Sir Cau. Some strange Catastrophe has happened between him and his Wife to Night, and makes him disturb me thus— [Aside. —Come, sit, good Brother, and to the business as you say—

[They sit one at one end of the Table, the other at the other; Dick sets down the Light and goes out—both sit gaping and staring, and expecting when either should speak.

Sir Feeb. As soon as you please, Sir. Lord, how wildly he stares! He's much disturb'd in's mind —Well, Sir, let us be brief—

Sir Cau. As brief as you please, Sir—Well, Brother— [Pausing still.

Sir Feeb. So, Sir.

Sir Cau. How strangely he stares and gapes—some deep concern.

Sir Feeb. Hum—hum—

Sir Cau. I listen to you, advance—

Sir Feeb. Sir?

Sir Cau. A very distracted Countenance—pray Heaven he be not mad, and a young Wife is able to make an old Fellow mad, that's the Truth on't. [Aside.

Sir Feeb. Sure 'tis something of his Lady—he's so loth to bring it out —I am sorry you are thus disturb'd, Sir.

Sir Cau. No disturbance to serve a Friend—

Sir Feeb. I think I am your Friend indeed, Sir Cautious, or I wou'd not have been here upon my Wedding-Night.

Sir Cau. His Wedding-Night—there lies his Grief, poor Heart! Perhaps she has cuckolded him already— [Aside. —Well, come, Brother—many such things are done—

Sir Feeb. Done—hum—come, out with it; Brother—what troubles you to Night?

Sir Cau. Troubles me—why, knows he I am robb'd? [Aside.

Sir Feeb. I may perhaps restore you to the Rest you've lost.

Sir Cau. The Rest; why, have I lost more since? Why, know you then who did it?—Oh, how I'd be reveng'd upon the Rascal!

Sir Feeb. 'Tis—Jealousy, the old Worm that bites— [Aside. Who is it you suspect?

Sir Cau. Alas, I know not whom to suspect, I wou'd I did; but if you cou'd discover him—I wou'd so swinge him—

Sir Feeb. I know him—what, do you take me for a Pimp, Sir? I know him—there's your Watch again, Sir; I'm your Friend, but no Pimp, Sir— [Rises in Rage.

Sir Cau. My Watch; I thank you, Sir—but why Pimp, Sir?

Sir Feeb. Oh, a very thriving Calling, Sir,—and I have a young Wife to practise with. I know your Rogues.

Sir Cau. A young Wife!—'tis so, his Gentlewoman has been at Hot-Cockles without her Husband, and he's Horn-mad upon't. I suspected her being so close in with his Nephew—in a Fit with a Pox—[Aside.] Come, come, Sir Feeble, 'tis many an honest Man's Fortune.

Sir Feeb. I grant it, Sir—but to the business, Sir, I came for.

Sir Cau. With all my Soul—

[They sit gaping, and expecting when either should speak. Enter Bredwel and Gayman at the door. Bredwel sees them, and puts Gayman back again.

Bred. Hah—Sir Feeble, and Sir Cautious there—what shall I do? For this way we must pass, and to carry him back wou'd discover my Lady to him, betray all, and spoil the Jest—retire, Sir, your Life depends upon your being unseen. [Go out.

Sir Feeb. Well, Sir, do you not know that I am married, Sir? and this my Wedding Night?

Sir Cau. Very good, Sir.

Sir Feeb. And that I long to be in bed?

Sir Cau. Very well, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Very good, Sir, and very well, Sir—why then what the Devil do I make here, Sir? [Rises in a rage.

Sir Cau. Patience, Brother—and forward.

Sir Feeb. Forward! lend me your hand, good Brother; let's feel your Pulse; how has this Night gone with you?

Sir Cau. Ha, ha, ha—this is the oddest Quonudrum—sure he's mad—and yet now I think on't, I have not slept to night, nor shall I ever sleep again, till I have found the Villain that robb'd me. [Weeps.

Sir Feeb. So, now he weeps—far gone—this Laughing and Weeping is a very bad sign! [Aside.] Come, let me lead you to your Bed.

Sir Cau. Mad, stark mad—no, now I'm up 'tis no matter—pray ease your troubled Mind—I am your Friend—out with it—what, was it acted? or but designed?

Sir Feeb. How, Sir?

Sir Cau. Be not asham'd, I'm under the same Premunire I doubt, little better than a—but let that pass.

Sir Feeb. Have you any Proof?

Sir Cau. Proof of what, good Sir?

Sir Feeb. Of what! why, that you're a Cuckold; Sir, a Cuckold, if you'll ha't.

Sir Cau. Cuckold! Sir, do ye know what ye say?

Sir Feeb. What I say?

Sir Cau. Ay, what you say, can you make this out?

Sir Feeb. I make it out!

Sir Cau. Ay, Sir—if you say it, and cannot make it out, you're a—

Sir Feeb. What am I, Sir? What am I?

Sir Cau. A Cuckold as well as my self, Sir; and I'll sue you for Scandalum Magnatum; I shall recover swinging Damages with a City-Jury.

Sir Feeb. I know of no such thing, Sir.

Sir Cau. No, Sir?

Sir Feeb. No, Sir.

Sir Cau. Then what wou'd you be at, Sir?

Sir Feeb. I be at, Sir! what wou'd you be at, Sir?

Sir Cau. Ha, ha, ha—why this is the strangest thing—to see an old Fellow, a Magistrate of the City, the first Night he's married, forsake his Bride and Bed, and come arm'd Cap-a-pee, like Gargantua, to disturb another old Fellow, and banter him with a Tale of a Tub; and all to be-cuckold him here—in plain English, what's your Business?

Sir Feeb. Why, what the Devil's your Business, and you go to that?

Sir Cau. My Business, with whom?

Sir Feeb. With me, Sir, with me; what a Pox do you think I do here?

Sir Cau. 'Tis that I wou'd be glad to know, Sir.

Enter Dick.

Sir Feeb. Here, Dick, remember I've brought back your Master's Watch; next time he sends for me o'er Night, I'll come to him in the Morning.

Sir Cau. Ha, ha, ha, I send for you! Go home and sleep, Sir—Ad, and ye keep your Wife waking to so little purpose, you'll go near to be haunted with a Vision of Horns.

[Exit Dick.

Sir Feeb. Roguery, Knavery, to keep me from my Wife—Look ye, this was the Message I receiv'd. [Tells him seemingly.

Enter Bredwel to the Door in a white Sheet like a Ghost, speaking to Gayman who stands within.

Bred. Now, Sir, we are two to two, for this way you must pass or be taken in the Lady's Lodgings—I'll first adventure out to make you pass the safer, and that he may not, if possible, see Sir Cautious, whom I shall fright into a Trance, I am sure. And Sir Feeble, the Devil's in't if he know him. [Aside.

Gay. A brave kind Fellow this.

Enter Bredwel stalking on as a Ghost by them.

Sir Cau. Oh—undone,—undone; help, help;—I'm dead, I'm dead. [Falls down on his Face; Sir Feeble stares,—and stands still.

Bred. As I could wish. [Aside, turns. Come on, thou ghastly thing, and follow me.

Enter Gayman like a Ghost, with a Torch.

Sir Cau. Oh Lord, oh Lord!

Gay. Hah!—old Sir Feeble Fainwou'd—why, where the Devil am I? —'Tis he:—and be it where it will, I'll fright the old Dotard for cozening my Friend of his Mistress. [Stalks on.

Sir Feeb. Oh, guard me,—guard me—all ye Pow'rs! [Trembling.

Gay. Thou call'st in vain, fond Wretch—for I am Bellmour,

Whom first thou robb'st of Fame and Life, And then what dearer was,—his Wife.

[Goes out, shaking his Torch at him.

Sir Cau. Oh Lord—oh Lord!

_Enter L_. Fulbank _in an undress, and_ Pert _undrest.

L. Ful. Heavens, what noise is this?—So he's got safe out I see—hah, what thing art thou? [Sees Sir Feeble arm'd.

Sir Feeb. Stay, Madam, stay—'tis I, a poor trembling Mortal.

L. Ful. Sir Feeble Fainwou'd!—rise,—are you both mad?

Sir Cau. No, no,—Madam, we have seen the Devil.

Sir Feeb. Ay, and he was as tall as the Monument.

Sir Cau. With Eyes like a Beacon—and a Mouth,—Heaven bless us, like London Bridge at a full Tide.

Sir Feeb. Ay, and roar'd as loud.

L. Ful. Idle Fancies, what makes you from your Bed? and you, Sir, from your Bride?

Enter Dick with Sack.

Sir Feeb. Oh! that's the business of another day, a mistake only, Madam.

L. Ful. Away, I'm asham'd to see wise Men so weak; the Fantoms of the Night, or your own Shadows, the Whimseys of the Brain for want of Rest, or perhaps Bredwel, your Man—who being wiser than his Master, play'd you this Trick to fright you both to Bed.

Sir Feeb. Hum—adod, and that may be, for the young Knave when he let me in to Night, was drest up for some Waggery—

Sir Cau. Ha, ha, ha, 'twas even so, sure enough, Brother—

Sir Feeb. Ads bobs, but they frighted me at first basely—but I'll home to Pupsey, there may be Roguery, as well as here—Madam, I ask your Pardon, I see we're all mistaken.

L. Ful. Ay, Sir Feeble, go home to your Wife.

[Ex. severally.



SCENE VI. The Street.

Enter Bellmour at the door, knocks, and enter to him from the House, Phillis.

Phil. Oh, are you come, Sir? I'll call my Lady down.

Bel. Oh, haste, the Minutes fly—leave all behind. And bring Leticia only to my Arms. [A noise of People. —Hah, what noise is that? 'Tis coming this way, I tremble with my fears—hah, Death and the Devil, 'Tis he—

Enter Sir Feeble and his Men arm'd, goes to the door, knocks.

Ay, 'tis he, and I'm undone—what shall I do to kill him now? besides, the Sin wou'd put me past all Hopes of pardoning.

Sir Feeb. A damn'd Rogue to deceive me thus.—

Bel. Hah—see, by Heaven Leticia, Oh, we are ruin'd!

Sir Feeb. Hum—what's here, two Women?— [Stands a little off.

Enter Leticia and Phillis softly, undrest, with a Box.

Let. Where are you, my best Wishes? Lord of my Vows—and Charmer of my Soul? Where are you?

Bel. Oh, Heavens!— [Draws his Sword half-way.

Sir Feeb. Hum, who's here? My Gentlewoman—she's monstrous kind of the sudden. But whom is't meant to? [Aside.

Let. Give me your hand, my Love, my Life, my All—Alas! where are you?

Sir Feeb. Hum—no, no, this is not to me—I am jilted, cozen'd, cuckolded, and so forth.— [Groping, she takes hold of Sir Feeb.

Let. Oh, are you here? indeed you frighted me with your Silence—here, take these Jewels, and let us haste away.

Sir Feeb. Hum—are you thereabouts, Mistress? was I sent away with a Sham-Plot for this!—She cannot mean it to me. [Aside.

Let. Will you not speak?—will you not answer me?—do you repent already?—before Enjoyment are you cold and false?

Sir Feeb. Hum, before Enjoyment—that must be me. Before Injoyment— Ay, ay, 'tis I—I see a little Prolonging a Woman's Joy, sets an Edge upon her Appetite. [Merrily.

Let. What means my Dear? shall we not haste away?

Sir Feeb. Haste away! there 'tis again—No—'tis not me she means: what, at your Tricks and Intrigues already?—Yes, yes, I am destin'd a Cuckold—

Let. Say, am I not your Wife? can you deny me?

Sir Feeb. Wife! adod, 'tis I she means—'tis I she means—[Merrily.

Let. Oh Bellmour, Bellmour.

[Sir Feeb. starts back from her hands.

Sir Feeb. Hum—what's that—Bellmour!

Let. Hah! Sir Feeble!—he would not, Sir, have us'd me thus unkindly.

Sir Feeb. Oh—I'm glad 'tis no worse—Bellmour, quoth a! I thought the Ghost was come again.

