I don't like it. y. Mead. Perhaps you don't like me. Ros. Well, perhaps I don't. y. Mead. Nay, but 'lis not so ; come, confess you love me. Ros. Confess ! indeed I shall confess no such thing : besides, to what purpose should I confess it ? y. Mead- Why, as you say, I don't know to what purpose ; only it would be a satisfaction to me to hear you say so ; that's all. SCENE II.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 35 Ros. Why, if I did love you, I can assure you, you would never be the better for it Women are apt enough to be weak ; we cannot always answer for our inclinations, but it is in our power not to give way to them; and if I was so silly I say, if I was so indiscreet, which I hope I am not, as to entertain an improper regard, when people's circumstances are quite unsuit- able, and there are obstacles in the vfay that cannot be surmounted y. Mead. Oh ! to be sure, Mrs Rosetta, to be sure : you are entirely in the right of it I know very well, you and I can never come together, Ros. Well, then, since that is the case, as I assure you it is, I think we had better behave accordingly. Y. Mead. Suppose we make a bargain then, nevei* to speak to one another any more ? Ros. With all my heart. y. Mead. Nor look, nor, if possible, think of one another ? Ros. I am very willing. Y. Mead. And, as long as we stay in the house to- gether, never to take any notice ? Ros. It is the best way. y. Mead. Why, I believe it is ^Well, Mrs Ro^ setta AIR XXII. Ros. Be gone / agree ; From this moment ixie*rejree i Already the matter Pve sivorn : Y. Mead. Yet let me complain Ofthejates that ordain, A trial so hard to be home. Ros. When things are notjity We should calmly submit / A'o cure in reluctance rcefmd. Y. Mead. Then thus I obeyy Tear your image aivay. And banish you quite from my mind. SQ LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [aCT If, Ros. [Aside.2 Well, now I think I am somewhat easier : I am glad I have come to this explanation with him, because it puts an end to things at once. Y. Mead, Hold, Mrs Rosetta, pray stay a moment The airs this girl gives herself are intolerable :- I find now the cause of her behaviour ; she despises the meanness of my condition, thinking a gardener below the notice of a lady's waiting woman ! *Sdeath, I have a good mind to discover myself to her. [Aside. Ros. Poor wretch ! he does not know what to make of it : I believe he is heartily mortified ; but I must not pity him. [Aside. Y. Mead. It shall be so ; I will discover myself to her, and leave the house directly Mrs Rosetta , [Starting back.] Pox on it, yonder's the justice come into the garden ! Ros. O lord ! he will walk round this way ; pray go about your business ; I would not for the world he should see us together. y. Mead. The devil take him ! he's gone across the parterre, and can't hobble here this half hour; I must and will have a little conversation with you. Ros. Some other time. y. Mead. This evening, in the green-house at the lower end of the canal ; I have something to com- municate to you of importance. Will you meet mc there i Ros. Meet you I y. Mead. Ay ; I have a secret to tell you ; and I swear from that moment there shall be an end of every thing betwixt us. Ros. Well, well, pray leave me now. y. Mead. You'll come then i Ros. I don't know, perhaps I may. y. Mead. Nay, but promise. Ros. What signifies promising ; I may break my promise but I tell you I will. Y. Mead, Enough Yet before I leave you, let mc SCENE II.3 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 57 desire you to believe I love you more than ever ma,n loved woman ; and that, when I relinquish you, I give up all that can make my life supportable. AIH XSIII. Oh ! koto shall I in language 'voeah Ml] ardent passion tell ; Or form my faWring tongiie to speah That cruel tuord, farewell I Fareiuell but know, though thus tve part. My thoughts can never stray : Go tuhere I tvillf my constant heart Must with my charmer stay. [Exit. Ros. What can this be that he wants to tell me ? I have a strange curiosity to hear it, metbinks well Enter Justice Woodcock, J. Wood. Hem ; hem ; Eosetta ! Ros. So, I thought the devil would throw him in my way ; now for a courtship of a different kind ; but I'll give him a surfeit Did you call me, sir ? J. Wood. Ay, where are you running so fast ? Ros. I was only going into the house, sir. J. Wood. Well, but come here ; come here, I say. [Looking about.] How do you do, Rosettaf Ros. Thank you, sir, pretty well. J. Wood. Wh)^,you look as fresh and bloomy to-day Adad, you little slut, I believe you are painted. Ros. O ! sir, your are pleased to compliment. J. Wood. Adad, I believe you are let me try Ros. Lord, sir ! J. Wood. What brings you into this garden so of- ten, Rosetta ? I hope you don't get eating green fruit and trash ; or have you a hankering after some lover in dowlas, who spoils my trees, by engraving true- Jg LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT II lovers* knots on them, with your horn and buck-hand- led knives ? I see your name written upon the del- ing of the servants* hall, with the smoke of a candle ; and I suspect Ros. Not me, I hope, sir, No, sir ; I am of an- other guess mind, I assure you ; for, 1 have heard say men are false and fickle J. Wood, Ay, that*s your flaunting, idle young fel-^ lows ; so they are : and they are so damn'd impudenW I wonder a woman will have any thing to say to theni ; besides, all that they want is something to brag of, and tell again. Ros. Why, I own, sir, if ever I was to make a slip, it should be with an elderly gentleman about seven- ty, or seventy-five years of age. J. Wood. No, child, that's out of reason ; though I have known many a man turned of threescore with a hale constitution. Ros. Then, sir, he should be troubled with the gout, have a good strong, substantial, winter cough -rand I should not like him the worse ^if he had a small touch of the rheumatism. J. Wood- Pho, pho, Rosetta, this is jesting. Ros. No, sir, every body has a taste, and I have mine. J. Wood. Well, but, Rosetta, have you thought of what I was saying to you ? Ros, What was it, sir ? J. Wood, Ah ! you know, you know well enough, hussy. Ros. Dear sir, consider what has a poor servant to depend on but her character ? And, I have heard, you gentlemen will talk one thing before, and another ^fler. J, Wood. I tell you again, these are the idle, flashy young dogs : but when you have to do with a s^idj I ^ober man ' ^os. And a magistrate, sir ! I CEN2 II.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE, S9 J. Wood. Right ; it's quite a difFereut tiling Well, shall we, Rosetta, shall we ? Ros* Really, sir, I don't know what to say to it* AIR XXIV. Young I amy and sore afraid * Would 1/ou hurt a harmless maid? ' Lead an innocent astray ? Tempt me not, kind sir, I pray. Men too often tve believe : And should you myjaith deceive, Jtuinjirst and thenjbrsake. Sure my tender heart would break. j. Wood. Why, you silly girl, I won't do you any harm. Ros. Won't you, sir ? J. fFoorf. Not I. Ros. But won't you, indeed, sir ? J. Wood. Why, I tell you I won't. Ros. Ha, ha, ha ! J. Wood. Hussy, hussy. Ros. Ha, ha, ha ! Your servant, sir, your servant. [Exit* J. Wood. Why, you impudent, audacious Enter Hawthorn. Haicth, So, so, justice at odds with gravity ! his worship playing at romps ! Your servant, sir. J. Wood, Haw : friend Hawthorn ! Havoth. I hope I don't spoil sport, neighbour : I thought I had the glimpse of a petticoat as I came in here. J. Wood. Oh ! the maid Ay, she fias been ga- thering a sallad But come hither, Master Hawthorn, and I'il show you some alterations i intend to make in my garden. 40 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. f ACT 11. Hatvth. No, no, I am no judge of it ; besides, I want to talk to you a little more about this Tell me, Sir Justice, were you helping your maid to ga- ther a sallad here, or consulting her taste in your im- provements, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! Let me see, all among the roses ; egad, I like your notion : but you look a little blank upon it : you are ashamed of the business, then, are you ? AIR XXV. Oons ! neighbour f ne'er blush for a trifle like this ; What harm voiih a fair one to toy ajid to kiss ? The greatest and gravest a truce tvith grimace ! Would do the same things tvere Ihey in the same flace* No age, no profession, no station is fi-ee; To sovereign beauty mankind bends the knee . That poiver resistless, no strength can oppose^ We all love a pretty girl under the rose* J. Wood. I profess. Master Hawthorn, this is all Indian, all Cherokee language to me ; I don't under- stand a word of it. Hawtk. No, may be not: well, sir, will you read this letter, and try whether you can understand that? it is just brought by a servant, who stays for an an- swer. J Wood. A letter, and to me ! [Taking the Letter.] Yes, it is to mc; and yet I am sure it comes from no correspondent that I know of Where are my spec- tacles ? not but I can see very well without them. Master Hawthorn ; but this seems to be a sort of a crabbed hand. Sir, 7 am achamed of giving you this trouble j but I am informed there is an unthinking boy, a son qfminef SCENE *.] LOVE IN A VILLAGfE, 4t nolo disguised and in your service^ in the cdpacity of a gardener : Tom is a little 'wild, but an honest lad, and no fool either., though I am his father that say it." - Tom oh, this is Thomas, our gardener ; I always thought that he was a better man's child than he ap- peared to be, though 1 never mentioned it. Haiiith. Well, well, sir, pray let's hear the rest of the letter. J. Wood. Stay, where is the place ? Oh, here ^ I am come in quest of my runaixiay, and 'write this at an inn in your 'village^ ivhile I am swallouiing a morsel of dinner : because not having the pleasure of your acquaint- ance, I did not care to intrude, Voithout giving you nO" tice (Whoever this person is, he understands good manners.) / beg leave to xvait on you, sir ; but de- sire you would keep my arrival a secret, particularly from the young man. William Meadows. I'll assure you, a very well-worded, civil letter. Do you know any thing of the person who writes it,neigh- bour ? Havoth. Let me consider Meadows ^by dad, I be lieve it is Sir William Meadows of Northamptonshire ; and, now I remember, I heard, some time ago, that the heir of that family had absconded, on account of a marriage that was disagreeable to him. It is a good many years since I have seen Sir William, but we were once well acquainted ; and, if you please, sir, I will go and conduct him to the house. J. IVood. Do so. Master Hawthorn, do so, But^ pray, what sort of a man is this Sir William Meadows? Is he a wise man ? Haxvth. There is no occasion for a man that has five thousand pounds a year to be a conjuror ; but I suppose you ask that question, because of this storj jj2 42 rOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT II. about his son ; taking it for granted, that wise parents make wise children. J. Wood. No doubt of it, Master Hawthorn, no doubt of it I warrant we shall find now, that tliis young rascal has fallen in love with some minx, against his father's consent Why, sir, if I had as many children as King Priam had, that we read of at school, in the destruction of Troy, not one of them should serve me so. Haxxilh. Well, well, neighbour, perhaps not; but we should remember we were young ourselves ; and I was as likely to play an old don such a trick in my day, as e'er a spark in the hundred : nay, between you and me, I had done it once, had the wench been as wiUing as I. AIR XXVI. My Dolly tons the fairest thing ! Her breath disclosed the stveets of spring ; And if for summer you ivould seek, 'Twas painted in her eye, her cheek ; Her swelling bosom^ tempting ripCj Of fruitful autumn tvas the type ; JSttt when my tender tale I toldf I found her heart was winter cold. J. Wood. Ah, you were always a scape-grace rat- tle-cap. Hawth. Odds heart, neighbour Woodcock, don't tell me, young fellows will be young fellows, though we preach till we're hoarse again : and so there's an find on't. [Exeunt. SCENE III.] LOVE IN A VILLAGH* 4$ SCENE III. Justice Woodcock's Hall. Hodge and Margery. Hodge, So, mistress, who let you in ? Mnrg. Why, I let myself in. Hodge, Indeed ! Marry come up ! why, then, pray let yourself out again. Times are come to a pretty pass ; I think you might have had the manners to knock at the door first. What does the wench stand for? Marg. I want to know if his worship's at home ? Hodge. Well, what's your business with his wor- ship ? Marg. Perhapsyou will hear that Lookye, Hodge, it does not signify talking, I am come, once for all, to know what you intends to do ; for I won't be made a fool of any longer. Hodge. You won't ? Marg. No, that's what I won't, by the best man tjiat ever wore a head. I am the make-game of the whole village upon your account ; and I'll try whe- ther your master gives you toleration in your doings. Hodge. You will ? Marg, Yes, that's what I will ; his worship shall be acquainted with all your pranks, and see how you will like to be sent for a soldier. Hodge. There's the door ; take a friend's advice, and go about your business. Marg. My business is with his worship, and I won't go till 1 sees him. Hodge, Look you, Madge, if you make any of 44* tOVE IN A VILLAGE. / [acT II. your orations here, never stir if I don't set the dogs at you Will you begone ? Marg. I won't. Hodge, Here, Towzer. ^WldstUng.'] Whu, whu, whu! Alft XXVII. Was ever poorfellotn so plagued luiih a vixen ? Zomids ! Madge, don't provoke me ; but mindxvhaC I say; You've chose a wrong person /or playing your tricks on. So pack up your alls, and be trudging away : You had better be quiet, And not breed a riot ; ^Sblood, must I stand prating with you here all day? Pve got other matters to mind j Mayhap you may think me an ass ; But to the contrary you'll Jind : A fine piece of work, by the mass ! Enter Rosetta. Ros. Sure I heard the voice of discord here^-as I- live, an admirer of mine ; and, if I mistake not, a ri- val I'll have some sport with them. How now, fel- low-servant, what's the matter ? Hodge. Nothing, Mrs Rosetta ; only tin's young woman wants to speak with his worship. Madge, fol- low me. Marg. No, Hodge, this is your fine madam : but I am as good flesh and blood as she, and have as clear a skin too, tho'f I mayn't go so gay : and now she's here, I'll tell her a piece of my mind. Hodge. Hold your tongue, will you I Marg. No, I'll speak if 1 die for it. Ros. What's the matter, I say ? Hodge, Why nothing, 1 tell you ; Madge-* SCENE in.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 45 Marg. Yes, but it is something, it*s all along of she, and she may be ashamed of herself. Ros. Bless me, child, do you direct your discourse to me ? Marg. Yes, I do, and to nobody else ; there was not a kinder soul breathing than he was till of late. I had never a cross word from him till he kept you company ; but all the girls about say there is no such thing as keeping a sweetheart for you. Bos. Do you hear this, friend Hodge ? Hodge. Why, you don't mind she, I hope ; but if that vexes her, 1 do like you, I do ; my mind runs upon nothing else ; and if so be as you was agreeable to it, I would marry you to-night, before to-mor- row. Marg. You're a nasty monkey, you are parjured, you know you are, and you deserve to have your eyes tore out. Hodge. Let me come at her I'll teach you to call names, and abuse folks. Marg. Do strike me ; you a man ! Jtos. Hold, hold we shall have a battle here pre- sently, and I may chance to get my cap tore off Never exasperate a jealous woman ; 'tis taking a mad bull by the horns Leave me to manage her. Hodge. You manage her ! I'll kick her. Ros. No, no, it will be more for my credit to get the better of her by fair means I warrant I'll bring her to reason. Hodge. Well, do so then But may I depend upon you ? when shall I speak to the parson ? Ros. We'll talk of that another time Go. Hodge. Madge, good bye. [Exit. Ros. The brutality of this fellow shocks me ! Oh, man, man you are all alike A bumpkin here, bred at the barn-door ! had he been brought up in a court, could he have been more fashionably vicious ? show 46 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. ACT II. me the lord, 'squire, colonel; or captain of t]iem all, can outdo him. AIR xxviri. CeasCy gay seducerSy nride to talce In triumphs o'er the fair ; Since clowns as well can act the rake As those in higher sjjhere. Where then to shun a shamefidjdte Shall helpless heavty go "i In ev'ry rank, in ev'rif tatey Poor woman Jiuds a Joe. , Marg, I am ready to burst ; I can't stay in the place any longer. Ros. Hold, child come hither. Marg. Don't speak to me, don't you. Ros. Well, but I have something to say to you of consequence, and that will be for your good ; I sup- pose this fellow promised you mai riage i Marg. Ay, or he should never have prevail'd upon me. Ros, Well, now you see the ill consequence of trusting to such promises : whon once a man hath cheated a woman of her virtue, she has no longer hold of liim ; he despises her for wanting that which he hath robb'd her of; and, like a lawlc'^s conqueror, triumphs in the ruin he hath occasioned. Marg. Nan ! Ros. However, I hope the experience you have got, though somewhat dearly purchased, will be of use to you for the future ; and as to any designs I have upon the heart of your lover, you may mak yourself easy, for, I assure you, I shall be no dan- gerous rival ; so go your ways, and be a good girl. lExit. SCENE IV,] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 47 Marg. Yes I don't very well understand her talk, but I suppose that's as much as to say she'll keep him to herself: well, let her who cares ? I don't fear getting better nor he is any day of the year, for the matter of that ; and I have a thought come into my head that may be will be more to my advantage. AIR XXIX. Siiice Hodge proves ungratefuly no further Pll seeJc^ But go up to town in the waggon next tveek ; A service in London is no such disgrace^ A}id Register's office will get me a place : Bet Blossom went there, and soon met with ajriend ; Folks say in her silks she's now standing on end ! Then why shoidd not I the same maxim pursue, And better myjbrtune as other girls do ? [Exit, SCENE IV. A Room in Justice Woodcock's House* Enter Rosetta and Lucinda. Ros. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Oh, admirable, most delecta- bly ridiculous. And so your father is content he should be a music-master, and will have him such, in spite of all your aunt can say to the contrary ? Lucin. My father and he, child, are the best com- panions you ever saw, and have been singing together the most hideous duets ! Bobbing Joan, and Old Sir Simon the King : Heaven knows where Eustace could pick them up ; but he has gone through half the con- tents of Pills to purge JMelancholy with him, Ros. And have you resolved to take wing tO" night ? Luciii, This very night, my dear ; my swain will go 48 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [aCT II, from hence this evening, but no farther than the inn where he has left his horses; and at twelve precisely, he will be with a post-chaise at the little gale that opens from the lawn into the road, where I have pro- mised to meet him. Ros. Then, depend upon it, 1*11 bear you company. Liicin. We shall slip out when the family are asleep, and I have prepared Hodge already. Well, I hope we shall be happy. Ros. Never doubt it. AIR XXX. In love should there meet afondpairy Untutored by fashion or arty Whose mshes are luarm and sincere. Whose words are th* excess of the heart : If aught of substantial delight. On this side the stars can befonnd^ 'Tis sure tvhen that couple unite. And Cupid by Hymen is croivn'd. Enter Hawthorn. Haxuth. Lucy, where are you ? Lucin. Your pleasure, sir ? Ros. Mr Hawthorn, your servant. Hatvth, What, my little water wag-tail ! The very couple I wish'd to meet : come hither, both of you, Ros. Now, sir, what would you say to both of us? Hatvth, Why, let me look at you a little have you got on your best gowns, and your best faces i If not, go and trick yourselves out directly, for I'll tell you a secret there will be a young bachelor in the house, within these three hours, that may fall to the share of one of you, if you look sharp but whether mis- tress or maid SCENE IV.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 49 Ros. Ay, marry, this is something ; but how do you know whether either mistress or maid will think him worth acceptance ? Hatvih. Follow me, follow me ; I warrant you. Lucin. I can assure you, Mr Hawthorn, I am very difficult to please. Ros. And so am I, sir. Haivth. Indeed! AIR XXXI, Well, come, let us hear tvJiat the stuain must possess. Who may hope at yourjeet to implore 'with success ? Eos. Lucin. Eos. Lucin. Eos. Lucin. Eos. Hawth. Lucin. Hawth. Eos. Lucin. Eos. Hawth, Ros. He must be,Jirst of all. Straight, comely, and tall : Neither atukward Norjbolish, Nor apish, / Nor mulish ; J- Nor yet should his fortune he stnalL What think* st of a captain ? All bluster and xvounds J What thinPst of a *squire ? To be left to his hounds. -V The youth that is formed to my mind, Musi be gentle, obliging and kind ; \ Of all things in nature love me : \ Have sense both to speak and to see"" ^ Yet sometimes be silent and blind. 7 'Fore George f a most rare matrimonial re- J ceipt I { Observe it, ye fair, in the choice of a mate ; Lucin. J Remember, 'tis tvedlock determines youTfates 50 LOVE IN A VILLAGE, [ACT HI. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. A Parlour vi Justice Woodcock*s House. Enter Sir William M.EADoyfSfJbllovoed by Haw^ THORN. 8ir Will. Well, this is excellent, this is mighty good, this is mighty merry, faith ; ha ! ha ! ha ! was ever the liise heard of? that my boy, Tom, should run away from me for fear of being forced to marry a girl he never saw ! that she should scamper from her father for fear of being forced to mairy him ; and that they should run into one another's arms this way in disguise, by mere accident, against their con- sents, and without knowing it, as a body may say ! May 1 never do an ill turn, Master Hawthorn, if it is not one of the oddest adventures partly Haxjoth. Why, Sir William, it is a romance a no- vel a jxleasanter history by half, than the Loves of Dorastus and Faunia : we shall have ballads made of it within these two months, setting forth, how a young 'squire became a semng man of low degree ; and it will be stuck up with Margaret's Ghost and the Spa- nish Lady, against the wails of every cottage in -the country. Sir IVill. But what pleases me best of all. Master Hawthorn, is tlie ingenuity of the girl. May 1 never do an ill turn, when 1 was called out of the room, and the servant said she Avanted to speak to me, il I 3 SCENE I.] LOVE IN A VILLACE. 51 knew what to make on't : but when the little gipsey took me aside, and told me her name, and how mat- ters stood, 1 was quite astonished, as a body may say ; and could not believe it partly, till her young friend, that she is with here, assured me of the truth on't : indeed, at last, I began to recollect her face, though I have not set eyes on her before, since she was tlie height of a full-grown gre3'hound. Havoth. Weil, Sir William, your son as yet knows nothing of what has happened, nor of your being come hither; and, if you'll follow my counsel, we'll have some sport with him. He and his mistress were to meet in the garden this evening by appoiutment ; she's gone to dress herself in all her airs ; will you let me direct your proceedings in this affair ? Sir Will. With all my heart. Master Hawthorn, with all my heart ; do what you will with me, say what you please for me ; I am so overjoyed, and so happy And may I never do an ill turn, but I am very glad to see you too ; ay, and, partly, as much pleased at thai as any thing else, for we have been merry together before now, when we were some years younger : well, and how has the world gone with you. Master Hawthorn, since we saw one another last ? Hawth. Why, pretty well, Sir William ; I have no reason to complain: every orlehas a mixture of sour with his sweets ; but, in the main, 1 believe, 1 have done in a degree as tolerably as my neighbours. AIR XXXI I. The tcorld is a ineV-furnisJi'd tables Where the guests are promise ouslij set- We all Jure as zvell as tcc'rc able, And scramble Jbr xxhat mc can gck 52 LOVB IN A VILLAGE. [ACT III, My simile holds to a tittle, Some gorge., while some scarce have a taste s But ifPrn content tvith a little^ Enough is as good as a feast. Enter Rosetta. Ros. Sir William, I beg pardon for detaining you, but I have had so much difficulty in adjusting my borrowed plume s Sir fVill. May I never do an ill turn, but they fit you to a T, and you look very well, so you do : Cocksbones, how your father will chuckle when he comes to hear this ! Her father, Master Hawthorn, is as worthy a man as lives by bread, and has been almost out of his senses for the loss of her But tell me, hussy, has not this been all a scheme, a piece of conjuration between you and my son ? Faith, I am half persuaded it has ; it looks so like hocus pocus, as a body may say. Ros. Upon my honour. Sir William, what has hap- pened has been the mere effect of chance ; I came hither unknown to your son, and he unknown to rae : I never in the least suspected that Thomas the gar- dener was other than his appearance spoke him ; and, least of all, that he was a person with whom I had so close a connexion. Mr Hawthorn can testify the astonishment I was in when he first informed me of it ; but I thought it was my duty to come to an immediate explanation with you. Sir Will. Is not she a neat wench, Master Haw- thorn ? May I never do an ill turn, but she is But you little plaguy devil, how came this love affair be- tween you ? Ros. I have told you the whole truth, very ingenu- ously, sir ; since your son and I have been fellow- servants, as I may call it, in this house, I have had more than reason to suspect he had taken a liking to SCENE r.] LOVJS IN A VILLAGE. 53 me; and I will own, witli equal frankness, had I not looked upon him as a person so much below me, I should have had no objection to receiving his court- ship. Havcth. Well said, by the lord Harry ! all above board, fair and open. Ros, Perhaps 1 may be censured by some for this candid declaration, but I love to speak my senti- ments ; and I assure you. Sir William, in ray opi- nion, I should prefer a gardener, with your son's good qualities, to a knight of the shire without them. AIR XXXIII. *Tis not tvealth, it is net bit thy Can value to the soul convey ; Minds possess superior worthy Which chance nor gives nor tales axwyt Like the sun, true merit shotvsy -By nature ivarnty by nature bright ; With inbred Jiames, he nobly glotxSy Nor needs the aid of borrovi'd light, Ilaivth. Well, but sir, we lose time is not this about the hour appointed to meet ia the garden ? Ros. Pretty near it. Hatvth. Oons, then, what do we stay for ? Come, my old friend, come along ; and, by the way, we will consult how to manage your interview. Sir WilL Ay, but I must speak a word or two to my man about the horses first. \Exeunt Sir William and Hawthorn. Enter Hodge. Ros. Well What's the business ? Hodge, Madam Mercy on us, I crave pardon ! Bos. Why, Hodge, don't you know me ? Hodge% Mrs Kosetta ? e2 Sit LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT III, Ros. Ay. Hodge. Know you ! Ecod, I don't know whether I do or not : never stir, if I did not think it was some lady belonging to the strange gentlefolks : why, you ben't dizen'd this way to go to the statute dance pre- sently, be you ? Ros. Have patience, and you'll see : but is there any thing amiss, that you came in so abruptly ? Hodge. Amiss ! why, there's ruination. Ros. How ? where ? Hodge. Why, with Miss Lucinda : her aunt has catch'd she and the gentleman above stairs, and over- heard all their love disco urs Ros. You don't say so ? Hodge. Ecod, I had like to have popp'd in among them this instant ; but, by good luck, I heard Mrs Deborah's voice, and run down again, as fast as ever my legs could carry me. Ros. Is your master in the house ? Hodge. What, his worship ? No, no ; he is gone into the fields, to talk with the reapers and people. Ros. Poor Lucinda! I wish I could go up to her; but I am so engaged with my own affairs Hodge. Mrs llosetta. Ros. Well ? Hodge. Oddsbobs, I must have one smack of your sweet lips. Ros. Oh, stand oft"; you know I never allow li- berties. Hodge. Nay, but why so coy ? there's reason in roasting of eggs ; I would not deny you such a thing. Ros. That's kind: ha! ha! ha! But what will become of Lucinda ? Sir William waits for me ; I must be gone. Friendship, a moment by your leave : yet, as our sufl^erings have been mutual, so shall our joys ; I already lose the remembrance of all former pains and anxieties. SCENE I.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. SS AIR XXXIV. The traveller benighted. And led thro* ivearied ivaj/s. The lamp of day nexv lightedy With joy the daton surveys. The rising prospects viewing, Each look isfrnxard cast ; He smiles, his course pursuing. Nor thinks of vohat is past* [Exit* Hodge. Hist, stay ! don't I heai' a noise ? Lucin. [ Within.] Well, but dear, dear aunt Mrs Deb. [ Within. 3 You need not speak to me for it does not signify. , Hodge. Adwawns, they are coming here ! ecod, I'll get out of the way Murrain take it, this door is bolted now So, so. Enter Mrs Deborah, driving in Lucinda. Mrs Deb. Get along, get along ; you are a scan- dal to the name of Woodcock ; but I was resolved to find you out, for I have suspected you a great while, though your father, silly man, will have you such a poor innocent. Lucin. What shall I do ? Mrs Deb. 1 was determined to discover what you and your pretended music-master were about, and lay in waif on purpose: I beheve he thought to escape me, by slipping into the closet when I knocked at the door ; but I was even with him, for now I have him under lock and key, and, please the fates, there he shall remain till your father comes in : I will convince him of his error, whether he will or not. Lucin. Yon won't be so cruel : I am sure you won't : 56 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT III; I thought I had made you my friend by telling you the truth. Mrs Deb. Telling me the truth, quotha I did I not overhear your scheme of running away to-night, through the partition ? did not I find the very bundles pack'd up in the room with you, ready for going off? No, brazenface, I found out the truth by my own sagacity, though your father says 1 am a fool ; but now we'll be judged who is the greatest ; and you, Mr Rascal, my brother shall know what an honest servant he has got. Hodge. Madam! Mrs Deb. You were to have been aiding and as- sisting them in their escape, and have been the go- between, it seems, the letter-carrier ! Hodge. Who me, madam ? Mrs Deb. Yes, you sirrah. Hodge. Miss Lucinda, did I ever carry a letter for you ? 1*11 make my affidavy before his worship Mrs Deb. Go, go, you are a villain ; hold your tongue. Lucin. I own, aunt, I" have been very faulty in this affair ; I don't pretend to excuse myself; but we are all subject to frailties; consider that, and judge of me by yourself; you were once young and inex- perienced as I anu AIR XXXV. Ifexter a fond inclination Rose in your bosom to roh you of rest ; Reflect with a little compassion. On the soft pangs, xv/iich prevail in my breast. Oh ivhercy -where would you fly me ? Can you deny me thus torn and distrest? Think, when my lover was by me, Wou'd /, how cou*d I, refuse his request ? SCJJNE I.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE* 57 Kneeling before you, let me implore you f Look on me sighing, aying, dying ; Ah ! is there no language can move ? If I have been too complying^ Hard taas the conflict 'twixt duty and love. Mrs. Deb. This is mighty pretty romantic stuff! but you leam it out of your play-books and novels. Girls in my iimo had other employments ; we worked at our needles, and kept ourselves from idle thoughts: before I was your age, I Jiad finished with my own fingers, a complete set of chairs, and a fire-screen in ten-stitch ! four counterpanes in Marseilles quilting ; and the Creed and the I en Commandments, in the hair of our family : it was framed and glazed, and hung over the parlour chimney-piece, and your poor dear grandfather was prouder of it than of e'er a pic- ture in his house; I never looked into a book, but when 1 said my prayers, except it was the Complete Housewife, or the great family receipt-book : where- as you are always at your studies ! Ah, I never knew a woman come to good that was fond of reading. Lucin. Well, pray, madam, let me prevail on you to give me the key, to let Mr Eustace out, and I pro- mise, I never will proceed a step farther in this bu- siness without your advice and approbation. Mrs Deb. Have not I told you already my resolu- tion ? Where are my clogs and my bonnet ? I'll go out to my brother in the fields ; Pm a fool, you know, child : now let's see what the wits will think of them- selves Don't hold me Lucin. I'm not going ; I have thought of a way to be even with you, so you may do as you please. [Exeunt different Ways. Hodge. Well, I thought it would come to this ; I'll be shot if I didn't So, here's a fine job But what can they do to me ? They can't send me to jail for carrying a letter, seeing there was no treason in it ; 58 LOVE IK A VILLAGE. [ACT Iff. and how was I obligated to know my master did not allow of their meetings ? The worst they can do is to turn me off, and 1 am sure the place is no such great purchase indeed, I should be sorry to leave Mrs Rosetta, seeing as how matters are so near being brought to an end betwixt us ; but she and I may keep company all as one ; and I find Madge has been speaking with Gatiisr Broadwheels, the waggoner, about her carriage up to London : so that I havo- got rid of she ; and I am sure I have reason to 6e main glad of it, for she led wie a wearisome life But that' the way of them all. AiK XXX vr. A plague on those "wenches, they make such a pother, When once they have lei'n a man have his ivill ; They're ahuays a whining for something or other^ And cry he^s unkind in his carriage. What thoyhe speaks them ne'er so fairly, StUl they keep teazing, teuzing on : You cannot persuade *em ; Till promise you*ve made 'em ; And after they've got it, They tell you add rot it, Their character's blasted, they're ritin'd, undone s And then to he sure, sir. There is but one cure, sir. And all their discourse is of marriage. SCENE II. A Grcen'^ouse, Enter Young Meadows. Y. Mead, I am glad I had the precaution to bring this suit of clothes in my bundle, though I hardly SCENE 11.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 59 inow myself in them again, they appear so strange, and feel so unwieldy. However, my gardener's jacket goes on no more. I wonder this girl does not come~ {_LooMng at his Watch.'] Perhaps she won't come Av hy, then, I'll go into the village, take a post-chaise, ami depart without any farther ceremony. AIR XXXVII. JIciv much superior beauty aweSy I'he coldest bosoms Jind : But mth resistless force it draivs. To sense and stveefness joined. The casket, uhere, to outward shotv, The ivorhman's art is seen. Is doubly valued, tvfien xve knota Jt holds a gem xcithin. Hark^! she comes. FAiter Sir William Meadows a Come, be a dear good-natured pappy. And I'll reward you xvith a kiss. SCENE III.] LOVE IN A VILLAGE. 67 Mrs Deb. Come, turn out of the house, and be thankful my brother does not hang you, for he could do it he's a justice of peace : turn pyt of the house I say J. Wood. Who gave you authority to turn him out of the house ? he shall stay where he is. Mrs Deb. He sha'n*t marry my niece. ' J. Wood. Sha'n't he ? but I'll show you the dif- ference now ; I say, he shall marry her, and what will you do about it I Mrs Deb. And you will give him your estate too, will you ? J. Wood. Yes, I will. Mrs Deb. Why, I'm sure he*s a vagabond. J. Wood. I like him the better, I would have him a vagabond. Mrs Deb. Brother, brother ! Hatoth. Come, come, madam, all's very well, and I see my neighbour is, what I always thought him, a man of sense and prudence. Sir Will. May I never do an ill turn, but I say so too. J. Wood. Here, young fellow, take my daughter, and bless you both together ; but hark you, no money till I die; observe that. Eust. Sir, in giving me your daughter, you bestow^ Hpon me more than the wliole world would be with- out her. Hawth. Adds me, sir, hei'e are some of your neigh- bours come to visit you, and I suppose to make up the company of your statute ball ; yonder's music too, I see ; shall we enjoy ourselves ? If so, give me your hand, J. Wood. W^hy, here's my hand, and we will enjoy ourselves ; Heaven bless you both, children, I say Sister Deborah, you are a fool. Mrs Deb. You are a fool, brother ; and mark my 68 LOVE IN A VILLAGE. [ACT III. words But I'll give myself no more trouble about you. Hatjotk. Fiddlers, strike up. AIR XLI. Hence ivith cares^ complaints, andjrffumingf Welcome jollity and joy ; Ev*ry grief in pleasure drotoningy Mirth this happy night employ : Jjefs tojriendship do our duty, \ Laugh and sing some good old strain ; Drink a health to love and beauty May they long in triumph reign, [Exeunt. THE END* EoiMiUKGH Printed by James Ballantyne & Coi d^ LOVE MAKES A MAN ; OR, THE FOP'S FORTUNE. A COMEDY, in five acts ; ,: By COLLEY gibber, Esq. AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, CO VENT GARDEN. phiSted under the authority of the managers from the prompt book. / WITH REMARKS BY MRS INCHBALD, LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AN1> BROWN, PATERNOSTEB-ROW. Edinburgh: Printed by James Ballantyne and Co. REMARKS. Many a comedy, where the scene Is placed in Spain, owes its success to the splendid fashion of Spanish dresses, to the bustling spirit of hide and seek in chamber-maids and valets, or to the paroxysms of frantic jealousy between lovers. The present comedy has claim to public favour upon superior advantages. Here is a good fable, va- riety of occurrence, and, above all, some excellently drawn characters. The English, in bringing Spaniards upon the stage, have always given them a great deal to do, and scarcely any thing to say ; at least all they have said has generally amounted to nothing. But in " Love makes a Man/' the dramatis personae talk as well as act, and speak to a right purpose. That there should be mind, as well as manners, attached to the characters of this play, will no longer appear extraordinary, when it is considered that the production owes its origin to Beaumont and Fletcher. A third author, of no mean repute, exerted his skill in uniting atid adorning the ancient foundation of this work, (the dramas of " The Elder Brother" * REMARKS. and " The Custom of the Country,") according to the modern taste in 1700 ; and introduced the whole composition to the public under the present title ; with the additional name affixed of Colley Gibber. Whilst many a judicious critic boasted of know- ing what kind of drama the public ought to like, Cib- ber was the lucky dramatist generally to know what they ivould like, whether they ought or not. If he secured their interest, he defied their understanding ; and here, in the following scenes, so far he engages the heart in every event, that the head does not once reflect upon the improbabilities, or even impos- sibilities, with which the senses are delighted. 1*0 atone for incident somewhat too extravagant and surprising, the author has brought on the stage many very rational and most natural personages. The love of learning in the illiterate Don Lewis is a just trait of disposition, though it appears a para- doxical, one and the endovring of a licentious cox- comb, as in Clodio, with fi'ankness and valour, has been an impartial distribution of virtues and vices, which few authors have justice, or rather judgment, enough to bestow upon their copies of mankind. The creatures of a writer's brain are much oftener monsters than men ; for the wicked are seldom more deformed by every ill quality, than the virtuous are out of human shape by every good one ; and thus both parties are equally irregular, in not agreeing with the common order of things. But lest, from this observation, Carlos should be liable to objection, from his wisdom and goodness. REMARKS. 5 it is proper to allow, that in him, perfection has been so naturally accounted for by the poet, in the de- scription of his youth and passion for study, that he appears like one whom temptations have yet never reached, rather than like that supernatural being, who can always be proof against them. Thisyoungstudent, just from college, argues, rea- sons, and even preaches without either cant or affec- tation ; and the long lessons which he gives to Louisa in the fourth act, are so many short sermons ad- dressed to all females ; which, combined with Louisa's character, will infallibly teach them ^that, though love may sometimes make a man, too frequently it undoes a woman. a2 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. The Governor Mr Creswdl. Don Dhart Mr Claremoni. Don Antonio Mr Blanchard. Don Charino Mr Bennett. Don Lewis Mr Mitnden. Carlos Mr C. Kemble. Clodio Mr Lewis. Priest Mr Davenport. Lawyer Mr Atkins. Manuel Mr Chapman. Officers Messrs King and Lee. Page , Master P. Benson. Cook Mr Harley. ISIDOR Mr T. Blanchard. Giuseppe Mr Sarjant. Sancho Mr Farley. Monsieur Mr Klanerl. Jaques Mr Beverly. Pedro Mr Jefferies. GuSMAN Mr Abbot. Bravos iWcssr^ Truman, L. Bologna, Goodwin, Lewiss. Sailors Messrs Wilde and Pollers. Angelin . Miss Brunt on. Elvira Mrs Humphries. Louisa Mrs Litchjield. Honoris Miss IFaddy, Isabel) Miss Cox, LOVE MAKES A MAN. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. A Hall. Enter Antonio and Charino. Ant. Without compliment, my old friend, I sliaU think myself much honoured in your alliance. Cha. Sir, you offer fair and nobly ; but since I have but one girl in the world, you won't think me a troublesome old fool, if I endeavour to bestow her to her worth ; therefore, if youplease, before we shake hands, a word or two by the bye ; for I have some considerable questions to ask you. Ant. Ask them. Cha. Well, in the first place, you say you have two sons ? Ant. Exactly. Cha. And you are willing that onfi of them shall marry my daughter Angelina ? Ant. Willing. Cha. And you are likewise content that the said Angelina shall survey them both, and (with my al- lowance) lake to her lawful husband which of them she pleases i 8 LOVE MAKES A MAN. ' [aCT I. Ant. Content. Cha. And you farther promise that the person by her and me so chosen, be it elder or younger, shall be your sole heir ; that is to say, shall be in a condi- tional possession of at least three parts of your estate. This you positively promise Ant. To perform. Cha. Why then, as the last token of my full con- sent and approbation, I give you my hand. Ant. There's mine. Cha. Is't a match ? Ant. A match. Cha. That's enough Carlos, the elder, you say, is a great scholar, spends his whole life in the univer- sity, and loves his study ? Ant. Nothing more, sir. Cha. But Clodio, the younger, has seen the world, and is very well known in the court of France ; a sprightly fellow, ha ? Ant. Mettle to the back, sir. Cha. Well, how far either of them may go with my daughter, I can't tell ; she'll be easily pleased where I am [ATmoc^'wo-.] Hark ! what noise without ? Ant. Odso ! 'lis they they're come 1 have expected them these two hours. Well, sirrah, who's without i Enter a Servant. Serv. *Tis Sancho, sir, with a waggon-load of my roaster's books. Cha. What, does he always travel with his whole study ? Ant. Never without them, sir ; 'tis his humour. Enter Sancho, hden mth Booh. San. Pedro, unload part of the librairy ; bid the SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 9 porter open the great gates, and make room for t'other dozen of carts ; I'll be with you presently. Ant. Ha ! Sancho ! where's my Carlos ? Speak, boy, where didst thou leave thy master ? San. Jogging on, sir, in the highway to knowledge, both hands employed, in his book, and his bridle, sir ; but he has sent his duty before him in this let- ter, sir. [Gives Antonio the Letter. Cha. Pray, sir, what sort of life may your master lead ? San. Life, sir ! no prince fares like him ; he breaks his fast with Aristotle, dines with Tuliy, drinks tea at Helicon, sups with Seneca, then walks a turn or two in the milky-way, and after six hours conference with the stars, sleeps with old Erra Pater. Cha. Wonderful ! Ant. So, Carlos will be here presently Here, take the knave in, and let him eat. San. And drink too, sir ? Ant. And drink too, sir and pray see your mas- ter's chamber ready. [Knocking again.] Well, sir, who's at the gate ? Enter a Servant. Serv. Monsieur, sir, from my young master, Clodio. Enter Monsieur. Ant. Well, Monsieur, what says your master? when will he be here ? Mons. Sire, he vill be here in de less time dan von quarter of de hour; he is not quite tirty mile off. Ant. And what came you before for I Mons. Sire, me come to provide de pulville, and de essence for his hair, dat he may approche to your vorshipe vid de reverence, and de belie air. Ant. What, is he unprovided then ? Mons. Sire, he vas enrage, and did break his bottel 10 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT I. cl*orangerie, because it vas not de same dat is prepare for Monseigneur le Dauphin. Atit. Well, sir, if you'll go to the butler, he*ll help you to some oil for his hair. Moris. Sire, me tank you. [Exit Monsieur. Cha. A very notable spark, this Clodio. Ha ! what noise is that without ? Enter a Servant. Serv. Sir, my young masters are both come. Ant Tliat's well ! Now, sir, now ! now observe their several dispositions. Enter Carlos. Car. My father ! sir, your blessing. Ant. Thou hast it, Carlos ; and now, pray know this gentleman, Charino, sir, my old friend, and one in whom a ou may have a particular interest. Car. 1*11 study to deserve his love, sir. Cha. Sir, as for that matter, you need not study at all. [They salute. Clo. [Within.] Hey ! La Valiere ' bid the groom take care our hunters be well rubbed and clothed ; they're hot, and have outstripped the wind. Cha, Ay, marry, sir, there's mettle in this young fellov/. Enter Clodio. Clo. Where's mv father ? Ah, my dear dad ! Ant. Ha, my dear Clody, thou'rt welcome ! Clo. Sir, being my father's friend, 1 am your most obliged, faithful, humble servant. [To Chakino. Cha. Sir, I I I like you. [Eagerly, Clo. Thy hand I'm your eternal friend. Cha. Faith, thou art a pretty-humoured fellow; Clo' Who's that? Pray, sir, who's that? Ant. Your brother, Clody. SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN, 11 Clo. Odso ! I beg his pardon with all my heart Ha ! ha ! ha ! did ever mortal bee such a book-worm ? Brother, how is't ? [Carelesdy. Car. I'm glad you are well, brother. [Reads. Clo. What, dbes he draw his book upon me ? Then I will draw my wit upon him Gad, I'll puzzle him Hark you, brother ; pray, what's r-Latin for a sword-knot ? Car. The Romans wore none, brother. Clo. No ornaments upon their swords, sir ? Car. Oh, yes, several ; conquest, peace, and ho- nour an old unfashionable wear. Clo, Sir, no man in Europe wears a more fashion- able sword than I do ; he cost me fifty louis d'ors in Paris ^There, sir feel him try him, sir. Car. I have no skill, sir. Clo. No skill, sir ! why, this sword would make a coward fight aha I sa, sa ! rip ha ! thei e 1 had him ! {^Fencing* Car. Take heed, you'll cut my clothes, brother. Clo. Cut them ! ha, ha ! no, no, they are cut al" ready, brother, to the grammar rules exactly : Psha ! pr'ythee, man, leave off this college air. Car. No, brother, I think it wholesome, the soil ami situation pleasant. Clo. A put, by Jupiter ! he don't know the air of a gentleman, from the air^ of the country Sir, I mean the air of your clothes; I would have j'ou change your tailor, and drsss a little more en cava- lier : lay by your book, and take out your snuff-box \ cock, and look smart, ha ! Cha. 'Faith, a pretty fellow ! Enter Monsieur. Mons. Sire, here be de several sort of de jassa- mine d'orangerie vidout, if you please to make youy shoice. 12 LOVE MAKES A MAN". [ACT I. Clo. Mum, sir ! I must beg pardon for a moment ; a most important business calls me aside, which I will dispatch \\ ith all imaginable celerity, and return to the repetition of my desire to continue, sir, your most obliged, and faithful humble servant. [^Exit Clodio, hoiKing. Cha. 'Faith, he's a pretty fellow ! Ant. Now, sir, if you pleaee, since we have got the other alone, we'll put the matter a little closer to him. Cha. 'Tis to little purpose, I'm afraid: but use your pleasure, sir. Car. Plato differs from Socrates in this. [To himself. AnU Come, come, pr'ythee, Charles, lay them by, let them agree at leisure. What, no hour of in- terruption ? Car. Man's life, sir, being so short, and then the way that leads us to the knowledge of ourselves, so hard and tedious, each minute should be pre- cious. Ant. Ay, but to thrive in this world, Charles, you must part a little with this bookish contemplation, and prepare yourself for action. If you will study, let it be to know what part of my land's fit for the plough ; what for pasture ; to buy and sell my stock to the best advantage, and cure my cattle when they are over-grown with labour. This, now, would turn to some acqount. Car. This, sir, may be done from what I've read ; for what concerns tillage, who can better deliver it than Virgil in his Georgicks ? And for the cure of herds, his Bucolicks are a master-piece ; but when his art describes the commonwealth of bees, their in- dustry, their order in going forth, and coming laden home, their strict obedience to their king, his just re- wards to such as labour, his punishment inflicted only en the slothful drone ; I'm ravisli'd with it, then reap, SCENE I] LOVE MAKES A MAiT. 13 indeetl, my liarvest, receive the grain my cattle bring me, and there find wax and honey. Ant. Hey-day ! Georges and Blue-sticks, and bees- wax ! What, art thou mad ? Cka. Raving, raving ! Car. No, sir, the knowledge of this guards me from it. Anf. But can you find amongst all your musty ma- nuscripts, what pleasure he enjoys that lies in the arms of a young, rich, well-shaped, healthy bride ? Answer me that, ha, sir ? Car. 'Tis frequent, sir, in story ; there I read of all kinds of virtuous and of vicious women ; the an- cient Spartan dames, the Roman ladies, their beau- ties, their deformities ; and when I light upon a Por- tia, ora Cornelia, crowned with ever-blooming truth and virtue, with such a feeling I peruse their fortunes, as if I then had lived, and tasted of their lawful, en- vied love. ^ But when I meet a Messalina, tired and unsated in her foul desires; a Clytemnestra, bathed in her husband's blood ; an impious Tullia, whirling her chariot over her father's breathless body, horror iiivades my faculties. Comparing, then, the nu- merous guilty with the easy count of those that die in innocence, I detest and loath them as ignorance, or atheism. Atd. And you do resolve, then, not to rnake pay- ment of the debt you ovve me i Car. What debt, good sir ? Ant. Why, the debt I paid my father, when I got you, sir, and made him a grandsire ; which I expect from you. I won't have my name die. , Car. Nor would I ; my laboured studies, sir, may prove in time a living issue. Ant. Very well, sir; and so I shall have a general cnllection of all the quiddits from Adam till this time to be \uy grand-child. B 7 14- XOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT I. CaV' I'll take my best care, sir, that what I leave mayn't shame the family, Cka. A sad fellow, this ! this is a very sad fellow! \_ Aside. Ant. So, ia short, you would not marry an em- press ? Car. Oh, sir ! the closet that contains my chosen books, to me's a glorious court ; can I then part with solid constant pleasures, to clasp uncertain vanities ? No, ?ir, be it your care to sw ell your heap of wealth ; marry my brother, and let him get you bodies of your name ; I rather would inform it with a soul. I tire you, sir your pardon and your leave. Lights there, for my study. [Exit Carlos. Ant. Was ever man thus transported from the common sense of his own happiness ; a stupid wise rogue ! I could beat him. JSow, if it were not for my hopes in young Clody, I might fairly conclude my name were at a period. Cha. Ay, ay, he's the match for my money, and my girl's too, I warrant her. What say you, sir, shall we tell them a piece of our mind ? Ant. This minute, sir; and here comes my young rogue, in the very nick of his fortune. Enter Clodio. Ant. Clody, a word Clo. To the wise is enough. Your pleasure, sir ? Ant. In the mean time, sir, if you please to sen4 your daughter notice of our intended visit. [To Chakinc Chcu I'll do't Hark you, friend [^Whispers a Servant. Enter Sancho behind. San. I doubt my master has found but rough wel- come ; he's gone supperless into his study ; I'd fain know the reason 1 must find it out. [Stands aside. 5 SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAK. 15 Clo. Sir, you could not have started any thing more agreeable to my inclination : and for the young la- dy's, sir, if this old gentleman will please to give me a sight of her, you shall see me whip into her's, in the cutting of a caper. Cha. Well, pursue and conquer ; though let me tell you, sir, my girl has wit, and will give you as good as you bring ;, she has a smart way, sir. Clo. Sir, I will be as smart as she ; I have my share of courage; I fear no woman alive, sir, having always found that love and assurance ought to be as insepa- rable companions, as a beau and a snuff-box, or a curate and a tobacco-stopper. Cha. 'Faith, thou art a pleasant rogue ; I'gad she must like thee. Clo. I know how to tickle the ladies, sir In Paris, I had constantly two challenges every morn- ing came up with my chocolate, only for being plea- sant company the night before with the first ladies of quality. Cha. Ah, silly, envious rogues ! Pr'ytliee what do you do to the ladies ? San. Positively, nothing. [_Aside. Clo. Why, the truth is, I did make the jades drink a little too smartly ; for which the poor dogs, the princes, could not endure me. Cha. Why, hast thoureally conversed with princes? Clo. Conversed with them ! why, you shall judge now, you shall judge Let me see There was I and Prince Grandmont, Duke de Bongrace, Duke de Bellegrade (Bellegrade yes, yes Jack was there) Count de I'Esprit, Marshal Bombard, and that pleasant dog, the Prince de Hautenbas. We six, now, were all at supper, all in good humour ; cham- paigne was the word, and wit flew about the room like a pack of losing cards Now, sir, there hap- pened to be the self-same number of ladies, after the fatigue of a ballet, diverting themselves with ratafia l6 LOVE MAKES A HAK. [ACT !. and the spleen j so dull, thej' were not able to talk, though it were scandalously, even of their best friendsi So, sir, after a profound silence, at liist, one of them gaped Oh, Gad ! says she, would that plea- sant dog, Clody, were here, to badiner a little Hey, says a second, and stretched Ah, mon dieu ! says a third, and waked Could not one find him ? says a fourth and leered Oh, burn him ! says a fifth, I saw him go out with the nasty rakes of the blood again in a pet Did you so, says a sixth ? Pardie I we'll spoil that gang presently in a pas- sion. Whereupon, sir, in two minutes, I received a billet in four words Chien, nous vous demandons ; subscribed Grandmont, Bongrace, Bellegrade, L' Es- prit, Bombard, Hautenbas. Cha. Why, these are the very names of the princes you supped with. ClO' Every soul of them the individual wife or sister of every man in the couipany, split me) ha! ha! ha! Cha. and Ant. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Saw. Did ever two old gudgeons swallow so greed- ily ! \^ Aside, Ant. Well, and didst thou make a night on't, boy ? Clo. Yes, I'gad, and morning too, sir ; for about eight o'clock the next day, slap they all soused upon their knees, kissed round, burned their commodes, drank ray health, broke their glasses, and so parted. Ant. Gad-a-mercy, Clody I Nay, 'twas always a wild young rogue. Cha. I like him the better for't You remember the conditions, sir ; three parts of your estate to him and his heirs ? Ant. Sir, he deserves it all ; 'tis not a trifle shall part them. You see Charles has given over the world: I'll undertake to buy his birth-right for a shelf of new books. Cha, Ay, ay ; get you the writings ready, with, SCENE 1.3 LOVE MAKES A MAN. 17 your other son*s hand to them ; for unless he signs, the conveyance is of no validity. Ant. I know it, sir they shall be ready with his hand in two hours. Cha. Why then, come along, my lad; and now I'll show thee to my daughter. Clo. I dare be shown, sir Allans ! Hey, suivons V amour. \^Sings.