LUCENTIUS.

Come, come, my Lord, 'tis in vain to dissemble; that deep Thoughtfulness, those downcast Looks, and those involuntary Sighs, carry a Meaning with 'em which one of my Age and Observation in Life can't long be a Stranger to.—But I transgress, perhaps, by insisting so long on this Subject.

Bell.

No, Lucentius, you can't deal too freely with me upon it:—I must own, tho' with blushing, that Love has at last found a way to my Heart.—Come, my good old Tutor, and chastise me for this Folly; rally me without Reserve for being guilty of such a Weakness.

Lucen.

No, my Lord, even the cold Severity of Old Age can't induce me to condemn so generous a Passion. Your Infancy was spent under my Care; I observ'd in you such excellent

Talents as proclaim'd the Blood you sprung from, but at the same time was grieved to perceive no Footsteps of the tender Passion; this was the only Accomplishment wanting, and I am therefore transported at your being sensible of it.

Bell.

If I have hitherto slighted the Power of Love it takes its fill of Revenge for it now. When I first arrived at Genoa I was surpris'd at the Charms of lovely Lucilia, Daughter to the Duke here; but then I beheld 'em with no other Regard than I should have view'd those of a Painting or Statue: Her blooming Beauties inspir'd my Soul with no secret Inclination; but what her soft, her gentle Frame could not effect, her haughty disdainful Soul too soon accomplish'd: When I found her, like another Diana, frequenting the Forests and delighting only in the Chace, whilst all the Italian Youths were left to sigh in vain; then, then, Lucentius, Ambition begot Love in me: O the Glory and Rapture of triumphing over such Coldness! In short, by the Vanity of aiming at a Conquest over her Heart, I have irrecoverably lost my own.

Lucen.

But to what purpose, my Lord, do you make so great a Secret of your Passion?

Bell.

What must I expect from the Discovery, Lucentius, but bringing on me the Contempt of her insolent Spirit, like the rest of her Admirers? who owning themselves Lovers makes her treat 'em as Spaniels: Their Usage is a sufficient Warning to me.

Lucen.

Not at all, my Lord, not at all: If there was a Favourite in the Case you might have reason to despair, but when there's nothing but a little Female Pride in the way—Psha, Psha, Psha! Why 'tis only so much as to say, that none but a dauntless Champion shall win me.—I know the Sex— ay, ay, I know 'em.—Why, I warrant she's half distracted that you han't attack'd her before now.—Come, come, my Lord, discover your Inclinations, and go manfully to work; don't tremble at other Peoples want of Success, but let Courage be the Word, and secure your own.

Bell.

I am glad your Opinion, Lucentius, agrees with my own, for, like a true Lover, I have been asking Advice when 'twas too late to take it; for there's a Person, you must know, whom I have already employ'd to reveal it to her: This Hunting-Match which she has appointed to-day, in contradiction

to the magnificent Sports, which are to be given by her Lovers in honour of her Birth Day, is the Opportunity which Joculo takes to speak to her.

Lucen.

Who? Joculo! Joculo, my Lord.

Bell.

You wonder, I see, Lucentius, at my Choice of a Confident: You think him a Fool perhaps, but he's far from being so; and, notwithstanding his Employment of Court-Jester, he has more Sense than many in a higher Station who take upon 'em to laugh at him. His shrewd Wit and Talent at Rallery are agreeable to Lucilia; then he has the Liberty of saying any thing by virtue of his Office, and he can often give her a serviceable Hint in a Jest, which would not be taken so well in earnest.

Lucen.

O dear, dear, dear! what a strange World this is, that People of Rank should be directed in the Disposal of their Favours by their Lacqueys and Buffoons!

Bell.

But here comes Joculo: Let us now examine what Progress he has made.

Jocu.

Well, my Lord, this Lady of ours has a strange contradictory Temper of her own; she does not only refuse going to these Martial Exercises, which her Knight-Errants have reviv'd to-day out of pure Compliance with her Ladyship's singular Humour; but to put a greater Contempt on 'em she must needs make a Visit to the wild Beasts here.

Bell.