Phil. Why did you not speak, Sir, all this while?—my Lady weeps with your Unkindness.

Sir Feeb. I did but hold my peace, to hear how prettily she prattled Love: But, fags, you are naught to think of a young Fellow—ads bobs, you are now.

Let. I only say—he wou'd not have been so unkind to me.

Sir Feeb. But what makes ye out at this Hour, and with these Jewels?

Phil. Alas, Sir, we thought the City was in Arms, and packt up our things to secure 'em, if there had been a necessity for Flight. For had they come to plundering once, they wou'd have begun with the rich Aldermen's Wives, you know, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Ads bobs, and so they would—but there was no Arms, nor Mutiny—where's Francis?

Bel. Here, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Here, Sir—why, what a story you made of a Meeting in the Hall, and—Arms, and—a—the Devil of any thing was stirring, but a couple of old Fools, that sat gaping and waiting for one another's business—

Bel. Such a Message was brought me, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Brought! thou'rt an Ass, Francis—but no more—come, come, let's to bed—

Let. To Bed, Sir! what, by Day-light?—for that's hasting on—I wou'd not for the World—the Night wou'd hide my Blushes—but the Day—wou'd let me see my self in your Embraces.

Sir Feeb. Embraces, in a Fiddlestick; why, are we not married?

Let. 'Tis true, Sir, and Time will make me more familiar with you, but yet my Virgin Modesty forbids it. I'll to Diana's Chamber, the Night will come again.

Sir Feeb. For once you shall prevail; and this damn'd Jant has pretty well mortified me:—a Pox of your Mutiny, Francis.—Come, I'll conduct thee to Diana, and lock thee in, that I may have thee safe, Rogue.—

We'll give young Wenches leave to whine and blush, And fly those Blessings which—ads bobs, they wish.

[Exeunt.



ACT IV.

SCENE I. Sir Feeble's House.

Enter Lady Fulbank, Gayman fine, gently pulling her back by the hand; and Ralph meets 'em.

L. Ful. How now, Ralph—Let your Lady know I am come to wait on her.

[Exit Ralph.

Gay. Oh, why this needless Visit— Your Husband's safe, at least till Evening safe. Why will you not go back, And give me one soft hour, though to torment me?

L. Ful. You are at leisure now, I thank you, Sir. Last Night when I with all Love's Rhetorick pleaded, And Heaven knows what last Night might have produced, You were engag'd! False Man, I do believe it, And I am satisfied you love me not. [Walks away in scorn.

Gay. Not love you! Why do I waste my Youth in vain pursuit, Neglecting Interest, and despising Power? Unheeding and despising other Beauties. Why at your feet are all my Fortunes laid, And why does all my Fate depend on you?

L. Ful. I'll not consider why you play the Fool, Present me Rings and Bracelets; why pursue me; Why watch whole Nights before my senseless Door, And take such Pains to shew your self a Coxcomb.

Gay. Oh! why all this? By all the Powers above, by this dear Hand, And by this Ring, which on this Hand I place, On which I've sworn Fidelity to Love; I never had a Wish or soft Desire To any other Woman, Since Julia sway'd the Empire of my Soul.

L. Ful. Hah, my own Ring I gave him last night. [Aside. —Your Jewel, Sir, is rich: Why do you part with things of so much value, So easily, and so frequently?

Gay. To strengthen the weak Arguments of Love.

L. Ful. And leave your self undone?

Gay. Impossible, if I am blest with Julia.

L. Ful. Love's a thin Diet, nor will keep out Cold. You cannot satisfy your Dunning Taylor, To cry—I am in Love! Though possible you may your Seamstress.

Gay. Does ought about me speak such Poverty?

L. Ful. I am sorry that it does not, since to maintain This Gallantry, 'tis said you use base means, Below a Gentleman.

Gay. Who dares but to imagine it's a Rascal, A Slave, below a beating—what means my Julia?

L. Ful. No more dissembling, I know your Land is gone —I know each Circumstance of all your Wants; Therefore—as e'er you hope that I should love you ever— Tell me—where 'twas you got this Jewel, Sir.

Gay. Hah—I hope 'tis no stol'n Goods; [Aside. Why on the sudden all this nice examining?

L. Ful. You trifle with me, and I'll plead no more.

Gay. Stay—why—I bought it, Madam—

L. Ful. Where had you Money, Sir? You see I am No Stranger to your Poverty.

Gay. This is strange—perhaps it is a secret.

L. Ful. So is my Love, which shall be kept from you. [Offers to go.

Gay. Stay, Julia—your Will shall be obey'd, [Sighing. Though I had rather die than be obedient, Because I know you'll hate me when 'tis told.

L. Ful. By all my Vows, let it be what it will, It ne'er shall alter me from loving you.

Gay. I have—of late—been tempted— With Presents, Jewels, and large Sums of Gold.

L. Ful. Tempted! by whom?

Gay. The Devil, for ought I know.

L. Ful. Defend me, Heaven! the Devil? I hope you have not made a Contract with him.

Gay. No, though in the Shape of Woman it appear'd.

L. Ful. Where met you with it?

Gay. By Magick Art I was conducted—I know not how, To an inchanted Palace in the Clouds, Where I was so attended— Young dancing, singing Fiends innumerable.

L. Ful. Imagination all!

Gay. But for the amorous Devil, the old Proserpine.—

L. Ful. Ay, she—what said she?—

Gay. Not a word: Heaven be prais'd, she was a silent Devil—but she was laid in a Pavilion, all form'd of gilded Clouds, which hung by Geometry, whither I was conveyed, after much Ceremony, and laid in Bed with her; where with much ado, and trembling with my Fears—I forc'd my Arms about her.

L. Ful. And sure that undeceiv'd him. [Aside.

Gay. But such a Carcase 'twas—deliver me—so rivell'd, lean and rough—a Canvas Bag of wooden Ladles were a better Bed-fellow.

L. Ful. Now though I know that nothing is more distant than I from such a Monster—yet this angers me. Death! cou'd you love me and submit to this?

Gay. 'Twas that first drew me in— The tempting Hope of Means to conquer you, Wou'd put me upon any dangerous Enterprize: Were I the Lord of all the Universe, I am so lost in Love, For one dear Night to clasp you in my Arms, I'd lavish all that World—then die with Joy.

L. Ful. 'Slife, after all to seem deform'd, old, ugly— [Walking in a fret.

Gay. I knew you would be angry when you heard it. [He pursues her in a submissive posture.

Enter Sir Cautious, Bearjest, Noisey and Bredwel.

Sir Cau. How, what's here?—my Lady with the Spark that courted her last Night?—hum—with her again so soon?—Well, this Impudence and Importunity undoes more City-Wives than all their unmerciful Finery.

Gay. But, Madam—

L. Ful. Oh, here's my Husband—you'd best tell him your Story—what makes him here so soon?— [Angry.

Sir Cau. Me his Story! I hope he will not tell me he'as a mind to cuckold me.

Gay. A Devil on him, what shall I say to him?

L. Ful. What, so excellent at Intrigues, and so dull at an Excuse? [Aside.

Gay. Yes, Madam, I shall tell him—

Enter Bellmour.

L. Ful.—Is my Lady at leisure for a Visit, Sir?

Bel. Always to receive your Ladyship.

[She goes out.

Sir Cau. With me, Sir, wou'd you speak?

Gay. With you, Sir, if your name be Fulbank.

Sir Cau. Plain Fulbank! methinks you might have had a Sirreverence, under your Girdle, Sir; I am honoured with another Title, Sir— [Goes talking to the rest.

Gay. With many, Sir, that very well become you— [Pulls him a little aside. I've something to deliver to your Ear.

Sir Cau. So, I'll be hang'd if he do not tell me, I'm a Cuckold now: I see it in his Eyes. My Ear, Sir! I'd have you to know I scorn any man's secrets, Sir;—for ought I know you may whisper Treason to me, Sir. Pox on him, how handsom he is, I hate the sight of the young Stallion. [Aside.

Gay. I wou'd not be so uncivil, Sir, before all this Company.

Sir Cau. Uncivil! Ay, ay, 'tis so, he cannot be content to cuckold, but he must tell me so too.

Gay. But since you will have it, Sir—you are—a Rascal—a most notorious Villain, Sir, d'ye hear—

Sir Cau. Yes, yes, I do hear—and am glad 'tis no worse. [Laughing.

Gay. Griping as Hell—and as insatiable—worse than a Brokering Jew, not all the Twelve Tribes harbour such a damn'd Extortioner.

Sir Cau. Pray, under favour, Sir, who are you? [Pulling off his Hat.

Gay. One whom thou hast undone—

Sir Cau. Hum—I'm glad of that however. [Aside smiling.

Gay. Racking me up to a starving Want and Misery, Then took advantages to ruin me.

Sir Cau. So, and he'd revenge it on my Wife— [Aside smiling.

Gay. Do not you know one Wasteall, Sir?

Enter Ralph with Wine, sets it on a Table.

Sir Cau. Wasteall—ha, ha, ha,—if you are any Friend to that poor Fellow—you may return and tell him, Sir—d'ye hear—that the Mortgage of two hundred pound a Year is this day out, and I'll not bait him an hour, Sir—ha, ha, ha,—what, do you think to hector civil Magistrates?

Gay. Very well, Sir, and is this your Conscience?

Sir Cau. Conscience! what do you tell me of Conscience? Why, what a noise is here—as if the undoing a young Heir were such a Wonder; ods so I've undone a hundred without, half this ado.

Gay. I do believe thee—and am come to tell you—I'll be none of that Number—for this Minute I'll go and redeem it—and free myself from the Hell of your Indentures.

Sir Cau. How, redeem it! sure the Devil must help him then.—Stay, Sir—stay—Lord, Sir, what need you put your self to that trouble? your Land is in safe hands, Sir; come, come, sit down—and let us take a Glass of Wine together, Sir—

Bel. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks to him.

Gay. Your Servant, Sir. Wou'd I cou'd come to speak to Bellmour, which I dare not do in publick, lest I betray him. I long to be resolv'd where 'twas Sir Feeble was last night—if it were he—by which I might find out my invisible Mistress.

Noi. Noble Mr. Wasteall— [Salutes him, so does Bearjest.

Bel. Will you please to sit, Sir?

Gay. I have a little business, Sir—but anon I'll wait on you—your Servant, Gentlemen—I'll to Crap the Scrivener's. [Goes out.

Sir Cau. Do you know this Wasteall, Sir?— [To Noisey.

Noi. Know him, Sir! ay, too well—

Bea. The World's well amended with him, Captain, since I lost my Money to him and you at the George in White-Fryers.

Noi. Ay, poor Fellow—he's sometimes up, and sometimes down, as the Dice favour him—

Bea. Faith, and that's pity; but how came he so fine o'th' sudden? 'Twas but last week he borrowed eighteen pence of me on his Waste-Belt to pay his Dinner in an Ordinary.

Bel. Were you so cruel, Sir, to take it?

Noi. We are not all one Man's Children; faith, Sir, we are here to Day, and gone to Morrow—

Sir Cau. I say 'twas done like a wise Man, Sir; but under favour, Gentlemen, this Wasteall is a Rascal—

Noi. A very Rascal, Sir, and a most dangerous Fellow—he cullies in your Prentices and Cashiers to play—which ruins so many o'th' young Fry i'th' City—

Sir Cau. Hum—does he so—d'ye hear that, Edward?

Noi. Then he keeps a private Press, and prints your Amsterdam and Leyden Libels.

Sir Cau. Ay, and makes 'em too, I'll warrant him; a dangerous Fellow—

Noi. Sometimes he begs for a lame Soldier with a wooden Leg.

Bea. Sometimes as a blind Man, sells Switches in New-Market Road.

Noi. At other times he runs the Country like a Gipsey—tells Fortunes and robs Hedges, when he's out of Linen.

Sir Cau. Tells Fortunes too!—nay, I thought he dealt with the Devil —Well, Gentlemen, you are all wide o' this Matter—for to tell you the Truth—he deals with the Devil, Gentlemen —otherwise he could never have redeem'd his Land. [Aside.