~\ [Exeunt all but Sascko. San. How ! my poor master to be disinherited, for Monsieur Sa-sa there ; and I a looker-on too ! If we have studied our majors and our minors, our an- tecedents and consequences, to be concluded cox- combs at last, we have made a fair hand on't ! I'm glad I know of this roguery, however ; I'll take care my master's uncle, old Don Lewis, shall hear of it J for though he can hardly read a proclamation, yet he dotes upon his learning ; and if he be that old, rough, testy blade he used to be, we may chance to have a rubbers with them first Here he comes pqfedo. Enter Don Lewis. Don L. Sancho, where's my boy Charles ? What, h he at it ? Is he at it ? Deep deep, I warrant him Sancho a little peep now one peep at him, through the key-hole I must have a peep. San. Have a care, sir, he's upon a magical point. Don L. What, has he lost any thing ? San. Yes, sir, he has lost with a vengeance ! Don L. But what, what, what, what, sirrah ? what is't ? San. Why, his birth-right, sir ! he is di di dis disinherited. [Sobbing. Don L. Ha ! how ! when ! what ! where ! who ! wliat dost thou mean ? San. His brother, sir, is to marry Angelina, the great heiress, to enjoy three parts of his father's \i2 18 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [aCT I^ estate ; and ray master is to have a whole acre of new- books, for setting his hand to the coneyance. Don L Thb must be a lie, sirrah ; i will have it a lie. San. With all my heart, sir ; but here comes my old master, and tlie pickpocket the lawyer : they'll tell you more. Enter Antonio, and a Lawyer. Ant' Here, sir, this paper has your full instruc- tions : pray be speedy, sir; I don't know but we may couple them to-morrow ; be sure you make it firm. Laix). Do you secure his hand, sir, I defy the lavr to give him his title again. \^Exit. San. What think you now, sir ? Don L. Why, now methinks I'm pleased this is right I'm pleased must cut that lawyer's throat, though must bone him ay, I'll have him boned and potted. Ant. Brother, how is't ? Don L. Oh, mighty well mighty well let's feel your pulse Feverish [Looks earnestly in Antonio's /7ce, and after some pause, whistles a piece of a J'une, Ant. You are merry, brother. Don. L. It's a lie. Ant. How, brother ? Don L. A damn'd lie I am not merry. [Smiling, Ant. What are you, then i Don L. Very angry. Ant. Hi ! hi ! hi ! at what, brother ? [ Mimicking him, Don L. Why, at a very wise settlement 1 have made lately. Ant. What settlement, good brother ? I find he has heard of it, [^Aside. SCENE 1.} LOVE MAKES A MAIT. ly Don L. What do you think I have done ? 1 have this deep head of mine has disinherited my eldest son, because his understanding's an honour to my family, and given it all to my younger, because he's a puppy ^a puppy. Ant. Come, 1 guess at your meaning, brother. Don L. Do you so, sir ? Why, then, I must tell you, flat and plain, my boy Charles must and shall inherit it. Ant. I say no, unless Charles had a soul to value his fortune Hark you, brother, do you know what learning is ? Don L. What if I don't,*sir, I believe it's a fine thing, and that's enough Though I can speak no Greek, I love and honour the sound of it, and Charles speaks it loftily ; I'gad, he thunders it out, sir : and let me tell you, sir, if you had ever the grace to have heard but six lines of Hesiod, or Homer, or Iliad, or anyof the Greek poets, ods-heart ! it would have made your hair stand an end ; sir, he has read such things in my hearing Ant. But did you understand them, brother ? Don L. 1 tell you, no. What does that signify ? The very sound's sufficient comfort to an honest man. Ajit. Fie, fie ! 1 wonder you talk so, you that are old, and should understand. Don L. Should, sir ! Yes, and do, sir. Sir, I'd have you to know, I have studied, I have run over history, poetry, philosophy. Ant. Yes, like a cat over a harpsichord, rare mu- sic You have read catalogues, I believe. Come, come, brother, my younger boy is a fine gentleman. Don L. A sad dog I'll buy a prettier fellow in a penny-worth of gingerbread. Aiit. What I propose, I'll do, sir, say you your pleasure Here comes one I must talk with V\ ell, brother, what news ? 20 LOVE MAKES A MAK. [ACT I. Enter Charino. Cha. Oh, to our wishes, sir; Clody's a right bait for a girl, sir. Noble Don Lewis, I am your humble servant. Come, what say you ? Shall I prevail with you to settle some part of your estate upon young Clody? - Don L.CloAyl Cha. Ay, your nephew, Clody. Don L. Settle upon him ! Cha. Ay. Don L. Why, look you, I ha'nt much land to spare ; but I have an admirable horse-pond I'll settle that upon him, if you will. Ant. Come, let him have his way, sir, he's old and hasty ; my estate's sufficient. How does ytiur daugh- ter, sir ? Cha. Ripe and ready, sir ; get you the writings ready, ray girl shall be here in the morning. Don L. Hark you, sir, do you suppose my Charles shall Cha. Sir, I suppose nothing; what I'll do, I'll jus- tify ; what your brother does, let him answer. Ant. That I have already, sir, and so good- morrow to your patience, brother. [^Exeunt Ant. and Cha. Don L. Sancho ! San. Sir! Don L. Fetch me some gunpowder quick quick, San. Sir! Don L. Some gunpowder, I say a barrel quickly and d'ye hear, three penny-worth of rats- bane Hey 1 ay, I'll blow up one, and poison the other. San. Come, sir, I see what you would be at, and if you dare take my advice, (I don't want wit at a pinch, sir) e'en let me try, if I can fire my master enough with the praises of the young lady, to make him rival his brother ; that would blow them up in- deed, sir. ACT Hi] LOVE MAKES A MAJTi 2t Dan L. Psha ! impossible, he never spoke six words to any woman in his life, but his bed-maker. San. So much the better, sir ; therefore, if he speaks at all, it's the more likely to be out of the road. Hark, he rings 1 must wait upon him. [Exit Don L. 1 can't look my poor boy in the face : but come, Charles, let them go on, thou shalt not want money to buy thee books yet That old fool thy father, and his young puppy, shall not share a groat of mine between them ; nay, to plague them, I could fend in my heart to fall sick in a pet, give thee ray estate in a passion, and leave the world in a fury. lExiL ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. A Hall, Enter Antonio and Sancho. Ant. Sir, he shall have what's fit for hira. San. No inheritance, sir? Ant. Enough to give him books, and a moderate maintenance : that's as much as he cares for ; yon talk like a fool, a coxcomb ! trouble him with land San. Must master Clodio have all, sir : Ant. All, ail ; he knows how to use it : he's a man bred in this world : t'other in the skies, his business is altogether above stairs : [_Bell rmgs.] go, see what he wants. San. A father, I'm sure ! {_Exit Sancho. Ant. What, will none of my rogues come near mft now i Oh, here they are. 22 roVE MAKES ^ MAN. [ACT II, Enter Three Servants und the Cook. Well, sir, in the first place, can you procure me a plentiful dinner for about fifty, within two hours? Your young master is to be married this morning; will that spur you, sir ? Cook. Young master, sir ! I wish your honour Iiad given me a little more warning. Ant. Sir, you have as much as I had : I was not sure of it half an hour ago. Cook. Sir, I will try what I can do Hey, Pedro! Gusraan ! Come, stir, ho ! {^Exit Cook. Ant. Butler, open the cellar to all good fellows; if any man offers to sneak away sober, knock him down. \_Exeuni,^ SCEN II. A Library* Carlos alone* A Noise of Chopping uoithin. Car. What a perpetual noise these people make ! I have forgot to eat and sleep, with reading ; all ray faculties turn into study. What a misfortune 'tis ia human nature, that the body will not live on that which feeds the mind ! How unprofitable a plea- sure is eating 1 Sancho ! Enter Sancho. San. Did you call, sir ? {^Chopping again. Car. Pr'ythee, what noise is this ? San, The cooks are hard at work, sir, chopping herbs, and mincing meat, and breaking marro\7> bones. SCENE II.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 2^ Car. And is it thus at every dinner ? San. No, sir ; but we have high doings to-day. Car. Well, set'^this folio in its place again ; thei^ make me a little fire, and get a manchet ; I'll dine alone Does my younger brother speak any Greek yet, Sancho ? San. No, sir, but he spits French like a magpye, and that's more in fixshion. Car. He steps before me there ; I think I read it well enough to understand it, but when I am to give it utterance, it quarrels with my tongue. Again that Koise ! Pr'ythee tell rae^ Sancho, are there any princes to dine hi^re ? San. Some there are as happy as princes, sir your brother's married to-day all the country round K invited, not a dog that knows the house, but comes too : all open, sir. Car. Pr'ythee, who is it my brother marries } San. Old Charino's daughter, sir, the great heiress : 3 delicate creature ; young, soft, smooth, fair, plump, and ripe as a cherry ! Car. Is she so fine a creature ? San. Such eyes ; such looks ; such a pair of pretty plump pouting lips ; such softness in her voice ; such Hiusic too ; and when she smiles, such roguish dim- ples in her cheeks ; such a clear skin ; white neck, and a little lower, such a pair of round, hard, l^eav- ing, what d'ye call-ums ah ! Car. Why, thou art in love, Sancho. San. Ay, so would you be, if you saw her, sir. Car. I don't think so. San. Ods me ! sir, sir, here comes the very lady, the bride, your sister that must be, and her father. Enter Charino and Angelina. Stand close, you'll both see and hear, sir. Car. I ne'er saw any yet so fair ; such sweetness in her look ; such modesty ! If v/e may think the eye boy ; 'faith she is a good-humoured creature, she'll take it kindly. Car. Do you think so, uncle ? Don L. I'll to her, and tell you. 98 tbVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT 11. Car. Do, sir Stay, uncle ; will she not think me rude ? I would not for the world offend her. Don L. 'Fend a fiddle-stick let me alone I'll I'll Cur. Nay, but, sir ! dear uncle ! Don L, A hum ! a hum ! \_Exit Don Lewis. Enter Antonio and the Lawyer, voith a Writing. Ant. Where's my son ? San. There, sir, casting a figure what chopping children his brother shall have, and where he shall find a new father for himself. Ant. I shall find a stick for you, rogue, I shall. CharleSj how dost thou do ? Come hither, boy. CaV' Your pleasure, sir ? Ant. Nay, no great matter, child, only to put your name here a little, to this bit of parchment : I think you write a reasonable good hand, Charles. Car. Pray, sir, to what use may it be ? Ant. Only to pass your title in the land I hare to . your brother Clodio. Car. Is it no more, sir ? Lavs. That's all, sir. Ant. No, no, 'tis nothing else ; look you, you shall be provided for, you shall have what books you please, and your means shall come in without your oare, and you shall always have a servant to wait on you. Car. Sir, I thank you ; but if you please, I had ra- ther sign it before the good cpmpauy below; it be- ing, sir, so frank a gift, 'twill be some small compli- ment to have done it before the lady too : there I shall sign it cheerfully, and wish my brother fortune. Ant. With all my heart, child ; it's the same thing to me. Car. You'll excuse me, sir, if I make no great stay with you. SCENE IV.] LOVE MAKES A MAN.* 29 Ant. Do as thou wilt, thou shalt do any thing thou hast a mind to. [Exeunt. San. Now has he undone himself for ever ; ods- heart, I'll down into the cellar, and be stark drunk for anger. " [Exit, SCENE IV. A Dining-Room, A large Table spread* Enter Charing, uoith Angelina, Clodio, Don Lewis, Ladies, and Pkiest. Cha. Come, let him bring his son's hand, and all's done. Are you ready, sir ? Priest. Sir, I shall dispatch them presently, imme- diately ; for in truth I am an hungry. Clo. I'gad, I warrant you, the priest and I could both fall to without saying grace Ha, you little rogue ! what, you think it long too ? Ang. I find no fault, sir; better things were well done than done too hastily- Sir, you look melan- choly. [To Don Lewis. Don L. Sweet-smelling blossom ! All, that I had the gathering of thee ; I would stick thee in the bo- som of a pretty young fellow -Ah, thou hast miss- ed a man (but that he is so bewitched to his study, and knows no other mistress than his mind) so far above this feather-headed puppy Ang. Can he talk, sir ? Don L. Like an angel to himself the de- vil a word to a woman, Ang. But a little conversation, methinks Don L. Why, so I think too ; but the boy's be- c2 bo LOVE MAKES A MAIT. [aCT II. mtched, and the devil can't bring him to't : shall I try if I can get him to wish you joy ? Ang. I shall receive it as becomes his sister, sir. Clo. Look, look, old Testy will fait in love by and by ; he's hard at it, split me ! Cha. Let him alone, she'll fetch him about, I war- rant you. Clo. So, here my father coriies ! Hey, my brother too ! that's a wonder ; broke like a spirit from hi eell. Enter Antonio, Carlos, and the Lawyer. Don L. Odso ! here he is ; that's he : a little in- chning to the lean, or so, but his understanding's the fatter for't. Attt- Come, Charles, 'twas your desire to see hiy fair daughter and the good company, and to seal be- fore them all, and give your brother joy. Cha. He does well ; 1 shall think the better of him as long as I live. Car. Is this the lady, sir ? Ant. Ay, that's your sister, Charles. Car. Forbid it, love ! [Asides] Do you not think she'll grace our family ? Ant. No doubt on't, sir. Car. Should 1 not thank her for so unmerited a grace ? Ant. Ay, and welcome, Charles. Don L. Now, my boy ; give her a gentle twist by the finger ; lay your lips softly, softly, close and plump to her. \_ Apart to Carlos, Car. Pardon a stranger's freedom, lady ^Salutes Angelina.] Dissolving softness ! Oh, the drowning joy ! Happy, happy he that sips eternally such nec- tar down But you, fair creature, share by far the higher joy; if, as I've read, (nay, now am sure) the sole delight of love lies only in the power to give. Ang. iiownear his thoughts agree with mine! this SCENE IV.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 31 the mere scholar I was told of! [Aside.] 1 find, sir, you have experienced love, you seem acquainted with the passion ? Car. I've had, indeed, a dead pale glimpse in the- ory, but never saw the enlivening light before. Ang. Ha, before ! [Aside. Ant. Well, these are very fine compliments, Charles; but you say nothing to your brother yet. Car. Oh, yes, and wish him, sir, with any other beauty, (if possible) more lasting joy than I could taste with her. Ang. He speaks unhappily. Clo. Ha ! what do you say, brother ? Ant. Nay, for my part, I don't understand him. Cka. Nor I. Don L. Stand clear, I do and that sweet creature too, I hope. Ang. Too well, I fear. Aitt. Come, come, to the writing, Charles ; pr'y- thee leave thy studying, man. Car. I'll leave my life first ; I study now to be a man ; before, what man was, was but my argument ; 1 am now on the proof: I find, I feel myself a man Don L. He has it ! he has it ! my boy's in for't. Clo. Come, come, will you Don L. Stand out of the way, puppy. [^Interposing tvith his Back to Clodio. Car. Whence is it, fair, that while I offer speech to you, my thoughts want words, my words their free and honest utterance ? Why is it thus I tremble at your touch, and fear your frown ? Yet should my dearest friend or brother dare to check my vain de- luded wishes, Oh, I should turn and tear him like an offended lion. Clo. Come, come, will you sign, brother ? Don L. Time enough, puppy. Clo. I say, will you sign, brothei" ? S2 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT II. Car. Away, I have no time for trifles ! Room for an elder brother. Don L. Why, did not I bid thee stand out of the tray now ? Ant. Ay, but this is trifling, Charles ! Come, come, your hand, man. Car. Your pardon, sir, I cannot seal yet ; had you only showed me land, I had resigned it free, and proud to have bestowed it to your pleasure ; but you have opened to me such a treasure, such unimagined mines of solid joy, that I perceive my temper stubborn now, even to a churlish avarice of love. Ant. And so you won't part with your title, sir ? Car. Sooner with my soul of reason, be a plant, a beast, a fish, a fly, than yield one foot of land if she be tied to't. Don L. Ah, Charles ! Wliat say you to the scho- lar now, chicken ? Ang. A wonder ! Is this gentleman your bro- ther, sir? |_7b Clodio. Clo. Hey! no, my Madam, not quite that is, he is a little akin by the Plague on him, would he were bury'd 1 can't tell what to say to him, split me ! Ant. Positively, you will not seal then, ha ? Car. Neither 1 should not blindly say I will not seal Let me entreat a moment's pause for, even yet, perhaps I may. ^Sighing. Ang. Forbid it, Fortune ! Ant. O, may you so, sir ? Clo. Ay, sir, hey ! What, you are come to yourself I find, 'sheart ! Cha. Ay, ay, give him a little time, he'll think bet- ter on't, I warrant you. Car. Perhaps, fair creature, I have done you wrong, whose plighted love and hope went hand in hand to- gether ; but I conjure you, think my life were hate- tul, after so base, so barbarous an act as parting them : SCENE IV.] LOVE MAKES A MAK. 83 I have no land, no fortune, life, or being, while your necessity of peace requires them. Cha. VVhy, ay ! there's some civility in this. Clo. The fellow really talks very prettily. Car, But, if in bare compliance to a father's will, you now but suffer marriage, or what's worse, give it as an extorted bond, imposed on the simplicity of your youth, and dare confess you wish some honest friend would save, or free you from its hard conditions, I then again have land, have life, and resolution, wait- ing still upon your happier fortune. Clo. Ha, ha ! pert enough, that I'gad, I long to see what this will come to ! Priest. In truth, unless somebody is married pre- sently, the dinner will be spoiled, and then no- LMy will be able to eat it. Car. Consider, fair one, now* s the very crisis of our fate : you cannot have it sure to ask, if honour be the parent of my love : If you can love for love, and think your heart rewarded there Aug, Need I then speak ? to say I am far from hating you I would say more, but there is nothing fit for me to say. Cha. I'll bear it no longer Ang. On this you may depend, I cannot like that marriage was proposed me. Car. How shall my soul requite this goodness ? Cha. Beyond patience! this is downright inso- lence ! roguery ! villainy ! treachery ! part them ! Ang. Part them ! Clo. Ay, ay, part them ! part them ! J)on L. Doll ! dum ! dum ! [Sfg5, and dratvs in their Defence. Cha. Call an officer ! I'll have them forced asun- der. Ang. Nayj then I m reduced to take protection here. [Goes to Carlos; Car, O ecstacy of heart ! transporting joy^! 34- LOVE MAKES A MAN. [aCT U. Don L. Lorro ! Dorrol ! Loll ! [Sings and dances. Cha. A plot ! a plot ! against my honour ! Mur- der ! Treason ! Gunpowder ! I'll be revenged. [Exit. Ant. Carlos, I say, forego the lady. Car. Never, while I have sense of being, life, or motion. Clo. You won't ? Gadso ! What, then I find I must lug out upon this business ! Allans ! the lady, sir ! Don L. Lorro ! Dorro ! Loll ! [^Presenting his Point to Clodio. Car. Hold, uncle ! come, brother ! sheathe your an- ger I'll do my best to satisfy you all but first I would entreat a blessing here. Ant. Out of my doors, thou art no son of mine. [Exit Antonio. Car. I am sorry I have lost a father, sir For you, brother, since once you had a seeming hope, in lieu of what you've lost, half of my birthright Clo. No halves ! no halves, sir ! the whole lady ! Car. Why, then, the whole, if you can like the terms. Clo. What terms? What terms? Come, quick, quick. Car. The first is this [Snatches Don Lewis's Srvord.] Win her, and wear her; for, on my soul, un- less my body tail, my mind shall never yield thee up a thought in love. Don L. Gramercy, Charles ! to him, boy ; I'gad, this love has made a man of him. Car. This is the first good sword I ever poised in anger yet ; 'tis sharp, I'm sure ; if it but hold my putting home, I shall so hunt your insolence ! 1 feel the fire of ten strong spirits in me : wert thou a native fencer, in so fair a cause, 1 thus should hold thee at the worst defiance. Clo. Look you, brother, take care of yourself, I shall certainly be in you the first thrust ; but if you SCENE IV.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. ^ 35 had rather, d'ye see, we'll talk a little calmly about this business. Car. Away, trifler ! I would be loth to prove thee a coward too. Clo. Coward! why then really, sir, if you please, midriff's the word, brother; you are a son oi a whore AUons ! [ They fight, and Clodio is disirmed. Car. There, sir, take your life and mend it. Ang. Are you wounded, sir ? Car. Only in ray fears for you ; how shall we be- stow us, uncle ? Don L. Positively, we are not safe here, this lady being an heiress. Follow me. Car. Good angels guard us ! [^Exeunt iviih Angelina. Clo. Gadso ! I never fenced so ill in all my life never in my life, split me ! Enter Monsieur. Mans. Sire, here be de trompete, de haute-boy, de musique, de maiter danser, dat deseer to know if you sal be please to have de masque begin. Clo. Ha ! what does this puppy say now ? Mans. Sire, de musique. Clo. Why ay that's true ^but tell them ^plague on them, tell them they are not ready tuned. Mons. Sire, dare is all tune, all prepare. Clo. Ay ! Why then, tell them that ray brother's wise again, and has spoiled all, and I am bubbled, and so I sha'n't be married till next time : but I have fought with him, and he has disarmed me ; and so he won't release the land, nor give me my mistress again ; and I 1 am done, that's all. [^Exeunt, Enter Ciiarino, Antonio, Officers, and Ser- vants. Cha. Officer, do your duty : I say, seize them all. Ant. Carry them this minute before a How now ! What all fled ? 36 tOvB MAKES A MAN. [ACT W, Cha, Ha ! my girl ! my child, my heiress ! I am ^bueed ! I am cheated ! I am robbed ! I am ravished ! murdered ! and flung in a ditch. 4nt. Who let them out i Which way went they, villains ? Serv. Sir, we had np order to stop them ; but they went out at the door not six minutes ago. Cha. I'll pursue them with bills, warrants, actions, writs, and malice : I am a lawyer;^ sir ; they shall find 1 understand ruin. Ant. Nay, they shall be found, sir : run you to the port, sirrah, see if any ships are going off, and bring us nptice immediately. [^Exeunt Officers and Servants. ""Enter Sancho, drunk, San, Ban, ban, Cac-caliban. [Sings. Ant. Here comes a rogue, I'll warrant, knows the l^ottom of all ! Where's my son, villain ? San, Son, sir ! Cha. Where's my daughter, sirrah > San, Daughter, ir ? Cha. Ay, my daughter, rascal ! San, Why, sir, they told me just now, sir that she's she's run away. Ant. Dog, where's your master ? - San. My master ? why, they say he is Ant. Where, sirrah ? San. Why, he is rhe is gone along with her, Ai^i. Death ! you dog, discover him, or San. Sir, I will I will. Ant* Where is he, villain ? Sari. Where, sir ? Why, to be sure he is he is Upon my soul, I don?t know, sir. Ant. No more trifling, rascal ! San. If I do, sir, i wish this may be my poison. [I)rinh^ Ant. Death ! you dog, get out of my house, -or I'll r- So, sir, have you found him i SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 37 Re-enter the Servant hastily ^ Clodio, one? Mon- sieur. Clo, Ay, sir, have you found them ? Serv. Yes, sir, I had a sight of them ; but they were just got on board a small vessel before I could overtake them. Cha. Death and furies ! Ant, Whither were they bound, sirrah ? Serv. Sir, I could not discover that : but they were full before die wind, with a very smart gale. Ant. What shall we do, brother ? Clo. Be as smart as they, sir ; follow them, follow therii. Cha. Send to the port this moment, and secure a ship ; I'll pursue them through all the element*. Clo. I'll follow you by the nortJiern star. A}it. Run to the port again, rogue ; hire a ship, and tell them they must hoist sail immediately. [^Exit Servant. Clo. And you, rogue, run to ray chamber, fill up my snuff-box Cram it hard, you dog, and be here again before you get thither. \^Exit Monsieur. A7it. What, will you take nothing else, boy ? Clo. Nothing, sir, but snuff and opportunity we're in haste. Allans I hey ! Je vole. {Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Lisbon. Enter Elvira, Don Duart, and Governor. Elv. Dear brother, let me entreat you, stay ; why v.'ill you provoke your danger i mS- iB8 LOVE MAKES A MAN. fACT III. Don D. Madam, my lionour must be satisfied. Eh. That's done already, by the degrading blow you gave him. Gov. Pray, niece, what is it has incensed him ? Elv. Nothing but a needless quarrel. Gov. I am sorry for him To whom is all this fury, nephew ? Don D. To you, sir, or any man that dares op- pose me. Gov. Come, you are too boisterous, sir ; and this vain Opinion of your courage, taken on your late success in duelling, makes you daily shunned by men of civil conversation. For shame, leave off these senseless brawls ; if you are valiant, as you would be thought, turn out your courage to the wars ; let your king and country be the better for't. Don D. Yes, so I- might be general Sir, no man living shall command me. Gov. Sir, you shall find that here in Lisbon I will : I*m every hour followed with complaints of your be- haviour from men of almost all conditions; and my authority, which you presume will bear you out, be- cause you are my nephew, no longer shall protect you now ; expect your next disorder to be punished with as much severity as his that is a stranger to my blood. ^ Don D- Punish me ! You, nor your office, dare not do't. Fire and furies ! I'm tutor'd here like a mere school-boy ! Women shall judge of injuries in honour ! For you, sir 1 was born free, and will not curb my spirit, nor is it for your authority to tempt it : give me the usage of a man of honour, or 'tis not your government shall protect you. [Exit. Gov. I am sorry to see this, niece, for your sake. Elv, 'Would he were not my brother! ^Exeunt. SCENE II.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 39 SCENE II. A Street. Enter Don Manuel, Angelina, and Sailors. Don M. Divide the spoil amongst you : this fair captive I only- challenge for myself. Sail. Sir, she's yours; you fought, and well de- serre her. - [xeM^SAILORs. Enter Governor. Gov. Noble Don Manuel ! welcome to Lisbon ! I see you are fortunate : for I presume that's some un- common prize. Don M. She is, indeed, lord governor : These tea years I have known the seas, and many rough en- gagements there ; but never saw so small a bark so long defended with such incredible valour, and by two men scarce armed too. Gov. Is't possible ? Don M. Nay, and scarce had we secured our hard- won-prize, before an Algerine grappled us; when the same two, dreading to see this lovely creature made a prize to infidels, 'gallantly boarded her ; but instant- ly Ang. Alas ! Gov. What then, sir ? Don M. She quitted us, and, crowding all the sail she could, escaped our slower vessel. Gov. And carried those brave gentlemen away Don M. No, my lord ; for as they stood upon the deck disarmed and ready to be fettered, on a sudden (the younger taking first from this fair maid a fare- well only with his eyes) both leaped into the sea 4-0 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT Illf. Gov. *Tis wonderful, indeed ! Don M. Had not our own safety hindered, (at that time another ship pursuing us) I would have ta'en thera up, and with their lives they should have had their liberty. Zing. T 00 late, alas ! they're lost ! 1 am now friendless, miserable, and a slave. Don M. Take comfort, fair one, perhaps you yet again may see them : they were not quite a league from shore, and with such strength and courage broke through the rolling waves, they could not fail of H'e and safety. Am. In that last hope I brook a wretched being: but, if they're dead, my woes will find so many doors to let out life, I shall not long survive them, but Gov. Alas, poor lady ! Misery but weeps the more when she is gazed on I leave you your servant, sir. \^Exit GovERNon. Don M. Now, my fair captive, though I confess you beautiful, yet give me leaye to own my heart has long been in another's keeping : therefore the favour I am about to ask, you may at least hear with safety. Ang. 1 his-' has engaged me, sir, to hear. Do7i M. These three years have I honourably loved a noble lady ; her name Louisa, the beauteous niece of great Ferrara's Duke: sole mistress of her- self and ^me, who long have languished in a hopeless cunsrsncy. Now, I would a while entreat your leave to recommend you, as her companion, to this lady's favour ; and, (as I'm sure you'll soon be near her clo- sest thoughts) if you can think upon the honest cour- tesies I hitherto have shown your modesty, and, in your happy talk, but name, with any mark of favour, me, or my unwearied love, 'twould be a generous act would fix me ever grateful to its memory. Ang. Such poor assistance, sir, as one distressed like me can give, shall willingly be paid. Don M. I'll study to deserve this goodness : for SCENE in.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 41 the present, think my poor house your own ; at night I'll wait upon you to the lady, till when, I am your guard. Ang. You have bound me to your service. [Exeunt Don Manuel and Angelina. SCENE III. A Church. The Vespers supposed to be just ended, several lualking out, Carlos and Don Lewis risi7ig near Louisa and HoNORiA. Louisa observing Carlos. Hon. Come, madam, shall we walk out? The crowd's pretty well over now. Lou. But then that melancholy softness in his look ! [To herself, Hon. Cousin ! Donna Louisa ! Lou. Even in his devotions too, such graceful ado- rations so sweet a Hon. Cousin, will you go ? Lou. Pshaw ! time enough Pr'ythee let's walk a little this way. [The^ walk from Don Lewis and Carlos. Car. To what are we reserved ? Don L. For no good, I'm afraid My ill luck don't use to give over when her hand's in One mis- fortune generally comes galloping in upon the back of another Drowning we have escaped miracu- lously; 'would the fear of hanging were over too; our being so strangely saved from one, smells damna- bly rank of the other. Though I am obliged to thee, Charles, for what life I have, and I'll thank thee for't, if ever I set foot upon my estate again : 'faith, I was just gone; if thou hadst not taken me upon thy back P2 42 LOVE MAKES A MAK. [aCT II I. the last hundred yards, by this time I had been food for herrings and mackerel But 'tis pretty well as it is ; for there is not much difference between starving and drowning. Car. These are light wants to me O ! I could wish the fate that saved us from the ocean's fury, in kinder pity of our love's distress, had buried us in one wave embracing. Loti. How tenderly he talks ! This were indeed a lover I I'll have him dogged. Jaques ! [ Whispers Jaques. Don L. A most unhappy loss, indeed ! But come, don't despair, boy ; the ship that took us was a Por- tuguese, of Lisbon too, I believe ; who knows but, some way or other, we may hear of her yet ? Car. Have I not cause ? Were not my force of faith superior to my hopeless reason, I could not bear the insults of my fortune. Don L. Why now, would not this make any one weep, to hear a young man talk so finely, when he is almost famished ? hou. Did you observe those strangers that have walked by us ? Hon. Not much ; but what of them ? LiOu, Did you hear nothing of their talk ? Hon. I think I did ; one of them, the younger, seemed concerned for a lost mistress. Lou. Ay, but so near, so tenderly concerned, his looks, as well as words, speaking an inward grief that could not flow from every common passion. J must know more of him. Hon. What do you mean ? Lou. Must speak to him. Hon. By no means. Lou. Why, you see they are strangers, I believe in some necessity. Hon. Consider. Lou 1 hate it. Sir ! sir I SCENE III.] LOVE MAKES A MAN, 43 Don L. Would you speak with me, madam ? Lou. If you please, with your friend not to in- terrupt you, sir. Car. Your pleasure, lady ? Lou. You seem a str^gcr, sir ? Car. A most unfortunate one. Lou. If I am not deceived, in want : pardon my freedom If I have erred, as freely tell me so ; if not, as earnest of your better fortune, this trifle sues for your acceptance. \_Gives him Money* Don L. Take it, boy. Car. A bounty so unmerited, and from a hand un- known, fills me with surpi-ise and wonder. But give me leave, in honesty, to warn you, lady, of a too heed- less purchase ; for if you mean it as a bribe to any evil you would have me practise, be not offended, if I dare not take it. Lou. You are too scrupulous ; I have no hard de- signs upon your honesty only thus be wise and cautious, if you should follow me ; I am obser- ved ; farewell. Jaques ! Will you walk, cousin I [Exeunt Louisa and HoNOurA. Don L. Let's see ; Odsheart ! follow her, man why, *tis all gold ! Car. Dispose it as you please. Don L. I'll first have a better title to't No, 'tis all thine, boy 1 hold an hundred pistoles she's some great fortune in love with you.=.!. I say, follow her since you have lost one wife before you had her, I'd have you make sure of another before you lose her. Car. Fortune, indeed, has dispossessed her of my person ; but her firm title to my heart not all the subtle arts or laws of love can shake or violate. Don L. Pr'ythee follow her now ; methinks I'd fain see thee in bed with somebody before I die. Car, Be not so poor in thought ; let me entreat 7 44l LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT III, you rather to employ them, sir, with mine, in search of Angelina's fortune. Don L. Well, dear Charles, don't chide me now, I do love thee, and will follow thee. \Exeunt, SCENE IV., The Street. Enter Antonio and Charino. Ant. You heard what the sailor said, brother ; such a ship has put in here, and such persons were taken in it. Therefore, my advice is, immediately to get a warrant from the government, to search and take them up, wherever we can find them. Cha. Sir, you must not tell me I won't be chou- sed out of my daughter ; I shall expect her, sir ; if not, I'll take my course ; I know the law, [Walks about. " Ant. You really have a great deal of dark wit, bro- ther ; but if you know any course better than a war- rant to search for her, in the name of wisdom, take it ; if not, here's my oath, and yours, and hovr now, where's Clody? Oh, here he comes Enter Clodio, searching his Pockets. How now ? what's the matter, boy ? Clo. Ay, it's gone, split me ! Ant. What's the matter i [Louder. Clo. The best joint in Christendom. Ant. Clody? Clo. Sir, I have lost my snufF-box. Ant. Pshaw ! a trifle ; get thee another, man. Clo. Sir, 'tis not to be had besides, I dare not SCENE IV.] LOVE MAKES A MAST. 4,5 show my face at Paris without it. What do you think her grace will say to me ? Cha. \\ ell, upon second thoughts, I am content to search. do. I have searched all mypockets fifty times over, to no purpose. Cha. Pockets ! Clo. It's impossible to fellow it but in Paris 1*11 go to Paris, split me ! [Aside. Cha. Paris ! Why, you don't suppose my daugh- ter's there, sir ? Clo. I don't know but she may, sir : but I am sure they make the best joints in Europe there. Cha. Joints! my son-in-law, that should have been, seems strangely altered for the worse. But come, let's to the governor. Ant. Corns along, Clody. [Exeunt Antonio and Charino. Clo. Sir, I must look a little ; I'll follow you pre- sently. My poor pretty box ! Ah, plague o' my sea voyage I Enter a Page hastily, with a Flambeau. Serv. By your leave, sir, my master's coming; pray, sir, clear the way. Clo. Ha J why, thou art pert, my love ; pr'ythee, who is thy master, child ? Serv. The valiant Don Duart, sir, nephew to the governor of Lisbon. Clo. Well, child, and what, does he eat every man he meets ? Sej-v. No, sir ; but he challenges every man that takes the wall of him, and always sends me before to clear the way. Clo. Ha ! a pretty harmless humour that ! Is thi he, child ? You may look as terrible as you please; I must banter you, split me! lAsicie, 46 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT III. Enter Don Duart, stalking up to Clodio. Don D. Do you know me, sir r Clo. Hey, ho ! [Looks carelessly on him, and gapes. Don D. Do you know me, sir ? Clo. You did not see my snufF-box, sir, did you ? Don D. Sir, in Lisbon 'no man asks me a question covered. ISlrikes off" Clody's hat-J] Now, you know me. Clo. Perfectly well, sir Hi, hi! I like you migh- tily you are not a bully, sir ? Don D. You are saucy, friend. Clo. Ay, it's a way I have, after I*m affronted Thou art really the most extraordinary umph that ever I met with. Now, sir, do you know me ? split me ! Don D. Know thee ! take that, peasant ! \_Strikes him^ and both dratv. Clo. I can't, upon my soul, sir ; allons ! now we shall come to a right understanding. [J'heyjight. Clo. Allons! to our better acquaintance, sir A.h, ha! [Don Duart ^//5.] he has it I never pushed better in my life, never in my life, split me ! Page. Oh, my master's killed ! help, ho ! murder ! help ! Clo. Hey ! why, faith, child, that's very true, as thou sayest ; and so, the devil take the hindmost. [Exit Clodio. Enter Officers. 1 Off. How now ! Who's that cries murder ? Page. Oh! my master's murdered! some of you follow me ; this way he took ; let's after him help ! murder! help! [^Exit. 2 Off. 'Tis Don Duart. 1 Off. So, pride has got a fall; he has paid for't now; you have met with your match, 'faith, sir. Come, let's carry the body to that surgeon's : you pursue the murderer ; I'll warrant him some civil SCENE IT.3 LOVE MAKES A MAN. 47 gentleman ; ye need not make too much haste ; for if he does escape, 'tis no great matter Come along. [Exeunt xvilh the Body. , "Enter Carlos and Don Lewis. Don L. Come along, Charles ; I'm sure 'tis she, by their description ; and if that brawny dog, the cap- tain, has played her no foul play, she sha'n't want ran- som, if ail my estate can purchase it. Car. Now, fortune guiyle us ! [^Exeunt. Enter Jaques and Bravoes. Jaques. That's he, the tallest be sure you spare his person only force him into this chair, and carry him as directed. 1 Brav. What must be done with the old fellow ? Jaques. We must have him too, lest he should dog the other, and be troublesome. If he won't come quietly, bring him any how Follow softly ; we shall snap them as they turn the corner. [Exeunt after them, A noise of Follow, 8^c. Enter Clodio hastily from, the other Side. Clo. Ah, pox of their noses ! the dogs have sraelled me out ! What shall I do ? If they take me, I shall be hanged, spht me Ha ! a door open 1 'faith I'll in at a venture. \_Exit. Re-enter Bravoes, txith Carlos in a Chair . some hauling in Don Lewis. Don L. Oh, my poor boy, Charles ! Charles ! help ! murder ! 1 Brav. Hold your peace, fool, if you'd be well used. Don L. Sir, I will not hold my peace ; dogs ! rogues ! villains ! help ! murder ! 48 LOVE MAKES A MAN. ACT III. 1 Braxu Nay, then, by your leave, old gentleman i So, bring him along. Don Z/. Aw, aw, aw ! {They gag him, andcnrry him head and heelsi. Exeunt^ SCENE V. A Chamher. Elvira and Isabella: Eh, Is not my brother come home yet ? Isa. I have not seen him, madam. Eh. Go, send and seek him; go all of ye every where I'll not rest till your return ; take away your lights too ; for my devotions are written in my heart, and I shall read them without a taper. [Exit Isabella. Enter Clodio, stealing in. Clo. Ah, poor Clody ! what will become of thee ? Thy condition, I'm afraid, is but very indifferent Followed behind, stopped before, and beset on both sides ! Ah, pox o*nay wit ! I must be bantering, must I ? But let me see where am I ? An odd sort of a house, this all the doors open, and nobody in't ; no noise, no v/hisper, no dog stirring ! Eh. Who's that ? Ch. Ha ! a woman's voice ! Eh. Who are you ? Who waits there ? Stephano ! Julia ! Clo. Gadso ! 'tis the lady of the house : she can't see my unfortunate face, however. Faith, I'll e'en make a grave speech, tell her my case, and beg her protection. SCENE v.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 49 Eli\ Speak ! what are you ? Clo- Madam, a most unfortunate young gentleman. Elv. I am sure you are a man of most ill manners, to press thus boldly to my private chamber. Whi- ther would you ? What want you ? Clo. Gracious madam, hear me ; I am a stranger most unfortunate, and my distress has made me rudely press for your protection ; if you refuse it, madam, I am undone for ever, by I say, madam, I am utterly undone -'Twas coming, faith ! [Aside. Elv. Alas ! his fear confounds him. What is't pursues you, sir ? Clo. An outcry of officers ; the law's at my heels, madam, though justice I'm not afraid of. Elv. How could you offend the one and not die other ? Clo. Being piovoked, madam, by the insolence of my enemy, in my own defence I just now left him dead in the street. I am a very young man, madam, and I would not willingly be hanged in a strange country, methinks ; which I certainly shall be, un- less your tender charity protects me Gad, I have a rare tongue ! I have a rare tongue, faith ! [Aside. Elv. Poor wretch, I pity him ! Clo. Madam, your house is now my only sanctu- ary, my altar ; therefore 1 beg you, upon my knees, madam, take pity of a poor bleeding victim. Elv. Are you a Castilian ? Clo. No, madam, I was born in in in what d'ye call 'um in Elv. Nay, I ask not with purpose to betray you ; were you ten thousand times a Spaniard, the nation we Portuguese most hate, in such distress, I yet would give you my protection. Clo. May I depend upon you, madam ? Am I safe ? Elv. Safe as my power, my word, or vow can make you. Enter that door, which leads you to a closet ; should the officers come, as you expect, they owe so LOVE MAKES A MAIT. [aCT III. such reverence to my lodgings, they'll search no fur- ther than my leave invites them. Clo D'ye think, madam, you 6an persuade them i Eh, Fear not ; I'll warrant you ; away ! C/o. The breath of gods, and eloquence of angels, go along Ttlth you. \ExiU Eh' Alas ! who knows but that the charity I af- ford this stranger, perhaps my brother, elsewhere, may stand in need of? How he trembles ! I hear his breath come short, hither. Be of comfort, sir, once more I give you my solemn promise for your safety. Enter Tivo Officers, Isabella, Page, nwc? Pedro. Page. Oh, madam, madam ! my master's killed. Eh. What sayest thou ? Pedro. Your brother, madam, my master, yoting Don Duart's dead; 'he just now quarrelled with a gentleman, who -unfortunately killed him in tlie street. Eh. Ah, me ! 1 Off". We are informed, madam, that the murderer was seen to enter this house, which made us press into it, to apprehend hiin. Clo. Hey ! Why, what the devil ! Am I safer than I would be now ? Exactly I have nicked the house to a hair Just so I did at Paris, too, when I took a lodging at a bailiff's, that had three writs against me This damned closet, too, has ne'er a chimney to creep out at Ah, poor Clody ! [Retires, Eh. Oh, my unhappy brother! such an end as this, thy haughty mind did long since prophesy ; and, to increase my misery, thy wretched sister wilfully must make a breach of what she has vowed, or thou fall unrevenged. Enter Governor and SERrANTS. Gov. Where's my unhappy niece ? Alas ! your SCENE v.] LOVE MAKES A mAn. 51 brother lies at a surgeon's yonder, past all recovery. Reproof comes now too late he's dead ! he's dead ! Elv. It shall be so ; I'll take the lighter evil of the two, and keep the solemn vow to which just Heaven was witness : the wounds of perjury never can be cured ; but justice may again o'ertake the murderer, when no rash vows protect him. Gov. Take comfort, niece. Elv. O forbear [ Search for the murderer, and take order for my brother's funeral, while I shut out the offensive day, and here in solitude indulge my sor- row ; therefore I beg my nearest friends, and you, my lord, for some few days, to spare your charitable visits. Gov. I grieve for your misfortune, niece ; but since you'll have it so, we take our leaves. Farewell [Exeunt Governor, Servants, S^x* Clo. Hey ! what are they gone away without me ; and by her contrivance too ? Gadso ! Eh. Whoe'er thou art, to whom I've given means of life, to let thee see with what religion I have kept my vow, come fearless forth, while night's thy friend, and pass unknown. Clo. If this is not love, the devil's in't ! [Aside* Elv. Fly with the utmost speed, where I may never see thee more. Clo. Ay, that's her modesty. [Aside. Elv. And let that charitable faith thou hast found in me, persuade thee to atone thy crime by penitence. Clo. Poor soul ! I may find a better way to thank thee for't. Elv. You are at the door now ; farewell for ever. [Exit Elvjra, Clo. Which is as much as to say, what would I give to see you again All in good time, child. [Exit. ^2 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT IV ACT THE FOURTIf. SCENE I. Louisa's House. Enter LoutsA and Jaques. Lou. Were they both seized ? Jaq. Both, madam, and will be here immediately^ I ran before, to give your ladyship notice. Lou. You know my orders ; when they are entered, bar all the doors, and, on your lives, let every one be mute, as I directed I must retire a while. [ExiU nferBRAvoES,tcAoZe#CARLOS outofthe Chair^'while others throw down Don Lewis gagged and bound. Car. So, gentlemen, you find I've not resisted yoii but now, pray, let me know my crime ? Why have you brought me hither ? Where am I ? if in prison, look in my face, perhaps you have mistaken me for another [Jaques holds up kis Lanihorn, nods, and exit wiUi the rest.'] You seem not to know me, sir All dumb, and vanished ! my fortune's humor- ous ; she sports witli me. Don L. Aw, aw ! Car. What's here ? a fellow prisoner ! Who are you? JDon L. Aw, aw! Car. Do you speak no other language ? Don L. Aw, aw, aw ! [^Louder. Car. Nay, tliat's the same. DonL. Oh! ^Sighing. Car. Poor wretch ! I am afraid he would speak if Jie could. SCEXE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 5$ Enter Jaques, ivho releases Don Lewis. Sure they think I walk in my sleep, and won*t speak, for fear of waking me. Don L. Sir, your most humble servant ; and now my tongue's at liberty, pray, wiJl 3'ou do me the fa- vour to show me the way home again ? What a plague, are you all dumb ? [Exit Jaques.] Well, sir, and pray what are Charles 1 ah ! my dear boy! Car. My uncle ! Nay then my fortune has not quite forsaken me ! How came you hither, sir ? Don L. Faith, like a corpse into a church, boy, with my heels foremost ; but, pr'ythee, how didst thou come ? Car. You saw the men that seized us : they forced me into a chair, and brought me. Don L. Well, but what is all this for ? What would they have ? Car. That we must wait their pleasure to be in- formed of. Do7i L. The sons of whores won't speak neither. Hey-day ! what's to be done now i Enter 3 AQVES, and Two Servants, tvitha Banquet^ Wine, and Lights. Car. More riddles yet ; I dream, sure. [Jaques covipliments Doi^ L.ewis, to take his Chair. Don L, For me ? Sir, your mostJmmble servant : ISits.] Charles, sit down, boy- Ha ! ha ! ha ! a parcel of silly dumb dogs ! Is this all the business ? Puppies ! did they think I would not come to supper, without being brought neck and heels to't ? Car. Amazement all ! What can it end in ? Don L. Never trouble thy head, pr'ythee : fall to^ man Delicate food, truly Here Dumb ! pr'ythee give's a glass of wine, to wet the way a little. Come, Charles, here's, here's honest Dumb 's health, 2 Si LOVE MAKES A MAN, [aCT IV, .To thee : [Drinis.'] Dumb's a very honest fellow, 'faith. [Claps Jaques on the Head, Car. What harmony's this ? [A Flourish, Don L. Rare music indeed ; let's eat and hear it. [Music here.] Mighty fine, truly 1 have not made a heartier meal a great while. [Here Jaques offers a Nightcap and Gotcn to Don Lewis.] Well, and what's to do now, lad ? For me, boy ? Odso, we lie here, do we ? mighty well that again, 'faith ; (for I was just thinking to go home, but that 1 had ne'er a lodging :) nay, 1 always said honest Dumb knew how to make his friends welcome Well, but it's time enough yet, sha'n't we crack a bottle first ? Charles is melancholy. [Jaques shakes his Head.] What, that's as much as to say, if I won't go, I shall be carried Sir, your humble sei-vant. [Puis on the Govon.] Well, Charles, good night, since they won't let me have a mind to stay any longer. I'd give a pistole though, to know what this will come to ! Dumb, come along. [Exeunt Don Lewis and Jaques. Car. I'm bury'd in amazement [Music is heard.] Ha, more music ? [Music again. Don Lewis appears above. Don L. So, at last, I have groped out a window that will let me into the secret; now if any foul play should happen, I am pretty near the street too, and can bawl out, Murder ! to the watch But, mum, the door opens. Enter Louisa. Hey ! ah ! what dull rogues were we not to suspect tliis before ? Dumb's a sly dog : 'tis she, 'faith turn, dum, dum ' Here will be fine work presently ! toll, dum, di, dum Now I shall see what mettle my boy's made of; turn, dum, dum. Lou. You seem amazed, sir. Car. Your pardon, lady, if 1 confess it raises much my wonder, why a stranger, friendless, and unknown, SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 55 ehould meet, unmerited, such floods of courtesy : for, if I mistake not, once this day before, I've tasted of your bounty. Lou. I have forgot that ; but I confess I saw you, sir. Car. Why then was I forced hither ? If you re- lieved me only from a soft compassion oi^ my fortune, you could not think but such humanity might, on the slightest hint, have drawn me to be grateful. Lou. I own I could not trust you to my fortune; I knew not but some other might have seen you ^beside, methought you spoke less kind to me be- fore. Car. If my poor thanks were offered in too plain a dress, (as, I confess, I'm little practised in the rules of graced behaviour,) rather think me ignorant than rude, and pity what you cannot pardon. Lou. How could you charge yourself with such a thought i I scarce can think 'tis ia your nature to be rude at least to our sex. Car. ' Twere more unpardonable there. Lou. Nay, now you are too strict on the other side ; for there may happen times, when what the world calls rudeness, a woman might be brought to pardon, seasons, when even modesty were ignorance Pray be seated, sir, nay, I'll have it so Suppose yourself the man so loved, where could you find, at such a time, excuses for your modesty ? Car. If I could love again, my eyes would tell hex i if not, I would not seem to understand her. Lou. Alas, you have too poor a sense of woman's love. Think you we have no invention ? You would not understand her ! how would you avoid it ? When even her slightest look would speak too plain for that excuse ; if not, she'd press you still with plainer, stronger proofs; her life, her fortune, should be yours: for where a vt'oman loves, such gifts as tliese are tri- bes. [Gives him Jexuels, 56 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT IV. Car. Is't possible ! can there be such a woman ? Lou. Fie, I could chide you now ; you w6uld not sure be thought so slow of apprehension ? Car. I would not willingly be thought so vain, or so uncharitable, to suppose there could be such a one. Lou. Nay, now you force rae to forsake my sex, and tell you plain 1 cannot fipeak it yet you must know I am this creature so reduced for you. Car* Monstrous ! , {Aside and rising. Lou. What is't you start at ? Car. Not for your beauty ; though I confess you fair to a perfection, but when that beauty fades, (as time leaves none unvisited,) what charm shall then secure my love ? Your riches ? No an honest mind's above the bribes of fortune : for though distressed, a stranger, and in want, I thus return them thankless. Be modest, and be virtuous, I'll admire you ; all good men will adore you, and when your beauty and your fortune are no more, will still deliver down your name revered to ages. Lou. Oh, say you will be mine, and make your own conditions. If you suspect my temper, bind me by the most sacred tie, and let my love, my person, and my fortune, lawfully be yours. Car. Madam, I'll be at once sincere, and tell you> 'tis impossible that we should ever meet in love. Lou. Impossible ! oh, why ? Car. Because my love, my vows, and faith, are given to another : therefore, since you find I dare be - honest, be early wise, and now release me to my fortune. Lou. I cannot part with you. Car. You must ! I cannot with my reason Lou. Ungrateful ! Will you go ? Take heed ! for you have proved I am not mistress of my temper. Car. I see it, and am sorrj', but needed not this threat to drive me ; for still I dare be just, and force myself away. [^Ej:it Carlos. SCEKS I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 57 Lou. Oh, torture ! left ! refused ! despised ! Have I thrown off my ])ride for this ? Oh, insupportable ! if I am not revenged, may all the well. [ Walks disordered* Don L. What a plague, are all these fine things couie to nothing then ! Poor soul ! she's in great heat truly Ah, silly rogue ! now could I find in ray heart to put her into good humour again 1 have a great mind, 'faith Odd, she's a hum- mer A strange mind, I ha'n't had such a mind a great while Hey ! ay ; I'll do't, faith if she does but stay now ; ah, it she does but stay ! [As he is getting Jrom the Balcony ^ Louis A is speaking t9 Jaques. Jx)u. Who waits there ? Enter Jaques. Where's the stranger ? Jaq. Madam, I met him just now walking hastily about the gallery. Lou. Are all the doors fast ? Jaq. All barred, madHm. Lou. Put out all your lights too, and on your lives let no one a-k or answer him any question : but be you still near to observe him. [^Exit Jaques. Ah t [Don Lewis drops down. Don L. Odso, my back! Lou. Bless me, who's this ? wliat are you ? Don L. Not above fifty, madam. Lou. Whence come you I what's your business ? Don L. Finishing. Lou. Who showed, who brought you hither ? Don L. Dumb, honest Dumb. Lou. Will you be gone, sir ? I have no time to fool an ay. Don L. Yes, but you have ! what, don't I know ? /*o. Pray, sir, who ? What is't you take me for \ 58 LOVE MAKES A MAV. [aCT IV. Don L. A delicate piece of work, truly, but not finished ; you understand me ? Lou. You are mad, sir. Don L. I say, don't you be so modest ; for there are times, do you see, when even modesty is igno- rance, ( pray be seated, madam nay, I'll have it so, ) ah ! [Sits dotvn, and mimicks her behaviour to Carlos. Lou. Confusion ! have I exposed myself to this wretch, too ! had witness to my folly nay, I deserve it. [Stands mute. Don L. So, so, I shall bring her to terms presently you have a world of pretty jewels here, ma- dam but where a woman loves, such gifls as these are trifles. [^Mimicks again. Lou. Insupportable ! within there ! Enter Bravoes and Jaques. Don L, Hey ! [Rising, Jaq. Did your ladyship call, madam" ? Don L. I don't like her looks, 'faith. [ .4side. Lou. Here, take this fool, let him be gagged, tied neck and heels, and locked into a garret ; away with him. Don L. Dumb ! Dumb ! help, Dumb ! Dumb ! stand by me, Dumb ! A pox of my finishing, aw ! aw ! [ They gag him, and carry him off. Lou. The insolence of this fool was more provo- king than the other's scorn ; but I shall yet find way* to measure my revenge. \Exit Louisa. Lnter Carlos in the Dark. Car. What can this v/oman mean ? The doors all barred ; the lights put out ; the servants mute. I would the worst would show itself. Ha, yonder's a jight, I'll follow it, and provoke my fortune. [Exit. SCENE IF.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 59 SCENE II. Another Room, Enter Angelina, with a Light. Ang. I cannot like this house ; for now, as going to my rest, my ears were alarmed with the cries of "one that called for help ; Pve seen strange faces too, that carry guilt and terror in their looks ; and yet the of- ficer that placed me here, appeared of honest thought What can this mean ? N-j matter what, since no- thing but the loss of him I love, can worse befal me ! Hark, what noise ? is the door fast ? Ah ! [Going to shut it. Enter Carlos, and Jaques listening. Car. Ha, another lady ! and alone ! Aug. Ha, that voice ! [^Amazed. '\ My Carlos Oh! Car. *Tis she ! my long-lost love, my living Ange- Kna ! [Embracing her. Jaq. Say you so, sir ? this shall to my lady. \_Exit Jaques. Ang. Oh, let me hold you ever thus, lest fate again should part us ! Car. 'Twas death indeed to part, but from so hard a separation, thus again to meet, is life restored. Ang. Oh, I were happy, blessed above my sex, could but my plain simplicity of love deserve your kind endearments. Eyiter Jaques and Louisa at a Distance. Jaq. They are there. Lou. Leave me. \_Exit Jaques, ?2c? Louisa listens. Ang. I cannot bear to see you thus : for ray sake 60 LOVB MAKES A MAN. [aCT IV. don't despond : for while you seem in hope, I shall easily be cheerful. Car. Oh, thou engaging softness ! thy courage has revived md ; no, we'll not despair ; the guardiaa power that hitherto has saved us, may now protect and fix us happy. Lou. Ha ! so near acquainted [Behind, Car. And yet our safety bids us part this moment. How came you hither ? Ang. The officer, that made me captive, proved a worthy man, and placed me here, as a companion ta the lady of this dwelling. Car. Ha ! to what end ? Ang- He said, to be the advocate of his success- less love ; for he confessed he woo'd her honourably. Car. Is't possible ? Oh, I could teli thee such a tale! Ang. You amaze me ; pray what is it ? Car. This is no time Let it suffice the doors are barred against me ; this moment I am a prisoner to her fury ; if thou canst help me to any means of safe- ty, or escape, ask me no questions, but be quick and tell me. Ang. Now you frighten me; but here, through my apartment, leads a passage to the garden, at the lower end you'll find a mount ; if you dare drop from thence, I'll shew you ; but can't you say whea I may hope again to see you ? Car. About an hour hence walking m the garden, ready for your escape ; for, if I live, I'll come pro- vided with the means to make it sure. Ang. You will not fail ? Car. If I survive, depend on me ; till when, may Heav'n support thy innocence I Ang. Follow me [Exeunt hastily Lou. Are you so nimble, sir ? Who waits there ? SCENE III.