THE
She-Gallants.
Act the First.
SCENE I.
Company walking to and fro as in the Mall.
Enter Angelica and Constantia in Man's Apparel.
Disguise your Inclinations as you can,
Yet every Woman's business is a Man.
Cons. Notwithstanding the Poet's Opinion, I declare for my part, I wou'd have seen all Mankind at the Devil, before I'de have taken so much pains for any one of 'em.
Ang. Ah Constantia! when once a Woman has got a Man in her head ———
Cons. She never leaves till she has him———well, I say no more; but faith 'tis hard that Men should desert at this rate, and put us to such pains to bring 'em back to their Colours.
Ang. An old Roman, as I have read, began an Oration to this purpose: If we could break off all Communication with Women, we shou'd be freed from many Troubles Now, I say, if we Women wou'd renounce Mankind, we shou'd avoid many Evils, and be reveng'd for the part; for what cou'd they do without us?
Cons. Not so fast neither———Rather what cou'd we do without them?
Ang. It might be somewhat uneasy, I confess, but they wou'd have the worst on 't.
Cons. Not so much as you may imagine, for they have a thousand other Diversions: Nor, wou'd Love it self be altogether excluded; for in this wicked Age, a young, spruce, handsom Fellow, is become a Rival for a fine Woman. And I'le pawn my Breeches, and all that belongs to 'em, if in this Dress we are not as much courted by the Men themselves, as when we appear'd to be Women.
Ang. Fy, Constantia, thy Breeches have made thee strangely extravagant.
Cons. Why don't you see as we walk along, how they stop and look back—Demme' Jack, says one, a pretty young Fellow—By Jove as good as a Wench—And then a Lady with a languishing Cast, ogles over her shoulder, and whispers her Companion—I vow, my Dear, a most agreeable Creature. Upon my Reputation, such a Man is not at all my Aversion.
Ang. Of all the Conquests I have made in this habit, that which pleases me best, is my Adventure with my Lady Dorimen. It is, you know, to her Neece Lucinda, that my faithless Bellamour is to be marry'd; wherefore if lean but get into her Ladyship's Family, and have some power over her Inclinations, I hope to find an Expedient to break off a Match, which, if concluded, undoes me.
Cons. Exceeding Wife and Politick.
Ang. My trusty Friend and Counsellor in this Intrigue, (with Reverence be it spoken) is my own lewd old Father Sir Toby Cusifle, with whom thus disguis'd, I have contracted a particular Intimacy: Whoring and Pimping have been always his Occupation—The kind Offices he does of that sort, make him every where a welcom Person. He knows me not, nor indeed is it possible he shou'd, having left me at ten years old in the Country, at random, to the care of an old Nurse, and never seen, nor scarce enquir'd after me since.
Cons. A hopeful Father truly.
Ang. How unkind soever he has been, if by his assistance I can be so introduc'd to my Lady Dorimen, as to undermine Bellamour, and reclaim his Infidelity, he will then be a Father to me indeed; and I expect him here every minute, to give me some account of the progress he has made in it.
Cons. This Father of yours is a most necessary Man, and has likewise been particularly useful to me upon a like occasion; for, to confess the Truth to you freely, there is some other meaning in my wearing Breeches, besides keeping you company.
Ang. Indeed I always suspected some secret Self-Interest in your Disguise, you put it on so willingly: But may not a Friend be inquisitive, and ask your Secret?
Cons. Yes, and be told it. Know then, my dear Angelica, that tho' in publick I have been an Enemy declar'd to Love, yet we have held a private Correspondence together. And what may seem yet more Bizarre, the Man in the World whom I have always us'd worst, is he whom I have lov'd best. I know what Dissemblers are Men, and am resolv'd to enquire thorowly into my Lover, before I discover my Inclinations. If I find Frederick loves me sincerely, and is a Man of Honour, I will then explain my self in his favour: But if I prove him unworthy, my Aversion, that is now but Pretence, shall be real, and he shall never so much as suspect that I have had the least good thought of him.
Ang. This Caution is much to be prais'd, and the more, because it is so very unusual to love, and be discreet at the same time.
Cons. In pursuance therefore of this Design, I have already made a friendship with him, passing for my own Brother Courtall, whom every one knows to referable me so entirely, that we have often, by changing of habits, been mistaken the one for the other. Thus have I many opportunities to pry into his most secret affections, to examin his humour, and sound him to the bottom: But the Jest on't is, that he has propos'd a cross Match tome, proffering me the choice of his four Sisters, provided I will undertake to persuade Constantia to relent; to which I have agreed, and have accordingly made formal Address to all four.
