Sir Cred. Now, Sir, my service to you. [Drinks.

Enter Fanny.

Fan. Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they are a sort of new-fashion'd Conventiclers:—I'll hear 'em preach. [They drink round the while.

Amst. Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.

Leyd. Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst. [Drinks.

Turb. To our better trading, Sir.

Brun. Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and 'twas a very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good round Fees to give.

Turb. Verily, I have not kill'd above my five or six this Week.

Brun. How, Sir, kill'd?

Turb. Kill'd, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the grand Verole; for 'tis not for a Man's Credit to let the Patient want an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill'd ye my five or six dozen a Week—but times are hard.

Brun. I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation. [Sir Cred. and Fat seeming in Discourse.

Sir Cred. Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir— [Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all Devonshire.

Fat D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir. [Here they all talk together till you come to—purpose, Sir.

Turb. Pray, what News is there stirring?

Brun. Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether Lewis or Philip have the better or the worst.

Turb. Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.

Brun. You are i'th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.

Leyd. Well, Sir, Stetin held out nobly, though the Gazettes are various.

Amst. There's a world of Men kill'd they say; why, what a shame 'tis so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.

Leyd. Hang 'em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my service to you, Sir, they'll serve to fill up Trenches.

Sir Cred. Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses better than my self.

Fat D. Your pardon for that, Sir.

Sir Cred. For look ye, Sir, I'll tell you the Nature of Dogs and Horses.

Fat D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what's this to th' purpose, Sir? [Here they leave off.

Sir Cred. To th' purpose, Sir! good Mr. Hedleburgh, do you understand what's to th' purpose? you're a Dutch Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.

Fat D. You're an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.

Sir Cred. You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.

Amst. What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.

Sir Cred. That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is't since you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?—but let that pass, for I'll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with no Man, and so I drink.— [Goes to fill again.

Brun. —But, what's all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?

Sir Cred. Ay,—the Wine's all out,—and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive necessary to be said for our Fees.

Fat D. I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he's a dead Man.

Sir Cred. Ay, Sir, a dead Man.

Fat D. Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor. [To Amst.

Amst. Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I at the Board.

Sir Cred. A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dying [Aside.] —Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years. [They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.

Amst. I commenc'd at Paris twenty years ago.

Leyd. And I at Leyden, almost as long since.

Fat D. And I at Barcelona thirty.

Sir Cred. And I at Padua, Sir.

Fat D. You at Padua?

Sir Cred. Yes, Sir, I at Padua; why, what a pox, do ye think I never was beyond Sea?

Brun. However, Sir, you are the youngest Doctor, and must write.

Sir Cred. I will not lose an inch of my Dignity.

Fat D. Nor I.

Amst. Nor I.

Leyd. Nor I. [Put the Paper from each other.

Brun. Death, what Rascals are these?

Sir Cred. Give me the Pen—here's ado about your Paduas and Punctilioes. [Sets himself to write.

Amst. Every morning a Dose of my Pills Merda queorusticon, or the Amicable Pill.

Sir Cred. Fasting?

Leyd. Every Hour sixscore drops of Adminicula Vitae.

Sir Cred. Fasting too? [Sir Cred. writes still.

Fat D. At Night twelve Cordial Pills, Gallimofriticus.

Turb. Let Blood once a Week, a Glister once a day.

Brun. Cry Mercy, Sir, you're a French Man.—After his first Sleep, threescore restorative Pills, call'd Cheatus Redivivus.

Sir Cred. And lastly, fifteen Spoonfuls of my Aqua Tetrachymagogon, as often as 'tis necessary; little or no Breakfast, less Dinner, and go supperless to Bed.

Fat D. Hum, your Aqua Tetrachymagogon?

Sir Cred. Yes, Sir, my Tetrachymagogon; for look ye, do you see, Sir, I cur'd the Arch-Duke of Strumbulo of a Gondileero, of which he dy'd, with this very Aqua Tetrachymagogon.

Enter Sir Patient.

Sir Pat. Well, Gentlemen, am I not an intruder?

Fat D. Sir, we have duly consider'd the state of your Body; and are now about the Order and Method you are to observe.

Brun. Ay, this Distemper will be the occasion of his Death.

Sir Cred. Hold, Brothers, I do not say the occasion of his Death; but the occasional Cause of his Death. [Sir Pat. reads the Bill.

Sir Pat. Why, here's no time allow'd for eating, Gentlemen.

Amst. Sir, we'll justify this Prescription to the whole College.

Leyd. If he will not follow it, let him die.

All. Ay, let him die.

Enter Lodwick and Leander.

Lod. What, have you consulted without me, Gentlemen? [Lod. reads the Bill.

Sir Pat. Yes, Sir, and find it absolutely necessary for my Health, Sir, I shou'd be starv'd: and yet you say I am not sick, Sir. [To Lean.

Lod. Very well, very well.

Sir Pat. No Breakfast, no Dinner, no Supper?

Sir Cred. Little or none, but none's best.

Sir Pat. But, Gentlemen, consider, no small thing?

All. Nothing, nothing.

Sir Cred. Sir, you must write for your Fee. [To Lod.

Lod. Now I think on't, Sir, you may eat [Writes. a roasted Pippin cold upon a Vine-leaf, at night.

Lean. Do you see, Sir, what damn'd canting Rascals these Doctors are?

Sir Pat. Ay, ay, if all Doctors were such, ingenuously, I shou'd soon be weary of Physick.

Lean. Give 'em their Fees, Sir, and send 'em to the Devil for a Company of Cheats.

Sir Pat. Truth is, there is no faith in 'em,—well, I thank you for your Care and Pains. [Gives 'em Fees.

Sir Cred. Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the red-colour'd Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in't, in the Strand; where you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature in my House but my self, and my whole Family.—

Ick quam Van Neder Landt te spreken End helpen Van Pocken end ander gebreken.

That's a top of my Bill, sweet Sir.

[Exeunt Doctors.

Fan. Lord, Sir Father, why do you give 'em Money?

Lean. For talking Nonsense this Hour or two upon his Distemper.

Fan. Oh lemini, Sir, they did not talk one word of you, but of Dogs and Horses, and of killing Folks, and of their Wives and Daughters; and when the Wine was all out, they said they wou'd say something for their Fees.

Sir Pat. Say you so!—Knaves, Rogues, Cheats, Murderers! I'll be reveng'd on 'em all,—I'll ne'er be sick again,—or if I be, I'll die honestly of my self without the assistance of such Rascals,—go, get you gone.— [To Fan. who goes out.

Lean. A happy resolution! wou'd you wou'd be so kind to your self as to make a trial of your Lady too; and if she prove true, 'twill make some kind of amends for your so long being cozen'd this way.

Sir Pat. I'll about it, this very minute about it,—give me a Chair.— [He sits.

Lean. So, settle your self well, disorder your Hair,—throw away your Cane, Hat and Gloves,—stare, and rowl your Eyes, squeeze your Face into Convulsions,—clutch your Hands, make your Stomach heave, so, very well,—now let me alone for the rest—Oh, help, help, my Lady, my Aunt, for Heavens sake, help,—come all and see him die. [Weeps.

Enter Wittmore, Lady Fancy, Isabella, Lucretia, Lady Knowell, Roger, and Nurse.

Wit. Leander, what's the matter?

Lean. See, Madam, see my Uncle in the Agonies of Death.

L. Fan. My dearest Husband dying, Oh! [Weeps.

Lean. How hard he struggles with departing Life!

Isab. Father, dear Father, must I in one day receive a Blessing with so great a Curse? Oh,—he's just going, Madam.— [Weeps.

L. Fan. Let me o'ertake him in the Shades below, why do you hold me, can I live without him? do I dissemble well?— [Aside to Wit.

Sir Pat. Not live without me!—do you hear that, Sirrah? [Aside to Lean.

Lean. Pray mark the end on't, Sir,—feign,—feign.—

L. Kno. We left him well, how came he thus o'th' sudden?

Lean. I fear 'tis an Apoplexy, Madam.

L. Fan. Run, run for his Physician; but do not stir a foot. [Aside to Roger. Look up, and speak but one kind word to me.

Sir Pat. What crys are these that stop me on my way?

L. Fan. They're mine,—your Lady's—oh, surely he'll recover. [Aside. Your most obedient Wife's.

Sir Pat. My Wife's, my Heir, my sole Executrix.

L. Fan. Hah, is he in's Senses? [Aside to Wit. Oh my dear Love, my Life, my Joy, my All, [Crys. Oh, let me go; I will not live without him. [Seems to faint in Wittmore's Arms. All run about her.

Sir Pat. Do ye hear that, Sirrah?

Lean. Have yet a little Patience, die away,—very well—Oh, he's gone,—quite gone. [L. Fan. swoons.

L. Kno. Look to my Lady there, [Swoons again. —Sure she can but counterfeit. [Aside. [They all go about her.

Sir Pat. Hah, my Lady dying!

Lean. Sir, I beseech you wait the event. Death! the cunning Devil will dissemble too long and spoil all,—here—carry the dead Corps of my dearest Uncle to his Chamber. Nurse, to your Care I commit him now.

[Exeunt with Sir Pat. in a Chair. [All follow but Wittmore; who going the other way, meets Sir Credulous and Lodwick, as before.

Wit. Lodwick! the strangest unexpected News, Sir Patient's dead!

Sir Cred. How, dead! we have play'd the Physicians to good purpose, i'faith, and kill'd the Man before we administer'd our Physick.

Wit. Egad, I fear so indeed.

Lod. Dead!

Wit. As a Herring, and 'twill be dangerous to keep these habits longer.

Sir Cred. Dangerous! Zoz, Man, we shall all be hang'd, why, our very Bill dispatch'd him, and our Hands are to't,—Oh, I'll confess all.— [Offers to go.

Lod. Death, Sir, I'll cut your Throat if you stir.

Sir Cred. Wou'd you have me hang'd for Company, Gentlemen? Oh, where shall I hide my self, or how come at my Clothes?

Lod. We have no time for that; go get you into your Basket again, and lie snug, till I have convey'd you safe away,—or I'll abandon you.— [Aside to him. 'Tis not necessary he shou'd be seen yet, he may spoil Leander's Plot. [Aside.

Sir Cred. Oh, thank ye, dear Lodwick,—let me escape this bout, and if ever the Fool turn Physician again, may he be choak'd with his own Tetrachymagogon.