Bel. How, Sir, the Devil!

Sir Cau. I say the Devil; Heaven bless every wise Man from the Devil.

Bea. The Devil, sha! there's no such Animal in Nature; I rather think he pads.

Noi. Oh, Sir, he has not Courage for that—but he's an admirable Fellow at your Lock.

Sir Cau. Lock! My Study-Lock was pickt—I begin to suspect him—

Bea. I saw him once open a Lock with the Bone of a Breast of Mutton, and break an Iron Bar asunder with the Eye of a Needle.

Sir Cau. Prodigious!—well, I say the Devil still.

Enter Sir Feeble.

Sir Feeb. Who's this talks of the Devil?—a Pox of the Devil, I say, this last night's Devil has so haunted me—

Sir Cau. Why, have you seen it since, Brother?

Sir Feeb. In Imagination, Sir.

Bel. How, Sir, a Devil?

Sir Feeb. Ay, or a Ghost.

Bel. Where, good Sir?

Bea. Ay, where? I'd travel a hundred Mile to see a Ghost—

Bel. Sure, Sir, 'twas Fancy.

Sir Feeb. If 'twere a Fancy, 'twas a strong one; and Ghosts and Fancy are all one if they can deceive. I tell you—if ever I thought in my Life—I thought I saw a Ghost—Ay, and a damnable impudent Ghost too; he said he was a—a Fellow here—they call Bellmour.

Bel. How, Sir!

Bea. Well, I wou'd give the world to see the Devil, provided he were a civil affable Devil, such an one as Wasteall's Acquaintance is—

Sir Cau. He can show him too soon, it may be. I'm sure as civil as he is, he helps him to steal my Gold, I doubt—and to be sure—Gentlemen, you say he's a Gamester—I desire when he comes anon, that you wou'd propose to sport a Dye, or so—and we'll fall to play for a Teaster, or the like—and if he sets any money, I shall go near to know my own Gold, by some remarkable Pieces amongst it; and if he have it, I'll hang him, and then all his six hundred a Year will be my own, which I have in Mortgage.

Bea. Let the Captain and I alone to top upon him—mean time, Sir, I have brought my Musick, to entertain my Mistress with a Song.

Sir Feeb. Take your own methods, Sir—they are at leisure—while we go drink their Healths within. Adod, I long for night, we are not half in kelter, this damn'd Ghost will not out of my Head yet.

[Exeunt all but Bellmour.

Bel. Hah—a Ghost! what can he mean? A Ghost, and Bellmour's! —Sure my good Angel, or my Genius, In pity of my Love, and of Leticia— But see Leticia comes, but still attended—

Enter Leticia, Lady Fulbank, Diana.

—Remember—oh, remember to be true? [Aside to her, passing by goes out.

L. Ful. I was sick to know with what Christian Patience you bore the Martyrdom of this Night.

Let. As those condemn'd bear the last Hour of Life. A short Reprieve I had—and by a kind Mistake, Diana only was my Bedfellow— [Weeps.

Dia. And I wish for your Repose you ne'er had seen my Father. [Weeps.

Let. And so do I, I fear he has undone me—

Dia. And me, in breaking of his word with Bredwel—

L. Ful.—So—as Trincolo says, wou'd you were both hang'd for me, for putting me in mind of my Husband. For I have e'en no better luck than either of you—Let our two Fates warn your approaching one: I love young Bredwel and must plead for him.

Dia. I know his Virtue justifies my Choice: But Pride and Modesty forbids I shou'd unlov'd pursue him.

Let. Wrong not my Brother so, who dies for you—

Dia. Cou'd he so easily see me given away, Without a Sigh at parting? For all the day a Calm was in his Eyes, And unconcern'd he look'd and talk'd to me; In dancing never prest my willing Hand, Nor with a scornful Glance reproach'd my Falshood.

Let. Believe me, that Dissembling was his Master-piece.

Dia. Why should he fear, did not my Father promise him?

Let. Ay, that was in his wooing time to me: But now 'tis all forgotten— [Musick at the door.

After which enter Bearjest and Bredwel.

L. Ful. How now, Cousin! Is this high piece of Gallantry from you?

Bea. Ay, Madam, I have not travel'd for nothing—

L. Ful. I find my Cousin is resolv'd to conquer, he assails with all his Artillery of Charms; we'll leave him to his success, Madam.—

[Ex. Leticia and L. Fulbank.

Bea. Oh Lord, Madam, you oblige me—look, Ned, you had a mind to have a full view of my Mistress, Sir, and—here she is. [He stands gazing. Go, salute her—look how he stands now; what a sneaking thing is a Fellow who has never travel'd and seen the World!—Madam—this is a very honest Friend of mine, for all he looks so simply.

Dia. Come, he speaks for you, Sir.

Bea. He, Madam! though he be but a Banker's Prentice, Madam, he's as pretty a Fellow of his Inches as any i'th' City—he has made love in Dancing-Schools, and to Ladies of Quality in the middle Gallery, and shall joke ye—and repartee with any Fore-man within the Walls—prithee to her—and commend me, I'll give thee a new Point Crevat.

Dia. He looks as if he cou'd not speak to me.

Bea. Not speak to you! yes, Gad, Madam, and do any thing to you too.

Dia. Are you his Advocate, Sir? [In scorn.

Bea. For want of a better— [Stands behind him, pushing him on.

Bred. An Advocate for Love I am, And bring you such a Message from a Heart—

Bea. Meaning mine, dear Madam.

Bred. That when you hear it, you will pity it.

Bea. Or the Devil's in her—

Dia. Sir, I have many Reasons to believe, It is my Fortune you pursue, not Person.

Bea. There is something in that, I must confess. [Behind him. But say what you will, Ned.

Bred. May all the Mischiefs of despairing Love Fall on me if it be.

Bea. That's well enough—

Bred. No, were you born an humble Village-Maid, That fed a Flock upon the neighbouring Plain; With all that shining Vertue in your Soul, By Heaven, I wou'd adore you—love you—wed you— Though the gay World were lost by such a Nuptial. [Bear. looks on him. —This—I wou'd do, were I my Friend the Squire [Recollecting.

Bea. Ay, if you were me—you might do what you pleas'd; but I'm of another mind.

Dia. Shou'd I consent, my Father is a Man whom Interest sways, not Honour; and whatsoever Promises he 'as made you, he means to break 'em all, and I am destin'd to another.

Bea. How, another—his Name, his Name, Madam—here's Ned and I fear ne'er a single Man i'th' Nation, What is he—what is he?—

Dia. A Fop, a Fool, a beaten Ass—a Blockhead.

Bea. What a damn'd Shame's this, that Women shou'd be sacrificed to Fools, and Fops must run away with Heiresses—whilst we Men of Wit and Parts dress and dance, and cock and travel for nothing but to be tame Keepers.

Dia. But I, by Heaven, will never be that Victim: But where my Soul is vow'd, 'tis fix'd for ever.

Bred. Are you resolv'd, are you confirm'd in this? Oh my Diana, speak it o'er again. [Runs to her, and embraces her. Bless me, and make me happier than a Monarch.

Bea. Hold, hold, dear Ned—that's my part, I take it.

Bred. Your Pardon, Sir, I had forgot my self. —But time is short—what's to be done in this?

Bea. Done! I'll enter the House with Fire and Sword, d'ye see, not that I care this—but I'll not be fob'd off—what, do they take me for a Fool—an Ass?

Bred. Madam, dare you run the risk of your Father's Displeasure, and run away with the Man you love?

Dia. With all my Soul—

Bea. That's hearty—and we'll do it—Ned and I here—and I love an Amour with an Adventure in't like Amadis de Gaul—Harkye, Ned, get a Coach and six ready to night when 'tis dark, at the back Gate—

Bred. And I'll get a Parson ready in my Lodging, to which I have a Key through the Garden, by which we may pass unseen.

Bea. Good—Mun, here's Company—

Enter Gayman with his Hat and Money in't, Sir Cautious in a rage, Sir Feeble, Lady Fulbank, Leticia, Captain Noisey, Bellmour.

Sir Cau. A hundred Pound lost already! Oh Coxcomb, old Coxcomb, and a wise Coxcomb—to turn Prodigal at my Years, why, I was bewitcht!

Sir Feeb. Shaw, 'twas a Frolick, Sir, I have lost a hundred Pound as well as you. My Lady has lost, and your Lady has lost, and the rest— what, old Cows will kick sometimes, what's a hundred Pound?

Sir Cau. A hundred Pound! why, 'tis a sum, Sir—a sum—why, what the Devil did I do with a Box and Dice!

L. Ful. Why, you made a shift to lose, Sir? And where's the harm of that? We have lost, and he has won; anon it may be your Fortune.

Sir Cau. Ay, but he could never do it fairly, that's certain. Three hundred Pound! why, how came you to win so unmercifully, Sir?

Gay. Oh, the Devil will not lose a Gamester of me, you see, Sir.

Sir Cau. The Devil!—mark that, Gentlemen—

Bea. The Rogue has damn'd luck sure, he has got a Fly—

Sir Cau. And can you have the Conscience to carry away all our Money, Sir?

Gay. Most assuredly, unless you have the courage to retrieve it. I'll set it at a Throw, or any way: what say you, Gentlemen?

Sir Feeb. Ods bobs, you young Fellows are too hard for us every way, and I'm engag'd at an old Game with a new Gamester here, who will require all an old Man's stock.

L. Ful. Come, Cousin, will you venture a Guinea? Come, Mr. Bredwel.

Gay. Well, if no body dare venture on me, I'll send away my Cash—

[They all go to play at the Table, but Sir Cau. Sir Feeb. and Gay.

Sir Cau. Hum—must it all go?—a rare sum, if a Man were but sure the Devil wou'd but stand Neuter now— [Aside. —Sir, I wish I had any thing but ready Money to stake: three hundred Pound—a fine Sum!

Gay. You have Moveables, Sir, Goods—Commodities—

Sir Cau. That's all one, Sir; that's Money's worth, Sir: but if I had any thing that were worth nothing—

Gay. You wou'd venture it,—I thank you, Sir,—I wou'd your Lady were worth nothing—

Sir Cau. Why, so, Sir?

Gay. Then I wou'd set all this against that Nothing.

Sir Cau. What, set it against my Wife?

Gay. Wife, Sir! ay, your Wife—

Sir Cau. Hum, my Wife against three hundred Pounds! What, all my Wife, Sir?

Gay. All your Wife! Why, Sir, some part of her wou'd serve my turn.

Sir Cau. Hum—my Wife—why, if I shou'd lose, he cou'd not have the Impudence to take her. [Aside.

Gay. Well, I find you are not for the Bargain, and so I put up—

Sir Cau. Hold, Sir—why so hasty—my Wife? no—put up your Money, Sir—what, lose my Wife for three hundred Pounds!—

Gay. Lose her, Sir!—why, she shall be never the worse for my wearing, Sir—the old covetous Rogue is considering on't, I think—What say you to a Night? I'll set it to a Night—there's none need know it, Sir.

Sir Cau. Hum—a Night!—three hundred Pounds for a Night! why, what a lavish Whore-master's this! We take Money to marry our Wives, but very seldom part with 'em, and by the Bargain get Money—For a Night, say you?—Gad, if I shou'd take the Rogue at his word, 'twou'd be a pure Jest. [Aside.

Sir Feeb. You are not mad, Brother.

Sir Cau. No, but I'm wise—and that's as good; let me consider.—

Sir Feeb. What, whether you shall be a Cuckold or not?

Sir Cau. Or lose three hundred Pounds—consider that. A Cuckold!—why, 'tis a word—an empty sound—'tis Breath—'tis Air—'tis nothing:—but three hundred Pounds—Lord, what will not three hundred Pounds do? You may chance to be a Cuckold for nothing, Sir—

Sir Feeb. It may be so—but she shall do't discretly then.

Sir Cau. Under favour, you're an Ass, Brother; this is the discreetest way of doing it, I take it.

Sir Feeb. But wou'd a wise man expose his Wife?