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 61 Enter Jaques. Run, take help, and stop the stranger; he is now making his escape through the garden ; fly. [Exit Jaques.] Revenge, Hke a viper, gnaws upon my quiet, and I must change its food, or leave my being : No, if I forego a second time that dear support, my pride, tnay I become as miserable as that wretch, that des- tined fool he dotes on. Ha, she is returned ; yon- der she passes; with what assured contentment iu her looks ! Enter JaquEs. Now, have yoii brought him ? Jaq. Madam, we made what haste we could, but the gentleman reached the mount before us, and es- caped over the garden wall. Lou. Escaped, villain ! Durst thou tell me so ? Jaq. If your ladyship had called me a little sooner, we had taken him. Who the devil is this stranger ? [^Astde. Lou. Fool that I am, I betray myself to my own servants ! Well, 'tis no matter, go. [Exit J aqves.] He has not left me hopeless yet ; an hour hence he promised to be here again ; and if he keeps his word, he yet, at least in my revenge, shall prove me wo- Hian. [Exit L0UIS4, scene III. The Street. Ertler Don Duart, disguised^ iuith a Servant. Don D. Where did you find him ? Scrv. Hard by, sir, at an house of entertainment ; he's now coming forth ; that's he. S 62 tOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT IV. Enter Clodio. Don D. I scarce remember him, I would i^ot wil- lingly mistake I'll observe him. Clo. So ! now if I can but pick up an honest fel- low, to crack one bottle, I think I shall finish the day as smartly as the Grand Signior Hold, let me see, what has ray hasty refireshraent cost me here ; ^umb umb umb, [Counts his Money.] se- ven pistoles, by Jupiter. Don D. 'Tis the same ; ^leave me [Exit Ser- vant.'] Your servant, sir. Clo. Sir, your humble servant. Don D. Pardon a stranger's freedom, sir ; but when you know my business Clo, Sir, if you'll take a bottle, I shall be proud of your acquaintance ; and if I don't do your business before we part, I'll knock under the table. Don D. Sir, I shall be glad to drink with you, but at present am incapable of sitting to it. Clo. Why then, sir, you shall only drink as long as you can stapd 1 we'll have a bottle here, sir Hey, Madona ! [^Calls at the Door. Don D. A very frank-humoured gentleman ; I'll know him farther I presume, sir, you are not of JPortugal ? Clo. No, sir 1 am a kind of a ^what d'ye call'um a sort of a here-and-thereian ; I am a stranger no where. Don D. Have you travelled far, sir ? Clo. My tour of Europe, or so, sir ; I came this summer from Rome. Enter a Servant with Wine. So, so ! here's the wine ! Come, sir, to our better ac- quaintance 'Faith, I like you mightily Allans ! Don D. I find, sir, you have taken a taste of aH SCENE 111.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 6S the countries you have travelled through ; but I pre- sume your chief amusement has lain among the la- dies. You fared well in France, I hope ? Clo. Yes, 'faith, as far as my pocket would go : but no money, no mademoiselle; no ducat, no duchess ; no pistole, no princess By the way, let me tell you, sir, your Lisbonites are held up at a pretty smart rate too. Don t). But pray, sir, among all your adventures, has no particular lady's merit encouraged you to ad- vance your own fortune by marriage ? Clo. Sir, I have been so near marriage, that my wedding-day has been come, but it was never over yet, split me ! JDon D. How so, sir ? Clo* ^^'hy, the priest, the bride, and the dinner, were all ready dressed, 'faith ; but before I could fall to, my elder brother, sir, comes me in, with a damned long stride, and a sharp stomach says a short grace, and whipped her up like an oyster. Don D. You had ill fortune, sir. Clo. Sir, fortune is not much in my debt, for you must know, sir, though I lost my wife, I have esca- ped hanging here in Lisbon. Don D. That I know you have ; be not amazed, sir. Clo. Hey ! what the devil ! have I been all this while treating an officer, that has a warrant against me ? Pray, sir, if it be no offence may I beg the favour to know who you are i Don D. Let it suffice, I own myself your friend I am your debtor, sir ; you fought a gentleman they call Don Duart 1 knew him well ; he was a proud insulting fellow, and my mortal foe : but you killed him, and I thank you ; nay, I saw you do it fairly too ; and for the action, I desire you will com- mand my sword or fortune. lo. Pray, sir-. is there no joke in all this ? 64? LOVE MAKES A MAN. [acT IV. Don D. Sir, you may trust to my sincerity ; I ask for no return, but to be informed how I may do you service. [Oilers him a Purse. Clo. Sir, your health ; I take your word, though I decline your money. I'll give you informa- tion presently. [Drinks.] Pray, sir, do you know the gentleman's sister that I fought with ? That is, do you know what reputation, what fortune she has i Don D. 1 know her fortune to be worth above twelve thousand pistoles ; her reputation yet unsul- lied ; but pray, sir, why may you ask this ? Clo, Now, I'll tell you, sir -twelve thousand pistoles, you say ? Don D. I speak the least, sir. Clo. Why, this very lady, after I had killed her brother, gave me the protection of her house ; hid me in her closet while the officers came to search for me ; and, as soon as their backs were turned, poor soul ! hurried me out at a private door, with tears in her eyes, 'faith ! Now, sir, what think you ? Is not this hint broad enough for a man to make love upon ? Don D. Confusion ! [Aside, Clo. Look you, sir, now, if you dare, give me a proof of your friendship; will you do me the favour to carry a letter to her ? Don D. Let me consider, sir . I)eath and fire ! is all her height of sorrow but dissembled then i but this requires my farther search [_Aside.'^ May I depend on this for truth, sir ? Clo. Why, sir, you don't suppose I banter a lady of her quality ? Don D, Damnation ! {Aside.] Well, sir, I'll take your letter ; but first let me be well acquainted with my errand. CIq- Sir, I'll write this moment ; if you please, ACT v.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 65 we'll step into this house here, and finish the business over another bottle. Don D. With all my heart. Clo. AUons! Entrez, {fixeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCE^E I. Louisa's House. Louisa and Jaques. Lou. Is the lady seized ? ' Jaq. Yes, madam, and half dead with the fright. Lou. Let them be ready to produce her, as I di- rected. When the stranger's taken, bring me imme- diate notice : 'tis near his time, away ! {Exit Jaques.] Had he not loved another, methinks I could have borne this usage Hark, what noise ! they have him sure ! How now ! Enter Jaques. Jaq. Madam, the gentleman is taken. Lou, Bring him in Revenge, I thank thee now. Enter Carlos. So, sir, you are returned, it seems ; you can love then! You have an heart, I find, though not for me ! Per- haps you cametoseekaworthiermistress here;'twoulol f2 66 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT V. be uncharitable to disappoint your love -I'll help your search ; if she be here, be sure she's safe Opea that door there. [Door opens, and discovers two Bravoes with Angelina, an Handkerchief on her Neck, iJohich they hold ready to strangle her. Now, sir, is this the lady ? Car. My Angelina ! Lou. If you approach, she dies. Ang. Oh, miserable meeting ! Lou. Now let me see you smile, and rudely throw me from your arms ; now scorn my love, my passion, and my fortune. Car. Oh, cruelty of fate 1 that could betray such innocence. Lou What, not a word to soften yet thy obstinate aversion ! thou vretched fool, thus to provoke thy ruin End her. [To the Bravoes. Cqr. Oh, hold ! for pity hold and hear me. Lou. I've learned from you to use my pity On one condition yet she lives an hour, but if refused Car. NaiTie not a refusal, be it danger, death, or tortures, any thing that life can do to save her. Lou. Presuming fool ! were I inclined to save her life, (which, by my hopes of peace, I do not mean,) canst thou believe this insolent concern for her to my face would not provoke my vengeance ? Car. Yet hold ! if revenge alone can sate your fury, at least misplace it not ; mine was the otfence, be mine the punishment. Lou. How he disarms my anger ! But must my ri- val triumph then ? Ang, Charge me not with such abhorred ingra- titude : be witness, Heaven, I'll for ever serve you, court you, and confess you my preserver. Car. For pity, yet resolve, and force your temper to a moment's pause. See at your feet my humble scprn imploring, crushed, and prostrate, lijce a vile SCENE I] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 67 slave, that falls below your last contempt, and trem- bling begs for mercy. Lou. He buries my revenge in blushes. Release the lady go. [jBxe?ii Bravoes.] And now farewell ray follies, and my mistaken love : Love long and happily; forgive my follies past, and you have over- paid me. \_Joins their Hands. Car. My Angelina, do I then live to hold thee thus? But rst let's kneel and pay our thanks to Heaven, and this our kind preserver. Loii. Nay, now you give me a confusion. [Raises them.] But if you dare trust me with the story of your love's distress, as far as my fortune can^ command it freely, to supply your present wants, or any future meuns proposed to give you lasting happiness. Car. Eternal rounds of never-ending peace reward your wondrous bounty ! But I have been too busy^ in my joy, I almost had forgot my friendly uncle, the ancient gentleman that first came hither with me ; how have you disposed of him ? Lou. I think he's here, and safe who waits there ? Enter Jaques. Release the gentleman above, and tell him that his friends desire him. [Exit J aque^i,] You'll pardon, sir, the treatment I have shown him ; he made a little too merry with my folly, which, I confess, at that time, something too far incensed me. Car. He's old and cheerful, apt to be free; but he'll be sorry when his humour gives offence. Enter Don Lewis, Jaques bowing to him. lion L. Pr'ythee, honest Dumb, don't be so ceremo- nious ! I tell thee it's very well as it is, (only my jaws ache a little :) but as long as we're all friends, it's no great matter My dear Charles, I must buss thee, 68 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [ACT T. 'faith ! Madam, your humble servant 1 beg your pardon, d'ye see you understand me. [Exit Jaques. Lou. I hope we are all friends, sir. Don L. I hope we are, madam 1 am an ho- nest old fellow, 'faith ; though now and then I am a little odd, too. Car. Here's a stranger, uncle. Don L, What, my little blossom ! my gilliflower I my rose ! my pink ! my tulip ! 'faith, I must smell thee. [Salutes Angelina.] Odd, she's a delicate nose- gay ! Well, 'faith, I am heartily joyed to see thee, child. Aug. I thank you, sir ; and wish I may deserve your love : our fortune, once again, is kind ; but how it comes about Don L. Does not signify three-pence ; when For- tune pays me a visit, I seldom trouble myself to know which way she came 1 tell you, I am glad to see you. Enter Jaques. Jaq. Madam, here's the Lord Governor come to wait upon your ladyship. Lou. At this late hour ! What can his business be ? Desire his lordship to walk in. Enter Governor. Gov. Pardon, madam, this unseasonable visit. Lou. Your lordship does me honour. Gov. At least, I hope, my business will excuse it. Some strangers, here below, upon their offered oaths, demanded my authority to search your house for a lost young lady, to whom the one of them affirms himself the father : but the respect I owe your lady- ship made me refuse their search, till I had spokea with you. SCENE I.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 69 Atig. It must be they Now, madam, your pro- tection, or we yet are lost. Lou. Be not concerned ! would you avoid them ? Car. No, we must be found; let them have en- trance : we have an honest cause, and would provoke its trial. Loti. Conduct the gentlemen without. [Exit Ja- QUES.] My lord, I'll answer for their honesty ; and, as they are strangers, where the law's severe, must beg you'd favour and assist them. Gov. You may command me, madam ; though there's no great fear ; for, having heard the most that they could urge against them, 1 found in their com- plaints more spleen and humour, than any just ap- pearance of a real injury. Enter Charino, Antonio, and Clodio. Cha. I'll have justice. Ant. Don't be too hot, brother. Cha. I demand justice. Gov. That's the lady, sir, I told you of. Clo. Ay, that's she, my lord, I am witness. Car. My father ! Sir, your pardon, and your bless- ing. Ant. Why, truly, Charles, I begin to be a little re- conciled to the matter ; I wish you well, though I can't join you together ; for my friend and brother here is very obstinate, and will admit of no satisfac- tion ; but, however. Heaven will bless you in spite of his teeth. Cha. This is all contrivance, roguery ! I am abused ! I cay, deliver my daughter she is an heiress, sir ; and to detain her is a rape in law, sir, and I'll have you all hanged ; therefore no more delays sir; for I tell you beforehand, I am a wise man, and 'tis im- possible to trick me. Ant. 1 say, you are too positive, brother; an4 when you learn more wisdom, you'll have some. 70 tOVE MAKES A MAK. [acT T. Cha, I say, brother, this is mere malice, when you know, in your own conscience, I have ten times your understanding ; for you see I am quite of another opinion ; and so, once more, my lord, I demand jus- tice against that ravisher. Gffo. Does your daughter, sir, complain of any violence ? Cha. Your lordship knows young girls never cora- Elain, when the violence is over ; he has taught her etter, I suppose. Ang. \To Chariko, Jcneeling.] Sir, you are my fa- ther, bred me, cherished me, gave me my afifections, taught me to keep them hitherto within the bounds of honour and of virtue ; let me conjure you, by the chaste love my mother bore you, when she preferred, to her mistaken parents' choice, her being yours with- out a dower, not to bestow my person where those affections ne'er can follow I cannot love that gen- tleman more than a sister ought. Clo. No ! that's very odd. Ang. But here ray heart's subdued, even to the last compliance with my fortune : he, sir, has nobly wooed and won me ; and I am only his, or miserable. Cha, Get up again. Gov. Come, sir, be persuaded ; your daughter has made ah honourable and happy choice ; this severity will but expose yourself and her. Cha. My lord, I don't want advice : I'll consider with myself, and resolve upon my own opinion. Enter Jaques. Jaq. My lord, here's a stranger without inquires for your lordship, and for a gentleman that calls him- self Clodio. Clo. Hey ! Ah, mon cher ami ! SCENE 1.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. *71v Enter Don Duart, disguised. Well, what news, my dear ? Has she answered my letter ? Don D. There, sir ^This to your lordship. [Gives him a Letter, and whispersm Gov. Married to-night! and to this gentleman^ say'st thou ? I'm amazed. Don D. Here is her choice, my lord. Clo. \ Reading the Letter. 1 um um charms ir resistible excuse so soon passion blushes con* sent provision children settlement marriage If this is not plain, the devil's in't Hold, here's more, "'faith [Reads to himself^ Gov. 'Tis very sudden ^but give my service, I'll wait upon her. Clo. Ha ! ha ! ha ! poor soul ! I'll be with her pre- sently ; and 'faith, since I have made my own fortune, I'll e'en patch up my brother's too. Hark you, my dear dad, that should ha' been This business is all at an end for, look you, I find your daughter's en- gaged ; and, to tell you the truth, so am I, 'faith. If ray brother has a mind to marry her, let him ; for I shall not, split me ! And now, gentlemen and la- dies, if you will do me the honour to grace mine and the Lady Elvira's wedding, such homely entertain- ment as my poor house affords, you shall be all heartily welcome to. Don L. Thy house ! ha ! ha 1 Well said, puppy. Clo. Ha ! old Testy ! Cha. What dost thou mean, man? [To Clodio. Gov. ' Fis even so, I can assure you, sir; I have myself an invitation from the lady's own hand, that confirms it : 1 know her fortune well, and am sur- prised at it. Ang. Blessed news ! This seems a forward step t reconcile us all. 72 LOVE MAKES A MAN. [aCT V, Cha. If this be true, my lord, I have been thinking to no purpose; my design is all broke to pieces.' Ant. Come, brother, we'll mend it as well as we can ; and since that young rogue has rudely turned tail upon your daughter, I'll fill up the blank with Charles's name, and let the rest of the settlement stand as it was. Cha. Hold, I'll first see this wedding, and then give you my final resolution. Clo. Come, ladies, if you please, I will show you the way. Lou. Sir, we wait upon you. Cha. This wedding's an odd thing. Don L. Ha 1 ha ! if it should be a lie, now ! [Exeunt. SCENE It. Elvira's Jpartment. Enter Elvira and Servant. lv. Are the officers ready ? Serv. Yes, madam, and know your ladyship's or- ders. Elv. Now, justice shall uncloud my fame, and see my brother's death revenged. Enter Clodio, Governor, Antonio, Angelina, Carlos, Charing, and Don Lewis. Clo. Well, madam, you see I'm punctual you've nicked your man, 'faith ; I'm always critical to a minute. You'll never stay for me. Ladies and gen- tlemen, I desire you'll do me the honour of being better acquainted here my lord SCENTS II.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 73 Gov. 'Give you joy, madam. Clo. -Nay, madam, I have brought you some near relations of my own too This Don Antonio, who will shortly have the honour to call you daughter. Ant. The young rogue has made a pretty choice, 'faith. Clo. This Don Charino, who was very near having the honour of calling me son. This my wife that should have been. This my elder brother and this my noble uncle, Don Choleric Snapshorto de Testy. Don L. Puppy! Clo. Peevish! Do7i L. Madam, I wish you joy, with all my heart ; but truly, I can't much advise you to marry this gen- tleman ; because, in a day or two, you'll really find him extremely shocking : those that know him, ge- nerally give him the title of Don Dismallo Thick- scuUo de Halfwitto. Clo. Well said, nuncle, ha ! ha ! Enter Servant, and Don Duart as a Priest. Serv. Madam, the priest is come. Elv. Let him wait, we have no occasion yet. Gov. You have surprised us, madam, by this sud- den marriage. Elv. I may yet surprise you more, my lord. Gov. Sir, don't you think you r bride looks melan- choly ? Clo. Ay, poor fool, she's modest but I have a cure for that Well, my princess, why that de- mure idok now ? Elv. I was thinking, sir Clo. I know what you think of You don't think at all You don't know wliat to think. You neither see, hear, feel, smell, nor taste You ha'n't the right use of oneofyoursenses Inshort, you have it. Now, my princess, have not I nicked it ? G ^4 I.OVE MAKES A MAN. lACT V. Elv. I ameorry, sir, you know so little of yourself, or me. Within, there- seize him ! [^Several Officers rush iftj toho seize Clodio, and bind him, DonD. Ha! Gov. What can this mean ? Clo, Gad's me ! What, is my deary in her frolics al- ready ? Elv. And now, ray lord, your justice on that mur- derer. Gw. How, madam ! Clo. That bitch, my fortune ! Don L' Madam, upon my knees, I beg you don't carry the jest too far ; but if there be any real hopesT of his having a halter, let's know it in three words, that I may be sure at once for ever, that no earthly thing | but a reprieve can save him. [Aside fo Elvira, i Ant. Pray, madam, who accuses him ? Elv. His own confession, sir. Cha. Of murder say you, madam ? Eh, The murder of my brother. Don D. She is innocent, and well has disappointed my revenge. [Aside, Don L, So, now I am a little easy the puppy will be hanged. Gov. Give me leave, madam, to ask you yet some farther questions. Clo. Ay, 1 shall be hanged, I believe. Cha. Nay, then, 'tis time to take care of my daugh- ter ; for I am convinced that my friend Clody is dis- posed of and so, without compliment, do you see, children. Heaven bless you together. [Joints Carlos' anof Angelina's Hands. Car. This, sir, is a time unfit to thank you as we ought. Ant. Well, brother, I thank you, however : Charles is an honest lad, and well deserves her; but poor Clody's ill fortune I could never have suspected. SCENE II.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 75 JDen L. Why, you would be positive, though you know, brother, I always told you. Dismal would be hanged ; I must plague him a little, because the dog has been pert with me Clody, how dost thou do i Ha ! why, you are tied ! Clo. I hate this old fellow, split me ! Don L. Thou hast really made a damned blunder here, child, to invite so many people to a marriage- knot, and instead of that it's like to be one under the left ear. Clo. I'd fain have him die. Don L. Well, my dear, I'll provide thee for thy going olF, however ; let me see, you'll only have oc- casion for a nosegay, a pair of white gloves, and a coffin : look you, take you no care about the surgeons, you shall not be anatomized I'll get the body off with a wet finger Though, methinks, I'd fain see the inside of the puppy, too. Ch. Oh, rot him ! I can't bear this. Don L. Well, I won't trouble you any more now, child ; if I am not engaged, I don't know but I may come to the tree, and sing a stave or two with thee Nay, I'll rise on purpose though you will hardly suffer before twelve o'clock, neither ay, just about twelve you'll be turned off. Clo, Oh, curse consume him ! Gov. I amconvincedi madam ; the fact appears too plain. Don L. Yes, yes, he'll suffer. Gov. \Miat says the gentleman ? Do you confess the fact, sir ? Clo. W^ill it do me any good, my lord ? Gov. Perhaps it may, if you can prove it was not done in malice. Clo. Why, then, to confess the truth, my lord, I did pink him, and am sorry for't j but it was none of xny fault, split me ! 76 LOV:i? MAKES A MAN. [aCT V Elv. Now, my lord, your justice. Do7i D. Hold, madam, that remains In me to give ; for know, your brother lives, and happy in the proof of such a sister's virtue. \^Discovers himself^ Elv. My brother ! Oh, let my wonder speak my joy ! Clo. Hey ! [Clodio and his Friends seem surprisedi Gov. Don Duart ! living and well ! How came this strange recovery ? Don D. My body's health the surgeon has resto- red ; but here's the true physician of the mind ; the hot distempered blood, which lately rendered me of- fensive to mankind, his just resenting sword let forth, which gave me leisure to reflect upon my fol- lies pagt; and, by reflection, to reform. Elv- This is indeed a happy change. Gov. Release the gentleman. Clo. Here, Testy, pr'ythee do as much as untie this a little. Don L. Why, so I will, sirrah r-I find thou hast done a mettled thing : and 1 don't know whether it's worth my while to be shocked at thee any longer. Eh. I ask your pardon for the wrong I have done you, sir ; and blush to think how much I owe you for a brother thus restored. Clo- Madam, your very humble servant ; it's mighty well as it is. Don D. Wc are, indeed, his debtors, both ; and, sis- ter, there's but one way now of bdng grateful. For my sake, give him such returns of love, as he may yet think fit to ask, or you with modesty can answer. Clo. Sir, I thank you ; and when you don't think it impudence in me to wish myself well with your sister, I shall beg leave to make use of your friendship. Don D. Tiiis modesty commends you, sir. Ant. Sir, you have proposed like a man of honour ; and if the lady can but like of it, she shall find those araong us, that will make up a fortune to deserve herj^ SCENE II.] LOVE MAKES A MAN. 77 Car. I wish my brother well ; and as I once offer- ed Iiim to divide my birth-right, I'm ready still to put my words into performance. Don L. Nay, then, since I find the rogue's no longer like to be an enemy to Carlos, 'as far as a few acres go, I'll be his friend too. DonD. Sister! Elv. This is no trifle, brother ; allow me a conve- nient time to think, and if the gentleman continues to deserve your friendship, he shall not much com- plain 1 am his enemy. Don L. So, now it will be a wedding again, 'faith ! Car. Come, my Angelina, Our bark, at length, has found a quiet harbour. And the distressful voyage of our loves. Ends not alone in safety, but reward. Now we unlade our freight of happiness. Of which, from thee alone, my share's derived ; For all my former search in deep philosophy, Not knowing thee, was a mere dream of life : But love, in one soft moment, taught me more Than all the volumes of the learn'd could reach ; Gave me the proof, when Nature's birth began, To what great end th' Eternal form'd a man. [^Exeunt omnes. THE END. THE CARELESS HUSBAND; A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS; By COI4.EY CIBBER, Esa. AS PER70R.A1ED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. PniNTED tNI>ER THE AUTHORITV OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT ROOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCH BALD. LONDON ; l'niNTKI> rOR LONGMAN, IJIRST, REES, ANO OHMt, iMTERNObTER HOV. . T. KaTiMmi Wkiteiriui, luudoM* REMARKS. This play will ever be a memorial of the injustice of Pope. It was CoUey Gibber, the author of this excellent, this moral, comedy, whom Pope made the hero of his "^ Dunciad." Pope, it is said, was an unsuccessful dramatist, and ever after hated both plays and players. This hatred was the genuine product of a disappointed artist, for he hated only the skilful ones. A man of less ta- lent than Gibber, and less favoured by the town, had been too mean for the great poet's vengeance the man, who was already ridiculous, it had been loss of time to ridicule Pope chose the very person, on whom his shafts could make the deepest wound: one, who like Gibber, wrote so much, that he sometimes failed of writing well ; and yet who, at times, wrote so excellent- ly, that reputation was dear to him. As a proof that it was, he did not even affect to disguise the impression which this wanton attack made upon him; and in a letter to the author of" The Dunciad," complaining on the subject, he asserts, that his enemy can give no proof, but that the object of his satire had ever been his B 2 4 REMARKS. ardent admirer. Then, alluding to the miserable ex- cuse given by Pope for this outrage " The dulness of him he assailed"' Gibber thus reasonably and feel- ingly proceeds, " Dulness can be no vice or crimej or is, at worst, but a misfortune, and you ought no more to censure or revile a man for it, than tor his being blind or lame. But, if you please, I vv-ill wave this part of my argument, and, for once, take no advantage of it, but will suppose dulness to be actually criminal, and then wdl leave it to your own conscience to de- clare, whether you really think I am so guilty of it as to deserve the name of the dull fellow jou make me ? Now, if 1 ara called upon to speak from my own conscience on the question, I do, from my heart, so- lemnly declare, that I don't believe you do think so of me. This, I grant, may be vanity in me to say j but, if what I believe is true, what a slovenly con- science do you show your face with !" It is for the reader of* The Careless Husband" to decide at once, whether its author was, or was not, a dunce. In a production, where less weight of argu- ment would be given on the side of the author, it might be deemed impertinent to anticipate the read- er s pleasure of judging tor himself; but the high character ol this play, joined to that which it will in- stantly say in its own defence, banishes all doubt upon the subject. The author must be acquitted by the reader of his accuser's charge and the accuser piust be condemned. *' The Careless Husband" is, as originally written, RIMARKS. 3 very long it contains more pages than most plays^ but, containing more matter too, it seems short in the perusal. The dialogue is so brilliant, at the same time, so very natural, that its force will admit of no augment- ation, even from the delivery of the best actors : nor is tliis admirable work, according to the present demand for perpetual incident, so well calculated to please on the stage, as in the closet. The occurrences, which take place in this drama, are of that delicate, as well as probable kind, that their effect is not sufficiently powerful in the representation whereas, in reading, they come to the heart with infinitely more force, for want of that extravagance, which public exhibition requires. The smaller ave- nues to the mind and bosom are often the surest pas- sages to convey sensations of pain or delight j and the connoisseur in all the little touches of refined nature may here indulge his taste, whilst, as an auditor, he might possibly be deprived of his enjoyment, by the vain endeavour of performers, to display, by imita- tion, that, which only real life can show, or imagina- tion pourtray. Here are no violent passions, such ^ are usually depicted on a stage ; but merely such as commonly govern mankind. Sir Charles's tenderness for his wife is so unforced, and his contempt for his mistresses so undesignedly cool, that an actor must possess the most consummate talents, in the minutiae of his art, before he can affect an audience by the one, or edify them by the other B 3 (5 REMARKS. yet, the first is extremely moving, and the last highly instructive. Nor is there an actress who could utter the cora- mon-place reproaches of Lady Graveairs, most plea- santly unconnected with sense, half so well as the reader's fancy can hear them. Characteristic traits, such as these, too diminutive indeed for the tongue to reveal, or the tar to catch, in a theatre, abound throughout this whole comedy, and seem to have been produced by a judgment somewhat too nice, considering they were meant for dramatic action. It is not the fault of Gibber, if the virtues of Lady Easy appear old to the reader the plagiarism of sub- sequent authors can alone take from the just appear- ance of their originalty. Although every character of this drama (now a hundred years old) is a person of fashion and fa- shion changes perpetually, still every one, here de- scribed, is, at this very time, perfectly fashionable. They talk, they think, they act, they love, and hate, like people of rank to this very day. Change but their dinner hour, from four to seven, and blot out the line, where a lady says, " she is going to church," and every article, in the whole composition, will be per- fectly modern. Gibber's grand foe, even Pope, was compelled to own the merit of this play ; but, then he alleged, it must be written by mere accident. Pope's party went further, and said, that Cibber claijjied that which was not his, but was assuredly written by another. REM AUKS. Gibber's person was iir^ignificantjand his mind ad- dicted to vanity-niistortunfh whicli m'-stly combine. He was, nevertheless, gondnatu red and forgivinL, but he was honoured with the patronage and tVieiid'^bip of the great; and tl-.is, in his occupation ot a player, was an unpardor.able failins," in the eye of his eneniy. That adminss, apparent, proof of his misdoing, he forces me to see and to iorgive it. 10 THE CARELESS HUSBAKD. [aCT I. Enter EDGING. Edg. O madam ! Lady E. What's the matter ? Edg. I have the strangest thing to show your lady- ship such a discovery Lady E. You are reserved to make it without much ceremony, I find. What's the business, pray ? Edg. The business, madam ! 'I have not patience to tell yonj I am out of breath at the very thoughts on't J 1 shall not be able to speak this half hour. Ladj/ E. Not to the purpose, I believe ! but me- thinks you talk impertinently with a great deal of case. Edg. Nay, madam, perhaps not so impertinently as your ladyship thinks ; there is that will speak to lie purpose, I am sure ^A base man [Gives a Letter. Lady E. What is this ! An open letter ! Whence comes it ? Edg. Nay, read it, madam, you will soon guess If these are the tricks of husbands, keep me a maid still, say I. Lady E. [Looking on the Sujierscription] To Sir Charles Easy! Ha! Too well I know this hateful hand. O my heart ! but I must veil my jealousy, which 'tis not fit this creature should suppose I am acquainted with. [Aside.'] This direction is to your master, how came you by it ? Edg. Why, madam, as my master was lying down, after he came in from hunting, he sent me into his dressing-room to fetch his snuff-box out of his waistcoat-pocket, and so as I was searching for the box, madam, there I found this wicked letter from a mistress; which I had no sooner read, but, I declare it, my very blood rose at him again ; raethought I could have torn him and her to pieces. SCEKEl.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. U Lady E. Intolerable ! This odious thing's jealous of him herself, and wants me to join with her in a re- venge upon him Sure I am fallen, indeed ! But 'twere to make me lower yet, to let her think I un- derstand her. [^ Aside, Edg. Nay, pray, madam, read it, you will be out of patience at it. iMdy E. You are bold, mistress; has my indul- gence, or your master's good humour, flattered you into the assurance of reading his letters ? a liberty I never gave myself Here lay it where you had it immediately should he know of your sauciness, 'twould not be my favour could protect you. lExit Lady Easy. Edg. Your favour! marry come up! sure I don't depend upon your favour ! It's not come to that, I hope. Poor creature don't you think I am my master's mistress for nothing You shall find, ma- dam, I won't be snapped up as I have been Not but it vexes me to think she should not be as uneasy as I. I am sure he is a base man to me, and I could cry my eyes out, that she should not think him as bad to her every jot. If I am wronged, sure she may very well expect it, that is but his wife A conceited thing she need not be so easy, neither I am as handsome as she, I hope Here's my master I'll try whether 1 am to be huff'd by her or no. {.Walks behind* Enter SiR Charles Easy. SirCfuir. So! The day is come again! Life but rises to another stage, and the same dull journey i before us. How like children do we judge of hap- piness ! When I was stinted in my fortune, almost every thing was a pleasure tome, because mostthinga then being out of my reach, I had always the plea- sure of hoping for them; now fortune's in my hand, she is as insipid as an old acquaintanc^-^It is mighty i3 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT Irf sillvi feith. Just the same thing by toy wife, too; I am told she is extremely handsoine nay, and have heard a great n)ctny people say, she is certainly the best woman in the world Why, I don't know but she may, yet I conld never find that her person or good qualities gave me any concern Tn my eye, the woman has no more charms than .r^y mother. Eds:,. Hum! he tai'vcs no notice ot me yet I'll let him see I can take as little notice of him \^She ualktt by him gnndy; he turns her about, and holds her; she sti i/g!>,/es.'\ Pray, sir ! 6ir Char. A pretty pert air, that I'll humour it What's the matter, child ? Are not you well ? Kiss me, hussy. Edg. No, the deuce fetch me if I do. Sir Char. Has any thing put thee out of humour, love ? Eig. No, sir, 'tis not worth my being out of humour at though if ever you have any thing to say to me again, I'll be burned. Sir Char. Somebody has belied me to thee Edg No, sir, 'tis you have belied yourself to me. Did not I ask you, when you first made a fool of me, if you would be always constant to me , and did not you say, i might be sure you would ? And here, instead of that, you are going on in your old in- trigue v/ith my l^dy Graveairs. Sir Char. So ' , Edg. Beside, don't you suffer my lady to huff me every day as if I were her dog, or had no more concern with you ? I declare I won't bear it, and she shan't thuik to huff me toraaght I know I am as agreeable as she ; and though she dares not take any iiotice of your baseness to her, you shan't think lo use me so and so pray lake your nasty letter [Gives ^] I know the hand well enough :<>r my part i won't stay in the tamily, to be abu-.ed at this rate: I that have refused ^ords and dukes fur your sake ! I'dhavs SCE"NE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 13 you to know, sir, I have had as many blue and green ribbons after me, for aught I know, as would have made me a falbala apron. Sir Char. My Lady Graveairs ! my nasty letter ! and I won't stay in the family! Death! j'm in a pretty condition ! What an unlimited privilege has this jade got from being a Edg. I suppose, sir, you think to use every body as you do your wife ! Sir Char. My wife, hah ! Come hither, Mrs. Edg- ing ; hark, you drab. IScizii/g her by the Shoulder. Edg. Oh !, Sir Char. When you speakof my wife, you are to say your lady, and you are never to speak of your lady to me in any regaril of her being my wife for look you. child, you are not her strumpet, but mine ; therefore I only give you lea\e to be saucy with me. In the next place, you are never to suppose there is any such a person as my Lady Graveairs; and lastly, my pretty one, how came you by this letter ? Edg. it's no matter, perhaps. Sir Char. Ay, but if you should not tell me quick- ly, how are you sure I won't taxe a great piece of flesh out of your shoulder, my dear ? [Shakes her. Edg. O lud! O lud ! 1 will tell you, sir. Sir Char. Quickly then Edg. Oh ! I took it out of your pocket, sir. Sir Char. When ? Edg. Oh ! this morning, when you sent me for your snuff-box. Sir Char. And your ladyship's pretty curiosity has looked it over, I presume ha [Shalus her again. Edg. Olud! dear sir, don't be angry indeed I'll never touch one again. 6/r Char, i don't believe you will, and i'il tell you how you shall be sure you never will. Edg. Yes, sir. Sir Char. By stedfastly believing, that the next e 14 THE CARELXSS HUSBAND. [aCT I, time you offer it, you will have your pretty white neck twisted behind you. Edg. Yes, sir, [^Courtesying. Sir Char. And you will be sure iX3 remember every thing I have said to you ? Edg. Yes, sir. Sir Char. And now, child, I was not angry with your person, but your follies , which, since 1 find you are a little sensible of don't be wholly discouraged for I believe I 1 shall have occasion for you again / Edg. Yes, sir. Sir Char. In the mean time, let me hear no more of your lady, child. Edg. No, sir. Sir Char. Here slie comes : begone. Edg. Yes, sir Oh ! 1 was never so frightened in my life. {^F.xif. Sir Char. So ! good discipline makes good soldiers. It often puzzles me to think, from my own care- lessness, and my wife's continual good hujnour, whe- ther she really knows any thing of the strength of ET^y forces I'll sitt her a little. Enter Lady Easy. My dear, how do you do ? You are dressed very early to-day : are you going out ? Ludy E. Only to church, my dear. Sir Char, is it so late then ? Ladj/ E. The bell has just rung. Sir Char. Well, child, how does Windsor air agree with you ? Do you find yourself any better yet? or have you a mind to go to London again ? Lady E. No, indeed, my dear; the air is so very pleasant, that if it were a place of less company, I could be content to end my days here. Sir Char. Pr'ythee, my dear, what sort of company would most please you i SCIITi; I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. IS Ladu E. When business would permit it, yours j and in your absence a sincere friend, that were truly happy in an honest husband, to sit a cheerful hour, and talk in mutual praise of our condition. Sir Char. Are you then really Very happy, my dear ? Xij/ E. Why should you question it ? [^Smiling on him. Sir Char. Because I fancy I am not so good to you as I should be. Ladi/ E. Pshaw. Sir Char. Nay, the deuce take me if I don't really confess myself so bad, that 1 have often wondered how any woman of your sense, rank, and person, could think it worth her while to have so many useless good qualities. Ladii E. Fie, my dear. Sir Char. By my soul I am serious. Lady E. I cannot boast of my good qualities j nor, if I could, do I believe you think them useless. Sir Char. Nay, I submit to you Don't you find them so ? Do you perceive, that I am one tittle the better husband, for your being so good a wife? Ladj/ E. Pshaw ! you jest with me. Sir Char. Upon my life I don't ^Tell me truly, was you never jealous of me ? Ladi/ E. Did 1 ever give you any sign of it ? S':r Char, Um that's true ; but do you really think I never gave you occasion ? Lady E. That's an odd question ^but suppose you had? Sir Char. Why then, what good has your virtue done you J since all the good qualities of it could not keep me to yoi;rself ? Lady E. What occasion have you given me to sup- pose I have not kept you to myself ? Sir Char. 1 givenyou occasion Fie! my dear ^you may be sure I look you, that is not the thing, but c2 l6 THE CARELESS nUSnAND, [aCT 1, Still a (Death ! what a blunder have I made!) a still, I say, madam, you shan t make me believe you have never been jealous of me ; not that you ever had any real cause, but I know women of your principles have more pride than those that have no principles at all : and where there is pride, there must be some jealou-sy so that if you are jealous, my dear, you know you wrong me, and ! adij E. Why then, upon my word, my dear,/ X don 't know that ever 1 wronged you that way in my life. Sir Char. But suppose I had given a real cause to be jealous, how would you do then ? Lady E. It must be a very substantial one that makes me jealous. Sir Char. Say it were a substantial one ; suppose now I were well with a woman of your own acquaint- ance, that, under pretence of frequent visits to you, should only come to carry on an aftair with me sup- pose now my Lady Graveairs and I were ^reat ? iMdq E. Would I could not suppose it ! \_Aside. Sir Char. If 1 come off here, 1 believe I am pretty safe. \_Aside.^ Suppose, I say, ray lady and Iwercso very familiar, that not only yourself, but half the town should see it ? Lady E. Then I should cry myself sick in some dark closet, and forget my tears, when you spoke kindly to me. Sir Char. The most convenient piece of virtue sure that ever wife was mistress of ! [Aside. Lady E. But pray, my dear, did you ever think that . had any ill thoughts of my Lady Graveairs ? Sir Char. O tie, child ! only you know she and I used to be a little free sometimes ; sal had a mind to see if Nou thought there was any harm in it; but since I find you very easy, I think myself obliged to tell you, that upon my soul, my dear, I have so iittle regard to her person, that the deuce take me. SCENE I.] THB CAKELESS HUSfeAND. 1/ if I would not as soon have an aft'air with thy wo- man. Lady E. Indeed, my dear, I should as soon suspect you with one as t'other. Sir Char. Poor dear should'st thou ? give me a kiss. LafJy E. Pshaw ! you don't care to kiss me. Sir Char. By my soul I do 1 wish I may die, if I don't think you a very fine woman. Lady E. I only wish you would think me a good wife, {^Kisses //er.'j But pray, my dear, what has made yon so strangely inquisitive? .SVr (7/(7/-. Inquisitive Why a Idon'tknow; one is always saying one foolish thing or another Tol le roll. [Sings and ia'ks.'\ My dear. What ! are we never to have any ball here ? loll le roll. I fancy I could recover my dancing again, if 1 would but practise. Toil loll loll! Lady E. This excess of carelessness to me excuses half his vices. If I can make him once think seri- ously Time yet may be my friend. Enter Servant. Sere. Sir, Lord Morelove gives his sen'ice Sir Char. Lord Morelove r where is he ? Serv. At the chocolate house ; he called me to him, as I went by, and bid me tell your honour he'll wait upon you presently. Lodi/ E. I thought you had not expected him here again this season, my dear. Sir Char. I thought so too, but you see there's no depending upon the resolution of a man that's in love. Lady E. Is there a chair ? Strv. Yes, madam. [ErzV Servant. Lady E. I suppose lady Betty Modish has drawn hina hither. C3 18 THE CARELESS HUSBAXD. [aCT I. Sir Char. Ay, poor soul, for all his bravery, I am afraid so. Z/fl'/y E. Well, my dear, I ha'n't time to ask my lord bow he does now ; you'll excuse me to him, but I hope you'll make him dine with us. Sir Char. I'll ask him. If you see Lady Betty at prayers, make her dine too : but don't take any no- tice of my lord's being in town. Lady P.. Very well ! If I should not meet her there, I'll call at her lodgings. Sir Char. Do so. Ladt/ E. My dear, your servant. [Exit Lady Easy. Sir Char. My dear, I'm yours. Well ! one way or other, this woman will certainly bring about her business with me at last ; for though she cannot make me happy in her own person, she lets me be so into- lerably easy with the women that can, that she has at least brought me into a fair way of being as weary of them too. Efc;- Servant and Lord Morelove. SeiT. Sir, my lord's come. [Exit Servant. Lord M. Dear Charles ! Sir Char. My dear lord ! this is an happiness un- dreamt of} I little thought to have seen you at Wind- sor again this season! 1 concluded, of course, that books and solitude had secured you till winter. Lord M. Nay, 1 did not think of coming myself, but I found myself not very well in London, so I thought a little hunting and this air Sir Char. Ha! ha ! iia ! Lord M. What do you laugh at ? Sir Char. Only because you should not goon witli your story : if you did but see how silly a man fum- bles for an excuse, when he is a little ashamed of SCENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 1^ being in love, you would not wonder what I laugh at j ha! ha! ha ! Lord M. Thou art a very liappy fellow nothing touches thee always easy Then you conclude I follow Lady Betty again ? Sh- Char. Yes, faith do I ; and, to make you easy, my lord, I cannot see why a man that can ride fifty miles after a poor stag should be ashamed of running twenty in chase of a fine woman, that, in all proba- bility, will show him so much the better sport too. Lord M. Dear Charles, don't flatter my distemper j I own I srill follow her : do you think her charms have power to excuse me to the world ? Sir Char. Ay, ay, a fine woman's an excuse for any thing, and the scandal of our being in jest, is a jest itself J we are all forced to be their fools, before we can be their favourites. Lord AL You are willing to give me hope; but I can't believe she has the least degree of inclination for me. Sir Char. I don't know that I am sure her pride likes you, and that's generally your fine ladies' darling passion. Lord M. Do you suppose, if I could grow indiffe- rent, !t would touch her ? Sir Char. Sting her to the heart Will you take my advice ? Lord M. I have no relief but that. Had I not thee now and then to talk an hour, my life were insup- portable. Sir Char. I am sorry for that, my lord; but mind what I say to you but, hold, first let me know the particulars of your late quarrel with her. Lord M.Why, about three weeks ago, when I was last here at Windsor, she had for some days treated me with a little more reserve, and another with more freedom than I found myself easy at. 20 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT 1. Sir Char. Who was that other ? Lord M. One of my Ivord Foppington's gang he that sings himself among the women What do you call him He won't speak to a commoner, when a lord i$ in company Startup, that's his name. Sir Char. O! 1 have met him in a visit but pray go on. Lord M. So, disputing with her about the conduct of women, I took the liberty to tell her how far I thought she erred in hers ; she told me I was rude, and that she would never believe any man could love a woman, that thought her in the wrong in any thing she had a mind to, at least if he dared to tell her so Thi provoked me into her whole character, with so much spirit and civil malice, as [ have seen her be- stow upon a woman of true beauty, when the men first toasted her ; so in the middle of my wisdom, she told me, she desired to be alone; that I would take my odious proud heart along with me, and trouble her no more 1 bowed very low, and, as I left the room, vowed 1 never would, and that my proud heart should never be humbled by the outside of a fine woman About an hour after, 1 v.hipped into my chaise for London, and have never seen her since. Sir Char. Very well, and how did you find your proud heart by that time you got to Hounslow ? Lord M. I am almost ashamed to tell you I found her so much in the right, that I cursed my pride for contradicting her at all, and began to think, accord- iug to her maxim, that no woman could be in tha wrong to a man that she had in her power. Sir Char. Ha! ha! Well, I'll tell you what yo\i shall do. You can see her without trembling", I hope. Lord M. Not if she receives me well. Sir Char. If she receives you well, you will have no occaiion for what I am going to say to you first you si'.all dine with her. SCENE 1.] THE CARELESS HUSBAKD. 21 Lord M. How ! where ! when ! Sir Char . Here ! here ! at five o'clock. Lord M. Dear Charles ! Sir Char. My wife is gone to invite her; when you see her first, be neither too humble nor too stubborn; let her see, by the ease in your behaviour, you are still pleased in being near her, while she is upon rea- sonable terms with you. This will either open the door of an eclaircissenient, or quite shut it against you and if she is still resolved to keep you out . Lord M. Nay, if she insults me, then, perhaps, I may recover pride enough to rally her by an over- acted submission. Sir Chir. Why, you improve, ray lord : this is the very thing I was going to propose to you, Jjurd M. Was it, iaith ! hark ycu, dare you stand by me ? Sir Char. Dare I ! ay, to my last drop of assurance against all the insolent airs of the proudest beauty in Christendom. Li)rd M. Nay, then dcfi:ince to her We two Tiiou hast inspired me I find myself as valiant as a flattered coward. Sir Char. Courage, mylord I'll warrant webeat her. Lord M. My blood stirs at the very thought on't : I long to be engaged. Sir Char. She will certainly give ground, when she once sees you are thoroughly provoked. Lord M. Dear Charles, thou art a friend indeed. E/i(er a Servant. Serv. Sir, my Lord Foppington gives his service ; and if your honour's at leisure, he'll wait on you as soon as he is dressed. Luid M. Lord Foppington ! Is he in town ? 22 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT I? Sir Char, Yes, I heard last night he was come. Give my service to his lordship, and tell him, I should be glad he will do nie the honour of his company here at dinner. \_Exit Servant.] We may have occasion for him in our design upon Lady Betty. Lord M. What use can we make of him ? Sir Char. We'll ses, when he comes j at least there is no danger in him ; but 1 suppose you know he is your rival. Lord M. Pshaw ! a coxcomb. Sir Char. Nay, don't despise him, neither he is able to give you advice j for though he is in love with the same woman, yet to him she has not charms enough to give a minute's pain. Lord M. Pr'ythee, whnt sense has he of love ? Sir Char. Faith, very near as much as a man of sense ought to have j I grant you he knows not how to value a woman truly deserving, but he has a pretty just esteem for most ladies about town. Lord M. That he follows, I grant you for he sel- dom visits any of extraordinary reputation. Sir Char. Have a care, I have seen him at Lady Betty Modish's. Lord M, To be laughed at. Sir Char. Don't be too confident of that; the wo- men now begin to laugh with him, not at him : for he really sometimes rallies his own humour with so much ease and pleasantry, that a great many women begin to think he has no follies at all, and those he has have been as much owing to his youth, and a great estate, as want of natural wit : 'tis true, he often is a bubble to his pleasures, but he has always been wisely vain enough to keep himself from being too much the ladies' humble servant in love. Lord M. There, indeed, i almost envy him. Sir Char. The easiness of his opinion upon the sex will go near to j)ique you We must have him. SCENE 1.3 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 23 Lord M. As yoa please but what shall we do with ourselves till dinner ? Str Char. What think you of a party at piquet ? Lord M. O ! you are too hard for me. Sir Char. Fie ! fie! when you play with his Grace? Lord M. Upon my honour, he gives me three points. Sir Char. Does he? whj then you shall give me but two Here, fellov/, get cards. AUons. {^Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE 1. Lady Betty Modisii's Lodgings. Enter Lady Betty and Lady Easy, meeting. Lady B. Oh, my dear ! I am overjoyed to see you ! I am strangely happy to-day ; I have just received wf new dress from London, and you are most critically come to give me your opinion of it. Ladij E. Oh, your servant, madam, I am a very in- different judge, you know. What is it like ? Ladjf B. Oh, 'tis impossible to tell you what it is ! Tis all extravagance, both in mode and fancy, my dear. I believe there's six thousand yards of edg- ing in it Iben such an enchanting slope from the elbow something so new, so lively, so noble, so co- quette and charming but you shall see it, my dear Ludif E. Indeed, I won't, my dear ; 1 am resolved 2i THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [ACT II. to mortify you, for being so wrongfully fond of a trifle. Lafl^ B. Nay, now, my dear, you are ill-natured. Lady E. Why, truly, I'm half angry to see a wo- man of your sense, so warmly concerned in the care of her outside 5 for, when we have taken our best pains about it, 'tis the beauty of the mind alone that gives us lasting virtue. . Lady B. Ah, my dear ! my dear ! you have been a married woman to a fine purpose indeed, that knovr so little of the taste of mankind. Take my word, a new fashion upon a fine woman, is often a greater proof of her value, than you are aware of. Lady E. That I can't comprehend ; for you see among the men, nothing's more ridiculous than anew fashion. Those of the first sense are always the last that come into them. Lady B. Ihat is, because the only merit of a man is his sense : but doubtless the greatest value of a wo- man is her beauty ; an homely woman at the head of a fashion would not be allowed in it by the men, and consequently not followed by the women : so that to be successful in one's fancy, is an evident sign of one's being admired, and 1 always take admiration for the best proof of beauty, and beauty certainly is the source of power, as power in all creatures is the height of happiness. Lady E. At this rate you would rather be thought beautiful than good. Lady B. As I had rather command than obey ; the wisest homely woman can't make a man of sense of a fooi, but the veriest fool of a beauty shall make an ass of a statesman ; so that, in short, 1 can't see a woruan of spirit has any business in this world but to dress and make the men like her. Lady E. Do you suppose this is a principle th men of sense will admire you for ! SCE\E I.] THE CARELESS HUSB.V^'D. , 23 Lady B. I do suppose, that when I suffer any man to like my person, he sha'n't dare to find fault with my principle. Lady E. But men of sense are not so easily hum- bled. Lady B. The easiest of any ; one has ten thousand times the trouble with a coxcomb. Lady E. Nay, that jnay be ; for I have seen you throw away more good humour, in hopes of tcndrcsse from my Lord Foppington, who loves all women alike, than would have made my Lord Morelove per- fectly happy, who loves only you. Lady B. The men of sense, my dear, make the best fools in the world : their sincerity and good breeding throws them so entirely into one's power, and gives one such an agreeable thirst of using them ill, to show that power 'tis impossible not to quench it. Lady E. But, methinks, my Lord MoreMve's manner to you might move any woman to a kinder sense of his merit. jMdy B. Ay, but would it not be hard, my dear, for a poor w'eak woman to have a man of his quality and reputation in her power, and not to let the world see him there ? would any creature sit new dressed all day in her closet ? Could you bear to have a sweet fancied suit, and never show it at the play, or the drawing-room ? Lady t. But one would not ride in't methinks, or harass it out, when there's no occasion. Lady B. Pooh ! my Lord iVIorelove's a mere In- dian damask, one can't wear him out ! o'my consci- ence I uHist give him to my woman at last. Lady E. Now 'tis to me amazuig, how a man of his spirit can bear to be used like a dog for four or five years together but nothing's a wonder in love. Yet pray when you found you could rot like him at first, why did you ever encourage him ,-" l D 26 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT II. Lady B. Why, what would you have one do ? for my part, I could no more chuse a man by my eye, than a shoe : one must draw them on a little, to see if they are right to one's foot. Ladi/ E. But I'd no more fool on with a man I could not like, than I'd wear a shoe that pinched me. Lady B. Ay, but then a poor wretch tells one, he'll widen 'em, or do any thing, and is so civil and silly, that one does not know how to turn such a trifle as a pair of shoes, or an heart, upon a fellow's hands again. Lady E. Well 5 I confess you- are very happily dis- tinguished among most women of fortune, to have a man of my Lord Morelove's sense and quality so long and honourably in love with you ; for now-a-days one hardly ever hears of such a thing as a man of quality in love with the woman he would marry. To be in love now, is only to have a design upon a wo- man, a modish way of declaring war against her vir- tue, which they generally attack first, by toasting up her vanity. Lady b. Ay, but the world knows, that is not the case between my lord and me. Lady E. Therefore I think you happy. Lady B. Now I don't see it; I'll swear I'm better pleased to know there are a great many foolish fel- lows of quality that take occasion to toast me fre- quently. Lady E. I vow I should not thank any gentlemen for toasting me, and have often wondered how a woman of your spirit could bear a great many other freedoms I have seen, some men take v/ith you. Lady B. As how, my dear ! Come, pr'ythee, be free with me, for, you must know, I love dearly to hear my faults Who is't you have observed to be too free with me? Lff//j/ E. Why, there's my Lord Foppington; could any woman but you bear to see him with a respectful SCENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 27 fleer stare full in her face, draw up his breatli, and cry Gad, you're handsome ? Lady B. My dear, fine fruit will have flies about it; but, poor things, they do it no harm: for, if you observe, people are generally most apt to chuse that, the flies have been busy with, ha ! ha ! ha ! Lady E. But I should not think my reputation safe ; my Lord Foppington's a man that talks often of his amours, but seldom speaks of favours that are refused him. Lady B. Pshaw ! will any thing a man says make a woman less agreeable? will his talking spoil one's complexion, or put one's hair out of order? ,A fine woman is never in the wrong, or, if we were, 'tis not the strength of a poor creature's reason that can unfetter him. Oh, how I love to hear a wretch curse himself for loving on, or now and then coming out with a Yet for the plague of human race. This devil has an angel's face ! JLady E, At this rate, I don't see you allow repu- tation to be at all essential to a fine woman. Lady B. Just as much as honour to a great man. Indeed, my dear, that jewel, reputation, is a very fanciful business! one shall not see an homely crea- ture in town, but wears it in her mouth as mon- strously as the Indians do bobs at their lips, and it really becomes them just alike. Lady E. Have a care, my dear, of trusting too far to power alone ; for nothing is more ridiculous than the fall of pride; and woman's pride at best may be suspected to be more a distrust, than a real contempt of mankind: for when we have said all we can, a deserving husband is certainly our best happiness ; and I don't question but my Lord Morelove's merit, in a little time, will make you think so too ; for what- D2 2S THE CARELESS IIUSnAND. [aCT IT. ever airs you give yourself to the world, I'm sure your heart don't want good nature. Lady B. You are mistaken j 1 am very illnatured, though your good humour won't let you see it. Lady E. Then, to give me a proof on't, let me see you refuse to go immediately and dine with me, after I have promised Sir Charles to bring you. Lady B. Pray don't ask me. Lady E. Why? Lady B. Because, to let you see I hate good na- ture, I'll go without asking, that you mayn't have the malice to say, I did you a favour. Lady E. Thou art a mad creature. \Exeunt. SCENE II, Sir Charles's Lodo-hws. o O LoRO MoRELovE and Siii Charles at Piqhet, Sir Char. Come, my lord, one single game for the tout, and so have done. Lorri SJ. Ko, hang em, I have enough of 'em ! ill cards are the dullesL company in the world How much is it ? Sif Char. Three parties. Lord M. Fifteen pounds very well. \_[i'hi/c LoHD Moi. r.LOVE couiit.'