Wit. Go, haste and undress you, whilst I'll to Lucia.

[Exeunt Lod. and Sir Cred.

As Wittmore is going out at one Door, enter Sir Patient and Leander at the other Door.

Lean. Hah, Wittmore there! he must not see my Uncle yet. [Puts Sir Pat. back. [Exit Wit.

Sir Pat. Nay, Sir, never detain me, I'll to my Lady, is this your Demonstration?—Was ever so virtuous a Lady—Well, I'll to her, and console her poor Heart; ah, the Joy 'twill bring her to see my Resurrection!—I long to surprize her. [Going off cross the Stage.

Lean. Hold, Sir, I think she's coming,—blest sight, and with her Wittmore! [Puts Sir Pat. back to the Door.

Enter Lady Fancy and Wittmore.

Sir Pat. Hah, what's this?

L. Fan. Now, my dear Wittmore, claim thy Rites of Love without controul, without the contradiction of wretched Poverty or Jealousy: Now undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o'er all my Pleasures and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin my Homage.— [Kisses him.

Sir Pat. Sure 'tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.

Lean. 'Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.

Wit. Thou wondrous kind, and wondrous beautiful; that Power that made thee with so many Charms, gave me a Soul fit only to adore 'em; nor wert thou destin'd to another's Arms, but to be render'd still more fit for mine.

Sir Pat. Hah, is not that Fainlove, Isabella's Husband? Oh Villain! Villain! I will renounce my Sense and my Religion. [Aside.

L. Fan. Another's Arms! Oh, call not those hated Thoughts to my remembrance, Lest it destroy that kindly Heat within me, Which thou canst only raise and still maintain.

Sir Pat. Oh Woman! Woman! damn'd dissembling Woman. [Aside.

L. Fan. Come, let me lead thee to that Mass of Gold he gave me to be despis'd; And which I render thee, my lovely Conqueror, As the first Tribute of my glorious Servitude.

Draw in the Basket which I told you of, and is amongst the Rubbish in the Hall. [Exit Wittmore.] That which the Slave so many Years was toiling for, I in one moment barter for a Kiss, as Earnest of our future Joys.

Sir Pat. Was ever so prodigal a Harlot? was this the Saint? was this the most tender Consort that ever Man had?

Lean. No, in good faith, Sir.

Enter Wittmore pulling in the Basket.

L. Fan. This is it, with a direction on't to thee, whither I design'd to send it.

Wit. Good morrow to the Day, and next the Gold; Open the Shrine, that I may see my Saint— Hail the World's Soul,— [Opens the Basket, Sir Cred. starts up.

L. Fan. O Heavens! what thing art thou?

Sir Cred. O, Pardon, Pardon, sweet Lady, I confess I had a hand in't.

L. Fan. In what, thou Slave?—

Sir Cred. Killing the good believing Alderman;—but 'twas against my Will.

L. Fan. Then I'm not so much oblig'd to thee,—but where's the Money, the 8000l. the Plate and Jewels, Sirrah?

Wit. Death, the Dog has eat it.

Sir Cred. Eat it! Oh Lord, eat 8000l. Wou'd I might never come out of this Basket alive, if ever I made such a Meal in my Life.

Wit. Ye Dog, you have eat it; and I'll make ye swallow all the Doses you writ in your Bill, but I'll have it upward or downward. [Aside.

Sir Pat. Hah, one of the Rogues my Doctors.

Sir Cred. Oh, dear Sir, hang me out of the way rather.

Enter Maundy.

Maun. Madam, I have sent away the Basket to Mr. Wittmore's Lodgings.

L. Fan. You might have sav'd your self that Labour, I now having no more to do, but to bury the stinking Corps of my quandom Cuckold, dismiss his Daughters, and give thee quiet possession of all. [To Wit.

Sir Pat. Fair Lady, you'll take me along with you? [Snaps, pulls off his Hat, and comes up to her.

L. Fan. My Husband!—I'm betray'd—

Sir Pat. Husband! I do defy thee, Satan, thou greater Whore than she of Babylon; thou Shame, thou Abomination to thy Sex.

L. Fan. Rail on, whilst I dispose my self to laugh at thee.

Sir Pat. Leander, call all the House in to be a Witness of our Divorce. [Exit Lean.

L. Fan. Do, and all the World, and let 'em know the Reason.

Sir Pat. Methinks I find an Inclination to swear,—to curse my self and thee, that I cou'd no better discern thee; nay, I'm so chang'd from what I was, that I think I cou'd even approve of Monarchy and Church-Discipline, I'm so truly convinc'd I have been a Beast and an Ass all my Life.

Enter Lady Knowell, Isabella, Lucretia, Leander, Lodwick, Fanny, &c.

L. Kno. Hah, Sir Patient not dead?

Sir Pat. Ladies and Gentlemen, take notice that I am a Cuckold, a crop-ear'd snivelling Cuckold.

Sir Cred. A Cuckold! sweet Sir, shaw, that's a small matter in a Man of your Quality.

Sir Pat. And I beg your pardon, Madam, for being angry that you call'd me so. [To L. Kno.] And yours, dear Isabella, for desiring you to marry my good Friend there [Points to Wit.] whose name I perceive I was mistaken in:—and yours, Leander, that I wou'd not take your Advice long since: and yours, fair Lady, for believing you honest,—'twas done like a credulous Coxcomb:—and yours, Sir, for taking any of your Tribe for wise, learned or honest. [To Sir Credulous.

Wit. Faith, Sir, I deceiv'd ye only to serve my Friend; and, Sir, your Daughter is married to Mr Knowell: your Wife had all my stock of Love before, Sir. [Lod. and Isab. kneel.

Sir Pat. Why, God-a-mercy—some comfort that,—God bless ye.—I shall love Disobedience while I live for't.

Lod. I am glad on't, Sir, for then I hope you will forgive Leander, who has married my Sister, and not my Mother.

Sir Pat. How! has he served me so?—I'll make him my Heir for't, thou hast made a Man of me, my Boy, and, faith, we will be merry,—Fair Lady, you may depart in peace, fair Lady, restoring my Money, my Plate, my Jewels and my Writings, fair Lady.—

L. Fan. You gave me no Money, Sir, prove it if you can; and for your Land, 'twas not settled with this Proviso, if she be honest?

Sir Pat. 'Tis well thou dost confess I am a Cuckold, for I wou'd have it known, fair Lady.

L. Fan. 'Twas to that end I married you, good Alderman.

Sir Pat. I'faith, I think thou didst, Sweet-heart, i'faith, I think thou didst.

Wit. Right, Sir, we have long been Lovers, but want of Fortune made us contrive how to marry her to your good Worship. Many a wealthy Citizen, Sir, has contributed to the maintenance of a younger Brother's Mistress; and you are not the first Man in Office that has been a Cuckold, Sir.

Sir Pat. Some comfort that too, the Brethren of the Chain cannot laugh at me.

Sir Cred. A very pleasant old Fellow this: faith, I cou'd be very merry with him now, but that I am damnable sad.—Madam, I shall desire to lay the Saddle on the right Horse. [To L. Kno.

L. Kno. What mean you, Sir?

Sir Cred. Only, Madam, if I were as some Men are, I should not be as I am.

L. Kno. It may be so, Sir.

Sir Cred. I say no more, but matters are not carried so swimmingly, but I can dive into the meaning on't. [Sir Patient talks this while to Lodwick.

L. Kno. I hate this hypothetical way of arguing, answer me categorically.

Sir Cred. Hypothetical and Categorical! what does she mean now? [Aside.] —Madam, in plain English, I am made a John-a-Nokes of, Jack-hold-my-staff, a Merry Andrew Doctor, to give Leander time to marry your Daughter; and 'twas therefore I was hoisted up in the Basket;—but as the play says, 'tis well 'tis no worse: I'd rather lose my Mistress than my Life.

Sir Pat. But how came this Rascal Turboon to admit you?

Lod. For the Lucre of our Fees, Sir, which was his recompence.

Sir Pat. I forgive it you, and will turn Spark, they live the merriest Lives—keep some City Mistress, go to Court, and hate all Conventicles.

You see what a fine City-Wife can do Of the true-breed; instruct her Husband too: I wish all civil Cuckolds in the Nation Would take example by my Reformation.



EPILOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. Gwin.

I here and there o'erheard a Coxcomb cry, [Looking about. Ah, Rot it—'tis a Woman's Comedy, One, who because she lately chanc'd to please us, With her damn'd Stuff, will never cease to teeze us. What has poor Woman done, that she must be Debar'd from Sense, and sacred Poetry? Why in this Age has Heaven allow'd you more, And Women less of Wit than heretofore? We once were fam'd in story, and could write Equal to Men; cou'd govern, nay, cou'd fight. We still have passive Valour, and can show, } Wou'd Custom give us leave, the active too, } Since we no Provocations want from you. } For who but we cou'd your dull Fopperies bear, Your saucy Love, and your brisk Nonsense hear; Indure your worse than womanish Affectation, Which renders you the Nusance of the Nation; Scorn'd even by all the Misses of the Town, A Jest to Vizard Mask, the Pit-Buffoon; A Glass by which the admiring Country Fool May learn to dress himself en Ridicule: Both striving who shall most ingenious grow In Leudness, Foppery, Nonsense, Noise and Show. And yet to these fine things we must submit Our Reason, Arms, our Laurels, and our Wit. Because we do not laugh at you, when leud, And scorn and cudgel ye when you are rude. That we have nobler Souls than you, we prove, By how much more we're sensible of Love; Quickest in finding all the subtlest ways To make your Joys, why not to make you Plays? We best can find your Foibles, know our own, } And Jilts and Cuckolds now best please the Town; } Your way of Writing's out of fashion grown. } Method, and Rule—you only understand; Pursue that way of Fooling, and be damn'd. Your learned Cant of Action, Time and Place, Must all give way to the unlabour'd Farce. To all the Men of Wit we will subscribe: But for your half Wits, you unthinking Tribe, We'll let you see, whate'er besides we do, How artfully we copy some of you: And if you're drawn to th' Life, pray tell me then, Why Women should not write as well as Men.

* * * * * * * * *

NOTES: Sir Patient Fancy

NOTES ON THE TEXT.

To the Reader

p. 7, l. 1 To the Reader. Only in 4to 1678.

