The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. III - Aphra Behn
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[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.