 |
Whisp. I go, I go. [Exit.
Patch. There, go thou into my Pocket. [Puts it besides, and it falls down.] Now I'll up the back Stairs, lest I meet him. Well, a dexterous Chamber-maid is the Ladies best Utensil, I say. [Exit.
Enter Sir Jealous with a Letter in his Hand.
Sir Jeal. So, this is some Comfort, this tells me that Seignior Don Diego Babinetto is safely arriv'd, he shall marry my Daughter the Minute he comes, ha. What's here [takes up the Letter Patch drop'd] a Letter! I don't know what to make of the Superscription. I'll see what's within side, [opens it] humph; 'tis Hebrew I think. What can this mean. There must be some trick in it; this was certainly design'd for my Daughter, but I don't know that she can speak any Language but her Mother-Tongue. No matter for that, this may be one of Love's Hieroglyphicks, and I fancy I saw Patch's Tail sweep by. That Wench may be a Slut, and instead of guarding my Honour, betray it; I'll find it out I'm resolv'd; who's there? What Answer did you bring from the Gentlemen I sent you to invite?
Serv. That they'd all wait of you, Sir, as I told you before, but I suppose you forget, Sir.
Sir Jeal. Did I so, Sir, but I shan't forget to break your Head, if any of 'em come, Sir.
Serv. Come, Sir, why did not you send me to desire their Company, Sir?
Sir Jeal. But I send you now to desire their Absence; say I have something extraordinary fallen out, which calls me abroad, contrary to Expectation, and ask their Pardon, and d'ye hear, send the Butler to me.
Serv. Yes, Sir. [Exit.
Enter Butler.
Sir Jeal. If this Paper has a Meaning I'll find it. Lay the Cloath in my Daughter's Chamber, and bid the Cook send Supper thither presently.
Butl. Yes, Sir,—hey day, what's the Matter now? [Exit.
Sir Jeal. He wants the Eyes of Argus, that has a young handsome Daughter in this Town, but my Comfort is, I shall not be troubl'd long with her. He that pretends to rule a Girl once in her Teens, had better be at Sea in a Storm, and would be in less Danger. For let him do, or Counsel all he can, She thinks and dreams of nothing else but Man. [Exit.
SCENE Isabinda's Chamber, Isabinda and Patch.
Isab. Are you sure, no Body saw you speak to Whisper?
Patch. Yes, very sure Madam, but I heard Sir Jealous coming down Stairs, so I clap'd this Letter into my Pocket. (Feels for the Letter.
Isab. A Letter! give it me quickly.
Patch. Bless me! what's become on't—I'm sure I put it— (Searching still.
Isab. Is it possible, thou could'st be so Careless—Oh! I'm undone for ever if it be lost.
Patch. I must have drop'd it upon the Stairs. But why are you so much alarm'd, if the worst happens no body can read it, Madam, nor find out whom it was design'd for.
Isab. If it falls into my Father's Hands the very Figure of a Letter will produce ill Consequences. Run and look for it upon the Stairs this Moment.
Patch. Nay, I'm sure it can be no where else.— (As she's going out of the Door meets the Butler.) How now, what do you want?
Butl. My Master order'd me to lay the Cloth here for his Supper.
Isab. Ruin'd past Redemption— (Aside.
Patch. You mistake sure; what shall we do?
Isab. I thought he expected Company to Night—Oh! poor Charles—Oh! unfortunate Isabinda.
Butl. I thought so too Madam, but I suppose he has alter'd his Mind. (Lays the Cloth, and Exit.
Isab. The Letter is the Cause; this heedless Action has undone me: Fly and fasten the Closet-window, which will give Charles notice to retire. Ha, my Father, oh! Confusion.
Enter Sir Jealous.
Sir Jeal. Hold, hold, Patch, whither are you going. I'll have no body stir out of the Room till after Supper.
Patch. Sir, I was only going to reach your easie Chair—Oh! wretched Accident!
Sir Jeal. I'll have no body stir out of the Room. I don't want my easie Chair.
Isab. What will be the event of this? (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Hark ye Daughter, do you know this Hand?
Isab. As I suspected—Hand do you call it, Sir? 'Tis some School-boy's Scraul.
Patch. Oh! Invention, thou Chamber-maid's best Friend, assist me. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Are you sure you don't understand it?
(Patch. Feels in her Bosom, and shakes her Coats.)
Isab. Do you understand it, Sir?
Sir Jeal. I wish I did.
Isab. Thank Heaven you do not. (aside) Then I know no more of it than you do indeed, Sir.
Patch. Oh Lord, Oh Lord, what have you done, Sir? Why the Paper is mine, I drop'd it out of my Bosom. (Snatching it from him.
Sir Jeal. Ha! yours, Mistress.
Isab. What does she mean by owning it. (Aside.
Patch. Yes, Sir, it is.
Sir Jeal. What is it? Speak.
Patch. Why, Sir, it is a Charm for the Tooth-ach—I have worn it this seven Year, 'twas given me by an Angel for ought I know, when I was raving with the Pain; for no body knew from whence he came, nor whither he went, he charg'd me never to open it, lest some dire Vengeance befal me, and Heaven knows what will be the Event. Oh! cruel Misfortune that I should drop it, and you should open it—If you had not open'd it—
Isab. Excellent Wench. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Pox of your Charms, and Whims for me, if that be all 'tis well enough; there, there, burn it, and I warrant you no Vengeance will follow.
Patch. So, all's right again thus far. (Aside.
Isab. I would not lose Patch for the World—I'll take courage a little. (aside) Is this Usage for your Daughter, Sir, must my Virtue and Conduct be suspected? For every Trifle, you immure me like some dire Offender here, and deny me all Recreations which my Sex enjoy, and the Custom of the Country and Modesty allow; yet not content with that you make my Confinement more intolerable by your Mistrusts and Jealousies; wou'd I were dead, so I were free from this. (Weeps.
Sir Jeal. To morrow rids you of this tiresome Load,—Don Diego Babinetto will be here, and then my Care ends and his begins.
Isab. Is he come then! Oh how shall I avoid this hated Marriage? (Aside.