But, Joculo, have you had any Opportunity yet of mentioning—

Jocu.

No, my Lord, to say the truth, I have done nothing yet; the Office of a Buffoon has its Privileges and Prerogatives; but we must, like other great Courtiers, watch for your Seasonable Minutes: 'Tis a ticklish thing, you must know, to talk of such a Business to her; for she bids horrible Defiance to all Vows, Protestations, Sighs, Ogles, and Billet-doux, declares bitter War against conjugal Bands, and treats Cupid like a rascally Deity.—But let me alone to manage it by degrees; I am in your Interest, that's enough. I love Men of Merit, that's all.

Bell.

And so do I, Joculo, and reward 'em too.—Lookye, Sir, here's a Purse of most exquisite Workmanship; you must keep this for my sake.

Jocu.

Pardon me, my Lord, by no means; no, by no means, indeed. —I won't touch it upon my Honour; I'm quite above all those things, I assure you. [Seeing Bellario offer to put up the Purse.] However, my Lord, I would not willingly affront you neither; no, no, I'll sooner accept of it than do that.—I'm glad I thought of that in Time—

Bell. [Giving him the Purse.]

Ay, now thou speak'st like thy self.

Jocu.

Why that's true too: I had forgot I was a Courtier sure!—Well, my Lord, I believe I may keep the Purse for your sake, but I can't promise for what's in't. The next Favour I have to ask for my self, that must be transferr'd into another's Clutches.

Lucen.

So Bribing, and being bribed, goes round in a Circle.

Jocu.

Ay, ay, this is our dear Life's Blood; if this does not circulate freely every thing here is presently at a stand.— Why, Sir, tho' we hate speaking Truth, yet we won't ev'n tell a Lye for any body without a Bribe.—Well, my Lord, give me your Hand, I'll take care of you; and, to say the truth, I'm bound by virtue of my Post to do it.

Bell.

How so, Joculo?

Jocu.

Because I am a Fool by my Office, you know; and you are a Lover, by Profession, my Lord.

Bell.

Well, and what then, Sirrah?

Jocu.

What then! why then one Fool ought to help another, that's all, Ha, ha, ha! You won't be angry, my Lord, I only assume a Privilege that belongs to me.

Bell.

Thou art a merry Rascal, always employ'd in the Business of thy Profession.

Jocu.

Ah, my Lord, a Man of my Employment can never want Business at Court: My Place is very different from most of 'em there; there's nothing to do for many but to receive the Pay; and 'tis well there is not; 'twou'd be scurvily done else by those that have 'em.

Bell.

Oh brave Joculo!

Jocu.

Nay, this is more than a Jest, my Lord; now my Place would furnish out Business for as many Tongues as Argus had Eyes; one Drawing-Room gives occasion enough for Laughing a Fortnight together.

Bell.

Joculo is in the right, Lucentius; there's nothing more truly the Subject of Ridicule than the ceremonious Buffoonry of the various Actors there.

Jocu.

Good, my Lord, where a true-bred Courtier changes Shapes and Faces, as often as Harlequin in a Farce; hugs a Man with the Fever of Affection this Moment, and the next, if he is but ask'd his Name, cries out with an Air of Astonishment— Pooh! how should I know the Fellow's Name? I never saw him twice in my Life before.—Upon which he turns on his Heel to his Circle of Parasites, and promises the same Place to twenty in a Breath, which he had given to his Pimp the Morning before—When I see this, why I must laugh, Ha, ha!

Lucen.

And, what is more diverting still, that they should be all such Oafs as to believe him too.

Jocu.

Oh! they must starve if they did not do that.

Bell.

How so, pr'ythee?

Jocu.

Because Hopes are all they have to live on.—Next, my Lord, I present you with a solemn gouty overgrown Frier, just come from preaching up Poverty and Contentment, here standing bow'd to a Strumpet of Distinction, most humbly beseeching her Interest for a fat Sine-cure; when Madam, with a Curtsie of Approbation, assures him of his Request, thanks him for his excellent Discourse, and before his Back is well turn'd— cries, Fogh! how the Porpus smelt of Divinity! Ha, ha, ha! Why must not I laugh then, hey, my Lord?