Dramatis Personae

p. 10 Dramatis Personae. I have added 'Abel (Bartholmew), Clerk to Sir Patient Fancy; Brunswick, a friend to Lodwick Knowell; Antic, Waiting-woman to Lucretia; Nurse; Guests.' In former editions the physicians are grouped together as 'Five Doctors', and The Lady Knowell is mistakenly termed 'Mother to Lodwick and Isabella', which I have corrected to 'and Lucretia'. I have noted the confusion of 'Abel' and 'Bartholmew' in the introduction, pp. 5-6.

ACT I: Scene i

p. 11, l. 2 I have added 'in Lady Knowell's House.'

p. 13, l. 14 Foibles. 4to 1678 'feables'.

p. 14, l. 17 apamibominous ... podas. 4to 1678 'apamibominus ... Podis'.

p. 15, l. 3 Mudd. 1724 'mad'.

ACT I: Scene ia

p. 16, l. 12 now, Curry, from. 1724 omits 'Curry'.

p. 16, l. 25 Branford. 1724 here and infra 'Brentford'.

p. 16, l. 30 Cuffet's. 1724 'Cusset's'.

p. 22, l. 22 not. Erroneously omitted by 4to 1678.

p. 23, l. 2 a Dog. 4to 1678 'the Dog.'

p. 23, l. 16 with Page. I have added the Page's exit.

p. 25, l. 20 Ex. severally. 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the First Act.'

ACT II: Scene i

p. 25, l. 22 to Sir Patient Fancy's House. I have added these words.

p. 33, l. 27 Exit with L. Fan. I have added the necessary 'with L. Fan.' 4to 1678 reads 'Goes out.'

p. 35, l. 2 Roger attending. I have added this entrance of Roger here.

p. 36, l. 21 Enter Sir Patient. 4to 1678 gives this entrance after 'mercy', l. 22.

p. 40, l. 25 Exit Roger. I have added this exit here, and at p. 43, l. 2.

ACT II: Scene ii

p. 44, l. 6 Exeunt severally. 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Second Act.'

ACT III: Scene i

p. 44, l. 9 to a room in Sir Patient Fancy's house. I have supplied this locale.

p. 45, l. 11 and Maundy. I have supplied Maundy's entrance here.

ACT III: Scene ii

p. 47, l. 1 a thousand Faults. 1724 mistakenly reads 'a thousand hidden Faults'.

p. 48, l. 34 in spite to. 1724 'in spite of' which makes nonsense of the passage.

ACT III: Scene iii

p. 49, l. 8 Scene III. I have numbered this and all the succeeding scenes of Act III.

ACT III: Scene vii

p. 53, l. 32 Within. Not in any previous edition.

p. 54, l. 10 Within. All previous editions print this stage direction as part of Sir Patient's speech.

p. 54, l. 19 Discovery. All previous editions here have 'Enter Sir Patient', which is a very patent error. I have supplied 'Within' as stage direction.

ACT III: Scene viii

p. 59, l. 6 Isabella, Fanny. I have supplied 'Fanny' to this stage direction.

ACT III: Scene ix

p. 59, l. 19 D'on. 4to 1678 misprints 'D'on on Flannel'.

p. 60, l. 13 Enter Roger. I have supplied the names 'Roger' and 'Abel' to this stage direction.

p. 61, l. 13 Exeunt. 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Third Act.'

ACT IV: Scene i

p. 71, l. 27 are. 4to 1678, not so well, 'were'.

ACT IV: Scene ii

p. 72, l. 19 A Chamber in Sir Patient Fancy's House. I have supplied this locale.

p. 77, l. 2 come. 4to 1678 'came'.

p. 77, l. 33 but for my sending him, Madam, credit me. 1724 omits this sentence.

p. 79, l. 13 sad. 1724 'said'.

p. 79, l. 31 Exit. I have supplied this stage direction.

ACT IV: Scene iii

p. 81, l. 1 Exit Roger. I have supplied this.

p. 81, l. 11 little. 1724 misprints 'letter'.

p. 82, l. 30 Fanny and Nurse go. All previous editions have 'Fanny goes'.

ACT IV: Scene iv

p. 82, l. 31 Scene IV. I have numbered this scene.

p. 82, l. 33 Entering. I have supplied this necessary stage direction.

p. 87, l. 15 Hogsdowne. 1724 'Hogsdon'.

ACT V: Scene i

p. 89, l. 3 leading her. Omitted in 1724. 4to 1678 here has 'The End of the Fourth Act.'

p. 89, l. 5 Scene I. A Room. All previous editions have 'Scene I. A Table and Six Chairs.'

p. 89, l. 28 come. 4to 1678 'came'.

p. 95, l. 20 fatum. 4to 1678 'facum.'

p. 96, l. 2 and will. 1724, very erroneously, 'and I will'.

p. 98, l. 13 and Bartholomew. I have added this entrance, unmarked in former editions, as later in the scene (p. 99, l. 30) he is addressed.

p. 98, l. 16 Exit Roger. I have supplied this.

p. 99, l. 35 Exit. I have added this stage direction.

p. 100, l. 4 Exit Lod. This is unmarked in previous editions.

p. 100, l. 25 Medicinae Professores. 1724 'Medicina Presessores, qui hic assemblati esti, & vos altra Mesioris'.

p. 101, l. 12 Deliberation. 4to 1678 here has '[Goes out.' which must obviously be a mistake.

p. 102, l. 2 Whirligigoustiphon. 1724 'Whirligigousticon'.

p. 107, l. 36 Exeunt Doctors. All previous editions faultily have 'Exeunt.' after 'whole Family.—' I have added 'Doctors.'

p. 108, l. 27 and Nurse. I have added these words as she is addressed later in the scene (p. 109, l. 31.)

p. 110, l. 24 and Sir Cred. I have added these words.

p. 111, l. 34 Consort. 1724 'Comfort'.

NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.

To the Reader

p. 7 to show their breeding (as Bays sayes). cf. The Rehearsal, II, ii:—

1 King. You must begin, Mon foy. 2 King. Sweet, Sir, Pardonnes moy. Bayes. Mark that: I makes 'em both speak French to shew their breeding.

ACT I: Scene i

p. 14 Armida. cf. Tasso's La Gerusalemme Liberata, canto xiv, &c. Armida is called Corcereis owing to the beauty and wonder of her enchanted garden. Corcyra was the abode of King Alcinous, of whose court, parks and orchards a famous description is to be found in the seventh Odyssey. Martial (xiii, 37), speaks of 'Corcyraei horti', a proverbial phrase.

ACT I: Scene ia

p. 20 Mum budget. 'Mum budget', meaning 'hush', was originally the name of a children's game which required silence, cf. Merry Wives of Windsor, V, iv: 'I ... cried mum and she cried budget.' cf. also the term 'Whist'.

p. 22 Beginning at Eight. The idea of this little speech is, of course, from Bonnecorse's La Montre, Mrs. Behn's translation of which will be found with an introduction in Vol. VI, p. 1.

p. 22 the Bergere. cf. The Feign'd Curtezans (Vol. II, p. 346): 'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).

ACT II: Scene i

p. 32 Ay and No Man. cf. Prologue to The False Count (Vol. III, p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).

ACT III: Scene i

p. 44 Within a Mile of an Oak. A proverbial saw. cf. D'Urfey's Don Quixote (1696), III, Act V, i, where Teresa cries: 'The Ass was lost yesterday, and Master Carasco tells us your Worship can tell within a mile of an Oak where he is.'

p. 44 Rustick Antick. A quaint country dance.

ACT IV: Scene i

p. 62 Hypallages. A figure of speech by which attributes are transferred from their proper subjects to others.

p. 62 Belli fugaces. Ovid, Amorum, I, 9, has 'Militat omnis amans et habet sua castra Cupido', and the idea is common. I have made no attempt to correct the tags of Latinity in this play. Mrs. Behn openly confessed she knew no Latin, and she was ill supplied here. I do not conceive that the words are intentionally faulty and grotesque. Lady Knowell is a pedant, but not ignorant.

p. 65 Madame Brenvilliers. Marie-Marguerite d'Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers, was executed at Paris 16 July, 1676.

p. 66 Bilbo-Blades! Or oftener 'bilbo-lords', = swash-bucklers, cf. The Pilgrim (folio, 1647), V, vi, where Juletta calls the old angry Alphonso 'My Bilbo Master'.

p. 70 whip slap-dash. These nonsensical bywords, which were very popular, are continually in the mouth of Sir Samuel Harty, a silly coxcomb in Shadwell's The Virtuoso (1676). Nokes, who was acting Sir Credulous, had created Sir Samuel Harty.

p. 71 The Bell in Friday-street. The Bell was an inn of note in Friday Street, Cheapside. cf. Cal. State Papers (1603-10, p. 455): 'Sir Thomas Estcourt ... to Thomas Wilson. Is about to leave London and proffers his services. If he has occasion to write to him he may have weekly messengers ... at the Bell, Friday Street.'

ACT IV: Scene ii

p. 79 th' Exercise. The puritanical term for private worship, cf. 1663 Flagellum; or, O. Cromwell (1672), 21. 'The Family was called together to prayers; at which Exercise ... they continued long.' cf. The Roundheads (Vol. I), Act II, i: 'his Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self.'

ACT IV: Scene iv

p. 83 Mirabilis. Aqua mirabilis, a well-known invigorating cordial, cf. Dryden's Marriage a la Mode (1672), III, i: 'The country gentlewoman ... who ... opens her dear bottle of Mirabilis beside, for a gill glass of it at parting.'

p. 84 Tranghams. Nick-nacks, toys, trinkets, cf. Arbuthnot, History of John Ball (1712-3), Pt. II, c. vi: 'What's the meaning of all these trangrams and gimcracks?'

