CHARLES THE SECOND
ACT FIRST.
Scene 1. The Royal Palace.
(Enter Rochester and Lady Clara.)
Lady C. Yes, my lord, her majesty will have it, that you are the chief cause of the king's irregularities.
Roch. Oh, I'll warrant it: and of his not loving her, too—is it not so?
Lady C. I did not say that; but, in truth, my lord, your continual jests on the married state—
Roch. Heaven bless it!
Lady C. Your continual ridicule of married men—
Roch. Heaven help them!
Lady C. Your licentious example, and still more licentious poetry—
Roch. What's coming next?
Lady C. All these, I say, make you the most dangerous of men.
Roch. Dangerous! My dear Lady Clara, you make me vain.
Lady C. It is well known that you are the king's prime companion in all his excesses.
Roch. What, is my loyalty to be made my reproach? Must I not stand by my monarch in all his moods? Would you have me weep, when my sovereign laughs? Would you have me whine, when my sovereign calls for a jolly song? No, no, my lady, that might have done in the days of Praise-God-Barebones and the Roundheads; but times are altered.—We have a merry monarch to reign over us—A merry monarch makes a merry court—so God save the jovial king, and send him boon companions!
Lady C. (Laughing.) I see it is in vain to reason with you.
Roch. Then give over the attempt.—Let us talk of something of a nearer and a dearer interest—of your merits and my most ardent flame.
Lady C. Ah, me! I fear, like many other of your flames, it will but end in smoke.—You talk of being desperately in love,—what proof have you ever given?
Roch. What proof? Am I not ready to give the greatest proof a man can offer—to lay down this sweet bachelor life, and commit matrimony for your sake?
Lady C. Well, this last, I must say, coming from a Rochester, is a most convincing proof. I have heard you out, listen now to me. (Rochester bows.) I will propose a bargain.—If, by your ascendancy over the king, you can disgust him with these nocturnal rambles, and bring him back to reason—
Roch. Your ladyship forgets one of my talents.
Lady. C. Which is it?
Roch. That of getting myself banished two or three times a year.
Lady C. And if the woman you profess to love should offer to partake your exile?—
Roch. I am a lost man—I surrender.—That last shot reached my heart.
Lady C. (Sighing.) Ah, my lord—if that heart were only worth your head!—Well, is it agreed?
Roch. It is your will—I undertake the sacrifice—but, madam, bear in mind my recompense.
Lady C. You may hope for everything. Adieu, my lord.—I now begin to believe in your passion, since you are willing to make a sacrifice to it, even of your follies.
(Exit.)
Roch. (Alone.) A pretty task I have undertaken, truly! I—Rochester—become reformer! And, then, the convert I have to work upon! Charles, who glories in all kinds of rambling frolics!—True, he has had none but pleasant adventures as yet.—If I should trick him into some ridiculous dilemma?—My whole life has been a tissue of follies, and I am called a man of wit. I am now to attempt a rational act, and I shall be called a madman!—Well, be it so—matrimony will be sure to bring me to my senses.
(Enter Edward, languidly.)
Roch. Ah! here comes my young protege—How downcast he seems! How now, Edward, what's the matter with you, boy?
Edw. (Sighing.) Nothing, my lord.
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