Car. Oh, take not this dear Body from my Arms, For if you do, my Soul will follow it.

Jul. What would'st thou have me do?

Car. Be wondrous kind, be lavish of thy Heart, Be generous in thy Love, and give me all.

Jul. Oh Heavens! what mean you? I shall die with fear.

Car. Fear! let coward Lovers fear, who love by halves, We that intirely love are bold in Passion, Like Soldiers fir'd with glory dread no Danger.

Jul. But should we be unthrifty in our Loves, And for one Moment's joy give all away, And be hereafter damn'd to pine at distance?

Car. Mistaken Miser, Love like Money put Into good hands increases every day, Still as you trust me, still the Sum amounts: Put me not off with promise of to morrow, To morrow will take care for new delights, Why shou'd that rob us of a present one?

Jul. Ah, Carlos! How fondly do I listen to thy words, And fain would chide, and fain wou'd boast my Virtue, But mightier Love laughs at those poor delays; And I should doubtless give you all your Julia, Did not my fear prevent my kinder business; —And should Francisco come and find me absent, Or take thee with me, we were lost, my Carlos.

Car. When then, my Julia, shall we meet again?

Jul. You Spaniards are a jealous Nation, But in this English Spaniard Old Francisco, That mad Passion's doubled; wholly deprives him of his Sense, and turns his Nature Brute; wou'd he but trust me only with my Woman, I wou'd contrive some way to see my Carlos.

Car. 'Tis certain, Julia, that thou must be mine.

Jul. Or I must die, my Carlos.

[Ant. listning advances.

Ant.—I'm sure 'tis Carlos's voice, and with a Woman; And though he be my Rival but in Jest, I have a natural curiosity to see who 'tis he entertains.

Jul. Oh Heavens! Sir, here's Francisco; step aside, Lest mischief shou'd befall you. [Runs in.

Car. Now Love and wild Desire prompt me to kill this happy Rival,— he's old, and can't be long in his Arrears to Nature.—What if I paid the debt? [Draws halfway. One single push wou'd do't, and Julia's mine;—but, hang't, Adultery is a less sin than Murder, and I will wait my Fortune.—

Ant. Where are you,—Don Carlos?

Car. Who's there, Antonio? I took thee for my Rival, and ten to one but I had done thy business.

Ant. I heard ye talking and believ'd you safe, and came in hopes to get a little time to speak to Clara in;—hah!—Jacinta—

Jac. Who's there, Antonio? [Peeping out of the door.

Ant. The same; may I not speak with Clara?

Jac. Come in, she's here.—

Car. And prithee, dear Jacinta, let me have one word with Julia more, she need not fear surprize; just at the door let me but kiss her hand. [Going in.

Jac. I'll see if I can bring her.—

Enter Francisco.

Fran. A proud ungracious Flirt,—a Lord with a Pox! here's a fine business, i'faith, that she should be her own Carver,—well I'll home, and thunder her together with a vengeance.

Car. Who's here? sure this is he indeed; I'll step aside, lest my being seen give him an occasion of jealousy, and make him affront his Wife. [Goes aside as Fran. was going in.

Enter Julia.

Fran. Hum, what have we here, a Woman?

Jul. Heavens! what, not gone yet, my Dear?

Fran. So, so, 'tis my confounded Wife, who expecting some body wou'd have me gone now.

Jul. Are you not satisfied with all I've said, With all the Vows I've made, Which here anew, in sight of Heaven, I breathe?

Fran. Yes, yes, you can promise fair, but hang him that trusts ye.

Jul. Go, go, and pray be satisfyed with my eternal Love.—

Fran. How fain she'd have me gone now; ah, subtle Serpent! is not this plain demonstration,—I shall murder her, I find the Devil great with me. [Aside still.

Jul.—What is't thou pausest on?

Fran. The wicked Dissimulation of villainous Woman. [Aloud to her.

Jul. Francisco!

Fran. Oh thou Monster of Ingratitude, have I caught thee? You'd have me gone, wou'd ye? ay, to Heaven, I believe, like a wicked Woman as you are, so you were rid of me. Go,—and be satisfyed of my eternal love —ah, Gipsey,—no, Gentlewoman, I am a tuff bit, and will hold you tugging till your heart ake.

Jul. Why, was there such hurt in desiring you to go that you might make haste back again,—Oh, my fears!

Fran. That you might receive a Lover,—'tis plain—and my Indignation's high.

Jul. Heav'n knows I meant—

Fran. Only to cuckold me a little,—get you in,—where I will swear thee by Bell, Book and Candle,—get you in, I say,—go, go,—I'll watch for your Lover, and tell him how unkind he was to stay so long, I will.—

[Ex. Julia, he stands just in the door, Carlos advances.

Car. I hear no noise, sure 'twas he,—and he's gone in— To reap those Joys he knows not how to value, And I must languish for; I'll stay a little—perhaps Jacinta may return again, for anything belonging to my Julia is dear, even to my Soul.

[Goes just to the door, Fran. bolts out on him.

Fran. Who's there?—what wou'd you have?—who wou'd you speak to?—who do you come from?—and what's your business?

Car. Hah, 'tis the Sot himself;—my name is Carlos.

Fran. Carlos! what Father of Belzebub sent him hither?—a plain case;—I'll murder her out of hand.

Car.—And I wou'd speak to any body, Friend, that belongs to the fair Clara,—if you are any of this house.

Fran. Only the Cuckold of the house, that's all;—my name, Sir, is Francisco; but you, perhaps, are better acquainted with my Wife.

Car. Francisco, let me embrace you, my noble Brother, and chide you, that you wou'd not visit me. [Going to embrace him, he flies off.

Fran. And bring my Wife along with me.

Car. Both had been welcome—and all I have, you shou'd command.

Fran. For my Wife's sake—what if I shou'd pistol him now;—and I am damnably provok'd to't, had I but Courage to shoot off one. [Aside.

Car. Methinks you make not so kind returns as my Friendship to you, and the Alliance shall be between us, deserves.

Fran. I am something ill-bred, I confess, Sir;—'tis dark, and if I shou'd do't no body wou'd know 'twas I. [Aside.

Car. I fear there's some Misunderstanding between us, pray let us go in a while, I'll talk you from your error. [Offers to go, he gets between him and the door.

Fran. Between us, Sir! oh Lord, not in the least, Sir, I love and honour you so heartily—I'd be content to give you to the Devil, but the noise of the Pistol wou'd discover the business. [Aside.

Car. Come, let's in, and talk a while.

Fran. I'm sorry I cannot do't, Sir, we are something incommoded being not at our own house.

Car. Brother, I am afraid you are a little inclined to be jealous, that will destroy all Friendship.—

Fran. So, how finely the Devil begins to insinuate!

Car. That makes a Hell of the Heav'n of Love, and those very Pains you fear, are less tormenting than that Fear; what say you, Brother, is't not so with you?

Fran. I find you wou'd have me turn a Husband of the Mode, a fine convenient Tool, one of the modern Humour, a civil Person, that understands Reason, or so; and I doubt not but you wou'd be as modish a Gallant.

Car. Ha, ha, ha.

Fran. What, do you laugh, Sir?

Car. Who can chuse, to hear your Suspicions, your needless Fears. Come, come, trust your Wife's Discretion, and Modesty—and I doubt not but you will find your self—

Fran. In the Road to Heaven, whither they say all Cuckolds go—I thank you for your advice; I perceive you wou'd willingly help me onwards of my Journey.

Car. I'm glad I know you, Sir,—farewel to you— [Goes out.

Fran. No matter for that, so you know not my Wife—and so farewel to you, Sir, and, the Devil take all Cuckoldmakers.

[Exit.



SCENE III. The inside of the House.

Enter Clara, Julia, Antonio, Jacinta running to 'em.

Jac. He has seen Don Carlos, and they have been in great discourse together, I cou'd not hear one word, but you'll have it at both ears anon, I'll warrant you. Ha, he's coming.

Enter Francisco.

Cla. Heavens, he must not see you here. [To Ant.

Jac. Here, step into Clara's Bed-chamber. [He goes in.

Fran. So the Plot's at last discover'd,—he was a Cavalier of his Parole.

Jul. Who speak you of?

Fran. Only the Governor, the fine young Governor, I deliver'd him the message, told him my mind and the like.

Jul. So kind to visit us, and have you sent him away already?

Fran. Ah, Witch; already! why, have I any lodging for him?

Jul. But I am glad you brought him not in, I being so unready.

Fran. But you are always ready for him, my dear victorious Man-slayer.

Jul. What means he, sure he has a Gad-bee in his Brain.

Fran. Satan's she Advocate—peace, I say;—so, you look as innocently now, as a little Devil of two years old, I'll warrant;—come, come, look me full in the face—thus,—turn your nose just to mine—so—now tell me whose damnable Plot this was, to send your Gallant with his Eloquence, Querks and Conundrums, to tutor me into better manners?

Jul. Send him! I'll answer no such idle questions.

Fran. He has taken a world of pains about your particular Chapter, and no doubt but he preach'd according to instructions;—what say you for your self, that Judgment may not pass?

Jul. I say you're an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don Carlos, or heard from Don Carlos, or sent to Don Carlos? here's a-do indeed.

Fran. What made you at the door against my positive commands,—the very Street-door,—in the night,—alone,—and undrest,—this is a matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,—a plain case,—and presently, after Don Carlos comes to the door,—positive proof,—sees me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,—clear conviction,—'twas pity but I had follow'd his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student in Divinity;—but no matter, I'll see your back fairly turn'd upon this Town to morrow; I'll marry my Daughter in the morning to Antonio, and a fair wind or not, we'll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour— therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this world.

Ant. How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;—and carry his Wife from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [Aside peeping.

Fran. And so, Mistress, come your ways to your Chamber.

Jul. And study how to prevent this cruel separation. [Aside, goes out with him and Jacinta.

Cla. Ah, Antonio, I find by that sad look of yours, you have over-heard our hasty Doom.

Ant. I have, and am a little surpriz'd at the suddenness of it; and I my self am the unlucky occasion of it,—to break it off, I told my Father how scurvily Isabella treated me,—he thereupon sends for old Francisco, tells him of my complaint, and instead of disengaging my self, I find my self more undone.

Cla. What shall we do? I'm sure thou wilt not marry her, thou canst not do't and hope to go to Heaven.

Ant. No, I have one prevention left, and if that fail, I'll utterly refuse to marry her, a thing so vainly proud; no Laws of Nature or Religion, sure, can bind me to say yes; and for my Fortune, 'tis my own, no Father can command it.

Cla. I know thou wilt be true, and I'll not doubt it.

Enter Jacinta.

Jac. Ah! Madam, the saddest news—

Cla. Hah! what?

Jac. Poor Gentleman, I pity you of all things in the World,—you must be forc'd—how can I utter it,—to the most lamentable torment that ever Lover endur'd—to remain all night in your Mistress's Chamber.

Ant. Alas, how shall I endure so great an Affliction?

Cla. And I.

Jac. Ha, ha, ha, how I am griev'd to think on it; ha, ha, ha, that you shou'd both be so hardly put to it; ha, ha, ha, for the old Gentleman has lock'd all the doors, and took the keys to bed to him,—go, get you in,—ha, ha, ha.—

Ant. Oh, my dear Clara, this is a blessing I could not hope.

Cla. So large a Freedom shall my Virtue prove, I'll trust my Honour with Antonio's Love.

[They go in.

[Ex. Jacinta laughing.



ACT III.

SCENE I. Don Carlos' house.

Enter Don Carlos in his Night-gown, Antonio, and Guzman with Clothes.

Car. All night with Clara say'st thou? that was lucky; But was she kind, my friend?

