let’s lose no time.

Will. My time’s as precious to me, as thine can be; therefore, dear
Creature, since we are so well agreed, let’s retire to my Chamber, and
if ever thou were treated with such savory Love—Come—My Bed’s prepar’d
for such a Guest, all clean and sweet as thy fair self; I love to steal
a Dish and a Bottle with a Friend, and hate long Graces—Come, let’s
retire and fall to.

Hell. ’Tis but getting my Consent, and the Business is soon done; let
but old Gaffer _Hymen_ and his Priest say Amen to’t, and I dare lay my
Mother’s Daughter by as proper a Fellow as your Father’s Son, without
fear or blushing.

Will. Hold, hold, no Bugg Words, Child, Priest and _Hymen_: prithee add
Hangman to ’em to make up the Consort—No, no, we’ll have no Vows but
Love, Child, 101 nor Witness but the Lover; the kind Diety injoins
naught but love and enjoy. _Hymen_ and Priest wait still upon Portion,
and Joynture; Love and Beauty have their own Ceremonies. Marriage is as
certain a Bane to Love, as lending Money is to Friendship: I’ll neither
ask nor give a Vow, tho I could be content to turn Gipsy, and become a
Left-hand Bridegroom, to have the Pleasure of working that great
Miracle of making a Maid a Mother, if you durst venture; ’tis upse
Gipsy that, and if I miss, I’ll lose my Labour.

Hell. And if you do not lose, what shall I get? A Cradle full of Noise
and Mischief, with a Pack of Repentance at my Back? Can you teach me to
weave Incle to pass my time with? ’Tis upse Gipsy that too.

Will. I can teach thee to weave a true Love’s Knot better.

Hell. So can my Dog.

Will. Well, I see we are both upon our Guard, and I see there’s no way
to conquer good Nature, but by yielding—here—give me thy Hand—one Kiss
and I am thine—

Hell. One Kiss! How like my Page he speaks; I am resolv’d you shall
have none, for asking such a sneaking Sum—He that will be satisfied
with one Kiss, will never die of that Longing; good Friend single-Kiss,
is all your talking come to this? A Kiss, a Caudle! farewel, Captain
single-Kiss. [Going out he stays her.

Will. Nay, if we part so, let me die like a Bird upon a Bough, at the
Sheriff’s Charge. By Heaven, both the _Indies_ shall not buy thee from
me. I adore thy Humour and will marry thee, and we are so of one
Humour, it must be a Bargain—give me thy Hand— [Kisses her hand.]
And now let the blind ones (Love and Fortune) do their worst.

Hell. Why, God-a-mercy, Captain!

Will. But harkye—The Bargain is now made; but is it not fit we should
know each other’s Names? That when 102 we have Reason to curse one
another hereafter, and People ask me who ’tis I give to the Devil, I
may at least be able to tell what Family you came of.

Hell. Good reason, Captain; and where I have cause, (as I doubt not but
I shall have plentiful) that I may know at whom to throw my—Blessings—I
beseech ye your Name.

Will. I am call’d _Robert the Constant_.

Hell. A very fine Name! pray was it your Faulkner or Butler that
christen’d you? Do they not use to whistle when then call you?

Will. I hope you have a better, that a Man may name without crossing
himself, you are so merry with mine.

Hell. I am call’d _Hellena the Inconstant_.

Enter _Pedro_, _Belvile_, _Florinda_, _Fred_. _Valeria_.

Ped. Hah! _Hellena!_

Flor. _Hellena!_

Hell. The very same—hah my Brother! now, Captain, shew your Love and
Courage; stand to your Arms, and defend me bravely, or I am lost for
ever.

Ped. What’s this I hear? false Girl, how came you hither, and what’s
your Business? Speak. [Goes roughly to her.

Will. Hold off, Sir, you have leave to parly only. [Puts himself
between.

Hell. I had e’en as good tell it, as you guess it. Faith, Brother, my
Business is the same with all living Creatures of my Age, to love, and
be loved, and here’s the Man.

Ped. Perfidious Maid, hast thou deceiv’d me too, deceiv’d thy self and
Heaven?

Hell. ’Tis time enough to make my Peace with that: Be you but kind, let
me alone with Heaven.

Ped. _Belvile_, I did not expect this false Play from you; was’t not
enough you’d gain _Florinda_ (which I pardon’d) but your leud Friends
too must be inrich’d with the Spoils of a noble Family?

103 Belv. Faith, Sir, I am as much surpriz’d at this as you can be:
Yet, Sir, my Friends are Gentlemen, and ought to be esteem’d for their
Misfortunes, since they have the Glory to suffer with the best of Men
and Kings; ’tis true, he’s a Rover of Fortune, yet a Prince aboard his
little wooden World.

Ped. What’s this to the maintenance of a Woman or her Birth and
Quality?

Will. Faith, Sir, I can boast of nothing but a Sword which does me
Right where-e’er I come, and has defended a worse Cause than a Woman’s:
and since I lov’d her before I either knew her Birth or Name, I must
pursue my Resolution, and marry her.

Ped. And is all your holy Intent of becoming a Nun debauch’d into a
Desire of Man?

Hell. Why—I have consider’d the matter, Brother, and find the Three
hundred thousand Crowns my Uncle left me (and you cannot keep from me)
will be better laid out in Love than in Religion, and turn to as good
an Account—let most Voices carry it, for Heaven or the Captain?

All cry, a Captain, a Captain.

Hell. Look ye, Sir,’tis a clear Case.

Ped. Oh I am mad—if I refuse, my Life’s in Danger— [Aside.]
—Come—There’s one motive induces me—take her—I shall now be free from
the fear of her Honour; guard it you now, if you can, I have been a
Slave to’t long enough. [Gives her to him.

Will. Faith, Sir, I am of a Nation, that are of opinion a Woman’s
Honour is not worth guarding when she has a mind to part with it.

Hell. Well said, Captain.

Ped. This was your Plot, Mistress, but I hope you have married one that
will revenge my Quarrel to you— [To _Valeria_.

Val. There’s no altering Destiny, Sir.

104 Ped. Sooner than a Woman’s Will, therefore I forgive you all—and
wish you may get my Father’s Pardon as easily; which I fear.

Enter _Blunt_ drest in a _Spanish_ Habit, looking very ridiculously;
his Man adjusting his Band.

Man. ’Tis very well, Sir.

Blunt. Well, Sir, ’dsheartlikins I tell you ’tis damnable ill, Sir—a
Spanish Habit, good Lord! cou’d the Devil and my Taylor devise no other
Punishment for me, but the Mode of a Nation I abominate?

Belv. What’s the matter, _Ned?_

Blunt. Pray view me round, and judge— [Turns round.

Belv. I must confess thou art a kind of an odd Figure.

Blunt. In a Spanish Habit with a Vengeance! I had rather be in the
Inquisition for Judaism, than in this Doublet and Breeches; a Pillory
were an easy Collar to this, three Handfuls high; and these Shoes too
are worse than the Stocks, with the Sole an Inch shorter than my Foot:
In fine, Gentlemen, methinks I look altogether like a Bag of Bays
stuff’d full of Fools Flesh.

Belv. Methinks ’tis well, and makes thee look _en Cavalier:_ Come, Sir,
settle your Face, and salute our Friends, Lady—

Blunt. Hah! Say’st thou so, my little Rover? [To _Hell._] Lady—(if you
be one) give me leave to kiss your Hand, and tell you, adsheartlikins,
for all I look so, I am your humble Servant—A Pox of my _Spanish_
Habit.

Will. Hark—what’s this? [Musick is heard to Play.

Enter _Boy_.

Boy. Sir, as the Custom is, the gay People in Masquerade, who make
every Man’s House their own, are coming up.

Enter several Men and Women in masquing Habits, with Musick, they put
themselves in order and dance.

Blunt. Adsheartlikins, wou’d ’twere lawful to pull off their false
Faces, that I might see if my Doxy were not amongst ’em.

105 Belv. Ladies and Gentlemen, since you are come so _a propos_, you
must take a small Collation with us. [To the Masquers.

Will. Whilst we’ll to the Good Man within, who stays to give us a Cast
of his Office. [To _Hell._
—Have you no trembling at the near approach?

Hell. No more than you have in an Engagement or a Tempest.

Will. Egad, thou’rt a brave Girl, and I admire thy Love and Courage.

Lead on, no other Dangers they can dread,
Who venture in the Storms o’th’ Marriage-Bed. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE

The banisht Cavaliers! a Roving Blade!
A popish Carnival! a Masquerade!
The Devil’s in’t if this will please the Nation,
In these our blessed Times of Reformation,
When Conventicling is so much in Fashion.
And yet—
That mutinous Tribe less Factions do beget,
Than your continual differing in Wit;
Your Judgment’s (as your Passions) a Disease:
Nor Muse nor Miss your Appetite can please;
You’re grown as nice as queasy Consciences,
Whose each Convulsion, when the Spirit moves,
Damns every thing that Maggot disapproves.

With canting Rule you wou’d the Stage refine,
And to dull Method all our Sense confine.
With th’ Insolence of Common-wealths you rule,
Where each gay Fop, and politick brave Fool,
On Monarch Wit impose without controul.
As for the last who seldom sees a Play,
Unless it be the old Black-Fryers way,
106 Shaking his empty Noddle o’er _Bamboo_,
He crys—Good Faith, these Plays will never do.
—Ah, Sir, in my young days, what lofty Wit,
What high-strain’d Scenes of Fighting there were writ:
These are slight airy Toys. But tell me, pray,
What has the _House of Commons_ done to day?
Then shews his Politicks, to let you see
Of State Affairs he’ll judge as notably,
As he can do of Wit and Poetry.

The younger Sparks, who hither do resort,
Cry—
Pox o’ your gentle things, give us more Sport;
—Damn me, I’m sure ’twill never please the Court.

Such Fops are never pleas’d, unless the Play
Be stuff’d with Fools, as brisk and dull as they:
Such might the Half-Crown spare, and in a Glass
At home behold a more accomplisht Ass,
Where they may set their Cravats, Wigs and Faces,
And practice all their Buffoonry Grimaces;
See how this—Huff becomes—this Dammy—flare—
Which they at home may act, because they dare,
But—must with prudent Caution do elsewhere.
Oh that our _Nokes_, or _Tony Lee_ could show
A Fop but half so much to th’ Life as you.

107

POST-SCRIPT

THIS Play had been sooner in Print, but for a Report about the Town
(made by some either very Malitious or very Ignorant) that ’twas
_Thomaso_ altered; which made the Book-sellers fear some trouble from
the Proprietor of that Admirable Play, which indeed has Wit enough to
stock a Poet, and is not to be piec’t or mended by any but the
Excellent Author himself; That I have stol’n some hints from it may be
a proof, that I valu’d it more than to pretend to alter it: had I had
the Dexterity of some Poets who are not more expert in stealing than in
the Art of Concealing, and who even that way out-do the _Spartan-_Boys
I might have appropriated all to myself, but I, vainly proud of my
Judgment hang out the Sign of Angelica (the only Stol’n Object) to give
Notice where a great part of the Wit dwelt; though if the Play of the
_Novella_ were as well worth remembring as _Thomaso_, they might
(bating the Name) have as well said, I took it from thence: I will only
say the Plot and Bus’ness (not to boast on’t) is my own: as for the
Words and Characters, I leave the Reader to judge and compare ’em with
_Thomaso_, to whom I recommend the great Entertainment of reading it,
tho’ had this succeeded ill, I shou’d have had no need of imploring
that Justice from the Critics, who are naturally so kind to any that
pretend to usurp their Dominion, they wou’d doubtless have given me the
whole Honour on’t. Therefore I will only say in _English_ what the
famous _Virgil_ does in Latin: _I make Verses and others have the
Fame_.

429

Notes on the Text.

Rover I.

Dramatis Personæ

p. 9 _Diego, Page to Don Antonio._ Neither 4tos nor 1724 give the
page’s name, but it is furnished by the stage direction Act ii. I, p.
32. I have added Hellena’s page, Belvile’s page, and Blunt’s man to the
list as it appears in 4tos and 1724.

p. 9 _Angelica._ 4tos give ‘Angellica’ throughout. I have retained 1724
‘Angelica’ as more correct.

Act I: Scene i

p. 12, l. 5 _my things._ 1724 misprints ‘methinks’.

Act I: Scene ii

p. 17, l. 14 _as those which ..._ 4to 1677 prints this as a separate
line of blank verse. 4to 1709 italicizes it.

p. 23, l. 12 _She often passes ..._ 4to 1709 puts this stage direction
before Blunt’s speech.

p. 24, l. 18 _Ex. all the Women._ I have added ‘except Lucetta’ as she
is individually directed to make her exit with Blunt later and not at
this point.

Act II: Scene i

p. 32, l. 23 _Pedro. Ha!_ 1724 omits.

p. 32, l. 28 _aside._ 1724 omits.

p. 35, l. 33 _his shirt bloody._ 1724 gives ‘their shirts’ but 4tos,
more correctly, ‘his shirt’. It is only Willmore who has been wounded.

Act II: Scene ii

p. 38, l. 6 _high i’ th’ Mouth._ 1724, 1735 misprint ‘Month’.

p. 39, l. 8 _This last reserve._ 1724 omits ‘reserve’.

p. 39, l. 10 _by me._ 1724 omits the repetition of ‘by me’.

p. 39, l. 14 _cure._ 1724 misprints ‘curse’.

p. 40, l. 9 _Thou art a brave Fellow._ 1724 prints this speech as prose
but the 4tos, which I have followed, divide metrically.

Act III: Scene i

p. 44, l. 1 _Thou wou’t._ 4to 1677. 1724 wrongly reads ‘won’t’. 1735
‘Thou’lt’.

p. 45, l. 8 _ago._ 4to 1677. 1724 misprints ‘go’.

p. 47, l. 26 _starts._ 4tos read ‘stares’ but I retain 1724 ‘starts’ as
more appropriate.

p. 47, l. 31 _Expect!_ 1724 gives this speech as prose. I follow
metrical division of 4tos.

p. 49, l. 16 _rally._ 1724 misprints ‘railly’.

p. 52, l. 5 _Exeunt._ 1724 omits this necessary stage direction.

Act III: Scene ii

p. 52, l. 31 _Exit._ 1724 misprints ‘aside’.

p. 53, l. 5 _Enter Sancho._ 4tos, but misprint after Sancho’s speech.
1724 omits, but misprints an ‘exit Sancho’, and gives ‘exit’ after
Blunt’s speech instead of ‘exeunt’.

Act III: Scene iia

p. 54, l. 9 _Pimps!_ 1724 ‘Imps’.

p. 55, l. 12 _sheer._ 4to 1677. 4to 1709 and 1724 read wrongly ‘share’.

Act IV: Scene i

p. 64, l. 4 _Ant._ 4to 1677 wrongly gives this speech to Belvile. 4to
1709 and ed. 1724 assign it correctly.

430 p. 64, l. 14 _That Opinion._ 1724 prints this speech as prose. I
follow metrical division of 4tos.

Act IV: Scene ii

p. 65, l. 4 _Aside._ 4to 1677. 1724 and 1735 omit this stage direction.

p. 65, l. 11 _Masquing Habit._ 1724, 1735, ‘Masque habit’.

p. 66, l. 2 _If you strike._ 1724, 1735 omit this line.

p. 66, l. 21 _Belv. Love Florinda!_ 4tos give this speech as prose.
1724 metrically.

p. 67, l. 35 _Fred.— ’tis he— _ 1724 and 1735 mistaking ‘Fred.’ for
speech-prefix give this line to Frederick.

p. 68, l. 1 _Belv. Vizard ..._ 1724, 1735, read ‘Vizard falls out on’s
Hand.’

p. 68, l. 13 _Nay, an you ..._ 4tos and 1724, print as prose. This
speech is obviously metrical.

p. 69, l. 17 _I am all Rage!_ 4to 1677 divides metrically. 1724 prints
as prose.

p. 71, l. 26 _unconstant._ 1724, 1735 ‘inconstant’.

p. 73, l. 23 _Aside._ 4tos omit this necessary stage direction.

p. 73, l. 24 _Now I perceive._ 1724 prints this as prose. 4tos
metrically.

p. 75, l. 12 _So, you have made ..._ 1724, 1735 prose. 4tos metrically.

p. 76, l. 16 _You are mistaken._ 1724, 1735 prose. 4tos metrically.

p. 76, l. 20 _continence._ 1724 misprints ‘continuance’.

p. 76, l. 23 _Will._ 1677 misprinting, omits this speech-prefix.

p. 77, l. 8 _has Wit._ 1724 misprints ‘Whas it’.

Act IV: Scene iii

p. 79, l. 20 _A Woman!_ 1724 omits ‘A’.

p. 80, l. 16 _the Rogue._ 1724 omits ‘the’.