Sir Cau. Why, Cato was a wiser Man than I, and he lent his Wife to a young Fellow they call'd Hortensius, as Story says; and can a wise Man have a better Precedent than Cato?

Sir Feeb. I say, Cato was an Ass, Sir, for obliging any young Rogue of 'em all.

Sir Cau. But I am of Cato's mind. Well, a single Night you say.

Gay. A single Night—to have—to hold—possess—and so forth, at discretion.

Sir Cau. A Night—I shall have her safe and sound i'th' Morning.

Sir Feeb. Safe, no doubt on't—but how sound.—

Gay. And for Non-performance, you shall pay me three hundred Pounds, I'll forfeit as much if I tell—

Sir Cau. Tell?—why, make your three hundred pounds six hundred, and let it be put into the Gazet, if you will, Man.—But it's a Bargain?

Gay. Done—Sir Feeble shall be witness—and there stands my Hat.

[Puts down his Hat of Money, and each of em take a Box and Dice, and kneel on the Stage, the rest come about 'em.

Sir Cau. He that comes first to One and thirty wins—

[They throw and count.

L. Ful. What are you playing for?

Sir Feeb. Nothing, nothing—but a Trial of Skill between an old Man and a Young—and your Ladyship is to be Judge.

L. Ful. I shall be partial, Sir.

Sir Cau. Six and five's Eleven— [Throws, and pulls the Hat towards him.

Gay. Cater Tray—Pox of the Dice—

Sir Cau. Two fives—one and twenty— [Sets up, pulls the Hat nearer.

Gay. Now, Luck—Doublets of sixes—nineteen.

Sir Cau. Five and four—thirty— [Draws the Hat to him.

Sir Feeb. Now if he wins it, I'll swear he has a Fly indeed—'tis impossible without Doublets of sixes—

Gay, Now Fortune smile—and for the future frown. [Throws.

Sir Cau.—Hum—two sixes— [Rises and looks dolefully round.

L. Ful. How now? what's the matter you look so like an Ass, what have you lost?

Sir Cau. A Bauble—a Bauble—'tis not for what I've lost—but because I have not won—

Sir Feeb. You look very simple, Sir—what think you of Cato now?

Sir Cau. A wise Man may have his failings—

L. Ful. What has my Husband lost?—

Sir Cau. Only a small parcel of Ware that lay dead upon my hands, Sweet-heart.

Gay. But I shall improve 'em, Madam, I'll warrant you.

L. Ful. Well, since 'tis no worse, bring in your fine Dancer, Cousin, you say you brought to entertain your Mistress with.

[Bearjest goes out.

Gay. Sir, you'll take care to see me paid to Night?

Sir Cau. Well, Sir—but my Lady, you must know, Sir, has the common frailties of her Sex, and will refuse what she even longs for, if persuaded to't by me.

Gay. 'Tis not in my Bargain to sollicit her, Sir, you are to procure her—or three hundred pounds, Sir; chuse you whether.

Sir Cau. Procure her! with all my soul, Sir; alas, you mistake my honest meaning, I scorn to be so unjust as not to see you a-bed together; and then agree as well as you can, I have done my part—In order to this, Sir—get but your self conveyed in a Chest to my house, with a Direction upon't for me; and for the rest—

Gay. I understand you.

Sir Feeb. Ralph, get supper ready.

Enter Bea. with Dancers; all go out but Sir Cautious.

Sir Cau. Well, I must break my Mind, if possible, to my Lady—but if she shou'd be refractory now—and make me pay Three hundred Pounds—why, sure she won't have so little Grace—Three hundred Pounds sav'd, is three hundred pounds got—by our account—Cou'd All—

Who of this City-Privilege are free, Hope to be paid for Cuckoldom like me; Th'unthriving Merchant, whom gray Hair adorns, Before all Ventures wou'd ensure his Horns; For thus, while he but lets spare Rooms to hire, His Wife's cracked Credit keeps his own entire.

[Exit.



ACT V.

SCENE I. Sir Cautious his House.

Enter Bellmour alone, sad.

Bel. The Night is come, oh my Leticia! The longing Bridegroom hastens to his Bed; Whilst she with all the languishment of Love, And sad Despair, casts her fair Eyes on me, Which silently implore, I would deliver her. But how! ay, there's the Question—hah— [Pausing. I'll get my self hid in her Bed-chamber— And something I will do—may serve us yet— If all my Arts should fail—I'll have recourse [Draws a dagger. To this—and bear Leticia off by force. —But see she comes—

Enter Lady Fulbank, Sir Cautious, Sir Feeble, Leticia, Bearjest, Noisey, Gayman. Exit Bellmour.

Sir Feeb. Lights there, Ralph. And my Lady's Coach there—

[Bearjest goes to Gayman.

Bea. Well, Sir, remember you have promised to grant me my diabolical Request, in shewing me the Devil—

Gay. I will not fail you, Sir.

L. Ful. Madam, your Servant; I hope you'll see no more Ghosts, Sir Feeble.

Sir Feeb. No more of that, I beseech you, Madam: Prithee, Sir Cautious, take away your Wife—Madam, your Servant— [All go out after the Light. —Come, Lette, Lette; hasten, Rogue, hasten to thy Chamber; away, here be the young Wenches coming— [Puts her out, he goes out.

Enter Diana, puts on her Hood and Scarf.

Dia. So—they are gone to Bed; and now for Bredwel —the Coach waits, and I'll take this opportunity.

Father, farewell—if you dislike my course, Blame the old rigid Customs of your Force.

[Goes out.



SCENE II. A Bed-chamber.

Enter Sir Feeble, Leticia, and Phillis.

Let. Ah, Phillis! I am fainting with my Fears, Hast thou no comfort for me?

[He undresses to his Gown.

Sir Feeb. Why, what art doing there—fiddle fadling—adod, you young Wenches are so loth to come to—but when your hand's in, you have no mercy upon us poor Husbands.

Let. Why do you talk so, Sir?

Sir Feeb. Was it anger'd at the Fool's Prattle? tum a-me, tum a-me, I'll undress it, effags, I will—Roguy.

Let. You are so wanton, Sir, you make me blush—I will not go to bed, unless you'll promise me—

Sir Feeb. No bargaining, my little Hussey—what, you'll tie my hands behind me, will you? [She goes to the Table.

Let.—What shall I do?—assist me, gentle Maid, Thy Eyes methinks put on a little hope.

Phil. Take Courage, Madam—you guess right—be confident.

Sir Feeb. No whispering, Gentlewoman—and putting Tricks into her head; that shall not cheat me of another Night—Look on that silly little round Chitty-face—look on those smiling roguish loving Eyes there—look—look how they laugh, twire, and tempt—he, Rogue—I'll buss 'em there, and here, and every where—ods bods—away, this is fooling and spoiling of a Man's Stomach, with a bit here, and a bit there—to Bed—to Bed—

[As she is at the Toilet, he looks over her shoulder, and sees her Face in the Glass.

Let. Go you first, Sir, I will but stay to say my Prayers, which are that Heaven wou'd deliver me. [Aside.

Sir Feeb. Say thy Prayers!—What, art thou mad! Prayers upon thy Wedding-night! a short Thanksgiving or so—but Prayers quoth a—'Sbobs, you'll have time enough for that, I doubt—

Le. I am asham'd to undress before you, Sir; go to Bed—

Sir Feeb. What, was it asham'd to shew its little white Foots, and its little round Bubbies—well, I'll go, I'll go—I cannot think on't, no I cannot—

[Going towards the Bed, Bellmour comes forth from between the Curtains, his Coat off, his Shirt bloody, a Dagger in his hand, and his Disguise off.

Bel. Stand—

Sir Feeb. Ah—

Let. and Phil. [squeak]—Oh, Heavens! —why, is it Bellmour? [Aside to Phil.

Bel. Go not to Bed, I guard this sacred Place, And the Adulterer dies that enters here.

Sir Feeb. Oh—why do I shake?—sure I'm a Man, what art thou?

Bel. I am the wrong'd, the lost and murder'd Bellmour.

Sir Feeb. O Lord! it is the same I saw last night—Oh!—hold thy dread Vengeance—pity me, and hear me—Oh! a Parson—a Parson—what shall I do—Oh! where shall I hide my self?

Bel. I'th' utmost Borders of the Earth I'll find thee— Seas shall not hide thee, nor vast Mountains guard thee: Even in the depth of Hell I'll find thee out, And lash thy filthy and adulterous Soul.

Sir Feeb. Oh! I am dead, I'm dead; will no Repentence save me? 'twas that young Eye that tempted me to sin; Oh!—

Bel. See, fair Seducer, what thou'st made me do; Look on this bleeding Wound, it reach'd my Heart, To pluck my dear tormenting Image thence, When News arriv'd that thou hadst broke thy Vow.

Sir Feeb. Oh Lord! oh! I'm glad he's dead though.

Let. Oh, hide that fatal Wound, my tender Heart faints with a Sight so horrid! [Seems to Weep.

Sir Feeb. So, she'll clear her self, and leave me in the Devil's Clutches.

Bel. You've both offended Heaven, and must repent or die.

Sir Feeb. Ah,—I do confess I was an old Fool,—bewitcht with Beauty, besotted with Love, and do repent most heartily.

Bel. No, you had rather yet go on in Sin: Thou wou'dst live on, and be a baffled Cuckold.

Sir Feeb. Oh, not for the World, Sir! I am convinc'd and mortifi'd.

Bel. Maintain her fine, undo thy Peace to please her, and still be Cuckol'd on,—believe her,—trust her, and be Cuckol'd still.

Sir Feeb. I see my Folly—and my Age's Dotage—and find the Devil was in me—yet spare my Age—ah! spare me to repent.

Bel. If thou repent'st, renounce her, fly her sight;— Shun her bewitching Charms, as thou wou'dst Hell, Those dark eternal Mansions of the dead— Whither I must descend.

Sir Feeb. Oh—wou'd he were gone!—

Bel. Fly—be gone—depart, vanish for ever from her to some more safe and innocent Apartment.

Sir Feeb. Oh, that's very hard!—

[He goes back trembling, Bellmour follows in with his Dagger up; both go out.

Let. Blest be this kind Release, and yet methinks it grieves me to consider how the poor old Man is frighted.

[Bellmour re-enters, puts on his Coat.

Bel.—He's gone, and lock'd himself into his Chamber— And now, my dear Leticia, let us fly—

Despair till now did my wild Heart invade, But pitying Love has the rough Storm allay'd.

[Exeunt.



SCENE III. Sir Cautious his Garden.

Enter two Porters and Rag, bearing Gayman in a Chest; set it down, he comes forth with a Dark-lanthorn.

Gay. Set down the Chest behind yon hedge of Roses—and then put on those Shapes I have appointed you—and be sure you well-favour'dly bang both Bearjest and Noisey, since they have a mind to see the Devil.

Rag. Oh, Sir, leave 'em to us for that; and if we do not play the Devil with 'em, we deserve they shou'd beat us. But, Sir, we are in Sir Cautious his Garden, will he not sue us for a Trespass?

Gay. I'll bear you out; be ready at my Call.

[Exeunt.

—Let me see—I have got no ready stuff to banter with—but no matter, any Gibberish will serve the Fools—'tis now about the hour of Ten—but Twelve is my appointed lucky Minute, when all the Blessings that my Soul could wish, shall be resign'd to me.

Enter Bredwel.

—Hah! who's there? Bredwel?

Bred. Oh, are you come, Sir—and can you be so kind to a poor Youth, to favour his Designs, and bless his Days?

Gay. Yes, I am ready here with all my Devils, both to secure you your Mistress, and to cudgel your Captain and Squire, for abusing me behind my Back so basely.

Bred. 'Twas most unmanly, Sir, and they deserve it—I wonder that they come not.

Gay. How durst you trust her with him?

Bred. Because 'tis dangerous to steal a City-Heiress, and let the Theft be his—so the dear Maid be mine—Hark—sure they come—

Enter Bearjest, runs against Bredwel.

—Who's there? Mr. Bearjest?

