ACT the Second.
SCENE I.
The Scene of the PARK continues.
Enter Frederick, Diana, Melissa, Dorinda, and Miranda.
Fred.Love is an universal Invader: Whatever Women pretend, they are all sensible alike; the best Livers as much as the loosest Prostitutes; only with this difference, thole whom we call Virtuous and Chaste, have more Pride, or a greater force of Dissimulation.
Dia. Really, Brother, you're a strange Man: I say 'tis impossible for a Woman to be in Love, and I'll maintain it.
Mel. In Love! Lord, with what! with a filthy Man! Phogh.
Dor. With a stiff Beard, that fetches Blood with every Kiss.
Mel. A great pot Belly, a broad Back, and huge Legs and Arms, enough to squeeze one to pieces.
Fred. There is another sort of Man, my good Sisters, that, perhaps, may not be so disagreeable: I mean your smooth Beaux, who's as tender and gentle as any Lady; always trickt and perfum'd like a Lady; and were it not for his Breeches, a very Lady.
Dia. Really I should as soon have a Passion fer a Shadow.
Mir. Truly, Sifters, methinks you're too nice; I have seen very proper handsom Men of all sorts and sizes.
Dia. Really, Sister, such a Confession do's not become the mouth of one who values her Reputation.
Mel. Men are odious Creatures I vow, and I'll live and die in the Assertion.
Fred. Young Courtall will soon make Proselytes of you all.
Dia. He! Harmless insignificant Thing.
Fred. One of you, if you love me, must love him. I have already told you how passionately I adore his Sister, and that he has promis'd to put me in possession of her, when ever one of you four will content to be his Wife. Upon this Article depends my Life and Happiness; if not perform'd, I am miserable; but if perform'd, am blest forever.
Dia. To save a Brother's life, really much shou'd be done; but, I vow, a Man is strangely my Aversion.
Mel. True, Sister; but when a Brother's Life's in Jeopardy.
Fred. Today he has promis'd to determine which of the four is most his inclination; wherefore I beseech her, whom ever it is he fixes upon, to confider she has a Brother's Life and Fortune in her hands.
Dia. If I am the Person, really I cannot agree to it, unless you confess that you are verily persuaded that I consent out of pure Love and Kindness to you, and not any Carnal Affection to the Man—And I don't at all doubt but I am the Person.
Mel. You the Person?
Dor. Sure he has more Wit than to chuse the Oldest.
Dia. The Oldest? You insipid Creature———
Fred. Pray cease these untimely Dissentions.
Enter a Boy to Frederick.
Boy. Mr. Courtall Sir, is at your Honour's house, and has directed me to acquaint the young Ladies, that he will wait there till they have done walking.
Fred. Tell him they are coming———[Exit Boy.
Your Lover is waiting for you at home; I find he cannot be very disagreeable to you, since you are so ready to quarrel for him.
Dia. For him! Really, Brother, if you think so, I will concern my self no more in this Affair; my Sisters might fall out for the Man, but I vow my Disorder proceeded from nothing but an inordinate desire to be the Instrument of your happiness.
Fred. Pray no more words—Go home, agree among your selves, and make me happy, by making Courtall so.
How awkardly we strive to conceal our Passions![Solus.
And how apparent is the Love of these Women, in spight of their affected Aversion! It is as hard to hide True Love, as it is to dissemble Feign'd.[Exit.
Enter Sir John Aery and Vaunter.
Sir J. Aery. Lucinda to be marry'd to Bellamour! Geddemme, as I hope to be sav'd, sure she won't serve me so: But hang't, all Women are Jilts, and I don't care this pinch of Snuff who has her.
Vaun. Nor I, Beged; for I have taken pains to make the Town believe I have had her, and, Beged, that's all I desire with any Woman.
Sir J Aery. And, Demme, she has made me believe a thousand times that I shou'd have her; for by all the great Geds and the little, she never sees me, but she laughs full in my face; and if to smile is a sign of being pleas'd, Beged to laugh is at least as much again.