Act IV: Scene iiib

p. 82, l. 14 _He starts up._ 1677 4to misprints ‘she’.

p. 84, l. 18 _dexterous._ 1724 misprints ‘dexetrous’. 1735 ‘dextrous’.

p. 86, l. 10 _Exeunt._ 1724 wrongly ‘exit’.

Act V: Scene i

p. 86, l. 12 _Blunt’s Chamber._ 4tos ‘Chamber’. 1724, 1735, ‘Room’.

p. 86, l. 13 _as at his Chamber-door._ 1724, 1735, omit ‘as’.

p. 87, l. 20 _and Belvile’s Page._ I have added this entrance which
4tos and 1724 omit, as late in the scene an exit is marked for the
page.

p. 97, l. 3 _Hah! Angelica!_ 4to 1677 mistakenly marks this speech
before the stage direction.

p. 97, l. 4 _What Devil._ 1724, 1735 ‘What the Devil’, which weakens
the whole passage.

p. 107 _Post-Script._ This is only given in the first 4to (1677).

438 Notes: Critical And Explanatory.

Rover I.

Prologue

p. 7 _Rabel’s Drops._ Monsieur Rabell, as he is sometimes termed, was a
famous empiric of the day. A description of his medicaments may be
found in ‘_Pharmacopoeia Bateana_; or, Bate’s Dispensatory. Edited by
William Salmon, London, 1700.’ Rabell’s name occurs on the title-page
of this book, and in Section VI of the Preface Rabell’s ‘Styptick
Drops’ are alluded to as having been added to the recipes found in the
original volume by G. Bate. An account of the manufacture and use of
this particular remedy appears in the same volume, Lib. I, chap. x,
under ‘Sal Stypticum Rabelli’. Salmon, who edited this pharmacopoeia,
was himself an irregular practitioner of some notoriety. He took part
in the great controversy with the doctors which raged about 1698 and
earlier. He finds a sorry place in Garth’s _Dispensary_, canto III, l.
6, wherein his works are alluded to as ‘blessed opiates’.

p. 8 _Cits in May-day Coaches._ On May-day it was the custom for all
sorts and conditions of persons and pleasure parties to visit Hyde Park
in coaches or at least on horse-back, cf. Pepys _Diary_, 1 May, 1663:
‘We all took horse, and I ... rode, with some trouble, through the
fields, and then Holborn, etc., towards Hyde Park, whither all the
world, I think, are going; ... there being people of all sorts in
coaches there, to some thousands.... By and by ... I rode home, coaches
going in great crowds to the further end of the town almost.’

Dramatis Personæ

p. 9 _Sancho, Pimp to Lucetta. Mr. John Lee._ There were at this time
two actors and two actresses of the name Lee, Leigh, who, especially in
view of the eclectic spelling of seventeenth-century proper names, need
to be carefully distinguished. John Lee, who appeared in the small rôle
of Sancho and also took the equally unimportant part of Sebastian in
_Abdelazer_ this same year, had, according to Downes, joined the Duke’s
Company about 1670. He never rose above an entirely insignificant line,
and we find him cast as Alexas in Pordage’s _Herod and Mariamne_, 1673;
Titiro in Settle’s _Pastor Fido_, 1676; Pedro in Porter’s _The French
Conjurer_, and Noddy in _The Counterfeit Bridegroom_, 1677. He was, it
is almost certain, the husband of the famous Mrs. Mary Lee. Downes’
entry runs as follows: ‘_Note_, About the year 1670, Mrs. _Aldridge_,
after Mrs. _Lee_, after Lady _Slingsby_, also Mrs. _Leigh_ Wife, Mr.
_John Lee_, Mr. _Crosby_, Mrs. _Johnson_, were entertain’d in the Dukes
House.’ There is of course some confusion here. Antony Leigh, it may be
noted, is not mentioned in the _Roscius Anglicanus_ for another three
years to come (1673), and there can be little doubt that the above
passage should read ‘also Mrs. Leigh’s [Lee’s] husband, Mr John Lee’.
If this were not so, there would be no point in Downes 439 mentioning
so minor an actor at this juncture and in such a list. Crosby and Mrs.
Johnson were both performers of great merit, in fact Downes, a page
later, has a special warm word of praise for the lady whom we find cast
as Carolina in Shadwell’s _Epsom Wells_ (1672). Crosby played such
parts as Mr. Cleverwit, Lucia’s lover, in Ravenscroft’s _Mamamouchi_
(1672), Alonzo in _Abdelazer_ (1677), Leander Fancy in _Sir Patient
Fancy_ (1678). John Lee disappears entirely after 1677, and his widow
is first billed as Lady Slingsby in 1681. For a full account of this
great tragedienne see note on _Abdelazer_, Vol. II.

Mrs. Elizabeth Leigh, Moretta in _The Rover_, Part I, who is so
persistently confused with Mrs. Mary Lee, was the wife of Antony Leigh,
the celebrated comedian. In Betterton’s comedy, _The Revenge_ (1680),
when she acted Mrs. Dashit, she is billed as Mrs. A. Lee. Her husband
died in December, 1692. Their son Michael also gave great promise on
the boards. The lad’s name occurs in the cast of Shadwell’s _The
Amorous Bigot_ (1690) as ‘young Leigh’, when he played Diego, a
servant, to his father’s Tegue o’ Divelly, the Irish friar.
Unfortunately he died at an early age, probably in the winter of 1701,
but his younger brother Francis attained considerable success. Frank
Leigh made his debut at Lincoln’s Inn’s Fields, 31 December, 1702, as
Tristram in the original production of Mrs. Centlivre’s _The Stolen
Heiress._ He died in the autumn of 1719. Mrs. Leigh was herself an
actress of no small eminence, her special line being ‘affected mothers,
aunts, and modest stale maids that had missed their market’. Says
Cibber, ‘In all these, with many others, she was extremely
entertaining’. After 10 June, 1707, when she acted Lady Sly in
Carlile’s _The Fortune Hunters_, her name is no longer to be found in
the bills, and in October, 1707, Mrs. Powell is playing her parts. Mrs.
Leigh’s repertory was very large, and amongst her roles were Lady
Woodvil in Etheredge’s _The Man of Mode_ (1676); Lady Plyant in _The
Double Dealer_ (1694); the Nurse in _Love for Love_ (1695); the Hostess
in Betterton’s revival of _Henry IV_, Part I (1699); and Lady Wishfort
in _The Way of the World_ (1700). In comedies by Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Leigh
only appears twice, Moretta, _The Rover_, Part I (1677); and Mrs.
Closet, _The City Heiress_ (1682).

In and about 1702 another Mrs. Leigh, perhaps Frank Leigh’s wife, made
a brief appearance. She was at first cast for good parts but soon sank
into obscurity. Thus on 21 October, 1702, she sustained Mrs. Plotwell
in Mrs. Centlivre’s _The Beau’s Duel_; on 28 April, 1703, Chloris in
the Hon. Charles Boyle’s insipid _As You Find It._ She may have been
the Mrs. Eli. Leigh who with other performers signed a petition to
Queen Anne in 1709. Of Mrs. Rachel Lee, who took the ‘walk-on’ part of
Judy, a waiting-woman, in Southern’s _The Maid’s Last Prayer_ (1693),
nothing is known.

p. 9 _Angelica Bianca, a famous Curtezan. Mrs. Gwin._ Anne Quin (or
Quyn, Gwin, Gwyn as the name is indifferently spelt) was a famous
actress of great personal beauty. She is constantly, but most
erroneously, confounded with Nell Gwynne, and the mistake is the more
unpardonable as both names twice occur in the same cast. When Nelly was
440 acting Florimel in Dryden’s _Secret Love_, produced February, 1667,
Mrs. Quin played Candiope. Again, in _An Evening’s Love_, June, 1668,
Nell Gwynne was Jacinta, and Mrs Quin Aurelia, a role assumed later in
the run by Mrs. Marshall. Among Mrs. Quin’s more notable parts were
Alizia (Alice Perrers) in Orrery’s _The Black Prince_, produced 19
October, 1667; 1677, Thalestris in Pordage’s _The Siege of Babylon_,
and Astrea in _The Constant Nymph_; 1678, Lady Knowell in _Sir Patient
Fancy_ and Lady Squeamish in Otway’s _Friendship in Fashion_; 1682,
Queen Elizabeth in Banks’ _The Unhappy Favourite_, and Sunamire in
Southerne’s _The Loyal Brother._ Mrs. Quin appears to have retired from
the stage towards the close of the year 1682. There exists of this
actress an extremely interesting portrait which was offered for sale at
Stevens’ Auction Rooms, 26 February, 1901, but not reaching the reserve
price, withdrawn. It is mistakenly described in the catalogue as
‘Miniature Portrait of Nell Gwynn on copper with original case and 30
cover dresses on talc...’ An illustrated article on it, entitled, ‘Nell
Gwynne’s Various Guises’, appeared in the _Lady’s Pictorial_, 23 March,
of the same year, p. 470, in the course of which the writer says:
‘Accompanying the miniature are some thirty mica covers in different
stages of preservation upon which various headdresses and costumes are
painted. The place where, in the ordinary course, the face would come
is in all cases left blank, the talc being of course transparent, when
it is laid upon the original miniature the countenance of the latter
becomes visible, and we are enabled to see Nell Gwynne [Anne Quin] as
she would appear in various characters.’ The old error has been
perpetuated here, but the _Lady’s Pictorial_ reproduced half-a-dozen of
these painted mica covers, and the costumes for the two roles of Queen
Elizabeth and Sunamire can be distinctly recognized. Doubtless an
examination of the original micas would soon yield an identification of
other characters. The miniature, it may be noted, does not in the least
resemble Nell Gwynne, so there is bare excuse here for the confusion.

Act I: Scene i

p. 11 _Siege of Pampelona._ Pampluna, the strongly fortified capital of
Navarra, has from its geographical position very frequently been a
centre of military operations. It will be remembered that it was during
a siege of Pampluna in 1521 Ignatius Loyola received the wound which
indirectly led to the founding of the Jesuits.

p. 13 _King Sancho the First._ Sancho I, ‘the Fat’, of Castile and
Leon, reigned 955-67: Sancho I of Aragon 1067-94. But the phrase is
here only in a vague general sense to denote some musty and immemorial
antiquity without any exact reference.

p. 14 _Hostel de Dieu._ The first Spanish hospital was erected at
Granada by St. Juan de Dios, founder of the Order of Hospitallers. ob.
1550.

p. 14 _Gambo._ The Gambia in W. Africa has been a British Colony since
1664, when a fort, now Fort James, was founded at the mouth of the
river.

Act I: Scene ii

p. 17 _Hogoes._ Haut-goût, a relish or savoury.

Act I: Scene ii

p. 26 _a Piece of Eight._ A piastre, a coin of varying values in
different countries. The Spanish piastre is now synonymous with a
dollar and so worth about four shillings. The old Italian piastre was
equivalent to 3_s._ 7_d._

441 Act II: Scene i

p. 30 _Balcony... each side of the Door._ With regard to the proscenium
doors and balconies of a Restoration theatre, our knowledge of these
points has been rendered much more exact since the valuable discovery
by that well-known authority in stage matters, Mr. W. J. Lawrence, of
Sir Christopher Wren’s designs for the second Theatre Royal, Drury
Lane, 1674. Beyond the proscenium on the apron there are four doors
each with its balcony above. The height of these balconies from the
stage is considerable, surprisingly so indeed in view of the fact that
characters frequently have to climb up into or descend from one of
these ‘windows’, e.g., Shadwell’s _The Miser_ (1672), Act. iv, when the
drunken bullies ‘bounce at the Doors’, we have ‘Squeeze at the Window
in his Cap, and undressed,’ who cries: ‘I must venture to escape at
this Window’; ‘he leaps down’, and yells, as he falls, ‘Death! I have
broke my Bones; oh! oh!’ whilst the scowrers run up, exclaiming:
‘Somebody leaped out of a Window’, and he is promptly seized. In
Ravenscroft’s _The London Cuckolds_ (1682), Act. v: ‘Enter Ramble above
in the Balcony’. This gallant, escaping from the house hurriedly,
decides ‘which way shall I get down? I must venture to hang by my hands
and then drop from the Balcony’. Next: ‘As Ramble is getting down
Doodle enters to look for his glove, Ramble drops upon him and beats
him down.’ This could hardly have been an easy bit of stage business,
although Smith, who acted Ramble, was an athletic, tall young fellow.

Normally no doubt only two of the doors (those nearest the proscenium
opening on opposite sides) with their balconies were in constant use by
the actors as the exigencies of the play might demand, but if required,
all four balconies, and more frequently, all four doors could be and
were employed. It is noticeable in Wren’s design that the balconies are
not stage balconies, but side boxes, a permanent part of the general
architectural scheme, and there can be no doubt that, save in
exceptional circumstances, the two outermost were occupied by
spectators. If the play did not require the use of a balcony at all,
spectators would also fill the inner side boxes. In time, indeed, two
doors and two balconies only came to be used, but for some decades at
least all four were practicable. The present passage of _The Rover_
indicates the use of three doors. The bravos hang up two little
pictures of Angelica, one at each side of the door of her house, and
presently the fair courtezan appears in her balcony above. A little
later Don Pedro and Stephano enter by one door at the opposite side,
Don Antonio and his page by the second door on the same side as Pedro.

In Etheredge’s _She Wou’d if She Cou’d_ (6 February, 1668) Act ii, 1,
Courtal and Freeman are seen following up Ariana and Gatty in the
Mulberry Garden. Presently ‘The Women go out, and go about behind the
Scenes to the other Door’, then ‘Enter the Women [at one door] and
after ’em Courtal at the lower Door, and Freeman at the upper on the
contrary side’.

Three balconies are employed in Ravenscroft’s _Mamamouchi_ (1672; 4to
1675) Act iv. We have ‘Enter Mr. Jorden, musick’ obviously in one
balcony from the ensuing dialogue. Then ‘Cleverwit, in Turk’s 442
habit, with Betty Trickmore and Lucia appear in the Balcony’ number
two. A song is sung and ‘Young Jorden and Marina in the Balcony against
’em’. Young Jorden remarks, ‘Now, dearest Marina, let us ascend to your
Father, he is by this time from his Window convinc’d of the slight is
put on you....’ ‘They retire’ and although there has been no exit
marked for Mr, Jorden, we find directly, ‘Enter Mr. Jorden and
Trickmore,’ obviously upon the stage itself, to which Mr. Jorden has
descended. It must be noted, however, that the use of more than two
balconies is very rare.

Mr. W. J. Lawrence in _The Elizabethan Playhouse and other Studies_
(First Series) aptly writes: ‘No dramatist of the time had a better
sense of the theatre than Mrs. Behn, and none made more adroit
employment of the balconies.’ He then cites the scene of Angelica, her
bravos and admirers.

p. 36 _a Patacoone._ A Spanish coin in value about 4_s._ 8_d._

Act II: Scene ii

p. 38 _a Pistole-worth._ The pistole was a gold coin worth about 16_s._

p. 42 _a shameroon._ A rare word meaning a trickster, a cozening
rascal.

Act III: Scene iia

p. 54 _bow’d Gold._ Bowed for bent is still used in the North of
England: ‘A bowed pin.’

Act III: Scene iii

p. 57 _disguis’d._ A common phrase for drunk.

Act IV: Scene ii

p. 75 _cogging._ To cog = to trick, wheedle or cajole.

Act V: Scene i

p. 99 _Tramontana._ Foreign; Italian and Spanish _tramontano_ = from
beyond the mountains.

p. 101 _upse._ Op zijn = in the fashion or manner of. _Upse Gipsy_ =
like a gipsy, cf. _The Alchemist_, iv, vi:

I do not like the dulness of your eye:
It hath a heavy cast, ’tis upsee Dutch.

p. 101 _Incle._ Linen thread or yarn which was woven into a tape once
very much in use.

Epilogue

p. 106 _Nokes, or Tony Lee._ James Nokes and Antony Leigh, the two
famous actors, were the leading low comedians of the day.

p. 107 _Play of the Novella._ _Novella_ is a good, though intricate,
comedy by Brome. 8vo, 1653, but acted 1632.

p. 107 _The famous Virgil._ There is a tale, reported by Donatus, that
Vergil once anonymously wrote up on the palace gates a distich in
praise of Augustus, which, when nobody was found to own it, was claimed
by a certain versifier Bathyllus, whom Cæsar duly rewarded, A few days
later, however, Virgil again set in the same place a quatrain each line
of which commenced ‘sic vos non vobis...’ but was unfinished, and
preceeded these by the one hexameter

Hos ego versiculos feci; tulit alter honores.

All were unable to complete the lines satisfactorily save the great
poet himself, and by this means the true author of the eulogy was
revealed.