Ang. How! to all four!
Cons. Yes, and am hugely diverted; for, you must know, their Brother has strictly instructed 'em to be wanting in no kind of encouragement: I never rise in a morning, but I find my Toilette cover'd with Presents, Rings, Bracelets, Perfumes, and a world of fine things; for which I make equal acknowledgments to all, and protest it most impossible to know which to chuse.
Ang. And are you not very malicious, to triumph in this manner over the weakness of your own Sex? Besides, what can this exposing the Sisters, profit any thing with the Brother?
Cons. O let me alone to manage it; if I fail in my Ends, I'll be bound to renounce my Petticoats for ever, and never to find anything more substantial in Breeches than what you can give me: for your Plot I don't see how it can fail, for faith I cou'd be in love with you my self, but that I know your Credentials are counterfeit, and 'tis a false Pass which you shew.
Ang. Prithee tell me truly, what manner of a Man do I make?
Cons. A very Spark, upon Honour; and, to all outward appearances, as much a Man as the best. Any thing that's well Periwig'd, and Powder'd, and Steenkirk'd, and Embroider'd, is a Man. Singing and Dancing, and Dress, is Breeding. Noise, Familiarity, and Impertinence, is Wit. Whistling to one's self—as thus—or taking Snuff gravely—as thus—passes for Thought, and serious Consideration: And all this put together, is a Man.
Ang. At least as much as is necessary for us two at this time—But however one is a little Awkard at first—How do I walk?
Cons. Ha, an Air fieré & determinée———
Ang. And then my Legs, Constantia.
Cons. 'Tis true, the Ladies love good Supporters—They'll do, they'll do, 'Sbud fear nothing.
Ang. Why how now Bully, what, thou swear'st too?
Cons. Damm your Winnings and Formalities: "Confound me, Madam, I adore you; Thunder rivet me, I must enjoy you"—How much better this founds than—"Durst I presume, Madam; or might I be permitted"—Zoons how many a modest Fool has lost his Longing, for want of Damming, Sinking, and Confounding handsomly, and like a Gentleman.
Ang. Peace, Madcap—here comes my old bawdy Father, according to appointment.
Enter Sir Toby, who runs and embraces them.
Sir Toby. My Ganimed—My Hylas—
Ang. My Jupiter.
Cons. My Hercules.
Sir Toby. My dear little Sparks of Love, let me kiss ye. You're lucky Rogues both—Wrapt in your Mothers Smocks Begad—There's not a Lady in Town but lies at your mercy—(to Ang.) For your part, my little Cupid, my Lady Dorimen's your own, the least Thrust throws her flat e'gad, just you know how—I met her this minute, and she gave me such Look, such sweet Ogles, as thus d'ye see, and thus; so very dying e'gad, it made my heart ake to see it.
Ang. Alas! poor Lady—If she languishes in earnest, she knows her Remedy, Sir Toby.
Sir Toby. And that's heartily said i' faith: Well, she for a willing Mistress, and old Toby for a hearty Pimp, I'll say't we are the best in Christendom: But hark—I had like to have forgot—This 'tis to have so much Occupation at a time—(to Cons.) see here my Mark—Anthony.
This curious Web, where all their Fancies shine.
Your four Mistresses beg you to accept of this Bracelet, 'tis the work of all four, compos'd of their own hairs, and wrought with their own hands.
Cons. A thousand Thanks, dear Sir Toby—all your Offices are friendly.
Sir Toby. Hush! hush! who comes here? what, a Swarm of Beaux and Froes?
My Lord, your Lordship's—Madam, your most obedient—That's my little Lord Wagsan—That's fine Mrs. Wrigglebum.
Vaun. Ha, Chevalier Jerny, dear Rogue, let me kiss thee.
Sir J. Airy. Dear Toby, let me kiss thee. Thou'lt excuse me, Geddemme', that I don't stay with thee, but the Ladies would never forgive me: Let me go this once, and I'll make what haste I can to come to thee again, beged'.[Exeunt singing.
Sir Toby. Let thee go? Who the Devil keeps thee.—
Ang. What Fools are those, Sir Toby?