Bea. Who's that? Ned? Well, I have brought my Mistress, hast thou got a Parson ready, and a License?

Bred. Ay, ay, but where's the Lady?

Bea. In the Coach, with the Captain at the Gate. I came before, to see if the Coast be clear.

Bred. Ay, Sir; but what shall we do? here's Mr. Gayman come on purpose to shew you the Devil, as you desir'd.

Bea. Sho! a Pox of the Devil, Man—I can't attend to speak with him now.

Gay. How, Sir! D'ye think my Devil of so little Quality, to suffer an Affront unrevenged?

Bea. Sir, I cry his Devilship's Pardon: I did not know his Quality. I protest, Sir, I love and honour him, but I am now just going to be married, Sir; and when that Ceremony's past, I'm ready to go to the Devil as soon as you please.

Gay. I have told him your Desire of seeing him, and shou'd you baffle him?

Bea. Who, I, Sir! Pray, let his Worship know, I shall be proud of the Honour of his Acquaintance; but, Sir, my Mistress and the Parson wait in Ned's Chamber.

Gay. If all the World wait, Sir, the Prince of Hell will stay for no Man.

Bred. Oh, Sir, rather than the Prince of the Infernals shall be affronted, I'll conduct the Lady up, and entertain her till you come, Sir.

Bea. Nay, I have a great mind to kiss his—Paw, Sir; but I cou'd wish you'd shew him me by day-light, Sir.

Gay. The Prince of Darkness does abhor the Light. But, Sir, I will for once allow your Friend the Captain to keep you company.

Enter Noisey and Diana.

Bea. I'm much oblig'd to you, Sir; oh, Captain— [Talks to him.

Bred. Haste, Dear; the Parson waits, To finish what the Powers design'd above.

Dia. Sure nothing is so bold as Maids in Love! [They go out.

Noi. Psho! he conjure—he can flie as soon.

Gay. Gentlemen, you must be sure to confine your selves to this Circle, and have a care you neither swear, nor pray.

Bea. Pray, Sir! I dare say neither of us were ever that way gifted.

A horrid Noise.

Gay.

Cease your Horror, cease your Haste. And calmly as I saw you last, Appear! Appear! By thy Pearls and Diamond Rocks, By thy heavy Money-Box, By thy shining Petticoat, That hid thy cloven Feet from Note; By the Veil that hid thy Face, Which else had frighten'd humane Race: [Soft Musick ceases. Appear, that I thy Love may see, Appear, kind Fiends, appear to me.

A Pox of these Rascals, why come they not?

Four enter from the four corners of the Stage, to Musick that plays; they dance, and in the Dance, dance round 'em, and kick, pinch, and beat 'em.

Bea. Oh, enough, enough! Good Sir, lay 'em, and I'll pay the Musick—

Gay. I wonder at it—these Spirits are in their Nature kind, and peaceable—but you have basely injur'd some body—confess, and they will be satisfied—

Bea. Oh, good Sir, take your Cerberuses off—I do confess, the Captain here, and I have violated your Fame.

Noi. Abus'd you,—and traduc'd you,—and thus we beg your pardon—

Gay. Abus'd me! 'Tis more than I know, Gentlemen.

Bea. But it seems your Friend the Devil does.

Gay. By this time Bredwel's married. —Great Pantamogan, hold, for I am satisfied, [Ex. Devils. And thus undo my Charm— [Takes away the Circle, they run out. So, the Fools are going, and now to Julia's Arms.

[Going.



SCENE IV. Lady Fulbank's Anti-chamber.

She discover'd undrest at her Glass; Sir Cautious undrest.

L. Ful. But why to Night? indeed you're wondrous kind methinks.

Sir Cau. Why, I don't know—a Wedding is a sort of an Alarm to Love; it calls up every Man's courage.

L. Ful. Ay, but will it come when 'tis call'd?

Sir Cau. I doubt you'll find it to my Grief— [Aside. —But I think 'tis all one to thee, thou car'st not for my Complement; no, thou'dst rather have a young Fellow.

L. Ful. I am not us'd to flatter much; if forty Years were taken from your Age, 'twou'd render you something more agreeable to my Bed, I must confess.

Sir Cau. Ay, ay, no doubt on't.

L. Ful. Yet you may take my word without an Oath, Were you as old as Time, and I were young and gay As April Flowers, which all are fond to gather; My Beauties all should wither in the Shade, E'er I'd be worn in a dishonest Bosom.

Sir Cau. Ay, but you're wondrous free methinks, sometimes, which gives shreud suspicions.

L. Ful. What, because I cannot simper, look demure, and justify my Honour, when none questions it? —Cry fie, and out upon the naughty Women, Because they please themselves—and so wou'd I.

Sir Cau. How, wou'd, what cuckold me?

L. Ful. Yes, if it pleas'd me better than Vertue, Sir. But I'll not change my Freedom and my Humour, To purchase the dull Fame of being honest.

Sir Cau. Ay, but the World, the World—

L. Ful. I value not the Censures of the Croud.

Sir Cau. But I am old.

L. Ful. That's your fault, Sir, not mine.

Sir Cau. But being so, if I shou'd be good-natur'd, and give thee leave to love discreetly—

L. Ful. I'd do't without your leave, Sir.

Sir Cau. Do't—what, cuckold me?

L. Ful. No, love discreetly, Sir, love as I ought, love honestly.

Sir Cau. What, in love with any body, but your own Husband?

L. Ful. Yes.

Sir Cau. Yes, quoth a—is that your loving as you ought?

L. Ful. We cannot help our Inclinations, Sir, No more than Time, or Light from coming on— But I can keep my Virtue, Sir, intire.

Sir Cau. What, I'll warrant, this is your first Love, Gayman?

L. Ful. I'll not deny that Truth, though even to you.

Sir Cau. Why, in consideration of my Age, and your Youth, I'd bear a Conscience—provided you do things wisely.

L. Ful. Do what thing, Sir?

Sir Cau. You know what I mean—

L. Ful. Hah—I hope you wou'd not be a Cuckold, Sir.

Sir Cau. Why—truly in a civil way—or so.

L. Ful. There is but one way, Sir, to make me hate you; And that wou'd be tame suffering.

Sir Cau. Nay, and she be thereabouts, there's no discovering.

L. Ful. But leave this fond discourse, and, if you must, Let us to Bed.

Sir Cau. Ay, ay, I did but try your Virtue, mun—dost think I was in earnest?

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, here's a Chest directed to your Worship.

Sir Cau. Hum, 'tis Wasteall—now does my heart fail me—A Chest say you—to me—so late;—I'll warrant it comes from Sir Nicholas Smuggle—some prohibited Goods that he has stoln the Custom of, and cheated his Majesty—Well, he's an honest Man, bring it in—

[Exit Servant.

L. Ful. What, into my Apartment, Sir, a nasty Chest!

Sir Cau. By all means—for if the Searchers come, they'll never be so uncivil to ransack thy Lodgings; and we are bound in Christian Charity to do for one another—Some rich Commodities, I am sure—and some fine Knick-knack will fall to thy share, I'll warrant thee —Pox on him for a young Rogue, how punctual he is! [Aside.

Enter with the Chest.

—Go, my Dear, go to Bed—I'll send Sir Nicholas a Receit for the Chest, and be with thee presently—

[Ex. severally.

[Gayman peeps out of the Chest, and looks round him wondring.

Gay. Hah, where am I? By Heaven, my last Night's Vision—'Tis that inchanted Room, and yonder's the Alcove! Sure 'twas indeed some Witch, who knowing of my Infidelity—has by Inchantment brought me hither— 'tis so—I am betray'd—[Pauses. Hah! or was it Julia, that last night gave me that lone Opportunity?—but hark, I hear some coming— [Shuts himself in.

Enter Sir Cautious.

Sir Cau. [Lifting up the Chest-lid.] So, you are come, I see— [Goes, and locks the door.

Gay. Hah—he here! nay then, I was deceiv'd, and it was Julia that last night gave me the dear Assignation. [Aside.

[Sir Cautious peeps into the Bed-chamber.

L. Ful. [Within.] Come, Sir Cautious, I shall fall asleep, and then you'll waken me.

Sir Cau. Ay, my Dear, I'm coming—she's in Bed—I'll go put out the Candle, and then—

Gay. Ay, I'll warrant you for my part—

Sir Cau. Ay, but you may over-act your part, and spoil all—But, Sir, I hope you'll use a Christian Conscience in this business.

Gay. Oh, doubt not, Sir, but I shall do you Reason.

Sir Cau. Ay, Sir, but—

Gay. Good Sir, no more Cautions; you, unlike a fair Gamester, will rook me out of half my Night—I am impatient—

Sir Cau. Good Lord, are you so hasty? if I please, you shan't go at all.

Gay. With all my soul, Sir; pay me three hundred Pound, Sir—

Sir Cau. Lord, Sir, you mistake my candid meaning still. I am content to be a Cuckold, Sir—but I wou'd have things done decently, d'ye mind me?

Gay. As decently as a Cuckold can be made, Sir.—But no more disputes, I pray, Sir.

Sir Cau. I'm gone—I'm gone—but harkye, Sir, you'll rise before day? [Going out, returns.

Gay. Yet again—

Sir Cau. I vanish, Sir—but harkye—you'll not speak a word, but let her think 'tis I?

Gay. Be gone, I say, Sir— [He runs out. I am convinc'd last night I was with Julia. Oh Sot, insensible and dull!

Enter softly Sir Cautious.

Sir Cau. So, the Candle's out—give me your hand.

[Leads him softly in.



SCENE V. Changes to a Bed-chamber.

Lady Fulbank suppos'd in Bed. Enter Sir Cautious and Gayman by dark.

Sir Cau. Where are you, my Dear? [Leads him to the bed.

L. Ful. Where shou'd I be—in Bed; what, are you by dark?

Sir Cau. Ay, the Candle went out by Chance.

[Gayman signs to him to be gone; he makes grimaces as loath to go, and Exit.



SCENE VI. Draws over, and represents another Room in the same House.

Enter Parson, Diana, and Pert drest in Diana's Clothes.

Dia. I'll swear, Mrs. Pert, you look very prettily in my Clothes; and since you, Sir, have convinc'd me that this innocent Deceit is not unlawful, I am glad to be the Instrument of advancing Mrs. Pert to a Husband, she already has so just a Claim to.

Par. Since she has so firm a Contract, I pronounce it a lawful Marriage—but hark, they are coming sure—

Dia. Pull your Hoods down, and keep your Face from the Light. [Diana runs out.

Enter Bearjest and Noisey disordered.

Bea. Madam, I beg your Pardon—I met with a most devilish Adventure; —your Pardon too, Mr. Doctor, for making you wait.—But the business is this, Sir—I have a great mind to lie with this young Gentlewoman to Night, but she swears if I do, the Parson of the Parish shall know it.

Par. If I do, Sir, I shall keep Counsel.

Bea. And that's civil, Sir—Come, lead the way, With such a Guide, the Devil's in't if we can go astray.

[Exeunt.



SCENE VII. Changes to the Anti-chamber.

Enter Sir Cautious.

Sir Cau. Now cannot I sleep, but am as restless as a Merchant in stormy Weather, that has ventur'd all his Wealth in one Bottom.—Woman is a leaky Vessel.—if she should like the young Rogue now, and they should come to a right understanding—why, then I am a—Wittal—that's all, and shall be put in Print at Snow-hill, with my Effigies o'th' top, like the sign of Cuckolds Haven.—Hum—they're damnable silent—pray Heaven he have not murdered her, and robbed her—hum—hark, what's that?—a noise!—he has broke his Covenant with me, and shall forfeit the Money—How loud they are? Ay, ay, the Plot's discovered, what shall I do?—Why, the Devil is not in her sure, to be refractory now, and peevish; if she be, I must pay my Money yet—and that would be a damn'd thing.—sure they're coming out—I'll retire and hearken how 'tis with them. [Retires.

Enter Lady Fulbank undrest, Gayman, half undrest upon his Knees, following her, holding her Gown.

