Lure. I have a thousand questions to ask you, sir Harry. How d'ye like France? Wild. Ah! c'est le plus beau païs du monde. Lure. Then, what made you leave it so soon? Wild. Madam, vous voyez que je vous suive par-tout. Lure. Oh, monsieur, je vous suis fort obligée. But, where's the court now? Wild. At Marli, madam. Lure. And where my count La Valier? Lure. What disease did he die of? Wild. As most doctors do; I killed him. Wild. I should ask you that question, madam, since your ladyship makes the beau-inonde whereever you come. Lure. Ah, sir Harry, I've been almost ruined, pestered to death here, by the incessant attacks of a mighty colonel; he has besieged me as close as our army did Namur. Wild. I hope your ladyship did not surrender, though. Lure. No, no; but was forced to capitulate. But since you are come to raise the siege, we'll dance, and sing, and laugh Wild. And love, and kiss votre chambre? Lure. Attendez, attendez, un peu -Montrez moi -I remem ber, sir Harry, you promised me, in Paris, never to ask that impertinent question again. Wild. Pshaw, madam! that was above two months ago: besides, madam, treaties made in France are never kept. Lure. Would you marry me, sir Harry? Wild. Oh! la marriage est un grand mal-But I will marry you. Lure. Your word, sir, is not to be relied on: if a gentleman will forfeit his honour in dealings of business, we may reasonably suspect his fidelity in an amour. Wild. My honour in dealings of business! Why, madam, I never had any business in all my life. Lure. Yes, sir Harry, I have heard a very odd story, and am sorry that a gentleman of your figure should undergo the scandal. Wild. Out with it, madam. Lure. 'Tis your business, then, to acquit yourself publickly; for he spreads the scandal everywhere. Wild. Acquit myself publicly!Here, sirrah, my coach; I'll drive instantly into the city, and cane the old villain round the Royal Exchange; he shall run the gauntlet through a thousand brushed beavers, and formal cravats, Lure. Why, he's in the house now, sir. Wild. Then, sirrah, lend me your cudgel. Lure. Sir Harry, you won't raise a disturbance in my house? Wild. Disturbance, madam! no, no, I'll beat him with the temper of a philosopher. Here, Mrs Parly, shew me the gentleman. [Exit with PARLY. Lure. Now shall I get the old monster well beaten, and sir Harry pestered next term with bloodsheds, batteries, costs and damages, solicitors and attornies; and if they don't tease him out of his good humour, I'll never plot again. [Exit. SCENE IV.-Changes to another room in the same house. Enter SMUGGler. Smug. Oh, this damned tide-waiter! A ship and cargo worth five thousand pounds! Why, 'tis richly worth five hundred perjuries. Enter WILDAIR. Wild. Dear Mr Alderman, I'm your most devoted and humble servant. Smug. My best friend, sir Harry, you're welcome to England. Wild. I'll assure you, sir, there's not a man in the king's dominions I am gladder to meet, dear, dear Mr Alderman! [Bowing very low. Smug. Oh, lord, sir, you travellers have the most obliging ways with you! Wild. There is a business, Mr Alderman, fallen out, which you may oblige me infinitely by -I am very sorry that I am forced to be trou blesome; but necessity, Mr Alderman Smug. Ay, sir, as you say, necessity- But, upon my word, sir, I am very short of money at present; but Wild. That's not the matter, sir; I'm above an obligation that way: but the business is, I'm reLure. Why, the merchant, sir, that transmit- duced to an indispensable necessity of being obted your bills of exchange to you in France, com- liged to you for a beatingHere, take this plains of some indirect and dishonourable deal-cudgel. ings. Wild. Who, old Smuggler? Lure. Ay, ay, you know him, I find. Wild. I have some reason, I think; why, the rogue has cheated me of above five hundred pounds within these three years. Smug. A beating, sir Harry! ha, ha, ha! I beat a knight-baronet! an alderman turn cudgelplayer!-Ha, ha, ha! Wild. Upon my word, sir, you must beat me, or I cudgel you; take your choice. Smug. Pshaw, pshaw! you jest. Wild. Nay, 'tis sure as fate-So, alderman, I hope you'll pardon my curiosity. [Strikes him. Smug. Curiosity! Deuce take your curiosity, sir!