ACT V: Scene i

p. 92 to souse. cf. Florio (ed. 1611): 'to leape or seaze greedily upon, to souze downe as a hauke.'

p. 93 this Balatroon. A rogue. The word is very rare. cf. Cockeram (1623): 'Ballatron, a rascally base knave.'

p. 95 Rotat omne fatum. This would be an exceptionally rare use of rotare = rotari, intransitive. But Mrs. Behn, as Dryden tells us in his preface to the translation of Ovid's Heroides (1680) 'by many hands', insisted upon the fact that she knew no Latin.

p. 100 Medicinae Professores. This is from the Troisieme Intermede of Le Malade Imaginaire which commences:—

Savantissimi doctores, Medicinae professores, Qui hic assemblati estis; Et vos, altri messiores, Sententiarum facultatis.

p. 101 Vanderbergen. A well-known empiric of the day.

p. 102 Haly the Moore, and Rabbi Isaac. Ali Bey (Bobrowski), a Polish scholar, died at Constantinople 1675. He wrote, amongst other treatises, De Circumcisione; De Aegrotorum Visitatione. These were published at Oxford in 1691. Isaac Levita or Jean Isaac Levi was a celebrated rabbi of the sixteenth century. A professor at Cologne, he practised medicine and astrology.

p. 104 Stetin. Stettin, the capital of Pomerania, was one of the chief towns of the Hanseatic league. Occupied by Sweden 1637-1713, it was the centre of continual military operations.

p. 105 A Dutch Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin. These terms are common abuse as applied to a corpulent person. A firkin (Mid. Dut., vierdekijn) = a small cask for holding liquids or butter; originally half-a-kilderkin. Dictionary of the Canting Crew (1700) has 'Firkin of foul Stuff; a ... Coarse, Corpulent Woman'. cf. Dryden's Mac Flecknoe (1682):—

A Tun of Man in thy large Bulk is writ, But sure thou'rt but a Kilderkin of wit.

Shadwell was extremely gross in habit and of an unwieldy size.

p. 105 Toping and Napping. 'To top' and 'to nap' are slang terms signifying to cheat, especially with dice. cf. R. Head, Canting Academy (1673), 'What chance of the dye is soonest thrown in topping, shoring, palming, napping.' Both words occur very frequently, and are amply explained in the Slang Dictionaries.

p. 105 Cater-Tray. Quatre-trois; a cast at dice.

p. 112 Good morrow. Wittmore quotes the opening lines of Volpone, Act I, i:

Good morning to the day; and next my gold! Open the shrine that I may see my saint. Hail the world's soul and mine!

p. 115 John-a-Nokes. The fictitious name for the one party in a legal action. The term came to have the same meaning as 'Jack-hold-my-staff' = any fool or nincompoop.

Epilogue

p. 116 Vizard Mask. The commonest Restoration synonym for a 'bona roba', especially as plying the theatre.

* * * * * * * * *

Cross-References from Critical Notes: Sir Patient Fancy

p. 22 the Bergere. cf. The Feign'd Curtezans (Vol. II, p. 346): 'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).

Feign'd Curtezans note:

The hour of the Berjere. L'heure du berger ou l'amant trouve celle qu'il aime favorable a ses voeux. cf. La Fontaine, Contes. La Coupe Enchantee. 'Il y fait bon, l'heure du berger sonne.' It is a favourite expression of Mrs. Behn. cf. Sir Patient Fancy, Act I, i. 'From Ten to Twelve are the happy hours of the Bergere, those of intire enjoyment.' Also the charming conclusion of The Lover's Watch:—

Damon, my watch is just and new: And all a Lover ought to do, My Cupid faithfully will show. And ev'ry hour he renders there Except l'heure du Bergere.

p. 32 Ay and No Man. cf. Prologue to The False Count (Vol. III, p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).

False Count note:

By Yea and Nay. 'Yea and Nay' was often derisively applied to the Puritans, and hence to their lineal descendants the Whigs, in allusion to the Scriptural injunction, S. Matthew v, 33-7, which they feigned exactly to follow. Timothy Thin-beard, a rascally Puritan, in Heywood's If you Know Not Me, You Know Nobody, Part II (4to, 1606), is continually asseverating 'By yea and nay', cf. Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas, Act II, iii, where Thomas says:—

Do not ye see me alter'd? 'Yea and Nay,' gentlemen; A much-converted man.

* * * * * * * * *

Errors and Irregularities: Sir Patient Fancy

In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.

Editor's Introduction

but yet everything she touched [eveything]

Sir Patient Fancy

And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer [Tryannick] Ton d' apamibominous prosiphe podas ochus Achilleus [in standard transliteration: Ton d' apameibomenos prosephe podas okus Achilleus Each element ("Ton ... prosephe" and "podas okus Achilleus") is used several dozen times in the Iliad; the complete line occurs at least ten times.] a Lancashire Bag-pipe [anomalous hyphen in original] Wit. Nor to Chuch? [spelling unchanged] & Reparteee bien [spelling unchanged] and d'on on slip shoe: [text unchanged: compare Note on III.ix] Wit. At Sir Patient Fancy's, my Father-in-law. [? for .] for the use and comfort of Man [. missing] Sir Pat. How does my good, my dearest Lady Fancy? [speaker name not italicized] [Puts Sir Pat. back. / [Exit Wit. [bracket before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text] Enter Lady Fancy and Wittmore. ["and" non-Italic (emphatic)] Wit. Go, haste and ... [Exeunt Lod. and Sir Cred. [Exeuut]

Notes on Text

p. 10 Dramatis Personae. ... in the introduction [in the the] p. 13, l. 14 [p. 13 l. 14] p. 98, l. 16 [p. 98, l. 16.]

Critical Notes

p. 65 Madame Brenvilliers. [body text has "Madam"]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE AMOROUS PRINCE.

[Transcriber's Note:

Entrances and bracketed stage directions were printed in italics, with proper names in roman type. The overall italic markup has been omitted for readability.]



ARGUMENT.

Frederick, 'the Amorous Prince,' a mercurial young gallant, son to the Duke of Florence, under a solemn promise of marriage debauches Cloris, sister to his friend and confidant, Curtius. The girl has always led a secluded country life, and this relationship is unknown to the Prince, who upon hearing the praises of Laura, beloved by Curtius, straightway resolves to win this lady also. Laura's brother Lorenzo, a wanton madcap favourite of Frederick's, gladly effects the required introduction, and when Curtius interrupts and forbids, Salvator, father to Laura and Lorenzo, promptly turns the quondam lover out of the house. Lorenzo himself is idly pursuing Clarina, wife to a certain Antonio, an abortive intrigue carried on to his own impoverishment, but the enrichment of Isabella, Clarina's woman, a wench who fleeces him unmercifully. Antonio being of a quaint and jealous humour would have his friend Alberto make fervent love to Clarina, in order that by her refusals and chill denials her spotless conjugal fidelity may be proved. However, Ismena, Clarina's sister, appears in a change of clothes as the wife, and manifold complications ensue, but eventually all is cleared and Ismena accepts Alberto, whom she has long loved; not before Isabella, having by a trick compelled Lorenzo to declare himself her husband, enforces the bargain. Cloris, meanwhile, disguised as a boy under the name of Philibert, attaches herself to Frederick, first succouring him when he is wounded in a duel by Curtius. Curtius to avenge his wrongs disguises himself, and as a pandar entices Frederick into a snare by promises of supplying the amorous Prince with lovely cyprians. Bravos, however, are in waiting, but these prove to be in the service of Antonio, who appears with Alberto and their friends, completely frustrating the plot, whilst Clarina, Ismena, and other ladies have acted the courtezans to deceive Curtius, and at the same time read the Prince a salutary lesson. He profits so much by this experience that he takes Cloris, whose sex is discovered, to be his bride, whilst Laura bestows her hand on the repentant and forgiven Curtius.



SOURCE.

Mrs. Behn has taken her episode of Antonio's persuading Alberto to woo Clarina from Robert Davenport's fine play, The City Night-Cap (4to 1661, but licensed 24 October, 1624) where Lorenzo induces Philippo to test Abstemia in the same way. Astrea, however, has considerably altered the conduct of the intrigue. Bullen (The Works of Robert Davenport, 1890) conclusively and exhaustively demonstrates that Davenport made use of Greene's popular Philomela; the Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale (1592, 1615, and 1631), wherein Count Philippo employs Giovanni Lutesio to 'make experience of his wife's [Philomela's] honesty', rather than was under any obligation to Cervantes' Curioso Impertinente, Don Quixote, Book IV, ch. vi-viii. Read, Dunlop, and Hazlitt all had express'd the same opinion. The Spanish tale turns upon the fact of Anselmo, the Curious Impertinent, enforcing his friend Lothario to tempt his wife Camilla. Such a theme, however, is common, and with variations is to be found in Italian novelle. Recent authorities are inclined to suggest that the plot of Beaumont and Fletcher's The Coxcomb (1610), much of which runs on similar lines, is not founded on Cervantes. Southerne, in his comedy, The Disappointment; or, The Mother in Fashion (1684) and 'starch Johnny Crowne' in The Married Beau (1694), both comedies of no little wit and merit, are patently indebted to The Curious Impertinent. Cervantes had also been used three quarters of a century before by Nat Field in his Amends for Ladies (4to, 1618), where Sir John Loveall tries his wife in an exactly similar manner to Lorenzo, Count Philippo and Anselmo.

The amours of the Florentine court are Mrs. Behn's own invention; but the device by which Curtius ensnares Frederick is not unlike Vendice and Hippolito's trapping of the lecherous old Duke in The Revenger's Tragedy (4to, 1607), albeit the saturnine Tourneur gives the whole scene a far more terrible and tragic catastrophe.

In January, 1537, Lorenzino de Medici having enticed Duke Alessandro of Florence to his house under pretext of an assignation with a certain Caterina Ginori, after a terrible struggle assassinated him with the aid of a notorious bravo. Several plays have been founded upon this history. Notable amongst them are Shirley's admirable tragedy, The Traitor (licensed May, 1631, 4to 1635) and in later days de Musset's Lorenzaccio (1834).

The Mask in Act V of The Amorous Prince is in its purport most palpably akin to the Elizabethans.



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The Amorous Prince was produced by the Duke's Company in the spring of 1671 at their Lincoln's Inn Fields theatre, whence they migrated in November of the same year to the magnificent new house in Dorset Garden. No performers' names are given to the comedy, which met with a very good reception. It seems to have kept the boards awhile, but there is no record of any particular revival.



THE AMOROUS PRINCE.



PROLOGUE.