Ant. As I desir'd, or Honour wou'd permit her; Nor wou'd I press her farther.

Car. A very moderate Lover.

Ant. For some part of my Virtue, Sir, I owe to you; in midst of all my Love, even in the kindest moments of Delight, my Joys were broken by concern for you.—Julia this day, or very suddenly, leaves Cadiz.

Car. By Heaven, and so will Carlos then; for I'm so resolutely bent to possess that dear Creature, That I will do't with hazard of my Life, Expence of Fortune, or what's dear to me.

Guz. And how wou'd you reward that politick head, that shou'd contrive the means to bring this handsomly about; not for an a hour, or a night, but even as long as you please, with freedom; without the danger of venturing your honourable neck, in showing Feats of Activity three stories high, with a Dagger in one hand, and a Pistol in t'other, like a Ropedancer?

Car. But how? Thou talkest of Impossibilities.

Ant. Dost think she'll e'er consent to quit her Husband?

Guz. No, Heaven forbid, I am too good a Christian to part Man and Wife; but being naturally inclined to works of Charity, I will with one project I have in this noddle of mine,—make old Francisco a Cuckold, accommodate my Lord and Julia, serve you, Sir,—and give our selves a good Scene of Mirth.

Car. Thou amazest me.

Guz. If I do't not, send me to the Galleys; nay, and so far cure the Jealousy of the old Fellow, that from a rigid suspicious troublesom Fool, he shall become so tame and gentle a Husband,—that he shall desire you to favour him so much as to lie with his dear Wife.

Car. By what strange Witchcraft shall this be brought to pass?

Guz. E'en honest Invention, Sir, good Faith, listen and believe:—When he goes, he certainly goes by Sea, to save the charges of Mules.

Ant. Right, I heard him say so; in the Galley that lies in the Port.

Guz. Good, there is a Galley also, in the Harbour, you lately took from the Turks; Habits too were taken in her enough to furnish out some forty or fifty as convenient Turks as a man wou'd wish at the Devil.

Car. Ah, Rogue, I begin to apprehend already.

Guz. Our Turkish Galley thus man'd, I'll put to Sea, and about a League from Land, with a sham-fight set on that of Old Francisco, take it, make 'em all Slaves, clap the Old Fellow under hatches, and then you may deal with the fair Slave his Wife, as Adam did with Eve.

Car. I'm ravish'd with the thought.

Ant. But what will be the event of this?

Car. I will not look so far, but stop at the dear Joys, and fear no Fate beyond 'em.

Guz. Nay, with a little cudgelling this dull Brain of mine I shall advance it farther for the Jest-sake;—as I take it, Signior Don Antonio, you have a fine Villa, within a Bow-shot of this City belonging to your self.

Ant. I have with pleasant Gardens, Grotto's, Waterworks.—

Car. A most admirable Scene for Love and our Designs.

Ant. 'Tis yours, Sir.

Guz. Then, Sir, when we have taken this old Fool, on whom the grossest cheat wou'd pass, much more this, which shall carry so seeming a Truth in't, he being clapt under hatches in the Dark, we'll wind round a League or two at Sea, turn in, and land at this Garden, Sir, of yours, which we'll pretend to be a Seraglio, belonging to the Grand Seignior; whither, in this hot part o'th' year, he goes to regale himself with his She-Slaves.

Car. But the distance of Place and Time allow not such a Fallacy.

Guz. Why he never read in's life; knows neither Longitude nor Latitude, and Constantinople may be in the midst of Spain for any thing he knows; besides, his Fear will give him little leisure for thinking.

Ant. But how shall we do with the Seamen of this other Gally?

Guz. There's not above a Dozen, besides the Slaves that are chain'd to the Oar, and those Dozen, a Pistole apiece wou'd not only make 'em assist in the design, but betray it in earnest to the Grand Seignior; —for them I'll undertake, the Master of it being Pier de Sala, your Father's old Servant, Sir. [To Carlos.

Ant. But possibly his mind may alter upon the Arrival of this False Count of ours?

Car. No matter, make sure of those Seamen however; that they may be ready upon occasion.

Ant. 'Tis high time for me that your Count were arriv'd, for this morning is destin'd the last of my Liberty.

Car. This Morning—Come, haste and dress me— [To Guz.]—Guzman, where's our Count?

Enter Guiliom drest fine, two great Pages and a little one following.

Guz. Coming to give you the good morrow, Sir; And shew you how well he looks the Part.

Car. Good day to your Lordship— [Bowing.

Guil. Morrow, morrow, Friend.

Ant. My Lord, your most humble Servant.

Guil. Thank you, Friend, thank you; Page, Boy—what's a-Clock, Sirrah?

Page. About Eight, my Lord.

Ant. Your Lordship's early up.

Guil. My Stomach was up before me, Friend; and I'm damnably hungry; 'tis strange how a man's Appetite increases with his Greatness; I'll swinge it away now I'm a Lord,—then I will wench without Mercy; I'm resolv'd to spare neither Man, Woman, nor Child, not I; hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, my Breakfast, quickly, Dogs—let me see, what shall I have now that's rare?

Page. What will your Honour please to have?

Guil. A small rasher of delicate Bacon, Sirrah—of about a Pound, or two, with a small Morsel of Bread—round the Loaf, d'ye hear, quickly, Slaves.

Ant. That's gross meat, Sir, a pair of Quails—or—

Guil. I thank you for that, i'faith, take your Don again, an you please, I'll not be starv'd for ne'er a Don in Christendom.

Ant. But you must study to refine your Manners a little.

Guil. Manners! you shall pardon me for that; as if a Lord had not more privilege to be more saucy, more rude, impertinent, slovenly and foolish than the rest of his Neighbours, or Mankind.

Car. Ay, ay, 'tis great.

Guil. Your saucy Rudeness, in a Grandee, is Freedom; your Impertinence, Wit; your Sloven, careless; and your Fool, good natur'd; as least they shall pass so in me, I'll warrant ye.

Car. Well, you have your full Instructions; your Baggage, Bills and Letters, from Octavio the Sevilian Merchant.

Guz. All, all, Sir, are ready, and his Lordship's breakfast waits.

Car. Which ended, we advance, Just when Aurora rose from Thetis' Bed, Where he had wantoned a short Summer's night, Harness'd his bright hoov'd Horses to begin His gilded course above the Firmament, Out sallied Don Gulielmo Rodorigo de Chimney Sweperio, and so forth. Gad, this adventure of ours will be worthy to be sung in Heroick Rhime Doggerel, before we have finisht it; Come— [Goes out.

Guil. Hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, follow me just behind.

[Exeunt.



SCENE II. Francisco's house.

Enter Clara and Jacinta.

Jac. Nay, I knew he would be civil, Madam, or I would have borne you Company; but neither my Mistress nor I, cou'd sleep one wink all Night, for fear of a Discovery in the Morning; and to save the poor Gentleman a tumbling Cast from the Window, my Mistress, just at day-break, feigned her self wondrous sick,—I was called, desired to go to Signior Spadilio's the Apothecary's, at the next Door, for a Cordial; and so he slipt out;—but the Story of this false Count pleases me extremely, and, if it should take, Lord, what mirth we shall have. Ha, ha, ha, I can't forbear with the thoughts on't.

Cla. And to see the Governor his Man?

Jac. Ah, what a Jest that would be too—Ha, ha, ha! but here comes Isabella; let's puff up her Pride with Flatteries on her Beauty.

Enter Isabella looking in a Glass, and seeing her Face.

Isa. Ah, Heavens, those Eyes—that Look,—that pretty Leer,—that my Father shou'd be so doating an old Fool to think these Beauties fit for a little Merchandize; a Marchioness wou'd so much better become me. [Looks again. —Ah, what a Smile's there—and then that scornful Look—'tis great— Heavens, who's here? [Sees them.

Cla. Only those Friends that wish you better Fortune than this day promises.

Jac. Look on that Face; are there not Lines that foretel a world of Greatness, and promise much Honour?

Cla. Her Face, her Shape, her Mein, her every part declares her Lady—or something more.

Isa. Why, so, and yet this little Creature of a Father, ridiculously and unambitious, would spoil this Lady, to make up a simple Citizen's Wife—in good time.

Jac. That very look had some presaging Grandeur.

Isa. Do you think so, Jacinta? Ha, ha, ha.

Jac. That Laugh again, oh Heavens, how it charms!

Cla. And how graceful 'tis!

Jac. Ah, nothing but a great gilt Coach will become it.

Cla. With six Spanish Mares.—

Jac. And embroidered Trappings.

Cla. With four Lackeys.

Jac. And a Page at the tail on't.

Cla. She's evidently design'd for a Person of Quality.

Isa. Besides I have so natural an Inclination for a Don, that if my Father do force me to marry this small Creature of a Merchant, I shall make an Intrigue with some body of Quality.

Cla. Cou'd you but manage it well, and keep it from Antonio.

Isa. Keep it from Antonio,—is it think you for a little silly Cit, to complain when a Don does him the Honour to visit his Lady? Marry, that were pretty.

Enter Francisco, and Lopez.

Fran. How, a Count to speak with me! with me, I say,—here at Cadiz.

Lop. A Count, Sir, and to speak with you.

Fran. Art sure 'tis not the Governor?—I'll go lock up my Wife.

Lop. Governor, Sir! No, no, 'tis a mere Stranger, Sir, a rare Count whom I never saw all days of my life before.

Fran. And with me wou'd he speak? I hope he comes not to my Wife.

Enter Julia.

Jul. Oh Husband, the delicatest fine Person of Quality, just alighted at the Door, Husband.

Fran. What, have you seen him then? the Devil's in these Women, and there be but a Loop-hole to peep out of they'll spy a man,—I'm resolved to see this thing,—go, retire, you Women, here's Men coming up.

Isa. And will Men eat us?

Fran. No, but they may do worse, they may look on ye, and Looking breeds Liking; and Liking, Love; and Love a damn'd thing, call'd Desire; and Desire begets the Devil and all of Mischief to young Wenches—Get ye gone in, I say—here's a Lord coming—and Lords are plaguy things to Women.

Isa. How, a Lord! oh, heavens! Jacinta, my Fan, and set my Hair in order, oh, the Gods! I would not but see a Lord for all the World! how my Heart beats already—keep your Distance behind, Jacinta,—bless me, how I tremble—a little farther, Jacinta.

Fran. Come, come, Huswife, you shall be married anon, and then let your Husband have the plague of you—but for my Gentlewoman,—Oh Lord —they're here.

Enter Guiliom, Carlos, and Pages, &c.

Gull. How now, Fellow, where's this old Don Francisco?

Fran. I'm the Person, Sir.

Isa. Heavens, what an Air he has!

Guil. Art thou he? Old Lad, how dost thou do? Hah!

Fran. I don't know.

Guil. Thou knowest me not it seems, old Fellow, hah!

Fran. Know you—no, nor desire to do,—on what acquaintance, pray?

Guil. By Instinct; such as you ought to know a Person of Quality, and pay your Civilities naturally; in France, where I have travel'd, so much good manners is used, your Citizen pulls off his hat, thus—to every Horse of Quality, and every Coach of Quality; and do you pay my proper Person no more respect, hah!

Isa. What a Dishonour's this to me, to have so dull a Father, that needs to be instructed in his Duty.

Guil. But, Sir, to open the eyes of your understanding—here's a Letter to you, from your Correspondent a Merchant of Sevil.

[Gives him a dirty Letter which he wipes on his Cloke and reads, and begins to pull off his hat, and reading on bows lower and lower till he have finisht it.

Fran. Cry Mercy, my Lord,—and yet I wou'd he were a thousand Leagues off.

