John Carrington [1739], The modern receipt: or, A Cure for Love. A comedy. Altered from Shakespeare. With Original Poems, Letters &c. (Printed for the Author, London) [word count] [S35300].
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The modern receipt: or, A Cure for Love.
note
Introductory matter
TO Mr. D. Bellamy jun.
Dear SIR,
My Inability of returning the
many Favours, I have receiv'd
from you, is the chief Inducement
of my laying the following
Sheets under your Protection.
It may appear somewhat strange, that
I should endeavour to acquit myself
of my former Obligations to you, by
desiring you to add one more to the
Number. But as the greatest Happiness
of a generous Soul, is to enjoy an Opportunity
of obliging; I doubt not, but
with your usual good Nature, you will
readily excuse my taking this Method
of expressing my Gratitude, and receive
-- --
under your Care an Infant Muse, which
owes to you, if not her Birth, at least
her nicest Instruction, and most happy
Improvements.
If my Success has been equal to my
Wish, and Endeavours, and you think
the following Pieces (in some measure) not
unworthy the Patronage, they seek from
you, I shall look upon it as no inconsiderable
Addition to the Happiness I some
Times enjoy, in being permitted to
subscribe myself,
Your most obedient,
and obliged,
humble Servant,
J. C.
-- --
PREFACE.
I am at a Loss what Excuse to make,
both to myself, and the World, for exposing
the following Sheets to the Perusal
of an impartial Reader: All I
can offer is, that they are the Product
of a few leisure Hours, designed only
for my private Amusement, and never intended to
be made Publick in any Shape whatever; but the
Complaisance of some Gentlemen, whom I am willing
to flatter myself so far, as to call my Friends,
has, in a Manner, enticed me into an Opinion of
them, and betray'd me into an Error, of which
few perhaps, of my Readers, will find themselves
inclinable to acquit me. I own the Task, I have
undertaken, is full of Dangers, and must appear
bold, and sanguine; since, from the Nature of Alterations,
every one will readily expect to find my
great Original in a Dress more agreeable, and
becoming, than any he has hitherto appeared in:
That this was the Ground of my Undertaking, no
one, I think, will dispute; how far I have succeeded
in it, is not for me to determine; I have at least the
Satisfaction of knowing, I did my endeavour to be
at once just to my Author, and Reader; and, in order
to my better succeeding, made Choice of a Play,
the most proper for my Design, as being chiefly different
from the reigning Taste, and least conspicuous
for modern Beauties.
It has been a very common Remark of the Alterers,
and Imitators of Shakespeare, that they have
grossly neglected his Beauties, and too frequently copied,
or reserved his Deformities. I have endeavoured
-- --
to avoid this Imputation as much as possible;
and if, at least, I have omitted any of his most
shining Passages, I will ingenuously confess it to be
owing to my Want of Judgment in distinguishing
them. I have taken the Liberty to make some Alterations
in the Plot, and Catastrophe, as well as
in great Part of the Language; the Character of
Hillario is entirely new, as is that of Marcellus, in
a great Measure.
I have nothing more to add with Regard to the
following Pieces, but to beg the Reader to peruse
them with as much Candour, and good Nature, as
possible: To the judicious Critick I submit them with
Pleasure; he will not refuse me a fair Trial; and,
if I then fall, it will be without Reluctance, or
Concern. As for those Gentlemen, whom (I will
not say Envy) but an ill-manner'd, unmanly Malice,
provokes to pointless Satire, I hope they will pardon
me, if I think them not worth offering an Excuse
to; but wrapping myself in the happy Content of
the divine Horace, express my Respect for them in
his beautiful Lines.
Men' moveat cimex Pantilius: aut crucier quod
Vellicat absentem Demetrius: aut quod ineptus
Fannius, Hermogenis lædat conviva Tigelli?
Plotius, & Varius, Mæcenas, Virgiliusque,
Valgius, & probet hæc Octavius optimus.
I cannot be guilty of so much Injustice as to conclude,
without observing, that I owe some of the best Scenes
in the Play, with Part of the Letters, &c. to a
Gentleman, whose Friendship I look upon as one of
the greatest Blessings of my Life; as also, a few of
the poetical Pieces, viz. the Epigram on Bromia;
on Death; Song to Amanda; Burlesque on Miss
S&wblank;n, &c. to another, to whom I am no less obliged,
and for whom I shall always, with Pleasure, acknowledge
the greatest Esteem, and Respect.
-- --
A List of the Subscribers.
A
Mr. Samuel Abson, of St. John's College, Cambridge.
Mr. James Ashley, Ludgate-Hill.
Mr. William Allen, Mitcham, Surrey.
Mr. William Anderson, Aldermanbury.
Mr. William Adkins.
B.
Thomas Plummer Byde, Esq; of Pembroke-Hall, Cambridge.
William Bryan, Esq; Bury St. Edmonds.
Mr. Dan. Bellamy, of St. John's Col. Oxf. 2 Books.
Mr. Daniel Bellamy, of Trin. Col. Cambridge, 6 Books.
Mrs. Martha Bellamy, Kingston, Surrey.
Miss Lois Bellamy.
Mr. John Banks of Sidney. Sussex Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Bedford, of Sid. Sus. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Samuel Birch, of Sid. Sus. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. John Berridge, A. M. of Clare-hall, Cambridge.
Mr. P. Bringloe, A. B. of Gonvil, and Caius Col. Cambridge.
Mr. &wblank; Brook, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Charles Bird of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Brockett, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. Richard Baldwin, Bookseller, in St. Paul's Church-Yard, 6 Books.
Mr. Robert Baldwin.
Mr. John Bottrel, Doctors-Commons, 6 Books.
Mr. John Batty.
Miss Martha Blackbourn.
Mr. William Blackbourn.
Mr. John Blackbourn.
Mr. &wblank; Beaumont, of Oxf.
Mr. Thomas Butler.
Mr. Ephraim Bell.
Mr. Thomas Brayley, Surgeon, Mitcham, Surrey.
Mr. Gilbert Beasly, Westham, Essex.
Mr. Richard Boult.
Mr. Osb. Barwell.
Mrs. Rebecca Banks.
Mr. &wblank; Ball, Bury St. Edmonds.
C.
John Carrington, Esq; Alderman of the Town of Cambridge.
Captain James Carrington.
Mr. Joseph Carrington.
Mr. George Carrington.
Mr. Samuel Chitty, Thames-Street, 2 Books.
Mr. Henry Chitty, New-Ormond-Street.
Mr. William Cave, Fellow of St. John's Col. Oxf. 2 Books.
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Mr. Thomas Carlyon, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. William Cantrell, of St. John's Col. Camb.
Mr. Burk Cuppage, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. John Cayley, of Jesus Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Thomas Calvert, of Christ's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Car, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Henry Close, of Sid. Sus. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Thomas Collis, A. B. of St. John's Col. Oxford.
Mr. John Casberd, of St. John's Col. Oxf.
Mr. Richard Church, Organist of New Col. Oxf.
Mr. John Crank.
Mr. &wblank; Comber, Richmond, Surrey.
Mr. William Chambers.
Mr. &wblank; Colt.
Mr. John Crow.
D.
William Duncombe, Esq;
Andrew Ducarrel, Esq;
James Ducarrel, Esq;
Adrian Ducarrel, Esq;
Mr. Charles Dickinson, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. James Dance, Commoner, of St. John's College, Oxford.
Mr. Isaac Davies, of C. C. C. Camb.
Mr. John Julien Debarry.
Mr. John Draper, Upper Tooting, Surrey.
Mr. Joseph Dyer.
Mr. Joseph Drake of Oxf.
Mr. Silas Duncombe, Doctors-Commons.
Mr. John Dewilde, Old-Baily.
Mr. Isaac Del-Valle.
Mr. Edward Dymock, 6 Books.
E.
Mr. John Ellis, of Jesus Col. Cambridge.
Mrs. Ann Eglington.
F.
Mr. George Foss, of Sid. Sus. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. James Fortrye, Fellow Commoner of Pemb. Hall. Cambridge.
Mr. Richard Fowler, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. George Farran, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Francis Fisher, of Exeter College, Oxford.
Mr. Richard Farmer, Newgate-Market.
Mr. John Fuller, Westham, Essex.
Me. Josias Farrer, Doctors-Commons.
G.
Mr. Mark Gratton, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. Dunham Gaines, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. John Gay, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. George Gostling, Proctor, in Doctors Commons.
Mrs. Martha Gamble.
Mr. John Grover, junior, Whitehall.
Mrs. Grove, Bury St. Edmonds.
-- --
H.
Mr. Hugh Hughes, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Robert Hunter, of Sid. Sus. Col, Cambridge.
Mr. Richard Haines.
Mr. John Hawkins.
Mr. Henry Horne.
Mrs. Mary Hall.
Mr. Joseph Heyward.
Mrs. Susannah Holland.
Mr. William Humphreys.
Mr. William Hulls.
Mr. Barthol. Hemsworth.
Mr. George Heyter.
Mr. Tho. Higgins, of Camb.
I.
Mr. Edward Jeffreys, A. B. of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
M. John Jembelin, of Trin. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. Richard Jenour, of St. Peter's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Matthew Jenour, Giltspur-Street.
Mr. Francis Jambelin.
Mr. John Jennings, Westham, Essex.
Mr. &wblank; Ince, 6 Books.
Mr. John Impey, Holbourn.
K.
Mr. Thomas Knight.
L.
Mr. William Lloyd, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Thomas Langstaff, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Thomas Langley.
Mr. James Lampriere.
M.
John Murden, Esq;
Miss Elizabeth Midwinter.
Mr. Edward Moises, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Pilkington Morgan, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Milner, Esq; Fellow Commoner, of Trin. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. John Martin.
Mr. Oglander Myngs.
Mr. Samuel Mills.
Mr. Robert Morse, Mitcham, 6 Books.
Mr. James Morse, Mitcham, Surrey.
Mr. Henry Monnier.
Mr. William Merryfield.
N.
Mr. John Nursaw, A. B. of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Groves Niblet, of Mitcham, Surrey.
O.
Mr. Marcellus Osborne, Fellow-Commoner, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
P.
Mr. John Pemberton, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. John Peel, of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. John Phelp, of St. John's College, Oxford.
Mrs. Mary Price, 6 Books.
Mr. Charles Price, Clement's-Inn.
Mr. Crommelin Pigou.
Mr. Peter Pigou.
Mr. Frederick Pigou.
Mr. John Pindleburg.
Mr. William Paunsfoot.
R.
William Roberts, Esq;
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Thomas Rolls, Esq; 2 Books.
Richard Rawlinson, L. L. D.
Peter Richardson, Esq; of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. &wblank; Radley, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Robinson, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
S.
Mr. Joseph Sabine, of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Sawyer Smith, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Strahan, of Trin. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. John Smith, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Mr. John Saunders, A. B. and Fellow of St. John's Col. Oxford.
Mr. Rich. Stayes, M. B. and Organist, of Mag. Col. Oxf.
Mr. &wblank; Simpson, 6 Books.
Mr. Paul Stevens, 6 Books.
Mr. Richard Sclater.
Mrs. Ann Smith.
Mr. Benjamin Seele.
Mr. Robert Saseby.
Mr. Paul Savignac, Mitcham, Surrey.
Mr. James Smith.
Mr. Richard Simpson.
Mr. John Stoor.
T.
The Honourable Edward Townshend, Esq; Fellow Commoner of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. George Tilson, A. B. of Trin. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Topham, of Sid. Sus. Col. Cambridge.
Mr. William Turner, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Thomas Troutbeck of Sid. Sus. Col. Camb.
Mr. Chris. Taylor, 6 Books.
Mr. John Tomlin.
Mr. Jacob Taylor.
Mrs. Mary Tibs.
Mr. Robert Theobald, Mourden, Surrey.
Mr. George Thicknesse.
U.
Mr. Thomas Ubank.
W.
Mr. John Wibbersley, of St. John's Col. Camb.
Mr. Thomas Wingfield, of St. John's Col. Cambridge.
Mr. Job Wallis, of Pemb. Hall, Cambridge.
Thomas Welham, Gent.
John Warral, Gent.
Mr. John Walker, 6 Books.
Mr. Robert Washbourne, St. John's Col. Oxford.
Mr. Thomas Weales, of St. John's Col. Oxford.
Mrs. Sarah Whiten.
Miss Frances Wightwick.
Mr. Walter Williams.
Miss Jemima Werden.
Miss Mary Walker.
Mr. John Willis.
Mr. Thomas Watson.
Mr. Arthur Walter.
Mr. Willoughby Warren.
Mr. Henry Wood.
Miss Elizabeth Wood, Bury St. Edmonds.
Y.
Mr. Samuel Yeomans.
-- --
TO THE Lovers of both Sexes.
Gentlemen, and Ladies,
I beg Leave to throw the following Work
under your Protection: The particular Regard,
I have ever maintained for you, together
with the Consideration, how much
it would be your Interest to support, and countenance, a
Piece, so manifestly calculated for your private Use and
Advantage, would not permit me to think of leaving your
joint Patronage uncourted.
As I have always had the Good of Mankind in general,
and of your Sect in particular, next my Heart, I
thought I could not employ too much Time, and Study,
to supply you with a Thing so universally necessary, as
A Cure for Love.
'Tis true, Gentlemen, and Ladies, the World looks
upon you as the most happy, as well as most considerable
Part of its Community: But—Fronti nulla Fides,—I beg
the Ladies Pardon—I mean the World may be mistaken;
and every one, who has been a Lover, knows how dearly
-- --
he would sometimes be glad to purchase, what I have
here laid before you.
Having exceedingly travell'd in the high Road of Love,
especially the theoretick Part of it, I find, as well from
the Consent of Authors, both antient, and modern, as
from speculative Consideration, this to be, if not the only
one, the most effectual Remedy for that epidemical Disease:
'Tis true, Ill-nature, bad Teeth, and the Small-Pox,
may go a great Way; but, after the Pains, and Expence,
I have been at in examining, and inquiring into
the Nature of the Thing, I think I may venture to pronounce
no Man really, actually, and absolutely cur'd,
restor'd, and plac'd in statu quo, till he has been—
married, at least—three Months;—the same may be
plicable to the Ladies.
Thus much for the Subject of your Patronage. But I
cannot err so grosly against the Nature of Epistles Dedicatory,
as to confine all my Flattery to myself, and my
Works; nor be guilty of so much Injustice, as to conclude
without taking notice of those many Virtues, you actually
(do, or ought to) possess. Not to mention certain requisite
Qualifications, such as a good Skin, a sweet Breath,
Skill in Dancing, &c. give me leave to observe, that Patience,
Complaisance, compleat Knowledge of the most
fashionable Expletives, Grace in Swearing, Absence of
Thought, Fondness for Solitude, and Soliloquy, an inexhaustible
Fund of eloquent Nonsense; with ten thousand
other Perfections, which it is impossible for me to enumerate,
or express, are, I may say, your distinguishing
and inherent Properties; and almost as inseparable from a
thorough Lover, as the Image, and Idea of his darling
Flame.
In short, Gentlemen and Ladies, under the Patronage,
and Protection of so numerous, and respected a Part of
-- --
the polite World, I expect to live till Time shall be no
more; and that Ages, buried far within its distant Womb,
shall be no Strangers to the Fame of him, who (by the
Way) places it all in being permitted to subscribe himself
with all Reverence, Respect, and Submission,
Gentlemen, and Ladies,
Your most obedient,
Most devoted,
Most oblig'd,
Humble Servant,
And Admirer;
(Not to say)
Affectionate Brother, &c.
-- --
PROLOGUE.
Our Author fears, in this malignant Age,
To risque his first Attempt upon the Stage;
He says, Ill-nature's there too much in Fashion;
And the poor Man cou'd never bear Damnation:
I bad him lay these idle Fears aside;
Told him Success was like a blushing Bride,
That yields to Force alone her blooming Charms,
And must be courted to her Lover's Arms;
I try'd what Arguments I could to win him;
But all in vain; I think the Devil's in him:
He say's, he'll first a safer Method prove,
And by Degrees, to greater Hazards move:
A bashful Fool, I wonder what he writ for!
These modest Poets, Lord, what are they fit for!
Give me the Bards, and such there are I think,
Whose dauntless Souls will at no Dangers shrink;
Whom Hisses scare not, Cat-calls threat in vain;
Who write and fail, and fail and write again:
Who can a falling Tragedy survive,
And try next Week how Comedy will thrive;
Who risque their Character to raise a Name,
And thro' Damnation boldly strike at Fame.
Besides,—says I,—you are not sure of failing;
Try;—if you're damn'd—why—please yourself with railing:
Perhaps you may a softer Treatment find;
The Town will to itself, at least, be kind:
The Piece to some small Merit may pretend,
And, what they like, they'll certainly defend.
To live, he with a scornful Smile reply'd,
Where oft so many braver Men have dy'd;
I must indeed be Fortune's darling Minion.
And,—now I think on't—I'm of his Opinion;
For, after all, on Stages, I'm afraid
Few can be sav'd, where damning is the Trade.
-- --
See what you Criticks of the Pit can do.
This Loss, if such it be, we owe to you:
Then say, ye dread Monopolists of Wit,
Who Lords supream in Playhouse Causes sit;
Who flock in Raptures on an Author's Day,
To feast your Spleen upon his mangled Play;
And, good, or bad, most bravely scorn to spare it;
Which of you all is ready to repair it?
No;—let pedantick Fools in Writing drudge,
It is enough a Man of Parts can judge.
Why there now; you to make our Hardships greater,
Damn what we have,—and never give us better.
Our prudent Author, to elude your Spite,
Wisely retires, and glories in his Flight;
He thinks all Dangers o'er in shunning you;
But—there are Criticks in the Closet too:
To these, he says, he'll boldly trust his Play;
They would not damn him for the World—not they:
Kind Souls!—I'll warrant they no Malice know:—
Well—after all I wish he finds it so.
To these however we must now address us,
Then do not rashly in our Bloom oppress us;
'Tis the first Sally,—wou'd you but befriend it,
Perhaps uext Year the Gentleman may mend it:
To you he humbly doth his Cause submit,
Resolv'd to stand or fall as you think fit;
He sues for Favour;—(Criticks must be flatter'd)
And begs you—if you can—to be good-natur'd.
-- --
Dramatis Personæ.
MEN.
Frederick, Lawful Duke of Liege, but deposed and
banished by his Brother Ferdinand.
Marcellus, A sullen, morose Lord; a great Woman. Hater, but at length in Love with Julia.