Enter Servants with Supper.
Sir Jeal. Come will you sit down?
Isab. I can't eat, Sir.
Patch. No, I dare swear he has given her Supper enough. I wish I cou'd get into the Closet— (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Well, if you can't eat, then give me a Song whilst I do.
Isab. I have such a Cold I can scarce speak, Sir, much less sing. How shall I prevent Charles coming in. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. I hope you have the Use of your Fingers, Madam. Play a Tune upon your Spinnet, whilst your Woman sings me a Song.
Patch. I'm as much out of Tune as my Lady, if he knew all. (Aside.
Isab. I shall make excellent Musick. (Sits down to play.
Patch. Really, Sir, I'm so frighted about your opening this Charm, that I can't remember one Song.
Sir Jeal. Pish, hang your Charm; come, come, sing any thing.
Patch. Yes, I'm likely to sing truly (aside) humph, humph, bless me, Sir, I cannot raise my Voice, my Heart pants so.
Sir Jeal. Why, what does your Heart pant so that you can't play neither? Pray what Key are you in, ha?
Patch. Ah, wou'd the Key was turn'd of you once. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Why don't you sing, I say!
Patch. When Madam has put her Spinnet in Tune, Sir, humph, humph.—
Isab. I cannot play, Sir, whatever ails me. (Rising.
Sir Jeal. Zounds sit down, and play me a Tune, or I'll break the Spinnet about your Ears.
Isab. What will become of me? (Sits down and plays.
Sir Jeal. Come, Mistress. (To Patch
Patch. Yes, Sir. (Sings, but horribly out of Tune.
Sir Jeal. Hey, hey, why you are a top of the House, and you are down in the Cellar. What is the meaning of this? Is it on purpose to cross me, ha?
Patch. Pray Madam, take it a little lower, I cannot reach that Note—nor any Note I fear.
Isab. Well, begin—Oh! Patch we shall be discover'd.
Patch. I sink with the Apprehension, Madam,—humph, humph— (Sings)
(_Charles_ pulls open the Closet Door._
Char. Musick and Singing 'Tis thus the bright Coelestial Court above, Beguiles the Hours with Musick and with Love. Death! her Father there, (The Women shriek) then I must fly— (Exit into the Closet)
(Sir Jealous rises up hastily, seeing Charles slip back into the Closet.
Sir Jeal. Hell and Furies, a Man in the Closet—
Patch. Ah! a Ghost, a Ghost—he must not enter the Closet— (Isabinda throws her self down before the Closet-door as in a Sound.
Sir Jeal. The Devil! I'll make a Ghost of him I warrant you. (Strives to get by.
Patch. Oh hold, Sir, have a care, you'l tread upon my Lady— who waits there? Bring some Water: Oh! this comes of your opening the Charm: Oh, oh, oh, oh. (Weeps aloud.
Sir Jeal. I'll Charm you, House-wife, here lies the Charm, that conjur'd this Fellow in I'm sure on't, come out you Rascal, do so: Zounds take her from the Door, or I'll spurn her from it, and break your Neck down Stairs.
Isab. Oh, oh, where am I—He's gone, I heard him leap down. (Aside to Patch.
Patch. Nay, then let him enter—here, here Madam, smell to this; come give me your Hand; come nearer to the Window, the Air will do you good.
Sir Jeal. I wou'd she were in her Grave. Where are you, Sirrah, Villain, Robber of my Honour; I'll pull you out of your Nest. (Goes into the Closet.
Patch. You'l be mistaken, old Gentleman, the Bird is flown.
Isab. I'm glad I have 'scap'd so well. I was almost dead in earnest with the Fright.
Re-enter Sir Jealous out of the Closet.
Sir Jeal. Whoever the Dog were he has escap'd out of the Window, for the Sash is up. But tho' he is got out of my Reach, you are not: And first Mrs. Pandor, with your Charms for Tooth-ach, get out of my House, go, troop; yet hold, stay, I'll see you out of my Doors my self, but I'll secure your Charge e'er I go.
Isab. What do you mean, Sir? Was she not a Creature of your own providing?
Sir Jeal. She was of the Devil's providing for ought I know.
Patch. What have I done, Sir to merit your Displeasure?
Sir Jeal. I don't know which of you have done it; but you shall both suffer for it, till I can discover whose Guilt it is: Go get in there, I'll move you from this side of the House (Pushes Isabinda in at the other Door, and locks it; puts the Key in his Pocket.) I'll keep the Key my self: I'll try what Ghost will get into that Room. And now forsooth I'll wait on you down Stairs.
Patch. Ah, my poor Lady—Down Stairs, Sir, but I won't go out, Sir, till I have look'd up my Cloaths.
Sir Jeal. If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou should'st not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your Mistress is marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that belongs to you; but till then— (Exit, pulling her out.
Patch. Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing.
Re-enter at the lower Door.
Sir Jeal. There, go, and, come no more within sight of my Habitation, these three Days, I charge you. (Slaps the Door after her.
Patch. Did ever any Body see such an old Monster!
Enter Charles.
Patch. Oh! Mr. Charles your Affairs and mine are in an ill Posture.
Char. I am immur'd to the Frowns of Fortune: But what has befal'n thee?
Patch. Sir Jealous, whose suspicious Nature's always on the Watch; nay, even whilst one Eye sleeps, the other keeps Sentinel: Upon sight of you, flew into such a violent Passion, that I cou'd find no Stratagem to appease him, but in spight of all Arguments, lock'd his Daughter into his own Apartment, and turn'd me out of Doors.
Char. Ha! oh, Isabinda.
Patch. And swears she shall neither see Sun nor Moon, till she is Don Diego Babinetto's Wife, who arrived last Night, and is expected with impatience.
Char. He dies, yes, by all the Wrongs of Love he shall; here will I plant my self, and thro' my Breast he shall make his Passage, if he enters.
Patch. A most heroick Resolution. There might be ways found out more to your Advantage. Policy is often preferr'd to open force.
Char. I apprehend you not.
Patch. What think you of personating this Spaniard, imposing upon the Father, and marrying your Mistress by his own Consent.