Bell.

Ha, ha, ha!—Go on, Joculo; why thou hast an excellent Hand at this kind of Painting.

Jocu.

Next, Gentlemen, you have an old weather-beaten Officer bringing his young blooming Wife to solicit Preferment for him: Whisk! she pierces like Lightning thro' the Crowd, whispers a great Man in the Ear, makes an Assignation at the Opera with him, and then returning, with the most serene Modesty, chucks her Warrior under the Chin, and cries—I have done your Business for you, my Love. Ha, ha, ha! why I must laugh now, and who cou'd help it?

Bell.

Excellently perform'd!—Pray proceed.

Jocu.

Here, my Lord, you may see a haughty big-looking Judge cringe to a gaudy Velvet Rook, whom he would have sent to the Gibbet long before, if his Knavery had not been s[illeg.] en'd by Success; and a clumsy purse-proud Cit making his

aukward Compliments to a courteous Count for the Honour of his last Visit, when he seduc'd his Wife, and got a Fool to inherit the Possessions of a Knave.

Lucen.

True enough; all true.

Jocu.

Here you may see some sweating and panting to get within the Circle merely for the sake of a Glance or a Bow, and others sneaking off with Anguish and Confusion because they have miss'd of it—A Courtesan in one Corner deciding the Affairs of the Nation, and a Statesman in the next getting Subscriptions for a Masquerade; Ha, ha, ha! Now, when I see this pleasant Farce acted over and over, I'gad I must laugh, and most immoderately too.

Bell.

But harkye, Sirrah, you come so nigh Truth in your Rallery, that it may be more than a Jest to thy self at last.

Jocu.

Oh, my Lord, I have a Patent for speaking Truth, or else I should be a Fool indeed to utter it within the Walls of a Palace.

Bell.

But this is not the way to get Preferment, Sir.

Jocu.

Why, that's true; your great People are above paying any regard to Merit; 'tis their Pride that they are high enough to prefer in despite of it; they are resolv'd that their Favours shall be quite voluntary, and therefore always confer 'em on those who could never pretend to the least grain of Desert.

Bell.

Nay, that's going a little beyond Truth, Joculo, for we see Men of Merit in the highest Stations.

Jocu.

Ah lack-a-day, my Lord, that may be—but few of 'em got there by their Merit, tho'—no, no, 'twas for some particular Humour or Folly that belong'd to 'em—for we of the greatest Merit have our Failings.

Bell.

What a sarcastical Knave thou art!

Jocu.

One Man, with his Merit, may have a Talent at Flattery— why he's preferr'd: Another may play well on the Fiddle —he's presently preferr'd: Another may have a Knack at bowing low—he rises in time: And another—why he may have a pretty Sister or Wife—and he's sure to be preferr'd.

Bell.

O' my Conscience, Lucentius, the Rogue has hit it.

Jocu.

But hist! here comes Lucilia; I'll about your Business directly, my Lord.

Bell.

No, hold, Joculo, I have thought better of it; I see plainly that she's resolv'd to despise all who think to gain her

by Submission; I shall therefore take a different Method to try her. If dear Cupid prove but propitious to me in this Stratagem he may crown my Wishes, and revenge himself at the same time.—It must, it shall succeed.

Lucen.

Ay, ay, ay, this is something like, my Lord; now you take courage you'll do the Business.

Jocu.

True, these haughty Dames despise your sneaking cringing Milksops; they love to have a tight Struggle, that when they do yield they may have some Excuse for it.—But mayn't we know the Particulars of your Scheme?

Bell.

You shall see—follow me, and be silent.

Jocu.

Fare you well, my Lord; I must stay here, for I see her Ladyship is coming, and there's nothing to be done without us:—Now can't I help wondering what a Court can mean by keeping up such a Post as mine: What the Duce need they hire People to play the Fool, when they have so many about 'em that play it naturally? O' my Conscience 'tis only to have somebody to laugh at, who may appear at least more silly than themselves.

Lucil.