Antonio, A Nobleman attending on the Duke.
Leonati, A Nobleman of Liege.
Vincentio, His Brother, in Love with Camilla.
Hillario, A merry Courtier, attending on the Princesses.
Fidelio, Servant to Vincentio.
A Shepherd.
WOMEN.
Camilla, Daughter to Duke Frederick, in Love with Vincentio.
Julia, Daughter to Duke Ferdinand, in Love with Marcellus.
Lords, Gentlemen, Attendants, Messenger, &c.
[Servant], [Lord 1], [Lord], [Gentleman]
SCENE, during the first Act, in Liege in Germany; all the rest of the Play in the Forest of Arden.
-- 1 --
THE MODERN RECEIPT: OR, A CURE for LOVE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
SCENE Leonati's Garden.
Vincentio follow'd by Fidelio.
FIDELIO.
It is with some Concern, my Lord, that
I have observ'd so great an Alteration
in you of late; your usual Gaiety, and
Fire is vanish'd, and you seem buried in
Thought, and Discontent. I have liv'd
long in your Family—have serv'd your Father faithfully,
and I hope have not given you Reason to complain
since I had the Honour to attend you. Perhaps it may
yet be in my Power to be of Service to you, at least
in my Advice, Pray'rs, and Wishes. May I beg to
know the Cause of your Melancholy?
-- 2 --
VINCENTIO.
I was thinking, Fidelio, on the Injustice of those
Laws, that deprive a Man of the Pleasures, nay, almost
the Necessaries of Life, for no other Fault than being
born a little too late. I must confess, I think we younger
Brothers are but indifferently dealt by: Here's myself
might pass with some for a tolerable well-made
young Fellow, and I think myself as able to spend an
Estate in a gentile Manner as ever an elder Brother in
Germany: And yet, because an unnatural, ill-manner'd
Clown happen'd to tumble into the World the same
Way with myself, only about ten or twelve Months
sooner; I, forsooth, must owe my Subsistence to his
Bounty, and think myself oblig'd to him for an Education
worse than is bestow'd on his meanest Vassal.
Say, Fidelio, have I not Reason for my Melancholy?
FIDELIO.
Ah, Sir! had my old Lord liv'd, we shou'd have no
Room for these Complaints.—You know he always lov'd
you with a more than ordinary Fondness, and had we
had fair Play—I have a strange Notion Things wou'd
not have been as they are. However, Sir, by your
Brother's own Confession, he has a thousand Crowns in
Trust, which your Father bequeath'd you to equip you
for the World like a Gentleman.
VINCENTIO.
Ah, Fidelio, a thousand Crowns will go but a little
Way tow'rds making a Gentleman, as Gentility goes
now-a-days.—'Tis said, indeed, he order'd my Brother
on his Death-bed, to give me an Education suitable to
my Birth. Marry, has he not? While ev'ry noble
Youth is gaining Knowledge in his Closet, or Honour
in the Field; I must be kept at Home to look after his
Lordship's Hounds and Horses; nay, faith, sometimes
-- 3 --
his Hogs. A polite Education, I must confess, and fit
for the Son of the great Ernesto. In short, Fidelio, I begin
to be tir'd of this Usage; the Spirit of my Father
works strongly in me, and mutinies against this Servitude.
—I can endure it no longer, but must find some
Means to free myself from this Slavery.
FIDELIO.
Hush, Sir, here's my Lord, your Brother, coming
into the Garden.
VINCENTIO.
'Tis as I wish'd: Step aside, good Fidelio, and thou
shalt see a Specimen of his brotherly Affection.
SCENE II.
Vincentio, Leonati, (Fidelio apart.)
VINCENTIO.
Good Morning, my Lord Brother.
Leonati.
How now, Sir! What make you here?
VINCENTIO.
Nothing, Sir. I have not been taught to make any
Thing,—I thank your Lordship.
LEONATI.
What mar you then?
VINCENTIO.
Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar, what God
made, e'en a poor younger Brother of yours, with Idleness.
-- 4 --
LEONATI.
Methinks, Sir, you might be better employ'd.
VINCENTIO.
I know not where, unless you'll give me Husks, and
send me into your Hogsty.—Brother! Brother! how
have I deserv'd this Usage? What prodigal Portion have
I spent, that I should come to such Penury?
LEONATI.
How, Sir! Know you where you are?
VINCENTIO.
Oh, very well: Here, in your Lordship's Garden.
LEONATI.
Know you before whom, Sir?
VINCENTIO.
Ay; better than he I am before knows me.—Nay,
frown not;—come, come, I know you are my elder
Brother, and that the Courtesy of Nations makes you
by that Title my Superior:—But yet it does not take
from me my Share in our great Father's Blood;—I
am thy Brother still, and tho' a Thousand had been
born between us, am as much Ernesto's Son as you:—
Tho', I must confess, your stepping into the World
before me, sets you a little nearer to his Reverence.
LEONATI,
How, now! Do'st thou insult me, Boy?
VINCENTIO.
By Heaven, I scorn it; but I must tell you, elder
Brother, I can no longer bear this shameful Treatment;
use me as becomes you, or you shall find this Arm can
do me Justice.
[Seizing him.
LEONATI,
Wilt thou lay Hands on me, Villain?
-- 5 --
VINCENTIO,
I am no Villain, but the Son of great Ernesto, and
he is thrice a Villain, that says such a Father begot Villains.
—Wer't thou not my Brother, I wou'd not take this
Hand from off thy Throat till the other had pluck'd out
thy accursed Tongue for saying it—Thy Scandal on thy
Head.
[Loosing him.
FIDELIO coming up.
Sweet Sirs, be patient, for your Father's Sake;—
remember where you are.
LEONATI.
Leave me, I say.
VINCENTIO.
I will not till I please, for you shall hear me,
Nay, you shall mind me too, by Heaven you shall;
Our dying Father charg'd you on his Blessing
To tender me a noble Education,
And suited to my Quality and Birth;
How ill have you obey'd him!—no servile Hind,
That labours daily for a poor Subsistence,
But boasts a better Knowledge.—Do me Justice,
Or by my Father's Soul you shall repent it:
Maintain me in a Manner that becomes
Ernesto's Son, or give me the poor Fortune
My Father with his dying Breath bequeath'd me,
And I shall learn to trouble you no more.
LEONATI.
Well, Sir, I shall consider of it; I assure you I shall
think of some Way to set us both at Ease:—I pray
you for the present leave me.
-- 6 --
VINCENTIO.
I shall, Sir; and when you learn to use me like a
Brother, I shall learn with humble Duty to respect you
as becomes me. Farewel, Sir.
SCENE III.
Leonati, Fidelio.
LEONATI.
And you, Sir, with your very ceremonious Face,
be pleas'd to walk after him.
FIDELIO.
Yes, Sir, I shall go after him, or any where to shun
such Inhumanity. Had my old Master liv'd, you durst
not, nor wou'd he, have us'd him thus.
SCENE IV.
LEONATI alone.
Is it come to this? Do you begin to grow upon me,
young Gentleman? I shall find a Way to physick
your Rankness, and not part with the thousand Crowns,
I believe.
-- 7 --
SCENE V.
The Palace.
Julia, Camilla.
JULIA.
Pr'ythee, dear Camilla, be merry.
CAMILLA.
Alas, my Julia, I already shew more Mirth than I
am Mistress of: Unless I could forget my own, and my
poor banish'd Father's Injuries, Pleasure can find no
Charms for me.
JULIA,
Thou wrong'st me much, Camilla; for, believe me,
had thy Father reign'd, and mine been banish'd, so
thou had'st still been with me, I shou'd have taught
myself to forget him; and so woud'st thou if thy Respect
for me bore any Semblance of my Love for you.
CAMILLA.
Well, Cousin, I shall try to forget my own Fortune,
and rejoice in yours. Oh Frederick!
JULIA.
You know my Father hath no other Child, and when
he dies, to me his Crown descends: Believe me, dear
Camilla, you shall wear it, and what Force took from
thy Father, Love shall render thee again;—therefore,
once more, my dear Coz, my sweet Camilla, be
merry.
CAMILLA.
I'm sorry, Cousin, my ill-manner'd Grief shou'd make
me troublesome, and here I throw it off: Henceforward
-- 8 --
all our Employment shall be to devise new Sports, to
make our Time pass on agreeably.
JULIA.
That's kindly said.—Come, pr'ythee, let's about it
instantly.
CAMILLA.
With all my Heart. Come then, what think you
of falling in Love?
JULIA.
Oh! the best Thing in the World, provided you
don't do it in Earnest. Love no Man in Earnest, Child,
nor farther in Jest than you may safely, and without a
Blush come off of; it may be dangerous.
CAMILLA.
I pray do you invent then; what shall be the Sport?
JULIA.
Marry, we'll sit, and mock Dame Fortune from her
Wheel, that from henceforth her Gifts may be distributed
more equally.
CAMILLA.
Wou'd we cou'd!—for in my Opinion, the blind Lady
is mighty apt to mistake in her Favourites.
JULIA.
Indeed I think so too, and begin to be quite tir'd of
her Partiality; but I think she's most apt to mistake in
her Gifts to the Ladies.
CAMILLA.
Why so Julia?
JULIA.
Why to those that are fair she seldom gives Virtue,
and the Virtuous have rarely a large Stock of Beauty.
-- 9 --
CAMILLA.
Nay, now Cousin you are mistaken, and wander
from Fortune's Office to Nature's. Fortune reigns in the
Gifts of the World, and not in the Lineaments of Nature.
And perhaps she may not be so much in Fault
neither, for I am afraid a great many of the homely
are only virtuous, because they have no Opportunity
of being otherwise.
JULIA.
You are keen, Cousin.—But who have we here?—
Oh! 'tis Hillario.
CAMILLA.
With his Mouth full of News.
SCENE VI.
To them Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Oh Ladies!—
JULIA, and CAMILLA.
Oh Hillario!—
(interrupting him.)
HILLARIO.
Nay, how cruel that is now to put a Man out just in
the Beginning of his Story.
CAMILLA.
'Twas a little unkind, I must confess; but what was
it you was so eager to tell us?
-- 10 --
HILLARIO.
Pshaw! you interrupted me, and put it quite out of my
Head.
CAMILLA.
Shall I help you out?—I prophesy it was News.
JULIA.
Some Lady perhaps run away with her Footman,
HILLARIO.
No.
CAMILLA.
Has Philantus left off gaming?
JULIA.
Is Lord Proteus married?
CAMILLA.
Or has Count Horatio paid his Debts?
HILLARIO.
Neither; but to save you the Trouble of guessing any
longer, I come to tell you, you have lost much Sport.
JULIA.
Sport, you say?
HILLARIO.
Ay, Madam.
CAMILLA.
Of what Colour?
HILLARIO.
Colour, Madam!—How shall I answer you?—
CAMILLA.
As Wit and Fortune will.
JULIA.
Or as the Destinies decree.
CAMILLA.
Or e'en just as you please.
-- 11 --
HILLARIO.
(after looking first on one, and then t'other for some Time.
You amaze me, Ladies.—All, that I can say is, that
there was a Tilt held to Day before the Duke, and you
have lost the Sight of it.
JULIA.
Tell us the Manner of it then.
HILLARIO.
I'll tell you the Beginning, and if your Ladyships
please you may see the End, for the best is all to come.
CAMILLA.
Begin then; we are attentive.
HILLARIO.
There comes an old Man with his three Sons.—
JULIA.
An excellent Beginning for a Winter's Tale.
HILLARIO.
Three tall, proper, handsome, gentile, well-made
young Fellows, as you shall see in a Summer's Day.
CAMILLA.
At Court on a Birth-Night, or in the Front Box at
an Opera.
HILLARIO.
The Eldest marches boldly into the Lists to fight with
Dumain the famous French Fencer.—Dumain advances
tow'rds him;—after a slight Pass or two—gives
him a Thrust in Quart,—as thus;—whips him an Inch
into the Sword Arm, and sends him bleeding to the
Surgeons.
CAMILLA.
Poor Gentleman!
-- 12 --
HILLARIO.
The Second he serv'd much after the same Manner;—
only that was in Tierce, I think;—let me see;—Aye,
aye, 'twas thus,—But the third—
JULIA.
Aye Hillario, the Third!—what of him?
HILLARIO.
Why after a Traverse or two, the young Gentleman's
Sword flew from the Hilt; upon which Dumain generously
threw away his and clos'd with him,—and happening
to be a little too strong for him, pitch'd him
fairly over the Tilt-Rail, and broke three of his Ribs;—
Yonder he lies,—and looks so sheepish, methinks;—
and the poor old Man mourns over him so dolefully,—
I protest 'twould do one's Heart good to hear him.
JULIA.
I pity him with all my Heart. But pry'thee, Hillario,
what is the Sport, we have lost?
HILLARIO.
Why—this, that I have been telling you of.
CAMILLA.
Well, see now how one may live and learn; I protest
this is the first Time I ever heard that breaking
Ribs was Sport for Ladies.
JULIA.
Or I either, I promise you. But come Cousin, shall
we go and see the Remainder of Hillario's Sport?
HILLARIO.
It will be worth your while, I assure you;—but you
must make haste, for it is much about the Time of the
Onset.
(A Flourish of Trumpets.)
-- 13 --
JULIA.
Hark, is not that the Summons?
HILLARIO.
It is; come Ladies, for Heaven's Sake—I wou'd not
lose the Sight on't for the World.
CAMILLA.
Lead on then without Ceremony.
(As they go out Camilla drops a Bracelet.)
SCENE VII.
Re-enter HILLARIO.
Pox on't—how unlucky this is? I shall lose all
the Sport.—S'death, cou'd she find no other Time
to lose her Bracelet in, but just when one is busy?—
(Trumpets without.)
Hark!—Aye, they're at it i'faith—
Wou'd the Devil had this Bracelet, I can't find it high,
nor low. (Shout) So: There's Surgeons Work of one
Side or t'other, I suppose.—Was ever such a blind Puppy?
here's the Bawble just under my Nose all the while—
And I am much the better for finding it now:—for all
is over, I imagine—(Shout without Vincentio, &c.)—
Aye, 'tis so, and by that Shout our young Champion
should have got the Day. I'll in and see, however.—
Eh, Pox of the Bracelet.
-- 14 --
SCENE VIII.
(As from the Tilt) Vincentio (People passing over the Stage.)
VINCENTIO.
What should this mean? His Highness seems displeas'd
At my Success: After the Fight he call'd
To ask my Name, and Family; of which
When I inform'd him, strait he frown'd, and said
He wish'd I had told him of another Father:
So do not I; by Heaven I'm proud to be
Ernesto's Son, and wou'd not change that Name
To be the Heir of haughty Ferdinand.
SCENE IX.
Vincentio, Camilla, Lucia, and Hillario.
JULIA.
Were I my Father, wou'd I have done thus?
Hillario talks apart with Vincentio.
CAMILLA.
My Father lov'd Ernesto as his Soul, and he was held
-- 15 --
in high Esteem by all, who knew his Worth. Had I before
the Tilt known that Vincentio was Ernesto's Son, I
shou'd have giv'n him Tears unto Intreaties e'er he
should so have ventur'd.
JULIA.
But come, Camilla,To-day he was our Champion, and
we ought to thank him;—perhaps it may be some poor
Satisfaction to him for the Unkindness of the Duke
my Father.—Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Madam.
JULIA.
Say to the Gentleman, if he's at Leisure, we would
exchange a Word or two with him.
HILLARIO.
The Princesses, Sir, would speak with you.
(To Vincentio)
VINCENTIO.
Your Pleasure, Ladies?
JULIA.
To thank you, Sir: You've well deserv'd to Day,
And, were it in my Power, your Reward
Had been proportion'd better to your Merit.
CAMILLA.
Wear this for me, Sir; (giving him a Bracelet) all a
wretched Maid can give;—my Fortunes have been
better.
Julia and Camilla retire
VINCENTIO (after a Pause.)
Where am I? Lost in Tides of new-blown Joy
I have not Power to bless the Hand that raises me;
My panting Soul fled from me as she spoke,
And nought remains but a poor lifeless Coarse.
CAMILLA (returning.)
Did he not call us back?—My Pride fell with my
-- 16 --
Fortunes, I'll ask him what he wou'd;—Said you,
Sir?
VINCENTIO.
Lady?
CAMILLA.
You have fought well To-day, and overcome more
than your Enemies.
JULIA.
Come, Cousin, will you walk?
CAMILLA.
Aye. Farewel, Sir.
VINCENTIO.
My best of Wishes follow you!—
(Vincentio stands looking after them.)
SCENE X.
Vincentio, Hillario (apart.)
HILLARIO.
Troth he's a good proper Gentleman, when all
is done,—and I'm much mistaken if somebody
else does not think so as well as myself:—There's
something more than ordinary in his being sent for by
the Princesses:—He'll be a rising Man no doubt of it:—
Faith I think I'd best make my court to him. Mercy on
us, what a Posture he's fix'd in!—But mum, he recovers.
VINCENTIO.
What passion hangs these Weights upon my Tongue!—
I cou'd not speak to her, yet she urg'd Conference—
-- 17 --
She's gone;—but oh! her Image is too firmly
Fix'd in my Heart e'er to be torn from thence.
HILLARIO.
Poor, Gentleman! it's all over with him.—Well, I
shall find a Time, and this will be News for the Ladies;
I'll e'en leave him to himself.
SCENE XI.
Vincentio, and Gentleman.
GENTLEMAN.
The Princesses, Sir, in Friendship, will you to
quit the City instantly; for although you have
well deserv'd the Friendship, Praise, and Love of Ferdinand,
yet such is his Condition, that he misconstrues
all, that you have done, and weighs your Virtues in an
envious Ballance.—Your cruel Brother too attempts your
Life by secret Means.—Speed quickly from the City.—
A Moment's Dalliance may be dangerous.
VINCENTIO.
Bear to the Princesses my gentlest Thanks,
And say I am in humble Duty bound
To bless them ever.—Pray you, Sir, inform me
Which of the two is Daughter to the Duke.
GENTLEMAN.
The Shorter:—The other's Daughter to Lord
Frederick, and here detain'd by her usurping Uncle
to keep the Princess Company. She stands fair in
all Men's Love, both for her Father's Virtues, and
-- 18 --
her own. 'Tis thought the Duke has conceiv'd a Hatred
against her, which will not long lie smother'd. Farewel,
Sir; your Affairs forbid a longer Conference.—If
ever we meet hereafter, I shall desire more Love and
Knowledge of you.