Char. Say'st thou so my Angel! Oh cou'd that be done, my Life to come wou'd be too short to recompence thee: But how can I do that, when I neither know what Ship he came in, nor from what part of Spain; who recommends him, nor how attended.
Patch. I can solve all this. He is from Madrid, his Father's Name Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto. Here's a Letter of his to Sir Jealous, which he drop'd one Day; you understand Spanish, and the Hand may be counterfeited: You conceive me, Sir.
Char. My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll about it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters.
(Exeunt.
SCENE a Garden Gate open, Scentwell waiting within.
Enter Sir George Airy.
Sir Geo. So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If there shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my Fall make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all.
Scentw. Hist, hist, Sir George Airy— (Enters.
Sir Geo. A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear.
Scentw. No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, give me your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Passage and dirty Step before you arrive—
Sir Geo. I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore be quick my charming Guide.
Scentw. For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away.
Sir Geo. Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my Desires.
(Exeunt.
SCENE the House.
Enter Miranda.
Miran. Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now don't I transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice of the Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have marry'd me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir George is what I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his Character, am satisfied in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a hundred Pound only to have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So I find my liking him has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; and now the only Doubt remains whether he will come or no.
Enter Scentwell.
Scentw. That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight. Exit Scentwell.
Sir Geo. And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose Idea fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams!
Miran. What beginning again in Heroicks!—Sir George, don't you remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal Oration produced, not one bare single Word in answer.
Sir Geo. Ha! the Voice of my Incognita—Why did you take Ten Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had vanquish'd?
Miran. Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but short, and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that same terrible Bugbear, Matrimony, without heartily Repenting on both sides.
Sir Geo. It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes beheld ye.
Miran. And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had Thirty Thousand Pound.
Sir Geo. Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd Minutes to run the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that lovely Person to my Arms.
Miran. Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our Woing has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the World see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty—
Sir Geo. Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the envy'd Pair—
Miran. Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to venture on dangerous Experiments headlong—My Guardian, trusting to my dissembled Love, has given up my Fortune to my own dispose; but with this Proviso, that he to Morrow morning weds me. He is now gone to Doctors Commons for a License.
Sir Geo. Ha, a License!
Miran. But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him down to Epsom, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of his, is to make him his Executor; the thing on Earth he covets.
Sir Geo. 'Tis his known Character.
Miran. Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and he sends me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can be undeceiv'd. That time is ours.
Sir Geo. Let us improve it then, and settle on our coming Years, endless, endless Happiness.
Miran. I dare not stir till I hear he's on the Road—then I and my Writings, the most material point, are soon removed.
Sir Geo. I have one Favour to ask, if it lies in your power, you wou'd be a Friend to poor Charles, tho' the Son of this tenacious Man: He is as free from all his Vices, as Nature and a good Education can make him; and what now I have vanity enough to hope will induce you, he is the Man on Earth I love.
Miran. I never was his Enemy, and only put it on as it help'd my Designs on his Father. If his Uncle's Estate ought to be in his Possession, which I shrewdly suspect, I may do him a singular piece of Service.
Sir Geo. You are all Goodness.
Enter Scentwell.
Scentw. Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. Marplot are just coming into the House.
Miran. Undone, undone! if he finds you here in this Crisis, all my Plots are unravell'd.
Sir Geo. What shall I do! can't I get back into the Garden?
Scentw. Oh, no! he comes up those Stairs.
Miran. Here, here, here! can you condescend to stand behind this Chimney-Board, Sir George?
Sir Geo. Any where, any where, dear Madam, without Ceremony.
Scentw. Come, come, Sir; lie close— (They put him behind the Chimney-Board.
_Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_: Sir _Francis_ peeling an Orange_._
Sir Fran. I cou'd not go, tho' 'tis upon Life and Death, without taking leave of dear Chargee. Besides, this Fellow buz'd in my Ears, that thou might'st be so desperate to shoot that wild Rake which haunts the Garden-Gate; and that wou'd bring us into Trouble, dear—
Miran. So, Marplot brought you back then: I am oblig'd to him for that, I'm sure— (Frowning at Marplot aside.
Marpl. By her Looks she means she is not oblig'd to me. I have done some Mischief now, but what I can't imagine.
Sir Fran. Well, Chargee, I have had three Messengers to come to Epsom to my Neighbour Squeezum's who, for all his vast Riches, is departing. (Sighs.
Marpl. Ay, see what all you Usurers must come to.
Sir Fran. Peace, ye young Knave! Some Forty Years hence I may think on't—But, Chargee, I'll be with thee to Morrow, before those pretty Eyes are open; I will, I will, Chargee, I'll rouze you, I saith.—Here Mrs. Scentwell, lift up your Lady's Chimney-Board, that I may throw my Peel in, and not litter her Chamber.
Miran. Oh my Stars! what will become of us now?
Scentw. Oh, pray Sir, give it me; I love it above all things in Nature, indeed I do.
Sir Fran. No, no, Hussy; you have the Green Pip already, I'll have no more Apothecary's Bills. (Goes towards the Chimney.
Miran. Hold, hold, hold, dear Gardee, I have a, a, a, a, a Monkey shut up there; and if you open it before the Man comes that is to tame it, 'tis so wild 'twill break all my China, or get away, and that wou'd break my Heart; for I am fond on't to Distraction, next thee, dear Gardee. (In a flattering Tone.
Sir Fran. Well, well, Chargee, I wont open it; she shall have her Monkey, poor Rogue; here throw this Peel out of the Window.
(Exit Scentwell.
Marpl. A Monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame a Monkey as well as the best of them all. Oh how I love the little Minatures of Man.
Miran. Be quiet, Mischief, and stand farther from the Chimney—You shall not see my Monkey—why sure— (Striving with him.
Marpl. For Heaven's sake, dear Madam, let me but peep, to see if it be as pretty as my Lady Fiddle-Faddle's. Has it got a Chain?
Miran. Not yet, but I design it one shall last its Life-time: Nay, you shall not see it—Look, Gardee, how he teazes me!