Well! you expect a _Prologue_ to the Play, And you expect it too Petition-way; With _Chapeau bas_ beseeching you t' excuse A damn'd Intrigue of an unpractis'd Muse; Tell you it's Fortune waits upon your Smiles, And when you frown, Lord, how you kill the whiles! Or else to rally up the Sins of th' Age, And bring each Fop in Town upon the Stage; And in one Prologue run more Vices o'er, Than either Court or City knew before: Ah! that's a Wonder which will please you too, But my Commission's not to please you now. First then for you grave _Dons_, who love no Play But what is regular, Great _Johnson's_ way; Who hate the _Monsieur_ with the Farce and Droll, But are for things well said with Spirit and Soul; 'Tis you I mean, whose Judgments will admit No Interludes of fooling with your Wit; You're here defeated, and anon will cry, 'Sdeath! wou'd 'twere Treason to write Comedy. So! there's a Party lost; now for the rest, Who swear they'd rather hear a smutty Jest Spoken by _Nokes_ or _Angel_, than a Scene Of the admir'd and well penn'd _Cataline_; Who love the comick Hat, the Jig and Dance, Things that are fitted to their Ignorance: You too are quite undone, for here's no Farce Damn me! you'll cry, this Play will be mine A—— Not serious, nor yet comick, what is't then? Th' imperfect issue of a lukewarm Brain: 'Twas born before its time, and such a Whelp; As all the after-lickings could not help. Bait it then as ye please, we'll not defend it, But he that dis-approves it, let him mend it._



DRAMATIS PERSONAE

MEN.

Frederick, Son to the Duke. Curtius, his Friend. Lorenzo, a rich extravagant Lord, a kind of Favourite to Frederick. Salvator, Father to Lorenzo and Laura. Antonio, a Nobleman of Florence. Alberto, his dear Friend, a Nobleman also. Pietro, Man to Curtius. Galliard, Servant to the Prince. Guilliam, Man to Cloris, a Country-fellow. Valet to Antonio.

WOMEN.

Clarina, Wife to Antonio. Ismena, Sister to Antonio, in love with Alberto. Laura, Sister to Lorenzo, in love with Curtius. Cloris, Sister to Curtius, disguis'd like a Country Maid, in love with Frederick. Isabella, Woman to Clarina. Lucia, Maid to Cloris. Pages and Musick.

SCENE, The Court of Florence.



ACT I.

SCENE I. The Chamber of Cloris.

Enter Cloris drest in her Night Attire, with Frederick dressing himself.

Clo. And will you leave me now to Fears, Which Love it self can hardly satisfy? But those, and that together sure will kill me, If you stay long away.

Fred. My Dear, 'tis almost day, and we must part; Should those rude Eyes 'mongst whom thou dwell'st perceive us, 'Twould prove unhappy both to thee and me.

Clo. And will you, Sir, be constant to your Vows?

Fred. Ah Cloris! do not question what I've sworn; If thou would'st have it once again repeated, I'll do't. By all that's good, I'll marry thee; By that most Holy Altar, before which we kneel'd, When first I saw the brightest Saint that e'er ador'd it; I'll marry none but thee, my dearest Cloris.

Clo. Sir, you have said enough to gain a credit With any Maid, though she had been deceiv'd By some such Flatteries as these before. I never knew the pains of Fear till now; [Sighs. And you must needs forgive the Faults you make, For had I still remain'd in Innocence, I should have still believ'd you.

Fred. Why, dost thou not, my Love?

Clo. Some doubts I have, but when I look on you, Though I must blush to do so, they all vanish; But I provide against your absence, Sir.

Fred. Make no provision, Cloris, but of Hope, Prepare thy self against a Wedding day, When thou shalt be a little Deity on Earth.

Clo. I know not what it is to dwell in Courts, But sure it must be fine, since you are there; Yet I could wish you were an humble Shepherd, And knew no other Palace than this Cottage; Where I would weave you Crowns, of Pinks and Daisies, And you should be a Monarch every May.

Fred. And, Cloris, I could be content to sit With thee, upon some shady River's Bank, To hear thee sing, and tell a Tale of Love. For these, alas! I could do any thing; A Sheep-hook I could prize above a Sword; An Army I would quit to lead a Flock, And more esteem that Chaplet wreath'd by thee, Than the victorious Bays: All this I could, but, Dear, I have a Father, Whom for thy sake, to make thee great and glorious, I would not lose my Int'rest with. But, Cloris, see, the unkind day approaches, And we must kiss and part.

Clo. Unkind it is indeed, may it prove so To all that wish its presence, And pass as soon away, That welcome Night may re-assume its place, And bring you quickly back.

Fred. With great impatience I'll expect that Hour, That shall conduct me in its Shades to thee; Farewel.

Clo. Farewel, Sir, if you must be gone. [Sighs.

Fred. One Kiss, and then indeed I will be gone. [Kisses her. A new blown Rose kist by the Morning Dew, Has not more natural Sweetness. Ah Cloris! can you doubt that Heart, To whom such Blessings you impart? Unjustly you suspect that Prize, Won by such Touches and such Eyes. My Fairest, turn that Face away, Unless I could for ever stay; Turn but a little while I go.

Clo. Sir, I must see the last of you.

Fred. I dare not disobey; adieu till Evening. [Exit.

Enter Lucia.

Clo. How now, Lucia; is my Father up?

Luc. No, not a Mouse stirs yet; I have kept a true Watch all this Night, for I was cruelly afraid Lest we should have been surpriz'd— Is the Prince gone? but why do I ask, That may read it in your sad Looks?

Clo. Yes, he is gone, and with him too has taken— [Sighs.

Luc. What has he taken? I'll swear you frighten me.

Clo. My heart, Lucia.

Luc. Your Heart, I am glad 'tis no worse.

Clo. Why, what dost think he should have taken?

Luc. A thing more hard to have been Recovered again.

Clo. What thing, prithee?

Luc. Your Maiden-head.

Clo. What's that?

Luc. A thing young Gallants long extremely for, And when they have it too, they say They care not a Daisy for the Giver.

Clo. How comest thou so wise, Lucia?

Luc. Oh, the fine Gentleman that comes a-nights With the Prince, told me so much, and bid me Be sure never to part with it for fine Words; For Men would lye as often as they swore; And so bid me tell you too.

Clo. Oh Lucia!

Luc. Why do you sigh?

Clo. To think if Princes were like common Men, How I should be undone, Since I have given him all I had to give; And who that looks on him can blame my Faith?

Luc. Indeed he surpasses Damon far; But I'ad forgot my self, you are the Prince's Wife; He said you should be kneel'd to, and ador'd, And never look'd on but on Holy-days: That many Maids should wait upon your call, And strow fine Flowers for you to tread upon. Musick and Love should daily fill your Ears, And all your other Senses should be ravish'd With wonders of each kind great as your Beauty.

Clo. Lucia, methinks you have learnt to speak fine things.

Luc. I have a thousand more I've heard him say; Oh, I could listen a whole Night to hear him talk: But hark, I hear a Noise, the House is up, And must not find us here.

Clo. Lock up this Box of Jewels for me.

Luc. Oh rare! what, did these come to night?

Clo. Yes, yes, away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Grove.

Enter Curtius and Pietro.

Cur. I wonder the Prince stays so long; I do not like these Night-works; Were I not confident of Cloris's Virtue, —Which shall no more be tempted. I hear some coming, and hope 'tis he— Pietro, are the Horses ready? [Exit Pietro.

Enter Frederick.

Cur. Sir, you are welcome from Cloris's Arms.

Fred. With much ado, I am got loose from those fair Fetters, but not from those of her Beauty; By these she still inflames me, In spite of all my humours of Inconstancy; So soft and young, so fair and innocent, So full of Air, and yet of Languishment; So much of Nature in her Heart and Eyes, So timorous and so kind without disguise: Such untaught Sweets in every part do move, As 'gainst my Reason does compel my Love; Such artless smiles, look so unorder'd too, Gains more than all the charms of Courts can do; From Head to Foot, a spotless Statue seems, As Art, not Nature, had compos'd her Limbs; So white, and so unblemish'd, oh Curtius! I'm ravisht beyond Sense when I but think on't; How much more must my Surprize be, When I behold these Wonders.

Cur. And have you seen her, Sir, in all this Beauty? Oh Hell! [Aside.

Fred. Curtius, I will not hide my Soul from thee; I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.

Cur. My Soul, learn now the Art of being disguis'd; [Aside. —'Tis much, my Lord, that one Bred in such simple Innocence, Should learn so soon so much of Confidence: Pray, Sir, what Arts and Cunning do you use?

Fred. Faith, time and importunity refuse no body.

Cur. Is that the way? had you no other Aids? Made you no promise to her, Sir, of Marriage?

Fred. Oh, yes, in abundance, that's your only bait, And though they cannot hope we will perform it, Yet it secures their Honour and my Pleasure.

Cur. Then, Sir, you have enjoy'd her?

Fred. Oh, yes, and gather'd Sweets Would make an Anchoret neglect his Vow, And think he had mistook his way to future bliss, Which only can be found in such Embraces; 'Twas hard to gain, but, Curtius, when once Victor, Oh, how the joys of Conquest did enslave me!

Cur. But, Sir, methinks 'tis much that she should yield, With only a bare promise that you'd marry her.

Fred. Yes, there was something more—but—

Cur. But, what, Sir, you are not married.

Fred. Faith, yes, I've made a Vow, And that you know would go as far with any other Man.

Cur. But she it seems forgot you were the Prince?

Fred. No, she urg'd that too, And left no Arguments unus'd Might make me sensible of what I did; But I was fixt, and overcame them all, Repeating still my Vows and Passions for her, Till in the presence of her Maid and Heaven We solemnly contracted.

Cur. But, Sir, by your permission, was it well?

Fred. What wouldst thou have him do That's all on fire, and dies for an Enjoyment?

Cur. But having gain'd it, do you love her still?

Fred. Yes, yes, extremely, And would be constant to the Vows I've made, Were I a Man, as thou art of thy self; But with the aid of Counsels I must chuse, And what my Soul adores I must refuse.

Cur. This Passion, Sir, Possession will destroy, And you'l love less, the more you do enjoy.

Fred. That's all my hope of cure; I'll ply that game, And slacken by degrees th' unworthy flame.

Cur. Methinks, my Lord, it had more generous been To've check'd that flame when first it did begin, E'er you the slighted Victory had won, And a poor harmless Virgin quite undone: And what is worse, you've made her love you too.

Fred. Faith, that's the greater mischief of the two; I know to such nice virtuous Souls as thine, My juster Inclination is a Crime: But I love Pleasures which thou canst not prize, Beyond dull gazing on thy Mistress Eyes, The lovely Object which enslaves my Heart, Must yet more certain Cures than Smiles impart: —And you on Laura have the same design.