VINCENTIO.
I rest much bounden to you, Sir.—Farewel.
SCENE XII.
VINCENTIO (alone.)
I must leave Liege.—Well, be it so then.—What
are the Charms, that should detain me here? No, let
me fly, and in some friendly Desart, hide me from the
ungenerous World. There I shall be free from the Rage
of an impious Usurper, and the Malice of an unnatural
Brother.—And is that all?—If so, why do I loiter,
and fear to move as though I rush'd on death?—Sure
something whispers me I've still an Interest here;—
Camilla's Charms!—But what of her?—Down my
aspiring Soul, and meditate a Theme more suited to my
lost, my wretched Fortune.—And yet, methinks I'm
not forbid to hope; he is a Wretch indeed that boasts not
that. There should be something in sending to inform
me of the Duke's Displeasure, and my Brother's Treachery.
—But all is hid within the mystic Book of Fate;
to that I'll trust my Fortune.—The same good Angel
that inspir'd her then may savour me still farther.
Smile Heav'n, and ev'ry Star propitious prove,
And what I've lost in Honour, let me gain in Love.
-- 19 --
SCENE XIII.
Julia, Camilla.
JULIA.
Why Cousin! Why Camilla! Cupid have Mercy,
not a Word?
CAMILLA.
What wou'd you have me say?
JULIA.
Any thing.—No matter what.
CAMILLA.
Heigh ho!
(Sighing.)
JULIA.
Prettily sigh'd, I protest.—Pr'ythee Camilla, let's
have it over again.
CAMILLA.
Dear Julia, don't be so unmerciful.
JULIA.
Poor Cousin,—was it vex'd?—But it is all for thy
Father.
CAMILLA.
No, indeed, some of it is for my Father's Child.
Oh Vincentio!
JULIA.
Why you cannot be in earnest, surely?—Is it possible
you can have taken such a Liking to Vincentio on so
short a Knowledge?
CAMILLA.
My father lov'd his Father dearly.
-- 20 --
JULIA.
And for that Reason you must love his Father's Son.—
A very pretty Consequence.—By that Rule I shou'd
hate him, for I'm sure my Father hated his Father
dearly. Yet I cannot say I hate Vincentio.
CAMILLA.
No—do not hate him for my Sake.
JULIA.
Truly 'tis a pretty deserving Youth.
CAMILLA.
Well, I'll love him for that; and do you love him
because I do.
SCENE XIV.
Julia, Camilla, Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
(Laughs.)
CAMILLA.
How now, Hillario?
HILLARIO.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Oh my Sides, my Sides!
JULIA.
Why what's the Matter, Man?
HILLARIO.
Why? Ha! Ha! Ha!—Why—yonder's poor Lord
Maximin a sweating, and swearing, and chafing, as if
he had not an Hour to live.
CAMILLA.
Aye! how so?
-- 21 --
HILLARIO.
Why, you must know—but I should first have told
you, that the Duke for some secret Services had promis'd
him the first Post that fell near his Person. Now,
you know, the Lord Treasurer died about a Week ago—
upon which Maximin taking it for granted that he was
the Man, whips me up in his new Coach, lac'd Liveries,
doubles his Retinue, and hires a House to receive
the Compliments of his Friends, as though he were already
invested.
JULIA.
Well, what then?
CAMILLA.
His Highness (for some private Reasons, I suppose)
taking it in his Head that he had promis'd to serve a
certain Lady's Husband, sends for the Gentleman, invests
him privately, and had just finish'd the Ceremony
when Maximin begg'd Leave to kiss his Hand.—But to
see how the poor Devil look'd when he saw Mr. What-d'ye-call-um
there in the Chair—
JULIA.
Ha! ha! ha! Poor Maximin! I warrant the Gentleman
will take Pet, grow weary of the Court, fall in
Love with Retirement, and spend his Life in the Country.—
CAMILLA.
Till another Place offers. Ha! ha! ha!
HILLARIO.
Marry, I wish he does not go into a Convent—for he
turn'd to a certain fat intriguing Abbot, and whisper'd
him aloud, that he had so good an Opinion of his Conversation,
and Way of Living, that he had Thoughts of
putting himself under his Direction.
-- 22 --
CAMILLA.
A proper Place for Improvement!—I wou'd as soon
send my Son into England to learn French, or Holland to
acquire Politeness.
JULIA.
He's safe however in one particular; for if he gains
no Virtue there, he's sure of losing none.
CAMILLA.
Except it be that of sinning fairly, and appearing in
his own proper Character.
HILLARIO.
I believe the only Objection he has, is, that he does
not know readily what Religion to say he's of, should he
chance to be ask'd the Question.
JULIA.
A very grand Difficulty, indeed;—best go over to
England then, where it does not signify what he's of, or
whether of any, or no.
HILLARIO.
Why, truly, they are a good honest, heathenish Sort
of a People there, as I've heard—but for that Matter, I
believe we are not much behind-hand with them in that
Affair, any more than the rest of our Neighbours: But—
Ha! ha! ha! Look Lady Julia (Camilla appears Melancholy)
did ever Mortal see such a Romance in Folio?—
Why, Lady Camilla,—what's the Matter?—Why
you're as dull as an Atheist in a high Fever, or a Girl
of eighteen without a Lover.
CAMILLA.
I cannot always command my Temper, Hillario?—
I have Reason for my Melancholy.
HILLARIO.
Poor Lady!—I'll be hang'd if she be'nt in Love
now, if the Truth were known.—
-- 23 --
JULIA.
You have guest it, Hillario.
CAMILLA.
Believe her not, she's only merry with you.
JULIA.
Upon my Honour 'tis true.
HILLARIO.
And upon mine, I believe it:—Behold the Symptoms
—D'ye think to deceive me in such a Case as this?
Marry, then I've had all my Experience for nothing.—
Why I have been in Love myself, d'ye see, some forty
or fifty Times now.—
JULIA.
Oh the fickle Monster—not desperately, I presume.
HILLARIO.
Horribly, most intolerably—but once in particular—
Ah! that once! I protest I tremble with the very
Thoughts of it.—I was so far gone, that rhyming and
fighting were as natural to me as Lying to a Chambermaid,
or Intriguing to a pamper'd Friar:—Such Eyes!
such Lips! and such a Shape—O ye Gods!—
CAMILLA.
Poor Hillario! Why he's in Love yet.—
HILLARIO.
No, no, no, no: Hold there—I am some two or
three Stone better than a Man as much in Love as I
was.
(Clapping his Sides.)
JULIA.
Pr'ythee how got you cur'd then?
HILLARIO.
Why one Day being in a little better Spirits than ordinary,
I happen'd to say something that pleas'd my
Mistress—so what does me, I note but takes her in the critical
-- 24 --
Minute, whips her into the next Chapel, and marries
her, and the Devil take me if I ever lik'd her afterwards.
JULIA.
Ha! ha! ha!—A most excellent Remedy!—
HILLARIO.
A modern Receipt,—a modern Receipt.—But hold,
ho! Who have we here?
SCENE XV.
(To them) A Servant.
SERVANT.
Ladies, his Highness desires your Company in
his Chamber.
JULIA.
We'll attend him;—Come, Cousin,—and pray you
be chearful.
CAMILLA.
As chearful as I can, good Julia.
JULIA.
Come on then;—Farewel Lover.
HILLARIO.
Ladies your most obedient.
-- 25 --
SCENE XVI.
HILLARIO (alone.)
Aye, 'tis so; she has her Share on't, that's certain.
—Well, go thy Ways, Hillario; thou hast
a good Guess with thee, I'll say that for thee.—This
must be Work for me, I see.—I must after Vincentio,
and see him, if possible, before he leaves the City.—
He hardly knows me yet,—but he may be a good
Friend in Time, and let me alone to manage him.—
Besides, if he should be gone, and I know not where to
find him, we shall have the Devil to pay here;—such
sighing, and whimpering, and—Ha! what's here?
The Princesses return'd! They seem in Tears too, if I
mistake not.—What Mischief's a-foot now?
SCENE XVII.
(To him) Julia, Camilla.
CAMILLA.
Banish'd without the Knowledge of my Fault!
Injurious Uncle! how have I deserv'd it?
HILLARIO.
How said you, Lady? banish'd!
-- 26 --
CAMILLA.
Yes, Hillario.
Liege is too small for his ambitious Soul,
Much less to hold a Rival in his Greatness;
His Highness says, I am grown dangerous,
And bad me with my speediest Haste dispatch,
And leave the City; if To-morrow's Dawn
I'm found within the Limits of his Dukedom,
My forfeit Life must answer for the Fault.
HILLARIO.
Poor Lady!
CAMILLA.
When I begg'd to know the Reason,
He turn'd, and with a haughty Frown, reply'd,
I was my Father's Daughter.
HILLARIO.
Why so you was when Ferdinand depos'd him,
And Treason's not inherited.
CAMILLA.
If it were,
What's that to me? My Father was no Traitor,
HILLARIO.
No, in Faith was he not.—Why Lady Julia!
What not a Word?—Has Sorrow stol'n your Speech?
CAMILLA.
Look up, my Julia, it is worse than Death
To see thee thus; thou hast no Cause for Grief.
JULIA.
Alas! too much Camilla; know'st thou not,
When Ferdinand pronounc'd thy fatal Doom,
He made me then a Stranger to his House,
His Honour, and his Blood: I'm banish'd too,
For we will never part; I'll follow thee,
-- 27 --
And share in all thy Dangers.—All the Day
We'll toil together o'er the barren Waste;
And when the silent Shades of Night come on,
Together on the friendly Turf we'll taste
A sweet Repose:—What tho' alone and chearless,
Heaven will not fail to guard the Innocent.
HILLARIO.
Nay, think it not;—you shall not know a Toil,
But I will have my Share on't;—I'm not yet
So much a Courtier as to slight my Friends,
When the swift Turn of giddy Fortune's Wheel
Has thrown them from her Smiles.—I'll follow too.
JULIA.
That's kindly said; come Coz, we'll never leave thee.
CAMILLA.
No, Julia, I'll not do thee so much wrong;
You have a Father:—Live, live, and be happy;
Forget, if possible, a wretched Maid,
Whose Friendship wou'd undo thee.
JULIA.
Oh Camilla!
You wrong me more to think I e'er can leave thee;
No, let my Father seek another Heir,
For we will never part. Come my sweet Girl
Dispatch, dispatch, and let us fly from Liege.
CAMILLA.
Ah! whither can we fly?
HILLARIO.
Madam, I've heard,
That good Lord Frederick, your Royal Father,
With those few faithful Gentlemen, that follow'd
His broken Fortunes, are in Arden's Forest;
'Twere best we sought him there.
-- 28 --
CAMILLA.
Come on then, but as 't may be dangerous,
Maids as we are, to venture such a Journey,
I think 'twere best I shou'd array myself
In all Points like a Man;—the Shepherd's Hook,
And plain Attire will suit our ruin'd State.
You, Julia, in homely Russet clad,
Shall by a nearer Tie be bound to me,
And call'd my Sister.
HILLARIO.
At the Eastern Gate
I have a Tenant, who shall furnish us
With fit Disguises, Horses, and what else
Our Need requires.
JULIA.
Thither let us haste,
And with all Speed prepare us for our Journey.
Lead on, Hillario;—Ferdinand good Night,
I'm sorry thou should'st wrong, where I must right.
End of the First Act.
-- 29 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE the Forest of Arden.
Duke, Antonio, and other Lords.
DUKE.
Well, my Co-mates, and Partners in Exile,
Hath not old Custom made this Life more sweet
Than that of painted Pomp? Are not these Woods,
These Plains enrich'd by bounteous Nature's Hand,
More free from Trouble, than the envious Court?
In Nature's Palace fearlessly we feel
The Seasons Difference; and when the icy Phang,
And churlish Chiding of the Winter's Wind
Blows on my Body, e'en till I shake with Cold,
I smile, and say this is no Flattery:
These, these are Friends indeed, that tell me true,
And kindly teach me how to know myself.
Believe me, Sirs, Adversity is not
That Monster, that our Fears wou'd represent her,
And tho' her Tree be bitter, yet her Fruit
Is passing sweet: Weigh but the Advantages
-- 30 --
Against its Ills, and you shall see the Scale
Of Profit sink beneath th' unequal Burthen.
ANTONIO.
I wou'd not change my Life again; and sure
Your Grace is happy, that can so easily suit
Your Disposition to your wayward Fortune.
DUKE.
Come, Sirs, what say you, shall we kill some Venison?
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled Fools,
Being native Burghers of this desart City,
Shou'd here, in their own Confines, be destroy'd.
1st LORD.
My Lord Marcellus grieves at that, and swears
We are worse Tyrants than your Brother Ferdinand.
DUKE.
Who saw him of late?
1st LORD.
This Morning, Lord Antonio, and myself crept close
behind him, as he lay supine beneath a rev'rend Oak,
whose leafy Honours bow o'er the Brook that borders on
Wood; thither a poor sequester'd Stag, that from the
Hunter's Dart had ta'en a Hurt, and from the Toils
escap'd, retir'd to languish; and, believe me, the
wretched Animal heav'd forth such Groans, that their
Discharge did stretch his leathern Coat almost to bursting;
and the big round Tears chas'd one another down his
trembling Cheeks in such Abundance, it wou'd have
mov'd a Man less human than Marcellus.
DUKE.
Food for his Melancholy. What said he?
Did he not moralize upon the Spectacle?
ANTONIO.
Oh much, my Lord, into a thousand Similies.
First, when he saw his falling Tears augment the swelling
-- 31 --
Stream, just so, quoth he, do Worldlings make their
Testaments, bequeathing more to those who had too
much already.
1st LORD.
Then because he was alone; right, quoth he, 'tis easy
known that thou art miserable, because alone; for Misery
makes Solitude.
ANTONIO.
Anon, a careless Herd, eager on Pasture, bounds
swiftly by, and never stops to greet him: Sweep on,
cry'd he, 'tis just the Fashion; yon Train of Stags are
favourite Courtiers, and like them, neglect their Brother
in Disgrace.
DUKE.
Heard you his Sermon out, or did you leave him in
his Contemplation?
1st LORD.
'Twas much about your Highness's Dressing-time, we
therefore left him still commenting on the unhappy Deer.
DUKE.
Wou'd I had been there!
ANTONIO.
'Twou'd much have pleas'd your Highness.
DUKE.
Belike so; I have not seen him lately. Know any of
you where to meet with him?
ANTONIO.
You know, my Lord, he does not quickly leave a
Place he has once taken to; 'tis Odds we find him there.
DUKE.
I pray you bring me to him; I love to cope him in
these sullen Fits; for then he's full of Matter. Along.
ANTONIO.
This Way, my Lord.
-- 32 --
SCENE II.
Scene another Part of the Forest.
Camilla as Julio, Julia as Florinda, and Hillario.
FLORINDA.
Heigh ho! how weary are my Spirits!
JULIO.
I care not for my Spirits, if my Legs were not weary.
HILLARIO.
For shame, Sir, a young brisk Gentleman, and talk
of being tir'd! Why 'tis not above some eight, or ten
Miles since we quitted our Horses.
JULIO.
I could find in my Heart to disgrace my Manhood,
and cry like a mere Girl; but since I represent a Man,
I must make a Shew of Courage at least, and comfort
the weaker Vessel; therefore Courage, good Florinda.
FLORINDA.
Pr'ythee, Julio, bear with me, I can go no farther.
HILLARIO.
For my Part, I had much rather bear with you, than
bear you, I promise you. But come, who knows where
we are?
JULIO.
Not I,—but here comes one, who, in all Probability,
can inform us.
FLORINDA.
He seems a Native; you'll remember who we are,
Hillario.
-- 33 --
HILLARIO.
I warrant you! you, Sir, are no longer Lady Camilla,
but Mr. Julio, the Shepherd, (to Julio) and you, Madam
—(to Florinda).
FLORINDA.
Mrs. Florinda, the Shepherd's Sister. But soft, the
Stranger's here.
SCENE III.
(To them) a Shepherd.
JULIO.
Shepherd, good Day: What do you call this
Place?
SHEPHERD.
The Forest of Arden, Sir.
HILLARIO.
That's well, however.
JULIO.
Pr'ythee inform us if any Town be near, where we
may rest a while; here's a poor young Maid that is not
greatly us'd to Travelling, and almost faints for Succour.
SHEPHERD.
Ah! lack-a-day, Sir, you're a great Way from any
Village, or House; but I have a little Cot hard by here,
an you'll step there, such poor Refreshment as you meet
with, is at your Service, as the Saying is.
HILLARIO.
Faith, a good honest Fellow this.
-- 34 --
JULIO.
With all my Heart, Shepherd; we are oblig'd to you,
and will satisfy you as you require; lead on then without
Ceremony; come, Sister.
SCENE IV.
Scene a Grove, Marcellus discover'd sitting on a Bank alone.
MARCELLUS.
Hail pleasing Horrors of the silent Shade! Hail
friendly Solitude! how happy is the untam'd Savage,
who wanders free along the gloomy Desart, and
knows no Care but from the Calls of Nature, which himself
can quickly satisfy,—whose peaceful Hours are ne'er
disturb'd by the impertinent Salutations of Friends, or the
cringing Grimace of Flatterers.—What Injustice! what
Cruelty is it that any one Creature, design'd by Nature
free and uncontroul'd, shou'd be oblig'd by Laws to submit
tamely to the many Torments his Fellow-Animals
are so studious to load him with!—How happy must our
first Parent Adam have been in his blest Solitude! how
agreeable his Life! till Woman, damn'd Woman, that
Creature, worse, if possible, than Man, broke in upon
his Rest, and tainted all his Joys.—(A Noise of Horns
without.) Heavens! that Noise forever! Impious Men!
what Authority has Nature given you over your poor
dumb Fellow-Creatures, that they must thus be sacrificed
to your unnatural Pleasures? Is it because you're stronger?
-- 35 --
So much the more Injustice, to hurt the Weak unable to
resist you. Are they not Inhabitants of the same World,
and born in the same Freedom with yourselves? (Noise
again) Again! they come this Way too.—S'death,
I think they mean to hunt me; I'll try to avoid them.
SCENE V.
Julio, Florinda, Hillario, and Shepherd discover'd in a Cottage.
JULIO.
Shepherd, we thank you, and assure yourself,
if ever it lies in our Power to serve you,
you shall not find us mere Court-Promisers.
HILLARIO.
Why aye now, Compliments will serve well enough
for Grace after Meat, look ye; but before, faith, they
are the worst Things that ever were invented. Sad
Custom: Sad Custom.