Sir Fran. (Getting between him and the Chimney.) Sirrah, Sirrah, let my Chargee's Monkey alone, or Bambo shall fly about your Ears. What is there no dealing with you?
Marpl. Pugh, pox of the Monkey! here's a Rout: I wish he may Rival you.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Sir, they put two more Horses in the Coach, as you order'd, and 'tis ready at the Door.
Sir Fran. Well, I'm going to be Executor, better for thee, Jewel. B'ye Chargee, one Buss!—I'm glad thou hast got a a Monkey to divert thee a little.
Miran. Thank'e, dear Gardee.—Nay, I'll see you to the Coach.
Sir Fran. That's kind, adod.
Miran. Come along, Impertinence. (To Marplot.
Marpl. (Stepping back.) Egad, I will see the Monkey: Now (Lifts up the Board, and discovers Sir George.) Oh Lord, Oh Lord! Thieves, Thieves, Murder!
Sir Geo. Dam'e, you unlucky Dog! 'tis I, which way shall I get out, shew me instantly, or I'll cut your Throat.
Marpl. Undone, undone! At that Door there. But hold, hold, break that China, and I'll bring you off. (He runs off at the Corner, and throws down some China.
Re-enter Sir Francis, Miranda, and Scentwell.
Sir Fran. Mercy on me! what's the matter?
Miran. Oh, you Toad! what have you done?
Marpl. No great harm, I beg of you to forgive me: Longing to see the Monkey, I did but just raise up the Board, and it flew over my Shoulders, scratch'd all my Face, broke yon' China, and whisk'd out of the Window.
Sir Fran. Was ever such an unlucky Rogue! Sirrah, I forbid you my House. Call the Servants to get the Monkey again; I wou'd stay my self to look it, but that you know my earnest Business.
Scentw. Oh my Lady will be the best to lure it back; all them Creatures love my Lady extremely.
Miran. Go, go, dear Gardee; I hope I shall recover it.
Sir Fran. B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! B'ye, b'ye. (Exit.
Miran. Scentwell, see him in the Coach, and bring me word.
Scentw. Yes, Madam.
Miran. So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of Service, I suppose.
Marpl. Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank your self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor none more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when you talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you talk'd of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir George?
Miran. A sign you converse but little with our Sex, when you can't reconcile Contradictions.
Enter Scentwell.
Scentw. He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can carry him.
Enter Sir George.
Sir Geo. Then I may appear.
Marpl. Dear, Sir George, make my Peace! On my Soul, I did not think of you.
Sir Geo. I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to forgive him.
Miran. Well, Sir George, if he can be secret.
Marpl. Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm trusted.
Sir Geo. Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at present.
Scentw. Madam, here's Mrs. Isabinda's Woman to wait on you.
Miran. Bring her up.
Enter Patch.
How do'e, Mrs. Patch, what News from your Lady?
Patch. That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir George, there's a Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your Assistance.
Sir Geo. His Name.
Patch. Charles.
Marpl. Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing of. I'll wait on you, Sir George.
Sir Geo. A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as I have dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my Servant to tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour.
Miran. How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. Patch?
Patch. Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, but hope to serve my Lady still.
Miran. How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story within.
Patch. With all my Heart, Madam.
Marpl. Pish! Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I find Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know what Charles wants him for. (Aside.
Sir Geo. Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friendship: This Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make Marplot of the Party?
Miran. If you'll run the Hazard, Sir George; I believe he means well.
Marpl. Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: I'll begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me. (Going.
Sir Geo. So now has he a mind to be gone to Charles: but not knowing what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at present, I'm resolv'd he sha'n't stir: No, Mr. Marplot, you must not leave us, we want a third Person. (Takes hold of him.
Marpl. I never had more mind to be gone in my Life.
Miran. Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your self for taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board.
Sir Geo. That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove, Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love.
The End of the Fourth ACT.
ACT the Fifth.
Enter Miranda, Patch, and Scentwell.
Miran. Well, Patch, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to one of my Age and Constitution.
Patch. O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir George Airy; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them happy.
Miran. I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd bring my Guardian back. Scentwell, put my best Jewels into the little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir. Jealous's.
Scentw. It shall be done, Madam. (Exit Scentwell.
Patch. Sir George will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot succeeds, we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect us. Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares.
Miran. Farewell, old Mammon, and thy detested Walls; 'twill be no more sweet Sir Francis, I shall be compell'd to the odious Task of Dissembling no longer to get my own, and coax him with the wheedling Names of my Precious, my Dear, dear Gardee. Oh Heavens!
Enter Sir Francis behind.
Sir Fran. Ah, my sweet Chargee, don't be frighted. (She starts.) But thy poor Gardee has been abused, cheated, fool'd, betray'd, but no Body knows by whom.
Miran. (Aside.) Undone! past Redemption.
Sir Fran. What won't you speak to me, Chargee!
Miran. I'm so surpriz'd with Joy to see you, I know not what to say.
Sir Fran. Poor, dear Girl! But do'e know that my Son, or some such Rogue, to rob or murder me, or both, contriv'd this Journey? For upon the Road I met my Neighbour Squeezum well, and coming to Town.
Miran. Good lack, good lack! what Tricks are there in this World!
Enter Scentwell, with a Diamond Necklace in her Hand; not seeing Sir Francis.
Scentw. Madam, be pleas'd to tye this Neck-lace on; for I can't get it into the— (Seeing Sir Francis.
Miran. The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou'd you not have carry'd it to be mended, without putting it in the Box?
Sir Fran. What's the matter?
Miran. Only Dear'e, I bid her, I bid her—Your ill Usage has put every thing out of my Head. But won't you go, Gardee, and find out these Fellows, and have them punish'd! and, and—
Sir Fran. Where shou'd I look them, Child? No I'll sit me down contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with thee to a Parson.
Miran. (Aside.) If he goes into his Closet I am ruin'd. Oh! bless me in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. Patch.
Patch. Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer.
Miran. (Aside.) I must get him out of the House. Now assist me Fortune.
Sir Fran. Mrs. Patch, I profess I did not see you, how dost thou do, Mrs. Patch; well don't you repent leaving my Chargee?