Sir Toby. Such Fools as are to be seen, but not to be describ'd; adzooks, the Town swarms with them; one is call'd Vaunter, and the other Sir John Airy, Fops, with great Estates; Cullies to the Women, and Bubbles to the Men.—But who have we here.—Ay, 'tis she her self by Jove.—My Lady Dorimen in propria Persona, with her Neice Lucinda; and just behind 'em, my little Courtall, your four Cleopatra's; stay you and meet them, while we follow my Lady Dorimen.—Make your best Leg,—bow, bow, and let her pass, we'll catch her the next turn.—Now follow,—adzooks, I love Pimping dearly.
- [Lady Dorimen, Lucinda, Placket cross over the Stage; Sir Toby and Angelica follow.]
Enter Diana, Melissa, Dorinda, and Miranda; Constantia joyns them with the Bracelet in her Hand.
| Cons. |  |
As Nature them, so they this Shade have wrought, |
| repeating, |  |
Soft as their Hand, and various as their Thought. |
And did you think my Heart, Ladies, not enough your own, before that you have lent me this pretty Chain to bind it faster.
Diana. The Ladies who sent you that Bracelet, sure meant it for a Reproach, and not for a Favour; and it seems to say, Unconstant Man, can no one Colour please you?
Cons. Truly, Madam, I made a more favourable Interpretation, and concluded, that the Ladies, who have been so kind to present me their Hair, meant to deliver up their Strength with it.
Mel. You Men interpret every thing with vanity to your selves.
Cons. Alas, Madam, take away Hope and Vanity, you kill us; they are the Cordials that kind Nature has provided for our Comfort upon all occasions of Disgrace and Discouragement.
Dor. If Vanity could keep you alive, the Men of this Age are so stock'd, they would be Immortal.
Dia. Really, Sister, we give our Lover too many occasions to feed his Vanity, see how plump and ruddy it keeps him.
Mel. Let us resolve then for the future, to be seen only in frowns.
Dia. Till we make him look like a Lover in earnest.
Mir. A Lover in earnest would be a strange sight indeed.
Dor. As strange as many other things that are often discours'd of, but never seen.
Dia. Love is the pretence of all Mankind, as common in their Mouths,———
Mir. As Snush in their Noses;———
Dor. But is never to be found in their Hearts.
Mel. Besides, Men are grown such self-enamour'd things, that they neither like nor love any thing but themselves.
Cons. And what is the whole World sway'd by, but self-affection; the Courtier sides with the great Man in hopes of Preferment; the great Man is diligent about his Prince, because he rises by him; and there is scarce a Priest who serves God, but for the sake of a Benefice.
Dor. Pray, are not your Lovers the same? for when a Man pretends a Passion; what is it he intends but to content his own Desires? You seek not to give, but to receive Pleasure, and that you call Love.—Love of your selves, indeed.
Mir. The Friendship, Loyalty, Religion, and Love of Men serve only to cover private Ends.
Dia. And the Virtues of Mankind are all but Vices in disguise.
Cons. Very smart and satyrical; 'tis pity Ladies, but this humour of Bitterness were encouraged; what say you to an extempore Lampoon by word of Mouth upon the whole Mall?
All Women. With all our hearts.
Dia. Really nothing so diverting, as to rail at Folks behind their Racks.
Cons. See yonder for the Purpose, a Legion of Lords and Ladies tossing their Heads, and jetting their Tails;—let's follow, and be exceeding severe.
All Women. We'll not spare a Man.
Cons. Nor I a Woman.[Exeunt.
Enter Lucinda and Placket.
Lucin. We'll take a turn or two by our selves: my Aunt is among the Men, and won't miss us. Did you deliver the Note I sent to Bellamour?
Plac. Yes, Madam, but I vow it went against my heart.
Lucin. The truth is, he has been so arrogant of late, especially since he thought there were no longer any Obstacles to our Marriage, that I begin to be tir'd of him; and when a Woman begins to be tir'd of a Man whilst he is a Lover, she has but little encouragement to take him for a Husband.
Plac. But there is this to be consider'd, Madam, you have your Aunt's Instructions to love him; you have given him your self great Encouragement; the whole Town has talkt of it, and what can you expect the World will think?
Lucin. Why let it think; this fear of the World destroys all the satisfactions of a Woman's Life: Hang the World, a Woman that minds what the World thinks or says, had better never have been in the World.
Plac. But what can be the reason of this sudden alteration?