A, B. A portion of the facing inner margins is missing:

image of facing pages 30-31

Reconstruction, page 30:

partial image of page 30

Reconstruction, page 31:

partial image of page 31

109

THE ROVER; OR,
THE BANISH’D CAVALIERS.
PART II.

110

Scenes described in (parentheses) are unnumbered.

Argument.

Source.

Theatrical History.
Dedication
Prologue
Dramatis Personæ.
Act I.
Scene I. _A Street._

(_A Church._)
Act II.
Scene I. _The Street._
Scene II. _A fine Chamber._

Act III.
Scene I. _A House._
Act IV.

Scene I. _The Street, or Backside of the Piazza._

(_A Garden._)

(_La Nuche’s House._)

(_Fetherfool’s Chamber._)

(_The Street._)
Act V.
Scene I. _A Chamber._
Scene II. _The Street._
Scene III. _Willmore’s Lodging._

(_A Chamber._)
Epilogue.

Notes to _The Rover, Part II_

111
ARGUMENT.

The exiled cavaliers, Willmore the Rover, Shift and Hunt, two officers,
Ned Blunt and Fetherfool, his friend, have arrived at Madrid, where
they are welcomed by Beaumond, nephew to the English Ambassador. Both
Willmore and Beaumond are enamoured of La Nuche, a beautiful courtezan,
whilst Shift and Hunt are respectively courting a Giantess and a Dwarf,
two Mexican Jewesses of immense wealth, newly come to Madrid with an
old Hebrew, their uncle and guardian. Beaumond is contracted to
Ariadne, who loves Willmore. Whilst the Rover is complimenting La
Nuche, some Spaniards, headed by Don Carlo, an aged admirer of the
lady, attempt to separate the pair. During the scuffle the ladies enter
a church, where they are followed by the gallants. A little later
Fetherfool comes to terms with La Nuche’s duenna, Petronella, whilst
Willmore makes love to Ariadne. Shift next informs Willmore of the
arrival of a celebrated mountebank, and the Rover resolves to take the
quack’s place, which he does in effective disguise. Fetherfool and
Blunt visit the pseudo-doctor’s house, where the Giantess and Dwarf are
lodged to be converted to a reasonable size by his medicaments;
covetous of their great fortunes, the coxcombs also begin to court the
two Jewesses. La Nuche comes to consult the mountebank and meets
Ariadne attired as a boy, and Willmore in his own dress. Ariadne, who
has a rendezvous that evening with Willmore, is accidentally
anticipated by La Nuche, who runs into the garden during a night brawl
between Beaumond and the Rover, each of whom is ignorant of his
opponent’s personality. Both the combatants encounter the courtezan in
the garden and are joined by Ariadne. The confusion and mistakes that
ensue are augmented by the arrival of Beaumond’s page and eventually
all disperse in different directions. La Nuche returns to her house,
where Fetherfool—led on by the Duenna—awaits her. Carlo, however, come
thither for the same purpose, enters the chambers, and after they have
fallen to fisticuffs, Fetherfool in a fright escapes through a window.
Meanwhile La Nuche is engaged with Willmore; Beaumond interrupts, and
both leave her in pretended disdain. Ariadne, purposing to meet the
Rover, mistakes Beaumond for him in the dark and they hurry away to the
quack’s house. Here, however, Fetherfool has already arrived and,
finding the Giantess asleep, robs her of a pearl necklace; but he is
alarmed by Shift, who takes her off and promptly weds her, whilst Hunt
does the same by the Dwarf. Blunt next appears leading Petronella,
veiled, who, filching a casket of jewels, has just fled from La Nuche;
but the hag is discovered and compelled to disgorge. The Jewish
Guardian is reconciled to the marriages of his wards; Beaumond and
Ariadne, Willmore and La Nuche arrive, and the various mistakes with
regard to identity are rectified, Willmore incidentally revealing
himself as the sham mountebank. Beaumond and Ariadne agree to marry,
whilst La Nuche gives herself to the Rover.

112
SOURCE.

Induced by the extraordinary success of _The Rover_ in 1677, Mrs. Behn,
four years later, turned again to Killigrew’s _Thomaso; or, The
Wanderer_, and produced a sequel to her play. She had, however, already
made good use of the best points of the old comedy, and the remaining
material only being that which her judgment first rejected, it is not a
matter of surprise to find the second part of _The Rover_ somewhat
inferior to the first. This is by no means to say that it is not an
amusing comedy full of bustle and humour. The intrigue of Willmore and
La Nuche, together with the jocantries of the inimitable Blunt, Nick
Fetherfool, and the antique Petronella Elenora, are all alive with the
genius of Astrea, although it may be possibly objected that some of the
episodes with the two Monsters and the pranks of Harlequin are apt to
trench a little too nearly on the realm of farce.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

_The Second Part of The Rover_ was produced at the Duke’s Theatre,
Dorset Gardens, in 1681. It is noticeable that Will Smith had so
distinguished himself in Willmore, that Betterton, who appeared as
Belvile in the first part, did not essay a character in the second. The
cast was reinforced, however, by Mrs. Barry, who took the role of La
Nuche.

The play was received with great applause; it suffered none the less
the fate of most sequels and, being overshadowed by its predecessor,
after a few decades disappeared from the boards.

113
TO HIS
ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE
DUKE, &c.

Great Sir,

I dread to appear in this Humble Dedication to Your Royal Highness, as
one of those Insolent and Saucy Offenders who take occasion by Your
absence to commit ill-mannered indecencies, unpardonable to a Prince of
your Illustrious Birth and God-like Goodness, but that in spight of
Seditious Scandal You can forgive; and all the World knows You can
suffer with a Divine Patience: the proofs You have early and late given
of this, have been such, as if Heaven design’d ’em only to give the
World an undeniable Testimony of Your Noble Vertues, Your Loyalty and
True Obedience (if I may presume to say so,) both to Your Sacred
Brother, and the never satisfied People, when either one Commanded, or
t’other repin’d, With how chearful and intire a submission You Obey’d?
And tho the Royal Son of a Glorious Father who was render’d unfortunate
by the unexemplary ingratitude of his worst of Subjects; and sacrific’d
to the insatiate and cruel Villany of a seeming sanctifi’d Faction, who
cou’d never hope to expiate for the unparallell’d sin, but by an intire
submission to the Gracious Off-spring of this Royal Martyr: yet You,
Great Sir, denying Yourself the Rights and Priviledges the meanest
Subject Claims, with a Fortitude worthy Your Adorable Vertues, put
Yourself upon a voluntary Exile to appease the causeless murmurs of
this again gathering Faction, who make their needless and self-created
fears, an occasion to Play the old Game o’re again; whil’st the
Politick self-interested and malitious few betray the unconsidering
Rest, with the delicious sounds of Liberty and Publick Good; that lucky
Cant which so few years since so miserably reduc’d all the Noble, Brave
and Honest, to the Obedience of the ill-gotten Power, and worse-acted
Greatness of the Rabble; so that whil’st they most unjustly cry’d down
the oppression of one of the best of Monarchs, and all Kingly
Government: all England found itself deplorably inslav’d by the
Arbitrary Tyranny of many Pageant Kings. Oh that we shou’d so far
forget with what greatness of mind You then shar’d the common Fate, as
now and again to force Your Royal Person to new Perils, and new Exiles;
but such ingratitude we are punisht with, and You still suffer for, and
still forgive it.

This more than Human Goodness, with the incouragement Your Royal
Highness was pleas’d to give the Rover at his first appearance, and the
concern You were pleas’d to have for his second, makes me presume to
lay him at Your feet; he is a wanderer too, distrest; belov’d, the
unfortunate, 114 and ever conscent to Loyalty; were he Legions he
should follow and suffer still with so Excellent a Prince and Master.
Your Infant worth he knew, and all Your growing Glories; has seen you
like young Cesar in the Field, when yet a Youth, exchanging Death for
Laurels, and wondred at a Bravery so early, which still made double
Conquest, not only by Your Sword, but by Your Vertues,
Some of Oliver’s Commanders at Dunkirk which taught even Your Enemies
so intire an Obedience, that asham’d of their Rebel Gallantry, they
have resign’d their guilty Commissions, and Vow’d never to Draw Sword
more but in the Royal Cause; which Vow Religiously they kept: a noble
Example for the busie and hot Mutineers of this Age misled by Youth,
false Ambition and falser Council.

How careless since Your Glorious Restauration You have been, of Your
Life for the service of Your mistaken Country, the whole World knows,
and all brave men admire.

Pardon me then, Great Sir, if I presume to present my faithful Soldier,
(which no Storms of Fate can ever draw from his Obedience) to so great
a General: allow him, Royal Sir, a shelter and protection, who was
driven from his Native Country with You, forc’d as You were, to fight
for his Bread in a Strange Land, and suffer’d with You all the Ills of
Poverty, War and Banishment; and still pursues Your Fortunes; and
though he cannot serve Your Highness, he may possibly have the Honour
of diverting You a few moments: which tho Your Highness cannot want in
a place where all Hearts and Knees are justly bow’d in Adoration, where
all conspire, as all the Earth (who have the blessing of Your presence)
ought to entertain, serve and please You; yet this humble Tribute of a
most Zealous and Devout Heart, may find amongst Your busier hours of
greater moment, some one wherein it may have the Glory of Your regard,
and be capable in some small degree of unbending Your great mind from
Royal Cares, the weightiest Cares of all; which if it be so fortunate
as to do, I have my end, and the Glory I design, a sufficient reward
for her who does and will eternally pray for the Life, Health and
Safety of Your Royal Highness, as in Duty all the World is bound to do,
but more especially,

Illustrious Sir,

Your Highnesses most Humble,

most Faithful, and

most Obedient Servant,

A. BEHN.

115

THE ROVER.

PART II.

PROLOGUE,
Spoken by Mr. _Smith_.

IN vain we labour to reform the Stage,
Poets have caught too the Disease o’th’ Age,
That Pest, _of not being quiet when they’re well_,
That restless Fever, in the Brethren, _Zeal_;
In publick Spirits call’d, _Good o’ th’ Commonweal_.
Some for this Faction cry, others for that,
The pious Mobile fir they know not what:
So tho by different ways the Fever seize,
In all ’tis one and the same mad Disease.
Our Author too, as all new Zealots do,
Full of Conceit and Contradiction too,
’Cause the first Project took, is now so vain,
T’attempt to play the old Game o’er again:
The Scene is only changed; for who wou’d lay
A Plot, so hopeful, just the same dull way?
Poets, like Statesmen, with a little change,
Pass off old Politicks for new and strange;
Tho the few Men of Sense decry’t aloud,
The Cheat will pass with the unthinking Croud:
The Rabble ’tis we court, those powerful things,
Whose Voices can impose even Laws on Kings.
A Pox of Sense and Reason, or dull Rules,
Give us an Audience that declares for Fools;
Our Play will stand fair: we’ve Monsters too,
Which far exceed your City Pope for Show.

116

Almighty Rabble,’tis to you this Day
Our humble Author dedicates the Play,
From those who in our lofty Tire sit,
Down to the dull Stage-Cullies of the Pit,
Who have much Money, and but little Wit:
Whose useful Purses, and whose empty Skulls
To private Int’rest make ye Publick Tools;
To work on Projects which the wiser frame,
And of fine Men of Business get the Name.
You who have left caballing here of late,
Imploy’d in matters of a mightier weight;
To you we make our humble Application,
You’d spare some time from your dear new Vocation,
Of drinking deep, then settling the Nation,
To countenance us, whom Commonwealths of old
Did the most politick Diversion hold.
Plays were so useful thought to Government,
That Laws were made for their Establishment;
Howe’er in Schools differing Opinions jar,
Yet all agree i’ th’ crouded Theatre,
Which none forsook in any Change or War.
That, like their Gods, unviolated stood,
Equally needful to the publick Good.
Throw then, Great Sirs, some vacant hours away,
And your Petitioners shall humbly pray. &c.

117

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.
_Willmore_, The Rover, in love with _La Nuche_, Mr. _Smith_.
_Beaumond_, the _English_ Ambassador’s Nephew, in love with _La Nuche_,
contracted to _Ariadne_, Mr. _Williams_. _Ned Blunt_, an _English_
Country Gentleman, Mr. _Underhill_. _Nicholas Fetherfool_, an English
Squire, his Friend, Mr. _Nokes_. _Shift_, an English Lieutenant,
Friends and Officers to _Willmore_, Mr. _Wiltshire_. _Hunt_, an Ensign
Mr. _Richards_. _Harlequin_, _Willmore’s_ Man. _Abevile_, Page to
_Beaumond_. Don _Carlo_ an old Grandee, in love with _La Nuche_, Mr.
_Norris_. _Sancho_, Bravo to _La Nuche_ An old _Jew_, Guardian to the
two Monsters, Mr. _Freeman_. _Porter_ at the English Ambassador’s.
_Rag_, Boy to Willmore. Scaramouche. WOMEN. _Ariadne_, the English
Ambassador’s Daughter-in-law, in love with _Willmore_, Mrs. _Corror_.
_Lucia_, her Kinswoman, a Girl, Mrs. _Norris_. _La Nuche_, a _Spanish_
Curtezan, in love with the _Rover_, Mrs. _Barry_. _Petronella Elenora_,
her Baud, Mrs. _Norris_. _Aurelia_, her Woman, Mrs. _Crofts_. A Woman
Giant. A Dwarf, her Sister.
Footmen, Servants, Musicians, Operators and Spectators.

SCENE, _Madrid_.

118

ACT I.

Scene I. A Street.

Enter _Willmore_, _Blunt_, _Fetherfool_, and _Hunt_, two more in
Campain Dresses, _Rag_ the Captain’s Boy.

Will. Stay, this is the _English_ Ambassador’s. I’ll inquire if
_Beaumond_ be return’d from _Paris_.

Feth. Prithee, dear Captain, no more Delays, unless thou thinkest he
will invite us to Dinner; for this fine thin sharp Air of _Madrid_ has
a most notable Faculty of provoking an Appetite: Prithee let’s to the
Ordinary.

Will. I will not stay— [Knocks, enter a Porter.
—Friend, is the Ambassador’s Nephew, Mr. _Beaumond_, return’d to
_Madrid_ yet? If he be, I would speak with him.

Port. I’ll let him know so much. [Goes in, shuts the door.

Blunt. Why, how now, what’s the Door shut upon us?

Feth. And reason, _Ned_, ’tis Dinner-time in the Ambassador’s Kitchen,
and should they let the savoury Steam out, what a world of _Castilians_
would there be at the Door feeding upon’t.—Oh there’s no living in
_Spain_ when the Pot’s uncover’d.

Blunt. Nay, ’tis a Nation of the finest clean Teeth—

Feth. Teeth! Gad an they use their Swords no oftner, a Scabbard will
last an Age.

Enter _Shift_ from the House.

Will. Honest Lieutenant—

Shift. My noble Captain—Welcome to Madrid. What Mr. _Blunt_, and my
honoured Friend _Nicholas Fetherfool_ Esq.

Feth. Thy Hand, honest _Shift_— [They embrace him.

Will. And how, Lieutenant, how stand Affairs in this unsanctify’d
Town?—How does Love’s great Artillery, the 119 fair La Nuche, from
whose bright Eyes the little wanton God throws Darts to wound Mankind?

Shift. Faith, she carries all before her still; undoes her
Fellow-traders in Love’s Art: and amongst the Number, old _Carlo de
Minalta Segosa_ pays high for two Nights in a Week.

Will. Hah—Carlo! Death, what a greeting’s here! Carlo, the happy Man! a
Dog! a Rascal, gain the bright La Nuche! Oh Fortune! Cursed blind
mistaken Fortune! eternal Friend to Fools! Fortune! that takes the
noble Rate from Man, to place it on her Idol Interest.

Shift. Why Faith, Captain, I should think her Heart might stand as fair
for you as any, could you be less satirical—but by this Light, Captain,
you return her Raillery a little too roughly.

Will. Her Raillery! By this Hand I had rather be handsomly abus’d than
dully flatter’d; but when she touches on my Poverty, my honourable
Poverty, she presses me too sensibly—for nothing is so nice as
Poverty—But damn her, I’ll think of her no more: for she’s a Devil, tho
her Form be Angel. Is Beaumond come from Paris yet?

Shift. He is, I came with him; he’s impatient of your Return: I’ll let
him know you’re here. [Exit. _Shift_.

Feth. Why, what a Pox ails the Captain o’th’ sudden? He looks as
sullenly as a routed General, or a Lover after hard Service.