Vaun. Well interpreted, dear Sir Jecky, Beged; for where ever I go, I observe every body laugh, and I always us'd to take it for an Affront.
Sir J. Aery. That's very foolish, Geddemme: Now, I never take any thing for an Affront. If a Man calls me Son of a Whore, Beged I always take it for a mark of familiarity and kindness. If any one kicks, or gives me a Box on the Ear, I take it all in good part. A very good Jest, i'faith, and i laugh till I hold my sides.
Vaun. Thou'rt i'th' right, Beged; for why the Devil shou'd I suppose any Man would affront a Man of my parts? Beged, 'tis less'ning one's self, and I thank thee, dear Jecky, from my Soul, for reforming me in this Error: But prithee tell me, dear Aery, didst thou ever speak to Lucinda, that she has ever given such hopes?
Sir J. Aery. Speak to her, Geddemme, No: Was ever any thing so foolish? What signifies speaking? If speaking wou'd do, why none but Men of Sense wou'd be happy; and when the Devil didst thou ever know a Man of Sense well receiv'd by a Woman?
Vaun. That's true, by all the great Geds and the little; for I have observ'd all my life, that my Gilt Coach and Six Horses, and Footmen in Lace-Liveries, have got me more Women, than all my fine Speeches; and, Beged, I know what to say too as well as another.
Sir J. Aery. Geddemme, Paux there is more Rhetorick in a Tune on the Flute passionately play'd, or a Song languishingly humour'd, than in all Cicero. And tho' I can speak Sense as well as another, yet, Demme, I'm too well bred to offend the Ladies—But prithee, dear Vaunter, tell me how thou hast made the Town believe thou hast had Lucinda; for, Beged, that's a pretty sort of Vanity that I shou'd be exceeding fond of.
Vaun. Why, Beged, no otherwise than thus: At Church, I always sit in the same Pew; at the Play, in the same Box; at the Musick-meeting, I contrive to be the next Man to her, and never fail to lead her out upon all these occasions. In the Park, I turn as she turns; I go out, when she goes out; I drive by her Coach, then stop, and go softly, till she goes by again; then I gallop, Beged, till I overtake her once more; and so twenty times together, ogling like a Devil, till I see where she alights, there I alight too; and, Beged, she never makes a Visit, but I am up Stairs as soon as she. The World takes notice of these Assiduities, and being always glad of any opportunity to defame, my happiness is everywhere publisht; my Friends give me joy of my success, which I receive with an O Gad, why shou'd you think so? What can a Woman see in me?This Town is a strange place, that a man can do nothing in secret, Geddemme, I can't imagin how this came to be found out; for, beged, I took all the care in the World to be discreet, but these foolish Women always betray themselves—And so, Geddemme, half avowing, and half denying, I palm my self upon a Woman———
Sir J. Aery. That wou'd sooner spit in thy face, than let thee kiss her—
Vaun. Ha! Ha! Ha! Right, Geddemme, as I hope to be sav'd, by all the great Geds and the little, and a very good Jest it is; and thus I got the Name of the Ladies fine Gentleman.
Sir J. Aery. But prithee, dear Vaunter, wilt not thou look like an Ass, when the world knows another man has got thy suppos'd Mistress from thee?
Vaun. Demme not at all, for I'll swear I gave my consent, and that the Fool has nothing but my leavings; and that I was seeking some handsom occasion to get rid of her, and, beged, you know the Town is always ready to believe any ill that's said of a Woman: But however, Geddemme, if I cou'd meet with this Bellamour, I shou'd be provok'd to forbid the Banes, beged, by mincing the Dog to Atoms.
Sir J. Aery. Say'st thou so, Bully-Rock, beged yonder he comes—And but that it wou'd not be like men of Honour for two to fall upon one, I'd stay and help thee; so, dear Vaunter, fare thee well.