Patch. Yes, every body must love her—but I came now—Madam, what did I come for, my Invention is at the last Ebb. (Aside to Miranda.
Sir Fran. Nay, never Whisper, tell me.
Miran. She came, dear Gardee to invite me to her Lady's Wedding, and you shall go with me Gardee, 'tis to be done this Moment to a Spanish Merchant; Old Sir Jealous keeps on his Humour, the first Minute he sees her, the next he marries her.
Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought the sight of Matrimony wou'd tempt Chargee to perform her Promise: There was a smile, there was a consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a Million. Ods precious, I am happier than the Great Mogul, the Emperour of China, or all the Potentates that are not in Wars. Speak, confirm it, make me leap out of my Skin.
Miran. When one has resolv'd, 'tis in vain to stand shall I, shall I, if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day.
Sir Fran. Oh! happy, happy Man—Verily I will beget a Son, the first Night shall disinherit that Dog, Charles. I have Estate enough to purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole Family of the Gripes.
Miran. Come then Gardee, give me thy Hand, let's to this House of Hymen. My Choice is fix'd, let good or ill betide,
Sir Fran. The joyful Bridegroom, I
Miran. And I the happy Bride.
(Exeunt.
Enter Sir Jealous meeting a Servant.
Serv. Sir, here's a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one of 'em calls himself Seignor Diego Babinetto.
Sir Jeal. Ha! Seignor Babinetto! Admit 'em instantly—Joyful Minute; I'll have my Daughter marry'd to Night.
Enter Charles in Spanish Habit, with Sir George drest like a Merchant.
Sir Jeal. Senior, beso Las Manos vuestra merced es muy bien venido en esta tierra.
Char. Senhor, soy muy humilde, y muy obligado Cryado de vuestra merced: Mi Padre Embia a vuestra merced, los mas profondos de sus respetos; y a Commissionado este Mercadel Ingles, de concluyr un negocio, que me Haze el mas dichoso hombre del mundo, Haziendo me su yerno.
Sir Jeal. I am glad on't, for I find I have lost much of my Spanish. Sir, I am your most humble Servant. Seignor Don Diego Babinetto has inform'd me that you are Commission'd by Seignor Don Pedro, &c. his worthy Father.
Sir Geo. To see an Affair of Marriage Consummated between a Daughter of yours, and Seignor Diego Babinetto his Son here. True, Sir, such a Trust is repos'd in me as that Letter will inform you. I hope 'twill pass upon him. (Aside.) (Gives him a Letter.
Sir Jeal. Ay, 'tis his Hand. (Seems to read.
Sir Geo. Good —— you have counterfeited to a Nicety, Charles. (Aside to Charles.
Char. If the whole Plot succeeds as well, I'm happy.
Sir Jeal. Sir I find by this, that you are a Man of Honour and Probity; I think, Sir, he calls you Meanwell.
Sir Geo. Meanwell is my Name, Sir.
Sir Jeal. A very good Name, and very Significant.
Char. Yes, Faith if he knew all. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. For to Mean-well is to be honest, and to be honest is the Virtue of a Friend, and a Friend is the Delight and Support of Human Society.
Sir Geo. You shall find that I'll Discharge the part of a Friend in what I have undertaken, Sir Jealous.
Char. But little does he think to whom. (Aside.
Sir Geo. Therefore, Sir, I must intreat the Presence of your fair Daughter, and the Assistance of your Chaplain; for Seignor Don Pedro strictly enjoyn'd me to see the Marriage Rites perform'd as soon as we should arrive, to avoid the Accidental Overtures of Venus.
Sir Jeal. Overtures of Venus!
Sir Geo. Ay, Sir, that is, those little Hawking Females that traverse the Park, and the Play-house to put off their damag'd Ware—they fasten upon Foreigners like Leeches, and watch their Arrival as carefully, as the Kentish Men do a Ship-wreck. I warrant you they have heard of him already.
Sir Jeal. Nay, I know this Town swarms with them.
Sir Geo. Ay, and then you know the Spaniards are naturally Amorous, but very Constant, the first Face fixes 'em, and it may be dangerous to let him ramble e'er he is tied.
Char. Well hinted. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Pat to my Purpose—Well, Sir, there is but one thing more, and they shall be married instantly.
Char. Pray Heaven, that one thing more don't spoil all. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Don Pedro writ me Word in his last but one, that he design'd the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for my Daughter; and that it shou'd be paid into my Hand upon the Day of Marriage.
Char. Oh! the Devil. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case she should become a Widow, and return for England.
Sir Geo. Pox on't, this is an unlucky Turn. What shall I say? (Aside.
Sir Jeal. And he does not mention one Word of it in this Letter.
Char. I don't know how he should. (Aside.
Sir Geo. Humph! True, Sir Jealous, he told me such a Thing, but, but, but, but—he, he, he, he—he did not imagine that you would insist upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you know is dangerous returning by Sea, an, an, an, an—
Char. Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities. (Aside to Sir George.
Sir Geo. And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, Tobacco, Sugars, Spices, Limons, and so forth, which shall be turn'd into Money with all Expedition: In the mean time, Sir, if you please to accept of my Bond for Performance.
Sir Jeal. It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas'd with the Countenance of Seignor Diego, and the Harmony of your Name, that I'll take your Word, and will fetch my Daughter this Moment. Within there (Enter Servant) desire Mr. Tackum my Neighbour's Chaplain to walk hither.
Serv. Yes, Sir. (Exit.
Sir Jeal. Gentlemen, I'll return in an Instant. (Exit.
Char. Wondrous well. Let me embrace thee.
Sir Geo. Egad that 5000 l. had like to have ruin'd the Plot.
Char. But that's over! And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in our way.
Sir Geo. Thou'lt carry the Prize—but hist, here he comes.
Enter Sir Jealous, dragging in Isabinda.
Sir Jeal. Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come along.
Isab. Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word, Do not destroy my everlasting Peace; My Soul abhors this Spaniard you have chose Nor can I wed him without being curst.
Sir Jeal. How's that!