Lucin. I confess the absence of Philobel had almost made me forget him, and I began insensibly to feel a kind of Inclination for Bellamour: If my old Lover had not return'd, I might have made my new one the happy Man; but since I hear Philabel came last night to Town, I find my self more inclin'd to my first Promise than my last, and in this have only acted like a Woman of the Age; if one Lover had fail'd, I entertain'd another in case of necessity.
Plac. Then you are resolv'd to break with poor Mr. Bellamour.
Lucin. Not absolutely break with him, but suspend my Resolution till I know how Philabel continues inclin'd; for as I told you before, I must not lose both; and tho' the uneasiness and jealousy of Bellamour's Temper has loft him some part of my good Will, he is yet in the Balance.
Plac. Well, I vow Madam, methinks nothing's so pleasing as to see one's Lover jealous; sometimes in Fury, then presently at your Feet; now raging to part, then submissive for a Reconciliation; for, what's a Woman's pow'r, unless she could matter a Lover of all Humours?
Lucin. Yes, I would master him: I would have my Lover my Slave; a thing cast to please and obey me; like my Glove, to draw on or off as I think fitting; but then this Lover must not be jealous; that Chews too much like a Contention for the Mastery; every Look and Action is to be enquir'd into, and a strict account exacted of all that's done or said. No, give me the Lover that's free, who never pries into my Affairs, who has his Secrets, and lets me have mine; for so all private Reck'nings are handsomely discharg'd, no matter for the rest, that's the Husband for me.
Plac. But while you suffer so much main Stock to be spent abroad, there must needs run a great deal behind-hand to you. Lord! I should be so sorry to see you pick up a Husband from a Side-box at a Play, or the Gallery in St. James's Church, and so after the first year be forc'd to live in the Fleet, or the King's Bench.
Lucin. And why not, rather than marry a dull, fat Fool, with a great Estate, whose Faculties are all choak'd up with Flegm; a Lump, whose only sign of Life is sweating; we may melt his Grease, but not extract one wholesome Drop out of him.—No, give me a Man without a Fortune, rather than a Fortune without a Man. I had rather beg with a brisk, lively, young Fellow, than reign with a heavy, bloated, overgrown Blockhead.
Plac. Your Aunt, Madam.
Enter Lady Dorimen, Sir Toby, Angelica, as in discourse.
Lady Dor. Your Wits are never seen in publick with their Wives; 'tis become a point of Scandal, and passes for Demonstration of a Fool.
Sir Toby. To be seen with a Wife, may be one Demonstration; to have a Wife, adzooks, is another.
Ang. Sir Toby, you have been marri'd your self, as great an Antagonist to Marriage as you pretend to be; and as I have heard, was so pious a Husband, that in Honour to your Wives Memory, you spent a Thousand pounds in her Funeral.
Sir Toby. Yes, Sweat-heart, for Joy, and would have spent five times that Sum to have purchas'd so glorious a Day.
Ang. Methinks you should at least express more respect for a Condition of Life, which this young Lady has determin'd so suddenly to make Choice of for her self.
Lucin. Not so fully determin'd, Sir, but I shall take some time to consider of it.
Lady Dor. Sir Toby, if you please, a word with you in private.
Ang. [to Lucin.] This would be very ill news, Madam, for Mr. Bellamour, whose impatience must needs be great to be possess'd of so much happiness.
Enter Bellamour, observing them.
Lucin. I am not. I assure you, in such haste for a Husband, as to venture any part of my own repose to satisfy Mr. Bellamour's impatience.
Bell. [coming up.] And do you think it such a venture, Madam?
Luc. There is no judging of Men, Mr. Bellamour, by what they appear to be, while they Court us.
Bell. Give me leave, Madam, to add, nor of Women, while they are courted (softly to her) at least unconstant Woman, if I may compare your former Encouragements, with your indifference to Day.
Lady Dor. But are you sure he is such a one, as a Lady may with safety repose her Honour in his hands?
Sir Toby. Her Honour, ay, adzooks, or any thing else that she has.
[To Ang.] Hark ye, young Gentleman, my Lady desires to know if you are a Gamester; she wants a Man sometimes to pass an Evening, or so, at Piquette.—You understand me.
Ang. You might have answer'd for me; I'll never stick out at any Games my Lady shall propose.
Sir Toby. Look ye, Madam, he will never stick out; and adzooks, I think that's as much as any reasonable Woman can desire.