Vaun. Demme, Aery, thou wilt not leave me so—See, there comes a spruce Prigg with him, that thou shalt mince.
Sir J. Aery. I'm heartily sorry, dear Vaunter, that I can't serve thee; but, Beged, I engag'd my person but last Night to a great Lady for all this day, and my person not being my own at this time, dear Rogue, you must needs excuse me. Besides, my Lady Gobble tipt me the Wink just now to follow her.
Vaun. Now I think better on't, why a Devil shou'd I make a noise of this matter? that wou'd look to the world like resenting some disappointment; and, Demme, I scorn the world shou'd think I was ever disappointed—But I'll tell thee what I'll do better. I'll write her a Letter by the Penny-Post, that shall give such a Character of him as shall infallibly do his business; so, dear Aery, let's about it, and then come back, and rally the poor Dog to death.[Exeunt.
Enter Bellamour and Angelica.
Bell. Women grow troublesom when they are so fond: Your Cousin Angelica might have spar'd you this trouble; I'd as live see a Ghost, as receive a remembrance from a Cast Mistress.
Ang. You say you lov'd her once, and it is by that Love she now conjures you not to give way to any other: Passion which will make her desperate, and you perjur'd.
Bell. I shou'd be sorry to make a Lady desperate; but if to change a Mistriss is Perjury, who is innocent?
Ang. What Reason can you give for your change?
Bell. Faith none at all: Our Inclinations are our Masters, and we wander but as our Stars lead us; if they are false Lights, and shew us out of the way, let them answer for't. It was my fortune to see Angelica, and to love her. It was my fortune to be absent from her, and to forget her: What is there new in all this? I confess she has Beauty and Wit, and I wish her a great deal of Happiness; but there is a Luck which over-rules all, the deserving are not always the successful.
Ang. Sure Fortune will never side with Falshood and Perjury———
Bell. O you mistake Fortune: Fortune is, as it were, an Hospital for Villany and Folly, where all are provided for, whom Nature has maim'd and disfigur'd. Mark every rude unpolish'd Owl you meet, he's sure to be some Minion of Fortune's; and every nauseous ill-favour'd Hagg, is not her Name a Fortune? The Children of this World have all different Portions; some have Wit, others Beauty: But where there is no Merit to be found, those have Fortune, which is the Cordial Drop prescrib'd by Providence to comfort 'em, for the severity and unkindness of Nature.
Ang. And so by consequence, because my Cousin Angelica has some merit, therefore she must be unfortunate.
Bell. Besides, to confess the truth, I cannot but think two years Absence has made as great an Alteration in her, as in me: Women are seldom behind hand with us, and two years was time enough for a Woman to have chang'd two dozen of Lovers.
Ang. And is this the best Answer she is to expert from you?
Bell. It is. Yet, if you please, you may give it some kinder turn: I would not deal too roughly with one whom I had once lov'd, and whose Beauty and Virtues I still adimre; therefore, pray, chuse the gentlest terms you can to comfort her, and advise her to forget one who cannot but confess he has been ungrateful.
Ang. And if 'tis possible, she shall hate as much as ever she lov'd you.
Bell. Not hate me: I would not have her hate me, only not love so much; and not injure her self by any extravagance of Passion, nor by any over-fondness be burthensome to me.
Enter Sir J. Aery and Vaunter.
Sir J. Aery. Ha, Bellamour! Give thee Joy, dear Rogue; give thee Joy. The Town says thou'rt going to be marry'd, 'tis talk'd of, Geddemme, by every body at the Chocolate-house.
Vaun. By all the great Geds, and the little, is the Man possest, to condemn himself for all the Days and Nights of his Life to one body; to be bound never to change her, tho' she change never so much, tho' she grows never so old, so odious, so stinking, and ill-favour'd, phogh, Geddemme, to live under an eternal Persecution?