Blunt. Oh—something the Lieutenant has told him about a Wench; and when
_Cupid’s_ in his Breeches, the Devil’s ever in’s Head—how now—What a
pox is the matter with you, you look so scurvily now?—What, is the
Gentlewoman otherwise provided? has she cashier’d ye for want of Pay?
or what other dire Mischance?—hah—

Will. Do not trouble me—

Blunt. Adsheartlikins, but I will, and beat thee too, but I’ll know the
Cause. I heard _Shift_ tell thee something about _La Nuche_, a Damsel I
have often heard thee Fool enough to sigh for.

120
Will. Confound the mercenary Jilt!

Blunt. Nay, adsheartlikins they are all so; tho I thought you had been
Whore-proof; ’tis enough for us Fools, Country Gentlemen, Esquires, and
Cullies, to miscarry in their amorous Adventures, you Men of Wit
weather all Storms you.

Will. Oh, Sir, you’re become a new Man, wise and wary, and can no more
be cozen’d.

Blunt. Not by Woman-kind; and for Man I think my Sword will secure me.
Pox, I thought a two Months absence and a Siege would have put such
Trifles out of thy Head: You do not use to be such a Miracle of
Constancy.

Will. That Absence makes me think of her so much; and all the Passions
thou find’st about me are to the Sex alone. Give me a Woman, Ned, a
fine young amorous Wanton, who would allay this Fire that makes me rave
thus, and thou shouldst find me no longer particular, but cold as
Winter-Nights to this La Nuche: Yet since I lost my little charming
Gipsey, nothing has gone so near my Heart as this.

Blunt. Ay, there was a Girl, the only she thing that could reconcile me
to the Petticoats again after my Naples Adventure, when the Quean rob’d
and stript me.

Will. Oh name not Hellena! She was a Saint to be ador’d on Holy-days.

Enter _Beaumond_.

Beau. Willmore! my careless wild inconstant—how is’t, my lucky Rover?
[embracing.

Will. My Life! my Soul! how glad am I to find thee in my Arms again—and
well—When left you _Paris?_ _Paris_, that City of Pottage and
Crab-Wine, swarming with Lacquies and Philies, whose Government is
carried on by most Hands, not most Voices—And prithee how does
_Belvile_ and his Lady?

Beau. I left ’em both in Health at St. _Germains._

121
Will. Faith, I have wisht my self with ye at the old Temple of Bacchus
at _St. Clou_, to sacrifice a Bottle and a Damsel to his Deity.

Beau. My constant Place of Worship whilst there, tho for want of new
Saints my Zeal grew something cold, which I was ever fain to supply
with a Bottle, the old Remedy when _Phyllis_ is sullen and absent.

Will. Now thou talk’st of Phillis prithee, dear _Harry_, what Women
hast in store?

Beau. I’ll tell thee; but first inform me whom these two Sparks are.

Will. Egad, and so they are, Child: Salute ’em—They are my Friends—True
Blades, _Hal._ highly guilty of the royal Crime, poor and brave, loyal
Fugitives.

Beau. I love and honour ’em, Sir, as such [Bowing to _Blunt_.

Blunt. Sir, there’s neither Love nor Honour lost.

Feth. Sir, I scorn to be behind-hand in Civilities.

Beau. At first sight I find I am much yours, Sir. [To _Feth._

Feth. Sir, I love and honour any Man that’s a Friend to Captain
_Willmore_—and therefore I am yours—

Enter _Shift_.

—Well, honest Lieutenant, how does thy Body?—When shall _Ned_, and thou
and I, crack a Bisket o’er a Glass of Wine, have a Slice of Treason and
settle the Nation, hah?

Shift. You know, Squire, I am devotedly yours. [They talk aside.

Beau. Prithee who are these?

Will. Why, the first you saluted is the same _Ned Blunt_ you have often
heard _Belvile_ and I speak of: the other is a Rarity of another
Nature, one Squire _Fetherfool_ of _Croydon_, a tame Justice of Peace,
who liv’d as innocently as Ale and Food could keep him, till for a
mistaken Kindness to one of the Royal Party, he lost his Commission,
and got the 122 Reputation of a Sufferer: He’s rich, but covetous as an
Alderman.

Beau. What a Pox do’st keep ’em Company for, who have neither Wit
enough to divert thee, nor Good-nature enough to serve thee?

Will. Faith, _Harry_, ’tis true, and if there were no more Charity than
Profit in’t, a Man would sooner keep a Cough o’th’ Lungs than be
troubled with ’em: but the Rascals have a blind side as all conceited
Coxcombs have, which when I’ve nothing else to do, I shall expose to
advance our Mirth; the Rogues must be cozen’d, because they’re so
positive they never can be so: but I am now for softer Joys, for Woman,
for Woman in abundance—dear _Hal_. inform me where I may safely unlade
my Heart.

Beau. The same Man still, wild and wanton!

Will. And would not change to be the Catholick King.

Beau. I perceive Marriage has not tam’d you, nor a Wife who had all the
Charms of her Sex.

Will. Ay—she was too good for Mortals. [With a sham Sadness.

Belv. I think thou hadst her but a Month, prithee how dy’d she?

Will. Faith, e’en with a fit of Kindness, poor Soul—she would to Sea
with me, and in a Storm—far from Land, she gave up the Ghost—’twas a
Loss, but I must bear it with a Christian Fortitude.

Beau. Short Happinesses vanish like to Dreams.

Will. Ay faith, and nothing remains with me but the sad Remembrance—not
so much as the least Part of her hundred thousand Crowns; _Brussels_
that inchanted Court has eas’d me of that Grief, where our Heroes act
_Tantalus_ better than ever _Ovid_ describ’d him, condemn’d daily to
see an Apparition of Meat, Food in Vision only. Faith, I had Bowels,
was good-natur’d, and lent upon the publick Faith as far as ’twill
go—But come, let’s leave this mortifying Discourse, and tell me how the
price of Pleasure goes.

123
Beau. At the old Rates still; he that gives most is happiest, some few
there are for Love!

Will. Ah, one of the last, dear _Beaumond_; and if a Heart or Sword can
purchase her, I’ll bid as fair as the best. Damn it, I hate a Whore
that asks me Mony.

Beau. Yet I have known thee venture all thy Stock for a new Woman.

Will. Ay, such a Fool I was in my dull Days of Constancy, but I am now
for Change, (and should I pay as often,’twould undo me)—for Change, my
Dear, of Place, Clothes, Wine, and Women. Variety is the Soul of
Pleasure, a Good unknown; and we want Faith to find it.

Beau. Thou wouldst renounce that fond Opinion, _Willmore_, didst thou
see a Beauty here in Town, whose Charms have Power to fix inconstant
Nature or Fortune were she tottering on her Wheel.

Will. Her Name, my Dear, her Name?

Beau. I would not breathe it even in my Complaints, lest amorous Winds
should bear it o’er the World, and make Mankind her Slaves;

But that it is a Name too cheaply known,
And she that owns it may be as cheaply purchas’d.

Will. Hah! cheaply purchas’d too! I languish for her.

Beau. Ay, there’s the Devil on’t, she is—a Whore.

Will. Ah, what a charming Sound that mighty Word bears!

Beau. Damn her, she’ll be thine or any body’s.

Will. I die for her—

Beau. Then for her Qualities—

Will. No more—ye Gods, I ask no more, Be she but fair and much a
Whore—Come let’s to her.

Beau. Perhaps to morrow you may see this Woman.

Will. Death,’tis an Age.

Feth. Oh, Captain, the strangest News, Captain.

Will. Prithee what?

Feth. Why, Lieutenant _Shift_ here tells us of two 124 Monsters arriv’d
from _Mexico_, Jews of vast Fortunes, with an old Jew Uncle their
Guardian; they are worth a hundred thousand Pounds a piece—Marcy
upon’s, why,’tis a Sum able to purchase all _Flanders_ again from his
most christian Majesty.

Will. Ha, ha, ha, Monsters!

Beau. He tells you Truth, _Willmore_.

Blunt. But hark ye, Lieutenant, are you sure they are not married?

Beau. Who the Devil would venture on such formidable Ladies?

Feth. How, venture on ’em! by the Lord _Harry_, and that would I, tho
I’m a Justice of the Peace, and they be Jews, (which to a Christian is
a thousand Reasons.)

Blunt. Is the Devil in you to declare our Designs? [Aside.

Feth. Mum, as close as a Jesuit.

Beau. I admire your Courage, Sir, but one of them is so little, and so
deform’d,’tis thought she is not capable of Marriage; and the other is
so huge an overgrown Giant, no Man dares venture on her.

Will. Prithee let’s go see ’em; what do they pay for going in?

Feth. Pay—I’d have you to know they are Monsters of Quality.

Shift. And not to be seen but by particular Favour of their Guardian,
whom I am got acquainted with, from the Friendship I have with the
Merchant where they lay. The Giant, Sir, is in love with me, the Dwarf
with Ensign _Hunt_, and as we manage Matters we may prove lucky.

Beau. And didst thou see the Show? the Elephant and the Mouse.

Shift. Yes, and pleased them wondrously with News I brought ’em of a
famous Mountebank who is coming to _Madrid_, here are his Bills—who
amongst other his marvellous Cures, pretends to restore Mistakes in
Nature, to new-mould a Face and Body tho never so misshapen, to 125
exact Proportion and Beauty. This News has made me gracious to the
Ladies, and I am to bring ’em word of the Arrival of this famous
Empirick, and to negotiate the Business of their Reformation.

Will. And do they think to be restor’d to moderate sizes?

Shift. Much pleas’d with the Hope, and are resolv’d to try at any Rate.

Feth. Mum, Lieutenant—not too much of their Transformation; we shall
have the Captain put in for a Share, and the Devil would not have him
his Rival: _Ned_ and I are resolv’d to venture a Castfor ’em as they
are—Hah, _Ned_. [_Will._ and _Beau._ read the Bill.

Blunt. Yes, if there were any Hopes of your keeping a Secret.

Feth. Nay, nay, _Ned_, the World knows I am a plaguy Fellow at your
Secrets; that, and my Share of the Charge shall be my Part, for _Shift_
says the Guardian must be brib’d for Consent: Now the other Moiety of
the Mony and the Speeches shall be thy part, for thou hast a pretty
Knack that way. Now _Shift_ shall bring Matters neatly about, and we’ll
pay him by the Day, or in gross, when we are married—hah, _Shift_.

Shift. Sir, I shall be reasonable.

Will. I am sure _Fetherfool_ and _Blunt_ have some wise Design upon
these two Monsters—it must be so—and this Bill has put an extravagant
Thought into my Head—hark ye, _Shift_. [Whispers to him.

Blunt. The Devil’s in’t if this will not redeem my Reputation with the
Captain, and give him to understand that all the Wit does not lie in
the Family of the _Willmores_, but that this Noddle of mine can be
fruitful too upon Occasion.

Feth. Ay, and Lord, how we’ll domineer, _Ned_, hah—over _Willmore_ and
the rest of the Renegade Officers, when we have married these Lady
Monsters, hah, _Ned_.

Blunt. —Then to return back to _Essex_ worth a Million.

Feth. And I to _Croyden_—

126
Blunt. —Lolling in Coach and Six—

Feth. —Be dub’d Right Worshipful—

Blunt. And stand for Knight of the Shire.

Will. Enough—I must have my Share of this Jest, and for divers and
sundry Reasons thereunto belonging, must be this very Mountebank
expected.

Shift. Faith, Sir, and that were no hard matter, for a day or two the
Town will believe it, the same they look for: and the Bank, Operators
and Musick are all ready.

Will. Well enough, add but a _Harlequin_ and _Scaramouch_, and I shall
mount in querpo.

Shift. Take no care for that, Sir, your Man, and Ensign _Hunt_, are
excellent at those two; I saw ’em act ’em the other day to a Wonder,
they’ll be glad of the Employment, my self will be an Operator.

Will. No more, get ’em ready, and give it out, the Man of Art’s
arriv’d: Be diligent and secret, for these two politick Asses must be
cozen’d.

Shift. I will about the Business instantly. [Ex. _Shift_.

Beau. This Fellow will do Feats if he keeps his Word.

Will. I’ll give you mine he shall—But, dear _Beaumond_, where shall we
meet anon?

Beau. I thank ye for that—’Gad, ye shall dine with me.

Feth. A good Motion—

Will. I beg your Pardon now, dear _Beaumond_—I having lately nothing
else to do, took a Command of Horse from the General at the last Siege,
from which I am just arriv’d, and my Baggage is behind, which I must
take order for.

Feth. Pox on’t now there’s a Dinner lost,’twas ever an unlucky Rascal.

Beau. To tempt thee more, thou shalt see my Wife that is to be.

Will. Pox on’t, I am the leudest Company in Christendom with your
honest Women—but—What, art thou to be noos’d then?

Beau. ’Tis so design’d by my Uncle, if an old Grandee 127 my Rival
prevent it not; the Wench is very pretty, young, and rich, and lives in
the same House with me, for ’tis my Aunt’s Daughter.

Will. Much good may it d’ye, _Harry_, I pity you, but ’tis the common
Grievance of you happy Men of Fortune. [Goes towards the House-door
with _Beau._

Enter _La Nuche_, _Aurelia_, _Petronella_, _Sancho_, Women veil’d a
little.

Aur. Heavens, Madam, is not that the _English_ Captain? [Looking on
_Will._

La Nu. ’Tis, and with him Don _Henrick_ the Ambassador’s Nephew—how my
Heart pants and heaves at sight of him! some Fire of the old Flames
remaining, which I must strive to extinguish. For I’ll not bate a Ducat
of this Price I’ve set upon my self, for all the Pleasures Youth or
Love can bring me—for see _Aurelia_—the sad Memento of a decay’d poor
old forsaken Whore in _Petronella_; consider her, and then commend my
Prudence.

Will. Hah, Women!—

Feth. Egad, and fine ones too, I’ll tell you that.

Will. No matter, Kindness is better Sauce to Woman than Beauty! By this
Hand she looks at me—Why dost hold me? [_Feth._ holds him.

Feth. Why, what a Devil, art mad?

Will. Raging, as vigorous Youth kept long from Beauty; wild for the
charming Sex, eager for Woman, I long to give a Loose to Love and
Pleasure.

Blunt. These are not Women, Sir, for you to ruffle—

Will. Have a care of your Persons of Quality, _Ned_. [Goes to _La
Nuche_.
—Those lovely Eyes were never made to throw their Darts in vain.

La Nu. The Conquest would be hardly worth the Pain.

Will. Hah, _La Nuche!_ with what a proud Disdain she flung away—stay, I
will not part so with you— [Holds her.

128

Enter _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_ with Footmen.

Aria. Who are these before us, _Lucia?_

Luc. I know not, Madam; but if you make not haste home, you’ll be
troubled with _Carlo_ your importunate Lover, who is just behind us.

Aria. Hang me, a lovely Man! what Lady’s that? stay.

Pet. What Insolence is this! This Villain will spoil all—

Feth. Why, Captain, are you quite distracted?—dost know where thou art?
Prithee be civil—

Will. Go, proud and cruel! [Turns her from him.

Enter _Carlo_, and two or three _Spanish_ Servants following:
_Petronella_ goes to him.

Car. Hah, affronted by a drunken Islander, a saucy Tramontane!—Draw—
[To his Servants whilst he takes _La Nuche_.
whilst I lead her off—fear not, Lady, you have the Honour of my Sword
to guard ye.

Will. Hah, _Carlo_—ye lye—it cannot guard the boasting Fool that wears
it—be gone—and look not back upon this Woman. [Snatches her from him]
One single Glance destroys thee—

[They draw and fight; _Carlo_ getting hindmost of his _Spaniards_, the
_English_ beat ’em off: The Ladies run away, all but _Ariadne_ and
_Lucia_.

Luc. Heav’ns, Madam, why do ye stay?

Aria. To pray for that dear Stranger—And see, my Prayers are heard, and
he’s return’d in safety—this Door shall shelter me to o’er-hear the
Quarrel. [Steps aside.

Enter _Will._ _Blunt_, _Feth._ looking big, and putting up his Sword.

Feth. The noble Captain be affronted by a starch’d Ruff and Beard, a
Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of Garlick, a pickl’d Pilchard! abuse
the noble Captain, and bear it off in State, like a Christmas
Sweet-heart; these things must not be whilst _Nicholas Fetherfool_
wears a Sword.

129 Blunt. Pox o’ these Women, I thought no good would come on’t:
besides, where’s the Jest in affronting honest Women, if there be such
a thing in the Nation?

Feth. Hang’t,’twas the Devil and all—

Will. Ha, ha, ha! Why, good honest homespun Country Gentlemen, who do
you think those were?

Feth. Were! why, Ladies of Quality going to their Devotion; who should
they be?

Blunt. Why, faith, and so I thought too.

Will. Why, that very one Woman I spoke to is ten Whores in _Surrey_.

Feth. Prithee speak softly, Man: ’Slife, we shall be poniarded for
keeping thee company.