^ Old his Money, a Servant gn-cs Ssr CriARLts Letter, w/iich he reads to hiniself. _, Sir Chnr. [7o the SERVANT.] Give my servioej say, I have company dines with aiej if 1 have time, J'il call there in the afternoon ha! ha! ha! ILxu Servant. SCENE II.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 29 Lord M. What's the matter ? there \_Paymg the Money, Sir Char. The old affair my Lady Giaveairs. Lord M. Oh ! Pr'ythee how does that go on ? Sir Char. As agreeably as a Chancery suit: for now it's come to the intolerable plague of my not being able to get rid on't; as'you may see [_Giving the Letter. Lord 3L [Reads.] Yoiir behaviour since I came to Windsor has convinced me of your xiillainy, without my being surprised or angry at it. I desire you xvoidd let me see you at my lodgings imtnediatcly, where I shall have a better opportunity to convince you, that I never can, or positively will, be us I have been. Yours, SfC. A very whimsical letter! Faith, I think she has hard luck with you: if a man were obliged to have a mis- tress, her person and condition seem to be cut out for the ease of a lover : for she's a young, handsome, wild, well-jointured widow But what's your quar- rel? .'>Vr Char. Nothing: she sees the coolness happens to be first on my side, and her business with me now, I suppose, is to convince me how heartily she's vexed that she was not beforehand with me. Lord M. Her pride and your indifference must oc- casion a pleasant scene, sure; what do you intend to dor Sir Char. Treat her with a cold familiar air, till I pique her to forbid me her sight, and then take her at her word. Lord M. Very gallant and provoking. Enter a Servant. Serv. Sir, my Lord Foppington \_Exit. Sir Char. Oh now, my lord, if you have a mind to be let into the mistery of making love without pain, D 3 30 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCTII. here's one that's a master of the art, and shall de- claim to you Enter Lokd Foppington. My dear Lord Foppington! Lord f. My dear agreeable! Que je f embrasse ! Pardi ! 11 y a cent n/is qi'i je ne fai vii my lord, I am your lordship's most obedient humble servant. Ixird .\j . My lord. I kiss }-our hands I hope we shall have you here sometime; you seem to have laid in a >-tock of laeahh to be at the diversions of the place You look extremely well. Lord f. To see one's friends look so, my lord, may easily give a rmufille to one's complexion. Sir Ui.ir. Lovers in hope, my lord, always have a visible brilliant in their eyes and air. L'trd F. What dost thou mean, Charles ? Sir Char. Come, come, confess what really brought you to Windsor, now you have no business there? Lord F. Why two hours, and six of the best nags in Christendom, or the devil drive me. Ly/v/ .ly. You make haste, my lord. Lord F. My lord, I always fly when I pursue But they are well kept, indeed 1 love to have creatures go as I bid them; you have seen them, Charles; bat so has all the world; Foppington's long tails are known on every road in England. Sir Char. Well, my lord, but how came they to bring you this road? You don't use to take these ir- regular jaunts without .some design in your head of having more than nothing to do. Lord F. Pshaw! Pox! pr'ythee, Charles, thou knowest I am a fellow sans consccjuencc, be where I will. Sir Char. Nay, nay, this is too much, among friends, my lord; Come, come, we must have it: your real business here r Lord F. Why then, cntre nous, there is a certain fille dc joic about the court, here, that loves winning SCENE II.J THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 31 at cards better than all the fine things I have been able to say to her so I have brought an odd thousand bill in my pocket, that I design, iete-d-ftte, to play off with her at piquet, or so j and now the business is out. Sir Char. Ah, and a very good business too, my lord. Lord F. If it be well done, Charles Sir Char. That's as you manage your cards, my lord. Lord ]\L This must be a woman of consequence, by the value you set upon her favours. Sir Char. Oh, nothing's above the price of a fine woman. Lord F. Nay, look you, gentlemen, the price may not happen to be altogether so high, neither For I fancy 1 know enough of the game to make it an even bet I get her for nothing. Lunl M. How so, my lord ? Lord F. Because, if she happen to lose a good sum to me, I shall buy her with her own money. Lord M. That's new, I confess. Lord F. You know, Charles, 'tis not impossible but I may be five hundred pounds deep with her then bill* may fall short, and the devil's in't if 1 want as- surance to ask her to pay some way or other. Sir Char. And a man must be a churl indeed, that won't take a lady's personal security 3 hah! iiah! hah! Lord F. Heh! heh ! heh ! thou art a devil, Charles. Lord M. Death ! how happy is this coxcomb! \_Aside. Lord F. But, to tell you the truth, gentlemen, I had another pressing temptation that brought me hi- ther, which was my wife. Lord M. I'hat's kind, indeed; my lady has been here this month; she'll be glad to see you. 32 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. ^ACT II. Lord F. That I don't know ; for I design this af- ternoon to send her to London. Lord M. What ! the same day you come, my lord ! that would be cruel. lA)rd F. Ay, but it will be mighty convenient ; for she is positively of no manner of use in my amours. Lord M. That's your fault ; the town thinks her a \ery deserving woman. Lord F. If she were a woman of the town, per- haps I should think so tooj but she happens to be my vife, and when a wife is once given to deserve more than her husband's inclinations can pay, in my mind bhe has no merit at all. Lord M. She's extremely well bred, and of a very prudent conduct. Lord F. Urn ay the woman's proud enough. Lord iV. Add to this, all the world allows her liandsome. Lord F. The world's extremely civil, my lord; and I should take it as a favour done me, if they could find an expedient to unmarry the poor woman from the only man in the world that can't think her hand- some. Lord M. I believe there are a great many in the world that are soiry 'tis not in their power to unmarry her. Lord F. I am a great many in the world's very humble servant, and whenever they find 'tis in their power, their high and mighty wisdoms may command me at a quarter of an hour's warning. Lord M. Pray, my lord, what did you marry for ? Lord F. To pay my debts at play, and disinherit my younger brother. Lord M. But there are some things due to a wife. Lord F. And there are some debts I don't care to pay to both which I plead husband, and my lord. LordM. If I should do so, I should expect to have SCENE II.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 33 my own coach stopped in the street, and to meet my wife with the windows up in a hackney. Lord F. Then would I put in bail, and order a se- parate maintenance. Lurd M. So pay the double the sum of the debt, and be married for nothing. Lord F. Now, I think, deferring a dun, and get- ting rid of one's wife, are two the most agreeable sweets in the liberties of an English subject. Lord M. If I were married, I would as soon part from my estate as my wife. Lord F. Now, I would not sun-burn me if I would. Lord M. Death! but since you are thus indif- ferent, my lord, why vi^ould you needs marry a wo- man of so much merit? Couid not you have laid out your spleen upon some ill-natured shrew, that wanted the plague of an ill husband, and have let her alone to some plain, honest man of quality, that would have deserved her? ].ord F. Why, faith, my lord, that might have been considered; but I really grew so passionately fond of her fortune, that, curse catch me, I was quite blind to the rest of her good qualities: for, to tell you the truth, if it had been possible the old put of a peer could have tossed me in t'other five thousand for them, by my consent, she should have lelin- quished her merits and virtues to any of her younger sisters. Sir Char. Ay, ay, my lord, virtues in a wife are good for nothing but to make her proud, and put the world in mind of her husband's faults. Lord F. Right, Ciiarles : and, strike me blind, but the women of virtue are now grown such idiots in love, that they expect of a man, just as they do of a coach horse, thai one s appetite, like t'other's flesh, should increase by feeding Sir Char. Right, my lord, and don't consider, that 34 THE CARELESS HUSBAXD. [aCTTI. toujours chapons bouilUs will never do with an English stomach. Lord F. Ha! ha! ha! To tell you the truth, Charles, I have known so much of that sort of eat- ing, that I now think, for an hearty meal, no wild fowl in Europe is comparable to a joint of Banstead mutton. Lord M. How do you mean ? Lord F. Why, that, for my part, I hjid rather have a plain slice of my wife's woman, than my guts full of e'er an ortolan duchess in Christendom. Lord M. But I thought, my lord, your chief busi- ness now at Windsor had been your design upon a woman of quality. Lord F. That's true, my lord; though I don't think your fine lady the best dish myself, yet a man of quality can't be without such things at his table. Lord M. Oh, then you only desire the reputation of an affair with her. Lord F. I think the reputation is the most inviting part of an amour with most women of quality. Lord M. But, my lord, does not the reputation of your being so general an undertaker frighten the wo- men from engaging with you? For they say, no man can love but one at a time. Lord F. That's just one more than ever I came up to: for, stop my breath, if ever I loved one in my life. Lord M. How do you get them, then? Lord F. Why, sometimes as they get other people: I dress, and let them get mej or, if that won't do, as I got my title, I buy thera. Lord M. But how can you, that profess indiffer- ence, think it worth your while to come so often up to the price of a woman of quality r Lord F. Because you must kno\^', my lord, that 'tis not, of late, so very expensive j now and then a partie quarrc, a jaunt or two in a hack to an Indian SCENE II.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 35 house, a little China, an odd thing for a gown, or so, and in three days after, you meet her at the conve- niency of trying it chez Mademoiselle d'Epingle. Sir Char. Ay, ay, my lord, and when you are there, you know, what between a little chat, a dish of tea. Mademoiselle's good humour, and a petit chan~ sort, or two, the devil's in it if a man can't fooiaway the time, till he sees how it looks upon her by candle- light. Lord F. lie! he! well said, Charles, I'gad I fancy thou and I have unlaced many a reputation there Your great lady is as soon undressed as her Vv'oman. Lord M, I could never find it so the shame or scandal of a repulse always made me afraid of at- tempting women of condition. Sir C/ia. Ha! ha! I'gad, my lord, you deserve to be ill used ; your modesty's enough to spoil any wo- man in the world: but my lord and I understand the sex a little better; we see plainly, that women are only cold, as some men are brave, from the modesty or fear of those that attack them. Lord /'. Right, Charles, a man should no more give up his heart to a woman, than his sword to a bully ; they are both as insolent as the devil after it. Sir CItur. How do you like that, my lord? \_jlside to Lord Morelove. Lord M. Faith, I envy him But, my lord, sup- pose your inclination should stumble upon a woman truly virtuous, would not a severe repulse from such an one put you strangely out of countenance? Lord F. Not at all, my lord for if a man don't mind a box o'the e:ir in a fair struggle with a fresh country girl, why the deuce should he be concerned at an impertinent frown for an attack upon a woman of quality? Lord M. Then you have no notion of a lady's cruelty? Lord F. Ha! ha! let me blood, if I tl:ink there's 36 THE CAUELEh.S ilUSBAXD. [aCTII. a greater jest in nature. I am ready to crack my sides with Lughing, to see a senseless flirt, because the creature happens to have a little pride that she calls virtue about her, give herself all the insolent airs of resentment and disdain to an honest fellow, ^that all the while does not care three pinches of snulf if she and her virtue were to run wiih their last favours through the first regiment of guards Ila! ha! it puts me in mind of an affair of mine^ so imperti- nent Lord M. Oh, that's impossible, my lord Pray let's hear it. Lord F. Why, J happened once to be very well in a certain man of quality's family, and his wife liked rae. Lord M. How do you know she liked you ? Lord F. ^^hy, from the very moment I told, her I liked her, she never durst trust herself at the end of a room with me. Lord j)L That might be her not liking you. Lojd I\ My lord Women of quality don't use to speak the thing plain but, to satisfy you I did not want encouragement, ] never came there in ray life, but she did immediately smile, and borrow my snufF- bo.K. LnrdM. J" he liked your snuff at least Well, but how did she u.'^e }0u r Lord F. By all that's infamous, she jilted me. Lord M. How i Jilt you? L<.'/d I'. Ay, death s curse, she jilted me. Lord 2J. 1 ray, let's hear. Lord L. For when I was pretty well convinced she had a mind lo nie, I one day made her a hint of an appointiueni : upon which, with an insolent frown iii her fate, that made her look as ugly as the devil, .she told me, that if ever 1 came thither again, her lord should Inow that she had forbidden me the house belore. Did you ever hear of such a slut? .>// C^'ur. Intolerable! SCENE II.] THE CAHELESS HUSBAND. 37 Lord M. But how did her answer agree with you ? Lord r. Oh, passionately well! fori stared full m her face, and burst out a laughing; at which shs turned upon her heel, and gave a crack with her fan, like a coach-wliip, and bridled out of the room with the air and complexion of an incensed turkey-cock. [./ Si'RVANT ivfiispas SiH Charles. Lfird M. What did you then ? Lord F. I looked after her, gaped, threw up the sash, and fell a singing out of the window so that you see, my i''.d, while a man is not in love, there's no great aftiiction in missing one's way to a woman. Sir Char. Ay, ay, you talk tliis very well, my lord; but now let's see how you dare behave yourself upon action dinner's served, and the ladies stay for us There's one within has been too hard for as brisk a man as yourself. Lord M. I guess who yon mean Have a care^ my lord, she'll prove your courage for you. Lord F. Will she? then she's an undone creature. For, let me tell you, gentlemen, courage is the whole mystery of making love, and of more use than con- duct is in war 5 for the bravest fellow in Europe may beat his brains out against the stubborn walls of a town But -Women, born to be controU'd, Stoop to the forward, and the bold. [Kxcunf. 8S THE Careless husband. [act m. ACT THE THIRD; SCENE I. Sir Charles Easy's Lodgings. Enter Lord Morklove and Sir Charles. Lord M. So! Did not I bear up bravely? Sir Char. Admirably! with tlie best bred insolence in nature, you insulted like a woman of quality when- her country bred husband's jealous of her in the "wrong place. Lord M. Ha ! ha ! Did you observe, when I first came into the room, how carelessly she brushed her eyes over me, and when the company saluted me, stood all the while with her face to the window ? ha ! ha! Well, what's to be done next? Sir Char. Only observe her motions: for, by her behaviour at dinner, I am sure she designs to gall you v/ith my Lord Foppington : if so, you raubt even Stand her tire, and then play my Lady Graveairs upon her, whom I'll immediately pique, and prepare for your purpose. Lord AI. I understand you the properest wo- man in the world too; for she'll certainly encourage the least offer from me, in hopes of revenging her slights upon you. Sir Char. Right j and the very encouragement she gives you, at the same time will give me a pretence lo widen {he breash of my quarrel with her. ^CEXE I.] THE CARELESS IIUSBA-VD. 39 Lord M. Besides, Charles, I own I am fond of any attempt that will forward a misunderstandiir.g there, for your lady's sake. A woman so truly good in her nature ought to have something more from a man^ than bare occasions to prove her goodness. Sir Char. Why, then, upoti honour, my lord, to give ycu proof that I am positively the best husband in the world, my wife never yet found me out. Lord M. That may be by her being the best wife in the world; she, may be, won't find you out. Sir Vhar. Nay, if she won't tell a man of his faults, when she sees them, how the deuce should he mend them ? But, however, you see I am going to leave them off as fast as I can. Lord M. Being tired of a woman, is, indeed, a pretty tolerable assurance of a man's not designing- to fool on with her* Here she comes, and, if I don't mistake, brimful of reproaches You can't take her in a better time I'll leave you. Enter Lady Graveairs. Your lad}'ship's most hun^sble servant. Is the com- pany broke up,, pray? Lady G. No, my lord, tliey are just talking of basset; my Lord Foppington has a mind to tally, if your lordship would encourage the tabie. Lord 31, Oh, madam, witli all my heart ! But Sir Charles, I know, is hard to be got to it; I'll leave jour ladyship to prevail with him. [Exit Lord Moriclove, Sir Charles and Lady Graveairs salatc coldly, and trifle some Time before they sjicak. Lady G. Sir Charles, I sent you a note this morn- ing Sir Char. Yes, madam; but there were some pas- sages I did not expect from your ladyship ; you seem to tax me with things tijat Lady G. LiOuk you, sir, 'tis not at all material whe- J2 40 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [.ACT III, ther I taxed you with any thing or no; all I have to say to you is, that you need not give yourself tlie trouble to call at my lodgings this afternoon, if you should have time, as you were pleased to send me word and so, your servant, sir, that's all [Going. iiir Char. Hold, madam. Ladt/ G. Look you. Sir Charles, 'tis not your call- ing me back that will signify any thing, I can assure you. Sir Char. Why this extraordinary haste, madara ? Lutly G. In short, Sir Charles, I l)ave taken a great many things from you of late, that you know 1 have often told you i would positively bear no longer. But I see things ate in vain, and the more people strive to oblige people, the less they are thanked for it; and since there must be an end of one's ridicu- lousness one time or other, I don't see any time so proper as the present; and therefore, sir, i desire you would think of things accordingly. Your servant. [Going, he holds her. Sir Char. Nay, madam, let us start fair, however; you ought, at least, to stay till J am as ready as your ladyship; and then, if we must part, Adieu, ye silent grots, and shady groves; Ye soft amusements of our growing loves; Adieu, ye whisj;er'd sighs, that fann'd the fire. And all the thrilling joys of young desire. [Affcdcdly. Ladi/ G. Oh, mighty well, sir; I am very glad we are at last come to a right ui;dtrst:ncling, the only way I have long wishtd for ; not but I'd have you to know, I sec your design through ail your painted ease of resignation : I know you'd give your soul to make me um-asy now. Sir Char. Ohj tie, madam ! upon my word I would TiOt make you uneasy, if ii v?re in my power. Lad^/ G. Oh, dear sir, you need not take such care, S^CENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 4l upon my word ; you'll find I can part with you with- out the least disorder; I'll try, at least; and so, once more, and, for ever, sir, your servant: not but you must give me leave to tell you, as ray last thought of you too, that I do think you are a villain. [^Exit hastily. Sir Char. Oh, your veiy humble servant, ma- dam ! \_Boxviiig /oti'.] What a charming quality is a woman's pride, that is strong enough to refuse a man her favours^ when he's weary of them I Ah ! Lnlcr Lady Graveajrs. Lady G. T^ook you, Sir Charles; don't presume upon the easiness of my temper: for, to convince you that I am positively in earnest in this matter, I desire you would let me have what letters you have had of mine since you came to Windsor: and I expect you'll return the rest, as I v/ill yours, as soon as we come to London. Sir Char. Upon my faith, madam, I never keep any ; I always put snuff in them, and so they wear out. Lady G. Sir Charles, I must have them; for, po- sitively, I won't stir without them. Sir Char. Ha! then 1 must be civil, I see. \_/lside.'] Perhaps, madam, 1 have no mind to part with them or you. Lady G. Look you, sir, all those sort of things are in vain, now there's an end of every thing betweejius If you say you won't give them, I must e'en get them as well as I can, / Sir Char. Ha! that won't do then, I find. [^Aside. Lady G. Who's there? Mrs. Edging Your keep* ing a letter, sir, won't keep me, I'll assure you. E/ifcr EiiGlNG. Ldg. Did your ladyship call me, madam ? Lady G. Ay, child: pray do me the favour to fetch my cloak out of the dining-room, 42 THE CARELESS IIUSBAISD. [aCT HI. Edg. Yes, madam. Ila! she looks as if my mas^ter had quarrelled w ith her ; I hope .she's going away in a huff she shan't slay for her cloak. I warrant her This is pure. [Aside. Exit t-n.il/ng. Lady G. Pray, Sir Charles, before 1 go, give me leave, now, after all, to ask you why you have used nie thus ? iSV?- Char. "What is it you call usage, madam? Lad^ G. \A'hY, then, since you will have ir, how comes it you have been so grossly careless and neg- lectful of me of late? Only tell me seriously, wherein I have deserve -! this. Sir Char. Why, then, serious:!)', madam Evier Edging, ti'ith a Cloak. We are interrupted Edg. Here is your ladyship's cloak, madam. Lady G. Thank you, Mrs. Edging Oh, l;iw ! pray Avill yo\i let somebody get nje a chair to the door? F.dg. Humph She might have told me that before, if she had been in .such haste to go. \_Asidc. Exit, J.adu G. Now, sir. Sir Char. 'I hen, seriously, I sny, I am of late grown so very lazy in my pleasures, that I am from hence- forth resolved to follow no j'leasure th.at arises above the degree of amiisemem And ihai woninn, that ex- pects 1 should make her my business, why like my business, is th.en in a fair v\.'ay of beiui-, forgot. When once she comes to reproach Oie with vo\'s and usase, and stuff i had as lief hoar lu r talk of bills, bonds, ard ejectments: her passion beconies as troublesome as a lawsuit, and 1 w(>u;d as soon converse with my olicitor. In short, i shall never care sixpence for any woman that won't be o'oedient. Lad)/ (r. I'll swear, sir, you have a very free way of treating people ; I am glad I am so uell acquainted with your principles, however And you wouUl have n:e obedient."* SCENE I.] THE CARELESS IIUSBAXD. 43 Sir Char. Why not? My wife's so? and T think she has as much pretence to be proud as your ladyship. Lad^ G. L::rd 1 is there no chair to be had, 1 won- der? Enter Edging. F.dg. Here's a chair, m^dam. Ladi! G. 'Ti3 very well, Mrs. Edging: pray, will you let s-rjruebc.dy get me a glass of fair water: Ed'^. f-lunipb Jier huft" is almost over, i suppose I See he"s a villain .still. l^Aiidt. Exit. Ltid': (f. Well, that was the prettiest fa;icy about obedience, sure, that ever was. Certainly, a wo:naa of cx)ncliiicn must be infinitely happy i.ndcr the do- n.inion of so geneious a lover. Bat how came you to fcrget kickiu', and whipping all ihis while? JV/e- ihinks, you should not have left so fashionable an ar- ticle out of your scheme of government. >'ir Chfir. L'm No. there i.s too much trouble in that 5 though I have known them of admirable vise in reiornuition ot some humoursonie gentlewo- men. Ludij G. But one thing more, and I have done Pray, what degree of spirit must the lady have, that is to mnke hei^elf happy iinder so much freedom^ order, and tranquillity? Sir if (II-. Oh. she mrst at least have as much spirit as your ladyship, or she'd give me no pleasure in breaking it. L.-u'ii G. No, that would be troublesome. You had belrer take ciic that's broken to your hand: there are such souls to be hired, J believe ; 1 fancy, at last, that will be t!:e best method for the lazy pi>ssicn of^ married man, that has outlived his any other sense of gratitication. S(r I. liar. Look you, madam; I have loved you very well a great while; now you would have me love you better and longer, which is not in my power to do^ 44' THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT Iir. and I don't think there is any plague upon earth, like a dun, that comes for more money than one is ever likely to be able to pay. Lady G. A dun I do you take me for a dun, sir? Do I come a dunning to you? [IValks in a Hent. Sir Char. Hist! don't expose yourself here's companj Lady G. I care not A dun ! You shall see, sir, 1 can revenge an affront, though I despise the wretch that offers it A dun! Oh, 1 could die with laugh- ing at the fancy! \_Exit. iSir C/tar. So she's in admirable order Here comes my lord ; and, I am afraid, in the very nick x)f his occasion for her. Enter LoKD Morelove. Lo7-dM. Oh, Charles, undone again! all is lost and ruined. Sir Lhar. What's the matter now? Lurd M. I have been playing the fool yonder, even to contempt; my senseless jealousy has confessed a "weakness 1 never shall forgive myself. She has in- sulted on it to that degree too 1 can't bear the thought Oh, Charles, this devil still is mistress of my heart ! and I could dash my brains out to think how grossly too I have let her know it. Sir Char. Ah, how it would tickle her, if she saw you in this condition ! ha! ha ! ha! Lord M. Pr'ythee don't torture me: think of some present ease, or I shall burst. Sir Char. Well, well, let's hear, pray What has she done to you? Ha! ha! Lord M. Why, ever since I left you, ^;'ie has treated me with so much coolness and illnu.'Vjre, and that thing of a lord, with so much laughing ease, and such a spiteful familiarity, that, at the last, bhe saw, and iriuniphed in roy uneasiness. SCENn 1.] THE CAUELESS HUSBAKD. 45 Sir Char. Well, and so you left the room in a pet, Ha! Lord M. Oh, worse, worse still ! for^ at last, v/ith half shame and anger in my looks, I thrust myself between my lord and her, pressed her by the hand, and, in a whisper, trembling, begged her, in pity of herself and me, to show her good humour only where she knew it was truly valued: at which she broke from me with a cold smile, sat her down by the peer, whispered him, and burst into a loud laughter in my face. iar Char. Ha, ha! then would I have given fifty pounds to have seen your face. Why, what in the "name of common sense had you to do with humility? Will you never have enough on't? Death! 'twas set- ting a lighted match to gunpow^der, to blow your- self up. l.ord M. I see my folly now, Charles. But what shall I do with the remains of life, that she has left me? Sir Char. Oh, throw it at her feet, by all means ! put on your tragedy face, catch fast hold of her pet- ticoat, whip out your handkerchief, and in point blank verse, desire her, one way or other, to make aa end of the business. [/ a ichini/ig Tone. Lord M. What a fool dost thou make me! Sir Char. I only show you as you came out of her hands, my lord. Lord M. How contemptibly have I behaved my- self! Sir Char. That's according as you bear her beha- viour. J.oid ?J. Bear it! no I thank thee, Charles; thou hast waked me now ; and if i hear it What have you done with my Lady Graveair.-.? Su Char. Your business, 1 believe She's ready for you; she's just gone down stairs, and if you don't 46 THE CARELESS nusr.AXD. [act ni. make haste after her, I expect her back again, with a knife or a pistol presently. Lord M. I'il go this minute. Sir Char. No, stay a little: here comes my lord; we'll see what we can get out of him, first. Enter Lord Foppington. Lord F. Nay, pr'ythce. Sir Charles, let's have a little of thee we have been so chagrin without thee, that, stop my breath, the ladies are gone half asleep to church, for want of thy company. Sir Char. That's hard, indeed, while your lordship was among them. Is Lady Betty gone too? Lord F. She was just upon the wing; but I caught her by the snuff-box, and she pretends to stay to see if I'll give it her again, or no. Lord M. Death ! 'tis that I gave her, and the only present she would ever receive from me Ask him how he came by it. [_Aside to Sir Charles. Sir Char. Pr'ythee don't be uneasy Did she give it you, my lord ? Lord F. Faith, Charles, I can't say she did, or she did not; but we were playing the fool, and I took it a la Pshaw ! I can't tell thee in French neither j but Horace touches it to a nicety 'twas pignus direptum male jjertinaci. Lord M. So but I must bear it if your lord- ship has a mind to the box, I'll stand by you in keep- ing of it. Lord F. My lord, T am passionately obliged to you ; but I am afraid 1 cannot answer your hazarding so much of the lady's favour. Lord M. Not at all, my lord: 'tis possible I may not have the same regard to her frown that your lord- ship has. Lord F. That's a bite, T am sure he'd give a joint of his little finger, to be as well with her as I am. SCENE 1.3 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 4/ [ Aside. 1 But here she comes Charles, stand by lue Must not a man be a vain coxcomb, now, te think this creature followed one? Sir Chtir. Nothing so plain, my lord. Lord F. Flattering devil ! E/iler Lady Betty. Lad^ B. Pshaw, my Lord Foppingvon! pr'ythee don't play the fool now, but give me my snuff-box Sir Charles, help me to take it from him. Sir Char. You know, I hate trouble, madam. Lady B. Pooh ! you'll make me stay till prayers are half over nou^ Lord F. If you'll promise ma not to go to churcb, I'll give it you. Ladi/ B. I'll promise nothing at all; for, positively, I will have it. [Slniggling ivifh kinu Lord F. Then, comparatively, I won't part with it. Ha! ha! [Strtiggks icifh Jier, Lady B. Oh, you devil, you have killed my arm I Oh! Well, if you'll let me have it, I'll give you a better. Lord 3L Oh, Charles ! that has a view of distant kindness in it. \^Aside ^o Sir Charles. Lord F. Nay, now I keep it, superlatively 1 find there's a secret value in it. Lady B. Oh, dismal ! upon my word, I am only ashamed to give it to you. Do you think I would of- fer such an odious fancied thing to any body I had the least value for? Sir Char. Now it comes a little nearer, methinks it does not seem to be any kindness at all. \_Aside to LouD Morelovk. Lord F. Why, really, madam, upon second view, it has rK)t extremely the mode of a lady's utensil. Are you sure it never held any thing but snuff? Lady B. Oh, you monster! Lord F, Nayj I only ask, because it seems to ma to 4S THE CARELESS HUSI5AXD. [act iir,. have very much the air and fancy of Monsieur Smoakandsot's tobacco-box. Lord M. I can bear no more. , Sir Char. Why, don't then ; I'll step in to the com- pany, and return to your relief immediately. \^Exit. Lord M. [7'u Lady Betty.J Come, madnm, will your ladyship give me leave to end the dilference? Since the slightness of the thing may h-t you bestow it without any mark of favouE, shall 1 beg it of your ladyship? Lady B. Oh, my lord^ nobody sooner I beg you'll give it, my lord. [_^Louking earnestly on Lord Foppington, xvho, sniiUng, gins it to LoitD Mouelove, and then boivs grav^li/ to her. Lard M. Only to have the honour of restoring it to your lordship; and if there be any otiicr "trifle of mine your lordship has a fancy to, though it were a mistress, I don't know any person in the world that has so good a claim to my resignation. Iiord F. Oh, my lord, this generosity Avill distract me! Lord M. My lord, I do you but common justice. But from your conversation, 1 bad never known the true value of the sex. You positively understand them the best oi any man breathing; therefore I think every one of common prudence ought to resign lo you. Lord F. Then, positively, your lordship is the most obliging person in t^ e world j for I'm sure your judgment can never like any woman, that is not the iinest creature in the universe. [ Bowing to Lady B t<: t t v . Lord M. Oh, your lordsLip does me too much ho- nour; I have the worst judgment in the world j n! man has been more deceived ui it. Loid F. Then your lordship, I presume, has been apt to cbuse in a mask, or by canUlcIig.ht. SCENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 4() Lord M. In a mask, indeed, my lord, and of all masks the most dangerous. Lvrd F. Pray, what's that, my lord? Lord M. A bare face. Lord F. Your lordship will pardon me, if I don't so readily comprehend how a woman's bare face can hide her face. Lvrd M. It often hides her heart, my lord; and therefore I think it sometimes a more dangerous mask than a piece of velvet : that's rather a mask than a disguise of an ill woman. But the mischiefs skulk- ing behind a beauteous form give no warning 3 they are always sure, fatal, and innumerable. Ladi/ B. Oh, barbarous aspersion ! My Lord Fop- pington, have you nothing to say for the poor wo- men ? Laid F. I must confess, madam, nothing of this nature ever happened in my course of amours. I al- ways judge the" beauteous part of a woman to be the most agreeable part of her composition ; and wheu once a lady does me the honour to toss that into my arms, I think myself obliged, in goodnature, not to quarrel about the rest of her equipage. ifl>'/// B. Why, ay, my lord, there's some good humour in that now. Lord M. lie's happy in a plain English stomach, madam ; I could recom.end a dish that's perfectly to your lordship's gout^ where beauty is the only sauce to it. Lady B. So- Lord F. My lord, when my wine's right, I never care it should be zested. Lord M, I know some ladies would thank you for that opinion. Ladii B. My Lord Morelove is reallv g own such a churl to the women, I don't only think he is not, tut can'l coaccive how he ever could be^ lu lovts so THE CARELESS HUSBAND^ [aCT Iir- Loi'd M, Upon ray word, madam, I once thought I was. [Smiling, Ladi) B. Fie, fie ! how could you think so ? I fancy, now, you had only a mind to domineer over some poor creature, and so you thought you were in love, ha I ha ! LordM. The lady I loved, madam, grew so unfor- tunate in her conduct, that at last she brought me to treat her with the same indifference and civility as Z now pay your ladyship. Lady B. And, ten to one, just at that time she% never thought you such tolerable company. Lord M. That I can't say, madam ; for at that time she grew so affected, there was no judging of her thoughts at all. [^Mimicking her.. Lady B. What, and so you left the poor lady. Ob, you inconstant creature ! Lord M. No, madam, to have loved her on had been inconstancy ; for she was never two hours to- gether the same woman. [Laiy BfeTTY and Lord Morelove seem to talk. Lord F. I Aside.'] Ha! ha J- ha! I see hebasamind^ to abuse her ; so I'll even give him an opportunity of doing his business with her at once for ever My lord, I perceive your lordship is going to be good company with the ladyj and, for her sake, 1 don't think it good, manners in me to disturb you Enter Sir Charles. Sir Char. My Lord Foppington Lord F. Oh, Charles! 1 was just wanting thee Hark thee I have three thousand secrets for thee - I have made such discoveries ! to tell thee all in one word, Morclove's as jealous of me as the devil, he! he! hel rENE I.] TBE CAHELESS HUSBANW 51 Sir Char. Is it possible ? Has she given him any occasion ? Lord F. Only rallied him to death upon my ac- count j she told m6, within, jnst now, she'd nse him likd a dog, and begged me to draw otF for an oppor- tunity.. Sir Char. Oh, keep in while the scent lies, and she is your own, ray lord. Lord F. I can't tell that, Ciiarlqs; but I am sure she is fairly unharbcured ; and when once I throw off my inclinations, I usually follow them till the game has enough on't : and between thee and I, she is pretty well blown tooj she can't stand long, I be- lieve j for, curse catch me, if I have not rid down half a thousand pounds after her already. A.Sir Char. What do you mean ? Lord F. I have lest fi\e hundred to her at piquet since dinner. Sir Char. Ycu are a fortunate man, faith; you are resolved not to be thrown out, I see. Lord F. Hang it, what should a man come out for, if he does not keep up to the sport? Sir Char. Well pushed, my lord. Lord F. Tayo ! have at her Sir Char. Down, down, my lord ah ! 'ware haunches ! Lord F, Ah, Charles 1 {Fmhracing hayi.l Pr'ythee, let's observe a little : there's a foolish cur, now 1 have run her to a stand, has a mind to be at her by him- self, and thou shalt see, she won't stir out of her way for him. {.'Lheij stand aside. Lord M. ria ! ha ! your ladyship is very grave of a sudden ; you look as if your jover had insolently re- covered his common senses. Lady B. And your lordship is so very gay, and unlike yourself, one would swear you were just come from the pleasure of making your mistress afraid of you. r2 52 ' THE CARELESS nUSr.AJTDj [aCT III, Lord M. No, faith, quite contrary; for, do yoa know, madam, I liavejat found out, that, upon your account, I have made myself one of the most ridicu- lous puppies upon the face of the earth 1 have, upon my faith nay, and so extravagantly such, ha! ha! ha ! that it is at last become a jest even to my- self ; and I can't help laughing at it for the soul of me; ha ! ha ! lia! Lady B. I want to cure him of that laugh, now. {_Ayide.'] My lord, since you are so generous, I'll tell you another secret Do you know, too, that I still find, (spite of all your great wisdom, and my con- temptible qualities, as you are pleased, now and then, to call them) doyoa kno'.v", I say, that I see, under all this, that vou still love me with the same helpless passion: and can your vast foresight im:}gine I won't use you accordingly for these extraordinary airs you are pleased to give yourself? Lord M. Oh, by all means, madam! 'tis fit you should, and I expect it, whenever it is in your power. Confusion ! [Aaidf. Lady B. My lord, you have talked to me this half hour, without coni'essing pain, [/'auicv, and ajjlcis to gopeJ] Only remem!)er it. Lord M. Hell and tortures ! Lady B. What did you say, my lord? Lord AL Fire and furies ! Ladi/ B. Ha] ha! he s disordered Now I am easy My Lord Foppington, have you a mind to your revenge at piquet ? Lo.d !'. I have always a mind to an opportunity of entertaining your ladys ip, madam. [L tUY Bf.tty cofjuets tiu/t Loud Foppington. Lord 3/. Oh, Charles! the inso'ence of this woman might furnish out a thousand devils. Sir L'aar. And your temper is enough to furnisli out a thousand such women. Come away j 1 havs business for you upon the Terrace. SCENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 53 Lord M. Let me but speak one word to her. Hiv Char. Not a syllable : the tongue's a weapon you'll always have the worst at ; for I see you have no guard, and she carries a devilish edge. Lady B. My lord, don't let any thing I have said frighten you away; for if you have the least inclina- lion to stay and rail, you know the old conditions ; 'tis but your asking me pardon the next day, and you may give your passion any liberty you think fit. Lord 3/. Daggers and death ! Sir Char. Is tiie man distracted ? Lord M. Let me speak to her now, or I shall burst Sir Char. Upon condition you'll speak no more of her to me, my lord, do as you please. Lord M. Pr'ythee, pardon me 1 know not vAi^it to do. tiir Char. Come along; 111 set you to work, 1 war- rant you Nay^ nay^ none of your parting ogles Will you go ? Lord M. Yes and I hope for ever [^Exit Sir C5iAiiLEs,jyw//w'^ aixay I;OSd MORELOVE. Lord r. IJa ! ha ! ha ! Did ever mortal monster set up for a lover, with such unfortunate qualifications ! Lady B. Indeed, my Lord Morelove has something strangely singular in his manner. Lord F. I thought I should have burst, to see the creature pretend to rally, and give himself the airs of one of us But, run me through, madam, your lady- ship pushed like a fencing master ; that last thrust was a coup de grace, I believe : I am afraid his honour will hardly meet your ladyship in haste again. Lady B. Not unless his second. Sir Charles, keeps him better in practice, perhaps Well, the humour of this creature has done me signal service to-day. I must keep it up, for fear of a second engagement. [hide F 3 54 THE CARELKSS HUSBAND. [aCTHI. Lord F. Never was a poor wit so foiled at his own weapon, sure ! L'ldi/ ij. Wit! had he ever any pretence to it? L(jrd F. Ha! ha! he has not much in love, I tJiink, tho'.igh he wears the reputation of a very pretty young teilovv, among some sort of people; biU, strike Pic stupid, if ever I could discover common sense in all the progress of his amours : he expects a woman should like him. for endeavouiing to convince her, that she has not one good quality belonging to the whole composition of her soul and body. L(i:!i/ B. That, I suppose, is only in a modest hope that she'll mejid her faults, to qualify herself for his vast merit, ha ! ha ! Lurd F. Poor Morelove ! I see she can't endure him.. [Aside. Lady B. Or, if one really had all those faults, he does not consider, that sincerity in love is as much out of fashion as sweet snuff; nobody takes it now. Lord F- Oh. no mortal, madam, unless it be here and there a 'squire, 'hat's making his lawful C'Urt to the cherry-check charms of my Lord Bishop's great iat daughter in the country. Lady ^B. O, what a surfeiting couple has he put to- gether ['I inuvjing her liauil cai do-sly vp(at his. Lurd F. Fond of me, by all that's tender ! Poor fool, rn give thc-e ease im.Tediaiely. [.it>ide.'] But, madam, you were pleased just now to ofler me my revenge at piquet Now hcre"s nobody within, and 1 think we can't make use of a better opportunity. Lady B. O! n.': not now, my lord! 1 have a favour 1 would fain beg of you first. Lord F. But time, mad;m], is very precious in this place, and I shall not easily forgive myself, if I don't take him by she forelock. Lo'Jy B. But I have a great mind to have n little more sport with my Lord Mcrelove (irbt, and would laiii bc" vcnr a;:si5tance. SCtKEI,] THE CARELESS HUSJJAKB. 55 T.ord F. Oh! with all my heart, madam j bat bow can 1 serve you in this nffair ? Lndti B: Why, methonght, as my Lord Morelove went out, he showed a stern re/entment in his lv)ok, that seemed to threaten me with rebellion, and down- right defiance : now I have a great tancy that you and I should follow iiira to the Terrace, and laugh at his resolution before he has lime to put it in practice. Lord F. And so punish his fault before he commits St I ha! ha! ha! Ladij P). Nay, we won't give him time, if his cou- rage should fail, to repent it. Lord F. Ha! ha! ha! let me blood, if I don't long to be at it, ha! ha! Lar/j/ B. And if at last his sage mouth should open jn surly con tn; diet ion of our humour, then will we, in pure opposition to his, immediately fall foul upoa every thing that is not gallant and fashionable : con- straicy shall be the n::ark of age and ugliness, virtue a jest, we'll rally discretion out of doors, lay gravity at our feet, and only love, free love, disorder, liberty, and pleasure, be our standing principles. Lojil F. Madam, you transport me : for if ever I v.'as obliged to nature for any one tolerable qualifica- tion, 'twas positively the talent of being exuberantly pleasant upon tliis subject 1 am impatient my fan- cy's upon the wing already let's fiy to him. Lant/ B. No, no ; stay till I a:n just gone out ; our going together won't be so proper. Lvid F. As your Ladyship pleases, madam But when this aiT'air is over, you won't forget that I have a certain revenge due. //././// /i. A}-, a)- ! after supper I am for you Nay, you shan't stir a step, my lord! \_r.fcmg her to the Door, Lord ] . Only to tell you, you have fixed me your* to the last existence of rny soul's eternal entity. ijjdj; //'. O.. }Q ;r hcrvaut. [cr/V. 6& THE CARELESS HtrSBAKO. f ACT IV. Lord F. Ha ! ha ! stark mad for me, by all that's handsome ! Poor Morelove ! That a fellow, who has ever been abroad, should think a woman of her spi- rit is to be taken by a regular siege, when the surest way is to whisper the governor. I'll see if I can show him a little French play with Lady Betty let mc see ay, I'll make an end of it the old way, get her to piquet at her own lodgings not mind one tittle of my play, give her every game before she's half up, that she may judge of the strength of my inclination by my haste of losing up to her price; then of a sud- den, with a familiar leer, cry Rat piquet ! sweep counters, cards, and money upon the floor, ^' clone t affaire cstfuite. [Exit, ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. The Castle Terrace. Enter Lady Betty and Lady Easy. Lady E. My dear, you really talk to me as if I were j'our lover, and not your friend : or else I am so dull, that by all you've said I can't make the least guess at your real thoughts Can you be serious for a moment ? Lnc/y B. Not easily: but I would do more to oblige you. Lady E. Then pray deal ingenuously, and tell me without reserve, are you sr.re you don't love vny Lord Morelove ? SCENE I.] THE.CATvELESS HU5BAXD. 5^ LaJ^ D. Then seiiously I think not But be- cause I won't be jjositive, you shall judge by the worst oX my synjptoms Fir.st, I own 1 like his con- versation, his person has neither fault, nor beauty veil enough- 1 don't remember I ever secretly wish- ed myself married to him, or that ever 1 seriously resolved against it. Ladij E. "Weil, so far you are tolerably safe: bnt come as to his manner of addressing you, -what ef- fect has that had ? Liidi; B. I am not a little pleased to obseive, few men follow a woman, v ith the same fatigue and spirit, that he dees me and more pleased when he lets me vise him ill ; and if ever I have a favourable thought of him, 'tis when I see he can't bear that usage, Lcdj/ E. Have a Crare j that last is .a iiangerous symptom' he pleases your pride, I find. Ladj/ B. Oh ! perfectly in that, 1 ow-n, no mortal ever can come up to him. Ludii E. But now, my dear, now comes the main poin; ^jealousy ! Are you sure you have never beea touched with it? Tell lue that, with a safe conscience, and then I pronounce-you clear. Ladj/ B. Nay, then I defy him j for, positively, I was never jealous in my life. Lady E. How, madam ! have you never been stirred enough, to think a woman strangely forward for be- ing a little familiar in talk with him ? Or, are you sure, his gallantry to another never gave you the least disorder r Were you never, upon no accident, in aa apprehension of losing him ? Lady B. Hah ! VJhy, mada'u Bless me ! wh wh why sure you don't call this jeaknisy, my dear ? Lady E. Nay, nay, that is not the business Have you ever felt any thing of this nature, madam ? Lady B. Lord ! don't be so hasty, my dear anj ihing of this natme O lud ! 1 swear 1 don't like 58 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT IV. it : dear creature, bring me off here j fof I am half frightened out of my wits. Lady E. Nay, if you can rally upon' t, your wound is not over deep, I'm afraid. Lady B. Well, that's comfortably said, however. Lady E. But, come to the point How far have you been jealous ? Lady B. Why, O, bless me ! He gave the mu- sic one night to my Lady Languish, here upon the Terrace : and (though she and 1 were very good friends) I remember I could not speak to her in a week for't. Oh! Lady E. Nay, now you may laugh if you can: for, take my word, the marks are upon you But, come what else ? Lady B. O, nothing else, upon my word, my dear! Lady E, Well, one word more, and then I give sentence: suppose you were heartily convinced, that he actually followed another woman ? Lady B. But, pray, my dear, what occasion is there to suppose any such thing at all ? Lady E. Guilty, upon my honour. Lady B. Pshaw ! I defy him to say, that ever I owned any inclination for him. Lady E. No, but you have given him terrible leave to guess it. Lady B. If ever you see us meet again, you'll have but little reason to think so, I assure you. Lady E. That I shall see presently; for here comes Sir Charles^ and I'm sure my lord can't be far off. Enter Sir Charles. Sir Char. Servant, Lady Betty My dear, how do you do ? Lady E. At your service, my dear But, pray, what have you done with my Lord Morelove? SCE-SE 1.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 5^ Lady B. Ay, Sir Charles, pray how does your pupil do ? Have you any hopes of him ? Is he do- cible ? Sir Char. [Loohing earnest It/ at Jier.'] Thou insolent creature ! How can you make a jest of a man, whose whole life's but one continued torment, from your want of common gratitude ? Lady B. Torment! for my partj I really believe him as easy as you are. Sir Char. Poor intolerable aiFeclation ! You know the contrary, you know him blindly yours, you know your power, and the whole pleasure of your life's the poor and low abuse of it. Lady B. Pray how do I abuse it if I have any power ? Sir Char. You drive him to extremes, that make him mad, then punish him for acting against his rea- son : but I have no regard to men in madness, I rather chuse for once to trust in your goodnature, in hopes the man, whom your unwary beauty had made miser- able, your generosity would scorn to make ridiculous. Lady B. Sir Charles, you charge me very home; I never had it in my inclination to make any thing jidiculous, that did not deserve it. Pray, what is this business you think so extravagant in him r Sir Char. Something so absurdly rash and bold, you'll hardly forgive even me, that tell it you. Lady B. O he i If it be a fault. Sir Charles, I shall consider it as his, not yours. Pray, what is it ? Sir Char. This man, I say, whose unhappy passion has so ill succeeded v/ith you, at last has forfeited all his hopes (into which, pardon me, I confess my friendship had lately flattered him) of even deserving now your lowest pity or regard. Lady B, You amaze me For I can't suppose, his utmost malice dares assault my reputation and what 60 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. TaCT TV", .S'zVC/^a;*. No, but he maliciously presumes the world, will do it for him; and, indeed, he has "tiiken no un- likely means to make them bu'^y with their to:;gues ; for he is this moment upon the open Terrace, in the highest public gallantry with my Lady Graveairs. Lady B. fvfy Lady Graveairs ! Truly I think mj lord's very much in the right on't for my part. Sir Charles, 1 don't see any thing in this that's so very ridiculous, nor, indeed, that ought to make me think either the better or the worse of him for't. Sir Clirtr. Pshaw ! pshaw ! madam, you and I know 'tis not in his power to renounce you ; this is but the poor disguise of a resenting passion, vainly ruffled to a storm, which the least gentle lock from you can re- concile at will, and laugh info a calm again. Ladj/ B. indeed. Sir Charles, I shan't give myself that trouble, I believe. Sir Char. So I told him, madam : are not all your complaints, said I, already owing to her pride; and can you suppose this public defiance of it, (which you know yon can't make good, too) won't incense her more against you ? 1'hat's what I'd have, said he, staring wildly; I care not what becomes of mc, so 1 but live to see her piqued at it. Lady B. Upon my word, I fancy my lord will find himself mistaken I shan't be piqued, I believe I must first have a value for the thing I lose, before It piques me ! Piqued ! ha ! ha ! ha ! [Disordered. Sir Char. Madam, you have said the very thing I tirged to him ; I know her temper so well, said I, that, though she doted on you, if you once stood out against her, she'd sooner burst than show the least motion of uneasiness. Lady B. I can assure you, Sir Charles, my lord von't find himself deceived in your opinion giqued ! SCEXE l."] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 6i S7i- Char. She has it. [Aside. Lady E. Alas, poor woman I how little do our pas- sions make us ! L'ldij B. Not but I would advise him to have a little regard to m}' reputation in this business ; I would have him take heed of publicly affronting me. I'd have him consider that, methinks. Sir Cliar. Alas, madam, he considers nothing but a senseless proud revenge, which, in his fit of lunacy, 'tis impossible that either threat ordanger can dissuade him from. Ladj/ B. What ! does he defy me ! threaten me ! then he shall see, that I have passions too, and know, as well as he, to stir my heart against any pride that dares insult me. Dees he suppose I fear him ? Fear- the little malice of a slighted passion, that my own scorn has stung into a despised resentment ! Fear him I O ! it provokes me to think he dare have such a thought ! Ladi/ E. Dear creature, don't disorder yourself to. Lady B. Let me but live to see him once more within my power, and I'll forgive the rest of for^ tune. Lady E. My dear, I am afraid you have provoked her a little too far. Sir (J/iar. O, not at all ! You shall see I'll sweeten her, and she'll cool like a dish of tea. Lady B. I may see him with his com^ laining face again Sir Char. I am sorry, madam, you so wrongly judge of what I've told you; i was in hopes to have stirred your pity, not your anger : I little thought your ge- nerosity would punish him for faults, which you your- fclf resolved he should commit. Yonder he comes, end all the world with him : might I advise you, ma- dam, you should not resent the thing at all 1 v/ould not 40 much as stay to see him in his {:mh -^ ' G 02 THE CARELTISS HUSBAND. [aCTIV. nay, I'd be the last that heard of itj nothing can sting him more, or so juslly punish his folly, as your utter neglect of it. Ladi/ E. Come, dear creature, be persuaded, and go home with me. Indeed it would show more indif- ference to avoid him. Lad^ B. No, madam, I'll oblige his vanity for once, and stay, to let him see how strangely lie has piqued me. Sir Char. \_Asidc.'] O not at all to speak of; you had as good part with a little of that pride of yours, or I shall yet make it a very troublesome companion to you. \_Exit. Enter LoRT) FoppijsGTON. LordF. Ladies, your servant O ! we have wanted you beyond reparation such diversion ! L'idi/ B, Well, my lord ! have you seen my Lord Morelove ? Lurd F. Seen him ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! O ! I have such things to tell you, madam you'll die Ladi/ B. O, pray let's hear them i was never in a better humour to receive them. Lord F. Hark you. [_Tlicy whisper. Enter Lord Moeelove, Lady Graveairs, and Sir Charles. Lord M. So, she's engaged already. [To Sir Charles. Sir Char. So much the better ; make but a just advantage of my success, and she's undone. f":,^^- I Ha! ha! ha! Sir Char. You see, already, what ridiculous pains she is taking to stir your jealousy, and cover her own. SCENE I.