FLORINDA.
Are there not some Strangers, Shepherd, that live
retir'd in some solitary Part of the Forest?
SHEPHERD.
Aye, Madam, the old Duke of Liege, good Gentleman,
that was banish'd by his Brother, with his Companions,
lives in a Cave about a Mile off.
JULIO.
Aye, poor Gentleman, we have heard of him; how
does he pass his Time in his Retirement?
-- 36 --
SHEPHERD.
Hunting, for the generality, furnishes him with both
Food and Exercise; there's seldom a Morning passes,
but you shall see the good old Man up, and after a Stag,
an Hour or two before Sun-rise.
HILLARIO.
What Company has he with him here?
SHEPHERD.
Why, there's one Antonio, and two, or three more
merry Fellows, that are always with him.—And then
there's one Marcellus, I think they call him, a melancholy
Sort of a Fellow;—he's a great Woman-hater, and
a Philosopher too, I think they say.
HILLARIO.
How d'ye know?
SHEPHERD.
Why, he reads much;—
HILLARIO.
Good.
SHEPHERD.
Thinks more;—
HILLARIO.
Good still.
SHEPHERD.
Eats little, sleeps less, and speaks least of all.
HILLARIO.
All good.
SHEPHERD.
And if he sees a Woman—
FLORINDA.
What then, Shepherd?
SHEPHERD.
He runs away, shuts himself up in his Cave, and
prays for an Hour, or two after.
-- 37 --
JULIO, HILLARIO.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
FLORINDA.
Oh the Brute! I'm resolv'd to take a Revenge upon
him in Behalf of the whole Sex.
HILLARIO.
So, so, here's like to be fine Work, if you once come
at him; well, I say no more.
FLORINDA.
Where is this Marcellus to be found, Shepherd?
SHEPHERD.
About an Hour hence, he generally walks this Way;
if you will then, I'll bring you where you may see
him.
JULIO.
Do so, Shepherd, and in the mean Time here's for thy
Civility, (gives him Money.) Do you know of any Farm to
be let, or sold in this Neighbourhood?
SHEPHERD.
Marry, as good a one, as any in the Forest, hard by
here, down by the Brook;—'twas old Corin's, but he's
gone, poor-Soul; he died, let me see, it's a Month ago,
I think, come Wednesday.
JULIO.
Do you bargain for it then, and we'll be answerable
for whatever you agree upon.
FLORINDA.
Do Brother, I like the Place much, and cou'd spend
my Life in't.
JULIO.
Come, Shepherd, we'll take a little Turn about your
Gardens, if you will, and then—
HILLARIO.
Hey for the Philosopher.
-- 38 --
SCENE VI.
Marcellus, Antonio (meeting.)
ANTONIO.
How now, Marcellus, how fares it with you?
MARCELLUS.
Why well.
ANTONIO.
I am glad of it; where have you been, that we have
not seen you of late?
MARCELLUS.
In my Study.
ANTONIO.
Pr'ythee where's that?
MARCELLUS.
The World.
ANTONIO.
Will you walk with me to the Duke's Cave?
MARCELLUS.
No, 'tis too soon to sleep yet.
ANTONIO.
Why, who the Plague wants you to sleep?
MARCELLUS.
What shou'd I do else in Company?
ANTONIO.
The Duke has been enquiring for you all the Morning.
MARCELLUS.
I'm glad he found me not.
-- 39 --
ANTONIO.
Pr'ythee why do you avoid him? he wants to have
some Discourse with you.
MARCELLUS.
I know it, and therefore I avoid him.
ANTONIO.
Why are you so sullen, Marcellus?
MARCELLUS.
Why are you so impertinent, Antonio?
ANTONIO.
Come, if you'll sit down, I'll give you a Song.
MARCELLUS.
With all my Heart, I am melancholy.
ANTONIO.
Nay then, I will not, it will feed your Melancholy.
MARCELLUS.
I like it the better; I can pick Melancholy out of a
Song, as a Chicken does Meat out of a Barley-corn.
ANTONIO.
But you know my Voice don't please you; besides I'm
hoarse.
MARCELLUS.
S'death, I don't want you to please me, I wou'd but
have you sing.
ANTONIO.
Ahem! Ahem!
MARCELLUS.
Pox o' thy hem,—I wish you'd begin.
ANTONIO.
Well, are you for Love, or Mirth, or Satire, or—?
MARCELLUS.
Satire, dear Devil Satire,—oh how I love a little honest
Satire,—it feeds my Humour,—come, but no Love
I pr'ythee.
-- 40 --
ANTONIO.
Well, mark then.
Antonio sings
I.
As Thyrsis one Ev'ning was on a Bank laid,
A soft mossy Pillow supported his Head,
His Quiver lay by him, his Bow was unstrung,
And thus in sad Numbers he mournfully sung.
II.
Alas! hapless Youth, must I still sigh in vain?
Shall I ne'er know an End to my Torment and Pain?
Ah! say, gentle Cupid, and ease my vex'd Mind,
Ah! when will my Silvia relent, and be kind?
III.
Young Cupid, who passing that Way chanc'd to hear
The Shepherd thus sadly complaining, drew near,
Accosted him kindly, sate down by his Side,
Then tun'd up his Voice, and thus to him reply'd:
IV.
When Courtiers speak Truth, and a Statesman's sincere;
When Knaves cease to flatter, and Atheists to fear;
When Lawyers are honest, Physicians have Skill,
And Conscience enough to cure more than they kill;
V.
When Pedants know well, what to others they teach;
When Priests learn to practice the Doctrine, they preach;
When Women are fair, and not vain of their Charms;
When a Tradesman is just, and a Soldier loves Arms;
-- 41 --
VI.
When a Poet is modest, a Lover has Brains;
When a Scholar's polite, and Sincerity reigns;
When a brainsick Projector forgets to contrive,
And a true honest Man finds it easy to live;
VII.
When dull politick Fools are of use to the Nation;
When Virtue's esteem'd, and Religion in Fashion;
When Arts are encourag'd, and Merit gains Praise;
When we've Wealth in our Coffers, and Wit in our Plays;
VIII.
When the World is unmask'd, and a Villain's Face bare,
And all Men appear what they nat'rally are;
Then Silvia shall to her Thyrsis resign
All her Charms, and forever, forever be thine.
IX.
Must I all these impossible Changes attend?
Gods! cries Thyrsis, my Sorrows will ne'er have an End:
'Twere as easy as this to recal a past Day.
So he rose in Despair, and went sighing away.
-- 42 --
SCENE VII.
Marcellus, Antonio; Julio, Florinda, Hillario, and Shepherd behind.
SHEPHERD.
This is the Place, Sir, where he generally spends
this Part of the Day, I don't doubt but we shall
find him;—Oh, yonder he is to our Wish.
FLORINDA.
Where, Shepherd? which is he?
SHEPHERD.
The nearest of those two Gentlemen.
HILLARIO.
What that hagged ill-looking Fellow in Black? Why
he looks like one of the Sons of Noah, in deep Mourning
for his Great-grandfather: He must be an Antediluvian
that's certain; for I'm sure such People as he have not been
in Fashion o' this Side the Flood. O' my Conscience if
he had been in Fig-Leaves, I shou'd have taken him for
Adam under the Apple-Tree.
FLORINDA.
Hush, Hillario, you forget that I am to fall in love
with him.
HILLARIO.
Gadso: I had like to have forgot that, indeed;—but
I beg your Ladyship's Pardon.
-- 43 --
JULIO.
Peace, he's going to open; let us step aside, lest we
disturb him.
[During this Discourse Marcellus sits melancholy, holding his Head down, Antonio looking at him.
MARCELLUS.
Have you done? Is that all?
ANTONIO.
Yes.
MARCELLUS.
Pr'ythee give me some more.
ANTONIO.
No; it makes you melancholy.
MARCELLUS.
Death! I tell you I like it for that; come, t'other
Stanzo, Stanza, what d'ye call them?
ANTONIO.
Just what you please.
MARCELLUS.
Nay, I care not for their Name, they owe me nothing;
but come, if you will sing, sing; if not, leave me, that I
may find some other Employment.
HILLARIO.
That's a little unpolite, methinks.
FLORINDA.
A little upon the free, or so.
ANTONIO.
Well, hearken then.
Antonio. sings.
What's Ambition? 'tis a Toy.
What are Riches? Pain and Trouble.
What is Fame? a short-liv'd Joy.
What is Honour? but a Bubble.
-- 44 --
Who's so happy then as we, who beneath the Greenwood-tree,
Where no Fear or Envy reigns,
While Time shakes his hasty Glass, our Hours in endless Transports pass,
And taste Life's Joys without its Pains?
There Sir.
MARCELLUS.
More, more, I pr'ythee more.
ANTONIO.
I can sing no more.
MARCELLUS.
Then leave me, I am busy, and wou'd be alone.
HILLARIO.
Ah Pox! there's some more of his Freedom.
ANTONIO.
With all my Heart; 'tis near the Duke's Dining-Time,
and I must attend him; you'll not go with me?
MARCELLUS.
No, I'll try to sleep; if I can't, I'll go rail at all Mankind,
and wish my Friends at the Devil.
HILLARIO.
By my Troth, a very pious Resolution.
ANTONIO.
Why, what a Brute art thou: Well, fare you well.
-- 45 --
SCENE VIII.
Marcellus, Julio, Florinda, Hillario, and Shepherd.
JULIO.
See, Sister, he's now alone; shall we accost him?
FLORINDA.
Oh! by all Means; but I've a Mind to attack him alone
first, therefore do you retire down that Walk, and leave
me to manage him.
JULIO.
Are you not afraid, Sister?
FLORINDA.
Not in the least; but, however, you may take care to
keep within Call.
JULIO.
Well, you're a mad Wench.—But come, Hillario, let
us give her her Humour for once.
HILLARIO.
Aye, or we shall have the Devil to pay, I suppose.
SHEPHERD.
Waunds! Mistress, have a Care how you provoke his
Tongue.—
HILLARIO.
Ah lack-a-day, Shepherd, if he has no better Weapon
than that, Lord have Mercy upon him.—But come Sir,
we hinder the Lady; allons. Success to you Madam.
-- 46 --
SCENE IX.
Florinda, Marcellus.
FLORINDA.
So! let me see, shall I begin first, or shall I wait,
and see if he dares make the Attack? I'll walk towards
him however.
[Walks towards him, Marcellus rises, and going out meets her.]
MARCELLUS.
Death, and Furies! a Woman in the Forest!
[Turns, and is going out at the other Door, but stops.
Yet hold, sure 'twas some Phantom; I'm not us'd to fear,
and will be satisfied.
[Florinda walks carelessly by him singing.
By Heaven a Woman, a very Woman; and, as I think,
a fair one too; what can this mean? I'm wond'rous ill
o'the sudden; my Limbs refuse their Office, I must sit.
FLORINDA.
Not yet?
MARCELLUS.
Hah! what am I doing? I shall be kill'd with Noise;
—she looks strangely impertinent; yet stay, perhaps she
cannot talk; as she has been silent so long, I have very
good Reason to believe so;—I'll e'en venture.
[Sits.
-- 47 --
SCENE X.
Marcellus, Florinda, Hillario listening.
HILLARIO.
Now can't I, for the Life of me, resist the Temptation;
I long to see how Matters go between
'em, I must have one Peep.—
FLORINDA.
So! I find I must open the Scene at last.
(Aside.)
Good Day to you, Sir; what alone?
MARCELLUS.
So, I thought it wou'd come, but I deserve it.
(Aside.)
I was.
FLORINDA.
I saw it, and therefore come to keep you Company.
MARCELLUS.
I thank you; but good Faith I had as lief ha' been by
myself.
FLORINDA.
Why so had I for that Matter; but for Fashion's sake,
I oblige myself now and then to undergo the Fatigue of a
little Conversation.
MARCELLUS.
Oh, your Servant, Madam; but for my Part, I must
confess, I have not quite Complaisance enough to sacrifice
my own private Satisfaction, to follow impertinent
Fashions.
-- 48 --
FLORINDA.
Nor am I quite ill-natur'd enough, to force any thing
upon a Person that's disagreeable to them; therefore, Sir,
you have free Liberty to retire as soon as you please,
with my Promise not to follow you.
MARCELLUS.
Methinks, Madam, as I had first Possession of the
Place, 'twou'd be more just for you to quit it.
FLORINDA.
Aye, but you know we Women are a strange unreasonable
Sort of Creatures, and expect a little Deference
to be shewn us on these Occasions; besides, I find I have
taken such a Fancy to this Place, ever since you desir'd
me to leave it, that I'm afraid you'll not easily perswade
me to quit it.
MARCELLUS.
Nay, as I have given you fair Warning, you can't
take it amiss if I shou'd continue with you, tho' my
Company may be a little disagreeable.
FLORINDA.
Not in the least, Sir; but in return for your Complaisance
shall acquaint you, that I am sometimes troubled
with a kind of Fits that make me a little disagreable too.
As for Instance, I shall run on upon Nothing by the
Hour, talk of Love, War, Business, Running, Sighing,
Writing, Fencing, Billet-doux, Darts, Flames, Cupids,
and I don't know what myself; then whip, I skip off to
your Mines and Countermines, Scarps, Counterscarps,
Bastions, Bulwarks, Parapets—
[Seems to continue talking.
HILLARIO.
So! so! so! why she has put him to his Trumps already;
the poor Devil has not one Word to say for himself.
-- 49 --
FLORINDA.
And then for your Philosophers, I can tell you all
about them from Top to Bottom; your Plato's, and
your Xenophons, your Socrates, and your Aristotle;
your Cynicks, Stoicks, and Pythagoreans; I can count
over all Ovid's Metamorphoses, reckon up all Pliny's
Curiosities, know how many Feathers were in Dædalus's
Wings, how many Turnings in the Cretan Labyrinth,
how far Atalanta ran in a Minute.—
[Seems still to talk.
During the two last Speeches of Florinda,
Marcellus seems impatient, and endeavours
to rise, but is held down by her; at last he
breaks from her, and rises.
MARCELLUS.
Death! can I bear all this? No, 'tis impossible;
(going)
yet stay.
These are Fits you say.
FLORINDA.
Yes, Sir.
MARCELLUS.
And are you often troubled with them?
FLORINDA.
Seldom without them, except when I'm asleep.
MARCELLUS.
Then Charity obliges me to stay, perhaps you may
want Assistance.
FLORINDA.
Hum—No, I'm generally best alone.
MARCELLUS.
You don't approve of my Company then?
FLORINDA.
No.
-- 50 --
MARCELLUS.
Then I must inform you, I have taken a Resolution
to be a continual Torment to your Sex, and am determin'd
to stay, if it be only to plague you.
HILLARIO.
Aye do, Child; but I can give a shrewd Guess who'll
come by the worst of it.
FLORINDA.
Nay, if you are for that Sport, come sit down, and
begin as soon as you please.
MARCELLUS.
I'll sit with all my Heart, but I hate talking.
[They sit.
FLORINDA.
And I can't abide to hold my Tongue.
MARCELLUS.
Pry'thee try to be silent for once, and let us be good
Company.
FLORINDA.
I'm afraid; it may be dangerous.
MARCELLUS.
You're a Woman?
FLORINDA.
I think so.
MARCELLUS.
And you will talk?
FLORINDA.
I must.
MARCELLUS.
Ten Crowns to one then you open with Scandal.
FLORINDA.
That I can't fail, when I have so good a Theme for
it before me:
-- 51 --
MARCELLUS.
Why you dare not rail at me?
FLORINDA.
I'll venture.
MARCELLUS.
But you shou'd first consider whether I deserve it, and
for what?
FLORINDA.
Oh! that's done already, and according to the general
Character I have heard of you: Besides a little Skill I
have in Physiognomy.—I pronounce you to be as honest
as a Lawyer, a City Tradesman, or a Deer-stealer;
as generous as a Miser, or an elder Brother to a poor
Family; as charitable as an old gouty Abbot; as religious
as a Dutch Sailor; as sincere as a Courtier; as
polite as a Hottentot; as sober as a Sea Captain, or
an English Foot Soldier; as humble and good-natur'd
as a Footman to his Lord's Duns, or a Player to a
poor Poet; as courageous as a Bull-fighting Spaniard; as—
[Marcellus rises at the Beginning of the Speech,
and walks about the Stage, Florinda following
him. At the End he turns, and stops her Mouth.
MARCELLUS.
Hold, hold; a Truce for Heaven's Sake; deliver
me this once, and if I ever undertake to rail with a
Woman again—
HILLARIO.
You'll be sure to have the worst End of the Argument.
FLORINDA.
Look ye, Sir, 'twas your own Fault, I told you
what you was to expect; Heaven knows I wou'd—
-- 52 --
MARCELLUS.
Death! She's beginning again; thank Fortune here's
Relief coming, or I should certainly grow desperate, and
beat her.
SCENE XI.
To them Lords.
1st LORD.
How's this? Marcellus with a Woman! this is
somewhat extraordinary.
MARCELLUS.
Gentlemen, you're welcome.
1st LORD.
'Tis the first Time we ever were so, I believe.
MARCELLUS.
Perhaps so,—but of two necessary Evils, I'm for chusing
the least. Pr'ythee lead me somewhere to avoid this
Fury.
1st LORD.
Come then, the Duke is just going to Dinner, and
will be glad of your Company;—will you attend us thither?
MARCELLUS.
With all my Heart; Farewel Virtue.
[To Florinda.
FLORINDA.
Adieu, Valour.
MARCELLUS returning.
Hark ye, thou Devil in Petticoats, take notice, that all
the Evening, from five, this Bank is my retiring Place;—
-- 53 --
this is the Seat of my Contemplations, and I claim it all
to myself; disturb me not, as you value—
FLORINDA.
What?
MARCELLUS.
I know not,—farewel.—
FLORINDA.
Hark ye, thou Bear in Breeches;—about a Quarter of
a Mile from hence, Northward, lies a little Cottage,—
upon the Green before which I shall spend my Afternoon
from two; come not there—as you value.
MARCELLUS.
What?
FLORINDA.
Peace.
MARCELLUS.
Agreed.—Farewel.—
SCENE XII.
Florinda, Hillario apart.
HILLARIO.
Hum—a good pretty new Fashion Way of making
Assignations this:—Well, I have a strange
Notion this Affair won't end so; 'twas pretty well fought
o' both Sides.
-- 54 --
SCENE XIII.
To them Marcellus.