Isab. Let this Posture move your tender Nature. (Kneels. For ever will I hang upon these Knees; Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold, If you refuse to hear me, Sir.
Char. Oh! that I cou'd discover my self to her. (Aside
Sir Geo. Have a care what you do. You had better trust to his Obstinacy. (Aside
Sir Jeal. Did you ever see such a perverse Slut: Off I say Mr. Meanwell pray help me a little.
Sir Geo. Rise, Madam, and do not disoblige your Father, who has provided a Husband worthy of you, one that will Love you equal with his Soul, and one that you will Love, when once you know him.
Isab. Oh! never, never. Cou'd I suspect that Falshood in my Heart, I wou'd this Moment tear it from my Breast, and streight present him with the Treacherous Part.
Char. Oh! my charming faithful Dear. (Aside.
Sir Jeal. Falshood! why, who the Devil are you in Love with? Ha! Don't provoke me, for by St. Jago I shall beat you, Housewife.
Char. Heaven forbid; for I shall infallibly discover my self if he should. (Aside.
Sir Geo. Have Patience, Madam! and look at him: Why will you prepossess your self against a Man that is Master of all the Charms you would desire in a Husband?
Sir Jeal. Ay, look at him, Isabinda, Senior pase vind adelante.
Char. My Heart bleeds to see her grieve, whom I imagin'd would with Joy receive me. Seniora obligue me vuestra merced de sumano.
Sir Jeal. (Pulling up her Head.) Hold up your Head, hold up your Head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a properer, handsomer, better shap'd Fellow in England, ye Jade you. Ha! see, see the obstinate Baggage shuts her Eyes; by St. Jago, I have a good Mind to beat 'em out. (Pushes her down.
Isab. Do then, Sir, kill me, kill me instantly. 'Tis much the kinder Action of the Two, For 'twill be worse than Death to wed him.
Sir Geo. Sir Jealous, you are too passionate. Give me leave, I'll try by gentle Words to work her to your Purpose.
Sir Jeal. I pray do, Mr. Meanwell, I pray do; she'll break my Heart. (weeps) There is in that, Jewels of the Value of 3000 l. which were her Mother's; and a Paper wherein I have settled one half of my Estate upon her now, and the whole when I dye. But provided she marries this Gentleman, else by St. Jago, I'll turn her out of Doors to beg or starve. Tell her this, Mr. Meanwell, pray do. (Walks off.
Sir Geo. Ha! this is beyond Expectation—Trust to me, Sir, I'll lay the dangerous Consequence of disobeying you at this Juncture before her, I warrant you.
Char. A sudden Joy runs thro' my Heart like a propitious Omen. (Aside.
Sir Geo. Come, Madam, do not blindly cast your Life away just in the Moment you would wish to have it.
Isab. Pray cease your Trouble, Sir, I have no Wish but sudden Death to free me from this hated Spaniard. If you are his Friend inform him what I say; my Heart is given to another Youth, whom I love with the same strength of Passion that I hate this Diego; with whom, if I am forc'd to wed, my own Hand shall cut the Gordian Knot.
Sir Geo. Suppose this Spaniard which you strive to shun should be the very Man to whom you'd flye?
Isab. Ha!
Sir Geo. Would you not blame your rash Result, and curse those Eyes that would not look on Charles.
Isab. On Charles! Oh you have inspir'd new Life, and collected every wandring Sense. Where is he? Oh! let me flye into his Arms. (Rises.
Sir Geo. Hold, hold, hold, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll ruin all, your Father believes him to be Seignor Barbinetto. Compose your self a little, pray Madam. (He runs to Sir Jealous.
Char. Her Eyes declare she knows me. (Aside.
Sir Geo. She begins to hear Reason, Sir, the fear of being turn'd out of Doors has done it. (Runs back to Isabinda.
Isab. 'Tis he, oh! my ravish'd Soul.
Sir Geo. Take heed, Madam, you don't betray your self. Seem with Reluctance to consent, or you are undone, (runs to Sir Jealous.) speak gently to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll yield, I see it in her Face.
Sir Jeal. Well, Isabinda, can you refuse to bless a Father, whose only Care is to make you happy, as Mr. Meanwell has inform'd you. Come, wipe thy Eyes; nay, prithee do, or thou wilt break thy Father's Heart; see thou bring'st the Tears in mine to think of thy undutiful Carriage to me. (Weeps.
Isab. Oh! do not weep, Sir, your Tears are like a Ponyard to my Soul; do with me what you please, I am all Obedience.
Sir Jeal. Ha! then thou art my Child agen.
Sir Geo. 'Tis done, and now Friend the Day's thy own.
Char. The happiest of my Life, if nothing Intervene.
Sir Jeal. And wilt thou love him?
Isab. I will endeavour it, Sir.
Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, Here is Mr. Tackum.
Sir Jeal. Show him into the Parlour—Senior tome vind sueipora; cete Momenta les Junta les Manos. (Gives her to Charles.
Char. Oh! transport—Senior yo la recibo Como se deve un Tesoro tan Grande. Oh! my Joy, my Life, my Soul. (Embrace.
Isab. My Faithful everlasting Comfort.
Sir Jeal. Now, Mr. Meanwell let's to the Parson, Who, by his Art will join this Pair for Life, Make me the happiest Father, her the happiest Wife. (Exit.
SCENE Changes to the Street before Sir Jealous's Door.
Enter Marplot, Solus.
Marpl. I have hunted all over the Town for Charles, but can't find him; and by Whisper's scouting at the End of the Street, I suspect he must be in this House again. I'm inform'd too that he has borrow'd a Spanish Habit out of the Play-house. What can it mean?
Enter a Servant of Sir Jealous's to him, out of the House.
Hark'e, Sir, do you belong to this House?
Serv. Yes, Sir.
Marpl. Pray can you tell if there be a Gentleman in it in Spanish Habit?
Serv. There is a Spanish Gentleman within, that is just a going to marry my young Lady, Sir.
Marpl. Are you sure he is a Spanish Gentleman?
Serv. I'm sure he speaks no English, that I hear of.