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 63 Lord M. O, never fear me ; for, upon my word, it now appears ridiculous, even to me. Sir Char. And, hark you lir/iispers LoRD MoRELOVE. Lady B. And o the widow was as full of airs as his lordship ? Sir Char. Only observe that, and it is impossible you can fail. [^Aside. Lord M. Dear Charles, you have convinced me, and I thank you. Lady G. My Lord Morelove ! What, do you leave us ? Lord M. Ten thousand pardons, madam, I was but just Lady G. Nay, nay, no excuse^ my lord, so you will but let us have you again. Sir Char. \_Aside to Laky Gr aveairs.] I see you have good humour, madam, when you like your com- pany. Lady G. And you, I sec, for all your mighty thirst of dominion, could stoop to be obedient, if one thought it worth one's while to make you so. Si-r Char, Ha ! power would make her an admira- ble tyrant. \_Aside, Lady E. [Observing Sir Charles and Lady Graveairs.] So! there's another couple have quar- relled too, I find Those airs to my Lord Morelove, look as if designed to recover Sir Charles into jea- lousy : I'll endeavour to join the company, and, it may be, that will let me into the secret, [Aside.'] My Lord Foppington, I vow, this is very uncomplaisant, to engross so agreeable a part of the company to yourself. Si,r Char. Nay, my lord, this is not fair, indeed, to enter into secrets among friends ! Ladies, what say you, I think we ought to declare against it. Lady D. Well, ladies, I ought only to ask your G 2 0$ THl CARELESS nUSBAXB. '([aCT IV. pardon : my lord's excusable, for I would haul him into a corner. Lord F. I swear 'tis very hard, ho ! I observe two people of extreme condition can no sooner grow par- ticular, but the multitude of both sexes are immedi- ately up, and thinic their properties invaded. Ladj/ B. Odious multitude Lord F. Perish the canaille. Lady G. O, my lord, we women have all reason to be jealous of Lady Betty Modish's power. Lord 3L [To Lady Betty.] As the men, madam, all have of my Lord Foppingtonj besides, favourites of great merit discourage those of an inferior class for their prince's service : he has already lost you one of your retinue, madam. Ladi/ B. Not at all, my lord: he has only made room for another : one must sometimes make vacan- cies, or there could be no preferments. Ladj/ E. Ha ! ha ! Ladies' favours, my lord, like places at court, arc not always held for life, you know. Ladi/ B. No, indeed ! if they were, the poor line women would be always used like their wives, and no more minded than the business of the nation. Lady E. Have a care, m-adam : an undeserving fa- vourite has been the ruin of many a prince's em- pire. Lord F. Ha ! ha ! Upon my soul, Lady Betty, we must grow more discreet ; for, positively, if we go on at this rate, we shall have the v.orld throw you under the scandal of constancy ; and I shall have all the swords of condition at my ihroiit, for a nionopoiist. Lord \M. (J 1 there's no great fear of th;it, my lord; though the men of sense give it over, there will l)e always some idle fellows vain cnou'^li to believe ihcir merit may succeed as wei! as your lordship's. Lady is. Or if they should nor, iry Icrtl. ca^t lovers, j'ou'know, need not fear being lon^^cut of cmploj nient. SCEXE I.] THE CARELESS IUTSA^^U. ^5 while there are so many well disposed people in the world There are generally neglected wives, stale maids, or charitable widows, always ready to relieve the necessities of a disappointed passion and, by the way, hark yon, Sir Charles Ladji G. [ Ji/(/f.] That wit was thrown at me, I suppose ; but I'll return it. Lady B. ISoiiljjti Sir CHARLES.] Pray, how come you ali this while to trust your inistress so easily ? Sir Ch'ir. One is not so apt, madam, to be alarmed at the iibei ties of an old acquaintance, as perhaps your ladyship ought to be at the resentment of an hard used, honourable lover. Lady B. Suppose I were alarmed, how does that make you easy ? Sir Char. Come, come, be wise at last ; a thousand busy tongues are set upon malicious inquiries into your reputation. Liid;/ B. Why, Sir Charles, do you suppose, while he behaves himself as he does, that i won't convince him of my indifference ? Sir Char. But hear me, madam I.'idy G. \_Ai,idt'.'] The air of that whisper looks as if the lady had a mind to be making her peace again; and 'tis possible, his worship's being so busy in the matter too. may proceed as much trom his jealousy of my lord with me, as friendship to her ; at least I fancy so: therefore I'm resolved to keep her still piqued, and prevent it, though it be only to gall him Sir Charles, that is not fair, to take a privilege you just now declared against in my Lord Foppington. Lord M. Well observed, madam. I^adij G. Besides, it looks so affected, to whisper, when every body guesses the secret. Lord Td ^ Ha 1 ha ! ha ! Ludi/ B. O! madam, your pardon in particular: but it is possible you may be mistaken : the secrets of people, that have any regard to their actions, are not G 3 66 TH CARELESS nUSBAXB. [aCTIV. SO soon guessed as theirs that have made a confidant of the whole town. Lord F. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ladi/ G. A coquette, in her affected airs of disdain to a revolted lover, I'm afraid must exceed your lady- ship in prudence, not to let the vforld see, at the same time, she'd give her eyes to make her peace with him ; ha ! ha ! Lord M. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ladt/ B. 'Twould be a mortification, indeed, if it were in the power of a fading widow's charms to pre- vent it J and the man must be miserably reduced, sure, that could bear to live buried in woollen, or take up with the motherly comforts of a swan-skin petticoat. Ha! ha! Lord F. Ha! ha! ha! Ladj/ G. Widows, it seems, are not so squeamish to their interest ; they know their own minds, and take the man they like, though it happens to be one that a froward, vain coquette, has disobliged, and is pining to "be friends with. Lord ^J. Nay, though it happens to be one that confesses he once was land of a piece of folly, and af- terwards ashamed on't. Ladu B. Nay, my lord, there's no standing against two of you. Lord F. No, foith, that's odds at tennis, my lord: not but if your l?.dyship pleases. 111 endeavour to keep your backhand a little; though upon my soul you may safely set me up at the line: for, knock me down, if ever I saw a rest of wit better played, than that last, in my life What say you, madam, shall ve, engage ? Lady B. As you please, my lord. Lord F. Ha! ha! ha! Allvns! tout dc [ban j oxter, mi lor. LordM. O, pardon me, sir, I shall never think my>- *eli' in anv thing a match for the lady. SCENE 1.] THE CARELESS IIUSIJAVD. GJ I.o)d F. To YOU, madam. Ladi/ B. That's much, my lord, when the world knows you have been so many years teasing me to play the fool with you. Lord M. At a game, I confess, your ladyship has chosen a much properer .person to improve your hand wilh. Lord F. To me, madam My lord, I presume whoever the lady thinks ht to play the fool wuti. will at least be able to give as much envy as the wise per- son, that had not wit enough to keep well wiui her when he was so. Iauij/ G. O ! my lord ! Both parties must needs be greatly "happy i for 1 dare swear, neither will have any rivals to disturb them, LurdM. Ha! ha! Lady B. None that will disturb ihem;, I dars swear. LordF. Ha! ha! ha! Lord M. 1 Lady G. I Ha! ha! ha! 'Lady B. J iSir Char. I don't know, gentlefolks but you are all in extreme good humour, methiiiks ; 1 hopa there's none of it affected. Lady E I should be loath to answer for any but my Lord Foppington. [Atiuie. Lady B. Mine is not, I'll swear. Lord M. Nor mine, I'm sure Lady G. Mine's sincere, depend upon it. Lord i\ And may liie eternal frowns of the v/hole sex doubly demme, if mine is not. Lady E. Well, good people, i aai nfij^hty glad to jhear it. You h?.ve all perfornicd extrc:neiy wt-U j but, if you please, you shdl ev'u give over your wit now, while it is wtii.' Lady H. [7'o htrself.] Now I see his humoi;rj I'll stand it out, if I were sure to die for it. 68 THE GAKELESS HUSBAND. [aCT IV. Sir Char. You should not have proceeded so far with my Lord Foppington, after what I had told you. Inside to Lady Betty. Lady B. Pray, Sir Charles, give me leave to un- derstand myself a little. Sir Char. Your pardon, madam. I thought aright underst-inding would h^ye been for both your interest and reputation. Ludy h. For his, perhaps. Sir Char. Nay, then, madam, it's time for me to take care of my friend. Lady H. I never, in the least, doubted your friend- ship to him in any thing that was to show yourself my enemy. Sir Char. Since I see, madam, you have so ungrate- ful a sense of my Lord Morelove's merit, and my ser- vice, I shall never be ashamed of using my power henceforth to keep him entirely out of your lady- ship's. Lady B. Was ever any thing so insolent! I could find in my heart to run the hazard of a downright compliance, if it were only to convince him, that my power, perhaps, is not inferior to his. [^Aiiue. Lady E. My Lord i'oppington, I (hink you gene- rally 1-^ad the company upon these occasions. Pray, will you think of some prettier sort of diversion for us than parties and whispers ? Lord F. What say you, ladies, shall we step and see what's done at the basset table ? Lady B. With all my he,irt; Lady Easy Lady E, I think 'tis ihe heht thi'.g we can do; and because avc won't part to-night, you shall all sup \vl:ere )'ou dined What say yon, my lord ? LordM. Your ladyship may be sure of me, ma- dam. Lord F. Ay I ay ! wc"ll all come. Lady E. Then pray let's charge parties a little. My Lord Foppington, you shall 'sqnirc me. ftCEKE I,] THE CARELESS HUSBAND, C^ Lord F. O ! you do me honour, madam. Ladj Graveairs, you v.on't let Sir Charles leave us ? Lcidi^ G. Noj my lord, we'll follow you. Lad)/ B. My Lord Morelove, pray let me speak with you. Lord M. Me, madam ? Lad^ B. If you please, my lord. Lord M. Ha! that look shot through me. V-fi-.i. can this mean ? 1 .4 -..'>., Ladij B. This is no proper place to tell ),:u v; Ii-.t it is, but there is one thing I'd fain be truly an ; ic:;' in : I suppose you'll be at my Lady Easy's by luid by, and if you'll give me leave there Lord M. If you please to do me that honour, ma- dam, I shall certainly be there. Lady B. That's all, my lord. Ljord M, Is not your ladyship for walking ? Lady B. If your lordship dares venture with me. Lord AI. O! madam! [TaLiiig her Hand.] How jny heart dances! what heavenly music's in her voice, when softened into kindness ! [ isuie. Lady B. Ha ! his hand trembles Sir C harles may be mista'.en [Exeunt. Lady G. I'd speak with you. Sir Char. But, madam, consider, we shall certainly be observed. Lady G. Lord, sir, if you think it such a favour [Eiii haacily. Sir Char. Is she gone ! let her go, &c. [ Exit singings 70 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT X* ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. The Castle Terrace. Enter Sir Charles a7id Lord Morelove. Sir Char. Come a little this way My Lady Grave- airs had an eye upon me as I stole off, and I'm ap- prehensive will make use of any opportunity to talk with me. J,oid M. O ! we are pretty safe here Well, yon weie speaking of Lady Betty. Sir Char. Ay, my lord 1 say, notwithstanding all this sudden change ot her behaviour, 1 would not have you yet be too secure of her : Death ! my Lady Graveairs ! Lord M. Ha ! she will have audience, I find. Sir Char. There's no avoiding her the truth is, I have owed her a little goodnature a great while I see there is but one way of getting rid of her 1 must even appoint her a day ot payment at last. If you'll step into my lodgirgs. my lord, I'll just give her an answer, and be with you in a moment. jLord M. Wery well, I'll stay there for you. [Exit Lord Morelove. Enter Lady Graveairs, on the other Side. Ladj/ G. Sir Charles ! Sir Char. Come, come, no more of these reproach- ful looks; you 11 find, madam, J have deserved better of you than your jealousy imagines Is it a fault SCENE I.] THE CAUELESS HUSEAXD. ^l to be tender of your reputation ? fie, fie This may be a proper time to talk, and of my contriving too you see I just now shook off my Lord More- love on purpose. Ladi/ G. May I believe you ? Sir Char. Still doubting my fidelity, and mistaking my discretion for want of good-nature. Lady (m. Don't think me troublesome 'tis death to think of parting with you. Sir Char. You wrong me to suppose the thought. Lady G, I confess I would see you once again ; if what I have more to say prove ineffectual, perhaps it may convince me then, 'tis my interest to part with you Can you come to-night ? Sir Char. You know we have company, and I'm afraid they'll stay too late Can' tit be before supper? What's o'clock now ? Lady G. It's almost six. Sir Char. At seven then be sure of me; till when, I'd have you go back to the ladies, to avoid suspicion, and about that time have the vapours. Lady G. May I depend upon you ? [ErzY. Sir Char. Depend on every thing A very trouble- some business this send me once fairly rid on't if ever I'm caught in an honourable affair again ! A debt now that a little ready civility, and away, would satisfy, a man might bear with ; but to have a rent charge upon one's good-nature with an unconscion- able long scroll of arrears too, that would eat out the profits of the best estate in Christendom ah into- lerable ! Well ! I'll even to my lord, and shake off the thoughts on't, [^2/. 72 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT V. SCENE I r. Sir Charles's Lodgings. Enter SiR Charles and Lord Morelove. Lord M. Charles, you have transported me ! ynu have made my part in the scene so very easy too, 'tis impossible I should fail in it. Sir Char. That's what I considered, for now the more you throw yourself into her power, the more I shall be able to force her into yours. Lord M. Well, I am fully instructed, and will about it instantly Won't you go along with me ? . Sir Char. That may not be so proper; besides, I have a little business upon my hands. Lord M. Oh, your servant, sir Good bye to you 'you shan't stir. Str Char. My lord, your servant-^[jBri^ Loui> Morelove.] So! now to dispose myself till'tis tima to think of my Lady Graveairs L^mph ! I have no great maw to that business, methinks, I don't find myself in humour enough to come up to the civ'ii things that are usually expected in the I'naking up 6f an old quarrel. [Edging trosAey the Stage.'] There goes a warmer temptation by half; Ha ! into ray wife's bed-chamber too a question if the jade has any great business there ! I have a fancy she has only a mind to be taking the opportunity of nobody's being at home, to make her p^ace with me let me see ay, 1 shall have time enough to go to her ladyship after- wards besides, I want a little sleep, 1 find. [Going, Enter Edging. Edg. Did you call me, sir ? Sir Char. Hal ali'a right lAside.l Yen, madam, I did call you. [Sits do-Ji/i. SCENE III.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. ^3 Edg. What would you please to have, sir ? Sir Char. Have! Why, 1 would have you grow a good girl, and know wiien you are well used, hussy. Edg. bir, 1 don't complain of any thing, not J. Sir Char. Weil, don't be uneasy I am not angry with you now Well, now you're good, you shall have your own way I am going to lie down in the next room ; and since you love a little chat, come and throw my night-gown over me, and you shall talk me to sleep. [ Exit Sir C u a rles. i''dg. Yes, iir for all his way, I see he likes mts itill. \_Extt ojter him. SCENE III. The Terrace. Enter Lady Betty, Laiy Easy, and Lord MOKELUVE. Lord M. Nay, madam, there you are too severe upon him; for, bating now and then a little vanity, my Lord Foppiiigton does not want wit sometimes to make him a very tolerable woman's man. Lady B. But such eternal vanity grows tiresome. Lady E. Come, if he were not so loose in his mo- rals, his vanity, methinks, might be easily excused, considering how much 'tis in fashion j for, pray ob- serve what's half the conversation of most of the fine young people about town, bat a perpetual afllctation of appealing foremost in the knowledge of maniicrr;, new modes, and scandal ? and in that 1 don't see an/ body co;nes up to hun. Lord :\L Nor I, indeed and htre he comta Pray, inuda:u, let's have a little more of him ; ;ic- H 74 THE CARELESS nUSBAND. [aCTV^ body shows him to more advantage than your lady- ship. Lady B. Nay, with all my heart j you'll second me, my lord 1 Jjurd M. Upon occasion, madam Lady E. Engaging upon parties, my h^rd ? lAside, and imliug to Lord Morelovb. ?/ifer Lord Popping TON. Lord T. So, ladies ! what's the alTair now ? L(idy D. Why, you were, my lord ! 1 was allowing you a great many good qualities, but Lady Easy says, you are a y)erfect hypocrite: and that whate\er airs you give yourself to the women, she's confident you value no woman in the world equal to your own lady. Lord F. You see, madam, how I an scandalized upon your account. But it's so natural for a prnde to be malicious, when a man endeavours to be well with any body but herself; did you ever observe she v\as piqued at that before ? ha ! ha ! Lady B. I'll swear you are a provoking creature. Lord F. Let's be more lamiliar upon it, and give her disorder ! ha ! ha ! Lady B. Ha ! ha i ha ! Lord F. Stap ray breath, but Lady Easy is an ad- mirable discoverer IViarriage is indtred a profiigious security of one's inclination; a nian s ii'Kely to take a world of pains in an employment, wiiers he can't be turned out for his idleness. Lady B. i vow, my lord, that's vastly generous to all the fine women ; you arc for giving them a despo- tic power in love, 1 see, to rewartl and punish as they think fit. Lord F. Ha ! ha ! Right, madam, what signifies- beauty without power ? . Lady E. I'm afraid. Lady Betty, the greatest danger in jour use of power, would be from a too heedles* SCEXE 111.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 75 liberality : you would more mind the man than his merit. Lord F. Piqued again, by all that's fretful Well, certainly, to give envy is a pleasure inexpressible. [7b Lady Betty. J.adi/ B. Ha! ha! Ladj/ E. Does not he show him well, my lord ? , [ Aaide to Lo R D Mo K ELO v e. Lord M. Perfectly, and me to myself For now i almost blush to think 1 ever was uneasy at him. I'll) Lady Easy. Lord F, lisdy Easy, I ask ten thousand pardon?, I'm afraid I'm rude all this while. Ladi/ E. Oh, not at all, my lord, you are always good company, when you please: not but in some tilings, indeed, you are apt to be like other fine gen- tlemen, a little too loose in your principles. Lord /'. Oh, madam, never to the offence of the ladies; 1 agree in any community with them: no- body is a more constant churchman, when the fine women are there. J.ad^ E. Oh, tie, my lord, you ought not to go for their sakes at all. And 1 wonder you, that are fur being such a good husband of your virtues, are not afraid of bringing your prudence into a lampoon or a ,piay. [auIi/ B Lampoons and plays, madam, are only things to be laughed at. Lo'dF. Odso I Ladies, the court's coming home, I see ; shall not we make our buws ? Larfiy B. Oh, by all means. Ladij E. Lady Betty, I nuist leave you : for 1 am obliged to write letters, and 1 know you won't give ms lime after supper. i.'idj/ t. WelL my dear, I'll ma'ea short visit, and be with yon. \_Ext Lady Easy.] i'ray, what's' be- , come of my Lady GraveaiTS? 112 70 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCTT. Lord M. Oh, I believe she's gone home, madam i she seemed not to be very well. I^ord F. And where's Sir Charles, my lord ? J,ord M. I left him at his own lodgings. Ladii />. He's upon some ramble, I'm afraid. Ijord F. Nay, as for that matter, a man may ram- ble at home sometimes But here come the chaises, we must make a little more haste, madam. lExeunt, SCENE IV. Sir Charles's Lorigings. jEflfer Lady Easy rtwrf a Servant. Ladi/ E. Is your master come home ? Seiv. Yes, madam. Lad^ E. Where is he ? Serv. I believe, madam, he's laid down to sleep. Ladj/ . Where's Edging ? Bid her get me some wax and paper stay, it's no matter ; now 1 think on it there's some above, upon my toilette. lExcuut sever allj/. SCENE V. Jmthcr Apartment. SfTl Charles discovered ivllhoiit his Paiaiir, (unl Edging by him, hath aaUcp in two cusi/ Ch.iir.',. J ken enter Lady Easy, who starts and trembles, some Time unable to speak, Lndy E. Ha ! protect me, virtue, patience, reason ! Teach me to bear this killing sight, or let SCENE v.] THE CARELESS HUSBA^^D. 77 Me think my dreaming senses are deceiv'd j For sure a sight like this might raise the arm Of duty ev'n to the breast of love! At least I'll throw this vizor of my patience off": Now wake him in his guilt, And baref;ic'd front him with my wrongs. I'll talk to him till he blushes, nay till he^ Frowns on me, perhaps and then I'm lost again The ease of a few tears Is all that's left to me And duty too forbids me to insult. When I have vow'd obedience Perhaps The fault's in me, and nature has not form'd jVIe with the thousand little requisites That warm the heart to love Somewhere there is a fault But Heav'n best knows what both of us deserve: Ha ! bare headed, and in so sound a sleep 1 Who knows, while thus expos'd to th' unwholesom* air. But Heav'n offended may o'ertake his crime. And in some languishing distemper, leave him A severe example of it's violated laws Forbid it mercy, and forbid it love. This may prevent it. [Takes a Steinkirk off ker Neck, and lays it gently on his Head. ' And if he should wake, offended at my too busy care, let my heart- breaking patience, duty, and my fond affection plead my pardon. [_Exit. After she has been out some Time, a Bell rings; Edging "xakes, and stirs SiR Charles. Edg. Oh ! &ir Char. How now ! what's the matter ? J^dg. Oh, bless my soul, my lady's come home. buChar. Go, go, then. [Bell rings. 7S THE CARELESS nU5BAND. [aCT V. Edg. Ob, lud ! my head's in such a condition too. '^Rims to tlie Glass.'} 1 am coming, madam. Oh, lud! here's no powder neither Here, madam. [^Exit. Sir ('bar How now! \_Feeling the Steinhirk on hh HeadJ] What's this? How came it here ? Did not I see my wife wear this to-day ? Death ! she can't have been here, sure It could not be jealousy that brought her home for my coming was accidental so too, 1 fear, was hers How careless i!l^ve 1 iieen ! not to secure the door neither 'T\sas foolish It inust be so I iihe certainly has seen me here, sleeping with her woman : if so, how low an hypocrite to her mut that si^t have proved me ! ^The thought has made me despicable ev'n to myself How mean a vice is lying, and how often have these empty plea- sures hilled my honour and my conscience to lethargy, while I grossly have abused her, poorly skulking Ije- liind a thousand falsehoods ! Now I reflect, this has not been the first of her discoveries How con- temptible a figure must I have made to her ! A crowd of recollected circumsiances confirms me now, she has been long acquainted with uiy follies, and yet with what amazing prudence has she borne the .secret pangs of injured love, and wore an everlasting smile to me ! This a-:ks a little thinking something should be doue* ['11 see her instantly, and be resolved from her behaviour. \^Exit. SCKNE VI. Another Loom. Enter Lady Easy a?id Edging. . Jjadj/ E. Where have you been, Edging ? Edg. Been, madam ! I I I I came as soon as I be.ird you ritig, mi!dam. ^ SCENE VI.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND, 79 Lady E. How guilt confounds her ! but she's be- low my thought Fetch my last new gown hither I have a mind to alter it a little make haste. Eds;. Yes, madam 1 see she does not suspect any thing. \^Exit. LadyE. Heigho! ISi King down.'] I had forgot but I'm unfit for writing now 'Twas an hard con- flict yet it's a joy to think it over : a secret pride to tell my heart my conduct has been just How low are vicious minds that offer injuries ! how much superior innocence, that bears them! Still there's a pleasure even in the melancholy of a quiet con- science. Away, my fears, it is not yet impossible for while his human nature is not quite shook oiF, I ought not to despair. Enter Edging, with a Gxin. Edg. Here's the gown, madam. Ltidi/ E. So, sit down there and, let me see . here, rip off all that silver. pAlg. Indeed I always thought it would become your ladyship better without it Rut now suppose, madam, you carried another row of gold round the scollops, and then you take and lay this silver plain all along the gathers, and your ladyship will perfectly see. it v/il! give the thing ten thousand times another air. L'uhi F.. Pr'ythee don't be impertinent j do as I bid you, Edg. Nay, madam, with all my heart, yoar lady- ship may do as you please. Lady E. This creature grcvs so confident, and I dare not part with her, lest iie should think it jea- lousy. \_ Aside. Enter SirChahles. Sir Char. So, my dear! What, at work! how are you employed, pray i Sd Tilfe CARELESS IIUSBVXt). []aCT V. Lady E. I was thinking to alter this gown here, SirLhar. What s amiss? Methinks it's very pretly. Edg. Yes, sir, it's pretty enough, for that matter : but my Indy has a mind it should be proper too. Sir Char. Indeed ! Lady E. 1 fancy plain gold and black would be- come me better. Sir Char. That's a grave thought, my dear. Edg. O, dear sir, not at all, my lady's much in the right j I am sure, as it is, it's fit for nothing but. a girl. Sir Char. Leave the room. Edg. Lord, sir ! 1 can't stir 1 must stay to Sir Char, Go \_ Angrily, Edg. [ Throxiiiig doxcn the Work hastily, and crying, Asidt."] If ever I speak to him again, I'll be burned. [E.n7 EDGING. Sir Char. Sit still, my dear, I came to talk with you and, which you well may wonder at, what I have to say is of importance too, but 'tis in order to ray hereafter al'ays talking kindly to you. Lody E. Your words we; e never disobliging, nor can I charge you with a look that ever had the ap- pearance of being unkind. Sir Char. Ho'.v could a woman of your restraint in prirciples, sedateness, sense, and tender disposition, propose to lead an happy life with one (now I reflect) that hardly took ?.n hcnir's pains, oven before mar- riage, to appear but Vihiit 1 am : a loose,*unheeded, wretch, absent in all ) do civil, and as often rude, without design, un^easonnhly thoughlful, easy to a fault, and, in my best of praise, but carelessly good- natured ? i *ow shall 1 reconcile your temper witJi Jhaving made so strange a choce ? i.f'di; E. Your own words may answer you Your having never st^emed to be but w hat you really were j aod through that carelessness of temper there siill sjjone forth to uie an uudesigning honesty, I ahvajs SeEN'E VI.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. SI t?oi>v>ted of in smootlier faces: thus, while I saw you took least pains to win me, yon pleased and woo'd me m [^side] My lord, whatever has passed betv/een you and me, I dare swear, that could not be her thoughts at this time ; for, when two people have appeared pro- fessed enemies, she cannot but think one will as little care to give, as the other to receive, a justification of their actions. Lord M. Passion, indeed, often does repeated inju- ries on both sides, but 1 don't remember, in my heat of error, I ever yet professed myself your enemy. Lady Zf. My lord, I shall be very free with you I confess, I do not think now I have a greater enemy in the world. Lord M. If having long loved you, to my own dis- quiet, be injurious, 1 am contented then to stand the foremost of your enemies. Lady B. O, my lord! there's no great fear of your being my enemy that way, 1 dare say Lord M. There is no other way my heart can bear to offend you now, and I foresee in that it will persist to my undoipg. SCENE VII.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 87 Lndij B. Fie, fie, my lord, we know where your heart is well enough. Lord M. My conduct has, indeed, deserved this .^corn, and therefore, 'tis but just I should submit to your resentment, and beg (though I am assured in vain) for pardon. [K/ictls^ Filter Sir Charles. Sir Char. How, my lord ! [Lord Morelove rises. Ijadj/ B. Ha! He here! This was unlucky. [/Isidr. Sir Char, I am sorry to see, you carij so soon forget yourself: mefhinks the insults you have borne from that lady, by this time, should have warned you into a disgust of her regardless principles. Lord JM. Hold, Sir Charles ! while you and I are friends, I desire you would speak with honour of this lady 'Tis sufficient, 1 have no complaint against her, and Lady B. My lord, I beg you would resent this thing no farther: an injury, like this, is better pu- nished with our contempt J apparent malice should oi>ly be laughed at. Siri.li'ir. Ha! ha! the old resource. Offers of any hopes to delude ium from his resentment; and thrn,' you are sure to keep your word with him. Lady B. Sir Charles to let you know how far I am above your little spleen my lord, your hand, fi-om this hour <*>ir Char. Pshaw! pshaw! all design! a'l pique! mere artifice, and disappointed wo.maii. y>/7r/j/ J}. Look you, sir, not that I doubt my lord's opinion of me, yet S;r Char. Look you, madam, in short, yonr word lias been too often takt n, to let you make up quarrels. S3 THE CARELESS II USliAND. [ACT V. as VQU used to do, with a soft look, and a fair pro- mise, you never intended to keep. Lidj/ D. Was ever such insolence! He won't give me leave to speak. Lord M. Sir Charles! Lady B. No, pray, my lord, have patience; and since his malice seems to grow particular, I dare his worst, and urge him to the proof on't. Pray, sir, wherein can }ou charge me with breach of promise to uiy lord? Sir Char. Death, you won't deny it? How often, to piece up a quarrel, have you appointed him to visit you alonej and, though you have promised to see no other com|5any the whole day, when he was come, he has found you among the laugh of noisy fops, coquettes, and coxcombs, dissolutely gay, while your^ull eyes ran over with transport of their flat- tery, and your own vain powers of pleasing : and the minute they were gone, grew only dull to him; sunk into a distasteful spleen, complained yon had talked yourself into the head-ache, and then indulged upon the dear delight of seeing jiim in pain; and by that time you had stretched and gnped him heartily out of paience, of a sudden, most importantly re- member, you had oiusat your appointment with my I^ady Fiddlefaddle ; and immediately order your oach to the park ! Ladi/ B. Yet, sir, have you done? Sir Cliiir. No though this might serve to show the nature of your principles; but the noble conquest you have gaitied, at last, over defeated sense of repu- tation too, lias made year fame immort;iI. Ij)id M. How, sir? Ludij B. iViy reputation? Sir Char. Ay, madam, your reputation My lord, if I advance a lal.sehood, then resent it. I say, your xeputaiion It has been your life's whole pride of SCENE VII.] THE CAKELESS IITTSBAXD. 89 }ate, to be the common toast of every public table; vain even in the infamous addresses of a married man^ my Lord Foppington; let that be reconciled with re- putation, I will now shake hands with shame, and bow n.e to the low contempt which you deserve from him 5 not but I suppose you will yet endeavour to recover him. Now you find ill usage in danger of losing your conquest, 'tis possible you will stop at nothing to preserve it. Ladtj B. Sir Charles [IValks disordered, and he after her. Sir Char. I know your vanity is so voracious, it will even wound itself to feed itselfj offer him a blank, perhaps, to fill up, with hopes of what nature he pleases, and part even with your pride^ to keep him. i.ady D. Sir Charles, I have not deserved this" of you, [^Ihinti'i^i into I ears. Sir Char. Ah, true woman ! drop him a soft dis- sembling tear, and then his just resentment must be hushed of cot. rse. Lord M. O, Charles! I can bear no more; those tear.i are too reproaching. Sir Char. Hist, for your life! [^Aside, and then loud.'] My lord, if you believe her, you are undone; the very next sight of my lord Foppington would make her yet forswear all that she can promise. I.udy 1). JVIy Lord Foppington! Is that the mighty crime that must condeujn me then? You know I u-.ed him but as a tool of my resentment, which you yourself, by a pretended friendship to us both, most artfully provoked me to Lord M. Hold, I conjure you, madam, I want not this conviction. lAtdj/ B. Send for him this minute, and you and he shall both be witnesses of the contempt and de- testation I have for any forward hopes his vanity may have giveu him, or your malice would insinuate.. 90 THE CARTJLESS HUSBAND. [ ACT V. Sir Char. Death! you would as soon eat fire as soon part with your luxurious taste of folly, as dare to own the half of this before his face, or any one, that would make you blush to deny it to -Here comes my wife; now, we shall see Ha! and mv Lord Foppington with her Now! now, we shall see this mighty proof of your sincerity Now! uiv lord, you'll have a warning sure, and hencetouii know me for your friend indeed ! Enter Lady Easy and Lord Foppington:. lAidy E. In tears, my dear! what's the matter? Ludi/ B. Oh, my dear, all I told you is true: Sir Charles has shown himself so inveterately n)y eneun , that if I believed 1 deserved but half his luite, 'twould make me hate myself. Lord F. Hark jou, Charles, pr'ythee what is this business? Sir Char. Why, yours, my lord, for aught I know I have made such a breach betwixt them 1 cannot promise much for the courage of a wou.au ; but if hers holds, lam sure it is wide enough; yon may enter ten abreast, my lord. JjOid F. Say'st thou so, Ch irles .? then I hold si.t to four, I am the first man in the town. Ladi/ E. Sure there must be some mistake in ihi^: I hope he has not made my lord your enemy. Laiti/ B. I know not what he has done. Lord M. bar be that thought! alas! I am too much in fear myself, that what 1 have this day com- mitted, advised by his mistaken friendship, may have done my love irreparable prejudice. Lndif B. No, my lord, since I perceive his little arts have not prevailed upon your good nature, to my prejudice, I am bound in gratiuule, in duty to n>y- self, and to the confession you have made, my loid^ to acknuwled -e now, I have been to bUiUw too. SCENE VII.] THE CARELESS HUSBAND. 1 Lord M. Ha! is it possible? can you own so much ? Li'lif B. He says, I have taken pleasure in seeing you unea>y 1 own ii but twas uh.n that un- easinesij 1 thought proceeded from your love, and if you did love 'twill not be much to pardon it. Lord M. O, let my soul, thus bending to your power, adore this soft descending goodness. Ladi/ li. And since the giddy woman's slights I have shown you too often have been public, 'tis tit, at last, the amends and reparation should be so : theref. My lord, I hope you will pardon the free- dom I have have taken with you. Lord F. O, madam, do not be under the confu- sion of an apology upon my account ; for in cases of this nature, I am never disappointed, but when I find a lady \)f the same mind tvvo hours togetlaer 9^ THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT V, Madam, I have lost a thousand fine women in my time J but never had the ill manners to be out of humour with any one for refusing me, since 1 was horn. Lady B. My lord, that's a very prudent temper. Lord F. Madam, to convince you, that I am in an universal peace with mankind, since you own I have so, far contributed to your happiness, give me leave to have the honour of completing it, by joining your hand where you have already offered up your in- clination. Ladj/ D. My lord, that's a favour I can't refuse you. Lord M. Generous indeed, ray lord. [Lord Foppi ng ton joins their Hands. Lord F. And stap my breath, if ever I was belter pleased, since ray first entrance into human nature. Sir Char. How now, my lord ! what ! throw up the cards before you have lost the game ? Lord F. Look you. Sir Charles, 'tis true, I did design to have played with her alone : but he, that will keep well v.ith the ladies, must sometimes be content to make one at a pool with them ; and since I know I must engafe her in my turn, I don't see any great odds in Jetting him take the first game with her. Larii/ B. And now, Sir Charies. Sir Char. And now, madam, 111 save you the trouble of a long speech ; and, in one word, confess that every thing that I have done in regard to you tliis day was purely artificial I saw there was no way to secure 30U to my Lord Morelove, but by alarming your pride with the danger of losing him : and since the success must have by this time cou- vinced you, that in love nothing is more ridiculous than an over-acted aversion ; 1 am sure ycAi won't take it ill, if we at last congratulate your good- nature, by heartily laughing at the fright we had put you in : ha ! ha ! ha 1 SCEXE VII.] THE CARELESS MU9BAXD. 93 Lady E. Ha! ha! ha! Ladi/ B. Why well, I declare it now, 1 hate you worse than ever. Sir Char. Ha! ha! ha! And was it afraid they would take away its love from it ! Poor Lady Betty ! ha ! ha ! Ijaclj; E. My dear, I beg your pardon ; but it is impossible not to laugh, when one is so heartily pleased. Lord F. Really, madam, T am afraid the humour of the company will draw me into your displeasure, too; but if I were to expire this moment, my last breath vt-ould positively go oat with a laugh. Ha ! ha! ha! lAid^ B. Nay, I have deserved it all, that's the truth on't but, 1 hope, ^ly lord, you were not in this design against me ? J.urd M. As a proof, madam, I am inclined never to deceive yoa more I do confess 1 had my share in it. Ladj/ B. You do, my lord then I declare it M'as a design, one or other the best carried on that ever I knew in my life : and (to my shame 1 own it) for aught I know, the only thing that could have pre- vailed upon my temper ; 'twas a foolish pride, that has cost me many a bitten lip to support it I wish we don't both repent, my lord. Lord M- Don't you repent without me, and we never shall. Sir Char. Well, madam, now the worst that the world can say of your past conduct is, that my lord had constancy, and you have tried it.-- Now, my dear, I find my happiness grow fast upon me ; in ail my past experience of the sex, 1 found, even among the better sort, so much of folly, pride, malice, pas- bion, and irresolute desire, that I concluded thee but of the foremost rank, and, therefore, scarce worthy iny concern ; but thou hast btirred me vvith so severe 94 THE CARELESS HUSBAND. [aCT V, a proof of thy exalced virtue, it gives me wonder equal to my love If, then, the unkindly thought of what I have been hereafter shall intrude upon thy growing quiet, let this reflection teach thee to be easy: Thy wrongs, when greatesst, most thy virtue prov'd ; And, from that virtue found, I blush'd, and truly lov'd. [^Exeunt Omnes, THE END, :, pfrnifgires SHE WOU'D AND SHE WOU'D NOT? A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS ; By COLLEY GIBBER, Esq. AS FERFORMEO AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. PRINTED UVDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGBaS FBOAI THE VJLOKVT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS INCHBALD. LONDON 1 PKINTED rOB LONGMAN, HURST, REES, OEME, AKD BROWIf, PATERNOSTER-noW, Edinburgh : Printed by James Ballantjne & C. REMARKS. This comedy has neither wit nor sentiment- but it has, instead, swearing, lying, and imposture. These vices are, however, mingled so dexterously with interesting plot, excellent occurrence, and some bold characters, that the whole composition is enter- taining on the stage ; though it must infallibly create animadversion, both there and in the closet. As soon as an English writer finds himself on Spa- nish ground, as in this play, there is no event, how- ever impossible, that he does not treat as a probabi- lity ; and an audience, on such occasions, no sooner find their imagination fed somewhat too far into the regions of fancy, then, calling to mind that the scene is placed in a foreign country, they begin to account every circumstance natural, however contrary to the rules of reason as if reason presided alone over the island of Great Britain. The reader of * She wou'd and she wou'd not," will have occasion, very often, to recollect, that he is as far removed from Old England as the metropolis ot Madrid, before he will be able to reconcile him- self to all the wonders contained in the book. Here, two women pass through the whole play, without ex- 4 itEMARKS. citing the least suspicion of their sex, for two men and, along with other as extraordinary incidents, a brother does not know his own sister, nor a lover his most beloved mistress, in familiar conference, because they are dressed in men's attire. But the trivial occurrence, from whence the follow- ing five acts are wholly produced, is the loss of a portmanteau ; and it is most curious to watch the ingenuity of the author through all those intricate contrivances, and plausible explanations, by which, upon this slight incident, he continually baffles the wise plans of one party of his characters, by the crafty schemes of the other. . Humorous suspense, and more humorous surprise, are the reward of strict attention to the scenes of this drama^>--alld, from the rising of the curtain till its falling, one comic event will be found artfully to create another ; whilst the importance of each is aug- mented as each successively takes place ; till the catas- troplie, the most important of all, completes a work most whimsically conceived, and most skilfully con- ducted to its very close. Those characters which have any peculiar mark of distinction, beyond what the happy occurrence of the moment produces, are Don Manuel, Trappanti, and Hypolita one a father, the other a servant man, and the la^t a young lady in love. But these three personages, though all extremely pleasant on the stage, are, in their individual capacities, such as no child would revere, no master would trust, and no prudent man would take for a wife. AEifARKS. O Considering all the failings of this play, in point of moral use, or, more justly, its bias to immoral pur- pose the attempt to draw a moral at its conclusion, is nearly as comic as any thing in the whole produc- tion. Hypolita, the chief cause and propagator of every deception practised, and every falsehood ut- tered, now, towards the end of the play, delivers an ostentatiuus sentiment upon the just punishment which has fallen on Don Manuel, for his having formerly swerved from the paths of truth and ho- nour, by a breach of promise. To sum up the merits of this comedyno auditor or reader will be the wiser, or the better for it. Yet, he may possibly, after either seeing or reading it, be in a much better temper ; for the bad man may re- joice that he here finds persons as bad as himself and the good man will certainly rejoicei that he do6S not resemble any of them. A2 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. . Don Manuel Don Philip Don OcTAvid Don Lewis corhegidor Alguazils Diego Trappanti Soto Jasper Sancho LOREN/O Pedro Cook Postboy Mr Munderii Mr a Kemble, Mr Brunton. Mr Clarcmont, Mr Creswell. C Mr Jef cries. I Mr Powers. Mr Davenport. Mr Fa-wcett. Mr Blanchard. Mr Field. Mr W. Murray. Mr Sarjant. Mr L. Bologna. Mr Piatt. MrT.Blanchard. Hypolita Flora Rosara ViLETTA Miss Smith. Miss Searle. Miss Brvnton. Mrs Mattocks* SCENEtMadrid. SHE WOU'D AND SHE WOU'D NOT. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. An Inn in Madrid. tinier Trapfanti alone, talking to himself. Trap. Indeed, my friend Trappanti, thou'rt in a very thin condition ; thou hast neither master, meat, nor money : not but, couldst thou part with that unappeaseable itch of eating too, thou hast all the ragged virtues that were requisite to set up an ancient philosopher : contempt and poverty, kicks, thumps, and thinking, thou hast endured with the bestof them ; but when fortune turns thee up to hard fasting, that is to say, positively not eating at all, I perceive thou art a downright dunce, with the same stomach, and no more philosophy, than a hound upon horse- flesh Fasting's the devil ! Let me see this, I take it, is the most frequented inn about Madrid, and if a keen guest or two should drop in now Hark ! HosL [Within.'] Take care of the gentlemen's hotses, there; see thtm well rubbed and littered. 8 SHE wou'd and she wou'd'not. [act I. Trap, Just alighted ! if they do but stay to eat, now! Impudence assist me. Ha! a couple of pretty young sparks, *faith ! Enter VLyvolit A and Flora in Men*s Habits; tt Servatut Hjoith a Portmanteau, Welcome to Madrid, sir ; welcome, sir. Flora. Sir, your servant. Serv, Have the horses pleased your honour ? Hj/p. Very well indeed, friend. Pr'ythee, set down the portmanteau, and see that the poor crea- tures want nothing ; they have performed well, and deserve our care. ' Trap. 1*11 take care of that, sir. Here, ostler ! [Exeunt Trappanti and Postroy. Flora. And pray, madam, what do I deserve, that have lost the use of my limbs, to keep pace with you ? 'Sheart ! you whipped and spurred like a fox -hunter : it's a sign you had a lover in view : I'm sure my shoulders ache as if I had carried my horse on them. Hi/p. Poor Flora ! thou art fatigued indeed ; but I shall find a way to thank thee (or't. Flora. And now, madam, pray what do you pro- pose will be the end of our journey ? Hi/p. Why, now, I hope the end of my wishes. I'll tell thee. Flora : you know Don Philip wants no charms that can recommend him as a lover ; in birth and quality, I confess him my superior ; and it is the thought of that has been a constant thorn upon ray wishes. I never saw him in the humblest posture, but still I fancied he secretly presumed his rank and fortune might deserve me: this always stung my pride, and made me overact it : nay, sometimes when his sufferings have almost drawn tears into my eyes, I have turned the subject with some trivial talk, or hummed a spiteful tune, tliough I believed lus heart was breaking. SCENE I.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 9 Flora. But, love be praised, your proud stomach's come down for it. Hyp* Indeed, *tis not altogether so high as it was. In a word, his last letter set me at my wit's end ; and, when I came to myself, you may remember you thought me bewitched ; for I immediately called for my boots and breeches, a-straddle we got, and so rode after him. Flora. Why, truly, madam, as to your wits, I have not much altered my opinion of them, for I can't see what you propose by it. Hyp. My whole design, Flora, lies in this port- manteau, and these breeches. Flora. A notable design, no doubt ; but, pray, let's hear it. Hi/p. Why, I do propose to be twice married be- tween them. Flora. How ! twice ? Hyp. By the help of my portmanteau, I intend to marry myself to Don Philip's new mistress, and then rii put off my breeches and marry him. Flora. Now 1 begin to take ye: but pray, what's in the portmanteau, and how came you by it i Hyp. I hired one to steal it from his servant, at the last iun we lay at in Toledo. In it are jewels of value, presents to my bride, gold good store, settle- ments, and credential letters, to certiiy th it the bear- er, (which I intend to l)e myself) is Don Philip, only son and heir of Don I'ernando de las Torres, now re- siding at Seville, whence we came. Flora. A very smart undertaking, by my troth ! And pray, madam, what part am I to act : Hyp- My woman still ; when I c;'.n't lie for my- selti you are to do it tor ir,e, in the person of a cou- sin-german. Flora. And ray name is to be Hyp. Don Guzman, Diego, Mendez, or what you please : be your own godfather. K) SHE wou'd and she woo'd not. [act I, Flora- 'Egad, 1 begin to like it mightily ! this may prove a very pleasant adventure, if we can but coine ' ofF without fighting; which, by the way, I don't easily perceive we shall ; for, to be sure, Don Philip will make the devil to do with us, when he finds himself here before he comes hither. Hyp. Oh, let me alone to give him satisfaction. Flora. I'm afraid it must be alone, if you do give him satisfaction ; for my part, I can push no more than I can swim. Hyp. But can you bully upon occasion ? Flora. I can scold, when my blood's up. Hyp. That's the same thing : bullying would be scolding in petticoats. Flora. !Say ye so ? Why, then, Don, look to your- self; if I don't give you as good as you bring, I'll be content to wear breeches as long as 1 live. Well, madam, now you have opened the plot, pray when is the play to begin ? Hyp- I hope to have it all over in less than four hours : we'll just refresh ourselves with what the house affords, comb out our wigs, and wait upon my father-in-law Enter Trappanti. How now ! what would this fellow have ? )ff Trap. Servant, gentlemen ; 1 have taken nice care of your nags; good cattle they are, by ray troth! right and sound, I warrant them; they deserve care, and they have had it, and shall have it, if they stay in this house I always stand by, sir, see them rub- bed down with my own eyes Catch mc trusting an ostler, I'll give you leave to fill for me, and drink for me too. Flora. I have seen this fellow somewhere. J'rap. Hey-day ! what, no cloth laid ! was ever suclji attendance ! Hey, house ! tapster ! landlord ! SCEKE !] SHE WOU^D AND SHE WOU'D NOT. 1 1 hey ! [Knocks."] What was it you bespoke, gentle- men ? Ht/p. Really, sir, I ask your pardon, I have almost forgot you. Trap. Psha ! dear sir, never talk of it. I live here hard b)'^ I have a lodging I can't call it a lodging, neither that is, I have a Sometimes I am here, and sometimes I am there ; and so, here and there, one makes shift, you know. Hey ! will these people never come ? Hi/p. You give a very good account of yourself, sir. Trap. Oh, nothing at all, sir. Lord, sir was it fish or flesh, sir ? Flora. Really, sir, we have bespoke nothing yet. Trap. Nothing! for shame! it's a sign you are young travellers. You don't know this house, sir ; why, they'll let you starve, if you don't stir and call, and that like thunder too Hey ! Hyp. Ha I you eat here sometimes, I presume, sir? Trap. Umph ! Ay, sir, that's as it happens I seldom eat at home, indeed Hey ! [Knocks. Enter Host. Host. Did you call, gentlemen ? Trap. Yes, and bawl too, sir. Here the gentlemen are almost famished, and nobody comes near them. What have you in the house now, that will be ready presently ? Host. You may have what you please, sir. Ht/p. Can you get us a partridge ? Host. Sir, we have no partridges ; but we'll get you what you please in a moment. We have a very good neck of mutton, sir ; if you please it shall be ; clapped down in a moment. 12 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act I. Hyp, Have you no pigeons or chickens ? Host, Truly, sir, we have no fowl in the house at present ; if you please, you may have any thing else in a moment. Hyp. Then, pr*ythce, get us feome young rabbits. Host. Upon my word, sir, rabbits arc so scarce, they are not to be had for moiiey ; but, if you please, you may have any thing else in a moment. Trap, Plague on thee I hast thou nothing but any thing else in the house ? Host. Very good mutton, sir. Hyp Pr'ythee get us a breast, then. Host. Breast ! don*t you love the neck, sir ? Hyp Have you nothing in the house but the neck ? Host. Really, sir, we don't use to be so unprovided ; but at present we have nothing else left. Trap. 'Egad, it's neck or nothing here ! Well, I don't know but a nothing else may be very good meat, when any thing else is not to be had. Hyp. Then, pr'ythee, friend, let's have thy neck of mutton, before that is gone too. Trap. Sir, he shall lay it down this minute ; I'll see it done, gentlemen ; I'll wait upon you present- ly ; for a minute I must beg your pardon, and leave to lay the cloth myself. Hyp. By no means, sir. Trap. No ceremony, dear sir ! Indeed I'll do it. [Exeunt Host and Tkappantt. Hyp. What can this familiar puppy be ? Flora. With much ado I have recollected his face. Don't you remember, madam, about two or three years ago, Don Philip had a trusty servant, called Trappanti, that used now and then to slip a note into your hand, as you came from church ? Hyp. Is this he that Philip turned away, for saying I was as proud as a beauty, and homely enough to be good-humoured ? SCENE I.] SHE WOu'd AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 13 Flora. The very same, I assure ye ; only, as you see, starving has aUertd his air a little. Hyp. I have a great mind to take liim into my ser- vice ; his assurance may be useful, as my case stands, Flore You would not tell him uho you are ? Hyp. There's no occasion for it I'll talk with him. Enter TuAPrAKTi. Trap. Your dinner's upon the spit, gentlemen, ancj the cloth is laid in the best room Are you not for a wiiet, sir ? What wine ? what wine ? hey ! Flora. We gi've you trouble, sir. Trap. Not in the least, sir Hey ! [Knocks. _ Enter Host. Host. D'ye call, gentlemen ? Hyp. Ay; what wine have ye? Host. \Vhat sort you please, sir. Flora. Sir, will you please to name it ? [To Trafpanti. Trap. Nay, pray, sir. Hyp. No ceremony, dear sir ! upon ray word you slia}!. T'rap. Upon my soul, you'll make me leave ye, gentlemen. Hyp. Come, come, no words. Pr'ythee, you shall. Trap. Psha ! but -why this among friends, now I Here have ye any right Galicia i Host. The best in 8pain, 1 warrant it. Trap. Let's taste it ; if it be good, set us out half a dozen bottles, for dinner. Host. Yes, sir. [Exit Host. Hyp. Pray, sir, (for I find we are like to be bet- ter acquainted, therefore 1 hope you won't take my question ill) Trap. O, dear sir ! Hyp. What profession may you be of? X% SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act u Enter Hot. Trap. Profession, sir I I 'Odsme! here's the wine. Come, fill out hold let rae taste it first-J- Ye blockhead ! would ye have the gentleman drink before he knows whether it be good or not i [Drinks.] Yes, 'twill do ^give me the bottle ; I'll fill myself. Now, sir, is not that a glass of right wine ? Hyp. Extremely good, indeed But, sir, as to my question. Trap. I'm afraid, sir, that mutton won't be enough for us all. " Hi/p. Oh, pray, sir, bespeak what you please. Trap. Sir, your most humble servant Here, master ! pr'ythee get us a ha ' ay, get us a dozen of poached eggs, a dozen, d'ye hear just to pop down a little. Host. Yes, sir. [^Going, Trap. Friend let there be a little slice of bacon to every one of them. Host> A little thin slice, sir ? [^Going, Trap. No, not too thih, you dog ! Hyp. But, sir Trap. 'Odso ! I had like to have forgot here, a - Sancho Sancho ! Ay, is not your name Sancho ? Host. Diego, sir. Trap. Oh, ay, Diego ; that's true, indeed, Diego. Umph ! Hyp. I must e'en let him alone ; there's no put* ting in a word till his mouth's full. Trap. Come, here's to thee, Diego. [^Drinks, and Jills again.'] That I should forget thy name, though.' Host. No great harm, sir. Trap. Diego ! ha ; a very pretty name, 'faith ! -I think you are married are you not, Diego ? Host. Ay, ay, sir. Trap. Ha ! how many children ? Host. Nine girls, and a boy, sir ! SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 15 Trap. Ha! nine girls! Come, here's to thee, i^ain, Diego Nine girls ' a stirring woman, I dare say ; a pood housewife, ha, Diego ? Host. Pretty well, sir. Trap. Makes all her pickles herself, I warrant ye Does r-he do olives well? Host Will \ ou be pleased to taste them, sir ? Trap. Taste them ! hum ! pr'ythee let's have a plate, Diego. Host. Yet-, sir. Hi^j). And our dinner as soon as you please, sir : when it's ready* call us. Host. Yes, sir. [Exit. Hyp. But, sir, I was asking you of your profes- sion. Trap. Profession ! really, sir, I don't use to pro- fess much : I am a plain-dealing sort of a man : if I say I'll serve a gentleman, he may depend upon me. Flora. Have you ever served, sir ? Trap. Not these two last campaigns. Hyp. How so? Trap. Some words with my superior officer ; I was a little too free in speaking ray mind to him. Hyp. Don't you t!)ink of serving again, sir ? Trap. If a good post fall in my way. Hyp. I believe I could help you. Pray, sir, when you served last, did you take pay or wages ? Trap. Pay, sir ! Yes, sir, I was paid, cleared, subsistence, and arrears to a farthing. Hyp. And your late commander's name was 2\ap. Don Philip de las Torres. Hyp. Of Seville? trap. Of Seville. ' Hyp. Sir, your most humble servant. You need not be curious, for 1 am sure you don't know me ; though I do you, and your coi di ion ; which I dare promise you Pll mend, upon our better acquaint- ance : and your first step to deserve it, is to answer 16 SHE wou'd and she wou*i> not. [act t* ttie honestly to a few questions. Keep your assurance Btill; it may do me service; I shall like you better for it. Come, here*s to encourage you. [Gives him money. Trap. Sir, my humble service to you. Hi/p. Well said ! Trap. I never heard a gentleman talk better in my life. I have seen such a sort of a face before ; but where 1 don't know, nor 1 don't care. It's your glass, sir. Hi/p. Come, now, what made Don Philip turn you out of his service ? why did you leave him ? Trap. *Twas time, I think ; his wits had left him the man was mad. Hi/p. Mad! Trap. Ay, stark mad in love. Hyp. In love ! how, pray ? Trap. Very deep up to the ears over head drowned by this time he would in 1 would have had him stopped, when he was up to the middle, Hi/p. What was she he was in love with i 2 rap. The devil. Hyp. So, now for a tery ugly likeness bf my own face ! [Aside.] What sort of a devil ? Trap. The damning sort ^a woman. Hyp. Had she no name i Trap. Her Christian name was Donna Hypolita; but her proper name was Shittlecock. Flora. How d'ye like that? [Aside to Hypolita. Hyp. Pretty well. \_Aside to Flora.] Was she handsome ? Trap. Umph ! so, so. Flora. How d'ye like that ? [To Hypolita. Hyp. Umph ! so, so. [To Flora.] Had she wit ? 'Trap. Sometimes. Hyp. Good humour? Trap. Very seldom. Hyp. Proud ? SCENE 1.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 17 Trap, Ever. Hyp. Was she honest ? Trap. Very proud. Hyp. What, had she no good qualities ? Trap. 'Faith, 1 don*t remember them. Hyp. Ha ! d'ye think she loved him ? Trap. If she did, 'twas as the cobbler ioved his wife. Hyp. How's that? Trap. Why, he beat her thrice a-day, and told his neighbours he loved her ne'er the worse ; but he was resolved she should never know it. Hyp. Did she use him so very ill ? Trap. Like a jade. Flora. How d'ye do, now ? [TbHypoLiTA. Hyp. I don't know methinks, 1 But, sure what, was she not handsome, say ye ? Trap. A devilish tongue. Hyp. What was she ? how did she look ? Trap. Look ! why, 'faith, the woman looked very well, when she had a blush in her face. , Hyp, Did she often blush ? Trap. I never saw her. Flora. How d'ye like the picture, madam ? [Aside. Hyp. Oh, oh, extremely well ! the rogue has put me into a cold sweat. I am as humble as an offend- ing lover. Enter Host. Host, Gentlemen, your dinner's upon the table. {Exit Host. Hyp. That's well. Come, sir ; at dinner I'll give you further instructions, how you may serve yourself and mc. , Trap. Come, sir. [To FLORAr Flora. Kay, dear sir ! no ceremony. 