L. Ful. Oh! You unkind—what have you made me do? Unhand me, false Deceiver—let me loose—

Sir Cau. Made her do?—so, so—'tis done—I'm glad of that— [Aside peeping.

Gay. Can you be angry, Julia? Because I only seiz'd my Right of Love.

L. Ful. And must my Honour be the Price of it? Could nothing but my Fame reward your Passion? —What, make me a base Prostitute, a foul Adulteress? Oh—be gone, be gone—dear Robber of my Quiet. [Weeping.

Sir Cau. Oh, fearful!—

Gay. Oh! Calm your rage, and hear me; if you are so, You are an innocent Adulteress. It was the feeble Husband you enjoy'd In cold imagination, and no more; Shily you turn'd away—faintly resign'd.

Sir Cau. Hum, did she so?—

Gay. Till my Excess of Love betray'd the Cheat.

Sir Cau. Ay, ay, that was my Fear.

L. Ful. Away, be gone—I'll never see you more—

Gay. You may as well forbid the Sun to shine. Not see you more!—Heavens! I before ador'd you, But now I rave! And with my impatient Love, A thousand mad and wild Desires are burning! I have discover'd now new Worlds of Charms, And can no longer tamely love and suffer.

Sir Cau. So—I have brought an old House upon my Head, Intail'd Cuckoldom upon my self.

L. Ful. I'll hear no more—Sir Cautious,—where's my Husband? Why have you left my Honour thus unguarded?

Sir Cau. Ay, ay, she's well enough pleas'd, I fear, for all.

Gay. Base as he is, 'twas he expos'd this Treasure; Like silly Indians barter'd thee for Trifles.

Sir Cau. O treacherous Villain!—

L. Ful. Hah—my Husband do this?

Gay. He, by Love, he was the kind Procurer, Contriv'd the means, and brought me to thy Bed.

L. Ful. My Husband! My wise Husband! What fondness in my Conduct had he seen, To take so shameful and so base Revenge?

Gay. None—'twas filthy Avarice seduc'd him to't.

L. Ful. If he cou'd be so barbarous to expose me, Cou'd you who lov'd me—be so cruel too?

Gay. What—to possess thee when the Bliss was offer'd? Possess thee too without a Crime to thee? Charge not my Soul with so remiss a flame, So dull a sense of Virtue to refuse it.

L. Ful. I am convinc'd the fault was all my Husband's— And here I vow—by all things just and sacred, To separate for ever from his Bed. [Kneels.

Sir Cau. Oh, I am not able to indure it— Hold—oh, hold, my Dear— [He kneels as she rises.

L. Ful. Stand off—I do abhor thee—

Sir Cau. With all my Soul—but do not make rash Vows. They break my very Heart—regard my Reputation.

L. Ful. Which you have had such care of, Sir, already— Rise, 'tis in vain you kneel.

Sir Cau. No—I'll never rise again—Alas! Madam, I was merely drawn in; I only thought to sport a Dye or so: I had only an innocent design to have discover'd whether this Gentleman had stoln my Gold, that so I might have hang'd him—

Gay. A very innocent Design indeed!

Sir Cau. Ay, Sir, that's all, as I'm an honest man.—

L. Ful. I've sworn, nor are the Stars more fix'd than I.

Enter Servant.

Serv. How! my Lady and his Worship up?—Madam, a Gentleman and a Lady below in a Coach knockt me up, and say they must speak with your Ladyship.

L. Ful. This is strange!—bring them up— [Exit Servant. Who can it be, at this odd time of neither Night nor Day?

Enter Leticia, Bellmour, and Phillis.

Let. Madam, your Virtue, Charity and Friendship to me, has made me trespass on you for my Life's security, and beg you will protect me, and my Husband— [Points at Bellmour.

Sir Cau. So, here's another sad Catastrophe!

L. Ful. Hah—does Bellmour live? is't possible? Believe me, Sir, you ever had my Wishes; And shall not fail of my Protection now.

Bel. I humbly thank your Ladyship.

Gay. I'm glad thou hast her, Harry; but doubt thou durst not own her; nay dar'st not own thy self.

Bel. Yes, Friend, I have my Pardon— But hark, I think we are pursu'd already— But now I fear no force.

[A noise of some body coming in.

L. Ful. However, step into my Bed-chamber.

[Exeunt Leticia, Gayman and Phillis.

Enter Sir Feeble in an Antick manner.

Sir Feeb. Hell shall not hold thee—nor vast Mountains cover thee, but I will find thee out—and lash thy filthy and Adulterous Carcase. [Coming up in a menacing manner to Sir Cau.

Sir Cau. How—lash my filthy Carcase?—I defy thee, Satan—

Sir Feeb. 'Twas thus he said.

Sir Cau. Let who's will say it, he lies in's Throat.

Sir Feeb. How, the Ghostly—hush—have a care—for 'twas the Ghost of Bellmour—Oh! hide that bleeding Wound, it chills my Soul!— [Runs to the Lady Fulbank.

L. Ful. What bleeding Wound?—Heavens, are you frantick, Sir?

Sir Feeb. No—but for want of rest, I shall e'er Morning. [Weeps. —She's gone—she's gone—she's gone— [He weeps.

Sir Cau. Ay, ay, she's gone, she's gone indeed. [Sir Cau. weeps.

Sir Feeb. But let her go, so I may never see that dreadful Vision —harkye, Sir—a word in your Ear—have a care of marrying a young Wife.

Sir Cau. Ay, but I have married one already. [Weeping.

Sir Feeb. Hast thou? Divorce her—flie her, quick—depart—be gone, she'll cuckold thee—and still she'll cuckold thee.

Sir Cau. Ay, Brother, but whose fault was that?—Why, are not you married?

Sir Feeb. Mum—no words on't, unless you'll have the Ghost about your Ears; part with your Wife, I say, or else the Devil will part ye.

L. Ful. Pray go to Bed, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Yes, for I shall sleep now, I shall lie alone; [Weeps. Ah, Fool, old dull besotted Fool—to think she'd love me—'twas by base means I gain'd her—cozen'd an honest Gentleman of Fame and Life—

L. Ful. You did so, Sir, but 'tis not past Redress—you may make that honest Gentleman amends.

Sir Feeb. Oh, wou'd I could, so I gave half my Estate—

L. Ful. That Penitence atones with him and Heaven.—Come forth, Leticia, and your injur'd Ghost.

Enter Leticia, Bellmour, and Phillis.

Sir Feeb. Hah, Ghost—another Sight would make me mad indeed.

Bel. Behold me, Sir, I have no Terror now.

Sir Feeb. Hah—who's that, Francis!—my Nephew Francis?

Bel. Bellmour, or Francis, chuse you which you like, and I am either.

Sir Feeb. Hah, Bellmour! and no Ghost?

Bel. Bellmour—and not your Nephew, Sir.

Sir Feeb. But art alive? Ods bobs, I'm glad on't, Sirrah;—But are you real, Bellmour?

Bel. As sure as I'm no Ghost.

Gay. We all can witness for him, Sir.

Sir Feeb. Where be the Minstrels, we'll have a Dance—adod, we will —Ah—art thou there, thou cozening little Chits-face?—a Vengeance on thee—thou madest mean old doting loving Coxcomb—but I forgive thee—and give thee all thy Jewels, and you your Pardon, Sir, so you'll give me mine; for I find you young Knaves will be too hard for us.

Bel. You are so generous, Sir, that 'tis almost with grief I receive the Blessing of Leticia.

Sir Feeb. No, no, thou deservest her; she would have made an old fond Blockhead of me, and one way or other you wou'd have had her—ods bobs, you wou'd—

Enter Bearjest, Diana, Pert, Bredwel, and Noisey.

Bea. Justice, Sir, Justice—I have been cheated—abused—assassinated and ravisht!

Sir Cau. How, my Nephew ravisht!—

Pert. No, Sir, I am his Wife.

Sir Cau. Hum—my Heir marry a Chamber-maid!

Bea. Sir, you must know I stole away Mrs. Dy, and brought her to Ned's Chamber here—to marry her.

Sir Feeb. My Daughter Dy stoln—

Bea. But I being to go to the Devil a little, Sir, whip—what does he, but marries her himself, Sir; and fob'd me off here with my Lady's cast Petticoat—

Noi. Sir, she's a Gentlewoman, and my Sister, Sir.

Pert. Madam, 'twas a pious Fraud, if it were one; for I was contracted to him before—see, here it is— [Gives it 'em.

All. A plain Case, a plain Case.

Sir Feeb. Harkye, Sir, have you had the Impudence to marry my Daughter, Sir? [To Bredwel, who with Diana kneels.

Bred. Yes, Sir, and humbly ask your Pardon, and your Blessing—

Sir Feeb. You will ha't, whether I will or not—rise, you are still too hard for us: Come, Sir, forgive your Nephew—

Sir Cau. Well, Sir, I will—but all this while you little think the Tribulation I am in, my Lady has forsworn my Bed.

Sir Feeb. Indeed, Sir, the wiser she.

Sir Cau. For only performing my Promise to this Gentleman.

Sir Feeb. Ay, you showed her the Difference, Sir; you're a wise man. Come, dry your Eyes—and rest your self contented, we are a couple of old Coxcombs; d'ye Hear, Sir, Coxcombs.

Sir Cau. I grant it, Sir; and if I die, Sir, I bequeath my Lady to you—with my whole Estate—my Nephew has too much already for a Fool. [To Gayman.

Gay. I thank you, Sir—do you consent, my Julia?

L. Ful. No, Sir—you do not like me—a canvas Bag of wooden Ladles were a better Bed-fellow.

Gay. Cruel Tormenter! Oh, I could kill myself with shame and anger!

L. Ful. Come hither, Bredwel—witness for my Honour—that I had no design upon his Person, but that of trying his Constancy.

Bred. Believe me, Sir, 'tis true—I feigned a danger near—just as you got to bed—and I was the kind Devil, Sir, that brought the Gold to you.

Bea. And you were one of the Devils that beat me, and the Captain here, Sir?

Gay. No truly, Sir, those were some I hired—to beat you for abusing me to day.

Noi. To make you 'mends, Sir, I bring you the certain News of the death of Sir Thomas Gayman, your Uncle, who has left you Two thousand pounds a year—

Gay. I thank you, Sir—I heard the news before.

Sir Cau. How's this; Mr. Gayman, my Lady's first Lover? I find, Sir Feeble, we were a couple of old Fools indeed, to think at our Age to cozen two lusty young Fellows of their Mistresses; 'tis no wonder that both the Men and the Women have been too hard for us; we are not fit Matches for either, that's the truth on't.

The Warrior needs must to his Rival yield, Who comes with blunted Weapons to the Field.



EPILOGUE.

Written by a Person of Quality, Spoken by Mr. Betterton.

_Long have we turn'd the point of our just Rage On the half Wits, and Criticks of the Age. Oft has the soft, insipid Sonneteer In_ Nice _and_ Flutter, _seen his Fop-face here. Well was the ignorant lampooning Pack Of shatterhead Rhymers whip'd on_ Craffey's _back; But such a trouble Weed is Poetaster, The lower 'tis cut down, it grows the faster. Though Satir then had such a plenteous crop, An After Math of Coxcombs is come up; Who not content false Poetry to renew, By sottish Censures wou'd condemn the true. Let writing like a Gentleman—fine appear, But must you needs judge too_ en Cavalier? _These whiffling Criticks, 'tis our Auth'ress fears, And humbly begs a Trial by her Peers: Or let a Pole of Fools her fate pronounce, There's no great harm in a good quiet Dunce. But shield her, Heaven! from the left-handed blow Of airy Blockheads who pretend to know. On downright Dulness let her rather split, Than be Fop-mangled under colour of Wit.