-What d'ye mean? Wild. Nothing at all; I'm but in jest, sir. Smug. Oh, I can take any thing in jest! but a man might imagine, by the smartness of the stroke, that you were in downright earnest. Wild. Not in the least, sir; [Strikes him.] not in the least, indeed, sir. Smug. Pray, good sir, no more of our jests; for they are the bluntest e t that er I knew. Wild. [Strikes.] I heartly beg your pardon with all my heart, sir. Smug. Pardon, sir! Well, sir, that is satisfaction enough from a gentleman. But, seriously now, if you pass any more of your jests upon me I shall grow angry. one or two more. Wild. I humbly beg your permission to break [Strikes him. Smug. Oh, lord, sir, you'll break my bones! Are you mad, sir? murder, felony, manslaughter! [WILDAIR knocks him down. Wild. Sir, I beg you ten thousand pardons; but I am absolutely compelled to it, upon my honour, sir: nothing can be more averse to my inclinations, than to jest with my honest, dear, loving, obliging friend, the Alderman. [Striking him all this while: SMUGGLER tumbles over and over, and shakes out his pocket-book on the floor; LUREWELL enters, and takes it up.] Lure. The old rogue's pocket-book; this may be of use. [Aside.] Oh, lord, Sir Harry's murdering the poor old man. Smug. Oh, dear madam, I was beaten in jest, till I am murdered in good earnest. Lure. Well, well, I'll bring you off, SeniorFrappez, frappez! SCENE I-The Street. Enter STANDARD and VIZARD. Smug. Oh, for charity's sake, madam, rescue a poor citizen! Lure. Oh, you barbarous man!-Hold, hold! Frappez, plus rudement! Frappez-I wonder you are not ashamed. [Holding WILD.] A poor, reverend, honest elder-Helps SMUG. up. It makes me weep to see him in this condition, poor man!-Now, the devil take you, sir Harry -For not beating him harder-Well, my dear, you shall come at night, and I'll make you amends. [Here SIR HARRY takes snuff. Smug. Madam, I will have amends before I leave the placeSir, how durst you use ne thus? Wild. Sir? Smug. Sir, I say that I will have satisfaction. Wild. With all my heart. [Throws snuff into his eyes. Smug. Oh, murder, blindness, fire! Oh, madam, madam, get me some water. Water, fire, fire, water! [Exit with LUREWELL. Wild. How pleasant is resenting an injury without passion! Tis the beauty of revenge. Let statesmen plot, and under business groan, And, settling ublic quiet, lose their own; Let soldiers drudge and fight for pay or fame, For when they're shot, I think 'tis much the ACT III. Stand. I BRING him word where she lodged; I the civilest rival in the world? 'Tis impossible. Viz. I shall urge it no farther, sir. I only thought, sir, that my character in the world might add authority to my words, without so many repetitions. Stand. Pardon me, dear Vizard. Our belief struggles hard, before it can be brought to yield to the disadvantage of what we love; 'tis so great an abuse to our judgment, that it makes the faults of our choice our own failing. But what said sir Harry? Viz. He pitied the poor credulous colonel, laughed heartily, flew away with all the raptures of a bride-groom, repeating these lines: A mistress ne'er can pall her lover's joys, Whose wit can whet, whene'er her beauty cloys. Stand. A mistress ne'er can pall! By all my wrongs he whores her, and I am made their property!-Vengeance-Vizard, you must carry a note for me to Sir Harry. Viz. What, a challenge? I hope you don't design to fight. Stand. What, wear the livery of my king, and pocket an affront? 'Twere an abuse to his sacred Majesty: a soldier's sword, Vizard, should start of itself to redress its master's wrong. Viz. However, sir, I think it not proper for me to carry any such message between friends. Stand. I have ne'er a servant here; what shall I do? Viz. There's Tom Errand, the porter, that plies at the Blue Posts, one who knows Sir Harr and his haunts very well; you may send a note by him. Stand. Here, you, friend! [Calling. Viz. I have now some business, and must take my leave; I would advise you, nevertheless, against this affair. Stand. No whispering now, nor telling of friends, to prevent us. He that disappoints a man of an honourable revenge, may love him foolishly like a wife, but never value him as a friend. Viz. Nay, the devil take him that parts you, say I. [Exit. Enter Porter, running. Err. Did your honour call porter? Err. Ay, very well, sir; he's one of my best masters; many a round half-crown have I had of his worship; he's newly come home from France, sir. Stand. Go to the next coffee-house, and wait for me.