FLORINDA.
What d'ye come back for?
MARCELLUS.
Only to assure you, that I hate you. Once more farewel.
SCENE XIV.
Florinda, Hillario apart.
HILLARIO.
'Twas mighty civil of you, truly.
FLORINDA.
Ha, ha, ha.—Well, Gentlemen, you may enter,
the Coast's clear.
-- 55 --
SCENE XV.
Florinda, Julio, Hillario.
JULIO.
Well Sister, what Success?
FLORINDA.
Is that a Question, when you see I keep the Field?—
Oh! I made nothing of him. In short, I manag'd him
so, he did not know which Way to turn himself.
JULIO.
Well, but what Use do you intend to make of your
Conquest.
FLORINDA.
Oh, let me compleat it, and I warrant I find a Use
for it. We have given each other a Challenge to meet
again this Afternoon: If he don't come to mine, I'm resolv'd
not to miss his; and when I come at him again—
HILLARIO.
Let you alone to manage him:—Well, I find, after
all, we are but Novices in these Affairs,—for
In vain our Skill and Courage we may boast.
Set but a Woman to us, and we're lost.
End of the Second Act.
-- 56 --
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The FOREST.
Julio with a Paper, followed by Florinda, and Hillario.
JULIO.
Nay, good Sister, don't teize me so.
FLORINDA.
Nay, but good Brother, by your Leave,
I must see it, and I will see it.
HILLARIO.
Aye, aye, come Sir, communicate, communicate.
JULIO.
Well, hold then, and you shall hear it.—Mark,
[reads.]
Cease, fond Youth, thy idle Strain,
Thy Sighs, thy Sorrows all are vain;
Too well alas, my Fears divine,
Camilla never can be mine.
FLORINDA. looking at the Paper.
Either my Eyes deceive me, or I see in plain legible
Characters, C, A, M, I, L, L, A; what should this mean?
-- 57 --
JULIO.
Heaven knows; either some Fairy has a Mind to sport
with us, or one who is so wretched as to bear my Name
dwells somewhere in the Forest.
FLORINDA. looking out.
Hist Brother, keep your Post, I'll be with you instantly.
SCENE II.
Julio, Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Hoyty toyty! What's in the Wind now? But,
pray Sir, where did you find this Paper?
JULIO.
'Twas fastened to yon Elm.
HILLARIO.
Why 'tis a good portly Tree to look at, 'tis pity it
should yield such bad Fruit.
JULIO.
Peace: Here comes my Sister, with another Paper.
-- 58 --
SCENE III.
To them Florinda.
FLORINDA.
Save ye Gentlemen, save ye, the Riddle's out at last;
read that.
[Giving a Paper.
HILLARIO.
Vincentio!
JULIO.
Vincentio! Is it possible?
FLORINDA.
Even so, Brother.
JULIO.
Where found you this Paper, Florinda?
FLORINDA.
When I left you, I saw a Man fast'ning something to
yon Oak; I thought at first Sight, he was not wholly a
Stranger to me; and, upon a nearer View, who shou'd
it be but young Vincentio, with his Arms across, thus,—
and so melancholy I warrant ye.
JULIO.
Did you speak to him!
FLORINDA.
No; at Sight of me he left the Paper, and turn'd
this Way, as I thought.—I ran, and took the Paper
down.—I suppose we shall see him presently.
-- 59 --
HILLARIO.
And see where he comes. We'd best stand aside a
little, and see how he'll behave himself.
JULIO.
I hope he'll not know us.
FLORINDA.
I hope so too.
SCENE IV.
Vincentio; Julio, Florinda, Hillario (apart.
VINCENTIO.
How precarious a Condition is human Life! How
vainly do we promise ourselves the Enjoyment of
Pleasures, which if we would give ourselves Time to
consider rightly, we should find it impossible e'er to attain!
FLORINDA.
O' my Conscience I think he's turn'd Philosopher too:
Look sharp, Julio, or you'll have your Lover quite
spoil'd, I protest.
VINCENTIO.
I'm no sooner freed from the Tyranny of a cruel Brother,
but I am condemn'd to languish out a tedious Life
beneath the Torments of a hopeless Love. Oh Camilla!
why was not I Prince of Liege, and thou Ernesto's Daughter;
I then, perhaps, might have been happy; but as it
-- 60 --
is—I'll think no more, lest my Brain turn, and I grow
mad with Love.
HILLARIO.
Ah, poor Vincentio, was it afraid they did not love
him?
FLORINDA.
You had best speak to him Julio, and comfort him a
little, or perhaps the poor Gentleman may take it in his
Head, to lie down and die.
JULIO.
For once I'll take your Advice.—Holla, Friend.
[To Vincentio.
VINCENTIO.
What wou'd you, Sir?
JULIO.
Pr'ythee what's o'Clock?
VINCENTIO.
It had been properer, in my Opinion, to have ask'd
what Time of the Day; for I think you have no Clock
in the Forest.
JULIO.
And is there no Lover in the Forest?
VINCENTIO.
What if there be?
JULIO.
Oh, your true Lover is an excellent Clock; he beats
Minutes with his Sighs as natural as any Larum in Europe,
and serves as well to detect the lazy Foot of Time.
FLORINDA.
Come, Hillario, I see my Brother's engaged for one
Hour at least; if you will, we'll take a Turn down this
Walk, lest we interrupt him.
HILLARIO.
With all my Heart, Madam, I'll follow you.
-- 61 --
SCENE V.
Vincentio, Julio.
VINCENTIO.
But pr'ythee Youth why not the swift Foot of
Time? methinks, that had sounded better.
JULIO.
Why aye, it might so with some People perhaps; for
Time, you must know, has different Paces with different
Persons; there are some he walks with, others that he
trots with; with this Man he ambles, with that he gallops,
and with another he stands stock-still,
VINCENTIO.
A pretty Youth this; I'll have some Discourse with
him.—Pr'ythee, young Gentleman, who does time
walk with?
JULIO.
Faith very few, I'm afraid; but such as are rich without
Pride, and Ambition, poor without Knavery, and Discontent,
wise without Frowardness, and gay without Libertinism,
find his Pace so easy, that they cannot be persuaded
he goes faster than a Walk.
VINCENTIO.
That may be very true; but who does he trot with?
JULIO.
With a Usurer on his Death-Bed, and a young Spendthrift
to the Expiration of a Bond; both of them think
he travels very unpleasantly.
-- 62 --
VINCENTIO.
Well, and who does he gallop with?
JULIO.
With a Lover in his Mistress's Arms, and a Thief to
the Gallows; for let him travel never so slow, he's at
his Journey's End with them in a Moment.
VINCENTIO.
But pr'ythee Youth, who does he stand still with?
JULIO.
Oh! with every body almost:—With a Maid between
the drawing up of her Marriage Articles and the
Wedding-Day; with a young Heir, whose Father lives
after he's of Age; with a Poet between the Receipt of his
Play and his Benefit Night; and a Lawyer in the Vacation.
VINCENTIO.
There's something so surprisingly engaging in this
Youth, I must be better acquainted with him.
[Aside.
Whereabouts in the Forest do you live, Youngster?
JULIO.
About a Quarter of a Mile hence Northward.
VINCENTIO.
Are you a Native of it?
JULIO.
I have heard my Mother say so, Sir.
VINCENTIO.
Methinks your Accent is a little finer than one would
expect in so desart a Place.
JULIO.
I have been told so indeed;—but I confess an old
Uncle of mine that was a Courtier, and grew fond of
Retirement, because he was thrown out of Favour, taught
me to speak:—Poor Paulino!—I shall never forget
-- 63 --
him;—he was the merriest, best-natured Creature,
—sometimes;—and then he wou'd so rail at
the Vices of the Court, and the Vanities of this wicked
World, that I protest he has given me many a comfortable
Nap in an Afternoon, when I could not sleep for the
Tooth-Ach all the Night before.—Sometimes he
would touch upon Love too.—
VINCENTIO.
He understood it doubtless.
JULIO.
Aye marry, but too well; for while he was at Court,
he happened to fall in Love with one of the Maids of
Honour, who slighted him forsooth; ah! it went to the
very Heart of him.—I have heard him run on about
a Fop, and an Opera, and an Assembly, and a Coach and
Six, and a fine Coat; and I don't know what all, for an
Hour together.—Well, thank Heaven that I'm no Woman:
I wou'd not have all the Mischiefs that he has
charged that Sex with to answer for, for the best Face in
Christendom.
VINCENTIO.
Do you remember any of the principal Faults he accused
them with?
JULIO.
Principal! Death Sir! they were all Principals; they
were as like as these two Fellows: (shewing her Hands.)
Ev'ry one was biggest till another was brought to match
it.
VINCENTIO.
Pr'ythee tell me some of the Generals then.
JULIO.
'Tis not my Custom to throw away Physick where
there is no Occasion for it; but there is somebody hereabouts
that's continually spoiling the Trees with scratching
-- 64 --
Names upon them; and then he has hung such a
Parcel of Songs and Dittys up and down the note Bushes, that
he has made a perfect Ballad-Shop of the Forest. Now
if I could meet with that Fancy-monger, methinks I
cou'd find in my Heart to give him a little Advice, for
he seems to be in a desperate Condition.
VINCENTIO.
Suppose I were that Man, now what wou'd you say to
me?
JULIO.
You! marry, I'm not to be caught so; you've none
of the Marks upon you, that my Uncle taught me to
know a Lover by.
VINCENTIO.
Marks! pray what were they?
JULIO.
Oh! I have them under black and white. (Takes out
a Pocket-Book.) Let me see—Oh! here—
VINCENTIO.
Well, examine me a little closer; compare me with
your Notes, and see what you'll think of me then.
JULIO.
Never the better I'm afraid. But come—
(reads.)
Imprimis, a lean Cheek;—you have it not.—Item,
a hollow melancholy Eye;—you have it not.—Item, a
pale Countenance;—you have it not.—Item, to muse,
and to sigh, to talk to himself, and start on a sudden
as if just awakened;—you do no such Thing.—Item,
to have the Collar unbuttoned, the Wig without Powder,
the Coat undusted, the Stockings ungarter'd;—the—
VINCENTIO.
Oh! you're quite mistaken Child; it might be so in
Days of Yore indeed, but the Case is clean altered now:
'Tis a Lover's Business to please; and one of these Fellows
-- 65 --
you describe, will go no more down with a modern
fine Lady, than a Play without Satire, or a Carnival
without masquing.—The Lover that would succeed
now-a-days, must be a quite different Sort of a Creature,
a mere Petit Maitre, a Beau Garçon. In short, he must
fence, dance, sing, drink, rake, wench, and dress, or
he'll have no Share with the Ladies, take my Word for
it.
JULIO.
Well, you shan't make me believe you're a Lover
yet; nay, you have cast yourself, for you agree as ill
with your own Description as you did with mine.
VINCENTIO.
Faith! I'm sorry, my Dear, I have so little Credit with
you; I wou'd fain make you believe I am in Love.
JULIO.
Me believe it! you may as soon make her you pretend
to love confess she believes it:—And let me tell you,
you'll not find that very easy, as Sincerity goes now:
But come, tell me sincerely, are you the Man that makes
all these fine Sonnets upon this same Camilla, and adorns
the Trees with them in this Manner?
VINCENTIO.
I swear to thee Youth, by the lilly Hand, ruby Lips,
starry Eyes, and heaving Breasts of the lovely Camilla,
that I am the He, the very, unfortunate He.
JULIO.
And are you really so much in Love as your Rhymes
speak you?
VINCENTIO.
Oh! far beyond, neither Rhyme nor Reason is sufficient
to express how deep I am in Love.
-- 66 --
JULIO.
Well then, out of pure Compassion, d'ye see, I'll do
my Endeavour to cure you; follow my Advice, and I
warrant we effect it.
VINCENTIO.
Aye, but suppose I wou'd not be cured, Youth?
JULIO.
But I can't suppose so, nor I won't suppose so; and
what then Sir? Death Sir, d'ye think I have had all
my Experience for nothing? Shew me e'er a Lover in
Christendom, that wou'd not be cured one Way or other,
and I'll ne'er wear Breeches again.
VINCENTIO.
There is something so surprisingly agreeable in this
Youth's Conversation, I can't bear the Thoughts of
leaving him. I'll e'en trifle with him his own Way; it
may at least be an Amusement for a melancholy Hour.
(Aside.)
Well Sir, I have considered on't, and am resolved
to obey you, begin your Instructions as soon as
you please.
JULIO.
Why aye, this is as it shou'd be now; I knew you'd
come too. Come then, stand up, and look in my Face—
nay, never be bashful, look boldly Man; well, d'ye
think you shou'd know me again?
VINCENTIO.
Aye, tho' I were to meet you at an Assembly, or at
Court on a Ball-Night, where most People appear as
different from their natural selves, as a modern Beau
from a human Creature, or a handsome Nun from a
Virgin.
JULIO.
Well then, you must remember wherever you see me,
to make Love to me, and call me your Camilla. Not only
-- 67 --
that, you must follow me to all Places, wait on me every
Hour, sigh, kneel at my Feet, press my Hands,
swear, lye, rave, and die if you please; in short, you
must do every Thing as if I were your real Mistress.
VINCENTIO.
This is an odd Sort of a Remedy; but however, I'm
determined to follow you.
JULIO.
Well, come on then; but remember I expect you to
be very constant, and very punctual: If once I catch
you tripping—
VINCENTIO.
Fear not; but first let me know, where I may find you
on Occasion.
JULIO.
Follow me, and I'll shew you, 'tis not far.
VINCENTIO.
Lead on Sir.
JULIO.
How! Sir!
VINCENTIO.
Gad so! Camilla I meant; I beg Pardon.
JULIO.
Well, take care for the future. Come Sir, this
Way.
-- 68 --
SCENE VI.
Marcellus; Hillario apart.
HILLARIO.
What a Plague shou'd Lord Marcellus want
here now?—I'll be hang'd if there be'nt some
Mischief o'Foot—Oh this is the Place Lady Julia was to
meet him in.—Well, I did not think he wou'd ha' come
I must confess.—Poor Devil! how she'll use him now!
But mum, let's hear what he has to say for himself?
MARCELLUS.
Whither am I going?—What do I here?—Is not this
the Place, I expect to see a Woman in, and consequently
one, I ought to avoid, as I would a false Friend, or an
Adder's Nest?—Well recollected;—I'll once more be
Master of my Reason, and leave it before I see her:—
Yet, why shou'd I?—What Danger is there in seeing
her? I am out of the Power of any Mischief, she can design
me:—I have trusted her with no Secrets;—deny'd
her no Favours, and am secure from her Revenge.—Surely,
I'm free from any Temptations, any Love-traps she
can lay in my Way.—Let me see, I think I may venture:
Yet she's a Woman;—what then?—Why under that
damn'd Word is comprehended every Thing to be avoided.
Yet sure she must be something more than the rest of her
detested Sex.—Some Being perhaps of a superior Order:
That gay Innocence, that noble Simplicity that appears
in all her Actions confirm it:—Yet hold; am not I prejudiced
-- 69 --
to her?—But what shou'd prejudice me? I am
no Love-sick, wishing Boy, to be insnared by the alluring
Form of the deceiving Tempters.—It must be so.—What
in the rest of her Sex is no more than Impertinence and
Affectation, in her is but a becoming Gaiety, the natural
Result of Innocence, Virtue, and good Nature.—
Shou'd Antonio and his Companions hear me reasoning
thus, what wou'd they think?—But what they will, I
care not; it cannot be a Crime to plead the Cause of
Virtue:—Yet, let me think a little:—Confusion! more
Objections!—I'll think no longer; but on, and lose the
Thoughts of Danger in the Midst of it.
The wisest Method Dangers to eschew,
Is to plunge in at once, and boldly venture through.
SCENE VII.
Hillario alone.
Ha! ha! ha! an excellent Remedy:—Well, this
was a most extraordinary Conflict.—I can't say
but the Philosopher argued very well; not but the Lover
answered as well too.—I must after him, and see what
it will come to.
-- 70 --
SCENE VIII.
Florinda sitting on a Bank before a Cottage.
'Ive waited so long for this Philosopher of mine,
that I almost begin to suspect his Courage, and fear
a Disappointment. Well, pray Heaven I an't in Love
with the Brute after all—for I begin to find myself a little
upon—I don't know how:—If so, I have jested to some
Purpose:—If he should not come now, I should be
strangely vexed methinks:—But I wrong him; for see
where he comes, with a Pace, and Countenance as solemn
as a Bawd's at a Funeral.—Now I begin to find the Woman
very strong in me; I must plague him a little, tho' I
must confess it is something barbarous;—but we have it in
our Natures, and I can't help it.
SCENE IX.
To her Marcellus.
FLORINDA.
So! Sir, I see you're not afraid of a Woman; or do
you come to be troublesome? I thought I had warn'd
you from this Place.
MARCELLUS.
I came—
-- 71 --
FLORINDA.
Aye, I see you came; but for what?
MARCELLUS.
Why &lblank;
FLORINDA.
Nay, come I know what you wou'd say now: You
had forgot this was the Place, or you came to gather
Simples, or to read under the Shade of these Trees, or
to fish, or to shoot, or to swim, or to walk, or to—
MARCELLUS.
Do any Thing but meet an impertinent Woman.
Death! What a Coxcomb was I?—I cou'd expect no
better.
(Aside.
FLORINDA.
Come what signifies Dissembling? You're in Love,
'tis plain, and come to see if you cou'd have Courage
enough to tell me so.
MARCELLUS.
So!—But since I have brought it upon myself, I
must bear it out as well as I can. (Aside.)—Well then,
to shew you how much you are mistaken, I came to
rail.
FLORINDA.
Dear Sir, begin then; Scandal, you know, is the
most agreeable Thing to a Woman.—Well, if you did
but know all my Acquaintance, that we might take
'em to pieces one after another, what a pleasant Creature
you'd be!—But come, begin with whom you
please.
MARCELLUS.
You mistake me still; I do not delight in Scandal;
speaking Truth is all I pretend to.
FLORINDA.
Oh Child! Scandal of one's Acquaintance is always
-- 72 --
true you know.—Well come, say something, or I protest
I must leave you.
MARCELLUS.
The only Thing I cou'd wish.—I am determin'd
therefore to be silent.
FLORINDA.
Then I shall have all the Talk to myself, and that
will be still a Pleasure. Well, see how People may be
mistaken; you have been represented to me as a meer
Brute, but I protest, I think you the most agreeable
Creature alive.
MARCELLUS.
