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Tol. 'Tis too cheap in conscience; but my landestate is so ill paid this war-time

Lop. That a little industry may be commendable; so say no more; that matter's fixed. [Exeunt LOP. and TOL.

Enter CAMILLO.

Cam. How miserable a perplexity have I brought myself into! Yet why do I complain? since, with all the dreadful torture I endure, I cann't repent of one wild step I've made. O love! what tempests canst thou raise, what storms canst thou assuage! To all thy cruelties I am resigned. Long years through seas of torment I'm content to roll, so thou wilt guide me to the happy port of my Lorenzo's arms, and bless me there with one calm day at last.

Enter ISABELLA.

What news, dear Isabella? Methinks there's something cheerful in your looks, may give a trembling lover hopes. If you have comfort for me, speak, for I indeed have need of it.

Isa. Were your wants yet still greater than they are, I bring a plentiful supply.

Cam. O Heavens! Is't possible?

Isa. New mysteries are out, and if you can find charms to wean Lorenzo from your sister, no other obstacle is in your way to all you wish.

Cam. Kind messenger from Heaven, speak on. Isa. Know, then, that you are daughter to Al

varez.

Cam. How! Daughter to Alvarez?

Isa. You are: The truth this moment's come to light; and till this moment he, although your father, was a stranger to it, nay, did not even know you were a woman. In short, the great cstate, which has occasioned these uncommon accidents, was left but on condition of a son; great hopes of one there was, when you destroyed 'em, and to your parents came a most unwelcome guest: To repair the disappointment, you were exchanged for that young Camillo, who few months after died. Your father then was absent, but your mother, quick in contrivance, bold in execution, during that infant's sickness, had resolved his death should not deprive her family of those advantages his life had given it; so ordered things with such dexterity, that once again there past a change between you: Of this (for reasons yet unknown to me) she made a secret to her husband, and took such wise precautions, that till this hour 'twas so to all the world, except the person from whom I now have heard it.

tinue so. They have agreed to be a little merry with the heat he is in, and engage you in a familyquarrel with him.

Cam. I doubt, Isabella, I shall act that part but faintly.

Isa. No matter; you'll make amends for it in the scene of reconciliation.

Cam. Pray Heaven it be my lot to act it with him.

Isa. Here comes Don Felix to wish you joy.

Enter Don FELIX.

Fel. Come near, my daughter, and with extended arms of great affection let me receive thee. [Kisses her.] Thou art a dainty wench, good faith thou art, and 'tis a mettled action thou hast done: if Lorenzo don't like thee the better for't, cods my life, he's a pitiful fellow, and I sha'n't believe the bonny old man had the getting of him.

Cam. I'm so encouraged by your forgiveness, sir, methinks I have some flattering hopes of his.

Fel. Of his! 'Egad, and he had best; I believe he'll meet with his match if he don't. What dost think of trying his courage a little, by way of a joke or so?

Isa. I was just telling her your design, sir.

Fel. Why, I'm in a mighty witty way upon this whimsical occasion; but I see him coming. You must not appear yet: go your way, in to the rest of the people there, and I'll inform him what a squabble he has worked himself into here.

[Exeunt CAMILLO and ISABElla.

Enter LORENZO and LOPEZ.

Lop. Pray, sir, don't be so obstinate now; don't affront Heaven at this rate. I had a vision last night about this business, on purpose to forewarn you: I dreamt of goose-eggs, a blunt knife, and the snuff of a candle: I'm sure there's mischief towards

Lor. You cowardly rascal, hold your tongue.

Fel. Lorenzo, come hither, my boy; I was just going to send for thee. The honour of our ancient family lies in thy hands; there is a combat preparing; thou must fight, my son.

Lop. Look you there now; did not I tell you? O! dreams are wondrous things: I never knew that snuff of a candle fail yet.

Lor. Sir, I do not doubt but Carlos seeks my life; I hope he'll do it fairly,

Lop. Fairly! Do you hear, fairly! Give me leave to tell you, sir, folks are not fit to be trusted with lives, that don't know how to look better after them. Sir, you gave it him; I hope you'll make Cum. This news indeed affords a view of no un-him take a little more care on't. happy termination; yet there are difficulties still may be of fatal hindrance.

Isa. None, except that one I just now named to you; for, to remove the last, know I have already unfolded all, both to Alvarez and Don Felix.

Cam. And how have they received it?

Fel. My care shall be to make him do as a man of honour ought to do.

Lop. What, will you let him fight then? Let your own flesh and blood fight?

Fel. In a good cause, as this is.

Lop. O, monstrum horrendum! Now I have that humanity about me, that if a man but talks to me of fighting, I shiver at the name on't.

Isa. To your wishes both. As for Lorenzo, he is yet a stranger to all has past, and the two old Lor. What you do on this occasion, sir, is fathers desire he may some moments longer con-worthy of you: And had I been wanting to you

in my due regards before, this noble action would | something to prevent bloodshed? Why, madam, have stamped that impression which a grateful have you no pity, no bowels? [To LEO.] Stand son ought to have for so generous a father. and see one of your husbands butchered before Lop. Very generous, truly! Gives him leave to your face? 'Tis an arrant shame. be run through the guts, for his posterity to brag on a hundred years hence. [Aside. Lor. I think, sir, as things now stand, it won't be right for me to wait for Carlos's call; I'll, if you please, prevent him.