Cur. Yes, Sir, when justify'd by Laws Divine.

Fred. Divine! a pleasant Warrant for your Sin, Which being not made, we ne'er had guilty been. But now we speak of Laura, Prithee, when is't that I shall see that Beauty?

Cur. Never, I hope. [Aside.] I know not, Sir, Her Father still is cruel, and denies me, What she and I have long made suit in vain for: But, Sir, your Interest might prevail with him, When he shall know I'm one whom you esteem; He will allow my flame, and my address, He whom you favour cannot doubt Success.

Fred. This day I will begin to serve thee in it.

Cur. Sir, 'twill be difficult to get access to her, Her Father is an humorous old Man, And has his fits of Pride and Kindness too.

Fred. Well, after Dinner I will try my Power, And will not quit his Lodgings till I've won him.

Cur. I humbly thank you, Sir.

Fred. Come let us haste, the Day comes on apace. [Ex. Fred.

Cur. I'll wait upon you, Sir. Oh Cloris, thou'rt undone, false amorous Girl; Was it for this I bred thee in obscurity, Without permitting thee to know what Courts meant, Lest their too powerful Temptation Might have betray'd thy Soul? Not suffering thee to know thy Name or Parents, Thinking an humble Life might have secur'd thy Virtue: And yet I should not hate thee for this Sin, Since thou art bred in so much Innocence, Thou couldst not dream of Falsity in Men: Oh, that it were permitted me to kill this Prince, This false perfidious Prince; And yet he knows not that he has abus'd me. When did I know a Man of so much Virtue, That would refuse so sweet and soft a Maid? —No, he is just and good, only too much misled By Youth and Flattery; And one to whom my Soul is ty'd by Friendship; —Yet what's a Friend, a name above a Sister? Is not her Honour mine? And shall not I revenge the loss of it? It is but common Justice. But first I'll try all gentle means I may, And let him know that Cloris is my Sister; And if he then persevere in his Crime, I'll lay my Interest and my Duty by, And punish him, or with my Honour die. [Exit.

SCENE III. The Apartment of Antonio.

Enter Lorenzo pulling in of Isabella.

Lor. Nay, nay, Isabella, there's no avoiding me now, You and I must come to a parley. Pray what's the reason You took no notice of me, When I came with so civil an address too?

Isab. Can you ever think to thrive in an Amour, When you take notice of your Mistress, Or any that belongs to her, in publick, And when she's a married Woman too?

Lor. Good Isabella, the loser may have leave to speak, I am sure it has been a plaguy dear Amour to me.

Isab. Let me hear you name that again, And you shall miss of my Assistance.

Lor. Nay, do but hear me a little; I vow 'tis the strangest thing in the World, A Man must part from so much Money as I have done, And be confin'd to Signs and Grimaces only, To declare his Mind in: If a Man has a Tongue, let him exercise it, I say, As long as he pays for speaking.

Isab. Again with your paying for't? I see you are not To be reclaim'd; farewel—

Lor. Stay, good Isabella, stay, And thou shalt hear not one word of that more, Though I am soundly urg'd to't.

Isab. Yes, yes, pray count them, do; I know you long to be at it, And I am sure you will find you are in Arrears to us.

Lor. Say you so, I am not of that opinion: but well, —Let me see—here 'tis, here 'tis— My Bill of Charge for courting Clarina. [Draws out his Table Book, and reads.

Isab. And here's mine for the returns that have been Made you; begin, begin. [Pulls out her Book.

Lor. Item, two hundred Crowns to Isabella for undertaking.

Isab. Item, I have promis'd Lorenzo to serve him In his Amour with all Fidelity.

Lor. Well, I own that Debt paid, if you keep Your word—out with it then— [He crosses that out. Item, two thousand Crowns in a Bracelet for Clarina; What say you to that now, Isabella?

Isab. Item, the day after they were presented, She saluted you with a smile at the Chappel.

Lor. And dost thou think it was not dearly bought?

Isab. No Man in Florence should have had it A Souce cheaper.

Lor. Say you so, Isabella? out with it then. [Crosses it out. Item, one hundred more to thee for presenting them.

Isab. Which I did with six lyes in your Commendation, Worth ten Pistoles a piece for the exactness of a Lye; Write there indebted to me—

Lor. Nay then thou dost deserve it: Rest due to Isabella. [Writes. Item, Innumerable Serenades, Night-walks, Affronts And Fears; and lastly, to the Poets for Songs, and the like.

Isab. All which was recompensed in the excessive Laughing on you that Day you praunc'd under our Window on Horse-back, when you made such a Deal of Capriol and Curvet.

Lor. Yes, where I ventur'd my Neck to shew my Activity, and therefore may be well accompted Amongst my Losses.

Isab. Then she receiv'd your Presents, Suffer'd your Serenades, without sending her Foot-men To break your Pate with the Fiddles.

Lor. Indeed that was one of the best Signs; For I have been a great Sufferer in that kind Upon the like occasions: but dost thou think In Conscience that this should satisfy?

Isab. Yes, any reasonable Man in the World, for the First Month at least; and yet you are still up With your Expences, as if a Lady of her Quality Were to be gain'd without them. —Let me hear of your Expences more, and I'll—

Lor. Oh sweet Isabella! upon my Knees I beg thou wilt take no fatal Resolution; For I protest, as I am a Man of Honour, And adore thy Sex, thou shalt only see, Not hear of my Expences more; And for a small testimony of it, here take this; There's twenty Pistoles upon Reputation. [Gives her Money.

Isab. Fy, fy, 'tis not brave, nor generous to name The Sum, you should have slid it into my Coat, Without saying what you had done.

Lor. What signifies that, mun, as long as 'tis current, And you have it sure?

Isab. Well, leave the management of your Affairs to me— What shall we do? here's Alberto.

Enter Alberto.

Lor. Well, who can help it? I cannot walk invisible.

Alb. Lorenzo, what, making Love to Isabella?

Lor. She'l serve, my Lord, for want of a better.

Isab. That's but a coarse Complement.

Lor. 'Twill serve to disguise a Truth however. [Aside to her. [Ex. Isab. Faith, I'll tell you, Sir, 'twas such another Damsel As this, that sav'd me five hundred Pound once upon a time; And I have lov'd the whole Tribe of Waiting-women The better ever since.

Alb. You have reason; how was it?

Lor. Why, look you, Sir, I had made Love a long time to a Lady; But she shall be nameless, Since she was of a quality not to be gain'd under The aforesaid Sum: well, I brought it, Came pouder'd and perfum'd, and high in expectation.

Alb. Well, Sir.

Lor. And she had a very pretty Wench, who was to Conduct me, and in the dark too; And, on my Conscience, I e'en fell aboard of her, And was as well accommodated for my five, As five Hundred Pounds, and so return'd.

Alb. A great defeat to the Lady the while, a my word.

Lor. Ay, she smelt the Plot, and made a Vow to follow The Italian mode for the future; And be serv'd in Affairs of that kind by none But an old Woman.

Alb. 'Twas wittily resolv'd.

Lor. Are you for the Presence this Morning?

Alb. No, I have business here with Antonio.

Lor. Your Servant, my Lord. [Exit.

Alb. I do not like this Fellow's being here, The most notorious Pimp and Rascal in Italy; 'Tis a vile shame that such as he should live, Who have the form and sense of Man about them, And in their Action Beast; And that he thrives by too.

Enter Isabella.

—Isabella, is Antonio stirring?

Isab. He is, please your Lordship to walk in.

Alb. You may tell him I wait here: For I would avoid all opportunity of seeing Clarina. [Aside.

Isab. My Lord, you need not stand upon Ceremonies. [Exit Alberto.

Enter Clarina and Ismena, dress'd like one another in every thing, laughing and beholding one another.

—Dress'd already! now on my conscience I know not which is which: Pray God Antonio be not mistaken at night, For I'll be sworn I am by day-light.

Ism. Dost think I may pass thus for Clarina?

Isab. Madam, you are the same to a hair; Wou'd I might never stir If I can do any thing but wonder.

Clar. But hark, Isabella, if thou shou'dst have Heard amiss, and that thy information should not be good, Thou hast defeated us of a design, Wherein we promise our selves no little pleasure.

Ism. Yes, I vow, all the Jest is lost if it be so.

Isab. I doubt 'twill be a true Jest on your side. [Aside. —I warrant you, Madam, my Intelligence is good; And to assure you of what I have said, I dare undertake you shall hear the same over again: For just now Alberto is come to visit my Lord, Who I am sure will entertain him with no other stories, But those of his Jealousy, And to persuade him to court you.

Clar. 'Tis strange, since he set him that Task so long ago, He would not begin before.

Ism. Nay, pray God he begin now; Sister, he has hitherto took me for thee, And sometimes his Eyes give me hope of a secret Fire within, but 'twill not out; And I am so impatient till he declares himself, That if he do not do it soon, I shall e'en tell him who I am; For perhaps the Wife takes off the appetite, Which would sharpen upon knowledge of the Virgin.

Clar. What then, you'll have all the sport to your self? —But, Ismena, remember my little Revenge on Antonio Must accompany your Love to Alberto. [Aside.

Isab. But why this resemblance? For, Madam, since he never saw you, And takes Ismena to be you; Might you not still pass so, without this likeness?

Clar. Didst thou not say Antonio left the Court And City, on purpose to give Alberto the more freedom To Court me?—Whilst he was away, I needed but retire, And Ismena appear, and 'twould suffice; But now he is return'd, He may chance to see them together, en passant, or so, And this dress will abuse him as well as Alberto; For without that, this Plot of ours signifies little.

Ism. Ay, truly, for my part, I have no other design Than doing my Sister a service.

Isab. The Plot is very likely to thrive I see, Since you are so good at dissembling.

Ism. Fie, Isabella, what an ill opinion you have of me? —But, Sister, 'tis much Alberto being so intimate With Antonio, should never see you all this whole Six Months of your being married.

Clar. Had you been bred any where But in a Monastery, you would have known 'Tis not the custom here for Men to expose their Wives to the view of any.

Isab. I hear them coming, let's away, And pray listen to the Truths I have already told you. [They retire.

SCENE IV. The Same.

Enter Antonio and Alberto. Clarina and Ismena listen.