Will. Wise Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if I do not prove ’em
Whores, whip me.

Feth. Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue, as if I did not
know Whores from Persons of Quality.

Will. Will you believe me when you lie with her? for thou’rt a rich
Ass, and may’st do it.

Feth. Whores—ha, ha—

Will. ’Tis strange Logick now, because your Band is better that mine, I
must not know a Whore better than you.

Blunt. If this be a Whore, as thou say’st, I understand nothing—by this
Light such a Wench would pass for a Person of Quality in _London_.

Feth. Few Ladies have I seen at a Sheriff’s Feast have better Faces, or
worn so good Clothes; and by the Lord _Harry_, if these be of the
gentle Craft, I’d not give a Real for an honest Women for my use.

Will. Come follow me into the Church, for thither I am sure they’re
gone: And I will let you see what a wretched thing you had been had you
lived seven Years longer in _Surrey_, stew’d in Ale and Beef-broth.

Feth. O dear _Willmore_, name not those savory things, there’s no
jesting with my Stomach; it sleeps now, but if it wakes, wo be to your
Shares at the Ordinary.

130
Blunt. I’ll say that for _Fetherfool_, if his Heart were but half so
good as his Stomach, he were a brave Fellow. [Aside, Exeunt.

Aria. I am resolv’d to follow—and learn, if possible, who ’tis has made
this sudden Conquest o’er me. [All go off.

[Scene draws, and discovers a Church, a great many People at Devotion,
soft Musick playing. Enter _La Nuche_, _Aurelia_, _Petron._ and
_Sancho_: To them _Willmore_, _Feth._ _Blunt_; then _Ariadne_, _Lucia_;
_Feth._ bows to _La Nuche_ and _Petronella_.

Feth. Now as I hope to be sav’d, _Blunt_, she’s a most melodious Lady.
Would I were worthy to purchase a Sin or so with her. Would not such a
Beauty reconcile thy Quarrel to the Sex?

Blunt. No, were she an Angel in that Shape.

Feth. Why, what a pox couldst not lie with her if she’d let thee? By
the Lord _Harry_, as errant a Dog as I am, I’d fain see any of
_Cupid’s_ Cook-maids put me out of countenance with such a Shoulder of
Mutton.

Aria. See how he gazes on her—_Lucia_, go nearer, and o’er-hear ’em.
[_Lucia_ listens.

Will. Death, how the charming Hypocrite looks to day, with such a soft
Devotion in her Eyes, as if even now she were praising Heav’n for all
the Advantages it has blest her with.

Blunt. Look how _Willmore_ eyes her, the Rogue’s smitten heart
deep—Whores—

Feth. Only a Trick to keep her to himself—he thought the Name of a
_Spanish_ Harlot would fright us from attempting—I must divert him—how
is’t, Captain—Prithee mind this Musick—Is it not most Seraphical?

Will. Pox, let the Fidlers mind and tune their Pipes, I’ve higher
Pleasures now.

Feth. Oh, have ye so; what, with Whores, Captain?—’Tis a most delicious
Gentlewoman. [Aside.

131 Pet. Pray, Madam, mind that Cavalier, who takes such pains to
recommend himself to you.

La Nu. Yes, for a fine conceited Fool—

Pet. Catso, a Fool, what else?

La Nu. Right, they are our noblest Chapmen; a Fool, and a rich Fool,
and an _English_ rich Fool—

Feth. ’Sbud, she eyes me, _Ned_, I’ll set my self in order, it may
take—hah— [Sets himself.

Pet. Let me alone to manage him, I’ll to him—

La Nu. Or to the Devil, so I had one Minute’s time to speak to
_Willmore_.

Pet. And accosting him thus—tell him—

La Nu. [_in a hasty Tone._] —I am desperately in love with him, and am
Daughter, Wife, or Mistress to some Grandee—bemoan the Condition of
Women of Quality in _Spain_, who by too much Constraint are oblig’d to
speak first—but were we blest like other Nations where Men and Women
meet— [Speaking so fast, she offering to put in her word, is still
prevented by t’other’s running on.

Pet. What Herds of Cuckolds would _Spain_ breed—’Slife, I could find in
my Heart to forswear your Service: Have I taught ye your Trade, to
become my Instructor, how to cozen a dull phlegmatick greasy-brain’d
Englishman?—go and expect your Wishes.

Will. So, she has sent her Matron to our Coxcomb; she saw he was a
Cully fit for Game—who would not be a Rascal to be rich, a Dog, an Ass,
a beaten, harden’d Coward—by Heaven, I will possess this gay
Insensible, to make me hate her—most extremely curse her—See if she be
not fallen to Pray’r again, from thence to Flattery, Jilting and
Purse-taking, to make the Proverb good—My fair false _Sybil_, what
Inspirations are you waiting for from Heaven, new Arts to cheat
Mankind!—Tell me, with what Face canst thou be devout, or ask any thing
from thence, who hast made so leud a use of what it has already
lavish’d on thee?

La Nu. Oh my careless Rover! I perceive all your hot 132 Shot is not
yet spent in Battel, you have a Volley in reserve for me still—Faith,
Officer, the Town has wanted Mirth in your Absence.

Will. And so might all the wiser part for thee, who hast no Mirth, no
Gaiety about thee, and when thou wouldst design some Coxcomb’s ruin; to
all the rest, a Soul thou hast so dull, that neither Love nor Mirth,
nor Wit or Wine can wake it to good Nature—thou’rt one who lazily
work’st in thy Trade, and sell’st for ready Mony so much Kindness; a
tame cold Sufferer only, and no more.

La Nu. What, you would have a Mistress like a Squirrel in a Cage,
always in Action—one who is as free of her Favours as I am sparing of
mine—Well, Captain, I have known the time when _La Nuche_ was such a
Wit, such a Humour, such a Shape, and such a Voice, (tho to say Truth I
sing but scurvily) ’twas Comedy to see and hear me.

Will. Why, yes Faith for once thou wert, and for once mayst be again,
till thou know’st thy Man, and knowest him to be poor. At first you
lik’d me too, you saw me gay, no marks of Poverty dwelt in my Face or
Dress, and then I was the dearest loveliest Man—all this was to my
outside; Death, you made love to my Breeches, caress’d my Garniture and
Feather, an _English_ Fool of Quality you thought me—’Sheart, I have
known a Woman doat on Quality, tho he has stunk thro all his Perfumes;
one who never went all to Bed to her, but left his Teeth, an Eye, false
Back and Breast, sometimes his Palate too upon her Toilet, whilst her
fair Arms hug’d the dismember’d Carcase, and swore him all Perfection,
because of Quality.

La Nu. But he was rich, good Captain, was he not?

Will. Oh most damnably, and a confounded Blockhead, two certain
Remedies against your Pride and Scorn.

La Nu. Have you done, Sir?

Will. With thee and all thy Sex, of which I’ve try’d an hundred, and
found none true or honest.

133 La Nu. Oh, I doubt not the number: for you are one of those
healthy-stomacht Lovers, that can digest a Mistress in a Night, and
hunger again next Morning: a Pox of your whining consumptive
Constitution, who are only constant for want of Appetite: you have a
swinging Stomach to Variety, and Want having set an edge upon your
Invention, (with which you cut thro all Difficulties) you grow more
impudent by Success.

Will. I am not always scorn’d then.

La Nu. I have known you as confidently put your Hands into your Pockets
for Money in a Morning, as if the Devil had been your Banker, when you
knew you put ’em off at Night as empty as your Gloves.

Will. And it may be found Money there too.

La Nu. Then with this Poverty so proud you are, you will not give the
Wall to the Catholick King, unless his Picture hung upon’t. No
Servants, no Money, no Meat, always on foot, and yet undaunted still.

Will. Allow me that, Child.

La Nu. I wonder what the Devil makes you so termagant on our Sex, ’tis
not your high feeding, for your Grandees only dine, and that but when
Fortune pleases—For your parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread
and old _Adam’s_ Ale is only current amongst ye; yet if little _Eve_
walk in the Garden, the starv’d lean Rogues neigh after her, as if they
were in Paradise.

Will. Still true to Love you see—-

La Nu. I heard an _English_ Capuchin swear, that if the King’s
Followers could be brought to pray as well as fast, there would be more
Saints among ’em than the Church has ever canoniz’d.

Will. All this with Pride I own, since ’tis a royal Cause I suffer for;
go pursue your Business your own way, insnare the Fool—I saw the Toils
you set, and how that Face was ordered for the Conquest, your Eyes
brimful of dying lying Love; and now and then a wishing Glance or Sigh
134 thrown as by chance; which when the happy Coxcomb caught—you
feign’d a Blush, as angry and asham’d of the Discovery: and all this
Cunning’s for a little mercenary Gain—fine Clothes, perhaps some Jewels
too, whilst all the Finery cannot hide the Whore!

La Nu. There’s your eternal Quarrel to our Sex, ’twere a fine Trade
indeed to keep a Shop and give your Ware for Love: would it turn to
account think ye, Captain, to trick and dress, to receive all wou’d
enter? faith, Captain, try the Trade.

Pet. What in Discourse with this Railer!—come away; Poverty’s catching.
[Returns from Discourse with _Feth._ speaks to _San._

Will. So is the Pox, good Matron, of which you can afford good
Penniworths.

La Nu. He charms me even with his angry Looks, and will undo me yet.

Pet. Let’s leave this Place, I’ll tell you my Success as we go.

[Ex. all, some one way, some another, the Forepart of the Church shuts
over, except _Will._ _Blunt_, _Aria_, and _Lucia_.

Will. She’s gone, and all the Plagues of Pride go with her.

Blunt. Heartlikins, follow her—Pox on’t, an I’d but as good a Hand at
this Game as thou hast, I’ll venture upon any Chance—

Will. Damn her, come, let’s to Dinner. Where’s _Fetherfool?_

Blunt. Follow’d a good Woodman, who gave him the Sign: he’ll lodge the
Deer e’er night.

Will. Follow’d her—he durst not, the Fool wants Confidence enough to
look on her.

Blunt. Oh you know not how a Country Justice may be improved by Travel;
the Rogue was hedg’d in at home with the Fear of his Neighbours and the
Penal Statutes, now he’s broke loose, he runs neighing like a
Stone-Horse upon the Common.

135
Will. However, I’ll not believe this—let’s follow ’em. [Ex. _Will._ and
_Blunt_.

Aria. He is in love, but with a Courtezan—some Comfort that. We’ll
after him—’Tis a faint-hearted Lover, Who for the first Discouragement
gives over. [Ex. _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

ACT II.

Scene I. The Street.

Enter _Fetherfool_ and _Sancho_, passing over the Stage; after them
_Willmore_ and _Blunt_, follow’d by _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

Will. ’Tis so, by Heaven, he’s chaffering with her Pimp. I’ll spare my
Curses on him for having her, he has a Plague beyond ’em.
—Harkye, I’ll never love, nor lie with Women more, those Slaves to
Lust, to Vanity and Interest.

Blunt. Ha, Captain! [Shaking his Head and smiling.

Will. Come, let’s go drink Damnation to ’em all.

Blunt. Not all, good Captain.

Will. All, for I hate ’em all—

Aria. Heavens! if he should indeed! [Aside.

Blunt. But, _Robert_, I have found you most inclined to a Damsel when
you had a Bottle in your Head.

Will. Give me thy Hand, _Ned_—Curse me, despise me, point me out for
Cowardice if e’er thou see’st me court a Woman more: Nay, when thou
knowest I ask any of the Sex a civil Question again—a Plague upon ’em,
how they’ve handled me—come, let’s go drink, I say—Confusion to the
Race—A Woman!—no, I will be burnt with my own Fire to Cinders e’er any
of the Brood shall lay my Flame—

Aria. He cannot be so wicked to keep this Resolution sure— [She passes
by.
136
Faith, I must be resolv’d—you’ve made a pious Resolution, Sir, had you
the Grace to keep it— [Passing on he pauses, and looks on her.

Will. Hum—What’s that?

Blunt. That—O—nothing—but a Woman—come away.

Will. A Woman! Damn her, what Mischief made her cross my way just on
the Point of Reformation!

Blunt. I find the Devil will not lose so hopeful a Sinner. Hold, hold,
Captain, have you no Regard to your own Soul? ’dsheartlikins, ’tis a
Woman, a very errant Woman.

Aria. Your Friend informs you right, Sir, I am a Woman.

Will. Ay, Child, or I were a lost Man—therefore, dear lovely Creature—

Aria. How can you tell, Sir?

Will. Oh, I have naturally a large Faith, Child, and thou’st a
promising Form, a tempting Motion, clean Limbs, well drest, and a most
damnable inviting Air.

Aria. I am not to be sold, nor fond of Praise I merit not.

Will. How, not to be sold too! By this light, Child, thou speakest like
a Cherubim, I have not heard so obliging a Sound from the Mouth of
Woman-kind this many a Day—I find we must be better acquainted, my
Dear.

Aria. Your Reason, good familiar Sir, I see no such Necessity.

Will. Child, you are mistaken, I am in great Necessity; for first I
love thee—desperately—have I not damn’d my Soul already for thee, and
wouldst thou be so wicked to refuse a little Consolation to my Body?
Then secondly, I see thou art frank and good-natur’d, and wilt do
Reason _gratis_.

Aria. How prove ye that, good Mr. Philospher?

Will. Thou say’st thou’rt not to be sold, and I’m sure thou’rt to be
had—that lovely Body of so divine a Form, those soft smooth Arms and
Hands, were made t’embrace as well as be embrac’d; that delicate white
rising Bosom to be prest, and all thy other Charms to be enjoy’d.

137 Aria. By one that can esteem ’em to their worth, can set a Value
and a Rate upon ’em.

Will. Name not those Words, they grate my Ears like Jointure, that dull
conjugal Cant that frights the generous Lover. Rate—Death, let the old
Dotards talk of Rates, and pay it t’atone for the Defects of Impotence.
Let the sly Statesman, who jilts the Commonwealth with his grave
Politicks, pay for the Sin, that he may doat in secret; let the brisk
Fool inch out his scanted Sense with a large Purse more eloquent than
he: But tell not me of Rates, who bring a Heart, Youth, Vigor, and a
Tongue to sing the Praise of every single Pleasure thou shalt give me.

Aria. Then if I should be kind, I perceive you would not keep the
Secret.

Will. Secrecy is a damn’d ungrateful Sin, Child, known only where
Religion and Small-beer are current, despis’d where _Apollo_ and the
Vine bless the Country: you find none of _Jove’s_ Mistresses hid in
Roots and Plants, but fixt Stars in Heaven for all to gaze and wonder
at—and tho I am no God, my Dear, I’ll do a Mortal’s Part, and
generously tell the admiring World what hidden Charms thou hast: Come,
lead me to some Place of Happiness—

Blunt. Prithee, honest Damsel, be not so full of Questions; will a
Pistole or two do thee any hurt?

Luc. None at all, Sir—

Blunt. Thou speak’st like a hearty Wench—and I believe hast not been
one of _Venus’_ Hand-maids so long, but thou understand thy Trade—In
short, fair Damsel, this honest Fellow here who is so termagant upon
thy Lady, is my Friend, my particular Friend, and therefore I would
have him handsomly, and well-favour’dly abus’d—you conceive me.

Luc. Truly, Sir, a friendly Request—but in what Nature abus’d?

Blunt. Nature!—why any of your Tricks would serve—but if he could be
conveniently strip’d and beaten, or 138 tost in a Blanket, or any such
trivial Business, thou wouldst do me a singular Kindness; as for
Robbery he defies the Devil: an empty Pocket is an Antidote against
that Ill.

Luc. Your Money, Sir: and if he be not cozen’d, say a _Spanish_ Woman
has neither Wit nor Invention upon Occasion.

Blunt. Sheartlikins, how I shall love and honour thee for’t—here’s
earnest— [Talks to her with Joy and Grimace.

Aria. But who was that you entertain’d at Church but now?

Will. Faith, one, who for her Beauty merits that glorious Title she
wears, it was—a Whore, Child.

Aria. That’s but a scurvy Name; yet, if I’m not mistaken in those false
Eyes of yours, they look with longing Love upon that—Whore, Child.

Will. Thou are i’th’ right, and by this hand, my Soul was full as
wishing as my Eyes: but a Pox on’t, you Women have all a certain
Jargon, or Gibberish, peculiar to your selves; of Value, Rate, Present,
Interest, Settlement, Advantage, Price, Maintenance, and the Devil and
all of Fopperies, which in plain Terms signify ready Money, by way of
Fine before Entrance; so that an honest well-meaning Merchant of Love
finds no Credit amongst ye, without his Bill of Lading.

Aria. We are not all so cruel—but the Devil on’t is, your good-natur’d
Heart is likely accompanied with an ill Face and worse Wit.