Guil. I have Bills of Exchange too, directed to thee, old Fellow, at Sevil; but finding thee not there, and I (as most Persons of my Quality are) being something idle, and never out of my way, came to this Town, to seek thee, Fellow—being recommended as thou seest here, old Vermin—here— [Gives him Bills.

Isa. Ah, what a graceful Mein he has! how fine his Conversation! ah, the difference between him and a filthy Citizen!

Jul.—Clara has told me all.— [Jac. whispering to Jul.

Car. That's she in the middle; stand looking on her languishingly, —your head a little on one side,—so,—fold your Arms,—good,—now and then heave your breast with a sigh,—most excellent.— [He groans.

Fran. Bills for so many thousands.

Jac. He has you in his eye already.

Isa. Ah, Jacinta, thou flatterest me.

Jac. Return him some kind looks in pity. [She sets her Eyes, and bows, &c.

Car. That other's my Mistress,—couldst thou but keep this old Fellow in discourse whilst I give her the sign to retire a little.—

Guil. I'll warrant you I'll banter him till you have cuckolded him, if you manage matters as well as I.

Fran. My Lord, I ask your pardon for my rudeness in not knowing you before, which I ought to have done in good manners I confess; who the Devil does he stare at so?—Wife, I command you to withdraw, upon pain of our high displeasure.—my Lord, I shall dispatch your affairs,—he minds me not,—Ay, 'tis my Wife, I say, Minion, be gone,—your Bills, my Lord, are good, and I accept 'em;—why a Devil he minds me not yet, [Julia goes to t'other side to Carlos.]—and though I am not at my proper home,—I am where I can command Money,—hum,—sure 'tis my Daughter,—Ay, ay,—'tis so, how if he should be smitten now; the plaguy Jade had sure the Spirit of Prophecy in her; 'tis so—'tis she—my Lord.

Guil. Prithee, old Fellow, Peace,—I am in love.

Fran. In love,—what, shall I be the Father of a Lord? wou'd it become me, think ye?—he's mighty full of Cogitabund—my Lord,—sure his Soul has left the Tenement of his Body—I have his Bills here, and care not if it never return more. [Looks over the Bills.

Car. Dear Julia, let's retire, our time's but short.

Jul. I dare not with you, the venture wou'd be too bold in a young beginner in the Thefts of Love.

Guil. Her Eyes are Suns, by Jove.

Car. Oh, nothing is so ventrous as Love, if it be true.

Guil. Or else, two Morning Stars, All other Beauties are but Soot to her.

Jul. But shou'd my Husband—

Car. He's safe for one dear half hour, I'll warrant you, come.

Fran. Um—my Wife here still, must I begin to thunder.

Jul. Lord, and you be so froward, I'll be gone.—

Car. So, her Husband, kind heart, lest she should be cruel, has himself given me the dear opportunity.—[Aside.—Be sure you keep the old Fellow in discourse awhile.

Guil. Be you as sure to cuckold him.— [Ex. Car. and Jul. —Old Fellow,—prithee what Person of Quality is that?

Fran. Person of Quality! alas, my Lord, 'tis a silly Citizen's Daughter.

Guil. A Citizen's! what clod of Earth cou'd bring forth such a Beauty?

Fran. Alas, my Lord, I am that clod of Earth, and to Earth, if you call it so, she must return again, for she's to be married to a Citizen this Morning.

Guil. Oh! I am doubly wounded, first with her harmonious Eyes, Who've fir'd my Heart to that Degree, No Chimney ever burnt like me. Fair Lady,—suffer the Broom of my Affection to sweep all other Lovers from your heart.

Isa. Ah, my Lord, name it not, I'm this day to be married.

Guil. To day! name me the Man; Man did I say? the Monster, that dares lay claim to her I deign to love,—none answer me,—I'll make him smoak, by Vulcan—and all the rest of the Goddesses.

Fran. Bless me, what a furious thing this Love is?

Guil. By this bright Sword, that is so used to slaughter, he dies; [Draws.] old Fellow, say—the Poltroon's name.

Fran. Oh, fearful—alas, dread Sir!

Isa. Ah! sheath your Sword, and calm your generous Rage.

Guil. I cannot brook a Rival in my Love, the rustling Pole of my Affection is too strong to be resisted. Runs raging up and down the Stage with his Sword in his hand.

Isa. I cannot think, my Lord, so mean a Beauty can so suddenly charm a Heart so great as yours.

Guil. Oh! you're mistaken, as soon as I cast my eyes upon the Full-moon of your Countenance, I was struck blind and dumb.

Fran. Ay, and deaf too, I'll be sworn, he cou'd neither hear, see nor understand; this Love's a miraculous thing.

Guil. And that Minute, the most renoun'd Don Gulielmo Roderigo de Chimeny Sweperio, became your Gally-Slave,—I say no more, but that I do love,—and I will love,—and that if you are but half so willing as I, I will dub you, Viscountess de Chimeny Sweperio.

Isa. I am in Heaven, ah! I die, Jacinta. How can I credit this, that am so much unworthy?

Guil. I'll do't, say no more, I'll do't.

Fran. Do't, but, my Lord, and with what face can I put off Signior Antonio, hum.

Guil. Antonio,—hy, Pages, give order that Antonio be instantly run through the Lungs—d'ye hear?

Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! run through the Lungs!

Page. It shall be done, my Lord! but what Antonio?

Guil. Why, any Antonio; all the Antonio's that you find in Cadiz.

Fran. Oh, what bloody-minded Monsters these Lords are!—But, my Lord, I'll ne'er give you the trouble of killing him, I'll put him off with a handsom Compliment; as thus,—Why, look ye, Friend Antonio, the business is this, my Daughter Isabella may marry a Lord, and you may go fiddle.—

Guil. Ay, that's civil,—and if he do not desist, I'll unpeople Spain but I'll kill him; for, Madam, I'll tell you what happened to me in the Court of France—there was a Lady in the Court in love with me,—she took a liking to my Person which—I think,—you will confess—

Isa. To be the most accomplisht in the World.

Guil. I had some sixscore Rivals, they all took Snuff; that is, were angry—at which I smiled;—they were incensed; at which I laught, ha, ha, ha,—i'faith; they rag'd, I—when I met 'em,—Cockt, thus—en passant—justled 'em—thus,—[Overthrows Fran.] They turn'd and frown'd,—thus,—I drew.—

Fran. What, on all the sixscore, my Lord?

Guil. All, all; sa, sa, quoth I, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa, sa. [Fences him round the Stage.

Fran. Hold, hold, my Lord, I am none of the sixscore.

Guil. And run 'em all through the Body!

Fran. Oh Heavens! and kill'd 'em all.

Guil. Not a Man,—only run 'em through the body a little, that's all, my two Boys were by, my Pages here.

Isa. Is it the fashion, Sir, to be attended by Pages so big?

Guil. Pages of Honour always;—these were stinted at nurse, or they had been good proper Fellows.

Fran. I am so frighted with this relation, that I must up to my Wife's Chamber for a little of that strong Cordial that recovered her this morning. [Going out Guil. stays him.

Guil. Why, I'll tell you, Sir, what an odd sort of a Wound I received in a Duel the other day,—nay, Ladies, I'll shew it you; in a very odd place—in my back parts. [Goes to untuck his Breeches, the Ladies squeak.

Isa. Ah.

Page. Shew a Wound behind, Sir! the Ladies will think you are a Coward.

Guil. Peace, Child, peace, the Ladies understand Dueling as little as my self; but, since you are so tender-hearted, Ladies, I'll not shew you my wound; but faith, it spoiled my dancing.

Page comes in.

Page. My Lord, now you talk of dancing, here's your Baggage brought from a-board the Gally by your Seamen, who us'd to entertain you with their rustick Sports.

Guil. Very well; Sir, with your permission, I am resolved whether you will or no, to give the Ladies some divertisement,—bid 'em come in; nay, Sir, you stir not. [Ex. Page. 'Tis for your delight, Sir, I do't; for, Sir, you must understand, a Man, if he have any thing in him, Sir, of Honour, for the case, Sir, lies thus, 'tis not the business of an Army to droll upon an Enemy—truth is, every man loves a whole skin;—but 'twas the fault of the best Statesmen in Christendom to be loose in the hilts,—you conceive me.

Fran. Very well, my Lord, I'll swear he's a rare spoken man;—why, what a Son-in-law shall I have? I have a little business, my Lord, but I'll wait on you presently. [Going out.

Guil. Sir, there is nothing like your true jest; a thing once well done, is twice done, and I am the happiest Man in the World in your Alliance; for, Sir, a Nobleman if he have any tolerable parts,—is a thing much above the Vulgar;—oh,—here comes the Dancers.

Enter Dancers.

Come, sit down by me.

Fran. 'Tis my duty to stand, my Lord.

Guil. Nay, you shall sit.

[They dance.

Enter Antonio.

Ant. Good day, Sir, I hope you will not chide my tardiness, I have a little overslept my self, and am ashamed to see my lovely Bride, and all this worthy Company attend. —But you, fair Creature— [To Isabella.

Isa. No marrying to day, Sir.

Fran. No, Sir, no marrying to day.

Ant. How, do I dream, or hear this from Francisco?

Guil. How now, Fellow, what art thou?

Ant. The Husband of that proud disdainful Woman.

Guil. Another word like that—and thou art—

Ant. What, Sir?

Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my Lord! Antonio, I must tell you, you're uncivil.

Guil. Dost know, dull Mortal, that I am a Lord, And Isabella my adopted Lady.

Ant. I beg your pardon, Sir, if it be so, poor Mortals can but grieve in silence.

Guil. Alas, poor Mortal!

Ant. But, for you, Francisco.

Fran. Ah, dear Antonio, I vow and swear I cannot chuse but weep to lose thee; but my Daughter was born for a Lady, and none can help their destiny.

Ant. And is it possible thou canst use me thus? [To Isa.

Isa. Take away that little Fellow; in pity of your life, I deign to bid you withdraw and be safe.

Guil. D'ye hear, hah?—this Lady has beg'd your life.

Ant. Beg'd my Life!

Guil. Vile Wretch, dar'st thou retort? [Draws, the Women hold him.

Fran. Oh, hold, hold, my noble Son-in-law, he shall do any thing;— dear Antonio, consider, I was never Father to a Lord all days of my Life before:—my Lord, be pacified, my Daughter shall be a Lady.

Isa. For my sake spare him, and be Friends with him, as far as you may deign to be with a little Citizen.

Guil. Fellow, I forgive thee,—here's my hand to kiss in sign and token I am appeased. [Gives him his hand to kiss, 'tis all black.

Ant. A Pox of his honourable hand, 't had like to have spoiled all, —well, since it must be so, I am content.

Guil. So, now Peace is concluded on, on all sides, what shall we do to day besides eating and drinking in abundance; for to morrow I shall get my self in order for my Marriage.

Cla. What thinks your Honour of taking the Air upon the Sea, in a Galley, a League or two?

Guil. With Fiddles, Drums and Trumpets, Westphalia hams and Pidgeons, and the like: Hey, Rogues, Scoundrels, Dogs.

Isa. Ah, how fine is every Action of a great Man!

Guil. Command a Galley to attend us presently. —You shall along, old Boy. [To Fran.

Fran. Alas, I must stay at home with my Wife, my Lord.

Guil. A Wife! have I a Mother-in-law too?—she must along with us, and take a frisk,—no denial.

Enter Carlos.

—Oh, are you come? [Aside.

Car. Yes, and thank thee for the best moment of my Life—Hast thou contrived the Voyage then?

Guil. Take no care—come, haste on board—our Honour will not lose the Fresco of the Morning,—Follow me, Pages.

Page. At your heels, my Lord—

[Exeunt.



ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter, as aboard the Ship, Guiliom, Isabella, Francisco, Julia, Antonio, Clara, Jacinta, Pedro and his Wife, Pages.

Guil. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are very welcome aboard—Come, put off to Sea, Rogues, Scoundrels, Tarpaulins, to your Business, and then, every man his Bottle,—hey, Page, Rogues, where are my Men? Come, spread the Table—for we are very hungry.

Isa. Heav'ns, what a peculiar Grace there is in every word that comes from the Mouth of a Cavalier.

Guil. By Mars, the God of Love!

Page. By Cupid, Sir. [Aside to him.

Guil. Cupid, Sirrah! I say, I'll have it Mars, there's more Thunder in the Sound: I say, by Mars, these Gallies are pretty neat convenient Tenements—but a—I see ne'er a Chimney in 'em:—Pox on't, what have I to do with a Chimney now?

Isa. He is a delicate fine Person, Jacinta; but, methinks he does not make Love enough to me.

Jac. Oh, Madam, Persons of his Quality never make Love in Words, the greatness of their Actions show their Passion.

Jac. Ay, 'tis true all the little Fellows talk of Love.

Guil. Come, Ladies, set; Come, Isabella, you are melancholy,—Page —Fill my Lady a Beer-glass.

Isa. Ah, Heav'ns, a Beer-glass.

Guil. O, your Viscountess never drinks under your Beer-glass, your Citizens Wives simper and sip, and will be drunk without doing Credit to the Treater; but in their Closets, they swinge it away, whole Slashes, i'faith, and egad, when a Woman drinks by her self, Glasses come thick about: your Gentlewoman, or your little Lady, drinks half way, and thinks in point of good manners, she must leave some at the bottom; but your true bred Woman of Honour drinks all, Supernaculum, by Jove.

Isa. What a misfortune it was, that I should not know this before, but shou'd discover my want of so necessary a piece of Grandeur.

Jac. And nothing, but being fuddled, will redeem her Credit.

Guil. Come—fall to, old Boy,—thou art not merry; what, have we none that can give us a Song?

Ant. Oh Sir, we have an Artist aboard I'll assure you; Signior Cashier, shall I beg the favour of you to shew your Skill?

Pet. Sir, my Wife and I'm at your service.

Guil. Friend, what Language can you sing?

Pet. Oh, Sir, your Singers speak all Languages.

Guil. Say'st thou so, prithee then let's have a touch of Heathen Greek.

Pet. That you shall, Sir, Sol la me fa sol, &c.

Fran. Hum, I think this is indeed Heathen Greek, I'm sure 'tis so to me.

Guil. Ay, that may be, but I understand every word on't.

Fran. Good lack, these Lords are very learned Men.

Pet. Now, Sir, you shall hear one of another Language from my Wife and I. [Sing a Dialogue in French.

Enter the Captain.

Capt. Well, Gentlemen, though the news be something unpleasant that I bring, yet to noble minds 'tis sport and pastime.

Guil. Hah, Fellow! What's that that's sport and pastime to noble minds.

Fran. Oh Lord, no goodness, I'll warrant.

Capt. But, Gentlemen, pluck up your Spirits, be bold and resolute.

Fran. Oh Lord, bold and resolute! why, what's the matter, Captain?

Capt. You are old, Signior, and we expect no good from you but Prayers to Heaven?

Fran. Oh Lord, Prayers to Heaven! Why, I hope, Captain, we have no need to think of Heaven.

Capt. At your own Peril be it then, Signior, for the Turks are coming upon us.

Fran. Oh Lord, Turks, Turks!

[Ex. Cap.

Guil. Turks, oh, is that all? [Falls to eating.

Fran. All—why, they'll make Eunuchs of us, my Lord, Eunuchs of us poor men, and lie with all our Wives.

Guil. Shaw, that's nothing, 'tis good for the Voice.—how sweetly we shall sing, ta, la, ta la la, ta la, &c.

Fran. Ay, 'twill make you sing another note, I'll warrant you.

Enter a Seaman.

Sea. For Heaven's sake, Sirs, do not stand idle here; Gentlemen, if you wou'd save your lives,—draw and defend 'em. [Exit.

Fran. Draw! I never drew any thing in my Life, but my Purse, and that most damnably against my will; oh, what shall I do?

Enter Captain.

Capt. Ah, my Lord, they bear up briskly to us, with a fresh Gale and full Sails.

Fran. Oh, dear Captain, let us tack about and go home again.

Capt. 'Tis impossible to scape, we must fight it out.

Fran. Fight it out! oh, I'm not able to indure it,—why, what the Devil made me a ship-board?

[Ex. Cap.

Guil. Why, where be these Turks? set me to 'em, I'll make 'em smoke, Dogs, to dare attack a man of Quality.

Isa. Oh, the Insolence of these Turks! do they know who's aboard? for Heaven's sake, my Lord, do not expose your noble Person.

Guil. What, not fight?—Not fight! A Lord, and not fight? Shall I submit to Fetters, and see my Mistress ravish'd by any great Turk in Christendom, and not fight?

Isa. I'd rather be ravish'd a thousand times, than you should venture your Person.

[Seamen shout within.

Fran. Ay, I dare swear.

Enter Seaman.

Sea. Ah, Sirs, what mean you? Come on the Deck for shame.

Ant. My Lord, let us not tamely fall, there's danger near. [Draws.

Guil. Ay, ay, there's never smoke, but there's some fire—Come, let's away—ta la, tan ta la, la la, &c. [Draws.

[Exit singing, and Antonio and Pet.

Fran. A Pox of all Lords, I say, you must be janting in the Devil's name, and God's dry Ground wou'd not serve your turn. [Shout here. Oh, how they thunder! What shall I do?—oh, for some Auger-hole to thrust my head into, for I could never indure the noise of Cannons,—oh, 'tis insupportable,—intolerable—and not to be indur'd. [Running as mad about the Stage.

Isa. Dear Father, be not so frighted. [Weeps.

Fran. Ah, Crocodile, wou'd thou hadst wept thy Eyes out long ago, that thou hadst never seen this Count; then he had never lov'd thee, and then we had never been invited a ship-board. [A noise of fighting.

Enter Guiliom, Pet. and Antonio, driven in fighting by Guzman and other Turks.

Ant. Ah, Sir, the Turks have boarded us, we're lost, we're lost.

Fran. Oh, I am slain, I'm slain. [Falls down.

Guil. Hold, hold, I say, you are now in the presence of Ladies, and 'tis uncivil to fight before Ladies.

Guz. Yield then, you are our Slaves.

Guil. Slaves, no Sir, we're Slaves to none but the Ladies. [Offers to fight.

Isa. Oh, hold, rude man,—d'ye know whom you encounter?

Guz. What's here—one dead— [Looking on Francisco.

Fran. Oh, Lord!

Guz. Or, if he be not, he's old, and past service, we'll kill the Christian Dog out of the way.

Fran. Oh, hold, hold, I'm no Christian, Gentlemen; but as errant a Heathen as your selves.

Guz. Bind him strait, neck and heels, and clap him under hatches.

Jul. Oh, spare him, Sir, look on his Reverend Age.

Guz. For your sake, Lady, much may be done, we've need of handsom Women. [Gives her to some Turks that are by.

Fran. Hah,—my Wife! My Wife ravish'd—oh, I'm dead.

Jul. Fear not, my dear, I'll rather die than do thee wrong.

Fran. Wou'd she wou'd, quickly,—then there's her Honour sav'd, and her Ransom, which is better.

Guz. Down with the muttering Dog; [He descends. —And takes the Ladies to several Cabins. [The Turks take hold of the Men.

Isa. Must we be parted then?—ah, cruel Destiny! [Weeps.

Guil. Alas! this Separation's worse than Death.

Isa. You possibly may see some Turkish Ladies, that may insnare your Heart, and make you faithless;—but I, ah Heavens! if ever I change my Love, may I become deformed, and lose all hopes of Title or of Grandure.

Guil. But should the Grand Seignior behold thy Beauty, thou wou'dst despise thine own dear hony Viscount to be a Sultana.

Isa. A Sultana, what's that?

Guil. Why, 'tis the great Turk, a Queen of Turkey.

Isa. These dear expressions go to my Heart. [Weeps. And yet a Sultana is a tempting thing— [Aside smiling. —And you shall find your Isabella true,—though the Grand Seignior wou'd lay his Crown at my feet,—wou'd he wou'd try me though—Heavens! to be Queen of Turkey. [Aside.

Guil. May I believe thee,—but when thou seest the difference, alas, I am but a Chimney—hum, nothing to a great Turk.

Isa. Is he so rare a thing?—Oh, that I were a she great Turk. [Aside.

Guz. Come, come, we can't attend your amorous Parleys. [Parts 'em.

Jul. Alas, what shall we poor Women do?

[Ex. Men.

Isa. We must e'en have patience, Madam, and be ravisht.

Cla. Ravisht! Heavens forbid.

Jac. An please the Lord, I'll let my nails grow against that direful day.

Isa. And so will I, for I'm resolv'd none should ravish me but the great Turk.

Guz. Come, Ladies, you are Dishes to be serv'd up to the board of the Grand Seignior.

Isa. Why, will he eat us all?

Guz. A slice of each, perhaps, as he finds his Appetite inclin'd.

Isa. A slice, uncivil Fellow,—as if this Beauty were for a bit and away;—Sir, a word,—if you will do me the favour, to recommend me to be first served up to the Grand Seignior, I shall remember the Civility when I am great.

Guz. Lady, he is his own Carver, a good word by the bye, or so, will do well, and I am—a Favorite—

Isa. Are you so? here, take this Jewel,—in earnest of greater Favours— [Gives him a Jewel.

[Exeunt all.



SCENE II. A Garden.

Enter Don Carlos and Lopez.

Car. But, why so near the Land? by Heaven, I saw each action of the Fight, from yonder grove of Jessamine; and doubtless all beheld it from the Town.

Lop. The Captain, Sir, design'd it so, and at the Harbour gave it out those two Galleys were purposely prepared to entertain the Count and the Ladies with the representation of a Sea-fight; lest the noise of the Guns should alarm the Town, and, taking it for a real fight, shou'd have sent out Supplies, and so have ruin'd our Designs.

Car. Well, have we all things in readiness?

Lop. All, Sir, all.

Enter Page.

Page. My Lord, a Barge from the Galley is just arriv'd at the Garden-Stairs.

Enter Guzman.

Car. I'll retire then, and fit me for my part of this Farce.

Guz. My Lord, you must retire, they're just bringing the Old Gentleman ashore.

Car. Prithee how does he take his Captivity?

Guz. Take it, Sir! he has cast himself into a Fit, and has lain like one in a Trance this half hour; 'tis impossible for him to speak Sense this fortnight; I'll secure his Reason a play-day for so long at least; your Servants, in Turkish habits, are now his Guards, who will keep him safe enough from hindering your designs with Julia.

Car. Whatever you do, have a care you do not overfright the Coxcomb, and make a Tragedy of our Comedy.

Guz. I'll warrant you, Sir, mind your Love-affairs,—he's coming in,—retire, Sir.—

[Ex. Car. and Page and Lop.

Enter some Turks with the body of Francisco in chains, and lay him down on a Bank.

1st Turk. Christian, so ho ho, Slave, awake.— [Rubbing and calling him.

Fran. Hah! where am I?—my Wife,—my Wife—where am I?—hah! what are you?—Ghosts,—Devils,—Mutes,—no answer?—hah, bound in chains, —Slaves, where am I?

1st Turk. They understand not your Language; but I, who am a Renegade Spaniard, understand you when you speak civilly, which I advise you to do.