Alb. Once more, Antonio, welcome back to Court.

Ant. Oh my dear Friend, I long'd for thy Embraces; —How goes the Game I left with thee to play? What says my Wife, my beautiful Clarina?

Alb. Clarina!—

Ant. Yes, Clarina, have you not seen her yet? I left the Court on purpose, for 'twas not handsome For me to introduce you, Lest she had look'd upon't as some design.

Alb. Seen her—yes—

Ant. And I conjur'd her too, to give you freedoms Even equal to Antonio; As far as I durst press with modesty, And with pretence of Friendship; And have you not attempted her?

Alb. Yes—but 'tis in vain.

Ant. Oh villanous Dissembler! [Aside.

Alb. She's cruel, strangely cruel, And I'm resolv'd to give the Courtship o'er.

Ant. Sure, Friend, thou hast not us'd thy wonted power.

Alb. Yes, all that I know I'm master of, I us'd.

Ant. But didst thou urge it home? did she not see Thy Words and Actions did not well agree? Canst thou dissemble well? didst cry and melt, As if the pain you but express'd, you felt? Didst kneel, and swear, and urge thy Quality, Heightning it too with some Disgrace on me? And didst thou too assail her feeble side? For the best bait to Woman is her Pride; Which some mis-call her Guard: Didst thou present her with the set of Jewels? For Women naturally are more inclin'd To Avarice, than Men: pray tell me, Friend. —Vile Woman! did she take them—

Alb. I never ask'd her that.

Clar. Poor Antonio, how I pity him. [Aside.

Ant. No!

Alb. No, I've done enough to satisfy thy Jealousy. Here, take your set of Jewels back again; [Gives a Box. Upon my Life Clarina is all Chastity.

Ant. I were the happiest Man on Earth, were this but true; But what are single Courtships?—give her these, Which will assist thy Tongue to win her Heart; And that once got, the other soon will follow; There's far more Women won by Gold than Industry: Try that, my dear Alberto, And save thy Eyes the trouble of dissembling.

Alb. Content thee here, and do not tempt thy Fate, I have regard unto thy Honour, Friend; And should she yield, as Women are no Gods, Where were thy future Joys? What is't could make thee happy, or restore That true Contentment which thou hadst before? Alas! thou tempt'st me too, for I am frail, And Love above my Friendship may prevail.

Ant. This will not do; No, as thou art my Friend, and lov'st my Honour, Pursue Clarina further; Rally afresh, and charge her with this Present, Disturb her every night with Serenades; Make Love-Songs to her, and then sing them too; Thou hast a Voice enough alone to conquer.

Alb. Fool, Antonio! [Aside.

Ant. Come, wilt thou undertake it once again?

Alb. I would not.

Ant. I am resolv'd to get this tryal made, And if thou dost refuse thy Amity, I'll try a Friend more willing, though less faithful; With thee my Wife and Honour too are safe, For should she yield, and I by that were lost, 'Twere yet some ease, That none but thou wert witness to't.

Alb. Well, if it must be done, I'ad rather do't, Than you should be expos'd to th' scorn of others.

Ant. Spoke like my noble Friend; Come dine with her to day, for I must leave you, And give you all the opportunity A real Lover wishes with a Mistress.

Ism. So we have heard enough.

[Ex. Clar. and Ism.

Ant. Oh, were Clarina chaste, as on my Soul I cannot doubt, more than that I believe All Womankind may be seduc'd from Virtue; I were the Man of all the World most bless'd In such a Wife, and such a Friend as thou.

Alb. But what if I prevail, Antonio?

Ant. Then I'll renounce my faith in Womankind, And place my satisfaction in thy Amity. —But see, she comes, I'll leave you to your task.

Enter Ismena and Isabella.

Ism. Antonio not yet gone— This must secure me. [Pulls down her Veil.

Ant. Clarina, why thus clouded?

Isab. I see he has most happily mistaken.

Ism. I was going, Sir, to visit Laura—

Ant. You must not go, I've business to the Duke, And you must entertain my Friend till my return; It is a freedom not usual here amongst Ladies, But I will have it so; Whom I esteem, I'll have you do so too.

Ism. Sir, I am all obedience. [Exit Antonio, she pulls off her Veil; Alberto salutes her with seeming lowness.

Alb. Oh, how my Soul's divided Between my Adoration and my Amity! [Aside. Friendship, thou sacred band, hold fast thy Interest; For yonder Beauty has a subtle power, And can undo that knot, which other Arts Could ne'er invent a way for.

Enter Antonio, and listens at the Door.

Ant. I'll see a little how he behaves himself. [Aside.

Alb. But she's Antonio's Wife; my Friend Antonio. [Aside. A Youth that made an Interest in my Soul, When I had Language scarce to express my sense of it.

Ant. Death! he speaks not to her. [Aside.

Alb. So grew we up to Man, and still more fixt; And shall a gaudy Beauty, A thing which t'other day I never saw, Deprive my Heart of that kind Heat, And place a new and unknown Fire within? [Aside. Clarina, 'tis unjust.

Ism. Sir, did you speak to me?

Alb. I have betray'd my self— [Aside. Madam, I was saying how unjust it was Antonio should leave me alone with a Lady, Being certainly the worst to entertain them in the World.

Ant. His Face assures me he speaks of no Love to her now.

Ism. Alas, he speaks not to me. Sure Isabella was mistaken, who told me that he lov'd me. —Alberto, if thou art oblig'd to me, [Aside. For what I have not yet observ'd in thee, Oh, do not say my Heart was easily won, But blame your Eyes, whose forces none can shun.

Ant. Not a word, what can he mean by this?

Ism. Sir, will you please to sit a while?

Isab. Madam, the inner Chamber is much better, For there he may repose upon the Cushions Till my Lord's return; I see he is not well— —And you are both sick of one Disease. [Aside.

Alb. I thank you, here's more Air, —And that I need, for I am all on fire, [Aside. And every Look adds fuel to my flame. —I must avoid those Eyes, whose Light misguides me: —Madam, I have some business calls me hence, And cannot wait my Friend's return.

Ism. Antonio, Sir, will think 'tis my neglect That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer.

Alb. You shall command me, if you can dispense With so dull Company.

Ism. I can with any thing Antonio loves.

Alb. Madam, it is a Virtue that becomes you; For though your Husband should not merit this, Your Goodness is not less to be admir'd; But he's a Man so truly worth your Kindness, That 'twere a Sin to doubt Your Passion for him were not justly paid.

Ism. Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks That my opinion of him equals yours; 'Tis plain he loves me not; [Aside. Perhaps his Virtue, thinking me Clarina, May hide the real Passion of his Soul. Oh Love, what dangerous Paths thou mak'st us tread!

Ant. Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhuman Friendship! [Aside.

Alb. What shall I do next? I must either be rude, And say nothing, or speak of Love to her; And then, my Friend, thou'rt lost should I prevail, And I'm undone should she not hear my Tale, Which for the World I would not have her hear; And yet I fear my Eyes too much declare.

Ism. Since he's in so ill an Humour, let's leave him, I'm satisfy'd now that thou'rt mistaken. [Ex. Ismena and Isabella unseen.

Alb. But they shall gaze no more on hers, Nor stray beyond the limits of a just Salute. —I will my Honour to my Love prefer, And my Antonio shall out-rival her. [Looks about, and misses them. —Ah, am I left alone! how frail is Man! That which last Moment I resolv'd upon, I find my Heart already disapprove, And grieve her loss; can this be ought but Love? My Soul's dissatisfy'd now she is gone, And yet but now I wish'd to be alone. —Inform me, Love, who shares the better part, Friendship, or thee, in my divided Heart. [Offers to go.

Enter Antonio, and stays him.

Ant. Whither in such haste? Thou look'st e'en as sad as a Lover repuls'd, I fear that Fate's not thine.

Alb. Now for a lye to satisfy him. [Aside. Prithee discharge me of this toil of dissembling, Of which I grow as weary as she's of hearing it.

Ant. Indeed!

Alb. Sure thou hast a design to make her hate me.

Ant. Do you think so in earnest, why, was she angry?

Alb. Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing Scorn, Which she would fain have hid, Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer.

Ant. Is't possible! And didst present her with the Box of Jewels?

Alb. Yes.

Ant. And kneel, and cry and swear, and—

Alb. All, all.

Ant. I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship, —But you are sure she was displeased with it?

Alb. Extremely.

Ant. Enough, Alberto; adieu to thee and Friendship.

Alb. What mean you?

Ant. Ask your own Guilt, it will inform thee best.

Alb. Thou canst not think Clarina has abus'd thee.

Ant. I do not think she has, nor have you try'd her; In that you have not only disoblig'd me, But now you would impose upon my Weakness —Did I not see how unconcern'd you were, And hardly paying her a due respect; And when she even invited thee to speak, Most rudely thou wert silent?

Alb. Be calm, Antonio, I confess my error, And hate that Virtue taught me to deceive thee; —Here, take my Hand,— I'll serve you in good earnest.

Ant. And now I do believe thee, Go—thou shalt lose no time, I must away, My Soul's in torment, till I am confirm'd Of my Clarina's Virtue; I do believe thou hast a generous Shame, For what thou'st said and done to me thy Friend. For could I doubt thy Love, oh, how ridiculous This act of mine would seem! But 'tis to thee, as to my Soul I come, Disputing every petty Crime and Doubt.

Alb. Antonio, if there need an Oath between us—

Ant. No, I credit thee; go in, And prithee dress thy Eyes in all their Charms; For this uncertainty disturbs me more, Than if I knew Clarina were a—Whore.

[Exeunt severally.



ACT II.

SCENE I. The Apartment of Frederick.

Enter Frederick with a Letter, and Galliard.

Fred. Not allow me to speak to her, say ye, 'tis strange; Didst say it was the Prince that sent thee?

Gal. My Lord, I did, but he says, he cares not for A thousand Princes.

Fred. I am resolv'd I will see this Woman; —Harkye, go back again and say— [Whispers.

Enter Lorenzo drunk.

Lor. Hah, the Prince—he must not see me In this pickle; for I would not lose my Reputation Of Wenching for this of Drinking; And I am sure I cannot be excellent at both, They are inconsistent.

Gal. I shall, my Lord. [Exit.

Lor. Your Highness's humble Servant.

Fred. Ha, ha, what, Lorenzo in debauch?