Will. Faith, Child, a ready Dish when a Man’s Stomach is up, is better
than a tedious Feast. I never saw any Man yet cut my piece; some are
for Beauty, some are for Wit, and some for the Secret, but I for all,
so it be in a kind Girl: and for Wit in Woman, so she say pretty fond
things, we understand; tho true or false, no matter.

Aria. Give the Devil his due, you are a very conscientious Lover: I
love a Man that scorns to impose dull Truth and Constancy on a
Mistress.

139 Will. Constancy, that current Coin with Fools! No, Child, Heaven
keep that Curse from our Doors.

Aria. Hang it, it loses Time and Profit, new Lovers have new Vows and
new Presents, whilst the old feed upon a dull repetition of what they
did when they were Lovers; ’tis like eating the cold Meat ones self,
after having given a Friend a Feast.

Will. Yes, that’s the thrifty Food for the Family when the Guests are
gone. Faith, Child, thou hast made a neat and a hearty Speech: But
prithee, my Dear, for the future, leave out that same Profit and
Present, for I have a natural Aversion to hard words; and for matter of
quick Dispatch in the Business—give me thy Hand, Child—let us but start
fair, and if thou outstripst me, thou’rt a nimble Racer. [_Lucia_ sees
_Shift_.

Luc. Oh, Madam, let’s be gone: yonder’s Lieutenant Shift, who, if he
sees us, will certainly give an Account of it to Mr. Beaumond. Let’s
get in thro the Garden, I have the Key.

Aria. Here’s Company coming, and for several reasons I would not be
seen. [Offers to go.

Will. Gad, Child, nor I; Reputation is tender—therefore prithee let’s
retire. [Offers to go with her.

Aria. You must not stir a step.

Will. Not stir! no Magick Circle can detain me if you go.

Aria. Follow me then at a distance, and observe where I enter; and at
night (if your Passion lasts so long) return, and you shall find
Admittance into the Garden. [Speaking hastily.
[He runs out after her.

Enter _Shift_.

Shift. Well, Sir, the Mountebank’s come, and just going to begin in the
Piazza; I have order’d Matters, that you shall have a Sight of the
Monsters, and leave to court ’em, and when won, to give the Guardian a
fourth part of the Portions.

140 Blunt. Good: But Mum—here’s the Captain, who must by no means know
our good Fortune, till he see us in State.

Enter _Willmore_, _Shift_ goes to him.

Shift. All things are ready, Sir, for our Design, the House prepar’d as
you directed me, the Guardian wrought upon by the Persuasions of the
two Monsters, to take a Lodging there, and try the Bath of Reformation:
The Bank’s preparing, and the Operators and Musick all ready, and the
impatient Town flockt together to behold the Man of Wonders, and
nothing wanting but your Donship and a proper Speech.

Will. ’Tis well, I’ll go fit my self with a Dress, and think of a
Speech the while: In the mean time, go you and amuse the gaping Fools
that expect my coming. [Goes out.

Enter _Fetherfool_ singing and dancing.

_Feth._ Have you heard of a _Spanish_ Lady,
How she woo’d an _English_ Man?

Blunt. Why, how now, Fetherfool?

_Feth._ Garments gay, and rich as may be,
Deckt with Jewels, had she on.

Blunt. Why, how now, Justice, what run mad out of Dog-days?

_Feth._ Of a comely Countenance and Grace is she,
A sweeter Creature in the World there could not be.

Shift. Why, what the Devil’s the matter, Sir?

Blunt. Stark mad, ’dshartlikins.

Feth. _Of a Comely Countenance_—well, Lieutenant, the most heroick and
illustrious Madona! Thou saw’st her, _Ned_: _And of a comely
Counte—_The most Magnetick Face—well—I knew the Charms of these Eyes of
mine were not made in vain: I was design’d for great things, that’s
certain—_And a sweeter Creature in the World there could not be._
[Singing.

141
Blunt. What then the two Lady Monsters are forgotten? the Design upon
the Million of Money, the Coach and Six, and Patent for Right
Worshipful, all drown’d in the Joy of this new Mistress?—But well,
Lieutenant, since he is so well provided for, you may put in with me
for a Monster; such a Jest, and such a Sum, is not to be lost.

Shift. Nor shall not, or I have lost my Aim. [Aside.

Feth. [_Putting off his Hat._] Your Pardons, good Gentlemen; and tho I
perceive I shall have no great need for so trifling a Sum as a hundred
thousand Pound, or so, yet a Bargain’s a Bargain, Gentlemen.

Blunt. Nay,’dsheartlikins, the Lieutenant scorns to do a foul thing,
d’ye see, but we would not have the Monsters slighted.

Feth. Slighted! no, Sir, I scorn your Words, I’d have ye to know, that
I have as high a Respect for Madam Monster, as any Gentleman in
Christendom, and so I desire she should understand.

Blunt. Why, this is that that’s handsom.

Shift. Well, the Mountebank’s come, Lodgings are taken at his House,
and the Guardian prepar’d to receive you on the aforesaid Terms, and
some fifty Pistoles to the Mountebank to stand your Friend, and the
Business is done. Feth. Which shall be perform’d accordingly, I have it
ready about me.

Blunt. And here’s mine, put ’em together, and let’s be speedy, lest
some should bribe higher, and put in before us. [_Feth._ takes the
Money, and looks pitiful on’t.

Feth. Tis a plaguy round Sum, _Ned_, pray God it turn to Account.

Blunt. Account, ’dsheartlikins, ’tis not in the Power of mortal Man to
cozen ’me.

Shift. Oh fie, Sir, cozen you, Sir!—well, you’ll stay here and see the
Mountebank, he’s coming forth.

[A Hollowing. Enter from the Front a Bank, a Pageant, which they fix on
the Stage at one side, a little Pavilion 142 on’t, Musick playing, and
Operators round below, or Antickers.

[Musick plays, and an Antick Dance.

Enter _Willmore_ like a Mountebank, with a Dagger in one Hand, and a
Viol in the other, _Harlequin_ and _Scaramouche_; _Carlo_ with other
_Spaniards_ below, and Rabble; _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_ above in the
Balcony, others on the other side, _Fetherfool_ and _Blunt_ below.

Will. (_bowing_) Behold this little Viol, which contains in its narrow
Bounds what the whole Universe cannot purchase, if sold to its true
Value; this admirable, this miraculous Elixir, drawn from the Hearts of
Mandrakes, Phenix Livers, and Tongues of Maremaids, and distill’d by
contracted Sun-Beams, has besides the unknown Virtue of curing all
Distempers both of Mind and Body, that divine one of animating the
Heart of Man to that Degree, that however remiss, cold and cowardly by
Nature, he shall become vigorous and brave. Oh stupid and insensible
Man, when Honour and secure Renown invites you, to treat it with
Neglect, even when you need but passive Valour, to become the Heroes of
the Age; receive a thousand Wounds, each of which wou’d let out
fleeting Life: Here’s that can snatch the parting Soul in its full
Career, and bring it back to its native Mansion; baffles grim Death,
and disappoints even Fate.

Feth. Oh Pox, an a Man were sure of that now—

Will. Behold, here’s Demonstration— [Harlequin stabs himself, and falls
as dead.

Feth. Hold, hold, why, what the Devil is the Fellow mad?

Blunt. Why, do’st think he has hurt himself?

Feth. Hurt himself! why, he’s murder’d, Man; ’tis flat _Felo de se_, in
any ground in _England_, if I understand Law, and I have been a Justice
o’th’ Peace.

Will. See, Gentlemen, he’s dead—

143 Feth. Look ye there now, I’ll be gone lest I be taken as an
Accessary. [Going out.

Will. Coffin him, inter him, yet after four and twenty Hours, as many
Drops of this divine Elixir give him new Life again; this will recover
whole Fields of slain, and all the Dead shall rise and fight
again—’twas this that made the Roman Lemons numerous, and now makes
_France_ so formidable, and this alone—may be the Occasion of the loss
of _Germany_. [Pours in _Harlequin’s_ Wound, he rises.

Feth. Why this Fellow’s the Devil, _Ned_, that’s for certain.

Blunt. Oh plague, a damn’d Conjurer, this—

Will. Come, buy this Coward’s Comfort, quickly buy; what Fop would be
abus’d, mimick’d and scorn’d, for fear of Wounds can be so easily
cured? Who is’t wou’d bear the Insolence and Pride of domineering great
Men, proud Officers or Magistrates? or who wou’d cringe to Statesmen
out of Fear? What Cully wou’d be cuckolded? What foolish Heir undone by
cheating Gamesters? What Lord wou’d be lampoon’d? What Poet fear the
Malice of his satirical Brother, or Atheist fear to fight for fear of
Death? Come buy my Coward’s Comfort, quickly buy.

Feth. Egad, _Ned_, a very excellent thing this; I’ll lay out ten Reals
upon this Commodity.

[They buy, whilst another Part of the Dance is danc’d.

Will. Behold this little Paper, which contains a Pouder, whose Value
surmounts that of Rocks of Diamonds and Hills of Gold; ’twas this made
_Venus_ a Goddess, and was given her by _Apollo_, from her deriv’d to
_Helen_, and in the Sack of _Troy_ lost, till recover’d by me out of
some Ruins of _Asia._ Come, buy it, Ladies, you that wou’d be fair and
wear eternal Youth; and you in whom the amorous Fire remains, when all
the Charms are fled: You that dress young and gay, and would be thought
so, that patch and paint, to fill up sometimes old Furrows on your
Brows, and set yourselves for Conquest, tho in vain; here’s that will
give you aubern Hair, white Teeth, red Lips, and Dimples on 144 your
Cheeks: Come, buy it all you that are past bewitching, and wou’d have
handsom, young and active Lovers.

Feth. Another good thing, _Ned_.

Car. I’ll lay out a Pistole or two in this, if it have the same Effect
on Men.

Will. Come, all you City Wives, that wou’d advance your Husbands to
Lord Mayors, come, buy of me new Beauty; this will give it tho now
decay’d, as are your Shop Commodities; this will retrieve your
Customers, and vend your false and out of fashion’d Wares: cheat, lye,
protest and cozen as you please, a handsom Wife makes all a lawful
Gain. Come, City Wives, come, buy.

Feth. A most prodigious Fellow!

[They buy, he sits, the other Part is danc’d.

Will. But here, behold the Life and Soul of Man! this is the amorous
Pouder, which _Venus_ made and gave the God of Love, which made him
first a Deity; you talk of Arrows, Bow, and killing Darts; Fables,
poetical Fictions, and no more: ’tis this alone that wounds and fires
the Heart, makes Women kind, and equals Men to Gods; ’tis this that
makes your great Lady doat on the ill-favour’d Fop; your great Man be
jilted by his little Mistress, the Judge cajol’d by his Semstress, and
your Politican by his Comedian; your young Lady doat on her decrepid
Husband, your Chaplain on my Lady’s Waiting-Woman, and the young Squire
on the Landry-Maid—In fine, Messieurs,

’Tis this that cures the Lover’s Pain,
And _Celia_ of her cold Disdain.

Feth. A most devilish Fellow this!

Blunt. Hold, shartlikins, _Fetherfool_, let’s have a Dose or two of
this Pouder for quick Dispatch with our Monsters.

Feth. Why Pox, Man, Jugg my Giant would swallow a whole Cart-Load
before ’twould operate.

Blunt. No hurt in trying a Paper or two however.

Car. A most admirable Receit, I shall have need on’t.

145
Will. I need say nothing of my divine Baths of Reformation, nor the
wonders of the old Oracle of the Box, which resolves all Questions, my
Bills sufficiently declare their Virtue. [Sits down. They buy.

Enter _Petronella Elenora_ carried in a Chair, dress’d like a Girl of
Fifteen.

Shift. Room there, Gentlemen, room for a Patient.

Blunt. Pray, Seignior, who may this be thus muzzl’d by old Gaffer Time?

Car. One _Petronella Elenora_, Sir, a famous outworn Curtezan.

Blunt. _Elenora!_ she may be that of _Troy_ for her Antiquity, tho
fitter for God _Priapus_ to ravish than _Paris_.

Shift. _Hunt_, a word; dost thou see that same formal Politician
yonder, on the Jennet, the nobler Animal of the two?

Hunt. What of him?

Shift. ’Tis the same drew on the Captain this Morning, and I must
revenge the Affront.

Hunt. Have a care of Revenges in _Spain_, upon Persons of his Quality.

Shift. Nay, I’ll only steal his Horse from under him.

Hunt. Steal it! thou may’st take it by force perhaps; but how safely is
a Question.

Shift. I’ll warrant thee—shoulder you up one side of his great Saddle,
I’ll do the like on t’other; then heaving him gently up, _Harlequin_
shall lead the Horse from between his Worship’s Legs: All this in the
Crowd will not be perceiv’d, where all Eyes are imploy’d on the
Mountebank.

Hunt. I apprehend you now—

[Whilst they are lifting _Petronella_ on the Mountebank’s Stage, they
go into the Crowd, shoulder up _Carlo’s_ Saddle. _Harlequin_ leads the
Horse forward, whilst _Carlo_ is gazing, and turning up his Mustachios;
they hold him up a little while, then let him drop: he rises and stares
about for his Horse.

146
Car. This is flat Conjuration.

Shift. What’s your Worship on foot?

Hunt. I never saw his Worship on foot before.

Car. Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical Art, and
shall cost the Seignior dear—Men of my Garb affronted—my Jennet
vanisht—most miraculous—by St. _Jago_ I’ll be revenged—hah, what’s
here—_La Nuche_— [Surveys her at a distance.

Enter _La Nuche_, _Aurelia_, _Sancho_.

La Nu. We are pursu’d by _Beaumond_, who will certainly hinder our
speaking to _Willmore_, should we have the good fortune to see him in
this Crowd—and yet there’s no avoiding him.

Beau. ’Tis she, how carefully she shuns me!

Aur. I’m satisfied he knows us by the jealous Concern which appears in
that prying Countenance of his.

Beau. Stay, Cruel, is it Love or Curiosity, that wings those nimble
Feet? [Holds her.

[_Lucia_ above and _Ariadne_.]

Aria. _Beaumond_ with a Woman!

Beau. Have you forgot this is the glorious Day that ushers in the Night
shall make you mine? the happiest Night that ever favour’d Love!

La Nu. Or if I have, I find you’ll take care to remember me.

Beau. Sooner I could forget the Aids of Life, sooner forget how first
that Beauty charm’d me.

La Nu. Well, since your Memory’s so good, I need not doubt your coming.

Beau. Still cold and unconcern’d! How have I doated, and how
sacrific’d, regardless of my Fame, lain idling here, when all the Youth
of _Spain_ were gaining Honour, valuing one Smile of thine above their
Laurels!

La Nu. And in return, I do submit to yield, preferring you above those
fighting Fools, who safe in Multitudes reap Honour cheaper.

147 Beau. Yet there is one—one of those fighting Fools which should’st
thou see, I fear I were undone; brave, handsome, gay, and all that
Women doat on, unfortunate in every good of Life, but that one Blessing
of obtaining Women: Be wise, for if thou seest him thou art lost—Why
dost thou blush?

La Nu. Because you doubt my Heart—’tis _Willmore_ that he means.
[Aside.] We’ve Eyes upon us, Don _Carlo_ may grow jealous, and he’s a
powerful Rival—at night. I shall expect ye.

Beau. Whilst I prepare my self for such a Blessing. [Ex. _Beau._

Car. Hah! a Cavalier in conference with _La Nuche!_ and entertain’d
without my knowledge! I must prevent this Lover, for he’s young—and
this Night will surprise her. [Aside.

Will. And you would be restor’d? [To _Petro._

Pet. Yes, if there be that Divinity in your Baths of Reformation.

Will. There are.

New Flames shall sparkle in those Eyes;
And these grey Hairs flowing and bright shall rise:
These Cheeks fresh Buds of Roses wear,
And all your withered Limbs so smooth and clear,
As shall a general Wonder move,
And wound a thousand Hearts with Love.

Pet. A Blessing on you, Sir, there’s fifty Pistoles for you, and as I
earn it you shall have more. [They lift her down.

[Exit _Willmore_ bowing.

Shift. Messieurs, ’tis late, and the Seignior’s Patients stay for him
at his Laboratory, to morrow you shall see the conclusion of this
Experiment, and so I humbly take my leave at this time.

Enter _Willmore_, below sees _La Nuche_, makes up to her, whilst the
last part of the Dance is dancing.

148 La Nu. What makes you follow me, Sir? [She goes from him, he
pursues.

Will. Madam, I see something in that lovely Face of yours, which if not
timely prevented will be your ruin: I’m now in haste, but I have more
to say— [Goes off.