Sir J. Aery. Let me be torn by wild Horses, wrack'd alive, bury'd quick; but save me, Heaven, save me from this Holy Inquisition, call'd Marriage, beged.
Ang. aside. These Fools for once may be useful; I'll encourage the humour.—Do not you know, Mr. Bellamour, that let the Person be never so lovely, or so much belov'd, as soon as she becomes your Wife; the Charm ends? Like enchanted Palaces that we approach with admiration, but in the instant when we think we are entring into Paradise, we find our selves in some dark Dungeon inhabited by Toads and Adders.
Sir J. Aery. Do not you know, Geddemme, that let a Person be never so much an Angel before Enjoyment, she is the Devil afterwards?
Ang. Perhaps, by the continual presence of the Person, by considering her deliberately, and examining her in all Lights, we find many things wanting to our first Expectation. Perhaps a quiet and peaceable Enjoyment of any thing makes it the less valued: Or it may, be, by a frequent and customary Commerce, the Pleasures of the Sence lose their quickness and vivacity.
Vaun. Women are Riddles, Geddemme, past all expounding.
Ang. To day they are one thing.
Sir J. Aery. To morrow another.
Vaun. Constant to nothing.
Ang. A Compound of Whimsies, toss'd to and fro by as many Humours, as the Ocean by Winds.
Sir J. Aery. Geddemme, there is no Woman's mind, but is past a Man's understanding.
Vaun. There is no being certain of what is always uncertain, beged.
Ang. And in a Country full of Precipices, who but Mad-men will leap blindfold? In a word, I can imagine no such lively Emblem of Marriage, as the Punishment for Parricides among the Ancients; where the offender was low'd into a Bag with a Monkey, a Dog, and a Serpent; these three Companions truly represent the Character of a Wife; who is an eternal Chatterer, and full of tricks like a Monkey; or howling and snarling like a Dog; or with a forked Tongue and invenom'd Teeth, Ringing and biting like a Serpent.
Sir J. Aery. But perhaps the poor Dog has a mind to a Son and Heir, and to see himself growing up in a little Monkey-fac'd Representative; but, hark ye, my dear Friend Bell. take this saying of the Poet's along with you, and treasure it up;
To get a wise Successor, strives;
But one, and he a Fool, survives. Geddemme.
Bell. Gentlemen, I thank you; I was once beginning to be very angry, but I find so much reason in your Remonstrances, that I esteem my self much oblig'd to you. The Counsel of Fools is not to be despis'd when 'tis good; and so your Servant.[Exit Bellamour.
Sir J. Aery. Geddemme', Fools! who do's the unmannerly Puppy mean?
Vaun. Beged, not me; for all the World knows I am none.
Ang. I am much mistaken, Gentlemen, if he did not mean you both. (aside) Two such Originals I never saw.
Sir J. Aery. Demme, a very smart Lad.—Dear Rogue, let me kiss thee.
Vaun. Ay, dear Rogue, let me kiss thee, for thou and I must be better acquainted. Beged, thou'rt a Rump-Jewel for a Prince.
Ang. By your leave, Gentlemen, these Lips are reserv'd for better occasions.
Sir J. Aery. Ah, le petit Malitieux! I never saw a Steenkirk better put on.
Enter Sir Toby and Philabel.
Vaun. Sir Toby Cusifle, my most Illustrious Patron, great Master of the Mysteries of Pimperlimpimp, Geddemme', your humble Servant.
Sir J. Aery. My dear Brother Knight Baronet, your humble Servant, beged.
Sir Toby. Adzookers, when I have such Servants, they shall never be seen without broken heads.
Sir J. Aery. A very good Jest; by the great Geds and the little.—Let me kiss thee.
Sir Toby. Stand off you Cur,—thy Breath smells farther than a Brick-kiln.
Sir J. Aery. Demme', thou'rt so plaguy witty.—But, what Fool do'st think I have been rallying to Death?
Sir Toby. I see no Fool, adzooks, here, but Vaunter.