-Oh, woman, woman, how blessed is man when favoured by your smiles, and how accursed when all those smiles are found but wanton baits to sooth us to destruction! Thus, our chief joys with base allays are cursed, And our best things, when once corrupted, worst. [Exeunt. Enter WILDAIR, and CLINCHER senior following. Clin. sen. Sir, sir, sir! having some business of importance to communicate to you, I would beg your attention to a trifling affair that I would impart to your understanding. Wild. What is your trifling business of importance, pray, sweet sir? Clin. sen. Pray, sir, are the roads deep between this and Paris? Wild. Why that question, sir? -I sup Clin. sen. Because I design to go to the Jubilee, sir; I understand that you are a traveller, sir; there is an air of travel in the tie of your cravat, sir; there is indeed, sirpose, sir, you bought this lace in Flanders? Wild. No, sir, this lace was made in Norway. Clin. sen. Norway, sir? Wild. Yes, sir, of the shavings of deal-boards. Clin. sen. That's very strange now, faithLace made of the shavings of deal boards! 'Egad, sir, you travellers see very strange things abroad, very incredible things abroad, indeed. Well, I'li have a cravat of the very same lace before I come home. Wild. But, sir, what preparations have you made for your journey? Cún. sen. A case of pocket-pistols for the bravoes, and a swimming-girdle. Wild. Why these, sir? Clin. sen. Oh, lord, sir, I'll tell you -Suppose us in Rome, now; away goes I to some ball-for I'll be a mighty beau. Then, as I said, I go to some ball, or some bear-baiting-'tis all one, you know-then, comes a fine Italian bona roba, and plucks me by the sleeve: Signior Angle, Signior Angle-She's a very fine lady, observe that-Signior Angle, says she-Signora, says I, and trips after her to the corner of a street, suppose it Russel-street, here, or any other street; then, you know, I must invite her to the tavern; I can do no less-There up comes her bravo; the Italian grows saucy, and I give him an English dowse o' the face: I can box, sir, box tightly; I was a 'prentice, sir-But, then, sir, he whips out his stiletto, and I whips out my bull-dog-slaps him through, trips down stairs, turns the corner of Russel-street again, and whips me into the ambassador's train, and there I'm safe as a beau behind the scenes. Wild. Is your pistol charged, sir ! sir. Clin. sen. Only a brace of bullets, that's all, Wild. 'Tis a very fine pistol, truly; pray, let me see it. Clin. sen. With all my heart, sir. Wild. Hark'e, Mr Jubilee, can you digest a brace of bullets? Clin. sen. Oh, by no means in the world, sir. Wild. I'll try the strength of your stomach, however. Sir, you're a dead man. [Presenting the pistol to his breast. Clin. sen. Consider, dear sir, I am going to the Jubilee when I come home again, I am a dead man at your service. Wild. Oh, very well, sir; but take heed you are not choleric for the future. Clin. sen. Choleric, sir! Oons, I design to shoot seven Italians in a week, sir. Wild. Sir, you won't have provocation. Clin. sen. Provocation, sir? Zauns, sir, I'll kill any man for treading upon my corns; and there will be a devilish throng of people there; they say that all the princes of Italy will be there. Wild. And all the fops and fiddlers in Europe- But the use of your swimming-girdle, pray, sir? Clin. sen. Oh, lord, sir, that's easy. Suppose the ship's cast away; now, whilst other foolish people are busy at their prayers, I whip on my swimming-girdle, clap a month's provision in my pocket, and sails me away, like an egg in a duck's belly-And harkee, sir, I have a new project in my head: where d'ye think my swimminggirdle shall carry me upon this occasion? "Tis a new project. Wild. Where, sir? Clin. sen. To Civita Vecchia, faith and troth, and so save the charges of my passage. Well, sir, you must pardon me now; I'm going to see my mistress. [Exit. Wild. This fellow's an accomplished ass before he goes abroad. Well, this Angelica has got into my heart, and I can't get her out of my head.I must pay her t'other visit, [Exit. SCENE II.