La Nu. Stay, Sir—he’s gone—and fill’d me with a curiosity that will not
let me rest till it be satisfied: Follow me, _Aurelia_, for I must know
my Destiny. [Goes out.

[The Dance ended, the Bank removes, the People go off.

Feth. Come, _Ned_, now for our amorous Visit to the two Lady Monsters.

[Ex. _Feth._ and _Blunt_.

Scene II. Changes to a fine Chamber.

Enter _Ariadne_ and _Lucia_.

Aria. I’m thoughtful: Prithee, Cousin, sing some foolish Song—

SONG.

_Phillis_, whose Heart was unconfin’d
And free as Flowers on Meads and Plains,
None boasted of her being kind,
’Mongst all the languishing and amorous Swains:

No Sighs nor Tears the Nymph could move [bis.

To pity or return their Love.

Till on a time, the hapless Maid
Retired to shun the heat o’th’ Day,
Into a Grove, beneath whose Shade
_Strephon_, the careless Shepherd, sleeping lay:

But oh such Charms the Youth adorn,[bis.

Love is revenged for all her Scorn.

Her Cheeks with Blushes covered were,
And tender Sighs her Bosom warm;
A softness in her Eyes appear,
Unusual Pains she feels from every Charm:

To Woods and Echoes now she cries,[bis.

For Modesty to speak denies.

149 Aria. Come, help to undress me, for I’ll to this Mountebank, to
know what success I shall have with my Cavalier. [Unpins her things
before a great Glass that is fasten’d.

Luc. You are resolv’d then to give him admittance?

Aria. Where’s the danger of a handsom young Fellow?

Luc. But you don’t know him, Madam.

Aria. But I desire to do, and time may bring it about without Miracle.

Luc. Your Cousin _Beaumond_ will forbid the Banes.

Aria. No, nor old _Carlos_ neither, my Mother’s precious Choice, who is
as sollicitous for the old Gentleman, as my Father-in-Law is for his
Nephew. Therefore, _Lucia_, like a good and gracious Child, I’ll end
the Dispute between my Father and Mother, and please my self in the
choice of this Stranger, if he be to be had.

Luc. I should as soon be enamour’d on the North Wind, a Tempest, or a
Clap of Thunder. Bless me from such a Blast.

Aria. I’d have a Lover rough as Seas in Storms, upon occasion; I hate
your dull temperate Lover, ’tis such a husbandly quality, like
_Beaumond’s_ Addresses to me, whom neither Joy nor Anger puts in
motion; or if it do, ’tis visibly forc’d—I’m glad I saw him entertain a
Woman to day, not that I care, but wou’d be fairly rid of him.

Luc. You’ll hardly mend your self in this.

Aria. What, because he held Discourse with a Curtezan?

Luc. Why, is there no danger in her Eyes, do ye think?

Aria. None that I fear, that Stranger’s not such a fool to give his
Heart to a common Woman; and she that’s concern’d where her Lover
bestows his Body, were I the Man, I should think she had a mind to’t
her self.

Luc. And reason, Madam: in a lawful way ’tis your due.

Aria. What all? unconscionable _Lucia!_ I am more merciful; but be he
what he will, I’ll to this cunning Man, to know whether ever any part
of him shall be mine.

Luc. Lord, Madam, sure he’s a Conjurer.

150 Aria. Let him be the Devil, I’ll try his Skill, and to that end
will put on a Suit of my Cousin _Endymion_; there are two or three very
pretty ones of his in the Wardrobe, go carry ’em to my Chamber, and
we’ll fit our selves and away—Go haste whilst I undress. [Ex. _Lucia_.

[_Ariadne_ undressing before the Glass.

Enter _Beaumond_ tricking himself, and looks on himself.

Beau. Now for my charming Beauty, fair _La Nuche_—hah—Ariadne—damn the
dull Property, how shall I free my self?

[She turns, sees him, and walks from the Glass, he takes no notice of
her, but tricks himself in the Glass, humming a Song.

Aria. _Beaumond!_ What Devil brought him hither to prevent me? I hate
the formal matrimonial Fop.

[He walks about and sings.

Sommes nous pas trop heureux,
Belle Irise, que nous ensemble.

A Devil on him, he may chance to plague me till night, and hinder my
dear Assignation.

[Sings again.

La Nuit et le Sombre voiles
Coverie nos desires ardentes;
Et l’Amour et les Etoiles
Sont nos secrets confidents.

Beau. Pox on’t, how dull am I at an excuse? [Sets his Wig in the Glass,
and sings.

A Pox of Love and Woman-kind,
And all the Fops adore ’em.

[Puts on his Hat, cocks it, and goes to her.

How is’t, Cuz?

Aria. So, here’s the saucy freedom of a Husband Lover—a blest Invention
this of marrying, whoe’er first found it out.

Beau. Damn this _English_ Dog of a Perriwig-maker, 151 what an ungainly
Air it gives the Face, and for a Wedding Perriwig too—how dost thou
like it, _Ariadne?_ [Uneasy.

Aria. As ill as the Man—I perceive you have taken more care for your
Perriwig than your Bride.

Beau. And with reason, _Ariadne_, the Bride was never the care of the
Lover, but the business of the Parents; ’tis a serious Affair, and
ought to be manag’d by the grave and wise: Thy Mother and my Uncle have
agreed the Matter, and would it not look very sillily in me now to
whine a tedious Tale of Love in your Ear, when the business is at an
end? ’tis like saying a Grace when a Man should give Thanks.

Aria. Why did you not begin sooner then?

Beau. Faith, _Ariadne_, because I know nothing of the Design in hand;
had I had civil warning, thou shouldst have had as pretty smart
Speeches from me, as any Coxcomb Lover of ’em all could have made thee.

Aria. I shall never marry like a _Jew_ in my own Tribe; I’ll rather be
possest by honest old doating Age, than by saucy conceited Youth, whose
Inconstancy never leaves a Woman safe or quiet.

Beau. You know the Proverb of the half Loaf, _Ariadne_; a Husband that
will deal thee some Love is better than one who can give thee none: you
would have a blessed time on’t with old Father _Carlo_.

Aria. No matter, a Woman may with some lawful excuse cuckold him, and
’twould be scarce a Sin.

Beau. Not so much as lying with him, whose reverend Age wou’d make it
look like Incest.

Aria. But to marry thee—would be a Tyranny from whence there’s no
Appeal: A drinking whoring Husband! ’tis the Devil—

Beau. You are deceiv’d, if you think Don _Carlo_ more chaste than I;
only duller, and more a Miser, one that fears his Flesh more, and loves
his Money better.—Then to be condemn’d to lie with him—oh, who would
not 152 rejoice to meet a Woollen-Waistcoat, and knit Night-Cap without
a Lining, a Shirt so nasty, a cleanly Ghost would not appear in’t at
the latter Day? then the compound of nasty Smells about him, stinking
Breath, Mustachoes stuft with villainous snush, Tobacco, and hollow
Teeth: thus prepar’d for Delight, you meet in Bed, where you may lie
and sigh whole Nights away, he snores it out till Morning, and then
rises to his sordid business.

Aria. All this frights me not: ’tis still much better than a keeping
Husband, whom neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife can oblige.

Beau. Oh, you know not the good-nature of a Man of Wit, at least I
shall bear a Conscience, and do thee reason, which Heaven denies to old
_Carlo_, were he willing.

Aria. Oh, he talks as high, and thinks as well of himself as any young
Coxcomb of ye all.

Beau. He has reason, for if his Faith were no better than his Works,
he’d be damn’d.

Aria. Death, who wou’d marry, who wou’d be chaffer’d thus, and sold to
Slavery? I’d rather buy a Friend at any Price that I could love and
trust.

Beau. Ay, could we but drive on such a Bargain.

Aria. You should not be the Man; You have a Mistress, Sir, that has
your Heart, and all your softer Hours: I know’t, and if I were so
wretched as to marry thee, must see my Fortune lavisht out on her; her
Coaches, Dress, and Equipage exceed mine by far: Possess she all the
day thy Hours of Mirth, good Humour and Expence, thy Smiles, thy
Kisses, and thy Charms of Wit. Oh how you talk and look when in her
Presence! but when with me,

A Pox of Love and Woman-kind, [Sings.
And all the Fops adore ’em.

How it’s, Cuz—then slap, on goes the Beaver, which being cock’d, you
bear up briskly, with the second Part to the same Tune—Harkye, Sir, let
me advise you to pack up your 153 Trumpery and be gone, your honourable
Love, your matrimonial Foppery, with your other Trinkets thereunto
belonging; or I shall talk aloud, and let your Uncle hear you.

Beau. Sure she cannot know I love _La Nuche_. [Aside.] The Devil take
me, spoil’d! What Rascal has inveigled thee? What lying fawning Coward
has abus’d thee? When fell you into this Leudness? Pox, thou art hardly
worth the loving now, that canst be such a Fool, to wish me chaste, or
love me for that Virtue; or that wouldst have me a ceremonious Whelp,
one that makes handsom Legs to Knights without laughing, or with a
sneaking modest Squirish Countenance; assure you, I have my Maidenhead.
A Curse upon thee, the very thought of Wife has made thee formal.

Aria. I must dissemble, or he’ll stay all day to make his peace
again—why, have you ne’er—a Mistress then?

Beau. A hundred, by this day, as many as I like, they are my Mirth, the
business of my loose and wanton Hours; but thou art my Devotion, the
grave, the solemn Pleasure of my Soul—Pox, would I were handsomly rid
of thee too. [Aside.] —Come, I have business—send me pleas’d away.

Aria. Would to Heaven thou wert gone; [Aside.] You’re going to some
Woman now.

Beau. Oh damn the Sex, I hate ’em all—but thee—farewell, my pretty
jealous-sullen-Fool. [Goes out.

Aria. Farewel, believing Coxcomb. [Enter _Lucia_.

Lucia. Madam, the Clothes are ready in your Chamber.

Aria. Let’s haste and put ’em on then. [Runs out.

ACT III.

Scene I. A House.

Enter _Fetherfool_ and _Blunt_, staring about, after them _Shift_.

Shift. Well, Gentlemen, this is the Doctor’s House, and your fifty
Pistoles has made him intirely yours; the Ladies 154 too are here in
safe Custody—Come, draw Lots who shall have the Dwarf, and who the
Giant. [They draw.

Feth. I have the Giant.

Blunt. And I the little tiny Gentlewoman.

Shift. Well, you shall first see the Ladies, and then prepare for your
Uncle _Moses_, the old _Jew_ Guardian, before whom you must be very
grave and sententious: You know the old Law was full of Ceremony.

Feth. Well, I long to see the Ladies, and to have the first Onset over.

Shift. I’ll cause ’em to walk forth immediately. [Goes out.

Feth. My Heart begins to fail me plaguily—would I could see ’em a
little at a Distance before they come slap dash upon a Man. [Peeping.
Hah!—Mercy upon us!—What’s yonder!—Ah, _Ned_, my Monster is as big as
the Whore of _Babylon_—Oh I’m in a cold Sweat— [_Blunt_ pulls him to
peep, and both do so.
Oh Lord! she’s as tall as the St. _Christopher_ in _Notre-dame_ at
_Paris_, and the little one looks like the Christo upon his Shoulders—I
shall ne’er be able to stand the first Brunt.

Blunt. ’Dsheartlikins, whither art going? [Pulls him back.

Feth. Why only—to—say my Prayers a little—I’ll be with thee presently.
[Offers to go, he pulls him.

Blunt. What a Pox, art thou afraid of a Woman—

Feth. Not of a Woman, _Ned_, but of a She _Gargantua_, I am of a
_Hercules_ in Petticoats.

Blunt. The less Resemblance the better. ’Shartlikins, I’d rather mine
were a _Centaur_ than a Woman: No, since my _Naples_ Adventure, I am
clearly for your Monster.

Feth. Prithee, _Ned_, there’s Reason in all things—

Blunt. But villainous Woman—’Dshartlikins, stand your Ground, or I’ll
nail you to’t: Why, what a Pox are you so quezy stomach’d, a Monster
won’t down with you, with a hundred thousand Pound to boot. [Pulling
him.

Feth. Nay, _Ned_, that mollifies something; and I scorn it should be
said of _Nich. Fetherfool_ that he left his Friend 155 in danger, or
did an ill thing: therefore, as thou say’st, _Ned_, tho she were a
Centaur, I’ll not budg an Inch.

Blunt. Why God a Mercy.

Enter the _Giant_ and _Dwarf_, with them _Shift_ as an Operator, and
_Harlequin_ attending.

Feth. Oh—they come—Prithee, _Ned_, advance— [Puts him forward.

Shift. Most beautiful Ladies.

Feth. Why, what a flattering Son of a Whore’s this?

Shift. These are the illustrious Persons your Uncle designs your humble
Servants, and who have so extraordinary a Passion for your
Seignioraships.

Feth. Oh yes, a most damnable one: Wou’d I were cleanlily off the Lay,
and had my Money again.

Blunt. Think of a Million, Rogue, and do not hang an Arse thus.

Giant. What, does the Cavalier think I’ll devour him? [To _Shift_.

Feth. Something inclin’d to such a Fear.

Blunt. Go and salute her, or, Adsheartlikins, I’ll leave you to her
Mercy.

Feth. Oh, dear _Ned_, have pity on me—but as for saluting her, you
speak of more than may be done, dear Heart, without a Scaling Ladder.
[Exit _Shift_.

Dwarf. Sure, Seignior _Harlequin,_ these Gentlemen are dumb.

Blunt. No, my little diminutive Mistress, my small Epitomy of
Woman-kind, we can prattle when our Hands are in, but we are raw and
bashful, young Beginners; for this is the first time we ever were in
love: we are something aukard, or so, but we shall come on in time, and
mend upon Incouragement.

Feth. Pox on him, what a delicate Speech has he made now—’Gad, I’d give
a thousand Pounds a Year for _Ned’s_ concise Wit, but not a Groat for
his Judgment in Womankind.

156

Enter Shift with a Ladder, sets it against the Giant, and bows to
_Fetherfool_.

Shift. Here, Seignior, Don, approach, mount, and salute the Lady.

Feth. Mount! why,’twould turn my Brains to look down from her
Shoulders—But hang’t, ’Gad, I will be brave and venture. [Runs up the
Ladder, salutes her, and runs down again.
And Egad this was an Adventure and a bold one—but since I am come off
with a whole Skin, I am flesht for the next onset—Madam—has your
Greatness any mind to marry? [Goes to her, speaks, and runs back; Blunt
claps him on the Back.

Giant. What if I have?

Feth. Why then, Madam, without inchanted Sword or Buckler, I’m your
Man.

Giant. My Man? my Mouse. I’ll marry none whose Person and Courage shall
not bear some Proportion to mine.

Feth. Your Mightiness I fear will die a Maid then.

Giant. I doubt you’ll scarce secure me from that Fear, who court my
Fortune, not my Beauty.

Feth. Hu, how scornful she is, I’ll warrant you—why I must confess,
your Person is something heroical and masculine, but I protest to your
Highness, I love and honour ye.

Dwarf. Prithee, Sister, be not so coy, I like my Lover well enough; and
if Seignior Mountebank keep his Word in making us of reasonable
Proportions, I think the Gentlemen may serve for Husbands.

Shift. Dissemble, or you betray your Love for us. [Aside to the Giant.

Giant. And if he do keep his Word, I should make a better Choice, not
that I would change this noble Frame of mine, cou’d I but meet my
Match, and keep up the first Race of Man intire: But since this scanty
World affords none such, I to be happy, must be new created, and then
shall expect a wiser Lover.

157
Feth. Why, what a peevish Titt’s this; nay, look ye, Madam, as for that
matter, your Extraordinariness may do what you please—but ’tis not done
like a Monster of Honour, when a Man has set his Heart upon you, to
cast him off—Therefore I hope you’ll pity a despairing Lover, and cast
down an Eye of Consolation upon me; for I vow, most Amazonian Princess,
I love ye as if Heaven and Earth wou’d come together.

Dwarf. My Sister will do much, I’m sure, to save the Man that loves her
so passionately—she has a Heart.

Feth. And a swinger ’tis—’Sbud—she moves like the Royal Sovereign, and
is as long a tacking about. [Aside.

Giant. Then your Religion, Sir.

Feth. Nay, as for that, Madam, we are _English_, a Nation I thank God,
that stand as little upon Religion as any Nation under the Sun, unless
it be in Contradiction; and at this time have so many amongst us, a Man
knows not which to turn his Hand to—neither will I stand with your
Hugeness for a small matter of Faith or so—Religion shall shall break
no squares.

Dwarf. I hope, Sir, you are of your Friend’s Opinion.

Blunt. My little Spark of a Diamond, I am, I was born a _Jew_, with an
Aversion to Swines Flesh.

Dwarf. Well, Sir, I shall hasten Seignior Doctor to compleat my Beauty,
by some small Addition, to appear the more grateful to you.