Will neither talking, nor Silence rid me of your Company?
FLORINDA.
Rid you of my Company?—Well, you are pleas'd
to put on your little diverting Humours;—but, pray,
how come you to seek me?
MARCELLUS.
Why in short, I came out of pure Compassion, to
tell you some few of your Faults; and first, that I
think you the most impertinent of your whole Sex;
that now you're young, you're fit to be seduc'd by the
Flesh, and when you grow old, your Malice and Ill-nature
will prepare you to be led away by the Devil.
FLORINDA.
Believe me, Sir, you'd make an excellent Monk; what
Pity 'tis such Talents shou'd be lost to the World! I
protest if I had any Interest at Court, I'd put in for the
next vacant Priory for you.
MARCELLUS.
I'm afraid, Madam, I'm not qualified for the Office,
for I shou'd hardly be Master enough of my Temper to
talk calmly to a Set of impertinent Women, that pass
-- 73 --
all their Time at Church in regulating their own Dress,
censuring that of others, and practising Curtesies and
Compliments against the next Ball-Night.
FLORINDA.
Oh! I warrant you, your Complaisance for the Ladies
would soon make you overlook these fashionable
Faults;—besides, we should have you in Love soon, and
then you'd be as tame, and obliging, as a Poet behind
the Scenes while his Play's rehearsing.
MARCELLUS.
I'd hang or drown myself sooner, than be guilty of
so much Folly.
FLORINDA.
Why that wou'd be the most agreeable Thing you
cou'd do; What a Theme wou'd there be for the Wits
to talk of! We shou'd have dismal Ditties, with terrible
new Tunes, sung up and down, on the Triumphs of Love,
or the Downfal of a Philosopher.
MARCELLUS.
Even that would be more tolerable, than Womens
Impertinence.
FLORINDA.
I see no Room for Hope yet; I have one Reserve,
I'll try that upon him, and if it fail, 'twill then be time
enough to despair. (Aside.) But are you really that
Woman-hater, you pretend to be?
MARCELLUS.
What have you seen in my Behaviour, that might
give you Reason to doubt it?
FLORINDA.
What if I shou'd be in Love with you then, must I
despair?
-- 74 --
MARCELLUS.
Oh! cou'd I but see that;—I might hope some Revenge
for your Impertinence.
FLORINDA.
Heigh ho! I fear you have your Wish.
MARCELLUS.
Hey day! a new Tun of Folly a-broach: I see I
must be obliged to leave you in my own Defence.
FLORINDA.
Unhappy Florinda! how well is all thy past Indifference
repaid by him, who only cou'd inspire thee with a
Tenderness unfelt before!
[Whining.
MARCELLUS.
Farewel.—Yet stay, if she shou'd be sincere, I
shou'd, methinks, be the happiest of Mankind:—But
she's still—a Woman;—I'd best retire in time, for I
am but—a Man, and cannot be always Master of my
Passions.—'Tis resolv'd.
[Aside, going.
FLORINDA.
I like that Uncertainty,—it promises well; I'll push
it further:—But see, he's going, I must be speedy.
[Aside.]
Can you then leave me? cruel Marcellus!
MARCELLUS.
By Heaven, I'd not stay a Moment longer to purchase
the rich Treasures of the Indies.
FLORINDA.
Then go; and if it be possible for-ever. Ungrateful
Man! is this the Return for all my proffer'd Love? is
it so poor to be thrown back with so much Disregard?
Believe me, whatever I appear, I'm not beneath you, or
in Birth, or Fortunes. Still cold!—Oh! I cou'd grow
mad, and curse thee:—But why do I talk thus?—I soon
shall know an end of all my Sorrows; the friendly
-- 75 --
Hand of Death spreads quick o'er all my Senses, and I
shall soon be—nothing.
MARCELLUS.
Confusion! how she melts me! If I stay longer, I
shall confess myself a Coxcomb; I'll try if I have Resolution
enough to leave her.
[Aside, and going.
FLORINDA.
Not yet; once more. [Aside.] Stay Marcellus, and
take one last Farewel; yet now it needs not, for all is
done; and—Oh!
[Pretends to faint.
MARCELLUS running to her.
Death and Tortures! What has my Folly done—This
can be no Counterfeit; she's gone, for-ever gone.—Stay
Fair-one, and take me with thee;—for I feel something at
my Heart that pants, and tells me I can ne'er survive thee.
FLORINDA seeming to revive.
Why hast thou wak'd me from the welcome Death?—
Ungenerous Man! too well I know, you but recall'd
me to torment me more.
MARCELLUS.
No, by Heaven; Live, live thou Angel, and all my
future Life shall pass in pleasing thee.
FLORINDA.
So, this is some Encouragement however. [Aside.] Is
it possible? and can you love me?
MARCLLUS.
Oh for-ever: No anxious Miser ever doated more upon
his hoarded Treasures: No pious Saint e'er pray'd to
Heaven with half that Earnestness, I'll worship thee with.
FLORINDA starting up.
Ha! ha! ha! I'm very glad ro hear it I'll assure you;
It seems a Philosopher can be in Love then.
MARCELLUS.
Damnation! have you fool'd me?
-- 76 --
FLORINDA.
Why thou conceited Coxcomb, thou Compound of
Pride, ill Nature, and Affectation; what Charms in thy
Mind, or Person cou'd furnish thee with the Vanity to
think I was in earnest?
MARCELLUS.
I always thought, and now am satisfied, that you are
like all your damn'd deluding Sex;—a Devil:—Farewel.
FLORINDA.
Hark'ye, Lover of mine, methinks I wou'd fain have
thee damn thyself a little farther—and do one Thing before
you quite forsake me.
MARCELLUS.
What is it? Speak this Moment, or I'm gone for-ever:
What must I do?
FLORINDA.
Only swear you hate me.
MARCELLUS.
With all my Heart; I hate your Sex, and thee above
the rest. Farewel.
SCENE X.
Florinda alone.
Aye, aye, you may think so perhaps; but I can
see farther into your Heart, than you imagine. I
think I have you pretty fast upon the Hook, and I'll not
lose you for a little Care I'll promise you, tho' I must
play with you a little: I think I've pretty good Encouragement
so far; and
Who'd not pursue, when by such Hope invited?
A Victory half gain'd must ne'er be slighted.
End of the Third Act.
-- 77 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Marcellus and Hillario meeting.
HILLARIO.
Well encounter'd, my Lord: I wanted
to ask you a Sort of a Question, and was
seeking you.
MARCELLUS.
A Question of me Friend! Pr'ythee
what is it?
HILLARIO.
Nay, 'tis no great Matter of Business; only as I was
coming down the Forest this Morning, I observed you
very familiar with the young Shepherdess Florinda: Now
I wou'd be glad to have your Opinion of her; how d'ye
like her Sir?
MARCELLUS.
Like her?
HILLARIO.
Aye Sir.
MARCELLUS.
As well as the rest of her Sex; she's a Woman.
HILLARIO.
Aye, one may guess that by a little Sort of a Qualification
she has communicated to you.
-- 78 --
MARCELLUS.
What's that?
HILLARIO.
Only the Art of Dissembling, Sir.—Why did not I
see you make Love to her with all the Tenderness of a
Coxcomb of eighteen to his first Mistress? And after you
parted, did not you sit down, and sigh, and look as melancholy
as a Girl that has staid past the canonical Hour
o' the Day she was to be married.—Come, come Sir,
confess, confess.
MARCELLUS.
You are merry Friend; but shou'd season your Wit
with Truth: I have other Reasons for my Melancholy.
HILLARIO.
And you really are not in Love with Florinda?
MARCELLUS.
'Tis not in the Power of any Woman to give me a
Moment's Uneasiness that Way; and least I think in
her's.
HILLARIO.
I'm glad of it; for you must know I have some
Thoughts of marrying her myself.
MARCELLUS.
How Sir? you marry Florinda!
HILLARIO.
Ay, 'tis so. [Aside.] Why not Sir?
MARCELLUS.
Let me but know you dare to think of such a Thing.—
No Sir, I'll have no more Procreation; the World's too
full of Coxcombs already.
HILLARIO.
'Tis certainly so:—Poor Devil!—How I begin to pity
him now. [Aside.] Well Sir, no Offence I hope;—
-- 79 --
upon my Soul Sir I only jested.—But pray Sir, since you
are not in Love, may I beg to know the Reason of your
Melancholy?
MARCELLUS.
I love it better than laughing.
HILLARIO.
Aye, but Extreams in either are certainly ridiculous;
and methinks you seem to indulge it rather too much.
MARCELLUS.
Perhaps so Sir: But there are different Kinds and Degrees
of Melancholy; now mine is not the Scholar's
Melancholy, which is emulative, nor the Musicians,
which is fantastical; the Courtiers, which is proud;
nor the Soldiers, which is ambitious; I am not
politically dull with the Statesman, nor nicely with the
Ladies: In short Sir, mine is a Melancholy of my own,
extracted, like Honey by the Bees, from the various
Objects of my Travels:—I have seen the World,
and the Contemplation of it has wrapp'd me up in this
same humourous Sadness.
HILLARIO.
How! a Traveller? nay then, I fear you've Reason
to be sad: You have sold your own Lands perhaps to gain
a Sight of other Men's; and, in my Opinion, to see much
and to have little, is to have rich Eyes and poor Hands,
'tis the Prodigal's Curse.
MARCELLUS.
But I have gain'd Experience.
HILLARIO.
And your Experience makes you sad: Believe me, I
had rather have Folly and Ignorance to make me merry,
than Experience to make me melancholy, especially when
I had travell'd for it.
-- 80 --
MARCELLUS.
Well Friend, all Men were not born to be of one Opinion:
—Enjoy your Fancy, and I'll adhere to mine.
HILLARIO.
Why there it is now; I never knew a Man in all my
Life mend by being told of his Failings; nay, he'll frequently
grow worse, merely through Opposition, and to
make the World believe he did not think himself on
the wrong Side the Argument.
MARCELLUS.
Why do you find Fault then?
HILLARIO.
For Discourse. If it were not for a little criticizing
now, and then, a Man wou'd be at a Loss to keep up the
Spirit of a Conversation.
MARCELLUS.
But 'tis ill-natur'd to find Fault with no other Design
than to promote a foolish Mirth; and may be dangerous.
HILLARIO.
Not at all Sir; for tho' I displease one Person, I oblige
a great many; for there's no one, but is fond of
hearing his Neighbour's Imperfections, tho' ever so impatient
at a Repetition of his own: Beside, there are
particular Ways of doing it;—as for Instance,—I tell
Cosmelia she has a fine Complexion,—she takes it all for
Gospel, while the rest of the Company know I'm rallying
her on the long Streaks of Vermillion, and White
Lead, that cover her Deformity.—Again,—My Lord, says
I to a great Man,—a Man of your Lordship's Sincerity
is a Miracle in an Age like this:—He answers me with
a Bow,—and a Smile, far different from that of the rest of
the Company, who know him for one of the most deceitful
Hypocrites about the Court.—In short, Sir, my
-- 81 --
Method of rallying is to praise a Man for a Virtue he particularly
wants; and with me a Cardinal is the most
humble, a Lawyer the most honest, and a Soldier the
most religious of all Mankind.
MARCELLUS.
But pr'ythee Friend, how can you reconcile this to your
Conscience?
HILLARIO.
My Conscience, Sir, is so good-natur'd, as never to give
me the least Uneasiness about it. Why Qui vult decipi, decipiatur.
If the World will be so foolish, as to swallow
gross Flatt'ry, let it: and if no one thinks the Fool's Cap
sits him, why should I make it appear that it does? I
tell no Man directly he's a Fool, but am content with
railing at the Gross; and believe me Sir, in a general Satire,
no Man will have so bad an Opinion of himself, as
to think his own Character particularly aim'd at.
MARCELLUS.
Well, Heaven send me far from a Place, where Flattery,
and Fraud are openly profess'd.
HILLARIO.
Let us see now which of us two upon Examination
will prove most in the right? I for making myself merry
with the Follies of the World, or you for continually
fretting at them?—Is not all the World mad?—and will it
not continue so in Spite of your Philosophy? Your Citizen's
mad for trusting the Courtier with his Goods, and
his 'Prentice with his Wife: Your Courtiers are mad for
believing one another: The Lawyer's mad for selling his
Soul for a Fee, which his Client's more mad for giving
him: The Lover's as mad with Jealousy, as his Mistress
is with Vanity;—And, in short, a Madness of one Kind
or other, is as natural to a Man, as 'tis for a Woman to
believe you when you praise her Beauty.
-- 82 --
MARCELLUS.
I think, Sir, you are acquainted with the World.
HILLARIO.
Aye Faith, I know enough to be tir'd of it, as well as
you:—I was Fool enough, upon my first coming into it, to
fancy Desert the only Way to Promotion, and so set up
for being very wife;—but I soon found there was little to
be got that Way, and e'en turn'd Fool: Upon this I was
immediately caress'd by every Body, and loaded with
Preferment, when there was no Danger of my being
thought wiser than my Patrons, and Assistants.
MARCELLUS.
It seems to me a Contradiction to suppose Folly a Recommendation
in a Man.
HILLARIO.
Why I don't know how it may be in other Places,
but in our Country I'm sure he'll find himself damnably
mistaken, that thinks Merit any Step to Advancement.
MARCELLUS.
That may possibly be owing to the Management of
those, who are at the Head of affairs, who do not care to
introduce a Man of Sense, or a fine Genius, lest he
shou'd discover the Frauds in their Behaviour, or outshine,
and supplant them.
HILLARIO.
Doubtless Sir; and for the Reason I have always
thought that People must be bless'd, and such there are
'tis said even now, the happy Subjects of a neighbouring
Monarch who are under the Direction of a Minister,
whose superior Genius makes him despise such Arts; who
always pays a due Regard to Merit, and thinks it his
greatest Happiness to have it in his Power to be serviceable
to such, as deserve well of their Country.
-- 83 --
MARCELLUS.
Happy People!—And yet perhaps they taste it not;
for even Blessings cloy when in the Possession of Wretches
who know not how to prize them as they ought.—But
pray Sir what makes you so inveterate against the Court?
I thought you said just now you belong'd to it.
HILLARIO.
Oh, 'tis the Fashion Sir; no one can be reckon'd a
Man of Wit now, till he has thrown off Religion, and
learn'd to rail at the Court, and the Clergy; one for
being too powerful, the other too rich, and too proud.—
But to be plain with you, Sir, I am but a second-hand
Sort of a Courtier at present, for I have lost my Place,
and am out of Favour.
MARCELLUS.
Oh! your humble Servant Sir; if you had but given
me that Reason first, I'd have excus'd you any other.
HILLARIO.
But come, enough of Trifles.—Now Sir, if you are
not so far gone as to be deaf to good Advice, and think
the Man impertinent that gives it, I have something to
propose, which perhaps may be to your Advantage.
MARCELLUS.
Well Sir, begin then; I shall at least indulge you a
Hearing;—or do you wait for the usual Symptoms of a
Client?
HILLARIO.
No Sir, I shall for once break thro' a Court Custom,
and give my Advice without a Fee.
MARCELLUS.
Perhaps it may be worth as little as you ask for it.
HILLARIO.
That's as it shall happen.—In short, Sir, I see your
generous Temper, and approve of it; and before I proceed
-- 84 --
shall give you a Mark of my Confidence, by trusting
you with a Secret, which is that I despise a Fool in my
Heart as much, as you do; but finding that Fortune bestow'd
her Favours on none but those, that least deserv'd
them, I assumed the Character I contemn; my only Recommendation
was Flattery, railing at the Absent, and
caressing the Present: This, Sir, was no small Advantage
to my Fortune, as well as my Reputation.
MARCELLUS.
Well Sir, all this you told me before: But what is it
you wou'd propose to me?
HILLARIO.
What I wou'd tell you is this:—The Lady you are
in Love with—Nay, never start, for I both see, and know
it; even your Manner of denying it just now, convinc'd
me more fully of it—That Lady, I say, is of a Birth, and
Fortune, that may challenge the noblest Man in Germany.
MARCELLUS.
I fear 'tis in vain to deny it;—sure there is something
particular in Love, which distinguishes those, that are
troubled with it from other Men. [Aside.] I must
confess Sir—
HILLARIO.
Come never make Excuses; 'tis what we are all subject
to, and no Man need be asham'd of.—If you'll trust
to my Management, I'll order it so that your Conduct
shall not be in the least subject to Ridicule, and the
whole Affair seem rather forc'd upon you, than of your
own seeking.
MARCELLUS.
Well Sir, I must acknowledge that I think that Lady
has Beauty, and you Sincerity and good Nature; and if
my Opinion of you increases in Proportion to what it has
done already, I don't know but I may be weak enough
-- 85 --
to be reconcil'd to the World again:—But an Alteration
too sudden may not be altogether proper.
HILLARIO.
I warrant we order Matters well enough for that;
when you see her again let her not perceive the least
Change in you, but receive her as you us'd to do.—
Oh! she's coming yonder with her Brother; walk this
Way with me, it may not be proper to venture on an Encounter
yet, till you have consider'd your own Strength
a little.
MARCELLUS.
I will but take one Look, and follow you.
HILLARIO.
Nay, if you'll not be rul'd, good by t'ye.
MARCELLUS.
Lead on Sir.—Oh Woman! Woman! that it
shou'd be in thy Power to effect such Changes. How
has one Day's Love alter'd me!
HILLARIO.
For the better, I warrant you—Come on.
SCENE II.
Julio, Florinda.
Well Coz, how do you find yourself now?
JULIO.
But so so, I must confess; I'm in a thousand Fears lest
this Lover of mine shou'd not come.
-- 86 --
FLORINDA.
If he knew you to be his real Camilla, you might
then be uneasy at his Neglect; but while you keep him
ignorant of that, and only meet him to fool away an
Hour, if he does make a little Slip in Punctuality, I
think there's no great Harm in it.
JULIO.
Well, I must keep up my Spirits as well I can, tho' I
own I am heartily tir'd of this Fooling.
FLORINDA.
So is he, I'll engage for him.—Yonder he comes I
see—I'll leave you together. Well, by t'ye Coz—
I'll be with you again before your Love Scene's over.
JULIO.
I shall expect you.
SCENE III.
Vincentio, Julio.
JULIO.
So Sir, you're a pretty Lover indeed, to make your
Mistress wait for you after this Manner.
VINCENTIO.
Why, dear Camilla, I come within an Hour of my
Promise.
JULIO.