Sir J. Aery. No, Demme, a greater Fool than Vaunter.
Sir Toby. Thy self.
Sir J. Aery. Thou'lt make me angry one time or other with these true Jests, Geddemme.
Sir Toby. Geddemme thou li'st, thou can'st not be angry.
Sir J. Aery. Nay, prithee don't be so damnable witty: Pox, I hate these Jests that make one's Sides ake without Laughing.
Ang. Spare him, good Sir Toby, for this time, he has been lately very useful.
Sir J. Aery. By your leave, Geddemme, I'll tell my own Merits. You must know then, Bellamour has been here; poor Fellow, how we rally'd him; never was Dog with a Bottle at his Tail so persecuted: For as you know, and as all the Town knows, for if 'twere a Secret no body should know, and how it came not to be a Secret, Geddemme if I know; for upon these occasions I am always Mum;—but Women, beged, are strange indiscreet Things, and a Man can't be always stopping their Mouths, Geddemme.———
Vaun. Dear Rogue, now I adore him, he speaks like an Angel, beged.
Sir J. Aery. As I was saying then, to omit all farther Tropes and Figures, Circumstance of Elocution, and Flower of Circumlocution.—Bellamour is going to be married to Lucinda.—Now this Lucinda, beged, Vaunter and I have had twenty times.—
Vaun. Ay, beged, a thousand, whenever we thougt fit, by the great Geds and the little.
Phil. Why, you Brace of Toads, whose Breath is poyson.
Sir Toby. Ye Vermine, that live by gnawing upon the Reputation of Ladies.—[They beat 'em.
Sir J. Aery and Vaunter. Demme, no more of these Jests, or we'll keep you Company no longer.[They run out.
Phil. Rascals,—Vipers.———
How unhappy are Women, whose Fame depends on the Breath of such Fools!
Sir Toby. Rather unhappy, adzooks, for trusting their Fame with such Fools. And now, Noble Collonel, give me leave to present you to this young Friend of mine;—a pretty Fellow, as you see, and worth a better acquaintance. This my little Spark of Love, is Collonel Philabel, a brave metled Fellow, newly arrived from Flanders, where he has been most Heroickly, adzooks, learning to ride—the Flying-horse in a Dutch Troop.
Phil. I shall be glad of your Acquaintance, Sir, and desire to be look'd upon as your Friend.
Sir Toby. Pox o' Speeches,—Kiss you Rogues,—Kissing makes the best Friends;—one Kiss is worth half a dozen Speeches; Pox o' Speeches,—would 'twere a Girl, old Phil. gad I'd hold the Door, tho' 'twere my own Daughter.
Ang. Well said old Iniquity.—Thou hast nick'd it, if thou knew'st all.
Phil. Now Gentlemen, that I may not be absolutely a Stranger to this Town, instruct me how this Side of the World is alter'd since I left it; What are the Diversions in Vogue? How do the Men behave themselves? And how are the Ladies to be govern'd?
Sir Toby. Why, faith, the Men are as abominable Rogues as ever, always Drunk, and always Pox'd, begad; nothing is heard of but Tavern-brawls and Midnight Rapes and Murders; nothing to be met but Sharpers and Cullies, Pickpockets and Politicians, Cutpurses and Lawyers; Parsons that point out Roads they ne're go; Physicians that prescribe what they never take; Courtiers that promise what they never perform; Colonels that tell of Battels they never saw; Beauxs that lye with Women they never could come near; Pocky Lords, Bloated Commoners, and Pale-fac'd Catamites.
Phil. Most illustriously sum'd up;—but the Women, Sir Toby, the Women.
Sir Toby. Why, of them too, there are of all sorts, good and bad.—Good, did I say, very few good, but very Devout, and great frequenters of St. James's Church; whoever goes that Road, can't fail of Heaven, at least of Heavenly Joys.
Phil. None are so Devout, I hope, as to renounce the Pleasures and Conventions of the World.