18 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act I. Trap. Sir, your very humble servant. [As thei/ are going, Hypolita stops them. Hyp, Back, back ; here's one I don't care should see me. Trap. Sir, the dinner will be cold. Jii/p. Do you eat it hot, then ; we are not hungry. Trap. Sir, your humble servant, again. [Exit Trap. Flora. You seem concerned ; who is it ? Hi/p. My brother, Octavio, as 1 live ! Come this way. [Thei/ retire* Enter OcxAvio anc? Jasper. Oct. Jasper, run immediately to Rosara's woman ; tell her I am just come to town ; slip that note into her hand, and stay for an answer. [^Exit Jaspkr. Fiora. 'Tis he I Host, [IVithin] Here, sir, please to walk this way. Flora. And Don Philip, by Jupiter 1 Enter Don Philip. Phil. When my servant comes, send him to me immediately. Host. [JVithin.] Yes, sir. - Hj/p. Nay, then, it is time for us to make ready- Allans ! [^Exeunt Hypolita and Flora. Oct. Don Philip ! Phil. Dear Octavio ! ' Oct. What lucky point of the compass could blovf us to one another so ? Phil. 'Faiih I a wind very contrary to my inclina- tion; but the worst, I see, blows some good. I am overjoyed to see you. But what makes you so far f.om the army ? Oct. Who thought to have found you so far from Seville >. Phil. What do you do at Madrid ? Oct* Oh, friend, such an unfortuua'e occislon, and SCKKX I.] SHE WOU*D AKD SHE WOU*D NOT. 19 yet such a lucky discovery ! such a mixture of joy and torment, no poor dog upori earth was ever plagued with. Phil. Unriddle, pray. Oct. Don't you remember, about six months ago, I wrote you word of a dear delicious, sprightly crea- ture, that I had bombarded for a whole summer ? Phil. I remember. Oct. You must know, her perfidious father, con- trary to his treaty with me, and her inclination, is going to Phil. Marry her to another Oct. Of a better estate than mine, it seems. She tells me, here, he is within a day's march of her, and begs me to come upon the spur to her relief. There's her express ; read it. Hypolita, Flora, one? Trappanti, appear in the Balcony. Flora. Trappanti, there's your old master. Trap. Ay, 1 know him again ; bdt I may chance to tell him he did not know a good servant when he had him. Phil. [Reads.] My father has concluded a match Jar me with one I never saw, and intends, in two daySy to perfect it: ike gentleman is expected every hour. In the mean time, if' you know any Jriend, that has a bet- ter title to me, advise himjbiihwilh to put in his claim. J am almost out of my senses, which you will easily be- lieve, when I tell you, if such a one should make haste, Isha*n*t have time to refuse him any thing, Phil. No name ? Oct. She never would trust it in a letter. Flora. If this should be Don Philip's mistress! 2Vaj3. Sir, you may take my word it is : I know the lady, and what the neighbours say of her. Phil. What will you do in this case ? Oct. That I don't yet know : I am half distracted ; 20 SHE WOU*D AND SUE WOU*D NOT. [ACT I. 1 have just sent my sei-vant to tell her I am come to town, and beg an opportunity to speak with her; I long to see her ; I warrant the poor fool will be so soft, and so humble, now she's in a fright ! Phil. What will you propose at your meeting her ? Oct. I don't know ; may be another meeting ; at least, it will come to a kind look, a kiss, good b'ye, and a sigh. Ah ! if I can but persuade her to run away with me ! Phil. Consider Oct. Ah ! so I do What pleasure 'twould be, to have her steal out of her bed in a sweet moonshiny night ; to hear her come pat, pat, pat, along in her slippers ; with nothing but a thin silk nightgown loose about her ; and, in this tempting dress, to have her jump into my arms, breathless with fear ! Phil. Octavio, I envy thee ! thou art the happiest man in thy temper * Oct. And thou art the most altered I ever knew. Pr'ythee, what makes thee so much upon the hum- 'drum ? Well, are my sister and you come to a right understanding yet ? When do you marry ? Hyp. So, now I shall have ray picture by another hand ! Phil. My condition, Octavio, is very much like your mistress's ; she is going to marry the man she never saw, and I the woman. Oct. 'Sdeath ! you make me tremble ! I hope, 'tis not my mistress ! Phil. Thy mistress ! that were an idle fear. Ma- drid's a wide place ; or, if it were, (she loving you) my friendship and my honour would oblige me to desist. Oct. That's generous, indeed : but still you amaze .me ! Are you quite broke off with my sister ? I hope she has given you no reason to forget her. Hyp. Now I tremble. 10 Scene i.] she wou'd and she wou'd not. 21 Phil. The most severe that ever beauty printed in the heart of man ; a coldness unaccountable to sense. Oct. Psha! dissembled, Phil. I can't think it ; lovers are soon flattered into hope ; but she appeared to me indiffe'ent, to so nice a point, that she has ruined me without the trou- ble of resolving it. Oct. For all her usage of you, I'll be racked if she did not love you. Phil. I rather think she hated me : however, now *tis past, and I must endeavour to think no more of her. Oct. Then you are determined to marry this other kdy? Phil. That's my business to Madrid. Trap. Which shall be done to your hand. Phil. Besides, I am now obliged by contract. Oct. Then, though she be my sister, may some Jealous, old, ill-natured dog, revenge your quarrel to her ! Hyp. Thank you, sir ! Phil. Come, forget it. Hijp. Come, we have seen enough of the enemy's motions, to know 'tis time for us to decamp. [Exeunt Hypolita, Flora and Trappanti. Oct. With all my heart; let's go in, and drink your new mistress's health. When do you visit her ? Phil. I intended it immediately ; but an unlucky accident has hindered me : one of my servants fell sick upon the road, so that i am forced to make shift with one, and he is the most negligent, sottish rogue in nature : has left ray portmanteau, where all my writings and letters of concern are, behind him, at the la^t town we lay at ; so that I cannot properly visit the lady, or her father, till 1 am able to assure them who 1 am. Oct. Why don't you go back yourself, to see for them i 22 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act I. Phil. I have sent my servant, for I ana really tired : I was loth to appear so much concerned for them, lest the rascal should think it worth his while to run away with them. Enter Jasper. Oct. How now ? Jasp. Here's an answer, sir. [ Gives a letter and exit. Oct. [To Don Philip.] My dear friend, I beg a thousand pardons ; I must leave you this minute ; the kind creature has sent for me. I am a soldier, you know, and orders must be obeyed ; when I come off duty, I'll immediately wait upon you. Phil. You'll find me here, or hear of me. Adieu ! Here, house ! [Exit Octavio. Enter Host. < . Pr'ythee, see if my servant be come yet. Host. I believe he is, sir; is he not in blue ? Phil. Ay where is the sot ? Host. Just refreshing himself with a glass at the gate. Phil. Pray tell the gentleman Pd speak with him. \_Exit Host.] In all the necessaries of life, there is not a greater plague than servants. Hey, Soto ! Soto ! Enter Soto, drunh Soto. Did you please to to call, sir ? PAi7. What's the reason, blockhead, I must always iwait upon you, thus ? Soto. Sir, I did not know any thing of it. I I- came as soon as you se se se sent for me. Phil. And why not without sending, sir ? Did you think I expected no answer to the business I sent you about? ' SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 23 Soto. Yes, sir T did think you would be willing that is to have an account so I staid to take a glass at the door, because I would not be out of the way huh ! Phil. You are drunk, rascal ! Where's the port*- manteau ? Soto. Sir, I am here if you please, 1*11 give yoti the whole account how the matter is huh ! PhiL Speak, villain ! [Strikes him, Soto. I will, sir, as soon as I can put my words into an intelligible order : I ar'n't running away, sir. Phil. To the point, sirrah ! Soto. Not of your sword, dear sir ! Phil. Sirrah, be brief, or I'll murder you ; where's the portmanteau ? Soto. Sir, as I hope to breathe, I made all the strictest search in the world, and drank at every house upon the road, going and coming, and asked about it ; and so, at last, as I was coming within a mile of the town here, I found then Phil. What? Soto. That it must certainly be lost ! Phil. Dog ! d'ye think this must satisfy me ? [Beats him. Soto. Lord, sir, you won't hear reason Are you sure you ha'n't it about you ? If I know any thing of it, I wish 1 may be burnt ! PhiL Villain 1 your life can't make me satisfaction ! Soto. No, sir; that's hard a man's life can't for my part I I Phil. Why do I vent my rage against a sot, a clod of earth ? I should accuse myself, for trusting him. Soto. Sir I had rather bought a porimanteaii, out of my own pocket, than have had such a life about it. Phil. Be dumb ! Soto. A huh ! Yes. Phil. If this rascal had stole it, sure he would not 24 SHE wou'd and she vtou'd not. [act I. have ventured to come back again ! I am confound- ed ! Neither Don Manuel, nor his daughter, know me, nor any of his family. If I should not visit him till 1 can receive fresh letters from my father, he'll, in the mean time, think himself affronted by my ne- glect. What shall I do ? Suppose 1 go and tell him my misfortune, and begliis patience till we can hear again from Seville. I must think. Hey, sot ! [Kvif, Soto. I ]iad rather have bought a portmanteau, out of my own pockety than have had such a life about it. {_Exit, Enter Hypolita, Flora, and Tkappanti. Trap. Hold, sir : let me touch up your foretop a little. H^p. Well, Trappanti, you know your business; and if Imarry the lady, you know my promise too. Trap. Sir, I shall remember them both 'Odso ! I had like to have forgot Here, house ! a bason and wash-ball I've a razor about me. Hey ! [Knocks. Hyp. What's the matter ? Trap. Sir, you are not shaved. Hijp. Psha ! pr'ythee, don't stand fooh'ng- we*re in haste. Flora. Ay, ay, shave another time. Trap. Nay, what you please, sir ; your beard is not much you may wear it to-day. [Taking her by the chin* . Flora Ay, and to-morrow too : pray, sir, will you see the coach ready, and put in the things ? Trap. Sir, I'll see the coach ready, and put in the things. [Exit TRAPPANxr. Flora. Come, madam, courage ! Now, let's do something for the honour of our sex give a proof of our parts and tell mankind we can contrive, fa- ACT II.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOD*D NOT. 23! tigue, bustle, and bring about, as well as the best of them. Hifp. Well said. Flora : for the honour of our sex be it then ; and let the grave dons think themselves as wise as they please : but Nature knows there goes more wit to the management of some amours, than the hardest point in pohtics : Therefore, to men th* affair of state's confined ; Wisel}', to us the state of love's assign'd, As love's the weightier bus'ness of mankind. ACT THE SECOND, SCENE I. Don Manuel's House. Enter Rosara and Viletta. Vil. Hear reason. Ros. Talk of Octavio then. Vil. How do you know but' the gentleman, your father designs you tor, may prove as pretty a fellow as he? Ros. Do you expect Octavio should thank you for this? ^ Vil. The gentleman is no fool. Ros, He'll hate any one that is not a friend to his love. S6 SHE WOU'd and she WOu'd not. [act II. Vil. Hang them, say I : but can't one quench the thirst without jumping into the river ? Is there no difference between cooling and drowning ? If Octa- vio must be the man, I say let Don Philip be the husband. Ros. I tell you, fool, I'll have no man but an hus- band, and no husband but Octavio : when you find I am weary of him, I'll give you leave to talk to me of somebody else. Vil. In vain, I see 1 have done, madam one must have time to be wise : but, in the mean while, what do ye resolve? positively not to marry Don Philip ? Ros. I don't know what I shall do till I see Octa- vio. When did he say he would be here ? Vil. Oh I I dare iiot tell you, madam. Ros. Why i Vil. I am bribed to the contrary. Ros. By whom ? Vil. Octavio ; he just now sent me this lovely piece of gold, not to tell you what time he would be here. Ros. Nay then, Viletta, here are two pieces that are twice as lovely ; tell me, when shall I see him ? Vil. Umph ! these are lovely pieces indeed ! [^Smili7ig. Ros. When, Viletta ? Vil. Have you no more of them, madam ? Ros. Psha! there, take purse and all; will that content thee ? Vil. Oh, dear madam! I should be unconscion- able to desire more ; but really, 1 was willing to have them all first. [Courtesying. Ros. When will he come ? Vil. Why, the poor gentleman has been hankering about the house this quarter of an hour ; but I did not observe, madam, you were willing to see him, till you had convinced me by so plain a proof. SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 27 Ros. Where's my father ? Vil. Fast asleep, in the great chair. Ros. Fetch hira in then, before he wakes. Vil. Let him wake, his habit will protect him. Ros. His habit ! Vil. Ay, madam ; he's turned friar, to come at you ; if your father surprises us, I have a lie ready to back him. Hist, Octavio! you may enter. Enter Octavio, in a Friar's Habit. Oct. After a thousand frights and fears, do I live to see my dear Rosara once again, and kind ? Ros. What shall we do, Octavio ? [^Looking Icindly on Mm, Oct. Kind creature ! Do ! why, as lovers should do; what nobody can undo ; let's run away this mi- nute, tie ourselves fa^t in the church knot, and defy fathers and mothers. Ros. And fortunes too ? Oct. Psha ! we shall have it one day : they must leave their money behind them. Ros. Suppose you first try my father's good-na ture ? You know, he once encouraged your ad- dresses. Oct. First, let's be fast married : perhaps he may be good-natured, when he can't help it. Come, come, stand to your arms ; whip a suit of night clothes into your pocket, and let's march off in a body to- gether. Don Manuel [Without.] Viletta! Viletta! Ros. Ah ! my father ! Oct. Dead! Vil. To your function. Enter Don Manuel. Man. Viletta! Vil. Sir! iVffln. Where's my daughter? ^ SHE WOU'd and she WOu'd NOT. [ACT II. Vil Hist ! don't disturb her. Man. Disturb her ! Why, what's the matter ? Vil She's at confession, sir. Man. Confession! 1 don't like that; a young wo- man ought to have no sins at all. Vil. Ah ! dear sir, there's no living without them. Mail'' She's now at years of discretion. Vil. There's the danger, sir ; she's just of the tastr ing age: one has reaily no relish of a sii) till fifteen. Man. Ah! then the jades have swinging stomachs. I find, her aversion to the marriage I have proposed her, has put her upon disobedient thoughts : there can be no confession without guilt Vil. Nor no pardon, sir. without confession. Man. Fiddle faddle I I won't have her seem wick- ed. Hussy, you shall confess for her ; I'll have her send her sins by you; you know them, I'm sure ; but I'll know what the friar has got out of her 'Save you, father ! . Oct. Bless you, son 1 Man. How now ! What's become of Father Bene* diet ? Why is not he here ? Vil. Sir, he is not well ; and so desired this gentle- man, his brotlior here, to officiate for him. Man. He seems very young, for a confessor. Vil. Ay, sir ; he has not been long at it. Oct. Nor don't desire to l;e long in it. \^Aside. Man. Well, sir, how do you find the pulse of ini- quity beat there ? What sort of sin has she most sto- mach to i Oct. Why truly, sir, we have all frailties, and your daughter has had most powerful temptations. Man. Nay, the devil has been very busy with her these two days. Oct She has told me a most lamentable story. Man. Ten to one but this lamentable story proves a most danmable lie ! Oct. Indeed, son, I find by her confession, that you SCEKE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 29 are much to blame for your tyrannical government of her. '^Man. Hey-day ! what, has the jade been inventhig sins for me, and confessing them instead of her own i Let me come she shall be locked up till she repents them too. But pray, if you please, let's come to the point : what are these terrible cruelties that this ten- der lady accuses me of ? Oct. Why, she confessed her first maiden, innocent affection had long been settled upon a young gentle- man, -whose love to her you once encouraged, and after their most solemn vows of mutual faith, you have most barbarously broke in upon her hopes ; and, to the utter ruin of her peace, contracted her to a man she never saw. Man. Very good ! I see no harm in all this. Oct. Methinks the welfare of a daughter, sir, might be of weight enough to make you serious. Man. Serious ! so I am, sir. What a devil ! must I needs be melancholy, because I have got her a good husband ? Oct. Her melancholy may tell you, sir, she can't think him a good one. Man. Sir, I understand thinking better than she ; and I'll make her take my word. Oct. What have you to object against the man she hkes ? , Man. The man I like. Oct. Suppose the unhappy youth she loves should throw himself at your feet, and try to melt you into pity ? Ma7i. Ay ! that if he can. Oct. Were you one moment to reflect upon the pangs which separated lovers fee! ; were nature dead in you, that thought might wake her. Alan. Sir, when I am asked to do a thing I have not a mind to do, my nature sleeps hke a top. Oct, Then 1 must tell you, sir, this obstinacy 2 c $0 ' SHE WOU'd and she WOU'D not. [act II. obliges me, as a churchman, to put you in mind of your duty, and to let you know too, you ought to pay more reverence to our order. Man, Sir, I am not afraid of the sin of marrying my daughter to the best advantage ; and so, if you please, father, you may walk home again when any thing lies upon my conscience, I'll send for you. Oct. Nay, then, 'tis time to claim a lover's right, and to tell you, sir, the man that dares to ask Rosara from me is a villain. [^Ihroivs off his disguise. ViL So ! here will be fine work ! [^Aside. Man. Octavio ! the devil ! Oct. You'll find me one, unless you do me speedy justice: since- not the bonds of honour, nature, nor submissive reason can oblige you, I am reduced to take a surer, shorter way, and force you to be just. I advise you, sir, to think on't. [^Walks about angrilij. Man. Ah ! here's a confessor ! ah ! that jade of mine ! and that other jade of my jade's Mere has been rare doings! Weill it sha'n't hold long; madam shall be noosed to-morrow morning Ha I Sir's in a great passion here, but it won't do those long strides, don, will never bring you the sooner to your mistress. Rosara ! step into that closet, and fetch my spectacles off the table there. \Sirigs. Vil. I don't like the gentleman's looks. [Aside. Ros. This obstinacy of yours, my dear father, you shall find runs in the family. , [Exit Rosara, and Don Manuel loch her in. Man. Tum ! dum ! dum ! [Sings. Oct. Sir, I would advise you, as your nearest friend, to defer this marriage for three days. Man. Tum ! dum ! dum ! ViL Sir, you have locked my mistress in. [Pertltj, J\Ian. Tum ! dum ! dum ! Vil. If you please to lend me the key, sir, I'll let her out. 3Ian. Tum I dura ! dum ! SCENE I.] SHE WOu'd AND SHE WOC'd NOT. 81 Oct, You miuht afford me at least, as I am a gen- tleman, a civil answer, sir. Man. Why, then, in one word, sir, you shall not niarr^ my daughter ; and, as you are a gentleman, I'm sure you won't think it good manners to stay in my house, when I submissively beg of you to walk out. Oct. Vou are the fatlier of my mistress, and some- thing, sir, too old to answer as you ought this wrong ; therefore I'll look for reparation where I can with ho- nour take it ; this, sir, be sure of, the man that otters at Roi;ara's love, shall have one virtue, courage, at least ; I'li be his proof of that, and ere he steps before me, force him to deserve her. [Exit Octavio. Man. Ah! poor fellow ! he's mad now, and does not know what he would be at. But, however, 'twill be no harm to provide against him Who waits there ? - Enter a Servant. Run you for an alguazil, and bid your fellows arm themselves ; I expect mischief at my door immediate- ly: if Octavio offers any disturbance, knock him down, and bring him before me. [Exit Servant. Vil. Hist! don't 1 hear my mistress's voice i Jlos. [(Vilhin.] Viletta! Vil. Here, here, madam Bless me 1 what's this? [Viletta listens at the closet door., and Ro- sara thrusts a bilUt to Iter through the keyr hole. Ha ! a billet to Octavio a hem. [Pats it into her bosom. Man. How now, hussy ? What are you fumbling about that door for i Vil. ^ othing, sir ; I was only peeping to see if my mistress had done prayers yet. Man. Oh ! she had as good let them alone ; for she shall never come out till she has stomach enough to fall to upon the man I have provided for her. But hark 32 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act ir. you, Mrs Modesty, was it you pray, that let in that able comforter for my babe of grace there ? Vil. Yes, sir, I let him in. \^Pertly. Man. Did you so? Ha! then if you please, ma- dam, I'll let you go out go go get a sheet of brown paper, pack up your things, and let me never see that damn'd ugly face of thine as long as I live. Vil. Bless me, sir ! you are in a strange humour, that you won't know when a servant does as she should do! Man. Thou art strangely impudent ! Vil. Only the farthest from it in the world, sir. Man. Then I am strangely mistaken ; didst not thou own just now thou let'st him in ? Vil. Yes but 'twas in disguise for I did not de- sign you should see him, because I know you did not care my mistress should see him. Man. Ha! Vil. And I knew, at the same time, she had a mind to see him. Man. Ha! Vil. And you know, sir, that the sin of loving him had laid upon her conscience a great while ; so I thought it high time she should come to a thorough confession. Man. Ha! Vil. So upon this, sir, asyousee^ I I I let him in,~that's all. Man, Nay, if it be so as thou sayest, he was a pro- per confessor indeed ! Vil* Ay, sir ; for you know this was not a spiritual father's business. Man. No, no, this matter was utterly carnal. Vil. Well, sir, and judge you now if my mistress is not beholden to me ? Man. Oh ! extremely ; but you'll go to hell, my dear, for all this ; though, perhaps, you'll chuse that place : I think you never much cared for your bus- SCENE I.] SHE WOU* AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 33 band's company ; and, if I don't mistake, you sent him to heaven, in the old road. Hark ! what noise is that ? [Noise xvithoiit. Vil. So, Octavio's pushing his fortune he'll have a wife or a halter, that's positive I'll go see- [Exit VlLETTA. iinf^r SancSo, hastily. Man. How now ? San. O, sir, Octavio has set upon a couple of gen- tlemen, just as they were alighting out of a coacii, at the door ; one of them, I believe, is he that is to mar- ry my young mistress, Man. Run into the hall, take down ray back, breast, and head-piece ; call an officer ; raise the neighbours ; [Exit Sancho] give me my great gun ; I'll shoot him out of the garret-window. {Exit Don Manuel. Enter Hypoltta and Flora, putting up their Swords; OcTWio in the Alguazil's Hands, and Trap- panti. Hi/p. Bring him along This is such an inso- lence ! damn it ! at this rate no gentleman can walk the streets. Flora. I suppose, sir, your business was more with our peckers than our persons. Are our things safe ? Trap. Ay, sir, I secured them, as soon as ever I saw his sword out ; I guessed his design, and scoured off with the portmanteau. Hyp. I'll know now who set you on, sir. Oct. Pr'ythee, young man. don't be troublesome, but thank the rascal that knocked me down, for your escape. Hi/p. Sir, I'd have you know if you had not been knocked down, I should have owed my escape to the same arm you would have owed the reward for your insolence. Pray, sir, what arc you i \\\io knows you? S4 SHE wou'd and she tvou*d not. [act n. Oct. Vm glad, at least, to find it is not Don Philip that's my rival. [_ Aside. San, Sir, my master knows the gentleman very TV'eli ; he belongs to the army. Hj/p Then, sir, if you'd have me use you like a gentleman, 1 desire your meaning of those familiar questions you asked me at the coach side. Oct. *Faith, young gentleman, I'll be very short: I love the lady you are to marry, and if you don't quit your pretences in two hours, it will entail perpetual danger upon you and your family. Hi/p. Sir, if you please, the danger's equal for rot me, if 1 am not as fond of cutting your throat, as you can be of mine. Oct. If I were out of these gentlemen's hands, on my word, sir, you should not want an opportunity. H?/p. O, sir ! these gentlemen shall protect neither of us ; my friend and I'll be your bail from them. Flora. Ay, sir, we'll bail you ; and if you please, sir, bring your friend, I'm his. Damme ! what, d'ye think you have boys to deal with ? Oct. Sir, I ask your pardon, and shall desire to kiss your hands about an hour hence at [Whispers. Flora. Very well, sir, we'll meet you. Hyp. Release the gentleman. San. Sir, we dare not, w ithout my master's order. Here he is, sir. Enter Don Manuel. Man. How now, bully confessor ? What ! in limbo? Hi/p. Sir, Don Ferdinando de las Torres, whom I am proud to call my father, commanded me to deliver this into the hands of his dear and worthy friend, Don Manuel Grimaldi, and at the same time gave me assurances of a kind reception. Man. Sir, you are thrice welcome ; let me embrace you. I'm overjoyed to see you Your friend, sir ? SCENE I.] SUE WOU*I> AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 35 H^p, Don Pedro Velada, my near relation, who has done me the honour of his company from Seville, sir, to assist at the solemnity of his friend's happiness. Man, Sir, you are welcome ; I shall be proud to know you. Flora. You do me honour, sir. Man. I hope you are not hurt, gentlemen ? Hyp. Not at all, sir ; thanks to a little skill in tho sword. Man. I am glad of it ; however, give me leave to interrupt our business for a moment, till I have done you justice on the "person that offered you this inso- lence at my gate. Hyp. Your pardon, sir ; I understand he is a gen- tleman, and beg you would not let my honour suffer, by receiving a lame reparation from the law. Man. A pretty mettled fellow, *faith I must not let him fight though. \_Aside.'\ But, sir, you don't know, perhaps, how deeply this man is your enemy ? Hyp. Sir, I know more of his spleen and folly than you imagine, which, if you please to discharge him, I'll acquaint you with. Man. Discharge him ! Pray consider, sir [They seem to talk. Enter Viletta, and slips a Note into Octavio's Hand. Vii. Send your answer to me. [Exit Viletta, Oct. [Aside.^ Now for a beam of hope in a tempest. [Reads] I charge you^don^t hazard my ruin and your own, by the madness of n quarrel ; the closet xuindow, tvhere I am^ is but a step to the ground : he at the back door of the garden, exactly at the close of the evening, voheveyou xuill certainly j^nd one, that may put you in the best way of getting rid of a rival. Dear, kind creature! Now, if my little don's fit of honour does but hold out to bail me, I am the happiest dog in the universe. 56 SHE WOU'd ANi) SHE HOU'd NOT. [ACT II. Man. Well, sir, since I find your honour is dipped so deep in the matter, here release the gentleman. Flora. So, sir, j^ou have your Ireedom ; you may depend upon us. {^Exeunt Servants. Hi/p. You will find us punctual Sir, your ser- vant. Oct. So, now I have a very handsome occasion to fut off the tik too Gentlemen, I ask your pardon; begin to be a little sensible of the rashness 1 com- mitted ; and 1 confess your manner of treating me has been so very much like men of honour, that I think myself obliged, from the same principle, to as- sure ye, that though 1 love Kosara equal to my life, yet no consideration shall persuade me to be a rude enemy, even to my rival. 1 thank you for my free- dom, and am your humble servant. [Exit. Hi/j). Your servant, sir I think we released my brothei* very handsomely ; but I ha'n't done with him. [Aside to Flora. Man. What can this sudden turn of civility mean ? I'm afraid 'tis but a cloak to some new roguery he has in his head. Jfvp. I don't know how old it may be, but my ser- vant here has discovered a piece of villainy of his, that exceeds any other he can be capable of. Man. Is it possible i Why would you let him go then ? Hyp. Because I'm sure it can do me no harm, sir. Man> Pray be plain, sir ; what is it i Hyp. This fellow can inform you for, to say truth, he's much better at a lie. {^Aside. Man. Come hither, friend ; 'pray, what is this bu- siness ? Hyp. Ay, what was that you overheard between" Octavio and another gentleman, at the inn where we alighted ? Trap. Why, sir," as I was unbuckling my portman- teau, in the yard there, I observed Octavio and an- SCENE I.] SHE WOU'D AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 37 Other spark very familiar with your honour's name ; upon which, sir, I pricked up the ears of ray curio- sity, and took in all their discourse. Man. Pray, who was that other'spark, friend ? Trap. A brother rake, sir : a damned sly-looked fellow. Man. So. Flora. How familiarly the rogue treats his old master ! [Aside J Hyp. Poor Don Philip ! {Aside. Trap. Says one of them, sa5's he, No, damn him, the old rogue (meaning you, sir,) will never let you have her by fair means ; however, says Octavio, I'll try soft words ; but if those won't do, bully him, says t'other. Man. Ah, poor dog ! but that would not do ei- ther, sir ; he has tried them both to-day to no pur- pose. Trap, Say you so, sir ? then you'll find what I say is all of a piece. Well, and if neither of these will do, says he, you must e'en tilt the young prig, your rival ; meaning you then, sii'. [To Hyi'olita. Man. Ha ! ha ! that, I perceive, my spark did not greatly care for. Trap. No, sir ; that he found was catching a Tar- tar. 'Sbud ! my master fought like a lion, sir. Hyp. Truly I did not spare him. Flora. No, 'faith after he was knocked down. [^ A side. Trap. But now, sir, comes the cream of the ro- guery. Hyp. Pray observe, sir. Trap. Well, says Slylooks, and if all these fail, I have a rare trick in my head, that will certainly defer the marriage for three or four days at least, and in that time, the devil's in't if you don't find an oppor* tunity to run away with her, s S8 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. [ACT II. Man. Would you so, Mr Dog ? but he'll be hang- ed. Pray what was this trick to be, friend i Trap. Why, sir, to alarm you, that my master was an impostor, and thai Slylooks was the true Don Phi- lip sent by hLs father from Seville, to marry your daughter ; upon which, (says he) the old put (meaning you again, sir,) will be so bamboozled, that Man. But pray, sir, how did }oung Mr Coxcomb conclude, that the old put was to believe all this ? Had they no sham proofs, that they proposed to bam- boozle me with, as you call it ? Trap. You shall hear, sir, the plot was pretty well laid too I'll pretend, says he, that the rascal, your rival, (meaning you then, sir,) has robbed me of my portmanteau, where I had put up all my jewels, money, and letters of recommendation from my father ; we are neither of us known in Madrid, says he, so that a little impudencLi, and a grave face, will certainly set those two dogs a snarling, while you run away with the bone. That's all, sir. Man. Inipudent rogue ! Hi/p. What think ye, sir ? Was not this business pretty handsomely laid ? Flora. 'Faith, it might have wrought a very ridi- culous consequence. Matt. Why, truly, if we had not been fore-armed by this discovery, for aught I know, Mr Dog might Jiave ran away with the bone indeed ; but, if you please, sir, aince these ingenious gentlemen are so pert upon the matter, we'll e'en let them see, that' you and I have wit enough to do our business, and e'en clap up the wedding to-morrow morning. H^. Sir, you are too obliging But will your daughter, think ye, be prevailed with ? You'll ex- cuse me, gentlemen. Man. Sir, Pll prepare her this minute Pll return loiipcdiately, and then, if you please, we'll run over SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 39 some old stories ofmy good friend, Fernando Your servant. \^Exit Don Manukl. H^p. Sir, your most humble servant Trappanti, thou art a rare fellow ! thou hast an admirable brazen face, and when thou diest, I'll have thy whole statue cast all in the same metal. Flora. 'Twere pity the rogue was not brought up to the law. Trap. So 'tis, indeed, sir A man should not praise himself; but if I had been bred to the gown, 1 dare venture to say, I become a lie as well as any raaa that wears it. Uj/p* Nay, now tliou art modest But, sirrah, we have more work for ye you must get in with the servants, attack the lady'^j woman ; there, there's am- munition, rogue ! [Gives^him money.] Now, try if you can make a breach into the secrets of the fa- mily. Trap. Ah, sir, I warrant you I could never yet meet with a woman that was this sort of pistol-proof 1 have known a handful of these do more than a barrel of gunpowder. Flora. Well, what must we do next ? Hi/p, Why, now for the lady 1*11 be a Httle brisk upon her, and then Flora. Victoria! [Exeunt. 40 SHE WOU'B and 8HE WOU*D NOT. [ACT IM. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. A Room in Don Manuel's' House. Enter Viletta, hastily, Don Manuel and Trappanti behind., observing her, Vil. So, with much ado, I have given the old don the slip ; he has dangled witli me through every room in the house, high and low, up stairs and down, as close to my tail, as a great boy hankering aftea* one of his mother's maids. Weil now we will see what Monsieur Octavio says. [Takes a letter from her bosom. Trap. Hist ! there she is, and alone. When the devil has any thing to do with a woman, sir, that's his time to take her. Stand close. Man. Ah, he's at work already There's a letter. Trap. Lenve her to me, sir, I'll read it. Vil. Hah, two pistoles ! Well, I'll say that for himj the man knows his business his letters alwaj^s come post-paid. \_While she is reading, Tkappanti steals behind, and looks over her shoulder.] Dear Vi' lettUf convey the inclosed immediately to your mistressy. and as you prize my life, use all possible means to keep the old trentlemnn from the closet, till you are sure she .is safe out of the winduxv. Your realjriendf Trap. Octavio. [Reading. Vit. Ah ! _ [Shriehiiig, Trap, Madam, your ladyship's most humble ser- vant! SCENE I.] SHE WOU'U AND SHE WOU*I> NOT. 41 ^ Vil. You*re very impertinent, methinks, to look over other people's letters. Trap. Why, I never read a letter in my life with- out looking it over. Vil. I don't know any business you had to look upon this. Trap. There's the thing your not knowing that, has put you into this passion. ViL You may chance to have your bones broke, Mr Coxcomb. Trap, Sweet Honeycomb ! don't be so waspish ; or, if I keep your counsel, d'ye see, I don't know why ray bones mayn't keep their places ; but if I peach, whose bones will pay for it then ? Vil. Ha! the fool says true 1 had better wheedle him. \^ Aside, Trap. Don't you love money above any thing in the world except one. Vil. I except nothing. Trap. Very good and pray, how many letters do you expect to be paid for, when Octavio has married your mistress, and has no occasion to write to her i while they are lovers, they will always have occasion for a confidant, and a go-between: but when they marry serviteur good night, vails our harvest is over. What d'ye think of me now i Vil. Why, I like what you say very well ; but I don't know, my friend, to me that same face of yours looks like the title-page to a whole volume of roguery What is it you drive at ? Trap. Money, money, money. Don't you let your mistress marry Octavio : I'll do my best to hin- der my master. Let you and I lay our heads toge- ther to keep them asunder, and so make a penny of them all three. Vil. Look you, signor, I'll meet you half way, and confess to you, I had made a rough draught of this project myself: but say I sliould agree with you ta P2 42 SHE wou'd and she wou' not. [act iir, go on upon*t, what security can you give me for per- fomiance of articles? Trap. More than bond or judgment my person in custody. Vil. Ah, that won't do. Trap. No, my love ! why, there's many a sweet bit in't taste it. [Offering to kiss her, she puts him avoay, Vil No. Trap. 'Faith, you must give me one. ViL Indeed, my friend, you are too ugly for me : though I am not handsome myself, 1 love to play with those that are. Trap. And yet, methinks, an honest fellow of my size and complexion, in a careless postiire, playing the fool thMs with his money [ Tosses a purse, she catches ity he hisses her. Vil. Psha ! Well, if 1 must, come then to see how a woman may be deceived at first sight of a man. Trap. Nay, then, take a second thought of me, child. \_Agai7u Man. Hah ! this is laying their heads together indeed. [^Behitid, Vil. Well, now get you gone I have a letter to give my mistress. Slip into the garden I'll come t'ye presently. Trap. Is't from Octavio? Vil. Pstia! begone, I say. [Snatches the letter. Trap. Hist! [TiiAPPANTi beckons Don Manuel, xuho goes softly behind. Vil. Madam I madam ! ah ! Man. Now, strumpet, give me the other letter, or I'll murder you. [Draixis, Vil. Ah lud ! oh lud ! there ! [SqueaJcing. Man. Now we shall see what my gentleman would be at [Reads.] My dear angel! Ha ! soft, and im- pudent ! Depend upon me at the garden door by seven SCENE I.] SHE W0U*1> ANB SHE WQU'd KOT. 43 this evening : pity my impatience^ and believe you can never come too soon to the arms of your ^ ta vro Ah ! now would this rampant rogue make no more of debauching my gentlewoman, than the gentlewo- man would of him, if he were to debauch her. r Hold let's see what does he say here um um ! [^ Reads to himself, Vil. What a sot was I to believe this old fool durst do me any harm ! but a fright's the devil ! Man. ^Reading.'] Um um! sure she is safe out of the window! Oh, there the mine is to be sprung then I Now, were I to act like a true Spaniard, I ought to rip up this jade, for more intelligence ; but I'll be wise ; a bribe and a lie will do my business a great deal better. Now, gentlewoman, what do ye think in your conscience I ought to do to ye ? Vil, What I think in ray conscience you'll not do to me make a friend of me You see, sir, I dare be an enemy. Ma7t. Nay, thou dost not want courage, I'll say that for thee : but is it possible any thing can make thee honest ? Vil, What do you suppose would make me other- wise ? Man. Money. Vil, You have nicked it. Man. And would the same sum make thee surely one as t'other ? Vil. That I can't say, neither ; one must be hea- vier than t'other, or else the scale can't turn. Man. Say it be so, would that turn thee into my interest ? Vil. The very minute you turn into mine, sir: judge yourself here stands Octavio, with a letter, and two pieces to give it to my mistress there stand you with a hem ! and four pieces where would the letter go, d'ye think i 44 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. [aCT III. Man. There needs no more I'm convinced, and will trust thee there's to encourage thee before- hand, and when thou bringest me a letter of Octa- vio's, 1*11 double the sura. Vil. Sir, I'll do it and will take care he shall write presently. [^ Aside. Man. Now, as you expect I should believe you, begone, and take no notice of what I have disco- vered. Vil. I am dumb, sir dumb. \^Exit. Man. So, this was done like a wise general : and now I have taken the counterscarp, there may be some hopes of making the town capitulate. Rosara ! [ Unlocks the closet. Enter Rosara. Ros. Did you call me, sir ? Man. Ay, child Come, be cheerful ; what I have to say to you I'm sure ought to make you so. In one word, set your heart at rest, for you shall marry Don Philip this very evening. Ros. That's but short warning, for the gentleman, as well as myself, for I don't know that we ever saw one another. How are you sure he will like me ? Man. Oh, as for that matter, he shall see yoa pre- sently ; and I have made it his interest to like you but if you are still positively resolved upon Octavio, I'll make but few words pull off' your clothes, and go to him. Ros. My clothes, sir ! Man. Ay, for the gentleman sha*n't have a rstg with you. Ros. When do you expect Don Philip, sir ? Man. Expect him, sir! he has been here this hour I only staid to get you out of the sullens. He's none of your humdrums all life and mettle I 'Odzooks, he has the courage of a cock ! a duel's but a SCENE I.] SHE WCu'd AND SHE WOU*D NOT 45 dance to him : he has been at sa ! sa ! sa ! for you already. Ros. Well, sir, I sha'n't be afraid of his courage, since I see you are resolved he shall be the man. He shall find me a woman, sir ; let him win me and wear me, as soon as you please. Man. Ah, now ihou art my own girl ! hold but in this humour one quarter of an hour, and I'll toss the t'other bushel of doubloons into thy portion Here, bid a Come, I'll fetch him myself^ She's in a rare cue, *faith ! ah, if he does but nick her now ! {^Exit. Ros. Noyv I have but one card to play if that don't hit, my hopes are crushed indeed : if this young spark be not a downright coxcomb, I may have a trick to turn all yet. Dear Fortune ! give him but common sense, I'll make it impossible for him to like me Here they come. [Walks carelessly and sings. I'll rove and I'll range Enter Don Manuel and Hypolita. Hi/p. Madam, 1 kiss your ladyship's hands. I find by your gaiety, you are no stranger to my busi- ness. Perhaps you expected I should have come in with a grave bow and a long speech, but my affairs are in a little more haste; therefore, if you please, madam, we'll cut the work short ; be thoroughly in- timate at the firtt sight, and see one another's hu- mours in a quarter of an hour, as well as if we had been weary of them this twelvemonth. Man. Ah ! Ros. Troth, sir, I think you are very much in the" right : the sooner I see you, the sooner 1 shall know whether 1 like you or not. Hyp. Psha ! as for that matter, you'll find mo "a. very fashionable husband ; I sha'n't expect ray wife to be over fond of me. 46 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*f> NOT. [aCT IU. Ros. But I love to be in the fashion too, sir, in ta- king the man I have a mind to. Hj/p Say you so ? why, then, take me as soon as you please. Ros. I only stay for my mind, sir ; as soon as ever that comes to me, upon ray word I'm ready to wait upon you. Ht/p. VVell, madam, a quarter of an hour shall break no squares. Sir, if youMl find an occasion to leave us alone, I see we shall come to a right under- standing presently. Man. Pli do it Sir, I must beg your pardon for a moment; but, if you please, in the mean time, I'll leave you my daughter, and so pray make your best of her. [Exit. Hyp. I thank ye, sir. f Hvpolita stands some time mute, looks carelessly at Rosa R A, and she smiles as in contempt of him.'} Why, now, methiiiks, ma- dam, you had as good put on a real smile, for 1 am doomed to be the happy man, you see. Ros. So my father says, sir. Hyp. I'll take his word. Ros. A bold man but he'll break it. Hyp. He won't. Ros. He must. Hyp. Whether he will or no ? Ros. He can't help it now. Hyp. How so, pray ? Ros. Because ho has promised you, you shall noar- ry me ; and he has always promised me, I should marry the man I could love. Hyp. Ay that is, he would oblige you to love the man you should marry. Ros. The man that I marry, will be sure of my love ; but, for the man that marries me mercy oa him! Hyp. No matter for that, I'll marry you. Ros. Come, I don't believe you are so ill-natured. SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AKD SHE WOU'o NOT. 47 Hyp. Why, dost thou not like me, child I Ros. Um No. Hi/p- What's the matter ? Ros. The old fault. Hyp. Whai? Ros. I don't like you. Hyp. Is that all i Ros No. Hyp. That's hard the rest? Ros. That you won't like. Hyp. I'll stand it try me. Ros. Why, then, in short, I like another : ano- ther man, sir, has got into niy head, and has made such work there, you'll never be able to set me to rights as long as you live. What d'ye think of me, now, sir ? Won't this serve for a reason why you should not marry me? Hyp. Um the reason is a pretty smart sort of a reason, truly, but it won't do To be short with ye, madam, I have reason to believe I shall be disinherit- ed if 1 don't marry you. Ros. And what have you reason to believe you shall bo, if you do marry me ? Hyp. In the Spanish fashion, I suppose, jealous to a degree. Ros. You may be in the English fashion, and something else to a degree. Hyp Oh, if Ihave not courage enough to prevent that, madam, let the world think me in the English city fashion content to a degree. Now, here in Spain, child, we have such things as back rooms, bar- red windows, hard fare, poison, daggers, bolts, chains, and so forth. Ros. Ay, sir, and there are such things as bribes, plots, shams, letters, lies, walls, ladders, keys, confi- dants, and so forth. Hyp. Hey ! a very complete regiment indeed ! what a world of service might these do in a quarter 48 SHE WOu'd and she W0U*D not. [act III. of an hour, with a woman's courage at the head of thera ! Really, madam, your dress and hvimour have the prettiest, loose, French air, something so quali- ty, that, let me die, madam, I believe in a month I should be apt to poison ye. Ros. So, it takes ! [Aside.] And let me die, sir, I believe, I should be apt to deserve it of ye. Hi/p. 1 shall certainly do it. Ros It must be in my breakfast then for I should certainly run away before the wedding dinner came up. Hi/p. That's over acted, but I'll startle her : [Aside.] Then I must tell you, madam, a Spanish husband may be provoked as well as a wife. Ros. My life on't, his revenge is not half so sweet ! and if she's provoked, 'tis a thousand to one but she licks her lips before she's nailed in her coffin. Hyp. You are very gay, madam. Ros. I see nothing to fright me, sir, for I cannot believe you'll marry me now I have told you my humour; if you like it you have a good stomach. Myp. Why, truly, you may probably lie a little heavy upon it, but I can better digest you than poverty: as for your inclination, I'll keep your body honest, however that shall be locked up; and if you don't love me then I'll stab you. Ros. With what ? your words ? it must be those you say after the priest then : You'll be able to do very little that will reach my heart, I assure ye. Hyp. ^ome, come, this humour is as much affect- ed as my own I codd no more bear the qualities you say you have, than I know you are guilty of them : your pretty arts, in striving to avoid, have cliarmed me. At my first view I wooed you only to secure a sordid fortune, which now 1 overjoyed could part with, nay, with my life with any thing, to purchase your unrivalled heart. Ros. Now 1 am plunged indeed ! [Aside-] Wei, sir, gCENE 1.3 SHE WOU'C AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 49 I own, you have discovered me ; and I now, from my sincerity, protest my heart's ah-eady given, from whence no power, or interest, shall recall it. If what I have said seems cold, or too neglectful of your me- rit, call it not ingratitude or scorn, but faith unmo- ved, and justice to the man I love. Hyp. Wejl, madam, to let you see I'm a friend to love (though love's an enemy to me,) give me but a seeming proof that Octavio's the undisputed master of your heart, and I'll forego the power your father's obligations give me, and throw my hopes into his arms with you. Ros. Sir, you confound me with this goodness. A proof 1 Command me to what proof you please ; or if you'll trust to my sincerity, let these tears ot joy con- vince you. Here, on my knees, by all my hopes of peace, I swear Hyp. Hold ! swear never to make any other man your husband but Octavio. Ros. I swear, and Heaven befriend me, as I keep t'lis vow inviolate! Hyp. Rise, madam, and now receive a secret, which I need not charge you to be careful of, since, as well your quiet as my own depends upon it. A little com- mon prudence between us, in all probability, before night, may make us happy in our separate wishes. Ros. What mean you, sir I sure you are some an- gel sent to my deliverance. Hyp. Truly, madam, I have been often told so;; but, like most angels of my kind, there is a mortal man in the world, who I have a great mind should know that I am but woman. Ros. A woman ! are not you Don Philip ? Hyp. His shadow, madam, no more; 1 just run before him nay, and after him too. Octavie, ma- dam, your lover, is my brother ray name HypoUta, my story )ou shall know at leisure. 50 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. [ACT III. Ros, Hypolita ! nay, then, from what you've said, and what i have heard Octavio say of you, I guess j'our story: but this was so extravagant a thought ! Hi/p. That's true, madam, it it it was a httle round about, indeed I might have found a nearer way to Don Philip ; but these men are such testy things, they can never stay one's tinie^ always in haste, just as they please now we are to Jook kind, then grave ^nowsoft, then sincere and so you see,- there is such a plague that I don't know one does not care to be rid of them neither. Jlos. A very generous confession! ^yp Well, madam, now you know me thoroughly, I hope you'll think me as fit for a husband as another woman. Here comes your father Come, put on a dumb, consenting air, and leave the rest to me. Enter Don Manuel. Man, So, son, how does the battle go now ? Have you cannonaded stoutly ? Does she cry quarter ? Hi/p. My dear father ! let me embrace your knees ; my lite's too poor to make you a return ^you have given me an empire, sir ; I would not change to be Grand Signior. Man. Ah, rogue ! he has done it, he has done it ; he has her ! ha ! is't not so, my little champion i Hyp. Victoria, sir ! the town's my own. Man. Ah, give me the great chair 1 can't bear my joy Ah, my c^res are over ! Hyp. Oh, I told you, sir, hearts and towns are liever too strong for a surprise. Man. Pi-'ytliee be quiet, I hate the sight of ye Rosara ! come hither, you wicked tiling, come hi- ther, I say. Ros. I am glad to see )'ou so well pleased, sir ! Man. Oh, I cannot live I can't live it ; it pour? upon me like a torrent ; I am full as a bumper i SCENE I.] SHE WOU*I> AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 51 runs over at my eyes ; I shall choke Answer me two questions, and kill me outright. Jtos. Any thing that will makeyou more pleased, sir. Man. Are you positively resolved to marry this gentleman ? Ros. Sir, I am convinced *tis the first match that can make me happy. Man. I am the miserablest dog alive and I war- rant you are willing to marry him to-morrow morn- ing if I should ask you i Jtos. Sooner, sir, if you think it necessary. Man. Oh, this malicious jade has a mind to destroy me at once Ye cursed toad! how did you do to get in with her so ? [To Hypolita. Ros. Come, sir, take heart, your joy won't be al- ways so troublesome. Man. You lie, hussy, I shall be plagued with it a long as I live. Hi/p. You must not live above two hours then. I Aside:. Man. I warrant this raking rogue will get her with child too I shall have a young squab Spaniard upon my lap, that will so grandpapa me! Well, what want you, gloomy face ? Enter Sancho. ' San. Sir, here's a gentleman desires to speak with you; he says he comes from Seville. Man. From Seville! Ha! pr'ythee let him go thi- ther again tell him, I am a little busy about being overjoyed. [Exit Sancho. Hi/p. My life on't, sir, this must be the fellow that my servant told you of, employed by Octavio. Man. Very likely. Enter Trappanti. Trap. Sir, sir News, news I Man Ay, this fellow has a good merry face now 52 SHE WOU*D ANO she WOU'D NbT. f ACT 111. I like him, Well, what dost thou say, lad ? But hold, sirrah! has any body told thee how it is with rae ? Trap. Sir? Man. Do you know, puppy, that I am ready td cry? Trap. Cry, sir ! for what ? Man. Joy ! joy ! you wlielp ; my cares are over ; madam's to marry your master, sirrah, and I am as wet with joy as if I had been thrown into a sea full of good-luck. Why don't you cry, dog ? Trap. Uh ! Well, sir, I do But now, if you please, let me tell you my business. Man. Well, what's the matter, sirrah ? Trap. Nay, no great matter, sir, only Slylooks is come, that's all. Man. Slylooks ! what, the bamboozler ? ha 1 ha i Trap. He, sir, he. Man. I'm glad of it, 'faith ^now I shall have a lit- tle diversion, to moderate my joy I'll wait on the gentleman myself Don't you be out of the way, son ; I'll be with ye presently Oh my jaws ! this fit will carry me off. Ye dear toad ! good-by'e. [Exif, Hyp. Ha ! ha ! ha ! the old gentleman's as merry as a fiddle ; how he'll start when a string snaps in the middle of his tune. Ros. At least, we shall make him change it, I be- lieve. Hi/p. That we shall : and here comes one that's to play upon him. Enter Flora, hastily. Flora. Don Philip, where are you ? I must needs ^peak with ye. Begging your ladyship's pardon, ma- dam. [^Whispers Hypolita.] Stand to your arms; the enemy's at the gate, 'faith ! Ros* Who can this youth be she is so familiar with ? ACT IV.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU*D NOT. o5 Hyp, [To Flora.] I like your advice so well, that, to tell you the truth, I have made bold to take it be- fore you gave it me. Come, I'll introduce ye. . Flora. Then the business is done. Hyp. Madam, if your ladyship pleases. [To ROSARA. Ros. Is this gentleman your friend, sir ? Hyp. This friend, madam, is my gentlewoman, at your service. Ros. Gentlewoman I What, are we all going into breeches then ? Flora. That used to be my post, madam, when I wore a needle ; but now I have got a sword by my side, I shall be proud to be your ladyship's humble servant. Ros. Troth, I think it's a pity you should either of you ever part with your swords : I never saw a pret- tier couple of adroit cavaliers in my life. Come, la- dies Gentlemen, I beg your pardon. [Exeunt. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I. Don Manuel's House. Enter Don Manuel and Don Philip. Man. Well, sir ; and so 3'ou were robbed of your portmanteau, you say, at Toledo, in which were all your letters and writings relating to your marriage with my daughter, and that's the reason you are come without them ? Phili I was not robbed of the regard I owe my fa- E 2 54) SHE WOU'd and she MrOU*B NOT. [act ITi ther's friend ; that, sir, I have brought with me, and 'twould have been ill manners not to hare paid it at my first arrival. A/aw. Ah, how smooth the spark is! [Aside.] Well, sir, I am pretty considerably glad to see you ; but i hope you'll excuse me if, in a matter of this conse- quence, I seem a little cautious ? PhiL Sir, I sha'n't propose any immediate progress in my affair, till you receive fresh advice from my fa- ther; in the mean time, I shall think myself obliged by the bare freedom of your house, and such enter- tainment as you'd at least afford a common stranger. Man. Impudent rogue ! the freedom of my house! yes, that he may be always at hand to secure the main chance for my friend Octavio But now I'll have a touch of a bamboozle '.vith him. [Aside.] Look ye, sir, while I see nothing to contradict what you say you are, d'ye see, you shall find me a gentleman- Phil. So my father told me, sir. Man. But then, on the other hand, d'ye see, a man's honesty is not always written in his face; and (beg- ging your pardon) if you should prove a daran'd ro- gue now, d'ye see ? Phil. Sir, I can't in reason take any thing ill that proceeds only from 30ur caution. 3Ian. Civil rascal ! [Aside.] No, no, as you say, I hope you won't take it ill, neither ; for how do I know, you know, but what you tell me (begging your pardon again, sir,) may be all a lie I Phil. Another man, indeed, might say the same to you ; but I shall take it kindly, sir, if you suppose me a villain no oftener than you have occasion to sus- pect me. Man. Sir, you speak like a man of honour, it is confessed; but, with your honour's leave, sir, is there nobody here at Madrid that knows you ? Phil. Sir, I never saw iVJadrid till within these two hours; though there is a gentleman in town that knew SCENE I.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 55 me intimately at Seville; I met him by accident, at Ihe inn where I alighted ; he's known here; if it will give you any present satisfaction, 1 believe I could easily produce him to vouch for me. Man. At the inn, say ye, did you meet this gentle- man ? What's his name, pray ? Phil. Octavio Cruzado. Man. Ha, my bully confessor ! this agrees word for word with honest Trappanti's intelligence [/iside.