Lop. Ay, pray, sir, do prevent him by all means; 'tis better made up, as you say, a thousand times.

Fel. Hold your tongue, you impertinent jackanapes: I will have him fight, and fight like a fury too; if he don't, he'll be worsted, I can tell him that: For know, son, your antagonist is not the person you name; it is an enemy of twice his force.

Lop. O dear, O dear, O dear! and will nobody keep 'em asunder?

Lor. Nobody shall keep us asunder, if once I know the man I have to deal with.

Fel. Thy man then is-Camillo.

Lor. Camillo !

Leo. If widowhood be my fate, I must bear it as I can.

Lop. Why, did you ever hear the like! Lor. Talk to her no more: her monstrous impudence is no otherwise to be replied to, than by a dagger in her brother's heart.

Leo. Yonder he's coming to receive it. But have a care, brave sir, he does not place it in another's.

Lor. It is not in his power; he has a rotten cause upon his sword: I'm sorry he's engaged in it; but since he is, he must take his fate. For you, my bravo, expect me in your turn.

! [To CARLOS. Car. You'll find Camillo, sir, will set your hand out.

Lor. A beardless boy. You might have matched me better, sir; but prudence is a virtue.

Fel. Nay, son, I would not have thee despise thy adversary neither; thou'lt find Camillo will

Fel. 'Tis he; he'll suffer nobody to decide this put thee hardly to it. quarrel but himself.

Lop. Then there are no seconds, sir?

Fel. None.

Lop. He's a brave man.

Fel. No, he says nobody's blood shall be spilt upon this occasion, but theirs who have a title to it.

Lop. I believe he'll scarce have a law-suit upon the claim.

Fel. In short, he accuses thee of a shameful falsehood, in pretending his sister Leonora was thy wife; and has upon it prevailed with his father, as thou hast done with thine, to let the debate be ended by the sword 'twixt him and thee.

Lop. And pray, sir, with submission, one short question, if you please: What may the gentle Leonora say of this business?

Fel. She approves of the combat, and marries Carlos.

Lop. Why, God a-mercy!

Lor. Is it possible? Sure she's a devil, and not

a woman.

Lop. Ay――cod, sir, the devil and a woman both, I think.

Fel. Well, thou shalt have satisfaction of some of 'em: Here they all come.

Enter ALVAREZ, LEONORA, Carlos, SANCHO, and JACINTA.

Alt. Well, Don Felix, have you prepared your son? for mine, he's ready to engage.

Lor. And so is his. My wrongs prepare me for a thousand combats. My hand has hitherto been held by the regard I've had to every thing of kin to Leonora; but since the monstrous part she acts has driven her from my heart, I call for reparation from her family.

Alv. You'll have it, sir: Camillo will attend you instantly.

Lop. O lack! O lack! will nobody do a little

Lor. I wish we were come to the trial. Why does he not appear?

Jac. Now do I hate to hear people brag thus Sir, with my lady's leave, I'll hold a ducat he dis arms you. [They laugh. Lor. Why, what!-I think I'm sported with Take heed; I warn you all; I am not to be trifled with.

Enter CAMILLO and ISABELLA.

Leo. You sha'n't, sir; here's one will be in earnest with you.

Lor. He's welcome, though I had rather have drawn my sword against another. I'm sorry, Camillo, we should meet on such bad terms as these; yet more sorry your sister should be the wicked cause on't; but since nothing will serve her but the blood either of a husband or brother, she shall be glutted with it. Draw.

Lop. Ah Lard, ah Lard, ah Lard!

Lor. And yet before I take this instrument of death into my fatal hand, hear me, Camillo; hear Alvarez; all! I imprecate the utmost powers of Heaven to shower upon my head the deadliest of its wrath; I ask that all hell's torments may unite to round my soul with one eternal anguish, if wicked Leonora ben't my wife.

Omnes. O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!

Leo. Why then, may all those curses pass him by, and wrap me in their everlasting pains, if ever once I had a fleeting thought of making him my husband.

Lop. O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!

Leo. Nay, more; to strike him dumb at once, and shew what men with honest looks can prac tise, know, he's married to another.

Alv. and Fel. How!

Leo. The truth of this is known to some here.
Jac. Nay, 'tis certainly so.
Isa. 'Tis to a friend of mine.

VANBURGH.]

Car. I know the person.

THE MISTAKE.

Lor. 'Tis false, and thou art a villain for thy testimony.

Cam. Then let me speak. What they aver is true, and I myself was, in disguise, a witness of its doing.

Lor. Death and confusion! He a villain too! [He draws. Have at thy heart. Lop. Ah! I cann't bear the sight on't. Cam. Put up that furious thing; there's no business for't.

Lor. There's business for a dagger, stripling; 'tis that should be thy recompence. Cam. Why then, to shew thee naked to the world, and close thy mouth for evermyself thy wife.