-LADY DARLING's house. Enter ANGELICA. this seal my pardon; [Kisses her hand.] and this [Again.] initiate me to farther happiness. Ang. Hold, sir-one question, sir Harry, and pray, answer plainly-D'ye love me? Wild. Love you! Does fire ascend? Do hy Ang. Unhappy state of woman! whose chief virtue is but ceremony, and our much boasted modesty but a slavish restraint. The strict con-pocrites dissemble? Usurers love gold, or great finement on our words makes our thoughts ram- men flattery? Doubt these, then question that I ble more; and what preserves our outward love. fame, destroys our inward quiet. Tis hard that love should be denied the privilege of hatred; that scandal and detraction should be so much indulged, yet sacred love and truth debarred our conversation. Enter DARLING, CLINCHER junior, and DICKY. Dick. Aye 'faith, sir; but why don't you speak to her? Clin. jun. I beg your pardon, Dicky; I know my distance. Would you have me speak to a lady at the first sight? Dick. Aye, sir, by all means; the first aim is the surest. Clin. jun. Now, for a good jest, to make her Enter WILDAIR, interposing. Clin. jun. What, the devil! the madman's here again. Lady Dar. Bless me, cousin, what d'ye mean? Affront a gentleman of his quality in my house? Clin. jun. Quality!—Why, madam, I don't know what you mean by your madmen, and your beaux, and your quality-they're all alike, I believe. Lady Dar. Pray, sir, walk with me into the next room. [Exit LADY DARLING, leading CLINCHER.— DICKY following.] Ang. This shews your gallantry, sir, but not your love. Wild. View your own charms, madam, then judge my passion; your beauty ravishes my eye, your voice my ear, and your touch has thrilled my melting soul. Ang. If your words be real, 'tis in your power to raise an equal flame in me. Wild. Nay, then, I seize Ang. Hold, sir! 'tis also possible to make me detest and scorn you worse than the most profigate of your deceiving sex. Wild. Ha! A very odd turn this! I hope, madam, you only affect anger, because you know your frowns are becoming. Ang. Sir Harry, you being the best judge of your own designs, can best understand whether my anger should be real or dissembled; think what strict modesty should bear, then judge of my resentment. Wild. Strict modesty should bear! Why, faith, madam, I believe, the strictest modesty may bear fifty guineas, and I don't believe 'twill bear one farthing more. Ang. What d'ye mean, sir? Wild. Nay, madam, what do you mean, if you go to that? I think, now, fifty guineas is a fine offer for your strict modesty, as you call it. Ang. Tis more charitable, sir Harry, to charge the impertinence of a man of your figure on his defect in understanding, than on his want of manners—I am afraid you're mad, sir. Wild. Why, madam, you're enough to make any man mad. 'Sdeath, are you not aAng. What, sir? Wild. Why, a lady of-strict modesty, if you will have it so. Ang. I shall never hereafter trust common report, which represented you, sir, a man of honour, a-wit, and breeding; for I find you very deficient in them all three. [Exit ANGELICA. Ang. Sir, if your conversation be no more greeable than 'twas the last time, I would advise you to make your visit as short as you can. Wild. The offences of my last visit, madam, bore their punishment in the commission; and have made me as uneasy till I receive pardon, as your ladyship can be till I sue for it. Ang. Sir Harry, I did not well understand the offence, and must therefore proportion it to the greatness of your apology; if you would, therefore, have me think it light, take no great pains in an excuse. Wild. How sweet must the lips be that guard that tongue! Then, madam, no more of past offences; let us prepare for joys to come. Let Wild. Now I find that the strict pretences which the ladies of pleasure make to strict modesty, is the reason why those of quality are ashamed to wear it, Enter VIZARD. Viz. Ah, sir Harry! have I caught you?