Fran. Do you know me, Friend?

1st Turk. I know you to be a Slave, and the Great Turk's Slave too.

Fran. The Great Turk,—the Great Devil, why, where am I, Friend?

1st Turk. Within the Territories of the Grand Seignior, and this a Palace of Pleasure, where he recreates himself with his Mistresses.

Fran. And how far is that from Cadiz?—but what care I? my Wife, Friend, my own Wife.

1st Turk. Your own,—a true Musselman cou'd have said no more; but take no care for her, she's provided for.

Fran. Is she dead? That wou'd be some comfort.

1st Turk. No, she's alive, and in good hands.

Fran. And in good hands! oh, my head! and, oh, my heart! ten thousand tempests burst the belly of this day, wherein old Francisco ventur'd Life and Limbs, Liberty and Wife to the mercy of these Heathen Turks.

1st Turk. Friend, you need not thus complain; a good round Ransom redeems ye.

Fran. A round Ransom! I'll rot in my chains first, before I'll part with a round ransom.

1st Turk. You have a fair Wife, and need not fear good usage, if she knows how to be kind. You apprehend me.

Fran. Patience, good Lord.

1st Turk. Perhaps the Grand Seignior may like her, and to be favour'd by him in such a Glory—

Fran. As the Devil take me if I desire.

1st Turk. And then you may in triumph laugh at all the rest of your Brother Cuckolds.

Fran. Hum, and has the Devil serv'd me thus?—but no matter, I must be gadding, like an old Coxcomb, to Cadiz,—and then, jaunting to Sea, with a Pox, to take pains to be a Cuckold, to bring my Wife into a strange Land, amongst Unbelievers, with a vengeance, as if we had not honest Christian Cuckold-makers enough at home; Sot that I was, not to consider how many Merchants have been undone by trusting their Commodities out at Sea; why, what a damn'd ransom will the Rogues exact from me, and more for my Wife, because she's handsome; and then, 'tis ten to one, I have her turned upon my hands the worse for wearing; oh, damn'd Infidels! no, 'tis resolv'd, I'll live a Slave here, rather than enrich them.

1st Turk. Friend, you'll know your Destiny presently; for 'tis the custom of the Great Turk to view the Captives, and consider of their Ransoms and Liberties, according to his pleasure. See, he is coming forth with the Vizier Bassa.

Enter Carlos and Guzman as Turks with Followers.

Most mighty Emperor, behold your Captive.

Fran. Is this the Great Turk?

1st Turk. Peace.

Fran. Bless me! as we at home describe him, I thought the Great Turk had been twice as big; but I shall find him Tyrant big enough, I'll warrant him.

Guz. Of what Nation art thou, Slave? speak to the Emperor, he understands thee, though he deign not to hold discourse with Christian Dogs.

Fran. Oh fearful!—Spain, so please you, Sir.

Guz. By Mahomet, he'll make a reverend Eunuch.

Fran. An Eunuch! oh, Lord!

Turk. Ay, Sir, to guard his Mistresses, 'tis an honour.

Fran. Oh! Mercy, Sir, that honour you may spare, Age has done my business already.

Guz. Fellow, what art?

Fran. An't please your Worship, I cannot tell.

Guz. How, not tell?

Fran. An't please your Lordship, my Fears have so transform'd me, I cannot tell whether I'm any thing or nothing.

Guz. Thy name, dull Mortal, know'st thou not that?

Fran. An't please your Grace, now I remember me, methinks I do.

Guz. Dog, how art thou call'd?

Fran. An't like your Excellence, Men call'd me Signior Don Francisco, but now they will call me Coxcomb.

Guz. Of what Trade?

Fran. An't please your Highness, a Gentleman.

Guz. How much dost thou get a day by that Trade? Hah!

Fran. An't like your Majesty, our Gentlemen never get but twice in all their lives; that is, when Fathers die, they get good Estates; and when they marry, they get rich Wives: but I know what your Mightiness wou'd get by going into my Country and asking the Question.

Guz. What, Fool?

Fran. A good Cudgelling, an't please your Illustriousness.

Guz. Slave! To my Face!—Take him away, and let him have the Strapado.

Car. Baridama, Dermack.

Fran. Heavens, what says he?

I Turk. He means to have you castrated.

Fran. Castrated! Oh, that's some dreadful thing, I'll warrant,— Gracious Great Turk, for Mahomet's sake, excuse me; alas, I've lost my wits.

Car. Galero Gardines?

Guz. The Emperor asks if thou art married, Fellow.

Fran. Hah—Married—I was, an't like your Monsterousness, but, I doubt, your People have spoiled my Property.

Guz. His Wife, with other Ladies, in a Pavillion in the Garden, attend your Royal pleasure.

Car. Go, fetch her hither presently.

[Ex. Guz.

1st Turk. This is no common Honour, that the Great Turk deigns to speak your Language; 'tis to sign you'll rise.

Fran. Yes, by the height of a pair of Horns.

Car. Is she handsom?

Fran. Oh, what an Ague shakes my Heart,—handsom! alas, no, dread Sir; what shou'd such a deform'd Polecat as I do with a handsom Wife?

Car. Is she young?

Fran. Young, what shou'd such an old doting Coxcomb as I do with a young Wife? Pox on him for a Heathen Whoremaster.

Car. Old is she then?

Fran. Ay, very old, an't please your Gloriousness.

Car. Is she not capable of Love?

Fran. Hum, so, so,—like Fire conceal'd in a Tinderbox,—I shall run mad.

Car. Is she witty?

Fran. I'm no competent Judge, an't like your Holiness, —This Catechism was certainly of the Devil's own making. [Aside.

Enter Guzman, bringing in Julia, Clara, Isabella, Jacinta, Guiliom, Antonio, &c. Women veil'd.

Car. These, Sir, are all the Slaves of Note are taken.

Isa. Dost think, Jacinta, he'll chuse me?

Jac. I'll warrant you, Madam, if he looks with my Eyes.

Guz. Stand forth. [To the Men.

Guil. Stand forth, Sir! why, so I can, Sir, I dare show my Face, Sir, before any Great Turk in Christendom.

Car. What are you, Sir?

Guil. What am I, Sir? Why, I'm a Lord, a Lord.

Fran. What, are you mad to own your Quality, he'll ask the Devil and all of a ransom.

Guil. No matter for that, I'll not lose an Inch of my Quality for a King's ransom; disgrace my self before my fair Mistress!

Isa. That's as the Great Turk and I shall agree. [Scornfully.

Car. What are you, Sir?

Ant. A Citizen of Cadiz.

Car. Set 'em by, we'll consider of their ransoms—now unveil the Ladies. [Guzman unveils Jacinta.

Fran. Oh, dear Wife, now or never show thy Love, make a damnable face upon the filthy Ravisher,—glout thy Eyes thus—and thrust out thy upper lip, thus.— [Guzman presents Jacinta.

Guil. Oh, dear Isabella, do thee look like a Dog too.

Isa. No, Sir, I'm resolv'd I'll not lose an Inch of my Beauty, to save so trifling a thing as a Maiden head.

Car. Very agreeable, pretty and chearful—

[She is veil'd and set by: Then Clara is unveil'd.

A most divine bud of Beauty—all Nature's Excellence—drawn to the life in little,—what are you, fair one?

Cla. Sir, I'm a Maid.

Fran. So, I hope he will pitch upon her.

Cla. Only, by promise, Sir, I've given my self away.

Car. What happy Man cou'd claim a title in thee, And trust thee to such danger?

Isa. Heavens, shall I be defeated by this little Creature? What pity 'twas he saw me not first?

Cla. I dare not name him, Sir, lest this small Beauty which you say adorns me, shou'd gain him your displeasure; he's in your presence, Sir, and is your Slave.

Car. Such Innocence this plain Confession shows, name me the man, and I'll resign thee back to him.

Fran. A Pox of his Civility.

Ant. This Mercy makes me bold to claim my right. [Kneels.

Car. Take her, young Man, and with it both your Ransoms.

Guil. Hum—hum—very noble, i'faith, we'll e'en confess our loves too, Isabella.

Isa. S'life, he'll spoil all,—hold—pray let your Betters be serv'd before you.

Guil. How! Is the Honour of my Love despised?—wer't not i'th presence of the Great Turk, for whom I have a reverence because he's a man of quality—by Jove, I'd draw upon you.

Isa. Because you were my Lover once, when I'm Queen I'll pardon you.

[Guzman unveils her, and leads her to Carlos, she making ridiculous actions of Civility.

Car. What aukard, fond, conceited thing art thou? Veil her, and take the taudry Creature hence.

Guil. Hum—your Majesty's humble Servant. [Putting off his Hat ridiculously.

Fran. How! refuse my Daughter too! I see the Lot of a Cuckold will fall to my share.

Guz. This is the Wife, Great Sir, of this old Slave. [Unveils Julia.

Car. Hah! what do I see, by Mahomet, she's fair.

Fran. So, so, she's condemn'd; oh, damn'd Mahometan Cannibal! will nothing but raw flesh serve his turn.

Car. I'll see no more,—here I have fix'd my heart.

Fran. Oh, Monster of a Grand Seignior!

Guz. Have you a mind to be flead, Sir?

Car. Receive my Handkerchief. [Throws it to her.

Fran. His Handkerchief! bless me, what does he mean?

Guz. To do her the honour to lie with her to night.

Fran. Oh, hold, most mighty Turk. [Kneeling.

Guz. Slave, darest thou interrupt 'em,—die, Dog.

Fran. Hold, hold, I'm silent.

Car. I love you, fair one, and design to make you—

Fran. A most notorious Strumpet. A Pox of his Courtesy.

Car. What Eyes you have like Heaven blue and charming, a pretty Mouth, Neck round and white as polisht Alabaster, and a Complexion beauteous as an Angel, a Hair fit to make Bonds to insnare the God of Love,—a sprightly Air,—a Hand like Lillies white, and Lips, no Roses opening in a Morning are half so sweet and soft.

Fran. Oh, damn'd circumcised Turk.

Car. You shall be call'd the beautiful Sultana, And rule in my Seraglio drest with Jewels.

Fran. Sure, I shall burst with Vengeance.

Jul. Sir, let your Virtue regulate your Passions; For I can ne'er love any but my Husband.

Fran. Ah, dissembling Witch!

Jul. And wou'd not break my Marriage Vows to him, For all the honour you can heap upon me.

Fran. Say, and hold; but Sultana and precious Stones are damnable Temptations,—besides, the Rogue's young and handsome,—What a scornful look she casts at me; wou'd they were both handsomely at the Devil together.

Guz. Dog, do you mutter?

Fran. Oh! nothing, nothing, but the Palsy shook my Lips a little.

Guz. Slave, go, and on your knees resign your Wife.

Fran. She's of years of discretion, and may dispose of her self; but I can hold no longer: and is this your Mahometan Conscience, to take other Mens Wives, as if there were not single Harlots enough in the World? [In rage.

Guz. Peace, thou diminutive Christian.

Fran. I say, Peace thou over-grown Turk.

Guz. Thou Spanish Cur.

Fran. Why, you're a Mahometan Bitch, and you go to that.

Guz. Death, I'll dissect the bald-pated Slave.

Fran. I defy thee, thou foul filthy Cabbage-head, for I am mad, and will be valiant.

[Guz. throws his Turbant at him.

Car. What Insolence is this!—Mutes—strangle him.—

[They put a Bow-string about his neck.

Jul. Mercy, dread Sir, I beg my Husband's life.

Car. No more,—this fair one bids you live,—henceforth, Francisco, I pronounce you a Widower, and shall regard you, for the time to come, as the deceased Husband of the Great Sultana, murmur not upon pain of being made an Eunuch—take him away.