Marpl. Then that can't be him I want; for 'tis an English Gentleman, tho' I suppose he may be dress'd like a Spaniard, that I enquire after.
Serv. Ha! who knows but this may be an Impostor? I'll inform my Master; for if he shou'd be impos'd upon, he'll beat us all round. (Aside.) Pray, come in, Sir, and see if this be the Person you enquire for.
SCENE Changes to the Inside the House.
Enter Marplot.
Marpl. So, this was a good Contrivance: If this be Charles, now will he wonder how I found him out.
Enter Servant and Jealous.
Sir Jeal. What is your earnest Business, Blockhead, that you must speak with me before the Ceremony's past? Ha! who's this?
Serv. Why this Gentleman, Sir, wants another Gentleman in Spanish Habit, he says.
Sir Jeal. In Spanish Habit! 'tis some Friend of Seignior Don Diego's, I warrant. Sir, I suppose you wou'd speak with Seignior Barbinetto—
Marpl. Hy-day! what the Devil does he say now!—Sir, I don't understand you.
Sir Jeal. Don't you understand Spanish, Sir?
Marpl. Not I indeed, Sir.
Sir Jeal. I thought you had known Seignior Barbinetto.
Marpl. Not I, upon my word, Sir.
Sir Jeal. What then you'd speak with his Friend, the English Merchant, Mr. Meanwell.
Marpl. Neither, Sir; not I.
Sir Jeal. Why who are you then, Sir? and what do you want? (In an angry Tone.
Marpl. Nay, nothing at all, not I, Sir. Pox on him! I wish I were out, he begins to exalt his Voice, I shall be beaten agen.
Sir Jeal. Nothing at all, Sir! Why then what Business have you in my House? ha?
Serv. You said you wanted a Gentleman in Spanish Habit.
Marpl. Why ay, but his Name is neither Barbinetto nor Meanwell.
Sir Jeal. What is his Name then, Sirrah, ha? Now I look at you agen, I believe you are the Rogue threaten'd me with half a Dozen Mirmidons—Speak, Sir, who is it you look for? or, or—
Marpl. A terrible old Dog!—Why, Sir, only an honest young Fellow of my Acquaintance—I thought that here might be a Ball, and that he might have been here in a Masquerade; 'tis Charles, Sir Francis Gripe's Son, because I know he us'd to come hither sometimes.
Sir Jeal. Did he so?—Not that I know of, I'm sure. Pray Heaven that this be Don Diego—If I shou'd be trick'd now—Ha! my Heart misgives me plaguily—within there! stop the Marriage—Run, Sirrah, call all my Servants! I'll be satisfy'd that this is Seignior Pedro's Son e're he has my Daughter.
Marpl. Ha, Sir George, what have I done now ?
Enter Sir George with a drawn Sword between the Scenes.
Sir Geo. Ha! Marplot, here—Oh the unlucky Dog—what's the matter, Sir Jealous?
Sir Jeal. Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr.Meanwell.
_Marpl._ Upon my Soul, Sir _George_— (_Going up to Sir _Geo._
Sir Jeal. Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, Traytors, Rogues! (Offers to go in.) Stop the Marriage, I say—
Sir Geo. I say, go on Mr.Tackum—Nay, no Ent'ring here, I guard this Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both your own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die for't.
Enter Servants.
Sir Jeal. A pox on the Act and Deed!—Fall on, knock him down.
Sir Geo. Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for you.
Sir Jeal. Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you. (Beats Marplot.
Sir Geo. Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha.
Marpl. Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your Daughter.
Sir Jeal. Rascals! why don't you knock him down?
Serv. We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that from him, we'll knock him down presently.
Enter Charles and Isabinda.
Sir Jeal. Seize her then.
Char. Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, I'll make Dogs meat of you.
Sir Jeal. Ah! downright English:—Oh, oh, oh, oh!
Enter Sir Francis Gripe, Mirand, Patch, Scentwell, and Whisper.
Sir Fran. Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! I think 'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir Jealous.
Sir Jeal. Oh Sir Francis! are you come? What was this your Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child!
Sir Fran. My Contrivance! what do you mean?
Sir Jeal. No, you don't know your Son there in Spanish Habit.
Sir Fran. How! my Son in Spanish Habit. Sirrah, you'll come to be hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight.
Sir Jeal. Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; let's see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on.
Sir Fran. Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny of mine—and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir Jealous. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: But look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is my Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her Body.
Sir Geo. Lawfully begotten by me—I shall be extremely oblig'd to you, Sir Francis.
Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir George! You see your Project was of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach? Ha, ha, ha.
Sir Geo. No faith, Sir Francis, this Lady has given me a Cordial for that. (Takes her by the Hand.
Sir Fran. Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady.
Sir Geo. Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir.
Sir Fran. Wife, Sir!
Miran. Ay really, Guardian, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my first Offence.
Sir Fran. What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your Writings then, Mistress, ha?
Miran. Out of nothing but my own, Guardian.
Sir Jeal. Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort at least to see you are over-reach'd as well as my self. Will you settle your Estate upon your Son now?
Sir Fran. He shall starve first.
Miran. That I have taken care to prevent. There, Sir, is the Writings of your Uncle's Estate, which has been your due these three Years. (Gives Char. Papers.
Char. I shall study to deserve this Favour.
Sir Fran. What have you robb'd me too, Mistress! Egad I'll make you restore 'em.—Huswife, I will so.
Sir Jeal. Take care I don't make you pay the Arrears, Sir. 'Tis well it's no worse, since 'tis no better. Come, young Man, seeing thou hast out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both.
Char. I hope, Sir, you'll bestow your Blessing too, 'tis all I'll ask. (Kneels.
Sir Fran. Confound you all! (Exit.
Marpl. Mercy upon us! how he looks!
Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ne'er mind his Curses, Charles; thou'lt thrive not one jot the worse for 'em. Since this Gentleman is reconcil'd, we are all made happy.
Sir Jeal. I always lov'd Precaution, and took care to avoid Dangers. But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be easie.
Char. Which is the true sign of a great Soul: I lov'd your Daughter, and she me, and you shall have no reason to repent her Choice.
Isab. You will not blame me, Sir, for loving my own Country best.