-I am

Lor. What does the dog mean? Cam. To fall upon the earth and sue for mer[Kneels, and lets her periwig fall off. cy.

Lor. A woman!

Lop. Ay-cod, and a pretty one too, you

wags you.

Lor. I'm all amazement. Rise, Camillo, (if I am still to call you by that name,) and let me hear the wonders you have for me.

Isa. That part her modesty will ask from me. I'm to inform you then, that this disguise hides other mysteries besides a woman: a large and fair estate was covered by it, which, with the lady, now will be resigned to you. 'Tis true, in justice it was yours before; but 'tis the god of love has done you right. To him you owe this strange discovery; through him you are to know the true Camillo's dead, and that this fair adventurer is daughter to Alvarez.

Lor. Incredible! but go on; let me hear more. Fel. She'll tell thee the rest herself, the next dark night she meets thee in the garden.

Lor. Ha!-Was it Camillo then, that I-
Isa. It was Camillo who there made you hap-
py; and who has virtue, beauty, wit, and love
-enough to make you so, while life shall last

you.

Lor. The proof she gives me of her love deserves a large acknowledgment indeed. Forgive me, therefore, Leonora, if what I owe this goodness and these charms, I, with my utmost care, my life, my soul, endeavour to repay.

Cam. Is it then possible you can forgive me? Lor. Indeed I can: few crimes have such a claim to mercy; but join with me then, dear Camillo, (for still I know you by no other name ;) join with me to obtain your father's pardon: Yours, Leonora, too, I must implore; and yours, my friend, for now we may be such. [To CARLOS.] Of all I ask forgiveness. And since there is so fair a cause of all my wild mistakes, I hope I, by her interest, shall obtain it.

Alv. You have a claim to mine, Lorenzo; I wish I had so strong a one to yours; but if by future services (though I lay down my life amongst (I cannot name,) I then shall leave the world in 'em) I may blot out of your remembrance a fault, peace.

Lor. In peace then, sir, enjoy it; for from this very hour, whate'er is past with me, is gone for ever. Your daughter is too fair a mediatrix to be refused his pardon, to whom she owes the charms she pleads with for it.

From this good day, then, let all discord cease;
Let those to come be harmony and peace:
Henceforth let all our diff'rent interests join;
Let fathers, lovers, friends, let all combine
To make each other's days as blest as she will
[Exeunt.
mine.

EPILOGUE.

WRITTEN BY MR MOTTEUX.

I'm thinking, now good husbands are so few,
must do.
To get one for my friend what
Camillo ventur'd hard, yet, at the worst,
She stole love's honey-moon, and try'd her lover
first.

Many poor damsels, if they dar'd to tell,
Have done as much, but have not 'scaped so well.
'Tis well the scene's in Spain: thus, in the dark,
I should be loath to trust a London spark.
Some accident might, for a private reason,
Silence a female all this acting season.
Hard fate of woman! Any one wou'd vex
To think what odds you men have of our sex.

Restraint and custom share our inclination ;
You men can try, and run o'er half the nation.
We dare not, even to avoid reproach,
coach;
When you're at White's, peep out of hackney-

Nor with a friend at night, our fame regarding,
With glass drawn up, drive 'bout Covent-Garden.
Though like chaste nuns their modest looks they
If poor town-ladies steal in here, you rail,
veil;

With this decorum, they can hardly gain

To be thought virtuous, e'en in Drury-Lane.

Though this you'll not allow, yet sure you may
A plot to snap you, in an honest way.
In love affairs one scarce would spare a brother:
All cheat; and married folks may keep a pother,
But look as if they cheated one another.
You may pretend our sex dissembles most,
But of your truth none have much cause to boast:
You promise bravely, but, for all your storming,
We find you're not so valiant at performing.

Then sure Camillo's conduct you'll approve: Wou'd you not do as much for one you love? Wedlock's but a blind bargain at the best, You venture more sometimes, to be not half so blest.

All, soon or late, that dangerous venture make, And some of you may make a worse mistake.

THE

PROVOKED HUSBAND.

BY

VANBURGH & CIBBER.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN BY MR WILKS.

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Not only what you are, but ought to be:
Though vice was natural, 'twas never meant
The stage should shew it, but for punishment!
Warm with that thought, his muse once more
took flame,

Resolved to bring licentious life to shame.
Such was the piece his latest pen design'd,
But left no traces of his plan behind.

Luxuriant scenes, unprun'd, or half contrived;
Yet through the mass his native fire survived:
Rough as rich ore, in mines the treasure lay,
Yet still 'twas rich, and forms at length a play,
In which the bold compiler boasts no merit,
But that his pains have saved your scenes of
spirit ;

Not scenes that would a noisy joy impart,

But such as hush the mind, and warm the heart.
From praise of hands no sure account he draws,
But fix'd attention is sincere applause.

If then (for hard you'll own the task) his art
Can to those embryon-scenes new life impart,
The living proudly would exclude his lays,
And to the buried bard resigns the praise.

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Masqueraders, Constable, Servants, &c.

The Scene, Lord Townly's House, and sometimes Sir Francis's Lodgings.

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