Jul. Go, and be satisfied, I'll die before I'll yield.

Fran. Is this my going to Sea?—the Plague of losing Battels light on thee.

When ill success shall make thee idle lie, Mayst thou in bed be impotent as I.

Car. Command our Slaves to give us some diversion; Dismiss his Chains, and use him with respect, because he was the Husband of our beloved Sultana.

Fran. I see your Cuckold might have a life good enough if he cou'd be contented. [They pull off his Chains.

[Carlos and Julia sit under an Umbrella.

The SONG.

_How strangely does my Passion grow, Divided equally twixt two_? Damon _had ne'er subdued my Heart, Had not_ Alexis _took his part: Nor cou'd_ Alexis_ powerful prove, Without my_ Damon's _aid, to gain my Love.

When my Alexis present is, Then I for Damon sigh and mourn; But when Alexis I do miss, Damon gains nothing but my Scorn: And, if it chance they both are by, For both, alas! I languish, sigh, and die.

Cure then, thou mighty winged God, This raging Fever in my Blood. One golden-pointed Dart take back; But which, O_ Cupid, _wilt thou take? if_ Damon's, _all my hopes are crost: Or, that of my_ Alexis, _I am lost_.

Enter Dancers, which dance an Antick.

Car. Come, my dear Julia, let's retire to shades. [Aside to her. Where only thou and I can find an entrance; These dull, these necessary delays of ours Have drawn my Love to an impatient height. —Attend these Captives, at a respectful distance.

[Ex. all but Isa. who stays Guil.

Guil. What wou'd the Great Sultana?

Isa. Ah! do not pierce my Heart with this unkindness.

Guil. Ha, ha, ha,—Pages,—give order, I have Letters writ to Sevil, to my Merchant,—I will be ransomed instantly.

Isa. Ah, cruel Count!

Guil. Meaning me, Lady! ah, fy! no, I am a Scoundrel; I a Count, no, not I, a Dog, a very Chim—hum,—a Son of a Whore, I, not worthy your notice.

Isa. Oh, Heavens! must I lose you then? no, I'll die first.

Guil. Die, die, then; for your Betters must be served before you.

Isa. Oh! I shall rave; false and lovely as you are, did you not swear to marry me, and make me a Viscountess.

Guil. Ay, that was once when I was a Lover; but, now you are a Queen, you're too high i'th' mouth for me.

Isa. Ah! name it not; will you be still hard-hearted?

Guil. As a Flint, by Jove.

Isa. Have you forgot your Love?

Guil. I've a bad memory.

Isa. And will you let me die?

Guil. I know nothing of the matter.

Isa. Oh Heavens! and shall I be no Viscountess?

Guil. Not for me, fair Lady, by Jupiter,—no, no,—Queen's much better,—Death, affront a man of Honour, a Viscount that wou'd have took you to his Bed,—after half the Town had blown upon you,—without examining either Portion or Honesty, and wou'd have took you for better for worse—Death, I'll untile Houses, and demolish Chimneys, but I'll be revenged. [Draws and is going out.

Isa. Ah, hold! your Anger's just, I must confess: yet pardon the frailty of my Sex's vanity; behold my Tears that sue for pity to you.

[She weeps, he stands looking on her.

Guil. My rage dissolves.

Isa. I ask but Death, or Pity. [He weeps.

Guil. I cannot hold;—but if I shou'd forgive, and marry you, you wou'd be gadding after honour still, longing to be a she Great Turk again.

Isa. Break not my heart with such suspicions of me.

Gull. And is it pure and tender Love for my Person, And not for my glorious Titles?

Isa. Name not your Titles, 'tis your self I love, Your amiable, sweet and charming self, And I cou'd almost wish you were not great, To let you see my Love.

Guil. I am confirm'd—

_'Tis no respect of Honour makes her weep_; _Her Loves the same shou'd I cry—Chimney Sweep.

[Ex.



ACT V.

SCENE I. A Garden.

Enter Francisco alone.

Fran. Now am I afraid to walk in this Garden, lest I shou'd spy my own natural Wife lying with the Great Turk in Fresco, upon some of these fine fiowry Banks, and learning how to make Cuckolds in Turkey.

Enter Guzman and Jacinta.

Guz. Nay, dear Jacinta, cast an eye of pity on me.—What, deny the Vizier Bassa?

Jac. When you are honest Guzman again, I'll tell you a piece of my mind.

Guz. But opportunity will not be kind to Guzman, as to the Grand Bassa; therefore, dear Rogue, let's retire into these kind shades, or, if foolish Virtue be so squeamish, and needless Reputation so nice, that Mr. Vicar must say Amen to the bargain, there is an old lousy Frier, belonging to this Villa, that will give us a cast of his Office; for I am a little impatient about this business, Greatness having infus'd a certain itch in my Blood, which I felt not whilst a common Man.

Fran. Um, why, what have we here, pert Mrs. Jacinta and the Bassa? I hope the Jade will be Turkefied with a vengeance, and have Circumcision in abundance; and the Devil shall ransom her for old Francisco.

Jac. Hah, the old Gentleman!

Fran. What, the Frolick is to go round, I see, you Women have a happy time on't.

Guz. Men that have kind Wives may be as happy; you'll have the honour of being made a Cuckold, Heaven be prais'd.

Fran. Ay, Sir, I thank ye,—pray, under the Rose, how does my Wife please his Grace the Great Turk?

Guz. Murmuring again, thou Slave.

Fran. Who, I? O Lord, Sir! not I, why, what hurt is there in being a Cuckold?

Guz. Hurt, Sirrah, you shall be swinged into a belief, that it is an honour for the Great Turk to borrow your Wife.

Fran. But for the Lender to pay Use-money, is somewhat severe;—but, see, he comes,—bless me, how grim he looks!

Enter Carlos, and Mutes attending.

Car. Come hither, Slave,—why, was it that I gave you Life? dismiss'd the Fetters from your aged Limbs?

Fran. For love of my Wife, and't please your Barbarousness.

Car. Gave you free leave to range the Palace round, excepting my Apartment only?

Fran. Still for my Wife's sake, I say, and't like your Hideousness.

Car. And yet this Wife, this most ungrateful Wife of yours, again wou'd put your Chains on, expose your Life to Dangers and new Torments, by a too stubborn Virtue, she does refuse my Courtship, and foolishly is chaste.

Fran. Alas! what pity's that!

Car. I offer'd much, lov'd much, but all in vain; Husband and Honour still was the reply.

Fran. Good lack! that she shou'd have no more Grace before her Eyes.

Car. But, Slave, behold these Mutes; that fatal Instrument of Death behold too, and in 'em read thy doom, if this coy Wife of yours be not made flexible to my Addresses.

Fran. O Heavens! I make her.

Car. No more, thy Fate is fix'd—and, here attend, till he himself deliver his willing Wife into my Arms; Bassa, attend, and see it be perform'd— [To his Mutes, then to Guz. [Ex. Car.

Guz. Go, one of you, and fetch the fair Slave hither.

[Ex. Turk.

Fran. I pimp for my own Wife! I hold the door to my own Flesh and Blood! monstrum horrendum!

Guz. Nay, do't, and do't handsomly too, not with a snivelling Countenance, as if you were compell'd to't; but with the face of Authority, and the awful command of a Husband—or thou dyest.

Enter Turk and Julia.

Fran. My dear Julia, you are a Fool, my Love.

Jul. For what, dear Husband?

Fran. I say, a silly Fool, to refuse the Love of so great a Turk; why, what a Pox makes you so coy? [Angrily.

Jul. How! this from you, Francisco.

Fran. Now does my Heart begin to fail me; and yet I shall ne'er endure strangling neither; why, am not I your Lord and Master, hah?

Jul. Heavens! Husband, what wou'd you have me do?

Fran. Have you do;—why, I wou'd have ye—d'ye see—'twill not out; why, I wou'd have ye lie with the Sultan, Huswife; I wonder how the Devil you have the face to refuse him, so handsom, so young a Lover; come, come, let me hear no more of your Coyness, Mistress, for if I do, I shall be hang'd; [Aside. The Great Turk's a most worthy Gentleman, and therefore I advise you to do as he advises you; and the Devil take ye both. [Aside.

Jul. This from my Husband, old Francisco! he advise me to part with my dear Honour.

Fran. Rather than part with his dear Life, I thank ye. [Aside.

Jul. Have you considered the Virtue of a Wife?

Fran. No, but I have considered the Neck of a Husband. [Aside.

Jul. Which Virtue, before I'll lose, I'll die a thousand Deaths.

Fran. So will not I one; a Pox of her Virtue,—these Women are always virtuous in a wrong place. [Aside. I say you shall be kind to the sweet Sultan.

Jul. And rob my Husband of his right!

Fran. Shaw, Exchange is no Robbery.

Jul. And forsake my Virtue, and make nown Dear a Cuckold.

Fran. Shaw, most of the Heroes of the World were so;—go, prithee, Hony, go, do me the favour to cuckold me a little, if not for Love, for Charity.

Jul. Are you in earnest?

Fran. I am.

Jul. And would it not displease you?

Fran. I say, no; had it been Aquinius his Case, to have sav'd the pinching of his Gullet he wou'd have been a Cuckold. [Aside.

Jul. Fear has made you mad, or you're bewitcht; and I'll leave you to recover your Wits again. [Going out.

Fran. O gracious Wife, leave me not in despair; [Kneels to her and holds her.] I'm not mad, no, nor no more bewitcht than I have been these forty years; 'tis you're bewitcht to refuse so handsom, so young, and so—a Pox on him, she'll ne'er relish me again after him. [Aside.

Jul. Since you've lost your Honour with your wits, I'll try what mine will do.

Enter Carlos, Turks.

Fran. Oh, I am lost, I'm lost—dear Wife,—most mighty Sir, I've brought her finely to't—do not make me lose my credit with his Mahometan Grace,—my Wife has a monstrous Affection for your Honour, but she's something bashful; but when alone your Magnanimousness will find her a swinger.

Car. Fair Creature—

Jul. Do you believe my Husband, Sir? he's mad.

Car. Dog. [Offers to kill him.

Fran. Hold, mighty Emperor; as I hope to be saved, 'tis but a copy of her Countenance—inhuman Wife—lead her to your Apartment, Sir! barbarous honest Woman,—to your Chamber, Sir,—wou'd I had married thee an errant Strumpet; nay, to your Royal Bed, Sir, I'll warrant you she gives you taunt for taunt: try her, Sir, try her. [Puts 'em out.

Jac. Hark you, Sir, are you possest, or is it real reformation in you? what mov'd this kind fit?

Fran. E'en Love to sweet Life; and I shall think my self ever obliged to my dear Wife, for this kind Reprieve;—had she been cruel, I had been strangled, or hung in the Air like our Prophet's Tomb.

Enter First Turk.

Turk. Sir, boast the honour of the News I bring you.

Fran. Oh, my Head! how my Brows twinge.

Turk. The mighty Sultan, to do you honour, has set your Daughter and her Lover free, ransomless;—and this day gives 'em liberty to solemnize the Nuptials in the Court;—but Christian Ceremonies must be private; but you're to be admitted, and I'll conduct you to 'em.

Fran. Some Comfort, I shall be Father to a Viscount, and for the rest—Patience—

All Nations Cuckolds breed, but I deny They had such need of Cuckolding as I.

[Goes out with the Turk.

Enter Antonio, and Clara to Jacinta.

Jac. Madam, the rarest sport—Ha, ha, ha.

Ant. You need not tell us, we have been witness to all. But to our own Affairs, my dearest Clara, Let us not lose this blessed opportunity, Which Art nor Industry can give again if this be idly lost.