Marpl. So here's every Body happy, I find, but poor Pilgarlick. I wonder what Satisfaction I shall have, for being cuff'd, kick'd, and beaten in your Service.
Sir Jeal. I have been a little too familiar with you, as things are fallen out; but since there's no help for't, you must forgive me.
Marpl. Egad I think so—But provided that you be not so familiar for the future.
Sir Geo. Thou hast been an unlucky Rogue.
Marpl. But very honest.
Char. That I'll vouch for; and freely forgive thee.
Sir Geo. And I'll do you one piece of Service more, Marplot, I'll take care that Sir Francis make you Master of your Estate.
Marpl. That will make me as happy as any of you.
Patch. Your humble Servant begs leave to remind you, Madam.
Isab. Sir, I hope you'll give me leave to take Patch into favour again.
Sir Jeal. Nay, let your Husband look to that, I have done with my Care.
Char. Her own Liberty shall always oblige me. Here's no Body but honest Whisper and Mrs. Scentwell to be provided for now. It shall be left to their Choice to Marry, or keep their Services.
Whisp. Nay then, I'll stick to my Master.
Scentw. Coxcomb! and I prefer my Lady before a Footman.
Sir Jeal. Hark, I hear Musick, the Fidlers smell a Wedding. What say you, young Fellows, will ye have a Dance?
Sir Geo. With all my Heart; call'em in.
A DANCE.
Sir Jeal. Now let us in and refresh our selves with a chearful Glass, in which we'll bury all Animosities: And
By my Example let all Parents move, And never strive to cross their Childrens Love; But still submit that Care to Providence above.
FINIS
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Editors of THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
are pleased to announce that
THE WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY of The University of California, Los Angeles
will become the publisher of the Augustan Reprints in May, 1949. The editorial policy of the Society will continue unchanged. As in the past, the editors will strive to furnish members inexpensive reprints of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works.
Publications for the fourth year (1949-1950)
(At least six items will be printed in the main from the following list)
SERIES IV: MEN, MANNERS, AND CRITICS
John Dryden, His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681) [#15074] Daniel Defoe (?), Vindication of the Press (1718) [#14084] Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela (1754)
SERIES V: DRAMA
Thomas Southerne, Oroonoko (1696) Mrs. Centlivre, The Busie Body (1709) Charles Johnson, Caelia (1733) Charles Macklin, Man of the World (1781) [#14463]
SERIES VI: POETRY AND LANGUAGE
Andre Dacier, Essay on Lyric Poetry Poems by Thomas Sprat Poems by the Earl of Dorset Samuel Johnson, Vanity of Human Wishes (1749), and one of the 1750 Rambler papers. [#13350]
EXTRA SERIES:
Lewis Theobald, Preface to Shakespeare's Works (1733) [#16346]
A few copies of the early publications of the Society are still available at the original rate.
GENERAL EDITORS
H. RICHARD ARCHER, William Andrews Clark Memorial Library R.C. BOYS, University of Michigan E.N. HOOKER, University of California, Los Angeles H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., University of California, Los Angeles
PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
First Year (1946-1947)
1. Richard Blackmore's Essay upon Wit (1716), and Addison's Freeholder No. 45 (1716). (I, 1) [#13484]
2. Samuel Cobb's Of Poetry and Discourse on Criticism (1707). (II, 1) [#14528]
3. Letter to A.H. Esq.; concerning the Stage (1698), and Richard Willis' Occasional Paper No. IX (1698). (III, 1) [#14047]
4. Essay on Wit (1748), together with Characters by Flecknoe, and Joseph Warton's Adventurer Nos. 127 and 133. (I, 2) [#14973]
5. Samuel Wesley's Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry (1700) and Essay on Heroic Poetry (1693). (II, 2)
6. Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage (1704) and Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage (1704). (III, 2) [#15656]
Second Year (1947-1948)
7. John Gay's The Present State of Wit (1711); and a section on Wit from The English Theophrastus (1702). (I, 3) [#14800]
8. Rapin's De Carmine Pastorali, translated by Creech (1684). (II, 3) [#14495]
9. T. Hanmer's (?) Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet (1736). (III, 3) [#14899]
10. Corbyn Morris' Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc. (1744). (I, 4) [#16233]
11. Thomas Purney's Discourse on the Pastoral (1717). (II, 4) [#15313]
12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch. (III, 4) [#16335]
Third Year (1948-1949)
13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), The Theatre (1720). (IV, 1) [#15999]
14. Edward Moore's The Gamester (1753). (V, 1) [#16267]
15. John Oldmixon's Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's The British Academy (1712). (VI, 1)
16. Nevil Payne's Fatal Jealousy (1673). (V, 2) [in preparation]
17. Nicholas Rowe's Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespear (1709). (Extra Series, 1) [#16275]
18. Aaron Hill's Preface to The Creation; and Thomas Brereton's Preface to Esther. (IV, 2) [#15870]
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
[Errors and Anomalies Noted by Transcriber:
Introduction (1949): it is unreasonable to expect... text reads is it...
Dedication: Lord-President of Her HAJESTY's most / Honourable Privy-Council. so in original
Act I Ad I long to know their Secrets. The word "ad" with related forms ("adod") occurs several times in the play
Sir Jealousie Traffick The name occurs twice in this form.
Act II _Enter _Mirand_._ _The name occurs in this form four times: twice where the full form _Miranda_ is expected, twice in place of its usual abbreviation _Miran._
Sir Geo. Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me reading "a" uncertain
Act II scene iii (Beat's Marplot all this while he cries Thieves. punctuation and typography as in original
Act II scene iv Sir Fran. No, that's a Miracle! But there's one thing you want... text reads one thing you wan't
Miran. The Gardner describ'd just such another Man text gives two consecutive lines to Marplot
Act IV scene ii (Isabinda throws her self down before the Closet-door as in a Sound. so in original: swound?
Act IV scene iv _Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_ _text reads_ Marplott
Act V scene iv Changes to the Inside the House. so in original
Act V final scene Sir Geo. With all my Heart; call'em in. text reads with all my ]
THE END |
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