Break an Hour's Promise in Love!—He that will
divide a Minute into a thousand Parts, and break but the
thousandth Part of a Division in Love Affairs, it may
-- 87 --
be said of him that Cupid has clapp'd him o'th' Shoulder,
but I'll warrant him Heart-whole.
VINCENTIO.
I pr'ythee pardon me this once.
JULIO.
Nay, if you're so tardy, come no more in my Sight;
I'd as lief be woo'd of a Snail.
VINCENTIO.
Of a Snail!
JULIO.
Aye, of a Snail; for tho' he comes slow, yet he brings
his House on his Back, which I think is a better Jointure
than you can make a Woman; besides, he brings his
Destiny with him.
VINCENTIO.
What's that?
JULIO.
Horns; which such as you are fain to be beholden to
your Wives for; but he comes arm'd in his Fortune, and
saves the good Woman the Scandal.
VINCENTIO.
Virtue is no Horn-maker, and my Camilla is virtuous.
JULIO.
And I am your Camilla.
VINCENTIO.
You will have me call you so.
JULIO.
Well, leave fooling, and woo me then, for I'm in a
Holiday Humour, and like enough to consent—Come,
what wou'd you say to me if I were really your Camilla?
VINCENTIO.
I wou'd first salute you.
-- 88 --
JULIO.
'Twere better Sir, in my Opinion, to defer the Kiss
till you found yourself at a Loss for Matter; you might
then introduce it to fill up a Vacancy: I think when a
Lover has spent all his Rhetorick, a Kiss relieves him as
genteelly, as a Cough does a Pleader when he does not
know how to proceed in his Discourse.
VINCENTIO.
What if the Kiss be denied?
JULIO.
It gives convenient Matter for Argument: The Lady
must be intreated, and the Lover defend himself.—Go
to, what a Novice you are.
VINCENTIO.
No Man can surely be so dull to want for Matter on so
fair a Theme.
JULIO.
You have a much better Opinion of your Mistress's
Person, than her Wit then, to think she cou'd not soon
put a Man, as deep in Love as you pretend to be,
to a Loss for Discourse; Why you see you hardly
know what to say to me, who only represent her. But
come, let's try you once more; I speak for her, and
say I'll not have you.—Ha! ha! ha! you're a pretty
Fellow for a Lover indeed, to be struck mute at the first
Denial—You shou'd rather have taken my Hand with
a brisk Air, given it ten thousand Kisses, and swore that
this was the happiest Minute of your Life, since it had
always been a Custom in Love to read Women like Hebrew,
backwards—Come, try again—I say, I hate
you.
VINCENTIO.
If Camilla were to say so, I shou'd die.
-- 89 --
JULIO.
Lud! lud! lud! you're quite wrong—I shou'd
die!—You're one of the dullest Scholars—Why d'ye
think Camilla wou'd like you e'er a Bit the better for
dying? no, no Child, the Ladies don't know what to do
with a dead Lover, 'tis the living they have Occasion for
Besides, I hope you wou'd not go to bring up an ill Custom:
And pray when did you ever hear of any body, that
died for Love? Troilus got knock'd o'th' Head for peeping
in at Diomede's Tent, when he was transacting some
private Affairs; and I warrant you he died for Love:
Poor Leander, as he was swimming in the Hellespont in a
fine Summer's Evening, was taken with the Cramp, and
drown'd, and yet he died for Love too I suppose; all your
great Heroes died for Love: No, no Sir, 'tis true Men
have dy'd in all Ages, but none of them for Love, believe
me.
VINCENTIO.
You are merry Youth; but I wou'd not have my
right Camilla o' this Mind for the World:—I'm sure her
Frown wou'd kill me.
JULIO.
By this Light it wou'd not kill a Fly: But come, since
you bear Adversity so ill, let's see how good Fortune will
sit upon you; as thus now;—I will be your Camilla
in a kinder Disposition, and do just, as you wou'd have
me.
VINCENTIO.
Then pr'ythee love me.
JULIO.
Yes Faith will I, Fast-Days, Lent, and all.
VINCENTIO.
And will you have me?
-- 90 --
JULIO.
Aye, and twenty such.
VINCENTIO.
How!
JULIO.
Are not you good?
VINCENTIO.
I hope so?
JULIO.
Go to; can one have too much of a good Thing?—
Well, but I'm to have you, you say; and see here comes
my Sister opportunely to marry us.
SCENE IV.
To them Florinda.
JULIO.
Come Sister, we have agreed upon the Matter,
and you come very luckily to stand Priest for us.
FLORINDA.
I do not know the Words.
JULIO.
How! a brisk, unmarried Girl, and not know Matrimony
by Heart! Oh wonderful!—But come, we'll instruct
you.—Lord! how dull the Thing is!—What no
Thanks? no Raptures?
[To Vincentio.
VINCENTIO.
No Faith! I know better Things, than all that; you
know I'm to read Women backward my Dear.
-- 91 --
JULIO.
Gad so! that's true; but that's only when they're in
an ill Humour, or so; but when a Woman consents to
her own Advantage, you may be sure that then at least
she speaks Truth.
VINCENTIO.
Well, I always look'd upon Women as a Mystery,
and as such have reverenc'd them.—(A Horn sounds.)
Hark, I am call'd; my dear Camilla, I must leave you
for two Hours.
JULIO.
Alas! dear Love! I cannot lack thee two Hours.
VINCENTIO.
I must now attend the Duke, who has receiv'd me into
his Service; by two o'th' Clock I will be with you
again.
JULIO whining.
Well, go your Ways, go your Ways; I knew what you
wou'd prove, my Friends told me as much, and I thought
no less;—that flatt'ring Tongue of yours won me; 'tis
but one Castaway, note and so come Death.—Two of the
Clock is your Hour you say?
VINCENTIO.
Aye, my sweet Camilla.
JULIO.
Well, by my Troth, and in good Earnest, and as I
hope to be better, and by all the pretty Oaths, that are
not dangerous, if you break one Jot of your Promise, or
come one Minute behind your Hour, I will think you
the most pathetical Break-promise, the most hollow Lover,
and the most unworthy of her, you call Camilla,
that may be chosen out of the gross Band of the Unfaithful;
therefore beware my Censure, and keep your Promise.
-- 92 --
VINCENTIO.
With no less Exactness, than if you were my real Camilla;
till then adieu.
SCENE V.
Julio, Florinda,
JULIO.
Now let that same wicked Bastard of Venus, that
was begot of Thought, conceiv'd of Spleen, and
born of Madness; that blind, rascally Boy, that abuses every
one's Eyes, because his own are out; let him I say,
be Judge how deep I am in Love: I tell thee Florinda I
cannot live out of the Sight of Vincentio; I'll go find a
Shadow, and sigh till he comes.
FLORINDA.
And I'll go sleep.
-- 93 --
SCENE VI.
To them Hillario.
HILLARIO.
I fancy I shall find you better Employment, Lady o'
mine; for I have been doing such Things—
FLORINDA.
What Things Hillario?
HILLARIO.
Why I have persuaded your Philosopher to be reconcil'd
to you—I suppose you'll have him with you quickly—
the poor Devil's over Head and Ears in Love, and
has very civilly set me to pimp for his Lordship.
JULIO.
Why this is News indeed Hillario!
HILLARIO.
You'll find it true, I'll promise you; and so Lady Julia,
if you don't teize him a little, now you have him
fairly in your Power,—I'll say you're no Woman.
FLORINDA.
Oh! never fear it, I like the Sport, and will about it
instantly.
HILLARIO.
Hark'ye, never spare him, you may play with him
very safely, for I'll warrant him fast enough upon the
Hook:—And a—he'll begin a little rough at first I don't
doubt; but don't be discourag'd, 'tis all Policy, and in a
-- 94 --
little Time you'll find him as tame, and complying, as
you wou'd wish.
FLORINDA.
I'm on Fire till I begin.—Adieu Brother.—Business
must not be neglected.
SCENE VII.
Julio, Hillario.
HILLARIO.
An Introduction to playing the Fool all one's Lifetime,
is very pretty Business truly—But how stand
Affairs with you Sir? When saw you your Lover last?
JULIO.
I parted from him this Moment: Pr'ythee, Hillario,
what dost think of him? may I venture to believe he
loves me?
HILLARIO.
Hum—I believe he may a little for the present—I
won't answer for him some two Months hence, if you
shou'd chance to marry within these six Weeks.
JULIO.
Why, as you say, Marriage does alter People strangely,
sometimes; but I must confess, I believe Vincentio will be
constant I'm sure, 'twou'd break my Heart to find him
otherwise.
HILLARIO.
Why how unreasonable that is now; wou'd you have
a Man feed upon one Dish for-ever?
-- 95 --
JULIO.
Why not? if it be wholesome, and proper Food.
HILLARIO.
Now I'm of another Opinion, let him rove a little,
and when he has surfeited himself abroad, he'll begin to
like his Home Fare the better.
JULIO.
Well, you may say what you will, but I'm persuaded
Vincentio will be constant.
HILLARIO.
Yes, as a Child to one Plaything, be pleas'd with you
for a Day, and then good bye t'ye Madam Wife.
JULIO.
If one were to mind you, one shou'd never marry.
HILLARIO.
Why Faith, I'm for advising all my Friends for the
best; but I see you're past Counsel, therefore speed you
together I say,—Soft a while, who comes here?
SCENE VIII.
To them a Gentleman.
GENTLEMAN.
Good Day t'ye Gentlemen, can you inform me
Where in the Purlieus of the Forest, stands
A Sheep-cote fenc'd around with Olive Trees?
JULIO.
The Western Path along the neighbouring Bottom,
(The Rank of Osiers by the murm'ring Stream
-- 96 --
Left on the Right) will bring you to the Place;
But at this Hour the House doth keep itself.
GENTLEMAN.
If Credit may be given to Description,
I then shou'd know you for the Owner of it;
Such Garments, and such Years; are you the Youth
Vincentio calls in Sport his dear Camilla?
JULIO.
'Tis no great Boast I think to say I am.
GENTLEMAN.
That noble Gentleman commends him to you,
And (for unluckily detain'd) intreats you
To hold him from his Word a while excus'd;
Mean Time, in Sign of his unspotted Faith,
He begs you to receive this bloody Handkerchief.
[Giving a Handkerchief.
JULIO.
What must we understand by this I pray you?
GENTLEMAN.
You may remember when he parted from you
He left a Promise to return again
Within two Hours; but pacing thro' the Forest
In silent Thought, he threw his Eye aside
On a low Bank, beneath a reverend Oak,
Moss'd o'er with Age, and bald of dry Antiquity;
Where the good Duke in gentle Slumbers lay,
While round his Neck a green, and gilded Snake,
Had wreath'd itself, and swift in Threats approach'd
The Op'ning of his Mouth; But suddenly
Seeing Vincentio, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented Glides did slip away
Into a neighb'ring Bush, beneath whose Shade
A Lioness, with Udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, and with silent Watch observ'd
-- 97 --
When that the sleeping Prince shou'd stir; for 'tis
The royal Disposition of that Beast
To prey on nothing, that doth seem as dead.
JULIO.
Alas! my Fears! [Aside.] And did Vincentio leave him
Food to the parch'd, and hungry Lioness?
GENTLEMAN.
No, swift as Lightning on the Beast he flew,
Which quickly fell before him.
JULIO.
Gen'rous Youth!
[Aside.
GENTLEMAN.
The Duke i'th' Scuffle by the Noise awoke,
And having thank'd him for the kind Deliv'rance,
Back to the Cave together they return'd:
Vincentio, feeling an unusual Pain,
Here stripp'd himself, and found that from his Arm
The Lioness had torn some Flesh away,
Which being bar'd, in great Abundance bled;
With Loss of Blood he fainted; we recover'd him,
And bandag'd up his Wound; when calling me,
He sent me hither, Stranger as I am,
To tell the Tale, and give this Handkerchief,
Stain'd with his Blood, to thee fair Youth.
JULIO.
Ah me!
[Faints.
HILLARIO.
Why how now! Julio, sweet Julio.
GENTLEMAN.
Many will swoon when they do look on Blood.
HILLARIO.
There is no more in it. Why Julio!
GENTLEMAN.
Look! he recovers.
[Julio recovers.
-- 98 --
JULIO.
Wou'd I were at Home!
HILLARIO.
We'll lead you hither note. I pray you take him by the Arm.
JULIO.
Ha! ha! ha! Was not this well conterfeited? Pray
you tell Vincentio how I counterfeited.
GENTLEMAN.
This was no Counterfeit, there is too great a Testimony
in your Complexion that it was a Passion in earnest.
JULIO.
Counterfeit I assure you.
HILLARIO.
Come, you grow paler, and paler; pray let us go
homewards; good Sir go with us.
GENTLEMAN.
That will I, for I must bear Answer back
How you excuse my Friend.
JULIO.
I shall devise something as we go on; but be sure you
commend my counterfeiting.
SCENE X.
Marcellus alone.
So! these are the Effects of being in Love; 's Death!
I cou'd almost kill myself for being such a Coxcomb.
—Who, that knew me a Fortnight ago, wou'd ever
have thought of seeing me in this Condition?—
Yet after all what is it but an epidemick Disease, and
-- 99 --
what all the World has, at one Time or other, been
troubled with as well as myself?—Well thought again:
Why shou'd I endeavour to curb a Passion, the
greatest Heroes have with Pride indulg'd:—No.
Let prat'ling Fops the Pow'r of Love disown,
I'll pay a willing Homage to his Throne.
When Coxcombs disapprove, and Fools despise,
Contempt augments the Value of the Prize:
This is the Point, which most our Virtue proves,
And he alone is wise, who nobly loves.
End of the Fourth Act.
-- 100 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Hillario, and Antonio meeting.
HILLARIO.
Save you Sir, save you. Pray can you inform
me in what Part of the Forest I may
find the old Duke of Liege?
ANTONIO.
Marry, can I Sir: But may I beg to know your Business
with him?
HILLARIO.
Faith! Sir, my Business is not very great with him:—
But my Time lies upon my Hands a little, and I wou'd
recommend myself to his Service, that I may have something
to do.
ANTONIO.
Why, he's a banish'd Man; and surely you will not be
so unpolite as to serve one that's out of Favour.
HILLARIO.
Why, I own 'tis a little out of Fashion; but I have a
Sort of a-Kind of a Fondness for Novelty in my Temper,
that will not suffer me to be confin'd always to Rules:
In short, I was tir'd of doing nothing at Court, and resolv'd
to seek Employment somewhere else; and hearing
his Highness was here, I thought I cou'd not exercise my
Talents for a more worthy Master.
-- 101 --
ANTONIO.
By the Gentleman's Stile and Familiarity, I shou'd
take him for a modern Conveniency, called a Pimp. If
so, I believe he had best have staid where he was, for
they are in very little Use any where else. [Aside.] 'Tis
something far methinks to travel for a Service—but I'll
introduce you to his Highness immediately.
HILLARIO.
Sir, I'm oblig'd to you; perhaps I may be of Service
to him, at least if Courtiers can be so, for such I have been
in all its Branches, and can give Testimonials no Man, I
think, will dispute.
ANTONIO.
Pray Sir, what are they? Will you favour me with a
Recital of them?
HILLARIO.
Why, in the first Place, I never kept a Promise, or
told a Woman Truth in my Life; I have betray'd my
Friend, and (if he was above me) cring'd to my Enemy:
I have rail'd at the Prime Minister, had five or six Quarrels,
and never sought one: Lain with a Maid of Honour;
had five Coaches seiz'd, and ruin'd three Taylors.
ANTONIO.
Ha! ha! ha! good Sir, enough: After this, no Man
will dare to question your Politeness, I warrant you:
But methinks you had ill Luck Sir, not to have one
Battle for all your Quarrels.
HILLARIO.
Oh! we Courtiers you know are the most peaceable
Creatures living;—tho', Pox on't, I had a damn'd
narrow 'Scape one Time.
ANTONIO.
How was that, pray Sir?
HILLARIO.
Why, I told a hot-headed young Lord, that was just
-- 102 --
come from making the Tour of Italy, and full of romantic
Notions, that his Mistress had as little Beauty, as he
had Manners. He made me a smart Reply, and we stood
disputing some Time; and, in short, it came to a
downright Quarrel: But just in the Nick, as Fortune
wou'd have it, comes by three, or four of our Acquaintance;
upon this I drew, and made two, or three Passes
at him, which he parry'd very dextrously; Our Friends
immediately parted us, carried us to the Tavern, where
we drown'd all Animosities in a reconciling Bottle, got
sociably drunk together, and parted better Friends than
ever.
ANTONIO.
A very pretty Adventure, upon my Word Sir:—But
come, tho' I have been a Courtier too, you shall see I
can break thro' Rules, and keep a Promise; this Way,
Sir, leads to the Duke's Cave.
HILLARIO.
Oh the irresistable Charms of a new Acquaintance!
if I had known his Lordship a Month, I suppose I might
have waited long enough before he'd have troubled himself
about me.
[Aside.
SCENE II.
Marcellus followed by Florinda.
MARCELLUS.
And you will still follow me?
FLORINDA.
I'm resolv'd I will; I will haunt you worse, than a
breaking Tradesman does his Debtors; be a greater
-- 103 --
Plague to you, than a Bailiff is to a Poet; and, in short,
never leave teizing you till I have tir'd myself.
MARCELLUS.
Heaven forbid! for then I shall never be at Liberty
again.
FLORINDA.
Why, pray, have you not affronted me in a most scandalous
Manner? impiously made Love to me, and audaciously
ask'd me to love you again?
MARCELLUS.
I plead guilty; I have been a Coxcomb, and am justly
punish'd for believing any Woman worthy of a Moment's
Regard.
FLORINDA.
If then you own the Punishment is just, why do you
blame me for inflicting it?
MARCELLUS.
Because I think you rather too rigorous: I must confess,
that in my Opinion, to be tormented one Hour with
a Woman's Impertinence, exceeds Hanging, Shooting,
Racking, or all those trifling Deaths; and, in short, is
Punishment too great for any Crime, a Man can possibly
be guilty of.
FLORINDA.
Lord! if you make such a Work about this, what
wou'd you have said to the Penance, I shou'd have laid on
you in case you had neglected, instead of making Love
to me? For however disagreeable a Man's Addresses are
to us, they cannot possibly be so shocking, as not to be
taken Notice of at all.
MARCELLUS.
If it had been one Degree worse, I'm sure I cou'd not
have borne note it; but must have apply'd to some friendly
Dagger, Stream, or Pistol for Relief.