Cla. Nay, hang me if it be my fault, Antonio: Charge it to the number of your own Sins; it shall not lie at my door.

Ant. 'Tis generously said, and take notice, my little dear Virago, Guzman has a Priest ready to tie you to your word.

Cla. As fast as you please; hang her that fears the conjuring knot for me: But what will our Fathers say—mine who expects me to be the Governor's Lady; and yours, who designs Isabella for a Daughter-in-Law?

Ant. Mine will be glad of the Change; and, for yours, if he be not pleased, let him keep his Portion to himself—that's the greatest mischief he can do us: and for my Friend, the Governor, he's above their Anger.

Cla. Why do we lose precious time? I long to be at—I Clara take thee Antonio,—the very Ceremony will be tedious, so much I wish thee mine; and each delay gives me a fear something will snatch me from thee.

Ant. No power of Man can do't, thou art so guarded; but now the Priest is employed in clapping up the honourable Marriage between the False Count and Isabella.

Jac. Lord, what a jest 'twill be to see 'em coupled, ha, ha.

Cla. Unmerciful Antonio, to drive the Jest so far; 'tis too unconscionable!

Ant. By Heaven, I'm so proud I cannot think my Revenge sufficient for Affronts, nor does her Birth, her Breeding and her Vanity—deserve a better Fortune; besides,—he has enough to set up for a modern Spark— the Fool has just Wit and good Manners to pass for a Fop of Fashion; and, where he is not known, will gain the Reputation of a fine accomplish'd Gentleman,—yet I'm resolved she shall see him in his Geers, in his original Filthiness, that my Revenge may be home upon the foolish Jilt.

Cla. Cruel Antonio, come, lets go give 'em Joy.

Ant. And finish our Affair with Mr. Vicar.

Enter Isabella, her Train borne by the great Page, Guiliom, with the other great Page, and Francisco bare.

—Joy to my noble Lord, and you, fair Isabella!

Isa. Thank thee, Fellow,—but, surely, I deserved my Titles from thee.

Cla. Your Honour I hope will pardon him.

Isa. How now, Clara! [Nodding to her.

Jac. I give your Honour joy.

Isa. Thank thee, poor Creature.—

Fran. My Lord, this Honour you have done my Daughter is so signal, that whereas I designed her but five thousand Pound, I will this happy day settle on her ten.

Guil. Damn dirty trash, your Beauty is sufficient—hum —Signior Don Antonio, get the Writings ready. [Aside. Money—hang Money.

Fran. How generous these Lords are; nay, my Lord, you must not refuse a Father's Love, if I may presume to call you Son—I shall find enough besides for my Ransom, if the Tyrant be so unmerciful to ask more than my Wife pays him.

Guil. Nay, if you will force it upon me.

Isa. Ay, take it, the trifling sum will serve to buy our Honour Pins.

Ant. Well, Sir, since you will force it on him, my Cashier shall draw the Writings.

Guil. And have 'em signed by a publick Notary. [Aside.

Fran. With all my Soul, Sir, I'll go to give him order, and subscribe. [Ex. Francisco.

Guil. Let him make 'em strong and sure—you shall go halves. [Aside.

Ant. No, you will deserve it dearly, who have the plague of such a Wife with it;—but harkye, Count—these goods of Fortune are not to be afforded you, without Conditions.

Guil. Shaw, Conditions, any Conditions, noble Antonio.

Ant. You must disrobe anon, and do'n your native Habiliments—and in the Equipage give that fair Viscountess to understand the true quality of her Husband.

Guil. Hum—I'm afraid, 'tis a harder task to leap from a Lord to a Rogue, than 'tis from a Rogue to a Lord.

Ant. Not at all, we have examples of both daily.

Guil. Well, Sir, I'll show you my agility—but, Sir, I desire I may consummate, d'ye see,—consummate—a little like a Lord, to make the Marriage sure.

Ant. You have the Freedom to do so—the Writings I'll provide.

Guil. I'll about it then, the Priest waits within for you, and Guzman for you, Jacinta,—haste, for he is to arrive anon Ambassador from Cadiz.

Jac. I know not, this noise of Weddings has set me agog, and I'll e'en in, and try what 'tis.

[Ex. Antonio, Clara, and Jacinta.

Guil. Come, Madam, your Honour and I have something else to do, before I have fully dub'd you a Viscountess.

Isa. Ah, Heav'ns, what's that?

Guil. Why a certain Ceremony, which must be performed between a pair of Sheets,—but we'll let it alone till Night.

Isa. Till Night, no; whate'er it be, I wou'd not be without an Inch of that Ceremony, that may compleat my Honour for the World; no, for Heaven's sake, let's retire, and dub me presently.

Guil. Time enough, time enough.

Isa. You love me not, that can deny me this.

Guil. Love—no, we are married now, and People of our Quality never Love after Marriage; 'tis not great.

Isa. Nay, let's retire, and compleat my Quality, and you will find me a Wife of the Mode, I'll warrant you.

Guil. For once you have prevail'd.

Enter Francisco.

Fran. Whither away?

Isa. Only to consummate a little, pray keep your distance. [She pulls off his hat.

Fran. Consummate!

Isa. Ay, Sir, that is to make me an absolute Viscountess—we cannot stay—farewel. [Guiliom leads her out.

Fran. Hum—this Turkey Air has a notable faculty, where the Women are all plaguy kind.

Enter Carlos and Julia.

Car. By Heav'n, each Moment makes me more your Slave.

Fran. The Business is done.

Jul. My Husband! [Aside.

Car. And all this constant love to old Francisco has but engaged me more.

Fran. Ha, Love to me? [Aside.

Jul. Sir, if this Virtue be but real in you, how happy I shou'd be; but you'll relapse again, and tempt my virtue, which if you do—

Fran. I'll warrant she wou'd kill herself. [Aside.

Jul. I should be sure to yield. [In a soft tone to him.

Car. No, thou hast made an absolute Conquest o'er me—and if that Beauty tempt me every hour, I shall still be the same I was the last.

Fran. Pray Heaven he be John.

Enter First Turk.

1st Turk. Most mighty Emperor, a Messenger from Cadiz has Letters for your Highness.

Car. Conduct him in; in this retreat of ours we use no State.

Enter Guzman, as himself, gives Carlos Letters.

Guz. Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz, greets your Highness.

Carlos reads.

High and Mighty,

For seven Christian Slaves, taken lately by a Galley of yours, we offer you twice the number of Mahometans taken from you by us. —If this suffice not,—propose your Ransoms, and they shall be paid by Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz.

—Know you this Carlos offers so fair for you?

Fran. Most potent Lord, I do, and wonder at the Compliment,—and yet I am not jealous—I have so overacted the complaisant Husband, that I shall never fall into the other Extreme again.

Car. Go, let the Christian Governor understand his Request is granted.

Guz. The Slaves are ready, Sir, and a Galley to carry off the Christians.

Jul. How shall we make this Governor amends?

Fran. I do even weep for joy; alas, I must leave it to thee, Love.

Jul. To me, Sir? do you mock me?

Fran. Mock thee! no; I know thy Virtue, and will no more be jealous, believe me, Chicken, I was an old Fool.

Car. Your Wife is chaste—she overcame my unruly Passion with her Prayers and Tears.

Enter Isabella at one door; Clara, Antonio, Jacinta, at another; Isabella's Train carried up.

Fran. Rare News,—we are all free and ransom'd! All's well, and the Man has his Mare again.

Isa. You still forget your Duty and your Distance.

Fran. A pox of your troublesom Honour; a man can't be overjoy'd in quiet for't.

Enter Baltazer and Sebastian.

Seb. Sure, I am not mistaken, this is the House of my Son Antonio.

Bal. Let it be whose house 'twill, I think the Devil's broke loose in't.

Seb.—Or the Turks; for I have yet met with ne'er a Christian thing in't.

Fran. Hah,—do I dream, or is that my Father-in-law, and Signior Sebastian?

Ant. My Father here?

Car. Baltazer! [Aside.

Bal. Son Francisco, why do you gaze on me so?

Fran. Bless me, Sir, are you taken by the Great Turk too?

Bal. Taken,—Great Turk,—what do mean?

Fran. Mean, Sir! why, how the Devil came you into Turkey?

Bal. Sure, Jealousy has crack'd his brains.

Fran. Crack me no Cracks, good Father mine;—am not I a Slave in Turkey? and is not this the Grand Seignior's Palace?

Car. So,—all will come out, there's no prevention. [Aside.

Seb. Some that are wiser answer us: You, Son,—are you infected too?—was not yesterday to have been your Wedding-day?

Ant. To day has done as well, Sir, I have only chang'd Isabella for Clara.

Seb. How, Francisco, have you juggled with me?

Fran. My Daughter's a Lady, Sir.

Bal. And you, Mistress, you have married Antonio, and left the Governor.

Cla. I thought him the fitter Match, Sir, and hope your Pardon.

Jul. We cannot scape.

Fran. But how came you hither, Gentlemen, how durst you venture?

Seb. Whither, Sir, to my own Son's house; is there such danger in coming a mile or two out of Cadiz?

Fran. Is the Devil in you, or me, or both? Am not I in the Possession of Turks and Infidels?

Bal. No, Sir; safe in Antonio Villa, within a League of Cadiz.

Fran. Why, what a Pox, is not this the Great Turk himself?

Bal. This, Sir,—cry mercy, my Lord,—'tis Don Carlos, Sir, the Governor.

Fran. The Governor! the worst Great Turk of all; so, I am cozened, —most rarely cheated; why, what a horrid Plot's here carried on, to bring in heretical Cuckoldom?

Car. Well, Sir, since you have found it out, I'll own my Passion.

Jul. Well, if I have been kind you forced me to't, nay, begged on your knees, to give my self away.

Fran. Guilty, guilty, I confess,—but 'twas to the Great Turk, Mistress, not Don Carlos.

Jul. And was the Sin the greater?

Fran. No, but the Honour was less.

Bal. Oh horrid! What, intreat his Wife to be a Whore?

Car. Sir, you're mistaken, she was my Wife in sight of Heaven before; and I but seiz'd my own.

Fran. Oh,—Sir, she's at your Service still.

Car. I thank you, Sir, and take her as my own.

Bal. Hold, my Honour's concerned.

Fran. Not at all, Father mine, she's my Wife, my Lumber now, and, I hope, I may dispose of my Goods and Chattels—if he takes her we are upon equal terms, for he makes himself my Cuckold, as he has already made me his;—for, if my memory fail me not, we did once upon a time consummate, as my Daughter has it.

Enter Guiliom in his own dress; crying Chimney-Sweep.

Guil. Chimney-sweep,—by your leave, Gentlemen.

Ant. Whither away, Sirrah?

Guil. What's that to you, Sir?—

Ant. Not to me, Sirrah;—who wou'd you speak with?

Guil. What's that to you, Sir? why, what a Pox, may not a man speak with his own Lady and Wife?

Cla. Heavens! his Wife! to look for his Wife amongst Persons of Quality!

Car. Kick out the Rascal.

Guil. As soon as you please, my Lord; but let me take my Wife along with me. [Takes Isa. by the hand.

Isa. Faugh! what means the Devil?

Guil. Devil; 'twas not long since you found me a human creature within there.

Isa. Villain, Dog; help me to tear his Eyes out.

Guil. What, those Eyes, those lovely Eyes, that wounded you so deeply?

Fran. What's the meaning of all this? why, what, am I cozen'd? and is my Daughter cozen'd?

Guil. Cozen'd! why, I am a Man, Sir.

Fran. The Devil you are, Sir, how shall I know that?

Guil. Your Daughter does, Sir; and that's all one.