~] Well, sir, and pray what does he give you for this job ? Phil. Job, sir ! Man. Ay, that is, do you undertake it out of good fellowship, or arej'outo have a sort of fellow-feeling in the matter ? Phil. Sir, if you believe me to be the son of Don Fernando, I must tell ye, your manner of receiving me is what you ought not to suppose can please hira, or I can thank you for ; if you think me an impostor, I'll ease you of the trouble of suspecting me, and leave your house, till I can bring better proofs who I am. Man. Do so, friend ; and, in the mean time, d'ye see, pray give niy humble service to the politician, and tell him, thtrt, to your certain knowledge, the old fellow, the old rogue, and the old put, d'ye see, knows how to bamboozle as well as himself. Phil. Politician! and bamboozle! Pray, sir, let me understand you, that I may know how to answer you. Man. Come, come, don't be discouraged, friend sometimes, you know, the strongest wits must fail. You have an admirable head, it is confessed, with as able a face to it as ever was stuck upon two should- ers; but who the devil can help ill luck ? for it hap- pens at this time, d'ye see, that it won't do. Phil. Won't do, sir ? Man^ Nay, if you won't understand me now, here 5 56 SHE wou'd and she wou'd hot. [act IV. comes an honest fellow, that will speak you pokrt- blank to the matter. Enter Trappanti. Come hither, friend; dost thou know this gentle- man I Trap. Bless me, sir ! is it you ? Sir, this is ray old roaster I lived with at Seville. Phil. I remember thee ; thy name's Trappanti; thou wert my servant when I iirst went to travel. Trap. Ay, sir, and about twenty months after you came home too. Phil. You see, sir, this fellow knows me. Man. Oh, I never questioned it in the least, sir ! Pr'ythee, what's this worthy gentleman's name, friend? Trap. Sir, your honour has heard me talk of him a thousand times ; his name, sir ! his name is Guz- man : his father, sir, old Don Guzman, is the most eminent lawyer in Seville, was the very person that drew up the settlement and articles of my master's marriage with your honour's daughter : this gentle- man knows all the particulars as well as if he had drawn them up himself: but, sir, I hope there's n0 mistake in them, that may defer the marriage. Phil. Confusion 1 Man. Now, sir, what sort of answer d'ye think fit to make me ? Phil. Now, sir, that I'm obliged in honour not to leave your house, till 1 at least have seen the villain, that calls himself Don Philip, that has robbed me of my portmanteau, and would you, s^ir, of your honour and your daughter As for this rascal Trap. Sir, I demand protection. \_Runs behind Don Manuel. Man. Hold, sir; since you are so brisk, and in my own house too, call your master, friend : you'll find we have swords within can match you. , SCENE 1.3 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 5*7 Trap. Ay, sir, I may chance to send you one will take down your courage. [^Exit Trappanti. Phil. I ask your pardon, sir ; I must confess the villainy I saw designed against my ftlther's friend had transported me bej'ondgood manners; but be assured, sir, use me henceforward as you please, I will detect it, though I lose my life. Nothing shall affront me r\ov/ till 1 have proved myself your friend indeed, and Don Fernando's son. Man. Nay, look ye, sir, I will be very civil too I won't say a word you shall e'en squabble it out by yourselves; not but, at the same time, thou art to me the merriest fellow that ever I saw in my hfe. Enter HypoLiTA, Floha, and TBAPPANxr. Hyp. Who*s this, that dares usurp my name, and calls himself Don Philip de las Torres i Phil. Ha ! this is a young competitor indeed ! [^Aside. Flora. Is this the gentleman, sir ? Man. Yes, yes, that's he : ha ! ha ! Phil. Yes, sir, I'm the man who, but this morning, lost that name upon the road ; I'm informed an im- pudent young rascal has picked it out of some wri- tings in the portmanteau he robbed me of, and has brought it hither before me. D'ye know any such, sir? Flora. The fellow really does it very well, sir ! Man. Oh, to a miracle ! [_ Aside, Hyp- Pi'ythee, friend, how long dost thou expect thy imf dence will keep thee out of gaol ? Could not the coxromb that put thee upon this inform thee too, that this gentleman was a magistrate ? Man. Well said, my little champion ! Phil. Now, in my opinion, child, that might as well put thee in mind of thy own condition; for suppose thy wit and impudence; should so far succeed, as to let thee ruin this gentleman's feraily, by really may- 58 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act IV. rying his daughter, thou canst not but know 'tis im- possible tliou shouldst enjoy her long ; a very tew days must unavoidably discover thee : in the mean- time, if thou wilt f pare me the trouble of exposing thee, and generously confess thy roguery, thus far I'U forgive tliee ; but if thou still proceedest upon his credulity to a marriage with the lady, don't flatter thyself that all her fortune shall buy off my evidence, for I'm bound in honour, as well as law, to hang thee for the robbery. Hyp. Sir, you are extremely kind. Flora Very civil, 'egad. Hyp. But may not I presume, my dear friend, this wheedle was offered as a trial of this gentleman's cre- dulity > Ha ! ha ! ha ! Man, Indeed, my friend, 'tis a very shallow one. Canst thou think I'm such a sot as to believe, that, if he knew 'twere in thy power to hang him, he would not have run away at the first sight of thee ? Trap. Ay, sir, he must be a dull rogue, indeed, that would not run away from a halter. Ha ! ha ! ha ! \_All laughm Phil. Sir, I ask your pardon ; I begin now to be a little sensible of my folly I perceive this gentlemaa has done his business with you effectually : however, sir, the duty I owe my father obliges me not to leave your cause, though I'll leave your house Immediate- ly : when you see me next, you'll know Don Philip from a rascal. Man. Ah, 'twill be the same thing if I know a ras- cal from Don Philip ! So, when you see your friend, the politician, you must tell him you had cursed luck ; that's all. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Phil. Very well, sir ; I may have better when I see you next. Hyp. Look ye, sir, since your undertaking (thougli you designed it otherwise) has pi-omoted my happi- ness, thus far I pass it by ; though I questionif a man SCENE I.] SHE WOU*0 AND SHE WOtj'D NOT. 59 that stoops to do such base injuries dares defend them with his sword : however, now at least you're warn- ed ; but be assured, your next attempt Phil. Will startle you, my spark. I'm afraid you'll be a little humbler when you are handcutted. Though you won't take my w-ord against him, sir, perhaps another magistrate may my oath, which, because I see his marriage is in haste, 1 am obliged to make immediately. If he can outface the law too, I shall be content to be the coxcomb then you think me. \_Exit, Man, Ah, poor fellow ! he's resolved to carry it off with a good face, however. Ha ! ha ! Trap, Ay, sir, that's all he has for't, indeed. Hyp. Trappanti, follow him, and do as 1 directed. [Aside to Trappanti. Trap, I warrant ye, sir. [Exit. Man, Ha ! my little champion, let me kiss thee ; thou hast carried the day like a hero. Man nor wo- man, nothing can stand before thee. I'll make thee monarch of ray daughter immediately. iyp' That's the Indies, sir. [Exeunt. Enter Don Octavio, wth a Letlet'. Oct. Kosara false! distraction! Sure this letter must be but artifice, a humour to try how far my love can bear and yet, methinks, she can't but know the impudence of my young rival, and her fa- therms importunity, are too pressing to allow her any time to fool away : and, if she were really false, she could not take a pride in confessing it. Death ! I know not what to think ; the sex is all a riddle, and we are the fools that crack our brains to expound them* Enter Viletta. , Now, dear Viletta ! SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. [act IV. Vil. My lady begs your pardon ; they have just sent for the priest ; but they will be glad to see you about an hour hence, as soon as the wedding's over. ^ Oct. Viletta? %| Vil. Sir, she says, in short, she can't possibly speak with you now, for she is just going to be mar- ried. Oct. Death ! daggers ! blood ! confusion ! and ten thousand furies ! Vil. Hey-day ! what's all this for ? Oct> My brains are turned, Viletta. Vil. Ay, by my troth, so one would think, if one could but think you had any at all : if you have but three grains, I'm sure you can't but know her com- pliance with this match must give her a little liberty; and can you suppose she'd desire to see you an hour Iience, if she did not design to make use of it ? Oct. Use of it! death ! when the wedding's over? Vil. Dear sir, but the bedding won't be over^ and, I presume, that's the ceremony you have a mind to be master of. Oct. Don't flatter me, Viletta. Vil. 'Faith, sir, I'll be very plain : you are to me the dullest person I ever saw in my life ; but, if you have a mind, I'll tell her you won't come. Oct. No, don't say so, Viletta. Vil. Then, pray, sir, do as she bids you ; don't stay here to spoil your own sport ; you'll have the old gentleman come thundering down upon ye by and by, and then we shall have ye at your ten thousand furies again. Hist 1 here's company j good b'ye to ye. [Exit. Enter Don Philip, his Sword drawn, and Trappanti. Phil. Come, sir, there's no retreating now ; this you must justify. SCENE I.] SHE WOU'd AND SHE WOU'd NOT. 61 Trap. Sir, I will, and a great deal more ; but, pray, sir, give me, leave to recover my courage I protest ^ the keen looks of that instrument have quite frighted " it away. Pray, put it up, sir. Phtl. Nay, to let thee see I had rather be thy friend than enemy, I'll bribe thee to be honest. Discharge thy conscience like a man, and I'll engage to make these five ten pieces. Enter Sancho. Trap. Sir, your business will be done effectually. Phil. Here, friend, will ye tell your master I de- sire to speak with him ? [Exit Sancho. Oct. Don Philip ! Phil. Octavio ! this is fortunate indeed ; the only place in the world I would have wished to have found you in. Oct. What's the matter ? Phil. You'll see presently. But, pr'ythee, how- stands your affair with your mistress ? Oct. The devil take me if I can tell ye I don't know what to make of her ; about an hour ago she was for scaling walls to come at me; and this minute -whip, she's going to marry the stranger I told you of; nay, confesses too it is with her own consent; and yet begs, by all means, to see me as soon as her wedding's over. Is not it very pretty ? Enter Sancho. Phil. Something gay indeed. San. Sir, my master will wait on you presently. [^Exit, Oct. But the plague on't is, my love cannot bear this jesting. Well, now, how stands your affair ? have you seen your mistress yet i Phil. No, I can't get admittance to her. Oct. How so i 62 SHE wou'd and she wou*d not. [act iy. Phil. When I came to pay my duty here to the old gentleman Oct. Here! Phil. Ay, I found an impudent young rascal here before me, that hrid taken my name upon him, robbed me of my portmanteau, and by virtue of some papers there, knew all my concerns to a tittle : he has told a plausible laie to her taih--r, faced him down that I*m an impostor, and it J floa*t this minute prevent him, is going to tnarry the lady ! Oct. Confusi 'u i-ny friend at last my rival too Yet hold my rival is my friend ; he owns he has not seen her yet \^Aside. Phi. You set m concerned. Oct. Undone for ever, unless dear Philip's still my friend. Phil. What's the matter ? Oct. Forgive my fears, and since *tis impossible you can feel the pain of loving her you are engaged to marry, not having (as you own) yet ever seen her, let me conjure you, by all the ties of honour, friend- ship, and pity, never to attempt her more. Phil You amaze me ! Oct. 'Tis the same dear creature I so passionately dote on. Phil. Is it possible? Nay, then, be easy in thy thoughts, Octavio ; and now I dare confess the folly of ray own : I'm not sorry thou art my rival here. In spitt; of all my weak philosophy, I must own the se- cret wishes of my soul are still Hypolita's. Oct. Dear Philip ! But how shall we manage the rascal of an impostor i Suppose you run immediately and swear the robbery against him ? Phil. I was just going about it, but accidentally meeting with this fellow, has luckily prevented me, who, you must know, has been chief engineer in the contrivance against me, but between threats, bribes, SCENE I.] SHB WOD'd AND SHE WOu'd NOT. 63 and promises, has confessed the whole roguery, and is now ready to swear it against him ; so, because I un- derstand the spark is very near his marriage, I thought this would be the best and soonest way to detect hira. Oct. That's right ; the least delay might have lost all : besides, I am here to streugthen his evidence, for I can swear that you are the true Don Philip. PhiL Right. Trap. Sir, with humble submission, that will be quite wrong. Oct. Why so ? Trap. Because, sir, the old gentleman is substantially convinced, that 'tis you who have put Don Phiiip up- on laying this pretended claim to his daughter, purely to defer the marriage, that in the mean time you might get an opportunity to run away with her ; for '^hich reason, sir, yo':'li find your evidence will but fly in your face, and hasten the match with your rivaL Phil. Ha ! There's reason in that. Oct. What would you have me do ? Trap. Don't appear at the trial, sir. Phil. By no means; rather wait a little in the street : be witiiin call, and leave the management to me. Oct. I won't stir from the door. Phil. You'll soon hear of me : away. iExit OCTAVIO. Trap. So, now I have divided the enemy, there can be no great danger if it should come to a battle Basta ! here comes our party. Phil. Staad aside, till I call for you. [rRAPPANTi retires. Enter Don Manuel. Man. Well, sir, what service have you to command me now, pray i Phil. Now, sir, I hope my credit will stand a little fairer with you : all I beg is but your patient hearing. 454 s&E wou'd and she wou'd not. [act IV. Man. Well, sir, you shall have it. Here he comes ; bring-him to trial as soon as you please. Enter FjuORA and Hypolita. Flora. So ! Trappanti has succeeded ; he's come without the officers. [To Hypolita. Hi/p. Hearing, sir, you were below, I did not care to disturb the family, by putting the officers to the trouble of a needless search: let me see your warrant; l*m ready to obey it. Man. Ay, where's your officer ? Flora. I thought to have seen him march in state, with an alguazil before him. Phil. I was afraid, sir, upon second thoughts, your business would not stay for a warrant, though 'tis pos- sible I may provide for you, for I think this gentle- man's a magistrate : in the mean time Oh ! nere, I have prevailed with an alguazil to wait upon ye. Enter Alguazil. Alg. Did you send for me, sir ? Phil. Ay, secure that gentleman. Man. Hold, hold, sir; all things in order; thl gentleman is yet my guest ; let me be first acquainted with his crime, and then I shall better know how he deserves to be treated ; and that we may have no hard words upon one another, if you please, sir, let me first talk with you in private. [ Thei/ ivhisper. Hyp. Undone ! that fool Trappanti, or that villain, I know not which, has at least mistaken or betrayed me ! Ruined past redemption ! Flora. Death ! what d'ye mean I that hanging look were enough to confirm a suspicion: bear up, for shame ! Hyp. Impossible ! I am dashed, confounded, if thou hast any courage left, show it quickly. Go, speak, before my fears betray me. [Aside, SCENE I.] SHE WOu'd AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 65^ Man. If you can make this appear by any witness^ sir, I confess, 'twill surprise me indeed. Flora. Ay, sir, if you have any witnesses, we desire you'd produce them. Phil. Sir, I have a witness at your service, and a substantial one. Hey ! Trappanti ! Enter Trappanti. Now, sir, what think ye ? Hyp. Ha! the rogue winks then there's life again. [Aside.] Is this your witness, sir ? Phil. Yes, sir ; this poor fellow at last, it seems, happens to be honest enough to confess himself a rogue, and your accomplice. Hyp. Ha 'ha! Phil. Ha ! ha ! you are very merry, sir. Man. Nay, there's a jest between ye, that's certaia But come, friend, what say you to the business ? have ye any proof to offer upon oath that this gentle- man is the true Don Philip, and consequently this other an impostor ? Phil. Speak boldly. Trap. Ay, sir ; but shall I come to no harm if I do speak ? Man. Let it be the truth, and I'll protect thee. Trap. Well, sir, since I must speak, then, in the first place, I desire your honour would be pleased to com- mand the officer to secure that gentleman. Man. How, friend ! PhiL Secure me, rascal ! Trap. Sir, if I can't be protected, I shall never be able to speak. Man. 1 warrant thee What is it you say, friend ? Trap. Sir, as I was just now crossing the street, this gentleman, with a sneer in his face, takes me by the hand, claps five pistoles in my palm (hero they are,) shuts my fist close upon them : My dear friend, says r 2 66 SHE wou'd and she wou'd not. f act iv. he, you must do me a piece of service ; upon which, sir, I bows me to the ground, and desired him to open his case. Phil. What means the rascal ? Man. Sir, I am as much amazed as you ; but pray let's hear him, that we may know his meaning. Trap. So, sir, upon this he runs me over a long story of a sham and a flam he had just contrived, he said, to defer my master's marriage only for two days, Phil. Confusion ! Flora. Nay, pray, sir, let's hear the evidence. Trap. Upon the close of the matter, sir, I found at last, by his eloquence, that the whole business de- pended upon my bearing a little false witness against my master. Hyp. Oh, ho ! Trap. Upon this, sir, I began to demur : Sir, says I, this business will never hold water ; don't let me undertake it ; I must beg your pardon ; gave him the negative shrug, and was for sneaking off with the fees in ray pocket. Man. Very well ! Phil. Villain ! Flora and Hyp. Ha ! ha ! lia I Trap. Upon this, sir, he catches me fast hold by the collar, whips out his poker, claps it within half an inch of my guts ; now, dog ! says he, you shall do it, or within two hours stink upon the dunghill you came from. Phil. Sir, if there be any faith in mortal man Man. Nay, nay, nay, one at a time ; you shall be heard presently. Go on, friend. Trap. Having me at this advantage, sir, I began to think my wit would do me more service than my cou- rage, so prudently pretended, out of fear, to comply with his threats, and swallow the perjury ; but now, sir, being under protection, and at liberty of consei- SCENE I.] SHE WOU*B AND SHE WOU*D NOT. fl? ence, I have honesty enough, you see, to tell you the whole truth of the matter. JkTan. Ay, this is evidence indeed! Omnes. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Phil. Dog ! villain ! did not you confess to me that this gentleman picked you up not three hours ago at the same inn where I alighted ? that he had owned his stealing my portmanteau at Toledo ? that if he succeeded to marry the lady, you were to have a con- siderable sum for your pains, and these two were to share the rest of her fortune between them ? Trap. O lud ! O lud ! Sir, as I hope to die in my bed, these are the very words he threatened to stab me if I would not swear against my master 1 told him at first, sir, I was not fit for his business ; I was never good at a lie in my life. Alg. Nay, sir, I saw this gentleman's sword at hi breast out of my window. Trap. Look ye there, sir 1 Phil. Damnation ! Omnes. Ha! ha! ha! Man. Really, my friend, thou art almost turned fool in this business : if thou hadst prevailed upon this wretch to perjure himself, couldst thou think I should not have detected him ? You may go, friend. lEjcit Alguazil. Flora. Ha! ha! Phil. Sir, you are imposed upon. Defer your mar- riage but an hour. Perdition seize me, if I have any hope or thought but that of serving you. Man. Nay, now thou art a downright distracted man Dost thou expect I should take thy bare word, when here were two honest fellows that have just proved thee in a lie to thy face i Enter Sancho. San. Sir, the priest is come. [Exit. Man* Is he so r then, sir, if you please, since you 68 SHE wou'd and she wou'o not. [act iv. see you can do me no farther service, I believe it may be time for you to go. Come, son, now let's wait upon the bride, and put an end to this gentleman's trouble altogether. ^Exit Don Mahubl. Ht/p. Sir, I'll wait on je. Phil. Confusion ! I've undone my friend. [ Walks abotif. Flora. [Aside.] Trappanti ! rogue, this was a mas- ter-piece ! Trap. [^ Aside.] Sir, I believe it won't be mended in haste. [Exeunt Flora and Trappanti. Hvp. Sir! Phil. Ha ! alone ! If I were not prevented now- Well, sir ! Hyp. I suppose, you don't think the favours you have designed me, are to be put up without satisfac- tion ? therefore, I shall expect to see you early to- morrow near the Prado, with your sword in your hand : in the mean time, sir, I'm a little more in haste to be the lady's humble servant, than yours. [^Going, Phil. Hold, sir ! -you and I can't part upon such easy terms. Hyp- Sir! Phil. You are not so near the lady, sir, perhaps, as you imagine. [Don Philip locks the door. Hyp vVhat d'ye mean i Phil, Speak softly. Hi^. Ha! Phil- Come, sir, draw my time's but short. Hi/p. And mine's too precious to be lost on any thing but love : besides, this is no proper place- To morrow, sir, I shall find a better. Phil Drat^', villain ; or expect such usage as I'm sure Don Philip would not bear. H^p. A lover, sir, may bear any thing, to make sure of his mistress. You know it is not fear that Phil. No evasions; sir ; either this moment con- SCENE I.] SHE VrOV*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 69 fess your viJlainy, your name, and fortune, or expect no mercy. H^. Nay, then within tliere ! Phil. Move but a step, or dare to raise thy voice beyond a whisper, this minute is thy last. [Seizes her, and holds his svoord to her breast* Hyp. Sir! [^Trembling, Phil. Villain ! be quick, confess, or Hyp. Hold, sir I own 1 dare not figlit with you. Phil, No, I see thou art too poor a villain ! therefore, be speedy, as thou hop'st I'll spare thy life. Hyp. Nay, then, sir mercy ! mercy ! [ Throws herself at hisjeet.'] And, since I must confess, have pity on my youth, have pity on my love! Phil. Thy love ! what art thou, speak ? Hyp. Unless your generous compassion spares me, sure the most wretched youth that ever felt the pangs and torments of a successless passion ! Phil. Nay, then, I must forgive thee. [Raising her.] For I have known too well the misery, not to pity any thing in love Yet, hold nor flatter thy fond hopes too far ; you must defer your marriage with this lady. Hyp. Sir, on my knees Phil. Expect no more from me ; either comply this moment, or my sword shall force thee. Hyp. Consider, sir Phil. Nay, then, discover quick tell me thy name and family. Hyp. Hold, sir ! I^hil. Speak, or thou diest. [A noise at the door. Hyp. Sir, I will Ha ! they are entering O ! for a moment's courage ! Come on, sir ! [She breaksj'iom him., and draxvSy retiring, till Don Manuel, Floua, and Trappanti, toith Servants, rush in, and part thon. Man. Knock him down ! Force him out of the 70 SHE WOU'd AKD she W0U*D not. [act IV. room there ; call an officer; in the mean time secure him in the cellar. Phil. Hear me but one word, sir. Man. Stop his mouth Out with him. \_They hurry him off".] Come, dear son, be pacified. JiyP' A villain ! [fValking in a heat. Flora, Why should he be concerned, now he's se- cure ? such a rascal would but contaminate the sword of a man of honour. Hyp. I am sorry, sir, such a fellow should have it in his power to disturb me But Enter Rosara. Man. Look ; here's my daughter in a fright to see for you. Hyp. Then Pm composed again [Runs to Rosara. Ros, I heard fighting here ; I hope you are not wounded, sir ? Hyp. I have no wound but what the priest can heal. Man, Ay ! well said, my little champion ! [Exit, Hyp. Oh, madam, I have such a terrible escape to tell you. Ros. Truly, I began to be afraid I should lose my little husband. Hyp. Husband, quotha ! Get me but once safe out of these breeches, if ever I wear them again [Exeunt, ACT v.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 71 ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Don Manuel's House* Enter Trappanti. Trap. What in the name of roguery can this new master of mine be^ he's either a fool, or bewitched, that's positive. First, he gives me fifty pieces for helping him to marry the lady ; and, as soon as the wedding Is over, claps me twenty more into the other hand, to help him to get rid of her Nay, not only that, but gives me a strict charge to observe his di- rections, in being evidence againet him as an impos- tor, te refund all the lies I have told in his service, to sweep him clear out of my conscience, and now to swear the robbery against him. What the bottom of this can be, I must confess, does a little puzzle my wit. There's but one way in the world 1 can solve it he must certainly have some reason to hang him- self, that he's ashamed to own ; and so was resolved first to be married, that his friends might not wonder at the occasion. But here he comes with his noose in his hand. Enter Hypolita and Rosara. Hyp. Trappanti, go to Don Pedro ; he has busi- ness with you. Trap. Yes, sir. [Exit TilAPPANTl. Kos. Who's Don Pedro, pray ? 72 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOu'd NOT. [acT V. Hyp. Flora, madam ; he knows her yet by no other name.-^Where*s your father, madam ? Ros. I saw him go towards his closet ; I believe he's gone to fetch you part of my fortune Here he comes. Enter Don Manuel. Mart' Ah, my little conqueror ! let me embrace thee ! That Louis. You might as well ask me if I had not for- got you, sir. Man. But one question more, and I am dumb for ever it that he ? SCENE I.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU'D NOT. 7S Louis. That, sir ! no, nor in the least like him. Man. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! my poor child ! Bos. Oh ! [Seems to faint, Man. Ah ! look to my child. Louis. Is this the villain, then, that has imposed on you ? Hyp. Sir, Pm this lady's husband, and while Pm sure that name can't be taken from me, I shall be contented with laughing at any other you or your party dare give me. Man. Oh! Louis. Nay then, within there! such a villain ought to be made an example. Enter Corrigidore and txvo Alguazils, ivith Don Philip, Octayio, Flora, Trappanti, a7id Vi- LETTA. Oh, gentlemen, we're undone ! all comes too late ! my poor cousin's married to the impostor ! Phil. How! Oct. Confusion! Man. Oh, oh ! Phil. That's the person, sir, and I demand your justice. Oct. And I. Flora. And all of us. Man. Will my cares never be over ? r Cor. Well', gentlemen, let me rightly understand what 'tis you charge him with, and Pll commit him immediately First, sir, you say these gentlemen all know you to be the true Don Philip i Louis. That, sir, I presume, my oath will prove. Oct. Or mine. Flora. And mine. Trap. Ay, and mine too, sir. Man. Where shall I hide this shameful head ? Flora. And for the robbery, that I can prove upon him ; he confessed to me at Toledo, he stole this gen- so 8HE WOU*D AND SHE WOu'd NOT. [ACT V. tieman's portmanteau there, to carry on his design upon this lady, and agreed to give me a third part of her fortune, for my assistance, which he refusing to pay as soon as the marriage was over, I thought ray- selif obliged, in honour, to discover him. Hy^. Well, gentlemen, you may insult me if you please ; but I presume you'll hardly be able to prove that Pm not married to the lady, or have not the best fart of her fortune in my pocket ; so do your worst ; own my ingenuity, and am proud on't. Man. Ingenuity, abandoned villain ! But, sir, be- fore you send him to gaol, I desire he may return the jewels I gave him, as part of ray daughter's portion. Cor, That can't be, sir ; since he has married the lady, her fortune's lawfully his. All we can do, is to prosecute him for robbing this gentleman. Man. Oh that ever I was born ! Hyp. Return the jewels, sir ! If you don't pay me the rest of her fortune to-morrow morning, you may chance to go to gaol before me. Man, Oh that I were buried ! will my cares never be over ? Hyp. They are pretty near it, sir ; you can't have much more to trouble you. Cor. Come, sir, if you please, I must desire to take your deposition in writing. \_Goes to the table toith Flora. Phil. Now, sir, you see what your own rashness has brought you to ! Man, Pray frbear, sir. Hyp. Keep it up, madam. [Aside to Rosara. Ros. Oh, sir, how wretched have you made me ! Is this the care you have taken of me for my blind obedience to your commands ? this my reward for filial duty ? Man, Ah, my poor child ! Ros. But I deserve it all, for ever listening to your barbarous proposal, when my conscience might have SCEN2 I.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. 81 told me my vows and person, in justice and honour, were the wronged Octavio's. 3Ian. Oh, oh } Oct' Can she repent her falsehood then at last ? Is't possible ? then I am wounded too ! Oh, my poor, undone, Rosara ! [^Goes to her.'} Ungrateful! cruel! perjured man ! Man. Oh, don't insult me ! I deserve the worst you can say I'm a miserable wretch, and I repent me. Vil. So! here's the lady in tears, the lover in rage, the old" gentleman out of his senses, most of the com- pany distracted, and the bridegroom in a fair way to be hanged the merriest wedding that ever I saw in my life ! Co?'. Well, sir, have you any thing to say before I make your warrant ? [To Hipolita. i/yp. A word or two, and I obey ye, sir. Gentle- men, I have reflected on the folly of ray action, and foresee the disquiets I am like to undergo in being this lady's husband ; therefore, as I own myself the author of all this seeming ruin and confusion, so I am willing (desiring first the officers may withdraw) to offer something to the general quiet. Oct. What can this mean ? Phil. Psha ! some new contrivance Let's begone. Louis. Stay a moment ; it can be no harm to hear liim Sir, will you oblige us ? Cor. Wait without. {^Exeunt Alguazils. Vil. What's to be done now, trow ? Trap. Some smart tln'ng, I warrant ye : the little gentleman has a notable head, 'faith I Flora. Nay, gentlemen, thus much I know of him, that, if you' can but persuade him to be honest, 'tis still in his power to make you all amends, and, in my opinion, 'tis high ^imt he should propose it. Alan. Ay, 'tis time he were hanged, indeed, for I know no other amends he can make us. Tfj/P' Then 1 must tell you, sir, 1 owe you no re- 82 SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. [[aCT V. paration ; the injuries which you complain of, your sordid avarice and breach of promise here, have just- ly brought upon you. Tlierefore, sfr, if you are in- jured, you may thank yourself for it. Man. Nay, dear sir, I do confess my blindness. Hi/p. Well, sir, however little you have deserved it, yet, for your daughter's sake, if you'll oblige your- self by signing this paper, to keep your first promise, and give her with her full fortune to this gentleman, I'm still content, on that condition, to disannul my own pretences, and resign her. Man. Sir, I don't know how to answer you ; for I can never believe you'll have good nature enough to hang yourself out of the way, to ra:^ke room for him. Hyp. Then, sir, to let you see I have not only an honest meaning, but an immediate power to make good my word, I first renounce all title to her for- tune ; these jewel?, which I received from you, I give him free possession of; and now, sir, the rest of her fortune you owe hfra with her person. Man. This is unaccountable, I must confess But still, sir, if you disannul your pretences, how you'll persuade that gentleman to part with his Phil. That, sir, shall be no let ; I am too well ac- quainted with the virtue of my friend's title, to en* tertain a thought that can disturb it. Hi/p. Now, sir, it only stops at you. Man. Well, sir, I ee the paper is only condition- al, and since the general welfare is concerned, I won't Tefuse to lend you my helping hand to it ; but if you should not make your words good, sir, I hope you won't take it ill if a man should poison you ? Phil. And, sir, let me too warn you hoW you exe- cute this promise ; your flattery and dissembled pe- nitence has deceived me once already, which makes me, I confess, a little slow in my belief; therefore, take heed, expect no second mercy ; for, be assure^^ of this, I never can forgive a villain, SCENE I.] SHE WOD'o AND ^HE WOU'D NOT. 83 Hyp. If I am proved one, spare me not I ask but this Use me as you find me. Phil. Tliat you may depend on. Man. There, sh*. {^Gives HypoLiTA the torifing signed. Ros. Now I tremble for her. [Aside. Hyp. And now, Don Philip, I confess you are the only injured person here. Phil. I know not that do my friend right, and I shall easily forgive thee. Hyp. H?^ pardon, with his thanks, I am sure I shall deserve; but how shall I forgive myself ? Is therein nature left a means that can repair the shameful slights, the insults, and the long disquiets you have known from love ? Phil. Let me understand thee. Hyp. Examine well your heart ; and if the fierce resentment of its wrongs has not extinguished quite the usual soft compassion there, revive at least one spark, in pity of my woman's weakness. Phil. Whither wouldst thou carry me? Hyp, The extravagant attempt I have this day run through, to meet you thus, justly may subject me to your contempt and scorn ; unless the same forgiving goodness, that used to overlook the failings of Hypo- lita, prove still my friend, and soften all with the ex^ cuse of love. \^All seem amazed. Phil. Speak on, and awake me to the joy, while I have sense to hear you ! Hyp. Oh, Philip ! Hypolita is ^yours for ever ! [They advance slowly, and at last rush into one, another's arms. Phil. Hypolita ! I know her by the busy pulses at my heart, which only love like mine can feel, and she alone can give. [Eagerly embracing her. Man. What the devil, have I then been pleased, and plagued, and frighted out of my wits by a woman all this while ? Odsbud ! she is a notable contriver ! Stand 84) SHE wou'd and she wou*d not. [act . clear, ho ! for if I have not a fair brush at her lips, . nay, if she does not give me the hearty smack too, odswinds and thunder ! she is not the good-humour- ed girl I took her for. iiijp. Come, sir, I won't baulk your good humour. {He kisses her.] And now I have a favour to beg of you : you remember your promise ; only your bless- ing here, sir. [Octavio and Rosara kneel. Man. Ah, I can deny thee nothing ; and since I find thou art not fit ibr my girl's business thyself, Od- zooks ! it shall never be done out of the family and so, children, Heaven bless you together ! And now my cares are over again. Oct. We'll study to deserve your love, sir. Phil. My friend successful too ! then my joys are double ! But how this generous attempt was started first how it has been pursued, and carried with this kind surprise at last, gives me wonder equal to ray Hi/p. Here is one, that at more leisure shall inform you all : she was ever a friend to your love, has had a hearty share in the fatigue, and now I am bound in honour to give her part of the garland too. Phil. How! she! Flora. Trusty Flora, sir, at your service. I have had many a battle with ray lady, upon your account; but I always told her we should do her business at last. Man. Another metamorphosis ! Brave girls, 'faith ! 'Odzooks ! we shall have them make campaigns shortly ! Phil. In Seville I'll provide for thee. Hyp. Nay, here's another accomplice too, confe- derate I can't say, for honest Trappanti did not know- but that I was as great a rogue as himself. Trap. It's a foily to lie ; I did not indeed, madam But the world cannot say I have been a rogue to 5 SCENE I.] SHE WOU*D AND SHE WOU*D NOT. tS your ladyship and if you had not parted with your* money Hyp. Thou hadst not parted with thy honesty? Trap. Right, madam ; but how should a poor na- ked fellow resist when he had so many pistoles held against him. [Shows money, Man. Ay, ay, well said, lad, Til. La ! a tempting bait indeed ! Let him offer to marry me again, if he dares! \_ Aside. Phil. Well, Trappanti, thou hast been serviceable however, and I'll think of thee. Oct. Nay, I am his debtor too. Trap. Ah, there's a very easy way, gentlemen, to reward me ; and since you partly owe your happiness to my roguery, I should be very proud to owe mine only to your generosity. Oct. As how, pray ? Trap. Why, sir, I find by my constitution that It is as natural to be in love as an hungry, and that I han*t a jot less stomach than the best of my betters; and though I have often thought a wife but dining every day upon the same dish, yet methinks it's bet- ter than no dinner at all : and, for my part, I had ra- ther have no stomach to my meat, than no meat to my stomach : upon which consideration, gentlemett and ladies, I desire you'll use your interest with Ma- dona here to let me dine at her ordinary. Man. A pleasant rogue, 'faith ! Ocizooks ! the jade shall have him. Come, hussy, he's an ingenious per- son. Vil. Sir, I don't understand his stuff; when he speaks plain, I know what to say to him. Trap. Why then, in plain terms, let me a lease of your tenement marry me. Vil. Ay, now you say something 1 was afraid, by what you said in the garden, you had only a mind to be a wicked tenant at will. 6 SMB wou'd and she wou*i> not. [act v. Trap. No, no, child, I have no mind ,to be turned out at a quarter's warning. Vil. Well, there's my hand and now meet me as soon as you will with a canonical lawyer, and I'll give you possession of the rest of the premises. Man. 'Odzooks ! and well thought of; I'll send for one presently. Here, you sirrah, run to Father Be- nedict again, tell him his work don't hold here, his last marriage is dropped to pieces, but now we have got better tackle, he must come and stitch two or three fresh couple together, as fast as he can. Now all my cares are over. Phil. Now, my Hypolita, Let our example teach mankind to love. From thine the fair their favours may improve ; To the quick pains you give, our joys we owe. Till those we feel, these we can never know. But warn'd with honest hope from my success, Ev'n in the height of all its miseries. Oh, never let a virtuous mind despair. For constant hearts are love's peculiar care. \JE,xeunt omnes* THE END. r*^ ffl f H^VttilM ' THE COUNTRY GIRL; A COMEDY, IN FIVE acts; AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE. ALTERED FEOM WYCHERLY's COUNTRY WIFE, By DAVID GARRICK, Esq. ^BXNTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK. WITH REMARKS BY MRS INCHBALD. LONDON : PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORMB^ AND BBOWN| PATERNOSTER-RDW. I'.DIMStJRGH: Printed by James BaraDfj-ne & Co. REMARKS. The author of this comedy possessed a mind which delighted every man, and a person which charmed every woman. Wycherly lived in the cheerful days of Charles the Second ; was the companion of the wits of that pe- riod, caressed by his sovereign, and, it is said, beloved by his sovereign's mistress, the beautiful Duchess of Cleveland. As a wife has too often the power to make her husband conceive a friendship for the very man who is the means of his disgrace, such surely may be the power of a mistress ; and the singular partiality which his majesty shewed for the author of this play, might possibly be derived from the same artful source which supplies treachery to the marriage state- though, in the present case, followed by less fatal consequences. In the course of a dangerous illness, vrhich for some time threatened Wycherly's life, the king even condescended to visit him at his lodgings in Bow- street, and was graciously pleased to present him with a large sum of money, in order to travel to the south of France for the recovery of his health. On his re- turn to England, the monarch conferred on him a still higher degree of honour than he had yet done, by entrusting to his care the tuition of a favourite 4 BBJfARKSr. son, and allowing him a pension of fifteen hundred a year for his guardianship. The present comedy was greatly admired by the court, and warmly received by the town ; which will give the reader no surpiise, as its fable, incidents, and dialogue, are all perfectly dramatic, and worthy of high admiration. ^Yet to one who has seen this play acted of late years, it must appear wonderful how it could ever be performed successfully without Mr Jordan. Mrs Jordan made her first appearance on the Lon- don stage in the character of Peggy. She came with no report in her favour to elevate her above a very moderate salary; or to attract more than a very mo-. derate house when she appeared. But here modera- tion stopped. She at once displayed such consum- mate art, with such bewitching nature such excel- lent sense, with such innocent simplicity, that her auditors were boundless in their plaudits, and so warm in her praises when they left the theatre, that their ; friends at home would not give credit to the extent of their eulogiuras. It is unnecessaryto tell the present generation, that not a syllable that was spoken in Mrs Jordan's com- mendation in this character was extravagant. Amongst the external gifts which inspire endear- ing sensations from one human being to another, the most fascinating is, perhaps, a melodious voice not the vocal music of singing, but of speaking. Mrs Jordan has this gift beyond any woman who speaks in public. As a proof, her pronunciation is imperfect ; for most of her words are uttered with REMARKS. A a kind of provincial dialect ; yet her tones are en- chanting as the softest harmony " a concord of sweet sounds.'' " The Country Girl" was originally called " The Country Wife;" and received its new title from Mr Garrick, who revived the comedy, when he was ma- nager of Drury Lane, and expunged those parts of it, which probably were thought the most entertaining in the age when it was written, but which an im- proved taste delicately rejects. The comedy, in its present state, boasts the witty dialogue of former times, blended with the purity and happy incidents of modern dramas. As the catastrophe of all comedies is marriage, mar- riage was likewise the catastrophe of poor VVycherly's own comic scenes; for he married, and the rest of his life was a deep tragedy. He married the Countess of Drogheda, who was young, rich, and beautiful; but who had not domestic virtues to reward him for the loss of his sovereign's favour, which immediately fol- lowed their union. It is said, the king resented the author's not having solicited his consent to the nup- tials; but other causes were more likely to have ef- fected his disgrace at court. The slighted Cleveland might be his enemy ; or, as Charles the Second was a social spirit, perhaps, like Sparkish in this play, he " Could uot love a woman, whom other men did not love." And his majesty might require Wycher- ly's passion for the Duchess to incite his own ; as com- panions, by seeing others drink, are merrily led to the joys of intoxication. 2 DRAMATIS PERSONS. Moody Mr WroughtoH, Harcourt 3Ir Banymore. Sparkish Mr Russet. Belville Mr Holland, WlLLFAM Mr Maddocks. Countryman Mr Purser, Miss Peggy Mrs Jordan. Alithea Miss Mellon. Lucy Mrs Scott. SCENE^London. THE COUNTRY GIRL. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Harcourt's Lodgings. Harcourt and Belville discovered sitting. Hare. Ha, ha, ha I and so you are in love, nephevej, not reasonably and gaUantly, as a young gentleman ought, but sighingly, miserably so not content to be ankle deep, you have soused over head and ears ha, Dick? Belv. I am pretty much in that condition, indeed, uncle. [Sighs, Hare. Nay, never blush at it when I was of your age 1 was asliamed too but three years at college, and half a one at Paris, methinks should have cured you of that unfashionable weaknessmodesty. Belv. Could I have released myseli from that, I had, perhaps, been at this instant happy in the pos- session of what I must despair now ever to obtain- Heigho ! Hare. Ha, ha, ha ! very foolish indeed. Belv. Don't laugh at me, uncle; 1 am foolish, I kuQw; but, like other fools, I deserve to be pitied. 8 THE COUNTRY GIRL. [aCT I. Hare. Pr'ythee don't talk of pity; how can I help you? for this Country Girl of yours is certainly married. , Bdv. No, no I vron't believe it; she is not mar- ried, nor she sha'n't, if I can help it. Hare. Well said, modesty. With such a spirit, you can help yourself, Dick, without my assistance. Belv. But you must encourage, and advise me too, or I shall never make any thing of it. Hare. Provided the girl is not married ; for I never, never encourage young men to covet their neighbour' s wives. Belv. My heart assures me, that she is not mar- ried. Hare. O, to be sure, your heart is much to be re- lied upon but, to convince you that I have a fellow- feeling of your distress, and that I am as nearly allied to vou in misfortunes as in relationship, you must know Bdv. What, uncle ? you alarm me Hare. That I am in love too. Belv. Indeed ! Hare. Miserably in love. Belv. That's charming. Hare. And my mistress is just going to be married to another. Belv. Better and better. Hare. I knew ray fellow-sufFerings would please you ; but now prepare for the wonderful wonder of wonders ! Belv. Well! Hare. My mistress is in the same house with yours. Belv. What, are you in love with Pegiiv too ? [Rising from his Chair. Hare. Well said, jealousy. No, no, sei y>'ur heart at rest. Your Peggy is too young and ton simple for me. I must have one a little more kiiowin-, a little better bred, just old enough to see the diliisreuce be- SCENE 1.3 THE COUNTRY CIRL, 9 tween me and a coxcomb, spirit enough to break from a brother's engagements, and chase for herself. Belv. You don't mean Ahthea, who is to be mar- ried to Mr Sparkish ! Hare. Can't 1 be in love with a lady that is going to be married to another as well as you, sir ? Belv. B'lt S|>rkish is your friend ! Hare. Pry 'thee don't call him my friend ; he can be nobody's friend, not even his own - - He would thrust himself into my acquaintance, would introduce me to his mistress, though I have told him again and agaia that 1 was in love with her, which, instead of ridding me of him, has made him only ten times more trouble- some and me really in love-^He should suffer for his self-sufficiency. Belv. 'Tis a conceited puppy !~And what success with the lady ? Hare. No great hopes and yet, if I could defer the marriage a few days, I should not despair; her honour, I am confident, is her only attachment to my rival she can't like Sparkish, and if I can work upon his credulity, a credulity which even popery would be ashamed of, I may yet have the chance of throwing sixes upon the dice to save me. Belv. Nothing can save me. Hare. No, not if you whine and sigh, when you should be exerting every thing that is man about you. I have sent Sparkish, who is admitted at all hours in the house, to know how the land lies for you, and if she is not marritd already. Belv How cruel you are you raise me up with one hand, and then knock me down with the other ! Hare. Well, well, she sha'n't be married [Knoeking at the Door.^ This is Sparkish, I suppose : don't drop the h;ast hint of your passion to him ; if you do, vou may as well advertise it in the public papers, Belv, I'll be careful. ^JJi THB COUNTRY OIRL. [aCT I. Enter William. Will. An odd sort of a person, from the country I Relieve, who calls himself Moody, wants to see you, sir; but as I did not know him, i said you were not at home, but would return directly ; *' And so will I too," said he, very short and surly ; and away he went, mumbling to himself Harc.Yery well. Will I'll see him when he comes. ^Exit William.] Moody call to see me 1 He has something more in his head than making me a visit *tis to complain of you, I suppose. Belv. How can he know me ? Hare, We must suppose the worst, and be prepared for him. ^Tell me ail you know of this ward of his, this Peggy Peggy what's her name ? Belv. Thrift, Thrift, uncle. Hare. Ay, ay. Sir Thomas Thrift's daughter, of Hampshire, and le(t very young under the guardian- ship of my old acquaintance and companion. Jack Moody. Belv. Your companion ! he's old enough to be your father. Hare. Thank you, nephew ; he has greatly the ad- vantage of me in years, as well as wisdom. When I firsC launched from the university into this ocean of London, he was the greatest rake in it; 1 knew him well for near two years, but ail of a sudden he took a freak (a very prudent one) of retiring wholly into the country. Belv. There he gained such an ascendency over the odd disposition of his neighbour. Sir Thomas, that he left him sole guardian to his daughter, who forfeits half her fortune if she does not marry with his con- sent there's the devil, uncle. Hare. And are you so young, so foolish, and 46 much in love, that you would take her with half her '^alue ? ha, nephew ? SCENE I."] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 1 1 Belv. I'll take her with any thing with nothing. Hare. What ! such an unaccomplished, awkward, silly creature ; he has scarce taught her to write ; she has seen nobody to converse with, but the country people about them ; so she can do nothing but dangle her arms, look gawky, turn her toes in, and talk broad Hampshire. Beh. Don't abuse her sweet simplicity had you but heard her talk, as I have done, from the garden wall in the country, by moonlight Hare. Romeo and Juliet, I protest, ha, ha, ha T " Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious" ha, ha, ha! How often have you seen this fair Capulet i Belv. I saw her three times in the country, and spoke to her twice; I have leapt an orchard wall, like Romeo, to come at her, played the balcony scene from an old summer house in the garden ; and, if I lose her, I will find out an apothecary, and play the tomb scene too. Hare. Well said, Dick I this spirit must produce something. But has the old dragon ever caught you sighing at her ? Belv. Never in the country ; he saw me yesterday kissing my hand to her from the new tavern window, that looks upon the back of his house, and immedi- ately drove her from it, and fastened up the window- shutters. Spark. [Without,] Very well. Will, I'll go up to them. Hare. I hear Sparkish coming up take care of what 1 told you not a word of Peggy ; hear his intelligence, and make use of it, without seeming to mind it. Belv. Mum, mum, uncle. Entei' Sparkish. Spark. O, my dear Harcourt, I shall die with laughing I have such news for thee ha,ha, ha! Wiiat, your nephew too, and a little dumpish, or so 12 THE COUNTRY GIRL. ' [act I, you have been giving him a lecture upon economy I suppose you, who never had any, can best de'- scribe the evils that arise from the want of it I ne- ver mind my own affairs, not I " The gods take care of Cato." I hear, Mr Belrille, you have got a pretty snug house, with a bow window that looks into the Park, amd a back door that goes out into it. ^Very convenient, and well imagined no young handsome fellow should be without one you may be always ready there, like a spider in his web, to seize upon strayed women of quality. Hare, As you used to do you vain fellow you; pr'ythee don't teach my nephew your abandoned tricks he is a modest young man, and you must not spoil him. Spark, May be so ; -but his modesty has done some mischief at our house my surly, jealous bro- ther-in-law saw that modest young gentleman casting a wishful eye at his forbidden fruit, from the new ta- vern window. Belv. You mistake the person, Mr Sparkigh I don't know what young lady you mean. Hare. Explain yourself, Sparkish, you must mis- take Dick has never seen the girl. Spark. I don't say he has ; I only tell you what Moody says. Besides he went to the tavern himself, and inquired of the waiter who dined in the back room. No. 4, and they told him it was Mr Belville, your nephew; that's all I know of the matter, or de- sire to know of it, 'faith. Hare. He kissed his hand, indeed, to your lady, Alithea, and is more in love with her than you are, and very near as much as I am ; so look about you, such a youth may be dangerous. Spark. The more danger the more honour: I defy you both ; win her and wear her if you can Dolus an virtus ^n love as well as in war though you must be expeditious, 'faith; for I believe, if I don't change fCENE 1.3 THE COUNTRY GIRL. IS my mind, I shall marry her to-morrow, or the day after. Have you no honest clergyman, Harcourt, no fellow collegian to recommend to me to do the business ? Hare Nothing ever, sure, was so lucky. {^Aside.^ Why, faith, I liave, Sparkish; my brother, a twin brother, '*^ed Harcourt, will be in town to-day, and proud to attend your commands. 1 am a very gene- rous I ival, you see, to lend you my brother to marry the woman I love ! Spark. And so am I too, to let your brother come so near us~but Ned shall be the man; poor Alithea grows impatient I can't put oft" the evil day any- longer 1 fancy the brute, her brother, has a mind to marry his country idiot at the same time. Bel. How, country idiot, sir! Hare Taisez vous, bete. [Aside to Belville.] I thought she had been married already. Spark. No, no, he's not married, that's the joke of It. Belv. No, no, he is not married. Hare, Hold your tongue [Elbcnving Belville. Spark. Not he 1 have the finest storj' to tell you by the bye, he intends calling upon you, tor he ask'd me where you lived, to couiplajn of modesty there. He picked up an old raking acquaintance of his, as we came along together, Will Frankly, who saw him with his girl, sculking and muffled up, at the play last night: he plagued him much about matri- muny, and his being ashamed to show himself: swore he uas in love with his wife, and intended to cuckold him. " Do your" cried Moody, folding his arms, and scowling with his eyes thus " You must have more wit thai! % ou used to have Besides, if you have as mucn as you think you have, I shall be out of your reach, and this profligate metropolis, in less than a week." Moody would fain have got rid of him, but the other held him by tlie sleeve, so I lelt them; ^:i , THB COUNTRY GIRL, [aCT I. rejoiced most luxuriously to see the poor devil tor- mented. Belv. I thought you said, just now, that be was not married : Is not that a contradiction, sir ? [Harcourt still makes signs to Belville. Spark. Why, it is a kuid ot one but, considering your modesty, and your ignorance of the young lady, you are pretty tolerably inquisitive, methinks, ha, Harcourt! ha, ha, ha! Hare. Pooh, pooh I don't talk to that boy, tell me all you know. Sparkj. You must know, my booby of a brother- in-law bith/ brought up this ward of his (a good for- tune let me tell you) as he coops up and fattens his chickens, for his own eating : he is plaguy jealous of her, and was very sorry that he could not marry her in the country, without coming up to town; which he could not do, on account of some writings or other; so what does my gentleman ? he persuades the poor silly girl, by breaking a sixpence, or some non- sense or another, that they are to aii intents married in Heaven; but that the laws require the signing of art.cles, and the church service, to complete their union so he has made her call him husband, and Bud, which she constantly does, and he calls her wife, and gives out she is married, that she may not look after younger fellows, nor younger fellows alter her, egad; ha, ha, ha! and all won't do. Bel. Thank you, sir. What heavenly news, uncle ! [_ Aside, Hare. What an idiot you are, nephew! And so then you make but one trouble of it; and are both to be tacked together the same day ? Spark. No, no, he can't be married this week ; he damns the lawyers for keeping him in town; be- sides, I am out of favour; and he is continually snarling at me, and abusing me, for not being jca- 12 tCENE I.] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 15 lous. {_Knocking at the door.'] There he is I must not be seen with you, for he'll suspect something; Til go with your nephew to his house, and we'll wait for you, and make :i visit to my wife that is to be, and, perhaps, we shall show young modesty here a sight of Peggy too. Enter William. Will. Sir, here's the strange, odd sort of a gentle- man come again, and I have shown him into the fore parlour. ^Spaik. That must be Moody ! Well said. Will ; an odd sort of a strange gentleman indeed j^ we'll step into the next room till he comes into this, and then you may have him all to yourself much good may it , he's a charming, sweet but hush, hush, 1 hear my husband I Lucy. Don't call him husband. Go into the Park this evening if you can. Peg, Mum, mum Enter Moody. Moody. Come, what's here to do ? You are putting the town pleasures into her head, and setting her a- loniiin*;. 23 THE COUNTRV GIRL. [aCT II. lAicxf. Yes, after nine-pins : you siifFer none to give her those longings you mean, but yourself. Moody. Come, Mrs Flippant, good precepts are lost, when bad examples are still before us : the liberty your mistress takes abroad, makes her hanker after it, and out of humour at home : poor wretch 1 she desi- red not to come to London ; I would bring her. Lucy. O yes, you surfeit her with pleasures. Moody. She has been this fortnight in town, and never desired, till this afternoon, to go abroad. Lucy. Was she not at the play yesterday ? Moody. Yes, but she never asked me. I was my- self the cause of her going. Lucy. Then if she ask you again, you are the cause of her asking, and not my mistress. Moody. Well, next week I shall be rid of you all, rid of this town, and my dreadful apprehensions. Come, be not melancholy, for thou shalt go into the country very soon, dearest. Peg. Pish ! what d'ye tell me of the country for ? Moody. How's this ! what, flout at the country ! Peg'. Let me alone, I am not well. Moody. O, if that be all w hat ails my dearest ? Peg, Truly, I don't know ; but I have not been well since you told toe there was a gallant at the play in love with me. Moody. Ha ! Luy. That's my mistress too. Moody. Nay, if you are not well, but are so con- cerned because a raking fellow chanced to lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick too. Peg. Of what sickness ? Moody. O, of that which is worse than the plague, jealousy. Peg. Pish, you jeer : I'm sure there's no such dis- ease in your receipt book at home. Moody. No, thou never met'st w ith it, poor *inno- GfiUt. SCBNB n. THE COUNTRY GIRL. 3S Peg. Well ; but pray. Bud, let's go to the play to- night. Moodj/. No, no ; no more plays. But why are you so eager to see a play ? Peg. 