-- 104 --
FLORINDA.
Hum—I cou'd almost find in my Heart to put
you to the Trial: I shou'd certainly be a most intolerable
Plague to you, but that I begin to find myself tir'd of
railing at you.
MARCELLUS.
Go to your Closet for Heaven's Sake, pray; and prepare
yourself, you cannot have long to live.
FLORINDA.
Long enough yet I hope to give you a Surfeit of the
World before I quit it.
MARCELLUS.
And that perhaps may not be very long; for I shall
have a strange Propensity to retire from it the Moment,
you begin to renew my Torments.
FLORINDA.
Faith! pr'ythee do, I have never yet been so happy,
as to have any body die for me.
MARCELLUS.
You'd tell the World perhaps it was for Love.
FLORINDA.
Doubtless, and wou'd not fear being believ'd; my
own Merit, and a Knowledge of your natural good Nature, note
wou'd gain me Credit any where.
MARCELLUS.
Now you have ruin'd all again; I don't know what I
might have done before, but that Thought has determin'd
me not to offer so great a Sacrifice to your Vanity.
FLORINDA.
Oh! you're glad of any Excuse to come off of such a
Bargain, I see, as well as the rest of your Sex: I never
knew a Man hold in a dying Humour long enough to be
furnish'd with the Means of making a handsome Exit.
-- 105 --
MARCELLUS.
Come, Truce a Moment, with your Severities: I
have a Proposal to make you, which is just come into
my Head; will you for once be serious, and hear it?
FLORINDA.
With all my Heart; what is it?
MARCELLUS.
'Tis this; since we are both so well qualified for Satire,
methinks 'tis as bad as losing our Talents, to throw
them away on one another; what say you then to drawing
up Articles, signing a Peace, and joining our Forces
to ridicule all the rest of the World?
FLORINDA.
What, the Courtier, I suppose, for breaking his Promise,
and never paying his Debts.
MARCELLUS.
Aye; and the Lawyer for being a Knave o' both Sides,
and engaging two honest Gentlemen in a Quarrel, that he
may ruin them both, and live upon the Spoils.
FLORINDA.
The Rake for railing at Religion, and setting up for
an Atheist against his Conscience, 'till he's afraid to go
into a Room without Company, or lie alone all his Lifetime.
MARCELLUS.
The Tradesman for swearing to false Weights, and
scanty Measures.
FLORINDA.
And the Buyer for being so foolish, as to believe him.
MARCELLUS.
His Wife for seducing the handsome 'Prentice, and
betraying him for Non-compliance.
-- 106 --
FLORINDA.
And half the Fops in Town, for buying up old Fans,
Gloves, Necklaces, Ribbons, Garters, &c. and shewing
them as Tokens from their several Mistresses: For
writing false Letters, boasting of Favours from Women,
they have never seen, and ruining the poor Girls Reputations
to raise their own.
MARCELLUS.
Pox! you shou'd have laid that to the Ladies; for
they have it so much in Use amongst them, that the
Men are heartily asham'd on't.
FLORINDA.
Well, no Matter for that; all this, and a great deal
more, I know you wou'd say, perhaps justly too: But do
not think, because I have let you alone to satisfy my
Temper a little, that I have done with you; therefore
prepare, for I am now going to return from my Digression.
MARCELLUS.
For Heaven's Sake, is there no Way of appeasing you?
no Hopes of Peace?
FLORINDA.
Hum—Let me see—Yes, there is one Way to
please me—One Thing:—But I know you'll not
comply with it.
MARCELLUS.
Whate'er it is, but name it, and believe it done.
FLORINDA.
Marry me.
MARCELLUS.
Are you mad?
FLORINDA.
In what? you complain'd of a Disease, I have offer'd
you a Remedy.
-- 107 --
MARCELLUS.
Yes, such a one, as it were to throw a Man in a raging
Fever, into a Furnace to cool him.
FLORINDA.
Well, consider on't; for upon these Conditions alone
can I ever be reconcil'd to you.
SCENE III.
To them Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Aye, aye; what's that? let's hear; what's that,
that's to reconcile you?
FLORINDA.
Why, I have made him a very fair Proposal Hillario;
I have offer'd to forget, and obliterate all Injuries whatever,
offer'd me to the Time present, and proceed from
henceforth on an entire new Foundation, only on Condition
that he'll—marry me.
HILLARIO.
Oh! very fair, very fair:—Take her Man, take
her; a mighty pretty Offer in my Opinion.
MARCELLUS.
Yes, to me, I must confess, who am a profess'd Enemy
to Impertinence, and by Consequence to Women.—
Besides, she has openly declar'd she hates me.
HILLARIO.
Well Sir, and what then?—I hope you wou'd not
have a Woman of Quality lie under the Scandal of loving
her Husband.
-- 108 --
MARCELLUS.
Why that's true, as you say; but after all, Marriage is
a Leap, I am almost afraid to venture at on any Conditions.
HILLARIO.
P'shaw, never fear Man, there are Cords enough in
the Kingdom—if you shou'd repent; why—'tis but a
right Application, and I warrant you, one Knot unties
t'other.
FLORINDA.
Well Sir, here's my Hand; what say you? have you
Courage enough to join yours to it, in Sign of Agreement?
MARCELLUS.
I don't know how far a Frolick may carry me;—but
no Signing Lady, before we settle the Preliminaries.
HILLARIO.
Which, as in all Probability they will not be very
concise, it will not be amiss I believe, if we retire to yon
Bank for the better Convenience of Agreement.
FLORINDA.
With all my Heart; come on Sir: Hillario, do you
bring up the Rear.
-- 109 --
SCENE IV.
Julio alone.
JULIO.
I wonder Vincentio does not come;—I'm almost afraid
his Wound is worse, than it was represented:—
or if he shou'd be e'en such a Man, as my Cousin thinks
now.—Well, I'm in a thousand Fears I protest; but
see he comes to rid me of them all.
SCENE V.
Julio, Vincentio,
JULIO.
So Sir, you're come at last; you're a mighty pretty
Gentleman truly.
VINCENTIO.
My dearest Camilla—
JULIO.
Nay, no Come-offs; better let Things stand, as they
are, than make them worse with a bad Excuse: Pray did
the Gentleman tell you how prettily I counterfeited
swooning, when he told me of your Wound?
-- 110 --
VINCENTIO.
Aye; but I have heard greater Wonders, than all that;
your Sister is going to be married to Lord Marcellus.
JULIO.
Married!
VINCENTIO.
Aye.
JULIO.
And to Marcellus? impossible!
VINCENTIO.
No Faith; I met them just now with Hillario, going
to borrow the Duke's Chaplain; for they're willing, it
seems, to secure one another while they are in the Humour.
JULIO.
Well, speed them together I say; tho' I think they
might have had the Manners to have invited us to the
Wedding.
VINCENTIO.
I think so too; tho' I must own, to be a Witness of the
Happiness of another, wou'd but increase my Torments:
Oh! Camilla!
JULIO.
Hey day! what going into your Desperadoes again?
It seems I can serve your Turn no longer then.
VINCENTIO.
Youth, I can live no longer by thinking.
JULIO.
Nor will I increase your Misfortunes by longer trifling
with you;—I know you a Gentleman, and believe
you honest; I am acquainted with your Life, and
am no Stranger to your dearest Secrets.—I am, Thanks
to my Uncle, a Piece of a Magician, and can be of more
-- 111 --
Service to you, than you imagine; therefore, if you love
Camilla, as you say you'll meet me presently at the
Duke's Cave; I am acquainted with all her Fortunes,
and know where she is at this Instant, I know she loves
you too; and if I then find that you deserve her, I dare
promise she shall be yours.
VINCENTIO.
Away, you trifle Boy.
JULIO.
By my Life I do not; but try me, and condemn me
if I fail.
VINCENTIO.
Tho' my Reason forbids me to credit such fond Tales,
yet there is something so extraordinary in this, somewhat,
that touches me so nearly, that I am determined
to see the Event. [Aside.] Youth, I'll meet thee there.
JULIO.
'Tis well, go you directly; I'll but in, and make a
few necessary Preparations for the Ceremony, and follow
you.
SCENE VI.
Julio. alone.
I am now on the very Crisis of my Fortune, and on
a single Breath depends my future Happiness, or Misery:
—What have I done?—I have engag'd myself
to Vincentio without the Knowledge of my royal Father;
-- 112 --
—may he not then disapprove of it? Oh no, he is
so good, it were a Crime to doubt his Gentleness: Besides,
Ernesto's Services, and his own Life so lately by
Vincentio sav'd, are Arguments too strong to be denied.—
Let me yet consider a little;—but I have gone too far to
think of a Retreat.
I'll boldly risque my Fate;—if such they be,
My Crimes, Almighty Love, I owe to thee;
Do thou then kindly my Endeavours bless,
Plead thou my Cause, and I'll not fear Success.
SCENE VII.
Duke, Vincentio, Antonio, and Lords.
DUKE.
You tell me Miracles indeed Vincentio: That this
Youth shou'd promise Things so strange, nay, almost
beyond the Reach of Possibility, excites my Wonder
more, than my Belief.
VINCENTIO.
As I do live, most honour'd Sir, 'tis true; I must confess
I have as little Credit in such Stories as your Highness;
but there is something so extraordinary in the
Youth, that when your Highness sees him, your Prejudice
will fall away insensibly, and you will find yourself oblig'd
to listen to him.
-- 113 --
DUKE.
I doubt 'tis some Device; he dare not meet you.
VINCENTIO.
If he lives, I do not fear his coming.
DUKE.
Well, sit you down, and once more rest assur'd I hold
that Hour the happiest of my Life that brought you to
the Forest.
VINCENTIO.
And believe me Sir, I have more Pleasure to serve
you in this most humble State, than in the Court of
haughty Ferdinand.
DUKE.
I thank you; thy Father was a noble, honest Man,
and one I lov'd, and honour'd; I rejoice to find he has
a Son so worthy.
VINCENTIO.
My Lord, the Youth is here.
SCENE VIII.
To them Julio.
JULIO.
So Sir, you are in Readiness I see:
[To Vincentio.
My Lord, I beg Pardon for this Intrusion; but
you'll have too near an Int'rest in what I am to perform,
not to excuse it.
[To the Duke.
DUKE.
O' my Word Vincentio you prophecy'd; I ne'er can be
-- 114 --
an Enemy to that Youth. [Aside to Vincentio.] But
come young Sir, you come not here to talk, proceed to
Business, and produce my Daughter.
[To Julio.
JULIO.
I will my Lord; but first must have your royal Promise
she shall, when found, have Liberty to give herself,
to whom her Heart directs.
DUKE.
I do agree.
JULIO.
'Tis enough.—You'll remember our Articles, Sir.
[Aside to Vincentio.
VINCENTIO.
I warrant you.
[Aside to her.
JULIO.
'Tis well:—You first, Sir, shou'd be satisfied, then
turn, and view in me your long lost Daughter, your
once lov'd Camilla.
[Discovers herself to the Duke.
DUKE,
'Tis she, 'tis my Camilla; rise my Child,
And bless thy Father's long despairing Arms:
Blest be the Powers, that have restor'd thee to me,
And in a Moment kindly over-paid
All my past Years of Sorrow.—Oh my Child!
How cou'dst thou 'scape thy cruel Uncle's Rage?
For well I know not ev'n thy Youth, and Innocence
Cou'd shield thee from his Fury.
CAMILLA.
Of this my Lord,
And whatsoever else your Grace wou'd know
Hereafter be my Business to inform you;
But now permit me, as my Word's engag'd,
-- 115 --
To satisfy this Gentleman; for which
I do remind you of your gracious Promise.
DUKE.
I do agree to all.
CAMILLA.
Thus then I claim it,
And from this Moment call Vincentio Lord.
DUKE.
By Heaven I'd not have wish'd a fairer Choice:
What say'st thou? Art thou willing to receive her?
[To Vincentio.
VINCENTIO.
As Heaven's greatest Blessing.
DUKE.
Then take her, and be happy.
[Giving him her Hand,
ANTONIO.
I think we are going to have another Flood; for
Couples seem to flock in hither as to the Ark; a second
Pair already, and, if I mistake not, one of them, is
call'd Marcellus.
DUKE.
Marcellus! sure 'tis impossible.
CAMILLA.
'Tis even so my Lord; the other you shall know hereafter;
but I beg you for a while suspend your Curiosity.
-- 116 --
SCENE IX.
To them Marcellus, Florinda, and Hillario.
DUKE.
Marcellus, you are welcome, I give you Joy.
VINCENTIO, CAMILLA.
Joy, Joy, my Lord.
MARCELLUS.
Pox! how foolish this makes a Man look now!—
You are mistaken Gentlemen, we only come to beg a
Favour of his Highness.
DUKE.
I'm glad you have put it in my Power to oblige you;
What is it?
MARCELLUS.
'Tis—Faith I can't speak it; may I never taste
Peace if the Words do not stick in my Throat: P'rythee
tell him Friend.
[To Hillario.
HILLARIO.
Well then, in short Sir, this Lord Marcellus, and this
Madam Florinda, having taken a very pious Resolution,
to plague one another as long as they both shall live,
humbly beg your Highness's Leave to marry, that they
may do it with the more Authority.
DUKE.
Ha! ha! ha! they have mine with all my Heart:
But here's a young Gentleman pretends to have a Sort of
-- 117 --
an Interest in the Lady: What say you Sir? Are you
willing to resign her to Lord Marcellus?
[To Camilla.
CAMILLA.
Are you willing to receive her?
[To Marcellus,
MARCELLUS.
Aye,—No,—I believe so:—Pox on't,
what am I going to do?
FLORINDA.
Hey day! I thought 'twou'd come to this, 'tis well I
secur'd the Evidence: Here Hillario, are not you Witness
to a Promise of Marriage made me by Lord Marcellus?
HILLARIO.
Aye, and am ready to swear it before any Magistrate
in the Country.
CAMILLA.
My Lord I assure you she deserves him; I beg you to
interpose your Authority.
[To the Duke.
DUKE.
Nay, then, take her, for I will have it a Match.
MARCELLUS.
Observe Gentlemen, 'tis none of my own seeking;
you hear the Duke say he will have it so, and 'tis not
my Fault, if I am oblig'd to obey him.—This is
some Excuse however.
[Aside
DUKE.
Well, well, we admit of your Excuse; we have one
Couple already, that you little think of; you shall make
a second, and we'll have you join'd immediately.
CAMILLA.
Now my Lord turn, and in that Lady know your
Niece Julia, whose Love for me has made her the Companion
of my ruin'd Fortunes.
-- 118 --
DUKE.
Pardon me fair Niece; but 'tis not now too late: I
give you Joy, and Welcome to such a Place, as I have to
entertain you in: Hereafter look on me as on your Father,
and if Love can make Amends for Grandeur, assure
yourself you shall lose nothing by the Change.
JULIA.
My Lord, I can thank you with nothing but my Duty;
much Happiness to your Highness.
[A Flourish of Trumpets.
DUKE.
How now! What mean those Trumpets?
SCENE X.
To them a Lord.
LORD.
A messenger from Liege, my noble Lord,
Breathless with Haste, craves Audience of your Highness;
His Face, methinks, wears an unusual Joy,
And speaks fair greeting.
DUKE.
Give him speedy Entrance.
Heav'n grant some happy Turn in our Affairs.
-- 119 --
Scene 11
SCENE The Last.
Duke, Camllla, Vincentio, Julia, Marcellus,
Antonio, Hillario, Lords, and Messenger.
MESSENGER kneeling.
All Happiness to my dread Lord of Liege:
Your faithful Senators, great Sir, by me
Thus humbly throw them at your Highness' Feet,
And beg you to resume your rightful Sceptre:
The Nobles greet you, and the meaner Sort,
Big with rude Joy, forget their wonted Labour,
And pass the Day in Pray'r for your Return.
DUKE.
I pr'ythee, Friend, unfold thy mystick greeting:
Thy Salutation savours of sweet Comfort;
To such unus'd we understand thee not:
If I am Liege, say what is Ferdinand?
MESSENGER.
My Lord, your Brother Ferdinand's no more;
A sad Remorse for the Injustice done
To you, and your fair Daughter; join'd with Grief
For the late Loss of Lady Julia,
His only Child, seiz'd on him all at once,
Like a rude Canker preying on his Heart,
And hurry'd him to an untimely Grave.
The Crown he left to you, and to each Nobleman
That follow'd you, restor'd his forfeit Lands:
Some few Hours since he call'd me to his Bed,
-- 120 --
Bade me I shou'd commend him to your Highness,
And to this fair Assembly; with his dying Breath
Beg'd your Forgiveness, bless'd you, and expir'd.
JULIA.
Alas my Father! Oh!
DUKE.
Poor Ferdinand!
Wou'd thou had'st liv'd, and I had still been banish'd;
To lose a Brother the first Day I found him so,
Is Grief unlook'd, and past the Strength of Nature.
Farewel, and Peace attend thy Memory;
Thy Wrongs to me lie with thee in the Grave.
Weep not my Friends, I'll mourn enough for all;
Over his Tomb will I a Convent build;
Ourselves will grace it with our royal Presence,
And in sweet Pray'r for his departed Soul,
Wear out our few remaining Hours of Life.
To you, my Children, I resign my Dukedom,
And may the Crown sit easier on your Brows,
Than e'er it did on mine.—Come you, who love me
Kneel here, and hail Vincentio Duke of Liege.
[Duke stands bare, the rest kneel.
ALL.
Long live Vincentio, and the fair Camilla,
Our Duke and Dutchess!
VINCENTIO, and CAMILLA kneeling.
We beseech your Highness.
DUKE raising them.
No more—What little Power I have left,
I use it here; make much of these few Friends,
And you shall find them such in Time of Need.
This happy Union, as 'twas here begun,
Shall in the Forest here be celebrated
-- 121 --
With all due Pomp, and Ceremony;—then,
Three Days allowing for Refreshment here,
And a fit Preparation for our Journey,
I'll lead you forward on your Way to Liege.
MARCELLUS turning to the Audience.
Well, Gentlemen and Ladies, I'm afraid I make but
an odd Sort of a Figure here among you, after what has
happen'd.—I confess, I have acted a little out of Character,
and a great deal below the Dignity of a Philosopher:—
what can be said?—When I found myself
so far gone in a Disease, which of you can blame me
for making Choice of the most effectual Remedy: For
By frequent Instances we sadly prove,
That Marriage is the surest Cure for Love.
[Exeunt omnes. |