Lady Dor. Sir Toby, shall I venture my self a turn with you and your Friend alone: Neice, you won't be angry to be left with Mr. Bellamour, your Servant; we shall meet the next turn.
Bell. Yes, Women are unintelligible to the most piercing and quick-sighted: Nothing is sincere in whatever they say or do: They are all Artifice and Disguise; resolving and altering without Sence or Reason; nothing is constant either in their Minds, or in their Bodies. As these are a Prey to Age and Infirmities, so are those to every frivolous Interest and idle Temptation. Their Love is never so firm and well-establish'd, but it is sacrific'd every hour to their Folly, or their Pride.———
Lucin. Enough, enough, Mr. Bellamour,—if these are your Opinions of our Sex, how are you to be believ'd, when you say you love us? For how can any thing so deform'd, as you describe Women, be belov'd?
Bell. There is a secret Enchantment in your Persons, that bewitches us to our own Destruction.—Inconstant Lucinda, after so many obliging Encouragements! Why was this cruel Letter sent me this morning.
READS.
You have been too confident of my Consent; presume no longer on my Aunts Authority: My Heart is yet my own, and while it continues so, my Person shall never be dispos'd of.—Come not near me to day.
Speaks.] Why am I thus abus'd?
Lucin. Come not near me to day.—Mark that command. Why am I disobey'd?
Bell. If any mistake has happen'd to cause this Alteration, or if in ought unknowing I've transgrest, may I not be permitted to clear my Innocence?
Lucin. To make your self more guilty, is that to clear your Innocence? I will have you take notice, that I expect to be obey'd in every trifle: Let my Commands seem never so unjust or unreasonable, I say, I will be obey'd; nor will I have my Lover dare to examine the reason of what I do, but submit patiently, and expect with Resignation: While I am your Mistress, learn to behave your self like my Vassal; when I am your Wife, you may have your Revenge.
Sir Toby. Well, I'll say't, of a Critick, my Lady Dorimen's the Critick of Criticks.
Bell. [aside to Luc.] There is a secret Mystery in your Words and Actions, that must be explain'd,—but this is no time for it,—your Company returns.—I know not how to suspect your Virtue, and therefore I entreat you, Madam, if I have in any thing ignorantly offended, condemn me not unheard.[Bows, and is going.
Lady Dor. Stealing off: Mr. Bellamour, do we drive you away?
Bell. I beg your Ladiship to excuse me, I will wait on you the next turn.
Lady Dor. Neice, What have you been doing to Mr. Bellamour? he seem'd to leave us in a strange Disorder.
Ang. He looks already with the careful Face of a Marry'd Man.
Lucin. He's in one of his splenatick Fits: 'Tis an Affectation the Men have got to disguise ill Humour, and ill Manners.
Ang. See, he's return'd, and is whispering with your Maid.
Sir Toby. Giving her some private Directions, Madam, where you may see the Pearl Necklace, the Diamond Lockets and Pendants, and the Plate for your Toilet that are to be presented upon the Wedding-day.
Ang. That if there is any thing amiss, such Alterations may be made before-hand as are suitable to your own Fancy.
Lucin. Rather bribing my Maid, to discover to him who are my Visitants, what Correspondences I keep, and a thousand such a jealous enquiries.
Plac. He a Rival! what shou'd my Mistress do with such a Whiffler? He signifies no more to a Woman, than a Fly to a Camel.
Bell. Mrs. Plackett, repose entirely upon your Sincerity, and shall gratefully reward all your Services.
Lady Dor. Plackett come hither; what has Mr. Bellamour been whispering to you?
Plac. Nothing, Madam, but only to know whether my young Lady designs for the Play or the Park, that he may accordingly order his business to be where she is to be ogl'd.
Lady Dor. Some such amorous Enquiry I durst have sworn—Neice, is not our time come to be going?
Lucin. When your Ladyship pleases.
Ang. The Park, Madam, is still full—
Lady Dor. An invincible Necessity obliges us at this time.
Ang. That Invincible Necessity is Infinitely Disobliging.
Sir Toby. We must not part, Madam, but at your Coach-side.
Ang. Sir Toby, you are one of thole happy Men who have leave to go any where with the Ladies.
Sir Toby. Ay Child, they'll let me go as far as their Lap-Dogs or Squirrels, the Doctor or the Midwife. Alas! I may peep where I please: An Old Man is like a Beast tam'd, my Paw frights no Body.
[Exeunt, leading the Ladies.]
The End of the First Act.