Blunt. Lady, do not trouble your self with transitory Parts,
’Dshartlikins thou’rt as handsom as needs be for a Wife.

Dwarf. A little taller, Seignior, wou’d not do amiss, my younger Sister
has got so much the Start of me.

Blunt. In troth she has, and now I think on’t, a little taller wou’d do
well for Propagation; I should be both the Posterity of the antient
Family of the _Blunts_ of _Essex_ should dwindle into Pigmies or
Fairies.

Giant. Well, Seigniors, since you come with our Uncle’s liking, we give
ye leave to hope, hope—and be happy— [They go out with _Harlequin_.

158
Feth. Egad, and that’s great and gracious—

Enter _Willmore_ and an Operator.

Will. Well, Gentlemen, and how like you the Ladies?

Blunt. Faith, well enough for the first Course, Sir.

Will. The Uncle, by my indeavour, is intirely yours—but whilst the
Baths are preparing,’twould be well if you would think of what Age,
Shape, and Complexion you would have your Ladies form’d in.

Feth. Why, may we chuse, Mr. Doctor?

Will. What Beauties you please.

Feth. Then will I have my Giant, _Ned_, just such another Gentlewoman
as I saw at Church to day—and about some fifteen.

Blunt. Hum, fifteen—I begin to have a plaguy Itch about me too, towards
a handsome Damsel of fifteen; but first let’s marry, lest they should
be boiled away in these Baths of Reformation.

Feth. But, Doctor, can you do all this without the help of the Devil?

Will. Hum, some small Hand he has in the Business? we make an Exchange
with him, give him the clippings of the Giant for so much of his Store
as will serve to build the Dwarf.

Blunt. Why, then mine will be more than three Parts Devil, Mr. Doctor.

Will. Not so, the Stock is only Devil, the Graft is your own little
Wife inoculated.

Blunt. Well, let the Devil and you agree about this matter as soon as
you please.

Enter _Shift_ as an Operator.

Shift. Sir, there is without a Person of an extraordinary Size wou’d
speak with you.

Will. Admit him.

Enter _Harlequin_, ushers in _Hunt_ as a Giant.

Feth. Hah—some o’ergrown Rival, on my Life. [_Feth._ gets from it.

159
Will. What the Devil have we here? [Aside.

Hunt. _Bezolos mano’s_, Seignior, I understand there is a Lady whose
Beauty and Proportion can only merit me: I’ll say no more—but shall be
grateful to you for your Assistance.

Feth. ’Tis so.

Hunt. The Devil’s in’t if this does not fright ’em from a farther
Courtship. [Aside.

Will. Fear nothing, Seignior—Seignior, you may try your Chance, and
visit the Ladies. [Talks to _Hunt_.

Feth. Why, where the Devil could this Monster conceal himself all this
while, that we should neither see nor hear of him?

Blunt. Oh—he lay disguis’d; I have heard of an Army that has done so.

Feth. Pox, no single House cou’d hold him.

Blunt. No—he dispos’d himself in several parcels up and down the Town,
here a Leg, and there an Arm; and hearing of this proper Match for him,
put himself together to court his fellow Monster.

Feth. Good Lord! I wonder what Religion he’s of.

Blunt. Some heathen Papist, by his notable Plots and Contrivances.

Will. ’Tis _Hunt_, that Rogue— [Aside.] Sir, I confess there is great
Power in Sympathy—Conduct him to the Ladies— [He tries to go in at the
Door.
—I am sorry you cannot enter at that low Door, Seignior, I’ll have it
broken down—

Hunt. No, Seignior, I can go in at twice.

Feth. How, at twice! what a Pox can he mean?

Will. Oh, Sir,’tis a frequent thing by way of Inchantment.
[_Hunt_ being all Doublet, leaps off from another Man who is all
Breeches, and goes out; Breeches follows stalking.

Feth. Oh Pox, Mr. Doctor, this must be the Devil.

Will. Oh fie, Sir, the Devil! no ’tis all done by an 160 inchanted
Girdle—These damn’d Rascals will spoil all by too gross an Imposition
on the Fools. [Aside.

Feth. This is the Devil, _Ned_, that’s certain—But hark ye, Mr. Doctor,
I hope I shall not have my Mistress inchanted from me by this inchanted
Rival, hah?

Will. Oh, no, Sir, the Inquisition will never let ’em marry, for fear
of a Race of Giants,’twill be worse than the Invasion of the _Moors_,
or the _French_: but go—think of your Mistresses Names and Ages, here’s
Company, and you would not be seen. [Ex. _Blunt_ and _Feth._

Enter _La Nuche_ and _Aurelia_; _Will._ bows to her.

La Nu. Sir, the Fame of your excellent Knowledge, and what you said to
me this day; has given me a Curiosity to learn my Fate, at least that
Fate you threatened.

Will. Madam, from the Oracle in the Box you may be resolved any
Question— [Leads her to the Table, where stands a Box full of Balls; he
stares on her.
—How lovely every absent minute makes her—Madam, be pleas’d to draw
from out this Box what Ball you will. [She draws, he takes it, and
gazes on her and on it.
Madam, upon this little Globe is character’d your Fate and Fortune; the
History of your Life to come and past—first, Madam—you’re—a Whore.

La Nu. A very plain beginning.

Will. My Art speaks simple Truth; the Moon is your Ascendent, that
covetous Planet that borrows all her Light, and is in opposition still
to _Venus_; and Interest more prevails with you than Love: yet here I
find a cross—intruding Line—that does inform me—you have an Itch that
way, but Interest still opposes: you are a slavish mercenary
Prostitute.

La Nu. Your Art is so, tho call’d divine, and all the Universe is
sway’d by Interest: and would you wish this Beauty which adorns me,
should be dispos’d about for Charity? Proceed and speak more Reason.

161
Will. But _Venus_ here gets the Ascent again, and spite of—Interest,
spite of all Aversion, will make you doat upon a Man— [Still looking
on, and turning the Ball.
Wild, fickle, restless, faithless as the Winds!—a Man of Arms he is—and
by this Line—a Captain— [Looking on her.] for _Mars_ and _Venus_ were
in conjunction at his Birth—and Love and War’s his business.

La Nu. There thou hast toucht my Heart, and spoke so true, that all
thou say’st I shall receive as Oracle. Well, grant I love, that shall
not make me yield.

Will. I must confess you’re ruin’d if you yield, and yet not all your
Pride, not all your Vows, your Wit, your Resolution, or your Cunning,
can hinder him from conquering absolutely: your Stars are fixt, and
Fate irrevocable.

La Nu. No,—I will controul my Stars and Inclinations; and tho I love
him more than Power or Interest, I will be Mistress of my fixt
Resolves—One Question more—Does this same Captain, this wild happy Man
love me?

Will. I do not—find—it here—only a possibility incourag’d by your
Love—Oh that you cou’d resist—but you are destin’d his, and to be
ruin’d. [Sighs, and looks on her, she grows in a Rage.

La Nu. Why do you tell me this? I am betray’d, and every caution blows
my kindling Flame—hold—tell me no more—I might have guess’d my Fate,
from my own Soul have guest it—but yet I will be brave, I will resist
in spite of Inclinations, Stars, or Devils.

Will. Strive not, fair Creature, with the Net that holds you, you’ll
but intangle more. Alas! you must submit and be undone.

La Nu. Damn your false Art—had he but lov’d me too, it had excus’d the
Malice of my Stars.

Will. Indeed, his Love is doubtful; for here—I trace him in a new
pursuit—which if you can this Night prevent, perhaps you fix him.

La Nu. Hah, pursuing a new Mistress! there thou 162 hast met the little
Resolution I had left, and dasht it into nothing—but I have vow’d
Allegiance to my Interest—Curse on my Stars, they cou’d not give me
Love where that might be advanc’d—I’ll hear no more. [Gives him Money.

Enter Shift.

Shift. Sir, there are several Strangers arriv’d, who talk of the old
Oracle. How will you receive ’em?

Will. I’ve business now, and must be excus’d, a while.—Thus far—I’m
well; but I may tell my Tale so often o’er, till, like the Trick of
Love, I spoil the pleasure by the repetition.—Now I’ll uncase, and see
what Effects my Art has wrought on _La Nuche_, for she’s the promis’d
Good, the Philosophick Treasure that terminates my Toil and Industry.
Wait you here. [Ex. _Will._

Enter _Ariadne_ in Mens Clothes, with _Lucia_ so drest, and other
Strangers.

Aria. How now, Seignior Operator, where’s this renowned Man of Arts and
Sciences, this Don of Wonders?—hah! may a Man have a Pistole’s Worth or
two of his Tricks? will he shew, Seignior?

Shift. Whatever you dare see, Sir.

Aria. And I dare see the greatest Bug-bear he can conjure up, my
Mistress’s Face in a Glass excepted.

Shift. That he can shew, Sir, but is now busied in weighty Affairs with
a Grandee.

Aria. Pox, must we wait the Leisure of formal Grandees and
Statesmen—ha, who’s this?—the lovely Conqueress of my Heart, _La
Nuche._ [Goes to her, she is talking with _Aurel._

La Nu. What foolish thing art thou?

Aria. Nay, do not frown, nor fly; for if you do, I must arrest you,
fair one.

La Nu. At whose Suit, pray?

Aria. At Love’s—you have stol’n a Heart of mine, and us’d it scurvily.

163 La Nu. By what marks do you know the Toy, that I may be no longer
troubled with it?

Aria. By a fresh Wound, which toucht by her that gave it bleeds anew, a
Heart all over kind and amorous.

La Nu. When was this pretty Robbery committed?

Ana. To day, most sacrilegiously, at Church, where you debauch’d my
Zeal; and when I wou’d have pray’d, your Eyes had put the Change upon
my Tongue, and made it utter Railings: Heav’n forgive ye!

La Nu. You are the gayest thing without a Heart, I ever saw.

Aria. I scorn to flinch for a bare Wound or two; nor is he routed that
has lost the day, he may again rally, renew the Fight, and vanquish.

La Nu. You have a good opinion of that Beauty, which I find not so
forcible, nor that fond Prattle uttered with such Confidence.

Aria. But I have Quality and Fortune too.

La Nu. So had you need. I should have guest the first by your pertness;
for your saucy thing of Quality acts the Man as impudently at fourteen,
as another at thirty: nor is there any thing so hateful as to hear it
talk of Love, Women and Drinking; nay, to see it marry too at that Age,
and get itself a Play-fellow in its Son and Heir.

Aria. This Satyr on my Youth shall never put me out of countenance, or
make me think you wish me one day older; and egad, I’ll warrant them
that tries me, shall find me ne’er an hour too young.

La Nu. You mistake my Humour, I hate the Person of a fair conceited
Boy.

Enter _Willmore_ drest, singing.

Will. Vole, vole dans cette Cage,
Petite Oyseau dans cet bocage.

—How now, Fool, where’s the Doctor?

Shift. A little busy, Sir.

164
Will. Call him, I am in haste, and come to cheapen the Price of
Monster.

Shift. As how, Sir?

Will. In an honourable way, I will lawfully marry one of ’em, and have
pitcht upon the Giant; I’ll bid as fair as any Man.

Shift. No doubt but you will speed, Sir: please you, Sir, to walk in.

Will. I’ll follow—_Vole, vole dans cette Cage_, &c.

Luc. Why,’tis the Captain, Madam— [Aside to _Aria._

La Nu. Hah—marry—harkye, Sir,—a word, pray. [As he is going out she
pulls him.

Will. Your Servant, Madam, your Servant—_Vole, vole_, &c. [Puts his Hat
off carelesly, and walks by, going out.

Luc. And to be marry’d, mark that.

Aria. Then there’s one doubt over, I’m glad he is not married.

La Nu. Come back—Death, I shall burst with Anger—this Coldness blows my
Flame, which if once visible, makes him a Tyrant—

Will. Fool, what’s a Clock, fool? this noise hinders me from hearing it
strike. [Shakes his Pockets, and walks up and down.

La Nu. A blessed sound, if no Hue and Cry pursue it.—what—you are
resolv’d then upon this notable Exploit?

Will. What Exploit, good Madam?

La Nu. Why, marrying of a Monster, and an ugly Monster.

Will. Yes faith, Child, here stands the bold Knight, that singly, and
unarm’d, designs to enter the List with _Thogogandiga_ the Giant; a
good Sword will defend a worse cause than an ugly Wife. I know no
danger worse than fighting for my Living, and I have don’t this dozen
years for Bread.

La Nu. This is the common trick of all Rogues, when they have done an
ill thing to face it out.

165
Will. An ill thing—your Pardon, Sweet-heart, compare it but to
Banishment, a frozen Sentry with brown George and _Spanish_ Pay; and if
it be not better to be Master of a Monster, than Slave to a damn’d
Commonwealth—I submit—and since my Fortune has thrown this good in my
way—

La Nu. You’ll not be so ungrateful to refuse it; besides then you may
hope to sleep again, without dreaming of Famine, or the Sword, two
Plagues a Soldier of Fortune is subject to.

Will. Besides Cashiering, a third Plague.

La Nu. Still unconcern’d!—you call me mercenary, but I would starve
e’er suffer my self to be possest by a thing of Horror.

Will. You lye, you would by any thing of Horror: yet these things of
Horror have Beauties too, Beauties thou canst not boast of, Beauties
that will not fade; Diamonds to supply the lustre of their Eyes, and
Gold the brightness of their Hair, a well-got Million to atone for
Shape, and Orient Pearls, more white, more plump and smooth, than that
fair Body Men so languish for, and thou hast set such Price on.

Aria. I like not this so well, ’tis a trick to make her jealous.

Will. Their Hands too have their Beauties, whose very mark finds credit
and respect, their Bills are current o’er the Universe; besides these,
you shall see waiting at my Door, four Footmen, a Velvet Coach, with
Six _Flanders_ Beauties more: And are not these most comely Virtues in
a Soldier’s Wife, in this most wicked peaceable Age?

Luc. He’s poor too, there’s another comfort. [Aside.

Aria. The most incouraging one I have met with yet.

Will. Pox on’t, I grow weary of this virtuous Poverty. There goes a
gallant Fellow, says one, but gives him not an Onion; the Women too,
faith, ’tis a handsom Gentleman, but the Devil a Kiss he gets _gratis_.

166 Aria. Oh, how I long to undeceive him of that Error.

La Nu. He speaks not of me; sure he knows me not. [Aside.

Will. —No, Child, Money speaks sense in a Language all Nations
understand, ’tis Beauty, Wit, Courage, Honour, and undisputable
Reason—see the virtue of a Wager, that new philosophical way lately
found out of deciding all hard Questions—_Socrates_, without ready
Money to lay down, must yield.

Aria. Well, I must have this gallant Fellow. [Aside.

La Nu. Sure he has forgot this trival thing.

Will. —Even thou—who seest me dying unregarded, wou’d then be fond and
kind, and flatter me. [Soft tone.
By Heaven, I’ll hate thee then; nay, I will marry to be rich to hate
thee: the worst of that, is but to suffer nine Days Wonderment. Is not
that better than an Age of Scorn from a proud faithless Beauty?

La Nu. Oh, there’s Resentment left—why, yes faith, such a Wedding would
give the Town diversion: we should have a lamentable Ditty made on it,
entitled, The Captain’s Wedding, with the doleful Relation of his being
over-laid by an o’er-grown Monster.

Will. I’ll warrant ye I escape that as sure as cuckolding; for I would
fain see that hardy Wight that dares attempt my Lady Bright, either by
Force or Flattery.

La Nu. So, then you intend to bed her?

Will. Yes faith, and beget a Race of Heroes, the Mother’s Form with all
the Father’s Qualities.

La Nu. Faith, such a Brood may prove a pretty Livelihood for a poor
decay’d Officer; you may chance to get a Patent to shew ’em in
_England_, that Nation of Change and Novelty.

Will. A provision old _Carlo_ cannot make for you against the abandon’d
day.

La Nu. He can supply the want of Issue a better way; and tho he be not
so fine a fellow as your self, he’s a better 167 Friend, he can keep a
Mistress: give me a Man can feed and clothe me, as well as hug and all
to bekiss me, and tho his Sword be not so good as yours, his Bond’s
worth a thousand Captains. This will not do, I’ll try what Jealousy
will do. [Aside.] Your Servant, Captain—your Hand, Sir. [Takes
_Ariadne_ by the Hand.

Will. Hah, what new Coxcomb’s that—hold, Sir— [Takes her from him.

Aria. What would you, Sir, ought with this Lady?

Will. Yes, that which thy Youth will only let thee guess at—this—Child,
is Man’s Meat; there are other Toys for Children. [Offers to lead her
off.

La Nu. Oh insolent! and whither would’st thou lead me?