'Faitb, dear, not that I care one pin for their talk there ; but 1 like to look upon the player-men, and would see. if I could, the gallant you say loves me : that's all, dear Bud. Moodjf. Is that all, dear Bud ? Lucj/. This proceeds from my mistress's example. Peg. Lets go abroad, however, dear Bud, if we don*t go to the play. Moody. Come, have a little patience, and thou shjilt go into the country next week. Peg. Therefore I would see fust some sights, to tell my neighbours of : nay, 1 will go abroad, that's once. Moody. What, you have put this into her head ? Lucy. Heaven defend me, what suspicious ! some- body has put more things into your head than you ought to have. Moody. Your tongue runs too glibly, madam, and you have lived too long with a London lady, to be a proper companion for innocence. I am not over fond of you, mistress. Lucy. There's no love lost between U3. Moody. You admitted those gentlemen into the house, when 1 said I would not be at home; and there was the young fellow too, who behaved so in- decently to my wife at the tavern window. Lucy. Because you would not let him see your handsome wife out of your lodgings. Peg. Why, O Lord ! did the gentleman come hi- ther to see me, indeed ? Moody. No, no; you are not the cause of that damned question too. Peg, Come, pray. Bud, lei's go abroad before 'tis 34 THE COUNTRY CIRL. [aCT II. late; for I viill go, that't flat and plainonly into the Park. Moody. So! the obstinacy already of the town wife ; and I must, whilst she's here, humour her like one. [Aside.'\ How shall we do, that she may not be seen or known ? Lucy. Muffle her up with a bonnet and handker- chief, and I'll go with her, to avoid suspicion. Moody. No, no, I'm obliged to you for your kind- ness, but she sha'n't stir without me. Lucy. What will you do then ? Peg. What, shall we go ? I am sick with staying at home : if I don't walk in the Park, I'll do nothing that I'm bid for a week I won't be moped. Lucy. O, she has a charming spirit ! 1 coald stand your friend now, and would, if you had ever a civil word to give me. Moody. I'll give thee a better thing, I'll give thee a guinea for thy good advice, if I like it; and I can have the best of the college for the same money. Lucy. 1 despise a bribe when I am your friend, it shall be without fee or reward. Ftg. Don't be long then, for I will go out. Lucy. The tailor brought home last night the clothes you intend for a present to your godson in the country. Peg. You must not tell that, Lucy. Lucy. But I will, madam When you were with your lawyers last night. Miss Peggy, to divert me and herself, put 'em on, and they fitted her to a hair. Moody. Thank you, thank you, Lucy, 'tis the luckiest thought ! Go this moment, Peggy, into your chamber, and put them on again and you shall walk with me into the Park, as my gods*)n. Well thought of, Lucy I shall love you for ever for this. Pe^. And so shall I loo, Lucy, I'll put 'em on di- ACT UU] THE COUNTRY GIRL. S5 rectly. [^Goir^, rehirns.] Suppose, Bud, I must keep on ray petticoats, for fear of shewing my legs. Moody. No, no, you fool, never mind your legs* Exit Peggy, rejoiced.'] What a simpleton it is ! Well, Lucy, 1 thank you for the thought, and, before I leave London, thou shalt be convinced how much I am obliged to thee. [Exit, smiling. Lucy. And before you leave London, Mr Moody, I hope I shall convince you how much you are obli- ged to me. [Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter Belville and Harcouut. Belv. And the moment Moody left me, I took an opportunity of conveying some tender sentiments, through Lucy, to Miss Peggy, and here I am, in ex- pectation of seeing my country goddess. Hare. And so to blind Moody, and take him off the scent of your passion for this girl, and at the same time to give me an opportunity with Sparkish's mis- tress (and of which I have made the most) you hinted to him, with a grave melancholy face, that you were dying for his sister 'Gad-a-mercy, nephew ! I will back thy modesty against any other in the three kingdoms It will do, Dick; Belt'. What could I do, uncle? it was my las| stake, and I played for a great Jeal. \ Sd THE COUNTET GIRL. [aCT^HI. Hare. You mistake me, Dick 1 don't say you could do better 1 only can't account foryoui' mo- desty's doing so much ; you have done such ivonders, that I, who am rather bold than sheepish, have not yet ceased wondering at you. But do you think that you imposed upon him ? Belv. 'Faith, I can't say he said very little, grumbled much, shook his head, and shewed me the door. But what success have you bad with Ali- thea? Hare. Just enouuh to have a glimmering of hope, witliout having light enough to see an inch before my nose. ^This day will produce something ; Alithea is a woman of great honour, and will sacrifice her happiness to it, unless Sparkisii's absurdity stands my friend, and does every thing that the fates ought to do for me. Belv. Yonder comes the prince of coxcombs, and if your mistress and mine should by chance be trip- ping this way, this fellow will spoil sport let us avoid him you can't cheat him before his face. Hare. But 1 can though, thanks to my wit, and his want of it. Belv. But you cannot come near his mistress but in liJs company. Hare. Sldl the better for me, nephew, for fools are most easily cheated, when they themselves are acces- saries ; and he is to be bubbled of his mistress, or of his money, (the common mistress,) by keeping him company. Enter Sparkish. Spark. Who's that that is to be bubbled ? 'faith, let me snack ; I lia^i^t met with a bubble since Christmas. 'Gad, I think bubbles are like their brother wood- cocks, go out with the cold weather. JIarc. He did not hear all, I hope. [Aside to Belville. SCENE 1.] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 37 Spark. Come, you bubbling rogues, you, where do we sup? O Harcourt, my mistress tells me you have made Jove, fierce love to her last night, ail the play long ; ha, ha, ha ! but I Hare. I make love to her ! Spark. Nay, I forgive thee; I think I know you, I think 1 knov.^ her, but I am sure I know myself. Bdv. Do you, sir ? Then you are the wisest man in the world, and I honour you as such. [Boiving. Spark. O, your servant, sir, you are at your raillery, are you? You can't oblige me more I'm your maa " He'll meet with his match Ha! Harcourt! Did not you hear me laugh prodigiously at the play last night ? Hare. Yes, and was very much disturbed at it. You put the actors and audience into confusion and all your friends out of countenance. Spark. So much the better 1 love confusion and to see folks out of countenance 1 was in tip-top spirits, 'faith, and "said a thousand good things. Belv. But I thought you had gone to plays to laugh at the poet's good things, ' and not at your Spark. Your servant, sir : no, 1 thank you. 'Gad, I goto a play, as to a country treat: I carry my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other, or else I'm sure i should not be merry at either : and the reason why we are so often louder than the players is, be- cause we hate authors damnably. Belv. But why should you hate the poor rogues' you have too much wit, and despise writing, I'm sure. Spark. O yes I despise writing. But women, wo- men, that make men do all foolish things, make 'em write songs too. Every body does it : 'tis e'en as com- 58 THE COUNTRT 6IU. f ACT IW. mon with lovers, as playing with fans, and you caa no more help rhyming to your Phillis, than drinking to your Phillis, Ilarc. But the poets damned your songs, did they ? Spark. O yes, damn the poets, they turned them into burlesque,, as they call it : that burlesque is a ho- cus-pocus trick they have got, by which, by the virtue of hictius doctius, topsy turvey, they make a clever witty thing absolute nonsense ! Do you know, Har- court, that they ridiculed my last song, Twang, twang, the best I ever wrote ? Hare That may be, and be very easily ridiculed, for all that. Belv. Favour me with it, sir, I never heard it. Spark. What, and have all the Park about us? Hare. Which you'll not dislike, and so, pr*ythefr begin. Spark, I never am asked twice, and so have ^.you; SONG. Tell not me of the roses and lilies. Which tinge thejair cheek of your PhilliSf Tell not me of the dimples and eyes. For which silly Corydon dies : Let all tvhini?ig lovers go hang ; My heart would you hitj Tip your arroiv with wit. And it comes to my heart with a twang, twang. And it comes to my heart with a twang. I am rock to the handsome and pretty. Can only be touched by the witty ; And beauty will Ogle in vain, The way io my heari's through my brain. 2 SCENE 4.] THE COUMTRT GIRL. 59 Let all Vihining lovers go hang ; We wits, you must know, Have two strings to our bow. To return them their darts with a twang, twang. And return them their darts with a twang* X^At the end of the Song, Harcourt a7id Belville steal away from Sparkish, and leave him sing- ing. He sinks his voice by degrees, at the surjrrise of their being gone ; then Enter Harcourt mid Belville. Spark. What the deuce did you go away for ? Hare. Your mistress is coming. Spark. The detil she is O hide, hide me from her ! [Hides behind Harcourt. Hare. She sees you. Spark. But i will not see her : for I'm engaged, and at tins iustaat. [Looking at his Watch, Hare. Pray first take me, and recoacile me to iier. Spark. Another time ; 'faith, it is to a lady, and onfe cann<>t make excuses to a wuman. Beh. You have need of them, I believe. Spark. Pshaw, pr'ythee hide me. Enter Moody, Peggy, {in Boys Clothes,) and Alithea. Hare. Your servant Mr Moody. Moody. Come along [To Peggy. Peg. Lau ! what a sweet, delightful place this is ! Moody. Come along, i say don't stare about you BO y >u'li betray yourself [Exit Moody, pulling Peggy, Alithe\ following. Hare. He does not know us Belv. Or he won't know us Spark. So much the better lExit BUYIUB after them- 40 THE COUNTRY GlllL. [aCT III. Hare. Who is that pretty youth with him, Sparkish ? Spark. Some relation of Peggy's, I suppose, for he h something like her in the face and gawkiness. Enter Belville. Belv. By all my hopes, uncle Peggy in boy^s clothes I am all over agitation ! [^Aaide to Harcourt. Hare, Be quiet, or you'll spoil all. They return Alithea has seen you, Sparkish, and will be an- gry if you don't go to her : besides, I would fain be reconciled to her, which none but you can do, my dear friend. Spark. Well, that's a better reason, dear friend : I would not go near her now for hers or my own sake; but I can deny you nothing : for, though 1 have known thee a great while, never go, if I do not love thee as well as a new acquaintance. Hare. 1 am obliged to you, indeed, my dear friend : I would be well with her, only to be well with thee still; for these ties to wives usually dissolve all ties to friends. Sjiark. But they sha'n't, though Come along. [They retire. Enter Moody, Peggy, and Alithea. Moody. Sister, if you will not go, we must leave you. [7b Alithea.] The fool, her gallant, and she, will muster up all the young saunterers of this place. What a swarm of cuckolds and cuckold-makers are here! I begin to be uneasy. [Aside.] Come, let's be- gone, Peggy. Peg. Don't you believe that, I ha'n't half my belly full of sights yet. Moody. Tbtn walk this way. Peg. Lord, what a power of fine folks are here ! And x\Ir Belville, as I hope to be married ! [Aside. SCSNB I.] THE COUNTRY GlEU 41 Moody. Come along, what are you a muttering at ? Veg. There's the young gentleman there you were so angry about that's in love with me. Moody. No, no, he*s a dangler after your sister or pretends to be but they are all bad alike ^Come along, I say. \He pulls her away, {Exeunt Peggy and Moody. Belville/o/- lowing. Spabkish, Harcourt, and Ali- THEA come forward. Spark. Come, dear madam, for my sake you shall be reconciled to him. Alitk. For your sake I kate him. Hare, That's something too cruel, madam, to hate me for his sake. Spark. Ay, indeed, madam, too, too cruel to me, to hate my friend for my sake. Alith. I hate him because he is your enemy; and you ought to hate him too, for making love to me, if you love me. i Spark. That's a good one ? I hate a man for loving you ! if he did love you, 'tis but what he can't help ; and 'tis your fault, not his, if he admires you. Alith. Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer a man to make love to me, who am to marry you to-mor^^ row ? Hare. But why, dearest madam, will you be more concerned for his honour than he is himself? Let his honour alone for my sake and his. He has no ho- nour. Spark. How's that ? Hare. But what my dear friend can guard himself. Spark. O ho that's right again. Alith. You astonish me, sir, with want of jealousy. Spark. And you make me giddy, madam, with your jealousy and fears, and virtue and honour. 'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as tioublesome as a little reading or learning. . Ii2 45> THE COUNTRY GISl. [aCT III, Hare. Come, madam, you see you strive in vain to make him jealous of me : my dear friend is the kind- est creature in the world to me. Spark. Poor fellow ! Uarc. But his kindness only is not enough for me, without your favour, your good opinion, dear madam : 'tis that must perfect my happiness. Good gentle- man, he believes all 1 say : *would you would do so ! Jealous of me ! I would not wrong him nor you for the woikl. Spark Look you there : hear him, hear him, and not walk away so. Come hack again. [Alithea walks carelessly to and/ro. Hare. I love you, madam, so Spark. How's that ! nay now you begin to go too far indeed. Hare. So much, I confess, I say, I love you, that I would not have you miserable, and cast yourself away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable a thing as what you see here. [Clapping his Hand on his Breast, points to Sparkish. Spark. No, 'taith, 1 believe thou wouldst not ; now his meaning is plain; but I knew before thou wouldst not wrong me nor her. Hare. No, no, Heavens forbid the glory of her sex should fall so low, as into the embraces of such a con- temptible wretch, the least of mankuid my dear friend here 1 injure him ! [Efnbracing Jspakkish. Alith. Very well. Spark, No, tie, dear friend, I knew it : Madam, you see he will rather wrong himself than me in giving himself such names. Alith. Do not you understand him yet ? Spark Come, come, you shuU stay till he ha? sa- luted you ; that I may be assured you are friends, after his honest advice and declaration : come, pray, madam, be friends with him. SCENE I.] THE COUNTRY GIRL." 43 Enter Moody and Peggy. Eelville at a Distance. Bloody. What, invite your wife to kiss men ? Mon- strous ! Are you not ashamed ? Spark. Are you not ashamed, that I should have more confidence in the chastity of your family, than you have ? You must not teach me, 1 am a man of honour, sir, though I am frank and freej I am frank, sir Moody. Very frank, sir, to share your wife with your friends. -You seem to be angry, and yet won't go. [To "Alithea, AUth. No impertinence shall drive me away. Moody. Because you like it. But you ought to blush at exposing your wife as you do. Spark. What then ? It may be 1 have a pleasure in't, as 1 have to show fine clothes at a playhouse, the first day, and count money before poor rogues. Moody: He, that shows his wife or money, w'ill be in danger of having them borrowed sometimes. Spark. I love to be envied, and would not marry a wife that I alone could love. Loving alone is as dull as eating alone ; and so good night, for I must to Whitehall. Madam, I hope you arc now reconciled to my friend ; and so I wish you a good night, ma- dam, and sleep if you can ; for to-morrow, you know, 1 must visit you early with a canonical gentleman. Good night, dear Harcourt remember to send your brother. {Exit Spabkish. Hare. You may depend upon me. Madam, I hope you will not refuse my visit to-morrow, if it should be earlier, with a canonical gentleman, than Mr Spark ish ? Moody. This gentlewoman is yet under my care, therefore you must yet forbear your freedom with her. Hare. Must, sir ! Moody. Yes, sir, she is my sister. 4* THB COUNTRY GIRt. [ACT HI. Hard "T\& well she is, sir for I must be her ser- vant, sir Madam Moody. Come away, sister, we had been gone if it had not been for you, and so avoided these lewd rake- hells, who seem to haunt us. Hare, I see a little time in the country makes a man turn wild and unsociable, and only fit to converse with his horses, dogs, and his herds. Moody. I have business, sir, and must mind it : your business is pleasure, therefore you and 1 must go different ways. Hare. Well, you may go on ; but this pretty young gentleman [Takes hold of Peggv.] shall stay with us, for I suppose his business is the same with ours, pleasure. Moody. 'Sdeath, he knows her, she carries it so sillily ; yet, if he does not, I should be more silly to discover it first. [^Aside.] Come, come. Hare. Had you not rather stay with us ? [7b Peggy.] Pr'ythee, who is this pretty young fel- low? Moody., One to whom I am a guardian. I wish I could keep her out of your hands. [Aside. Hare. Who is he ? I never saw any thing so pretty in all my life. Moody. Pshaw, do not look upon him so much. He's a poor bashful youth, you'll put him out of coun- tenance. [Offers to take her axvay. Hare. Here, nephew, let me introduce this young gentleman to your acquaintance You are very like, and of the same age, and should know one another Salute him, Dick, a la Francoise. [Belville kisses her. Moody. I hate French fashions. Men kiss one an- other ! [Endeavours to take hold of her. Peg. I am out of my wits What do you kiss me for .-' I am no woman. Hare. But you are ten times handsomer. SCENE I.] THE COUNTRY GIRL.. 45 Peg. Nay, now you jeer one ; and ^ray don't jeer me. Hare. Kiss him again, Dick. Moody, No, no, no; come away, come away. [To Peggy. Hare. Why, what haste are you in? Why woa't you let me talic with him ? Moody. Because you'll debauchhim : he's ]vet young and innocent. How she gazes upon him I The devil '. [Aside.] Come, pray, let him go, I cannot stay tooling any longer; 1 tell you my wife stays supper tor us. Hare, Does she ? Come, then, we'll all go sup with her. Moody, No, no now I think on't, having staid so long lor us, 1 v\ arrant she's gone to bed. 1 wish she and I were well out of your hands. [Aside, Hare. Well then, if she be gone to bed, I wish her and you a good night. But pray, young gentleman, present my humble service to her. Peg. Thank you heartily, sir, [Botving. Moody. 'Sdcath, she will discover herself yet, in spite of me ! Aside, Bclv. And mine too, sir. Peg. That 1 will, indeed. [Bomng. Hare. Pray give her this kiss for me. [ATmes Peggy. Peg. I am very much obliged to you, sir. Moody. O Heavens ! what do 1 suffer ? Belv. And this for me. {Kisses Peggy. Peg. 'i'hank you, sir. [Courtesies, [Exeunt Bei-ville and Harcourt, laughing. 3Toody. O the idiot! Come, come, driveller. So the y are gone at last. Sister, stay vvith Peggy till I find my servant don't let her stir an inch, i'U be back directly. [Exit Moody. Enter Harcourt and Belville. Hare, W^hat, not gone yet ? .Nephew, shov7 the is THE COUNTRY GIKL, [aCT III. young gentleman Rosamond's pond, while I speak another word to this lad5^ [Exeunt Belville and Peggy. [Alithsa and Harcoubt struggle, AHtk. My brother will go distracted. Enter Moody, Moody. Where ! how ! what's become of gone whither? Alith. In the next walk only, brother. Moody. Only, only, where, where ? [Eorif. Marc, But, dearest madam Enter Moody. Moody. Gone, gone, not to be found; quite gone ; ten thousand plagues go with 'e^jt ; which way went they ? Alith. But m t*other walk, brother. Moody. T'other walk t'other devil ! Where are Ihey, 1 say ? Alith* You are too abusive, brother, and too violent about trifles. Moody. You know whera they ars, you infamous wretch, eternal shame ot your family; which you do not dishonour enough yourself, you thuik, but you must help her to it too, thou legion of Alith. Good brother Moody. Damned, damned sister ! [Exit. Alith. Show me to my chair, Mr Harcourt His scurrility has overpowered me I will get rid of his tyranny and your importunities, and give my hand to Sparkish to-morrow morning. [Exeunt^ SCENE II. Another Part of the Park. Enter Belville and Miss Peggy. Beh. No disguise could conceal you from my heart ; I pretended not to know you, that 1 might de- CKNE 11.^ THE COUNTRY GIRL. 47 ceive the dragon, that continually watches over you but now he's asleep, let us fly from misery to hap- piness. Peg. Indeed, Mr Belville, as well as I like you, I can't thinK of going away with you so and as much as 1 hate my guardian, I must take leave of him a little handsomely, or he will kill me, so he will, Belv. But, dear Miss Peggy, think of your situation; if we don't make the best use of this opportunity, we never may haw; another. Peg. Ay, but, Mr Belville I am as good as mar- ried already my guardian has contracted me, and there wants nothing but church ceremony to make us one I call him husband, and he calls me wife al- ready : he made me do so; and we had been mar- ried in church long ago, if the writings could have been finished. Bclv, That's his deceit, my sweet creature He pretends to have married you, for fear of your liking any body else You have a right to chuse for your- self, and there is no law in Heaven or earth that binds you before marriage to a man you cannot like. Peg. I'feck, no more 1 believe it does; sister Ali- thea's maid has told me as much she's a very sensi- ble girl. Belv. You are in the very jaws of perdition, and nothing but running away can avoid it the lavr will finish your chains to-morrow, and the church will rivet them the day after Let us secure our happiness by escape, and love and fortune will do the rest for us. Peg. These are fine sayings, to be sure, Mr Bel- Tille; but how shall we get my fortune out of Bud's clutches ? We must be a little cunning ; 'tis worth trying for We can at any time run away without it. Belv. I see by your fears, my dear Peggy, that you live in awe of this brutal guardian ; and if be has you 48 THE COUNTRY GIRL, [aCT IH. once more in his possession, both you and your for- tune are secured to him for ever. Peg. Ay, but it sha'n't though I thank him for that. Belv. If you marry without his consent, he can but seize upon half your fortune The other half, and a younger brother's fortui.e, with a treasure of love, are our own Take it, my sweetest Pefjgy, and this mo- ment, or we shall be divided for ever. [^Kndels, and presses her Hand. Peg. I'fackins, but we won't YOur fine talk has bewitched me. Belv. 'Tis you have bewitched me thou dear, en- chanting, sweet simplicity Let us fly with the wings of love to my house there, and we shall be safe for ever. Peg. And so we will then there, squeeze me again by the hand ; now run away with me, and if my guardy follows us, the devil take the hindmost, 1 say. [Going.] Boo I here he is. Enter Moody, hastily, and meets them. Moody. O 1 there's my strayed sheep, and the wolf again, in sheep's clothing ! Where have you been^ you puppy ? Peg. Been, Bud ? We have been hunting all over the Park to find you. Beh From one end to the other, sir. [Confusedly. Moody, But not where I was to be found, you young devil you. Why did you start when you saw me ? Peg. I'm always frightened when I see you, and if 1 did not love you so well I should run away from you, so I should. [Pouting. Moody. But I'll take care you don't. Peg. This gentleman has a favour to beg of you. Bud ? [Belville makes signs of dislike. Moody. I am not in the humour to grant iavours to young gentlemen, though you may. What have iO ACT IV.] THE COUNTRY GlBl. 49 you been doing with this young lady ? gentleman, I would say Peg. Fie, Bud, you have told all. Bclv. I have been as civil as I could to the young stranger : and, if you*ll permit me, J will take the trouble off your hands, and show the young spark Rosamond's pond, for he has not seen it yet Come, pretty youth, will you go with me ? Peg. As my guardian pleases. Moody. No, no, it does not please me whatever I think he ought to see, I shall show him myself You may visit Rosamond's pond if you will and the bot- tom of it if you will And so, sir, your humble servant. [Exeunt Moody, with Peggy under his arm, Belville a contraiy way. ACT THE FOURTH; SCENE I. Moody's House. ^ Enter Lucy and Alithea. Lucy. Well, madam, have 1 spent so much time upon you, and all this for no other purpose but to bury you alive ? for I look uponMrSparkish's bed to be little better than a grave, Alith. Hold your peace. Lucy. Nay, madam, I will ask you the reason why you would banish poor Mr Harcourt for ever from your sight? how could you be so hard-hearted r Alith. 'Twas because I was not hard-h(;arted. Ltuy. No, no ; 'twas stark love and kindness, I warrant. Alith. It was so ; I would see him no more, be- cause I love him. ^0 1'HG COUMTEY GIKI [aCT IT* lAuy, Hey-day ! a very pretty reason ! AlUh, You do not understand me. Lvcy. I wi?h you may yourself. Alith. 1 was engr.ged to marry, you see, another man, whom cfly justice will not suffer me to deceive, or injurs. Lvjcy. Can there be a greater cheat or wrong done to a man, than to give hira your person without your heart ? 1 should make a conscience of it. Alith I'll retrieve it for him, after I am married. hucy. The woman, that marries to love better, will be iS much mistaken, as the rake that marries to live better. Alith,. What nonsense you talk ! Lmcy. 'Tis a melancholy truth, madam, marrying to increase love, is like gamins' to become rich Alas! you only lose what little stock you had before, There are many woeful examples of it in this righteous town ! Alith. I find by your rhetoric you have been bribed to betray me. Lucy. Only by his merit, that has bribed your heart, ynu see, against your word and rigid honour. Alith. Come, pray talk no more of honour, nor Mr Harcourt ; I wish the other would come to secure ray fidelity to him, and his right hi me. Lwcy. You will marry him then ? Alith. Certainly. hucy Well, I wish I may never stick a pin more, if he be not an arrant natural to t'other fine gentleman. Alith. \ owii he wants i.he wit ot Harcourt. Lucy Lord, madam, what should you do with a ' fool to your husband ? You intend to be honest, don't you? Then that husbandly virtue, credulity, is thrown away upon you. Alith. He only, that could suspect my virtue, should have cause to do it \ 'tis Sparkish's confidence in my truth that obliges me to be faithful to him. itCSNX II.] THB COUNTRY GIRL 51 Lucy What, faithful to a creature who is incapable of loving aod esteeming you as he ought! To throw- away your beauty, wit, accomplishments, sweet tem- per Alith. Hold your tongue, Lucy. That you know I can't do, madam ; and upon this occasion, I will talk foi ever What, give yourself away to one, that poor I, your maid, would not accept of! Alitk, How, Lacy ! Lttcy. I would lot, >jpon ir.y honour, madam ; *tis never too late t) repent 'Take a man, and give up your coxcomb, 1 say. Scrv. Mr Sparkish, with company, madam, attends you below. Alith. I will wait upon them. [Exit Servant.] My heart begins to fail me, but I must go through with it. Go with me, Lucy. [Exit, Lucy. Not I, indeed, madam If you will leap the precipice, you shall "all by youi-self- What excel- lent advice have I thrown away ! .So I'll e'en take it where it will be more welco-^ne. Miss Peggy is bent upon mischiefagainst her guardian, and she can't have a better privy counsellor than myself I must be busy one way or another. [Exit, SCENE II. A Chamber in Moody's House* Enter Moody and Peggy. Moody. I saw him kiss your hand tsfore you saw tae. This pretence of liking my sister was all a blind the young abandoned hypocrite ! \_Aside.'\ Tell me, I say, for 1 know he likes you, and was hurrying you to his house tell me, I say 62 THE COVNTRT Glit. [aCT lY, Peg. Lord, ha*n't I told it a hundred times over ? Moody 1 would try itj in the repetition of the un- grateful tale, I could find her altering it in the least circumstance ; for, if her story be false, she is so too, l^Aside,'] Come, how was't, baggage ? Peg. Lord, what a pleasure you take to hear it, sure! Moody. No, you take more in telling it, I find ; but speak, how was't ? No lies I saw him kiss you he kissed you before ray face. Peg. Nay, you need not be so angry with him nei- ther ; for, to say the truth, he has the sweetest breath I ever knew. iUoot/j^. The devil ! you were satisfied with it then, and would do it again ? Peg. Not unless he should force me. Moody Force you, changeling ! Peg. If 1 had struggletl too much, you know he would have known I had been a woman j so 1 vi'as quiet, for fear of being found out. Moody. If you had been in petticoats then, you would have knocked him down ? Peg. With what, Bud ? 1 could not help my- self besides, he did it so modestly, and blushed so that I almost thought him a girl in men's cbthts, and upon his mummery too, as well as me and if so, there was no harm done, ycu know. Moody. This is worse and worse s.j 'tis plain shs loves h m, yet she has not love enough ti make her conceal it irom me. Love, 'twas he gave women first their craft, their art of deluding i must siraiiyle that little monster, while lean deal with him. [Aside.] Go, fetch pen, ink, and paper, out of the next room. Peg. Yes, i will, Bud. Moodi/. Go, then. Peg- I'm going. Moody Why don't you go, then? Peg. I'm going. t^''* afCENE II.] THE COUNTRY GIIIL. 5$ Moody. This young fellow loves her, and she loves him But rU crush this mischief in the shell Why- should women have more invention in love than men ? It can only be, because they have more desire, more soliciting passions, more of the devil. Enter Peggy, uith pen, ink, and paper. Come, minx, sit down and write. Peg. Ay, dear, dear Bud ; but I can't do it very vrell. Moody. I wish you could not at all. Peg. But what should I write for ? Moody. I'll have you write a letter to this young man. Peg. O Lord, a letter to the young gentleman ! Moody. Yes, to the young gentleman. Peg. Lord, you do but jeer: sure you jest ? Moody. I am not so merry : come, sit down, and write as 1 bid you. Peg. What, do you think I am a fool ? Moody She's afraid I would not dictate any love to him, therefore she's unwilling. l^Aside.J But you had best begin. Peg. Indeed and indeed but I won't, so I won't. Moody. Why ? Peg. Because he's in town : you may send for him here, if you wilL Moody. Very well, you would have him brought to you ? is it come to this ? I say, take the pen and ink and write, or you'll provoke me. Peg. Lord, wh^t do you make a fool of me for? Don't I know that letters are never writ but from the country to London, and from London into the coun- try ? now he's in town, and I am in town too j there- fore I can't write to him, you know. Moody. So, I am glad it is no worse; she's inno- cent enough yet. [_Aside.'] Yes, you may, when your husband bids, write letters to people who are in town, E 2 51 THE COUNTRY GIRl. [aCT *V. Peg. O may I so ! then I am satisfied. Moody, Come, begin Sir [Diciates. Peg. Sha'n't 1 say, dear sir ? you know one says always something more than bare Sir. Moody, Write as I bid you, or I will write some- thing with this penknife in your tace. Peg. -^Sir~~ Moody. Though I suffered last night your nauseous loathed kisses and embraces -W the ! Peg. Nay, why should I say so? you know 1 told you he had a sweet breath. Moody, Write' Peg. Let me put out loathed. Moody. Write! 1 say. Peg. Well theu. [ Writes. Moody. Let me see what you have writ. Though I suffa'ed last night your kisses and embraces ^Reuds the paper.] Thou impudent creaiure, where is nauseous and loathed ? Peg. 1 can't abide to write such filthy words. Moody. Once more, write as i'd have you, or I will spoil your writing with this ; I will stab out those eyes that cause ray mischief. [Holds up the penknife. Peg. O Lord, I will. Moody. So so let's see now : Though I suffered last night your nauseous loathed kisses and embraces ; go on> yet would not have you presume that you shall ever repeat them so. [She writes. Peg. I have writ it. Moody. O then / then concealed myself from your knowledge, to avoid your insolencies [SAe writes. Peg. To avoid Moody. Your insolencies Peg. YoiO' insolencies. [Writes. Moody. The same reason, noxv I am out qf your hands Peg, So-- [She writes. 9CEKE IlJ THE COUNTRY GIUL. 55 Moody. Makes me oivn to you my unfortunate-^ though innocent frolic of being in man's clothes. ''[She writes. Peg. So M<'Oiiy That you may for evermore - Peg. JEvr rifioie ? Moo cuse. Beh. You shall be always welcome to me ; but you seem ruffled, sir; what brings you hither, and so seem- ingly out of humour ? Moody. Your impertiuency I beg pardon, your modesty, I t^iean. Belv. My im pertinency! Moody Your impertinency. Belv. Sir, from the peculiarity of your character, and your intimacy with my uncle, I shall allow you great privileges; but you must consider, youth has its privileges too ; and as I have not the honour of your acquaintance, 1 am not obliged to bear with your ill humours, or your ill manners. Moody. They who wrong me, young man, must bear with both; and if you had not made too free with me, I should have taken no liberties with you. Belv I could have wish'd^ sir, to have found you a little more civil, the first time 1 have the honour of a visit from you. Moody. If that is all you want, young gentleman*^ SCBNS III.] THE COUNTST GIRL. Sf you will find me very civil indeed ! There, sir, read that, and let your modesty declare whether I want either kindness or civilityLook you there, sir. [Gives a letter, Beh. Wh2ii is it? Moody. Only a love letter, sir ;-. .. and from my wife. Belv. How, is it from your wife? hum hum- \_^Reads, Moody. Even from my wife, sir; am not I won* drous kind and civil to you now too ? But you'll net think her so. [Aside. Belv. Ha 1 is this a trick of his or hers? [Aside, Moody. The gentleman's surprised, I find : what, you expected a kinder letter ? Belv. No, 'faith, not I, how could I ? Moody. Yes, yes, I'm sure you did ; a man so young and well made as you are, must needs be dis- appointed, if the women declare not their passion at the first sight or opportunity. Bdv. But what should this mean? It seems he knows not what the letter contains ! [Aside, Moody. Come, ne'er wonder at it so much. Belv. 'faith, I can't help it. Moody. Now 1 think I have deserved your infinite friendship and kindness, and have showed myself suf- ficiently an obliging kind friend and husband am I not so, to bring a letter from my wife to her gaU lant ? Belv. Ay, indeed, you are the most obliging kind friend and husband in the world ; ha, ha, ha ! Pray, however, present my humble service to her, and tell her, 1 will obey her letter to a tittle, and fulfil her desires, be they what they will, or with what difficul ty soever I do't ; and you shall be no more jealous of me : I warrant her and you. Moody. Well then, fare you well, and play with any ^ THE COUNTRY CIRl. [ACT IT. man's honour but mine, kiss any man's wife but mine, and welcome so, Mr Modesty, your servant. ^ [As MooDT is going ottt. Enter Sparkish, voho meets him. Spark. So, brother-in-law, that was to have been, I have followed you from home to Belville'a : I have strange news for you- Moody. Strange news ! what, are you wiser than you were this morning ? Spark. 'Faith, I don't know but I am, for I have lost your sister, and I sha'n't eat half an ounce the less at dinner for it ; there's philosophy for you ! Moody. Insensibility you mean I hope you don't mean to use my sister ill, sir ? Spark. No, sir, she has used me ill; she's in her tantrums-~-l have had a narrow escape, sir. Moody. If thou art endowed with the smallest por tion of understanding, explain this riddle. Belv' Ay, ay, pr'ythee, Sparkish, condescend to be intelligible. Spark. Why, you must know, we had settled to be married -it is the same thing to me, whether I am married or not I have no particular fancy one way or other, and so I told your sister ; off or on, 'tis the same thing to me ; but the thing was fixed, you know You and my aunt brought it about I had no band in it. And, to show you that I was as willing to marry your sister as any other woman, I suffert-d the law to tie me up to hard terms, and the chuicn would have finished me still to harder but she was taken with her tantrums ! Moody. Damn your tantrums come to the point. Spark. Your sister took an aversion to the parson, Frank Harcourt's brother. abused him like a pick- pocket, and swore 'twas Harcourt himself. Moody, And so it was, for I saw him. SCENE 111.3 ''"^ COUNTRY GIRL. 61 Spark. Why, you are as mad as your sister .1 tell you it was Ned, Frank's twin brother. Moody. What, Frank told you so? Spark. Ay, and Ned too they were both in a story. Moody. What an incorrigible fellow ! Come, come, I must begone. Spark. Nay, nay, you shall hear my story out. She walked up within pistol shot of the church then twirled round upon her heel called me every name she could think of; and when she had exhausted her imagination, and tired her tongue no easy matter, let me tell you she called her chair, sent her foot- man to buy her a monkey before my face, then bid me good-morrow with a sneer, and left us with our mouths open, in the middle of a hundred people, who were all laughing at us ! If these are not tantrums, I don't know what are. Moody. Ha, ha, ha ! I thank thee, Sparkish, from my soul ; *tis a most exquisite story ; 1 have not had such a laugh for this half year Thou art a most ridiculous puppy, and I am infinitely obliged to thee ; ha, ha, ha ! [Exit MooDT, Spark. Did you ever hear the like, Eelville > Belv. O yes; how is it possible to hear such a fool- ish story, and see thy foolish face, and not laugh at them ? ha, ha, ha ! [Lucy, in the Closet, laughs. Spark. Hey-day! what's that? What, have you raised a devil in the closet, to make up a laughing chorus at me ? I rhust take a peep iGoing to the Closet, Belv. Indeed but you must not. Spark. *Twas a woman's voice. Belv So much the better for me. Spark. Pr'ythee, introduce me. Belv. Though you take a pleasure in exposing your ladies, I chuse to conceal name. So, my dear Sparkish, F S2 fHE COUNTRY CIBL. [aCT IT. lest the lady should be sick by too long a confine* ment, and laughing heartily at you, 1 must entreat you to withdraw Pr'ythee, excuse me, I must laugh ha, ha, ha! Spark. Do you know that I begin to be angry, Bel- Tille ? Belv. I can't help that ; ha, ha, ha ! Spark. My character's at stake I shall be thought a damned silly fellow I will cajl Alithea to an ac- count directly. [^Exit. Belv. Ha, ha, ha ! Lucy. I Peeping out.] Ha, ha, ha 1 O dear sir, let me have my laugh out, or I shall burst What an adven- ture ! [Laughs. Belv. My sweet P'ggy has sent me the kindest let- ter and by the dragon himself^ Fhere's a spirit for you! Lua/. There's simplicity for you ! Show me a town- bred girl with half the genius Send you a love-let- ter, and by a jealous guardian too ! ha, ha, ha ! Well, Mr Belville the world goes as it should do . my mistress will exchange her fool for a wit ; Miss Peggy her brute for a pretty young fellow; I shall dance at two weddnigs be well rewarded by both parties get a husband myself, and be as happy as the best of you and so your humble servant. [^Exie. Belv. Success attend you, Lucy ! {^Exit. ACT V.3 THE COUNTEY eiL* 63 ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. Moody's House* J*EGCY alone, leaning on her elbow. A Talk, Pen^ InH; and Paper. Peg. Well, *tis e*en so, 1 have got the London dis*' ease they call love ; I am sick of my guardian, and dy- ing for Mr Belville! I have heard this distemper called a fevfcf, but methinks it is like an ague; for,whea I think of my guardian, I tnmble, and am so cold; butwlien I think of dear Mr Belville, my hot fit comes, and I am ail in a tever indeed. Ah ! poor Mr Bel- ville ' Well, ] cannot, wiil not slay here; therelore I'll make an end o' m? letter to him, which shall be a finer letter than my last, because 1 have studied it like any tiling. On ! sick, bick ! JEnter i\]o< dy, tv/io, seeing her uridng, steals softly he-t hind her, and, looking over her Shoulder, snatches the Paper Jiom he>\ Moody. What, w ritintf m',se but let's see't. [Reads.] Iir.'-l, I urn to beg ii our par- don for my boldness in writing to you, uohich I'd have you to know I would not have done, hnd you n^t taid Jirst you loved me so extremely ; ti/iu/i, if you do, you imll never suffer me to he ayiother nian^s, -whom Iloathp nauseate^ and detest : (Now you can write these filthy 64 THE COUNTRY GIRL. [aCT T. words.) But what follows ? therefore y I hopS you xvill speedily find some vcay to free me from this unfor- tunate match, ivhich tuas never, I assure you, of my choice, but I*m afraid 'tis already too far gone ; hove ever, if you love me, as I do you, you ivill try tvhat you can do ; you mu:4 help me away before to-morrow, or else, alas J I shall be for ever out of your reach ; for I can defer no longer owr our What is to follow ourf speak what our journey into the country, I suppose. Oh, woman, damned woman ! and love, damned love ! their old tempter. But make an end of your letter, and then I'll make an end of you thus, and all my plagues together. [Draws his Sword, Peg. O Lord ! O Lord ! you are such a passionate man, Bud ! Moody. Come, take the pen, and make an end of the letter, just as you intended ; if you are false in a tittle, I shall soon perceive it, and punish you with this, as you deserve. ^Lays his Hand on his Sword.'] Write what was to follow let's see You must make haste, and help me away before to-morrow, or else I shall be for ever out of your reach ; for I can defer no longer our What follows our ? [Peggy takes the Pen and writes. Peg. Must all out then. Bud > Look you there then. Moody. Let's see for I can defer no longer our tvedding Your slighted Alithea. What's the meaning of this ; my sister's name to't ? speak, un- riddle. Peg. Ay, but you'll tell her again : if you would not tell her again Moody. I will not ; I am stunned, my head turns round. Speak. Peg. Won't you tell her indeed, and indeed ? Moody. No ; speak, I say. Peg. She'll be angry with me, but I had rather she should be angry with rae than you. Bud. And, to tell CEMB I.] TaC COVNTRT GIKL. 6S you the truth, 'twas she made me write the letter, and taught mc what I should write. Moody. Ha ! I thought the style was somewhat better thaa her own. \Aside.] Could she come to you to teach you, since I had locked you up alone ? Peg. Oh, through tne key-hole. Bud. Moody, But why should she make you write a let- ter for her to him, since she can write herself? Peg. Why, she said because . Moody. Because, what Peg. Why, because, Bud Moody. Because, what? I say. Peg. Because, lest Mr Belville, as he was so young, should be inconstant, and refuse her, or be vain after- wards, and show the letter, she might disown it, the hand not being hers. Moody. Belville again ! Am I to be deceived again with that young hypocrite ? Peg. You have deceived yourself. Bud, you have in- deed 1 have kept the secret, (or my sister's sake, as long as I could but you must know it and shall know it too. \_Cnes. Moody Dry your eyes. Peg. You always thought he was hankering after me Good law ! he's dying for Alithea, and Alithea for him they have had private meetings and he was making love to her, before yesterday, from the tavera window, when you thoueht it was me I would have discovered ail but she made me swear to de- ceive you, and so I have finely hare not I, Bud? Moody. Why did you write that foolish letter to him then, and make me more foolish to carry it? Peg. To carry on the joke. Bud to oblige them. Moody. And will nothing serve her but that great baby ? he's too young for Tier to marry. Peg. Why do you marry me then ? 'tis the same thing, Bud. p2 66 THE COUKTRY GIRL. [aCT V. Moody. No, no, *tis quite different How innocent she is! This changeling could not invent this lie; but if she could, why should she? she might think I should soon discover it. \Aside^ But hark you, ma- dam, your sister went out in the morning, and I have not seen her within since. Peg. Aiack-a-day ! she has been crying all day above, it seems, in a corner. Moody. Where is she ? let me speak with her. Veg. b Lord ! then she'll discover all ! \_Aside^ Pray hold, Bud ; what, d'ye mean to discover me ? she'll know I have told you then. Pray, Bud, let me talk with her first. Moody. I must speak with her, to know whether Belyille ever made her any promise, and whether she will be married to Sparkish or no. Peg. Pray, dear Bud, don't, till I have spoken with her, and told her that I have told you all ; for she'll kill me else. Moody. Go then, and bid her come to me. Peg. Yes, yes. Bud. Moody. Let me see Peg. I have just time to know of Lucy, who first set me to work, what lie I shall tell next; for I am e'en at ray wit's end. ^ Aside, and exit. Moody. Well, I resolve it, Belville shall have her : I'd rather give him ray sister, than lend him my wife ; and such an alliance will prevent his pretensions to my wife, sure I'll make him of kin to her, and then he won't care for her. Enter Peggy, Peg. O Lord, Bud, I told you what anger you would make me with my sister. Moody. Won't she come hither ? Peg. No, she won't : she's ashamed to look you in the face. She'll go directly to Mr Belville, she says. Pray let her have her way, Bud-he won't be pat i- SCENE 1.] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 67 fied if you dou'tand will never forgive me For my part. Bud, I believe, but don't tell any body, they have broken a piece of silver between them or have contracted one another, as we have done, you know, which is the next thing to being married. Moody. Pooh ! you fool she is ashamed of talk- ing with me a,bout Belvitle, because I made the match for her with Sparkish ! But bparkish is a fool, and I have no objection to Belville's family or fortune tell her so. Peg. I will. Bud. \_Going. Moody. Stay, stay, Peggy let her have her own way she shall go to Belville herself, and PU follow her that will be best let her have her whim. Peg. You're in the right. Bud for they have certainly had a quarrel, by her crying and hanging her head so I'll be hanged if her eyes an't swelled out of her head, she's in such a piteous taking. Moody. Belville sha'n't use her ill, Pll take care of that if he has made her a promise, he shall keep to it but she had better go first 1 will follow her at a distance, that she may have no interruption : and I will wait in the Park before I see them, that they may come to a reconciliation before I come upon them. Peg. La, Bud, how wise you are ! I wish I had half your wisdom ; you see every thing at once - Stand o' one side then there, a little further that way. Moody. So I will she sha'n't see me till I break in upon her at Belville's. Peg. Now for it. [Exit Peggy. Moody. My case is something better for, suppose the worst should Belville use her ill I had rather fighi him tor not marrying my sister, than for de- bauching my wife, for i will make her mine abso- lutely to-morrow; and, of the two, I had rather find 68 THE COUNTRY GIM,. [ACT V. my sister too forward than my wife ; I expected no other from her free education, as she calls it, and her passion for the town. Well, wife and sister are names which make us expect love and duty, pleasure and comfort ; but we find them plagues and torments, and are equally, though differently, troublesome to their keeper but here she comes. [Steps on one side. Enter Peggy, dressed liJc Alithea ; and as she passes over the Stage^ seems to sigh, sobf and wipe her eyes. Peg, Heigho ! [Exit. Moody. [Comes forward.] There the poor devil goes, sighing and sobbing; a woeful example of the fatal consequences of a town education but I am bound in duty, as well as in inclination, to do my utmost to save her but first I'll secure my own property. [Opens the Door, and calls.] Peggy ! Peggy ! my dear! I will return as soon as possible Do you hear me ? Why don't you answer ? You may read in the book I bought you till I come back As the Jew says in the play, " Fast bind, fast find." [Locks the Dooi.] This is the best, and only security, of female affections. SCENE 11. TJie Park before Belville's Z>oor, Enter Sparkish, drunk. Spark. If I can but meet with her, or any body that belongs to her, they will find me a match for them When a man has wit, and a great deal of it, champagne gives it a double edge, and nothing can fi'ithstand it-^'tis a lighted match to gunpowder . - SCENE II.] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 69 I was right to consult my friends, and they all agree with Moody, that 1 make a damned ridiculous figure, as matters stand at present. I'll consult Belville this is his house he's my friend too and no tool. It shall be so damn it, I must not be ridiculous. [Going to the Door, sees Peggy coniing.] Hold ! hold ! if the champagne does nol burst ray eyesight, while it sharpens my wit, the enemy is marching up this way. Come on, madam Alithea ; now for a smart tire, and then let's see who will be ridiculous. Enter Peggy. Peg. Dear me, I -begin to tremble there is Mr Sparkish, and I can't get to Mr Belviile's house with- out passing him >he sees me and wdl discover me he seems in liquor too ! bless me ! Spark. Oho ! she stands at bay a little she don't much relish the engagement. The first blow is half the battle, I'll be a little figurative with her. [^p- proaching her.] 1 find, madam, you like a solo better than a duet. You need not have been walking alone this evening, if you had been wiser yesterday What, nothing to say for yourself? Repentance, I suppose, makes you as awkward and as foolish as the poor country girl your brother has locked up in Pali- Mall. Peg. I'm frightened out of my wits. [Tries to pass by him Spark. Not a step farther shall you go, till you give me an account of your behaviour, and make me re- paration for being ridiculous. What, dumb still- then, if you won't by fair means, I must squeeze you to a confession. [As he goes to seize her, she slips bi/ him ; but he catches hold of her before she reaches Bkl- vii XF.'s i5(;or.] Not quite so fast, if you please. Come, come, let me see your modest face, and hear your soft tongue, or I shall be tempted to use you ill. 70 THE COUNTRY GIRL. [acT V. Enter Moody. Moody. Hands off^ you ruffian how dare you use a lady, and ray sister, in this manner ? [Moody takes herjrom Sparkish. Spark, She's my property, sir transferred to me by you and though 1 would give her up to any body for a dirty sword-knot, yet I won't be bullied out of my right, though it is not worth that [Snaps his Fingers, Moody. There's a fellow to be a husband you are justified in despising him, and flying irom liini-^ I'll defend you with my purse and my sword knock at the door, and let me speak wiih Bel- ville [Plggy knocks at the Door : tchen the Foot- man opens it, she runs in.] Is your master at home, friend ? Foot. Yes, sir. Moody. Teil him then that I have rescued that lady from this gentleman, and that, by her desire, and my consent, she flies to him for ])rotection ; if he can get a parson, let him marry her this minute; tell him so, and shut the door. [Exit Footman.] And now, sir, if your wine has given you courage, you had better show it upon this occasion, for you are still damned ridiculous. Spa7-k. Did you ever hear the like ! Look ye, Mr Moody, we are in the Park, and to draw a sword is an oflence to the court so you may vapour as long as you please. A woman of so little taste is not worth fighting for she's not worth uiy sword ! but if you'll fight me to-morrow morning for diversion, I am your man. Moody. Kelinquish your title in the lady to Bel- ville peaceably, and you may sleep in a whole skin. - Spark, Belville ! he would not have your sister with SCENE 11.] THE COUNTRY CIRU 71 the fortune of a nabob ; no, no, his mouth waters at your country tit-bit at home .much good may it do him. Moody. And you think so, puppy ha, ha, ha ! Spark. Yes, I do, mastiff ha, ha, ha I Moody, Then thy folly is complete ha, ha, ha ! Spark. Thine will be so, when thou hast married thy country innocenceha, ha, ha ! [They laugh at each other. Enter Habcourt. Spark. "What, my boy, Harcourt ! Moody. What brings you here, sir ? Hare. I followed you to Belville's, to present a near relation of yours, and a nearer one of mine, to you. [Exit, Spark. What's the matter now ? Enter Harcourt with Alithea. Hare, Give me leave, gentlemen, without offence to either, to present Mrs Harcourt to you ! Spark. Alithea! your wife! Mr Moody, are you Hi the clouds too ? Moody. If I am not in a dream I am the most miserable waking dog that ever ran mad with his mis- fortunes and astonishment ! Hare. Why so. Jack ? can yoM objf^ct to my hap- piness, when this gentleman was unwoiHiv of ir, ? [MooDV ivalks about in a rage. Spark. This is very fine, very fine indeei! where's your story about Belville now, 'Squire M ody ! Pr'y- thee don't chafe and stare and stride, and beat thy head, like a mad tragedy poet, but out with thy tropes and figures. 72 THB COUNTRY GIRL. [[aCT V. Moody. Zounds ! I can't bear it [Goes hastily to Belville's Door, and knocks hard, Alith, Dear brother, what's, the matter ? Moody. The devil's the matter ! the devil and wo- man together. [Knocks again.!^ I'll break the door t!own if they won't answer, [Knocks again. Footman appears in ike Balcony, Foot. What would your honour please to hate ? Moody. Your master, rascal ! Foot. He is obej-ing your commands, sir, and the moment he is finished, he will do himself the pleasure to wait on you. Moody. You sneering villain you if your master does not produce that she-devil, who is now with him, and who, with a face of innocence, has cheated and undone me, I'll set fire to his house. [Exit Footman. ^ark. Gad so ! now I begin to smoke the business. Well said, simplicity ! rural simplicity ! Egad ! if thou hast tricked Cerberus here, I shall be so ravish- ed, that I will give this couple a wedding dinner. Pray, Mr Moody, who's damned ridiculous now ? Moody. [Going to Sparkish.] Look ye, sir don't grin, for if you dare to show your leeth at my misfor- tunes, I'll dash them down your impudent throat, you jackanapes. Spark. [Quite calm.] Very fine, *faith but I hare no weapons to butt with a mad bull, so you may toss and roar by yourself, if you please, Belvilie appears in the Balcony. Bel. What does my good friend want with me ? , Moody. Are you a villain, or are you not ? SCENE II.] THE COUNTRY GIRL. 73 Belv. I have obeyed your commands, sir. Moody. What have you done with the girl, sir ? Belv. Made her my wife, as you desired. Spark. Very true, I am your witness Moody. She's my wife, and I demand her. Peggy appears in the Balcony, Peg. No, but I ar'n't What's the matter. Bud, are you angry with me ? Moody. How dare you look me in the face, cock- atrice ? Peg, How dare you look me in the face. Bud ? Have you not given me to another, when you oughts to have married me yourself? Have not you pre- tended to be married to me, when you knew in your conscience you was not? And have not you been shilly shally for a long time ? So that if I had not mar- ried dear Mr Belville, I should not have married at all so I should not. [^Belville and Peggy retire from the Balcony. Spark. Extremely pleasant, faith ; ha, ha, ha ! Moody. I am stupified with shame, rage, and asto- nishment. [Sighs.] I cannot bear to look, or be looked upon I will hurry down to my old house, take a twelvemonth's provision into it cut down my draw-bridge, run wild about my garden, which shall grow as wild as myself then will I curse the world, and every individual in it and, when my rage and spirits fail me, I will be found dead among the nettles and thistles, a woeful example of the baseness and treachery of one sex, and of the falsehood, lying, perjury, deceit, impudence, and damnation of the other. [Exit, Spark. Very droll, and extravagantly comic, I must confess ; ha, ha, ha ! G 74' THE COUNTRY GIRL. [aCT V. Enter Belville and Peggy. Look ye, Belville, I wish you joy, with all my heart you have got the prize, and perhaps have caught a Tartar that's no business of mine. If you want evidence for Mr Moody's giving his consent to your marriage,!' shall be ready. I bear no ill will to that pair, iwish you happy [To Alithea and Har- couRT.] though I'm sure they'll be miserable and so your humble servant. [Exit, Peg. 1 hope you forgive me, Alithea, for playing your brother this trick ; indeed I should have only made him and myself miserable, had we married to- gether. Alith. Then 'tis much better as it is. But I am yet in the dark how tnis matter has been brought about: how your innocence, my dear, has outwitted his world- ly wisdom. Peg. I am sure I'll do any thing to please my Bud, but marry him. Peggy comes forward, and addresses tJie Audience, But you, good gentry, what say you to this ? You are to judge me have I done amiss ? I've reasons will convince you all, and strong ones ; Except old folks, who hanker after young ones ; Bud was so passionate, and grown so thriity, ^Twas a sad life ; . and then, he was near fifty ! I'm but nineteen my husband too is young. So soft, so gentle, such a winning tongue ! Have I, pray ladies, speak, done very wrong ? As for poor Bud, 'twas honest to deceive him ! More virtuous sure, to cheat him, than to grieve him. Great folks, I know, will call me simple slut, * Marry for love !" they cry, " the country put !" Marriage with them's a fashion soon grows cool : But I'm for loving always, like a fool. } SCENE II.] [the country giru 7^ With half my fortune I would rather pait. Than be all finery, with an aching heart : For these strange awkward notions don't abuse me. And, as I know no better, pray excuse me. f[Exennt omnes. THE END. ^WJ mj JVI University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. iui ' "'oaj/Miiiiin'- UUJ) I J 3VJ VIUJltT J ^' '^AlIFO^ ^)l -'...: 3 1158 01025 9512 m - 'SQr^ '^'\i'^j,MNil-]\Vv '^!9AavHan-3 \\{)r.r tVi ^ i' g I i''- ' " ' " - =: /^ UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 000 054 865 i ^^^'^'^ ^/' JO- ^