— Well, and what success? Wild. Success! 'Tis a shame for you young fellows in town here to let the wenches grow so saucy. I offered her fifty guineas, and she was in her airs presently, and flew away in a huff.— I could have had a brace of countesses in Paris for half the money, and je vous remercie into the bargain. Viz. Gone in her airs, say you! And did not you follow her? Wild. Whither should I follow her? Viz. Into her bed-chamber, man; she went on purpose. You a man of gallantry, and not understand that a lady's best pleased when she puts on her airs, as you call it! Wild. She talked to me of strict modesty, and stuff. Viz. Certainly. Most women magnify their modesty, for the same reason that cowards boast their courage because they have least on't. Come, come, sir Harry, when you make your next assault, encourage your spirits with brisk Burgundy if you succeed, 'tis well; if not, you have a fair excuse for your rudeness. I'll go in, and make your peace for what's past. Oh, I had almost forgot-Colonel Standard wants to speak with you about some business. : Wild. I'll wait upon him presently; d'ye know where he may be found? Viz. In the piazza of Covent-Garden, about an hour hence, I promised to see him; and there you may meet him-to have your throat cut. [Aside.] I'll go in and intercede for you. Wild. But no foul play with the lady, Vizard. [Exit. Viz. No fair play, I can assure you. [Exit. SCENE III.-The_Street before LUREWELL'S Lodgings. CLINCHER senior, and LUREWELL, coquetting in the balcony. Enter STANDARD. Stand. Oh, madam, all your artifices won't avail. Lure. Nay, sir, your artifices won't avail. I thought, sir, that I gave you caution enough against troubling me with sir Harry Wildair's company, when I sent his letters back by you? yet you, forsooth, must tell him where I lodged, and expose me again to his impertinent courtship! Stand. I expose you to his courtship! Lure. I'll lay my life you'll deny it now. Come, come, sir; a pitiful lie is as scandalous to a red coat, as an oath to a black. Did not sir Harry himself tell me, that he found out, by you, where lodged? Stand. How weak is reason in disputes of love! That daring reason, which so oft pretends to question works of high omnipotence, yet poorly truckles to our weakest passions, and yields imStand. You're all lies; first, your heart is plicit faith to foolish love, paying blind zeal to false; your eyes are double; one look belies faithless women's eyes. I've heard her falsehood another; and then, your tongue does contradict with such pressing proofs, that I no longer should them all-Madam, I see a little devil just now distrust it. Yet still my love would baffle de- hammering out a lie in your pericranium. monstration, and make impossibilities seem pro- Lure. As I hope for mercy, he's in the right bable. [Looks up.] Ha! That fool, too! What,on't. [Aside.] Hold, sir, you have got the playstoop so low as that animal?-'Tis true, women house cant upon your tongue, and think, that wit once fallen, like cowards in despair, will stick at nay privilege your railing: but, I must tell you, nothing; there's no medium in their actions. sir, that what is satire upon the stage, is ill manThey must be bright as angels, or black as fiends.ners here. But now for my revenge; I'll kick her cully before her face, call her whore, curse the whole sex, and leave her. [Goes in. LUREWELL comes down with CLINCHER senior. The Scene changes to a Dining-Room. Lure. Oh, lord, sir, it is my husband! What will become of yon? Clin. sen. Ah, your husband! Oh, I shall be murdered! What shall I do? Where shall I run? I'll creep into an oven; I'll climb up the chimVOL. II. Stand. What is feigned upon the stage, is here, in reality, real falsehood. Yes, yes, madam-I exposed you to the courtship of your fool Clincher, too; I hope your female wiles will impose that upon me -also Lure. Clincher! Nay, now, you're stark mad. I know no such person. Stand. Oh, woman in perfection! not know him? 'Slife, madam, can my eyes, my piercing jealous eyes, be so deluded? Nay, madam, my nose could not mistake him; for I smelt the fop by his pulvilio from the balcony down to the street. 2 T |