How charming and agreeable is a little Solitude to us who are eternally surrounded and teiz'd with Multitudes! and what Satisfaction to converse a little with one's own Thoughts and Desires, free from the Impertinence of Flattery and Folly! O, my dear Liberia, how I love these lonely Forests, these Scenes of Freedom and Innocence! There's nothing here but what enchants the Eye.—What are all the gilded Toys of a Palace to these simple Beauties of Nature?

Lib.

Why ay, Cousin, such a Retreat as this, at the very Gate of a Court, is well enough sometimes to give one a stronger Relish for succeeding Gaieties within; but in this time of general Joy it looks, methinks, a little unseasonable, and I am afraid 'twill be taken as a direct Affront to the young Lords, who give this magnificent Entertainment on your Account.

Lucil.

What Right have they to expect my Presence? How am I oblig'd to 'em for their Magnificence? They act in this manner for themselves, not me. My Heart is the Prize, it seems, and this is the Method they take to win it; but they may find themselves deceiv'd.

Lib.

My sweet Cousin, how long will this flinty Heart of yours be provok'd at every innocent Attempt to touch it: You look upon the Addresses of your Admirers as so many criminal Plots against your Person: Where would be the Pleasure of Breathing if Love were banish'd out of the World? To live without loving is, properly speaking, not to live at all.

Delia.

I am of your Cousin's Opinion, Madam, all Pleasures are insipid unless season'd with that.

Lucil.

Astonishing Notions! Why 'tis nothing but Error, Weakness, and Extravagance: No, I'll maintain the Honour of my Sex against all those Sighs, Homages and Respects, which are only Snares to overthrow it: Men only pretend to be our Slaves the present Hour, in order to be real Tyrants to us for the future.

Lib.

Take care, my Dear, Cupid's a testy little Urchin, and knows how to revenge any Slight cast upon him.—Come, Joculo, how came you silent so long? Won't you help to defend Love against my Cousin's Opinion?

Lucil.

Nay, then you'll have a powerful Advocate indeed.

Jocu.

Troth, Madam, after my Example I think there'll be nothing more to be said; I defy'd him most heroically for a long time I must own, but at length the Trickster juggled me out o' my Senses.

Lib.

Joculo, in Love!

Jocu.

Yes, Joculo in Love.

Lib.

And does he pretend to be belov'd again?

Jocu.

Yes sure, Madam, belike he does: And why not, pray? I am no such contemptible Figure, if I know my self: As for my Shape I can't find much fault in it: My Face I think too may pass in a Crowd; and as for Wit and Parts, as much a Fool as I am, thank Jupiter, we need not lower the Flag to many in the Drawing-Room.

Lucil.

Ha, ha, ha! And pr'ythee who is the happy Nymph that is so highly favour'd?

Jocu.

A certain fair Handmaid of your Ladyship's there; therefore after this, Madam, you ought to submit: Since I do, I think others very well may.—But see, Madam, the Duke your Father is coming hither, and Lord Bellario with him.

Lucil.

What is my Father's Intention in bringing of him to me? Is he resolv'd on my Ruin? and must the Tranquillity

and Satisfaction of my whole Life be sacrific'd for the sake of Heirs to his Possessions?

Lib.

O my Dear, there may be a little Comfort in that Affair fall to your Share too—and if I an't mistaken—

Lucil.

Fye, Liberia.

Lib.

Fye! for what?—Psha! I hate People to be so very squeamish, there's no Harm, my Dear, in talking merrily, so we act but modestly: Sealing up the Lips won't seare the Inclinations; my Heart's as sound as a Bell, thank Cupid, and therefore my Tongue shall be as true as a Clapper to it; what the one innocently thinks the other shall always chearfully utter.

Jocu.

'Gad, Madam, I am o' the Lady Liberia's Opinion, and am apt to think, if you were to take my Lord Bellario for one Month upon liking, you'd be willing enough afterwards to have him bound for Life.

Lucil.

Silence, Blockhead.

Jocu.

O, with all my Heart, Madam; I thought I was oblig'd by my Post to advise in things of this Consequence, but I'll be more sparing both of my Counsel and Wit for the future— Hugh! hugh!