Isa. Oh! I'm undone; am I no Viscountess then.

Guil. Hang Titles; 'twas my self you lov'd, my amiable sweet and charming self: In fine, sweet-heart, I am your Husband; no Viscount, but honest Guiliom, the Chimney-sweeper.—I heard your Father design'd to marry you to a Tradesman, and you were for a Don; and to please you both, you see how well I have managed matters.

Fran. I'll not give her a farthing.

Guil. No matter, her Love's worth a million; and, that's so great, that I'm sure she'll be content to carry my Soot basket after me.

Isa. Ah! I die, I die.

Guil. What, and I so kind? [Goes and kisses her, and blacks her face.

Isa. Help! murder, murder!

Guil. Well, Gentlemen, I am something a better fortune than you believe me, by some thousands. [Shows Car. his Writings.

Car. Substantial and good! faith, Sir, I know not where you'll find a better fortune for your Daughter, as cases stand. [To Francisco.

Guil. And, for the Viscount, Sir, gay Clothes, Money and Confidence will set me up for one, in any ground in Christendom.

Car. Faith, Sir, he's i'th' right; take him home to Sevil, your Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make him; the Fellow's honest, witty and handsom.

Fran. Well, I have considered the matter: I was but a Leather-seller my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord? Faith, I'll trust to Fortune, for once—here—take her and rid me of one Plague, as you, I thank you, Sir, have done of another. [To Carlos.

Guil. Prithee be pacified, thou shalt see me within this hour as pretty a fluttering Spark as any's in Town.—My noble Lord, I give you thanks and joy; for, you are happy too.

Car. As Love and Beauty can make me.

Fran. And I, as no damn'd Wife, proud Daughter, or tormenting Chamber-maid can make me.

Ant. And I, as Heaven and Clara can. —You base-born Beauties, whose ill-manner'd Pride, Th'industrious noble Citizens deride. May you all meet with Isabella's doom.

Guil. —And all such Husbands as the Count Guiliome.



EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. Barry, made by a Person of Quality.

_I Come not a Petitioner to sue, This Play the Author has writ down to you; 'Tis a slight Farce, five Days brought forth with ease, So very foolish that it needs must please; For though each day good Judges take offence, And Satir arms in Comedy's defence, You are still true to your _Jack-Pudding_ Sense. No Buffoonry can miss your Approbation, You love it as you do a new_ French _Fashion: Thus in true hate of Sense, and Wit's despite, Bantring and Shamming is your dear delight. Thus among all the Folly's here abounding, None took like the new Ape-trick of Dumfounding. If to make People laugh the business be, You Sparks better Comedians are than we; You every day out-fool ev'n_ Nokes _and_ Lee. _They're forc'd to stop, and their own Farces quit, T'admire the Merry-Andrews of the Pit; But if your Mirth so grate the Critick's ear, Your Love will yet more Harlequin appear. You everlasting Grievance of the Boxes, You wither'd Ruins of stum'd Wine and Poxes; What strange Green-sickness do you hope in Women Should make 'em love old Fools in new Point Linen? The Race of Life you run off-hand too fast, Your fiery Metal is too hot to last; Your Fevers come so thick, your Claps so plenty, Most of you are threescore at five and twenty. Our Town-bred Ladys know you well enough, Your courting Women's like your taking Snuff; Out of mere Idleness you keep a pother, You've no more need of one than of the other. Ladies Wou'd you be quit of their insipid noise, And vain pretending take a Fool's advice; Of the faux Braves I've had some little trial, There's nothing gives 'em credit but Denial: As when a Coward will pretend to Huffing, Offer to fight, away sneaks Bully-Ruffian, So when these Sparks, whose business is addressing, In Love pursuits grow troublesom and pressing; When they affect to keep still in your eye, When they send_ Grisons _every where to spy, And full of Coxcomb dress and ogle high; Seem to receive their Charge, and face about, I'll pawn my life they never stand it out.



THE LUCKY CHANCE; OR, AN ALDERMAN'S BARGAIN.



ARGUMENT.

Harry Bellmour, having killed his man in a duel, flies to Brussels, perforce leaving behind him Leticia, to whom he is affianced. During his absence Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, a doting old alderman and his rival, having procured his pardon from the King to prevent it being granted if applied for a second time, and keeping this stratagem secret, next forges a letter as if from the Hague which describes in detail Bellmour's execution for killing a toper during a tavern brawl. He then plies his suit with such ardour that Leticia, induced by poverty and wretchedness, reluctantly consents to marry him. On the wedding morning Bellmour returns in disguise and intercepts a letter that conveys news of the arrival of Sir Feeble's nephew, Frank, whom his uncle has never seen. The lover straightway resolves to personate the expected newcomer, and he is assisted in his design by his friend Gayman, a town gallant, who having fallen into dire need is compelled to lodge, under the name of Wasteall, with a smith in Alsatia. His estate has been mortgaged to an old banker, Sir Cautious Fulbank, whose wife Julia he loves, and to her he pretends to have gone to Northamptonshire to his uncle's death bed. He is discovered, unknown to himself, in his slummy retreat by Bredwel, Sir Cautious' prentice, who has to convey him a message with reference to the expiration of the mortgage, and who reveals the secret to Lady Fulbank. She promptly abstracts five hundred pounds from her husband's strong box and forwards it to her lover by Bredwel, disguised as a devil, with an amorous message purporting to be from some unknown bidding him attend at a certain trysting place that night without fail. Gayman, now able to redeem his forfeited estates, dresses in his finest clothes and appears at Sir Feeble Fainwou'd's wedding. Bellmour has meanwhile revealed himself to Leticia, who is plunged in despair at the nuptials. Lady Fulbank, who is present, greets Gayman and asks him to give her an assignation in the garden, but he excuses himself in order to keep his prior appointment, and she leaves him in dissembled anger. Bredwel then in his satanic masquerade meets Gayman, and bringing him a roundabout way, introduces him into Sir Cautious' house, where, after having been entertained with a masque of dances and songs as by spirits, he is conducted to Lady Fulbank's chamber by her maid disguised as an ancient crone, and admitted to his mistress' embraces. Meanwhile Sir Feeble Fainwou'd, who just at the moment of entering the bridal chamber has been hurriedly fetched away by Bellmour under the pretext of an urgent message from Sir Cautious concerning some midnight plot and an outbreak in the city, arrives at the house in great terror, and Sir Cautious (not knowing the reason of so late a visit) and he sit opposite each other for a while, gaping and staring in amaze. Bredwel, to pass Gayman out undetected, ushers him through the room white-sheeted like a ghost, and the two old fools are well frightened, but eventually they conclude there has been some mistake or trick. Sir Feeble returns home to find Leticia with her jewels about to flee, but she succeeds in reassuring him. Gayman now visits Lady Fulbank and gives her some account of his adventures with the she-devil, all of which he half jestingly ascribes to magic. Sir Cautious and various guests enter, dice are produced and, luck favouring the gallant, Gayman wins one hundred pounds from the old Banker, and a like sum from several others of the company. As the niggardly Sir Cautious bewails his losses the victor offers to stake three hundred pounds against a night with Julia, the bargain, of course, being kept from the lady. After some rumination Sir Cautious accepts and Gayman wins the throw. That night he causes himself to be conveyed to Sir Cautious' house in a chest and Sir Cautious leads him to Lady Fulbank in bed, she supposing him to be her husband. Meanwhile Sir Feeble being with Leticia is about to enter her bed when from behind the curtains Bellmour appears unmasqued, dressed in a torn and blood-stained shirt and brandishing a dagger. Sir Feeble flies in terror. The next morning Lady Fulbank discovers the trick which has been played upon her and rates both her husband and lover soundly. Bellmour and Leticia arriving throw themselves on her protection. Sir Feeble and Sir Cautious are at length obliged to acquiesce in the existing state of things and to resign their ladies to their two gallants. They are unable to protest even when Sir Feeble finds that his daughter Diana has married Bredwel instead of Sir Cautious' nephew Bearjest for whom she was designed, whilst the choused fop is wedded to Pert, Lady Fulbank's woman, to whom he had been previously contracted.



SOURCE.

The plot of The Lucky Chance; or, An Alderman's Bargain is original save for the details of Lady Fulbank's design upon Gayman, when he is conveyed to her house by masqued devils and conducted to her chamber by Pert dressed as a withered beldame. In this Mrs. Behn exactly copies Shirley's excellent comedy, The Lady of Pleasure, produced at the Private House in Drury Lane, October, 1635, (4to 1637). In the course of Lady Bornwell's intrigue with Kickshaw he is taken blindfold to the house of the procuress, Decoy, who, in the guise of a doting crone, leads him to a chamber where he imagines he is to meet a succubus, whilst the Lady, unknown to him, entertains him herself.



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The Lucky Chance; or, An Alderman's Bargain, produced at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1687, was, with the exception of the disapproval of a certain pudibond clique, received with great favour, and kept the stage for a decade or more. During the summer season of 1718 there was, on 24 July, a revival, 'not acted twenty years,' of this witty comedy at Lincoln's Inn Fields. Gayman was played by Frank Leigh, son of the famous low comedian; Sir Feeble Fainwou'd by Bullock.

On 25 November, 1786, there was produced at Drury Lane a comedy by Mrs. Hannah Cowley (1743-1809), a prolific but mediocre dramatist, entitled, A School for Greybeards; or, The Mourning Bride (4to 1786 and 1787). Genest writes: 'On the first night it struck me that I had seen something like the play before and when the 4th act came I was fully satisfied—that part of the plot which concerns Antonia, Henry, and Gasper [Donna Antonia (The Mourning Bride), Mrs. Crouch; Don Henry, Kemble; Don Gasper (a Greybeard), Parsons; Donna Seraphina, Miss Farren]; and even the outlines of Seraphina's character, are taken from The Lucky Chance—as Mrs. Behn's play, though a very good one is too indecent to be ever represented again. Mrs. Cowley might without any disgrace to herself have borrowed whatever she pleased provided she had made a proper acknowledgement—instead of which she says in her preface "—The idea of the business which concerns Antonia, Henry and Gasper was presented to me in an obsolete Comedy; I say the idea, for when it is known that in the original the scene lay among traders in London—and those traders of the lowest and most detestable manners, it will be conceived at once, that in removing it to Portugal and fixing the characters among the nobility, it was hardly possible to carry with me more than the idea"—the traders whom Mrs. Cowley mentions, are both Knights, the one an Alderman, the other a Banker.' Genest then compares various scenes and expressions from The Lucky Chance with Mrs. Cowley and concludes 'The other scenes though they may differ in the dialogue yet agree in essentials—the scene in the 5th act between Alexis and Gasper bears the strongest resemblance to that between Sir Feeble and Sir Cautious in The Lucky Chance. Mrs. Cowley was ashamed to advance a direct lie, but she was not ashamed to insinuate a falsehood—A Naeuio uel sumpsisti multa, si fateris; uel, si negas surripuisti—Cicero.' The strictures of our stage historian are entirely apposite and correct. Henry, Don Gasper and Antonia of the Georgian comedy are none other but Bellmour, Sir Feeble, and Leticia. With regard to the reception of The School for Greybeards 'the audience took needless offence at a scene in the 4th act, and an unfortunate expression in Young Bannister's part [Don Sebastian. Bannister, jun., also spoke the prologue], revived the opposition in the last scene—no more was heard till King [Don Alexis] advanced to speak the last speech—some alteration was made on the 2nd night, and the play was acted 9 times or more in the course of the season, but never afterwards [It was played at Bath 28 October, 1813. Chatterley acted Don Gasper; Miss Greville (from the Pantheon theatre), Donna Seraphina. It had little success]—it is a good Comedy and was very well acted.'