Hear me, ye Scribling Beaus, Why will you in sheer Rhyme, without one stroke Of Poetry, Ladies just Disdain provoke, And address Songs to whom you never spoke? In doleful Hymns for dying Felons fit, Why do you tax their Eyes, and blame their Wit? Unjustly of the Innocent you complain, 'Tis Bulkers give, and Tubs must cure your pain. Why in Lampoons will you your selves revile? 'Tis true, none else will think it worth their while: But thus you're hid! oh, 'tis a politick Fetch; So some have hang'd themselves to ease_ Jack Ketch. _Justly your Friends and Mistresses you blame, For being so they well deserve the shame, 'Tis the worst scandal to have borne that name. [See the late Satir on Poetry] At Poetry of late, and such whose Skill Excels your own, you dart a feeble Quill; Well may you rail at what you ape so ill. With virtuous Women, and all Men of Worth, You're in a state of mortal War by Birth. Nature in all her Atom-Fights ne'er knew Two things so opposite as Them and You. On such your Muse her utmost fury spends, They're slander'd worse than any but your Friends. More years may teach you better; the mean while, If you can't mend your Morals, mend your Style_.



THE FORC'D MARRIAGE; OR, THE JEALOUS BRIDEGROOM.



ARGUMENT.

The King of France to reward his favourite Alcippus, at the motion of prince Philander, gladly assents to his being created general in place of old Orgulius, who seeks to resign his office, and further on his royal word pledges the new-made commander, Erminia, Orgulius' daughter, in marriage. The lady, however, loves the dauphin, whilst the princess Galatea is enamoured of Alcippus. All three are plunged into despair, and the brother and sister knowing each other's passion bemoan their hapless fate. The prince, indeed, threatens to kill Alcippus, upon which Galatea declares she will poniard Erminia. On the wedding night the bride confesses her love for Philander and refuses to admit Alcippus to her love. The dauphin at the same time serenades Erminia at her chamber door, but Pisaro, a friend to Alcippus, meeting him, there is a scuffle during which Alcander, the prince's companion, wounds the intruder. The noise rouses Erminia who issues from her room and encounters Philander. Alcippus, seeing them together, mad with jealousy, attacks the prince. He is, however, beaten back and even wounded, and later his fury is inflamed by Pisaro's tale, who also informs the favourite that Galatea, for whom the narrator cherishes a hopeless love, dotes fondly upon him. Erminia, now that she has been joined in wedlock with Alcippus, guards herself carefully from the dauphin's passion, but when the general is obliged by his duties to leave for the camp Philander hopes to persuade her to yield to him. Alcippus, however, whose departure is a feint, returns secretly, leaving Pisaro to continue the journey alone. Isillia, Erminia's woman, has already admitted Philander to her mistress' chamber, when the lovers are surprised by the arrival of Alcippus on the scene. The prince is concealed, although the meeting had been purely innocent, but he is betrayed owing to the fact of his inadvertently leaving his hat and sword upon a table. He departs unmolested, but once he is gone Alcippus, beside himself with blind fury, strangles Erminia with an embroidered garter—Pisaro, coming in a few moments after, reproaches him with the murder but hurries him away to concealment. The deed, however, is discovered and noised abroad by Falatius, a busy coxcomb courtier. Orgulius demands Alcippus' life from the King, but Galatea, heart-broken, pleads for the man she loves. Philander is distraught with grief, and the King decides that if he harms himself Alcippus shall straightway pay the forfeit. The prince is about to wreak his vengeance on the cruel husband when he is met by Erminia herself, who, owing to her maid's attentions, has recovered from the swoon Alcippus took for death. It is resolved that Alcippus, who is now torn with agony and remorse, must be fittingly punished, and accordingly as he lies sick at heart in his chamber Erminia enters as a spirit, and so looking over his shoulder into a mirror wherein he is gazing tells him plainly of Galatea's love. The princess then passes by as it were a phantom, and after a masque, which he takes for a dream, he is conducted to a room draped in black wherein is placed a catafalque. Here he encounters Philander and as they are at hot words the King, who has been privy to the whole design, enters and the two are reconciled. Erminia next appears, and the happy accident explained, Erminia is bestowed upon the dauphin, whilst the princess is united to the favourite.

There is a slight underplot which deals with the amours of Aminta, sister to Pisaro, and Alcander. She is also courted by the cowardly fop, Falatius.



SOURCE.

The Forc'd Marriage; or, The Jealous Bridegroom is the earliest, and most certainly one of the weakest of Mrs. Behn's plays. This is, however, far from saying that it is not a very good example of the Davenant, Howard, Porter, Stapylton school of romantic tragi-comedy. But Aphara had not yet hit upon her brilliant vein of intrigue. In The Forced Marriage she seems to have remembered The Maid's Tragedy. The situation between Alcippus and Erminia, Act ii, III, has some vague resemblance to that of Amintor and Evadne, Act ii, I. Aminta also faintly recalls Dula, whilst the song 'Hang love, for I will never pine' has a far-off echo of 'I could never have the power.' But Mrs. Behn has not approached within measuring distance of that supreme masterpiece.



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The stage history of The Forc'd Marriage; or, The Jealous Bridegroom is best told in the quaint phrase of old Downes. Produced in December, 1670 at the Duke's Theatre, Lincoln's Inn Fields, The Jealous Bridegroom, says the veteran prompter, 'wrote by Mrs. Behn, a good play and lasted six days'. This, it must be remembered, was by no means a poor run at that time. 'Note,' continues the record, 'In this play, Mr. Otway the poet having an inclination to turn actor; Mrs. Behn gave him the King in this play for a probation part, but he being not us'd to the stage, the full house put him to such a sweat and tremendous agony, being dash'd, spoilt him for an actor.'

To quote Mr. Gosse's excellent and classic essay on Otway:—'The choice of the part showed the kindly tact of the shrewd Mrs. Behn. The king had to speak the few first words, to which the audience never listens, to make some brief replies in the first scene, and then not to speak again until the end of the fourth act. In the fifth act he had to make rather a long speech to Smith [Mr. Gosse by a slip writes 'Betterton'. The King (v, III) is talking to Philander, acted by Smith. Betterton played the favourite Alcippus.], explaining that he was "old and feeble, and could not long survive," and this is nearly all he had to say till the very end, where he was in great force as the kind old man who unites the couples and speaks the last words. It was quite a crucial test, and Otway proved his entire inability to face the public. He trembled, was inaudible, melted in agony, and had to leave the stage. The part was given to Westwood, a professional actor, and Otway never essayed to tread the boards again.'

The Forced Marriage seems never to have been revived since its production. On the title page of the second quarto (1690), The Forc'd Marriage is said to have been played at the Queen's Theatre. This is because the Duke's House temporarily changed its name thus. It does not refer to a second run of the play.



THE FORC'D MARRIAGE;

or, the Jealous Bridegroom.



Va mon enfant! prends ta fortune.

PROLOGUE.

Gallants, our Poets have of late so us'd ye, In Play and Prologue too so much abus'd ye, That should we beg your aids, I justly fear, Ye're so incens'd you'd hardly lend it here. But when against a common Foe we arm, Each will assist to guard his own concern. Women those charming Victors, in whose Eyes Lie all their Arts, and their Artilleries, Not being contented with the Wounds they made, Would by new Stratagems our Lives invade. Beauty alone goes now at too cheap rates; And therefore they, like Wise and Politick States, Court a new Power that may the old supply, To keep as well as gain the Victory. They'll join the force of Wit to Beauty now, And so maintain the Right they have in you. If the vain Sex this privilege should boast, Past cure of a declining Face we're lost. You'll never know the bliss of Change; this Art Retrieves (when Beauty fades) the wandring Heart; And though the Airy Spirits move no more, Wit still invites, as Beauty did before. To day one of their Party ventures out, Not with design to conquer, but to scout. Discourage but this first attempt, and then They'll hardly dare to sally out again. The Poetess too, they say, has Spies abroad, Which have dispersed themselves in every road, I'th' Upper Box, Pit, Galleries; every Face You find disguis'd in a Black Velvet Case. My life on't; is her Spy on purpose sent, To hold you in a wanton Compliment; That so you may not censure what she 'as writ, Which done, they face you down 'twas full of Wit. Thus, while some common Prize you hope to win, You let the Tyrant Victor enter in. I beg to day you'd lay that humour by, Till your Rencounter at the Nursery; Where they, like Centinels from duty free, May meet and wanton with the Enemy.

Enter an Actress.

How hast thou labour'd to subvert in vain, What one poor Smile of ours calls home again? Can any see that glorious Sight and say

[Woman pointing to the ladies.

A Woman shall not Victor prove to day? Who is't that to their Beauty would submit, And yet refuse the Fetters of their Wit? He tells you tales of Stratagems and Spies; Can they need Art that have such powerful Eyes? Believe me, Gallants, he'as abus'd you all; There's not a Vizard in our whole Cabal: Those are but Pickeroons that scour for prey And catch up all they meet with in their way; Who can no Captives take, for all they do Is pillage ye, then gladly let you go. Ours scorns the petty Spoils, and do prefer The Glory not the Interest of the War: But yet our Forces shall obliging prove, Imposing nought but Constancy in Love: That's all our Aim, and when we have, it too, We'll sacrifice it all to pleasure you.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN.

King, Mr. Westwood. Philander, his Son, betrothed to Erminia, Mr. Smith. Alcippus, Favourite, in love with Erminia, Mr. Betterton. Orgulius, late General, Father to Erminia, Mr. Norris. Alcander, Friend to the Prince, in love with Aminta, Mr. Young. Pisaro, Friend to the young General Alcippus, Mr. Cademan. Falatius, a fantastick Courtier, Mr. Angel. Labree, his Man. Cleontius, Servant to the Prince, and Brother Mr. Crosby. to Isillia, Page to Pisaro.

WOMEN.

Galatea, Daughter to the King, Mrs. Jennings. Erminia, Daughter to Orgulius, espous'd to the Mrs. Betterton. Prince, Aminta, Sister to Pisaro, in love with Alcander, Mrs. Wright. Olinda, Sister to Alcander, Maid of Honour to Mrs. Lee. the Princess, Isillia, Sister to Cleontius, Woman to Erminia, Mrs. Clough. Lysette, Woman to Aminta. Clergy, Officers, Pages and Attendants.

Scene within the Court of FRANCE.



ACT I.

SCENE I. The Palace.

Enter King, Philander, Orgulius, Alcippus, Alcander, Pisaro, Cleontius, Falatius; and Officers.

King. How shall I now divide my Gratitude, Between a Son, and one that has oblig'd me, Beyond the common duty of a Subject?

Phil. Believe me, Sir, he merits all your Bounty, I only took example by his Actions; And all the part o'th' Victory which I gain'd, Was but deriv'd from him.

King. Brave Youth, whose Infant years did bring us Conquests; And as thou grew'st to Man, thou grew'st in Glory, And hast arriv'd to such a pitch of it, As all the slothful Youth that shall succeed thee, Shall meet reproaches of thy early Actions: When Men shall say, thus did the brave Alcippus; And that great Name shall every Soul inspire With Emulation to arrive at something, That's worthy of Example.

Alcip. I must confess I had the honour, Sir, To lead on twenty thousand fighting Men, Whom Fortune gave the Glory of the Day to. I only bid them fight, and they obey'd me; But 'twas my Prince that taught them how to do so.

King. I do believe Philander wants no courage; But what he did was to preserve his own. But thine the pure effects of highest Valour; For which, if ought below my Crown can recompense, Name it, and take it, as the price of it.

Alcip. The Duty which we pay your Majesty, Ought to be such, as what we pay the Gods; Which always bears its Recompence about it.

King. Yet suffer me to make thee some return, Though not for thee, yet to incourage Bravery. I know thy Soul is generous enough, To think a glorious Act rewards it self. But those who understand not so much Virtue, Will call it my neglect, and want of Gratitude; In this thy Modesty will wrong thy King. Alcippus, by this pause you seem to doubt My Power or Will; in both you are to blame.

Alcip. Your pardon, Sir; I never had a thought That could be guilty of so great a Sin. That I was capable to do you service, Was the most grateful Bounty Heaven allow'd me, And I no juster way could own that Blessing, Than to imploy the Gift for your repose.

King. I shall grow angry, and believe your Pride Would put the guilt off on your Modesty, Which would refuse what that believes below it.