Sir Toby. No, ne'er trouble your self, the Saints themselves have failings; human Flesh is frail. So you lift up one hand to Heaven, you may lift up the Petticoat with t'other: Let their Heads be never so full of Devotion, the Devil is sure to be in their Tails.
Phil. But which are the ways most in practice and observ'd to be most prevailing over their frailty?
Sir Toby. Why Money, adzooks, nothing like Money; be free of your Purse, and your Presents, your Settlements, and your Jointures, and you may be as free as you please, with whom you please: All, all are Danaes, by this Light; and the Golden Ravisher is never deni'd entrance.
Phil. This indeed is a great incroachment upon Love: In matters of Love, Love only should prevail.
Sir Toby. Thus we have been so long ill us'd by the Sex: There are so many Examples of Estates Mortgag'd, and honest Fellows undone by their Treachery and Expensiveness, that we begin to leave 'em off, and resolve to stick to one another. For my own part, I am resovl'd not to care one farthing for the Sex more, not I, igad, Bacchus shall have all my Gold.
Phil. And Venus shall never starve while I can furnish her; you old Fellows always rail at Pleasures you are past. Nothing relishes when the Appetite is gone. For my part, I have quite another Idea of the Sex; at least, I will delay censuring till I have examin'd into Lucinda's Truth: If Lucinda has been false, I will then turn Railer like you, and conclude the worst of 'em all.
Ang. See here, an Informer for your purpose;—Mrs. Placket can give you the best Intelligence of that.
Enter Placket.
Phil. Mrs. Placket, I am overjoy'd to see you.
Plack. Mr. Philabel, you are welcome from the Wars. My young Lady is distracted to fee you;—she has been in such frights for you, poor thing,—but was overjoy'd to hear how well you carried your self in the last Battle.———
Sir Toby. How well his Horse carri'd him, adzooks, thou mean'st.
Plack. This note will better inform you.[Delivers a Note.
Ang. [aside.] Lucinda returning to an old Lover;—that's good news.—Now for some trick to secure the Aunt against Bellamour;—but that one shove more, and Fortune I adore thee.
Phil. If this Kindness is sincere, why was Bellamour so well receiv'd in my absence?
Plack. Why don't you know that the best receiv'd are seldom the most welcome, and that the Civilities a Woman shews in publick to one Man, are only to cover private Familiarities with another?
Phil. And my Lady Dorimen, we may have leave to wait upon her too?
Plac. Yes; this is her Day.
Phil. Her Day! for what?
Plack. Why to receive Visits: All your great Ladies keep their days for Visitants.
Sir Toby. And so by laying apart one Day for publick Ceremony, all the rest of the Week is secur'd for private Intrigue.
Phil. The Men and Women all visit the same day?
Plack. They have different Methods; my Lady has days apart. This is her day for the Men.
Phil. Very fine. And so we visit as we go into the Bagnio, where the Men and Women have their particular days of admittance.
Sir Toby. And find hotter Work in some of their Ruels, adzooks, than in any Bagnio in Town.—What think you Mrs. Placket of my young Friend here? he's most desperately in Love with my Lady Dorimen.
Plack. That's desperate indeed: Alas, such little Gentlemen may pass upon unexperienc'd Persons; but Widows have Beef-stomacks, such a Chick is not half a mouthful.—The Frenchman is now dressing my Lady's Head; he has been yet but two hours about it, in two more you may make your Visit; till when, Gentlemen, your Servant, I will be sure to make all your Complements.
Phil. Fare ye well good Mrs. Placket.[Exit Placket.
Now let's adjourn to some Place, where I may cast this filthy Camp-Coat, take one encouraging Glass, and then for Love and the Ladies.
Sir Toby. I'll go before, taste some Wine, and bespeak a relishing Bit.
| Phil. |
Thus Heroe-like, we from the Wars remove, To crown our toils, and still that Crown is Love. |
The End of the Second Act.