Lor. Now my Tongue will betray me:— Faith, my Lord, I have took six, but am come briskly off; By this hand, my Lord, I am Cock over five Stout Rogues too, I can tell you, at this sport.

Fred. I did not think thou hadst had that Virtue.

Lor. I'll tell you, Sir, 'tis necessary those of my Office and Quality should have more Virtues Than one to recommend them; But to tell you truth, for now I am most apt for that, I was drunk in mere Malice to day.

Fred. Malice, against whom, prithee?

Lor. Why, why, Sir, the humorous old Fellow, My Father, He will not hear reason from me when I am sober. My Lord, you know Curtius is an honest Fellow, And one of us too; My Sister Laura is a good pretty Wench, He loves her, and she likes him; And because this testy old Blade has done himself, Do you think I can bring him to consider? No, not for my Life, he won't consider, Sir; And now am I got drunk to see how that will edify him.

Fred. How! is Laura, the Mistress of Curtius, your Sister?

Lor. Yes, marry is she, Sir, at least by the Mother's side; And to tell you truth, We are too good-natur'd to believe Salvator our Father.

Fred. Thy Sister, and Daughter to Salvator?

Lor. So said my Mother, but she was handsome; And on my conscience liv'd e'en in such another Debauch'd World as 'tis now, let them say What they will of their primitive Virtue.

Fred. May not I see this Sister of thine, Lorenzo?

Lor. Yes, by Venus, shall you, Sir, An she were my Mother.

Fred. But art sure thy Father will permit us?

Lor. My Father permit us! He may do what he will when I am sober, But being thus fortify'd with potent Wine, He must yield obedience to my Will. Why, my Lord, I'll tell you, I'll make him ask me blessing when I am in this Almighty Power.

Fred. And is thy Sister so very fine?

Lor. The Girl is well, and if she were not my Sister, I would give you a more certain Proof of my Opinion of her; She has excellent good Hair, fine Teeth, And good Hands, and the best natur'd Fool— Come, come, Sir, I'll bring you to her, And then I'll leave you; For I have a small Affair of Love to dispatch.

Fred. This is a freedom that sutes not with the Humour of an Italian.

Lor. No, faith, my Lord; I believe my Mother play'd Foul play with some Englishman; I am so willing to do you a good office to my Sister. And if by her Humour you become of that opinion too, I shall hope to render myself more acceptable To you by that Franchise.

Enter Galliard, whispers.

Fred. Thou knowest my grateful Temper, —No matter; here, carry this Letter to Cloris, And make some excuse for my not coming this Evening. [Gives him a Letter, and goes out with Lorenzo.

Gal. So, poor Lass, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not Lay'd by now, and Laura must succeed her: Well, even Frederick, I see, is but a Man, But his Youth and Quality will excuse him; And 'twill be call'd Gallantry in him, When in one of us, 'tis Ill-nature and Inconstancy. [Exit.

SCENE II. Antonio's House.

Enter Ismena and Isabella.

Isab. Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it; Do you think I have liv'd to these years, And cannot interpret cross Arms, imperfect Replies, Your sudden Weepings, your often Sighing, Your melancholy Walks, and making Verses too? And yet I must not say that this is Love.

Ism. Art thou so notable a Judge of it?

Isab. I should be, or I am a very dull Scholar, For I have lost the foolish Boy as many Darts, As any Woman of my age in Florence.

Ism. Thou hast paid dear for thy knowledge then.

Isab. No, the hurt ones did, the other still made good, with very little Pain on either side.

Ism. I must confess, I think it is not so hard to get Wounds, as 'tis to get them cur'd again.

Isab. I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that Man who had not Faults to Cure, As well as Charms to kill.

Ism. Since thou'rt so good a Judge of Men, Prithee tell me how thou lik'st Alberto.

Isab. I knew 'twould come to this— [Aside. Why, well, Madam.

Ism. No more than so?

Isab. Yes, wondrous well, since I am sure he loves you, And that indeed raises a Man's Value.

Ism. Thou art deceiv'd, I do not think he loves me.

Isab. Madam, you cannot but see a thousand Marks on't.

Ism. Thou hast more Skill than I; But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?

Isab. Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for Clarina, 'Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love? But when he knows Ismena is the Object, He'll tire you with the wish'd for story.

Ism. Ah, thou art a pleasing Flatterer.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, Alberto is without.

Ism. Tell him I'm indispos'd, and cannot see him now.

Isab. Nay, good Madam, see him now by all means, For I am sure my Lord Antonio is absent on purpose. —Bid him come in, Boy. [Exit Page.

Enter Alberto.

Ism. Antonio, Sir, is not return'd.

Alb. Madam, this Visit was not meant to him, But by a Cause more pressing I am brought, Such as my Passion, not My Friendship taught; A Passion which my Sighs have only shewn, And now beg leave my bashful Tongue may own. The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise, Which you have gain'd already from mine Eyes; My timorous Heart that way my Tongue would spare, And tells you of the Flames you've kindled there: 'Tis long I've suffered under this Constraint, Have always suffer'd, but ne'er made Complaint; And now against my will I must reveal What Love and my Respect would fain conceal.

Ism. What mean you, Sir? what have you seen in me, That should encourage this temerity?

Alb. A world of Beauties, and a world of Charms, And every Smile and Frown begets new harms; In vain I strove my Passion to subdue, Which still increas'd the more I look'd on you; Nor will my Heart permit me to retire, But makes my Eyes the convoys to my Fire, And not one Glance you send is cast away.

Ism. Enough, my Lord, have you nought else to say? The Plot's betray'd, and can no further go; [Smiles. The Stratagem's discover'd to the Foe; I find Antonio has more Love than Wit, And I'll endeavour too to merit it.

Alb. What you have said, I do confess is true, Antonio beg'd I would make love to you; But, Madam, whilst my heart was unconfin'd, A thousand ways the Treachery I declin'd— But now, Clarina, by my Life I swear, It is my own concern that brings me here: Had he been just to you, I had suppress'd The Flames your Eyes have kindled in my Breast; But his Suspicion rais'd my Passion more, And his Injustice taught me to adore: But 'tis a Passion which you may allow, Since its effects shall never injure you.

Ism. You have oblig'd me, Sir, by your Confession, And I shall own it too at such a rate, As both becomes my Duty to Antonio, And my Respect to you; but I must beg You'll never name your Passion to me more, That guilty Language, Sir, I must not hear: —And yet your silence kills me. [Aside.

Isab. Very well dissembled. [Aside.

Alb. I can obey you, Madam, though I cannot live, Whilst you command me silence; For 'tis a Flame that dares not look abroad To seek for pity from another's Eyes.

Ism. How he moves me! if this were real now, Or that he knew to whom he made this Courtship— [Aside.

Alb. Oh, do not turn away as if displeas'd.

Ism. No more, you've discompos'd my thoughts; Be gone, and never let me see thy Face again.

Alb. Madam, I go, and will no more offend you, —But I will look my last—farewel. [Offers to go.

Isab. Pray, Madam, call him back, he may be desperate. —My Lord, return—

Ism. Alberto, tell me what you'd have me do.

Alb. Ah, Madam, do not put me to my choice, For Lovers are unreasonable; If I might name it, I would have you love me.

Ism. Love you, and what would be the end of that?

Alb. I cannot tell, but wish you were inclin'd To make a tryal, Madam; I have no thought or wish beyond that Blessing, And that once gain'd, sure I should ask no more.

Ism. Were I inclin'd to this, have you consider'd The fatal Consequences which attend The breach of Vows and Friendship?

Alb. Madam, Antonio first was false to you, And not to punish that were such a Virtue As he would never thank you for; By all that's good, till he prov'd so to you, He had my Soul in keeping; But this act makes me resolve To recompense his Folly.

Ism. You've found the easiest Passage to my Heart, You've took it on the weakest side; —But I must beg you will pretend no further.

Alb. Divine Clarina, let me pay my thanks In this submissive Posture, and never rise, [Kneels. Till I can gain so much upon your Credit, As to believe my Passion tends no farther Than to adore you thus—and thus possess you. [Kisses her hand, and bows.

Ism. Have not I dissembled finely, Isabella? [Aside.

Isab. Yes, if you could make me believe 'tis so. [Aside.

Ism. Rise, Sir, and leave me, that I may blush alone For what I've parted with so easily; Pray do not visit me again too soon, —But use your own discretion, and be secret.

Alb. Madam, the blessed Secret here is lodg'd, Which Time shall ne'er reveal to human Knowledge. [Ex. Alb.

Ism. I'm glad he's gone before Antonio's return.

Enter Laura weeping.

—What, Laura, all in Tears! the reason, pray.

Lau. Madam, the Prince, conducted by my Brother, About an Hour since made me a Visit; The Man of all the World I would have shun'd, Knowing his amorous and inconstant Temper. —At his approach he blusht and started back, And I with great amazement did the like. With fear I lost all power of going from him. As he had done of making his Address; He gaz'd and wonder'd, and I gaz'd on him, And from his silence I became amaz'd. —My Brother stood confounded at our Postures, And only by the motion of his Head (Which now he turn'd to me, then on the Prince) We knew that he had Life.

Ism. Well, how recover'd ye?

Lau. The Prince then kneel'd, but could approach no nearer; And then as if he'd taken me for some Deity, He made a long disorder'd amorous Speech, Which brought me back to Sense again: But Lorenzo told him that I was a Mortal, And brought him nearer to me, Where he began to make such Vows of Love—

Ism. What then?

Lau. Then I am ruin'd— To all I said he found a contradiction, And my denials did but more inflame him; I told him of the Vows I'ad made to Curtius, But he reply'd that Curtius was a Subject. But sure at last I'd won upon his Goodness, Had not my Father enter'd, To whom the Prince addrest himself; And with his moving tale so won upon him, Or rather by his Quality, That he has gain'd his leave to visit me, And quite forbids me e'er to speak to Curtius.

Ism. Alas the day, is this all?

Lau. All! can there be more to make me miserable?

Ism. I see no reason thou hast to complain: Come, wipe your Eyes, and take a good Heart; For I'll tell thee a Story of my own, That will let thee see I have much more cause to weep; And yet I have a thousand little Stratagems In my Head, which give me as many hopes: This unlucky restraint upon our Sex, Makes us all cunning; and that shall assist thee now With my help, I warrant thee; Come in with me, and know the rest.