Phil. Your Majesty thinks too severely of him; Permit me, Sir, to recompense his Valour, I saw the wonders on't, and thence may guess In some Degree, what may be worthy of it.

King. I like it well, and till thou hast perform'd it, I will divest my self of all my Power, And give it thee, till thou hast made him great.

Phil. I humbly thank you, Sir—

[Bows to the King, takes the Staff from Orgulius, and gives it to Alcippus, who looks amazedly.

And here I do create him General. You seem to wonder, as if I dispossess'd The brave Orgulius; but be pleas'd to know, Such Reverence and Respect I owe that Lord, As had himself not made it his Petition, I sooner should have parted with my Right, Than have discharg'd my debt by injuring him.

King. Orgulius, are you willing to resign it?

Org. With your permission, Sir, most willingly; His vigorous Youth is fitter for't than Age, Which now has render'd me uncapable Of what that can with more success perform. My Heart and Wishes are the same they were, But Time has quite depriv'd me of that power That should assist a happy Conqueror.

King. Yet Time has added little to your years, Since I restor'd you to this great Command, And then you thought it not unfit for you.

Org. Sir, was it fit I should refuse your Grace? That was your act of Mercy: and I took it To clear my Innocence, and reform the Errors Which those receiv'd who did believe me guilty, Or that my Crimes were greater than that Mercy. I took it, Sir, in scorn of those that hated me, And now resign it to the Man you love.

King. We need not this proof to confirm thy Loyalty; Nor am I yet so barren of Rewards, But I can find a way, without depriving Thy noble Head of its victorious Wreaths, To crown another's Temples.

Org. I humbly beg your Majesty's consent to't, If you believe Alcippus worthy of it; The generous Youth I have bred up to Battles, Taught him to overcome, and use that Conquest As modestly as his submissive Captive, His Melancholy, (but his easy Fetters) To meet Death's Horrors with undaunted looks: How to despise the Hardships of a Siege; To suffer Cold and Hunger, want of Sleep. Nor knew he other rest than on his Horse-back, Where he would sit and take a hearty Nap; And then too dreamt of fighting. I could continue on a day in telling The Wonders of this Warrior.

King. I credit all, and do submit to you. But yet Alcippus seems displeas'd with it.

Alcip. Ah, Sir! too late I find my Confidence Has overcome my unhappy Bashfulness; I had an humbler Suit to approach you with; But this unlook'd for Honour Has soon confounded all my lesser aims, As were they not essential to my Being, I durst not name them after what y'have done.

King. It is not well to think my Kindness limited; This, from the Prince you hold, the next from me; Be what it will, I here declare it thine. —Upon my life, designs upon a Lady; I guess it from thy blushing. —Name her, and here thy King engages for her.

Phi. O Gods!—What have I done? [Aside.

Alcip. Erminia, Sir.— [Bows.

Phi. I'm ruin'd.— [Aside.

King. Alcippus, with her Father's leave, she's thine.

Org. Sir, 'tis my Aim and Honour.

Phi. Alcippus, is't a time to think of Weddings, When the disorder'd Troops require your Presence? You must to the Camp to morrow.

Alcip. You need not urge that Duty to me, Sir.

King. A Day or two will finish that affair, And then we'll consummate the happy Day, When all the Court shall celebrate your Joy.

[They all go out, but Alcan. Pisa, and Fal.

Pis. Falatio, you are a swift Horseman; I believe you have a Mistress at Court, You made such haste this Morning.

Fal. By Jove, Pisaro, I was weary enough of the Campaign; and till I had lost sight of it, I clapt on all my Spurs— But what ails Alcander?

Pis. What, displeas'd?

Alcan. It may be so, what then?

Pis. Then thou mayst be pleas'd again.

Alcan. Why the Devil should I rejoice? Because I see another rais'd above me; Let him be great, and damn'd with all his Greatness.

Pis. Thou mean'st Alcippus, who I think merits it.

Alcan. What is't that thou cal'st Merit? He fought, it's true, so did you, and I, And gain'd as much as he o'th' Victory, But he in the Triumphal Chariot rode, Whilst we ador'd him like a Demi-God. He with the Prince an equal welcome found, Was with like Garlands, though less Merit, crown'd.

Fal. He's in the right for that, by Jove.

Pis. Nay, now you wrong him.

Alcan. What's he I should not speak my sense of him?

Pis. He is our General.

Alcan. What then? What is't that he can do, which I'll decline? Has he more Youth, more Strength, or Arms than I? Can he preserve himself i'th' heat of the Battle? Or can he singly fight a whole Brigade? Can he receive a thousand Wounds, and live?

Fal. Can you or he do so?

Alcan. I do not say I can; but tell me then, Where be the Virtues of this mighty Man, That he should brave it over all the rest?

Pis. Faith, he has many Virtues, and much Courage; And merits it as well as you or I: Orgulius was grown old.

Alcan. What then?

Pis. Why then he was unfit for't, But that he had a Daughter that was young.

Alcan. Yes, he might have lain by, Like rusty Armour, else, Had she not brought him into play again; The Devil take her for't.

Fal. By Jove, he's dissatisfy'd with every thing.

Alcan. She has undone my Prince, And he has most unluckily disarm'd himself, And put the Sword into his Rival's hand, Who will return it to his grateful Bosom.

Phi. Why, you believe Alcippus honest—

Alcan. Yes, in your sense, Pisaro, But do not like the last demand he made; 'Twas but an ill return upon his Prince, To beg his Mistress, rather challeng'd her.

Pis. His ignorance that she was so, may excuse him.

Alcan. The Devil 'twill, dost think he knew it not?

Pis. Orgulius still design'd him for Erminia; And if the Prince be disoblig'd from this, He only ought to take it ill from him.

Alcan. Too much, Pisaro, you excuse his Pride, But 'tis the Office of a Friend to do so.

Pis. 'Tis true, I am not ignorant of this, That he despises other Recompence For all his Services, but fair Erminia, I know 'tis long since he resign'd his Heart, Without so much as telling her she conquer'd; And yet she knew he lov'd; whilst she, ingrate, Repay'd his Passion only with her Scorn.

Alcan. In loving him, she'd more ingrateful prove To her first Vows, to Reason, and to Love.

Pis. For that, Alcander, you know more than I.

Fal. Why sure Aminta will instruct her better, She's as inconstant as the Seas and Winds, Which ne'er are calm but to betray Adventurers.

Alcan. How came you by that knowledg, Sir?

Fal. What a Pox makes him ask me that question now? [Aside.

Pis. Prithee, Alcander, now we talk of her, How go the Amours 'twixt you and my wild Sister? Can you speak yet, or do you tell your tale With Eyes and Sighs, as you were wont to do?

Alcan. Faith, much at that old rate, Pisaro, I yet have no incouragement from her To make my Court in any other language.

Pis. You'll bring her to't, she must be overcome, And you're the fittest for her fickle Humour.

Alcan. Pox on't, this Change will spoil our making Love, We must be sad, and follow the Court-Mode: My life on't, you'll see desperate doings here; The Eagle will not part so with his Prey; Erminia was not gain'd so easily, To be resign'd so tamely.—But come, my Lord, This will not satisfy our appetites, Let's in to Dinner, and when warm with Wine, We shall be fitter for a new Design.

[They go out. Fal. stays.

Fal. Now am I in a very fine condition, A comfortable one, as I take it: I have ventur'd my Life to some purpose now; What confounded luck was this, that he of all men Living, should happen to be my Rival? Well, I'll go visit Aminta, and see how She receives me.— Why, where a duce hast thou dispos'd of Enter Labree. Thy self all this day? I will be bound to be Hang'd if thou hast not a hankering after Some young Wench; thou couldst never loiter Thus else; but I'll forgive thee now, and prithee go to My Lady Aminta's Lodgings; kiss her hand From me; and tell her, I am just returned from The Campain: mark that word, Sirrah.

Lab. I shall, Sir, 'tis truth.

Fal. Well, that's all one; but if she should Demand any thing concerning me, (for Love's inquisitive) dost hear? as to my Valour, or so, Thou understand'st me; tell her I acted as a man that pretends to the glory of Serving her.

Lab. I warrant you, Sir, for a Speech.

Fal. Nay, thou mayst speak as well too much As too little; have a care of that, dost hear? And if she ask what Wounds I have, dost mind me? Tell her I have many, very many.

Lab. But whereabouts, Sir?

Fal. Let me see—let me see; I know not where To place them—I think in my Face.

Lab. By no means, Sir, you had much better Have them in your Posteriors: for then the Ladies Can never disprove you; they'll not look there.

Fal. The sooner, you Fool, for the Rarity on't.

Lab. Sir, the Novelty is not so great, I assure you.

Fal. Go to, y'are wicked; But I will have them in my Face.

Lab. With all my heart, Sir, but how?

Fal. I'll wear a patch or two there, and I'll Warrant you for pretending as much as any man; And who, you Fool, shall know the fallacy?

Lab. That, Sir, will all that know you, both in the Court and Camp.

Fal. Mark me, Labree, once for all; if thou takest Delight continually thus to put me in mind of My want of Courage, I shall undoubtedly Fall foul on thee, and give thee most fatal proofs Of more than thou expectest.

Lab. Nay, Sir, I have done, and do believe 'tis only I dare say you are a man of Prowess.

Fal. Leave thy simple fancies, and go about thy business.

Lab. I am gone; but hark, my Lord, If I should say your Face were wounded, The Ladies would fear you had lost your Beauty.

Fal. O, never trouble your head for that, Aminta Is a Wit, and your Wits care not how ill-favour'd Their Men be, the more ugly the better.

Lab. An't be so, you'll fit them to a hair.

Fal. Thou art a Coxcomb, to think a man of my Quality needs the advantage of Handsomness: A trifle as insignificant as Wit or Valour; poor Nothings, which Men of Fortune ought to despise.

Lab. Why do you then keep such a stir, to gain The reputation of this thing you so despise?

Fal. To please the peevish humour of a Woman, Who in that point only is a Fool.

Lab. You had a Mistress once, if you have not Forgotten her, who would have taken you with All these faults.

Fal. There was so; but she was poor, that's the Devil, I could have lov'd her else. —But go thy ways; what dost thou muse on?

Lab. Faith, Sir, I am only fearful you will never Pass with those Patches you speak of.

Fal. Thou never-to-be-reclaim'd Ass, shall I never Bring thee to apprehend as thou ought'st? I tell thee, I will pass and repass, where and how I please; Know'st thou not the difference yet, between a Man Of Money and Titles, and a Man of only Parts, As they call them? poor Devils of no Mein nor Garb: Well, 'tis a fine and frugal thing, this Honour, It covers a multitude of Faults: Even Ridicule in one of us is a-la-mode. But I detain thee; go haste to Aminta.

[Exeunt severally.



SCENE II. Galatea's Apartments.

Enter Galatea, Aminta, and Olinda.

Gal. Will Erminia come?

Oli. Madam, I thought she'd been already here.

Gal. But prithee how does she support this news?

Oli. Madam, as those unreconciled to Heaven Would bear the pangs of death.

Am. Time will convince her of that foolish error, Of thinking a brisk young Husband a torment.

Gal. What young Husband?

Am. The General, Madam.

Gal. Why, dost thou think she will consent to it?

Am. Madam, I cannot tell, the World's inconstant.

Gal. Ay, Aminta, in every thing but Love; And sure they cannot be in that: What say'st thou, Olinda?

Oli. Madam, my Judgment's naught. Love I have treated as a stranger Guest, Receiv'd him well, not lodg'd him in my Breast. I ne'er durst give the unknown Tyrant room; Lest he should make his resting place his home.

Gal. Then thou art happy; but if Erminia fail, I shall not live to reproach her.

Am. Nay, Madam, do not think of dying yet: There is a way, if we could think of it.

Gal. Aminta, when will thou this Humour lose?

Am. Faith, never, if I might my Humour chuse.

Gal. Methinks thou now should'st blush to bid me live.

Am. Madam, 'tis the best counsel I can give.

Gal. Thy Counsel! Prithee, what dost counsel now?

Am. What I would take my self I counsel you.